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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1478-0.txt b/1478-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..96adc06 --- /dev/null +++ b/1478-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2905 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1478 *** + +A PARODY OUTLINE OF HISTORY + +By Donald Ogden Stewart + + + Wherein may be found a curiously irreverent treatment of + AMERICAN HISTORICAL EVENTS + Imagining them as they would be narrated + by American's most characteristic + contemporary authors + + + + + To + + GILBERT HOLLAND STEWART, Jr. + + + + +Preface + +Mr. H. G. Wells, in his "Outline of History," was of necessity forced to +omit the narration of many of the chief events in the history of these +United States. Such omissions I have in this brief volume endeavored +to supply. And as American history can possibly best be written by +Americans and as we have among us no H. G. Wells, I have imagined +an American history as written conjointly by a group of our most +characteristic literary figures. + +Apologies are due the various authors whose style and, more +particularly, whose Weltanschauung I have here attempted to reproduce; +thanks are due The Bookman for permission to reprint such of these +chapters as appeared in that publication. I give both freely. D. O. S. + + + +Contents + +I INTRODUCTION: A Critical Survey of American History In the Manner of +William Lyon Phelps + +II CRISTOFER COLOMBO: A Comedy of Discovery In the Manner of James +Branch Cabell + +III MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis + +IV THE COURTSHIP OF, MILES STANDISH In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald + +V THE SPIRIT OF '75: Letters of a Minute Man In the Manner of Ring +Lardner + +VI THE WHISKY REBELLION In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. +Burgess + +VII HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright + +VIII CUSTER'S LAST STAND In the Manner of Edith Wharton + +IX FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD: A Drama of the Great War Act I--In the +Manner of Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews Act 2--In the Manner of Eugene +O'Neill + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +INTRODUCTION + +A CRITICAL SURVEY OF AMERICAN HISTORY + +In the Manner of William Lyon Phelps + +On a memorable evening in the year 1904 I witnessed the opening +performance of Maude Adams in "Peter Pan". Nothing in the world can +describe the tremendous enthusiasm of that night! I shall never forget +the moment when Peter came to the front of the stage and asked the +audience if we believed in fairies. I am happy to say that I was +actually the first to respond. Leaping at once out of my seat, I shouted +"Yes--Yes!" To my intense pleasure the whole house almost instantly +followed my example, with the exception of one man. This man was sitting +directly in front of me. His lack of enthusiasm was to me incredible. +I pounded him on the back and shouted, "Great God, man, are you alive! +Wake up! Hurrah for the fairies! Hurrah!" Finally he uttered a rather +feeble "Hurrah!" Childe Roland to the dark tower came. + +That was my first meeting with that admirable statesman Woodrow Wilson, +and I am happy to state that from that night we became firm friends. +When Mr. Wilson was inaugurated in 1913 I called on him at the White +House, taking with me some members of my Yale drama class. Each one of +us had an edition of the president's admirable "History of the American +People", and I am glad to say that he was kind enough to autograph each +of the ten volumes for all of us. + +Early in Mr. Wilson's second term as president, just before the break +with Germany, I was sitting in the quiet of my library rereading +Browning's "Cristina". When I came to the third stanza I leaped to my +feet--the thing seemed incredible, but here before my eyes was actually +Browning's prophetic message to America in regard to the submarine +sinkings. + +"Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! But not so sunk that +moments--etc." It is an extraordinary evidence of the man's genius that +in 1840 he should have perhaps foreseen prophetically the happenings +of seventy-six years later! Not only did Browning seem to know what was +bound to happen, but he told us the remedy. I sat right down and wrote +to my good friend the president, enclosing a marked copy of the poem. On +the sixth of April, 1917, war was declared. + +May 7, 1912, was the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of Robert +Browning. On that memorable date I was traveling to Ohio at the request +of my dear friend Miss Jones to deliver an address at the Columbus +School for Girls. Curiously enough the name of my Pullman car was +Pauline. Not only did that strike me as remarkable, but I occupied upper +berth number 9 in car 11, two numbers which, added together, produced +the exact age at which Browning published the poem of that name. At once +I recited the opening lines, "Pauline, mine own, bend o'er me--thy soft +breast shall pant to mine--bend o'er me," to the porter. + +I like to believe that the spirit of Browning arranged that entire +journey, for the other occupant of this well-omened berth was that +admirable statesman Warren G. Harding. When I sat down I noticed that +he was reading Henry Sydnor Harrison's "Queed", a book which was justly +popular at that time. I at once showed Mr. Harding an article I had +written in which I stated that not only was "Queed" a real novel, with +a real plot, and real characters, but that I believed the readers were +stimulated by the spiritual advance of the hero. The future president +agreed with me and said he thought that literature was a great thing. +Encouraged by this I confessed that I was on my way to deliver a lecture +on modern poetry. Mr. Harding replied that he thought poetry was a great +thing. "Splendid!" I cried, and taking a copy of Browning from my bag I +read him several selections. Mr. Harding said that of the American poets +he liked James Whitcomb Riley best. Personally, while I have for Mr. +Riley only wonder and praise, I think that the English poet strikes a +more inspiring, more eternal note. + +I then read to Mr. Harding Browning's "Evelyn Hope". He said that he +knew a Mrs. Walter Hope in Marion, but that he was not sure her first +name was Evelyn. As I knew that Mr. Harding liked a good pun, I remarked +facetiously that "hope springs eternal", meaning that probably there +were in existence several families of that name. + +I am happy to state that with that meeting began a friendship which +has lasted for many years. When Mr. Harding was nominated for the +presidency, I wrote at once, enclosing a copy of "The Advance of the +English Novel" which I had published in 1916. On the title-page I wrote, +"To the Hero of a Much More Spectacular Advance", meaning that the +progress made by the English novel was as nothing compared to Mr. +Harding's rapid and well-deserved rise. In reply I received the +following: + + 6 July, 1920. MY DEAR +PROFESSOR PHELPS: + +Many thanks to you for your congratulations and your kindness in sending +me your brilliant, searching essays which I hope to be able to read in +the near future. WARREN G. HARDING. + +Just as I am always glad that I am an American, so I think we should all +believe whole-heartedly in the glorious future which lies ahead of us. +We should all pay high tribute to the ideals and sincerity of those +great leaders Woodrow Wilson and Warren Harding. What a pity that some +people believe that there is any antagonism or essential difference in +the aims of those two worthy men. Both are absolutely sincere--both +try to make the world a better, more happy place. And to the critic of +history--as to the critic of art and literature--those are the essential +things. Viewing the past and glimpsing the future of American history I +cannot help feeling that Browning had us perhaps unconsciously in mind +when he wrote: + + God's in his heaven: All's right with the world! + + + +Chapter Two + +CRISTOFER COLOMBO A Comedy of Discovery. In the Manner of James Branch +Cabell + + In fourteen hundred ninety two In the city of Genoa. + --Old Song. + +They of Genoa tell with a shrug how in the old days Cristofer Colombo +whom men called the Dreamer left Dame Colombo to go in search of the +land of his imagining. + +And the tale tells how, on a twilight Thursday, Colombo walked alone +on the edge of a doubtful wood, and viewed many things not salutary +to notice. And there came to him one who was as perversely tall as +a certain unmentionable object and bearded in a manner it is not +convenient to describe. + +But Colombo set about that which the stranger said was necessary and +when he had finished he drank the contents of the curious skull as had +been foretold on a certain All-Saints day. Then it was that the stranger +spoke. + +"Whom are you", said he, "to be thus wandering in the very unspeakable +forest of the very unnamable sorcerer Thyrston?" + +Said Colombo, "I have heard of this Thyrston. And while I do not +criticize, yet I cannot entirely agree with your improper use of the +pronoun WHOM, and oh my dear sir", said Colombo, "those two VERYS would +surely--oh, most surely--be mentioned in 'The Conning Tower'." + +"Eh!" said Thyrston, frowning. + +"I allude", said Colombo, "to the scribbling of a certain Adams with +whom you are doubtless familiar, and of course, my dear Thyrston", said +Colombo, "I spoke only jestingly, for I am Cristofer Colombo whom men +call the Dreamer, and I go in search of the land of my imagining and +it is truly a pleasure to meet the greatest sorcerer since Ckellyr, and +how", said Colombo, "is dear Mrs. Thyrston?" + +Then Thyrston showed Colombo what was written on the insecure parchment. +It frightened Colombo a little, but he assented. And when the sorcerer +had borrowed a silk hat and a gold watch he caused the skies to darken +and Colombo saw that which men refuse to believe. + +"But, oh, now really sir", said Colombo, "that is indeed extremely +clever and I do wish that the children were here to see it and would you +mind, my dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "doing that egg trick again?" + +Then Thyrston showed Colombo that he had nothing up either sleeve +and after an interval he consented to teach Colombo the secret of his +conjuring. + +"Why now to be sure", said Colombo, after he had thoroughly mastered the +trick, "that is indeed quite simple and I am sorry I broke those four +eggs by mistake in your silk hat, and while I do not wish to appear +oversensitive, do you not think, my dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "that +the trick would go just as well without those abominable jokes about +married life?" + +"My dear sir", said Thyrston, "those jokes have been used by every +conjurer since Merlin, and while perhaps without them your trick would +work, yet I have never heard of it being done and I have found", said +Thyrston, "that in sorcery the best results are obtained by doing the +customary thing." + +"Which only goes to show", said Colombo, "that sorcery is somewhat akin +to business, and now that I think of it", said Colombo, "I believe that +the term wizard of industry is perhaps not entirely a misnomer." + +Thus it was that Colombo took leave of Thyrston, and the tale tells +how on Walburga's Eve he came to the court of King Ferdinand and Queen +Isabel. And as he entered one met him who was not unpleasing to the eye, +and she was weeping. And, as it was somewhat dark, Colombo decided to +comfort her. + +"Now, do you tell me, my dear", said Colombo, after an interval, "why +it is you weep, for I am Colombo whom men call the Dreamer, and I go in +search of the land of my imagining, and I think", said Colombo, "that +you have most remarkably lovely eyes." + +"Oh messire", said the lady, "I weep because it is this evening that +I am to entertain the ladies of our Progress Literary Club, and Donna +Margarita whom men call the Spanish Omelet, but who really, messire, has +a lovely voice, was going to sing 'The Rosary' and now she has a cold +and cannot sing, and King Ferdinand is coming, and oh, messire, what", +said the lady, "shall I do?" + +"Why now, truly", said Colombo, "in Genoa it was the judgment of all the +really musically intelligent ladies, except perhaps my wife, that I sang +not an unpleasing baritone, and while I do not know the song to which +you refer, yet I have devoted most of my life to the composition of a +poem concerning the land of my imagining which might well be sung and +besides that", said Colombo, "I can do a most remarkable egg trick." + +So it was that Colombo became for a short time not undeservedly the life +of the Progress Literary Club party. And the tale tells how, after a +paper by Donna Violet Balboa on "Spanish Architecture--Then and Now", +Colombo sang to them the song of the land of Colombo's imagining. And +poignantly beautiful was the song, for in it was the beauty of a poet's +dream, and the eternal loveliness of that vision which men have glimpsed +in all ages if ever so faintly. And when he had finished, the eyes of +Colombo were wet with tears, for into this poem had he woven the +dreams of his disillusionment. And somewhat ironical to Colombo was the +applause of those fine ladies who did not at all understand. + +"Now that is a pretty song", said King Ferdinand, "and do you tell us, +Colombo, how one may get to this land, so that I may extend the borders +of my most Catholic Kingdom and spread the teachings of the true faith, +for to bring the world under the blessed influence of my religion is my +only purpose, and really now", said King Ferdinand, "is there as much +gold there as you describe?" + +"Ah, King Ferdinand", replied Colombo, "there is more gold than ever I +can tell, and I see only too plainly how grievously you suffer to think +that perhaps these people are living in ignorance of the true faith. +And I could ask nothing better than that King Ferdinand give me ships +in which I may sail to the westward and come at last to the land of my +imagining. This I would do in order that the blessed soldiers of +King Ferdinand who will follow me may show to the inhabitants of my +discovered land the grievous errors of their ways and bring them at last +to a realization of the true faith which has been so helpful to our own +dear Spain, and", added Colombo, "our gracious sovereign Ferdinand." + +And droll it was to Colombo to think what might possibly happen were +King Ferdinand to take his dream seriously or were the King perhaps to +be informed as to the true meaning of Colombo's subtleties. + +"Well, now", said King Ferdinand, "of course, to fit out such an +expedition would require great expense, my dear Colombo--great +expense. And, of course, you know, Colombo, that when investors can buy +Inquisition 4 1/4's for 89 it would be extremely difficult to raise the +money for such a speculative project--oh, extremely difficult. And then +you must consider the present depression--tell me now, Colombo", said +King Ferdinand, "how long do you think this depression will last, for I +seek, above all things, a return to healthy normalcy." + +"Well, truly", replied Colombo, "that would be most difficult to say. I +note that on Rodigruez Babsyn's last chart--" + +"I wish this Babsyn and his charts were in hell", said King Ferdinand, +"for it was he who advised me to sell Queen Isabel's silver holdings. +But it occurs to me, Colombo, that in connection with this land-of-gold +scheme of yours, you mentioned something about sailing to the westward. +Now Colombo, that would be a distinct disadvantage when it came to +marketing the bonds, for as you must already know, one cannot sail to +the west without encountering fierce and enormous monsters who swallow, +I am told, whole ships at a gulp." + +"Now as to that", said Colombo, somewhat embarrassed at the turn of the +conversation for WEST had merely happened to better suit the rhymes of +his poem, "you may be right, and I should not go so far as to say you +are wrong, but still at the same time", said Colombo, "is there any +gentleman in the audience who can lend me an egg and a silk hat?" + +And when an unmentionable egg and a doubtful silk hat had been produced +in a manner which it is not convenient to mention Colombo rolled up both +his sleeves and spoke the magic speech as he had learned it on a certain +Thursday from the sorcerer Thyrston. + +"Ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I have here a common household +egg which I shall now ask the ushers to pass among you so you may see +for yourself that there are no wires or strings attached. While this is +being done, ladies and gentlemen, I wish that three of you would step up +on the stage. Any three--don't be bashful girls--I won't hurt you. Won't +that couple over there kindly oblige me--that married couple--no, folks, +I guess they aren't married either--they look too happy." + +Very painful it was to Colombo to hear these horrible jokes coming +from his mouth, but Thyrston had quoted the authority of all successful +sorcerers and not for anything would Colombo have had his trick a +failure. + +"Now ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I am going to ask this lady +and these two gentlemen if they will be so good as to see if they can +take this little egg and make it stand on end without any support." + +And very droll it was to see the unsuccessful attempts which the three +made. Finally Colombo said: + +"Now ladies and gentlemen, I want you to watch me closely. I put the +silk hat on my head--thus. And I take the egg in my right hand--thus. +Now, if this young lady will be kind enough to hold my left hand--I hope +that her best fellow doesn't mind letting such a pretty girl hold my +hand--it's lucky my wife can't see me, though--a friend said to me the +other day, 'Who was that lady I seen you with?' and I said, 'That wasn't +no lady, that was my wife'. Now ladies and gentlemen I take this egg, +and in order to make it stand upright I tap one end gently--thus against +the table until that end is flattened--and then, presto--the egg stands +upright. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you one and all for your kind +attention." + +Thus it was that Colombo impressed King Ferdinand and his court with his +profound knowledge of geography. Next the tale tells how there came to +Colombo on Michaelmas Eve one sent by Queen Isabel, And when Colombo had +buckled on his sword Impavide he followed the messenger through winding +corridors and came at last to the chamber of the Queen. And as he knelt +before her it seemed to Colombo that never before had he seen such +unforgettable beauty as shone in the eyes of Queen Isabel. Yes, truly, +this was the loveliest girl that Colombo had ever imagined. + +"Now do you rise", said she, "and you and I shall have a nice chat alone +here together, and you can tell me all about geography of which I am +oh, frightfully ignorant. In truth", said she, "I have tried to +get Ferdinand to instruct me, but I fear", said Queen Isabel, "that +Ferdinand does not understand me." + +So Colombo instructed Queen Isabel in the fundamentals of geography. And +after a while he spoke. + +"Now many people", said Colombo, "believe that the earth is flat, but", +said Colombo, "such is not at all the case." + +And after an interval Colombo said, "There, my dear, do you not see how +ridiculous it is to suppose that the earth is anything but round?" + +"Why surely, sire", said Queen Isabel, "you make it appear very round. +And I wonder that I had not thought of that before. And I think", said +Queen Isabel, "that geography is a most fascinating subject and oh, +messire Colombo", said the Queen, "you must come and instruct me often." + +Thus it was that Colombo became Royal Geographer. And the tale tells how +after a while various whisperings came to King Ferdinand of his queen's +curious enthusiasm for study. + +"Now about this geography", said King Ferdinand one evening to the +Queen, "I am, my dear, indeed glad to see you take an interest in such +an important study and I have arranged", said the King, "to have your +tutoring in the future done by Father Bernadino who has had fifty-two +years' experience at the University, and your lessons", said the King, +"will commence tomorrow." + +Said the Queen, "How can I thank you enough, dear Ferdinand, for your +untiring interest in my welfare. For I have been struggling along in +my study of geography with a horribly dull clod whose name", said the +Queen, "I cannot remember." + +"Was it, by any chance, Colombo?" asked the King. + +"Perhaps", said the Queen. "But I am oh so glad to be rid of him." And +indeed so great was the happiness of Queen Isabel that her pillow that +night was wet with tears. + +But King Ferdinand was an unusually efficient king, and he spared no +pains in his craving for normalcy. So it was that the next day he called +to him the man who had chanced to be Royal Geographer before the coup +d'oeuf of Colombo. + +"Now tell me", said the King, "is there any chance that a man who sails +to the westward will ever return?" + +"None, your Majesty", said the ex-Royal Geographer. "For many have tried +and horrible are the tales which they tell of demons and monsters lying +in wait for the ships of men. And I should say definitely, oh King", +said he, "that whoever sails to the westward will never return." + +And the tale tells how that afternoon Colombo stood before King +Ferdinand. And very strange to Colombo was the enthusiasm which burned +in the King's otherwise somewhat fishlike eye. + +"For know you, Colombo", the King was saying, "that God has spoken to me +and commanded me to save from the fires of hell the inhabitants of those +golden lands of which you sang. And to you, my dear Colombo, is to +be given the chance which you so ardently desire. For I have this day +purchased three ships which await your command, and within a week you +should be well on your way on this glorious mission for God and for +Spain, and", said the King, "I might add that the Queen, too, is much +interested in this voyage and has even been persuaded to dispose of her +jewels in order that you may make haste." + +"Such instant obedience to the will of God", said Colombo, "and such +fine enthusiasm to further His kingdom on earth, does your Majesties +great credit. And I shall indeed congratulate the inhabitants of this +to-be-discovered land for their good fortune in obtaining such a devout +King." + +And the tale tells how that night Colombo took leave of Queen Isabel. +"Now do not weep, oh Queen", said he, "for I am only Colombo whom men +call the Dreamer, and I go in search of the land of my imagining, and +perhaps", said Colombo, "I shall return." But they tell how Queen Isabel +refused to be comforted for many and many a day. And unexplainably +curious to Father Bernadino was his absolute and complete failure as +a royal instructor in geography, for Father Bernadino had taught for +fifty-two years at the University. + +And so it was that Colombo sat alone in the cabin of the ship which +carried him towards the land of his imagining. And strange and somewhat +fearsome it was to the sailors to see their captain sitting thus +motionless night after night, for already had they left the Canaries far +behind and some there were who said that a madman commanded their ship, +and others who whispered of horrible monsters in these western seas. + +And the tale tells how one night Colombo observed across his table +one who had not been sitting there a moment before and whose hair was +strangely red. + +"Well now, truly, sir", said Colombo, "This is very curious. For I do +not remember seeing you among the crew nor were you ever at the court, +and on the whole", said Colombo, "your red hair and your sneering grin +interrupt my dreams, and dreams", said Colombo, "are all that I have +left." + +"For know you, sir", continued he to the stranger who did not speak, +"that on this earth man has been able to endure only by playing the ape +to his dreams. And in every generation", said Colombo, "there have been +those who dreamed of beautiful things and in every age there have been +those who caught some glimpse of that perfect beauty which the Greeks +call Helen, and to have seen Helen", said Colombo, "is to have been +touched with divine and unbearable madness." + +And it became strangely quiet in the cabin as Colombo continued: + +"And those authors who wrote perfectly of beautiful dreams", said he, +"will, perchance, endure, and those who saw only men as they are, will +perish--for so has it been in the past and so will it be in the future. +All of which", said Colombo, "is a rather tiresome and pedantic excuse +for the fact that I am about to read you my own poem." + +And Colombo read to the stranger the dream of the land of Colombo's +imagining, and when he had finished the stranger smiled and shook his +head sadly. + +"Come, now," said Colombo, somewhat hurt. "Do not, I pray you, pretend +to like it unless you really do. Of course it is not at all the kind of +thing that will sell, is it--and the metre must be patched up in places, +don't you think? And some of the most beautiful passages would never be +permitted by the censor--but still--" and Colombo paused hopefully, for +it was Colombo's poem and into it he had poured the heart of his life +and it seemed to him now, more than ever, a beautiful thing. + +The stranger handed Colombo a book. + +"There", said he, "is the land of your imagining", and in his eyes +gleamed a curious sardonic mockery. + +And Colombo read the book. And when he had finished his face was grey +as are old ashes in ancient urns, and about the mouth of him whom men +called the Dreamer were curious hard lines. + +"Now, by Heaven", said Colombo brandishing his sword Impavide, "you lie. +And your Gopher Prairie is a lie. And you are all, all contemptible, +you who dip your pens in tracing ink and seek to banish beautiful dreams +from the world." + +But the red-haired stranger had vanished and Colombo found that he was +alone and to Colombo the world seemed cheerless and as a place that none +has lived in for a long time. + +"Now this is curious", mused Colombo, "for I have evidently been +dreaming and a more horrible dream have I never had, and I think", said +Colombo, "that while all this quite certainly did not actually take +place, yet that grinning red head has upset me horribly and on the +whole", said Colombo, "I believe the safest course would be to put back +at once for Spain, for certainly I have no desire to take the remotest +chance of discovering anything which may in the least resemble that +Gopher Prairie." + +And the tale tells that as Colombo started for the deck in order that +he might give the signal for the return to Spain, there came across the +water from one of the other ships the faint cry of a sailor. And the +sailor was waving his hat and shouting, "Land Ho!" + +Thus it was that Cristofer Colombo became the discoverer of the land of +his imagining, and as he stood on the deck Colombo mused. + +"Now this is a sorrowful jest and a very unfair jest that is happening," +said he. "For I who have dreamed a beautiful dream of the land of my +imagining will quite probably henceforth be known only as the discoverer +of what will turn out to be merely one more hideous and stupid country." +And tears came to the eyes of Colombo, for on the waves behind him +floated the torn and scattered pages of the poem which sang the imagined +vision of Beauty of him whom men long and long ago called the Dreamer. + +Thus it was in the old days. + + +ANALYSIS AND SUMMARY OF THE FOREGOING ARTICLE In the Manner of Dr. Frank +Crane + +There is a lesson for us all in this beautiful story of how Columbus +realized his ambition to be a great discoverer. + +Men called Columbus a Dreamer--but that is just what folks once said +about Thomas A. Edison and Henry Ford. + +The world has a place for Dreamers--if they are Practical Dreamers. + +Columbus was ambitious. Ambition is a great thing if it is unselfish +ambition. By unselfish I mean for the greatest good of the greatest +number. Shakespeare, the great teacher, shows us in "Macbeth" what +happens to the selfishly ambitious man. + +Columbus got ahead by paying attention to small details. Whatever he +did, he did to the best of his ability. Even when engaged in teaching +geography to the Queen, Columbus was the best geography teacher he knew +how to be. And before long he was made Royal Geographer. + +In our daily lives let us all resolve to be good teachers of geography. +We may not all become Royal Geographers--but there will be to us the +lasting satisfaction of having done our best. And that, as a greater +than I has said, is "more precious than rubies--yea, than much fine +gold". + + + +Chapter Three + +MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass. + +In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis + +I + +1620. + +Late autumn. + +The sour liver-colored shores of America. + +Breaking waves dashing too high on a stern and rockbound coast. + +Woods tossing giant branches planlessly against a stormy sky. + +Cape Cod Bay--wet and full of codfish. The codfish--wet and full of +bones. + +Standing on the deck of the anchored "Mayflower", gazing reflectively at +the shores of the new world, is Priscilla Kennicott. + +A youthful bride on a ship full of pilgrims; a lily floating in a dish +of prunes; a cloissone vase in a cargo of oil cans. + +Her husband joins her. Together they go forward to where their fellow +pilgrims are preparing to embark in small boats. + +Priscilla jumps into the bow of the first of these to shove off. + +As the small craft bumps the shore, Priscilla rises joyously. She +stretches her hands in ecstasy toward the new world. She leans forward +against the breeze, her whole figure alive with the joy of expectant +youth. + +She leaps with an irrepressible "Yippee" from the boat to the shore. + +She remains for an instant, a vibrant pagan, drunk with the joy of life; +Pan poised for an unforgettable moment on Plymouth Rock. + +The next minute her foot slips on the hard, wet, unyielding stone. +She clutches desperately. She slides slowly back into the cold chill +saltness of Cape Cod Bay. + +She is pulled, dripping and ashamed, into the boat. She crouches there, +shivering and hopeless. She hears someone whisper, "Pride goeth before +destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." + +A coarse mirthless chuckle. + +The pilgrims disembark. + +II + +Plymouth. + +A year later. + +Night. + +She lay sleepless on her bed. + +She heard the outside door open; Kennicott returning from prayer +meeting. + +He sat down on the bed and began pulling off his boots. She knew that +the left boot would stick. She knew exactly what he would say and how +long it would take him to get it off. She rolled over in bed, a tactical +movement which left no blanket for her husband. + +"You weren't at prayer meeting," he said. + +"I had a headache," she lied. He expressed no sympathy. + +"Miles Standish was telling me what you did today at the meeting of the +Jolly Seventeen." He had got the boot off at last; he lay down beside +her and pulled all the blankets off her onto himself. + +"That was kind of Miles." She jerked at the covers but he held them +tight. "What charming story did he tell this time?" + +"Now look here, Prissie--Miles Standish isn't given to fabrication. He +said you told the Jolly Seventeen that next Thanksgiving they ought to +give a dance instead of an all-day prayer service." + +"Well--anything else?" She gave a tremendous tug at the bedclothes and +Kennicott was uncovered again. + +"He said you suggested that they arrange a series of lectures on modern +religions, and invite Quakers and other radicals to speak right here in +Plymouth and tell us all about their beliefs. And not only that but he +said you suggested sending a message to the Roman Catholic exiles from +England, inviting them to make their home with us. You must have made +quite a little speech." + +"Well this is the land of religious freedom, isn't it? That's what +you came here for, didn't you?" She sat up to deliver this remark--a +movement which enabled Kennicott to win back seven-eighths of the bed +covering. + +"Now look here Prissie--I'm not narrow like some of these pilgrims who +came over with us. But I won't have my wife intimating that a Roman +Catholic or a Quaker should be allowed to spread his heresies broadcast +in this country. It's all right for you and me to know something about +those things, but we must protect our children and those who have not +had our advantages. The only way to meet this evil is to stamp it +out, quick, before it can get a start. And it's just such so-called +broadminded thinkers as you that encourage these heretics. You'll be +criticizing the Bible next, I suppose." + +Thus in early times did the pious Right Thinkers save the land from +Hellfire and Damnation; thus the great-grandfathers of middle-western +congressmen; thus the ancestors of platitudinous editorial writers, +Sitters on Committees, and tin-horn prohibitionists. + +Kennicott got up to cool his wrath and indignation with a drink of +water. He stumbled over a chair, reached for the jug, took a drink, set +the jug down, stumbled over the same chair, and crawled back into bed. +His expedition cost him the loss of all bed covering; he gave up the +fight. + +"Aside from dragging my own private views over the coals of your +righteousness, did you and your friends find anything equally pleasant +and self-satisfying to discuss this evening?" + +"Eh--what's that? Why, yes, we did. We decided to refuse permission for +one of these traveling medicine shows to operate in Plymouth." + +"Medicine shows?" + +"Yes--you know--like a fair in England. This one claims to come from +down south somewhere. 'Smart Set Medicine Show' it's called, run by +a fellow named Mencken. Sells cheap whisky to the Indians--makes them +crazy, they say. He's another one of your radical friends we don't want +around." + +"Yes, he might cut in on your own trading with the Indians." + +"Oh, for heaven's sake, Prissie--hire a hall." + +Silence. He began to snore. + +She lay there, sleepless and open-eyed. The clock struck eleven. + +"Why can't I get to sleep?" + +("Did Will put the cat out?") + +"I wonder what this medicine show is like?" + +"What is the matter with these people?" + +("Or is it me?") + +She reached down, pulled the blankets from under her, spread them +carefully over the sleeping Kennicott, patting them down affectionately. + +The next day she learned what the medicine show was like. She also +learned what was the matter with the pilgrims. + +III + +Morning. + +A fog horn. + +A fog horn blowing unceasingly. + +At breakfast Kennicott pointed with his fork in the direction of the +persistent sound. + +"There's your Smart Set medicine show," he said glumly. "He doesn't seem +to care much whether we give him a permit or not." Then, a minute later, +"We'll have to let him stay. Won't do to have the Indians down on us. +But I tell you this, Priscilla, I don't want you to go." + +"But Will--" + +"Prissie, please! I'm sorry I said what I did last night. I was tired. +But don't you see, well, I can't just exactly explain--but this fog horn +sort of scares me--I don't like it--" + +He suddenly rose and put both hands on her shoulders. He looked into her +eyes. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He picked up his +hat and was gone. It was five minutes before Priscilla noticed that his +breakfast had been left untouched. + +A fog horn, sounding unceasingly. + +She listlessly put away the breakfast dishes. She tried to drown out +the sound by singing hymns. She fell on her knees and tried to pray. She +found her prayers keeping time to the rise and fall of the notes of that +horn. She determined to go out in the air--to find her husband--to go to +church, anywhere--as far as possible from the Smart Set medicine show. + +So she went out the back door and ran as fast as she could toward the +place from which came the sound of the fog horn. + +IV + +An open space on the edge of the forest. + +In the centre of the clearing a small gaudily-painted tent. + +Seated on the ground in a semicircle before the tent, some forty or +fifty Indians. + +Standing on a box before the entrance to the tent, a man of twenty-five +or fifty. + +In his left hand he holds a fog horn; in his right, a stein of beer. + +He puts the horn to his lips and blows heavy blast. + +He bellows, "Beauty--Beauty--Beauty!" + +He takes a drink of beer. + +He repeats this performance nine times. + +He takes up some mud and deftly models the features of several +well-known characters--statesmen, writers, critics. In many cases +the resemblance is so slight that Priscilla can hardly recognize the +character. + +He picks up a heavy club and proceeds to beat each one of his modeled +figures into a pulp. + +The Indians applaud wildly. + +He pays no attention to this applause. + +He clears his throat and begins to speak. Priscilla is so deafened by +the roar of his voice that she cannot hear what he says. Apparently he +is introducing somebody; somebody named George. + +George steps out of the tent, but does not bow to the audience. In +one hand he carries a fencing foil, well constructed, of European +workmanship; in his other hand he holds a number of pretty toy balloons +which he has made himself. + +He smiles sarcastically, tosses the balloons into the air, and cleverly +punctures them one by one with his rapier. + +At each "pop" the announcer blows a loud blast on the fog horn. + +When the last balloon has been punctured George retires without +acknowledging the applause of the Indians. + +The next act is announced as Helen of Troy in "Six Minutes of Beauty". +Priscilla learns from the announcer that "this little lady is out of +'Irony' by Theodore Dreiser". + +"All ready, Helen--" + +The "little lady" appears. + +She is somewhat over six feet six in height and built like a +boilermaker. She is dressed in pink tights. + +"Six Minutes of Beauty" begins when Helen picks up three large iron +cannon balls and juggles them. She tosses them in the air and catches +them cleverly on the back of her neck. + +The six minutes are brought to a successful conclusion when Helen, +hanging head downward by one foot from a trapeze, balances lighted lamp +on the other foot and plays Beethoven's Fifth Symphony on the slide +trombone. + +The announcer then begins his lecture. Priscilla has by this time gotten +used to the overpowering roar of his voice and she discovers that once +this difficulty is overcome she is tremendously impressed by his words. + +She becomes more and more attracted to the man. She listens, fascinated, +as his lecture draws to a close and he offers his medicine for sale. She +presses forward through the crowd of Indians surrounding the stand. She +reaches the tent. She gives her coin and receives in return a bottle. +She hides it in her cape and hurries home. + +She slips in the back way; she pours some of the medicine into a glass; +she drinks it. + +V + +A terrible overwhelming nausea. Vomiting, which lasts for agonizing +minutes, leaving her helpless on the floor. + +Then cessation. + +Then light--blinding light. + +VI + +At 3:10 Priscilla drank the Mencken medicine; at 3:12 she was lying in +agony on the floor; at 3:20 she opened her eyes; at 3:21 she walked +out of her front door; and at 3:22 she discovered what was wrong with +Plymouth and the pilgrims. + +Main Street. Straight and narrow. A Puritan thoroughfare in a Puritan +town. + +The church. A centre of Puritan worship. The shrine of a narrow theology +which persistently repressed beauty and joy and life. + +The Miles Standish house. The house of a Puritan. A squat, unlovely +symbol of repression. Beauty crushed by Morality. + +Plymouth Rock. Hard, unyielding--like the Puritan moral code. A huge +tombstone on the grave of Pan. + +She fled home. She flung herself, sobbing, on the bed. She cried, +"They're all Puritans that's what they are, Puritans!" + +After a while she slept, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating +unnaturally. + +VII + +Late that night. + +She opened her eyes; she heard men's voices; she felt her heart still +pounding within her at an alarming rate. + +"And I told them then that it would come to no good end. Truly, the Lord +does not countenance such joking." + +She recognized the voices of Miles Standish and Elder Brewster. + +"Well--what happened then?" This from Kennicott. + +"Well, you see, Henry Haydock got some of this Mencken's medicine from +one of the Indians. And he thought it would be a good joke to put it in +the broth at the church supper this evening." + +"Yes?" + +"Well--he did it, the fool. And when the broth was served, hell on +earth broke loose. Everyone started calling his neighbor a Puritan, and +cursing him for having banished Beauty from the earth. The Lord knows +what they meant by that; I don't. Old friends fought like wildcats, +shrieking 'Puritan' at each other. Luckily it only got to one table--but +there are ten raving lunatics in the lockup tonight. + +"It's an awful thing. But thanks to the Lord, some good has come out of +this evil: that medicine man, Mencken, was standing outside looking in +at the rumpus, smiling to himself I guess. Well, somebody saw him and +yelled, 'There's another of those damned Puritans!' and before he could +get away five of them had jumped on him and beaten him to death. He +deserved it, and it's a good joke on him that they killed him for being +a Puritan." + +Priscilla could stand no more. She rose from her bed, rushed into the +room, and faced the three Puritans. In the voice of Priscilla Kennicott +but with the words of the medicine man she scourged them. + +"A good joke?" she began. "And that is what you Puritan gentlemen of God +and volcanoes of Correct Thought snuffle over as a good joke? Well, +with the highest respect to Professor Doctor Miles Standish, the Puritan +Hearse-hound, and Professor Doctor Elder Brewster, the Plymouth Dr. +Frank Crane--BLAA!" + +She shrieked this last in their faces and fell lifeless at their feet. + +She never recovered consciousness; an hour later she died. An overdose +of the medicine had been too much for her weak heart. + +"Poor William," comforted Elder Brewster, "you must be brave. You will +miss her sorely. But console yourself with the thought that it was for +the best. Priscilla has gone where she will always be happy. She has at +last found that bliss which she searched for in vain on earth." + +"Yes William," added Miles Standish. "Priscilla has now found eternal +joy." + +VIII + +Heaven. + +Smug saints with ill-fitting halos and imitation wings, singing +meaningless hymns which Priscilla had heard countless times before. + +Sleek prosaic angels flying aimlessly around playing stale songs on +sickly yellow harps. + +Three of the harps badly out of tune; two strings missing on another. + +Moses, a Jew. + +Methuselah, another Jew. Old and unshaven. + +Priscilla threw herself on a cloud, sobbing. + +"Well, sister, what seems to be the matter here?" + +She looked up; she saw a sympathetic stranger looking down at her. + +"Because you know, sister," he went on, "if you don't like it here you +can always go back any time you want to." + +"Do you mean to say," gasped Priscilla, "that I can return to earth?" + +"You certainly can," said the stranger. "I'm sort of manager here, and +whenever you see any particular part of the earth you'd like to live in, +you just let me know and I'll arrange it." + +He smiled and was gone. + +IX + +It was two hundred years before Priscilla Kennicott definitely decided +that she could stand it no longer in heaven; it was another hundred +years before she located a desirable place on earth to return to. + +She finally selected a small town in the American northwest, far from +the Puritan-tainted Plymouth; a small town in the midst of fields of +beautiful waving grain; a small town free from the artificiality of +large cities; a small town named Gopher Prairie. + +She made known her desire to the manager; she said goodby to a small +group of friends who had gathered to see her off; she heard the sound +of the eternal harp playing and hymn singing grow gradually fainter and +fainter; she closed her eyes. + +When she opened them again she found herself on Main Street in Gopher +Prairie. + +X + +From the "Heavenly Harp and Trumpet": + +Mrs. Priscilla Kennicott, one of our most popular angels, left these +parts last Tuesday for an extended visit to the Earth. Mrs. K. confided +to Ye Editor that she would probably take up her residence in Gopher +Prairie, Minn., under the name of Carol Kennicott. The "Harp and +Trumpet" felicitates the citizens of Gopher Prairie on their acquisition +of a charming and up-to-date young matron whose absence will be keenly +regretted by her many friends in the heavenly younger married set. Good +luck, Priscilla! + +XI + +Heaven. + +Five years later. + +The monthly meeting of the Celestial Browning Club. + +Seated in the chair reserved for the guest of honor, the manager. + +The meeting opens as usual with a reading by Brother Robert Browning +of his poem "Pippa Passes"; as he proclaims that "God's in his heaven, +all's right with the world", the members applaud and the manager rises +and bows. + +The chairman announces that "today we take up a subject in which I am +sure we are all extremely interested--the popular literature of the +United States". + +The members listen to selected extracts from the writings of Gene +Stratton-Porter, Zane Grey, and Harold Bell Wright; at the conclusion +they applaud and the manager again bows. + +"I am sure", says the chairman, "that we are all glad to hear that +things are going so nicely in the United States." (Applause.) "And now, +in conclusion, Brother Voltaire has requested permission to address us +for a few minutes, and I am sure that anything Brother Voltaire has to +say will be eminently worthwhile." + +Brother Voltaire rises and announces that he has listened with interest +to the discussion of American literature; that he, too, rejoices that +all is well in this best of all possible United States; and that he +hopes they will pardon him if he supplements the program by reading +a few extracts from another extremely popular American book recently +published under the name of "Main Street". + +XII + +At the next meeting of the Celestial Browning Club it was unanimously +voted that the privileges of the club be denied Brother Voltaire for the +period of one year, and that the name of Priscilla Kennicott be stricken +from the list of non-resident members of heaven. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH + +In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald + +This story occurs under the blue skies and bluer laws of Puritan New +England, in the days when religion was still taken seriously by a great +many people, and in the town of Plymouth where the "Mayflower", having +ploughed its platitudinous way from Holland, had landed its precious +cargo of pious Right Thinkers, moral Gentlemen of God, and--Priscilla. + +Priscilla was--well, Priscilla had yellow hair. In a later generation, +in a 1921 June, if she had toddled by at a country club dance you would +have noticed first of all that glorious mass of bobbed corn-colored +locks. You would, then, perhaps, have glanced idly at her face, and +suddenly said "Oh my gosh!" The next moment you would have clutched the +nearest stag and hissed, "Quick--yellow hair--silver dress--oh Judas!" +You would then have been introduced, and after dancing nine feet +you would have been cut in on by another panting stag. In those nine +delirious feet you would have become completely dazed by one of the +smoothest lines since the building of the Southern Pacific. You would +then have borrowed somebody's flask, gone into the locker room and +gotten an edge--not a bachelor-dinner edge but just enough to give +you the proper amount of confidence. You would have returned to the +ballroom, cut in on this twentieth century Priscilla, and taken her and +your edge out to a convenient limousine, or the first tee. + +It was of some such yellow-haired Priscilla that Homer dreamed when he +smote his lyre and chanted, "I sing of arms and the man"; it was at the +sight of such as she that rare Ben Johnson's Dr. Faustus cried, "Was +this the face that launched a thousand ships?" In all ages has such +beauty enchanted the minds of men, calling forth in one century the +Fiesolian terza rima of "Paradise Lost", in another the passionate arias +of a dozen Beethoven symphonies. In 1620 the pagan daughter of Helen of +Troy and Cleopatra of the Nile happened, by a characteristic jest of the +great Ironist, to embark with her aunt on the "Mayflower". + +Like all girls of eighteen Priscilla had learned to kiss and be kissed +on every possible occasion; in the exotic and not at all uncommon +pleasure of "petting" she had acquired infinite wisdom and complete +disillusionment. But in all her "petting parties" on the "Mayflower" and +in Plymouth she had found no Puritan who held her interest beyond the +first kiss, and she had lately reverted in sheer boredom to her boarding +school habit of drinking gin in large quantities, a habit which was not +entirely approved of by her old-fashioned aunt, although Mrs. Brewster +was glad to have her niece stay at home in the evenings "instead", as +she told Mrs. Bradford, "of running around with those boys, and really, +my dear, Priscilla says some of the FUNNIEST things when she gets a +little er--'boiled', as she calls it--you must come over some evening, +and bring the governor." + +Mrs. Brewster, Priscilla's aunt, is the ancestor of all New England +aunts. She may be seen today walking down Tremont Street, Boston, in +her Educator shoes on her way to S. S. Pierce's which she pronounces +to rhyme with HEARSE. The twentieth century Mrs. Brewster wears a +highnecked black silk waist with a chatelaine watch pinned over her left +breast and a spot of Gordon's codfish (no bones) over her right. When +a little girl she was taken to see Longfellow, Lowell, and Ralph Waldo +Emerson; she speaks familiarly of the James boys, but this has no +reference to the well-known Missouri outlaws. She was brought up on +blueberry cake, Postum and "The Atlantic Monthly"; she loves the Boston +"Transcript", God, and her relatives in Newton Centre. Her idea of a +daring joke is the remark Susan Hale made to Edward Everett Hale about +sending underwear to the heathen. She once asked Donald Ogden Stewart +to dinner with her niece; she didn't think his story about the lady +mind reader who read the man's mind and then slapped his face, was very +funny; she never asked him again. + +The action of this story all takes place in MRS. BREWSTER'S Plymouth +home on two successive June evenings. As the figurative curtain rises +MRS. BREWSTER is sitting at a desk reading the latest instalment of +Foxe's "Book of Martyrs". + +The sound of a clanking sword is heard outside. MRS. BREWSTER looks up, +smiles to herself, and goes on reading. A knock--a timid knock. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Come in. + +(Enter CAPTAIN MIKES STANDISH, whiskered and forty. In a later +generation, with that imposing mustache and his hatred of Indians, +Miles would undoubtedly have been a bank president. At present he seems +somewhat ill at ease, and obviously relieved to find only PRISCILLA'S +aunt at home.) + +MRS. BREWSTER: Good evening, Captain Standish. + +MILES: Good evening, Mrs. Brewster. It's--it's cool for June, isn't it? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Yes. I suppose we'll pay, for it with a hot July, though. + +MILES (nervously): Yes, but it--it is cool for June, isn't it? + +MRS. BREWSTER: So you said, Captain. + +MILES: Yes. So I said, didn't I? (Silence.) + +MILES: Mistress Priscilla isn't home, then? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Why, I don't think so, Captain But I never can be sure +where Priscilla is. + +MILES (eagerly): She's a--a fine girl, isn't she? A fine girl. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Why, yes. Of course, Priscilla has her faults but she'd +make some man a fine wife--some man who knew how to handle her--an older +man, with experience. + +MILES: Do you really think so, Mrs. Brewster? (After a minute.) Do you +think Priscilla is thinking about marrying anybody in particular? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Well, I can't say, Captain. You know--she's a little +wild. Her mother was wild, too, you know--that is, before the Lord spoke +to her. They say she used to be seen at the Mermaid Tavern in London +with all those play-acting people. She always used to say that Priscilla +would marry a military man. + +MILES: A military man? Well, now tell me Mrs. Brewster, do you think +that a sweet delicate creature like Priscilla-- + +A VOICE (in the next room): Oh DAMN! + +MRS. BREWSTER: That must be Priscilla now. + +THE VOICE: Auntie! + +MRS. BREWSTER: Yes, Priscilla dear. + +THE VOICE: Where in hell did you put the vermouth? + +MRS. BREWSTER: In the cupboard, dear. I do hope you aren't going to +get--er--"boiled" again tonight, Priscilla. (Enter PRISCILLA, infinitely +radiant, infinitely beautiful, with a bottle of vermouth in one hand and +a jug of gin in the other.) PRISCILLA: Auntie, that was a dirty trick to +hide the vermouth. Hello Miles--shoot many Indians today? + +MILES: Why--er er--no, Mistress Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Wish you'd take me with you next time, Miles. I'd love to +shoot an Indian, wouldn't you, auntie? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! What an idea! And please dear, give Auntie +Brewster the gin. I--er--promised to take some to the church social +tonight and it's almost all gone now. + +MILES: I didn't see you at church last night, Mistress Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Well I'll tell you, Miles. I started to go to church--really +felt awfully religious. But just as I was leaving I thought, "Priscilla, +how about a drink--just one little drink?" You know, Miles, church +goes so much better when you're just a little boiled--the lights and +everything just kind of--oh, its glorious. Well last night, after I'd +had a little liquor, the funniest thing happened. I felt awfully good, +not like church at all--so I just thought I'd take a walk in the woods. +And I came to a pool--a wonderful honest-to-God pool--with the moon +shining right into the middle of it. So I just undressed and dove in and +it was the most marvelous thing in the world. And then I danced on the +bank in the grass and the moonlight--oh, Lordy, Miles, you ought to have +seen me. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! + +PRISCILLA: 'Scuse me, Auntie Brewster. And then I just lay in the grass +and sang and laughed. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Dear, you'll catch your death of cold one of these +nights. I hope you'll excuse me, Captain Standish; it's time I was going +to our social. I'll leave Priscilla to entertain you. Now be a good +girl, Priscilla, and please dear don't drink straight vermouth--remember +what happened last time. Good night, Captain--good night, dear. + +(Exit MRS. BREWSTER with gin.) + +PRISCILLA: Oh damn! What'll we do, Miles--I'm getting awfully sleepy. + +MILES: Why--we might--er--pet a bit. + +PRISCILLA (yawning): No. I'm too tired--besides, I hate whiskers. + +MILES: Yes, that's so, I remember. (Ten minutes' silence, with MILES +looking sentimentally into the fireplace, PRISCILLA curled up in a chair +on the other side.) + +MILES: I was--your aunt and I--we were talking about you before you came +in. It was a talk that meant a lot to me. + +PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind closing that window? + +(MILES closes the window and returns to his chair by the fireplace.) + +MILES: And your aunt told me that your mother said you would some day +marry a military man. + +PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind passing me that pillow over there? + +(MILES gets up, takes the pillow to PRISCILLA and again sits down.) + +MILES: And I thought that if you wanted a military man why--well, I've +always thought a great deal of you, Mistress Priscilla--and since my +Rose died I've been pretty lonely, and while I'm nothing but a rough +old soldier yet--well, what I'm driving at is--you see, maybe you and I +could sort of--well, I'm not much of a hand at fancy love speeches and +all that--but-- + +(He is interrupted by a snore. He glances up and sees that PRISCILLA has +fallen fast asleep. He sits looking hopelessly into the fireplace for a +long time, then gets up, puts on his hat and tiptoes out of the door.) + +THE NEXT EVENING + +PRISCILLA is sitting alone, lost in revery, before the fireplace. It is +almost as if she had not moved since the evening before. + +A knock, and the door opens to admit JOHN ALDEN, nonchalant, +disillusioned, and twenty-one. + +JOHN: Good evening. Hope I don't bother you. + +PRISCILLA: The only people who bother me are women who tell me I'm +beautiful and men who don't. + +JOHN: Not a very brilliant epigram--but still--yes, you ARE beautiful. + +PRISCILLA: Of course, if it's an effort for you to say-- + +JOHN: Nothing is worthwhile without effort. + +PRISCILLA: Sounds like Miles Standish; many things I do without effort +are worthwhile; I am beautiful without the slightest effort. + +JOHN: Yes, you're right. I could kiss you without any effort--and that +would be worthwhile--perhaps. + +PRISCILLA: Kissing me would prove nothing. I kiss as casually as I +breathe. + +JOHN: And if you didn't breathe--or kiss--you would die. + +PRISCILLA: Any woman would. + +JOHN: Then you are like other women. How unfortunate. + +PRISCILLA: I am like no woman you ever knew. + +JOHN: You arouse my curiosity. + +PRISCILLA: Curiosity killed a cat. + +JOHN: A cat may look at a--Queen. + +PRISCILLA: And a Queen keeps cats for her amusement. They purr so +delightfully when she pets them. + +JOHN: I never learned to purr; it must be amusing--for the Queen. + +PRISCILLA: Let me teach you. I'm starting a new class tonight. + +JOHN: I'm afraid I couldn't afford to pay the tuition. + +PRISCILLA: For a few exceptionally meritorious pupils, various +scholarships and fellowships have been provided. + +JOHN: By whom? Old graduates? + +PRISCILLA: NO--the institution has been endowed by God-- + +JOHN: With exceptional beauty--I'm afraid I'm going to kiss you. NOW. + +(They kiss.) + +(Ten minutes pass.) + +PRISCILLA: Stop smiling in that inane way. + +JOHN: I just happened to think of something awfully funny. You know the +reason why I came over here tonight? + +PRISCILLA: To see me. I wondered why you hadn't come months ago. + +JOHN: No. It's really awfully funny--but I came here tonight because +Miles Standish made me promise this morning to ask you to marry him. +Miles is an awfully good egg, really Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Speak for yourself, John. (They kiss.) + +PRISCILLA: Again. + +JOHN: Again--and again. Oh Lord, I'm gone. + +(An hour later JOHN leaves. As the door closes behind him PRISCILLA +sinks back into her chair before the fireplace; an hour passes, and +she does not move; her aunt returns from the Bradfords' and after a +few ineffectual attempts at conversation goes to bed alone; the candles +gutter, flicker, and die out; the room is filled of sacred silence. Once +more the clock chimes forth the hour--the hour of fluted peace, of dead +desire and epic love. Oh not for aye, Endymion, mayst thou unfold the +purple panoply of priceless years. She sleeps--PRISCILLA sleeps--and +down the palimpsest of age-old passion the lyres of night breathe forth +their poignant praise. She sleeps--eternal Helen--in the moonlight of +a thousand years; immortal symbol of immortal aeons, flower of the gods +transplanted on a foreign shore, infinitely rare, infinitely erotic.[1]) + +[1] For the further adventures of Priscilla, see F. Scott Fitzgerald's +stories in the "Girl With the Yellow Hair" series, notably "This Side +of Paradise," "The Offshore Pirate," "The Ice Palace," "Head and +Shoulders," "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," "Benediction" and "The Beautiful +and Damned." + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +THE SPIRIT OF '75 + +LETTERS OF A MINUTE MAN + +In the Manner of Ring Lardner + +Friend Ethen-- + +Well Ethen you will be surprised O. K. to hear I & the wife took a +little trip down to Boston last wk. to a T. party & I guess you are +thinking we will be getting the swelt hed over being ast to a T. party. +In Boston. + +Well Ethen if you think that why you will be a 100 mi. offen the track +because Ethen I and Prudence sent the kind that gets a swelt hed over +being ast any wares like some of are naybers up here when they are ast +any wares so you see Ethen even if we had been ast any wares we wouldnt +of had no swelt hed. On acct of being ast any wares. + +Well last Thurs. I and Prudence drove old Bessy down to Boston Bessy is +are horse see Ethen which is about 13 mi. from here Boston I mean Ethen +as the crow flys only no crow would ever fly to Boston if he could +help it because all the crows that ever flew to Boston was shot by +them lousie taverin keepers to make meals out of Ethen I never tast +it nothing so rotten in my life as the meals they give us there & the +priceis would knock your I out. 3 shillings for a peace of stake about +as big as your I, and 4 pence for a cup of coffy. The streets sent the +only thing about Boston thats crook it. Them taverin keepers is crook it +to I mean see Ethen. + +After supper I & her was walking a round giving the town the double O +when we seen that Fanny Ewell Hall was all lit up like Charley Davis on +Sat. night & I says to Prudence lets go inside I think its free and +she says I bet you knowed it was free al right befor you ast me & sure +enough it was free only I hadnt knowed it before only I guess that +Prudence knows that when I say a thing it is generally O. K. Well Fanny +Ewell Hall was pack jam full of people & we couldnt see nothing because +there was a cockide stiff standing right in front of us & jumping up & +down & yelling No T. No T. at the top of his lunges & Prudence says well +why dont you take coffy or milk & for Gods sake stay offen my foot & he +turns to her & says maddam do you want T. & slavery & she says no coffy +& a hot dog just kidding him see Ethen & he says maddam no T. shall ever +land & she says no but my husbend will in a bout 1 min. & I was just +going to plank him 1 when the door behint us bust open & a lot of +indyans come in yelling every body down to Grifins worf there is going +to be a T. party only Ethen they wasnt indyans at all but jest wite men +drest up to look like indyans & I says to a fello those aint indyans & +he say no how did you guess it & I says because I have seen real indyans +many a time & he says to a nother fello say Bill here is a man who says +them sent real indyans & the other fello says gosh I dont believe it +& they laffed only the laff was on them Ethen because they wasnt real +indyans & that is only tipical of how you cant tell these Boston swelt +heds nothing & I guess if they had ever seen a real indyan they would of +known better than to laff. Well I and Prudence follered the crowd down +to Grifins worf & them indyans which was only wite men drest up clumb +onto a ship there & begun throwing the cargo into Boston harber & I says +to a fello what is in them boxes & he says T. & I says well why are they +throwing it away & he says because they do not want to pay the tacks +which is about as sensable Ethen if I was to rite a lot of letters & +then as fast as I rote I would tare it up because I did not want to pay +for a stamp. Well I says somebody ought to catch he--ll for this & he +says are you a torie & I seen he was trying to kid me & I says no I am +a congregationalis & a loyal subject of king Geo. Rex & he says o I +thought you was a torie & a lot of fellos who was with him give him the +laff because he hadnt been abel to kid me. Well after a whiles he says +the indyans seem to be about threw & I says yes only they sent indyans +& the laff was on him again & he seen it wasnt no use to try & kid me & +Prudence says come on lets beat it & on the way home I says I bet them +Boston birds will feel small when they find out that those wasnt indyans +at all & she act it like she was mad about something & says well they +cant blame you for not trying to tell them & its a wonder you didnt hire +Fanny Ewell Hall while you was about it & I says o is it & I might know +youd get sore because I was the 1st to find out about the indyans being +wite men in disgised & she says yes I suppose if somebody was to paint +stripes on a cow you would make a speech about it & say that you had +discovered that it wasnt no tiger & I wish I had been 1 of them indyans +tonight because I would of loved to of beened you with a Tommy Hawk & I +says o you would would you & she seen it wasnt no use to argue with me +& anyway Ethen nobody would be fool enough to paint stripes on a cow +unless maybe they was born in Boston. Well Ethen thats the way it goes +& when you do put one over on the wife they want to hit you with a Tommy +Hawk with best rgds. Ed. + +Friend Ethen-- + +No matter what a married man does in this world he gets in wrong & +I suppose if I was to die tonight Prudence would bawl me out for not +having let her know I was going to do it & just because I joined the +minit men the other eve. she has been acting like as if I had joined the +Baptis Church & I bet you are saying what in the h--ll is a minit man. +Well Ethen I will tell you. The other night I says to Prudence I think I +will drive over to Lexington to get Bessy shodd. Bessy is are horse see +Ethen. Well she says you will do nothing of the kind because all you +want to do in Lexington is get a snoot ful & if you think I am going to +wate up all night while you get boiled well you have got another guess +coming. She says the last time you had Bessy shodd the naybers are +talking about it yet & I says do you mean because I & Charley Davis was +singing & having a little fun & she says no because nobody wouldnt call +that singing & do you call it a little fun when you brought Bessy up +stares with you to show me how well she had been shodd at 3 A. M. in the +morning answer me that which is only her way of exagerating things Ethen +because we didnt bring Bessy only as far as the stares & I only did it +because Charley had been drinking a little to much & I didnt want to +iritate him because the way to handel drunks is to not iritate them they +are only worse only you cant tell a woman that & they think the way +to handel drunks is to look him in the eye & say arent you ashamed of +yourselves which only iritates him the moar. Well I says I am not going +to half no horse of mine going a round 1/2 shodd al the time & Prudence +says well I am not going to half no husband of mine going a round 1/2 +shot al the time & I says I will not go near Charley Davis this time +because I have lernt my lesson & she says al right if you will promise +to not go near Charley Davis you can go & when I got to Lexington I +thought I would stop in the taverin a min. just to say hulloh to the +boys because if a fello doesnt stop in the taverin to say hulloh to the +boys who are just as good as he is they are lible to say he has a swelt +hed & is to proud to stop in the taverin to say hulloh to the boys. Who +are just as good as he is. Well I didnt have any i dear that Charley +Davis would be there because I had told Prudence I wasnt going to go +near him & just because I said that I cant be expect it to sneek into +toun like as if I was a convick can I Ethen. Well the taverin was crowd +it & they had all got a good start & the long & the short of it was +that the 1st person I seen was Charley Davis & he says hulloh there +pink whiskers you are just in time to join the minit men which is only a +nicked name he has for me because my whiskers are red brown. No I says I +cannot join anything tonight fellos because I must go right back home +& he says if you dont join the minit men now some day you wont have no +home to go home to & I says what do you mean I wont have no home to go +home to & he says because the Brittish are going to burn down all the +homes of we farmers because we will not sell them any food but first +you had better have a drink. Well Ethen a fello dont like to be a sissey +about taking 1 drink does he & then I says now fellos I must go home +& then a couple of more fellos come in & they said Ed you wont go home +till we have brought you a drink & elect it you to the minit men will +you & I said no but I must go home right after that. Well then we got to +singing & we was going pretty good & after a while I said now fellos I +must go home & Charley Davis says to me Ed before you go I want to have +you shake hands with my friend Tom Duffy who is here from Boston & he +will tell you all about the minit men & you can join tonight but look +out or he will drink you under the tabel because he is the worst fish in +Boston & I says sure only I have got to be going home soon because +you remember what hapend last time & I would like to see any body from +Boston drink me under the tabel & bet. you & I Ethen if that fellow is a +fish then my grandmother is the prince of whales & let me tell you what +hapend. After we had drank about 4 or 5 I seen he was getting sort +of wite & I says well Boston lets settle down now to some good steady +drinking & he says listen & I says what & he says listen & I says what & +he says do you know my wife & I says no & he says listen & I says what & +he says shes the best little woman in the world & I says sure & he says +what did you say & I says when & he says you have insult it my wife the +best little woman in the world & he begun to cry & we had only had a +bout 1 qt & wouldnt that knock you for a cockide gool Ethen, only I +guess you arent surprised knowing how much I can holt without feeling +any affects. Well I was feeling pretty good on acct. of drinking the +pride of Boston under the tabel & not feeling any affects only I was +feeling good like a fello naturely feels & the fellos kind of made a lot +of fuss on acct. me drinking him under the tabel so I couldnt very well +of gone home then & after a while Charley Davis made a speech & well +comed me into the minit men & so I am a minit man Ethen but I cant +exackly explain it to you until I see Charley again because he didnt +make it very clear that night. Well after a while we woke the Boston +fish up & we all went home & I was feeling pretty good on acct. it being +such a nice night & all the stars being out & etc. & when I got home I +said Prudence guess what hapend & she says I can guess & I says Prudence +I have been elect it a minit man & she says well go on up stares & sleep +it off & I says sleep what off & she says stop talking so loud do you +want the naybers to wake up & I says whos talking loud & she says o go +to bed & I says I am talking in conversational tones & she says well +you must be conversing with somebody in Boston & I says o you mean that +little blond on Beecon St. & Ethen she went a 1,000,000 mi. up in the +air & I seen it wasnt no use to try & tell her that the reason I was +feeling good was on acct. having drank a Boston swelt hed to sleep +without feeling any affects & I bet the next time I get a chanct I am +going to get snooted right because a fello gets blamed just as much if +he doesnt feel the affects as if he was brought home in a stuper & I +was just kidding her about that blond on Beecon St. Some women dont know +when they are well off Ethen & I bet that guy from Bostons Tom Duffy +I mean wife wishes she was in Prudences shoes instead of her having +married a man what cant holt no more than a qt. without being brought +home in a stuper. Best rgds. Ed. + +Friend Ethen-- + +Well Ethen this is a funny world & when I joined the minit men last mo. +how was I to know that they called them minit men because they was lible +to get shot any minit. & here I am riteing to you in a tent outside +Boston & any minit a canon ball is lible to knock me for a continental +loop & my house has been burnt & Prudence is up in Conk Cord with her +sister the one who married that short skate dum bell Collins who has +owed me 2 lbs. for a yr. & 1/2 well Ethen it never ranes but it pores & +you can be glad you are liveing in a nice quiet place like Philly. + +Well the other night I and Prudence was sound asleep when I heard some +body banging at the frt. door & I stuck my head out the up stares window +& I says who are you & he says I am Paul Revear & I says well this is a +h--ll of a time to be wakeing a peaceiful man out of their bed what do +you want & he says the Brittish are comeing & I says o are they well +this is the 19 of April not the 1st & I was going down stares to plank +him 1 but he had rode away tow wards Lexington before I had a chanct +& as it turned out after words the joke was on me O. K. Well who is it +says Prudence Charley Davis again because you might as well come back +to bed if it is & I says no it was some Boston smart alick trying to be +funny & I guess they are soar down there on acct. what hapened to their +prize fish up here last mo. & are trying to get even do you know a Paul +Revear & she says yes there was a boy at school named Paul Revear who +was crazy about me was he dark well Ethen if all the fellos she says has +been crazy about her was layed end to end they would circum navygate the +globe twicet & I says no he was yello & that had her stopt so we went +back to sleep only I couldn't help laffing over the way I had slipt it +across. About Revear being yello. Well along a bout A. M. there was a +lot of gun firing tow wards Lexington & Prudence grabed me & says whets +the shooting for & I says probably that fello Revear who was so crazy +a bout you has got funny oncet to oft ten & it will teach them Boston +doodes a lesson. Well Ethen I was wrong for oncet & the firing kept +getting worse & I hitcht up old Bessy & drove over to Lexington Bessy is +are horse & Ethen there was the h--ll to pay there because the g--d +d--m Brittish redcotes had marcht nup from Boston & had fired on the +Lexington fellos & Charley Davis had been shot dead & a lot of the other +fellos was wooned it & they said you had better get your wife to the +h--ll out of your house because the g--d d--m Brittish redcotes are +coming back & they will burn everything along the rode the ---- I guess +you know what word goes there Ethen & I was so d--m mad at those g--d +d--m Brittish redcotes on acct. shooting Charley Davis dead that I said +give me a gun & show me the ---- who done it & they says no you had +better get your wife to a safe place to go to & then you can come back +because the ---- will be along this way again the ----. Well I drove as +fast as I could back to the farm & somebody had already told Prudence +what had hapend & as soon as I drove into the yd. she come out with my +muskit & hand it it to me & says dont you worry about me but you kill +every d--m redcote you can see & I says the ----s has killed Charley +Davis & she says I know it & here is all the bullits I could find. Well +when I got back to Lexington the redcotes was just coming along & Ethen +I guess they wont forget that march back to Boston for a little whiles +& I guess I wont either because the ----s burnt down my house & barn +& Prudence is gone to stay with her sister in Conk Cord & here I am +camping in a tent with a lot of other minit men on the out skirts of +Boston & there is a roomer a round camp that to morrow we are going to +move over to Bunker Hill which is a good name for a Boston Hill Ill say +& Ethen if you was to of told me a mo. ago that I would be fighting to +get Boston away from the Brittish I would of planked you 1 because they +could of had Boston for all I cared. Well Ethen I must go out and drill +some more now & probably we will half to listen to some Boston bird +makeing a speech they are great fellos for speeches about down with +Brittish tirrany & give me liberty or give me death but if you was +to ast me Ethen I would say give me back that house & barn what those +lousie redcotes burnt & when this excitement is all over what I want to +know is Ethen where do I get off at. Yrs Ed. + + + +Chapter Six + +THE WHISKY REBELLION. + +In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. Burgess + +"Just the DAY for a Whisky Rebellion," said Aunt Polly and off she ran, +lipperty-lipperty-lip, to get a few shooting rifles. + +"Oh goody goody," cried little Emily. "Now we can all shoot at those +horrid Revenue Officers," for the collectors of internal revenue were +far from popular with these kindly Pennsylvania folk and Aunt Polly +Pinkwood had often promised the children that if they were good some day +they would be allowed to take a shot at a Revenue Officer. + +Soon she returned, bearing in her arms a number of bright shiny new +guns. The children crowded around in glee and soon all were supplied +with weapons except little Frank who of course was too young to use a +gun and was given a two-gallon jug of nice, old whisky to carry. Jed +hitched up old Taylor, the faithful farm horse, and as quick as you +could say Jack Robinson the little ones had piled into the old carryall. +Round Mr. Sun was just peeping over the Purple Hills when the merry +little party started on its way, singing and laughing at the prospect of +the day's sport. + +"I bet I kill five Revenue Officers," said little Edgar. + +"Ha Ha Ha--you boaster, you," laughed Aunt Polly. "You will be lucky if +you kill two, for I fear they will be hard to find today." + +"Oh do you think so, Aunt Polly?" said little Elinor and she began to +cry, for Elinor dearly loved to shoot. + +"Hush dear," said Miss Pinkwood with a kindly pat, for she loved her +little charges and it hurt her to see them unhappy. "I was only joking. +And now children I will tell you a story." + +"Oh goody goody," cried they all. "Tell us a true story." + +"All right," said Aunt Polly. "I shall tell you a true story," and she +began. + +"Once there was a brave handsome man--" + +"Mr. Welsbach," cried the children with one voice, for it was well +known in the neighborhood that Aunt Polly had long been sweet on Julius +Welsbach, the popular superintendent of the Sabbath School and the best +whisky maker for miles around. + +"Hush children," said Aunt Polly blushing in vexation. "Of course not. +And if you interrupt me I shall not tell my story at all." But she was +not really angry. + +"And one day this brave handsome man was out making whisky and he had +just sampled some when he looked up and what do you suppose he saw?" + +"Snakes," cried little Elmer whose father had often had delirium +tremens, greatly to the delight of his children. + +"No, Elmer," said Miss Pinkwood, "not snakes." + +"Pink lizards," cried little Esther, Elmer's sister. + +"No," said Aunt Polly, with a hearty laugh, "he saw a--stranger. And +what do you suppose the stranger had?" + +"A snoot full," chorused the Schultz twins. "He was pie-eyed." + +"No," replied Miss Pinkwood laughing merrily. "It was before noon. Guess +again children. What did the stranger have?" + +"Blind staggers," suggested little Faith whose mother had recently been +adjudged insane. + +"Come children," replied Aunt Polly. "You are not very wide awake this +morning. The stranger had a gun. And when the brave handsome man offered +the stranger a drink what do you suppose the stranger said?" + +"I know," cried little Prudence eagerly. "He said, 'Why yes I don't care +if I do.' That's what they all say." + +"No, Prudence," replied Miss Pinkwood. "The stranger refused a drink." + +"Oh come now, Aunt Polly," chorused the boys and girls. "You said you +were going to tell us a true story." And their little faces fell. + +"Children," said Miss Polly, "the stranger refused the drink because he +was a Revenue Officer. And he pointed his gun at the brave handsome man +and said he would have to go to jail because he had not paid the tax on +his whisky. And the brave handsome man would have had to have gone to +jail, too; but fortunately his brother came up just at the right time +and--" + +"Shot the Revenuer dead," cried the children in glee. + +"Yes children," said Miss Polly. "He shot the Revenue Officer dead." + +"Oh goody goody," cried all. "Now tell us another story. Tell us about +the time your father killed a Revenue Officer with an ax." + +"Oh you don't want to hear that again, do you children?" said Aunt +Polly. + +"Oh yes--yes--please," they cried, and Aunt Polly was just going to +begin when Jed the driver stopped his horses and said: + +"This hilltop is as good a place to shoot from as I know of, Miss +Pinkwood. You can see both roads, and nobody can see you." + +"Thank you, Jed," said Aunt Polly giving him a kindly smile, and without +more ado the children clambered out of the carryall and filled their +guns with powder and bullets. + +"I get first shot," proudly announced Robert, the oldest boy, and +somewhat of a bully. + +"Robert!" said Aunt Polly severely, and she looked almost ready to cry, +for Aunt Polly had tried hard to teach the boys to be true knights of +chivalry and it hurt her to have Robert wish to shoot a Revenue Officer +before the girls had had a chance. Robert had not meant to hurt Aunt +Polly's feelings but had only been thoughtless, and soon all was +sunshine again as little Ellen the youngest made ready to fire the first +shot. + +The children waited patiently and soon they were rewarded by the sight +of a Revenue Officer riding on horseback in the distant valley, as +pretty a target as one could wish. + +"Now do be careful, dear," whispered Miss Pinkwood, "for if you miss, he +may take alarm and be off." But little Ellen did not miss. "Bang" went +her gun and the little Merry Breezes echoed back and forth, "She got +him. She got him", and old Mother West Wind smiled down at the happy +sport. Sure enough, when old Mr. Smoke had cleared away there was a nice +dead Revenue Officer lying in the road. "Well done, Ellen," said Miss +Pinkwood, patting her little charge affectionately which caused the +happy girl to coo with childish delight. + +Mary had next shot and soon all were popping away in great glee. All +the merry wood folk gathered near to watch the children at their sport. +There was Johnny Chuck and Reddy Fox and Jimmy Skunk and Bobby Coon and +oh everybody. + +Soon round Mr. Sun was high in the Blue Sky and the children began to +tire somewhat of their sport. "I'm as hungry as a bear," said little +Dick. "I'm as hungry as two bears," said Emily. "Ha Ha Ha," laughed Miss +Pinkwood, "I know what will fix that," and soon she had spread out a +delicious repast. "Now children," said Miss Pinkwood when all had +washed their faces and hands, "while you were busy washing I prepared +a surprise for you," and from a large jug, before their delighted gaze, +she poured out--what do you think? "Bronxes," cried little Harriet. "Oh +goody goody." And sure enough Aunt Polly had prepared a jug of delicious +Bronx cocktails which all pronounced excellent. + +And after that there were sandwiches and olives and pie and good three +year old whisky, too. + +"That's awfully smooth rye, Aunt Polly," said little Prudence smacking +her two red lips. "I think I'll have another shot." + +"No dear," said Miss Pinkwood, pleased by the compliment, but firm +withal. "Not now. Perhaps on the way home, if there is any left," for +Aunt Polly knew that too much alcohol in the middle of the day is bad +for growing children, and she had seen many a promising child spoiled by +over-indulgent parents. + +After lunch those children who could stand helped Aunt Polly to clear +away the dishes and then all went sound asleep, as is the custom in +Pennsylvania. + +When they awoke round Mr. Sun was just sinking behind the Purple Hills +and so, after taking a few more scattered shots at Revenue Officers, +they piled once more into the carryall and drove back to town. And +as they passed Mrs. Oliphant's house (Aunt Polly's sister) Aunt Flo +Oliphant came out on the porch and waved her handkerchief at the merry +party. + +"Let's give her a cheer," said Fred. + +"Agreed," cried they all, and so twelve little throats united in three +lusty "huzzahs" which made Auntie Flo very happy you may be sure. + +And as they drove up before the Pinkwoods' modest home twelve tired but +happy children with one accord voted the Whisky Rebellion capital fun +and Aunt Polly a brick. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT + +In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright + +On a brisk winter evening in the winter of 1864 the palatial Fifth +Avenue "palace" of Cornelius van der Griff was brilliantly lighted with +many brilliant lights. Outside the imposing front entrance a small group +of pedestrians had gathered to gape enviously at the invited guests of +the "four hundred" who were beginning to arrive in elegant equipages, +expensive ball-dresses and fashionable "swallowtails". + +"Hully gee!" exclaimed little Frank, a crippled newsboy who was the only +support of an aged mother, as a particularly sumptuous carriage drove +up and a stylishly dressed lady of fifty-five or sixty stepped out +accompanied by a haughty society girl and an elderly gentleman in +clerical dress. It was Mrs. Rhinelander, a social leader, and her +daughter Geraldine, together with the Rev. Dr. Gedney, pastor of an +exclusive Fifth Avenue church. + +"What common looking people," said Mrs. Rhinelander, surveying the crowd +aristocratically with her lorgnette. + +"Yes, aren't they?" replied the clergyman with a condescending glance +which ill befit his clerical garb. + +"I'm glad you don't have people like that dans votre eglise, Dr. +Gedney," said young Geraldine, who thought it was "smart" to display her +proficiency in the stylish French tongue. At this moment the door of the +van der Griff residence was opened for them by an imposing footman in +scarlet livery and they passed into the abode of the "elect". + +"Hully gee!" repeated little Frank. + +"What's going on to-night?" asked a newcomer. + +"Gee--don't youse know?" answered the newsboy. "Dis is de van der +Griffs' and tonight dey are giving a swell dinner for General Grant. Dat +lady wot just went in was old Mrs. Rhinelander. I seen her pitcher in +de last Harper's Weekly and dere was a story in de paper dis morning dat +her daughter Geraldine was going to marry de General." + +"That isn't so," broke in another. "It was just a rumor." + +"Well, anyway," said Frank, "I wisht de General would hurry up and +come--it's getting cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey." +The onlookers laughed merrily at his humorous reference to the frigid +temperature, although many cast sympathetic looks at his thin threadbare +garments and registered a kindly thought for this brave boy who so +philosophically accepted the buffets of fate. + +"I bet this is him now," cried Frank, and all waited expectantly as a +vehicle drove up. The cabman jumped off his box and held the carriage +door open. + +"Here you are, Miss Flowers," he said, touching his hat respectfully. + +A silver peal of rippling laughter sounded from the interior of the +carriage. + +"Why Jerry," came in velvet tones addressed to the coachman, "You +mustn't be so formal just because I have come to New York to live. +Call me 'Miss Ella,' of course, just like you did when we lived out in +Kansas," and with these words Miss Ella Flowers, for it was she, stepped +out of the carriage. + +A hush fell on the crowd as they caught sight of her face--a hush of +silent tribute to the clear sweet womanhood of that pure countenance. +A young man on the edge of the crowd who was on the verge of becoming +a drunkard burst into tears and walked rapidly away to join the nearest +church. A pr-st---te who had been plying her nefarious trade on the +avenue, sank to her knees to pray for strength to go back to her aged +parents on the farm. Another young man, catching sight of Ella's pure +face, vowed to write home to his old mother and send her the money he +had been expending in the city on drinks and dissipation. + +And well might these city people be affected by the glimpse of the +sweet noble virtue which shone forth so radiantly in this Kansas girl's +countenance. Although born in Jersey City, Ella had moved with her +parents to the west at an early age and she had grown up in the open +country where a man's a man and women lead clean sweet womanly lives. +Out in the pure air of God's green places and amid kindly, simple, big +hearted folks, little Ella had blossomed and thrived, the pride of +the whole country, and as she had grown to womanhood there was many a +masculine heart beat a little faster for her presence and many a manly +blush of admiration came into the features of her admirers as she +whirled gracefully with them in the innocent pleasure of a simple +country dance. But on her eighteenth birthday, her parents had passed on +to the Great Beyond and the heartbroken Ella had come East to live with +Mrs. Montgomery, her aunt in Jersey City. This lady, being socially +prominent in New York's "four hundred", was of course quite ambitious +that her pretty little niece from the West should also enter society. +For the last three months, therefore, Ella had been feted at all the +better class homes in New York and Jersey City, and as Mrs. van der +Griff, the Fifth Avenue social leader, was in the same set as Ella's +aunt, it was only natural that when making out her list of guests for +the dinner in honor of General Grant she should include the beautiful +niece of her friend. + +As Ella stepped from the carriage, her gaze fell upon little Frank, the +crippled newsboy, and her eyes quickly filled with tears, for social +success had not yet caused her to forget that "blessed are the weak". +Taking out her purse, she gave Frank a silver dollar and a warm look of +sympathy as she passed into the house. + +"Gee, there went an angel," whispered the little cripple, and many who +heard him silently echoed that thought in their hearts. Nor were they +far from wrong. + +But even an angel is not free from temptation, and by letting Ella +go into society her aunt was exposing the girl to the whisperings of +Satan--whisperings of things material rather than things spiritual. Many +a girl just as pure as Ella has found her standards gradually lowered +and her moral character slowly weakened by the contact with the +so-called "refined" and "cultured" infidels one meets in fashionable +society. Many a father and mother whose ambition has caused them to have +their daughter go out in society have bitterly repented of that step as +they watched the poor girl gradually succumbing to the temptation of the +world. Let her who thinks it is "smart" to be in society consider that +our brothels with their red plush curtains, their hardwood floors and +their luxurious appointments, are filled largely with the worn out +belles and debutantes of fashionable society. + +The next minute a bugle call sounded down the street and up drove a team +of prancing grays. Two soldiers sprang down from the coachman's box and +stood at rigid attention while the door of the carriage opened and out +stepped General Ulysses S. Grant. + +A murmur of admiration swept over the crowd at the sight of his manly +inspiring features, in which the clean cut virility of a life free from +dissipation was accentuated by the neatly trimmed black beard. His erect +military bearing--his neat, well fitting uniform--but above all his +frank open face proclaimed him a man's man--a man among men. A cheer +burst from the lips of the onlookers and the brave but modest general +lowered his eyes and blushed as he acknowledged their greeting. + +"Men and women," he said, in a voice which although low, one could see +was accustomed to being obeyed, "I thank you for your cheers. It makes +my heart rejoice to hear them, for I know you are not cheering me +personally but only as one of the many men who are fighting for the +cause of liberty and freedom, and for----" the general's voice broke a +little, but he mastered his emotion and went on--"for the flag we all +love." + +At this he pulled from his pocket an American flag and held it up so +that all could see. Cheer after cheer rent the air, and tears came to +the general's eyes at this mark of devotion to the common cause. + +"Wipe the d--d rebels off the face of the earth, G-d d--'em," shouted a +too enthusiastic member of the crowd who, I fear, was a little the worse +for drink. In an instant General Grant had stepped up to him and fixed +upon him those fearless blue eyes. + +"My man," said the general, "It hurts me to hear you give vent to those +oaths, especially in the presence of ladies. Soldiers do not curse, and +I think you would do well to follow their example." + +The other lowered his head shamefacedly. "General," he said, "You're +right and I apologize." + +A smile lit up the general's handsome features and he extended his hand +to the other. + +"Shake on it," he said simply, and as the crowd roared its approval of +this speech the two men "shook". + +Meanwhile within the van der Griff house all were agog with excitement +in expectation of the arrival of the distinguished guest. Expensively +dressed ladies fluttered here and there amid the elegant appointments; +servants in stylish livery passed to and fro with trays of wine and +other spirituous liquors. + +At the sound of the cheering outside, the haughty Mrs. Rhinelander +patted her daughter Geraldine nervously, and between mother and daughter +passed a glance of understanding, for both felt that to-night, if ever, +was Geraldine's opportunity to win the handsome and popular general. + +The doorbell rang, and a hush fell over the chattering assemblage; +then came the proud announcement from the doorman--"General Ulysses S. +Grant"--and all the society belles crowded forward around the guest of +honor. + +It had been rumored that the general, being a soldier, was ignorant of +social etiquette, but such proved to be far from the case. Indeed, he +handled himself with such ease of manner that he captivated all, and for +each and every young miss he had an apt phrase or a pretty compliment, +greatly to their delight. + +"Pleased to know you"--"Glad to shake the hand of such a pretty +girl"--"What a nice little hand--I wish I might hold it all +evening"--with these and kindred pleasantries the general won the way +into the graces of Mrs. van der Griff's fair guests, and many a female +heart fluttered in her bosom as she gazed into the clear blue eyes of +the soldier, and listened to his well chosen tactful words. + +"And how is the dear General this evening?"--this in the affected tone +of old Mrs. Rhinelander, as she forced her way through the crowd. + +"Finer than silk," replied he, and he added, solicitously, "I hope you +have recovered from your lumbago, Mrs. Rhinelander." + +"Oh quite," answered she, "and here is Geraldine, General," and the +ambitious mother pushed her daughter forward. + +"Comment vous portez vous, mon General," said Geraldine in French, "I +hope we can have a nice tete-a-tete to-night," and she fawned upon her +prey in a manner that would have sickened a less artificial gathering. + +Were there not some amid all that fashionable throng in whom ideals +of purity and true womanhood lived--some who cared enough for the +sacredness of real love to cry upon this hollow mockery that was being +used to ensnare the simple, honest soldier? There was only one, and she +was at that moment entering the drawing room for the purpose of being +presented to the general. Need I name her? + +Ella, for it was she, had been upstairs busying herself with her toilet +when General Grant had arrived and she now hurried forward to pay her +homage to the great soldier. And then, as she caught sight of his face, +she stopped suddenly and a deep crimson blush spread over her features. +She looked again, and then drew back behind a nearby portiere, her heart +beating wildly. + +Well did Ella remember where she had seen that countenance before, and +as she stood there trembling the whole scene of her folly came back to +her. It had happened in Kansas, just before her parents died, on one +sunny May morning. She had gone for a walk; her footsteps had led her to +the banks of a secluded lake where she often went when she wished to be +alone. Many an afternoon had Ella dreamed idly away on this shore, but +that day, for some reason, she had felt unusually full of life and not +at all like dreaming. Obeying a thoughtless but innocent impulse, with +no intention of evil, she had taken off her clothes and plunged thus +n-k-d into the cool waters of the lake. After she had swum around a +little she began to realize the extent of her folly and was hurriedly +swimming towards the shore when a terrific cramp had seized her lower +limbs, rendering them powerless. Her first impulse, to scream for help, +was quickly checked with a deep blush, as she realized the consequences +if a man should hear her call, for nearby was an encampment of Union +soldiers, none of whom she knew. The perplexed and helpless girl was in +sore straits and was slowly sinking for the third time, when a bearded +stranger in soldier's uniform appeared on the bank and dove into the +water. To her horror he swam rapidly towards her--but her shame was soon +changed to joy when she realized that he was purposely keeping his eyes +tight shut. With a few swift powerful strokes he reached her side, and, +blushing deeply, took off his blue coat, fastened it around her, opened +his eyes, and swam with her to the shore. Carrying her to where she had +left her clothes he stayed only long enough to assure himself that she +had completely recovered the use of her limbs, and evidently to spare +her further embarrassment, had vanished as quickly and as mysteriously +as he had appeared. + +Many a night after that had Ella lain awake thinking of the splendid +features and, the even more splendid conduct of this unknown knight who +wore the uniform of the Union army. "How I love him," she would whisper +to herself; "but how he must despise me!" she would cry, and her pillow +was often wet with tears of shame and mortification at her folly. + +It was shortly after this episode that her parents had taken sick and +passed away. Ella had come East and had given up hope of ever seeing her +rescuer again. You may imagine her feelings then when, on entering the +drawing room at the van der Griffs', she discovered that the stranger +who had so gallantly and tactfully rescued her from a watery grave was +none other than General Ulysses S. Grant. + +The poor girl was torn by a tumult of contrary emotions. Suppose he +should remember her face. She blushed at the thought. And besides what +chance had she to win such a great man's heart in competition with these +society girls like Geraldine Rhinelander who had been "abroad" and spoke +French. + +At that moment one of the liveried servants approached the general with +a trayful of filled wine glasses. So engrossed was the soldier hero +in talking to Geraldine--or, rather, in listening to her alluring +chatter--that he did not at first notice what was being offered him. + +"Will you have a drink of champagne wine, General?" said Mrs. van der +Griff who stood near. + +The general raised his head and frowned as if he did not understand. + +"Come, mon General," cried Geraldine gayly, "We shall drink a votre +succes dans la guerre," and the flighty girl raised a glass of wine on +high. Several of the guests crowded around and all were about to drink +to the general's health. + +"Stop," cried General Grant suddenly realizing what was being done, and +something in the tone of his voice made everyone pause. + +"Madam," said he, turning to Mrs. van der Griff, "Am I to understand +that there is liquor in those glasses?" + +"Why yes, General," said the hostess smiling uneasily. "It is just a +little champagne wine." + +"Madam," said the general, "It may be 'just champagne wine' to you, +but 'just champagne wine' has ruined many a poor fellow and to me all +alcoholic beverages are an abomination. I cannot consent, madam, to +remain under your roof if they are to be served. I have never taken +a drop--I have tried to stamp it out of the army, and I owe it to my +soldiers to decline to be a guest at a house where wine and liquor are +served." + +An excited buzz of comment arose as the general delivered this +ultimatum. A few there were who secretly approved his sentiments, but +they were far too few in numbers and constant indulgence in alcohol had +weakened their wills so that they dared not stand forth. An angry flush +appeared on the face of the hostess, for in society, "good form" is more +important than courage and ideals, and by his frank statement General +Grant had violently violated the canons of correct social etiquette. + +"Very well, Mr. Grant," she said, stressing the "Mr."--"if that's the +way you feel about it----" + +"Stop," cried an unexpected voice, and to the amazement of all Ella +Flowers stepped forward, her teeth clenched, her eyes blazing. + +"Stop," she repeated, "He is right--the liquor evil is one of the worst +curses of modern civilization, and if General Grant leaves, so do I." + +Mrs. van der Griff hesitated for an instant, and then suddenly forced a +smile. + +"Why Ella dear, of course General Grant is right," said she, for it was +well known in financial circles that her husband, Mr. van der Griff, had +recently borrowed heavily from Ella's uncle. "There will not be a drop +of wine served to-night, and now General, shall we go in to dinner? Will +you be so kind as to lead the way with Miss Rhinelander?" The hostess +had recovered her composure, and smiling sweetly at the guest of honor, +gave orders to the servants to remove the wine glasses. + +But General Grant did not hear her; he was looking at Ella Flowers. And +as he gazed at the sweet beauty of her countenance he seemed to feel +rising within him something which he had never felt before--something +which made everything else seem petty and trivial. And as he looked into +her eyes and she looked into his, he read her answer--the only answer +true womanhood can make to clean, worthy manhood. + +"Shall we go a la salle-a-manger?" sounded a voice in his ears, and +Geraldine's sinuous arm was thrust through his. + +General Grant took the proffered talon and gently removed it from him. + +"Miss Rhinelander," he said firmly, "I am taking this young lady as my +partner," and suiting the action to the word, he graciously extended his +arm to Ella who took it with a pretty blush. + +It was General Grant's turn to blush when the other guests, with a few +exceptions, applauded his choice loudly, and made way enthusiastically +as the handsome couple advanced to the brilliantly lighted dining room. + +But although the hostess had provided the most costly of viands, I am +afraid that the brave general did not fully appreciate them, for in his +soul was the joy of a strong man who has found his mate and in his heart +was the singing of the eternal song, "I love her--I love her--I love +her!" + +It was only too apparent to the other guests what had happened and to +their credit be it said that they heartily approved his choice, for +Mrs. Rhinelander and her scheming daughter Geraldine had made countless +enemies with their haughty manners, whereas the sweet simplicity of +Ella Flowers had won her numerous friends. And all laughed merrily when +General Grant, in his after dinner speech, said "flowers" instead of +"flour" when speaking of provisioning the army--a slip which caused both +the general and Miss Flowers to blush furiously, greatly to the delight +of the good-natured guests. "All the world loves a lover"--truer words +were never penned. + +After dinner, while the other men, according to the usages of best +society, were filling the air of the dining room with the fumes of +nicotine, the general, who did not use tobacco, excused himself--amid +many sly winks from the other men--and wandered out into the +conservatory. + +There he found Ella. + +"General," she began. + +"Miss Flowers," said the strong man simply, "Call me Ulysses." + +And there let us leave them. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +CUSTER'S LAST STAND + +In the Manner of Edith Wharton + +It was already late afternoon and the gas street lamps of the Boul' +Mich' were being lighted for Paris, or at least for Paris in summer, by +a somewhat frigid looking allumeur, when Philip Custer came to the +end of his letter. He hesitated for an instant, wrote "Your----," then +crossed that out and substituted "Sincerely." No, decidedly the first +ending, with its, as is, or, rather, as ordinarily is, the case in +hymeneal epistles, somewhat possessive sense, would no longer suffice. +"Yours truly"--perhaps; "sincerely"--better; but certainly not "Your +husband." He was done, thank God, with presences. + +Philip sipped his absinthe and gazed for an instant through the Cafe +window; a solitary fiacre rattled by; he picked up the result of his +afternoon's labor, wearily. + +"Dear Mary," he read, "When I told you that my employers were sending +me to Paris, I lied to you. It was, perhaps, the first direct lie that I +ever told you; it was, I know now, the last. But a falsehood by word of +mouth mattered really very little in comparison with the enormous lie +that my life with you had become." + +Philip paused and smiled, somewhat bitterly, at that point in the +letter. Mary, with her American woman's intuition, would undoubtedly +surmise that he had run off with Mrs. Everett; there was a certain +ironical humor in the fact that Mary's mistaken guess would be sadly +indicative of her whole failure to understand what her husband was, to +use a slang expression, "driving at." + +"I hope that you will believe me when I say that I came to Paris to +paint. In the past four years the desire to do that has grown steadily +until it has mastered me. You do not understand. I found no one in +America who did. I think my mother might have, had she lived; certainly +it is utterly incomprehensible to father." + +Philip stopped. Ay, there was the rub--General Custer, and all that he +stood for. Philip glimpsed momentarily those early boyhood days with his +father, spent mainly in army posts; the boy's cavalry uniform, in which +he had ridden old Bess about the camp, waving his miniature sabre; the +day he had been thrown to the ground by a strange horse which he had +disobediently mounted, just as his father arrived on the scene. +Philip had never forgotten his father's words that day. "Don't crawl, +son,--don't whine. It was your fault this time and you deserved what you +got. Lots of times it won't be your fault, but you'll have to take +your licking anyway. But remember this, son--take your medicine like a +man--always." + +Philip groaned; he knew what the general would say when the news of his +son's desertion of his wife and four year old boy reached him. He knew +that he never could explain to his father the absolute torture of the +last four years of enervating domesticity and business mediocrity--the +torture of the Beauty within him crying for expression, half satisfied +by the stolen evenings at the art school but constantly growing stronger +in its all-consuming appeal. No, life to his father was a simple problem +in army ethics--a problem in which duty was "a", one of the known +factors; "x," the unknown, was either "bravery" or "cowardice" when +brought in contact with "a". Having solved this problem, his father +had closed the book; of the higher mathematics, and especially of those +complex problems to which no living man knew the final answer, he had no +conception. And yet---- + +Philip resumed his reading to avoid the old endless maze of subtleties. + +"It is not that I did not--or do not--love you. It is, rather, that +something within me is crying out--something which is stronger than +I, and which I cannot resist. I have waited two years to be sure. +Yesterday, as soon as I reached here, I took my work to the man who is +considered the finest art critic in Paris. He told me that there was a +quality to my painting which he had seen in that of no living artist; he +told me that in five years of hard work I should be able to produce work +which Botticelli would be proud to have done. Do you understand that, +Mary--Botticelli! + +"But no, forgive me. My paean of joy comes strangely in a letter which +should be of abject humility for what must seem to you, to father, and +to all, a cowardly, selfish act of desertion--a whining failure to face +life. Oh dear, dear Mary if you could but understand what a hell I have +been through--" + +Philip took his pen and crossed out the last line so that no one could +read what had been there. + +"Materially, of course, you and little George will be better off; the +foolish pride with which I refused to let your parents help us now +no longer stands in their way. You should have no difficulty about a +divorce. + +"You can dispose of my things as you see fit; there is nothing I care +about keeping which I did not bring. + +"Again, Mary, I cannot ask you to forgive, or even to understand, but I +do hope that you will believe me when I say that this act of mine is +the most honest thing I have ever done, and that to have acted out the +tragi-comedy in the part of a happy contented husband would have made of +both of our lives a bitter useless farce. Sincerely, Philip." + +He folded the pages and addressed the envelope. + +"Pardon, Monsieur"--a whiff of sulphur came to his nose as the waiter +bent over the table to light the gas above him. "Would Monsieur like +to see the journal? There is a most amusing story about---- The bill, +Monsieur? Yes--in a moment." + +Philip glanced nervously through the pages of the Temps. He was anxious +to get the letter to the post--to have done with indecision and worry. +It would be a blessed relief when the thing was finally done beyond +chance of recall; why couldn't that stupid waiter hurry? + +On the last page of the newspaper was an item headlined "Recent News +from America." Below was a sub-heading "Horrible Massacre of Soldiers by +Indians--Brave Stand of American Troopers." He caught the name "Custer" +and read: + +"And by his brave death at the hands of the Indians, this gallant +American general has made the name of Custer one which will forever be +associated with courage of the highest type." + +He read it all through again and sat quietly as the hand of Polyphemus +closed over him. He even smiled a little--a weary, ironic smile. + +"Monsieur desires something more, perhaps"--the waiter held out the +bill. + +Philip smiled. "No--Monsieur has finished--there is nothing more." + +Then he repeated slowly, "There is nothing more." + +* * * * * + +Philip watched his son George blow out the twelve candles on his +birthday cake. + +"Mother," said George, "when I get to be eighteen, can I be a soldier +just like grandfather up there?" He pointed to the portrait of Philip's +father in uniform which hung in the dining room. + +"Of course you can, dear," said his mother. "But you must be a brave +boy". + +"Grandfather was awful brave, wasn't he father?" This from little Mary +between mouthfuls of cake. + +"Yes, Mary," Philip answered. "He was very, very brave." + +"Of course he was," said George. "He was an American." + +"Yes," answered Philip, "That explains it.--he was an American." + +Mrs. Custer looked up at the portrait of her distinguished +father-in-law. + +"You know Philip, I think it must be quite nice to be able to paint a +picture like that. I've often wondered why you never kept up your art." + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +"FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD" + +A DRAMA OF THE GREAT WAR + +Act I: In the Manner of Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews + +Act 2: In the Manner of Eugene O'Neill + +ACT ONE + +(Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews) + +SCENE I + + A principal street of an American city in the spring of 1918. + +At the rear of the stage, representing the opposite sidewalk of the +street, are gathered many people come to bid farewell to the boys of the +Blankth regiment who are soon to march past on their way to France. + +Extending across the "street", from footlights to "sidewalk", is a large +white plaster arch, gayly decorated with the Allied colors. + +On this arch is the inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + +At the rising of the curtain, distant march music is heard (off stage, +right); this constantly grows louder during the ensuing dialogue which +takes place between three elderly women crowded together at the edge +of the sidewalk. These women, although, before the war, of different +stations in social rank, are now united, as are all mothers in the +Allied countries, by the glorious badge which each proudly wears pinned +over her heart--the service star. + +The Professor's Wife--I hear them coming. + +The Street-cleaner's Wife--So do I. I hope my boy Pat sees me. + +The Pawnbroker's Wife--I told my Jean where to look. + +The approaching music and the cheering of the spectators drowns out +further conversation. + +Enter (right) the regimental band playing the "Stars and Stripes +Forever." They march through the arch and exit left. Following them +comes the flag, at the sight of which all the male spectators (young +boys and men too old to fight) remove their hats. After the colors come +the troops, splendid clean faced fellows, in whose eyes shines the light +of civilization's ideals, in whose ears rings the never forgettable cry +of heroic France and brave little Belgium. The boys are marching four +abreast, with a firm determined step; it is as though each man were +saying to himself "They shall not pass." + +After the first few squads have marched through the arch and off left, +the command is issued off-stage "Company--HALT." A young lieutenant +repeats this order to his men, and the column comes to a stop. The men +stand at attention until given the command "Rest", when they relax and +a murmur of conversation arises from the ranks, in which characteristic +sentences "German ideals are not our ideals" and "Suppose it was your +own sister" show only too well what the boys are thinking of day and +night. + +As the column halts, the three service star mothers rush out from the +curb and embrace their sons who happen to be in this company. At the +same time a very attractive girl runs up to the young lieutenant. + + The Lieutenant--Ellen! + His Fiancee--John! + The Professor's Son} + The Streetcleaner's Son } Mother! + The Pawnbroker's Son } + + The Professor's Wife } + The Streetcleaner's Wife } My Boy! + The Pawnbroker's Wife } + Voice off stage--Company--Atten SHUN! + +The farewells are said, the men come to attention. + +Voice off stage--Forward--MARCH + +The Lieutenant--(Pointing with his sword to the inscription on the +arch)--Forward for the Freedom of the World--MARCH. + +The men's teeth click together, their heads are thrown back, and with a +light in their eyes that somehow suggests Joan of Arc the Crusaders move +on. + + SCENE 2 + + Three months later. + +A section of an American front line trench now occupied by the Blankth +regiment. + +It is early morning and the three soldiers mentioned in Scene 1 are +conversing together for perhaps the last time, for soon they are to be +given the chance which every American man desires more than anything in +the world--the opportunity to go "over the top". + +The Professor's Son--Well fellows, in a few minutes we shall be able to +show the people at home that their boys are not cowards when the fate of +civilization is at stake. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--Here's a newspaper clipping mother sent me. It's +from a speech made the other day in Congress. (He reads) "And we and our +children--and our children's children will never forget the debt we owe +those brave boys who are now in France." + +The Streetcleaner's Son--That makes a fellow feel pretty good inside, +doesn't it? It makes me glad I'm doing my bit--and after the war I hope +the ideals which have inspired us all will make us better citizens in a +better world. + +The Professor's Son--Not only will we be better citizens--not only will +the torch of liberty shine more brightly--but also each one of us will +go back to his job with a deeper vision. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--That's right I am a musician--a pianist, you +know--and I hope that after the war I shall be able to tell America, +through my music, of the glory of this holy cause. + +The Professor's Son--I didn't know you were a pianist. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--Yes--ever since I was a boy--I have had no other +interest. My father tried to make me go into his shop but I couldn't +stand it. He got angry and refused to support me; I had a hard time +until I won a scholarship at a New York musical college. Just before the +war I had a chance to play the Schumann concerto with the Philharmonic; +the critics all said that in another year I would be--but fellows--you +must think me frightfully conceited to talk so, and besides what matters +my musical career in comparison with the sacrifice which everyone is +making? + +The Streetcleaner's Son--And gladly making, too, for it is easy to give +up all, as did Joan of Arc, for France. Attention, men! here comes one +of our officers. + + The three stand at attention. + +Enter the Lieutenant. + +The Lieutenant--Well, men, do you feel ready? + +The Three--More than ready, sir--eager. + +The Lieutenant--Brave men! (To the Professor's Son) Come here a minute, +Keating. I have something to ask you before we go over the top. + +The Professor's Son and the Lieutenant go to one side. + +The Lieutenant--(To the other two in a kindly manner)--At ease! + +The Streetcleaner's Son--Thank you, sir. + +They relax from their rigid posture of "attention". + +The Lieutenant--(To the Professor's Son)--Keating, when we "go over", +we--may--never come back, you know. And I want to ask a favor of you. +I am engaged--to a girl back home--here is her picture (he draws a +photograph from his inner breast pocket and shows it to the Professor's +Son.) + +The Professor's Son--She is beautiful, Sir. + +The Lieutenant--(Putting the photograph back in his pocket)--Yes very +beautiful. And (dropping his eyes)--I love her. If--if I should "go +west" I want you to write her and tell her that my last thoughts were of +my country and--her. We are to be married--after the war--if (suddenly +clearing his throat). Her name is Ellen Radcliff--here, I'll write the +address down for you. + +He does so, and hands the slip of paper to the Professor's Son, who +discreetly turns away. + +The Lieutenant--(Brusquely)--That's all, Keating. + +A bugle sounds. + +The Lieutenant--Attention men! At the next bugle call you go over the +top--remember that you are Americans and that Americans know how to +fight and die in the cause of liberty and for the freedom of the world. +The Three Soldiers--We are ready to make the supreme sacrifice if need +be. + + The bugle sounds. + +The Lieutenant--(Climbing up the ladder to the top of the +trench)--Follow me, men-- + +The Three Soldiers--(Climbing up after him)--Lafayette--we come, though +poppies bloom in Flanders field. + +They go "over the top". + +SCENE 3 + + A section of a Hun trench a minute later. Two Hun soldiers are +conversing together; another Hun is reading a copy of Nietzsche. + +First Hun Soldier--And then we cut the hands off all the little +children--oh it was wonderful. + +Second Hun Soldier--I wish I had been there. + + A Hun Lieutenant rushes in. + +The Hun Lieutenant--(Kicking the three men and brandishing his +revolver)--Swine--wake up--here come the Americans. + + The three spring to their feet and seize their guns. At the top +of the trench appears the American lieutenant, closely followed by the +three soldiers. + +The American Lieutenant--(Coolly)--We come to avenge the sinking of the +Lusitania. + +The Hun Lieutenant--Hoch der Kaiser! Might is stronger than right! + + He treacherously tries to shoot the American but the Professor's +Son disarms him with his bayonet. The three Hun soldiers offer a show of +resistance. + +The Streetcleaner's Son--(To first Hun soldier)--Your hands are unclean +with the murder of innocent women and children. + +First Hun Soldier--(Dropping his gun)--Kamerad! + +The Pawnbroker's Son--(To the other Hun soldiers)--Prussianism has +destroyed the Germany of Bach and Beethoven and you fellows know it, +too. + +Second and third Hun Soldiers--(Dropping their guns)--Kamerad! + +The American Lieutenant--Men--you have kept the faith. I am proud of +you. Forward! + + An explosion (not too loud to annoy the audience) is heard off +stage right. + +The Professor's Son--(Sinking to the ground) Fellows, I'm afraid they've +got me. + +The Streetcleaner's Son--What a shame! + +The Lieutenant--Is there anything we can do to ease the pain? + +The Professor's Son--(Weakening rapidly) No--go on, boys, carry +the--banner of--civilization's ideals--forward--without me--Tell mother +I'm glad--I did--my bit--for the freedom--of the world--fellows, the +only--thing--I regret--is that I won't--be able to be with you--when +you--go back--to enjoy the gratitude--of America--good-bye, fellows, may +you drink--to the full--the rewards of a grateful nation. + +He dies. The others regretfully leave him behind as they push on after +the fleeing Huns. + +The stage is slowly darkened--the noise of battle dies away. + +Enter an Angel in the uniform of the Y.M.C.A. She goes up to the fallen +hero and taking him in her arms tenderly carries him off the stage. + +CURTAIN + +TWO YEARS PASS + +ACT TWO + +(Eugene O'Neill) + +SCENE I + + The bedroom of a bachelor apartment in New York City in the Fall +of 1920. + +There is about the room an air of neglect, as though the occupant did +not particularly give a damn whether he slept in this room or in hell. +This is evidenced in a general way by the absence of any attempts at +decoration and by the presence of dirty laundry and unopened letters +scattered about the room. + +The furniture consists of a bed and a bureau; at the foot of the former +is a trunk such as was used by American army officers in the recent war. + +Although it is three in the morning, the bed is unoccupied. The electric +light over the bureau has been left lighted. + +The lamp flickers and goes out for a minute; when it again flashes on, +the Angel and the Professor's Son are seen standing in the room, as +though they had come there directly from the close of the preceding act; +the Angel, however, has completely removed all Y.M.C.A. insignia and +now has a beard and chews tobacco; from time to time he spits out of the +window. + +The angel--Why the hell weren't you satisfied to stay in heaven? + +The Professor's Son--Well, I just wanted to see my old buddies once +more--I want to see them enjoying the gratitude of the world. + +The Angel--Hmmmm--well, this is where your Lieutenant now lives--and I +think I hear him coming. + + They step behind a curtain. The noise of a key rattling in a +lock is heard, then a light flashes on in the next room. The sound of +unsteady footsteps--a vase is knocked over--a curse--then enter the +Lieutenant. + +He wears a dinner-coat, one sleeve of which hangs empty. His face is +white, his eyes set, his mouth hard and hopeless. He is drunk--not +hilariously--but with the drunkenness of despair. + +He sits down on the bed and remains for several minutes, his head in his +hands. + +The Lieutenant--God, I'm drunk--(after a pause)--drunk again--well, +what of it--what the hell difference does it make--get drunk if I want +to--sure I will--get drunk--that's the dope DRUNK--oh Christ--! + +He throws himself on the bed and after lying there a few minutes sits +up. + +The Lieutenant--Gotta have another drink--can't go sleep, God +damn it--brain too clear--gotta kill brain--that's the dope--kill +brain--forget--wipe out past-- + +He opens the trunk in his search for liquor. He suddenly pulls out his +lieutenant's coat and holds it up. + +The Lieutenant--There's that God damn thing--never wanted to see it +again--wound stripes on right sleeve, too--hurrah for brave soldier--arm +shot off to--to make world safe for democracy--blaa--the god damn +hypocrites--democracy hell--arm shot off because I wasn't clever enough +to stay out of it--ought to have had sense enough to join the--the +ordinance department or--or the Y.M.C.A. + +He feels aimlessly through the pockets of the coat. Suddenly, from the +inside breast pocket he draws out something--a photograph-- + +The Lieutenant--Ellen! Oh God! + +He gazes at the picture for a long time. + +The Lieutenant--Yes, Ellen, I should have joined the Y.M.C.A. shouldn't +I?--where they don't get their arms shot off--couldn't marry a man with +one arm, could you?--of course not--think of looking at an empty +sleeve year after year--children might be born with only one arm, +too--children--oh God damn you, Ellen, you and your Y.M.C.A. husband! + + He tears the picture in two and hurls it into the trunk. Then he +sinks onto the bed, sobbing drunkenly. After a few minutes, he walks +over to the trunk and picks up one half of the torn picture. He turns it +over in his hand and reads the writing on the back. + +The Lieutenant (Reading)--"I'm waiting for you, dear--when you have done +your bit 'for the freedom of the world'." + +He smiles, wearily, and reaches down to pick up the other half of the +picture. His eye is caught by something shiny; it is his army revolver. +He slowly picks it up and looks at it for a long time. + +The Lieutenant--For the freedom of the world-- + +He quickly opens his top bureau drawer and takes out a box of +cartridges. One of these he inserts in a chamber of his revolver. + +The Lieutenant--For the FREEDOM-- + +He laughs. + +As the curtain falls he presses the revolver against his temple and +fires. + + SCENE 2 + + A bare room in a boarding house. To the left is a bed, to the +right a grand piano--the latter curiously out of keeping with the other +cheap furnishings. The room is in partial darkness. + +The door slowly swings open; the Angel and the Professor's Son enter. + +The Angel--And here you have the room of your friend the Pawnbroker's +Son--the musical genius--with a brilliant future. + +They hide in a closet, leaving the door partly open. + +Enter Jean, the Pawnbroker's Son. He has on a cutaway suit--a relic +of his first and last public concert before the war. His shoulders sag +dejectedly and his face is drawn and white. He comes in and sits on the +bed. A knock--a determined knock--is heard at the door but Jean does not +move. The door opens and his landlady--a shrewish, sharp faced woman of +40--appears. He gets up off the bed when he sees her and bows. + +The Landlady--I forgot you was deef or I wouldn't have wasted my time +hitting my knuckles against your door. + +Jean gazes at her. + +The Landlady--Well Mr. Rosen I guess you know why I'm here--it's pay up +today or get out. + +Jean--Please write it down--you know I cannot hear a word you say. I +suppose it's about the rent. + +The landlady takes paper and pencil and writes. + +The Landlady--(Reading over the result of her +labor)--"To-day--is--the--last day. If you can't pay, you must get out." + +She hands it to Jean and he reads. + +Jean--But I cannot pay. Next week perhaps I shall get work-- + +The Landlady--(Scornfully)--Yes--Next week maybe I have to sell another +liberty bond for seventy dollars what I paid a hundred dollars for, too. +No sir I need the money NOW. Here-- + + She writes and hands it to him. + +Jean (Reading)--Sell my piano? But please I cannot do that--yet. + +The Landlady--A lot of good a piano does a deef person like you. That's +a good one--( She laughs harshly). The deef musician--ho ho--with a +piano. + +Jean--Madam, I shall pay you surely next week. There has been some delay +in my war risk insurance payment. I should think that you would trust a +soldier who lost his hearing in the trenches-- + +The Landlady--That's old stuff. You soldiers think just because you +were unlucky enough to get drafted you can spend the rest of your +life patting yourselves on the back. Besides--what good did the war do +anyway--except make a lot of rich people richer? + +She scribbles emphatically "Either you pay up tonight or out you go." + +Handing this to Jean with a flourish, she exits. + + He sits on the bed for a long time. + +Finally he glances up at the wall over his bed where hangs a cheap photo +frame. In the center is a picture of President Wilson; on one side of +this is a crude print of a soldier, on the other side a sailor; above is +the inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + +Jean takes down the picture and looks at it. As he replaces it on the +wall he sees hanging above it the bayonet which he had carried through +the war. He slowly takes the weapon down, runs his fingers along the +edge and smiles--a quiet tired smile which does not leave his face +during the rest of the scene. + +He walks over to the piano and plays the opening chords of the Schumann +concerto. Then shaking his head sadly, he tenderly closes down the lid +and locks it. + +He next writes a note which he folds and places, with the key to the +piano, in an envelope. Sealing and addressing the envelope, he places +it on the piano. Then, walking over to the bed, he picks up the bayonet, +and shutting his eyes for an instant, he steps forward and cuts his +throat as the curtain falls. + + SCENE 3 + + Same as Act 1, Scene 1 except for the changes made in the city +street by a year or more of peace. + +The arch across the thoroughfare still stands, although it has become +badly discolored and dirty; the inscription "For the Freedom of the +World" is but faintly visible. As the curtain rises workmen are busy at +work tearing the arch down. + + Enter the Angel and the Professor's Son. + +The Angel--Stand over here, out of the way, and you'll see the last of +your cronies--Pat, the Streetcleaner's Son--enjoying the gratitude of +the world. + +The Professor's Son does not answer. + + Enter Pat. He has on an old pair of corduroy trousers, with his +brown army shirt, and shoes out at the heel. + +He looks as if he had not slept for days certainly he has not shaved for +a week. He approaches one of the workmen. + +Pat--Say buddy any chance for a job here? + +The Workman--Hell no. They was fifty applicants yesterday. (Looking +at his army shirt) Most of them ex-soldiers like you. Jobs is mighty +scarce. + +Pat--I'll tell the world they are. I'd almost join the army again, +except for my wife and kid. + +The Workman--God--don't do it. + +Pat--Why--was you across? + +The Workman--Yes, God damn it--eight months. Next war I'll let somebody +else do the fighting. + +Pat--Same here. The wise guys were them that stayed at home and kept +their jobs. + +The Workman--I'll say they were. + +Pat--(Growing more excited)--And while we was over there fighting, +nothing was too good for us--"brave boys," they said, "we shall never +forget what you have done for us." Never forget--hell! In about a year +everybody forgot there ever was a war and a fellow has a hell of a time +getting a job--and when you mention the war they just laugh--why God +damn it, I've been out of work for six months and I ain't no loafer +either and my wife has had to go back to her folks and I'm just about +all in-- + + During this speech the work on dismantling the arch has steadily +progressed. Suddenly there comes a warning cry--"Look out"--as the +supports unexpectedly give way. Pat is too engrossed in his tirade to +take heed, and as the center portion of the arch falls it crushes him +beneath its weight. After the cloud of dust clears, he is seen lying +under the mass. By a curious twist of fate he has been crushed by the +portion of the arch bearing the inscription "For the Freedom of the +World." His eyes open for an instant--he reads, through the mist of +approaching death, the words, and he laughs-- + +Pat--For the Freedom of the World--Oh Christ! + +His mocking laughter is interrupted by a severe fit of coughing and he +sinks back dead. + +The Professor's Son--Oh God--take me somewhere where I can't ever see +the world. + +The angel--Come to heaven. + +CURTAIN + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Parody Outline of History, by +Donald Ogden Stewart + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1478 *** diff --git a/1478-h/1478-h.htm b/1478-h/1478-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55c0c1d --- /dev/null +++ b/1478-h/1478-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3890 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Parody Outline of History, by Donald Ogden Stewart + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1478 ***</div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="015 (107K)" src="images/015.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="016 (95K)" src="images/016.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A PARODY OUTLINE OF HISTORY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Donald Ogden Stewart + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wherein may be found a curiously irreverent treatment of + AMERICAN HISTORICAL EVENTS + Imagining them as they would be narrated + by American's most characteristic + contemporary authors + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To + + GILBERT HOLLAND STEWART, Jr. + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Preface + </h2> + <p> + Mr. H. G. Wells, in his "Outline of History," was of necessity forced to + omit the narration of many of the chief events in the history of these + United States. Such omissions I have in this brief volume endeavored to + supply. And as American history can possibly best be written by Americans + and as we have among us no H. G. Wells, I have imagined an American + history as written conjointly by a group of our most characteristic + literary figures. + </p> + <p> + Apologies are due the various authors whose style and, more particularly, + whose Weltanschauung I have here attempted to reproduce; thanks are due + The Bookman for permission to reprint such of these chapters as appeared + in that publication. I give both freely. D. O. S. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary=""> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> Preface </a> + </p> + <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE<br /> I INTRODUCTION: A Critical + Survey of American History In the Manner of <br /> William Lyon + Phelps <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO<br /> II CRISTOFER COLOMBO: A + Comedy of Discovery In the Manner of James <br /> Branch Cabell </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE<br /> III MAIN STREET: + Plymouth, Mass In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR<br /> IV THE COURTSHIP OF, + MILES STANDISH In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE<br /> V THE SPIRIT OF '75: + Letters of a Minute Man In the Manner of Ring <br /> Lardner <br /> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX<br /> VI THE WHISKY REBELLION In + the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. <br /> Burgess <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN<br /> VII HOW LOVE CAME TO + GENERAL GRANT In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT<br /> VIII CUSTER'S LAST STAND + In the Manner of Edith Wharton <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE<br /> IX FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE + WORLD: A Drama of the Great War Act I—In the <br /> Manner of + Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews Act 2—In the Manner of Eugene + <br /> O'Neill <br /> </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <h3> + A CRITICAL SURVEY OF AMERICAN HISTORY + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of William Lyon Phelps + </p> + <p> + On a memorable evening in the year 1904 I witnessed the opening + performance of Maude Adams in "Peter Pan". Nothing in the world can + describe the tremendous enthusiasm of that night! I shall never forget the + moment when Peter came to the front of the stage and asked the audience if + we believed in fairies. I am happy to say that I was actually the first to + respond. Leaping at once out of my seat, I shouted "Yes—Yes!" To my + intense pleasure the whole house almost instantly followed my example, + with the exception of one man. This man was sitting directly in front of + me. His lack of enthusiasm was to me incredible. I pounded him on the back + and shouted, "Great God, man, are you alive! Wake up! Hurrah for the + fairies! Hurrah!" Finally he uttered a rather feeble "Hurrah!" Childe + Roland to the dark tower came. + </p> + <p> + That was my first meeting with that admirable statesman Woodrow Wilson, + and I am happy to state that from that night we became firm friends. When + Mr. Wilson was inaugurated in 1913 I called on him at the White House, + taking with me some members of my Yale drama class. Each one of us had an + edition of the president's admirable "History of the American People", and + I am glad to say that he was kind enough to autograph each of the ten + volumes for all of us. + </p> + <p> + Early in Mr. Wilson's second term as president, just before the break with + Germany, I was sitting in the quiet of my library rereading Browning's + "Cristina". When I came to the third stanza I leaped to my feet—the + thing seemed incredible, but here before my eyes was actually Browning's + prophetic message to America in regard to the submarine sinkings. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! But not so sunk that moments—etc." + It is an extraordinary evidence of the man's genius that in 1840 he should + have perhaps foreseen prophetically the happenings of seventy-six years + later! Not only did Browning seem to know what was bound to happen, but he + told us the remedy. I sat right down and wrote to my good friend the + president, enclosing a marked copy of the poem. On the sixth of April, + 1917, war was declared. + </p> + <p> + May 7, 1912, was the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of Robert + Browning. On that memorable date I was traveling to Ohio at the request of + my dear friend Miss Jones to deliver an address at the Columbus School for + Girls. Curiously enough the name of my Pullman car was Pauline. Not only + did that strike me as remarkable, but I occupied upper berth number 9 in + car 11, two numbers which, added together, produced the exact age at which + Browning published the poem of that name. At once I recited the opening + lines, "Pauline, mine own, bend o'er me—thy soft breast shall pant + to mine—bend o'er me," to the porter. + </p> + <p> + I like to believe that the spirit of Browning arranged that entire + journey, for the other occupant of this well-omened berth was that + admirable statesman Warren G. Harding. When I sat down I noticed that he + was reading Henry Sydnor Harrison's "Queed", a book which was justly + popular at that time. I at once showed Mr. Harding an article I had + written in which I stated that not only was "Queed" a real novel, with a + real plot, and real characters, but that I believed the readers were + stimulated by the spiritual advance of the hero. The future president + agreed with me and said he thought that literature was a great thing. + Encouraged by this I confessed that I was on my way to deliver a lecture + on modern poetry. Mr. Harding replied that he thought poetry was a great + thing. "Splendid!" I cried, and taking a copy of Browning from my bag I + read him several selections. Mr. Harding said that of the American poets + he liked James Whitcomb Riley best. Personally, while I have for Mr. Riley + only wonder and praise, I think that the English poet strikes a more + inspiring, more eternal note. + </p> + <p> + I then read to Mr. Harding Browning's "Evelyn Hope". He said that he knew + a Mrs. Walter Hope in Marion, but that he was not sure her first name was + Evelyn. As I knew that Mr. Harding liked a good pun, I remarked + facetiously that "hope springs eternal", meaning that probably there were + in existence several families of that name. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +I am happy to state that with that meeting began a friendship which +has lasted for many years. When Mr. Harding was nominated for the +presidency, I wrote at once, enclosing a copy of "The Advance of the +English Novel" which I had published in 1916. On the title-page I wrote, +"To the Hero of a Much More Spectacular Advance", meaning that the +progress made by the English novel was as nothing compared to Mr. +Harding's rapid and well-deserved rise. In reply I received the +following: + + 6 July, 1920. MY DEAR +PROFESSOR PHELPS: +</pre> + <p> + Many thanks to you for your congratulations and your kindness in sending + me your brilliant, searching essays which I hope to be able to read in the + near future. WARREN G. HARDING. + </p> + <p> + Just as I am always glad that I am an American, so I think we should all + believe whole-heartedly in the glorious future which lies ahead of us. We + should all pay high tribute to the ideals and sincerity of those great + leaders Woodrow Wilson and Warren Harding. What a pity that some people + believe that there is any antagonism or essential difference in the aims + of those two worthy men. Both are absolutely sincere—both try to + make the world a better, more happy place. And to the critic of history—as + to the critic of art and literature—those are the essential things. + Viewing the past and glimpsing the future of American history I cannot + help feeling that Browning had us perhaps unconsciously in mind when he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + God's in his heaven: All's right with the world! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter Two + </h2> + <p> + CRISTOFER COLOMBO A Comedy of Discovery. In the Manner of James Branch + Cabell + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In fourteen hundred ninety two In the city of Genoa. + —Old Song. +</pre> + <p> + They of Genoa tell with a shrug how in the old days Cristofer Colombo whom + men called the Dreamer left Dame Colombo to go in search of the land of + his imagining. + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells how, on a twilight Thursday, Colombo walked alone on + the edge of a doubtful wood, and viewed many things not salutary to + notice. And there came to him one who was as perversely tall as a certain + unmentionable object and bearded in a manner it is not convenient to + describe. + </p> + <p> + But Colombo set about that which the stranger said was necessary and when + he had finished he drank the contents of the curious skull as had been + foretold on a certain All-Saints day. Then it was that the stranger spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Whom are you", said he, "to be thus wandering in the very unspeakable + forest of the very unnamable sorcerer Thyrston?" + </p> + <p> + Said Colombo, "I have heard of this Thyrston. And while I do not + criticize, yet I cannot entirely agree with your improper use of the + pronoun WHOM, and oh my dear sir", said Colombo, "those two VERYS would + surely—oh, most surely—be mentioned in 'The Conning Tower'." + </p> + <p> + "Eh!" said Thyrston, frowning. + </p> + <p> + "I allude", said Colombo, "to the scribbling of a certain Adams with whom + you are doubtless familiar, and of course, my dear Thyrston", said + Colombo, "I spoke only jestingly, for I am Cristofer Colombo whom men call + the Dreamer, and I go in search of the land of my imagining and it is + truly a pleasure to meet the greatest sorcerer since Ckellyr, and how", + said Colombo, "is dear Mrs. Thyrston?" + </p> + <p> + Then Thyrston showed Colombo what was written on the insecure parchment. + It frightened Colombo a little, but he assented. And when the sorcerer had + borrowed a silk hat and a gold watch he caused the skies to darken and + Colombo saw that which men refuse to believe. + </p> + <p> + "But, oh, now really sir", said Colombo, "that is indeed extremely clever + and I do wish that the children were here to see it and would you mind, my + dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "doing that egg trick again?" + </p> + <p> + Then Thyrston showed Colombo that he had nothing up either sleeve and + after an interval he consented to teach Colombo the secret of his + conjuring. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="046 (85K)" src="images/046.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Why now to be sure", said Colombo, after he had thoroughly mastered the + trick, "that is indeed quite simple and I am sorry I broke those four eggs + by mistake in your silk hat, and while I do not wish to appear + oversensitive, do you not think, my dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "that + the trick would go just as well without those abominable jokes about + married life?" + </p> + <p> + "My dear sir", said Thyrston, "those jokes have been used by every + conjurer since Merlin, and while perhaps without them your trick would + work, yet I have never heard of it being done and I have found", said + Thyrston, "that in sorcery the best results are obtained by doing the + customary thing." + </p> + <p> + "Which only goes to show", said Colombo, "that sorcery is somewhat akin to + business, and now that I think of it", said Colombo, "I believe that the + term wizard of industry is perhaps not entirely a misnomer." + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Colombo took leave of Thyrston, and the tale tells how on + Walburga's Eve he came to the court of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabel. + And as he entered one met him who was not unpleasing to the eye, and she + was weeping. And, as it was somewhat dark, Colombo decided to comfort her. + </p> + <p> + "Now, do you tell me, my dear", said Colombo, after an interval, "why it + is you weep, for I am Colombo whom men call the Dreamer, and I go in + search of the land of my imagining, and I think", said Colombo, "that you + have most remarkably lovely eyes." + </p> + <p> + "Oh messire", said the lady, "I weep because it is this evening that I am + to entertain the ladies of our Progress Literary Club, and Donna Margarita + whom men call the Spanish Omelet, but who really, messire, has a lovely + voice, was going to sing 'The Rosary' and now she has a cold and cannot + sing, and King Ferdinand is coming, and oh, messire, what", said the lady, + "shall I do?" + </p> + <p> + "Why now, truly", said Colombo, "in Genoa it was the judgment of all the + really musically intelligent ladies, except perhaps my wife, that I sang + not an unpleasing baritone, and while I do not know the song to which you + refer, yet I have devoted most of my life to the composition of a poem + concerning the land of my imagining which might well be sung and besides + that", said Colombo, "I can do a most remarkable egg trick." + </p> + <p> + So it was that Colombo became for a short time not undeservedly the life + of the Progress Literary Club party. And the tale tells how, after a paper + by Donna Violet Balboa on "Spanish Architecture—Then and Now", + Colombo sang to them the song of the land of Colombo's imagining. And + poignantly beautiful was the song, for in it was the beauty of a poet's + dream, and the eternal loveliness of that vision which men have glimpsed + in all ages if ever so faintly. And when he had finished, the eyes of + Colombo were wet with tears, for into this poem had he woven the dreams of + his disillusionment. And somewhat ironical to Colombo was the applause of + those fine ladies who did not at all understand. + </p> + <p> + "Now that is a pretty song", said King Ferdinand, "and do you tell us, + Colombo, how one may get to this land, so that I may extend the borders of + my most Catholic Kingdom and spread the teachings of the true faith, for + to bring the world under the blessed influence of my religion is my only + purpose, and really now", said King Ferdinand, "is there as much gold + there as you describe?" + </p> + <p> + "Ah, King Ferdinand", replied Colombo, "there is more gold than ever I can + tell, and I see only too plainly how grievously you suffer to think that + perhaps these people are living in ignorance of the true faith. And I + could ask nothing better than that King Ferdinand give me ships in which I + may sail to the westward and come at last to the land of my imagining. + This I would do in order that the blessed soldiers of King Ferdinand who + will follow me may show to the inhabitants of my discovered land the + grievous errors of their ways and bring them at last to a realization of + the true faith which has been so helpful to our own dear Spain, and", + added Colombo, "our gracious sovereign Ferdinand." + </p> + <p> + And droll it was to Colombo to think what might possibly happen were King + Ferdinand to take his dream seriously or were the King perhaps to be + informed as to the true meaning of Colombo's subtleties. + </p> + <p> + "Well, now", said King Ferdinand, "of course, to fit out such an + expedition would require great expense, my dear Colombo—great + expense. And, of course, you know, Colombo, that when investors can buy + Inquisition 4 1/4's for 89 it would be extremely difficult to raise the + money for such a speculative project—oh, extremely difficult. And + then you must consider the present depression—tell me now, Colombo", + said King Ferdinand, "how long do you think this depression will last, for + I seek, above all things, a return to healthy normalcy." + </p> + <p> + "Well, truly", replied Colombo, "that would be most difficult to say. I + note that on Rodigruez Babsyn's last chart—" + </p> + <p> + "I wish this Babsyn and his charts were in hell", said King Ferdinand, + "for it was he who advised me to sell Queen Isabel's silver holdings. But + it occurs to me, Colombo, that in connection with this land-of-gold scheme + of yours, you mentioned something about sailing to the westward. Now + Colombo, that would be a distinct disadvantage when it came to marketing + the bonds, for as you must already know, one cannot sail to the west + without encountering fierce and enormous monsters who swallow, I am told, + whole ships at a gulp." + </p> + <p> + "Now as to that", said Colombo, somewhat embarrassed at the turn of the + conversation for WEST had merely happened to better suit the rhymes of his + poem, "you may be right, and I should not go so far as to say you are + wrong, but still at the same time", said Colombo, "is there any gentleman + in the audience who can lend me an egg and a silk hat?" + </p> + <p> + And when an unmentionable egg and a doubtful silk hat had been produced in + a manner which it is not convenient to mention Colombo rolled up both his + sleeves and spoke the magic speech as he had learned it on a certain + Thursday from the sorcerer Thyrston. + </p> + <p> + "Ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I have here a common household egg + which I shall now ask the ushers to pass among you so you may see for + yourself that there are no wires or strings attached. While this is being + done, ladies and gentlemen, I wish that three of you would step up on the + stage. Any three—don't be bashful girls—I won't hurt you. + Won't that couple over there kindly oblige me—that married couple—no, + folks, I guess they aren't married either—they look too happy." + </p> + <p> + Very painful it was to Colombo to hear these horrible jokes coming from + his mouth, but Thyrston had quoted the authority of all successful + sorcerers and not for anything would Colombo have had his trick a failure. + </p> + <p> + "Now ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I am going to ask this lady and + these two gentlemen if they will be so good as to see if they can take + this little egg and make it stand on end without any support." + </p> + <p> + And very droll it was to see the unsuccessful attempts which the three + made. Finally Colombo said: + </p> + <p> + "Now ladies and gentlemen, I want you to watch me closely. I put the silk + hat on my head—thus. And I take the egg in my right hand—thus. + Now, if this young lady will be kind enough to hold my left hand—I + hope that her best fellow doesn't mind letting such a pretty girl hold my + hand—it's lucky my wife can't see me, though—a friend said to + me the other day, 'Who was that lady I seen you with?' and I said, 'That + wasn't no lady, that was my wife'. Now ladies and gentlemen I take this + egg, and in order to make it stand upright I tap one end gently—thus + against the table until that end is flattened—and then, presto—the + egg stands upright. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you one and all for your + kind attention." + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Colombo impressed King Ferdinand and his court with his + profound knowledge of geography. Next the tale tells how there came to + Colombo on Michaelmas Eve one sent by Queen Isabel, And when Colombo had + buckled on his sword Impavide he followed the messenger through winding + corridors and came at last to the chamber of the Queen. And as he knelt + before her it seemed to Colombo that never before had he seen such + unforgettable beauty as shone in the eyes of Queen Isabel. Yes, truly, + this was the loveliest girl that Colombo had ever imagined. + </p> + <p> + "Now do you rise", said she, "and you and I shall have a nice chat alone + here together, and you can tell me all about geography of which I am oh, + frightfully ignorant. In truth", said she, "I have tried to get Ferdinand + to instruct me, but I fear", said Queen Isabel, "that Ferdinand does not + understand me." + </p> + <p> + So Colombo instructed Queen Isabel in the fundamentals of geography. And + after a while he spoke. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="052 (66K)" src="images/052.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Now many people", said Colombo, "believe that the earth is flat, but", + said Colombo, "such is not at all the case." + </p> + <p> + And after an interval Colombo said, "There, my dear, do you not see how + ridiculous it is to suppose that the earth is anything but round?" + </p> + <p> + "Why surely, sire", said Queen Isabel, "you make it appear very round. And + I wonder that I had not thought of that before. And I think", said Queen + Isabel, "that geography is a most fascinating subject and oh, messire + Colombo", said the Queen, "you must come and instruct me often." + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Colombo became Royal Geographer. And the tale tells how + after a while various whisperings came to King Ferdinand of his queen's + curious enthusiasm for study. + </p> + <p> + "Now about this geography", said King Ferdinand one evening to the Queen, + "I am, my dear, indeed glad to see you take an interest in such an + important study and I have arranged", said the King, "to have your + tutoring in the future done by Father Bernadino who has had fifty-two + years' experience at the University, and your lessons", said the King, + "will commence tomorrow." + </p> + <p> + Said the Queen, "How can I thank you enough, dear Ferdinand, for your + untiring interest in my welfare. For I have been struggling along in my + study of geography with a horribly dull clod whose name", said the Queen, + "I cannot remember." + </p> + <p> + "Was it, by any chance, Colombo?" asked the King. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps", said the Queen. "But I am oh so glad to be rid of him." And + indeed so great was the happiness of Queen Isabel that her pillow that + night was wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + But King Ferdinand was an unusually efficient king, and he spared no pains + in his craving for normalcy. So it was that the next day he called to him + the man who had chanced to be Royal Geographer before the coup d'oeuf of + Colombo. + </p> + <p> + "Now tell me", said the King, "is there any chance that a man who sails to + the westward will ever return?" + </p> + <p> + "None, your Majesty", said the ex-Royal Geographer. "For many have tried + and horrible are the tales which they tell of demons and monsters lying in + wait for the ships of men. And I should say definitely, oh King", said he, + "that whoever sails to the westward will never return." + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells how that afternoon Colombo stood before King Ferdinand. + And very strange to Colombo was the enthusiasm which burned in the King's + otherwise somewhat fishlike eye. + </p> + <p> + "For know you, Colombo", the King was saying, "that God has spoken to me + and commanded me to save from the fires of hell the inhabitants of those + golden lands of which you sang. And to you, my dear Colombo, is to be + given the chance which you so ardently desire. For I have this day + purchased three ships which await your command, and within a week you + should be well on your way on this glorious mission for God and for Spain, + and", said the King, "I might add that the Queen, too, is much interested + in this voyage and has even been persuaded to dispose of her jewels in + order that you may make haste." + </p> + <p> + "Such instant obedience to the will of God", said Colombo, "and such fine + enthusiasm to further His kingdom on earth, does your Majesties great + credit. And I shall indeed congratulate the inhabitants of this + to-be-discovered land for their good fortune in obtaining such a devout + King." + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells how that night Colombo took leave of Queen Isabel. "Now + do not weep, oh Queen", said he, "for I am only Colombo whom men call the + Dreamer, and I go in search of the land of my imagining, and perhaps", + said Colombo, "I shall return." But they tell how Queen Isabel refused to + be comforted for many and many a day. And unexplainably curious to Father + Bernadino was his absolute and complete failure as a royal instructor in + geography, for Father Bernadino had taught for fifty-two years at the + University. + </p> + <p> + And so it was that Colombo sat alone in the cabin of the ship which + carried him towards the land of his imagining. And strange and somewhat + fearsome it was to the sailors to see their captain sitting thus + motionless night after night, for already had they left the Canaries far + behind and some there were who said that a madman commanded their ship, + and others who whispered of horrible monsters in these western seas. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="056 (46K)" src="images/056.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells how one night Colombo observed across his table one who + had not been sitting there a moment before and whose hair was strangely + red. + </p> + <p> + "Well now, truly, sir", said Colombo, "This is very curious. For I do not + remember seeing you among the crew nor were you ever at the court, and on + the whole", said Colombo, "your red hair and your sneering grin interrupt + my dreams, and dreams", said Colombo, "are all that I have left." + </p> + <p> + "For know you, sir", continued he to the stranger who did not speak, "that + on this earth man has been able to endure only by playing the ape to his + dreams. And in every generation", said Colombo, "there have been those who + dreamed of beautiful things and in every age there have been those who + caught some glimpse of that perfect beauty which the Greeks call Helen, + and to have seen Helen", said Colombo, "is to have been touched with + divine and unbearable madness." + </p> + <p> + And it became strangely quiet in the cabin as Colombo continued: + </p> + <p> + "And those authors who wrote perfectly of beautiful dreams", said he, + "will, perchance, endure, and those who saw only men as they are, will + perish—for so has it been in the past and so will it be in the + future. All of which", said Colombo, "is a rather tiresome and pedantic + excuse for the fact that I am about to read you my own poem." + </p> + <p> + And Colombo read to the stranger the dream of the land of Colombo's + imagining, and when he had finished the stranger smiled and shook his head + sadly. + </p> + <p> + "Come, now," said Colombo, somewhat hurt. "Do not, I pray you, pretend to + like it unless you really do. Of course it is not at all the kind of thing + that will sell, is it—and the metre must be patched up in places, + don't you think? And some of the most beautiful passages would never be + permitted by the censor—but still—" and Colombo paused + hopefully, for it was Colombo's poem and into it he had poured the heart + of his life and it seemed to him now, more than ever, a beautiful thing. + </p> + <p> + The stranger handed Colombo a book. + </p> + <p> + "There", said he, "is the land of your imagining", and in his eyes gleamed + a curious sardonic mockery. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="062 (108K)" src="images/062.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + And Colombo read the book. And when he had finished his face was grey as + are old ashes in ancient urns, and about the mouth of him whom men called + the Dreamer were curious hard lines. + </p> + <p> + "Now, by Heaven", said Colombo brandishing his sword Impavide, "you lie. + And your Gopher Prairie is a lie. And you are all, all contemptible, you + who dip your pens in tracing ink and seek to banish beautiful dreams from + the world." + </p> + <p> + But the red-haired stranger had vanished and Colombo found that he was + alone and to Colombo the world seemed cheerless and as a place that none + has lived in for a long time. + </p> + <p> + "Now this is curious", mused Colombo, "for I have evidently been dreaming + and a more horrible dream have I never had, and I think", said Colombo, + "that while all this quite certainly did not actually take place, yet that + grinning red head has upset me horribly and on the whole", said Colombo, + "I believe the safest course would be to put back at once for Spain, for + certainly I have no desire to take the remotest chance of discovering + anything which may in the least resemble that Gopher Prairie." + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells that as Colombo started for the deck in order that he + might give the signal for the return to Spain, there came across the water + from one of the other ships the faint cry of a sailor. And the sailor was + waving his hat and shouting, "Land Ho!" + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Cristofer Colombo became the discoverer of the land of + his imagining, and as he stood on the deck Colombo mused. + </p> + <p> + "Now this is a sorrowful jest and a very unfair jest that is happening," + said he. "For I who have dreamed a beautiful dream of the land of my + imagining will quite probably henceforth be known only as the discoverer + of what will turn out to be merely one more hideous and stupid country." + And tears came to the eyes of Colombo, for on the waves behind him floated + the torn and scattered pages of the poem which sang the imagined vision of + Beauty of him whom men long and long ago called the Dreamer. + </p> + <p> + Thus it was in the old days. + </p> + <p> + ANALYSIS AND SUMMARY OF THE FOREGOING ARTICLE In the Manner of Dr. Frank + Crane + </p> + <p> + There is a lesson for us all in this beautiful story of how Columbus + realized his ambition to be a great discoverer. + </p> + <p> + Men called Columbus a Dreamer—but that is just what folks once said + about Thomas A. Edison and Henry Ford. + </p> + <p> + The world has a place for Dreamers—if they are Practical Dreamers. + </p> + <p> + Columbus was ambitious. Ambition is a great thing if it is unselfish + ambition. By unselfish I mean for the greatest good of the greatest + number. Shakespeare, the great teacher, shows us in "Macbeth" what happens + to the selfishly ambitious man. + </p> + <p> + Columbus got ahead by paying attention to small details. Whatever he did, + he did to the best of his ability. Even when engaged in teaching geography + to the Queen, Columbus was the best geography teacher he knew how to be. + And before long he was made Royal Geographer. + </p> + <p> + In our daily lives let us all resolve to be good teachers of geography. We + may not all become Royal Geographers—but there will be to us the + lasting satisfaction of having done our best. And that, as a greater than + I has said, is "more precious than rubies—yea, than much fine gold". + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter Three + </h2> + <h3> + MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass. + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis + </p> + <p> + I 1620. + </p> + <p> + Late autumn. + </p> + <p> + The sour liver-colored shores of America. + </p> + <p> + Breaking waves dashing too high on a stern and rockbound coast. + </p> + <p> + Woods tossing giant branches planlessly against a stormy sky. + </p> + <p> + Cape Cod Bay—wet and full of codfish. The codfish—wet and full + of bones. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="070 (63K)" src="images/070.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Standing on the deck of the anchored "Mayflower", gazing reflectively at + the shores of the new world, is Priscilla Kennicott. + </p> + <p> + A youthful bride on a ship full of pilgrims; a lily floating in a dish of + prunes; a cloissone vase in a cargo of oil cans. + </p> + <p> + Her husband joins her. Together they go forward to where their fellow + pilgrims are preparing to embark in small boats. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla jumps into the bow of the first of these to shove off. + </p> + <p> + As the small craft bumps the shore, Priscilla rises joyously. She + stretches her hands in ecstasy toward the new world. She leans forward + against the breeze, her whole figure alive with the joy of expectant + youth. + </p> + <p> + She leaps with an irrepressible "Yippee" from the boat to the shore. + </p> + <p> + She remains for an instant, a vibrant pagan, drunk with the joy of life; + Pan poised for an unforgettable moment on Plymouth Rock. + </p> + <p> + The next minute her foot slips on the hard, wet, unyielding stone. She + clutches desperately. She slides slowly back into the cold chill saltness + of Cape Cod Bay. + </p> + <p> + She is pulled, dripping and ashamed, into the boat. She crouches there, + shivering and hopeless. She hears someone whisper, "Pride goeth before + destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." + </p> + <p> + A coarse mirthless chuckle. + </p> + <p> + The pilgrims disembark. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + Plymouth. + </p> + <p> + A year later. + </p> + <p> + Night. + </p> + <p> + She lay sleepless on her bed. + </p> + <p> + She heard the outside door open; Kennicott returning from prayer meeting. + </p> + <p> + He sat down on the bed and began pulling off his boots. She knew that the + left boot would stick. She knew exactly what he would say and how long it + would take him to get it off. She rolled over in bed, a tactical movement + which left no blanket for her husband. + </p> + <p> + "You weren't at prayer meeting," he said. + </p> + <p> + "I had a headache," she lied. He expressed no sympathy. + </p> + <p> + "Miles Standish was telling me what you did today at the meeting of the + Jolly Seventeen." He had got the boot off at last; he lay down beside her + and pulled all the blankets off her onto himself. + </p> + <p> + "That was kind of Miles." She jerked at the covers but he held them tight. + "What charming story did he tell this time?" + </p> + <p> + "Now look here, Prissie—Miles Standish isn't given to fabrication. + He said you told the Jolly Seventeen that next Thanksgiving they ought to + give a dance instead of an all-day prayer service." + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="074 (99K)" src="images/074.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Well—anything else?" She gave a tremendous tug at the bedclothes + and Kennicott was uncovered again. + </p> + <p> + "He said you suggested that they arrange a series of lectures on modern + religions, and invite Quakers and other radicals to speak right here in + Plymouth and tell us all about their beliefs. And not only that but he + said you suggested sending a message to the Roman Catholic exiles from + England, inviting them to make their home with us. You must have made + quite a little speech." + </p> + <p> + "Well this is the land of religious freedom, isn't it? That's what you + came here for, didn't you?" She sat up to deliver this remark—a + movement which enabled Kennicott to win back seven-eighths of the bed + covering. + </p> + <p> + "Now look here Prissie—I'm not narrow like some of these pilgrims + who came over with us. But I won't have my wife intimating that a Roman + Catholic or a Quaker should be allowed to spread his heresies broadcast in + this country. It's all right for you and me to know something about those + things, but we must protect our children and those who have not had our + advantages. The only way to meet this evil is to stamp it out, quick, + before it can get a start. And it's just such so-called broadminded + thinkers as you that encourage these heretics. You'll be criticizing the + Bible next, I suppose." + </p> + <p> + Thus in early times did the pious Right Thinkers save the land from + Hellfire and Damnation; thus the great-grandfathers of middle-western + congressmen; thus the ancestors of platitudinous editorial writers, + Sitters on Committees, and tin-horn prohibitionists. + </p> + <p> + Kennicott got up to cool his wrath and indignation with a drink of water. + He stumbled over a chair, reached for the jug, took a drink, set the jug + down, stumbled over the same chair, and crawled back into bed. His + expedition cost him the loss of all bed covering; he gave up the fight. + </p> + <p> + "Aside from dragging my own private views over the coals of your + righteousness, did you and your friends find anything equally pleasant and + self-satisfying to discuss this evening?" + </p> + <p> + "Eh—what's that? Why, yes, we did. We decided to refuse permission + for one of these traveling medicine shows to operate in Plymouth." + </p> + <p> + "Medicine shows?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes—you know—like a fair in England. This one claims to come + from down south somewhere. 'Smart Set Medicine Show' it's called, run by a + fellow named Mencken. Sells cheap whisky to the Indians—makes them + crazy, they say. He's another one of your radical friends we don't want + around." + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="080 (100K)" src="images/080.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Yes, he might cut in on your own trading with the Indians." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, for heaven's sake, Prissie—hire a hall." + </p> + <p> + Silence. He began to snore. + </p> + <p> + She lay there, sleepless and open-eyed. The clock struck eleven. + </p> + <p> + "Why can't I get to sleep?" + </p> + <p> + ("Did Will put the cat out?") + </p> + <p> + "I wonder what this medicine show is like?" + </p> + <p> + "What is the matter with these people?" + </p> + <p> + ("Or is it me?") + </p> + <p> + She reached down, pulled the blankets from under her, spread them + carefully over the sleeping Kennicott, patting them down affectionately. + </p> + <p> + The next day she learned what the medicine show was like. She also learned + what was the matter with the pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + Morning. + </p> + <p> + A fog horn. + </p> + <p> + A fog horn blowing unceasingly. + </p> + <p> + At breakfast Kennicott pointed with his fork in the direction of the + persistent sound. + </p> + <p> + "There's your Smart Set medicine show," he said glumly. "He doesn't seem + to care much whether we give him a permit or not." Then, a minute later, + "We'll have to let him stay. Won't do to have the Indians down on us. But + I tell you this, Priscilla, I don't want you to go." + </p> + <p> + "But Will—" + </p> + <p> + "Prissie, please! I'm sorry I said what I did last night. I was tired. But + don't you see, well, I can't just exactly explain—but this fog horn + sort of scares me—I don't like it—" + </p> + <p> + He suddenly rose and put both hands on her shoulders. He looked into her + eyes. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He picked up his hat + and was gone. It was five minutes before Priscilla noticed that his + breakfast had been left untouched. + </p> + <p> + A fog horn, sounding unceasingly. + </p> + <p> + She listlessly put away the breakfast dishes. She tried to drown out the + sound by singing hymns. She fell on her knees and tried to pray. She found + her prayers keeping time to the rise and fall of the notes of that horn. + She determined to go out in the air—to find her husband—to go + to church, anywhere—as far as possible from the Smart Set medicine + show. + </p> + <p> + So she went out the back door and ran as fast as she could toward the + place from which came the sound of the fog horn. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + An open space on the edge of the forest. + </p> + <p> + In the centre of the clearing a small gaudily-painted tent. + </p> + <p> + Seated on the ground in a semicircle before the tent, some forty or fifty + Indians. + </p> + <p> + Standing on a box before the entrance to the tent, a man of twenty-five or + fifty. + </p> + <p> + In his left hand he holds a fog horn; in his right, a stein of beer. + </p> + <p> + He puts the horn to his lips and blows heavy blast. + </p> + <p> + He bellows, "Beauty—Beauty—Beauty!" + </p> + <p> + He takes a drink of beer. + </p> + <p> + He repeats this performance nine times. + </p> + <p> + He takes up some mud and deftly models the features of several well-known + characters—statesmen, writers, critics. In many cases the + resemblance is so slight that Priscilla can hardly recognize the + character. + </p> + <p> + He picks up a heavy club and proceeds to beat each one of his modeled + figures into a pulp. + </p> + <p> + The Indians applaud wildly. + </p> + <p> + He pays no attention to this applause. + </p> + <p> + He clears his throat and begins to speak. Priscilla is so deafened by the + roar of his voice that she cannot hear what he says. Apparently he is + introducing somebody; somebody named George. + </p> + <p> + George steps out of the tent, but does not bow to the audience. In one + hand he carries a fencing foil, well constructed, of European workmanship; + in his other hand he holds a number of pretty toy balloons which he has + made himself. + </p> + <p> + He smiles sarcastically, tosses the balloons into the air, and cleverly + punctures them one by one with his rapier. + </p> + <p> + At each "pop" the announcer blows a loud blast on the fog horn. + </p> + <p> + When the last balloon has been punctured George retires without + acknowledging the applause of the Indians. + </p> + <p> + The next act is announced as Helen of Troy in "Six Minutes of Beauty". + Priscilla learns from the announcer that "this little lady is out of + 'Irony' by Theodore Dreiser". + </p> + <p> + "All ready, Helen—" + </p> + <p> + The "little lady" appears. + </p> + <p> + She is somewhat over six feet six in height and built like a boilermaker. + She is dressed in pink tights. + </p> + <p> + "Six Minutes of Beauty" begins when Helen picks up three large iron cannon + balls and juggles them. She tosses them in the air and catches them + cleverly on the back of her neck. + </p> + <p> + The six minutes are brought to a successful conclusion when Helen, hanging + head downward by one foot from a trapeze, balances lighted lamp on the + other foot and plays Beethoven's Fifth Symphony on the slide trombone. + </p> + <p> + The announcer then begins his lecture. Priscilla has by this time gotten + used to the overpowering roar of his voice and she discovers that once + this difficulty is overcome she is tremendously impressed by his words. + </p> + <p> + She becomes more and more attracted to the man. She listens, fascinated, + as his lecture draws to a close and he offers his medicine for sale. She + presses forward through the crowd of Indians surrounding the stand. She + reaches the tent. She gives her coin and receives in return a bottle. She + hides it in her cape and hurries home. + </p> + <p> + She slips in the back way; she pours some of the medicine into a glass; + she drinks it. + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + A terrible overwhelming nausea. Vomiting, which lasts for agonizing + minutes, leaving her helpless on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Then cessation. + </p> + <p> + Then light—blinding light. + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + At 3:10 Priscilla drank the Mencken medicine; at 3:12 she was lying in + agony on the floor; at 3:20 she opened her eyes; at 3:21 she walked out of + her front door; and at 3:22 she discovered what was wrong with Plymouth + and the pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + Main Street. Straight and narrow. A Puritan thoroughfare in a Puritan + town. + </p> + <p> + The church. A centre of Puritan worship. The shrine of a narrow theology + which persistently repressed beauty and joy and life. + </p> + <p> + The Miles Standish house. The house of a Puritan. A squat, unlovely symbol + of repression. Beauty crushed by Morality. + </p> + <p> + Plymouth Rock. Hard, unyielding—like the Puritan moral code. A huge + tombstone on the grave of Pan. + </p> + <p> + She fled home. She flung herself, sobbing, on the bed. She cried, "They're + all Puritans that's what they are, Puritans!" + </p> + <p> + After a while she slept, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating + unnaturally. + </p> + <p> + VII + </p> + <p> + Late that night. + </p> + <p> + She opened her eyes; she heard men's voices; she felt her heart still + pounding within her at an alarming rate. + </p> + <p> + "And I told them then that it would come to no good end. Truly, the Lord + does not countenance such joking." + </p> + <p> + She recognized the voices of Miles Standish and Elder Brewster. + </p> + <p> + "Well—what happened then?" This from Kennicott. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you see, Henry Haydock got some of this Mencken's medicine from one + of the Indians. And he thought it would be a good joke to put it in the + broth at the church supper this evening." + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" + </p> + <p> + "Well—he did it, the fool. And when the broth was served, hell on + earth broke loose. Everyone started calling his neighbor a Puritan, and + cursing him for having banished Beauty from the earth. The Lord knows what + they meant by that; I don't. Old friends fought like wildcats, shrieking + 'Puritan' at each other. Luckily it only got to one table—but there + are ten raving lunatics in the lockup tonight. + </p> + <p> + "It's an awful thing. But thanks to the Lord, some good has come out of + this evil: that medicine man, Mencken, was standing outside looking in at + the rumpus, smiling to himself I guess. Well, somebody saw him and yelled, + 'There's another of those damned Puritans!' and before he could get away + five of them had jumped on him and beaten him to death. He deserved it, + and it's a good joke on him that they killed him for being a Puritan." + </p> + <p> + Priscilla could stand no more. She rose from her bed, rushed into the + room, and faced the three Puritans. In the voice of Priscilla Kennicott + but with the words of the medicine man she scourged them. + </p> + <p> + "A good joke?" she began. "And that is what you Puritan gentlemen of God + and volcanoes of Correct Thought snuffle over as a good joke? Well, with + the highest respect to Professor Doctor Miles Standish, the Puritan + Hearse-hound, and Professor Doctor Elder Brewster, the Plymouth Dr. Frank + Crane—BLAA!" + </p> + <p> + She shrieked this last in their faces and fell lifeless at their feet. + </p> + <p> + She never recovered consciousness; an hour later she died. An overdose of + the medicine had been too much for her weak heart. + </p> + <p> + "Poor William," comforted Elder Brewster, "you must be brave. You will + miss her sorely. But console yourself with the thought that it was for the + best. Priscilla has gone where she will always be happy. She has at last + found that bliss which she searched for in vain on earth." + </p> + <p> + "Yes William," added Miles Standish. "Priscilla has now found eternal + joy." + </p> + <p> + VIII + </p> + <p> + Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Smug saints with ill-fitting halos and imitation wings, singing + meaningless hymns which Priscilla had heard countless times before. + </p> + <p> + Sleek prosaic angels flying aimlessly around playing stale songs on sickly + yellow harps. + </p> + <p> + Three of the harps badly out of tune; two strings missing on another. + </p> + <p> + Moses, a Jew. + </p> + <p> + Methuselah, another Jew. Old and unshaven. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla threw herself on a cloud, sobbing. + </p> + <p> + "Well, sister, what seems to be the matter here?" + </p> + <p> + She looked up; she saw a sympathetic stranger looking down at her. + </p> + <p> + "Because you know, sister," he went on, "if you don't like it here you can + always go back any time you want to." + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean to say," gasped Priscilla, "that I can return to earth?" + </p> + <p> + "You certainly can," said the stranger. "I'm sort of manager here, and + whenever you see any particular part of the earth you'd like to live in, + you just let me know and I'll arrange it." + </p> + <p> + He smiled and was gone. + </p> + <p> + IX + </p> + <p> + It was two hundred years before Priscilla Kennicott definitely decided + that she could stand it no longer in heaven; it was another hundred years + before she located a desirable place on earth to return to. + </p> + <p> + She finally selected a small town in the American northwest, far from the + Puritan-tainted Plymouth; a small town in the midst of fields of beautiful + waving grain; a small town free from the artificiality of large cities; a + small town named Gopher Prairie. + </p> + <p> + She made known her desire to the manager; she said goodby to a small group + of friends who had gathered to see her off; she heard the sound of the + eternal harp playing and hymn singing grow gradually fainter and fainter; + she closed her eyes. + </p> + <p> + When she opened them again she found herself on Main Street in Gopher + Prairie. + </p> + <p> + X + </p> + <p> + From the "Heavenly Harp and Trumpet": + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Priscilla Kennicott, one of our most popular angels, left these parts + last Tuesday for an extended visit to the Earth. Mrs. K. confided to Ye + Editor that she would probably take up her residence in Gopher Prairie, + Minn., under the name of Carol Kennicott. The "Harp and Trumpet" + felicitates the citizens of Gopher Prairie on their acquisition of a + charming and up-to-date young matron whose absence will be keenly + regretted by her many friends in the heavenly younger married set. Good + luck, Priscilla! + </p> + <p> + XI + </p> + <p> + Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Five years later. + </p> + <p> + The monthly meeting of the Celestial Browning Club. + </p> + <p> + Seated in the chair reserved for the guest of honor, the manager. + </p> + <p> + The meeting opens as usual with a reading by Brother Robert Browning of + his poem "Pippa Passes"; as he proclaims that "God's in his heaven, all's + right with the world", the members applaud and the manager rises and bows. + </p> + <p> + The chairman announces that "today we take up a subject in which I am sure + we are all extremely interested—the popular literature of the United + States". + </p> + <p> + The members listen to selected extracts from the writings of Gene + Stratton-Porter, Zane Grey, and Harold Bell Wright; at the conclusion they + applaud and the manager again bows. + </p> + <p> + "I am sure", says the chairman, "that we are all glad to hear that things + are going so nicely in the United States." (Applause.) "And now, in + conclusion, Brother Voltaire has requested permission to address us for a + few minutes, and I am sure that anything Brother Voltaire has to say will + be eminently worthwhile." + </p> + <p> + Brother Voltaire rises and announces that he has listened with interest to + the discussion of American literature; that he, too, rejoices that all is + well in this best of all possible United States; and that he hopes they + will pardon him if he supplements the program by reading a few extracts + from another extremely popular American book recently published under the + name of "Main Street". + </p> + <p> + XII + </p> + <p> + At the next meeting of the Celestial Browning Club it was unanimously + voted that the privileges of the club be denied Brother Voltaire for the + period of one year, and that the name of Priscilla Kennicott be stricken + from the list of non-resident members of heaven. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <h3> + THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald + </p> + <p> + This story occurs under the blue skies and bluer laws of Puritan New + England, in the days when religion was still taken seriously by a great + many people, and in the town of Plymouth where the "Mayflower", having + ploughed its platitudinous way from Holland, had landed its precious cargo + of pious Right Thinkers, moral Gentlemen of God, and—Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla was—well, Priscilla had yellow hair. In a later + generation, in a 1921 June, if she had toddled by at a country club dance + you would have noticed first of all that glorious mass of bobbed + corn-colored locks. You would, then, perhaps, have glanced idly at her + face, and suddenly said "Oh my gosh!" The next moment you would have + clutched the nearest stag and hissed, "Quick—yellow hair—silver + dress—oh Judas!" You would then have been introduced, and after + dancing nine feet you would have been cut in on by another panting stag. + In those nine delirious feet you would have become completely dazed by one + of the smoothest lines since the building of the Southern Pacific. You + would then have borrowed somebody's flask, gone into the locker room and + gotten an edge—not a bachelor-dinner edge but just enough to give + you the proper amount of confidence. You would have returned to the + ballroom, cut in on this twentieth century Priscilla, and taken her and + your edge out to a convenient limousine, or the first tee. + </p> + <p> + It was of some such yellow-haired Priscilla that Homer dreamed when he + smote his lyre and chanted, "I sing of arms and the man"; it was at the + sight of such as she that rare Ben Johnson's Dr. Faustus cried, "Was this + the face that launched a thousand ships?" In all ages has such beauty + enchanted the minds of men, calling forth in one century the Fiesolian + terza rima of "Paradise Lost", in another the passionate arias of a dozen + Beethoven symphonies. In 1620 the pagan daughter of Helen of Troy and + Cleopatra of the Nile happened, by a characteristic jest of the great + Ironist, to embark with her aunt on the "Mayflower". + </p> + <p> + Like all girls of eighteen Priscilla had learned to kiss and be kissed on + every possible occasion; in the exotic and not at all uncommon pleasure of + "petting" she had acquired infinite wisdom and complete disillusionment. + But in all her "petting parties" on the "Mayflower" and in Plymouth she + had found no Puritan who held her interest beyond the first kiss, and she + had lately reverted in sheer boredom to her boarding school habit of + drinking gin in large quantities, a habit which was not entirely approved + of by her old-fashioned aunt, although Mrs. Brewster was glad to have her + niece stay at home in the evenings "instead", as she told Mrs. Bradford, + "of running around with those boys, and really, my dear, Priscilla says + some of the FUNNIEST things when she gets a little er—'boiled', as + she calls it—you must come over some evening, and bring the + governor." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster, Priscilla's aunt, is the ancestor of all New England aunts. + She may be seen today walking down Tremont Street, Boston, in her Educator + shoes on her way to S. S. Pierce's which she pronounces to rhyme with + HEARSE. The twentieth century Mrs. Brewster wears a highnecked black silk + waist with a chatelaine watch pinned over her left breast and a spot of + Gordon's codfish (no bones) over her right. When a little girl she was + taken to see Longfellow, Lowell, and Ralph Waldo Emerson; she speaks + familiarly of the James boys, but this has no reference to the well-known + Missouri outlaws. She was brought up on blueberry cake, Postum and "The + Atlantic Monthly"; she loves the Boston "Transcript", God, and her + relatives in Newton Centre. Her idea of a daring joke is the remark Susan + Hale made to Edward Everett Hale about sending underwear to the heathen. + She once asked Donald Ogden Stewart to dinner with her niece; she didn't + think his story about the lady mind reader who read the man's mind and + then slapped his face, was very funny; she never asked him again. + </p> + <p> + The action of this story all takes place in MRS. BREWSTER'S Plymouth home + on two successive June evenings. As the figurative curtain rises MRS. + BREWSTER is sitting at a desk reading the latest instalment of Foxe's + "Book of Martyrs". + </p> + <p> + The sound of a clanking sword is heard outside. MRS. BREWSTER looks up, + smiles to herself, and goes on reading. A knock—a timid knock. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Come in. + </p> + <p> + (Enter CAPTAIN MIKES STANDISH, whiskered and forty. In a later generation, + with that imposing mustache and his hatred of Indians, Miles would + undoubtedly have been a bank president. At present he seems somewhat ill + at ease, and obviously relieved to find only PRISCILLA'S aunt at home.) + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Good evening, Captain Standish. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Good evening, Mrs. Brewster. It's—it's cool for June, isn't + it? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Yes. I suppose we'll pay, for it with a hot July, though. + </p> + <p> + MILES (nervously): Yes, but it—it is cool for June, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: So you said, Captain. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Yes. So I said, didn't I? (Silence.) + </p> + <p> + MILES: Mistress Priscilla isn't home, then? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Why, I don't think so, Captain But I never can be sure + where Priscilla is. + </p> + <p> + MILES (eagerly): She's a—a fine girl, isn't she? A fine girl. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Why, yes. Of course, Priscilla has her faults but she'd + make some man a fine wife—some man who knew how to handle her—an + older man, with experience. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Do you really think so, Mrs. Brewster? (After a minute.) Do you + think Priscilla is thinking about marrying anybody in particular? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Well, I can't say, Captain. You know—she's a little + wild. Her mother was wild, too, you know—that is, before the Lord + spoke to her. They say she used to be seen at the Mermaid Tavern in London + with all those play-acting people. She always used to say that Priscilla + would marry a military man. + </p> + <p> + MILES: A military man? Well, now tell me Mrs. Brewster, do you think that + a sweet delicate creature like Priscilla— + </p> + <p> + A VOICE (in the next room): Oh DAMN! + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: That must be Priscilla now. + </p> + <p> + THE VOICE: Auntie! + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Yes, Priscilla dear. + </p> + <p> + THE VOICE: Where in hell did you put the vermouth? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: In the cupboard, dear. I do hope you aren't going to get—er—"boiled" + again tonight, Priscilla. (Enter PRISCILLA, infinitely radiant, infinitely + beautiful, with a bottle of vermouth in one hand and a jug of gin in the + other.) PRISCILLA: Auntie, that was a dirty trick to hide the vermouth. + Hello Miles—shoot many Indians today? + </p> + <p> + MILES: Why—er er—no, Mistress Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Wish you'd take me with you next time, Miles. I'd love to shoot + an Indian, wouldn't you, auntie? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! What an idea! And please dear, give Auntie + Brewster the gin. I—er—promised to take some to the church + social tonight and it's almost all gone now. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="015 (107K)" src="images/015.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MILES: I didn't see you at church last night, Mistress Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Well I'll tell you, Miles. I started to go to church—really + felt awfully religious. But just as I was leaving I thought, "Priscilla, + how about a drink—just one little drink?" You know, Miles, church + goes so much better when you're just a little boiled—the lights and + everything just kind of—oh, its glorious. Well last night, after I'd + had a little liquor, the funniest thing happened. I felt awfully good, not + like church at all—so I just thought I'd take a walk in the woods. + And I came to a pool—a wonderful honest-to-God pool—with the + moon shining right into the middle of it. So I just undressed and dove in + and it was the most marvelous thing in the world. And then I danced on the + bank in the grass and the moonlight—oh, Lordy, Miles, you ought to + have seen me. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: 'Scuse me, Auntie Brewster. And then I just lay in the grass + and sang and laughed. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Dear, you'll catch your death of cold one of these nights. + I hope you'll excuse me, Captain Standish; it's time I was going to our + social. I'll leave Priscilla to entertain you. Now be a good girl, + Priscilla, and please dear don't drink straight vermouth—remember + what happened last time. Good night, Captain—good night, dear. + </p> + <p> + (Exit MRS. BREWSTER with gin.) + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Oh damn! What'll we do, Miles—I'm getting awfully sleepy. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Why—we might—er—pet a bit. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA (yawning): No. I'm too tired—besides, I hate whiskers. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Yes, that's so, I remember. (Ten minutes' silence, with MILES + looking sentimentally into the fireplace, PRISCILLA curled up in a chair + on the other side.) + </p> + <p> + MILES: I was—your aunt and I—we were talking about you before + you came in. It was a talk that meant a lot to me. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind closing that window? + </p> + <p> + (MILES closes the window and returns to his chair by the fireplace.) + </p> + <p> + MILES: And your aunt told me that your mother said you would some day + marry a military man. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind passing me that pillow over there? + </p> + <p> + (MILES gets up, takes the pillow to PRISCILLA and again sits down.) + </p> + <p> + MILES: And I thought that if you wanted a military man why—well, + I've always thought a great deal of you, Mistress Priscilla—and + since my Rose died I've been pretty lonely, and while I'm nothing but a + rough old soldier yet—well, what I'm driving at is—you see, + maybe you and I could sort of—well, I'm not much of a hand at fancy + love speeches and all that—but— + </p> + <p> + (He is interrupted by a snore. He glances up and sees that PRISCILLA has + fallen fast asleep. He sits looking hopelessly into the fireplace for a + long time, then gets up, puts on his hat and tiptoes out of the door.) + </p> + <p> + THE NEXT EVENING + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA is sitting alone, lost in revery, before the fireplace. It is + almost as if she had not moved since the evening before. + </p> + <p> + A knock, and the door opens to admit JOHN ALDEN, nonchalant, + disillusioned, and twenty-one. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Good evening. Hope I don't bother you. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: The only people who bother me are women who tell me I'm + beautiful and men who don't. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Not a very brilliant epigram—but still—yes, you ARE + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Of course, if it's an effort for you to say— + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Nothing is worthwhile without effort. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Sounds like Miles Standish; many things I do without effort are + worthwhile; I am beautiful without the slightest effort. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Yes, you're right. I could kiss you without any effort—and + that would be worthwhile—perhaps. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Kissing me would prove nothing. I kiss as casually as I + breathe. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: And if you didn't breathe—or kiss—you would die. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Any woman would. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Then you are like other women. How unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: I am like no woman you ever knew. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: You arouse my curiosity. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Curiosity killed a cat. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: A cat may look at a—Queen. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: And a Queen keeps cats for her amusement. They purr so + delightfully when she pets them. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: I never learned to purr; it must be amusing—for the Queen. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Let me teach you. I'm starting a new class tonight. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: I'm afraid I couldn't afford to pay the tuition. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: For a few exceptionally meritorious pupils, various + scholarships and fellowships have been provided. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: By whom? Old graduates? + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: NO—the institution has been endowed by God— + </p> + <p> + JOHN: With exceptional beauty—I'm afraid I'm going to kiss you. NOW. + </p> + <p> + (They kiss.) + </p> + <p> + (Ten minutes pass.) + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Stop smiling in that inane way. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: I just happened to think of something awfully funny. You know the + reason why I came over here tonight? + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: To see me. I wondered why you hadn't come months ago. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: No. It's really awfully funny—but I came here tonight because + Miles Standish made me promise this morning to ask you to marry him. Miles + is an awfully good egg, really Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="110 (79K)" src="images/110.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Speak for yourself, John. (They kiss.) + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Again. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Again—and again. Oh Lord, I'm gone. + </p> + <p> + (An hour later JOHN leaves. As the door closes behind him PRISCILLA sinks + back into her chair before the fireplace; an hour passes, and she does not + move; her aunt returns from the Bradfords' and after a few ineffectual + attempts at conversation goes to bed alone; the candles gutter, flicker, + and die out; the room is filled of sacred silence. Once more the clock + chimes forth the hour—the hour of fluted peace, of dead desire and + epic love. Oh not for aye, Endymion, mayst thou unfold the purple panoply + of priceless years. She sleeps—PRISCILLA sleeps—and down the + palimpsest of age-old passion the lyres of night breathe forth their + poignant praise. She sleeps—eternal Helen—in the moonlight of + a thousand years; immortal symbol of immortal aeons, flower of the gods + transplanted on a foreign shore, infinitely rare, infinitely erotic.) [1] + </p> + <p> + 1. For the further adventures of Priscilla, see F. Scott Fitzgerald's stories + in the "Girl With the Yellow Hair" series, notably "This Side of + Paradise," "The Offshore Pirate," "The Ice Palace," "Head and Shoulders," + "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," "Benediction" and "The Beautiful and Damned." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <h3> + THE SPIRIT OF '75 + </h3> + <p> + LETTERS OF A MINUTE MAN + </p> + <p> + In the Manner of Ring Lardner + </p> + <p> + Friend Ethen— + </p> + <p> + Well Ethen you will be surprised O. K. to hear I & the wife took a + little trip down to Boston last wk. to a T. party & I guess you are + thinking we will be getting the swelt hed over being ast to a T. party. In + Boston. + </p> + <p> + Well Ethen if you think that why you will be a 100 mi. offen the track + because Ethen I and Prudence sent the kind that gets a swelt hed over + being ast any wares like some of are naybers up here when they are ast any + wares so you see Ethen even if we had been ast any wares we wouldnt of had + no swelt hed. On acct of being ast any wares. + </p> + <p> + Well last Thurs. I and Prudence drove old Bessy down to Boston Bessy is + are horse see Ethen which is about 13 mi. from here Boston I mean Ethen as + the crow flys only no crow would ever fly to Boston if he could help it + because all the crows that ever flew to Boston was shot by them lousie + taverin keepers to make meals out of Ethen I never tast it nothing so + rotten in my life as the meals they give us there & the priceis would + knock your I out. 3 shillings for a peace of stake about as big as your I, + and 4 pence for a cup of coffy. The streets sent the only thing about + Boston thats crook it. Them taverin keepers is crook it to I mean see + Ethen. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="118 (109K)" src="images/118.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + After supper I & her was walking a round giving the town the double O + when we seen that Fanny Ewell Hall was all lit up like Charley Davis on + Sat. night & I says to Prudence lets go inside I think its free and + she says I bet you knowed it was free al right befor you ast me & sure + enough it was free only I hadnt knowed it before only I guess that + Prudence knows that when I say a thing it is generally O. K. Well Fanny + Ewell Hall was pack jam full of people & we couldnt see nothing + because there was a cockide stiff standing right in front of us & + jumping up & down & yelling No T. No T. at the top of his lunges + & Prudence says well why dont you take coffy or milk & for Gods + sake stay offen my foot & he turns to her & says maddam do you + want T. & slavery & she says no coffy & a hot dog just kidding + him see Ethen & he says maddam no T. shall ever land & she says no + but my husbend will in a bout 1 min. & I was just going to plank him 1 + when the door behint us bust open & a lot of indyans come in yelling + every body down to Grifins worf there is going to be a T. party only Ethen + they wasnt indyans at all but jest wite men drest up to look like indyans + & I says to a fello those aint indyans & he say no how did you + guess it & I says because I have seen real indyans many a time & + he says to a nother fello say Bill here is a man who says them sent real + indyans & the other fello says gosh I dont believe it & they + laffed only the laff was on them Ethen because they wasnt real indyans + & that is only tipical of how you cant tell these Boston swelt heds + nothing & I guess if they had ever seen a real indyan they would of + known better than to laff. Well I and Prudence follered the crowd down to + Grifins worf & them indyans which was only wite men drest up clumb + onto a ship there & begun throwing the cargo into Boston harber & + I says to a fello what is in them boxes & he says T. & I says well + why are they throwing it away & he says because they do not want to + pay the tacks which is about as sensable Ethen if I was to rite a lot of + letters & then as fast as I rote I would tare it up because I did not + want to pay for a stamp. Well I says somebody ought to catch he—ll + for this & he says are you a torie & I seen he was trying to kid + me & I says no I am a congregationalis & a loyal subject of king + Geo. Rex & he says o I thought you was a torie & a lot of fellos + who was with him give him the laff because he hadnt been abel to kid me. + Well after a whiles he says the indyans seem to be about threw & I + says yes only they sent indyans & the laff was on him again & he + seen it wasnt no use to try & kid me & Prudence says come on lets + beat it & on the way home I says I bet them Boston birds will feel + small when they find out that those wasnt indyans at all & she act it + like she was mad about something & says well they cant blame you for + not trying to tell them & its a wonder you didnt hire Fanny Ewell Hall + while you was about it & I says o is it & I might know youd get + sore because I was the 1st to find out about the indyans being wite men in + disgised & she says yes I suppose if somebody was to paint stripes on + a cow you would make a speech about it & say that you had discovered + that it wasnt no tiger & I wish I had been 1 of them indyans tonight + because I would of loved to of beened you with a Tommy Hawk & I says o + you would would you & she seen it wasnt no use to argue with me & + anyway Ethen nobody would be fool enough to paint stripes on a cow unless + maybe they was born in Boston. Well Ethen thats the way it goes & when + you do put one over on the wife they want to hit you with a Tommy Hawk + with best rgds. Ed. + </p> + <p> + Friend Ethen— + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="122 (121K)" src="images/122.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + No matter what a married man does in this world he gets in wrong & I + suppose if I was to die tonight Prudence would bawl me out for not having + let her know I was going to do it & just because I joined the minit + men the other eve. she has been acting like as if I had joined the Baptis + Church & I bet you are saying what in the h—ll is a minit man. + Well Ethen I will tell you. The other night I says to Prudence I think I + will drive over to Lexington to get Bessy shodd. Bessy is are horse see + Ethen. Well she says you will do nothing of the kind because all you want + to do in Lexington is get a snoot ful & if you think I am going to + wate up all night while you get boiled well you have got another guess + coming. She says the last time you had Bessy shodd the naybers are talking + about it yet & I says do you mean because I & Charley Davis was + singing & having a little fun & she says no because nobody wouldnt + call that singing & do you call it a little fun when you brought Bessy + up stares with you to show me how well she had been shodd at 3 A. M. in + the morning answer me that which is only her way of exagerating things + Ethen because we didnt bring Bessy only as far as the stares & I only + did it because Charley had been drinking a little to much & I didnt + want to iritate him because the way to handel drunks is to not iritate + them they are only worse only you cant tell a woman that & they think + the way to handel drunks is to look him in the eye & say arent you + ashamed of yourselves which only iritates him the moar. Well I says I am + not going to half no horse of mine going a round 1/2 shodd al the time + & Prudence says well I am not going to half no husband of mine going a + round 1/2 shot al the time & I says I will not go near Charley Davis + this time because I have lernt my lesson & she says al right if you + will promise to not go near Charley Davis you can go & when I got to + Lexington I thought I would stop in the taverin a min. just to say hulloh + to the boys because if a fello doesnt stop in the taverin to say hulloh to + the boys who are just as good as he is they are lible to say he has a + swelt hed & is to proud to stop in the taverin to say hulloh to the + boys. Who are just as good as he is. Well I didnt have any i dear that + Charley Davis would be there because I had told Prudence I wasnt going to + go near him & just because I said that I cant be expect it to sneek + into toun like as if I was a convick can I Ethen. Well the taverin was + crowd it & they had all got a good start & the long & the + short of it was that the 1st person I seen was Charley Davis & he says + hulloh there pink whiskers you are just in time to join the minit men + which is only a nicked name he has for me because my whiskers are red + brown. No I says I cannot join anything tonight fellos because I must go + right back home & he says if you dont join the minit men now some day + you wont have no home to go home to & I says what do you mean I wont + have no home to go home to & he says because the Brittish are going to + burn down all the homes of we farmers because we will not sell them any + food but first you had better have a drink. Well Ethen a fello dont like + to be a sissey about taking 1 drink does he & then I says now fellos I + must go home & then a couple of more fellos come in & they said Ed + you wont go home till we have brought you a drink & elect it you to + the minit men will you & I said no but I must go home right after + that. Well then we got to singing & we was going pretty good & + after a while I said now fellos I must go home & Charley Davis says to + me Ed before you go I want to have you shake hands with my friend Tom + Duffy who is here from Boston & he will tell you all about the minit + men & you can join tonight but look out or he will drink you under the + tabel because he is the worst fish in Boston & I says sure only I have + got to be going home soon because you remember what hapend last time & + I would like to see any body from Boston drink me under the tabel & + bet. you & I Ethen if that fellow is a fish then my grandmother is the + prince of whales & let me tell you what hapend. After we had drank + about 4 or 5 I seen he was getting sort of wite & I says well Boston + lets settle down now to some good steady drinking & he says listen + & I says what & he says listen & I says what & he says do + you know my wife & I says no & he says listen & I says what + & he says shes the best little woman in the world & I says sure + & he says what did you say & I says when & he says you have + insult it my wife the best little woman in the world & he begun to cry + & we had only had a bout 1 qt & wouldnt that knock you for a + cockide gool Ethen, only I guess you arent surprised knowing how much I + can holt without feeling any affects. Well I was feeling pretty good on + acct. of drinking the pride of Boston under the tabel & not feeling + any affects only I was feeling good like a fello naturely feels & the + fellos kind of made a lot of fuss on acct. me drinking him under the tabel + so I couldnt very well of gone home then & after a while Charley Davis + made a speech & well comed me into the minit men & so I am a minit + man Ethen but I cant exackly explain it to you until I see Charley again + because he didnt make it very clear that night. Well after a while we woke + the Boston fish up & we all went home & I was feeling pretty good + on acct. it being such a nice night & all the stars being out & + etc. & when I got home I said Prudence guess what hapend & she + says I can guess & I says Prudence I have been elect it a minit man + & she says well go on up stares & sleep it off & I says sleep + what off & she says stop talking so loud do you want the naybers to + wake up & I says whos talking loud & she says o go to bed & I + says I am talking in conversational tones & she says well you must be + conversing with somebody in Boston & I says o you mean that little + blond on Beecon St. & Ethen she went a 1,000,000 mi. up in the air + & I seen it wasnt no use to try & tell her that the reason I was + feeling good was on acct. having drank a Boston swelt hed to sleep without + feeling any affects & I bet the next time I get a chanct I am going to + get snooted right because a fello gets blamed just as much if he doesnt + feel the affects as if he was brought home in a stuper & I was just + kidding her about that blond on Beecon St. Some women dont know when they + are well off Ethen & I bet that guy from Bostons Tom Duffy I mean wife + wishes she was in Prudences shoes instead of her having married a man what + cant holt no more than a qt. without being brought home in a stuper. Best + rgds. Ed. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="128 (90K)" src="images/128.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Friend Ethen— + </p> + <p> + Well Ethen this is a funny world & when I joined the minit men last + mo. how was I to know that they called them minit men because they was + lible to get shot any minit. & here I am riteing to you in a tent + outside Boston & any minit a canon ball is lible to knock me for a + continental loop & my house has been burnt & Prudence is up in + Conk Cord with her sister the one who married that short skate dum bell + Collins who has owed me 2 lbs. for a yr. & 1/2 well Ethen it never + ranes but it pores & you can be glad you are liveing in a nice quiet + place like Philly. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="134 (68K)" src="images/134.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Well the other night I and Prudence was sound asleep when I heard some + body banging at the frt. door & I stuck my head out the up stares + window & I says who are you & he says I am Paul Revear & I + says well this is a h—ll of a time to be wakeing a peaceiful man out + of their bed what do you want & he says the Brittish are comeing & + I says o are they well this is the 19 of April not the 1st & I was + going down stares to plank him 1 but he had rode away tow wards Lexington + before I had a chanct & as it turned out after words the joke was on + me O. K. Well who is it says Prudence Charley Davis again because you + might as well come back to bed if it is & I says no it was some Boston + smart alick trying to be funny & I guess they are soar down there on + acct. what hapened to their prize fish up here last mo. & are trying + to get even do you know a Paul Revear & she says yes there was a boy + at school named Paul Revear who was crazy about me was he dark well Ethen + if all the fellos she says has been crazy about her was layed end to end + they would circum navygate the globe twicet & I says no he was yello + & that had her stopt so we went back to sleep only I couldn't help + laffing over the way I had slipt it across. About Revear being yello. Well + along a bout A. M. there was a lot of gun firing tow wards Lexington & + Prudence grabed me & says whets the shooting for & I says probably + that fello Revear who was so crazy a bout you has got funny oncet to oft + ten & it will teach them Boston doodes a lesson. Well Ethen I was + wrong for oncet & the firing kept getting worse & I hitcht up old + Bessy & drove over to Lexington Bessy is are horse & Ethen there + was the h—ll to pay there because the g—d d—m Brittish + redcotes had marcht nup from Boston & had fired on the Lexington + fellos & Charley Davis had been shot dead & a lot of the other + fellos was wooned it & they said you had better get your wife to the h—ll + out of your house because the g—d d—m Brittish redcotes are + coming back & they will burn everything along the rode the —— + I guess you know what word goes there Ethen & I was so d—m mad + at those g—d d—m Brittish redcotes on acct. shooting Charley + Davis dead that I said give me a gun & show me the —— who + done it & they says no you had better get your wife to a safe place to + go to & then you can come back because the —— will be + along this way again the ——. Well I drove as fast as I could + back to the farm & somebody had already told Prudence what had hapend + & as soon as I drove into the yd. she come out with my muskit & + hand it it to me & says dont you worry about me but you kill every d—m + redcote you can see & I says the ——s has killed Charley + Davis & she says I know it & here is all the bullits I could find. + Well when I got back to Lexington the redcotes was just coming along & + Ethen I guess they wont forget that march back to Boston for a little + whiles & I guess I wont either because the ——s burnt down + my house & barn & Prudence is gone to stay with her sister in Conk + Cord & here I am camping in a tent with a lot of other minit men on + the out skirts of Boston & there is a roomer a round camp that to + morrow we are going to move over to Bunker Hill which is a good name for a + Boston Hill Ill say & Ethen if you was to of told me a mo. ago that I + would be fighting to get Boston away from the Brittish I would of planked + you 1 because they could of had Boston for all I cared. Well Ethen I must + go out and drill some more now & probably we will half to listen to + some Boston bird makeing a speech they are great fellos for speeches about + down with Brittish tirrany & give me liberty or give me death but if + you was to ast me Ethen I would say give me back that house & barn + what those lousie redcotes burnt & when this excitement is all over + what I want to know is Ethen where do I get off at. Yrs Ed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter Six + </h2> + <h3> + THE WHISKY REBELLION. + </h3> + <p> + In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. Burgess + </p> + <p> + "Just the DAY for a Whisky Rebellion," said Aunt Polly and off she ran, + lipperty-lipperty-lip, to get a few shooting rifles. + </p> + <p> + "Oh goody goody," cried little Emily. "Now we can all shoot at those + horrid Revenue Officers," for the collectors of internal revenue were far + from popular with these kindly Pennsylvania folk and Aunt Polly Pinkwood + had often promised the children that if they were good some day they would + be allowed to take a shot at a Revenue Officer. + </p> + <p> + Soon she returned, bearing in her arms a number of bright shiny new guns. + The children crowded around in glee and soon all were supplied with + weapons except little Frank who of course was too young to use a gun and + was given a two-gallon jug of nice, old whisky to carry. Jed hitched up + old Taylor, the faithful farm horse, and as quick as you could say Jack + Robinson the little ones had piled into the old carryall. Round Mr. Sun + was just peeping over the Purple Hills when the merry little party started + on its way, singing and laughing at the prospect of the day's sport. + </p> + <p> + "I bet I kill five Revenue Officers," said little Edgar. + </p> + <p> + "Ha Ha Ha—you boaster, you," laughed Aunt Polly. "You will be lucky + if you kill two, for I fear they will be hard to find today." + </p> + <p> + "Oh do you think so, Aunt Polly?" said little Elinor and she began to cry, + for Elinor dearly loved to shoot. + </p> + <p> + "Hush dear," said Miss Pinkwood with a kindly pat, for she loved her + little charges and it hurt her to see them unhappy. "I was only joking. + And now children I will tell you a story." + </p> + <p> + "Oh goody goody," cried they all. "Tell us a true story." + </p> + <p> + "All right," said Aunt Polly. "I shall tell you a true story," and she + began. + </p> + <p> + "Once there was a brave handsome man—" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Welsbach," cried the children with one voice, for it was well known + in the neighborhood that Aunt Polly had long been sweet on Julius + Welsbach, the popular superintendent of the Sabbath School and the best + whisky maker for miles around. + </p> + <p> + "Hush children," said Aunt Polly blushing in vexation. "Of course not. And + if you interrupt me I shall not tell my story at all." But she was not + really angry. + </p> + <p> + "And one day this brave handsome man was out making whisky and he had just + sampled some when he looked up and what do you suppose he saw?" + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="144 (48K)" src="images/144.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Snakes," cried little Elmer whose father had often had delirium tremens, + greatly to the delight of his children. + </p> + <p> + "No, Elmer," said Miss Pinkwood, "not snakes." + </p> + <p> + "Pink lizards," cried little Esther, Elmer's sister. + </p> + <p> + "No," said Aunt Polly, with a hearty laugh, "he saw a—stranger. And + what do you suppose the stranger had?" + </p> + <p> + "A snoot full," chorused the Schultz twins. "He was pie-eyed." + </p> + <p> + "No," replied Miss Pinkwood laughing merrily. "It was before noon. Guess + again children. What did the stranger have?" + </p> + <p> + "Blind staggers," suggested little Faith whose mother had recently been + adjudged insane. + </p> + <p> + "Come children," replied Aunt Polly. "You are not very wide awake this + morning. The stranger had a gun. And when the brave handsome man offered + the stranger a drink what do you suppose the stranger said?" + </p> + <p> + "I know," cried little Prudence eagerly. "He said, 'Why yes I don't care + if I do.' That's what they all say." + </p> + <p> + "No, Prudence," replied Miss Pinkwood. "The stranger refused a drink." + </p> + <p> + "Oh come now, Aunt Polly," chorused the boys and girls. "You said you were + going to tell us a true story." And their little faces fell. + </p> + <p> + "Children," said Miss Polly, "the stranger refused the drink because he + was a Revenue Officer. And he pointed his gun at the brave handsome man + and said he would have to go to jail because he had not paid the tax on + his whisky. And the brave handsome man would have had to have gone to + jail, too; but fortunately his brother came up just at the right time and—" + </p> + <p> + "Shot the Revenuer dead," cried the children in glee. + </p> + <p> + "Yes children," said Miss Polly. "He shot the Revenue Officer dead." + </p> + <p> + "Oh goody goody," cried all. "Now tell us another story. Tell us about the + time your father killed a Revenue Officer with an ax." + </p> + <p> + "Oh you don't want to hear that again, do you children?" said Aunt Polly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes—yes—please," they cried, and Aunt Polly was just going + to begin when Jed the driver stopped his horses and said: + </p> + <p> + "This hilltop is as good a place to shoot from as I know of, Miss + Pinkwood. You can see both roads, and nobody can see you." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Jed," said Aunt Polly giving him a kindly smile, and without + more ado the children clambered out of the carryall and filled their guns + with powder and bullets. + </p> + <p> + "I get first shot," proudly announced Robert, the oldest boy, and somewhat + of a bully. + </p> + <p> + "Robert!" said Aunt Polly severely, and she looked almost ready to cry, + for Aunt Polly had tried hard to teach the boys to be true knights of + chivalry and it hurt her to have Robert wish to shoot a Revenue Officer + before the girls had had a chance. Robert had not meant to hurt Aunt + Polly's feelings but had only been thoughtless, and soon all was sunshine + again as little Ellen the youngest made ready to fire the first shot. + </p> + <p> + The children waited patiently and soon they were rewarded by the sight of + a Revenue Officer riding on horseback in the distant valley, as pretty a + target as one could wish. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="150 (47K)" src="images/150.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Now do be careful, dear," whispered Miss Pinkwood, "for if you miss, he + may take alarm and be off." But little Ellen did not miss. "Bang" went her + gun and the little Merry Breezes echoed back and forth, "She got him. She + got him", and old Mother West Wind smiled down at the happy sport. Sure + enough, when old Mr. Smoke had cleared away there was a nice dead Revenue + Officer lying in the road. "Well done, Ellen," said Miss Pinkwood, patting + her little charge affectionately which caused the happy girl to coo with + childish delight. + </p> + <p> + Mary had next shot and soon all were popping away in great glee. All the + merry wood folk gathered near to watch the children at their sport. There + was Johnny Chuck and Reddy Fox and Jimmy Skunk and Bobby Coon and oh + everybody. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="154 (107K)" src="images/154.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Soon round Mr. Sun was high in the Blue Sky and the children began to tire + somewhat of their sport. "I'm as hungry as a bear," said little Dick. "I'm + as hungry as two bears," said Emily. "Ha Ha Ha," laughed Miss Pinkwood, "I + know what will fix that," and soon she had spread out a delicious repast. + "Now children," said Miss Pinkwood when all had washed their faces and + hands, "while you were busy washing I prepared a surprise for you," and + from a large jug, before their delighted gaze, she poured out—what + do you think? "Bronxes," cried little Harriet. "Oh goody goody." And sure + enough Aunt Polly had prepared a jug of delicious Bronx cocktails which + all pronounced excellent. + </p> + <p> + And after that there were sandwiches and olives and pie and good three + year old whisky, too. + </p> + <p> + "That's awfully smooth rye, Aunt Polly," said little Prudence smacking her + two red lips. "I think I'll have another shot." + </p> + <p> + "No dear," said Miss Pinkwood, pleased by the compliment, but firm withal. + "Not now. Perhaps on the way home, if there is any left," for Aunt Polly + knew that too much alcohol in the middle of the day is bad for growing + children, and she had seen many a promising child spoiled by + over-indulgent parents. + </p> + <p> + After lunch those children who could stand helped Aunt Polly to clear away + the dishes and then all went sound asleep, as is the custom in + Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + When they awoke round Mr. Sun was just sinking behind the Purple Hills and + so, after taking a few more scattered shots at Revenue Officers, they + piled once more into the carryall and drove back to town. And as they + passed Mrs. Oliphant's house (Aunt Polly's sister) Aunt Flo Oliphant came + out on the porch and waved her handkerchief at the merry party. + </p> + <p> + "Let's give her a cheer," said Fred. + </p> + <p> + "Agreed," cried they all, and so twelve little throats united in three + lusty "huzzahs" which made Auntie Flo very happy you may be sure. + </p> + <p> + And as they drove up before the Pinkwoods' modest home twelve tired but + happy children with one accord voted the Whisky Rebellion capital fun and + Aunt Polly a brick. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <h3> + HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright + </p> + <p> + On a brisk winter evening in the winter of 1864 the palatial Fifth Avenue + "palace" of Cornelius van der Griff was brilliantly lighted with many + brilliant lights. Outside the imposing front entrance a small group of + pedestrians had gathered to gape enviously at the invited guests of the + "four hundred" who were beginning to arrive in elegant equipages, + expensive ball-dresses and fashionable "swallowtails". + </p> + <p> + "Hully gee!" exclaimed little Frank, a crippled newsboy who was the only + support of an aged mother, as a particularly sumptuous carriage drove up + and a stylishly dressed lady of fifty-five or sixty stepped out + accompanied by a haughty society girl and an elderly gentleman in clerical + dress. It was Mrs. Rhinelander, a social leader, and her daughter + Geraldine, together with the Rev. Dr. Gedney, pastor of an exclusive Fifth + Avenue church. + </p> + <p> + "What common looking people," said Mrs. Rhinelander, surveying the crowd + aristocratically with her lorgnette. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, aren't they?" replied the clergyman with a condescending glance + which ill befit his clerical garb. + </p> + <p> + "I'm glad you don't have people like that dans votre eglise, Dr. Gedney," + said young Geraldine, who thought it was "smart" to display her + proficiency in the stylish French tongue. At this moment the door of the + van der Griff residence was opened for them by an imposing footman in + scarlet livery and they passed into the abode of the "elect". + </p> + <p> + "Hully gee!" repeated little Frank. + </p> + <p> + "What's going on to-night?" asked a newcomer. + </p> + <p> + "Gee—don't youse know?" answered the newsboy. "Dis is de van der + Griffs' and tonight dey are giving a swell dinner for General Grant. Dat + lady wot just went in was old Mrs. Rhinelander. I seen her pitcher in de + last Harper's Weekly and dere was a story in de paper dis morning dat her + daughter Geraldine was going to marry de General." + </p> + <p> + "That isn't so," broke in another. "It was just a rumor." + </p> + <p> + "Well, anyway," said Frank, "I wisht de General would hurry up and come—it's + getting cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey." The onlookers + laughed merrily at his humorous reference to the frigid temperature, + although many cast sympathetic looks at his thin threadbare garments and + registered a kindly thought for this brave boy who so philosophically + accepted the buffets of fate. + </p> + <p> + "I bet this is him now," cried Frank, and all waited expectantly as a + vehicle drove up. The cabman jumped off his box and held the carriage door + open. + </p> + <p> + "Here you are, Miss Flowers," he said, touching his hat respectfully. + </p> + <p> + A silver peal of rippling laughter sounded from the interior of the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + "Why Jerry," came in velvet tones addressed to the coachman, "You mustn't + be so formal just because I have come to New York to live. Call me 'Miss + Ella,' of course, just like you did when we lived out in Kansas," and with + these words Miss Ella Flowers, for it was she, stepped out of the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="164 (107K)" src="images/164.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + A hush fell on the crowd as they caught sight of her face—a hush of + silent tribute to the clear sweet womanhood of that pure countenance. A + young man on the edge of the crowd who was on the verge of becoming a + drunkard burst into tears and walked rapidly away to join the nearest + church. A pr-st—-te who had been plying her nefarious trade on the + avenue, sank to her knees to pray for strength to go back to her aged + parents on the farm. Another young man, catching sight of Ella's pure + face, vowed to write home to his old mother and send her the money he had + been expending in the city on drinks and dissipation. + </p> + <p> + And well might these city people be affected by the glimpse of the sweet + noble virtue which shone forth so radiantly in this Kansas girl's + countenance. Although born in Jersey City, Ella had moved with her parents + to the west at an early age and she had grown up in the open country where + a man's a man and women lead clean sweet womanly lives. Out in the pure + air of God's green places and amid kindly, simple, big hearted folks, + little Ella had blossomed and thrived, the pride of the whole country, and + as she had grown to womanhood there was many a masculine heart beat a + little faster for her presence and many a manly blush of admiration came + into the features of her admirers as she whirled gracefully with them in + the innocent pleasure of a simple country dance. But on her eighteenth + birthday, her parents had passed on to the Great Beyond and the + heartbroken Ella had come East to live with Mrs. Montgomery, her aunt in + Jersey City. This lady, being socially prominent in New York's "four + hundred", was of course quite ambitious that her pretty little niece from + the West should also enter society. For the last three months, therefore, + Ella had been feted at all the better class homes in New York and Jersey + City, and as Mrs. van der Griff, the Fifth Avenue social leader, was in + the same set as Ella's aunt, it was only natural that when making out her + list of guests for the dinner in honor of General Grant she should include + the beautiful niece of her friend. + </p> + <p> + As Ella stepped from the carriage, her gaze fell upon little Frank, the + crippled newsboy, and her eyes quickly filled with tears, for social + success had not yet caused her to forget that "blessed are the weak". + Taking out her purse, she gave Frank a silver dollar and a warm look of + sympathy as she passed into the house. + </p> + <p> + "Gee, there went an angel," whispered the little cripple, and many who + heard him silently echoed that thought in their hearts. Nor were they far + from wrong. + </p> + <p> + But even an angel is not free from temptation, and by letting Ella go into + society her aunt was exposing the girl to the whisperings of Satan—whisperings + of things material rather than things spiritual. Many a girl just as pure + as Ella has found her standards gradually lowered and her moral character + slowly weakened by the contact with the so-called "refined" and "cultured" + infidels one meets in fashionable society. Many a father and mother whose + ambition has caused them to have their daughter go out in society have + bitterly repented of that step as they watched the poor girl gradually + succumbing to the temptation of the world. Let her who thinks it is + "smart" to be in society consider that our brothels with their red plush + curtains, their hardwood floors and their luxurious appointments, are + filled largely with the worn out belles and debutantes of fashionable + society. + </p> + <p> + The next minute a bugle call sounded down the street and up drove a team + of prancing grays. Two soldiers sprang down from the coachman's box and + stood at rigid attention while the door of the carriage opened and out + stepped General Ulysses S. Grant. + </p> + <p> + A murmur of admiration swept over the crowd at the sight of his manly + inspiring features, in which the clean cut virility of a life free from + dissipation was accentuated by the neatly trimmed black beard. His erect + military bearing—his neat, well fitting uniform—but above all + his frank open face proclaimed him a man's man—a man among men. A + cheer burst from the lips of the onlookers and the brave but modest + general lowered his eyes and blushed as he acknowledged their greeting. + </p> + <p> + "Men and women," he said, in a voice which although low, one could see was + accustomed to being obeyed, "I thank you for your cheers. It makes my + heart rejoice to hear them, for I know you are not cheering me personally + but only as one of the many men who are fighting for the cause of liberty + and freedom, and for——" the general's voice broke a little, + but he mastered his emotion and went on—"for the flag we all love." + </p> + <p> + At this he pulled from his pocket an American flag and held it up so that + all could see. Cheer after cheer rent the air, and tears came to the + general's eyes at this mark of devotion to the common cause. + </p> + <p> + "Wipe the d—d rebels off the face of the earth, G-d d—'em," + shouted a too enthusiastic member of the crowd who, I fear, was a little + the worse for drink. In an instant General Grant had stepped up to him and + fixed upon him those fearless blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + "My man," said the general, "It hurts me to hear you give vent to those + oaths, especially in the presence of ladies. Soldiers do not curse, and I + think you would do well to follow their example." + </p> + <p> + The other lowered his head shamefacedly. "General," he said, "You're right + and I apologize." + </p> + <p> + A smile lit up the general's handsome features and he extended his hand to + the other. + </p> + <p> + "Shake on it," he said simply, and as the crowd roared its approval of + this speech the two men "shook". + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile within the van der Griff house all were agog with excitement in + expectation of the arrival of the distinguished guest. Expensively dressed + ladies fluttered here and there amid the elegant appointments; servants in + stylish livery passed to and fro with trays of wine and other spirituous + liquors. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of the cheering outside, the haughty Mrs. Rhinelander patted + her daughter Geraldine nervously, and between mother and daughter passed a + glance of understanding, for both felt that to-night, if ever, was + Geraldine's opportunity to win the handsome and popular general. + </p> + <p> + The doorbell rang, and a hush fell over the chattering assemblage; then + came the proud announcement from the doorman—"General Ulysses S. + Grant"—and all the society belles crowded forward around the guest + of honor. + </p> + <p> + It had been rumored that the general, being a soldier, was ignorant of + social etiquette, but such proved to be far from the case. Indeed, he + handled himself with such ease of manner that he captivated all, and for + each and every young miss he had an apt phrase or a pretty compliment, + greatly to their delight. + </p> + <p> + "Pleased to know you"—"Glad to shake the hand of such a pretty girl"—"What + a nice little hand—I wish I might hold it all evening"—with + these and kindred pleasantries the general won the way into the graces of + Mrs. van der Griff's fair guests, and many a female heart fluttered in her + bosom as she gazed into the clear blue eyes of the soldier, and listened + to his well chosen tactful words. + </p> + <p> + "And how is the dear General this evening?"—this in the affected + tone of old Mrs. Rhinelander, as she forced her way through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + "Finer than silk," replied he, and he added, solicitously, "I hope you + have recovered from your lumbago, Mrs. Rhinelander." + </p> + <p> + "Oh quite," answered she, "and here is Geraldine, General," and the + ambitious mother pushed her daughter forward. + </p> + <p> + "Comment vous portez vous, mon General," said Geraldine in French, "I hope + we can have a nice tete-a-tete to-night," and she fawned upon her prey in + a manner that would have sickened a less artificial gathering. + </p> + <p> + Were there not some amid all that fashionable throng in whom ideals of + purity and true womanhood lived—some who cared enough for the + sacredness of real love to cry upon this hollow mockery that was being + used to ensnare the simple, honest soldier? There was only one, and she + was at that moment entering the drawing room for the purpose of being + presented to the general. Need I name her? + </p> + <p> + Ella, for it was she, had been upstairs busying herself with her toilet + when General Grant had arrived and she now hurried forward to pay her + homage to the great soldier. And then, as she caught sight of his face, + she stopped suddenly and a deep crimson blush spread over her features. + She looked again, and then drew back behind a nearby portiere, her heart + beating wildly. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="176 (73K)" src="images/176.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Well did Ella remember where she had seen that countenance before, and as + she stood there trembling the whole scene of her folly came back to her. + It had happened in Kansas, just before her parents died, on one sunny May + morning. She had gone for a walk; her footsteps had led her to the banks + of a secluded lake where she often went when she wished to be alone. Many + an afternoon had Ella dreamed idly away on this shore, but that day, for + some reason, she had felt unusually full of life and not at all like + dreaming. Obeying a thoughtless but innocent impulse, with no intention of + evil, she had taken off her clothes and plunged thus n-k-d into the cool + waters of the lake. After she had swum around a little she began to + realize the extent of her folly and was hurriedly swimming towards the + shore when a terrific cramp had seized her lower limbs, rendering them + powerless. Her first impulse, to scream for help, was quickly checked with + a deep blush, as she realized the consequences if a man should hear her + call, for nearby was an encampment of Union soldiers, none of whom she + knew. The perplexed and helpless girl was in sore straits and was slowly + sinking for the third time, when a bearded stranger in soldier's uniform + appeared on the bank and dove into the water. To her horror he swam + rapidly towards her—but her shame was soon changed to joy when she + realized that he was purposely keeping his eyes tight shut. With a few + swift powerful strokes he reached her side, and, blushing deeply, took off + his blue coat, fastened it around her, opened his eyes, and swam with her + to the shore. Carrying her to where she had left her clothes he stayed + only long enough to assure himself that she had completely recovered the + use of her limbs, and evidently to spare her further embarrassment, had + vanished as quickly and as mysteriously as he had appeared. + </p> + <p> + Many a night after that had Ella lain awake thinking of the splendid + features and, the even more splendid conduct of this unknown knight who + wore the uniform of the Union army. "How I love him," she would whisper to + herself; "but how he must despise me!" she would cry, and her pillow was + often wet with tears of shame and mortification at her folly. + </p> + <p> + It was shortly after this episode that her parents had taken sick and + passed away. Ella had come East and had given up hope of ever seeing her + rescuer again. You may imagine her feelings then when, on entering the + drawing room at the van der Griffs', she discovered that the stranger who + had so gallantly and tactfully rescued her from a watery grave was none + other than General Ulysses S. Grant. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl was torn by a tumult of contrary emotions. Suppose he should + remember her face. She blushed at the thought. And besides what chance had + she to win such a great man's heart in competition with these society + girls like Geraldine Rhinelander who had been "abroad" and spoke French. + </p> + <p> + At that moment one of the liveried servants approached the general with a + trayful of filled wine glasses. So engrossed was the soldier hero in + talking to Geraldine—or, rather, in listening to her alluring + chatter—that he did not at first notice what was being offered him. + </p> + <p> + "Will you have a drink of champagne wine, General?" said Mrs. van der + Griff who stood near. + </p> + <p> + The general raised his head and frowned as if he did not understand. + </p> + <p> + "Come, mon General," cried Geraldine gayly, "We shall drink a votre succes + dans la guerre," and the flighty girl raised a glass of wine on high. + Several of the guests crowded around and all were about to drink to the + general's health. + </p> + <p> + "Stop," cried General Grant suddenly realizing what was being done, and + something in the tone of his voice made everyone pause. + </p> + <p> + "Madam," said he, turning to Mrs. van der Griff, "Am I to understand that + there is liquor in those glasses?" + </p> + <p> + "Why yes, General," said the hostess smiling uneasily. "It is just a + little champagne wine." + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="180 (66K)" src="images/180.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Madam," said the general, "It may be 'just champagne wine' to you, but + 'just champagne wine' has ruined many a poor fellow and to me all + alcoholic beverages are an abomination. I cannot consent, madam, to remain + under your roof if they are to be served. I have never taken a drop—I + have tried to stamp it out of the army, and I owe it to my soldiers to + decline to be a guest at a house where wine and liquor are served." + </p> + <p> + An excited buzz of comment arose as the general delivered this ultimatum. + A few there were who secretly approved his sentiments, but they were far + too few in numbers and constant indulgence in alcohol had weakened their + wills so that they dared not stand forth. An angry flush appeared on the + face of the hostess, for in society, "good form" is more important than + courage and ideals, and by his frank statement General Grant had violently + violated the canons of correct social etiquette. + </p> + <p> + "Very well, Mr. Grant," she said, stressing the "Mr."—"if that's the + way you feel about it——" + </p> + <p> + "Stop," cried an unexpected voice, and to the amazement of all Ella + Flowers stepped forward, her teeth clenched, her eyes blazing. + </p> + <p> + "Stop," she repeated, "He is right—the liquor evil is one of the + worst curses of modern civilization, and if General Grant leaves, so do + I." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. van der Griff hesitated for an instant, and then suddenly forced a + smile. + </p> + <p> + "Why Ella dear, of course General Grant is right," said she, for it was + well known in financial circles that her husband, Mr. van der Griff, had + recently borrowed heavily from Ella's uncle. "There will not be a drop of + wine served to-night, and now General, shall we go in to dinner? Will you + be so kind as to lead the way with Miss Rhinelander?" The hostess had + recovered her composure, and smiling sweetly at the guest of honor, gave + orders to the servants to remove the wine glasses. + </p> + <p> + But General Grant did not hear her; he was looking at Ella Flowers. And as + he gazed at the sweet beauty of her countenance he seemed to feel rising + within him something which he had never felt before—something which + made everything else seem petty and trivial. And as he looked into her + eyes and she looked into his, he read her answer—the only answer + true womanhood can make to clean, worthy manhood. + </p> + <p> + "Shall we go a la salle-a-manger?" sounded a voice in his ears, and + Geraldine's sinuous arm was thrust through his. + </p> + <p> + General Grant took the proffered talon and gently removed it from him. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Rhinelander," he said firmly, "I am taking this young lady as my + partner," and suiting the action to the word, he graciously extended his + arm to Ella who took it with a pretty blush. + </p> + <p> + It was General Grant's turn to blush when the other guests, with a few + exceptions, applauded his choice loudly, and made way enthusiastically as + the handsome couple advanced to the brilliantly lighted dining room. + </p> + <p> + But although the hostess had provided the most costly of viands, I am + afraid that the brave general did not fully appreciate them, for in his + soul was the joy of a strong man who has found his mate and in his heart + was the singing of the eternal song, "I love her—I love her—I + love her!" + </p> + <p> + It was only too apparent to the other guests what had happened and to + their credit be it said that they heartily approved his choice, for Mrs. + Rhinelander and her scheming daughter Geraldine had made countless enemies + with their haughty manners, whereas the sweet simplicity of Ella Flowers + had won her numerous friends. And all laughed merrily when General Grant, + in his after dinner speech, said "flowers" instead of "flour" when + speaking of provisioning the army—a slip which caused both the + general and Miss Flowers to blush furiously, greatly to the delight of the + good-natured guests. "All the world loves a lover"—truer words were + never penned. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, while the other men, according to the usages of best + society, were filling the air of the dining room with the fumes of + nicotine, the general, who did not use tobacco, excused himself—amid + many sly winks from the other men—and wandered out into the + conservatory. + </p> + <p> + There he found Ella. + </p> + <p> + "General," she began. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Flowers," said the strong man simply, "Call me Ulysses." + </p> + <p> + And there let us leave them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h2> + <h3> + CUSTER'S LAST STAND + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of Edith Wharton + </p> + <p> + It was already late afternoon and the gas street lamps of the Boul' Mich' + were being lighted for Paris, or at least for Paris in summer, by a + somewhat frigid looking allumeur, when Philip Custer came to the end of + his letter. He hesitated for an instant, wrote "Your——," then + crossed that out and substituted "Sincerely." No, decidedly the first + ending, with its, as is, or, rather, as ordinarily is, the case in + hymeneal epistles, somewhat possessive sense, would no longer suffice. + "Yours truly"—perhaps; "sincerely"—better; but certainly not + "Your husband." He was done, thank God, with presences. + </p> + <p> + Philip sipped his absinthe and gazed for an instant through the Cafe + window; a solitary fiacre rattled by; he picked up the result of his + afternoon's labor, wearily. + </p> + <p> + "Dear Mary," he read, "When I told you that my employers were sending me + to Paris, I lied to you. It was, perhaps, the first direct lie that I ever + told you; it was, I know now, the last. But a falsehood by word of mouth + mattered really very little in comparison with the enormous lie that my + life with you had become." + </p> + <p> + Philip paused and smiled, somewhat bitterly, at that point in the letter. + Mary, with her American woman's intuition, would undoubtedly surmise that + he had run off with Mrs. Everett; there was a certain ironical humor in + the fact that Mary's mistaken guess would be sadly indicative of her whole + failure to understand what her husband was, to use a slang expression, + "driving at." + </p> + <p> + "I hope that you will believe me when I say that I came to Paris to paint. + In the past four years the desire to do that has grown steadily until it + has mastered me. You do not understand. I found no one in America who did. + I think my mother might have, had she lived; certainly it is utterly + incomprehensible to father." + </p> + <p> + Philip stopped. Ay, there was the rub—General Custer, and all that + he stood for. Philip glimpsed momentarily those early boyhood days with + his father, spent mainly in army posts; the boy's cavalry uniform, in + which he had ridden old Bess about the camp, waving his miniature sabre; + the day he had been thrown to the ground by a strange horse which he had + disobediently mounted, just as his father arrived on the scene. Philip had + never forgotten his father's words that day. "Don't crawl, son,—don't + whine. It was your fault this time and you deserved what you got. Lots of + times it won't be your fault, but you'll have to take your licking anyway. + But remember this, son—take your medicine like a man—always." + </p> + <p> + Philip groaned; he knew what the general would say when the news of his + son's desertion of his wife and four year old boy reached him. He knew + that he never could explain to his father the absolute torture of the last + four years of enervating domesticity and business mediocrity—the + torture of the Beauty within him crying for expression, half satisfied by + the stolen evenings at the art school but constantly growing stronger in + its all-consuming appeal. No, life to his father was a simple problem in + army ethics—a problem in which duty was "a", one of the known + factors; "x," the unknown, was either "bravery" or "cowardice" when + brought in contact with "a". Having solved this problem, his father had + closed the book; of the higher mathematics, and especially of those + complex problems to which no living man knew the final answer, he had no + conception. And yet—— + </p> + <p> + Philip resumed his reading to avoid the old endless maze of subtleties. + </p> + <p> + "It is not that I did not—or do not—love you. It is, rather, + that something within me is crying out—something which is stronger + than I, and which I cannot resist. I have waited two years to be sure. + Yesterday, as soon as I reached here, I took my work to the man who is + considered the finest art critic in Paris. He told me that there was a + quality to my painting which he had seen in that of no living artist; he + told me that in five years of hard work I should be able to produce work + which Botticelli would be proud to have done. Do you understand that, Mary—Botticelli! + </p> + <p> + "But no, forgive me. My paean of joy comes strangely in a letter which + should be of abject humility for what must seem to you, to father, and to + all, a cowardly, selfish act of desertion—a whining failure to face + life. Oh dear, dear Mary if you could but understand what a hell I have + been through—" + </p> + <p> + Philip took his pen and crossed out the last line so that no one could + read what had been there. + </p> + <p> + "Materially, of course, you and little George will be better off; the + foolish pride with which I refused to let your parents help us now no + longer stands in their way. You should have no difficulty about a divorce. + </p> + <p> + "You can dispose of my things as you see fit; there is nothing I care + about keeping which I did not bring. + </p> + <p> + "Again, Mary, I cannot ask you to forgive, or even to understand, but I do + hope that you will believe me when I say that this act of mine is the most + honest thing I have ever done, and that to have acted out the tragi-comedy + in the part of a happy contented husband would have made of both of our + lives a bitter useless farce. Sincerely, Philip." + </p> + <p> + He folded the pages and addressed the envelope. + </p> + <p> + "Pardon, Monsieur"—a whiff of sulphur came to his nose as the waiter + bent over the table to light the gas above him. "Would Monsieur like to + see the journal? There is a most amusing story about—— The + bill, Monsieur? Yes—in a moment." + </p> + <p> + Philip glanced nervously through the pages of the Temps. He was anxious to + get the letter to the post—to have done with indecision and worry. + It would be a blessed relief when the thing was finally done beyond chance + of recall; why couldn't that stupid waiter hurry? + </p> + <p> + On the last page of the newspaper was an item headlined "Recent News from + America." Below was a sub-heading "Horrible Massacre of Soldiers by + Indians—Brave Stand of American Troopers." He caught the name + "Custer" and read: + </p> + <p> + "And by his brave death at the hands of the Indians, this gallant American + general has made the name of Custer one which will forever be associated + with courage of the highest type." + </p> + <p> + He read it all through again and sat quietly as the hand of Polyphemus + closed over him. He even smiled a little—a weary, ironic smile. + </p> + <p> + "Monsieur desires something more, perhaps"—the waiter held out the + bill. + </p> + <p> + Philip smiled. "No—Monsieur has finished—there is nothing + more." + </p> + <p> + Then he repeated slowly, "There is nothing more." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Philip watched his son George blow out the twelve candles on his birthday + cake. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," said George, "when I get to be eighteen, can I be a soldier just + like grandfather up there?" He pointed to the portrait of Philip's father + in uniform which hung in the dining room. + </p> + <p> + "Of course you can, dear," said his mother. "But you must be a brave boy". + </p> + <p> + "Grandfather was awful brave, wasn't he father?" This from little Mary + between mouthfuls of cake. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Mary," Philip answered. "He was very, very brave." + </p> + <p> + "Of course he was," said George. "He was an American." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," answered Philip, "That explains it.—he was an American." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Custer looked up at the portrait of her distinguished father-in-law. + </p> + <p> + "You know Philip, I think it must be quite nice to be able to paint a + picture like that. I've often wondered why you never kept up your art." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE + </h2> + <h3> + "FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD" + </h3> + <p> + A DRAMA OF THE GREAT WAR + </p> + <p> + Act I: In the Manner of Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews + </p> + <p> + Act 2: In the Manner of Eugene O'Neill + </p> + <p> + ACT ONE + </p> + <p> + (Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews) + </p> + <p> + SCENE I + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A principal street of an American city in the spring of 1918. +</pre> + <p> + At the rear of the stage, representing the opposite sidewalk of the + street, are gathered many people come to bid farewell to the boys of the + Blankth regiment who are soon to march past on their way to France. + </p> + <p> + Extending across the "street", from footlights to "sidewalk", is a large + white plaster arch, gayly decorated with the Allied colors. + </p> + <p> + On this arch is the inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + </p> + <p> + At the rising of the curtain, distant march music is heard (off stage, + right); this constantly grows louder during the ensuing dialogue which + takes place between three elderly women crowded together at the edge of + the sidewalk. These women, although, before the war, of different stations + in social rank, are now united, as are all mothers in the Allied + countries, by the glorious badge which each proudly wears pinned over her + heart—the service star. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Wife—I hear them coming. + </p> + <p> + The Street-cleaner's Wife—So do I. I hope my boy Pat sees me. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Wife—I told my Jean where to look. + </p> + <p> + The approaching music and the cheering of the spectators drowns out + further conversation. + </p> + <p> + Enter (right) the regimental band playing the "Stars and Stripes Forever." + They march through the arch and exit left. Following them comes the flag, + at the sight of which all the male spectators (young boys and men too old + to fight) remove their hats. After the colors come the troops, splendid + clean faced fellows, in whose eyes shines the light of civilization's + ideals, in whose ears rings the never forgettable cry of heroic France and + brave little Belgium. The boys are marching four abreast, with a firm + determined step; it is as though each man were saying to himself "They + shall not pass." + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="204 (101K)" src="images/204.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + After the first few squads have marched through the arch and off left, the + command is issued off-stage "Company—HALT." A young lieutenant + repeats this order to his men, and the column comes to a stop. The men + stand at attention until given the command "Rest", when they relax and a + murmur of conversation arises from the ranks, in which characteristic + sentences "German ideals are not our ideals" and "Suppose it was your own + sister" show only too well what the boys are thinking of day and night. + </p> + <p> + As the column halts, the three service star mothers rush out from the curb + and embrace their sons who happen to be in this company. At the same time + a very attractive girl runs up to the young lieutenant. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Lieutenant—Ellen! + His Fiancee—John! + The Professor's Son} + The Streetcleaner's Son } Mother! + The Pawnbroker's Son } + + The Professor's Wife } + The Streetcleaner's Wife } My Boy! + The Pawnbroker's Wife } + Voice off stage—Company—Atten SHUN! +</pre> + <p> + The farewells are said, the men come to attention. + </p> + <p> + Voice off stage—Forward—MARCH + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(Pointing with his sword to the inscription on the + arch)—Forward for the Freedom of the World—MARCH. + </p> + <p> + The men's teeth click together, their heads are thrown back, and with a + light in their eyes that somehow suggests Joan of Arc the Crusaders move + on. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SCENE 2 + + Three months later. +</pre> + <p> + A section of an American front line trench now occupied by the Blankth + regiment. + </p> + <p> + It is early morning and the three soldiers mentioned in Scene 1 are + conversing together for perhaps the last time, for soon they are to be + given the chance which every American man desires more than anything in + the world—the opportunity to go "over the top". + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—Well fellows, in a few minutes we shall be able + to show the people at home that their boys are not cowards when the fate + of civilization is at stake. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Son—Here's a newspaper clipping mother sent me. + It's from a speech made the other day in Congress. (He reads) "And we and + our children—and our children's children will never forget the debt + we owe those brave boys who are now in France." + </p> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—That makes a fellow feel pretty good inside, + doesn't it? It makes me glad I'm doing my bit—and after the war I + hope the ideals which have inspired us all will make us better citizens in + a better world. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—Not only will we be better citizens—not + only will the torch of liberty shine more brightly—but also each one + of us will go back to his job with a deeper vision. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Son—That's right I am a musician—a pianist, + you know—and I hope that after the war I shall be able to tell + America, through my music, of the glory of this holy cause. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—I didn't know you were a pianist. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Son—Yes—ever since I was a boy—I have + had no other interest. My father tried to make me go into his shop but I + couldn't stand it. He got angry and refused to support me; I had a hard + time until I won a scholarship at a New York musical college. Just before + the war I had a chance to play the Schumann concerto with the + Philharmonic; the critics all said that in another year I would be—but + fellows—you must think me frightfully conceited to talk so, and + besides what matters my musical career in comparison with the sacrifice + which everyone is making? + </p> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—And gladly making, too, for it is easy to + give up all, as did Joan of Arc, for France. Attention, men! here comes + one of our officers. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The three stand at attention. +</pre> + <p> + Enter the Lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Well, men, do you feel ready? + </p> + <p> + The Three—More than ready, sir—eager. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Brave men! (To the Professor's Son) Come here a + minute, Keating. I have something to ask you before we go over the top. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son and the Lieutenant go to one side. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(To the other two in a kindly manner)—At ease! + </p> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—Thank you, sir. + </p> + <p> + They relax from their rigid posture of "attention". + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(To the Professor's Son)—Keating, when we "go + over", we—may—never come back, you know. And I want to ask a + favor of you. I am engaged—to a girl back home—here is her + picture (he draws a photograph from his inner breast pocket and shows it + to the Professor's Son.) + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—She is beautiful, Sir. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(Putting the photograph back in his pocket)—Yes + very beautiful. And (dropping his eyes)—I love her. If—if I + should "go west" I want you to write her and tell her that my last + thoughts were of my country and—her. We are to be married—after + the war—if (suddenly clearing his throat). Her name is Ellen + Radcliff—here, I'll write the address down for you. + </p> + <p> + He does so, and hands the slip of paper to the Professor's Son, who + discreetly turns away. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(Brusquely)—That's all, Keating. + </p> + <p> + A bugle sounds. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Attention men! At the next bugle call you go over the + top—remember that you are Americans and that Americans know how to + fight and die in the cause of liberty and for the freedom of the world. + The Three Soldiers—We are ready to make the supreme sacrifice if + need be. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bugle sounds. +</pre> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(Climbing up the ladder to the top of the trench)—Follow + me, men— + </p> + <p> + The Three Soldiers—(Climbing up after him)—Lafayette—we + come, though poppies bloom in Flanders field. + </p> + <p> + They go "over the top". + </p> + <p> + SCENE 3 + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A section of a Hun trench a minute later. Two Hun soldiers are +conversing together; another Hun is reading a copy of Nietzsche. +</pre> + <p> + First Hun Soldier—And then we cut the hands off all the little + children—oh it was wonderful. + </p> + <p> + Second Hun Soldier—I wish I had been there. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Hun Lieutenant rushes in. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Hun Lieutenant—(Kicking the three men and brandishing his +revolver)—Swine—wake up—here come the Americans. + + The three spring to their feet and seize their guns. At the top +of the trench appears the American lieutenant, closely followed by the +three soldiers. +</pre> + <p> + The American Lieutenant—(Coolly)—We come to avenge the sinking + of the Lusitania. + </p> + <p> + The Hun Lieutenant—Hoch der Kaiser! Might is stronger than right! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He treacherously tries to shoot the American but the Professor's +Son disarms him with his bayonet. The three Hun soldiers offer a show of +resistance. +</pre> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—(To first Hun soldier)—Your hands are + unclean with the murder of innocent women and children. + </p> + <p> + First Hun Soldier—(Dropping his gun)—Kamerad! + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Son—(To the other Hun soldiers)—Prussianism + has destroyed the Germany of Bach and Beethoven and you fellows know it, + too. + </p> + <p> + Second and third Hun Soldiers—(Dropping their guns)—Kamerad! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The American Lieutenant—Men—you have kept the faith. I am proud of +you. Forward! + + An explosion (not too loud to annoy the audience) is heard off +stage right. +</pre> + <p> + The Professor's Son—(Sinking to the ground) Fellows, I'm afraid + they've got me. + </p> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—What a shame! + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Is there anything we can do to ease the pain? + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="218 (119K)" src="images/218.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—(Weakening rapidly) No—go on, boys, carry + the—banner of—civilization's ideals—forward—without + me—Tell mother I'm glad—I did—my bit—for the + freedom—of the world—fellows, the only—thing—I + regret—is that I won't—be able to be with you—when you—go + back—to enjoy the gratitude—of America—good-bye, + fellows, may you drink—to the full—the rewards of a grateful + nation. + </p> + <p> + He dies. The others regretfully leave him behind as they push on after the + fleeing Huns. + </p> + <p> + The stage is slowly darkened—the noise of battle dies away. + </p> + <p> + Enter an Angel in the uniform of the Y.M.C.A. She goes up to the fallen + hero and taking him in her arms tenderly carries him off the stage. + </p> + <p> + CURTAIN TWO YEARS PASS ACT TWO + </p> + <p> + (Eugene O'Neill) + </p> + <p> + SCENE I + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bedroom of a bachelor apartment in New York City in the Fall +of 1920. +</pre> + <p> + There is about the room an air of neglect, as though the occupant did not + particularly give a damn whether he slept in this room or in hell. This is + evidenced in a general way by the absence of any attempts at decoration + and by the presence of dirty laundry and unopened letters scattered about + the room. + </p> + <p> + The furniture consists of a bed and a bureau; at the foot of the former is + a trunk such as was used by American army officers in the recent war. + </p> + <p> + Although it is three in the morning, the bed is unoccupied. The electric + light over the bureau has been left lighted. + </p> + <p> + The lamp flickers and goes out for a minute; when it again flashes on, the + Angel and the Professor's Son are seen standing in the room, as though + they had come there directly from the close of the preceding act; the + Angel, however, has completely removed all Y.M.C.A. insignia and now has a + beard and chews tobacco; from time to time he spits out of the window. + </p> + <p> + The angel—Why the hell weren't you satisfied to stay in heaven? + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—Well, I just wanted to see my old buddies once + more—I want to see them enjoying the gratitude of the world. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Angel—Hmmmm—well, this is where your Lieutenant now lives—and I +think I hear him coming. + + They step behind a curtain. The noise of a key rattling in a +lock is heard, then a light flashes on in the next room. The sound of +unsteady footsteps—a vase is knocked over—a curse—then enter the +Lieutenant. +</pre> + <p> + He wears a dinner-coat, one sleeve of which hangs empty. His face is + white, his eyes set, his mouth hard and hopeless. He is drunk—not + hilariously—but with the drunkenness of despair. + </p> + <p> + He sits down on the bed and remains for several minutes, his head in his + hands. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—God, I'm drunk—(after a pause)—drunk + again—well, what of it—what the hell difference does it make—get + drunk if I want to—sure I will—get drunk—that's the dope + DRUNK—oh Christ—! + </p> + <p> + He throws himself on the bed and after lying there a few minutes sits up. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Gotta have another drink—can't go sleep, God + damn it—brain too clear—gotta kill brain—that's the dope—kill + brain—forget—wipe out past— + </p> + <p> + He opens the trunk in his search for liquor. He suddenly pulls out his + lieutenant's coat and holds it up. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—There's that God damn thing—never wanted to see + it again—wound stripes on right sleeve, too—hurrah for brave + soldier—arm shot off to—to make world safe for democracy—blaa—the + god damn hypocrites—democracy hell—arm shot off because I + wasn't clever enough to stay out of it—ought to have had sense + enough to join the—the ordinance department or—or the Y.M.C.A. + </p> + <p> + He feels aimlessly through the pockets of the coat. Suddenly, from the + inside breast pocket he draws out something—a photograph— + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Ellen! Oh God! + </p> + <p> + He gazes at the picture for a long time. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="226 (76K)" src="images/226.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Yes, Ellen, I should have joined the Y.M.C.A. + shouldn't I?—where they don't get their arms shot off—couldn't + marry a man with one arm, could you?—of course not—think of + looking at an empty sleeve year after year—children might be born + with only one arm, too—children—oh God damn you, Ellen, you + and your Y.M.C.A. husband! + </p> + <p> + He tears the picture in two and hurls it into the trunk. Then he sinks + onto the bed, sobbing drunkenly. After a few minutes, he walks over to the + trunk and picks up one half of the torn picture. He turns it over in his + hand and reads the writing on the back. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant (Reading)—"I'm waiting for you, dear—when you + have done your bit 'for the freedom of the world'." + </p> + <p> + He smiles, wearily, and reaches down to pick up the other half of the + picture. His eye is caught by something shiny; it is his army revolver. He + slowly picks it up and looks at it for a long time. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—For the freedom of the world— + </p> + <p> + He quickly opens his top bureau drawer and takes out a box of cartridges. + One of these he inserts in a chamber of his revolver. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—For the FREEDOM— + </p> + <p> + He laughs. + </p> + <p> + As the curtain falls he presses the revolver against his temple and fires. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SCENE 2 + + A bare room in a boarding house. To the left is a bed, to the +right a grand piano—the latter curiously out of keeping with the other +cheap furnishings. The room is in partial darkness. +</pre> + <p> + The door slowly swings open; the Angel and the Professor's Son enter. + </p> + <p> + The Angel—And here you have the room of your friend the Pawnbroker's + Son—the musical genius—with a brilliant future. + </p> + <p> + They hide in a closet, leaving the door partly open. + </p> + <p> + Enter Jean, the Pawnbroker's Son. He has on a cutaway suit—a relic + of his first and last public concert before the war. His shoulders sag + dejectedly and his face is drawn and white. He comes in and sits on the + bed. A knock—a determined knock—is heard at the door but Jean + does not move. The door opens and his landlady—a shrewish, sharp + faced woman of 40—appears. He gets up off the bed when he sees her + and bows. + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—I forgot you was deef or I wouldn't have wasted my time + hitting my knuckles against your door. + </p> + <p> + Jean gazes at her. + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—Well Mr. Rosen I guess you know why I'm here—it's + pay up today or get out. + </p> + <p> + Jean—Please write it down—you know I cannot hear a word you + say. I suppose it's about the rent. + </p> + <p> + The landlady takes paper and pencil and writes. + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—(Reading over the result of her labor)—"To-day—is—the—last + day. If you can't pay, you must get out." + </p> + <p> + She hands it to Jean and he reads. + </p> + <p> + Jean—But I cannot pay. Next week perhaps I shall get work— + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—(Scornfully)—Yes—Next week maybe I have to + sell another liberty bond for seventy dollars what I paid a hundred + dollars for, too. No sir I need the money NOW. Here— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She writes and hands it to him. +</pre> + <p> + Jean (Reading)—Sell my piano? But please I cannot do that—yet. + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—A lot of good a piano does a deef person like you. + That's a good one—( She laughs harshly). The deef musician—ho + ho—with a piano. + </p> + <p> + Jean—Madam, I shall pay you surely next week. There has been some + delay in my war risk insurance payment. I should think that you would + trust a soldier who lost his hearing in the trenches— + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—That's old stuff. You soldiers think just because you + were unlucky enough to get drafted you can spend the rest of your life + patting yourselves on the back. Besides—what good did the war do + anyway—except make a lot of rich people richer? + </p> + <p> + She scribbles emphatically "Either you pay up tonight or out you go." + </p> + <p> + Handing this to Jean with a flourish, she exits. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He sits on the bed for a long time. +</pre> + <p> + Finally he glances up at the wall over his bed where hangs a cheap photo + frame. In the center is a picture of President Wilson; on one side of this + is a crude print of a soldier, on the other side a sailor; above is the + inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + </p> + <p> + Jean takes down the picture and looks at it. As he replaces it on the wall + he sees hanging above it the bayonet which he had carried through the war. + He slowly takes the weapon down, runs his fingers along the edge and + smiles—a quiet tired smile which does not leave his face during the + rest of the scene. + </p> + <p> + He walks over to the piano and plays the opening chords of the Schumann + concerto. Then shaking his head sadly, he tenderly closes down the lid and + locks it. + </p> + <p> + He next writes a note which he folds and places, with the key to the + piano, in an envelope. Sealing and addressing the envelope, he places it + on the piano. Then, walking over to the bed, he picks up the bayonet, and + shutting his eyes for an instant, he steps forward and cuts his throat as + the curtain falls. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SCENE 3 + + Same as Act 1, Scene 1 except for the changes made in the city +street by a year or more of peace. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="236 (86K)" src="images/236.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + The arch across the thoroughfare still stands, although it has become + badly discolored and dirty; the inscription "For the Freedom of the World" + is but faintly visible. As the curtain rises workmen are busy at work + tearing the arch down. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter the Angel and the Professor's Son. +</pre> + <p> + The Angel—Stand over here, out of the way, and you'll see the last + of your cronies—Pat, the Streetcleaner's Son—enjoying the + gratitude of the world. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son does not answer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter Pat. He has on an old pair of corduroy trousers, with his +brown army shirt, and shoes out at the heel. +</pre> + <p> + He looks as if he had not slept for days certainly he has not shaved for a + week. He approaches one of the workmen. + </p> + <p> + Pat—Say buddy any chance for a job here? + </p> + <p> + The Workman—Hell no. They was fifty applicants yesterday. (Looking + at his army shirt) Most of them ex-soldiers like you. Jobs is mighty + scarce. + </p> + <p> + Pat—I'll tell the world they are. I'd almost join the army again, + except for my wife and kid. + </p> + <p> + The Workman—God—don't do it. + </p> + <p> + Pat—Why—was you across? + </p> + <p> + The Workman—Yes, God damn it—eight months. Next war I'll let + somebody else do the fighting. + </p> + <p> + Pat—Same here. The wise guys were them that stayed at home and kept + their jobs. + </p> + <p> + The Workman—I'll say they were. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Pat—(Growing more excited)—And while we was over there fighting, +nothing was too good for us—"brave boys," they said, "we shall never +forget what you have done for us." Never forget—hell! In about a year +everybody forgot there ever was a war and a fellow has a hell of a time +getting a job—and when you mention the war they just laugh—why God +damn it, I've been out of work for six months and I ain't no loafer +either and my wife has had to go back to her folks and I'm just about +all in— + + During this speech the work on dismantling the arch has steadily +progressed. Suddenly there comes a warning cry—"Look out"—as the +supports unexpectedly give way. Pat is too engrossed in his tirade to +take heed, and as the center portion of the arch falls it crushes him +beneath its weight. After the cloud of dust clears, he is seen lying +under the mass. By a curious twist of fate he has been crushed by the +portion of the arch bearing the inscription "For the Freedom of the +World." His eyes open for an instant—he reads, through the mist of +approaching death, the words, and he laughs— +</pre> + <p> + Pat—For the Freedom of the World—Oh Christ! + </p> + <p> + His mocking laughter is interrupted by a severe fit of coughing and he + sinks back dead. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—Oh God—take me somewhere where I can't + ever see the world. + </p> + <p> + The angel—Come to heaven. + </p> + <p> + CURTAIN <br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1478 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/1478-h/images/015.jpg b/1478-h/images/015.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..31d3d41 --- /dev/null +++ b/1478-h/images/015.jpg diff --git a/1478-h/images/016.jpg b/1478-h/images/016.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a839640 --- /dev/null +++ b/1478-h/images/016.jpg diff --git a/1478-h/images/046.jpg b/1478-h/images/046.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b2dcc8 --- /dev/null +++ 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8d1013 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1478 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1478) diff --git a/old/1478-h.zip b/old/1478-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0926593 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1478-h.zip diff --git a/old/1478-h/1478-h.htm b/old/1478-h/1478-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f50ddc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1478-h/1478-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4292 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Parody Outline of History, by Donald Ogden Stewart + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's A Parody Outline of History, by Donald Ogden Stewart + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Parody Outline of History + +Author: Donald Ogden Stewart + +Release Date: August 13, 2008 [EBook #1478] +Last Updated: November 17, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PARODY OUTLINE OF HISTORY *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="015 (107K)" src="images/015.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="016 (95K)" src="images/016.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A PARODY OUTLINE OF HISTORY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Donald Ogden Stewart + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wherein may be found a curiously irreverent treatment of + AMERICAN HISTORICAL EVENTS + Imagining them as they would be narrated + by American's most characteristic + contemporary authors + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To + + GILBERT HOLLAND STEWART, Jr. + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Preface + </h2> + <p> + Mr. H. G. Wells, in his "Outline of History," was of necessity forced to + omit the narration of many of the chief events in the history of these + United States. Such omissions I have in this brief volume endeavored to + supply. And as American history can possibly best be written by Americans + and as we have among us no H. G. Wells, I have imagined an American + history as written conjointly by a group of our most characteristic + literary figures. + </p> + <p> + Apologies are due the various authors whose style and, more particularly, + whose Weltanschauung I have here attempted to reproduce; thanks are due + The Bookman for permission to reprint such of these chapters as appeared + in that publication. I give both freely. D. O. S. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary=""> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> Preface </a> + </p> + <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE<br /> I INTRODUCTION: A Critical + Survey of American History In the Manner of <br /> William Lyon + Phelps <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO<br /> II CRISTOFER COLOMBO: A + Comedy of Discovery In the Manner of James <br /> Branch Cabell </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE<br /> III MAIN STREET: + Plymouth, Mass In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR<br /> IV THE COURTSHIP OF, + MILES STANDISH In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE<br /> V THE SPIRIT OF '75: + Letters of a Minute Man In the Manner of Ring <br /> Lardner <br /> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX<br /> VI THE WHISKY REBELLION In + the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. <br /> Burgess <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN<br /> VII HOW LOVE CAME TO + GENERAL GRANT In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT<br /> VIII CUSTER'S LAST STAND + In the Manner of Edith Wharton <br /> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE<br /> IX FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE + WORLD: A Drama of the Great War Act I—In the <br /> Manner of + Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews Act 2—In the Manner of Eugene + <br /> O'Neill <br /> </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <h3> + A CRITICAL SURVEY OF AMERICAN HISTORY + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of William Lyon Phelps + </p> + <p> + On a memorable evening in the year 1904 I witnessed the opening + performance of Maude Adams in "Peter Pan". Nothing in the world can + describe the tremendous enthusiasm of that night! I shall never forget the + moment when Peter came to the front of the stage and asked the audience if + we believed in fairies. I am happy to say that I was actually the first to + respond. Leaping at once out of my seat, I shouted "Yes—Yes!" To my + intense pleasure the whole house almost instantly followed my example, + with the exception of one man. This man was sitting directly in front of + me. His lack of enthusiasm was to me incredible. I pounded him on the back + and shouted, "Great God, man, are you alive! Wake up! Hurrah for the + fairies! Hurrah!" Finally he uttered a rather feeble "Hurrah!" Childe + Roland to the dark tower came. + </p> + <p> + That was my first meeting with that admirable statesman Woodrow Wilson, + and I am happy to state that from that night we became firm friends. When + Mr. Wilson was inaugurated in 1913 I called on him at the White House, + taking with me some members of my Yale drama class. Each one of us had an + edition of the president's admirable "History of the American People", and + I am glad to say that he was kind enough to autograph each of the ten + volumes for all of us. + </p> + <p> + Early in Mr. Wilson's second term as president, just before the break with + Germany, I was sitting in the quiet of my library rereading Browning's + "Cristina". When I came to the third stanza I leaped to my feet—the + thing seemed incredible, but here before my eyes was actually Browning's + prophetic message to America in regard to the submarine sinkings. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! But not so sunk that moments—etc." + It is an extraordinary evidence of the man's genius that in 1840 he should + have perhaps foreseen prophetically the happenings of seventy-six years + later! Not only did Browning seem to know what was bound to happen, but he + told us the remedy. I sat right down and wrote to my good friend the + president, enclosing a marked copy of the poem. On the sixth of April, + 1917, war was declared. + </p> + <p> + May 7, 1912, was the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of Robert + Browning. On that memorable date I was traveling to Ohio at the request of + my dear friend Miss Jones to deliver an address at the Columbus School for + Girls. Curiously enough the name of my Pullman car was Pauline. Not only + did that strike me as remarkable, but I occupied upper berth number 9 in + car 11, two numbers which, added together, produced the exact age at which + Browning published the poem of that name. At once I recited the opening + lines, "Pauline, mine own, bend o'er me—thy soft breast shall pant + to mine—bend o'er me," to the porter. + </p> + <p> + I like to believe that the spirit of Browning arranged that entire + journey, for the other occupant of this well-omened berth was that + admirable statesman Warren G. Harding. When I sat down I noticed that he + was reading Henry Sydnor Harrison's "Queed", a book which was justly + popular at that time. I at once showed Mr. Harding an article I had + written in which I stated that not only was "Queed" a real novel, with a + real plot, and real characters, but that I believed the readers were + stimulated by the spiritual advance of the hero. The future president + agreed with me and said he thought that literature was a great thing. + Encouraged by this I confessed that I was on my way to deliver a lecture + on modern poetry. Mr. Harding replied that he thought poetry was a great + thing. "Splendid!" I cried, and taking a copy of Browning from my bag I + read him several selections. Mr. Harding said that of the American poets + he liked James Whitcomb Riley best. Personally, while I have for Mr. Riley + only wonder and praise, I think that the English poet strikes a more + inspiring, more eternal note. + </p> + <p> + I then read to Mr. Harding Browning's "Evelyn Hope". He said that he knew + a Mrs. Walter Hope in Marion, but that he was not sure her first name was + Evelyn. As I knew that Mr. Harding liked a good pun, I remarked + facetiously that "hope springs eternal", meaning that probably there were + in existence several families of that name. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +I am happy to state that with that meeting began a friendship which +has lasted for many years. When Mr. Harding was nominated for the +presidency, I wrote at once, enclosing a copy of "The Advance of the +English Novel" which I had published in 1916. On the title-page I wrote, +"To the Hero of a Much More Spectacular Advance", meaning that the +progress made by the English novel was as nothing compared to Mr. +Harding's rapid and well-deserved rise. In reply I received the +following: + + 6 July, 1920. MY DEAR +PROFESSOR PHELPS: +</pre> + <p> + Many thanks to you for your congratulations and your kindness in sending + me your brilliant, searching essays which I hope to be able to read in the + near future. WARREN G. HARDING. + </p> + <p> + Just as I am always glad that I am an American, so I think we should all + believe whole-heartedly in the glorious future which lies ahead of us. We + should all pay high tribute to the ideals and sincerity of those great + leaders Woodrow Wilson and Warren Harding. What a pity that some people + believe that there is any antagonism or essential difference in the aims + of those two worthy men. Both are absolutely sincere—both try to + make the world a better, more happy place. And to the critic of history—as + to the critic of art and literature—those are the essential things. + Viewing the past and glimpsing the future of American history I cannot + help feeling that Browning had us perhaps unconsciously in mind when he + wrote: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + God's in his heaven: All's right with the world! +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter Two + </h2> + <p> + CRISTOFER COLOMBO A Comedy of Discovery. In the Manner of James Branch + Cabell + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In fourteen hundred ninety two In the city of Genoa. + —Old Song. +</pre> + <p> + They of Genoa tell with a shrug how in the old days Cristofer Colombo whom + men called the Dreamer left Dame Colombo to go in search of the land of + his imagining. + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells how, on a twilight Thursday, Colombo walked alone on + the edge of a doubtful wood, and viewed many things not salutary to + notice. And there came to him one who was as perversely tall as a certain + unmentionable object and bearded in a manner it is not convenient to + describe. + </p> + <p> + But Colombo set about that which the stranger said was necessary and when + he had finished he drank the contents of the curious skull as had been + foretold on a certain All-Saints day. Then it was that the stranger spoke. + </p> + <p> + "Whom are you", said he, "to be thus wandering in the very unspeakable + forest of the very unnamable sorcerer Thyrston?" + </p> + <p> + Said Colombo, "I have heard of this Thyrston. And while I do not + criticize, yet I cannot entirely agree with your improper use of the + pronoun WHOM, and oh my dear sir", said Colombo, "those two VERYS would + surely—oh, most surely—be mentioned in 'The Conning Tower'." + </p> + <p> + "Eh!" said Thyrston, frowning. + </p> + <p> + "I allude", said Colombo, "to the scribbling of a certain Adams with whom + you are doubtless familiar, and of course, my dear Thyrston", said + Colombo, "I spoke only jestingly, for I am Cristofer Colombo whom men call + the Dreamer, and I go in search of the land of my imagining and it is + truly a pleasure to meet the greatest sorcerer since Ckellyr, and how", + said Colombo, "is dear Mrs. Thyrston?" + </p> + <p> + Then Thyrston showed Colombo what was written on the insecure parchment. + It frightened Colombo a little, but he assented. And when the sorcerer had + borrowed a silk hat and a gold watch he caused the skies to darken and + Colombo saw that which men refuse to believe. + </p> + <p> + "But, oh, now really sir", said Colombo, "that is indeed extremely clever + and I do wish that the children were here to see it and would you mind, my + dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "doing that egg trick again?" + </p> + <p> + Then Thyrston showed Colombo that he had nothing up either sleeve and + after an interval he consented to teach Colombo the secret of his + conjuring. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="046 (85K)" src="images/046.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Why now to be sure", said Colombo, after he had thoroughly mastered the + trick, "that is indeed quite simple and I am sorry I broke those four eggs + by mistake in your silk hat, and while I do not wish to appear + oversensitive, do you not think, my dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "that + the trick would go just as well without those abominable jokes about + married life?" + </p> + <p> + "My dear sir", said Thyrston, "those jokes have been used by every + conjurer since Merlin, and while perhaps without them your trick would + work, yet I have never heard of it being done and I have found", said + Thyrston, "that in sorcery the best results are obtained by doing the + customary thing." + </p> + <p> + "Which only goes to show", said Colombo, "that sorcery is somewhat akin to + business, and now that I think of it", said Colombo, "I believe that the + term wizard of industry is perhaps not entirely a misnomer." + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Colombo took leave of Thyrston, and the tale tells how on + Walburga's Eve he came to the court of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabel. + And as he entered one met him who was not unpleasing to the eye, and she + was weeping. And, as it was somewhat dark, Colombo decided to comfort her. + </p> + <p> + "Now, do you tell me, my dear", said Colombo, after an interval, "why it + is you weep, for I am Colombo whom men call the Dreamer, and I go in + search of the land of my imagining, and I think", said Colombo, "that you + have most remarkably lovely eyes." + </p> + <p> + "Oh messire", said the lady, "I weep because it is this evening that I am + to entertain the ladies of our Progress Literary Club, and Donna Margarita + whom men call the Spanish Omelet, but who really, messire, has a lovely + voice, was going to sing 'The Rosary' and now she has a cold and cannot + sing, and King Ferdinand is coming, and oh, messire, what", said the lady, + "shall I do?" + </p> + <p> + "Why now, truly", said Colombo, "in Genoa it was the judgment of all the + really musically intelligent ladies, except perhaps my wife, that I sang + not an unpleasing baritone, and while I do not know the song to which you + refer, yet I have devoted most of my life to the composition of a poem + concerning the land of my imagining which might well be sung and besides + that", said Colombo, "I can do a most remarkable egg trick." + </p> + <p> + So it was that Colombo became for a short time not undeservedly the life + of the Progress Literary Club party. And the tale tells how, after a paper + by Donna Violet Balboa on "Spanish Architecture—Then and Now", + Colombo sang to them the song of the land of Colombo's imagining. And + poignantly beautiful was the song, for in it was the beauty of a poet's + dream, and the eternal loveliness of that vision which men have glimpsed + in all ages if ever so faintly. And when he had finished, the eyes of + Colombo were wet with tears, for into this poem had he woven the dreams of + his disillusionment. And somewhat ironical to Colombo was the applause of + those fine ladies who did not at all understand. + </p> + <p> + "Now that is a pretty song", said King Ferdinand, "and do you tell us, + Colombo, how one may get to this land, so that I may extend the borders of + my most Catholic Kingdom and spread the teachings of the true faith, for + to bring the world under the blessed influence of my religion is my only + purpose, and really now", said King Ferdinand, "is there as much gold + there as you describe?" + </p> + <p> + "Ah, King Ferdinand", replied Colombo, "there is more gold than ever I can + tell, and I see only too plainly how grievously you suffer to think that + perhaps these people are living in ignorance of the true faith. And I + could ask nothing better than that King Ferdinand give me ships in which I + may sail to the westward and come at last to the land of my imagining. + This I would do in order that the blessed soldiers of King Ferdinand who + will follow me may show to the inhabitants of my discovered land the + grievous errors of their ways and bring them at last to a realization of + the true faith which has been so helpful to our own dear Spain, and", + added Colombo, "our gracious sovereign Ferdinand." + </p> + <p> + And droll it was to Colombo to think what might possibly happen were King + Ferdinand to take his dream seriously or were the King perhaps to be + informed as to the true meaning of Colombo's subtleties. + </p> + <p> + "Well, now", said King Ferdinand, "of course, to fit out such an + expedition would require great expense, my dear Colombo—great + expense. And, of course, you know, Colombo, that when investors can buy + Inquisition 4 1/4's for 89 it would be extremely difficult to raise the + money for such a speculative project—oh, extremely difficult. And + then you must consider the present depression—tell me now, Colombo", + said King Ferdinand, "how long do you think this depression will last, for + I seek, above all things, a return to healthy normalcy." + </p> + <p> + "Well, truly", replied Colombo, "that would be most difficult to say. I + note that on Rodigruez Babsyn's last chart—" + </p> + <p> + "I wish this Babsyn and his charts were in hell", said King Ferdinand, + "for it was he who advised me to sell Queen Isabel's silver holdings. But + it occurs to me, Colombo, that in connection with this land-of-gold scheme + of yours, you mentioned something about sailing to the westward. Now + Colombo, that would be a distinct disadvantage when it came to marketing + the bonds, for as you must already know, one cannot sail to the west + without encountering fierce and enormous monsters who swallow, I am told, + whole ships at a gulp." + </p> + <p> + "Now as to that", said Colombo, somewhat embarrassed at the turn of the + conversation for WEST had merely happened to better suit the rhymes of his + poem, "you may be right, and I should not go so far as to say you are + wrong, but still at the same time", said Colombo, "is there any gentleman + in the audience who can lend me an egg and a silk hat?" + </p> + <p> + And when an unmentionable egg and a doubtful silk hat had been produced in + a manner which it is not convenient to mention Colombo rolled up both his + sleeves and spoke the magic speech as he had learned it on a certain + Thursday from the sorcerer Thyrston. + </p> + <p> + "Ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I have here a common household egg + which I shall now ask the ushers to pass among you so you may see for + yourself that there are no wires or strings attached. While this is being + done, ladies and gentlemen, I wish that three of you would step up on the + stage. Any three—don't be bashful girls—I won't hurt you. + Won't that couple over there kindly oblige me—that married couple—no, + folks, I guess they aren't married either—they look too happy." + </p> + <p> + Very painful it was to Colombo to hear these horrible jokes coming from + his mouth, but Thyrston had quoted the authority of all successful + sorcerers and not for anything would Colombo have had his trick a failure. + </p> + <p> + "Now ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I am going to ask this lady and + these two gentlemen if they will be so good as to see if they can take + this little egg and make it stand on end without any support." + </p> + <p> + And very droll it was to see the unsuccessful attempts which the three + made. Finally Colombo said: + </p> + <p> + "Now ladies and gentlemen, I want you to watch me closely. I put the silk + hat on my head—thus. And I take the egg in my right hand—thus. + Now, if this young lady will be kind enough to hold my left hand—I + hope that her best fellow doesn't mind letting such a pretty girl hold my + hand—it's lucky my wife can't see me, though—a friend said to + me the other day, 'Who was that lady I seen you with?' and I said, 'That + wasn't no lady, that was my wife'. Now ladies and gentlemen I take this + egg, and in order to make it stand upright I tap one end gently—thus + against the table until that end is flattened—and then, presto—the + egg stands upright. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you one and all for your + kind attention." + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Colombo impressed King Ferdinand and his court with his + profound knowledge of geography. Next the tale tells how there came to + Colombo on Michaelmas Eve one sent by Queen Isabel, And when Colombo had + buckled on his sword Impavide he followed the messenger through winding + corridors and came at last to the chamber of the Queen. And as he knelt + before her it seemed to Colombo that never before had he seen such + unforgettable beauty as shone in the eyes of Queen Isabel. Yes, truly, + this was the loveliest girl that Colombo had ever imagined. + </p> + <p> + "Now do you rise", said she, "and you and I shall have a nice chat alone + here together, and you can tell me all about geography of which I am oh, + frightfully ignorant. In truth", said she, "I have tried to get Ferdinand + to instruct me, but I fear", said Queen Isabel, "that Ferdinand does not + understand me." + </p> + <p> + So Colombo instructed Queen Isabel in the fundamentals of geography. And + after a while he spoke. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="052 (66K)" src="images/052.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Now many people", said Colombo, "believe that the earth is flat, but", + said Colombo, "such is not at all the case." + </p> + <p> + And after an interval Colombo said, "There, my dear, do you not see how + ridiculous it is to suppose that the earth is anything but round?" + </p> + <p> + "Why surely, sire", said Queen Isabel, "you make it appear very round. And + I wonder that I had not thought of that before. And I think", said Queen + Isabel, "that geography is a most fascinating subject and oh, messire + Colombo", said the Queen, "you must come and instruct me often." + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Colombo became Royal Geographer. And the tale tells how + after a while various whisperings came to King Ferdinand of his queen's + curious enthusiasm for study. + </p> + <p> + "Now about this geography", said King Ferdinand one evening to the Queen, + "I am, my dear, indeed glad to see you take an interest in such an + important study and I have arranged", said the King, "to have your + tutoring in the future done by Father Bernadino who has had fifty-two + years' experience at the University, and your lessons", said the King, + "will commence tomorrow." + </p> + <p> + Said the Queen, "How can I thank you enough, dear Ferdinand, for your + untiring interest in my welfare. For I have been struggling along in my + study of geography with a horribly dull clod whose name", said the Queen, + "I cannot remember." + </p> + <p> + "Was it, by any chance, Colombo?" asked the King. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps", said the Queen. "But I am oh so glad to be rid of him." And + indeed so great was the happiness of Queen Isabel that her pillow that + night was wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + But King Ferdinand was an unusually efficient king, and he spared no pains + in his craving for normalcy. So it was that the next day he called to him + the man who had chanced to be Royal Geographer before the coup d'oeuf of + Colombo. + </p> + <p> + "Now tell me", said the King, "is there any chance that a man who sails to + the westward will ever return?" + </p> + <p> + "None, your Majesty", said the ex-Royal Geographer. "For many have tried + and horrible are the tales which they tell of demons and monsters lying in + wait for the ships of men. And I should say definitely, oh King", said he, + "that whoever sails to the westward will never return." + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells how that afternoon Colombo stood before King Ferdinand. + And very strange to Colombo was the enthusiasm which burned in the King's + otherwise somewhat fishlike eye. + </p> + <p> + "For know you, Colombo", the King was saying, "that God has spoken to me + and commanded me to save from the fires of hell the inhabitants of those + golden lands of which you sang. And to you, my dear Colombo, is to be + given the chance which you so ardently desire. For I have this day + purchased three ships which await your command, and within a week you + should be well on your way on this glorious mission for God and for Spain, + and", said the King, "I might add that the Queen, too, is much interested + in this voyage and has even been persuaded to dispose of her jewels in + order that you may make haste." + </p> + <p> + "Such instant obedience to the will of God", said Colombo, "and such fine + enthusiasm to further His kingdom on earth, does your Majesties great + credit. And I shall indeed congratulate the inhabitants of this + to-be-discovered land for their good fortune in obtaining such a devout + King." + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells how that night Colombo took leave of Queen Isabel. "Now + do not weep, oh Queen", said he, "for I am only Colombo whom men call the + Dreamer, and I go in search of the land of my imagining, and perhaps", + said Colombo, "I shall return." But they tell how Queen Isabel refused to + be comforted for many and many a day. And unexplainably curious to Father + Bernadino was his absolute and complete failure as a royal instructor in + geography, for Father Bernadino had taught for fifty-two years at the + University. + </p> + <p> + And so it was that Colombo sat alone in the cabin of the ship which + carried him towards the land of his imagining. And strange and somewhat + fearsome it was to the sailors to see their captain sitting thus + motionless night after night, for already had they left the Canaries far + behind and some there were who said that a madman commanded their ship, + and others who whispered of horrible monsters in these western seas. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="056 (46K)" src="images/056.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells how one night Colombo observed across his table one who + had not been sitting there a moment before and whose hair was strangely + red. + </p> + <p> + "Well now, truly, sir", said Colombo, "This is very curious. For I do not + remember seeing you among the crew nor were you ever at the court, and on + the whole", said Colombo, "your red hair and your sneering grin interrupt + my dreams, and dreams", said Colombo, "are all that I have left." + </p> + <p> + "For know you, sir", continued he to the stranger who did not speak, "that + on this earth man has been able to endure only by playing the ape to his + dreams. And in every generation", said Colombo, "there have been those who + dreamed of beautiful things and in every age there have been those who + caught some glimpse of that perfect beauty which the Greeks call Helen, + and to have seen Helen", said Colombo, "is to have been touched with + divine and unbearable madness." + </p> + <p> + And it became strangely quiet in the cabin as Colombo continued: + </p> + <p> + "And those authors who wrote perfectly of beautiful dreams", said he, + "will, perchance, endure, and those who saw only men as they are, will + perish—for so has it been in the past and so will it be in the + future. All of which", said Colombo, "is a rather tiresome and pedantic + excuse for the fact that I am about to read you my own poem." + </p> + <p> + And Colombo read to the stranger the dream of the land of Colombo's + imagining, and when he had finished the stranger smiled and shook his head + sadly. + </p> + <p> + "Come, now," said Colombo, somewhat hurt. "Do not, I pray you, pretend to + like it unless you really do. Of course it is not at all the kind of thing + that will sell, is it—and the metre must be patched up in places, + don't you think? And some of the most beautiful passages would never be + permitted by the censor—but still—" and Colombo paused + hopefully, for it was Colombo's poem and into it he had poured the heart + of his life and it seemed to him now, more than ever, a beautiful thing. + </p> + <p> + The stranger handed Colombo a book. + </p> + <p> + "There", said he, "is the land of your imagining", and in his eyes gleamed + a curious sardonic mockery. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="062 (108K)" src="images/062.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + And Colombo read the book. And when he had finished his face was grey as + are old ashes in ancient urns, and about the mouth of him whom men called + the Dreamer were curious hard lines. + </p> + <p> + "Now, by Heaven", said Colombo brandishing his sword Impavide, "you lie. + And your Gopher Prairie is a lie. And you are all, all contemptible, you + who dip your pens in tracing ink and seek to banish beautiful dreams from + the world." + </p> + <p> + But the red-haired stranger had vanished and Colombo found that he was + alone and to Colombo the world seemed cheerless and as a place that none + has lived in for a long time. + </p> + <p> + "Now this is curious", mused Colombo, "for I have evidently been dreaming + and a more horrible dream have I never had, and I think", said Colombo, + "that while all this quite certainly did not actually take place, yet that + grinning red head has upset me horribly and on the whole", said Colombo, + "I believe the safest course would be to put back at once for Spain, for + certainly I have no desire to take the remotest chance of discovering + anything which may in the least resemble that Gopher Prairie." + </p> + <p> + And the tale tells that as Colombo started for the deck in order that he + might give the signal for the return to Spain, there came across the water + from one of the other ships the faint cry of a sailor. And the sailor was + waving his hat and shouting, "Land Ho!" + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that Cristofer Colombo became the discoverer of the land of + his imagining, and as he stood on the deck Colombo mused. + </p> + <p> + "Now this is a sorrowful jest and a very unfair jest that is happening," + said he. "For I who have dreamed a beautiful dream of the land of my + imagining will quite probably henceforth be known only as the discoverer + of what will turn out to be merely one more hideous and stupid country." + And tears came to the eyes of Colombo, for on the waves behind him floated + the torn and scattered pages of the poem which sang the imagined vision of + Beauty of him whom men long and long ago called the Dreamer. + </p> + <p> + Thus it was in the old days. + </p> + <p> + ANALYSIS AND SUMMARY OF THE FOREGOING ARTICLE In the Manner of Dr. Frank + Crane + </p> + <p> + There is a lesson for us all in this beautiful story of how Columbus + realized his ambition to be a great discoverer. + </p> + <p> + Men called Columbus a Dreamer—but that is just what folks once said + about Thomas A. Edison and Henry Ford. + </p> + <p> + The world has a place for Dreamers—if they are Practical Dreamers. + </p> + <p> + Columbus was ambitious. Ambition is a great thing if it is unselfish + ambition. By unselfish I mean for the greatest good of the greatest + number. Shakespeare, the great teacher, shows us in "Macbeth" what happens + to the selfishly ambitious man. + </p> + <p> + Columbus got ahead by paying attention to small details. Whatever he did, + he did to the best of his ability. Even when engaged in teaching geography + to the Queen, Columbus was the best geography teacher he knew how to be. + And before long he was made Royal Geographer. + </p> + <p> + In our daily lives let us all resolve to be good teachers of geography. We + may not all become Royal Geographers—but there will be to us the + lasting satisfaction of having done our best. And that, as a greater than + I has said, is "more precious than rubies—yea, than much fine gold". + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter Three + </h2> + <h3> + MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass. + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis + </p> + <p> + I 1620. + </p> + <p> + Late autumn. + </p> + <p> + The sour liver-colored shores of America. + </p> + <p> + Breaking waves dashing too high on a stern and rockbound coast. + </p> + <p> + Woods tossing giant branches planlessly against a stormy sky. + </p> + <p> + Cape Cod Bay—wet and full of codfish. The codfish—wet and full + of bones. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="070 (63K)" src="images/070.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Standing on the deck of the anchored "Mayflower", gazing reflectively at + the shores of the new world, is Priscilla Kennicott. + </p> + <p> + A youthful bride on a ship full of pilgrims; a lily floating in a dish of + prunes; a cloissone vase in a cargo of oil cans. + </p> + <p> + Her husband joins her. Together they go forward to where their fellow + pilgrims are preparing to embark in small boats. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla jumps into the bow of the first of these to shove off. + </p> + <p> + As the small craft bumps the shore, Priscilla rises joyously. She + stretches her hands in ecstasy toward the new world. She leans forward + against the breeze, her whole figure alive with the joy of expectant + youth. + </p> + <p> + She leaps with an irrepressible "Yippee" from the boat to the shore. + </p> + <p> + She remains for an instant, a vibrant pagan, drunk with the joy of life; + Pan poised for an unforgettable moment on Plymouth Rock. + </p> + <p> + The next minute her foot slips on the hard, wet, unyielding stone. She + clutches desperately. She slides slowly back into the cold chill saltness + of Cape Cod Bay. + </p> + <p> + She is pulled, dripping and ashamed, into the boat. She crouches there, + shivering and hopeless. She hears someone whisper, "Pride goeth before + destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." + </p> + <p> + A coarse mirthless chuckle. + </p> + <p> + The pilgrims disembark. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + Plymouth. + </p> + <p> + A year later. + </p> + <p> + Night. + </p> + <p> + She lay sleepless on her bed. + </p> + <p> + She heard the outside door open; Kennicott returning from prayer meeting. + </p> + <p> + He sat down on the bed and began pulling off his boots. She knew that the + left boot would stick. She knew exactly what he would say and how long it + would take him to get it off. She rolled over in bed, a tactical movement + which left no blanket for her husband. + </p> + <p> + "You weren't at prayer meeting," he said. + </p> + <p> + "I had a headache," she lied. He expressed no sympathy. + </p> + <p> + "Miles Standish was telling me what you did today at the meeting of the + Jolly Seventeen." He had got the boot off at last; he lay down beside her + and pulled all the blankets off her onto himself. + </p> + <p> + "That was kind of Miles." She jerked at the covers but he held them tight. + "What charming story did he tell this time?" + </p> + <p> + "Now look here, Prissie—Miles Standish isn't given to fabrication. + He said you told the Jolly Seventeen that next Thanksgiving they ought to + give a dance instead of an all-day prayer service." + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="074 (99K)" src="images/074.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Well—anything else?" She gave a tremendous tug at the bedclothes + and Kennicott was uncovered again. + </p> + <p> + "He said you suggested that they arrange a series of lectures on modern + religions, and invite Quakers and other radicals to speak right here in + Plymouth and tell us all about their beliefs. And not only that but he + said you suggested sending a message to the Roman Catholic exiles from + England, inviting them to make their home with us. You must have made + quite a little speech." + </p> + <p> + "Well this is the land of religious freedom, isn't it? That's what you + came here for, didn't you?" She sat up to deliver this remark—a + movement which enabled Kennicott to win back seven-eighths of the bed + covering. + </p> + <p> + "Now look here Prissie—I'm not narrow like some of these pilgrims + who came over with us. But I won't have my wife intimating that a Roman + Catholic or a Quaker should be allowed to spread his heresies broadcast in + this country. It's all right for you and me to know something about those + things, but we must protect our children and those who have not had our + advantages. The only way to meet this evil is to stamp it out, quick, + before it can get a start. And it's just such so-called broadminded + thinkers as you that encourage these heretics. You'll be criticizing the + Bible next, I suppose." + </p> + <p> + Thus in early times did the pious Right Thinkers save the land from + Hellfire and Damnation; thus the great-grandfathers of middle-western + congressmen; thus the ancestors of platitudinous editorial writers, + Sitters on Committees, and tin-horn prohibitionists. + </p> + <p> + Kennicott got up to cool his wrath and indignation with a drink of water. + He stumbled over a chair, reached for the jug, took a drink, set the jug + down, stumbled over the same chair, and crawled back into bed. His + expedition cost him the loss of all bed covering; he gave up the fight. + </p> + <p> + "Aside from dragging my own private views over the coals of your + righteousness, did you and your friends find anything equally pleasant and + self-satisfying to discuss this evening?" + </p> + <p> + "Eh—what's that? Why, yes, we did. We decided to refuse permission + for one of these traveling medicine shows to operate in Plymouth." + </p> + <p> + "Medicine shows?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes—you know—like a fair in England. This one claims to come + from down south somewhere. 'Smart Set Medicine Show' it's called, run by a + fellow named Mencken. Sells cheap whisky to the Indians—makes them + crazy, they say. He's another one of your radical friends we don't want + around." + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="080 (100K)" src="images/080.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Yes, he might cut in on your own trading with the Indians." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, for heaven's sake, Prissie—hire a hall." + </p> + <p> + Silence. He began to snore. + </p> + <p> + She lay there, sleepless and open-eyed. The clock struck eleven. + </p> + <p> + "Why can't I get to sleep?" + </p> + <p> + ("Did Will put the cat out?") + </p> + <p> + "I wonder what this medicine show is like?" + </p> + <p> + "What is the matter with these people?" + </p> + <p> + ("Or is it me?") + </p> + <p> + She reached down, pulled the blankets from under her, spread them + carefully over the sleeping Kennicott, patting them down affectionately. + </p> + <p> + The next day she learned what the medicine show was like. She also learned + what was the matter with the pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + III + </p> + <p> + Morning. + </p> + <p> + A fog horn. + </p> + <p> + A fog horn blowing unceasingly. + </p> + <p> + At breakfast Kennicott pointed with his fork in the direction of the + persistent sound. + </p> + <p> + "There's your Smart Set medicine show," he said glumly. "He doesn't seem + to care much whether we give him a permit or not." Then, a minute later, + "We'll have to let him stay. Won't do to have the Indians down on us. But + I tell you this, Priscilla, I don't want you to go." + </p> + <p> + "But Will—" + </p> + <p> + "Prissie, please! I'm sorry I said what I did last night. I was tired. But + don't you see, well, I can't just exactly explain—but this fog horn + sort of scares me—I don't like it—" + </p> + <p> + He suddenly rose and put both hands on her shoulders. He looked into her + eyes. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He picked up his hat + and was gone. It was five minutes before Priscilla noticed that his + breakfast had been left untouched. + </p> + <p> + A fog horn, sounding unceasingly. + </p> + <p> + She listlessly put away the breakfast dishes. She tried to drown out the + sound by singing hymns. She fell on her knees and tried to pray. She found + her prayers keeping time to the rise and fall of the notes of that horn. + She determined to go out in the air—to find her husband—to go + to church, anywhere—as far as possible from the Smart Set medicine + show. + </p> + <p> + So she went out the back door and ran as fast as she could toward the + place from which came the sound of the fog horn. + </p> + <p> + IV + </p> + <p> + An open space on the edge of the forest. + </p> + <p> + In the centre of the clearing a small gaudily-painted tent. + </p> + <p> + Seated on the ground in a semicircle before the tent, some forty or fifty + Indians. + </p> + <p> + Standing on a box before the entrance to the tent, a man of twenty-five or + fifty. + </p> + <p> + In his left hand he holds a fog horn; in his right, a stein of beer. + </p> + <p> + He puts the horn to his lips and blows heavy blast. + </p> + <p> + He bellows, "Beauty—Beauty—Beauty!" + </p> + <p> + He takes a drink of beer. + </p> + <p> + He repeats this performance nine times. + </p> + <p> + He takes up some mud and deftly models the features of several well-known + characters—statesmen, writers, critics. In many cases the + resemblance is so slight that Priscilla can hardly recognize the + character. + </p> + <p> + He picks up a heavy club and proceeds to beat each one of his modeled + figures into a pulp. + </p> + <p> + The Indians applaud wildly. + </p> + <p> + He pays no attention to this applause. + </p> + <p> + He clears his throat and begins to speak. Priscilla is so deafened by the + roar of his voice that she cannot hear what he says. Apparently he is + introducing somebody; somebody named George. + </p> + <p> + George steps out of the tent, but does not bow to the audience. In one + hand he carries a fencing foil, well constructed, of European workmanship; + in his other hand he holds a number of pretty toy balloons which he has + made himself. + </p> + <p> + He smiles sarcastically, tosses the balloons into the air, and cleverly + punctures them one by one with his rapier. + </p> + <p> + At each "pop" the announcer blows a loud blast on the fog horn. + </p> + <p> + When the last balloon has been punctured George retires without + acknowledging the applause of the Indians. + </p> + <p> + The next act is announced as Helen of Troy in "Six Minutes of Beauty". + Priscilla learns from the announcer that "this little lady is out of + 'Irony' by Theodore Dreiser". + </p> + <p> + "All ready, Helen—" + </p> + <p> + The "little lady" appears. + </p> + <p> + She is somewhat over six feet six in height and built like a boilermaker. + She is dressed in pink tights. + </p> + <p> + "Six Minutes of Beauty" begins when Helen picks up three large iron cannon + balls and juggles them. She tosses them in the air and catches them + cleverly on the back of her neck. + </p> + <p> + The six minutes are brought to a successful conclusion when Helen, hanging + head downward by one foot from a trapeze, balances lighted lamp on the + other foot and plays Beethoven's Fifth Symphony on the slide trombone. + </p> + <p> + The announcer then begins his lecture. Priscilla has by this time gotten + used to the overpowering roar of his voice and she discovers that once + this difficulty is overcome she is tremendously impressed by his words. + </p> + <p> + She becomes more and more attracted to the man. She listens, fascinated, + as his lecture draws to a close and he offers his medicine for sale. She + presses forward through the crowd of Indians surrounding the stand. She + reaches the tent. She gives her coin and receives in return a bottle. She + hides it in her cape and hurries home. + </p> + <p> + She slips in the back way; she pours some of the medicine into a glass; + she drinks it. + </p> + <p> + V + </p> + <p> + A terrible overwhelming nausea. Vomiting, which lasts for agonizing + minutes, leaving her helpless on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Then cessation. + </p> + <p> + Then light—blinding light. + </p> + <p> + VI + </p> + <p> + At 3:10 Priscilla drank the Mencken medicine; at 3:12 she was lying in + agony on the floor; at 3:20 she opened her eyes; at 3:21 she walked out of + her front door; and at 3:22 she discovered what was wrong with Plymouth + and the pilgrims. + </p> + <p> + Main Street. Straight and narrow. A Puritan thoroughfare in a Puritan + town. + </p> + <p> + The church. A centre of Puritan worship. The shrine of a narrow theology + which persistently repressed beauty and joy and life. + </p> + <p> + The Miles Standish house. The house of a Puritan. A squat, unlovely symbol + of repression. Beauty crushed by Morality. + </p> + <p> + Plymouth Rock. Hard, unyielding—like the Puritan moral code. A huge + tombstone on the grave of Pan. + </p> + <p> + She fled home. She flung herself, sobbing, on the bed. She cried, "They're + all Puritans that's what they are, Puritans!" + </p> + <p> + After a while she slept, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating + unnaturally. + </p> + <p> + VII + </p> + <p> + Late that night. + </p> + <p> + She opened her eyes; she heard men's voices; she felt her heart still + pounding within her at an alarming rate. + </p> + <p> + "And I told them then that it would come to no good end. Truly, the Lord + does not countenance such joking." + </p> + <p> + She recognized the voices of Miles Standish and Elder Brewster. + </p> + <p> + "Well—what happened then?" This from Kennicott. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you see, Henry Haydock got some of this Mencken's medicine from one + of the Indians. And he thought it would be a good joke to put it in the + broth at the church supper this evening." + </p> + <p> + "Yes?" + </p> + <p> + "Well—he did it, the fool. And when the broth was served, hell on + earth broke loose. Everyone started calling his neighbor a Puritan, and + cursing him for having banished Beauty from the earth. The Lord knows what + they meant by that; I don't. Old friends fought like wildcats, shrieking + 'Puritan' at each other. Luckily it only got to one table—but there + are ten raving lunatics in the lockup tonight. + </p> + <p> + "It's an awful thing. But thanks to the Lord, some good has come out of + this evil: that medicine man, Mencken, was standing outside looking in at + the rumpus, smiling to himself I guess. Well, somebody saw him and yelled, + 'There's another of those damned Puritans!' and before he could get away + five of them had jumped on him and beaten him to death. He deserved it, + and it's a good joke on him that they killed him for being a Puritan." + </p> + <p> + Priscilla could stand no more. She rose from her bed, rushed into the + room, and faced the three Puritans. In the voice of Priscilla Kennicott + but with the words of the medicine man she scourged them. + </p> + <p> + "A good joke?" she began. "And that is what you Puritan gentlemen of God + and volcanoes of Correct Thought snuffle over as a good joke? Well, with + the highest respect to Professor Doctor Miles Standish, the Puritan + Hearse-hound, and Professor Doctor Elder Brewster, the Plymouth Dr. Frank + Crane—BLAA!" + </p> + <p> + She shrieked this last in their faces and fell lifeless at their feet. + </p> + <p> + She never recovered consciousness; an hour later she died. An overdose of + the medicine had been too much for her weak heart. + </p> + <p> + "Poor William," comforted Elder Brewster, "you must be brave. You will + miss her sorely. But console yourself with the thought that it was for the + best. Priscilla has gone where she will always be happy. She has at last + found that bliss which she searched for in vain on earth." + </p> + <p> + "Yes William," added Miles Standish. "Priscilla has now found eternal + joy." + </p> + <p> + VIII + </p> + <p> + Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Smug saints with ill-fitting halos and imitation wings, singing + meaningless hymns which Priscilla had heard countless times before. + </p> + <p> + Sleek prosaic angels flying aimlessly around playing stale songs on sickly + yellow harps. + </p> + <p> + Three of the harps badly out of tune; two strings missing on another. + </p> + <p> + Moses, a Jew. + </p> + <p> + Methuselah, another Jew. Old and unshaven. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla threw herself on a cloud, sobbing. + </p> + <p> + "Well, sister, what seems to be the matter here?" + </p> + <p> + She looked up; she saw a sympathetic stranger looking down at her. + </p> + <p> + "Because you know, sister," he went on, "if you don't like it here you can + always go back any time you want to." + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean to say," gasped Priscilla, "that I can return to earth?" + </p> + <p> + "You certainly can," said the stranger. "I'm sort of manager here, and + whenever you see any particular part of the earth you'd like to live in, + you just let me know and I'll arrange it." + </p> + <p> + He smiled and was gone. + </p> + <p> + IX + </p> + <p> + It was two hundred years before Priscilla Kennicott definitely decided + that she could stand it no longer in heaven; it was another hundred years + before she located a desirable place on earth to return to. + </p> + <p> + She finally selected a small town in the American northwest, far from the + Puritan-tainted Plymouth; a small town in the midst of fields of beautiful + waving grain; a small town free from the artificiality of large cities; a + small town named Gopher Prairie. + </p> + <p> + She made known her desire to the manager; she said goodby to a small group + of friends who had gathered to see her off; she heard the sound of the + eternal harp playing and hymn singing grow gradually fainter and fainter; + she closed her eyes. + </p> + <p> + When she opened them again she found herself on Main Street in Gopher + Prairie. + </p> + <p> + X + </p> + <p> + From the "Heavenly Harp and Trumpet": + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Priscilla Kennicott, one of our most popular angels, left these parts + last Tuesday for an extended visit to the Earth. Mrs. K. confided to Ye + Editor that she would probably take up her residence in Gopher Prairie, + Minn., under the name of Carol Kennicott. The "Harp and Trumpet" + felicitates the citizens of Gopher Prairie on their acquisition of a + charming and up-to-date young matron whose absence will be keenly + regretted by her many friends in the heavenly younger married set. Good + luck, Priscilla! + </p> + <p> + XI + </p> + <p> + Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Five years later. + </p> + <p> + The monthly meeting of the Celestial Browning Club. + </p> + <p> + Seated in the chair reserved for the guest of honor, the manager. + </p> + <p> + The meeting opens as usual with a reading by Brother Robert Browning of + his poem "Pippa Passes"; as he proclaims that "God's in his heaven, all's + right with the world", the members applaud and the manager rises and bows. + </p> + <p> + The chairman announces that "today we take up a subject in which I am sure + we are all extremely interested—the popular literature of the United + States". + </p> + <p> + The members listen to selected extracts from the writings of Gene + Stratton-Porter, Zane Grey, and Harold Bell Wright; at the conclusion they + applaud and the manager again bows. + </p> + <p> + "I am sure", says the chairman, "that we are all glad to hear that things + are going so nicely in the United States." (Applause.) "And now, in + conclusion, Brother Voltaire has requested permission to address us for a + few minutes, and I am sure that anything Brother Voltaire has to say will + be eminently worthwhile." + </p> + <p> + Brother Voltaire rises and announces that he has listened with interest to + the discussion of American literature; that he, too, rejoices that all is + well in this best of all possible United States; and that he hopes they + will pardon him if he supplements the program by reading a few extracts + from another extremely popular American book recently published under the + name of "Main Street". + </p> + <p> + XII + </p> + <p> + At the next meeting of the Celestial Browning Club it was unanimously + voted that the privileges of the club be denied Brother Voltaire for the + period of one year, and that the name of Priscilla Kennicott be stricken + from the list of non-resident members of heaven. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <h3> + THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald + </p> + <p> + This story occurs under the blue skies and bluer laws of Puritan New + England, in the days when religion was still taken seriously by a great + many people, and in the town of Plymouth where the "Mayflower", having + ploughed its platitudinous way from Holland, had landed its precious cargo + of pious Right Thinkers, moral Gentlemen of God, and—Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + Priscilla was—well, Priscilla had yellow hair. In a later + generation, in a 1921 June, if she had toddled by at a country club dance + you would have noticed first of all that glorious mass of bobbed + corn-colored locks. You would, then, perhaps, have glanced idly at her + face, and suddenly said "Oh my gosh!" The next moment you would have + clutched the nearest stag and hissed, "Quick—yellow hair—silver + dress—oh Judas!" You would then have been introduced, and after + dancing nine feet you would have been cut in on by another panting stag. + In those nine delirious feet you would have become completely dazed by one + of the smoothest lines since the building of the Southern Pacific. You + would then have borrowed somebody's flask, gone into the locker room and + gotten an edge—not a bachelor-dinner edge but just enough to give + you the proper amount of confidence. You would have returned to the + ballroom, cut in on this twentieth century Priscilla, and taken her and + your edge out to a convenient limousine, or the first tee. + </p> + <p> + It was of some such yellow-haired Priscilla that Homer dreamed when he + smote his lyre and chanted, "I sing of arms and the man"; it was at the + sight of such as she that rare Ben Johnson's Dr. Faustus cried, "Was this + the face that launched a thousand ships?" In all ages has such beauty + enchanted the minds of men, calling forth in one century the Fiesolian + terza rima of "Paradise Lost", in another the passionate arias of a dozen + Beethoven symphonies. In 1620 the pagan daughter of Helen of Troy and + Cleopatra of the Nile happened, by a characteristic jest of the great + Ironist, to embark with her aunt on the "Mayflower". + </p> + <p> + Like all girls of eighteen Priscilla had learned to kiss and be kissed on + every possible occasion; in the exotic and not at all uncommon pleasure of + "petting" she had acquired infinite wisdom and complete disillusionment. + But in all her "petting parties" on the "Mayflower" and in Plymouth she + had found no Puritan who held her interest beyond the first kiss, and she + had lately reverted in sheer boredom to her boarding school habit of + drinking gin in large quantities, a habit which was not entirely approved + of by her old-fashioned aunt, although Mrs. Brewster was glad to have her + niece stay at home in the evenings "instead", as she told Mrs. Bradford, + "of running around with those boys, and really, my dear, Priscilla says + some of the FUNNIEST things when she gets a little er—'boiled', as + she calls it—you must come over some evening, and bring the + governor." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster, Priscilla's aunt, is the ancestor of all New England aunts. + She may be seen today walking down Tremont Street, Boston, in her Educator + shoes on her way to S. S. Pierce's which she pronounces to rhyme with + HEARSE. The twentieth century Mrs. Brewster wears a highnecked black silk + waist with a chatelaine watch pinned over her left breast and a spot of + Gordon's codfish (no bones) over her right. When a little girl she was + taken to see Longfellow, Lowell, and Ralph Waldo Emerson; she speaks + familiarly of the James boys, but this has no reference to the well-known + Missouri outlaws. She was brought up on blueberry cake, Postum and "The + Atlantic Monthly"; she loves the Boston "Transcript", God, and her + relatives in Newton Centre. Her idea of a daring joke is the remark Susan + Hale made to Edward Everett Hale about sending underwear to the heathen. + She once asked Donald Ogden Stewart to dinner with her niece; she didn't + think his story about the lady mind reader who read the man's mind and + then slapped his face, was very funny; she never asked him again. + </p> + <p> + The action of this story all takes place in MRS. BREWSTER'S Plymouth home + on two successive June evenings. As the figurative curtain rises MRS. + BREWSTER is sitting at a desk reading the latest instalment of Foxe's + "Book of Martyrs". + </p> + <p> + The sound of a clanking sword is heard outside. MRS. BREWSTER looks up, + smiles to herself, and goes on reading. A knock—a timid knock. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Come in. + </p> + <p> + (Enter CAPTAIN MIKES STANDISH, whiskered and forty. In a later generation, + with that imposing mustache and his hatred of Indians, Miles would + undoubtedly have been a bank president. At present he seems somewhat ill + at ease, and obviously relieved to find only PRISCILLA'S aunt at home.) + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Good evening, Captain Standish. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Good evening, Mrs. Brewster. It's—it's cool for June, isn't + it? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Yes. I suppose we'll pay, for it with a hot July, though. + </p> + <p> + MILES (nervously): Yes, but it—it is cool for June, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: So you said, Captain. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Yes. So I said, didn't I? (Silence.) + </p> + <p> + MILES: Mistress Priscilla isn't home, then? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Why, I don't think so, Captain But I never can be sure + where Priscilla is. + </p> + <p> + MILES (eagerly): She's a—a fine girl, isn't she? A fine girl. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Why, yes. Of course, Priscilla has her faults but she'd + make some man a fine wife—some man who knew how to handle her—an + older man, with experience. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Do you really think so, Mrs. Brewster? (After a minute.) Do you + think Priscilla is thinking about marrying anybody in particular? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Well, I can't say, Captain. You know—she's a little + wild. Her mother was wild, too, you know—that is, before the Lord + spoke to her. They say she used to be seen at the Mermaid Tavern in London + with all those play-acting people. She always used to say that Priscilla + would marry a military man. + </p> + <p> + MILES: A military man? Well, now tell me Mrs. Brewster, do you think that + a sweet delicate creature like Priscilla— + </p> + <p> + A VOICE (in the next room): Oh DAMN! + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: That must be Priscilla now. + </p> + <p> + THE VOICE: Auntie! + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Yes, Priscilla dear. + </p> + <p> + THE VOICE: Where in hell did you put the vermouth? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: In the cupboard, dear. I do hope you aren't going to get—er—"boiled" + again tonight, Priscilla. (Enter PRISCILLA, infinitely radiant, infinitely + beautiful, with a bottle of vermouth in one hand and a jug of gin in the + other.) PRISCILLA: Auntie, that was a dirty trick to hide the vermouth. + Hello Miles—shoot many Indians today? + </p> + <p> + MILES: Why—er er—no, Mistress Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Wish you'd take me with you next time, Miles. I'd love to shoot + an Indian, wouldn't you, auntie? + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! What an idea! And please dear, give Auntie + Brewster the gin. I—er—promised to take some to the church + social tonight and it's almost all gone now. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="015 (107K)" src="images/015.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MILES: I didn't see you at church last night, Mistress Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Well I'll tell you, Miles. I started to go to church—really + felt awfully religious. But just as I was leaving I thought, "Priscilla, + how about a drink—just one little drink?" You know, Miles, church + goes so much better when you're just a little boiled—the lights and + everything just kind of—oh, its glorious. Well last night, after I'd + had a little liquor, the funniest thing happened. I felt awfully good, not + like church at all—so I just thought I'd take a walk in the woods. + And I came to a pool—a wonderful honest-to-God pool—with the + moon shining right into the middle of it. So I just undressed and dove in + and it was the most marvelous thing in the world. And then I danced on the + bank in the grass and the moonlight—oh, Lordy, Miles, you ought to + have seen me. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: 'Scuse me, Auntie Brewster. And then I just lay in the grass + and sang and laughed. + </p> + <p> + MRS. BREWSTER: Dear, you'll catch your death of cold one of these nights. + I hope you'll excuse me, Captain Standish; it's time I was going to our + social. I'll leave Priscilla to entertain you. Now be a good girl, + Priscilla, and please dear don't drink straight vermouth—remember + what happened last time. Good night, Captain—good night, dear. + </p> + <p> + (Exit MRS. BREWSTER with gin.) + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Oh damn! What'll we do, Miles—I'm getting awfully sleepy. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Why—we might—er—pet a bit. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA (yawning): No. I'm too tired—besides, I hate whiskers. + </p> + <p> + MILES: Yes, that's so, I remember. (Ten minutes' silence, with MILES + looking sentimentally into the fireplace, PRISCILLA curled up in a chair + on the other side.) + </p> + <p> + MILES: I was—your aunt and I—we were talking about you before + you came in. It was a talk that meant a lot to me. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind closing that window? + </p> + <p> + (MILES closes the window and returns to his chair by the fireplace.) + </p> + <p> + MILES: And your aunt told me that your mother said you would some day + marry a military man. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind passing me that pillow over there? + </p> + <p> + (MILES gets up, takes the pillow to PRISCILLA and again sits down.) + </p> + <p> + MILES: And I thought that if you wanted a military man why—well, + I've always thought a great deal of you, Mistress Priscilla—and + since my Rose died I've been pretty lonely, and while I'm nothing but a + rough old soldier yet—well, what I'm driving at is—you see, + maybe you and I could sort of—well, I'm not much of a hand at fancy + love speeches and all that—but— + </p> + <p> + (He is interrupted by a snore. He glances up and sees that PRISCILLA has + fallen fast asleep. He sits looking hopelessly into the fireplace for a + long time, then gets up, puts on his hat and tiptoes out of the door.) + </p> + <p> + THE NEXT EVENING + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA is sitting alone, lost in revery, before the fireplace. It is + almost as if she had not moved since the evening before. + </p> + <p> + A knock, and the door opens to admit JOHN ALDEN, nonchalant, + disillusioned, and twenty-one. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Good evening. Hope I don't bother you. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: The only people who bother me are women who tell me I'm + beautiful and men who don't. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Not a very brilliant epigram—but still—yes, you ARE + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Of course, if it's an effort for you to say— + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Nothing is worthwhile without effort. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Sounds like Miles Standish; many things I do without effort are + worthwhile; I am beautiful without the slightest effort. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Yes, you're right. I could kiss you without any effort—and + that would be worthwhile—perhaps. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Kissing me would prove nothing. I kiss as casually as I + breathe. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: And if you didn't breathe—or kiss—you would die. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Any woman would. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Then you are like other women. How unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: I am like no woman you ever knew. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: You arouse my curiosity. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Curiosity killed a cat. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: A cat may look at a—Queen. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: And a Queen keeps cats for her amusement. They purr so + delightfully when she pets them. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: I never learned to purr; it must be amusing—for the Queen. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Let me teach you. I'm starting a new class tonight. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: I'm afraid I couldn't afford to pay the tuition. + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: For a few exceptionally meritorious pupils, various + scholarships and fellowships have been provided. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: By whom? Old graduates? + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: NO—the institution has been endowed by God— + </p> + <p> + JOHN: With exceptional beauty—I'm afraid I'm going to kiss you. NOW. + </p> + <p> + (They kiss.) + </p> + <p> + (Ten minutes pass.) + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Stop smiling in that inane way. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: I just happened to think of something awfully funny. You know the + reason why I came over here tonight? + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: To see me. I wondered why you hadn't come months ago. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: No. It's really awfully funny—but I came here tonight because + Miles Standish made me promise this morning to ask you to marry him. Miles + is an awfully good egg, really Priscilla. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="110 (79K)" src="images/110.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Speak for yourself, John. (They kiss.) + </p> + <p> + PRISCILLA: Again. + </p> + <p> + JOHN: Again—and again. Oh Lord, I'm gone. + </p> + <p> + (An hour later JOHN leaves. As the door closes behind him PRISCILLA sinks + back into her chair before the fireplace; an hour passes, and she does not + move; her aunt returns from the Bradfords' and after a few ineffectual + attempts at conversation goes to bed alone; the candles gutter, flicker, + and die out; the room is filled of sacred silence. Once more the clock + chimes forth the hour—the hour of fluted peace, of dead desire and + epic love. Oh not for aye, Endymion, mayst thou unfold the purple panoply + of priceless years. She sleeps—PRISCILLA sleeps—and down the + palimpsest of age-old passion the lyres of night breathe forth their + poignant praise. She sleeps—eternal Helen—in the moonlight of + a thousand years; immortal symbol of immortal aeons, flower of the gods + transplanted on a foreign shore, infinitely rare, infinitely erotic.) [1] + </p> + <p> + 1. For the further adventures of Priscilla, see F. Scott Fitzgerald's stories + in the "Girl With the Yellow Hair" series, notably "This Side of + Paradise," "The Offshore Pirate," "The Ice Palace," "Head and Shoulders," + "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," "Benediction" and "The Beautiful and Damned." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <h3> + THE SPIRIT OF '75 + </h3> + <p> + LETTERS OF A MINUTE MAN + </p> + <p> + In the Manner of Ring Lardner + </p> + <p> + Friend Ethen— + </p> + <p> + Well Ethen you will be surprised O. K. to hear I & the wife took a + little trip down to Boston last wk. to a T. party & I guess you are + thinking we will be getting the swelt hed over being ast to a T. party. In + Boston. + </p> + <p> + Well Ethen if you think that why you will be a 100 mi. offen the track + because Ethen I and Prudence sent the kind that gets a swelt hed over + being ast any wares like some of are naybers up here when they are ast any + wares so you see Ethen even if we had been ast any wares we wouldnt of had + no swelt hed. On acct of being ast any wares. + </p> + <p> + Well last Thurs. I and Prudence drove old Bessy down to Boston Bessy is + are horse see Ethen which is about 13 mi. from here Boston I mean Ethen as + the crow flys only no crow would ever fly to Boston if he could help it + because all the crows that ever flew to Boston was shot by them lousie + taverin keepers to make meals out of Ethen I never tast it nothing so + rotten in my life as the meals they give us there & the priceis would + knock your I out. 3 shillings for a peace of stake about as big as your I, + and 4 pence for a cup of coffy. The streets sent the only thing about + Boston thats crook it. Them taverin keepers is crook it to I mean see + Ethen. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="118 (109K)" src="images/118.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + After supper I & her was walking a round giving the town the double O + when we seen that Fanny Ewell Hall was all lit up like Charley Davis on + Sat. night & I says to Prudence lets go inside I think its free and + she says I bet you knowed it was free al right befor you ast me & sure + enough it was free only I hadnt knowed it before only I guess that + Prudence knows that when I say a thing it is generally O. K. Well Fanny + Ewell Hall was pack jam full of people & we couldnt see nothing + because there was a cockide stiff standing right in front of us & + jumping up & down & yelling No T. No T. at the top of his lunges + & Prudence says well why dont you take coffy or milk & for Gods + sake stay offen my foot & he turns to her & says maddam do you + want T. & slavery & she says no coffy & a hot dog just kidding + him see Ethen & he says maddam no T. shall ever land & she says no + but my husbend will in a bout 1 min. & I was just going to plank him 1 + when the door behint us bust open & a lot of indyans come in yelling + every body down to Grifins worf there is going to be a T. party only Ethen + they wasnt indyans at all but jest wite men drest up to look like indyans + & I says to a fello those aint indyans & he say no how did you + guess it & I says because I have seen real indyans many a time & + he says to a nother fello say Bill here is a man who says them sent real + indyans & the other fello says gosh I dont believe it & they + laffed only the laff was on them Ethen because they wasnt real indyans + & that is only tipical of how you cant tell these Boston swelt heds + nothing & I guess if they had ever seen a real indyan they would of + known better than to laff. Well I and Prudence follered the crowd down to + Grifins worf & them indyans which was only wite men drest up clumb + onto a ship there & begun throwing the cargo into Boston harber & + I says to a fello what is in them boxes & he says T. & I says well + why are they throwing it away & he says because they do not want to + pay the tacks which is about as sensable Ethen if I was to rite a lot of + letters & then as fast as I rote I would tare it up because I did not + want to pay for a stamp. Well I says somebody ought to catch he—ll + for this & he says are you a torie & I seen he was trying to kid + me & I says no I am a congregationalis & a loyal subject of king + Geo. Rex & he says o I thought you was a torie & a lot of fellos + who was with him give him the laff because he hadnt been abel to kid me. + Well after a whiles he says the indyans seem to be about threw & I + says yes only they sent indyans & the laff was on him again & he + seen it wasnt no use to try & kid me & Prudence says come on lets + beat it & on the way home I says I bet them Boston birds will feel + small when they find out that those wasnt indyans at all & she act it + like she was mad about something & says well they cant blame you for + not trying to tell them & its a wonder you didnt hire Fanny Ewell Hall + while you was about it & I says o is it & I might know youd get + sore because I was the 1st to find out about the indyans being wite men in + disgised & she says yes I suppose if somebody was to paint stripes on + a cow you would make a speech about it & say that you had discovered + that it wasnt no tiger & I wish I had been 1 of them indyans tonight + because I would of loved to of beened you with a Tommy Hawk & I says o + you would would you & she seen it wasnt no use to argue with me & + anyway Ethen nobody would be fool enough to paint stripes on a cow unless + maybe they was born in Boston. Well Ethen thats the way it goes & when + you do put one over on the wife they want to hit you with a Tommy Hawk + with best rgds. Ed. + </p> + <p> + Friend Ethen— + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="122 (121K)" src="images/122.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + No matter what a married man does in this world he gets in wrong & I + suppose if I was to die tonight Prudence would bawl me out for not having + let her know I was going to do it & just because I joined the minit + men the other eve. she has been acting like as if I had joined the Baptis + Church & I bet you are saying what in the h—ll is a minit man. + Well Ethen I will tell you. The other night I says to Prudence I think I + will drive over to Lexington to get Bessy shodd. Bessy is are horse see + Ethen. Well she says you will do nothing of the kind because all you want + to do in Lexington is get a snoot ful & if you think I am going to + wate up all night while you get boiled well you have got another guess + coming. She says the last time you had Bessy shodd the naybers are talking + about it yet & I says do you mean because I & Charley Davis was + singing & having a little fun & she says no because nobody wouldnt + call that singing & do you call it a little fun when you brought Bessy + up stares with you to show me how well she had been shodd at 3 A. M. in + the morning answer me that which is only her way of exagerating things + Ethen because we didnt bring Bessy only as far as the stares & I only + did it because Charley had been drinking a little to much & I didnt + want to iritate him because the way to handel drunks is to not iritate + them they are only worse only you cant tell a woman that & they think + the way to handel drunks is to look him in the eye & say arent you + ashamed of yourselves which only iritates him the moar. Well I says I am + not going to half no horse of mine going a round 1/2 shodd al the time + & Prudence says well I am not going to half no husband of mine going a + round 1/2 shot al the time & I says I will not go near Charley Davis + this time because I have lernt my lesson & she says al right if you + will promise to not go near Charley Davis you can go & when I got to + Lexington I thought I would stop in the taverin a min. just to say hulloh + to the boys because if a fello doesnt stop in the taverin to say hulloh to + the boys who are just as good as he is they are lible to say he has a + swelt hed & is to proud to stop in the taverin to say hulloh to the + boys. Who are just as good as he is. Well I didnt have any i dear that + Charley Davis would be there because I had told Prudence I wasnt going to + go near him & just because I said that I cant be expect it to sneek + into toun like as if I was a convick can I Ethen. Well the taverin was + crowd it & they had all got a good start & the long & the + short of it was that the 1st person I seen was Charley Davis & he says + hulloh there pink whiskers you are just in time to join the minit men + which is only a nicked name he has for me because my whiskers are red + brown. No I says I cannot join anything tonight fellos because I must go + right back home & he says if you dont join the minit men now some day + you wont have no home to go home to & I says what do you mean I wont + have no home to go home to & he says because the Brittish are going to + burn down all the homes of we farmers because we will not sell them any + food but first you had better have a drink. Well Ethen a fello dont like + to be a sissey about taking 1 drink does he & then I says now fellos I + must go home & then a couple of more fellos come in & they said Ed + you wont go home till we have brought you a drink & elect it you to + the minit men will you & I said no but I must go home right after + that. Well then we got to singing & we was going pretty good & + after a while I said now fellos I must go home & Charley Davis says to + me Ed before you go I want to have you shake hands with my friend Tom + Duffy who is here from Boston & he will tell you all about the minit + men & you can join tonight but look out or he will drink you under the + tabel because he is the worst fish in Boston & I says sure only I have + got to be going home soon because you remember what hapend last time & + I would like to see any body from Boston drink me under the tabel & + bet. you & I Ethen if that fellow is a fish then my grandmother is the + prince of whales & let me tell you what hapend. After we had drank + about 4 or 5 I seen he was getting sort of wite & I says well Boston + lets settle down now to some good steady drinking & he says listen + & I says what & he says listen & I says what & he says do + you know my wife & I says no & he says listen & I says what + & he says shes the best little woman in the world & I says sure + & he says what did you say & I says when & he says you have + insult it my wife the best little woman in the world & he begun to cry + & we had only had a bout 1 qt & wouldnt that knock you for a + cockide gool Ethen, only I guess you arent surprised knowing how much I + can holt without feeling any affects. Well I was feeling pretty good on + acct. of drinking the pride of Boston under the tabel & not feeling + any affects only I was feeling good like a fello naturely feels & the + fellos kind of made a lot of fuss on acct. me drinking him under the tabel + so I couldnt very well of gone home then & after a while Charley Davis + made a speech & well comed me into the minit men & so I am a minit + man Ethen but I cant exackly explain it to you until I see Charley again + because he didnt make it very clear that night. Well after a while we woke + the Boston fish up & we all went home & I was feeling pretty good + on acct. it being such a nice night & all the stars being out & + etc. & when I got home I said Prudence guess what hapend & she + says I can guess & I says Prudence I have been elect it a minit man + & she says well go on up stares & sleep it off & I says sleep + what off & she says stop talking so loud do you want the naybers to + wake up & I says whos talking loud & she says o go to bed & I + says I am talking in conversational tones & she says well you must be + conversing with somebody in Boston & I says o you mean that little + blond on Beecon St. & Ethen she went a 1,000,000 mi. up in the air + & I seen it wasnt no use to try & tell her that the reason I was + feeling good was on acct. having drank a Boston swelt hed to sleep without + feeling any affects & I bet the next time I get a chanct I am going to + get snooted right because a fello gets blamed just as much if he doesnt + feel the affects as if he was brought home in a stuper & I was just + kidding her about that blond on Beecon St. Some women dont know when they + are well off Ethen & I bet that guy from Bostons Tom Duffy I mean wife + wishes she was in Prudences shoes instead of her having married a man what + cant holt no more than a qt. without being brought home in a stuper. Best + rgds. Ed. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="128 (90K)" src="images/128.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Friend Ethen— + </p> + <p> + Well Ethen this is a funny world & when I joined the minit men last + mo. how was I to know that they called them minit men because they was + lible to get shot any minit. & here I am riteing to you in a tent + outside Boston & any minit a canon ball is lible to knock me for a + continental loop & my house has been burnt & Prudence is up in + Conk Cord with her sister the one who married that short skate dum bell + Collins who has owed me 2 lbs. for a yr. & 1/2 well Ethen it never + ranes but it pores & you can be glad you are liveing in a nice quiet + place like Philly. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="134 (68K)" src="images/134.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Well the other night I and Prudence was sound asleep when I heard some + body banging at the frt. door & I stuck my head out the up stares + window & I says who are you & he says I am Paul Revear & I + says well this is a h—ll of a time to be wakeing a peaceiful man out + of their bed what do you want & he says the Brittish are comeing & + I says o are they well this is the 19 of April not the 1st & I was + going down stares to plank him 1 but he had rode away tow wards Lexington + before I had a chanct & as it turned out after words the joke was on + me O. K. Well who is it says Prudence Charley Davis again because you + might as well come back to bed if it is & I says no it was some Boston + smart alick trying to be funny & I guess they are soar down there on + acct. what hapened to their prize fish up here last mo. & are trying + to get even do you know a Paul Revear & she says yes there was a boy + at school named Paul Revear who was crazy about me was he dark well Ethen + if all the fellos she says has been crazy about her was layed end to end + they would circum navygate the globe twicet & I says no he was yello + & that had her stopt so we went back to sleep only I couldn't help + laffing over the way I had slipt it across. About Revear being yello. Well + along a bout A. M. there was a lot of gun firing tow wards Lexington & + Prudence grabed me & says whets the shooting for & I says probably + that fello Revear who was so crazy a bout you has got funny oncet to oft + ten & it will teach them Boston doodes a lesson. Well Ethen I was + wrong for oncet & the firing kept getting worse & I hitcht up old + Bessy & drove over to Lexington Bessy is are horse & Ethen there + was the h—ll to pay there because the g—d d—m Brittish + redcotes had marcht nup from Boston & had fired on the Lexington + fellos & Charley Davis had been shot dead & a lot of the other + fellos was wooned it & they said you had better get your wife to the h—ll + out of your house because the g—d d—m Brittish redcotes are + coming back & they will burn everything along the rode the —— + I guess you know what word goes there Ethen & I was so d—m mad + at those g—d d—m Brittish redcotes on acct. shooting Charley + Davis dead that I said give me a gun & show me the —— who + done it & they says no you had better get your wife to a safe place to + go to & then you can come back because the —— will be + along this way again the ——. Well I drove as fast as I could + back to the farm & somebody had already told Prudence what had hapend + & as soon as I drove into the yd. she come out with my muskit & + hand it it to me & says dont you worry about me but you kill every d—m + redcote you can see & I says the ——s has killed Charley + Davis & she says I know it & here is all the bullits I could find. + Well when I got back to Lexington the redcotes was just coming along & + Ethen I guess they wont forget that march back to Boston for a little + whiles & I guess I wont either because the ——s burnt down + my house & barn & Prudence is gone to stay with her sister in Conk + Cord & here I am camping in a tent with a lot of other minit men on + the out skirts of Boston & there is a roomer a round camp that to + morrow we are going to move over to Bunker Hill which is a good name for a + Boston Hill Ill say & Ethen if you was to of told me a mo. ago that I + would be fighting to get Boston away from the Brittish I would of planked + you 1 because they could of had Boston for all I cared. Well Ethen I must + go out and drill some more now & probably we will half to listen to + some Boston bird makeing a speech they are great fellos for speeches about + down with Brittish tirrany & give me liberty or give me death but if + you was to ast me Ethen I would say give me back that house & barn + what those lousie redcotes burnt & when this excitement is all over + what I want to know is Ethen where do I get off at. Yrs Ed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter Six + </h2> + <h3> + THE WHISKY REBELLION. + </h3> + <p> + In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. Burgess + </p> + <p> + "Just the DAY for a Whisky Rebellion," said Aunt Polly and off she ran, + lipperty-lipperty-lip, to get a few shooting rifles. + </p> + <p> + "Oh goody goody," cried little Emily. "Now we can all shoot at those + horrid Revenue Officers," for the collectors of internal revenue were far + from popular with these kindly Pennsylvania folk and Aunt Polly Pinkwood + had often promised the children that if they were good some day they would + be allowed to take a shot at a Revenue Officer. + </p> + <p> + Soon she returned, bearing in her arms a number of bright shiny new guns. + The children crowded around in glee and soon all were supplied with + weapons except little Frank who of course was too young to use a gun and + was given a two-gallon jug of nice, old whisky to carry. Jed hitched up + old Taylor, the faithful farm horse, and as quick as you could say Jack + Robinson the little ones had piled into the old carryall. Round Mr. Sun + was just peeping over the Purple Hills when the merry little party started + on its way, singing and laughing at the prospect of the day's sport. + </p> + <p> + "I bet I kill five Revenue Officers," said little Edgar. + </p> + <p> + "Ha Ha Ha—you boaster, you," laughed Aunt Polly. "You will be lucky + if you kill two, for I fear they will be hard to find today." + </p> + <p> + "Oh do you think so, Aunt Polly?" said little Elinor and she began to cry, + for Elinor dearly loved to shoot. + </p> + <p> + "Hush dear," said Miss Pinkwood with a kindly pat, for she loved her + little charges and it hurt her to see them unhappy. "I was only joking. + And now children I will tell you a story." + </p> + <p> + "Oh goody goody," cried they all. "Tell us a true story." + </p> + <p> + "All right," said Aunt Polly. "I shall tell you a true story," and she + began. + </p> + <p> + "Once there was a brave handsome man—" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Welsbach," cried the children with one voice, for it was well known + in the neighborhood that Aunt Polly had long been sweet on Julius + Welsbach, the popular superintendent of the Sabbath School and the best + whisky maker for miles around. + </p> + <p> + "Hush children," said Aunt Polly blushing in vexation. "Of course not. And + if you interrupt me I shall not tell my story at all." But she was not + really angry. + </p> + <p> + "And one day this brave handsome man was out making whisky and he had just + sampled some when he looked up and what do you suppose he saw?" + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="144 (48K)" src="images/144.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Snakes," cried little Elmer whose father had often had delirium tremens, + greatly to the delight of his children. + </p> + <p> + "No, Elmer," said Miss Pinkwood, "not snakes." + </p> + <p> + "Pink lizards," cried little Esther, Elmer's sister. + </p> + <p> + "No," said Aunt Polly, with a hearty laugh, "he saw a—stranger. And + what do you suppose the stranger had?" + </p> + <p> + "A snoot full," chorused the Schultz twins. "He was pie-eyed." + </p> + <p> + "No," replied Miss Pinkwood laughing merrily. "It was before noon. Guess + again children. What did the stranger have?" + </p> + <p> + "Blind staggers," suggested little Faith whose mother had recently been + adjudged insane. + </p> + <p> + "Come children," replied Aunt Polly. "You are not very wide awake this + morning. The stranger had a gun. And when the brave handsome man offered + the stranger a drink what do you suppose the stranger said?" + </p> + <p> + "I know," cried little Prudence eagerly. "He said, 'Why yes I don't care + if I do.' That's what they all say." + </p> + <p> + "No, Prudence," replied Miss Pinkwood. "The stranger refused a drink." + </p> + <p> + "Oh come now, Aunt Polly," chorused the boys and girls. "You said you were + going to tell us a true story." And their little faces fell. + </p> + <p> + "Children," said Miss Polly, "the stranger refused the drink because he + was a Revenue Officer. And he pointed his gun at the brave handsome man + and said he would have to go to jail because he had not paid the tax on + his whisky. And the brave handsome man would have had to have gone to + jail, too; but fortunately his brother came up just at the right time and—" + </p> + <p> + "Shot the Revenuer dead," cried the children in glee. + </p> + <p> + "Yes children," said Miss Polly. "He shot the Revenue Officer dead." + </p> + <p> + "Oh goody goody," cried all. "Now tell us another story. Tell us about the + time your father killed a Revenue Officer with an ax." + </p> + <p> + "Oh you don't want to hear that again, do you children?" said Aunt Polly. + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes—yes—please," they cried, and Aunt Polly was just going + to begin when Jed the driver stopped his horses and said: + </p> + <p> + "This hilltop is as good a place to shoot from as I know of, Miss + Pinkwood. You can see both roads, and nobody can see you." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Jed," said Aunt Polly giving him a kindly smile, and without + more ado the children clambered out of the carryall and filled their guns + with powder and bullets. + </p> + <p> + "I get first shot," proudly announced Robert, the oldest boy, and somewhat + of a bully. + </p> + <p> + "Robert!" said Aunt Polly severely, and she looked almost ready to cry, + for Aunt Polly had tried hard to teach the boys to be true knights of + chivalry and it hurt her to have Robert wish to shoot a Revenue Officer + before the girls had had a chance. Robert had not meant to hurt Aunt + Polly's feelings but had only been thoughtless, and soon all was sunshine + again as little Ellen the youngest made ready to fire the first shot. + </p> + <p> + The children waited patiently and soon they were rewarded by the sight of + a Revenue Officer riding on horseback in the distant valley, as pretty a + target as one could wish. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="150 (47K)" src="images/150.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Now do be careful, dear," whispered Miss Pinkwood, "for if you miss, he + may take alarm and be off." But little Ellen did not miss. "Bang" went her + gun and the little Merry Breezes echoed back and forth, "She got him. She + got him", and old Mother West Wind smiled down at the happy sport. Sure + enough, when old Mr. Smoke had cleared away there was a nice dead Revenue + Officer lying in the road. "Well done, Ellen," said Miss Pinkwood, patting + her little charge affectionately which caused the happy girl to coo with + childish delight. + </p> + <p> + Mary had next shot and soon all were popping away in great glee. All the + merry wood folk gathered near to watch the children at their sport. There + was Johnny Chuck and Reddy Fox and Jimmy Skunk and Bobby Coon and oh + everybody. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="154 (107K)" src="images/154.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Soon round Mr. Sun was high in the Blue Sky and the children began to tire + somewhat of their sport. "I'm as hungry as a bear," said little Dick. "I'm + as hungry as two bears," said Emily. "Ha Ha Ha," laughed Miss Pinkwood, "I + know what will fix that," and soon she had spread out a delicious repast. + "Now children," said Miss Pinkwood when all had washed their faces and + hands, "while you were busy washing I prepared a surprise for you," and + from a large jug, before their delighted gaze, she poured out—what + do you think? "Bronxes," cried little Harriet. "Oh goody goody." And sure + enough Aunt Polly had prepared a jug of delicious Bronx cocktails which + all pronounced excellent. + </p> + <p> + And after that there were sandwiches and olives and pie and good three + year old whisky, too. + </p> + <p> + "That's awfully smooth rye, Aunt Polly," said little Prudence smacking her + two red lips. "I think I'll have another shot." + </p> + <p> + "No dear," said Miss Pinkwood, pleased by the compliment, but firm withal. + "Not now. Perhaps on the way home, if there is any left," for Aunt Polly + knew that too much alcohol in the middle of the day is bad for growing + children, and she had seen many a promising child spoiled by + over-indulgent parents. + </p> + <p> + After lunch those children who could stand helped Aunt Polly to clear away + the dishes and then all went sound asleep, as is the custom in + Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + When they awoke round Mr. Sun was just sinking behind the Purple Hills and + so, after taking a few more scattered shots at Revenue Officers, they + piled once more into the carryall and drove back to town. And as they + passed Mrs. Oliphant's house (Aunt Polly's sister) Aunt Flo Oliphant came + out on the porch and waved her handkerchief at the merry party. + </p> + <p> + "Let's give her a cheer," said Fred. + </p> + <p> + "Agreed," cried they all, and so twelve little throats united in three + lusty "huzzahs" which made Auntie Flo very happy you may be sure. + </p> + <p> + And as they drove up before the Pinkwoods' modest home twelve tired but + happy children with one accord voted the Whisky Rebellion capital fun and + Aunt Polly a brick. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <h3> + HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright + </p> + <p> + On a brisk winter evening in the winter of 1864 the palatial Fifth Avenue + "palace" of Cornelius van der Griff was brilliantly lighted with many + brilliant lights. Outside the imposing front entrance a small group of + pedestrians had gathered to gape enviously at the invited guests of the + "four hundred" who were beginning to arrive in elegant equipages, + expensive ball-dresses and fashionable "swallowtails". + </p> + <p> + "Hully gee!" exclaimed little Frank, a crippled newsboy who was the only + support of an aged mother, as a particularly sumptuous carriage drove up + and a stylishly dressed lady of fifty-five or sixty stepped out + accompanied by a haughty society girl and an elderly gentleman in clerical + dress. It was Mrs. Rhinelander, a social leader, and her daughter + Geraldine, together with the Rev. Dr. Gedney, pastor of an exclusive Fifth + Avenue church. + </p> + <p> + "What common looking people," said Mrs. Rhinelander, surveying the crowd + aristocratically with her lorgnette. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, aren't they?" replied the clergyman with a condescending glance + which ill befit his clerical garb. + </p> + <p> + "I'm glad you don't have people like that dans votre eglise, Dr. Gedney," + said young Geraldine, who thought it was "smart" to display her + proficiency in the stylish French tongue. At this moment the door of the + van der Griff residence was opened for them by an imposing footman in + scarlet livery and they passed into the abode of the "elect". + </p> + <p> + "Hully gee!" repeated little Frank. + </p> + <p> + "What's going on to-night?" asked a newcomer. + </p> + <p> + "Gee—don't youse know?" answered the newsboy. "Dis is de van der + Griffs' and tonight dey are giving a swell dinner for General Grant. Dat + lady wot just went in was old Mrs. Rhinelander. I seen her pitcher in de + last Harper's Weekly and dere was a story in de paper dis morning dat her + daughter Geraldine was going to marry de General." + </p> + <p> + "That isn't so," broke in another. "It was just a rumor." + </p> + <p> + "Well, anyway," said Frank, "I wisht de General would hurry up and come—it's + getting cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey." The onlookers + laughed merrily at his humorous reference to the frigid temperature, + although many cast sympathetic looks at his thin threadbare garments and + registered a kindly thought for this brave boy who so philosophically + accepted the buffets of fate. + </p> + <p> + "I bet this is him now," cried Frank, and all waited expectantly as a + vehicle drove up. The cabman jumped off his box and held the carriage door + open. + </p> + <p> + "Here you are, Miss Flowers," he said, touching his hat respectfully. + </p> + <p> + A silver peal of rippling laughter sounded from the interior of the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + "Why Jerry," came in velvet tones addressed to the coachman, "You mustn't + be so formal just because I have come to New York to live. Call me 'Miss + Ella,' of course, just like you did when we lived out in Kansas," and with + these words Miss Ella Flowers, for it was she, stepped out of the + carriage. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="164 (107K)" src="images/164.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + A hush fell on the crowd as they caught sight of her face—a hush of + silent tribute to the clear sweet womanhood of that pure countenance. A + young man on the edge of the crowd who was on the verge of becoming a + drunkard burst into tears and walked rapidly away to join the nearest + church. A pr-st—-te who had been plying her nefarious trade on the + avenue, sank to her knees to pray for strength to go back to her aged + parents on the farm. Another young man, catching sight of Ella's pure + face, vowed to write home to his old mother and send her the money he had + been expending in the city on drinks and dissipation. + </p> + <p> + And well might these city people be affected by the glimpse of the sweet + noble virtue which shone forth so radiantly in this Kansas girl's + countenance. Although born in Jersey City, Ella had moved with her parents + to the west at an early age and she had grown up in the open country where + a man's a man and women lead clean sweet womanly lives. Out in the pure + air of God's green places and amid kindly, simple, big hearted folks, + little Ella had blossomed and thrived, the pride of the whole country, and + as she had grown to womanhood there was many a masculine heart beat a + little faster for her presence and many a manly blush of admiration came + into the features of her admirers as she whirled gracefully with them in + the innocent pleasure of a simple country dance. But on her eighteenth + birthday, her parents had passed on to the Great Beyond and the + heartbroken Ella had come East to live with Mrs. Montgomery, her aunt in + Jersey City. This lady, being socially prominent in New York's "four + hundred", was of course quite ambitious that her pretty little niece from + the West should also enter society. For the last three months, therefore, + Ella had been feted at all the better class homes in New York and Jersey + City, and as Mrs. van der Griff, the Fifth Avenue social leader, was in + the same set as Ella's aunt, it was only natural that when making out her + list of guests for the dinner in honor of General Grant she should include + the beautiful niece of her friend. + </p> + <p> + As Ella stepped from the carriage, her gaze fell upon little Frank, the + crippled newsboy, and her eyes quickly filled with tears, for social + success had not yet caused her to forget that "blessed are the weak". + Taking out her purse, she gave Frank a silver dollar and a warm look of + sympathy as she passed into the house. + </p> + <p> + "Gee, there went an angel," whispered the little cripple, and many who + heard him silently echoed that thought in their hearts. Nor were they far + from wrong. + </p> + <p> + But even an angel is not free from temptation, and by letting Ella go into + society her aunt was exposing the girl to the whisperings of Satan—whisperings + of things material rather than things spiritual. Many a girl just as pure + as Ella has found her standards gradually lowered and her moral character + slowly weakened by the contact with the so-called "refined" and "cultured" + infidels one meets in fashionable society. Many a father and mother whose + ambition has caused them to have their daughter go out in society have + bitterly repented of that step as they watched the poor girl gradually + succumbing to the temptation of the world. Let her who thinks it is + "smart" to be in society consider that our brothels with their red plush + curtains, their hardwood floors and their luxurious appointments, are + filled largely with the worn out belles and debutantes of fashionable + society. + </p> + <p> + The next minute a bugle call sounded down the street and up drove a team + of prancing grays. Two soldiers sprang down from the coachman's box and + stood at rigid attention while the door of the carriage opened and out + stepped General Ulysses S. Grant. + </p> + <p> + A murmur of admiration swept over the crowd at the sight of his manly + inspiring features, in which the clean cut virility of a life free from + dissipation was accentuated by the neatly trimmed black beard. His erect + military bearing—his neat, well fitting uniform—but above all + his frank open face proclaimed him a man's man—a man among men. A + cheer burst from the lips of the onlookers and the brave but modest + general lowered his eyes and blushed as he acknowledged their greeting. + </p> + <p> + "Men and women," he said, in a voice which although low, one could see was + accustomed to being obeyed, "I thank you for your cheers. It makes my + heart rejoice to hear them, for I know you are not cheering me personally + but only as one of the many men who are fighting for the cause of liberty + and freedom, and for——" the general's voice broke a little, + but he mastered his emotion and went on—"for the flag we all love." + </p> + <p> + At this he pulled from his pocket an American flag and held it up so that + all could see. Cheer after cheer rent the air, and tears came to the + general's eyes at this mark of devotion to the common cause. + </p> + <p> + "Wipe the d—d rebels off the face of the earth, G-d d—'em," + shouted a too enthusiastic member of the crowd who, I fear, was a little + the worse for drink. In an instant General Grant had stepped up to him and + fixed upon him those fearless blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + "My man," said the general, "It hurts me to hear you give vent to those + oaths, especially in the presence of ladies. Soldiers do not curse, and I + think you would do well to follow their example." + </p> + <p> + The other lowered his head shamefacedly. "General," he said, "You're right + and I apologize." + </p> + <p> + A smile lit up the general's handsome features and he extended his hand to + the other. + </p> + <p> + "Shake on it," he said simply, and as the crowd roared its approval of + this speech the two men "shook". + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile within the van der Griff house all were agog with excitement in + expectation of the arrival of the distinguished guest. Expensively dressed + ladies fluttered here and there amid the elegant appointments; servants in + stylish livery passed to and fro with trays of wine and other spirituous + liquors. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of the cheering outside, the haughty Mrs. Rhinelander patted + her daughter Geraldine nervously, and between mother and daughter passed a + glance of understanding, for both felt that to-night, if ever, was + Geraldine's opportunity to win the handsome and popular general. + </p> + <p> + The doorbell rang, and a hush fell over the chattering assemblage; then + came the proud announcement from the doorman—"General Ulysses S. + Grant"—and all the society belles crowded forward around the guest + of honor. + </p> + <p> + It had been rumored that the general, being a soldier, was ignorant of + social etiquette, but such proved to be far from the case. Indeed, he + handled himself with such ease of manner that he captivated all, and for + each and every young miss he had an apt phrase or a pretty compliment, + greatly to their delight. + </p> + <p> + "Pleased to know you"—"Glad to shake the hand of such a pretty girl"—"What + a nice little hand—I wish I might hold it all evening"—with + these and kindred pleasantries the general won the way into the graces of + Mrs. van der Griff's fair guests, and many a female heart fluttered in her + bosom as she gazed into the clear blue eyes of the soldier, and listened + to his well chosen tactful words. + </p> + <p> + "And how is the dear General this evening?"—this in the affected + tone of old Mrs. Rhinelander, as she forced her way through the crowd. + </p> + <p> + "Finer than silk," replied he, and he added, solicitously, "I hope you + have recovered from your lumbago, Mrs. Rhinelander." + </p> + <p> + "Oh quite," answered she, "and here is Geraldine, General," and the + ambitious mother pushed her daughter forward. + </p> + <p> + "Comment vous portez vous, mon General," said Geraldine in French, "I hope + we can have a nice tete-a-tete to-night," and she fawned upon her prey in + a manner that would have sickened a less artificial gathering. + </p> + <p> + Were there not some amid all that fashionable throng in whom ideals of + purity and true womanhood lived—some who cared enough for the + sacredness of real love to cry upon this hollow mockery that was being + used to ensnare the simple, honest soldier? There was only one, and she + was at that moment entering the drawing room for the purpose of being + presented to the general. Need I name her? + </p> + <p> + Ella, for it was she, had been upstairs busying herself with her toilet + when General Grant had arrived and she now hurried forward to pay her + homage to the great soldier. And then, as she caught sight of his face, + she stopped suddenly and a deep crimson blush spread over her features. + She looked again, and then drew back behind a nearby portiere, her heart + beating wildly. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="176 (73K)" src="images/176.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Well did Ella remember where she had seen that countenance before, and as + she stood there trembling the whole scene of her folly came back to her. + It had happened in Kansas, just before her parents died, on one sunny May + morning. She had gone for a walk; her footsteps had led her to the banks + of a secluded lake where she often went when she wished to be alone. Many + an afternoon had Ella dreamed idly away on this shore, but that day, for + some reason, she had felt unusually full of life and not at all like + dreaming. Obeying a thoughtless but innocent impulse, with no intention of + evil, she had taken off her clothes and plunged thus n-k-d into the cool + waters of the lake. After she had swum around a little she began to + realize the extent of her folly and was hurriedly swimming towards the + shore when a terrific cramp had seized her lower limbs, rendering them + powerless. Her first impulse, to scream for help, was quickly checked with + a deep blush, as she realized the consequences if a man should hear her + call, for nearby was an encampment of Union soldiers, none of whom she + knew. The perplexed and helpless girl was in sore straits and was slowly + sinking for the third time, when a bearded stranger in soldier's uniform + appeared on the bank and dove into the water. To her horror he swam + rapidly towards her—but her shame was soon changed to joy when she + realized that he was purposely keeping his eyes tight shut. With a few + swift powerful strokes he reached her side, and, blushing deeply, took off + his blue coat, fastened it around her, opened his eyes, and swam with her + to the shore. Carrying her to where she had left her clothes he stayed + only long enough to assure himself that she had completely recovered the + use of her limbs, and evidently to spare her further embarrassment, had + vanished as quickly and as mysteriously as he had appeared. + </p> + <p> + Many a night after that had Ella lain awake thinking of the splendid + features and, the even more splendid conduct of this unknown knight who + wore the uniform of the Union army. "How I love him," she would whisper to + herself; "but how he must despise me!" she would cry, and her pillow was + often wet with tears of shame and mortification at her folly. + </p> + <p> + It was shortly after this episode that her parents had taken sick and + passed away. Ella had come East and had given up hope of ever seeing her + rescuer again. You may imagine her feelings then when, on entering the + drawing room at the van der Griffs', she discovered that the stranger who + had so gallantly and tactfully rescued her from a watery grave was none + other than General Ulysses S. Grant. + </p> + <p> + The poor girl was torn by a tumult of contrary emotions. Suppose he should + remember her face. She blushed at the thought. And besides what chance had + she to win such a great man's heart in competition with these society + girls like Geraldine Rhinelander who had been "abroad" and spoke French. + </p> + <p> + At that moment one of the liveried servants approached the general with a + trayful of filled wine glasses. So engrossed was the soldier hero in + talking to Geraldine—or, rather, in listening to her alluring + chatter—that he did not at first notice what was being offered him. + </p> + <p> + "Will you have a drink of champagne wine, General?" said Mrs. van der + Griff who stood near. + </p> + <p> + The general raised his head and frowned as if he did not understand. + </p> + <p> + "Come, mon General," cried Geraldine gayly, "We shall drink a votre succes + dans la guerre," and the flighty girl raised a glass of wine on high. + Several of the guests crowded around and all were about to drink to the + general's health. + </p> + <p> + "Stop," cried General Grant suddenly realizing what was being done, and + something in the tone of his voice made everyone pause. + </p> + <p> + "Madam," said he, turning to Mrs. van der Griff, "Am I to understand that + there is liquor in those glasses?" + </p> + <p> + "Why yes, General," said the hostess smiling uneasily. "It is just a + little champagne wine." + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="180 (66K)" src="images/180.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Madam," said the general, "It may be 'just champagne wine' to you, but + 'just champagne wine' has ruined many a poor fellow and to me all + alcoholic beverages are an abomination. I cannot consent, madam, to remain + under your roof if they are to be served. I have never taken a drop—I + have tried to stamp it out of the army, and I owe it to my soldiers to + decline to be a guest at a house where wine and liquor are served." + </p> + <p> + An excited buzz of comment arose as the general delivered this ultimatum. + A few there were who secretly approved his sentiments, but they were far + too few in numbers and constant indulgence in alcohol had weakened their + wills so that they dared not stand forth. An angry flush appeared on the + face of the hostess, for in society, "good form" is more important than + courage and ideals, and by his frank statement General Grant had violently + violated the canons of correct social etiquette. + </p> + <p> + "Very well, Mr. Grant," she said, stressing the "Mr."—"if that's the + way you feel about it——" + </p> + <p> + "Stop," cried an unexpected voice, and to the amazement of all Ella + Flowers stepped forward, her teeth clenched, her eyes blazing. + </p> + <p> + "Stop," she repeated, "He is right—the liquor evil is one of the + worst curses of modern civilization, and if General Grant leaves, so do + I." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. van der Griff hesitated for an instant, and then suddenly forced a + smile. + </p> + <p> + "Why Ella dear, of course General Grant is right," said she, for it was + well known in financial circles that her husband, Mr. van der Griff, had + recently borrowed heavily from Ella's uncle. "There will not be a drop of + wine served to-night, and now General, shall we go in to dinner? Will you + be so kind as to lead the way with Miss Rhinelander?" The hostess had + recovered her composure, and smiling sweetly at the guest of honor, gave + orders to the servants to remove the wine glasses. + </p> + <p> + But General Grant did not hear her; he was looking at Ella Flowers. And as + he gazed at the sweet beauty of her countenance he seemed to feel rising + within him something which he had never felt before—something which + made everything else seem petty and trivial. And as he looked into her + eyes and she looked into his, he read her answer—the only answer + true womanhood can make to clean, worthy manhood. + </p> + <p> + "Shall we go a la salle-a-manger?" sounded a voice in his ears, and + Geraldine's sinuous arm was thrust through his. + </p> + <p> + General Grant took the proffered talon and gently removed it from him. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Rhinelander," he said firmly, "I am taking this young lady as my + partner," and suiting the action to the word, he graciously extended his + arm to Ella who took it with a pretty blush. + </p> + <p> + It was General Grant's turn to blush when the other guests, with a few + exceptions, applauded his choice loudly, and made way enthusiastically as + the handsome couple advanced to the brilliantly lighted dining room. + </p> + <p> + But although the hostess had provided the most costly of viands, I am + afraid that the brave general did not fully appreciate them, for in his + soul was the joy of a strong man who has found his mate and in his heart + was the singing of the eternal song, "I love her—I love her—I + love her!" + </p> + <p> + It was only too apparent to the other guests what had happened and to + their credit be it said that they heartily approved his choice, for Mrs. + Rhinelander and her scheming daughter Geraldine had made countless enemies + with their haughty manners, whereas the sweet simplicity of Ella Flowers + had won her numerous friends. And all laughed merrily when General Grant, + in his after dinner speech, said "flowers" instead of "flour" when + speaking of provisioning the army—a slip which caused both the + general and Miss Flowers to blush furiously, greatly to the delight of the + good-natured guests. "All the world loves a lover"—truer words were + never penned. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, while the other men, according to the usages of best + society, were filling the air of the dining room with the fumes of + nicotine, the general, who did not use tobacco, excused himself—amid + many sly winks from the other men—and wandered out into the + conservatory. + </p> + <p> + There he found Ella. + </p> + <p> + "General," she began. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Flowers," said the strong man simply, "Call me Ulysses." + </p> + <p> + And there let us leave them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h2> + <h3> + CUSTER'S LAST STAND + </h3> + <p> + In the Manner of Edith Wharton + </p> + <p> + It was already late afternoon and the gas street lamps of the Boul' Mich' + were being lighted for Paris, or at least for Paris in summer, by a + somewhat frigid looking allumeur, when Philip Custer came to the end of + his letter. He hesitated for an instant, wrote "Your——," then + crossed that out and substituted "Sincerely." No, decidedly the first + ending, with its, as is, or, rather, as ordinarily is, the case in + hymeneal epistles, somewhat possessive sense, would no longer suffice. + "Yours truly"—perhaps; "sincerely"—better; but certainly not + "Your husband." He was done, thank God, with presences. + </p> + <p> + Philip sipped his absinthe and gazed for an instant through the Cafe + window; a solitary fiacre rattled by; he picked up the result of his + afternoon's labor, wearily. + </p> + <p> + "Dear Mary," he read, "When I told you that my employers were sending me + to Paris, I lied to you. It was, perhaps, the first direct lie that I ever + told you; it was, I know now, the last. But a falsehood by word of mouth + mattered really very little in comparison with the enormous lie that my + life with you had become." + </p> + <p> + Philip paused and smiled, somewhat bitterly, at that point in the letter. + Mary, with her American woman's intuition, would undoubtedly surmise that + he had run off with Mrs. Everett; there was a certain ironical humor in + the fact that Mary's mistaken guess would be sadly indicative of her whole + failure to understand what her husband was, to use a slang expression, + "driving at." + </p> + <p> + "I hope that you will believe me when I say that I came to Paris to paint. + In the past four years the desire to do that has grown steadily until it + has mastered me. You do not understand. I found no one in America who did. + I think my mother might have, had she lived; certainly it is utterly + incomprehensible to father." + </p> + <p> + Philip stopped. Ay, there was the rub—General Custer, and all that + he stood for. Philip glimpsed momentarily those early boyhood days with + his father, spent mainly in army posts; the boy's cavalry uniform, in + which he had ridden old Bess about the camp, waving his miniature sabre; + the day he had been thrown to the ground by a strange horse which he had + disobediently mounted, just as his father arrived on the scene. Philip had + never forgotten his father's words that day. "Don't crawl, son,—don't + whine. It was your fault this time and you deserved what you got. Lots of + times it won't be your fault, but you'll have to take your licking anyway. + But remember this, son—take your medicine like a man—always." + </p> + <p> + Philip groaned; he knew what the general would say when the news of his + son's desertion of his wife and four year old boy reached him. He knew + that he never could explain to his father the absolute torture of the last + four years of enervating domesticity and business mediocrity—the + torture of the Beauty within him crying for expression, half satisfied by + the stolen evenings at the art school but constantly growing stronger in + its all-consuming appeal. No, life to his father was a simple problem in + army ethics—a problem in which duty was "a", one of the known + factors; "x," the unknown, was either "bravery" or "cowardice" when + brought in contact with "a". Having solved this problem, his father had + closed the book; of the higher mathematics, and especially of those + complex problems to which no living man knew the final answer, he had no + conception. And yet—— + </p> + <p> + Philip resumed his reading to avoid the old endless maze of subtleties. + </p> + <p> + "It is not that I did not—or do not—love you. It is, rather, + that something within me is crying out—something which is stronger + than I, and which I cannot resist. I have waited two years to be sure. + Yesterday, as soon as I reached here, I took my work to the man who is + considered the finest art critic in Paris. He told me that there was a + quality to my painting which he had seen in that of no living artist; he + told me that in five years of hard work I should be able to produce work + which Botticelli would be proud to have done. Do you understand that, Mary—Botticelli! + </p> + <p> + "But no, forgive me. My paean of joy comes strangely in a letter which + should be of abject humility for what must seem to you, to father, and to + all, a cowardly, selfish act of desertion—a whining failure to face + life. Oh dear, dear Mary if you could but understand what a hell I have + been through—" + </p> + <p> + Philip took his pen and crossed out the last line so that no one could + read what had been there. + </p> + <p> + "Materially, of course, you and little George will be better off; the + foolish pride with which I refused to let your parents help us now no + longer stands in their way. You should have no difficulty about a divorce. + </p> + <p> + "You can dispose of my things as you see fit; there is nothing I care + about keeping which I did not bring. + </p> + <p> + "Again, Mary, I cannot ask you to forgive, or even to understand, but I do + hope that you will believe me when I say that this act of mine is the most + honest thing I have ever done, and that to have acted out the tragi-comedy + in the part of a happy contented husband would have made of both of our + lives a bitter useless farce. Sincerely, Philip." + </p> + <p> + He folded the pages and addressed the envelope. + </p> + <p> + "Pardon, Monsieur"—a whiff of sulphur came to his nose as the waiter + bent over the table to light the gas above him. "Would Monsieur like to + see the journal? There is a most amusing story about—— The + bill, Monsieur? Yes—in a moment." + </p> + <p> + Philip glanced nervously through the pages of the Temps. He was anxious to + get the letter to the post—to have done with indecision and worry. + It would be a blessed relief when the thing was finally done beyond chance + of recall; why couldn't that stupid waiter hurry? + </p> + <p> + On the last page of the newspaper was an item headlined "Recent News from + America." Below was a sub-heading "Horrible Massacre of Soldiers by + Indians—Brave Stand of American Troopers." He caught the name + "Custer" and read: + </p> + <p> + "And by his brave death at the hands of the Indians, this gallant American + general has made the name of Custer one which will forever be associated + with courage of the highest type." + </p> + <p> + He read it all through again and sat quietly as the hand of Polyphemus + closed over him. He even smiled a little—a weary, ironic smile. + </p> + <p> + "Monsieur desires something more, perhaps"—the waiter held out the + bill. + </p> + <p> + Philip smiled. "No—Monsieur has finished—there is nothing + more." + </p> + <p> + Then he repeated slowly, "There is nothing more." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Philip watched his son George blow out the twelve candles on his birthday + cake. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," said George, "when I get to be eighteen, can I be a soldier just + like grandfather up there?" He pointed to the portrait of Philip's father + in uniform which hung in the dining room. + </p> + <p> + "Of course you can, dear," said his mother. "But you must be a brave boy". + </p> + <p> + "Grandfather was awful brave, wasn't he father?" This from little Mary + between mouthfuls of cake. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Mary," Philip answered. "He was very, very brave." + </p> + <p> + "Of course he was," said George. "He was an American." + </p> + <p> + "Yes," answered Philip, "That explains it.—he was an American." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Custer looked up at the portrait of her distinguished father-in-law. + </p> + <p> + "You know Philip, I think it must be quite nice to be able to paint a + picture like that. I've often wondered why you never kept up your art." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE + </h2> + <h3> + "FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD" + </h3> + <p> + A DRAMA OF THE GREAT WAR + </p> + <p> + Act I: In the Manner of Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews + </p> + <p> + Act 2: In the Manner of Eugene O'Neill + </p> + <p> + ACT ONE + </p> + <p> + (Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews) + </p> + <p> + SCENE I + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A principal street of an American city in the spring of 1918. +</pre> + <p> + At the rear of the stage, representing the opposite sidewalk of the + street, are gathered many people come to bid farewell to the boys of the + Blankth regiment who are soon to march past on their way to France. + </p> + <p> + Extending across the "street", from footlights to "sidewalk", is a large + white plaster arch, gayly decorated with the Allied colors. + </p> + <p> + On this arch is the inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + </p> + <p> + At the rising of the curtain, distant march music is heard (off stage, + right); this constantly grows louder during the ensuing dialogue which + takes place between three elderly women crowded together at the edge of + the sidewalk. These women, although, before the war, of different stations + in social rank, are now united, as are all mothers in the Allied + countries, by the glorious badge which each proudly wears pinned over her + heart—the service star. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Wife—I hear them coming. + </p> + <p> + The Street-cleaner's Wife—So do I. I hope my boy Pat sees me. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Wife—I told my Jean where to look. + </p> + <p> + The approaching music and the cheering of the spectators drowns out + further conversation. + </p> + <p> + Enter (right) the regimental band playing the "Stars and Stripes Forever." + They march through the arch and exit left. Following them comes the flag, + at the sight of which all the male spectators (young boys and men too old + to fight) remove their hats. After the colors come the troops, splendid + clean faced fellows, in whose eyes shines the light of civilization's + ideals, in whose ears rings the never forgettable cry of heroic France and + brave little Belgium. The boys are marching four abreast, with a firm + determined step; it is as though each man were saying to himself "They + shall not pass." + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="204 (101K)" src="images/204.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + After the first few squads have marched through the arch and off left, the + command is issued off-stage "Company—HALT." A young lieutenant + repeats this order to his men, and the column comes to a stop. The men + stand at attention until given the command "Rest", when they relax and a + murmur of conversation arises from the ranks, in which characteristic + sentences "German ideals are not our ideals" and "Suppose it was your own + sister" show only too well what the boys are thinking of day and night. + </p> + <p> + As the column halts, the three service star mothers rush out from the curb + and embrace their sons who happen to be in this company. At the same time + a very attractive girl runs up to the young lieutenant. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Lieutenant—Ellen! + His Fiancee—John! + The Professor's Son} + The Streetcleaner's Son } Mother! + The Pawnbroker's Son } + + The Professor's Wife } + The Streetcleaner's Wife } My Boy! + The Pawnbroker's Wife } + Voice off stage—Company—Atten SHUN! +</pre> + <p> + The farewells are said, the men come to attention. + </p> + <p> + Voice off stage—Forward—MARCH + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(Pointing with his sword to the inscription on the + arch)—Forward for the Freedom of the World—MARCH. + </p> + <p> + The men's teeth click together, their heads are thrown back, and with a + light in their eyes that somehow suggests Joan of Arc the Crusaders move + on. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SCENE 2 + + Three months later. +</pre> + <p> + A section of an American front line trench now occupied by the Blankth + regiment. + </p> + <p> + It is early morning and the three soldiers mentioned in Scene 1 are + conversing together for perhaps the last time, for soon they are to be + given the chance which every American man desires more than anything in + the world—the opportunity to go "over the top". + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—Well fellows, in a few minutes we shall be able + to show the people at home that their boys are not cowards when the fate + of civilization is at stake. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Son—Here's a newspaper clipping mother sent me. + It's from a speech made the other day in Congress. (He reads) "And we and + our children—and our children's children will never forget the debt + we owe those brave boys who are now in France." + </p> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—That makes a fellow feel pretty good inside, + doesn't it? It makes me glad I'm doing my bit—and after the war I + hope the ideals which have inspired us all will make us better citizens in + a better world. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—Not only will we be better citizens—not + only will the torch of liberty shine more brightly—but also each one + of us will go back to his job with a deeper vision. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Son—That's right I am a musician—a pianist, + you know—and I hope that after the war I shall be able to tell + America, through my music, of the glory of this holy cause. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—I didn't know you were a pianist. + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Son—Yes—ever since I was a boy—I have + had no other interest. My father tried to make me go into his shop but I + couldn't stand it. He got angry and refused to support me; I had a hard + time until I won a scholarship at a New York musical college. Just before + the war I had a chance to play the Schumann concerto with the + Philharmonic; the critics all said that in another year I would be—but + fellows—you must think me frightfully conceited to talk so, and + besides what matters my musical career in comparison with the sacrifice + which everyone is making? + </p> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—And gladly making, too, for it is easy to + give up all, as did Joan of Arc, for France. Attention, men! here comes + one of our officers. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The three stand at attention. +</pre> + <p> + Enter the Lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Well, men, do you feel ready? + </p> + <p> + The Three—More than ready, sir—eager. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Brave men! (To the Professor's Son) Come here a + minute, Keating. I have something to ask you before we go over the top. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son and the Lieutenant go to one side. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(To the other two in a kindly manner)—At ease! + </p> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—Thank you, sir. + </p> + <p> + They relax from their rigid posture of "attention". + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(To the Professor's Son)—Keating, when we "go + over", we—may—never come back, you know. And I want to ask a + favor of you. I am engaged—to a girl back home—here is her + picture (he draws a photograph from his inner breast pocket and shows it + to the Professor's Son.) + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—She is beautiful, Sir. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(Putting the photograph back in his pocket)—Yes + very beautiful. And (dropping his eyes)—I love her. If—if I + should "go west" I want you to write her and tell her that my last + thoughts were of my country and—her. We are to be married—after + the war—if (suddenly clearing his throat). Her name is Ellen + Radcliff—here, I'll write the address down for you. + </p> + <p> + He does so, and hands the slip of paper to the Professor's Son, who + discreetly turns away. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(Brusquely)—That's all, Keating. + </p> + <p> + A bugle sounds. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Attention men! At the next bugle call you go over the + top—remember that you are Americans and that Americans know how to + fight and die in the cause of liberty and for the freedom of the world. + The Three Soldiers—We are ready to make the supreme sacrifice if + need be. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bugle sounds. +</pre> + <p> + The Lieutenant—(Climbing up the ladder to the top of the trench)—Follow + me, men— + </p> + <p> + The Three Soldiers—(Climbing up after him)—Lafayette—we + come, though poppies bloom in Flanders field. + </p> + <p> + They go "over the top". + </p> + <p> + SCENE 3 + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A section of a Hun trench a minute later. Two Hun soldiers are +conversing together; another Hun is reading a copy of Nietzsche. +</pre> + <p> + First Hun Soldier—And then we cut the hands off all the little + children—oh it was wonderful. + </p> + <p> + Second Hun Soldier—I wish I had been there. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A Hun Lieutenant rushes in. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Hun Lieutenant—(Kicking the three men and brandishing his +revolver)—Swine—wake up—here come the Americans. + + The three spring to their feet and seize their guns. At the top +of the trench appears the American lieutenant, closely followed by the +three soldiers. +</pre> + <p> + The American Lieutenant—(Coolly)—We come to avenge the sinking + of the Lusitania. + </p> + <p> + The Hun Lieutenant—Hoch der Kaiser! Might is stronger than right! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He treacherously tries to shoot the American but the Professor's +Son disarms him with his bayonet. The three Hun soldiers offer a show of +resistance. +</pre> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—(To first Hun soldier)—Your hands are + unclean with the murder of innocent women and children. + </p> + <p> + First Hun Soldier—(Dropping his gun)—Kamerad! + </p> + <p> + The Pawnbroker's Son—(To the other Hun soldiers)—Prussianism + has destroyed the Germany of Bach and Beethoven and you fellows know it, + too. + </p> + <p> + Second and third Hun Soldiers—(Dropping their guns)—Kamerad! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The American Lieutenant—Men—you have kept the faith. I am proud of +you. Forward! + + An explosion (not too loud to annoy the audience) is heard off +stage right. +</pre> + <p> + The Professor's Son—(Sinking to the ground) Fellows, I'm afraid + they've got me. + </p> + <p> + The Streetcleaner's Son—What a shame! + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Is there anything we can do to ease the pain? + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="218 (119K)" src="images/218.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—(Weakening rapidly) No—go on, boys, carry + the—banner of—civilization's ideals—forward—without + me—Tell mother I'm glad—I did—my bit—for the + freedom—of the world—fellows, the only—thing—I + regret—is that I won't—be able to be with you—when you—go + back—to enjoy the gratitude—of America—good-bye, + fellows, may you drink—to the full—the rewards of a grateful + nation. + </p> + <p> + He dies. The others regretfully leave him behind as they push on after the + fleeing Huns. + </p> + <p> + The stage is slowly darkened—the noise of battle dies away. + </p> + <p> + Enter an Angel in the uniform of the Y.M.C.A. She goes up to the fallen + hero and taking him in her arms tenderly carries him off the stage. + </p> + <p> + CURTAIN TWO YEARS PASS ACT TWO + </p> + <p> + (Eugene O'Neill) + </p> + <p> + SCENE I + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The bedroom of a bachelor apartment in New York City in the Fall +of 1920. +</pre> + <p> + There is about the room an air of neglect, as though the occupant did not + particularly give a damn whether he slept in this room or in hell. This is + evidenced in a general way by the absence of any attempts at decoration + and by the presence of dirty laundry and unopened letters scattered about + the room. + </p> + <p> + The furniture consists of a bed and a bureau; at the foot of the former is + a trunk such as was used by American army officers in the recent war. + </p> + <p> + Although it is three in the morning, the bed is unoccupied. The electric + light over the bureau has been left lighted. + </p> + <p> + The lamp flickers and goes out for a minute; when it again flashes on, the + Angel and the Professor's Son are seen standing in the room, as though + they had come there directly from the close of the preceding act; the + Angel, however, has completely removed all Y.M.C.A. insignia and now has a + beard and chews tobacco; from time to time he spits out of the window. + </p> + <p> + The angel—Why the hell weren't you satisfied to stay in heaven? + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—Well, I just wanted to see my old buddies once + more—I want to see them enjoying the gratitude of the world. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Angel—Hmmmm—well, this is where your Lieutenant now lives—and I +think I hear him coming. + + They step behind a curtain. The noise of a key rattling in a +lock is heard, then a light flashes on in the next room. The sound of +unsteady footsteps—a vase is knocked over—a curse—then enter the +Lieutenant. +</pre> + <p> + He wears a dinner-coat, one sleeve of which hangs empty. His face is + white, his eyes set, his mouth hard and hopeless. He is drunk—not + hilariously—but with the drunkenness of despair. + </p> + <p> + He sits down on the bed and remains for several minutes, his head in his + hands. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—God, I'm drunk—(after a pause)—drunk + again—well, what of it—what the hell difference does it make—get + drunk if I want to—sure I will—get drunk—that's the dope + DRUNK—oh Christ—! + </p> + <p> + He throws himself on the bed and after lying there a few minutes sits up. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Gotta have another drink—can't go sleep, God + damn it—brain too clear—gotta kill brain—that's the dope—kill + brain—forget—wipe out past— + </p> + <p> + He opens the trunk in his search for liquor. He suddenly pulls out his + lieutenant's coat and holds it up. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—There's that God damn thing—never wanted to see + it again—wound stripes on right sleeve, too—hurrah for brave + soldier—arm shot off to—to make world safe for democracy—blaa—the + god damn hypocrites—democracy hell—arm shot off because I + wasn't clever enough to stay out of it—ought to have had sense + enough to join the—the ordinance department or—or the Y.M.C.A. + </p> + <p> + He feels aimlessly through the pockets of the coat. Suddenly, from the + inside breast pocket he draws out something—a photograph— + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Ellen! Oh God! + </p> + <p> + He gazes at the picture for a long time. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="226 (76K)" src="images/226.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—Yes, Ellen, I should have joined the Y.M.C.A. + shouldn't I?—where they don't get their arms shot off—couldn't + marry a man with one arm, could you?—of course not—think of + looking at an empty sleeve year after year—children might be born + with only one arm, too—children—oh God damn you, Ellen, you + and your Y.M.C.A. husband! + </p> + <p> + He tears the picture in two and hurls it into the trunk. Then he sinks + onto the bed, sobbing drunkenly. After a few minutes, he walks over to the + trunk and picks up one half of the torn picture. He turns it over in his + hand and reads the writing on the back. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant (Reading)—"I'm waiting for you, dear—when you + have done your bit 'for the freedom of the world'." + </p> + <p> + He smiles, wearily, and reaches down to pick up the other half of the + picture. His eye is caught by something shiny; it is his army revolver. He + slowly picks it up and looks at it for a long time. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—For the freedom of the world— + </p> + <p> + He quickly opens his top bureau drawer and takes out a box of cartridges. + One of these he inserts in a chamber of his revolver. + </p> + <p> + The Lieutenant—For the FREEDOM— + </p> + <p> + He laughs. + </p> + <p> + As the curtain falls he presses the revolver against his temple and fires. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SCENE 2 + + A bare room in a boarding house. To the left is a bed, to the +right a grand piano—the latter curiously out of keeping with the other +cheap furnishings. The room is in partial darkness. +</pre> + <p> + The door slowly swings open; the Angel and the Professor's Son enter. + </p> + <p> + The Angel—And here you have the room of your friend the Pawnbroker's + Son—the musical genius—with a brilliant future. + </p> + <p> + They hide in a closet, leaving the door partly open. + </p> + <p> + Enter Jean, the Pawnbroker's Son. He has on a cutaway suit—a relic + of his first and last public concert before the war. His shoulders sag + dejectedly and his face is drawn and white. He comes in and sits on the + bed. A knock—a determined knock—is heard at the door but Jean + does not move. The door opens and his landlady—a shrewish, sharp + faced woman of 40—appears. He gets up off the bed when he sees her + and bows. + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—I forgot you was deef or I wouldn't have wasted my time + hitting my knuckles against your door. + </p> + <p> + Jean gazes at her. + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—Well Mr. Rosen I guess you know why I'm here—it's + pay up today or get out. + </p> + <p> + Jean—Please write it down—you know I cannot hear a word you + say. I suppose it's about the rent. + </p> + <p> + The landlady takes paper and pencil and writes. + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—(Reading over the result of her labor)—"To-day—is—the—last + day. If you can't pay, you must get out." + </p> + <p> + She hands it to Jean and he reads. + </p> + <p> + Jean—But I cannot pay. Next week perhaps I shall get work— + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—(Scornfully)—Yes—Next week maybe I have to + sell another liberty bond for seventy dollars what I paid a hundred + dollars for, too. No sir I need the money NOW. Here— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She writes and hands it to him. +</pre> + <p> + Jean (Reading)—Sell my piano? But please I cannot do that—yet. + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—A lot of good a piano does a deef person like you. + That's a good one—( She laughs harshly). The deef musician—ho + ho—with a piano. + </p> + <p> + Jean—Madam, I shall pay you surely next week. There has been some + delay in my war risk insurance payment. I should think that you would + trust a soldier who lost his hearing in the trenches— + </p> + <p> + The Landlady—That's old stuff. You soldiers think just because you + were unlucky enough to get drafted you can spend the rest of your life + patting yourselves on the back. Besides—what good did the war do + anyway—except make a lot of rich people richer? + </p> + <p> + She scribbles emphatically "Either you pay up tonight or out you go." + </p> + <p> + Handing this to Jean with a flourish, she exits. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He sits on the bed for a long time. +</pre> + <p> + Finally he glances up at the wall over his bed where hangs a cheap photo + frame. In the center is a picture of President Wilson; on one side of this + is a crude print of a soldier, on the other side a sailor; above is the + inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + </p> + <p> + Jean takes down the picture and looks at it. As he replaces it on the wall + he sees hanging above it the bayonet which he had carried through the war. + He slowly takes the weapon down, runs his fingers along the edge and + smiles—a quiet tired smile which does not leave his face during the + rest of the scene. + </p> + <p> + He walks over to the piano and plays the opening chords of the Schumann + concerto. Then shaking his head sadly, he tenderly closes down the lid and + locks it. + </p> + <p> + He next writes a note which he folds and places, with the key to the + piano, in an envelope. Sealing and addressing the envelope, he places it + on the piano. Then, walking over to the bed, he picks up the bayonet, and + shutting his eyes for an instant, he steps forward and cuts his throat as + the curtain falls. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SCENE 3 + + Same as Act 1, Scene 1 except for the changes made in the city +street by a year or more of peace. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="236 (86K)" src="images/236.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + The arch across the thoroughfare still stands, although it has become + badly discolored and dirty; the inscription "For the Freedom of the World" + is but faintly visible. As the curtain rises workmen are busy at work + tearing the arch down. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter the Angel and the Professor's Son. +</pre> + <p> + The Angel—Stand over here, out of the way, and you'll see the last + of your cronies—Pat, the Streetcleaner's Son—enjoying the + gratitude of the world. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son does not answer. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter Pat. He has on an old pair of corduroy trousers, with his +brown army shirt, and shoes out at the heel. +</pre> + <p> + He looks as if he had not slept for days certainly he has not shaved for a + week. He approaches one of the workmen. + </p> + <p> + Pat—Say buddy any chance for a job here? + </p> + <p> + The Workman—Hell no. They was fifty applicants yesterday. (Looking + at his army shirt) Most of them ex-soldiers like you. Jobs is mighty + scarce. + </p> + <p> + Pat—I'll tell the world they are. I'd almost join the army again, + except for my wife and kid. + </p> + <p> + The Workman—God—don't do it. + </p> + <p> + Pat—Why—was you across? + </p> + <p> + The Workman—Yes, God damn it—eight months. Next war I'll let + somebody else do the fighting. + </p> + <p> + Pat—Same here. The wise guys were them that stayed at home and kept + their jobs. + </p> + <p> + The Workman—I'll say they were. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Pat—(Growing more excited)—And while we was over there fighting, +nothing was too good for us—"brave boys," they said, "we shall never +forget what you have done for us." Never forget—hell! In about a year +everybody forgot there ever was a war and a fellow has a hell of a time +getting a job—and when you mention the war they just laugh—why God +damn it, I've been out of work for six months and I ain't no loafer +either and my wife has had to go back to her folks and I'm just about +all in— + + During this speech the work on dismantling the arch has steadily +progressed. Suddenly there comes a warning cry—"Look out"—as the +supports unexpectedly give way. Pat is too engrossed in his tirade to +take heed, and as the center portion of the arch falls it crushes him +beneath its weight. After the cloud of dust clears, he is seen lying +under the mass. By a curious twist of fate he has been crushed by the +portion of the arch bearing the inscription "For the Freedom of the +World." His eyes open for an instant—he reads, through the mist of +approaching death, the words, and he laughs— +</pre> + <p> + Pat—For the Freedom of the World—Oh Christ! + </p> + <p> + His mocking laughter is interrupted by a severe fit of coughing and he + sinks back dead. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's Son—Oh God—take me somewhere where I can't + ever see the world. + </p> + <p> + The angel—Come to heaven. + </p> + <p> + CURTAIN <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Parody Outline of History, by +Donald Ogden Stewart + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PARODY OUTLINE OF HISTORY *** + +***** This file should be named 1478-h.htm or 1478-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/7/1478/ + +Produced by Charles Keller, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Parody Outline of History + +Author: Donald Ogden Stewart + +Posting Date: August 13, 2008 [EBook #1478] +Release Date: October, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PARODY OUTLINE OF HISTORY *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller + + + + + +A PARODY OUTLINE OF HISTORY + +By Donald Ogden Stewart + + + Wherein may be found a curiously irreverent treatment of + AMERICAN HISTORICAL EVENTS + Imagining them as they would be narrated + by American's most characteristic + contemporary authors + + + + + To + + GILBERT HOLLAND STEWART, Jr. + + + + +Preface + +Mr. H. G. Wells, in his "Outline of History," was of necessity forced to +omit the narration of many of the chief events in the history of these +United States. Such omissions I have in this brief volume endeavored +to supply. And as American history can possibly best be written by +Americans and as we have among us no H. G. Wells, I have imagined +an American history as written conjointly by a group of our most +characteristic literary figures. + +Apologies are due the various authors whose style and, more +particularly, whose Weltanschauung I have here attempted to reproduce; +thanks are due The Bookman for permission to reprint such of these +chapters as appeared in that publication. I give both freely. D. O. S. + + + +Contents + +I INTRODUCTION: A Critical Survey of American History In the Manner of +William Lyon Phelps + +II CRISTOFER COLOMBO: A Comedy of Discovery In the Manner of James +Branch Cabell + +III MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis + +IV THE COURTSHIP OF, MILES STANDISH In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald + +V THE SPIRIT OF '75: Letters of a Minute Man In the Manner of Ring +Lardner + +VI THE WHISKY REBELLION In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. +Burgess + +VII HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright + +VIII CUSTER'S LAST STAND In the Manner of Edith Wharton + +IX FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD: A Drama of the Great War Act I--In the +Manner of Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews Act 2--In the Manner of Eugene +O'Neill + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +INTRODUCTION + +A CRITICAL SURVEY OF AMERICAN HISTORY + +In the Manner of William Lyon Phelps + +On a memorable evening in the year 1904 I witnessed the opening +performance of Maude Adams in "Peter Pan". Nothing in the world can +describe the tremendous enthusiasm of that night! I shall never forget +the moment when Peter came to the front of the stage and asked the +audience if we believed in fairies. I am happy to say that I was +actually the first to respond. Leaping at once out of my seat, I shouted +"Yes--Yes!" To my intense pleasure the whole house almost instantly +followed my example, with the exception of one man. This man was sitting +directly in front of me. His lack of enthusiasm was to me incredible. +I pounded him on the back and shouted, "Great God, man, are you alive! +Wake up! Hurrah for the fairies! Hurrah!" Finally he uttered a rather +feeble "Hurrah!" Childe Roland to the dark tower came. + +That was my first meeting with that admirable statesman Woodrow Wilson, +and I am happy to state that from that night we became firm friends. +When Mr. Wilson was inaugurated in 1913 I called on him at the White +House, taking with me some members of my Yale drama class. Each one of +us had an edition of the president's admirable "History of the American +People", and I am glad to say that he was kind enough to autograph each +of the ten volumes for all of us. + +Early in Mr. Wilson's second term as president, just before the break +with Germany, I was sitting in the quiet of my library rereading +Browning's "Cristina". When I came to the third stanza I leaped to my +feet--the thing seemed incredible, but here before my eyes was actually +Browning's prophetic message to America in regard to the submarine +sinkings. + +"Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! But not so sunk that +moments--etc." It is an extraordinary evidence of the man's genius that +in 1840 he should have perhaps foreseen prophetically the happenings +of seventy-six years later! Not only did Browning seem to know what was +bound to happen, but he told us the remedy. I sat right down and wrote +to my good friend the president, enclosing a marked copy of the poem. On +the sixth of April, 1917, war was declared. + +May 7, 1912, was the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of Robert +Browning. On that memorable date I was traveling to Ohio at the request +of my dear friend Miss Jones to deliver an address at the Columbus +School for Girls. Curiously enough the name of my Pullman car was +Pauline. Not only did that strike me as remarkable, but I occupied upper +berth number 9 in car 11, two numbers which, added together, produced +the exact age at which Browning published the poem of that name. At once +I recited the opening lines, "Pauline, mine own, bend o'er me--thy soft +breast shall pant to mine--bend o'er me," to the porter. + +I like to believe that the spirit of Browning arranged that entire +journey, for the other occupant of this well-omened berth was that +admirable statesman Warren G. Harding. When I sat down I noticed that +he was reading Henry Sydnor Harrison's "Queed", a book which was justly +popular at that time. I at once showed Mr. Harding an article I had +written in which I stated that not only was "Queed" a real novel, with +a real plot, and real characters, but that I believed the readers were +stimulated by the spiritual advance of the hero. The future president +agreed with me and said he thought that literature was a great thing. +Encouraged by this I confessed that I was on my way to deliver a lecture +on modern poetry. Mr. Harding replied that he thought poetry was a great +thing. "Splendid!" I cried, and taking a copy of Browning from my bag I +read him several selections. Mr. Harding said that of the American poets +he liked James Whitcomb Riley best. Personally, while I have for Mr. +Riley only wonder and praise, I think that the English poet strikes a +more inspiring, more eternal note. + +I then read to Mr. Harding Browning's "Evelyn Hope". He said that he +knew a Mrs. Walter Hope in Marion, but that he was not sure her first +name was Evelyn. As I knew that Mr. Harding liked a good pun, I remarked +facetiously that "hope springs eternal", meaning that probably there +were in existence several families of that name. + +I am happy to state that with that meeting began a friendship which +has lasted for many years. When Mr. Harding was nominated for the +presidency, I wrote at once, enclosing a copy of "The Advance of the +English Novel" which I had published in 1916. On the title-page I wrote, +"To the Hero of a Much More Spectacular Advance", meaning that the +progress made by the English novel was as nothing compared to Mr. +Harding's rapid and well-deserved rise. In reply I received the +following: + + 6 July, 1920. MY DEAR +PROFESSOR PHELPS: + +Many thanks to you for your congratulations and your kindness in sending +me your brilliant, searching essays which I hope to be able to read in +the near future. WARREN G. HARDING. + +Just as I am always glad that I am an American, so I think we should all +believe whole-heartedly in the glorious future which lies ahead of us. +We should all pay high tribute to the ideals and sincerity of those +great leaders Woodrow Wilson and Warren Harding. What a pity that some +people believe that there is any antagonism or essential difference in +the aims of those two worthy men. Both are absolutely sincere--both +try to make the world a better, more happy place. And to the critic of +history--as to the critic of art and literature--those are the essential +things. Viewing the past and glimpsing the future of American history I +cannot help feeling that Browning had us perhaps unconsciously in mind +when he wrote: + + God's in his heaven: All's right with the world! + + + +Chapter Two + +CRISTOFER COLOMBO A Comedy of Discovery. In the Manner of James Branch +Cabell + + In fourteen hundred ninety two In the city of Genoa. + --Old Song. + +They of Genoa tell with a shrug how in the old days Cristofer Colombo +whom men called the Dreamer left Dame Colombo to go in search of the +land of his imagining. + +And the tale tells how, on a twilight Thursday, Colombo walked alone +on the edge of a doubtful wood, and viewed many things not salutary +to notice. And there came to him one who was as perversely tall as +a certain unmentionable object and bearded in a manner it is not +convenient to describe. + +But Colombo set about that which the stranger said was necessary and +when he had finished he drank the contents of the curious skull as had +been foretold on a certain All-Saints day. Then it was that the stranger +spoke. + +"Whom are you", said he, "to be thus wandering in the very unspeakable +forest of the very unnamable sorcerer Thyrston?" + +Said Colombo, "I have heard of this Thyrston. And while I do not +criticize, yet I cannot entirely agree with your improper use of the +pronoun WHOM, and oh my dear sir", said Colombo, "those two VERYS would +surely--oh, most surely--be mentioned in 'The Conning Tower'." + +"Eh!" said Thyrston, frowning. + +"I allude", said Colombo, "to the scribbling of a certain Adams with +whom you are doubtless familiar, and of course, my dear Thyrston", said +Colombo, "I spoke only jestingly, for I am Cristofer Colombo whom men +call the Dreamer, and I go in search of the land of my imagining and +it is truly a pleasure to meet the greatest sorcerer since Ckellyr, and +how", said Colombo, "is dear Mrs. Thyrston?" + +Then Thyrston showed Colombo what was written on the insecure parchment. +It frightened Colombo a little, but he assented. And when the sorcerer +had borrowed a silk hat and a gold watch he caused the skies to darken +and Colombo saw that which men refuse to believe. + +"But, oh, now really sir", said Colombo, "that is indeed extremely +clever and I do wish that the children were here to see it and would you +mind, my dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "doing that egg trick again?" + +Then Thyrston showed Colombo that he had nothing up either sleeve +and after an interval he consented to teach Colombo the secret of his +conjuring. + +"Why now to be sure", said Colombo, after he had thoroughly mastered the +trick, "that is indeed quite simple and I am sorry I broke those four +eggs by mistake in your silk hat, and while I do not wish to appear +oversensitive, do you not think, my dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "that +the trick would go just as well without those abominable jokes about +married life?" + +"My dear sir", said Thyrston, "those jokes have been used by every +conjurer since Merlin, and while perhaps without them your trick would +work, yet I have never heard of it being done and I have found", said +Thyrston, "that in sorcery the best results are obtained by doing the +customary thing." + +"Which only goes to show", said Colombo, "that sorcery is somewhat akin +to business, and now that I think of it", said Colombo, "I believe that +the term wizard of industry is perhaps not entirely a misnomer." + +Thus it was that Colombo took leave of Thyrston, and the tale tells +how on Walburga's Eve he came to the court of King Ferdinand and Queen +Isabel. And as he entered one met him who was not unpleasing to the eye, +and she was weeping. And, as it was somewhat dark, Colombo decided to +comfort her. + +"Now, do you tell me, my dear", said Colombo, after an interval, "why +it is you weep, for I am Colombo whom men call the Dreamer, and I go in +search of the land of my imagining, and I think", said Colombo, "that +you have most remarkably lovely eyes." + +"Oh messire", said the lady, "I weep because it is this evening that +I am to entertain the ladies of our Progress Literary Club, and Donna +Margarita whom men call the Spanish Omelet, but who really, messire, has +a lovely voice, was going to sing 'The Rosary' and now she has a cold +and cannot sing, and King Ferdinand is coming, and oh, messire, what", +said the lady, "shall I do?" + +"Why now, truly", said Colombo, "in Genoa it was the judgment of all the +really musically intelligent ladies, except perhaps my wife, that I sang +not an unpleasing baritone, and while I do not know the song to which +you refer, yet I have devoted most of my life to the composition of a +poem concerning the land of my imagining which might well be sung and +besides that", said Colombo, "I can do a most remarkable egg trick." + +So it was that Colombo became for a short time not undeservedly the life +of the Progress Literary Club party. And the tale tells how, after a +paper by Donna Violet Balboa on "Spanish Architecture--Then and Now", +Colombo sang to them the song of the land of Colombo's imagining. And +poignantly beautiful was the song, for in it was the beauty of a poet's +dream, and the eternal loveliness of that vision which men have glimpsed +in all ages if ever so faintly. And when he had finished, the eyes of +Colombo were wet with tears, for into this poem had he woven the +dreams of his disillusionment. And somewhat ironical to Colombo was the +applause of those fine ladies who did not at all understand. + +"Now that is a pretty song", said King Ferdinand, "and do you tell us, +Colombo, how one may get to this land, so that I may extend the borders +of my most Catholic Kingdom and spread the teachings of the true faith, +for to bring the world under the blessed influence of my religion is my +only purpose, and really now", said King Ferdinand, "is there as much +gold there as you describe?" + +"Ah, King Ferdinand", replied Colombo, "there is more gold than ever I +can tell, and I see only too plainly how grievously you suffer to think +that perhaps these people are living in ignorance of the true faith. +And I could ask nothing better than that King Ferdinand give me ships +in which I may sail to the westward and come at last to the land of my +imagining. This I would do in order that the blessed soldiers of +King Ferdinand who will follow me may show to the inhabitants of my +discovered land the grievous errors of their ways and bring them at last +to a realization of the true faith which has been so helpful to our own +dear Spain, and", added Colombo, "our gracious sovereign Ferdinand." + +And droll it was to Colombo to think what might possibly happen were +King Ferdinand to take his dream seriously or were the King perhaps to +be informed as to the true meaning of Colombo's subtleties. + +"Well, now", said King Ferdinand, "of course, to fit out such an +expedition would require great expense, my dear Colombo--great +expense. And, of course, you know, Colombo, that when investors can buy +Inquisition 4 1/4's for 89 it would be extremely difficult to raise the +money for such a speculative project--oh, extremely difficult. And then +you must consider the present depression--tell me now, Colombo", said +King Ferdinand, "how long do you think this depression will last, for I +seek, above all things, a return to healthy normalcy." + +"Well, truly", replied Colombo, "that would be most difficult to say. I +note that on Rodigruez Babsyn's last chart--" + +"I wish this Babsyn and his charts were in hell", said King Ferdinand, +"for it was he who advised me to sell Queen Isabel's silver holdings. +But it occurs to me, Colombo, that in connection with this land-of-gold +scheme of yours, you mentioned something about sailing to the westward. +Now Colombo, that would be a distinct disadvantage when it came to +marketing the bonds, for as you must already know, one cannot sail to +the west without encountering fierce and enormous monsters who swallow, +I am told, whole ships at a gulp." + +"Now as to that", said Colombo, somewhat embarrassed at the turn of the +conversation for WEST had merely happened to better suit the rhymes of +his poem, "you may be right, and I should not go so far as to say you +are wrong, but still at the same time", said Colombo, "is there any +gentleman in the audience who can lend me an egg and a silk hat?" + +And when an unmentionable egg and a doubtful silk hat had been produced +in a manner which it is not convenient to mention Colombo rolled up both +his sleeves and spoke the magic speech as he had learned it on a certain +Thursday from the sorcerer Thyrston. + +"Ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I have here a common household +egg which I shall now ask the ushers to pass among you so you may see +for yourself that there are no wires or strings attached. While this is +being done, ladies and gentlemen, I wish that three of you would step up +on the stage. Any three--don't be bashful girls--I won't hurt you. Won't +that couple over there kindly oblige me--that married couple--no, folks, +I guess they aren't married either--they look too happy." + +Very painful it was to Colombo to hear these horrible jokes coming +from his mouth, but Thyrston had quoted the authority of all successful +sorcerers and not for anything would Colombo have had his trick a +failure. + +"Now ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I am going to ask this lady +and these two gentlemen if they will be so good as to see if they can +take this little egg and make it stand on end without any support." + +And very droll it was to see the unsuccessful attempts which the three +made. Finally Colombo said: + +"Now ladies and gentlemen, I want you to watch me closely. I put the +silk hat on my head--thus. And I take the egg in my right hand--thus. +Now, if this young lady will be kind enough to hold my left hand--I hope +that her best fellow doesn't mind letting such a pretty girl hold my +hand--it's lucky my wife can't see me, though--a friend said to me the +other day, 'Who was that lady I seen you with?' and I said, 'That wasn't +no lady, that was my wife'. Now ladies and gentlemen I take this egg, +and in order to make it stand upright I tap one end gently--thus against +the table until that end is flattened--and then, presto--the egg stands +upright. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you one and all for your kind +attention." + +Thus it was that Colombo impressed King Ferdinand and his court with his +profound knowledge of geography. Next the tale tells how there came to +Colombo on Michaelmas Eve one sent by Queen Isabel, And when Colombo had +buckled on his sword Impavide he followed the messenger through winding +corridors and came at last to the chamber of the Queen. And as he knelt +before her it seemed to Colombo that never before had he seen such +unforgettable beauty as shone in the eyes of Queen Isabel. Yes, truly, +this was the loveliest girl that Colombo had ever imagined. + +"Now do you rise", said she, "and you and I shall have a nice chat alone +here together, and you can tell me all about geography of which I am +oh, frightfully ignorant. In truth", said she, "I have tried to +get Ferdinand to instruct me, but I fear", said Queen Isabel, "that +Ferdinand does not understand me." + +So Colombo instructed Queen Isabel in the fundamentals of geography. And +after a while he spoke. + +"Now many people", said Colombo, "believe that the earth is flat, but", +said Colombo, "such is not at all the case." + +And after an interval Colombo said, "There, my dear, do you not see how +ridiculous it is to suppose that the earth is anything but round?" + +"Why surely, sire", said Queen Isabel, "you make it appear very round. +And I wonder that I had not thought of that before. And I think", said +Queen Isabel, "that geography is a most fascinating subject and oh, +messire Colombo", said the Queen, "you must come and instruct me often." + +Thus it was that Colombo became Royal Geographer. And the tale tells how +after a while various whisperings came to King Ferdinand of his queen's +curious enthusiasm for study. + +"Now about this geography", said King Ferdinand one evening to the +Queen, "I am, my dear, indeed glad to see you take an interest in such +an important study and I have arranged", said the King, "to have your +tutoring in the future done by Father Bernadino who has had fifty-two +years' experience at the University, and your lessons", said the King, +"will commence tomorrow." + +Said the Queen, "How can I thank you enough, dear Ferdinand, for your +untiring interest in my welfare. For I have been struggling along in +my study of geography with a horribly dull clod whose name", said the +Queen, "I cannot remember." + +"Was it, by any chance, Colombo?" asked the King. + +"Perhaps", said the Queen. "But I am oh so glad to be rid of him." And +indeed so great was the happiness of Queen Isabel that her pillow that +night was wet with tears. + +But King Ferdinand was an unusually efficient king, and he spared no +pains in his craving for normalcy. So it was that the next day he called +to him the man who had chanced to be Royal Geographer before the coup +d'oeuf of Colombo. + +"Now tell me", said the King, "is there any chance that a man who sails +to the westward will ever return?" + +"None, your Majesty", said the ex-Royal Geographer. "For many have tried +and horrible are the tales which they tell of demons and monsters lying +in wait for the ships of men. And I should say definitely, oh King", +said he, "that whoever sails to the westward will never return." + +And the tale tells how that afternoon Colombo stood before King +Ferdinand. And very strange to Colombo was the enthusiasm which burned +in the King's otherwise somewhat fishlike eye. + +"For know you, Colombo", the King was saying, "that God has spoken to me +and commanded me to save from the fires of hell the inhabitants of those +golden lands of which you sang. And to you, my dear Colombo, is to +be given the chance which you so ardently desire. For I have this day +purchased three ships which await your command, and within a week you +should be well on your way on this glorious mission for God and for +Spain, and", said the King, "I might add that the Queen, too, is much +interested in this voyage and has even been persuaded to dispose of her +jewels in order that you may make haste." + +"Such instant obedience to the will of God", said Colombo, "and such +fine enthusiasm to further His kingdom on earth, does your Majesties +great credit. And I shall indeed congratulate the inhabitants of this +to-be-discovered land for their good fortune in obtaining such a devout +King." + +And the tale tells how that night Colombo took leave of Queen Isabel. +"Now do not weep, oh Queen", said he, "for I am only Colombo whom men +call the Dreamer, and I go in search of the land of my imagining, and +perhaps", said Colombo, "I shall return." But they tell how Queen Isabel +refused to be comforted for many and many a day. And unexplainably +curious to Father Bernadino was his absolute and complete failure as +a royal instructor in geography, for Father Bernadino had taught for +fifty-two years at the University. + +And so it was that Colombo sat alone in the cabin of the ship which +carried him towards the land of his imagining. And strange and somewhat +fearsome it was to the sailors to see their captain sitting thus +motionless night after night, for already had they left the Canaries far +behind and some there were who said that a madman commanded their ship, +and others who whispered of horrible monsters in these western seas. + +And the tale tells how one night Colombo observed across his table +one who had not been sitting there a moment before and whose hair was +strangely red. + +"Well now, truly, sir", said Colombo, "This is very curious. For I do +not remember seeing you among the crew nor were you ever at the court, +and on the whole", said Colombo, "your red hair and your sneering grin +interrupt my dreams, and dreams", said Colombo, "are all that I have +left." + +"For know you, sir", continued he to the stranger who did not speak, +"that on this earth man has been able to endure only by playing the ape +to his dreams. And in every generation", said Colombo, "there have been +those who dreamed of beautiful things and in every age there have been +those who caught some glimpse of that perfect beauty which the Greeks +call Helen, and to have seen Helen", said Colombo, "is to have been +touched with divine and unbearable madness." + +And it became strangely quiet in the cabin as Colombo continued: + +"And those authors who wrote perfectly of beautiful dreams", said he, +"will, perchance, endure, and those who saw only men as they are, will +perish--for so has it been in the past and so will it be in the future. +All of which", said Colombo, "is a rather tiresome and pedantic excuse +for the fact that I am about to read you my own poem." + +And Colombo read to the stranger the dream of the land of Colombo's +imagining, and when he had finished the stranger smiled and shook his +head sadly. + +"Come, now," said Colombo, somewhat hurt. "Do not, I pray you, pretend +to like it unless you really do. Of course it is not at all the kind of +thing that will sell, is it--and the metre must be patched up in places, +don't you think? And some of the most beautiful passages would never be +permitted by the censor--but still--" and Colombo paused hopefully, for +it was Colombo's poem and into it he had poured the heart of his life +and it seemed to him now, more than ever, a beautiful thing. + +The stranger handed Colombo a book. + +"There", said he, "is the land of your imagining", and in his eyes +gleamed a curious sardonic mockery. + +And Colombo read the book. And when he had finished his face was grey +as are old ashes in ancient urns, and about the mouth of him whom men +called the Dreamer were curious hard lines. + +"Now, by Heaven", said Colombo brandishing his sword Impavide, "you lie. +And your Gopher Prairie is a lie. And you are all, all contemptible, +you who dip your pens in tracing ink and seek to banish beautiful dreams +from the world." + +But the red-haired stranger had vanished and Colombo found that he was +alone and to Colombo the world seemed cheerless and as a place that none +has lived in for a long time. + +"Now this is curious", mused Colombo, "for I have evidently been +dreaming and a more horrible dream have I never had, and I think", said +Colombo, "that while all this quite certainly did not actually take +place, yet that grinning red head has upset me horribly and on the +whole", said Colombo, "I believe the safest course would be to put back +at once for Spain, for certainly I have no desire to take the remotest +chance of discovering anything which may in the least resemble that +Gopher Prairie." + +And the tale tells that as Colombo started for the deck in order that +he might give the signal for the return to Spain, there came across the +water from one of the other ships the faint cry of a sailor. And the +sailor was waving his hat and shouting, "Land Ho!" + +Thus it was that Cristofer Colombo became the discoverer of the land of +his imagining, and as he stood on the deck Colombo mused. + +"Now this is a sorrowful jest and a very unfair jest that is happening," +said he. "For I who have dreamed a beautiful dream of the land of my +imagining will quite probably henceforth be known only as the discoverer +of what will turn out to be merely one more hideous and stupid country." +And tears came to the eyes of Colombo, for on the waves behind him +floated the torn and scattered pages of the poem which sang the imagined +vision of Beauty of him whom men long and long ago called the Dreamer. + +Thus it was in the old days. + + +ANALYSIS AND SUMMARY OF THE FOREGOING ARTICLE In the Manner of Dr. Frank +Crane + +There is a lesson for us all in this beautiful story of how Columbus +realized his ambition to be a great discoverer. + +Men called Columbus a Dreamer--but that is just what folks once said +about Thomas A. Edison and Henry Ford. + +The world has a place for Dreamers--if they are Practical Dreamers. + +Columbus was ambitious. Ambition is a great thing if it is unselfish +ambition. By unselfish I mean for the greatest good of the greatest +number. Shakespeare, the great teacher, shows us in "Macbeth" what +happens to the selfishly ambitious man. + +Columbus got ahead by paying attention to small details. Whatever he +did, he did to the best of his ability. Even when engaged in teaching +geography to the Queen, Columbus was the best geography teacher he knew +how to be. And before long he was made Royal Geographer. + +In our daily lives let us all resolve to be good teachers of geography. +We may not all become Royal Geographers--but there will be to us the +lasting satisfaction of having done our best. And that, as a greater +than I has said, is "more precious than rubies--yea, than much fine +gold". + + + +Chapter Three + +MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass. + +In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis + +I + +1620. + +Late autumn. + +The sour liver-colored shores of America. + +Breaking waves dashing too high on a stern and rockbound coast. + +Woods tossing giant branches planlessly against a stormy sky. + +Cape Cod Bay--wet and full of codfish. The codfish--wet and full of +bones. + +Standing on the deck of the anchored "Mayflower", gazing reflectively at +the shores of the new world, is Priscilla Kennicott. + +A youthful bride on a ship full of pilgrims; a lily floating in a dish +of prunes; a cloissone vase in a cargo of oil cans. + +Her husband joins her. Together they go forward to where their fellow +pilgrims are preparing to embark in small boats. + +Priscilla jumps into the bow of the first of these to shove off. + +As the small craft bumps the shore, Priscilla rises joyously. She +stretches her hands in ecstasy toward the new world. She leans forward +against the breeze, her whole figure alive with the joy of expectant +youth. + +She leaps with an irrepressible "Yippee" from the boat to the shore. + +She remains for an instant, a vibrant pagan, drunk with the joy of life; +Pan poised for an unforgettable moment on Plymouth Rock. + +The next minute her foot slips on the hard, wet, unyielding stone. +She clutches desperately. She slides slowly back into the cold chill +saltness of Cape Cod Bay. + +She is pulled, dripping and ashamed, into the boat. She crouches there, +shivering and hopeless. She hears someone whisper, "Pride goeth before +destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." + +A coarse mirthless chuckle. + +The pilgrims disembark. + +II + +Plymouth. + +A year later. + +Night. + +She lay sleepless on her bed. + +She heard the outside door open; Kennicott returning from prayer +meeting. + +He sat down on the bed and began pulling off his boots. She knew that +the left boot would stick. She knew exactly what he would say and how +long it would take him to get it off. She rolled over in bed, a tactical +movement which left no blanket for her husband. + +"You weren't at prayer meeting," he said. + +"I had a headache," she lied. He expressed no sympathy. + +"Miles Standish was telling me what you did today at the meeting of the +Jolly Seventeen." He had got the boot off at last; he lay down beside +her and pulled all the blankets off her onto himself. + +"That was kind of Miles." She jerked at the covers but he held them +tight. "What charming story did he tell this time?" + +"Now look here, Prissie--Miles Standish isn't given to fabrication. He +said you told the Jolly Seventeen that next Thanksgiving they ought to +give a dance instead of an all-day prayer service." + +"Well--anything else?" She gave a tremendous tug at the bedclothes and +Kennicott was uncovered again. + +"He said you suggested that they arrange a series of lectures on modern +religions, and invite Quakers and other radicals to speak right here in +Plymouth and tell us all about their beliefs. And not only that but he +said you suggested sending a message to the Roman Catholic exiles from +England, inviting them to make their home with us. You must have made +quite a little speech." + +"Well this is the land of religious freedom, isn't it? That's what +you came here for, didn't you?" She sat up to deliver this remark--a +movement which enabled Kennicott to win back seven-eighths of the bed +covering. + +"Now look here Prissie--I'm not narrow like some of these pilgrims who +came over with us. But I won't have my wife intimating that a Roman +Catholic or a Quaker should be allowed to spread his heresies broadcast +in this country. It's all right for you and me to know something about +those things, but we must protect our children and those who have not +had our advantages. The only way to meet this evil is to stamp it +out, quick, before it can get a start. And it's just such so-called +broadminded thinkers as you that encourage these heretics. You'll be +criticizing the Bible next, I suppose." + +Thus in early times did the pious Right Thinkers save the land from +Hellfire and Damnation; thus the great-grandfathers of middle-western +congressmen; thus the ancestors of platitudinous editorial writers, +Sitters on Committees, and tin-horn prohibitionists. + +Kennicott got up to cool his wrath and indignation with a drink of +water. He stumbled over a chair, reached for the jug, took a drink, set +the jug down, stumbled over the same chair, and crawled back into bed. +His expedition cost him the loss of all bed covering; he gave up the +fight. + +"Aside from dragging my own private views over the coals of your +righteousness, did you and your friends find anything equally pleasant +and self-satisfying to discuss this evening?" + +"Eh--what's that? Why, yes, we did. We decided to refuse permission for +one of these traveling medicine shows to operate in Plymouth." + +"Medicine shows?" + +"Yes--you know--like a fair in England. This one claims to come from +down south somewhere. 'Smart Set Medicine Show' it's called, run by +a fellow named Mencken. Sells cheap whisky to the Indians--makes them +crazy, they say. He's another one of your radical friends we don't want +around." + +"Yes, he might cut in on your own trading with the Indians." + +"Oh, for heaven's sake, Prissie--hire a hall." + +Silence. He began to snore. + +She lay there, sleepless and open-eyed. The clock struck eleven. + +"Why can't I get to sleep?" + +("Did Will put the cat out?") + +"I wonder what this medicine show is like?" + +"What is the matter with these people?" + +("Or is it me?") + +She reached down, pulled the blankets from under her, spread them +carefully over the sleeping Kennicott, patting them down affectionately. + +The next day she learned what the medicine show was like. She also +learned what was the matter with the pilgrims. + +III + +Morning. + +A fog horn. + +A fog horn blowing unceasingly. + +At breakfast Kennicott pointed with his fork in the direction of the +persistent sound. + +"There's your Smart Set medicine show," he said glumly. "He doesn't seem +to care much whether we give him a permit or not." Then, a minute later, +"We'll have to let him stay. Won't do to have the Indians down on us. +But I tell you this, Priscilla, I don't want you to go." + +"But Will--" + +"Prissie, please! I'm sorry I said what I did last night. I was tired. +But don't you see, well, I can't just exactly explain--but this fog horn +sort of scares me--I don't like it--" + +He suddenly rose and put both hands on her shoulders. He looked into her +eyes. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He picked up his +hat and was gone. It was five minutes before Priscilla noticed that his +breakfast had been left untouched. + +A fog horn, sounding unceasingly. + +She listlessly put away the breakfast dishes. She tried to drown out +the sound by singing hymns. She fell on her knees and tried to pray. She +found her prayers keeping time to the rise and fall of the notes of that +horn. She determined to go out in the air--to find her husband--to go to +church, anywhere--as far as possible from the Smart Set medicine show. + +So she went out the back door and ran as fast as she could toward the +place from which came the sound of the fog horn. + +IV + +An open space on the edge of the forest. + +In the centre of the clearing a small gaudily-painted tent. + +Seated on the ground in a semicircle before the tent, some forty or +fifty Indians. + +Standing on a box before the entrance to the tent, a man of twenty-five +or fifty. + +In his left hand he holds a fog horn; in his right, a stein of beer. + +He puts the horn to his lips and blows heavy blast. + +He bellows, "Beauty--Beauty--Beauty!" + +He takes a drink of beer. + +He repeats this performance nine times. + +He takes up some mud and deftly models the features of several +well-known characters--statesmen, writers, critics. In many cases +the resemblance is so slight that Priscilla can hardly recognize the +character. + +He picks up a heavy club and proceeds to beat each one of his modeled +figures into a pulp. + +The Indians applaud wildly. + +He pays no attention to this applause. + +He clears his throat and begins to speak. Priscilla is so deafened by +the roar of his voice that she cannot hear what he says. Apparently he +is introducing somebody; somebody named George. + +George steps out of the tent, but does not bow to the audience. In +one hand he carries a fencing foil, well constructed, of European +workmanship; in his other hand he holds a number of pretty toy balloons +which he has made himself. + +He smiles sarcastically, tosses the balloons into the air, and cleverly +punctures them one by one with his rapier. + +At each "pop" the announcer blows a loud blast on the fog horn. + +When the last balloon has been punctured George retires without +acknowledging the applause of the Indians. + +The next act is announced as Helen of Troy in "Six Minutes of Beauty". +Priscilla learns from the announcer that "this little lady is out of +'Irony' by Theodore Dreiser". + +"All ready, Helen--" + +The "little lady" appears. + +She is somewhat over six feet six in height and built like a +boilermaker. She is dressed in pink tights. + +"Six Minutes of Beauty" begins when Helen picks up three large iron +cannon balls and juggles them. She tosses them in the air and catches +them cleverly on the back of her neck. + +The six minutes are brought to a successful conclusion when Helen, +hanging head downward by one foot from a trapeze, balances lighted lamp +on the other foot and plays Beethoven's Fifth Symphony on the slide +trombone. + +The announcer then begins his lecture. Priscilla has by this time gotten +used to the overpowering roar of his voice and she discovers that once +this difficulty is overcome she is tremendously impressed by his words. + +She becomes more and more attracted to the man. She listens, fascinated, +as his lecture draws to a close and he offers his medicine for sale. She +presses forward through the crowd of Indians surrounding the stand. She +reaches the tent. She gives her coin and receives in return a bottle. +She hides it in her cape and hurries home. + +She slips in the back way; she pours some of the medicine into a glass; +she drinks it. + +V + +A terrible overwhelming nausea. Vomiting, which lasts for agonizing +minutes, leaving her helpless on the floor. + +Then cessation. + +Then light--blinding light. + +VI + +At 3:10 Priscilla drank the Mencken medicine; at 3:12 she was lying in +agony on the floor; at 3:20 she opened her eyes; at 3:21 she walked +out of her front door; and at 3:22 she discovered what was wrong with +Plymouth and the pilgrims. + +Main Street. Straight and narrow. A Puritan thoroughfare in a Puritan +town. + +The church. A centre of Puritan worship. The shrine of a narrow theology +which persistently repressed beauty and joy and life. + +The Miles Standish house. The house of a Puritan. A squat, unlovely +symbol of repression. Beauty crushed by Morality. + +Plymouth Rock. Hard, unyielding--like the Puritan moral code. A huge +tombstone on the grave of Pan. + +She fled home. She flung herself, sobbing, on the bed. She cried, +"They're all Puritans that's what they are, Puritans!" + +After a while she slept, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating +unnaturally. + +VII + +Late that night. + +She opened her eyes; she heard men's voices; she felt her heart still +pounding within her at an alarming rate. + +"And I told them then that it would come to no good end. Truly, the Lord +does not countenance such joking." + +She recognized the voices of Miles Standish and Elder Brewster. + +"Well--what happened then?" This from Kennicott. + +"Well, you see, Henry Haydock got some of this Mencken's medicine from +one of the Indians. And he thought it would be a good joke to put it in +the broth at the church supper this evening." + +"Yes?" + +"Well--he did it, the fool. And when the broth was served, hell on +earth broke loose. Everyone started calling his neighbor a Puritan, and +cursing him for having banished Beauty from the earth. The Lord knows +what they meant by that; I don't. Old friends fought like wildcats, +shrieking 'Puritan' at each other. Luckily it only got to one table--but +there are ten raving lunatics in the lockup tonight. + +"It's an awful thing. But thanks to the Lord, some good has come out of +this evil: that medicine man, Mencken, was standing outside looking in +at the rumpus, smiling to himself I guess. Well, somebody saw him and +yelled, 'There's another of those damned Puritans!' and before he could +get away five of them had jumped on him and beaten him to death. He +deserved it, and it's a good joke on him that they killed him for being +a Puritan." + +Priscilla could stand no more. She rose from her bed, rushed into the +room, and faced the three Puritans. In the voice of Priscilla Kennicott +but with the words of the medicine man she scourged them. + +"A good joke?" she began. "And that is what you Puritan gentlemen of God +and volcanoes of Correct Thought snuffle over as a good joke? Well, +with the highest respect to Professor Doctor Miles Standish, the Puritan +Hearse-hound, and Professor Doctor Elder Brewster, the Plymouth Dr. +Frank Crane--BLAA!" + +She shrieked this last in their faces and fell lifeless at their feet. + +She never recovered consciousness; an hour later she died. An overdose +of the medicine had been too much for her weak heart. + +"Poor William," comforted Elder Brewster, "you must be brave. You will +miss her sorely. But console yourself with the thought that it was for +the best. Priscilla has gone where she will always be happy. She has at +last found that bliss which she searched for in vain on earth." + +"Yes William," added Miles Standish. "Priscilla has now found eternal +joy." + +VIII + +Heaven. + +Smug saints with ill-fitting halos and imitation wings, singing +meaningless hymns which Priscilla had heard countless times before. + +Sleek prosaic angels flying aimlessly around playing stale songs on +sickly yellow harps. + +Three of the harps badly out of tune; two strings missing on another. + +Moses, a Jew. + +Methuselah, another Jew. Old and unshaven. + +Priscilla threw herself on a cloud, sobbing. + +"Well, sister, what seems to be the matter here?" + +She looked up; she saw a sympathetic stranger looking down at her. + +"Because you know, sister," he went on, "if you don't like it here you +can always go back any time you want to." + +"Do you mean to say," gasped Priscilla, "that I can return to earth?" + +"You certainly can," said the stranger. "I'm sort of manager here, and +whenever you see any particular part of the earth you'd like to live in, +you just let me know and I'll arrange it." + +He smiled and was gone. + +IX + +It was two hundred years before Priscilla Kennicott definitely decided +that she could stand it no longer in heaven; it was another hundred +years before she located a desirable place on earth to return to. + +She finally selected a small town in the American northwest, far from +the Puritan-tainted Plymouth; a small town in the midst of fields of +beautiful waving grain; a small town free from the artificiality of +large cities; a small town named Gopher Prairie. + +She made known her desire to the manager; she said goodby to a small +group of friends who had gathered to see her off; she heard the sound +of the eternal harp playing and hymn singing grow gradually fainter and +fainter; she closed her eyes. + +When she opened them again she found herself on Main Street in Gopher +Prairie. + +X + +From the "Heavenly Harp and Trumpet": + +Mrs. Priscilla Kennicott, one of our most popular angels, left these +parts last Tuesday for an extended visit to the Earth. Mrs. K. confided +to Ye Editor that she would probably take up her residence in Gopher +Prairie, Minn., under the name of Carol Kennicott. The "Harp and +Trumpet" felicitates the citizens of Gopher Prairie on their acquisition +of a charming and up-to-date young matron whose absence will be keenly +regretted by her many friends in the heavenly younger married set. Good +luck, Priscilla! + +XI + +Heaven. + +Five years later. + +The monthly meeting of the Celestial Browning Club. + +Seated in the chair reserved for the guest of honor, the manager. + +The meeting opens as usual with a reading by Brother Robert Browning +of his poem "Pippa Passes"; as he proclaims that "God's in his heaven, +all's right with the world", the members applaud and the manager rises +and bows. + +The chairman announces that "today we take up a subject in which I am +sure we are all extremely interested--the popular literature of the +United States". + +The members listen to selected extracts from the writings of Gene +Stratton-Porter, Zane Grey, and Harold Bell Wright; at the conclusion +they applaud and the manager again bows. + +"I am sure", says the chairman, "that we are all glad to hear that +things are going so nicely in the United States." (Applause.) "And now, +in conclusion, Brother Voltaire has requested permission to address us +for a few minutes, and I am sure that anything Brother Voltaire has to +say will be eminently worthwhile." + +Brother Voltaire rises and announces that he has listened with interest +to the discussion of American literature; that he, too, rejoices that +all is well in this best of all possible United States; and that he +hopes they will pardon him if he supplements the program by reading +a few extracts from another extremely popular American book recently +published under the name of "Main Street". + +XII + +At the next meeting of the Celestial Browning Club it was unanimously +voted that the privileges of the club be denied Brother Voltaire for the +period of one year, and that the name of Priscilla Kennicott be stricken +from the list of non-resident members of heaven. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH + +In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald + +This story occurs under the blue skies and bluer laws of Puritan New +England, in the days when religion was still taken seriously by a great +many people, and in the town of Plymouth where the "Mayflower", having +ploughed its platitudinous way from Holland, had landed its precious +cargo of pious Right Thinkers, moral Gentlemen of God, and--Priscilla. + +Priscilla was--well, Priscilla had yellow hair. In a later generation, +in a 1921 June, if she had toddled by at a country club dance you would +have noticed first of all that glorious mass of bobbed corn-colored +locks. You would, then, perhaps, have glanced idly at her face, and +suddenly said "Oh my gosh!" The next moment you would have clutched the +nearest stag and hissed, "Quick--yellow hair--silver dress--oh Judas!" +You would then have been introduced, and after dancing nine feet +you would have been cut in on by another panting stag. In those nine +delirious feet you would have become completely dazed by one of the +smoothest lines since the building of the Southern Pacific. You would +then have borrowed somebody's flask, gone into the locker room and +gotten an edge--not a bachelor-dinner edge but just enough to give +you the proper amount of confidence. You would have returned to the +ballroom, cut in on this twentieth century Priscilla, and taken her and +your edge out to a convenient limousine, or the first tee. + +It was of some such yellow-haired Priscilla that Homer dreamed when he +smote his lyre and chanted, "I sing of arms and the man"; it was at the +sight of such as she that rare Ben Johnson's Dr. Faustus cried, "Was +this the face that launched a thousand ships?" In all ages has such +beauty enchanted the minds of men, calling forth in one century the +Fiesolian terza rima of "Paradise Lost", in another the passionate arias +of a dozen Beethoven symphonies. In 1620 the pagan daughter of Helen of +Troy and Cleopatra of the Nile happened, by a characteristic jest of the +great Ironist, to embark with her aunt on the "Mayflower". + +Like all girls of eighteen Priscilla had learned to kiss and be kissed +on every possible occasion; in the exotic and not at all uncommon +pleasure of "petting" she had acquired infinite wisdom and complete +disillusionment. But in all her "petting parties" on the "Mayflower" and +in Plymouth she had found no Puritan who held her interest beyond the +first kiss, and she had lately reverted in sheer boredom to her boarding +school habit of drinking gin in large quantities, a habit which was not +entirely approved of by her old-fashioned aunt, although Mrs. Brewster +was glad to have her niece stay at home in the evenings "instead", as +she told Mrs. Bradford, "of running around with those boys, and really, +my dear, Priscilla says some of the FUNNIEST things when she gets a +little er--'boiled', as she calls it--you must come over some evening, +and bring the governor." + +Mrs. Brewster, Priscilla's aunt, is the ancestor of all New England +aunts. She may be seen today walking down Tremont Street, Boston, in +her Educator shoes on her way to S. S. Pierce's which she pronounces +to rhyme with HEARSE. The twentieth century Mrs. Brewster wears a +highnecked black silk waist with a chatelaine watch pinned over her left +breast and a spot of Gordon's codfish (no bones) over her right. When +a little girl she was taken to see Longfellow, Lowell, and Ralph Waldo +Emerson; she speaks familiarly of the James boys, but this has no +reference to the well-known Missouri outlaws. She was brought up on +blueberry cake, Postum and "The Atlantic Monthly"; she loves the Boston +"Transcript", God, and her relatives in Newton Centre. Her idea of a +daring joke is the remark Susan Hale made to Edward Everett Hale about +sending underwear to the heathen. She once asked Donald Ogden Stewart +to dinner with her niece; she didn't think his story about the lady +mind reader who read the man's mind and then slapped his face, was very +funny; she never asked him again. + +The action of this story all takes place in MRS. BREWSTER'S Plymouth +home on two successive June evenings. As the figurative curtain rises +MRS. BREWSTER is sitting at a desk reading the latest instalment of +Foxe's "Book of Martyrs". + +The sound of a clanking sword is heard outside. MRS. BREWSTER looks up, +smiles to herself, and goes on reading. A knock--a timid knock. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Come in. + +(Enter CAPTAIN MIKES STANDISH, whiskered and forty. In a later +generation, with that imposing mustache and his hatred of Indians, +Miles would undoubtedly have been a bank president. At present he seems +somewhat ill at ease, and obviously relieved to find only PRISCILLA'S +aunt at home.) + +MRS. BREWSTER: Good evening, Captain Standish. + +MILES: Good evening, Mrs. Brewster. It's--it's cool for June, isn't it? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Yes. I suppose we'll pay, for it with a hot July, though. + +MILES (nervously): Yes, but it--it is cool for June, isn't it? + +MRS. BREWSTER: So you said, Captain. + +MILES: Yes. So I said, didn't I? (Silence.) + +MILES: Mistress Priscilla isn't home, then? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Why, I don't think so, Captain But I never can be sure +where Priscilla is. + +MILES (eagerly): She's a--a fine girl, isn't she? A fine girl. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Why, yes. Of course, Priscilla has her faults but she'd +make some man a fine wife--some man who knew how to handle her--an older +man, with experience. + +MILES: Do you really think so, Mrs. Brewster? (After a minute.) Do you +think Priscilla is thinking about marrying anybody in particular? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Well, I can't say, Captain. You know--she's a little +wild. Her mother was wild, too, you know--that is, before the Lord spoke +to her. They say she used to be seen at the Mermaid Tavern in London +with all those play-acting people. She always used to say that Priscilla +would marry a military man. + +MILES: A military man? Well, now tell me Mrs. Brewster, do you think +that a sweet delicate creature like Priscilla-- + +A VOICE (in the next room): Oh DAMN! + +MRS. BREWSTER: That must be Priscilla now. + +THE VOICE: Auntie! + +MRS. BREWSTER: Yes, Priscilla dear. + +THE VOICE: Where in hell did you put the vermouth? + +MRS. BREWSTER: In the cupboard, dear. I do hope you aren't going to +get--er--"boiled" again tonight, Priscilla. (Enter PRISCILLA, infinitely +radiant, infinitely beautiful, with a bottle of vermouth in one hand and +a jug of gin in the other.) PRISCILLA: Auntie, that was a dirty trick to +hide the vermouth. Hello Miles--shoot many Indians today? + +MILES: Why--er er--no, Mistress Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Wish you'd take me with you next time, Miles. I'd love to +shoot an Indian, wouldn't you, auntie? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! What an idea! And please dear, give Auntie +Brewster the gin. I--er--promised to take some to the church social +tonight and it's almost all gone now. + +MILES: I didn't see you at church last night, Mistress Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Well I'll tell you, Miles. I started to go to church--really +felt awfully religious. But just as I was leaving I thought, "Priscilla, +how about a drink--just one little drink?" You know, Miles, church +goes so much better when you're just a little boiled--the lights and +everything just kind of--oh, its glorious. Well last night, after I'd +had a little liquor, the funniest thing happened. I felt awfully good, +not like church at all--so I just thought I'd take a walk in the woods. +And I came to a pool--a wonderful honest-to-God pool--with the moon +shining right into the middle of it. So I just undressed and dove in and +it was the most marvelous thing in the world. And then I danced on the +bank in the grass and the moonlight--oh, Lordy, Miles, you ought to have +seen me. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! + +PRISCILLA: 'Scuse me, Auntie Brewster. And then I just lay in the grass +and sang and laughed. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Dear, you'll catch your death of cold one of these +nights. I hope you'll excuse me, Captain Standish; it's time I was going +to our social. I'll leave Priscilla to entertain you. Now be a good +girl, Priscilla, and please dear don't drink straight vermouth--remember +what happened last time. Good night, Captain--good night, dear. + +(Exit MRS. BREWSTER with gin.) + +PRISCILLA: Oh damn! What'll we do, Miles--I'm getting awfully sleepy. + +MILES: Why--we might--er--pet a bit. + +PRISCILLA (yawning): No. I'm too tired--besides, I hate whiskers. + +MILES: Yes, that's so, I remember. (Ten minutes' silence, with MILES +looking sentimentally into the fireplace, PRISCILLA curled up in a chair +on the other side.) + +MILES: I was--your aunt and I--we were talking about you before you came +in. It was a talk that meant a lot to me. + +PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind closing that window? + +(MILES closes the window and returns to his chair by the fireplace.) + +MILES: And your aunt told me that your mother said you would some day +marry a military man. + +PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind passing me that pillow over there? + +(MILES gets up, takes the pillow to PRISCILLA and again sits down.) + +MILES: And I thought that if you wanted a military man why--well, I've +always thought a great deal of you, Mistress Priscilla--and since my +Rose died I've been pretty lonely, and while I'm nothing but a rough +old soldier yet--well, what I'm driving at is--you see, maybe you and I +could sort of--well, I'm not much of a hand at fancy love speeches and +all that--but-- + +(He is interrupted by a snore. He glances up and sees that PRISCILLA has +fallen fast asleep. He sits looking hopelessly into the fireplace for a +long time, then gets up, puts on his hat and tiptoes out of the door.) + +THE NEXT EVENING + +PRISCILLA is sitting alone, lost in revery, before the fireplace. It is +almost as if she had not moved since the evening before. + +A knock, and the door opens to admit JOHN ALDEN, nonchalant, +disillusioned, and twenty-one. + +JOHN: Good evening. Hope I don't bother you. + +PRISCILLA: The only people who bother me are women who tell me I'm +beautiful and men who don't. + +JOHN: Not a very brilliant epigram--but still--yes, you ARE beautiful. + +PRISCILLA: Of course, if it's an effort for you to say-- + +JOHN: Nothing is worthwhile without effort. + +PRISCILLA: Sounds like Miles Standish; many things I do without effort +are worthwhile; I am beautiful without the slightest effort. + +JOHN: Yes, you're right. I could kiss you without any effort--and that +would be worthwhile--perhaps. + +PRISCILLA: Kissing me would prove nothing. I kiss as casually as I +breathe. + +JOHN: And if you didn't breathe--or kiss--you would die. + +PRISCILLA: Any woman would. + +JOHN: Then you are like other women. How unfortunate. + +PRISCILLA: I am like no woman you ever knew. + +JOHN: You arouse my curiosity. + +PRISCILLA: Curiosity killed a cat. + +JOHN: A cat may look at a--Queen. + +PRISCILLA: And a Queen keeps cats for her amusement. They purr so +delightfully when she pets them. + +JOHN: I never learned to purr; it must be amusing--for the Queen. + +PRISCILLA: Let me teach you. I'm starting a new class tonight. + +JOHN: I'm afraid I couldn't afford to pay the tuition. + +PRISCILLA: For a few exceptionally meritorious pupils, various +scholarships and fellowships have been provided. + +JOHN: By whom? Old graduates? + +PRISCILLA: NO--the institution has been endowed by God-- + +JOHN: With exceptional beauty--I'm afraid I'm going to kiss you. NOW. + +(They kiss.) + +(Ten minutes pass.) + +PRISCILLA: Stop smiling in that inane way. + +JOHN: I just happened to think of something awfully funny. You know the +reason why I came over here tonight? + +PRISCILLA: To see me. I wondered why you hadn't come months ago. + +JOHN: No. It's really awfully funny--but I came here tonight because +Miles Standish made me promise this morning to ask you to marry him. +Miles is an awfully good egg, really Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Speak for yourself, John. (They kiss.) + +PRISCILLA: Again. + +JOHN: Again--and again. Oh Lord, I'm gone. + +(An hour later JOHN leaves. As the door closes behind him PRISCILLA +sinks back into her chair before the fireplace; an hour passes, and +she does not move; her aunt returns from the Bradfords' and after a +few ineffectual attempts at conversation goes to bed alone; the candles +gutter, flicker, and die out; the room is filled of sacred silence. Once +more the clock chimes forth the hour--the hour of fluted peace, of dead +desire and epic love. Oh not for aye, Endymion, mayst thou unfold the +purple panoply of priceless years. She sleeps--PRISCILLA sleeps--and +down the palimpsest of age-old passion the lyres of night breathe forth +their poignant praise. She sleeps--eternal Helen--in the moonlight of +a thousand years; immortal symbol of immortal aeons, flower of the gods +transplanted on a foreign shore, infinitely rare, infinitely erotic.[1]) + +[1] For the further adventures of Priscilla, see F. Scott Fitzgerald's +stories in the "Girl With the Yellow Hair" series, notably "This Side +of Paradise," "The Offshore Pirate," "The Ice Palace," "Head and +Shoulders," "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," "Benediction" and "The Beautiful +and Damned." + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +THE SPIRIT OF '75 + +LETTERS OF A MINUTE MAN + +In the Manner of Ring Lardner + +Friend Ethen-- + +Well Ethen you will be surprised O. K. to hear I & the wife took a +little trip down to Boston last wk. to a T. party & I guess you are +thinking we will be getting the swelt hed over being ast to a T. party. +In Boston. + +Well Ethen if you think that why you will be a 100 mi. offen the track +because Ethen I and Prudence sent the kind that gets a swelt hed over +being ast any wares like some of are naybers up here when they are ast +any wares so you see Ethen even if we had been ast any wares we wouldnt +of had no swelt hed. On acct of being ast any wares. + +Well last Thurs. I and Prudence drove old Bessy down to Boston Bessy is +are horse see Ethen which is about 13 mi. from here Boston I mean Ethen +as the crow flys only no crow would ever fly to Boston if he could +help it because all the crows that ever flew to Boston was shot by +them lousie taverin keepers to make meals out of Ethen I never tast +it nothing so rotten in my life as the meals they give us there & the +priceis would knock your I out. 3 shillings for a peace of stake about +as big as your I, and 4 pence for a cup of coffy. The streets sent the +only thing about Boston thats crook it. Them taverin keepers is crook it +to I mean see Ethen. + +After supper I & her was walking a round giving the town the double O +when we seen that Fanny Ewell Hall was all lit up like Charley Davis on +Sat. night & I says to Prudence lets go inside I think its free and +she says I bet you knowed it was free al right befor you ast me & sure +enough it was free only I hadnt knowed it before only I guess that +Prudence knows that when I say a thing it is generally O. K. Well Fanny +Ewell Hall was pack jam full of people & we couldnt see nothing because +there was a cockide stiff standing right in front of us & jumping up & +down & yelling No T. No T. at the top of his lunges & Prudence says well +why dont you take coffy or milk & for Gods sake stay offen my foot & he +turns to her & says maddam do you want T. & slavery & she says no coffy +& a hot dog just kidding him see Ethen & he says maddam no T. shall ever +land & she says no but my husbend will in a bout 1 min. & I was just +going to plank him 1 when the door behint us bust open & a lot of +indyans come in yelling every body down to Grifins worf there is going +to be a T. party only Ethen they wasnt indyans at all but jest wite men +drest up to look like indyans & I says to a fello those aint indyans & +he say no how did you guess it & I says because I have seen real indyans +many a time & he says to a nother fello say Bill here is a man who says +them sent real indyans & the other fello says gosh I dont believe it +& they laffed only the laff was on them Ethen because they wasnt real +indyans & that is only tipical of how you cant tell these Boston swelt +heds nothing & I guess if they had ever seen a real indyan they would of +known better than to laff. Well I and Prudence follered the crowd down +to Grifins worf & them indyans which was only wite men drest up clumb +onto a ship there & begun throwing the cargo into Boston harber & I says +to a fello what is in them boxes & he says T. & I says well why are they +throwing it away & he says because they do not want to pay the tacks +which is about as sensable Ethen if I was to rite a lot of letters & +then as fast as I rote I would tare it up because I did not want to pay +for a stamp. Well I says somebody ought to catch he--ll for this & he +says are you a torie & I seen he was trying to kid me & I says no I am +a congregationalis & a loyal subject of king Geo. Rex & he says o I +thought you was a torie & a lot of fellos who was with him give him the +laff because he hadnt been abel to kid me. Well after a whiles he says +the indyans seem to be about threw & I says yes only they sent indyans +& the laff was on him again & he seen it wasnt no use to try & kid me & +Prudence says come on lets beat it & on the way home I says I bet them +Boston birds will feel small when they find out that those wasnt indyans +at all & she act it like she was mad about something & says well they +cant blame you for not trying to tell them & its a wonder you didnt hire +Fanny Ewell Hall while you was about it & I says o is it & I might know +youd get sore because I was the 1st to find out about the indyans being +wite men in disgised & she says yes I suppose if somebody was to paint +stripes on a cow you would make a speech about it & say that you had +discovered that it wasnt no tiger & I wish I had been 1 of them indyans +tonight because I would of loved to of beened you with a Tommy Hawk & I +says o you would would you & she seen it wasnt no use to argue with me +& anyway Ethen nobody would be fool enough to paint stripes on a cow +unless maybe they was born in Boston. Well Ethen thats the way it goes +& when you do put one over on the wife they want to hit you with a Tommy +Hawk with best rgds. Ed. + +Friend Ethen-- + +No matter what a married man does in this world he gets in wrong & +I suppose if I was to die tonight Prudence would bawl me out for not +having let her know I was going to do it & just because I joined the +minit men the other eve. she has been acting like as if I had joined the +Baptis Church & I bet you are saying what in the h--ll is a minit man. +Well Ethen I will tell you. The other night I says to Prudence I think I +will drive over to Lexington to get Bessy shodd. Bessy is are horse see +Ethen. Well she says you will do nothing of the kind because all you +want to do in Lexington is get a snoot ful & if you think I am going to +wate up all night while you get boiled well you have got another guess +coming. She says the last time you had Bessy shodd the naybers are +talking about it yet & I says do you mean because I & Charley Davis was +singing & having a little fun & she says no because nobody wouldnt call +that singing & do you call it a little fun when you brought Bessy up +stares with you to show me how well she had been shodd at 3 A. M. in the +morning answer me that which is only her way of exagerating things Ethen +because we didnt bring Bessy only as far as the stares & I only did it +because Charley had been drinking a little to much & I didnt want to +iritate him because the way to handel drunks is to not iritate them they +are only worse only you cant tell a woman that & they think the way +to handel drunks is to look him in the eye & say arent you ashamed of +yourselves which only iritates him the moar. Well I says I am not going +to half no horse of mine going a round 1/2 shodd al the time & Prudence +says well I am not going to half no husband of mine going a round 1/2 +shot al the time & I says I will not go near Charley Davis this time +because I have lernt my lesson & she says al right if you will promise +to not go near Charley Davis you can go & when I got to Lexington I +thought I would stop in the taverin a min. just to say hulloh to the +boys because if a fello doesnt stop in the taverin to say hulloh to the +boys who are just as good as he is they are lible to say he has a swelt +hed & is to proud to stop in the taverin to say hulloh to the boys. Who +are just as good as he is. Well I didnt have any i dear that Charley +Davis would be there because I had told Prudence I wasnt going to go +near him & just because I said that I cant be expect it to sneek into +toun like as if I was a convick can I Ethen. Well the taverin was crowd +it & they had all got a good start & the long & the short of it was +that the 1st person I seen was Charley Davis & he says hulloh there +pink whiskers you are just in time to join the minit men which is only a +nicked name he has for me because my whiskers are red brown. No I says I +cannot join anything tonight fellos because I must go right back home +& he says if you dont join the minit men now some day you wont have no +home to go home to & I says what do you mean I wont have no home to go +home to & he says because the Brittish are going to burn down all the +homes of we farmers because we will not sell them any food but first +you had better have a drink. Well Ethen a fello dont like to be a sissey +about taking 1 drink does he & then I says now fellos I must go home +& then a couple of more fellos come in & they said Ed you wont go home +till we have brought you a drink & elect it you to the minit men will +you & I said no but I must go home right after that. Well then we got to +singing & we was going pretty good & after a while I said now fellos I +must go home & Charley Davis says to me Ed before you go I want to have +you shake hands with my friend Tom Duffy who is here from Boston & he +will tell you all about the minit men & you can join tonight but look +out or he will drink you under the tabel because he is the worst fish in +Boston & I says sure only I have got to be going home soon because +you remember what hapend last time & I would like to see any body from +Boston drink me under the tabel & bet. you & I Ethen if that fellow is a +fish then my grandmother is the prince of whales & let me tell you what +hapend. After we had drank about 4 or 5 I seen he was getting sort +of wite & I says well Boston lets settle down now to some good steady +drinking & he says listen & I says what & he says listen & I says what & +he says do you know my wife & I says no & he says listen & I says what & +he says shes the best little woman in the world & I says sure & he says +what did you say & I says when & he says you have insult it my wife the +best little woman in the world & he begun to cry & we had only had a +bout 1 qt & wouldnt that knock you for a cockide gool Ethen, only I +guess you arent surprised knowing how much I can holt without feeling +any affects. Well I was feeling pretty good on acct. of drinking the +pride of Boston under the tabel & not feeling any affects only I was +feeling good like a fello naturely feels & the fellos kind of made a lot +of fuss on acct. me drinking him under the tabel so I couldnt very well +of gone home then & after a while Charley Davis made a speech & well +comed me into the minit men & so I am a minit man Ethen but I cant +exackly explain it to you until I see Charley again because he didnt +make it very clear that night. Well after a while we woke the Boston +fish up & we all went home & I was feeling pretty good on acct. it being +such a nice night & all the stars being out & etc. & when I got home I +said Prudence guess what hapend & she says I can guess & I says Prudence +I have been elect it a minit man & she says well go on up stares & sleep +it off & I says sleep what off & she says stop talking so loud do you +want the naybers to wake up & I says whos talking loud & she says o go +to bed & I says I am talking in conversational tones & she says well +you must be conversing with somebody in Boston & I says o you mean that +little blond on Beecon St. & Ethen she went a 1,000,000 mi. up in the +air & I seen it wasnt no use to try & tell her that the reason I was +feeling good was on acct. having drank a Boston swelt hed to sleep +without feeling any affects & I bet the next time I get a chanct I am +going to get snooted right because a fello gets blamed just as much if +he doesnt feel the affects as if he was brought home in a stuper & I +was just kidding her about that blond on Beecon St. Some women dont know +when they are well off Ethen & I bet that guy from Bostons Tom Duffy +I mean wife wishes she was in Prudences shoes instead of her having +married a man what cant holt no more than a qt. without being brought +home in a stuper. Best rgds. Ed. + +Friend Ethen-- + +Well Ethen this is a funny world & when I joined the minit men last mo. +how was I to know that they called them minit men because they was lible +to get shot any minit. & here I am riteing to you in a tent outside +Boston & any minit a canon ball is lible to knock me for a continental +loop & my house has been burnt & Prudence is up in Conk Cord with her +sister the one who married that short skate dum bell Collins who has +owed me 2 lbs. for a yr. & 1/2 well Ethen it never ranes but it pores & +you can be glad you are liveing in a nice quiet place like Philly. + +Well the other night I and Prudence was sound asleep when I heard some +body banging at the frt. door & I stuck my head out the up stares window +& I says who are you & he says I am Paul Revear & I says well this is a +h--ll of a time to be wakeing a peaceiful man out of their bed what do +you want & he says the Brittish are comeing & I says o are they well +this is the 19 of April not the 1st & I was going down stares to plank +him 1 but he had rode away tow wards Lexington before I had a chanct +& as it turned out after words the joke was on me O. K. Well who is it +says Prudence Charley Davis again because you might as well come back +to bed if it is & I says no it was some Boston smart alick trying to be +funny & I guess they are soar down there on acct. what hapened to their +prize fish up here last mo. & are trying to get even do you know a Paul +Revear & she says yes there was a boy at school named Paul Revear who +was crazy about me was he dark well Ethen if all the fellos she says has +been crazy about her was layed end to end they would circum navygate the +globe twicet & I says no he was yello & that had her stopt so we went +back to sleep only I couldn't help laffing over the way I had slipt it +across. About Revear being yello. Well along a bout A. M. there was a +lot of gun firing tow wards Lexington & Prudence grabed me & says whets +the shooting for & I says probably that fello Revear who was so crazy +a bout you has got funny oncet to oft ten & it will teach them Boston +doodes a lesson. Well Ethen I was wrong for oncet & the firing kept +getting worse & I hitcht up old Bessy & drove over to Lexington Bessy is +are horse & Ethen there was the h--ll to pay there because the g--d +d--m Brittish redcotes had marcht nup from Boston & had fired on the +Lexington fellos & Charley Davis had been shot dead & a lot of the other +fellos was wooned it & they said you had better get your wife to the +h--ll out of your house because the g--d d--m Brittish redcotes are +coming back & they will burn everything along the rode the ---- I guess +you know what word goes there Ethen & I was so d--m mad at those g--d +d--m Brittish redcotes on acct. shooting Charley Davis dead that I said +give me a gun & show me the ---- who done it & they says no you had +better get your wife to a safe place to go to & then you can come back +because the ---- will be along this way again the ----. Well I drove as +fast as I could back to the farm & somebody had already told Prudence +what had hapend & as soon as I drove into the yd. she come out with my +muskit & hand it it to me & says dont you worry about me but you kill +every d--m redcote you can see & I says the ----s has killed Charley +Davis & she says I know it & here is all the bullits I could find. Well +when I got back to Lexington the redcotes was just coming along & Ethen +I guess they wont forget that march back to Boston for a little whiles +& I guess I wont either because the ----s burnt down my house & barn +& Prudence is gone to stay with her sister in Conk Cord & here I am +camping in a tent with a lot of other minit men on the out skirts of +Boston & there is a roomer a round camp that to morrow we are going to +move over to Bunker Hill which is a good name for a Boston Hill Ill say +& Ethen if you was to of told me a mo. ago that I would be fighting to +get Boston away from the Brittish I would of planked you 1 because they +could of had Boston for all I cared. Well Ethen I must go out and drill +some more now & probably we will half to listen to some Boston bird +makeing a speech they are great fellos for speeches about down with +Brittish tirrany & give me liberty or give me death but if you was +to ast me Ethen I would say give me back that house & barn what those +lousie redcotes burnt & when this excitement is all over what I want to +know is Ethen where do I get off at. Yrs Ed. + + + +Chapter Six + +THE WHISKY REBELLION. + +In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. Burgess + +"Just the DAY for a Whisky Rebellion," said Aunt Polly and off she ran, +lipperty-lipperty-lip, to get a few shooting rifles. + +"Oh goody goody," cried little Emily. "Now we can all shoot at those +horrid Revenue Officers," for the collectors of internal revenue were +far from popular with these kindly Pennsylvania folk and Aunt Polly +Pinkwood had often promised the children that if they were good some day +they would be allowed to take a shot at a Revenue Officer. + +Soon she returned, bearing in her arms a number of bright shiny new +guns. The children crowded around in glee and soon all were supplied +with weapons except little Frank who of course was too young to use a +gun and was given a two-gallon jug of nice, old whisky to carry. Jed +hitched up old Taylor, the faithful farm horse, and as quick as you +could say Jack Robinson the little ones had piled into the old carryall. +Round Mr. Sun was just peeping over the Purple Hills when the merry +little party started on its way, singing and laughing at the prospect of +the day's sport. + +"I bet I kill five Revenue Officers," said little Edgar. + +"Ha Ha Ha--you boaster, you," laughed Aunt Polly. "You will be lucky if +you kill two, for I fear they will be hard to find today." + +"Oh do you think so, Aunt Polly?" said little Elinor and she began to +cry, for Elinor dearly loved to shoot. + +"Hush dear," said Miss Pinkwood with a kindly pat, for she loved her +little charges and it hurt her to see them unhappy. "I was only joking. +And now children I will tell you a story." + +"Oh goody goody," cried they all. "Tell us a true story." + +"All right," said Aunt Polly. "I shall tell you a true story," and she +began. + +"Once there was a brave handsome man--" + +"Mr. Welsbach," cried the children with one voice, for it was well +known in the neighborhood that Aunt Polly had long been sweet on Julius +Welsbach, the popular superintendent of the Sabbath School and the best +whisky maker for miles around. + +"Hush children," said Aunt Polly blushing in vexation. "Of course not. +And if you interrupt me I shall not tell my story at all." But she was +not really angry. + +"And one day this brave handsome man was out making whisky and he had +just sampled some when he looked up and what do you suppose he saw?" + +"Snakes," cried little Elmer whose father had often had delirium +tremens, greatly to the delight of his children. + +"No, Elmer," said Miss Pinkwood, "not snakes." + +"Pink lizards," cried little Esther, Elmer's sister. + +"No," said Aunt Polly, with a hearty laugh, "he saw a--stranger. And +what do you suppose the stranger had?" + +"A snoot full," chorused the Schultz twins. "He was pie-eyed." + +"No," replied Miss Pinkwood laughing merrily. "It was before noon. Guess +again children. What did the stranger have?" + +"Blind staggers," suggested little Faith whose mother had recently been +adjudged insane. + +"Come children," replied Aunt Polly. "You are not very wide awake this +morning. The stranger had a gun. And when the brave handsome man offered +the stranger a drink what do you suppose the stranger said?" + +"I know," cried little Prudence eagerly. "He said, 'Why yes I don't care +if I do.' That's what they all say." + +"No, Prudence," replied Miss Pinkwood. "The stranger refused a drink." + +"Oh come now, Aunt Polly," chorused the boys and girls. "You said you +were going to tell us a true story." And their little faces fell. + +"Children," said Miss Polly, "the stranger refused the drink because he +was a Revenue Officer. And he pointed his gun at the brave handsome man +and said he would have to go to jail because he had not paid the tax on +his whisky. And the brave handsome man would have had to have gone to +jail, too; but fortunately his brother came up just at the right time +and--" + +"Shot the Revenuer dead," cried the children in glee. + +"Yes children," said Miss Polly. "He shot the Revenue Officer dead." + +"Oh goody goody," cried all. "Now tell us another story. Tell us about +the time your father killed a Revenue Officer with an ax." + +"Oh you don't want to hear that again, do you children?" said Aunt +Polly. + +"Oh yes--yes--please," they cried, and Aunt Polly was just going to +begin when Jed the driver stopped his horses and said: + +"This hilltop is as good a place to shoot from as I know of, Miss +Pinkwood. You can see both roads, and nobody can see you." + +"Thank you, Jed," said Aunt Polly giving him a kindly smile, and without +more ado the children clambered out of the carryall and filled their +guns with powder and bullets. + +"I get first shot," proudly announced Robert, the oldest boy, and +somewhat of a bully. + +"Robert!" said Aunt Polly severely, and she looked almost ready to cry, +for Aunt Polly had tried hard to teach the boys to be true knights of +chivalry and it hurt her to have Robert wish to shoot a Revenue Officer +before the girls had had a chance. Robert had not meant to hurt Aunt +Polly's feelings but had only been thoughtless, and soon all was +sunshine again as little Ellen the youngest made ready to fire the first +shot. + +The children waited patiently and soon they were rewarded by the sight +of a Revenue Officer riding on horseback in the distant valley, as +pretty a target as one could wish. + +"Now do be careful, dear," whispered Miss Pinkwood, "for if you miss, he +may take alarm and be off." But little Ellen did not miss. "Bang" went +her gun and the little Merry Breezes echoed back and forth, "She got +him. She got him", and old Mother West Wind smiled down at the happy +sport. Sure enough, when old Mr. Smoke had cleared away there was a nice +dead Revenue Officer lying in the road. "Well done, Ellen," said Miss +Pinkwood, patting her little charge affectionately which caused the +happy girl to coo with childish delight. + +Mary had next shot and soon all were popping away in great glee. All +the merry wood folk gathered near to watch the children at their sport. +There was Johnny Chuck and Reddy Fox and Jimmy Skunk and Bobby Coon and +oh everybody. + +Soon round Mr. Sun was high in the Blue Sky and the children began to +tire somewhat of their sport. "I'm as hungry as a bear," said little +Dick. "I'm as hungry as two bears," said Emily. "Ha Ha Ha," laughed Miss +Pinkwood, "I know what will fix that," and soon she had spread out a +delicious repast. "Now children," said Miss Pinkwood when all had +washed their faces and hands, "while you were busy washing I prepared +a surprise for you," and from a large jug, before their delighted gaze, +she poured out--what do you think? "Bronxes," cried little Harriet. "Oh +goody goody." And sure enough Aunt Polly had prepared a jug of delicious +Bronx cocktails which all pronounced excellent. + +And after that there were sandwiches and olives and pie and good three +year old whisky, too. + +"That's awfully smooth rye, Aunt Polly," said little Prudence smacking +her two red lips. "I think I'll have another shot." + +"No dear," said Miss Pinkwood, pleased by the compliment, but firm +withal. "Not now. Perhaps on the way home, if there is any left," for +Aunt Polly knew that too much alcohol in the middle of the day is bad +for growing children, and she had seen many a promising child spoiled by +over-indulgent parents. + +After lunch those children who could stand helped Aunt Polly to clear +away the dishes and then all went sound asleep, as is the custom in +Pennsylvania. + +When they awoke round Mr. Sun was just sinking behind the Purple Hills +and so, after taking a few more scattered shots at Revenue Officers, +they piled once more into the carryall and drove back to town. And +as they passed Mrs. Oliphant's house (Aunt Polly's sister) Aunt Flo +Oliphant came out on the porch and waved her handkerchief at the merry +party. + +"Let's give her a cheer," said Fred. + +"Agreed," cried they all, and so twelve little throats united in three +lusty "huzzahs" which made Auntie Flo very happy you may be sure. + +And as they drove up before the Pinkwoods' modest home twelve tired but +happy children with one accord voted the Whisky Rebellion capital fun +and Aunt Polly a brick. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT + +In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright + +On a brisk winter evening in the winter of 1864 the palatial Fifth +Avenue "palace" of Cornelius van der Griff was brilliantly lighted with +many brilliant lights. Outside the imposing front entrance a small group +of pedestrians had gathered to gape enviously at the invited guests of +the "four hundred" who were beginning to arrive in elegant equipages, +expensive ball-dresses and fashionable "swallowtails". + +"Hully gee!" exclaimed little Frank, a crippled newsboy who was the only +support of an aged mother, as a particularly sumptuous carriage drove +up and a stylishly dressed lady of fifty-five or sixty stepped out +accompanied by a haughty society girl and an elderly gentleman in +clerical dress. It was Mrs. Rhinelander, a social leader, and her +daughter Geraldine, together with the Rev. Dr. Gedney, pastor of an +exclusive Fifth Avenue church. + +"What common looking people," said Mrs. Rhinelander, surveying the crowd +aristocratically with her lorgnette. + +"Yes, aren't they?" replied the clergyman with a condescending glance +which ill befit his clerical garb. + +"I'm glad you don't have people like that dans votre eglise, Dr. +Gedney," said young Geraldine, who thought it was "smart" to display her +proficiency in the stylish French tongue. At this moment the door of the +van der Griff residence was opened for them by an imposing footman in +scarlet livery and they passed into the abode of the "elect". + +"Hully gee!" repeated little Frank. + +"What's going on to-night?" asked a newcomer. + +"Gee--don't youse know?" answered the newsboy. "Dis is de van der +Griffs' and tonight dey are giving a swell dinner for General Grant. Dat +lady wot just went in was old Mrs. Rhinelander. I seen her pitcher in +de last Harper's Weekly and dere was a story in de paper dis morning dat +her daughter Geraldine was going to marry de General." + +"That isn't so," broke in another. "It was just a rumor." + +"Well, anyway," said Frank, "I wisht de General would hurry up and +come--it's getting cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey." +The onlookers laughed merrily at his humorous reference to the frigid +temperature, although many cast sympathetic looks at his thin threadbare +garments and registered a kindly thought for this brave boy who so +philosophically accepted the buffets of fate. + +"I bet this is him now," cried Frank, and all waited expectantly as a +vehicle drove up. The cabman jumped off his box and held the carriage +door open. + +"Here you are, Miss Flowers," he said, touching his hat respectfully. + +A silver peal of rippling laughter sounded from the interior of the +carriage. + +"Why Jerry," came in velvet tones addressed to the coachman, "You +mustn't be so formal just because I have come to New York to live. +Call me 'Miss Ella,' of course, just like you did when we lived out in +Kansas," and with these words Miss Ella Flowers, for it was she, stepped +out of the carriage. + +A hush fell on the crowd as they caught sight of her face--a hush of +silent tribute to the clear sweet womanhood of that pure countenance. +A young man on the edge of the crowd who was on the verge of becoming +a drunkard burst into tears and walked rapidly away to join the nearest +church. A pr-st---te who had been plying her nefarious trade on the +avenue, sank to her knees to pray for strength to go back to her aged +parents on the farm. Another young man, catching sight of Ella's pure +face, vowed to write home to his old mother and send her the money he +had been expending in the city on drinks and dissipation. + +And well might these city people be affected by the glimpse of the +sweet noble virtue which shone forth so radiantly in this Kansas girl's +countenance. Although born in Jersey City, Ella had moved with her +parents to the west at an early age and she had grown up in the open +country where a man's a man and women lead clean sweet womanly lives. +Out in the pure air of God's green places and amid kindly, simple, big +hearted folks, little Ella had blossomed and thrived, the pride of +the whole country, and as she had grown to womanhood there was many a +masculine heart beat a little faster for her presence and many a manly +blush of admiration came into the features of her admirers as she +whirled gracefully with them in the innocent pleasure of a simple +country dance. But on her eighteenth birthday, her parents had passed on +to the Great Beyond and the heartbroken Ella had come East to live with +Mrs. Montgomery, her aunt in Jersey City. This lady, being socially +prominent in New York's "four hundred", was of course quite ambitious +that her pretty little niece from the West should also enter society. +For the last three months, therefore, Ella had been feted at all the +better class homes in New York and Jersey City, and as Mrs. van der +Griff, the Fifth Avenue social leader, was in the same set as Ella's +aunt, it was only natural that when making out her list of guests for +the dinner in honor of General Grant she should include the beautiful +niece of her friend. + +As Ella stepped from the carriage, her gaze fell upon little Frank, the +crippled newsboy, and her eyes quickly filled with tears, for social +success had not yet caused her to forget that "blessed are the weak". +Taking out her purse, she gave Frank a silver dollar and a warm look of +sympathy as she passed into the house. + +"Gee, there went an angel," whispered the little cripple, and many who +heard him silently echoed that thought in their hearts. Nor were they +far from wrong. + +But even an angel is not free from temptation, and by letting Ella +go into society her aunt was exposing the girl to the whisperings of +Satan--whisperings of things material rather than things spiritual. Many +a girl just as pure as Ella has found her standards gradually lowered +and her moral character slowly weakened by the contact with the +so-called "refined" and "cultured" infidels one meets in fashionable +society. Many a father and mother whose ambition has caused them to have +their daughter go out in society have bitterly repented of that step as +they watched the poor girl gradually succumbing to the temptation of the +world. Let her who thinks it is "smart" to be in society consider that +our brothels with their red plush curtains, their hardwood floors and +their luxurious appointments, are filled largely with the worn out +belles and debutantes of fashionable society. + +The next minute a bugle call sounded down the street and up drove a team +of prancing grays. Two soldiers sprang down from the coachman's box and +stood at rigid attention while the door of the carriage opened and out +stepped General Ulysses S. Grant. + +A murmur of admiration swept over the crowd at the sight of his manly +inspiring features, in which the clean cut virility of a life free from +dissipation was accentuated by the neatly trimmed black beard. His erect +military bearing--his neat, well fitting uniform--but above all his +frank open face proclaimed him a man's man--a man among men. A cheer +burst from the lips of the onlookers and the brave but modest general +lowered his eyes and blushed as he acknowledged their greeting. + +"Men and women," he said, in a voice which although low, one could see +was accustomed to being obeyed, "I thank you for your cheers. It makes +my heart rejoice to hear them, for I know you are not cheering me +personally but only as one of the many men who are fighting for the +cause of liberty and freedom, and for----" the general's voice broke a +little, but he mastered his emotion and went on--"for the flag we all +love." + +At this he pulled from his pocket an American flag and held it up so +that all could see. Cheer after cheer rent the air, and tears came to +the general's eyes at this mark of devotion to the common cause. + +"Wipe the d--d rebels off the face of the earth, G-d d--'em," shouted a +too enthusiastic member of the crowd who, I fear, was a little the worse +for drink. In an instant General Grant had stepped up to him and fixed +upon him those fearless blue eyes. + +"My man," said the general, "It hurts me to hear you give vent to those +oaths, especially in the presence of ladies. Soldiers do not curse, and +I think you would do well to follow their example." + +The other lowered his head shamefacedly. "General," he said, "You're +right and I apologize." + +A smile lit up the general's handsome features and he extended his hand +to the other. + +"Shake on it," he said simply, and as the crowd roared its approval of +this speech the two men "shook". + +Meanwhile within the van der Griff house all were agog with excitement +in expectation of the arrival of the distinguished guest. Expensively +dressed ladies fluttered here and there amid the elegant appointments; +servants in stylish livery passed to and fro with trays of wine and +other spirituous liquors. + +At the sound of the cheering outside, the haughty Mrs. Rhinelander +patted her daughter Geraldine nervously, and between mother and daughter +passed a glance of understanding, for both felt that to-night, if ever, +was Geraldine's opportunity to win the handsome and popular general. + +The doorbell rang, and a hush fell over the chattering assemblage; +then came the proud announcement from the doorman--"General Ulysses S. +Grant"--and all the society belles crowded forward around the guest of +honor. + +It had been rumored that the general, being a soldier, was ignorant of +social etiquette, but such proved to be far from the case. Indeed, he +handled himself with such ease of manner that he captivated all, and for +each and every young miss he had an apt phrase or a pretty compliment, +greatly to their delight. + +"Pleased to know you"--"Glad to shake the hand of such a pretty +girl"--"What a nice little hand--I wish I might hold it all +evening"--with these and kindred pleasantries the general won the way +into the graces of Mrs. van der Griff's fair guests, and many a female +heart fluttered in her bosom as she gazed into the clear blue eyes of +the soldier, and listened to his well chosen tactful words. + +"And how is the dear General this evening?"--this in the affected tone +of old Mrs. Rhinelander, as she forced her way through the crowd. + +"Finer than silk," replied he, and he added, solicitously, "I hope you +have recovered from your lumbago, Mrs. Rhinelander." + +"Oh quite," answered she, "and here is Geraldine, General," and the +ambitious mother pushed her daughter forward. + +"Comment vous portez vous, mon General," said Geraldine in French, "I +hope we can have a nice tete-a-tete to-night," and she fawned upon her +prey in a manner that would have sickened a less artificial gathering. + +Were there not some amid all that fashionable throng in whom ideals +of purity and true womanhood lived--some who cared enough for the +sacredness of real love to cry upon this hollow mockery that was being +used to ensnare the simple, honest soldier? There was only one, and she +was at that moment entering the drawing room for the purpose of being +presented to the general. Need I name her? + +Ella, for it was she, had been upstairs busying herself with her toilet +when General Grant had arrived and she now hurried forward to pay her +homage to the great soldier. And then, as she caught sight of his face, +she stopped suddenly and a deep crimson blush spread over her features. +She looked again, and then drew back behind a nearby portiere, her heart +beating wildly. + +Well did Ella remember where she had seen that countenance before, and +as she stood there trembling the whole scene of her folly came back to +her. It had happened in Kansas, just before her parents died, on one +sunny May morning. She had gone for a walk; her footsteps had led her to +the banks of a secluded lake where she often went when she wished to be +alone. Many an afternoon had Ella dreamed idly away on this shore, but +that day, for some reason, she had felt unusually full of life and not +at all like dreaming. Obeying a thoughtless but innocent impulse, with +no intention of evil, she had taken off her clothes and plunged thus +n-k-d into the cool waters of the lake. After she had swum around a +little she began to realize the extent of her folly and was hurriedly +swimming towards the shore when a terrific cramp had seized her lower +limbs, rendering them powerless. Her first impulse, to scream for help, +was quickly checked with a deep blush, as she realized the consequences +if a man should hear her call, for nearby was an encampment of Union +soldiers, none of whom she knew. The perplexed and helpless girl was in +sore straits and was slowly sinking for the third time, when a bearded +stranger in soldier's uniform appeared on the bank and dove into the +water. To her horror he swam rapidly towards her--but her shame was soon +changed to joy when she realized that he was purposely keeping his eyes +tight shut. With a few swift powerful strokes he reached her side, and, +blushing deeply, took off his blue coat, fastened it around her, opened +his eyes, and swam with her to the shore. Carrying her to where she had +left her clothes he stayed only long enough to assure himself that she +had completely recovered the use of her limbs, and evidently to spare +her further embarrassment, had vanished as quickly and as mysteriously +as he had appeared. + +Many a night after that had Ella lain awake thinking of the splendid +features and, the even more splendid conduct of this unknown knight who +wore the uniform of the Union army. "How I love him," she would whisper +to herself; "but how he must despise me!" she would cry, and her pillow +was often wet with tears of shame and mortification at her folly. + +It was shortly after this episode that her parents had taken sick and +passed away. Ella had come East and had given up hope of ever seeing her +rescuer again. You may imagine her feelings then when, on entering the +drawing room at the van der Griffs', she discovered that the stranger +who had so gallantly and tactfully rescued her from a watery grave was +none other than General Ulysses S. Grant. + +The poor girl was torn by a tumult of contrary emotions. Suppose he +should remember her face. She blushed at the thought. And besides what +chance had she to win such a great man's heart in competition with these +society girls like Geraldine Rhinelander who had been "abroad" and spoke +French. + +At that moment one of the liveried servants approached the general with +a trayful of filled wine glasses. So engrossed was the soldier hero +in talking to Geraldine--or, rather, in listening to her alluring +chatter--that he did not at first notice what was being offered him. + +"Will you have a drink of champagne wine, General?" said Mrs. van der +Griff who stood near. + +The general raised his head and frowned as if he did not understand. + +"Come, mon General," cried Geraldine gayly, "We shall drink a votre +succes dans la guerre," and the flighty girl raised a glass of wine on +high. Several of the guests crowded around and all were about to drink +to the general's health. + +"Stop," cried General Grant suddenly realizing what was being done, and +something in the tone of his voice made everyone pause. + +"Madam," said he, turning to Mrs. van der Griff, "Am I to understand +that there is liquor in those glasses?" + +"Why yes, General," said the hostess smiling uneasily. "It is just a +little champagne wine." + +"Madam," said the general, "It may be 'just champagne wine' to you, +but 'just champagne wine' has ruined many a poor fellow and to me all +alcoholic beverages are an abomination. I cannot consent, madam, to +remain under your roof if they are to be served. I have never taken +a drop--I have tried to stamp it out of the army, and I owe it to my +soldiers to decline to be a guest at a house where wine and liquor are +served." + +An excited buzz of comment arose as the general delivered this +ultimatum. A few there were who secretly approved his sentiments, but +they were far too few in numbers and constant indulgence in alcohol had +weakened their wills so that they dared not stand forth. An angry flush +appeared on the face of the hostess, for in society, "good form" is more +important than courage and ideals, and by his frank statement General +Grant had violently violated the canons of correct social etiquette. + +"Very well, Mr. Grant," she said, stressing the "Mr."--"if that's the +way you feel about it----" + +"Stop," cried an unexpected voice, and to the amazement of all Ella +Flowers stepped forward, her teeth clenched, her eyes blazing. + +"Stop," she repeated, "He is right--the liquor evil is one of the worst +curses of modern civilization, and if General Grant leaves, so do I." + +Mrs. van der Griff hesitated for an instant, and then suddenly forced a +smile. + +"Why Ella dear, of course General Grant is right," said she, for it was +well known in financial circles that her husband, Mr. van der Griff, had +recently borrowed heavily from Ella's uncle. "There will not be a drop +of wine served to-night, and now General, shall we go in to dinner? Will +you be so kind as to lead the way with Miss Rhinelander?" The hostess +had recovered her composure, and smiling sweetly at the guest of honor, +gave orders to the servants to remove the wine glasses. + +But General Grant did not hear her; he was looking at Ella Flowers. And +as he gazed at the sweet beauty of her countenance he seemed to feel +rising within him something which he had never felt before--something +which made everything else seem petty and trivial. And as he looked into +her eyes and she looked into his, he read her answer--the only answer +true womanhood can make to clean, worthy manhood. + +"Shall we go a la salle-a-manger?" sounded a voice in his ears, and +Geraldine's sinuous arm was thrust through his. + +General Grant took the proffered talon and gently removed it from him. + +"Miss Rhinelander," he said firmly, "I am taking this young lady as my +partner," and suiting the action to the word, he graciously extended his +arm to Ella who took it with a pretty blush. + +It was General Grant's turn to blush when the other guests, with a few +exceptions, applauded his choice loudly, and made way enthusiastically +as the handsome couple advanced to the brilliantly lighted dining room. + +But although the hostess had provided the most costly of viands, I am +afraid that the brave general did not fully appreciate them, for in his +soul was the joy of a strong man who has found his mate and in his heart +was the singing of the eternal song, "I love her--I love her--I love +her!" + +It was only too apparent to the other guests what had happened and to +their credit be it said that they heartily approved his choice, for +Mrs. Rhinelander and her scheming daughter Geraldine had made countless +enemies with their haughty manners, whereas the sweet simplicity of +Ella Flowers had won her numerous friends. And all laughed merrily when +General Grant, in his after dinner speech, said "flowers" instead of +"flour" when speaking of provisioning the army--a slip which caused both +the general and Miss Flowers to blush furiously, greatly to the delight +of the good-natured guests. "All the world loves a lover"--truer words +were never penned. + +After dinner, while the other men, according to the usages of best +society, were filling the air of the dining room with the fumes of +nicotine, the general, who did not use tobacco, excused himself--amid +many sly winks from the other men--and wandered out into the +conservatory. + +There he found Ella. + +"General," she began. + +"Miss Flowers," said the strong man simply, "Call me Ulysses." + +And there let us leave them. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +CUSTER'S LAST STAND + +In the Manner of Edith Wharton + +It was already late afternoon and the gas street lamps of the Boul' +Mich' were being lighted for Paris, or at least for Paris in summer, by +a somewhat frigid looking allumeur, when Philip Custer came to the +end of his letter. He hesitated for an instant, wrote "Your----," then +crossed that out and substituted "Sincerely." No, decidedly the first +ending, with its, as is, or, rather, as ordinarily is, the case in +hymeneal epistles, somewhat possessive sense, would no longer suffice. +"Yours truly"--perhaps; "sincerely"--better; but certainly not "Your +husband." He was done, thank God, with presences. + +Philip sipped his absinthe and gazed for an instant through the Cafe +window; a solitary fiacre rattled by; he picked up the result of his +afternoon's labor, wearily. + +"Dear Mary," he read, "When I told you that my employers were sending +me to Paris, I lied to you. It was, perhaps, the first direct lie that I +ever told you; it was, I know now, the last. But a falsehood by word of +mouth mattered really very little in comparison with the enormous lie +that my life with you had become." + +Philip paused and smiled, somewhat bitterly, at that point in the +letter. Mary, with her American woman's intuition, would undoubtedly +surmise that he had run off with Mrs. Everett; there was a certain +ironical humor in the fact that Mary's mistaken guess would be sadly +indicative of her whole failure to understand what her husband was, to +use a slang expression, "driving at." + +"I hope that you will believe me when I say that I came to Paris to +paint. In the past four years the desire to do that has grown steadily +until it has mastered me. You do not understand. I found no one in +America who did. I think my mother might have, had she lived; certainly +it is utterly incomprehensible to father." + +Philip stopped. Ay, there was the rub--General Custer, and all that he +stood for. Philip glimpsed momentarily those early boyhood days with his +father, spent mainly in army posts; the boy's cavalry uniform, in which +he had ridden old Bess about the camp, waving his miniature sabre; the +day he had been thrown to the ground by a strange horse which he had +disobediently mounted, just as his father arrived on the scene. +Philip had never forgotten his father's words that day. "Don't crawl, +son,--don't whine. It was your fault this time and you deserved what you +got. Lots of times it won't be your fault, but you'll have to take +your licking anyway. But remember this, son--take your medicine like a +man--always." + +Philip groaned; he knew what the general would say when the news of his +son's desertion of his wife and four year old boy reached him. He knew +that he never could explain to his father the absolute torture of the +last four years of enervating domesticity and business mediocrity--the +torture of the Beauty within him crying for expression, half satisfied +by the stolen evenings at the art school but constantly growing stronger +in its all-consuming appeal. No, life to his father was a simple problem +in army ethics--a problem in which duty was "a", one of the known +factors; "x," the unknown, was either "bravery" or "cowardice" when +brought in contact with "a". Having solved this problem, his father +had closed the book; of the higher mathematics, and especially of those +complex problems to which no living man knew the final answer, he had no +conception. And yet---- + +Philip resumed his reading to avoid the old endless maze of subtleties. + +"It is not that I did not--or do not--love you. It is, rather, that +something within me is crying out--something which is stronger than +I, and which I cannot resist. I have waited two years to be sure. +Yesterday, as soon as I reached here, I took my work to the man who is +considered the finest art critic in Paris. He told me that there was a +quality to my painting which he had seen in that of no living artist; he +told me that in five years of hard work I should be able to produce work +which Botticelli would be proud to have done. Do you understand that, +Mary--Botticelli! + +"But no, forgive me. My paean of joy comes strangely in a letter which +should be of abject humility for what must seem to you, to father, and +to all, a cowardly, selfish act of desertion--a whining failure to face +life. Oh dear, dear Mary if you could but understand what a hell I have +been through--" + +Philip took his pen and crossed out the last line so that no one could +read what had been there. + +"Materially, of course, you and little George will be better off; the +foolish pride with which I refused to let your parents help us now +no longer stands in their way. You should have no difficulty about a +divorce. + +"You can dispose of my things as you see fit; there is nothing I care +about keeping which I did not bring. + +"Again, Mary, I cannot ask you to forgive, or even to understand, but I +do hope that you will believe me when I say that this act of mine is +the most honest thing I have ever done, and that to have acted out the +tragi-comedy in the part of a happy contented husband would have made of +both of our lives a bitter useless farce. Sincerely, Philip." + +He folded the pages and addressed the envelope. + +"Pardon, Monsieur"--a whiff of sulphur came to his nose as the waiter +bent over the table to light the gas above him. "Would Monsieur like +to see the journal? There is a most amusing story about---- The bill, +Monsieur? Yes--in a moment." + +Philip glanced nervously through the pages of the Temps. He was anxious +to get the letter to the post--to have done with indecision and worry. +It would be a blessed relief when the thing was finally done beyond +chance of recall; why couldn't that stupid waiter hurry? + +On the last page of the newspaper was an item headlined "Recent News +from America." Below was a sub-heading "Horrible Massacre of Soldiers by +Indians--Brave Stand of American Troopers." He caught the name "Custer" +and read: + +"And by his brave death at the hands of the Indians, this gallant +American general has made the name of Custer one which will forever be +associated with courage of the highest type." + +He read it all through again and sat quietly as the hand of Polyphemus +closed over him. He even smiled a little--a weary, ironic smile. + +"Monsieur desires something more, perhaps"--the waiter held out the +bill. + +Philip smiled. "No--Monsieur has finished--there is nothing more." + +Then he repeated slowly, "There is nothing more." + +* * * * * + +Philip watched his son George blow out the twelve candles on his +birthday cake. + +"Mother," said George, "when I get to be eighteen, can I be a soldier +just like grandfather up there?" He pointed to the portrait of Philip's +father in uniform which hung in the dining room. + +"Of course you can, dear," said his mother. "But you must be a brave +boy". + +"Grandfather was awful brave, wasn't he father?" This from little Mary +between mouthfuls of cake. + +"Yes, Mary," Philip answered. "He was very, very brave." + +"Of course he was," said George. "He was an American." + +"Yes," answered Philip, "That explains it.--he was an American." + +Mrs. Custer looked up at the portrait of her distinguished +father-in-law. + +"You know Philip, I think it must be quite nice to be able to paint a +picture like that. I've often wondered why you never kept up your art." + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +"FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD" + +A DRAMA OF THE GREAT WAR + +Act I: In the Manner of Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews + +Act 2: In the Manner of Eugene O'Neill + +ACT ONE + +(Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews) + +SCENE I + + A principal street of an American city in the spring of 1918. + +At the rear of the stage, representing the opposite sidewalk of the +street, are gathered many people come to bid farewell to the boys of the +Blankth regiment who are soon to march past on their way to France. + +Extending across the "street", from footlights to "sidewalk", is a large +white plaster arch, gayly decorated with the Allied colors. + +On this arch is the inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + +At the rising of the curtain, distant march music is heard (off stage, +right); this constantly grows louder during the ensuing dialogue which +takes place between three elderly women crowded together at the edge +of the sidewalk. These women, although, before the war, of different +stations in social rank, are now united, as are all mothers in the +Allied countries, by the glorious badge which each proudly wears pinned +over her heart--the service star. + +The Professor's Wife--I hear them coming. + +The Street-cleaner's Wife--So do I. I hope my boy Pat sees me. + +The Pawnbroker's Wife--I told my Jean where to look. + +The approaching music and the cheering of the spectators drowns out +further conversation. + +Enter (right) the regimental band playing the "Stars and Stripes +Forever." They march through the arch and exit left. Following them +comes the flag, at the sight of which all the male spectators (young +boys and men too old to fight) remove their hats. After the colors come +the troops, splendid clean faced fellows, in whose eyes shines the light +of civilization's ideals, in whose ears rings the never forgettable cry +of heroic France and brave little Belgium. The boys are marching four +abreast, with a firm determined step; it is as though each man were +saying to himself "They shall not pass." + +After the first few squads have marched through the arch and off left, +the command is issued off-stage "Company--HALT." A young lieutenant +repeats this order to his men, and the column comes to a stop. The men +stand at attention until given the command "Rest", when they relax and +a murmur of conversation arises from the ranks, in which characteristic +sentences "German ideals are not our ideals" and "Suppose it was your +own sister" show only too well what the boys are thinking of day and +night. + +As the column halts, the three service star mothers rush out from the +curb and embrace their sons who happen to be in this company. At the +same time a very attractive girl runs up to the young lieutenant. + + The Lieutenant--Ellen! + His Fiancee--John! + The Professor's Son} + The Streetcleaner's Son } Mother! + The Pawnbroker's Son } + + The Professor's Wife } + The Streetcleaner's Wife } My Boy! + The Pawnbroker's Wife } + Voice off stage--Company--Atten SHUN! + +The farewells are said, the men come to attention. + +Voice off stage--Forward--MARCH + +The Lieutenant--(Pointing with his sword to the inscription on the +arch)--Forward for the Freedom of the World--MARCH. + +The men's teeth click together, their heads are thrown back, and with a +light in their eyes that somehow suggests Joan of Arc the Crusaders move +on. + + SCENE 2 + + Three months later. + +A section of an American front line trench now occupied by the Blankth +regiment. + +It is early morning and the three soldiers mentioned in Scene 1 are +conversing together for perhaps the last time, for soon they are to be +given the chance which every American man desires more than anything in +the world--the opportunity to go "over the top". + +The Professor's Son--Well fellows, in a few minutes we shall be able to +show the people at home that their boys are not cowards when the fate of +civilization is at stake. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--Here's a newspaper clipping mother sent me. It's +from a speech made the other day in Congress. (He reads) "And we and our +children--and our children's children will never forget the debt we owe +those brave boys who are now in France." + +The Streetcleaner's Son--That makes a fellow feel pretty good inside, +doesn't it? It makes me glad I'm doing my bit--and after the war I hope +the ideals which have inspired us all will make us better citizens in a +better world. + +The Professor's Son--Not only will we be better citizens--not only will +the torch of liberty shine more brightly--but also each one of us will +go back to his job with a deeper vision. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--That's right I am a musician--a pianist, you +know--and I hope that after the war I shall be able to tell America, +through my music, of the glory of this holy cause. + +The Professor's Son--I didn't know you were a pianist. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--Yes--ever since I was a boy--I have had no other +interest. My father tried to make me go into his shop but I couldn't +stand it. He got angry and refused to support me; I had a hard time +until I won a scholarship at a New York musical college. Just before the +war I had a chance to play the Schumann concerto with the Philharmonic; +the critics all said that in another year I would be--but fellows--you +must think me frightfully conceited to talk so, and besides what matters +my musical career in comparison with the sacrifice which everyone is +making? + +The Streetcleaner's Son--And gladly making, too, for it is easy to give +up all, as did Joan of Arc, for France. Attention, men! here comes one +of our officers. + + The three stand at attention. + +Enter the Lieutenant. + +The Lieutenant--Well, men, do you feel ready? + +The Three--More than ready, sir--eager. + +The Lieutenant--Brave men! (To the Professor's Son) Come here a minute, +Keating. I have something to ask you before we go over the top. + +The Professor's Son and the Lieutenant go to one side. + +The Lieutenant--(To the other two in a kindly manner)--At ease! + +The Streetcleaner's Son--Thank you, sir. + +They relax from their rigid posture of "attention". + +The Lieutenant--(To the Professor's Son)--Keating, when we "go over", +we--may--never come back, you know. And I want to ask a favor of you. +I am engaged--to a girl back home--here is her picture (he draws a +photograph from his inner breast pocket and shows it to the Professor's +Son.) + +The Professor's Son--She is beautiful, Sir. + +The Lieutenant--(Putting the photograph back in his pocket)--Yes very +beautiful. And (dropping his eyes)--I love her. If--if I should "go +west" I want you to write her and tell her that my last thoughts were of +my country and--her. We are to be married--after the war--if (suddenly +clearing his throat). Her name is Ellen Radcliff--here, I'll write the +address down for you. + +He does so, and hands the slip of paper to the Professor's Son, who +discreetly turns away. + +The Lieutenant--(Brusquely)--That's all, Keating. + +A bugle sounds. + +The Lieutenant--Attention men! At the next bugle call you go over the +top--remember that you are Americans and that Americans know how to +fight and die in the cause of liberty and for the freedom of the world. +The Three Soldiers--We are ready to make the supreme sacrifice if need +be. + + The bugle sounds. + +The Lieutenant--(Climbing up the ladder to the top of the +trench)--Follow me, men-- + +The Three Soldiers--(Climbing up after him)--Lafayette--we come, though +poppies bloom in Flanders field. + +They go "over the top". + +SCENE 3 + + A section of a Hun trench a minute later. Two Hun soldiers are +conversing together; another Hun is reading a copy of Nietzsche. + +First Hun Soldier--And then we cut the hands off all the little +children--oh it was wonderful. + +Second Hun Soldier--I wish I had been there. + + A Hun Lieutenant rushes in. + +The Hun Lieutenant--(Kicking the three men and brandishing his +revolver)--Swine--wake up--here come the Americans. + + The three spring to their feet and seize their guns. At the top +of the trench appears the American lieutenant, closely followed by the +three soldiers. + +The American Lieutenant--(Coolly)--We come to avenge the sinking of the +Lusitania. + +The Hun Lieutenant--Hoch der Kaiser! Might is stronger than right! + + He treacherously tries to shoot the American but the Professor's +Son disarms him with his bayonet. The three Hun soldiers offer a show of +resistance. + +The Streetcleaner's Son--(To first Hun soldier)--Your hands are unclean +with the murder of innocent women and children. + +First Hun Soldier--(Dropping his gun)--Kamerad! + +The Pawnbroker's Son--(To the other Hun soldiers)--Prussianism has +destroyed the Germany of Bach and Beethoven and you fellows know it, +too. + +Second and third Hun Soldiers--(Dropping their guns)--Kamerad! + +The American Lieutenant--Men--you have kept the faith. I am proud of +you. Forward! + + An explosion (not too loud to annoy the audience) is heard off +stage right. + +The Professor's Son--(Sinking to the ground) Fellows, I'm afraid they've +got me. + +The Streetcleaner's Son--What a shame! + +The Lieutenant--Is there anything we can do to ease the pain? + +The Professor's Son--(Weakening rapidly) No--go on, boys, carry +the--banner of--civilization's ideals--forward--without me--Tell mother +I'm glad--I did--my bit--for the freedom--of the world--fellows, the +only--thing--I regret--is that I won't--be able to be with you--when +you--go back--to enjoy the gratitude--of America--good-bye, fellows, may +you drink--to the full--the rewards of a grateful nation. + +He dies. The others regretfully leave him behind as they push on after +the fleeing Huns. + +The stage is slowly darkened--the noise of battle dies away. + +Enter an Angel in the uniform of the Y.M.C.A. She goes up to the fallen +hero and taking him in her arms tenderly carries him off the stage. + +CURTAIN + +TWO YEARS PASS + +ACT TWO + +(Eugene O'Neill) + +SCENE I + + The bedroom of a bachelor apartment in New York City in the Fall +of 1920. + +There is about the room an air of neglect, as though the occupant did +not particularly give a damn whether he slept in this room or in hell. +This is evidenced in a general way by the absence of any attempts at +decoration and by the presence of dirty laundry and unopened letters +scattered about the room. + +The furniture consists of a bed and a bureau; at the foot of the former +is a trunk such as was used by American army officers in the recent war. + +Although it is three in the morning, the bed is unoccupied. The electric +light over the bureau has been left lighted. + +The lamp flickers and goes out for a minute; when it again flashes on, +the Angel and the Professor's Son are seen standing in the room, as +though they had come there directly from the close of the preceding act; +the Angel, however, has completely removed all Y.M.C.A. insignia and +now has a beard and chews tobacco; from time to time he spits out of the +window. + +The angel--Why the hell weren't you satisfied to stay in heaven? + +The Professor's Son--Well, I just wanted to see my old buddies once +more--I want to see them enjoying the gratitude of the world. + +The Angel--Hmmmm--well, this is where your Lieutenant now lives--and I +think I hear him coming. + + They step behind a curtain. The noise of a key rattling in a +lock is heard, then a light flashes on in the next room. The sound of +unsteady footsteps--a vase is knocked over--a curse--then enter the +Lieutenant. + +He wears a dinner-coat, one sleeve of which hangs empty. His face is +white, his eyes set, his mouth hard and hopeless. He is drunk--not +hilariously--but with the drunkenness of despair. + +He sits down on the bed and remains for several minutes, his head in his +hands. + +The Lieutenant--God, I'm drunk--(after a pause)--drunk again--well, +what of it--what the hell difference does it make--get drunk if I want +to--sure I will--get drunk--that's the dope DRUNK--oh Christ--! + +He throws himself on the bed and after lying there a few minutes sits +up. + +The Lieutenant--Gotta have another drink--can't go sleep, God +damn it--brain too clear--gotta kill brain--that's the dope--kill +brain--forget--wipe out past-- + +He opens the trunk in his search for liquor. He suddenly pulls out his +lieutenant's coat and holds it up. + +The Lieutenant--There's that God damn thing--never wanted to see it +again--wound stripes on right sleeve, too--hurrah for brave soldier--arm +shot off to--to make world safe for democracy--blaa--the god damn +hypocrites--democracy hell--arm shot off because I wasn't clever enough +to stay out of it--ought to have had sense enough to join the--the +ordinance department or--or the Y.M.C.A. + +He feels aimlessly through the pockets of the coat. Suddenly, from the +inside breast pocket he draws out something--a photograph-- + +The Lieutenant--Ellen! Oh God! + +He gazes at the picture for a long time. + +The Lieutenant--Yes, Ellen, I should have joined the Y.M.C.A. shouldn't +I?--where they don't get their arms shot off--couldn't marry a man with +one arm, could you?--of course not--think of looking at an empty +sleeve year after year--children might be born with only one arm, +too--children--oh God damn you, Ellen, you and your Y.M.C.A. husband! + + He tears the picture in two and hurls it into the trunk. Then he +sinks onto the bed, sobbing drunkenly. After a few minutes, he walks +over to the trunk and picks up one half of the torn picture. He turns it +over in his hand and reads the writing on the back. + +The Lieutenant (Reading)--"I'm waiting for you, dear--when you have done +your bit 'for the freedom of the world'." + +He smiles, wearily, and reaches down to pick up the other half of the +picture. His eye is caught by something shiny; it is his army revolver. +He slowly picks it up and looks at it for a long time. + +The Lieutenant--For the freedom of the world-- + +He quickly opens his top bureau drawer and takes out a box of +cartridges. One of these he inserts in a chamber of his revolver. + +The Lieutenant--For the FREEDOM-- + +He laughs. + +As the curtain falls he presses the revolver against his temple and +fires. + + SCENE 2 + + A bare room in a boarding house. To the left is a bed, to the +right a grand piano--the latter curiously out of keeping with the other +cheap furnishings. The room is in partial darkness. + +The door slowly swings open; the Angel and the Professor's Son enter. + +The Angel--And here you have the room of your friend the Pawnbroker's +Son--the musical genius--with a brilliant future. + +They hide in a closet, leaving the door partly open. + +Enter Jean, the Pawnbroker's Son. He has on a cutaway suit--a relic +of his first and last public concert before the war. His shoulders sag +dejectedly and his face is drawn and white. He comes in and sits on the +bed. A knock--a determined knock--is heard at the door but Jean does not +move. The door opens and his landlady--a shrewish, sharp faced woman of +40--appears. He gets up off the bed when he sees her and bows. + +The Landlady--I forgot you was deef or I wouldn't have wasted my time +hitting my knuckles against your door. + +Jean gazes at her. + +The Landlady--Well Mr. Rosen I guess you know why I'm here--it's pay up +today or get out. + +Jean--Please write it down--you know I cannot hear a word you say. I +suppose it's about the rent. + +The landlady takes paper and pencil and writes. + +The Landlady--(Reading over the result of her +labor)--"To-day--is--the--last day. If you can't pay, you must get out." + +She hands it to Jean and he reads. + +Jean--But I cannot pay. Next week perhaps I shall get work-- + +The Landlady--(Scornfully)--Yes--Next week maybe I have to sell another +liberty bond for seventy dollars what I paid a hundred dollars for, too. +No sir I need the money NOW. Here-- + + She writes and hands it to him. + +Jean (Reading)--Sell my piano? But please I cannot do that--yet. + +The Landlady--A lot of good a piano does a deef person like you. That's +a good one--( She laughs harshly). The deef musician--ho ho--with a +piano. + +Jean--Madam, I shall pay you surely next week. There has been some delay +in my war risk insurance payment. I should think that you would trust a +soldier who lost his hearing in the trenches-- + +The Landlady--That's old stuff. You soldiers think just because you +were unlucky enough to get drafted you can spend the rest of your +life patting yourselves on the back. Besides--what good did the war do +anyway--except make a lot of rich people richer? + +She scribbles emphatically "Either you pay up tonight or out you go." + +Handing this to Jean with a flourish, she exits. + + He sits on the bed for a long time. + +Finally he glances up at the wall over his bed where hangs a cheap photo +frame. In the center is a picture of President Wilson; on one side of +this is a crude print of a soldier, on the other side a sailor; above is +the inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + +Jean takes down the picture and looks at it. As he replaces it on the +wall he sees hanging above it the bayonet which he had carried through +the war. He slowly takes the weapon down, runs his fingers along the +edge and smiles--a quiet tired smile which does not leave his face +during the rest of the scene. + +He walks over to the piano and plays the opening chords of the Schumann +concerto. Then shaking his head sadly, he tenderly closes down the lid +and locks it. + +He next writes a note which he folds and places, with the key to the +piano, in an envelope. Sealing and addressing the envelope, he places +it on the piano. Then, walking over to the bed, he picks up the bayonet, +and shutting his eyes for an instant, he steps forward and cuts his +throat as the curtain falls. + + SCENE 3 + + Same as Act 1, Scene 1 except for the changes made in the city +street by a year or more of peace. + +The arch across the thoroughfare still stands, although it has become +badly discolored and dirty; the inscription "For the Freedom of the +World" is but faintly visible. As the curtain rises workmen are busy at +work tearing the arch down. + + Enter the Angel and the Professor's Son. + +The Angel--Stand over here, out of the way, and you'll see the last of +your cronies--Pat, the Streetcleaner's Son--enjoying the gratitude of +the world. + +The Professor's Son does not answer. + + Enter Pat. He has on an old pair of corduroy trousers, with his +brown army shirt, and shoes out at the heel. + +He looks as if he had not slept for days certainly he has not shaved for +a week. He approaches one of the workmen. + +Pat--Say buddy any chance for a job here? + +The Workman--Hell no. They was fifty applicants yesterday. (Looking +at his army shirt) Most of them ex-soldiers like you. Jobs is mighty +scarce. + +Pat--I'll tell the world they are. I'd almost join the army again, +except for my wife and kid. + +The Workman--God--don't do it. + +Pat--Why--was you across? + +The Workman--Yes, God damn it--eight months. Next war I'll let somebody +else do the fighting. + +Pat--Same here. The wise guys were them that stayed at home and kept +their jobs. + +The Workman--I'll say they were. + +Pat--(Growing more excited)--And while we was over there fighting, +nothing was too good for us--"brave boys," they said, "we shall never +forget what you have done for us." Never forget--hell! In about a year +everybody forgot there ever was a war and a fellow has a hell of a time +getting a job--and when you mention the war they just laugh--why God +damn it, I've been out of work for six months and I ain't no loafer +either and my wife has had to go back to her folks and I'm just about +all in-- + + During this speech the work on dismantling the arch has steadily +progressed. Suddenly there comes a warning cry--"Look out"--as the +supports unexpectedly give way. Pat is too engrossed in his tirade to +take heed, and as the center portion of the arch falls it crushes him +beneath its weight. After the cloud of dust clears, he is seen lying +under the mass. By a curious twist of fate he has been crushed by the +portion of the arch bearing the inscription "For the Freedom of the +World." His eyes open for an instant--he reads, through the mist of +approaching death, the words, and he laughs-- + +Pat--For the Freedom of the World--Oh Christ! + +His mocking laughter is interrupted by a severe fit of coughing and he +sinks back dead. + +The Professor's Son--Oh God--take me somewhere where I can't ever see +the world. + +The angel--Come to heaven. + +CURTAIN + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Parody Outline of History, by +Donald Ogden Stewart + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PARODY OUTLINE OF HISTORY *** + +***** This file should be named 1478.txt or 1478.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/7/1478/ + +Produced by Charles Keller + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Scanned by Charles Keller with OmniPage Professional OCR + + + + + +DONALD OGDEN STEWART + +A PARODY +OUTLINE OF HISTORY + +Wherein may be found a curiously irreverent treatment of +AMERICAN HISTORICAL EVENTS +Imagining them as they would be narrated +by American's most characteristic +contemporary authors + + + + +To +GILBERT HOLLAND STEWART, Jr. + + + + +Preface + +Mr. H. G. Wells, in his "Outline of History," was of necessity forced +to omit the narration of many of the chief events in the history +of these United States. Such omissions I have in this brief +volume endeavored to supply. And as American history can +possibly best be written by Americans and as we have among us no +H. G. Wells, I have imagined an American history as written +conjointly by a group of our most characteristic literary figures. + +Apologies are due the various authors whose style and, more +particularly, whose Weltanschauung I have here attempted to +reproduce; thanks are due The Bookman for permission to reprint +such of these chapters as appeared in that publication. I give +both freely. D. O. S. + + + +Contents + +I INTRODUCTION: A Critical Survey of American History In +the Manner of William Lyon Phelps + +II CRISTOFER COLOMBO: A Comedy of Discovery In the Manner of +James Branch Cabell + +III MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass In the Manner of Sinclair +Lewis + +IV THE COURTSHIP OF, MILES STANDISH In the Manner of F. Scott +Fitzgerald + +V THE SPIRIT OF '75: Letters of a Minute Man In the Manner of +Ring Lardner + +VI THE WHISKY REBELLION In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton +W. Burgess + +VII HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT In the Manner of Harold Bell +Wright + +VIII CUSTER'S LAST STAND In the Manner of Edith Wharton + +IX FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD: A Drama of the Great War Act +I--In the Manner of Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews Act 2-- In the +Manner of Eugene O'Neill + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + +INTRODUCTION + +A CRITICAL SURVEY OF AMERICAN HISTORY + +In the Manner of William Lyon Phelps + +On a memorable evening in the year 1904 I witnessed the opening +performance of Maude Adams in "Peter Pan". Nothing in the world +can describe the tremendous enthusiasm of that night! I shall +never forget the moment when Peter came to the front of the stage +and asked the audience if we believed in fairies. I am happy to +say that I was actually the first to respond. Leaping at once out +of my seat, I shouted "Yes--Yes!" To my intense pleasure the +whole house almost instantly followed my example, with the +exception of one man. This man was sitting directly in front of +me. His lack of enthusiasm was to me incredible. I pounded him +on the back and shouted, "Great God, man, are you alive! Wake up! +Hurrah for the fairies! Hurrah!" Finally he uttered a rather +feeble "Hurrah!" Childe Roland to the dark tower came. + +That was my first meeting with that admirable statesman Woodrow +Wilson, and I am happy to state that from that night we became +firm friends. When Mr. Wilson was inaugurated in 1913 I called on +him at the White House, taking with me some members of my Yale +drama class. Each one of us had an edition of the president's +admirable "History of the American People", and I am glad to say +that he was kind enough to autograph each of the ten volumes for +all of us. + +Early in Mr. Wilson's second term as president, just before the +break with Germany, I was sitting in the quiet of my library +rereading Browning's "Cristina". When I came to the third stanza +I leaped to my feet-- the thing seemed incredible, but here +before my eyes was actually Browning's prophetic message to +America in regard to the submarine sinkings. + +"Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! But not so sunk that +moments--etc." It is an extraordinary evidence of the man's +genius that in 1840 he should have perhaps foreseen prophetically +the happenings of seventy-six years later! Not only did Browning +seem to know what was bound to happen, but he told us the remedy. +I sat right down and wrote to my good friend the president, +enclosing a marked copy of the poem. On the sixth of April, 1917, +war was declared. + +May 7, 1912, was the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of +Robert Browning. On that memorable date I was traveling to Ohio +at the request of my dear friend Miss Jones to deliver an address +at the Columbus School for Girls. Curiously enough the name of +my Pullman car was Pauline. Not only did that strike me as +remarkable, but I occupied upper berth number 9 in car 11, two +numbers which, added together, produced the exact age at which +Browning published the poem of that name. At once I recited the +opening lines, "Pauline, mine own, bend o'er me--thy soft breast +shall pant to mine--bend o'er me," to the porter. + +I like to believe that the spirit of Browning arranged that +entire journey, for the other occupant of this well-omened berth +was that admirable statesman Warren G. Harding. When I sat down +I noticed that he was reading Henry Sydnor Harrison's "Queed", a +book which was justly popular at that time. I at once showed Mr. +Harding an article I had written in which I stated that not only +was "Queed" a real novel, with a real plot, and real characters, +but that I believed the readers were stimulated by the spiritual +advance of the hero. The future president agreed with me and +said he thought that literature was a great thing. Encouraged by +this I confessed that I was on my way to deliver a lecture on +modern poetry. Mr. Harding replied that he thought poetry was a +great thing. "Splendid!" I cried, and taking a copy of Browning +from my bag I read him several selections. Mr. Harding said that +of the American poets he liked James Whitcomb Riley best. +Personally, while I have for Mr. Riley only wonder and praise, I +think that the English poet strikes a more inspiring, more +eternal note. + +I then read to Mr. Harding Browning's "Evelyn Hope". He said that +he knew a Mrs. Walter Hope in Marion, but that he was not sure +her first name was Evelyn. As I knew that Mr. Harding liked a +good pun, I remarked facetiously that "hope springs eternal", +meaning that probably there were in existence several families of +that name. + +I am happy to state that with that meeting began a friendship +which has lasted for many years. When Mr. Harding was nominated +for the presidency, I wrote at once, enclosing a copy of "The +Advance of the English Novel" which I had published in 1916. On +the title-page I wrote, "To the Hero of a Much More Spectacular +Advance", meaning that the progress made by the English novel was +as nothing compared to Mr. Harding's rapid and well-deserved +rise. In reply I received the following: + + 6 July, 1920. MY DEAR +PROFESSOR PHELPS: + +Many thanks to you for your congratulations and your kindness in +sending me your brilliant, searching essays which I hope to be +able to read in the near future. + WARREN G. HARDING. + +Just as I am always glad that I am an American, so I think we +should all believe whole-heartedly in the glorious future which +lies ahead of us. We should all pay high tribute to the ideals +and sincerity of those great leaders Woodrow Wilson and Warren +Harding. What a pity that some people believe that there is any +antagonism or essential difference in the aims of those two +worthy men. Both are absolutely sincere--both try to make the +world a better, more happy place. And to the critic of history-- +as to the critic of art and literature--those are the essential +things. Viewing the past and glimpsing the future of American +history I cannot help feeling that Browning had us perhaps +unconsciously in mind when he wrote: + + God's in his heaven: All's right with the world! + + + +Chapter Two + +CRISTOFER COLOMBO A Comedy of Discovery. In the Manner of James +Branch Cabell + + In fourteen hundred ninety two In the city of Genoa. + --Old Song. + +They of Genoa tell with a shrug how in the old days Cristofer +Colombo whom men called the Dreamer left Dame Colombo to go in +search of the land of his imagining. + +And the tale tells how, on a twilight Thursday, Colombo walked +alone on the edge of a doubtful wood, and viewed many things not +salutary to notice. And there came to him one who was as +perversely tall as a certain unmentionable object and bearded in +a manner it is not convenient to describe. + +But Colombo set about that which the stranger said was necessary +and when he had finished he drank the contents of the curious +skull as had been foretold on a certain All-Saints day. Then it +was that the stranger spoke. + +"Whom are you", said he, "to be thus wandering in the very +unspeakable forest of the very unnamable sorcerer Thyrston?" + +Said Colombo, "I have heard of this Thyrston. And while I do not +criticize, yet I cannot entirely agree with your improper use of +the pronoun WHOM, and oh my dear sir", said Colombo, "those two +VERYS would surely--oh, most surely--be mentioned in 'The Conning +Tower'." + +"Eh!" said Thyrston, frowning. + +"I allude", said Colombo, "to the scribbling of a certain Adams +with whom you are doubtless familiar, and of course, my dear +Thyrston", said Colombo, "I spoke only jestingly, for I am +Cristofer Colombo whom men call the Dreamer, and I go in search +of the land of my imagining and it is truly a pleasure to meet +the greatest sorcerer since Ckellyr, and how", said Colombo, "is +dear Mrs. Thyrston?" + +Then Thyrston showed Colombo what was written on the insecure +parchment. It frightened Colombo a little, but he assented. And +when the sorcerer had borrowed a silk hat and a gold watch he +caused the skies to darken and Colombo saw that which men refuse +to believe. + +"But, oh, now really sir", said Colombo, "that is indeed +extremely clever and I do wish that the children were here to see +it and would you mind, my dear Thyrston", said Colombo, "doing +that egg trick again?" + +Then Thyrston showed Colombo that he had nothing up either sleeve +and after an interval he consented to teach Colombo the secret of +his conjuring. + +"Why now to be sure", said Colombo, after he had thoroughly +mastered the trick, "that is indeed quite simple and I am sorry I +broke those four eggs by mistake in your silk hat, and while I do +not wish to appear oversensitive, do you not think, my dear +Thyrston", said Colombo, "that the trick would go just as well +without those abominable jokes about married life?" + +"My dear sir", said Thyrston, "those jokes have been used by +every conjurer since Merlin, and while perhaps without them your +trick would work, yet I have never heard of it being done and I +have found", said Thyrston, "that in sorcery the best results are +obtained by doing the customary thing." + +"Which only goes to show", said Colombo, "that sorcery is +somewhat akin to business, and now that I think of it", said +Colombo, "I believe that the term wizard of industry is perhaps +not entirely a misnomer." + +Thus it was that Colombo took leave of Thyrston, and the tale +tells how on Walburga's Eve he came to the court of King +Ferdinand and Queen Isabel. And as he entered one met him who +was not unpleasing to the eye, and she was weeping. And, as it +was somewhat dark, Colombo decided to comfort her. + +"Now, do you tell me, my dear", said Colombo, after an interval, +"why it is you weep, for I am Colombo whom men call the Dreamer, +and I go in search of the land of my imagining, and I think", +said Colombo, "that you have most remarkably lovely eyes." + +"Oh messire", said the lady, "I weep because it is this evening +that I am to entertain the ladies of our Progress Literary Club, +and Donna Margarita whom men call the Spanish Omelet, but who +really, messire, has a lovely voice, was going to sing 'The +Rosary' and now she has a cold and cannot sing, and King +Ferdinand is coming, and oh, messire, what", said the lady, +"shall I do?" + +"Why now, truly", said Colombo, "in Genoa it was the judgment of +all the really musically intelligent ladies, except perhaps my +wife, that I sang not an unpleasing baritone, and while I do not +know the song to which you refer, yet I have devoted most of my +life to the composition of a poem concerning the land of my +imagining which might well be sung and besides that", said +Colombo, "I can do a most remarkable egg trick." + +So it was that Colombo became for a short time not undeservedly +the life of the Progress Literary Club party. And the tale tells +how, after a paper by Donna Violet Balboa on "Spanish +Architecture--Then and Now", Colombo sang to them the song of the +land of Colombo's imagining. And poignantly beautiful was the +song, for in it was the beauty of a poet's dream, and the eternal +loveliness of that vision which men have glimpsed in all ages if +ever so faintly. And when he had finished, the eyes of Colombo +were wet with tears, for into this poem had he woven the dreams +of his disillusionment. And somewhat ironical to Colombo was the +applause of those fine ladies who did not at all understand. + +"Now that is a pretty song", said King Ferdinand, "and do you +tell us, Colombo, how one may get to this land, so that I may +extend the borders of my most Catholic Kingdom and spread the +teachings of the true faith, for to bring the world under the +blessed influence of my religion is my only purpose, and really +now", said King Ferdinand, "is there as much gold there as you +describe?" + +"Ah, King Ferdinand", replied Colombo, "there is more gold than +ever I can tell, and I see only too plainly how grievously you +suffer to think that perhaps these people are living in ignorance +of the true faith. And I could ask nothing better than that King +Ferdinand give me ships in which I may sail to the westward and +come at last to the land of my imagining. This I would do in +order that the blessed soldiers of King Ferdinand who will follow +me may show to the inhabitants of my discovered land the grievous +errors of their ways and bring them at last to a realization of +the true faith which has been so helpful to our own dear Spain, +and", added Colombo, "our gracious sovereign Ferdinand." + +And droll it was to Colombo to think what might possibly happen +were King Ferdinand to take his dream seriously or were the King +perhaps to be informed as to the true meaning of Colombo's +subtleties. + +"Well, now", said King Ferdinand, "of course, to fit out such an +expedition would require great expense, my dear Colombo--great +expense. And, of course, you know, Colombo, that when investors +can buy Inquisition 4 1/4's for 89 it would be extremely +difficult to raise the money for such a speculative project--oh, +extremely difficult. And then you must consider the present +depression--tell me now, Colombo", said King Ferdinand, "how long +do you think this depression will last, for I seek, above all +things, a return to healthy normalcy." + +"Well, truly", replied Colombo, "that would be most difficult to +say. I note that on Rodigruez Babsyn's last chart--" + +"I wish this Babsyn and his charts were in hell", said King +Ferdinand, "for it was he who advised me to sell Queen Isabel's +silver holdings. But it occurs to me, Colombo, that in connection +with this land-of-gold scheme of yours, you mentioned something +about sailing to the westward. Now Colombo, that would be a +distinct disadvantage when it came to marketing the bonds, for as +you must already know, one cannot sail to the west without +encountering fierce and enormous monsters who swallow, I am told, +whole ships at a gulp." + +"Now as to that", said Colombo, somewhat embarrassed at the turn +of the conversation for WEST had merely happened to better suit +the rhymes of his poem, "you may be right, and I should not go so +far as to say you are wrong, but still at the same time", said +Colombo, "is there any gentleman in the audience who can lend me +an egg and a silk hat?" + +And when an unmentionable egg and a doubtful silk hat had been +produced in a manner which it is not convenient to mention +Colombo rolled up both his sleeves and spoke the magic speech as +he had learned it on a certain Thursday from the sorcerer +Thyrston. + +"Ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I have here a common +household egg which I shall now ask the ushers to pass among you +so you may see for yourself that there are no wires or strings +attached. While this is being done, ladies and gentlemen, I wish +that three of you would step up on the stage. Any three--don't +be bashful girls-- I won't hurt you. Won't that couple over +there kindly oblige me-- that married couple--no, folks, I guess +they aren't married either-- they look too happy." + +Very painful it was to Colombo to hear these horrible jokes +coming from his mouth, but Thyrston had quoted the authority of +all successful sorcerers and not for anything would Colombo have +had his trick a failure. + +"Now ladies and gentlemen", said Colombo, "I am going to ask this +lady and these two gentlemen if they will be so good as to see if +they can take this little egg and make it stand on end without +any support." + +And very droll it was to see the unsuccessful attempts which the +three made. Finally Colombo said: + +"Now ladies and gentlemen, I want you to watch me closely. I put +the silk hat on my head--thus. And I take the egg in my right +hand--thus. Now, if this young lady will be kind enough to hold +my left hand--I hope that her best fellow doesn't mind letting +such a pretty girl hold my hand--it's lucky my wife can't see me, +though--a friend said to me the other day, 'Who was that lady I +seen you with?' and I said, 'That wasn't no lady, that was my +wife'. Now ladies and gentlemen I take this egg, and in order to +make it stand upright I tap one end gently-- thus against the +table until that end is flattened-- and then, presto--the egg +stands upright. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you one and all +for your kind attention." + +Thus it was that Colombo impressed King Ferdinand and his court +with his profound knowledge of geography. Next the tale tells +how there came to Colombo on Michaelmas Eve one sent by Queen +Isabel, And when Colombo had buckled on his sword Impavide he +followed the messenger through winding corridors and came at last +to the chamber of the Queen. And as he knelt before her it +seemed to Colombo that never before had he seen such +unforgettable beauty as shone in the eyes of Queen Isabel. Yes, +truly, this was the loveliest girl that Colombo had ever +imagined. + +"Now do you rise", said she, "and you and I shall have a nice +chat alone here together, and you can tell me all about geography +of which I am oh, frightfully ignorant. In truth", said she, "I +have tried to get Ferdinand to instruct me, but I fear", said +Queen Isabel, "that Ferdinand does not understand me." + +So Colombo instructed Queen Isabel in the fundamentals of +geography. And after a while he spoke. + +"Now many people", said Colombo, "believe that the earth is flat, +but", said Colombo, "such is not at all the case." + +And after an interval Colombo said, "There, my dear, do you not +see how ridiculous it is to suppose that the earth is anything +but round?" + +"Why surely, sire", said Queen Isabel, "you make it appear very +round. And I wonder that I had not thought of that before. And I +think", said Queen Isabel, "that geography is a most fascinating +subject and oh, messire Colombo", said the Queen, "you must come +and instruct me often." + +Thus it was that Colombo became Royal Geographer. And the tale +tells how after a while various whisperings came to King +Ferdinand of his queen's curious enthusiasm for study. + +"Now about this geography", said King Ferdinand one evening to +the Queen, "I am, my dear, indeed glad to see you take an +interest in such an important study and I have arranged", said +the King, "to have your tutoring in the future done by Father +Bernadino who has had fifty-two years' experience at the +University, and your lessons", said the King, "will commence +tomorrow." + +Said the Queen, "How can I thank you enough, dear Ferdinand, for +your untiring interest in my welfare. For I have been struggling +along in my study of geography with a horribly dull clod whose +name", said the Queen, "I cannot remember." + +"Was it, by any chance, Colombo?" asked the King. + +"Perhaps", said the Queen. "But I am oh so glad to be rid of +him." And indeed so great was the happiness of Queen Isabel that +her pillow that night was wet with tears. + +But King Ferdinand was an unusually efficient king, and he spared +no pains in his craving for normalcy. So it was that the next +day he called to him the man who had chanced to be Royal +Geographer before the coup d'oeuf of Colombo. + +"Now tell me", said the King, "is there any chance that a man who +sails to the westward will ever return?" + +"None, your Majesty", said the ex-Royal Geographer. "For many +have tried and horrible are the tales which they tell of demons +and monsters lying in wait for the ships of men. And I should say +definitely, oh King", said he, "that whoever sails to the +westward will never return." + +And the tale tells how that afternoon Colombo stood before King +Ferdinand. And very strange to Colombo was the enthusiasm which +burned in the King's otherwise somewhat fishlike eye. + +"For know you, Colombo", the King was saying, "that God has +spoken to me and commanded me to save from the fires of hell the +inhabitants of those golden lands of which you sang. And to you, +my dear Colombo, is to be given the chance which you so ardently +desire. For I have this day purchased three ships which await +your command, and within a week you should be well on your way on +this glorious mission for God and for Spain, and", said the King, +"I might add that the Queen, too, is much interested in this +voyage and has even been persuaded to dispose of her jewels in +order that you may make haste." + +"Such instant obedience to the will of God", said Colombo, "and +such fine enthusiasm to further His kingdom on earth, does your +Majesties great credit. And I shall indeed congratulate the +inhabitants of this to-be-discovered land for their good fortune +in obtaining such a devout King." + +And the tale tells how that night Colombo took leave of Queen +Isabel. "Now do not weep, oh Queen", said he, "for I am only +Colombo whom men call the Dreamer, and I go in search of the land +of my imagining, and perhaps", said Colombo, "I shall return." +But they tell how Queen Isabel refused to be comforted for many +and many a day. And unexplainably curious to Father Bernadino +was his absolute and complete failure as a royal instructor in +geography, for Father Bernadino had taught for fifty-two years at +the University. + +And so it was that Colombo sat alone in the cabin of the ship +which carried him towards the land of his imagining. And strange +and somewhat fearsome it was to the sailors to see their captain +sitting thus motionless night after night, for already had they +left the Canaries far behind and some there were who said that a +madman commanded their ship, and others who whispered of horrible +monsters in these western seas. + +And the tale tells how one night Colombo observed across his +table one who had not been sitting there a moment before and +whose hair was strangely red. + +"Well now, truly, sir", said Colombo, "This is very curious. For +I do not remember seeing you among the crew nor were you ever at +the court, and on the whole", said Colombo, "your red hair and +your sneering grin interrupt my dreams, and dreams", said +Colombo, "are all that I have left." + +"For know you, sir", continued he to the stranger who did not +speak, "that on this earth man has been able to endure only by +playing the ape to his dreams. And in every generation", said +Colombo, "there have been those who dreamed of beautiful things +and in every age there have been those who caught some glimpse of +that perfect beauty which the Greeks call Helen, and to have seen +Helen", said Colombo, "is to have been touched with divine and +unbearable madness." + +And it became strangely quiet in the cabin as Colombo continued: + +"And those authors who wrote perfectly of beautiful dreams", said +he, "will, perchance, endure, and those who saw only men as they +are, will perish--for so has it been in the past and so will it +be in the future. All of which", said Colombo, "is a rather +tiresome and pedantic excuse for the fact that I am about to read +you my own poem." + +And Colombo read to the stranger the dream of the land of +Colombo's imagining, and when he had finished the stranger smiled +and shook his head sadly. + +"Come, now," said Colombo, somewhat hurt. "Do not, I pray you, +pretend to like it unless you really do. Of course it is not at +all the kind of thing that will sell, is it-- and the metre must +be patched up in places, don't you think? And some of the most +beautiful passages would never be permitted by the censor--but +still--" and Colombo paused hopefully, for it was Colombo's poem +and into it he had poured the heart of his life and it seemed to +him now, more than ever, a beautiful thing. + +The stranger handed Colombo a book. + +"There", said he, "is the land of your imagining", and in his +eyes gleamed a curious sardonic mockery. + +And Colombo read the book. And when he had finished his face was +grey as are old ashes in ancient urns, and about the mouth of him +whom men called the Dreamer were curious hard lines. + +"Now, by Heaven", said Colombo brandishing his sword Impavide, +"you lie. And your Gopher Prairie is a lie. And you are all, all +contemptible, you who dip your pens in tracing ink and seek to +banish beautiful dreams from the world." + +But the red-haired stranger had vanished and Colombo found that +he was alone and to Colombo the world seemed cheerless and as a +place that none has lived in for a long time. + +"Now this is curious", mused Colombo, "for I have evidently been +dreaming and a more horrible dream have I never had, and I +think", said Colombo, "that while all this quite certainly did +not actually take place, yet that grinning red head has upset me +horribly and on the whole", said Colombo, "I believe the safest +course would be to put back at once for Spain, for certainly I +have no desire to take the remotest chance of discovering +anything which may in the least resemble that Gopher Prairie." + +And the tale tells that as Colombo started for the deck in order +that he might give the signal for the return to Spain, there came +across the water from one of the other ships the faint cry of a +sailor. And the sailor was waving his hat and shouting, "Land +Ho!" + +Thus it was that Cristofer Colombo became the discoverer of the +land of his imagining, and as he stood on the deck Colombo mused. + +"Now this is a sorrowful jest and a very unfair jest that is +happening," said he. "For I who have dreamed a beautiful dream +of the land of my imagining will quite probably henceforth be +known only as the discoverer of what will turn out to be merely +one more hideous and stupid country." And tears came to the eyes +of Colombo, for on the waves behind him floated the torn and +scattered pages of the poem which sang the imagined vision of +Beauty of him whom men long and long ago called the +Dreamer. + +Thus it was in the old days. + + + +ANALYSIS AND SUMMARY OF THE FOREGOING ARTICLE In the Manner of +Dr. Frank Crane + +There is a lesson for us all in this beautiful story of how +Columbus realized his ambition to be a great discoverer. + +Men called Columbus a Dreamer--but that is just what folks once +said about Thomas A. Edison and Henry Ford. + +The world has a place for Dreamers--if they are Practical +Dreamers. + +Columbus was ambitious. Ambition is a great thing if it is +unselfish ambition. By unselfish I mean for the greatest good of +the greatest number. Shakespeare, the great teacher, shows us in +"Macbeth" what happens to the selfishly ambitious man. + +Columbus got ahead by paying attention to small details. +Whatever he did, he did to the best of his ability. Even when +engaged in teaching geography to the Queen, Columbus was the best +geography teacher he knew how to be. And before long he was made +Royal Geographer. + +In our daily lives let us all resolve to be good teachers of +geography. We may not all become Royal Geographers--but there +will be to us the lasting satisfaction of having done our best. +And that, as a greater than I has said, is "more precious than +rubies--yea, than much fine gold". + + + +Chapter Three + +MAIN STREET: Plymouth, Mass. + +In the Manner of Sinclair Lewis + +I + +1620. + +Late autumn. + +The sour liver-colored shores of America. + +Breaking waves dashing too high on a stern and rockbound coast. + +Woods tossing giant branches planlessly against a stormy sky. + +Cape Cod Bay--wet and full of codfish. The codfish--wet and full +of bones. + +Standing on the deck of the anchored "Mayflower", gazing +reflectively at the shores of the new world, is Priscilla +Kennicott. + +A youthful bride on a ship full of pilgrims; a lily floating in a +dish of prunes; a cloissone vase in a cargo of oil cans. + +Her husband joins her. Together they go forward to where their +fellow pilgrims are preparing to embark in small boats. + +Priscilla jumps into the bow of the first of these to shove off. + +As the small craft bumps the shore, Priscilla rises joyously. She +stretches her hands in ecstasy toward the new world. She leans +forward against the breeze, her whole figure alive with the joy +of expectant youth. + +She leaps with an irrepressible "Yippee" from the boat to the +shore. + +She remains for an instant, a vibrant pagan, drunk with the joy +of life; Pan poised for an unforgettable moment on Plymouth Rock. + +The next minute her foot slips on the hard, wet, unyielding +stone. She clutches desperately. She slides slowly back into the +cold chill saltness of Cape Cod Bay. + +She is pulled, dripping and ashamed, into the boat. She crouches +there, shivering and hopeless. She hears someone whisper, "Pride +goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." + +A coarse mirthless chuckle. + +The pilgrims disembark. + +II + +Plymouth. + +A year later. + +Night. + +She lay sleepless on her bed. + +She heard the outside door open; Kennicott returning from prayer +meeting. + +He sat down on the bed and began pulling off his boots. She knew +that the left boot would stick. She knew exactly what he would +say and how long it would take him to get it off. She rolled over +in bed, a tactical movement which left no blanket for her +husband. + +"You weren't at prayer meeting," he said. + +"I had a headache," she lied. He expressed no sympathy. + +"Miles Standish was telling me what you did today at the meeting +of the Jolly Seventeen." He had got the boot off at last; he lay +down beside her and pulled all the blankets off her onto +himself. + +"That was kind of Miles." She jerked at the covers but he held +them tight. "What charming story did he tell this time?" + +"Now look here, Prissie--Miles Standish isn't given to +fabrication. He said you told the Jolly Seventeen that next +Thanksgiving they ought to give a dance instead of an all-day +prayer service." + +"Well--anything else?" She gave a tremendous tug at the +bedclothes and Kennicott was uncovered again. + +"He said you suggested that they arrange a series of lectures on +modern religions, and invite Quakers and other radicals to speak +right here in Plymouth and tell us all about their beliefs. And +not only that but he said you suggested sending a message to the +Roman Catholic exiles from England, inviting them to make their +home with us. You must have made quite a little speech." + +"Well this is the land of religious freedom, isn't it? That's +what you came here for, didn't you?" She sat up to deliver this +remark--a movement which enabled Kennicott to win back +seven-eighths of the bed covering. + +"Now look here Prissie--I'm not narrow like some of these +pilgrims who came over with us. But I won't have my wife +intimating that a Roman Catholic or a Quaker should be allowed to +spread his heresies broadcast in this country. It's all right for +you and me to know something about those things, but we must +protect our children and those who have not had our advantages. +The only way to meet this evil is to stamp it out, quick, before +it can get a start. And it's just such so-called broadminded +thinkers as you that encourage these heretics. You'll be +criticizing the Bible next, I suppose." + +Thus in early times did the pious Right Thinkers save the land +from Hellfire and Damnation; thus the great-grandfathers of +middle-western congressmen; thus the ancestors of platitudinous +editorial writers, Sitters on Committees, and tin-horn +prohibitionists. + +Kennicott got up to cool his wrath and indignation with a drink +of water. He stumbled over a chair, reached for the jug, took a +drink, set the jug down, stumbled over the same chair, and +crawled back into bed. His expedition cost him the loss of all +bed covering; he gave up the fight. + +"Aside from dragging my own private views over the coals of your +righteousness, did you and your friends find anything equally +pleasant and self-satisfying to discuss this +evening?" + +"Eh--what's that? Why, yes, we did. We decided to refuse +permission for one of these traveling medicine shows to operate +in Plymouth." + +"Medicine shows?" + +"Yes--you know--like a fair in England. This one claims to come +from down south somewhere. 'Smart Set Medicine Show' it's +called, run by a fellow named Mencken. Sells cheap whisky to the +Indians-- makes them crazy, they say. He's another one of your +radical friends we don't want around." + +"Yes, he might cut in on your own trading with the Indians." + +"Oh, for heaven's sake, Prissie--hire a hall." + +Silence. He began to snore. + +She lay there, sleepless and open-eyed. The clock struck eleven. + +"Why can't I get to sleep?" + +("Did Will put the cat out?") + +"I wonder what this medicine show is like?" + +"What is the matter with these people?" + +("Or is it me?") + +She reached down, pulled the blankets from under her, spread them +carefully over the sleeping Kennicott, patting them down +affectionately. + +The next day she learned what the medicine show was like. She +also learned what was the matter with the pilgrims. + +III + +Morning. + +A fog horn. + +A fog horn blowing unceasingly. + +At breakfast Kennicott pointed with his fork in the direction of +the persistent sound. + +"There's your Smart Set medicine show," he said glumly. "He +doesn't seem to care much whether we give him a permit or not." +Then, a minute later, "We'll have to let him stay. Won't do to +have the Indians down on us. But I tell you this, Priscilla, I +don't want you to go." + +"But Will--" + +"Prissie, please! I'm sorry I said what I did last night. I was +tired. But don't you see, well, I can't just exactly explain-- +but this fog horn sort of scares me--I don't like it--" + +He suddenly rose and put both hands on her shoulders. He looked +into her eyes. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He +picked up his hat and was gone. It was five minutes before +Priscilla noticed that his breakfast had been left untouched. + +A fog horn, sounding unceasingly. + +She listlessly put away the breakfast dishes. She tried to drown +out the sound by singing hymns. She fell on her knees and tried +to pray. She found her prayers keeping time to the rise and fall +of the notes of that horn. She determined to go out in the +air--to find her husband--to go to church, anywhere--as far as +possible from the Smart Set medicine show. + +So she went out the back door and ran as fast as she could toward +the place from which came the sound of the fog horn. + +IV + +An open space on the edge of the forest. + +In the centre of the clearing a small gaudily-painted tent. + +Seated on the ground in a semicircle before the tent, some forty +or fifty Indians. + +Standing on a box before the entrance to the tent, a man of +twenty-five or fifty. + +In his left hand he holds a fog horn; in his right, a stein of +beer. + +He puts the horn to his lips and blows heavy blast. + +He bellows, "Beauty--Beauty--Beauty!" + +He takes a drink of beer. + +He repeats this performance nine times. + +He takes up some mud and deftly models the features of several +well-known characters--statesmen, writers, critics. In many +cases the resemblance is so slight that Priscilla can hardly +recognize the character. + +He picks up a heavy club and proceeds to beat each one of his +modeled figures into a pulp. + +The Indians applaud wildly. + +He pays no attention to this applause. + +He clears his throat and begins to speak. Priscilla is so +deafened by the roar of his voice that she cannot hear what he +says. Apparently he is introducing somebody; somebody named +George. + +George steps out of the tent, but does not bow to the audience. +In one hand he carries a fencing foil, well constructed, of +European workmanship; in his other hand he holds a number of +pretty toy balloons which he has made himself. + +He smiles sarcastically, tosses the balloons into the air, and +cleverly punctures them one by one with his rapier. + +At each "pop" the announcer blows a loud blast on the fog +horn. + +When the last balloon has been punctured George retires without +acknowledging the applause of the Indians. + +The next act is announced as Helen of Troy in "Six Minutes of +Beauty". Priscilla learns from the announcer that "this little +lady is out of 'Irony' by Theodore Dreiser". + +"All ready, Helen--" + +The "little lady" appears. + +She is somewhat over six feet six in height and built like a +boilermaker. She is dressed in pink tights. + +"Six Minutes of Beauty" begins when Helen picks up three large +iron cannon balls and juggles them. She tosses them in the air +and catches them cleverly on the back of her neck. + +The six minutes are brought to a successful conclusion when +Helen, hanging head downward by one foot from a trapeze, balances +lighted lamp on the other foot and plays Beethoven's Fifth +Symphony on the slide trombone. + +The announcer then begins his lecture. Priscilla has by this +time gotten used to the overpowering roar of his voice and she +discovers that once this difficulty is overcome she is +tremendously impressed by his words. + +She becomes more and more attracted to the man. She listens, +fascinated, as his lecture draws to a close and he offers his +medicine for sale. She presses forward through the crowd of +Indians surrounding the stand. She reaches the tent. She gives +her coin and receives in return a bottle. She hides it in her +cape and hurries home. + +She slips in the back way; she pours some of the medicine into a +glass; she drinks it. + +V + +A terrible overwhelming nausea. Vomiting, which lasts for +agonizing minutes, leaving her helpless on the floor. + +Then cessation. + +Then light--blinding light. + +VI + +At 3:10 Priscilla drank the Mencken medicine; at 3:12 she was +lying in agony on the floor; at 3:20 she opened her eyes; at 3:21 +she walked out of her front door; and at 3:22 she discovered what +was wrong with Plymouth and the pilgrims. + +Main Street. Straight and narrow. A Puritan thoroughfare in a +Puritan town. + +The church. A centre of Puritan worship. The shrine of a narrow +theology which persistently repressed beauty and joy and life. + +The Miles Standish house. The house of a Puritan. A squat, +unlovely symbol of repression. Beauty crushed by Morality. + +Plymouth Rock. Hard, unyielding--like the Puritan moral code. A +huge tombstone on the grave of Pan. + +She fled home. She flung herself, sobbing, on the bed. She +cried, "They're all Puritans that's what they are, Puritans!" + +After a while she slept, her cheeks flushed, her heart beating +unnaturally. + +VII + +Late that night. + +She opened her eyes; she heard men's voices; she felt her heart +still pounding within her at an alarming rate. + +"And I told them then that it would come to no good end. Truly, +the Lord does not countenance such joking." + +She recognized the voices of Miles Standish and Elder Brewster. + +"Well--what happened then?" This from Kennicott. + +"Well, you see, Henry Haydock got some of this Mencken's medicine +from one of the Indians. And he thought it would be a good joke +to put it in the broth at the church supper this evening." + +"Yes?" + +"Well--he did it, the fool. And when the broth was served, hell +on earth broke loose. Everyone started calling his neighbor a +Puritan, and cursing him for having banished Beauty from the +earth. The Lord knows what they meant by that; I don't. Old +friends fought like wildcats, shrieking 'Puritan' at each other. +Luckily it only got to one table--but there are ten raving +lunatics in the lockup tonight. + +"It's an awful thing. But thanks to the Lord, some good has come +out of this evil: that medicine man, Mencken, was standing +outside looking in at the rumpus, smiling to himself I guess. +Well, somebody saw him and yelled, 'There's another of those +damned Puritans!' and before he could get away five of them had +jumped on him and beaten him to death. He deserved it, and it's a +good joke on him that they killed him for being a Puritan." + +Priscilla could stand no more. She rose from her bed, rushed +into the room, and faced the three Puritans. In the voice of +Priscilla Kennicott but with the words of the medicine man she +scourged them. + +"A good joke?" she began. "And that is what you Puritan +gentlemen of God and volcanoes of Correct Thought snuffle over as +a good joke? Well, with the highest respect to Professor Doctor +Miles Standish, the Puritan Hearse-hound, and Professor Doctor +Elder Brewster, the Plymouth Dr. Frank Crane--BLAA!" + +She shrieked this last in their faces and fell lifeless at their +feet. + +She never recovered consciousness; an hour later she died. An +overdose of the medicine had been too much for her weak +heart. + +"Poor William," comforted Elder Brewster, "you must be brave. You +will miss her sorely. But console yourself with the thought that +it was for the best. Priscilla has gone where she will always be +happy. She has at last found that bliss which she searched for in +vain on earth." + +"Yes William," added Miles Standish. "Priscilla has now found +eternal joy." + +VIII + +Heaven. + +Smug saints with ill-fitting halos and imitation wings, singing +meaningless hymns which Priscilla had heard countless times +before. + +Sleek prosaic angels flying aimlessly around playing stale songs +on sickly yellow harps. + +Three of the harps badly out of tune; two strings missing on +another. + +Moses, a Jew. + +Methuselah, another Jew. Old and unshaven. + +Priscilla threw herself on a cloud, sobbing. + +"Well, sister, what seems to be the matter here?" + +She looked up; she saw a sympathetic stranger looking down at +her. + +"Because you know, sister," he went on, "if you don't like it +here you can always go back any time you want to." + +"Do you mean to say," gasped Priscilla, "that I can return to +earth?" + +"You certainly can," said the stranger. "I'm sort of manager +here, and whenever you see any particular part of the earth you'd +like to live in, you just let me know and I'll arrange it." + +He smiled and was gone. + +IX + +It was two hundred years before Priscilla Kennicott definitely +decided that she could stand it no longer in heaven; it was +another hundred years before she located a desirable place on +earth to return to. + +She finally selected a small town in the American northwest, far +from the Puritan-tainted Plymouth; a small town in the midst of +fields of beautiful waving grain; a small town free from the +artificiality of large cities; a small town named Gopher +Prairie. + +She made known her desire to the manager; she said goodby to a +small group of friends who had gathered to see her off; she heard +the sound of the eternal harp playing and hymn singing grow +gradually fainter and fainter; she closed her eyes. + +When she opened them again she found herself on Main Street in +Gopher Prairie. + +X + +From the "Heavenly Harp and Trumpet": + +Mrs. Priscilla Kennicott, one of our most popular angels, left +these parts last Tuesday for an extended visit to the Earth. +Mrs. K. confided to Ye Editor that she would probably take up her +residence in Gopher Prairie, Minn., under the name of Carol +Kennicott. The "Harp and Trumpet" felicitates the citizens of +Gopher Prairie on their acquisition of a charming and up-to-date +young matron whose absence will be keenly regretted by her many +friends in the heavenly younger married set. Good luck, +Priscilla! + +XI + +Heaven. + +Five years later. + +The monthly meeting of the Celestial Browning Club. + +Seated in the chair reserved for the guest of honor, the manager. + +The meeting opens as usual with a reading by Brother Robert +Browning of his poem "Pippa Passes"; as he proclaims that "God's +in his heaven, all's right with the world", the members applaud +and the manager rises and bows. + +The chairman announces that "today we take up a subject in which +I am sure we are all extremely interested--the popular literature +of the United States". + +The members listen to selected extracts from the writings of Gene +Stratton-Porter, Zane Grey, and Harold Bell Wright; at the +conclusion they applaud and the manager again bows. + +"I am sure", says the chairman, "that we are all glad to hear +that things are going so nicely in the United States." +(Applause.) "And now, in conclusion, Brother Voltaire has +requested permission to address us for a few minutes, and I am +sure that anything Brother Voltaire has to say will be eminently +worthwhile." + +Brother Voltaire rises and announces that he has listened with +interest to the discussion of American literature; that he, too, +rejoices that all is well in this best of all possible United +States; and that he hopes they will pardon him if he supplements +the program by reading a few extracts from another extremely +popular American book recently published under the name of "Main +Street". + +XII + +At the next meeting of the Celestial Browning Club it was +unanimously voted that the privileges of the club be denied +Brother Voltaire for the period of one year, and that the name of +Priscilla Kennicott be stricken from the list of non-resident +members of heaven. + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + +THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH + +In the Manner of F. Scott Fitzgerald + +This story occurs under the blue skies and bluer laws of Puritan +New England, in the days when religion was still taken seriously +by a great many people, and in the town of Plymouth where the +"Mayflower", having ploughed its platitudinous way from Holland, +had landed its precious cargo of pious Right Thinkers, moral +Gentlemen of God, and--Priscilla. + +Priscilla was--well, Priscilla had yellow hair. In a later +generation, in a 1921 June, if she had toddled by at a country +club dance you would have noticed first of all that glorious mass +of bobbed corn-colored locks. You would, then, perhaps, have +glanced idly at her face, and suddenly said "Oh my gosh!" The +next moment you would have clutched the nearest stag and hissed, +"Quick--yellow hair--silver dress--oh Judas!" You would then +have been introduced, and after dancing nine feet you would have +been cut in on by another panting stag. In those nine delirious +feet you would have become completely dazed by one of the +smoothest lines since the building of the Southern Pacific. You +would then have borrowed somebody's flask, gone into the locker +room and gotten an edge--not a bachelor-dinner edge but just +enough to give you the proper amount of confidence. You would +have returned to the ballroom, cut in on this twentieth century +Priscilla, and taken her and your edge out to a convenient +limousine, or the first tee. + +It was of some such yellow-haired Priscilla that Homer dreamed +when he smote his lyre and chanted, "I sing of arms and the man"; +it was at the sight of such as she that rare Ben Johnson's Dr. +Faustus cried, "Was this the face that launched a thousand +ships?" In all ages has such beauty enchanted the minds of men, +calling forth in one century the Fiesolian terza rima of +"Paradise Lost", in another the passionate arias of a dozen +Beethoven symphonies. In 1620 the pagan daughter of Helen of Troy +and Cleopatra of the Nile happened, by a characteristic jest of +the great Ironist, to embark with her aunt on the +"Mayflower". + +Like all girls of eighteen Priscilla had learned to kiss and be +kissed on every possible occasion; in the exotic and not at all +uncommon pleasure of "petting" she had acquired infinite wisdom +and complete disillusionment. But in all her "petting parties" on +the "Mayflower" and in Plymouth she had found no Puritan who held +her interest beyond the first kiss, and she had lately reverted +in sheer boredom to her boarding school habit of drinking gin in +large quantities, a habit which was not entirely approved of by +her old-fashioned aunt, although Mrs. Brewster was glad to have +her niece stay at home in the evenings "instead", as she told +Mrs. Bradford, "of running around with those boys, and really, my +dear, Priscilla says some of the FUNNIEST things when she gets a +little er--'boiled', as she calls it--you must come over some +evening, and bring the governor." + +Mrs. Brewster, Priscilla's aunt, is the ancestor of all New +England aunts. She may be seen today walking down Tremont Street, +Boston, in her Educator shoes on her way to S. S. Pierce's which +she pronounces to rhyme with HEARSE. The twentieth century Mrs. +Brewster wears a highnecked black silk waist with a chatelaine +watch pinned over her left breast and a spot of Gordon's codfish +(no bones) over her right. When a little girl she was taken to +see Longfellow, Lowell, and Ralph Waldo Emerson; she speaks +familiarly of the James boys, but this has no reference to the +well-known Missouri outlaws. She was brought up on blueberry +cake, Postum and "The Atlantic Monthly"; she loves the Boston +"Transcript", God, and her relatives in Newton Centre. Her idea +of a daring joke is the remark Susan Hale made to Edward Everett +Hale about sending underwear to the heathen. She once asked +Donald Ogden Stewart to dinner with her niece; she didn't think +his story about the lady mind reader who read the man's mind and +then slapped his face, was very funny; she never asked him again. + +The action of this story all takes place in MRS. BREWSTER'S +Plymouth home on two successive June evenings. As the figurative +curtain rises MRS. BREWSTER is sitting at a desk reading the +latest instalment of Foxe's "Book of Martyrs". + +The sound of a clanking sword is heard outside. MRS. BREWSTER +looks up, smiles to herself, and goes on reading. A knock--a +timid knock. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Come in. + +(Enter CAPTAIN MIKES STANDISH, whiskered and forty. In a later +generation, with that imposing mustache and his hatred of +Indians, Miles would undoubtedly have been a bank president. At +present he seems somewhat ill at ease, and obviously relieved to +find only PRISCILLA'S aunt at home.) + +MRS. BREWSTER: Good evening, Captain Standish. + +MILES: Good evening, Mrs. Brewster. It's--it's cool for June, +isn't it? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Yes. I suppose we'll pay, for it with a hot +July, though. + +MILES (nervously): Yes, but it--it is cool for June, isn't it? + +MRS. BREWSTER: So you said, Captain. + +MILES: Yes. So I said, didn't I? (Silence.) + +MILES: Mistress Priscilla isn't home, then? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Why, I don't think so, Captain But I never can +be sure where Priscilla is. + +MILES (eagerly): She's a--a fine girl, isn't she? A fine girl. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Why, yes. Of course, Priscilla has her faults +but she'd make some man a fine wife--some man who knew how to +handle her-- an older man, with experience. + +MILES: Do you really think so, Mrs. Brewster? (After a minute.) +Do you think Priscilla is thinking about marrying anybody in +particular? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Well, I can't say, Captain. You know--she's a +little wild. Her mother was wild, too, you know--that is, before +the Lord spoke to her. They say she used to be seen at the +Mermaid Tavern in London with all those play-acting people. She +always used to say that Priscilla would marry a military man. + +MILES: A military man? Well, now tell me Mrs. Brewster, do you +think that a sweet delicate creature like Priscilla-- + +A VOICE (in the next room): Oh DAMN! + +MRS. BREWSTER: That must be Priscilla now. + +THE VOICE: Auntie! + +MRS. BREWSTER: Yes, Priscilla dear. + +THE VOICE: Where in hell did you put the vermouth? + +MRS. BREWSTER: In the cupboard, dear. I do hope you aren't +going to get--er--"boiled" again tonight, Priscilla. (Enter +PRISCILLA, infinitely radiant, infinitely beautiful, with a +bottle of vermouth in one hand and a jug of gin in the other.) +PRISCILLA: Auntie, that was a dirty trick to hide the vermouth. +Hello Miles--shoot many Indians today? + +MILES: Why--er er--no, Mistress Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Wish you'd take me with you next time, Miles. I'd +love to shoot an Indian, wouldn't you, auntie? + +MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! What an idea! And please dear, give +Auntie Brewster the gin. I--er--promised to take some to the +church social tonight and it's almost all gone now. + +MILES: I didn't see you at church last night, Mistress +Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Well I'll tell you, Miles. I started to go to +church-- really felt awfully religious. But just as I was +leaving I thought, "Priscilla, how about a drink--just one little +drink?" You know, Miles, church goes so much better when you're +just a little boiled-- the lights and everything just kind +of--oh, its glorious. Well last night, after I'd had a little +liquor, the funniest thing happened. I felt awfully good, not +like church at all-- so I just thought I'd take a walk in the +woods. And I came to a pool--a wonderful honest-to-God +pool--with the moon shining right into the middle of it. So I +just undressed and dove in and it was the most marvelous thing in +the world. And then I danced on the bank in the grass and the +moonlight-- oh, Lordy, Miles, you ought to have seen me. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Priscilla! + +PRISCILLA: 'Scuse me, Auntie Brewster. And then I just lay in +the grass and sang and laughed. + +MRS. BREWSTER: Dear, you'll catch your death of cold one of +these nights. I hope you'll excuse me, Captain Standish; it's +time I was going to our social. I'll leave Priscilla to +entertain you. Now be a good girl, Priscilla, and please dear +don't drink straight vermouth--remember what happened last time. +Good night, Captain--good night, dear. + +(Exit MRS. BREWSTER with gin.) + +PRISCILLA: Oh damn! What'll we do, Miles--I'm getting awfully +sleepy. + +MILES: Why--we might--er--pet a bit. + +PRISCILLA (yawning): No. I'm too tired--besides, I hate whiskers. + +MILES: Yes, that's so, I remember. (Ten minutes' silence, with +MILES looking sentimentally into the fireplace, PRISCILLA curled +up in a chair on the other side.) + +MILES: I was--your aunt and I--we were talking about you before +you came in. It was a talk that meant a lot to me. + +PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind closing that window? + +(MILES closes the window and returns to his chair by the +fireplace.) + +MILES: And your aunt told me that your mother said you would +some day marry a military man. + +PRISCILLA: Miles, would you mind passing me that pillow over +there? + +(MILES gets up, takes the pillow to PRISCILLA and again sits +down. + +MILES: And I thought that if you wanted a military man why-- +well, I've always thought a great deal of you, Mistress +Priscilla-- and since my Rose died I've been pretty lonely, and +while I'm nothing but a rough old soldier yet--well, what I'm +driving at is-- you see, maybe you and I could sort of--well, I'm +not much of a hand at fancy love speeches and all that--but + +(He is interrupted by a snore. He glances up and sees that +PRISCILLA has fallen fast asleep. He sits looking hopelessly +into the fireplace for a long time, then gets up, puts on his hat +and tiptoes out of the door.) + +THE NEXT EVENING + +PRISCILLA is sitting alone, lost in revery, before the fireplace. +It is almost as if she had not moved since the evening before. + +A knock, and the door opens to admit JOHN ALDEN, nonchalant, +disillusioned, and twenty-one. + +JOHN: Good evening. Hope I don't bother you. + +PRISCILLA: The only people who bother me are women who tell me +I'm beautiful and men who don't. + +JOHN: Not a very brilliant epigram--but still--yes, you ARE +beautiful. + +PRISCILLA: Of course, if it's an effort for you to say-- + +JOHN: Nothing is worthwhile without effort. + +PRISCILLA: Sounds like Miles Standish; many things I do without +effort are worthwhile; I am beautiful without the slightest +effort. + +JOHN: Yes, you're right. I could kiss you without any effort-- +and that would be worthwhile--perhaps. + +PRISCILLA: Kissing me would prove nothing. I kiss as casually +as I breathe. + +JOHN: And if you didn't breathe--or kiss--you would die. + +PRISCILLA: Any woman would. + +JOHN: Then you are like other women. How +unfortunate. + +PRISCILLA: I am like no woman you ever knew. + +JOHN: You arouse my curiosity. + +PRISCILLA: Curiosity killed a cat. + +JOHN: A cat may look at a--Queen. + +PRISCILLA: And a Queen keeps cats for her amusement. They purr +so delightfully when she pets them. + +JOHN: I never learned to purr; it must be amusing--for the +Queen. + +PRISCILLA: Let me teach you. I'm starting a new class tonight. + +JOHN: I'm afraid I couldn't afford to pay the tuition. + +PRISCILLA: For a few exceptionally meritorious pupils, various +scholarships and fellowships have been provided. + +JOHN: By whom? Old graduates? + +PRISCILLA: NO--the institution has been endowed by God-- + +JOHN: With exceptional beauty--I'm afraid I'm going to kiss you. +NOW. + +(They kiss.) + +(Ten minutes pass.) + +PRISCILLA: Stop smiling in that inane way. + +JOHN: I just happened to think of something awfully funny. You +know the reason why I came over here tonight? + +PRISCILLA: To see me. I wondered why you hadn't come months +ago. + +JOHN: No. It's really awfully funny--but I came here tonight +because Miles Standish made me promise this morning to ask you to +marry him. Miles is an awfully good egg, really +Priscilla. + +PRISCILLA: Speak for yourself, John. (They kiss.) + +PRISCILLA: Again. + +JOHN: Again--and again. Oh Lord, I'm gone. + +(An hour later JOHN leaves. As the door closes behind him +PRISCILLA sinks back into her chair before the fireplace; an hour +passes, and she does not move; her aunt returns from the +Bradfords' and after a few ineffectual attempts at conversation +goes to bed alone; the candles gutter, flicker, and die out; the +room is filled of sacred silence. Once more the clock chimes +forth the hour--the hour of fluted peace, of dead desire and epic +love. Oh not for aye, Endymion, mayst thou unfold the purple +panoply of priceless years. She sleeps--PRISCILLA sleeps--and +down the palimpsest of age-old passion the lyres of night breathe +forth their poignant praise. She sleeps--eternal Helen--in the +moonlight of a thousand years; immortal symbol of immortal aeons, +flower of the gods transplanted on a foreign shore, infinitely +rare, infinitely erotic.[1]) + +[1] For the further adventures of Priscilla, see F. Scott +Fitzgerald's stories in the "Girl With the Yellow Hair" series, +notably "This Side of Paradise," "The Offshore Pirate," "The Ice +Palace," "Head and Shoulders," "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," +"Benediction" and "The Beautiful and Damned." + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + +THE SPIRIT OF '75 + +LETTERS OF A MINUTE MAN + +In the Manner of Ring Lardner + +Friend Ethen-- + +Well Ethen you will be surprised O. K. to hear I & the wife took +a little trip down to Boston last wk. to a T. party & I guess +you are thinking we will be getting the swelt hed over being ast +to a T. party. In Boston. + +Well Ethen if you think that why you will be a 100 mi. offen the +track because Ethen I and Prudence sent the kind that gets a +swelt hed over being ast any wares like some of are naybers up +here when they are ast any wares so you see Ethen even if we had +been ast any wares we wouldnt of had no swelt hed. On acct of +being ast any wares. + +Well last Thurs. I and Prudence drove old Bessy down to Boston +Bessy is are horse see Ethen which is about 13 mi. from here +Boston I mean Ethen as the crow flys only no crow would ever fly +to Boston if he could help it because all the crows that ever +flew to Boston was shot by them lousie taverin keepers to make +meals out of Ethen I never tast it nothing so rotten in my life +as the meals they give us there & the priceis would knock your I +out. 3 shillings for a peace of stake about as big as your I, +and 4 pence for a cup of coffy. The streets sent the only thing +about Boston thats crook it. Them taverin keepers is crook it to +I mean see Ethen. + +After supper I & her was walking a round giving the town the +double O when we seen that Fanny Ewell Hall was all lit up like +Charley Davis on Sat. night & I says to Prudence lets go inside I +think its free and she says I bet you knowed it was free al right +befor you ast me & sure enough it was free only I hadnt knowed it +before only I guess that Prudence knows that when I say a thing +it is generally O. K. Well Fanny Ewell Hall was pack jam full of +people & we couldnt see nothing because there was a cockide stiff +standing right in front of us & jumping up & down & yelling No T. +No T. at the top of his lunges & Prudence says well why dont you +take coffy or milk & for Gods sake stay offen my foot & he turns +to her & says maddam do you want T. & slavery & she says no coffy +& a hot dog just kidding him see Ethen & he says maddam no T. +shall ever land & she says no but my husbend will in a bout 1 +min. & I was just going to plank him 1 when the door behint us +bust open & a lot of indyans come in yelling every body down to +Grifins worf there is going to be a T. party only Ethen they +wasnt indyans at all but jest wite men drest up to look like +indyans & I says to a fello those aint indyans & he say no how +did you guess it & I says because I have seen real indyans many a +time & he says to a nother fello say Bill here is a man who says +them sent real indyans & the other fello says gosh I dont believe +it & they laffed only the laff was on them Ethen because they +wasnt real indyans & that is only tipical of how you cant tell +these Boston swelt heds nothing & I guess if they had ever seen a +real indyan they would of known better than to laff. Well I and +Prudence follered the crowd down to Grifins worf & them indyans +which was only wite men drest up clumb onto a ship there & begun +throwing the cargo into Boston harber & I says to a fello what is +in them boxes & he says T. & I says well why are they throwing it +away & he says because they do not want to pay the tacks which is +about as sensable Ethen if I was to rite a lot of letters & then +as fast as I rote I would tare it up because I did not want to +pay for a stamp. Well I says somebody ought to catch he--ll for +this & he says are you a torie & I seen he was trying to kid me & +I says no I am a congregationalis & a loyal subject of king Geo. +Rex & he says o I thought you was a torie & a lot of fellos who +was with him give him the laff because he hadnt been abel to kid +me. Well after a whiles he says the indyans seem to be about +threw & I says yes only they sent indyans & the laff was on him +again & he seen it wasnt no use to try & kid me & Prudence says +come on lets beat it & on the way home I says I bet them Boston +birds will feel small when they find out that those wasnt indyans +at all & she act it like she was mad about something & says well +they cant blame you for not trying to tell them & its a wonder +you didnt hire Fanny Ewell Hall while you was about it & I says o +is it & I might know youd get sore because I was the 1st to find +out about the indyans being wite men in disgised & she says yes I +suppose if somebody was to paint stripes on a cow you would make +a speech about it & say that you had discovered that it wasnt no +tiger & I wish I had been 1 of them indyans tonight because I +would of loved to of beened you with a Tommy Hawk & I says o you +would would you & she seen it wasnt no use to argue with me & +anyway Ethen nobody would be fool enough to paint stripes on a +cow unless maybe they was born in Boston. Well Ethen thats the +way it goes & when you do put one over on the wife they want to +hit you with a Tommy Hawk with best rgds. Ed. + +Friend Ethen-- + +No matter what a married man does in this world he gets in wrong +& I suppose if I was to die tonight Prudence would bawl me out +for not having let her know I was going to do it & just because I +joined the minit men the other eve. she has been acting like as +if I had joined the Baptis Church & I bet you are saying what in +the h--ll is a minit man. Well Ethen I will tell you. The other +night I says to Prudence I think I will drive over to Lexington +to get Bessy shodd. Bessy is are horse see Ethen. Well she says +you will do nothing of the kind because all you want to do in +Lexington is get a snoot ful & if you think I am going to wate up +all night while you get boiled well you have got another guess +coming. She says the last time you had Bessy shodd the naybers +are talking about it yet & I says do you mean because I & Charley +Davis was singing & having a little fun & she says no because +nobody wouldnt call that singing & do you call it a little fun +when you brought Bessy up stares with you to show me how well she +had been shodd at 3 A. M. in the morning answer me that which is +only her way of exagerating things Ethen because we didnt bring +Bessy only as far as the stares & I only did it because Charley +had been drinking a little to much & I didnt want to iritate him +because the way to handel drunks is to not iritate them they are +only worse only you cant tell a woman that & they think the way +to handel drunks is to look him in the eye & say arent you +ashamed of yourselves which only iritates him the moar. Well I +says I am not going to half no horse of mine going a round 1/2 +shodd al the time & Prudence says well I am not going to half no +husband of mine going a round 1/2 shot al the time & I says I +will not go near Charley Davis this time because I have lernt my +lesson & she says al right if you will promise to not go near +Charley Davis you can go & when I got to Lexington I thought I +would stop in the taverin a min. just to say hulloh to the boys +because if a fello doesnt stop in the taverin to say hulloh to +the boys who are just as good as he is they are lible to say he +has a swelt hed & is to proud to stop in the taverin to say +hulloh to the boys. Who are just as good as he is. Well I didnt +have any i dear that Charley Davis would be there because I had +told Prudence I wasnt going to go near him & just because I said +that I cant be expect it to sneek into toun like as if I was a +convick can I Ethen. Well the taverin was crowd it & they had +all got a good start & the long & the short of it was that the +1st person I seen was Charley Davis & he says hulloh there pink +whiskers you are just in time to join the minit men which is only +a nicked name he has for me because my whiskers are red brown. No +I says I cannot join anything tonight fellos because I must go +right back home & he says if you dont join the minit men now some +day you wont have no home to go home to & I says what do you mean +I wont have no home to go home to & he says because the Brittish +are going to burn down all the homes of we farmers because we +will not sell them any food but first you had better have a +drink. Well Ethen a fello dont like to be a sissey about taking +1 drink does he & then I says now fellos I must go home & then a +couple of more fellos come in & they said Ed you wont go home +till we have brought you a drink & elect it you to the minit men +will you & I said no but I must go home right after that. Well +then we got to singing & we was going pretty good & after a while +I said now fellos I must go home & Charley Davis says to me Ed +before you go I want to have you shake hands with my friend Tom +Duffy who is here from Boston & he will tell you all about the +minit men & you can join tonight but look out or he will drink +you under the tabel because he is the worst fish in Boston & I +says sure only I have got to be going home soon because you +remember what hapend last time & I would like to see any body +from Boston drink me under the tabel & bet. you & I Ethen if that +fellow is a fish then my grandmother is the prince of whales & +let me tell you what hapend. After we had drank about 4 or 5 I +seen he was getting sort of wite & I says well Boston lets settle +down now to some good steady drinking & he says listen & I says +what & he says listen & I says what & he says do you know my wife +& I says no & he says listen & I says what & he says shes the +best little woman in the world & I says sure & he says what did +you say & I says when & he says you have insult it my wife the +best little woman in the world & he begun to cry & we had only +had a bout 1 qt & wouldnt that knock you for a cockide gool +Ethen, only I guess you arent surprised knowing how much I can +holt without feeling any affects. Well I was feeling pretty good +on acct. of drinking the pride of Boston under the tabel & not +feeling any affects only I was feeling good like a fello naturely +feels & the fellos kind of made a lot of fuss on acct. me +drinking him under the tabel so I couldnt very well of gone home +then & after a while Charley Davis made a speech & well comed me +into the minit men & so I am a minit man Ethen but I cant exackly +explain it to you until I see Charley again because he didnt make +it very clear that night. Well after a while we woke the Boston +fish up & we all went home & I was feeling pretty good on acct. +it being such a nice night & all the stars being out & etc. & +when I got home I said Prudence guess what hapend & she says I +can guess & I says Prudence I have been elect it a minit man & +she says well go on up stares & sleep it off & I says sleep what +off & she says stop talking so loud do you want the naybers to +wake up & I says whos talking loud & she says o go to bed & I +says I am talking in conversational tones & she says well you +must be conversing with somebody in Boston & I says o you mean +that little blond on Beecon St. & Ethen she went a 1,000,000 mi. +up in the air & I seen it wasnt no use to try & tell her that the +reason I was feeling good was on acct. having drank a Boston +swelt hed to sleep without feeling any affects & I bet the next +time I get a chanct I am going to get snooted right because a +fello gets blamed just as much if he doesnt feel the affects as +if he was brought home in a stuper & I was just kidding her about +that blond on Beecon St. Some women dont know when they are well +off Ethen & I bet that guy from Bostons Tom Duffy I mean wife +wishes she was in Prudences shoes instead of her having married a +man what cant holt no more than a qt. without being brought home +in a stuper. Best rgds. +Ed. + +Friend Ethen-- + +Well Ethen this is a funny world & when I joined the minit men +last mo. how was I to know that they called them minit men +because they was lible to get shot any minit. & here I am +riteing to you in a tent outside Boston & any minit a canon ball +is lible to knock me for a continental loop & my house has been +burnt & Prudence is up in Conk Cord with her sister the one who +married that short skate dum bell Collins who has owed me 2 lbs. +for a yr. & 1/2 well Ethen it never ranes but it pores & you can +be glad you are liveing in a nice quiet place like Philly. + +Well the other night I and Prudence was sound asleep when I heard +some body banging at the frt. door & I stuck my head out the up +stares window & I says who are you & he says I am Paul Revear & I +says well this is a h--ll of a time to be wakeing a peaceiful man +out of their bed what do you want & he says the Brittish are +comeing & I says o are they well this is the 19 of April not the +1st & I was going down stares to plank him 1 but he had rode away +tow wards Lexington before I had a chanct & as it turned out +after words the joke was on me O. K. Well who is it says Prudence +Charley Davis again because you might as well come back to bed if +it is & I says no it was some Boston smart alick trying to be +funny & I guess they are soar down there on acct. what hapened to +their prize fish up here last mo. & are trying to get even do you +know a Paul Revear & she says yes there was a boy at school named +Paul Revear who was crazy about me was he dark well Ethen if all +the fellos she says has been crazy about her was layed end to end +they would circum navygate the globe twicet & I says no he was +yello & that had her stopt so we went back to sleep only I +couldn't help laffing over the way I had slipt it across. About +Revear being yello. Well along a bout A. M. there was a lot of +gun firing tow wards Lexington & Prudence grabed me & says whets +the shooting for & I says probably that fello Revear who was so +crazy a bout you has got funny oncet to oft ten & it will teach +them Boston doodes a lesson. Well Ethen I was wrong for oncet & +the firing kept getting worse & I hitcht up old Bessy & drove +over to Lexington Bessy is are horse & Ethen there was the h--ll +to pay there because the g-- d d--m Brittish redcotes had marcht +nup from Boston & had fired on the Lexington fellos & Charley +Davis had been shot dead & a lot of the other fellos was wooned +it & they said you had better get your wife to the h--ll out of +your house because the g--d d-- m Brittish redcotes are coming +back & they will burn everything along the rode the ---- I guess +you know what word goes there Ethen & I was so d--m mad at those +g--d d--m Brittish redcotes on acct. shooting Charley Davis dead +that I said give me a gun & show me the ---- who done it & they +says no you had better get your wife to a safe place to go to & +then you can come back because the ---- will be along this way +again the ----. Well I drove as fast as I could back to the farm +& somebody had already told Prudence what had hapend & as soon as +I drove into the yd. she come out with my muskit & hand it it to +me & says dont you worry about me but you kill every d--m redcote +you can see & I says the ----s has killed Charley Davis & she +says I know it & here is all the bullits I could find. Well when +I got back to Lexington the redcotes was just coming along & +Ethen I guess they wont forget that march back to Boston for a +little whiles & I guess I wont either because the ----s burnt +down my house & barn & Prudence is gone to stay with her sister +in Conk Cord & here I am camping in a tent with a lot of other +minit men on the out skirts of Boston & there is a roomer a round +camp that to morrow we are going to move over to Bunker Hill +which is a good name for a Boston Hill Ill say & Ethen if you was +to of told me a mo. ago that I would be fighting to get Boston +away from the Brittish I would of planked you 1 because they +could of had Boston for all I cared. Well Ethen I must go out and +drill some more now & probably we will half to listen to some +Boston bird makeing a speech they are great fellos for speeches +about down with Brittish tirrany & give me liberty or give me +death but if you was to ast me Ethen I would say give me back +that house & barn what those lousie redcotes burnt & when this +excitement is all over what I want to know is Ethen where do I +get off at. Yrs + Ed. + + + +Chapter Six + +THE WHISKY REBELLION. + +In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. Burgess + +"Just the DAY for a Whisky Rebellion," said Aunt Polly and off +she ran, lipperty-lipperty-lip, to get a few shooting rifles. + +"Oh goody goody," cried little Emily. "Now we can all shoot at +those horrid Revenue Officers," for the collectors of internal +revenue were far from popular with these kindly Pennsylvania folk +and Aunt Polly Pinkwood had often promised the children that if +they were good some day they would be allowed to take a shot at a +Revenue Officer. + +Soon she returned, bearing in her arms a number of bright shiny +new guns. The children crowded around in glee and soon all were +supplied with weapons except little Frank who of course was too +young to use a gun and was given a two-gallon jug of nice, old +whisky to carry. Jed hitched up old Taylor, the faithful farm +horse, and as quick as you could say Jack Robinson the little +ones had piled into the old carryall. Round Mr. Sun was just +peeping over the Purple Hills when the merry little party started +on its way, singing and laughing at the prospect of the day's +sport. + +"I bet I kill five Revenue Officers," said little Edgar. + +"Ha Ha Ha--you boaster, you," laughed Aunt Polly. "You will be +lucky if you kill two, for I fear they will be hard to find +today." + +"Oh do you think so, Aunt Polly?" said little Elinor and she +began to cry, for Elinor dearly loved to shoot. + +"Hush dear," said Miss Pinkwood with a kindly pat, for she loved +her little charges and it hurt her to see them unhappy. "I was +only joking. And now children I will tell you a story." + +"Oh goody goody," cried they all. "Tell us a true story." + +"All right," said Aunt Polly. "I shall tell you a true story," +and she began. + +"Once there was a brave handsome man--" + +"Mr. Welsbach," cried the children with one voice, for it was +well known in the neighborhood that Aunt Polly had long been +sweet on Julius Welsbach, the popular superintendent of the +Sabbath School and the best whisky maker for miles around. + +"Hush children," said Aunt Polly blushing in vexation. "Of +course not. And if you interrupt me I shall not tell my story at +all." But she was not really angry. + +"And one day this brave handsome man was out making whisky and he +had just sampled some when he looked up and what do you suppose +he saw?" + +"Snakes," cried little Elmer whose father had often had delirium +tremens, greatly to the delight of his children. + +"No, Elmer," said Miss Pinkwood, "not snakes." + +"Pink lizards," cried little Esther, Elmer's sister. + +"No," said Aunt Polly, with a hearty laugh, "he saw a--stranger. +And what do you suppose the stranger had?" + +"A snoot full," chorused the Schultz twins. "He was pie-eyed." + +"No," replied Miss Pinkwood laughing merrily. "It was before +noon. Guess again children. What did the stranger have?" + +"Blind staggers," suggested little Faith whose mother had +recently been adjudged insane. + +"Come children," replied Aunt Polly. "You are not very wide +awake this morning. The stranger had a gun. And when the brave +handsome man offered the stranger a drink what do you suppose the +stranger said?" + +"I know," cried little Prudence eagerly. "He said, 'Why yes I +don't care if I do.' That's what they all say." + +"No, Prudence," replied Miss Pinkwood. "The stranger refused a +drink." + +"Oh come now, Aunt Polly," chorused the boys and girls. "You said +you were going to tell us a true story." And their little faces +fell. + +"Children," said Miss Polly, "the stranger refused the drink +because he was a Revenue Officer. And he pointed his gun at the +brave handsome man and said he would have to go to jail because +he had not paid the tax on his whisky. And the brave handsome man +would have had to have gone to jail, too; but fortunately his +brother came up just at the right time and--" + +"Shot the Revenuer dead," cried the children in glee. + +"Yes children," said Miss Polly. "He shot the Revenue Officer +dead." + +"Oh goody goody," cried all. "Now tell us another story. Tell us +about the time your father killed a Revenue Officer with an ax." + +"Oh you don't want to hear that again, do you children?" said +Aunt Polly. + +"Oh yes--yes--please," they cried, and Aunt Polly was just going +to begin when Jed the driver stopped his horses and said: + +"This hilltop is as good a place to shoot from as I know of, Miss +Pinkwood. You can see both roads, and nobody can see you." + +"Thank you, Jed," said Aunt Polly giving him a kindly smile, and +without more ado the children clambered out of the carryall and +filled their guns with powder and bullets. + +"I get first shot," proudly announced Robert, the oldest boy, and +somewhat of a bully. + +"Robert!" said Aunt Polly severely, and she looked almost ready +to cry, for Aunt Polly had tried hard to teach the boys to be +true knights of chivalry and it hurt her to have Robert wish to +shoot a Revenue Officer before the girls had had a chance. Robert +had not meant to hurt Aunt Polly's feelings but had only been +thoughtless, and soon all was sunshine again as little Ellen the +youngest made ready to fire the first shot. + +The children waited patiently and soon they were rewarded by the +sight of a Revenue Officer riding on horseback in the distant +valley, as pretty a target as one could wish. + +"Now do be careful, dear," whispered Miss Pinkwood, "for if you +miss, he may take alarm and be off." But little Ellen did not +miss. "Bang" went her gun and the little Merry Breezes echoed +back and forth, "She got him. She got him", and old Mother West +Wind smiled down at the happy sport. Sure enough, when old Mr. +Smoke had cleared away there was a nice dead Revenue Officer +lying in the road. "Well done, Ellen," said Miss Pinkwood, +patting her little charge affectionately which caused the happy +girl to coo with childish delight. + +Mary had next shot and soon all were popping away in great glee. +All the merry wood folk gathered near to watch the children at +their sport. There was Johnny Chuck and Reddy Fox and Jimmy Skunk +and Bobby Coon and oh everybody. + +Soon round Mr. Sun was high in the Blue Sky and the children +began to tire somewhat of their sport. "I'm as hungry as a +bear," said little Dick. "I'm as hungry as two bears," said +Emily. "Ha Ha Ha," laughed Miss Pinkwood, "I know what will fix +that," and soon she had spread out a delicious repast. "Now +children," said Miss Pinkwood when all had washed their faces and +hands, "while you were busy washing I prepared a surprise for +you," and from a large jug, before their delighted gaze, she +poured out-- what do you think? "Bronxes," cried little Harriet. +"Oh goody goody." And sure enough Aunt Polly had prepared a jug +of delicious Bronx cocktails which all pronounced excellent. + +And after that there were sandwiches and olives and pie and good +three year old whisky, too. + +"That's awfully smooth rye, Aunt Polly," said little Prudence +smacking her two red lips. "I think I'll have another shot." + +"No dear," said Miss Pinkwood, pleased by the compliment, but +firm withal. "Not now. Perhaps on the way home, if there is any +left," for Aunt Polly knew that too much alcohol in the middle of +the day is bad for growing children, and she had seen many a +promising child spoiled by over-indulgent parents. + +After lunch those children who could stand helped Aunt Polly to +clear away the dishes and then all went sound asleep, as is the +custom in Pennsylvania. + +When they awoke round Mr. Sun was just sinking behind the Purple +Hills and so, after taking a few more scattered shots at Revenue +Officers, they piled once more into the carryall and drove back +to town. And as they passed Mrs. Oliphant's house (Aunt Polly's +sister) Aunt Flo Oliphant came out on the porch and waved her +handkerchief at the merry party. + +"Let's give her a cheer," said Fred. + +"Agreed," cried they all, and so twelve little throats united in +three lusty "huzzahs" which made Auntie Flo very happy you may be +sure. + +And as they drove up before the Pinkwoods' modest home twelve +tired but happy children with one accord voted the Whisky +Rebellion capital fun and Aunt Polly a brick. + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + +HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT + +In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright + +On a brisk winter evening in the winter of 1864 the palatial +Fifth Avenue "palace" of Cornelius van der Griff was brilliantly +lighted with many brilliant lights. Outside the imposing front +entrance a small group of pedestrians had gathered to gape +enviously at the invited guests of the "four hundred" who were +beginning to arrive in elegant equipages, expensive ball-dresses +and fashionable "swallowtails". + +"Hully gee!" exclaimed little Frank, a crippled newsboy who was +the only support of an aged mother, as a particularly sumptuous +carriage drove up and a stylishly dressed lady of fifty-five or +sixty stepped out accompanied by a haughty society girl and an +elderly gentleman in clerical dress. It was Mrs. Rhinelander, a +social leader, and her daughter Geraldine, together with the Rev. +Dr. Gedney, pastor of an exclusive Fifth Avenue church. + +"What common looking people," said Mrs. Rhinelander, surveying +the crowd aristocratically with her lorgnette. + +"Yes, aren't they?" replied the clergyman with a condescending +glance which ill befit his clerical garb. + +"I'm glad you don't have people like that dans votre eglise, Dr. +Gedney," said young Geraldine, who thought it was "smart" to +display her proficiency in the stylish French tongue. At this +moment the door of the van der Griff residence was opened for +them by an imposing footman in scarlet livery and they passed +into the abode of the "elect". + +"Hully gee!" repeated little Frank. + +"What's going on to-night?" asked a newcomer. + +"Gee--don't youse know?" answered the newsboy. "Dis is de van +der Griffs' and tonight dey are giving a swell dinner for General +Grant. Dat lady wot just went in was old Mrs. Rhinelander. I +seen her pitcher in de last Harper's Weekly and dere was a story +in de paper dis morning dat her daughter Geraldine was going to +marry de General." + +"That isn't so," broke in another. "It was just a rumor." + +"Well, anyway," said Frank, "I wisht de General would hurry up +and come-- it's getting cold enough to freeze the tail off a +brass monkey." The onlookers laughed merrily at his humorous +reference to the frigid temperature, although many cast +sympathetic looks at his thin threadbare garments and registered +a kindly thought for this brave boy who so philosophically +accepted the buffets of fate. + +"I bet this is him now," cried Frank, and all waited expectantly +as a vehicle drove up. The cabman jumped off his box and held +the carriage door open. + +"Here you are, Miss Flowers," he said, touching his hat +respectfully. + +A silver peal of rippling laughter sounded from the interior of +the carriage. + +"Why Jerry," came in velvet tones addressed to the coachman, "You +mustn't be so formal just because I have come to New York to +live. Call me 'Miss Ella,' of course, just like you did when we +lived out in Kansas," and with these words Miss Ella Flowers, for +it was she, stepped out of the carriage. + +A hush fell on the crowd as they caught sight of her face--a hush +of silent tribute to the clear sweet womanhood of that pure +countenance. A young man on the edge of the crowd who was on the +verge of becoming a drunkard burst into tears and walked rapidly +away to join the nearest church. A pr-st---te who had been plying +her nefarious trade on the avenue, sank to her knees to pray for +strength to go back to her aged parents on the farm. Another +young man, catching sight of Ella's pure face, vowed to write +home to his old mother and send her the money he had been +expending in the city on drinks and dissipation. + +And well might these city people be affected by the glimpse of +the sweet noble virtue which shone forth so radiantly in this +Kansas girl's countenance. Although born in Jersey City, Ella had +moved with her parents to the west at an early age and she had +grown up in the open country where a man's a man and women lead +clean sweet womanly lives. Out in the pure air of God's green +places and amid kindly, simple, big hearted folks, little Ella +had blossomed and thrived, the pride of the whole country, and as +she had grown to womanhood there was many a masculine heart beat +a little faster for her presence and many a manly blush of +admiration came into the features of her admirers as she whirled +gracefully with them in the innocent pleasure of a simple country +dance. But on her eighteenth birthday, her parents had passed on +to the Great Beyond and the heartbroken Ella had come East to +live with Mrs. Montgomery, her aunt in Jersey City. This lady, +being socially prominent in New York's "four hundred", was of +course quite ambitious that her pretty little niece from the West +should also enter society. For the last three months, therefore, +Ella had been feted at all the better class homes in New York and +Jersey City, and as Mrs. van der Griff, the Fifth Avenue social +leader, was in the same set as Ella's aunt, it was only natural +that when making out her list of guests for the dinner in honor +of General Grant she should include the beautiful niece of her +friend. + +As Ella stepped from the carriage, her gaze fell upon little +Frank, the crippled newsboy, and her eyes quickly filled with +tears, for social success had not yet caused her to forget that +"blessed are the weak". Taking out her purse, she gave Frank a +silver dollar and a warm look of sympathy as she passed into the +house. + +"Gee, there went an angel," whispered the little cripple, and +many who heard him silently echoed that thought in their hearts. +Nor were they far from wrong. + +But even an angel is not free from temptation, and by letting +Ella go into society her aunt was exposing the girl to the +whisperings of Satan-- whisperings of things material rather than +things spiritual. Many a girl just as pure as Ella has found her +standards gradually lowered and her moral character slowly +weakened by the contact with the so-called "refined" and +"cultured" infidels one meets in fashionable society. Many a +father and mother whose ambition has caused them to have their +daughter go out in society have bitterly repented of that step as +they watched the poor girl gradually succumbing to the temptation +of the world. Let her who thinks it is "smart" to be in society +consider that our brothels with their red plush curtains, their +hardwood floors and their luxurious appointments, are filled +largely with the worn out belles and debutantes of fashionable +society. + +The next minute a bugle call sounded down the street and up drove +a team of prancing grays. Two soldiers sprang down from the +coachman's box and stood at rigid attention while the door of the +carriage opened and out stepped General Ulysses S. Grant. + +A murmur of admiration swept over the crowd at the sight of his +manly inspiring features, in which the clean cut virility of a +life free from dissipation was accentuated by the neatly trimmed +black beard. His erect military bearing--his neat, well fitting +uniform--but above all his frank open face proclaimed him a man's +man--a man among men. A cheer burst from the lips of the +onlookers and the brave but modest general lowered his eyes and +blushed as he acknowledged their greeting. + +"Men and women," he said, in a voice which although low, one +could see was accustomed to being obeyed, "I thank you for your +cheers. It makes my heart rejoice to hear them, for I know you +are not cheering me personally but only as one of the many men +who are fighting for the cause of liberty and freedom, and +for----" the general's voice broke a little, but he mastered his +emotion and went on--"for the flag we all love." + +At this he pulled from his pocket an American flag and held it up +so that all could see. Cheer after cheer rent the air, and tears +came to the general's eyes at this mark of devotion to the common +cause. + +"Wipe the d--d rebels off the face of the earth, G-d d--'em," +shouted a too enthusiastic member of the crowd who, I fear, was a +little the worse for drink. In an instant General Grant had +stepped up to him and fixed upon him those fearless blue eyes. + +"My man," said the general, "It hurts me to hear you give vent to +those oaths, especially in the presence of ladies. Soldiers do +not curse, and I think you would do well to follow their +example." + +The other lowered his head shamefacedly. "General," he said, +"You're right and I apologize." + +A smile lit up the general's handsome features and he extended +his hand to the other. + +"Shake on it," he said simply, and as the crowd roared its +approval of this speech the two men "shook". + +Meanwhile within the van der Griff house all were agog with +excitement in expectation of the arrival of the distinguished +guest. Expensively dressed ladies fluttered here and there amid +the elegant appointments; servants in stylish livery passed to +and fro with trays of wine and other spirituous liquors. + +At the sound of the cheering outside, the haughty Mrs. +Rhinelander patted her daughter Geraldine nervously, and between +mother and daughter passed a glance of understanding, for both +felt that to-night, if ever, was Geraldine's opportunity to win +the handsome and popular general. + +The doorbell rang, and a hush fell over the chattering +assemblage; then came the proud announcement from the +doorman--"General Ulysses S. Grant"--and all the society belles +crowded forward around the guest of honor. + +It had been rumored that the general, being a soldier, was +ignorant of social etiquette, but such proved to be far from the +case. Indeed, he handled himself with such ease of manner that he +captivated all, and for each and every young miss he had an apt +phrase or a pretty compliment, greatly to their +delight. + +"Pleased to know you"--"Glad to shake the hand of such a pretty +girl"--"What a nice little hand--I wish I might hold it all +evening"-- with these and kindred pleasantries the general won +the way into the graces of Mrs. van der Griff's fair guests, and +many a female heart fluttered in her bosom as she gazed into the +clear blue eyes of the soldier, and listened to his well chosen +tactful words. + +"And how is the dear General this evening?"--this in the affected +tone of old Mrs. Rhinelander, as she forced her way through the +crowd. + +"Finer than silk," replied he, and he added, solicitously, "I +hope you have recovered from your lumbago, Mrs. Rhinelander." + +"Oh quite," answered she, "and here is Geraldine, General," and +the ambitious mother pushed her daughter forward. + +"Comment vous portez vous, mon General," said Geraldine in +French, "I hope we can have a nice tete-a-tete to-night," and she +fawned upon her prey in a manner that would have sickened a less +artificial gathering. + +Were there not some amid all that fashionable throng in whom +ideals of purity and true womanhood lived--some who cared enough +for the sacredness of real love to cry upon this hollow mockery +that was being used to ensnare the simple, honest soldier? There +was only one, and she was at that moment entering the drawing +room for the purpose of being presented to the general. Need I +name her? + +Ella, for it was she, had been upstairs busying herself with her +toilet when General Grant had arrived and she now hurried forward +to pay her homage to the great soldier. And then, as she caught +sight of his face, she stopped suddenly and a deep crimson blush +spread over her features. She looked again, and then drew back +behind a nearby portiere, her heart beating wildly. + +Well did Ella remember where she had seen that countenance +before, and as she stood there trembling the whole scene of her +folly came back to her. It had happened in Kansas, just before +her parents died, on one sunny May morning. She had gone for a +walk; her footsteps had led her to the banks of a secluded lake +where she often went when she wished to be alone. Many an +afternoon had Ella dreamed idly away on this shore, but that day, +for some reason, she had felt unusually full of life and not at +all like dreaming. Obeying a thoughtless but innocent impulse, +with no intention of evil, she had taken off her clothes and +plunged thus n-k-d into the cool waters of the lake. After she +had swum around a little she began to realize the extent of her +folly and was hurriedly swimming towards the shore when a +terrific cramp had seized her lower limbs, rendering them +powerless. Her first impulse, to scream for help, was quickly +checked with a deep blush, as she realized the consequences if a +man should hear her call, for nearby was an encampment of Union +soldiers, none of whom she knew. The perplexed and helpless girl +was in sore straits and was slowly sinking for the third time, +when a bearded stranger in soldier's uniform appeared on the bank +and dove into the water. To her horror he swam rapidly towards +her--but her shame was soon changed to joy when she realized that +he was purposely keeping his eyes tight shut. With a few swift +powerful strokes he reached her side, and, blushing deeply, took +off his blue coat, fastened it around her, opened his eyes, and +swam with her to the shore. Carrying her to where she had left +her clothes he stayed only long enough to assure himself that she +had completely recovered the use of her limbs, and evidently to +spare her further embarrassment, had vanished as quickly and as +mysteriously as he had appeared. + +Many a night after that had Ella lain awake thinking of the +splendid features and, the even more splendid conduct of this +unknown knight who wore the uniform of the Union army. "How I +love him," she would whisper to herself; "but how he must despise +me!" she would cry, and her pillow was often wet with tears of +shame and mortification at her folly. + +It was shortly after this episode that her parents had taken sick +and passed away. Ella had come East and had given up hope of +ever seeing her rescuer again. You may imagine her feelings then +when, on entering the drawing room at the van der Griffs', she +discovered that the stranger who had so gallantly and tactfully +rescued her from a watery grave was none other than General +Ulysses S. Grant. + +The poor girl was torn by a tumult of contrary emotions. Suppose +he should remember her face. She blushed at the thought. And +besides what chance had she to win such a great man's heart in +competition with these society girls like Geraldine Rhinelander +who had been "abroad" and spoke French. + +At that moment one of the liveried servants approached the +general with a trayful of filled wine glasses. So engrossed was +the soldier hero in talking to Geraldine--or, rather, in +listening to her alluring chatter-- that he did not at first +notice what was being offered him. + +"Will you have a drink of champagne wine, General?" said Mrs. van +der Griff who stood near. + +The general raised his head and frowned as if he did not +understand. + +"Come, mon General," cried Geraldine gayly, "We shall drink a +votre succes dans la guerre," and the flighty girl raised a glass +of wine on high. Several of the guests crowded around and all +were about to drink to the general's health. + +"Stop," cried General Grant suddenly realizing what was being +done, and something in the tone of his voice made everyone +pause. + +"Madam," said he, turning to Mrs. van der Griff, "Am I to +understand that there is liquor in those glasses?" + +"Why yes, General," said the hostess smiling uneasily. "It is +just a little champagne wine." + +"Madam," said the general, "It may be 'just champagne wine' to +you, but 'just champagne wine' has ruined many a poor fellow and +to me all alcoholic beverages are an abomination. I cannot +consent, madam, to remain under your roof if they are to be +served. I have never taken a drop--I have tried to stamp it out +of the army, and I owe it to my soldiers to decline to be a guest +at a house where wine and liquor are served." + +An excited buzz of comment arose as the general delivered this +ultimatum. A few there were who secretly approved his sentiments, +but they were far too few in numbers and constant indulgence in +alcohol had weakened their wills so that they dared not stand +forth. An angry flush appeared on the face of the hostess, for in +society, "good form" is more important than courage and ideals, +and by his frank statement General Grant had violently violated +the canons of correct social etiquette. + +"Very well, Mr. Grant," she said, stressing the "Mr."--"if that's +the way you feel about it----" + +"Stop," cried an unexpected voice, and to the amazement of all +Ella Flowers stepped forward, her teeth clenched, her eyes +blazing. + +"Stop," she repeated, "He is right--the liquor evil is one of the +worst curses of modern civilization, and if General Grant leaves, +so do I." + +Mrs. van der Griff hesitated for an instant, and then suddenly +forced a smile. + +"Why Ella dear, of course General Grant is right," said she, for +it was well known in financial circles that her husband, Mr. van +der Griff, had recently borrowed heavily from Ella's uncle. +"There will not be a drop of wine served to-night, and now +General, shall we go in to dinner? Will you be so kind as to +lead the way with Miss Rhinelander?" The hostess had recovered +her composure, and smiling sweetly at the guest of honor, gave +orders to the servants to remove the wine glasses. + +But General Grant did not hear her; he was looking at Ella +Flowers. And as he gazed at the sweet beauty of her countenance +he seemed to feel rising within him something which he had never +felt before-- something which made everything else seem petty and +trivial. And as he looked into her eyes and she looked into his, +he read her answer-- the only answer true womanhood can make to +clean, worthy manhood. + +"Shall we go a la salle-a-manger?" sounded a voice in his ears, +and Geraldine's sinuous arm was thrust through his. + +General Grant took the proffered talon and gently removed it from +him. + +"Miss Rhinelander," he said firmly, "I am taking this young lady +as my partner," and suiting the action to the word, he graciously +extended his arm to Ella who took it with a pretty blush. + +It was General Grant's turn to blush when the other guests, with +a few exceptions, applauded his choice loudly, and made way +enthusiastically as the handsome couple advanced to the +brilliantly lighted dining room. + +But although the hostess had provided the most costly of viands, +I am afraid that the brave general did not fully appreciate them, +for in his soul was the joy of a strong man who has found his +mate and in his heart was the singing of the eternal song, "I +love her-- I love her--I love her!" + +It was only too apparent to the other guests what had happened +and to their credit be it said that they heartily approved his +choice, for Mrs. Rhinelander and her scheming daughter Geraldine +had made countless enemies with their haughty manners, whereas +the sweet simplicity of Ella Flowers had won her numerous +friends. And all laughed merrily when General Grant, in his after +dinner speech, said "flowers" instead of "flour" when speaking of +provisioning the army--a slip which caused both the general and +Miss Flowers to blush furiously, greatly to the delight of the +good-natured guests. "All the world loves a lover"--truer words +were never penned. + +After dinner, while the other men, according to the usages of +best society, were filling the air of the dining room with the +fumes of nicotine, the general, who did not use tobacco, excused +himself--amid many sly winks from the other men-- and wandered +out into the conservatory. + +There he found Ella. + +"General," she began. + +"Miss Flowers," said the strong man simply, "Call me Ulysses." + +And there let us leave them. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + +CUSTER'S LAST STAND + +In the Manner of Edith Wharton + +It was already late afternoon and the gas street lamps of the +Boul' Mich' were being lighted for Paris, or at least for Paris +in summer, by a somewhat frigid looking allumeur, when Philip +Custer came to the end of his letter. He hesitated for an +instant, wrote "Your----," then crossed that out and substituted +"Sincerely." No, decidedly the first ending, with its, as is, +or, rather, as ordinarily is, the case in hymeneal epistles, +somewhat possessive sense, would no longer suffice. "Yours +truly"-- perhaps; "sincerely"--better; but certainly not "Your +husband." He was done, thank God, with presences. + +Philip sipped his absinthe and gazed for an instant through the +Cafe window; a solitary fiacre rattled by; he picked up the +result of his afternoon's labor, wearily. + +"Dear Mary," he read, "When I told you that my employers were +sending me to Paris, I lied to you. It was, perhaps, the first +direct lie that I ever told you; it was, I know now, the last. +But a falsehood by word of mouth mattered really very little in +comparison with the enormous lie that my life with you had +become." + +Philip paused and smiled, somewhat bitterly, at that point in the +letter. Mary, with her American woman's intuition, would +undoubtedly surmise that he had run off with Mrs. Everett; there +was a certain ironical humor in the fact that Mary's mistaken +guess would be sadly indicative of her whole failure to +understand what her husband was, to use a slang expression, +"driving at." + +"I hope that you will believe me when I say that I came to Paris +to paint. In the past four years the desire to do that has grown +steadily until it has mastered me. You do not understand. I +found no one in America who did. I think my mother might have, +had she lived; certainly it is utterly incomprehensible to +father." + +Philip stopped. Ay, there was the rub--General Custer, and all +that he stood for. Philip glimpsed momentarily those early +boyhood days with his father, spent mainly in army posts; the +boy's cavalry uniform, in which he had ridden old Bess about the +camp, waving his miniature sabre; the day he had been thrown to +the ground by a strange horse which he had disobediently mounted, +just as his father arrived on the scene. Philip had never +forgotten his father's words that day. "Don't crawl, son,--don't +whine. It was your fault this time and you deserved what you +got. Lots of times it won't be your fault, but you'll have to +take your licking anyway. But remember this, son--take your +medicine like a man--always." + +Philip groaned; he knew what the general would say when the news +of his son's desertion of his wife and four year old boy reached +him. He knew that he never could explain to his father the +absolute torture of the last four years of enervating domesticity +and business mediocrity-- the torture of the Beauty within him +crying for expression, half satisfied by the stolen evenings at +the art school but constantly growing stronger in its +all-consuming appeal. No, life to his father was a simple +problem in army ethics--a problem in which duty was "a", one of +the known factors; "x," the unknown, was either "bravery" or +"cowardice" when brought in contact with "a". Having solved this +problem, his father had closed the book; of the higher +mathematics, and especially of those complex problems to which no +living man knew the final answer, he had no conception. And +yet---- + +Philip resumed his reading to avoid the old endless maze of +subtleties. + +"It is not that I did not--or do not--love you. It is, rather, +that something within me is crying out-- something which is +stronger than I, and which I cannot resist. I have waited two +years to be sure. Yesterday, as soon as I reached here, I took +my work to the man who is considered the finest art critic in +Paris. He told me that there was a quality to my painting which +he had seen in that of no living artist; he told me that in five +years of hard work I should be able to produce work which +Botticelli would be proud to have done. Do you understand that, +Mary--Botticelli! + +"But no, forgive me. My paean of joy comes strangely in a letter +which should be of abject humility for what must seem to you, to +father, and to all, a cowardly, selfish act of desertion-- a +whining failure to face life. Oh dear, dear Mary if you could +but understand what a hell I have been through--" + +Philip took his pen and crossed out the last line so that no one +could read what had been there. + +"Materially, of course, you and little George will be better off; +the foolish pride with which I refused to let your parents help +us now no longer stands in their way. You should have no +difficulty about a divorce. + +"You can dispose of my things as you see fit; there is nothing I +care about keeping which I did not bring. + +"Again, Mary, I cannot ask you to forgive, or even to understand, +but I do hope that you will believe me when I say that this act +of mine is the most honest thing I have ever done, and that to +have acted out the tragi-comedy in the part of a happy contented +husband would have made of both of our lives a bitter useless +farce. Sincerely, + Philip." + +He folded the pages and addressed the envelope. + +"Pardon, Monsieur"--a whiff of sulphur came to his nose as the +waiter bent over the table to light the gas above him. "Would +Monsieur like to see the journal? There is a most amusing story +about---- The bill, Monsieur? Yes--in a moment." + +Philip glanced nervously through the pages of the Temps. He was +anxious to get the letter to the post--to have done with +indecision and worry. It would be a blessed relief when the thing +was finally done beyond chance of recall; why couldn't that +stupid waiter hurry? + +On the last page of the newspaper was an item headlined "Recent +News from America." Below was a sub-heading "Horrible Massacre +of Soldiers by Indians--Brave Stand of American Troopers." He +caught the name "Custer" and read: + +"And by his brave death at the hands of the Indians, this gallant +American general has made the name of Custer one which will +forever be associated with courage of the highest type." + +He read it all through again and sat quietly as the hand of +Polyphemus closed over him. He even smiled a little-- a weary, +ironic smile. + +"Monsieur desires something more, perhaps"--the waiter held out +the bill. + +Philip smiled. "No--Monsieur has finished--there is nothing +more." + +Then he repeated slowly, "There is nothing more." + +* * * * + +Philip watched his son George blow out the twelve candles on his +birthday cake. + +"Mother," said George, "when I get to be eighteen, can I be a +soldier just like grandfather up there?" He pointed to the +portrait of Philip's father in uniform which hung in the dining +room. + +"Of course you can, dear," said his mother. "But you must be a +brave boy". + +"Grandfather was awful brave, wasn't he father?" This from little +Mary between mouthfuls of cake. + +"Yes, Mary," Philip answered. "He was very, very brave." + +"Of course he was," said George. "He was an American." + +"Yes," answered Philip, "That explains it.--he was an +American." + +Mrs. Custer looked up at the portrait of her distinguished +father-in-law. + +"You know Philip, I think it must be quite nice to be able to +paint a picture like that. I've often wondered why you never +kept up your art," + + + +CHAPTER NINE + +"FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD" + +A DRAMA OF THE GREAT WAR + +Act I: In the Manner of Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews + +Act 2: In the Manner of Eugene O'Neill + +ACT ONE + +(Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews) + +SCENE I + + A principal street of an American city in the spring of 1918. + +At the rear of the stage, representing the opposite sidewalk of +the street, are gathered many people come to bid farewell to the +boys of the Blankth regiment who are soon to march past on their +way to France. + +Extending across the "street", from footlights to "sidewalk", is +a large white plaster arch, gayly decorated with the Allied +colors. + +On this arch is the inscription "For the Freedom of the World." + +At the rising of the curtain, distant march music is heard (off +stage, right); this constantly grows louder during the ensuing +dialogue which takes place between three elderly women crowded +together at the edge of the sidewalk. These women, although, +before the war, of different stations in social rank, are now +united, as are all mothers in the Allied countries, by the +glorious badge which each proudly wears pinned over her +heart--the service star. + +The Professor's Wife--I hear them coming. + +The Street-cleaner's Wife--So do I. I hope my boy Pat sees me. + +The Pawnbroker's Wife--I told my Jean where to look. + +The approaching music and the cheering of the spectators drowns +out further conversation. + +Enter (right) the regimental band playing the "Stars and Stripes +Forever." They march through the arch and exit left. Following +them comes the flag, at the sight of which all the male +spectators (young boys and men too old to fight) remove their +hats. After the colors come the troops, splendid clean faced +fellows, in whose eyes shines the light of civilization's ideals, +in whose ears rings the never forgettable cry of heroic France +and brave little Belgium. The boys are marching four abreast, +with a firm determined step; it is as though each man were saying +to himself "They shall not pass." + +After the first few squads have marched through the arch and off +left, the command is issued off-stage "Company--HALT." A young +lieutenant repeats this order to his men, and the column comes to +a stop. The men stand at attention until given the command +"Rest", when they relax and a murmur of conversation arises from +the ranks, in which characteristic sentences "German ideals are +not our ideals" and "Suppose it was your own sister" show only +too well what the boys are thinking of day and night. + +As the column halts, the three service star mothers rush out from +the curb and embrace their sons who happen to be in this company. +At the same time a very attractive girl runs up to the young +lieutenant. + +The Lieutenant--Ellen! +His Fiancee--John! +The Professor's Son} +The Streetcleaner's Son } Mother! +The Pawnbroker's Son } + +The Professor's Wife } +The Streetcleaner's Wife } My Boy! +The Pawnbroker's Wife } +Voice off stage--Company--Atten SHUN! + + The farewells are said, the men come to attention. + +Voice off stage--Forward--MARCH + +The Lieutenant--(Pointing with his sword to the inscription on +the arch)--Forward for the Freedom of the World--MARCH. + +The men's teeth click together, their heads are thrown back, and +with a light in their eyes that somehow suggests Joan of Arc the +Crusaders move on. + + SCENE 2 + + Three months later. + +A section of an American front line trench now occupied by the +Blankth regiment. + +It is early morning and the three soldiers mentioned in Scene 1 +are conversing together for perhaps the last time, for soon they +are to be given the chance which every American man desires more +than anything in the world-- the opportunity to go "over the +top". + +The Professor's Son--Well fellows, in a few minutes we shall be +able to show the people at home that their boys are not cowards +when the fate of civilization is at stake. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--Here's a newspaper clipping mother sent me. +It's from a speech made the other day in Congress. (He reads) +"And we and our children--and our children's children will never +forget the debt we owe those brave boys who are now in France." + +The Streetcleaner's Son--That makes a fellow feel pretty good +inside, doesn't it? It makes me glad I'm doing my bit-- and +after the war I hope the ideals which have inspired us all will +make us better citizens in a better world. + +The Professor's Son--Not only will we be better citizens-- not +only will the torch of liberty shine more brightly--but also each +one of us will go back to his job with a deeper vision. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--That's right I am a musician--a pianist, +you know--and I hope that after the war I shall be able to tell +America, through my music, of the glory of this holy cause. + +The Professor's Son--I didn't know you were a pianist. + +The Pawnbroker's Son--Yes--ever since I was a boy--I have had no +other interest. My father tried to make me go into his shop but +I couldn't stand it. He got angry and refused to support me; I +had a hard time until I won a scholarship at a New York musical +college. Just before the war I had a chance to play the Schumann +concerto with the Philharmonic; the critics all said that in +another year I would be-- but fellows--you must think me +frightfully conceited to talk so, and besides what matters my +musical career in comparison with the sacrifice which everyone is +making? + +The Streetcleaner's Son--And gladly making, too, for it is easy +to give up all, as did Joan of Arc, for France. Attention, men! +here comes one of our officers. + + The three stand at attention. + +Enter the Lieutenant. + +The Lieutenant--Well, men, do you feel ready? + +The Three--More than ready, sir--eager. + +The Lieutenant--Brave men! (To the Professor's Son) Come here a +minute, Keating. I have something to ask you before we go over +the top. + +The Professor's Son and the Lieutenant go to one side. + +The Lieutenant--(To the other two in a kindly manner)--At ease! + +The Streetcleaner's Son--Thank you, sir. + +They relax from their rigid posture of "attention". + +The Lieutenant--(To the Professor's Son)--Keating, when we "go +over", we--may--never come back, you know. And I want to ask a +favor of you. I am engaged--to a girl back home--here is her +picture (he draws a photograph from his inner breast pocket and +shows it to the Professor's Son.) + +The Professor's Son--She is beautiful, Sir. + +The Lieutenant--(Putting the photograph back in his pocket)-- Yes +very beautiful. And (dropping his eyes)--I love her. If--if I +should "go west" I want you to write her and tell her that my +last thoughts were of my country and--her. We are to be +married-- after the war--if (suddenly clearing his throat). Her +name is Ellen Radcliff--here, I'll write the address down for +you. + +He does so, and hands the slip of paper to the Professor's Son, +who discreetly turns away. + +The Lieutenant--(Brusquely)--That's all, Keating. + +A bugle sounds. + +The Lieutenant--Attention men! At the next bugle call you go +over the top-- remember that you are Americans and that Americans +know how to fight and die in the cause of liberty and for the +freedom of the world. The Three Soldiers--We are ready to make +the supreme sacrifice if need be. + + The bugle sounds. + +The Lieutenant--(Climbing up the ladder to the top of the +trench)-- Follow me, men-- + +The Three Soldiers--(Climbing up after him)--Lafayette--we come, +though poppies bloom in Flanders field. + + They go "over the top". + + SCENE 3 + + A section of a Hun trench a minute later. Two Hun soldiers are +conversing together; another Hun is reading a copy of Nietzsche. + +First Hun Soldier--And then we cut the hands off all the little +children-- oh it was wonderful. + +Second Hun Soldier--I wish I had been there. + + A Hun Lieutenant rushes in. + +The Hun Lieutenant--(Kicking the three men and brandishing his +revolver)--Swine--wake up--here come the Americans. + + The three spring to their feet and seize their guns. At the top +of the trench appears the American lieutenant, closely followed +by the three soldiers. + +The American Lieutenant--(Coolly)--We come to avenge the sinking +of the Lusitania. + +The Hun Lieutenant--Hoch der Kaiser! Might is stronger than +right! + + He treacherously tries to shoot the American but the Professor's +Son disarms him with his bayonet. The three Hun soldiers offer a +show of resistance. + +The Streetcleaner's Son--(To first Hun soldier)--Your hands are +unclean with the murder of innocent women and children. + +First Hun Soldier--(Dropping his gun)--Kamerad! + +The Pawnbroker's Son--(To the other Hun soldiers)-- Prussianism +has destroyed the Germany of Bach and Beethoven and you fellows +know it, too. + +Second and third Hun Soldiers--(Dropping their guns)--Kamerad! + +The American Lieutenant--Men--you have kept the faith. I am proud +of you. Forward! + + An explosion (not too loud to annoy the audience) is heard off +stage right. + +The Professor's Son--(Sinking to the ground) Fellows, I'm afraid +they've got me. + +The Streetcleaner's Son--What a shame! + +The Lieutenant--Is there anything we can do to ease the pain? + +The Professor's Son--(Weakening rapidly) No--go on, boys, carry +the--banner of--civilization's ideals--forward--without me-- Tell +mother I'm glad--I did--my bit--for the freedom-- of the +world--fellows, the only--thing--I regret--is that I won't-- be +able to be with you--when you--go back--to enjoy the gratitude-- +of America--good-bye, fellows, may you drink--to the full-- the +rewards of a grateful nation. + +He dies. The others regretfully leave him behind as they push on +after the fleeing Huns. + +The stage is slowly darkened--the noise of battle dies away. + +Enter an Angel in the uniform of the Y.M.C.A. She goes up to the +fallen hero and taking him in her arms tenderly carries him off +the stage. + +CURTAIN + +TWO YEARS PASS + +ACT TWO + +(Eugene O'Neill) + +SCENE I + + The bedroom of a bachelor apartment in New York City in the Fall +of 1920. + +There is about the room an air of neglect, as though the occupant +did not particularly give a damn whether he slept in this room or +in hell. This is evidenced in a general way by the absence of any +attempts at decoration and by the presence of dirty laundry and +unopened letters scattered about the room. + +The furniture consists of a bed and a bureau; at the foot of the +former is a trunk such as was used by American army officers in +the recent war. + +Although it is three in the morning, the bed is unoccupied. The +electric light over the bureau has been left lighted. + +The lamp flickers and goes out for a minute; when it again +flashes on, the Angel and the Professor's Son are seen standing +in the room, as though they had come there directly from the +close of the preceding act; the Angel, however, has completely +removed all Y.M.C.A. insignia and now has a beard and chews +tobacco; from time to time he spits out of the window. + +The angel--Why the hell weren't you satisfied to stay in heaven? + +The Professor's Son--Well, I just wanted to see my old buddies +once more-- I want to see them enjoying the gratitude of the +world. + +The Angel--Hmmmm--well, this is where your Lieutenant now lives-- +and I think I hear him coming. + + They step behind a curtain. The noise of a key rattling in a +lock is heard, then a light flashes on in the next room. The +sound of unsteady footsteps--a vase is knocked over--a curse-- +then enter the Lieutenant. + +He wears a dinner-coat, one sleeve of which hangs empty. His face +is white, his eyes set, his mouth hard and hopeless. He is +drunk--not hilariously--but with the drunkenness of despair. + +He sits down on the bed and remains for several minutes, his head +in his hands. + +The Lieutenant--God, I'm drunk--(after a pause)-- drunk +again--well, what of it--what the hell difference does it +make--get drunk if I want to--sure I will--get drunk-- that's the +dope DRUNK--oh Christ!-- + +He throws himself on the bed and after lying there a few minutes +sits up. + +The Lieutenant--Gotta have another drink--can't go sleep, God +damn it--brain too clear--gotta kill brain--that's the dope-- +kill brain--forget--wipe out past-- + +He opens the trunk in his search for liquor. He suddenly pulls +out his lieutenant's coat and holds it up, + +The Lieutenant--There's that God damn thing--never wanted to see +it again-- wound stripes on right sleeve, too--hurrah for brave +soldier--arm shot off to--to make world safe for +democracy--blaa--the god damn hypocrites-- democracy hell--arm +shot off because I wasn't clever enough to stay out of it--ought +to have had sense enough to join the--the ordinance department +or--or the Y.M.C.A. + +He feels aimlessly through the pockets of the coat. Suddenly, +from the inside breast pocket he draws out something--a +photograph-- + +The Lieutenant--Ellen! Oh God! + +He gazes at the picture for a long time. + +The Lieutenant--Yes, Ellen, I should have joined the Y.M.C.A. +shouldn't I?--where they don't get their arms shot off-- couldn't +marry a man with one arm, could you?--of course not-- think of +looking at an empty sleeve year after year-- children might be +born with only one arm, too--children--oh God damn you, Ellen, +you and your Y.M.C.A. husband! + + He tears the picture in two and hurls it into the trunk. Then he +sinks onto the bed, sobbing drunkenly. After a few minutes, he +walks over to the trunk and picks up one half of the torn +picture. He turns it over in his hand and reads the writing on +the back. + +The Lieutenant (Reading)--"I'm waiting for you, dear--when you +have done your bit 'for the freedom of the world'." + +He smiles, wearily, and reaches down to pick up the other half of +the picture. His eye is caught by something shiny; it is his +army revolver. He slowly picks it up and looks at it for a long +time. + +The Lieutenant--For the freedom of the world-- + +He quickly opens his top bureau drawer and takes out a box of +cartridges. One of these he inserts in a chamber of his revolver. + +The Lieutenant--For the FREEDOM-- + +He laughs. + +As the curtain falls he presses the revolver against his temple +and fires. + + SCENE 2 + + A bare room in a boarding house. To the left is a bed, to the +right a grand piano--the latter curiously out of keeping with the +other cheap furnishings. The room is in partial darkness. + +The door slowly swings open; the Angel and the Professor's Son +enter. + +The Angel--And here you have the room of your friend the +Pawnbroker's Son-- the musical genius--with a brilliant future. + +They hide in a closet, leaving the door partly open. + +Enter Jean, the Pawnbroker's Son. He has on a cutaway suit-- a +relic of his first and last public concert before the war. His +shoulders sag dejectedly and his face is drawn and white. He +comes in and sits on the bed. A knock--a determined knock-- is +heard at the door but Jean does not move. The door opens and his +landlady--a shrewish, sharp faced woman of 40--appears. He gets +up off the bed when he sees her and bows. + +The Landlady--I forgot you was deef or I wouldn't have wasted my +time hitting my knuckles against your door. + +Jean gazes at her. + +The Landlady--Well Mr. Rosen I guess you know why I'm here-- it's +pay up today or get out. + +Jean--Please write it down--you know I cannot hear a word you +say. I suppose it's about the rent. + +The landlady takes paper and pencil and writes. + +The Landlady--(Reading over the result of her labor)-- +"To-day--is--the--last day. If you can't pay, you must get out " + +She hands it to Jean and he reads. + +Jean--But I cannot pay. Next week perhaps I shall get work-- + +The Landlady--(Scornfully)--Yes--Next week maybe I have to sell +another liberty bond for seventy dollars what I paid a hundred +dollars for, too. No sir I need the money NOW. Here-- + + She writes and hands it to him. + +Jean (Reading)--Sell my piano? But please I cannot do that--yet. + +The Landlady--A lot of good a piano does a deef person like you. +That's a good one--( She laughs harshly). The deef musician--ho +ho-- with a piano. + +Jean--Madam, I shall pay you surely next week. There has been +some delay in my war risk insurance payment. I should think that +you would trust a soldier who lost his hearing in the trenches-- + +The Landlady--That's old stuff. You soldiers think just because +you were unlucky enough to get drafted you can spend the rest of +your life patting yourselves on the back. Besides--what good did +the war do anyway-- except make a lot of rich people richer? + +She scribbles emphatically "Either you pay up tonight or out you +go." + +Handing this to Jean with a flourish, she exits. + + He sits on the bed for a long time. + +Finally he glances up at the wall over his bed where hangs a +cheap photo frame. In the center is a picture of President +Wilson; on one side of this is a crude print of a soldier, on the +other side a sailor; above is the inscription "For the Freedom of +the World." + +Jean takes down the picture and looks at it. As he replaces it +on the wall he sees hanging above it the bayonet which he had +carried through the war. He slowly takes the weapon down, runs +his fingers along the edge and smiles--a quiet tired smile which +does not leave his face during the rest of the scene. + +He walks over to the piano and plays the opening chords of the +Schumann concerto. Then shaking his head sadly, he tenderly +closes down the lid and locks it. + +He next writes a note which he folds and places, with the key to +the piano, in an envelope. Sealing and addressing the envelope, +he places it on the piano. Then, walking over to the bed, he +picks up the bayonet, and shutting his eyes for an instant, he +steps forward and cuts his throat as the curtain falls. + + SCENE 3 + + Same as Act 1, Scene 1 except for the changes made in the city +street by a year or more of peace. + +The arch across the thoroughfare still stands, although it has +become badly discolored and dirty; the inscription "For the +Freedom of the World" is but faintly visible. As the curtain +rises workmen are busy at work tearing the arch down. + + Enter the Angel and the Professor's Son. + +The Angel--Stand over here, out of the way, and you'll see the +last of your cronies--Pat, the Streetcleaner's Son-- enjoying the +gratitude of the world. + +The Professor's Son does not answer. + + Enter Pat. He has on an old pair of corduroy trousers, with his +brown army shirt, and shoes out at the heel. + +He looks as if he had not slept for days certainly he has not +shaved for a week. He approaches one of the workmen. + +Pat--Say buddy any chance for a job here? + +The Workman--Hell no. They was fifty applicants yesterday. +(Looking at his army shirt) Most of them ex-soldiers like you. +Jobs is mighty scarce. + +Pat--I'll tell the world they are. I'd almost join the army +again, except for my wife and kid. + +The Workman--God--don't do it. + +Pat--Why--was you across? + +The Workman--Yes, God damn it--eight months. Next war I'll let +somebody else do the fighting. + +Pat--Same here. The wise guys were them that stayed at home and +kept their jobs. + +The Workman--I'll say they were. + +Pat--(Growing more excited)--And while we was over there +fighting, nothing was too good for us--"brave boys," they said, +"we shall never forget what you have done for us." Never +forget--hell! In about a year everybody forgot there ever was a +war and a fellow has a hell of a time getting a job--and when you +mention the war they just laugh--why God damn it, I've been out +of work for six months and I ain't no loafer either and my wife +has had to go back to her folks and I'm just about all in-- + + During this speech the work on dismantling the arch has steadily +progressed. Suddenly there comes a warning cry--"Look out"--as +the supports unexpectedly give way. Pat is too engrossed in his +tirade to take heed, and as the center portion of the arch falls +it crushes him beneath its weight. After the cloud of dust +clears, he is seen lying under the mass. By a curious twist of +fate he has been crushed by the portion of the arch bearing the +inscription "For the Freedom of the World." His eyes open for an +instant--he reads, through the mist of approaching death, the +words, and he laughs-- + +Pat--For the Freedom of the World--Oh Christ! + +His mocking laughter is interrupted by a severe fit of coughing +and he sinks back dead. + +The Professor's Son--Oh God--take me somewhere where I can't ever +see the world. + +The angel--Come to heaven. + +CURTAIN + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Parody Outline of History, by Stewart + diff --git a/old/old/apooh10.zip b/old/old/apooh10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d2fcb11 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/apooh10.zip |
