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diff --git a/3162-h/3162-h.htm b/3162-h/3162-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eed79b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/3162-h/3162-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4201 @@ +<?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> + The Enchanted Typewriter, by John Kendrick Bangs + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; 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; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .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 The Enchanted Typewriter, by John Kendrick Bangs + +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: The Enchanted Typewriter + +Author: John Kendrick Bangs + +Release Date: February 15, 2009 [EBook #3162] +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ENCHANTED TYPEWRITER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE ENCHANTED TYPEWRITER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By John Kendrick Bangs + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DISCOVERY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II. </a> + </td> + <td> + MR. BOSWELL IMPARTS SOME LATE NEWS OF HADES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III. </a> + </td> + <td> + FROM ADVANCE SHEETS OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN'S FURTHER RECOLLECTIONS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + A CHAT WITH XANTHIPPE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE EDITING OF XANTHIPPE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE BOSWELL TOURS: PERSONALLY CONDUCTED + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN IMPORTANT DECISION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + A HAND-BOOK TO HADES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + SHERLOCK HOLMES AGAIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X. </a> + </td> + <td> + GOLF IN HADES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I. THE DISCOVERY + </h2> + <p> + It is a strange fact, for which I do not expect ever satisfactorily to + account, and which will receive little credence even among those who know + that I am not given to romancing—it is a strange fact, I say, that + the substance of the following pages has evolved itself during a period of + six months, more or less, between the hours of midnight and four o'clock + in the morning, proceeding directly from a type-writing machine standing + in the corner of my library, manipulated by unseen hands. The machine is + not of recent make. It is, in fact, a relic of the early seventies, which + I discovered one morning when, suffering from a slight attack of the grip, + I had remained at home and devoted my time to pottering about in the + attic, unearthing old books, bringing to the light long-forgotten + correspondences, my boyhood collections of “stuff,” and other + memory-inducing things. Whence the machine came originally I do not + recall. My impression is that it belonged to a stenographer once in the + employ of my father, who used frequently to come to our house to take down + dictations. However this may be, the machine had lain hidden by dust and + the flotsam and jetsam of the house for twenty years, when, as I have + said, I came upon it unexpectedly. Old man as I am—I shall soon be + thirty—the fascination of a machine has lost none of its potency. I + am as pleased to-day watching the wheels of my watch “go round” as ever I + was, and to “monkey” with a type-writing apparatus has always brought + great joy into my heart—though for composing give me the pen. + Perhaps I should apologize for the use here of the verb monkey, which + savors of what a friend of mine calls the “English slanguage,” to + differentiate it from what he also calls the “Andrew Language.” But I + shall not do so, because, to whatever branch of our tongue the word may + belong, it is exactly descriptive, and descriptive as no other word can + be, of what a boy does with things that click and “go,” and is therefore + not at all out of place in a tale which I trust will be regarded as a + polite one. + </p> + <p> + The discovery of the machine put an end to my attic potterings. I cared + little for finding old bill-files and collections of Atlantic cable-ends + when, with a whole morning, a type-writing machine, and a screw-driver + before me I could penetrate the mysteries of that useful mechanism. I + shall not endeavor to describe the delightful sensations of that hour of + screwing and unscrewing; they surpass the powers of my pen. Suffice it to + say that I took the whole apparatus apart, cleaned it well, oiled every + joint, and then put it together again. I do not suppose a seven-year-old + boy could have derived more satisfaction from taking a piano to pieces. It + was exhilarating, and I resolved that as a reward for the pleasure it had + given me the machine should have a brand-new ribbon and as much ink as it + could consume. And that, in brief, is how it came to be that this machine + of antiquated pattern was added to the library bric-a-brac. To say the + truth, it was of no more practical use than Barye's dancing bear, a + plaster cast of which adorns my mantel-shelf, so that when I classify it + with the bric-a-brac I do so advisedly. I frequently tried to write a jest + or two upon it, but the results were extraordinarily like Sir Arthur + Sullivan's experience with the organ into whose depths the lost chord + sank, never to return. I dashed off the jests well enough, but somewhere + between the keys and the types they were lost, and the results, when I + came to scan the paper, were depressing. And once I tried a sonnet on the + keys. Exactly how to classify the jumble that came out of it I do not + know, but it was curious enough to have appealed strongly to D'Israeli or + any other collector of the literary oddity. More singular than the sonnet, + though, was the fact that when I tried to write my name upon this strange + machine, instead of finding it in all its glorious length written upon the + paper, I did find “William Shakespeare” printed there in its stead. Of + course you will say that in putting the machine together I mixed up the + keys and the letters. I have no doubt that I did, but when I tell you that + there have been times when, looking at myself in the glass, I have fancied + that I saw in my mirrored face the lineaments of the great bard; that the + contour of my head is precisely the same as was his; that when visiting + Stratford for the first time every foot of it was pregnant with clearly + defined recollections to me, you will perhaps more easily picture to + yourself my sensations at the moment. + </p> + <p> + However, enough of describing the machine in its relation to myself. I + have said sufficient, I think, to convince you that whatever its make, its + age, and its limitations, it was an extraordinary affair; and, once + convinced of that, you may the more readily believe me when I tell you + that it has gone into business apparently for itself—and + incidentally for me. + </p> + <p> + It was on the morning of the 26th of March last that I discovered the + curious condition of affairs concerning which I have essayed to write. My + family do not agree with me as to the date. They say that it was on the + evening of the 25th of March that the episode had its beginning; but they + are not aware, for I have not told them, that it was not evening, but + morning, when I reached home after the dinner at the Aldus Club. It was at + a quarter of three A.M. precisely that I entered my house and proceeded to + remove my hat and coat, in which operation I was interrupted, and in a + startling manner, by a click from the dark recesses of the library. A man + does not like to hear a click which he cannot comprehend, even before he + has dined. After he has dined, however, and feels a satisfaction with life + which cannot come to him before dinner, to hear a mysterious click, and + from a dark corner, at an hour when the world is at rest, is not pleasing. + To say that my heart jumped into my mouth is mild. I believe it jumped out + of my mouth and rebounded against the wall opposite back though my system + into my boots. All the sins of my past life, and they are many—I + once stepped upon a caterpillar, and I have coveted my neighbor both his + man-servant and his maid-servant, though not his wife nor his ass, because + I don't like his wife and he keeps no live-stock—all my sins, I say, + rose up before me, for I expected every moment that a bullet would + penetrate my brain, or my heart if perchance the burglar whom I suspected + of levelling a clicking revolver at me aimed at my feet. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” I cried, making a vocal display of bravery I did not feel, + hiding behind our hair sofa. + </p> + <p> + The only answer was another click. + </p> + <p> + “This is serious,” I whispered softly to myself. “There are two of 'em; I + am in the light, unarmed. They are concealed by the darkness and have + revolvers. There is only one way out of this, and that is by strategy. + I'll pretend I think I've made a mistake.” So I addressed myself aloud. + </p> + <p> + “What an idiot you are,” I said, so that my words could be heard by the + burglars. “If this is the effect of Aldus Club dinners you'd better give + them up. That click wasn't a click at all, but the ticking of our new + eight-day clock.” + </p> + <p> + I paused, and from the corner there came a dozen more clicks in quick + succession, like the cocking of as many revolvers. + </p> + <p> + “Great Heavens!” I murmured, under my breath. “It must be Ali Baba with + his forty thieves.” + </p> + <p> + As I spoke, the mystery cleared itself, for following close upon a + thirteenth click came the gentle ringing of a bell, and I knew then that + the type-writing machine was in action; but this was by no means a + reassuring discovery. Who or what could it be that was engaged upon the + type-writer at that unholy hour, 3 A.M.? If a mortal being, why was my + coming no interruption? If a supernatural being, what infernal + complication might not the immediate future have in store for me? + </p> + <p> + My first impulse was to flee the house, to go out into the night and pace + the fields—possibly to rush out to the golf links and play a few + holes in the dark in order to cool my brow, which was rapidly becoming + fevered. Fortunately, however, I am not a man of impulse. I never yield to + a mere nerve suggestion, and so, instead of going out into the storm and + certainly contracting pneumonia, I walked boldly into the library to + investigate the causes of the very extraordinary incident. You may rest + well assured, however, that I took care to go armed, fortifying myself + with a stout stick, with a long, ugly steel blade concealed within it—a + cowardly weapon, by-the-way, which I permit to rest in my house merely + because it forms a part of a collection of weapons acquired through the + failure of a comic paper to which I had contributed several articles. The + editor, when the crash came, sent me the collection as part payment of + what was owed me, which I think was very good of him, because a great many + people said that it was my stuff that killed the paper. But to return to + the story. Fortifying myself with the sword-cane, I walked boldly into the + library, and, touching the electric button, soon had every gas-jet in the + room giving forth a brilliant flame; but these, brilliant as they were, + disclosed nothing in the chair before the machine. + </p> + <p> + The latter, apparently oblivious of my presence, went clicking merrily and + as rapidly along as though some expert young woman were in charge. Imagine + the situation if you can. A type-writing machine of ancient make, its + letters clear, but out of accord with the keys, confronted by an empty + chair, three hours after midnight, rattling off page after page of + something which might or might not be readable, I could not at the moment + determine. For two or three minutes I gazed in open-mouthed wonder. I was + not frightened, but I did experience a sensation which comes from contact + with the uncanny. As I gradually grasped the situation and became used, + somewhat, to what was going on, I ventured a remark. + </p> + <p> + “This beats the deuce!” I observed. + </p> + <p> + The machine stopped for an instant. The sheet of paper upon which the + impressions of letters were being made flew out from under the cylinder, a + pure white sheet was as quickly substituted, and the keys clicked off the + line: + </p> + <p> + “What does?” + </p> + <p> + I presumed the line was in response to my assertion, so I replied: + </p> + <p> + “You do. What uncanny freak has taken possession of you to-night that you + start in to write on your own hook, having resolutely declined to do any + writing for me ever since I rescued you from the dust and dirt and cobwebs + of the attic?” + </p> + <p> + “You never rescued me from any attic,” the machine replied. “You'd better + go to bed; you've dined too well, I imagine. When did you rescue me from + the dust and dirt and the cobwebs of any attic?” + </p> + <p> + “What an ungrateful machine you are!” I cried. “If you have sense enough + to go into writing on your own account, you ought to have mind enough to + remember the years you spent up-stairs under the roof neglected, and + covered with hammocks, awnings, family portraits, and receipted bills.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, my dear fellow,” the machine tapped back, “I must repeat it. Bed + is the place for you. You're not coherent. I'm not a machine, and upon my + honor, I've never seen your darned old attic.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a machine!” I cried. “Then what in Heaven's name are you?—a + sofa-cushion?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be sarcastic, my dear fellow,” replied the machine. “Of course I'm + not a machine; I'm Jim—Jim Boswell.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I roared. “You? A thing with keys and type and a bell—” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got any keys or any type or a bell. What on earth are you + talking about?” replied the machine. “What have you been eating?” + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” I asked, putting my hand on the keys. + </p> + <p> + “That's keys,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “And these, and that?” I added, indicating the type and the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Type and bell,” replied the machine. + </p> + <p> + “And yet you say you haven't got them,” I persisted. + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't. The machine has got them, not I,” was the response. “I'm + not the machine. I'm the man that's using it—Jim—Jim Boswell. + What good would a bell do me? I'm not a cow or a bicycle. I'm the editor + of the Stygian Gazette, and I've come here to copy off my notes of what I + see and hear, and besides all this I do type-writing for various people in + Hades, and as this machine of yours seemed to be of no use to you I + thought I'd try it. But if you object, I'll go.” + </p> + <p> + As I read these lines upon the paper I stood amazed and delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Go!” I cried, as the full value of his patronage of my machine dawned + upon me, for I could sell his copy and he would be none the worse off, + for, as I understand the copyright laws, they are not designed to benefit + authors, but for the protection of type-setters. “Why, my dear fellow, it + would break my heart if, having found my machine to your taste, you should + ever think of using another. I'll lend you my bicycle, too, if you'd like + it—in fact, anything I have is at your command.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much,” returned Boswell through the medium of the keys, as + usual. “I shall not need your bicycle, but this machine is of great value + to me. It has several very remarkable qualities which I have never found + in any other machine. For instance, singular to relate, Mendelssohn and I + were fooling about here the other night, and when he saw this machine he + thought it was a spinet of some new pattern; so what does he do but sit + down and play me one of his songs without words on it, and, by jove! when + he got through, there was the theme of the whole thing printed on a sheet + of paper before him.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't really mean to say—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “I'm telling you precisely what happened,” said Boswell. “Mendelssohn was + tickled to death with it, and he played every song without words that he + ever wrote, and every one of 'em was fitted with words which he said + absolutely conveyed the ideas he meant to bring out with the music. Then I + tried the machine, and discovered another curious thing about it. It's + intensely American. I had a story of Alexander Dumas' about his Musketeers + that he wanted translated from French into American, which is the language + we speak below, in preference to German, French, Volapuk, or English. I + thought I'd copy off a few lines of the French original, and as true as + I'm sitting here before your eyes, where you can't see me, the copy I got + was a good, though rather free, translation. Think of it! That's an + advanced machine for you!” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the machine wistfully. “I wish I could make it work,” I said; + and I tried as before to tap off my name, and got instead only a confused + jumble of letters. It wouldn't even pay me the compliment of transforming + my name into that of Shakespeare, as it had previously done. + </p> + <p> + It was thus that the magic qualities of the machine were made known to me, + and out of it the following papers have grown. I have set them down + without much editing or alteration, and now submit them to your + inspection, hoping that in perusing them you will derive as much + satisfaction and delight as I have in being the possessor of so wonderful + a machine, manipulated by so interesting a person as “Jim—Jim + Boswell”—as he always calls himself—and others, who, as you + will note, if perchance you have the patience to read further, have upon + occasions honored my machine by using it. + </p> + <p> + I must add in behalf of my own reputation for honesty that Mr. Boswell has + given me all right, title, and interest in these papers in this world as a + return for my permission to him to use my machine. + </p> + <p> + “What if they make a hit and bring in barrels of gold in royalties,” he + said. “I can't take it back with me where I live, so keep it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. MR. BOSWELL IMPARTS SOME LATE NEWS OF HADES + </h2> + <p> + Boswell was a little late in arriving the next night. He had agreed to be + on hand exactly at midnight, but it was after one o'clock before the + machine began to click and the bell to ring. I had fallen asleep in the + soft upholstered depths of my armchair, feeling pretty thoroughly worn out + by the experiences of the night before, which, in spite of their pleasant + issue, were nevertheless somewhat disturbing to a nervous organization + like mine. Suddenly I waked, and with the awakening there entered into my + mind the notion that the whole thing was merely a dream, and that in the + end it would be the better for me if I were to give up Aldus and other + club dinners with nightmare inducing menus. But I was soon convinced that + the real state of affairs was quite otherwise, and that everything really + had happened as I have already related it to you, for I had hardly gotten + my eyes free from what my poetic son calls “the seeds of sleep” when I + heard the type-writer tap forth: + </p> + <p> + “Hello, old man!” + </p> + <p> + Incidentally let me say that this had become another interesting feature + of the machine. Since my first interview with Boswell the taps seemed to + speak, and if some one were sitting before it and writing a line the mere + differentiation of sounds of the various keys would convey to the mind the + ideas conveyed to it by the printed words. So, as I say, my ears were + greeted with a clicking “Hello, old man!” followed immediately by the + bell. + </p> + <p> + “You are late,” said I, looking at my watch. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” was the response. “But I can't help it. During the campaign I + am kept so infernally busy I hardly know where I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Campaign, eh?” I put in. “Do you have campaigns in Hades?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Boswell, “and we are having a—well, to be polite, a + regular Gehenna of a time. Things have changed much in Hades latterly. + There has been a great growth in the democratic spirit below, and his + Majesty is having a deuce of a time running his kingdom. Washington and + Cromwell and Caesar have had the nerve to demand a constitution from the + venerable Nicholas—” + </p> + <p> + “From whom?” I queried, perplexed somewhat, for I was not yet fully awake. + </p> + <p> + “Old Nick,” replied Boswell; “and I can tell you there's a pretty fight on + between the supporters of the administration and the opposition. Secure in + his power, the Grand Master of Hades has been somewhat arbitrary, and he + has made the mistake of doing some of his subjects a little too brown. + Take the case of Bonaparte, for instance: the government has ruled that he + was personally responsible for all the wars of Europe from 1800 up to + Waterloo, and it was proposed to hang him once for every man killed on + either side throughout that period. Bonaparte naturally resisted. He said + he had a good neck, which he did not object to have broken three or four + times, because he admitted he deserved it; but when it came to hanging him + five or six million times, once a month, for, say, five million months, or + twelve times a year for 415,000 years, he didn't like it, and wouldn't + stand it, and wanted to submit the question to arbitration. + </p> + <p> + “Nicholas observed that the word arbitration was not in his especially + expurgated dictionary, whereupon Bonaparte remarked that he wasn't + responsible for that; that he thought it a good word and worthy of + incorporation in any dictionary and in all vocabularies. + </p> + <p> + “'I don't care what you think,' retorted his Majesty. 'It's what I don't + think that goes;' and he commanded his imps to prepare the gallows on the + third Thursday of each month for Bonaparte's expiation; ordered his + secretary to send Bonaparte a type-written notice that his presence on + each occasion was expected, and gave orders to the police to see that he + was there willy-nilly. Naturally Bonaparte resisted, and appealed to the + courts. Blackstone sustained his appeal, and Nicholas overruled him. The + first Thursday came, and the police went for the Emperor, but he was + surrounded by a good half of the men who had fought under him, and the + minions of the law could do nothing against them. In consequence, + Bonaparte's brother, Joseph, a quiet, inoffensive citizen, was dragged + from his home and hanged in his place, Nicholas contending that when a + soldier could not, or would not, serve, the government had a right to + expect a substitute. Well,” said Boswell, at this point, “that set all + Hades on fire. We were divided as to Bonaparte's deserts, but the hanging + of other people as substitutes was too much. We didn't know who'd be + substituted next. The English backed up Blackstone, of course. The French + army backed up Bonaparte. The inoffensive citizens were aroused in behalf + of Joseph, for they saw at once whither they were drifting if the + substitute idea was carried out to its logical conclusion; and in half an + hour the administration was on the defensive, which, as you know, is a + very, very, very bad thing for an administration.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, if it desires to be returned to office,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “It is anyhow,” replied Boswell through the medium of the keys. “It's in + exactly the same position as that of a humorist who has to print + explanatory diagrams with all of his jokes. The administration papers were + hot over the situation. The king can do no wrong idea was worked for all + it was worth, but beyond this they drew pathetic pictures of the result of + all these deplorable tendencies. What was Hades for, they asked, if a man, + after leading a life of crime in the other world, was not to receive his + punishment there? The attitude of the opposition was a radical and vicious + blow at the vital principles of the sphere itself. The opposition papers + coolly and calmly took the position that the vital principles of Hades + were all right; that it was the extreme view as to the power of the + Emperor taken by that person himself that wouldn't go in these democratic + days. Punishment for Bonaparte was the correct thing, and Bonaparte + expected some, but was not grasping enough to want it all. They added that + recent fully settled ideas as to a humane application of the laws required + the bunching of the indictments or the selection of one and a fair trial + based upon that, and that anyhow, under no circumstances, should a wholly + innocent person be made to suffer for the crimes of another. These + journals were suppressed, but the next day a set of new papers were + started to promulgate the same theories as to individual rights. The + province of Cimmeria declared itself independent of the throne, and set up + in the business of government for itself. Gehenna declared for the + Emperor, but insisted upon home rule for cities of its own class, and + finally, as I informed you at the beginning, Washington, Cromwell, and + Caesar went in person to Apollyon and demanded a constitution. That was + the day before yesterday, and just what will come of it we don't as yet + know, because Washington and Cromwell and Caesar have not been seen since, + but we have great fears for them, because seventeen car-loads of vitriol + and a thousand extra tons of coal were ordered by the Lord High Steward of + the palace to be delivered to the Minister of Justice last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a complication,” said I. “The Americanization of Hades has begun at + last. How does society regard the affair?” + </p> + <p> + “Variously,” observed Boswell. “Society hates the government as much as + anybody, and really believes in curtailing the Emperor's powers, but, on + the other hand, it desires to maintain all of its own aristocratic + privileges. The main trouble in Hades at present is the gradual + disintegration of society; that is to say, its former component parts are + beginning to differentiate themselves the one from the other.” + </p> + <p> + “Like capital and labor here?” I queried. + </p> + <p> + “In a sense, yes—possibly more like your Colonial Dames, and + Daughters of the Revolution. For instance, great organizations are in + process of formation—people are beginning to flock together for + purposes of protection. Charles the First and Henry the Eighth and Louis + the Fourteenth have established Ye Ancient and Honorable Order of Kings, + to which only those who have actually worn crowns shall be eligible. The + painters have gotten together with a Society of Fine Arts, the sculptors + have formed a Society of Chisellers, and all the authors from Homer down + to myself have got up an Authors' Club where we have a lovely time talking + about ourselves, no man to be eligible who hasn't written something that + has lasted a hundred years. Perhaps, if you are thinking of coming over + soon, you'll let me put you on our waiting-list?” + </p> + <p> + I smiled at his seeming inconsistency and let myself into his snare. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't written anything that has lasted a hundred years yet,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I think you have,” replied Boswell, and the machine seemed to + laugh as he wrote out his answer. “I saw a joke of yours the other day + that's two hundred centuries old. Diogenes showed it to me and said that + it was a great favorite with his grandfather, who had inherited it from + one of his remote ancestors.” + </p> + <p> + A hot retort was on my lips, but I had no wish to offend my guest, so I + smiled and observed that I had frequently indulged in unconscious + plagiarism of that sort. + </p> + <p> + “I should imagine,” I hastened to add, “that to men like Charles the First + this uncertainty as to the safety of Cromwell would be great joy.” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know,” returned Boswell. “That very question has been discussed + among us. Charles made a great outward show of grief when he heard of the + coal being delivered at the office of the Minister of Justice, and we all + thought him quite magnanimous, but it leaked out, just before I left to + come here, that he sent his private secretary to the palace with a Panama + hat and a palm-leaf fan for Cromwell, with his congratulations. + </p> + <p> + “That seems to savor somewhat of sarcasm.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ultimately Hades is bound to be a republic,” replied Boswell. “There + are too many clever and ambitious politicians among us for the place to go + along as a despotism much longer. If the place were filled up with poets + and society people, and things like that, it might go on as an autocracy + forever, but you see it isn't. To men of the caliber of Alexander the + Great and Bonaparte and Caesar, and a thousand other warriors who never + were used to taking orders from anybody, but were themselves headquarters, + the despotic sway of Apollyon is intolerable, and he hasn't made any + effort to conciliate any of them. If he had appointed Bonaparte + commander-in-chief of his army and made a friend of him, instead of + ordering him to be hanged every month for 415,000 years, or put Caesar in + as Secretary of State, instead of having him roasted three times a month + for seventy or eighty centuries, he would have strengthened his hold. As + it is, he has ignored all these people officially, treats them like + criminals personally; makes friends with Mazarin and Powhatan, awards the + office of Tax Assessor to Dick Turpin, and makes old Falstaff commander of + his Imperial Guard. And just because poor Ben Jonson scribbled off a rhyme + for my paper, The Gazette—a rhyme running: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Mazarin And Powhatan, + Turpin and Falstaff, + Form, you bet, A cabinet + To make a donkey laugh. + + Mazarin And Powhatan + Run Apollyon's state. + The Dick and Jacks Collect the tax— + The people pay the freight. +</pre> + <p> + —just because Jonson wrote that and I published it, my paper was + confiscated, Jonson was boiled in oil for ten weeks, and I was seized and + thrown into a dungeon where a lot of savages from the South Sea Islands + tattooed the darned old jingle between my shoulder blades in green + letters, and not satisfied with this barbaric act, right under the jingle + they added the line, in red letters, 'This edition strictly limited to one + copy, for private circulation only,' and they every one of 'em, Apollyon, + Mazarin, and the rest, signed the guarantee personally with red-hot pens + dipped in sulphuric acid. It makes a valuable collection of autographs, no + doubt, but I prefer my back as nature made it. Talk about enlightened + government under a man who'll permit things like that to be done!” + </p> + <p> + I ought not to have done it, but I couldn't help smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I must say,” I observed, apologetically, “that the treatment was + barbarous, but really I do think it showed a sense of humor on the part of + the government.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” replied Boswell, with a sigh; “but when the joke is on me I + don't enjoy it very much. I'm only human, and should prefer to observe + that the government had some sense of justice.” + </p> + <p> + The apparently empty chair before the machine gave a slight hitch forward, + and the type-writer began to tap again. + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to excuse me now,” observed Boswell through the usual medium. + “I have work to do, and if you'll go to bed like a good fellow, while I + copy off the minutes of the last meeting of the Authors' Club, I'll see + that you don't lose anything by it. After I get the minutes done I have an + interesting story for my Sunday paper from the advance sheets of + Munchausen's Further Recollections, which I shall take great pleasure in + leaving for you when I depart. If you will take the bundle of manuscript I + leave with you and boil it in alcohol for ten minutes, you will be able to + read it, and, no doubt, if you copy it off, sell it for a goodly sum. It + is guaranteed absolutely genuine.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said I, rising, “I'll go; but I should think you would put in + most of your time whacking at the government editorially, instead of going + in for minutes and abstract stories of adventure.” + </p> + <p> + “You do, eh?” said Boswell. “Well, if you were in my place you'd change + your mind. After my unexpected endorsement by the Emperor and his cabinet, + I've decided to keep out of politics for a little while. I can stand + having a poem tattooed on my back, but if it came to having a three-column + editorial expressing my emotions etched alongside of my spine, I'm afraid + I'd disappear into thin air.” + </p> + <p> + So I left him at work and retired. The next morning I found the promised + bundle of manuscripts, and, after boiling the pages as instructed, + discovered the following tale. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. FROM ADVANCE SHEETS OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN'S FURTHER RECOLLECTIONS + </h2> + <p> + It is with some very considerable hesitation that I come to this portion + of my personal recollections, and yet I feel that I owe it to my + fellow-citizens in this delightful Stygian country, where we are all + enjoying our well-earned rest, to lay before them the exact truth + concerning certain incidents which have now passed into history, and for + participation in which a number of familiar figures are improperly gaining + all the credit, or discredit, as the case may be. It is not a pleasant + task to expose an impostor; much less is it agreeable to expose four + impostors; but to one who from the earliest times—and when I say + earliest times I speak advisedly, as you will see as you read on—to + one, I say, who from the earliest times has been actuated by no other + motive than the promulgation of truth, the task of exposing fraud becomes + a duty which cannot be ignored. Therefore, with regret I set down this + chapter of my memoirs, regardless of its consequences to certain figures + which have been of no inconsiderable importance in our community for many + years—figures which in my own favorite club, the Associated Shades, + have been most welcome, but which, as I and they alone know, have been + nothing more than impostures. + </p> + <p> + In previous volumes I have confined my attention to my memoirs as Baron + Munchausen—but, dear reader, there are others. I WAS NOT ALWAYS + BARON MUNCHAUSEN; I HAVE BEEN OTHERS! I am not aware that it has fallen to + the lot of any but myself in the whole span of universal existence to live + more than one life upon that curious, compact little ball of land and + water called the Earth, but, in any event, to me has fallen that privilege + or distinction, or whatever it may be, and upon the record made by me in + four separate existences, placed centuries apart, four residents of this + sphere are basing their claims to notice, securing election to our clubs, + and even venturing so far at times as to make themselves personally + obnoxious to me, who with a word could expose their wicked deceit in all + its naked villainy to an astounded community. And in taking this course + they have gone too far. There is a limit beyond which no man shall dare go + with me. Satisfied with the ultimate embodiment of my virtues in the Baron + Munchausen, I have been disposed to allow the impostors to pursue their + deception in peace so long as they otherwise behave themselves, but when + Adam chooses to allude to my writings as frothy lies, when Jonah attacks + my right as a literary person to tell tales of leviathans, when Noah + states that my ignorance in yachting matters is colossal, and when William + Shakespeare publicly brands me as a person unworthy of belief who should + be expelled from the Associated Shades, then do I consider it time to + speak out and expose four of the greatest frauds that have ever been + inflicted upon a long-suffering public. + </p> + <p> + To begin at the beginning then, let me state that my first recollection + dates back to a beautiful summer morning, when in a lovely garden I opened + my eyes and became conscious of two very material facts: first, a charming + woman arranging her hair in the mirror-like waters of a silver lake + directly before me; and, second, a poignant pain in my side, as though I + had been operated upon for appendicitis, but which in reality resulted + from the loss of a rib which had in turn evoluted into the charming and + very human being I now saw before me. That woman was Eve; that mirror-like + lake was set in the midst of the Garden of Eden; I was Adam, and not this + watery-eyed antediluvian calling himself by my name, who is a familiar + figure in the Anthropological Society, an authority on evolution, and a + blot upon civilization. + </p> + <p> + I have little to say about this first existence of mine. It was full of + delights. Speech not having been invented, Eve was an attractive companion + to a man burdened as I was with responsibilities, and until our children + were born we went our way in happiness and silence. It is not in the + nature of things, however, that children should not wish to talk, and it + was through the irrepressible efforts of Cain and Abel to be heard as well + as seen that first called the attention of Eve and myself to the + desirability of expressing our thoughts in words rather than by masonic + signs. + </p> + <p> + I shall not burden my readers with further recollections of this period. + It was excessively primitive, of necessity, but before leaving it I must + ask the reader to put one or two questions to himself in this matter. + </p> + <p> + 1st. How is it that this bearded patriarch, who now poses as the only + original Adam, has never been able, with any degree of positiveness, to + answer the question as to whether or not he was provided with a caudal + appendage—a question which I am prepared to answer definitely, at + any moment, if called upon by the proper authorities, and, if need be, to + produce not only the tail itself, but the fierce and untamed pterodactyl + that bit it off upon that unfortunate autumn afternoon when he and I had + our first and last conflict. + </p> + <p> + 2d. Why is it that when describing a period concerning which he is + supposed to know all, he seems to have given voice to sentiments in + phrases which would have delighted Sheridan and shed added glory upon the + eloquence of Webster, AT A TIME WHEN, AS I HAVE ALREADY SHOWN, THERE WAS + NO SUCH THING AS SPEECH? + </p> + <p> + Upon these two points alone I rest my case against Adam: the first is the + reticence of guilt—he doesn't know, and he knows he doesn't know; + the second is a deliberate and offensive prevarication, which shows again + that he doesn't know, and assumes that we are all equally ignorant. + </p> + <p> + So much for Adam. Now for the cheap and year-ridden person who has taken + unto himself my second personality, Noah; and that other strange + combination of woe and wickedness, Jonah, who has chosen to pre-empt my + third. I shall deal with both at one and the same time, for, taken + separately, they are not worthy of notice. + </p> + <p> + Noah asserts that I know nothing of yachting. I will accept the charge + with the qualification that I know a great sight more about Arking than he + does; and as for Jonah, I can give Jonah points on whaling, and I hereby + challenge them both to a Memoir Match for $2000 a side, in gold, to see + which can give to the world the most interesting reminiscences concerning + the cruises of the two craft in question, the Ark and the Whale, upon + neither of which did either of these two anachronisms ever set foot, and + of both of which I, in my two respective existences, was + commander-in-chief. The fact is that, as in the case of the fictitious + Adam, these two impersonators are frauds. The man now masquerading as Noah + was my hired man in the latter part of the antediluvian period; was + discharged three years before the flood; was left on shore at the hour of + departure, and when last seen by me was sitting on the top of an + apple-tree, begging to do two men's work for nothing if we'd only let him + out of the wet. If he will at any time submit to a cross-examination at my + hands as to the principal events of that memorable voyage, I will show to + any fair-minded judge how impossible is his claim that he was in command, + or even afloat, after the first week. I have hitherto kept silent in this + matter, in spite of many and repeated outrageous flings, for the sake of + his—or rather my—family, who have been deceived, as have all + the rest of us, barring, of course, myself. References to portraits of + leading citizens of that period will easily show how this can be. We were + all alike as two peas in the olden days, and at a time when men reached to + an advanced age which is not known now, it frequently became almost + impossible to distinguish one old man from another. I will say, finally, + in regard to this person Noah that if he can give to the public a + statement telling the essential differences between a pterodactyl and a + double spondee that will not prove utterly absurd to an educated person, I + will withdraw my accusation and resign from the club. BUT I KNOW WELL HE + CANNOT DO IT, and he does too, and that is about the extent of his + knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Now as to Jonah. I really dislike very much to tread upon this worthy's + toes, and I should not do it had he not chosen to clap an injunction upon + a volume of Tales of the Whales, which I wrote for children last summer, + claiming that I was infringing upon his copyright, and feeling that I as a + self-respecting man would never claim the discredit of having myself been + the person he claims to have been. I will candidly confess that I am not + proud of my achievements as Jonah. I was a very oily person even before I + embarked upon the seas as Lord High Admiral of H.M.S. Leviathan. I was not + a pleasant person to know. If I spent the night with a friend, his roof + would fall in or his house would burn down. If I bet on a horse, he would + lead up to the home-stretch and fall down dead an inch from the finish. If + I went into a stock speculation, I was invariably caught on a rising or a + falling market. In my youth I spoiled every yachting-party I went on by + attracting a gale. When I came out the moon went behind a cloud, and + people who began by endorsing my paper ended up in the poor-house. + Commerce wouldn't have me. Boards of Trade everywhere repudiated me, and I + gradually sank into that state of despair which finds no solace anywhere + but on the sea or in politics, and as politics was then unknown I went to + sea. The result is known to the world. I was cast overboard, ingulfed by a + whale, which, in his defence let me be generous enough to say, swallowed + me inadvertently and with the usual result. I came back, and life went on. + Finally I came here, and when it got to the ears of the authorities that I + was in Hades, they sent me back for the fourth time to earth in the person + of William Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + That is the whole of the Jonah story. It is a sad story, and I regret it; + and I am sorry for the impostor when I reflect that the character he has + assumed possesses attractions for him. His real life must have been a + fearful thing if he is happy in his impersonation, and for his punishment + let us leave him where he is. Having told the truth, I have done my duty. + I cheerfully resign my claim to the personality he claims—I + relinquish from this time on all right, title, and interest in the name; + but if he ever dares to interfere with me again in the use of my personal + recollections concerning the inside of whales I shall hale him before the + authorities. + </p> + <p> + And now, finally, I come to Shakespeare, whom I have kept for the last, + not because he was the last chronologically, but because I like to work up + to a climax. + </p> + <p> + Previous to my existence as Baron Munchausen I lived for a term of years + on earth as William Shakespeare, and what I have to say now is more in the + line of confession than otherwise. + </p> + <p> + In my boyhood I was wild and I poached. If I were not afraid of having it + set down as a joke, I should say that I poached everything from eggs to + deer. I was not a great joy to my parents. There was no deviltry in + Stratford in which I did not take a leading part, and finally, for the + good of Warwickshire, I was sent to London, where a person of my talents + was more likely to find congenial and appreciative surroundings. A glance + at such of my autographs as are now extant will demonstrate the fact that + I never learned to write; a glance at the first folios of the plays + attributed to me will likewise show that I never learned to spell; and yet + I walked into London with one of the most exquisite poems in the English + language in my pocket. I am still filled with merriment over it. How was + it, the critics of the years since have asked—how was it that this + untutored little savage from leafy Warwickshire, with no training and + little education, came into London with “Venus and Adonis” in manuscript + in his pocket? It is quite evident that the critic fraternity have no + Sherlock Holmes in their midst. It would not take much of an eye, a true + detective's eye, to see the milk in that cocoanut, for it is but a simple + tale after all. The way of it was this: On my way from Stratford to London + I walked through Coventry, and I remained in Coventry overnight. I was + ill-clad and hungry, and, having no money with which to pay for my supper, + I went to the Royal Arms Hotel and offered my services as porter for the + night, having noted that a rich cavalcade from London, en route to + Kenilworth, had arrived unexpectedly at the Royal Arms. Taken by surprise, + and, therefore, unprepared to accommodate so many guests, the landlord was + glad to avail himself of my services, and I was assigned to the position + of boots. Among others whom I served was Walter Raleigh, who, noting my + ragged condition and hearing what a roisterer and roustabout I had been, + immediately took pity upon me, and gave me a plum-colored court-suit with + which he was through, and which I accepted, put upon my back, and next day + wore off to London. It was in the pocket of this that I found the poem of + “Venus and Adonis.” That poem, to keep myself from starving, I published + when I reached London, sending a complimentary copy of course to my + benefactor. When Raleigh saw it he was naturally surprised but gratified, + and on his return to London he sought me out, and suggested the + publication of his sonnets. I was the first man he'd met, he said, who was + willing to publish his stuff on his own responsibility. I immediately put + out some of the sonnets, and in time was making a comfortable living, + publishing the anonymous works of most of the young bucks about town, who + paid well for my imprint. That the public chose to think the works were + mine was none of my fault. I never claimed them, and the line on the + title-page, “By William Shakespeare,” had reference to the publisher only, + and not, as many have chosen to believe, to the author. Thus were + published Lord Bacon's “Hamlet,” Raleigh's poems, several plays of Messrs. + Beaumont and Fletcher—who were themselves among the cleverest + adapters of the times—and the rest of that glorious monument to + human credulity and memorial to an impossible, wholly apocryphal genius, + known as the works of William Shakespeare. The extent of my writing during + this incarnation was ten autographs for collectors, and one attempt at a + comic opera called “A Midsummer's Nightmare,” which was never produced, + because no one would write the music for it, and which was ultimately + destroyed with three of my quatrains and all of Bacon's evidence against + my authorship of “Hamlet,” in the fire at the Globe Theatre in the year + 1613. + </p> + <p> + These, then, dear reader, are the revelations which I have to make. In my + next incarnation I was the man I am now known to be, Baron Munchausen. As + I have said, I make the exposure with regret, but the arrogance of these + impudent impersonators of my various personalities has grown too great to + be longer borne. I lay the simple story of their villany before you for + what it is worth. I have done my duty. If after this exposure the public + of Hades choose to receive them in their homes and at their clubs, and as + guests at their functions, they will do it with a full knowledge of their + duplicity. + </p> + <p> + In conclusion, fearing lest there be some doubters among the readers of + this paper, I have allowed my friend, the editor of this esteemed journal, + which is to publish this story exclusively on Sunday next, free access to + my archives, and he has selected as exhibits of evidence, to which I + earnestly call your attention, the originals of the cuts which illustrate + this chapter—viz: + </p> + <p> + I. A full-length portrait of Eve as she appeared at our first meeting. + </p> + <p> + II. Portraits of Cain and Abel at the ages of two, five, and seven. + </p> + <p> + III. The original plans and specifications of the Ark. + </p> + <p> + IV. Facsimile of her commission. + </p> + <p> + V. Portrait-sketch of myself and the false Noah, made at the time, and + showing how difficult it would have been for any member of my family, save + myself, to tell us apart. + </p> + <p> + VI. A cathode-ray photograph of the whale, showing myself, the original + Jonah, seated inside. + </p> + <p> + VII. Facsimiles of the Shakespeare autographs, proving that he knew + neither how to write nor to spell, and so of course proving effectually + that I was not the author of his works. + </p> + <p> + It must be confessed that I read this article of Munchausen's with + amazement, and I awaited with much excited curiosity the coming again of + the manipulator of my type-writing machine. Surely a revelation of this + nature should create a sensation in Hades, and I was anxious to learn how + it was received. Boswell did not materialize, however, and for five nights + I fairly raged with the fever of curiosity, but on the sixth night the + familiar tinkle of the bell announced an arrival, and I flew to the + machine and breathlessly cried: + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, old chap, how did it come out?” + </p> + <p> + The reply was as great a surprise as I have yet had, for it was not + Boswell, Jim Boswell, who answered my question. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. A CHAT WITH XANTHIPPE + </h2> + <p> + The machine stopped its clicking the moment I spoke, and the words, + “Hullo, old chap!” were no sooner uttered than my face grew red as a + carnation pink. I felt as if I had committed some dreadful faux-pas, and + instead of gazing steadfastly into the vacant chair, as I had been wont to + do in my conversation with Boswell, my eyes fell, as though the invisible + occupant of the chair were regarding me with a look of indignant scorn. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I should think you might,” returned the types. “Hullo, old chap! is no + way to address a woman you've never had the honor of meeting, even if she + is of the most advanced sort. No amount of newness in a woman gives a man + the right to be disrespectful to her.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know,” I explained. “Really, miss, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” interrupted the machine, “not miss. I am a married woman, sir, + which makes of your rudeness an even more reprehensible act. It is well + enough to affect a good-fellowship with young unmarried females, but when + you attempt to be flippant with a married woman—” + </p> + <p> + “But I didn't know, I tell you,” I appealed. “How should I? I supposed it + was Boswell I was talking to, and he and I have become very good friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said the machine. “You're a chum of Boswell's, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not exactly a chum, but—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “But you go with him?” interrupted the lady. + </p> + <p> + “To an extent, yes,” I confessed. + </p> + <p> + “And does he GO with you?” was the query. “If he does, permit me to depart + at once. I should not feel quite in my element in a house where the editor + of a Sunday newspaper was an attractive guest. If you like that sort of + thing, your tastes—” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, madame,” I replied, quickly. “I prefer the opium habit to the + Sunday-newspaper habit, and if I thought Boswell was merely a purveyor of + what is known as Sunday literature, which depends on the goodness of the + day to offset its shortcomings, I should forbid him the house.” + </p> + <p> + A distinct sigh of relief emanated from the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Then I may remain,” was the remark rapidly clicked off on the machine. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said I. “And may I ask whom I have the honor of addressing?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” was the immediate response. “My name is Socrates, nee + Xanthippe.” + </p> + <p> + I instinctively cowered. Candidly, I was afraid. Never in my life before + had I met a woman whom I feared. Never in my life have I wavered in the + presence of the sex which cheers, but I have always felt that while I + could hold my own with Elizabeth, withstand the wiles of Cleopatra, and + manage the recalcitrant Katherine even as did Petruchio, Xanthippe was + another story altogether, and I wished I had gone to the club. My first + impulse was to call up-stairs to my wife and have her come down. She knows + how to handle the new woman far better than I do. She has never wanted to + vote, and my collars are safe in her hands. She has frequently observed + that while she had many things to be thankful for, her greatest blessing + was that she was born a woman and not a man, and the new women of her + native town never leave her presence without wondering in their own minds + whether or not they are mere humorous contributions of the Almighty to a + too serious world. I pulled myself together as best I could, and feeling + that my better-half would perhaps decline the proffered invitation to meet + with one of the most illustrious of her sex, I decided to fight my own + battle. So I merely said: + </p> + <p> + “Really? How delightful! I have always felt that I should like to meet + you, and here is one of my devoutest wishes gratified.” + </p> + <p> + I felt cheap after the remark, for Mrs. Socrates, nee Xanthippe, covered + five sheets of paper with laughter, with an occasional bracketing of the + word “derisively,” such as we find in the daily newspapers interspersed + throughout the after-dinner speeches of a candidate of another party. + Finally, to my relief, the oft-repeated “Ha-ha-ha!” ceased, and the line, + “I never should have guessed it,” closed her immediate contribution to our + interchange of ideas. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask why you laugh?” I observed, when she had at length finished. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” she replied. “Far be it from me to dispute the right of a man + to ask any question he sees fit to ask. Is he not the lord of creation? Is + not woman his abject slave? I not the whole difference between them purely + economic? Is it not the law of supply and demand that rules them both, he + by nature demanding and she supplying?” + </p> + <p> + Dear reader, did you ever encounter a machine, man-made, merely a + mechanism of ivory, iron, and ink, that could sniff contemptuously? I + never did before this encounter, but the infernal power of either this + type-writer or this woman who manipulated its keys imparted to the + atmosphere I was breathing a sniffing contemptuousness which I have never + experienced anywhere outside of a London hotel, and then only when I + ventured, as few Americans have dared, to complain of the ducal personage + who presided over the dining-room, but who, I must confess, was conquered + subsequently by a tip of ten shillings. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, there was a sniff of contempt imparted, as I have said, to + the atmosphere I was breathing as Xanthippe answered my question, and the + sniff saved me, just as it did in the London hotel, when I complained of + the lordly lack of manners on the part of the head waiter. I asserted my + independence. + </p> + <p> + “Don't trouble yourself,” I put in. “Of course I shall be interested in + anything you may choose to say, but as a gentleman I do not care to put a + woman to any inconvenience and I do not press the question.” + </p> + <p> + And then I tried to crush her by adding, “What a lovely day we have had,” + as if any subject other than the most commonplace was not demanded by the + situation. + </p> + <p> + “If you contemplate discussing the weather,” was the retort, “I wish you + would kindly seek out some one else with whom to do it. I am not one of + your latter-day sit-out-on-the-stairs-while-the-others-dance girls. I am, + as I have always been, an ardent admirer of principles, of great problems. + For small talk I have no use.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, madame—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “You asked me a moment ago why I laughed,” clicked the machine. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” said I. “But I withdraw the question. There is no great + principle involved in a woman's laughter. I have known women who have + laughed at a broken heart, as well as at jokes, which shows that there is + no principle involved there; and as a problem, I have never cared enough + about why women laugh to inquire deeply into it. If she'll just consent to + laugh, I'm satisfied without inquiring into the causes thereof. Let us get + down to an agreeable basis for yourself. What problem do you wish to + discuss? Servants, baby-food, floor-polish, or the number of godets proper + to the skirt of a well-dressed woman?” + </p> + <p> + I was regaining confidence in myself, and as I talked I ceased to fear + her. Thought I to myself, “This attitude of supreme patronage is man's + safest weapon against a woman. Keep cool, assume that there is no doubt of + your superiority, and that she knows it. Appear to patronize her, and her + own indignation will defeat her ends.” It is a good principle generally. + Among mortal women I have never known it to fail, and when I find myself + worsted in an argument with one of man's greatest blessings, I always fall + back upon it and am saved the ignominy of defeat. But this time I counted + without my antagonist. + </p> + <p> + “Will you repeat that list of problems?” she asked, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Servants, baby-food, floor-polish, and godets,” I repeated, somewhat + sheepishly, she took it so coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Xanthippe, with a note of amusement in her manipulation + of the keys. “If those are your subjects, let us discuss them. I am + surprised to find an able-bodied man like yourself bothering with such + problems, but I'll help you out of your difficulties if I can. No needy + man shall ever say that I ignored his cry for help. What do you want to + know about baby-food?” + </p> + <p> + This turning of the tables nonplussed me, and I didn't really know what to + say, and so wisely said nothing, and the machine grew sharp in its + clicking. + </p> + <p> + “You men!” it cried. “You don't know how fearfully shallow you are. I can + see through you in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, modestly, “I suppose you can.” Then calling my feeble wit + to my rescue, I added, “It's only natural, since I've made a spectacle of + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Not you!” cried Xanthippe. “You haven't even made a monocle of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + And here we both laughed, and the ice was broken. + </p> + <p> + “What has become of Boswell?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He's been sent to the ovens for ten days for libelling Shakespeare and + Adam and Noah and old Jonah,” replied Xanthippe. “He printed an article + alleged to have been written by Baron Munchausen, in which those four + gentlemen were held up to ridicule and libelled grossly.” + </p> + <p> + “And Munchausen?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the Baron got out of it by confessing that he wrote the article,” + replied the lady. “And as he swore to his confession the jury were + convinced he was telling another one of his lies and acquitted him, so + Boswell was sent up alone. That's why I am here. There isn't a man in all + Hades that dared take charge of Boswell's paper—they're all so + deadly afraid of the government, so I stepped in, and while Boswell is + baking I'm attending to his editorial duties.” + </p> + <p> + “But you spoke contemptuously of the Sunday newspapers awhile ago, Mrs. + Socrates,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said Xanthippe, “but I've fixed that. I get out the Sunday + edition on Saturdays.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—I see. And you like it?” I queried. + </p> + <p> + “First rate,” she replied. “I'm in love with the work. I almost wish poor + old Bos had been sentenced for ten years. I have enough of the woman in me + to love minding other people's business, and, as far as I can find out, + that's about all journalism amounts to. Sewing societies aren't to be + mentioned in the same day with a newspaper for scandal and gossip, and, + besides, I'm an ardent advocate of men's rights—have been for + centuries—and I've got my first chance now to promulgate a few of my + ideas. I'm really a man in all my views of life—that's the + inevitable end of an advanced woman who persists in following her + 'newness' to its logical conclusion. Her habits of thought gradually come + to be those of a man. Even I have a great deal more sympathy with Socrates + than I used to have. I used to think I was the one that should be + emancipated, but I'm really reaching that stage in my manhood where I + begin to believe that he needs emancipation.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you admit, do you,” I cried, with great glee, “that this new-woman + business is all Tommy-rot?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by a great deal,” snapped the machine. “Far from it. It's the + salvation of the happy life. It is perfectly logical to say that the more + manny a woman becomes, the more she is likely to sympathize with the + troubles and trials which beset men.” + </p> + <p> + I scratched my head and pulled the lobe of my ear in the hope of loosening + an argument to confront her with, not that I disagreed with her entirely, + but because I instinctively desired to oppose her as pleasantly + disagreeably as I could. But the result was nil. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you are right,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “You're a truthful man,” clicked the machine, laughingly. “You are afraid + I'm right. And why are you afraid? Because you are one of those men who + take a cynical view of woman. You want woman to be a mere lump of sugar, + content to be left in a bowl until it pleases you in your + high-and-mightiness to take her in the tongs and drop her into the coffee + of your existence, to sweeten what would otherwise not please your taste—and + like most men you prefer two or three lumps to one.” + </p> + <p> + I could only cough. The lady was more or less right. I am very fond of + sugar, though one lump is my allowance, and I never exceed it, whatever + the temptation. Xanthippe continued. + </p> + <p> + “You criticise her because she doesn't understand you and your needs, + forgetting that out of twenty-four hours of your daily existence your wife + enjoys personally about twelve hours of your society, during eight of + which you are lying flat on your back, snoring as though your life + depended on it; but when she asks to be allowed to share your + responsibilities as well as what, in her poor little soul, she thinks are + your joys, you flare up and call her 'new' and 'advanced,' as if + advancement were a crime. You ride off on your wheel for forty miles on + your days of rest, and she is glad to have you do it, but when she wants a + bicycle to ride, you think it's all wrong, immoral, and conducive to a + weak heart. Bah!” + </p> + <p> + “I—ah—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “Yes you do,” she interrupted. “You ah and you hem and you haw, but in the + end you're a poor miserable social mugwump, conscious of your own + magnificence and virtue, but nobody else ever can attain to your lofty + plane. Now what I want to see among women is more good fellows. Suppose + you regarded your wife as good a fellow as you think your friend Jones. Do + you think you'd be running off to the club every night to play billiards + with Jones, leaving your wife to enjoy her own society?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” I replied, “but that's just the point. My wife isn't a good + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, and for that reason you seek out Jones. You have a right to the + companionship of the good fellow—that's what I'm going to advocate. + I've advanced far enough to see that on the average in the present state + of woman she is not a suitable companion for man—she has none of the + qualities of a chum to which he is entitled. I'm not so blind but that I + can see the faults of my own sex, particularly now that I have become so + very masculine myself. Both sexes should have their rights, and that is + the great policy I'm going to hammer at as long as I have Boswell's paper + in charge. I wish you might see my editorial page for to-morrow; it is + simply fine. I urge upon woman the necessity of joining in with her + husband in all his pleasures whether she enjoys them or not. When he + lights a cigar, let her do the same; when he calls for a cocktail, let her + call for another. In time she will begin to understand him. He understands + her pleasures, and often he joins in with them—opera, dances, + lectures; she ought to do the same, and join in with him in his pleasures, + and after a while they'll get upon a common basis, have their clubs + together, and when that happy time comes, when either one goes out the + other will also go, and their companionship will be perfect.” + </p> + <p> + “But you objected to my calling you old chap when we first met,” said I. + “Is that quite consistent?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” retorted the lady. “We had never met before, and, besides, + doctors do not always take their own medicine.” + </p> + <p> + “But that women ought to become good fellows is what you're going to + advocate, eh?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Xanthippe. “It's excellent, don't you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Superb,” I answered, “for Hades. It's just my idea of how things ought to + be in Hades. I think, however, that we mortals will stick to the old plan + for a little while yet; most of us prefer to marry wives rather than old + chaps.” + </p> + <p> + The remark seemed so to affect my visitor that I suddenly became conscious + of a sense of loneliness. + </p> + <p> + “I don't wish to offend you,” I said, “but I rather like to keep the two + separate. Aren't you man enough yet to see the value of variety?” + </p> + <p> + But there was no answer. The lady had gone. It was evident that she + considered me unworthy of further attention. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. THE EDITING OF XANTHIPPE + </h2> + <p> + After my interview with Xanthippe, I hesitated to approach the type-writer + for a week or two. It did a great deal of clicking after the midnight hour + had struck, and I was consumed with curiosity to know what was going on, + but I did not wish to meet Mrs. Socrates again, so I held aloof until + Boswell should have served his sentence. I was no longer afraid of the + woman, but I do fear the good fellow of the weaker sex, and I deemed it + just as well to keep out of any and all disputes that might arise from a + casual conversation with a creature of that sort. An agreement with a real + good fellow, even when it ends in a row, is more or less diverting; but a + disputation with a female good fellow places a man at a disadvantage. The + argumentum ad hominem is not an easy thing with men, but with women it is + impossible. Hence, I let the type-writer click and ring for a fortnight. + </p> + <p> + Finally, to my relief, I recognized Boswell's touch upon the keys and + sauntered up to the side of the machine. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Boswell—Jim Boswell?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “All that's left of him,” was the answer. “How have you been?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said I. And then it seemed to me that tact required that I + should not seem to know that he had been in the superheated jail of the + Stygian country. So I observed, “You've been off on a vacation, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” was the immediate response. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I put in, “you've been absent for a fortnight, and you look more + or less—ah—burned.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am,” replied the deceitful editor. “Very much burned, in fact. + I've been—er—I've been playing golf with a friend down in + Cimmeria.” + </p> + <p> + “I envy you,” I observed, with an inward chuckle. + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't if you knew the links,” replied Boswell, sadly. “They're + awfully hard. I don't know any harder course than the Cimmerian.” + </p> + <p> + And then I became conscious of a mistrustful gaze fastened upon me. + </p> + <p> + “See here,” clicked the machine. “I thought I was invisible to you? If so, + how do you know I look burned?” + </p> + <p> + I was cornered, and there was only one way out of it, and that was by + telling the truth. “Well, you are invisible, old chap,” I said. “The fact + is, I've been told of your trouble, and I know what you have undergone.” + </p> + <p> + “And who told you?” queried Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Your successor on the Gazette, Madame Socrates, nee Xanthippe,” I + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that woman—that woman!” moaned Boswell, through the medium of + the keys. “Has she been here, using this machine too? Why didn't you stop + her before she ruined me completely?” + </p> + <p> + “Ruined you?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Well, next thing to it,” replied Boswell. “She's run my paper so far into + the ground that it will take an almighty powerful grip to pull it out + again. Why, my dear boy, when I went to—to the ovens, I had a + circulation of a million, and when I came back that woman had brought it + down to eight copies, seven of which have already been returned. All in + ten days, too.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you account for it?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “'Side Talks with Men' helped, and 'The Man's Corner' did a little, but + the editorial page did the most of it. It was given over wholly to the + advancement of certain Xanthippian ideas, which were very offensive to my + women readers, and which found no favor among the men. She wants to change + the whole social structure. She thinks men and women are the same kind of + animal, and that both need to be educated on precisely the same lines—the + girls to be taught business, the boys to go through a course of domestic + training. She called for subscriptions for a cooking-school for boys, and + demanded the endowment of a commercial college for girls, and wound up by + insisting upon a uniform dress for both sexes. I tell you, if you'd worked + for years to establish a dignified newspaper the way I have, it would have + broken your heart to see the suggested fashion-plates that woman printed. + The uniform dress was a holy terror. It was a combination of all the worst + features of modern garb. Trousers were to be universal and compulsory; + sensible masculine coats were discarded entirely, and puffed-sleeved + dress-coats were substituted. Stiff collars were abolished in favor of + ribbons, and rosettes cropped up everywhere. Imagine it if you can—and + everybody in all Hades was to be forced into garments of that sort!” + </p> + <p> + “I should enjoy seeing it,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly—but you wouldn't enjoy wearing it,” retorted the machine. + “And then that woman's funny column—it was frightful. You never saw + such jokes in your life; every one of them contained a covert attack upon + man. There was only one good thing in it, and that was a bit of verse + called 'Fair Play for the Little Girls.' It went like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'If little boys, when they are young, + Can go about in skirts, + And wear upon their little backs + Small broidered girlish shirts, + Pray why cannot the little girls, + When infants, have a chance + To toddle on their little ways + In little pairs of pants?'” + </pre> + <p> + “That isn't at all bad,” said I, smiling in spite of poor Boswell's woe. + “If the rest of the paper was on a par with that I don't see why the + circulation fell off.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she took liberties, that's all,” said Boswell. “For instance, in + her 'Side Talks with Men' she had something like this: 'Napoleon—It + is rather difficult to say just what you can do with your last season's + cocked-hat. If you were to purchase five yards of one-inch blue ribbon, + cut it into three strips of equal length, and fasten one end to each of + the three corners of the hat, tying the other ends into a choux, it would + make a very acceptable work-basket to send to your grandmother at + Christmas.' Now Napoleon never asked that woman for advice on the subject. + Then there was an answer to a purely fictitious inquiry from Solomon which + read: 'It all depends on local custom. In Salt Lake City, and in London at + the time of Henry the Eighth, it was not considered necessary to be off + with the old love before being on with the new, but latterly the growth of + monopolistic ideas tends towards the uniform rate of one at a time.' A + purely gratuitous fling, that was, at one of my most eminent patrons, or + rather two of them, for latterly both Solomon and Henry the Eighth have + yielded to the tendency of the times and gone into business, which they + have paid me well to advertise. Solomon has established an 'Information + Bureau,' where advice can always be had from the 'Wise-man,' as he calls + himself, on payment of a small fee; while Henry, taking advantage of his + superior equipment over any English king that ever lived, has founded and + liberally advertised his 'Chaperon Company (Limited).' It's a great thing + even in Hades for young people to be chaperoned by an English queen, and + Henry has been smart enough to see it, and having seven or eight queens, + all in good standing, he has been doing a great business. Just look at it + from a business point of view. There are seven nights in every week, and + something going on somewhere all the time, and queens in demand. With a + queen quoted so low as $100 a night, Henry can make nearly $5000 a week, + or $260,000 a year, out of evening chaperonage alone; and when, in + addition to this, yachting-parties up the Styx and slumming-parties + throughout the country are being constantly given, the man's opportunity + to make half a million a year is in plain sight. I'm told that he netted + over $500,000 last year; and of course he had to advertise to get it, and + this Xanthippe woman goes out of her way to get in a nasty little fling at + one of my mainstays for his matrimonial propensities.” + </p> + <p> + “Failing utterly to see,” said I, “that, in marrying so many times, Henry + really paid a compliment to her sex which is without parallel in royal + circles.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, nearly so,” said Boswell. “There have been other kings who were + quite as complimentary to the ladies, but Henry was the only man among + them who insisted on marrying them all.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said I. “Henry was eminently proper—but then he had to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Boswell, with a meditative tap on the letter Y. “Yes—he + had to be. He was the head of the Church, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” I put in. “I've always had a great deal of sympathy for + Henry. He has been very much misjudged by posterity. He was the father of + the really first new woman, Elizabeth, and his other daughter, Mary, was + such a vindictive person.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a very fair man, for an American,” said Boswell. “Not only fair, + but rare. You think about things.” + </p> + <p> + “I try to,” said I, modestly. “And I've really thought a great deal about + Henry, and I've truly seen a valid reason for his continuous matrimonial + performances. He set himself up against the Pope, and he had to be + consistent in his antagonism.” + </p> + <p> + “He did, indeed,” said Boswell. “A religious discussion is a hard one.” + </p> + <p> + “And Henry was consistent in his opposition,” said I. “He didn't yield a + jot on any point, and while a great many people criticise him on the score + of his wives—particularly on their number—I feel that I have + in very truth discovered his principle.” + </p> + <p> + “Which was?” queried Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “That the Pope was wrong in all things,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “So he said,” commented Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “And being wrong in all things, celibacy was wrong,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” ejaculated Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said I, “if celibacy is wrong, the surest way to protest + against it is to marry as many times as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” said Boswell, tapping the keys yearningly, as though he wished + he might spare his hand to shake mine, “you are a man after my own heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, old chap,” said I, reaching out my hand and shaking it in the air + with my visionary friend—“thanks. I've studied these things with + some care, and I've tried to find a reason for everything in life as I + know it. I have always regarded Henry as a moral man—as is natural, + since in spite of all you can say he is the real head of the English + Church. He wasn't willing to be married a second or a seventh time unless + he was really a widower. He wasn't as long in taking notice again as some + modern widowers that I have met, but I do not criticise him on that score. + I merely attribute his record to his kingly nature, which involves + necessarily a quickness of decision and a decided perception of the + necessities which is sadly lacking in people who are born to a lesser + station in life. England demanded a queen, and he invariably met the + demand, which shows that he knew something of political economy as well as + of matrimony; and as I see it, being an American, a man needs to know + something of political economy to be a good ruler. So many of our + statesmen have acquired a merely kindergarten knowledge of the science, + that we have had many object-lessons of the disadvantages of a merely + elementary knowledge of the subject. To come right down to it, I am a + great admirer of Henry. At any rate, he had the courage of his + heart-convictions.” + </p> + <p> + “You really surprise me,” tapped Boswell. “I never expected to find an + American so thoroughly in sympathy with kings and their needs.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for that,” said I, “in America we are all kings and we are not + without our needs, matrimonial and otherwise, only our courts are not + quite so expeditious as Henry's little axe. But what was Henry's attitude + towards this extraordinary flight of Xanthippe's?” + </p> + <p> + “Wrath,” said Boswell. “He was very much enraged, and withdrew his + advertisements, declined to give our society reporters the usual accounts + of the functions his wives chaperoned, and, worst of all, has withdrawn + himself and induced others to withdraw from the symposium I was preparing + for my special Summer Girls' issue, which is to appear in August, on 'How + Men Propose.' He and Brigham Young and Solomon and Bonaparte had agreed to + dictate graphic accounts of how they had done it on various occasions, and + Queen Elizabeth, who probably had more proposals to the square minute that + any other woman on record, was to write the introduction. This little + plan, which was really the idea of genius, is entirely shattered by Mrs. + Socrates's infernal interference.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said I. “Don't despair. Why don't you come out with a plain + statement of the facts? Apologize.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, my dear sir,” interposed Boswell, “that one of the + fundamental principles of Hades as an institution is that excuses don't + count. It isn't a place for repentance so much as for expiation, and I + might apologize nine times a minute for forty years and would still have + to suffer the penalty of the offence. No, there is nothing to be done but + to begin my newspaper work again, build up again the institution that + Xanthippe has destroyed, and bear my misfortunes like a true spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “Spoken like a philosopher!” I cried. “And if I can help you, my dear + Boswell, count upon me. In anything you may do, whether you start a + monthly magazine, a sporting weekly, or a purely American Sunday + newspaper, you are welcome to anything I can do for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” returned Boswell, appreciatively, “and if I need your + services I shall be glad to avail myself of them. Just at present, + however, my plans are so fully prepared that I do not think I shall have + to call upon you. With Sherlock Holmes engaged to write twelve new + detective stories; Poe to look after my tales of horror; D'Artagnan + dictating his personal memoirs; Lucretia Borgia running my Girls' + Department; and others too numerous to mention, I have a sufficient supply + of stuff to fill up; but if you feel like writing a few poems for me I may + be able to use them as fillers, and they may help to make your name so + well known in Hades that next year I shall be able to print a Worldly + Letter from you every week with a good chance of its proving popular.” + </p> + <p> + And with this promise Boswell left me to get out the first number of The + Cimmerian: a Sunday Magazine for all. Taking him at his word, I sent him + the following poem a few days later: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LOCALITY + + Whither do we drift, + Insensate souls, whose every breath + Foretells the doom of nothingness? + Yet onward, upward let it be + Through all the myriad circles + Of the ensuing years— + And then, pray what? + Alas! 'tis all, and never shall be stated. + Atoms, yet atomless we drift, + But whitherward? +</pre> + <p> + I had intended this for one of our leading magazines, but it seemed so to + lack the mystical quality, which is essential to a successful magazine + poem in our sphere, that I deemed it best to try it on Boswell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. THE BOSWELL TOURS: PERSONALLY CONDUCTED + </h2> + <p> + It was and will no doubt be considered, even by those who are not too + friendly towards myself, a daring idea, and it was all my own. One night, + several weeks after the interview with Boswell just narrated, the idea + came to me simultaneously with the first tapping of the keys for the + evening upon the Enchanted Type-Writer. It was Boswell's touch that + summoned me from my divan. My family were on the eve of departure for a + month's rest from care and play in the mountains, and I was looking + forward to a period of very great loneliness. But as Boswell materialized + and began his work upon the machine, the great idea flashed across my + mind, and I resolved to “play it” for all it was worth. + </p> + <p> + “Jim,” said I, as I approached the vacant chair in which he sat—for + by this time the great biographer and I had got upon terms of familiarity—“Jim,” + said I, “I've got a very gloomy prospect ahead of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why not?” he tapped off. “Where do you expect to have your gloomy + prospects? They can't very well be behind you.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said I. “You are facetious this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” he replied. “I have been spending the day with my old-time + boss, Samuel Johnson, and I am so saturated with purism that I hardly know + where I am. From the Johnsonian point of view you have expressed yourself + ill—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am ill,” I retorted. “I don't know how far you are acquainted + with home life, but I do know that there is no greater homesickness in the + world than that of the man who is sick of home.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not an imitator,” said Boswell, “but I must imitate you to the + extent of saying humph! I quote you, and, doing so, I honor you. But + really, I never thought you could be sick of home, as you put it—you + who are so happy at home and who so wildly hate being away from home.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not surprised at that, my dear Boswell,” said I. “But you are, of + course, familiar with the phrase 'Stone walls do not a prison make?'” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard it,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's another equally valid phrase which I have not yet heard + expressed by another, and it is this: 'Stone walls do not a home make.'” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't very musical, is it?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Not very,” I answered, “but we don't all live magazine lives, do we? We + have occasionally a sentiment, a feeling, out of which we do not try 'to + make copy.' It is undoubtedly a truth which I have not yet seen voiced by + any modern poet of my acquaintance, not even by the dead-baby poets, that + home is not always preferable to some other things. At any rate, it is my + feeling, and is shortly to represent my condition. My home, you know. It + has its walls and its pictures, and its thousand and one comforts, and its + associations, but when my wife and my children are away, and the four + walls do not re-echo the voices of the children, and my library lacks the + presence of madame, it ceases truly to be home, and if I've got to stay + here during the month of August alone I must have diversion, else I shall + find myself as badly off as the butterfly man, to whom a vaudeville + exhibition is the greatest joy in life.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are queer,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am not,” said I. “However low we may set the standard of man, Mr. + B.”—and I called him Mr. B. instead of Jim, because I wished to be + severe and yet retain the basis of familiarity—“however low we may + set the standard of man, I think man as a rule prefers his home to the + most seductive roof-garden life in existence.” + </p> + <p> + “Wherefore?” said he, coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Wherefore my home about to become unattractive through the absence of my + boys and their mother, I shall need some extraordinary diversion to + accomplish my happiness. Now if you can come here, why can't others? + Suppose to-night you dash off on the machine a lot of invitations to the + pleasantest people in Hades to come up here with you and have an evening + on earth, which isn't all bad.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a scheme and a half,” said Boswell, with more enthusiasm than I had + expected. “I'll do it, only instead of trying to get these people to make + a pilgrimage to your shrine, which I think they would decline to do—Shakespeare, + for instance, wouldn't give a tuppence to inspect your birthplace as you + have inspected his—I'll institute a series of 'Boswell's Personally + Conducted Pleasure Parties,' and make you my agent here. That, you see, + will naturally make your home our headquarters, and I think the scheme + would work a charm, because there are a great many well-known Stygians who + are curious to revisit the scenes of their earlier state, but who are + timid about coming on their own responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said I. “Immortals are but mortal after all, with all the + timidity and weaknesses of mortality. But I agree to the proposition, and + if you wish it I'll prepare to give them a rousing old time.” + </p> + <p> + “And be sure to show them something characteristic,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” I replied; “I may even get up a trolley-party for them.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what a trolley-party is, but it sounds well,” said Boswell, + “and I'll advertise the enterprise at once. 'Boswell's Personally + Conducted Pleasure Parties. First Series, No. 1. Trolleying Through + Hoboken. For the Round Trip, Four Dollars. Supper and All Expenses + Included. No Tips. Extra Lady's Ticket, One Dollar.'” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” I cried. “That can't be. These affairs will really have to be + stag-parties—with my wife away, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if we secure a suitable chaperon,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow!” said I, with great positiveness. “You don't suppose that in the + absence of my family I'm going to have my neighbors see me cavorting about + the country on a trolley-car full of queens and duchesses and other + females of all ages? Not a bit of it, my dear James. I'm not a strictly + conventional person, but there are some points between which I draw lines. + I've got to live on this earth for a little while yet, and until I leave + it I must be guided more or less in what I do by what the world approves + or disapproves.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Boswell answered. “I suppose you are right, but in the + autumn, when your family has returned—” + </p> + <p> + “We can discuss the matter again,” said I, resolved to put off the + question for as long a time as I could, for I candidly confess that I had + no wish to make myself responsible for the welfare of such Stygian ladies + as might avail themselves of the opportunity to go off on one of Boswell's + tours. “Show the value and beauties of your plan to the influential men of + Hades first, my dear Boswell,” I added, “and then if they choose they can + come again and bring their wives with them on their own responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy that is the best plan, but we ought to have some variety in these + tours,” he replied. “A trolley-party, however successful, would not make a + great season for an entertainment bureau, would it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” said I. “You are perfectly right about that. What you want + is one function a week during the summer season. Open with the + trolley-party as No. 1 of your first series. Follow this with 'An Evening + of Vaudeville: The Grand Tour of the Roof Gardens.' After that have a + 'Sunday at the Sea-side—Surf Bathing, Summer Girls and Sand.' That + would make a mighty attractive line for your advertisement.” + </p> + <p> + “Magnificent. I don't see why you don't give up poetry and magazine work + and get a position as poster-writer for a circus. You are only a mediocre + magazinist, but in the poster business you'd be a genius.” + </p> + <p> + This was tapped off with such manifest sincerity that I could not take + offence, so I thanked him and resumed. + </p> + <p> + “The grand finale of your first series might be 'A Tandem Scorch: A + Century Run on a Bicycle Built for Two Hundred!'” + </p> + <p> + “Magnificent!” cried Boswell, with such enthusiasm that I feared he would + smash the machine. “I'll devote a whole page of my Sunday issue to the + prospectus—but, to return to the woman question, we ought really to + have something to announce for them. Hades hath no fury like a woman + scorned, and I can't afford to scorn the sex. You needn't have anything to + do with them if you don't want to—only tell me something I can + announce, and I'll make Henry the Eighth solid again by putting that + branch of the enterprise in his wives' hands. In that way I'll kill two + birds with one stone.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all very well, Boswell, but I'm afraid I can't,” said I. “It's + hard enough to know how to please a mortal woman without attempting to get + up a series of picnics for the rather miscellaneous assortment of ladies + who form your social structure below. All men are alike, and man's + pleasures in all times have been generally the same, but every woman is + unique. I never knew two who were alike, and if it's all the same to you + I'd rather you left me out of your ladies' tours altogether. Of course I + know that even the Queen of Sheba would enjoy a visit to a Monday sale at + one of our big department stores, and I am quite as well aware that nine + out of ten women in Hades or out of it would enjoy the millinery + exhibition at the opera matinee—and if these two ideas impress you + at all you are welcome to them—but beyond this I have nothing to + suggest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm sure those two ideas are worth a great deal,” returned Boswell, + making a note of them; “I shall announce four trips to Monday sales—” + </p> + <p> + “Call 'em 'To Bargaindale and Back: The Great Marked-down Tour,' and be + sure you add, 'For Able-bodied Women Only. No Tickets Issued Except on + Recommendation of your Family Physician.' This is especially important, + for next to a war or a football match there's nothing that I know of that + is quite so dangerous to the participants as a bargain day.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bear what you say in mind,” quoth Boswell, and he made a note of my + injunction. “And immediately upon my return to Hades I will request an + audience with Henry's queens, and ask them to devise a number of other + tours likely to prove profitable and popular.” + </p> + <p> + Shortly after my visitor departed and I retired. The next day my family + deserted me and went to the mountains, and all my fears as to the + inordinate sense of loneliness which was to be my lot were realized. Even + Boswell neglected me apparently for a week. I went to my desk daily and + returned at night hoping that my type-writer would bring forth something + of an interesting nature, but naught other than disappointment awaited me. + For a whole blessed week I was thrown back upon the society of my + neighbors for diversion. The type-writer gave no sign of being. + </p> + <p> + Little did I guess that Boswell was busy working up my scheme in his + Stygian home! + </p> + <p> + But it came to pass finally that I was roused up. Walking one morning to + my desk to find a bit of memoranda I needed, I discovered a type-written + slip marked, “No time for small talk. Boswell's tours grand success. + Trolley-party to-night. Ten cars wanted. Jim.” + </p> + <p> + It was a large order for a town like mine, where forty thousand people + have to get along with five cars—two open ones for winter and two + closed for summer, and one, which we have never seen, which is kept for + use in the repair-shop. I was in despair. Ten car-loads of immortals + coming to my house for a trolley-party under such conditions! It was + frightful! I did the best I could, however. + </p> + <p> + I ordered one trolley-car to be ready at eight, and a large variety of + good things edible and drinkable, the latter to be held subject to the + demand-notes of our guests. + </p> + <p> + As may be imagined, I did little real work that day, and when I returned + home at night I was on tenter-hooks lest something should go wrong; but + fortunately Boswell himself came early and relieved me of my worry—in + fact, he was at the machine when I entered the house. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “have you the ten cars?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you take me for,” said I, “a trolley-car trust? Of course I + haven't. There are only five cars in town, one of which is kept in the + repair-shop for effect. I've hired one.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” he cried. “What will the kings do?” + </p> + <p> + “Kings!” I cried. “What kings?” + </p> + <p> + “I have nine kings and one car-load of common souls besides for this + affair,” he explained. “Each king wants a special car.” + </p> + <p> + “Kings be jiggered!” said I. “A trolley-party, my much beloved James, is + an essentially democratic institution, and private cars are not de + rigueur. If your kings choose to come, let 'em hang on by the straps.” + </p> + <p> + “But I've charged 'em extra!” cried Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” said I, “they receive extra. They have the ride plus + the straps, with the privilege of standing out on the platform and ringing + the gong if they want to. The great thing about the trolley-party is that + there's no private car business about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know,” Boswell murmured, reflectively. “If Charles the + First and Louis Fourteenth don't kick about being crowded in with all the + rest, I can stand anything that Frederick the Great or Nero might say; but + those two fellows are great sticklers for the royal prerogative.” + </p> + <p> + “There isn't any such thing as royal prerogative on a trolley-car,” I + retorted, “and if they don't like what they get they can sit down in the + waiting-room and wait until we get back.” + </p> + <p> + But Boswell's fears were not realized. Charles and Louis were perfectly + delighted with the trolley-party, and long before we reached home the + former had rung up the fare-register to its full capacity, while the + latter, a half-a-dozen times, delightedly occupied himself in mastering + the intricacies of the overhead wire. The trolley-party was an undoubted + success. The same remains to be said of the vaudeville expedition of the + following week. The same guests and potentates attended this, to the + number of twenty, and the Boswell tours were accounted a great enterprise, + and bade fair to redeem the losses of the eminent journalist incurred + during Xanthippe's administration of his affairs; but after the bicycle + night I had to withdraw from the combination to save my reputation. The + fact upon which I had not counted was that my neighbors began to think me + insane. I had failed to remember that none of these visiting spirits was + visible to us in this material world, and while my fellow-townsmen were + disposed to lay up my hiring of a special trolley-car for my own private + and particular use against the eccentricity of genius, they marvelled + greatly that I should purchase twenty of the best seats at a vaudeville + show seemingly for my own exclusive use. When, besides this, they saw me + start off apparently alone on one tandem bicycle, followed by twenty-eight + other empty wheels, which they could not know were manipulated by some of + the most famous legs in the history of the world, from Noah's down to + those of Henry Fielding the novelist, they began to regard me as something + uncanny. + </p> + <p> + Nor can I blame them. It seems to me that if I saw one man scorching along + a road alone on a tandem bicycle chatting to an empty front-seat, I should + think him queer, but if following in his wake I perceived twenty-eight + other wheels, scorching up hill and down dale without any visible motive + power, I should regard him as one who was in league with the devil + himself. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, I judge from what Boswell has told me that I am regarded in + Hades as a great benefactor of the people there, for having established a + series of excursions from that world into this, a service which has done + much to convince the Stygians that after all, if only by contrast, the + life below has its redeeming features. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. AN IMPORTANT DECISION + </h2> + <p> + For some time after the organization of the Pleasure Tours, the Enchanted + Type-Writer appeared to be deserted. Night after night I watched over it + with great care lest I should lose any item of interest that might come to + me from below, but, much to my sorrow, things in Hades appeared to be dull—so + dull that the machine was not called into requisition at all. I little + guessed what important matters were transpiring in that wonderful country. + Had I done so, I doubt I should have waited so patiently, although my only + method of getting there was suicide, for which diversion I have very + little liking. On the twenty-fourth night of waiting, however, the welcome + sound of the bell dragged me forth from my comfortable couch, whither, + expecting nothing, I had retired early. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to hear your pleasant tinkle again,” I said. “I've missed you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to get back,” returned Boswell, for it was he who was + manipulating the keys. “I've been so infernally busy, however, over the + court news, that I haven't had a minute to spare.” + </p> + <p> + “Court news, eh?” I said. “You are going to open up a society column, are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I,” he replied. “It's the other kind of a court. We've been having + some pretty hot litigation down in Hades since I was here last. The city + of Cimmeria has been suing the State of Hades for ten years back + dog-taxes.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Unpaid dog-taxes for ten years,” Boswell explained. “We have just as much + government below in our cities as you have, and I will say for Hades that + our cities are better run than yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that is due to the fact that when a man gets to Hades he + immediately becomes a reformer,” I suggested, with a wink at the machine, + which somehow or other did not seem to appreciate the joke. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” observed Boswell. “Whatever the reason, however, the fact + remains that Cimmeria is a well-governed city, and, what is more, it isn't + afraid to assert its rights even as against old Apollyon himself.” + </p> + <p> + “It's safe enough for a corporation,” said I. “Much safer for a + corporation which has no soul, than for an individual who has. You can't + torture a city—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, can't you!” laughed Boswell. “Humph. Apollyon can make it as hot for + a city as he can for an individual. It is evident that you never heard of + Sodom and Gomorrah—which is surprising to me, since your jokes about + Lot's wife being too fresh and getting salted down, would seem to indicate + that you had heard something about the punishment those cities underwent.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Bozzy,” I said. “I had forgotten. But tell me about the + dog-tax. Does the State own a dog?” + </p> + <p> + “Does it?” roared Boswell. “Why, my dear fellow, where were you brought up + and educated. Does the State own a dog!” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I asked you,” I put in, meekly. “I may be very ignorant, + unless you mean the kind that we have in our legislatures, called the + watch-dogs of the treasury, or, perhaps, the dogs of war. But I never + thought any city would be crazy enough to make the government take out a + license for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of a beast named Cerberus, I suppose?” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have,” I answered. “He guards the gates to the infernal regions.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—he's the bone of contention,” said Boswell. “You see, about + ten years ago the people of Cimmeria got rather tired of the condition of + their streets. They were badly paved. They were full of good intentions, + but the citizens thought they ought to have something more lasting, so + they voted to appropriate an enormous sum for asphalting. They didn't + realize how sloppy asphalt would become in that climate, but after the + asphalt was put down they found out, and a Beelzebub of a time of it they + had. Pegasus sprained his off hind leg by slipping on it, Bucephalus got + into it with all four feet and had to be lifted out with a derrick, and + every other fine horse we had was more or less injured, and the damage + suits against the city were enormous. To remedy this, the asphalting was + taken up and a Nicholson wood pavement was put down. This was worse than + the other. It used to catch fire every other night, and, finally, to + protect their houses, the people rose up en masse and ripped it all to + pieces. + </p> + <p> + “This necessitated a third new pavement, of Belgian blocks, to pay for + which the already overburdened city of Cimmeria had to issue bonds to an + enormous amount, all of which necessitated an increase of taxes. + Naturally, one of the first taxes to be imposed was a dog-tax, and it was + that which led to this lawsuit, which, I regret to say, the city has lost, + although Judge Blackstone's decision was eminently fair.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't the State pay?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—on Cerberus as one dog,” said Boswell. “The city claimed, + however, that Cerberus was more than that, and endeavored to collect on + three dogs—one license for each head. This the State declined to + pay, and out of this grew further complications of a distressing nature. + The city sent its dog-catchers up to abscond with the dog, intending to + cut off two of its heads, and return the balance as being as much of the + beast as the State was entitled to maintain on a single license. It was an + unfortunate move, for when Cerberus himself took the situation in, which + he did at a glance, he nabbed the dog-catcher by the coat-tails with one + pair of jaws, grabbed hold of his collar with another, and shook him as he + would a rat, meanwhile chewing up other portions of the unfortunate + official with his third set of teeth. The functionary was then carried + home on a stretcher, and subsequently sued the city for damages, which he + recovered. + </p> + <p> + “Another man was sent out to lure the ferocious beast to the pound with a + lasso, but it worked no better than the previous attempt. The lasso fell + all right tight about one of the animal's necks, but his other two heads + immediately set to work and gnawed the rope through, and then set off + after the dog-catcher, overtaking him at the very door of the pound. This + time he didn't do any biting, but lifting the dog-catcher up with his + various sets of teeth, fastened to his collar, coat-tails, and feet + respectively, carried him yelling like a trooper to the end of the wharf + and dropped him into the Styx. The result of this was nervous prostration + for the dog-catcher, another suit for damages for the city, and a great + laugh for the State authorities. In fact,” Boswell added, confidentially, + “I think perhaps the reason why the Prime-minister hasn't got Apollyon to + hang the whole city government has been due to the fun they've got out of + seeing Cerberus and the city fighting it out together. There's no doubt + about it that he is a wonderful dog, and is quite capable of taking care + of himself.” + </p> + <p> + “But the outcome of the case?” I asked, much interested. + </p> + <p> + “Defeat for the city,” said Boswell. “Failing to enforce its authority by + means of its servants, the city undertook to recover by due process of + law. The dog-catchers were powerless; the police declined to act on the + advice of the commissioners, since dog-catching was not within their + province; and the fire department averred that it was designed for the + putting out of fires and not for extinguishing fiery canines like + Cerberus. The dog, meanwhile, to show his contempt for the city, chewed + the license-tag off the neck upon which it had been placed, and dropped it + into a smelting-pot inside the gates of the infernal regions that was + reserved to bring political prisoners to their senses, and, worse than + all, made a perfect nuisance of himself by barking all day and baying all + night, rain or shine.” + </p> + <p> + “Papers in a suit at law were then served on Mazarin and the other members + of Apollyon's council, the causes of complaint were recited, and damages + for ten years back taxes on two dogs, plus the amounts recovered from the + city by the two injured dog-catchers, were demanded. The suit was put upon + the calendar, and Apollyon himself sat upon the bench with Judge + Blackstone, before whom the case was to be tried. + </p> + <p> + “On both sides the arguments were exceedingly strong. Coke appeared for + the city and Catiline for the State. After the complaint was read, the + attorney for the State put in his answer, that the State's contention was + that the ordinance had been complied with, that Cerberus was only one dog, + and that the license had been paid; that the license having been paid, the + dog-catchers had no right to endeavor to abduct the animal, and that + having done so they did it at their own peril; that the suit ought to be + dismissed, but that for the fun of it the State was perfectly willing to + let it go on. + </p> + <p> + “In rebuttal the plaintiff claimed that Cerberus was three dogs to all + intents and purposes, and the first dog-catcher was called to testify. + After giving his name and address he was asked a few questions of minor + importance, and then Coke asked: + </p> + <p> + “'Are you familiar with dogs?' + </p> + <p> + “'Moderately,' was the answer. 'I never got quite so intimate with one as + I did with him.' + </p> + <p> + “'With whom?' asked Coke. + </p> + <p> + “'Cerberus,' replied the witness. + </p> + <p> + “'Do you consider him to be one dog, two dogs or three dogs?' + </p> + <p> + “'I object!' cried Catiline, springing to his feet. 'The question is a + leading one.' + </p> + <p> + “'Sustained,' said Blackstone, with a nervous glance at Apollyon, who + smiled reassuringly at him. + </p> + <p> + “'Ah, you say you know a dog when you see one?' asked Coke. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' said the witness, 'perfectly.' + </p> + <p> + “'Do you know two dogs when you see them, or even three?' asked Coke. + </p> + <p> + “'I do,' replied the witness. + </p> + <p> + “'And how many dogs did you see when you saw Cerberus?' asked Coke, + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “'Three, anyhow,' replied the witness, with feeling, 'though afterwards I + thought there was a whole bench-show atop of me.' + </p> + <p> + “'Your witness,' said Coke. + </p> + <p> + “A murmur of applause went through the court-room, at which Apollyon + frowned; but his face cleared in a moment when Catiline rose up. + </p> + <p> + “'My cross-examination of this witness, your honor, will be confined to + one question.' Then turning to the witness he said, blandly: 'My poor + friend, if you considered Cerberus to be three dogs anyhow, why did you in + your examination a moment since refer to the avalanche of caninity, of + which you so affectingly speak, as him?' + </p> + <p> + “'He is a him,' said the witness. + </p> + <p> + “'But if there were three, should he not have been a them?' + </p> + <p> + “Coke swore profanely beneath his breath, and the witness squirmed about + in his chair, confused and broken, while both Judge Blackstone and + Apollyon smiled broadly. Manifestly the point of the defence had pierced + the armor of the plaintiff. + </p> + <p> + “'Your witness for re-direct,' said Catiline. + </p> + <p> + “'No thanks,' retorted Coke; 'there are others,' and, motioning to his + first witness to step down, he called the second dog-catcher. + </p> + <p> + “'What is your business?' asked Coke, after the usual preliminary + questions. + </p> + <p> + “'I'm out of business. Livin' on my damages,' said the witness. + </p> + <p> + “'What damages?' asked Coke. + </p> + <p> + “'Them I got from the city for injuries did me by that there—I + should say them there—dorgs, Cerberus.' + </p> + <p> + “'Them there what?' persisted Coke, to emphasize the point. + </p> + <p> + “'Dorgs,' said the witness, convincingly—'D-o-r-g-s.' + </p> + <p> + “'Why s?' queried Coke. 'We may admit the r, but why the s?' + </p> + <p> + “'Because it's the pullural of dorg. Cerberus ain't any single-headed + commission,' said the witness, who was something of a ward politician. + </p> + <p> + “'Why do you say that Cerberus is more than one dog?' + </p> + <p> + “'Because I've had experience,' replied the witness. 'I've seen the time + when he was everywhere all at once; that's why I say he's more than one + dorg. If he'd been only one dorg he couldn't have been anywhere else than + where he was.' + </p> + <p> + “'When was that?' + </p> + <p> + “'When I lassoed him.' + </p> + <p> + “'Him?' remonstrated Coke. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' said the witness. 'I only caught one of him, and then the other + two took a hand.' + </p> + <p> + “'Ah, the other two,' said Coke. 'You know dogs when you see them?' + </p> + <p> + “'I do, and he was all of 'em in a bunch,' replied the witness. + </p> + <p> + “'Your witness,' said Coke. + </p> + <p> + “'My friend,' said Catiline, rising quietly. 'How many men are you?' + </p> + <p> + “'One, sir,' was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “'Have you ever been in two places at once?' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, sir.' + </p> + <p> + “'When was that?' + </p> + <p> + “'When I was in jail and in London all at the same time.' + </p> + <p> + “'Very good; but were you in two places on the day of this attack upon you + by Cerberus?' + </p> + <p> + “'No, sir. I wish I had been. I'd have stayed in the other place.' + </p> + <p> + “'Then if you were in but one place yourself, how do you know that + Cerberus was in more than one place?' + </p> + <p> + “'Well, I guess if you—' + </p> + <p> + “'Answer the question,' said Catiline. + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, well—of course—' + </p> + <p> + “'Of course,' echoed Catiline. 'That's it, your honor; it is only “of + course,”—and I rest my case. We have no witnesses to call. We have + proven by their own witnesses that there is no evidence of Cerberus being + more than one dog.' + </p> + <p> + “You ought to have heard the cheers as Catiline sat down,” continued + Boswell. “As for poor Coke, he was regularly knocked out, but he rose up + to sum up his case as best he could. Blackstone, however, stopped him + right at the beginning. + </p> + <p> + “'The counsel for the plaintiff might as well sit down,' he said, 'and + save his breath. I've decided this case in favor of the defendant long + ago. It is plain to every one that Cerberus is only one dog, in spite of + his many talents and manifest ability to be in several places at once, and + inasmuch as the tax which is sued for is merely a dog-tax and not a + poll-tax, I must render judgment for the defendants, with costs. Next + case.' + </p> + <p> + “And the city of Cimmeria was thrown out of court,” concluded Boswell. + “Interesting, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” said I. “But how will this affect Blackstone? Isn't he a City + Judge?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Boswell; “he was, but his term expired this morning, and + this afternoon Apollyon appointed him Chief Justice of the Supreme Court + of Hades.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. A HAND-BOOK TO HADES + </h2> + <p> + “Boswell,” said I, the other night, as the machine began to click + nervously. “I have just received a letter from an unknown friend in Hawaii + who wants to know how the prize-fight between Samson and Goliath came out + that time when Kidd and his pirate crew stole the House-Boat on the Styx.” + </p> + <p> + “Just wait a minute, please,” the machine responded. “I am very busy just + now mapping out the itinerary of the first series of the Boswell + Personally Conducted Tours you suggested some time ago. I laid that whole + proposition before the Entertainment Committee of the Associated Shades, + and they have resolved unanimously to charter the Ex-Great Eastern from + the Styx Navigation Company, and return to the scenes of their former + glory, devoting a year to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Going to take their wives?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” Boswell replied. “That is a matter outside of the + jurisdiction of the committee and must be decided by a full vote of the + club. I hope they will, however. As manager of the enterprise I need + assistance, and there are some of the men who can't be managed by anybody + except their wives, or mothers-in-law, anyhow. I'll be through in a few + minutes. Meanwhile let me hand you the latest product of the Boswell + press.” + </p> + <p> + With this the genial spirit produced from an invisible pocket a + red-covered book bearing the delicious title of “Baedeker's Hades: A + Hand-book for Travellers,” which has entirely superseded, according to the + advertisement on the fly-leaves, such books as Virgil and Dante's Inferno + as the best guide to the lower regions, as well it might, for it appeared + on perusal to have been prepared with as much care as one of the more + material guide-books of the same publisher, which so greatly assist + travellers on this side of the Stygian River. + </p> + <p> + Some time, if Boswell will permit, I shall endeavor to have this little + volume published in this country since it contains many valuable hints to + the man of a roving disposition, or for the stay-at-home, for that matter, + for all roads lead to Hades. For instance, we do not find in previous + guide-books, like Dante's Inferno, any references whatsoever to the + languages it is well to know before taking the Stygian tour; to the kind + of money needed, or its quantity per capita; no allusion to the necessity + of passports is found in Dante or Virgil; custom-house requirements are + ignored by these authors; no statements as to the kind of clothing needed, + the quality of the hotels—nor indeed any real information of vital + importance to the traveller is to be found in the older books. In + Baedeker's Hades, on the other hand, all these subjects are exhaustively + treated, together with a very comprehensive series of chapters on “Stygian + Wines,” “Climate,” and “Hellish Art”—the expression is not mine—and + other topics of essential interest. + </p> + <p> + And of what suggestive quality was this little book. Who would ever have + guessed from a perusal of Dante that as Hades is the place of departed + spirits so also is it the ultimate resting-place of all other departed + things. What delightful anticipations are there in the idea of a visit to + the Alexandrian library, now suitably housed on the south side of Apollyon + Square, Cimmeria, in a building that would drive the trustees of the + Boston Public Library into envious despair, even though living Bacchantes + are found daily improving their minds in the recesses of its commodious + alcoves! What joyous feelings it gives one to think of visiting the + navy-yards of Tyre and finding there the ships concerning the whereabouts + of which poets have vainly asked questions for ages! Who would ever dream + that the question of the balladist, himself an able dreamer concerning + classic things, “Where are the Cities of Old Time,” could ever find its + answer in a simple guide-book telling us where Carthage is, where Troy and + all the lost cities of antiquity! + </p> + <p> + Then the details of amusements in this wonderful country—who could + gather aught of these from the Italian poet? The theatres of Gehenna, with + “Hamlet” produced under the joint direction of Shakespeare and the Prince + of Denmark himself, the great Zoo of Sheolia, with Jumbo, and the famous + woolly horse of earlier days, not to mention the long series of menageries + which have passed over the dark river in the ages now forgotten; the + hanging gardens of Babylon, where the picnicking element of Hades flock + week after week, chuting the chutes, and clambering joyously in and out of + the Trojan Horse, now set up in all its majesty therein, with + bowling-alleys on its roof, elevators in its legs, and the original + Ferris-wheel in its head; the freak museums in the densely populated + sections of the large cities, where Hop o' my Thumb and Jack the Giant + Killer are exhibited day after day alongside of the great ogres they have + killed; the opera-house, with Siegfried himself singing, supported by the + real Brunhild and the original, bona fide dragon Fafnir, running of his + own motive power, and breathing actual fire and smoke without the aid of a + steam-engine and a plumber to connect him therewith before he can go out + upon the stage to engage Siegfried in deadly combat. + </p> + <p> + For the information contained in this last item alone, even if the book + had no other virtue, it would be worthy of careful perusal from the + opening paragraph on language, to the last, dealing with the descent into + the Vitriol Reservoir at Gehenna. The account of the feeding of Fafnir, to + which admission can be had on payment of ten oboli, beginning with a puree + of kerosene, followed by a half-dozen cartridges on the half-shell, an + entree of nitro-glycerine, a solid roast of cannel-coal, and a salad of + gun-cotton, with a mayonnaise dressing of alcohol and a pinch of powder, + topped off with a demi-tasse of benzine and a box of matches to keep the + fires of his spirit going, is one of the most moving things I have ever + read, and yet it may be said without fear of contradiction that until this + guide-book was prepared very few of the Stygian tourists have imagined + that there was such a sight to be seen. I have gone carefully over Dante, + Virgil, and the works of Andrew Lang, and have found no reference + whatsoever in the pages of any of these talented persons to this + marvellous spectacle which takes place three times a day, and which I + doubt not results in a performance of Siegfried for the delectation of the + music lovers of Hades, which is beyond the power of the human mind to + conceive. + </p> + <p> + The hand-book has an added virtue, which distinguishes it from any other + that I have ever seen, in that it is anecdotal in style at times where an + anecdote is available and appropriate. In connection with this same + Fafnir, as showing how necessary it is for the tourist to be careful of + his personal safety in Hades, it is related that upon one occasion the + keeper of the dragon having taken a grudge against Siegfried for some + unintentional slight, fed Fafnir upon Roman-candles and a sky-rocket, with + the result that in the fight between the hero and the demon of the wood + the Siegfried was seriously injured by the red, white, and blue balls of + fire which the dragon breathed out upon him, while the sky-rocket flew out + into the audience and struck a young man in the top gallery, knocking him + senseless, the stick falling into a grand-tier box and impaling one of the + best known social lights of Cimmeria. “Therefore,” adds the astute editor + of the hand-book, “on Siegfried nights it were well if the tourist were to + go provided with an asbestos umbrella for use in case of an emergency of a + similar nature.” + </p> + <p> + In that portion of the book devoted to the trip up the river Styx the + legends surpass any of the Rhine stories in dramatic interest, because, + according to Commodore Charon's excursion system, the tourist can step + ashore and see the chief actors in them, who for a consideration will give + a full-dress rehearsal of the legendary acts for which they have been + famous. The sirens of the Stygian Lorelei, for instance, sit on an + eminence not far above the city of Cimmeria, and make a profession of + luring people ashore and giving away at so much per head locks of their + hair for remembrance' sake, all of which makes of the Stygian trip a thing + of far greater interest than that of the Rhine. + </p> + <p> + It had been my intention to make a few extracts from this portion of the + volume showing later developments in the legends of the Drachenfels, and + others of more than ordinary interest, but I find that with the departure + of Boswell for the night the treasured hand-book disappeared with him; + but, as I have already stated, if I can secure his consent to do so I will + some day have the book copied off on more material substance than that + employed in the original manuscript, so that the useful little tome may be + printed and scattered broadcast over a waiting and appreciative world. I + may as well state here, too, that I have taken the precaution to have the + title “Baedeker's Hades” and its contents copyrighted, so that any pirate + who recognizes the value of the scheme will attempt to pirate the work at + his peril. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had I finished the chapter on the legends of the Styx when Boswell + broke in upon me with: “Well, how do you like it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's great,” I said. “May I keep it?” + </p> + <p> + “You may if you can,” he laughed. “But I fancy it can't withstand the + rigors of this climate any more than an unfireproof copy of one of your + books could stand the caniculars of ours.” + </p> + <p> + His words were soon to be verified, for as soon as he left me the book + vanished, but whether it went off into thin air or was repocketed by the + departing Boswell I am not entirely certain. + </p> + <p> + “What was it you asked me about Samson and Goliath?” Boswell observed, as + he gathered up his manuscript from the floor beside the Enchanted + Typewriter. “Whether they'd ever been in Honolulu?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I replied. “I got a letter from Hawaii the other day asking for the + result of the prize-fight the day Kidd ran off with the house-boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” replied Boswell. “That? Why, ah, Samson won hands down, but only + because they played according to latter-day rules. If it had been a + regular knock-out fight, like the contests in the old days of the ring + when it was in its prime, Goliath could have managed him with one hand; + but the Samson backers played a sharp game on the Philistine by having the + most recently amended Queensbury rules adopted, and Goliath wasn't in it + five minutes after Samson opened his mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I understand,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Plain enough,” explained Boswell. “Goliath didn't know what the modern + rules were, but he thought a fight was a fight under any rules, so, like a + decent chap, he agreed, and when he found that it was nothing but a + talking-match he'd got into he fainted. He never was good at expressing + himself fluently. Samson talked him down in two rounds, just as he did the + other Philistines in the early days on earth.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “You're slightly off there,” I said. “That was a + stand-up-and-be-knocked-down fight, wasn't it? He used the jawbone of an + ass?” + </p> + <p> + “Very true,” observed Boswell, “but it is evident that it is you who are + slightly off. You haven't kept up with the higher criticism. It has been + proven scientifically that not only did the whale not swallow Jonah, but + that Samson's great feat against the Philistines was comparable only to + the achievements of your modern senators. He talked them to death.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why jawbone of an ass?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Samson was an ass,” replied Boswell. “They prove that by the temple + episode, for you see if he hadn't been one he'd have got out of the + building before yanking the foundations from under it. I tell you, old + chap, this higher criticism is a great thing, and as logical as death + itself.” + </p> + <p> + And with this Boswell left me. + </p> + <p> + I sincerely hope that the result of the fight will prove as satisfactory + to my friend in Hawaii as it was to me; for while I have no particular + admiration for Samson, I have always rejoiced to hear of the discomfitures + of Goliath, who, so far as I have been able to ascertain, was not only not + a gentleman, but, in addition, had no more regard for the rights of others + than a member of the New York police force or the editor of a Sunday + newspaper with a thirst for sensation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. SHERLOCK HOLMES AGAIN + </h2> + <p> + I had intended asking Boswell what had become of my copy of the Baedeker's + Hades when he next returned, but the output of the machine that evening so + interested me that the hand-book was entirely forgotten. If there ever was + a hero in this world who could compare with D'Artagnan in my estimation + for sheer ability in a given line that hero was Sherlock Holmes. With + D'Artagnan and Holmes for my companions I think I could pass the balance + of my days in absolute contentment, no matter what woful things might + befall me. So it was that, when I next heard the tapping keys and dulcet + bell of my Enchanted Type-writer, and, after listening intently for a + moment, realized that my friend Boswell was making a copy of a Sherlock + Holmes Memoir thereon for his next Sunday's paper, all thought of the + interesting little red book of the last meeting flew out of my head. I + rose quickly from my couch at the first sounding of the gong. + </p> + <p> + “Got a Holmes story, eh?” I said, walking to his side, and gazing eagerly + over the spot where his shoulder should have been. + </p> + <p> + “I have that, and it's a winner,” he replied, enthusiastically. “If you + don't believe it, read it. I'll have it copied in about two minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do both,” I said. “I believe all the Sherlock Holmes stories I read. + It is so much pleasanter to believe them true. If they weren't true they + wouldn't be so wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + With this I picked up the first page of the manuscript and shortly after + Boswell presented me with the balance, whereon I read the following + extraordinary tale: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A MYSTERY SOLVED + + A WONDERFUL ACHIEVEMENT IN FERRETING + + From Advance Sheets of + + MEMOIRS I REMEMBER + + BY + + SHERLOCK HOLMES, ESQ. +</pre> + <p> + Ferreter Extraordinary by Special Appointment to his Majesty Apollyon + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ———————- + + WHO THE LADY WAS! +</pre> + <p> + It was not many days after my solution of the Missing Diamond of the Nizam + of Jigamaree Mystery that I was called upon to take up a case which has + baffled at least one person for some ten or eleven centuries. The reader + will remember the mystery of the missing diamond—the largest known + in all history, which the Nizam of Jigamaree brought from India to present + to the Queen of England, on the occasion of her diamond jubilee. I had + been dead three years at the time, but, by a special dispensation of his + Imperial Highness Apollyon, was permitted to return incog to London for + the jubilee season, where it so happened that I put up at the same + lodging-house as that occupied by the Nizam and his suite. We sat opposite + each other at table d'hote, and for at least three weeks previous to the + losing of his treasure the Indian prince was very morose, and it was very + difficult to get him to speak. I was not supposed to know, nor, indeed, + was any one else, for that matter, at the lodging-house, that the Nizam + was so exalted a personage. He like myself was travelling incog and was + known to the world as Mr. Wilkins, of Calcutta—a very wise + precaution, inasmuch as he had in his possession a gem valued at a million + and a half of dollars. I recognized him at once, however, by his + unlikeness to a wood-cut that had been appearing in the American Sunday + newspapers, labelled with his name, as well as by the extraordinary + lantern which he had on his bicycle, a lantern which to the uneducated eye + was no more than an ordinary lamp, but which to an eye like mine, familiar + with gems, had for its crystal lens nothing more nor less than the famous + stone which he had brought for her Majesty the Queen, his imperial + sovereign. There are few people who can tell diamonds from plate-glass + under any circumstances, and Mr. Wilkins, otherwise the Nizam, realizing + this fact, had taken this bold method of secreting his treasure. Of + course, the moment I perceived the quality of the man's lamp I knew at + once who Mr. Wilkins was, and I determined to have a little innocent + diversion at his expense. + </p> + <p> + “It has been a fine day, Mr. Wilkins,” said I one evening over the pate. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, wearily. “Very—but somehow or other I'm depressed + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad,” I said, lightly, “but there are others. There's that poor Nizam + of Jigamaree, for instance—poor devil, he must be the bluest brown + man that ever lived.” + </p> + <p> + Wilkins started nervously as I mentioned the prince by name. + </p> + <p> + “Wh-why do you think that?” he asked, nervously fingering his + butter-knife. + </p> + <p> + “It's tough luck to have to give away a diamond that's worth three or four + times as much as the Koh-i-noor,” I said. “Suppose you owned a stone like + that. Would you care to give it away?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by a damn sight!” cried Wilkins, forcibly, and I noticed great tears + gathering in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Still, he can't help himself, I suppose,” I said, gazing abruptly at his + scarf-pin. “That is, he doesn't KNOW that he can. The Queen expects it. + It's been announced, and now the poor devil can't get out of it—though + I'll tell you, Mr. Wilkins, if I were the Nizam of Jigamaree, I'd get out + of it in ten seconds.” + </p> + <p> + I winked at him significantly. He looked at me blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” I added, merely to arouse him, “in just ten seconds! Ten + short, beautiful seconds.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Postlethwaite,” said the Nizam—Postlethwaite was the name I was + travelling under—“Mr. Postlethwaite,” said the Nizam—otherwise + Wilkins—“your remarks interest me greatly.” His face wreathed with a + smile that I had never before seen there. “I have thought as you do in + regard to this poor Indian prince, but I must confess I don't see how he + can get out of giving the Queen that diamond. Have a cigar, Mr. + Postlethwaite, and, waiter, bring us a triple magnum of champagne. Do you + really think, Mr. Postlethwaite, that there is a way out of it? If you + would like a ticket to Westminster for the ceremony, there are a + half-dozen.” + </p> + <p> + He tossed six tickets for seats among the crowned heads across the table + to me. His eagerness was almost too painful to witness. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said I, calmly pocketing the tickets, for they were of rare + value at that time. “The way out of it is very simple.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Mr. Postlethwaite,” said he, trying to keep cool. “Ah—are + you interested in rubies, sir? There are a few which I should be pleased + to have you accept”—and with that over came a handful of precious + stones each worth a fortune. These also I pocketed as I replied: + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly; if I were the Nizam,” said I, “I'd lose that diamond.” + </p> + <p> + A shade of disappointment came over Mr. Wilkins's face. + </p> + <p> + “Lose it? How? Where?” he asked, with a frown. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Lose it. Any way I could. As for the place where it should be lost, + any old place will do as long as it is where he can find it again when he + gets back home. He might leave it in his other clothes, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Make that two triple magnums, waiter,” cried Mr. Wilkins, excitedly, + interrupting me. “Postlethwaite, you're a genius, and if you ever want a + house and lot in Calcutta, just let me know and they're yours.” + </p> + <p> + You never saw such a change come over a man in all your life. Where he had + been all gloom before, he was now all smiles and jollity, and from that + time on to his return to India Mr. Wilkins was as happy as a school-boy at + the beginning of vacation. The next day the diamond was lost, and whoever + may have it at this moment, the British Crown is not in possession of the + Jigamaree gem. + </p> + <p> + But, as my friend Terence Mulvaney says, that is another story. It is of + the mystery immediately following this concerning which I have set out to + write. + </p> + <p> + I was sitting one day in my office on Apollyon Square opposite the + Alexandrian library, smoking an absinthe cigarette, which I had rolled + myself from my special mixture consisting of two parts tobacco, one part + hasheesh, one part of opium dampened with a liqueur glass of absinthe, + when an excited knock sounded upon my door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” I cried, adopting the usual formula. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and a beautiful woman stood before me clad in most regal + garments, robust of figure, yet extremely pale. It seemed to me that I had + seen her somewhere before, yet for a time I could not place her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sherlock Holmes?” said she, in deliciously musical tones, which, + singular to relate, she emitted in a fashion suggestive of a recitative + passage in an opera. + </p> + <p> + “The same,” said I, bowing with my accustomed courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “The ferret?” she sang, in staccato tones which were ravishing to my + musical soul. + </p> + <p> + I laughed. “That term has been applied to me, madame,” said I, chanting my + answer as best I could. “For myself, however, I prefer to assume the more + modest title of detective. I can work with or without clues, and have + never yet been baffled. I know who wrote the Junius letters, and upon + occasions have been known to see through a stone wall with my naked eye. + What can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me who I am!” she cried, tragically, taking the centre of the room + and gesticulating wildly. + </p> + <p> + “Well—really, madame,” I replied. “You didn't send up any card—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she sneered. “This is what your vaunted prowess amounts to, eh? Ha! + Do you suppose if I had a card with my name on it I'd have come to you to + inquire who I am? I can read a card as well as you can, Mr. Sherlock + Holmes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, as I understand it, madame,” I put in, “you have suddenly forgotten + your identity and wish me to—” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort. I have forgotten nothing. I never knew for certain + who I am. I have an impression, but it is based only on hearsay evidence,” + she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + For a moment I was fairly puzzled. Still I did not wish to let her know + this, and so going behind my screen and taking a capsule full of cocaine + to steady my nerves, I gained a moment to think. Returning, I said: + </p> + <p> + “This really is child's play for me, madame. It won't take more than a + week to find out who you are, and possibly, if you have any clews at all + to your identity, I may be able to solve this mystery in a day.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only three,” she answered, and taking a piece of swan's-down, a + lock of golden hair, and a pair of silver-tinsel tights from her + portmanteau she handed them over to me. + </p> + <p> + My first impulse was to ask the lady if she remembered the name of the + asylum from which she had escaped, but I fortunately refrained from doing + so, and she shortly left me, promising to return at the end of the week. + </p> + <p> + For three days I puzzled over the clews. Swan's-down, yellow hair, and a + pair of silver-tinsel tights, while very interesting no doubt at times, do + not form a very solid basis for a theory establishing the identity of so + regal a person as my visitor. My first impression was that she was a + vaudeville artist, and that the exhibits she had left me were a part of + her make-up. This I was forced to abandon shortly, because no woman with + the voice of my visitor would sing in vaudeville. The more ambitious stage + was her legitimate field, if not grand opera itself. + </p> + <p> + At this point she returned to my office, and I of course reported + progress. That is one of the most valuable things I learned while on earth—when + you have done nothing, report progress. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't quite succeeded as yet,” said I, “but I am getting at it + slowly. I do not, however, think it wise to acquaint you with my present + notions until they are verified beyond peradventure. It might help me + somewhat if you were to tell me who it is you think you are. I could work + either forward or backward on that hypothesis, as seemed best, and so + arrive at a hypothetical truth anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just what I don't want to do,” said she. “That information might + bias your final judgment. If, however, acting on the clews which you have, + you confirm my impression that I am such and such a person, as well as the + views which other people have, then will my status be well defined and I + can institute my suit against my husband for a judicial separation, with + back alimony, with some assurance of a successful issue.” + </p> + <p> + I was more puzzled than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, slowly, “I of course can see how a bit of swan's-down and + a lock of yellow hair backed up by a pair of silver-tinsel tights might + constitute reasonable evidence in a suit for separation, but wouldn't it—ah—be + more to your purpose if I should use these data as establishing the + identity of—er—somebody else?” + </p> + <p> + “How very dense you are,” she replied, impatiently. “That's precisely what + I want you to do.” + </p> + <p> + “But you told me it was your identity you wished proven,” I put in, + irritably. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Then these bits of evidence are—yours?” I asked, hesitatingly. One + does not like to accuse a lady of an undue liking for tinsel. + </p> + <p> + “They are all I have left of my husband,” she answered with a sob. + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” said I, my perplexity increasing. “Was the—ah—the + gentleman blown up by dynamite?” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Mr. Holmes,” she retorted, rising and running the scales. “I + think, after all, I have come to the wrong shop. Have you Hawkshaw's + address handy? You are too obtuse for a detective.” + </p> + <p> + My reputation was at stake, so I said, significantly: + </p> + <p> + “Good! Good! I was merely trying one of my disguises on you, madame, and + you were completely taken in. Of course no one would ever know me for + Sherlock Holmes if I manifested such dullness.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, her face lighting up. “You were merely deceiving me by + appearing to be obtuse?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said I. “I see the whole thing in a nutshell. You married an + adventurer; he told you who he was, but you've never been able to prove + it; and suddenly you are deserted by him, and on going over his wardrobe + you find he has left nothing but these articles: and now you wish to sue + him for a separation on the ground of desertion, and secure alimony if + possible.” + </p> + <p> + It was a magnificent guess. + </p> + <p> + “That is it precisely,” said the lady. “Except as to the extent of his + 'leavings.' In addition to the things you have he gave my small brother a + brass bugle and a tin sword.” + </p> + <p> + “We may need to see them later,” said I. “At present I will do all I can + for you on the evidence in hand. I have got my eye on a gentleman who + wears silver-tinsel tights now, but I am afraid he is not the man we are + after, because his hair is black, and, as far as I have been able to learn + from his valet, he is utterly unacquainted with swan's-down.” + </p> + <p> + We separated again and I went to the club to think. Never in my life + before had I had so baffling a case. As I sat in the cafe sipping a + cocaine cobbler, who should walk in but Hamlet, strangely enough picking + particles of swan's-down from his black doublet, which was literally + covered with it. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Sherlock!” he said, drawing up a chair and sitting down beside me. + “What you up to?” + </p> + <p> + “Trying to make out where you have been,” I replied. “I judge from the + swan's-down on your doublet that you have been escorting Ophelia to the + opera in the regulation cloak.” + </p> + <p> + “You're mistaken for once,” he laughed. “I've been driving with Lohengrin. + He's got a pair of swans that can do a mile in 2.10—but it makes + them moult like the devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Pair of what?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Swans,” said Hamlet. “He's an eccentric sort of a duffer, that Lohengrin. + Afraid of horses, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “And so drives swans instead?” said I, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “The same,” replied Hamlet. “Do I look as if he drove squab?” + </p> + <p> + “He must be queer,” said I. “I'd like to meet him. He'd make quite an + addition to my collection of freaks.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” observed Hamlet. “He'll be here to-morrow to take luncheon + with me, and if you'll come, too, you'll be most welcome. He's collecting + freaks, too, and I haven't a doubt would be pleased to know you.” + </p> + <p> + We parted and I sauntered homeward, cogitating over my strange client, and + now and then laughing over the idiosyncrasies of Hamlet's friend the + swan-driver. It never occurred to me at the moment however to connect the + two, in spite of the link of swan's-down. I regarded it merely as a + coincidence. The next day, however, on going to the club and meeting + Hamlet's strange guest, I was struck by the further coincidence that his + hair was of precisely the same shade of yellow as that in my possession. + It was of a hue that I had never seen before except at performances of + grand opera, or on the heads of fool detectives in musical burlesques. + Here, however, was the real thing growing luxuriantly from the man's head. + </p> + <p> + “Ho-ho!” thought I to myself. “Here is a fortunate encounter; there may be + something in it,” and then I tried to lead him on. + </p> + <p> + “I understand, Mr. Lohengrin,” I said, “that you have a fine span of + swans.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, and I was astonished to note that he, like my client, + spoke in musical numbers. “Very. They're much finer than horses, in my + opinion. More peaceful, quite as rapid, and amphibious. If I go out for a + drive and come to a lake they trot quite as well across its surface as on + the highways.” + </p> + <p> + “How interesting!” said I. “And so gentle, the swan. Your wife, I presume—” + </p> + <p> + Hamlet kicked my shins under the table. + </p> + <p> + “I think it will rain to-morrow,” he said, giving me a glance which if it + said anything said shut up. + </p> + <p> + “I think so, too,” said Lohengrin, a lowering look on his face. “If it + doesn't, it will either snow, or hail, or be clear.” And he gazed + abstractedly out of the window. + </p> + <p> + The kick and the man's confusion were sufficient proof. I was on the right + track at last. Yet the evidence was unsatisfactory because merely + circumstantial. My piece of down might have come from an opera cloak and + not from a well-broken swan, the hair might equally clearly have come from + some other head than Lohengrin's, and other men have had trouble with + their wives. The circumstantial evidence lying in the coincidences was + strong but not conclusive, so I resolved to pursue the matter and invite + the strange individual to a luncheon with me, at which I proposed to wear + the tinsel tights. Seeing them, he might be forced into betraying himself. + </p> + <p> + This I did, and while my impressions were confirmed by his demeanor, no + positive evidence grew out of it. + </p> + <p> + “I'm hungry as a bear!” he said, as I entered the club, clad in a long, + heavy ulster, reaching from my shoulders to the ground, so that the tights + were not visible. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said I. “I like a hearty eater,” and I ordered a luncheon of ten + courses before removing my overcoat; but not one morsel could the man eat, + for on the removal of my coat his eye fell upon my silver garments, and + with a gasp he wellnigh fainted. It was clear. He recognized them and was + afraid, and in consequence lost his appetite. But he was game, and tried + to laugh it off. + </p> + <p> + “Silver man, I see,” he said, nervously, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, taking the lock of golden hair from my pocket and dangling + it before him. “Bimetallist.” + </p> + <p> + His jaw dropped in dismay, but recovering himself instantly he put up a + fairly good fight. + </p> + <p> + “It is strange, Mr. Lohengrin,” said I, “that in the three years I have + been here I've never seen you before.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been very quiet,” he said. “Fact is, I have had my reasons, Mr. + Holmes, for preferring the life of a hermit. A youthful indiscretion, sir, + has made me fear to face the world. There was nothing wrong about it, save + that it was a folly, and I have been anxious in these days of newspapers + to avoid any possible revival of what might in some eyes seem scandalous.” + </p> + <p> + I felt sorry for him, but my duty was clear. Here was my man—but how + to gain direct proof was still beyond me. No further admissions could be + got out of him, and we soon parted. + </p> + <p> + Two days later the lady called and again I reported progress. + </p> + <p> + “It needs but one thing, madame, to convince me that I have found your + husband,” said I. “I have found a man who might be connected with + swan's-down, from whose luxuriant curls might have come this tow-colored + lock, and who might have worn the silver-tinsel tights—yet it is all + MIGHT and no certainty.” + </p> + <p> + “I will bring my small brother's bugle and the tin sword,” said she. “The + sword has certain properties which may induce him to confess. My brother + tells me that if he simply shakes it at a cat the cat falls dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so,” said I, “and I will try it on him. If he recognizes the sword and + remembers its properties when I attempt to brandish it at him, he'll be + forced to confess, though it would be awkward if he is the wrong man and + the sword should work on him as it does on the cat.” + </p> + <p> + The next day I was in possession of the famous toy. It was not very long, + and rather more suggestive of a pancake-turner than a sword, but it was a + terror. I tested its qualities on a swarm of gnats in my room, and the + moment I shook it at them they fluttered to the ground as dead as + door-nails. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to be careful of this weapon,” I thought. “It would be terrible + if I should brandish it at a motor-man trying to get one of the Gehenna + Traction Company's cable-cars to stop and he should drop dead at his + post.” + </p> + <p> + All was now ready for the demonstration. Fortunately the following + Saturday night was club night at the House-Boat, and we were all expected + to come in costume. For dramatic effect I wore a yellow wig, a helmet, the + silver-tinsel tights, and a doublet to match, with the brass bugle and the + tin sword properly slung about my person. I looked stunning, even if I do + say it, and much to my surprise several people mistook me for the man I + was after. Another link in the chain! EVEN THE PUBLIC UNCONSCIOUSLY + RECOGNIZED THE VALUE OF MY DEDUCTIONS. THEY CALLED ME LOHENGRIN! + </p> + <p> + And of course it all happened as I expected. It always does. Lohengrin + came into the assembly-room five minutes after I did and was visibly + annoyed at my make-up. + </p> + <p> + “This is a great liberty,” said he, grasping the hilt of his sword; but I + answered by blowing the bugle at him, at which he turned livid and fell + back. He had recognized its soft cadence. I then hauled the sword from my + belt, shook it at a fly on the wall, which immediately died, and made as + if to do the same at Lohengrin, whereupon he cried for mercy and fell upon + his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Turn that infernal thing the other way!” he shrieked. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said I, lowering my arm. “Then you know its properties?” + </p> + <p> + “I do—I do!” he cried. “It used to be mine—I confess it!” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said I, calmly putting the horrid bit of zinc back into my belt, + “that's all I wanted to know. If you'll come up to my office some morning + next week I'll introduce you to your wife,” and I turned from him. + </p> + <p> + My mission accomplished, I left the festivities and returned to my + quarters where my fair client was awaiting me. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, Mrs. Lohengrin,” I said, and the lady cried aloud with + joy at the name, for it was the very one she had hoped it would be. “My + man turns out to be your man, and I turn him over therefore to you, only + deal gently with him. He's a pretty decent chap and sings like a bird.” + </p> + <p> + Whereon I presented her with my bill for 5000 oboli, which she paid + without a murmur, as was entirely proper that she should, for upon the + evidence which I had secured the fair plaintiff, in the suit for + separation of Elsa vs. Lohengrin on the ground of desertion and + non-support, obtained her decree, with back alimony of twenty-five per + cent. of Lohengrin's income for a trifle over fifteen hundred years. + </p> + <p> + How much that amounted to I really do not know, but that it was a large + sum I am sure, for Lohengrin must have been very wealthy. He couldn't have + afforded to dress in solid silver-tinsel tights if he had been otherwise. + I had the tights assayed before returning them to their owner, and even in + a country where free coinage of tights is looked upon askance they could + not be duplicated for less than $850 at a ratio of 32 to 1. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. GOLF IN HADES + </h2> + <p> + “Jim,” said I to Boswell one morning as the type-writer began to work, + “perhaps you can enlighten me on a point concerning which a great many + people have questioned me recently. Has golf taken hold of Hades yet? You + referred to it some time ago, and I've been wondering ever since if it had + become a fad with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Has it?” laughed my visitor; “well, I should rather say it had. The fact + is, it has been a great boon to the country. You remember my telling you + of the projected revolution led by Cromwell, and Caesar, and the others?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, very well,” said I, “and I have been intending to ask you how it + came out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, everything's as fine and sweet as can be now,” rejoined Boswell, + somewhat gleefully, “and all because of golf. We are all quiet along the + Styx now. All animosities are buried in the general love of golf, and + every one of us, high or low, autocrat and revolutionist, is hobnobbing + away in peace and happiness on the links. Why, only six weeks ago, + Apollyon was for cooking Bonaparte on a waffle iron, and yesterday the two + went out to the Cimmerian links together and played a mixed foursome, + Bonaparte and Medusa playing against Apollyon and Delilah.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! Really?” I cried. “That must have been an interesting match.” + </p> + <p> + “It was, and up to the very last it was nip-and-tuck between 'em,” said + Boswell. “Apollyon and Delilah won it with one hole up, and they got that + on the put. They'd have halved the hole if Medusa's back hair hadn't + wiggled loose and bitten her caddie just as she was holeing out.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a remarkable game,” said I. “There is no sensation in the world + quite equal to that which comes to a man's soul when he has hit the ball a + solid clip and sees it sail off through the air towards the green, + whizzing musically along like a very bird.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Boswell; “but I'm rather of the opinion that it's a safer + game for shades than for you purely material persons.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “It is easy to understand,” returned Boswell. “For instance, with us there + is no resistance when by a mischance we come into unexpected contact with + the ball. Take the experience of Diogenes and Solomon at the St. Jonah's + Links week before last. The Wiseman's Handicap was on. Diogenes and Simple + Simon were playing just ahead of Solomon and Montaigne. Solomon was + driving in great form. For the first time in his life he seemed able to + keep his eye on the ball, and the way he sent it flying through the air + was a caution. Diogenes and Simple Simon had both had their second stroke + and Solomon drove off. His ball sailed straight ahead like a missile from + a catapult, flew in a bee-line for Diogenes, struck him at the base of his + brain, continued on through, and landed on the edge of the green.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” I cried. “Didn't it kill him?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not,” retorted Boswell. “You can't kill a shade. Diogenes + didn't know he'd been hit, but if that had happened to one of you material + golfers there'd have been a sickening end to that tournament.” + </p> + <p> + “There would, indeed,” said I. “There isn't much fun in being hit by a + golf-ball. I can testify to that because I have had the experience,” and I + called to mind the day at St. Peterkin's when I unconsciously stymied with + my material self the celebrated Willie McGuffin, the Demon Driver from the + Hootmon Links, Scotland. McGuffin made his mark that day if he never did + before, and I bear the evidence thereof even now, although the incident + took place two years ago, when I did not know enough to keep out of the + way of the player who plays so well that he thinks he has a perpetual + right of way everywhere. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of clubs do you Stygians use?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very much the same kind that you chaps do,” returned Boswell. + “Everybody experiments with new fads, too, just as you do. Old Peter + Stuyvesant, for instance, always drives with his wooden leg, and never + uses anything else unless he gets a lie where he's got to.” + </p> + <p> + “His wooden leg?” I roared, with a laugh. “How on earth does he do that?” + </p> + <p> + “He screws the small end of it into a square block shod like a brassey,” + explained Boswell, “tees up his ball, goes back ten yards, makes a run at + it and kicks the ball pretty nearly out of sight. He can put with it too, + like a dream, swinging it sideways.” + </p> + <p> + “But he doesn't call that golf, does he?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” demanded Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “I should call it football,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Boswell. “Not a bit of it. He hasn't any foot on that + leg, and he has a golf-club head with a shaft to it. There isn't any rule + which says that the shaft shall not look like an inverted nine-pin, nor do + any of the accepted authorities require that the club shall be manipulated + by the arms. I admit it's bad form the way he plays, but, as Stuyvesant + himself says, he never did travel on his shape.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he gets a cuppy lie?” I asked, very much interested at the first + news from Hades of the famous old Dutchman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he does one of two things,” said Boswell. “He stubs it out with his + toe, or goes back and plays two more. Munchausen plays a good game too. He + beat the colonel forty-seven straight holes last Wednesday, and all Hades + has been talking about it ever since.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is the colonel?” I asked, innocently. + </p> + <p> + “Bogey,” returned Boswell. “Didn't you ever hear of Colonel Bogey?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” I replied, “but I always supposed Bogey was an imaginary + opponent, not a real one.” + </p> + <p> + “So he is,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Then you mean—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that Munchausen beat him forty-seven up,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Were there any witnesses?” I demanded, for I had little faith in + Munchausen's regard for the eternal verities, among which a golf-card must + be numbered if the game is to survive. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a hundred,” said Boswell. “There was only one trouble with 'em.” + Here the great biographer laughed. “They were all imaginary, like the + colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “And Munchausen's score?” I queried. + </p> + <p> + “The same, naturally. But it makes him king-pin in golf circles just the + same, because nobody can go back on his logic,” said Boswell. “Munchausen + reasoned it out very logically indeed, and largely, he said, to protect + his own reputation. Here is an imaginary warrior, said he, who makes a + bully, but wholly imaginary, score at golf. He sends me an imaginary + challenge to play him forty-seven holes. I accept, not so much because I + consider myself a golfer as because I am an imaginer—if there is + such a word.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask Dr. Johnson,” said I, a little sarcastically. I always grow sarcastic + when golf is mentioned. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Johnson be—” began Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Boswell!” I remonstrated. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Johnson be it, I was about to say,” clicked the type-writer, suavely; + but the ink was thick and inclined to spread. “Munchausen felt that Bogey + was encroaching on his preserve as a man with an imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “I have always considered Colonel Bogey a liar,” said I. “He joins all the + clubs and puts up an ideal score before he has played over the links.” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't the point at all,” said Boswell. “Golfers don't lie. Realists + don't lie. Nobody in polite—or say, rather, accepted—society + lies. They all imagine. Munchausen realizes that he has only one claim to + recognition, and that is based entirely upon his imagination. So when the + imaginary Colonel Bogey sent him an imaginary challenge to play him + forty-seven holes at golf—” + </p> + <p> + “Why forty-seven?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “An imaginary number,” explained Boswell. “Don't interrupt. As I say, when + the imaginary colonel—” + </p> + <p> + “I must interrupt,” said I. “What was he colonel of?” + </p> + <p> + “A regiment of perfect caddies,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I see,” I replied. “Imaginary in his command. There isn't one perfect + caddy, much less a regiment of the little reprobates.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong there,” said Boswell. “You don't know how to produce a good + caddy—but good caddies can be made.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” I cried, for I have suffered. “I'll have the plan patented.” + </p> + <p> + “Take a flexible brassey, and at the ninth hole, if they deserve it, give + them eighteen strokes across the legs with all your strength,” said + Boswell. “But, as I said before, don't interrupt. I haven't much time left + to talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must ask one more question,” I put in, for I was growing excited + over a new idea. “You say give them eighteen strokes across the legs. + Across whose legs?” + </p> + <p> + “Yours,” replied Boswell. “Just take your caddy up, place him across your + knees, and spank him with your brassey. Spank isn't a good golf term, but + it is good enough for the average caddy; in fact, it will do him good.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said I, with a mental resolve to adopt his prescription. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Boswell, “Munchausen, having received an imaginary challenge + from an imaginary opponent, accepted. He went out to the links with an + imaginary ball, an imaginary bagful of fanciful clubs, and licked the + imaginary life out of the colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, I don't see,” said I, somewhat jealously, perhaps, “how that makes + him king-pin in golf circles. Where did he play?” + </p> + <p> + “On imaginary links,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Poh!” I ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “Don't sneer,” said Boswell. “You know yourself that the links you imagine + are far better than any others.” + </p> + <p> + “What is Munchausen's strongest point?” I asked, seeing that there was no + arguing with the man—“driving, approaching, or putting?” + </p> + <p> + “None of the three. He cannot put, he foozles every drive, and at + approaching he's a consummate ass,” said Boswell. + </p> + <p> + “Then what can he do?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Count,” said Boswell. “Haven't you learned that yet? You can spend hours + learning how to drive, weeks to approach, and months to put. But if you + want to win you must know how to count.” + </p> + <p> + I was silent, and for the first time in my life I realized that Munchausen + was not so very different from certain golfers I have met in my short day + as a golfiac, and then Boswell put in: + </p> + <p> + “You see, it isn't lofting or driving that wins,” he continued. “Cups + aren't won on putting or approaching. It's the man who puts in the best + card who becomes the champion.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you are right,” I said, sadly, “but I am sorry to find that + Hades is as badly off as we mortals in that matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Golf, sir,” retorted Boswell, sententiously, “is the same everywhere, and + that which is dome in our world is directly in line with what is developed + in yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry for Hades,” said I; “but to continue about golf—do the + ladies play much on your links?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, rather,” returned Boswell, “and it's rather amusing to watch them + at it, too. Xanthippe with her Greek clothes finds it rather difficult; + but for rare sport you ought to see Queen Elizabeth trying to keep her eye + on the ball over her ruff! It really is one of the finest spectacles you + ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “But why don't they dress properly?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” sighed Boswell, “that is one of the things about Hades that destroys + all the charm of life there. We are but shades.” + </p> + <p> + “Granted,” said I, “but your garments can—” + </p> + <p> + “Our garments can't,” said Boswell. “Through all eternity we shades of our + former selves are doomed to wear the shadows of our former clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what the devil does a poor dress-maker do who goes to Hades?” I + cried. + </p> + <p> + “She makes over the things she made before,” said Boswell. “That's why, my + dear fellow,” the biographer added, becoming confidential—“that's + why some people confound Hades with—ah—the other place, don't + you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, there's golf!” I said; “and that's a panacea for all ills. YOU + enjoy it, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” cried Boswell. “Me enjoy it? Not on all the lives in Christendom. It + is the direst drudgery for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Drudgery?” I said. “Bah! Nonsense, Boswell!” + </p> + <p> + “You forget—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Forget? It must be you who forget, if you call golf drudgery.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” sighed the genial spirit. “No, <i>I</i> don't forget. I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember what?” I demanded. + </p> + <p> + “That I am Dr. Johnson's caddy!” was the answer. And then came a + heart-rending sigh, and from that time on all was silence. I repeatedly + put questions to the machine, made observations to it, derided it, + insulted it, but there was no response. + </p> + <p> + It has so continued to this day, and I can only conclude the story of my + Enchanted Type-writer by saying that I presume golf has taken the same + hold upon Hades that it has upon this world, and that I need not hope to + hear more from that attractive region until the game has relaxed its grip, + which I know can never be. + </p> + <p> + Hence let me say to those who have been good enough to follow me through + the realms of the Styx that I bid them an affectionate farewell and thank + them for their kind attention to my chronicles. They are all truthful; but + now that the source of supply is cut off I cannot prove it. I can only + hope that for one and all the future may hold as much of pleasure as the + place of departed spirits has held for me. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Enchanted Typewriter, by John Kendrick Bangs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ENCHANTED TYPEWRITER *** + +***** This file should be named 3162-h.htm or 3162-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/3162/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, 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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