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diff --git a/78694-0.txt b/78694-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb3416b --- /dev/null +++ b/78694-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1567 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78694 *** + + + + +LITTLE BLUE BOOK NO. 771 +Edited by E. Haldeman-Julius + +The Humor of +“Bill” Nye + +Edited, with an Introduction, by +John W. Gunn + +HALDEMAN-JULIUS COMPANY +GIRARD, KANSAS + + + + +Copyright, 1924 +Haldeman-Julius Company + + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +THE HUMOR OF “BILL” NYE + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The first book I remember (excepting several Dickens novels, flotsam of +an abandoned attic library) is a cheap, ill-favored, coarsely printed +volume of “Bill” Nye’s sketches, elegantly entitled _Baled Hay_. I +discovered it in a corner of the village postoffice, where there were +a couple of shelves of nondescript books--cheap in every sense: in +price, binding and contents--which served as the sole local excuse for +a bookstore. This copy of “Bill” Nye is the link between my boyish and +my mature reading. Nye is the one author whom I enjoy to this day in +precisely the same spirit and to the same degree that I enjoyed him as +a boy. This fact indicates his limitation and his peculiar appeal. He +is limited to a crude, obvious, undeveloped humor; and his appeal is +to the undiscriminating childlike mirth in a man. He is juvenile in +essence, in subject, in manner. I might say that “Bill” Nye was funny +to me in the same way that almost any trifling break in the monotony of +the schoolroom was funny--a suddenly overturned chair, a spilled bottle +of ink, or an egregious blunder in recitation. + +Perhaps this is not an adequate explanation. It is not every schoolboy +that responds to the boisterous fun of “Bill” Nye. They prefer, as in +later life, something with plenty of action--_Peck’s Bad Boy_, for +example or the misadventures of Mr. Bowser (wasn’t this the name?). +Yet I say it is to the boy in man, to the uncouth comic spirit that +lurks in every age of man, that “Bill” Nye appeals. One enjoys him +in the mood of a boy released from school, or, better still, in the +spirit of spring-time truancy. What a book like _Treasure Island_ is to +the sense of adventure, what fairy tales are to the sense of wonder, +“Bill” Nye is to the sense of humor. The enjoyment of “Bill” Nye is not +found in the intellectual glow of satire, in the keen smile of wit, in +the subtle thrill of epigram or paradox, but in the loud laughter of +the commonest of comic things. For this reason I find in him a speedy +and unfailing escape from melancholy thoughts. No matter how jaded +one’s spirits, how deeply plunged in gloom, Nye’s grimacing, cavorting +absurdities will surely produce the usual number of laughs. There is +not demanded any delicate receptive mood, any particular conjunction of +happy spirits. He is as gratuitously and independently ludicrous and +laughable as a circus clown. + +One could not call “Bill” Nye subtle--heavens! no--but his humor is +often artificial, in that it depends not absolutely upon incidents +that in themselves are humorous, but upon an odd, perverse, irrational +use of words. He tells somewhere of a would-be author, who fondly +anticipated, when his work should be finished, a crowd of publishers +“trampling the daisies” in the front yard. After wearily writing +“Finis,” he looked out of the window and was “surprised by the abrupt +and pronounced manner in which they were not there.” This is absurd +enough, in all conscience; and because it is absurd--unexpectedly +and unreasonably absurd--I, for one, find it laughable. And who can +resist a chuckle at this sort of expression: “the low rumble of the +throbbing Boston brain dimly heard in the distance”? Writing of +taxidermy, on which he gravely pretends to be an authority, he refers +to “upholstered beasts.” Again, we have this phrase: “the still, white +features of a soup-bone that has outlived its usefulness.” And this: +“the death-rattle of a bathtub.” He declares that he is willing to “sit +up all night to doubt” the theory of eternal damnation. Writing of the +stern and hidebound Puritans who settled on the “stern and rockbound” +coast of New England, he defines religious freedom as “the art of +giving intolerance a little more room.” I am grateful for every blow, +however light, at Puritanism and intolerance. Whether it be Voltaire or +“Bill” Nye (a sufficiently grotesque comparison!) there is relish in +the ironic or humorous view of the atrabilious Cotton Mathers of this +world. I quote another of Nye’s amusing references to the Puritans: +“Among the Puritans there were several who had enlarged consciences, +and who desired to take in extra work for others who had no consciences +and were busy in the fields.” The dreary economic background +that perhaps had much to do with the narrowness of outlook that +distinguished the Puritans is succinctly described by Nye: “The people +were kept busy digging clams to sustain life in order to raise Indian +corn enough to give them sufficient strength to pull clams enough the +following winter to get them through till the next corn crop should +give them strength to dig for clams again.” There is shrewdness, too, +in this observation on the Civil War: “Most great wars are arranged by +people who stay at home and sell groceries to the widow and orphan and +old maids at one hundred per cent advance.” + +The best of “Bill” Nye, to my notion, are his humorous historical +sketches--pseudo-historical, indeed, but frequently affording glimpses +of the truth that are not to be found in the sober accepted chronicles. +The quality of this phase of his humor is, I think, simply explained. +It consists of an irreverence that is, at bottom, touched with +skepticism. Hero-worship, if it is a more or less universal instinct of +human nature, is a rather stiff and uncomfortable and trying exercise. +It is, too, an overestimated and overworked instinct, that has been too +persistently and prodigiously appealed to in popular history. These +“steel engravings,” plaster saints and wooden models of heroism are +(certainly at times) an unlovable and tiresome company. + +One finds a wholesome, hearty reaction from this hero-worship in “Bill” +Nye’s jolly brand of history. He goes guffawing down the Hall of +Fame, swatting blithely the sedate statues of the brave and good and +mighty and learned. Here he is, indeed, a very schoolboy, throwing his +history-book aside, and shooting paper wads at the immobile, insensibly +decorous figures of Columbus and Washington and Ben Franklin and the +rest. In spite of oneself, one laughs even at one’s favorite hero, and, +with seeming inconsequence, regards this hero thereafter in a more +human and favorable light. There is relief, there is relaxation--a +healthful unbending of the faculties--in these droll, preposterous, +utterly irrelevant comments. We see Columbus suffering from a period +of geographical depression--nothing to discover--and being recommended +to Queen Isabella as a capable man in his trade, who “is willing to +let his work show for itself”; Washington as a man equally efficient +in prayer and profanity, swearing with a vigor that would “break up +the ice in the Delaware a week earlier than usual”; Ben Franklin as +foreman, “cussing” the rival paper and yelling for more copy; Daniel +Webster as “a good off-hand speaker,” who “wore the largest hat of any +man then in Congress”; Noah Webster, he of the immortal dictionary, as +the man who “had the best command of language of any American author +prior to our day.” + +Opinions may well differ regarding the humor of this sort of +thing--certainly it is not profound nor subtle nor artistic humor, +being more or less trifling horseplay indeed--but there is laughter in +it nevertheless and it is an escape from that seriousness which often +weighs too heavily on the spirit. It is good to laugh, whatever the +occasion; and one who has a robust and expansive sense of humor will +not fail to laugh occasionally with “Bill” Nye. + +One can say, although it goes without saying, that Nye is not of the +company of the world’s great humorists. One would not mention him in +the same breath with Sterne, or Rabelais, or Moliere, or Dick Steele, +or Oscar Wilde, or our own Mark Twain. The humor of Nye is the humor +of what Nye himself called “the new and crass civilization” of his +day. It is not the humor of the highest culture. It is a humor that +is barely commentary--a mere pointing out of absurdities--rather than +deliberately or delicately creative. “Bill” Nye is superficial; he is +sophomoric; he is often somnolent; but he is funny, and indeed this +word defines him exactly. He is funny rather than truly humorous in +the finer sense of the word. In the latter part of the nineteenth +century, “Bill” Nye grew up with the Western American frontier country, +and in the midst of these raw beginnings of a new and strange and +boisterously immature society, full of the most violent contrasts, he +exercised his peculiar and contemporaneous humor. A very little of +“Bill” Nye will suffice for the general reader. His kind of humor has +its natural limits and, writing as a journalist, much of what he wrote +is labored and dull. This little book contains some of the best and +most characteristic of his sketches; and if it cannot quite be said +that this is all of him that is worth-while or enjoyable, at least it +represents the extent to which he may be read agreeably and profitably +by one who desires no more than a bowing acquaintance with him; it is, +truth to tell, an accurate measure of the man’s importance. + + + + +WORDS ABOUT WASHINGTON + + +The name of George Washington has always had about it a glamor that +made him appear more in the light of a god than a tall man with large +feet and a mouth made to fit an old-fashioned, full-dress pumpkin pie. +I use the word glamor, not so much because I know what glamor means, +but because I have never used it before, and I am getting a little +tired of the short, easy words I have been using so long. + +George Washington’s face has beamed out upon us for many years now, +on postage stamps and currency, in marble, and plaster, and bronze, +in photographs of original portraits, paintings, and stereoscopic +views. We have seen him on horseback and on foot, on the warpath and +on skates, cussing his troops for their shiftlessness, and then in the +solitude of the forest, with his snorting war-horse tied to a tree, +engaged in prayer. + +We have seen all these pictures of George, till we are led to believe +that he did not breathe our air or eat American groceries. But George +Washington was not perfect. I say this after a long and careful study +of his life, and I do not say it to detract the very smallest iota from +the proud history of the Father of his Country. I say it simply that +the boys of America who want to become George Washingtons will not feel +so timid about trying it. + +When I say that George Washington, who now lies so calmly in the +lime-kiln at Mount Vernon, could reprimand and reproach his +subordinates at times, in a way to make the ground crack open and break +up the ice in the Delaware a week earlier than usual, I do not mention +it in order to show the boys of our day that profanity will make them +resemble George Washington. That was one of his weak points, and no +doubt he was ashamed of it, as he ought to have been. Some poets think +that if they get drunk, and stay drunk, they will resemble Edgar A. Poe +and George D. Prentice. There are lawyers who play poker year after +year, and get regularly skinned, because they have heard that some of +the able lawyers of the past century used to come home at night with +poker chips in their pockets. + +Whisky will not make a poet, nor poker a great pleader. And yet I +have seen poets who relied solely on the potency of their breath, and +lawyers who knew more of the habits of a bob-tail flush than they ever +did of the statutes in such case made and provided. + +George Washington was always ready. If you wanted a man to be first +in war, you could call on George. If you desired an adult who would +be first baseman in time of peace, Mr. Washington could be telephoned +at any hour of the day or night. If you needed a man to be first in +the hearts of his countrymen, George’s postoffice address was at once +secured. + +Though he was a great man, he was once a poor boy. How often we hear +that in America! It is a place where it is a positive disadvantage to +be born wealthy. And yet, sometimes I wish they had experimented a +little that way on me. I do not ask now to be born rich, of course, +because it is too late; but it seems to me that, with my natural good +sense and keen insight into human nature, I could have struggled along +under the burdens and cares of wealth with great success. I do not care +to die wealthy, but if I could have been born wealthy, it seems to me +that I would have been tickled almost to death. + +I love to believe that true greatness is not accidental. To think and +to say that greatness is a lottery is pernicious. Man may be wrong +sometimes in his judgment of others, both individually and in the +aggregate, but he who gets ready to be a great man will surely find the +opportunity. + +Many who read the above paragraph will wonder who I got to write it for +me, but they will never find out. + +In conclusion, let me say that George Washington was successful for +three reasons. One was that he never shook the confidence of his +friends. Another was that he had a strong will without being a mule. +Some people cannot distinguish between being firm and being a big blue +jackass. + +Another reason why Washington is loved and honored today is that he +died before we had a chance to get tired of him. This is greatly +superior to the method adopted by many modern statesmen, who wait till +their constituency weary of them and then reluctantly and tardily die. + + + + +B. FRANKLIN, DECEASED + + +Benjamin Franklin, formerly of Boston, came very near being an only +child. If seventeen children had not come to bless the home of +Benjamin’s parents, they would have been childless. Think of getting +up in the morning and picking out your shoes and stockings from among +seventeen pairs of them. Imagine yourself a child, gentle reader, in a +family where you would be called upon, every morning, to select your +own cud of spruce gum from a collection of seventeen similar cuds +stuck on a window sill. And yet B. Franklin never murmured or repined. +He desired to go to sea, and to avoid this he was apprenticed to his +brother James, who was a printer. It is said that Franklin at once +took hold of the great Archimedean lever, and jerked it early and late +in the interests of freedom. It is claimed that Franklin at this time +invented the deadly weapon known as the printer’s towel. He found that +a common crash towel could be saturated with glue, molasses, antimony, +concentrated lye, and roller composition, and that after a few years of +time and perspiration it would harden so that the “Constant Reader” or +“Veritas” could be stabbed with it and die soon. + +Many believe that Franklin’s other scientific experiments were +productive of more lasting benefits to mankind than this, but I do not +agree with them. + +This paper was called the _New England Courant_. It was edited jointly +by James and Benjamin Franklin, and was started to supply a long-felt +want. Benjamin edited a part of the time and James a part of the time. +The idea of having two editors was not for the purpose of giving volume +to the editorial page, but it was necessary for one to run the paper +while the other was in jail. In those days you couldn’t sass the king, +and then, when the king came in the office the next day and stopped his +paper, and took out his ad., you couldn’t put it off on “our informant” +and go right along with the paper. You had to go to jail, while your +subscribers wondered why their paper did not come, and the paste soured +in the tin dippers in the sanctum, and the circus passed by on the +other side. + +How many of us today, fellow journalists, would be willing to stay in +jail while the lawn festival and the kangaroo came and went? Who, of +all our company, would go to a prison cell for the cause of freedom +while a double-column ad. of sixteen aggregated circuses, and eleven +congresses of ferocious beasts, fierce and fragrant from their native +lair, went by us? + +At the age of 17, Ben got disgusted with his brother, and went to +Philadelphia and New York, where he got a chance to “sub” for a few +weeks, and then got a regular “sit.” Franklin was a good printer, and +finally got to be a foreman. He made an excellent foreman, sitting +by the hour in the composing room and spitting on the stone while he +cussed the make-up and press work of the other papers. Then he would +go into the editorial rooms and scare the editors to death with a wild +shriek for more copy. He knew just how to conduct himself as a foreman, +so that strangers would think he owned the paper. + +In 1730, at the age of 24, Franklin married and established the +_Pennsylvania Gazette_. He was then regarded as a great man, and most +everyone took his paper. Franklin grew to be a great journalist, and +spelled hard words with great fluency. He never tried to be a humorist +in any of his newspaper work, and everybody respected him. + +Along about 1746 he began to study the construction and habits of +lightning, and inserted a local in his paper, in which he said that +he would be obliged to any of his readers who might notice any new or +odd specimens of lightning, if they would send them into the _Gazette_ +office by express for examination. Every time there was a thunder +storm, Franklin would tell the foreman to edit the paper, and, armed +with a string and an old fruit jar, he would go out on the hills and +get enough lightning for a mess. + +In 1753 Franklin was made postmaster-general of the colonies. He made +a good postmaster-general, and people say there were less mistakes +in distributing their mail than there have ever been since. If a man +mailed a letter in those days, old Ben Franklin saw that it went where +it was addressed. + +Franklin frequently went over to England in those days, partly on +business, and partly to shock the king. He used to delight in going +to the castle with his breeches tucked in his boots, figuratively +speaking, and attract a good deal of attention. It looked odd to the +English, of course, to see him come into the royal presence, and, +leaving his wet umbrella up against the throne, ask the king: “How’s +trade?” Franklin never put on any frills, but he was not afraid of a +crowned head. He used to say, frequently, that to him a king was no +more than a seven spot. + +He did his best to prevent the Revolutionary war, but he couldn’t do +it. Patrick Henry had said that the war was inevitable, and given +it permission to come, and it came. He also went to Paris and got +acquainted with a few crowned heads there. They thought a good deal of +him in Paris, and offered him a corner lot if he would build there and +start a paper. They also promised him the county printing, but he said +no, he would have to go back to America, or his wife might get uneasy +about him. + +Franklin wrote _Poor Richard’s Almanac_ in 1732-57, and it was +republished in England. Benjamin Franklin had but one son, and his +name was William. William was an illegitimate son, and though he lived +to be quite an old man, he never got over it entirely, but continued +to be but an illegitimate son all his life. Everybody urged him to do +differently, but he steadily refused to do so. + + + + +THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA + + +It was a beautiful evening at the close of a warm, luscious day in +old Spain. It was such an evening as one would select for trysting +purposes. The honeysuckle gave out the sweet announcement of its +arrival on the summer breeze, and the bulbul sang in the dark vistas of +the olive trees--sang of his love and his hope, and of the victory he +anticipated in the morrow’s bulbul fight, and the plaudits of the royal +couple who would be there. The pink west paled away to the touch of +twilight, and the soft zenith was sown with stars coming like celestial +fire-flies on the breast of a mighty meadow. + +Across the dusk, with bowed head, came a woman. Her air was one of +proud humility. It was the air of royalty in the presence of an +over-ruling power. It was Isabella. She was on her way to confession. +She carried a large, beautifully bound volume containing a memorandum +of her sins for the day. Ever and anon she would refer to it, but the +twilight had come on so fast that she could not read it. + +Reaching the confessional, she kneeled, and, by the aid of her notes, +she told off to the good Father and receptacle of the queen’s trifling +sins, Fernando de Talavera, how wicked she had been. When it was over +and the queen had risen to go, Fernando came forth, and with a solemn +obeisance said: + +“May it please your Majesty, I have today received a letter from my +good friend the prior of the Franciscan convent of St. Mary’s of Rabida +in Andalusia. With your Majesty’s permission, I will read it to you.” + +“Proceed,” exclaimed Isabella, gravely, taking a piece of crochet work +from her apron and seating herself comfortably near the dim light. + +“It is dated the sixth month and tenth day of the month, and reads as +follows: + +“‘Dear Brother: This letter will be conveyed into your hands by the +bearer hereof. His name is Christopher Columbus, a native of Genoa, who +has been living on me for two years. But he is a good man, devout and +honest. He is willing to work, but I have nothing to do in his line. +Times, as you know, are dull, and in his own profession nothing seems +to be doing. He is by profession a discoverer. He has been successful +in the work where he has had opportunities, and there has been no +complaint so far on the part of those who have employed him. Everything +he has ever discovered has remained that way, and he is willing to +let his work show for itself. Should you be able to bring this to the +notice of her Majesty, who is tender of heart, I would be most glad; +and should her most gracious Majesty have any discovering to be done, +or should she contemplate a change or desire to substitute another in +the place of the present discoverer, she will do well to consider the +qualifications of my friend. Very sincerely and fraternally thine, +etc., etc.’” + +The queen inquired still further regarding Columbus, and, taking the +letter, asked Talavera to send him to the royal sitting room at ten +o’clock the following day. + +When Columbus arose the next morning he found a note from the royal +confessor, and, without waiting for breakfast, for he had almost +overcome the habit of eating, he reversed his cuffs, and, taking a +fresh handkerchief from his valise and putting it in his pocket so that +the corner would coyly stick out a little, he was soon on his way to +the palace. He carried also a small globe wrapped up in a newspaper. + +The interview was encouraging until the matter of money necessary for +the trip was touched upon. His Majesty was called in, and spoke sadly +of the public deficit. He said that there were one hundred dollars +still due on his salary, and the palace had not been painted for eight +years. He had taken orders on the store till he was tired of it. “Our +meat bill,” said he, taking off his crown and mashing a hornet on the +wall, “is sixty days overdue. We owe the hired girl for three weeks; +and how are we going to get funds enough to do any discovering, when +you remember that we have got to pay for an extra session this fall for +the purpose of making money plenty?” + +But Isabella came and sat by him in her winning way, and with the +moistened corner of her handkerchief removed a spot of maple syrup +from the ermine trimming of his reigning gown. She patted his hand, +and, with her gentle voice, cheered him and told him that if he would +economize and go without cigars or wine, in less than two hundred years +he would have saved enough to fit Columbus out. + +A few weeks later he had saved one hundred and fifty dollars in this +way. The queen then went at twilight and pawned a large breast-pin, +and, although her chest was very sensitive to cold, she went without it +all the following winter, in order that Columbus might discover America +before immigration set in here. + +Too much cannot be said of the heroism of Queen Isabella and the +courage of her convictions. A man would have said, under such +circumstances, that there would be no sense in discovering a place that +was not popular. Why discover a place when it is so far out of the way? +Why discover a country with no improvements? Why discover a country +that is so far from the railroad? Why discover, at great expense, an +entirely new country? + +But Isabella did not stop to listen to these croaks. In the language of +the Honorable Jeremiah M. Rusk, “She seen her duty and she done it.” +That was Isabella’s style. + +Columbus now began to select steamer chairs and rugs. He had already +secured the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria, and on the 3rd of August, +1492, he sailed from Palos. + +Isabella brought him a large bunch of beautiful flowers as he was about +to sail, and Ferdinand gave him a nice yachting cap and a spicy French +novel to read on the road. + +He was given a commission as viceroy or governor of all the lands he +might discover, with hunting and shooting privileges on same. + +He stopped several weeks at the Canary Islands, where he and his one +hundred and twenty men rested and got fresh water. He then set out +sailing due west over an unknown sea to blaze the way for liberty. + +Soon, however, his men began to murmur. They began also to pick on +Columbus and occupy his steamer chair when he wanted to use it himself. +They got to making chalk marks on the deck and compelling him to pay a +shilling before he could cross them. Some claimed that they were lost +and that they had been sailing around for over a week in a circle, one +man stating that he recognized a spot in the sea that they had passed +eight times already. + +Finally they mutinied, and started to throw the great navigator +overboard, but he told them that if they would wait until the next +morning he would tell them a highly amusing story that he heard just +before he left Palos. + +Thus his life was saved, for early in the morning the cry of “Land ho!” +was heard, and America was discovered. + +A saloon was at once started, and the first step thus taken towards the +foundation of a republic. From that one little timid saloon, with its +family entrance, has sprung the magnificent and majestic machine which, +lubricated with spoils and driven by wind, gives to every American +today the right to live under a Government selected for him by men who +make that their business. + +Columbus discovered America several times after the 12th of October, +1492, and finally, while prowling about looking for more islands, +discovered South America near the mouth of the Orinoco. + +He was succeeded as governor by Francisco de Bobadilla, who sent him +back finally in chains. Thus we see that the great are not always +happy. There is no doubt that millions of people every year avoid many +discomforts by remaining in obscurity. + + + + +THE PURITANS + + +In the fall of 1620 the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth during a +disagreeable storm, and, noting the excellent opportunity for future +misery, began to erect a number of rude cabins. This party consisted +of one hundred and two people of a resolute character who wished to +worship God in a more extemporaneous manner than had been the custom in +the Church of England. + +They found that the Indians of Cape Cod were not ritualistic, and that +they were willing to dispose of inside lots at Plymouth on reasonable +terms, retaining, however, the right to use the lands for massacre +purposes from time to time. + +The Pilgrims were honest, and gave the Indians something for their land +in almost every instance, but they put a price upon it which has made +the Indian ever since a comparatively poor man. + +Half of this devoted band died before spring, and yet the idea of +returning to England did not occur to them. “No,” they exclaimed, “we +will not go back to London until we can go first-class, if we have to +stay here two hundred years.” + +During the winter they discovered why the lands had been sold to them +so low. The Indians of one tribe had died there of a pestilence the +year before, and so when the Pilgrims began to talk trade they did not +haggle over prices. + +In the early spring, however, they were surprised to hear the word +“Welcome” proceeding from the door-mat of Samoset, an Indian whose +chief was named Massasoit. A treaty was then made for fifty years, +Massasoit taking “the same.” + +Canonicus once sent to Governor Bradford a bundle of arrows tied up in +a rattlesnake’s skin. The Governor put them away in the pantry with his +other curios, and sent Canonicus a few bright new bullets and a little +dose of powder. That closed the correspondence. In those days there +were no newspapers, and most of the fighting was done without guarantee +or side bets. + +Money matters, however, were rather panicky at the time, and the people +were kept busy digging clams to sustain life in order to raise Indian +corn enough to give them sufficient strength to pull clams enough the +following winter to get them through till the next corn crop should +give them strength to dig for clams again. Thus a trip to London and +the Isle of Wight looked farther and farther away. + +After four years they numbered only one hundred and eighty-four, +counting immigration and all. The colony only needed, however, more +people and Eastern capital. + +It would be well to pause here and remember the annoyances connected +with life as a forefather. Possibly the reader has considered the +matter already. Imagine how nervous one may be waiting in the hall and +watching with a keen glance for the approach of the physician who is +to announce that one is a forefather. The amateur forefather of 1620 +must have felt proud yet anxious about the clam yield also, as each new +mouth opened on the prospect. + +Speaking of clams, it is said by some of the forefathers that the Cape +Cod menu did not go beyond codfish croquettes until the beginning of +the eighteenth century, when pie was added by act of legislature. + +Clams are not so restless if eaten without the brisket, which is said +to lie hard on the stomach. + +Salem and Charlestown were started by Governor Endicott, and Boston was +founded in 1630. To these various towns the Puritans flocked, and even +now one may be seen in ghostly garments on Thanksgiving Eve flitting +here and there turning off the gas in the parlor while the family are +at tea, in order to cut down expenses. + +Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay Colonies were united in 1692. + +Roger Williams, a bright young divine, was the first to interfere with +the belief that magistrates had the right to punish Sabbath breakers, +blasphemers, etc. He also was the first to utter the idea that a man’s +own conscience must be his own guide and not that of another. + +Among the Puritans there were several who had enlarged consciences, and +who desired to take in extra work for others who had no consciences and +were busy in the fields. They were always ready to give sixteen ounces +to the pound, and were honest, but they got very little rest on Sunday, +because they had to watch the Sabbath breaker all the time. + +It is said that the Puritans knocked what fun there was out of the +Indian. Did any one ever see an Indian smile since the landing of the +Pilgrims? + +Roger Williams was too liberal to be kindly received by the clergy, and +so he was driven out of the settlement. Finding that the Indians were +less rigid and kept open on Sundays, he took refuge among them (1636), +and before spring had gained eighteen pounds and converted Canonicus, +one of the hardest cases in New England and the first man to sit up +until after ten o’clock at night. Canonicus gave Roger the tract of +land on which Providence now stands. + +Mrs. Anne Hutchinson gave the Pilgrims trouble also. Having claimed +some special revelations and attempted to make a few remarks regarding +them, she was banished. + +Banishment, which meant a homeless life in a wild land, with no one but +the Indians to associate with, in those days, was especially annoying +to a good Christian woman, and yet it had its good points. It offered +a little religious freedom, which could not be had among those who +wanted it so much that they braved the billow and the wild beast, the +savage, the drouth, the flood, and the potato bug, to obtain it before +anybody else got a chance at it. Freedom is a good thing. + +Twenty years later the Quakers shocked every one by thinking a few +religious thoughts on their own hooks. The colonists executed four of +them, and before that tortured them at a great rate. + +During dull times and on rainy days it was a question among the +Puritans whether they would banish an old lady, bore holes with a +red-hot iron through a Quaker’s tongue, or pitch horseshoes. + + + + +NERO + + +Nero, who was a Roman emperor from 54 to 68 A. D., was said to have +been one of the most disagreeable monarchs to meet that Rome ever +had. He was a nephew of Caligula, the Emperor, on his mother’s side, +and a son of Dominitius Ahenobarbust, of St. Lawrence county. The +above was really Nero’s name, but in the year 50 A. D. his mother +married Claudius and her son adopted the name of Nero Claudius Cæsar +Drusus Germanicus. This name he was in the habit of wearing during +the cold weather, buttoned up in front. During the hot weather, Nero +was all the name he wore. In 53, Nero married Octavia, daughter of +Claudius, and went right to housekeeping. Nero and Octavia did not get +along first-rate. Nero soon wearied of his young wife and finally +transferred her to the New Jerusalem. + +In 54, Nero’s mother, by concealing the rightful heir to the throne +for several weeks and doctoring the returns, succeeded in getting the +steady job of Emperor for Nero at a good salary. + +His reign was quite stormy and several long, bloody wars were carried +on during that period. He was a good vicarious fighter and could +successfully hold a man’s coat all day, while the man went to the front +to get killed. He loved to go out riding over the battlefields, as soon +as it was safe, in his gorgeously bedizened band chariot and he didn’t +care if the wheels rolled in gore up to the hub, providing it was some +other man’s gore. It gave him great pleasure to drive about over the +field of carnage and gloat over the dead. Nero was not a great success +as an Emperor, but as a gloater he has no rival in history. + +Nero’s reign was characterized, also, by the great conflagration and +Roman fireworks of July, 64, by which two-thirds of the city of Rome +was destroyed. The Emperor was charged with starting this fire in order +to get the insurance on a stock of dry goods on Main street. + +Instead of taking off his crown, hanging it up in the hall, and helping +to put out the fire, as other Emperors have done time and again, Nero +took his violin upstairs and played, “I’ll Meet You When the Sun Goes +Down.” This occasioned a great deal of adverse criticism on the part +of those who opposed the administration. Several persons openly +criticized Nero’s policy and then died. + +A man in those days would put on his overcoat in the morning and tell +his wife not to keep dinner waiting. “I am going down town to criticize +the Emperor a few moments,” he would say. “If I do not get home in time +for dinner, meet me on the ‘evergreen shore.’” + +Nero, after the death of Octavia, married Poppea Sabina. She died +afterwards at her husband’s earnest solicitation. Nero did not care so +much about being a bridegroom, but the excitement of being a widower +always gratified and pleased him. + +He was a very zealous monarch and kept Rome pretty well stirred +up during his reign. If a man failed to show up anywhere on time, +his friends would look sadly at each other and say, “Alas, he has +criticized Nero.” + +A man could wrestle with the yellow fever, or the small-pox, or the +Asiatic cholera and stand a chance of recovery, but when he spoke +sarcastically of Nero, it was good-bye John. + +When Nero decided that a man was an offensive partisan, that man would +generally put up the following notice on his office door: + +“Gone to see the Emperor in relation to charge of offensive +partisanship. Meet me at the cemetery at 2 o’clock.” + +Finally, Nero overdid this thing and ran it into the ground. He did not +want to be disliked and so those who disliked him were killed. This +made people timid and muzzled the press a good deal. + +The Roman papers in those days were all on one side. They did not +dare to be fearless and outspoken, for fear that Nero would take out +his ad. So they would confine themselves to the statement that: “The +genial and urbane Afranius Burrhus painted his new and recherche +picket fence last week,” or “Our enterprising fellow townsman, Cæsar +Kersikes, will remove the tail of his favorite bulldog next week, if +the weather should be auspicious,” or “Miss Agrippina Bangoline, eldest +daughter of Romulus Bangoline, the great Roman rinkist, will teach the +school at Eupatorium, Trifoliatum Holler, this summer. She is a highly +accomplished young lady, and a good speller.” + +Nero got more and more fatal as he grew older, and finally the Romans +began to wonder whether he would not wipe out the Empire before he +died. His back yard was full all the time of people who had dropped in +to be killed, so that they could have it off their minds. + +Finally, Nero himself yielded to the great strain that had been placed +upon him and, in the midst of an insurrection in Gaul, Spain and Rome +itself, he fled and killed himself. + +The Romans were very grateful for Nero’s great crowning act in the +killing line, but they were dissatisfied because he delayed it so long, +and therefore they refused to erect a tall monument over his remains. +While they admired the royal suicide and regarded it as a success, they +censured Nero’s negligence and poor judgment in suiciding at the wrong +end of his reign. + +I have often wondered what Nero would have done if he had been Emperor +of the United States for a few weeks and felt as sensitive to +newspaper criticism as he seems to have been. Wouldn’t it be a picnic +to see Nero cross the Jersey ferry to kill off a few journalists who +had adversely criticized his course? The great violin virtuoso and +lightweight Roman tyrant would probably go home by return mail, wrapped +in tinfoil, accompanied by a note of regret from each journalist in +New York, closing with the remark that “in the midst of life we are in +death, therefore now is the time to subscribe.” + + + + +A SINGULAR “HAMLET” + + +The closing debut of that great Shakesperean humorist and emotional +ass, Mr. James Owen O’Connor, at the Star Theater, will never be +forgotten. During his extraordinary histrionic career he gave his +individual and amazing renditions of Hamlet, Phidias, Shylock, Othello, +and Richelieu. I think I liked his Hamlet best, and yet it was a +pleasure to see him in any thing wherein he killed himself. + +Encouraged by the success of beautiful but self-made actresses and +hoping to win a place for himself and his portrait in the great soap +and cigarette galaxy, Mr. O’Connor placed himself in the hands of some +misguided elocutionist, and then sought to educate the people of New +York and elocute them out of their thralldom up into the glorious light +of the O’Connor school of acting. + +The first week he was in the hands of critics, and they spoke quite +serenely of his methods. Later, it was deemed best to place his merits +in the hands of a man who would be on an equal footing with him. What +O’Connor wanted was one of his peers, who would therefore judge him +fairly. I was selected because I know nothing whatever about acting and +would thus be on an equality with Mr. O’Connor. + +After seeing his Hamlet I was of the opinion that he did wisely in +choosing New York for debutting purposes, for had he chosen Denver, +Colorado, at the end of the third act kind hands would have removed him +from the stage by means of benzine and a rag. + +I understand that Mr. O’Connor charged Messrs. Henry E. Abbey and +Henry Irving with using their influence among the masses in order to +prejudice said masses against Mr. O’Connor, thus making it unpleasant +for him to act, and inciting in the audience a feeling of gentle +but evident hostility, which Mr. O’Connor deprecated very much +whenever he could get a chance to do so. I looked into this matter a +little and I do not think it was true. Until almost the end of Mr. +O’Connor’s career, Messrs. Abbey and Irving were not aware of his great +metropolitan success, and it is generally believed among the friends +of the two latter gentlemen that they did not feel it so keenly as Mr. +O’Connor was led to suppose. + +But James Owen O’Connor did one thing which I take the liberty of +publicly alluding to. He took that saddest and most melancholy bit of +bloody history, trimmed with assassinations down the back and looped +up with remorse, insanity, duplicity and unrequited love, and he filled +it with silvery laughter and cauliflower and mirth, and various other +groceries which the audience threw in from time to time, thus making it +more of a spectacular piece than under the conservative management of +such old-school men as Booth, who seem to think that Hamlet should be +soaked full of sadness. + +I went to see Hamlet, thinking that I would be welcome, for my +sympathies were with James when I heard that Mr. Irving was picking on +him and seeking to injure him. I went to the box office and explained +who I was, and stated that I had been detailed to come and see Mr. +O’Connor act; also that in what I might say afterwards my instructions +were to give it to Abbey and Irving if I found that they had tampered +with the audience in any way. + +The man in the box office did not recognize me, but said that Mr. Fox +would extend to me the usual courtesies. I asked where Mr. Fox could +be found, and he said inside. I then started to go inside, but ran +against a total stranger, who was “on the door,” as we say. He was +feeding red and yellow tickets into a large tin oven, and looking far, +far away. I conversed with him in low, passionate tones, and asked +him where Mr. Fox could be found. He did not know, but thought he was +still in Europe. I went back and told the box office that Mr. Fox was +in Europe. He said no, I would find him inside. “Well, but how shall I +get inside?” I asked eagerly, for I could already, I fancied, hear the +orchestra beginning to twang its lyre. + +“Walk in,” said he, taking in $2 and giving back 50 cents in change to +a man with a dead cat in his overcoat pocket. + +I went back, and springing lightly over the iron railing while the +gatekeeper was thinking over his glorious past, I went all around over +the theater looking for Mr. Fox. I found him haggling over the price of +some vegetables which he was selling at the stage door and which had +been contributed by admirers and old subscribers to Mr. O’Connor at a +previous performance. + +When Mr. Fox got through with that I presented to him my card, which +is as good a piece of job work in colors as was ever done west of +the Missouri river, and to which I frequently point with pride. Mr. +Fox said he was sorry, but that Mr. O’Connor had instructed him to +extend no courtesies whatever to the press. The press, he claimed, +had said something derogatory to Mr. O’Connor as a tragedian, and +while he personally would be tickled to death to give me two divans +and a folding-bed near the large fiddle, he must do as Mr. O’Connor +had bid--or bade him, I forget which; and so, restraining his tears +with great difficulty, he sent me back to the entrance and although I +was already admitted in a general way, I went to the box office and +purchased a seat. I believe now that Mr. Fox thought he had virtually +excluded me from the house when he told me I should have to pay in +order to get in. + +I bought a seat in the parquet and went in. The audience was not large +and there were not more than a dozen ladies present. + +Pretty soon the orchestra began to ooze in through a little opening +under the stage. Then the overture was given. It was called “Egmont.” +The curtain now arose on a scene in Denmark. I had asked an usher to +take a note to Mr. O’Connor requesting an audience, but the boy had +returned with the statement that Mr. O’Connor was busy rehearsing his +soliloquy and removing a shirred egg from his outer clothing. + +He also said he could not promise an audience to any one. It was all he +could do to get one for himself. + +So the play went on. Elsinore, where the first act takes place, is +in front of a large stone water tank, where two gentlemen armed with +long-handled hay knives are on guard. + +All at once a ghost who walks with an overstrung Chickering action and +stiff, jerky, Waterbury movement, comes in, wearing a dark mosquito net +over his head--so that harsh critics can not truly say there are any +flies on him, I presume. When the ghost enters most every one enjoys +it. Nobody seems to be frightened at all. I knew it was not a ghost as +quick as I looked at it. One man in the gallery hit the ghost on the +head with a soda cracker, which made him jump and feel of his ear; so I +knew then that it was only a man made up to look like a presence. + +One of the guards, whose name, I think, was Smith, had a droop to his +legs and an instability about the knees which were highly enjoyable. +He walked like a frozen-toed hen, and stood first on one foot and then +on the other, with almost human intelligence. His support was about as +poor as O’Connor’s. + +After awhile the ghost vanished with what is called a stately tread, +but I would regard it more as a territorial tread. Horatio did quite +well, and the audience frequently listened to him. Still, he was +about the only one who did not receive crackers or cheese as a slight +testimonial of regard from admirers in the audience. Finally, Mr. James +Owen O’Connor entered. It was fully five minutes before he could be +heard, and even then he could not. His mouth moved now and then, and a +gesture would suddenly burst forth, but I did not hear what he said. At +least I could not hear distinctly what he said. After awhile, as people +got tired and went away, I could hear better. + +Mr. O’Connor introduced into his Hamlet a set of gestures evidently +intended for another play. People who are going to act out on the stage +can not be too careful in getting a good assortment of gestures that +will fit the play itself. James had provided himself with gestures +that might do for Little Eva, or “Ten Nights in a Bar-room,” but they +did not fit Hamlet. There is where he makes a mistake. Hamlet is a man +whose victuals don’t agree with him. He feels depressed and talks about +sticking a bodkin into himself, but Mr. O’Connor gives him a light, +elastic step, and an air of persiflage, bonhomie, and frisk, which do +not match the character. + +Mr. O’Connor sought in his conception and interpretation of Hamlet to +give it a free and jaunty Kokomo flavor--a nameless twang of tansy and +dried apples, which Shakespeare himself failed to sock into his great +drama. + +There is really a good lesson to be learned from the pitiful and +pathetic tale of James Owen O’Connor. Injudicious friends, doubtless, +overestimated his value, and unduly praised his Smart Aleckutionary +powers. Loving himself unwisely but too extensively, he was led away +into the great, untried purgatory of public scrutiny, and the general +indictment followed. + +The truth stands out brighter and stronger than ever that there is +no cut across lots to fame or success. He who seeks to jump from +mediocrity to a glittering triumph over the heads of the patient +student, and the earnest, industrious candidate who is willing to bide +his time, gets what James Owen O’Connor received--the just condemnation +of those who are abundantly able to judge. + +In seeking to combine the melancholy beauty of Hamlet’s deep and +earnest pathos with the gentle humor of “A Hole in the Ground,” Mr. +O’Connor evidently corked himself, as we say at the Browning Club, and +it was but justice after all. Before we curse the condemnation of the +people and the press, let us carefully and prayerfully look ourselves +over, and see if we have not overestimated ourselves. + +There are many men alive today who do not dare say anything without +first thinking how it will read in their memoirs--men whom we can not, +therefore, thoroughly enjoy until they are dead, and yet whose graves +will be kept green only so long as the appropriation lasts. + + + + +THE DUBIOUS FUTURE + + +Without wishing to alarm the American people, or create a panic, I +desire briefly and seriously to discuss the great question, “Whither +are we drifting, and what is to be the condition of the coming man?” +We can not shut our eyes to the fact that mankind is passing through +a great era of change; even womankind is not built as she was a few +brief years ago. And is it not time, fellow citizens, that we pause to +consider what is to be the future of the American? + +Food itself has been the subject of change both in the matter of +material and preparation. This must affect the consumer in such a way +as to some day bring about great differences. Take, for instance, the +oyster, one of our comparatively modern food and game fishes, and watch +the effects of science upon him. At one time the oyster browsed around +and ate what he could find in Neptune’s backyard, and we had to eat +him as we found him. Now we take a herd of oysters off the trail, all +run down, and feed them artificially till they swell up to a fancy +size and bring a fancy price. Where will this all lead at last, I ask +as a careful scientist? Instead of eating apples, as Adam did, we work +the fruit up into apple-jack and pie, while even the simple oyster is +perverted, and instead of being allowed to fatten up in the fall on +acorns and ancient mariners, spurious flesh is put on his bones by the +artificial osmose and dialysis of our advanced civilization. How can +you make an oyster stout or train him down by making him jerk a health +lift so many hours every day, or cultivate his body at the expense of +his mind, without ultimately not only impairing the future usefulness +of the oyster himself, but at the same time affecting the future of the +human race who feed upon him? + +I only use the oyster as an illustration, and I do not wish to cause +alarm, but I say that if we stimulate the oyster artificially and swell +him up by scientific means, we not only do so at the expense of his +better nature and keep him away from his family, but we are making our +mark on the future race of men. Oyster-fattening is now, of course, +in its infancy. Only a few years ago an effort was made at St. Louis +to fatten cove oysters while in the can, but the system was not well +understood, and those who had it in charge only succeeded in making +the can itself more plump. But now oysters are kept on ground feed and +given nothing to do for a few weeks, and even the older and overworked +sway-backed and rickety oysters of the dim and murky past are made +to fill out, and many of them have to put a gore in the waistband of +their shells. I only speak of the oyster incidentally, as one of the +objects toward which science has turned its attention, and I assert +with the utmost confidence that the time will come, unless science +should get a setback, when the present hunting-case oyster will give +place to the open-face oyster, grafted on the octopus and big enough +to feed a hotel. Further than that, the oyster of the future will +carry in a hip-pocket a flask of vinegar, half a dozen lemons and two +little Japanese bottles, one of which will contain salt and the other +pepper, and there will be some way provided by which you can tell which +is which. But are we improving the oyster now? That is a question we +may well ask ourselves. Is this a healthy fat which we are putting on +him, or is it bloat? And what will be the result in the home life of +the oyster? We take him from all domestic influences whatever in order +to make a swell of him by our modern methods, but do we improve his +condition morally, and what is to be the great final result on man? + +The reader will see by the questions I ask that I am a true scientist. +Give me an overcoat pocket full of lower-case interrogation points and +a medical report to run to, and I can speak on the matter of science +and advancement till Reason totters on her throne. + +But food and oysters do not alone affect the great, pregnant future. +Our race is being tampered with not only by means of adulterations, +political combinations and climatic changes, but even our methods +of relaxation are productive of peculiar physical conditions, +malformations and some more things of the same kind. + +Cigarette smoking produces a flabby and endogenous condition of the +optic nerve, and constant listening at a telephone, always with the +same ear, decreases the power of the other ear till it finally just +stands around drawing its salary, but actually refusing to hear +anything. Carrying an eight-pound cane makes a man lopsided, and the +muscular and nervous strain that is necessary to retain a single +eyeglass in place and keep it out of the soup, year after year, draws +the mental stimulus that should go to the thinker itself, until at last +the mind wanders away and forgets to come back, or becomes atrophied, +and the great mental strain incident to the work of pounding sand or +coming in when it rains is more than it is equal to. + +Playing billiards, accompanied by the vicious habit of pounding on the +floor with the butt end of the cue ever and anon, produces at last +optical illusions, phantasmagoria and visions of pink spiders with +navy-blue abdomens. Baseball is not alone highly injurious to the +umpire, but it also induces crooked fingers, bone spavin and hives +among habitual players. Jumping the rope induces heart disease. Poker +is unduly sedentary in its nature. Bicycling is highly injurious, +especially to skittish horses. Boating induces malaria. Lawn tennis can +not be played in the house. Archery is apt to be injurious to those who +stand around and watch the game, and pugilism is a relaxation that jars +heavily on some natures. + +Football produces what may be called the endogenous or ingrowing +toenail, stringhalt and mania. Copenhagen induces a melancholy, and +the game of bean bag is unduly exciting. Horse racing is too brief +and transitory as an outdoor game, requiring weeks and months for +preparation and lasting only long enough for a quick person to +ejaculate “Scat!” The pitcher’s arm is a new disease, the outgrowth of +baseball; the lawn tennis elbow is another result of a popular open +air amusement, and it begins to look as though the coming American +would hear with one overgrown telephonic ear, while the other will be +rudimentary only. He will have an abnormal baseball arm with a lawn +tennis elbow, a powerful football kicking leg with the superior toe +driven back into the palm of his foot. He will have a highly trained +biceps muscle over his eye to retain his glass, and that eye will be +trained to shoot a curved glance over a high hat and witness anything +on the stage. + +Other features will grow abnormal, or shrink from the lack of use, as +a result of our customs. For instance, the man whose business is to +get along a crowded street with the utmost speed will have, finally, +a hard, sharp horn growing on each elbow, and a pair of spurs growing +out of each ankle. These will enable him to climb over a crowd and get +there early. Constant exposure to these weapons on the part of the +pedestrian will harden the walls of the thorax and abdomen until the +coming man will be an impervious man. The citizen who avails himself of +all modern methods of conveyance will ride from his door on the horse +car to the elevated station, where an elevator will elevate him to the +train and a revolving platform will swing him on board, or possibly the +street car will be lifted from the surface track to the elevated track, +and the passenger will retain his seat all the time. Then a man will +simply hang out a red card, like an express card, at his door, and a +combination car will call for him, take him to the nearest elevated +station, elevate him, car and all, to the track, take him where he +wants to go, and call for him at any hour of the night to bring him +home. He will do his exercising at home, chiefly taking artificial sea +baths, jerking a rowing machine or playing on a health lift till his +eyes hang out on his cheeks, and he need not do any walking whatever. +In that way the coming man will be over-developed above the legs, and +his lower limbs will look like the desolate stems of a frozen geranium. +Eccentricities of limb will be handed over like baldness from father to +son among the dwellers in the cities, where every advantage in the way +of rapid transit is to be had, until a metropolitan will be instantly +picked out by his able digestion and rudimentary legs, just as we +now detect the gentleman from the interior by his wild endeavors to +overtake an elevated train. + +In fact, Mr. Edison has now perfected, or announced that he is on +the road to the perfection of, a machine which I may be pardoned for +calling a storage think-tank. This will enable a man to sit at home, +and, with an electric motor and a perfected phonograph, he can think +into a tin dipper or funnel, which will, by the aid of electricity and +a new style of foil, record and preserve his ideas on a sheet of soft +metal, so that when anyone says to him, “A penny for your thoughts,” he +can go to his valise and give him a piece of his mind. Thus the man +who has such wild and beautiful thoughts in the night and can never +hold on to them long enough to turn on the gas and get his writing +materials, can set this thing by the head of his bed, and, when the +poetic thought comes to him in the stilly night, he can think into a +hopper, and the genius of Franklin and Edison together will enable him +to fire it back at his friends in the morning while they eat their +pancakes and glucose syrup from Vermont, or he can mail the sheet of +tinfoil to absent friends, who may put it into their phonographs and +utilize it. In this way the world may harness the gray matter of its +best men, and it will be no uncommon thing to see a dozen brainy men +tied up in a row in the back office of an intellectual syndicate, +dropping pregnant thoughts into little electric coffee mills for a +couple of hours a day, after which they can put on their coats, draw +their pay, and go home. + +All this will reduce the quantity of exercise, both mental and +physical. Two men with good brains could do the thinking for 60,000,000 +of people and feel perfectly fresh and rested the next day. Take +four men, we will say, two to do the day thinking and two more to +go on deck at night, and see how much time the rest of the world +would have to go fishing. See how politics would become simplified. +Conventions, primaries, bargains and sales, campaign bitterness and +vituperation--all might be wiped out. A pair of political thinkers +could furnish 100,000,000 of people with logical conclusions enough +to last them through the campaign and put an unbiased opinion into a +man’s house each day, for less than he now pays for gas. Just before +election you could go into your private office, throw in a large dose +of campaign whisky, light a campaign cigar, fasten your button-hole +to the wall by an elastic band, so that there would be a gentle pull +on it, and turn the electricity on your mechanical thought supply. It +would save time and money, and the result would be the same as it is +now. This would only be the beginning, of course, and after a while +every qualified voter who did not feel like exerting himself so much, +need only give his name and proxy to the salaried thinker employed by +the National Think Retort and Supply Works. We talk a great deal about +the union of church and state, but that is not so dangerous, after all, +as the mixture of politics and independent thought. Will the coming +voter be an automatic, legless, hairless mollusk with an abnormal ear +constantly glued to the tube of a big tank full of symmetrical ideas +furnished by a national bureau of brains in the employ of the party in +power? + + + + +A THRILLING EXPERIENCE + + +I had a very thrilling experience the other evening. I had just filled +an engagement in a strange city and retired to my cozy room at the +hotel. + +The thunders of applause had died away, and the opera house had been +locked up to await the arrival of an Uncle Tom’s Cabin company. The +last loiterer had returned to his home and the lights in the palace of +the pork packer were extinguished. + +No sound was heard, save the low, tremulous swash of the sleet outside, +or the death-rattle in the throat of the bathtub. Then all was still as +the bosom of a fried chicken when the spirit has departed. + +The swallow-tail coat hung limp and weary in the wardrobe, and the +gross receipts of the evening were under my pillow. I needed sleep, for +I was worn out with travel and anxiety, but the fear of being robbed +kept me from repose. I know how desperate a man becomes when he yearns +for another’s gold. I know how cupidity drives a wicked man to mangle +his victim, that he may win precarious prosperity, and how he will +often take a short cut to wealth by means of murder when, if he would +enter politics, he might accomplish his purpose as surely and much more +safely. + +Anon, however, tired nature succumbed. I know I had succumbed, for the +bell boy afterward testified that he heard me do so. + +The gentle warmth of the steam-heated room, and the comforting +assurance of duty well done and the approval of friends, at last lulled +me into a gentle repose. + +Anyone who might have looked upon me, as I lay there in that innocent +slumber, with the winsome mouth slightly ajar and the playful limbs +cast wildly about, while a merry smile now and then flitted across the +regular features, would have said that no heart could be so hard as to +harbor ill for one so guileless and so simple. + +I do not know what it was that caused me to wake. Some slight sound or +other, no doubt, broke my slumber and I opened my eyes wildly. The room +was in semi-darkness. + +Hark! + +A slight movement in the corner, and the low, regular breathing of a +human being! I was now wide awake. Possibly I could have opened my eyes +wider, but not without spilling them out of their sockets. + +Regularly came that soft, low breathing. Each time it seemed like a +sigh of relief, but it did not relieve me. Evidently it was not done +for that purpose. It sounded like a sigh of blessed relief, such as a +woman might heave after she has returned from church and transferred +herself from the embrace of her new Russia iron, black silk dress into +a friendly wrapper. + +Regularly, like the rise and fall of a wave on the summer sea, it rose +and fell, while my pale lambrequin of hair rose and fell fitfully with +it. + +I know that people who read this will laugh at it, but there was +nothing to laugh at. At first I feared that the sigh might be that of a +woman who had entered the room through a transom in order to see me, as +I lay wrapt in slumber, and then carry the picture away to gladden her +whole life. + +But no. That was hardly possible. It was cupidity that had driven some +cruel villain to enter my apartments and to crouch in the gloom till +the proper moment should come in which to spring upon me, throttle me, +crowd a hotel pillow into each lung, and, while I did the Desdemona +act, rob me of my hard-earned wealth. + +Regularly still rose the soft breathing, as though the robber might be +trying to suppress it. I reached gently under my pillow, and securing +the money I put it in the pocket of my _robe de nuit_. Then, with great +care, I pulled out a copy of Smith & Wesson’s great work on “How to +Ventilate the Human Form.” I said to myself that I would sell my life +as dearly as possible, so that whoever bought it would always regret +the trade. + +Then I opened the volume at the first chapter and addressed a +thirty-eight calibre remark in the direction of the breath in the +corner. + +When the echoes had died away a sigh of relief welled up from the dark +corner. Also another sigh of relief later on. + +I then decided to light the gas and fight it out. You have no doubt +seen a man scratch a match on the leg of his pantaloons. Perhaps you +have also seen an absent-minded man undertake to do so, forgetting that +his pantaloons were hanging in a chair at the other end of the room. + +However, I lit the gas with my left hand and kept my revolver pointed +toward the dark corner where the breath was still rising and falling. + +People who had heard my lecture came rushing in, hoping to find that I +had suicided, but they found that, instead of humoring the public in +that way, I had shot the valve off the steam radiator. + +It is humiliating to write the foregoing myself, but I would rather do +so than have the affair garbled by careless hands. + + + + +A RESIGN + + + Postoffice Divan, Laramie City, W. T., + Oct. 1, 1883. + + To the President of the United States: + +Sir.--I beg leave at this time to officially tender my resignation as +postmaster at this place, and in due form to deliver the great seal and +the key to the front door of the office. The safe combination is set +on the numbers 36, 66 and 99, though I do not remember at this moment +which comes first, or how many times you revolve the knob, or which +direction you should turn it first in order to make it operate. + +There is some mining stock in my private drawer in the safe, which I +have not yet removed. This stock you may have, if you desire it. It is +a luxury, but you may have it. I have decided to keep a horse instead +of this mining stock. The horse may not be so pretty, but it will cost +less to keep him. + +You will find the postal cards that have not been used under the +distributing table, and the coal down in the cellar. If the stove draws +too hard, close the damper in the pipe and shut the general delivery +window. + +Looking over my stormy and eventful administration as postmaster here, +I find abundant cause for thanksgiving. At the time I entered upon +the duties of my office the department was not yet on a paying basis. +It was not even self-sustaining. Since that time, with the active +cooperation of the chief executive and the heads of the department, I +have been able to make our postal system a paying one, and on top of +that I am now able to reduce the tariff on average-sized letters from +three cents to two. I might add that this is rather too too, but I will +not say anything that might seem undignified in an official resignation +which is to become a matter of history. + +Through all the vicissitudes of a tempestuous term of office I have +safely passed. I am able to turn over the office today in a highly +improved condition and to present a purified and renovated institution +to my successor. + +Acting under the advice of Gen. Hatton, a year ago, I removed the +feather bed with which my predecessor, Deacon Hayford, had bolstered +up his administration by stuffing the window, and substituted glass. +Finding nothing in the book of instructions to postmasters which made +the feather bed a part of my official duties, I filed it away in an +obscure place and burned it in effigy, also in the gloaming. This act +maddened my predecessor to such a degree that he then and there became +a candidate for justice of the peace on the Democratic ticket. The +Democratic party was able, however, with what aid it secured from the +Republicans, to plow the old man under to a great degree. + +It was not long after I had taken my official oath before an era of +unexampled prosperity opened for the American people. The price of beef +rose to a remarkable altitude, and other vegetables commanded a good +figure and a ready market. We then began to make active preparations +for the introduction of the strawberry roan two-cent stamps and the +black-and-tan postal note. One reform has crowded upon the heels of +another, until the country is today upon the foam-crested wave of +permanent prosperity. + +Mr. President, I cannot close this letter without thanking yourself +and the heads of departments at Washington for your active, cheery +and prompt cooperation in these matters. You can do as you see fit, +of course, about incorporating this idea into your Thanksgiving +proclamation, but rest assured it would not be ill-timed or +inopportune. It is not alone a credit to myself. It reflects credit +upon the administration also. + +I need not say that I herewith transmit my resignation with great +sorrow and genuine regret. We have toiled on together month after +month, asking for no reward except the innate consciousness of +rectitude and the salary as fixed by law. Now we are to separate. Here +the roads seem to fork, as it were, and you and I, and the cabinet, +must leave each other at this point. + +You will find the key under the door-mat, and you had better turn +the cat out at night when you close the office. If she does not go +readily, you can make it clearer to her mind by throwing the cancelling +stamp at her. + +If Deacon Hayford does not pay up his box rent, you might as well +put his mail in the general delivery, and when Bob Head gets drunk +and insists on a letter from one of his wives every day in the week, +you can salute him through the box delivery with an old Queen Anne +tomahawk, which you will find near the Etruscan water pail. This will +not in any manner surprise either of these parties. + +Tears are unavailing. I once more become a private citizen, clothed +only with the right to read such postal cards as may be addressed to me +personally, and to curse the inefficiency of the postoffice department. +I believe the voting class to be divided into two parties, viz.: Those +who are in the postal service, and those who are mad because they +cannot receive a registered letter every fifteen minutes of each day, +including Sunday. + +Mr. President, as an official of this government I now retire. My term +of office would not expire until 1886. I must, therefore, beg pardon +for my eccentricity in resigning. It will be best, perhaps, to keep the +heart-breaking news from the ears of European powers until the dangers +of a financial panic are fully past. Then hurl it broadcast with a +sickening thud. + + + + +A GUEST AT THE LUDLOW + + +We are stopping quietly here, taking our meals in our rooms mostly, and +going out very little indeed. When I say we, I use the term editorially. + +We notice first of all the great contrast between this and other +hotels, and in several instances this one is superior. In the first +place, there is a sense of absolute security when one goes to sleep +here that can not be felt at a popular hotel, where burglars secrete +themselves in the wardrobe during the day and steal one’s pantaloons +and contents at night. This is one of the compensations of life in +prison. + +Here the burglars go to bed at the hour that the rest of us do. We all +retire at the same time, and a murderer can not sit up any later at +night than the smaller or unknown criminal can. + +You can get to Ludlow Street Jail by taking the Second Avenue elevated +train to Grand Street and then going east two blocks, or you can fire a +shotgun into a Sabbath school. + +You can pay five cents to the Elevated Railroad and get here, or you +can put some other man’s nickel in your own slot and come here with an +attendant. + +William Marcy Tweed was the contractor of Ludlow Street Jail and here +also he died. He was the son of a poor chairmaker and was born April 3, +1823. From the chair business in 1853 to congress was the first false +step. Exhilarated by the delirium of official life, and the false joys +of franking his linen home every week, and having cake and preserves +franked back to him at Washington, he resolved to still further +taste the delights of office, and in 1857 we find him as a school +commissioner. + +In 1860 he became Grand Sachem of the Tammany Society, an association +at that time more purely political than politically pure. As president +of the board of supervisors, head of the department of public works, +state senator, and Grand Sachem of Tammany, Tweed had a large and +seductive influence over the city and state. The story of how he earned +a scanty livelihood by stealing a million at a pop, and thus, with the +most rigid economy, scraped together $20,000,000 in a few years by +patient industry and smoking plug tobacco, has been frequently told. + +Tweed was once placed here in Ludlow Street Jail in default of +$3,000,000 bail. How few there are of us who could slap up that amount +of bail if rudely gobbled on the street by the hand of the law. While +riding out with the sheriff, in 1875, Tweed asked to see his wife, and +said he would be back in a minute. + +He came back by way of Spain, in the fall of ’76, looking much +improved. But the malaria and dissipation of Blackwell’s Island +afterwards impaired his health, and having done time there, and having +been arrested afterwards and placed in Ludlow Street Jail, he died here +April 12, 1878, leaving behind him a large, vain world, and an equally +vain judgment for $6,537,117.38, to which he said he would give his +attention as soon as he could get a paving contract in the sweet +ultimately. + +From the exterior Ludlow Street Jail looks somewhat like a conservatory +of music, but as soon as one enters he readily discovers his mistake. +The structure has 100 feet frontage, and a court, which is sometimes +called the court of last resort. The guest can climb out of this court +by ascending a polished brick wall about 100 feet high and then letting +himself down in a similar way on the Ludlow street side. + +That one thing is doing a great deal towards keeping quiet a number of +people here who would otherwise, I think, go away. + +James D. Fish and Ferdinand Ward both remained here prior to their +escape to Sing Sing. Red Leary also made his escape from this point but +did not succeed in reaching the penitentiary. Forty thousand prisoners +have been confined in Ludlow Street Jail, mostly for civil offenses. A +man in New York runs a very short career if he tries to be offensively +civil. + +As you enter Ludlow Street Jail the door is carefully closed after +you and locked by means of an iron lock about the size of a pictorial +family Bible. You then remain on the inside for quite a spell. You +do not hear the prattle of soiled children any more. All the glad +sunlight, and stench-condensing pavements, and dark-haired inhabitants +of Rivington street, are seen no longer, and the heavy iron storm door +shuts out the wail of the combat from the alley nearby. Ludlow Street +Jail may be surrounded by a very miserable and dirty quarter of the +city, but when you get inside all is changed. + +You register first. There is a good pen there that you can write with, +and the clerk does not chew tolu and read a sporting paper while you +wait for a room. He is there to attend to business, and he attends to +it. He does not seem to care whether you have any baggage or not. You +can stay here for days, even if you don’t have any baggage. All you +need is a kind word and a mittimus from the court. + +One enters this sanitarium either as a boarder or a felon. If you +decide to come in as a boarder, you pay the warden $15 a week for +the privileges of sitting at his table and eating the luxuries of +the market. You also get a better room than at many hotels, and you +have a good strong door, with a padlock on it, which enables you to +prevent the sudden and unlooked-for entrance of the chambermaid. It +is a good-sized room, with a wonderful amount of seclusion, a plain +bed, table, chairs, carpet and so forth. After a few weeks at the +seaside, at $19 per day, I think the room in which I am writing is not +unreasonable at $2. + +Still, of course, we miss the sea breeze. + +You can pay $50 to $100 per week here if you wish, and get your money’s +worth, too. For the latter sum one may live in the bridal chamber, so +to speak, and eat the very best food all the time. + +Heavy iron bars keep the mosquitoes out, and at night the house +is lighted by incandescent lights of one-candle power each. Neat +snuffers, consisting of the thumb and forefinger polished on the hair, +are to be found in each occupied room. + +Bread is served to the Freshmen and Juniors in rectangular wads. It is +such bread as convicts’ tears have moistened many thousand years. In +that way it gets quite moist. + +The most painful feature about life in Ludlow Street Jail is the +confinement. One can not avoid a feeling of being constantly hampered +and hemmed in. + +One more disagreeable thing is the great social distinction here. +The poor man who sleeps in a stone niche near the roof, and who is +constantly elbowed and hustled out of his bed by earnest and restless +vermin with a tendency toward insomnia, is harassed by meeting in the +courtyard and corridors the paying boarders who wear good clothes, live +well, have their cigars, brandy and Kentucky Sec all the time. + +The McAllister crowd here is just as exclusive as it is on the outside. + +But, great Scott! what a comfort it is to a man like me, who has been +nearly killed by a cyclone, to feel the firm, secure walls and solid +time lock when he goes to bed at night! Even if I can not belong to the +400, I am almost happy. + +We retire at 7:30 o’clock at night and arise at 6:30 in the morning, so +as to get an early start. A man who has five or ten years to stay in a +place like this naturally likes to get at it as soon as possible each +day, and so he gets up at 6:30. + +We dress by the gaudy light of the candle, and while we do so, we +remember far away at home our wife and the little boy asleep in her +arms. They do not get up at 6:30. It is at this hour we remember the +fragrant drawer in the dresser at home where our clean shirts, and +collars and cuffs, and socks and handkerchiefs, are put every week by +our wife. We also recall as we go about our stone den, with its odor of +former corned beef, and the ghost of some bloody-handed predecessor’s +snore still moaning in the walls, the picture of green grass by our own +doorway, and the apples that were just ripening when the bench warrant +came. + +The time from 6:30 to breakfast is occupied by the average, or +non-paying inmate, in doing the chamber work and tidying up his +state-room. I do not know how others feel about it, but I dislike +chamber work most heartily, especially when I am in jail. Nothing has +done more to keep me out of jail, I guess, than the fact that while +there I have to make up my bed and dust the piano. + +Breakfast is generally table d’hote and consists of bread. A tincup of +coffee takes the taste of the bread out of your mouth, and then if you +have some Limburger cheese in your pocket you can with that remove the +taste of the coffee. + +Dinner is served at 12 o’clock and consists of more bread with soup. +This soup has everything in it except nourishment. The bead on this +soup is noticeable for quite a distance. It is disagreeable. Several +days ago I heard that the Mayor was in the soup, but I didn’t realize +it before. I thought it was a newspaper yarn. There is everything in +this soup, from shop-worn rice up to neat’s-foot oil. Once I thought I +detected cuisine in it. + +The dinner menu is changed on Fridays, Sundays and Thursdays, on which +days you get the soup first and the bread afterwards. In this way the +bread is saved. + +Three days in a week each man gets at dinner a potato containing +a thousand-legged worm. At 6 o’clock comes supper with toast and +responses. Bread is served at supper time, together with a cup of tea. +To those who dislike bread and never eat soup, or do not drink tea or +coffee, life at Ludlow Street Jail is indeed irksome. + +I asked for kumiss and a pony of Benedictine, as my stone boudoir made +me feel rocky, but it has not yet been sent up. + +Somehow, while here, I can not forget poor old man Dorrit, the Master +of the Marshalsea, and how the Debtors’ Prison preyed upon his mind +till he didn’t enjoy anything except to stand off and admire himself. +Ludlow Street Jail is a good deal like it in many ways, and I can see +how in time the canker of unrest and the memories of those who did us +wrong but who are basking in the bright and bracing air, while we, to +meet their obligations, sacrifice our money, our health and at last our +minds, would kill hope and ambition. + +Before closing this brief and incomplete account as a guest at Ludlow +Street Jail I ought, in justice to my family, to say, perhaps, that I +came down this morning to see a friend of mine who is here because he +refuses to pay alimony to his recreant and morbidly sociable wife. He +says he is quite content to stay here, so long as his wife is on the +outside. He is writing a small ready-reference book on his side of the +great problem, “Is Marriage a Failure?” + +With this I shake him by the hand and in a moment the big iron storm +door clangs behind me, the big lock clicks in its hoarse, black throat +and I welcome even the air of Ludlow street so long as the blue sky is +above it. + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber’s note + + +Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. Hyphenation +was standardized. + +Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following +change: + + Page 30: “townsman, Caesar Kersikes” “townsman, Cæsar Kersikes” + Page 32: “After seing his Hamlet” “After seeing his Hamlet” + Page 58: “chamberwork most heartily” “chamber work most heartily” + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78694 *** |