Chapter 6
Our opinion, already recorded, is that if Keats had spent fifteen or twenty minutes more on his Grecian Urn, all of the stanzas would be as good as three of them. And so we think that if A. B. had put in, say, a half hour more on her sonnet she would not have rhymed "worldliness" and "moodiness." Of the harmony, counterpoint, thoroughbass, etc., of verse we know next to nothing--we play on _our_ tin whistle entirely by ear--but there are things which we avoid, perhaps needlessly. One of these is the rhyming of words like utterly, monody, lethargy, etc.; these endings seem weak when they are bunched. Our assistants will apprehend that we are merely offering a suggestion or two, which we hope they will follow up by exploring the authorities.
* * *
Music like Brahms' Second Symphony is peculiarly satisfying to the listener. The first few measures disclose that the composer is in complete control of his ideas and his expression of them. He has something to say, and he says it without uncertainty or redundancy. Only a man who _has_ something to say may dare to say it only once.
* * *
Those happy beings who "don't know a thing about art, but know what they like," are restricted to the obvious because of ignorance of form; their enjoyment ends where that of the cultivated person begins. Take music. The person who knows what he likes takes his pleasure in the tune, but gets little or nothing from the tune's development; hence his favorite music is music which is all tune.
We recall a naïve query by the publisher of a magazine, at a musicale in Gotham. Our hostess, an accomplished pianist, had played a Chopin Fantasia, and the magazine man was expressing his qualified enjoyment. "What I can't understand," said he, "is why the tune quits just when it's running along nicely." This phenomenon, no doubt, has mystified thousands of other "music lovers."
* * *
A Boston woman complains that school seats have worn out three pairs of pants (her son's) in three months. "Is a wheeze about the seat of learning too obvious?" queries Genevieve. Oh, quite too, my dear!
* * *
Mr. Frederick Harrison at 89 observes: "May my end be early, speedy, and peaceful! I regret nothing done or said in my long and busy life. I withdraw nothing, and, as I said before, am not conscious of any change in mind. In youth I was called a revolutionary; in old age I am called a reactionary; both names alike untrue.... I ask nothing. I seek nothing. I fear nothing. I have done and said all that I ever could have done and said. There is nothing more. I am ready, and await the call."
A very good prose version of Henley's well known poem. As for regretting nothing, a man at forty would be glad to unsay and undo many things. At seventy, and decidedly at eighty-nine, these things have so diminished in importance that it is not worth while withdrawing them.
* * *
A DAY WITH LORD DID-MORE.
"_Mr. Hearst is the home brew; no other hope._" --_The Trib._
At his usual hour Lord Did-More rose-- Renewed completely by repose-- His pleasant duty to rehearse Of oiling up the universe.
Casting a glance aloft, he saw That, yielding to a natural law, The sun obediently moved Precisely as he had approved.
If mundane things would only run As regularly as the Sun! But Earth's affairs, less nicely planned, Require Lord Did-More's guiding hand.
This day, outside Lord Did-More's door, There waited patiently a score Of diplomats from far and near Who sought his sympathetic ear.
Each brought to him, that he might scan, The latest governmental plan, And begged of him a word or two Approving what it hoped to do.
Lord Did-More nodded, smiled or frowned, Some word of praise or censure found, Withheld or added his "O. K." And sent the ministers away.
These harmonized and sent away, Lord Did-More finished up his day By focusing his cosmic brain On our political campaign.
And night and morning, thro' the land, The public prints at his command Proclaimed, in type that fairly burst, The doughty deeds of Did-More Hearst.
* * *
THE SECOND POST.
[From a genius in Geneseo, Ill.]
Dear sir: I am the champion Cornhusker I have given exhibitions in different places and theater managers and moveing picture men have asked me why I dont have my show put into moves (Film). I beleave it would make a very interesting Picture. We could have it taken right in the Cornfield and also on the stage. It would be very interesting for farmer boys and would be a good drawing card in small towns. I beleave we could make 1000 feet of it by showing me driveing into the field with my extra made wagon. then show them my style and speed of husking and perheps let a common husker husk a while. I could also give my exibition on the stage in a theater includeing the playing of six or eight different Instruments. For instence when I plow with a traction engine or tresh I also lead bands and Orchestra's.
* * *
There is a stage in almost everybody's musical education when Chopin's Funeral March seems the most significant composition in the world.
* * *
The two stenogs in the L coach were discussing the opera. "I see," said one, "that they're going to sing 'Flagstaff.'" "That's Verdi's latest opera," said the other. "Yes," contributed the gentleman in the adjacent seat, leaning forward; "and the scene is laid in Arizona."
* * *
Mr. Shanks voxpops that traffic should be relieved, not prevented, as "the automobile is absolutely important in modern business life." Now, the fact is that the automobile has become a nuisance; one can get about much faster and cheaper in the city on Mr. Shanks' w. k. mare. Life to-day is scaled to the automobile, whereas, as our gossip Andy Rebori contends, it ought to be scaled to the baby carriage. Many lines of industry are short of labor because this labor has been withdrawn for the care of automobiles.
* * *
"Do you remember," asks a fair correspondent (who protests that she is only academically fair), "when we used to read 'A Shropshire Lad,' and A. E., and Arthur Symons, and Yeats? And you used to print so many of the beautiful things they wrote?" Ah, yes, we do remember; but that, my dear, was a long, long time ago, in the period which has just closed, as Bennett puts it. How worth while those things used to seem, and what pleasant days those were. Men say that they will come again. But men said that Arthur would come again.
* * *
Our method: We select only things that interest us, assuming that other people will be interested; if they are not--why, chacun à son goût, as the cannibal king remarked, adding a little salt. We printed "The Spires of Oxford" a long time ago because it interested us exceedingly.
* * *
A valued colleague quotes the emotional line--
"This is my own, my native land!"--
as palliation, if not justification, for the "simple, homely, and comprehensive adjuration, 'Own Your Own Home.'" We acknowledge the homeliness and comprehensiveness, but we deny the value of poetic testimony. Said Dr. Johnson:
"Let observation with extensive view Survey mankind from China to Peru,"
which, De Quincey or Tennyson declared, should have run: "Let observation with extended observation observe mankind extensively." Poets and tautology go walking like the Walrus and the Carpenter.
* * *
BOLSHEVISM OF LONG AGO.
"A radical heaven is a place where every man does what he pleases, and there is a general division of property every Saturday night."--George S. Hillard (1853).
* * *
_LULLABY._
_In Woodman, Wis., the Hotel Lull Is where a man may rest his skull. All care and fret is void and null When one puts up at Hotel Lull. Ah, might I wing it as a gull Unto the mansion kept by Lull-- By W. K. Lull, the w. k. Lull, Who greets the guests at Hotel Lull._
* * *
"A thing of beauty is a joy forever." But if, miraculously, it happens in Chicago, it can, despite the poet's word, "pass into nothingness." The old Field Museum, seen beneath a summer moon, when the mist is on the lake, is as beautiful as anything on the earth's crust. Not to preserve the exterior were a sin against Beauty, which is the unforgivable sin.
* * *
"LEMME UP, DARLING! LEMME UP!"
[From the Detroit Free Press.]
My advertisement of Feb. 24 was error. I will be responsible for my wife's debts.
Leo Tyo.
* * *
"I'll make the Line some day or jump into Great Salt Lake," warns C. W. O. Pick out a soft spot, friend. We jumped into it one day and sprained an ankle.
Alice in Cartoonland.
I.
"Hello!" said the Hatter. "I haven't seen you for a long time."
"No," said Alice; "I've been all over--in Wonderland, in Bookland, in Stageland, and forty other lands. People must be tired of my adventures. Where am I now? I never know."
"In Cartoonland," said the Hatter.
"And what are _you_ doing here?" inquired Alice.
"I'm searching for an original cartoon idea," replied the Hatter. "Would you like to come along?"
"Ever so much," said Alice.
"The first thing we have to do is to get across that chasm," said the Hatter, pointing.
Alice saw a huge legend on the far wall of the chasm, and spelled it out--"O-b-l-i-v-i-o-n."
"Yes, Oblivion," said the Hatter. "That's where they dump defeated candidates and other undesirables. Come on, we can cross a little below here."
He indicated a thin plank that lay across the Chasm of Oblivion.
"Will it hold us?" said Alice.
"It has held the G. O. P. Elephant and the Democratic Donkey, and all sorts of people and things. Let's hurry over, as here comes the Elephant now, with Mr. Taft riding it, and the plank _might_ give way."
II.
"By the way," said the Hatter, "here is my hat store."
There were only two kinds in the window--square paper caps and high silk hats. Alice had never seen paper caps before.
"They're worn by the laboring man," said the Hatter; "but you never see them outside of Cartoonland. The plug hats are for Capitalists. I also keep whiskers; siders for Capital and ordinary for Labor."
"O, there's a railroad train!" said Alice, suddenly.
"No use taking that train," said the Hatter; "it doesn't go. Did you ever see an engine like that outside Cartoonland? And even if it did work we shouldn't get very far, as the rock Obstruction is always on the track."
"I'd just as soon walk," said Alice.
III.
"Mercy! there's a giant!" exclaimed Alice.
"Don't be alarmed," said the Hatter; "he's perfectly good natured."
"What an awful-looking creature!" said Alice.
"He's awfully out of drawing," said the Hatter, critically; "but, then, almost everything in Cartoonland is. It's the idea that counts."
"You said you were searching for an original idea," Alice reminded him.
"But I don't expect to find one," the Hatter replied. "You see, it wouldn't be any use; nobody would understand it. People like the old familiar things, you know."
"Still, we might happen on one," said Alice. "Let's walk along."
IV.
Suddenly a door opened, and a great quantity of rubbish was swept briskly into the street.
"That's the New Broom," said the Hatter. "There's been another election. Evidently the Democrats won, as there goes the Donkey, waving his ears and hee-hawing."
"Oh, is that a fruit store?" asked Alice.
"No; the Republican headquarters," replied the Hatter. "That huge cornucopia you see is a symbol of Prosperity. Prosperity in Cartoonland is always represented by a horn of plenty with a pineapple in the muzzle. You've heard the expression, 'The pineapple of prosperity.'"
"No," said Alice, "but I've heard about the 'pineapple of politeness.'"
"That," said the Hatter, "is something else again."
V.
Presently they came to a collection of factories, the tall chimneys of which poured out smoke in great volume.
"Those are the Smoking Stacks of Industry," said the Hatter.
"What do they manufacture here?" asked Alice.
"Cartoonatums," said the Hatter. "A cartoonatum," he explained, "is a combination of wheels, rods, cogs, hoppers, cranks, etc., which sometimes looks like a sausage grinder and sometimes like a try-your-weight machine. It couldn't possibly go, any more than the locomotives in Cartoonland."
"Why don't the Cartoonlanders have machines that _can_ go?" inquired Alice.
"That," replied the Hatter, "would require a little study and observation."
VI.
As Alice and the Hatter walked along they passed many curious things, such as Wolves in Sheep's Clothing, the skin of a Tiger nailed to a barn door, St. George and the Dragon, Father Knickerbocker, barrels of political mud, a huge serpent labeled "Anarchy," a drug store window full of bottles of Political Dope and boxes of Political Pills, an orchard of Political Plum Trees, and other objects which the Hatter said were as old as the hills. "I'm afraid there's nothing to hold us here," he declared.
Alice's attention was suddenly attracted by a little girl in a thin and ragged dress who, with an empty basket on her arm, was gazing wistfully at the goodies in a bakeshop window.
"She represents Poverty," said the Hatter. "When she isn't staring at a bakeshop she's looking at a proclamation by the ice trust, or something like that."
Alice spoke to the child and learned that she was one of a large family. Her father, she said, was a New York cartoonist who one day had been visited by an Original Idea.
"Where is he?" cried the Hatter excitedly.
"He dropped dead!" replied the child, weeping bitterly.
"Good night!" said the Hatter, and walked away.
A LINE-O'-TYPE OR TWO
_Quicquid agunt homines nostri est farrago libelli._ --_Juvenal._
Question:
Who is this Juvenal wheezer? Readers inquire every day. Give us a line on the geezer-- What is he trying to say? Do you expect us to get stuff That is clear over our bean? What is that "_Quicquid_, et cet." stuff? What does the gibberish mean?
Reply:
If you're too lazy to look for Juvenal's name in the Dic, Why should _I_ go to the book for Such a cantankerous kick? Still, to avoid all dissension, And my good nature to prove, I am quite willing to mention One or two things about Juve.
Juve was a Roman humdinger, Writer of satires and sich. He was consid'rable stinger-- Rare were his sallies and rich. High his poetic position, Lofty his manner and brow; Lived in the time of Domitian;-- That's all I think of just now.
As for that "_Quicquid_, and so forth," I have but space to advise If you'd decipher it go forth, Look in the Dic and be wise. Make it a point, in your reading, Always to look up what's new. That is a simple proceeding: Why not adopt it? _I_ do.
* * *
IT HAS BEEN DONE.
Sir: Broke friend wife's favorite Victrola record. Told her about it. She came back with, "Well, that's the only record you ever broke." Do you think she was bawling me out or was she paying me a compliment?
E. P. P.
* * *
"Will the Devil complete the capture of the modern church?" inquires the Rev. Mr. Straton of New York. Why is it assumed that the Old Boy is attempting to capture it? People go to the Devil; the Devil doesn't have to chase after them. The notion that Old Nick, is always around drumming up business is an example of the inordinate vanity of man.
* * *
Dean Jones of Yale is credited with this definition of freedom of speech: "The liberty to say what you think without thinking what you say."
* * *
"ON SUCH A NIGHT..."
[From the Bethany, Mo., Clipper.]
After the serving of light refreshments the young ladies repaired to the third floor and "tripped the light fantastic" while music waved eternal wands. And then the whole company flocked in and enjoyed the beauties of this grand home, lingering and chatting, with the enchanted spell of the glorious evening still strong upon each one, until the crescent moon had veiled her face and the vain young night trembled over her own beauty. And then with expressed regrets that the hours had flown so rapidly the guests bade a fair good night to their charming hostess.
* * *
TEMPERATURE.
An idea pushed along to us by L. O. K. has no doubt been seriously considered by the Congress. It is to move the tubes of all thermometers up an inch on the scale every fall, and down an inch in the spring. This would make our winter temperature much more endurable, and our summer temp. delightful.
* * *
LET US PERISH, RATHER, BY DEGREES.
Sir: Before the Congress adopts the idea of L. O. K. to move the tubes of all thermometers up an inch on the scale every fall and down an inch in the spring, I rush to inquire how shall we, who possess only a two inch thermometer, on which an inch covers at least 70 degrees, be able to withstand the extremes of climate? May I not suggest that the Congress be petitioned to make the move by degrees instead of inches, and thus avoid great suffering?
L. J. R.
* * *
You may have noted--nearly everybody else did--that Jean Paige and Albert Smith were married in Paris, Ill., "at the farm residence of Mr. and Mrs. Wigfall O'Hair." The Academy of Immortals attended in a body.
* * *
Commuters discuss many interesting topics, including the collection of garbage. Mac was reminded of a Michigan lady of his acquaintance who, with a new maid, was trying to pull off a very correct luncheon. In the midst of it the maid appeared and said, "Oh, Mrs. Kennedy, the garbage man wants a dime." The hostess, without batting an eye, replied: "We are having company to-day. Better get a quarter's worth."
* * *
"'My mind is open on the question of garbage disposal,' Alderman Link declared."
You know what he means.
* * *
HYMN OF HATE.
(_Reprinted at request of Mr. Hoover._)
Cranberry pie, or apricot-- We love them not, we hate them not. Of all the victuals in pot or plate, There's only one that we loathe and hate. We love a hundred, we hate but one, And that we'll hate till our race is run-- BREAD PUDDING!
It's known to you all, it's known to you all, It casts a gloom, and it casts a pall; By whatso name they mark the mess, You take one taste and you give one guess. Come, let us stand in the Wailing Place, A vow to register, face to face: We will never forego our hate Of that tasteless fodder we execrate-- BREAD PUDDING!
Cranberry pie, or apricot-- Some folks like 'em, and some folks not. They're not so bad if they're made just right, Tho' they don't enkindle our appetite. But _you_ we hate with a lasting hate, And never will we that hate abate: Hate of the tooth and hate of the gum, Hate of palate and hate of tum, Hate of the millions who've choked you down, In country kitchen or house in town. We love a thousand, we hate but one, With a hate more hot than the hate of Hun-- BREAD PUDDING!
* * *
Since prohibition came in, says the Onion King, Americans have taken to eating onions. As Lincoln prophesied, this nation is having a new breath of freedom.
* * *
Asked what the racket was all about, the inspired waiter at the Woman's Athletic Club replied, "It's the Vassar illumini."
* * *
In a soi-disant democracy "personal liberty" is an empty phrase, bursting with nothingness. Personal liberty is to be enjoyed only under a benevolent autocracy. It is contained wholly in the code of King Pausole:
"I.--Ne nuis pas à ton voisin.
"II.--Ceci bien compris, fais ce qu'il te plaît."
* * *
There are many definitions of "optimist" and "pessimist." As good as another is one that the Hetman of the Boul Mich Cossacks is fond of quoting: "An optimist is a man who sees a great light where there is none. A pessimist is a man who comes along and blows out the light."
* * *
"Two-piano playing is more or less of a sport, as the gardeners say," observes Mr. Aldrich in the New York Times. And we are reminded of Philip Hale's review of a two-piano recital. "We have heard these two gentlemen separately without being greatly stirred," he said in effect, "but their combination was like bringing together the component parts of a seidlitz powder."
* * *
Writes H. D., at present in Loz Onglaze: "Alphonse Daudet says that the sun is the real liar, that it alone is responsible for all the exaggerations of its favorite children of the south." And you know what the sun does to Californians.
* * *
The Paris decision suggests a neat form letter for collection lawyers: "We hope that you will not place us under the necessity of envisaging the grave situation which will be created if you persist in failing to meet this obligation."
* * *
FOR WHICH MUCH THANKS.
Sir: The Heraminer relates that James K. Hackett has refused to play the title rôle in "Mary, Queen of Scots." Gosh, but this is a relief!
G. D. C.
* * *
THE SECOND POST.
[An order for a picture.]
Dear Sirs: I am sending you two photos and $5. I want you to have this work done as perfect as possible, there is a little alteration which I want made, which you will see as follows. Take the man from the single picture, which is my father, and paint him standing behind my mother which is setting in the chair on the grupe picture, or put him setting in another chair beside the girl on the same picture whichever you think will look the best to make a good picture, but I want the four persons in one big good picture. You will see that the picture has a redish flair, please try to get the others without any of that, also you will see that our eyes in the grupe picture is raised too high, please fix them looking natural, also put our eyebrows thick and natural, and make our faces as pleasant looking as possible, also you will notice in the picture that the girls dress is not sitting good from the waist down, please fix that setting smoothly as the breeze was blowing so hard in the yard that I could not keep my skirt setting in good shape around me, so please rectefy all these foults which I mention and make me a good picture as I want it to keep in memory of my family as we are now; you may put it in rich brown or sepia pastel whichever you think suits the picture the best, let the photoes be enlarged but full stature the same as the origenal.
* * *
A FIG FOR CEREMONY!
[From the East Peoria Post.]
New Year's Day our young friends, Miss Hattie Cochran and Mr. Elias King, without any ceremony at all were united in the bonds of holy wedlock.
* * *
THE SECOND POST.
[Received by the Chief of Police of Wichita, Kas.]
Der Sir: I am writing you to know if you have seen any thing of my wife in Wichita. She run off from me and a feller told me he seen her in Wichita having a big time. She is kinder Red Headed tolerable tall and has got a prety Bust in fact she is perfectly made up and you mite know of her by a Thing she has got tattooed on her rite thigh kindly in front of her leg. I think they aimed it for a Hart with L. M. in it but they kinder made a bum job of it and it is hard to make out what it is. If you here of her let me know it at wounced and I will come rite up fur her fur I want to See her bad. eny thing you let me no Surtenly will be appreciate. Yours truly, (Name on File).
P. S.--I may come rite to Wichita myself and see if I can find her, but you keep a look out fur her.
* * *
... What may interest you is that one of the Fords was owned by A. F. Fender.
* * *
OPEN THE GATES!