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HALF HOURS WITH THE IDIOT
By John Kendrick Bangs
* * * * *
A LITTLE BOOK OF CHRISTMAS A LINE O' CHEER FOR EACH DAY O' THE YEAR HALF HOURS WITH THE IDIOT
HALF HOURS WITHTHE IDIOT
BYJOHN KENDRICK BANGS
BOSTONLITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY1917
_Copyright, 1917,_BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE I AS TO AMBASSADORS' RESIDENCES 1 II AS TO THE FAIR SEX 22 III HE GOES CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 43 IV AS TO THE INCOME TAX 65 V A PSYCHIC VENTURE 84 VI ON MEDICAL CONSERVATION 101 VII THE U. S. TELEPHONIC AID SOCIETY 119 VIII FOR TIRED BUSINESS MEN 137
I
AS TO AMBASSADORS' RESIDENCES
"I am glad to see that the government is beginning to think seriously ofproviding Ambassadors' residences at the various foreign capitals towhich our Ambassadors are accredited," said the Idiot, stirring hiscoffee with a small pocket thermometer, and entering the recordedtemperature of 58 degrees Fahrenheit in his little memorandum book."That's a thing we have needed for a long time. It has always seemed ahumiliating thing to me to note the differences between the houses ofour government officials of equal rank, but of unequal fortune, abroad.To leave the home of an Ambassador to Great Britain, a massivesixteen-story mausoleum, looking like a collision between a CarnegieLibrary and a State Penitentiary, with seven baths and four grand pianoson every floor, with guides always on duty to show you the way from yourbedchamber to the breakfast room, and a special valet for each garmentyou wear, from sock to collar, and go over to Rome and find yourAmbassador heating his coffee over a gas-jet in a hall bedroom on thetop floor of some dusty old Palazzo, overlooking the garage of theSpanish Minister, is disconcerting, to say the least. It may be asymptom of American fraternity, but it does not speak volumes forWestern Hemispherical equality, and the whole business ought to bestandardized. An American Embassy architecturally should not be either atwin brother to a Renaissance lunatic asylum, or a replica of a fourthousand dollar Ladies' Home Journal bungalow that can be built by theowner himself working Sunday afternoons for eight hundred dollars,exclusive of the plumbing."
"You are right for once, Mr. Idiot," said the Bibliomaniac approvingly."The last time I was abroad traveling with one of those Through Europein Ten Days parties, I could not make up my mind which was the morehumiliating to me as an American citizen, the lavish ostentation of oneembassy, or the niggardly squalor of another; and it occurred to me thenthat here was a first-class opportunity for some patriot to come alongand do his country's dignity some good by pruning a little in one place,and fattening things up a bit in another."
"Quite so," said the Idiot, inhaling a waffle.
"And I have been hoping," continued the Bibliomaniac, "that Congresswould authorize the purchase of suitable houses in foreign capitals forthe purpose of correcting the evil."
"That's where we diverge, sir," said the Idiot, "as the lady said to herhusband, when they got their first glimpse of the courthouse at Reno. Wedon't want to purchase. We want to build. The home of an AmericanAmbassador should express America, not the country to which he is sentto Ambass. There's nothing to my mind less appropriate than to find adiplomat from Oklahoma named, let us say, Dinkelspiel, housed in a LouisFourteenth chateau on the Champs Eliza; or a gentleman from Indianadwelling in the palace of some noble but defunct homicidal Duck of theSforza strain in Rome; or a leading Presbyterian representing us atConstantinople receiving his American visitors in a collection ofbargain-counter minarets formerly occupied by the secondary harem of theSublime Porte. There is an incongruity about that sort of thing that,while it may add to the gaiety of nations, leaves Uncle Sam at the wrongend of the joke. When the thing is done it ought to be done from theground up. Uncle Sam should always feel at home in his own house, and Icontend that he couldn't really feel that way in an ex-harem, or in oneof those cold-storage Roman Palazzos where the Borgias used to dispensecyanide of potassium _frappe_ to their friends and neighbors. He doesn'tfit into that sort of thing any more than he fits into those pink satinknee-breeches, and the blue cocked hat with rooster feathers thatdiplomatic usage requires him to wear when he goes to make a party callon the Czar. So I am hoping that when Congress takes the matter up itwill consider only the purchase of suitable sites, and then go on toadopt a standardized residence which from cellar to roof, from statesalon to kitchen, shall express the American idea."
"You talk as if there were an American idea in architecture," said theDoctor. "If there is such a thing to be found anywhere under the canopy,let's have it."
"Oh, it hasn't been evolved, yet," said the Idiot. "But it soon would beif we were to put our minds on it. We can be just as strong on evolutionas we always have been on revolution if we only try. The first thingwould be for us to recognize that in his fullest development up to datethe real American is a composite of everything that is best in all othernations. Take my humble self for instance."
"What, again?" groaned the Bibliomaniac. "Really, Mr. Idiot, you areworse than the measles. You can take that only once, but you--why, we'vehad you so often that it sometimes seems as if life were just oneidiotic thing after another."
"Oh, all right," said the Idiot. "In that case, let's take you for adreadful example. What are you, anyhow, Mr. Bib, but the ultimate resultof a highly variegated international complication in the matter ofancestry? Your father was English; your mother was German. Yourgrandparents were Scotch, Irish, and Manx, with a touch of French on oneside, and a mixture of Hungarian, Danish, and Russian on the other. Itis just possible that without knowing it you also contain traces ofItalian and Spanish. Your love of classic literature suggests thatsomewhere back in the ages one of your forbears swarmed about Athens asa member of that famous clan, the Hoi Polloi. The touch of melancholy inyour nature may be attributed to overindulgence in waffles, but itsuggests also that Scandinavia had a hand in the evolution of your Ego.In other words, sir, you are a sort of human _pousse-cafe_, a mightyagreeable concoction, Mr. Bib, though a trifle dangerous to tackle atbreakfast. Now, as I wanted to say in the beginning, when you intimatedthat I was in danger of becoming chronic, I am out of the same box ofancestral odds and ends that you are. I am a mixture of Dutch, French,English, and Manx, with an undoubted strain of either Ciceronian Romanor Demosthenesian Greek thrown in--I'm not certain which--as isevidenced by my overwhelming predilection for the sound of my ownvoice."
"That much is perfectly clear," interjected the Bibliomaniac, "thoughthe too-easy and overcontinuous flow of your speech indicates that yourveins contain some of the torrential qualities of the Ganges."
"Say rather the Mississippi, Mr. Bib," suggested Mr. Brief. "TheMississippi has the biggest mouth."
"Well, anyhow," continued the Idiot, unabashed, "whether my speechsuggests the unearthly, mystic beauty of the Ganges, or the placidfructifying flow of the Mississippi, the fact remains that the bestAmerican type is a composite of all the best that human experience hasbeen able to produce in the way of a featherless biped since DoctorDarwin's friend, Simian, got rid of his tail, preferring to sleepquietly on his back in bed rather than spend his nights swingingnervously to and fro from the limb of a tree. Since we can't deny this,let's make
a virtue of it, and act accordingly. What is more simple,then, than that a composite people should go in for a compositearchitecture to express themselves in marble, stone, and brick? Actingon this principle let our architecture express the glory that wasGreece, the grandeur that was Rome, the utility that was England, theeconomy that was Scotch, the _espieglerie_ that was France, thesimplicity that was Holland, and the efficiency that was Germany, not tomention the philandery that was Constantinople. The problem will be howto combine all these various strains and qualities in one compositebuilding, and that, of course, will have to be solved by architects. Itisn't a thing like banking that under the theories of modernStatesmanship can be settled by chauffeurs, tobacconists, andundertakers, but will require expert handling. I don't know very muchabout architecture myself, but off-hand I should say that the exteriorof the building might be a combination of late Victorian Queen Anne,softened somewhat with Elizabethan suggestions of neo-GothicGraeco-Roman Classicism; with a Byzantine fullness about the eaves,relieved with a touch of Hebridean French Renaissance manifested in therococo quality of the pergola effect at the front, the whole buildingwelded into a less inchoate mass by a very pronounced feeling ofGeorgian decadence, emphasized with a gambrel roof, and the facadedecorated with flamboyant Dutch fire escapes, bringing irresistibly tomind the predominance in all American art of the Teutonic-Doric, asshown in our tendency to gables supported by moorish pilasters done inHudson River brick. Not being an architect myself I don't know that abuilding of that kind could be made to stand up, but we might experimenton the proposition by erecting a Pan-European building in Washington,and see whether it would stand or not. If it could stand through oneextra session of Congress without cracking, I don't see why it couldn'tbe put up anywhere abroad with perfect confidence that it would stay upthrough one administration, anyhow."
"A nightmare of that kind erected in the capital city of a friendlypower would be just cause for war to the knife!" said Mr. Brief.
"Well, I have an alternative proposition," said the Idiot, "and I am notsure that it isn't far better than the other. Why not erect a Statue ofLiberty in every capital abroad, an exact reproduction of thatmonumental affair in New York Harbor, and let our Ambassadors live inthem? They tell me there's as much room inside Liberty's skirts as thereis in any ordinary ten-story apartment house, and there is no reasonwhy it should not be utilized. My suggestion would be to have all theoffices of the Embassies in the pedestals, and let the Ambassador andhis family live in the overskirt. There'd be plenty of room left higherup in the torso for guest chambers, and in the uplifted arm fornurseries for the ambassadorial children, and the whole could be cappedwith a magnificent banquet hall on the rim of the torch, at the base ofthe brazen flame."
"A plan worthy of the gigantic intellect that conceived it," smiled theDoctor. "But how would you have this thing furnished, Mr. Idiot? Wouldthat be done by the Ambassadors themselves, or would the President haveto call a special session of Congress to tackle the job?"
"I was coming to that," said the Idiot. "It has occurred to me that itwould be a fine thing to have forty-eight rooms in the statue, eachnamed after one of our American States, and then leave it to each Stateto furnish its own room. This would lend a pleasing variety to theinside of the building that could hardly fail to interest the visitor,and would give the foreigners a very clear insight into our resourcesalong lines of interior decorations. Think of the Massachusetts Room,for example--a fine old horse-hair mahogany sofa in one corner; arosewood highboy off in another; an old-fashioned four-poster bedprojecting out into the middle of the room, and a blue china wash-bowland pitcher on a spindle-legged washstand near by; and on the wall threesteel engravings, one showing John Hancock signing the Declaration ofIndependence, another of Charles Sumner preaching emancipation, and athird showing Billy Sunday trying to sweep back the waves of a dampBoston from the sand dunes of a gradually drying Commonwealth. Then theMichigan room would be a corker, lavishly filled with antique furniturefresh from Grand Rapids, and a bronze statuette of Henry Ford at eachend of the mantelpiece for symmetry's sake, the ceiling given over to asymbolical painting entitled The Confusion of Bacchus, reproducingscenes in Detroit when announcement was made that the good old State hadvoted for grape-juice as the official tipple. Missouri's room could bemade a thing of beauty and a joy forever, with its lovely wall papershowing her favorite sons, Dave Francis and Champ Clark alternately,separated by embossed hound-dogs, rampant, done in gilt bronze, and theState motto, Show Me, in red, white, and blue tiles over the fireplace.Really I can't imagine anything more expressive of all-America than thatwould be. Florida could take the Palm Room; New York the rather frigidand formal white and gold reception room; Maine as the leadingcold-water State of the Union could furnish the bathrooms; Californiacould provide a little cafeteria affair for a quick lunch in missionstyle, and owing to her pre-eminence in literature, the library could beturned over to Indiana with every assurance that if there were not booksenough to go round, any one of her deservedly favorite sons, from GeorgeAde to George McCutcheon, would write a five-foot shelfful at any timeto supply the deficiency.
"Murally speaking, a plan of this sort could be made historicallyedifying also. Florida could supply a handsome canvas showing Ponce deLeon discovering Palm Beach. In the New Jersey room the Battle ofTrenton could be shown, depicting the retreat of Jim Smith, and thefinal surrender of Democracy to General Wilson. Ohio could emphasize inan appropriate medium the Discovery of the Oil Fields by Mr.Rockefeller. Pennsylvania could herald her glories with a mural paintingapotheosizing William Penn and Andrew Carnegie in the act of forging herheart of steel in the fires of immortality, kept burning by anever-ending stream of bonds poured forth from the end of a cornucopiaby Fortune herself. An heroic figure of Governor Blease defying thelightning would come gracefully from South Carolina, and Rhode Island,always a most aristocratic little State, could emphasize the descent ofsome of her favorite sons from Darwin's original inspiration by a friezedepicting a modern tango party at Newport, in which the preservation ofthe type, and a possible complete reversion thereto, should be madeimperishably obvious to all beholders.
"Then, to make the thing consistent throughout, the homes ofAmbassadors having been standardized, Congress should order a standarduniform for her representatives abroad. This would settle once and forall the vexed question as to what an Ambassador shall wear whenpresented to King This, or Emperor That, or the Ponkapog of Thingumbob.I think it ought to be a definitely established principle that everynation should be permitted to choose its own official dud, but not theduds of others. There is no reason in the world why the King of Englandshould be permitted to dictate the style of garments an AmericanAmbassador shall wear. Suppose he ordered him to attend a five o'clocktea clad in yellow pajamas trimmed with red-plush fringe and goldtassels emerging from green rosettes? It would be enough to set theeagle screaming and to justify the sending of a Commission of Protestheaded by Mr. Bryan over to London to slap Mr. Lloyd George on thewrist. Nor should the Kaiser be permitted to say how an Americanrepresentative shall dress when calling upon him, compelling him toappear perhaps in a garb entirely unsuited to his style ofbeauty--something like the uniform of a glorified White Wing, forinstance, decorated with peacock feathers, and wearing an alpine hatwith a stuffed parrot lying flat on its back on the peak, on his head.That sort of thing does not gee with our pretensions. We are a free andindependent nation, and it is time to assert our independence of thesartorial shackles those foreign potentates would fasten upon us. Letthe fiat go forth that hereafter all American Ambassadors wheresoeveraccredited shall wear a long blue swallow-tail coat with brass buttons,and forty-eight stars, lit by electricity from a small battery concealedin the pistol pocket, appliqued on the tails; red and white-stripeddoeskin trousers, skin tight, held down by straps under the boots; andan embroidered waist-coat, showing a couple of American eagles standingon their hind legs and facing the world with the defiant cry of WePluribus Us; the whole topped off with
a bell-crowned, fuzzy beaver hat,made of silver-gray plush, which shall never be removed in the presenceof anybody, potentate or peasant, plutocrat or Cook tourist. If inaddition to these items the Ambassador were compelled to wear a long,yellow chin whisker, it would be just the liverest livery that ever camedown the pike of Brummelian splendor. It would emphasize the presence ofthe American Ambassador wherever he went, and make the effete nations ofEurope, Asia, Africa, and Pan America sit up and take notice."
"Doubtless," said the Bibliomaniac, rising impatiently. "And do yousuppose the President could find any self-respecting American in or outof jail who would be willing to wear such a costume as that?"
"Well," said the Idiot, "of course some of 'em might object, but I'llbet you four dollars and eighty-seven cents' worth of doughnuts againsta Chautauqua rain check that any man who offered you seventeen thousandfive hundred dollars a year for wearing those duds without having themoney to back the offer up would find your name at the head of the listof his preferred creditors in less than three shakes of a lamb's tail!"