Moonbeams From the Larger Lunacy

Stephen Leacock

Description

Dividing his time between academic pursuits and humor writing, Canadian author and scholar Stephen Leacock had a vivid, kinetic imagination. His playful mental prowess is on full display in the collection Moonbeams From the Larger Lunacy, which veers between a wide array of topics, ranging from suffrage to literary satires of overwrought purple prose.

Sujets

• Short story

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776536573
• Langue: English

Extrait

MOONBEAMS FROM THE LARGER LUNACY
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STEPHEN LEACOCK
 
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Moonbeams From the Larger Lunacy First published in 1915 Epub ISBN 978-1-77653-657-3 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77653-658-0 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Preface I - Spoof a Thousand-Guinea Novel New! Fascinating!Perplexing! II - The Reading Public - A Book Store Study III - Afternoon Adventures at My Club IV - Ram Spudd the New World Singer is He Divinely Inspired?Or is He Not? At Any Rate We Discovered Him V - Aristocratic Anecdotes or Little Stories of GreatPeople VI - Education Made Agreeable or the Diversions of aProfessor VII - An Every-Day Experience VIII - Truthful Oratory, or What Our SpeakersOught to Say IX - Our Literary Bureau X - Speeding up Business XI - Who is Also Who a Companion Volumeto Who's Who XII - Passionate Paragraphs XIII - Weejee the Pet Dog an Idyll of the Summer XIV - Sidelights on the Supermen an Interview withGeneral Bernhardi XV - The Survival of the Fittest XVI - The First Newspaper - A Sort of Allegory XVII - In the Good Time After the War Endnotes
Preface
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The prudent husbandman, after having taken from his fieldall the straw that is there, rakes it over with a woodenrake and gets as much again. The wise child, after thelemonade jug is empty, takes the lemons from the bottomof it and squeezes them into a still larger brew. So doesthe sagacious author, after having sold his material tothe magazines and been paid for it, clap it into book-coversand give it another squeeze. But in the present case theauthor is of a nice conscience and anxious to placeresponsibility where it is due. He therefore wishes tomake all proper acknowledgments to the editors of VanityFair, The American Magazine, The Popular Magazine, Life,Puck, The Century, Methuen's Annual, and all others whoare in any way implicated in the making of this book.
STEPHEN LEACOCK.
McGill University, Montreal. Oct. 1, 1915.
I - Spoof a Thousand-Guinea Novel New! Fascinating!Perplexing!
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Chapter I
Readers are requested to note that this novel has takenour special prize of a cheque for a thousand guineas.This alone guarantees for all intelligent readers apalpitating interest in every line of it. Among thethousands of MSS. which reached us—many of them comingin carts early in the morning, and moving in a densephalanx, indistinguishable from the Covent Garden Marketwaggons; others pouring down our coal-chute during theworking hours of the day; and others again being slippedsurreptitiously into our letter-box by pale, timid girls,scarcely more than children, after nightfall (in factmany of them came in their night-gowns),—this manuscriptalone was the sole one—in fact the only one—to receivethe prize of a cheque of a thousand guineas. To othercompetitors we may have given, inadvertently perhaps, abag of sovereigns or a string of pearls, but to thisstory alone is awarded the first prize by the unanimousdecision of our judges.
When we say that the latter body included two members ofthe Cabinet, two Lords of the Admiralty, and two bishops,with power in case of dispute to send all the MSS. tothe Czar of Russia, our readers will breathe a sigh ofrelief to learn that the decision was instant and unanimous.Each one of them, in reply to our telegram, answeredimmediately SPOOF.
This novel represents the last word in up-to-date fiction.It is well known that the modern novel has got far beyondthe point of mere story-telling. The childish attempt toINTEREST the reader has long since been abandoned by allthe best writers. They refuse to do it. The modern novelmust convey a message, or else it must paint a picture,or remove a veil, or open a new chapter in human psychology.Otherwise it is no good. SPOOF does all of these things.The reader rises from its perusal perplexed, troubled,and yet so filled with information that rising itself isa difficulty.
We cannot, for obvious reasons, insert the whole of thefirst chapter. But the portion here presented was praisedby The Saturday Afternoon Review as giving one of themost graphic and at the same time realistic pictures ofAmerica ever written in fiction.
Of the characters whom our readers are to imagine seatedon the deck—on one of the many decks (all connected byelevators)—of the Gloritania, one word may be said. Verede Lancy is (as the reviewers have under oath declared)a typical young Englishman of the upper class. He isnephew to the Duke of—, but of this fact no one onthe ship, except the captain, the purser, the steward,and the passengers are, or is, aware.
In order entirely to conceal his identity, Vere de Lancyis travelling under the assumed name of Lancy de Vere.In order the better to hide the object of his journey,Lancy de Vere (as we shall now call him, though ourreaders will be able at any moment to turn his namebackwards) has given it to be understood that he istravelling merely as a gentleman anxious to see America.This naturally baffles all those in contact with him.
The girl at his side—but perhaps we may best let herspeak for herself.
Somehow as they sat together on the deck of the greatsteamer in the afterglow of the sunken sun, listening tothe throbbing of the propeller (a rare sound which neitherof them of course had ever heard before), de Vere feltthat he must speak to her. Something of the mystery ofthe girl fascinated him. What was she doing here alonewith no one but her mother and her maid, on the bosom ofthe Atlantic? Why was she here? Why was she not somewhereelse? The thing puzzled, perplexed him. It would not lethim alone. It fastened upon his brain. Somehow he feltthat if he tried to drive it away, it might nip him inthe ankle.
In the end he spoke.
"And you, too," he said, leaning over her deck-chair,"are going to America?"
He had suspected this ever since the boat left Liverpool.Now at length he framed his growing conviction into words.
"Yes," she assented, and then timidly, "it is 3,213 mileswide, is it not?"
"Yes," he said, "and 1,781 miles deep! It reaches fromthe forty-ninth parallel to the Gulf of Mexico."
"Oh," cried the girl, "what a vivid picture! I seem tosee it."
"Its major axis," he went on, his voice sinking almostto a caress, "is formed by the Rocky Mountains, whichare practically a prolongation of the Cordilleran Range.It is drained," he continued—
"How splendid!" said the girl.
"Yes, is it not? It is drained by the Mississippi, bythe St. Lawrence, and—dare I say it?—by the UpperColorado."
Somehow his hand had found hers in the half gloaming,but she did not check him.
"Go on," she said very simply; "I think I ought to hearit."
"The great central plain of the interior," he continued,"is formed by a vast alluvial deposit carried down assilt by the Mississippi. East of this the range of theAlleghanies, nowhere more than eight thousand feet inheight, forms a secondary or subordinate axis from whichthe watershed falls to the Atlantic."
He was speaking very quietly but earnestly. No man hadever spoken to her like this before.
"What a wonderful picture!" she murmured half to herself,half aloud, and half not aloud and half not to herself.
"Through the whole of it," de Vere went on, "there runrailways, most of them from east to west, though a fewrun from west to east. The Pennsylvania system alonehas twenty-one thousand miles of track."
"Twenty-one thousand miles," she repeated; already shefelt her will strangely subordinate to his.
He was holding her hand firmly clasped in his and lookinginto her face.
"Dare I tell you," he whispered, "how many employees ithas?"
"Yes," she gasped, unable to resist.
"A hundred and fourteen thousand," he said.
There was silence. They were both thinking. Presentlyshe spoke, timidly.
"Are there any cities there?"
"Cities!" he said enthusiastically, "ah, yes! let metry to give you a word-picture of them. Vast cities—withtall buildings, reaching to the very sky. Why, forinstance, the new Woolworth Building in New York—"
"Yes, yes," she broke in quickly, "how high is it?"
"Seven hundred and fifty feet."
The girl turned and faced him.
"Don't," she said. "I can't bear it. Some other time,perhaps, but not now."
She had risen and was gathering up her wraps. "And you,"she said, "why are you going to America?"
"Why?" he answered. "Because I want to see, to know, tolearn. And when I have learned and seen and known, I wantother people to see and to learn and to know. I want towrite it all down, all the vast palpitating picture ofit. Ah! if I only could—I want to see" (and here hepassed his hand through his hair as if trying to remember)"something of the relations of labour and capital, ofthe extraordinary development of industrial machinery,of the new and intricate organisation of corporationfinance, and in particular I want to try to analyse—noone has ever done it yet—the men who guide and driveit all. I want to set down the psychology of themultimillionaire!"
He paused. The girl stood irresolute. She was thinking(apparently, for if not, why stand there?).
"Perhaps," she faltered, "I could help you."
"You!"
"Yes, I might." She hesitated. "I—I—come from America."
"You!" said de Vere in astonishment. "With a face andvoice like yours! It is impossible!"
The boldness of the compliment held her speechless fora moment.
"I do," she said; "my people lived just outside of Cohoes."
"They couldn't have," he said passionately.
"I shouldn't speak to you like this," th