Love Conquers All by Robert C. Benchley

R >> Robert C. Benchley >> Love Conquers All

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

The windows in the rear of the vestry rather ineffectively concealed by
a group of small fir trees on standards, one of which has already fallen
over, leaving exposed a corner of the map of Palestine and the list of
gold-star classes for November. In the center of the stage is a larger
tree, undecorated, while at the extreme left, invisible to everyone in
the audience except those sitting at the extreme right, is an imitation
fireplace, leaning against the wall.

Twenty-five seconds too early little Flora Rochester will prance out
from the wings, uttering the first shrill notes of a song, and will have
to be grabbed by eager hands and pulled back. Twenty-four seconds later
the piano will begin "The Return of the Reindeer" with a powerful
accent on the first note of each bar, and Flora Rochester, Lillian
McNulty, Gertrude Hamingham and Martha Wrist will swirl on, dressed in
white, and advance heavily into the footlights, which will go out.

There will then be an interlude while Mr. Neff, the sexton, adjusts the
connection, during which the four little girls stand undecided whether
to brave it out or cry. As a compromise they giggle and are herded back
into the wings by Mrs. Drury, amid applause. When the lights go on
again, the applause becomes deafening, and as Mr. Neff walks
triumphantly away, the little boys in the audience will whistle: "There
she goes, there she goes, all dressed up in her Sunday clothes!"

"The Return of the Reindeer" will be started again and the show-girls
will reappear, this time more gingerly and somewhat dispirited. They
will, however, sing the following, to the music of the "Ballet
Pizzicato" from "Sylvia":

"We greet you, we greet you,
On this Christmas Eve so fine.
We greet you, we greet you,
And wish you a good time."

They will then turn toward the tree and Flora Rochester will advance,
hanging a silver star on one of the branches, meanwhile reciting a
verse, the only distinguishable words of which are: "_I am Faith so
strong and pure_--"

At the conclusion of her recitation, the star will fall off.

Lillian McNulty will then step forward and hang her star on a branch,
reading her lines in clear tones:

"_And I am Hope, a virtue great,
My gift to Christmas now I make,
That children and grown-ups may hope today
That tomorrow will be a merry Christmas Day_."

The hanging of the third star will be consummated by Gertrude Hamingham,
who will get as far as "_Sweet Charity I bring to place upon the
tree_--" at which point the strain will become too great and she will
forget the remainder. After several frantic glances toward the wings,
from which Mrs. Drury is sending out whispered messages to the effect
that the next line begins, "_My message bright_--" Gertrude will
disappear, crying softly.

[Illustration: "'Round and 'round the tree I go."]

After the morale of the cast has been in some measure restored by the
pianist, who, with great presence of mind, plays a few bars of "Will
There Be Any Stars In My Crown?" to cover up Gertrude's exit, Martha
Wrist will unleash a rope of silver tinsel from the foot of the tree,
and, stringing it over the boughs as she skips around in a circle, will
say, with great assurance:

"'_Round and 'round the tree I go,
Through the holly and the snow
Bringing love and Christmas cheer
Through the happy year to come._"

At this point there will be a great commotion and jangling of
sleigh-bells off-stage, and Mr. Creamer, rather poorly disguised as
Santa Claus, will emerge from the opening in the imitation fire-place. A
great popular demonstration for Mr. Creamer will follow. He will then
advance to the footlights, and, rubbing his pillow and ducking his knees
to denote joviality, will say thickly through his false beard:

"Well, well, well, what have we here? A lot of bad little boys and girls
who aren't going to get any Christmas presents this year? (Nervous
laughter from the little boys and girls). Let me see, let me see! I have
a note here from Dr. Whidden. Let's see what it says. (Reads from a
paper on which there is obviously nothing written). 'If you and the
young people of the Intermediate Department will come into the Christian
Endeavor room, I think we may have a little surprise for you ...' Well,
well, well! What do you suppose it can be? (Cries of "I know, I know!"
from sophisticated ones in the audience). Maybe it is a bottle of
castor-oil! (Raucous jeers from the little boys and elaborately
simulated disgust on the part of the little girls.) Well, anyway,
suppose we go out and see? Now if Miss Liftnagle will oblige us with a
little march on the piano, we will all form in single file--"

At this point there will ensue a stampede toward the Christian Endeavor
room, in which chairs will be broken, decorations demolished, and the
protesting Mr. Creamer badly hurt.

This will bring to a close the first part of the entertainment.

VI

HOW TO WATCH A CHESS-MATCH

Second in the list of games which it is necessary for every sportsman to
know how to watch comes chess. If you don't know how to watch chess, the
chances are that you will never have any connection with the game
whatsoever. You would not, by any chance, be playing it yourself.

I know some very nice people that play chess, mind you, and I wouldn't
have thought that I was in any way spoofing at the game. I would sooner
spoof at the people who engineered the Panama Canal or who are drawing
up plans for the vehicular tunnel under the Hudson River. I am no man to
make light of chess and its adherents, although they might very well
make light of me. In fact, they have.

But what I say is, that taking society by and large, man and boy, the
chances are that chess would be the Farmer-Labor Party among the
contestants for sporting honors.

Now, since it is settled that you probably will not want to play chess,
unless you should be laid up with a bad knee-pan or something, it
follows that, if you want to know anything about the sport at all, you
will have to watch it from the side-lines. That is what this series of
lessons aims to teach you to do, (of course, if you are going to be
nasty and say that you don't want even to watch it, why all this time
has been, wasted on my part as well as on yours).

HOW TO FIND A GAME TO WATCH

The first problem confronting the chess spectator is to find some people
who are playing. The bigger the city, the harder it is to find anyone
indulging in chess. In a small town you can usually go straight to
Wilbur Tatnuck's General Store, and be fairly sure of finding a quiet
game in progress over behind the stove and the crate of pilot-biscuit,
but as you draw away from the mitten district you find the sporting
instinct of the population cropping out in other lines and chess
becoming more and more restricted to the sheltered corners of Y.M.C.A.
club-rooms and exclusive social organizations.

However, we shall have to suppose, in order to get any article written
at all, that you have found two people playing chess somewhere. They
probably will neither see nor hear you as you come up on them so you
can stand directly behind the one who is defending the south goal
without fear of detection.

THE DETAILS OF THE GAME

At first you may think that they are both dead, but a mirror held to the
lips of the nearest contestant will probably show moisture (unless, of
course, they really should be dead, which would be a horrible ending for
a little lark like this. I once heard of a murderer who propped his two
victims up against a chess board in sporting attitudes and was able to
get as far as Seattle before his crime was discovered).

Soon you will observe a slight twitching of an eye-lid or a moistening
of the lips and then, like a greatly retarded moving-picture of a person
passing the salt, one of the players will lift a chess-man from one spot
on the board and place it on another spot.

It would be best not to stand too close to the board at this time as you
are are likely to be trampled on in the excitement. For this action that
you have just witnessed corresponds to a run around right end in a
football game or a two-bagger in baseball, and is likely to cause
considerable enthusiasm on the one hand and deep depression on the
other. They may even forget themselves to the point of shifting their
feet or changing the hands on which they are resting their foreheads.
Almost anything is liable to happen.

When the commotion has died down a little, it will be safe for you to
walk around and stand behind the other player and wait there for the
next move. While waiting it would be best to stand with the weight of
your body evenly distributed between your two feet, for you will
probably be standing there a long time and if you bear down on one foot
all of the time, that foot is bound to get tired. A comfortable stance
for watching chess is with the feet slightly apart (perhaps a foot or a
foot and a half), with a slight bend at the knees to rest the legs and
the weight of the body thrown forward on the balls of the feet. A
rhythmic rising on the toes, holding the hands behind the back, the head
well up and the chest out, introduces a note of variety into the
position which will be welcome along about dusk.

Not knowing anything about the game, you will perhaps find it difficult
at first to keep your attention on the board. This can be accomplished
by means of several little optical tricks. For instance, if you look at
the black and white squares on the board very hard and for a very long
time, they will appear to jump about and change places. The black
squares will rise from the board about a quarter of an inch and slightly
overlap the white ones. Then, if you change focus suddenly, the white
squares will do the same thing to the black ones. And finally, after
doing this until someone asks you what you are looking cross-eyed for,
if you will shut your eyes tight you will see an exact reproduction of
the chess-board, done in pink and green, in your mind's eye. By this
time, the players will be almost ready for another move.

This will make two moves that you have watched. It is now time to get a
little fancy work into your game. About an hour will have already gone
by and you should be so thoroughly grounded in the fundamentals of chess
watching that you can proceed to the next step.

Have some one of your friends bring you a chair, a table and an old
pyrography outfit, together with some book-ends on which to burn a
design.

Seat yourself at the table in the chair and (if I remember the process
correctly) squeeze the bulb attached to the needle until the latter
becomes red hot. Then, grasping the book-ends in the left hand,
carefully trace around the pencilled design with the point of the
needle. It probably will be a picture of the Lion of Lucerne, and you
will let the needle slip on the way round the face, giving it the
appearance of having shaved in a Pullman that morning. But that really
won't make any difference, for the whole thing is not so much to do a
nice pair of book-ends as to help you along in watching the chess-match.

If you have any scruples against burning wood, you may knit something,
or paste stamps in an album.

And before you know it, the game will be over and you can put on your
things and go home.

VII

WATCHING BASEBALL

D.A.C. NEWS

Eighteen men play a game of baseball and eighteen thousand watch them,
and yet those who play are the only ones who have any official direction
in the matter of rules and regulations. The eighteen thousand are
allowed to run wild. They don't have even a Spalding's Guide containing
group photographs of model organizations of fans in Fall River, Mass.,
or the Junior Rooters of Lyons, Nebraska. Whatever course of behavior a
fan follows at a game he makes up for himself. This is, of course,
ridiculous.

The first set of official rulings for spectators at baseball games has
been formulated and is herewith reproduced. It is to be hoped that in
the general cleanup which the game is undergoing, the grandstand and
bleachers will not resent a little dictation from the authorities.

In the first place, there is the question of shouting encouragement, or
otherwise, at the players. There must be no more random screaming. It
is of course understood that the players are entirely dependent on the
advice offered them from the stands for their actions in the game, and
how is a batter to know what to do if, for instance, he hears a little
man in the bleachers shouting, "Wait for 'em, Wally! Wait for 'em," and
another little man in the south stand shouting "Take a crack at the
first one, Wally!"? What would you do? What would Lincoln have done?

The official advisers in the stands must work together. They must
remember that as the batter advances toward the plate he is listening
for them to give him his instructions, and if he hears conflicting
advice there is no telling what he may do. He may even have to decide
for himself.

Therefore, before each player goes to bat, there should be a conference
among the fans who have ideas on what his course of action should be,
and as soon as a majority have come to a decision, the advice should be
shouted to the player in unison under the direction of a cheer-leader.
If there are any dissenting opinions, they may be expressed in a
minority report.

In the matter of hostile remarks addressed at an unpopular player on the
visiting team, it would probably be better to leave the wording entirely
to the individual fans. Each man has his own talents in this sort of
thing and should be allowed to develop them along natural lines. In such
crises as these in which it becomes necessary to rattle the opposing
pitcher or prevent the visiting catcher from getting a difficult foul,
all considerations of good sportsmanship should be discarded. As a
matter of fact, it is doubtful if good sportsmanship should ever be
allowed to interfere with the fan's participation in a contest. The game
must be kept free from all softening influences.

One of the chief duties of the fan is to engage in arguments with the
man behind him. This department of the game has been allowed to run down
fearfully. A great many men go to a ball game today and never speak a
word to anyone other than the members of their own party or an
occasional word of cheer to a player. This is nothing short of craven.

An ardent supporter of the home-team should go to a game prepared to
take offense, no matter what happens. He should be equipped with a stock
of ready sallies which can be used regardless of what the argument is
about or what has gone before in the exchange of words. Among the more
popular nuggets of repartee, effective on all occasions, are the
following:

"Oh, is that so?"

"Eah?"

"How do you get that way?"

"Oh, is that so?"

"So are you."

"Aw, go have your hair bobbed."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"Who says so?"

"Eah? Well, I'll Cincinnati you."

"Oh, is that so?"

Any one of these, if hurled with sufficient venom, is good for ten
points. And it should always be borne in mind that there is no danger of
physical harm resulting from even the most ferocious-sounding argument.
Statistics gathered by the War Department show that the percentage of
actual blows struck in grandstand arguments is one in every 43,000,000.

For those fans who are occasionally obliged to take inexperienced
lady-friends to a game, a special set of rules has been drawn up. These
include the compulsory purchase of tickets in what is called the
"Explaining Section," a block of seats set aside by the management for
the purpose. The view of the diamond from this section is not very good,
but it doesn't matter, as the men wouldn't see anything of the game
anyway and the women can see just enough to give them material for
questions and to whet their curiosity. As everyone around you is
answering questions and trying to explain score-keeping, there is not
the embarrassment which is usually attendant on being overheard by
unattached fans in the vicinity. There is also not the distracting sound
of breaking pencils and modified cursing to interfere with unattached
fans' enjoyment of the game.

Absolutely no gentlemen with uninformed ladies will be admitted to the
main stand. In order to enforce this regulation, a short examination on
the rudiments of the game will take place at the gate, in which ladies
will be expected to answer briefly the following questions: (Women
examiners will be in attendance.)

1. What game is it that is being played on this field?

2. How many games have you seen before?

3. What is (a) a pitcher; (b) a base; (c) a bat?

4. What color uniform does the home-team wear?

5. What is the name of the home-team?

6. In the following sentence, cross out the incorrect statements,
leaving the correct one: The catcher stands (1) directly behind the
pitcher in the pitcher's box; (2) at the gate taking tickets; (3)
behind the batter; (4) at the bottom of the main aisle, selling
ginger-ale.

7. What again is the name of the game you expect to see played?

8. Do you cry easily?

9. Is there anything else you would rather be doing this afternoon?

10. If so, please go and do it.

It has been decided that the American baseball fan should have a
distinctive dress. A choice has been made from among the more popular
styles and the following has been designated as regulation, embodying,
as it does, the spirit and tone of the great national pastime.

Straw hat, worn well back on the head; one cigar, unlighted, held
between teeth; coat held across knees; vest worn but unbuttoned and
open, displaying both a belt and suspenders, with gold watch-chain
connecting the bottom pockets.

The vest may be an added expense to certain fans who do not wear vests
during the summer months, but it has been decided that it is absolutely
essential to the complete costume, and no true baseball enthusiast will
hesitate in complying.

VIII

HOW TO BE A SPECTATOR AT SPRING PLANTING

The danger in watching gardening, as in watching many other sports, is
that you may be drawn into it yourself. This you must fight against.
Your sinecure standing depends on a rigid abstinence from any of the
work itself. Once you stoop over to hold one end of a string for a
groaning planter, once you lift one shovelful of earth or toss out one
stone, you become a worker and a worker is an abomination in the eyes of
the true garden watcher.

A fence is, therefore, a great help. You may take up your position on
the other side of the fence from the garden and lean heavily against it
smoking a pipe, or you may even sit on it. Anything so long as you are
out of helping distance and yet near enough so that the worker will be
within easy range of your voice. You ought to be able to point a great
deal, also.

There is much to be watched during the early stages of
garden-preparation. Nothing is so satisfying as to lean ruminatingly
against a fence and observe the slow, rhythmic swing of the digger's
back or hear the repeated scraping of the shovel-edge against some
buried rock. It sometimes is a help to the digger to sing a chanty, just
to give him the beat. And then sometimes it is not. He will tell you in
case he doesn't need it.

There is always a great deal for the watcher to do in the nature of
comment on the soil. This is especially true if it is a new garden or
has never been cultivated before by the present owner. The idea is to
keep the owner from becoming too sanguine over the prospects.

"That soil looks pretty clayey," is a good thing to say. (It is hard to
say, clearly, too. You had better practise it before trying it out on
the gardener).

"I don't think that you'll have much luck with potatoes in that kind of
earth," is another helpful approach. It is even better to go at it the
other way, finding out first what the owner expects to plant. It may be
that he isn't going to plant any potatoes, and then there you are, stuck
with a perfectly dandy prediction which has no bearing on the case. It
is time enough to pull it after he has told you that he expects to plant
peas, beans, beets, corn. Then you can interrupt him and say: "Corn?"
incredulously. "You don't expect to get any corn in that soil do you?
Don't you know that corn requires a large percentage of bi-carbonate of
soda in the soil, and I don't think, from the looks, that there is an
ounce of soda bi-carb. in your whole plot. Even if the corn does come
up, it will be so tough you can't eat it."

Then you can laugh, and call out to a neighbor, or even to the man's
wife: "Hey, what do you know? Steve here thinks he's going to get some
corn up in this soil!"

The watcher will find plenty to do when the time comes to pick the
stones out of the freshly turned-over earth. It is his work to get upon
a high place where he can survey the whole garden and detect the more
obvious rocks.

"Here is a big fella over here, Steve," he may say. Or: "Just run your
rake a little over in that corner. I'll bet you'll find a nest of them
there."

"Plymouth Rock" is a funny thing to call any particularly offensive
boulder, and is sure to get a laugh, especially if you kid the digger
good-naturedly about being a Pilgrim and landing on it. He may even give
it to you to keep.

Just as a matter of convenience for the worker, watchers have sometimes
gone to the trouble of keeping count of the number of stones thrown
out. This is done by shouting out the count after each stone has been
tossed. It makes a sort of game of the thing, and in this spirit the
digger may be urged on to make a record.

"That's forty-eight, old man! Come on now, make her fifty. Attaboy,
forty-nine! Only one more to go. We-want-fifty-we-want-fifty-we-want
fifty."

And not only stones will be found, but queer objects which have got
themselves buried in the ground during the winter-months and have become
metamorphosed, so they are half way between one thing and another. As
the digger holds one of these _objets dirt_ gingerly between his thumb
and forefinger the watcher has plenty of opportunity to shout out:

"You'd better save that. It may come in handy some day. What is it,
Eddie? Your old beard?"

And funny cracks like that.

Here is where it is going to be difficult to keep to your resolution
about not helping. After the digging, and stoning, and turning-over has
been done, and the ground is all nice and soft and loamy, the idea of
running a rake softly over the susceptible surface and leaving a
beautiful even design in its wake, is almost too tempting to be
withstood.

[Illustration: "Atta boy, forty-nine: Only one more to go!"]

The worker himself will do all that he can to make it hard for you. He
will rake with evident delight, much longer than is necessary, back and
forth, across and back, cocking his head and surveying the pattern and
fixing it up along the edges with a care which is nothing short of
insulting considering the fact that the whole thing has got to be mussed
up again when the planting begins.

If you feel that you can no longer stand it without offering to assist,
get down from the fence and go into your own house and up to your own
room. There pray for strength. By the time you come down, the owner of
the garden ought to have stopped raking and got started on the planting.

Here the watcher's task is almost entirely advisory. And, for the first
part of the planting, he should lie low and say nothing. Wait until the
planter has got his rows marked out and has wobbled along on his knees
pressing the seeds into perhaps half the length of his first row. Then
say:

"Hey there, Charlie! You've got those rows going the wrong way."

Charlie will say no he hasn't. Then he will ask what you mean the wrong
way.

"Why, you poor cod, you've got them running north and south. They ought
to go east and west. The sun rises over there, doesn't it?" (Charlie
will attempt to deny this, but you must go right on.) "And it comes on
up behind that tree and over my roof and sets over there, doesn't it?"
(By this time, Charlie will be crying with rage.) "Well, just as soon as
your beans get up an inch or two they are going to cast a shadow right
down the whole row and only those in front will ever get any sun. You
can't grow things without sun, you know."

If Charlie takes you seriously and starts in to rearrange his rows in
the other direction, you might perhaps get down off the fence and go in
the house. You have done enough. If he doesn't take you seriously, you
surely had better go in.

IX

THE MANHATTADOR

Announcements have been made of a bull-fight to be held in Madison
Square Garden, New York, in which only the more humane features of the
Spanish institution are to be retained. The bull will not be killed, or
even hurt, and horses will not be used as bait.

If a bull-fight must be held, this is of course the way to hold it, but
what features are to be substituted for the playful gorings and
stabbings of the Madrid system? Something must be done to enrage the
bull, otherwise he will just sulk in a corner or walk out on the whole
affair. Following is a suggestion for the program of events:

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13