第11章

[If only we had not lost our Tails!]

A friend of mine thinks it a pity that we have lost our tails.He argues it would be so helpful if, like the dog, we possessed a tail that wagged when we were pleased, that stuck out straight when we were feeling mad.

"Now, do come and see us again soon," says our hostess; "don't wait to be asked.Drop in whenever you are passing."We take her at her word.The servant who answers our knocking says she "will see." There is a scuffling of feet, a murmur of hushed voices, a swift opening and closing of doors.We are shown into the drawing-room, the maid, breathless from her search, one supposes, having discovered that her mistress IS at home.We stand upon the hearthrug, clinging to our hat and stick as to things friendly and sympathetic: the suggestion forcing itself upon us is that of a visit to the dentist.

Our hostess enters wreathed in smiles.Is she really pleased to see us, or is she saying to herself, "Drat the man! Why must he choose the very morning I had intended to fix up the clean curtains?"But she has to pretend to be delighted, and ask us to stay to lunch.

It would save us hours of anxiety could we look beyond her smiling face to her tail peeping out saucily from a placket-hole.Is it wagging, or is it standing out rigid at right angles from her skirt?

But I fear by this time we should have taught our tails polite behaviour.We should have schooled them to wag enthusiastically the while we were growling savagely to ourselves.Man put on insincerity to hide his mind when he made himself a garment of fig-leaves to hide his body.

One sometimes wonders whether he has gained so very much.A small acquaintance of mine is being brought up on strange principles.

Whether his parents are mad or not is a matter of opinion.Their ideas are certainly peculiar.They encourage him rather than otherwise to tell the truth on all occasions.I am watching the experiment with interest.If you ask him what he thinks of you, he tells you.Some people don't ask him a second time.They say:

"What a very rude little boy you are!"

"But you insisted upon it," he explains; "I told you I'd rather not say."It does not comfort them in the least.Yet the result is, he is already an influence.People who have braved the ordeal, and emerged successfully, go about with swelled head.

[And little Boys would always tell the Truth!]

Politeness would seem to have been invented for the comfort of the undeserving.We let fall our rain of compliments upon the unjust and the just without distinction.Every hostess has provided us with the most charming evening of our life.Every guest has conferred a like blessing upon us by accepting our invitation.I remember a dear good lady in a small south German town organizing for one winter's day a sleighing party to the woods.A sleighing party differs from a picnic.The people who want each other cannot go off together and lose themselves, leaving the bores to find only each other.You are in close company from early morn till late at night.We were to drive twenty miles, six in a sledge, dine together in a lonely Wirtschaft, dance and sing songs, and afterwards drive home by moonlight.Success depends on every member of the company fitting into his place and assisting in the general harmony.Our chieftainess was fixing the final arrangements the evening before in the drawing-room of the pension.One place was still to spare.

"Tompkins!"

Two voices uttered the name simultaneously; three others immediately took up the refrain.Tompkins was our man--the cheeriest, merriest companion imaginable.Tompkins alone could be trusted to make the affair a success.Tompkins, who had only arrived that afternoon, was pointed out to our chieftainess.We could hear his good-tempered laugh from where we sat, grouped together at the other end of the room.Our chieftainess rose, and made for him direct.

Alas! she was a short-sighted lady--we had not thought of that.She returned in triumph, followed by a dismal-looking man I had met the year before in the Black Forest, and had hoped never to meet again.

I drew her aside.

"Whatever you do," I said, "don't ask -- " (I forget his name.One of these days I'll forget him altogether, and be happier.I will call him Johnson.) "He would turn the whole thing into a funeral before we were half-way there.I climbed a mountain with him once.

He makes you forget all your other troubles; that is the only thing he is good for.""But who is Johnson?" she demanded."Why, that's Johnson," Iexplained--"the thing you've brought over.Why on earth didn't you leave it alone? Where's your woman's instinct?""Great heavens!" she cried, "I thought it was Tompkins.I've invited him, and he's accepted."She was a stickler for politeness, and would not hear of his being told that he had been mistaken for an agreeable man, but that the error, most fortunately, had been discovered in time.He started a row with the driver of the sledge, and devoted the journey outwards to an argument on the fiscal question.He told the proprietor of the hotel what he thought of German cooking, and insisted on having the windows open.One of our party--a German student--sang, "Deutschland, Deutschland uber alles,"--which led to a heated discussion on the proper place of sentiment in literature, and a general denunciation by Johnson of Teutonic characteristics in general.We did not dance.Johnson said that, of course, he spoke only for himself, but the sight of middle-aged ladies and gentlemen catching hold of each other round the middle and jigging about like children was to him rather a saddening spectacle, but to the young such gambolling was natural.Let the young ones indulge themselves.

Only four of our party could claim to be under thirty with any hope of success.They were kind enough not to impress the fact upon us.

Johnson enlivened the journey back by a searching analysis of enjoyment: Of what did it really consist?