The Genial Idiot: His Views and Reviews
Page 19
XVIII
FOR A HAPPY CHRISTMAS
"I have a request to make of you gentlemen," observed the Idiot, as thelast buckwheat-cake of his daily allotment disappeared within. "And Isincerely hope you will all grant it. It won't cost you anything, andwill save you a lot of trouble."
"I promise beforehand under such conditions," said the Doctor. "Thepromise that doesn't cost anything and saves a lot of trouble is thekind I like to make."
"Same here," said Mr. Brief.
"None for me," said the Bibliomaniac. "My confidence in the Idiot'sprophecies is about as great as a defeated statesman's popularplurality. My experience with him teaches me that when he signals notrouble ahead then is the time to look out for squalls. Therefore, youcan count me out on this promise he wants us to make."
"All right," said the Idiot. "To tell the truth, I didn't think you'dcome in because I didn't believe you could qualify. You see, the promiseI was going to ask you to make presupposes a certain condition which youdon't fulfil. I was going to ask you, gentlemen, when Christmas comes togive me not the rich and beautiful gifts you contemplate putting into mystocking, but their equivalent in cash. Now you, Mr. Bib, never gave meanything at Christmas but advice, and your advice has no cash equivalentthat I could ever find out, and even if it had I'm long on it now. Thatpiece of advice you gave me last March about getting my head shaved soas to give my brain a little air I've never been able to use, and yourkind suggestion of last August, that I ought to have my head cut off asa sure cure of chronic appendicitis, which you were certain I had,doctors tell me would be conducive to heart failure, which is far morefatal than the original disease. The only use to which I can put it, onmy word of honor, is to give it back to you this Christmas with my bestwishes."
"Bosh!" sneered the Bibliomaniac.
"It was, indeed," said the Idiot. "And there isn't any market for it.But the rest of you gentlemen will really delight my soul if you will doas I ask. You, Mr. Brief--what is the use of your paying out large sumsof money, devoting hour after hour of your time, and practically riskingyour neck in choosing it, for a motor-car for me, when, as a matter offact, I'd rather have the money? What's the use of giving thirty-sixhundred dollars for an automobile to put in my stocking when I'd behappier if you'd give me a certified check for twenty-five hundreddollars? You couldn't get any such discount from the manufacturers, andI'd be more greatly pleased into the bargain. And you, Doctor--generousheart, that you are--why in thunder should you wear yourself out betweennow and Christmas-day looking for an eighteen-hundred-dollar fur-linedovercoat for me, when, as a matter of actual truth, I'd prefer atwenty-two-dollar ulster with ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills in thechange-pocket?"
"I'm sure I don't see why I should," said the Doctor. "And I promise youI won't. What's more, I'll give you the ulster and the ten crisp onehundred dollars without fail if you'll cash my check for eighteenhundred dollars and give me the change."
"Certainly," said the Idiot. "How will you have it, in dimes ornickels?"
"Any way you please," said the Doctor, with a wink at Mr. Brief.
"All right," returned the Idiot. "Send up the ulster and the ten crispsand I'll give you my check for the balance. Then I'll do the same byyou, Mr. Poet. My policy involves a square deal for everybody whateverhis previous condition of servitude. Last year, you may remember, yousent me a cigar and a lovely little poem of your own composition:
"When I am blue as indigo, you wrote, And cold as is the Arctic snow, Give me no megrims rotting. I choose the friend The Heavens send Who takes me Idiyachting.
Remember that? Well, it was a mighty nice present, and I wouldn't sellit for a million abandoned farms up in New Hampshire, but this year I'drather have the money--say one thousand dollars and five cents--athousand dollars instead of the poem and five cents in place of thecigar."
"I am afraid you value my verse too high," smiled the Poet.
"Not that one," said the Idiot. "The mere words don't amount to much. Icould probably buy twice as many just as good for four dollars, but theway in which you arranged them, and the sentiment they conveyed, madethem practically priceless to me. I set their value at a thousanddollars because that is the minimum sum at which I can be tempted topart with things that on principle I should always like to keep--likemy word of honor, my conscience, my political views, and other things afellow shouldn't let go of for minor considerations. The value of thecigar I may have placed too high, but the poem--never."
"And yet you don't want another?" asked the Poet, reproachfully.
"Indeed I do," returned the Idiot, "but I can't afford to own so muchliterary property any more than I can afford to possess Mr. Brief'sautomobile--and this is precisely what I am driving at. So many peoplenowadays present us at Christmas with objects we can't afford to own,that we cannot possibly repay, and overwhelm us with luxuries when weare starving for our necessities, so that Christmas, instead of bringinghappiness with it, brings trial and tribulation. I know of a case lastyear where a very generous-hearted individual sent a set of Ruskin,superbly bound in full calf that would have set the Bibliomaniac herecrazy with joy, to a widow who had just pawned her wedding-ring to buy aChristmas turkey for her children. A bundle of kindling-wood would havebeen far more welcome than a Carnegie library at that moment, and yethere was a generous soul who was ready to spend a good hundred dollarsto make the recipient happy. Do you suppose the lady looked upon thatsumptuous Ruskin with anything but misery in her heart?"
"Oh, well, she could have pawned that instead of her wedding-ring,"sniffed the Bibliomaniac.
"She couldn't for two reasons," said the Idiot. "In the first place, hersensibilities were such that she could not have pawned a present justreceived, and, in the second place, she lived in the town of Hohokus onthe Nepperhan, and there isn't a pawnshop within a radius of fifty milesof her home. Besides, it's easier to sneak into a pawnshop with awedding-ring for your collateral than to drive up with a van big enoughto hold a complete set of Ruskin bound in full calf. It takes nerve andexperience to do that with a cool and careless _mien_, and, whatever youmay have in that respect, Mr. Bib, there are few refined widows inreduced circumstances who are similarly gifted. Then take the case of myfriend Billups--some sharp of a tailor got out a judgment againstBillups for ninety-eight dollars for a bill he couldn't pay on thefifteenth of December. Billups got his name in the papers, and receivedenough notoriety to fill him with ambition to go on the stage, and itnearly killed him, and what do you suppose his friends did whenChristmas came around? Did they pay off that judgment and relieve him ofthe odium of having his name chalked up on the public slate? Not they.They sent him forty dollars' worth of golf-clubs, sixteen dollars' worthof cuff-buttons, eight ten-dollar umbrellas, a half-dozen silvermatch-boxes, a cigar-cutter, and about two hundred dollars' worth ofother trash that he's got to pay storage-room for. And on top of that,in order to keep up his end, Billups has had to hang up a lot oftradesmen for the match-cases and cigar-cutters and umbrellas and trashhe's sent to his generous friends in return for their generosity."
"Oh, rot," interrupted the Bibliomaniac. "What an idiot your friendBillups must be. Why didn't he send the presents he received to others,and so saved his money to pay his debts with?"
"Well, I guess he didn't think of that," said the Idiot. "We haven't allgot the science of Christmas-giving down as fine as you have, Mr. Bib.But that is a valuable suggestion of yours and I'll put it down amongthe things that can be done in the plan I am formulating for thepainless Christmas."
"We can't relieve one another's necessities unless we know what theyare, can we?" asked Mr. Whitechoker.
"We can if we adopt my cash system," said the Idiot. "For instance, Iknow that I need a dozen pairs of new socks. Modesty would prevent myannouncing this fact to the world, and as long as I wear shoes you'dnever find it out, but if, when Christmas came, you gave me twenty-fivedollars instead of Foxe's _Book of Martyrs_ in words of one syllable,you would rel
ieve my necessities and so earn my everlasting gratitude.Dr. Capsule here wouldn't acknowledge to you or to me that hissuspenders are held together in three places with safety-pins, and willso continue to be until these prosperous times moderate; but if we wereto present him with nine dollars and sixty-eight cents on Christmasmorning, we should discern a look of gratitude in his eye on thatsuspender account that would be missing if we were to hand him out aseven-dollar gold-mounted shaving-mug instead. We should have shown ourgenerous spirit on his behalf, which is all a Christmas present everdoes, whether it is a diamond tiara or a chain of sausages, and at thesame time have relieved his anxieties about his braces. His gratitudewould be double-barrelled, and his happiness a surer shot. Give us themoney, say I, and let us relieve our necessities first, and then ifthere is anything left over we can buy some memorial of the day with thebalance."
"Well, I think it's a pretty good plan," said Mrs. Pedagog. "It wouldsave a lot of waste, anyhow. But it isn't possible for all of us to doit, Mr. Idiot. I, for instance, haven't any money to give you."
"You could give me something better," said the Idiot. "I wouldn't acceptany money from you for a Christmas present."
"Then what shall it be?" asked the Landlady.
"Well--a receipt in full for my bill to date," said the Idiot.
"Mercy!" cried the Landlady. "I couldn't afford that--"
"Oh, yes you could," said the Idiot. "Because for your Christmas I'dgive you a check in full for the amount."
"Oh--I see," smiled the Landlady. "Then what do we get for ourChristmas? Strikes me it's about as broad as it is long."
"Precisely," said the Idiot. "We get even--and that's about as conduciveto a happy Christmas, to Peace on Earth and Good-will to men, as anycondition I know of. If I can get square for Christmas I don't wantanything else."
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
Punctuation has been standardised. Spelling has been retained as in the original publication except as follows:
Page 29 do you think or that _changed to_ do you think of that
Page 52 its as easy as rolling _changed to_ it's as easy as rolling
Page 75 went there several ways _changed to_ went their several ways
I think its abominable _changed to_ I think it's abominable
Page 102 a bag of aniseseed _changed to_ a bag of ainse seed
Page 150 said the Idiot, gratefuly _changed to_ said the Idiot, gratefully
Page 156 Tchaikowski, to be well _changed to_ Tchaikowsky, to be well