Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes

by Clifton Fadiman

  3 One night a writer came to see Chekhov and questioned him about his work. Chekhov told him that he considered his writing merely a diversion from his medical studies. “You want to know how I write my stories?” he asked the young writer. “Here!” And he picked up the first thing he looked at, which was an ashtray. “If you like, it will be a story tomorrow. ‘The Ashtray.’”

  CHERUBINI, Maria Luigi (1760–1842), Italian composer known mainly for his choral works.

  1 An acquaintance of Cherubini’s handed him a score, saying that it was by Étienne Méhul. Cherubini studied it. “This isn’t by Méhul, it’s too bad!” he said. “Then will you believe me if I tell you that it is mine?” asked the other man. “No,” Cherubini replied, “it’s too good.”

  2 Cherubini once granted an audition to a man possessed of a very powerful voice. Asked for a demonstration of his talents, he sang so forcefully that the windowpanes rattled. “Do you think anything can be made of me?” he asked Cherubini at the conclusion. “Certainly,” was the reply. “An auctioneer.”

  3 During Cherubini’s directorship of the Paris Conservatoire, a student who had written an opera that was being considered for production begged him to be present at the tryout. Cherubini consented. He listened to the first act, then the second, but uttered not a word of comment. The young composer, nervously haunting the box in which Cherubini sat, could no longer conceal his impatience. “Master, haven’t you anything to say to me?” Cherubini grasped the young man’s hands, replying kindly, “My poor chap, what can I say to you? I’ve been listening to you for two hours and you haven’t said anything to me either.”

  4 “What is worse than a flute?” mused Cherubini, and immediately supplied his own answer: “Two flutes.”

  CHESTERFIELD, Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of (1694–1773), British politician and writer.

  1 The popularity of the preacher George Whitefield was such that the Privy Council debated whether steps should be taken to prevent his vast evangelical rallies. Chesterfield listened, then struck in with a practical suggestion: “Make him a bishop, and you will silence him at once.”

  2 Lord Chesterfield’s sister, Lady Gertrude Hotham, was an active Methodist. When her brother fell ill, she tried to coax him into going to a Methodist seminary in Wales to recuperate, partly because she genuinely believed that the environment would improve his health, but also because she hoped to convert him to Methodism. She extolled the virtues of the place, in particular its views and its mountains. Lord Chesterfield, guessing her intentions, broke in, “I do not love mountains. When your ladyship’s faith has removed them, I will go thither with all my heart.”

  3 Increasing deafness, political disappointment, and the unsatisfactoriness and eventual death of his son and namesake Philip clouded Lord Chesterfield’s last years. His friend and contemporary Lord Tyrawley also suffered setbacks, being ignominiously dismissed from his post in Portugal in 1763 on the grounds that he was too old. Near the end of his life Chesterfield was asked by a mutual acquaintance how Lord Tyrawley was. He replied, “Tyrawley and I have been dead these two years, but we do not choose to have it known.”

  4 In the last few months of his life Lord Chesterfield was so infirm that when he rode in his carriage the horses were usually led at a slow walking pace. An acquaintance, meeting him on such an expedition, congratulated him on being able to take the air. His lordship thanked the man, adding, “I do not come out so much for the air, as for the benefit of rehearsing my funeral.”

  CHESTERTON, G[ilbert] K[eith] (1874–1936), British essayist and novelist who wrote a series of detective stories centered on the character of Father Brown, a Roman Catholic priest.

  1 Chesterton’s prosperous middle-class parents, wedded to respectability, attached great importance to “proper” speech and the right accent. At the age of three GKC must have known this. He once screamed for his hat: “If you don’t give it to me, I’ll say ‘AT’!”

  2 Chesterton was an imposing figure, very tall and burly. “Oh, Mr. Chesterton,” gushed an admirer, “how wonderful it must be to be so famous that everyone knows who you are.”

  “If they don’t, they soon ask,” he replied.

  3 Despite his large bulk, Chesterton had a mild falsetto voice, which he sometimes used to surprising effect. Before giving his first lecture on a tour of the United States, he was introduced in embarrassingly florid terms by a pompous and long-winded chairman. Sensing the audience’s restlessness, Chesterton got to his feet and murmured, “After the whirlwind, the still, small voice.”

  4 George Bernard Shaw, tall and thin, stood in vivid contrast to the corpulent Chesterton. They differed about other matters too. Once Shaw is reported to have said to Chesterton, “If I were as fat as you, I’d hang myself.” Chesterton replied amiably, “And if I had it in mind to hang myself, I’d use you as the rope.”

  5 Once when G. K. Chesterton’s economic views were abused in print by George Bernard Shaw, his friends waited in vain for him to reply. Historian Hilaire Belloc reproached him.

  “My dear Belloc,” Chesterton said, “I have answered him. To a man of Shaw’s wit, silence is the one unbearable repartee.”

  6 Chesterton’s vast bulk afforded him certain consolations. He once remarked that it gave him opportunity for gallantry. “Just the other day in the Underground I enjoyed the pleasure of offering my seat to three ladies.”

  7 During World War I, a young lady handing out white feathers in Fleet Street accosted Chesterton with the question: “Why are you not out at the front?”

  “My dear madam,” replied the portly novelist, “if you will step round this way a little, you will see that I am.”

  8 G. K. Chesterton was not embarrassed by his girth. In Pittsburgh he told a delighted audience: “I want to reassure you I am not this size, really — dear me, no. I’m being amplified by the mike.”

  9 Chesterton’s mind was so preoccupied that he frequently forgot to keep appointments and was obliged to write apologetic notes explaining his absence. He once astonished his publisher by arriving punctually at the agreed hour. He then handed the man a letter containing an elaborate explanation of why he was unable to keep the appointment.

  10 The absentminded Chesterton was devoted to his mother. When he became engaged to be married, he was so eager to share the happy event with her that he went straight home and wrote her a long letter. Mrs. Chesterton was delighted with her son’s news, although she was not at all surprised to receive his letter. She was in the room with him when he wrote it.

  11 “Chesterton relied on his wife in all practical matters. Once on a lecture tour he sent her the following telegram: ‘Am in Birmingham. Where ought I to be?’ She wired back: ‘Home.’”

  12 Alexander Woollcott met Chesterton for lunch at a London restaurant. Chesterton expounded on various philosophical topics, including the relationship between power and authority. “If a rhinoceros were to enter this restaurant now, there is no denying he would have great power here. But I should be the first to rise and assure him that he had no authority whatsoever.”

  13 Chesterton was once asked what books he would most like to have with him if he were stranded on a desert island. “Thomas’s Guide to Practical Shipbuilding,” he replied.

  14 On his American travels, Chesterton was taken one night to view the brilliant lights of Broadway blazing the names of brand products and shows through the blackness. After staring at the spectacle for a few minutes Chesterton remarked, “How beautiful it would be for someone who could not read.”

  15 Chesterton was once chided by a magazine editor about his increasing size: “Ah, Gilbert, pregnant, I see.” Chesterton replied, “Well, at least I don’t suffer from your monthly periodicals.”

  CHEVALIER, Maurice (1888–1972), French singer and actor.

  1 Chevalier was once asked why he had chosen to remain a bachelor. “You’re not going to believe this,” he replied, “but it’s for a very good reason. When I get up in the morning, I lik
e to have the choice of getting out of bed from either side.”

  2 Chatting to comedian Phil Silvers backstage, the seventy-three-year-old Chevalier heaved a deep sigh as a group of pretty showgirls trooped past them. “Ah, if only I were twenty years older,” he said. “Don’t you mean twenty years younger?” asked Silvers. “No,” replied Chevalier. “If I were twenty years older, then these girls would not bother me the way they do.”

  CHIGI, Agostino (1465?-1520), wealthy Italian banker, who lived at the Villa Farnese in Rome.

  1 When Agostino Chigi held dinner parties al fresco at the Villa Farnese, overlooking the Tiber, he would impress his guests by instructing them to jettison their dishes and cutlery into the river at the end of each course. The gesture was less extravagant than it seemed, however, for the banker had had the servants rig up nets just below the surface of the water before each party, so that none of his valuable tableware was lost forever in the mud of the Tiber.

  CHOATE, Joseph Hodges (1832–1917), US lawyer and diplomat.

  1 Choate was asked at a private dinner who he would like to be if he were not himself. He thought rapidly through a list of world celebrities, and then, catching his wife’s eye, said, “If I could not be myself, I would like to be Mrs. Choate’s second husband.”

  2 Once during a Supreme Court hearing it was pointed out to Choate that he was arguing directly contrary to what was stated in his brief. Choate was not at all abashed. “Oh well, I have learned a great deal about the case since the brief was prepared.”

  3 Fellow-lawyer Chauncey M. Depew was a rival wit with whom Choate had many skirmishes. At one dinner Depew introduced Choate with the words, “If you open Mr. Choate’s mouth and drop in a dinner, up will come a speech.” When Choate rose to speak he began, “Mr. Depew says that if you open my mouth and drop in a dinner, up will come a speech. But I warn you that if you open your mouths and drop in one of Mr. Depew’s speeches, up will come your dinners.”

  4 Visiting at a certain ducal residence, Choate happened to be standing near the front door when an English nobleman came into the hall and, mistaking him for the butler, said to him, “Call me a cab.”

  “You are a cab,” Choate obligingly replied.

  The nobleman complained to his host and was gently told that Choate was the American ambassador. At this the nobleman returned to Choate to apologize. Choate said, “Pray don’t apologize. If I had known who you were, I would have called you a hansom cab.”

  5 In a case at the New York courts Choate was opposed by an attorney from Westchester County, a residential area lying north of New York City. The attorney, having a poor case, fell back upon an attempt to belittle Choate, ending with a warning to the jury not to be taken in by Choate’s “Chesterfieldian urbanity.” Choate waited until his summing up, then urged the jury not to be unduly influenced by “my opponent’s Westchesterfieldian suburbanity.”

  CHOPIN, Frédéric (1810–49), Polish composer and pianist.

  1 Chopin was lionized by Parisian hostesses who imposed upon him by inviting him to dinner and then asking him to play something by way of free entertainment. One lady was particularly unsubtle in her approach, so much so that Chopin murmured in response to the inevitable request, “But, madame, I have eaten so little!”

  2 Chopin was extremely fastidious; one point on which he was particularly sensitive was the physical appearance of his manuscripts. Knowing this, a friend to whom Chopin lent the manuscript score of his Concerto in E Minor donned white gloves to turn the pages and returned the manuscript to the composer without a spot or mark upon it. On opening it Chopin grimaced with displeasure. “My dear fellow, you were smoking when you read it!” he exclaimed.

  CHRISTIAN X (1870–1947), king of Denmark (1912–47).

  1 During the occupation, but before his imprisonment, the king noticed a Nazi flag flying over a Danish public building. He immediately called the German commandant, demanding that the flag be taken down at once. The commandant refused to comply with the king’s request. “Then a soldier will go and take it down,” said the king. “He will be shot,” returned the commandant. “I think not,” replied the king, “for I shall be the soldier.”

  The flag was taken down.

  CHRISTIE, Dame Agatha (1891–1976), British writer of detective fiction, creator of the Belgian detective Hercule Poirot.

  1 Agatha Christie’s second husband, Max Mal-lowan, was a distinguished archaeologist who made his name excavating in Mesopotamia. On her return with her husband from the Middle East Miss Christie was asked how she felt about being married to a man whose interest lay in antiquities. “An archaeologist is the best husband any woman can have,” she said. “The older she gets, the more interested he is in her.”

  2 In 1977, a young Arab girl was flown to England in a semiconscious state and admitted to a London hospital. The doctors were baffled by her condition, which continued to deteriorate over the next five days. On the sixth day, the child began to lose her hair. The nurse watching over her was suddenly struck by the similarity of her symptoms to those of a series of murder victims in Agatha Christie’s The Pale Horse, which she was reading at the time. The fictional characters had been killed by thallium poisoning; subsequent tests on the Arab girl revealed that she had high levels of thallium in her urine. Three weeks later, the child was fit enough to return home, and the case was written up in the British Journal of Hospital Medicine, with a note of thanks to the observant nurse and the late Dame Agatha Christie.

  CHRISTINA (1626–89), queen of Sweden (1644–54).

  1 Having abdicated, Christina journeyed south through Europe and in Innsbruck was received into the Roman Catholic Church, no doubt to the huge satisfaction of the local priests, who made a grand ceremony out of her abjuration. After the solemn ritual in the cathedral, the next item on Christina’s agenda in Innsbruck was a visit to the theater. “It is only fair,” she remarked, “that you should treat me to a comedy, after I have treated you to a farce.”

  CHURCHILL, Randolph Frederick Edward Spencer (1911–68), British journalist, son of Sir Winston Churchill.

  1 Randolph Churchill never won a contested election, though he was a member of Parliament for Preston during the wartime coalition in the 1940s. People naturally speculated that this failure to emulate his father was an embittering factor in his life. Someone, possibly Noël Coward, unkindly remarked, “I’m so fond of Randolph. He’s quite unspoiled by his many failures.”

  2 Churchill was known for his temperamental character, and for his rudeness to complete strangers. Once, during a dinner party, he shouted at an executive of British petroleum, “You have nothing to contribute to this. You are only a clerk in an oil store.” When a tumor was discovered in his lung (he was a chain smoker), many people openly hoped for the worst. But it was discovered to be benign. When Lord Stanley of Alderberry learned Churchill would make a complete recovery, he remarked, “What a pity to remove the one part of Randolph that is not malignant.”

  CHURCHILL, Lord Randolph Henry Spencer (1849–95), British politician, father of Winston Churchill.

  1 Lord Randolph Churchill was buttonholed on the stairs of his club by the resident bore, who embarked on a long-winded tale. In desperation Lord Randolph summoned a footman. “Listen until his lordship finishes,” he instructed the man and made his escape.

  CHURCHILL, Sir Winston (1874–1965), British statesman, prime minister during and after World War II.

  1 In the early 1900s, Churchill gave a lecture on his escape from prison during the Boer War. He had been provided with a large map of the relevant part of South Africa, which he used from time to time during the talk. Describing his movements immediately after the escape, he suddenly broke off, looked closely at the map, and carefully placed the tip of his pointer on a tiny dot. “That’s me!” he announced.

  2 As a young subaltern Churchill sported a mustache. At a smart dinner he fell into argument with a grand dowager who, thinking to quell him, snapped, “Young man, I care for neith
er your politics nor your mustache.”

  “Madam,” responded Churchill, “you are unlikely to come into contact with either.”

  3 Soon after Edward Marsh became Churchill’s private secretary in 1905, he accompanied Churchill on an election campaign in his Manchester constituency. Their canvassing took them into the slums. Churchill looked at the rows and rows of squalid little houses with horror. “Fancy living in one of these streets,” he observed to Marsh, “never seeing anything beautiful, never eating anything savory — never saying anything clever!”

  4 Edward Marsh was waiting at a railroad station with Mrs. Churchill for Churchill to join them to catch a train. It was getting late and Mrs. Churchill began to worry that her husband would miss the train. Marsh soothed her by observing, “Winston is such a sports man that he always gives the train a chance to get away.”

  5 (Violet Asquith describes a conversation with Churchill at the dinner-table.)

  “For a long time he remained sunk in abstraction. Then he appeared to become suddenly aware of my existence. He turned on me a lowering gaze and asked me how old I was. I replied that I was nineteen.

  “ ‘And I,’ he said almost despairingly, ‘am thirty-two already.’

  “On reflection he added thoughtfully, ‘Younger than anyone else who counts, though.’ Then, savagely, ‘Curse ruthless time! Curse our mortality. How cruelly short is the allotted span for all we must cram into it!’ He burst into a diatribe about the brevity of life and ended: ‘We are all worms. But I do believe that I am a glowworm.’ ”

  6 A group of political friends who had achieved high office comparatively early in life were discussing their careers. Someone asked whether they had ever expected to be where they were then. They all said, “No,” with the exception of Churchill, who was then home secretary at the age of thirty-five. “Yes,” he said. “Napoleon won Austerlitz at my age.”