at the green goose wyndham db lewis

7/29/2019 At the Green Goose Wyndham Db Lewis

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AT THE GREEN GOOSE

D. B.W.LEWIS.


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LIBRARYUNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

RIVERSIDE


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At the Green Goose


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" Je crye (i toutes gens merciz."Villon.


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^J the GreenGooseBY

D. B. W. LEWISf''.

HODDER AND STOUGHTONLIMITED LONDON


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A considerable number of the improbabilities contained inthis book are reprinted by courtesy of the " Daily Express."

Made and frinted in Great Btitain.HaxiU, WcUson & Viiuy, Ui., Londun and Aylabury.


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At the Green Goose


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At the Green GoosePunctually as the clock struck eightProfessor Silas Plodsnitch, that great poet,philosopher, and neo-Pantagruelist, briskly-entered the smoking-room of the GreenGoose, called for coffee, lit his wooden pipe,coughed twice, and addressed the companyas follows :

'* While everyone," said the Professor,** must loathe being inspected, none can hateit quite so much as men who make beeswork for them. They are, those whom Ihave met, peculiarly irritable fellows, withan absurd superstition that they cannot bestung. I once stayed with one such fellow,having crammed up beforehand all thatVergil, Dr. Watts, and Maeterlinck couldtell me ; but to all my offers of help this

7


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8 At the Green Goosemorose beekeeper replied with harsh howlsof * Keep away, keep awayJ I told himroundly that his battening on the labour ofhard-working (but surely dull) insects wasa disgusting and anti-social spectacle. ' Doyour wretched bees/ I said^ ' know thatthey are slaving themselves to death to keepa fat, healthy, bad-tempered man in luxury ? *He replied, ' Keep away^ keep away.' Iam glad to say that one of his own bees,after hearing my discourse, up and stunghim in the neck.

'' So I am rather sorry in this case thatthis Bill they have been discussing for en-suring the constant inspection of beehivesdid not pass. I should like to see my bee-sweating friend encompassed with swarmsof inspectors who would insist on his trottingevery separate bee out to be inspected forglanders, or coughing, or the staggers, orwhatever disease bees get. Not much usehis crying * Keep away, keep away/ then.It would probably annoy the bees as well.


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At the Green Gooseand everyone would be damnably stung*It is a scene from which the fancy turnswith the liveliest regret,

** And yet/^ said the Professor, raisinghis voice, *' you will note that an officialof the Bureau of Entomology at Washingtonhas invented a device which you place atthe entrance to a beehive* It registers theincoming or outgoing of every bee in thathive during the day, and no bee can leaveor enter without being counted. In thisway, I suppose, a stricter account is keptof the amount of work bees do for stout andidle men, and there should never occuragain such a correspondence as there wasrecently in the Beekeepers' Gazette between* Puzded ' and the Editor* It was ' Pu2;2led'who set up a howl because a favouriteswarm of bees was missing and his liveli-hood appeared to be following suit, sincehe was a notable bee-sweater and apiarianexploiter*

** And it was the Editor of the Bee-2


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10 At the Green Goosekeepers' Gazette who, after the strangedisappearance had been discussed in hiscolumns for some weeks, closed it byasking suddenly, * Have you looked inyour heard i * Thus the mystery wassolved/*The Professor paused a moment and

resumed in a mild voice : '* For three-pence you can buy the index to the Esti-mates for Civil Services for the year endingMarch 31, which I have been lookingthrough with some interest. I calculate,after reading under the index letter * 1/that every third man in these islands isan inspector of something or otheragri-culture, aliens, alkali works, ancient monu-ments, audits, bankruptcy, canal boats, ex-plosives, fisheries, inebriates, milk, mines,prisons, town planning . . heaven knowswhat beside* This does not include, Isuppose, the hordes of sub-inspectors,assistant inspectors, and pupil-inspectors(at present taking a correspondence course).


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At the Green Goose iinor yet the Inspector of Inspectors and hisstaff,

"' No doubt there is a certain amount ofjealousy in the profession, I should thinkan Inspector of Ancient Monuments wouldirritate an Inspector in Bankruptcy ex-tremely by dropping in for a chat whenas at presenteverybody is going bankrupt,and he is inspecting them a platoon at atime, ' Care for a rubber of bridge ? *

says the Ancient Monuments man, yawning,* What about my bankrupts ? ' snarls theother bitterly, inspecting a fat stockbroker,(' You'shun ! Dismiss ! *) * *Pon mysoul/ says the Ancient Monuments man,* it's 3l hard life. Lend me a telescope,will you ? . . . . Thanks. . , Yes, it'sstill there,' He gets out his notebookand writes :

'' ^4,30 p.m. ; Inspected dome of St. PauVs.Dome still in position*

** * Still/ continues the Ancient Monu-ments man, yawning again, * you haven't


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12 At the Green Goosegot the responsibilities of some of us* Theconstant strain of looking after AncientMonuments, my boy *

** At this point, I should think/' observedthe Professor, ** the maddened Inspector inBankruptcy flies at him and bites him inthe leg* Quick, send for an Inspector inLunacy* (Hark at the bankrupts howling !)Hullo, they've sent us an Inspector ofCanal Boats. Never mind. The chiefthing is to make out the report intriplicate.

** But while we are on this topic," addedProfessor Plodsnitch angrily, ** permit meto observe that as I was glancing yesterdaythrough a slim volume of new verse by alittle-known poet my eye was attracted bya short poem which began :

* t Bring in the body . . .'And I fell at once to wondering how thisline should be recited by the usual wild-eyed young thing in a green jumper and


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At the Green Goose 13yellow bobbed hair at a Chelsea poetry tea.Let us consider. There are four possibleways of accenting this striking line :

(a) Bring in the body ;(6) Bring in the body ;(c) Bring in the body ;(d) Bring in the body ;

And a great deal depends on the accent,as you will see.

** If the line should be accented as in{d)f for example, it assumes that somebodyis loitering outside with the body, and thepoet is indignant about it. * Bring in thebody, there.' ' Yessir. Now then, George.'If (h) is correct, then the persons respon-sible are evidently undecided whether tobring the body into the parlour or takeit upstairs ; in fact you can hear thembreathing hard on the staircase. ' Bringin the body, there.' * He wants it inside,George. Easy there. When I says ** Tome " '


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14 At the Green Goose** But if (c) is meant, then it assumes

that there are two or more bodies knockingabout, and the poet wants only the body in*Too many bodies block a parlour, and theymay as well leave Aunt Jane in the hall;thus if any mistake is made it is easy todash out with Aunt Jane and exchange herfor Uncle James, or vice versa*

*' Finally, if {d) is the right accentuation,then there is a mixed assortment of thingswaiting to be brought intrunks, perhaps,and a parrot in a cage, hatboxes, and soforth. The poet then indicates that hedoes not want to unpack, feed the parrot, ortry on his new hat from Scott's. ' Bring inthe hody^ there.' *Ay, ay, sir. George,drop that there 'atbox. It's the body 'ewants. Jump to it, my lad.'

'^ So there we are," concluded the Pro-fessor. ** It is, indeed, a problem, is itnot ? "But as nobody answered him. Professor

Plodsnitch drained his coffee cup and then,


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At the Green Goose 15speaking very loudly, addressed the companythus :

'' I see that some industrial body orother is to discuss what steps can be takento brighten factories by the introductionof colour schemes, pictures, and decora-tions* Music as an aid to work will alsobe discussed ; I fancy it has already beentried by some firms and proved a distinctsuccess. Whether pictures will have thesame effect is, perhaps, not so sure. Whatkind of pictures would you recommend,say, for a glue factory ? Naturally not thekind that would do for a factory where theymake poppet-valves for the high-pressureengines which drive the blasting apparatuswhich blasts the holes in Gruyere cheese.The atmosphere of the one is placid andglutinous : the other is a hive of rest-less and explosive clamour. It is again aproblem.

** And having hung your pictures,'* pro-ceeded the Professor, '' whatever they are.


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1 At the Green Goosehow will you guarantee that they have theright effect ? It would be a bad day forthe glue industry when a foreman, up-braiding a master gluemaker for sittingwith his arms folded, was addressed byhim as follows : * It is, you will admit,impossible to concentrate strictly on theminutiae of glue making when one is obsessedwith doubts as to the authenticity of theattribution of this excellent canvas beforeme; for undoubtedly the painter, thoughpossessing a certain flair for the plein airmannerperhaps imbued with all the en-thusiasm of the Barbizon schoolhas notthat grasp of morhidezza which entitles himto '

** Every glue consumer will agree thatthis is quite impossible. And, again, animpressionable cheese-blaster confrontedwith the Gioconda might easily blast awaya whole cheese under the influence of thesmile of Monna Lisa* That would becertain to harm the industry, for even a


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At the Green Goose 17connoisseur does not care for his Gruyereto be all hole/*So saying the Professor rose, bowed

gracefully to all present, seized his hat, andbriskly departed.


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At the Green Goose II


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At the Green Goose IIIt had sleeted heavily all day, but ceasedtowards evening, when just after eighto^clock Professor Plodsnitch entered theGreen Goose quickly and called in a loudvoice for coffee and brandy. He thensnee2;ed twice and spoke as follows :

'* I suppose one calls it snowthe stuffthat has poured down on London to-day.I looked out early from a window thatoverhangs a lawn ; the sky was still staineda lovely rose-colour, and a thrush, or ablackbirdanyway, the sort of bird thatgets up early and tweedles^was tweedlingaway in a larch ; or perhaps it was abirch* When I looked out again andshivered, the snow, if you agree on thatterm, was falling, and the lark, or what-ever it was, had decided that this was no


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22 At the Green Gooseweather for tweedling in a copper beech^Such birds lack stamina: not British, Ishould say,

** What struck me most about to-day'ssnow/' resumed the Professor, ** was thatit was not the sort of weather to turn aheroine out in, A really good snowstormthat sticks is another matter. But I begyou to imagine the ridiculous position ofa heroine turned out-of-doors, with LittleWillie, into the sort of snow that turns intothin mush directly it touches you. Thewickedest of baronets would be touched byit. ' Girl,' Sir Jasper would say, clutchingher by the shoulder, ' this is no weatherfor you. You're only getting damp. Youlook grotesque. You're making me looka fool, too. Cerr-ewell I may be,' says SirJasper feelingly, ' but let nobody say I wasungentlemanly enough to expose a lady toridicule. Come in, girl, come in. To-morrow, if there is real snow, I will flingyou and the chee-ild out again. But to-


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At the Green Goose 23day, no. Snooks, a cup of tea for MissAngela and Master Willie/ I should thinkso too/'The Professor gulped a cup of hot coffee

and continued, glancing at a newspaper onthe table :

'* Somebody, I see, is advertising*' * (^RAVE at Brompton for sale ;

hold four. What offers ?And, no doubt, it is worth going to see,if you do not insist on immediate possession.I knew a man in the Sanjak of Novi-Ba^arwho bought a grave to hold four at a ridicu-lously high price, and had endless troublein filling it. His friends were never athome when he called, and it was somemonths before he got the first of them bya lucky shot on a dark night. A longtime afterwards he got two more by givinga little supper party, and after that itseemed that he would never justify his


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24 At the Green Goosetrouble and expense. This made himmelancholy.

** One day as this fellow was walking pastthis grave with a learned man, bewailinghis bad luck and bemoaning the times,he observed that the learned man was verysilent. And presently the learned mansighed and looked on him steadfastly, andsaid, * I perceive that your distemper iscaused, not by a lack, but by a surfeit ofthis world's blessings. For myself, Islew my aunt yesterday with no littlerelish, though I was compelled (throughpoverty) to throw her afterwards to thecrows. You cannot say that I am asbored and fretful as you, who have awell-appointed grave to put your friendsin.'

** * Is there any pleasure,* returned hisfriend querulously, * which is worth thepains of getting ? *

** * I should like notice of that question,'replied the learned man thoughtfully, stab-


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At the Green Goose 25bing him twice in the back with a daggerwhich he had brought for that purpose,* I should Hke notice of that/

** He then pushed the body into thevacant place and paced homewards, deepin meditation,

'' And that/' said the Professor slowly,lighting his pipe, '* reminds me that a certainPerson of Importance who has just returnedfrom an American tour was impressedwith the eagerness of his American friendsto visit London, which they look on as thesocial centre of the world* * The fact thatwe have such a number of titled people,*he says, * appeals to them. They arehappy to shake hands with a baronet, de-lighted to greet a lord, and enraptured onmeeting a duke,* Well, I like it. Wewere just like that ourselves till about ahundred years ago, you recollect. Someof us are like that now, I am not per-sonally, of course, I would not dream ofmaking a song about mixing with the

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26 At the Green Goosenobility. It does not affect me one way orthe other,

** If I chose to do so/' continued Pro-fessor Plodsnitch warmly, *' no doubt Icould give my conversation a very exclusiveair. Only yesterday, for instance, I wasspeaking to a lady who had tea the otherday with the sister of an EarL But, ofcourse, it is different with Americans, andseems to call for poetry. For example :

" Be still, be still, my flutt'ring heart.We are about to meet a Bart.And again

" It strikes a solemn, sacred chord.To be presented to a Lord.

And again" Heaven, hear my thanks ! This is no happy fluke !This day I was be-nodded by a Duke.

I certainly think someone ought to drawup a tariff for the benefit of visitors, Ishould certainly consider a nod from aDuke, for instance, as equal to, if not better


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At the Green Goose 27than, the loving embrace of six Barts* Infact, taking the ducal nod as our standard,we may calculate roughly that it is equalin value to a smile from an Earl, a hand-shake from a Marquis, an affectionategreeting from three Barons, and (as wehave said) a real loving hug from half ado2;en Barts. Our American visitors shouldknow this, I think,

** Nothing,*' said the Professor, in a loudand angry voice, ** is more ridiculous andnauseating than the way some people goabout boasting of having been nodded toby a Bart. Those of us who are in almostdaily contact with the higher grades of thenobility laugh most confoundedly up oursleeves at them, I can tell you. I am notthe sort of man to display an ill-bred andostentatious pride in this sort of thing,but I might say (for the benefit of myAmerican friends) that the Duke ofwas very amused the other say when I tolda funny story about one of these Bart.-


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28 At the Green Goosefanciers. At least, I think he was. I wasquite close to His Grace. Anyway, withina table or two. He lifted his right eyebrowto me quite half an inch, I noticed. Thatsort of thing must be very gratifying topeople who run after Barts. ; but, of course,I was not affected by it one way or theother.

*' And while we are on the topic ofAmerica,'' said Professor Plodsnitch slowly,** I am informed by someone who has reada great deal of the poetry of Mr. AlfredNoyes that the poet greatly favours theviolet for professional purposes, as Mr.Wordsworth did the daisy. During Mr.Noyes' recent American lecture tour afriend of mine observed that nearly everytime the poet gave a reading his wife satin the audience, wearing a bunch of violetsin her gown ; which I consider a gracefultribute to art. The violet is lovely enoughto inspire any poet, and it has the advantageof being easy to remember and to work into


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At the Green Goose 29a line. Not every poet is so well accom-modated. The case of A2;rael Murk, apoet of my acquaintance, comes back tome in this connection. In comparisonwith the ruck of modern poets A^rael Murksuffered from a bitter handicap. His tutorshad neglected to give him a grounding inbotany when he was young, and he usedto foam at the jaws at the careless ease withwhich the Georgians trilled off the fragrantcountry names of flowers which had inspiredthem.

'* The well-known * Ecstasy * of PopjoyShacklebolt, in particular, drove him intoa frenzy. You recollect it ? It begins :

*' Shepherd's Toe, Pumphrey, Old Man's Knee,Pugwhisker, Pig's Foot, Whurr-Be-'Ee,What can I heap at the feet of my RoseSweeter then Bungweed and Old Dog's Nose ?

** And so,*' said the Professor in a lyricaltone,

**the subsequent discovery (as youremember) on Azrael Murk's dead body of

a fragment of vers lihre beginning


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30 At the Green Goose** A gamopctalous corolla falls off in one piece.But a corolla which is continuous with the axis(Ah ! Tears, and the ashes of tears !)May remain in a withered or marcescent state

was all one could expect/'So saying. Professor Plodsnitch with an

agreeable bow arose, put on his hat, andwalked out before anyone could say a word.


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At the Green Goose III


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At the Green Goose IIIThe clock in the smoking-room of theGreen Goose whirred and struck eight de-liberately. On its last note Professor Plod-snitch burst quickly through the door,hung up his hat, bawled for coffee, lit hisgreat pipe Joyeuse, and immediately ad-dressed the company as follows :

** The Snowdrop Pri^e for Maiden In-nocence is awarded this week/' said theProfessor slowly, '' to a lady in the ZiegfeldFoUies* This lady (whose lovely legs areinsured for $2,000,000) has just becomeengaged to a young millionaire. Speakingto an interviewer in New York, shesaid:

*' * I did not know that Ralph was wealthyuntil after we were engaged. I neverplanned to marry for money.*

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34 -^^ the Green Goose** Did we say that the lady was a member

of the Ziegfeld Fol . Yes, we did*'' Nothing so charming, I think/* added

the Professor, puffing thoughtfully, '' hashappened since Poppy Gink of the Lino-leum chorus married Hank P, Bunk, sonof the tinned tomato king. Mr. Bunkwooed the maiden incognito. She thoughthe was a poor man. Night after night hedrove modestly up to the stage door witha simple pair of diamonds in his shirtfront and only three rings ; his car was thehumblest kind of Rolls, and the fittingswere only platinum and silver. Speakingwith great emotion to an interviewer afterthe marriage. Miss Gink said :^* * I would never have married Hank hadI known he was rich. I wanted to marrya good poor man, and have a modest littlehome where I could go on looking aftermy aged mother and doing my plain sewingand Church work. It was a great shockto me when he told me after we were en-


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At the Green Goose 35gaged that he was a wealthy man, and evennow I can scarcely believe it/

** Mr. Hank P. Bunk said :** * Yes. It is quite true. I wanted to

be loved for myself alone. I did not thinkshe would discover the truth so soon. Ido not know who told her I was rich. Itwas a big chance, but I am satisfied the riskwas worth it/

** Thank heaven there is still some Ro-mance left in the world.'^As no one contradicted him, the Professor

stirred his coffee and resumed :** The second bassoon player at one of

the theatres, it seems, has been present at370-odd performances without seeing a bitof the play, since he sits under the * apron *of the stage. So the conductor has givenhim a night off and a couple of seats to seea show to which he has only been able tolisten for eleven months or so. Everyonewill probably remember in this connectionthe case of Oswald, the third oboe at the


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36 At the Green GooseLinoleum when Heptameron Hours had itsrecord run After eleven months in thedepths Oswald saw the play for the firsttime, and next day it was observed that hewas pale and serious and moaned into hisoboe a great deal. Beyond breaking intoa short metallic laugh when questioned,however, he made no complaint, and to arepresentative of the Woodwind Gazette andWeekly Grumpheteer he said : ' I am all right.There is nothing the matter with me/

'* Even at the inquest,*' said the Professor,producing a bulky notebook from an innerpocket and consulting it, ** the matter wasnot entirely cleared up, as the evidenceshows. The doctor said that Oswald wasa healthy oboe and there were no marksof violence. The author then gave hisevidence, after which the coroner put avery significant question.

** The Coroner : * Do you think hisseeing the play had anything to do withhis death ? '


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At the Green Goose 37*' The Author : ' I do not think so, I

have witnessed it myself without the leastill effect/

** The Coroner : ' Could you tell theCourt the reason why you wrote this play ? '

'' The Author (after a pause) : ' I wouldprefer not to answer that question/ (Hissesin Court.)

'' The Coroner : * I must remind youthat you are in a very serious position.Oboes must be protected. Theirs is atthe best a dangerous profession. Where isthe conductor ? '

'' (The Conductor is called and sworn.)'* The Coroner : * Do you keep the oboes

in a separate compartment, or allow them tomix freely with the bassoons ? ''' The Conductor ; * We have great diffi-

culty, sir, in preventing the bassoons fromattackmg them.*

'* The Coroner : ' The bassoon is savagein captivity ? ''* The Conductor : ' Yes, sir. Especi-


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38 At the Green Gooseally when defending its young and duringthe run of such a play as this/

** The Coroner : ' No doubt this un-fortunate oboe, unnerved by this proximity,would be more liable to succumb to thesudden ordeal of witnessing the play ? *

** The Conductor : ' That is possible,sir/

'^ Well, as you know," concluded ProfessorPlodsnitch confidentially, '' the coroner re-turned a verdict of * Manslaughter,* andcommitted the author for triaL He onlygot off by influence/'There was a silence, after which the Pro-

fessor, finishing his coffee and relighting hispipe, coughed twice and said meditatively :** I am glad to see that a recent assaultcharge arising from a regrettable scene at aLondon ping-pong club has been amicablysettled. It appears that a gentleman,angered by the fact that another player wasout of his turn, smacked him passionatelyand threw a ping-pong ball at him ; which


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At the Green Goose 39is an example of the hotbloodedness of thisgame and the maddening enmities it en-genders* You will find no reference to itin the authorised version of the late Mr,Collinses famous Ode on the Passions, butwe owe to the research of my friend Pro-fessor Bodger the discovery of a few stanzaswhich Collins probably suppressed as beingtoo violent*

'* In these stanzas the poet describes theeffect of certain headstrong games on frailhumanity. Here is a curiously appropriateextract* Observe the quaint, formal eight-eenth-century personification

"But with a frownPing Pong impatient rose.

He threw his bloodstained bat in thunder down.And with an awful look.His rimless pince-nez off he took.

And, while rubescent fury tinged his snout.He gave the referee a fearful clout.And ever and anon he beatThe passers-by with furious heat.And though sometimes, each dreadful pause between.Dejected Patience at his sideShuffled and dealt and sniff'd and cried.

While all aghast beheld the dreary scene.He slapp'd them all and puU'd their made-up neck-ties out.


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40 At the Green Goose** Naturally the eighteenth century would

not stand this sort of evil and lawlessfury, so Mr. Collins (as Professor Bodgerthinks) cut the stanzas out and suppressedthem/'Having relapsed into a brown study for

some minutes, during which a desultoryconversation arose, Professor Plodsnitchsuddenly quelled the babble by striking thetable twice with his great pipe. After which,in a loud and commanding voice, ** From athoughtful and well-reasoned essay on theadvantages of a certain brand of soft-pedalledAmerican typewriter,'' he said, ** I learnthat the average typist uses 7,000 pounds ofenergy daily in typing. The way this isworked out is very fascinatingall aboutounce-inches and foot-pounds, and so forth,and it amounts, I think, to this, that thedaily energy expended by neat-fingeredPhyllis is enough to lift a rectilinear paral-lelepiped, at a temperature of 60 degreesFahr. through three dimensions at a rate


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At the Green Goose 41of 50 foot-pounds per second. It also (saysthe advertisement) makes her lose her looksand charm, but I suppose that is inevitablewhen one does such scientific things.

'' Does that ' foot-pound/ by the way,convey anything to you ? You should knowabout it. The Encyclopaedia Britannica(Vol. Edw to Eva) says it is ' the quantityof work done in lifting a pound a foot highfrom the sea level in the latitude of London/and I hear that every engineer has to do it.Once a month there is a test, and I am toldit is heartrending to see a very fat engineertrying vainly to lift his pound a foot highand staggering back with womanish tears.Some engineers, I believe, can easily lifta pound a foot high in Penzance, or Man-chester, or Stow-on-the-Wold, but it hasto be done in the latitude of London, whichmakes it infinitely more exacting. Henceseveral pound-lifters who come up with greatprovincial reputations have failed the finaltest, and after an examination day the place

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42 At the Green Gooseis littered with the spare parts of suicidalengineers*

*' Obviously it is no profession for weak-lings."So saying, Professor Plodsnitch seized his

hat, saluted the company, and retired ingood order.


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At the Green Goose IV


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At the Green Goose IV** The National Institute of Industrial Psy-chology/' said Professor Plodsnitch, burstingsuddenly into the smoking-room of theGreen Goose, ** is now testing the youngfor a small fee and making a scientific reporton the aptitudes discovered. In this waythe bricklaying temperament (say) is dis-tinguished from the temperament whosenatural outlet is the glue industry; andthis is all to the good, I am told that abricklaying temperament is one of themost difficult, its chief outward manifesta-tion being a dreamy introspective languorwhich may, if not checked, develop into amorbid distaste for modern industrial condi-tions* It is then the duty of the psycholo-gist to direct, with infinite love and tender-ness, the patient's temperament into its right

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46 At the Green Goosechannel ; beginning with laying one brickan hour, and gradually increasing the paceto three or (in extreme instances) four*

*' I was told the other day of a strangecase. A young man came to the Institutecomplaining that he could find no relief forhis emotions but in the writing of Expression-ist Verse. He spoke jerkily and waggledhis hands, and a high flush betrayed theraggedness of his nerves. The Chief Ex-pert at once put the youth through a coursecomprising

Testing the blood,Comparing the reflexes,Scrutinising the ego.Analysing the complexes.Tabulating the reactions.Sterilising the ganglions.Segregating the phagocytes,

after which, taking off his glasses and wipinghis brow, he said to the youth, ' Be of goodcheer. You are not really a poet. Your


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At the Green Goose 47temperament is that of a maker of piston-rods for engines used in the manufactureof rags used for polishing the popple-valvesof the machines which punch the holes inspaghetti/

'' At which the youth, praising heaven atthis discovery, went away with a lightheart and achieved his destiny.

'' And that reminds me/' said the Pro-fessor, fumbling in his pocket, '* that thecase of the old gentleman of Deal who carrieda pearl button about in his ear for seventyyears till it dropped out the other day is onemore instance of the carelessness of nurses.It was probably about the year 1851 (wheneverybody was talking about the Great Ex-hibition) that the old gentleman's nursemislaid the button. She was, I expect,so excited about the Duke of Wellington,the new crinolines. Prince Albert's whiskers,the man who carved the old lady of Belperwith a carving knife, the opening of a freelibrary at Liverpool, and other things, that


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48 At the Green Gooseit was quite a long time before she remem-bered to hold the baby upside down on theoff-chance that he might be harbouring thebutton,

'' So Nurse just gave him a perfunctoryshake, and as nothing fell out she said,* Drat the child/ and went on talking aboutthe Prince Consort's whiskers ; and whenCook tactlessly harped once more on thelost button, saying ^ Lawks, baby must *a*swallowed it,* Nurse became very angry,and said that what with this and that, andonly two footmen kept, and some peopleexpecting a person to run their brasted legsoff all day and cold meat on Sundays, andbuttons the price they werewell. Nursewent properly off the deep end and forgotabout the button. So the baby grew upand wore whiskers and lost his hair andbecame an old gentleman at Deal, and onlyfound that button the other day. He re-minds me of a friend of mine who, in theearly days of motoring, used to create a


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At the Green Goose 49terrific clatter at dinner parties by reasonof nuts, bolts, washers, and spare partsfalling out of his ears into the soup. Heused to spend most of the day lying underhis car tinkering at its vitals, and when hesneezed the air was full of ironmongery.His gentle and apologetic way of fishing fornuts and bolts in his neighbour's soup or(if necessary) down his neighbour's back,however, endeared him to everybody."

'* And yet," said a tall pale youth withglasses, "it is pr "

'' I hear," said the Professor rapidly,'' that a London bookseller recently found itnecessary to issue a warning to browsers.You know browsers. You are probablybrowsers yourselves. At any rate, thishonest bookseller, driven to madness, rushedinto his shop holding aloft a ragged-edgedvolume, and protested against the practiceof cutting the leaves of new books with thefinger and thumb, at the same time offeringbitterly to supply knives to all who de-

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50 At the Green Goosemanded them. The assembled browsersgazed on him with lack-lustre eyes, keepinga finger in the page where they left off, andthen fell once more to their reading. If Iwere a bookseller I should issue forth atintervals and harry these fellows with fireand sword and horrid yells. I was in abookshop only yesterday when a browserof my acquaintance came in, went to a shelf,took down a book with easy assurance,openedit at a certain page, and went on reading.After a quarter of an hour the fellow soirritated me that I lost the thread of a bookI was glancing atquite casually. I lookedup. A wild, evil face was regarding us frombehind a rampart of books ; it was the book-seller, lurking there with hell in his heart.

'' I stepped up to my friend and tappedhim on the shoulder. * Beware of thebookseller,' I said. ' He has a frenzy inhis eyes. He may spring.*

** My friend said, yawning, ' He has anabsurd temper. I finished a book here


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At the Green Goose 51the other day and called for the secondvolume. Perhaps I was a httle brusqueeven peremptory. At any rate, he madea fearful scene/

''' Tck, tck/ I said sympathetically.

''' Yes/ said the fellow. ' I had to go

home with the book I was reading in orderto get a little peace. That provoked afresh fit of temper in the breast of thisignoble bookseller. Even when I pattedhim, quite kindly, on the head he would notbe reasonable. Do you mind going away ?I wish to go on reading.' As I went out Iwill swear the bookseller was stealthilywhetting a little dagger behind his rampart.Ah, well, we shall soon hear.

** And that," said Professor Plodsnitch,sipping his coffee, *' reminds me that I readin the papers yesterday the romantic life-story of somebody who began in Americawith 3 a week and is now a millionaire,partly owing to his own initiative, ambition,concentration, and industry, and partly


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52 At the Green Gooseowing to his having married a lady worth6,000,000, Instances of this kind areI say it franklyan inspiration* You mayremember the inspiring sermon preachedby the Rev, Boanerges Boomer at the funeralof Mr, Midas Baggs, the great financier.Speaking with great emotion, the rev,gentleman said :

'* * Such a life as his, laborious and beau-tiful, was a monument of Service, not Self,Whether authorising a 5i per cent, divi-dend in Boojum Prefs,and I need hardlyremind you, my brethren, that the autho-rised capital exceeds 5,000,000whetherissuing 60,000 half-paid shares in Gumbo-Gumbos (which have so signally justifiedthe simple trust that he placed in Providenceby rising subsequently to 68 1-5) ; whetherdirecting the amalgamation of Ju-Jar, Ltd,,with 'Nbongo Concessions, Ltd,a featinvolving some 50,000,000 of capital ; inall these things, my brethren, the beautyof his character was made manifest. He


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At the Green Goose 53sought no notoriety ; nay, he shunned it*His life was pure and self-denying ; andthe 9 per cent. Ordinary shares in Ju-Bongos, once a meagre 8s. 6c?., now, bythe beneficent favour of a Power whichshaped his ends, stand at no less than 35s.*

** So saying the Rev. Boanerges brokedown and wept for some minutes, the con-gregation joining him in this tribute ofaffection and respect.*'

** The ethos of capitalism ** beganthe pale youth.

'* You have doubtless read," continuedthe Professor, turning a glazed eye uponhim, ** what Dean Inge said yesterday.He said, * The really strong men have takenvery little account of the verdict of theircontemporaries,' A certain weakness ofmine for Strong Men," said the Professorslowly, *' leads me to snap up eagerly anyinformation that sheds any light on theirhabits and customs. I don't mean thosepeople with bulging musclesa deplorable


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54 ^i the Green Goosespectaclewho lift weights on the music-halls, but the Strong Men with Steely Eyeswho Do Big Things* The jaw which goeswith these things is, I am told, a matter ofcareful practice. * Hark, mamma," says theStrong Man's child, * someone is feedingthe horses/ * Hush, dear,* says the mother,' that is papa developing his Iron Jaw. Heis out to win the Silver Bowl this time.'The Bowl of course, is given by the StrongMen among themselves for the Best IronJaw of the Year. So I am indebted to DeanInge for the information that the ReallyStrong Man does not care a dump for theopinion of his contemporaries. Contem-plate with me the evening scene at the clubwhere Strong Men forgather. Observethat each one is aloof and silent, communingwith himself. * Has my Conduct to-dayBeen Worthy of Me ? Have I done Some-thing Big, Something Strong ? Have Ibeen sufficiently Ruthless ? I have brokenSmithson, Johnson, and Robinson. Could


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At the Green Goose 55I have broken Jimson, Timson, and Pimson ?/ could. Weak. Weak/ He bows hishead. Let us hasten away on tiptoe. Itis not meet for us to ga^e upon a StrongMan*s agony.

'' However/' said Professor Plodsnitch,nimbly skipping round the table, ** suchdelicacy of feeling is hardly likely to appealto such a collection of numbskulls andcretins as I see around me here."He was out of the door before a suitable

reply had occurred to anyone.


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At the Green Goose V

8


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At the Green GooseThe hands of the clock were crawling to-wards the half-hour when a sudden crashannounced the arrival of Professor Plod-snitch. Bursting briskly into the roomand ignoring the sharp-nosed intellectualwho was holding forth on the Impermanenceof the Suppressed Ego, the Professor, callingloudly for coffee, coughed three times andaddressed the company as follows :

'* I perceive with some misgiving thatthe depression in agricultural circles con-tinues. It is said to be purely economicand to be curable by co-operation amongthe leaders of the agricultural industry. Idoubt it. There are deeper causes. Youhave probably," said the Professor, fumblingin his pocket and producing a sheaf ofpapers, *' forgotten the inquiry instituted

59


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6o At the Green Gooseby the Board of Agriculture some years ago.The evidence of Mr. Jeremiah Mumble, aWessex peasant, and of Mr. Isaiah Rumble,a Shropshire lad, seems worth quoting.

'' Mr. Mumble said on oath :** * My name is Jeremiah Mumble. I

am an agricultural labourer, and I havelived in Wessex for the past eighty years.During practically the whole of that periodI have been joyless. When I was twelveyears old I felt as though I were in the gripof some blind relentless Fate, and the feelinghas never since left me, even when slicingswedes. I do not know Mr. Thomas Hardypersonally, but I understand he is a comicwriter. On December lo, 1894, when Besswas hanged, I felt a sudden attack of mirthcoming on, but was able to check it in time.As regards the future, the third tree fromthe left in the lower turnip field is the oneI have selected to end my life from. I amnot hopeful about that. There is probablya worse to come.'


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At the Green Goose 6i** Mr, Rumble said :'* * My name is Isaiah Rumble. I am

eighty-nine years of age and a Shropshirelad. I have had a great many friends^ butthey are all underneath the clay. I callthem *' lads " mostly, but not in the cheer-ful sense. I have heard of Mr. A. E.Housman. He is, I believe, a contributorto revues. I attribute my pessimism mainlyto the east wind on Wenlock Edge and theclay. Some of my friends were hangedat Shrewsbury, and the others were alsolads. I do not think a gravel or sandy soilwould have made any difference. I do notthink I despair less than the previous wit-ness. We compared our desperations ashort time ago, and despaired pretty equally.*

''One naturally looks askance at co-operation as a cure for this.*'So saying, the Professor lit his great pipe

Joyeuse and fell into meditation. He thentook a sip of coffee and,sneezing in a thought-ful manner, resumed in a loud voice :


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62 At the Green Goose** I observe that at least one London

publisher has hit on a valuable idea forsaving one*s time. Just inside the wrapperof a newly published novel there is a boldannouncement

WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUT,under which a concise resume of the plotmakes it quite clear what the author wishesto convey* It would be a good thing ifother publishers took up this idea of ex-plaining the plot of the books they publish*Better still, get a really sympathetic writerto do the little note.

** Let us/^ said the Professor, stirringhis coffee abstractedly, ** take an entirelyimaginary story called, say, * The Heart ofHank Strongbow '

WHAT THIS STORY IS ABOUTHank Strongbow, the pride of the

Blue Jay Ranch, is on a visit to New York.


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At the Green Goose 63* Hank * is a good fellow, but loud. Hemay get on your nerves.

In an elevated railroad car a slim, pale,exquisite young girl is jerked into Hank'sarms. This is Cherry Merton, a typist.Around Cherry's love for Hank hangs aseries of hairbreadth adventures, hold-ups,shoot-ups, frame-ups, wind-ups, and break-ups. Finally love conquers all, and we leaveCherry under the prairie moon in the armsof her strong hero. Frankly, Cherry is alittle fool, and her pernicious habit of chew-ing gum and saying ' kid * will no doubtsicken you. She has (page 26) nice eyes,however.The subsidiary characters are rough-necks, plug-uglies, mounted police, pre-

ventive officers, cow-punchers, and the restof the usual rabble. There is a great dealof shooting and shouting.You will like Old Man Josser, the best-drawn character in this book. Unhappily

he appears in it only once (page 389, line 23),


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64 At the Green Gooseand we see only the rear portion of hispants as he flashes past head first into thelake*

Frankly, and on thinking it over again,we advise you not to buy this book,** That would about do.*'

'' I hardly think '' began the aggressivepoet in the corner, with bulging eyes.

'' And that,*' resumed the Professor,producing a folded journal, '* reminds meof a fine and striking passage in this month'sDecimal Educator which I propose to readto you. It runs :

'*' The Metric System gives little of the

emotional stimulus which forms the rewardof many a political or religious enthusiast,'

** With these rather sad words," saidProfessor Plodsnitch in a voice tinged withemotion, '' the writer of the biography ofKalo Morven, the Apostle of the MetricSystem, concludes his last instalment. Iam loath to agree with him. Looking back


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At the Green Goose 65over a long life full of stirring and (I hope)useful activities, I remember at least onestrange, romantic figure, pure of life andburned up by a selfless, feverish energy, ofwhom people said as he passed them in thestreet with hasty tread and rapt, glitteringeyes, ' Hush. That is Goofer, the deci-malist,' adding (as the Florentines did ofsad-eyed Dante), ' He has a hell of a time/

** But that, of course, was in the 'Nineties,when the Emotionalist Group of the Deci-mal Association was in the flower of itspassionate youth. Such names as KiloGramm, Dorothy (' Dot ') Milles, and Deci-ma Poyntzgreat heavens, how they comeback to one !were then on every lip. Olderdecimalists shook their heads and said thatDecima was neurotic, and that the fearlesscourage of her * Thoughts on Reducing thePenny Postage to the Mil System * wasmerely the reaction of reckless youth ona romantic temperament. We who knewDecima knew better. I shall never forget

9


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66 At the Green Goosethe slender girlish figure breaking into apassion of weepings as she concluded herlast appeal to the National Association ofChambers of Commerce, One of my mostsacred treasures is a letter from Decimasoon after that crisis. She wrote :

** * I feel the end is near. . Some-thing in my heart seemed to snap when Irealised that the Postal Congress now en-ables the ounce-user to send 28 grains forthe same postage for which the gram-usercould only send tv/enty. . . Oh, my friend,the glory and the fire and the exaltation ofthese last few months, the sweet pain of sur-render to the Metric Ideal ! Such a sacrificedemands (Shylock-like) its 453*591 grammes(approx.) of flesh. I am ready to shed litresof my blood for the Cause as well. .Good-bye, my friend, my dear friend.*

** She passed away shortly afterwards.Her memory is venerated by the DecimalAssociation. Let no man say that there isno emotional stimulus in such a life as hers."


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At the Green Goose 67With these words the Professor, dissem-

bling his tears by a strong effort, dumblywaved the company good night and wentout, falling twice over the steps with a terrificcrash.


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At the Green Goose VI

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At the Green Goose VI** Another British business man/' observedthe stout literary man in the corner, ad-dressing the room at large, ** has just beenswindled. This time by a gold brick inRussia/'

** It is probable/' replied Professor Plod-snitch, entering the smoking-room of theGreen Goose and briskly appropriating themost comfortable seat, '' that a great dealof indignation will be aroused among peoplewho think that our business men should beprotected. On the other hand," added theProfessor, fumbling in his never-failingpockets and producing the usual sheaf ofpapers, ''it is most likely their own fault,for Auntie Dot, in her weekly * Chat onChange ' in the Financiers' Friend andWeekly Profiteerf is always ready to advise

71


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72 At the Green Gooseperplexed business men. Last week, forexample, she gave advice which was ex-tremely valuable :

'' * Henry J. (Threadneedle-street) : No,Henry, it was extremely silly of you to cashthe 500 cheque at sight for a perfectstranger, especially as you think it isa dud. One cannot be too careful inbusiness. You are too impulsive, dear,and your kindness is, I fear, wasted onsuch a man.

** ' Midas (Mincing-lane) : Silly boy !Even if the American gentleman did assureyou that the brick was pure gold, why didyou not consult Auntie Dot before partingwith your 5,000 ? Write to me nexttime.

" ^Willie H. (Capel-court) : Willie, dear,hysterics will never do any good. Wipeyour eyes and be brave ! Remember thatbusiness men are often deceived like that.The pretty gilt Oil Shares certificates youwere landed with may be worthless in a


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At the Green Goose 73money sense, but they make a sweetwall-paper* Many of my business friendshave their entire house papered withthem/

'' Most of Auntie Dot's replies to cor-respondents concern various kinds of con-fidence trick and the Spanish PrisonerSwindle. Business men are (it seems)particularly susceptible to dishonest low-browed men who take advantage of theirinnocence and stick them. As AuntieDot herself remarked in a recent weeklyletter :

City 0009. Throgmorton Street, E.G.,Wednesday.

** * Pets : I had such a pathetic letter fromGeorgie Goldrox, of the Rubber Market,yesterday I Georgie was walking down Fen-church Street when a gentleman sold hima rubber plantation in Iceland for 800 !The gentleman spoke so nicely and appearedso kind that Georgie naturally gave him

10


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74 At the Green Goosethe money at once, but a day or two laterhe discovered that there are no rubberplantations in Iceland! So you see, dar-lings, you must be very, very carefuLWhen any stranger offers to sell youanything, never give him the money atonce, unless you are perfectly sure he is agood man. Of course, some business menhave a kind nurse to look after them, butthose who haven^t should be all the morecareful

'* ' On Page Ten you will find the adven-tures of Pop, Squawk, and Wolfie in theIron and Steel Market. What fun \

** * Your loving,'* * Auntie Dot/

** As I say,** concluded the Professor,*' if all our business men in London tooktheir little troubles to Auntie Dot weshould hear less about their being swindledday after day by plausible, but naughty,men.


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At the Green Goose 75'* But let us/* said Professor Plodsnitch

cheerfully, '' turn to less painful things. Iperceive that one of the more intellectualtheatres has been having one or two roundswith the Censor over one of those tenselittle sea dramas by the American play-wright Eugene O'NeilL The Censor hasbestirred himself for some reason, and thelanguage of Mr. CNeill's rough marinershas been toned down a trifle to drawing-room standards. I confess that the work-ings of the official mind are a little inscrut-able. There is one word, for example,which sailors (and others) use frequently.It made a nine days* sensation in Mr.Shawns Pygmalion, The Censor will havenone of it. In order not to offend politeears they have had to alter this robustfull-blooded word to 'ruddy.* Again, thephrase ' G blast you * is prohibited,but ' For *s sake ' is apparently fitand respectable, and passes. I haven'tthe play at my elbow, but I have no


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76 At the Green Goosedoubt that it is greatly improved by thisofficial correction ; and, anyway, it is Mr,O'Neill's own fault for choosing to por-tray rough, rude men who use suchlanguage.

'* Anyhow," added the Professor, un-tying a sheaf of dog's-eared papers, '* Iam now hard at work altering Act III ofa play in which a ship has to be scuttledon the high seas. In the original, I amafraid, it was rather rude in places, be-cause the crew had been drifting aboutin a state of mutiny, and their nerveshad affected their language. I have changedall that, however. Let me quote you aline or two from where the captain makesthe discovery. The crew are assembledon deck :

'*' Capt. Ironbeard : . . . And really,

gentlemen, this is too bad. May I beg thegentleman who has done this to step for-ward, and explain his action ? . Nobody .'*Tut, tut. I beg of you !


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At the Green Goose tj(A pause.)

'^ * Deadlight : If I may make a sugges-tion, sir, I believe that Mr. Rumbelowhere might throw some light on thematter.

'* * Capt. Ironbeard (pained) : Oh,dear !

** * Rumbelow (desperately) : I assure you,Captain Ironbeard, that I am fully cognisantof the embarrassing position in which thisunfortunate incident has placed you. Never-theless, it was I who, in a moment of irrita-tion, removed the plug and allowed the seato enter.

** * Capt. Ironbeard (aghast) : Good graci-ous, Mr. Rumbelow I

'' * First Seaman : Dear, dear !*' * Second Seaman : Tck, tck !" ' Third Seaman (angrily) : Such con-

duct deserves the gravest censure.'^ * A Very Rough Seaman (growling)Let us smack Mr. Rumbelow.


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78 At the Green Goose** * A Very Profane Seaman (hissing) : Con-

found you, Mr, Rumbelow,'' * Capt, Ironbeard (grieved) : Mr, Bar-

nacle ! Whatever Mr, Rumbelow mayhave done, that is no excuse for lan-guage unbecoming a man of taste. Pray,gentlemen, withdraw while I endeavour toextract an apology from Mr, Rumbelow,who, I have no doubt, regrets this un-fortunate occurrence as sincerely as any-one,

** * [Exeunt crew, with murmurs of** Thank you, sir,"' ** Naughty Mr, Rumbe-low,'' *' Good gracious,'' *' Deary me,"etc]

'* I fancy that will get past theCensor all right. The title will have tobe altered from * The Ship of Blood *to ' The Ship of Rud,' But that is adetail,"

** I once knew a seafaring man," beganthe sharp - nosed poet in the corner,'' who "


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At the Green Goose 79'* While we are on the marine topic/'

proceeded the Professor in a determinedvoice, " I may observe that it seems thatelection agents are busy in the seafaringports. Any merchant seaman, pilot, orfisherman who anticipates being away atsea on November 15 may have his generalelection proxy vote recorded by his wifeor some friend. Here, I fancy, is the germof a stirring tale such as Alfred Lord Tenny-son dealt with in ' Enoch Arden.' Whatabout the long-lost seafarer who turns upand finds his wife has voted against hisinstructions ? You of course rememberthe flowing narrative of ' Enoch Arden,"and how the missing mariner reappears andfinds that his wife has merely marriedanother man. If the word ' savour ' creepsinto the more tragic narrative which I pro-pose reciting to you at this moment,*' saidthe Professor, closing his eyes and sighingdeeply, '' it is probably because Mr. ArnoldBennett's front name is Enoch. However,


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8o At the Green Goosehere is Moses Baddun, our wanderer, backin the old home town after many years :

** But Martha Gloop was good and garrulousNor let him be, but often breaking inTold him, with other annals of the port.How George's asthma kept on getting worseAnd Henry Bulp kept chickens, and the noseOf Auntie Hamps grew daily ruddiersaidTo be dyspepsia. Moses savoured it.Oh, savoured it intensely : only when she said' Your wife is now the wife of Frederick Slink,And has three children and a rabbit run,'He shook his old bald head pathetically.Repeated muttering, ' and a rabbit run,'And said, ' Come, tell me, let me know the worst.Has she betrayed the faith I placed in her ? 'But Martha, fearful : ' Why, she voted Lab.'And Moses, hoarsely : ' Blast her, I said Lib.The day before I sailed for 'MerrikyI said, ' Vote Lib., you devil. Lib. or nowt.Remember Cobden's words in '66,And what the Old Man said at Birmingham.And so, with many a fierce and darkling oath.Swiftly he turn'd and leapt adown the streetDown to the neat-cropt garden where his wifeSat coyly with a Labour canvasser.And shrieking, ' Lib., not Lab. ! ' he swung his club.And bang'd them both, and gnaw'd their ears and necks,Crying out fiercely, ' Judas I Traitress ! Dogs !And leapt away and caught the next up trainAnd took the next boat back to Africa.And when they found the pair the little portHad seldom seen a messier spectacle.


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At the Green Goose 8i'* I fear some of Mr, Masefield's breezy

words have crept into it as well. But nomatter/'

There was silence for some minutes, afterwhich a stout man near the window ob-served that the evenings seemed to bedrawing in.

** I beg your pardon ? " said ProfessorPlodsnitch abruptly, waking from a brownstudy.

** The evenings/' said the stout man,''seem to "** At last, I observe," said the Professor,

addressing the company at large, ** a wayhas been discovered of coping more satis-factorily with the Chorus in revivals of Greekdrama. The Chorus has always been a bitternut for a modern producer to crack ; itsfunction, as everyone knows, being to hanground aimlessly and make irrelevant remarkswhile somebody is being murdered withfearful screams, and also to engage theMessenger in conversation when he arrives

II


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82 At the Green Goosepanting and exhausted. In a performanceof the Electra of Euripides the otherafternoon, however, the Dalcro^e Societytook the Chorus in hand and made themmove eurhythmically, the choral passagesbeing sung by hidden singers to the musicof flute, harp, and drum.

** It is a moving sight," pursued the Pro-fessor mystically, '* to contemplate (as youcan in London, Paris, and Vienna, some-times) stout ladies solemnly performing theDalcro^e evolutions and skipping like younghe-goats upon the mountains ; but un-doubtedly it is better that the Greek Chorusshould move in rhythm than that it shouldhang about like a group of Gumbles roundthe village pump on Sunday. But I fearthe Chorus will always appear strange toeyes unused to the Greek convention unlesswe give them something to occupy themduring their leisure periods. They mightgather in clusters at the back and chatdumbly, as they do in our musical comedy


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At the Green Goose 83or they might do a little squad-drill duringthe longer speeches. Then when the mur-der begins and the Leader gives the signalthey might assemble again :

'' The Leader (clearing his throat) : Alas !I hear a frantic woman's screams.

** First Old Man (quickly) : Dreams arewe all, and all our actions dreams*'' Second Old Man (peevishly, to Third) :

How did he think of that ?'' Third Old Man (enviously) : Just luck.'' The Leader : Say, shall we rush to

save, and nothing reck ?(A pause.)

'' Fourth Old Man (gloomily) : What use

at the green goose wyndham db lewis

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