The Ways of Men(人们的手段)

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THE WAYS OF MEN

Eliot Gregory

THE WAYS OF MEN

CHAPTER 1 - "UNCLE SAM"

THE gentleman who graced the gubernatorial arm-chair of our state

when this century was born happened to be an admirer of classic lore and

the sonorous names of antiquity.

It is owing to his weakness in bestowing pompous cognomens on our

embryo towns and villages that to-day names like Utica, Syracuse, and

Ithaca, instead of evoking visions of historic pomp and circumstance, raise

in the minds of most Americans the picture of cocky little cities, rich only

in trolley-cars and Methodist meeting-houses.

When, however, this cultured governor, in his ardor, christened one of

the cities Troy, and the hill in its vicinity Mount Ida, he little dreamed that

a youth was living on its slopes whose name was destined to become a

household word the world over, as the synonym for the proudest and

wealthiest republic yet known to history, a sobriquet that would be

familiar in the mouths of races to whose continents even the titles of

Jupiter or Mars had never penetrated.

A little before this century began, two boys with packs bound on their

stalwart shoulders walked from New York and established a brickyard in

the neighborhood of what is now Perry Street, Troy. Ebenezer and Samuel

Wilson soon became esteemed citizens of the infant city, their kindliness

and benevolence winning for them the affection and respect of the

community.

The younger brother, Samuel, was an especial favorite with the

children of the place, whose explorations into his deep pockets were

generally rewarded by the discovery of some simple "sweet" or home-

made toy. The slender youth with the "nutcracker" face proving to be the

merriest of playfellows, in their love his little band of admirers gave him

the pet name of "Uncle Sam," by which he quickly became known, to the

exclusion of his real name. This is the kindly and humble origin of a title

the mere speaking of which to-day quickens the pulse and moistens the

eyes of millions of Americans with the same thrill that the dear old flag

arouses when we catch sight of it, especially an unexpected glimpse in

some foreign land.

THE WAYS OF MEN

With increasing wealth the brick-yard of the Wilson brothers was

replaced by an extensive slaughtering business, in which more than a

hundred men were soon employed - a vast establishment for that day,

killing weekly some thousand head of cattle. During the military

operations of 1812 the brothers signed a contract to furnish the troops at

Greenbush with meat, "packed in full bound barrels of white oak"; soon

after, Samuel was appointed Inspector of Provisions for the army.

It is a curious coincidence that England also should have taken an ex-

army-contractor as her patron saint, for if we are to believe tradition, St.

George of Cappadocia filled that position unsatisfactorily before he passed

through martyrdom to sainthood.

True prototype of the nation that was later to adopt him as its

godfather, the shrewd and honest patriot, "Uncle Sam," not only lived

loyally up to his contracts, giving full measure and of his best, but proved

himself incorruptible, making it his business to see that others too fulfilled

their engagements both in the letter and the spirit; so that the "U.S."

(abbreviation of United States) which he pencilled on all provisions that

had passed his inspection became in the eyes of officers and soldiers a

guarantee of excellence. Samuel's old friends, the boys of Troy (now

enlisted in the army), naively imagining that the mystic initials were an

allusion to the pet name they had given him years before, would accept no

meats but "Uncle Sam's," murmuring if other viands were offered them.

Their comrades without inquiry followed this example; until so strong did

the prejudice for food marked "U.S." become, that other contractors, in

order that their provisions should find favor with the soldiers, took to

announcing "Uncle Sam" brands.

To the greater part of the troops, ignorant (as are most Americans to-

day) of the real origin of this pseudonym, "Uncle Sam's" beef and bread

meant merely government provisions, and the step from national

belongings to an impersonation of our country by an ideal "Uncle Sam"

was but a logical sequence.

In his vigorous old age, Samuel Wilson again lived on Mount Ida, near

the estates of the Warren family, where as children we were taken to visit

his house and hear anecdotes of the aged patriot's hospitality and humor.

THE WAYS OF MEN

The honor in which he was held by the country-side, the influence for

good he exerted, and the informal tribunal he held, to which his neighbors

came to get their differences straightened out by his common sense, are

still talked of by the older inhabitants. One story in particular used to

charm our boyish ears. It was about a dispute over land between the

Livingstons and the Van Rensselaers, which was brought to an end by

"Uncle Sam's" producing a barrel of old papers (confided to him by both

families during the war, for safe keeping) and extracting from this original

"strong box" title deeds to the property in litigation.

Now, in these troubled times of ours, when rumors of war are again in

the air, one's thoughts revert with pleasure to the half-mythical figure on

the threshold of the century, and to legends of the clear-eyed giant, with

the quizzical smile and the tender, loyal heart, whose life's work makes

him a more lovable model and a nobler example to hold up before the

youth of to-day than all the mythological deities that ever disported

themselves on the original Mount Ida.

There is a singular fitness in this choice of "Uncle Sam" as our patron

saint, for to be honest and loyal and modest, to love little children, to do

one's duty quietly in the heyday of life, and become a mediator in old age,

is to fulfil about the whole duty of man; and every patriotic heart must

wish the analogy may be long maintained, that our loved country, like its

prototype, may continue the protector of the feeble and a peace-maker

among nations.

THE WAYS OF MEN

CHAPTER 2 - Domestic Despots

THOSE who walk through the well-to-do quarters of our city, and

glance, perhaps a little enviously as they pass, toward the cheerful

firesides, do not reflect that in almost every one of these apparently happy

homes a pitiless tyrant reigns, a misshapen monster without bowels of

compassion or thought beyond its own greedy appetites, who sits like

Sinbad's awful burden on the necks of tender women and distracted men.

Sometimes this incubus takes the form of a pug, sometimes of a poodle, or

simply a bastard cur admitted to the family bosom in a moment of

unreflecting pity; size and pedigree are of no importance; the result is

always the same. Once Caliban is installed in his stronghold, peace and

independence desert that roof.

We read daily of fathers tyrannizing over trembling families, of

stepmothers and unnatural children turning what might be happy homes

into amateur Infernos, and sigh, as we think of martyrdoms endured by

overworked animals.

It is cheering to know that societies have been formed for the

protection of dumb brutes and helpless children. Will no attempt be made

to alleviate this other form of suffering, which has apparently escaped the

eye of the reformer?

The animal kingdom is divided - like all Gaul - into three divisions:

wild beasts, that are obliged to hustle for themselves; laboring and

producing animals, for which man provides because they are useful to him

- and dogs! Of all created things on our globe the canine race have the

softest "snap." The more one thinks about this curious exception in their

favor the more unaccountable it appears. We neglect such wild things as

we do not slaughter, and exact toil from domesticated animals in return for

their keep. Dogs alone, shirking all cares and labor, live in idle comfort at

man's expense.

When that painful family jar broke up the little garden party in Eden

and forced our first parents to work or hunt for a living, the original Dog

(equally disgusted with either alternative) hit on the luminous idea of

posing as the champion of the disgraced couple, and attached himself to

THE WAYS OF MEN

Adam and Eve; not that he approved of their conduct, but simply because

he foresaw that if he made himself companionable and cosy he would be

asked to stay to dinner.

From that day to the present, with the exception of occasionally

watching sheep and houses - a lazy occupation at the best - and a little

light carting in Belgium (dogs were given up as turn-spits centuries ago,

because they performed that duty badly), no canine has raised a paw to do

an honest day's work, neither has any member of the genus been known

voluntarily to perform a useful act.

How then - one asks one's self in a wonder - did the myth originate

that Dog was the friend of Man? Like a multitude of other fallacies taught

to innocent children, this folly must be unlearned later. Friend of man,

indeed! Why, the "Little Brothers of the Rich" are guileless philanthropists

in comparison with most canines, and unworthy to be named in the same

breath with them. Dogs discovered centuries ago that to live in luxury, it

was only necessary to assume an exaggerated affection for some wealthy

mortal, and have since proved themselves past masters in a difficult art in

which few men succeed. The number of human beings who manage to live

on their friends is small, whereas the veriest mongrel cur contrives to

enjoy food and lodging at some dupe's expense.

Facts such as these, however, have not over-thrown the great dog myth.

One can hardly open a child's book without coming across some tale of

canine intelligence and devotion. My tender youth was saddened by the

story of one disinterested dog that refused to leave his master's grave and

was found frozen at his post on a bleak winter's morning. With the

experience of years in pet dogs I now suspect that, instead of acting in this

theatrical fashion, that pup trotted home from the funeral with the most

prosperous and simple-minded couple in the neighborhood, and after a

substantial meal went to sleep by the fire. He must have been a clever dog

to get so much free advertisement, so probably strolled out to his master's

grave the next noon, when people were about to hear him, and howled a

little to keep up appearances.

I have written "the richest and most simple minded couple," because

centuries of self-seeking have developed in these beasts an especial

THE WAYS OF MEN

aptitude for spotting possible victims at a glance. You will rarely find dogs

coquetting with the strong- minded or wasting blandishments where there

is not the probability of immediate profit; but once let even a puppy get a

tenderhearted girl or aged couple under his influence, no pity will be

shown the victims.

There is a house not a square away from Mr. Gerry's philanthropic

headquarters, where a state of things exists calculated to extract tears from

a custom-house official. Two elderly virgins are there held in bondage by a

Minotaur no bigger than your two fists. These good dames have a taste for

travelling, but change of climate disagrees with their tyrant. They dislike

house-keeping and, like good Americans, would prefer hotel life,

nevertheless they keep up an establishment in a cheerless side street, with

a retinue of servants, because, forsooth, their satrap exacts a back yard

where he can walk of a morning. These spinsters, although loving sisters,

no longer go about together, Caligula's nerves being so shaken that

solitude upsets them. He would sooner expire than be left alone with the

servant, for the excellent reason that his bad temper and absurd airs have

made him dangerous enemies below stairs - and he knows it!

Another household in this city revolves around two brainless, goggle-

eyed beasts, imported at much expense from the slopes of Fuji-yama. The

care that is lavished on those heathen monsters passes belief. Maids are

employed to carry them up and down stairs, and men are called in the

night to hurry for a doctor when Chi has over-eaten or Fu develops colic;

yet their devoted mistress tells me, with tears in her eyes, that in spite of

this care, when she takes her darlings for a walk they do not know her

from the first stranger that passes, and will follow any boy who whistles to

them in the street.

What revolts me in the character of dogs is that, not content with

escaping from the responsibilities entailed on all the other inhabitants of

our globe by the struggle for existence, these four-legged Pecksniffs have

succeeded in making for themselves a fallacious reputation for honesty

and devotion. What little lingering belief I had in canine fidelity

succumbed then I was told that St. Bernards - those models of integrity

and courage - have fallen into the habit of carrying the flasks of brandy

THE WAYS OF MEN

that the kind monks provide for the succor of snowbound travellers, to the

neighboring hamlets and exchanging the contents for - chops!

Will the world ever wake to the true character of these four- legged

impostors and realize that instead of being disinterested and sincere, most

family pets are consummate hypocrites. Innocent? Pshaw! Their pretty,

coaxing ways and pretences of affection are unadulterated guile; their

ostentatious devotion, simply a clever manoeuvre to excite interest and

obtain unmerited praise. It is useless, however, to hope that things will

change. So long as this giddy old world goes on waltzing in space, so long

shall we continue to be duped by shams and pin our faith on frauds,

confounding an attractive bearing with a sweet disposition and mistaking

dishevelled hair and eccentric appearance for brains. Even in the Orient,

where dogs have been granted immunity from other labor on the condition

that they organized an effective street-cleaning department, they have been

false to their trust and have evaded their contracts quite as if they were

Tammany braves, like whom they pass their days in slumber and their

nights in settling private disputes, while the city remains uncleaned.

I nurse yet another grudge against the canine race! That Voltaire of a

whelp, who imposed himself upon our confiding first parents, must have

had an important pull at headquarters, for he certainly succeeded in getting

the decree concerning beauty and fitness which applies to all mammals,

including man himself, reversed in favor of dogs, and handed down to his

descendants the secret of making defects and deformities pass current as

qualities. While other animals are valued for sleek coats and slender

proportions, canine monstrosities have always been in demand. We do not

admire squints or protruding under jaws in our own race, yet bulldogs

have persuaded many weak-minded people that these defects are charming

when combined in an individual of their breed.

The fox in the fable, who after losing his tail tried to make that

bereavement the fashion, failed in his undertaking; Dutch canal-boat dogs

have, however, been successful where the fox failed, and are to-day

pampered and prized for a curtailment that would condemn any other

animal (except perhaps a Manx cat) to a watery grave at birth.

I can only recall two instances where canine sycophants got their

THE WAYS OF MEN

deserts; the first tale (probably apocryphal) is about a donkey, for years the

silent victim of a little terrier who had been trained to lead him to water

and back. The dog - as might have been expected - abused the situation,

while pretending to be very kind to his charge, never allowed him to roll

on the grass, as he would have liked, or drink in peace, and harassed the

poor beast in many other ways, getting, however, much credit from the

neighbors for devotion and intelligence. Finally, one day after months of

waiting, the patient victim's chance came. Getting his tormentor well out

into deep water, the donkey quietly sat down on him.

The other tale is true, for I knew the lady who provided in her will that

her entire establishment should be kept up for the comfort and during the

life of the three fat spaniels that had solaced her declining years. The heirs

tried to break the will and failed; the delighted domestics, seeing before

them a period of repose, proceeded (headed by the portly housekeeper) to

consult a "vet" as to how the life of the precious legatees might be

prolonged to the utmost. His advice was to stop all sweets and rich food

and give each of the animals at least three hours of hard exercise a day.

From that moment the lazy brutes led a dog's life. Water and the detested

"Spratt" biscuit, scorned in happier days, formed their meagre ordinary;

instead of somnolent airings in a softly cushioned landau they were torn

from chimney corner musings to be raced through cold, muddy streets by

a groom on horseback.

Those two tales give me the keenest pleasure. When I am received on

entering a friend's room with a chorus of yelps and attacked in dark

corners by snarling little hypocrites who fawn on me in their master's

presence, I humbly pray that some such Nemesis may be in store for these

FAUX BONHOMMES before they leave this world, as apparently no

provision has been made for their punishment in the next.

THE WAYS OF MEN

CHAPTER 3 - Cyrano, Rostand,

Coquelin

AMONG the proverbs of Spanish folk-lore there is a saying that good

wine retains its flavor in spite of rude bottles and cracked cups. The

success of M. Rostand's brilliant drama, CYRANO DE BERGERAC, in

its English dress proves once more the truth of this adage. The fun and

pathos, the wit and satire, of the original pierce through the halting, feeble

translation like light through a ragged curtain, dazzling the spectators and

setting their enthusiasm ablaze.

Those who love the theatre at its best, when it appeals to our finer

instincts and moves us to healthy laughter and tears, owe a debt of

gratitude to Richard Mansfield for his courage in giving us, as far as the

difference of language and rhythm would allow, this CHEF D'OEUVRE

unchanged, free from the mutilations of the adapter, with the author's

wishes and the stage decorations followed into the smallest detail. In this

way we profit by the vast labor and study which Rostand and Coquelin

gave to the original production.

Rumors of the success attained by this play in Paris soon floated

across to us. The two or three French booksellers here could not import the

piece fast enough to meet the ever increasing demand of our reading

public. By the time spring came, there were few cultivated people who had

not read the new work and discussed its original language and daring

treatment.

On arriving in Paris, my first evening was passed at the Porte St.

Martin. After the piece was over, I dropped into Coquelin's dressing-room

to shake this old acquaintance by the hand and give him news of his many

friends in America.

Coquelin in his dressing-room is one of the most delightful of mortals.

The effort of playing sets his blood in motion and his wit sparkling. He

seemed as fresh and gay that evening as though there were not five killing

acts behind him and the fatigue of a two-hundred-night run, uninterrupted

even by Sundays, added to his "record."

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