Chapter X: Story-Tellers' Night

A House-Boat on the Styx

by John Kendrick Bangs

It was Story-tellers' Night at the houseboat, and the best
talkers of Hades were impressed into the service. Doctor Johnson was
made chairman of the evening.

"Put him in the chair," said Raleigh. "That's the only way to
keep him from telling a story himself. If he starts in on a tale
he'll make it a serial sure as fate, but if you make him the medium
through which other story-tellers are introduced to the club he'll be
finely epigrammatic. He can be very short and sharp when he's
talking about somebody else. Personality is his forte."

"Great scheme," said Diogenes, who was chairman of the
entertainment committee. "The nights over here are long, but if
Johnson started on a story they'd have to reach twice around eternity
and halfway back to give him time to finish all he had to say."

"He's not very witty, in my judgment," said Carlyle, who since
his arrival in the other world has manifested some jealousy of
Solomon and Doctor Johnson.

"That's true enough," said Raleigh; "but he's strong, and he's
bound to say something that will put the audience in sympathy with
the man that he introduces, and that's half the success of a
Story-tellers' Night. I've told stories myself. If your audience
doesn't sympathize with you you'd be better off at home putting the
baby to bed."

And so it happened. Doctor Johnson was made chairman, and the
evening came. The Doctor was in great form. A list of the story-
tellers had been sent him in advance, and he was prepared. The
audience was about as select a one as can be found in Hades. The
doors were thrown open to the friends of the members, and the smoke-
furnace had been filled with a very superior quality of Arcadian
mixture which Scott had brought back from a haunting-trip to the home
of "The Little Minister," at Thrums.

"Friends and fellow-spooks," the Doctor began, when all were
seated on the visionary camp-stools--which, by the way, are far
superior to those in use in a world of realities, because they do not
creak in the midst of a fine point demanding absolute silence for
appreciation--"I do not know why I have been chosen to preside over
this gathering of phantoms; it is the province of the presiding
officer on occasions of this sort to say pleasant things, which he
does not necessarily endorse, about the sundry persons who are to do
the story-telling. Now, I suppose you all know me pretty well by
this time. If there is anybody who doesn't, I'll be glad to have him
presented after the formal work of the evening is over, and if I
don't like him I'll tell him so. You know that if I can be counted
upon for any one thing it is candor, and if I hurt the feelings of
any of these individuals whom I introduce to-night, I want them
distinctly to understand that it is not because I love them less, but
that I love truth more. With this--ah--blanket apology, as it were,
to cover all possible emergencies that may arise during the evening,
I will begin. The first speaker on the programme, I regret to
observe, is my friend Goldsmith. Affairs of this kind ought to begin
with a snap, and while Oliver is a most excellent writer, as a
speaker he is a pebbleless Demosthenes. If I had had the arrangement
of the programme I should have had Goldsmith tell his story while the
rest of us were down-stairs at supper. However, we must abide by our
programme, which is unconscionably long, for otherwise we will never
get through it. Those of you who agree with me as to the pleasure of
listening to my friend Goldsmith will do well to join me in the
grill-room while he is speaking, where, I understand, there is a very
fine line of punches ready to be served. Modest Noll, will you
kindly inflict yourself upon the gathering, and send me word when you
get through, if you ever do, so that I may return and present number
two to the assembly, whoever or whatever he may be?"

With these words the Doctor retired, and poor Goldsmith, pale
with fear, rose up to speak. It was evident that he was quite as
doubtful of his ability as a talker as was Johnson.

"I'm not much of a talker, or, as some say, speaker," he said.
"Talking is not my forte, as Doctor Johnson has told you, and I am
therefore not much at it. Speaking is not in my line. I cannot
speak or talk, as it were, because I am not particularly ready at the
making of a speech, due partly to the fact that I am not much of a
talker anyhow, and seldom if ever speak. I will therefore not bore
you by attempting to speak, since a speech by one who like myself is,
as you are possibly aware, not a fluent nor indeed in any sense an
eloquent speaker, is apt to be a bore to those who will be kind
enough to listen to my remarks, but will read instead the first five
chapters of the Vicar of Wakefield."

"Who suggested any such night as this, anyhow?" growled Carlyle.
"Five chapters of the Vicar of Wakefield for a starter! Lord save
us, we'll need a Vicar of Sleepfield if he's allowed to do this!"

"I move we adjourn," said Darwin.

"Can't something be done to keep these younger members quiet?"
asked Solomon, frowning upon Carlyle and Darwin.

"Yes," said Douglas Jerrold. "Let Goldsmith go on. He'll have
them asleep in ten minutes."

Meanwhile, Goldsmith was plodding earnestly through his stint,
utterly and happily oblivious of the effect he was having upon his
audience.

"This is awful," whispered Wellington to Bonaparte.

"Worse than Waterloo," replied the ex-Emperor, with a grin; "but
we can stop it in a minute. Artemas Ward told me once how a camp-
meeting he attended in the West broke up to go outside and see a dog-
fight. Can't you and I pretend to quarrel? A personal assault by
you on me will wake these people up and discombobulate Goldsmith. Say
the word--only don't hit too hard."

"I'm with you," said Wellington. Whereupon, with a great show
of heat, he roared out, "You? Never! I'm more afraid of a boy with
a bean-snapper that I ever was of you!" and followed up his remark by
pulling Bonaparte's camp-chair from under him, and letting the
conqueror of Austerlitz fall to the floor with a thud which I have
since heard described as dull and sickening.

The effect was instantaneous. Compared to a personal encounter
between the two great figures of Waterloo, a reading from his own
works by Goldsmith seemed lacking in the elements essential to the
holding of an audience. Consequently, attention was centred in the
belligerent warriors, and, by some odd mistake, when a peace-loving
member of the assemblage, realizing the indecorousness of the
incident, cried out, "Put him out! put him out!" the attendants
rushed in, and, taking poor Goldsmith by his collar, hustled him out
through the door, across the deck, and tossed him ashore without
reference to the gang-plank. This accomplished, a personal
explanation of their course was made by the quarrelling generals,
and, peace having been restored, a committee was sent in search of
Goldsmith with suitable apologies. The good and kindly soul
returned, but having lost his book in the melee, much to his own
gratification, as well as to that of the audience, he was permitted
to rest in quiet the balance of the evening.

"Is he through?" said Johnson, poking his head in at the door
when order was restored.

"Yes, sir," said Boswell; "that is to say, he has retired
permanently from the field. He didn't finish, though."

"Fellow-spooks," began Johnson once more, "now that you have
been delighted with the honeyed eloquence of the last speaker, it is
my privilege to present to you that eminent fabulist Baron
Munchausen, the greatest unrealist of all time, who will give you an
exhibition of his paradoxical power of lying while standing."

The applause which greeted the Baron was deafening. He was,
beyond all doubt, one of the most popular members of the club.

"Speaking of whales," said he, leaning gracefully against the
table.

"Nobody has mentioned 'em," said Johnson.

"True," retorted the Baron; "but you always suggest them by your
apparently unquenchable thirst for spouting--speaking of whales, my
friend Jonah, as well as the rest of you, may be interested to know
that I once had an experience similar to his own, and, strange to
say, with the identical whale."

Jonah arose from his seat in the back of the room. "I do not
wish to be unpleasant," he said, with a strong effort to be calm,
"but I wish to ask if Judge Blackstone is in the room."

"I am," said the Judge, rising. "What can I do for you?"

"I desire to apply for an injunction restraining the Baron from
using my whale in his story. That whale, your honor, is
copyrighted," said Jonah. "If I had any other claim to the affection
of mankind than the one which is based on my experience with that
leviathan, I would willingly permit the Baron to introduce him into
his story; but that whale, your honor, is my stock in trade--he is my
all."

"I think Jonah's point is well taken," said Blackstone, turning
to the Baron. "It would be a distinct hardship, I think, if the
plaintiff in this action were to be deprived of the exclusive use of
his sole accessory. The injunction prayed for is therefore granted.
The court would suggest, however, that the Baron continue with his
story, using another whale for the purpose."

"It is impossible," said Munchausen, gloomily. "The whole point
of the story depends upon its having been Jonah's whale. Under the
circumstances, the only thing I can do is to sit down. I regret the
narrowness of mind exhibited by my friend Jonah, but I must respect
the decision of the court."

"I must take exception to the Baron's allusion to my narrowness
of mind," said Jonah, with some show of heat. "I am simply defending
my rights, and I intend to continue to do so if the whole world
unites in considering my mind a mere slot scarcely wide enough for
the insertion of a nickel. That whale was my discovery, and the
personal discomfort I endured in perfecting my experience was such
that I resolved to rest my reputation upon his broad proportions
only--to sink or swim with him--and I cannot at this late day permit
another to crowd me out of his exclusive use."

Jonah sat down and fanned himself, and the Baron, with a look of
disgust on his face, left the room.

"Up to his old tricks," he growled as he went. "He queers
everything he goes into. If I'd known he was a member of this club
I'd never have joined."

"We do not appear to be progressing very rapidly," said Doctor
Johnson, rising. "So far we have made two efforts to have stories
told, and have met with disaster each time. I don't know but what
you are to be congratulated, however, on your escape. Very few of
you, I observe, have as yet fallen asleep. The next number on the
programme, I see, is Boswell, who was to have entertained you with a
few reminiscences; I say was to have done so, because he is not to do
so."

"I'm ready," said Boswell, rising.

"No doubt," retorted Johnson, severely, "but I am not. You are
a man with one subject--myself. I admit it's a good subject, but you
are not the man to treat of it--here. You may suffice for mortals,
but here it is different. I can speak for myself. You can go out
and sit on the banks of the Vitriol Reservoir and lecture to the imps
if you want to, but when it comes to reminiscences of me I'm on deck
myself, and I flatter myself I remember what I said and did more
accurately than you do. Therefore, gentlemen, instead of listening
to Boswell at this point, you will kindly excuse him and listen to
me. Ahem! When I was a boy--"

"Excuse me," said Solomon, rising; "about how long is
this--ah--this entertaining discourse of yours to continue?"

"Until I get through," returned Johnson, wrathfully.

"Are you aware, sir, that I am on the programme?" asked
Solomon.

"I am," said the Doctor. "With that in mind, for the sake of
our fellow-spooks who are present, I am very much inclined to keep on
forever. When I was a boy--"

Carlyle rose up at this point.

"I should like to ask," he said, mildly, "if this is supposed to
be an audience of children? I, for one, have no wish to listen to
the juvenile stories of Doctor Johnson. Furthermore, I have come
here particularly to-night to hear Boswell. I want to compare him
with Froude. I therefore protest against--"

"There is a roof to this house-boat," said Doctor Johnson. "If
Mr. Carlyle will retire to the roof with Boswell I have no doubt he
can be accommodated. As for Solomon's interruption, I can afford to
pass that over with the silent contempt it deserves, though I may add
with propriety that I consider his most famous proverbs the most
absurd bits of hack-work I ever encountered; and as for that story
about dividing a baby between two mothers by splitting it in two, it
was grossly inhuman unless the baby was twins. When I was a
boy--"

As the Doctor proceeded, Carlyle and Solomon, accompanied by the
now angry Boswell, left the room, and my account of the
Story-tellers' Night must perforce stop; because, though I have never
heretofore confessed it, all my information concerning the house-boat
on the Styx has been derived from the memoranda of Boswell. It may
be interesting to the reader to learn, however, that, according to
Boswell's account, the Story-tellers' Night was never finished; but
whether this means that it broke up immediately afterwards in a riot,
or that Doctor Johnson is still at work detailing his reminiscences,
I am not aware, and I cannot at the moment of writing ascertain, for
Boswell, when I have the pleasure of meeting him, invariably avoids
the subject.