The Whale and the Grasshopper Part 8

ses the King.

"''Tis the devil of a thing to be poor,' ses Matty.

"'Not at all, man,' ses the King. 'Poverty, as the Cardinal said to the Hibernians, is a gift of G.o.d.'

"'A gift of G.o.d?'

"'Yes.'

"'Well, then, 'tisn't much of a gift,' ses Matty.

"'No,' ses the King, 'you wouldn't think of comparing it to the gift of stupidity, which is the greatest of all gifts, especially when 'tis accompanied by an optimism that nothing could disturb but the gift of poverty itself.'

"'But be all that as it may,' ses Matty, 'no one should give anything away for nothing without making sure that they are going to get something for it.'

"'Well, if that wouldn't make an optimist of a man, nothing would,'

ses the King.

"'What is an optimist?' ses Matty.

"'An optimist,' ses the King, 'is a pessimist who has acquired the art of self-deception.'

"'And what is a pessimist then?' ses Matty.

"'Oh,' ses the King, 'a pessimist is one who has got tired of being an optimist. And now,' ses he, 'maybe you could tell me what is the difference between an Irishman and an Irish-American?'

"'An Irishman,' ses Matty, 'by reason of the fact that he was born in Ireland and the product of an older civilization thinks he is a better Irishman than the Irish-American; and the Irish-American by reason of the fact that he was born an American and the product of a younger civilization, thinks he is a better German than an Irish-Irishman.'

"'If that is the case,' ses the King, 'I wouldn't advise you to commit suicide in Boston, because there are too many Irish-Americans there. And by all accounts the devil a bit they know or care about the Irish, no more than the English themselves. Now let us consider New York. What is the difference between New York and Boston, I wonder?'

"'There are more tall hats and silk neckties in New York,' ses Matty. 'And a native genius could go to his grave undiscovered there as easily as he could in Boston, while the patrons of art and men of letters would be feasting and entertaining foreign celebrities who don't give a traneen about them.'

"''Tis a queer world,' ses the King. 'And sure 'tis a genius you are yourself, and if I were you, I wouldn't commit suicide in either place. Personally, I think Madrid would be as good as any. Howsomever,'

ses he, 'I will ask my Lord High Chancellor and his Court of Learned Men about the matter, and if they can't decide between now and to-morrow morning, I will have them all hanged, drawn, and quartered, and advertise for a more efficient staff of attendants.'

"'Bedad, you're a gentleman,' ses Matty, 'and I'm glad to know that you don't show any leniency to your subordinates, because the instant you do so, they begin to think they are as good, as bad, or even worse than yourself, as the case may be.'

"'Treat all those above and beneath you with as little consideration as possible, and you will always be sure of respect,' ses the King.

"'There is nothing like being a fool when you have to deal with foolish people, and to behave sensibly under such circ.u.mstances would only break a man's heart.'

"'I notice that you are talking hoa.r.s.e,' ses the King. 'Is it the way that you have a cold?'

"''Tis a bad cold I have then,' ses Matty. 'And I'm afraid of my life that I may die before I will commit suicide.'

"'That would never do,' ses the King. And then and there he rang for the Queen, and told her to bathe Matty's feet in a tub of hot water, with plenty of mustard in it. And when the Queen had finished drying his toes, the King ordered a good gla.s.s of rum for him and ses: 'Matty of Ballydineen,' ses he, 'take this little toothful of sailor's coffee, and bury yourself under the blankets as quick as you can.'

"'Thank you, ever so much,' ses Matty, 'but where am I to sleep?'

"'You will sleep with me, of course,' ses the King. ''Twould never do if anything were to happen to you at such a critical time in your life.'

"So Matty slept with the King of Spain that night, but about two in the morning the King woke Matty with his snoring. Well, that was more than Matty could stand, and he lost his temper and gave the King a poke in the ribs with the heel of his fist, as he ses: 'What the blazes do you mean by depriving a decent man of his sleep like this for?' ses he.

"'Wisha, was it the way I was snoring again?' ses the King.

"'Why, I thought the last day had come, with the noise you were making with that trumpet of a nose of yours,' ses Matty.

"'That's too bad,' ses the King. 'I'll keep awake for the remainder of the night lest I might disturb you again.' And then they started talking about old times and the price of potatoes, ladies' hats, and fancy petticoats. But suddenly the King changed the subject, and ses: 'Tell me,' ses he, 'are the schoolmasters as ignorant, as conceited, and as pompous as ever?'

"''Tis only worse they are getting,' ses Matty, 'notwithstanding the cheapness of literature and free education.'

"'I am sorry to hear that,' ses the King. And so they discussed everything under the sun from bird-catching to c.o.c.k-fighting until morning came. And when they were called for breakfast, they rushed to the dining-room, and found the Queen and all the children seated around the table waiting for their bacon and eggs to be fried. The King, of course, was duly impressed, and as he sat down, and placed the newspaper in front of the sugar bowl to get a better view of it, he up and ses to the Queen: 'Good morning, ma'am,' ses he. 'What's the good word?'

"'The Lord High Chancellor and all his staff could not decide whether New York or Boston would be the best place for our worthy and distinguished guest to commit suicide, so they all hanged themselves during the night to save you the trouble of having it done to-day.'

"'Well,' ses the King to Matty, 'isn't it a great thing to have men in your employment who can show so much respect for yourself and such consideration for your feelings?'

"''Tis always a great pleasure, to get others to do what you wouldn't do yourself,' ses Matty.

"Then the King turned to the Queen and ses: 'They were good faithful servants, but like all of their kind they thought too little about themselves, and too much about those they tried to serve. The man who doesn't consider himself first in all things deserves to be considered last by everybody. Howsomever, they deserved to be buried anyway, so give orders to have them all cut down and sent home to their own people. They have the best right to them, now that they are no more use to any one else. But keep their old clothes and send them to the Salvation Army. 'Tis better, indeed, that the poor should have their overcoats and nights.h.i.+rts than the moths to eat them.'

"'Of course,' ses Matty, ''tis an ill wind that blows n.o.body good, but nevertheless, I am as badly off as ever, without one to advise me or to tell me what to do.'

"'Well,' ses the King, 'strictly speaking, when a man doesn't know what to do himself, the devil a much another can do for him. There is nothing cheaper than advice, and oftentimes nothing dearer, that is, if you are foolish enough to take it from everybody. Looking for advice is only a form of diversion with most people, because we all do what we please in the end. And now, between ourselves,'

ses he, 'once a man makes up his mind to marry the wrong woman, all the advice in the world won't save him. And once a man is married, he is no longer his own property. I have done my best for you,' ses the King, 'but the world is full of people who can do as little as myself. Howsomever, I will give you a letter of introduction to my friend the President of the United States, as you are on your way to America, and he may be able to help you.'

"'Thank you very much,' ses Matty. 'I have already been in America, and I have had as many letters of introduction as would paper the house for you, but they were no more use to me than they were to Columbus. No more use, I might say, than a fur-lined coat and a pair of warm gloves would be to the Devil himself. But I am none the less grateful for your kindness.'

"'I am glad you are able to appreciate kindness,' ses the King. 'Because very few people know when they are well treated, or when they are well off.'

"'That's a fact,' ses Matty. 'But 'tis the spirit of discontent that keeps the world moving. The man who is satisfied with himself usually proves unsatisfactory to every one else.'

"'But,' ses the King, 'when a man has the gift of being able to please himself, what does it matter, if he displeases every one else? 'Tis nice, of course, to have a lot of friends, but a man's friends very often can cause him more annoyance than his enemies, and he must endure it to prove his inconsistency. Whereas in the case of an enemy, you can always lose your self-respect by abusing him when you are displeased with his success, and no one will think anything the less of you.'

"''Tis only by making allowances and excuses for each other's short-comings and idiosyncracies that we are able to live at all. And if we could see the good in the worst of us as easily as we can see the bad in the best of us, we might think less of ourselves and more of those we despise. 'Tis only by being better than those who are worse than us that we can respect ourselves, I'm thinking,' ses Matty.

"'Well,' ses the King, 'what the devil a man with as much sense as yourself wants committing suicide for is more than I can understand!'

"'Maybe 'tis as well,' ses Matty. 'The less we know about each other, the happier we can be. Nearly every one of us has some disease of the mind or body that shortens our natural existence. Some suffer from too much conceit, others from a shaky heart, or a loose brain caused by a nagging wife, or too much hard work and not enough to eat, and various other causes, but there is always a reason for everything, even the unreasonableness of those who have no reason at all.'

"'Old talk, like this,' ses the King, 'leads nowhere, because no matter how much we may know about art, literature, and music, the very best of us can only be reasonable and sensible when we have nothing to upset us. A hungry man is always angry, and an angry man is never sensible. On the other hand, a man will make a lot of foolish promises and resolutions after a good dinner, and when he begins to get hungry again he will think that he was a fool for having entertained such decent sentiments.'

"'In a word,' ses Matty, 'selfishness is the normal condition of every one. Some are selfish by being decent, and others by being mean, but strictly speaking, there is very little difference between them, because we all please ourselves, no matter what we do.'

"'I know we do,' ses the King, 'and that's why we incur the displeasure of others. But as we are beginning to get involved and going back to where we started like those who discuss, but can't understand theology, or like the bird who flies away in the morning, only to return to its nest at the fall of night, I think we had better finish, now that we have ended, so to speak, and bid each other good-by.'

"'Surely,' ses Matty, ''tisn't the way that you would let me out of doors a cold day like this, without a bit of a topcoat to shelter me from the cold and wind, and I with a touch of the influenza already?'

"'Well,' ses the King, 'I have had enough of your company, and when we get tired of those who have either entertained, helped, or distracted us, we usually find a way of getting rid of them. The greatest mistake in life is to be too kind to any one. When a woman is getting tired of her husband, everything he does to please her only causes her annoyance. But nevertheless, if she has any sense at all, she can't but respect him for wasting his affection on one not worthy of it.'