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Read Ebook: Pandora's Box: A Tragedy in Three Acts by Wedekind Frank Eliot Samuel A Samuel Atkins Translator
Font size: Background color: Text color: Add to tbrJar First Page Next PageEbook has 646 lines and 20577 words, and 13 pagesNOTHING TO DO. NOTHING TO DO: A TILT AT OUR BEST SOCIETY. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY JAMES FRENCH & CO. 1857. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by JAMES FRENCH & CO., In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. STEREOTYPED BY HOBART & ROBBINS, New England Type and Stereotype Foundery, BOSTON. Nothing to Do. Augustus Fitz-Herbert, as all are aware, Having crossed the Atlantic, and got a moustache on, Likewise being son of a known millionaire, Stands of course on the very top round of the fashion. Being taught to consider himself, from his birth, As one of the privileged ones of the earth, He cherishes deep and befitting disdain For those who don't live in the Fifth Avenue, As entirely unworthy the notice or thought Of the heir of two millions and nothing to do. He calls them canaille, which I'm credibly told Is the only French word which he caught when away; And though, in my case, if I might be so bold, I should say it scarce paid one for half a year's stay, The heir of two millions and nothing to do, Who lives in a palace in Fifth Avenue, As a matter of course, is no fitting comparison For the heir of an inkstand and something to do, Who lodges up stairs, in the house of Miss Harrison. In this model republic, this land of the free-- So our orators call it, and why should not we?-- 'Tis refreshing to know that without pedigree A man may still climb to the top of the tree; That questions of family, rank, and high birth, All bow to the query, How much is he worth? That John Smith, plebeian, who forty years since Walked Broadway barefooted, now rides as a prince; Having managed, though not overburdened with wit, But rather by chance and a fortunate hit, To take a high place on Society's rounds; His claims being based on pence, shillings, and pounds. I admit there's a certain republican merit In making the fortune which others inherit; But why should John Smith so completely ignore The bridge which has brought him triumphantly o'er, And turn with disgust from the opposite shore? And why, when Miranda, whose heart is not proof Against Cupid's sharp arrows, some day leaves his roof, And, sundering her family-ties at a jerk, Returns in the evening--the wife of his clerk! Thus at Love's trumpet-call bidding Duty defiance, Should he strive to break up the clandestine alliance? For, though men have made money, and will do again, There was never a case known where money made men; And if Jones be a man in what constitutes manhood, He's a far better match than young Frederic Stanwood, Though the one be a clerk, and the other the heir Of the house next M'Flimsey's, on Madison-square. If the one is deficient in wealth, we may find The other quite bankrupt in morals and mind. Excuse this digression, which yet is germain To the subject in hand, as will be very plain When I say that Fitz-Herbert's respected progenitor Did business years since, as I'm told, in a den eight or Ten feet each way, where he daily had calls From all sorts of people with all sorts of things, From coats and umbrellas to bracelets and rings, To be left, until claimed, at the Three Golden Balls. But now, long emerged from his chrysalis state, Should his former acquaintances call at his gate, They would doubtless receive speedy notice to leave-- Not the articles brought, but the dwelling instanter, With their pace perhaps changed to a very quick canter. There is something that puzzles me, let me confess-- Why these rare old antiques wear so modern a dress! Unless, like the comet which now reappears, For the first time, I think, within hundreds of years, So fashions in dress run through regular courses, And strictly obey the mechanical forces. Let me hereby suggest that some almanac-maker, In his very next issue but one, undertake a Brief record of Fashions that may re?ppear In the course of the next or the following year. With what eager eyes would our wives read, be sure, About--this--time--expect--a--new--style--of--coiffure, A black lace Fichu under dark satin loops; Or, more ominous still, a recurrence of hoops! Attended, perhaps, by the brief intimation, Based upon strict and exact calculation, That the first would enjoy but a limited reign, as It was looked for next year in far-distant Uranus; While the last had intended to visit us sooner, But tarried a while with the ladies of Luna. From his journal I venture below to record A single impression received while abroad: "June 7th, we reached Athens--a sizable place, Some three or four miles from the Gulf of AEgina; It contains a cathedral not equal to Grace Church in New York, which I think is much finer. Went up to the top of the famous Acropolis, Which is visited daily by hundreds of people, But can't say I think that the view from the top o' this Is equal to that from our Trinity steeple. The houses are mostly unsightly and small; In Minerva and Hermes' street noticed a few Which will do very well, but are nothing at all Compared with our mansion in Fifth-Avenue. The piles of old ruins one sees here and there I consider a perfect disgrace to the town; If they had an efficient and competent Mayor, Like our Mayor Wood, he would soon have them down." ALVA. You see that I fear nothing. RODRIGO. According to the latest wire, the doctor is on his way to Constantinople to have his "Earth-spirit" produced before the Sultan by harem-ladies and eunuchs. ALVA. It's shorter for you thru here. RODRIGO. You were going to give more money to the crazy sky-rocket! ALVA. What has that to do with you? RODRIGO. I get paid like a lamp-lighter, tho I had to demoralize all the Sisters in the hospital. Then came the assistants' and the doctors' turn, and then-- ALVA. Will you seriously inform me that the medical professors let themselves be influenced by you? RODRIGO. With the money those gentlemen cost me I could become President of the United States! ALVA. But Fr?ulein von Geschwitz has reimbursed you for every penny that you spent. So far as I know you're getting a monthly salary of five hundred marks from her besides. It is often pretty hard to believe in your love for the unhappy murderess. When I asked Fr?ulein von Geschwitz just now to accept my help, it certainly was not to incite your insatiable avarice. The admiration which I have learnt to have for Fr?ulein von Geschwitz in this affair, I am far from feeling towards you. It is not at all clear to me what claims of any kind you can make upon me. That you chanced to be present at the murder of my father has not yet created the slightest bond of relationship between you and me. On the contrary, I am firmly convinced that if the heroic undertaking of Countess Geschwitz had not come your way you would be lying somewhere to-day without a penny, drunken in the gutter. RODRIGO. And do you know what would have become of you if you hadn't sold for two millions the tuppeny paper your father ran? You'd have hitched up with the stringiest sort of ballet-girl and been to-day a stable-boy in the Humpelmeier Circus. What work do you do? You've written a drama of horrors in which my bride's calves are the two chief figures and which no high-class theater will produce. You walking pajamas! You fresh rag-bag you! Two years ago I balanced two saddled cavalry-horses on this chest. How that'll go now, after this , is a question sure enough. The foreign girls will get a fine idea of German art when they see the sweat come beading thru my tights at every fresh kilo-weight! I shall make the whole auditorium stink with my exhalations! ALVA. You're weak as a dish-clout! RODRIGO. Would to God you were right! or did you perhaps intend to insult me? If so, I'll set the tip of my toe to your jaw so that your tongue'll crawl along the carpet over there! ALVA. Try it! Who is that...? RODRIGO. You can thank God that I have no public here before me! ALVA. Who can that be! RODRIGO. That is my beloved. It's a full year now since we've seen each other. ALVA. But how should they be back already! Who can be coming there? I expect no one. RODRIGO. Oh the devil, unlock it! ALVA. Hide yourself! RODRIGO. I'll get behind the porti?res. I've stood there once before, a year ago. ALVA. With whom have I--.... You? Aren't you--? HUGENBERG. Alfred Hugenberg. ALVA. What can I do for you? HUGENBERG. I've come from M?nsterburg. I ran away this morning. ALVA. My eyes are bad. I am forced to keep the blinds closed. HUGENBERG. I need your help. You will not refuse me. I've got a plan ready. Can anyone hear us? ALVA. What do you mean? What sort of a plan? HUGENBERG. Are you alone? ALVA. Yes. What do you want to impart to me? HUGENBERG. I've had two plans already that I let drop. What I shall tell you now has been worked out to the last possible chance. If I had money I should not confide it to you; I thought about that a long time before coming.... Will you not permit me to set forth to you my design? ALVA. Will you kindly tell me just what you are talking about? ALVA. I beg to decline the supposition. HUGENBERG. You would say that; I understand that, of course. But all the same you were her best witness. HUGENBERG. He was, too. But they didn't believe me. I wasn't put on my oath. ALVA. Where have you come from now? HUGENBERG. From a reform-school I broke out of this morning. ALVA. And what do you have in view? Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page |
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