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Page 1: Beauty's votary - University of Oklahoma181-182_1931v3n5... · Beauty's votary BY JOHNJOSEPH MATHEWS, '20 Pawhuska, January 3 had spent several days along the shore of Lago Maggiore

1931

Beauty's votary

BY JOHN JOSEPH MATHEWS, '20

Pawhuska, January 3

had spent several days alongthe shore of Lago Maggiore . I had de-lighted in its many moods; the earlymorning mists hanging over the water atthe foot of the mountains, stretched therelike gossamer, melting away as the sunappeared ; the sparkling expanse overwhich sailed fishing boats, their dirty sailswhite against the dark mountains, andthe smooth waters on calm days givingback the blue of the Italian sky and mir-roring both boat and sail . I had climbedthe foot-hills rising from the lake, andfrom the eminence, watched the alpen-glow on the peaks to the north turn fromroseate, gradually to mauve, then dis-appear, leaving the water inky and viscous,leaving the islands far out in the lake asmere illusions .At last I was ready to explore Isole

Bella . I would visit Isole Bella first, ofthe three islands, because the name fas-cinated me .The boatmen swarmed around me,

each assuring me of his skill and the com-fort and all round worthiness of his particular boat, pointing to them as they layrocking gently at the waters edge . Someknew the English necessary to their pro-fession, and with a mixture of Englishand Italian implored and gesticulated.Others knew French, and rolling their"It's" claimed knowledge of those thingswhich would interest a tourist .

I stood in the circle watching the antic-ipation on their faces, and listening to thejabber. I thought that the harsh accentof "banana inglish" might become tire-some on the long trip to the island, andsince the morning was beautiful, and Iwas in the mood for talking, that I shouldmuch prefer the softer accents of theFrench . I finally chose a large peasant-like fellow who seemed to speak thelanguage well .He was tall and very strong. His hands

were large and horny with thick stiff fin-gers ; the hands of a peasant. His face wasvery heavy and dull, and his eyes werecrossed ; one good eye crossing a blind one .

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There was something hard and soullessabout him; something bovine and bestial .His thin hair was dull and seemed badlynourished on the small low browed head.The faint spirit which had shone in hisface during anticipation, had suddenlydisappeared after he had been chosen asboatman.We had been out about ten minutes . I

had lost all interest in talking with thisstupid insensitive fellow, and had begunto feel that I might have chosen some onemore alert ; anything would be better thanthis giant ox . I knew there was no useattempting to talk with him. Whateverinterest his life might hold, or how filledwith interest his back-ground, he wouldnot have enough imagination to give in-formation . I knew from experience thatthere was only one question that wouldnot be answered in stupid monosyllables .I watched the graceful movements of hisarms and body against the small sail fora few seconds, then asked him if he knewanything about the history of the island ;anything of the story that one knows ofthe island . It seemed that he waited fora few seconds before my words could pene-trate his thick skull, then without changeof expression he began to tell me the storyas he had learned it ; the story necessaryfor his profession . Listlessly he recitedthe story with the facility of one who hasrecited the same thing many times, addingnothing and forgetting nothing. Therewas not even the expression of relief onhis face as he finished . His words justdied away and he rowed on as thoughhe had never spoken . For the rest of thetrip I got what I could out of the picturehe made there against the white sail, withhis graceful movements .

I walked around the island until I wastired . There had not been much to see,except the ruins of a ducal palace and gar-dens, but there was dreaminess and ro-mance in the air . I was made happy bythe picture of a white peacock standingwith dignity on some crumbling steps inthe garden, and thought with pleasure of

some vague lines in Fitzgerald's Omar;something about wild asses now stampingwhere kings had drunk . The connectionwas not exactly clear but the thought waspleasing .

I sat at a table overlooking the lake andordered chianti and food . I was filled withcontentment as I watched the waterschange in the light of the late afternoon . Iwas wondering if I would be able to findPietro with the fishermen among theirnets at the end of the island, when I sud-denly became aware of three figuresstanding before my table . A strange trio .The two men took off their hats andbowed, then began to take their guitarsout of their cases . A pretty brown-leggedgirl with dark eyes and flashing teethwaited for the men to tune up . She satnonchalantly on the back of one of thechairs, so self satisfied and ready to chal-lenge with her eyes and body any malewho might question her appeal . A redhandkerchief was tied around her head,and she wore a multi-colored wide skirt .She had many cheap bracelets and herneck and chest were tarnished by a cheapchain and pendant, and the tarnish onher ankles seemed to be the shadows ofthe brass anklets she wore .When the music started she swirled and

spunon her bare feet till her skirt stood outand her baubles clinked . The music wasfast and merry and she become more andmore excited as she danced . I watcheduntil she flopped into a chair as the musicended . I was wondering if one lira wouldbe enough to give them, when Pietro cameup to me and solemnly suggested thatmonsieurrr-a would perhaps like to returnbefore the night became cold, and whenI answered that I would wait, he seemeddisappointed and turned away .Encouraged by my apparent delight

with the dancing and the throaty singing,indicated by the five lira which I hadgiven them, the trio gave me more musicand this time the brown legged girldanced and sang more boldly . I guessedby the animation of the musicians as theywinked knowingly at me that the songwas suggestive of Latin love .They had gone on to another table,

when Pietro came up again and with aningratiating manner foreign to his stupidindifference, asked if the monsieurrr-adid not wish to get back to the main-landbefore the storm came up.

"Storm, what storm? One can see thatthe weather is good.""Ah, monsieurrr-a does not understand ;

storms come so quickly on the Lago, andit is very difficult to row in the storm,and the sail cannot be used ; there is the .danger of tipping."" I have hired you and your boat for the

day, and I shall leave when it seems goodto me." I was annoyed with him and hispetty trickery, as I watched his greatstupid face .

"It is good," he said dismally, "if mon-TURN TO PAGE 181, PLEASE

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1931

creased as rapidly as it did, the stockmarket boom (based on higher profits andfed on bank credit) would not have oc-curred, and we would not have had muchcredit inflation . Installment buying wouldnot have been as great, neither would thebalance of foreign trade have been aslarge; but the home demand for con-sumers' goods would have been supportedby actual money received rather than byartificial means.Time will not permit me to discuss the

difficulties in the way of recovery fromthe present depression . However, I mustsay that I do not agree that the presentwidespread unemployment situation wouldbe relieved materially by lowering wages.The larger part of the present unemploy-ment is due to the closing down of indus-try which in turn is due to the excess ofgoods in the markets.

SPOTLIGHT

CONTINUES FROM PAGE 170)

Muhlbach's rodeo. He indulges in neitherwar-whoop nor song of the "lone prairie."But he swings a mean rope and the breathof the prairie is in his sandy hair .He sticks his head around a prop, and

the audience receives the pleasure andthe shock of recognition . His awkward-ness is not foreign to America. Hereagain is that which was lovable in Lin-coln . With his ruffled hair and protrud-ing lip Rogers too has the charm of ugli-ness .

Of the professional funnymen it has

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been said that only Rogers and Cobb sug-gest their calling : they alone have the"anxious air of getting ready to cut theplate with a hot one." There is aboutRogers however none of the profitablecheerfulness and the busy briskness ofAmerican citizenry. The slouch suggestshis vast indifference to time . His is theeasy fellowship of the leisured class: thatclub life made up of a male countrysidewhich humanized Lincoln's wisdom andmade his expression popular. Rogers toohas the gift of dramatizing experiencethat springs from the swapping of yarnswith one's neighbors. And with the good-nature, strength, and innocence of theaverage Western American, he too givesthe impression of possessing in additionsomething of that personal, moral, andintellectual discipline that Herbert Crolyclaimed places Lincoln with the classictypes of consummate personal distinction .Will in person is irresistible . He is the

friend of college presidents and the Princeof Wales. He ropes, hog-ties, and brandshis audiences. And they like it, in thecapital of the United States as well as inthe University of Oklahoma . He pricksthe collegian's sophistication, jokes atOklahoma's traffic rules, jibes at Washing-ton's social wrangles . He is initiated intothe collegian's pet fraternity, has hotelsand statues raised to him in his hometown, and is in on whatever is served atCapitol tea-parties .Ambassador of the United States to

Europe, without Portfolio: Will Rogers,ready to crack his gum on any joke "fromBirth Control to Mass Production ."More than any other funnyman of his

period he represents the Great TypicalAmerican . Like Charlie Chaplin he too is

BEAUTY'S VOTARY

a symbol . But Charlie's comedy is one ofmanners ; and though he wanders on andoff The screen in an eternal isolation, hisis the great tradition of the Commediadell 'Ante. Rogers has no tradition. Andhe is never alone. Behind him always arethe people . Gauche, wise, friendly, he isthe people .

(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 171)

sieurrr-a wishes, but the storm will surelycome." I have never seen a man's face re-semble so much the face of a disappointedtrail-hound ."Oh, good then let us go . I have seen

all and I am very tired."His face lighted up incredibly, and he

was all attention to my comfort as wegot under way. He became excited and ashappy as a boy. He was alert to everymovement I made and anticipated mystatements . I became suddenly interestedin him and his changed mood . He lostsome of his graceful movement by sud-den quick jerks at the oars, and his oneeye actually became bright and intelligent .He took one of his hands from the oarto wipe the sweat from his forehead, andbefore taking the oar again pointed towhere the placid water was splashed pinkby the after-glow .The air was soft and the evening calm,

and the grinding of the oars in the locksseemed exaggerated . One could hearthe voices from the fishing boats far outon the lake .

"Pietro," I said suddenly, "you are

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18 2

happy that we are returning, and I amglad, but of course you were a little crazywhen you told me of the storm. I see ofcourse that all is tranquil, and that astorm will not come . You have a reasonfor returning at this time . Perhaps youhave a family, is that not so?"He beamed with good nature . "Yes

that is so monsieurrr-a, I have a family .""I hope that there is no one ill, that you

would hurry so.""No monsieurrr-a there is no one ill,

thank the good Lord.""Then tell me how many are there at

your home?""There are seven, monsieurrr-a, and one

en voyage." He said this smiling veryhappily.

I felt suddenly interested in Pietro andhis family . "Good then, I shall go homewith you and take presents to your wifeand children ."

"Monsieurrr-a is good, but I live a longway and monsieurrr-a would not care togo so far."

"No, Pietro I don't mind . I shall takepleasure ."

His face was troubled . "Monsieurrr-awill understand ; tomorrow perhaps hewill come and eat of our food, but to-night no . I cannot go home till late to-night.""Then you will go to the wine shop

and drink with the others till your headhas no sense; you will waste all yourmoney. You will tell your wife you stayed

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late on the island ." I could picture Pietroat the wine shop sitting around a tablewith others of his kind, laughing at coarse,obscene jokes, or talking of politics . Icould hear the arguments and smell theacrid odour of the sour wine, smoke anddried sweat. I could visualize Pietro lean-ing on his elbow, listening with mouthagape, while some glib member of theparty talked drivel .His face brightened and he was quick

to . assure me; he seemed transported byhappiness."No, truly monsieurrr-a, I shall not

waste the money ; I work all day and giveto my wife the money. Me, I care nothingabout the people at the wine shop . It isnot for me, such things . But tonight thereis the moonlight, and there will be muchbeauty . Everything will be silver and thewarm air will carry the perfume of theflowers." He took his hands from theoars and spread his arms as though hewould include the universe . "The night-birds and the trees will whisper, and themoon will rise like a beautiful lady ." Heseemed unaware of my presence for themoment . "It will be a night for amore.Me, I go with Luca and Guiseppe andPietro Benzalli, under the window of thesecond floor of the Hotel Barromeo . Therewe will sing of amore; there we will singof the night to a beautiful lady, to theplaying of our guitars. A beautiful ladyhas come to Stresa and we will sing ofthe night under her window."

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VISITING MASARYK

ing. In Europe, where this is rarely done,Mr Masaryk's performance in earning allof his way through school was a remark-able performance."His impressions of Brentano were still

fresh, for he had cultivated his acquaint-ance in every way open to him, on walks,and in visits in Brentano's home . Hischaracterization of Brentano was that hehad never known a keener mind, `like aknife,' to use his phrase . He made theinteresting point that one could not ap-preciate the quickness and sureness ofBrentano's mind from his books-whenone writes a book he polishes and refinesthe `quickness' away. He told of howBrentano had stood behind him in hisown efforts to find himself in a religiousway, and of Brentano , s friendly and help-ful criticism of his own early publication,"Doctor Eaton writes .

Doctor Eaton was amazed to find astatesman with the genuine interest inphilosophy that President Masaryk pos-sessed . Earlier, Mr Masaryk had writtenan important contribution to philosophy,his Concrete Logic, but even in his busiedyears in this century, the president has notput aside his interest in philosophy andseems anxious to exchange opinions withwandering philosophers .Franz Brentano was born in 1838 near

FOLK-SAY, A REGIONAL MISCELLANY: 1930

This annual, edited by B. A. Botkin of theDepartment of English of the University, hasbeen acclaimed -The most significant westernpublication in recent years, . by Carey

McWilliamsIiams in -The Saturday Review of Literature .*

Eleven Oklahomans contribute to Folk-Say . Itis a product of Oklahoma and of the South-west, of foremost importance to Oklahomansand to all those interested in literature in themaking.

February

(CONTINUED FROM PAGE 172)

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