Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald (Illustrated) (488 page)

The Senators look confused.

Doris
[tragically].
This was to have been my wedding reception day.

Senator Fish begins to weep softly to himself.

Judge Fossile
[angrily to Jerry].
This is preposterous, sir! You’re a dangerous man! You’re a menace to the nation!We will proceed no further. Have you anything to say before we vote on the motion made by the State of Idaho?

Charlotte. Yes, he has. He’s got a whole mouthful!

Doris. This is the feature moment of my life. Cecil B. Demille would shoot it with ten cameras. Judge Fossile. Remove these women.

The women are not removed.

Jerry
[nervously].
Gentlemen, before you take this step into your hands I want to put my best foot forward. Let us consider a few aspects. For instance, for the first aspect let us take, for example, the War of the Revolution. There was ancient Rome, for example. Let us not only live so that our children who live after us, but also that our ancestors who preceded us and fought to make this country what it is!

General applause.

And now, gentlemen, a boy to-day is a man to-morrow — or, rather, in a few years. Consider the winning of the West — Daniel Boone and Kit Carson, and in our own time Buffalo Bill and — and Jesse James!

Prolonged applause.

Finally, in closing, I want to tell you about a vision of mine that I seem to see. I seem to see Columbia — Columbia — ah — blindfolded — ah — covered with scales — driving the ship of state over the battle-fields of the republic into the heart of the golden West and the cotton-fields of the sunny South.

Great applause. Mr. Jones, with his customary thoughtfulness, serves a round of cocktails.

Judge Fossile
[sternly].
Gentlemen, you must not let yourselves be moved by this man’s impassioned rhetoric. The State of Idaho has moved his impeachment. We shall put it to a vote —  —

Jerry
[interrupting].
Listen here, Judge Fossile, a state has got to be part of a country in order to impeach anybody, don’t they?

Judge Fossile. Yes.

Jerry. Well, the State of Idaho doesn’t belong to the United States any more.

A general sensation. Senator Fish stands up and sits down.

Judge Fossile. Then who does it belong to?

Snooks
[pushing his way to the front].
It belongs to the nation of Irish Poland.

An even greater sensation.

Jerry. The State of Idaho is nothing but a bunch of mountains. I’ve traded it to the nation of Irish Poland for the BuzzardIslands.

Mr. Jones hands the treaty to Judge Fossile.

Fish
[on his feet].
Judge Fossile, the people of Idaho —  —

Snooks. Treason! Treason! Set down, fella! You’re a subject of the nation of Irish Poland.

Jerry
[pointing to Fish].
Those foreigners think they can run this country.

The other Senators shrink away from Fish.

Judge Fossile
[to Fish].
If you want to speak as a citizen of the United States, you’ll have to take out naturalization papers.

Snooks. I won’t let him. I’m goin’ to take him with me. He’s part of our property.

He seizes the indignant Fish firmly by the arm and pins a large “Sold” badge to the lapel of his coat.

Doris
[heartily].
Well, I’m certainly glad I didn’t marry a foreigner.

Just at this point, when Jerry seems to have triumphed all around, there is the noise of a fife and drum outside, and General Pushing marches in, followed by his musical escort. The General is in a state of great excitement.

General Pushing. Mr. President, I am here on the nation’s business!

The Senators. Hurrah!

General Pushing. War must be declared!

The Senators. Hurrah!

Jerry. Who is the enemy?

General Pushing. The enemy is the nation of Irish Poland!

All eyes are now turned upon Snooks, who looks considerably alarmed.

General Pushing
[raising his voice].
On to the BuzzardIslands!

The Senators. Hurrah! Hurrah! Down with Irish Poland!

Judge Fossile. Now, Mr. President, all treaties are off!

General Pushing
[looking scornfully at Jerry].
He tried to trade the State of Idaho for some islands full of Buzzards. Bah!

The Senators. Bah!

Snooks
[indignantly].
What’s ee idea? Is this a frame-up to beat the nation of Irish Poland outa their rights? We want the State of Idaho. You want the BuzzardIslands, don’t you?

General Pushing. We can take them by force. We’re at war.
[To the Senators.]
We’ve ordered all stuffed Buzzards to be removed from the natural history museums.
[Cheers.]
And domestic Buzzards are now fair game, both in and out of season.
[More cheers.]
Buzzard domination would be unthinkable.

Judge Fossile
[pointing to Jerry].
And now, Senators. How many of you vote for the impeachment of this enemy of the commonwealth?

The five Senators stand up.

Judge Fossile
[to Jerry].
The verdict of a just nation. Is there any one here to say why this verdict should not stand?

Dada, who all this time has been absorbed in the contemplation of the heavens, suddenly throws down his telescope with a crash.

Dada
[in a tragic voice].
It’s too late!

All. Too late?

Dada. Too late for the world to end this afternoon. I must have missed the date by two thousand years.
[Wringing his hands.]
I shall destroy myself!

Dada tries to destroy himself. He produces a pistol, aims at himself, and fires. He flounders down
—
but he has missed.

Doris
[standing over him and shaking her finger].
You miss everything! I’m going to send for the lunatic-asylum wagon — if it’ll
come!

Dada
[shaking his finger back at her].
Your parents brought you up very unsuccessfully —  —

Judge Fossile. Silence! I will pronounce sentence of impeachment on this enemy of mankind. Look upon him!

They all look dourly at Jerry.

Now, gentlemen, the astronomers tell us that in the far heavens, near the southern cross, there is a vast space called the hole in the sky, where the most powerful telescope can discover no comet nor planet nor star nor sun.

They all look very cold and depressed. Jerry shivers. Fish picks up Dada’s abandoned telescope and begins an eager examination of the firmament.

In that dreary, cold, dark region of space the Great Author of Celestial Mechanism has left the chaos which was in the beginning. If the earth beneath my feet were capable of expressing its emotions it would, with the energy of nature’s elemental forces, heave, throw, and project this enemy of mankind into that vast region, there forever to exist in a solitude as eternal as — as eternity.

When he finishes a funereal silence falls.

Jerry
[his voice shaken with grief].
Well, Judge, all I’ve got to say is that no matter what you’d done I wouldn’t want to do all those things to you.

Judge Fossile
[thunderously].
Have you anything more to say?

Jerry
[rising through his defeat to a sort of eloquent defiance].
Yes. I want to tell you all something. I don’t want to be President.
[A murmur of surprise.]
I never asked to be President. Why — why, I don’t even know how in hell I ever
got
to be President!

General Pushing
[in horror].
Do you mean to say that there’s one American citizen who does not desire the sacred duty of being President? Sir, may I ask, then, just what you do want?

Jerry
[wildly].
Yes! I want to be left alone.

Outside the wall Mr. Stutz-Mozart’s Orang-Outang Band strikes up
“
The Bee’s Knees.” The Senators arise respectfully and remove their hats, and General Pushing, drawing his sword, stands at the salute.

Four husky baggage smashers stagger out of the White House with the trunks of the Frost family, and hurry with them through the gate. Half a dozen assorted suitcases are flung after the trunks.

The music continues to play, the Senators continue to stand. The Frost family gaze at their departing luggage, each under the spell of a different emotion.

Charlotte is the first to pick up her grip. As she turns to the Senators, the music sinks to pianissimo, so her words are distinctly audible.

Charlotte. If it’s any satisfaction to yon, I’m going to be a different wife to him from now on. From now on I’m going to make his life perfectly miserable.

Charlotte goes out to a great burst of jazz. Dada, with some difficulty, locates his battered carpet-bag.

Dada. I find I missed the date by two thousand years. Eventually I will destroy myself.

Dada is gone now, hurried out between two porters and Doris is next. With dignity she selects her small but arrogant hand-bag.

Doris. All I want to say is if Cecil B. Demille ever saw the White House he’d say: “All right, that may do for the gardener’s cottage. Now I’ll start building a
real
house.”

As she leaves she tries desperately to walk out of step with the music and avoid the suggestion of march-ing. The attempt is not altogether successful.

President Jerry Frost now picks up his bag.

Jerry
[defiantly].
Well, anyways I showed you you couldn’t put anything over on me.
[Glancing around, his eye falls on the “Special Tree.” He goes over and pulls it up by the roots.]
This was given to me by some natives. That sign’s mine, too. I had it invented.
[He pauses.]
I guess you think I wasn’t much good as a President, don’t you? Well, just try electing me again.

General Pushing
[sternly].
We won’t! As a President you’d make a good postman.

At this sally there is a chorus of laughter.

Then Charlotte’s voice again. Does it come from outside the gate, or, mysteriously enough, from somewhere above?

Charlotte [very
distinctly].
Shut the door! I can smell that stuff up here!

A bewildered look comes into Jerry’s eyes. He says “What?
”
in a loud voice.

Then with the tree in one hand and his grip in the other, he is hurried, between two porters, briskly toward the gate, while the Orang-Outang Band crashes into louder and louder jazz and

The Curtain Falls

Act III

Now we’re back at the Frosts’ house, and it’s a week after the events narrated in Act I. It is about nine o
’clock
in the morning, and through the open windows the sun is shining in great, brave squares upon the carpet. The jars, the glasses, the phials of a certain memorable night have been removed, but there is an air about the house quite inconsistent with the happy day outside an air of catastrophe, a profound gloom that seems to have settled even upon the “Library of Wit and Humor” in the dingy bookcase.

There is brooding going on upon the premises.

A quick tat-tat-tat from outdoors — the clatter of someone running up the porch steps. The door opens and Doris comes in, Doris in a yellowish skirt with a knit jersey to match, Doris chewing, faintly and delicately, what can surely be no more than a sheer wisp of gum.

Doris
[calling].
Char-lotte.

A Voice
[broken and dismal, from upstairs].
Is that you, Doris?

Doris. Yeah. Can I come up?

The Voice.
[It’s Charlotte’s. You’d scarcely have recognized it.]
I’ll come down.

Doris. Heard anything from Jerry?

Charlotte. Not a word.

Doris regards herself silently, but with interest, in a small mirror on the wall. In comes Charlotte
—
and oh, how changed from herself of last week. Her nose and eyes are red from weeping. She’s chastened and depressed.

Doris
[with cheerful pessimism].
Haven’t heard a word, eh?

Charlotte
[lugubriously]. 
No. Not one.

Doris
[impressed in spite of herself].
Son of a gun! And he sneaked away a week ago to-night.

Charlotte. It was that awful liquor, I
know.
He sat up all night and in the morning he was gone.