menu_book Chapter 1

Chapter 1 of But Gentleman Mary Burnett's. I am going to begin a diary again, because I have got quite a little time on my hands with nothing to do for quite a time. I mean, in the first place, I am full of ambitions, and I think that practically every married girl ought to have a career if she is wealthy enough to have the home life carried on by the servants, especially if a girl is married

to a husband like Henry, because Henry is quite a homebody, and if a girl was a homebody too, she would encounter him quite often. So that is why I try to do something in life and not let everything stop, just because I have married the one of my choice. But I always believe in knowing several different kinds of people, and as long as my husband is of the wealthy classes, I prefer to meet brainy gentlemen who have got ideas on the

outside. So I am practically always picking up something, and then when I go back and encounter Henry, I always have some new remark or other to make. For if Henry and I spent all of our time together, neither of our ideas would be so bright. And it is bright ideas that keep the home fires burning and prevent a divorce from taking all of the bloom off romance. So after Henry and I became married, the first career I started to have was the cinema,

and we produced a super production based on the sex life in the period of Dolly Madison. But when they wrote the scenario, we had quite a little trouble, because the scenario writer wanted it to be full of nothing but psychology, and the director wanted it to be full of mob scenes and ornamental sets, and Henry wanted it to be full of a great moral lesson. And I did not care what it was full of, so long as it was full of plenty of cute scenes where the

leading man would chase me around the trunk of a tree, and I would peek out at him like Lillian Gish. So then Mr. Goldmark, the great film magnet, said, Why not be on the safe side and have it full of everything? So the scenario turned out to be delightful, because it was not only a cute love story, but it was quite psychological, and it also taught a great moral lesson and had very ornamental sets in addition to a violent mutiny in the army, and it was really so full of everything

that sometimes three or four things had to happen at once. For instance, the most psychological scene that Dolly Madison had took place in the mother-of-pearl bathtub of an executive mansion, thinking of her sweetheart in double exposure with the mutiny of the army going on right outside the bathroom window. Well, it seems that Dolly Madison was a Washington girl, so we had to go to Washington, D.C. to take the scenes on account of historical accuracy. But it was quite difficult to make the

motion pictures in Washington, because just when you select some delightful spot near the Capitol and get everything all ready to take the scene, Senator Borer, or some other great man, would come up and plant himself in front of the camera. I mean, it is practically impossible to have a camera at Washington, D.C., and keep great men away from the front of it. And after all, those senators would have practically ruined the picture, because even if their costumes are quite quaint, they are not

in the period of Dolly Madison. So I finally asked Dorothy to think up some good excuse to make them go away, and Dorothy told them that they would have to get out because we were making a psychological picture and their mental state had not yet reached the period of Dolly Madison. But I really think Dorothy could have used her brains and thought up a little more tact to use on senators. Well, when our cinema was finished, the title turned out to be Stronger Than Sex, which was thought up

by quite a bright girl in Mr. Goldmark's suite of offices. And the great moral lesson was that girls could always help it if they would only stop and think of Mother. And the close-up of me, where I stopped and thought of Mother, with a special lighting effect and blurred photography through a gauze screen, was really quite flattering. So we would have gone right on making more cinemas, except for something. Because I am very fond of kitties, and when a girl has married a wealthy

gentleman like Henry, motherhood is even more beautiful, especially if it turns out to look like Daddy. And even Dorothy says that a kid that looks like any rich father is as good as money in the bank. I mean, sometimes Dorothy becomes philosophical and says something that really makes a girl wonder how anyone who can make such a philosophical remark can waste her time like Dorothy does. And I always think that the sooner a girl becomes a mother after the ceremony,

the more likely it is to look like Daddy. I mean, before a girl's mind gets concentrated on something else. But Dorothy said she would stop at one kitty, if she was I, because she thinks that one is enough of almost anything that looks like Henry. But Dorothy has no reverence for motherhood. So of course I had to give up the cinema, because I could not be as dishonest as one married cinema star I knew, who signed a contract to do quite a long serial, and did not tell the film corporation

her secret. So before the serial was half finished, it began to become quite embarrassing to take scenes of her in full length, because in the scenario she was only supposed to be a slip of an unmarried girl. So finally they had to start taking all of her scenes, showing nothing but her head sticking up over the top of a bush, or looking out of a window, and the result was that she got more close-ups than any film star ever got before. But I don't think it is honorable to get close-ups

by such a means as that. Well, after Henry heard about my secret, he had the idea to go and live at their old country estate where our Little Mouse could be born. Because Little Mouse was the nickname we thought up to call it by, until we found out what it was going to turn out to be. But I really preferred New York. So I told Henry that his whole family had been born in the suburbs of Philadelphia, so why not give our Little Mouse a chance? Because I read in a scientific medical

book called Waiting for the Little Stranger that you should be where you can look at quite a lot of art, and have sweet thoughts, and read nothing but beautiful poems and beautiful novels before it takes place. But Dorothy said I better slip in a page of Ring Lardner once in a while, or if he was a boy, he might grow up to be a milliner. But anyway, I told Henry we ought to go to New York where all the art and literature is. But Henry said their own parlor in the suburbs of Philadelphia

was practically full of art, because his father had spent years and years collecting nothing else. And there really are quite a lot of small-sized crockery statues of girls and their escorts getting ready to break into a minuet with three glass showcases full of early period watches, to say nothing of the large marble statue of a full-size baby having a bath with a real sponge in his hand and seven piano lamps. So Henry said, why go to New York with all of that art under my

own roof? But I told Henry that the art in our parlor was finished, but the art of New York is still going on, and you can meet great artists at their exhibitions and ask why they did it and learn something. But Henry thought he ought to stay where his father was, because Henry's father is over 90, and Henry was trying to break him of quite a bad habit he had of making a new will every time a new nurse went on the case. And it does not seem to matter how unattractive a new

nurse they are able to find, Henry's father can always weave a romance around her, until we sometimes wish that he would get well or something. And Henry's mother is just as full of romance as his father. I mean, when an elderly lady of 72 is always getting an idea that the butler is madly in love with her, it is quite difficult to keep in butlers. And Dorothy says that if we could only manage to get all the songwriters to meet Henry's mother, it would be the quickest way to

free the world of mother's songs. And as for Henry's sister, she and I have practically nothing that is common. I mean, I do not mind boyish models on girls if they copy some well-groomed fashion plate, like what the young man will wear, for instance. But Anne Spofford is the kind of a type that spends all of her time between a stable and a kennel without having pressing done. I mean, I always try to think the best of everyone. And I really suppose it is quite

unselfish for a girl to spend weeks and weeks washing a dog with mange cure, to cure its mange, and never give a thought to herself. But after all, she could be kind to people, too, and make more use of eau de cologne before coming into the salon. So I finally had to put my brains to work to get Henry to move to New York. And when I put them to work, I discovered that the real reason Henry wanted to stay in the suburbs of Philadelphia

was because he is quite prominent as long as he stays there. But by the time he arrives in New York, he does not seem to be so unusual. Because after all, to be prominent at New York, people have to be like Mr. Otto Kahn, for instance, who does quite a lot for art. Or else like the reformers who do quite a lot against it. I mean, Mr. Kahn can always make himself prominent by starting some artistic play, while any reformer can make himself prominent by stopping one. But Henry never seems

to have enough ideas to start anything. And even if it does not take any ideas to stop something, New York is full of such a lot of that kind of people that the competition is quite heavy. And the only thing that Henry can really do is talk against low morals. And he does not even seem to be able to make people repent, because the only ones who ever want to listen to that kind of conversation are people whose morals are pure, and who only want to listen to it talked

about. And the risque things that Henry can think up may intrigue the suburbs of Philadelphia, but they really would not be such a thrill in New York. Well, of course, when gentlemen from Kansas City or St. Louis come to New York and feel themselves becoming unprominent, they can always make themselves very important by spending quite a lot of money on head waiters and ticket speculators and the hostesses at nightclubs. For practically anyone can call Texas Guinan by her first name

for a few hundred dollars. But being prominent at Texas Guinans would not really amuse Henry. Unless he could go there and notice people enjoying themselves, and then be prominent in getting it closed up. So I had to think quite hard to think up some way to make Henry feel prominent in New York, and I decided that the quickest way was for him to join some associations. So then I thought of a gentleman friend of mine in New York, who is very, very prominent and belongs

to practically everything, and I wrote him a letter and asked him if he could get some invitations for Henry to come to New York and belong to something or other. So this gentleman belongs to the Friends of Culture and the Nature Lovers Association and New York Distemper League, which is against dogs having distemper, and the Ohio Society. And he got Henry an invitation to join everything except the Ohio Society. Because it seems that the Ohio Society is very exclusive,

because you have to be born in Ohio. But he got Henry an invitation to join the Pennsylvania Society, which is not so exclusive, because all you have to be born at is Pennsylvania. Well, when Henry started to receive all of those invitations, it made him feel very good to think that his prominence had reached New York. So he decided to go right up there and join everything that asked him. So of course he had to take me, too. And when I got back into the Ritz again,

after all of the home life I had been through, I almost believe I heaved a sigh. Well, the very first evening that Henry was in New York, he went to a large banquet and sat at the same table as Amy Bottsfield Rand, who is very intellectual because she went to China once and can hardly bear anything since she came back. And Percy Gilchrist Saunders, who is very famous for thinking that spelling ought to sound like what it resembles. And Chester Wentworth Peabody,

who spends all of his time watching squirrels and writes down every move they make. And meeting all of those famous people that New York is practically full of gave Henry new thoughts and opened up things. Because after Henry held a conversation with them, he was quite surprised to find out that he was just as full of brains as they were. But that is what always happens to people who have an inferior complex about coming to New York. Because no matter how inferior your complex is,

you can always meet very prominent people in New York who have not got any more brains than you have. And when Henry came home from the banquet, I slipped into his bedroom in my pink negligee and I finally got him to promise that we would live in New York where our life could be more mental. And so I gave Henry a subscription to the Book of the Month Club that tells you the book you have to read every month to make your individuality stand out. And it really is remarkable because it makes

over 50,000 people read the same book every month. So then we took an apartment in the newest apartment house on Park Avenue and I got nothing but the oldest antiques to go in it with everything in antique Italian and one of the oldest Rembrandts. I really almost have to smile because I used to think that every interior ought to be decorated in pink satin with quite a lot of Mary Bow. But after a girl has learned art, she can hardly stand anything except old Italian.

So instead of chiffon negliges with ostrich feather trimmings like I always used to wear, I wear nothing but antique Italian brocade with a long train made out of some middle-age embroidered pope's robe with all the faded colorings. And when we did the nursery for Little Mouse, the interior decorator found a real genuine Italian cradle of one of the oldest centuries. But Dorothy said that the old Italian's idea when he made it was that if the baby cashed in,

the cradle was just the right shape for the funeral. And Dorothy was afraid that any baby that had to sleep in it would grow up with acute melancholy. I mean sometimes Dorothy does have quite a good idea because it did turn out that an antique Italian apartment becomes quite depressing, especially on a rainy day. So I have Dorothy practically stay with us to keep from becoming too depressed in such an antique Italian environment. Well, the day finally came when

the Little Mouse was due to arrive and Dorothy and I were having luncheon at the Ritz. And after luncheon, Dorothy was going shopping and then she was going to an informal tea, so she invited me to accompany her. Well, I am really fond of nothing as much as shopping and even informal teas, but I finally decided I had better not go, so I went home instead. And when they put Little Mouse in my arms that afternoon, I felt repaid for giving up everything.

But when I called up Dorothy at the tea party to break the news that it turned out to be a boy, well nothing touches people's hearts so much as a girl they are acquainted with going through the valley of the shadow and coming out with a baby. So everybody at the tea wanted to come right over. And I sat up in bed in my early Italian bed jacket and we held quite a party to welcome the Little Mouse. I mean people kept coming in and coming in

and I had to keep telephoning to Rubens to send over more sandwiches. But the nurse would only give us a small glimpse of the Little Mouse because noise and cigarette smoke are not good for little babies the day of their arrival. But after all, I was repaid for going through all of those pangs because Henry settled quite a large settlement on me. For nothing makes a husband become so sentimental in a financial way as the day he can call a girl little mother.

Well after it was all over, of course Henry wanted me to stay at home and be nothing else but a wife and mother. And I really did not mind so long as I had to stay in bed anyway. But when I got out of bed, my brains started in to become active and I began to think about a career. But I decided not to produce any more cinemas because stronger than sex went right over people's heads and became a financial failure. So I decided to become literary instead and spend

more time in some literary environment outside the home. End of chapter 1