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typewriter this immortal chapter of my life…history。 Alexander was no
more confident of conquering Asia with the splendid army which his
father Philip had disciplined than I was of finding my mental house in
order and my thoughts obedient。 My mind had had a long vacation； and I
was now ing back to it in an hour that it looked not for me。 My
situation was similar to that of the master who went into a far country
and expected on his home ing to find everything as he left it。 But
returning he found his servants giving a party。 Confusion was rampant。
There was fiddling and dancing and the babble of many tongues； so that
the voice of the master could not be heard。 Though he shouted and beat
upon the gate； it remained closed。
So it was with me。 I sounded the trumpet loud and long； but the vassals
of thought would not rally to my standard。 Each had his arm round the
waist of a fair partner； and I know not what wild tunes 〃put life and
mettle into their heels。〃 There was nothing to do。 I looked about
helplessly upon my great retinue； and realized that it is not the
possession of a thing but the ability to use it which is of value。 I
settled back in my chair to watch the pageant。 It was rather pleasant
sitting there； 〃idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean；〃 watching
my own thoughts at play。 It was like thinking fine things to say without
taking the trouble to write them。 I felt like Alice in Wonderland when
she ran at full speed with the red queen and never passed anything or
got anywhere。
The merry frolic went on madly。 The dancers were all manner of thoughts。
There were sad thoughts and happy thoughts； thoughts suited to every
clime and weather； thoughts bearing the mark of every age and nation；
silly thoughts and wise thoughts； thoughts of people； of things； and of
nothing； good thoughts； impish thoughts； and large； gracious thoughts。
There they went swinging hand…in…hand in corkscrew fashion。 An antic
jester in green and gold led the dance。 The guests followed no order or
precedent。 No two thoughts were related to each other even by the
fortieth cousinship。 There was not so much as an international alliance
between them。 Each thought behaved like a newly created poet。
〃His mouth he could not ope；
But there flew out a trope。〃
Magical lyrics……oh； if I only had written them down！ Pell…mell they came
doy mind； this merry throng。 With
bacchanal song and shout they came； and eye hath not since beheld
confusion worse confounded。
Shut your eyes； and see them e……the knights and ladies of my revel。
Plumed and turbaned they e； clad in mail and silken broideries；
gentle maids in Quaker gray； gay princes in scarlet cloaks； coquettes
with roses in their hair； monks in cowls that might have covered the
tall Minster Tower； demure little girls hugging paper dolls； and
rollicking school…boys with ruddy morning faces； an absent…minded
professor carrying his shoes under his arms and looking wise； followed
by cronies； fairies； goblins； and all the troops just loosed from Noah's
storm…tossed ark。 They walked； they strutted； they soared； they swam；
and some came in through fire。 One sprite climbed up to the moon on a
ladder made of leaves and frozen dew…drops。 A peacock with a great
hooked bill flew in and out among the branches of a pomegranate…tree
pecking the rosy fruit。 He screamed so loud that Apollo turned in his
chariot of flame and from his burnished bow shot golden arrows at him。
This did not disturb the peacock in the least； for he spread his
gem…like wings and flourished his wonderful； fire…tipped tail in the
very face of the sun…god！ Then came Venus……an exact copy of my own
plaster cast……serene； calm…eyed； dancing 〃high and disposedly〃 like
Queen Elizabeth； surrounded by a troop of lovely Cupids mounted on
rose…tinted clouds； blown hither and thither by sweet winds； while all
around danced flowers and streams and queer little Japanese cherry…trees
in pots！ They were followed by jovial Pan with green hair and jewelled
sandals； and by his side……I could scarcely believe my eyes！……walked a
modest nun counting her beads。 At a little distance were seen three
dancers arm…in…arm； a lean； starved platitude； a rosy； dimpled joke； and
a steel…ribbed sermon on predestination。 Close upon them came a whole
string of Nights with wind…blown hair and Days with faggots on their
backs。 All at once I saw the ample figure of Life rise above the
whirling mass holding a naked child in one hand and in the other a
gleaming sword。 A bear crouched at her feet； and all about her swirled
and glowed a multitudinous host of tiny atoms which sang all together；
〃We are the will of God。〃 Atom wedded atom； and chemical married
chemical； and the cosmic dance went on in changing； changeless measure；
until my head sang like a buzz…saw。
Just as I was thinking I would leave this scene of phantoms and take a
stroll in the quiet groves of Slumber I noticed a motion near one of
the entrances to my enchanted palace。 It was evident from the whispering
and buzzing that went round that more celebrities had arrived。 The first
personage I saw was Homer； blind no more； leading by a golden chain the
white…beaked ships of the Achaians bobbing their heads and squawking
like so many white swans。 Plato and Mother Goose with the numerous
children of the shoe came next。 Simple Simon； Jill； and Jack who had had
his head mended； and the cat that fell into the cream……all these danced
in a giddy reel； while Plato solemnly discoursed on the laws of
Topsyturvy Land。 Then followed grim…visaged Calvin and 〃violet…crowned；
sweet…smiling Sappho〃 who danced a Schottische。 Aristophanes and Moliere
joined for a measure； both talking at once； Moliere in Greek and
Aristophanes in German。 I thought this odd； because it occurred to me
that German was a dead language before Aristophanes was born。
Bright…eyed Shelley brought in a fluttering lark which burst into the
song of Chaucer's chanticleer。 Henry Esmond gave his hand in a stately
minuet to Diana of the Crossways。 He evidently did not understand her
nieenth century wit； for he did not laugh。 Perhaps he had lost his
taste for clever women。 Anon Dante and Swedenborg came together
conversing earnestly about things remote and mystical。 Swedenborg said
it was very warm。 Dante replied that it might rain in the night。
Suddenly there was a great clamour； and I found that 〃The Battle of the
Books〃 had begun raging anew。 Two figures entered in lively dispute。 One
was dressed in plain homespun and the other wore a scholar's gown over a
suit of motley。 I gathered from their conversation that they were Cotton
Mather and William Shakspere。 Mather insisted that the witches in
〃Macbeth〃 should be caught and hanged。 Shakspere replied that the
witches had already suffered enough at the hands of mentators。 They
were pushed aside by the twelve knights of the Round Table； who marched
in bearing on a salver the goose that laid golden eggs。 〃The Pope's
Mule〃 and 〃The Golden Bull〃 had a bat of history and fiction such as
I had read of in books； but never before witnessed。 These little animals
were put to rout by a huge elephant which lumbered in with Rudyard
Kipling riding high on its trunk。 The elephant changed suddenly to 〃a
rakish craft。〃 （I do not know what a rakish craft is； but this was very
rakish and very crafty。） It must have been abandoned long ago by wild
pirates of the southern seas； for clinging to the rigging； and jovially
cheering as the ship went down； I made out a man with blazing eyes； clad
in a velveteen jacket。 As the ship disappeared from sight； Falstaff
rushed to the rescue of the lonely navigator……and stole his purse！ But
Miranda persuaded him to give it back。 Stevenson said； 〃Who steals my
purse steals trash。〃 Falstaff laughed and called this a good joke； as
good as any he had heard in his day。
This was the signal for a rushing swarm of quotations。 They surged to
and fro； an inchoate throng of half finished phrases； mutilated
sentences； parodied sentiments； and brilliant metaphors。 I could not
distinguish any phrases or ideas of my own making。 I saw a poor； ragged；
shrunken sentence that might have been mine