Chapter 28 "Drunkard's Meaning"
I was involuntarily interested in him as he came out of the Desbrosas Street ferry.Judging by his demeanor, he is a well-informed man who is at home all over the world; when he came to New York, he looked like a lord who had returned to his own territory after a long absence.Despite his look, I judged that he had never set foot on the slippery cobbled streets of this crowded city before.
He was wearing a suit of baggy blue-brown clothes of an odd color, and an old-fashioned round Panama hat, which, instead of having fancy dimples on the top of the hat like fashionable people in the north, wore it at an angle. at an angle.Besides, his uncanny ugliness was not only repulsive but startling--his Lincolnesque frown and crooked features would leave you dumbstruck with wonder and horror.The monster that sprang out of the bottle that the fisherman caught was probably nothing more than this.His name, he told me afterwards, was Judson Tate; for convenience we shall call him by that name from now on.His green silk tie was fastened with a topaz ring, and he held a cane made of a shark's spine.
Judson Tate greeted me, asking me casually about the general conditions of the city's streets and hotels, as if he had lost track of some insignificant detail.I saw no reason to belittle the quiet hotel in the business district where I was staying; so, in the middle of the night, after we had eaten and drank (I paid for it), we decided to sit in the lounge of the hotel. Find a quiet corner to sit down and smoke.
Judson Tate seemed to have something to say to me.He already considered me a friend; and every time he finished a sentence, he shook his snuff-yellow hand, as thick as a ship's mate's, not six inches in front of my nose.I couldn't help wondering if he was just as abrupt when he treated strangers as enemies.
I felt a power emanating from this man when he spoke.His voice is like a moving instrument, played by him with cadenza.He doesn't want you to forget his ugliness; he flaunts it in front of you and makes it part of the charm of his words.If you close your eyes, you will at least follow the rat-catcher's flute to the walls of Hameln.You won't be childish enough to go any further.But let him put music to his words, and if it's not tasteful, the music is responsible.
"Women," said Judson Tate, "are mysterious."
My heart sank.I don't want to hear this commonplace--I don't want to hear this trite, dry, illogical, unjustifiable, long-disproved sophistry--ancient, boring, groundless, nonsense of women's own creation. Marginal, crippled and cunning lies; it is their mean, secret and deceitful means of justifying, promoting and enhancing their own charms and schemes, thereby suggesting, obfuscating, indoctrinating, propagating and intelligently disseminating to people of.
"Oh, that's it!" I said in plain English.
"Have you ever heard of Oratama?" he asked.
"Maybe I've heard of it," I replied. "I seem to recall that it was a ballerina - or a suburb - or the name of a perfume?"
"It's a little town on a foreign coast," said Judson Tate, "and you don't know anything about that country, and you can't possibly know it. It's ruled by a dictator, and revolutions and rebellions are frequent. It was there that a great drama of life was enacted, with Judson Tate, the ugliest man in America, and Fergus McMahan, the handsomest adventurer in history or fiction, and Ola Annabella Zamora, the beautiful daughter of the Mayor of Tamar. One more thing should be mentioned - there is no plant called chuchula anywhere in the world except the one I just mentioned The products of that country are precious woods, dyes, gold, rubber, ivory, and cocoa."
"I always thought South America didn't produce ivory," I said.
"Then you're wrong and wrong," Judson Tate said.His melodious voice was at least eight octaves wide, in cadences. "I didn't say that the country I was talking about was in South America—I must be careful, my dear friend; you know, I was involved in politics there. Even so, I played chess with the president of that country, chess piece Carved from the nasal bone of a tapir—a horned-hoofed animal native to the Andes—it looked exactly like fine ivory.
"I'm not going to tell you about animals, I'm telling you about romance and adventure, and about the temperament of a woman.
"For fifteen years I was the ruling force behind the supreme dictator of the republic, old Sancho Benavidez. You've seen his picture in the papers—a wimpy black fellow with a beard like The steel wire on the cylinder of a Swiss music box, holding in his right hand a roll of paper like the title page of a family tree Bible, this chocolate-colored ruler has always been the most conspicuous figure between the racial divide and the weft. It's hard to tell whether he'll end up in the Hall of Fame or ruined. At the time, if he wasn't president, he would have been called the Roosevelt of the South. He always served one or two terms and appointed a temporary successor After that, retire for another period.
"But Benavidez the Liberator didn't earn those reputations. It wasn't him. It was Judson Tate. Benavidez was nothing more than a puppet. I always told him when to Declare war, when to raise import taxes, when to wear frock coats. But I'm not telling you about such things. How did I become a powerful man? I'll tell you. Ever since Adam opened his eyes, Pushing away the smelling salt bottle and asking: 'What's the matter with me', I'm the best person who can make a sound.
"You see, too, that aside from photographs of early faith-healing Christians in New England, I'm probably the ugliest man you'll ever meet. So I learned at a young age that I had to make up for my looks with eloquence. I It does that. I always get what I want. As the man behind the old Benavides, I compare all the great behind-the-scenes figures in history, such as Talleyrand, Madame de Pompadour, and It's like the proposal of a minority in the Russian Duma. With my fluent tongue, I can tell whether the country is in debt or not, put the army to sleep on the battlefield, and with a few words reduce riots, riots, taxes, appropriations or Surplus, call the dogs of war or the doves of peace with a whistling like a bird. Beauty, epaulets, curly beards, and Greek faces are no match for me. Men shudder at the sight of me. But As soon as I start talking, within ten minutes anyone listening is captivated by me, unless they're suffering from terminal angina. Men and women, anyone who meets me is captivated by me. Well, you don't necessarily think women love Someone with my face?"
"Oh no, Mr. Tate," I said. "Ugly men who captivate women often grace history and overshadow fiction. I think—"
"I'm sorry," Judson Tate interrupted, "you don't understand me yet. Please listen to my story first."
"Fergus McMahan was a friend of mine in Kyoto. As for handsome, I admit he was the real thing. He had good features, fair curly hair, and smiling blue eyes. They said he looked like That statue is called the God of Speech and Eloquence in the Roman Museum. I think it's probably a German anarchist. The kind of people who always put on airs and talk forever.
"But Fergus has no eloquence. He has formed a concept since he was a child, thinking that as long as he is beautiful, he will benefit forever. Listening to him is like hearing water dripping on a tin plate next to the bed when you want to sleep. He and I have made friends—maybe it's because we're so different, don't you think? While I shave, Fergus takes a look at my weird Halloween mask. He seemed to be pleased with his face; and when I heard the faint guttural voice he called his talk, I felt content to be a silver-voiced ugliness too.
"Once I had to go to the seaside town of Oratama to sort out some political turmoil and chop off a few heads in customs and the military. Fergus, who holds the monopoly on ice and brimstone matches in the republic , Said that he would take a trip with me.
"Amidst the bells of the mules, we drove straight into Oratama, and the town was ours; just as the Long Island Sound was not the Japanese when Theodore Roosevelt was. Though I say 'we', Actually means 'I'. Anyone who has been to four countries, two seas, one bay and isthmus, and five islands has heard the name of Judson Tate. People call me the gentleman adventurer .The yellow paper has five columns, the monthly issue has 40,000 words (including lace decorations), and the New York Times has covered my news in the entirety of the twelfth page.If we say the welcome we received in Oratama Partly because of Fergus McMahan's good looks, I could eat the tags in my Panama hat. They festooned for me. I'm not jealous; I'm telling the truth. Town All the people above; they bowed down on the grass before me; for there was no dust in this town to bow down. They bowed down to Judson Tate. They knew I was the master behind Sancho Benavidez. To them Said, my sentence is more like any other person's words than all the raw books on the bookshelves of the East Aurora library. Who actually spends time on beauty - apply cold cream, massage the face (massage along the inner corner of the eye), use benzoin Tinctures to prevent sagging skin, electrotherapy to remove moles—for what purpose? To be beautiful. Oh, what a mistake! The beautician should pay attention to the throat. It is not warts but words that work, not powder but It’s conversation, not perfume but chat, not beauty but smooth talk—not photos but a phonograph. Let’s talk about serious things instead of gossiping.
"The local dignitaries put Fergus and me in the Centipede Club, a wooden house built on stilts by the sea. At high tide the sea is only nine inches from the house. All the town officials and people come Homage. Oh, not a homage to Hermes. They've heard of Judson Tate's fame.
"One afternoon, Fergus McMahan and I were sitting on the sea-facing corridor of the Centipede Hotel, talking over iced cachaça.
"'Judson,' said Fergus, 'Oratama has an angel.'
"'As long as the angel isn't Gabriel,' said I, 'why do you talk with the strain of hearing the trumpet of the Last Judgment?'
"'It's Miss Annabella Zamora,' said Fergus. 'She--she--she's pretty--mortal!'
"'Ha ha!' said I, laughing. 'The way you describe your lover sounds like a sentimental seed. You remind me of Faust's pursuit of Marguerite—that is, if he entered Still after her words under the trapdoor of the stage.'
"'Judson,' said Fergus, 'you know yourself as ugly as a rhinoceros. You can't possibly be interested in women. I'm crazy about Miss Annabella. That's why I'm telling you.'
"'Oh, of course,' I said. 'I know I look like that Aztec Indian idol in Jefferson County, Yucatan, guarding a hoard that doesn't exist. But there are ways to make up for it. Like, I am supreme in this country as far as the eye can see, and beyond. Besides, when I argue with people with accents, voices, gutturals, I am not limited to that low gramophone gibberish.'
"'Well,' said Fergus kindly, 'I know I'm no good at chatter or seriousness. That's why I'm asking you. I want you to help me.'
"'How can I help?' I asked.
"'I have bought Miss Annabelle's escort,' said Fergus, 'and her name is Francesca. Judson, you have acquired a reputation in this country as a great man and a hero.'
"'Exactly,' said I, 'and I deserve it.'
"'As for me,' said Fergus, 'I am the handsomest man between the North Pole and the South Pole.'
"'If you limit yourself to looks and geography,' said I, 'I agree with you entirely.'
"'You and I,' said Fergus, 'we should be able to get Miss Annabella Zamora. You know, the lady comes from an old Spanish family, and nothing but seeing her drive around in a carriage Aside from walking round the square, or catching a glimpse of her at the window of the fence in the evening, she is as unattainable as a star.'
"'For which of us?' I asked.
"'For me, of course,' said Fergus. 'You have never seen her. I told Francesca to take me for you, and have shown Annabella several times. She saw mine in the square. when I thought I was looking at Don Judson Tate, the nation's greatest hero, statesman, and romantic figure. Your name and my face combined in one person was irresistible to her. Of course she heard Been through your astonishing experience, and seen me. What more could a woman ask for?' said Fergus McMahan.
"'Couldn't she be less demanding?' I asked. 'How do we each play our part and share the results?'
"Fergus told me his plan.
"He said that the mayor Don Luis Zamora's house had a courtyard—a courtyard that opened onto the street. In one corner of the courtyard was the window of his daughter's room—it was dark as hell. Guess he wanted me to What to do? He knew I was eloquent, charming, and skilled, and let me go to the courtyard in the middle of the night, when I couldn't see this grimace, and wooed Miss Zamora on his behalf—on her behalf in the square Photographed, thought it was Don, Judson Tate's Handsome Man Courtship.
"Why don't I do it for him, for my friend Fergus McMahan? He's doing me a favor by asking me—an admission of his own weakness.
"'You lily-like, blond-haired, well-polished, speechless little log,' I said, 'I can help you. Arrange it, and take me out of her window at night, trilling in the moonlight To the accompaniment of , I spout, she's yours.'
"'Cover your face, Judd,' said Fergus. 'Do keep your face covered. You and I are life and death when it comes to relationships, but this is a big deal. I can talk myself You will not be invited. Seeing my face now, and hearing your words, I think she must have it.'
"'To your hand?' I asked.
"'Mine,' said Fergus.
"Well, Fergus and my chaperone Francesca worked out the details. One evening they had a long black cape with a high collar ready for me and took me to the house in the middle of the night. I stood at the courtyard window Down below, at last, I heard an angelic voice, soft and sweet, on the other side of the fence. I vaguely saw a figure in white clothes inside; Because it was a wet July night and the nights were chilly. I almost laughed out loud at the thought of stammering Fergus, and then I started talking.
"Well, sir, I talked to Miss Annabella for an hour. I said 'to her' because there was no 'talk to her' at all. She just said once in a while: 'Oh, sir.' or 'Oh, you ' or 'I know you don't mean that', and that sort of thing that women say when they're being courted just right. We both know English and Spanish; so I used both languages for my My friend Fergus went to win the lady's heart. If the window had no bars, I would do in one language. An hour later she sent me away and gave me a big red rose. When I got back I put It was passed on to Fergus.
"Every three or four evenings I went under Miss Annabelle's window on behalf of my friend for three weeks. At last she admitted that her heart belonged to me, and said that she drove every afternoon. Saw me when I went to the square. She saw Fergus, of course. But it was my talk that won her heart. Imagine if Fergus had gone off by himself to stay in the dark. See, he doesn't say a word, what can that accomplish!
"The last night, she agreed to marry me—that is, to Fergus. She put her hand through the fence for me to kiss. I gave her a kiss and told Fergus the news.
"'That should be left to me,' said he.
"'That's going to be your job,' I said. 'Don't talk all the time, just kiss her. Later, when she thinks she's in love with you, she may not be able to tell the difference between real talk and your murmurs. the difference between.'
"Besides, I never saw Miss Annabella distinctly. The next day Fergus invited me to join him in the square to see the ranks of Oratama society figures that did not interest me. I went; boy As soon as the dogs and dogs saw my face, they fled to the banana groves and mangrove swamps.
"'Here she comes,' said Fergus, twirling his beard—'in white, and in a black horse-drawn cab.'
"When I saw it, I felt the ground shake under my feet. For Judson Tate, Miss Annabelle Zamora was the most beautiful woman in the world, and from that moment on, the single most beautiful woman. I knew at a glance that I must be hers forever, and she must be mine forever. I thought of my face and almost fainted; then I remembered my other talents and stood firm again. Besides, I once replaced a The man had courted her for three weeks!
"Miss Annabella gave Fergus a tender long look from her black eyes as she drove slowly past, and that look was enough to send Judson Tate's soul into heaven as if on a rubber-wheeled cart. But she didn't look at me. And the handsome man just brushed his curly hair beside me, laughing and swaggering like a prodigal son.
"'What do you think of her, Judson?' asked Fergus triumphantly.
"'That's it.' I said. 'She's going to be Mrs. Judson Tate. I never do anything wrong to a friend. So say it first.'
"I think Fergus is laughing himself out.
"'Ah, ah, ah,' said he, 'you ugly creature! You are charmed, too, aren't you? Excellent! But you are too late. Francesca told me that Annabelle was not Talk about nothing but me. Of course, I'm very grateful to you for talking to her in the evening. But you know, I think I'd do well if I went myself.'
"'Mrs. Judson Tate,' said I. 'Don't forget the title. You use my tongue to match your beauty, boy. You can't lend me your beauty; but hereafter my tongue is myself That's it. Remember 'Mrs. Judson Tate,' which will be printed on the two-by-three-and-a-half-inch business card. That's what it is.'
"'Okay,' said Fergus, laughing again. 'I spoke to her mayor's father, and he agreed. Tomorrow night, he's giving a reception dance in his new warehouse. If you can dance, Judd, I want you to meet the future Mrs. McMahan, too.'
"At the Zamora Mayor's ball the next evening, when the music was playing at its loudest, Judson Tate walked in. He wore a new linen suit and looked like the greatest man in the country , in fact it is.
"Some of the musicians saw my face and immediately played out of tune. One or two of the most timid ladies couldn't help screaming. But the mayor rushed over, bowed to the ground, and almost used his forehead Wiped the dust off my shoes. A pretty face wouldn't attract so much attention.
"'Mr. Zamora,' said I, 'I have long heard of your daughter's beauty. I wish very much to have the honor of meeting her.'
"There were about half a dozen wicker chairs covered in pink against the walls. Miss Annabella sat in a rocking chair, dressed in calico and red slippers, with beads and fireflies in her hair. Fergus was at the bottom of the room. On the other end, he was trying to get rid of the entanglement of two brown and one chocolate-colored girls.
"The mayor took me up to Annabella and introduced me. When she caught sight of my face, she was so startled that the fan dropped from her hand, and the rocking chair nearly turned over. I'm used to things like that.
"I sat down next to her and started talking. She froze when she heard my voice, her eyes were as big as avocados. She couldn't match my voice to my face. But I continued to use the C was talking in the tune that is reserved for women; and before long she was sitting quietly in her chair, with a kind of trance in her eyes. She was slowly getting the hang of it. She had heard about Judson Tate thing, heard what a great man he was, and done great things; that was good for me. But when she found out that the great Judson was not the handsome man she was pointed out to be , naturally a little shocked. Then I switched to Spanish, which in some cases is better than English, and I can use it like a harp with a million strings, from C flat all the way to F high Half a tone. I use my voice to embody poetry, art, legend, flowers, and moonlight. I also recite a few lines from the poems I read to her at night at her window; her eyes suddenly glow softly, and I know She had recognized the voice of the mysterious man who had wooed her in the middle of the night.
"Anyway, I crushed Fergus McMahan. Ah, eloquence is a real art—that's undeniable. Beautiful words are beautiful. That's how the proverb should be changed.
"Miss Annabelle and I walked for a while in the lemon grove, and Fergus was waltzing morosely with the chocolate-colored girl. Before we went back, she gave me permission to go out in the yard at midnight the next day, after her Let's talk again under the window.
"Well, it went very well. Within a fortnight, Annabelle and I were engaged, and Fergus was done. Being a pretty guy, he took it lightly and told me he wasn't going to give it up.
"'Eloquence works in itself, Judson,' he said to me, 'though it never occurred to me to cultivate it before. But in your honor, it would be a fool's errand to hope to win a woman's heart with words. '
"I haven't gotten to the body of the story yet.
"One day, I rode a horse for a long time under the scorching sun, and before I could cool down, I took a cold shower in the lagoon by the town.
"After dark, I went to see Annabelle at the mayor's house. At that time, I went to see her every evening, and we planned to get married in a month. She was like a nightingale, an antelope, a Gengshen rose, her eyes Bright and soft, like two quarts of cream skimmed off the Milky Way. She didn't look frightened or disgusted at my ugliness. Honestly, I think what I saw was infinite tenderness , as she had looked at Fergus from the square.
"I sat down and began to say something that Annabelle loved to hear--I said she was a trust, and had a monopoly on the beauty of the world. I opened my mouth, and it was not the usual admiration and flattery that struck the heartstrings. His words were like the weak hiss of a baby with laryngitis. I couldn't speak a word, a syllable, or a clear sound. I accidentally took a bath and caught a cold and knocked down my throat.
"I sat for two hours, trying to give Annabelle some entertainment. She said something, too, but it was vain and bland. What I tried to achieve was the voice of speech, just the kind that clams sing at low tide' Life in the Sea'. Annabelle's eyes didn't seem to look at me as often as usual. I couldn't seduce her ears. We looked at some pictures, and she played the guitar occasionally, very badly. When I left, she was indifferent—absent, to say the least.
"It went on for five nights.
"On the sixth day she ran off with Fergus McMahan.
"It is said that they fled to Berisse in a yacht, and they have been away for eight hours. I followed in a launch from the Revenue Department.
"Before I got on the ship, I went to the pharmacy of old Manuel Iquito, a half-Indian pharmacist. I couldn't speak, so I pointed to my throat and made a sound like a tube leaking. He I yawned. According to local custom, it took an hour for him to pay me any attention. I leaned across the counter, grabbed his throat, and pointed to my own. He yawned again and put the A vial of black potion was in my hand.
"'Take a spoonful every two hours,' he said.
"I dropped a dollar and went to the launch.
"I made it to Belize Harbor behind Annabelle's and Fergus' yacht, only thirteen seconds behind them. Their sampan was just paddling toward shore when mine was lowered. I I wanted to tell the sailors to row faster, but the sound disappeared in my throat before I could make it. I remembered the old Iquito's potion, and quickly took out the bottle and took a sip.
"Both sampans landed at the same time. I walked straight up to Annabella and Fergus. Her eyes rested on me for a moment; then she turned and looked at Fergus with affection and confidence. I know I can't speak, but I can't help it. All my hopes are in words. In terms of beauty, I can't stand next to Fergus and compare with him. My throat and epiglottis are pure Out of automaticity, I want to say what I want to say in my heart.
"To my astonishment and delight, my words came out in a torrent of clarity, resounding, mellow, full of force and pent-up emotion.
"'Miss Annabelle,' said I, 'may I have a moment with you alone?'
"You do not want to hear the details of that incident, do you? Thank you. I have returned to my old eloquence. I took her under a coconut tree and added to her the old charm of speech.
"'Judson,' she said, 'while you talk to me, I can't hear anything else—see nothing—I don't see anything or anybody in the world.'
"'Well, that's pretty much the end of the story. Annabelle followed me in the motorboat back to Oratama. I never heard from Fergus, never saw him again. Annabelle became the present Mrs. Judson Tate. Does my story bore you?'"
"No." I said. "I've always been interested in the study of psychology. The human mind—especially the female mind—is a wonderful thing to study."
"Not bad," Judson Tate said. "The same goes for the human trachea and bronchi. And the throat. Have you ever studied the trachea?"
"Never. Your story interests me. May I ask Mrs. Tate how she is and where she is?"
"Oh, sure," said Judson Tate. "We live on Bergen Road, Jersey City. The weather in Oratama isn't right for Mrs. Tate. I don't think you've ever dissected the epiglottis arytenoid, have you?"
"No," I said, "I'm not a surgeon."
"I'm sorry," said Judson Tate, "but every man should know enough anatomy and medicine to preserve his health. Sudden colds may cause bronchitis, or inflammation of the alveoli, which seriously affects the organs of speech. .”
"Perhaps so," I said impatiently, "but that has nothing to do with what we've just been talking about. As for the strangeness of women's feelings, I—"
"Yeah, yeah," put in Judson Tate, "they're special. But I'll tell you this: I got it from old Manuel Iguito when I got back to Oratama. What's in the potion he made for my deafness. I told you how fast it works. His potion is made from the chuchula plant. Hey, look."
Judson Tate pulled an oval white cardboard box from his pocket.
"This is the best medicine in the world," he said, "specially for coughs, colds, loss of voice, or bronchial inflammation. The ingredients are printed on the box. Each tablet contains 2 jelly of licorice, 1/10 jelly of tolu balm, and a large 1/20 drop of fennel oil, 1/60 drop of pine distilled oil, 1/60 drop of Piper Cubeba oleoresin, 1/10 drop of chuchula extract.”
"I have come to New York," continued Judson Tate, "in order to form a company for the distribution of this all-time great throat medicine. At present I am only promoting it on a small scale. I have here a box of four dozen lozenges, It's only fifty cents. If you get--"
I stood up and walked away without a word.I strolled slowly to the little park near the hotel, leaving Judson Tate alone with a good conscience.I was very unhappy.He slowly fed me a story that I might capitalize on.There is a breath of life in it, and some structure, if it is handled properly, it can be released.It turned out to be a commercial pill coated with sugar.The worst part is I can't sell it.The advertising department and accounting office will look down on me.And it does not qualify as a literary work at all.So I sat on a park chair with other frustrated people, my eyelids gradually drooping.
I went back to my room and, as usual, read for an hour the stories in my favorite magazines.It's about getting my mind back to the art.
I read a story and threw the magazines on the floor sadly.Every writer without exception couldn't comfort my soul, but just briskly wrote about a particular make of car, as if suppressing the spark plug of his own genius.
When I threw away the last magazine, I pulled myself together.
"If the reader can stand all these cars," I mused, "then of course they can stand Tate's Miraculous Chuchula Tracheitis Lozenges."
If you see this story published, you understand that business is always business, and if art is far ahead of business, business will catch up.
For the sake of the beginning and the end, I might as well add: chuchula is an herb you can't buy in a pharmacy.
Notes:
Notes: