rehearse, very much in the manner of an attorney representing a client in a damage suit, the story of Taub’s experience on the mountain-top; the effect on his nerves and sensibility; the traumatic shock he underwent when he imagined himself arrested bya policeman (“Cossacks we used to call them—you can all remember that”); Taub’s radical background; his alienation as an intellectual from the mass-culture of the drugstore and the radio serial. He then went on to describe Joe—a well-intentioned Babbitt, a Boy Scout still living in the escapades of the First War, a useful citizen perhaps, but unfitted for an environment of neurosis. Finally, the broader impact of Joe on the community: the target-practice; broken sleep; the danger to the children; the stove (admittedly an accident); Katy’s hair; her quarrel (if he was not being too personal) with her husband. He looked to Taub for further directives and, receiving none, sat down.
“The question!” cried Katy. “The question!” She had come prepared for a battle, and could not refrain from pressing her advantage.
Sidney looked at Taub and both shrugged their shoulders. There was a short silence. Sidney coughed deferentially. “I think Mac has something to say.” “Well,” said Mac, rising to his feet, “I did have a few things on my mind, but you boys …” and suddenly he began waving his arms as if in an uncontrollable fit and laughing, a high, flute-like sound interspersed with patches of helpless choking. “Oh, my God!” he cried. “Will!” Danny Furnas looked up and began to snicker also. In a moment, the room was convulsed. Harold’s giggle soon could be heard, Haines’ deep, husky guffaw, and finally Will’s chuckle, beginning unwillingly and gradually mellowing, as a large foolish smile wreathed his irresolute features in a look ofthe utmost contentment, in which vanity, chagrin, and relief were indeterminately distributed. His cumbrous thighs spread apart, tightening his ill-fitting duck trousers at the crotch, his bare arms hanging at his sides, his polo-shirt gaping at the neck, he presented a boyish picture of a proud and gratified culprit; the real ingenuousness of his nature sprang into sudden prominence. This man of transparent secrets, caught, as it were red-handed, yielded himself pleasurably to the boisterous humor of his companions, like a small-town kid dragged struggling from his place of concealment during a game of hide-and-go-seek. Only his wife, Cynthia, was immune to the general merriment; she looked coldly down her straight nose at her fellow-Utopians, until she was quite certain that this was all in fun. Her ideas were rather rigid, like those of a royal duchess. She had a firm sense of her husband’s position, and she wished to be assured that there was nothing seditious in this laughter before giving it countenances.
“And Harold!” Macdougal cried, when he was able to articulate. “That speech!” He laughed again until the tears ran, yet appreciatively, without pettiness, as though paying tribute to a genuine though unconscious work of art. “A great ambulance-chaser was lost in you,” he declared, almost seriously, shaking his red head, and taking Harold by the arm to indicate the kindliness of his feelings. This risibility of Macdermott’s was the crowning and unexpected grace of his character; it was an élan vital , seemingly springingfrom nowhere, which buoyed him up and translated him into a realm of pure essences, beyond the pedantry of judgment. The targets of his satire could never truly dislike Macdermott, for they found themselves endowed by it with a larger and more fabulous life. Taub and Sidney, now, could not but feel that this laughter left them somehow in an improved position; it reconciled them, to their surprise, with themselves and with others, and permitted them to live down a humiliation whose causes they were reluctant to search for in the duller chambers of blame and excuse.
Sensible
“The question!” cried Katy. “The question!” She had come prepared for a battle, and could not refrain from pressing her advantage.
Sidney looked at Taub and both shrugged their shoulders. There was a short silence. Sidney coughed deferentially. “I think Mac has something to say.” “Well,” said Mac, rising to his feet, “I did have a few things on my mind, but you boys …” and suddenly he began waving his arms as if in an uncontrollable fit and laughing, a high, flute-like sound interspersed with patches of helpless choking. “Oh, my God!” he cried. “Will!” Danny Furnas looked up and began to snicker also. In a moment, the room was convulsed. Harold’s giggle soon could be heard, Haines’ deep, husky guffaw, and finally Will’s chuckle, beginning unwillingly and gradually mellowing, as a large foolish smile wreathed his irresolute features in a look ofthe utmost contentment, in which vanity, chagrin, and relief were indeterminately distributed. His cumbrous thighs spread apart, tightening his ill-fitting duck trousers at the crotch, his bare arms hanging at his sides, his polo-shirt gaping at the neck, he presented a boyish picture of a proud and gratified culprit; the real ingenuousness of his nature sprang into sudden prominence. This man of transparent secrets, caught, as it were red-handed, yielded himself pleasurably to the boisterous humor of his companions, like a small-town kid dragged struggling from his place of concealment during a game of hide-and-go-seek. Only his wife, Cynthia, was immune to the general merriment; she looked coldly down her straight nose at her fellow-Utopians, until she was quite certain that this was all in fun. Her ideas were rather rigid, like those of a royal duchess. She had a firm sense of her husband’s position, and she wished to be assured that there was nothing seditious in this laughter before giving it countenances.
“And Harold!” Macdougal cried, when he was able to articulate. “That speech!” He laughed again until the tears ran, yet appreciatively, without pettiness, as though paying tribute to a genuine though unconscious work of art. “A great ambulance-chaser was lost in you,” he declared, almost seriously, shaking his red head, and taking Harold by the arm to indicate the kindliness of his feelings. This risibility of Macdermott’s was the crowning and unexpected grace of his character; it was an élan vital , seemingly springingfrom nowhere, which buoyed him up and translated him into a realm of pure essences, beyond the pedantry of judgment. The targets of his satire could never truly dislike Macdermott, for they found themselves endowed by it with a larger and more fabulous life. Taub and Sidney, now, could not but feel that this laughter left them somehow in an improved position; it reconciled them, to their surprise, with themselves and with others, and permitted them to live down a humiliation whose causes they were reluctant to search for in the duller chambers of blame and excuse.
Sensible
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