IV
IN WHICH SOCRATES ENCOUNTERS "NEW THOUGHT" AND PSYCHOLOGICAL HAIR
"When people have little to do they go back to childishness. They longfor novelty--new playthings, new adventures, new sensations, newfriends. So our upper classes are utterly restless. Every old pleasureis a slough of despond. The ladies have tried jewels, laces, crests,titled husbands, divorces, gambling, cocktails, cigarettes, and otherbranches of exhilaration. They have passed through the slums ofliterature and of the East Side of Gotham. The gentlemen have shownthem the way and smiled with amusement and gone on to greatertriumphs. To these people every old idea is 'bromide.' It bores them.They scoff at men 'who take themselves seriously.' In a word, Mosesand the Prophets are so much 'dope.' And they are excellent people whoreally want to make the world better, but the childish craze fornovelty is upon them. Mrs. Revere-Chalmers was one of this kind. Harrycame to me next day at my house and said:
"'By Jove! you know, it was my friend Mrs. R.-C. who wore the blacksquare. But she is really a charming woman--not at all a bad sort. Iwant you to know her better. She made me promise to bring you overto-morrow afternoon if you would come.'
"We went. It was a 'new-thought' tea--a deep, brain-racking,forefinger-on-the-brow function. You could see the thoughts of theladies and sometimes hear them as a 'professor' with long hair andsmiles of fathomless inspiration wrapped himself in obscurity andcalled unto them out of the depths. He was all depth. They gazed athis soulful eyes and plunged into deep thought, catching at straws,and he returned to New York by the next train and probably madeanother payment, on account, to his landlady. Tea and conversationfollowed his departure.
"I had observed that Mrs. Revere-Chalmers had undergone a singularchange of aspect, but failed to locate the point of difference until asister had said to her in a tone of honeyed deviltry:
"'My dear, you are growing younger--quite surely younger, and yourhair is so lovely and so--different! You know what I mean--it has theluster of youth, and the shade is adorable without a trace of gray init.'
"This last phrase was the point of the dagger, and Mrs. Chalmers feltit. Sure enough, her hair had changed its hue, and was undeniablyfuller and younger.
"Then our hostess gave out a confession which has made some historyand is fully qualified to make more. It is a curious fact that one whois abnormal enough to commit a crime is apt to have poor caution.
"'I have been taking lessons of the Professor, and have produced thishair by concentration,' said she. 'It is a creation of the new thoughtand so wonderful I could almost forgive one for not believing me.'
"'A gem of thought--a hair poem!' I could not help exclaiming. 'Did itcome all at once, in a flood of inspiration, or hair by hair?'
"'All at once,' she answered.
"I charged it and went on as if nothing great had happened.
"'Considered as a work of the imagination, it is wonderful, and shouldrank with the best of Shakespeare's,' I assured her. 'But it willsubject you to unsuspected perils, for your footstool will be theshrine of the hairless and you shall see the top of every bald headin America.'
"Another lady sprang to her assistance by telling how she hadextracted a pearl necklace from an unwilling husband who had said thathe couldn't afford it, by concentration. The new thought had fetchedhim.
"The noble unselfishness with which they had used this miraculous giftof the spirit appealed to Harry and to me.
"In that brilliant company was a slim woman of the armored cruisertype, who had come to Betsey one day and said:
"'You're spoiling your husband. You make too much of him. You don'tseem to know how to manage a husband, and the husbands of Pointvieware being ruined by your example. They expect too much of us. We womenhave got to stand together. Don't you read the _Female Gazette_?'
"'No--I have been waiting till I could get a rubber-plant and otheraccessories,' said Betsey.
"'Well, it may not be _en regle_, but it is full of good sense,' saidthe lady. 'I've brought an article with me that I wish you wouldread.'
"She left the article, and its title was 'How to Manage a Husband.' Itaverred that too much petting, too much indulgence, made a man selfishand conceited; that affection should be administered with scientificreserve. Men should be taught to wait on themselves, and all that.
"They called on me for remarks, and I said:
"'I am glad to have become acquainted with the power of concentration.I propose that we all quit work and begin to concentrate. Matter isonly a creation of spirit. Let us exercise our several sovereignspirits and try to turn out a better line of matter. Let us have fewerrocks and stones and more comforts. Sweat and toil are a greatmistake. Let us turn Delance's Hill into plum-pudding and the stonesthereof into caramels and its pond into tomato-soup. Why not? Theyhave no reality, no substance. They are nothing but thoughts--and ourthoughts, at that--and why shouldn't we change 'em? But somehow wecan't fetch it. According to the Professor, we have got into the habitof thinking in terms of rock, soil, and water, and we can't get overit. There are some few of us who stand for better things; but themajority keep thinking in the old rut, and we can't sway them. TheProfessor says that all we need is to get together and agree and thenconcentrate. But agreement doesn't seem to be necessary. You know thatthere was a time when everybody, after much concentration, agreed thatthe world was flat--everybody but one man. Now the world was stubborn.It wouldn't give up. It hung on to its roundness, and let the peoplethink what they pleased. They tried to flatten it with countless tonsof concentration, but it held its shape. The one man had his wayabout it. So don't be discouraged by an adverse majority on thisplum-pudding project. One lady has shown us a sample of concentratedhair, and it looks good to me. Why all this striving, all this troubleabout the problems of life and death, when the straight, broad way ofconcentration is open to us? Why shouldn't we have concentrated breadand meat and shoes and socks and silks.
"'Now the subject of concentration is by no means new. It has been asuccess for centuries. The late Dr. Guph tells in his memoirs of asingular race of people known as the Flub Dubs who once dwelt on thelost isle of Atlantis. They were the greatest concentrators that everlived. Every one thought that he was the greatest man in the world,and thought it so hard and so persistently that it came true--in away. Naturally they aimed high, and every man thought himself therightful king, and a strife arose over the crown, so that no onecould wear it and many were slain in a great tussle. And when theywere resting from their struggles one rose and said: "Kings of therealm, you are as the dust under my feet. I scorn you. A few minutesago I decided to reverse my concentrator and aim at a higher goal. Itwas easy of attainment. I have suddenly become the biggest fool onthis island and the humblest of all men."
"'The announcement was greeted with great applause, and within threeminutes his popularity had so enhanced that they put him on thethrone. Such was the power of truth. And all confessed and joined hisparty, and he was known as the wisest king of the Flub Dubs.
"'The moral that Dr. Guph adduces is this: You cannot make figs out ofthistles, and unregulated concentration leads to trouble.'
"Harry and I started for home in a deep silence.
"'Hell!' I exclaimed, presently.
"'And that reminds me that I feel like the king of the Flub Dubs,'said Harry.
"'Which indicates that you are likely to decline the office,' Iremarked.
"'It's serious business--this matter of finding a wife,' he declared.
"'What's the matter with Marie Benson?' I asked. 'There's a real womanand the best-looking girl in Connecticut.'
"'Charming girl!' he exclaimed. 'But, dear boy! she talks too much.'
"'That is a fault that could be remedied; and, after all, it's a kindof generosity. It's the very opposite of concentration.'
"'Ah--if she would only reform!' he said.
"'Leave that to me,' I answered, as he dropped me at my door."
'Charge It': Keeping Up With Harry Page 5