Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes

by Clifton Fadiman

2 John Randolph of Roanoke and Henry Clay were deadly rivals. On one occasion the two politicians found themselves walking toward each other on a footpath so narrow that they could not pass. “I never give way to scoundrels,” said Randolph, standing stock-still. “I always do,” said Clay, stepping off the curb.

  3 Jefferson’s vision of the westward expansion of America fired the imagination of the young Henry Clay. On his way home from Washington to Kentucky he stepped from the stagecoach, bent down, and put his ear to the ground. “What are you listening for?” inquired the driver. “I’m listening for the tread of unnumbered thousands of feet that will pass this way westward,” said Clay.

  4 “You don’t remember my name,” said a lady to Henry Clay. “Madam, I do not,” said Clay, bowing, “for when we last met, I was certain that your beauty and accomplishments would soon cause you to change it.”

  5 In about 1850 Clay observed in a speech, “I would rather be right than be President,” a sentiment not borne out in his own unsuccessful struggle to achieve the supreme political office. John C. Calhoun, who had been vice president in 1824, commented, “I guess it’s all right to be half right, and vice president.”

  6 Speaking at a meeting one day, Clay found himself struggling against a number of slaveowners who were trying to drown out his voice by hissing. “Gentlemen,” he cried, “that is the sound you hear when the waters of truth drop upon the fires of hell.”

  7 Clay was sitting outside the old National Hotel in Washington with Daniel Webster, then US senator from Massachusetts. Watching a man walk by with a pack of mules, Webster remarked, “Clay, there goes a number of your Kentucky constituents.”

  “They must be going up to Massachusetts to teach school,” commented Clay.

  CLEMENCEAU, Georges (1841–1929), French statesman, prime minister (1906–09, 1917–20), known as “the Tiger.”

  1 Clemenceau told the following story of himself, and it perhaps illuminates his diplomatic methods. On a tour in the East he took a liking to a statuette offered for sale by a dealer. The man said he could have it for only 75 rupees, “because it’s you.” Clemenceau offered 45 rupees. The bargaining went on, with Clemenceau firmly sticking to his 45-rupee offer. Eventually the dealer flung up his hands indignantly. “Impossible! I’d rather give it to you!” he exclaimed. “Done!” said Clemenceau, pocketing the statuette. “You are exceptionally kind and I thank you, but such a gift could only come from a friend. I hope you will not be insulted if I offer you a gift in return.” The bemused dealer said that he would not. “Here,” said Clemenceau, “are forty-five rupees for you to use in charitable works.” The dealer accepted the rupees and they parted on excellent terms.

  2 Clemenceau once awarded the Legion of Honor to a business magnate whose only claim was his large contribution to the Tiger’s political funds. Pinning on the decoration, Clemenceau said, “Sir, you wanted the Legion of Honor. Here it is. Now all you have to do is deserve it.”

  3 At a Paris railroad station on the way to one of his numerous duels, Clemenceau surprised his second by asking for a one-way ticket. “Isn’t that a little pessimistic?” asked the second. “Not at all,” replied Clemenceau. “I always use my opponent’s return ticket for the trip back.”

  4 Clemenceau fought a duel with his longtime political rival Paul Deschanel. Every time Clemenceau lunged, Deschanel retreated a little farther. Eventually Clemenceau shrugged, tucked his sword under his arm, and said, “Monsieur is leaving us.”

  5 When Clemenceau was appointed home secretary, he arrived punctually at the department to inspect his new offices and staff. As he and his aide walked around the building, flinging open door after door, they found every office empty. At last they entered a room to discover a staff member slumped over his desk, fast asleep. As the aide darted forward to rouse him, Clemenceau put out a restraining hand. “Don’t wake him,” he said. “He might leave.”

  6 A supporter rushed into Clemenceau’s office in great excitement, crying out, “Your son has just joined the Communist party.” Clemenceau looked up calmly. “Monsieur, my son is twenty-two years old. If he had not become a Communist at twenty-two I would have disowned him. If he is still a Communist at thirty I will do it then.”

  7 Clemenceau’s contrariness was invaluable in shaking France out of its torpor during World War I, but it was altogether less of an asset during the subsequent peace. This trait emerged even in trivial matters. Going into a grand garden party at Versailles, the bowler-hatted Clemenceau met the British foreign secretary, Lord Balfour, wearing a top hat. “They told me top hats would be worn,” said the British diplomat. “They told me too,” said Clemenceau.

  8 After Wilson’s departure from the Versailles conference following World War I, Clemenceau, on his way to a meeting with Colonel House, Wilson’s adviser, was fired on by a young anarchist, Emile Cottin. As Clemenceau’s car sped away, Cottin fired seven (some say eight) more shots. One hit Clemenceau near his heart. Cottin was apprehended and the death penalty demanded. Clemenceau intervened: “We have just won the most terrible war in history, yet here is a Frenchman who misses his target six times out of seven…. Of course the fellow must be punished for the careless use of a dangerous weapon and for poor marksmanship.” He recommended eight years in prison “with intensive training in a shooting gallery.”

  10 Clemenceau loathed flying and always avoided it whenever possible. Before one flight he was heard to admonish the pilot, “Fly very cautiously, very slowly, and very low.”

  CLEOPATRA (69–30 BC), queen of Egypt renowned for her beauty.

  1 The lover of Julius Caesar and Marc Anthony among others knew the end — not only of her reign as queen of Egypt but of her life — was near when Octavian’s invasion of her country produced Marc Anthony’s corpse. Octavian sent his emissary, P. Cornelius Dolabella, to tell Cleopatra that instead of being killed, she would be taken to Rome and exhibited to the people. Cleopatra bathed and, with several of her court ladies, enjoyed a final meal. When Cornelius and his soldiers arrived, they found the queen dead along with a lady-in-waiting; the other courtier lay dying on the floor. “Was this well done by your lady?” Cornelius asked angrily. In her final throes Cleopatra’s servant replied, “Exceedingly well, as became a descendant of a long line of kings.”

  CLEVELAND, Frances Folsom (1864–1947), wife of Grover Cleveland, 22d and 24th President of the United States.

  1 At a White House dinner given during one of the Cleveland terms of office a young European attaché was served a salad that included a worm. He was on the point of raising aprotest when he caught Mrs. Cleveland’s eye, fixed on him in a challenging stare. The attaché then proceeded to devour the salad, worm and all. Mrs. Cleveland smiled approvingly. “You will go far, young man,” she told him. Fifteen years later that same attaché returned as a full ambassador.

  CLEVELAND, [Stephen] Grover (1837–1908), US politician; 22d and 24th President of the United States (1885–89, 1893–97).

  1 Cleveland, though constantly at loggerheads with the Senate, got on better with the House of Representatives. A popular story circulating during his presidency concerned the night he was roused by his wife crying, “Wake up! I think there are burglars in the house.”

  “No, no, my dear,” said the President sleepily, “in the Senate maybe, but not in the House.”

  2 A reporter was pestering President Cleveland to make a statement on a major issue of foreign policy. “That, sir, is a matter of too great importance to discuss in a five-minute interview — now rapidly drawing to its close,” said Cleveland firmly.

  CLINTON, William Jefferson (1946–), US politician, 42d President of the United States (1993–2001).

  1 When hecklers interrupted a speech Clinton was giving in Denver one evening, he responded with a quote from Mark Twain: “Every dog needs a few fleas because they keep him from worrying so much about being a dog.”

  2 Ours is an inquisitive age, with little privacy afforded public figures. Clinton’s eating habits be
came a favorite focus of the media, which frequently published photos showing his weight gains and losses. Clinton had a sense of humor about his love of food, saying, “People say to me, ‘Like Harry Truman, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.’ That’s the only room in the house I don’t want to leave.”

  3 A favorite story of Clinton’s was about a man who saw a sign on a highway: “George Jones, Veterinarian-Taxidermist. Either way, you get your dog back.”

  4 After his election Clinton lunched with the publisher of the New York Times, Arthur Sulzberger, Jr., who told the new President, “The best way of describing our relationship with you is ‘tough love.’” “Well, just don’t forget the ‘love’ part,” laughed Clinton.

  5 About his relationship with reporters, Clinton once said, “Never pick a fight with people who buy ink by the barrel.”

  CLIVE, Robert, Baron Clive of Plassey (1725–74), British administrator in India.

  1 In polite eighteenth-century society, diners were called upon for “sentiments,” that is, epigrammatical observations or wishes expressed in the manner of roasts at the end of the meal. Clive’s used to be: “Alas and alack-aday!” (a lass and a lac — 100,000 rupees — a day).

  2 The opportunities for corruption on the part of British officials in India were astounding. When Clive was being cross-examined on this score during the parliamentary proceedings against him in 1773, he burst out, “By God, Mr. Chairman, at this moment I stand astonished at my own moderation.”

  CLURMAN, Harold (1901–80), US theatrical director and drama critic.

  1 With Lee Strasberg and Cheryl Crawford, Clurman was one of the directors of the Group Theatre, an influential theatrical force in the thirties. Out of it came the playwright Clifford Odets as well as a host of actors who later achieved fame on stage and screen. One of these, Stella Adler, married Clurman. Her affection was not alloyed by sentimentality. Robert Lewis, one of the youngest members of the Group, once asked her why Clurman continually studied his face, turning it from side to side, in the mirror. Stella Adler replied, “He’s trying to imagine how he’s going to look on that horse when he’s a statue in Central Park.”

  2 Robert Lewis, visiting Clurman in Hollywood, shared a bedroom with him. He noted with some alarm that throughout the night in his sleep Clurman would emit a variety of dramatic sounds, including those of clicking teeth, affection, and rage. Stella Adler reported that she once awakened him and suggested, “Harold, don’t sleep like a great man. Just sleep.”

  COBB, Irvin S[hrewsbury] (1876–1944), US humorist and writer.

  1 As a young reporter in New York, Cobb suffered from the ill humor of his boss at the World, Charles E. Chapin. Arriving for work one day, Cobb found that Chapin was home ill. “Nothing trivial, I trust,” commented Cobb.

  2 As a correspondent during World War I, Cobb was sent to Belgium to cover the German invasion. Traveling to the Belgian army headquarters by taxi, he and his three colleagues were captured by the Germans and questioned. The interrogation lasted throughout the night and well into the next day, and Cobb’s nervousness grew increasingly apparent. Finally he called out to the interrogating officer: “Sir, whether or not you intend to shoot us, will you at least grant us one request?” The German, a little surprised, asked, “What is that?” Replied Cobb: “Will you please tell the driver of our taxicab to stop the meter?”

  COCTEAU, Jean (1889–1963), French writer, artist, and occasional film director.

  1 Someone asked Cocteau what he would take if his house were on fire and he could remove only one thing. “I would take the fire,” replied Cocteau.

  2 Dissatisfied with one of his productions, Cocteau confided his disappointment to a group of his film students: “It’s my worst work.” One of his loyal disciples said, “Among us it’s generally understood that you aren’t its author.”

  3 Cocteau was once asked if he believed in luck. “Of course,” he replied. “How else do you explain the success of those you don’t like?”

  4 Cocteau’s publisher, Bernard Grasset, had put forward the view that publishers are more important than authors. “In that case,” retorted Cocteau, “perhaps you ought to imitate the film producers. Announce a BOOK BY GRASSET in big characters, and then, in tiny letters, ‘Words by Cocteau.’”

  5 When the subject of heaven and hell was broached in conversation one day, Cocteau politely declined to offer any opinion. “Excuse me for not answering,” he said. “I have friends in both places.”

  COHAN, George M. (1878–1942), US actor, songwriter, and theatrical producer.

  1 Cohan auditioned an actor for a role and finally dismissed him. As the door closed, Cohan said to one of his staff, “I hate that rat. Remind me never to hire him again unless we need him.”

  2 When the Actors’ Equity Association was officially organized in 1913, one of its foremost opponents was George M. Cohan. He ran a signed advertisement in the New York newspapers reading: “Before I ever do business with the Actors’ Equity, I will lose every dollar I have even if I have to run an elevator to make a living.” The next day a sign appeared hanging out of the office window of the Equity headquarters: “WANTED — ELEVATOR OPERATOR. GEORGE M. COHAN PREFERRED.”

  3 At the height of his success as a theatrical producer, Cohan was dining with his father at an expensive hotel. Listening to the violinist playing skillfully in the background during their meal, Cohan was reminded of the unsuccessful violin lessons of his childhood. “Say, Dad,” he remarked, “perhaps if I had given more attention to my violin lessons I might be playing here.”

  “Yes, you might,” replied his father. “But you wouldn’t be eating here.”

  4 Jim Moore, founder of a famous New York restaurant, had many friends in the theatrical world. As he grew older several of them died and were sorely missed by Moore. One Friday afternoon he made a pilgrimage to the graves of those departed friends, remonstrating with them for their thoughtlessness in dying. When he got to George M. Cohan’s grave he took out a parcel of fish and thumped it against the headstone. “In case you don’t know,” he shouted, “today’s Friday, and I just want you to see what you’re missing.”

  COHEN, Morris Raphael (1880–1947), US educator, born in Russia.

  1 At the end of an introductory course in philosophy, one of Cohen’s students complained, “Professor Cohen, you have knocked a hole in everything I’ve ever believed in, and you have given me nothing to take its place!”

  “Young lady,” replied the professor sternly, “you will recall that among the labors of Hercules he was required to clean out the Augean stables. He was not, let me point out, required to fill them.”

  COHN, Harry (1891–1958), US movie producer, head of Columbia studios.

  1 Though Harry Cohn was greatly disliked in Hollywood, there was a large turnout for his funeral. An observer remarked: “It only proves what they always say — give the public something they want to see and they’ll show up to see it.”

  2 Cohn’s brother Jack once suggested to Harry that they produce a biblical epic. “What do you know about the Bible?” cried Harry. “I’ll lay you fifty dollars you don’t even know the Lord’s Prayer.” After a moment’s thought, Jack began, “Now I lay me down to sleep …” Harry pulled $50 out of his pocket. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, handing the money to his brother. “I didn’t think you knew it.”

  3 Cohn announced to his staff one day that he was planning a trip to New York. “Take me with you, Mr. Cohn?” asked the screenwriter Norman Krasna. “You? What the hell do I need you for?” stormed Cohn. “You’ll need me, Mr. Cohn, because on trains you have to write out your order for your meals,” replied Krasna. “So what?” demanded Cohn. “So what?” replied the screenwriter. “You can’t write. You’ll starve to death!”

  COKE, Sir Edward (1552–1634), British lawyer and Chief Justice.

  1 In 1598 Coke (pronounced “cook”) married as his second wife, Lady Elizabeth Hatton, the widow of Sir William Hatton and gra
nddaughter of Lord Burghley. There was much speculation at the time as to why a lady with such grand connections should ally herself with a man of Coke’s plebeian origins. An anecdote preserved by John Aubrey suggests a reason. In bed with his new wife, Coke put his hand on her belly and felt a child stir. “What? Flesh in the pot?” he exclaimed. “Yes,” said the lady, “or else I would not have married a cook.”

  COLAVITO, Rocky (1933–), US baseball player.

  1 During a game with the Cleveland Indians, batter Moose Skowron hit a pitch into right field, where Colavito missed the catch, falling onto the ball instead. Looking wildly around him as he sat on the field, Colavito was unable to locate the ball — but the fans knew he was sitting right on it. Out from the dugout rushed manager Joe Gordon, who yelled, “Somebody tell him to get off the ball before he hatches it!”

  COLE, Dr. Harry (?1500–1580), British clergyman, Dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

  1 In 1558 Cole was given a commission to suppress the Protestants of Ireland. En route to Dublin, he stopped for the night at Chester, where he lodged with the mayor, to whom he showed his commission, boasting, “Here is what shall lash the heretics of Ireland.” The mayor’s wife, overhearing these words, feared for her brother, a Protestant living in Dublin. Seizing an opportunity when Cole’s back was turned, she opened the box, removed the commission, substituted a pack of playing cards, and resealed the box. The following day Cole went on his way unsuspecting.

  As soon as he landed in Ireland he went to a meeting of the Privy Council, where he announced his errand to the lord deputy. When the lord deputy opened the box, all he found was the pack of cards, with the knave lying uppermost. “Let us have another commission,” said he, “and in the meantime we will shuffle the cards.” So Cole was obliged to return to England, but before he could reach Ireland again with a fresh commission Queen Mary died and Elizabeth ascended the throne. It is said that Elizabeth gave the resourceful wife of the Chester mayor an annual pension for her part in preserving the Irish Protestants from persecution.