“Yes.”
“Is your mistress inside?”
“No.”
“Will she be back soon?”
“I don’t think so.”
The reporter sat down. “Can you tell me something confidential about your mistress?” he went on.
“Madame Curie has only one message that she likes to be given to reporters,” said Marie Curie. “That is: be less curious about people and more curious about ideas.”
CURLEY, James Michael (1874–1958), Boston politician.
1 In 1946 “the Purple Shamrock,” as Curley was often called, managed to get reelected as mayor of Boston, only to find himself facing fraud charges and appearing in the dock. Convicted, the new mayor was obliged to fulfill his duties from a prison cell. This was clearly inconvenient, so he sent a demand to the court for his release on the grounds that he was suffering from twelve potentially fatal illnesses. Summoned before the court (wearing a shirt three times too large for him), the former governor of Massachusetts was asked to name one of his twelve illnesses. “An imminent cerebral hemorrhage,” the mayor declared. He was not released.
CURRAN, John Philpot (1750–1817), Irish lawyer and judge.
1 Curran detested all those who had voted for the union of Ireland with the rest of Britain. One day as he was in the part of Dublin near the disused Parliament Building, he was accosted by one of the pro-union peers who happened to remark on the building’s present uselessness and how he disliked the sight of it. “No wonder, my lord,” said Curran. “I never heard of a murderer who was not afraid of a ghost.”
2 One of the high court judges had a dog he occasionally brought into the courtroom. During a trial in which Curran was expounding a particularly involved argument, the judge, perhaps intending to indicate disregard of Curran’s case, bent down and began ostentatiously to pet the dog. Curran stopped. The judge looked up inquiringly. “I beg pardon, my lord,” said Curran. “I thought your lordships were in consultation.”
3 During Curran’s last illness, his doctor, paying an early morning call, observed that he was coughing with difficulty. “That is surprising,” retorted Curran, “for I have been practicing all night.”
CURTIZ, Michael (1888–1962), Hungarian-born US film director.
1 During the filming of The Charge of the Light Brigade, Curtiz directed the release of a hundred riderless chargers by ordering, “Bring on the empty horses.” David Niven and Errol Flynn, the stars of the film, doubled up with laughter. Curtiz saw them and yelled, “You and your stinking language! You think I know fuck nothing. Well, let me tell you, I know fuck all!”
2 Curtiz, always keen on realism, had extras throw authentic spears at Errol Flynn during a characteristic scene of derring-do. The star, dodging the hail of lethal weapons, felt the stress of real peril and started across the set after Curtiz. “Lunch!” yelled Curtiz, beating a hasty retreat.
CUSHMAN, Charlotte (1816–76), US stage actress.
1 Charlotte Cushman’s final appearance on the New York stage was an emotional occasion with presentations, speeches, a torchlit parade, and finally a huge display of fireworks organized by the theater’s business representative, Joseph H. Tooker, who was also one of the Tammany Hall stalwarts. The finale of the fireworks display was a huge portrait bust. “Who’s that?” asked Miss Cushman. “Shakespeare,” replied Mr. Tooker, and Miss Cushman’s delight knew no bounds. Actually it was a gigantic head of Boss Tweed, left over from a Tammany Hall festivity.
CUVIER, Georges Léopold, Baron (1769–1832), French zoologist.
1 Cuvier’s outstanding achievement resulted from his ability to reconstruct whole skeletons from fragmentary remains through his understanding of the way in which any particular feature entailed the presence or absence of other characteristics. This logical approach brought no little discomfiture to a group of students bent upon a practical joke. They broke into Cuvier’s rooms in the middle of the night, and one, dressed in a devil’s outfit with horns, tail, and hoofed feet, approached his bed, intoning, “Cuvier, I have come to eat you!” Cuvier woke up, gave him a single glance, and announced, “All animals with horns and hooves are herbivorous. You won’t eat me.” Then he promptly went back to sleep.
CYRUS II [Cyrus the Great] (d. 529 BC), king of Persia and founder of the Achaemenian Empire.
1 On one occasion, Cyrus reprimanded his son, Cambyses, for his arrogant behavior and rudeness. Like many fathers before and since, Cyrus told his son that he would never have spoken to his own father in the way that Cambyses spoke to him. “But you were the son of a nobody,” replied Cambyses, “whereas I am the son of Cyrus the Great.”
D
DAHN, Felix (1834–1912), German jurist and historian.
1 After a lecture in Hamburg, Dahn was invited to be the guest of honor at a dinner. He declined, giving as his reason that he had once spent six weeks in Hamburg doing nothing but sleeping and drinking; he did not want to repeat this time-wasting experience. His host, troubled, asked him when this had happened. “During the first six weeks of my life,” was the answer.
DALE, Valentine (d. 1589), British diplomat.
1 When his employment in Flanders was first proposed, Dale was told by Queen Elizabeth that he would receive 20 shillings a day expenses. “Then, madam, I shall spend nineteen shillings a day,” he said. “What will you do with the odd shilling?” inquired the queen. “I will reserve that for my wife and children,” replied Dale. Elizabeth took the hint and increased the allowance.
DALI, Salvador (1904–89), Spanish surrealist painter.
1 (Luis Buñuel told this story:)
“As a young man [Dali] was totally asexual….Of course he’s seduced many….But these seductions usually entailed stripping [American heiresses] in his apartment, frying up a couple of eggs, putting them on the women’s shoulders and without a word showing them to the door.”
2 (Dali was staying in the same New York hotel as the Igor Stravinskys. One day as they were walking down a corridor Dali suddenly appeared before them carrying a small silver bell. Stravinsky recounted the episode to a friend.)
“ ‘It was the little silver bell carried before the priest when he goes through the street to bring the viaticum to a dying person,’ said Stravinsky.
“He paused and greeted Dali, who replied, ‘Bonjour, Igor, bonjour, Madame,’ and then stood waiting. … It was in the period when Dali wore waxed spikes of mustache which reached to the corners of his eyes. ‘But I said nothing, and Vera said nothing, we smiled très doucement, and started to go by.’
“At that Dali rang his little silver bell.
“ ‘What is your little silver bell doing there?’ asked Stravinsky.
“ ‘I carry it and I ring it,’ replied Dali, and Stravinsky imitated him, ‘so people will see my mustaches.’ ”
3 Dali went into a New York bookstore one day and asked for a copy of his Secret Life of Salvador Dali. The young clerk, instantly recognizing his distinguished customer, fetched the book and began to wrap it up.
“Have you read it?” asked the artist.
“No, I’m afraid not,” replied the young man, handing over the package.
“Take it,” said Dali magnanimously, pushing the book back across the counter. “It is my gift to you. Would you like me to autograph it for you?” The clerk eagerly tore open the package and handed the artist a pen.
Only after Dali had left the store did the young man, gazing at the treasured autograph, realize that the artist had omitted one important detail. He had neglected to pay for the book.
4 Dali had bought a castle in Spain for his wife, Gala. In one of the rooms there was a rather obtrusive radiator, and Gala asked her husband if he would paint a screen for it. Dali obliged with what he later called “Le more realistic of my paintings” — a picture of the radiator itself.
5 A female admirer asked Dali, “Is it hard to paint a picture?”
“No,” replied the artist. “It’s either easy or impossible.”
/> 6 Dali once took his pet ocelot with him to a New York restaurant and tethered it to a leg of the table while he ordered coffee. A middle-aged lady walked past and looked at the animal in horror. “What’s that?” she cried. “It’s only a cat,” said Dali scathingly. “I’ve painted it over with an op-art design.” The woman, embarrassed by her initial reaction, took a closer look and sighed with relief. “I can see now that’s what it is,” she said. “At first I thought it was a real ocelot.”
7 When Dali was given his first raw oyster to try, he grimaced and refused to touch it, saying, “I’d as soon eat a piece of Mae West!”
DALTON, John (1766–1844), British chemist and the originator of modern atomic theory.
1 Dalton shunned the honors that the scientific world attempted to bestow upon him and refused to be presented to the king on the grounds that as a Quaker he could not wear the elaborate court dress etiquette then demanded. In 1832, however, he was presented with a doctor’s degree at Oxford, and since the scarlet doctoral robes were considered sufficiently formal dress it was arranged that Dalton should also be presented to King William IV on the same occasion. A hitch arose when it was pointed out that Quakers could not wear scarlet any more than they could wear court dress. Dalton’s colorblindness saved the day. The scarlet robes appeared to him as gray and he consented to wear them and meet the king.
DANA, Richard Henry (1815–82), US lawyer and author of the maritime classic Two Years Before the Mast.
1 In 1876 Dana was nominated for the post of minister to England. His campaigns on behalf of sailors and slaves and his attitude with respect to the legal aspects of the Civil War had made him objectionable to many senators. Senator Simon Cameron helped to quash the nomination with the remark, “One of those damn literary fellers.”
D’ANNUNZIO, Gabriele (1863–1938), Italian poet, dramatist, flying ace, and fascist politician.
1 Isadora Duncan told the story of D’Annun-zio’s adoption of a goldfish belonging to a hotel where he stayed. The poet would feed the goldfish, which he christened Adolphus, talk to it, and watch it swimming around its bowl. After his return to Italy, he telegraphed the hotel at frequent intervals asking: “How is my beloved Adolphus?” Eventually the goldfish sickened and died and the maître d’hôtel threw the corpse out. Almost immediately there arrived a telegram from D’An-nunzio: “Feel Adolphus is not well.” The maître d’hôtel cabled back: “Adolphus dead. Died last night.” D’Annunzio telegraphed: “Bury him in the garden; arrange his grave.” The maître d’hôtel took a sardine, wrapped it in silver paper, and buried it in the garden under a little cross inscribed: “Here lies Adolphus.” When D’Annunzio returned he asked to see the grave, laid flowers upon it, and stood over it, weeping.
2 At the end of one of his love affairs D’Annunzio sought refuge in a decaying castle in the Italian hills. The flutter that this arrival caused among the local peasantry and neighbors died down, winter set in, and the prospect seemed bleak and tedious. Suddenly the neighborhood was electrified by news of a lady in a flowing white cloak seen riding a white horse into the castle courtyard at midnight. She appeared again on subsequent nights, and speculation was rife about the poet’s new mistress and her secret visits to him. The explanation? It was D’Annunzio himself in disguise seeking to recreate the atmosphere of romantic mystery in which he loved to live.
DANTE ALIGHIERI (1265–1321), Italian poet, author of La divina commedia [The Divine Comedy], his vision of hell, purgatory, and paradise that is generally held to be the greatest medieval work of literature.
1 Dante had an uneasy relationship with his patron and protector, Can Grande della Scala, at whose court he lived for some time. Another member of Can Grande’s court was a conceited ignoramus who nonetheless delighted his master with jests and fooleries and was lavishly rewarded with gifts of money. One day this man said to Dante, “How is it that I, who am so ignorant and foolish, should be so rich and favored, while you, who are so learned and wise, should be a beggar?” Dante replied, “The reason is that you have found a lord who resembles you, and when I find one who resembles me, I shall no doubt be as rich as you are.”
2 Deeply immersed in meditation during a church service, Dante failed to kneel when the holy sacrament was elevated. His enemies at once hurried to the bishop and demanded that Dante be punished for his sacrilege. When Dante was brought before the bishop, he excused himself by saying, “If those who accuse me had had their eyes and minds on God, as I had, they too would have failed to notice events around them, and they most certainly would not have noticed what I was doing.”
DANTON, Georges Jacques (1759–94), French revolutionary leader.
1 At his trial before the revolutionary tribunal on the charge of having betrayed the people, Danton treated the accusations with haughty contempt. Condemned to death, he maintained on the guillotine his unflinching calm. “Show my head to the people,” he instructed the executioner. “It is worth it.”
DARIUS I (550-486 BC), king of Persia (521-486).
1 In about 512 BC, as Darius led his armies north of the Black Sea, the Scythians sent the Persian king a message comprising a mouse, a frog, a bird, and five arrows. Darius summoned his captains. “Our victory is assured,” he announced. “These arrows signify that the Scythians will lay down their arms; the mouse means the land of Scythia will be surrendered to us; the frog means that their rivers and lakes will also be ours; and the Scythian army will fly like a bird from our forces.” But a cunning adviser to the king put a different interpretation on the message. “The Scythians mean by these things that unless you turn into birds and fly away, or into frogs and hide in the waters, or into mice and burrow for safety in the ground, you will all be slain by the Scythian archers.”
Darius took counsel and decided that the second was the more likely interpretation. By beating a prudent retreat, he managed to extricate his army from the Scythian territory.
2 The tomb of Nitrocris, queen of Babylon, bore the following inscription: “If any king of Babylon after me should be short of money, he may open this tomb and take as much as he wants, but only if he really is in need of it.” Darius, although he had no genuine need for the money, thought it a shame that such riches should go to waste. He had the tomb opened, only to find no money there at all. Beside the body of the queen, however, was a second message: “If you had not been greedy of gold and fond of base gain, you would not have thought of ransacking graves of the departed.”
DARROW, Clarence Seward (1857–1938), US lawyer renowned for his conduct of labor litigation and murder cases.
1 Reporters would on occasion tease the energetic and hard-working Darrow about his disheveled appearance. Darrow retorted, “I go to a better tailor than any of you and pay more for my clothes. The only difference is that you probably don’t sleep in yours.”
2 A female client whose legal problems Darrow had solved burbled, “How can I ever show my appreciation, Mr. Darrow?”
“Ever since the Phoenicians invented money,” replied Darrow, “there has been only one answer to that question.”
3 In 1925 Darrow defended John T. Scopes of Tennessee, tried for teaching the theory of evolution. The prosecution attempted to discredit Darrow by labeling him an agnostic. He replied, “I do not consider it an insult but rather a compliment to be called an agnostic. I do not pretend to know where many ignorant men are sure.”
4 After a speaking engagement at a Women’s Club meeting, Darrow was cornered by a couple of ladies who wanted to discuss birth control. One asked him what he thought of birth control for the masses. “My dear lady,” replied Darrow, “whenever I hear people advocating birth control, I always remember that I was the fifth child.”
5 Darrow was being interviewed for a magazine article on the reasons given by prominent men for their success. “Most of the men I’ve spoken to so far attribute their success to hard work,” said the interviewer.
“I guess that applies to me, too,” said Darrow. “I was brough
t up on a farm. One very hot day I was distributing and packing down the hay which a stacker was constantly dumping on top of me. By noon I was completely exhausted. That afternoon I left the farm, never to return, and I haven’t done a day of hard work since.”
DARWIN, Charles Robert (1809–82), British naturalist, author of books including On the Origin of Species and The Descent of Man.
1 Darwin spent the eight years from 1846 to 1854 in a detailed study of barnacles. At one time there were no fewer than ten thousand barnacles in the house. His children accepted their presence as a part of normal life. One of Darwin’s sons, on a visit to a friend’s house, once inquired of the other boy where his father “did his barnacles.”
2 Emma Darwin, though a loving wife, did not share Darwin’s enthusiasm for his work, nor did she pretend to find his experiments interesting. One day she accompanied him to a scientific lecture, during the course of which he turned to her and said, “I am afraid this must be very wearisome for you.”
“Not more than all the rest,” she replied politely.
3 Charles Darwin was standing near the hippopotamus cage at the zoo one day when he overheard a little boy and girl talking. The hippopotamus had closed its eyes for a minute. “That bird’s dead,” said the little girl. “Come along.”
DARWIN, Erasmus (1731–1802), British poet and physician, grandfather of Charles Darwin.
1 Darwin was once offended by a young man’s asking him whether he did not find his stammer very inconvenient. “No, sir,” he replied. “It gives me time for reflection, and saves me from asking impertinent questions.”
Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes Page 29