MacARTHUR, Douglas (1880–1964), US general.
1 (Alexander Woollcott tells this story about MacArthur in World War I.)
“As the sun came up … he might have been seen by his fellow officers (and he certainly was seen by the Germans) standing erect, adventurous, and oblivious on a painfully exposed parapet. One hand held his field glasses to his eyes, the other was clenched in excitement as the infantry just ahead charged through a wood. His adjutant — call him Smith, for the purpose of this story — stood at his elbow. Machine-gun bullets were hissing and hitting all around. A captain jumped up out of the trench and touched the general on the arm. ‘If I might suggest, sir,’ he said, ‘your position is dangerous. The machine guns are reaching here.’
“ ‘Eh, eh, what’s that? Oh, yes, quite right, quite right. Thank you. Smith’ — this with a glare at his adjutant — ‘get down in that trench at once.’”
2 When it became clear early in 1942 that Bataan, the last American foothold in the Philippines, would fall to the Japanese, President Roosevelt, in order to save MacArthur for tasks elsewhere, commanded him to leave the Philippines. As he left on March 11, MacArthur promised, “I shall return.”
3 (Eisenhower, who had been on MacArthur’s staff before World War II, called on his former commander in Tokyo. At the time, the names of both generals were being mentioned in connection with the presidency.)
“Eisenhower could not get a word in for three-quarters of an hour, while MacArthur reminisced about old times. Then Eisenhower interrupted to say, with emphasis and much elaboration, that he did not think that any military man should be president of the United States. His sincerity was manifest. But MacArthur cocked a wary eye at him and said, ‘That’s the way to play it, Ike.’ ”
MACAULAY, Thomas Babington, 1st Baron (1800–59), Scottish statesman and historian.
1 There is a story, of unknown origin, that bears on Macaulay’s fabulous memory. It seems that one day an acquaintance of his, calling on him, found the noble lord pacing up and down in his study, reciting, line after line, hundreds of alexandrines from some obscure French medieval epic romance. After listening patiently for some time, the visitor at last interrupted: “Why in God’s name, Macaulay, did you ever bother to memorize all that tedious nonsense?” Macaulay at once turned to him, saying, “Sir, do you not see that I am doing my best to forget it?”
2 Macaulay was known as a prodigious talker. After his return from India, Sydney Smith professed to notice an improvement. “His enemies might have said before that he talked rather too much; but now he has occasional flashes of silence that make his conversation perfectly delightful.”
3 As Macaulay was notoriously clumsy about shaving himself, his rooms were always scattered with fragments of strops and broken razors. On one occasion when he had injured a hand, he had to send for a barber to shave him. “What should I give you?” he asked, uncertain what fee would be expected. “Whatever you usually give the person who shaves you, sir,” replied the barber equably. “In that case I should give you a great gash on each cheek,” Macaulay observed.
4 At a political meeting in Macaulay’s Edinburgh constituency, he was standing on a balcony beside his opponent when he suffered the unpleasant experience of being hit by a dead cat thrown by a member of the audience. The man at once apologized, explaining that he had intended the cat for Macaulay’s opponent. “In that case,” said Macaulay, “I wish you had intended it for me and hit him.”
5 (In June 1850 huge queues formed to see the first living hippopotamus to be displayed at London Zoo. By this time Macaulay’s History of England had made him something of a celebrity too. Macaulay wrote to his friend Thomas Flower Ellis to tell him of what he described as “the proudest event of my life.”)
“Two damsels were just about to pass that doorway [to the hippopotamus’s quarters] when I was pointed out to them. ‘Mr. Macaulay!’ cried the lovely pair. ‘Is that Mr. Macaulay? Never mind the hippopotamus.’ And having paid a shilling to see Behemoth, they left him in the very moment at which he was about to display himself — but spare my modesty. I can wish for nothing more on earth.”
MACK, Connie (1862–1956), US baseball player and manager.
1 The manager of the Philadelphia A’s was in church one Sunday morning when an usher, holding the collection plate, leaned over and whispered, “Why did you sell Jimmy Foxx?” Mack whispered back, “For the same reason that you’re taking up this collection. I need the money.”
MacLAINE, Shirley (1934–), US actress.
1 After many years as an actress, MacLaine began to explore the paranormal world, writing several bestselling books about other dimensions and past lives she had led. Much of her public scoffed, including fellow actor Yves Montand, who said, “Shirley MacLaine — who does she think she isn’t?”
MACMAHON, Marie Edmé Patrice Maurice, Comte de (1808–93), French general and statesman; president (1873–79).
1 Visiting a field hospital one day, the marshal addressed a few words to a soldier who lay ill with a tropical fever. “Yes, that’s a nasty disease you’ve got there. You either die of it, or go crazy. I’ve been through it myself.”
MACMILLAN, [Maurice] Harold, 1st Earl of Stockton (1894–1986), British statesman and prime minister.
1 At the United Nations in September 1960, Macmillan was interrupted in the middle of his speech by Nikita Khrushchev, the Soviet premier, who had taken off his shoe and was banging on the table with it. Unperturbed, Macmillan simply remarked, “I’d like that translated, if I may.”
MacNEIL, Robert (1931–), Canadian author and public television journalist.
1 Upon receiving an award for his work promoting the integrity of the First Amendment, MacNeil commented on the present state and future of public television, saying, “Public television should be more than English people talking and animals mating, occasionally interrupted by English people mating and animals talking.”
MACREADY, William Charles (1793–1873), British actor.
1 Macready’s handwriting was notoriously difficult to decipher. When he wrote a complimentary letter of admission to a theater during one of his American tours, the recipient remarked that it looked every bit as illegible as a doctor’s prescription. He and a friend thereupon decided to take it along to the apothecary to see what he made of it. The young assistant took the piece of paper and with scarcely a glance at it began pulling down phials and jars to make a compound. After mixing a number of ingredients with great confidence, he seemed to come to an item that bothered him; he paused and puzzled over it and at last summoned his boss from the back of the shop. The older man studied the paper and then with a contemptuous snort at his assistant’s ignorance, pulled down another bottle and completed the mixture. Handing the result to his customers, he remarked with a smile, “A cough mixture, and a very good one. Fifty cents, if you please.”
2 Macready once directed a production of Hamlet in Norwich, playing the title role himself. His innovative ideas made him a number of enemies among the cast, notably the actor playing Claudius. On the opening night, having received his deathblow from Hamlet, Claudius staggered to center stage to die. Macready was incensed: he had made it quite clear at rehearsals that Claudius was to die upstage, leaving the center free for his own death scene. “Die further up the stage,” hissed the irate director. “Get up and die elsewhere.” The “dead” Claudius sat up and said, in tones heard by the entire audience, “Look here, Mr. Macready, you’ve had your way at rehearsals, but I’m king now, and I shall die just where I please.”
MADISON, Dolley (1768–1849), US wife of President James Madison (1809–17).
1 In 1812 the British army invaded Washington, burning much of the city. As the White House was ablaze, Dolley Madison fled the building, after having assured the safety of some of the furniture. She first went to the house of an acquaintance, asking for shelter, but was refused. The woman of the house barred the door, saying to her, “Your husband has got mine out fighting an
d, damn you, you shan’t stay in my house.”
MADISON, James (1751–1836), US statesman; 4th President of the United States (1809–17).
1 At the Constitutional Convention Madison was one of the most active speakers, and many wise provisions owe their origin to his foresight and learning. Apt to get carried away when addressing the Convention, he asked a friend to sit by him and tweak his coattails if he seemed to be getting overexcited. After a particularly impassioned speech he sat down, almost exhausted, and reproached his friend for not pulling at his coat. “I would as soon have laid a finger on the lightning,” said his friend.
MADONNA [CICCONE] (1958–), US singer and actress.
1 The immensely busy and visible singer was asked, at the height of her career, what was her ambition. “I have the same goal I’ve had ever since I was a girl,” was her response. “I want to rule the world.”
MAETERLINCK, Maurice (1862–1949), Belgian poet and dramatist.
1 Modern amenities were sometimes sparse in old French country houses at the end of the nineteenth century, but Maeterlinck was nonetheless pleased to accept an invitation for a prolonged stay in a remote château to enable him to relax and write in peace. Arriving while his hostess was out, he asked the maid to direct him to the bathroom. She led him down a corridor at the end of which was a huge, apparently solid, oak throne. From behind the contraption she pulled a large cloak and a face mask. “Here you are, monsieur,” she said. “You wear these so no one knows who is sitting here.” Maeterlinck thanked her and was well away from the château by the time his hostess returned.
2 Maeterlinck’s well-publicized romance with the French actress Georgette Leblanc came to a mysterious end after twenty years. The sixty-year-old writer then married a young girl of nineteen. He refused to speak to the press on the subject, but an enterprising young American reporter managed to secure an interview with him at his Mediterranean villa. She sent him a note bearing the following message: “I am an American writer in great difficulties. If I can do an interview on you for my paper I can pay my passage home, and all will be well. If not, my only alternative will be to commit suicide.” Even Maeterlinck could not reject such an appeal. The woman duly arrived for her interview, opened up her notebook, and began: “May I ask why you left Georgette Leblanc?” Maeterlinck glared at the reporter and snapped, “Go and commit suicide, madame.”
MAGRUDER, John B. (1810–71), US Confederate commander.
1 While Magruder was in command at York-town in 1861, he forbade soldiers to bring liquor into the camp. One day he noticed a certain Private Sharpe drinking from his canteen with a relish suggesting the canteen contained something more potent than water. Magruder, known to be fond of alcoholic refreshment, ordered Sharpe to let him have a drink of his “water.” Magruder took a draught, returned the canteen, and promptly promoted the terrified private to the rank of corporal. Some time later Magruder called for another drink, and this time returned the canteen with the words: “You are no longer Corporal Sharpe, sir; you are Sergeant Sharpe!” Sharpe realized he would merit his instant promotions as long as the liquor in his canteen lasted. Unfortunately, he had only attained the rank of lieutenant when the canteen was found to be empty. When Magruder next called for a drink, the disappointed Sharpe, having searched the camp in vain for further supplies, could only reply, “General, it is played out, and I am sorry for it; for if it had held out I’ll be damned if I would not have been a brigadier general before night!”
MAHAFFY, Sir John Pentland (1839–1919), Irish scholar.
1 Dr. Mahaffy was out shooting when another member of the party carelessly put some shot through the crown of his hat. He inspected the damage calmly. “Two inches lower, and you would have shot away ninety percent of the Greek in Ireland.”
2 A lady seeking to embroil Dr. Mahaffy in a feminist argument opened her attack with “You are a man. I am a woman. What is the essential difference between us?”
“Madame,” said Dr. Mahaffy urbanely, “I can’t conceive.”
MAHLER, Gustav (1860–1911), Austrian composer.
1 Mahler found the inspiration for much of his music in the beautiful scenery of the Austrian countryside. “Don’t bother looking at the view,” he once told a visitor to his country house. “I have already composed it.”
MAINTENON, Françoise d’Aubigné, Madame de (1635–1719), French noblewoman, second wife of Louis XIV.
1 Louis built a château at Marly as a country retreat. The central building, called the Sun, was flanked by twelve other buildings, each named for a sign of the zodiac and arranged six on either side of a pool of water. In this exquisite artificial pond swam Louis’s favorite carp, which boasted glamorous names like Golden Sun, Beautiful Mirror, the Dauphine, Topaz, and Dawn. To the eyes of a lady walking by the pond with Mme de Maintenon, the fish looked melancholy in the crystal-clear water, and she mentioned the fact to her companion. “The carp are like me,” said Mme de Maintenon. “They regret their native mud.” {Hence the French phrase “nostalgie de la boue.”}
2 Mme de Maintenon, an excellent conversationalist, could keep a company of witty and malicious courtiers charmed by her talk. Even the servants recognized her powers in this direction. At a private dinner when some culinary hitch had occurred, one of them whispered to her. “Madame, be pleased to tell another story. There is no roast today.”
MALHERBE, François de (1555–1628), French poet and critic.
1 Even on his deathbed Malherbe retained his passionate concern with purity of diction and style. As he lay dying, his confessor tried to encourage him with a fulsome description of the joys of paradise. Malherbe begged him to stop: “Your ungrammatical style is giving me a distaste for them.”
MALLARMÉ, Stéphane (1842–98), French Symbolist poet.
1 The picture dealer Ambroise Vollard was walking in the woods near Paris with a friend when they came upon a small gray-haired gentleman spearing pieces of paper and other litter with a nailed stick and putting them into a basket. “That’s Mallarmé,” said the friend, and going up to the poet asked him what on earth he was doing. “I have invited some Parisians to come to tea tomorrow,” Mallarmé explained, “so I am cleaning up the banquet hall.”
MALLORY, George Leigh (1886–1924), British mountaineer.
1 Mallory, a veteran of several Everest expeditions when he went on a lecture tour of the United States in 1923, was frequently asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest. He always gave the same answer: “Because it is there.”
MANKIEWICZ, Herman J. (1897–1953), US journalist and film scriptwriter.
1 After Mankiewicz had been out of a job for some time, his agent succeeded in getting him a post at the Columbia studio, with a warning to steer clear of Harry Cohn, head of the studio. For some weeks Mankiewicz obeyed, but the sound of laughter and talk from the executive dining room penetrated his office and finally proved too much for him. When the Columbia executives assembled one day, they found Mankiewicz seated at the end of the table. “I won’t say a word,” he promised. Cohn came in and immediately launched into an attack on a film he had seen the night before in his private projection room. Someone suggested he might feel otherwise if he had seen it with a public audience. Audience reaction made no difference to him, Cohn replied. “When I’m alone in a projection room I have a foolproof device for judging whether a picture is good or bad. If my fanny squirms, it’s bad. If my fanny doesn’t squirm, it’s good. It’s as simple as that.” The sudden silence was broken by Mankiewicz’s voice from the foot of the table: “Imagine — the whole world wired to Harry Cohn’s ass!”
2 Mankiewicz’s wife, Sara, had a difficult time with her husband’s drinking problem and the frequent interruptions to his career caused by his falling out with studio bosses. A friend whom he had not seen for a while asked Mankiewicz, “How’s Sara?”
Mankiewicz looked puzzled: “Sara? Who?”
“Sara. Your wife, Sara.”
“Ah, you mean Poor Sara.”
/> MANN, Thomas (1875–1955), German novelist, winner of the 1929 Novel Prize for Literature.
1 Mann was introduced to an American writer of some note who abased himself before the famous novelist, saying that he scarcely considered himself to be a writer in comparison with Mann. Mann answered him civilly, but afterward he remarked, “He has no right to make himself so small. He’s not that big.”
MANSART, François (1598–1666), French architect.
1 Louis XIV was walking with Mansart in the sun. The architect was bareheaded, as court etiquette demanded. Louis told him to put on his hat. To his courtiers, who expressed astonishment at the king’s condescension, he said, “I can make twenty dukes in a quarter of an hour, but it takes centuries to make a Mansart.”
MANSFIELD, William Murray, 1st Earl of (1705–93), British judge.
1 On one occasion an old woman, accused of being a witch, was brought before him. She was also charged with walking through the air. The judge listened attentively to all the evidence and then dismissed the accused woman. “My opinion,” he said, “is that this good woman should be suffered to return home, and whether she shall do this, walking on the ground or riding through the air, must be left entirely to her own pleasure, for there is nothing contrary to the laws of England in either.”
Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes Page 65