Tales of Fantasy and Fact

by Brander Matthews

  A CONFIDENTIAL POSTSCRIPT

  It was pithily said by one of old that a bore is a man who insists upontalking about himself when you want to talk about yourself. There issome truth in the saying, no doubt; but surely it should not apply tothe relation of an author to his readers. So long, at least, as theyare holding his book in their hands, it is a fair inference that theydo not wish to talk about themselves just that moment; indeed, it isnot a violent hypothesis to suggest that perhaps they are then willingenough to have him talk about himself. For the egotistic garrulity ofthe author there is, in fact, no more fit occasion than in the finalpages of his book. At that stage of the game he may fairly enough counton the good humor of his readers, since those who might be dissatisfiedwith him would all have yielded to discouragement long before thepostscript was reached.

  The customary preface is not so pleasant a place for a confidentialchat as the unconventional postscript. The real value and the truepurpose of the preface is to serve as a telephone for the writer of thebook and to bear his message to the professional book-reviewers. On theother hand, only truly devoted readers will track the author to hislair in a distant postscript. While it might be presumptuous for him totalk about himself before the unknown and anonymous book-reviewers, hecannot but be rejoiced at the chance of a gossip with his old friends,the gentle readers.

  Perhaps the present author cannot drop into conversation more easilythan by here venturing upon the expression of a purely personalfeeling--his own enjoyment in the weaving of the unsubstantial webs ofimprobable adventure that fill the preceding pages. With an ironicsatisfaction was it that a writer who is not unaccustomed to be calleda mere realist here attempted fantasy, even though the results of hiseffort may reveal invention only and not imagination. It may even bethat it was memory (mother of the muses) rather than invention(daughter of necessity) which inspired the 'Primer of ImaginaryGeography.' I have an uneasy wonder whether I should ever have gone onthis voyage of discovery with Mynheer Vanderdecken, past the Bohemiawhich is a desert country by the sea, if I had not in my youth beenallowed to visit 'A Virtuoso's Collection'; and yet, to the best of myrecollection, it was no recalling of Hawthorne's tale, but a casualglance at the Carte du Pays de Tendre in a volume of Moliere, whichfirst set me upon collecting the material for an imaginary geography.

  In the second of these little fantasies the midnight wanderer sawcertain combats famous in all literature and certain dances. Where itwas possible use was made of the actual words of the great authors whohad described these combats and these dances, the descriptions beingcondensed sometimes and sometimes their rhythm being a little modifiedso that they should not be out of keeping with the more pedestrianprose by which they were accompanied. Thus, as it happens, the dancesof little Pearl and of Topsy could be set forth, fortunately, almost inthe very phrases of Hawthorne and of Mrs. Stowe, while I was forced todescribe as best I could myself the gyrations of the wife who lived in'A Doll's House' and of her remote predecessor as a "new woman," thedaughter of Herodias. The same method was followed in the writing ofthe third of these tales, although the authors then drawn upon weremost of them less well known; and the only quotation of any length wasthe one from Irving describing the mysterious deeds of the headlesshorseman.

  Now it chanced that the 'Dream-Gown of the Japanese Ambassador,'instead of appearing complete in one number of a magazine, as the twoearlier tales had done, was published in various daily newspapers inthree instalments. In the first of these divisions the returnedtraveller fell asleep and saw himself in the crystal ball; in thesecond he went through the rest of his borrowed adventures; and in thethird his friend awakened him and unravelled the mystery. When thesecond part appeared a clergyman who had read the 'Sketch-Book' (eventhough he had never heard of the 'Forty Seven Ronins,' or the'Shah-Nameh,' or the 'Custom of the Country') took his pen and sat downand wrote swiftly to a newspaper, declaring that this instalment of mytale had been "cribbed bodily, and almost _verbatim et literatim_,in one-third of its entire length, from the familiar 'Legend of SleepyHollow.'" He asked sarcastically if the copyright notice printed at thehead of my story was meant to apply also to the passages plagiarizedfrom Irving. He declared also that "it is unfortunate for literarypersons of the stamp of the author of 'Vignettes of Manhattan' thatthere still exist readers who do not forget what they have read that isworth remembering. Such readers are not to be imposed on by the mostskilful bunglers (_sic_) who endeavor to pass off as their own thework of greater men."

  The writer of this letter had given his address, Christ Church Rectory,----, N.J. (I suppress the name of the village for the sake of hisparishioners as I suppress the name of the man for the sake of hisfamily). Therefore I wrote to him at once, telling him that if he hadread the third and final instalment of my story with the same attentionhe had given to the second part he would understand why I was expectingto receive from him an apology for the letter he had sent to thenewspaper. In time there reached me this inadequate and disingenuousresponse, hardly worthy to be called even an apology for an apology:

  "In reply to your courteous communication, let me say that had I seen the close of your short story, I should have grasped the situation more fully, and should doubtless have refrained from giving it any special attention.

  "When one considers, however, the manner in which your copy was published by the paper, deferring the explanation until the appearance of the third instalment, it must be acknowledged that there was opportunity for surprise and criticism. The fault should have been found with the way in which the article was published, rather than with the story itself, that appearing at its conclusion a self-confessed mosaic of quotations. Needless to add that its author's aim to amuse, entertain, and instruct has been manifestly subserved.

  "Yours most sincerely,

  "---- ----"

  Of another tale ('Sixteen Years without a Birthday') I have nothing tosay--except to record a friend's remark after he had finished it, thathe had "read something very like it not long before in a newspaper;" soperhaps I may be permitted to declare that I had not read somethingvery like it anywhere, but had, to the best of my belief, "made it allup out of my own head." Nor need I say anything about the 'RivalGhosts'--except to note that it is here reprinted from an earliercollection of stories which has now for years been out of print.

  The last tale of all, the 'Twinkling of an Eye,' received the secondprize for the best detective story, offered by a newspapersyndicate--the first prize being taken by a story written by Miss MaryE. Wilkins and Mr. J. E. Chamberlain. The use of the camera as adetective agency had been suggested to me by a brief newspaperparagraph glanced at casually several years before. And I confess thatit was with not a little amusement that I employed this device, since Ihad then recently seen my 'Vignettes of Manhattan' criticized as being"photographic in method." Here again I had no reason to doubt theoriginality of my plot; and here once more was my confidence shattered,and I was forced to confess that fiction can never hope to keep aheadof fact.

  After the 'Twinkling of an Eye' was published in the newspapers whichhad joined in offering the prizes, it was printed again in one of thesmaller magazines. There it was read by a gentleman connected with ahardware house in Grand Rapids, who wrote to me, informing me that thestory I had laboriously pieced together had--in some of its details, atleast--been anticipated by real life more than a year before I sat downto write out my narrative. This gentleman has now kindly given mepermission to quote from his letter those passages which may be ofinterest to readers of the 'Twinkling of an Eye':

  It appears that the cash-drawer of the hardware store, in which smallchange was habitually left over night for use in the morning before thebanks open, was robbed three nights running, although only a fewdollars were taken at a time. "The large vault, in which are kept thefirm's papers, had not been tampered with, and the work was evidentlythat of some petty thief. The night-watchman was a trusted employee,and my father did not wish
to accuse him unjustly. And, besides, he didnot wish to warn the thief. So nothing was said to the watchman. Thenights on which the till had been tapped were Thursday, Friday, andSaturday. Father goes down to the store every Sunday morning for abouthalf an hour to open the mail, and it was then that he discovered theSaturday night theft. Directly after Sunday dinner, father went down tosee an electrical friend of his, who executed a plan which my fatherhad devised. The cash-drawer was situated in one corner of the office(quite a large one), in which both the wholesale and retail business istransacted. He placed a large detective camera in the corner oppositethe till, and beside it, and a little behind, a quantity of flash-lightpowder in a receptacle. This powder was connected by electric wireswith the till in such a manner, that when the drawer was opened thecircuit would be completed and the powder ignited. Everything worked toperfection. The office is always left dark at night, so the shutter ofthe camera could be left open without spoiling the film. The camera wasin place Sunday evening, but the thief stayed away. It was set again onMonday night, and that time we got him. A small wire was attached to aweight near the camera extending to the till. As the thief started toopen the drawer the weight made a slight noise. He glanced in thedirection of the noise, started, pulled the weight a little farther,and we had his picture. Detectives had already been working on thecase, and the thief was identified and arrested on the strength of theportrait. When he was informed that we had his picture, he made a fullconfession. He said that when the flash-light went off he nearlyfainted from fright."

  * * * * *

  After this experience I am tempted to give up all hope that I can everinvent anything which is not a fact, even before I make it up. I am nowprepared, therefore, to discover that I did really have an interviewwith Count Cagliostro, and also that I was actually an unwillingwitness at the wedding of the rival ghosts.

  (1896.)

  THE END