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PDF“Well, I declare!” tittered Elizabeth, as she read. “Isn’t that extraordinary? He’s got the three-name craze, too!”
“It’s perfectly ridiculous,” said Cleopatra. “But it’s fairer than Artemus Ward’s plan. Mozart gives notice of his intentions to charge you; but with Ward it’s different. He comes, and afterwards sends a bill for his fun. Why, only last week I got a ‘quarterly statement’ from him showing a charge against me of thirty-eight dollars for humorous remarks made to my guests at a little chafing-dish party I gave in honor of Balzac, and, worst of all, he had marked it ‘Please remit.’ Even Antony, when he wrote a sonnet to my eyebrow, wouldn’t let me have it until he had heard whether or not Boswell wanted it for publication in the Gossip. With Rubens giving chalk-talks for pay, Phidias doing ’Five-minute Masterpieces in Putty’ for suburban lyceums, and all the illustrious in other lines turning their genius to account through the entertainment bureaus, it’s impossible to have a salon now.”
“You are indeed right,” said Madame Recamier, sadly. “Those were palmy days when genius was satisfied with chicken salad and lemonade. I shall never forget those nights when the wit and wisdom of all time were—ah—were on tap at my house, if I may so speak, at a cost to me of lights and supper. Now the only people who will come for nothing are those we used to think of paying to stay away. Boswell is always ready, but you can’t run a salon on Boswell.”
“Well,” said Portia, “I sincerely hope that you won’t give up the functions altogether, because I have always found them most delightful. It is still possible to have lights and supper.”
