Frenzied Fiction

  Produced by Gardner Buchanan

  FRENZIED FICTION

  By Stephen Leacock

  CONTENTS

  I. My Revelations as a Spy II. Father Knickerbocker: A Fantasy III. The Prophet in Our Midst IV. Personal Adventures in the Spirit World V. The Sorrows of a Summer Guest VI. To Nature and Back Again VII. The Cave-Man as He Is VIII. Ideal Interviews-- I. With a European Prince II. With Our Greatest Actor III. With Our Greatest Scientist IV. With Our Typical Novelists IX. The New Education X. The Errors of Santa Claus XI. Lost in New York XII. This Strenuous Age XIII. The Old, Old Story of How Five Men Went Fishing XIV. Back from the Land XV. The Perplexity Column as Done by the Jaded Journalist XVI. Simple Stories of Success, or How to Succeed in Life XVII. In Dry Toronto XVIII. Merry Christmas

  I. My Revelations as a Spy

  In many people the very name "Spy" excites a shudder of apprehension; weSpies, in fact, get quite used to being shuddered at. None of us Spiesmind it at all. Whenever I enter a hotel and register myself as a SpyI am quite accustomed to see a thrill of fear run round the clerks, orclerk, behind the desk.

  Us Spies or We Spies--for we call ourselves both--are thus a race apart.None know us. All fear us. Where do we live? Nowhere. Where are we?Everywhere. Frequently we don't know ourselves where we are. The secretorders that we receive come from so high up that it is often forbiddento us even to ask where we are. A friend of mine, or at least a FellowSpy--us Spies have no friends--one of the most brilliant men in theHungarian Secret Service, once spent a month in New York under theimpression that he was in Winnipeg. If this happened to the mostbrilliant, think of the others.

  All, I say, fear us. Because they know and have reason to know ourpower. Hence, in spite of the prejudice against us, we are able to moveeverywhere, to lodge in the best hotels, and enter any society that wewish to penetrate.

  Let me relate an incident to illustrate this: a month ago I entered oneof the largest of the New York hotels which I will merely call the B.hotel without naming it: to do so might blast it. We Spies, in fact,never _name_ a hotel. At the most we indicate it by a number known onlyto ourselves, such as 1, 2, or 3.

  On my presenting myself at the desk the clerk informed me that he had noroom vacant. I knew this of course to be a mere subterfuge; whether ornot he suspected that I was a Spy I cannot say. I was muffled up, toavoid recognition, in a long overcoat with the collar turned up andreaching well above my ears, while the black beard and the moustache,that I had slipped on in entering the hotel, concealed my face. "Letme speak a moment to the manager," I said. When he came I beckoned himaside and taking his ear in my hand I breathed two words into it. "Goodheavens!" he gasped, while his face turned as pale as ashes. "Is itenough?" I asked. "Can I have a room, or must I breathe again?" "No,no," said the manager, still trembling. Then, turning to the clerk:"Give this gentleman a room," he said, "and give him a bath."

  What these two words are that will get a room in New York at once I mustnot divulge. Even now, when the veil of secrecy is being lifted, theinternational interests involved are too complicated to permit it.Suffice it to say that if these two had failed I know a couple of othersstill better.

  I narrate this incident, otherwise trivial, as indicating the astoundingramifications and the ubiquity of the international spy system. Asimilar illustration occurs to me as I write. I was walking the otherday with another man, on upper B. way between the T. Building and the W.Garden.

  "Do you see that man over there?" I said, pointing from the side ofthe street on which we were walking on the sidewalk to the other sideopposite to the side that we were on.

  "The man with the straw hat?" he asked. "Yes, what of him?"

  "Oh, nothing," I answered, "except that he's a Spy!"

  "Great heavens!" exclaimed my acquaintance, leaning up against alamp-post for support. "A Spy! How do you know that? What does it mean?"

  I gave a quiet laugh--we Spies learn to laugh very quietly.

  "Ha!" I said, "that is my secret, my friend. _Verbum sapientius! Chesara sara! Yodel doodle doo!_"

  My acquaintance fell in a dead faint upon the street. I watched themtake him away in an ambulance. Will the reader be surprised to learnthat among the white-coated attendants who removed him I recognized noless a person than the famous Russian Spy, Poulispantzoff. What he wasdoing there I could not tell. No doubt his orders came from so high upthat he himself did not know. I had seen him only twice before--oncewhen we were both disguised as Zulus at Buluwayo, and once in theinterior of China, at the time when Poulispantzoff made his secret entryinto Thibet concealed in a tea-case. He was inside the tea-case when Isaw him; so at least I was informed by the coolies who carried it. YetI recognized him instantly. Neither he nor I, however, gave any sign ofrecognition other than an imperceptible movement of the outer eyelid.(We Spies learn to move the outer lid of the eye so imperceptibly thatit cannot be seen.) Yet after meeting Poulispantzoff in this way I wasnot surprised to read in the evening papers a few hours afterwardthat the uncle of the young King of Siam had been assassinated. Theconnection between these two events I am unfortunately not at liberty toexplain; the consequences to the Vatican would be too serious. I doubtif it could remain top-side up.

  These, however, are but passing incidents in a life filled with dangerand excitement. They would have remained unrecorded and unrevealed, likethe rest of my revelations, were it not that certain recent events haveto some extent removed the seal of secrecy from my lips. The death ofa certain royal sovereign makes it possible for me to divulge thingshitherto undivulgeable. Even now I can only tell a part, a small part,of the terrific things that I know. When more sovereigns die I candivulge more. I hope to keep on divulging at intervals for years. But Iam compelled to be cautious. My relations with the Wilhelmstrasse, withDowning Street and the Quai d'Orsay, are so intimate, and my footingwith the Yildiz Kiosk and the Waldorf-Astoria and Childs' Restaurantsare so delicate, that a single _faux pas_ might prove to be a falsestep.

  It is now seventeen years since I entered the Secret Service of the G.empire. During this time my activities have taken me into every quarterof the globe, at times even into every eighth or sixteenth of it.

  It was I who first brought back word to the Imperial Chancellor ofthe existence of an Entente between England and France. "Is there anEntente?" he asked me, trembling with excitement, on my arrival at theWilhelmstrasse. "Your Excellency," I said, "there is." He groaned. "Canyou stop it?" he asked. "Don't ask me," I said sadly. "Where must westrike?" demanded the Chancellor. "Fetch me a map," I said. They didso. I placed my finger on the map. "Quick, quick," said the Chancellor,"look where his finger is." They lifted it up. "Morocco!" they cried. Ihad meant it for Abyssinia but it was too late to change. That night thewarship Panther sailed under sealed orders. The rest is history, or atleast history and geography.

  In the same way it was I who brought word to the Wilhelmstrasse of the_rapprochement_ between England and Russia in Persia. "What did youfind?" asked the Chancellor as I laid aside the Russian disguise inwhich I had travelled. "A _Rapprochement!_" I said. He groaned. "Theyseem to get all the best words," he said.

  I shall always feel, to my regret; that I am personally responsible forthe outbreak of the present war. It may have had ulterior causes. Butthere is no doubt that it was precipitated by the fact that, for thefirst time in seventeen years, I took a six weeks' vacation in June andJuly of 1914. The consequences of this careless step I ought to haveforeseen. Yet I took such precautions as I could. "Do you think," Iasked, "that you can preserve the _status quo_ for six weeks, merely sixweeks, if I stop spying and take a rest?" "We'll try," they answered."Remember," I said, as I packed
my things, "keep the Dardanelles closed;have the Sandjak of Novi Bazaar properly patrolled, and let the Dobrudjaremain under a _modus vivendi_ till I come back."

  Two months later, while sitting sipping my coffee at a Kurhof in theSchwarzwald, I read in the newspapers that a German army had invadedFrance and was fighting the French, and that the English expeditionaryforce had crossed the Channel. "This," I said to myself, "means war." Asusual, I was right.

  It is needless for me to recount here the life of busy activity thatfalls to a Spy in wartime. It was necessary for me to be here, thereand everywhere, visiting all the best hotels, watering-places, summerresorts, theatres, and places of amusement. It was necessary, moreover,to act with the utmost caution and to assume an air of carelessindolence in order to lull suspicion asleep. With this end in view Imade a practice of never rising till ten in the morning. I breakfastedwith great leisure, and contented myself with passing the morning in aquiet stroll, taking care, however, to keep my ears open. After lunch Igenerally feigned a light sleep, keeping my ears shut. A _table d'hote_dinner, followed by a visit to the theatre, brought the strenuous day toa close. Few Spies, I venture to say, worked harder than I did.

  It was during the third year of the war that I received a peremptorysummons from the head of the Imperial Secret Service at Berlin, BaronFisch von Gestern. "I want to see you," it read. Nothing more. In thelife of a Spy one learns to think quickly, and to think is to act. Igathered as soon as I received the despatch that for some reason orother Fisch von Gestern was anxious to see me, having, as I instantlyinferred, something to say to me. This conjecture proved correct.

  The Baron rose at my entrance with military correctness and shook hands.

  "Are you willing," he inquired, "to undertake a mission to America?"

  "I am," I answered.

  "Very good. How soon can you start?"

  "As soon as I have paid the few bills that I owe in Berlin," I replied.

  "We can hardly wait for that," said my chief, "and in case it mightexcite comment. You must start to-night!"

  "Very good," I said.

  "Such," said the Baron, "are the Kaiser's orders. Here is an Americanpassport and a photograph that will answer the purpose. The likeness isnot great, but it is sufficient."

  "But," I objected, abashed for a moment, "this photograph is of a manwith whiskers and I am, unfortunately, clean-shaven."

  "The orders are imperative," said Gestern, with official hauteur. "Youmust start to-night. You can grow whiskers this afternoon."

  "Very good," I replied.

  "And now to the business of your mission," continued the Baron."The United States, as you have perhaps heard, is making war againstGermany."

  "I have heard so," I replied.

  "Yes," continued Gestern. "The fact has leaked out--how, we do notknow--and is being widely reported. His Imperial Majesty has decided tostop the war with the United States."

  I bowed.

  "He intends to send over a secret treaty of the same nature as the onerecently made with his recent Highness the recent Czar of Russia. Underthis treaty Germany proposes to give to the United States the whole ofequatorial Africa and in return the United States is to give to Germanythe whole of China. There are other provisions, but I need not troubleyou with them. Your mission relates, not to the actual treaty, but tothe preparation of the ground."

  I bowed again.

  "You are aware, I presume," continued the Baron, "that in all highinternational dealings, at least in Europe, the ground has to beprepared. A hundred threads must be unravelled. This the ImperialGovernment itself cannot stoop to do. The work must be done by agentslike yourself. You understand all this already, no doubt?"

  I indicated my assent.

  "These, then, are your instructions," said the Baron, speaking slowlyand distinctly, as if to impress his words upon my memory. "On yourarrival in the United States you will follow the accredited methods thatare known to be used by all the best Spies of the highest diplomacy.You have no doubt read some of the books, almost manuals of instruction,that they have written?"

  "I have read many of them," I said.

  "Very well. You will enter, that is to say, enter and move everywhere inthe best society. Mark specially, please, that you must not only _enter_it but you must _move_. You must, if I may put it so, get a move on."

  I bowed.

  "You must mix freely with the members of the Cabinet. You must dine withthem. This is a most necessary matter and one to be kept well in mind.Dine with them often in such a way as to make yourself familiar to them.Will you do this?"

  "I will," I said.

  "Very good. Remember also that in order to mask your purpose you mustconstantly be seen with the most fashionable and most beautiful women ofthe American capital. Can you do this?"

  "Can I?" I said.

  "You must if need be"--and the Baron gave a most significant look whichwas not lost upon me--"carry on an intrigue with one or, better, withseveral of them. Are you ready for it?"

  "More than ready," I said.

  "Very good. But this is only a part. You are expected also tofamiliarize yourself with the leaders of the great financial interests.You are to put yourself on such a footing with them as to borrow largesums of money from them. Do you object to this?"

  "No," I said frankly, "I do not."

  "Good! You will also mingle freely in Ambassadorial and foreign circles.It would be well for you to dine, at least once a week, with the BritishAmbassador. And now one final word"--here Gestern spoke with singularimpressiveness--"as to the President of the United States."

  "Yes," I said.

  "You must mix with him on a footing of the most open-handedfriendliness. Be at the White House continually. Make yourself in thefullest sense of the words the friend and adviser of the President. Allthis I think is clear. In fact, it is only what is done, as you know, byall the masters of international diplomacy."

  "Precisely," I said.

  "Very good. And then," continued the Baron, "as soon as you findyourself sufficiently _en rapport_ with everybody, or I should say," headded in correction, for the Baron shares fully in the present Germanhorror of imported French words, "when you find yourself sufficientlyin enggeknupfterverwandtschaft with everybody, you may then proceed toadvance your peace terms. And now, my dear fellow," said the Baron,with a touch of genuine cordiality, "one word more. Are you in need ofmoney?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "I thought so. But you will find that you need it less and less as yougo on. Meantime, good-bye, and best wishes for your mission."

  Such was, such is, in fact, the mission with which I am accredited. Iregard it as by far the most important mission with which I have beenaccredited by the Wilhelmstrasse. Yet I am compelled to admit that up tothe present it has proved unsuccessful. My attempts to carry it outhave been baffled. There is something perhaps in the atmosphere of thisrepublic which obstructs the working of high diplomacy. For over fivemonths now I have been waiting and willing to dine with the AmericanCabinet. They have not invited me. For four weeks I sat each nightwaiting in the J. hotel in Washington with my suit on ready to be asked.They did not come near me.

  Nor have I yet received an invitation from the British Embassy invitingme to an informal lunch or to midnight supper with the Ambassador.Everybody who knows anything of the inside working of the internationalspy system will realize that without these invitations one can donothing. Nor has the President of the United States given any sign. Ihave sent ward to him, in cipher, that I am ready to dine with him onany day that may be convenient to both of us. He has made no move in thematter.

  Under these circumstances an intrigue with any of the leaders offashionable society has proved impossible. My attempts to approach themhave been misunderstood--in fact, have led to my being invited toleave the J. hotel. The fact that I was compelled to leave it, owing toreasons that I cannot reveal, without paying my account, has occasionedunnecessary and dangerous comment. I connect it, in fact, with th
esingular attitude adopted by the B. hotel on my arrival in New York, towhich I have already referred.

  I have therefore been compelled to fall back on revelations anddisclosures. Here again I find the American atmosphere singularlyuncongenial. I have offered to reveal to the Secretary of State theentire family history of Ferdinand of Bulgaria for fifty dollars. Hesays it is not worth it. I have offered to the British Embassy theinside story of the Abdication of Constantine for five dollars. They saythey know it, and knew it before it happened. I have offered, for littlemore than a nominal sum, to blacken the character of every reigningfamily in Germany. I am told that it is not necessary.

  Meantime, as it is impossible to return to Central Europe, I expect toopen either a fruit store or a peanut stand very shortly in this greatmetropolis. I imagine that many of my former colleagues will soon bedoing the same!