Extract from "The Great Gatsby", written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, published in 1925
Chapter 1
"You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy," I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. "Can't you talk about crops or something?"
I meant nothing in particular by this remark but it was taken up in an unexpected way.
"Civilization's going to pieces," broke out Tom violently. "I've gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read 'The Rise of the Syndicalist Empires' by this man Canaris?"
"Why, no," I answered, rather surprised by his tone.
"Well, it's a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out humanity will be--will be utterly submerged.”
"Tom's getting very profound," said Daisy with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. "He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we----"
"Well, these books are all scientific," insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. "This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It's up to us to watch out or these...animals...will have control of things."
"We've got to beat them down," whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun. “Before they beat us down.”
"You ought to see the syndicalists in Chicago--" began Miss Baker but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.
"This idea is that we are all human. I am, and you are and you are and----" After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod and she winked at me again. "Even the Bolsheviks are human. But the syndicalists aren’t. They’re different. They are more like bees or ants. And they want to turn us into them. Do you see?"
There was something pathetic in his concentration as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more.
“Thank God that the syndicalists are divided. The Totalists, Autonomists, and Free Workers are at each others’ throats and sometimes seem more willing to kill each other than they are us. But when they decide to unite, they’ll be unstoppable. Which is why us humans have to unite first.”
“Unite,” echoed Daisy, staring outside the window.
When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned toward me.
"I'll tell you a family secret," she whispered enthusiastically. "It's about the butler's nose. Do you want to hear about the butler's nose?"
"That's why I came over tonight."
"Well, he wasn't always a butler; he used to be a manager at a New York factory, but the workers got corrupted and became syndicalists. Eventually, they tried to, tried to---”
“Spontaneously execute him,” suggested Miss Baker.
“Yes, that. He escaped, just in time, but then some human ruffian came in and broke his nose ‘to send him a message’. Our butler finally had to give up the position after the company decided to negotiate with the scum.”
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened--then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.
The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom's ear whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.
"I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a--of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn't he?" She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation. "An absolute rose?"
This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose.
Chapter 1
"You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy," I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. "Can't you talk about crops or something?"
I meant nothing in particular by this remark but it was taken up in an unexpected way.
"Civilization's going to pieces," broke out Tom violently. "I've gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read 'The Rise of the Syndicalist Empires' by this man Canaris?"
"Why, no," I answered, rather surprised by his tone.
"Well, it's a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out humanity will be--will be utterly submerged.”
"Tom's getting very profound," said Daisy with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. "He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we----"
"Well, these books are all scientific," insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. "This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It's up to us to watch out or these...animals...will have control of things."
"We've got to beat them down," whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun. “Before they beat us down.”
"You ought to see the syndicalists in Chicago--" began Miss Baker but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.
"This idea is that we are all human. I am, and you are and you are and----" After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod and she winked at me again. "Even the Bolsheviks are human. But the syndicalists aren’t. They’re different. They are more like bees or ants. And they want to turn us into them. Do you see?"
There was something pathetic in his concentration as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more.
“Thank God that the syndicalists are divided. The Totalists, Autonomists, and Free Workers are at each others’ throats and sometimes seem more willing to kill each other than they are us. But when they decide to unite, they’ll be unstoppable. Which is why us humans have to unite first.”
“Unite,” echoed Daisy, staring outside the window.
When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned toward me.
"I'll tell you a family secret," she whispered enthusiastically. "It's about the butler's nose. Do you want to hear about the butler's nose?"
"That's why I came over tonight."
"Well, he wasn't always a butler; he used to be a manager at a New York factory, but the workers got corrupted and became syndicalists. Eventually, they tried to, tried to---”
“Spontaneously execute him,” suggested Miss Baker.
“Yes, that. He escaped, just in time, but then some human ruffian came in and broke his nose ‘to send him a message’. Our butler finally had to give up the position after the company decided to negotiate with the scum.”
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened--then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.
The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom's ear whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.
"I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a--of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn't he?" She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation. "An absolute rose?"
This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose.