Really You Americans

I

WELL, you remember this song sparrow. Hubert, I think his name was. He and his wife Enid lived in a little town up in New York State called Æschylus Center. Like all song sparrows they were a little inclined to say the same thing over and over. But they were American to the last tail-feather.

Well, one August afternoon Hubert went off to the ball game and didn’t get home until late. ‘Good gracious, Hubert,’ said Enid, ‘where on earth have you been?’ ‘Well, it was a doubleheader,’ said Hubert, ‘and Lyonsville got the first and then in the second they were tied until the eleventh when that Hymie Link hit a three-bagger that—’ ‘I haven’t time to listen now,’ said Enid; ‘I’ve got to get something for the children’s supper. You’ll have to look after them until I get back. Oh, by the way, there was that bird from New York called to see you. He said he’d be back.’ ‘Who was he?’ Hubert asked, but Enid had gone.

So Hubert sat on the edge of the nest and looked at his children. He couldn’t see much of them but the inside of their throats. Children were mostly mouths, he thought, and wished he was back on the telegraph wire watching the ball game. And then he heard a high chirping voice say, ‘Ah, Hubert, old boy, you remember me, don’t you — Soames?’

Well, Hubert remembered Soames all right. He was a pleasant-spoken English sparrow with whom Hubert had become acquainted in New York when he and Enid had spent several seasons there. Both of them had been rather flattered by the attentions of so sophisticated a bird and they had even copied some of his mannerisms and ways of speaking. ‘Of course I remember you, my dear fellow,’ said Hubert. ‘Take a twig and tell me what you’re doing so far from home.’

Well, it seemed that Soames was just traveling about. ‘ I have often wanted to see your beautiful country,’ he said, ‘and as things are a bit upset at home . . .’ ‘No trouble, I hope?’ said Hubert, and Soames said, ‘Oh no, nothing really serious. It’s simply those starlings again. Noisy unpleasant chaps. And as we English sparrows have been practically the only birds on the island for so long we rather resent the intrusion.’ ‘Naturally,’ said Hubert, ‘naturally.’ ‘The fact is, old boy,’ said Soames, ‘things really don’t look too rosy. They outnumber us two to one. It may well come to the point where we might have to ask for some outside help from you fellows.’ ‘Which I’m sure we’d be glad to give you,’ said Hubert. ‘Of course you would,’ said Soames warmly. ‘One would hardly like to sit by and see a superior race defeated, would one? Oh, of course,’ he said hastily, ‘I include you, Hubert. After all, we’re all sparrows.’ ‘I suppose so,’ said Hubert thoughtfully. ‘In a way. I mean,’ he said, ‘there are robins and orioles and catbirds and oh, all these other birds around here. It’s true enough — we don’t like starlings. But we’re all Americans together, you know.’ ‘One understands that, of course,’ said Soames. ‘But holding so many traditions in common— Ah,’ he said, ‘here comes your charming wife. Perhaps — well, there is no need to disturb her.’

Well, Soames stayed three days and Hubert and Enid took him around and showed him the sights and introduced him to their friends and everyone agreed that he was a very cultured and delightful person. Hubert didn’t say anything to Enid about what Soames had said about the starlings though he didn’t know why he didn’t. But after Soames had gone he talked a good deal about him to his friends. Having lived among the English sparrows for a while he felt that he knew them pretty well. ‘Ah,’ he would say, ‘ they know how to do things! ‘ Enid had to remind him that except for Soames he had had nothing to do with them. ‘Possibly,’ said Hubert. ‘Possibly. But it was nice to see old Soames again. There’s something about these fellows — they have a breadth, a — a cultured outlook that—’ ‘I wonder what brought him up here?’ said Enid. ‘He was just traveling about,’ said Hubert. ‘He came to see me.’ ‘I gathered that,’ said Enid; ‘but why?’ ‘Well,’ said Hubert, ‘maybe because he likes me.’ Enid just said, ‘Oh.’

Hubert did talk to his friends about the starling invasion and they were indignant. ‘The darn starlings! ‘ they said. ‘What do they want—the earth?’ ‘If they do drive the English sparrows out.,’ said Hubert, ‘they’ll be coming up here. We’ll be next.’ The other birds agreed that it was outrageous that a race which could produce such a flower of culture as Soames should be conquered by the starlings, who, as everybody knew, were just a lot of gangsters. The sparrows particularly were much disturbed. ‘ We’re practically the same species,’ they said. ‘We ought to stand by them.’

‘Don’t forget,’ said one old flicker, ‘that those English sparrows did the same thing to the other birds years ago.

They drove them all into the suburbs. It isn’t possible for other birds to live among English sparrows and be on equal terms with them.’ ‘You forget,’ said Hubert, ruffling up his feathers, ‘that I lived among them for some time.’ ‘That’s just what I mean,’ said the flicker, and gave a screeching laugh and flew off.

Hubert shrugged his wings. ‘What can you expect,’ he said, ‘of a. fellow who’s never been outside the little village where he was born ? It’s this damned provincialism — this beastly suspicion of everyone that’s a little different — that keeps us where we are.’ ‘Where are we, Hubert?’ a catbird asked. ‘Well, you know what I mean,’ said Hubert. ‘We ought to broaden out — be men of the world.’

But Hubert finally whipped up enough enthusiasm so that a meeting was held and resolutions passed condemning the rapacity of the starlings, and as it was now about the time that everybody was getting ready to go south for the winter a number of the birds decided to start a week early and drop off in New York to see how matters stood. Hubert hadn’t been able to keep the affair to himself, of course, and Enid didn’t like it much. ‘ Good heavens, Hubert,’ she said, ‘haven’t you responsibilities enough of your own without taking on those of an entirely distinct species?’ Hubert said nobly that the defense of the oppressed was every true bird’s duty. Enid said, ‘Pooh!’ But she thought a week in New York would be fun.

II

Well, when they got to New York they went first to look at the nest in a window embrasure of the Metropolitan Museum where they had once lived. They found it occupied by a pair of English sparrows who were not at all cordial. ‘Really?’ they said coldly when Hubert explained. ‘How interesting.’ ‘I don’t know that it’s specially interesting,’ said Hubert, a little stung. ‘But we had some good times here and we thought we’d like to see it again.’ ‘And now you have,’ said the husband with a sort of frosty amusement. ‘Well, good afternoon.’

‘Unpleasant people,’ said Hubert as they flew away. ‘Let’s look up Soames.’

Soames lived with a married sister named Maud in a tree in Rockefeller Center. There was no one home when they got there and they sat down on a limb to wait. They hadn’t been there long when a stout rather puffy sparrow flew up. He eyed them severely. ‘This nest — occupied, you know,’ he said gruffly. ‘Indeed?’ said Hubert, who was still somewhat ruffled. ‘Come, come,’ said the stout sparrow, ‘must ask you to move on.’ ‘Oh, go away,’ said Hubert, ‘go away. We’ve as good a right here as you.’ ‘Ha!’ said the stout sparrow, puffing up apoplectically. ‘Bolshies, eh? Why, damme, sir—’ ‘Why are you getting so excited?’ put in Enid. ‘We’re waiting here for Mr. Soames, if you know who he is.’ ‘Soames?’ said the stout sparrow, taken aback. ‘Certainly know Soames. Why couldn’t you say so? Americans, of course. Queer people, you Americans. Talk all exclamation points. Excitement. Hurry. Ought to be calm. Say what you mean.’ ‘Yeah,’ said Hubert, ‘we’re terrible, all right.’ ‘Not terrible,’ said the stout sparrow. ‘Odd. Very odd. Good day.’ And he flew off.

‘There’s your English sparrow for you,’ said Enid. ‘ We sit here quietly and he pretty near blows his feathers off bellowing that Americans haven’t any repose. He hews to his line, let the facts fall where they may. You know what he’d have said next?’ She stopped and said hastily, ‘Oh, I guess this is Maud.’

Maud was a large unnecessarily plain sparrow with a manner that was at once decided and vaguely dithered. She said Soames was away on one of his trips, but she hoped they’d stay a day or two. Soames had spoken so nicely of them. ‘And it was so nice for him too,’ she said, ‘having someone like you in those queer places he’s been visiting.’ ‘I don’t suppose we’re much different from most of the birds he’d meet through the country,’ said Enid. ‘Oh, my dear!’ said Maud. ‘You don’t know. You should hear him tell about it. But you — why, you don’t talk through your noses, do you?’ ‘Few birds do,’ said Hubert drily. ‘Since they have no noses to speak of they have no noses to speak through.’ ‘How funny!’ said Maud. ‘Really, you know, that’s very funny. And I never thought of it just that way before, but it’s true, isn’t it? Only, you know what I mean. We see so many Americans at migration time and I do hope you won’t mind, but they’re really quite impossible. So vulgar and loud. Oh, not you two, of course. You’re quite, quite different. You seem quite like English sparrows.’

‘There you are,’ Enid murmured in Hubert’s ear. ‘That’s how our stout friend would have explained. We’re the rule that proves the exception, or something like that.’

‘What did you say?’ said Maud. ‘One of your killing sallies, I suppose. Soames has told me how dreadfully clever you are.’ ‘No,’ said Hubert, ‘Enid was merely remarking that we really are quite typically American.’ ‘Oh, but I couldn’t admit that,’ said Maud, and Enid said quickly, ‘But of course you couldn’t.’

Well, Maud looked at her sort of doubtfully and then she said, ‘Do come see our view.’ And she hopped down a couple of branches to where they could see into the window of a travel agency. There were a lot of English travel posters in the window and in the middle was a big picture of some cathedral. ‘Such a piece of luck finding this place,’ said Maud, ‘with such a splendid view of Winchester. Because it’s my husband’s ancestral home. The fourth window in the clerestory. His family lived there for centuries. I’ve often heard his grandmother tell of their life there. The dear Dean took such an interest in them.’

So Hubert and Enid exclaimed over the view and gave little appreciative chirps at the anecdotes of the Dean, and while they were still doing this Maud’s husband came home. His name was Nevil and he had just been out to his first ball game, which was a World Series game at the Stadium — Yankees vs. Giants. ‘It, must have been a swell game,’ said Hubert. ‘Who won?’ ‘I really don’t know,’ said Nevil. ‘They have such an odd method of scoring. I daresay you could explain it to us?’ But before Hubert could reply he said hastily, ‘Of course I know that if they strike the ball with the club it counts one and if they strike it over the palings it counts two.’ ‘No,’ said Hubert, ‘you’ve got it wrong. It’s the runs that count.’ ‘Of course,’ said Nevil testily, ‘and then they take off something for the errors. One man committed such an odd error. He was running along that path in the middle of the field and he stumbled and slid quite a distance on his belly. I suspect they took off several counts for that, as everyone seemed so angry at him and he went back and sat down.’ ‘They were probably angry at the umpire,’ said Hubert. ‘It’s really a very simple game,’ said Nevil, ‘almost childish. And no particular skill seems needed. They just take turns striking at a ball thrown to them. Now in cricket —’

‘Did you enjoy the game?’ Enid asked. Nevil turned and looked at her. ‘What rather puzzled me,’ he said, ‘was the names of the teams. The Giants were none of them particularly tall men. And the Yankees — well, all the players were Yankees, one supposes. Why should one team be distinguished as Yankees par excellence?’ ‘Did you enjoy the game?’ Enid asked again. ‘It was very interesting,’ said Nevil. ‘I think something can always be learned of a people by studying their customs. Their amusements. I fancy one shouldn’t merely dismiss them as unimportant because they seem crude and raw.’

Hubert looked at Enid and grinned.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘you asked for it.’ And then he said sharply to Nevil, ‘How about the starlings? Soames seemed to feel that they were going to give you trouble.’ ‘Old Soames!’ said Nevil affectionately. ‘He’s a bit jumpy these days. Oh, it’s possible, of course, that they may try to move in on us. But I fancy we’ll manage.’ ‘Of course your people would help us,’ put in Maud. ‘Would you help us under the same circumstances?’ asked Hubert. ‘You’re so situated,’ said Nevil, ‘that the question is scarcely likely to come up, is it?’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Hubert. ‘And you see, without knowing you very well, we’ve always felt very friendly towards you. I think the feeling’s been rather one-sided.’ ‘My dear Hubert!’ said Maud. ‘How absurd! Of course we feel friendly towards you. As for you and Enid — I can’t think of you as Americans. You seem quite like English sparrows.’

‘That’s partly what I mean,’ said Hubert. ‘Evidently you intend it for a compliment. Evidently you think we’re rather decent and so you say that we don’t seem like Americans. I wouldn’t say that you felt very friendly towards Americans.’

‘Aren’t we getting pretty metaphysical?’ said Nevil. ‘The fact is — whatever you personally may think about it, Hubert — your people would help us. I know what the general feeling among them is. Of course you have your own sources of information, but— ‘ ‘Well, I’m afraid that I personally wouldn’t be much inclined to help you,’ said Hubert rather crossly. ‘Eh?’ said Nevil, staring. ‘You wouldn’t? But after all, you’re sparrows.’ ‘After all what?’ said Enid sharply. ‘Well, I mean to say,’ said Nevil, ‘you’re Americans, aren’t you?’

‘I guess you haven’t been listening, Nevil,’ said Hubert. ‘Yes, we’re Americans, and I guess it’s just our hard luck and nothing can be done about it.’ ‘Oh, I say!’ said Nevil commiseratingly. ‘I wouldn’t take it like that. After all — Americans—' ‘Sorry,’ interrupted Hubert; ‘I just remembered — we have an engagement across town in five minutes. Nice to have seen you. Come along, Enid.’

So Hubert and Enid flew off down Fifth Avenue. ‘Soames will feel badly about that,’ said Hubert. And then he said, ‘After all, I suppose they’re not representative.’ ‘If you mean we’re going to call on more of them,’ said Enid, ‘you’re mistaken.’ ‘Well, well,’ said Hubert, and he didn’t say any more and they flew down to Washington and spent a couple of days on the White House lawn and then went down to Miami and spent the winter.

III

Well, it wasn’t until along the next summer when Hubert and Enid were back in Æschylus Center and another family was on the way that Soames showed up again. Things were pretty bad, he said. The starlings had occupied the Bronx and large sections of Brooklyn and were beginning to drive in on the city proper. ‘And in short,’ said Soames, ‘we need the help you promised and need it badly.’ ‘I haven’t the authority to promise anything like that,’ said Hubert. ‘But I’ll call a meeting and you can put it up to them.’

So the meeting was held and Soames made a very eloquent speech, all about ties of blood and hands across the Hudson and so on, and the sparrows, of whom there were a great many, were deeply moved. Although a lot of them who had stopped off in New York on the way south had had much the same experience Hubert had. But one of the bobolinks said, ‘That’s all very fine, Soames, but if we help you what’s in it for us?’ ‘In it for you?’ said Soames. ‘Well, you don’t like the starlings, do you?’ ‘No, we don’t,’ said the bobolink, ‘and if they come up here and try to push us around we’ll know what to do. But they aren’t up here.’ ‘Well, I must say,’ said Soames, ‘ that I’m afraid I

can’t find any mercenary motive for you. I had supposed that for the sake of our ancient friendship — our common ideals — ‘ ‘ You’re away off where I can’t follow you,’ said the bobolink.

Well, the meeting went on for a while, but it didn’t get anywhere and finally it broke up. ‘I thought you’d speak for me, Hubert,’ said Soames reproachfully. ‘I’m afraid you might not like what I’d have said,’ said Hubert. ‘You know, Soames, that ancient-friendship stuff is a lot of hooey. We used to feel very friendly. We admired you for a lot of things and we felt that you did us. But the more we see of you the more we find that the friendship and admiration are all on one side. But let’s go home and see what Enid thinks.’

‘Well, Soames,’ said Enid, ‘it must be nice to get up here again away from all the noise and chatter of those dreadful English sparrows.’ ‘You forget, don’t you, that I’m an English sparrow?’ said Soames. ‘Oh,’ said Enid, ‘but you don’t seem in the least English. Goodness, no! You seem quite like one of us.’ ‘Yet I assure you,’ said Soames with some irritation, ‘that I am quite typically English.’ ‘I can’t admit it,’ said Enid. ‘You see, if I admit it I should be putting the English sparrows on an equality with the Americans. And we know, of course — well, you see,’ she said, ‘we have seen a good deal of them. So rude and quarrelsome and opinionated. Though of course we never argue with them. One can’t. Such ridiculous ideas! We merely smile.’

Well, Soames had been getting huffier and huffier. ‘Really, Hubert,’ he said, ‘I scarcely know what to say. I’ve always felt that we were rather good friends. But of course if you feel this way—■’ ‘Enid is merely giving you a little of your own medicine,’ said Hubert. ‘We’ve neither of us ever met an English sparrow yet who didn’t explain us to ourselves and tell us in the first five minutes exactly what was wrong with us. You have such a godlike certainty, Soames. You’re rather like God, you know. You’ve made man in your own image. And where you don’t see an exact replica of yourself you can only see a lower form of life. Frankly, Soames, it’s beginning to bore us.’

‘I’m sure you would always be received with courtesy wherever you went among our people,’ said Soames stiffly. ‘I told you he wouldn’t understand,’ said Enid, and Hubert said, ‘Yes — courtesy! The kind one accords to the village idiot when one wants to get him to do an errand.’ ‘But this is farcical!’ said Soames. ‘Really, you Americans —’ He paused, looking rather disgusted, but more with himself than with Hubert. ‘I might have known better,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘Yes,’ said Hubert, ‘you might. You’re a good fellow, Soames. We like you. But that isn’t enough. There’s a difference in our attitudes, and yours precludes friendship. I’ll give you an example. We assume without understanding it that cricket is a good game. You assume without understanding it that baseball is a silly game.’ ‘But what have games got to do with it?’ said Soames. ‘Oh, you Americans—’ ‘Yes,’ said Hubert, ‘let’s leave it at that.’ And when all’s said and done I guess that was the only thing to do.