Ⅰ
Aslongagoas1860itwastheproperthingtobebornathome.Atpresent,soIamtold,thehighgodsofmedicinehavedecreedthatthefirstcriesoftheyoungshallbeutteredupontheanestheticairofahospital,preferablyafashionableone.SoyoungMr.andMrs.RogerButtonwerefiftyyearsaheadofstylewhentheydecided,onedayinthesummerof1860,thattheirfirstbabyshouldbeborninahospital.WhetherthisanachronismhadanybearingupontheastonishinghistoryIamabouttosetdownwillneverbeknown.
Ishalltellyouwhatoccurred,andletyoujudgeforyourself.
TheRogerButtonsheldanenviableposition,bothsocialandfinancial,inante-bellumBaltimore.TheywererelatedtotheThisFamilyandtheThatFamily,which,aseverySouthernerknew,entitledthemtomembershipinthatenormouspeeragewhichlargelypopulatedtheConfederacy.Thiswastheirfirstexperiencewiththecharmingoldcustomofhavingbabies—Mr.Buttonwasnaturallynervous.HehopeditwouldbeaboysothathecouldbesenttoYaleCollegeinConnecticut,atwhichinstitutionMr.Buttonhimselfhadbeenknownforfouryearsbythesomewhatobviousnicknameof"Cuff."
OntheSeptembermorningconsecratedtotheenormouseventhearosenervouslyatsixo'clock,dressedhimself,adjustedanimpeccablestock,andhurriedforththroughthestreetsofBaltimoretothehospital,todeterminewhetherthedarknessofthenighthadborneinnewlifeuponitsbosom.
WhenhewasapproximatelyahundredyardsfromtheMarylandPrivateHospitalforLadiesandGentlemenhesawDoctorKeene,thefamilyphysician,descendingthefrontsteps,rubbinghishandstogetherwithawashingmovement—asalldoctorsarerequiredtodobytheunwrittenethicsoftheirprofession.
Mr.RogerButton,thepresidentofRogerButton&Co.,WholesaleHardware,begantoruntowardDoctorKeenewithmuchlessdignitythanwasexpectedfromaSoutherngentlemanofthatpicturesqueperiod."DoctorKeene!"hecalled."Oh,DoctorKeene!"
Thedoctorheardhim,facedaround,andstoodwaiting,acuriousexpressionsettlingonhisharsh,medicinalfaceasMr.Buttondrewnear.
"Whathappened?"demandedMr.Button,ashecameupinagaspingrush."Whatwasit?Howisshe?Aboy?Whoisit?What—"
"Talksense!"saidDoctorKeenesharply.Heappearedsomewhatirritated.
"Isthechildborn?"beggedMr.Button.
DoctorKeenefrowned."Why,yes,Isupposeso—afterafashion."AgainhethrewacuriousglanceatMr.Button.
"Ismywifeallright?"
"Yes."
"Isitaboyoragirl?"
"Herenow!"criedDoctorKeeneinaperfectpassionofirritation,"I'llaskyoutogoandseeforyourself.Outrageous!"Hesnappedthelastwordoutinalmostonesyllable,thenheturnedawaymuttering:"Doyouimagineacaselikethiswillhelpmyprofessionalreputation?Onemorewouldruinme—ruinanybody."
"What'sthematter?"demandedMr.Button,appalled."Triplets?"
"No,nottriplets!"answeredthedoctorcuttingly."What'smore,youcangoandseeforyourself.Andgetanotherdoctor.I
oughtyouintotheworld,youngman,andI'vebeenphysiciantoyourfamilyforfortyyears,butI'mthroughwithyou!Idon'twanttoseeyouoranyofyourrelativeseveragain!Good-bye!"
Thenheturnedsharply,andwithoutanotherwordclimbedintohisphaeton,whichwaswaitingatthecurbstone,anddroveseverelyaway.
Mr.Buttonstoodthereuponthesidewalk,stupefiedandtremblingfromheadtofoot.Whathorriblemishaphadoccurred?HehadsuddenlylostalldesiretogointotheMarylandPrivateHospitalforLadiesandGentlemen—itwaswiththegreatestdifficultythat,amomentlater,heforcedhimselftomountthestepsandenterthefrontdoor.
Anursewassittingbehindadeskintheopaquegloomofthehall.Swallowinghisshame,Mr.Buttonapproachedher.
"Good-morning,"sheremarked,lookingupathimpleasantly.
"Good-morning.I—IamMr.Button."
Atthisalookofutterterrorspreaditselfoverthegirl'sface.Sherosetoherfeetandseemedabouttoflyfromthehall,restrainingherselfonlywiththemostapparentdifficulty.
"Iwanttoseemychild,"saidMr.Button.
Thenursegavealittlescream."Oh—ofcourse!"shecriedhysterically."Upstairs.Rightupstairs.Go—up!"
Shepointedthedirection,andMr.Button,bathedinacoolperspiration,turnedfalteringly,andbegantomounttothesecondfloor.Intheupperhallheaddressedanothernursewhoapproachedhim,basininhand."I'mMr.Button,"hemanagedtoarticulate."Iwanttoseemy—"
Clank!Thebasinclatteredtothefloorandrolledinthedirectionofthestairs.Clank!Clank!Itbeganamethodicaldescentasifsharinginthegeneralterrorwhichthisgentlemanprovoked.
"Iwanttoseemychild!"Mr.Buttonalmostshrieked.Hewasonthevergeofcollapse.
Clank!Thebasinhadreachedthefirstfloor.Thenurseregainedcontrolofherself,andthrewMr.Buttonalookofheartycontempt.
"Allright,Mr.Button,"sheagreedinahushedvoice."Verywell!Butifyouknewwhatstateit'sputusallinthismorning!It'sperfectlyoutrageous!Thehospitalwillneverhavetheghostofareputationafter—"
"Hurry!"hecriedhoarsely."Ican'tstandthis!"
"Comethisway,then,Mr.Button."
Hedraggedhimselfafterher.Attheendofalonghalltheyreachedaroomfromwhichproceededavarietyofhowls—indeed,aroomwhich,inlaterparlance,wouldhavebeenknownasthe"crying-room."Theyentered.Rangedaroundthewallswerehalfadozenwhite-enameledrollingcribs,eachwithatagtiedatthehead.
"Well,"gaspedMr.Button,"whichismine?"
"There!"saidthenurse.
Mr.Button'seyesfollowedherpointingfinger,andthisiswhathesaw.Wrappedinavoluminouswhiteblanket,andpartiallycrammedintooneofthecribs,theresatanoldmanapparentlyaboutseventyyearsofage.Hissparsehairwasalmostwhite,andfromhischindrippedalongsmoke-coloredbeard,whichwavedabsurdlybackandforth,fannedbythe
eezecominginatthewindow.HelookedupatMr.Buttonwithdim,fadedeyesinwhichlurkedapuzzledquestion.
"AmImad?"thunderedMr.Button,histerrorresolvingintorage."Isthissomeghastlyhospitaljoke?"
"Itdoesn'tseemlikeajoketous,"repliedthenurseseverely."AndIdon'tknowwhetheryou'remadornot—butthatismostcertainlyyourchild."
ThecoolperspirationredoubledonMr.Button'sforehead.Heclosedhiseyes,andthen,openingthem,lookedagain.Therewasnomistake—hewasgazingatamanofthreescoreandten—ababyofthreescoreandten,ababywhosefeethungoverthesidesofthecribinwhichitwasreposing.
Theoldmanlookedplacidlyfromonetotheotherforamoment,andthensuddenlyspokeinacrackedandancientvoice."Areyoumyfather?"hedemanded.
Mr.Buttonandthenursestartedviolently.
"Becauseifyouare,"wentontheoldmanquerulously,"Iwishyou'dgetmeoutofthisplace—or,atleast,getthemtoputacomfortablerockerinhere."
"WhereinGod'snamedidyoucomefrom?Whoareyou?"burstoutMr.Buttonfrantically.
"Ican'ttellyouexactlywhoIam,"repliedthequerulouswhine,"becauseI'veonlybeenbornafewhours—butmylastnameiscertainlyButton."
"Youlie!You'reanimpostor!"
Theoldmanturnedwearilytothenurse."Nicewaytowelcomeanew-bornchild,"hecomplainedinaweakvoice."Tellhimhe'swrong,whydon'tyou?"
"You'rewrong,Mr.Button,"saidthenurseseverely."Thisisyourchild,andyou'llhavetomakethebestofit.We'regoingtoaskyoutotakehimhomewithyouassoonaspossible—sometimetoday."
"Home?"repeatedMr.Buttonincredulously.
"Yes,wecan'thavehimhere.Wereallycan't,youknow?"
"I'mrightgladofit,"whinedtheoldman."Thisisafineplacetokeepayoungsterofquiettastes.Withallthisyellingandhowling,Ihaven'tbeenabletogetawinkofsleep.Iaskedforsomethingtoeat"—herehisvoicerosetoashrillnoteofprotest—"andthey
oughtmeabottleofmilk!"
Mr.Buttonsankdownuponachairnearhissonandconcealedhisfaceinhishands."Myheavens!"hemurmured,inanecstasyofhorror."Whatwillpeoplesay?WhatmustIdo?"
"You'llhavetotakehimhome,"insistedthenurse—"immediately!"
Agrotesquepictureformeditselfwithdreadfulclaritybeforetheeyesofthetorturedman—apictureofhimselfwalkingthroughthecrowdedstreetsofthecitywiththisappallingapparitionstalkingbyhisside."Ican't.Ican't,"hemoaned.
Peoplewouldstoptospeaktohim,andwhatwashegoingtosay?Hewouldhavetointroducethis—thisseptuagenarian:"Thisismyson,bornearlythismorning."Andthentheoldmanwouldgatherhisblanketaroundhimandtheywouldplodon,pastthebustlingstores,theslavemarket—foradarkinstantMr.Buttonwishedpassionatelythathissonwasblack—pasttheluxurioushousesoftheresidentialdistrict,pastthehomefortheaged...
"Come!Pullyourselftogether,"commandedthenurse.
"Seehere,"theoldmanannouncedsuddenly,"ifyouthinkI'mgoingtowalkhomeinthisblanket,you'reentirelymistaken."
"Babiesalwayshaveblankets."
Withamaliciouscrackletheoldmanheldupasmallwhiteswaddlinggarment."Look!"hequavered."Thisiswhattheyhadreadyforme."
"Babiesalwayswearthose,"saidthenurseprimly.
"Well,"saidtheoldman,"thisbaby'snotgoingtowearanythinginabouttwominutes.Thisblanketitches.Theymightatleasthavegivenmeasheet."
"Keepiton!Keepiton!"saidMr.Buttonhurriedly.Heturnedtothenurse."What'llIdo?"
"Godowntownandbuyyoursonsomeclothes."
Mr.Button'sson'svoicefollowedhimdownintothehall:"Andacane,father.Iwanttohaveacane."
Mr.Buttonbangedtheouterdoorsavagely...
Ⅱ
"Good-morning,"Mr.Buttonsaid,nervously,totheclerkintheChesapeakeDryGoodsCompany."Iwanttobuysomeclothesformychild."
"Howoldisyourchild,sir?"
"Aboutsixhours,"answeredMr.Button,withoutdueconsideration.
"Babies'supplydepartmentintherear."
"Why,Idon'tthink—I'mnotsurethat'swhatIwant.It's—he'sanunusuallylarge-sizechild.Ecceptionally—ah—large."
"Theyhavethelargestchild'ssizes."
"Whereistheboys'department?"inquiredMr.Button,shiftinghisgrounddesperately.Hefeltthattheclerkmustsurelyscenthisshamefulsecret.
"Righthere."
"Well—"Hehesitated.Thenotionofdressinghissoninmen'sclotheswasrepugnanttohim.If,say,hecouldonlyfindaverylargeboy'ssuit,hemightcutoffthatlongandawfulbeard,dyethewhitehair
own,andthusmanagetoconcealtheworst,andtoretainsomethingofhisownself-respect—nottomentionhispositioninBaltimoresociety.
Butafranticinspectionoftheboys'departmentrevealednosuitstofitthenew-bornButton.Heblamedthestore,ofcourse—insuchcasesitisthethingtoblamethestore.
"Howolddidyousaythatboyofyourswas?"demandedtheclerkcuriously.
"He's—sixteen."
"Oh,Ibegyourpardon.Ithoughtyousaidsixhours.You'llfindtheyouths'departmentinthenextaisle."
Mr.Buttonturnedmiserablyaway.Thenhestopped,
ightened,andpointedhisfingertowardadresseddummyinthewindowdisplay."There!"heexclaimed."I'lltakethatsuit,outthereonthedummy."
Theclerkstared."Why,"heprotested,"that'snotachild'ssuit.Atleastitis,butit'sforfancydress.Youcouldwearityourself!"
"Wrapitup,"insistedhiscustomernervously."That'swhatIwant."
Theastonishedclerkobeyed.www.chuanyue1.com
BackatthehospitalMr.Buttonenteredthenurseryandalmostthrewthepackageathisson."Here'syourclothes,"hesnappedout.
Theoldmanuntiedthepackageandviewedthecontentswithaquizzicaleye.
"Theylooksortoffunnytome,"hecomplained."Idon'twanttobemadeamonkeyof—"
"You'vemadeamonkeyofme!"retortedMr.Buttonfiercely."Neveryoumindhowfunnyyoulook.Putthemon—orI'll—orI'llspankyou."Heswalloweduneasilyatthepenultimateword,feelingneverthelessthatitwastheproperthingtosay.
"Allright,father"—thiswithagrotesquesimulationoffilialrespect—"you'velivedlonger;youknowbest.Justasyousay."
Asbefore,thesoundoftheword"father"causedMr.Buttontostartviolently.
"Andhurry."
"I'mhurrying,father."
WhenhissonwasdressedMr.Buttonregardedhimwithdepression.Thecostumeconsistedofdottedsocks,pinkpants,andabeltedblousewithawidewhitecollar.Overthelatterwavedthelongwhitishbeard,droopingalmosttothewaist.Theeffectwasnotgood.
"Wait!"
Mr.Buttonseizedahospitalshearsandwiththreequicksnapsamputatedalargesectionofthebeard.Butevenwiththisimprovementtheensemblefellfarshortofperfection.Theremaining
ushofscragglyhair,thewateryeyes,theancientteeth,seemedoddlyoutoftonewiththegayetyofthecostume.Mr.Button,however,wasobdurate—heheldouthishand."Comealong!"hesaidsternly.
Hissontookthehandtrustingly."Whatareyougoingtocallme,dad?"hequaveredastheywalkedfromthenursery—"just'baby'forawhile?tillyouthinkofabettername?"
Mr.Buttongrunted."Idon'tknow,"heansweredharshly."Ithinkwe'llcallyouMethuselah."
Ⅲ
EvenafterthenewadditiontotheButtonfamilyhadhadhishaircutshortandthendyedtoasparseunnaturalblack,hadhadhisfaceshavedsoclosethatitglistened,andhadbeenattiredinsmall-boyclothesmadetoorderbyaflabbergastedtailor,itwasimpossibleforMr.Buttontoignorethefactthathissonwasapoorexcuseforafirstfamilybaby.Despitehisagedstoop,BenjaminButton—foritwasbythisnametheycalledhiminsteadofbytheappropriatebutinvidiousMethuselah—wasfivefeeteightinchestall.Hisclothesdidnotconcealthis,nordidtheclippinganddyeingofhiseye
owsdisguisethefactthattheeyesunderneathwerefadedandwateryandtired.Infact,thebaby-nursewhohadbeenengagedinadvanceleftthehouseafteronelook,inastateofconsiderableindignation.
ButMr.Buttonpersistedinhisunwaveringpurpose.Benjaminwasababy,andababyheshouldremain.AtfirsthedeclaredthatifBenjamindidn'tlikewarmmilkhecouldgowithoutfoodaltogether,buthewasfinallyprevailedupontoallowhisson
eadandbutter,andevenoatmealbywayofacompromise.Onedayhe
oughthomearattleand,givingittoBenjamin,insistedinnouncertaintermsthatheshould"playwithit,"whereupontheoldmantookitwithawearyexpressionandcouldbeheardjinglingitobedientlyatintervalsthroughouttheday.
Therecanbenodoubt,though,thattherattleboredhim,andthathefoundotherandmoresoothingamusementswhenhewasleftalone.Forinstance,Mr.Buttondiscoveredonedaythatduringtheprecedingweekhehadsmokedmorecigarsthaneverbefore—aphenomenonwhichwasexplainedafewdayslaterwhen,enteringthenurseryunexpectedly,hefoundtheroomfulloffaintbluehazeandBenjamin,withaguiltyexpressiononhisface,tryingtoconcealthebuttofadarkHavana.This,ofcourse,calledforaseverespanking,butMr.Buttonfoundthathecouldnot
inghimselftoadministerit.Hemerelywarnedhissonthathewould"stunthisgrowth."
Neverthelesshepersistedinhisattitude.He
oughthomeleadsoldiers,he
oughttoytrains,he
oughtlargepleasantanimalsmadeofcotton,and,toperfecttheillusionwhichhewascreating—forhimselfatleast—hepassionatelydemandedoftheclerkinthetoy-storewhether"thepaintwouldcomeoffthepinkduckifthebabyputitinhismouth."But,despiteallhisfather'sefforts,Benjaminrefusedtobeinterested.Hewouldstealdownthebackstairsandreturntothenurserywithavolumeofthe"Encyclop?dia
itannica,"overwhichhewouldporethroughanafternoon,whilehiscottoncowsandhisNoah'sarkwereleftneglectedonthefloor.AgainstsuchastubbornnessMr.Button'seffortswereoflittleavail.
ThesensationcreatedinBaltimorewas,atfirst,prodigious.WhatthemishapwouldhavecosttheButtonsandtheirkinsfolksociallycannotbedetermined,fortheout
eakoftheCivilWardrewthecity'sattentiontootherthings.Afewpeoplewhowereunfailinglypoliterackedtheir
ainsforcomplimentstogivetotheparents—andfinallyhitupontheingeniousdeviceofdeclaringthatthebabyresembledhisgrandfather,afactwhich,duetothestandardstateofdecaycommontoallmenofseventy,couldnotbedenied.Mr.andMrs.RogerButtonwerenotpleased,andBenjamin'sgrandfatherwasfuriouslyinsulted.
Benjamin,onceheleftthehospital,tooklifeashefoundit.Severalsmallboyswere
oughttoseehim,andhespentastiff-jointedafternoontryingtoworkupaninterestintopsandmarbles—heevenmanaged,quiteaccidentally,to
eakakitchenwindowwithastonefromaslingshot,afeatwhichsecretlydelightedhisfather.
ThereafterBenjamincontrivedto
eaksomethingeveryday,buthedidthesethingsonlybecausetheywereexpectedofhim,andbecausehewasbynatureobliging.
Whenhisgrandfather'sinitialantagonismworeoff,Benjaminandthatgentlemantookenormouspleasureinoneanother'scompany.Theywouldsitforhours,thesetwosofarapartinageandexperience,and,likeoldcronies,discusswithtirelessmonotonythesloweventsoftheday.Benjaminfeltmoreateaseinhisgrandfather'spresencethaninhisparents'—theyseemedalwayssomewhatinaweofhimand,despitethedictatorialauthoritytheyexercisedoverhim,frequentlyaddressedhimas"Mr."
Hewasaspuzzledasanyoneelseattheapparentlyadvancedageofhismindandbodyatbirth.Hereaduponitinthemedicaljournal,butfoundthatnosuchcasehadbeenpreviouslyrecorded.Athisfather'surginghemadeanhonestattempttoplaywithotherboys,andfrequentlyhejoinedinthemildergames—footballshookhimuptoomuch,andhefearedthatincaseofafracturehisancientboneswouldrefusetoknit.
Whenhewasfivehewassenttokindergarten,wherehewasinitiatedintotheartofpastinggreenpaperonorangepaper,ofweavingcoloredmapsandmanufacturingeternalcardboardnecklaces.Hewasinclinedtodrowseofftosleepinthemiddleofthesetasks,ahabitwhichbothirritatedandfrightenedhisyoungteacher.Tohisreliefshecomplainedtohisparents,andhewasremovedfromtheschool.TheRogerButtonstoldtheirfriendsthattheyfelthewastooyoung.
Bythetimehewastwelveyearsoldhisparentshadgrownusedtohim.Indeed,sostrongistheforceofcustomthattheynolongerfeltthathewasdifferentfromanyotherchild—exceptwhensomecuriousanomalyremindedthemofthefact.Butonedayafewweeksafterhistwelfthbirthday,whilelookinginthemirror,Benjaminmade,orthoughthemade,anastonishingdiscovery.Didhiseyesdeceivehim,orhadhishairturnedinthedozenyearsofhislifefromwhitetoiron-grayunderitsconcealingdye?Wasthenetworkofwrinklesonhisfacebecominglesspronounced?Washisskinhealthierandfirmer,withevenatouchofruddywintercolor?Hecouldnottell.Heknewthathenolongerstoopedandthathisphysicalconditionhadimprovedsincetheearlydaysofhislife.
"Canitbe—?"hethoughttohimself,or,rather,scarcelydaredtothink.
Hewenttohisfather."Iamgrown,"heannounceddeterminedly."Iwanttoputonlongtrousers."
Hisfatherhesitated."Well,"hesaidfinally,"Idon'tknow.Fourteenistheageforputtingonlongtrousers—andyouareonlytwelve."
"Butyou'llhavetoadmit,"protestedBenjamin,"thatI'mbigformyage."
Hisfatherlookedathimwithillusoryspeculation."Oh,I'mnotsosureofthat,"hesaid."IwasasbigasyouwhenIwastwelve."
Thiswasnottrue—itwasallpartofRogerButton'ssilentagreementwithhimselftobelieveinhisson'snormality.
Finallyacompromisewasreached.Benjaminwastocontinuetodyehishair.Hewastomakeabetterattempttoplaywithboysofhisownage.Hewasnottowearhisspectaclesorcarryacaneinthestreet.Inreturnfortheseconcessionshewasallowedhisfirstsuitoflongtrousers...
Ⅳ
OfthelifeofBenjaminButtonbetweenhistwelfthandtwenty-firstyearIintendtosaylittle.Sufficetorecordthattheywereyearsofnormalungrowth.WhenBenjaminwaseighteenhewaserectasamanoffifty;hehadmorehairanditwasofadarkgray;hisstepwasfirm,hisvoicehadlostitscrackedquaveranddescendedtoahealthybaritone.SohisfathersenthimuptoConnecticuttotakeexaminationsforentrancetoYaleCollege.Benjaminpassedhisexaminationandbecameamemberofthefreshmanclass.
OnthethirddayfollowinghismatriculationhereceivedanotificationfromMr.Hart,thecollegeregistrar,tocallathisofficeandarrangehisschedule.Benjamin,glancinginthemirror,decidedthathishairneededanewapplicationofits
owndye,butananxiousinspectionofhisbureaudrawerdisclosedthatthedyebottlewasnotthere.Thenheremembered—hehademptieditthedaybeforeandthrownitaway.
Hewasinadilemma.Hewasdueattheregistrar'sinfiveminutes.Thereseemedtobenohelpforit—hemustgoashewas.Hedid.
"Good-morning,"saidtheregistrarpolitely."You'vecometoinquireaboutyourson."
"Why,asamatteroffact,myname'sButton—"beganBenjamin,butMr.Hartcuthimoff.
"I'mverygladtomeetyou,Mr.Button.I'mexpectingyoursonhereanyminute."
"That'sme!"burstoutBenjamin."I'mafreshman."
"What!"
"I'mafreshman."
"Surelyyou'rejoking."
"Notatall."
Theregistrarfrownedandglancedatacardbeforehim."Why,IhaveMr.BenjaminButton'sagedownhereaseighteen."
"That'smyage,"assertedBenjamin,flushingslightly.
Theregistrareyedhimwearily."Nowsurely,Mr.Button,youdon'texpectmetobelievethat."
Benjaminsmiledwearily."Iameighteen,"herepeated.
Theregistrarpointedsternlytothedoor."Getout,"hesaid."Getoutofcollegeandgetoutoftown.Youareadangerouslunatic."
"Iameighteen."
Mr.Hartopenedthedoor."Theidea!"heshouted."Amanofyouragetryingtoenterhereasafreshman.Eighteenyearsold,areyou?Well,I'llgiveyoueighteenminutestogetoutoftown."
BenjaminButtonwalkedwithdignityfromtheroom,andhalfadozenundergraduates,whowerewaitinginthehall,followedhimcuriouslywiththeireyes.Whenhehadgonealittlewayheturnedaround,facedtheinfuriatedregistrar,whowasstillstandinginthedoorway,andrepeatedinafirmvoice:"Iameighteenyearsold."
Toachorusoftitterswhichwentupfromthegroupofundergraduates,Benjaminwalkedaway.
Buthewasnotfatedtoescapesoeasily.Onhismelancholywalktotherailroadstationhefoundthathewasbeingfollowedbyagroup,thenbyaswarm,andfinallybyadensemassofundergraduates.ThewordhadgonearoundthatalunatichadpassedtheentranceexaminationsforYaleandattemptedtopalmhimselfoffasayouthofeighteen.Afeverofexcitementpermeatedthecollege.Menranhatlessoutofclasses,thefootballteamabandoneditspracticeandjoinedthemob,professors'wiveswithbonnetsawryandbustlesoutofposition,ranshoutingaftertheprocession,fromwhichproceededacontinualsuccessionofremarksaimedatthetendersensibilitiesofBenjaminButton.
"HemustbetheWanderingJew!"
"Heoughttogotoprepschoolathisage!"
"Lookattheinfantprodigy!"
"Hethoughtthiswastheoldmen'shome."
"GouptoHarvard!"
Benjaminincreasedhisgait,andsoonhewasrunning.Hewouldshowthem!HewouldgotoHarvard,andthentheywouldregrettheseill-consideredtaunts!
SafelyonboardthetrainforBaltimore,heputhisheadfromthewindow."You'llregretthis!"heshouted.
"Ha-ha!"theundergraduateslaughed."Ha-ha-ha!"ItwasthebiggestmistakethatYaleCollegehadevermade...
Ⅴ
In1880BenjaminButtonwastwentyyearsold,andhesignalizedhisbirthdaybygoingtoworkforhisfatherinRogerButton&Co.,WholesaleHardware.Itwasinthatsameyearthathebegan"goingoutsocially"—thatis,hisfatherinsistedontakinghimtoseveralfashionabledances.RogerButtonwasnowfifty,andheandhissonweremoreandmorecompanionable—infact,sinceBenjaminhadceasedtodyehishair(whichwasstillgrayish)theyappearedaboutthesameage,andcouldhavepassedfor
others.
OnenightinAugusttheygotintothephaetonattiredintheirfull-dresssuitsanddroveouttoadanceattheShevlins'countryhouse,situatedjustoutsideofBaltimore.Itwasagorgeousevening.Afullmoondrenchedtheroadtothelustrelesscolorofplatinum,andlate-bloomingharvestflowers
eathedintothemotionlessairaromasthatwerelikelow,half-heardlaughter.Theopencountry,carpetedforrodsaroundwith
ightwheat,wastranslucentasintheday.Itwasalmostimpossiblenottobeaffectedbythesheerbeautyofthesky—almost.
"There'sagreatfutureinthedry-goodsbusiness,"RogerButtonwassaying.Hewasnotaspiritualman—hisestheticsensewasrudimentary.
"Oldfellowslikemecan'tlearnnewtricks,"heobservedprofoundly."It'syouyoungsterswithenergyandvitalitythathavethegreatfuturebeforeyou."
FaruptheroadthelightsoftheShevlins'countryhousedriftedintoview,andpresentlytherewasasighingsoundthatcreptpersistentlytowardthem—itmighthavebeenthefineplaintofviolinsortherustleofthesilverwheatunderthemoon.
Theypulledupbehindahandsome
oughamwhosepassengersweredisembarkingatthedoor.Aladygotout,thenanelderlygentleman,thenanotheryounglady,beautifulassin.Benjaminstarted;analmostchemicalchangeseemedtodissolveandrecomposetheveryelementsofhisbody.Arigorpassedoverhim,bloodroseintohischeeks,hisforehead,andtherewasasteadythumpinginhisears.Itwasfirstlove.
Thegirlwasslenderandfrail,withhairthatwasashenunderthemoonandhoney-coloredunderthesputteringgas-lampsoftheporch.OverhershoulderswasthrownaSpanishmantillaofsoftestyellow,butterfliedinblack;herfeetwereglitteringbuttonsatthehemofherbustleddress.
RogerButtonleanedovertohisson."That,"hesaid,"isyoungHildegardeMoncrief,thedaughterofGeneralMoncrief."
Benjaminnoddedcoldly."Prettylittlething,"hesaidindifferently.Butwhenthenegroboyhadledthebuggyaway,headded:"Dad,youmightintroducemetoher."
TheyapproachedagroupofwhichMissMoncriefwasthecentre.Rearedintheoldtradition,shecourtesiedlowbeforeBenjamin.Yes,hemighthaveadance.Hethankedherandwalkedaway—staggeredaway.
Theintervaluntilthetimeforhisturnshouldarrivedraggeditselfoutinterminably.Hestoodclosetothewall,silent,inscrutable,watchingwithmurderouseyestheyoungbloodsofBaltimoreastheyeddiedaroundHildegardeMoncrief,passionateadmirationintheirfaces.HowobnoxioustheyseemedtoBenjamin;howintolerablyrosy!Theircurling
ownwhiskersarousedinhimafeelingequivalenttoindigestion.
Butwhenhisowntimecame,andhedriftedwithheroutuponthechangingfloortothemusicofthelatestwaltzfromParis,hisjealousiesandanxietiesmeltedfromhimlikeamantleofsnow.Blindwithenchantment,hefeltthatlifewasjustbeginning.
"Youandyour
othergotherejustaswedid,didn'tyou?"askedHildegarde,lookingupathimwitheyesthatwerelike
ightblueenamel.
Benjaminhesitated.Ifshetookhimforhisfather's
other,woulditbebesttoenlightenher?HerememberedhisexperienceatYale,sohedecidedagainstit.Itwouldberudetocontradictalady;itwouldbecriminaltomarthisexquisiteoccasionwiththegrotesquestoryofhisorigin.Later,perhaps.Sohenodded,smiled,listened,washappy.
"Ilikemenofyourage,"Hildegardetoldhim."Youngboysaresoidiotic.Theytellmehowmuchchampagnetheydrinkatcollege,andhowmuchmoneytheyloseplayingcards.Menofyourageknowhowtoappreciatewomen."
Benjaminfelthimselfonthevergeofaproposal—withanefforthechokedbacktheimpulse.
"You'rejusttheromanticage,"shecontinued—"fifty.Twenty-fiveistooworldly-wise;thirtyisapttobepalefromoverwork;fortyistheageoflongstoriesthattakeawholecigartotell;sixtyis—oh,sixtyistoonearseventy;butfiftyisthemellowage.Ilovefifty."
FiftyseemedtoBenjaminagloriousage.Helongedpassionatelytobefifty.
"I'vealwayssaid,"wentonHildegarde,"thatI'drathermarryamanoffiftyandbetakencareofthanmarryamanofthirtyandtakecareofhim."
ForBenjamintherestoftheeveningwasbathedinahoney-coloredmist.Hildegardegavehimtwomoredances,andtheydiscoveredthattheyweremarvellouslyinaccordonallthequestionsoftheday.ShewastogodrivingwithhimonthefollowingSunday,andthentheywoulddiscussallthesequestionsfurther.
Goinghomeinthephaetonjustbeforethecrackofdawn,whenthefirstbeeswerehummingandthefadingmoonglimmeredinthecooldew,Benjaminknewvaguelythathisfatherwasdiscussingwholesalehardware.
"...Andwhatdoyouthinkshouldmeritourbiggestattentionafterhammersandnails?"theelderButtonwassaying.
"Love,"repliedBenjaminabsent-mindedly.
"Lugs?"exclaimedRogerButton."Why,I'vejustcoveredthequestionoflugs."
Benjaminregardedhimwithdazedeyesjustastheeasternskywassuddenlycrackedwithlight,andanorioleyawnedpiercinglyinthequickeningtrees...
Ⅵ
When,sixmonthslater,theengagementofMissHildegardeMoncrieftoMr.BenjaminButtonwasmadeknown(Isay"madeknown,"forGeneralMoncriefdeclaredhewouldratherfalluponhisswordthanannounceit),theexcitementinBaltimoresocietyreachedafeverishpitch.ThealmostforgottenstoryofBenjamin'sbirthwasrememberedandsentoutuponthewindsofscandalinpicaresqueandincredibleforms.ItwassaidthatBenjaminwasreallythefatherofRogerButton,thathewashis
otherwhohadbeeninprisonforfortyyears,thathewasJohnWilkesBoothindisguise—and,finally,thathehadtwosmallconicalhornssproutingfromhishead.
TheSundaysupplementsoftheNewYorkpapersplayedupthecasewithfascinatingsketcheswhichshowedtheheadofBenjaminButtonattachedtoafish,toasnake,and,finally,toabodyofsolid
ass.Hebecameknown,journalistically,astheMysteryManofMaryland.Butthetruestory,asisusuallythecase,hadaverysmallcirculation.
However,everyoneagreedwithGeneralMoncriefthatitwas"criminal"foralovelygirlwhocouldhavemarriedanybeauinBaltimoretothrowherselfintothearmsofamanwhowasassuredlyfifty.InvainMr.RogerButtonpublishedhisson'sbirthcertificateinlargetypeintheBaltimoreBlaze.Noonebelievedit.YouhadonlytolookatBenjaminandsee.
Onthepartofthetwopeoplemostconcernedtherewasnowavering.SomanyofthestoriesaboutherfiancéwerefalsethatHildegarderefusedstubbornlytobelieveeventhetrueone.InvainGeneralMoncriefpointedouttoherthehighmortalityamongmenoffifty—or,atleast,amongmenwholookedfifty;invainhetoldheroftheinstabilityofthewholesalehardwarebusiness.Hildegardehadchosentomarryformellowness—andmarryshedid...
Ⅶ
Inoneparticular,atleast,thefriendsofHildegardeMoncriefweremistaken.Thewholesalehardwarebusinessprosperedamazingly.InthefifteenyearsbetweenBenjaminButton'smarriagein1880andhisfather'sretirementin1895,thefamilyfortunewasdoubled—andthiswasduelargelytotheyoungermemberofthefirm.
Needlesstosay,Baltimoreeventuallyreceivedthecoupletoitsbosom.EvenoldGeneralMoncriefbecamereconciledtohisson-in-lawwhenBenjamingavehimthemoneyto
ingouthis"HistoryoftheCivilWar"intwentyvolumes,whichhadbeenrefusedbynineprominentpublishers.
InBenjaminhimselffifteenyearshadwroughtmanychanges.Itseemedtohimthatthebloodflowedwithnewvigorthroughhisveins.Itbegantobeapleasuretoriseinthemorning,towalkwithanactivestepalongthebusy,sunnystreet,toworkuntiringlywithhisshipmentsofhammersandhiscargoesofnails.Itwasin1890thatheexecutedhisfamousbusinesscoup:he
oughtupthesuggestionthatallnailsusedinnailinguptheboxesinwhichnailsareshipped,arethepropertyoftheshippee,aproposalwhichbecameastatute,wasapprovedbyChiefJusticeFossile,andsavedRogerButtonandCompany,WholesaleHardware,morethansixhundrednailseveryyear.
Inaddition,Benjamindiscoveredthathewasbecomingmoreandmoreattractedbythegaysideoflife.ItwastypicalofhisgrowingenthusiasmforpleasurethathewasthefirstmaninthecityofBaltimoretoownandrunanautomobile.Meetinghimonthestreet,hiscontemporarieswouldstareenviouslyatthepicturehemadeofhealthandvitality.
"Heseemstogrowyoungereveryyear,"theywouldremark.AndifoldRogerButton,nowsixty-fiveyearsold,hadfailedatfirsttogiveaproperwelcometohissonheatonedatlastbybestowingonhimwhatamountedtoadulation.
Andherewecometoanunpleasantsubjectwhichitwillbewelltopassoverasquicklyaspossible.TherewasonlyonethingthatworriedBenjaminButton:hiswifehadceasedtoattracthim.
AtthattimeHildegardewasawomanofthirty-five,withason,Roscoe,fourteenyearsold.IntheearlydaysoftheirmarriageBenjaminhadworshippedher.But,astheyearspassed,herhoney-coloredhairbecameanunexciting
own,theblueenamelofhereyesassumedtheaspectofcheapcrockery—moreover,andmostofall,shehadbecometoosettledinherways,tooplacid,toocontent,tooanemicinherexcitements,andtoosoberinhertaste.Asa
ideithadbeenshewhohad"dragged"Benjamintodancesanddinners—nowconditionswerereversed.Shewentoutsociallywithhim,butwithoutenthusiasm,devouredalreadybythateternalinertiawhichcomestolivewitheachofusonedayandstayswithustotheend.
Benjamin'sdiscontentwaxedstronger.Attheout
eakoftheSpanish-AmericanWarin1898hishomehadforhimsolittlecharmthathedecidedtojointhearmy.Withhisbusinessinfluenceheobtainedacommissionascaptain,andprovedsoadaptabletotheworkthathewasmadeamajor,andfinallyalieutenant-coloneljustintimetoparticipateinthecele
atedchargeupSanJuanHill.Hewasslightlywounded,andreceivedamedal.
Benjaminhadbecomesoattachedtotheactivityandexcitementofarmylifethatheregrettedtogiveitup,buthisbusinessrequiredattention,soheresignedhiscommissionandcamehome.Hewasmetatthestationbya
assbandandescortedtohishouse.
Ⅷ
Hildegarde,wavingalargesilkflag,greetedhimontheporch,andevenashekissedherhefeltwithasinkingoftheheartthatthesethreeyearshadtakentheirtoll.Shewasawomanoffortynow,withafaintskirmishlineofgrayhairsinherhead.Thesightdepressedhim.
Upinhisroomhesawhisreflectioninthefamiliarmirror—hewentcloserandexaminedhisownfacewithanxiety,comparingitafteramomentwithaphotographofhimselfinuniformtakenjustbeforethewar.
"GoodLord!"hesaidaloud.Theprocesswascontinuing.Therewasnodoubtofit—helookednowlikeamanofthirty.Insteadofbeingdelighted,hewasuneasy—hewasgrowingyounger.Hehadhithertohopedthatoncehereachedabodilyageequivalenttohisageinyears,thegrotesquephenomenonwhichhadmarkedhisbirthwouldceasetofunction.Heshuddered.Hisdestinyseemedtohimawful,incredible.
Whenhecamedown-stairsHildegardewaswaitingforhim.Sheappearedannoyed,andhewonderedifshehadatlastdiscoveredthattherewassomethingamiss.Itwaswithanefforttorelievethetensionbetweenthemthathe
oachedthematteratdinnerinwhatheconsideredadelicateway.
"Well,"heremarkedlightly,"everybodysaysIlookyoungerthanever."
Hildegarderegardedhimwithscorn.Shesniffed."Doyouthinkit'sanythingtoboastabout?"
"I'mnotboasting,"heasserteduncomfortably.
Shesniffedagain."Theidea,"shesaid,andafteramoment:"Ishouldthinkyou'dhaveenoughpridetostopit."
"HowcanI?"hedemanded.
"I'mnotgoingtoarguewithyou,"sheretorted."Butthere'sarightwayofdoingthingsandawrongway.Ifyou'vemadeupyourmindtobedifferentfromeverybodyelse,Idon'tsupposeIcanstopyou,butIreallydon'tthinkit'sveryconsiderate."
"But,Hildegarde,Ican'thelpit."
"Youcantoo.You'resimplystubborn.Youthinkyoudon'twanttobelikeanyoneelse.Youalwayshavebeenthatway,andyoualwayswillbe.Butjustthinkhowitwouldbeifeveryoneelselookedatthingsasyoudo—whatwouldtheworldbelike?"
AsthiswasaninaneandunanswerableargumentBenjaminmadenoreply,andfromthattimeonachasmbegantowidenbetweenthem.Hewonderedwhatpossiblefascinationshehadeverexercisedoverhim.
Toaddtothe
each,hefound,asthenewcenturygatheredheadway,thathisthirstforgayetygrewstronger.NeverapartyofanykindinthecityofBaltimorebuthewasthere,dancingwiththeprettiestoftheyoungmarriedwomen,chattingwiththemostpopularofthedébutantes,andfindingtheircompanycharming,whilehiswife,adowagerofevilomen,satamongthechaperons,nowinhaughtydisapproval,andnowfollowinghimwithsolemn,puzzled,andreproachfuleyes.
"Look!"peoplewouldremark."Whatapity!Ayoungfellowthatagetiedtoawomanofforty-five.Hemustbetwentyyearsyoungerthanhiswife."Theyhadforgotten—aspeopleinevitablyforget—thatbackin1880theirmammasandpapashadalsoremarkedaboutthissameill-matchedpair.
Benjamin'sgrowingunhappinessathomewascompensatedforbyhismanynewinterests.Hetookupgolfandmadeagreatsuccessofit.Hewentinfordancing:in1906hewasanexpertat"TheBoston,"andin1908hewasconsideredproficientatthe"Maxixe,"whilein1909his"CastleWalk"wastheenvyofeveryyoungmanintown.
Hissocialactivities,ofcourse,interferedtosomeextentwithhisbusiness,butthenhehadworkedhardatwholesalehardwarefortwenty-fiveyearsandfeltthathecouldsoonhanditontohisson,Roscoe,whohadrecentlygraduatedfromHarvard.
Heandhissonwere,infact,oftenmistakenforeachother.ThispleasedBenjamin—hesoonforgottheinsidiousfearwhichhadcomeoverhimonhisreturnfromtheSpanish-AmericanWar,andgrewtotakeana?vepleasureinhisappearance.Therewasonlyoneflyinthedeliciousointment—hehatedtoappearinpublicwithhiswife.Hildegardewasalmostfifty,andthesightofhermadehimfeelabsurd...
Ⅸ
OneSeptemberdayin1910—afewyearsafterRogerButton&Co.,WholesaleHardware,hadbeenhandedovertoyoungRoscoeButton—aman,apparentlyabouttwentyyearsold,enteredhimselfasafreshmanatHarvardUniversityinCam
idge.Hedidnotmakethemistakeofannouncingthathewouldneverseefiftyagainnordidhementionthefactthathissonhadbeengraduatedfromthesameinstitutiontenyearsbefore.
Hewasadmitted,andalmostimmediatelyattainedaprominentpositionintheclass,partlybecauseheseemedalittleolderthantheotherfreshmen,whoseaverageagewasabouteighteen.
ButhissuccesswaslargelyduetothefactthatinthefootballgamewithYaleheplayedso
illiantly,withsomuchdashandwithsuchacold,remorselessangerthathescoredseventouchdownsandfourteenfieldgoalsforHarvard,andcausedoneentireelevenofYalementobecarriedsinglyfromthefield,unconscious.Hewasthemostcele
atedmanincollege.
Strangetosay,inhisthirdorjunioryearhewasscarcelyableto"make"theteam.Thecoachessaidthathehadlostweight,anditseemedtothemoreobservantamongthemthathewasnotquiteastallasbefore.Hemadenotouchdowns—indeed,hewasretainedontheteamchieflyinhopethathisenormousreputationwould
ingterroranddisorganizationtotheYaleteam.
Inhissenioryearhedidnotmaketheteamatall.Hehadgrownsoslightandfrailthatonedayhewastakenbysomesophomoresforafreshman,anincidentwhichhumiliatedhimterribly.Hebecameknownassomethingofaprodigy—aseniorwhowassurelynomorethansixteen—andhewasoftenshockedattheworldlinessofsomeofhisclassmates.Hisstudiesseemedhardertohim—hefeltthattheyweretooadvanced.HehadheardhisclassmatesspeakofSt.Midas',thefamouspreparatoryschool,atwhichsomanyofthemhadpreparedforcollege,andhedeterminedafterhisgraduationtoenterhimselfatSt.Midas',wheretheshelteredlifeamongboyshisownsizewouldbemorecongenialtohim.
Uponhisgraduationin1914hewenthometoBaltimorewithhisHarvarddiplomainhispocket.HildegardewasnowresidinginItaly,soBenjaminwenttolivewithhisson,Roscoe.Butthoughhewaswelcomedinageneralway,therewasobviouslynoheartinessinRoscoe'sfeelingtowardhim—therewasevenperceptibleatendencyonhisson'sparttothinkthatBenjamin,ashemopedaboutthehouseinadolescentmooniness,wassomewhatintheway.RoscoewasmarriednowandprominentinBaltimorelife,andhewantednoscandaltocreepoutinconnectionwithhisfamily.
Benjamin,nolongerpersonagratawiththedébutantesandyoungercollegeset,foundhimselfleftmuchalone,exceptforthecompanionshipofthreeorfourfifteen-year-oldboysintheneighborhood.HisideaofgoingtoSt.Midas'schoolrecurredtohim.
"Say,"hesaidtoRoscoeoneday,"I'vetoldyouoverandoverthatIwanttogotoprepschool."
"Well,go,then,"repliedRoscoeshortly.Thematterwasdistastefultohim,andhewishedtoavoidadiscussion.
"Ican'tgoalone,"saidBenjaminhelplessly."You'llhavetoentermeandtakemeupthere."
"Ihaven'tgottime,"declaredRoscoea
uptly.Hiseyesnarrowedandhelookeduneasilyathisfather."Asamatteroffact,"headded,"you'dbetternotgoonwiththisbusinessmuchlonger.Youbetterpullupshort.Youbetter—youbetter"—hepausedandhisfacecrimsonedashesoughtforwords—"youbetterturnrightaroundandstartbacktheotherway.Thishasgonetoofartobeajoke.Itisn'tfunnyanylonger.You—youbehaveyourself!"
Benjaminlookedathim,onthevergeoftears.ωＷＷ.chuanyue1.coΜ
"Andanotherthing,"continuedRoscoe,"whenvisitorsareinthehouseIwantyoutocallme'Uncle'—not'Roscoe,'but'Uncle,'doyouunderstand?Itlooksabsurdforaboyoffifteentocallmebymyfirstname.Perhapsyou'dbettercallme'Uncle'allthetime,soyou'llgetusedtoit."
Withaharshlookathisfather,Roscoeturnedaway...
Ⅹ
Attheterminationofthisinterview,Benjaminwandereddismallyup-stairsandstaredathimselfinthemirror.Hehadnotshavedforthreemonths,buthecouldfindnothingonhisfacebutafaintwhitedownwithwhichitseemedunnecessarytomeddle.WhenhehadfirstcomehomefromHarvard,Roscoehadapproachedhimwiththepropositionthatheshouldweareye-glassesandimitationwhiskersgluedtohischeeks,andithadseemedforamomentthatthefarceofhisearlyyearswastoberepeated.Butwhiskershaditchedandmadehimashamed.HeweptandRoscoehadreluctantlyrelented.
Benjaminopenedabookofboys'stories,"TheBoyScoutsinBiminiBay,"andbegantoread.Buthefoundhimselfthinkingpersistentlyaboutthewar.AmericahadjoinedtheAlliedcauseduringtheprecedingmonth,andBenjaminwantedtoenlist,but,alas,sixteenwastheminimumage,andhedidnotlookthatold.Histrueage,whichwasfifty-seven,wouldhavedisqualifiedhim,anyway.
Therewasaknockathisdoor,andthebutlerappearedwithaletterbearingalargeofficiallegendinthecornerandaddressedtoMr.BenjaminButton.Benjamintoreitopeneagerly,andreadtheenclosurewithdelight.ItinformedhimthatmanyreserveofficerswhohadservedintheSpanish-AmericanWarwerebeingcalledbackintoservicewithahigherrank,anditenclosedhiscommissionas
igadier-generalintheUnitedStatesArmywithorderstoreportimmediately.
Benjaminjumpedtohisfeetfairlyquiveringwithenthusiasm.Thiswaswhathehadwanted.HeseizedhiscapandtenminuteslaterhehadenteredalargetailoringestablishmentonCharlesStreet,andaskedinhisuncertaintrebletobemeasuredforauniform.
"Wanttoplaysoldier,sonny?"demandedaclerk,casually.
Benjaminflushed."Say!NevermindwhatIwant!"heretortedangrily."Myname'sButtonandIliveonMt.VernonPlace,soyouknowI'mgoodforit."
"Well,"admittedtheclerk,hesitantly,"ifyou'renot,Iguessyourdaddyis,allright."
Benjaminwasmeasured,andaweeklaterhisuniformwascompleted.Hehaddifficultyinobtainingthepropergeneral'sinsigniabecausethedealerkeptinsistingtoBenjaminthataniceY.W.C.A.badgewouldlookjustaswellandbemuchmorefuntoplaywith.
SayingnothingtoRoscoe,heleftthehouseonenightandproceededbytraintoCampMosby,inSouthCarolina,wherehewastocommandaninfantry
igade.OnasultryAprildayheapproachedtheentrancetothecamp,paidoffthetaxicabwhichhad
oughthimfromthestation,andturnedtothesentryonguard.
"Getsomeonetohandlemyluggage!"hesaid
iskly.
Thesentryeyedhimreproachfully."Say,"heremarked,"whereyougoin'withthegeneral'sduds,sonny?"
Benjamin,veteranoftheSpanish-AmericanWar,whirleduponhimwithfireinhiseye,butwith,alas,achangingtreblevoice.
"Cometoattention!"hetriedtothunder;hepausedfor
eath—thensuddenlyhesawthesentrysnaphisheelstogetherand
inghisrifletothepresent.Benjaminconcealedasmileofgratification,butwhenheglancedaroundhissmilefaded.Itwasnothewhohadinspiredobedience,butanimposingartillerycolonelwhowasapproachingonhorseback.
"Colonel!"calledBenjaminshrilly.
Thecolonelcameup,drewrein,andlookedcoollydownathimwithatwinkleinhiseyes."Whoselittleboyareyou?"hedemandedkindly.
"I'llsoondarnwellshowyouwhoselittleboyIam!"retortedBenjamininaferociousvoice."Getdownoffthathorse!"
Thecolonelroaredwithlaughter.
"Youwanthim,eh,general?"
"Here!"criedBenjamindesperately."Readthis."Andhethrusthiscommissiontowardthecolonel.
Thecolonelreadit,hiseyespoppingfromtheirsockets.
"Where'dyougetthis?"hedemanded,slippingthedocumentintohisownpocket.
"IgotitfromtheGovernment,asyou'llsoonfindout!"
"Youcomealongwithme,"saidthecolonelwithapeculiarlook."We'llgouptoheadquartersandtalkthisover.Comealong."
Thecolonelturnedandbeganwalkinghishorseinthedirectionofheadquarters.TherewasnothingforBenjamintodobutfollowwithasmuchdignityaspossible—meanwhilepromisinghimselfasternrevenge.
Butthisrevengedidnotmaterialize.Twodayslater,however,hissonRoscoematerializedfromBaltimore,hotandcrossfromahastytrip,andescortedtheweepinggeneral,sansuniform,backtohishome.
Ⅺ
In1920RoscoeButton'sfirstchildwasborn.Duringtheattendantfestivities,however,noonethoughtit"thething"tomentionthatthelittlegrubbyboy,apparentlyabouttenyearsofagewhoplayedaroundthehousewithleadsoldiersandaminiaturecircus,wasthenewbaby'sowngrandfather.
Noonedislikedthelittleboywhosefresh,cheerfulfacewascrossedwithjustahintofsadness,buttoRoscoeButtonhispresencewasasourceoftorment.IntheidiomofhisgenerationRoscoedidnotconsiderthematter"efficient."Itseemedtohimthathisfather,inrefusingtolooksixty,hadnotbehavedlikea"redbloodedhe-man"—thiswasRoscoe'sfavoriteexpression—butinacuriousandperversemanner.Indeed,tothinkaboutthematterforasmuchasahalfanhourdrovehimtotheedgeofinsanity.Roscoebelievedthat"livewires"shouldkeepyoung,butcarryingitoutonsuchascalewas—was—wasinefficient.AndthereRoscoerested.
FiveyearslaterRoscoe'slittleboyhadgrownoldenoughtoplaychildishgameswithlittleBenjaminunderthesupervisionofthesamenurse.RoscoetookthembothtokindergartenonthesamedayandBenjaminfoundthatplayingwithlittlestripsofcoloredpaper,makingmatsandchainsandcuriousandbeautifuldesigns,wasthemostfascinatinggameintheworld.Oncehewasbadandhadtostandinthecorner—thenhecried—butforthemostpartthereweregayhoursinthecheerfulroom,withthesunlightcominginthewindowsandMissBailey'skindhandrestingforamomentnowandtheninhistousledhair.
Roscoe'ssonmovedupintothefirstgradeafterayear,butBenjaminstayedoninthekindergarten.Hewasveryhappy.Sometimeswhenothertotstalkedaboutwhattheywoulddowhentheygrewupashadowwouldcrosshislittlefaceasifinadim,childishwayherealizedthatthosewerethingsinwhichhewasnevertoshare.
Thedaysflowedoninmonotonouscontent.Hewentbackathirdyeartothekindergarten,buthewastoolittlenowtounderstandwhatthe
ightshiningstripsofpaperwerefor.Hecriedbecausetheotherboyswerebiggerthanheandhewasafraidofthem.Theteachertalkedtohim,butthoughhetriedtounderstandhecouldnotunderstandatall.
Hewastakenfromthekindergarten.Hisnurse,Nana,inherstarchedginghamdress,becamethecentreofhistinyworld.On
ightdaystheywalkedinthepark;Nanawouldpointatagreatgraymonsterandsay"elephant,"andBenjaminwouldsayitafterher,andwhenhewasbeingundressedforbedthatnighthewouldsayitoverandoveraloudtoher:"Elyphant,elyphant,elyphant."SometimesNanalethimjumponthebed,whichwasfun,becauseifyousatdownexactlyrightitwouldbounceyouuponyourfeetagain,andifyousaid"Ah"foralongtimewhileyoujumpedyougotaverypleasing
okenvocaleffect.
Helovedtotakeabigcanefromthehatrackandgoaroundhittingchairsandtableswithitandsaying:"Fight,fight,fight."Whentherewerepeopletheretheoldladieswouldcluckathim,whichinterestedhim,andtheyoungladieswouldtrytokisshim,whichhesubmittedtowithmildboredom.Andwhenthelongdaywasdoneatfiveo'clockhewouldgoup-stairswithNanaandbefedoatmealandnicesoftmushyfoodswithaspoon.
Therewerenotroublesomememoriesinhischildishsleep;notokencametohimofhis
avedaysatcollege,oftheglitteringyearswhenheflusteredtheheartsofmanygirls.Therewereonlythewhite,safewallsofhiscribandNanaandamanwhocametoseehimsometimes,andagreatbigorangeballthatNanapointedatjustbeforehistwilightbedhourandcalled"sun."Whenthesunwenthiseyesweresleepy—therewerenodreams,nodreamstohaunthim.
Thepast—thewildchargeattheheadofhismenupSanJuanHill;thefirstyearsofhismarriagewhenheworkedlateintothesummerduskdowninthebusycityforyoungHildegardewhomheloved;thedaysbeforethatwhenhesatsmokingfarintothenightinthegloomyoldButtonhouseonMonroeStreetwithhisgrandfather—allthesehadfadedlikeunsubstantialdreamsfromhismindasthoughtheyhadneverbeen.
Hedidnotremember.Hedidnotrememberclearlywhetherthemilkwaswarmorcoolathislastfeedingorhowthedayspassed—therewasonlyhiscribandNana'sfamiliarpresence.Andthenherememberednothing.Whenhewashungryhecried—thatwasall.Throughthenoonsandnightshe
eathedandoverhimthereweresoftmumblingsandmurmuringsthathescarcelyheard,andfaintlydifferentiatedsmells,andlightanddarkness.
Thenitwasalldark,andhiswhitecribandthedimfacesthatmovedabovehim,andthewarmsweetaromaofthemilk,fadedoutaltogetherfromhismind.
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