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Babbitt
Chapter XXXII
I
His wife was up when he came in. Did you have a
good time? she sniffed.
I did not. I had a rotten time! Anything else I got to
explain?
George, how can you speak like Oh, I dont know
whats come over you!
Good Lord, theres nothing come over me! Why do you
look for trouble all the time? He was warning himself,
Careful! Stop being so disagreeable. Course she feels it,
being left alone here all evening. But he forgot his
warning as she went on:
Why do you go out and see all sorts of strange
people? I suppose youll say youve been to another
committee-meeting this evening!
Nope. Ive been calling on a woman. We sat by the fire
and kidded each other and had a whale of a good time,
if you want to know!
Well From the way you say it, I suppose its my fault
you went there! I probably sent you!
You did!
Well, upon my word
You hate strange people as you call em. If you had
your way, Id be as much of an old stick-in-the-mud as
Howard Littlefield. You never want to have anybody with
any git to em at the house; you want a bunch of old stiffs
that sit around and gas about the weather. Youre doing
your level best to make me old. Well, let me tell you, Im
not going to have
Overwhelmed she bent to his unprecedented tirade,
and in answer she mourned:
Oh, dearest, I dont think thats true. I dont mean
to make you old, I know. Perhaps youre partly right.
Perhaps I am slow about getting acquainted with new
people. But when you think of all the dear good times
we have, and the supper-parties and the movies and
all
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Sinclair Lewis
With true masculine wiles he not only convinced himself
that she had injured him but, by the loudness of his voice
and the brutality of his attack, he convinced her also, and
presently he had her apologizing for his having spent the
evening with Tanis. He went up to bed well pleased, not
only the master but the martyr of the household. For a
distasteful moment after he had lain down he wondered if
he had been altogether just. Ought to be ashamed,
bullying her. Maybe there is her side to things. Maybe she
hasnt had such a bloomin hectic time herself. But I dont
care! Good for her to get waked up a little. And Im going
to keep free. Of her and Tanis and the fellows at the club
and everybody. Im going to run my own life!
II
In this mood he was particularly objectionable at the
Boosters Club lunch next day. They were addressed by a
congressman who had just returned from an exhaustive
three-months study of the finances, ethnology, political
systems, linguistic divisions, mineral resources, and agriculture
of Germany, France, Great Britain, Italy, Austria,
Czechoslovakia, Jugoslavia, and Bulgaria. He told them all
about those subjects, together with three funny stories
about European misconceptions of America and some
spirited words on the necessity of keeping ignorant foreigners
out of America.
Say, that was a mighty informative talk. Real he-stuff,
said Sidney Finkelstein.
But the disaffected Babbitt grumbled, Four-flusher! Bunch
of hot air! And whats the matter with the immigrants?
Gosh, they arent all ignorant, and I got a hunch were all
descended from immigrants ourselves.
Oh, you make me tired! said Mr Finkelstein.
Babbitt was aware that Dr. A. I. Dilling was sternly
listening from across the table. Dr. Dilling was one of the
most important men in the Boosters. He was not a
physician but a surgeon, a more romantic and sounding
occupation. He was an intense large man with a boiling of
black hair and a thick black mustache. The newspapers
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Babbitt
often chronicled his operations; he was professor of surgery
in the State University; he went to dinner at the very best
houses on Royal Ridge; and he was said to be worth
several hundred thousand dollars. It was dismaying to
Babbitt to have such a person glower at him. He hastily
praised the congressmans wit, to Sidney Finkelstein, but
for Dr. Dillings benefit.
III
That afternoon three men shouldered into Babbitts
office with the air of a Vigilante committee in frontier days.
They were large, resolute, big-jawed men, and they were
all high lords in the land of Zenith Dr. Dilling the
surgeon, Charles McKelvey the contractor, and, most
dismaying of all, the white-bearded Colonel Rutherford
Snow, owner of the Advocate-Times. In their whelming
presence Babbitt felt small and insignificant.
Well, well, great pleasure, have chairs, what cn I do
for you? he babbled.
They neither sat nor offered observations on the weather.
Babbitt, said Colonel Snow, weve come from the
Good Citizens League. Weve decided we want you to
join. Vergil Gunch says you dont care to, but I think we
can show you a new light. The League is going to
combine with the Chamber of Commerce in a campaign for
the Open Shop, so its time for you to put your name
down.
In his embarrassment Babbitt could not recall his reasons
for not wishing to join the League, if indeed he had ever
definitely known them, but he was passionately certain
that he did not wish to join, and at the thought of their
forcing him he felt a stirring of anger against even these
princes of commerce.
Sorry, Colonel, have to think it over a little, he
mumbled.
McKelvey snarled, That means youre not going to join,
George?
Something black and unfamiliar and ferocious spoke
from Babbitt: Now, you look here, Charley! Im damned if
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Sinclair Lewis
Im going to be bullied into joining anything, not even by
you plutes!
Were not bullying anybody, Dr. Dilling began, but
Colonel Snow thrust him aside with, Certainly we are! We
dont mind a little bullying, if its necessary. Babbitt, the
G.C.L. has been talking about you a good deal. Youre
supposed to be a sensible, clean, responsible man; you
always have been; but here lately, for God knows what
reason, I hear from all sorts of sources that youre running
around with a loose crowd, and whats a whole lot worse,
youve actually been advocating and supporting some of
the most dangerous elements in town, like this fellow
Doane.
Colonel, that strikes me as my private business.
Possibly, but we want to have an understanding.
Youve stood in, you and your father-in-law, with some of
the most substantial and forward-looking interests in town,
like my friends of the Street Traction Company, and my
papers have given you a lot of boosts. Well, you cant
expect the decent citizens to go on aiding you if you
intend to side with precisely the people who are trying to
undermine us.
Babbitt was frightened, but he had an agonized instinct
that if he yielded in this he would yield in everything. He
protested:
Youre exaggerating, Colonel. I believe in being broadminded and liberal, but, of course, Im just as much agin
the cranks and blatherskites and labor unions and so on
as you are. But fact is, I belong to so many organizations
now that I cant do em justice, and I want to think it over
before I decide about coming into the G.C.L.
Colonel Snow condescended, Oh, no, Im not
exaggerating! Why the doctor here heard you cussing out
and defaming one of the finest types of Republican
congressmen, just this noon! And you have entirely the
wrong idea about thinking over joining. Were not
begging you to join the G.C.L. were permitting you to
join. Im not sure, my boy, but what if you put it off itll
be too late. Im not sure well want you then. Better think
quick better think quick!
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Babbitt
The three Vigilantes, formidable in their righteousness,
stared at him in a taut silence. Babbitt waited through. He
thought nothing at all, he merely waited, while in his
echoing head buzzed, I dont want to join I dont want
to join I dont want to.
All right. Sorry for you! said Colonel Snow, and the
three men abruptly turned their beefy backs.
IV
As Babbitt went out to his car that evening he saw
Vergil Gunch coming down the block. He raised his hand
in salutation, but Gunch ignored it and crossed the street.
He was certain that Gunch had seen him. He drove home
in sharp discomfort.
His wife attacked at once: Georgie dear, Muriel Frink
was in this afternoon, and she says that Chum says the
committee of this Good Citizens League especially asked
you to join and you wouldnt. Dont you think it would be
better? You know all the nicest people belong, and the
League stands for
I know what the League stands for! It stands for the
suppression of free speech and free thought and everything
else! I dont propose to be bullied and rushed into
joining anything, and it isnt a question of whether its a
good league or a bad league or what the hell kind of a
league it is; its just a question of my refusing to be told
I got to
But dear, if you dont join, people might criticize you.
Let em criticize!
But I mean NICE people!
Rats, I Matter of fact, this whole League is just a fad.
Its like all these other organizations that start off with
such a rush and let on theyre going to change the whole
works, and pretty soon they peter out and everybody
forgets all about em!
But if its THE fad now, dont you think you
No, I dont! Oh, Myra, please quit nagging me about it.
Im sick of hearing about the confounded G.C.L. I almost
wish Id joined it when Verg first came around, and got it
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Sinclair Lewis
over. And maybe Id ve come in to-day if the committee
hadnt tried to bullyrag me, but, by God, as long as Im a
free-born independent American cit
Now, George, youre talking exactly like the German
furnace-man.
Oh, I am, am I! Then, I wont talk at all!
He longed, that evening, to see Tanis Judique, to be
strengthened by her sympathy. When all the family were
up-stairs he got as far as telephoning to her apartmenthouse, but he was agitated about it and when the janitor
answered he blurted, Nev mind Ill call later, and hung
up the receiver.
V
If Babbitt had not been certain about Vergil Gunchs
avoiding him, there could be little doubt about William
Washington Eathorne, next morning. When Babbitt was
driving down to the office he overtook Eathornes car, with
the great banker sitting in anemic solemnity behind his
chauffeur. Babbitt waved and cried, Mornin! Eathorne
looked at him deliberately, hesitated, and gave him a nod
more contemptuous than a direct cut.
Babbitts partner and father-in-law came in at ten:
George, whats this I hear about some song and dance
you gave Colonel Snow about not wanting to join the
G.C.L.? What the dickens you trying to do? Wreck the firm?
You dont suppose these Big Guns will stand your bucking
them and springing all this liberal poppycock you been
getting off lately, do you?
Oh, rats, Henry T., you been reading bum fiction.
There aint any such a thing as these plots to keep folks
from being liberal. This is a free country. A man can do
anything he wants to.
Course th aint any plots. Who said they was? Only if
folks get an idea youre scatter-brained and unstable, you
dont suppose theyll want to do business with you, do you?
One little rumor about your being a crank would do more
to ruin this business than all the plots and stuff that these
fool story-writers could think up in a month of Sundays.
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Babbitt
That afternoon, when the old reliable Conrad Lyte, the
merry miser, Conrad Lyte, appeared, and Babbitt suggested
his buying a parcel of land in the new residential section
of Dorchester, Lyte said hastily, too hastily, No, no, dont
want to go into anything new just now.
A week later Babbitt learned, through Henry Thompson,
that the officials of the Street Traction Company were
planning another real-estate coup, and that Sanders, Torrey
and Wing, not the Babbitt-Thompson Company, were to
handle it for them. I figure that Jake Offutt is kind of leery
about the way folks are talking about you. Of course Jake
is a rock-ribbed old die-hard, and he probably advised the
Traction fellows to get some other broker. George, you got
to do something! trembled Thompson.
And, in a rush, Babbitt agreed. All nonsense the way
people misjudged him, but still He determined to join
the Good Citizens League the next time he was asked,
and in furious resignation he waited. He wasnt asked.
They ignored him. He did not have the courage to go to
the League and beg in, and he took refuge in a shaky
boast that he had gotten away with bucking the whole
city. Nobody could dictate to him how he was going to
think and act!
He was jarred as by nothing else when the paragon of
stenographers, Miss McGoun, suddenly left him, though
her reasons were excellent she needed a rest, her sister
was sick, she might not do any more work for six
months. He was uncomfortable with her successor,
Miss Havstad. What Miss Havstads given name was, no
one in the office ever knew. It seemed improbable that
she had a given name, a lover, a powder-puff, or a
digestion. She was so impersonal, this slight, pale,
industrious Swede, that it was vulgar to think of her as
going to an ordinary home to eat hash. She was a
perfectly oiled and enameled machine, and she ought,
each evening, to have been dusted off and shut in her
desk beside her too-slim, too-frail pencil points. She took
dictation swiftly, her typing was perfect, but Babbitt
became jumpy when he tried to work with her. She made
him feel puffy, and at his best-beloved daily jokes she
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Sinclair Lewis
looked gently inquiring. He longed for Miss McGouns
return, and thought of writing to her.
Then he heard that Miss McGoun had, a week after
leaving him, gone over to his dangerous competitors,
Sanders, Torrey and Wing.
He was not merely annoyed; he was frightened. Why
did she quit, then? he worried. Did she have a hunch my
business is going on the rocks? And it was Sanders got the
Street Traction deal. Rats sinking ship!
Gray fear loomed always by him now. He watched Fritz
Weilinger, the young salesman, and wondered if he too
would leave. Daily he fancied slights. He noted that he
was not asked to speak at the annual Chamber of Commerce
dinner. When Orville Jones gave a large poker party and
he was not invited, he was certain that he had been
snubbed. He was afraid to go to lunch at the Athletic
Club, and afraid not to go. He believed that he was spied
on; that when he left the table they whispered about him.
Everywhere he heard the rustling whispers: in the offices
of clients, in the bank when he made a deposit, in his
own office, in his own home. Interminably he wondered
what They were saying of him. All day long in imaginary
conversations he caught them marveling, Babbitt? Why,
say, hes a regular anarchist! You got to admire the fellow
for his nerve, the way he turned liberal and, by golly, just
absolutely runs his life to suit himself, but say, hes
dangerous, thats what he is, and hes got to be shown
up.
He was so twitchy that when he rounded a corner and
chanced on two acquaintances talking whispering his
heart leaped, and he stalked by like an embarrassed
schoolboy. When he saw his neighbors Howard Littlefield
and Orville Jones together, he peered at them, went
indoors to escape their spying, and was miserably certain
that they had been whispering plotting whispering.
Through all his fear ran defiance. He felt stubborn.
Sometimes he decided that he had been a very devil of a
fellow, as bold as Seneca Doane; sometimes he planned to
call on Doane and tell him what a revolutionist he was,
and never got beyond the planning. But just as often,
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Babbitt
when he heard the soft whispers enveloping him he
wailed, Good Lord, what have I done? Just played with
the Bunch, and called down Clarence Drum about being
such a high-and-mighty sodger. Never catch ME criticizing
people and trying to make them accept MY ideas!
He could not stand the strain. Before long he admitted
that he would like to flee back to the security of conformity,
provided there was a decent and creditable way to return.
But, stubbornly, he would not be forced back; he would
not, he swore, eat dirt.
Only in spirited engagements with his wife did these
turbulent fears rise to the surface. She complained that he
seemed nervous, that she couldnt understand why he did
not want to drop in at the Littlefields for the evening. He
tried, but he could not express to her the nebulous facts
of his rebellion and punishment. And, with Paul and Tanis
lost, he had no one to whom he could talk. Good Lord,
Tinka is the only real friend I have, these days, he
sighed, and he clung to the child, played floor-games with
her all evening.
He considered going to see Paul in prison, but, though
he had a pale curt note from him every week, he thought
of Paul as dead. It was Tanis for whom he was longing.
I thought I was so smart and independent, cutting
Tanis out, and I need her, Lord how I need her! he raged.
Myra simply cant understand. All she sees in life is
getting along by being just like other folks. But Tanis,
shed tell me I was all right.
Then he broke, and one evening, late, he did run to
Tanis. He had not dared to hope for it, but she was in,
and alone. Only she wasnt Tanis. She was a courteous,
brow-lifting, ice-armored woman who looked like Tanis.
She said, Yes, George, what is it? in even and uninterested
tones, and he crept away, whipped.
His first comfort was from Ted and Eunice Littlefield.
They danced in one evening when Ted was home from
the university, and Ted chuckled, Whats this I hear from
Euny, dad? She says her dad says you raised Cain by
boosting old Seneca Doane. Hot dog! Give em fits! Stir em
up! This old burg is asleep! Eunice plumped down on
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Sinclair Lewis
Babbitts lap, kissed him, nestled her bobbed hair against
his chin, and crowed; I think youre lots nicer than
Howard. Why is it, confidentially, that Howard is such
an old grouch? The man has a good heart, and honestly,
hes awfully bright, but he never will learn to step on the
gas, after all the training Ive given him. Dont you think
we could do something with him, dearest?
Why, Eunice, that isnt a nice way to speak of your
papa, Babbitt observed, in the best Floral Heights manner,
but he was happy for the first time in weeks. He pictured
himself as the veteran liberal strengthened by the loyalty
of the young generation. They went out to rifle the icebox. Babbitt gloated, If your mother caught us at this,
wed certainly get our come-uppance! and Eunice became
maternal, scrambled a terrifying number of eggs for them,
kissed Babbitt on the ear, and in the voice of a brooding
abbess marveled, It beats the devil why feminists like me
still go on nursing these men!
Thus stimulated, Babbitt was reckless when he
encountered Sheldon Smeeth, educational director of the
Y.M.C.A. and choir-leader of the Chatham Road Church.
With one of his damp hands Smeeth imprisoned Babbitts
thick paw while he chanted, Brother Babbitt, we havent
seen you at church very often lately. I know youre busy
with a multitude of details, but you mustnt forget your
dear friends at the old church home.
Babbitt shook off the affectionate clasp Sheldy liked
to hold hands for a long time and snarled, Well, I guess
you fellows can run the show without me. Sorry, Smeeth;
got to beat it. Gday.
But afterward he winced, If that white worm had the
nerve to try to drag me back to the Old Church Home,
then the holy outfit must have been doing a lot of talking
about me, too.
He heard them whispering whispering Dr. John
Jennison Drew, Cholmondeley Frink, even William
Washington Eathorne. The independence seeped out of
him and he walked the streets alone, afraid of mens
cynical eyes and the incessant hiss of whispering.
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