Chapter 11 - Page 2

this miserable world gives Shakespeare
all the credit. It's worse than the case of a friend of mine, one of
whose grandfathers was French and the other German."

"How did it affect him?" asked Mr. Whitechoker.

"It made him distrust himself," said the Idiot, with a smile, "and for
that reason he never could get on in the world. When his Teutonic nature
suggested that he do something, his Gallic blood would rise up and spoil
everything, and _vice versa_. He was eternally quarrelling with himself.
He was a victim to internal disorder of the worst sort."

"And what, pray, finally became of him?" asked the Clergyman.

"He shot himself in a duel," returned the Idiot, with a wink at the
genial old gentleman who occasionally imbibed. "It was very sad."

"I've known sadder things," said Mr. Pedagog, wearily. "Your elaborate
jokes, for instance. They are enough to make strong men weep."

"You flatter me, Mr. Pedagog," said the Idiot. "I have never in all my
experience as a cracker of jests made a man laugh until he cried, but I
hope to some day. But, really, do you know I think Columbus is an
immensely overrated man. If you come down to it, what did he do? He went
out to sea in a ship and sailed for three months, and when he least
expected it ran slam-bang up against the Western Hemisphere. It was like
shooting at a barn door with a Gatling gun. He was bound to hit it sooner
or later."

"You don't give him any credit for tenacity of purpose or good judgment,
then?" asked Mr. Brief.

"Of course I do. Plenty of it. He stuck to his ship like a hero who
didn't know how to swim. His judgment was great. He had too much sense
to go back to Spain without any news of something, because he fully
understood that unless he had something to show for the trip, there would
have been a great laugh on Queen Isabella for selling her jewels to
provide for a ninety-day yacht cruise for him and a lot of common
sailors, which would never have done. So he kept on and on, and finally
some unknown lookout up in the bow discovered America. Then Columbus
went home and told everybody that if it hadn't been for his own eagle eye
emigration wouldn't have been invented, and world's fairs would have been
local institutions. Then they got up a parade in which the King and Queen
graciously took part, and Columbus became a great man. Meanwhile the
unknown lookout who did discover the land was knocking about the town and
thinking he was a very lucky fellow to get an extra glass of grog. It
wasn't anything more than the absolute justice of fate that caused the
new land to be named America and not Columbia. It