Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers

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I wouldn't go autoing with him for anything --
unless, of course, he gave me one of those compel-
ling glances, like Cave Men do in the magazines,
you know. Then I'd know it was destiny and use-
less to resist.

THE LITTLE GROUP GIVES A PAGAN MASQUE

The Little Group gave a party
And all of the gods were there,
From Thor to Miss Susan Astarte
With doo-daddles gemming her hair,

Bill Baldur and Jane Aphrodite,
Dick Vishnu and Benny O'Baal,
And Bacchus came on in a nightie
With little pink snakes in the tail;

Latin, Phoenician and Hindu
Norse and Egyptian and Chink. . . .
Castor was watching his Twin do
Stunts, with a brotherly wink. . . .

Persephone swearing by Hades. . . .
A Norn and Sibylline Simp. . . .
A Momus, who showed up to the ladies
The latest Olympian limp.

Was Hermione present? By Crikey!
(This Crikey's a Whitechapel joss)

Our Hermy attended as Psyche --
She siked and she got it across

And Fothergil Finch, rather gaumy
With Cosmic cosmetics, was there,
But the Swami went just as the Swami,
After oiling the kinks in his hair.

I said to Hermione: "Goddess!
You're graceful, you're Greek, you're a rose,
From the pinions that rise from your bodice
To the raddle I note on your toes,

"And Fothergil, here, with his censer,
And his little cheeks crimson as beets,
Your acolyte, perfume-dispenser,
Is sweet as a page out of Keats,

"But tell me, my Dea -- my Psyche! --
(With your wings outspread as to race
With that swift and acephalous Nike
Who lost her bean somewhere in Thrace) --

"My Thea -- my classical pigeon! --
Is not your Sincerity shocked
By this giddy revue of religion? . . .
Are none of these gods being mocked? . . .

"In the regions unknowable -- Thea! --
Where the noumenon chumbs with the Nous,
Where the Idol gets hep to Idea,
And pythagoras ogles a Goose,

"In the heavens of Brahm and Osiris,
Are they peeved with this revel, I ask? . . .
Does Pluto like this, where his fire is? . . .
What in hell do they think of this masque? . . .

"Where the deities, avid of Is-ness,
Resurge from the Flivvers that Were,
While the wild Chaotical Whizness
Gives place to a Cosmic Whir,

"Do they relish this josh of the josses?
Do they lamp not the same with a grouch?
Are you stinging these gloomy Big Bosses
To a keener, immortaler ouch?"

Hermione murmured: "How eerie!
You are voicing my own Inner Mood!
Ah me! but the world is less dreary
If one is but understood!

"And I thank you, I thank you, for rising
To my personal point of view. . . .
I THANK you for SYMPATHIZING! . . .
Dear man, how you always do!"

SYMPATHY

OF course we're out of town for the sum-
mer -- EVERYBODY'S out of town, now -- but
I motor in once or twice a week to keep in
touch with some of my committees.

Sociological work, for instance, keeps right up
the year around.

Of course, it's not so interesting in the winter.
You see more striking contrasts in the winter, don't
you think?

A couple of girl cousins of mine from Cincinnati
have been here. They're interested in welfare work
of all sorts.

"Hermione," they said, "we want to see the
bread line."

"My dears," I said, "I don't mind showing it to
you, but it's nothing much to see in summer. It's
in the winter that it arouses one's deepest sym-
pathies."

And one must keep one's sympathies aroused.
Often I say to myself at night: "Have I been sym-
pathetic today, or have I FAILED?"

Mamma often lacks sympathy. She objects to
having me reopen my Salon this winter.

"Hermione," she said, "I don't mind the subjects
you take up -- or the people you take up with -- if
you only take them up one at a time. And I am
glad when your own little group meets here, be-
cause it keeps you at home. But I will NOT have
all the different kinds of freaks here at the SAME
TIME, sitting around discussing free love and sex
education."

I was indignant. "Mamma," I said, "what right
have you to say they would discuss that all the
time?"

"Because," she said, "I have noticed that no mat-
ter whether they start with sociology or psychology,
they always get around to Sex in the end."

Isn't it funny about pure-minded people? -- in the
generation before this anything that shocked a pure-
minded person like Mamma was sure to be bad.

But now its only the evil-minded people who
ever get shocked at all, it seems.

The really PUREST of the pure-minded people don't
get shocked by anything at all these days.

I think Mamma is either getting purer-minded all
the time or is losing some of it -- I can't tell which --
for she isn't shocked as easily as she was a few
months ago.

But I got a shock myself recently.

I found out that plants have Sex, you know.

Just think of it -- carrots, onion, turnips, pota-
toes, and everything!

Isn't it frightful to think that this agitation has
spread to the vegetable kingdom?

I vowed I would never eat another potato as
long as I lived!

And, after all, what GOOD does it do -- letting the
vegetable kingdom have Sex, I mean?

Even a good thing, you know, can be carried too far.

"Mamma," I told her, "you are hopelessly behind
the times. Sex is a Great Fact. Someone must
discuss it. And who but the Leaders of Thought
are worthy to?"

I intend to say nothing more about it now -- but
when the time comes I WILL reopen my Salon.

And as far as talking about Sex is concerned --
the right sort of mind will get GOOD out of it, and
the wrong sort will get HARM.

I don't really LIKE discussions of Sex any more
than Mamma does. No really nice girl does.

But we advanced thinkers owe a duty to the race.

Not that the race is grateful. Especially the
lower classes.

It was only last week that I was endeavoring to
introduce the cook to some advanced ideas -- for her
own good, you know, and because one owes a spir-
itual duty to one's servants -- and she got angry and
gave notice.

The servant problem is frightful. It will have to
be taken seriously.

BLOUSES, BURGARS AND BUTTERMILK

SOME of us -- Our Little Group of Advanced
Thinkers, you know -- are going in for Bul-
garian buttermilk.

It came in about the time the Bulgarian blouses
did -- there was a war over there somewhere, you
know, before this big war, that made it fashionable.

But the blouses went out, and the buttermilk
stayed in.

It seems there's a Bulgarian by the name of
Metchnikoff in Paris who sits down and designs
these things -- the buttermilk, you know, not the
blouses.

Isn't science wonderful -- simply WONDERFUL!

We're going to take up Metchnikoff in a serious way.
You know what he aims to do is to lengthen life.

The question is: "Should life be lengthened?
Or should it not?

The Leaders of Thought will have to thresh that
out soon.

The question of old age is a subtle one, isn't it?

And it's very typical of our times, don't you think,
that we should discuss the problems of old age?

Other epochs have done it, of course, but not
optimistically.

The question enters into everything -- even milli-
nery.

I'm having the loveliest hat adapted from a
French model -- to wear with my lingerie costumes,
you know -- a wide-brimmed black lace with a black
velvet crown.

It's only recently that young women could afford
to wear black, even when it was becoming. When
Mamma was young it was a sign that youth was
past.

And nowadays, age doesn't matter so much one
way or another. A person is the age one FEELS,
you know.

Have you thought deeply on Hypnagogic Illu-
sions? We're planning to take them up.

TWILIGHT SLEEP

HAVE you read anything about the Twilight
Sleep yet? It's wonderful; simply WONDERFUL!

The loveliest man told our little group all about
it -- just the other evening.

"Hermione," said Mamma, "I will NOT have you
taking up any more subjects of that Easy Indian
character. No Swami shall ever enter this house
again!"

"Mamma," I said to her, "you are hopelessly un-
advanced., It has nothing whatever to do with
Going into the Silences or Swamis. It's entirely
scientific and not psychic at all. And if it were
psychic, what then?"

"No Swami," said Mamma, even more stubborn-
ly, "shall ever darken my door again!"

Poor, dear, stupid Mamma! She gets things so
mixed!

"As far as Swamis are concerned," I told her,
"the debt we owe to them in incalculable. Where,
for instance, would we have ever heard of Karma
if it had not been for the Swamis?"

She couldn't answer; she just looked stubborn;
unadvanced people always look stubborn and glare.

"Where," I said, "did we get the Vedantas and
Vegetarianism and Alternate Breathing from?"

She couldn't say a word. She just pouted.

"Who taught us," I said, "Transmigration of
Souls and Vibrations?"

She broke down and cried.

"Hermione," she said, "I simply HATE howdahs
and cobras and swastikas and all those Oriental
things!"

Mamma has no idea whatever of logic. She is a
typical old-fashioned woman.

"Mamma," I said, "cry as much as you like. You
shall not disturb MY inner Harmony! I will not
permit you to. And my mind is made up. I will
take up the Twilight Sleep in a serious way!"

That settled it, too.

Have you noticed, there's been just a hint of
autumn in the air these last few days?

Have you seen the new styles for autumn? They
are wonderful; simply WONDERFUL!

INTUITION

IN spite of all we've done for them -- by we I
mean the serious thinkers of the world -- some
people are so frightfully uncultured!

A girl asked me the other day -- and the surpris-
ing thing about it, too, is that she belonged to our
own Little Group of Advanced Thinkers -- she asked
me: "Hermione, don't you just done on Rubaiyat's
poetry?"

For a moment I couldn't think who she meant at
all.

"He's not an American, is he?" I said.

"Oh, no," she said, "he's some sort of an Ori-
ental."

"It isn't Rubaiyat you're thinking of, my dear,"
I told her. It's Rabindranath. Rabindranath
Something-or-other, that new man -- he's wonder-
ful, my dear, simply wonderful."

And then she quoted some of it and -- the idea
is too absurd for anything, but what do you sup-
pose it was?

Omar Khayyam -- imagine!

And really, you know, it's been years since anybody
quoted Omar Khayyam; he's QUITE gone out, you know!

Even the question whether he was moral doesn't
attract any attention any more. Although as far
as that is concerned, the pure mind will get purity
out of him and the impure mind will get impurity.
Honi sit qui -- what is the rest of it? Oh, you
know -- it's Latin -- what the Romans used to say
about Caesar's wife and her continual suspicions.

My, how a suspicious wife can handicap a man!

But, of course, as women get more and more
advanced, and know about the lives men lead, they
are finding out that the suspicions were justified.

Their intuitions told them so all the time.

I have a lot of intuition myself -- the moment a
man comes I judge him in spite of myself.

First impressions always last with me, too.

You know, I'm very psychic.

Sometimes I am almost frightened when I think
of the things my intuition would tell me if I al-
lowed it to roam at will, so to speak, among my
friends and acquaintances.

But I restrain it. One must, you know. The
loveliest man gave us such an interesting talk on
self-restraint the other evening.

And now I always ask myself the last thing be-
fore I go to bed at night: "Have I restrained my-
self today? Or have I failed?"

There is no real culture without restraint, you know.

That's where the English are so superior, don't
you think?

I met the loveliest Englishman the other eve-
ning. The moment I saw him I said to myself he
was one of the aristocracy. Other people have
noses like theirs, of course, but it is only the Eng-
lish aristrocracy who can CARRY that kind of a nose.

And my intuition was correct -- there are only
five lives between him and a title, and one of those
is a polo player and another is at the front.

Someone told me his family were paying him
not to go home, but what they think the poor man
would do if he were in England I don't know, be-
cause they don't duel there, you know. If they
dueled there, of course, he might dispose of all
five lives.

Don't you think those old European families are
so, so -- well, so ROMANTIC< somehow?

STIMULATING INFLUENCES

SCIENCE and philanthropy should go hand in
hand -- two hearts that beat as one, if you
know what I mean, and all that sort of thing.

And they do, too. We were discussing it the
other evening -- our Little Group of Serious Think-
ers, you know -- and we decided that what philan-
thropy owes to science is made up by what science
owes to philanthropy.

Isn't it wonderful how things balance like that?

There's the Twilight Sleep and the Mother-
Teacher Idea, for instance.

Our little group are thinking of starting a propo-
ganda to urge ALL Teachers to be Mothers.

And, of course, a lot of them might object -- but
along comes the Twilight Sleep and takes away all
POSSIBLE objections.

And along comes Philanthropy to put the Twi-
light Sleep within the reach of all -- at least, we
hope it will -- and we're going to take the matter up
with some of the Philanthropists right away.

Isn't it just simply WONDERFUL how Modern
Thought brings subjects like that together?

Of course, even Modern Thought couldn't do it,
unless the subjects belonged together, anyhow, could
it? Unless they were -- er -- er -- --

Well, you know, Affinities. Though I don't care
much for the word.

Affinities have quite gone out, you know. You
don't hear much about Affinities this autumn.

Nor Soul Mates, either, for that matter.

Though I always will say there's an IDEA behind
all the talk about them.

Isn't it odd about things that way -- how Ideas
come and go, you know, and become quite old-
fashioned, and yet all the time have a QUITE pro-
found Idea back of them?

There's Cubist and Futurist Art, for instance --
one doesn't hear nearly so much about them now,
though everyone admitted there was an Idea be-
hind them.

Of course, no one knew what the Idea MEANT.

But it was stimulating.

And why should an Idea have to MEAN anything
if it is STIMULATING?

Stimulation! Stimulation! That is the secret
of Modern Life!

One should be receptive to Stimulation -- one
should strive to Stimulate!

One owes it to the Masses to Stimulate! It is
the DUTY of the leaders of Advanced Thought!

Nearly every night before I go to bed I ask my-
self, "Have I been a Stimulating Influence today?
Or have I failed?"

Fothergil Finch says I Stimulate HIM!

Poor, dear man! -- he's becoming quite -- quite --
well, er -- er -- TOO encouraged, if you know what I mean.

Yes, that is the way with poets.

I doubt if ANY poet ever understood a purely
Platonic Friendship.

I gave him a long, long look last evening and said,
"Fothergil, CAN you keep on the Platonic Plane?"

He only said, "Alas! The Platonic Plane!"

I hope he can. I need him for my Salon.

I'm having the entire ground floor of the house
done over for that, you know, and I may reopen it
any time now!

POLITICS

I'M thinking of taking up politics in a practical
way.

I've never been an active suffragist, you
know, on account of that horrid yellow color on the
banners and things.

But one must sacrifice Ideals of Beauty to Ideals
of Usefulness, mustn't one?

And politics is fascinating; simply FASCINATING!

Going about and organizing working girls, you
know, and seeing Corrupt Bosses and enlisting them
for Moral Causes, and making one's self felt as a
Force -- could one make one's self more Utile?

More spiritually Utile?

Utility! That is what our Leaders of Thought
need to develop!

Nearly every night before I go to bed I say to
myself: "Have I been Utile today? Or have I
FAILED?"

Politics, practical politics, will be such an outlet
for my personality, too.

And when I reopen my Salon I can make it count
for the Cause, too.

We are going to give an evening soon -- our
Group of Advanced Thinkers, you know -- to a seri-
ous and thorough study of political economy. They
say it's simply wonderful.

The loveliest woman talked to us the other eve-
ning. She's a poet. When women have charge of
affairs, she said, Humanitarianism, Idealism and the
Poetic Spirit will rule in public life.

Won't that be lovely?

But we must be practical, and get the Bosses on
our side. They are simply horrid people socially
and ethically, you know. But there's something
frightfully fascinating about the idea of bearding
them in their dens with petitions and things.

Though how the idea of abolishing men alto-
gether will work out I don't know.

Some of the leaders of the Cause seem to want it.
I have no doubt that it could be done. Some plants and
insects have only the female sex, you know. And
maybe the human race will be that way one day.

Although, for my part, if they could only be re-
formed I'd favor retaining men.

There's something about them so -- so -- well, so
MASCULINE somehow, if you know what I mean.

But I must hurry -- I have to do some shopping.

Clothes are a bore, aren't they?

HERMIONE ON PSYCHICAL RESEARCH

SPIRITUALISM is becoming quite the thing,
isn't it?

Dear Sir Oliver Lodge has been proving
some more things quite recently, you know. How
anyone could doubt a man with such a lovely head
and face I can't imagine.

Spiritualism and Spiritism are quite different, you
know. It has been a long time, really, since Spir-
itualism was taken seriously.

Except by superstitious people, of course.

But Spiritism has come to stay. It has nothing
to do with superstition at all. It's part of Advanced
Thought -- quite scientific, you know, while Spiritu-
alism was just a fad.

And Spiritualism is somehow more -- well, er --
VULGAR if you get what I mean. The sort of people
one cares to know well have dropped Spiritualism
for Spiritism.

Though, of course, a ghost is a ghost, whether it
is materialized by spiritualism or Spiritism.

I have been often told that I am naturally very
clairvoyant -- if I were developed I would make a
splendid medium. Mediums have seen shapes hov-
ering around my head, and once when I was at
school I did some automatic writing.

It was the strangest, easiest thing! I had a pen-
cil in my hand and without thinking of anything in
particular at all I just scribbled away, and what I
wrote was, "When in the course of human events
it becomes necessary; When in the course of human
events it becomes necessary," over and over again.

I was quite startled, for the last thing I had been
thinking of was an algebra examination, and not
history at all. We had had our history examination
days before.

I felt as if an unseen hand had reached out of
the Silences and grasped mine!

Wasn't it weird?

And I know who it was, too. A distant relative
of Mamma's on her father's side, by marriage, was
one of the men who signed the Constitution of the
United States in Faneuil Hall, in Philadelphia, in
1776, and it was HIS spirit that was trying to de-
liver his message through me!

And only last year I came across a very similar
case. Only this was stranger than mine, if any-
thing. For it happened on a typewriter -- which
proves that the veil between the two worlds must
be very thin, doesn't it, if the spirits are taking up
modern inventions?

It happened to one of Papa's stenographers. I
had her up to the house to take notes for a report
I was making to one of the sociological committees
I was on then.

And she took the notes and put them into shape
for me, but when she sent the report to me the back
of one of the sheets was just full of one sentence
written over and over again. She didn't know she'd
included that sheet, of course.

It was so curious I asked her about it.

She looked a little queer and said that when she
wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but just
sitting before her typewriter and not working, she
always wrote that sentence.

"It just comes into my head," she said, "and I
write it."

"An occult force guides your fingers?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am, that's it," she said.

Over and over and over again she had written,
"Now is the time for all good men to come to the
aid of the party."

And here is the eerie part of it -- it almost fright-
ened me when I got it out of her! -- her father had
been some sort of politician; a district leader, or
something like that. And he was dead, and she
had had to go to work.

But he was trying to deliver a message through
her!

Isn't Psychical Research simply wonderful!

Not that I'd care to go in for any vulgar thing
such as tin trumpets, you know, but -- --

Well, there's the Astral Body. That hasn't been
vulgarized at all, if you get what I mean. Really,
the Best People have them.

ENVOY

HERMIONE, THE DEATHLESS

She will not die! -- in Brainstorm Slum
Fake, Nut and Freak Psychologist
Eternally shall buzz and hum,
And Spook and Swami keep their tryst
with Thinkers in a Mental Mist.
You threaten her with Night and Sorrow?
Out of the Silences, I wist,
More Little Groups will rise tomorrow!

The lips of Patter ne'er are dumb,
The Futile Mills shall grind their grist
Of sand from now till Kingdom Come;
The Winds of Bunk are never whist.
You scowl and shake an honest fist --
You threaten her with Night and Sorrow?
Go slay one Pseudo-Scientist,
More Little Groups will rise tomorrow!

With Fudge to feed the Hungry Bum
She plays the Girl Philanthropist --
Each pinchbeck, boy Millenium
She swings, a Bangle, at her wrist --
Blithe Parrot and Pert Egoist,
You threaten her with Night and Sorrow?
Hermiones will aye persist!
More Little Groups will rise tomorrow!

She, whom Prince Platitude has kissed,
You threaten her with Night and Sorrow?
Slay her by thousands, friend -- but list:
More Little Groups will rise tomorrow!

(I)

[END]

Table of typist's changes:

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