The New York herald., 1921-10-02

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S1@ HERE'S no limit scoffed
the Blasphemer. to what
wives want When they
have everything obtainable, then they
fix their minds on the unobtainable-
bottomless vats of acquisitiveness'
wives Fielding said, are of
course primarily conservative
Wives snarled the Blasphemer,
are primarily pigs!'"
friend Fielding ever had, understood
his ambitions, his double life of daily
business grind and hours of nightly
longing for self-expression through
one of the arts. His ideas closely
wove with those of Anton, Fieldings
grandfather. Anton had been a mu-
sician before he became a doctor to
support wife in the manner to which
she was used. Ames, Fielding's father,
had hoped to be a professor Of litera-
ture and had died early in life, longing
for hours with his beloved books in
stead of bending over a desk in the
office of the Elyria Lounge Works;
but a mother and wife of the ambi-
tious- for ther-men type had placed
him there.
had made too little impression upon
him. Life isn't going to be easy for
YOU Don't let women manage you.
They don't understand it," Yet these
words foretold the future Of the child,
4 Ii.
old body all the longings of both his
father and grandfather. Both those
men died and Fielding was at the
mercy of an ambitious mother.
Women came and went in his life,
bringing him some little relaxation,
some little comfort after the days of
striving in a hateful office.
In the early days at the shoe manu-
featuring concern Fielding met the
Blasphemer. To him he confided his
ambition to write. In response to
Fielding's confident statement that he
would write when he was ready for it
the Blasphemer replied: Rot! Dear
boy, I've heard that statement before.
4 But they never do it. They grow fat
and contented. They marry and breed
yowling brats They go to church on
Sundays, NOW the lawn, sprinkle the
garden, join lodge, pay their taxes,
read the Literary Digest and imagine
themselves to be getting on. Write :?
Good heavens! they can't even write a
letter. Take heed Don't put your
soul on q shelf with lot of shoe boxes
and kid yourself that some day you're
going to take il down and burnish it
up" And when later, Fielding is mar
ried, the successful official of a prom
ising motor corporation, the Blasphe-
mer condemns the man, even though
he is unhappy in his work, and to
Fielding's wife he says: II want plenty
of smoke, plenty Of production, plenty
of jobs. I'd just as soon have the
world flooded with merchandise, more
of it all the time, and getting cheaper
all the time. But / want to see the
stuff produced by fatheads who can't
do anything else. / hate to see Field
ing driven to 1t by this craze for
power, and, If you will pardon me, by
an ambitious wife"
Then i'm New York, his son and wife
mentally and physically separated
from him, wrapped up night and day
in his demanding work. after the sue
cessful organization of the biggest en-
terprise in which he had yet found
himself. Fielding "camn to realize that
1t was not his own will that had driven
him to 1t. Rather ii was a peculiar
fascination to see how far he could go
with this idea, curiosity to find out
bow much power he could really
exert"
A specialist ordered him to indulge
in the pastimes he loved, to take time
for reading, writing, theatres, music.
And Fielding, with his family out of
the city. sought a tiny apartment, and
in the simplicity of it's furnishings
found the peace which his magnificent
house could not give his soul. And he
tried to write in the night hours after
the days of business strife. He began
to realize that "after dusk he was a
different man, engaged with different
thoughts, reacting entirely differently
to life. He had embarked upon two
different lives-the one known and
approved by the world i'm which he
lived and the other a secret. Only the
Blasphemer knew Of Fielding's divided
life.
] I'm after two things Fielding had
written him. But instead of hating
one of my activities and enjoying the
other propose to enjoy them both.
feel that I am making definite head
way each day in both directions. The
one effort feeds the other. They seem
to balance each other. I too shall
write. You will hear from me-
You poor fish, roared the Bias
phemer in reply Either you1l be a
: good business man. he went on. and
vile artist, or you'll be a decent artist
and rotten man of affairs. Do you
think you can serve two masters?
You've kept your soul in forgotten
bin In the stock room. You've let 1t
get covered with cobwebs. You've let
IL rot
What the hell do you know about
my soul? I'm not done. You watch
my smoke!' was Fielding's reply.
ri You poor hybrid. You're the prod
uct OF two separate and distinct spe-
cies. So you're sterile. You were