Evening star., 1932-04-15
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

curl and the eyes hold a sneer. step
up. all persons who wish to JON the
Shoes -Fit-Me Club! The line 1orms on
/ the right.
The world suffers from such delu-
Sions of grandeur. indeed, that 1t Is
willing to give it's highest awards TO
those persons in the public eye. through
one means or another, who seem at the
time to be what all men think they
should be.
The true picture is what hurts, not
because it is true but mostly because II
Is something which the sitter has not
considered likely enough to do MIN
justice
Just as every portrait sitter wants a
picture which flatterS him. whether he
ADMITS as much or not, so the human
being who catches a word picture OF
himself somewhere puts up an uncon-
Scious demand that it portray him IN
noble or even stupendouS role.
When he finds that he comes out no
hero but Just what he is, average run
of-the-mill human, he is tempted to be
angry with the camera which would not
| put crown on his head.
Every man is a king, isn't he? at
least in America. And now where Is
my crown, and my diadem, and my robe
OF purple with golden bees upon it?
x x x
This person here who has set me
down in black and white in an unheroic
role, IS he not villain because ne
could not see the uncrowned king in
meh?
He should know, curses upon him
that this diVe5tment is worse upon my
soul that he has torn to pieces the
Shreds Of my self-respect
II this respect for a heroic portrait
which does not exist is strictly mine
own manufacture then he had best
refrain from blowing upon the bubble
OF mine esteem until it bursts.
And so, dear friends, Washingtonians
! and countrymen. We have described a
spectacle which would be comic if it
were not Just little bit tragic.
For every nan is a hero in his own
eyes.
He resents that you should even sus-
pect that he is mock hero.
The crime consists in telling that you
suspect. He Is willing to know that you
know the sad truth: he will even wink
about 1t, but you must not indicate it
to another.
Thus one is presented with the COM
mon spectacle of writer's of fiction who
must preface their wholly imaginative
efforts with solemn adiuration to the
reader not to think for a moment that
they used real life materials for their
models
Mr.. Powys in his monumental new
Glastonbury Romance" has seen fit to
declare that his story is not written
about the real town at all or any of its
people, but that his characters are en-
tirely imaginary
He did this, one may know instinc-
lively, to protect himself from the inrush
OF Would-be members to the Shoes-Fit-
Me Club, or at least to his particular
chapter of that very large organization
But one may believe that already
various persons with exalted egos, suf-
fering from deluSiOns of grandeur as
large as any and quite as vital. are
eagerly snuffing their way through its
pages in order to detect themselves in
1t, and particularly in order to be able
to enjoy the divine privilege of being
angry at another human being.
One might think. offhand. that there
was enough anger in the world already
without any one going to the trouble of
drumming it up. But If so. one does
not know these troubled, sensitive, wor-
ried persons, with their delusions of
grandeur as grand as any and their
clamarouS desire to become full -fedged
members of the Grand and Exalted Or
der of the Shoes-Fit-Me Club. Don't
crowd, folks! The line forms on the
! right and there is plenty of room for
everybody.