Here the lie has many forms - unique,
varied, ingenious. The rouge and powder on the lady's cheek - they
are lies, both of them; the baronial and ducal crests are lies and the
fools who use them are liars; the people who soak themselves in
rum have nothing but lies in their heads; the multitude who live by
their wits and the lack of them in others - they are all liars; the
many who imagine a vain thing and pretend to be what they are
not liars everyone of them. It is bound to be so in the great cities,
and it is a mark of decay. The skirts of Elegabalus, the wigs and
rouge pots of Madame Pompadour, the crucifix of Machiavelli and
the innocent smile of Fernando Wood stand for something horribly
and vastly false in the people about them. For truth you ve got to
get back into the woods. You can find men there a good deal as
God made them' genuine, strong and simple. When those men
cease to come here you'll see grass growing in Broadway.
I made no answer and the great commoner stirred his coffee a
moment in silence.
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