“That is evident. But I don’t think the people make the broadest application of your satires. They apply them to Chicago. There is quite a feeling. I suppose you know about this. They say you’ve hurt Chicago art.”
“I hope I have, so far as the bogus art and imitation culture of my city is concerned. As a matter of fact the same kind of thing exists in Boston and New York, only they’re used to it there. I’ve jumped on that crowd of faddists, I’ll admit, as hard as I could, but I don’t think anyone can say I’ve ever willingly done a real man or woman an injury. If I have, I’ve always tried to square the thing up.” Here was the man’s fairness, kindliness of heart, coming to the surface in good simple way.
The other man was visibly impressed with his friend’s earnestness, but he pursued his course. “You’ve had offers to go East, according to the papers.”
“Yes, but I’m not going—why should I? I’m in my element here. They haven’t any element there. They’ve got atmosphere there, and it’s pretty thin sometimes, I call it.” He uttered “atmosphere” with a drawling attenuated nasal to express his contempt. “I don’t want literary atmosphere. I want to be in an element where I can tumble around and yell without falling in a fit for lack of breath.”
The interviewer was scratching away like mad—this was his chance.
Field’s mind took a sudden turn now, and he said emphatically: “Garland, I’m a newspaper man. I don’t claim to be anything else. I’ve never written a thing for the magazines, and I never was asked to, till about four years ago. I never have put a high estimate upon my verse. That it’s popular is because my sympathies and the public’s happen to run on parallel lines just now. That’s all. Not much of it will live.”
“I don’t know about that, brother Field,” said Garland, pausing to rest. “I think you underestimate some of that work. Your reminiscent boy-life poems and your songs of children are thoroughly American, and fine and tender. They’ll take care of themselves.”
“Yes, but my best work has been along lines of satire. I’ve consistently made war upon shams. I’ve stood always in my work for decency and manliness and honesty. I think that’ll remain true, you’ll find. I’m not much physically, but morally I’m not a coward.”
“No, I don’t think anybody will rise up to charge you with time-serving. By the way, what a rare chance you have in the attitude of the Chicago people toward the Spanish princess!”
The tall man straightened up. His whole nature roused at this point, and his face grew square. His Puritan grandfather looked from his indignant eyes and set jaw as he said: