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Matthew Edgar
Speed Metrics Guide: Choosing the Right Metrics to Use When
Evaluating Websites
Matthew Edgar
Centennial, CO, USA
Introduction���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������xiii
iii
Table of Contents
iv
Table of Contents
v
Table of Contents
vi
Table of Contents
vii
Table of Contents
viii
Table of Contents
Index�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������237
ix
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About the Author
Matthew Edgar is a partner at Elementive
(www.elementive.com), a Colorado-based
consulting firm specializing in technical
SEO. Over the last 20 years, Matthew has
helped hundreds of clients optimize their
websites, improving organic traffic and
conversions. His clients include startups,
small businesses, and Fortune 500 companies.
Matthew is the author of Tech SEO Guide
(Apress, 2023) and has spoken at leading SEO
conferences, including SMX, MozCon, and MarTech. Matthew holds
a Master’s in Information and Communications Technology from the
University of Denver. Learn more and connect at MatthewEdgar.net.
xi
Introduction
The Challenge of Measuring Website Speed
The benefits of faster websites are well known. Faster websites offer a
better user experience and typically have higher conversion rates. Faster
websites may rank better in organic search results and are easier for robots
to crawl. Because of these benefits, many companies invest heavily to
improve their website’s speed.
Unfortunately, companies often invest in the wrong areas and do not
meaningfully improve the website’s speed. Investing in the right areas and
making a meaningful difference starts by understanding how to correctly
measure a website’s speed and knowing how to use those measurements
to identify the biggest opportunities.
Speed reports can be difficult to understand with so many metrics
available. TTFB, FCP, LCP, TBT, or TTI might be slow, but what do these
acronyms represent about website speed? The harder question to answer
is what actions should be taken if a metric is slower than it ought to be?
If multiple metrics are slower than they ought to be, which metric should
be improved first to have the greatest impact? Answering these questions
requires not only understanding what the metric represents but also
understanding how each metric relates to the bigger picture of website
loading.
xiii
Introduction
xiv
Introduction
Each chapter will discuss the different tools that can be used to
measure that metric and identify related opportunities for improvement.
The tools discussed in this book are all available for free and can be used
by everyone, including developers and non-developers. There are paid
versions of these tools available that offer deeper insight, especially at
scale for larger websites. While the paid versions are helpful, paying
for a tool should not be a requirement. The free versions of tools offer
plenty of information to begin measuring website speed and identifying
opportunities.
xv
PART I
Initial Connection
CHAPTER 1
the domain’s IP address. These steps are shown in Figure 1-1 and include
the following:
4
Chapter 1 DNS Lookup Time
Root DNS
Server
3
5
Authoritative
Server
5
Chapter 1 DNS Lookup Time
6
Chapter 1 DNS Lookup Time
7
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Chapter 1 DNS Lookup Time
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Chapter 1 DNS Lookup Time
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Chapter 1 DNS Lookup Time
12
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Glebe
1914/01 (Vol. 1, No. 4): Love of One's
Neighbor
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
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you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Glebe 1914/01 (Vol. 1, No. 4): Love of One's Neighbor
Language: English
AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY
THOMAS SELTZER
NEW YORK
ALBERT AND CHARLES BONI
96 FIFTH AVENUE
1914
Copyright, 1914
By
Albert and Charles Boni
LOVE OF ONE’S NEIGHBOR
Scene. A wild place in the mountains.
(A man in an attitude of despair is standing on a tiny projection of
a rock that rises almost sheer from the ground. How he got there it
is not easy to say, but he cannot be reached either from above or
below. Short ladders, ropes and sticks show that attempts have been
made to save the unknown person, but without success.
It seems that the unhappy man has been in that desperate
position a long time. A considerable crowd has already collected,
extremely varied in composition. There are venders of cold drinks;
there is a whole little bar behind which the bartender skips about out
of breath and perspiring—he has more on his hands than he can
attend to; there are peddlers selling picture postal cards, coral
beads, souvenirs, and all sorts of trash. One fellow is stubbornly
trying to dispose of a tortoise-shell comb, which is really not
tortoise-shell. Tourists keep pouring in from all sides, attracted by
the report that a catastrophe is impending—Englishmen, Americans,
Germans, Russians, Frenchmen, Italians, etc., with all their peculiar
national traits of character, manner and dress. Nearly all carry
alpenstocks, field-glasses and cameras. The conversation is in
different languages, all of which, for the convenience of the reader,
we shall translate into English.
At the foot of the rock where the unknown man is to fall, two
policemen are chasing the children away and partitioning off a
space, drawing a rope around short stakes stuck in the ground. It is
noisy and jolly.)
Policeman. Get away, you loafer! The man’ll fall on your head and
then your mother and father will be making a hullabaloo about it.
Boy. Will he fall here?
Policeman. Yes, here.
Boy. Suppose he drops farther?
Second Policeman. The boy is right. He may get desperate and
jump, land beyond the rope and hit some people in the crowd. I
guess he weighs at least about two hundred pounds.
First Policeman. Move on, move on, you! Where are you going? Is
that your daughter, lady? Please take her away! The young man will
soon fall.
Lady. Soon? Did you say he is going to fall soon? Oh, heavens, and
my husband’s not here!
Little Girl. He’s in the café, mamma.
Lady (desperately). Yes, of course. He’s always in the café. Go call
him, Nellie. Tell him the man will soon drop. Hurry! Hurry!
Voices. Waiter!—Garçon—Kellner—Three beers out here!—No
beer?—What?—Say, that’s a fine bar—We’ll have some in a moment
—Hurry up—Waiter!—Waiter!—Garçon!
First Policeman. Say, boy, you’re here again?
Boy. I wanted to take the stone away.
Policeman. What for?
Boy. So he shouldn’t get hurt so badly when he falls.
Second Policeman. The boy is right. We ought to remove the stone.
We ought to clear the place altogether. Isn’t there any sawdust or
sand about?
(Two English tourists enter. They look at the unknown man
through field-glasses and exchange remarks.)
First Tourist. He’s young.
Second Tourist. How old?
First Tourist. Twenty-eight.
Second Tourist. Twenty-six. Fright has made him look older.
First Tourist. How much will you bet?
Second Tourist. Ten to a hundred. Put it down.
First Tourist (writing in his note-book. To the policeman). How did
he got up there? Why don’t they take him off?
Policeman. They tried, but they couldn’t. Our ladders are too short.
Second Tourist. Has he been here long?
Policeman. Two days.
First Tourist. Aha! He’ll drop at night.
Second Tourist. In two hours. A hundred to a hundred.
First Tourist. Put it down. (He shouts to the man on the rock.)
How are you feeling? What? I can’t hear you.
Unknown Man (in a scarcely audible voice). Bad, very bad.
Lady. Oh, heavens, and my husband is not here!
Little Girl (running in). Papa said he’ll get here in plenty of time.
He’s playing chess.
Lady. Oh, heavens! Nellie, tell him he must come. I insist. But
perhaps I had rather— Will he fall soon, Mr. Policeman? No? Nellie,
you go. I’ll stay here and keep the place for papa.
(A tall, lanky woman of unusually independent and military
appearance and a tourist dispute for the same place. The tourist, a
short, quiet, rather weak man, feebly defends his rights; the woman
is resolute and aggressive.)
Tourist. But, lady, it is my place. I have been standing here for
two hours.
Military Woman. What do I care how long you have been standing
here. I want this place. Do you understand? It offers a good view,
and that’s just what I want. Do you understand?
Tourist (weakly). It’s what I want, too.
Military Woman. I beg your pardon, what do you know about these
things anyway?
Tourist. What knowledge is required? A man will fall. That’s all.
Military Woman (mimicking). “A man will fall. That’s all.” Won’t you
have the goodness to tell me whether you have ever seen a man
fall? No? Well, I did. Not one, but three. Two acrobats, one rope-
walker and three aeronauts.
Tourist. That makes six.
Military Woman (mimicking). “That makes six.” Say, you are a
mathematical prodigy. And did you ever see a tiger tear a woman to
pieces in a zoo, right before your eyes? Eh? What? Yes, exactly.
Now, I did— Please! Please!
(The tourist steps aside, shrugging his shoulders with an air of
injury, and the tall woman triumphantly takes possession of the
stone she has won by her prowess. She sits down, spreading out
around her her bag, handkerchiefs, peppermints, and medicine
bottle, takes off her gloves and wipes her field-glass, glancing
pleasantly on all around. Finally she turns to the lady who is waiting
for her husband in the café.)
Military Woman (amiably). You will tire yourself out, dear. Why
don’t you sit down?
Lady. Oh, my, don’t talk about it. My legs are as stiff as that rock
there.
Military Woman. Men are so rude nowadays. They will never give
their place to a woman. Have you brought peppermints with you?
Lady (frightened). No. Why? Is it necessary?
Military Woman. When you keep looking up a long time you are
bound to get sick. Sure thing. Have you spirits of ammonia? No?
Good gracious, how thoughtless! How will they bring you back to
consciousness when he falls? You haven’t any smelling salts either, I
dare say. Of course not. Have you anybody to take care of you,
seeing that you are so helpless yourself?
Lady (frightened). I will tell my husband. He is in the café.
Military Woman. Your husband is a brute.
Policeman. Whose coat is this? Who threw this rag here?
Boy. It’s mine. I spread my coat there so that he doesn’t hurt
himself so badly when he falls.
Policeman. Take it away.
(Two tourists armed with cameras contending for the same
position.)
First Tourist. I wanted this place.
Second Tourist. You wanted it, but I got it.
First Tourist. You just came here. I have had this place for two
days.
Second Tourist. Then why did you go without even leaving your
shadow?
First Tourist. I wasn’t going to starve myself to death.
Comb-Vender (mysteriously). Tortoise-shell.
Tourist (savagely). Well?
Vender. Genuine tortoise-shell.
Tourist. Go to the devil.
Third Tourist, Photographer. For heaven’s sake, lady, you’re sitting
on my camera!
Little Lady. Oh! Where is it?
Tourist. Under you, under you, lady.
Little Lady. I am so tired. What a wretched camera you have. I
thought it felt uncomfortable and I was wondering why. Now I
know; I am sitting on your camera.
Tourist (agonized). Lady!
Little Lady. I thought it was a stone. I saw something lying there
and I thought: A queer-looking stone; I wonder why it’s so black. So
that’s what it was; it was your camera. I see.
Tourist (agonized). Lady, for heaven’s sake!
Little Lady. Why is it so large, tell me. Cameras are small, but this
one is so large. I swear I never had the faintest suspicion it was a
camera. Can you take my picture? I would so much like to have my
picture taken with the mountains here for a background, in this
wonderful setting.
Tourist. How can I take your picture if you are sitting on my
camera?
Little Lady (jumping up, frightened). Is it possible? You don’t say
so. Why didn’t you tell me so? Does it take pictures?
Voices. Waiter, one beer!—What did you bring wine for?—I gave
you my order long ago.—What will you have, sir?—One minute.—In
a second. Waiter!—Waiter—Toothpicks!—
(A fat tourist enters in haste, panting, surrounded by a numerous
family.)
Tourist (crying). Mary! Aleck! Jimmie!—Where is Mary? For God’s
sake! Where is Mary?
Student (dismally). Here she is, papa.
Tourist. Where is she? Mary!
Girl. Here I am, papa.
Tourist. Where in the world are you? (He turns around.) Ah, there!
What are you standing back of me for? Look, look! For goodness
sake, where are you looking?
Girl (dismally). I don’t know, papa.
Tourist. No, that’s impossible. Imagine! She never once saw a
lightning flash. She always keeps her eyes open as wide as onions,
but the instant it flashes she closes them. So she never saw
lightning, not once. Mary, you are missing it again. There it is! You
see!
Student. She sees, papa.
Tourist. Keep an eye on her. (Suddenly dropping into tone of
profound pity.) Ah, poor young man. Imagine! He’ll fall from that
high rock. Look, children, see how pale he is! That should be a
lesson to you how dangerous climbing is.
Student (dismally). He won’t fall to-day, papa!
Second Girl. Papa, Mary has closed her eyes again.
First Student. Let us sit down, papa! Upon my word, he won’t fall
to-day. The porter told me so. I can’t stand it any more. You’ve been
dragging us about every day from morning till night visiting art
galleries.
Tourist. What’s that? For whose benefit am I doing this? Do you
think I enjoy spending my time with a dunce?
Second Girl. Papa, Mary is blinking her eyes again.
Second Student. I can’t stand it either. I have terrible dreams.
Yesterday I dreamed of garçons the whole night long.
Tourist. Jimmie.
First Student. I have gotten so thin I am nothing but skin and
bones. I can’t stand it any more, father. I’d rather be a farmer, or
tend pigs.
Tourist. Aleck.
First Student. If he were really to fall—but it’s a fake. You believe
every lie told you! They all lie. Baedecker lies, too. Yes, your
Baedecker lies!
Mary (dismally). Papa, children, he’s beginning to fall.
(The man on the rock shouts something down into the crowd.
There is general commotion. Voices, “Look, he’s falling.” Field-
glasses are raised; the photographers, violently agitated, click their
cameras; the policemen diligently clean the place where he is to
fall.)
Photographer. Oh, hang it! What is the matter with me? The devil!
When a man’s in a hurry—
Second Photographer. Brother, your camera is closed.
Photographer. The devil take it.
Voices. Hush! He’s getting ready to fall.— No, he’s saying
something.—No, he’s falling.—Hush!
Unknown Man on the Rock (faintly). Save me! Save me!
Tourist. Ah, poor young man. Mary, Jimmie, there’s a tragedy for
you. The sky is clear, the weather is beautiful, and has he to fall and
be shattered to death? Can you realize how dreadful that is, Aleck?
Student (wearily). Yes, I can realize it.
Tourist. Mary, can you realize it? Imagine. There is the sky. There
are people enjoying themselves and partaking of refreshments.
Everything is so nice and pleasant, and he has to fall. What a
tragedy! Do you remember Hamlet?
Second Girl (prompting). Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, of Alsinore.
James. Of Helsingfors, I know. Don’t bother me, father!
Mary (dismally). He dreamed about garçons all night long.
Aleck. Why don’t you order sandwiches, father.
Comb-Vender (mysteriously). Tortoise-shell. Genuine tortoise-shell.
Tourist (credulously). Stolen?
Vender. Why, sir, the idea!
Tourist (angrily). Do you mean to tell me it’s genuine if it isn’t
stolen? Go on. Not much.
Military Woman (amiably). Are all these your children?
Tourist. Yes, madam. A father’s duty. You see, they are protesting.
It is the eternal conflict between fathers and children. Here is such a
tragedy going on, such a heart-rending tragedy—Mary, you are
blinking your eyes again.
Military Woman. You are quite right. Children must be hardened to
things. But why do you call this a terrible tragedy? Every roofer,
when he falls, falls from a great height. But this here—what is it? A
hundred, two hundred feet. I saw a man fall plumb from the sky.
Tourist (overwhelmed). You don’t say?
Aleck. Children, listen. Plumb from the sky.
Military Woman. Yes, yes. I saw an aeronaut drop from the clouds
and go crash upon an iron roof.
Tourist. How terrible!
Military Woman. That’s what I call a tragedy. It took two hours to
bring me back to consciousness, and all that time they pumped
water on me, the scoundrels. I was nearly drowned. From that day
on I never step out of the door without taking spirits of ammonia
with me.
(Enter a strolling troop of Italian singers and musicians: a short,
fat tenor, with a reddish beard and large, watery, stupidly dreamy
eyes, singing with extraordinary sweetness; a skinny humpback with
a jockey cap, and a screeching baritone; a bass who is also a
mandolinist, looking like a bandit; a girl with a violin, closing her
eyes when she plays, so that only the whites are seen. They take
their stand and begin to sing: “Sul mare luccica—Santa Lucia, Santa
Lucia—”)
Mary (dismally). Papa, children, look. He is beginning to wave his
hands.
Tourist. Is that the effect the music has upon him?
Military Woman. Quite possible. Music usually goes with such
things. But that’ll make him fall sooner than he should. Musicians, go
away from here! Go!
(A tall tourist, with up-curled mustache, violently gesticulating,
enters, followed by a small group attracted by curiosity.)
Tall Tourist. It’s scandalous. Why don’t they save him? Ladies and
gentlemen, you all heard him shout: “Save me.” Didn’t you?
The Curious (in chorus). Yes, yes, we heard him.
Tall Tourist. There you are. I distinctly heard these words: “Save
me! Why don’t they save me?” It’s scandalous. Policemen,
policemen! Why don’t you save him? What are you doing there?
Policemen. We are cleaning up the place for him to fall.
Tall Tourist. That’s a sensible thing to do, too. But why don’t you
save him? You ought to save him. If a man asks you to save him, it
is absolutely essential to save him. Isn’t it so, ladies and gentlemen?
The Curious (in chorus). True, absolutely true. It is essential to
save him.
Tall Tourist (with heat). We are not heathens, we are Christians.
We should love our neighbors. When a man asks to be saved every
measure which the government has at its command should be taken
to save him. Policeman, have you taken every measure?
Policeman. Every one!
Tall Tourist. Every one without exception? Gentleman, every
measure has been taken. Listen, young man, every measure has
been taken to save you. Did you hear?
Unknown Man (in a scarcely audible voice). Save me!
Tall Tourist (excitedly). Gentlemen, did you hear? He again asked
to be saved. Policeman, did you hear?
One of the Curious (timidly). It is my opinion that it is absolutely
necessary to save him.
Tall Tourist. That’s right. Exactly. Why, that’s what I have been
saying for the last two hours. Policeman, do you hear? It is
scandalous.
One of the Curious (a little bolder). It is my opinion that an appeal
should be made to the highest authority.
The Rest (in chorus). Yes, yes, a complaint should be made. It is
scandalous. The government ought not to leave any of its citizens in
danger. We all pay taxes. He must be saved.
Tall Tourist. Didn’t I say so? Of course we must put up a
complaint. Young man! Listen, young man. Do you pay taxes? What?
I can’t hear.
Tourist. Jimmie, Katie, listen! What a tragedy! Ah, the poor young
man! He is soon to fall and they ask him to pay a domiciliary tax.
Kate (the girl with glasses, pedantically). That can hardly be called
a domicile, father. The meaning of domicile is—
James (pinching her). Lickspittle.
Mary (wearily). Papa, children, look! He’s again beginning to fall.
(There is excitement in the crowd, and again a bustling and
shouting among the photographers.)
Tall Tourist. We must hurry, ladies and gentlemen. He must be
saved at any cost. Who’s going with me?
The Curious (in chorus). We are all going! We are all going?
Tall Tourist. Policeman, did you hear? Come, ladies and
gentlemen!
(They depart, fiercely gesticulating. The café grows more lively.
The sound of clinking beer glasses and the clatter of steins is heard,
and the beginning of a loud German song. The bartender, who has
forgotten himself while talking to somebody, starts suddenly and
runs off, looks up to the sky with a hopeless air and wipes the
perspiration from his face with his napkin. Angry calls of Waiter!
Waiter!)
Unknown Man (rather loudly). Can you let me have some soda
water?
(The waiter is startled, looks at the sky, glances at the man on the
rock, and pretending not to have heard him, walks away.)
Many Voices. Waiter! Beer!
Waiter. One moment, one moment!
(Two drunken men come out from the café.)
Lady. Ah, there is my husband. Come here quick.
Military Woman. A downright brute.
Drunken Man (waving his hand to the unknown man). Say, is it very
bad up there? Hey?
Unknown Man (rather loudly). Yes, it’s bad. I am sick and tired of it.
Drunken Man. Can’t you get a drink?
Unknown Man. No, how can I?
Second Drunken Man. Say, what are you talking about? How can he
get a drink? The man is about to die and you tempt him and try to
get him excited. Listen, up there, we have been drinking your health
right along. It won’t hurt you, will it?
First Drunken Man. Ah, go on! What are you talking about? How
can it hurt him? Why, it will only do him good. It will encourage him.
Listen, honest to God, we are very sorry for you, but don’t mind us.
We are going to the café to have another drink. Good-bye.
Second Drunken Man. Look, what a crowd.
First Drunken Man. Come, or he’ll fall and then they’ll close the
café.
(Enter a new crowd of tourists, a very elegant gentleman, the
chief correspondent of European newspapers at their head. He is
followed by an ecstatic whisper of respect and admiration. Many
leave the café to look at him, and even the waiter turns slightly
around, glances at him quickly, smiles happily and continues on his
way, spilling something from his tray.)
Voices. The correspondent! The correspondent! Look!
Lady. Oh, my, and my husband is gone again!
Tourist. Jimmie, Mary, Aleck, Katie, Charlie, look! This is the chief
correspondent. Do you realize it? The very highest of all. Whatever
he writes goes.
Kate. Mary, dear, again you are not looking.
Aleck. I wish you would order some sandwiches for us. I can’t
stand it any longer. A human being has to eat.
Tourist (ecstatically). What a tragedy! Katie dear, can you realize
it? Consider how awful. The weather is so beautiful, and the chief
correspondent. Take out your note-book, Jimmie.
James. I lost it, father.
Correspondent. Where is he?
Voices (obligingly). There, there he is. There! A little higher. Still
higher! A little lower! No, higher!
Correspondent. If you please, if you please, ladies and gentlemen, I
will find him myself. Oh, yes, there he is. Hm! What a situation!
Tourist. Won’t you have a chair?
Correspondent. Thank you. (Sits down.) Hm! What a situation! Very
interesting. Very interesting, indeed. (Whisks out his note-book;
amiably to the photographers.) Have you taken any pictures yet,
gentlemen?
First Photographer. Yes, sir, certainly, certainly. We have
photographed the place showing the general character of the locality
—
Second Photographer. The tragic situation of the young man—
Correspondent. Ye-es, very, very interesting.
Tourist. Did you hear, Aleck? This smart man, the chief
correspondent, says it’s interesting, and you keep bothering about
sandwiches. Dunce!
Aleck. May be he has had his dinner already.
Correspondent. Ladies and gentlemen, I beg you to be quiet.
Obliging Voices. It is quieter in the café.
Correspondent (shouts to the unknown man). Permit me to
introduce myself. I am the chief correspondent of the European
press. I have been sent here at the special request of the editors. I
should like to ask you several questions concerning your situation.
What is your name? What is your general position? How old are you?
(The unknown man mumbles something.)
Correspondent (a little puzzled). I can’t hear a thing. Has he been
that way all the time?
Voices. Yes, it’s impossible to hear a word he says.
Correspondent (jotting down something in his note-book). Fine! Are
you a bachelor? (The unknown man mumbles.)
Correspondent. I can’t hear you. Are you married? Yes?
Tourist. He said he was a bachelor.
Second Tourist. No, he didn’t. Of course, he’s married.
Correspondent (carelessly). You think so? All right. We’ll put down,
married. How many children have you? Can’t hear! It seems to me
he said three. Hm! Anyway, we’ll put down five.
Tourist. Oh, my, what a tragedy. Five children! Imagine!
Military Woman. He is lying.
Correspondent (shouting). How did you get into this position?
What? I can’t hear? Louder! Repeat. What did you say? (Perplexed,
to the crowd.) What did he say? The fellow has a devilishly weak
voice.
First Tourist. It seems to me he said that he lost his way.
Second Tourist. No, he doesn’t know himself how he got there.
Voices. He was out hunting.—He was climbing up the rocks.—No,
no! He is simply a lunatic!
Correspondent. I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon, ladies and
gentlemen! Anyway, he didn’t drop from the sky. However— (He
quickly jots down in his note-book.) Unhappy young man—suffering
from childhood with attacks of lunacy.—The bright light of the full
moon—the wild rocks.—Sleepy janitor—didn’t notice—
First Tourist (to the second, in a whisper). But it’s new moon now.
Second Tourist. Go, what does a layman know about astronomy.
Tourist (ecstatically). Mary, pay attention to this! You have before
you an ocular demonstration of the influence of the moon on living
organisms. What a terrible tragedy to go out walking on a moonlit
night and find suddenly that you have climbed to a place whence it
is impossible to climb down or be taken down.
Correspondent (shouting). What feelings are you experiencing? I
can’t hear. Louder! Ah, so? Well, well! What a situation!
Crowd (interested). Listen, listen! Let’s hear what his feelings are.
How terrible!
Correspondent (writes in his note-book, tossing out detached
remarks). Mortal terror numbs his limbs.—A cold shiver goes down
his spinal column.—No hope.—Before his mental vision rises a
picture of family bliss: Wife making sandwiches; his five children
innocently lisping their love.—Grandma in the arm-chair with a tube
to her ear, that is, grandpa in the arm-chair, with a tube to his ear
and grandma.—Deeply moved by the sympathy of the public.—His
last wish before his death that the words he uttered with his last
breath should be published in our newspapers—
Military Woman (indignantly). My! He lies like a salesman.
Mary (wearily). Papa, children, look, he is starting to fall again.
Tourist (angrily). Don’t bother me. Such a tragedy is unfolding
itself right before your very eyes—and you— What are you making
such big eyes for again?
Correspondent (shouting). Hold on fast. That’s it! My last question:
What message do you wish to leave for your fellow citizens before
you depart for the better world?
Unknown Man. That they may all go to the devil.
Correspondent. What? Hm, yes— (He writes quickly.) Ardent love—
is a stanch opponent of the law granting equal rights to negroes. His
last words: “Let the black niggers—”
Pastor (out of breath, pushing through the crowd). Where is he?
Ah, there! Poor young man. Has there been no clergyman here yet?
No? Thank you. Am I the first?
Correspondent (writes). A touching dramatic moment.—A minister
has arrived.—All are trembling on the verge of suspense. Many are
shedding tears—
Pastor. Excuse me, excuse me! Ladies and gentlemen, a lost soul
wishes to make its peace with God— (He shouts.) My son, don’t you
wish to make your peace with God? Confess your sins to me. I will
grant you remission at once! What? I cannot hear?
Correspondent (writes). The air is shaken with the people’s groans.
The minister of the church exhorts the criminal, that is, the
unfortunate man, in touching language.—The unfortunate creature
with tears in his eyes thanks him in a faint voice—
Unknown Man (faintly). If you won’t go away I will jump on your
head. I weigh three hundred pounds. (All jump away frightened
behind each other.)
Voices. He is falling! He is falling!
Tourist (agitatingly). Mary, Aleck, Jimmie.
Policeman (energetically). Clear the place, please! Move on!
Lady. Nellie, go quick and tell your father he is falling.
Photographer (in despair). Oh my, I am out of films (tosses madly
about, looking pitifully at the unknown man). One minute, I’ll go and
get them. I have some in my overcoat pocket over there. (He walks
a short distance, keeping his eyes fixed on the unknown man, and
then returns.) I can’t, I am afraid I’ll miss it. Good heavens! They
are over there in my overcoat. Just one minute, please. I’ll fetch
them right away. What a fix.
Pastor. Hurry, my friend. Pull yourself together and try to hold out
long enough to tell me at least your principal sins. You needn’t
mention the lesser ones.
Tourist. What a tragedy?
Correspondent (writes). The criminal, that is, the unhappy man,
makes a public confession and does penance. Terrible secrets
revealed. He is a bank robber—blew up safes.
Tourist (credulously). The scoundrel.
Pastor (shouts). In the first place, have you killed? Secondly, have
you stolen? Thirdly, have you committed adultery?
Tourist. Mary, Jimmie, Katie, Aleck, Charlie, close your ears.
Correspondent (writing). Tremendous excitement in the crowd.—
Shouts of indignation.
Pastor (hurriedly). Fourthly, have you blasphemed? Fifthly, have
you coveted your neighbor’s ass, his ox, his slave, his wife? Sixthly—
Photographer (alarmed). Ladies and gentlemen, an ass!
Second Photographer. Where? I can’t see it!
Photographer (calmed). I thought I heard it.
Pastor. I congratulate you, my son! I congratulate you! You have
made your peace with God. Now you may rest easy—Oh, God, what
do I see? The Salvation Army! Policeman, chase them away!
(Enter a Salvation Army band, men and women in uniforms. There
are only three instruments, a drum, a violin and a piercingly shrill
trumpet.)
Salvation Army Man (frantically beating his drum and shouting in a
nasal voice). Brethren and sisters—
Pastor (shouting even louder in a still more nasal voice in an effort
to drown the other’s). He has already confessed. Bear witness, ladies
and gentlemen, that he has confessed and made his peace with
heaven.
Salvation Army Woman (climbing on a rock and shrieking). I once
wandered in the dark just as this sinner and I lived a bad life and
was a drunkard, but when the light of truth—
A Voice. Why, she is drunk now.
Pastor. Policeman, didn’t he confess and make his peace with
heaven?
(The Salvation Army man continues to beat his drum frantically;
the rest begin to drawl a song. Shouts, laughter, whistling. Singing in
the café, and calls of “Waiter!” in all languages. The bewildered
policemen tear themselves away from the pastor, who is pulling
them somewhere; the photographers turn and twist about as if the
seats were burning under them. An English lady comes riding in on a
donkey, who, stopping suddenly, sprawls out his legs and refuses to
go farther, adding his noise to the rest. Gradually the noise subsides.
The Salvation Army band solemnly withdraws, and the pastor,
waving his hands, follows them.)
First English Tourist (to the other). How impolite! This crowd
doesn’t know how to behave itself.
Second English Tourist. Come, let’s go away from here.
First English Tourist. One minute. (He shouts.) Listen, won’t you
hurry up and fall?
Second English Tourist. What are you saying, Sir William?
First English Tourist (shouting). Don’t you see that’s what they are
waiting for? As a gentleman you should grant them this pleasure and
so escape the humiliation of undergoing tortures before this mob.
Second English Tourist. Sir William.
Tourist (ecstatically). See? It’s true. Aleck, Jimmie, it’s true. What
a tragedy!
Several Tourists (going for the Englishman). How dare you?
First English Tourist (shoving them aside). Hurry up and fall! Do
you hear? If you haven’t the backbone I’ll help you out with a pistol
shot.
Voices. That red-haired devil has gone clear out of his mind.
Policeman (seizing the Englishman’s hand). You have no right to do
it, it’s against the law. I’ll arrest you.
Some Tourists. A barbarous nation!
(The unknown man shouts something. Excitement below.)
Voices. Hear, hear, hear!
Unknown Man (aloud). Take that jackass away to the devil. He
wants to shoot me. And tell the boss that I can’t stand it any longer.
Voices. What’s that? What boss? He is losing his mind, the poor
man.
Tourist. Aleck! Mary! This is a mad scene. Jimmie, you remember
Hamlet? Quick.
Unknown Man (angrily). Tell him my spinal column is broken.
Mary (wearily). Papa, children, he’s beginning to kick with his legs.
Kate. Is that what is called convulsions, papa?
Tourist (rapturously). I don’t know. I think it is. What a tragedy?
Aleck (glumly). You fool! You keep cramming and cramming and
you don’t know that the right name for that is agony. And you wear
eye-glasses, too. I can’t bear it any longer, papa.
Tourist. Think of it, children. A man is about to fall down to his
death and he is bothering about his spinal column.
(There is a noise. A man in a white vest, very much frightened,
enters, almost dragged by angry tourists. He smiles, bows on all
sides, stretches out his arms, now running forward as he is pushed,
now trying to escape in the crowd, but is seized and pulled again.)
Voices. A bare-faced deception! It is an outrage. Policeman,
policeman, he must be taught a lesson!
Other Voices. What is it? What deception? What is it all about?
They have caught a thief!
The Man in the White Vest (bowing and smiling). It’s a joke, ladies
and gentlemen, a joke, that’s all. The people were bored, so I
wanted to provide a little amusement for them.
Unknown Man (angrily). Boss!
The Man in the White Vest. Wait a while, wait a while.
Unknown Man. Do you expect me to stay here until the Second
Advent? The agreement was till twelve o’clock. What time is it now?
Tall Tourist (indignantly). Do you hear, ladies and gentlemen? This
scoundrel, this man here in the white vest hired that other scoundrel
up there and just simply tied him to the rock.
Voices. Is he tied?
Tall Tourist. Yes, he is tied and he can’t fall. We are excited and
worrying, but he couldn’t fall even if he tried.
Unknown Man. What else do you want? Do you think I am going to
break my neck for your measly ten dollars? Boss, I can’t stand it any
more. One man wanted to shoot me. The pastor preached me for
two hours. This is not in the agreement.
Aleck. Father, I told you that Baedecker lies. You believe
everything anybody tells you and drag us about without eating.