W. C. Fields : his follies and fortunes (1949)

a kind of overseas fillip, for dignity. The English audiences received him with the greatest generosity. By American standards, and most others, the average Briton's idea of humor is a fairly dark and embarrassing business. One of England's best-loved critics reviewed Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad, upon its publication, in a perfectly sober and disgusted vein. The book was full of exaggerations, the critic said, and was, in his opinion, worthless as a travel guide. He took exception to Twain's finding, in the Colosseum at Rome, a yellowed program of an evening's entertainment, giving a line-up of Christians about to face the lions, and other events. It was unlikely, said the critic, that any such bill could have survived all these years in the Colosseum dust. An American publisher later printed the criticism, together with Twain's sulphurous letter of reply, in an anthology, where they will remain for all time as an interlocking tribute to the literal mind. Fields had been forewarned about Englishmen and humor, and he approached his first performance in a taut condition. But his worry was energy wasted; everything he did was received with clamorous appreciation. In fact, the English were so nice to Fields, both on stage and off, that the law of diminishing returns started to set in. Their politeness bothered him; daily it grew more onerous. At length he took a short trip to Ireland, where he'd heard that people were occasionally rude. When he returned, Fields could no longer resist his impulse to take advantage of the English. Strolling about, he had observed dressed fowls hanging outside poulterers' shops, a negligent form of display, he reflected, that would have meant certain bankruptcy in his old Philadelphia days. He bought a cheap but commodious knapsack and began to take walking tours. His line of march was concentrated in the areas heaviest with poultry shops. Wending his friendly way, he carefully filled the sack, 87