That a gifted young writer, one of the most significant novelists in America today—or outside of it, since he lives for the present in Europe—may be egregiously interested in the naive unfolding of the character of his own child rather than in an academic discussion of his books, was evinced yesterday by F. Scott Fitzgerald, the author of “This Side of Paradise,” “Flappers and Philosophers” and “The Great Gatsby,” when he was approached by a reporter of The New York Herald. “The Great Gatsby” has been recently acclaimed by critics in the United States, including Messrs. Mencken, Ernest Boyd, Carl Van Vechten and Gilbert Seldes, as not only the most competent work from the hand of Mr. Fitzgerald, but one of the finest novels of the decade. The book has sold over twenty-five thousand copies already and is among the best-sellers.
Mr. Fitzgerald demurred at of these things and turned to Mrs. Fitzgerald for confirmation of a rollicking tale of which their little daughter “Scotty” Fitzgerald, who is only two and a half years old, was the heroine. The story contains a number of outstanding characters besides little “Scotty”, the most important one being Mr. Gerald Murphy, the artist. The scene of the action or the “location” is Antibes. Imagine a car, then, with wheels painted a gorgeous motley, hung with water-colored festoons and desked out as though for a wedding. The original idea flowered in the brain of Mr. Murphy, genial arbiter elegantiarum of the American and English colony at Antibes. Behind the nuptials, then, serving merely as a backdrop for the mysterious bride and groom. Their appearance on the scene is breathlessly awaited by a wedding party of about forty persons armed with rice, flowers and old shoes, according to the well-known barbaric custom.
At last, the bride emerges, clad in sea-blue, bestowing lavish smiles upon the assembled guests. She is the inimitable blue-eyed “Scotty” herself. Holding out his hand for the round blushing bride to cling to—or holding it low down, to be exact—enters the bridegroom, a model of sartorial and continual correctitude, Mr. Gerald Murphy. The bride and groom vanish apprehensively into the car; the klaxon emits a mellow short, and off whirs the car in golden fields of marital asphodel somewhere beyond.
This is the tale of the Dutch wedding of “Scotty” and Gerald Murphy on “location” at Antibes, as graphically related by Mr. Fitzgerald and his wife, each adding a cherished touch, a poignantly beautiful or humorous word here and there, to sharpen or spice the wholly engaging narrative. When “Scotty” was finally seen reposing in her nursery, a reminiscent smile was up on her lips—a wise smile that seemed too old and Beautiful.
Published in unlocated newspaper (1925).