Thread: Mrs. Buttons -- Or, How I Became a Conservative

Mrs. Buttons -- Or, How I Became a Conservative PDF | Print | E-mail
Written by Taylor Caldwell
Thursday, 14 January 2010 11:55
As a novelist, Taylor Caldwell was an American master, on par with, or superior to, virtually any other novelist born in America in the 20th century. Her phenomenal success supports the contention — during her illustrious career, Caldwell wrote more than 40 novels, many of which were outstanding best sellers. Her books sold an estimated 30 million copies. Among her most famous were Dear and Glorious Physician (about Saint Luke), A Pillar of Iron (about the Roman statesman Cicero), and Great Lion of God (about Saint Paul). One of her most beloved novels, Captains and the Kings, was made into a television miniseries. In addition to her work as a novelist, for many years she contributed outstanding essays to American Opinion magazine, the forerunner of The New American. As part of a continuing series revisiting her work, we reprint here "Mrs. Buttons," one of her most beloved to American Opinion.

RECENTLY A FLOWERY Young "Liberal" male with flowing hair and flowing hands ⎯ and a flowing tongue, too ⎯ demanded of me that I explain why and when I became a "Conservative." He wanted to know how I got this way.

Frankly, I couldn't remember just how and when, and I went home musing to myself. I searched my memory and soon it all began to click in my mind, episode after episode ⎯ all of them very painful one way or another. There are doubtless a hundred psychiatrists around who will find the following recounting of those formative experiences very interesting.

I

IT ALL BEGAN, doctors, when I was a child. A "Liberal" aunt of mine, who had never herself been in need of anything material, had a deep passion for the Poor, from whom she was very careful to keep far, far away. While we still lived in England, where I was born, Auntie would frequently gather together outworn garments which her family had discarded and prepare them for the Women's Guild of our local Anglican Church. She would sit before the fireplace, I recall, and singing some sad Scots or Irish ballad in a very moving soprano, she would carefully snip every single, solitary button off the clothing.

I was very young indeed when this practice of Auntie's suddenly seemed outrageous to me. "Auntie," I demanded, "what will the Poor do for buttons?"

Auntie had very remarkable hazel and glittering eyes, and they usually glittered on me unpleasantly. They did so now. "They can buy them," she snapped. "They're only tuppence a card."

I pondered. If people were so poor that they had to wear other people's cast-offs then they certainly were too poor to buy buttons. I pointed this out to Auntie. She smacked me fiercely for my trouble and then began to shriek.

"A wicked, wicked girl!" screamed Auntie. "She has no Heart for the Poor!"

My uncle, hearing Auntie's shrill cries, stormed out of his studio and demanded, "Now, what the hell's the matterâ€

WOW! Very powerful and oh-so-true!