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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 + + +Title: A Frenchman in America + Recollections of Men and Things + +Author: Max O'Rell + +Release Date: May 5, 2010 [EBook #32261] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FRENCHMAN IN AMERICA *** + + + + +Produced by Marius Masi, Chris Curnow and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:404px; height:610px" src="images/img000.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + +<div class="pt3"> </div> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>A FRENCHMAN IN AMERICA.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:356px; height:630px" src="images/img005.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<div class="verd"> +<p class="center f150 col"><i>A FRENCHMAN IN AMERICA</i></p> + + +<p class="center pt3 f90">Recollections of Men and Things</p> + +<p class="center pt3 f80">BY</p> +<p class="center f120">MAX O’RELL</p> + +<p class="center pt5 f80">AUTHOR OF “JONATHAN AND HIS CONTINENT,” “JOHN BULL, JUNIOR,” +“JACQUES BONHOMME,” “JOHN BULL AND HIS ISLAND,” ETC.</p> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="center f90">WITH OVER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY ILLUSTRATIONS +BY E. W. KEMBLE</p> +<hr class="short" /> +</div> + +<p class="pt5 center"><span class="f90">NEW YORK</span><br /> +CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> +<span class="f80 sc">104 & 106 Fourth Avenue</span></p> + + +<p class="pt5 center sc"><span class="f80">Copyright, 1891, by</span><br /> +<span class="f90">CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY.</span><br /> + +<span class="f80"><i>All rights reserved.</i></span></p> + +<p class="f70 rt pt2">THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,</p> +<p class="f70" style="text-align: right; padding-right: 5em;">RAHWAY, N. J.</p> +<hr class="art" /> + +<h3>CONTENTS.</h3> + +<table class="nobctr" width="90%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td class="tc3"><span class="f70">CHAPTER.</span></td> + <td class="tc2b"><span class="f70">PAGE.</span></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">I.—Departure—The Atlantic—Demoralization of the “Boarders”—Betting—The +Auctioneer—An Inquisitive Yankee,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page1">1</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">II.—Arrival of the Pilot—First Look at American Newspapers,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page11">11</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">III.—Arrival—The Custom House—Things Look Bad—The Interviewers—First +Visits—Things Look Brighter—“O Vanity +of Vanities,”</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page14">14</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">IV.—Impressions of American Hotels,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page25">25</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">V.—My Opening Lecture—Reflections on Audiences I Have +Had—The Man who Won’t Smile—The One who Laughs +too Soon, and Many Others,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page37">37</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">VI.—A Connecticut Audience—Merry Meriden—A Hard Pull,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page48">48</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">VII—A Tempting Offer—The Thursday Club—Bill Nye—Visit to +Young Ladies’ Schools—The Players’ Club,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page52">52</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">VIII.—The Flourishing of Coats-of-Arms in America—Reflections +Thereon—Forefathers Made to Order—The Phonograph at +Home—The Wealth of New York—Departure for Buffalo,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page60">60</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">IX.—Different Ways of Advertising a Lecture—American Impressarios +and Their Methods,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page66">66</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">X.—Buffalo—The Niagara Falls—A Frost—Rochester to the +Rescue of Buffalo—Cleveland—I Meet Jonathan—Phantasmagoria,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page74">74</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XI.—A Great Admirer—Notes on Railway Traveling—Is America +a Free Nation?—A Pleasant Evening in New York,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page81">81</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XII.—Notes on American Women—Comparisons—How Men +Treat Women and Vice Versa—Scenes and Illustrations,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page90">90</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XIII.—More about Journalism in America—A Dinner at Delmonico’s—My +First Appearance in an American Church,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page110">110</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XIV.—Marcus Aurelius in America—Chairmen I Have Had—American, +English, and Scotch Chairmen—One who had +Been to Boulogne—Talkative and Silent Chairmen—A Trying +Occasion—The Lord is Asked to Allow the Audience to +See my Points,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page124">124</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XV.—Reflections on the Typical American,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page137">137</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XVI.—I am Asked to Express Myself Freely on America—I Meet +Mrs. Blank and for the First Time Hear of Mr. Blank—Beacon +Street Society—The Boston Clubs,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page149">149</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XVII.—A Lively Sunday in Boston—Lecture in the Boston Theater—Dr. +Oliver Wendell Holmes—The Booth-Modjeska +Combination,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page156">156</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XVIII—St. Johnsbury—The State of Maine—New England Self-control—Cold +Climates and Frigid Audiences—Where is the +Audience?—All Drunk!—A Reminiscence of a Scotch Audience +on a Saturday Night,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page163">163</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XIX.—A Lovely Ride to Canada—Quebec, a Corner of Old France +Strayed up and Lost in the Snow—The French Canadians—The +Parties in Canada—Will the Canadians become Yankees?</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page172">172</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XX.—Montreal—The City—Mount Royal—Canadian Sports—Ottawa—The +Government—Rideau Hall,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page182">182</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXI.—Toronto—The City—The Ladies—The Sports—Strange +Contrasts—The Canadian Schools,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page191">191</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXII.—West Canada—Relations between British and Indians—Return +to the United States—Difficulties in the Way—Encounter +with an American Custom-House Officer,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page196">196</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXIII.—Chicago (First Visit)—The “Neighborhood” of Chicago—The +History of Chicago—Public Servants—A Very Deaf +Man,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page203">203</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXIV.—St. Paul and Minneapolis, the Sister Cities—Rivalries and +Jealousies between Large American Cities—Minnehaha Falls—Wonderful +Interviewers—My Hat gets into Trouble Again—Electricity +in the Air—Forest Advertisements—Railway +Speed in America,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page224">214</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXV.—Detroit—The Town—The Detroit “Free Press”—A Lady +Interviewer—The “Unco Guid” in Detroit—Reflections on +the Anglo-Saxon “Unco Guid,”</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page222">222</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXVI.—Milwaukee—A Well-filled Day—Reflections on the Scotch +in America—Chicago Criticisms,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page236">236</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXVII.—The Monotony of Traveling in the States—“Manon +Lescaut” in America,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page244">244</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXVIII.—For the First Time I See an American Paper Abuse Me—Albany +to New York—A Lecture at Daly’s Theater—Afternoon +Audiences,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page248">248</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXIX.—Wanderings Through New York—Lecture at the Harmonie +Club—Visit to the Century Club,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page255">255</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXX.—Visit to the Brooklyn Academy of Music—Rev. Dr. Talmage,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page257">257</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXI.—Virginia—The Hotels—The South—I will Kill a Railway +Conductor before I Leave America—Philadelphia—Impressions +of the Old City,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page263">263</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXII.—My Ideas of the State of Texas—Why I will not Go +There—The Story of a Frontier Man,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page274">274</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXIII.—Cincinnati—The Town—The Suburbs—A German City—“Over +the Rhine”—What is a Good Patriot?—An Impressive +Funeral—A Great Fire—How It Appeared to Me, +and How It Appeared to the Newspaper Reporters,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page279">279</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXIV.—A Journey if you Like—Terrible Encounter with an +American Interviewer,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page296">296</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXV.—The University of Indiana—Indianapolis—The Veterans +of the Grand Army of the Republic on the Spree—A Marvelous +Equilibrist,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page306">306</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXVI.—Chicago (Second Visit)—Vassili Verestchagin’s Exhibition—The +“Angelus”—Wagner and Wagnerites—Wanderings +About the Big City—I Sit on the Tribunal,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page311">311</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXVII.—Ann Arbor—The University of Michigan—Detroit +Again—The French Out of France—Oberlin College, Ohio—Black +and White—Are All American Citizens Equal?</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page322">322</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXVIII.—Mr. and Mrs. Kendal in New York—Joseph Jefferson—Julian +Hawthorne—Miss Ada Rehan—“As You Like It” +at Daly’s Theater,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page330">330</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XXXIX.—Washington—The City—Willard’s Hotel—The Politicians—General +Benjamin Harrison, U. S. President—Washington +Society—Baltimore—Philadelphia,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page332">332</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XL.—Easter Sunday in New York,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page342">342</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XLI.—I Mount the Pulpit and Preach on the Sabbath, in the State +of Wisconsin—The Audience is Large and Appreciative; but +I Probably Fail to Please One of the Congregation,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page347">347</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XLII.—The Origin of American Humor and Its Characteristics—The +Sacred and the Profane—The Germans and American +Humor—My Corpse Would “Draw,” in my Impressario’s +Opinion,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page353">353</a></td> </tr> + +<tr><td class="tc3">XLIII.—Good-by to America—Not “Adieu,” but “Au Revoir”—On +Board the <i>Teutonic</i>—Home Again,</td> + <td class="tc2b"><a href="#page361">361</a></td> </tr> + +</table> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<hr class="full" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>1</span></p> +<p class="col sc verd f120 center"><b>A Frenchman in America.</b></p> +<hr class="full" /> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Departure—The Atlantic—Demoralization of +the “Boarders”—Betting—The Auctioneer—An +Inquisitive Yankee.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>On board the “Celtic,” Christmas Week,</i> 1889.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">In</span> the order of things the <i>Teutonic</i> was to have +sailed to-day, but the date is the 25th of December, +and few people elect to eat their Christmas dinner +on the ocean if they can avoid it; so there are only +twenty-five saloon passengers, and they have been committed +to the brave little <i>Celtic</i>, while that huge floating +palace, the <i>Teutonic</i>, remains in harbor.</p> + +<p>Little <i>Celtic</i>! Has it come to this with her and her +companions, the <i>Germanic</i>, the <i>Britannic</i>, and the rest +that were the wonders and the glory of the ship-building +craft a few years ago? There is something almost +sad in seeing these queens of the Atlantic dethroned, +and obliged to rank below newer and grander ships. +It was even pathetic to hear the remarks of the sailors, +as we passed the <i>Germanic</i> who, in her day, had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>2</span> +created even more wondering admiration than the two +famous armed cruisers lately added to the “White +Star” fleet.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I know nothing more monotonous than a voyage +from Liverpool to New York.</p> + +<p>Nine times out of ten—not to say ninety-nine times +out of a hundred—the passage is bad. The Atlantic +Ocean has an ugly temper; it has forever got its back +up. Sulky, angry, and terrible by turns, it only takes +a few days’ rest out of every year, and this always occurs +when you are not crossing.</p> + +<p>And then, the wind is invariably against you. +When you go to America, it blows from the west; +when you come back to Europe, it blows from the east. +If the captain steers south to avoid icebergs, it is sure +to begin to blow southerly.</p> + +<p>Doctors say that sea-sickness emanates from the brain. +I can quite believe them. The blood rushes to your +head, leaving your extremities cold and helpless. All +the vital force flies to the brain, and your legs refuse +to carry you. It is with sea-sickness as it is with wine. +When people say that a certain wine goes up in the +head, it means that it is more likely to go down to the +feet.</p> + +<p>There you are, on board a huge construction that +rears and kicks like a buck-jumper. She lifts you up +bodily, and, after well shaking all your members in the +air several seconds, lets them down higgledy-piggledy, +leaving to Providence the business of picking them up +and putting them together again. That is the kind of +thing one has to go through about sixty times an hour. +And there is no hope for you; nobody dies of it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>3</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:458px; height:630px" src="images/img014.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“YOUR LEGS REFUSE TO CARRY YOU.”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" id="page4"></a>4</span></p> + +<p>Under such conditions, the mental state of the boarders +may easily be imagined. They smoke, they play +cards, they pace the deck like bruin pacing a cage; or +else they read, and forget at the second chapter all they +have read in the first. A few presumptuous ones try +to think, but without success. The ladies, the American +ones more especially, lie on their deck chairs +swathed in rugs and shawls like Egyptian mummies in +their sarcophagi, and there they pass from ten to +twelve hours a day motionless, hopeless, helpless, +speechless. Some few incurables keep to their cabins +altogether, and only show their wasted faces when it is +time to debark. Up they come, with cross, stupefied, +pallid, yellow-green-looking physiognomies, and seeming +to say: “Speak to me, if you like, but don’t expect +me to open my eyes or answer you, and above all, +don’t shake me.”</p> + +<p>Impossible to fraternize.</p> + +<p>The crossing now takes about six days and a half. +By the time you have spent two in getting your sea +legs on, and three more in reviewing, and being reviewed +by your fellow-passengers, you will find yourself +at the end of your troubles—and your voyage.</p> + +<p>No, people do not fraternize on board ship, during +such a short passage, unless a rumor runs from cabin +to cabin that there has been some accident to the machinery, +or that the boat is in imminent danger. At the +least scare of this kind, every one looks at his neighbor +with eyes that are alarmed, but amiable, nay, even +amicable. But as soon as one can say: “We have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>5</span> +come off with a mere scare this time,” all the facial +traits stiffen once more, and nobody knows anybody.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:630px; height:551px" src="images/img016.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“LIKE EGYPTIAN MUMMIES.”</p></div> + +<p>Universal grief only will bring about universal +brotherhood. We must wait till the Day of Judgment. +When the world is passing away, oh! how +men will forgive and love one another! What +outpourings of good-will and affection there will +be! How touching, how edifying will be the sight! +The universal republic will be founded in the +twinkling of an eye, distinctions of creed and +class forgotten. The author will embrace the +critic and even the publisher, the socialist open +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>6</span> +his arms to the capitalist. The married men will be +seen “making it up” with their mothers-in-law, begging +them to forgive and forget, and admitting that +they had not been always quite so-so, in fact, as they +might have been. If the Creator of all is a philosopher, +or enjoys humor, how he will be amused to +see all the various sects of Christians, who have passed +their lives in running one another down, throw themselves +into one another’s arms. It will be a scene +never to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>Yes, I repeat it, the voyage from Liverpool to New +York is monotonous and wearisome in the extreme. +It is an interval in one’s existence, a week more or +less lost, decidedly more than less.</p> + +<p>One grows gelatinous from head to foot, especially +in the upper part of one’s anatomy.</p> + +<p>In order to see to what an extent the brain softens, +you only need look at the pastimes the poor passengers +go in for.</p> + +<p>A state of demoralization prevails throughout.</p> + +<p>They bet. That is the form the disease takes.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:575px; height:620px" src="images/img018.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE AUCTIONEER.</p></div> + +<p>They bet on anything and everything. They bet +that the sun will or will not appear next day at eleven +precisely, or that rain will fall at noon. They bet that +the number of miles made by the boat at twelve o’clock +next day will terminate with 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, or +9. Each draws one of these numbers and pays his +shilling, half-crown, or even sovereign. Then these +numbers are put up at auction. An improvised +auctioneer, with the gift of the gab, puts his talent at +the service of his fellow-passengers. It is really very +funny to see him swaying about the smoking-room +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>7</span> +table, and using all his eloquence over each number in +turn for sale. A good auctioneer will run the bidding +so smartly that the winner of the pool next day often +pockets as much as thirty and forty pounds. On the +eve of arrival in New York harbor, everybody knows +that twenty-four pilots are waiting about for the advent +of the liner, and that each boat carries her number on +her sail. Accordingly, twenty-four numbers are rolled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>8</span> +up and thrown into a cap, and betting begins again. +He who has drawn the number which happens to be +that of the pilot who takes the steamer into harbor +pockets the pool.</p> + +<p>I, who have never bet on anything in my life, even bet +with my traveling companion, when the rolling of the +ship sends our portmanteaus from one side of the +cabin to the other, that mine will arrive first. Intellectual +faculties on board are reduced to this ebb.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The nearest approach to a gay note, in this concert +of groans and grumblings, is struck by some humorous +and good-tempered American. He will come and ask +you the most impossible questions with an ease and +impudence perfectly inimitable. These catechisings +are all the more droll because they are done with a +<i>naïveté</i> which completely disarms you. The phrase is +short, without verb, reduced to its most concise expression. +The intonation alone marks the interrogation. +Here is a specimen.</p> + +<p>We have on board the <i>Celtic</i> an American who is not +a very shrewd person, for it has actually taken him +five days to discover that English is not my native +tongue. This morning (December 30) he found it out, +and, being seated near me in the smoke-room, has just +had the following bit of conversation with me:</p> + +<p>“Foreigner?” said he.</p> + +<p>“Foreigner,” said I, replying in American.</p> + +<p>“German, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Guess again.”</p> + +<p>“French?”</p> + +<p>“Pure blood.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>9</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:410px; height:620px" src="images/img020.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“GOING TO AMERICA?”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>10</span> </p> + +<p>“Married?”</p> + +<p>“Married.”</p> + +<p>“Going to America?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—evidently.”</p> + +<p>“Pleasure trip?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“On business?”</p> + +<p>“On business, yes.”</p> + +<p>“What’s your line?”</p> + +<p>“H’m—French goods.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! what class of goods?”</p> + +<p>“<i>L’article de Paris.</i>”</p> + +<p>“The what?”</p> + +<p>“The <i>ar-ti-cle de Pa-ris</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! yes, the <i>arnticle of Pahrriss</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly so. Excuse <i>my</i> pronunciation.”</p> + +<p>This floored him.</p> + +<p>“Rather impertinent, your smoke-room neighbor!” +you will say.</p> + +<p>Undeceive yourself at once upon that point. It is +not impertinence, still less an intention to offend you, +that urges him to put these incongruous questions to +you. It is the interest he takes in you. The American +is a good fellow; good fellowship is one of his +chief characteristic traits. Of that I became perfectly +convinced during my last visit to the United States.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>11</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">Arrival of the Pilot—First Look at American +Newspapers.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Saturday, January</i> 4, 1890.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">We</span> shall arrive in New York Harbor to-night, +but too late to go on shore. After sunset, +the Custom House officers are not to be disturbed. +We are about to land in a country where, as I remember, +everything is in subjection to the paid servant. +In the United States, he who is paid wages commands.</p> + +<p>We make the best of it. After having mercilessly +tumbled us about for nine days, the wind has graciously +calmed down, and our last day is going to be +a good one, thanks be. There is a pure atmosphere. +A clear line at the horizon divides space into two +immensities, two sheets of blue sharply defined.</p> + +<p>Faces are smoothing out a bit. People talk, are +becoming, in fact, quite communicative. One seems +to say to another: “Why, after all, you don’t look +half as disagreeable as I thought. If I had only +known that, we might have seen more of each other, +and killed time more quickly.”</p> + +<p>The pilot boat is in sight. It comes toward us, and +sends off in a rowing-boat the pilot who will take us +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" id="page12"></a>12</span> +into port. The arrival of the pilot on board is not an +incident. It is an event. Does he not bring the +New York newspapers? And when you have been ten +days at sea, cut off from the world, to read the papers +of the day before is to come back to life again, and +once more take up your +place in this little planet that +has been going on its jog-trot +way during your temporary +suppression.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 400px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:346px; height:400px" src="images/img023.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">PILOT WITH PAPERS.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The first article which +meets my eyes, as I open +the New York <i>World</i>, is +headed “High time for +Mr. Nash to put +a stop to it!” +This is the paragraph:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Ten days ago, +Mrs. Nash brought +a boy into existence. +Three days +afterward she presented +her husband +with a little girl. Yesterday the lady was safely delivered of a +third baby.</p></div> + +<p>“Mrs. Nash takes her time over it” would have been +another good heading.</p> + +<p>Here we are in America. Old World ways don’t obtain +here. In Europe, Mrs. Nash would have ushered +the little trio into this life in one day; but in Europe +we are out of date, <i>rococo</i>, and if one came over to find +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>13</span> +the Americans doing things just as they are done on the +other side, one might as well stay at home.</p> + +<p>I run through the papers.</p> + +<p>America, I see, is split into two camps. Two young +ladies, Miss Nelly Bly and Miss Elizabeth Bisland, +have left New York by opposite routes to go around +the world, the former sent by the New York <i>World</i>, +the latter by the <i>Cosmopolitan</i>. Which will be back +first? is what all America is conjecturing upon. Bets +have been made, and the betting is even. I do not +know Miss Bly, but last time I came over I had the +pleasure of making Miss Bisland’s acquaintance. Naturally, +as soon as I get on shore, I shall bet on Miss +Bisland. You would do the same yourself, would you +not?</p> + +<p>I pass the day reading the papers. All the bits of +news, insignificant or not, given in the shape of crisp, +lively stories, help pass the time. They contain little +information, but much amusement. The American +newspaper always reminds me of a shop window with +all the goods ticketed in a marvelous style, so as to attract +and tickle the eye. You cannot pass over anything. +The leading article is scarcely known across +the “wet spot”; the paper is a collection of bits of +gossip, hearsay, news, scandal, the whole served <i>à la +sauce piquante</i>.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Nine o’clock.</i></p> + +<p>We are passing the bar, and going to anchor. New +York is sparkling with lights, and the Brooklyn Bridge +is a thing of beauty. I will enjoy the scene for an +hour, and then turn in.</p> + +<p>We land to-morrow morning at seven.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>14</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Arrival—The Custom House—Things Look +Bad—The Interviewers—First Visits—Things +Look Brighter—“O Vanity of Vanities.”</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York Harbor; January</i> 5.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">At</span> seven o’clock in the morning the Custom House +officers came on board. One of them at once +recognizing me, said, calling me by name, that he was +glad to see me back, and inquired if I had not brought +Madame with me this time. It is extraordinary the +memory of many of these Americans! This one had +seen me for a few minutes two years before, and probably +had had to deal with two or three hundred thousand +people since.</p> + +<p>All the passengers came to the saloon and made +their declarations one after another, after which they +swore in the usual form that they had told the truth, +and signed a paper to that effect. This done, many a +poor pilgrim innocently imagines that he has finished +with the Custom House, and he renders thanks to +Heaven that he is going to set foot on a soil where a +man’s word is not doubted. He reckons without his +host. In spite of his declaration, sworn and signed, +his trunks are opened and searched with all the +dogged zeal of a policeman who believes he is on the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>15</span> +track of a criminal, and who will only give up after +perfectly convincing himself that the trunks do not +contain the slightest dutiable article. Everything is +taken out and examined. If there are any objects of +apparel that appear like new ones to that scrutinizing +eye, look out for squalls.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:433px; height:500px" src="images/img026.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">CUSTOM HOUSE OFFICERS.</p></div> + +<p>I must say that the officer was very kind to me. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>16</span> +For that matter, the luggage of a man who travels +alone, without Madame and her <i>impedimenta</i>, is soon +examined.</p> + +<p>Before leaving the ship, I went to shake hands with +Captain Parsell, that experienced sailor whose bright, +interesting conversation, added to the tempting delicacies +provided by the cook, made many an hour pass +right cheerily for those who, like myself, had the +good fortune to sit at his table. I thanked him for all +the kind attentions I had received at his hands. I +should have liked to thank all the employees of the +“White Star” line company. Their politeness is +above all praise; their patience perfectly angelical. +Ask them twenty times a day the most absurd questions, +such as, “Will the sea soon calm down?” “Shall +we get into harbor on Wednesday?” “Do you think +we shall be in early enough to land in the evening?” +and so on. You find them always ready with a kind +and encouraging answer. “The barometer is going up +and the sea is going down,” or, “We are now doing our +nineteen knots an hour.” Is it true, or not? It satisfies +you, at all events. In certain cases it is so +sweet to be deceived! Better to be left to nurse a beloved +illusion than have to give it up for a harsh reality +that you are powerless against. Every one is +grateful to those kind sailors and stewards for the +little innocent fibs that they are willing to load their +consciences with, in order that they may brighten your +path across the ocean a little.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Everett House.</i> <i>Noon.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>17</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:430px; height:620px" src="images/img028.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">CAPTAIN PARSELL, R. M. S. “MAJESTIC.”</p></div> + +<p>My baggage examined, I took a cab to go to the +hotel. Three dollars for a mile and a half. A mere +trifle.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:430px; height:365px" src="images/img030.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">EVERY ONE HAS THE GRIPPE.</p></div> + +<p>It was pouring with rain. New York on a Sunday +is never very gay. To-day the city seemed to me horrible: +dull, dirty, and dreary. It is not the fault of +New York altogether. I have the spleen. A horribly +stormy passage, the stomach upside down, the heart up +in the throat, the thought that my dear ones are three +thousand miles away, all these things help to make +everything look black. It would have needed a +radiant sun in one of those pure blue skies that North +America is so rich in to make life look agreeable and +New York passable to-day.</p> + +<p>In ten minutes cabby set me down at the Everett +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>18</span> +House. After having signed the register, I went and +looked up my manager, whose bureau is on the ground +floor of the hotel.</p> + +<p>The spectacle which awaited me was appalling.</p> + +<p>There sat the unhappy Major Pond in his office, his +head bowed upon his chest, his arms hanging limp, the +very picture of despair.</p> + +<p>The country is seized with a panic. Everybody has +the influenza. Every one does not die of it, but every +one is having it. The malady is not called influenza +over here, as it is in Europe. It is called “Grippe.” +No American escapes it. Some have <i>la grippe</i>, others +have <i>the grippe</i>, a few, even, have <i>the la grippe</i>. Others, +again, the lucky ones, think they have it. Those who +have not had it, or do not think they have it yet, +are expecting it. The nation is in a complete state of +demoralization. Theaters are empty, business almost +suspended, doctors on their backs or run off their +legs.</p> + +<p>At twelve a telegram is handed to me. It is from +my friend, Wilson Barrett, who is playing in Philadelphia. +“Hearty greetings, dear friend. Five grains of +quinine and two tablets of antipyrine a day, or you +get <i>grippe</i>.” Then came many letters by every post. +“Impossible to go and welcome you in person. I +have <i>la grippe</i>. Take every precaution.” Such is the +tenor of them all.</p> + +<p>The outlook is not bright. What to do? For a +moment I have half a mind to call a cab and get +on board the first boat bound for Europe.</p> + +<p>I go to my room, the windows of which overlook +Union Square. The sky is somber, the street is black +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>19</span> +and deserted, the air is suffocatingly warm, and a very +heavy rain is beating against the windows.</p> + +<p>Shade of Columbus, how I wish I were home +again!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Cheer up, boy, the hand-grasps of your dear New +York friends will be sweet after the frantic grasping +of stair-rails and other ship furniture for so many +days.</p> + +<p>I will have lunch and go and pay calls.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Excuse me if I leave you for a few minutes. The +interviewers are waiting for me downstairs in Major +Pond’s office. The interviewers! a gay note at last. +The hall porter hands me their cards. They are all +there: representatives of the <i>Tribune</i>, the <i>Times</i>, the +<i>Sun</i>, the <i>Herald</i>, the <i>World</i>, the <i>Star</i>.</p> + +<p>What nonsense Europeans have written on the +subject of interviewing in America, to be sure! To +hear them speak, you would believe that it is the +greatest nuisance in the world.</p> + +<p>A Frenchman writes in the <i>Figaro</i>: “I will go to +America if my life can be insured against that terrific +nuisance, interviewing.”</p> + +<p>An Englishman writes to an English paper, on +returning from America: “When the reporters called +on me, I invariably refused to see them.”</p> + +<p>Trash! Cant! Hypocrisy! With the exception +of a king, or the prime minister of one of the great +powers, a man is only too glad to be interviewed. +Don’t talk to me about the nuisance, tell the truth, +it is always such a treat to hear it. I consider that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>20</span> +interviewing is a compliment, a great compliment paid +to the interviewed. In asking a man to give you his +views, so as to enlighten the public on such and such +a subject, you acknowledge that he is an important +man, which is flattering to him; or you take him for +one, which is more flattering still.</p> + +<p>I maintain that American interviewers are extremely +courteous and obliging, and, as a rule, very faithful +reporters of what you say to them.</p> + +<p>Let me say that I have a lurking doubt in my mind +whether those who have so much to say against interviewing +in America have ever been asked to be interviewed +at all, or have even ever run such a danger.</p> + +<p>I object to interviewing as a sign of decadence in +modern journalism; but I do not object to being +interviewed, I like it; and, to prove it, I will go down +at once, and be interviewed.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Midnight.</i></p> + +<p>The interview with the New York reporters passed +off very well. I went through the operation like a +man.</p> + +<p>After lunch, I went to see Mr. Edmund Clarence +Stedman, who had shown me a great deal of kindness +during my first visit to America. I found in him a +friend ready to welcome me.</p> + +<p>The poet and literary critic is a man of about fifty, +rather below middle height, with a beautifully chiseled +head. In every one of the features you can detect +the artist, the man of delicate, tender, and refined +feelings. It was a great pleasure for me to see him +again. He has finished his “Library of American +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>21</span> +Literature,” a gigantic work of erudite criticism and +judicious compilation, which he undertook a few years +ago in collaboration with Miss Ellen Mackay Hutchinson. +These eleven volumes form a perfect national +monument, a complete cyclopædia of American literature, +giving extracts from the writings of every +American who has published anything for the last +three hundred years (1607-1890).</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:340px; height:350px" src="images/img034.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE INTERVIEWERS.</p></div> + +<p>On leaving him, I went to call on Mrs. Anna Bowman +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>22</span> +Dodd, the author of “Cathedral Days,” “Glorinda,” +“The Republic of the Future,” and other +charming books, and one of the brightest conversationalists +it has ever been my good fortune to meet. +After an hour’s chat with her, I had forgotten all +about the <i>grippe</i>, and all other more or less imaginary +miseries.</p> + +<p>I returned to the Everett House to dress, and went +to the Union League Club to dine with General Horace +Porter.</p> + +<p>The general possesses a rare and most happy combination +of brilliant flashing Parisian wit and dry, quiet, +American humor. This charming <i>causeur</i> and <i>conteur</i> +tells an anecdote as nobody I know can do; he +never misses fire. He assured me at table that the +copyright bill will soon be passed, for, he added, “we +have now a pure and pious Administration. At the +White House they open their oysters with prayer.” +The conversation fell on American society, or, rather, +on American Societies. The highest and lowest of +these can be distinguished by the use of <i>van</i>. “The +blue blood of America put it before their names, as +<i>Van Nicken</i>; political society puts it after, as <i>Sullivan</i>.”</p> + +<p><span class="sc">O Van-itas Van-itatum!</span></p> + +<p>Time passed rapidly in such delightful company.</p> + +<p>I finished the evening at the house of Colonel +Robert G. Ingersoll. If there had been any cloud of +gloom still left hanging about me, it would have vanished +at the sight of his sunny face. There was a +small gathering of some thirty people, among them +Mr. Edgar Fawcett, whose acquaintance I was delighted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>23</span> +to make. Conversation went on briskly with one and +the other, and at half-past eleven I returned to the +hotel completely cured.</p> + +<p>To-morrow morning I leave for Boston at ten o’clock +to begin the lecture tour in that city, or, to use an +Americanism, to “open the show.”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>There is a knock at the door.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:288px; height:340px" src="images/img036.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">HALL PORTER.</p></div> + +<p>It is the hall porter with a letter: an invitation to +dine with the members of the Clover Club at Philadelphia +on Thursday next, the 16th.</p> + +<p>I look at my list of engagements and find I am in +Pittsburg on that day. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>24</span> </p> + +<p>I take a telegraph form and pen the following, which +I will send to my friend, Major M. P. Handy, the +president of this lively association:</p> + +<p>Many thanks. Am engaged in Pittsburg on the 16th. Thank +God, cannot attend your dinner.</p> + +<p>I remember how those “boys” cheeked me two +years ago, laughed at me, sat on me. That’s my telegram +to you, dear Cloverites, with my love.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:37px" src="images/img037.jpg" alt="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>25</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">Impressions of American Hotels.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Boston</i>, <i>January</i> 6.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Arrived</span> here this afternoon, and resumed acquaintance +with American hotels.</p> + +<p>American hotels are all alike.</p> + +<p>Some are worse.</p> + +<p>Describe one and you have described them all.</p> + +<p>On the ground floor, a large entrance hall strewed +with cuspidores for the men, and a side entrance provided +with a triumphal arch for the ladies. On this +floor the sexes are separated as at the public baths.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:412px; height:500px" src="images/img039.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE SAD-EYED CLERK.</p></div> + +<p>In the large hall, a counter behind which solemn +clerks, whose business faces relax not a muscle, are +ready with their book to enter your name and assign +you a number. A small army of colored porters ready +to take you in charge. Not a salute, not a word, not +a smile of welcome. The negro takes your bag and +makes a sign that your case is settled. You follow +him. For the time being you lose your personality +and become No. 375, as you would in jail. Don’t ask +questions; theirs not to answer; don’t ring the bell to +ask for a favor, if you set any value on your time. All +the rules of the establishment are printed and posted +in your bedroom; you have to submit to them. No +question to ask—you know everything. Henceforth +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>26</span> +you will have to be hungry from 7 to 9 A.M.; from 1 +to 3 P.M.; from 6 to 8 P.M. The slightest infringement +of the routine would stop the wheel, so don’t ask if you +could have a meal at four o’clock; you would be taken +for a lunatic, or a crank (as they call it in America). +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>27</span> </p> + +<p>Between meals you will be supplied with ice-water +<i>ad libitum</i>.</p> + +<p>No privacy. No coffee-room, no smoking-room. +No place where you can go and quietly sip a cup of +coffee or drink a glass of beer with a cigar. You can +have a drink at the bar, and then go and sit down in +the hall among the crowd.</p> + +<p>Life in an American hotel is an alternation of the +cellular system during the night and of the gregarious +system during the day, an alternation of the penitentiary +systems carried out at Philadelphia and at Auburn.</p> + +<p>It is not in the bedroom, either, that you must seek +anything to cheer you. The bed is good, but only for +the night. The room is perfectly nude. Not even +“Napoleon’s Farewell to his Soldiers at Fontainebleau” +as in France, or “Strafford walking to the +Scaffold” as in England. Not that these pictures are +particularly cheerful, still they break the monotony of +the wall paper. Here the only oases in the brown or +gray desert are cautions.</p> + +<p>First of all, a notice that, in a cupboard near the +window, you will find some twenty yards of coiled rope +which, in case of fire, you are to fix to a hook outside +the window. The rest is guessed. You fix the rope, +and—you let yourself go. From a sixth, seventh, or +eighth story, the prospect is lively. Another caution +informs you of all that you must not do, such as your +own washing in the bedroom. Another warns you that +if, on retiring, you put your boots outside the door, you +do so at your own risk and peril. Another is posted +near the door, close to an electric bell. With a little +care and practice, you will be able to carry out the +instructions printed thereon. The only thing wonderful +about the contrivance is that the servants never +make mistakes. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>28</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:424px; height:610px" src="images/img041.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE HOTEL FIRE ESCAPE.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>29</span> </p> + +<div class="f90"> +<table class="nobctr" width="70%" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="tcl">Press once</td> <td class="tcl">for ice-water.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">Press twice</td> <td class="tcl">for hall boy.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">Press three times</td> <td class="tcl">for fireman.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">Press four times</td> <td class="tcl">for chambermaid.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">Press five times</td> <td class="tcl">for hot water.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">Press six times</td> <td class="tcl">for ink and writing materials.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">Press seven times</td> <td class="tcl">for baggage.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">Press eight times</td> <td class="tcl">for messenger.</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>In some hotels I have seen the list carried to number +twelve.</p> + +<p>Another notice tells you what the proprietor’s responsibilities +are, and at what time the meals take +place. Now this last notice is the most important of +all. Woe to you if you forget it! For if you should +present yourself one minute after the dining-room door +is closed, no human consideration would get it open +for you. Supplications, arguments would be of no +avail. Not even money.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” some old-fashioned European +will exclaim. “When the <i>table d’hôte</i> is over, +of course you cannot expect the <i>menu</i> to be served to +you; but surely you can order a steak or a chop.”</p> + +<p>No, you cannot, not even an omelette or a piece of +cold meat. If you arrive at one minute past three (in +small towns, at one minute past two) you find the +dining-room closed, and you must wait till six o’clock +to see its hospitable doors open again.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>When you enter the dining-room, you must not believe +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>30</span> +that you can go and sit where you like. The chief +waiter assigns you a seat, and you must take it. With +a superb wave of the hand, he signs to you to follow +him. He does not even turn round to see if you are +behind him, following him in all the meanders he describes, +amid the sixty, eighty, sometimes hundred +tables that are in the room. He takes it for granted +you are an obedient, submissive traveler who knows +his duty. Altogether I traveled in the United States +for about ten months, and I never came across an +American so daring, so independent, as to actually +take any other seat than the one assigned to him by +that tremendous potentate, the head waiter. Occasionally, +just to try him, I would sit down in a chair I +took a fancy to. But he would come and fetch me, +and tell me that I could not stay there. In Europe, +the waiter asks you where you would like to sit. In +America, you ask him where you may sit. He is a +paid servant, therefore a master in America. He is in +command, not of the other waiters, but of the guests. +Several times, recognizing friends in the dining-room, +I asked the man to take me to their tables (I should +not have dared go by myself), and the permission was +granted with a patronizing sign of the head. I have +constantly seen Americans stop on the threshold of +the dining-room door, and wait until the chief waiter +had returned from placing a guest to come and fetch +them in their turn. I never saw them venture alone, +and take an empty seat, without the sanction of the +waiter.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>31</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:493px; height:610px" src="images/img044.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE HEAD MAN.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>32</span></p> + +<p>The guests feel struck with awe in that dining-room, +and solemnly bolt their food as quickly as they can. +You hear less noise in an American hotel dining-room +containing five hundred people, than you do at a +French <i>table d’hôte</i> accommodating fifty people, at a +German one containing a dozen guests, or at a table +where two Italians +are dining <i>tête-à-tête</i>.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 300px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:252px; height:400px" src="images/img045.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“LOOK LIKE DUSKY PRINCES.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>The head waiter, +at large Northern +and Western hotels, +is a white man. In +the Southern ones, +he is a mulatto or a +black; but white or +black, he is always a +magnificent specimen +of his race. +There is not a ghost +of a savor of the +serving man about +him; no whiskers +and shaven upper +lips reminding you +of the waiters of the +Old World; but always +a fine mustache, +the twirling of which +helps to give an air +of <i>nonchalant</i> superiority to its wearer. The mulatto +head-waiters in the South really look like dusky +princes. Many of them are so handsome and carry +themselves so superbly that you find them very impressive +at first and would fain apologize to them. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>33</span> +You feel as if you wanted +to thank them for kindly +condescending to concern +themselves about anything +so commonplace as your seat +at table.</p> + +<p>In smaller hotels, the +waiters are all waitresses. +The “waiting” is +done by damsels +entirely—or +rather by the +guests of the +hotel.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 390px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:339px; height:450px" src="images/img046.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“SHE IS CROWNED WITH A GIGANTIC MASS +OF FRIZZLED HAIR.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>If the Southern +head waiter +looks like a +prince, what +shall we say of +the head-waitress +in the East, +the North, and +the West? +No term short +of queenly will +describe her +stately bearing +as she moves about among her bevy of reduced +duchesses. She is evidently chosen for her appearance. +She is “divinely tall,” as well as “most +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>34</span> +divinely fair,” and, as if to add to her importance, +she is crowned with a gigantic mass of frizzled +hair. All the waitresses have this coiffure. It is +a livery, as caps are in the Old World; but instead +of being a badge of servitude it looks, and is, alarmingly +emancipated—so much so that, before making +close acquaintance with my dishes, I always examine +them with great care. A beautiful mass of hair looks +lovely on the head of a woman, but <i>one</i> in your soup, +even if it had strayed from the tresses of your beloved +one, would make the corners of your mouth go down, +and the tip of your nose go up.</p> + +<p>A regally handsome woman always “goes well in +the landscape,” as the French say, and I have seen +specimens of these waitresses so handsome and so +commanding-looking that, if they cared to come over +to Europe and play the queens in London pantomimes, +I feel sure they would command quite exceptional +prices, and draw big salaries and crowded houses.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The thing which strikes me most disagreeably, in the +American hotel dining-room, is the sight of the tremendous +waste of food that goes on at every meal. +No European, I suppose, can fail to be struck with +this; but to a Frenchman it would naturally be most +remarkable. In France, where, I venture to say, +people live as well as anywhere else, if not better, +there is a horror of anything like waste of good food. +It is to me, therefore, a repulsive thing to see the +wanton manner in which some Americans will waste +at one meal enough to feed several hungry fellow-creatures. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>35</span> </p> + +<p>In the large hotels, conducted on the American +plan, there are rarely fewer than fifty different dishes +on the <i>menu</i> at dinner-time. Every day, and at every +meal, you may see people order three times as much +of this food as they could under any circumstances eat, +and, after picking it and spoiling one dish after another, +send the bulk away uneaten. I am bound to say that +this practice is not only to be observed in hotels where +the charge is so much per day, but in those conducted +on the European plan, that is, where you pay for every +item you order. There I notice that people proceed +in much the same wasteful fashion. It is evidently +not a desire to have more than is paid for, but simply +a bad and ugly habit. I hold that about five hundred +hungry people could be fed out of the waste that is +going on at such large hotels as the Palmer House or +the Grand Pacific Hotel of Chicago—and I have no +doubt that such five hundred hungry people could +easily be found in Chicago every day.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I think that many Europeans are prevented from +going to America by an idea that the expense of +traveling and living there is very great. This is +quite a delusion. For my part I find that hotels are +as cheap in America as in England at any rate, and +railway traveling in Pullman cars is certainly cheaper +than in European first-class carriages, and incomparably +more comfortable. Put aside in America such +hotels as Delmonico’s, the Brunswick in New York; +the Richelieu in Chicago; and in England such hotels +as the Metropôle, the Victoria, the Savoy; and take +the good hotels of the country, such as the Grand +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>36</span> +Pacific at Chicago; the West House at Minneapolis, +the Windsor at Montreal, the Cadillac at Detroit. I +only mention those I remember as the very best. In +these hotels, you are comfortably lodged and magnificently +fed for from three to five dollars a day. In +no good hotel of England, France, Germany, Italy, +Switzerland, would you get the same amount of comfort, +or even luxury, at the same price, and those who +require a sitting-room get it for a little less than they +would have to pay in a European hotel.</p> + +<p>The only very dear hotels I have come across in the +United States are those of Virginia. There I have +been charged as much as two dollars a day, but never +in my life did I pay so dear for what I had, never +in my life did I see so many dirty rooms or so many +messes that were unfit for human food.</p> + +<p>But I will just say this much for the American refinement +of feeling to be met with, even in the hotels +of Virginia, even in the “lunch” rooms in small stations, +you are supplied, at the end of each meal, with a +bowl of water—to rinse your mouth.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:107px" src="images/img049.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>37</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<p class="tt">My Opening Lecture—Reflections on Audiences +I Have Had—The Man who Won’t +Smile—The One who Laughs too Soon, and +Many Others.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Boston</i>, <i>January</i> 7.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Began</span> my second American tour under most favorable +auspices last night, in the Tremont Temple. +The huge hall was crowded with an audience of about +2500 people—a most kind, warm, keen, and appreciative +audience. I was a little afraid of the Bostonians; I had +heard so much about their power of criticism that I had +almost come to the conclusion that it was next to impossible +to please them. The Boston newspapers this +morning give full reports of my lecture. All of them are +kind and most favorable. This is a good start, and I +feel hopeful.</p> + +<p>The subject of my lecture was “A National Portrait +Gallery of the Anglo-Saxon Races,” in which I delineated +the English, the Scotch, and the American characters. +Strange to say, my Scotch sketches seemed to +tickle them most. This, however, I can explain to +myself. Scotch “wut” is more like American humor +than any kind of wit I know. There is about it +the same dryness, the same quaintness, the same preposterousness, +the same subtlety. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>38</span> </p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 290px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:242px; height:350px" src="images/img051.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">BOSTON.</td></tr></table> + +<p>My Boston audience also seemed to enjoy my criticisms +of America and the Americans, which disposes +of the absurd belief that the Americans will not listen to +the criticism of their country. There are Americans +and Americans, as there +is criticism and criticism. +If you can speak of +people’s virtues without +flattery; if you can speak +of their weaknesses +and failings with +kindness and good +humor, I believe +you can +criticise to +your heart’s +content without +ever fearing +to give offense +to intelligent +and fair-minded +people. +I admire +and love the +Americans. +How could +they help seeing +it through all the little criticisms that I indulged +in on the platform? On the whole, I was delighted +with my Boston audience, and, to judge from the +reception they gave me, I believe I succeeded in +pleasing them. I have three more engagements in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>39</span> +Boston, so I shall have the pleasure of meeting the +Bostonians again.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I have never been able to lecture, whether in England, +in Scotland, in Ireland or in America, without discovering, +somewhere in the hall, after speaking for five +minutes or so, an old gentleman who will not smile. +He was there last night, and it is evident that he is +going to favor me with his presence every night during +this second American tour. He generally sits near +the platform, and not unfrequently on the first row. +There is a horrible fascination about that man. You +cannot get your eyes off him. You do your utmost to +“fetch him”—you feel it to be your duty not to send +him home empty-headed; your conscience tells you +that he has not to please you, but that <i>you</i> are paid to +please him, and you struggle on. You would like to +slip into his pocket the price of his seat and have him +removed, or throw the water bottle at his face and +make him show signs of life. As it is, you try to look +the other way, but you know he is there, and that does +not improve matters.</p> + +<p>Now this man, who will not smile, very often is not +so bad as he looks. You imagine that you bore him +to death, but you don’t. You wonder how it is he +does not go, but the fact is he actually enjoys himself—inside. +Or, maybe, he is a professional man +himself, and no conjuror has ever been known to laugh +at another conjuror’s tricks. A great American +humorist relates that, after speaking for an hour +and a half without succeeding in getting a smile from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>40</span> +a certain man in the audience, he sent some one to inquire +into the state of his mind.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, sir, did you not enjoy the lecture that +has been delivered to-night?”</p> + +<p>“Very much indeed,” said the man, “it was a most +clever and entertaining lecture.”</p> + +<p>“But you never smiled——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no—I’m a liar myself.”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Sometimes there are other reasons to explain the +unsmiling man’s attitude.</p> + +<p>One evening I had lectured in Birmingham. On +the first row there sat the whole time an old gentleman, +with his umbrella standing between his legs, his +hands crossed on the handle, and his chin resting on +his hands. Frowning, his mouth gaping, and his eyes +perfectly vacant, he remained motionless, looking at +me, and for an hour and twenty minutes seemed to +say to me: “My poor fellow, you may do what you +like, but you won’t ‘fetch’ me to-night, I can tell +you.” I looked at him, I spoke to him, I winked at +him, I aimed at him; several times even I paused so +as to give him ample time to see a point. All was in +vain. I had just returned, after the lecture, to the secretary’s +room behind the platform, when he entered.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that man again!” I cried, pointing to +him.</p> + +<p>He advanced toward me, took my hand, and said:</p> + +<p>“Thank you very much for your excellent lecture, I +have enjoyed it very much.”</p> + +<p>“Have you?” said I. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>41</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:455px; height:610px" src="images/img054.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE OLD GENTLEMAN WHO WILL NOT SMILE.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>42</span></p> + +<p>“Would you be kind enough to give me your autograph?” +And he pulled out of his pocket a beautiful +autograph book.</p> + +<p>“Well,” I said to the secretary in a whisper, “this +old gentleman is extremely kind to ask for my autograph, +for I am certain he has not enjoyed my lecture.”</p> + +<p>“What makes you think so?”</p> + +<p>“Why, he never smiled once.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, poor old gentleman,” said the secretary; “he +is stone deaf.”</p> + +<p>Many a lecturer must have met this man.</p> + +<p>It would be unwise, when you discover that certain +members of the audience will not laugh, to give them +up at once. As long as you are on the platform there +is hope.</p> + +<p>I was once lecturing in the chief town of a great +hunting center in England. On the first row sat half +a dozen hair-parted-in-the-middle, single-eye-glass +young swells. They stared at me unmoved, and +never relaxed a muscle except for yawning. It was +most distressing to see how the poor fellows looked +bored. How I did wish I could do something for +them! I had spoken for nearly an hour when, by accident, +I upset the tumbler on my table. The water +trickled down the cloth. The young men laughed, +roared. They were happy and enjoying themselves, +and I had “fetched” them at last. I have never forgotten +this trick, and when I see in the audience an +apparently hopeless case, I often resort to it, generally +with success.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>There are other people who do not much enjoy +your lecture: your own. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>43</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:600px; height:278px" src="images/img056.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE CHAPPIES WHO WOULD NOT LAUGH.</p></div> + +<p>Of course you must forgive your wife. The dear +creature knows all your lectures by heart; she has +heard your jokes hundreds of times. She comes to +your lectures rather to see how you are going to be +received than to listen to you. Besides, she feels that +for an hour and a half you do not belong to her. +When she comes with you to the lecture hall, you are +both ushered into the secretary’s room. Two or three +minutes before it is time to go on the platform, it is +suggested to her that it is time she should take her +seat among the audience. She looks at the secretary +and recognizes that for an hour and a half her husband +is the property of this official, who is about to hand +him over to the tender mercies of the public. As she +says, “Oh, yes, I suppose I must go,” she almost feels +like shaking hands with her husband, as Mrs. Baldwin +takes leave of the Professor before he starts on his +aerial trip. But, though she may not laugh, her heart +is with you, and she is busy watching the audience, +ever ready to tell them, “Now, don’t you think this is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>44</span> +a very good point? Well, then, if you do, why don’t +you laugh and cheer?” She is part and parcel of +yourself. She is not jealous of your success, for she +is your helpmate, your kind and sound counselor, and +I can assure you that if an audience should fail to be +responsive, it would never enter her head to lay the +blame on her husband; she would feel the most supreme +contempt for “that stupid audience that was +unable to appreciate you.” That’s all.</p> + +<p>But your other own folk! You are no hero to them. +To judge the effect of anything, you must be placed at +a certain distance, and your own folks are too near you.</p> + +<p>One afternoon I had given a lecture to a large and +fashionable audience in the South of England. A near +relative of mine, who lived in the neighborhood, was +in the hall. He never smiled. I watched him from +the beginning to the end. When the lecture was +over he came to the little room behind the platform to +take me to his house. As he entered the room I was +settling the money matters with my <i>impresario</i>. I will +let you into the secret. There was fifty-two pounds in +the house, and my share was two-thirds of the gross +receipts, that is about thirty-four pounds. My relative +heard the sum. As we drove along in his dog-cart he +nudged me and said:</p> + +<p>“Did you make thirty-four pounds this afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, did you hear?” I said. “Yes, that was my +part of the takings. For a small town I am quite +satisfied.”</p> + +<p>“I should think you were!” he replied. “If you +had made thirty-four shillings you would have been +well paid for your work!” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>45</span> </p> + +<p>Nothing is more true to life than the want of appreciation +the successful man encounters from relatives +and also from former friends. Nothing is more certain +than when a man has lived on terms of perfect +equality and familiarity with a certain set of men, he +can never hope to be anything but “plain John” to +them, though by his personal efforts he may have obtained +the applause of the public. Did he not rub +shoulders with them for years in the same walk of +life? Why these bravos? What was there in him +more than in them? Even though they may have +gone so far as to single him out as a “rather clever +fellow,” while he was one of theirs, still the surprise at +the public appreciation is none the less keen, his advance +toward the front an unforgivable offense, and +they are immediately seized with a desire to rush out +in the highways and proclaim that he is only “Jack,” +and not the “John” that his admirers think him. I +remember that, in the early years of my life in England, +when I had not the faintest idea of ever writing a book +on John Bull, a young English friend of mine did me +the honor of appreciating highly all my observations +on British life and manners, and for years urged me +hard and often to jot them down to make a book of. +One day the book was finished and appeared in print. +It attracted a good deal of public attention, but no +one was more surprised than this man, who, from a +kind friend, was promptly transformed into the most +severe and unfriendly of my critics, and went about +saying that the book and the amount of public attention +bestowed upon it were both equally ridiculous. +He has never spoken to me since. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>46</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:375px; height:480px" src="images/img059.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE MAN WHO LAUGHS.</p></div> + +<p>A successful man is very often charged with wishing +to turn his back on his former friends. No accusation +is more false. Nothing would please him more than +to retain the friends of more modest times, but it +is they who have changed their feelings. They snub +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>47</span> +him, and this man, who is in constant need of moral +support and <i>pick-me-up</i>, cannot stand it.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>But let us return to the audience.</p> + +<p>The man who won’t smile is not the only person +who causes you some annoyance.</p> + +<p>There is the one who laughs too soon; who laughs +before you have made your points, and who thinks, +because you have opened your lecture with a joke, +that everything you say afterward is a joke. There is +another rather objectionable person; it is the one +who explains your points to his neighbor, and makes +them laugh aloud just at the moment when you require +complete silence to fire off one of your best +remarks.</p> + +<p>There is the old lady who listens to you frowning, +and who does not mind what you are saying, but is all +the time shaking for fear of what you are going to say +next. She never laughs before she has seen other +people laugh. Then she thinks she is safe.</p> + +<p>All these I am going to have in America again; that +is clear. But I am now a man of experience. I have +lectured in concert rooms, in lecture halls, in theaters, +in churches, in schools. I have addressed embalmed +Britons in English health resorts, petrified English +mummies at hydropathic establishments, and lunatics +in private asylums.</p> + +<p>I am ready for the fray.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>48</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">A Connecticut Audience—Merry Meriden—A +Hard Pull.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>From Meriden</i>, <i>January</i> 8.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">A Connecticut</span> audience was a new experience +to me. Yesterday I had a crowded room +at the Opera House in Meriden; but if you had been +behind the scenery, when I made my appearance on +the stage, you would not have suspected it, for not +one of the audience treated me to a little applause. I +was frozen, and so were they. For a quarter of an +hour I proceeded very cautiously, feeling the ground, +as it were, as I went on. By that time, the thaw set +in, and they began to smile. I must say that they had +been very attentive from the beginning, and seemed +very interested in the lecture. Encouraged by this, I +warmed too. It was curious to watch that audience. +By twos and threes the faces lit up with amusement +till, by and by, the house wore quite an animated +aspect. Presently there was a laugh, then two, then +laughter more general. All the ice was gone. Next, +a bold spirit in the stalls ventured some applause. At +his second outburst he had company. The uphill +work was nearly over now, and I began to feel better. +The infection spread up to the circles and the gallery, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>49</span> +and at last there came a real good hearty round of +applause. I had “fetched” them after all. But it +was tough work. When once I had them in hand, I +took good care not to let them go.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I visited several interesting establishments this +morning. Merry Meriden is famous for its manufactories +of electro-plated silverware. Unfortunately I am +not yet accustomed to the heated rooms of America, +and I could not stay in the show-rooms more than a +few minutes. I should have thought the heat was +strong enough to melt all the goods on view. This +town looks like a bee-hive of activity, with its animated +streets, its electric cars. Dear old Europe! With the +exception of a few large cities, the cars are still drawn +by horses, like in the time of Sesostris and Nebuchadnezzar.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>On arriving at the station a man took hold of my +bag and asked to take care of it until the arrival of the +train. I do not know whether he belonged to the +hotel where I spent the night, or to the railroad company. +Whatever he was, I felt grateful for this wonderful +show of courtesy.</p> + +<p>“I heard you last night at the Opera House,” he +said to me.</p> + +<p>“Why, were you at the lecture?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, and I greatly enjoyed it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, why didn’t you laugh sooner?” I said.</p> + +<p>“I wanted to very much!”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you?” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>50</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:301px; height:610px" src="images/img063.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“I WAS AT YOUR LECTURE LAST NIGHT.”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>51</span> </p> + +<p>“Well, sir, I couldn’t very well laugh before the +rest.”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you give the signal?”</p> + +<p>“You see, sir,” he said, “we are in Connecticut.”</p> + +<p>“Is laughter prohibited by the Statute Book in +Connecticut?” I remarked.</p> + +<p>“No, sir, but if you all laugh at the same time, +then——”</p> + +<p>“I see, nobody can tell who is the real criminal.”</p> + +<p>The train arrived. I shook hands with my friend, +after offering him half a dollar for holding my bag—which +he refused—and went on board.</p> + +<p>In the parlor car, I met my kind friend Colonel +Charles H. Taylor, editor of that very successful paper, +the Boston <i>Globe</i>. We had luncheon together in the +dining car, and time passed delightfully in his company +till we reached the Grand Central station, New +York, when we parted. He was kind enough to make +me promise to look him up in Boston in a fortnight’s +time, when I make my second appearance in the City +of Culture.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:110px; height:140px" src="images/img064.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>52</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">A Tempting Offer—The Thursday Club—Bill +Nye—Visit to Young Ladies’ Schools—The +Players’ Club.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>January</i> 9.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">On</span> returning here, I found a most curious letter +awaiting me. I must tell you that in Boston, +last Monday, I made the following remarks in my +lecture:</p> + +<p>“The American is, I believe, on the road to the +possession of all that can contribute to the well-being +and success of a nation, but he seems to me to have +missed the path that leads to real happiness. To live +in a whirl is not to live well. The little French shopkeeper +who locks his shop-door from half-past one, so +as not to be disturbed while he is having his dinner +with his wife and family, has come nearer to solving +the great problem of life, ‘How to be happy,’ than the +American who sticks on his door: ‘Gone to dinner, +shall be back in five minutes.’ You eat too fast, and I +understand why your antidyspeptic pill-makers cover +your walls, your forests even, with their advertisements.”</p> + +<p>And I named the firm of pill-makers.</p> + +<p>The letter is from them. They offer me $1000 if I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>53</span> +will repeat the phrase at every lecture I give during +my tour in the United States.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:383px; height:430px" src="images/img066.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHERE INDIGESTION IS MANUFACTURED.</p></div> + +<p>You may imagine if I will be careful to abstain in +the future.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I lectured to-night before the members of the +Thursday Club—a small, but very select audience, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>54</span> +gathered in the drawing-room of one of the members. +The lecture was followed by a <i>conversazione</i>. A very +pleasant evening.</p> + +<p>I left the house at half-past eleven. The night +was beautiful. I walked to the hotel, along Fifth +Avenue to Madison Square, and along Broadway to +Union Square.</p> + +<p>What a contrast to the great thoroughfares of London! +Thousands of people here returning from the +theaters and enjoying their walks, instead of being +obliged to rush into vehicles to escape the sights presented +at night by the West End streets of London. +Here you can walk at night with your wife and +daughter, without the least fear of their coming into +contact with flaunting vice.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Excuse a reflection on a subject of a very domestic +character. My clothes have come from the laundress +with the bill.</p> + +<p>Now let me give you a sound piece of advice.</p> + +<p>When you go to America, bring with you a dozen +shirts. No more. When these are soiled, buy a +new dozen, and so on. You will thus get a supply +of linen for many years to come, and save your washing +bills in America, where the price of a shirt is +much the same as the cost of washing it.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>January</i> 10.</p> + +<p>I was glad to see Bill Nye again. He turned up +at the Everett House this morning. I like to gaze +at his clean-shaven face, that is seldom broken by a +smile, and to hear his long, melancholy drawl. His +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>55</span> +lank form, and his polished dome of thought, as he +delights in calling his joke box, help to make him so +droll on the platform. When his audience begins to +scream with laughter, he stops, looks at them in +astonishment; the corners of his mouth drop and an +expression of sadness comes over his face. The effect +is irresistible. They shriek for mercy. But they +don’t get it. He is accompanied by his own manager, +who starts with him for the north to-night. +This manager has no sinecure. I don’t think Bill +Nye has ever been found in a depot ready to catch a +train. So the manager takes him to the station, puts +him in the right car, gets him out of his sleeping +berth, takes him to the hotel, sees that he is behind +the platform a few minutes before the time announced +for the beginning of the lecture, and generally looks +after his comfort. Bill is due in Ohio to-morrow +night, and leaves New York to-night by the Grand +Central Depot.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure it’s by the Grand Central?” he said +to me.</p> + +<p>“Why, of course, corner of Forty-second Street, a +five or ten minutes’ ride from here.”</p> + +<p>You should have seen the expression on his face, as +he drawled away:</p> + +<p>“How—shall—I—get—there, I—wonder?”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>This afternoon I paid a most interesting visit to +several girls’ schools. The pupils were ordered by +the head-mistress, in each case, to gather in the large +room. There they arrived, two by two, to the sound +of a march played on the piano by one of the under-mistresses. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>56</span> +When they had all reached their respective +places, two chords were struck on the instrument, +and they all sat down with the precision of the best +drilled Prussian regiment. Then some sang, others +recited little poems, or epigrams—mostly at the expense +of men. When, two years ago, I visited the +Normal School for girls in the company of the President +of the Education Board and Colonel Elliott F. +Shepard, it was the anniversary of George Eliot’s +birth. The pupils, one by one, recited a few quotations +from her works, choosing all she had written +against man.</p> + +<p>When the singing and the recitations were over, the +mistress requested me to address a few words to the +young ladies. An American is used from infancy to +deliver a speech on the least provocation. I am not. +However, I managed to congratulate these young +American girls on their charming appearance, and to +thank them for the pleasure they had afforded me. +Then two chords were struck on the piano and all +stood up; two more chords, and all marched off in +double file to the sound of another march. Not a +smile, not a giggle. All these young girls, from sixteen +to twenty, looked at me with modesty, but complete +self-assurance, certainly with far more assurance +than I dared look at them.</p> + +<p>Then the mistress asked me to go to the gymnasium. +There the girls arrived and, as solemnly as before, +went through all kinds of muscular exercises. +They are never allowed to sit down in the class rooms +more than two hours at a time. They have to go +down to the gymnasium every two hours. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>57</span> </p> + +<p>I was perfectly amazed to see such discipline. +These young girls are the true daughters of a great Republic: +self-possessed, self-confident, dignified, respectful, +law-abiding.</p> + +<p>I also visited the junior departments of those schools. +In one of them, eight hundred little girls from five to +ten years of age were gathered together, and, as in the +other departments, sang and recited to me. These +young children are taught by the girls of the Normal +School, under the supervision of mistresses. Here +teaching is learned by teaching. A good method. +Doctors are not allowed to practice before they have +attended patients in hospitals. Why should people be +allowed to teach before they have attended schools as +apprentice teachers?</p> + +<p>I had to give a speech to these dear little ones. I +wish I had been able to give them a kiss instead.</p> + +<p>In my little speech I had occasion to remark that I +had arrived in America only a week before. After I +left, it appears that a little girl, aged about six, went to +her mistress and said to her:</p> + +<p>“He’s only been here a week! And how beautifully +he speaks English already!”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I have been “put up” at the Players’ Club by Mr. +Edmund Clarence Stedman, and dined with him there +to-night.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:341px; height:430px" src="images/img071.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“HOW BEAUTIFULLY HE SPEAKS ENGLISH.”</p></div> + +<p>This club is the snuggest house I know in New +York. Only a few months old, it possesses treasures +such as few clubs a hundred years old possess. It +was a present from Mr. Edwin Booth, the greatest +actor America has produced. He bought the house +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>58</span> +in Twentieth Street, facing Gramercy Park, furnished +it handsomely and with the greatest taste, and filled it +with all the artistic treasures that he has collected during +his life: portraits of celebrated actors, most valuable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>59</span> +old engravings, photographs with the originals’ +autographs, china, curios of all sorts, stage properties, +such as the sword used by Macready in <i>Macbeth</i>, and +hundreds of such beautiful and interesting souvenirs. +On the second floor is the library, mostly composed +of works connected with the drama.</p> + +<p>This club is a perfect gem.</p> + +<p>When in New York, Mr. Booth occupies a suite of +rooms on the second floor, which he has reserved for +himself; but he has handed over the property to the +trustees of the club, who, after his death, will become +the sole proprietors of the house and of all its priceless +contents. It was a princely gift, worthy of the prince +of actors. The members are all connected with literature, +art, and the drama, and number about one hundred.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:63px" src="images/img072.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>60</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">The Flourishing of Coats-of-Arms in America—Reflections +Thereon—Forefathers Made +to Order—The Phonograph at Home—The +Wealth of New York—Departure for +Buffalo.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>January</i> 11.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">There</span> are in America, as in many other countries +of the world, people who have coats-of-arms, +and whose ancestors had no arms to their coats.</p> + +<p>This remark was suggested by the reading of the +following paragraph in the New York <i>World</i> this +morning:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>There is growing in this country the rotten influence of rank, +pride of station, contempt for labor, scorn of poverty, worship of +caste, such as we verily believe is growing in no country in the +world. What are the ideals that fill so large a part of the day and +generation? For the boy it is riches; for the girl the marrying of +a title. The ideal of this time in America is vast riches and the +trappings of rank. It is good that proper scorn should be +expressed of such ideals.</p></div> + +<p>American novelists, journalists, and preachers are +constantly upbraiding and ridiculing their countrywomen +for their love of titled foreigners; but the +society women of the great Republic only love the +foreign lords all the more; and I have heard some of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>61</span> +them openly express their contempt of a form of government +whose motto is one of the clauses of the +great Declaration of Independence: “All men are created +equal.” I really believe that if the society +women of America had their own way, they would +set up a monarchy to-morrow, in the hope of seeing an +aristocracy established as the sequel of it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:432px; height:350px" src="images/img074.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A TITLE.</p></div> + +<p>President Garfield once said that the only real coats-of-arms +in America were shirt-sleeves. The epigram is +good, but not based on truth, as every epigram should +be. Labor in the States is not honorable for its own +sake, but only if it brings wealth. President Garfield’s +epigram “fetched” the crowd, no doubt, as any smart +democratic or humanitarian utterance will anywhere, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>62</span> +whether it be emitted from the platform, the stage, +the pulpit, or the hustings; but if any American +philosopher heard it, he must have smiled.</p> + +<p>A New York friend who called on me this morning, +and with whom I had a chat on this subject, assured +me that there is now such a demand in the States for +pedigrees, heraldic insignia, mottoes, and coronets, +that it has created a new industry. He also informed +me that almost every American city has a college of +heraldry, which will provide unbroken lines of ancestors, +and make to order a new line of forefathers “of +the most approved pattern, with suitable arms, etc.”</p> + +<p>Addison’s prosperous foundling, who ordered at the +second-hand picture-dealer’s “a complete set of ancestors,” +is, according to my friend, a typical personage +to be met with in the States nowadays.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Bah! after all, every country has her snobs. Why +should America be an exception to the rule? When I +think of the numberless charming people I have met in +this country, I may as well leave it to the Europeans +who have come in contact with American snobs to +speak about them, inasmuch as the subject is not particularly +entertaining.</p> + +<p>What amuses me much more here is the effect of +democracy on what we Europeans would call the lower +classes.</p> + +<p>A few days ago, in a hotel, I asked a porter if my +trunk had arrived from the station and had been taken +to my room.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” he said majestically; “you ask +that gentleman.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>63</span> </p> + +<p>The gentleman pointed out to me was the negro +who looks after the luggage in the establishment.</p> + +<p>In the papers you may read in the advertisement +columns: “Washing +wanted by a lady at +such and such address.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 260px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:214px; height:300px" src="images/img076.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE NEW YORK CABMAN.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The cabman will +ask, “If you are the +<i>man</i> as wants a <i>gentleman</i> +to drive him +to the <i>deepo</i>.”</p> + +<p>During an inquiry +concerning the work-house +at Cambridge, +Mass., a witness +spoke of the “ladies’ +cells,” as being all that +should be desired.</p> + +<p>Democracy, such +is thy handiwork!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I went to the Stock Exchange in Wall Street at one +o’clock. I thought that Whitechapel, on Saturday +night, was beyond competition as a scene of rowdyism. +I have now altered this opinion. I am still wondering +whether I was not guyed by my pilot, and whether I +was not shown the playground of a madhouse, at the +time when all the most desperate lunatics are let +loose.</p> + +<p>After lunch I went to Falk’s photograph studio to +be taken, and read the first page of “Jonathan and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>64</span> +His Continent,” into his phonograph. Marvelous, this +phonograph! I imagine Mr. Falk has the best collection +of cylinders in the world. I heard a song by +Patti, the piano played by Von Bülow, speeches, orchestras, +and what not! The music is reproduced most +faithfully. With the voice the instrument is not quite +so successful. Instead of your own voice, you fancy +you hear an imitation of it by Punch. All the same, it +seems to me to be the wonder of the age.</p> + +<p>After paying a few calls, and dining quietly at the +Everett House, I went to the Metropolitan Opera +House, and saw “The Barber of Bagdad.” Cornelius’s +music is Wagnerian in aim, but I did not carry away +with me a single bar of all I heard. After all, this is +perhaps the aim of Wagnerian music.</p> + +<p>What a sight is the Metropolitan Opera House, with +its boxes full of lovely women, arrayed in gorgeous +garments, and blazing with diamonds! What luxury! +What wealth is gathered there!</p> + +<p>How interesting it would be to know the exact +amount of wealth of which New York can boast! In +this morning’s papers I read that land on Fifth Avenue +has lately sold for $115 a square foot. In an acre of +land there are 43,560 square feet, which at $115 a +foot would be $5,009,400 an acre. Just oblige me by +thinking of it!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>January</i> 12.</p> + +<p>Went to the Catholic Cathedral at eleven. A mass +by Haydn was splendidly rendered by full orchestra +and admirable chorus. The altar was a blaze of candles. +The yellow of the lights and the plain mauve of two +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>65</span> +windows, one on each side of the candles, gave a most +beautiful crocus-bed effect. I enjoyed the service.</p> + +<p>In the evening I dined with Mr. Lloyd Bryce, editor +of the <i>North American Review</i>, at the splendid residence +of his father-in-law, Mr. Cooper, late Mayor of +New York. Mrs. Lloyd Bryce is one of the handsomest +American women I have met, and a most +charming and graceful hostess. I reluctantly left +early so as to prepare for my night journey to +Buffalo.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:109px" src="images/img078.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>66</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">Different Ways of Advertising a Lecture—American +Impresarios and Their Methods.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Buffalo</i>, <i>January</i> 13.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">When</span> you intend to give a lecture anywhere, +and you wish it to be a success, it is a mistake +to make a mystery of it.</p> + +<p>On arriving here this morning, I found that my coming +had been kept perfectly secret.</p> + +<p>Perhaps my impresario wishes my audience to be +very select, and has sent only private circulars to the +intelligent, well-to-do inhabitants of the place—or, I +said to myself, perhaps the house is all sold, and he has +no need of any further advertisements.</p> + +<p>I should very much like to know.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Sometimes, however, it is a mistake to advertise a +lecture too widely. You run the risk of getting the +wrong people.</p> + +<p>A few years ago, in Dundee, a little corner gallery, +placed at the end of the hall where I was to speak, was +thrown open to the public at sixpence. I warned the +manager that I was no attraction for the sixpenny +public; but he insisted on having his own way.</p> + +<p>The hall was well filled, but not the little gallery, +where I counted about a dozen people. Two of these, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>67</span> +however, did not remain long, and, after the lecture, I +was told that they had gone to the box-office and asked +to have their money returned to them. “Why,” they +said, “it’s a d—— swindle; it’s only a man talking.”</p> + +<p>The man at the box-office was a Scotchman, and it +will easily be understood that the two sixpences +remained in the hands of the management.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I can well remember how startled I was, two years +ago, on arriving in an American town where I was to +lecture, to see the walls covered with placards announcing +my lecture thus: “He is coming, ah, ha!” And +after I had arrived, new placards were stuck over the +old ones: “He has arrived, ah, ha!”</p> + +<p>In another American town I was advertised as “the +best paying platform celebrity in the world.” In +another, in the following way: “If you would grow +fat and happy, go and hear Max O’Rell to-night.”</p> + +<p>One of my Chicago lectures was advertised thus: +“Laughter is restful. If you desire to feel as though +you had a vacation for a week, do not fail to attend +this lecture.”</p> + +<p>I was once fortunate enough to deal with a local +manager who, before sending it to the newspapers, +submitted to my approbation the following advertisement, +of which he was very proud. I don’t know +whether it was his own literary production, or whether +he had borrowed it of a showman friend. Here it is:</p> + +<p class="center pt2 sc">Two Hours of Unalloyed Fun and Happiness</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Will put two inches of solid fat even upon the ribs of the most +cadaverous old miser. Everybody shouts peals of laughter as the +rays of fun are emitted from this famous son of merry-makers. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>68</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:367px; height:610px" src="images/img081.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AS JOHN BULL.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" id="page69"></a>69</span> </p> + +<p>I threatened to refuse to appear if the advertisement +was inserted in the papers. This manager later +gave his opinion that, as a lecturer, I was good, but +that as a man, I was a little bit “stuck-up.”</p> + +<p>When you arrive in an American town to lecture, +you find the place flooded with your pictures, huge +lithographs stuck on the walls, on the shop windows, +in your very hotel entrance hall. Your own face +stares at you everywhere, you are recognized by +everybody. You have to put up with it. If you love +privacy, peace, and quiet, don’t go to America on a +lecturing tour. That is what your impresario will tell +you.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In each town where you go, you have a local manager +to “boss the show”; as he has to pay you a certain +fee, which he guarantees, you cannot find fault +with him for doing his best to have a large audience. +He runs risks; you do not. Suppose, for instance, +you are engaged, not by a society for a fee, but by a +manager on sharing terms, say sixty per cent. of the +gross receipts for you and forty for himself. Suppose +his local expenses amount to $200; he has to bring +$500 into the house before there is a cent for himself. +You must forgive him if he goes about the place beating +the big drum. If you do not like it, there is a +place where you can stay—home.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>An impresario once asked me if I required a piano, +and if I would bring my own accompanist. Another +wrote to ask the subject of my “entertainment.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>70</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:433px; height:610px" src="images/img083.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AS SANDY.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>71</span></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 250px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:202px; height:200px" src="images/img084.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">AS PAT.</td></tr></table> + +<p>I wrote back to say that my lecture was generally +found entertaining, but that I objected to its being +called an entertainment. +I added that +the lecture was composed +of four character +sketches, viz., John +Bull, Sandy, Pat, and +Jonathan.</p> + +<p>In his answer to this, +he inquired whether I +should change my dress +four times during the +performance, and +whether it would not +be a good thing to have a little music during the +intervals.</p> + +<p>Just fancy my appearing on the platform successively +dressed as John, Sandy, Pat, and Jonathan!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>A good impresario is constantly on the look out for +anything that may draw the attention of the public to +his entertainment. Nothing is sacred for him. His +eyes and ears are always open, all his senses on the alert.</p> + +<p>One afternoon I was walking with my impresario +over the beautiful Clifton Suspension Bridge. I was +to lecture at the Victoria Hall, Bristol, in the evening. +We leaned on the railings, and grew pensive as we +looked at the scenery and the abyss under us.</p> + +<p>My impresario sighed.</p> + +<p>“What are you thinking about?” I said to him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" id="page72"></a>72</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:222px; height:500px" src="images/img085.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AS JONATHAN.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>73</span></p> + +<p>“Last year,” he replied, “a girl tried to commit suicide +and jumped over this bridge; but the wind got +under her skirt, made a parachute of it, and she +descended to the bottom of the valley perfectly unhurt.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:423px; height:430px" src="images/img086.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE WOULD-BE SUICIDE.</p></div> + +<p>And he sighed again.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said I, “why do you sigh?”</p> + +<p>“Ah! my dear fellow, if you could do the same this +afternoon, there would be ‘standing room only’ in the +Victoria Hall to-night.”</p> + +<p>I left that bridge in no time.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>74</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Buffalo—The Niagara Falls—A Frost—Rochester +to the Rescue of Buffalo—Cleveland—I +Meet Jonathan—Phantasmagoria.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Buffalo</i>, <i>January</i> 14.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">This</span> town is situated twenty-seven miles from +Niagara Falls. The Americans say that the +Buffalo people can hear the noise of the water-fall +quite distinctly. I am quite prepared to believe it. +However, an hour’s journey by rail and then a quarter +of an hour’s sleigh ride will take you from Buffalo +within sight of this, perhaps the grandest piece of +scenery in the world. Words cannot describe it. You +spend a couple of hours visiting every point of view. +You are nailed, as it were, to the ground, feeling like +a pigmy, awestruck in the presence of nature at her +grandest. The snow was falling thickly, and though +it made the view less clear, it added to the grandeur of +the scene.</p> + +<p>I went down by the cable car to a level with the rapids +and the place where poor Captain Webb was last seen +alive; a presumptuous pigmy, he, to dare such waters +as these. His widow keeps a little bazaar near the +falls and sells souvenirs to the visitors.</p> + +<p>It was most thrilling to stand within touching distance +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>75</span> +of that great torrent of water, called the Niagara +Falls, in distinction to the Horseshoe Falls, to +hear the roar of it as it fell. The idea of force it gives +one is tremendous. You stand and wonder how many +ages it has been roaring on, what eyes besides your +own have gazed awestruck at its mighty rushing, and +wonder if the pigmies will ever do what they say +they will; one day make those columns of water +their servants to turn wheels at their bidding.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:469px; height:430px" src="images/img088.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SHOOTING THE RAPIDS.</p></div> + +<p>We crossed the bridge over to the Canadian side, +and there we had the whole grand panorama before +our eyes. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>76</span> </p> + +<p>It appears that it is quite a feasible thing to run the +rapids in a barrel. Girls have done it, and it may become +the fashionable sport for American girls in the +near future. It has been safely accomplished plenty of +times by young fellows up for an exciting day’s sport.</p> + +<p>On the Canadian shore was a pretty villa where +Princess Louise stayed while she painted the scene. +Some of the pretty houses were fringed all round the +roofs and balconies in the loveliest way, with icicles a +yard long, and loaded with snow. They looked most +beautiful.</p> + +<p>On the way back we called at Prospect House, a +charming hotel which I hope, if ever I go near Buffalo +again, I shall put up at for a day or two, to see the +neighborhood well.</p> + +<p>Two years ago I was lucky enough to witness a +most curious sight. The water was frozen under the +falls, and a natural bridge, formed by the ice, was being +used by venturesome people to cross the Niagara +River on. This occurs very seldom.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I have had a fizzle to-night. I almost expected it. +In a hall that could easily have accommodated fifteen +hundred people, I lectured to an audience of about +three hundred. Fortunately they proved so intelligent, +warm, and appreciative that I did not feel at all +depressed; but my impresario did. However, he congratulated +me on having been able to do justice to the +<i>causerie</i>, as if I had had a bumper house.</p> + +<p>I must own that it is much easier to be a tragedian +than a light comedian before a $200 house.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>77</span> </p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Cleveland, O.</i>, <i>January</i> 15.</p> + +<p>The weather is so bad that I shall be unable to see +anything of this city, which, people tell me, is very +beautiful.</p> + +<p>On arriving at the Weddell House, I met a New +York friend.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said he, “how are you getting on? Where +do you come from?”</p> + +<p>“From Buffalo,” said I, pulling a long face.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter? Don’t you like the Buffalo +people?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I liked those I saw. I should have liked to +extend my love to a larger number. I had a fizzle; +about three hundred people. Perhaps I drew all the +brain of Buffalo.”</p> + +<p>“How many people do you say you had in the +hall?” said my friend.</p> + +<p>“About three hundred.”</p> + +<p>“Then you must have drawn a good many people +from Rochester, I should think,” said he quite solemnly.</p> + +<p>In reading the Buffalo newspapers this morning, I +noticed favorable criticisms of my lecture; but while +my English was praised, so far as the language went, +severe comments were passed on my pronunciation. +In England, where the English language is spoken +with a decent pronunciation, I never once read a condemnation +of my pronunciation of the English language.</p> + +<p>I will not appear again in Buffalo until I feel much +improved.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>78</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:403px; height:430px" src="images/img091.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“GOING TO PITTSBURG, I GUESS.”</p></div> + +<p class="rt"><i>En route to Pittsburg</i>, <i>January</i> 16.</p> + +<p>The American railway stations have special waiting +rooms for ladies—not, as in England, places furnished +with looking-glasses, where they can go and arrange +their bonnets, etc. No, no. Places where they can +wait for the trains, protected against the contamination +of man, and where they are spared the sight +of that eternal little round piece of furniture with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>79</span> +which the floors of the whole of the United States +are dotted.</p> + +<p>At Cleveland Station, this morning, I met Jonathan, +such as he is represented in the comic papers of the +world. A man of sixty, with long straight white hair +falling over his shoulders; no mustache, long imperial +beard, a razor-blade-shaped nose, small keen eyes, and +high prominent cheek-bones, the whole smoking the +traditional cigar; the Anglo-Saxon indianized—Jonathan. +If he had had a long swallow-tail coat on, a +waistcoat ornamented with stars, and trowsers with +stripes, he might have sat for the cartoons of <i>Puck</i> or +<i>Judge</i>.</p> + +<p>In the car, Jonathan came and sat opposite me. +A few minutes after the train had started, he +said:</p> + +<p>“Going to Pittsburg, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“To lecture?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you know I lecture?”</p> + +<p>“Why, certainly; I heard you in Boston ten days +ago.”</p> + +<p>He offered me a cigar, told me his name—I mean +his three names—what he did, how much he earned, +where he lived, how many children he had; he read +me a poem of his own composition, invited me to go +and see him, and entertained me for three hours and a +half, telling me the history of his life, etc. Indeed, it +was Jonathan.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>All the Americans I have met have written a poem +(pronounced <i>pome</i>). Now I am not generalizing. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>80</span> +do not say that all the Americans have written a poem, +I say <i>all the Americans I have met</i>.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Pittsburg</i> (<i>same day later</i>).</p> + +<p>I lecture here to-night under the auspices of the +Press Club of the town. The president of the club +came to meet me at the station, in order to show me +something of the town.</p> + +<p>I like Pittsburg very much. From the top of the +hill, which you reach in a couple of minutes by the cable +car, there is a most beautiful sight to contemplate: +one never to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>On our way to the hotel, my kind friend took me to +a fire station, and asked the man in command of the +place to go through the performance of a fire-call for +my own edification.</p> + +<p>Now, in two words, here is the thing.</p> + +<p>You touch the fire bell in your own house. That +causes the name of your street and the number of your +house to appear in the fire station; it causes all the +doors of the station to open outward. Wait a minute—it +causes whips which are hanging behind the +horses, to lash them and send them under harnesses +that fall upon them and are self-adjusting; it causes +the men, who are lying down on the first floor, to slide +down an incline and fall on the box and steps of the +cart. And off they gallop. It takes about two minutes +to describe it as quickly as possible. It only takes +fourteen seconds to do it. It is the nearest approach +to phantasmagoria that I have yet seen in real life.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" id="page81"></a>81</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<p class="tt">A Great Admirer—Notes on Railway Traveling—Is +America a Free Nation?—A Pleasant +Evening in New York.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>In the vestibule train from Pittsburg to New York</i>, +<i>January</i> 17.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">This</span> morning, before leaving the hotel in Pittsburg, +I was approached by a young man who, +after giving me his card, thanked me most earnestly +for my lecture of last night. In fact, he nearly embraced +me.</p> + +<p>“I never enjoyed myself so much in my life,” he +said.</p> + +<p>I grasped his hand.</p> + +<p>“I am glad,” I replied, “that my humble effort +pleased you so much. Nothing is more gratifying to +a lecturer than to know he has afforded pleasure to his +audience.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, “it gave me immense pleasure. +You see, I am engaged to be married to a girl in town. +All her family went to your show, and I had the girl +at home all to myself. Oh! I had such a good time! +Thank you so much! Do lecture here again soon.”</p> + +<p>And, after wishing me a pleasant journey, he left +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" id="page82"></a>82</span> +me. I was glad to know I left at least one friend and +admirer behind me in Pittsburg.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I had a charming audience last night, a large and +most appreciative one. I was introduced by Mr. +George H. Welshons, of the Pittsburg <i>Times</i>, in a neat +little speech, humorous and very gracefully worded. +After the lecture, I was entertained at supper in the +rooms of the Press Club, and thoroughly enjoyed myself +with the members. As I entered the Club, I was +amused to see two journalists, who had heard me at +the lecture discourse on chewing, go to a corner of the +room, and there get rid of their <i>wads</i>, before coming +to shake hands with me.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>If you have not journeyed in a vestibule train of the +Pennsylvania Railroad Company, you do not know +what it is to travel in luxurious comfort. Dining +saloon, drawing room, smoking room, reading room +with writing tables, supplied with the papers and a +library of books, all furnished with exquisite taste and +luxury. The cookery is good and well served.</p> + +<p>The day has passed without adventures, but in comfort. +We left Pittsburg at seven in the morning. At +nine we passed Johnstown. The terrible calamity that +befell that city two years ago was before my mind’s +eye; the town suddenly inundated, the people rushing +on the bridge, and there caught and burnt alive. +America is the country for great disasters. Everything +here is on a huge scale. Toward noon, the +country grew hilly, and, for an hour before we reached +Harrisburg, it gave me great enjoyment, for in America, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" id="page83"></a>83</span> +where there is so much sameness in the landscapes, +it is a treat to see the mountains of Central +Pennsylvania breaking the monotony of the huge flat +stretch of land.</p> + +<p>The employees (I must be careful not to say “servants”) +of the Pennsylvania Railroad are polite and +form an agreeable contrast to those of the other railway +companies. Unhappily, the employees whom +you find on board the Pullman cars are not in the control +of the company.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The train will reach Jersey City for New York at +seven to-night. I shall dine at my hotel.</p> + +<p>About 5.30 it occurred to me to go to the dining-room +car and ask for a cup of tea. Before entering +the car I stopped at the lavatory to wash my hands. +Some one was using the basin. It was the conductor, +the autocrat in charge of the dining car, a fat, sleek, +chewing, surly, frowning, snarling cur.</p> + +<p>He turned round.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” said he.</p> + +<p>“I should very much like to wash my hands,” I +timidly ventured.</p> + +<p>“You see very well I am using the basin. You go +to the next car.”</p> + +<p>I came to America this time with a large provision +of philosophy, and quite determined to even enjoy +such little scenes as this. So I quietly went to the +next lavatory, returned to the dining-car, and sat down +at one of the tables.</p> + +<p>“Will you, please, give me a cup of tea?” I said to +one of the colored waiters. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" id="page84"></a>84</span> </p> + +<p>“I can’t do dat, sah,” said the negro. “You can have +dinnah.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t want <i>dinnah</i>,” I replied; “I want a cup +of tea.”</p> + +<p>“Den you must ask dat gem’man if you can have +it,” said he, pointing to the above mentioned “gentleman.”</p> + +<p>I went to him.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me,” said I, “are you the nobleman who +runs this show?”</p> + +<p>He frowned.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to dine; I should like to have a cup +of tea.”</p> + +<p>He frowned a little more, and deigned to hear my +request to the end.</p> + +<p>“Can I?” I repeated.</p> + +<p>He spoke not; he brought his eyebrows still lower +down, and solemnly shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Can’t I really?” I continued.</p> + +<p>At last he spoke.</p> + +<p>“You can,” quoth he, “for a dollar.”</p> + +<p>And, taking the bill of fare in his hands, without +wasting any more of his precious utterances, he pointed +out to me:</p> + +<p>“Each meal one dollar.”</p> + +<p>The argument was unanswerable.</p> + +<p>I went back to my own car, resumed my seat, and +betook myself to reflection.</p> + +<p>What I cannot, for the life of me, understand is +why, in a train which has a dining car and a kitchen, a +man cannot be served with a cup of tea, unless he pays +the price of a dinner for it, and this notwithstanding +the fact of his having paid five dollars extra to enjoy +the extra luxury of this famous vestibule train. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" id="page85"></a>85</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:513px; height:600px" src="images/img098.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“WELL, WHAT DO YOU WANT?”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" id="page86"></a>86</span> +After all, this is one out of the many illustrations +one could give to show that whatever Jonathan is, he +is not the master in his own house.</p> + +<p>The Americans are the most docile people in the +world. They are the slaves of their servants, whether +these are high officials, or the “reduced duchesses” of +domestic service. They are so submitted to their lot +that they seem to find it quite natural.</p> + +<p>The Americans are lions governed by bull-dogs and +asses.</p> + +<p>They have given themselves a hundred thousand +masters, these folks who laugh at monarchies, for +example, and scorn the rule of a king, as if it were +better to be bullied by a crowd than by an individual.</p> + +<p>In America, the man who pays does not command +the paid. I have already said it; I will maintain the +truth of the statement that, in America, the paid servant +rules. Tyranny from above is bad; tyranny from +below is worse.</p> + +<p>Of my many first impressions that have deepened into +convictions, this is one of the firmest.</p> + +<p>When you arrive at an English railway station, all +the porters seem to say: “Here is a customer, let us +treat him well.” And it is who shall relieve you of +your luggage, or answer any questions you may be +pleased to ask. They are glad to see you.</p> + +<p>In America, you may have a dozen parcels, not a +hand will move to help you with them. So Jonathan +is obliged to forego the luxury of hand baggage, so +convenient for long journeys. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" id="page87"></a>87</span> </p> + +<p>When you arrive at an American station, the officials +are all frowning and seem to say: “Why the deuce +don’t you go to Chicago by some other line instead of +coming here to bother us?”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:392px; height:430px" src="images/img100.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">ENGLISH RAILWAY STATION.</p></div> + +<p>This subject reminds me of an interesting fact, told +me by Mr. Chauncey M. Depew on board the <i>Teutonic</i>. +When tram-cars were first used in the States, it was a +long time before the drivers and conductors would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" id="page88"></a>88</span> +consent to wear any kind of uniform, so great is the +horror of anything like a badge of paid servitude. +Now that they do wear +some kind of uniform, +they spend their time +in standing sentry at +the door of their dignity, +and in thinking +that, if they were polite, +you would take +their affable manners +for servility.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 285px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:235px; height:400px" src="images/img101.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE RAILWAY PORTER.</td></tr></table> + +<p class="rt"><i>Everett House, New York.</i> (<i>Midnight.</i>)</p> + +<p>So many charming +houses have opened +their hospitable doors +to me in New York +that, when I am in +this city, I have soon +forgotten the little annoyances +of a railway journey or the hardships of a +lecture tour.</p> + +<p>After dining here, I went to spend the evening at +the house of Mr. Richard Watson Gilder, the poet, and +editor of the <i>Century Magazine</i>, that most successful +of all magazines in the world. A circulation of +nearly 300,000 copies—just think of it! But it need +not excite wonder in any one who knows this beautiful +and artistic periodical, to which all the leading +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" id="page89"></a>89</span> +<i>littérateurs</i> of America lend their pens, and the best +artists their pencils.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Richard Watson Gilder is one of the best and +most genial hostesses in New York. At her Fridays, +one meets the cream of intellectual society, the best +known names of the American aristocracy of talent.</p> + +<p>To-night I met Mr. Frank R. Stockton, the novelist, +Mr. Charles Webb, the humorist, Mr. Frank Millet, +the painter, and his wife, and a galaxy of celebrities +and beautiful women, all most interesting and +delightful people to meet. Conversation went on +briskly all over the rooms till late.</p> + +<p>The more I see of the American women, the more +confirmed I become in my impression that they are +typical; more so than the men. They are like no +other women I know. The brilliancy of their conversation, +the animation of their features, the absence +of affectation in their manners, make them unique. +There are no women to compare to them in a drawing-room. +There are none with whom I feel so much at +ease. Their beauty, physically speaking, is great; +but you are still more struck by their intellectual +beauty, the frankness of their eyes, and the naturalness +of their bearing.</p> + +<p>I returned to the Everett House, musing all the way +on the difference between the American women and +the women of France and England. The theme was +attractive, and, remembering that to-morrow would be +an off-day for me, I resolved to spend it in going more +fully into this fascinating subject with pen and ink.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" id="page90"></a>90</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Notes on American Women—Comparisons—How +Men Treat Women and Vice Versa—Scenes +and Illustrations.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>January</i> 18.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">A man</span> was one day complaining to a friend that +he had been married twenty years without being +able to understand his wife. “You should not complain +of that,” remarked the friend. “I have been married +to my wife two years only, and I understand her +perfectly.”</p> + +<p>The leaders of thought in France have long ago proclaimed +that woman was the only problem it was not +given to man to solve. They have all tried, and they +have all failed. They all acknowledge it—but they +are trying still.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the interest that woman inspires in every +Frenchman is never exhausted. Parodying Terence, +he says to himself, “I am a man, and all that concerns +woman interests me.” All the French modern novels +are studies, analytical, dissecting studies, of woman’s +heart.</p> + +<p>To the Anglo-Saxon mind, this may sometimes appear +a trifle puerile, if not also ridiculous. But to understand +this feeling, one must remember how a +Frenchman is brought up. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" id="page91"></a>91</span> </p> + +<p>In England, boys and girls meet and play together; +in America and Canada, they sit side by side on the +same benches at school, not only as children of tender +age, but at College and in the Universities. They get +accustomed to each other’s company; they see nothing +strange in being in contact with one another, and +this naturally tends to reduce the interest or curiosity +one sex takes in the other. But in France they are +apart, and the ball-room is the only place where they +can meet when they have attained the age of twenty!</p> + +<p>Strange to reflect that young people of both sexes +can meet in ball-rooms without exciting their +parents’ suspicions, and that they cannot do so in +class-rooms!</p> + +<p>When I was a boy at school in France, I can well remember +how we boys felt on the subject. If we heard +that a young girl, say the sister of some school-fellow, +was with her mother in the common parlor to see her +brother, why, it created a commotion, a perfect revolution +in the whole establishment. It was no use trying +to keep us in order. We would climb on the top +of the seats or of the tables to endeavor to see something +of her, even if it were but the top of her hat, or +a bit of her gown across the recreation yard at the very +end of the building. It was an event. Many of us +would even immediately get inspired and compose +verses addressed to the unknown fair visitor. In these +poetical effusions we would imagine the young girl +carried off by some miscreant, and we would fly to her +rescue, save her, and throw ourselves at her feet to receive +her hand as our reward. Yes, we would get quite +romantic or, in plain English, quite silly. We could +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" id="page92"></a>92</span> +not imagine that a woman was a reasoning being with +whom you can talk on the topics of the day, or have +an ordinary conversation on any ordinary subject. To +us a woman was a being with whom you can only talk +of love, or fall in love, or, maybe, for whom you may +die of love.</p> + +<p>This manner of training young men goes a long way +toward explaining the position of woman in France as +well as her ways. It explains why a Frenchman and +a Frenchwoman, when they converse together, seldom +can forget that one is a man and the other a woman. +It does not prove that a Frenchwoman must necessarily +be, and is, affected in her relations with men; +but it explains why she does not feel, as the American +woman does, that a man and woman can enjoy a <i>tête-à-tête</i> +free from all those commonplace flatteries, compliments, +and platitudes that badly-understood gallantry +suggests. Many American ladies have made me forget, +by the easiness of their manner and the charm and +naturalness of their conversation, that I was speaking +with women, and with lovely ones, too. This I +could never have forgotten in the company of French +ladies.</p> + +<p>On account of this feeling, and perhaps also of the +difference which exists between the education received +by a man and that received by a woman in France, +the conversation will always be on some light topics, +literary, artistic, dramatic, social, or other. Indeed, it +would be most unbecoming for a man to start a very +serious subject of conversation with a French lady to +whom he had just been introduced. He would be +taken for a pedant or a man of bad breeding. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" id="page93"></a>93</span> </p> + +<p>In America, men and women receive practically +the same education, and this of course enlarges the +circle of conversation between the sexes. I shall +always remember a beautiful American girl, not more +than twenty years of age, to whom I was once introduced +in New York, as she was giving to a lady sitting +next to her a most detailed description of the latest +bonnet invented in Paris, and who, turning toward me, +asked me point-blank if I had read M. Ernest Renan’s +“History of the People of Israel.” I had to confess +that I had not yet had time to read it. But she had, +and she gave me, without the remotest touch of affectation +or pedantry, a most interesting and learned +analysis of that remarkable work. I related this incident +in “Jonathan and his Continent.” On reading +it, some of my countrymen, critics and others, exclaimed: +“We imagine the fair American girl had a +pair of gold spectacles on.”</p> + +<p>“No, my dear compatriots, nothing of the sort. No +gold spectacles, no guy. It was a beautiful girl, +dressed with most exquisite taste and care, and most +charming and womanly.”</p> + +<p>An American woman, however learned she may be, +is a sound politician, and she knows that the best +thing she can make of herself is a woman, and she remains +a woman. She will always make herself as +attractive as she possibly can. Not to please men—I +believe she has a great contempt for them—but to +please herself. If, in a French drawing-room, I were +to remark to a lady how clever some woman in the +room looked, she would probably closely examine that +woman’s dress to find out what I thought was wrong +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" id="page94"></a>94</span> +about it. It would probably be the same in England, +but not in America.</p> + +<p>A Frenchwoman will seldom be jealous of another +woman’s cleverness. She will far more readily forgive +her this qualification than beauty. And in this particular +point, it is probable that the Frenchwoman +resembles all the women in the Old World.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Of all the ladies I have met, I have no hesitation in +declaring that the American ones are the least affected. +With them, I repeat it, I feel at ease as I do with no +other women in the world.</p> + +<p>With whom but an <i>Américaine</i> would the following +little scene have been possible?</p> + +<p>I was in Boston. It was Friday, and knowing it to +be the reception day of Mrs. X., an old friend of mine +and my wife’s, I thought I would call upon her early, +before the crowd of visitors had begun to arrive. So I +went to the house about half-past three in the afternoon. +Mrs. X. received me in the drawing-room, and +we were soon talking on the hundred and one topics +that old friends have on their tongue tips. Presently +the conversation fell on love and lovers. Mrs. X. +drew her chair up a little nearer to the fire, put the +toes of her little slippers on the fender stool, and with +a charmingly confidential, but perfectly natural, manner, +said:</p> + +<p>“You are married and love your wife; I am married +and love my husband; we are both artists, let’s have +our say out.”</p> + +<p>And we proceeded to have our say out.</p> + +<p>But all at once I noticed that about half an inch of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" id="page95"></a>95</span> +seam of her black silk bodice was unsewn. We men, +when we see a lady with something awry in her toilette, +how often do we long to say to her: “Excuse +me, madam, but perhaps you don’t know that you +have a hairpin sticking out two inches just behind +your ear,” or “Pardon me, Miss, I’m a married man, +there is something wrong there behind, just under +your waist belt.”</p> + +<p>Now I felt for Mrs. X., who was just going to receive +a crowd of callers with a little rent in one of her bodice +seams, and tried to persuade myself to be brave and +tell her of it. Yet I hesitated. People take things so +differently. The conversation went on unflagging. +At last I could not stand it any longer.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. X.,” said I, all in a breath, “you are married +and love your husband; I am married and love my +wife; we are both artists; there is a little bit of seam +come unsewn, just there by your arm, run and get it +sewn up!”</p> + +<p>The peals of laughter that I heard going on upstairs, +while the damage was being repaired, proved +to me that there was no resentment to be feared, but, +on the contrary, that I had earned the gratitude of +Mrs. X.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In many respects I have often been struck with the +resemblance which exists between French and American +women. When I took my first walk on Broadway, +New York, on a fine afternoon some two years and +a half ago, I can well remember how I exclaimed: +“Why, this is Paris, and all these ladies are <i>Parisiennes</i>!” +It struck me as being the same type of face, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" id="page96"></a>96</span> +the same animation of features, the same brightness of +the eyes, the same self-assurance, the same attractive +plumpness in women over thirty. To my mind, I was +having a walk on my own Boulevards (every Parisian +<i>owns</i> that place). The more I became acquainted with +American ladies, the more forcibly this resemblance +struck me. This was not a mere first impression. It +has been, and is still, a deep conviction; so much so +that whenever I returned to New York from a journey +of some weeks in the heart of the country, I felt as if +I was returning home.</p> + +<p>After a short time, a still closer resemblance between +the women of the two countries will strike a Frenchman +most forcibly. It is the same <i>finesse</i>, the same +suppleness of mind, the same wonderful adaptability. +Place a little French milliner in a good drawing-room +for an hour, and at the end of that time she will behave, +talk, and walk like any lady in the room. Suppose +an American, married below his <i>status</i> in society, +is elected President of the United States, I believe, at +the end of a week, this wife of his would do the honors +of the White House with the ease and grace of a highborn +lady.</p> + +<p>In England it is just the contrary.</p> + +<p>Of course good society is good society everywhere. +The ladies of the English aristocracy are perfect +queens; but the Englishwoman, who was not born a +lady, will seldom become a lady, and I believe this is +why <i>mésalliances</i> are more scarce in England than in +America, and especially in France. I could name +many Englishmen at the head of their professions, +who cannot produce their wives in society because +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" id="page97"></a>97</span> +these women have not been able to raise themselves to +the level of their husbands’ station in life. The +Englishwoman, as a rule, has no faculty for fitting herself +for a higher position than the one she was born +in; like a rabbit, she will often taste of the cabbage +she fed on. And I am bound to add that this is perhaps +a quality, and proves the truthfulness of her +character. She is no actress.</p> + +<p>In France, the <i>mésalliance</i>, though not relished by +parents, is not feared so much, because they know the +young woman will observe and study, and very soon +fit herself for her new position.</p> + +<p>And while on this subject of <i>mésalliance</i>, why not +try to destroy an absurd prejudice that exists in almost +every country on the subject of France?</p> + +<p>It is, I believe, the firm conviction of foreigners that +Frenchmen marry for money, that is to say, that all +Frenchmen marry for money. As a rule, when people +discuss foreign social topics, they have a wonderful +faculty for generalization.</p> + +<p>The fact that many Frenchmen do marry for money +is not to be denied, and the explanation of it is this: +We have in France a number of men belonging to a +class almost unknown in other countries, small <i>bourgeois</i> +of good breeding and genteel habits, but relatively +poor, who occupy posts in the different Government +offices. Their name is legion and their salary +something like two thousand francs ($400). These men +have an appearance to keep up, and, unless a wife +brings them enough to at least double their income, +they cannot marry. These young men are often sought +after by well-to-do parents for their daughters, because +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" id="page98"></a>98</span> +they are steady, cultured, gentlemanly, and occupy an +honorable position, which brings them a pension for +their old age. With the wife’s dowry, the couple can +easily get along, and lead a peaceful, uneventful, and +happy jog-trot life, which is the great aim of the +majority of the French people.</p> + +<p>But, on the other hand, there is no country where +you will see so many cases of <i>mésalliance</i> as France, and +this alone should dispose of the belief that Frenchmen +marry for money. Indeed, it is a most common thing +for a young Frenchman of good family to fall in love +with a girl of a much lower station of life than his own, +to court her, at first with perhaps only the idea of killing +time or of starting a <i>liaison</i>, to soon discover that +the girl is highly respectable, and to finally marry her. +This is a most common occurrence. French parents +frown on this sort of thing, and do their best to discourage +it, of course; but rather than cross their son’s +love, they give their consent, and trust to that adaptability +of Frenchwomen, of which I was speaking just +now, to raise herself to her husband’s level and make a +wife he will never be ashamed of.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The Frenchman is the slave of his womankind, but +not in the same way as the American is. The Frenchman +is brought up by his mother, and remains under +her sway till she dies. When he marries, his wife +leads him by the nose (an operation which he seems to +enjoy), and when, besides, he has a daughter, on whom +he generally dotes, this lady soon joins the other two +in ruling this easy-going, good-humored man. As a +rule, when you see a Frenchman, you behold a man +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" id="page99"></a>99</span> +who is kept in order by three generations of women: +mother, wife, and daughter.</p> + +<p>The American will lavish attention and luxury on +his wife and daughters, but he will save them the +trouble of being mixed in his affairs. His business is +his, his office is private. His womankind is the sun +and glory of his life, whose company he will hasten to +enjoy as soon as he can throw away the cares of his +business. In France, a wife is a partner, a cashier who +takes care of the money, even an adviser on stock and +speculations. In the mercantile class, she is both +cashier and bookkeeper. Enter a shop in France, +Paris included, and behind “Pay Here,” you will see +Madame, smiling all over as she pockets the money +for the purchase you have made. When I said she +is a partner, I might safely have said that she is the +active partner, and, as a rule, by far the shrewder of +the two. She brings to bear her native suppleness, +her fascinating little ways, her persuasive manners, and +many a customer whom her husband was allowing to go +away without a purchase, has been brought back by the +wife, and induced to part with his cash in the shop. +Last year I went to Paris, on my way home from Germany, +to spend a few days visiting the Exposition. +One day I entered a shop on the Boulevards to buy a +white hat. The new-fashioned hats, the only hats +which the man showed me, were narrow-brimmed, and +I declined to buy one. I was just going to leave, +when the wife, who, from the back parlor, had listened +to my conversation with her husband, stepped in and +said: “But, Adolphe, why do you let Monsieur go? +Perhaps he does not care to follow the fashion. We +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" id="page100"></a>100</span> +have a few white broad-brimmed hats left from last +year that we can let Monsieur have <i>à bon compte</i>. +They are upstairs, go and fetch them.” And, sure +enough, there was one which fitted and pleased me, and +I left in that shop a little sum of twenty-five francs, +which the husband was going to let me take elsewhere, +but which the wife managed to secure for the firm.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:369px; height:430px" src="images/img113.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">MADAM IS THE CASHIER.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>101</span> </p> + +<p>No one who has lived in France has failed to be +struck with the intelligence of the women, and there +exist few Frenchmen who do not readily admit how intellectually +inferior they are to their countrywomen, +chiefly among the middle and lower classes. And this +is not due to any special training, for the education received +by the women of that class is of the most limited +kind; they are taught to read, write, and reckon, +and their education is finished. Shrewdness is inborn +in them, as well as a peculiar talent for getting a hundred +cents’ worth for every dollar they spend. How to +make a house look pretty and attractive with small outlay; +how to make a dress or turn out a bonnet with a +few knick-knacks; how to make a savory dish out of a +small remnant of beef, mutton, and veal; all that is a +science not to be despised when a husband, in receipt +of a four or five hundred dollar salary, wants to make a +good dinner, and see his wife look pretty. No doubt +the aristocratic inhabitants of Mayfair and Belgravia in +London, and the plutocracy of New York, may think +all this very small, and these French people very uninteresting. +They can, perhaps, hardly imagine that such +people may live on such incomes and look decent. But +they do live, and live very happy lives, too. And I +will go so far as to say that happiness, real happiness, +is chiefly found among people of limited income. The +husband, who perhaps for a whole year has put quietly +by a dollar every week, so as to be able to give his +dear wife a nice present at Christmas, gives her a far +more valuable, a far better appreciated present, than +the millionaire who orders Tiffany to send a diamond +<i>rivière</i> to his wife. That quiet young French couple, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>102</span> +whom you see at the upper circle of a theater, and who +have saved the money to enable them to come and hear +such and such a play, are happier than the occupants +of the boxes on +the first tier. If +you doubt it, +take your opera +glasses, and +“look on this +picture, and on +this.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 300px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:248px; height:200px" src="images/img115.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE UPPER CIRCLE.</td></tr></table> + +<p>In observing +nations, I have +always taken +more interest in +the “million,” +who differ in +every country, than in the “upper ten,” who are alike +all over the world. People who have plenty of money +at their disposal generally discover the same way of +spending it, and adopt the same mode of living. +People who have only a small income show their +native instincts in the intelligent use of it. All these +differ, and these only are worth studying, unless you +belong to the staff of a “society” paper. (As a +Frenchman, I am glad to say we have no “society” +papers. England and America are the only two +countries in the world where these official organs of +Anglo-Saxon snobbery can be found, and I should not +be surprised to hear that Australia possessed some of +these already.)</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" id="page103"></a>103</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:440px; height:430px" src="images/img116.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE SAD-EYED OCCUPANTS OF THE BOX.</p></div> + +<p>The source of French happiness is to be found in +the thrift of the women, from the best middle class to +the peasantry. This thrift is also the source of French +wealth. A nation is really wealthy when the fortunes +are stable, however small. We have no railway kings, +no oil kings, no silver kings, but we have no tenement +houses, no Unions, no Work-houses. Our lower classes +do not yet ape the upper class people, either in their +habits or dress. The wife of a peasant or of a mechanic +wears a simple snowy cap, and a serge or cotton dress. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" id="page104"></a>104</span> +The wife of a shopkeeper does not wear any jewelry +because she cannot afford to buy real stones, and her +taste is too good to allow of her wearing false ones. +She is not ashamed of her husband’s occupation; she +does not play the fine lady while he is at work. She +saves him the expense of a cashier or of an extra clerk +by helping him in his business. When the shutters +are up, she enjoys life with him, and is the companion +of his pleasures as well as of his hardships. Club life +is unknown in France, except among the upper classes. +Man and wife are constantly together, and France is a +nation of Darbys and Joans. There is, I believe, no +country where men and women go through life on such +equal terms as in France.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In England (and here again I speak of the masses +only), the man thinks himself a much superior being to +the woman. It is the same in Germany. In America, +I should feel inclined to believe that a woman looks +down upon a man with a certain amount of contempt. +She receives at his hands attentions of all sorts, but I +cannot say, as I have remarked before, that I have ever +discovered in her the slightest trace of gratitude to +man.</p> + +<p>I have often tried to explain to myself this gentle +contempt of American ladies for the male sex; for, contrasting +it with the lovely devotion of Jonathan to his +womankind, it is a curious enigma. Have I found the +solution at last? Does it begin at school? In American +schools, boys and girls, from the age of five, follow +the same path to learning, and sit side by side on the +same benches. Moreover, the girls prove themselves +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>105</span> +capable of keeping pace with the boys. Is it not possible +that those girls, as they watched the performances +of the boys in the study, learned to say, “Is +that all?” While the young lords of creation, as they +have looked on at what “those girls” can do, have +been fain to exclaim: “Who would have thought it!” +And does not this explain the two attitudes: the great +respect of men for women, and the mild contempt of +women for men?</p> + +<p>Very often, in New York, when I had time to saunter +about, I would go up Broadway and wait until a car, +well crammed with people, came along. Then I would +jump on board and stand near the door. Whenever a +man wanted to get out, he would say to me “Please,” +or “Excuse me,” or just touch me lightly to warn me +that I stood in his way. But the women! Oh, the +women! why, it was simply lovely. They would just +push me away with the tips of their fingers, and turn +up such disgusted and haughty noses! You would +have imagined it was a heap of dirty rubbish in their +way.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Would you have a fair illustration of the respective +positions of woman in France, in England, and in +America?</p> + +<p>Go to a hotel, and watch the arrival of couples in +the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Now don’t go to the Louvre, the Grand Hotel, or +the Bristol, in Paris. Don’t go to the Savoy, the +Victoria, or the Metropole, in London. Don’t go to +the Brunswick, in New York, because in all these hotels +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>106</span> +you will see that all behave alike. Go elsewhere and, +I say, watch.</p> + +<p>In France, you will see the couples arrive together, +walk abreast toward the table assigned to them, very +often arm in arm, and smiling at each other—though +married.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:423px; height:430px" src="images/img119.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">IN FRANCE.</p></div> + +<p>In England, you will see John Bull leading the way. +He does not like to be seen eating in public, and +thinks it very hard that he should not have the dining-room +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>107</span> +all to himself. So he enters, with his hands in +his pockets, looking askance at everybody right and +left. Then, meek and demure, with her eyes cast down, +follows Mrs. John Bull.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:408px; height:430px" src="images/img120.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">IN ENGLAND.</p></div> + +<p>In America, behold the dignified, nay, the majestic +entry of Mrs. Jonathan, a perfect queen going toward +her throne, bestowing a glance on her subjects right +and left—and Jonathan behind! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>108</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:474px; height:610px" src="images/img121.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">IN AMERICA.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>109</span> </p> + +<p>They say in France that Paris is the paradise of +women. If so, there is a more blissful place than +paradise; there is another word to invent to give an +idea of the social position enjoyed by American ladies.</p> + +<p>If I had to be born again, and might choose my sex +and my birthplace, I would shout at the top of my +voice:</p> + +<p>“Oh, make me an American woman!”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:116px" src="images/img122.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>110</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">More about Journalism in America—A Dinner +at Delmonico’s—My First Appearance in an +American Church.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>Sunday Night, January</i> 19.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Have</span> been spending the whole day in reading +the Sunday papers.</p> + +<p>I am never tired of reading and studying the American +newspapers. The whole character of the nation +is there: Spirit of enterprise, liveliness, childishness, +inquisitiveness, deep interest in everything that is +human, fun and humor, indiscretion, love of gossip, +brightness.</p> + +<p>Speak of electric light, of phonographs and graphophones, +if you like; speak of those thousand and one +inventions which have come out of the American +brain; but if you wish to mention the greatest and +most wonderful achievement of American activity, +do not hesitate for a moment to give the palm to +American journalism; it is simply the <i>ne plus ultra</i>.</p> + +<p>You will find some people, even in America, who +condemn its loud tone; others who object to its meddling +with private life; others, again, who have something +to say of its contempt for statements which are +not in perfect accordance with strict truth. I even +believe that a French writer, whom I do not wish to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>111</span> +name, once said that very few statements to be found +in an American paper were to be relied upon—beyond +the date. People may say this and may say that +about American journalism; I confess that I like it, +simply because it will supply you with twelve—on +Sundays with thirty—pages that are readable from +the first line to the last. Yes, from the first line to +the last, including the advertisements.</p> + +<p>The American journalist may be a man of letters, +but, above all, he must possess a bright and graphic +pen, and his services are not wanted if he cannot write +a racy article or paragraph out of the most trifling incident. +He must relate facts, if he can, but if he cannot, +so much the worse for the facts; he must be +entertaining and turn out something that is readable.</p> + +<p>Suppose, for example, a reporter has to send to his +paper the account of a police-court proceeding. There +is nothing more important to bring to the office than +the case of a servant girl who has robbed her mistress +of a pair of diamond earrings. The English reporter +will bring to his editor something in the following +style:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Mary Jane So-and-So was yesterday charged before the magistrate +with stealing a pair of diamond earrings from her mistress. +It appears [always <i>it appears</i>, that is the formula] that, last Monday, +as Mrs. X. went to her room to dress for dinner, she missed a +pair of diamond earrings, which she usually kept in a little drawer +in her bedroom. On questioning her maid on the subject, she received +incoherent answers. Suspicion that the maid was the thief +arose in her mind, and——</p></div> + +<p>A long paragraph in this dry style will be published +in the <i>Times</i>, or any other London morning paper. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>112</span> </p> + +<p>Now, the American reporter will be required to +bring something a little more entertaining if he hopes +to be worth his salt on the staff of his paper, and he +will probably get up an account of the case somewhat +in the following fashion:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Mary Jane So-and-so is a pretty little brunette of some twenty +summers. On looking in the glass at her dainty little ears, she +fancied how lovely a pair of diamond earrings would look in them. +So one day she thought she would try on those of her mistress. +How lovely she looked! said the looking-glass, and the Mephistopheles +that is hidden in the corner of every man or woman’s +breast suggested that she should keep them. This is how Mary +Jane found herself in trouble, etc., etc.</p></div> + +<p>The whole will read like a little story, probably entitled +something like “Another Gretchen gone wrong +through the love of jewels.”</p> + +<p>The heading has to be thought of no less than the +paragraph. Not a line is to be dull in a paper sparkling +all over with eye-ticklers of all sorts. Oh! those +delicious headings that would resuscitate the dead, and +make them sit up in their graves!</p> + +<p>A Tennessee paper which I have now under my eyes +announces the death of a townsman with the following +heading:</p> + +<p>“At ten o’clock last night Joseph W. Nelson put on +his angel plumage.”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>“Racy, catching advertisements supplied to the +trade,” such is the announcement that I see in the +same paper. I understand the origin of such literary +productions as the following, which I cull from a Colorado +sheet: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>113</span> </p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>This morning our Saviour summoned away the jeweler William +T. Sumner, of our city, from his shop to another and a better +world. The undersigned, his widow, will weep upon his tomb, as +will also his two daughters, Maud and Emma, the former of whom +is married, and the other is open to an offer. The funeral will +take place to-morrow. Signed. His disconsolate widow, Mathilda +Sumner.</p> + +<p><i>P. S.</i>—This bereavement will not interrupt our business, which +will be carried on as usual, only our place of business will be removed +from Washington Street to No. 17 St. Paul Street, as our +grasping landlord has raised our rent.—M. S.</p></div> + +<p>The following advertisement probably emanates +from the same firm:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p><span class="sc">Personal—His Love Suddenly Returned</span>.—Recently +they had not been on the best of terms, owing to a little family jar +occasioned by the wife insisting on being allowed to renovate his +wearing apparel, and which, of course, was done in a bungling +manner; in order to prevent the trouble, they agreed to send all +their work hereafter to D., the tailor, and now everything is lovely, +and peace and happiness again reign in their household.</p></div> + +<p>All this is lively. Never fail to read the advertisements +of an American paper, or you will not have got +out of it all the fun it supplies.</p> + +<p>Here are a few from the Cincinnati <i>Enquirer</i>, which +tell different stories:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>1. The young <span class="sc">Madame J. C. Antonia</span>, just arrived from +Europe, will remain a short time; tells past, present, and future; +tells by the letters in hand who the future husband or wife will be; +brings back the husband or lover in so many days, and guarantees +to settle family troubles; can give good luck and success; ladies +call at once; also cures corns and bunions. Hours 10 <span class="scs">A. M.</span> and +9 <span class="scs">P. M.</span></p></div> + +<p>“Also cures corns and bunions” is a poem! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>114</span> </p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>2. The acquaintance desired of lady passing along Twelfth +Street at three o’clock Sunday afternoon, by blond gent standing +at corner. Address <span class="sc">Lou</span> K., 48, <i>Enquirer</i> Office.</p> + +<p>3. Will the three ladies that got on the electric car at the Zoo +Sunday afternoon favor three gents that got off at Court and Walnut +Streets with their address? Address <span class="sc">Electric Car</span>, <i>Enquirer</i> +Office.</p> + +<p>4. Will two ladies on Clark Street car, that noticed two gents +in front of Grand Opera House about seven last evening, please +address <span class="sc">Jands</span>, <i>Enquirer</i> Office.</p></div> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>A short time ago a man named Smith was bitten by +a rattlesnake and treated with whisky at a New York +hospital. An English paper would have just mentioned +the fact, and have the paragraph headed: “A +Remarkable Cure”; or, “A Man Cured of a Rattlesnake +Bite by Whisky”; but a kind correspondent +sends me the headings of this bit of intelligence in five +New York papers. They are as follows:</p> + +<p>1. “Smith Is All Right!”</p> + +<p>2. “Whisky Does It!”</p> + +<p>3. “The Snake Routed at all Points!”</p> + +<p>4. “The Reptile is Nowhere!”</p> + +<p>5. “Drunk for Three Days and Cured.”</p> + +<p>Let a batch of officials be dismissed. Do not suppose +that an American editor will accept the news +with such a heading as “Dismissal of Officials.” The +reporter will have to bring some label that will fetch +the attention. “Massacre at the Custom House,” or, +“So Many Heads in the Basket,” will do. Now, I +maintain that it requires a wonderful imagination—something +little short of genius, to be able, day after +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>115</span> +day, to hit on a hundred of such headings. But the +American journalist does it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:463px; height:430px" src="images/img128.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SMITH CURED OF RATTLESNAKE BITE.</p></div> + +<p>An American paper is a collection of short stories. +The Sunday edition of the New York <i>World</i>, the +New York <i>Herald</i>, the Boston <i>Herald</i>, the Boston +<i>Globe</i>, the Chicago <i>Tribune</i>, the Chicago <i>Herald</i>, and +many others, is something like ten volumes of miscellaneous +literature, and I do not know of any achievement +to be compared to it.</p> + +<p>I cannot do better than compare an American +paper to a large store, where the goods, the articles, +are labeled so as to immediately strike the customer. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>116</span> </p> + +<p>A few days ago, I heard my friend, Colonel Charles +H. Taylor, editor of the Boston <i>Globe</i>, give an interesting +summary of an address on journalism which he +is to deliver next Saturday before the members of the +New England Club of Boston. He maintained that the +proprietor of a newspaper has as much right to make +his shop-window attractive to the public as any tradesman. +If the colonel is of opinion that journalism +is a trade, and the journalist a mere tradesman, I agree +with him. If journalism is not to rank among the +highest and noblest of professions, and is to be nothing +more than a commercial enterprise, I agree with +him.</p> + +<p>Now, if we study the evolution of journalism for the +last forty or fifty years, we shall see that daily journalism, +especially in a democracy, has become a commercial +enterprise, and that journalism, as it was understood +forty years ago, has become to-day monthly journalism. +The dailies have now no other object than to give the +news—the latest—just as a tradesman that would succeed +must give you the latest fashion in any kind of +business. The people of a democracy like America are +educated in politics. They think for themselves, and +care but little for the opinions of such and such a journalist +on any question of public interest. They want +news, not literary essays on news. When I hear some +Americans say that they object to their daily journalism, +I answer that journalists are like other people who +supply the public—they keep the article that is +wanted.</p> + +<p>A free country possesses the government it deserves, +and the journalism it wants. A people active and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>117</span> +busy as the Americans are, want a journalism that will +keep their interest awake and amuse them; and they +naturally get it. The average American, for example, +cares not a pin for what his representatives say or +do in Washington; but he likes to be acquainted with +what is going on in Europe, and that is why the +American journalist will give him a far more detailed +account of what is going on in the Palace at Westminster +than of what is being said in the Capitol.</p> + +<p>In France, journalism is personal. On any great +question of the day, domestic or foreign, the Frenchman +will want to read the opinion of John Lemoinne +in the <i>Journal des Débats</i>, or the opinion of Edouard +Lockroy in the <i>Rappel</i>, or maybe that of Paul de +Cassagnac or Henri Rochefort. Every Frenchman is +more or less led by the editor of the newspaper which +he patronizes. But the Frenchman is only a democrat +in name and aspirations, not in fact. France made +the mistake of establishing a republic before she made +republicans of her sons. A French journalist signs +his articles, and is a leader of public opinion, so much +so that every successful journalist in France has been, +is now, and ever will be, elected a representative of +the people.</p> + +<p>In America, as in England, the journalist has no +personality outside the literary classes. Who, among +the masses, knows the names of Bennett, Dana, Whitelaw +Reid, Medill, Childs, in the United States? Who, +in England, knows the names of Lawson, Mudford, +Robinson, and other editors of the great dailies? If +it had not been for his trial and imprisonment, Mr. W. +T. Stead himself, though a most brilliant journalist, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>118</span> +would never have seen his name on anybody’s +lips.</p> + +<p>A leading article in an American or an English +newspaper will attract no notice at home. It will +only be quoted on the European Continent.</p> + +<p>It is the monthly and the weekly papers and magazines +that now play the part of the dailies of bygone +days. An article in the <i>Spectator</i> or <i>Saturday Review</i>, +or especially in one of the great monthly magazines, +will be quoted all over the land, and I believe that +this relatively new journalism, which is read only by +the cultured, has now for ever taken the place of the +old one.</p> + +<p>In a country where everybody reads, men as well +as women; in a country where nobody takes much +interest in politics outside of the State and the city in +which he lives, the journalist has to turn out every +day all the news he can gather, and present them to +the reader in the most readable form. Formerly daily +journalism was a branch of literature; now it is a +news store, and is so not only in America. The English +press shows signs of the same tendency, and so +does the Parisian press. Take the London <i>Pall Mall +Gazette</i> and <i>Star</i>, and the Paris <i>Figaro</i>, as illustrations +of what I advance.</p> + +<p>As democracy makes progress in England, journalism +will become more and more American, although the +English reporter will have some trouble in succeeding +to compete with his American <i>confrère</i> in humor and +liveliness.</p> + +<p>Under the guidance of political leaders, the newspapers +of Continental Europe direct public opinion. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>119</span> +In a democracy, the newspapers follow public opinion +and cater to the public taste; they are the servants of +the people. The American says to his journalists: “I +don’t care a pin for your opinions on such a question. +Give me the news and I will comment on it myself. +Only don’t forget that I am an overworked man, and +that before, or after, my fourteen hours’ work, I want +to be entertained.”</p> + +<p>So, as I have said elsewhere, the American journalist +must be spicy, lively, and bright. He must know +how, not merely to report, but to relate in a racy, +catching style, an accident, a trial, a conflagration, and +be able to make up an article of one or two columns +upon the most insignificant incident. He must be +interesting, readable. His eyes and ears must be +always open, every one of his five senses on the alert, +for he must keep ahead in this wild race for news. +He must be a good conversationalist on most subjects, +so as to bring back from his interviews with different +people a good store of materials. He must be a man +of courage, to brave rebuffs. He must be a philosopher, +to pocket abuse cheerfully.</p> + +<p>He must be a man of honor, to inspire confidence +in the people he has to deal with. Personally I can +say this of him, that wherever I have begged him, for +instance, to kindly abstain from mentioning this or +that which might have been said in conversation +with him, I have invariably found that he kept his +word.</p> + +<p>But if the matter is of public interest, he is, before +and above all, the servant of the public; so, never +challenge his spirit of enterprise, or he will leave no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>120</span> +stone unturned until he has found out your secret and +exhibited it in public.</p> + +<p>I do not think that American journalism needs an +apology.</p> + +<p>It is the natural outcome of circumstances and the +democratic times we live in. The Théâtre-Français is +not now, under a Republic, and probably never again +will be, what it was when it was placed under the patronage +and supervision of the French Court. Democracy +is the form of government least of all calculated to +foster literature and the fine arts. To that purpose, +Monarchy, with its Court and its fashionable society, +is the best. This is no reason to prefer a monarchy to +a republic. Liberty, like any other luxury, has to be +paid for.</p> + +<p>Journalism cannot be now what it was when papers +were read by people of culture. In a democracy, the +stage and journalism have to please the masses of the +people. As the people become better and better educated, +the stage and journalism will rise with them. +What the people want, I repeat it, is news, and journals +are properly called <i>news</i> papers.</p> + +<p>Speaking of American journalism, no man need use +apologetic language.</p> + +<p>Not when the proprietor of an American paper will +not hesitate to spend thousands of dollars to provide +his readers with the minutest details about some great +European event.</p> + +<p>Not when an American paper will, at its own expense, +send Henry M. Stanley to Africa in search of Livingstone.</p> + +<p>Not so long as the American press is vigilant, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" id="page121"></a>121</span> +keeps its thousand eyes open on the interests of the +American people.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Midnight.</i></p> + +<p>Dined this evening with Richard Mansfield at Delmonico’s. +I sat between Mr. Charles A. Dana, the +first of American journalists, and General Horace Porter, +and had what my American friends would call “a +mighty elegant time.” The host was delightful, the +dinner excellent, the wine “extra dry,” the speeches +quite the reverse. “Speeches” is rather a big word +for what took place at dessert. Every one supplied an +anecdote, a story, a reminiscence, and contributed to +the general entertainment of the guests.</p> + +<p>The Americans have too much humor to spoil their +dinners with toasts to the President, the Senate, the +House of Representatives, the army, the navy, the +militia, the volunteers, and the reserved forces.</p> + +<p>I once heard Mr. Chauncey M. Depew referring to +the volunteers, at some English public dinner, as “men +invincible—in peace, and invisible—in war.” After +dinner I remarked to an English peer:</p> + +<p>“You have heard to-night the great New York after-dinner +speaker; what do you think of his speech?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “it was witty; but I think his +remark about our volunteers was not in very good +taste.”</p> + +<p>I remained composed, and did not burst.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Newburgh, N. Y.</i>, <i>January</i> 21.</p> + +<p>I lectured in Melrose, near Boston, last night, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" id="page122"></a>122</span> +had the satisfaction of pleasing a Massachusetts audience +for the second time. After the lecture, I had +supper with Mr. Nat Goodwin, a very good actor, who +is now playing in Boston in a new play by Mr. Steele +Mackaye. Mr. Nat Goodwin told many good stories +at supper. He can entertain his friends in private as +well as he can the public.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>To-night I have appeared in a church, in Newburgh. +The minister, who took the chair, had the good sense +to refrain from opening the lecture with prayer. There +are many who have not the tact necessary to see that +praying before a humorous lecture is almost as irreverent +as praying before a glass of grog. It is as an artist, +however, that I resent that prayer. After the audience +have said <i>Amen</i>, it takes them a full quarter of an hour +to realize that the lecture is not a sermon; that they +are in a church, but not at church; and the whole +time their minds are in that undecided state, all +your points fall flat and miss fire. Even without the +preliminary prayer, I dislike lecturing in a church. +The very atmosphere of a church is against the success +of a light, humorous lecture, and many a point, +which would bring down the house in a theater, will be +received only with smiles in a lecture hall, and in respectful +silence in a church. An audience is greatly +influenced by surroundings.</p> + +<p>Now, I must say that the interior of an American +church, with its lines of benches, its galleries, and its +platform, does not inspire in one such religious feelings +as the interior of a European Catholic church. In +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" id="page123"></a>123</span> +many American towns, the church is let for meetings, +concerts, exhibitions, bazaars, etc., and so far as you +can see, there is nothing to distinguish it from an ordinary +lecture hall.</p> + +<p>Yet it is a church, and both lecturer and audience +feel it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:97px" src="images/img136.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption"></p></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" id="page124"></a>124</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Marcus Aurelius in America—Chairmen I have +had—American, English, and Scotch Chairmen—One +who had Been to Boulogne—Talkative +and Silent Chairmen—A Trying Occasion—The +Lord is Asked to Allow the +Audience to See my Points.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>January</i> 22.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">There</span> are indeed very few Americans who have +not either tact or a sense of humor. They make +the best of chairmen. They know that the audience +have not come to hear them, and that all that is required +of them is to introduce the lecturer in very few +words, and to give him a good start. Who is the +lecturer that would not appreciate, nay, love, such a +chairman as Dr. R. S. MacArthur, who introduced me +yesterday to a New York audience in the following +manner?</p> + +<p>“Ladies and Gentlemen,” said he, “the story goes +that, last summer, a party of Americans staying in +Rome paid a visit to the famous Spithöver’s bookshop +in the Piazza di Spagna. Now Spithöver is the most +learned of bibliophiles. You must go thither if you need +artistic and archæological works of the profoundest +research and erudition. But one of the ladies in this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" id="page125"></a>125</span> +tourists’ party only wanted the lively travels in America +of Max O’Rell, and she asked for the book at Spithöver’s. +There came in a deep guttural voice—an +Anglo-German voice—from a spectacled clerk behind +a desk, to this purport: ‘Marcus Aurelius vos neffer in +te Unided Shtaates!’ But, ladies and gentlemen, he +is now, and here he is.”</p> + +<p>With such an introduction, I was immediately in +touch with my audience.</p> + +<p>What a change after English chairmen!</p> + +<p>A few days before lecturing in any English town, +under the auspices of a Literary Society or Mechanics’ +Institute, the lecturer generally receives from the +secretary a letter running somewhat as follow:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p><span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>:</p> + +<p>I have much pleasure in informing you that our Mr. Blank, one +of our vice-presidents and a well-known resident here, will take the +chair at your lecture.</p></div> + +<p>Translated into plain English, this reads:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>My poor fellow, I am much grieved to have to inform you that a +chairman will be inflicted upon you on the occasion of your lecture +before the members of our Society.</p></div> + +<p>In my few years’ lecturing experience, I have come +across all sorts and conditions of chairmen, but I can +recollect very few that “have helped me.” Now, what +is the office, the duty, of a chairman on such occasions? +He is supposed to introduce the lecturer to the +audience. For this he needs to be able to make a neat +speech. He has to tell the audience who the lecturer +is, in case they should not know it, which is seldom the +case. I was once introduced to an audience who +knew me, by a chairman who, I don’t think, had ever +heard of me in his life. Before going on the platform +he asked me whether I had written anything, next +whether I was an Irishman or a Frenchman, etc. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" id="page126"></a>126</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:438px; height:610px" src="images/img139.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“MARCUS AURELIUS VOS NEFFER IN TE UNIDED SHTAATES!”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" id="page127"></a>127</span> </p> + +<p>Sometimes the chairman is nervous; he hems and +haws, cannot find the words he wants, and only succeeds +in fidgeting the audience. Sometimes, on the +other hand, he is a wit. There is danger again. I was +once introduced to a New York audience by General +Horace Porter. Those of my readers who know the +delightful general and have heard him deliver one of +those little gems of speeches in his own inimitable +manner, will agree with me that certainly there was +danger in that; and they will not be surprised when I +tell them that after his delightfully witty and graceful +little introduction, I felt as if the best part of the show +was over.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the chair has to be offered to a magnate +of the neighborhood, though he may be noted for his +long, prosy orations—which annoy the public; or to a +very popular man in the locality who gets all the applause—which +annoys the lecturer.</p> + +<p>“Brevity is the soul of wit,” should be the motto of +chairmen, and I sympathize with a friend of mine who +says that chairmen, like little boys and girls, should be +seen and not heard.</p> + +<p>Of those chairmen who can and do speak, the Scotch +ones are generally good. They have a knack of starting +the evening with some droll Scotch anecdote, told +with that piquant and picturesque accent of theirs, and +of putting the audience in a good humor. Occasionally +they will also make <i>apropos</i> and equally droll little +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" id="page128"></a>128</span> +speeches at the close. One evening, in talking of +America, I had mentioned the fact that American banquets +were very lively, and that I thought the fact of +Americans being able to keep up such a flow of wit for +so many hours, was perhaps due to their drinking Apollinaris +water instead of stronger things after dessert. +At the end of the lecture, the chairman rose and said +he had greatly enjoyed it, but that he must take exception +to one statement the lecturer had made, for +he thought it “fery deeficult to be wutty on Apollinaris +watter.”</p> + +<p>Another kind of chairman is the one who kills your +finish, and stops all the possibility of your being called +back for applause, by coming forward, the very instant +the last words are out of your mouth, to inform the +audience that the next lecture will be given by Mr. So-and-So, +or to make a statement of the Society’s financial +position, concluding by appealing to the members +to induce their friends to join.</p> + +<p>Then there is the chairman who does not know what +you are going to talk about, but thinks it his duty to +give the audience a kind of summary of what he imagines +the lecture is going to be. He is terrible. But he +is nothing to the one who, when the lecture is over, +will persist in summing it up, and explaining your +own jokes, especially the ones he has not quite seen +through. This is the dullest, the saddest chairman yet +invented.</p> + +<p>Some modest chairmen apologize for standing between +the lecturer and the audience, and declare they +cannot speak, but do. Others promise to speak a minute +only, but don’t. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>129</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:437px; height:610px" src="images/img142.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE CHAIRMAN.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>130</span> </p> + +<p>“What shall I speak about?” said a chairman to me +one day, after I had been introduced to him in the little +back room behind the platform.</p> + +<p>“If you will oblige me, sir,” I replied, “kindly speak +about—one minute.”</p> + +<p>Once I was introduced to the audience as the promoter +of good feelings between France and England.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes,” said the chairman, “we see clouds of +misunderstanding arise between the French—between +the English—between the two. The lecturer of this +evening makes it his business to disperse these clouds—these +clouds—to—to—— But I will not detain you +any longer. His name is familiar to all of us. I’m +sure he needs no introduction to this audience. We +all know him. I have much pleasure in introducing +to you Mr.—Mosshiay—Mr. ——” Then he looked at +me in despair.</p> + +<p>It was evident he had forgotten my name.</p> + +<p>“Max O’Rell is, I believe, what you are driving at,” +I whispered to him.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The most objectionable chairmen in England are, +perhaps, local men holding civic honors. Accustomed +to deliver themselves of a speech whenever and wherever +they get a chance, aldermen, town councilors, +members of local boards, and school boards, never +miss an opportunity of getting upon a platform to +address a good crowd. Not long ago, I was introduced +to an audience in a large English city by a candidate +for civic honors. The election of the town council +was to take place a fortnight afterward, and this gentleman +profited by the occasion to air all his grievances +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>131</span> +against the sitting council, and to assure the citizens +that if they would only elect him, there were bright +days in store for them and their city. This was the +gist of the matter. The speech lasted twenty minutes.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:458px; height:430px" src="images/img144.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“HOW DO YOU PRONOUNCE YOUR NAME?”</p></div> + +<p>Once the chair was taken by an alderman in a Lancashire +city, and the hall was crowded. “What a fine +house!” I remarked to the chairman as we sat down +on the platform.</p> + +<p>“Very fine indeed,” he said; “everybody in the +town knew I was going to take the chair.”</p> + +<p>I was sorry I had spoken. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>132</span> </p> + +<p>More than once, when announced to deliver a lecture +on France and the French, I have been introduced +by a chairman who, having spent his holidays in that +country once or twice, opened the evening’s proceedings +by himself delivering a lecture on France. I have +felt very tempted to imitate a <i>confrère</i>, and say to the +audience: “Ladies and Gentlemen, as one lecture on +France is enough for an evening, perhaps you would +rather I spoke about something else now.” The <i>confrère</i> +I have just mentioned was to deliver a lecture on +Charles Dickens one evening. The chairman knew +something of Charles Dickens and, for quite a quarter +of an hour, spoke on the great English novelist, giving +anecdotes, extracts of his writings, etc. When the +lecturer rose, he said: “Ladies and Gentlemen, two +lectures on Charles Dickens are perhaps more than you +expected to hear to-night. You have just heard a +lecture on Charles Dickens. I am now going to give +you one on Charles Kingsley.”</p> + +<p>Sometimes I get a little amusement, however (as in +the country town of X.), out of the usual proceedings +of the society before whose members I am engaged to +appear. At X., the audience being assembled and the +time up, I was told to go on the platform alone and, +being there, to immediately sit down. So I went on, +and sat down. Some one in the room then rose and +proposed that Mr. N. should take the chair. Mr. N., +it appeared, had been to Boulogne (<i>to B’long</i>), and was +particularly fitted to introduce a Frenchman. In a +speech of about five minutes duration, all Mr. N.’s +qualifications for the post of chairman that evening +were duly set forth. Then some one else rose and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>133</span> +seconded the proposition, re-enumerating most of these +qualifications. Mr. N. then marched up the hall, +ascended the platform, and proceeded to return thanks +for the kind manner in which he had been proposed +for the chair and for the enthusiasm (a few friends had +applauded) with which the audience had sanctioned +the choice. He said it was true that he had been in +France, and that he greatly admired the country and +the people, and he was glad to have this opportunity +to say so before a Frenchman. Then he related some +of his traveling impressions in France. A few people +coughed, two or three more bold stamped their feet, +but he took no heed and, for ten minutes, he gave the +audience the benefit of the information he had gathered +in Boulogne. These preliminaries over, I gave +my lecture, after which Mr. N. called upon a member +of the audience to propose a vote of thanks to the +lecturer “for the most amusing and interesting discourse, +etc.”</p> + +<p>Now a paid lecturer wants his check when his work +is over, and although a vote of thanks, when it is +spontaneous, is a compliment which he greatly appreciates, +he is more likely to feel awkwardness than +pleasure when it is a mere red-tape formality. The +vote of thanks, on this particular occasion, was proposed +in due form. Then it was seconded by some +one who repeated two or three of my points and spoiled +them. By this time I began to enter into the fun of +the thing, and, after having returned thanks for the +vote of thanks and sat down, I stepped forward again, +filled with a mild resolve to have the last word:</p> + +<p>“Ladies and Gentlemen,” I said, “I have now much +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>134</span> +pleasure in proposing that a hearty vote of thanks be +given Mr. N. for the able manner in which he has +filled the chair. I am proud to have been introduced +to you by an Englishman who knows my country so +well.” I went again through the list of Mr. N.’s +qualifications, not forgetting the trip to Boulogne and +the impressions it had left on him. Somebody rose +and seconded this. Mr. N. delivered a speech to +thank the audience once more, and then those who +had survived went home.</p> + +<p>Some Nonconformist societies will engage a light or +humorous lecturer, put him in their chapel, and open +his mouth with prayer. Prayer is good, but I would +as soon think of saying grace before dancing as of beginning +my lecture with a prayer. This kind of experience +has been mine several times. A truly trying +experience it was, on the first occasion, to be accompanied +to the platform by the minister, who, motioning +me to sit down, advanced to the front, lowered his +head, and said in solemn accents: “Let us pray.” +After I got started, it took me fully ten minutes to +make the people realize that they were not at church. +This experience I have had in America as well as in +England. Another experience in this line was still +worse, for the prayer was supplemented by the singing +of a hymn of ten or twelve verses. You may easily +imagine that my first remark fell dead flat.</p> + +<p>I have been introduced to audiences as Mossoo, +Meshoe, and Mounzeer O’Reel, and other British adaptations +of our word <i>Monsieur</i>, and found it very difficult +to bear with equanimity a chairman who maltreated +a name which I had taken some care to keep correctly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>135</span> +spelt before the public. Yet this man is charming +when compared with the one who, in the midst of his +introductory remarks, turns to you, and in a stage +whisper perfectly audible all over the hall, asks: “How +do you pronounce your name?”</p> + +<p>Passing over chairman chatty and chairman terse, +chairman eloquent and chairman the reverse, I feel decidedly +most kindly toward the silent chairman. He +is very rare, but he does exist and, when met with, is exceedingly +precious. Why he exists, in some English +Institutes, I have always been at a loss to imagine. +Whether he comes on to see that the lecturer does not +run off before his time is up, or with the water bottle, +which is the only portable thing on the platform generally; +whether he is a successor to some venerable +deaf and dumb founder of his Society; or whether he +goes on with the lecturer to give a lesson in modesty +to the public, as who should say: “I could speak an if +I would, but I forbear.” Be his <i>raison d’être</i> what it +may, we all love him. To the nervous novice he is a +kind of quiet support, to the old stager he is as a picture +unto the eye and as music unto the ear.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Here I pause. I want to collect my thoughts. Does +my memory serve me? Am I dreaming, or worse still, +am I on the point of inventing? No, I could not invent +such a story, it is beyond my power.</p> + +<p>I was once lecturing to the students of a religious +college in America. Before I began, a professor +stepped forward, and offered a prayer, in which he +asked the Lord to allow the audience to see my points.</p> + +<p>Now, I duly feel the weight of responsibility attaching +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>136</span> +to such a statement, and in justice to myself I +can do no less than give the reader the petition just +as it fell on my astonished ears:</p> + +<p>“Lord, Thou knowest that we work hard for Thee, +and that recreation is necessary in order that we may +work with renewed vigor. We have to-night with us +a gentleman from France [excuse my recording a compliment +too flattering], whose criticisms are witty and +refined, <i>but subtle</i>, and we pray Thee to so prepare our +minds that we may thoroughly understand and enjoy +them.”</p> + +<p>“<i>But subtle!</i>”</p> + +<p>I am still wondering whether my lectures are so +subtle as to need praying over, or whether that audience +was so dull that they needed praying for.</p> + +<p>Whichever it was, the prayer was heard, for the audience +proved warm, keen, and thoroughly appreciative.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:88px" src="images/img149.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>137</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">Reflections on the Typical American.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>January</i> 23.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">I was</span> asked to-day by the editor of the <i>North +American Review</i> to write an article on the typical +American.</p> + +<p>The typical American!</p> + +<p>In the eyes of my beloved compatriots, the typical +American is a man with hair falling over his shoulders, +wearing a sombrero, a red shirt, leather leggings, a +pair of revolvers in his belt, spending his life on horseback, +and able to shoot a fly off the tip of your nose +without for a moment endangering your olfactory +organ; and, since Buffalo Bill has been exhibiting his +Indians and cowboys to the Parisians, this impression +has become a deep conviction.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget the astonishment I caused to my +mother when I first broke the news to her that I +wanted to go to America. My mother had practically +never left a lovely little provincial town of +France. Her face expressed perfect bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say you want to go to America?” +she said. “What for?”</p> + +<p>“I am invited to give lectures there.”</p> + +<p>“Lectures? in what language?” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>138</span> </p> + +<p>“Well, mother, I will try my best in English.”</p> + +<p>“Do they speak English out there?”</p> + +<p>“H’m—pretty well, I think.”</p> + +<p>We did not go any further on the subject that time. +Probably the good mother thought of the time when +the Californian gold-fields attracted all the scum of +Europe, and, no doubt, she thought that it was strange +for a man who had a decent position in Europe, to go +and “seek fortune” in America.</p> + +<p>Later on, however, after returning to England, I +wrote to her that I had made up my mind to go.</p> + +<p>Her answer was full of gentle reproaches, and of +sorrow at seeing that she had lost all her influence +over her son. She signed herself “always your loving +mother,” and indulged in a postscript. Madame de +Sévigné said that the gist of a woman’s letter was to +be found in the postscript.</p> + +<p>My mother’s was this:</p> + +<p>“P.S.—I shall not tell any one in the town that you +have gone to America.”</p> + +<p>This explains why I still dare show my face in my +little native town.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The typical American!</p> + +<p>First of all, does he exist? I do not think so. As +I have said elsewhere, there are Americans in plenty, +but <i>the</i> American has not made his appearance yet. +The type existed a hundred years ago in New England. +He is there still; but he is not now a national type, +he is only a local one. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>139</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:375px; height:610px" src="images/img152.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE TYPICAL AMERICAN.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>140</span> </p> + +<p>I was talking one day with two eminent Americans +on the subject of the typical American, real or imaginary. +One of them was of opinion that he was a taciturn +being; the other, on the contrary, maintained +that he was talkative. How is a foreigner to dare +decide, where two eminent natives find it impossible to +agree?</p> + +<p>In speaking of the typical American, let us understand +each other. All the civilized nations of the +earth are alike in one respect; they are all composed +of two kinds of men, those that are gentlemen, and +those that are not. America is no exception to this +rule. Fifth Avenue does not differ from Belgravia +and Mayfair. A gentleman is everywhere a gentleman. +As a type, he belongs to no particular country, +he is universal.</p> + +<p>When the writer of some “society” paper, English +or American, reproaches a sociologist for writing about +the masses instead of the classes, suggesting that “he +probably never frequented the best society of the +nation he describes,” that writer writes himself down +an ass.</p> + +<p>In the matters of feeling, conduct, taste, culture, I +have never discovered the least difference between a +gentleman from America and a gentleman from +France, England, Russia, or any other country of +Europe—including Germany. So, if we want to find a +typical American, it is not in good society that we +must search for him, but among the mass of the population.</p> + +<p>Well, it is just here that our search will break down. +We shall come across all sorts and conditions of Americans, +but not one that is really typical.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>141</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:485px; height:610px" src="images/img154.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE AMERICAN OF A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>142</span></p> + +<p>A little while ago, the <i>Century Magazine</i> published +specimens of composite photography. First, there was +the portrait of one person, then that of this same face +with another superposed, then another containing +three faces blended, and so on up to eight or nine. On +the last page the result was shown. I can only compare +the typical American to the last of those. This +appears to me the process of evolution through which +the American type is now going. What it will be +when this process of evolution is over, no one, I imagine, +can tell. The evolution will be complete when +immigration shall have ceased, and all the different +types have been well mixed and assimilated. While +the process of assimilation is still going on, the result +is suspended, and the type is incomplete.</p> + +<p>But, meanwhile, are there not certain characteristic +traits to be found throughout almost all America? +That is a question much easier to answer.</p> + +<p>Is it necessary to repeat that I put aside good society +and confine myself merely to the people?</p> + +<p>Nations are like individuals: when they are young, +they have the qualities and the defects of children. +The characteristic trait of childhood is curiosity. It is +also that of the American. I have never been in Australia, +but I should expect to find this trait in the +Australian.</p> + +<p>Look at American journalism. What does it live +on? Scandal and gossip. Let a writer, an artist, or +any one else become popular in the States, and the +papers will immediately tell the public at what time +he rises and what he takes for breakfast. When any +one of the least importance arrives in America, he is +quickly beset by a band of reporters who ask him a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>143</span> +host of preposterous questions and examine him minutely +from head to foot, in order to tell the public +next day whether he wears laced, buttoned, or elastic +boots, enlighten them as to the cut of his coat and the +color of his trowsers, and let them know if he parts his +hair in the middle or not.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:420px; height:430px" src="images/img156.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">CURIOSITY IN AUSTRALIA.</p></div> + +<p>Every time I went into a new town to lecture I was +interviewed, and the next day, besides an account of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>144</span> +the lecture, there was invariably a paragraph somewhat +in this style:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>The lecturer is a man of about forty, whose cranium is getting +visible through his hair. He wears a double eye-glass, with which +he plays while talking to his audience. His handkerchief was +black-bordered. He wore the regulation patent leather shoes, and +his shirt front was fastened with a single stud. He spoke without +effort or pretension, and often with his hands in his pockets, etc.</p></div> + +<p>A few days ago, on reading the morning papers in a +town where I had lectured the night before, I found, +in one of them, about twenty lines consecrated to my +lecture, and half a column to my hat.</p> + +<p>I must tell you that this hat was brown, and all the +hats in America are black. If you wear anything +that is not exactly like what Americans wear, you are +gazed at as if you were a curious animal. The Americans +are as great <i>badauds</i> as the Parisians. In London, +you may go down Regent Street or Piccadilly +got up as a Swiss admiral, a Polish general, or even a +Highlander, and nobody will take the trouble to look at +you. But, in America, you have only to put on a brown +hat or a pair of light trowsers, and you will become the +object of a curiosity which will not fail very promptly +to bore you, if you are fond of tranquility, and like to +go about unremarked.</p> + +<p>I was so fond of that poor brown hat, too! It was +an incomparably obliging hat. It took any shape, and +adapted itself to any circumstances. It even went into +my pocket on occasions. I had bought it at Lincoln +& Bennett’s, if you please. But I had to give it up. +To my great regret, I saw that it was imperative: its +popularity bid fair to make me jealous. Twenty lines +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145" id="page145"></a>145</span> +about me, and half a column about that hat! It was +time to come to some determination. It was not to +be put up with any longer. So I took it up tenderly, +smoothed it with care, and laid it in a neat box which +was then posted to the chief editor of the paper with +the following note:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p><span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>:</p> + +<p>I see by your estimable paper that my hat has attracted a good +deal of public attention during its short sojourn in your city. I am +even tempted to think that it has attracted more of it than my +lecture. I send you the interesting headgear, and beg you will +accept it as a souvenir of my visit, and with my respectful compliments.</p></div> + +<p>A citizen of the Great Republic knows how to take +a joke. The worthy editor inserted my letter in the +next number of his paper, and informed his readers +that my hat fitted him to a nicety, and that he was +going to have it dyed and wear it. He further said, +“Max O’Rell evidently thinks the song, ‘Where did +you get that hat?’ was specially written to annoy +him,” and went on to the effect that “Max O’Rell is +not the only man who does not care to tell where he +got his hat.”</p> + +<p>Do not run away with the idea that such nonsense as +this has no interest for the American public. It has.</p> + +<p>American reporters have asked me, with the most +serious face in the world, whether I worked in the +morning, afternoon, or evening, and what color paper +I used (<i>sic</i>). One actually asked me whether it was +true that M. Jules Claretie used white paper to write +his novels on, and blue paper for his newspaper articles. +Not having the honor of a personal acquaintance with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146" id="page146"></a>146</span> +the director of the Comédie-Française, I had to confess +my inability to gratify my amiable interlocutor.</p> + +<p>Look at the advertisements in the newspapers. +There you have the bootmaker, the hatter, the traveling +quack, publishing their portraits at the head of +their advertisements. Why are those portraits there, +if it be not to satisfy the curiosity of customers?</p> + +<p>The mass of personalities, each more trumpery than +the other, those details of people’s private life, and all +the gossip daily served up in the newspapers, are they +not proof enough that curiosity is a characteristic trait +of the American?</p> + +<p>This curiosity, which often shows itself in the most +impossible questions, gives immense amusement to +Europeans. Unhappily, it amuses them at the expense +of well-bred Americans—people who are as innocent +of it as the members of the stiffest aristocracy in +the world could be. The English, especially, persist +in not distinguishing Americans who are gentlemen +from Americans who are not.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>And even that easy-going American <i>bourgeois</i>, with +his childish but good-humored nature, they often fail +to do justice to. They too often look at his curiosity +as impertinence and ill-breeding, and will not admit +that, in nine cases out of ten, the freedom he uses +with you is but a show of good feeling, an act of good-fellowship.</p> + +<p>Take, for instance, the following little story:</p> + +<p>An American is seated in a railway carriage, and +opposite him is a lady in deep mourning, and looking a +picture of sadness; a veritable <i>mater dolorosa</i>. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>147</span> </p> + +<p>“Lost a father?” begins the worthy fellow.</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“A mother, maybe?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ah! a child then?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir; I have lost my husband.”</p> + +<p>“Your husband! Ah! Left you comfortable?”</p> + +<p>The lady, rather offended, retires to the other end +of the car, and cuts short the conversation.</p> + +<p>“Rather stuck up, this woman,” remarks the good +Yankee to his neighbor.</p> + +<p>The intention was good, if the way of showing it +was not. He had but wanted to show the poor lady +the interest he took in her.</p> + +<p>After having seen you two or three times, the +American will suppress “Mr.” and address you by +your name without any handle to it. Do not say that +this is ill placed familiarity; it is meant as an act of +good-fellowship, and should be received by you as +such.</p> + +<p>If you are stiff, proud, and stuck-up, for goodness’ +sake, never go to America; you will never get on there. +On the contrary, take over a stock of simple, affable +manners and a good temper, and you will be treated +as a friend everywhere, fêted, and well looked after.</p> + +<p>In fact, try to deserve a certificate of good-fellowship, +such as the Clover Club, of Philadelphia, awards +to those who can sit at its hospitable table without +taking affront at the little railleries leveled at them by +the members of that lively association. With people +of refinement who have humor, you can indulge in a +joke at their expense. So says La Bruyère. Every +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>148</span> +visitor to America, who wants to bring back a pleasant +recollection of his stay there, should lay this to heart.</p> + +<p>Such are the impressions that I formed of the American +during my first trip to his country, and the more +I think over the matter, the more sure I am that +they were correct. Curiosity is his chief little failing, +and good-fellowship his most prominent quality. This +is the theme I will develop and send to the Editor of +the <i>North American Review</i>. I will profit by having a +couple of days to spend in New York to install myself +in a cosy corner of that cosiest of clubs, the “Players,” +and there write it.</p> + +<p>It seems that, in the same number of this magazine, +the same subject is to be treated by Mr. Andrew Lang. +He has never seen Jonathan at home, and it will be interesting +to see what impressions he has formed of him +abroad. In the hands of such a graceful writer, the +“typical American” is sure to be treated in a pleasant +and interesting manner.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:110px; height:57px" src="images/img161.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption"></p></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>149</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<p class="tt">I am Asked to Express Myself Freely on +America—I Meet Mrs. Blank and for the +First Time Hear of Mr. Blank—Beacon Street +Society—The Boston Clubs.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Boston</i>, <i>January</i> 25.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">It</span> amuses me to notice how the Americans to whom +I have the pleasure of being introduced, refrain +from asking me what I think of America. But they +invariably inquire if the impressions of my first visit are +confirmed.</p> + +<p>This afternoon, at an “At Home,” I met a lady from +New York, who asked me a most extraordinary question.</p> + +<p>“I have read ‘Jonathan and His Continent,’” she +said to me. “I suppose that is a book of impressions +written for publication. But now, tell me <i>en confidence</i>, +what do you think of us?”</p> + +<p>“Is there anything in that book,” I replied, “which +can make you suppose that it is not the faithful expression +of what the author thinks of America and +the Americans?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said, “it is so complimentary, taken altogether, +that I must confess I had a lurking suspicion +of your having purposely flattered us and indulged our +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150" id="page150"></a>150</span> +national weakness for hearing ourselves praised, so as +to make sure of a warm reception for your book.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt,” I replied, “by writing a flattering book +on any country, you would greatly increase your +chance of a large sale in that country; but, on the +other hand, you may write an abusive book on any +country and score a great success among that nation’s +neighbors. For my part, I have always gone my own +quiet way, philosophizing rather than opinionating, and +when I write, it is not with the aim of pleasing any +particular public. I note down what I see, say what +I think, and people may read me or not, just as they +please. But I think I may boast, however, that my +pen is never bitter, and I do not care to criticise unless +I feel a certain amount of sympathy with the subject +of my criticism. If I felt that I could only honestly +say hard things of people, I would always abstain +altogether.”</p> + +<p>“Now,” said my fair questioner, “how is it that you +have so little to say about our Fifth Avenue folks? Is it +because you have seen very little of them, or is it because +you could only have said hard things of them?”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary,” I replied; “I saw a good deal of +them, but what I saw showed me that to describe them +would be only to describe polite society, as it exists in +London and elsewhere. Society gossip is not in my +line; boudoir and club smoking-room scandal has no +charm for me. Fifth Avenue resembles too much +Mayfair and Belgravia to make criticism of it worth +attempting.”</p> + +<p>I knew this answer would have the effect of putting +me into the lady’s good graces at once, and I was not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>151</span> +disappointed. She accorded to me her sweetest smile, +as I bowed to her to go and be introduced to another +lady by the mistress of the house.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:431px; height:430px" src="images/img164.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">FIFTH AVENUE FOLK.</p></div> + +<p>The next lady was a Bostonian. I had to explain to +her why I had not spoken of Beacon Street people, +using the same argument as in the case of Fifth Avenue +society, and with the same success.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>At the same “At Home,” I had the pleasure of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>152</span> +meeting Mrs. Blank, whom I had met many times in +London and Paris.</p> + +<p>She is one of the crowd of pretty and clever women +whom America sends to brighten up European society, +and who reappear in London and Paris with the +regularity of the swallows. You meet them everywhere, +and conclude that they must be married, since +they are styled Mrs. and not Miss. But whether they +are wives, widows, or <i>divorcées</i>, you rarely think of inquiring, +and you may enjoy their friendship for years +without knowing whether they have a living lord or +not.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:493px; height:370px" src="images/img165.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A TELEPHONE AND TICKER.</p></div> + +<p>Mrs. Blank, as I say, is a most fascinating specimen +of America’s daughters, and to-day I find that Mr. +Blank is also very much alive, but that the companions +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>153</span> +of his joys and sorrows are the telephone and the +ticker; in fact it is thanks to his devotion to these +that the wife of his bosom is able to adorn European +society during every recurring season.</p> + +<p>American women have such love for freedom and +are so cool-headed that their visits to Europe could +not arouse suspicion even in the most malicious. +But, nevertheless, I am glad to have heard of Mr. +Blank, because it is comfortable to have one’s mind at +rest on these subjects. Up to now, whenever I had +been asked, as sometimes happened, though seldom: +“Who is Mr. Blank, and where is he?” I had always +answered: “Last puzzle out!”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Lunched to-day in the beautiful Algonquin Club, +as the guest of Colonel Charles H. Taylor, and met the +editors of the other Boston papers, among whom was +John Boyle O’Reilly,<a name="FnAnchor_1" id="FnAnchor_1" href="#Footnote_1"><span class="sp">1</span></a> the lovely poet, and the delightful +man. The general conversation turned on two +subjects most interesting to me, viz., American journalism, +and American politics. All these gentlemen +seemed to agree that the American people take an +interest in local politics only, but not in imperial +politics, and this explains why the papers of the +smaller towns give detailed accounts of what is +going on in the houses of legislature of both city and +State, but do not concern themselves about what is +going on in Washington. I had come to that conclusion +myself, seeing that the great papers of New York, +Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago devoted columns to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>154</span> +sayings and doings of the political world in London +and Paris, and seldom a paragraph to the sittings of +Congress in Washington.</p> + +<p>In the morning, before lunch, I had called on Mr. +John Holmes, the editor of the Boston <i>Herald</i>, and +there met a talented lady who writes under the <i>nom de +plume</i> of “Max Eliot,” and with whom I had a delightful +half-hour’s chat.</p> + +<p>I have had to-day the pleasure of meeting the editors +of all the Boston newspapers.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In the evening, I dined with the members of the +New England Club, who meet every month to listen, at +dessert, to some interesting debate or lecture. The +wine is supplied by bets. You bet, for instance, that +the sun will shine on the following Friday at half-past +two. If you lose, you are one of those who will have +to supply one, two, or three bottles of champagne at +the next dinner, and so on. This evening the lecture, +or rather the short address, was given by Colonel Charles +H. Taylor on the history of American journalism. I +was particularly interested to hear the history of the +foundation of the New York <i>Herald</i>, by James Gordon +Bennett, and that of the New York <i>World</i>, by Mr. +Pulitzer, a Hungarian emigrant, who, some years ago, +arrived in the States, unable to speak English, became +jack-of-all-trades, then a reporter on a German paper, +proprietor of a Western paper, and then bought +the <i>World</i>, which is now one of the best paying concerns +in the whole of the United States. This man, +who, to maintain himself, not in health, but just alive, +is obliged to be constantly traveling, directs the paper +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page155" id="page155"></a>155</span> +by telegraph from Australia, from Japan, from London, +or wherever he happens to be. It is nothing short of +marvelous.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I finished the evening in the St. Botolph Club, and +I may say that I have to-day spent one of the most +delightful days of my life, with those charming and +highly cultured Bostonians, who, a New York witty +friend of mine declares, “are educated beyond their +intellects.”</p> + +<hr class="foot" /><div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1" href="#FnAnchor_1"><span class="fn">1</span></a> J. B. O’Reilly died in 1890.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:126px" src="images/img168.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>156</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">A Lively Sunday in Boston—Lecture in +the Boston Theater—Dr. Oliver Wendell +Holmes—The Booth-Modjeska Combination.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Boston</i>, <i>January</i> 26.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">“Max Eliot”</span> devotes a charming and most +flattering article to me in this morning’s <i>Herald</i>, +embodying the conversation we had together +yesterday in the Boston <i>Herald’s</i> office. Many thanks, +Max.</p> + +<p>A reception was given to me this afternoon by +Citizen George Francis Train, and I met many +artists, journalists, and a galaxy of charming +women.</p> + +<p>The Citizen is pronounced to be the greatest crank +on earth. I found him decidedly eccentric, but entertaining, +witty, and a first-rate <i>raconteur</i>. He shakes +hands with you in the Chinese fashion—he shakes +his own. He has taken a solemn oath that his +body shall never come in contact with the body of +any one.</p> + +<p>A charming programme of music and recitations +was gone through.</p> + +<p>The invitation cards issued for the occasion speak +for themselves. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>157</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:458px; height:610px" src="images/img170.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE CITIZEN SHAKES HANDS.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>158</span> </p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>CITIZEN</p> +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN’S</p> +<p style="margin-left: 4em;">RECEPTION</p> +<p style="margin-left: 8em;">To</p> +<p style="margin-left: 10em;">CITOYEN MAX O’RELL.</p> + +<p style="margin-right: 50%;">P.S.—“Demons” have checkmated +“Psychos”! Invitations +canceled! “Hub” Boycotts Sunday +Receptions! Boston half +century behind New York and +Europe’s Elite Society. (Ancient +Athens still Ancient!) Regrets +and Regards! Good-by, Tremont! +(The Proprietors not to +blame.)</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Vide</i> some of his “Apothegmic Works”! (Reviewed in Pulitzer’s +New York <i>World</i> and Cosmos Press!)</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>John Bull et Son Ile! Les Filles de John Bull! Les Chers +Voisins! L’Ami Macdonald! John Bull, Junior! Jonathan et +Son Continent! L’Eloquence Française! etc.</p> + +<p class="center1">YOU ARE INVITED TO MEET</p> + +<p class="center1">this distinguished French Traveler, Author, and Lecturer (From +the land of Lafayette, Rochambeau, and De Grasse),</p> + +<p class="center1">AT MY SIXTH “POP-CORN RECEPTION”!</p> + +<p class="center1"><span class="sc">Sunday, January Twenty-Sixth</span>, From 2 to 7 <span class="scs">P. M.</span> +(Tremont House!)</p> + +<p class="center1"><i>Private Banquet Hall!</i>  <i>Fifty “Notables”!</i></p> + +<p>Talent from Dozen Operas and Theaters! All Stars! No +Airs! No “Wall Flowers”! No Amens! No Selahs! But +“MUTUAL ADMIRATION CLUB OF GOOD FELLOWSHIP”! +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>159</span> +No Boredom! No Formality! (Dress as you like!) +No Programme! (Pianos! Cellos! Guitars! Mandolins! +Banjos! Violins! Harmonicas! Zithers!) Opera, Theater +and Press Represented!</p> + +<p>Succeeding Receptions: To Steele Mackaye! Nat Goodwin! +Count Zubof (St. Petersburg)! Prima Donna Clementina De +Vere (Italy)! Albany Press Club! (Duly announced printed +invitations!)</p> + +<p class="center1">GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN,</p> +<p class="rt">Tremont House for Winter!</p> + +<p class="noind">Psychic Press thanks for friendly</p> +<p>notices of Sunday Musicales!</p></div> + +<p>It will be seen from the “P. S.” that the reception +could not be held at the Tremont House; but the +plucky Citizen did not allow himself to be beaten, and +the reception took place at the house of a friend.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In the evening I lectured in the Boston Theater to +a beautiful audience.</p> + +<p>If there is a horrible fascination about “the man +who won’t smile,” as I mentioned in a foregoing +chapter, there is a lovely fascination about the lady +who seems to enjoy your lecture thoroughly. You +watch the effects of your remarks on her face, and her +bright, intellectual eyes keep you in good form the +whole evening; in fact, you give the lecture to her. I +perhaps never felt the influence of that face more +powerfully than to-night. I had spoken for a few +minutes, when Madame Modjeska, accompanied by +her husband, arrived and took a seat on the first row +of the orchestra stalls. To be able to entertain the +great <i>tragédienne</i> became my sole aim, and as soon as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>160</span> +I perceived that I was successful, I felt perfectly proud +and happy. I lectured to her the whole evening. +Her laughter and applause encouraged me, her beautiful, +intellectual face cheered me up, and I was able to +introduce a little more acting and by-play than usual.</p> + +<p>I had had the pleasure of making Madame Modjeska’s +acquaintance two years ago, during my first +visit to the United States, and it was a great pleasure +to be able to renew it after the lecture.</p> + +<p>I will go and see her <i>Ophelia</i> to-morrow night.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>January</i> 27.</p> + +<p>Spent the whole morning wandering about Boston, +and visiting a few interesting places. Beacon Street, +the public gardens, and Commonwealth Avenue are +among the finest thoroughfares I know. What enormous +wealth is contained in those miles of huge +mansions!</p> + +<p>The more I see Boston, the more it strikes me as a +great English city. It has a character of its own, as +no other American city has, excepting perhaps Washington +and Philadelphia. The solidity of the buildings, +the parks, the quietness of the women’s dresses, +the absence of the twang in most of the voices, all +remind you of England.</p> + +<p>After lunch I called on Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. +The “Autocrat of the Breakfast Table” is now over +eighty, but he is as young as ever, and will die with a +kind smile on his face and a merry twinkle in his eyes. +I know no more delightful talker than this delightful +man. You may say of him that every time he talks +he says something. When he asked me what it was I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>161</span> +had found most interesting in America, I wished I +could have answered: “Why, my dear doctor, to see +and to hear such a man as you, to be sure!” But the +doctor is so simple, so unaffected, that I felt an answer +of that kind, though perfectly sincere, would not have +been one calculated to please him. The articles +“Over the Tea Cups,” which he writes every month +for the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, and which will soon appear +in book form, are as bright, witty, humorous, and philosophic +as anything he ever wrote. Long may he +live to delight his native land!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In the evening I went to see Mr. Edwin Booth and +Madame Modjeska in “Hamlet.” By far the two +greatest tragedians of America in Shakespeare’s +greatest tragedy. I expected great things. I had +seen Mounet-Sully in the part, Henry Irving, Wilson +Barrett; and I remembered the witty French <i>quatrain</i>, +published on the occasion of Mounet-Sully attempting +the part:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Sans Fechter ni Rivière</p> +<p>Le cas était hasardeux;</p> +<p>Jamais, non jamais sur terre,</p> +<p>On n’a fait d’Hamlet sans eux.</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I had seen Mr. Booth three times before. As +<i>Brutus</i>, I thought he was excellent. As <i>Richelieu</i> he +was certainly magnificent; as <i>Iago</i> ideally superb.</p> + +<p>His <i>Hamlet</i> was a revelation to me. After seeing +the raving <i>Hamlet</i> of Mounet-Sully, the somber <i>Hamlet</i> +of Irving, and the dreamy <i>Hamlet</i> of Wilson Barrett, I +saw this evening <i>Hamlet</i> the philosopher, the rhetorician. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>162</span> </p> + +<p>Mr. Booth is too old to play <i>Hamlet</i> as he does, +that is to say, without any attempt at making-up. He +puts on a black wig, and that is all, absolutely all. It +is, however, a most remarkable, subtle piece of acting +in his hands.</p> + +<p>Madame Modjeska was beautiful as <i>Ophelia</i>. No +<i>tragédienne</i> that I have ever seen weeps more naturally. +In all sad situations she makes the chords of +one’s heart vibrate, and that without any trick or artifice, +but simply by the modulations of her singularly +sympathetic voice and such like natural means.</p> + +<p>It is very seldom that you can see in America, outside +of New York, more than one very good actor or +actress playing together. So you may imagine the +success of such a combination as Booth-Modjeska.</p> + +<p>Every night the theater is packed from floor to ceiling, +although the prices of admission are doubled.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:130px; height:91px" src="images/img175.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption"></p></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>163</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">St. Johnsbury—The State of Maine—New England +Self-Control—Cold Climates and Frigid +Audiences—Where is the Audience?—All +Drunk!—A Reminiscence of a Scotch Audience +on a Saturday Night.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>St. Johnsbury (Vt.)</i>, <i>January</i> 28.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">St. Johnsbury</span> is a charming little town perched +on the top of a mountain, from which a lovely +scene of hills and woods can be enjoyed. The whole +country is covered with snow, and as I looked at it in +the evening by the electric light, the effect was very +beautiful. The town has only six thousand inhabitants, +eleven hundred of whom came to hear my lecture +to-night. Which is the European town of six +thousand inhabitants that would supply an audience +of eleven hundred people to a literary <i>causerie</i>?</p> + +<p>St. Johnsbury has a dozen churches, a public library +of 15,000 volumes, with a reading-room beautifully +fitted with desks and perfectly adapted for study. A +museum, a Young Men’s Christian Association, with +gymnasium, school-rooms, reading-rooms, play-rooms, +and a lecture hall capable of accommodating over +1000 people. Who, after that, would consider himself +an exile if he had to live in St. Johnsbury? There is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>164</span> +more intellectual life in it than in any French town +outside of Paris and about a dozen more large cities.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Portsea, January</i> 30.</p> + +<p>I have been in the State of Maine for two days; a +strange State to be in, let me tell you.</p> + +<p>After addressing the Connecticut audience in Meriden +a few days ago, I thought I had had the experience +of the most frigid audience that could possibly +be gathered together. Last Tuesday night, at Portsea, +I was undeceived.</p> + +<p>Half-way between St. Johnsbury and Portsea, the +day before yesterday, I was told that the train would +be very late, and would not arrive at Portsea before +half-past eight. My lecture in that city was to begin +at eight. The only thing to do was to send a telegram +to the manager of the lecture. At the next station I +sent the following:</p> + +<p>“Train late. If possible, keep audience waiting +half an hour. Will dress on board.”</p> + +<p>I dressed in the state-room of the parlor-car. At +forty minutes past eight the train arrived at Portsea. +I immediately jumped into a cab and drove to the +City Hall, where the lecture was to take place. The +building was lighted, but, as I ascended the stairs, +there was not a person to be seen or a sound to be +heard. “The place is deserted,” I thought; “and if +anybody came to hear me, they have all gone.”</p> + +<p>I opened the door of the private room behind the +platform and there found the manager, who expressed +his delight to see me. I excused myself, and was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>165</span> +going to enter into a +detailed explanation +when he interrupted:</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 250px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:198px; height:500px" src="images/img178.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">I TIP-TOED OUT.</td></tr></table> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right.”</p> + +<p>“What do you +mean?” said I. “Have +you got an audience +there, on the other side +of that door?”</p> + +<p>“Why, we have got +fifteen hundred people.”</p> + +<p>“There?” said I, +pointing to the door.</p> + +<p>“Yes, on the other +side of that door.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t hear a +sound.”</p> + +<p>“I guess you can’t. +But that’s all right; +they are there.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose,” I said, +“I had better apologize +to them for keeping +them waiting three-quarters +of an hour.”</p> + +<p>“Well, just as you +please,” said the manager. +“I wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“No; I guess they +would have waited another half-hour without showing +any sign of impatience.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>166</span> </p> + +<p>I opened the door trembling. My desk was far, far +away. My manager was right; the audience was there. +I stepped on the platform, shut the door after me, +making as little noise as I could, and, walking on tiptoe +so as to wake up as few people as possible, proceeded +toward the table. Not one person applauded. A few +people looked up unconcernedly, as if to say, “I guess +that’s the show.” The rest seemed asleep, although +their eyes were open.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the desk, I faced the audience, and ventured +a little joke, which fell dead flat.</p> + +<p>I began to realize the treat that was in store for me +that night.</p> + +<p>I tried another little joke, and—missed fire.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, old fellow,” I said to myself; “it’s +two hundred and fifty dollars; go ahead.”</p> + +<p>And I went on.</p> + +<p>I saw a few people smile, but not one laughed, although +I noticed that a good many were holding their +handkerchiefs over their mouths, probably to stifle any +attempt at such a frivolous thing as laughter. The +eyes of the audience, which I always watch, showed +signs of interest, and nobody left the hall until the +conclusion of the lecture. When I had finished, I +made a small bow, when certainly fifty people +applauded. I imagined they were glad it was all over.</p> + +<p>“Well,” I said to the manager, when I had returned +to the little back room, “I suppose we must call this a +failure.”</p> + +<p>“A failure!” said he; “it’s nothing of the sort. Why, +I have never seen them so enthusiastic in my life!”</p> + +<p>I went to the hotel, and tried to forget the audience +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>167</span> +I had just had by recalling to my mind a joyous evening +in Scotland. This happened about a year ago, in +a mining town in the neighborhood of Glasgow, where +I had been invited to lecture, on a Saturday night, to +the members of a popular—very popular—Institute.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:518px; height:430px" src="images/img180.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">I AM ESCORTED TO THE HALL.</p></div> + +<p>I arrived at the station from Glasgow at half-past +seven, and there found the secretary and the treasurer of +the Institute, who had been kind enough to come and +meet me. We shook hands. They gave me a few +words of welcome. I thought my friends looked a +little bit queer. They proposed that we should walk to +the lecture hall. The secretary took my right arm, the +treasurer took my left, and, abreast, the three of us +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>168</span> +proceeded toward the hall. They did not take me to +that place; <i>I</i> took them, holding them fast all the way—the +treasurer especially.</p> + +<p>We arrived in good time, although we stopped once +for light refreshment. At eight punctually, I entered +the hall, preceded by the president, and followed by +the members of the committee. The president introduced +me in a most queer, incoherent speech. I rose, +and was vociferously cheered. When silence was restored, +I said in a calm, almost solemn manner: “Ladies +and Gentlemen.” This was the signal for more cheering +and whistling. In France whistling means hissing, +and I began to feel uneasy, but soon I bore in mind +that whistling, in the North of Great Britain, was used +to express the highest pitch of enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>So I went on.</p> + +<p>The audience laughed at everything I said, and even +before I said it. I had never addressed such keen +people. They seemed so anxious to laugh and cheer +in the right place that they laughed and cheered all +the time—so much so that in an hour and twenty +minutes, I had only got through half my lecture, which +I had to bring to a speedy conclusion.</p> + +<p>The president rose and proposed a vote of thanks in +another most queer speech, which was a new occasion +for cheering.</p> + +<p>When we had retired in the committee room, I said +to the secretary: “What’s the matter with the president? +Is he quite right?” I added, touching my +forehead.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said the secretary, striking his chest as +proudly as possible, “he is drunk—and so am I.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>169</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:412px; height:610px" src="images/img182.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“HE’S DRUNK, AND SO AM I.”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>170</span> </p> + +<p>The explanation of the whole strange evening +dawned upon me. Of course they were drunk, and +so was the audience.</p> + +<p>That night, I believe I was the only sober person on +the premises.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Yesterday, I had an interesting chat with a native of +the State of Maine on the subject of my lecture at +Portsea.</p> + +<p>“You are perfectly wrong,” he said to me, “in supposing +that your lecture was not appreciated. I was +present, and I can assure you that the attentive silence +in which they listened to you from beginning to end is +the proof that they appreciated you. You would also +be wrong in supposing that they do not appreciate +humor. On the contrary, they are very keen of it, +and I believe that the old New Englander was the +father of American humor, through the solemn +manner in which he told comic things, and the +comic manner in which he told the most serious +ones. Yes, they are keen of humor, and their apparent +want of appreciation is only due to reserve, +to self-control.”</p> + +<p>And, as an illustration of it, my friend told me the +following anecdote which, I have no doubt, a good +many Americans have heard before:</p> + +<p>Mark Twain had lectured to a Maine audience without +raising a single laugh in his listeners, when, at the +close, he was thanked by a gentleman who came to +him in the green-room, to tell him how hugely every +one had enjoyed his amusing stories. When the lecturer +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>171</span> +expressed his surprise at this announcement, +as the audience had not laughed, the gentleman +added:</p> + +<p>“Yes, we never were so amused in our lives, and if +you had gone on five minutes more, upon my word +I don’t think we could have held out any longer.”</p> + +<p>Such is New England self-control.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:110px; height:124px" src="images/img184.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>172</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> + +<p class="tt">A Lovely Ride to Canada—Quebec, a Corner +of Old France Strayed up and Lost in the +Snow—The French Canadians—The Parties +in Canada—Will the Canadians Become Yankees?</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Montreal</i>, <i>February</i> 1.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">The</span> ride from the State of Maine to Montreal is +very picturesque, even in the winter. It offers +you four or five hours of Alpine scenery through the +American Switzerland. The White Mountains, commanded +by Mount Washington, are, for a distance of +about forty miles, as wild and imposing as anything +the real Switzerland can supply the tourist. Gorges, +precipices, torrents, nothing is wanting.</p> + +<p>Nearly the whole time we journeyed across pine +forests, coming, now and then, across saw mills, and +little towns looking like bee-hives of activity. Now +there was an opening, and frozen rivers, covered with +snow, formed, with the fields, a huge uniform mass of +dazzling whiteness. The effect, under a pure blue sky +and in a perfectly clear atmosphere, was very beautiful. +Now the country became hilly again. On the slopes, +right down to the bottom of the valley, we saw Berlin +Falls, bathing its feet in the river. The yellow houses +with their red roofs and gables, rest the eyes from that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>173</span> +long stretch of blue and white. How beautiful this +town and its surroundings must be in the fall, when +Dame Nature in America puts on her cloak of gold +and scarlet! All the country on the line we traveled +is engaged in the lumber trade.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 280px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:226px; height:310px" src="images/img186.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE AMIABLE CONDUCTOR.</td></tr></table> + +<p>For once I had an amiable conductor in the parlor +car; even more than +amiable—quite friendly +and familiar. He put +his arms on my shoulders +and got quite patronizing. +I did not +mind that a bit. I hate +anonymous landscapes, +and he explained and +named everything to +me. My innocence of +American things in +general touched him. +He was a great treat +after those “ill-licked +bears” that you so +often come across in +the American cars. He went further than that: he +kindly recommended me to the Canadian custom-house +officers, when we arrived at the frontier, and +the examination of my trunk and valise did not last +half a minute.</p> + +<p>Altogether, the long journey passed rapidly and +agreeably. We were only two people in the parlor +car, and my traveling companion proved a very pleasant +man. First, I did not care for the look of him. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>174</span> +He had a new silk hat on, a multicolored satin cravat +with a huge diamond pin fixed in it; a waistcoat covered +with silk embroidery work, green, blue, and pink; +a coat with silk facings, patent-leather boots. Altogether, +he was rather dressed for a garden party (in +more than doubtful taste) than for a fifteen hours’ railway +journey. But in America the cars are so luxurious +and kept so warm that traveling dresses are not known +in the country. Ulsters, cloaks, rugs, garments made +of tweed and rough materials, all these things are unnecessary +and therefore unknown. I soon found out, +however, that this quaintly got-up man was interesting +to speak to. He knew every bit of the country we +passed, and, being easily drawn out, he poured into my +ears information that was as rapid as it was valuable. He +was well read and had been to Europe several times. +He spoke of France with great enthusiasm, which enrolled +my sympathy, and he had enjoyed my lecture, +which, you may imagine, secured for his intelligence +and his good taste my boundless admiration. When +we arrived at Montreal, we were a pair of friends.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I begin my Canadian tour here on Monday and then +shall go West. I was in Quebec two years ago; but +the dear old place is not on my list this time. No +words could express my regret. I shall never forget +my feelings on landing under the great cliff on which +stands the citadel, and on driving, bumped along in a +sleigh over the half-thawed snow, in the street that +lies under the fortress, and on through the other quaint +winding steep streets, and again under the majestic +archways to the upper town, where I was set down at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>175</span> +the door of the Florence, a quiet, delightful little hotel +that the visitor to Quebec should not fail to stop at, if +he like home comforts and care to enjoy magnificent +scenery from his window. It seemed as though I was +in France, in my dear old Brittany. It looked like St. +Malo strayed up here and lost in the snow. The illusion +became complete when I saw the gray houses, +heard the people talk with the Breton intonation, and +saw over the shops Langlois, Maillard, Clouet, and all +the names familiar to my childhood. But why say +“illusion”? It was a fact: I was in France. These +folks have given their faith to England, but, as the +Canadian poet says, they have kept their hearts for +France. Not only their hearts, but their manners and +their language. Oh, there was such pleasure in it all! +The lovely weather, the beautiful scenery, the kind welcome +given to me, the delight of seeing these children +of Old France, more than three thousand miles from +home, happy and thriving—a feast for the eyes, a feast +for the heart. And the drive to Montmorency Falls +in the sleigh, gliding smoothly along on the hard snow! +And the sleighs laden with wood for the Quebec folks, +the carmen stimulating their horses with a <i>hue là</i> or <i>hue +donc</i>! And the return to the Florence, where a good +dinner served in a private room awaited us! And that +polite, quiet, attentive French girl who waited on us, +the antipodes of the young Yankee lady who makes +you sorry that breakfasting and dining are necessary, +in some American hotels, and whose waiting is like +taking sand and vinegar with your food!</p> + +<p>The mere spanking along through the cold, brisk +air, when you are well muffled in furs is exhilarating, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>176</span> +especially when the sun is shining in a cloudless blue +sky. The beautiful scenery at Quebec was, besides, a +feast for eyes tired with the monotonous flatness of +America. The old city is on a perfect mountain, and +as we came bumping down its side in our sleigh over +the roads which were there in a perfect state of sherbet, +there was a lovely picture spread out in front of +us. In the distance the bluest mountains I ever saw +(to paint them one must use pure cobalt); away to the +right the frozen St. Lawrence and the Isle of Orléans, +all snow-covered, of course, but yet distinguishable +from the farm lands of Jacques Bonhomme, whose +cosy, clean cottages we soon began to pass. The long, +ribbon-like strips of farm were indicated by the tops of +the fences peeping through the snow, and told us of +French thrift and prosperity.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:339px; height:320px" src="images/img189.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“THAT QUIET, ATTENTIVE FRENCH GIRL.”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>177</span> </p> + +<p>Yes, it was all delightful. When I left Quebec I felt +as much regret as I do every time that I leave my little +native town.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I have been told that the works of Voltaire are prohibited +in Quebec, not so much because they are irreligious +as because they were written by a man who, +after the loss of Quebec to the French Crown, exclaimed: +“Let us not be concerned about the loss of +a few acres of snow.” The memory of Voltaire is +execrated, and for having made a flattering reference +to him on the platform in Montreal two years ago, I +was near being “boycotted” by the French population.</p> + +<p>The French Canadians take very little interest in +politics—I mean in outside politics. They are steady, +industrious, saving, peaceful, and so long as the English +leave them alone, in the safe enjoyment of their +belongings, they will not give them cause for any +anxiety. Among the French Canadians there is no +desire for annexation to the United States. Indeed, +during the War of Independence, Canada was saved to +the English Crown by the French Canadians, not because +the latter loved the English, but because they +hated the Yankees. When Lafayette took it for +granted that the French Canadians would rally round +his flag, he made a great mistake; they would have, if +compelled to fight, used their bullets against the +Americans. If they had their own way, the French in +Canada would set up a little country of their own +under the rule of the Catholic Church, a little corner +of France two hundred years old. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>178</span> </p> + +<p>The education of the lower classes is at a very low +stage; thirty per cent. of the children of school age in +Quebec do not attend school. The English dare not +introduce gratuitous and compulsory education. They +have an understanding with the Catholic Church, +which insists upon exercising entire control over public +education. The Quebec schools are little more than +branches of the confessional box. The English shut +their eyes, for part of the understanding with the +Church is that the latter will keep loyalty to the English +Crown alive among her submissive flock.</p> + +<p>The tyranny exercised by the Catholic Church may +easily be imagined from the following newspaper extract:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>A well-to-do butcher of Montreal attended the Catholic Church +at Ile Perrault last Sunday. He was suffering at the time with +acute cramps, and when that part of the service arrived during +which the congregation kneel, he found himself unable to do more +than assume a reclining devotional position, with one knee on the +floor. His action was noticed, and the church-warden, in concert +with others, had him brought before the court charged with an act +of irreverence, and he was fined $8 and costs.</p></div> + +<p>Such a judgment does not only expose the tyranny +of the Catholic Church, but the complicity of the +English, who uphold Romanism in the Province of +Quebec as they uphold Buddhism in India, so as not +to endanger the security of their possessions.</p> + +<p>The French Canadians are multiplying so rapidly +that in a very few years the Province of Quebec will +be as French as the town of Quebec itself. Every day +they push their advance from east to west. They +generally marry very young. When a lad is seen in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>179</span> +the company of a girl, he is asked by the priest if he is +courting that girl. In which case he is bidden to go +straightway to the altar, and these young couples rear +families of twelve and fifteen children, none of whom +leave the country. The English have to make room +for them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:359px; height:430px" src="images/img192.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AN INTERVIEW WITH THE PRIEST.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>180</span></p> + +<p>The average attendance in Catholic churches on +Sundays in Montreal is 111,483; in the sixty churches +that belong to the different Protestant denominations, +the average attendance is 34,428. The former number +has been steadily increasing, the latter steadily decreasing.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>What is the future reserved to French Canada, and +indeed to the whole Dominion?</p> + +<p>There are only two political parties, Liberals and +Conservatives, but I find the population divided into +four camps: Those in favor of Canada, an independent +nation; those in favor of the political union of +Canada and the United States; those in favor of Canada +going into Imperial Federation, and those in favor +of Canada remaining an English colony, or in other +words, in favor of the actual state of things.</p> + +<p>Of course the French Canadians are dead against +going into Imperial Federation, which would simply +crush them, and Canadian “society” is in favor of remaining +English. The other Canadians seem pretty +equally divided.</p> + +<p>It must be said that the annexation idea has been +making rapid progress of late years, among prominent +men as well as among the people. The Americans +will never fire one shot to have the idea realized. If +ever the union becomes an accomplished fact, it will become +so with the assent of all parties. The task will +be made easy through Canada and the United States +having the same legislature. The local and provincial +governments are the same in the Canadian towns and +provinces as they are in the American towns and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>181</span> +States—a House of Representatives, a Senate, and a +Governor, with this difference, this great difference, +to the present advantage of Canada: whereas every +four years the Americans elect a new master, who appoints +a ministry responsible to himself alone, the +Canadians have a ministry responsible to their parliament, +that is, to themselves. The representation of +the American people at Washington is democratic, but +the government is autocratic. In Canada, both legislature +and executive are democratic, as in England, +that greatest and truest of all democracies.</p> + +<p>The change in Canada would have to be made on +the American plan.</p> + +<p>With the exception of Quebec and parts of Montreal, +Canada is built like America; the country has +the same aspect, the currency is the same. Suppress +the Governor-General in Ottawa, who is there to remind +Canada that she is a dependency of the English +Crown, strew the country with more cuspidores, and +you have part of Jonathan’s big farm.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:27px" src="images/img194.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>182</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Montreal—The City—Mount Royal—Canadian +Sports—Ottawa—The Government—Rideau +Hall.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Montreal</i>, <i>February</i> 2.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Montreal</span> is a large and well-built city, containing +many buildings of importance, mostly +churches, of which about thirty are Roman Catholic, +and over sixty are devoted to Protestant worship, in +all its branches and variations, from the Anglican +church to the Salvation Army.</p> + +<p>I arrived at a station situated on a level with the +St. Lawrence River. From it, we mounted in an omnibus +up, up, up, through narrow streets full of shops +with Breton or Norman names over them, as in Quebec; +on through broader ones, where the shops grew +larger and the names became more frequently English; +on, on, till I thought Montreal had no end, and, at last +alighted on a great square, and found myself at the +door of the Windsor Hotel, an enormous and fine +construction, which has proved the most comfortable, +and, in every respect the best hotel I have yet stopped +at on the great American continent. It is about a +quarter of a mile from my bedroom to the dining-hall, +which could, I believe, accommodate nearly a thousand +guests.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 300px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:246px; height:240px" src="images/img196.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE OLD GENTLEMAN AND THE +TOBOGGAN SLIDE.</td></tr></table> + +<p>My first visit was to an afternoon “At Home,” given +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>183</span> +by the St. George’s Club, who have a club-house high +up on Mount Royal. It was a ladies’ day, and there was +music, dancing, etc. We went in a sleigh up the very +steep hill, much to my astonishment. I should have +thought the thing practically impossible. On our way +we passed a toboggan slide down the side of Mount +Royal. It took my breath away to think of coming +down it at the rate +of over a mile a minute. +The view from +the club-house was +splendid, taking in a +great sweep of snow-covered +country, the +city and the frozen +St. Lawrence. There +are daily races on the +river, and last year +they ran tram-cars +on it.</p> + +<p>It was odd to hear +the phrase, “after the flood.” When I came to +inquire into it, I learned that when the St. Lawrence +ice breaks up, the lower city is flooded, and this is +yearly spoken of as “the flood.”</p> + +<p>I drove back from the club with my manager and +two English gentlemen, who are here on a visit. As +we passed the toboggan slide, my manager told me of +an old gentleman over sixty, who delights in those +breathless passages down the side of Mount Royal. +One may see him out there “at it,” as early as ten in +the morning. Plenty of people, however, try one ride +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>184</span> +and never ask for another. One gentleman my manager +told me of, after having tried it, expressed pretty +well the feelings of many others. He said, “I wouldn’t +do it again for two thousand dollars, but I wouldn’t +have missed it for three.” I asked one of the two Englishmen +who accompanied us, whether he had had a +try. He was a +quiet, solemn, +middle-aged Englishman. +“Well,” +he said, “yes, I +have. It had to +be done, and I +did it.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 320px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:267px; height:350px" src="images/img197.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">A SNOWSHOER.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Last night I was +most interested in +watching the members +of the Snowshoe +Club start +from the Windsor, +on a kind of a +picnic over the +country. Their +costumes were +very picturesque; +a short tunic of woolen material fastened round the +waist by a belt, a sort of woolen nightcap, with tassel +falling on the shoulder, thick woolen stockings, and +knickerbockers.</p> + +<p>In Russia and the northern parts of the United States, +the people say: “It’s too cold to go out.” In Canada, +they say: “It’s very cold, let’s all go out.” Only rain +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>185</span> +keeps them indoors. In the coldest weather, with a temperature +of many degrees below zero, you have great +difficulty in finding a closed carriage. All, or nearly +all, are open sleighs. The driver wraps you up in +furs, and as you go, gliding on the snow, your face is +whipped by the cold air, you feel glowing all over +with warmth, and altogether the sensation is delightful.</p> + +<p>This morning, Joseph Howarth, the talented American +actor, breakfasted with me and a few friends. +Last night, I went to see him play in Steele Mackaye’s +“Paul Kauvar.” Canada has no actors worth mentioning, +and the people here depend on American artists +for all their entertainments. It is wonderful how the +feeling of independence engenders and develops the +activity of the mind in a country. Art and literature +want a home of their own, and do not flourish in +other people’s houses. Canada has produced nothing +in literature: the only two poets she can boast are +French, Louis Fréchette and Octave Crémazie. It is +not because Canada has no time for brain productions. +America is just as busy as she is, felling forests and +reclaiming the land; but free America, only a hundred +years old as a nation, possesses already a list of historians, +novelists, poets, and essayists, that would do +honor to any nation in the world.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>February</i> 4.</p> + +<p>I had capital houses in the Queen’s Hall last night +and to-night.</p> + +<p>The Canadian audiences are more demonstrative +than the American ones, and certainly quite as keen +and appreciative. When you arrive on the platform +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>186</span> +they are glad to see you, and they let you know it; a +fact which in America, in New England especially, +you have to find out for yourself.</p> + +<p>Montreal possesses a very wealthy and fashionable +community, and what strikes me most, coming as I do +from the United States, is the stylish simplicity of the +women. I am told that Canadian women in their +tastes and ways have always been far more English +than American, and that the fashions have grown +more and more simple since Princess Louise gave the +example of always dressing quietly when occupying +Rideau Hall in Ottawa.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Ottawa</i>, <i>February</i> 5.</p> + +<p>One of the finest sights I have yet seen in this +country was from the bridge on my way from the +station to the Russell this morning. On the right the +waterfalls, on the left, on the top of a high and almost +perpendicular rock, the Houses of Parliament, a grand +pile of buildings in gray stone, standing out clear +against a cloudless, intense blue sky. The Russell is +one of those huge babylonian hotels so common on +the American continent, where unfortunately the +cookery is not on a level with the architectural pretensions; +but most of the leading Canadian politicians are +boarding here while Parliament is sitting, and I am +interested to see them.</p> + +<p>After visiting the beautiful library and other parts +of the government buildings, I had the good luck to +hear, in the House of Representatives, a debate between +Mr. Chapleau, a minister and one of the leaders +of the Conservatives now in office, and Mr. Laurier, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>187</span> +one of the chiefs of the Opposition. Both gentlemen +are French. It was a fight between a tribune and a +scholar; between a short, thickset, long-maned lion, +and a tall, slender, delicate fox.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:473px; height:360px" src="images/img200.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“THE RADIANT, LOVELY CANADIENNE.”</p></div> + +<p>After lunch, I went to Rideau Hall, the residence of +the Governor-General, Lord Stanley of Preston. The +executive mansion stands in a pretty park well wooded +with firs, a mile out of the town. His Excellency was +out, but his aid-de-camp, to whom I had a letter of +introduction, most kindly showed me over the place. +Nothing can be more simple and unpretentious than +the interior of Rideau Hall. It is furnished like any +comfortable little provincial hotel patronized by the +gentry of the neighborhood. The panels of the drawing-room +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>188</span> +were painted by Princess Louise, when she +occupied the house with the Marquis of Lorne some +eight or ten years ago. This is the only touch of +luxury about the place. In the time of Lord Dufferin, +a ball-room and a tennis court were added to the building, +and these are among the many souvenirs of his +popular rule. As a diplomatist, as a viceroy, and as +an ambassador, history will one day record that this +noble son of Erin never made a mistake.</p> + +<p>In the evening, I lectured in the Opera House to a +large audience.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Kingston</i>, <i>February</i> 6.</p> + +<p>This morning, at the Russell, I was called at the +telephone. It was His Excellency, who was asking me +to lunch at Rideau Hall. I felt sorry to be obliged to +leave Ottawa, and thus forego so tempting an invitation.</p> + +<p>Kingston is a pretty little town on the border of +Lake Ontario, possessing a university, a penitentiary, +and a lunatic asylum, in neither of which I made my +appearance to-night. But as soon as I had started +speaking on the platform of the Town Hall, I began to +think the doors of the lunatic asylum had been carelessly +left open that night, for close under the window +behind the platform, there began a noise which was +like Bedlam let loose. Bedlam with trumpets and +other instruments of torture. It was impossible to go +on with the lecture, so I stopped. On inquiry, the +unearthly din was found to proceed from a detachment +of the Salvation Army outside the building. After +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>189</span> +some parleying, they consented to move on and storm +some other citadel.</p> + +<p>But it was a stormy evening, and peace was not yet.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:379px; height:470px" src="images/img202.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A SALVATIONIST.</p></div> + +<p>As soon as I had fairly restarted, a person in the +audience began to show signs of disapproval, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>190</span> +twice or thrice he gave vent to his disapproval rather +loudly.</p> + +<p>I was not surprised to learn, at the close of the evening, +that this individual had come in with a free pass. +He had been admitted on the strength of his being announced +to give a “show” of some sort himself a week +later in the hall.</p> + +<p>If a man is inattentive or creates a disturbance at +any performance, you may take it for granted that his +ticket was given to him. He never paid for it.</p> + +<p>To-morrow I go to Toronto, where I am to give two +lectures. I had not time to see that city properly on +my last visit to Canada, and all my friends prophesy +that I shall have a good time.</p> + +<p>So does the advance booking, I understand.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:111px" src="images/img203.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>191</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Toronto—The City—The Ladies—The Sports—Strange +Contrasts—The Canadian Schools.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Toronto</i>, <i>February</i> 9.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Have</span> passed three very pleasant days in this city, +and had two beautiful audiences in the Pavilion.</p> + +<p>Toronto is a thoroughly American city in appearance, +but only in appearance, for I find the inhabitants +British in heart, in tastes, and habits. When I say +that it is an American city, I mean to say that Toronto +is a large area, covered with blocks of parallelograms +and dirty streets, overspread with tangles of telegraph +and telephone wires. The hotels are perfectly American +in every respect.</p> + +<p>The suburbs are exceedingly pretty. Here once +more are fine villas standing in large gardens, a sight +rarely seen near an American city. It reminds me of +England. I admire many buildings, the University<a name="FnAnchor_2" id="FnAnchor_2" href="#Footnote_2"><span class="sp">2</span></a> +especially.</p> + +<p>English-looking, too, are the rosy faces of the Toronto +ladies whom I passed in my drive. How charming +they are with the peach-like bloom that their outdoor +exercise gives them!</p> + +<p>I should like to be able to describe, as it deserves, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>192</span> +the sight of these Canadian women in their sleighs, as +the horses fly along with bells merrily jingling, the +coachman in his curly black dogskin and huge busby +on his head. Furs float over the back of the sleigh, +and, in it, muffled up to the chin in sumptuous skins +and also capped in furs, sits the radiant, lovely Canadienne, +the milk and roses of her complexion enhanced +by the proximity of the dark furs. As they skim past +over the white snow, under a glorious sunlit blue sky, +I can call to mind no prettier sight, no more beautiful +picture, to be seen on this huge continent, so far as I +have got yet.</p> + +<p>One cannot help being struck, on coming here from +the United States, at the number of lady pedestrians +in the streets. They are not merely shopping, I am +assured, nor going straight from one point to another +of the town, but taking their constitutional walks in +true English fashion. My impresario took me in the +afternoon to a club for ladies and gentlemen, and +there I had the, to me, novel sight of a game of hockey. +On a large frozen pond there was a party of young +people engaged in this graceful and invigorating game, +and not far off was a group of little girls and boys imitating +their elders very sensibly and, as it seemed to +me, successfully. The clear, healthy complexion of +the Canadian women is easy to account for, when one +sees how deep-rooted, even after transplantation, is the +good British love of exercise in the open air.</p> + +<p>Last evening I was taken to a ball, and was able to +see more of the Canadian ladies than is possible in +furs, and on further acquaintance I found them as delightful +in manners as in appearance; English in their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>193</span> +coloring and in their simplicity of dress, American in +their natural bearing and in their frankness of speech.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:265px; height:430px" src="images/img206.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A HOCKEY PLAYER.</p></div> + +<p>Churches, churches, everywhere. In my drive this +afternoon, I counted twenty-eight in a quarter of an +hour. They are of all denominations, Catholic, Anglican, +Presbyterian, Baptist, Methodist, etc., etc. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>194</span> +Canadians must be still more religious—I mean still +more church-going—than the English.</p> + +<p>From seven in the evening on Saturday, all the taverns +are closed, and remain closed throughout Sunday. +In England the Bible has to compete with the gin +bottle, but here the Bible has all its own way on Sundays. +Neither tram-car, omnibus, cab, nor hired carriage +of any description is to be seen abroad. Scotland +itself is outdone completely; the land of John Knox +has to take a back seat.</p> + +<p>The walls of this city of churches and chapels are at +the present moment covered with huge coarse posters +announcing in loud colors the arrival of a company of +performing women. Of these posters, one represents +Cleopatra in a bark drawn through the water by +nude female slaves. Another shows a cavalcade of +women dressed in little more than a fig-leaf. Yet another +represents the booking-office of the theater +stormed by a crowd of <i>blasé</i>-looking, single eye-glassed +old <i>beaux</i>, grinning with pleasure in anticipation of +the show within. Another poster displays the charms +of the proprietress of the undertaking. You must +not, however, imagine any harm of the performers +whose attractions are so liberally placarded. They +are taken to their cars in the depot immediately +after the performance and locked up; there is an +announcement to that effect. These placards are +merely eye-ticklers. But this mixture of churches, +strict sabbatarianism, and posters of this kind, is +part of the eternal history of the Anglo-Saxon race—violent +contrast.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>195</span> </p> + +<p>A school inspector has kindly shown me several +schools in the town.</p> + +<p>The children of rich and poor alike are educated +together in the public schools, from which they get +promoted to the high schools. All these schools are +free. Boys and girls sit on the same benches and receive +the same education, as in the United States. +This enables the women in the New World to compete +with men for all the posts that we Europeans +consider the monopoly of man; it also enables them +to enjoy all the intellectual pleasures of life. If it +does not prevent them, as it has yet to be proved +that it does, from being good wives and mothers, the +educational system of the New World is much superior +to the European one. It is essentially democratic. +Europe will have to adopt it.</p> + +<p>Society in the Old World will not stand long on its +present basis. There will always be rich and poor, but +every child that is born will require to be given a +chance, and, according as he avails himself of it or +not, will be successful or a failure. But give him a +chance, and the greatest and most real grievance of +mankind in the present day will be removed.</p> + +<p>Every child that is born in America, whether in the +United States or in Canada, has that chance.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /><div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2" href="#FnAnchor_2"><span class="fn">2</span></a> Destroyed by fire three days after I left Toronto.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:24px" src="images/img208.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>196</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">West Canada—Relations between British and +Indians—Return to the United States—Difficulties +in the Way—Encounter with +an American Custom-House Officer.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>In the train from Canada to Chicago</i>, <i>February</i> 15.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Lectured</span> in Bowmanville, Ont., on the 12th, +in Brantford on the 13th, and in Sarnia on the +14th, and am now on my way to Chicago, to go from +there to Wisconsin and Minnesota.</p> + +<p>From Brantford I drove to the Indian Reservation, +a few miles from the town. This visit explained to +me why the English are so successful with their +colonies: they have inborn in them the instinct of +diplomacy and government.</p> + +<p>Whereas the Americans often swindle, starve, and +shoot the Indians, the English keep them in comfort. +England makes paupers and lazy drunkards of them, +and they quietly and gradually disappear. She supplies +them with bread, food, Bibles, and fire-water, +and they become so lazy that they will not even +take the trouble to sow the land of their reservations. +Having a dinner supplied to them, they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>197</span> +give up hunting, riding, and all their native sports, +and become enervated. They go to school and die +of attacks of civilization. England gives them +money to celebrate their national fêtes and rejoicings, +and the good Indians shout at the top of +their voices, <i>God save the Queen!</i> that is—<i>God save +our pensions!</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:508px; height:400px" src="images/img210.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE BRITISH INDIAN.</p></div> + +<p>England, or Great Britain, or again, if you prefer, +Greater Britain, goes further than that. In Brantford, +in the middle of a large square, you can see the statue +of the Indian chief Brant, erected to his memory by +public subscriptions collected among the British +Canadians. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>198</span> </p> + +<p>Here lies the secret of John Bull’s success as a +colonizer. To erect a statue to an Indian chief is a +stroke of genius.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>What has struck me as most American in Canada is, +perhaps, journalism.</p> + +<p>Montreal, Toronto, Ottawa, Quebec possess excellent +newspapers, and every little town can boast one +or two journals.</p> + +<p>The tone of these papers is thoroughly American +in its liveliness—I had almost said, in its +loudness. All are readable and most cleverly +edited. Each paragraph is preceded by a neat +and attractive heading. As in the American papers, +the editorials, or leading articles, are of secondary +importance. The main portion of the publication +is devoted to news, interviews, stories, gossip, jokes, +anecdotes, etc.</p> + +<p>The Montreal papers are read by everybody in the +Province of Quebec, and the Toronto papers in the +Province of Ontario, so that the newspapers published +in small towns are content with giving all the news of +the locality. Each of these has a “society” column. +Nothing is more amusing than to read of the society +doings in these little towns. “Miss Brown is visiting +Miss Smith.” “Miss Smith had tea with Miss Robinson +yesterday.” When Miss Brown, or Miss Smith, +or Miss Robinson has given a party, the names of all +the guests are inserted as well as what they had for +dinner, or for supper, as the case may be. So I take +it for granted that when anybody gives a party, a ball, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>199</span> +a dinner, a reporter receives an invitation to describe +the party in the next issue of the paper.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>At nine o’clock this evening, I left Sarnia, on the +frontier of Canada, to cross the river and pass into the +United States. The train left the town, and, on +arriving on the bank of the River St. Clair, was divided +into two sections which were run on board the ferry-boat +and made the crossing side by side. The passage +across the river occupied about twenty minutes. On +arriving at the other bank, at Port Huron, in the State +of Michigan, the train left the boat in the same fashion +as it had gone on board, the two parts were coupled +together, and the journey on <i>terra firma</i> was smoothly +resumed.</p> + +<p>There is something fascinating about crossing a +river at night, and I had promised myself some agreeable +moments on board the ferry-boat, from which I +should be able to see Port Huron lit up with twinkling +lights. I was also curious to watch the train boarding +the boat. But, alas, I had reckoned without my host. +Instead of star-gazing and <i>rêverie</i>, there was in store +for me a “bad quarter of an hour.”</p> + +<p>No sooner had the train boarded the ferry-boat than +there came to the door of the parlor car a surly-looking, +ill-mannered creature, who roughly bade me come +to the baggage van, in the other section of the train, +and open my trunks for him to inspect.</p> + +<p>As soon as I had complied, he went down on his +knees among my baggage, and it was plain to see that +he meant business. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>200</span> </p> + +<p>The first thing he took out was a suit of clothes, +which he threw on the dirty floor of the van.</p> + +<p>“Have these been worn?” he said.</p> + +<p>“They have,” I replied.</p> + +<p>Then he took out a blue jacket which I used to +cross the Atlantic.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:391px; height:430px" src="images/img213.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“HAVE YOU WORN THIS?”</p></div> + +<p>“Have you worn this?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, for the last two years.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” he said, with a low sardonic grin.</p> + +<p>My trunk was the only one he had to examine, +as I was the only passenger in the parlor car; and I +saw that he meant to annoy me, which, I imagined, he +could do with perfect impunity. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>201</span> </p> + +<p>The best thing, in fact, the only thing to do was to +take the misadventure good-humoredly.</p> + +<p>He took out my linen and examined it in +detail.</p> + +<p>“Have these shirts all been worn?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess they have. But how is it that you, +an official of the government, seem to ignore the law +of your own country? Don’t you know that if all +these articles are for my own private use, they are not +dutiable, whether new or not?”</p> + +<p>The man did not answer.</p> + +<p>He took out more linen, which he put on the floor, +and spreading open a pair of unmentionables, he asked +again:</p> + +<p>“Have you worn this? It looks quite new.”</p> + +<p>I nodded affirmatively.</p> + +<p>He then took out a pair of socks.</p> + +<p>“Have you worn these?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” I said. “Have a sniff at +them.”</p> + +<p>He continued his examination, and was about to +throw my evening suit on the floor. I had up to now +been <i>almost</i> amused at the proceedings, but I felt my +good-humor was going, and the lion began to wag its +tail. I took the man by the arm, and looking at him +sternly, I said:</p> + +<p>“Now, you put this carefully on the top of some +other clothes.”</p> + +<p>He looked at me and complied.</p> + +<p>By this time all the contents of my large trunk were +spread on the floor.</p> + +<p>He got up on his feet and said: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>202</span> </p> + +<p>“Have I looked everywhere?”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 280px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:232px; height:200px" src="images/img215.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE CONTENTS.</td></tr></table> + +<p>“No,” I said, “you haven’t. Do you know how +the famous Regent diamond, worn by the last kings +of France on their +crowns, was smuggled +into French territory?”</p> + +<p>The creature looked +at me with an air of +impudence.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t,” he +replied.</p> + +<p>I explained to him, +and added:</p> + +<p>“You have not +looked <i>there</i>.”</p> + +<p>The lion, that lies dormant at the bottom of the +quietest man, was fairly roused in me, and on the least +provocation, I would have given this man a first-class +hiding.</p> + +<p>He went away, wondering whether I had insulted +him or not, and left me in the van to repack my trunk +as best I could, an operation which, I understand, it +was his duty to perform himself.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:83px" src="images/img215b.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>203</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Chicago (First Visit)—The “Neighborhood” +of Chicago—The History of Chicago—Public +Servants—A Very Deaf Man.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Chicago</i>, <i>February</i> 17.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Oh!</span> a lecturing tour in America!</p> + +<p>I am here on my way to St. Paul and Minneapolis.</p> + +<p>Just before leaving New York, I saw in a comic +paper that Bismarck must really now be considered as +a great man, because, since his departure from office, +there had been no rumor of his having applied to +Major Pond to get up a lecturing tour for him in the +United States.</p> + +<p>It was not news to me that there are plenty of +people in America who laugh at the European author’s +trick of going to the American platform as soon as he +has made a little name for himself in his own country. +The laugh finds an echo in England, especially from +some journalists who have never been asked to go, +and from a few men who, having done one tour, think +it wise not to repeat the experience. For my part, +when I consider that Emerson, Holmes, Mark Twain, +have been lecturers, that Dickens, Thackeray, Matthew +Arnold, Sala, Stanley, Archdeacon Farrar, and many +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>204</span> +more, all have made their bow to American audiences, +I fail to discover anything very derogatory in the proceeding.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 250px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:202px; height:200px" src="images/img217.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">A PIG SQUEALING.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Besides, I feel bound to say that there is nothing in +a lecturing tour in America, even in a highly successful +one, that can excite +the envy of the +most jealous “failure” +in the world. +Such work is about +the hardest that a +man, used to the +comforts of this life, +can undertake. Actors, +at all events, +stop a week, sometimes +a fortnight, in +the cities they visit; +but a lecturer is on +the road every day, happy when he has not to start +at night.</p> + +<p>No words can picture the monotony of journeys +through an immense continent, the sameness of which +strikes you as almost unbearable. Everything is made +on one pattern. All the towns are alike. To be in a +railroad car for ten or twelve hours day after day can +hardly be called luxury, or even comfort. To have +one’s poor brain matter thus shaken in the cranium is +terrible, especially when the cranium is not quite full. +Constant traveling softens the brain, liquefies it, churns +it, evaporates it, and it runs out of you through all the +cracks of your head. I own that traveling is comfortable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>205</span> +in America, even luxurious; but the best fare +becomes monotonous and unpalatable when the dose +is repeated every day.</p> + +<p>To-morrow night I lecture in Minneapolis. The +next night I am in Detroit. Distance about seven +hundred miles.</p> + +<p>“Can I manage it?” said I to my impresario, when +he showed me my route.</p> + +<p>“Why, certn’ly,” he replied; “if you catch a train +after your lecture, I guess you will arrive in time for +your lecture in Detroit the next day.”</p> + +<p>These remarks, in America, are made without a +smile.</p> + +<p>On arriving at Chicago this morning, I found awaiting +me at the Grand Pacific Hotel, a letter from my +impresario. Here is the purport of it:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>I know you have with you a trunk and a small portmanteau. I +would advise you to leave your trunk at the Grand Pacific, and to +take with you only the portmanteau, while you are in the neighborhood +of Chicago. You will thus save trouble, expense, etc.</p></div> + +<p>On looking at my route, I found that the “neighborhood +of Chicago” included St. Paul, Minneapolis, Milwaukee, +Detroit, Cleveland, Cincinnati, Indianapolis: +something like a little two-thousand-mile tour “in the +neighborhood of Chicago,” to be done in about one +week.</p> + +<p>When I confided my troubles to my American +friends, I got little sympathy from them.</p> + +<p>“That’s quite right,” they would say; “we call the +neighborhood of a city any place which, by starting +after dinner, you can reach at about breakfast time the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>206</span> +next day. You dine, you go on board the car, you +have a smoke, you go to bed, you sleep, you wake up, +you dress—and there you are. Do you see?”</p> + +<p>After all you may be of this opinion, if you do not +reckon sleeping time. But I do reckon it, when I +have to spend the night in a closed box, six feet long, +and three feet wide, and about two feet high, and +especially when the operation has to be repeated three +or four times a week.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>And the long weary days that are not spent in +traveling, how can they be passed, even tolerably, in +an American city, where the lonely lecturer knows +nobody, and where there is absolutely nothing to be +seen beyond the hotels and the dry-goods stores? +Worse still: he sometimes has the good luck to make +the acquaintance of some charming people: but he has +hardly had time to fix their features in his memory, +when he has to go, probably never to see them again.</p> + +<p>The lecturer speaks for an hour and a half on the +platform every evening, the rest of his time is exclusively +devoted to keeping silence. Poor fellow! how +grateful he is to the hotel clerk who sometimes—alas, +very seldom—will chat with him for a few minutes. +As a rule the hotel clerk is a mute, who assigns a room +to you, or hands you the letters waiting for you in the +box corresponding to your number. His mouth is +closed. He may have seen you for half a minute only; +he will remember you. Even in a hotel accommodating +over a thousand guests, he will know you, he will know +the number of your room, but he won’t speak. He is +not the only American that won’t speak. Every man +in America who is attending to some duty of other, +has his mouth closed. I have tried the railroad conductor, +and found him mute. I have had a shot at the +porter in the Pullman car, and found him mute. I +have endeavored to +draw out the janitors +of the halls where I +was to speak in the +evening, and I have +failed. Even the +negroes won’t speak. +You would imagine +that speaking was +prohibited by the +statute-book. When +my lecture was over, +I returned to the +hotel, and like a culprit +crept to bed. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>207</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:386px; height:610px" src="images/img220.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE SLEEPING CAR.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>208</span></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 280px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:233px; height:300px" src="images/img221.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE JANITOR.</td></tr></table> + +<p>How I do love +New York! It is +not that it possesses +a single building that I really care for; it is because +it contains scores and scores of delightful people, +brilliant, affable, hospitable, warm-hearted friends, who +were kind enough to welcome me when I returned +from a tour, and in whose company I could break up +the cobwebs that had had time to form in the corners +of my mouth.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The history of Chicago can be written in a few lines. +So can the history of the whole of America. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>209</span> </p> + +<p>In about 1830 a man called Benjamin Harris, with +his family, moved to Chicago, or Fort Dearborn, as it +was then called. Not more than half a dozen whites, +all of whom were Indian traders, had preceded them. +In 1832 they had a child, the first white female born +in Chicago—now married, called Mrs. S. A. Holmes, +and the mother of fourteen children. In 1871 Chicago +had over 100,000 inhabitants, and was burned to +the ground. To-day Chicago has over 1,200,000 inhabitants, +and in ten years’ time will have two millions.</p> + +<p>The activity in Chicago is perfectly amazing. And +I don’t mean commercial activity only. Compare +the following statistics: In the great reading rooms +of the British Museum, there was an average of 620 +readers daily during the year 1888. In the reading-room +of the Chicago Public Library, there was an average +of 1569 each day in the same year. Considering +that the population of London is nearly five times that +of Chicago, it shows that the reading public is ten +times more numerous in Chicago than in London.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>It is a never failing source of amusement to watch +the ways of public servants in this country.</p> + +<p>I went to pay a visit to a public museum this afternoon.</p> + +<p>In Europe, the keepers, that is to say, the servants +of the public, have cautions posted in the museums, in +which “the public are requested not to touch.” In +France, they are “begged,” which is perhaps a more +suitable expression, as the museums, after all, belong +to the public. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>210</span> </p> + +<p>In America, the notice is “Hands off!” This is +short and to the point. The servants of the public allow +you to enter the museums, charge you twenty-five +cents, and warn you to behave well. “Hands off” +struck me as rather off-handed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:352px; height:430px" src="images/img223.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE “BRUSH-UP.”</p></div> + +<p>I really admire the independence of all the servants +in this country. You may give them a tip, you will +not run the risk of making them servile or even +polite. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>211</span> </p> + +<p>The railway conductor says “ticket!” The word +<i>please</i> does not belong to his vocabulary any more than +the words “thank you.” He says “ticket” and +frowns. You show it to him. He looks at it suspiciously, +and gives it back to you with a haughty air +that seems to say: “I hope you will behave properly +while you are in my car.”</p> + +<p>The tip in America is not <i>de rigueur</i> as in Europe. +The cabman charges you so much, and expects nothing +more. He would lose his dignity by accepting a +tip (many run the risk). He will often ask you for more +than you owe him; but this is the act of a sharp +man of business, not the act of a servant. In doing so, +he does not derogate from his character.</p> + +<p>The negro is the only servant who smiles in America, +the only one who is sometimes polite and attentive, +and the only one who speaks English with a pleasant +accent.</p> + +<p>The negro porter in the sleeping cars has seldom +failed to thank me for the twenty-five or fifty cent +piece I always give him after he has brushed—or +rather, swept—my clothes with his little broom.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>A few minutes ago, as I was packing my valise for +a journey to St. Paul and Minneapolis to-night, the +porter brought in a card. The name was unknown +to me; but the porter having said that it was the +card of a gentleman who was most anxious to speak +to me, I said, “Very well, bring him here.”</p> + +<p>The gentleman entered the room, saluted me, +shook hands, and said:</p> + +<p>“I hope I am not intruding.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212" id="page212"></a>212</span> </p> + +<p>“Well,” said I, “I must ask you not to detain me +long, because I am off in a few minutes.”</p> + +<p>“I understand, sir, that some time ago you were engaged +in teaching the French language in one of the +great public schools of England.”</p> + +<p>“I was, sir,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“Well, I have a son whom I wish to speak French +properly, and I have come to ask for your views +on the subject. In other words, will you be good +enough to tell me what are the best methods for +teaching this language? Only excuse me, I am +very deaf.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:418px; height:250px" src="images/img225.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">LEFT.</p></div> + +<p>He pulled out of his back pocket two yards of gutta-percha +tube, and, applying one end to his ear and +placing the other against my mouth, he said, “Go +ahead.”</p> + +<p>“Really?” I shouted through the tube. “Now +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>213</span> +please shut your eyes; nothing is better for increasing +the power of hearing.”</p> + +<p>The man shut his eyes and turned his head sideways, +so as to have the listening ear in front of me. +I took my valise and ran to the elevator as fast as I +could.</p> + +<p>That man may still be waiting for aught I know and +care.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Before leaving the hotel, I made the acquaintance +of Mr. George Kennan, the Russian traveler. His +articles on Russia and Siberia, published in the <i>Century +Magazine</i>, attracted a great deal of public attention, +and people everywhere throng to hear him relate +his terrible experiences on the platform. He has two +hundred lectures to give this season. He struck me +as a most remarkable man—simple, unaffected in his +manner, with unflinching resolution written on his +face; a man in earnest, you can see. I am delighted +to find that I shall have the pleasure of meeting him +again in New York in the middle of April. He looks +tired. He, too, is lecturing in the “neighborhood of +Chicago,” and is off now to the night train for Cincinnati.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:75px" src="images/img226.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>214</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> + +<p class="tt">St. Paul and Minneapolis, the Sister Cities—Rivalries +and Jealousies between Large American +Cities—Minnehaha Falls—Wonderful +Interviewers—My Hat gets into Trouble +Again—Electricity in the Air—Forest Advertisements—Railway +Speed in America.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>St. Paul, Minn.</i>, <i>February</i> 20.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Arrived</span> at St. Paul the day before yesterday +to pay a professional visit to the two great sister +cities of the north of America.</p> + +<p>Sister cities! Yes, they are near enough to shake +hands and kiss each other, but I am afraid they avail +themselves of their proximity to scratch each other’s +faces.</p> + +<p>If you open Bouillet’s famous Dictionary of History +and Geography (edition 1880), you will find in it neither +St. Paul nor Minneapolis. I was told yesterday that +in 1834 there was one white inhabitant in Minneapolis. +To-day the two cities have about 200,000 inhabitants +each. Where is the dictionary of geography that +can keep pace with such wonderful phantasmagoric +growth? The two cities are separated by a distance +of about nine miles, but they are every day growing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>215</span> +up toward each other, and to-morrow they will practically +have become one.</p> + +<p>Nothing is more amusing than the jealousies which +exist between the different large cities of the United +States, and when these rival places are close to each +other, the feeling of jealousy is so intensified as to +become highly entertaining.</p> + +<p>St. Paul charges Minneapolis with copying into +the census names from tombstones, and it is affirmed +that young men living in either one of the cities +will marry girls belonging to the other so as to decrease +its population by one. The story goes +that once a preacher having announced, in a Minneapolis +church, that he had taken the text of his +sermon from St. Paul, the congregation walked out +<i>en masse</i>.</p> + +<p>New York despises Philadelphia, and pokes fun at +Boston. On the other hand, Boston hates Chicago, +and <i>vice versa</i>. St. Louis has only contempt for Chicago, +and both cities laugh heartily at Detroit and +Milwaukee. San Francisco and Denver are left alone +in their prosperity. They are so far away from the +east and north of America, that the feeling they inspire +is only one of indifference.</p> + +<p>“Philadelphia is a city of homes, not of lodging-houses,” +once said a Philadelphian to a New Yorker; +“and it spreads over a far greater area than New York, +with less than half the inhabitants.” “Ah,” replied +the New Yorker, “that’s because it has been so much +sat upon.”</p> + +<p>“You are a city of commerce,” said a Bostonian to +a New York wit; “Boston is a city of culture.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>216</span> +“Yes,” replied the New Yorker. “You spell culture +with a big C, and God with a small g.”</p> + +<p>Of course St. Paul and Minneapolis accuse each +other of counting their respective citizens twice over. +All that is diverting in the highest degree. This feeling +does not exist only between the rival cities of the +New World, it exists in the Old. Ask a Glasgow man +what he thinks of Edinburgh, and an Edinburgh man +what he thinks of Glasgow!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>On account of the intense cold (nearly thirty degrees +below zero), I have not been able to see much either of +St. Paul or of Minneapolis, and I am unable to please +or vex either of these cities by pointing out their +beauties and defects. Both are large and substantially +built, with large churches, schools, banks, stores, and +all the temples that modern Christians erect to Jehovah +and Mammon. I may say that the Ryan Hotel at St. +Paul and the West House at Minneapolis are among +the very best hotels I have come across in America, the +latter especially. When I have added that, the day +before yesterday, I had an immense audience in the +People’s Church at St. Paul, and that to-night I have +had a crowded house at the Grand Opera House in +Minneapolis, it is hardly necessary for me to say that I +shall have enjoyed myself in the two great towns, and +that I shall carry away with me a delightful recollection +of them.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Soon after arriving in Minneapolis yesterday, I went +to see the Minnehaha Falls, immortalized by Longfellow. +The motor line gave me an idea of rapid transit. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>217</span> +I returned to the West House for lunch and spent +the afternoon writing. Many interviewers called.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:312px; height:430px" src="images/img230.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“WHAT YEARLY INCOME DOES YOUR BOOKS +AND LECTURES BRING IN?”</p></div> + +<p>The first who came sat down in my room and point-blank +asked me my views on contagious diseases. +Seeing that I was not disposed to talk on the subject, +he asked me to discourse on republics and the prospects +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>218</span> +of General Boulanger. In fact, anything for +copy.</p> + +<p>The second one, after asking me where I came from +and where I was going, inquired whether I had exhausted +the Anglo-Saxons and whether I should write +on other nations. After I had satisfied him, he asked me +what yearly income my books and lectures brought in.</p> + +<p>Another wanted to know why I had not brought my +wife with me, how many children I had, how old they +were, and other details as wonderfully interesting to +the public. By and by I saw he was jotting down a +description of my appearance, and the different clothes +I had on! “I will unpack this trunk,” I said, “and +spread all its contents on the floor. Perhaps you would +be glad to have a look at my things.” He smiled: +“Don’t trouble any more,” he said; “I am very much +obliged to you for your courtesy.”</p> + +<p>This morning, on opening the papers, I see that my +hat is getting into trouble again. I thought that, after +getting rid of my brown hat and sending it to the editor +in the town where it had created such a sensation, peace +was secured. Not a bit. In the Minneapolis <i>Journal</i> +I read the following:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>The attractive personality of the man [allow me to record this for +the sake of what follows], heightened by his négligé sack coat and +vest, with a background of yellowish plaid trowsers, occasional +glimpses of which were revealed from beneath the folds of a heavy +ulster, which swept the floor [I was sitting of course] and was +trimmed with fur collar and cuffs. And then that hat! On the +table, carelessly thrown amid a pile of correspondence, was his +nondescript headgear. One of those half-sombreros affected by the +wild Western cowboy when on dress parade, an impossible combination +of dark-blue and bottle-green.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>219</span> +Fancy treating in this off-handed way a $7.50 soft +black felt hat bought of the best hatter in New York! +No, nothing is sacred for those interviewers. Dark-blue +and bottle-green! Why, did that man imagine that I +wore my hat inside out so as to show the silk lining?</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The air here is perfectly wonderful, dry and full of +electricity. If your fingers come into contact with +anything metallic, like the hot-water pipes, the chandeliers, +the stopper of your washing basin, they draw +a spark, sharp and vivid. One of the reporters who +called here, and to whom I mentioned the fact, was +able to light my gas with his finger, by merely obtaining +an electric spark on the top of the burner. When +he said he could thus light the gas, I thought he was +joking.</p> + +<p>I had observed this phenomenon before. In Ottawa, +for instance.</p> + +<p>Whether this air makes you live too quickly, I do +not know; but it is most bracing and healthy. I have +never felt so well and hearty in my life as in these cold, +dry climates.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I was all the more flattered to have such a large and +fashionable audience at the Grand Opera House to-night, +that my <i>causerie</i> was not given under the auspices +of any society, or as one of any course of lectures.</p> + +<p>I lecture in Detroit the day after to-morrow. I shall +have to leave Minneapolis to-morrow morning at six +o’clock for Chicago, which I shall reach at ten in the +evening. Then I shall have to run to the Michigan +Central Station to catch the night train to Detroit at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>220</span> +eleven. Altogether, twenty-three hours of railway +traveling—745 miles.</p> + +<p>And still in “the neighborhood of Chicago!”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:399px; height:430px" src="images/img233.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AN ADVERTISEMENT.</p></div> + +<p class="rt"><i>In the train to Chicago</i>, <i>February</i> 21.</p> + +<p>Have just passed a wonderful advertisement. Here, +in the midst of a forest, I have seen a huge wide board +nailed on two trees, parallel to the railway line. On it +was written, round a daub supposed to represent one of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>221</span> +the loveliest English ladies: “If you would be as lovely +as the beautiful Lady de Gray, use Gray perfumes.”</p> + +<p><i>Soyez donc belle</i>, to be used as an advertisement in +the forests of Minnesota!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 230px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:175px; height:200px" src="images/img234.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“I RETURNED THANKS.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>My lectures have never been criticised in more kind, +flattering, and eulogistic terms than in the St. Paul and +the Minneapolis papers, which I am reading on my +way to Chicago. I find +newspaper reading a +great source of amusement +in the trains. +First of all because +these papers always are +light reading, and also +because reading is a +possibility in a well +lighted carriage going +only at a moderate +speed. Eating is comfortable, +and even writing +is possible <i>en route</i>. +With the exception of +a few trains, such as are run from New York to Boston, +Chicago, and half a dozen other important cities, railway +traveling is slower in America than in England +and France; but I have never found fault with the +speed of an American train. On the contrary, I have +always felt grateful to the driver for running slowly. +And every time that the car reached the other side +of some of the many rotten wooden bridges on which +the train had to pass, I returned thanks.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>222</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Detroit—The Town—The Detroit “Free +Press”—A Lady Interviewer—The “Unco +Guid” in Detroit—Reflections on the +Anglo-Saxon “Unco Guid.”</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Detroit</i>, <i>February</i> 22.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Am</span> delighted with Detroit. It possesses beautiful +streets, avenues, and walks, and a fine square in the +middle of which stands a remarkably fine monument. +I am also grateful to this city for breaking the monotony +of the eternal parallelograms with which the +whole of the United States are built. My national +vanity almost suggests to me that this town owes its +gracefulness to its French origin. There are still, I +am told, about 25,000 French people settled in +Detroit.</p> + +<p>I have had to-night, in the Church of Our Father, +a crowded and most brilliant audience, whose keenness, +intelligence, and kindness were very flattering.</p> + +<p>I was interviewed, both by a lady and a gentleman, +for the Detroit <i>Free Press</i>, that most witty of American +newspapers. The charming young lady interviewer +came to talk on social topics, I remarked that +she was armed with a copy of “Jonathan and his +Continent,” and I came to the conclusion that she +would probably ask for a few explanations about that +book. I was not mistaken. She took exception, she +informed me, to many statements concerning the +American girl in the book. I made a point to prove +to her that all was right, and all was truth, and I think +I persuaded her to abandon the prosecution. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>223</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:467px; height:610px" src="images/img236.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE LADY INTERVIEWER.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>224</span></p> + +<p>To tell the truth, now the real truth, mind you, I +am rather tired of hearing about the American girl. +The more I see of her the more I am getting convinced +that she is—like the other girls in the world.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>A friend, who came to have a chat with me after this +lecture, has told me that the influential people of the +city are signing a petition to the custodians of the +museum calling upon them to drape all the nude +statues, and intimating their intention of boycotting +the institution, if the Venuses and Apollos are not +forthwith provided with tuckers and togas.</p> + +<p>It is a well-known fact in the history of the world, +that young communities have no taste for fine art—they +have no time to cultivate it. If I had gone to +Oklahoma, I should not have expected to find any art +feeling at all; but that in a city like Detroit, where +there is such evidence of intellectual life and high +culture among the inhabitants, a party should be +found numerous and strong enough to issue such a +heathen dictate as this seems scarcely credible. I am +inclined to think it must be a joke. That the “unco +guid” should flourish under the gloomy sky of Great +Britain I understand, but under the bright blue sky of +America, in that bracing atmosphere, I cannot.</p> + +<p>It is most curious that there should be people who, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>225</span> +when confronted with some glorious masterpiece of +sculpture, should not see the poetry, the beauty of the +human form divine. This is beyond me, and beyond +any educated Frenchman.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:357px; height:430px" src="images/img238.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE DRAPED STATUES.</p></div> + +<p>Does the “unco guid” exist in America, then? I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>226</span> +should have thought that these people, of the earth +earthy, were not found out of England and Scotland.</p> + +<p>When I was in America two years ago, I heard that +an English author of some repute, talking one day +with Mr. Richard Watson Gilder about the Venus of +Milo, had remarked that, as he looked at her beautiful +form, he longed to put his arms around her and kiss +her. Mr. Gilder, who, as a poet, as an artist, has felt +only respect mingled with his admiration of the matchless +divinity, replied: “I hope she would have grown +a pair of arms for the occasion, so as to have slapped +your face.”</p> + +<p>It is not so much the thing that offends the “unco +guid”; it is the name, the reflection, the idea. Unhealthy-minded +himself, he dreads a taint where there +is none, and imagines in others a corruption which +exists only in himself.</p> + +<p>Yet the One, whom he would fain call Master, but +whose teachings he is slow in following, said: “Woe be +to them by whom offense cometh.” But the “unco +guid” is a Christian failure, a <i>parvenu</i>.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The <i>parvenu</i> is a person who makes strenuous efforts +to persuade other people that he is entitled to the +position he occupies.</p> + +<p>There are <i>parvenus</i> in religion, as there are <i>parvenus</i> +in the aristocracy, in society, in literature, in the fine +arts, etc.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 240px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:193px; height:500px" src="images/img240.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE PARVENU.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The worst type of the French <i>parvenu</i> is the one +whose father was a worthy, hard-working man called +<i>Dubois</i> or <i>Dumont</i>, and who, at his father’s death, dubs +himself <i>du Bois</i> or <i>du Mont</i>, becomes a clericalist and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>227</span> +the stanchest monarchist, +and runs down +the great Revolution +which made one of his +grand-parents a man. +M. <i>du Bois</i> or <i>du Mont</i> +outdoes the genuine +nobleman, who needs +make no noise to attract +attention to a +name which everybody +knows, and which, in +spite of what may be +said on the subject, +often recalls the memory +of some glorious +event in the past.</p> + +<p>The worst type of +Anglo-Saxon <i>parvenu</i> +is probably the “unco +guid,” or religious <i>parvenu</i>.</p> + +<p>The Anglo-Saxon +“unco guid” is seldom +to be found among +Roman Catholics; that +is, among the followers +of the most ancient +Christian religion. He +is to be found among +the followers of the newest forms of “Christianity.” +This is quite natural. He has to try to eclipse his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>228</span> +fellow-Christians by his piety, in order to show that +the new religion to which he belongs was a necessary +invention.</p> + +<p>The Anglo-Saxon “unco guid” is easily recognized. +He is dark (all bigots and fanatics are). He is dressed +in black, shiny broadcloth raiment. A wide-brimmed +felt hat covers his head. He walks with light, short, +jaunty steps, his head a little inclined on one side. +He never carries a stick, which might give a rather +fast appearance to his turn-out. He invariably carries +an umbrella, even in the brightest weather, as being +more respectable—and this umbrella he never rolls, for +he would avoid looking in the distance as if he had a +stick. He casts right and left little grimaces that are +so many forced smiles of self-satisfaction. “Try to be +as good as I am,” he seems to say to all who happen +to look at him, “and you will be as happy.” And he +“smiles, and smiles, and smiles.”</p> + +<p>He has a small soul, a small heart, and a small brain.</p> + +<p>As a rule, he is a well-to-do person. It pays better +to have a narrow mind than to have broad sympathies.</p> + +<p>He drinks tea, but prefers cocoa, as being a more +virtuous beverage.</p> + +<p>He is perfectly destitute of humor, and is the most +inartistic creature in the world. Everything suggests +to him either profanity or indecency. The “Reminiscences +of Scottish Life and Character,” by Dean +Ramsay, would strike him as profane, and if placed in +the Musée du Louvre, before the Venus of Milo, he +would see nothing but a woman who has next to no +clothes on.</p> + +<p>His distorted mind makes him take everything in ill +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" id="page229"></a>229</span> +part. His hands get pricked on every thorn that he +comes across on the road, and he misses all the roses.</p> + +<p>If I were not a Christian, the following story, which +is not as often told as it should be, would have converted +me long ago:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>Jesus arrived one evening at the gates of a certain city, and he +sent his disciples forward to prepare supper, while he himself, intent +on doing good, walked through the streets into the marketplace. +And he saw at the corner of the market some people gathered +together, looking at an object on the ground; and he drew +near to see what it might be. It was a dead dog, with a halter +round his neck, by which he appeared to have been dragged +through the dirt; and a viler, a more abject, a more unclean thing, +never met the eyes of man. And those who stood by looked on +with abhorrence. “Faugh!” said one, stopping his nose, “it +pollutes the air.” “How long,” said another, “shall this foul +beast offend our sight?” “Look at his torn hide,” said a third; +“one could not even cut a shoe out of it!” “And his ears,” said +a fourth, “all draggled and bleeding!” “No doubt,” said a fifth, +“he has been hanged for thieving!” And Jesus heard them, and +looking down compassionately on the dead creature, he said: +“Pearls are not equal to the whiteness of his teeth!”</p></div> + +<p>If I understand the Gospel, the gist of its teachings +is contained in the foregoing little story. Love and +forgiveness: finding something to pity and admire +even in a dead dog. Such is the religion of Christ.</p> + +<p>The “Christianity” of the “unco guid” is as like +this religion as are the teachings of the Old Testament.</p> + +<p>Something to condemn, the discovery of wickedness +in the most innocent, and often elevating, recreations, +such is the favorite occupation of the Anglo-Saxon +“unco guid.” Music is licentious, laughter wicked, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" id="page230"></a>230</span> +dancing immoral, statuary almost criminal, and, by +and by, the “Society for the Suggestion of Indecency,” +which is placed under his immediate patronage +and supervision, will find fault with our going out +in the streets, on the plea that under our garments we +carry our nudity.</p> + +<p>The Anglo-Saxon “unco guid” is the successor of +the Pharisee. In reading Christ’s description of the +latter, you are immediately struck with the likeness. +The modern “unco guid” “loves to pray standing in +the churches and chapels and in the corners of the +streets, that he may be seen of men.” “He uses vain +repetitions, for he thinks that he shall be heard for his +much speaking.” “When he fasts, he is of sad countenance; +for he disfigures his face, that he may appear +unto men to fast.” There is not one feature of the +portrait that does not fit in exactly.</p> + +<p>The Jewish “unco guid” crucified Christ. The +Anglo-Saxon one would crucify Him again if He should +return to earth and interfere with the prosperous business +firms that make use of His name.</p> + +<p>The “unco guid’s” Christianity consists in extolling +his virtues and ignoring other people’s. He spends +his time in “pulling motes out of people’s eyes,” but +cannot see clearly to do it, “owing to the beams that +are in his own.” He overwhelms you, he crushes you, +with his virtue, and one of the greatest treats is to +catch him tripping, a chance which you may occasionally +have, especially when you meet him on the Continent +of Europe.</p> + +<p>The Anglo-Saxon “unco guid” calls himself a +Christian, but the precepts of the Gospel are the very +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" id="page231"></a>231</span> +opposite of those he practices. The gentle, merciful, +forgiving, Man-God of the Gospel has not for him the +charms and attractions of the Jehovah who commanded +the cowardly, ungrateful, and bloodthirsty people of +his choice to treat their women as slaves, and to exterminate +their enemies, sparing neither old men, +women, nor children. This cruel, revengeful, implacable +deity is far more to the Anglo-Saxon “unco +guid’s” liking than the Saviour who bade His disciples +love their enemies and put up their swords in the +presence of his persecutors. The “unco guid” is not +a Christian, he is a Jew in all but name. And I will +say this much for him, that the Commandments given +on Mount Sinai are much easier to follow than the +Sermon on the Mount. It is easier not to commit +murder than to hold out your right cheek after your +left one has been slapped. It is easier not to steal +than to run after the man who has robbed us, in order +to offer him what he has not taken. It is easier to +honor our parents than to love our enemies.</p> + +<p>The teachings of the Gospel are trying to human +nature. There is no religion more difficult to follow; +and this is why, in spite of its beautiful, but too lofty, +precepts, there is no religion in the world that can +boast so many hypocrites—so many followers who +pretend that they follow their religion, but who do +not, and very probably cannot.</p> + +<p>Being unable to love man, as he is bidden in the +Gospel, the “unco guid” loves God, as he is bidden +in the Old Testament. He loves God in the abstract. +He tells Him so in endless prayers and litanies.</p> + +<p>For him Christianity consists in discussing theological +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" id="page232"></a>232</span> +questions, whether a minister shall preach with or +without a white surplice on, and in singing hymns +more or less out of tune.</p> + +<p>As if God could be loved to the exclusion of man! +You love God, after all, as you love anybody else, not +by professions of love, but by deeds.</p> + +<p>When he prays, the “unco guid” buries his face in +his hands or in his hat. He screws up his face, and the +more fervent the prayer is (or the more people are +looking at him), the more grimaces he makes. Heinrich +Heine, on coming out of an English church, said +that “a blaspheming Frenchman must be a more +pleasing object in the sight of God than many a praying +Englishman.” He had, no doubt, been looking at +the “unco guid.”</p> + +<p>If you do not hold the same religious views as he +does, you are a wicked man, an atheist. He alone has +the truth. Being engaged in a discussion with an +“unco guid” one day, I told him that if God had +given me hands to handle, surely He had given me a +little brain to think. “You are right,” he quickly +interrupted; “but, with the hands that God gave you +you can commit a good action, and you can also commit +murder.” Therefore, because I did not think as +he did, I was the criminal, for, of course, he was the +righteous man. For all those who, like myself, believe +in a future life, there is, I believe, a great treat in store: +the sight of the face he will make, when his place is +assigned to him in the next world. <i>Qui mourra, verra.</i></p> + +<p>Anglo-Saxon land is governed by the “unco guid.” +Good society cordially despises him; the aristocracy +of Anglo-Saxon intelligence—philosophers, scientists, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" id="page233"></a>233</span> +men of letters, artists—simply loathe him; but all have +to bow to his rule, and submit their works to his +most incompetent criticism, and all are afraid of him.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:371px; height:430px" src="images/img246.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE POOR MAN’S SABBATH.</p></div> + +<p>In a moment of wounded national pride, Sydney +Smith once exclaimed: “What a pity it is we have +no amusements in England except vice and religion!” +The same exclamation might be uttered to-day, and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" id="page234"></a>234</span> +cause laid at the Anglo-Saxon “unco guid’s” door. It +is he who is responsible for the degradation of the British +lower classes, by refusing to enable them to elevate +their minds on Sundays at the sight of the masterpieces +of art which are contained in the museums, or +at the sound of the symphonies of Beethoven and +Mozart, which might be given to the people at reduced +prices on that day. The poor people must choose +between vice and religion, and as the wretches know +they are not wanted in the churches, they go to the +taverns.</p> + +<p>It is this same “unco guid” who is responsible for +the state of the streets in the large cities of Great +Britain by refusing to allow vice to be regulated. If you +were to add the amount of immorality to be found in +the streets of Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and the other capitals +of Europe, no fair-minded Englishman “who knows” +would contradict me, if I said that the total thus obtained +would be much below the amount supplied by +London alone; but the “unco guid” stays at home of +an evening, advises you to do the same, and ignoring, +or pretending to ignore, what is going on round his +own house, he prays for the conversion—of the French.</p> + +<p>The “unco guid” thinks that his own future safety +is assured, so he prays for his neighbors’. He reminds +one of certain Scots, who inhabit two small islands on +the west coast of Scotland. Their piety is really most +touching. Every Sunday in their churches, they commend +to God’s care “the puir inhabitants of the two +adjacent islands of Britain and Ireland.”</p> + +<p>A few weeks ago, there appeared in a Liverpool paper +a letter, signed “A Lover of Reverence,” in which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" id="page235"></a>235</span> +this anonymous person complained of a certain lecturer, +who had indulged in profane remarks. “I was +not present myself,” he or she said, “but have heard of +what took place,” etc. You see, this person was not +present, but as a good “Christian,” he hastened to +judge. However, this is nothing. In the letter, I +read: “Fortunately, there are in Liverpool, a few +Christians, like myself, always on the watch, and +ever looking after our Maker’s honor.”</p> + +<p>Fortunate Liverpool! What a proud position for +the Almighty, to be placed in Liverpool under the +protection of the “Lover of Reverence!”</p> + +<p>Probably this “unco guid” and myself would not agree +on the definition of the word <i>profanity</i>, for, if I had +written and published such a letter, I would consider +myself guilty, not only of profanity, but of blasphemy.</p> + +<p>If the “unco guid” is the best product of Christianity, +Christianity must be pronounced a ghastly failure, +and I should feel inclined to exclaim, with the late +Dean Milman, “If all this is Christianity, it is high +time we should try something else—say the religion +of Christ, for instance.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:161px" src="images/img248.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page236" id="page236"></a>236</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Milwaukee—A Well-filled Day—Reflections +on the Scotch in America—Chicago Criticisms.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Milwaukee</i>, <i>February</i> 25.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Arrived</span> here from Detroit yesterday. Milwaukee +is a city of over two hundred thousand +inhabitants, a very large proportion of whom are Germans, +who have come here to settle down, and wish +good luck to the <i>Vaterland</i>, at the respectful distance +of five thousand miles.</p> + +<p>At the station I was met by Mr. John L. Mitchell, +the railway king, and by a compatriot of mine, M. A. +de Guerville, a young enthusiast who has made up his +mind to check the German invasion of Milwaukee, and +has succeeded in starting a French society, composed +of the leading inhabitants of the city. On arriving, I +found a heavy but delightful programme to go through +during the day: a lunch to be given me by the ladies +at Milwaukee College at one o’clock; a reception by +the French Club at Mrs. John L. Mitchell’s house at +four; a dinner at six; my lecture at eight, and a reception +and a supper by the Press Club at half-past ten; the +rest of the evening to be spent as circumstances would +allow or suggest. I was to be the guest of Mr. Mitchell +at his magnificent house in town. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" id="page237"></a>237</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:489px; height:610px" src="images/img250.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A CITIZEN OF MILWAUKEE.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" id="page238"></a>238</span> </p> + +<p>“Good,” I said, “let us begin.”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Went through the whole programme. The reception +by the French Club, in the beautiful Moorish-looking +rooms of Mrs. John L. Mitchell’s superb mansion, +was a great success. I was amazed to meet so +many French-speaking people, and much amused to +see my young compatriot go from one group to another, +to satisfy himself that all the members of the +club were speaking French; for I must tell you that, +among the statutes of the club, there is one that imposes +a fine of ten cents on any member caught in +the act of speaking English at the gatherings of the +association.</p> + +<p>The lecture was a great success. The New Plymouth +Church<a name="FnAnchor_3" id="FnAnchor_3" href="#Footnote_3"><span class="sp">3</span></a> was packed, and the audience extremely +warm and appreciative. The supper offered to me by +the Press Club proved most enjoyable. And yet, that +was not all. At one o’clock the Press Club repaired +to a perfect German <i>Brauerei</i>, where we spent an hour +in Bavaria, drinking excellent Bavarian beer while +chatting, telling stories, etc.</p> + +<p>I will omit to mention at what time we returned +home, so as not to tell tales about my kind host.</p> + +<p>In spite of the late hours we kept last night, breakfast +was punctually served at eight this morning. +First course, porridge. Thanks to the kind, thoroughly +Scotch hospitality of Mr. John L. Mitchell and his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" id="page239"></a>239</span> +charming family, thanks to the many friends and +sympathizers I met here, I shall carry away a most +pleasant recollection of this large and beautiful city. +I shall leave Milwaukee with much regret. Indeed, +the worst feature of a thick lecturing tour is to feel, +almost every day, that you leave behind friends whom +you may never see again.</p> + +<p>I lecture at the Central Music Hall, Chicago, this +evening; but Chicago is reached from here in two +hours and a half, and I will go as late in the day as I +can.</p> + +<p>No more beds for me now, until I reach Albany, in +three days.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The railway king in Wisconsin is a Scotchman. +I was not surprised to hear it. The iron king in Pennsylvania +is a Scotchman, Mr. Andrew Carnegie. The +oil king of Ohio is a Scotchman, Mr. Alexander Macdonald. +The silver king of California is a Scotchman, +Mr. Mackay. The dry-goods-store king of New York—he +is dead now—was a Scotchman, Mr. Stewart. +It is just the same in Canada, just the same in Australia, +and all over the English-speaking world. The +Scotch are successful everywhere, and the new countries +offer them fields for their industry, their perseverance, +and their shrewdness. There you see them +landowners, directors of companies, at the head of all +the great enterprises. In the lower stations of life, +thanks to their frugality and saving habits, you find +them thriving everywhere. You go to the manufactory, +you are told that the foremen are Scotch.</p> + +<p>I have, perhaps, a better illustration still. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" id="page240"></a>240</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:393px; height:430px" src="images/img253.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">TALES OF OLD SCOTLAND.</p></div> + +<p>If you travel in Canada, either by the Grand Trunk +or the Canadian Pacific, you will meet in the last parlor +car, near the stove, a man whose duty consists in seeing +that, all along the line, the workmen are at their +posts, digging, repairing, etc. These workmen are all +day exposed to the Canadian temperature, and often +have to work knee-deep in the snow. Well, you will +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241" id="page241"></a>241</span> +find that the man with small, keen eyes, who is able to +do his work in the railroad car, warming himself comfortably +by the stove, is invariably a Scotchman. There +is only one berth with a stove in the whole business; +it is he who has got it. Many times I have had a +chat with that Scotchman on the subject of old Scotland. +Many times I have sat with him in the little +smoking-room of the parlor car, listening to the history +of his life, or, maybe, a few good Scotch anecdotes.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>In the train from Chicago to Cleveland</i>, <i>February</i> 26.</p> + +<p>I arrived in Chicago at five o’clock in the afternoon +yesterday, dined, dressed, and lectured at the Music +Hall under the auspices of the Drexel free Kindergarten. +There was a large audience, and all passed +off very well. After the lecture, I went to the Grand +Pacific Hotel, changed clothes, and went on board the +sleeping car bound for Cleveland, O.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The criticisms of my lecture in this morning’s Chicago +papers are lively.</p> + +<p>The <i>Herald</i> calls me:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>A dapper little Frenchman. Five feet eleven in height, and two +hundred pounds in weight!</p></div> + +<p>The <i>Times</i> says:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>That splendid trinity of the American peerage, the colonel, the +judge, and the professor, turned out in full force at Central Music +Hall last night. The lecturer is a magician who serves up your +many little defects, peculiar to the auditors’ own country, on a +silver salver, so artistically garnished that one forgets the sarcasm +in admiration of the sauce.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page242" id="page242"></a>242</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:397px; height:610px" src="images/img255.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A CELEBRATED EXECUTIONER.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page243" id="page243"></a>243</span> </p> + +<p>The <i>Tribune</i> is quite as complimentary and quite as +lively:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>His satire is as keen as the blade of the celebrated executioner +who could cut a man’s head off, and the unlucky person not know +it until a pinch of snuff would cause a sneeze, and the decapitated +head would, much to its surprise, find itself rolling over in the +dust.</p></div> + +<p>And after a good breakfast at Toledo station, I enjoyed +an hour poring over the Chicago papers.</p> + +<p>I lecture in Cleveland to-night, and am still in “the +neighborhood of Chicago.”</p> + +<hr class="foot" /><div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3" href="#FnAnchor_3"><span class="fn">3</span></a> Very strange, that church with its stalls, galleries, and boxes—a +perfect theater. From the platform it was interesting to watch +the immense throng, packing the place from floor to ceiling, in +front, on the sides, behind, everywhere.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:100px; height:202px" src="images/img256.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page244" id="page244"></a>244</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">The Monotony of Traveling in the States—“Manon +Lescaut” in America.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>In the train from Cleveland to Albany</i>, <i>February</i> 27.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Am</span> getting tired and ill. I am not bed-ridden, +but am fairly well rid of a bed. I have lately +spent as many nights in railway cars as in hotel beds.</p> + +<p>Am on my way to Albany, just outside “the neighborhood +of Chicago.” I lecture in that place to-night, +and shall get to New York to-morrow.</p> + +<p>I am suffering from the monotony of life. My +greatest objection to America (indeed I do not believe +I have any other) is the sameness of everything. I +understand the Americans who run away to Europe +every year to see an old church, a wall covered with +moss and ivy, some good old-fashioned peasantry not +dressed like the rest of the world.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 250px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:197px; height:320px" src="images/img258.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“THE SAME ‘INDIAN.’”</td></tr></table> + +<p>What strikes a European most, in his rambles +through America, is the absence of the picturesque. +The country is monotonous, and eternally the same. +Burned-up fields, stumps of trees, forests, wooden +houses all built on the same pattern. All the stations +you pass are alike. All the towns are alike. To say +that an American town is ten times larger than another +simply means that it has ten times more blocks of houses. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page245" id="page245"></a>245</span> +All the streets are alike, with the same telegraph poles, +the same “Indian” as a sign for tobacconists, the same +red, white, and blue pole as a sign for barbers. All the +hotels are the same, +all the <i>menus</i> are the +same, all the plates +and dishes the same—why, +all the ink-stands +are the same. +All the people are +dressed in the same +way. When you +meet an American +with all his beard, +you want to shake +his hands and thank +him for not shaving +it, as ninety-nine out +of every hundred +Americans do. Of +course I have not +seen California, the +Rocky Mountains, +and many other parts +of America where the +scenery is very beautiful; but I think my remarks can +apply to those States most likely to be visited by a +lecturer, that is, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, +Wisconsin, Minnesota, and others, during the winter +months, after the Indian summer, and before the renewal +of verdure in May.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page246" id="page246"></a>246</span> </p> + +<p>After breakfast, that indefatigable man of business, +that intolerable bore, who incessantly bangs the doors +and brings his stock-in-trade to the cars, came and +whispered in my ears:</p> + +<p>“New book—just out—a forbidden book!”</p> + +<p>“A forbidden book! What is that?” I inquired.</p> + +<p>He showed it to me. It was “Manon Lescaut.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 210px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:160px; height:220px" src="images/img259.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“NEW BOOK JUST OUT—A FORBIDDEN +BOOK!”</td></tr></table> + +<p>Is it possible? That literary and artistic <i>chef-d’œuvre</i>, +which has been the original type of “Paul et +Virginie” and “Atala”; +that touching drama, +which the prince of critics, +Jules Janin, declared +would be sufficient to save +contemporary literature +from complete oblivion, +dragged in the mire, +clothed in a dirty coarse +English garb! and advertised +as a forbidden +book! Three generations +of French people have +wept over the pathetic +story. Here it is now, +stripped of its unique +style and literary beauty, sold to the American +public as an improper book—a libel by translation +on a genius. British authors have complained for +years that their books were stolen in America. They +have suffered in pockets, it is true, but their reputation +has spread through an immense continent. What is +their complaint compared to that of the French authors +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247" id="page247"></a>247</span> +who have the misfortune to see their works +translated into American? It is not only their pockets +that suffer, but their reputation. The poor French +author is at the mercy of incapable and malicious +translators hired at starvation wages by the American +pirate publisher. He is liable to a species of defamation +ten times worse than robbery.</p> + +<p>And as I looked at that copy of “Manon Lescaut,” +I almost felt grateful that Prevost was dead.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:79px" src="images/img260.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page248" id="page248"></a>248</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">For the First Time I See an American Paper +Abuse Me—Albany to New York—A Lecture +at Daly’s Theater—Afternoon Audiences.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>February</i> 23.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">The</span> American press has always been very good to +me. Fairness one has a right to expect, but kindness +is an extra that is not always thrown in, and +therefore the uniform amiability of the American press +toward me could not fail to strike me most agreeably.</p> + +<p>Up to yesterday I had not seen a single unkind +notice or article, but in the Albany <i>Express</i> of yesterday +morning I read:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>This evening the people of Albany are asked to listen to a lecture +by Max O’Rell, who was in this country two years ago, and was +treated with distinguished courtesy. When he went home he +published a book filled with deliberate misstatements and willful +exaggerations of the traits of the American people.</p></div> + +<p>This paper “has reason,” as the French say. My +book contained one misstatement, at all events, and +that was that “all Americans have a great sense of +humor.” You may say that the French are a witty +people, but that does not mean that France contains +no fools. It is rather painful to have to explain such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249" id="page249"></a>249</span> +things, but I do so for the benefit of that editor and +with apologies to the general reader.</p> + +<p>In spite of this diverting little “par,” I had an immense +audience last night in Harmanus Bleecker +Hall, a new and magnificent construction in Albany, +excellent, no doubt, for music, but hardly adapted +for lecturing in, on account of its long and narrow +shape.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:292px; height:320px" src="images/img262.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">RIP VAN WINKLE.</p></div> + +<p>I should have liked to stay longer in Albany, which +struck me as being a remarkably beautiful place, but +having to lecture in New York this afternoon, I took +the vestibule train early this morning for New York. +This journey is exceedingly picturesque along the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250" id="page250"></a>250</span> +Hudson River, traveling as you do between two +ranges of wooded hills, dotted over with beautiful +habitations, and now and then passing a little town +bathing its feet in the water. In the distance one gets +good views of the Catskill Mountains, immortalized by +Washington Irving in “Rip Van Winkle.”</p> + +<p>On boarding the train, the first thing I did was to +read the news of yesterday. Imagine my amusement, +on opening the Albany <i>Express</i> to read the following +extract from the report of my lecture:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>He has an agreeable but not a strong voice. This was the only +point that could be criticised in his lecture, which consisted of +many clever sketches of the humorous side of the character of +different Anglo-Saxon nations. His humor is keen. He evidently +is a great admirer of America and Americans, only bringing into +ridicule some of their most conspicuously objectionable traits.... +His lecture was entertaining, clever, witty and thoroughly enjoyable.</p></div> + +<p>The most amusing part of all this is that the American +sketches which I introduced into my lecture last +night, and which seemed to have struck the Albany +<i>Express</i> so agreeably, were all extracts from the book +“filled with deliberate misstatements and willful exaggerations +of the traits of the American people.” +Well, after all, there is humor, unconscious humor, in +the Albany <i>Express</i>.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Arrived at the Grand Central Station in New York +at noon, I gave up my check to a transfer man, but +learned to my chagrin that the vestibule train from +Albany had carried no baggage, and that my things +would only arrive by the next train at about three +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page251" id="page251"></a>251</span> +o’clock. Pleasant news for a man who was due to +address an audience at three!</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 210px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:156px; height:320px" src="images/img264.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“A LITTLE BIT STIFF.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>There was only one way out of the difficulty. Off +I went post-haste to a ready-made tailor’s, who sold +me a complete fit-out from head +to foot. I did not examine the +cut and fit of each garment very +minutely, but went off satisfied +that I was presenting a neat and +respectable appearance. Before +going on the stage, however, I +discovered that the sleeves of the +new coat, though perfectly smooth +and well-behaved so long as the +arms inside them were bent at the +elbow, developed a remarkable +cross-twist as soon as I let my +arms hang straight down.</p> + +<p>By means of holding it firm +with the middle finger, I managed +to keep the recalcitrant sleeve in +position, and the affair passed off +very well. Only my friends remarked, after the lecture, +that they thought I looked a little bit stiff, +especially when making my bow to the audience.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>My lecture at Daly’s Theater this afternoon was +given under the auspices of the Bethlehem Day Nursery, +and I am thankful to think that this most interesting +association is a little richer to-day than it was +yesterday. For an afternoon audience it was remarkably +warm and responsive. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page252" id="page252"></a>252</span> </p> + +<p>I have many times lectured to afternoon audiences, +but have not, as a rule, enjoyed it. Afternoon “shows” +are a mistake. Do not ask me why; but think of +those you have ever been to, and see if you have a +lively recollection of them. There is a time for everything. +Fancy playing the guitar under your lady love’s +window by daylight, for instance!</p> + +<p>Afternoon audiences are kid-gloved ones. There is +but a sprinkling of men, and so the applause, when it +comes, is a feeble affair, more chilling almost than +silence. In some fashionable towns it is bad form to +applaud at all in the afternoon. I have a vivid recollection +of the effect produced one afternoon in Cheltenham +by the vigorous applause of a sympathizing +friend of mine, sitting in the reserved seats. How all +the other reserved seats craned their necks in credulous +astonishment to get a view of this innovator, this outer +barbarian! He was new to the wondrous ways of the +<i>Chillitonians</i>. In the same audience was a lady, Irish +and very charming, as I found out on later acquaintance, +who showed her appreciation from time to time +by clapping the tips of her fingers together noiselessly, +while her glance said: “I should very much like to +applaud, but you know I can’t do it; we are in Cheltenham, +and such a thing is bad form, especially in the +afternoon.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:419px; height:430px" src="images/img266.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE GOUTY MAN.</p></div> + +<p>Afternoon audiences in the southern health resorts +of England are probably the least inspiriting and inspiring +of all. There are the sick, the lame, the halt. +Some of them are very interesting people, but a large +proportion appear to be suffering more from the boredom +of life than any other complaint, and look as if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>253</span> +it would do them good to follow out the well-known +advice, “Live on sixpence a day, and earn it.” It is +hard work entertaining people who have done everything, +seen everything, tasted everything, been everywhere—people +whose sole aim is to kill time. A fair +sprinkling are gouty. They spend most of their waking +hours in a bath-chair. As a listener, the gouty +man is sometimes decidedly funny. He gives signs of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>254</span> +life from time to time by a vigorous slap on his thigh +and a vicious looking kick. Before I began to know +him, I used to wonder whether it was my discourse +producing some effect upon him.</p> + +<p>I am not afraid of meeting these people in America. +Few people are bored here, all are happy to live, and +all work and are busy. American men die of brain +fever, but seldom of the gout. If an American saw +that he must spend his life wheeled in a bath-chair, he +would reflect that rivers are numerous in America, and +he would go and take a plunge into one of them.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:130px; height:93px" src="images/img267.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>255</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">Wanderings through New York—Lecture at +the Harmonie Club—Visit to the Century +Club.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>March</i> 1.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">The</span> more I see New York, the more I like +it.</p> + +<p>After lunch I had a drive through Central Park and +Riverside Park, along the Hudson, and thoroughly +enjoyed it. I returned to the Everett House through +Fifth Avenue. I have never seen Central Park in +summer, but I can realize how beautiful it must be +when the trees are clothed. To have such a park in +the heart of the city is perfectly marvelous. It is +true that, with the exception of the superb Catholic +Cathedral, Fifth Avenue has no monument worth +mentioning, but the succession of stately mansions is +a pleasant picture to the eye. What a pity this +cathedral cannot stand in a square in front of some +long thoroughfare, it would have a splendid effect. I +know this was out of the question. Built as New +York is, the cathedral could only take the place of a +block. It simply represents so many numbers between +Fiftieth and Fifty-first streets on Fifth Avenue.</p> + +<p>In the Park I saw statues of Shakespeare, Walter +Scott, and Robert Burns. I should have liked to see +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>256</span> +those of Longfellow, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and many +other celebrities of the land. Washington, Franklin, +and Lincoln are practically the only Americans whose +statues you see all over the country. They play here +the part that Wellington and Nelson play in England. +After all, the “bosses” and the local politicians who +run the towns probably never heard of Longfellow, +Bryant, Poe, etc.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>At four o’clock, Mr. Thomas Nast, the celebrated +caricaturist, called. I was delighted to make his +acquaintance, and found him a most charming man.</p> + +<p>I dined with General Horace Porter and a few other +friends at the Union League Club. The witty general +was in his best vein.</p> + +<p>At eight o’clock I lectured at the Harmonie Club, +and had a large and most appreciative audience, composed +of the pick of the Israelite community in New +York.</p> + +<p>After the lecture I attended one of the “Saturdays” +at the Century Club, and met Mr. Kendal, who, with +his talented wife, is having a triumphant progress +through the United States.</p> + +<p>There is no gathering in the world where you can +see so many beautiful, intelligent faces as at the Century +Club. There you see gathered together the +cleverest men of a nation whose chief characteristic +is cleverness.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>257</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">Visit to the Brooklyn Academy of Music—Rev. +Dr. Talmage.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>March</i> 2.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Went</span> to hear Dr. T. de Witt Talmage this morning +at the Academy of Music, Brooklyn.</p> + +<p>What an actor America has lost by Dr. Talmage +choosing the pulpit in preference to the stage!</p> + +<p>The Academy of Music was crowded. Standing-room +only. For an old-fashioned European, to see a +theater, with its boxes, stalls, galleries, open for divine +service was a strange sight; but we had not gone very +far into the service before it became plain to me that +there was nothing divine about it. The crowd had +come there, not to worship God, but to hear Mr. Talmage.</p> + +<p>At the door the programme was distributed. It consisted +of six hymns to be interluded with prayers by +the doctor. Between the fifth and sixth, he delivered +the lecture, or the sermon, if you insist on the name, +and during the sixth there was the collection, that +hinge on which the whole service turns in Protestant +places of worship.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 240px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:192px; height:320px" src="images/img271.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE LEADER OF THE CHOIR.</td></tr></table> + +<p>I took a seat and awaited with the rest the entrance +of Dr. Talmage. There was subdued conversation going +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>258</span> +on all around, just as there would be at a theater +or concert: in fact, throughout the whole of the proceedings, +there was no sign of a silent lifting up of the +spirit in worship. +Not a person in that +strange congregation, +went on his or her +knees to pray. Most +of them put one hand +in front of the face, +and this was as near +as they got that morning +to an attitude of +devotion. Except for +this, and the fact that +they did not applaud, +there was absolutely +no difference between +them and any other +theater audience I +ever saw.</p> + +<p>The monotonous +hymns were accompanied +by a <i>cornet-à-piston</i>, +which lent a +certain amount of life to them, but very little +religious harmony. That cornet was the key-note +of the whole performance. The hymns, composed, +I believe, for Dr. Talmage’s flock, are not of +high literary value. “General” Booth would +probably hesitate to include such in the <i>répertoire</i> +of the Salvation Army. Judge of them for yourself. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>259</span> +Here are three illustrations culled from the +programme:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>Sing, O sing, ye heirs of glory!</p> +<p>Shout your triumphs as you go:</p> +<p>Zion’s gates will open for you,</p> +<p>You shall find an entrance through.</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p>’Tis the promise of God, full salvation to give</p> +<p>Unto him who on Jesus, his Son, will believe.</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p>Though the pathway be lonely, and dangerous too, (<i>sic</i>)</p> +<p>Surely Jesus is able to carry me thro’.</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>This is poetry such as you find inside Christmas +crackers.</p> + +<p>Another hymn began:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p>One more day’s work for Jesus,</p> +<p>One less of life for me!</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I could not help thinking that there would be good +employment for a prophet of God, with a stout whip, +in the congregations of the so-called faithful of to-day. +I have heard them by hundreds shouting at the top of +their voices:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p>O Paradise, O Paradise!</p> + <p class="i1">’Tis weary waiting here;</p> +<p>I long to be where Jesus is,</p> + <p class="i1">To feel, to see him near.</p> +<p>O Paradise, O Paradise!</p> + <p class="i1">I greatly long to see</p> +<p>The special place my dearest Lord,</p> + <p class="i1">In love, prepares for me!</p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Knowing something of those people outside the +church doors, I have often thought what an edifying +sight it would be if the Lord deigned to listen and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>260</span> +take a few of them at their word. If the fearless +Christ were here on earth again, what crowds of cheats +and humbugs he would drive out of the Temple! And +foremost, I fancy, would go the people who, instead of +thanking their Maker who allows the blessed sun to +shine, the birds to sing, and the flowers to grow for +them here, howl and whine lies about longing for the +joy of moving on to the better world, to the “special +place” that is prepared for them. If there be a better +world, it will be too good for hypocrites.</p> + +<p>After hymn the fifth, Dr. Talmage takes the floor. +The audience settled in their seats in evident anticipation +of a good time, and it was soon clear to me that +the discourse was not to be dull at any rate. But I +waited in vain for a great thought, a lofty idea, or refined +language. There came none. Nothing but commonplaces +given out with tricks of voice and the gestures +of a consummate actor. The modulations of the +voice have been studied with care, no single platform +trick was missing.</p> + +<p>The doctor comes on the stage, which is about forty +feet wide. He begins slowly. The flow of language +is great, and he is never at a loss for a word. Motionless, +in his lowest tones, he puts a question to us. +Nobody replies, of course. Thereupon he paces wildly +up and down the whole length of the stage. Then, +bringing up in full view of his auditors, he stares at +them, crosses his arms, gives a double and tremendous +stamp on the boards, and in a terrific voice he repeats +the question, and answers it. The desired effect is +produced: he never misses fire.</p> + +<p>Being an old stager of several years’ standing myself, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>261</span> +I admire him professionally. Nobody is edified, +nobody is regenerated, nobody is improved, but all are +entertained. It is not a divine service, but it is a +clever performance, and the Americans never fail to +patronize a clever performance. All styles go down +with them. They will give a hearing to everybody +but the bore, especially on Sundays, when other forms +of entertainment are out of the running.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:352px; height:300px" src="images/img274.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE DESIRED EFFECT.</p></div> + +<p>It is not only the Brooklyn public that are treated +to the discourses of Dr. Talmage, but the whole of +America. He syndicates his sermons, and they are +published in Monday’s newspapers in all quarters of +America. I have also seen them reproduced in the +Australian papers.</p> + +<p>The delivery of these orations by Dr. Talmage is so +superior to the matter they are made of, that to read +them is slow indeed compared to hearing them. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>262</span> </p> + +<p>At the back of the programme was a flaring advertisement +of Dr. Talmage’s paper, called:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p class="center1">CHRISTIAN HERALD AND SIGNS OF OUR TIMES.</p> + +<p>A live, undenominational, illustrated Christian paper, with a +weekly circulation of fifty thousand copies, and rapidly increasing. +Every State of the Union, every Province of Canada, and every +country in the world is represented on its enormous subscription +list. Address your subscription to Mr. N., treasurer, etc.</p></div> + +<p>“Signs of our times,” indeed!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:70px" src="images/img275.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>263</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Virginia—The Hotels—The South—I will Kill +a Railway Conductor before I leave America—Philadelphia—Impressions +of the Old City.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Petersburg, Va.</i>, <i>March</i> 3.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Left</span> New York last night +and arrived here at +noon. No change +in the +scenery. +The same burnt-up fields, +the same placards all over +the land. The roofs of +houses, the trees in the forests, +the fences in the fields, all +announce to the world the magic +properties of castor oil, aperients, +and liver pills.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 420px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:368px; height:420px" src="images/img276.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">MY SUPPER.</td></tr></table> + +<p>A little village inn in the bottom +of old Brittany is a palace of +comfort compared to the best +hotel of a Virginia town. I feel +wretched. My bedroom is so +dirty that I shall not dare to +undress to-night. I have just had lunch: a piece +of tough dried-up beef, custard pie, and a glass of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>264</span> +filthy water, the whole served by an old negro on an +old, ragged, dirty table-cloth.</p> + +<p>Petersburg, which awakes so many souvenirs of the +War of Secession, is a pretty town scattered with +beautiful villas. It strikes one as a provincial town. +To me, coming from the busy North, it looks asleep. +The South has not yet recovered from its disasters of +thirty years ago. That is what struck me most, when, +two years ago, I went through Virginia, Carolina, and +Georgia.</p> + +<p>Now and then American eccentricity reveals itself. +I have just seen a church built on the model of a Greek +temple, and surmounted with a pointed spire lately +added. Just imagine to yourself Julius Cæsar with +his toga and buskin on, and having a chimney-top hat +on his head.</p> + +<p>The streets seemed deserted, dead.</p> + +<p>To my surprise, the Opera House was crowded to-night. +The audience was fashionable and appreciative, +but very cool, almost as cool as in Connecticut and +Maine.</p> + +<p>Heaven be praised! a gentleman invited me to have +supper at a club after the lecture.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 4.</p> + +<p>I am sore all over. I spent the night on the bed, +outside, in my day clothes, and am bruised all over. I +have pains in my gums too. Oh, that piece of beef +yesterday! I am off to Philadelphia. My bill at the +hotel amounts to $1.50. Never did I pay so much +through the nose for what I had through the mouth.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>265</span> </p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Philadelphia</i>, <i>March</i> 4.</p> + +<p>Before I return to Europe I will kill a railway conductor.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:302px; height:430px" src="images/img278.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“IMAGINE JULIUS CÆSAR WITH A BIG HAT.”</p></div> + +<p>From Petersburg to Richmond I was the only occupant +of the parlor car. It was bitterly cold. The +conductor of the train came in the smoke-room, and +took a seat. I suppose it was his right, although I +doubt it, for he was not the conductor attached to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>266</span> +parlor car. He opened the window. The cold, icy air +fell on my legs, or (to use a more proper expression, as I +am writing in Philadelphia) on my lower limbs. I said +nothing, but rose and closed the window. The fellow +frowned, rose, and opened the window again.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me,” I said; “I thought that perhaps you +had come here to look after my comfort. If you +have not I will look after it myself.” And I rose and +closed the window.</p> + +<p>“I want the window open,” said the conductor, and +he prepared to re-open it, giving me a mute, impudent +scowl.</p> + +<p>I was fairly roused. Nature has gifted me with a +biceps and a grip of remarkable power. I seized the +man by the collar of his coat.</p> + +<p>“As true as I am alive,” I exclaimed, “if you open +this window, I will pitch you out of it.” And I prepared +for war. The cur sneaked away and made an +exit compared to which a whipped hound’s would be +majestic.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I am at the Bellevue, a delightful hotel. My friend +Wilson Barrett is here, and I have come to spend the +day with him. He is playing every night to crowded +houses, and after each performance he has to make a +speech. This is his third visit to Philadelphia. During +the first visit, he tells me that the audience wanted +a speech after each act.</p> + +<p>It is always interesting to compare notes with a +friend who has been over the same ground as yourself. +So I was eager to hear Mr. Wilson Barrett’s impressions +of his long tour in the States. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>267</span> </p> + +<p>Several points we both agreed perfectly upon at +once; the charming geniality and good-fellowship of +the best Americans, the brilliancy and naturalness of +the ladies, the wonderful intelligence and activity of +the people, and the wearing monotony of life on the +road.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:346px; height:340px" src="images/img280.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE WHIPPED CONDUCTOR.</p></div> + +<p>After the scene in the train, I was interested, too, to +find that the train conductors—those mute, magnificent +monarchs of the railroad—had awakened in Mr. Barrett +much the same feeling as in myself. We Europeans +are used to a form of obedience or, at least, deference +from our paid servants, and the arrogant attitude of +the American wage-earner first amazes, and then enrages +us—when we have not enough humor, or good-humor, +to get some amusement out it. It is so novel +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>268</span> +to be tyrannized over by people whom you pay to +attend to your comfort! The American keeps his +temper under the process, for he is the best-humored +fellow in the world. Besides, a small squabble is no +more in his line than a small anything else. It is not +worth his while. The Westerner may pull out a pistol +and shoot you if you annoy him, but neither he nor +the Eastern man will wrangle for mastery.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:378px; height:430px" src="images/img281.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A BOSS.</p></div> + +<p>If such was not the case, do you believe for a moment +that the Americans would submit to the rule of +the “Rings,” the “Leaders,” and the “Bosses”?</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I like Philadelphia, with its magnificent park, its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>269</span> +beautiful houses that look like homes. It is not brand +new, like the rest of America.</p> + +<p>My friend, Mr. J. M. Stoddart, editor of <i>Lippincott’s +Magazine</i>, has kindly chaperoned me all the day.</p> + +<p>I visited in detail the State House, Independence +Square. These words evoke sentiments of patriotism +in the hearts of the Americans. Here was the bell +that “proclaimed liberty throughout the Colonies” so +loudly that it split. It was on the 8th of July, 1776, +that the bell was rung, as the public reading of the +Declaration of Independence took place in the State +House on that day, +and there were great +rejoicings. John +Adams, writing to +Samuel Chase on the +9th of July, said: +“The bell rang all +day, and almost all +night.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 310px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:255px; height:320px" src="images/img282.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE OLD LIBERTY BELL.</td></tr></table> + +<p>It is recorded by +one writer that, on +the 4th of July, when +the motion to adopt +the declaration +passed the majority +of the Assembly, although +not signed +by all the delegates, the old bell-ringer awaited anxiously, +with trembling hope, the signing. He kept saying: +“They’ll never do it, they’ll never do it!” but his +eyes expanded, and his grasp grew firm when the voice +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>270</span> +of a blue-eyed youth reached his ears in shouts of triumph +as he flew up the stairs of the tower, shouting: +“Ring, grandpa, ring; they’ve signed!”</p> + +<p>What a day this old “Liberty Bell” reminds you +of!</p> + +<p>There, in the Independence Hall, the delegates were +gathered. Benjamin Harrison, the ancestor of the +present occupier of the White House, seized John +Hancock, upon whose head a price was set, in his arms, +and placing him in the presidential chair, said: “We +will show Mother Britain how little we care for her, by +making our president a Massachusetts man, whom she +has excluded from pardon by public proclamation,” +and, says Mr. Chauncey M. Depew in one of his beautiful +orations, when they were signing the Declaration, +and the slender Elbridge Gerry uttered the grim pleasantry, +“We must hang together, or surely we will hang +separately,” the portly Harrison responded with more +daring humor, “It will be all over with me in a moment, +but you will be +kicking in the air half +an hour after I am +gone.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 350px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:302px; height:220px" src="images/img283.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE INKSTAND.</td></tr></table> + +<p>The National Museum +is the auxiliary +chamber to Independence +Hall, and there +you find many most +interesting relics of Colonial +and Revolutionary +days: the silver inkstand used in signing the +famous Declaration; Hancock’s chair; the little table +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>271</span> +upon which the document was signed, and hundreds +of souvenirs piously preserved by generations of +grateful Americans.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>It is said that Philadelphia has produced only two +successful men, Mr. Wanamaker, the great dry-goods-store +man, now a member of President Benjamin Harrison’s +Cabinet, and Mr. George W. Childs, proprietor +of the Philadelphia <i>Public Ledger</i>, one of the most important +and successful newspapers in the United States.</p> + +<p>I went to Mr. Wanamaker’s dry-goods-store, an establishment +strongly reminding you of the Paris <i>Bon +Marché</i>, or Mr. Whiteley’s warehouses in London.</p> + +<p>By far the most interesting visit was that which I +paid to Mr. George W. Childs in his study at the <i>Public +Ledger’s</i> offices. It would require a whole volume to +describe in detail all the treasures that Mr. Childs has +accumulated: curios of all kinds, rare books, manuscripts +and autographs, portraits, china, relics from the +celebrities of the world, etc. Mr. Childs, like the +Prussians during their unwelcome visit to France in +1870, has a strong <i>penchant</i> for clocks. Indeed his collection +is the most remarkable in existence. His study +is a beautiful <i>sanctum sanctorum</i>; it is also a museum +that not only the richest lover of art would be proud to +possess, but that any nation would be too glad to acquire, +if it could be acquired; but Mr. Childs is a very +wealthy man, and he means to keep it, and, I understand, +to hand it over to his successor in the ownership +of the <i>Public Ledger</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. George W. Childs is a man of about fifty years +of age, short and plump, with a most kind and amiable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>272</span> +face. His munificence and philanthropy are well +known and, as I understand his character, I believe he +would not think much of my gratitude to him for the +kindness he showed me if I dwelt on them in these +pages.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Thanks to my kind friends, every minute has been +occupied visiting some interesting place, or meeting +some interesting people. I shall lecture here next +month, and shall look forward to the pleasure of being +in Philadelphia again.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:514px; height:400px" src="images/img285.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">WHEN IRELAND IS FREE.</p></div> + +<p>At the Union League Club I met Mr. Rufus E. +Shapley, who kindly gave me a copy of his clever and +witty political satire, “Solid for Mulhooly,” illustrated +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>273</span> +by Mr. Thomas Nast. I should advise any one who +would understand how Jonathan is ruled municipally, +to peruse this little book. It gives the history of +Pat’s rise from the Irish cabin in Connaught to the +City Hall of the large American cities.</p> + +<p>“When one man,” says Mr. Shapley, “owns and dominates +four wards or counties, he becomes a leader. +Half a dozen such leaders combined constitute what is +called a Ring. When one leader is powerful enough +to bring three or four such leaders under his yoke, +he becomes a Boss; and a Boss wields a power almost +as absolute, while it lasts, as that of the Czar of Russia +or the King of Zululand.”</p> + +<p>Extracts from this book would not do it justice. It +should be read in its entirety. I read it with all the +more pleasure that, in “Jonathan and His Continent,” +I ventured to say: “The English are always wondering +why Americans all seem to be in favor of Home +Rule, and ready to back up the cause with their dollars. +Why? I will tell you. Because they are in hopes +that, when the Irish recover the possession of Ireland, +they will all go home.”</p> + +<p>A foreigner who criticises a nation is happy to see +his opinions shared by the natives.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:108px" src="images/img286.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>274</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">My Ideas of the State of Texas—Why I Will +Not Go There—The Story of a Frontier Man.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>March</i> 5.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Have</span> had cold audiences in Maine and Connecticut; +and indifferent ones in several cities, +while I have been warmly received in many others. +It seems that, if I went to Texas, I might get it +hot.</p> + +<p>I have received to-day a Texas paper containing a +short editorial marked at the four corners in blue pencil. +Impossible not to see it. The editorial abuses +me from the first line to the last. When there appears +in a paper an article, or even only a short paragraph, +abusing you, you never run the risk of not seeing it. +There always is, somewhere, a kind friend who will +post it to you. He thinks you may be getting a little +conceited, and he forwards the article to you, that you +may use it as wholesome physic. It does him good, +and does you no harm.</p> + +<p>The article in question begins by charging me with +having turned America and the Americans into ridicule, +goes on wondering that the Americans can receive me +so well everywhere, and, after pitching into me right +and left, winds up by warning me that, if I should go +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>275</span> +to Texas, I might for a change meet with a hot reception.</p> + +<p>A shot, perhaps.</p> + +<p>A shot in Texas! No, no, no.</p> + +<p>I won’t go to Texas. I should strongly object +to being shot anywhere, but especially in Texas, +where the event would attract so little public +attention.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:317px; height:340px" src="images/img288.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“A SHOT IN TEXAS.”</p></div> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Yet, I should have liked to go to Texas, for was it +not from that State that, after the publication of +“Jonathan and His Continent,” I received the two +following letters, which I have kept among my treasures? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>276</span> </p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p class="sc">Dear Sir:</p> + +<p>I have read your book on America and greatly enjoyed it. +Please to send me your autograph. I enclose a ten-cent piece. +The postage will cost you five cents. Don’t trouble about the +change.</p> + +<p class="sc">My Dear Sir:</p> + +<p>I have an album containing the photographs of many well-known +people from Europe as well as from America. I should +much like to add yours to the number. If you will send it to me, I +will send you mine and that of my wife in return.</p></div> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>And I also imagine that there must be in Texas a +delightful primitiveness of manners and good-fellowship.</p> + +<p>A friend once related to me the following reminiscence:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>I arrived one evening in a little Texas town, and asked for a +bedroom at the hotel.</p> + +<p>There was no bedroom to be had, but only a bed in a double-bedded +room.</p> + +<p>“Will that suit you?” said the clerk.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know,” I said hesitatingly. “Who is the +other?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right,” said the clerk, “you may set your mind at +rest on that subject.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” I replied, “I will take that bed.”</p> + +<p>At about ten o’clock, as I was preparing to go to bed, my bedroom +companion entered. It was a frontier man in full uniform: +Buffalo Bill hat, leather leggings, a belt accommodating a couple +of revolvers—no baggage of any kind.</p> + +<p>I did not like it.</p> + +<p>“Hallo, stranger,” said the man, “how are you?”</p> + +<p>“I’m pretty well,” I replied, without meaning a word of it.</p> + +<p>The frontier man undressed, that is to say, took off his boots, +placed the two revolvers under his pillows and lay down. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>277</span> </p> + +<p>I liked it less and less.</p> + +<p>By and by, we both went to sleep. In the morning we woke up +at the same time. He rose, dressed—that is to say, put on his +boots, and wished me good-morning.</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:377px; height:430px" src="images/img290.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">MY ROOM-MATE.</p></div> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>The hall porter came with letters for my companion, but none +for me. I thought I should like to let that man know I had no +money with me. So I said to him: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>278</span> </p> + +<p>“I am very much disappointed. I expected some money from +New York, and it has not come.”</p> + +<p>“I hope it will come,” he replied.</p> + +<p>I did not like that hope.</p> + +<p>In the evening, we met again. He undressed—you know, went +to sleep, rose early in the morning, dressed—you know.</p> + +<p>The porter came again with letters for him and none for me.</p> + +<p>“Well, your money has not come,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I see it has not. I’m afraid I’m going to be in a fix what to +do.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going away this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Are you?” I said. “I’m sorry to part with you.”</p> + +<p>The frontier man took a little piece of paper and wrote something +on it.</p> + +<p>“Take this, my friend,” he said; “it may be useful to you.”</p> + +<p>It was a check for a hundred dollars.</p> + +<p>I could have gone down on my knees, as I refused the check +and asked that man’s pardon.</p></div> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I lectured in Brooklyn to-night, and am off to the +West to-morrow morning.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:63px" src="images/img291.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>279</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Cincinnati—The Town—The Suburbs—A German +City—“Over the Rhine”—What is a +Good Patriot?—An Impressive Funeral—A +Great Fire—How It Appeared to Me, and +How It Appeared to the Newspaper Reporters.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Cincinnati</i>, <i>March</i> 7.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">My</span> arrival in Cincinnati this morning was anything +but triumphal.</p> + +<p>On leaving the car, I gave my check to a cab-driver, +who soon came to inform me that my valise was +broken. It was a leather one, and on being thrown +from the baggage-van on the platform, it burst open, +and all my things were scattered about. In England +or in France, half a dozen porters would have immediately +come to the rescue, but here the porter +is practically unknown. Three or four men belonging +to the company gathered round, but, neither out +of complaisance nor in the hope of gain, did any of +them offer his services. They looked on, laughed, and +enjoyed the scene. I daresay the betting was brisk as +to whether I should succeed in putting my things +together or not. Thanks to a leather strap I had in +my bag, I managed to bind the portmanteau and have +it placed on the cab that drove to the Burnet House. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>280</span> </p> + +<p>Immediately after registering my name, I went to +buy an American trunk, that is to say, an iron-bound +trunk, to place my things in safety. I have been told +that trunk makers give a commission to the railway +and transfer baggagemen who, having broken trunks, +recommend their owners to go to such and such a +place to buy new ones. This goes a long way toward +explaining the way in which baggage is treated in +America.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:418px; height:320px" src="images/img293.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">MY BROKEN VALISE.</p></div> + +<p>On arriving in the dining-room, I was surprised to +see the glasses of all the guests filled with lemonade. +“Why,” thought I, “here is actually an hotel which +is not like all the other hotels.” The lemonade turned +out to be water from the Ohio River. I could not help +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>281</span> +feeling grateful for a change; any change, even that +of the color of water. Anybody who has traveled +a great deal in America will appreciate the +remark.</p> + +<p>Cincinnati is built at the bottom of a funnel from +which rise hundreds of chimneys vomiting fire and +smoke. From the neighboring heights, the city looks +like a huge furnace, and so it is, a furnace of industry +and activity. It reminded me of Glasgow.</p> + +<p>If the city itself is anything but attractive, the residential +parts are perfectly lovely. I have seen nothing +in America that surpasses Burnet Wood, situated on +the bordering heights of the town, scattered with +beautiful villas, and itself a mixture of a wilderness +and a lovely park. A kind friend drove me for three +hours through the entire neighborhood, giving me, in +American fashion, the history of the owner of each +residence we passed. Here was the house of Mr. A., +or rather Mr. A. B. C, every American having three +names. He came to the city twenty years ago without +a dollar. Five years later he had five millions. +He speculated and lost all, went to Chicago and made +millions, which he afterward lost. Now again he has +several millions, and so on. This is common enough in +America. By and by, we passed the most beautiful of +all the villas of Burnet Wood—the house of the Oil +King, Mr. Alexander Macdonald, one of those wonderfully +successful men, such as Scotland alone can +boast all the world over. America has been a great +field for the display of Scotch intelligence and industry.</p> + +<p>After visiting the pretty museum at Eden Park, a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>282</span> +museum organized in 1880 in consequence of Mr. +Charles W. West’s offer to give $150,000 for that purpose, +and already in possession of very good works of +art and many valuable treasures, we returned to the +city and stopped at the Public Library. Over 200,000 +volumes, representing all the branches of science and +literature, are there, as well as a collection of all the +newspapers of the world, placed in chronological order +on the shelves and neatly bound. I believe that this +collection of newspapers and that of Washington are +the two best known. In the public reading-room, +hundreds of people are running over the newspapers +from Europe and all the principal cities of the United +States. My best thanks are due to Mr. Whelpley, the +librarian, for his kindness in conducting me all over +this interesting place. Upstairs I was shown the +room where the members of the Council of Education +hold their sittings. The room was all topsy-turvey. +Twenty-six desks and twenty-six chairs was about all +the furniture of the room. In a corner, piled up together, +were the cuspidores. I counted. Twenty-six. +Right.</p> + +<p>After thanking my kind pilot, I returned to the +Burnet House to read the evening papers. I read that +the next day I was to breakfast with Mr. A., lunch +with Mr. B., and dine with Mr. C. The <i>menu</i> was not +published. I take it for granted that this piece of +intelligence is quite interesting to the readers of Cincinnati.</p> + +<p>My evening being free, I looked at the column of +amusements. The first did not tempt me, it was +this: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>283</span> </p> + +<p class="center1">THE KING OF THE SWAMPS.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p class="center"><i>The Only and the Original.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">English Jack.</span><br /> + +THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE FROG MAN.</p> + +<p>He makes a frog pond of his stomach by eating living frogs. An +appetite created by life in the swamps. He is so fond of this sort +of food that he takes the pretty creatures by the hind legs, and before +they can say their prayers they are inside out of the cold.</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:294px; height:330px" src="images/img296.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“THE KING OF THE SWAMPS.”</p></div> + +<p>The next advertisement was that of a variety show, +that most stupid form of entertainment so popular in +America; the next was the announcement of pugilists, +and another one that of a “most sensational drama, in +which ‘one of the most emotional actresses’ in +America” was to appear, supported by “one of the +most powerful casts ever gathered together in the +world.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>284</span> </p> + +<p>The superlatives, in American advertisements, have +long ceased to have the slightest effect upon me.</p> + +<p>The advertisement of another “show” ran thus: I +beg to reproduce it in its entirety; indeed it would be +a sacrilege to meddle with it.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p class="center1">TO THE PUBLIC.</p> + +<p><i>My Friends and Former Patrons</i>: I have now been before +the public for the past seventeen years, and am perhaps too well +known to require further evidence of my character and integrity +than my past life and record will show. Fifteen years ago I inaugurated +the system of dispensing presents to the public, believing +that a fair share of my profits could thus honestly be returned +to my patrons. At the outset, and ever since, it has been my aim +to deal honestly toward the multitude who have given me patronage. +Since that time many imitators have undertaken to beguile +the public, with but varying success. Many unprincipled rascals +have also appeared upon the scene, men without talent, but far-reaching +talons, who by specious promises have sought to swindle +all whom they could inveigle. This class of scoundrels do not hesitate +to make promises that they cannot and never intend to fulfill, +and should be frowned down by all honest men. They deceive the +public, leave a bad impression, and thus injure legitimate exhibitions. +Every promise I make will be faithfully fulfilled, as experience +has clearly proven that dealing uprightly with the public +brings its sure reward. All who visit my beautiful entertainment +may rely upon the same fair dealing which has been my life-long +policy, and which has always honored me with crowded houses.</p> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> + +<table class="nobctr" width="70%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td class="tcl">NEW UNIQUE PASTIMES.</td> <td class="tcl">NEW HARMLESS MIRTH.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">NEW COSTLY WONDERS.</td> <td class="tcl">NEW FAMOUS ARTISTS.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">NEW PLEASANT STUDIES.</td> <td class="tcl">NEW INNOCENT FUN.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">NEW POPULAR MUSIC.</td> <td class="tcl">NEW KNOWLEDGE.</td></tr></table> + +<p class="center1"><i>Special Notice.</i></p> + +<p>Ladies and Children are especially Invited to Attend this Entertainment. +We Guarantee it to be Chaste, Pure, and as Wholesome +and Innocent as it is Amusing and Laughable.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>285</span></p> + +<p>Finally I decided on going to see a German tragedy. +I did not understand it, but the acting seemed to me +good.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:312px; height:400px" src="images/img298.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A GERMAN TRAGEDY.</p></div> + +<p>Like Milwaukee, Cincinnati possesses a very strong +German element. Indeed a whole part of the city is +entirely inhabited by a German population, and situated +on one side of the water. When you cross the bridge +in its direction, you are going “over the Rhine,” to +use the local expression. “To go over the Rhine” of +an evening means to go to one of the many German +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>286</span> +<i>Brauerei</i>, and have sausages and Bavarian beer for +supper.</p> + +<p>The town is a very prosperous one. The Germans +in America are liked for their steadiness and industry. +An American friend even told me that the Germans +were perhaps the best patriots the United States could +boast of.</p> + +<p>Patriots! The word sounded strangely to my ears. +I may be prejudiced, but I call a good patriot a man +who loves his own mother country. You may like the +land of your adoption, but you love the land of your +birth. Good patriots! I call a good brother a man +who loves his sister, not other people’s sisters.</p> + +<p>The Germans apply for their naturalization papers +the day after they have landed. I should admire their +patriotism much more if they waited a little longer before +they changed their own mother for a step-mother.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 8.</p> + +<p>I witnessed a most impressive ceremony this morning, +the funeral of the American Minister Plenipotentiary +to the Court of Berlin, whose body was brought +from Germany to his native place a few days ago. No +soldiers ordered to accompany the <i>cortège,</i> no uniforms, +but thousands of people voluntarily doing honor to +the remains of a talented and respected fellow-citizen +and townsman: a truly republican ceremony in its simplicity +and earnestness.</p> + +<p>The coffin was taken to the Music Hall, a new and +beautiful building capable of accommodating thousands +of people, and placed on the platform amid evergreens +and the Stars and Stripes. In a few minutes, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>287</span> +the hall, decorated with taste but with appropriate +simplicity, was packed from floor to ceiling. Some +notables and friends of the late Minister sat on the +platform around the coffin, and the mayor, in the name +of the inhabitants of the city, delivered a speech, a +eulogistic funeral oration, on the deceased diplomatist. +All parties were represented in the hall, Republicans +and Democrats alike had come. America admits no +party feeling, no recollection of political differences, to +intrude upon the homage she gratefully renders to the +memory of her illustrious dead.</p> + +<p>The mayor’s speech, listened to by the crowd in respectful +silence, was much like all the speeches delivered +on such occasions, including the indispensable +sentence that “he knew he could safely affirm that the +deceased had never made any enemies.” When I hear +a man spoken of, after his death, as never having +made any enemies, as a Christian I admire him, but I +also come to the conclusion that he must have been a +very insignificant member of the community. But the +phrase, I should remember, is a mere piece of flattery +to the dead, in a country where death puts a stop to +all enmity, political enmity especially. The same +would be done in England, and almost everywhere. +Not in France, however, where the dead continue to +have implacable enemies for many years after they have +left the lists.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>The afternoon was pleasantly spent visiting the +town hall and the remarkable china manufactories, +which turn out very pretty, quaint, and artistic pottery. +The evening brought to the Odéon a fashionable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page288" id="page288"></a>288</span> +and most cultivated audience. I am invited to +pay a return visit to this city. I shall look forward to +the pleasure of lecturing here again in April.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 9.</p> + +<p>Spent a most agreeable Sunday in the hospitable +house of M. Fredin, the French consular agent, and +his amiable and talented wife. M. Fredin was kind +enough to call yesterday at the Burnet House.</p> + +<p>As a rule, I never call on the representatives of +France in my travels abroad. If I traveled as a tourist, +I would; but traveling as a lecturer, I should be +afraid lest the object of my visits might be misconstrued, +and taken as a gentle hint to patronize me.</p> + +<p>One day I had a good laugh with a French consul, +in an English town where I came to lecture. On arriving +at the hall I found a letter from this diplomatic +compatriot, in which he expressed his surprise that I +had not apprised him of my arrival. The next morning, +before leaving the town, I called on him. He +welcomed me most gracefully.</p> + +<p>“Why did you not let me, your consul, know that +you were coming?” he said to me.</p> + +<p>“Well, Monsieur le Consul,” I replied, “suppose I +wrote to you: ‘Monsieur le Consul, I shall arrive at +N. on Friday,’ and suppose, now, just suppose, that +you answered me, ‘Sir, I am glad to hear you will +arrive here on Friday, but what on earth is that to +me?’”</p> + +<p>He saw the point at once. A Frenchman always +does.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289"></a>289</span> </p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 10.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 320px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:274px; height:320px" src="images/img302.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">A VARIETY ACTOR.</td></tr></table> + +<p>I like this land of conjuring. This morning I took +the street car to go on the Burnet Hills. At the foot +of the hill the car—horses, and all—enters a little house. +The house climbs the hill vertically by means of cables. +Arrived at the top of the mountain, the car comes out +of the little house and goes on its way, just as if absolutely +nothing had happened. To return to town, I +went down the hill in +the same fashion. +But if the cable should +break, you will exclaim, +where would +you be? Ah, there +you are! It does +not break. It did +once, so now they see +that it does not again.</p> + +<p>In the evening +there was nothing to +see except variety +shows and wrestlers. +There was a variety +show which tempted +me, the Hermann’s Vaudevilles. I saw on the +list of attractions the name of my friend and compatriot, +F. Trewey, the famous shadowgraphist, +and I concluded that if the other artistes were as +good in their lines as he is in his, it would be well +worth seeing. The show was very good of its kind, +and Trewey was admirable; but the audience were +not refined, and it was not his most subtle and artistic +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290" id="page290"></a>290</span> +tricks that they applauded most, but the broader +and more striking ones. After the show he and I +went “over the Rhine.” You know what it means.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 11, 9 <i>a. m.</i></p> + +<p>For a long time I had wished to see the wonderful +American fire brigades at work. The wish has now +been satisfied.</p> + +<p>At half-past one this morning I was roused in my +bed by the galloping of horses and the shouts of people +in the street. Huge tongues of fire were licking my +window, and the heat in the room was intense. Indeed, +all around me seemed to be in a blaze, and I +took it for granted that the Burnet House was on fire. +I rose and dressed quickly, put together the few valuables +that were in my possession, and prepared to +make for the street. I soon saw, however, that it +was a block of houses opposite that was on fire, or +rather the corner house of that block.</p> + +<p>The guests of the hotel were in the corridors ready +for any emergency. Had there been any wind in our +direction, the hotel was doomed. The night was calm +and wet. As soon as we became aware that no lives +were lost or in danger in the burning building, and +that it would only be a question of insurance money +to be paid by some companies, we betook ourselves to +admire the magnificent sight. For it was a magnificent +sight, this whole large building, the prey of +flames coming in torrents out of every window, the +dogged perseverance of the firemen streaming floods +of water over the roof and through the windows, the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page291" id="page291"></a>291</span> +salvage corps men penetrating through the flames +into the building in the hope of receiving the next day +a commission on all the goods and valuables saved. +A fierce battle it was between a brute element and +man. By three o’clock the element was conquered, +but only the four walls of the building remained, which +proved to me that, with all their wonderful promptitude +and gallantry, all firemen can do when flames +have got firm hold on a building is to save the adjoining +property.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:327px; height:400px" src="images/img304.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A FIRE YARN.</p></div> + +<p>I listened to the different groups of people in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page292" id="page292"></a>292</span> +hotel. Some gave advice as to how the firemen should +set about their work, or criticised. Others related the +big fires they had witnessed, a few indulging in the +recital of the exploits they performed thereat. There +are a good many Gascons among the Americans. At +four o’clock all danger was over, and we all retired.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:402px; height:430px" src="images/img305.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AS WE SAW IT.</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:348px; height:430px" src="images/img306.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">AS THE REPORTERS SAW IT.</p></div> + +<p>I was longing to read the descriptions of the fire in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293" id="page293"></a>293</span> +this morning’s papers. I have now read them and am +not at all disappointed. On the contrary, they are +beyond my most sanguine expectations. Wonderful; +simply perfectly wonderful! I am now trying to +persuade myself that I really saw all that the reporters +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page294" id="page294"></a>294</span> +saw, and that I really ran great danger last night. +For, “at every turn,” it appears, “the noble hotel +seemed as if it must become the prey of the fierce +element, and could only be saved by a miracle.” +Columns and columns of details most graphically +given, sensational, blood-curdling. But all that is +nothing. You should read about the panic, and the +scenes of wild confusion in the Burnet House, when +all the good folks, who had all dressed and were looking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page295" id="page295"></a>295</span> +quietly at the fire from the windows, are described +as a crowd of people in despair: women disheveled, in +their night-dresses, running wild, and throwing themselves +in the arms of men to seek protection, and all +shrieking and panic-stricken. Such a scene of confusion +and terror you can hardly imagine. Wonderful!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:441px; height:430px" src="images/img307.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE FIREMAN.</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:121px" src="images/img308.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page296" id="page296"></a>296</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">A Journey if you Like—Terrible Encounter +with an American Interviewer.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>In the train to Brushville</i>, <i>March</i> 11.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Left</span> Cincinnati this morning at ten o’clock and +shall not arrive at Brushville before seven o’clock +to-night. I am beginning to learn how to speak +American. As I asked for my ticket this morning at +the railroad office, the clerk said to me:</p> + +<p>“C. H. D. or C. C. C. St. L. and St. P.?”</p> + +<p>“C. H. D.,” I replied, with perfect assurance.</p> + +<p>I happened to hit on the right line for Brushville.</p> + +<p>By this time I know pretty well all those combinations +of the alphabet by which the different railroad +lines of America are designated.</p> + +<p>No hope of comfort or of a dinner to-day. I shall +have to change trains three times, but none of them, I +am grieved to hear, have parlor cars or dining cars. +There is something democratic about uniform cars for +all alike. I am a democrat myself, yet I have a weakness +for the parlor cars—and the dining cars.</p> + +<p>At noon we stopped five minutes at a place which, +two years ago, counted six wooden huts. To-day it +has more than 5000 inhabitants, the electric light in +the streets, a public library, two hotels, four churches, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page297" id="page297"></a>297</span> +two banks, a public school, a high school, cuspidores, +toothpicks, and all the signs of American civilization.</p> + +<p>I changed trains at one o’clock at Castle Green +Junction. No hotel in the place. I inquired where +food could be obtained. A little wooden hut, on the +other side of the depot, bearing the inscription +“Lunch Room,” was pointed out to me. <i>Lunch</i> in +America has not the meaning that it has in England, +as I often experienced to my despair. The English +are solid people. In England <i>lunch</i> means something. +In America, it does not. However, as there was no +<i>Beware</i> written outside, I entered the place. Several +people were eating +pies, fruit +pies, pies with +crust under, and +crust over: +sealed mysteries.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 370px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:322px; height:250px" src="images/img310.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“PEACH POY AND APPLE POY.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>“I want something +to eat,” +I said to a man +behind the +counter, who +was in possession +of only one eye, and hailed from Old Oireland.</p> + +<p>“What ’d ye loike?” replied he, winking with the +eye that was not there.</p> + +<p>“Well, what have you got?”</p> + +<p>“Peach poy, apricot poy, apple poy, and mince +poy.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298" id="page298"></a>298</span> </p> + +<p>“And, shure, what more do you want?”</p> + +<p>I have always suspected something mysterious about +mince pies. At home, I eat mince pies. I also +trust my friends’ cooks. Outside, I pass. I think +that mince pies and sausages should be made at home.</p> + +<p>“I like a little variety,” I said to the Irishman, +“give me a small slice of apple pie, one of apricot pie, +and another of peach pie.”</p> + +<p>The Irishman stared at me.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with the mince poy?” he +seemed to say.</p> + +<p>I could see from his eye that he resented the insult +offered to his mince pies.</p> + +<p>I ate my pies and returned on the platform. I was +told that the train was two hours behind time, and I +should be too late to catch the last Brushville train at +the next change.</p> + +<p>I walked and smoked.</p> + +<p>The three pies began to get acquainted with each +other.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Brushville</i>, <i>March</i> 12.</p> + +<p>Oh, those pies!</p> + +<p>At the last change yesterday, I arrived too late. +The last Brushville train was gone.</p> + +<p>The pies were there.</p> + +<p>A fortune I would have given for a dinner and a bed, +which now seemed more problematic than ever.</p> + +<p>I went to the station-master.</p> + +<p>“Can I have a special train to take me to Brushville +to-night?”</p> + +<p>“A hundred dollars.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page299" id="page299"></a>299</span> </p> + +<p>“How much for a locomotive alone?”</p> + +<p>“Sixty dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Have you a freight train going to Brushville?”</p> + +<p>“What will you do with it?”</p> + +<p>“Board it.”</p> + +<p>“Board it! I can’t stop the train.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take my chance.”</p> + +<p>“Your life is insured?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; for a great deal more than it is worth.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he said, “I’ll let you do it for five +dollars.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 310px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:258px; height:250px" src="images/img312.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">ON THE ROAD TO BRUSHVILLE.</td></tr></table> + +<p>And he looked as if he was going to enjoy the fun. +The freight train arrived, slackened speed, and I +boarded, with my portmanteau +and my umbrella, +a car loaded +with timber. I placed +my handbag on the +timber—you know, +the one I had when +traveling in “the +neighborhood of Chicago”—sat +on it, +opened my umbrella, +and waved a “tata” +to the station-master.</p> + +<p>It was raining fast, +and I had a journey of some thirty miles to make +at the rate of about twelve miles an hour.</p> + +<p>Oh, those pies! They now seemed to have resolved +to fight it out. <i>Sacrebleu! De bleu! de bleu!</i></p> + +<p>A few miles from Brushville I had to get out, or +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300" id="page300"></a>300</span> +rather, get down, and take a ticket for Brushville on +board a local train.</p> + +<p>Benumbed with cold, wet through, and famished, I +arrived here at ten o’clock last night. The peach pie, +the apple pie, and the apricot pie had settled their differences +and become on friendly and accommodating +terms.</p> + +<p>I was able, on arriving at the hotel, to enjoy some +light refreshments, which I only obtained, at that time +of night, thanks to the manager, whom I had the pleasure +of knowing personally.</p> + +<p>At eleven o’clock I went to bed, or, to use a more +proper expression for my Philadelphia readers, I +retired.</p> + +<p>I had been “retiring” for about half an hour, when +I heard a knock at the door.</p> + +<p>“Who’s there?” I grumbled from under the bedclothes.</p> + +<p>“A representative of the Brushville <i>Express</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said I, “I am very sorry—but I’m asleep.”</p> + +<p>“Please let me in; I won’t detain you very long.”</p> + +<p>“I guess you won’t. Now, please do not insist. I +am tired, upset, ill, and I want rest. Come to-morrow +morning.”</p> + +<p>“No, I can’t do that,” answered the voice behind +the door; “my paper appears in the morning, and I +want to put in something about you.”</p> + +<p>“Now, do go away,” I pleaded, “there’s a good +fellow.”</p> + +<p>“I must see you,” insisted the voice.</p> + +<p>“You go!” I cried, “you go——” without mentioning +any place. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page301" id="page301"></a>301</span> </p> + +<p>For a couple of minutes there was silence, and I +thought the interviewer was gone. The illusion was +sweet, but short. There was another knock, followed +by a “I really must see you to-night.” Seeing that +there would be no peace until I had let the reporter +in, I unbolted the door, and jumped back into my—you +know.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:450px; height:330px" src="images/img314.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE INTERVIEWER.</p></div> + +<p>It was pitch dark.</p> + +<p>The door opened; and I heard the interviewer’s steps +in the room. By and by, the sound of a pocket being +searched was distinct. It was his own. A match was +pulled out and struck; the premises examined and +reconnoitered.</p> + +<p>A chandelier with three lights hung in the middle of +the room. The reporter, speechless and solemn, +lighted one burner, then two, then three, chose the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page302" id="page302"></a>302</span> +most comfortable seat, and installed himself in it, +looking at me with an air of triumph.</p> + +<p>I was sitting up, wild and desheveled, in my “retiring” +clothes.</p> + +<p>“<i>Que voulez-vous?</i>” I wanted to yell, my state +of drowsiness allowing me to think only in French.</p> + +<p>Instead of translating this query by “What do you +want?” as I should have done, if I had been in the +complete enjoyment of my intellectual faculties, I +shouted to him:</p> + +<p>“What will you have?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thanks, I’m not particular,” he calmly replied. +“I’ll have a little whisky and soda—rye whisky, +please.”</p> + +<p>My face must have been a study as I rang for +whisky and soda.</p> + +<p>The mixture was brought—for two.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have no objection to my smoking?” +coolly said the man in the room.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” I remarked; “this is perfectly lovely; +I enjoy it all.”</p> + +<p>He pulled out his pocket-book and his pencil, crossed +his legs, and having drawn a long whiff from his cigar, +he said:</p> + +<p>“I see that you have no lecture to deliver in Brushville; +may I ask you what you have come here for?”</p> + +<p>“Now,” said I, “what the deuce is that to you? If +this is the kind of questions you have to ask me, you +go——”</p> + +<p>He pocketed the rebuff, and went on undisturbed:</p> + +<p>“How are you struck with Brushville?”</p> + +<p>“I am struck,” said I, “with the cheek of some of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page303" id="page303"></a>303</span> +the inhabitants. I have driven to this hotel from +the depot in a closed carriage, and I have seen nothing +of your city.”</p> + +<p>The man wrote down something.</p> + +<p>“I lecture to-morrow night,” I continued, “before +the students of the State University, and I have come +here for rest.”</p> + +<p>He took this down.</p> + +<p>“All this, you see, is very uninteresting; so, good-night.”</p> + +<p>And I disappeared.</p> + +<p>The interviewer rose and came to my side.</p> + +<p>“Really, now that I am here, you may as well let +me have a chat with you.”</p> + +<p>“You wretch!” I exclaimed. “Don’t you see that +I am dying for sleep? Is there nothing sacred for +you? Have you lost all sense of charity? Have you +no mother? Don’t you believe in future punishment? +Are you a man or a demon?”</p> + +<p>“Tell me some anecdotes, some of your reminiscences +of the road,” said the man, with a sardonic grin.</p> + +<p>I made no reply. The imperturbable reporter resumed +his seat and smoked.</p> + +<p>“Are you gone?” I sighed, from under the +blankets.</p> + +<p>The answer came in the following words:</p> + +<p>“I understand, sir, that when you were a young +man——”</p> + +<p>“When I was <span class="sc">what</span>?” I shouted, sitting up once +more.</p> + +<p>“I understand, sir, that when you were <i>quite</i> a +young man,” repeated the interviewer, with the sentence +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page304" id="page304"></a>304</span> +improved, “you were an officer in the French +army.”</p> + +<p>“I was,” I murmured, in the same position.</p> + +<p>“I also understand you fought during the Franco-Prussian +war.”</p> + +<p>“I did,” I said, resuming a horizontal position.</p> + +<p>“May I ask you to give me some reminiscences of +the Franco-Prussian war—just enough to fill about a +column?”</p> + +<p>I rose and again sat up.</p> + +<p>“Free citizen of the great American Republic,” +said I, “beware, beware! There will be blood shed +in this room to-night.”</p> + +<p>And I seized my pillow.</p> + +<p>“You are not meaty,” exclaimed the reporter.</p> + +<p>“May I inquire what the meaning of this strange +expression is?” I said, frowning; “I don’t speak +American fluently.”</p> + +<p>“It means,” he replied, “that there is very little to +be got out of you.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going?” I said, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I am.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night.”</p> + +<p>I bolted the door, turned out the gas, and “re-retired.”</p> + +<p>“Poor fellow,” I thought; “perhaps he relied on me +to supply him with material for a column. I might +have chatted with him. After all, these reporters +have invariably been kind to me. I might as well +have obliged him. What is he going to do?”</p> + +<p>And I dreamed that he was dismissed. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page305" id="page305"></a>305</span> </p> + +<p>I ought to have known better.</p> + +<p>This morning I opened the Brushville <i>Express</i>, and, +to my stupefaction, saw a column about me. My +impressions of Brushville, that I had no opportunity +of looking at, were there. Nay, more. I would blush +to record here the exploits I performed during the +Franco-Prussian war, as related by my interviewer, +especially those which took place at the battle of +Gravelotte, where, unfortunately, I was not present. +The whole thing was well written. The reference to +my military services began thus: “Last night a hero +of the great Franco-Prussian war slept under the hospitable +roof of Morrison Hotel, in this city.”</p> + +<p>“Slept!” This was adding insult to injury.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>This morning I had the visit of two more reporters.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of Brushville?” they said; +and, seeing that I would not answer the question, they +volunteered information on Brushville, and talked +loud on the subject. I have no doubt that the afternoon +papers will publish my impressions of Brushville.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:110px; height:132px" src="images/img318.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page306" id="page306"></a>306</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3> + +<p class="tt">The University of Indiana—Indianapolis—The +Veterans of the Grand Army of the Republic +on the Spree—A Marvelous Equilibrist.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Bloomington, Ind.</i>, <i>March</i> 13.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Lectured</span> yesterday before the students of the +University of Indiana, and visited the different +buildings this morning. The university is situated on +a hill in the midst of a wood, about half a mile from +the little town of Bloomington.</p> + +<p>In a few days I shall be at Ann Arbor, the University +of Michigan, the largest in America, I am told. I +will wait till then to jot down my impressions of university +life in this country.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>I read in the papers: “Prince Saunders, colored, +was hanged here (Plaquemine, Fla.) yesterday. He +declared he had made his peace with God, and his +sins had been forgiven. Saunders murdered Rhody +Walker, his sweetheart, last December, a few hours +after he had witnessed the execution of Carter Wilkinson.”</p> + +<p>If Saunders has made his peace with God, I hope +his executioners have made theirs with God and man. +What an indictment against man! What an argument +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page307" id="page307"></a>307</span> +against capital punishment! Here is a man committing +a murder on returning from witnessing an execution. +And there are men still to be found who declare +that capital punishment deters men from committing +murder!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:325px; height:330px" src="images/img320.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">VETERANS.</p></div> + +<p class="rt"><i>Indianapolis</i>, <i>March</i> 14.</p> + +<p>Arrived here yesterday afternoon. Met James Whitcomb +Riley, the Hoosier poet. Mr. Riley is a man of +about thirty, a genuine poet, full of pathos and humor, +and a great reciter. No one, I imagine, could give his +poetry as he does himself. He is a born actor, who +holds you in suspense, and makes you cry or laugh +just as he pleases. I remember, when two years ago +Mr. Augustin Daly gave a farewell supper to Mr. Henry +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page308" id="page308"></a>308</span> +Irving and Miss Ellen Terry at Delmonico’s, Mr. Riley +recited one of his poems at table. He gave most of us +a big lump in our throats, and Miss Terry had tears +rolling down her cheeks.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:355px; height:330px" src="images/img321.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A GREAT BALANCING FEAT.</p></div> + +<p>The veterans of the Grand Army of the Republic +are having a great field day in Indianapolis. They +have come here to attend meetings and ask for pensions, +so as to reduce that unmanageable surplus. Indianapolis +is full, and the management of Denison +House does not know which way to turn. All these +veterans have large, broad-brimmed soft hats and are +covered all over with badges and ribbons. Their wives +and daughters, members of some patriotic association, +have come with them. It is a huge picnic. The entrance +hall is crowded all day. The spittoons have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page309" id="page309"></a>309</span> +been replaced by tubs for the occasion. Chewing is in +favor all over America, but the State of Indiana beats, +in that way, everything I have seen before.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:243px; height:410px" src="images/img322.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“IN EUROPE SWAGGERING LITTLE BOYS SMOKE.”</p></div> + +<p>Went to see Clara Morris in Adolphe Belot’s “Article +47,” at the Opera House, last night. Clara Morris +is a powerful actress, but, like most actors and actresses +who go “starring” through America, badly supported. +I watched the audience with great interest. Nineteen +mouths out of twenty were chewing—the men tobacco, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page310" id="page310"></a>310</span> +the women gum impregnated with peppermint. All +the jaws were going like those of so many ruminants +grazing in a field. From the box I occupied the sight +was most amusing.</p> + +<p>On returning to Denison House from the theater, I +went to have a smoke in a quiet corner of the hall, far +from the crowd. By and by two men, most smartly +dressed, with diamond pins in their cravats, and flowers +embroidered on their waistcoats, came and sat opposite +me. I thought they had chosen the place to have a +quiet chat together. Not so. One pushed a cuspidore +with his foot and brought it between the two chairs. +There, for half an hour, without saying one word to +each other, they chewed, hawked, and spat—and had +a good time before going to bed.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Trewey is nowhere as an equilibrist, compared to a +gallant veteran who breakfasted at my table, this morning. +Among the different courses brought to him +were two boiled eggs, almost raw, poured into a tumbler +according to the American fashion. Without +spilling a drop, he managed to eat those eggs with the +end of his knife. It was marvelous. I have never +seen the like of it, even in Germany, where the knife +trick is practiced from the tenderest age.</p> + +<p>In Europe, swaggering little boys smoke; here they +chew and spit, and look at you, as if to say: “See +what a big man I am!”</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page311" id="page311"></a>311</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Chicago (Second Visit)—Vassili Vereschagin’s +Exhibition—The “Angelus”—Wagner and +Wagnerites—Wanderings About the Big +City—I Sit on the Tribunal.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Chicago</i>, <i>March</i> 15.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Arrived</span> here this morning and put up at the +Grand Pacific Hotel. My lecture to-night at the +Central Music Hall is advertised as a <i>causerie</i>. My +local manager informs me that many people have inquired +at the box-office what the meaning of that +French word is. As he does not know himself, he +could not enlighten them, but he thinks that curiosity +will draw a good crowd to-night.</p> + +<p>This puts me in mind of a little incident which took +place about a year ago. I was to make my appearance +before an afternoon audience in the fashionable town +of Eastbourne. Not wishing to convey the idea of a +serious and prosy discourse, I advised my manager to +call the entertainment “<i>A causerie</i>.” The room was +full and the affair passed off very well. But an old +lady, who was a well-known patroness of such entertainments, +did not put in an appearance. On being +asked the next day why she was not present, she +replied: “Well, to tell you the truth, when I saw that +they had given the entertainment a French name, I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page312" id="page312"></a>312</span> +was afraid it might be something not quite fit for me +to hear.” Dear soul!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 16.</p> + +<p>My manager’s predictions were realized last night. +I had a large audience, one of the keenest and the most +responsive and appreciative I have ever had. I was +introduced by Judge Elliott Anthony, of the Superior +Court, in a short, witty, and graceful little speech. He +spoke of Lafayette and of the debt of gratitude America +owes to France for the help she received at her hands +during the War of Independence. Before taking leave +of me, Judge Anthony kindly invited me to pay a +visit to the Superior Court next Wednesday.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 17.</p> + +<p>Dined yesterday with Mr. James W. Scott, proprietor +of the Chicago <i>Herald</i>, one of the most flourishing +newspapers in the United States, and in the evening +went to see Richard Mansfield in “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. +Hyde.” The play is a repulsive one, but the double +impersonation gives the great actor a magnificent +opportunity for the display of his histrionic powers. +The house was crowded, though it was Sunday. The +pick of Chicago society was not there, of course. Some +years ago, I was told, a Sunday audience was mainly +composed of men. To-day the women go as freely as +the men. The “horrible” always has a great fascination +for the masses, and Mansfield held his popular +audience in a state of breathless suspense. There was +a great deal of disappointment written on the faces +when the light was turned down on the appearance of +“Mr. Hyde,” with his horribly distorted features. A +woman, sitting in a box next to the one I occupied, +exclaimed, as “Hyde” came to explain his terrible +secret to the doctor, in the fourth act, “What a shame, +they are turning down the light again!”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page313" id="page313"></a>313</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:456px; height:610px" src="images/img326.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“DEAR SOUL!”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page314" id="page314"></a>314</span></p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 18.</p> + +<p>Spent yesterday in recreation intellectual—and +otherwise. I like to see everything, and I have no +objection to entering a dime museum. I went to one +yesterday morning, and saw a bearded lady, a calf with +two heads, a gorilla (stuffed), a girl with no arms, and +other freaks of nature. The bearded lady had very, +very masculine features, but <i>honi soit qui mal y pense</i>. +I could not help thinking of one of General Horace +Porter’s good stories. A school-master asks a little +boy what his father is.</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, papa told me not to tell.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, never mind, it’s all right with me.”</p> + +<p>“Please, sir, he is the bearded lady at the dime +museum.”</p> + +<p>From the museum I went to the free library in the +City Hall. Dime museums and free libraries—such is +America. The attendance at the free libraries increases +rapidly every day, and the till at the dime museums +diminishes with proportionate rapidity.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 260px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:209px; height:330px" src="images/img328.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">“THE BEARDED LADY.”</td></tr></table> + +<p>After lunch I paid a visit to the exhibition of Vassili +Vereschagin’s pictures. What on earth could possess +the talented Russian artist, whose coloring is so lovely, +to expend his labor on such subjects! Pictures like +those, which show the horrors of a campaign in all +their hideousness, may serve a good purpose in creating +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page315" id="page315"></a>315</span> +a detestation of war in all who see them. Nothing +short of such a motive in the artist could excuse the +portrayal of such infamies. These pictures are so +many nightmares which will certainly haunt my eyes +and brain for days and nights to come. Battle scenes +portrayed with a realism +that is revolting, +because, alas, only too +true. The execution +of nihilists in a dim, +dreary, snow-covered +waste. An execution +of sepoys, the doomed +rebels tied to the +mouths of cannon +about to be fired off. +Scenes of torture, illustrative +of the extent +to which human +suffering can be carried, +give you cold +shudders in every fiber +of your body. One +horrid canvas shows +a deserted battlefield, +the snow-covered +ground littered with corpses that ravens are tearing +and fighting for. But, perhaps worst of all, is a +picture of a field, where, in the snow, lie the human +remains of a company of Russian soldiers who have +been surprised and slain by Turks. Among the bodies, +outraged by horrible and nameless mutilations, walks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page316" id="page316"></a>316</span> +a priest, swinging a censer. One seems to be pursued +by, and impregnated with, a smell of cadaverous putrefaction. +This collection of pictures is installed in a +place which has been used for stabling horses in, and is +reeking with stable odors and the carbolic acid that +has been employed to neutralize them. Your sense of +smell is in full sympathy with your horrified sense of +sight: both are revolted.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Now, behind the three large rooms devoted to the +Russian artist’s works was a small one, in which hung a +single picture. You little guess that that picture was +no other than Jean Francois Millet’s “Angelus.” +Millet’s dear little “Angelus,” that hymn of resignation +and peace, alongside of all this roar and carnage +of battle! The exhibitor thought, perhaps, that a +sedative might be needed after the strong dose of +Vassili Vereschagin, but I imagine that no one who +went into that little room after the others was in a +mood to listen to Millet’s message.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 19.</p> + +<p>Yesterday morning I went to see the Richmond +Libby Prison, a four-story, huge brick building which +has been removed here from Richmond, over a distance +of more than a thousand miles, across the mountains +of Pennsylvania. This is, perhaps, as the circular +says, an unparalleled feat in the history of the +world. The prison has been converted into a museum, +illustrating the Civil War and African Slavery in America. +The visit proved very interesting. In the afternoon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page317" id="page317"></a>317</span> +I had a drive through the beautiful parks of the +city.</p> + +<p>In the evening I went to see “Tannhäuser” at the +Auditorium. Outside, the building looks more like a +penitentiary than a place of amusement—a huge pile +of masonry, built of great, rough, black-looking blocks +of stone. Inside, it is magnificent. I do not know +anything to compare with it for comfort, grandeur, and +beauty. It can hold seven thousand people. The +decorations are white and gold. The lighting is done +by means of arc electric lights in the enormously lofty +roof—lights which can be lowered at will. Mr. Peck +kindly took me to see the inner workings of the stage. +I should say “stages,” for there are three. The hydraulic +machinery for raising and lowering them cost +$200,000.</p> + +<p>Madame Lehmann sang grandly. I imagine that +she is the finest lady exponent of Wagner’s music alive. +She not only sings the parts, but looks them. Built +on grand lines and crowned with masses of blond +hair, she seems, when she gives forth those volumes of +clear tones, a Norse goddess strayed into the nineteenth +century.</p> + +<p>M. Gounod describes Wagner as an astounding +prodigy, an aberration of genius, a dreamer haunted +by the colossal. For years I had listened to Wagner’s +music, and, like most of my compatriots, brought up +on the tuneful airs of Bellini, Donizetti, Rossini, Verdi, +Auber, etc., I entirely failed to appreciate the music of +the future. All I could say in its favor was some variation +of the sentiment once expressed by Mr. Edgar +W. Nye (“Bill Nye”) who, after giving the subject +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page318" id="page318"></a>318</span> +his mature consideration, said he came to the conclusion +that Wagner’s music was not so bad as it sounded. +But I own that since I went to Bayreuth and heard +and saw the operas as there given, I began not only to +see that they are beautiful, but why they are beautiful.</p> + +<p>Wagnerian opera is a poetical and musical idealization +of speech.</p> + +<p>The fault that I, like many others, have fallen into, +was that of listening to the voices instead of listening +to the orchestra. The fact is, the voices could almost +be dispensed with altogether. The orchestra gives +you the beautiful poem in music, and the personages on +the stage are really little more than illustrative puppets. +They play about the same part in the work that +pictures play in a book. Wagner’s method was something +so new, so different to all we had been accustomed +to, that it naturally provoked much indignation +and enmity—not because it was bad, but because it +was new. It was the old story of the Classicists and +Romanticists over again.</p> + +<p>If you wanted to write a symphony, illustrative of +the pangs and miseries of a sufferer from toothache, +you would, if you were a disciple of Wagner, write +your orchestral score so that the instruments should +convey to the listener the whole gamut of groans—the +temporary relief, the return of the pain, the sudden +disappearance of it on ringing the bell at the dentist’s +door, the final wrench of extraction gone through by +the poor patient. On the boards you would put a +personage who, with voice and contortions, should +help you, as pictorial illustrations help an author. +Such is the Wagnerian method. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page319" id="page319"></a>319</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:414px; height:330px" src="images/img332.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“A TERRIBLE WAGNERITE.”</p></div> + +<p>After the play I met a terrible Wagnerite. Most +Wagnerites are terrible. They will not admit that +anything can be discussed, much less criticised, in the +works of the master. They are not admirers, disciples; +they are worshipers. To them Wagner’s music is as +perfect as America is to many a good-humored American. +They will tell you that never have horses neighed +so realistically as they do in the “Walküre.” Answer +that this is almost lowering music to the level of +ventriloquism, and they will declare you a profane, unworthy +to live. My Wagnerite friend told me last night +that Wagner’s work constantly improved till it reached +perfection in “Parsifal.” “There,” he said, quite seriously, +“the music has reached such a state of perfection +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page320" id="page320"></a>320</span> +that, in the garden scene, you can smell the violets +and the roses.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” I interrupted, “I heard ‘Parsifal’ in Bayreuth, +and I must confess that it is, perhaps, the only +work of Wagner’s that I cannot understand.”</p> + +<p>“I have heard it thirty-four times,” he said, “and +enjoyed it more the thirty-fourth time than I did the +thirty-third.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” I remarked, “perhaps it has to be heard +fifty times before it can be thoroughly appreciated. +In which case, you must own that life is too short to +enable one to see an opera fifty times in order to enjoy +it as it should really be enjoyed. I don’t care what +science there is about music, or what labors a musician +should have to go through. As one of the public, I say +that music is a recreation, and should be understood at +once. Auber, for example, with his delightful airs, +that three generations of men have sung on their way +home from the opera house, has been a greater benefactor +of the human race than Wagner. I prefer +music written for the heart to music written for the +mind.”</p> + +<p>On hearing me mention Auber’s name in one breath +with Wagner’s, the Wagnerite threw a glance of contempt +at me that I shall never forget.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said I, to regain his good graces, “I may +improve yet—I will try again.”</p> + +<p>As a rule, the Wagnerite is a man utterly destitute +of humor.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>March</i> 20.</p> + +<p>Yesterday morning I called on Judge Elliott Anthony, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page321" id="page321"></a>321</span> +at the Superior Court. The Judge invited me +to sit by his side on the tribunal, and kindly explained +to me the procedure, as the cases went on. Certainly +kindness is not rare in Europe, but such simplicity in +a high official is only to be met with in America.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:63px; height:120px" src="images/img334.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption"></p></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page322" id="page322"></a>322</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Ann Arbor—The University of Michigan—Detroit +Again—The French Out of France—Oberlin +College, Ohio—Black and White—Are +All American Citizens Equal?</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Detroit</i>, <i>March</i> 22.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">One</span> of the most interesting and brilliant audiences +that I have yet addressed was the large one +which gathered in the lecture hall of the University of +Michigan, at Ann Arbor, last night. Two thousand +young, bright faces to gaze at from the platform is a +sight not to be easily forgotten. I succeeded in pleasing +them, and they simply delighted me.</p> + +<p>The University of Michigan is, I think, the largest +in the United States.</p> + +<p>Picture to yourself one thousand young men and +one thousand young women, in their early twenties, +staying together in the same boarding-houses, studying +literature, science, and the fine arts in the same class-rooms, +living happily and in perfect harmony.</p> + +<p>They are not married.</p> + +<p>No restraint of any sort. Even in the boarding-houses +they are allowed to meet in the sitting-rooms; +I believe that the only restriction is that, at eight +o’clock in the evening, or at nine (I forget which), the +young ladies have to retire to their private apartments. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page323" id="page323"></a>323</span> </p> + +<p>“But,” some European will exclaim, “do the young +ladies’ parents trust all these young men?” They do +much better than that, my dear friend—they trust their +daughters.</p> + +<p>During eighteen years, I was told, three accidents +happened, but three marriages happily resulted.</p> + +<p>The educational system of America engenders the +high morality which undoubtedly exists throughout +the whole of the United States, by accustoming women +to the companionship of men from their infancy, first +in the public schools, then in the high schools, and +finally in the universities. It explains the social life of +the country. It accounts for the delightful manner in +which men treat women. It explains the influence of +women. Receiving exactly the same education as the +men, the women are enabled to enjoy all the intellectual +pleasures of life. They are not inferior beings +intended for mere housekeepers, but women destined +to play an important part in all the stations of life.</p> + +<p>No praise can be too high for a system of education +that places knowledge of the highest order at the disposal +of every child born in America. The public +schools are free, the high schools are free, and the +universities,<a name="FnAnchor_4" id="FnAnchor_4" href="#Footnote_4"><span class="sp">4</span></a> through the aid that they receive from +the United States and from the State in which they +are, can offer their privileges, without charge for tuition, +to all persons of either sex who are qualified by +knowledge for admission.</p> + +<p>The University of Michigan comprises the Department +of Literature, Science, and the Arts, the Department +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page324" id="page324"></a>324</span> +of Medicine and Surgery, the Department of +Law, the School of Pharmacy, the Homœopathic +Medical College, and the College of Dental Surgery. +Each department has its special Faculty of Instruction.</p> + +<p>I count 118 professors on the staff of the different +faculties.</p> + +<p>The library contains 70,041 volumes, 14,626 unbound +brochures, and 514 maps and charts.</p> + +<p>The University also possesses beautiful laboratories, +museums, an astronomical observatory, collections, +workshops of all sorts, a lecture hall capable of accommodating +over two thousand people, art studios, etc., +etc. Almost every school has a building of its own, +so that the University is like a little busy town.</p> + +<p>No visit that I have ever paid to a public institution +interested me so much as the short one paid to the +University of Michigan yesterday.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Dined this evening with Mr. W. H. Brearley, editor +of the Detroit <i>Journal</i>. Mr. Brearley thinks that the +Americans, who received from France such a beautiful +present as the statue of “Liberty Enlightening the +World,” ought to present the mother country of General +Lafayette with a token of her gratitude and affection, +and he has started a national subscription to carry out +his idea. He has already received support, moral and +substantial. I can assure him that nothing would +touch the hearts of the French people more than such +a tribute of gratitude and friendship from the other +great republic.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page325" id="page325"></a>325</span> </p> + +<p>In the evening I had a crowded house in the large +lecture hall of the Young Men’s Christian Association.</p> + +<p>After the lecture, I met an interesting Frenchman +residing in Detroit.</p> + +<p>“I was told a month ago, when I paid my first visit to +Detroit, that there were twenty-five thousand French +people living here,” I said to him.</p> + +<p>“The number is exaggerated, I believe,” he replied, +“but certainly we are about twenty thousand.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have French societies, a French +Club?” I ventured.</p> + +<p>He smiled.</p> + +<p>“The Germans have,” he said, “but we have not. +We have tried many times to found French clubs in +this city, so as to establish friendly intercourse among +our compatriots, but we have always failed.”</p> + +<p>“How is that?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know. They all wanted to be presidents, +or vice-presidents. They quarreled among +themselves.”</p> + +<p>“When six Frenchmen meet to start a society,” I +said, “one will be president, two vice-presidents, one +secretary, and the other assistant-secretary. If the +sixth cannot obtain an official position, he will resign +and go about abusing the other five.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what happened.”</p> + +<p>It was my turn to smile. Why should the French +in Detroit be different from the French all over the +world, except perhaps in their own country? A +Frenchman out of France is like a fish out of water. +He loses his native amiability and becomes a sort of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page326" id="page326"></a>326</span> +suspicious person, who spends his life in thinking that +everybody wants to tread on his corns.</p> + +<p>“When two Frenchmen meet in a foreign land,” +goes an old saying, “there is one too many.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:441px; height:330px" src="images/img339.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE TWO FRENCHMEN.</p></div> + +<p>In Chicago there are two Frenchmen engaged in +teaching the natives of the city “how to speak and +write the French language correctly.” The people of +Chicago maintain that the streets are too narrow to +let these two Frenchmen pass, when they walk in opposite +directions. And it appears that one of them +has lately started a little French paper—to abuse the +other in.</p> + +<p>I think that all the faults and weaknesses of the +French can be accounted for by the presence of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page327" id="page327"></a>327</span> +defect, jealousy; and the absence of a quality, +humor.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Oberlin, O.</i>, <i>March</i> 24.</p> + +<p>Have to-night given a lecture to the students of +Oberlin College, a religious institution founded by the +late Rev. Charles Finney, the friend of the slaves, and +whose voice, they say, when he preached, shook the +earth.</p> + +<p>The college is open to colored students; but in an +audience of about a thousand young men and women, +I could only discover the presence of two descendants +of Ham.</p> + +<p>Originally many colored students attended at Oberlin +College, but the number steadily decreased every +year, and to-day there are only very few. The colored +student is not officially “boycotted,” but he has probably +discovered by this time that he is not wanted in +Oberlin College any more than in the orchestra stalls +of an American theater.</p> + +<p>The Declaration of Independence proclaims that +“all men are created equal,” but I never met a man in +America (much less still a woman) who believed this +or who acted upon it.</p> + +<p>The railroad companies have special cars for colored +people, and the saloons special bars. At Detroit, I +was told yesterday that a respectable and wealthy +mulatto resident, who had been refused service in one +of the leading restaurants of the town, brought an +action against the proprietor, but that, although there +was no dispute of the facts, the jury unanimously decided +against the plaintiff, who was moreover mulcted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page328" id="page328"></a>328</span> +in costs to a heavy amount. But all this is nothing: +the Young Men’s Christian Association, one of the +most representative and influential corporations in the +United States, refuses to admit colored youths to +membership.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:232px; height:330px" src="images/img341.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE NEGRO.</p></div> + +<p>It is just possible that in a few years colored students +will have ceased to study at Oberlin College.</p> + +<p>I can perfectly well understand that Jonathan +should not care to associate too closely with the colored +people, for, although they do not inspire me with +repulsion, still I cannot imagine—well, I cannot understand +for one thing how the mulatto can exist.</p> + +<p>But since the American has to live alongside the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page329" id="page329"></a>329</span> +negro, would it not be worth his while to treat him +politely and honestly, give him his due as an equal, if +not in his eyes, at any rate in the eyes of the law? +Would it not be worth his while to remember that the +“darky” cannot be gradually disposed of like the +Indian, for Sambo adapts himself to his surroundings, +multiplies apace, goes to school, and knows how to +read, write, and reckon. Reckon especially.</p> + +<p>It might be well to remember, too, that all the greatest, +bloodiest revolutions the world has ever seen were +set on foot, not to pay off hardships, but as revenge +for injustice. “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” was called a romance, +nothing but a romance, by the aristocratic +Southerners; but, to use the Carlylian phrase, their +skins went to bind the hundreds of editions of that +book. Another “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” may yet appear.</p> + +<p>America will have “to work her thinking machine” +seriously on this subject, and that before many years +are over. If the next Presidential election is not run +on the negro question, the succeeding one surely will +be.</p> + +<hr class="foot" /><div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4" href="#FnAnchor_4"><span class="fn">4</span></a> A fee of ten dollars entitles a student to the privileges of permanent +membership in the University.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:53px" src="images/img342.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption"></p></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page330" id="page330"></a>330</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Mr. and Mrs. Kendal in New York—Joseph +Jefferson—Julian Hawthorne—Miss Ada +Rehan—“As You Like It” at Daly’s +Theater.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>March</i> 28.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">The</span> New York papers this morning announce that +the “Society of Young Girls of Pure Character +on the Stage” give a lunch to Mrs. Kendal to-morrow.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Kendal have conquered America. +Their tour is a triumphal march through the United +States, a huge success artistically, financially, and +socially.</p> + +<p>I am not surprised at it. I went to see them a +few days ago in “The Ironmaster,” and they delighted +me. As <i>Claire</i> Mrs. Kendal was admirable. +She almost succeeded in making me forget Madame +Jane Hading, who created the part at the Gymnase, in +Paris, six years ago.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>This morning Mr. Joseph Jefferson called on me at +the Everett House. The veteran actor, who looks +more like a man of fifty than like one of over sixty, is +now playing with Mr. William J. Florence in “The +Rivals.” I had never seen him off the stage. I immediately +saw that the characteristics of the actor +were the characteristics of the man—kindness, naturalness, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page331" id="page331"></a>331</span> +simplicity, <i>bonhomie</i>, and <i>finesse</i>. An admirable +actor, a great artist, and a lovable man.</p> + +<p>At the Down-Town Club, I lunched with the son of +Nathaniel Hawthorne—the greatest novelist that +America has yet produced—Mr. Julian Hawthorne, +himself a novelist of repute. Lately he has written a +series of sensational novels in collaboration with the +famous New York detective, Inspector Byrnes. Mr. +Julian Hawthorne is a man of about forty-five, tall, +well-proportioned, with an artistic-looking head +crowned with grayish hair, that reminds a Frenchman +of Alexandre Dumas, <i>fils</i>, and an American of Nathaniel +Hawthorne. A charming, unaffected man, and a delightful +<i>causeur</i>.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In the evening I went to Daly’s Theater and saw +“As You Like It.” That bewitching queen of actresses, +Miss Ada Rehan, played <i>Rosalind</i>. Miss Rehan +is so original that it would be perfectly impossible to +compare her to any of the other great actresses of +France and England. She is like nobody else. She +is herself. The coaxing drawl of her musical voice, +the vivacity of her movements, the whimsical spontaneity +that seems to direct her acting, her tall, handsome +figure, her beautiful, intellectual face, all tend to +make her a unique actress. She fascinates you, and +so gets hold of you, that when she is on the stage +she entirely fills it. Mr. John Drew as <i>Orlando</i> and +Mr. James Drew as <i>Touchstone</i> were admirable.</p> + +<p>It matters little what the play-bill announces at +Daly’s Theater. If I have not seen the play, I am +sure to enjoy it; if I have seen it already, I am sure +to enjoy it again.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page332" id="page332"></a>332</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Washington—The City—Willard’s Hotel—The +Politicians—General Benjamin Harrison, U. +S. President—Washington Society—Baltimore—Philadelphia.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Washington</i>, <i>April</i> 3.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Arrived</span> here the day before yesterday, and +put up at Willard’s. I prefer this huge hotel to +the other more modern houses of the capital, because +it is thoroughly American; because it is in its rotunda +that every evening the leading men of all parties and +the notables of the nation may be found; because to +meet at Willard’s at night is as much the regular thing +as to perform any of the official functions of office +during the day; because, to use the words of a guide, +which speaks the truth, it is pleasant to live in this historical +place, in apartments where battles have been +planned and political parties have been born or +doomed to death, to become familiar with surroundings +amid which Presidents have drawn their most important +papers and have chosen their Cabinet Ministers, +and where the proud beauties of a century have +held their Court.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>On the subject of Washington hotels, I was told a +good story the other day. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page333" id="page333"></a>333</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:407px; height:430px" src="images/img346.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">EVENING AT WILLARD’S.</p></div> + +<p>The most fashionable hotel of this city having outgrown +its space, the proprietors sent a note to a lady, +whose back yard adjoined, to say, that, contemplating +still enlarging their hotel, they would be glad to know +at what price she would sell her yard, and they would +hand her the amount without any more discussion. +The lady, in equally Yankee style, replied that she +had been contemplating enlarging her back yard, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page334" id="page334"></a>334</span> +was going to inquire what they would take for part of +their hotel!</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>How beautiful this city of Washington is, with its +wide avenues, its parks, and its buildings! That Capitol, +in white marble, standing on elevated ground, +against a bright blue sky, is a poem—an epic poem.</p> + +<p>I am never tired of looking at the expanse of cloudless +blue that is almost constantly stretched overhead. +The sunsets are glorious. The poorest existence would +seem bearable under such skies. I am told they are +better still further West. I fancy I should enjoy to +spend some time on a farm, deep in the country, far +from the noisy, crowded streets, but I fear I am condemned +to see none but the busy haunts of Jonathan.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In the evening I went to what is called a colored +church. The place was packed with negroes of all +shades and ages; the women, some of them very +smartly dressed, and waving scarlet fans. In a pew +sat a trio truly gorgeous. Mother, in black shiny +satin, light-brown velvet mantle covered with iridescent +beads, bonnet to match. Daughter of fifteen; +costume of sky-blue satin, plush mantle, scarlet red, +chinchilla fur trimmings, white hat with feathers. +Second girl, or daughter, light-blue velvet, from top +to toe, with large hat, apple-green and gold.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:446px; height:240px" src="images/img348.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A GORGEOUS TRIO.</p></div> + +<p>Every one was intently listening to the preacher, a +colored man, who gave them, in graphic language and +stentorian voice, the story of the capture of the Jews +by Cyrus, their slavery and their delivery. A low accompaniment +of “Yes!” “Hear, hear!” “Allelujah!” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page335" id="page335"></a>335</span> +“Glory!” from the hearers, showed their approbation +of the discourse. From time to time, there would be +a general chuckle or laughter, and exclamations of delight +from the happy grin-lit mouths, as, for instance, +when the preacher described the supper of Belshazzar, +and the appearance of the writing on the wall, in his +own droll fashion. “’Let’s have a fine supper,’ said +Belshazzar. ‘Dere’s ole Cyrus out dere, but we’ll +have a good time and enjoy ourselves, and never mind +him.’ So he went for de cups dat had come from de +Temple of Jerusalem, and began carousin’! Dere is +Cyrus, all de while, marchin’ his men up de bed ob de +river. I see him comin’! I see him!” Then he pictured +the state all that wicked party got in at the +sight of the writing nobody could read, and by this +time the excitement of the congregation was tremendous. +The preacher thought this a good opportunity to +point a moral. So he proceeded: “Now, drink is a +poor thing; dere’s too much of it in dis here city.” +Here followed a picture of certain darkies, who cut a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page336" id="page336"></a>336</span> +dash with shiny hats and canes, and frequented bars +and saloons. “When folks take to drinkin’, somefin’s +sure to go wrong.” Grins and grunts of approbation +culminated in perfect shouts of glee, as the preacher +said: “Ole Belshazzar and de rest of ’em forgot to +shut de city gate, and in came Cyrus and his men.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:373px; height:340px" src="images/img349.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE PREACHER.</p></div> + +<p>They went nearly wild with pleasure over the story +of the liberation of the Jews, and incidental remarks +on their own freeing. “Oh, let dem go,” said their +masters, when they found the game was up, “dey’ll +soon perish and die out!” Here the preacher laughed +loudly, and then shouted: “But we don’t die out so +easy!” [Grins and chuckling.]</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: right; width: 320px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figright1"><img style="width:266px; height:330px" src="images/img350.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">THE OLD NEGRO.</td></tr></table> + +<p>One old negro was very funny to watch. When +something met with his approval, he gave off a little +“tchsu, tchsu!” and writhed forward and back on his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page337" id="page337"></a>337</span> +seat for a moment, apparently in intense enjoyment; +then jumped off his seat, turning round once or twice; +then he would listen +intently again, as if +afraid to lose a word.</p> + +<p>“I see dis, I see dat,” +said the preacher continually. +His listeners +seemed to see it too.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>At ten minutes to +twelve yesterday morning, +I called at the +White House. The +President had left the +library, but he was kind +enough to return, and +at twelve I had the +honor to spend a few minutes in the company of +General Benjamin Harrison. Two years ago I was +received by Mr. Grover Cleveland with the same +courtesy and the same total absence of red tape.</p> + +<p>The President of the United States is a man about +fifty-five years old; short, exceedingly neat, and even +<i>recherché</i> in his appearance. The hair and beard are +white, the eyes small and very keen. The face is +severe, but lights up with a most gentle and kind +smile.</p> + +<p>General Harrison is a popular president; but the +souvenir of Mrs. Cleveland is still haunting the minds +of the Washingtonians. They will never forget the +most beautiful lady who ever did the honors of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page338" id="page338"></a>338</span> +White House, and most of them look forward to the +possibility of her returning to Washington in March, +1893.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Washington society moves in circles and sets. The +wife of the President and the wives and daughters of +the Cabinet Ministers form the first set—Olympus, as +it were. The second set is composed of the ladies +belonging to the families of the Judges of the Supreme +Court! The Senators come next. The Army circle +comes fourth. The House of Representatives supplies +the last set. Each circle, a Washington friend tells me, +is controlled by rigid laws of etiquette. Senators’ wives +consider themselves much superior to the wives of +Congressmen, and the Judges’ wives consider themselves +much above those of the Senators. But, as a +rule, the great lion of Washington society is the British +Minister, especially when he happens to be a real live +English lord. All look up to him; and if a young +titled English <i>attaché</i> wishes to marry the richest +heiress of the capital, all he has to do is to throw the +handkerchief, the young and the richest natives do not +stand the ghost of a chance.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Lectured last night, in the Congregational Church, +to a large and most fashionable audience. Senator +Hoar took the chair, and introduced me in a short, +neat, gracefully worded little speech. In to-day’s +Washington <i>Star</i>, I find the following remark:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>The lecturer was handsomely introduced by Senator Hoar, who +combines the dignity of an Englishman, the sturdiness of a Scotchman, +the <i>savoir faire</i> of a Frenchman, and the culture of a Bostonian.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page339" id="page339"></a>339</span></p> + +<p>What a strange mixture! I am trying to find where +the compliment comes in, surely not in “the <i>savoir +faire</i> of a Frenchman!”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Armed with a kind letter of introduction to Miss Kate +Field, I called this morning at the office of this lady, +who is characterized by a prominent journalist as “the +very brainiest woman in the United States.” Unfortunately +she was out of town.</p> + +<p>I should have liked to make the personal acquaintance +of this brilliant, witty woman, who speaks, I am +told, as she writes, in clear, caustic, fearless style. +My intention was to interview her a bit. A telegram +was sent to her in New York from her secretary, and +her answer was wired immediately: “Interview <i>him</i>.” +So, instead of interviewing Miss Kate Field, I was interviewed, +for her paper, by a young and very pretty +lady journalist.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Baltimore</i>, <i>April</i> 4.</p> + +<p>I have spent the day here with some friends.</p> + +<p>Baltimore strikes one as a quiet, solid, somewhat +provincial town. It is an eminently middle-class looking +city. There is no great wealth in it, no great activity; +but, on the other hand, there is little poverty; +it is a well-to-do city <i>par excellence</i>. The famous Johns +Hopkins University is here, and I am not surprised to +learn that Baltimore is a city of culture and refinement.</p> + +<p>A beautiful forest, a mixture of cultivated park and +wilderness, about a mile from the town, must be a +source of delight to the inhabitants in summer and during +the beautiful months of September and October. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page340" id="page340"></a>340</span> </p> + +<p>I was told several times that Baltimore was famous +all over the States for its pretty women.</p> + +<p>They were not out to-day. And as I have not been +invited to lecture in +Baltimore, I must be +content with hoping +to be more lucky +next time.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Philadelphia</i>, <i>April</i> 5.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 300px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:247px; height:260px" src="images/img353.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">A BALTIMORE WOMAN.</td></tr></table> + +<p>After my lecture +in Association Hall +to-night, I will return +to New York to +spend Easter Sunday +with my friends. +Next Monday off +again to the West, +to Cincinnati again, to Chicago again, and as far as +Madison, the State city of Wisconsin.</p> + +<p>By the time this tour is finished—in about three +weeks—I shall have traveled something like thirty +thousand miles.</p> + +<p>The more I think of it, the more I feel the truth of +this statement, which I made in “Jonathan and His +Continent”: To form an exact idea of what a lecture +tour is in America, just imagine that you lecture to-night +in London, to-morrow in Paris, then in Berlin, +then in Vienna, then in Constantinople, then in Teheran, +then in Bombay, and so forth. With this difference, +that if you had to undertake the work in Europe, at the +end of a week you would be more dead than alive. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page341" id="page341"></a>341</span> </p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:288px; height:430px" src="images/img354.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“THE GOOD, ATTENTIVE, POLITE CONDUCTOR +OF ENGLAND.”</p></div> + +<p>But here you are not caged on the railroad lines, you +can circulate. There is no fear of cold, no fear of hunger, +and if the good, attentive, polite railway conductors +of England could be induced to do duty on board +the American cars, I would anytime go to America for +the mere pleasure of traveling.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page342" id="page342"></a>342</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XL.</h3> + +<p class="tt1">Easter Sunday in New York.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>April</i> 6 (<i>Easter Sunday.</i>)</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 300px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:245px; height:330px" src="images/img355.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">A BELLOWING SOPRANO.</td></tr></table> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">This</span> morning I went to Dr. Newton’s church in +Forty-eighth Street. He has the reputation of +being one of the best preachers in New York, and the +choir enjoys an equally +great reputation. The +church was literally +packed until the sermon +began, and then +some of the strollers +who had come to hear +the anthems moved on. +Dr. Newton’s voice and +delivery were not at all +to my taste, so I did +not sit out his sermon +either. He has a big, +unctuous voice, with +the intonations and inflections +of a showman +at the fair. He has +not the flow of ideas +that struck me so forcibly when I heard the late +Henry Ward Beecher in London; he has not the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page343" id="page343"></a>343</span> +histrionic powers of Dr. Talmage, either. There was +more show than beauty about the music, too. A bellowing, +shrieking soprano overpowered all the other +voices in the choir, including that of a really beautiful +tenor that deserved to be heard.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>New York blossoms like the rose on Easter Day. +Every woman has a new bonnet and walks abroad to +show it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:358px; height:240px" src="images/img356.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">SOME EASTER BONNETS.</p></div> + +<p>There are grades in millinery as there are in society. +The imported bonnet takes the proudest rank; it +is the aristocrat in the world of headgear. It does +not always come with the conqueror (in one of her +numerous trunks), but it always comes to conquer, and +a proud, though ephemeral triumph it enjoys, perched +on the dainty head of a New York belle, and supplemented +by a frock from Felix’s or Redfern’s.</p> + +<p>It is a unique sight, Fifth Avenue on Easter Sunday, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page344" id="page344"></a>344</span> +when all the up-town churches have emptied themselves +of their gayly garbed worshipers.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:316px; height:360px" src="images/img357.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">KEEPING LENT.</p></div> + +<p>The “four hundred” have been keeping Lent in +polite, if not rigorous, fashion. Who shall say what it +has cost them in self-sacrifice to limit themselves to the +sober, modest violet for table and bonnet decoration +during six whole weeks? These things cannot be +lightly judged by the profane. I have even heard of +sweet, devout New York girls who limited themselves +to one pound of <i>marrons glacés</i> a week during Lent. +Such feminine heroism deserves mention.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:462px; height:430px" src="images/img358.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">A CLUB WINDOW.</p></div> + +<p>And have they not been sewing flannel for the poor, +once a week, instead of directing the manipulation of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page345" id="page345"></a>345</span> +silk and gauze for their own fair forms, all the week +long? Who shall gauge the self-control necessary for +fasting such as this? But now Dorcas meetings are +over, and dances begin again to-morrow. The Easter +anthem has been sung, and the imported bonnet takes +a turn on Fifth Avenue to salute and to hob-nob with +Broadway imitations during the hour between church +and lunch. To New Yorkers this Easter Church +parade is as much of an institution in its way as those +of Hyde Park during the season are to the Londoners. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page346" id="page346"></a>346</span> +It was plain that the people sauntering leisurely on the +broad sidewalks, the feminine portion at least, had not +come out solely for religious exercise in church, but +had every intention to see and to be seen, especially +the latter. On my way down, I saw some folks who +had not been to church, and only wanted to see, so +stood with faces glued to the windows of the big clubs, +looking out at the kaleidoscopic procession: old +bachelors, I daresay, who hold the opinion that spring +bonnets, whether imported or home-grown, ought to be +labeled “dangerous.” At all events they were gazing +as one might gaze at some coveted but out-of-reach +fruit, and looking as if they dared not face their fascinating +young townswomen in all the splendor of their +new war paint. A few, perhaps, were married men, +and this was their quiet protest against fifty-dollar +hats and five-hundred-dollar gowns.</p> + +<p>The sight was beautiful and one not to be forgotten.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>In the evening I dined with Colonel Robert G. +Ingersoll and the members of his family. I noticed +something which struck me as novel, but as perfectly +charming. Each man was placed at table by the side +of his wife, including the host and hostess. This +custom in the colonel’s family circle (I was the only +guest not belonging to it) is another proof that his +theories are put into practice in his house. Dinner +and time vanished with rapidity in that house, where +everything breathes love and happiness.</p> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page347" id="page347"></a>347</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLI.</h3> + +<p class="tt">I Mount the Pulpit, and Preach on the Sabbath, +in the State of Wisconsin—The Audience is +Large and Appreciative; but I probably Fail +to Please One of the Congregation.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Milwaukee</i>, <i>April</i> 21.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">To</span> a certain extent I am a believer in climatic influence, +and am inclined to think that Sabbath +reformers reckon without the British climate when +they hope to ever see a Britain full of cheerful Christians. +M. Taine, in his “History of English Literature,” +ascribes the unlovable morality of Puritanism to +the influence of the British climate. “Pleasure being +out of question,” he says, “under such a sky, the Briton +gave himself up to this forbidding virtuousness.” In +other words, being unable to be cheerful, he became +moral. This is not altogether true. Many Britons are +cheerful who don’t look it, many Britons are not moral +who look it.</p> + +<p>But how would M. Taine explain the existence of +this same puritanic “morality” which can be found +under the lovely, clear, bright sky of America? All +over New England, and indeed in most parts of America, +the same Kill-joy, the same gloomy, frowning +Sabbath-keeper is flourishing, doing his utmost to blot +the sunshine out of every recurring seventh day. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page348" id="page348"></a>348</span> </p> + +<p>Yet Sabbath-keeping is a Jewish institution that +has nothing to do with Protestantism; but there have +always been Protestants more Protestant than Martin +Luther, and Christians more Christian than Christ.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="float: left; width: 290px;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr><td class="figleft1"><img style="width:242px; height:340px" src="images/img361.jpg" alt="" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="caption">PURITAN LACK OF CHEERFULNESS.</td></tr></table> + +<p>Luther taught that the Sabbath was to be kept, not +because Moses commanded it, but because Nature +teaches us the necessity +of the seventh day’s rest. +He says “If anywhere +the day is made holy for +the mere day’s sake, +then I command you to +work on it, ride on it, +dance on it, do anything +that will reprove this encroachment +on Christian +spirit and liberty.”</p> + +<p>The old Scotch +woman, who “did nae +think the betterer on” +the Lord for that Sabbath-day +walk through +the cornfield, is not a +solitary type of Anglo-Saxon +Christian. But it is when these Puritans judge +other nations that they are truly great.</p> + +<p>Puritan lack of charity and dread of cheerfulness +often lead Anglo-Saxon visitors to France to misjudge +the French mode of spending Sunday. Americans, as +well as English, err in this matter, as I had occasion +to find out during my second visit to America.</p> + +<p>I had been lecturing last Saturday evening in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page349" id="page349"></a>349</span> +pretty little town of Whitewater, in Wisconsin, and +received an invitation from a minister to address a +meeting that was to be held yesterday, Sunday, in the +largest church of the place to discuss the question, +“How Sunday should be spent.” I at first declined, +on the ground that it might not be exactly in good +taste for a foreigner to advise his hosts how to spend +Sunday. However, when it was suggested that I +might simply go and tell them how Sunday was spent +in France, I accepted the task.</p> + +<p>The proceedings opened with prayer and an anthem; +and a hymn in praise of the Jewish Sabbath having +been chosen by the moderator, I thought the case +looked bad for us French people, and that I was going +to cut a poor figure.</p> + +<p>The first speaker unwittingly came to my rescue by +making an onslaught upon the French mode of spending +the seventh day. “With all due respect to the +native country of our visitor,” said he, “I am bound to +say that on the one Sunday which I spent in Paris, I +saw a great deal of low immorality, and I could not +help coming to the conclusion that this was due to the +fact of the French not being a Sabbath-keeping people.” +He wound up with a strong appeal to his +townsmen to beware of any temptation to relax in +their observance of the fourth commandment as given +by Moses.</p> + +<p>I was called upon to speak next. I rose in my pew, +but was requested to go into the rostrum.</p> + +<p>With alacrity I stepped forward, a little staggered, +perhaps, at finding myself for the first time in a pulpit, +but quite ready for the fray. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page350" id="page350"></a>350</span> </p> + +<p>“I am sorry,” said I, “to hear the remarks made by +the speaker who has just sat down. I cannot, however, +help thinking that if our friend had spent that +Sunday in Paris in respectable places, he would have +been spared the sight of any low immorality. No +doubt Paris, like every large city in the world, has its +black spots, and you can easily discover them, if you +make proper inquiries as to where they are, and if you +are properly directed. Now, let me ask, where did he +go? I should very much like to know. Being an old +Parisian, I have still in my mind’s eye the numerous +museums that are open free to the people on Sundays. +One of the most edifying sights in the city is that of +our peasants and workmen in their clean Sunday +blouses enjoying themselves with their families, and +elevating their tastes among our art treasures. Did +our friend go there? I know there are places where +for little money the symphonies of Beethoven and +other great masters may be and are enjoyed by thousands +every Sunday. Did our friend go there? +Within easy reach of the people are such places as +the Bois de Boulogne, the Garden of Acclimation, +where for fifty centimes a delightful day may be spent +among the lawns and flower-beds of that Parisian +“Zoo.” Its goat cars, ostrich cars, its camel and elephant +drives make it a paradise for children, and one +might see whole families there on Sunday afternoons +in the summer, the parents refreshing their bodies +with this contact with nature and their hearts with the +sight of the children’s glee. Did our friend go there? +We even have churches in Paris, churches that are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page351" id="page351"></a>351</span> +crammed from six o’clock in the morning till one in +the afternoon with worshipers who go on their knees +to God. Now, did our friend go to church on that +Sunday? Well, where did he go? I am quitting +Whitewater to-morrow, and I leave it to his townspeople +to investigate the matter. When I first visited +New York, stories were told me of strange things to +be seen there even on a Sunday. Who doubts, I +repeat, that every great city has its black spots? I +had no desire to see those of New York, there was so +much that was better worth my time and attention. +If our friend, our observing friend, would only have +done in Paris as I did in New York, he would have +seen very little low immorality.”</p> + +<p>The little encounter at Whitewater was only one +more illustration of the strange fact that the Anglo-Saxon, +who is so good in his own country, so constant +in his attendance at church, is seldom to be seen in a +sacred edifice abroad, unless, indeed, he has been led +there by Baedeker.</p> + +<p>And last night, at Whitewater, I went to bed pleased +with myself, like a man who has fought for his country.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>When I am in France, I often bore my friends with +advice, and find, as usual, that advice is a luxurious +gift thoroughly enjoyed by the one who gives it.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know how to do these things,” I say to +them; “in England or in America, they are much +more intelligent; they do like this and like that.” +And my friends generally advise me to return to England +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page352" id="page352"></a>352</span> +or America, where things are so beautifully managed.</p> + +<p>But, when I am out of France, the old Frenchman is +all there, and if you pitch into my mother country, I +stand up ready to fight at a minute’s notice.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:77px" src="images/img365.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page353" id="page353"></a>353</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">The Origin of American Humor and Its Characteristics—The +Sacred and the Profane—The +Germans and American Humor—My +Corpse Would “Draw,” in My Impresario’s +Opinion.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Madison, Wis.</i>, <i>April</i> 22.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">Have</span> been lecturing during the past fortnight in +about twelve places, few of which possessed any +interest whatever. One of them, however—Cincinnati—I +was glad to see again.</p> + +<p>This town of Madison is the only one that has really +struck me as being beautiful. From the hills the scenery +is perfectly lovely, with its wooded slopes and lakes. +Through the kindness of Governor Hoard, I have had +a comprehensive survey of the neighborhood; for he +has driven me in his carriage to all the prettiest spots, +delighting me all the while with his conversation. He +is one of those Americans whom you may often meet if +you have a little luck: witty, humorous, hospitable, +kind-hearted, the very personification of unaffected +good-fellowship.</p> + +<p>The conversation turned on humor.</p> + +<p>I have always wondered what the origin of American +humor can be; where is or was the fountain-head. You +certainly find humor in England among the cultured +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page354" id="page354"></a>354</span> +classes, but the class of English people who emigrate +cannot have imported much humor into America. +Surely Germany and Scandinavia cannot have contributed +to the fund, either. The Scotch have dry, quiet, +pawky, unconscious humor; but their influence can +hardly have been great enough to implant their quaint +native “wut” in American soil. Again, the Irish bull +is droll, but scarcely humorous. The Italians, the Hungarians, +have never yet, that I am aware of, been suspected +of even latent humor.</p> + +<p>What then, can be the origin of American humor, as +we know it, with its naïve philosophy, its mixture of +the sacred and the profane, its exaggeration and that +preposterousness which so completely staggers the +foreigner, the French and the German especially?</p> + +<p>The mixing of sacred with profane matter, no doubt, +originated with the Puritans themselves, and is only +an outcome of the cheek-by-jowl, next-door-neighbor +fashion of addressing the Higher Powers, which is so +common in the Scotch. Many of us have heard of the +Scotch minister, whom his zeal for the welfare of missionaries +moved to address Heaven in the following +manner: “We commend to thy care those missionaries +whose lives are in danger in the Fiji Islands ... +which, Thou knowest, are situated in the Pacific Ocean.” +And he is not far removed in our minds from the New +England pastor, who preached on the well-known text +of St. Paul, and having read: “All things are possible +to me,” took a five-dollar bill out of his pocket, and +placing it on the edge of the pulpit, said: “No, Paul, +that is going too far. I bet you five dollars that you +can’t——” But continuing the reading of the text: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page355" id="page355"></a>355</span> +“Through Christ who strengtheneth me,” exclaimed, +“Ah, that’s a very different matter!” and put back the +five-dollar bill in his pocket.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:444px; height:430px" src="images/img368.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE MISSIONARY AND THE FIJIS.</p></div> + +<p>This kind of amalgamation of the sacred and profane +is constantly confronting one in American soil, +and has a firm foothold in American humor.</p> + +<p>Colonel Elliott F. Shepard, proprietor of the New +York <i>Mail and Express</i>, every morning sends to the +editor a fresh text from the Bible for publication at the +top of the editorials. One day that text was received, +but somehow got lost, and by noon was still unfound. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page356" id="page356"></a>356</span> +I was told that “you should have heard the compositors’ +room ring with: ‘Where can that d——d text +be?’” Finally the text was wired and duly inserted. +These men, however, did not intend any religious disrespect. +Such a thing was probably as far from their +minds as it was from the minds of the Puritan preachers +of old. There are men who swear, as others pray, +without meaning anything. One is a bad habit, the +other a good one.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>All that naïve philosophy, with which America +abounds, must, I fancy, be the outcome of hardship endured +by the pioneers of former days, and by the +Westerner of our own times.</p> + +<p>The element of exaggeration, which is so characteristic +of American humor, may be explained by the +rapid success of the Americans and the immensity of +the continent which they inhabit. Everything is on a +grand scale, or suggests hugeness. Then negro humor +is mainly exaggeration, and has no doubt added its +quota to the compound which, as I said just now, +completely staggers certain foreigners.</p> + +<p>Governor Hoard was telling me to-day that a German +was inclined to be offended with him for saying +that the Germans, as a rule, were unable to see through +an American joke, and he invited Governor Hoard to +try the effect of one upon him. The governor, thereupon +told him the story of the tree, “out West,” which +was so high that it took two men to see to the top. +One of them saw as far as he could, then the second +started from the place where the first stopped seeing, +and went on. The recital did not raise the +ghost of a smile, and Governor Hoard then said to +the German: “Well, you see, the joke is lost upon +you; you can’t see American humor.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page357" id="page357"></a>357</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:449px; height:610px" src="images/img370.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“THAT’S A TAMNT LIE!”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page358" id="page358"></a>358</span> </p> + +<p>“Oh, but,” said the German, “that is not humor, +that’s a <i>tamnt</i> lie!”</p> + +<p>And he is still convinced that he can see through an +American joke.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Grand Rapids</i>, <i>April</i> 24.</p> + +<p>Have had to-day a lovely, sublime example of that +preposterousness which so often characterizes American +humor.</p> + +<p>Arrived here this morning from Chicago. At noon, +the Grand Rapidite who was “bossing the show” +called upon me at the Morton House, and kindly inquired +whether there was anything he could do for +me. Before leaving, he said: “While I am here, I +may as well give you the check for to-night’s lecture.”</p> + +<p>“Just as you please,” I said; “but don’t you call +that risky?”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I may die before the evening.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right,” he interrupted. “I’ll exhibit +your corpse; I guess there will be just as much money +in it!”</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p>Grand Rapids is noted for its furniture manufactories. +A draughtsman, who is employed to design artistic +things for the largest of these manufactories, +kindly showed me over the premises of his employers. +I was not very surprised to hear that when the various +retail houses come to make their yearly selections, +they will not look at any models of the previous +season, so great is the rage for novelties in every +branch of industry in this novelty-loving America. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page359" id="page359"></a>359</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:463px; height:600px" src="images/img372.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">MY EXHIBITOR.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page360" id="page360"></a>360</span></p> + +<p>No sinecure, that draughtsman’s position, I can tell +you.</p> + +<p>Over in Europe, furniture is reckoned by periods. +Here it is an affair of seasons.</p> + +<p>Very funny to have to order a new sideboard or +wardrobe, “to be sent home without delay” for fear of +its being out of date.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:120px; height:91px" src="images/img373.jpg" alt="" /></div> + + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page361" id="page361"></a>361</span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3> + +<p class="tt">Good-by to America—Not “Adieu,” but “Au +Revoir”—On Board the “Teutonic”—Home +Again.</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>New York</i>, <i>April</i> 26.</p> + +<p class="noind"><span class="sc1">The</span> last two days have vanished rapidly in paying +calls.</p> + +<p>This morning my impresario gave me a farewell +breakfast at the Everett House. Edmund Clarence +Stedman was there; Mark Twain, George Kennan, +General Horace Porter, General Lloyd Bryce, Richard +Watson Gilder, and many others sat at table, and +joined in wishing me <i>bon voyage</i>.</p> + +<p>Good-by, my dear American friends, I shall carry +away sweet recollections of you, and whether I am re-invited +in your country or not, I will come again.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p class="rt"><i>April</i> 27.</p> + +<p>The saloon on board the <i>Teutonic</i> is a mass of +floral offerings sent by friends to the passengers. +Two huge beautiful baskets of lilies and roses are +mine.</p> + +<p>The whistle is heard for the third time. The hands +are pressed and the faces kissed, and all those who are +not passengers leave the boat and go and take up position +on the wharf to wave their handkerchiefs until the +steamer is out of sight. A great many among the +dense crowd are friendly faces familiar to me. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page362" id="page362"></a>362</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:346px; height:610px" src="images/img375.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">TWO BASKETS FOR ME.</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page363" id="page363"></a>363</span></p> + +<p>The huge construction is set in motion, and gently +and smoothly glides from the docks to the Hudson +River. The sun is shining, the weather glorious.</p> + +<p>The faces on land get less and less distinct. For +the last time I wave my hat.</p> + +<p>Hallo, what is the matter with me? Upon my +word, I believe I am sad. I go to the library, and, +like a child, seize a dozen sheets of note paper on +which I write: “Good-by.” I will send them to New +York from Sandy Hook.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:470px; height:291px" src="images/img376.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">THE “TEUTONIC.”</p></div> + +<p>The <i>Teutonic</i> is behaving beautifully. We pass +Sandy Hook. The sea is perfectly calm. Then I +think of my dear ones at home, and the happiest +thoughts take the place of my feelings of regret at +leaving my friends.</p> + +<p>My impresario, Major J. B. Pond, shares a beautiful, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page364" id="page364"></a>364</span> +well-lighted, airy cabin with me. He is coming to +England to engage Mr. Henry M. Stanley for a lecture +tour in America next season.</p> + +<p>The company on board is large and choice. In the +steerage a few disappointed American statesmen return +to Europe.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:427px; height:400px" src="images/img377.jpg" alt="" /> +<p class="caption">“A FEW DISAPPOINTED STATESMEN.”</p></div> + +<p>Oh! that <i>Teutonic!</i> can any one imagine anything +more grand, more luxurious? She is going at the rate +of 450 miles a day. In about five days we shall be at +Queenstown.</p> + +<p class="tb">.......</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page365" id="page365"></a>365</span> </p> + +<p class="rt"><i>Liverpool</i>, <i>May</i> 4.</p> + +<p>My most humble apologies are due to the Atlantic +for libeling that ocean at the beginning of this book. +For the last six days the sea has been perfectly calm, +and the trip has been one of pleasure the whole time. +Here is another crowd on the landing-stage at Liverpool.</p> + +<p>And now, dear reader, excuse me if I leave you. +You were present at the friendly farewell handshakings +on the New York side; but, on this Liverpool quay, I +see a face that I have not looked upon for five months, +and having a great deal to say to the owner of it, I +will politely bow you out first.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img style="border:0; width:423px; height:400px" src="images/img378.jpg" alt="" /></div> + +<hr class="art" /> + +<div class="verd center"> +<p class="f80">Max O’Rell’s Impressions of America and the Americans.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p><span class="f150">JONATHAN</span> AND HIS <span class="f150">CONTINENT</span></p> + +<p>BY</p> + +<p class="f120">MAX O’RELL</p> + +<p><span class="sc">And</span> JACK ALLYN</p> + +<p><i>TRANSLATED BY MADAME PAUL BLOUËT.</i></p> + +<p class="sc f80">In One Elegant 12mo Volume.</p></div> + +<table class="nobctr" width="80%" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="tcl">Extra Cloth, Gilt Top,</td> <td class="tc2">Price, $1.50.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tcl">Paper Binding,</td> <td class="tc2">Price, 50 cts.</td></tr> +</table> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p class="center">WHAT THE PRESS SAYS:</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“We have laughed with him at our neighbors, and now if we are clever we will +laugh with him at ourselves.”—<i>Daily Graphic, N. Y.</i></p> + +<p>“One reads the book with a perpetual smile on one’s face, punctuated every +now and then by a loud laugh, as one follows the brilliant Frenchman through his +six months’ tour of America. * * * He has glanced at things with the eye of +a trained observer, and commented upon them with originality and humor. * * * +One lays down the book with a wish that one might know its author.”—<i>Chicago +News.</i></p> + +<p>“The sensation of the spring. * * * It will tickle the American in spots +and make him mad in spots, but it will be read, talked of, and enjoyed.”—<i>Home +Journal, Boston.</i></p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly the most interesting and sprightly book of the season. * * * +It is rich in information.”—<i>Inter-Ocean, Chicago.</i></p></div> + +<hr class="short" /> +<div class="verd center"> +<p>CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY,</p> +<p class="f80 sc">104 & 106 Fourth Avenue, N. Y.</p></div> + + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> + +<p class="f80 center">“Rarely has one sprung into so immediate a fame in two continents.”</p> +<p class="f80 rt">—<i>Boston Home Journal.</i></p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="verd center"> +<p class="f120">A NEW VOLUME BY MAX O’RELL,</p> +<p class="f80">AUTHOR OF</p> +<p class="f80"><i>JONATHAN AND HIS CONTINENT.</i></p> + +<p class="f150 pt1">JACQUES BONHOMME,</p> +<p><i>JOHN BULL ON THE CONTINENT,<br /> +and FROM MY LETTER BOX.</i></p> + +<p class="pt2"><b>By MAX O’RELL,</b></p> +<p class="f80"><i>Author of “Jonathan and His Continent,” “John Bull, Jr.,” etc., etc.</i></p> + +<p>1 vol., 12mo, Paper, 50 cents. Extra Cloth, 75 cents.</p></div> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“If any one was absurd enough to feel aggrieved at Max O’Rell’s amusement +over us in ‘Jonathan and His Continent,’ he may take his revenge +in ‘Jacques Bonhomme,’ wherein the light-headed Blouet laughs at his +compatriots as well.”—<i>The Springfield Republican.</i></p> + +<p>“The book is full of sprightly, keen observations ... there is +not a dull line in it from first to last, and its information is as genuine and +accurate in the way of glimpses into the more intimate life of the people +as it is charming in its sparkle and glow of style.—<i>Boston Evening Traveller.</i></p> + +<p>“He is a keen observer and has a happy faculty of presenting the comical +side of things, and that with unvarying good humor, apparently indifferent +whether the joke hits himself or somebody else.”—<i>The Troy Budget.</i></p> + +<p>“In it is pictured the French at school, at war, in leading strings, in +love, at work, at play, and at table, in trouble, in England, etc., etc.,”—<i>The +Boston Times.</i></p> + +<p>“Take it all in all, we think the most delightful book that Max O’Rell +has written is his last published, entitled ‘Jacques Bonhomme.’”—<i>Home +Journal, Boston.</i></p></div> + +<div class="verd center"> +<p class="f90">NEW YORK</p> +<p>CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> +<p class="f80 sc">104 & 106 Fourth Avenue</p></div> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> + +<div class="verd center"> +<p class="f150 sc">JOHN BULL, Jr.,</p> + +<p class="f80">OR</p> + +<p class="f120">French as She is Traduced.</p> + +<p>By MAX O’RELL,</p> + +<p class="f80"><i>AUTHOR OF</i></p> +<p class="f90"><i>JONATHAN AND HIS CONTINENT</i>.</p> + +<p class="f80 pt2">With a Preface by <span class="sc">George C. Eggleston</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p class="center f80">Boards, flexible; price, 50 cents. Cloth, gilt top, unique, +$1.00.</p> + +<div class="quote"> +<p>“There is not a page in this delightful little volume that +does not sparkle.”—<i>Phila. Press.</i></p> + +<p>“One expects Max O’Rell to be distinctively funny. +He is regarded as a French Mark Twain.”—<i>The Beacon.</i></p> + +<p>“The whole theory of education is to be extracted from +these humorous sketches.”—<i>Baltimore American.</i></p> + +<p>“A volume which is bubbling over with brightness, and +is pervaded with wholesome common sense.”—<i>N. Y. Com. +Advertiser.</i></p> + +<p>“May be placed among those favored volumes whose +interest is not exhausted by one perusal, but which may be +taken up again with a renewal of the entertainment afforded +by the first reading.”—<i>Boston Gazette.</i></p></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="verd center"> +<p>CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> +<p class="f80 sc">104 & 106 Fourth Avenue, New York</p></div> + +<div class="pt2"> </div> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="pt2"> </div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Frenchman in America, by Max O'Rell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FRENCHMAN IN AMERICA *** + +***** This file should be named 32261-h.htm or 32261-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/2/6/32261/ + +Produced by Marius Masi, Chris Curnow and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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