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/ 
 
TRAVEL AND TALK 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
BOOKS BY THE REV. H. R. HAWEIS, M.A. 
 
 THOUGHTS FOR THE TIMES. 
 
 SPEECH IN SEASON. 
 
 CURRENT COIN. 
 
 ARROWS IN THE AIR. .« 
 
 POETS IN THE PULPIT. 
 
 UNSECTARIAN FAMILY PRAYERS. 
 
 WINGED WORDS. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF THE AGES. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE FOUR. 
 
 THE PICTURE OF JESUS. 
 
 THE PICTURE OF PAUL. 
 
 THE CONQUERING CROSS. 
 
 THE KEY OF DOCTRINE AND PRACTICE. 
 
 THE BROAD CHURCH. 
 
 MUSIC AND MORALS. 
 
 MY MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 ASHES TO ASHES. 
 
 AMERICAN HUMORISTS. 
 
 PET ; or, Pastimes and Penalties. 
 
 LIFE OF SIR MORELL MACKENZIE. 
 
jfH'v. — 
 
 ,-[ 
 
TK 
 
 \ 
 
 MY 
 
 AU 
 
 NE^ 
 
TRAX'EL AND TALK 
 
 1885-93-95 
 
 MY HUNDRED THOUSAND MILES OF TRAVEL 
 
 THROUGH 
 
 AMERICA CANADA 
 
 AUSTRALIA NEW ZEALAND 
 
 TASMANIA 
 
 CEYLON 
 
 AND 
 
 THE PARADISES OF THE PACIFIC 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. H. R. HAWEIS, M.A. 
 
 INCUMBENT OK ST. JAMES's, WESTMORELAND ST. 
 AUTHOR OF 'thoughts FOR THE TIMES ' ' MUSIC AND MORALS' ETC. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. - VOL. I. 
 
 UNiV£R3"'""V \ 
 
 WITH TWO PORTRJAITS _ ^ . , ' 
 
 ; MOUNT ALUSuN, j 
 
 LIBRARY. ^ 
 
 LONDON ^ 
 
 CHATTO .i- ^vr^•DU^. laCCAnfLl.Y 
 NEW YORK ; DODD, MEAD, & COMPANY 
 
 1896 
 
fRINTED HV 
 
 SrOTTISWOODU AND CO., NEW-STREET S<^VAUF. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 
PREFACE 
 
 I HAVE no preface to offer— no explanation to 
 make. 
 
 These volumes soeak for themselves : those who 
 are interested in me and my travels and observations 
 will read them, and the others can leave them alone. 
 
 Writers arc sometimes vain enough to imagine 
 that what amuses them must necessarily amuse other 
 people : I am under no such delusion, and am there- 
 fore quite prepared to receive with resignation and 
 meekness the neglect of the public and the strictures 
 of the Press, or vice versa. 
 
 I have yielded, perhaps rashly, to the representa- 
 tions of my publishers, and admitted two portraits. 
 For the first I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. 
 Frederick A. Atkins, editor of 'The Young Man,' 
 and for the second to the eminent photographers^ 
 Messrs. Russell & Sons of Baker Street. 
 
 These volumes only include my travels outside 
 Europe from 1885 to 1895. 
 
[I 
 
 VI 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 I have two more volumes in view dealing with 
 my travels in Europe from 1855 to 1885. But as I 
 wish to conciliate everybody. I do not promise to 
 publish them-I only threaten to do so. 
 
 Queen's IIousr, Chelsea 
 1896. 
 
 H. R. HAWEIS, M.A. 
 
 I 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 I. Who am I 
 
 Called to Boston, U.S.A., to i 
 
 deliver the Lowell Lectures I 
 
 PACK 
 
 in 1885, through Howells, 
 the Novelist . , , j 
 
 IL My First Voyage, 1865 
 A White Sta«- Ship, 'TheGer- i The Young Wic'ovv 
 
 •"''^"•c' • • . . 2 I English Cads 
 
 The Little Frenchman . . 3 j Mr. Henry Arthur Jones; 
 A Death on Board . • 4 j Playvright 
 Turner and the Black Sails . 6 I Mr. Howard Pa-l. Emcrfxiner 
 
 6 
 6 
 
 7 
 7 
 
 in. On the Hub of the Universe 
 Robbed at Boston . . S * Hard Science ' 
 
 Good Advice . . .8 Winds ! 
 
 My First Platform Appearance j Crowded Audiences 
 
 at Boston . . . 9 | My Belgian Bell . 
 
 IV. Boston Days 
 
 to 
 
 the 
 
 9 
 II 
 12 
 
 My Distinguished Listeners . 14 
 
 Preaching at Boston . .15 
 
 At Phillips Brooks's . .16 
 
 At Harvard University . .16 
 
 At Cambridge Theological 
 College . . . .15 
 
 Boston Watch- dogs Bark worse 
 than they Bite . . .15 
 
 V. Dr. Phillips Brooks 
 'Moth-eaten Old Angels . 16 ; P. Brooks's Preaching 
 
 P. Brooks's Aloofness 
 Our Last Meeting 
 
 17 
 
 17 I P. Brooks and the Doctrine 
 17 ; of the Trinity . . .19 
 
VIU 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 VL Phillips Brooks's Letters 
 
 Irvitation to Preach 
 
 On Tangier 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 21 
 . 21 
 
 Gratitude for Sympathy 
 Sick Dog's Ingratitude . 
 
 VI L 
 
 My iMrst Meeting . 
 Hohiies on Margaret Fuller 
 Holmes on Edgar Allan Foe 
 Holmes on Emerson 
 On Bostonians 
 
 Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes 
 
 . 28 ' ' I Live on Interruptions' 
 29 Agreeable Egotism 
 29 Holmes as a Chinese Clod 
 Holmes and the Bishop 
 ' Wear a good Hat ' 
 
 PAGE 
 
 • 23 
 . 26 
 
 30 
 30 
 
 29 
 29 
 
 31 
 31 
 31 
 
 VIII. Holmes's Table Talk 
 
 On Lecturing . . .32 
 On Longfellow and Emerson. 33 
 
 Emerson's desultory Method 
 of Composition . . .34 
 
 IX. O. W. Holmes's Letters 
 
 On ' My Musical Life ' . • 35 : Last Letter . 
 
 Declines to Lecture in : Last Poem . 
 
 London . . . -37 Farewell Visit 
 
 Evangeline ' 
 
 X. Longfellow's MSS. 
 , 43 I ' Hiawatha ' 
 
 XL Bryant, Longfellow, Emerson 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher offers ( Letter from Longfellow , 
 
 Me his Pulpit . . • 44 i Letter from Emerson . 
 Letter from Bryant . • 45 , Missed Both . 
 
 XII. Farewell, Boston ! 
 ivcception at the Conservatoire 46 | Speeches 
 
 39 
 40 
 
 41 
 
 44 
 
 46 
 46 
 46 
 
 55 
 
 NEW YORK 
 XIII. Courtlandt Palmer 
 
 The Nineteenth 
 
 Club 
 Visit to England . 
 
 Century | Hears Henry Ward Beecher 
 
 . 56 I Preach . . . .60 
 
 . 57 Presentiments of Death . . 61 
 
 XIV. Henry Ward Beecher 
 
 H. W. Beecher in London, I Estimate of H. W. Beecher 
 
 62 I A Sermon at Brooklyn . 
 
 1866-86 
 De Witt 
 Australia 
 
 Talmage in 
 
 I edit His Sermons 
 62 I A Letter from Beecher . 
 
 XV. Andrew Carnegie 
 A Supper at Delmonico's . 69 | Canvas-back Ducks 
 
 63 
 
 65 
 67 
 
 67 
 
 70 
 
Contents of the First Volume 
 
 IX 
 
 XVI, IIeber Newton 
 
 PAGE 
 
 At Long Island . . .70 
 A Broad Church Theologian . 7 1 
 Bishop Potter suspends his 
 
 Course . . . .72 
 Heber Newton on Father 
 
 Ignatius . . . .72 
 
 PACK 
 
 Newton on Ultramontanes . 74 
 Newton on the Archbishop 
 
 of Canterbury . . .74 
 An Excuse for the Bishops . 75 
 An explanatory Letter from 
 
 Hebe Newton . . .76 
 
 XVII. Dr, Henry Charles Potter, Bishop 
 Influence of Bishop II. C. | Dr. Peabody and Arch- 
 
 Potter 
 
 . 78 I bishop Tait 
 
 79 
 
 XVIII. Presiden'i "rover Cleveland 
 
 Is Cleveland an ' England- 
 Hater'? . . . . 
 Opening of Congress, 1885 . 
 Visit to the White House 
 
 I Cleveland's Estimate of 
 
 80 j (Speaker) Carlisle and 
 
 80 I Abrani Hewitt, Canon 
 
 Si Farrar, Parnell . . .82 
 
 Interview with the President . 82 ' Miss Cleveland 
 
 86 
 
 XIX. Abram Hewitt 
 
 Invites Me to New Jersey . 88 j A Letter from Sir Morell 
 
 A Private Railroad . . 88 j Mackenzie . . .90 
 
 Abram Hewitt and Sir Morell | Interesting Letters from Abram 
 
 Mackenzie . . • 89 j Hewitt . , , .91 
 
 The Fighter ot Monopolies 
 An able Speaker . 
 
 XX. Charles Sumner 
 
 93 j Sumner's Visit to St. James's, 
 
 94 I Marylebone . . .95 
 
 XXI. John Bigelow 
 
 My Visit to John Bigelow on j Dinner at New York 
 
 Hudson River . . . 96 | Conkling 
 
 96 
 
 96 
 
 XXII. Mrs. I011N Bigelow 
 
 Her Clever Eccentricities . 98 
 Her Personal Attractions . 99 
 
 Luncheon at Queen's House . 100 
 Mrs. Bigelow and Ouida . 102 
 
 XXIII. Mrs. 'Columbia' 
 
 Letter from John Bigelow . 104 
 Mrs. Barnard at Home . 105 
 
 Worn out . 
 Our Escape 
 
 105 
 105 
 
 A Select Girls' 
 Miss Bennett 
 
 School 
 
 XXIV. Ogontz 
 
 107 
 107 
 
 The Girls' Rooms 
 Our Talks and Walks 
 
 108 
 109 
 
Travel and Talk 
 
 XXV. Thk School Theatre 
 
 My Lectures 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "3 
 
 XXVL Fare\n.^i.i., Ocontz 
 
 My Testimonial TJouquet .1141 An Ogontz Visit to Queen's 
 True Sentiment . . 114 | House . , .114 
 
 XXVIL Cornell University 
 
 Professor Corson . 
 Freedom of Thought 
 
 . IIS 
 . 116 
 
 Preachers at Cornell Uni- 
 versity . . . ,117 
 
 Two Sermons 
 
 XXVIIL Cornell Chapel 
 
 . 119 I The Professor of Elocution . 120 
 
 XXIX. My Cornell Sermon on Religious Consciousness, 
 WITH A Survey of the Religions of the World 131 
 
 Girl Students 
 
 Preaching at Vassar and 
 
 Poughkeepsie . . -133 
 
 A Glass of Sherry . • 134 
 
 XXX. Vassar College 
 
 132 ' Lecturing as a Total Ab- 
 
 stamer . . . -135 
 Charles Kingsley at Vassar . 135 
 Principal Taylor's Letter . 136 
 
 Brynmawr . 
 American and 
 Girls 
 
 XXXL American Girls 
 
 English 
 
 137 
 13S 
 
 The Secret of Intermar- 
 riages 
 Lost Opportunities 
 
 . 13S 
 • 139 
 
 Undervalued 
 
 XXXII. Walt Whitman 
 . 140 I Ilis Merits 
 
 141 
 
 XXXIII. Walt at Home 
 
 Walt in 1885 . . . 143 j Walt on Browning, Tenny- 
 Visit to Camden to see Him. 143 | son and En^erson . . 143 
 
 XXXIV. Niagara 
 
 Free of Toll 
 Secret of the Rapids 
 
 145 
 146 
 
 Captain Webb's Death . 147 
 
 A Hell of Waters . .148 
 
 XXXV. The Cave of the Winds 
 
 A Million Tons of Water 
 A Perilous Descent 
 
 147 
 148 
 
 Tyndall on the Cave of the 
 Winds . . . .151 
 
Contents of the First Volume 
 
 XXXVI. Lectures and Agents in America 
 
 Behind the Scenes 
 Matthew Arnold . 
 Bradlaugh . 
 George Augustus Sala . 
 
 WAGE 
 
 • 152 i Charles Dickens . 
 
 • ^>3 Brandram . 
 ■ 154 Dean Farrar 
 
 • '54 , ^Spurgeon declines America 
 
 XXXVIL Profits 
 
 To draw or not to draw . 155 
 Royal rnstitution Lecturers . 156 
 
 Divers Methods . 
 The Fatigues of Travel 
 
 XI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 154 
 '54 
 154 
 
 156 
 157 
 
 XXXVIII. Reporters 
 Blunders pardonable and un- I Reporters should be wel- 
 
 • 159 i corned and assisted . ,160 
 
 pardonable 
 
 MONTREAL 
 
 XXXIX. Canada 
 A Newspaper 'Special' . 161 I Specimen of some « Per- 
 Smallpox at Montreal . . 163 1 'sonals ' . . ,53 
 
 XL. Kingston 
 President Grant of ; The Kingston Boys express 
 
 Kmgston University . 164 { their Feelings . ^ ^ 165 
 
 XLL The Honourable John Arisott 
 I'^Br^tkh'^ p" ^'''''' •, u- '^7 Sir Charles Nicholson and 
 World """'' '^' . ' '^' Honourable John 
 
 A,i™ \ r^'- ' • ^^7 Abbott on Emigration 171 
 
 Advantages to Emigrants . 16S , The American Thfeat [ 172 
 
 XLII. Mr. Abbott's Opinions 
 A Burning Question . • 174 | The British Government .174 
 
 XLIIL Sir William Dawson 
 
 ^'u7?r'''^'5, ^^^'' ^"^^ ^'' Dawson at 
 
 William Flower • . 175 
 
 Sir W. Dawson's Early 
 
 Passion for Natural 
 
 History . . . . I?? 
 Sir Charles Lyell ." ^ 175 
 
 Museum 
 Discoveries . 
 Writings 
 
 A reverent Mind . 
 The British Association 
 
 Montreal 
 
 176 
 177 
 177 
 179 
 179 
 
xu 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 XLIV. What is America ? 
 Where is ' Unllcd'? 
 
 XLV. My Second \'oyagk 
 
 Summons to Cliica£To . . 183 ' Accidents, Reason of . 
 
 Mr. Ismay .... 184 Mr. Ismay's ' Idleness ' 
 
 Mr. Ismay on the White A Suggestion to Mr. Ismay 
 
 Star Line . . . 185 . How to save Waste 
 
 XLVL On Board the 'Majestic' 
 
 Provisions for a Voyage . 191 
 English and American Girls 
 on Board . . . .192 
 
 Pastimes 
 
 Captain Parsell . 
 The Boy that ate 
 
 XLVII. Reflections 
 
 Is Chicago really so Bad ? .195 
 Old World Wickedness . 195 
 
 New World Wickedness 
 Leo XIII, 's Perspicacity 
 
 PACK 
 
 182 
 
 186 
 189 
 190 
 190 
 
 192 
 
 193 
 194 
 
 19s 
 196 
 
 XLVIII. The Parliament ol" Religions 
 
 The Conferences . . .197 
 Mazoomda — Dr. Momerie . 197 
 Cardinal Gibbons . .197 
 Dharmapala and Vive- 
 kananda . . . .198 
 
 ' Cocksure ' Cook . .198 
 Vivekananda's Speech . .199 
 A Cosmopolitan Brother- 
 hood , . . .201 
 
 XLIX. My Speech 
 
 Process of Reporting . . 202 I The Roman Catholic Bishop 205 
 The Japanese Theologian . 204 | The Mormons . . . 206 
 
 L. Verbatim Rei-ort of My Speech 
 
 Music a Growing Art 
 
 . 207 I Patriotism in Music 
 
 21 
 
 Connection between Music i Gregorian Chants in Eng- 
 
 and Morals . . . 209 | land . . . .215 
 
 Thought without Feeling is | Let the People Sing . .216 
 
 Dead . . . . 210 i Music Controls and Purifies 
 
 National Music . 
 
 213 
 
 Emotion 
 
 LI. The Chicago Exhibition 
 Illusive Beauty . . . 219 | Temper of the Architects 
 
 LI I. A Day at the Fair 
 
 Chinese Theatre . 
 Brazilian Dancing Girls 
 Ferris Wheel 
 
 217 
 
 219 
 
 220 
 
 Chairing . 
 
 . 221 
 
 220 
 
 200,000 to be fed 
 
 . 222 
 
 221 
 
 The Beauty Show 
 
 . 223 
 
Contents of the First Volume xiii 
 
 The Storm Gathers 
 The Storm Bursts 
 
 LI 1 1. A SliNSATION 
 
 • AGE 
 • 225 
 
 Moral of the Fair and the 
 
 PAOK 
 
 220 
 
 Parliament 
 
 227 
 
 A Retr(>.pcct 
 I'aris, 1797 , 
 Madrid, 1827, ^:c. 
 
 LIV. Some othkr ExiiiniriONs 
 
 . 228 
 . 229 
 
 230 
 
 Dublin, 1850 
 I'aris, 1849 . 
 Birmingham, 1849 
 
 230 
 232 
 
 LV. PiUNCi: Alhkrt's Gknius 
 
 Sir Robcrl Peel and Mr. The Queen's Anxiety . 234 
 
 Labouchcre . . . 233 ♦ The Prince looks 111 ' . 234 
 
 Colonel Sibthorpe and the Cole and Scott Russell . 234 
 
 O'Oorman . . . 233 Joseph Paxton 'a Common 
 
 Lord Granville and JSir , Gardener's Boy ' . . 234 
 
 Stafford Northcote . . 233 | The Government . . . 234 
 
 LVI. Tin: Great ExninrnoN, 1851 
 
 Prince Albert's great Tri- 
 umph .... 235 
 Prince Albert's Speech . 235 
 
 South Kensington Museum . 236 
 Fisheries, Ilcaltheries. 
 
 Colinderies, (S:c. 
 
 236 
 
 LVII. CoLLAi'SE OF British Phlegm 
 The Morose Briton . . 237 | Music and Bright Eyes 
 
 Ices and Champagne . 
 
 237 ! Jubilee Weather. 
 
 238 
 238 
 
 LVIII. The Colour Art 
 
 Fireworks .... 240 i A Tribute to ' Music and 
 Mr. A. Wallace Rimington j Morals' .... 240 
 
 and his Colour Organ . 240 j An independent Art . . 240 
 
 LIX. Fire and Water Colour 
 
 Sir Francis Bolton . .241 
 Coloured Fountains from 
 below .... 241 
 
 The Crystal Palace 
 Sir George Grove 
 Old Memories 
 
 • 243 
 
 • 244 
 
 • 245 
 
 Skeletons 
 
 MORMON LAND 
 
 LX. Utah Desert and Frisco Town 
 . 247 I Degraded Indians 
 
 The Mint Village 
 The Rev. Dr. Church 
 
 LXI. A Mormon Invitation 
 
 . 248 I The Mormon Elders 
 
 248 I An Invitation 
 
 • 247 
 
 249 
 
 -49 
 
XIV 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Lxir. 
 
 TAGE PAfJE 
 
 My early Mormon Lee- | President Q. Cannon and 
 
 lures 
 
 249 I Bishop Clawson 
 
 LXIIl. 
 
 Talk with the Polygamists . 251 ' General M'Cook differs 
 
 The Mormon Theory . , 255 A Manifesto 
 My Talk with the Prophet Mormon Murders 
 
 and Twelve Apostles . 255 , Conflicting Evidence . 
 
 250 
 
 255 
 256 
 
 256 
 
 257 
 
 LXIV. Risk of Joseph Smith 
 Joseph's Visions 258 
 
 LXV. Thk Uook of Mormon 
 The Golden Plates . , 259 | Another Account . . 260 
 
 LXVL 
 
 The New Church at Fayette . 262 | Anecdotes of Joseph Smith . 263 
 
 Troubles 
 Joseph in Danger 
 
 LXVII. New Sion, 1833 
 
 . 264 I Expulsion from Ne\y Sion 
 . 266 
 
 LXVIII. Nauvoo, 'the Beautiful' 
 First False Stej) . . . 269 j Second False Step 
 
 LXIX. Causes of Unpopularity 
 
 Mormons earliest Aboli- I Mormons Polygamists 
 
 tionists ... 
 Mormons Spiritualists . 
 
 . 269 j Mormons against Political 
 . 269 I Corruption 
 
 LXX. Death of the Prophet Joseph Smith 
 
 An Investigation . . 270 Trial .... 
 
 Forebodings . . . 270 Imprisonment 
 
 Flight . . . .271 Assassination 
 
 Return . . . .271 Funeral 
 
 LXXI. Estimate of Joseph Smith 
 
 Was He an Impostor ? . 273 
 
 Joseph and Occultism . . 274 
 
 Joseph a Strong Medium 
 Smith's honafdc^ f 
 
 266 
 
 269 
 
 269 
 270 
 
 272 
 
 272 
 273 
 273 
 
 275 
 
 275 
 
 LXXII. The Exodus 
 
 Murderers Acquitted . 
 Arrest of Brigham Young 
 Sorrow on the Mississippi 
 A Terrible Pilgrimage . 
 
 276 Spring 
 
 277 I Last Days of Nauvoo . 
 
 277 i Sufferings of the Fugitives . 281 
 
 278 , Touching Episode . . 282 
 
 278 
 279 
 
( .7 
 
 V 
 
 '•a 
 
 
 
 Contents of the First Volume 
 
 XV 
 
 LXXIII. Arrivai- at Salt Laku 
 
 July 23, 1847 
 City mapped out 
 Early Dangers 
 Indians 
 
 rAc.r. PAGK, 
 
 . 282 Arrival of Brigham Young . 285 
 
 . 283 Ilis Wisdom . . .286 
 
 . 283 Ikighani appointed Govcr- 
 
 . 284 , nor, 1 85 1 . . . 287 
 
 LXXIV. Thf, Grkat Reeellion (?) 
 
 Shady U.S.A. Judges at 
 
 Brigham's Wrath and 
 
 Salt Lake . . • 288 Pluck 
 
 Blunder of President Ikigham's Statesm.inship 
 
 Buchanan . . . 28S Hrigham's Triumph 
 
 An Army despatched against Spoiling the Egyptians 
 
 the Mormons . . . 2S9 , ^ Sic vos iion voOis^ 
 
 290 
 292 
 
 293 
 294 
 
 294 
 
 LXX\'. U.S.A. Prksikents and the Mormons 
 Lincoln . . . • 294 [ Grant 
 
 295 
 
 LXXVI. The Eight for Polygamy 
 
 Persecution 
 Ruined Homes 
 
 296 
 296 
 
 Timely Revelation 
 Polygamy abandoned 
 
 297 
 297 
 
 Completeness 
 
 Life . . , 
 
 His Zeal for Education 
 
 LXXVII. Brigiiam's Last Days 
 
 of his 
 
 . 298 
 . 298 
 
 His Sermon on taking the 
 
 Sacrament . . . 298 
 His last Words . . . 298 
 
 A Letter from W. Cannon . 
 
 I arrive at Salt Lake City . 
 A Drive with the Mormon 
 Ladies . . . .301 
 
 Charming Mrs. Goesbeck . 302 
 
 ' Music and Morals ' at Salt 
 Lake .... 303 
 
 LXXVHI 
 
 299 
 360 
 
 General M'Cook again . 303 
 
 The Mormons give nic a 
 
 Concert .... 303 
 I Lecture to the Mormons . 303 
 Mormon Horrors discounted 304 
 Audi alteram part en i . . 304 
 
 LXXIX. Estimate of Mormonism 
 
 Leading Truths . . . 305 
 That God reveals Himself 
 now .... 305 
 
 That there is a living Com- 
 munion of Saints . 
 
 306 
 The City of the Saints 
 That He sends Prophets thrown open . . . 307 
 
 now .... 305 Entrance of the Christians . 30S 
 That He enshrines Truth Introduction of Gin Palaces, 
 
 in Sacred Books now . 306 ' Houses of 111 Eame, and 
 That He ever Atones for j I'olicemen . . . 30S 
 
 Sin Original and Actual 306 1 Utah Territory proclaimed a 
 
 Hope for the Dead 
 
 306 i State, 1896 
 
 308 
 
XVI 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I 
 
 PULPn AND PLATFORM OUTRE MER 
 
 San Francisco, 1893 
 
 Hcatcn Tracks avoided . 310 | I it^nore Church I'ai lies 
 
 LXXX. At Trinity Cihkcii, I'RAncisco, 1894 
 Preach at New Orleans «•// Crowds at Francisco . 
 
 route 
 
 311 
 
 Various Criticisms 
 
 LXXXL Ai Stanford-Lei.and University 
 
 a Girl Graduate . . • 314 
 
 My University Sermon . 315 
 
 A (jenial Congregation . 316 
 
 1 )can Stanley's Mot 
 Preaching at S. Jose 
 Rev. Dr. Wakefield 
 
 lAC.K 
 
 3»o 
 
 311 
 312 
 
 316 
 316 
 316 
 
 LXXXIL The Bishoi' or California Criticised 
 
 Preaching at the Metro- * Newspaper Enterprise' . 318 
 
 politan Temple . -317 Bishop Nichols . . ■ 321 
 
 ' 2,000 turned away ' . . 317 1 My courteous Reception by 
 
 American 'Gassing' . . 317 | the Bishop and Clergy of 
 
 Nonconformists invite me to the Diocese . . .322 
 
 Preach. . . . 317 ' I Address the Episcopal 
 
 The Bishop disapproves -317 ' Rectors on Revivalism . 323 
 
 I submit . . . . 317 I Address the Presbyterian 
 
 Letters from the Bishop . 318 1 Clergy on Sectarianism 
 
 324 
 
 LXXXIIL Major Hooper 
 
 I Address the Ministers of ] Major Hooper's 
 
 all Religious Denomina- 
 tions by Request . . 329 
 
 kind 
 
 Protection 
 Saved from Friends 
 
 • 329 
 
 • 329 
 
 LXXXIV. My American Agents 
 
 My Hebrew Secretary . . 330 
 
 Espionage . . . • 33^ 1 
 
 Lionising . . . -331 
 
 Lectures Handicapped . 332 
 
 Invitation from the Earl of 
 
 Aberdeen . . . 333 
 
 A Rush from Vancouver to 
 
 Winnipeg . . .333 
 
 LXXXV. The Rev. Dr. Garrett 
 
 Preaching at Seattle . . 336 1 On Colonel IngersoU in 
 
 Aft'ecting Scene . . . 336 Seattle Opera House . 339 
 
 Overflowing Congregations . 336 Public Reception at Van- 
 
 The Rev. Dr. (Barrett's couver .... 339 
 
 Letter .... 337 ' Note on Order of Events . 340 
 
VfER 
 
 
 I'Af.K, 
 
 'S 
 
 . 310 
 
 i04 
 
 
 * 
 
 • 311 
 
 • 
 
 . 312 
 
 Y 
 
 
 , 
 
 . 316 
 
 • 
 
 . 316 
 
 • 
 
 • 316 
 
 [SKD 
 
 
 se' 
 
 . 318 
 
 
 • 321 
 
 tion 
 
 l.y 
 
 ;icrgy 
 
 of 
 
 
 ^->T 
 
 * 
 
 • J-- 
 
 pisco 
 
 )al 
 
 lism 
 
 • j2j 
 
 byterian 
 
 lism 
 
 • 324 
 
 k 
 
 ind 
 
 . 
 
 • 329 
 
 • 
 
 • 329 
 
 '^arl of 
 
 333 
 
 iver to 
 
 
 • 
 
 333 
 
 oil in 
 
 
 e 
 Van- 
 
 339 
 
 nts 
 
 339 
 340 
 
 TRAVEL AND TALK 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 I 
 
 Who am I— that I should be called to Boston, 
 U.S.A., Hub of the Universe, to deliver the I^owell 
 Lectures ? 
 
 ' Ah, well ! ' I muttered approvingly with a little 
 self-satisfied sigh, ' my humble merits have at last 
 been discovered ! ' 
 
 ' But stay,' says a voice within, * did Boston dis- 
 cover you — or did you ' 
 
 * Well — yes, I did — in a sort of way. I do remember 
 me now that I desired much to see Boston, per- 
 adventure to lecture at the ' 
 
 ' And you let them know it ? ' 
 
 ' Hush ! Have you not heard that no one who 
 offers himself to Boston is ever asked to be Lowell 
 Lecturer } It would be like offering yourself to the 
 Royal Institution for a show Friday night. Still, 
 I admit just dropping a hint in a postscript to good 
 Mr. Howells the novelist — who in a casual con- 
 versation with Mr. Augustus Lowell — and so on.' 
 
 But the ocean rolled between. 
 VOL. 1 J5 
 
■9 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 II 
 
 Mv First Voyage, 1885. — I step out of my Liver- 
 pool hotel and into my * White Star ' nppartcmcnt vieublc 
 — what is the difference ? The h"[^ht, being electric, 
 is better ; the bells are more frequently answered, and 
 consequently oftencr rung; the attendants are more 
 civil, and, under trying circumstances which I may 
 allude to presently, more sympathetic ; the food is 
 plentiful, cheap, and excellent ; coffee-rooms, smoking- 
 rooms, bath-rooms within easy reach. A pianoforte 
 and perpetual sea-motion seem almost the only draw- 
 backs — but then some people on board are sure to 
 like the one without minding the other ; to them a 
 few days on the Atlantic between Liverpool and New 
 York on one of these vast oceanic hotels must be 
 happiness unalloyed. 
 
 For about a day and a half I was engaged with 
 the steward on some urgent affairs of so private a 
 nature that no one except the doctor was admitted to 
 see me. His remarks were conclusive and valuable ; 
 and finding, towards the end of the second day, after 
 prolonged, indefatigable, and I may say sleepless 
 attention, a considerable abatement in the pressure 
 of business, I concluded to dine at the general tabic. 
 
 Up to this time I had been too busy to dine at all. 
 
 The * lots ' on board were of a mixed character. 
 The noisy lot were less objectionable than usual, 
 headed by a vivacious Frenchman, who by day or- 
 ganised as many of the male folk as were willing into 
 rope-pulling and other rollicking bands on deck. By 
 night, seated at the piano— for he turned out to be an 
 organist with a fatally retentive memory — the versa- 
 
1 
 
 my Liver- 
 ictit meiiblc 
 rr electric, 
 vcrcd, and 
 arc more 
 ch I may 
 lie food is 
 , smokin^- 
 pianoforte 
 only draw- 
 re sure to 
 to them a 
 d1 and New 
 s must be 
 
 ^acred with 
 
 private a 
 
 .dmitted to 
 
 I valuable ; 
 
 day, after 
 
 sleepless 
 
 pressure 
 
 ral table. 
 
 inc at all. 
 
 character, 
 lan usual, 
 )y day or- 
 [illing into 
 leek. By 
 it to be an 
 Ithe versa- 
 
 Bo.STON 3 
 
 tile Celt would extemporise upon every theme from 
 ' Lohengrin ' to ' Yankee Doodle,' and, as he was 
 not difficult about encores^ ten o'clock, late for on 
 shipboard, would find him still surrounded by two 
 or three musical fanatic^, pounding away at the 
 ' Dame Blanche ' or ' Faust,' to the confusion of the 
 sleepless and unmusical in adjoining state-rooms. 
 He was a right cheery man, and although 1 abhorred 
 the variations on the ' White Lady,' I owed him no 
 grudge. One by one the sullen Teutons on board 
 gave in to his irresistible vivacity, and found them- 
 selves careering about deck next morning, on some 
 wild-goose game under the little man's despotic 
 orders, like so many schoolboys. 
 
 O proud Britons ! you never, never will be 
 slaves, we know ; but you had to surrender to that 
 impetuous little Frenchman, with his mischievous, 
 laughing mouth, and his bristly, clean-trimmed beard. 
 When you mobbed him, crushed his hat over his 
 eyes, and finally, in your own rough and peculiar 
 horse-play, hoisted him aloft and bore him kicking 
 and laughing to the bulwarks with fell intent to 
 hurl him overboard, the Frenchman still conquered ; 
 for had he not shaken you out of your national 
 stiffness and reserve, and was he not, as he stood 
 waving his crushed hat with imperturbable good 
 humour after the fray, the very embodiment of what 
 is almost your national bete noire, ' Ic don de la 
 gaiete * ? 
 
 There were sadder elements on board. The 
 ' Germanic ' was pretty full. After the first day or 
 two, the splendid dining-room was well furnished 
 with guests. The third day there came in late a 
 
 B 2 
 
4 Travel and Talk 
 
 slender emaciated young man, leaning on the arm of 
 a pretty young woman of about twenty-five. She 
 arranged his cushions for him, and he sat very still at 
 the dinner table. His tall pale forehead, and large 
 dark eyes that seemed to take little note of what was 
 going on, gave him a statuesque and even cadaverous 
 appearance. After dinner he remained seated in the 
 dining-room, with his wife beside him. She spoke to 
 him occasionally, even read him little bits out of 
 some book, apparently humorous. But he hardly 
 noticed her, and she soon relapsed into silence, pre- 
 tending to read, as it seemed to me, with a forced 
 composure of face. Suddenly she laid down her book, 
 rose, and helped the invalid to his feet. He was very 
 weak, and staggered out of the room supported ten- 
 derly by his wife. All eyes were turned towards them 
 for a moment ; the general talk flagged ; the saloon 
 door closed. We never saw him alive again. That 
 night he died. I learned from the doctor that he had 
 gone abroad to some German springs for his health, 
 and, getting worse, had started, hoping only to live 
 through the passage, and die at home. At eleven 
 o'clock next morning the poor young wife sent for 
 me, and I went to her room. He was lying like a 
 marble effigy, not much more still, not much more 
 pale, than he had looked a few hours before at the 
 dinner table, but the eyes were closed, and the light was 
 gone out for ever. So strange it seemed— and she 
 sat tearless. For months, weeks, and days she had 
 waited for this : it had come now, and she could not 
 weep. But she could talk a little, enough to tell of 
 two lives that once had been supremely blest, and now 
 she could even bear to speak of her irreparable loss — 
 it was better so. At such times we are all utterly 
 
 .» 
 
Boston 
 
 5 
 
 e arm of 
 ve. She 
 ry still at 
 ind large 
 what was 
 idaverous 
 :ed in the 
 ; spoke to 
 ts out of 
 le hardly 
 nice, prc- 
 a forced 
 her book, 
 2 was very 
 Drted ten- 
 ards them 
 he saloon 
 tin. That 
 lat he had 
 lis health, 
 y to live 
 !^\t eleven 
 I sent for 
 like a 
 uch more 
 )re at the 
 light was 
 and she 
 she had 
 :ould not 
 to tell of 
 , and now 
 ble loss — 
 11 utterly 
 
 helpless to comfort one another — the help must come 
 from within and from above. So we knelt down by 
 the body at rest. She could not bear to have him 
 laid in his coffin and no prayer said ; and after that I 
 left. About two o'clock next day 1 looked down from 
 the upper deck, and noticed a great stir among the 
 passengers. Four sailors passed through the crowd 
 bearing a coffin draped with a Union Jack for a pall. 
 The young wife's entreaties that her husband should 
 not be lowered into the sea in a shotted hammock had 
 prevailed with our good captain, and the coffin was 
 placed in a boat swung on deck. The poor young 
 lady was singularly composed and reasonable ; she 
 shrank from leaving her room or facing any of the 
 passengers. But in the darkness she allowed herself 
 to be brought up on deck to breathe the fresh air, and 
 she stood for some time looking towards the boat 
 which contained all that she cared for in this world. 
 I am told that deaths on board these great ocean 
 steamers are common enough. People crossing and 
 recrossing for their health are not unfrequently sur- 
 prised by that black privateer at whose summons 
 commercial and pleasure crafts alike have to strike 
 their flags. 
 
 I continued pacing the deck for some time. There 
 was no moon ; the ship's lanterns gave a vague light ; 
 the stars were out ; a few people lingered in their 
 folding chairs on deck ; the dim boat hoisted astern 
 with its sad freight seemed to draw me. About this 
 time last night she had closed her book suddenly, and 
 he had risen to take his last walk in this world, and 
 to-night the book of his life lay closed, the story 
 abruptly broken off at t) e age of thirty-two, with how 
 
6 Travel and Talk 
 
 many chapters unwritten ! As I turned round and 
 looked up at the tall masts faintly visible against the 
 sky, and then over into the gloomy waters through 
 which wc were rushing, the sails of the * Germanic ' 
 were set ; the ship's lights glared fitfully through the 
 black smoke ; there was something inexpressibly 
 gloomy and funereal about it all. I was irresistibly 
 reminded of Turner's ' Burial of Wilkic at Sea.' In 
 that picture the drooping half-furled sails arc seen to 
 be jet blacky and I have heard this condemned as 
 unnatural, and done for scenic effect. When asked 
 about it, Turner merely remarked that he was obliged 
 to paint the sails y^/ black. Above me now the great 
 square sails, white by day, stood out against the dim 
 starlit sky. They \\zxQ.jet black. Turner was right, 
 as usual ; and his critics were wrong, as usual. 
 
 The poor young widow had gone to her cabin, 
 not far from the dining-room, to spend her first 
 terrible night alone. She wanted to keep the coffin 
 with her one more night, but the captain was peremp- 
 tory, and she was resigned. We are in the habit of 
 sneering at French frivolity. On entering the saloon 
 I noticed the piano was shut. The little French 
 organist was sitting at the other end of the room 
 chatting with a few of his particular cronies, all very 
 quiet and subdued. He never opened the piano 
 again during the voyage. His gaiety seemed to have 
 received a check from which it could not recover. 
 True-hearted little man ! you never sought to know 
 that poor bereaved lady, but your respectful tribute 
 was not thrown away upon her. You did what you 
 could. That very night a noisy party of girls and 
 vulgar men squabbled over dominoes and cards till 
 
Boston 
 
 •ound and 
 gainst the 
 s through 
 ijcrmanic ' 
 roucrh the 
 xprcssibly 
 irrcsjstibly 
 Sea.' In 
 are seen to 
 lemned as 
 ^hen asked 
 ^'asobh'ged 
 / the great 
 st the dim 
 was right, 
 ual. 
 
 her cabin, 
 
 I her first 
 
 the cofifin 
 
 IS peremp- 
 
 ic habit of 
 
 he saloon 
 
 e Frencli 
 
 the room 
 
 s, all very 
 
 the piano 
 
 d to have 
 
 )t recover. 
 
 t to know 
 
 ul tribute 
 
 what you 
 
 girls and 
 
 cards till 
 
 ■'.V 
 ■1-V' 
 
 past eleven o'clock, laughing and joking boisterously, 
 close to the poor lady's room. They were English. 
 
 Mr. Henry Arthur Jones was on board ; he was 
 going to New York to bring out* Saints and Sinners/ 
 which had lately had such a run in London. He 
 doubted whether the satire on Dissent would be 
 appreciated in America, where all sects are equal, or 
 are supposed to be. Mr. Howard Paul and I did 
 our best to cheer him up. Indeed, the Americans 
 are quite as alive as we are to the tyranny of the con- 
 gregation over the minister, and to the occasional 
 vulgarity of the lay jack-m-office under the Voluntary 
 system in the New Republic ; and accordingly ' Saints 
 and Sinners' took in New York as well as in London. 
 
 Chit-chat, reading, writing and routine on board ; 
 an occasional unknown ship in sight on the horizon ; a 
 couple of little brown-and-white birds on our rigging, 
 so tame that the steerage passengers caught them and 
 senselessly put an end to their poor little lives. Once 
 some pretty dolphins sported at a respectful distance 
 round the vessel ; happily, they could not be caught. 
 A whale spouted far out to sea ; he was wiser still, 
 he could not even be seen. The fog-whistle blew 
 exaspcatingly all one night, and the next morn, the 
 ninth after leaving Liverpool, through a blinding 
 sheet of rain, we steamed into New York harbour. 
 
 Ill 
 
 On the Hub of the Universe.— After a 
 wretched night in a suffocating sleeping-car I got into 
 Boston about 9.30 a.m. Not a soul came to meet 
 
ipli 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 8 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 me ; nor did I know personally a soul in Boston, 
 Mr. Howclls, the novelist, being absent at the time. I 
 put up at a first-class hotel, which shall be nameless, 
 where I was robbed of about 50/. or more. My 
 room was entered, my locked box broken open, and 
 my cashbox abstracted. It being pretty evident 
 that the hotel-keeper was responsible for the whole 
 amount, he concluded tardily to pay me half. I 
 took it and left his hotel. Afem. — Never keep your 
 money in your box. 
 
 I had crept stealthily into Boston ; no reporter 
 called, no newspaper announced my arrival, till 
 Monday, when I was due at the Lowell Institute ; 
 but on Sunday several friends, to whom I had intro- 
 ductions, found me out, and called. On Monday I 
 received official visits from the Lowell Institute 
 Secretary, Dr. Cotting, and Mr. Augustus Lowell, and 
 went over to see the Huntingdon Hall, where the 
 Lowell Lectures are delivered. It holds about 1,000 
 people, and is on the same plan as the London 
 Institution, Finsbury Circus, but without galleries. 
 I had heard much of the Lowell audiences. Boston 
 being the hub of the U.S.A., the Lowell Institute 
 seems to be the hub of Boston. It is the American 
 Royal Institution, and, by paying heavier fees, prides 
 itself on securing the best lecturers and the most 
 enlightened audiences. I might well tremble at the 
 ordeal before me. In the course of the day I was 
 favoured with a great deal of good advice. I was told 
 the sort of lecture I was to give ; how I was to speak — 
 not too fast, not too slow ; not too loud, and not too low. 
 Above all, I was to be learned — abstruse with plenty 
 of hard science — and in fact prove myself generally 
 worthy of the aforesaid hub. 
 
in Boston, 
 he time. I 
 le nameless, 
 more. My 
 1 open, and 
 tty evident 
 ■ the whole 
 le half. I 
 r keep your 
 
 no reporter 
 arrival, till 
 
 I Institute ; 
 had intro- 
 Monday I 
 
 II Institute 
 Lowell, and 
 
 where the 
 
 ibout i,ooo 
 
 le London 
 
 t galleries. 
 
 ;s. Boston 
 
 Institute 
 
 American 
 
 ees, prides 
 
 the most 
 
 Die at the 
 
 ay I was 
 
 I was told 
 
 to speak — 
 
 ot too low. 
 
 ith plenty 
 
 generally 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 Boston 9 
 
 I went back to my hotel and pondered. I had 
 never had so much good advice in my life. I was a 
 Royal Institution lecturer ; I fancied I had come to 
 Boston to instruct, to enlighten. That is the spirit in 
 which Royal Institution lecturers in London go to 
 their work. I was quickly undeceived. Boston was 
 going to instruct me — to judge me, to weigh me in 
 the balance, and perhaps find me wanting. To be 
 prompted on my own special topic — to be told how I 
 was to address an audience after twenty years of 
 incessant public speaking in London — * Well, well,' I 
 said to myself, ' this is indeed a novel experience, and 
 all is no doubt kindly meant.' And so I went home 
 to tea. But I could not help being a little shaken in 
 my self-confidence. I never face a new audience 
 without anxiety and trepidation, and the ample advice 
 I had received was certainly enough to wreck any 
 lecturer of ordinary sensibility on a first night. 
 
 At last the moment came. I appeared * B 4 a c of 
 upturned faces,' as poor Artemus used to say. The 
 theatre was quite full. There was hardly any ap- 
 plause on my entrance. I had been prepared for 
 that. Who was I ? A pilgrim and a stranger indeed ! 
 I soon felt as if I hadn't a friend in the world. I tried 
 a feeble little complimentary allusion to the manager 
 of the Lowell Institute, which was received in ominous 
 silence. I quoted one or two of their favourite poets 
 without a gleam of recognition or sympathy from 
 that apparently austere assembly. ' This will never 
 do,' thought I to myself, and at this moment the very 
 atmosphere seemed to conspire against me. There 
 were horrid echoes and harmonic sounds ringing in 
 my ears and mocking my voice. I had a violin on 
 the table, and a gong — I covered the one and removed 
 
I 
 
 'J 
 
 10 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 the other. All in vain ; the mocking echoes con- 
 tinued. I was speaking slowly, accurately, and with 
 all due dullness, on the anatomy of sound. I remem- 
 bered the placards stuck up on the organ loft in the 
 far west, where the rough worshippers were wont to 
 lounge into church with bowic knives and six-shooters : 
 ' Gentlemen, please not to fire at the organist, as he 
 is doing his best.' I was doing my best, but, sorely 
 weighted with good advice — and bent on pleasing the 
 Bostonians, bad was that best, and dull as ditch-water. 
 O man, vain are thy words when thou ceasest to 
 be thyself, and art bent on finding favour, instead 
 of speaking forth the truth that is in thee, as thy 
 soul shall prompt thee to utterance, heedless of praise 
 or blame ! 
 
 That night I learned my lesson for good. I had not 
 been, after all, quite a failure. To my surprise, a great 
 many people seemed pleased with the lecture. I cer- 
 tainly was not one of them. The next day I received 
 more good advice, and I was not surprised. The 
 local allusions, it seems, were out of place ; the 
 quotations over-trite or trivial ; the learning not 
 heavy enough. I accepted the rebuke with outward 
 meekness, and inwardly boiling over. ' Hard science ' 
 alone, it seemed, could redeem me in the eyes of 
 Boston. This was final — I had apparently failed 
 to please the hub of the universe. Henceforth I 
 intended to deliver my message in my own way, and 
 please myself The next night was more crowded 
 than the first ; there was not standing room. That 
 evening I was fortunate enough to establish that 
 entente cordiale with the Bostonians which was to be 
 the beginning of a very happy time, and one in which 
 
Boston 
 
 II 
 
 :hoes con- 
 , and with 
 I remem- 
 loft in the 
 e wont to 
 -shooters : 
 list, as he 
 )Ut, sorely 
 easing the 
 tch-water. 
 ceasest to 
 r, instead 
 ie, as thy 
 ; of praise 
 
 I had not 
 e, a great 
 e. I cer- 
 reccived 
 ^d. The 
 ftce ; the 
 ing not 
 outward 
 science ' 
 eyes of 
 y failed 
 eforth I 
 vay, and 
 crowded 
 That 
 sh that 
 IS to be 
 n which 
 
 .A 
 
 I think I may say I laid the foundation, at least, of 
 some lifelong friendships. I at once took the bull 
 by the horns, and warned my hearers not to expect 
 any hard science in my lectures on music and morals. 
 Science, I said, was not in my line ; I knew nothing 
 at all about it. I was musical and I was moral ; and 
 I then plunged at once into the mission of Art, and 
 the special place and rationale of music. The more 
 I pranced through all the rules laid down for my 
 guidance and correction the more the room kindled, 
 and the genial applause which greeted me at the 
 close of my hour emboldened me to believe that I 
 had this time almost satisfied the hub of the universe. 
 
 From that time I looked forward to my nights at the 
 Lowell Institute with unmixed pleasure. ' We regard 
 those lectures,' said a past Lowell lecturer to me, * as 
 ordeals to be got through somehow.' ' I never spent 
 happier evenings in America,' I replied. Indeed, all 
 reserve between me and the audience seemed broken 
 down ; we almost conversed. ' Conference ' would 
 have been a better word for our meetings. After the 
 second Wagner lecture, which I concluded with a 
 dramatic paraphrase of ' Tannhauser,' end of Act III., 
 the applause continued, with cries of ' Let's have him 
 out ! ' until, contrary, I believe, to all Lowell Institute 
 etiquette, I was brought back to the platform, and 
 I there remained, shaking hands with my friends, 
 and answering questions about Wagner, until it was 
 evident that the audience would not disperse until I 
 retired. On entering my private room I found it full of 
 ardent intruders, who were determined not to depart 
 without my autograph. After that night I got no 
 more good advice. My audience had delivered me. 
 
12 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I used to go to my room adjoining the platform 
 about half an hour before lecture time. I always found 
 the staircase blocked with people waiting for the 
 opening of the doors, and one night the crowd was so 
 great that fears for the staircase were entertained, 
 and the people after that were always marshalled in 
 the lobbies below. 
 
 My good friend Mr. Augustus Lowell, who treated 
 me from the first with the most delicate courtesy and 
 generous appreciation, had been as much annoyed as 
 I was by the non-arrival of a great Belgian bell, cast 
 specially for me by Scverin Van Aerschodt, lineal 
 descendant and representative of the Van den Gheyns 
 of the sixteenth century, who cast some of the chief 
 suites of bells that now hang in the noble towers 
 of Bruges, Ghent, Malines, and Louvain. My first 
 lecture had been somewhat marred by the absence of 
 that bell, and Mr. Lowell asked me to give an addi- 
 tional lecture should the bell arrive in time. After 
 a rough voyage the bell arrived, and there was re- 
 joicing at the Lowell Institute. Its fine silvery sur- 
 face was flecked with green spots of wind, weather 
 and sea water, but the bell, weighing about five cwt., 
 was a treasure, a model of pure smooth casting 
 with * America ' on one side, a beautiful proud female 
 profile, with thirteen stars round her head, and an 
 inscription bearing my name and that of the Lowell 
 Institute on the other. The good janitor of the 
 Huntington Hall fell in love with her on the spot, 
 and with many powders and unguents, brushes and 
 cloths, set to polishing her up for the evening, until 
 on the afternoon of my seventh and last Lowell 
 Lecture he brought me to see her in triumph. As she 
 
1 
 
 Boston 
 
 ^e platform 
 Iways found 
 '^nrr for the 
 "ovvd was so 
 entertained, 
 arshalled in 
 
 ivho treated 
 )urtesy and 
 annoyed as 
 n bell, cast 
 lodt, lineal 
 len Gheyns 
 f the chief 
 ible towers 
 My first 
 absence of 
 re an addi- 
 ne. After 
 'e was re- 
 ilvery sur- 
 1, weather 
 : five cwt., 
 h casting 
 ud female 
 
 and an 
 le Lowell 
 
 of the 
 he spot, 
 shes and 
 ing, until 
 
 Lowell 
 
 As she 
 
 T3 
 
 appeared on the platform, swung on rough cross- 
 beams, she shone like silver, and sounded as mellow 
 as an old violoncello, giving the fundamental third 
 and fifth as true as a pianoforte. At night the crowd 
 was so great that every available stlanding-place was 
 occupied. Phillips Brooks said to me, * Do you think 
 I can get in ? ' * You can get in anywhere ! ' I don't 
 think he was in the least interested in bells or music. 
 Ho sat in a remote corner. I can see his massive 
 frame, and his expressive full face, which reminded 
 me so much of Thackeray, just a little way off, where 
 the difference between a broken and a sound nose was 
 not so apparent. Ladies were sitting on the floor 
 and on the platform. The doors were blocked. I had 
 brought with me the official pamphlet issued by the 
 Royal Institution, containing my lecture on bells, 
 delivered therein, and the substance of this I re- 
 delivered. On being recalled at the close, I bade 
 adieu to my sympathetic friends who gathered round 
 me ; shook more hands and signed more autographs. 
 By this time I knew many of them by sight. I felt 
 grateful to them for the happy evenings they had 
 given me, and they seemed genuinely sorry to part 
 with me. I had not taught them much * hard science,' 
 it is true, but they had taught me two things : first, 
 that Bostonians are often misrepresented by some of 
 their would-be representatives ; and secondly, that 
 Bostonian audiences are very much like other culti- 
 vated listeners, irresponsive to what is dull, but as 
 sensitive as other people to that touch of nature 
 which makes the whole world kin. For one soul vt's- 
 d-vis a thousand there is, after all, but one three-fold 
 counsel of perfection that, like charity, never fails : 
 Forget thyself, love thy people, and do thy work.' 
 
u 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ! 
 
 tl 
 
 IV 
 
 Boston Days.— I was pleasantly detained in 
 Boston a fortnight more by an unexpected request to 
 fix my own fees, and redeliver three of my Lowell 
 Lectures. I did so at the Hawthorne Hall before 
 what I was told was the cvcinc de la crane of Boston : 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes, Dr. Berthold, Mr. Shattuck, 
 the venerable and gifted Miss Peabody, Mrs. Ole 
 Bull, Asa Gray, and other remnants of the brilliant 
 Emerson, Bryant, and Longfellow circle occupied 
 prominent seats and vouchsafed no advice. They 
 gave me what was better, an almost loving attention. 
 I was the only person, it would seem, aware of my 
 own defects, and I kept the knowledge to myself. 
 They did their best to conceal it from me. Miss 
 Peabody compared me to Hawthorne ; Mr. Putnam, 
 a leading Boston lawyer, who had kindly managed 
 the hotel robbery affair for me, assured me that since 
 the da}'s of Agassiz there had been no such success ; 
 and Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes expressed himself 
 very kindly. ' A model,' he said, ' of what such a 
 lecture should be.' In the 'hard science' days, a 
 month before, I had almost been tempted to blow my 
 own trumpet a little in self-defence, but wisdom and 
 modesty prevailed. I now felt myself to be one of 
 Wisdom's justified children. Mem. — Another three- 
 fold counsel of perfection : ' Don't praise yourself ; 
 don't run yourself down ; .do'i't defend yourself; — 
 leave it all to other people.' Have I disregarded this 
 in chronicling in my diary the verdict of others at a 
 time, I confess, when my own was doubtful? If so, 
 
Boston 
 
 15 
 
 ctained in 
 request to 
 ny I.owcll 
 I all before 
 ^f Boston : 
 Shattuck, 
 Mrs. Ole 
 c brilliant 
 occupied 
 ce. They 
 attention, 
 are of my 
 to myself, 
 ne. Miss 
 . Putnam, 
 managed 
 hat since 
 success ; 
 i himself 
 t such a 
 da}'s, a 
 blow my 
 iom and 
 ■e one of 
 ir three- 
 ourself ; 
 rself ; — 
 ed this 
 irs at a 
 If so, 
 
 let Sterne's recording angel drop a tear and blot out 
 my offence. Few things can be more humbling, after 
 all, than a man's real knowledge of himself and his 
 own shortcomings, what he aims at, what he achieves. 
 He alone weighs accurately the praises lavished upon 
 him for things which merit blame, or the blame so 
 rashly cast for things which deserve praise ; but in all 
 his earthly striving, his successes and his failures 
 alike, one thing is ever wholesome, ever sweet — nay, 
 little less than sacred — it is the genuine sympathy of 
 human hearts ; and that was given me at Boston. 
 
 1 preached once in Boston. It was in Phillips 
 Brooks's grand mo.sque-like church, to a congregation 
 of between two and three thousand people. Phillips 
 Brooks and Canon Farrar conducted the :jervice. I 
 preached again for my kind and hospitable friend, 
 Dean Gray, in the Episcopal Church at Cambridge, 
 and again before the Harvard University, at the 
 request of Principal Eliot. On this occasion the 
 congregation consisted of Unitarians, Nonconformists, 
 and a sprinkling of Episcopalians. The Harvard 
 students were in force, and on that Sunday night the 
 spacious edifice was crowded. It was the strangest 
 service - stranger even than that at Cornell Universit}-, 
 where I was told to wear what I liked, and do what 
 1 liked, and say what I pleased. Below me Dean 
 Gray, in plain black coat, conducted an improvised 
 service ; a hymn or two was sung, and I then rose in 
 the pulpit wearing a black Geneva gown and a 
 Cambridge hood. I was not in good condition, and 
 for the first half-hour, whilst treading the thorny 
 ground of Bible inspiration, was quite aware that 
 I was not putting my points persuasively for the 
 
 I 
 

 !•) 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Episcopalians at any rate. My second half-hour I 
 warmed up, but it was too late. 
 
 The next day the papers gave an extraordinary 
 travesty of my sermon, in which it appeared I had 
 trampled on all that was most dear to the Bible 
 Christian. For several days the papers pursued me, 
 and things were made to look so bad that I broke 
 through my usual reserve in correcting wild reports, 
 and sent a letter mildly protesting against the mis- 
 representations current. Dean Gray did the same, 
 and hearing no more, I suppose the theological 
 watchdogs of Boston lay down to sleep again. In 
 no single instance was I treated unkindly by the 
 l^oston or Cambridge newspapers, nor, I am sure, did 
 they willingly misrepresent me. On the whole, I 
 wonder they did so well — I think they could hardly 
 have meant better. 
 
 ( 
 
 V 
 
 Dr. Phillips Brooks.— Never ought he for his 
 own sake to have been made a Bishop. Admirable 
 was he as Bishop — greater as Rector of Trinity 
 Church. But for America it was well. How bravely 
 he soared above all the cackling, blear-eyed ecclesi- 
 astics and timorous prelates who protested against 
 his election. How little he cared whether they 
 elected him or not. ' Dear old moth-eaten angels ! ' 
 he said to me one day, alluding to some of the 
 conservative, stick-in-the-mud clergy who had voted 
 against him, and there was a lofty, only half-con- 
 temptuous pity about the humour of the phrase, 
 which somehow left no sting behind it. 
 
 1 can see the tall, portly figure — monumental and 
 
 i 
 
Boston 
 
 ly 
 
 If-hour I 
 
 Lordinary 
 ;d I had 
 he Bible 
 sued me, 
 
 I broke 
 I reports, 
 the mis- 
 he same, 
 eological 
 jain. In 
 r by the 
 
 sure, did 
 whole, I 
 d hardly 
 
 e for his 
 
 dmirablc 
 
 Trinity 
 
 f bravely 
 
 ecclesi- 
 
 against 
 
 er they 
 
 ingels ! ' 
 
 I of the 
 
 d voted 
 
 alf-con- 
 
 phrase, 
 
 ital and 
 
 impressive — fit tabernacle for that noble spirit with 
 its strange aloofness and yet quick sympathies that 
 gave all and seemed to want nothing in return — and 
 never became too familiar or common. It was a 
 strange liftcd-up kind of sympathy quite irresistible ; 
 it seemed to carry you away with a rush, like a full 
 strong river. The poor felt it and worshipped him ; 
 but he was so other-worldly, almost like the denizen 
 of some far-off planet whose inhabitants had moved 
 on a stage or so beyond us. lie seemed like one not 
 of us come amongst us for a little while, understand- 
 ing us better than we did ourselves, loving us, full 
 of a divine depth and simple helpfulness and artless 
 humility, but still aloof as though some innavigable 
 ocean washed between us. I wonder, did ever anyone 
 knozf Phillips lirooks intimately ? 
 
 The bishopric was Phillips Ikooks's crown of sa- 
 crifice. The last time he lunched with me at the New- 
 University Club with the Bishop of Gloucester, the 
 Earl of Meath (ever full of good works), and Canon 
 Milman, we remained chatting alone for some time 
 after lunch on the top gallery opening out of the 
 club smoking room and overlooking the chimney- 
 pots of London. 
 
 I had a presentiment that I should never see him 
 again, and it was so. Subdued, gentle, caustic, 
 eloquent, severe by turns, but more * detached ' — that 
 is the only word for Phillips Brooks — more detached 
 than ever. There was a far-away look every now and 
 then in his eyes which came and went like a cold 
 gleam of wintry sunlight falling upon him from 
 beyond the clouds. It always seemed to me that 
 Phillips Brooks did not care greatly to remain here 
 VOL. I c 
 
i: 
 
 I 
 
 i8 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 below, except for the work of the ministry, in which 
 he rejoiced, so that whenever the Master should 
 come and call for him, he would not have to call 
 twice, but the faithful servant would immediately rise 
 up quickly and go to Him. lie alwaj's reminded me 
 of those exquisite lines in ' J^'zckicl : ' 
 
 * What have ye lacked, beloved, with us, 
 
 \Vc murmur heavily and low, 
 That ye should rise with kindling eyes 
 And be so fain to go ? 
 
 * It was not that our love was cold. 
 
 That earthly lights were growing dim, 
 But that the Shepherd from the fold 
 Had smiled and drawn them unto Him. 
 
 ' Praise God, the Shepherd is so sweet ; 
 
 Praise God, the country is so fair ; 
 We might not hold them from His feet, 
 We can but haste to meet them there.' 
 
 And Phillips Brooks's preaching ? Quite inde- 
 scribable ! He stood up, and the Spirit entered into 
 him, like a mighty rushing wind. I have heard him 
 read his sermons. I have heard him pour forth a 
 perfer\ id stream of extempore eloquence for an hour. 
 It mattered little to him — less to us — it was always 
 the whirlwind, the fire, and through it all and in it 
 all somehow the still small voice. 
 
 It was not what he said — indeed, there was not 
 much in what he said — and there is no more in a 
 page of his printed sermons than in a column of 
 Mr. Gladstone's eloquence. He formulated little, he 
 theorised less ; he hardly attempted to construct or 
 
 m 
 
Boston 
 
 19 
 
 /", in which 
 ter should 
 ve to call 
 :liatcly rise 
 n in dec! inc 
 
 ^im. 
 
 bt 
 re.' 
 
 iiitc indc- 
 tcrcd into 
 leard him 
 ir forth a 
 an hour, 
 as always 
 and in it 
 
 was not 
 lore in a 
 )lumn of 
 
 little, he 
 struct or 
 
 ^'^■ 
 
 reconstruct, still less to criticise or destroy. Only 
 the waters of the great deep were broken ud ; the 
 tongues of fire alighted on the heads of the people. 
 Strong men stood and wept; others were lifted up 
 with inconceivable emotion, a sense of triumph ; the 
 sorrowful went away jubilant ; the sinner went off and 
 without knowing that he had repented forgot to sin 
 ajiain ; and numbers who were thus moved could 
 hardly /icar what he said. I once ventured to remark 
 to him, alluding to the furious rapidity of his utterance, 
 which defied all shorthand writers : ' The people miss 
 whole sentences and paragraphs.' 
 
 ' No matter,' said Brooks ; * they get a sentence 
 and a thought here and there ; if they heard all, they 
 would forget half; they hear quite enough,' 
 
 It was true, and Brooks knew his own secret. 
 They said he talked fast because he stammered if 
 he talked slowly. It may have been, and doubtless 
 his method was unskilled and imperfect from an 
 elocutionist's point of view, but what Phillips Brooks 
 gave was himself. 
 
 People went out stepping lightly as on air, with a 
 sound of angels' voices ' chiming ' about them : as 
 ])ai e says, ' like those that chime after the chiming 
 of the eternal spheres,' 
 
 No ; there never was anybody, there never will 
 be anyone, like Phillips lirook.s. There was an 
 incomparable elevation and buoyancy about his 
 torrential oratory and himself ; he positively radiated 
 faith and joy in the Eternal. 
 
 His one theological triumph was in restoring to 
 Unitarian Boston some .sort of belief in the doctrine 
 of the Trinity. It was Phillips Brooks's intense grasp 
 
 c 2 
 
il 
 
 .' 
 
 ^j, 
 
 20 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 of the human side of God as an essential and not an 
 accidental part of the Divine nature which enabled 
 him to do this. Whilst professing no toleration what- 
 ever for the bitter polemical document mistakenly 
 called the Creed of St, Athanasius, Phillips Brooks 
 was passionately Athanasian, and believed as firmly 
 as I do that the doctrine of Athanasius concerning 
 the Holy Trinity, more especially in relation to the 
 Ferson of the Redeemer, is absolutely the only con- 
 vincing and unanswerable statement that was ever or 
 is ever likely to be made concerning the Divine 
 Nature under the limitations of Humanity. 
 
 In my * Conquering Cross,' the fifth volume of 
 ' Christ and Christianity,' the chapter on ' Constan- 
 tine and the Nicene Council,' I have endeavoured to 
 state the true Athanasian doctrine, which so few theo- 
 logians and hardly any of the clergy seem to know 
 anything about, as opposed to the equally misunder- 
 stood Arian doctrine ; and in a conversation which 
 I had with Phillips Brooks not long before his death, 
 I found that our views were in almost exact harmony 
 upon this subject. 
 
 VI 
 
 Phillips Brooks's Letters.— One of the first 
 to welcome me to Boston in November 1885 when I 
 arrived to deliver the Lowell Lectures was Phillips 
 Brooks. The following letter speaks for itself: 
 
 ' 233 Clarendon Street, Boston : 
 
 ' November 5, 18S5. 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Haweis, — I was so sorry to miss see- 
 ing you yesterday. 
 
 * Welcome to Boston. 
 
Boston 
 
 21 
 
 and not an 
 ch enabled 
 ation what- 
 mistakenly 
 ips Brooks 
 d as firmly 
 concerning 
 Ltion to the 
 : only con- 
 was ever or 
 the Divine 
 
 volume of 
 * Constan- 
 ta vou red to 
 lo few theo- 
 n to know 
 r misunder- 
 ior. which 
 I his death, 
 :t harmony 
 
 )f the first 
 85 when I 
 IS Phillips 
 self: 
 
 an : 
 
 er 5, 1885. 
 
 D miss see- 
 
 ' Will you preach for me at Trinity, Sunday morn- 
 ing next ? 
 
 ' I do hope you can and will. 
 
 ' Most sincerely yours, 
 
 •Phillips Brooks.' 
 
 It was on this occasion that Archdeacon (now 
 Dean) F'arrar turned up quite unexpectedly and took 
 part in the service. We were both at that time 
 lecturing in Boston, and the papers made copy out of 
 us, not always in the best taste, by comparing our 
 platform, and pulpit styles. Of course the journals 
 which extolled the distinguished Archdeacon were 
 cool on me, and vice versa. I thought it was very 
 graceful, under the circumstances, of the Archdeacon 
 to appear on the occasion of my preaching, and still 
 more friendly of him to assure me afterwards that 
 everyone who heard my sermon must have been the 
 better for it. 
 
 ' The large house ' — by which the ' Boston Journal ' 
 meant Phillips Brooks's magnificent church — ' was 
 packed with a congregation comprising the regular 
 congregation and many from other churches. It was 
 a surprise to see behind the chancel rail Arch- 
 deacon Farrar : it seemed that he had returned to 
 Boston for the Sunday, and therefore assisted the 
 Rev. Phillips Brooks in the devotional exercises. The 
 Rev. Mr. Haweis was not seen until the moment he 
 mounted the pulpit steps.' Then follows a specimen 
 of the ' impressionist ' sketches of my humble self, 
 which varied according to the taste or animus of the 
 reporter. On this occasion — the ' black hair sets off my 
 pale colour.' At another time I am very dark — or 
 like Dr. Talmage, or Ward Becchcr — or Mr. Toole — 
 
tl 
 
 ill 
 
 i I 
 
 I 
 
 
 I 
 
 'I 
 
 1 
 
 22 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 or ' a slender joyous man of forty-seven.' Other 
 reporters considered me stout and melancholy, and 
 so forth. 
 
 I shall never forget the kindness and attention 
 shown me by Phillips Brooks whilst I was at Boston. 
 His beautiful house was close to my lecture-hall. I 
 sometimes met Dean Farrar at lunch there. I could 
 always turn in and rest there, and I made it my home 
 whenever I came out to Boston from the Deanery at 
 Cambridge, where I mostly lived. 
 
 Our friendship matured as the years rolled on — 
 too few, alas ! 
 
 * You arc most good,' he writes in 1887. *I am 
 here [Westminster Palace Hotel] for the shortest visit 
 with my sister and her child, under my charge, who 
 have never seen the great London before, and so all 
 the sights are to be seen in truest tourist fashion. 
 
 ' I never can repcty the sermon you preached for 
 me [" the fiery echoes of your voice," he wrote in 
 another letter, " still seem to linger about the walls 
 of Holy Trinity"]. This year I must not attempt to 
 do so. I am here only for two Sundays, and on both 
 of them I am promised for two preachings. These 
 promises were made months ago, long before I left 
 America, so I am helpless there. I must not hope 
 either to preach for you, or (what I should like far 
 better) Jiear you preach 
 
 ' Do not count me faithless, but only unfortunate. 
 You kindly name two days, on either of which I could 
 come to lunch. . . . Above all let me not be a bore 
 or burden. . . . 
 
 ' PniLLU'S l^ROOKS.' 
 
■Ji 
 
 Boston 
 
 23 
 
 jn.' Other 
 choly, and 
 
 i attention 
 at Boston, 
 jre-hall. I 
 ^ I could 
 it my home 
 Deanery at 
 
 oiled on — 
 
 57. ' I am 
 
 lortest visit 
 
 harge, who 
 
 and so all 
 
 ishion. 
 
 cached for 
 
 wrote in 
 
 the walls 
 
 attempt to 
 
 id on both 
 
 s. These 
 
 "ore I left 
 
 not hope 
 
 d like far 
 
 ifortunate. 
 ch I could 
 be a bore 
 
 kOOKS.' 
 
 ■M 
 
 
 A few more extracts from his letters may as well 
 follow here. 
 
 I had asked him to meet a distinguished company 
 at my house, including Cabinet ministers, bishops, 
 and well-known writers and men of .science ; he could 
 not come, but he came one afternoon when we were 
 alone. 
 
 ' It would have been good to meet all these great 
 people ; but I am quite content. I shall see you and 
 Mrs. Hawcis. I shall not miss the others. 
 
 'PiiiLLii's Brooks.' 
 
 I wrote and asked him to go with me to Lambeth 
 Palace. 
 
 * Thank you for one more added to your hundred 
 kindnesses ; yes, wc have cards for Lambeth for this 
 afternoon, and shall go. And I have the pleasure of 
 knowing Bishop Lightfoot, and shall see him if he is 
 in Durham. . . . 
 
 •Phillips Brooks.' 
 
 In 1889 I wrote to him about Tangier, which I 
 had been visiting in order to investigate the state of 
 the prisons and the consular corruption, which I sub- 
 sequently exposed in the London press with some 
 good results. 
 
 ' April 23, 1889. 
 
 ' The brightest Easter greeting to you ! It is good 
 to see your most exemplary handwriting, and to know 
 that you are well and happy. How fine the church 
 facade must be! [1 had lately built a new fa9ade to 
 St. James's, Westmoreland Street] I shall not see it 
 this year, for I shall not come to England. If I 
 
 ii<^ 
 

 n 
 
 H 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 anywhere, I shall go to Japan ! But it looks now as 
 if I should stay quietly at home. 
 
 * This is a sad story about Tangier. Thank Heaven, 
 the places of cruelty cannot be quite as much hidden 
 as they used to be. Some tourist parson finds them 
 out, and the " Times," with all its blunders, is still 
 there. 
 
 * This little town [Boston] grows apace, and there 
 are interesting things going on in it all the while ; but 
 I am sad not to get a month in London. Some day I 
 shall do it yet, and then I shall see you again. 
 
 ' Till then, think of mc, and be sure of my remem- 
 brance with kindest regards to Mrs. Hawcis. 
 
 * Phillips Brooks.* 
 
 I had asked him to go down to Fulham Palace to 
 the Bishop of London's with me. I had also invited 
 him to my conversazione at the Portman Rooms, a 
 description of which is given by Dr. Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes in his ' Over the Tea Cups.' Brooks writes : 
 
 *July 4, 1S90. 
 
 * I wish that I could be at your conversazione this 
 evening. It was good in you to give our national 
 festival the honour of your choice. 
 
 * As I write the rockets are burning and the boys 
 are shouting over the now well-established fact that 
 we are an independent nation. 
 
 * I fancy you are as glad of it as we are, for we 
 should have been a most troublesome dependency. 
 I thank you for your counting me . . . amongst your 
 friends, and giving my very much misspelt name a 
 place upon the prospectus of your meeting. 
 
 ' After all, I hope to cross the ocean for the shortest 
 
 'i 
 
 I i 
 
iks now as 
 
 k Heaven, 
 ch hidden 
 Snds them 
 ;rs, is still 
 
 and there 
 
 k\'hilc ; but 
 
 Dme day I 
 
 lin. 
 
 ly remem- 
 
 5. 
 
 ROOKS.* 
 
 Palace to 
 Iso invited 
 
 Rooms, a 
 Wendell 
 s writes : 
 
 4, 1890. 
 
 zione this 
 national 
 
 the boys 
 fact that 
 
 e, for we 
 tendency, 
 igst your 
 name a 
 
 shortest 
 
 Boston 
 
 25 
 
 
 i 
 
 of all journeys this summer. It seems to be the only 
 way of getting thoroughly clear of appointments on 
 this side. I shall get only a few days in England 
 and a few days in Switzerland. 
 
 * How long I shall have in London I cannot say. I 
 should think as much as an hour and a half 
 
 * I shall try to see you of course, and trust the kind 
 fates for success. But my time is so uncertain that I 
 cannot guess when I shall be at your gate, and you 
 must make no account of me. Only it will be sad if 
 I miss you entirely. . . . 
 
 ' Phillips Brooks.' 
 
 As early as 1 888 I was contemplating a visit to 
 the Pacific Coast, although not until 1893 was I 
 destined to sec for the first time the City of the 
 Golden Gate. Phillips Brooks wrote : 
 
 ' February 23, 1SS8. 
 
 ' How gladly would I be sitting this afternoon in 
 your pleasant garden or your pleasant library, and 
 thanking you in person for your most kind note. 
 Instead of that this thick gross medium of pen and 
 ink comes in ; but still enough of human feeling may 
 penetrate through it to let you know that I am glad 
 that you remember me, and that I think of the bright 
 days in London with perpetual gratitude and joy. I 
 shall not come this year. I shall go up into the 
 country and sit under my apple trees and read my 
 books, and hold my peace. The blessed silence after 
 all these months of talk ! 
 
 ' And yet the months of talk arc most delightful ; 
 one grows surer of a few strong things, and more and 
 more delights to tell them to his fellow creatures ; and 
 the fellow creatures — bless them !— arc so good ! They 
 
m 
 
 I' > 
 
 'i 
 
 •I 
 
 26 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 
 listen so kindly, and their hearts, recognising what is 
 true in what we say, leap up so cheerily and say, ** Ves, 
 that is so. I felt it ! " 
 
 * It is a delightful work, and I trust there are a 
 good many years yet of it before the end. [Alas ! there 
 were but four.] 
 
 ' I had a rather miserable summer after I went on 
 to the Continent from London. It was only a lame 
 hand [he had been nursing a sick dog of low degree 
 most tenderly, and it had bitten him], a felon ! a mean, 
 miserable, undignified, decrepitude ! but it disabled 
 mc somewhat, and ended by shutting me up for ten 
 days in Geneva under a doctor's care. It is all well 
 now, and the winter has been full of hearty happi- 
 ness. 
 
 * So you are bidden to come and look at the 
 Pacific. I hope that some day you will do it. A 
 new ocean is a great sight in a man's life. We shall 
 see you here on the way, which will do us all good. 
 
 ' Phillips Brooks.' 
 
 Alas! in 1893 Phillips Brooks was dead. 
 
 I deeply regret now that 1 thoughtlessly destroyed 
 so many of his letters ; but little I dreamed the hand 
 that wrote them would so soon be cold in the sepul- 
 chre. 
 
 Only on his last visit to England did I notice 
 a certain weariness and want of alertness, doubt- 
 less due to enfeebled action of the heart, which 
 latterly proved insufficient to vitalise adequately his 
 tall massive frame. 
 
 I think a letter dated July 8, 1892, from the 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, is the last I received from 
 him : 
 
 
g what is 
 ay, *' Yes, 
 
 ire are a 
 as ! there 
 
 went oil 
 \y a lame 
 w degree 
 ! a mean, 
 disabled 
 p for ten 
 s all well 
 ty happi- 
 ly at the 
 o it. A 
 We shall 
 
 good. 
 OOKS.' 
 
 cstroyed 
 he hand 
 e sepul- 
 
 notice 
 doubt- 
 which 
 itely his 
 
 om the 
 2d from 
 
 Bo.STON 
 
 27 
 
 4 
 
 ♦ It was most pleasant to hear from you again 
 and I sent at once my telegram to say how gladl)' I 
 should come to lunch with you on Saturday, and go 
 with you to the Bishop of London's as you most 
 kindly propose. 
 
 ' I am counting upon it with the greatest pleasure. 
 
 * I mi\st not have the privilege of going home with 
 you to Queen's House afterwards, and, indeed, I must 
 hasten back from the Bishop's early because I have 
 promised Farrar to be with him at his schools at half- 
 past five ; but I shall get a good delightful afternoon 
 with you, in which I much rejoice. You are very good 
 to remember mc, and I am yours most sincerely, 
 
 * Phillips Brook.s.' 
 
 For people who had seen so much of each other 
 and were on such friendly terms as we were, a certain 
 tone of needless humility and deference which breathes 
 through his letters may seem a little artificial, but it 
 was genuine and characteristic of Phillips Brooks. 
 I remember a story about an obscure American 
 clergyman who once got the great preacher to fill 
 his pulpit in the countr}'. The crowds which always 
 flocked to hear him gathered from far and wide, and 
 there was not standing room in the chancel. 
 
 Phillips Brooks congratulated the worthy parson 
 upon the magnificent congregation that he had got ! 
 It never seemed to occur to him that they had only 
 come to hear him. 
 
 VII 
 
 Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes.— Name well- 
 beloved wherever English is read — incomparable 
 Autocrat — the last survivor of that glorious band of 
 
\i 
 
 I 
 
 t 1 
 
 :^ 
 
 28 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 genial and brave writers (all abolitionists), poets, 
 philosophers, novelists, and essayists, who have 
 created American literature. Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
 outliving Nathaniel Hawthorne, Bryant, Emerson, 
 Longfellow — even James Russell Lowell — it was my 
 good fortune to see at Boston, and for seven years to 
 number amongst my friends and correspondents. 
 
 It was on Wednesday, November 4, 1885, at a 
 reception given us by our kind friends Mr. and Mrs. 
 Parker, at Boston, that I first met Dr. Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes — a small spare man of some .seventy-six 
 years, with a genial, mobile face, lips seldom at rest, 
 kind eyes, quick at penetrating. I told him that, 
 instead of allowing him to come out to sec me, I had 
 been about to pay my respects to him. 
 
 ' Well,' said he, * I don't go out much this weather. 
 I suppose about my time of life one may expect to 
 sit at home under one's pagoda and be visited like a 
 Chinese god ; but I have come out to sec you.' 
 
 O. W. H. talked just as he wrote, and was just 
 what he seemed to be. He was always the Autocrat, 
 or the Professor, or the Poet of the Breakfast Table. 
 
 * The sound of our own voice,' he once said to me, 
 ' is sweet; we all love it' 
 
 His mind was naturally prone to go back to that 
 brilliant circle — Emerson, Longfellow, Agassiz, Haw- 
 thorne, Margaret Fuller, Bryant, Whittier, James 
 Russell Lowell — of which he himself was so subtle 
 an ornament ; but he never lost sympathy with the 
 present. 
 
 * After a life like mine, one may well live a little, 
 as pigs are said to do, on one's own fat. We certainly 
 were a good circle in the old days. What a presence 
 was Agassiz, with his flashing eyes so full of life, and 
 
Boston 
 
 ;), poets, 
 ho have 
 
 Holmes, 
 Emerson, 
 
 was my 
 
 years to 
 snts. 
 
 585, at a 
 and Mrs, 
 
 Wendell 
 /enty-six 
 I at rest, 
 lim that, 
 10, I had 
 
 weather, 
 xpect to 
 ed like a 
 »u.' 
 
 was just 
 
 \utocrat, 
 
 Table. 
 
 d to me, 
 
 to that 
 iz, Haw- 
 James 
 3 subtle 
 vith the 
 
 a little, 
 ertainly 
 ■)resence 
 ife, and 
 
 29 
 
 M 
 
 •liiii 
 
 genius, and insight, and eloquence! As for Haw- 
 thorne — such a contrast to him — he was as shy and 
 retiring, like a blushing schoolgirl of fourteen. For a 
 whole evening you could hardly get a word out of 
 him in company ; but then Margaret Fuller — rather 
 dull, as I think, in her books — was a rare talker — over- 
 rated though,' he added. ' Do you know, I think I 
 was always a little jealous of her ? Perhaps I ucvcr 
 did her quite justice. It began when we were ciiildrcn. 
 W'c used to go to school together, and she got ahead 
 of me. Once she wrote an essay beginning, '* Trite as 
 may be the remark," Sic. She read it to me. I didn't 
 know what " trite " meant. She evidently did. I felt 
 quite piqued and disliked her for her lofty superiority. 
 Is it not absurd the trivial little things that warp the 
 mind and impress young children, and old ones too ? 
 As for Poc, he was really a poor creature a very 
 poor creature ; he gave great offence at Boston ; 
 people were kindly disposed towards him, but he 
 treated them infamously.' 
 
 Holmes always stood a little outside the Emerson 
 clique. ' Oh, as to Emerson,' he would say, * he was 
 an angel-so pure and sunny ; but the stuff talked in 
 his name about transcendentalism was insufferable ; 
 it has infected Boston ever since. The brainless 
 litterateurs and charlatans that lived on his peculiari- 
 ties and mimicked his language — it makes one sick to 
 think of them— to him his style was native, it was 
 clear, pure inspiration. We are too indulgent here in 
 Boston to mere litterateurs ; we do not see things in 
 right proportion ; we hardly know first-rate quality 
 from second rate.' 
 
 And after a pause he added — 
 
 ' No, nor fifth-rate.' 
 

 'i 
 
 I 
 
 ■J! 
 
 30 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 One afternoon we went in to see him. He lived 
 in Beacon Street, and the bacl< of his house commanded 
 a view of the sea and the sunset. His study table 
 was strewn with letters. He began to describe witli 
 inimitable humour the way he was pestered by 
 admirers. Yet I think he would have missed them. 
 He tossed me a letter asking for his autograph ; he 
 opened another requesting a sentiment ; and a third 
 wanting his opinion on some verses. 
 
 * I live,' he said, ' on interruptions ; but what .1 I 
 to do with the books people send me and urge me to 
 read ? ' 
 
 I told him what Stanley, the late Dean of West- 
 minster, did with such presents ; he wrote a post card 
 with * Dear Sir, I will not wait to open your book, 
 but best thanks. — A. P. S.' Holmes thanked me 
 for the hint. 
 
 I was delighted to hear him talk about himself, his 
 poems, and his varied experiences of admirers. He 
 seemed to me about the most contented mart' to 
 popularity I ever saw. He would complain of ;; 
 
 made a butt of by everyone who wanted a lift in art, 
 literature, or lecturing, but I could see that few applied 
 to him in vain. At times he would check himself 
 lightly with — 
 
 * Dear me, I am talking of nothing but myself, 
 like a garrulous old man that i am.' 
 
 'You will never grow old,' I said; 'the vigour 
 and freshness of your soul will keep you young for 
 ever.' 
 
 'Ay,' said he, 'young with a second childhood, 
 through which, I suppose, we must all pass till we get 
 wa.shed clean, as I hope we shall be when we wake up 
 by -and -by.' 
 
 ( I 
 
Boston 
 
 31 
 
 Mc lived 
 nmancled 
 dy tabic 
 ribc with 
 crcd by 
 ed them, 
 raph ; he 
 d a third 
 
 hat .1 I 
 gc me to 
 
 of West- 
 post card 
 ur book, 
 iked me 
 
 msclf, his 
 ers. He 
 lart' to 
 
 of ^ :r 
 
 "t in art, 
 V applied 
 himself 
 
 : myself, 
 
 vigour 
 Dung for 
 
 ildhood, 
 1 we get 
 wake up 
 
 ^if 
 
 • Si 
 
 Although Dr. Holmes talked of sitting at home 
 like a Chinese god, I certainly met him out several 
 times — indeed, no choice assembly seemed complete 
 without him, and wherever he was the talk was sure 
 to be bright, genial, good, and kindl)-. 
 
 At a great reception given to (anon I\'irrar at the 
 Ihunsuick Hotel, I again found m)'self close to Oliver 
 Wendell Holmes. 
 
 ' Who is that bishop,' I asked, ' who just spoke to 
 me ? ' 
 
 ' Oh,' said Holmes, ' that is the well-known Bishop 
 
 of , and not at all a bad fellow either. I will tell 
 
 )ou why I have a good opinion of him. I once saw 
 him go up to two ladies in the street in the rain — he 
 had on a brand-new hat. I happened to know those 
 ladies. They were total strangers to him, but he 
 offered them his umbrella and walked off in the rain, 
 and quietly spoiled his hat. Now,' says Holmes, ' a 
 man loves his hat — and a bishop's hat ! ' He paused ; 
 it was an awe-inspiring thought. 
 
 * Yes,' I cut in, layin- my hand gently on the 
 poet's arm, and holding him ' with my glittering 
 eye ' — 
 
 ' Wear a good hat : the secret of your looks 
 Lives with the beaver in Canadian brooks. 
 Virtue may flourish in an old cravat, 
 l^ut man and nature scorn the shocking hat.' 
 
 I saw the author's eyes kindle. 
 
 ' Well,' said he, * I had better be off now. I shall 
 hear nothing better than that. I am in luck to-day 
 this is the second time since I have entered this room 
 that I have had my own poems quoted to me.* 
 
 * Ah,' I said, * you should have seen the electrical 
 
 1 
 
I 
 
 32 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 effect produced by those lines when I quoted them at 
 the Royal Institution — the soundest sleeper awoke.* 
 
 A few days afterwards I was fortunate enough to 
 hear him read some of his own verses, ' Dorothy Q,' 
 ' Bill and Joe,' and one or two more, which have 
 already become American classics. He prefaced 
 them with one of those graceful impromptu introduc- 
 tions which at once proclaimed the practised lecturer. 
 
 Holmes was an exquisite reader, the singularly 
 sympathetic and vibrating voice rising at times 
 into passionate but never unrestrained declamation 
 or dying away into a trembling and pathetic whisper. 
 When I heard the poet read, I could not help feel- 
 ing that, facile and appropriate as may be the vers 
 d'occasion for which he is so famous, he will take 
 rank in poetic literature at the side of Longfellow and 
 Bryant by virtue of such perfect and tender lyrics as 
 * Under the Violets ' and ' The Voiceless.' 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 ■■A 
 
 '/ 
 
 
 I I 
 
 VIII 
 
 Holmes's Table Talk. — Holmes was one of the 
 most amusing after-dinner talkers imaginable, and the 
 more he got all the talk the better he talked, which did 
 not prevent him from being a very good listener. One 
 night, at my friend Mr. J. Perkins's, he entertained 
 us all with accounts of his early lecturing tours, when 
 the managers of forlorn institutions tried to bate him 
 down, when he had to walk miles over ploughed 
 fields to reach some remote town, and then send his 
 agent out into the highways to beat up an audience. 
 ' Ay,' said he, ' things are changed now.' 
 
 • You gentlemen come over here with your reputa- 
 
Boston 
 
 33 
 
 them at 
 Lwoke.' 
 
 lough to 
 rothy Q: 
 ich have 
 prefaced 
 
 ntroduc- 
 
 lecturcr. 
 ingularly 
 at times 
 lamation 
 
 whisper, 
 lelp feel- 
 
 the vers 
 will take 
 ellow and 
 
 lyrics as 
 
 Diie of the 
 e, and the 
 which did 
 ner. One 
 itertained 
 )urs, when 
 
 bate him 
 ploughed 
 
 send his 
 audience. 
 
 ur reputa- 
 
 tions made, and a literary public promising you fixed 
 fees ; in my young days no one had heard of mc, and 
 few people knew what a lecture was. There was no 
 literary public : wc had to create the taste, and uphill 
 work it was I can tell you, but it had its adventure 
 and its sweetness and reward. I can go back thirty, 
 forty years, and remember the comfort and content 
 of sitting in some outlandish inn after my lecture 
 with a glass of hot punch and my pipe, and my feet 
 upon the mantelpiece, with my agent near me whom 
 I could talk to or let alone as I pleased, and — and — ' 
 he added, his eyes twinkling with almost boyish 
 exultation, * rattling the well-earned dollars in my 
 pocket ! ' 
 
 Holmes was very fond of Emerson, and I gather 
 was much with him towards the close of his life, when 
 his mind had entirely given way, and he could recollect 
 nothing. 
 
 ' His beautiful spirit,' he said, ' remained quite 
 unclouded and serene, although his memory was gone ; 
 latterly he would read a book without turning over 
 the page, for by the time he had got to the bottom of 
 it he had forgotten what he had been reading, and 
 would begin all over again. iVfter Longfellow's death, 
 as he lay in the chapel before the coffin lid was shut 
 down, I went in with Emerson to take a last look at our 
 poor friend, l^merson stood gazing at the quiet face 
 for some moments. Then turning to me he said, 
 " That is the face of a very amiable gentleman, but I do 
 not know who he is." All his sensibility, his fine judg- 
 ment, and taste remained unimpaired — only his 
 memory was gone. Of all men that I have ever 
 known he was the most serene and angelic down to 
 the very end.' 
 
 VOL. I n 
 
 !^ 
 
iS( 
 
 ■■"*,?! 
 
 »:> i 
 
 
 ( 
 
 34 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 From another intimate friend of the great Concord 
 philosopher I obtained a curious glimpse into Emer- 
 son's method of composition. He knew nothing 
 thoroughly, was not at all logical, never defined his 
 views, read unsystematically, and often for long inter- 
 vals read little ; but he would go out into the woods 
 and fields. 
 
 ' I place myself in right and happy relations with 
 nature,' he would say, ' and let thought come to me ; 
 when an idea strikes me I put it down in my note- 
 book, and fortunate am I if in one morning or day I get 
 a real living thought of my own. When I wish to 
 write upon any subject I consult my thought book and 
 select from it those thoughts which seem capable of 
 being welded appropriately together. I work at the 
 expression of them till I have reached what seems to 
 me the best form, and so I leave them.' 
 
 These fragments of Emerson's talk explained 
 much to one who like myself for years had been a 
 loving Emersonian student. The essays are gnomic 
 and prophetic, not literary and rigidly connected. They 
 abound in leaps and gaps of thought like St. Paul's 
 Epistles ; and there is no great reason why paragraphs 
 out of one essay should not be neatly fitted into any 
 other with good effect. The whole of Emerson is 
 thus fragmentary ; but so fertile and suggestive that, 
 without a system, he has leavened most systems of 
 contemporary philosophy, and sent thousands of 
 ardent minds along new tracks of luminous thought. 
 He seems to me, indeed, one of the greatest initial 
 forces of the century, and in his pure and lofty * tran- 
 scendentalism,' his keen insight into the essence of 
 things, his contempt of wealth, his severe analysis of 
 life, shown in those flashes of intuition in which its 
 
 f 
 
Boston 
 
 35 
 
 Concord 
 Emcr- 
 nothing 
 ned his 
 \g intcr- 
 ; woods 
 
 ns with 
 to me ; 
 ly note- 
 lay I get 
 wish to 
 took and 
 pable of 
 s. at the 
 icems to 
 
 ^plained 
 been a 
 gnomic 
 d. They 
 t. Paul's 
 agraphs 
 nto any 
 erson is 
 ve that, 
 terns of 
 mds of 
 thought. 
 it initial 
 y * tran- 
 lence of 
 lysis of 
 hich its 
 
 V 
 
 spiritual heights and depths stand revealed, Emerson 
 is the true and timely counterpoise to the hungry, 
 money-getting materialism of America. 
 
 IX 
 
 O. \V. Holmes's Letters. — The dear Autocrat 
 having promised mc a copy of his famous book, I 
 sent him * My Musical Life,' then just out. Here 
 are two charming letters a propos of my book : 
 
 •296 Beacon Street : December 1, 1SS5. 
 
 'Dear Mr. IIaweis, — I am really delighted with 
 )our " Musical Life." One is not always delighted with 
 tlic books sent him ; but I opened on the Violin 
 chapter, and found so much that pleased me that I fell 
 in love with the book that held it. 
 
 ' I have been so much taken up for the last week 
 or two that I hardly know whether I have sent you 
 an}' book of m.inc or even my photograph. I know I 
 meant to ; and if 1 have not done it already, I mean 
 to. Just write one line on a post card— tell me if I 
 have or not. Please do not take the trouble to write 
 a note, fur you must be, as we say, driven to death by 
 all sorts of well-meant attentions. IVIy remembrances 
 to charming Mrs. Haweis, and very kindest regards to 
 yourself. 
 
 • Very truly yours, 
 
 'O. W. Holmes.' 
 
 On the 5th of the same month — December 1 885 — 
 I received this second note : 
 
 ' One word more. It is absolutely neccssai)' to 
 relieve my sense of obligation to you. 
 
 ' When I thanked you for " My Musical Life," I had 
 
 D Z 
 
I' 
 
 (tf 
 
 36 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 only dipped into it. I was much pleased, of course, 
 but I have enjoyed reading it since so much that I 
 meant to tell you of it. 
 
 * You have given a life to the " fiddle " such as 
 nothing but its own music ever gave it before. 
 
 ' I never knew until I read what you say of the 
 instrument, what profanation I had been guilty of to 
 touch one, much more to write about it ! 
 
 * I find your book really fascinating, full of spirit, 
 picturesqueness, vitality ; and I cannot help thinking 
 it may give you pleasure to have me tell you so. 
 Therefore I do it, and you can be sure I am honest 
 about it, because I have written once thanking you, 
 and should not have thought of writing again if the 
 book had not tickled my very heart's root and forced 
 me to do it. 
 
 'With the kindest regards to yourself and I\Irs. 
 llaweis — charming Mrs. Haweis, 
 
 ' I am very truly yours, 
 
 ' O. W. Holmes.' 
 
 Here is a characteristic little note : 
 
 Postscript to letter of same date. 
 
 •April 15, 18S5. 
 
 'Dear Mr. Haweis,— I remember that I wrote 
 ^ery for z/ery, and forgot to scratch off the superfluous 
 prolongation. As I do not write in the negro dialect, 
 I must beg you to be assured that in writing the word 
 I always " spell it with a wel' as old Mr. Weller told 
 Sam to spell his name. 
 
 ' Very truly yours, 
 
 ' O. W. Holmes.' 
 When news reached me that Holmes thought of 
 
 '% 
 
 i< I 
 
Boston 
 
 37 
 
 course, 
 that I 
 
 such as 
 
 • 
 
 J of the 
 Ity of to 
 
 Df spirit, 
 ;hinking 
 you so, 
 1 honest 
 ng you, 
 n if the 
 d forced 
 
 nd Mrs. 
 
 LMES.' 
 
 5, i8Ss. 
 
 1 wrote 
 erfluous 
 
 dialect, 
 he word 
 Her told 
 
 ,MES.' 
 ught of 
 
 coming to England, ' I tried to sound him about a 
 lecture at the Royal Institution. I also invited him 
 to stay at my house. The following was his reply : 
 
 * 296 Beacon Street, Boston. 
 
 • My dear Sir, — You are exceedingly kind, and I 
 am very much obliged to you for your cordial invi- 
 tation ; but the arrangements I have made for Mrs. 
 Sargent [his daughter, who accompanied him] and 
 myself oblige me to decline your offer of hospitality. 
 
 ' As to lecturing or reading, I have formed no pro- 
 ject of that nature. I go to England to spend money, 
 not to make it. What I most wish is to find Tiyself 
 as little hampered by engagements as possible — to 
 live quietly in the quarters I have engaged for as long 
 a time as possible, and get a little rested before seeing 
 my friends, excepting one or two old American 
 intimates. 
 
 * I am very grateful to you for your generous in- 
 vitation [to stay at Queen's House], and hope to 
 thank you and Mrs. Haweis in person as soon as I 
 am established in London. 
 
 ' Believe me, 
 
 * Most truly yours, 
 
 ' O. W. Holmes.' 
 
 Little did he know what awaited him. From the 
 first moment when the Duke of Westminster invited 
 him to Eaton Hall to his final departure for Paris — 
 where nobody seemed to have heard of him, and he saw 
 hardly anyone but M. Pasteur, for whom he had a 
 profound admiration — the genial Autocrat was hailed 
 with a series of ovations. 
 
 In his Dover Street hotel I found his ante-room 
 
 I 
 
'M 
 
 1)* 
 
 n\ 
 
 38 
 
 Tk WFT. A\P TaT.K 
 
 tabic covered with cards and notes, and a youngj 
 lady secretary was engaged all day in answering 
 invitations and parrying the oppressive assaults of 
 his admirers for autographs. 
 
 He always took a nap in the afternoon, and 
 devoted all the rest of his time to society. This was 
 not the ideal of life in London with which he had 
 started ; but Holmes really loved society, and sub- 
 mitted to hero worship with most becoming resigna- 
 tion. 
 
 Here is a specimen of many similar notes written 
 shortly after his arrival, which tells its own stor\' 1 
 
 ' 17 Dover Street : May 19, 1SS6. 
 
 ' Dear Mrs. Haweis,— Thank you for your kind 
 invitations. If you please, send the victoria to- 
 morrow [we had placed our carriage at his dis- 
 posal]. 
 
 ' I have marked next Monday for the lunch at 
 I o'clock fo half-past. [On that occasion he met 
 Dr. Samuel Smiles, author of *' Self-Help," and 
 Bishop Ellicott, and we did not rise from table 
 till nearly five clock, the talk being absorbing and 
 incessant.] 
 
 * I must make a brief visit at the " tea and talk " 
 [the reception at Queen's House] on the 27th, as I 
 must be at Sir James Paget's at 6.30. 
 ' Believe me, dear Mrs. Haweis, 
 
 * Very truly yours, 
 
 ' O. W. Holmes.' 
 
 I introduce these 1886 waif and stray memories of 
 Holmes here for the sake of the letters, although they 
 do not belong properly to my American travels. 
 
 \ [it 
 
 y. 
 
'1^ 
 
 Boston 
 
 39 
 
 young 
 swerincr 
 lults of 
 
 )n, and 
 his was 
 he had 
 id sub- 
 
 csigna- 
 
 WTittcn 
 
 ), iSS6. 
 
 )ur kind 
 ^ria to- 
 lls dis- 
 
 imch at 
 he met 
 )," and 
 n table 
 
 ng- and 
 
 d talk " 
 th, as I 
 
 MES.' 
 
 orlcs of 
 gh they 
 
 :1s. 
 
 When I had made up my mind to accept the in- 
 vitation from Chicago to visit that city as Anglican 
 delegate to the Parliament of Religions in 1893, I 
 wrote to Holmes hoping that we might effect a meet- 
 ing. I then received from him the last letter he ever 
 wrote to me. 
 
 * Beverly Farm, Mass. : August 7, 1 893. 
 
 * Dear Mr. Hawels, — You have laid out a grand 
 plan for the early autumn months, and I hope it will be 
 carried out to your heart's content. 
 
 ' I envy you the visit to Chicago, which I do not 
 feel able to undertake, but which I think must be one 
 of the great sensations of a lifetime. My eighty-fourth 
 birthday comes in three weeks from to-morrow. 
 
 ' I am well enough for so venerable a person, but I 
 cannot do all I could in 1886, when I was almost ten 
 years younger. 
 
 ' I hope before you begin your career in this country 
 the state of affairs will be less unfavourable than I am 
 sorry to say it is now. The financial depression sur- 
 passes anything I have ever known. 
 
 * I am glad that you took my good-natured account 
 of my reception by your people [referring to the recep- 
 tion I gave him at Queen's House in 1886, noticed in 
 his ' Hundred Days in Europe '] in so good-natured 
 a way, and I trust that I shall smile as benignantly on 
 the notice you propose to give of me in one of your 
 periodicals. 
 
 * With kindest regards to yourself and Mrs. Haweis, 
 
 * Very truly yours, 
 
 ' O. W. Holmes. 
 
 ' P.S.— I inclose a hymn— the last poem I have 
 written— also the formula to correspondents to which 
 
T\ 
 
 :1 i 
 
 40 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 [illegible] in my eyes and [illegible] in my fingers 
 have driven me during the absence of my secretary.* 
 Here is the card to correspondents : 
 
 ' Beverly Farm, Mass. : 1893. 
 
 * Dear , — Yours of the is received. 
 
 I can do little more than acknowledge the reception 
 of the very numerous communications which come to 
 me from unknown friends, near and distant, many of 
 them containing requests to which I cannot con- 
 veniently pay the desired attention. Regretting that 
 I find my time, my eyes, and my hand overtaxed by 
 an ever increasing correspondence, 
 
 * I am, 
 
 • Yours very truly, 
 
 * {^Signaturey 
 
 Here is the hymn, a veritable swan song, and I 
 believe the last he ever wrote, quite as dignified and 
 characteristic as Tennyson's ' Crossing the Bar,* written 
 at about the same age : 
 
 ^vV_* 
 
 ' Hynui ivritten for the Receptioji in honour of the 
 twenty-fiftli Anniversary of the Reorganisatioii oj 
 the Boston Young Men's Christian Union 
 
 < The forty-second since its organisation in 1 85 1), 
 'Wednesday Evening, May 31, 1893. 
 
 * Tune^ '''Dundee!' 
 
 ' Our Father ! while our hearts unlearn 
 The creeds that wrong Thy name, 
 Still let our hallowed altars burn 
 With Faith's undying flame ! 
 
 1 
 
Boston 
 
 41 
 
 ' fingers 
 retary.' 
 
 : 1893. 
 
 eceived. 
 ^ception 
 come to 
 many of 
 ot con- 
 ing that 
 ixcd by 
 
 • Not by the lightning gleams of wrath 
 
 Our souls Thy face shall sec, 
 The star of Love must light the path 
 That leads to Heaven and Thee. 
 
 ' Help us to read our Master's will 
 Through every darkening stain 
 That clouds His sacred image still, 
 And see Him once again 
 
 • The brother man, the pitying friend, 
 
 Who weeps for human woes, 
 Whose pleading words of pardon blend 
 With cries of raging foes. 
 
 turey 
 
 T, and I 
 led and 
 
 written 
 
 of the 
 ation oj 
 
 ' If 'mid the gathering storms of doubt 
 Our hearts grow faint and cold. 
 The strength we cannot live without 
 Thy love will not withhold. 
 
 ' Our prayers accept ; our sins forgive ; 
 Our youthful zeal renew ; 
 Shape for us holier lives to live, 
 And nobler work to do 1 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 May 28, 1893.' 
 
 On paying a farewell visit to Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes in Boston, he took me into his study and pre- 
 sented me with a copy of the ' Autocrat of the Breakfast 
 Table.' * Write your name, I pray, and any verse if you 
 will.' The poet took up a gold-nibbed pen, and said, 
 • This is the pen I wrote the whole of the " Autocrat " 
 with. I now keep it only to write my name for my 
 friends,' and he wrote. When I looked at the frontis- 
 
 k 
 
 ■,■> 
 
42 
 
 Travkl and Talk 
 
 &}> 
 
 piece, I not only found his sigfnature, but the follow- 
 ing exquisite lines, certainly amongst the finest and 
 tenderest he ever wrote : 
 
 ' A few may touch the magic string, 
 
 And greedy Fame is proud to win them ; 
 Alas ! for those that never sing, 
 But die with all the music in them.' 
 
 IcilAHOU. — The l^oston Age is over. Even 
 ITowells, the most illustrious of all the modern 
 American novelists, is getting lukewarm. Emerson, 
 Thoreau, Hawthorne, Longfellow, James Russell 
 Lowell, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Whittier, Bryant — 
 not all identified with the Hub, but almost all — arc 
 now gone, and Xew York is gradually sapping the 
 Bostonian supremacy for culture, and weakening the 
 magic spell of Concord. 
 
 ' Ay me ! ay me ! the woods decay and fall.' 
 
 M 
 
 r 
 
 t 
 
 ) 
 
 i 
 f 
 
 X 
 
 Longfellow's MSS.— At Cambridge in 1885, I 
 lived chiefly with Dean Gray, close to Longfellow's 
 house, and I was in and out constantly to see Samuel 
 Longfellow, his brother. There I met the aged Miss 
 Peabody, indefatigable friend of the 'poor Red man,' 
 who, as Artemus Ward remarked, * is rapidly becoming 
 exstink.' There too was Mrs. Agassiz, the gifted 
 widow of the great Professor whom I have heard Sir 
 Richard Owen quote so often with such love and 
 admiration ; and there were delightful Professor Childs 
 and Asa Gray too, most gentle and modest of savants, 
 and most gifted of naturalists. I remember on his 
 seventieth birthday reception, at which I was present, 
 
l^OSTON 
 
 43 
 
 foUow- 
 lest and 
 
 :m; 
 
 Even 
 
 modern 
 
 Lmerson, 
 
 Russell 
 
 Jryant — 
 
 all — arc 
 
 ping the 
 
 ning the 
 
 fall.' 
 
 1885, I 
 
 g fellow's 
 
 Samuel 
 
 ed Miss 
 
 d man,' 
 
 ecoming 
 
 c gifted 
 
 eard Sir 
 
 ovc and 
 
 )r Childs 
 
 savants, 
 
 on his 
 present, 
 
 4 
 
 they gave him a beautiful silver jug embossed all 
 over with his favourite ferns and flowers and most 
 delicately chased. 
 
 * Whose is this exquisite work ? ' I asked him. 
 
 * Only the firm's name is inscribed upon it,' he 
 replied. 
 
 1 am glad that our Walter Crane and a few 
 modern Art leaders have with true Ruskinian ire 
 protested against this absorption and exploitation of 
 genius by trade. 
 
 At Dean Gray's too I met Mrs. Olc Bull, widow of 
 the magic violinist who astonished the wild Indian 
 tribes and electrified courts and puzzled the steady- 
 going fiddlers of the day. 
 
 I staj'ed in Mrs. Ole Bull's house afterwards, and 
 she showed me her husband's rare collection of violin 
 
 Looking over the poet Longfellow's MSS. wit 
 Samuel Longfellow, I observed that they were all 
 written in pencil. There I saw the rough draft of 
 ' Excelsior.' In coming upon the first embryo opening 
 of Evangeline' it was interesting to see how the poet 
 had wavered over the first line — 
 
 * This is the Forest Primeval.' 
 
 He had written — 
 
 ' Still stands the ' 
 
 ' Here is the ' 
 
 and scratched both out, and at last decided on — 
 ' This is the I'^orest,' 
 
 to open with, and used 
 
 ' Still stands the Forest Primeval ' 
 at the conclusion of the whole poem. 
 
 k 
 
1 ' 
 
 i^ 
 
 if 
 
 44 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Glancing hastily at the end of * Hiawatha,' I 
 noticed some beautiful lines which do not appear at 
 all. Longfellow, like our own poet Gray and unlike 
 Byron, was a very careful and fastidious artist in 
 verse, for all his apparent ease and spontaneity. He 
 would sacrifice in a moment any form of thought or 
 a melodic line if it broke the unity of his poem, or 
 marred its technical finish. 
 
 ' In the glory and the fragrance 
 Of the purple mists of evening,' 
 
 has been ruthlessly expunged. It should come between 
 
 and 
 
 ' In the glory of the sunset ' 
 * In the purple mists of evening.' 
 
 XI 
 
 Bryant, Longfellow, Emerson.— Whilst in 
 Boston I received a note from Henry Ward Beecher 
 inviting me to occupy his historic pulpit at Brooklyn, 
 and offering me lOO dollars as a fee. 
 
 To my English notions of pulpit etiquette this 
 seemed to me singular, nor could I have occupied 
 any Nonconformist pulpit in New York without the 
 Bishop of New York's consent, which would have 
 most likely been refused. As it happened, I was 
 engaged for the Harvard University pulpit th?' 
 but I was assured that the great preach^ ■» 
 to pay me a very high compliment, . tii.. for 
 sixteen years he had never made a siinilar ofter to 
 anyone. 
 
 ; 
 
Boston 
 
 4S 
 
 atha,' I 
 Dpear at 
 d unlike 
 artist in 
 ity. He 
 DUght or 
 Doem, or 
 
 between 
 
 To have arrived in America just too late to sec 
 Emerson, Bryant, or Longfellow, was indeed a bitter 
 disappointment to me. My correspondence with 
 these eminent persons is almost confined, as far as the 
 interest of it is concerned, to the possession of their 
 autographs. 
 
 I tried to get Bryant and Longfellow to write 
 something for ' Cassell's Magazine,' which I at one 
 time edited. I had succeeded with Victor Hugo, 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury (Tait), Farrar, Wilkie 
 Collins, Garibaldi, Swinburne, and other famous people. 
 I failed with my Americans. The aged Bryant wrote : 
 
 If 
 
 t 
 
 rhilst in 
 Beecher 
 rooklyn, 
 
 ittc this 
 )ccupied 
 Kout the 
 lid have 
 I, I was 
 ir y 
 
 Ai^ for 
 ofier to 
 
 'New York Feb. 17, 18/0. 
 
 * Dear Sir, — I thank you for the kind words in 
 which you accompany the request made in your note. 
 It will, however, be impossible for me to comply with 
 it. I have several good friends among the editors 
 of the American magazines, who have asked me to 
 write something for them, but I am so occupied, so 
 old, and so lazy, that I cannot, and I am obliged to 
 excuse myself to you on the same plea of too much 
 to do, love of ease and old age. 
 
 ' I am, Sir, faithfully yours, 
 
 ' W. C. Bryant.' 
 
 Longfellow wrote : 
 
 'Cambridge, Masschls. : 1870. 
 
 ' My dear Sir, — I am much obliged to you for 
 your kind offer, but am afraid it will not be in my 
 power to accept it. I am not at present writing for 
 any periodicals, and do not wish to enter into any 
 engagements of the kind. 
 
 « 
 
 m 
 
 
46 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 1 li 
 
 \n 
 
 w 
 
 ' Regretting that I cannot comply with your 
 request, I remain, 
 
 * Yours truly, 
 
 • Henry W. Longfellow.' 
 
 I had a burning desire to sec lunerson when he was 
 in England in 1873, but I failed. Emerson wrote : 
 
 * Slratri>rd-on-Av()n : May 5, 1S73. 
 
 ' Dear Sir, — Your very kind note reached me last 
 night here, at the house of Mr. E. F. Flower, and 
 made me regret the missing you in London. I grieve 
 also that I have failed to receive the good books you 
 have sent me [* Music and Morals,' and * Thoughts for 
 the Times ']. I leave this place of good omen 
 to-morrow for York, Durham, Edinburgh, and for 
 Liverpool, whence I sail on the 15th instant for 
 America, whither I shall carry the recollection of 
 your kind words. With grateful regards, 
 
 * R. Waldo Emerson. 
 
 'Ml. j. R. (?) Haucis.' 
 
 [P.S. Emerson was not the only person who has 
 failed to read iny signature correctly.] 
 
 It was pleasant to find 'Music and Morals' a 
 standard prize book in the American .schools, and 
 even a class book in some of the colleges. It was 
 more gratifying to learn that * Music and Morals ' 
 had been a favourite with the poet Longfellow in the 
 evening of his life.and had even, so I was told, inspired 
 some of his la*, poetry. 
 
Boston 
 
 47 
 
 XII 
 
 Farewell, Boston ! —I have never revisited thee 
 since 1885, but ere I left a parting Public Reception 
 was tendered to me and my wife at the New England 
 Conservatory of Music, which touched me very much. 
 
 The New ICngland Conservatory, besides lodging 
 and boarding several hundred students on a magni- 
 ficent scale, and in connection with a refined system 
 of culture, chiefly under the direction of M. Tourjee, 
 is certainly one of the most influential musical schools 
 in the United States. A reception, therefore, offered 
 me at the immediate instigation of the professors and 
 musical authorities of lioston, in recognition of the 
 lectures I had delivered to mixed audiences, and as 
 a mark of the value they set upon my musical writ- 
 ings, was very gratifying, especially as they might 
 have adopted the glib cant, not unknown in my own 
 country, that an amateur could have nothing to say 
 about music worth the attention of professional 
 musicians. 
 
 Wc found on our arrival at the Boston Conserva- 
 tory, about nine o'clock in the evening, the entrance 
 of the building draped in red cloth ; floral wreaths, 
 with * Welcome ! ' over the grand staircase ; and as, 
 conducted by the Principal, we moved down the 
 spacious corridors to the reception room, we passed 
 between rows of fresh young faces and a large crowd 
 of invited guests. The ceremony was this time more 
 formal than on previous occasions. \\ c stood with 
 Dean Gray on one side, and M. Tourjee and some 
 of the trustees and the council of the Academy on 
 
 
48 
 
 TUAVF.L AND TaLK 
 
 
 It 
 
 the other ; whilst in front of us were several hundreds 
 of the assembled guests — as man)', in fact, as could 
 crowd into the principal reception room. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Duryca, one of the most elegant 
 speakers in America, then stepped forward into the 
 open semicircle between us and the company, and 
 delivered a neat address in terms most flattering to 
 myself and wife, in which with the best taste he 
 alluded to my ministerial career as in full harmony 
 with my musical studies, and was good enough to say 
 that my books on music had done much to raise the 
 tone of the profession throughout the civilised world. 
 
 'It is with the greatest pleasure,' said Dr. Duryea, 
 * as the representative of the Trustees and Faculty of 
 the Conservatory, that I add to the general welcome 
 which you have received in our city, the special wel- 
 come to the social fellowship of our patrons and 
 friends at this house. 
 
 • We tlo not desire to weary or chill you by the 
 frigid methods of a formal reception, but to open our 
 hearts to y'ou in sincere and warm expressions of our 
 personal regard and affection, and in a testimonial of 
 our indebtedness for your services to the art to which 
 we are devoted, our obligati(Mi to you for all you have 
 written, our reverence and love for what you haye 
 been and done as a man and as a minister of the gospel 
 of Jesus Christ. We owe you much for all you have 
 written. You have not only interpreted to us the 
 thoughts and sentiments of the great masters of 
 music, but you have initiated us into the secrets of 
 high art by leading us up to its moral aims, and by 
 sanctifying it to the higher uses of the soul as an 
 expression of the loftiest thought, the finest feeling. 
 
Boston 
 
 49 
 
 id reds 
 could 
 
 Icgant 
 to the 
 y, and 
 iii^ to 
 stc he 
 rmony 
 to say 
 isc the 
 world. 
 
 )uryca, 
 ulty of 
 clcomc 
 al wcl- 
 iis and 
 
 by the 
 )cn our 
 
 of our 
 )nial of 
 
 which 
 )u have 
 u hayc 
 
 gospel 
 u have 
 
 us the 
 tcrs of 
 
 rets of 
 
 nd by 
 as an 
 
 eh'ng. 
 
 i 
 
 ' And, also, we are indebted to you because you 
 have shown how this art may be consecrated to the 
 service of God, and made use of as an expression of 
 affection towards Him upon whom we centre our 
 minds and hearts as we grow in knowledge, in love, 
 in purity, in excellence, and in beauty, liut, most of 
 all, we are grateful to Trovidence and the grace of 
 God for what has been manifested in your character 
 and life. We desire to consecrate the art of music 
 to the highest aims, and to engage in the i)ursuit of 
 it men of the noblest powers and the finest culture. 
 
 ' When one who can consecrate himself to litera- 
 ture, the service of religion, and the Church of Jesus 
 Christ, can hold still with steadfast devotion to the 
 art of music, and in .some degree even adhere to the 
 practice of it, we arc encouraged to believe that 
 the day is coming when our art shall not be beneath 
 the .service of the noblest, the purest, and the best 
 men and women we can entice within its charmed 
 circle, who will bring to it the diligence and zeal equal 
 to accomplishment in its service, 
 
 ' Long after you are gone, you will be remembered 
 here. Long after your voice is silent, it will echo still 
 in the hearts and souls of those whom you have 
 taught, encouraged, uplifted, and inspired. 
 
 ' Our hearts would not be satisfied until we had 
 turned to her who has been, in homely Anglo-Saxon 
 words, your companion, your partner, and your wife. 
 Some men are self-made ; some men are made by 
 women ; and some men are unmade by women. You 
 recogni.se with reverence and undying love her power 
 over your constantly developing power, her refining 
 and purifying heart. We commend you to Him who 
 holds the sea in the hollow of His hand. May He 
 VOL. I E 
 
 w 
 
 i}!l 
 
 « 
 
 ill 
 
 V! 
 
 '/ 
 
50 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 speed you on your way to your native land, ancl may 
 Providence go with you and yours for all you have 
 been and are to be ! ' 
 
 
 I replied : ' Dr. Duryea, Ladies and Gentlemen, — 
 I am extremely glad that I had not any adequate 
 notice of the nature of this occasion, which would, 
 perhaps, have tempted me to prepare some speech. 
 Some one did say that I should have to speak a few 
 words ; but, then, "a few words " is Vifacon dc parlcr, 
 and you can often get out of a few words. But it 
 is very easy to get into a few words, without getting 
 out of them. Still, if I had made any preparation 
 before I came here, I should have to throw it entireK- 
 to the winds, because not one word of anything I 
 should have been likely to prepare would have been 
 of the smallest use to me on the present occasion. 
 I should have felt very much like poor Artemus Ward 
 who used to say that " he was the possessor of a 
 colossal intellect, but did not happen to have brought 
 it with him.'' 
 
 * When I first began listening to my friend's very 
 eloquent and too flattering address, I thought it 
 might, perhaps, prove to me a little exhausting — 
 not from any fault in the address itself, but in my 
 own powers of endurance. You can stand a certain 
 amount of encomium in public. I could have read it 
 without a blush in the papers on the following morn- 
 ing ; but to stand up and be fired at as a fine speci- 
 men of a man (that must have applied to my " colo.5sal 
 intellect") -I hardly know what it applied to, but I 
 am deeply gratified ; )r, you know, we always like to 
 be praised for those qualities in which we are most 
 deficient. I owe a debt of gratitude to my friend for 
 all his kind words. 
 
Boston 
 
 51 
 
 ins J 
 
 
 ' When he first began to speak, I thought I was 
 going to have a good time, although, no doubt, a 
 rather trying time, in the presence of so many spec- 
 tators ; but he had not gone on long before I found 
 the subject was going to be lifted out of personalities 
 into a higher region, and although I was the peg upon 
 which a great many excellent things might be said 
 to hang, I was going to be delivered of all further 
 embarrassment. 
 
 * I am not at all insensible to all the kind words I 
 have received ; but when we speak of music or any of 
 the arts, I desire to say that I do not wish the art to 
 be glorified in the man, but I think all who love art, 
 and who co-operate for the progress of art and the 
 cause of art, should lose themselves in the cause. 
 They really work for art just in proportion as they 
 forget their own services and themselves. The address 
 was put upon such a footing, and was raised to such a 
 high moral plane, that I was able to forget myself 
 I was able to forget anything like personality in the 
 general interest that we all feel in music ; and then I 
 became one with you in heart and sympathy. The 
 instant the fettering personalities ceased I became 
 one with you. Then I said, " We are now all engaged 
 in contemplating the beauties of art and the benefits 
 which wc may receive from art." 
 
 ' I think that, above all things, America is in the 
 van of active industries, and what I may call the 
 discovery of industries, pusliing, active enterprise, and 
 the accumulating of wealth, and the developing of 
 experimental science. America seems to have a 
 peculiar genius for all that side of life ; and when 
 that is the case, we find that the aits are apt to take a 
 second place. The old countries have plenty of art. 
 
 S2 
 
 
 I Ml- 
 
 li 
 
 ''^J 
 
52 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 "3 
 
 
 i'.i 
 
 The new countries neetl art, especially as a kind of 
 counterbalance to the prevailing genius and activity 
 of a people whose aims are mostly set upon the 
 accumulation of material wealth. I think, for such a 
 nation as that, the arts arc almost of a religious 
 significance. They seem a visible and active power, 
 like angels, who bring sweet fragments from the songs 
 above to the dwellers upon earth. 
 
 * An institution like this, which stands for the art 
 of music, has the power of sweeping the cobwebs from 
 the brain and restoring the blue sky and sunlight of 
 the soul. An institution like this is a refining institu- 
 tion, showing thnt what the nation most needs is a 
 counterbalance of its great and successful industry. 
 I am not come here to prate to you. I have lately 
 delivered ten lectures in this city, and I should think 
 that Boston has very nearly had enough of me ; but I 
 cannot leave you without saying these few words, 
 without thanking you, on behalf of my dear wife, 
 for all the kind things which my good friend has said 
 about her, in which he has coupled my name with 
 hers in his graceful compliment. 
 
 ' I may tell you that I think she wrote out about 
 the whole of " Music and Morals " with her own hand 
 before it went to the printer. I am not so careful 
 about the printers now. I let them read what they 
 can ; but, in those days, " Music and Morals " was my 
 first book, and, in those days, we had a little more 
 time than, perhaps, wc have had since. Our labours 
 have rather accumulated upon us. Our children make 
 certain demands upon us, and we do not have as much 
 time as we had in those days. But then she used to 
 be very much my amanuensis, and she used to be 
 
Boston 
 
 53 
 
 able to write a hand which everybody could read ; 
 while I, unfortunately, wrote a hand which nobody 
 could. jead. And in those days it was of more or less 
 advantage to me to get the editors to look at what I 
 sent them. Now, I do not care so much. They are 
 obliging enough to read anything that I send them ; 
 but in those days I was anxicjus that they should 
 print my books, and therefore I always asked my wife 
 to copy my writing off for me. And, as I said before, 
 she wrote every word of " Music and Morals." 
 
 * I must return you, on behalf of Mrs. Haweis 
 and myself, our heartfelt gratitude for the manner in 
 which — I was going to say — you have " drunk our 
 health ; " but you have done something better. You 
 have given me your good wishes. If I ma)' be allowed 
 to say so, you have put forward in Mr. Duryea a 
 spokesman whose eloquence and methods of state- 
 ment were extremely proper. Indeed, what he said 
 about myself I could not have improved upon. I'm 
 going to try to live up to it. I never could have said 
 anything nor shall I hear anything better than that, 
 if I should live to be as old as Methuselah — not 
 only the way in which he alluded to mc, but still 
 more the way in which he lifted the subject, and 
 rose into a more worthy atmosphere, as far as I am 
 concerned. I think that such a gathering as this at 
 so short a notice shows that you are not anxious to get 
 me out of the country. I do leave on Monday; but 
 it shows that you are as anxious to see me, and shake 
 mc by the hand, as I am anxious to do the same by 
 you, before I leave your cultured, respected, and 
 celebrated city of Boston.' 
 
 After my reply the ceremony of introduction 
 
 I, 
 
 ) . '.i 
 
 ■'If 
 
 I 
 
 w 
 
 If 
 
 ;-li 
 
 I 
 
54 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ! ( 
 
 1 1 ; 
 
 began, the principal guests being brought up by 
 Dean Gray and M. Tourjcc and presented to both of 
 us ; this took about an hour, and we were then con- 
 ducted through the chief rooms of this noble establish- 
 ment by the director, returning to the Deanery at 
 Cambridge about midnight. 
 
 I shall always retain the happiest recollections of 
 Cambridge, U.S.A. Most of the time I spent with our 
 kind friends Dean (now, alas ! dead) and Mrs. Gray and 
 Miss Charlotte, their amiable daughter. One night, 
 at a reception given to Canon Farrar and myself at 
 the Deanery, I met a large number of the theological 
 students, and was at first a little taken aback at the 
 way in which the young men formed in a circle round 
 me whenever one of them was presented, so that my 
 replies had to be addressed to at least a dozen at a 
 time ; however, on glancing at the other end of the 
 room, I noticed that a similar group had gathered 
 round Canon, now (1895) Dean Farrar, so I accepted 
 the situation frankly, and discoursed to them colloqui- 
 ally on the lessons to be derived from Church history 
 in view of successive schools of religious thought — 
 the distinction between doctrine or religious teaching 
 and dogma or fixed opinion, and the recurrent need 
 of restatement if interest in theology was to be 
 kept alive. There was something to me extremely 
 refreshing and unlike our old-world theological schools 
 in these young aspirants to the Christian ministry 
 being brought under the genial and liberal influence 
 of so accomplished and wide-minded a divine as Dean 
 Gra}'. He represented the best and most vigorous 
 elements of American episcopacy. He was not afraid 
 
Boston 
 
 of coming face to face with antagonistic sects, because 
 he was generous and philosophical enough to acknow- 
 ledge whatsoever things are pure and lovely and of 
 good report wherever they existed. Happy are the 
 students who are allowed thus to develop ! happy arc 
 the institutions under which they flourish ! 
 
 i...^ 
 
}m 
 
 ' I 
 
 \i i 
 
 56 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 I 
 
 •S! 
 
 ', 1 
 
 t. '■ 
 
 XIII 
 
 COURTLANDT Palmkr.~No doubt a vcry ex- 
 ceptional person, often I think needlessly at war with 
 clergy, politicians, and all established modes of society 
 and religion, and very much intent on founding a 
 s(jciety, if not a religion of his own. 
 
 ' Courtlandt Palmer ' was the signature of a letter 
 which I received on my first visit to the States. (Dr.) 
 * Guilbert ' was the signature of another. I knew no- 
 thing of either, I trusted both — both proposed to enter- 
 tain me at New York, and both did so in the most 
 hospitable manner. 
 
 I had not spoken five words to Courtlandt Palmer, 
 who with his charming wife (now Mrs. Abbey) re- 
 ceived me on my arrival late one night at his beauti- 
 ful house in New York, before I was impressed with 
 a certain sur-excited .sensibility, a winning gift of 
 manner, and an undertone of pain and restlessness, 
 which never seemed to leave him. He was a slight 
 well-built man ; of strong will and definite purpose, 
 and when I heard him address a large and fashionable 
 assembly at that unique and phenomenal New York 
 club known as ' The Nineteenth Century Club,' I could 
 feel the concentrated earnestness of a man wIkj believed 
 in his Ideal. That Ideal was as noble as it was 
 simple — it aimed at discovering a common ground 
 
 I: i 
 
New York 
 
 57 
 
 of fellowship and agreement amongst all sorts of 
 thoughtful and cultivated people professing all sorts 
 of diverse political, religious and social views. 
 
 I was much with him. He listened to anything I 
 might have to say about Divine Sympathy, Immor- 
 tality, Prayer, the Person of the Redeemer, with much 
 toleration ; but I do not think he ever budged an inch 
 for me or anyone else from the opinions whatever they 
 were, formed independently by himself. His thinkings 
 had evidently landed him in Agnosticism as regards 
 the future, but in a very practical philanthropy as 
 regards the present. 
 
 When Courtlandt Palmer came over to England a 
 few years later, I heard him deliver an address at 
 Felix Moschcles' studio in Sloane Gardens. He 
 wished to establish branches of his democratic New 
 York club in London and Paris, but no fish seemed to 
 rise to his fly, and I thought he himself felt a little 
 awkward and fish-out-of-waterish. I le had not quite 
 hit the English tone. I noticed the same about 
 Henry Ward Beechcr in his later days when he 
 lectured at 1^2xcter Hall — things which set the world 
 on fire thirty years before fell flat ; nothing he said 
 was quite in the humour of the day. 
 
 I was asked to write a few memorial lines on my 
 distinguished American friend. I find them reprinted 
 in a privately circulated volume. They run as follows : 
 
 * Courtlandt Palmer was a great social centre and a 
 true apostle of progress. He was a large-hearted, 
 liberal-minded man, with the courage sometimes 
 the fatal courage — of his opinions and a zeal for 
 all popular causes which occasionally outran his 
 
 I. 
 
 
 1^ 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 ■ I 
 
 I 
 
 
 I 
 
JP 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 iii 
 
 11 
 
 I 
 
 58 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 discretion ; but in an age where discretion abounds 
 and zeal is scarce, that was certainly a fault on the 
 right side. You could not be in Palmer's company 
 for long without the leading passion of his life crop- 
 ping up in his talk to found a society, the only pass- 
 port to which should be a sincere reverence for truth 
 and an ardent love of man. To get people of dif- 
 ferent creeds and callings to meet upon this broad 
 and genial basis and keep their temper without burn- 
 ing their differences, this was his apparently vague 
 and perhaps Utopian aim. The Nineteenth Century 
 Club remains a standing witness to his success. It 
 has expanded from an *' at home" into a community 
 numbering its hundreds. Courtlandt Palmer's lan- 
 guage was sometimes wanting in temperance ; he did 
 not spare his opponents ; controversially he " was ever 
 a fighter." lie made short work of abuses, and 
 denounced bigotry and shams wherever he met with 
 them. He had no sympathy with narrow-minded- 
 ness, and he scorned and ridiculed it ; but he could 
 love narrow-minded people if they were honest. The 
 result was that he was hated and vilified by outsiders, 
 especially those who had never seen him ; but few 
 people could resist the charm of his personal influence. 
 His eager enthusiasm and a certain tender personal 
 sympathy, combined with great candour and a refined 
 courtesy even when face to face with his bitterest 
 opponents, never failed him. One would say naturally 
 on meeting him as a stranger in a railway carriage 
 for half an hour, •' Here is indeed a fine type of the 
 American Christian gentleman." Vet Courtlandt 
 Palmer was not a Christian, scarcely a Unitarian. 
 Positivism was his creed, if he had any. Still there 
 was a diffidence about his dogmatic professions and 
 
[\\ 
 
 'Nkw York 
 
 59 
 
 a pathetic tinge of sadness about his religious think- 
 ings that seemed ever to hint at further possible 
 modifications of opinion. 
 
 ' '* I do not see ni)' way," he once said to me, " about 
 a next Hfe. I wish I could think like you. The old 
 heaven and hell is such an intellectual scandal nowa- 
 days ; one has no patience with the i)eople who talk 
 the current religious nonsense ; but I know that is not 
 your conception of the future life. I have none ; 1 
 wish I had. The Unknowable is still my sphinx — 
 the great mystery hangs over us all. This life is 
 clear: to live up to hum.m love and duty, to labour 
 with the best for the best — that is all I know. I wi.^h 
 to die having done .something in that way. It is A)!' 
 this reason that I earnestly desire to bring all good 
 people together and make them understanil each other 
 on the ground of a common and noble humanity ; t(j 
 worship the true, to love the good, to cultivate the 
 beautiful that is my religion, if I have a religion ; 
 but I am sick of names or nickname.^." 
 
 1 
 
 1l 
 
 ' It was said that (.'(jurllandL Palmer hated the 
 clergy. This was not true; they hated him some 
 of them, at least, whose narrowness forced him into 
 opposition. I^ul some of the best of Lhem were 
 members or visitors at the Nineteenth Centurv Club. 
 At a reception gi\en to me {Americaiio more) at his 
 house I met several clerg)', although I was assured 
 that clerg)', Anglican and nonconforming, wcnild shun 
 me if I entered the arch-heretic's house, or accepted 
 his hospitality. The only Sunday I was in New 
 York, after preaching morn and afternoon in the 
 Church of the Holy Spirit and Grace Church respec- 
 
 
f5E!1 
 
 )t* 
 
 60 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 lively, we mac'f . a pilgrimage with Courtlandt Palmer 
 to hear W.ird Beccher at Brooklyn. Mr. Beechcr's 
 grand prayer that night was reverent and human, like 
 the infinite, trustful, happy sigh of a child in its mother's 
 arms, and no one could be more apparently devout 
 and sympathetic than Courtlandt Palmer. 
 
 • We listened to Bcecher's sermon with that rapt 
 attention which the great American orator could 
 easily command even in his latter days, when he had 
 certainly lost nervous force. As he .sat in his chair 
 restfully watch'ng the disix.'rsal of his vast congrega- 
 tion, we went up to him on the platform. Courtlandt 
 Palmer said : 
 
 '" Mr. Beechcr, I thank you for your noble sermon. 
 I wish thousands more could have neard your grandly 
 human words." 
 
 ' \\ hilst in New York I attended a reception at the 
 Ni'ietcenth Century Club. There must have been 
 over one thousand persons present ; fp.shionably 
 dressed women, the elite of New York's youth and 
 beaut)', were there, and man)* mcii of liqht and lead- 
 ing. When I arrived the hall was already crammed, 
 and ladies in full toilet were sitting all down the 
 grand staircase. The Club met at some large public 
 art galleries. I was the special lecturer on that 
 evening by Courtlandt ralmcr's invitation, and he 
 introduced me with great tact and courtesy. After 
 the lecture and a brief discussion, the company dis- 
 persed for tea and talk all over the spacious ante- 
 rooms. 
 
 * Men of all opinions upon every conceivable 
 subject arc heard at the Nineteenth Century Club, 
 and the tea and promenade and talk at the close 
 
 I 
 
 s 
 
New York 
 
 6i 
 
 generally send everyone home happy, enlightened 
 and content. 
 
 ' Courtlandt Palmer's death was not unforeseen by 
 himself. 
 
 *" I thought," he said to me at New York in 1885. 
 " last week the end was coming. I think my heart 
 stopped ; all grew dark. Well, I'm tiot afraid ; I'm 
 sorry to go, that's all. I might have done worse." 
 
 * When in England he complained much of his 
 head, and his vast correspondence and excessive 
 restlessness and activity seemed to be wearing him 
 out. The end came .soon after, and the eager spirit, full 
 of schemes for the regeneration of mankind, battling 
 to the last with the strife of tongues and a mortal 
 disease, passed away, all too soon, 
 
 ' " To where, be>'ond these voices, there is peace." ' 
 
 : i 
 
 XIV 
 
 IlKNKY Ward Bei:ciii:r as a prcaciier stood up to 
 the day of his death a head and shoulders figuratively 
 above all the preachers in America, perhaps the world. 
 
 President Lincoln said of him that * Bcecher was 
 the greatest motive force he had in the North ' during 
 the anti-slavery war. 
 
 This massive-minded and consummate orator, 
 I have heard it reported, on one occasion went itito a 
 hall packed with Southerners, spoke for three hours, 
 and sent the people out into the streets roaring 
 liberationists, at any rate/r^; /<•;;/. 
 
 Mrs. Heecher Stowe's ' Uncle Tom's Cabin,' and 
 Ward Beecher's oratory probabi)' did more to 
 suppress slavery than all the (itlur ' pleas ' put 
 
 ^ ml 
 
 C\ > 
 
 * i 
 
 .> 
 
02 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 to^^cthcr, barring General Grant's big battalions. 
 Barring, did I say ? Where would the big battah'ons 
 liave been without them ? 
 
 When Mr. lieecher came to London in 1866, in 
 the height of the anti-slavery agitation, he delivered 
 some memorable orations in Kxeter Hall. A man 
 piesent told me )'ou could have walked on the heads 
 of the people. The assembly was motionless atid 
 magnetised, and the listeners seemed to breathe 
 together, breaking out simultaneously into sobbing 
 or tumultuous api)lause. When the great preacher, 
 personally conductetl by Major P(Hid, came over for 
 the last time in 1886, his nervous energy was much 
 lowered, he was already a dying man ; besides, then he 
 had nv)thing to fight. Me resembled Mr. Gladstone in 
 one respect — he was always grandest when at bay, 
 fighting with his back to the wall and in a minority 
 of one. The sermons in 1886 were good but not 
 powerfully characteristic, and the lecturer failed to hit 
 the tone of the public ; there was a slight flavour 
 of sui)erannuation even about the jokes. No, I 
 certainly don't think Ik'echer was (juite haj)py in 
 iMiglatul the second time of asking. 
 
 De Witt Talmagc, a far lesser man, when he was 
 in London in 1893 and recentl}' in Australia, though 
 past his meridian, was brimful of what power he 
 ever had. In the gentle art of saying nothing like a 
 whirlwind, he is certainly supreme. lUit when he 
 says something, he marshals his facts with admir- 
 able effect ; and when he gets on the big war, in 
 which he plaj'ed so active and philanthropic a part, 
 his anect!r)tes are as stirring and grapln'c as the)- are 
 apparently inexhaustible. 
 
Nf,w York 
 
 was 
 
 63 
 
 I did not licar Dc Witt Talmag^c in America. I 
 just missed him in Australia, where the [jjcncral 
 opinion was that his preachinj^ was a hu,c;c success, 
 but his lectures a comparative failure, the audiences 
 bein^ in a diminishing; ratio, chiefly because he 
 elected to talk about I\volution and (juestions, if 
 not beyond, certainl}' outside his ' last.' 
 B As a thinker Talmage could no more be coni- 
 
 j/ared to Beechcr than could Mr. Spur^jeon. Neither 
 Talmacje nor Spurc^con has done an}thins to re- 
 construct theology for the nineteenth eentur)- ; all 
 three as L,nvat popular orators reached each in his 
 way (juite the first rank, but Jieecher distinctly 
 lowers, and intellectually he was almost as happy atid 
 lucid in reconstruction as \V. I'. Robertson of ]?ri;4hton. 
 On the day of llenr)' W'aid Heecher's funeral 
 busy New York clo.sed its shutters, all Hrookl) 11 
 went into mourning, and the current mercantile life 
 of the city .seemed suspended. 
 
 Henry Ward Beechcr was a large, ' whole ' and 
 altogether phenomenal nature. It was not easy to 
 j)lace or to judge him. His moods were infiin'te, and 
 in him, as in most powerful actors and Ileechcr was .i 
 marvellous natural actor extremes met ; the sublime 
 imd the ridicuUnis lay close together. lie was madi.; 
 up of contrasts. He was half a dozen men, not one, 
 which, as Kmerson says, is the real distinction between 
 great and ordinary men. The lion, the wag and the 
 prophet seemed oddly blended and at times (luickl)' 
 interchangeable ; but no one man, save i)erhaps 
 Lincoln or Kmerson, has left such a mark on the 
 American life of the nineteenth century. 
 
 One night I made a pilgrimage to hear Hem}- W. 
 
 1 
 
 !i 
 
 ^i J 
 
 i, 
 
 iU I 
 
64 
 
 Travel ani> Talk 
 
 h 
 
 Heechcr, takinjj a car from Madison Avenue, which in 
 about half an hour brought me to the foot of the 
 famous Brooklyn Suspension Bridge. 
 
 No words can express the effect of that wonderful 
 structure, which spans the river, swings on two mighty 
 piers, and connects New York with Brooklyn. It 
 took me about twenty minutes to walk across. The 
 immense height of the Gothic stone piers, the 
 colossal chains and binders, with their multitudinous 
 network of lines converging in aerial perspective in 
 the electric light, the glimmering cities on both sides 
 the river, and the fleet of night steamers and ferry 
 boats brilliantly aglow with ruby and emerald points 
 of light, formed a magic scene never to be forgotten. 
 
 Another train brought me to within a stone's 
 throw of Ward Beecher's tabernacle, a spacious but un- 
 pretentious-looking edifice. On entering I was offered 
 a slab seat near the front, and very soon, on looking 
 back, I saw that all hope of retreat was completely 
 cut off. luery inch of si)ace was utilised and ever)' 
 seat was occupied. Beccher, in ordinary frock coat 
 and black tic, was reading from the Bible on a raised 
 platform. A tall horn-shaped glass full of large 
 yellow daisies was on one side, and amass of tropical- 
 looking scarlet foxgloves and drooping creepers stood 
 on his left-hand side. 
 
 Henry Ward Jk^echer's hair was completely white, 
 his oval face strongly marked, with finely cut profile, 
 exi>ressive mobile mouth, and rather restless eyes 
 that sometimes flashed out with .';ternness and at 
 others .seemed concentrated with a sort of inward 
 gaze. His manner was very quiet ; his voice very 
 low and distinct and musical ; his reading, to my 
 
I 
 
 
 
 New York 
 
 65 
 
 mind, almost perfect in its natural but impressive 
 emphasis. In the prayer which followed, and which 
 was quite buoyant with hopefulness and trust and full 
 of comfort for the weary and heavy laden, I was much 
 struck by the absolute stillness of the dense throng ; 
 every inflection told ; there was not a superfluous 
 word, no attempt to prompt the Almighty or dictate 
 to Him, or make a personal display of rhetoric ; it 
 was quite an ideal presentment of the creature, with 
 all his wants and sins and hopes and fears, submitting 
 himself to the Creator for guidance and help. Then 
 followed a hymn, which might have been more con- 
 gregational in its delivery, and then the sermon, which 
 lasted about thirty-five minutes. 
 
 Mr. Beccher preached on Christ before Pilate, and 
 I shall not attempt to give any detailed analysis of 
 his sermon. He read the whole account, and pro- 
 ceeded to deal with two criminals — one an individual 
 Pilate, the other a collective body, the multitude who 
 cried, ' Crucify Him ! ' He .showed up Pilate as a weak 
 person, who had not the courage of his opinions, for 
 he knew that Jesus was innocent, but he would not 
 do the right and honest thing, because it was • bad 
 politics.' Upon this theme he played with many 
 good side hits at immoral politicians ; but he only 
 reached his full effectiveness when he came to deal 
 with the corporate ' criminal ' — the crowd who, in 
 their eagerness for their victim, had cried, ' His blood 
 be on us and on our children.' ' Oh, yes ; they were 
 quite ready to take the rcsi){)nsibility of the criminal 
 
 action ' Hcecher stoi)pcd suddenly and turned 
 
 to a passage in the Acts, where these same men, 
 
 when confronted with the prcaciiing of the A[)o^llc.-., 
 
 \UL. I 1 
 
 .1.1 
 
 ifi; 
 
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 n 
 
66 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ^1 
 
 arc found whimpering and complaining that the people 
 are now charging them with the blood-shedding of 
 Jesus. * It is always so,' said Beecher ; * when passion 
 is hot you will take any risk. But b3'-and-by, when 
 you have to take the consequences, you are not 
 so well pleased.' On this theme he waxed most 
 eloquent, with solemn and altogether impressive and 
 earnest seriousness. He dealt with the inexorable 
 nature of the moral law, the inevitable connection in 
 the moral and in the physical world between cause 
 and effect. The penalty might be delayed, for five, 
 for ten years, but the day of reckoning would come, 
 and every breach of the moral law would sooner or 
 later be visited. Toward the close of his sermon he 
 introduced a very powerful and dramatic illustration. 
 ' Down by Hell Gate,' I understood him to say, in 
 allusion to some well-known place where certain 
 blasting was to be carried out, ' the rock is tunnelled, 
 and deep under the solid masses over which men 
 walk with such careless security, there are now laid 
 trains of explosive powder. All seems so safe and 
 firm outwardly, it is hardly possible to imagine that 
 those solid masses will ever be shaken, but the time will 
 come when a tiny spark will fire the whole train, and 
 the mountain will be in a moment rent in the air and 
 torn to atoms. There are men here to-night,' he said, 
 looking round — and a kind of shudder went through 
 the assembly — * there are men here who are tunnelled, 
 mined ; their time will come, not to-day or to-morrow, 
 not for months or years perhaps, but it will come ; 
 in a moment, from an unforeseen quarter, a trifling 
 incident, their reputations will be blown to atoms, 
 and what they have sown the)* will reap— /wj/ that. 
 There is no dynamite like men's lusts and passions.' 
 
\E\V YOUK 
 
 67 
 
 in 
 
 As I mingled with the thronj^ who passed out 
 into the Brooklyn streets, everyone seemed subdued 
 and solemnised. I could not wonder at Heechcr's 
 long-sustained and, to the day of his death, unabated 
 pulpit popularity. 
 
 Only once or twice did Heecher rise to anything 
 like oratorical fervour. I can understand that he is 
 often more powerful, but I should think seldom more 
 really impressive, and all the more so on account of a 
 certain deliberate and sad restfulness of delivery, like 
 that of a man speaking out of the wisdom of his heart 
 concerning the things he knows to be true. 
 
 When an English edition of his sermons was called 
 for, I was invited by the publisher to edit the book. 
 I chose a certain number of his finest sermons, rang- 
 ing from 1S56 to 1S70, and sent a fly-leaf frontispiece 
 to Hrookl)'n for approval. I had styled the i)reacher 
 by inadvertence * the Rev. Ward Jkecher,' although, 
 being already personally acquainted with him, I 
 should have avoided the error. 1 received the follow- 
 ing characteristic letter of rebuke : 
 
 I: 
 {■ 
 
 • July 23, 1886. 
 
 'Mv I)K.\R Hawk IS,— When my mother, of sainted 
 memory, brought me to the altar, I was baptised with 
 the na,mG of Henrj' ]V<ird In'cchcr, and I am determined 
 to preserve her work from all dissection and demoli- 
 tion. I am an orphan ; I have little in this world but 
 my name ; I will not suffer that to be taken from or 
 added to. I have refused a D.D., and I never use 
 the Rev. 
 
 'Some call me Henry Ward (in America), and in 
 England Ward Heecher, and ckc Heecher, all of which 
 
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 •f !/■ 
 
 68 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I tolerate as an economy of breath, and maintain my 
 amiable mood. Hut when a learned man like you, 
 deliberately, and upon the back of my sermons, in 
 coloured ink, prints me Ward Beecher, leaving my 
 mutilated name to go down, like cruel surgery, with- 
 out being bound up or its blood staunched, I cry out 
 — I will cry — and continue to cry, till you give me 
 my whole name, Henry Ward BeccJicr. Wliat has 
 Henry done that it should be expelled, divorced, ex- 
 cluded—remorselessly exscinded? Restore me, put 
 me together again, and I will ever pray for blessings 
 on your head. 
 
 • I am pleased to have my sermons circulated and 
 read, and I know of no one who, from a long ac- 
 quaintance with my writings, is better fitted to select 
 and edit them than yourself. All the recompense 
 I ask is, that I may have a copy sent me by my 
 indulgent publisher. 
 
 'IlENKV Ward Bkechek.' 
 
 Beecher was essentially an orator — not a writer ; 
 he did, indeed, once attempt a novel, but he was very 
 modest about his own literary merits, and I have 
 iieard him say jestingly, ' Why, it would be as absurd 
 for so and-so to pretend to eminence in the pulpit, as 
 it would be for me to pretend I could write a novel 
 like my sister's " Uncle Tom ! " ' 
 
 Some people thought that Beecher must be a vain 
 man ; but such men are not usually vain or conceited, 
 their outlook is too wide, their experience of them- 
 selves and others is too sobering ; the vain ones arc 
 the little people who climb up on their shoulders by 
 toadying, and then criticising them like flunkeys who 
 strut in borrowed plumes. 
 
New York 
 
 69 
 
 "i 
 
 i'\ 
 
 XV 
 
 Andrew Carxk(;ie gave us a fine supper that 
 night at Delmonico's. It was a strange Sunday. I 
 had h'stcncd in the morning with deep satisfaction to my 
 friend Dr. Guilbert at the Church of the Holy Spirit 
 (now in the hands of Dr. Meber Newton) ; preached my- 
 self for Dr. Huntington at Grace Church in the after- 
 noon, midst a raging storm of rain, hail, thunder and 
 lightning, and in company with Courtlandt I'almer the 
 Agnostic, and the charming Miss Ingersoll, daughter of 
 the famous Anything-arian lecturer Colonel Ingersoll 
 — listened to Henry Ward Hcecher at night. 
 
 A supper at Delmonico's with canvas-back duck 
 and terrapin soup and every other thing rare and 
 strange seemed a not inappropriate close to such a 
 many-sided day. The canvas-back, which had it been 
 cooked would have been good, I managed a few 
 mouthfuls of, drowned in cayenne pepper ; it had 
 just been carried through a warm kitchen- -it was 
 redder than the cayenne — it was . . . Never mind- -1 
 survived it. The little mud-turtles in the soup were 
 more to my taste. Mr. Carnegie talked, and talked 
 freely, his opinions generally being delivered in a 
 trenchant manner, mostly at variance with other 
 people's, and carelessly unsupported by arL;un"icnt — 
 not the less amusing and suggestive for that. 
 
 Absolutely the only thing more I recollect abcnit 
 that Sunday night supper was a piece of interesting 
 information about the canvas-back duck. It seems 
 there really is a canvas-back duck that dives for 
 the wild celery, and brings it up to the surface anfl 
 
 I' ! 
 
^ 
 
 IJ 
 
 4, 
 
 70 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 fccfls royally thereon. It thus with a most con- 
 siderate epicureanism enjoys the luxury of a delicate 
 meal, whilst flavouring itself for the table, l^ut 
 numbers of ducks — not canvas-backs — arc sold for 
 such, and in truth taste just as good. The canvas- 
 back diver in fact brings up a great deal more celery 
 than it can eat, and crowds of other ducks that have 
 not laboured proceed to enter into its labours and 
 eat its wild celery ; of course they get themselves 
 flavoured quite as well that way, and no epicure can 
 tell the difference. 
 
 XVI 
 
 IIeber Newton is a very different type of man 
 from Ward Heecher, but he is certainly one of the 
 most pronounced and influential religious personalities 
 in America. When I was in New York he was in 
 very feeble health, and I had the honour of preaching 
 twice for him in the Church of the Holy Spirit (now 
 called All Souls), at one time in charge of my good 
 friend Dr. Guilbert. 
 
 It is to Hcber Newton that I owe a very pleasant 
 glimpse of Long Island — the New York Isle of 
 Wight. 
 
 A hundred miles away from the great cit)', at 
 the extremity of Long Island, lies East Hampton — 
 home of some of the earliest New iMigland settlers. 
 
 A mile or two beyond is a quiet coast land. A 
 sandy reach of ' dunes,* tufted with coarse grass, vocal 
 with grasshoppers and winged things full of gorgeous 
 colour, bright little active toads, and a few harmless 
 snakes, miles of clean yellow sand and a blue sea on 
 
New York 
 
 71 
 
 one side, a scries of fresh-water lakes, frin^^ctl with 
 polychrome forests, boasting of kingfishers, blue jays, 
 and even eagles, on the other — such is the retreat of 
 the Rev. Dr. Hebcr Newton. Nor of him alone ; at 
 a pistol shot from where I stopped stands Dr. De Witt 
 Talmage's log shanty, in reality a commodious and 
 elegant wooden mansion, and about him, at respect- 
 ful distances, the well-appointed wooden houses of 
 select divines, physicians, and other men of culture, 
 who seek here in the summer months surcease from 
 patients, clients, congregations, and, I may add, cos- 
 tume of the period. 
 
 I was glad to get a glimpse of this j-^/wj/^/^y?// New 
 England life, which in its simplicity recalls something 
 of the old * Evangeline' days ; but, above all, I was 
 pleased to find my friend Hcber Newton in these 
 quiet surroundings in his charmingly appointed plank 
 house on the sand dunes close to the breaking of the 
 waves — to see him in his unconstrained and hapj)y 
 home life, with his ideally mated wife, charming 
 daughter, and fine manly sons. 
 
 And who is Ileber Newton ? At New York a 
 name to conjure with. lie is, in a word, the leader 
 of the advanced but altogether spiritual and devo- 
 tional Hroad Church party in America. More intel- 
 lectual and constructive than Phillips Brooks, there is 
 probably no divine now left in America who wields 
 so wide, sane, and purifying an influence in the Epi- 
 scopal American Church. ' Right and Wrong Uses 
 of the Bible * and * Creed and Church ' arc amongst 
 his best known volumes, but his influence is felt in 
 the vast congregations that assemble in All Souls 
 whenever he preaches, and his prolonged withdrawal 
 
 
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 in 1893 owing to ill health has been an irreparable 
 loss to New York. I am glad to say that he has 
 now slowly recovered from the nervous collapse 
 brought on by years of overwork, embittered by 
 anxious polemics — for Heber Newton is a fighter. 
 
 Born in 1840, ordained deacon at twenty-two, he 
 came to New York in 1869, and for twenty-four years 
 he has been widening and deepening in doctrine and 
 spirituality, somewhat to the consternation of his 
 ecclesiastical rulers. The last ten years of Heber 
 Newton's life have been years of hard fighting, and 
 the battle is by no means over. His lectures on the 
 Bible brought the first episcopal censure down upon 
 him. Bishop Potter suspended his course on Genesis 
 — not, however, characteristically enough, until he had 
 got to the last sermon ; then Father Ignatius set up 
 in a hall close to his church, and so badgered Bishop 
 Potter, and ' worried around ' generally, that a com- 
 mission was appointed to inquire into Newton's 
 orthodoxy. We believe the commission is still busy. 
 It is composed chiefly of second and third rate men, 
 themselves somewhat innocent of theology. Bishop 
 Potter, kindest, ablest, and discreetest of men, is well 
 known to be adverse to such prosecutions, but, like 
 most bishops, is occasionally forced to take vexatious 
 action by lay bigots, always more clerical than the 
 clergy, who get played upon by some wordy busy- 
 body like Ignatius. Certainly an attack upon Heber 
 Newton proved * very good business,' as the theatrical 
 managers say. 
 
 * And for me,' said Heber Newton, * it was excel- 
 lent. Of course I let the Father go on without reply. 
 He was giving me the opportunity I had so long 
 
 . 
 
New York 
 
 73 
 
 waited for. When he had done I was certain of the 
 ear not only of New York, but of America, for what 
 I had to say ; he saved me all the trouble and ex- 
 pense of advertisement, and paved the way, by his 
 noisy and impertinent diatribes, for the wholesome 
 truths I wished to impart to a circle far wider than 
 my own local congregation.' 
 
 ' But what is your present position in the Church ? ' 
 ' Well, I am still waiting. The Commission of In- 
 quiry would probably have gone to sleep, but I would 
 not allow thisj, and wrote to the Bishop insisting on 
 some conclusion. Charges had been made — un- 
 tenable heresies, a dishonest ministry, keeping in the 
 Church for the sake of gain, &c. Why,' said Newton, 
 * if I went out to-morrow, as many have done in 
 our country, I should be five times better off than 
 I am r.">", My traducers forget that. Let them 
 look at the . *lcs of popularity acquired by othef 
 seceders like Swing of Chicago. It is easy enougn 
 to preach enlightened doctrines, and bring religion 
 up to date outside the Church ; but I entirely hold 
 with you, our mission is to reform from within, and 
 to claim enlightenment and truth right in the mid- 
 stream of authority and tradition represented by the 
 Reformed Church. I was surprised at Stopford 
 Brooke's secession ; it was easy, but it was not heroic 
 — it was simply surrender.' 
 
 Perhaps the most striking remarks made by Hcber 
 Newton were in connection with the Roman Catholic 
 Church in America : 
 
 * People don't seem to grasp the importance of 
 Leo XIII.'s action in sending o\er a legate, and re- 
 instating Dr. McGlynn in opposition to the Ultra- 
 
 ri. 
 
74 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 f I 
 
 / 
 
 m 
 
 montane policy of his own Archbishop. Here was 
 McGlynn actually excommunicated and deposed at 
 the instance of Archbishop Corrigan in his own diocese, 
 chiefly on account of Socialist politics, and when the 
 Father appeals to Rome after defying his diocesan, 
 the Pope sends a legate and reinstates the recalcitrant 
 priest under the Bishop's nose — and this is done 
 manifestly out of deference to American popular and 
 public opinion. What does it mean ? It means that 
 the dogma " Catholic first, American second " will be 
 reversed, and it is to be American first, dogma second. 
 The Pope admits by this and similar acts that respect 
 for American opinion is essential to the maintenance 
 of Roman authority in America. The Roman Catho- 
 lic Church is to be adapted and remoulded to suit our 
 national needs and aspirations. This is an entirely new 
 departure, and it emanates from Rome. It is a blow 
 struck at Ultramontanism by Ultramontanes ! It is 
 the beginning of the end of the old, fatal, and suicidal 
 non possumus, which has so long sat like a nightmare 
 upon the bosom of the Roman Catholic Church, and 
 prevented it from breathing freely. All liberalism 
 has been quenched in Europe ; but what no Pope has 
 done for France or Italy, Leo XIII. has just accom- 
 plished for America : he has supported independence 
 and freedom of thought within the Roman Catholic 
 Church.' 
 
 Heber Newton spoke of the deplorable effect pro- 
 duced by the Archbishop of Canterbury's snub to the 
 Parliament of Religions at Chicago. 
 
 * The Roman Catholic Church rose at once above 
 such a narrow and pusillanimous policy. She ac- 
 cepted the invitation heartily and respectfully, and 
 
New York 
 
 75 
 
 sent, in Cardinal Gibbons and Archbishop Ireland, 
 two of her stronf^cst men. No doubt the official 
 authority of your Archbishop has influenced many of 
 our clergy, but his censure is, nevertheless, widely de- 
 plored, and felt to be unworthy of his high office, and 
 out of harmony with the age. There is a curious 
 irony about the head of the reformed Churches posing 
 as a narrow inquisitor or Mugwump at the moment 
 that the Pope is throwing over the old 7i07i possumus 
 to join hands with the latest and most daring forms 
 of political and religious liberalism.' 
 
 Of course it is justifiable to criticise the attitude 
 of the Archbishops and Bishops of the English 
 Church ; but we must remember that it is easy to 
 be wise after the event, and no one could have quite 
 anticipated the weighty and solemn character assumed 
 by that unique concourse of the world's religious re- 
 presentatives at Chicago in the Hall of Columbus. 
 
 Heber Newton is a man apparently in the prime 
 of life ; outwardly he shows no signs of that nervous 
 prostration which followed an attack of influenza in 
 1893. His countenance seems ever radiant with 
 peace and even joyousness. He speaks with flowing 
 ease and grace, is full of anecdote anc wit, and a 
 most fascinating companion. A deeper note is 
 frequently struck, and his spiritual sensibility, as it 
 were, shines through and irradiates the common affairs 
 and occasions of life. That so pure and fervent a 
 spirit may not too soon wer.r out the earthen vessel, 
 is the prayer of many a graceful and devoted heart 
 in New York City. On writing (1895) to ask how 
 he was getting on with the commission appointed to 
 
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 76 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 inquire into his orthodoxy; I received the following 
 characteristic letter from him : 
 
 ' Bemardsville, N.J. 
 Rev. IL R. Ilawcis, M.A., 
 
 ' Queen's llcuse, Cheyne Walk, 
 * Lonrlon, S.W., England. 
 
 December ii, 1895. 
 
 ' Dear Mr. Haweis, — Your letter from home is 
 very welcome. It relieves my mind of an anxiety. 
 Never having heard of you as passing by here on your 
 way home, as you had expected, I did not know but 
 that in your remarkable individuality of life you might 
 have essayed a journey to the Milky Way en route for 
 London. I am very sorry to hear that you have 
 been so much worn down. I should not have guessed 
 it from the brilliant articles I have seen from you in 
 the magazines. 
 
 * How you must have enjoyed this round-the-world 
 trip ! 
 
 ' In answer to your inquiry, I am glad to report 
 that I am still within the fold of the one true and 
 only true Church. I suppose your inquiry refers to 
 the slight disturbance of last spring. 1 do not know 
 whether you understand how that came about. 
 While you were in this country, our House of Bishops 
 set forth a pastoral letter of a most astonishing cha- 
 racter ; undertaking to define the Church's teachings 
 upon the doctrine of the Incarnation, the Birth of 
 Christ, the Resurrection of Christ, and the Inspiration 
 of the Scriptures. They assumed to do what never 
 has been done in our Church — i.e. give an autho- 
 ritative and an official interpretation of the Creeds. 
 They even ventured so far as to say concerning the 
 Resurrection of Christ that the Church tolerated no 
 other teaching than that interpretation which they set 
 
New York 
 
 11 
 
 forth. It seemed to me that this pastoral letter was 
 fraught with great danger to the intellectual liberty 
 of the Church. I tried to get a united protest against 
 it, but failed. Had I been in good strength I should 
 have taken up the letter seriatim in a series of 
 sermons. I was not up to this. So I relieved my 
 conscience by taking direct issue with the House of 
 Bishops on the question of the Resurrection of Christ, 
 when Easter time came around, and in as explicit a 
 way as my English allowed, set forth the very teach- 
 ing which they had declared to be not tolerated in the 
 Church — namely, the spiritual nature of the resurrec- 
 tion body of Jesus in which He appeared to the 
 disciples. You can quite imagine the holy horror of 
 the brethren. For a while J thought my day had 
 come at last. But I stood to my colours and let the 
 excitement wear down, which it did in time. So I 
 had the satisfaction of demonstrating that the Church 
 did tolerate this particular view. And thus I had the 
 satisfaction of making an effectual protest against the 
 intolerant position assumed in the letter. Incident- 
 ally I had a great opportunity of leading the thought 
 of the religious people in the country to this larger 
 conception of the truth, as I had ample opportunity 
 of knowing from all parts of the country. 
 
 * Since then I have been quietly at my work. 
 
 * Does this answer your inquiry ? If not, ask me 
 anything further, and I will tell you the truth, the 
 whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 
 
 * Mrs. Newton joins me in most cordial remem- 
 brances to Mrs. Haweis. 
 
 ' It is barely possible that I may have a chance of 
 listening to you in your own church another summer. 
 
 • Always yours sincerely, 
 
 • R. Heber Newton.' 
 
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 Travel and Talk 
 
 XVII 
 
 Dr. Henry Charles Potter, Bishop of New 
 York, it will be generally admitted, stands at the head 
 of the New York clergy, and stands very high, both 
 in capacity, energy, and achievement. Of the many 
 Episcopal clergy whose good name and fame is in 
 all mouths, I number specially among my few good 
 friends and valued acquaintances Dr. Rainsford, 
 Dr. Huntington, Dr. Guilbert, Dr. Heber Newton, and 
 Dr. Henry Potter, the Bishop of New York, 
 
 Dr. Henry Potter, of whom it has been remarked 
 that he was never known to say an imprudent thing 
 or do an unwise one, is nevertheless, like our Dr. 
 Moorhouse, Bishop of Manchester, one of the bravest 
 and, like our Stanley, Dean of Westminster, one of the 
 most chivalrous of men. He was the trusted almoner 
 of the late wealthy Miss Wolff, an admirable lady, 
 whom it was my privilege to meet at Dr. Huntington's 
 house, and who was good enough to keep her house 
 open a fortnight later than usual on purpose to offer 
 me hospitality. Dr. Henry Potter, formerly rector of 
 Grace Church, now Bishop of New York, came over 
 to London several years ago with letters of introduc- 
 tion from my friend Senator Sumner, if I remember 
 rightly, or vtce versa, and I had the honour of accom- 
 panying him to Fulham to visit the Bishop of London, 
 as later on I introduced Dr. Peabody, the Boston Pro- 
 fessor of Moral Philosophy, to Archbishop Tait at a 
 garden party at Lambeth. Old Dr. Peabody positively 
 shook and trembled with emotion in the presence 
 of the Archbishop, and in the midst of the historic 
 and venerable precincts and associations of Lambeth 
 
 
T 
 
 Nkvv York 
 
 79 
 
 Palace, and was unable to get out a word when Arch- 
 bishop Tait shook him in a friendly way by the hand 
 with his pleasant little Scotch smile. 
 
 Dr. Potter first introduced himself to me one 
 Sunday morning after service in the vestry of St. 
 James's, Westmoreland Street. 
 
 Bishop Potter's friendly attentions to me from the 
 time of our first meeting till now have been many ; 
 and in 189$ he was very useful in facilitating for me 
 some lines of travel with his introductions. I have 
 just stumbled upon one of his friendly letters. 
 
 •London : February 7, 1887. 
 
 * My dear Mr. Haweis, — Many thanks for your call 
 and most kind note. 
 
 * I am sorry to think that I shall miss you. 
 
 'If I were to be here it would give me great 
 pleasure to be of any service in any form, but 1 sail 
 next Saturday for America. 
 
 * I trust you are not seriously indisposed, and am, 
 with all good wishes, 
 
 ' Very faithfully yours, 
 
 • II. C. Potter.' 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Grover Cleveland. — No President since Lin- 
 coln (Grant was a military more than a civil figure) 
 has made anything like the mark which Cleveland 
 has already made (1895) and is likely to leave on 
 the political character and constitution of his country. 
 
 I speak of course as a complete outsider. I am 
 as completely outside American politics as Cleveland 
 is rather ostentatiously (1893) outside British politics. 
 
 
 ) 
 
 i i 
 
 I'll 
 
 III 
 
T 
 
 So 
 
 Tkavkl and Talk 
 
 I 
 
 A distinguished American has just assured me 
 (1896) that President Cleveland, who was returned 
 on the Democratic ticket, is a good ' England hater.' 
 I can hardly believe it, though, like any other Presi- 
 dent, he has shown himself quite equal to a little 
 international frontier juggling at England's expense 
 on the eve of an election. 
 
 A bright sun, a bitter wind, a blue sky, and the 
 thermometer 4° below zero — and there you have 
 Washington on the morning of December 7, 1885, 
 at the opening of Congress. The immense dome- 
 crowned pile of white marble (?) which stands up 
 against the blue sky, and is reached by flights of 
 marble steps, looks like nothing less than St. Paul's 
 Cathedral built of snow, with a couple of huge 
 Parthenon temples on either side. P'rom an early 
 hour the vast halls and corridors were crowded with 
 a miscellaneous throng, and about half-past eleven the 
 Senators and M.C.'s began to pour in. Mr. Abram 
 S. Hewitt, one of the foremost men in Congress, 
 was good enough to pass me to the President's own 
 gallery. It was an imposing spectacle. An immense 
 hall packed, the floor laid out as an amphitheatre, 
 the Speaker's tribune on one side, deep galleries all 
 round, and every place thronged, every door besieged 
 with twenty or thirty rejected applicants for admission. 
 
 Many of the members, as I looked down, seemed 
 embarrassed by the huge bouquets placed on their 
 desks by political admirers. The roar of conversation 
 subsided for the roll-call of names, and the Clerk of 
 the House then took the votes for the two Speakers 
 nominated, Reed and Carlisle. All through the 
 voting viva voce, errand boys capered up and down the 
 
T 
 
 Nkw York 
 
 8i 
 
 House and members carried on excited colloquies. 
 It was soon clear that Mr. Speaker Carlisle would be 
 re-elected, and presently he was escorted to his high 
 seat by Reed, the rejected candidate, and another 
 hon. member. Me then made what I suppose is the 
 routine speech of thanks, buttering the House pro- 
 fusely as the greatest political assembly in the world ; 
 then reminding hon. members of their duties, which 
 was more to the point ; recommending mutual for- 
 bearance, candour, order, and general propriety of 
 conduct ; lastly, promising to govern the House with 
 impartiality and justice according to the best of his 
 power, &c. Judge Kelly, the oldest M.C. present, 
 then advanced to the front in plain clothes (of course 
 everyone wore plain clothes), and standing on the 
 floor of the House, swore the Speaker in. It was 
 understood that little more would be done that da\', 
 Sherman having been duly elected as President of 
 the Senate pro tcin. I took a last look round on the 
 immense assembly. A portion of the galleries was 
 devoted to the general public ; but everyone was in 
 black upstairs and down, and the effect was most 
 impressive, almost funereal. The bright stars and 
 stripes draped above the Speaker were the only spot 
 of colour in the House except the occasional bouquets 
 dotted about on the dr esse s, chiefly of the Southern 
 M.C.'s. "^ ^ 
 
 I left the members of Council and the Senators in 
 full session. The swearing in of one member is like 
 the swearing in of another, and out of respect to the 
 memory of Vice-President Hendricks it was arranged 
 
 that the 
 adjourn. 
 
 House, after electing its officers, should 
 
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 82 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I entered the White House. Ascending the 
 marble steps I was ushered into a spacious hall, in 
 which stood a large picture of Washington about to 
 sign the inevitable Decree of Independence as usual. 
 A very beautiful glazed opaque glass screen separated 
 the hall from the rest of the ground floor. To right 
 and left open out other apartments, anterooms, and 
 the staircase leading to the President's own chambers. 
 On receiving my card the President sent down that 
 he would see me at once. On such a day, when all 
 W^ashington was in a political ferment, and the 
 President was understood to be preparing his Mes- 
 sage, I should not have been surprised if I had been 
 kept waiting an hour or two, and then learned that 
 the first citizen of America was rather too busy to 
 engage in small talk with travellers. Not at all. 
 
 As I entered the spacious apartment in which the 
 head of the American State transacts business, the 
 President was sitting at his bureau with his back to 
 the windows, and after shaking me warmly by the 
 hand bade me be seated. He was in the middle of 
 a long letter, but he pushed it aside, and, swinging 
 himself round on his pivoted chair (like those used 
 in the Pullman cars), he at once inquired about n.y 
 stay in America ; asked me how far they had got on 
 with business in the House ; and on my remarking 
 that the Speaker, who had finished about half an 
 hour ago, seemed to be rather profuse in his thanks, 
 dealing out a good deal of butter to the M.C.'s 
 assembled — 
 
 ' I guess,' said Mr. Cleveland, * they can stand a 
 good deal of that. 
 
 He added that Carlisle was admirably fitted for 
 the post of Speaker, and he was right glad of his 
 
 1< 
 
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 Nkw York 
 
 83 
 
 rc-elcction, commanding, as he did, the esteem and 
 confidence of all sides of the House. Speaking of 
 Mr. Abram S. Hewitt, who had given me my 
 letter of introduction, he said : 
 
 ' He is a most able man, but I fear his health is 
 not good. Unfortunately, nervous energy, brain 
 power, and physical strength do not alwaj's go 
 together. For every great effort Hewitt has to pay. 
 A great speech costs him a great deal — days before. 
 I wish I could give him some of my strength.' 
 
 The President then went on to say he missed his 
 exercise. * When I was a bachelor I a'ways made a 
 point of taking my meals in a different place from 
 where I slept. At breakfast time I went out, all 
 weathers, and took a good stiff walk before I got my 
 food. To such habits I attribute a good deal of my 
 health and strength.' He asked me about my own 
 methods of work, &c., which would hardly be widely 
 interesting to a discerning public, and added : 
 
 * I myself sit up late, but I sleep well — a great 
 point ; but this White House all day long, and not 
 to be able to get away, it sometimes oppresses me, 
 Walking in the streets is, of course, not pleasant, 
 I get into my carriage, which is change of air, but 
 I find the less exercise I take the less inclined I am 
 for it.' 
 
 Some one here came in with despatches, and I 
 rose to go, but the President seemed in no hurry. 
 
 * It seems to me,' I said, ' at such a time as this 
 that your minutes run out like golden sands. I 
 thought you would be too busy with your Message 
 to see me.' 
 
 ' Oh,' he said, swaying to right and left on his 
 wooden chair, * I finished my Message on Thursday. 
 
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 84 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Of course I am beset with business, but there often 
 comes a hill in the busiest day, and one is rather glad 
 of the relief.' 
 
 I was struck throughout with President Cleve- 
 land's ease of manner, and his aptitude for interrup- 
 tions. He seemed to me a man like Lord Brougham, 
 but without Brougham's irritability, capable of getting 
 through any quantity of work with astonishing speed 
 and little effort, and like so many very busy men he 
 seemed always to have time to be idle. 
 
 * I had a very pleasant little visit from Archdeacon 
 Farrar the olher day,' he remarked ; * he seems a 
 very agreeable gentleman, and I heard one of his 
 lectures.' 
 
 The President seemed bent on light chit-chat, 
 and I therefore avoided the introduction of any 
 political question ; but he suddenly broke off. 
 
 ' What will be the end of all this power suddenly 
 thrown into the hands of the masses in England ? 
 Who will hold the balance ? ' 
 
 I said it looked very much as if the Irish would 
 (1885): that for many years we had been trying to 
 govern them, and it seemed now as if they were going 
 to have a turn and govern us, the Irish vote having 
 to be rather more than reckoned with by either 
 side of the House. He then asked about Mr. 
 Parnell, and on my remarking that as Mr. Parnell 
 was a statesman and a gentleman, although more 
 dangerous than an inferior leader, the members would 
 rather have him than another, because they could deal 
 with him on equal terms — 
 
 * That,' replied the President, * is very justly said 
 they might easily change for the worse.' 
 
 He asked which party was going to govern next 
 
New York 
 
 8S 
 
 (this was December 7, before the result of the elections 
 was known), to which I replied that many people 
 who called themselves Liberals were so disgusted 
 with the muddled foreign policy of the last few years 
 that they would not be sorry to see Lord Salisbury 
 at the helm, simply because they wanted a change. 
 
 I am no politician, but the history of English 
 politics 1885 to 1895 ha^ curiously confirmed my 
 presentiment. 
 
 I was a little impressed with the feeling that 
 the President took a purely outside interest in 
 our politics. They did not seem to affect him 
 one way or the other. He had no part in the 
 European Concert — he was simply curious to know 
 as a matter of gossip on a big scale ; indeed, with 
 three thousand miles of ocean rolling between, what 
 can it matter to America, complete in her gigantic 
 self, whether Lord Salisbury, or Mr. Gladstone, or 
 Lord Rosebery,or Mr. Parnell rule the roost ? Niagara 
 would go on just the same. I heard the other day 
 that a school atlas had been issued in the United 
 States in which all the islands — England among 
 them — had been omitted as likely to confuse the 
 pupil with unessential details. This may have been 
 a joke, but with a dash of sense in it. 
 
 I asked the President if he had ever been to 
 England. He said No, and had never felt moved to 
 leave America. There was so much to do there. 
 He has four years more to reign (1885), and then — 
 then, as Miss Cleveland remarked to me after my inter- 
 view with the President — ' no one can tell what will 
 happen,' but she seemed to imply that although the 
 burden of the State at times was well-nigh intolerable, 
 Cleveland would not willingly leave the helm. 
 
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 Travel and Talk 
 
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 ' For years he has had certain aims before him, 
 and as long as he sees some chance of lessening the 
 corruptions and abuses with which the head of the 
 State has to grapple, he will go on.' 
 
 As I rose for the second time to leave, President 
 Cleveland rose and accompanied me to the drawing- 
 room, where we found Miss Cleveland, who before I 
 left was good enough to show me through the chief 
 rooms in the White House : the large bedroom in 
 which poor Garfield lay, and which was then her 
 own ; the President's bedroom and private study ; the 
 room occupied by the Prince of Wales in President 
 Buchanan's time, and the elegant drawing-rooms 
 and private reception chambers. The interior of the 
 White House is on a large scale a reproduction of 
 many a great country seat in England. I under- 
 stood from Miss Cleveland that it was a close copy 
 of the Duke of Leinster's seat. Miss Cleveland 
 herself, although before the President's marriage 
 she occupied the position of the foremost lady in 
 the land, never allowed the onerous social duties 
 which she discharged with such gracious ease and 
 hospitality to prevent her from taking the liveliest 
 interest in the arts and literature. She is herself the 
 authoress of a charming book of essays, justly ad- 
 mired and widely read, and she gratified me personally 
 by saying that she had been attracted to my writings 
 years ago by reading an article of mine on ' Emanuel 
 Deutsch,' of Talmud celebrity, and was just then 
 engaged in studying ' Music and Morals.' Of course 
 this won my heart. 
 
 I have never drawn very close to the American 
 
New York 
 
 87 
 
 politician. But I have known one or two who have 
 inspired me with respect and admiration. Unhappily, 
 such men can be counted on the fingers ; but they 
 stand out as witnesses that it is possible to enter the 
 arena of politics, if not without some compromise, at 
 least without serious loss of dignity. 
 
 Among these I need ot say, in the opinion of all 
 unprejudiced persons, is l^rcsident Grover Cleveland. 
 It has been my privilege to know ' personally at 
 least three other high class politicians — Senator 
 Abram Hewitt, the Hon. John Bigelow, and 
 Senator Charles Sumner. 
 
 XIX 
 
 Abram Hewitt was introduced to me by the late 
 Sir Morell Mackenzie, whose patient he was whilst 
 in England. On my arrival in 1885 in New York, I 
 immediately received a courteous invitation to stay 
 with him on his large estate in New Jersey. I here 
 got my first impression of a country gentleman's life 
 in the wilder parts of Nev Jersey. Accompanied by 
 my wife, I drove through a large thinned-out tract 
 of wooded country. All the old trees in the park 
 had been cut down, and the coloured and half-caste 
 people were at work on the land. At last we came to 
 something like open rough lawnland and a large house 
 all built of timber, but splendidly appointed inside in 
 the latest French style ; there was no touch of anything 
 peculiar, highly artistic or specially aesthetic about it 
 — simply French. The hall was decorated with skins, 
 antlers, trophies of the chase and implements of the 
 vanishing, or I may say vanished Indian. 
 
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 88 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 For several days we enjoyed the hospitality and 
 agreeable society of Abram Hewitt and his amiable 
 wife and daughters. 
 
 I remember Mr. Hewitt's taking us on to his lawn 
 and calling our attention to a little wooden shed on 
 the slope of the hill, in full view of the house. * That/ 
 said he with the pardonable pride of a man who felt 
 he was preserving an interesting monument of Ame- 
 rican ancient history, * that wooden shed is where 
 Washington stopped to shoe his horses ; it was a forge 
 in those days, and I would not allow it to be pulled 
 down, though man}- people declared that it spoiled 
 the view. To mc it is an interesting relic of the past. 
 I will not have it touched.' 
 
 We drove out one day to see a beautiful lake 
 about twelve miles away, still on Abram Hewitt's 
 land. ' I had some idea,' he said, * of coming back 
 by rail ; ' in fact, a line of rail ran by the lake. 
 
 ' But where is the terminus ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, not near here.' 
 
 ' How could you use the train, then ? ' 
 
 * Stop it,' he said. 
 
 ' Just hold up your umbrella ? ' I said, joking. 
 
 'Why, yes, about that.' 
 
 ' And would that stop the train ? ' 
 
 ' Why, yes,' said Hewitt, ?.miling at my ignorance. 
 ' You see, the railway belongs to me, so they must 
 stop ! ' 
 
 Truly they do things on a grand scale in America. 
 I sent him a * Pall Mall Gazette ' article in which I 
 had given some account of President Cleveland, and 
 recorded the President's kind allusions to himself 
 
 I wrote again in 1890 telling him of Sir Morell 
 Mackenzie's proposed visit to America, for at that 
 
New York 
 
 89 
 
 time Sir Morell had some thoughts of going to 
 New York and Boston to deliver some lectures ; 
 the lectures, however, did not come off. 
 Mr, Hewitt writes : 
 
 • Aix-les-Bains, Fiance : 
 
 'July 14, 1890. 
 
 * Dear Mr. Haweis, — Youmoteof i6th inst. has 
 just reached me at these baths, to which I have been 
 banished for the cure from a very serious attack of 
 rheumatism. I hope to sail for home on Aug. 2nd, 
 and to see Dr. Morell Mackenzie at my house during 
 his visit. He must not pass us by, as we are old 
 friends. 
 
 * Your reference to me is duly appreciated, and I 
 am glad to have been remembered by Mrs. Piaweis, 
 to whom please present my kind regards, 
 
 ' I regret that my stay will be too short in England 
 to admit of a personal renewal of the very pleasant 
 associations of your visit to America. 
 
 ' Sincerely yours, 
 
 'A. Hewitt.' 
 
 Communication had been opened between Sir 
 Morell Mackenzie and the Lowell Institute, but the 
 episode of the German Emperor and Mackenzie's 
 book had intervened, and I fear that professional un- 
 popularity had something to do with the withdrawal 
 of the Lowell Institution's offer. Mackenzie was 
 no doubt annoyed, but he bore what he certainly 
 considered to be a snub with characteristic dignity 
 and good humour. He wrote me the following letter, 
 as it was by my advice that he had first turned his 
 eyes to Boston as a lecturing field. 
 
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 90 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 * 19 Ilarley Street, Cavendish Square, W, : 
 
 ♦December 2";, 1889. 
 
 ' My dear Haweis,— Mr. Augustus ^^owdl'; 
 simply says : " I must regret that circumstances 
 compel me to withdraw the invitation I sent you to 
 lecture at the Lowell Institute." 
 
 ' I do not mind it at all. I had written a letter to 
 Lowell, in which I said, " I viight be able to give one 
 or two lectures," but I did not actually accept the 
 invitation, so that the slight to me is not so great as 
 it might have been. When I see you I will tell you 
 what I think are the circumstances which have led to 
 this collapse. 
 
 ' The first day you are in the neighbourhood I hope 
 you will look in. 
 
 ' Yours always, 
 
 'MoRELL Mackenzie.' 
 
 Before my seconJ visit to America I received 
 another graceful note from Abram Hewitt, who 
 maintained his friendly relations with Mackenzie 
 down to the last, and often spoke of him with 
 admiration. 
 
 Abram Hewitt writes : 
 
 ♦ New York : 
 
 • September 8, 1S93. 
 
 • Dear Mr. Haweis, — Your note reaches me just 
 as I am leaving town, but even if I had time I am not 
 well enough to call to see you to-day. Pray give my 
 kindest regards to Mrs. Haweis, and tell her how 
 much I regret that I am deprived of the pleasure of 
 extending a welcome to her and to you ; but on your 
 return to the city if you will kindly notify me of your 
 arrival, I hope I shall be well enough to manifest in 
 
New York 
 
 91 
 
 
 some way the pleasure which a renewal of our 
 acquaintance will give to me and my family. 
 
 ' Sincerely yours, 
 
 'Abram S. Hewitt.' 
 
 The wreck of the ' Oregon * liner on the coast of 
 New Jersey will long be remembered. It was one of 
 the finest Cunarders, and no lives were lost. Some 
 of the mail bags were, however, lost at first, but they 
 were afterwards, strangely enough, washed up on the 
 New Jersey coast. One of them contained a letter of 
 mine to Abram Hewitt, which was duly delivered — a 
 little late. 
 
 He wrote me the following interesting letter : 
 
 'House of Representatives, U.S., Washington, D.C. : 
 
 'May 3, 1886. 
 
 ' Dear Dr. Haweis,— The delay which has taken 
 place in replying to your letter of the 14th of March 
 is due to the fact that it went to the bottom with the 
 steamer " Oregon," and was picked up on the shores 
 of New Jersey, many miles below the scene of the 
 disaster. Although somewhat discoloured, it is quite 
 intelligible, and as it may interest you to possess such 
 a reminder of your visit to America, I send it back to 
 you as a curiosity. 
 
 * I am glad to learn that you and Mrs. Haweis got 
 safely home, and think well enough of America to 
 entertain the idea of coming back again. In regard 
 to the subject matter of your letter, you will remember 
 that when you were here the Cooper Institute was in 
 process of reconstruction. It will be quite finished by 
 next autumn, and I should be very glad to have you 
 give a lecture there, but you will have to elect between 
 
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 92 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 avarice and ambition. The lectures given by the 
 trustees to the pubh'c are free. Of course such a 
 lecture would yield you no profit. If, on the other 
 hand, you choose to hire the hall and pay for the ad- 
 vertising, you may charge such admission fee as you 
 may see fit. Sometimes a very large audience will 
 attend a lecture to which an admission is charged, 
 but it is somewhat of an experiment. On the other 
 hand, for a free lecture you will have an enormous 
 audience, and of the best kind. I must leave you to 
 choose between the two alternatives if you should 
 decide to come. 
 
 * My family are in Europe, at present in Venice. 
 They will be in London some time during the month 
 of June. If you should be at home, I will remind 
 them to let you know of their presence. They usually 
 stop at the Bristol Hotel, not far from your church. 
 
 * We are nearly in as much confusion here from 
 labour troubles as you are with your Irish difficulties. 
 I think they are largely due to the same cause, but 
 we have no Gladstone to offer any remedy, and per- 
 haps it may turn out that remedies are not needed so 
 much as submission to the will of Providence and the 
 order of progress. Our President has sent in a Labour 
 Message, which you may have seen, but which will 
 not instruct you much on a difficult problem, which 
 even Presidents do not always understand. 
 
 * I pray you to make my kindest regards to Mrs. 
 Haweis, and both of you to be assured that if you 
 come to America you will have a cordial welcome at 
 Ringwood, if you like the climate and the dairy. 
 
 ' Very sincerely yours, 
 
 'Abram S. Hewitt. 
 
 'The Rev. R. IL Haweis, 
 'London.' 
 
New York 
 
 93 
 
 ^T. 
 
 I have had letters delivered under odd conditions 
 — one from a balloon which escaped from Paris 
 during the siege; one which I posted myself whilst 
 in a free balloon up in the clouds and sailing 
 over Kent — it fell into some hedgerow or chimney 
 stack, or on some roof, but it was conscientiously 
 posted, and reached its destination not long after my 
 aerial voyage ; but I think on the whole the ship- 
 wrecked letter from the ' Oregon ' mail bags, returned 
 to me by Abram Hewitt, was perhaps the most phe- 
 nomenal of the lot. 
 
 XX 
 
 Charles Sumner is one of those men who live 
 for ideas. Such people seldom make successful politi- 
 cians, but they are of the stuff of John Stuart Mill, 
 who, though they can never retain place and parlia- 
 mentary pc'/er, invariably leave their mark on a de- 
 bate, and sacrifice themselves for causes which time 
 alone can insure the triumph of The Right Honour- 
 able James Stansfeld in England is a noble type of 
 this high class, but he is exceptional in being able to 
 claim many political triumphs. Charles Sumner has 
 always been a fighter of monopolies and jobs, and 
 monopolists and jobbers have revenged themselves 
 upon him by shutting him out of office when they 
 could. But somehow there is a vitality about in- 
 tegrity and pluck, and only last year (1895) Sumner 
 went to Washington and defeated a pretty little 
 Southern Pacific job at the instance, and to some ex- 
 tent under the aegis, of my good friend Mayor Sutro 
 of Francisco. 
 
 Sumner's name will for ever be associated in the 
 
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94 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
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 American politics of the nineteenth century with the 
 noble fight he made against the postal and telegraphic 
 monopoly scandals. He is a typical American 
 speaker, and extremely eloquent and effective — col- 
 lected, smart, deliberate, and full on occasion of 
 caustic humour, peculiarly his own. When he was 
 over here for the first time I took him to a great 
 public dinner, when he was unexpectedly called upon 
 to return thanks for visitors and foreigners present, 
 and I shall never forget the quiet composure with 
 which he at once rose and delivered, without a 
 moment's time for preparation, by far the most telling 
 speech of the evening. This struck me as the more 
 remarkable because most American dinner and break- 
 fast impromptus are carefully prepared, and not seldom 
 learnt off by rote. Emerson's were usually read 
 — cleverly, no doubt, the manuscript being concealed 
 behind his dessert plate, under cover of some vine 
 leaves, but delivered with quite impromptu grace. 
 
 I still remember Sumner's warm grip and moist 
 eye as he shook me by the hand in 1893 ^t Francisco 
 after my last sermon at the Golden Gate Hall. * If 
 we never meet again on earth, may we meet yonder, 
 friend,' said he, with a ring of genuine emotion which 
 deeply touched me. 
 
 Sumner was in England in 1883, and before leav- 
 ing he came to St. James's, Westmoreland Street, one 
 Sunday morning, but was unable to effect an entrance. 
 He seems to have stood jammed up in the crowd at 
 the door, and after several futile attempts to get 
 through, wrote the following message on his card, 
 which I only got after the service (I have his charac- 
 teristic card now) : 
 
New York 
 
 95 
 
 1 the 
 aphic 
 jrican 
 — col- 
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 upon 
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 'onder, 
 
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 ranee. 
 )wd at 
 
 to get 
 card, 
 
 harac- 
 
 ' 10-50 A.M. 
 
 • Porch of St. James's : 
 
 •June 17, 1883. 
 
 ' As I can obtain or retain neither seat nor stand- 
 ing room, I will retire in good order. I am sorry that 
 I could not hear you. I congratulate you on your 
 crowded congregations. We sail Thursday, xxiv. 
 Thanks for your courtesies. 
 
 'Charles Sumner. 
 
 •To Rev. Mr. Hawels.' 
 
 XXI 
 
 The Hon. John Bigelow, formerly American 
 minister at Paris and Berlin, is one of those men 
 whose high character and solid attainments would 
 mark him out in any country for the most responsible 
 offices in the State. But Bigelow is a fastidious and, 
 I should say, not an over-ambitious man. Those who 
 are most wanted to serve do not always most want to 
 serve. For a short time in later years he held the 
 treasurership of New York, but I am not aware that 
 he has since accepted any office. 
 
 I well remember his wife, the fascinating Mrs. 
 John Bigelow, since dead, making her way through a 
 crowded reception given to me in New York, and at 
 once inviting me and my wife to stay at West Point, 
 her beautiful summer residence on the Hudson River. 
 What a river ! with its huge steamers, and its large 
 fish, and its shores almost out of sight. 
 
 John Bigelow, seen in his home, is a fine type of 
 the quiet, courteous, and somewhat reserved Ameri- 
 can gentleman — with that rare simplicity and native 
 modesty which add such sweetness and charm to 
 the truly refined and eminent American. 
 
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96 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 As I walked about with him in his grounds h'sten- 
 ing to his talk on the trees and flowers, he stopped 
 occasionally to pass a cheerful remark to some negro 
 or half-caste engaged in not unwilling toil, and I 
 fancied it might have been thus that Washington 
 moved about, treating as equal, in spite of the pre- 
 valent slavery, every brother man, and great only in 
 his manhood. 
 
 ! I, 
 
 At Bigelow's house in New York I dined with 
 Conkling, the crack lawyer, talker, and I should say 
 characteristic wind-bag of the period. Two more 
 typical American contrasts than Bigelow and Cork- 
 ling could hardly be imagined. Conkling seemed to 
 me an insufferably vulgar, loud, clever person — utterly 
 conceited and self-centred. If there could have been 
 two Conklings in one, they would have been like double 
 stars and kept revolving incessantly round each other ! 
 
 Smartness and self-consciousness raised to their 
 highest power are not an agreeable combination, 
 especially when coupled with small regard for others. 
 Conkling talked through you and over you and all 
 round you, and quoted poetry whether you wanted to 
 hear it or not, and answered his own riddles and 
 asked questions which he never meant you to answer, 
 being of the nature of Cicero's rhetorical inquiries in 
 the Verrine or Catiline orations. I can recollect 
 nothing that Conkling said — only the abiding flavour 
 of his arrogance and conceit. I remember, too, being 
 much tickled by the smart way in which Mrs. John 
 Bigelow, with whom he bandied words, put him down 
 with her merry slapping repartee and sly rapier 
 thrusts, which somehow made their victims instantly 
 ridiculous without ever exciting anger, for they usually 
 
 J 
 
 oined in the laugh. 
 
w 
 
 New York 
 
 XXII 
 
 97 
 
 Mrs. Bigelovv. — No one who ever met Mrs. John 
 Bigelovv is likely to forget her. She retained the marks 
 of that brilliant beauty which dazzled the court circles 
 at Paris and Berlin more than thirty-five years ago, 
 where her unconventional sincerities alternately 
 alarmed and amused the old-world aristocracies, her 
 wit and her personal fascination always saving her .so 
 as by fire, though it is said the Emperor never forgave 
 her for sending her servants to the Imperial box at the 
 opera, which he had placed at her disposal. Still, no 
 one in any quarter of the globe ever got the better 
 of Mns. John Bigelow ; she remained to the day of her 
 death a sort of social enigma and wonder. 
 
 She delighted in extricating herself from almost 
 impossible situations ; and often when she had di*; cd 
 everyone into supposing her to be a ncglectible 
 quantity, she would suddenly turn the tables on the 
 company, and then laugh in the most genial and for- 
 giving manner at their discomfiture. 
 
 I am bound to say that her habits were extraor- 
 dinary. She came over to England on board the Duke 
 of Sutherland's yacht. She went to court, and nearly 
 slapped the Prince of Wales on the back. She 
 chaffed the German Prince Imperial, afterwards the 
 Emperor Frederick, and rallied him on the old Berlin 
 days when her beauty and singular bonhoiiiie and un- 
 conventionality had made the solemn Germans sit up 
 and stare with bewildered amusement at her ways and 
 her wit. * The Americans, my dear ! ' she used to 
 say plaintively with an odd little twinkle, 'horrid 
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 Travel and Talk 
 
 Americans — so vulgar! Now, I like the English, 
 they're so nice — nice dear girls ; and the men, all so 
 kind too. Oh, you know I'm partly English ; I'm 
 a Poultney, Poultney of Bath, you know, and my 
 son is Poultney Bigelow, great friend of the Prince 
 Imperial [now Emperor, which was quite true]. 
 
 * Now, my dear, what a lovely hat ! No, I never, 
 never saw such a feather. Oh ! and it suits you — you 
 look quite lovely. Do you know that sweet little poem ? 
 You remind me of it. It was written by — I don't 
 know, I can't recollect their names, so many poets 
 now. 
 
 ' Now come and take a little walk ; I want to tell 
 you, oh ! such a story, a whole history ! — Who's that 
 man — spiteful-looking man, isn't he? But of course 
 you know I take such fancies. I dare say he's verj/ 
 nice, quite nice. Now he's coming along ; now you 
 must introduce me ; ' and presently you would see 
 her absolutely absorbed in some total stranger, who 
 would listen quite bewildered to her rattling, brilliant 
 talk, but also quite fascinated. 
 
 One day she would dress quite shabbily, the 
 next in heavy velvet or satin. * I'm going to Syden- 
 ham, and I'm going third. I love the third class, 
 you see so much life. I like seeing and talking to 
 the people, they're so amusing, quite charming *« 
 England. The dear people ! I quite love them. I 
 can't bear to go back to New York. I'll come and 
 stay with you just for a day or two, or a week, I 
 don't mind ; not if it's inconvenient, of course. Oh, 
 you can turn me out if I'm in the way. I've got 
 such lots of friends ; everyone is so kind and obliging. 
 Now, dear Dr. Haweis, you'll take me to the sta- 
 
New York 
 
 90 
 
 tion ; there's your carriage at the door ; it won't be five 
 minutes out of your way ; not if it's inconvenient, of 
 course — there, now, I'm such a nuisance ! — I wouldn't 
 for the world — you kind man ! thai.k you ! I must have 
 my bag.' (No, I shall not forget that bag, a regular 
 carpet bag. She opened it everywhere ; string, poma- 
 tum, slippers, curios, handkerchiefs, I know not what 
 besides, fell out and were bundled in again.) So at last 
 she was off to the underground station in her shabby 
 gown, carpet bag and all. Of course we are late. 
 Mrs. Bigelow was always late ; she had no sense of 
 time, and forgot half her engagements, or pretended 
 to. The train was just starting. She clutches hold 
 of a porter — he shakes her off; then she seizes the 
 guard, who is just about to whistle. 
 
 * I must get in ! I must get in ! ' 
 
 * Too late. Get away from the door ! Can't you 
 hear ? ' The guard looked round sharp and angrily 
 at this shabby third-class panting female, but some- 
 thing in her eye fixed him. She is quite unflurried 
 now, and suddenly has the air of a duchess, a duchess 
 born in the purple, but casually in distress. In the 
 middle of the scrimmage she looks the guard — the 
 whistle at his mouth — from head to foot. Really she 
 is quite royal now. ' Well,' she says, * you arc an 
 unkind man ! ' I never saw anyone so knocked over. 
 I have had some experience of railway guards, but I 
 never saw a guard so struck all of a heap. The 
 whistle dropped from his lips and hung by a string ; 
 the man looked back at this royalty in disguise, and 
 looked again, as if he couldn't take his eyes off her. 
 She had a little offended pout on now like a belle out 
 of humour (she must have been near sixty), but she 
 said not another word, she had said enough. * I — I 
 
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 Travel and Talk 
 
 beg your pardon, mum— my lady ; ' and he lifted his 
 hand, delayed the trr.in, opened a third-class door. 
 Mrs. Bigelow stept in like a tragedy queen, gave him 
 a faint appreciative smile, I handed in her bag, and 
 the train started. 
 
 Whether she hypnotised people or arrested them 
 by her pure eccentricity, and then fascinated them 
 by an indescribable mixture of sympathy, many-sided 
 experience, knowledge of the world, artistic percep- 
 tion, and quick-wittedness, I could never make out. 
 
 \\ 
 
 Mrs. Bigelow was a person not to be analysed. 
 She got the entree wherever she meant to, from the 
 court to the kitchen, and was quite as much at home 
 with a queen as with a cook. There was no one to 
 whom she could not tell something about their own 
 business which they did not know before, no one whom 
 she could not advise pithily and often wisely. She 
 read off people, took their measure, and giggled or 
 cried with them. A mixed, stilted, prejudiced company 
 were like a pack of children in her hands in a quarter 
 of an hour. 
 
 * ii' 
 
 
 N- i 
 
 I remember her at a large luncheon party at 
 my house. She began by making herself almost 
 impossible. She spoke, or rather shouted, across the 
 table — attacking sometimes me, sometimes my wife. 
 Gradually conversation flagged — everyone was getting 
 wretched — she was so loud, sudden, irrelevant, v/hen 
 all at once she jerked out, with quite a wounded ex- 
 pression (dramatically irresistible) : * I dare say you 
 think me very odd ' (then pensively, almost to herself) : 
 " one of those horrid, vulgar Americans," you say to 
 yourself So they are ! ' But in another moment the 
 
New York 
 
 lOI 
 
 whole table was listening to an exquisitely funny 
 story of a vulgar Englishman who was mistaken for 
 an American, and had been lately making a fool of 
 himself in Paris. We were all convulsed, her mimicry 
 was so good. She had won. She had got the com- 
 pany at last at that particular angle where her incom- 
 parable gift as a graceful and witty raconteuse could 
 come into full play ; and from that moment everyone 
 seemed to unbend. 
 
 When we got into the garden after lunch, she 
 was already (this more than middle-aged woman 
 with only the traces of her dazzling complexion 
 and finely chiselled features left) the heroine of 
 the afternoon, and she did not wait to be chosen 
 — she just chose which of the company she liked 
 to talk to, and walked up and down the gravel 
 path, and it seemed at last as if everyone was just 
 waiting for his or her turn to walk and talk with 
 Mrs. John Bigelow. 
 
 S fc 
 
 :y at 
 
 most 
 
 ss the 
 
 wife. 
 
 tting 
 
 v/hen 
 
 d ex- 
 
 you 
 
 rselO : 
 ay to 
 lit the 
 
 She did one more daring thing that afternoon 
 — she planted herself after tea on the lawn in the 
 moFt comfortable chair. A few people were sitting 
 about. Suddenly she exclaimed, 'Come closer' — she 
 ordered them all about, and they obeyed like lambs. 
 Then she made me get some more chairs and collect 
 some more people; then in aloud voice, 'Now I'm 
 going to repeat a little poem — a quite beautiful poem. 
 I'm sure you will like it ; ' and almost before we had 
 grasped the situation, or even sat down, she was into 
 the middle of the first stanza. I can't recollect what 
 it was all about — I had never heard it before — but 
 soon everybody was listening, absorbed and delighted. 
 She was certainly an accomplished reciter, with the 
 
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 Travel and Talk 
 
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 pi 
 
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 ars celare artem, and above all the 'one touch of 
 nature which makes the whole world kin.' When 
 she had done, there was just a little dimness in many- 
 eyes. She jumped up suddenly, like one half scared, 
 looked at her watch, said she had missed two appoint- 
 ments, begged me out loud to give her everyone's 
 name and address, declared she had had such * a lovely 
 time ' — never met such lovely people, such dear kind 
 lovely people, and so nice of everyone to receive 
 her so kindly, and she only an American, a vulgar 
 American ; and would I have a hansom called — and 
 her bag, yes — ' thanks ! good-bye ! au revoir ! ' — and 
 she was gone like a flash. 
 
 When she was at Florence, I am told that she was 
 bent upon seeing * Ouida,' but that lady is averse to 
 being pestered with visitors. However, Mrs. Bigelow 
 of course got in — and sat down. Ouida — so runs 
 the tale — at last put in an appearance, and intimated 
 somewhat candidly that of all people who bored her, 
 Americans were the worst. * Well,' says Mrs. Bigelow, 
 * that I call downright mean and ungrateful of you, 
 when the Americans are about the only people who 
 buy your disagreeable, immoral books.' 
 
 Ouida seems to have been knocked over as com- 
 pletely as the railway guard. Mrs. Bigelow's faculty 
 of putting anyone in the wrong box when it suited 
 her was certainly phenomenal. 
 
 Genius, of course, is interesting, but it is (diplo- 
 matically) embarrassing ; and it has been rumoured 
 that the American Embassy in London would have 
 been open to John Bigelow had it not been for the 
 eccentricities of this most fascinating but somewhat 
 embarrassing lady. 
 
New York 103 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Mrs. • Columbia.'— It was sad to find how many 
 dear friends, alive in 1885, had passed away, when I 
 visited the States for a second time in 1893 and 
 again in 1895. Dean Gray, Asa Gray, Courtlandt 
 Palmer, Henry Ward Beecher, Walt Whitman, 
 Mrs. John Bigelow, Conkling, and soon afterwards 
 Phillips Brooks and Oliver Wendell Holmes, Principal 
 and Mrs. Barnard, Miss Wolff — all gone. 
 
 In the following letter from the Hon. John Bigelow 
 this rather extraordinary mortality is alluded to : 
 
 ' " The Squirrels," Highland Falls, N.Y. : 
 
 ' July 8, 1893. 
 
 ' Rev. and dear Sir, — I was pleased to learn 
 by your favour of — without date — which reached me 
 a few days ago, that you and Madam Haweis medi- 
 tated another visit to the " States." Though you will 
 miss some, you will find many here ready to welcome 
 you. I hope you will advise us of your return to New 
 York after your visit to Chicago, where I possibly 
 may meet you early in October. 
 
 * We are proposing to spend August and September 
 at St. Andrews in New Brunswick, and under the pro- 
 tection of her Imperial Majesty your Queen. 
 
 ' Yours very truly, 
 
 'John Bigelow.' 
 
 Among the numerous kind attentions I was 
 favoured with and somewhat embarrassed by was the 
 assiduous hospitality of another singular lady, also 
 since dead. I allude to Mrs. Barnard, the wife of 
 the venerable Principal of Columbia College, a well- 
 
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 104 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 known and admirably appointed educational institu- 
 tion in New York. 
 
 This good lady was bent upon our staying at 
 the college, and hunted us from house to house 
 until we took up our abode with her ; and I confess 
 that I found her rather amusing at first, and I am sure 
 she meant most kindly. She was a great talker, and 
 when she got on the war between North and South, 
 she being at the time down South, her stories were 
 very stirring and graphic. But there was an incon- 
 ceivable fidgetiness about her, and an incapacity to 
 let people alone, or even listen to anything they 
 said in answer to her questions, which poured out as 
 from a quick-firing gun, that became at last intoler- 
 able — she got on our nerves. Then her arrange- 
 ments were of such a complicated and at the same 
 time urgent nature that no one in the house knew 
 from moment to moment what they might or might 
 not be expected to do. You had to be down to break- 
 fast to the minutCj or a message came up that you 
 were not to hurry — only everyone was waiting. If you 
 took tea, why did not you take coffee — did you not like 
 coffee ? or vice versa. You must take certain things 
 in the right order, or you must not take something 
 without taking it before or after taking something 
 else. Then after breakfast at ten o'clock you must be 
 ready to go out, to inspect this, that, or the other. The 
 Principal wanted you to go over the college. Non- 
 sense ! the Principal always wanted people to go over 
 the college, there was nothing to see, you could do it 
 any time ; besides, you had to go with her at once some- 
 where else. But you had an engagement at twelve. 
 What was the use of that when you had to be some- 
 where else ? You could not be everywhere. She was 
 
Nkw York 
 
 105 
 
 going to introduce you to some friends of hers ; and 
 then you had to be back to lunch at a quarter past 
 one, because at half-past two you were due, &c. &c. 
 
 Worn out in the middle of the day, my wife had 
 retired for a little rest, but a sharp knock at the door 
 roused her. She must get up at once ; some one down 
 stairs who had read 'Chaucer for Children' and 'The 
 Art of Beauty' had called to see her. Then, at 
 half-past three, mind, there was a reception — a large 
 reception — all the clever people in New York were 
 coming. Professor this, and Dr. that, and Madame 
 some one else, and Conkling, and Mrs. — — , the 
 authoress, you know ; and at last came dinner, usually 
 tete-a-tete with Mrs. and Dr. Barnard, who was a very 
 agreeable and scholarly man of cultivated tastes 
 and habits, but who being very deaf could only com- 
 municate through a trumpet attached to a hearing tube, 
 which reached a good way and could be taken up by 
 anyone who wished to speak to him. We conversed 
 in this way without difficulty, but seldom got far 
 before Mrs. Barnard, impatient at the exclusion, seized 
 the tube through which her husband was listening or 
 speaking, and laying it down on the table, broke 
 up the conversation. 
 
 One day — the second or third, I think — my wife 
 confided to me that she could bear it no longer. 
 It was seven o'clock in the morning. I descended 
 stealthily before the breakfast hour, and went out and 
 made my way down the street to my good friend Dr. 
 Guilbert and his amiable stepdaughters, the Misses 
 Storm. They seemed to understand the situation ; 
 it was a case of being saved from one's friends. After 
 
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 Travel and Talk 
 
 breakfast I intimated that our engagements compelled 
 us to take up our abode elsewhere, and with profuse 
 thanks on our side, and reproaches and even threats 
 on the side of our warmhearted hostess, we left 
 the too oppressively hospitable precincts of Columbia 
 College with a hearty hand-shake from the dear old 
 Principal, and embraces — positively embraces — from 
 the excellent Mrs. Columbia as we always afterwards 
 called her — never, never to return ! 
 
 Kindly souls ! — both are in their graves — and they 
 meant to do us honour — only our nerves were weak ! 
 
 P 
 
 No 1 I cannot leave out my first experiences — since 
 renewed happily in 1893 — of the American schoolgirl 
 and girl graduate of ' sweet seventeen.' 
 
 ha 
 
 XXIV 
 
 * Ogontz ' is the name of a palatial establish- 
 ment, situated in a manorial-like park, not far from 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 It is an establishment for young ladies, very select 
 young ladies, who can afford to pay two or three 
 hundred a year in exchange for the benefits of such a 
 cultured course of refined teaching as the genius of 
 the lady principal, Miss Bennett, has devised for the 
 future mothers of the great American people. 
 
 Miss Bennett herself is a stately but withal most 
 genial and handsome person, * about the same age as 
 other people,' as the lady said who was asked her 
 age by the Government officer for the census. 
 
 She has travelled, read, thought, and, above all, 
 observed. She is eloquent in class, affable at table, 
 delightful as hostess, and she governs, like all real 
 
New York 
 
 107 
 
 governors, more by silent influence than by words or 
 rules. All the girls, from the youngest, aged about 
 twelve, to the eldest, just passing out of her 'teens,' 
 know exactly what she wants and what she means. 
 They know they must not be late, nor slovenly, nor 
 inattentive, nor boisterous, though a merrier and 
 less constrained set of young ladies I never encoun- 
 tered : laughter is not checked, a run is not reproved, 
 even out of the gymnasium. They lived, I thought, 
 almost needlessly surrounded by home luxuries ; some 
 even had their carriages and horses, and generally any- 
 thing they could afford. As in most American esta- 
 blishments, the girls are largely self-governing. The 
 upper class provides the standard for demeanour, st}'le 
 and tone. The monitors and blue-ribbon girls virtually 
 govern. The ' Blue-ribbonites ' can do practically what 
 they please, and have even a sort of discretion with 
 regard to personal liberty about attending classes and 
 taking outdoor exercise alone ; but the lovely park, 
 formerly the property of a rich merchant, who named 
 it ' Ogontz ' after a great Indian chief friendly to him, 
 is amply sufficient for all such purposes, and I did 
 not gather that the girls ever cared much to stray 
 beyond its happy precincts. 
 
 Into this terrestrial paradise I entered for about a 
 week. I was invited by Miss Bennett, who had fre- 
 quently attended my church in her summer trips 
 to England, to give three evening lectures in the 
 school theatre to her young ladies. Several out- 
 siders, professors, clergy, and others from Phila- 
 delphia, were also invited. 
 
 Handsome guest rooms were placed at the disposal 
 of myself and my wife, whose book * Chaucer for 
 
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 ■fit 
 
 1 08 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Children ' was much used at Ogontz and other 
 American colleges. 
 
 Whether or not there were extra half holidays 
 during my stay at Ogontz, I cannot tell ; but I never 
 descended into the reception rooms or passages without 
 finding young ladies at leisure to do the honours, and 
 make time pass quickly. I was much struck with the 
 absolute difference between the American and the 
 English girl's view of the to Trpsirov, or the fitting 
 and the unfit. The Ogontz girls invited me into 
 their class rooms, practising rooms, and even their 
 dormitories — prettily fitted up, and used for sitting 
 rooms during the day. 
 
 Here you saw the individual taste and feeling of 
 the young ladies. Some had a piano, some a banjo, a 
 guitar, a violin. Pretty Japanese screens hid the bed, 
 and decorative devices the wash-hand stand ; the toilet 
 tables had just as much on them as was required to 
 look neat and artistic by day ; the fireplace was 
 decked with flowers or forest leaves ; the mantelpiece 
 would contain those china or silver baubles, old 
 Christmas cards, relics with ribbons, Dresden poodles, 
 gold figured Munich glass, even a stray doll or wax 
 Cupid, and such-like Christmas-tree survivals of the 
 nursery, still dear to the heart of budding womanhood. 
 Above were photographs — seldom a man's unless 
 brother or father, but hosts of girls, mothers, sisters, 
 aunts, and a few of those special friends whose 
 ' eternal friendships ' are apt at a certain age to be 
 exchanged for similar ones equally passionate while 
 they last, and equally ephemeral 1 
 
 Ah ! what havoc will marriage and the ' Vandal 
 years' between sixteen and twenty-five make in a 
 sirl's female attachments I 
 
Nkw York 
 
 109 
 
 The dormitories occupied a long wing of the 
 great house, and opened one out of the other, each 
 room being owned by two — seldom, I think, more- 
 girls. 
 
 Still some of the rooms were more spacious than 
 others, and here several girls would congregate, and 
 I would read and talk to them. But I was put on 
 my mettle, for they knew too much. I had my 
 dates corrected and my geography set to rights ; and 
 in chemistry I confess they were far ahead of mc, 
 though in range of literature I scored a few points, 
 and I was a little surprised at their small acquaintance 
 with leading American authors like Emerson, Oliver 
 Wendell Holmes, and even Howells. They knew more 
 of George Eliot and Thackeray, and less of Tennyson, 
 than I should have expected. The American girl does 
 not read much poetry, and not half as much theology 
 and goody-goody books as our English girls ; but 
 then she is very wide awake about Rome, Florence, 
 and globe-trotting generally, and eager to know 
 about everything outside her own country, especially 
 all English manners and customs, and all about the 
 Royal Family. 
 
 Dear me ! and in such a republican country to 
 find them all so anxious to know what our beloved 
 Queen does, and so excited to learn that she drives 
 about in a Bath chair drawn by a donkey, and 
 reads Marie Corelli. The girls had quite a Marie 
 Corelli fit after that. And then the Princess of 
 Wales ! — how the royal girls at Sandringham were 
 brought up, and why they dressed so plainly, and 
 whether they played lawn tennis and could skate. 
 
 Ah ! what a poor companion I was for these quick 
 mercurial American maidens, such an odd mixture of 
 
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 Travel and Talk 
 
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 k 
 
 simplicity and advanced experience ; for American 
 girls know most things, • you bet ! ' and half of them 
 only just out of the nursery, in some ways so far down 
 the valley of life, in others so fresh and ingenuous. 
 
 Well, we walked about the park in little groups 
 of threes and fours underneath the yellowing trees 
 and beside the autumnal hoar frost on the brown 
 ferns ; and when I had cudgelled my brains about the 
 Queen, told them how she looked when I kissed her 
 hand ; and the Duke of Edinburgh, and what he said 
 at Marlborough House when he lent me his fiddles for 
 my Royal Institution lecture ; and the Princess Louise, 
 Marchioness of Lome, and what she said and how she 
 received me when I had failed to bring Wagner to 
 Lord Houghton's one night, &c. &c. Of course I did 
 my best to do this sort of * Court Circular ' chat, which 
 is not quite in my line. Had I been Mark Twain or 
 Artemus Ward, I should have had no difficulty in 
 inventing long conversations between myself and the 
 Prince of Wales, anecdotes of my singular influence 
 with her Majesty, of the Prime Minister's devotion 
 to me, and my confidential relations with the Lord 
 Mayor ; but although I sorely wished to please my 
 eager listeners, the longer I went on, the thinner grew 
 the narrative ; in good sooth 'twas very poor gossip, 
 and it too soon became painfully apparent that I knew 
 very little personally of the Royal Family, and had 
 had next to nothing to do with any of them. At 
 which point I artfully turned the conversation upon 
 Rome. I fancied I knew something about Rome. I 
 had been there many times. I had lectured there 
 twice on Garibaldi and Mazzini (worse luck ! they 
 cared not a jot for Garibaldi or Mazzini), I had worked 
 up the catacombs, the galleries, the churches, the — no 
 
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Nkw Yokk 
 
 1 1 1 
 
 matter what. Will it be believed that I had not gone 
 far before I made a slip about a Bronzino which I said 
 was in the Corsini when it happened to be in the 
 Borghese, or vice versa ? I was caught out instantly. 
 The girls had been to Rome and got up the 
 galleries with Murray. My coup dc grdce came 
 when one of them inquired whether I had seen the 
 Roman bath in the Strand. It was an awful temi)tation, 
 but I felt I could not lie, and after a brief but, I am 
 glad to say, a decisive struggle, I frankly admitted 
 that I had not so much as heard that there was a 
 Roman bath in the Strand ! On re-entering, a guide 
 book was, of course, produced, and a description of the 
 fine specimen of Ncronian brickwork still to be seen 
 in the Strand, on what was formerly a portion of the 
 Earl of Essex's house, was read out for my instruc- 
 tion. I was by this time quite chapfallen, and I think 
 we conversed no more that day, as writes Abclard or 
 Heloise or some such pathetic personage. 
 
 1 ! 
 
 I believe these kind girls, who seemed to entertain 
 an opinion of me far above my deserts, thought I 
 was shamming to please them and draw them out, 
 and that I only pretended not to know this or that, 
 but really knew all about it ; but, alas ! I didn't. 
 
 I have often noticed in this world that if you get 
 any sort of reputation in one line, people are apt 
 to give you credit for it in some other. When I 
 was a young curate in Bethnal Green, I was supposed 
 to direct a penny bank, and on certain nights, with 
 the assistance of two friendly coadjutors, the green- 
 grocer and the tax collector, both my devoted parish- 
 ioners, I appeared to be casting up the accounts. My 
 results were so frequently at variance with the others, 
 
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112 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
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 ,i , 
 
 which usually tallied, that at last I admitted, what is 
 perfectly true, that I was a very poor accountant ; but 
 nothing could persuade these dear people that this 
 was the simple truth — why ! had I not drawn the 
 church full ? My additions seemed wrong, no doubt, 
 but they merely thought this serving of tables was too 
 far beneath my attention, and that I would not take 
 sufficient trouble, and at last they always did it for 
 me, accepting my earnest assurances that I could not 
 possibly do it up correctly in the time with a respectful 
 but incredulous smile. 
 
 XXV 
 
 In the School Theatre.— A truce to digres- 
 sion. Ogontz is lighted up ; the girls are coming out 
 into the passages in their white muslins and pretty 
 ribbons and flowers — 'tis half-past-six — they are com- 
 ing into the dining saloon. I shall not be there. I 
 shall be upstairs in my cosily furni.^hcd sitting-room 
 meditating, over a cup of tea and a poached egg, my 
 lecture on the * Rationale of Music,' which I am to 
 deliver in the theatre at eight o'clock. 
 
 The hour strikes. I enter from behind some 
 ornamental canvas trees on one side, and a conven- 
 tional cottage facade with an open flap window. 
 (For stage elopements ? — impossible ! 'Tis a well- 
 regulated seminary — and then we are told that 
 American girls are not romantic !) 
 
 I am saluted with well-bred applause. The foot- 
 lights leap up full. I advance and survey my flower 
 garden of young, fresh, eager listeners, who settle 
 themselves smiling with expectancy, with a touch 
 of critical discernment about it such as becomes an 
 
New York 
 
 "3 
 
 advanced and fastidious assembly, accustomed to 
 nothing but the best. 
 
 Never did I have a more genial and appreciative 
 audience, and I am bound to say the applause was 
 unstinted, and at the close as unrestrained and tumul- 
 tuous as was consistent with the elegant discipline of 
 'Ogontz' — a name which to all Philadelphian initiates 
 suggests the quintessence of character and culture. 
 
 The school kept early hours, and even the subse- 
 quent dissipation in honour of the visitors, consisting 
 of tea and light refreshments, was not prolonged past 
 eleven. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 Farewell, Ogontz. — On my last evening my 
 nerves were rudely tried. It was on this wise. 
 
 At the close of my lecture, amidst a very flattering 
 display of enthusiasm (for I was now thoroughly at 
 home with my audience and had the egotistical satis- 
 faction of feeling that, although unacquainted with 
 the Roman bath in the Strand, I was considered 
 an authority on Richard Wagner), just as I was about 
 to retire from the stage, amidst the 'applaudissements 
 frenetiques,' I remarked an unwonted stir — the whole 
 room seemed about to rise, whilst two of the tallest 
 and strongest girls advanced in front of the stage, 
 bearing a huge basket of towering flowers, orchids and 
 roses and lilies, and ferns and dazzling autumnal 
 foliage. This expensive but perishable trophy was 
 with some difficulty heaved up to me over the foot- 
 lights, and, feeling rather like an inexperienced porter 
 at a railway station, I wrestled with it for an anxious 
 moment, and finally landed it with a stagger on the 
 stage. The ladies had already retired, blushing. I 
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114 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 1 ■ 
 
 
 < . 
 
 stood looking I dare say very pleased and foolish by 
 the side of my embarrassing and pyramidal green- 
 house assortment. In a voice * hoarse with emotion ' I 
 believe I faltered out something about the * most 
 affecting moment in my life/ and I then gave the 
 audience to understand that I intended firmly but 
 hastily to retire before my feelings completely over- 
 came me. 
 
 Next morn, in the grey dawn, a few girls only 
 like belated angels hovering dimly about the passages, 
 I left * Ogontz.' 'Twas better so. I am told that 
 tears were shed ; my own thoughts, like those of the 
 man when he looked on * the meanest flower that 
 blows,' were * too deep for tears ; ' naturally, as all the 
 flowers in my basket were anything but mean^ and 
 really as expensive as money could buy. What was 
 I to do with them .'* I could not take them with me — 
 I was going straight to New York. I unwound the 
 soft moss-green ribbon that was wrapt round their 
 stems. I have it now. On my way out I cast a farewell 
 glance at the trophy, deposited on the entrance hall 
 table, and thereby hangs a talc. 
 
 Several weeks after leaving Philadelphia, I had a 
 letter from Miss Bennett, the charming lady principal. 
 
 She said ' I was ' — well, no matter — ' that the girls ' 
 
 —pshaiv ! Anyhow it amounted to this — that the 
 flowers had been on the hall table ever since, that 
 they were naturally withered and smelt abominably, 
 but that every time she had proposed to remove them 
 there had been such an outcry in the school that she 
 allowed them to remain. Ye stars and stripes ! And 
 then they say that American girls have no sentiment ! 
 
 A year afterwards a detachment of Ogontz girls 
 
New York 
 
 "5 
 
 came over to England, as they arc often wont to do, 
 with a travelling governess. They came and took 
 afternoon tea with us at Queen's House, Chelsea. I 
 showed them the moss-green ribbon. They smiled — 
 I sighed — and we parted ! 
 
 But again I must protest that this is not an auto- 
 biography, merely holiday * talk.' I pass on. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 Cornell. — Yes! I arrive at Cornell. I have 
 been appointed select University preacher there. 
 
 Cornell University is exquisitely situated on high 
 land overlooking the lovely lake of Cayuga. It 
 boasts of Professor Corson, a great friend of Miss 
 Bennett, and a great favourite at Ogontz (where he 
 has delivered several professorial lectures on English 
 literature). Young men and girls are received at Cornell 
 to a joint education. They have class rooms, sitting 
 rooms, and a dining room in common. There are no 
 restrictions on their terms of association ; they can 
 walk and talk and sing together, and sit where they 
 like in hall or class ; only — only the sword of Damocles 
 is over them all, and they know it : a breath of 
 suspicion, a sign of real irregularity, and off they are 
 packed without explanation, and without delay, and 
 there is no appeal. This seems quite a sufficient 
 check, and within rather wide bounds there is extra- 
 ordinary liberty, which is hardly ever abused — the 
 students have been known to offer flowers and even 
 organise a serenade to their favourites with impunity. 
 In fact the boys and girls, ranging from sixteen to 
 twenty-four, are all treated like grown and responsible 
 
 I 2 
 
n6 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 sv i- it! 
 
 men and women, and they are expected from the first 
 to act up to this sober and discreet estimate. 
 
 Cornell University, like Stanford and Leland in 
 California, and Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, is one of 
 those splendid private benefactions to the nation for 
 which America has become famous. The endowment 
 is so large that the heads are independent of the 
 college fees, and can afford to treat quite independently 
 with the students. At Cornell and Vassar (unlike 
 Ogontz) the Cornell students are not generally rich ; 
 they have come for serious study to fit themselves 
 for an educational or professional life ; but to this 
 there are, of course, many exceptions. 
 
 At Cornell University there is perfect freedom of 
 thought. There are no religious tests. No one need 
 believe anything ; no one need go to church. Indi- 
 viduals may be at war with current religion in its 
 many forms ; but as all forms are tolerated, it would be 
 rather difficult for any one member to be in active 
 opposition to all, nor would it much matter if he were 
 — except to himself The effect of this laxity and 
 apparent official indifference to orthodoxy is just the 
 reverse of what might naturally have been anticipated. 
 There is a certain amount of religious indifference, 
 no doubt — there is that everywhere — but there is little 
 religious bitterness, for as every sect has its turn in the 
 University pulpit, no one has a right to complain. 
 The Episcopal Church is generally the most fashion- 
 able in the towns, and stands highest socially ; but there 
 is real religious equality, and as the Episcopal Church 
 is not allowed to domineer in the name of the State or 
 an assumed orthodoxy, there is far more real fraternity 
 if not much more co-operation amongst the various 
 
Ii I 
 
 New York 
 
 117 
 
 ministers in America than there ever can be in England 
 until the Church is disestablished, the good and evil 
 of which this is not the place to discuss. My own 
 personal feeling in the matter I have more often ex- 
 pressed than defended, and it is this : that could the 
 Episcopal Church in England become national in fact 
 as it is in name, could it really represent by its power 
 of restatement, as well as by its breadth, the complex 
 religious beliefs, religious aspirations, and progressive 
 thought of the age ; then the occupation of Dissent 
 would be gone, since every form of dissent is merely 
 a witness to some truth neglected or forgotten by the 
 National Church, or the breaking forth of spontaneous 
 piety which finds no established or recognised channel 
 in which to flow. 
 
 The Cornell pulpit is prepared to witness to every 
 kind of truth which by any stretch of liberality can be 
 associated with Christianity, and it is doubtful whether 
 any of the doctrinal cults of the day, including Posi- 
 tivism, Theosophy, Spiritualism, Christian Science, not 
 to speak of Unitarianism and Roman Catholicism, 
 would be excluded from the Cornell pulpit, providing 
 the * ism ' could be hitched on to some text and uttered 
 by some one in the habit of writing ' Rev. ' before his 
 name ; even as to * Rev.,' many sects have dropped 
 the title, and Henry Ward Bcecher openly repu- 
 diated it. 
 
 Amongst its preachers, the Cornell University has 
 included Lyman Abbott, Heber Newton, Phillips 
 Brooks, Dr. Huntington, Bishop Potter, Dr. Momerie, 
 and myself. Cornell did not even draw the line at the 
 Roman Catholic bishop, but the bishop drew the line 
 at Cornell. 
 
 Under all these circumstances I considered that 
 
 •,(• 
 
.1 
 
 3 
 
 Ii8 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 a cosmopolitan sermon in the morning, in which I 
 would cause a panorama of the world's religions to 
 pass before the congregation, taking good care to 
 emphasise the unities underlying them all and 
 minimise the differences, might be a profitable sub- 
 ject of meditation ; and in the afternoon I selected 
 the * Rationale of Prayer,' a sermon which I have 
 found to be generally helpful, and which has been 
 amply reported and circulated throughout America 
 East and West as well as all over the Australasian 
 colonies. 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Cornell Chapel. — On one Sunday late in 
 November 1885, I looked out of my University 
 rooms towards the little chapel, far too small for the 
 congregations that day. 
 
 The town lay far below and was reached by 
 trams and carriages uphill, for the noble pile of widely 
 disposed buildings, interspersed with lawns and here 
 and there embowered in foliage, overlooks from a 
 height the clear waters of the beautiful Cayuga lake. 
 
 A winding procession of pedestrians came up the 
 hill, and the students had already turned out and 
 taken possession of their seats long before the service 
 began. 
 
 When I arrived there was not standing room any- 
 where, and I was with difficulty got into a dark sort 
 of cupboard, where I had to robe ; for although told I 
 might officiate in my frock coat if I pleased, my pro- 
 fessional instincts were in favour of at least wearing 
 my M.A. gown and my Cambridge M.A. hood. I stood 
 
New York 
 
 119 
 
 at a sort of raised reading desk, and after giving out a 
 hymn I recited a collect or two, then another hymn, 
 and then the sermon. 
 
 At three o'clock I preached again, but this time 
 vehicles of all sorts made their way up from the town, 
 and swarms of pedestrians arrived long before service, 
 only to find the chapel (which I suppose did not 
 hold more than 400) already crowded. The morning 
 sermon was well reported ; and to show the smartness 
 of the American operations the MS. from shorthand 
 notes was handed to me in the afternoon, and a 
 version wired all over America, so that in Boston, 
 New York, Chicago and Philadelphia, reports of it 
 appeared in the Monday morning papers. 
 
 6! 
 
 I was much amused to receive in the evening a 
 visit from a professor of elocution, who asked me to 
 favour him with the name and address of the gentle- 
 man who taught mc elocution. I assured him that I 
 had never received a lesson in elocution in my life, 
 that I knew nothing about the art, and that I had 
 often been told that my own method of speaking, 
 whatever it is, was most imperfect. 
 
 The Professor shook his head incredulously, and 
 put up his note book sadly ; he came evidently 
 hoping to detect the secret of drawing large con- 
 gregations ; whatever it was, it could doubtless be 
 imparted, and would be useful to his pupils, and 
 probably turned on some trick of voice production 
 or oratorical device which could be learned. I assured 
 him I was innocent of all such arts, that I was 
 incapable of committing much to memory, that I 
 prepared my thoughts as carefully as I could, but 
 seldom any set phrases. * Take care of the thoughts, 
 
 I 
 
 ^/, 
 
120 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 If 
 
 1*1 
 
 1: 
 
 and the words will take care of themselves,' was my 
 motto ; and as to poses or dramatic action, I left all 
 that to take care of itself, and never thought twice 
 about it — certainly not when preaching. 
 
 The Professor seemed much disappointed. 
 * Couldn't I give any hints ? ' I did try, but I was so 
 poor an analyst of my own methods that he soon rose 
 and took his departure, thinkifJg me a wily and deep 
 person, who would not be drawn. The rooted belief 
 that every success is due to some trick or system that 
 can be taught is as pathetic and quite as common as 
 the gambler's notion that there is a fixed and certain 
 way to win at games of chance, or a royal road to 
 fortune. Success has its laws, no doubt, and there is 
 very little chance about it — work, capacity, oppor- 
 tunity, arc all ingrcdiciiLs ; but there is ever some- 
 thing like the pinch of metal that the cunning bell- 
 founder throws into his cauldron, just at the last — he 
 hardly knows why — something which cannot be 
 analysed, and upon that something turns the whole 
 difference between success and failure. 
 
 I remember a good clergyman, one of those 
 excellent conscientious plodders whom Phillips Brooks 
 called 'moth-eaten old angels,' wrote to me — under- 
 standing my Sunday collections were large — and 
 begged to know the exact form of words I used every 
 Sunday to extract these sums. His disappointment 
 was great on receiving the exact formula, from which 
 I never deviate : T/ie usual collection at the close of the 
 service. 
 
 But as this is not a general clerical autobiography, 
 I will here insert my Cornell University sermon ' On 
 the Religious Consciousness' (1885), to serve as a 
 sort of pendant to my Chicago speech * On the 
 
New York 
 
 121 
 
 Influences of Music ' at the Parliament of Religions 
 (1893), both of which the reader may skip if he 
 pleases, and pass on. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Religious Consciousness. A Sermon preached nv 
 THE Rev. H. R. Haweis, M.A., before the Cor- 
 nell University [on the Dean Sage Foundation]. 
 
 When I was invited by your late excellent President, 
 Dr. White, to address you, some months ago, I said 
 I would speak to you upon the unity and solidarity 
 of the religious consciousness in man. 
 
 Need I take a text ? Well, a text won't make a 
 sermon without the spirit of the Bible, and if you 
 have that you can get on without chapter and verse. 
 The religious consciousness breathes with the Bible 
 spirit. The soul's life permeates the Bible from be- 
 ginning to end. Religion saturates human history 
 because it is involved in the constitution of human 
 nature. This is to me the most restful and faith- 
 compelling of all thoughts. I look for rest in my 
 religion. Some of us make our religion a mere battle- 
 field ; opposing sects bite and devour one another. But 
 I hear the voice of Jesus across the ages : He says, 
 'Come unto Me, and I will give you rest' I fall back 
 again and again upon the spiritual elements which 
 do not change : God, the inevitable recurrency, com- 
 munion with Him, the Divine soul-hunger. Here I 
 find a unity and solidarity of religious consciousness. 
 
 l/mij/ implies a similarity of ideas. For instance, 
 you find among savage tribes in remote ages the 
 custom of appointing delegates or representatives. 
 
 t 
 
 
 ^/ 
 
 " I, 
 
 ■i<"'». 
 
122 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 '■'tV I 
 
 W 
 
 i '»i 
 
 and you find in Washington or at London of to- 
 day M.C.'s or M.P.'s sitting as representatives of the 
 people. There is the unity of representative govern- 
 ment. 
 
 So/i'ifan'/jn.mpMes a certain continuity and identity 
 of purpose and effect. So when I dig up in England 
 a coin of Edward III., who reigned 500 years ago, 
 and the coin has the king's head on it, and I find 
 that it is still legal tender, or can be exchanged for 
 legal tender, in Victoria's reign, I say there is the 
 solidarity of the currency. So throughout the religions 
 of the world I find similarity of ideas, identity of 
 purpose, unity and solidarity of the religious conscious- 
 ness. God has never left Himself without a witness. 
 Religion did not begin 1,900 years ago. It has always 
 been. God, the Oversoul, is superincumbent upon 
 man's soul, as the atmosphere presses at all points 
 upon the surface of the earth. The Divine fact and 
 the human response, these two twin stars, ever revolve 
 round each other ; they constitute the unity and 
 solidarity of the religious consciousness. You may 
 comedown anywhere within 5,000 years in the history 
 of man, and you will find those ideas cropping up. 
 You may go to India, Egypt, or China, or Greece, or 
 Rome, and you will find them ; ay, and you may 
 come on individuals thrown together by chance any- 
 where to-day, and you will strike the same funda- 
 mental notes, the sweetest and purest in the low, 
 sad music of humanity — God and our communion 
 with Him. 
 
 The other day a friend of mine was travelling in 
 the desert on his way to the Pyramids. He looked 
 down upon the poor Arab donkey driver beside him, 
 
 IK 
 
Ni:w York 
 
 1^3 
 
 and the feeling came over him, 'This patient, toiling 
 man, a human being like myself, yet so different from 
 me I I feel kindly toward him, and there is something 
 in his face that draws me to him, something in his 
 lowly condition and serenity that moves me.' So my 
 friend touches him on the shoulder. Me could not 
 speak much English, and my friend did not under- 
 stand much Arabic, but he wanted to communicate 
 with him. And the heart has a language of its own, 
 and the lips are sometimes but stammering utterers. 
 As Longfellow says, there are thoughts which 
 
 ' Words are powerless to express, 
 And leave them still unsaid, in part, 
 Or say them in too great excess.' 
 
 So my friend touched the Arab and said : * You be- 
 lieve — you believe Allah }' The man looked round, 
 astonished : he understood, and said, * Yes ; me be- 
 lieve Allah.' * y believe Allah,' said my friend. Pre- 
 sently he touched him again, and pointed to the clear 
 skies above them, and said, ' You pray Allah .'' ' 
 The man said, nodding his head delightedly, * Yes : 
 pray Allah.' Said my friend, * /, too, pray to Allah.' 
 They could not get on very fast because they did not 
 understand one another's language. But he touched 
 him the third time on the shoulder, and said, ' You 
 love Allah — love Allah ? ' and the man, now with 
 much gesticulation, assented, * Yes, yes ! ' for he was 
 in sympathy with my friend, and caught his mean- 
 ing : ' Yes, me love Allah.' Then my friend stretched 
 his hand out and grasped the swarthy Arab's in 
 his grip, and said : 'You, I, brothers ; you, I, believe 
 — pray — love Allah I ' The man nodded, and his 
 face grew radiant, and both drove on in silence. 
 
 lb 
 
 ^'. 
 
124 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Now, .it the end of that journey, that poor Arab, 
 without a word, took all the backsheesh money that 
 had been given him, and pushed it back into my 
 friend's hands. He would take no backsheesh from a 
 man who loved Allah. That is a modern illustration 
 of the unity and solidarity of the religious conscious- 
 ness. God writes His name not once on stone tables, 
 but in all ages and climes upon the fleshy tablets of 
 all human hearts. 
 
 Nor was this teaching ever more needed than at 
 the present day. Why ? Because modern science 
 has attacked the object of religious consciousness, 
 saying that we do not require mind governing matter, 
 that we can explain the phenomena of creation with- 
 out any appeal to the Oversoul or self-conscious, 
 governing Mind. That Jias been the tendency of 
 modern science. It is no longer quite so much its 
 tendency. The word agnosticism is gradually be- 
 coming fashionable, in lieu of the word atheis^ "a, or 
 negation. Science now hardly says out lou( ith 
 the fool, * There is no God, there is no object oi reli- 
 gious consciousness ; ' but science now says, ' We 
 don't know.' Amid the rush and splendour of new 
 scientific discoveries we lived about ten or fifteen 
 years ago in the reign of raw atheism before the flaw 
 in the * no God ' argument began to be seen. That 
 flaw was revealed to me when I heard Professor 
 Tyndall say that *we must fundamentally change 
 our conception of matter before we could get out of it 
 the promise and potency of all life.' 
 
 Well, if you can make up the universe without 
 God, do so, by all means. Let us try. Says Philo- 
 
New York 
 
 1-5 
 
 sophcr No. I : * Give mc matter, and I will produce 
 the world as we know it, without God.' Says Philo- 
 sopher No. 2 : ' 1 don't want matter. I know of 
 nothing but force.' * Hut,' objects Philosopher No. 3, 
 * force must act on something ; it must have a nidus 
 — be locally lodged. I must have both matter and 
 force before I can begin to operate.' ' But,' remarks 
 Philosopher No. 4, ' I must have a particular kind of 
 matter, made up of atoms grouped into a peculiar 
 sort of molecules, one inorganic, like a steel filing, and 
 another organic, like a jelly speck, with the odd pro- 
 perty of turning itself inside out.' Well, we give him 
 all that. • I think I can do it now,' says he, * but — 
 but — I must have sixty-three different kinds of atoms 
 before I can get along.' * You seem to want a good 
 deal,' I reply. ' You have got matter and force — two 
 kinds of matter — made of sixty-three different sorts 
 of atoms, and then you say you can get on. Get on, 
 then.' Our philosopher pauses, and, in the words of 
 Mr. George Lewes, ' I believe,' he says, * I want matter 
 and force specially determined under peculiar and 
 complex relations.' I begin to lose faith in the 
 philosophers. I feel t'^ey are taking unfair advan- 
 tages. I have been standing ready to be converted ; 
 but now I can't help cutting in with a remonstrance : 
 ' You vvant matter and force specially determined, 
 under peculiar and complex relations ; or, as Professor 
 Tyndall says, " You want to change fundamentally 
 your conceptions of matter, and then you can get the 
 promise and potency of all life." No doubt ; but how 
 do you get these specially determined, peculiar, and 
 complex relations ? Where does it all come from .'' 
 What so specially determines matter and force, I 
 should like to know ? ' Says the philosopher, with 
 
 ii 
 
 (' 
 
126 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 i:. ,» 
 
 u 
 
 % 
 
 calm magniloquence, * Causality.' Of course, causality ; 
 but, the fact is, you have put into matter and force all 
 that you want to get out of it. It is the old hat 
 trick ; you put into the hat what you afterwards 
 extract. The scientific hat is called Evolution. You 
 have popped sixty-three times behind the curtain, and 
 the whole thing has been so honestly done that you 
 have not cared to conceal one of your peculiar and 
 complex moves. The process of filling the scientific 
 hat may be called causality, or anything else ; and 
 causality explains everything, no doubt. But in the 
 universe causality is nothing but mind immanent in 
 matter. The Unknowable is a bad word for God, 
 Force for Omnipotence, and Adaptation for Wisdom ; 
 and 
 
 * Behind the dim Unknown 
 Standeth God, within the shadow. 
 Keeping watch above His own.' (LoWELL.) 
 
 Science, then, cannot, after all, discredit the object 
 of our religious consciousness. God or mind govern- 
 ing matter cannot be got rid of The universe cannot 
 be made up without Him ; and because mind is homo- 
 geneous, essentially of the same kind, if there be mind 
 in God and mind in man, the rationality of intercourse 
 is evident. The witness to the reality of that inter- 
 course is to be found in the unity and solidarity of 
 the religious consciousness. 
 
 The religions of the world are much more alike 
 than they at first seem. Let us take a few parallelisms, 
 to show by one sentence after another, removed a 
 thousand or five hundred years from each other, how 
 we arrive at the same result. What do I find in India 
 two thousand years before Christ ? I find the devotee 
 on the shores of the Ganges at the rising of the sun. 
 
New York 
 
 127 
 
 praying : ' We meditate upon Thee, the desirable 
 h'ght.' I read elsewhere, ' God is light, in Him is 
 no darkness at all.' Another ancient prayer, fifteen 
 hundred or more years before Christ, reads : 
 
 * Who is the God to whom we should offer sacrifices? 
 He who brightens the sky : 
 He who makes firm the earth : 
 He who measures the air : 
 He is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifice. 
 Who is the God to whom we should offer sacrifice ? 
 He who looks over the water clouds : 
 He who is tJie only life of the bright earth : 
 He who kindles the altar flame : 
 He is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifice.' 
 
 Hundreds of years later, listen to other seers in other 
 lands : ' Offer sacrifices unto the Lord your God,' and 
 ' In the beginning God created the heavens and the 
 earth.' 
 
 Here is an ancient creed, one thousand years 
 before Christ. Kreeshna is the divine friend of man. 
 He is the Hindu Emmanuel. He is God with us, the 
 one who had an understanding of man's affairs, and 
 who gave him counsel, and was near him in the hour 
 of trouble and in the moment of death. And Kreeshna, 
 the divine friend, speaks : ' I am the worship, I am the 
 sacrifice, I am the fire, I am the victim, I am the 
 father and mother of the world : I am the living way, 
 the comforter and witness, the friend and asylum of 
 men.' Will you go over those sentences once more ? 
 I am the worship — * How amiable are Thy courts, O 
 Lord of Hosts ! ' I am the sacrifice — * Yea, the Lamb 
 slain from the foundation of the world.' I am the 
 fire — ' Our God is a consuming fire.' I am the victim — 
 * He hath made Him to be sin for us who knew no sin.' 
 
 (( 
 
a t 
 
 128 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 f 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 'is ' 
 
 Do you not recognise those words ? I am the father 
 and mother of the world — ' Surely Thou art our Father,' 
 • When father and mother forsake thee, the Lord 
 takcth thee up.' I am the living way, the comforter ; 
 yea, * The way, the truth, and the life.' Do you remem- 
 ber who said, ' It is expedient for you that I go away 
 for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come 
 unto you ; but if I depart, I will send Him unto you, 
 even the Holy Ghost ' ? 'I am the friend and asylum 
 of men.' Is there any friend like God ? Is there any 
 friend to whom we can go at all times, and be so 
 perfectly understood ? Is He not the friend that 
 sticketh closer than a brother? Is He not my rest 
 and asylum, protector and shepherd ? * The Lord 
 is my shepherd : I shall not want. He maketh me 
 to lie down in green pastures ; He leadeth me beside 
 the still waters.' There is here solidarity between 
 Hebrew and Hindu. 
 
 Take the Egyptian religion. Then the Chinese 
 or Greek. Monotheism lies at the root of each. In 
 the Hindu the attributes of these religions are mono- 
 theistic. All believe in one God, There Brahma, the 
 one source, was symbolised by Fire God or Water 
 God, but Agni could not burn without Brahma, nor 
 Indra pour without Brahma. In Egypt the myth is 
 arrested halfway between the symbolism of India 
 and the anthropomorphism of Greece. The animal- 
 headed god is more than a symbol and less than a 
 man. If you doubt the essentially monotheistic essence 
 of Egyptian religion, turn to its ancient credo, thou- 
 sands of years before Christ : ' Hail, Thou great God, 
 who concedest this hour, Father of all fathers, God of 
 all gods, watcher traversing cternit)^ the roarino- of 
 
New York 
 
 129 
 
 thy voice is in the clouds, Thy breath is on the 
 mountain tops. Heaven and earth obey Thy com- 
 mands. God of terrors, bringer of great joy. Thou 
 fillest the granaries, Thou carest for the poor ; Thou 
 art not graven in marble. Thou art not seen by mortal 
 eye — Thine abode is not known — no temple can hold 
 Thee ; Thy name is not spoken in heaven, vain are all 
 Thine images on earth. Hail to Thee, Mighty God ! ' 
 I read elsewhere, ' The Most High dwellcth not in 
 temples made with hands — heaven is my throne, and 
 earth is my footstool — what house will ye build Me, 
 saith the Lord, and where is the place of my rest ? ' 
 
 Passing to China, we find Shang Ti is not quite a 
 personal God — the Chinaman is cautious about the 
 invisible world. Shang Ti is a personal heaven — a 
 something in the unseen that has affinity with man. 
 He places ' the moral law in the heart of man, and,' 
 adds the practical philosopher, * sets a governor [the 
 Emperor] over him to see that he keeps it.' 
 
 Passing to Greece, polytheism there seems to reign 
 triumphant, but on nearer inspection it is reduced to 
 something like monotheistic order in Zeus, king of 
 the gods ; and a higher unity still is reached in Moira 
 (Fate) and Anangke (Necessity) to which even Zeus 
 must bow. Eternal, divine, irreversible law is seen to 
 lie at the foundation of all things, having its home, as 
 says the 'judicious Hooker,' in the very bosom of God 
 himself. Thus, in India, all is Brahma ; in Egypt all 
 iiows from Ra, the Sun ; in China all bows to the 
 Personal Heaven ; in Greece and Rome all is sub- 
 ordinate to Zeus or Jupiter, both summed up in the 
 unity of supreme law — law, Anangke, controlling mar 
 and bringing him into sympathy with God. 
 
 VOL. I K 
 
 r 
 
I ; 
 
 '•. (i 
 
 130 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 It remains for me to say to you a word on the Bible. 
 The key of the Bible lies in a perception of the pro- 
 gressive nature of the religious consciousness. Once 
 grasp that position, and no so-called attacks on the 
 Bible will do you or it any harm. The Bible has 
 been wounded in the house of its friends : a kind of 
 verbal inspiration value claimed for it which it no- 
 where claims for itself. It is the history of an inspired 
 people rather than an inspired book. The word of 
 God is in the Bible, but all that is in the Bible is not 
 the word of God. It represents the highest levels 
 of religious thought reached in the different ages by 
 the most spiritually gifted people in the world. 
 
 But the spiritual and moral development of the 
 Jews was gradual, and the steps are recorded. You 
 can give the ridiculer of the Bible all his points and 
 beat him. Says he, I find poor morality in Moses, 
 and you say, So do I. We have got on a little since 
 then. * I find scientific error in Leviticus, and ques- 
 tionable history in Exodus.' * No doubt,' you reply, 
 for men spoke as they thought, and their knowledge 
 of history and natural law was the knowledge of their 
 age, not ours. Their view of the Supreme Being was 
 at first childish ; the prophets mended upon Moses, 
 and Christ superseded, or, as He says, ' fulfilled,' both. 
 The theological conceptions which clothed the religious 
 consciousness were progressive. You do not speak 
 of the Almighty now as He is spoken of in Genesis. 
 You don't suppose that He walks about in gardens in 
 the cool of the day as if He could not bear the heat 
 of the sun ; or that He comes down attracted by the 
 smell of roast meat, as He is said to have done when 
 Noah sacrificed. You do not even paint Him as 
 Giotto did with perfect reverence in the middle ages 
 
 i**', i 
 
New York 
 
 131 
 
 — an old man with a long white beard, and the Son a 
 younger man on His right hand, with a dove flying 
 from beneath their feet. Each age has its symbols, 
 and the religious consciousness embodies itself pro- 
 gressively. The God of Adam and Noah is hardly 
 the God even of Joshua and Caleb. In David wc 
 have a transition God — one moment He is a mere God 
 of battles, an aider and abettor of pagan spite and 
 violence, and at another a God of mercy and loving 
 kindness, of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. In 
 Ish, He is at once sublime and tender — the High and 
 Holy One inhabiting eternity, and the tender Friend 
 and Protector of man : * In all their afflic'-ion He was 
 afflicted, and the angel of His presence followed them.' 
 But in Jesus at last, in the fullness of time, the religious 
 consciousness finds its perfect rest and realisation ; the 
 moral and spiritual, the intelligible side of God stands 
 at last revealed under the limitations of humanity. 
 All the scattered lights of the ages — Brahma, Kreeshna, 
 Ra, Zeus, the Personal Heaven — meet in Him who is 
 the Light that lighteth every man that comcth into 
 the world. No note of ancient religion that vibrates 
 still but finds an echo in the heart of Jesus — the Rc- 
 velator of the Father ; the Educator of the soul ; the 
 Saviour from sin ; the High Priest touched with the 
 feeling of our infirmities ; the Alan of Sorrows, ac- 
 quainted with grief, who knows what is in man ; and 
 therefore the righteous Judge of all the earth. 
 
 XXX 
 
 Vassar. — At Vassar, Poughkeepsie, where I have 
 twice lectured and once preached, some of the girls 
 
 K 2 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
T 
 
 132 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 .!'. ' 
 
 belonged to rich faiiiilies at Chicago and even Fran- 
 cisco. I found at Francisco in 1895 a Vassar guild 
 consisting entirely of Vassar students past and present. 
 They gave me a reception, and I had the pleasure of 
 seeing in 1895 several ladies — now mothers of families 
 — whom I remember as young girls in 1885-93. One 
 young lady, a Chicago girl, quite the pearl of 
 Vassar both in beauty and learning, in 1893 head 
 of the senior class, Miss Ferry by name visited me 
 later in London ; she was travelling with her family 
 As leader of her class, she invited me and my wife 
 when I was at Vassar to tea in her private sitting 
 room. I cannot recall how many times in how many 
 birthday books I that night signed my name. I 
 preached to the girls in their large college chapel on 
 Sunday morning a sermon on character ; it was a 
 most inspiring audience, for all were, as one may say, 
 at the ' meeting of the ways,' all eager, receptive, and 
 earnest ; many took notes. A governess reported to 
 me a conversation she had heard between two of the 
 girls — one boasted : 
 
 ' I have written it all down ; I don't believe I have 
 missed out anything. Didn't you take notes ? ' 
 
 ' Notes ! ' said the other girl scornfully ; ' what's the 
 use of my taking notes ? Haven't I got every word of 
 it in my heart ? ' 
 
 The good lady said she told me this because she 
 thought it would please me. It did please me — it did 
 more than please me, it helped me very much. At 
 the request of the senior class I wrote out the heads 
 of the sermon for the benefit of the college. 
 
 At night I preached at Poughkeepsie, three miles 
 from Vassar Park and College. Numbers of the 
 Vassar students walked in, and there was not stand- 
 
^r^ 
 
 ing room 
 
 New York 133 
 
 in the place. The good Archdeacon 
 Ziegenfuss, who welcomed me, is numbered now with 
 those who have gone to their rest since 1893. He 
 pointed to a shelf in his vestry containing a complete 
 set of my books —alas ! mostly pirated American 
 editions. 
 
 It is perhaps not unnatural that I should dwell 
 chiefly upon my last visit to Vassar in 1 893, as it made 
 the deepest and most pleasurable impression upon 
 me ; but I shall not soon forget my first introduction 
 to Vassar College on account of a certain incident. I 
 had hurried away one afternoon from a crowded re- 
 ception at Columbia College, New York — jumped 
 into the train and run some forty miles by the side of 
 the Hudson River down to Poughkeepsie, an old Indian 
 town three miles from Vassar. A rickety vehicle 
 rattled me off to the College, a most imposing 
 brick building, reminding one of an ancient Eliza- 
 bethan mansion on a huge scale standing in its own 
 park. 
 
 It was a quarter past seven, and I had to lecture at 
 eight. No meal had been prepared for me — I had not 
 dined — I was fagged out with shaking hands all the 
 afternoon. 
 
 A stately matron showed me into a vast apart- 
 ment, containing a vast bed. I was told in awed 
 accents that it was the Founder's Room, used onh- 
 for guests of the highest distinction. I said to the 
 respectable matron, feeling rather low and general 1)- 
 out of sorts, and having to meet my audience in 
 about half an hour : 
 
 ' Have you a glass of sherry and a biscuit ? ' 
 
 * I beg pardon } ' said the matron with a scared 
 

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 il 
 
 y 
 
 
 I. 
 t 
 
 134 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 and nervous look, as if she had suddenly come face 
 to face with an only partially reformed drunkard. 
 
 ' A glass of sherry and a biscuit,' I said in a louder 
 and perhaps less patient tone of voice. She positively 
 started, and stammered out : 
 
 ' I — I'm sure I don't know — I'll — I'll inquire,' 
 and catching my eye, which was by this time rolling 
 somewhat fiercely with debility and exasperation, she 
 made a bolt for the door and disappeared. I saw her 
 no more, but in about ten minutes there was a knock. 
 I had thrown myself prostrate upon the enormous 
 bed, for just five minutes' repose before dressing. 
 
 * Come in ! ' I roared, and a spruce Irish damsel 
 entered bearing a tray with tea and a bit of toast. 
 Tea, did I say ? No, a sort of green decoction which 
 tasted like verdigris. Of course it was half cold. I 
 could hardly swallow it ; but it was all that I was 
 going to get. In that vast establishment, in which 
 there was sleeping accommodation for 300 girls and 
 a full staff of teachers, there did not appear to be a 
 glass of wine or any sort of stimulant. The sequel 
 surprised mc, and I make a present of it to all good 
 temperance and total abstinence folk. 
 
 I went down positively shaking and sick at heart 
 with the conviction that I was about to be a complete 
 failure. 
 
 The hall was crowded with hundreds of young 
 girls, teachers, people in from the neighbourhood and 
 clergy from Poughkeepsie, to hear ' the Lowell Lecturer 
 of the year.' The /ocum tenens Principal, a kindly 
 old gentleman (since superseded by the vigorous and 
 able Dr. Taylor), was in the chair, and introduced me 
 whilst I sat looking out with haggard eyes and a dropt 
 

 New York 
 
 135 
 
 jaw upon my festive crowd, my pulse beating slower 
 and slower. When, however, the old Principal quoted 
 a passage which he attributed to me out of a book I had 
 never written, and which he said bore my name (some 
 pirated American hash, I suppose), I was so tickled 
 that the blunder provided me with my opening 
 remarks, which set the people off laughing. I then 
 pulled myself together, and I think I was quite up to 
 my usual mark. Indeed, the old gentleman, who I 
 think had slept fairly well during the last part of my 
 oration, waking up to the sound of somewhat up- 
 roarious applause at the end, rose and said that I had 
 entranced everybody by my eloquence for two hours. 
 I was of course very glad under the circumstances 
 to hear it : certainly I had done very well without the 
 sherry, and it only proves how the nervous system is 
 capable of picking itself up without stimulant. * After 
 all,' I said to myself, ' there is nothing but Mind in 
 the Universe, which is just as well, as there is not 
 always sherry.' 
 
 As the excellent professor of music, who was very 
 sympathetic to me (and by no means a total abstainer), 
 drove me back to the station, wc discoursed of many 
 things, not forgetting the Spartan morals of Vassar 
 College. When I told him about my glass of sherry 
 — or I should say the absence of it — he stroked his 
 beard laconically and remarked, ' You take it far 
 more philosophically than Canon Charles Kingsley 
 who came to lecture here.' 
 
 • How so ? ' 
 
 * Well, Kingsley did not require any stimulant 
 before his lecture, but he called for some hot whisky 
 and water afterwards. It seems that the eminent 
 
 ' 1 1 
 
136 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 author of "Westward Ho!" frcnerally took a night- 
 cap of this description (from my kno\vledg[e of 
 Kingslcy's practice at our Engh'sh universities, I can 
 confirm the truth of this), but there was no whisky nor 
 any other stimulant to be found on the premises. 
 And Kingsley was so indignant at what he considered 
 mean and disrespectful treatment, that he went off 
 in the middle of the night, carrying his own carpet 
 bag all the way to Poughkeepsie. He bade no one 
 farewell, and so he vanished.' 
 
 Let no one imagine that I was disappointed with 
 my reception at Vassar either in 1885 or when I 
 revisited it under Dr. Taylor's new regime in 1893. 
 
 It was on this latter occasion only that I preached, 
 and I will close the Vassar episode with the subjoined 
 kindly letter from Principal Taylor : 
 
 r .' 
 
 V 
 
 >i -ii 
 
 ' Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N.V. , 
 
 * President's Office : Nov. 6, 1893. 
 
 ' Mv DEAR Dr. Hawels,— Let me send you a word 
 of farewell, or better good-bye, which is a far better 
 wish, x^nd I will add, cordially, Auf Wiedersehen ! 
 
 ' No, my dear doctor, no courtesy led me to say 
 what I did. Your visit aroused a genuine interest in 
 truth, and your sermon especially seemed to strike 
 the needs of our students. I have heard of it very 
 frequently since. 
 
 * I need not add, after that, that we shall welcome 
 you to America again, and to our college. 
 
 ' With every wish for a prosperous voyage and a 
 happy winter, and with our cordial remembrances to 
 your wife as well as yourself, 
 
 ' I am, faithfully yours, 
 
 ' J. M. Taylor.' 
 
Nkw York 
 
 13; 
 
 XXXI 
 
 American Girls.— Whilst in the neighbourhood 
 of Philadelphia, I visited Ikynmavvr, another larj^e girls' 
 college, originally a Quaker establishment, but now 
 conducted on the most enlightened and liberal prin- 
 ciples, even theatrical entertainments on the premises 
 not being tabooed. I believe that Brynmawr, for a 
 course of settled and somewhat severe study, now bears 
 the palm over all establishments south of New York. 
 I travelled with one very charming young lady from 
 Chicago to San Francisco, who was being taken away 
 from Brynmawr by her mother for a year's rest, on 
 account of her having over-studied, and I can testify 
 to the enthusiasm and love of knowledge with which 
 Brynmawr inspires its students. Yet this girl was as 
 sweet and unaffected and gentle, and alive to all 
 outward interests, as anyone not a bas-blcu. \ may 
 here say that, during my three visits to America, 
 in which I have overrun the Southern and the 
 Northern, the Eastern, the Central and the Western 
 Pacific Coast States, I had singular opportunities of 
 observing the ways of American girls, especially school 
 and college girls. I have stayed for days at their esta- 
 blishments, notably Ogontz, Vassar, Cornell, Stanford 
 and Leland,and the Irving Institute, San P>ancisco. I 
 have .seen and addressed them in class, in chapel, in 
 their theatres and music rooms ; I have walked and 
 talked freely with all sorts and conditions of them ; 
 and I deliberately say that the American girl in her 
 teens is much more interesting, more well-informed, 
 and better able to take care of herself than the average 
 
W i- 
 
 lit 
 
 I 
 
 'I 
 
 138 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 English girl. She is more refined and much more 
 highly educated, as a rule, than the man she 
 marries. Her superior refinement is readily acknow- 
 ledged, and she is a goddess in the house. This 
 throws some light upon the reason why Englishmen 
 like to marry American girls. It is not only 
 because they are rich — which they often are — but 
 because they are better informed, more amusing, 
 quite as affectionate, and much more conversable and 
 generally able than most young English girls. And 
 the reason why American girls like English men is 
 not because they have all got titles, but because our 
 gentlemen are, as a rule, more cultivated, better edu- 
 cated, and less speculative than the average New 
 Yorker. I neither wish to butter my countrymen 
 and cheapen my countrywomen, nor to flatter 
 American girls and disparage American men. I 
 speak very generally, and I qualify my statements 
 with the observation than whilst nothing can be more 
 fascinating than the perfectly well-bred and well- 
 educated American gentleman — he has a grace and 
 openness seldom found even amongst the aristocracy 
 here, for he is warm and they are generally cold — 
 on the other hand, can there be anything more ap- 
 palling than the loud barking and snapping American 
 woman, only comparable in offensiveness to the 
 traditional John Bull on the * Continong,' or 'Arry 
 let loose on the ' Bulleyvards ' } 
 
 The regret which belongs to lost opportunities is 
 often poignant, like that of the man who, looking very 
 much cut up, admitted that he was brooding ov lir 
 folly of not having had a second cut of r 
 incomparable leg of roast mutton thre -*ii.. fore. 
 
 i 
 
Nkw York 
 
 139 
 
 I record with perhaps deeper remorse that I never 
 went to see Carlyle or Maz/ini when both were still 
 living in London, or Madame George Sand when I 
 was in France, or Longfellow when he passed through 
 
 England. 
 
 1 
 
 XXXII 
 
 Walt Whitman. — I did not miss poor Walt, so 
 roughly handled by all sorts and conditions of men 
 because so needlessly frank and utter in his word- 
 painting ; indeed, words were to him mere symbols 
 for atmospheres, emotions and temperatures or planes 
 of thought. 
 
 But even the great masters looked askance at him 
 as they had at Edgar Allan Poe, a far less reputable 
 person. 
 
 Emerson and Longfellow would none of Walt 
 Whitman. He was too uncouth, too rough, too form- 
 less. William Michael Rossetti, with the independent 
 instinct of genius, edited an expurgated edition of his 
 • Leaves of Grass.' But when all is said and done, 
 honest Walt had a dash of peculiar genius and a sort 
 of fearless and prophetic strength which belonged to 
 none of his distinguished critics, great princes of 
 American literature as some of them were. 
 
 No one, not even Emerson, has so seized the spirit 
 of vigorous New America, dashing old precedents to 
 the ground, trampling on effete institutions, bound- 
 ing towards the future like a wild horse of the path- 
 less prairies revelling in its unconquered strength and 
 freedom. 
 
 * I will throw my barbaric yawp 
 Over the roofs of the world,' 
 
 ♦ 
 
I40 
 
 Travei. and Tai.k 
 
 shouted Walt, and he immediately proceeded to throw 
 it ; and men wondered, smiled derisively and then 
 passed by on the other side. But presently it came to 
 be felt that in Walt Whitman was to be found what 
 Diogenes failed to discover in all Athens — a man ; 
 one who risked his life fearlessly on the field of battle, 
 who nursed the sick and wounded with the tenderness 
 of a woman ; who shared his crust with the pauper 
 and parted with his coat to the naked, and was 
 ready to console and hearten up all fainting hands that 
 hung down, protect little children, and consort with 
 outcasts as those who also had the Divine, the to 
 Qfiov^ in them. And so, as he mellowed with the 
 years, all men knew the honest, kindly face, the 
 man who cared not for money or luxury, only for 
 all men, women and children, who passed to and 
 fro on the Philadelphia ferry boats for thirty years, 
 a familiar figure conversing and chatting with the 
 lowest of the people, and quite simple and open 
 and friendly with every human creature, high or 
 low, who happened to address him. A reputation 
 world-wide, unique and sympathetic had gradually 
 grown up round Walt Whitman, who veered and 
 trimmed to no man's fancy, and accepted all, even 
 those who hated and reviled him, and at last they 
 called him 'honest Walt,' and as he grew infirm, and 
 his hair whitened, ' dear old Walt' When it became 
 known that he could not work remuneratively, and 
 li\ed precariously on the limited sale of his scanty 
 books, his friends subscribed to keep him out of 
 poverty, and they gave him a pony carriage. Was 
 not Walt an institution ? — and he took their money 
 with a kindly heart, but without great thanks. Had 
 he not ever been open-handed ? Did he esteem that 
 
 r 
 
Nlvv York 
 
 141 
 
 a merit ? Was it a virtue even to die for his country, 
 or to risk his Hfe freely, as he had so often done to 
 save others ? Not at all ; a man should blush to be 
 praised for such things. They were the prerogatives 
 of all true Humanity. Did they wish to be esteemed 
 other than human — divinely human ? 
 
 So Walt took their money and his pony carriage 
 just as simply as he would have given them, but 
 without many thanks— and so died. 
 
 It is easy to scoff at his formless poems, at his 
 want of technique, at his singular prose ; but the fact 
 remains — Walt Whitman's description of President 
 Lincoln's assassination in the theatre by Booth (the 
 celebrated actor's brother) remains a piece of prose 
 almost unequalled in American modern literature ; 
 and his poem to a lady singing in the prison is cer- 
 tainly one of the tenderest, most pathetic, and most 
 noble-souled pieces of poetry in the English language. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Walt at Homk. — I had got thus far, when I 
 remembered that ' way back,' as the Americans sa)-, 
 in 1885 (just ten years ago, 1895) I had written 
 some lines a few hours only after conversing with the 
 venerable Walt. I think it better to insert them 
 here just as they are. They seem to have the con- 
 temporaneous touch about them : 
 
 It was on a dull December day in 1885 that, ac- 
 companied by my wife and two other ladies, I made 
 a pilgrimage to Camden (Philadelphia), just across 
 the ferry, to see the famous and eccentric Walt 
 Whitman. 
 
^r ' 
 
 ' 
 
 ^1 
 
 I 
 
 ;•! 
 
 142 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I had never joined in the general vituperation 
 which greeted ' Leaves of Grass' when it appeared in an 
 EngHsh dress, under the auspices of William Michael 
 Rossetti. Much as there was repulsive even in that 
 expurgated edition, there seemed to me flashes of 
 genius and clear insight which no age, least of all our 
 own, could afford to despise. The man who wrote 
 'Whispers of Heavenly Death' was not a mere 
 licentious charlatan. The revolt of Whitman against 
 rhyme is like the revolt of Wagner against stereo- 
 typed melody, and in his way he seemed to me to be in 
 search of a freer and more adequate art method for 
 conveying the intimate and rapid interior changes of 
 the soul. Over and above this Whitman's wild stanzas, 
 with their lists of carpenters' tools and * barbaric 
 yawps,' their delight in the smoke and roar of cities 
 as well as in the solitudes of woods and the silence 
 of mountains, and seas and prairies — seemed to me to 
 breathe something distinctive, national, American — in 
 spite of a strange confusion of mind. I could hardly 
 read his superb prose description of the Federal 
 battlefields, and those matchless pages on the assas- 
 sination of President Lincoln (of which he was an 
 eye-witness), without feeling that Whitman was no 
 figure-head — one more monkey, in fact — but a large 
 and living soul, with a certain breadth of aboriginal 
 sympathy, too rare in these days of jejune thought and 
 palsied heart. In Camden the old man lived quietly 
 and inoffensively. The people liked him— he had 
 survived calumny and abuse. The gentleness and 
 ease of his disposition endeared him to all who came 
 habitually in contact with him ; but he sought no 
 one, was in failing health, and lived poorly, but not 
 uncomfortably. He loved the streets, the market 
 
New York 
 
 143 
 
 place, above all the ferry-boats. He spent hours watch- 
 ing the people, and chatting, especially with the 
 common men and little children. On the whole, he 
 seemed to think Nature less spoiled and sophisticated 
 there than elsewhere. 
 
 We found him, late in the afternoon, just come 
 in from his drive — a rather infirm but fine-looking 
 old man, with a long, venerable white beard, a high, 
 thoughtful forehead, a great simplicity of manner, 
 and a total absence of posing. He received us with 
 ease and even grace, and one almost forgot that he 
 was himself only a poor peasant — a soldier in the 
 great war, and after that a ceaseless worker in the 
 army hospitals, and not good for much else in most 
 people's eyes. 
 
 Emerson and the Concord and Cambridge folk 
 had some hopes of him at one time, but they 
 ended by looking askance at him ; he was clearly 
 out of their orbit — out of everyone's orbit but 
 his own. In that content — quite unsoured by 
 abuse — plain in life — with a wide, shrewd outlook 
 at the world, and a great fund of what Confucius 
 called * Humanity.' 
 
 1 
 
 Walt sat in his arm-chair by the lamplight, look- 
 ing a good deal older than he was, for he was then 
 only sixty-six (1885). 
 
 ' Tell me,* he said, ' about Browning. I have had 
 kind words from Tennyson and many of your people, 
 but Browning does not take to me. Tell me about 
 Gladstone. What will become of you all ? You arc 
 hurrying on, on, but to what kind of a democracy 
 are you hurrying ? * 
 
 He seemed more anxious to hear than to speak ; 
 
 f I 
 
''^^1r.. / 
 
 ■Ij 
 
 t 
 
 I ' 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 r 
 
 f{ 
 
 I 
 
 i!' 
 
 t- ' 
 
 144 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Once or twice he alluded 
 
 he made us talk to him. 
 to Emerson. 
 
 ' I saw him quite in the last days, when his 
 memory was gone,' he said. 
 
 * Was not that painful } ' I asked. 
 
 ' No, no ! ' he said, with a glow in his eyes, and 
 leaning forward in his chair. * It seemed to me just 
 right ; it was natural ; Nature slowly claiming back 
 her own — the elements she had lent — he himself did 
 not seem to feel it painful. I did not ; it was all as 
 it should be — harmony, not discord. As he lived, so 
 he died ' — then more slowly, and the old habit of 
 thinking in pictures came back to him — ' like a fine 
 old apple tree going slowly to decay — noble work 
 done, getting ready for rest, or ' — and he paused and 
 seemed to be thinking of days long past — * like a 
 sunset' 
 
 But I soon found there was not much to 
 gather from the Aftermath of Walt Whitman. He, 
 too, seemed going slowly the way of the old apple 
 tree. His brain went very leisurely — with only an 
 occasional flash. He gave us one more image, I 
 thought a powerful one. I was alluding to the un- 
 known, immeasurable public which seemed to engulf 
 immense cheap editions of books. 
 
 ' Who buys, who reads these tracts, tales, poems, 
 sermons, which circulate in millions, and which we 
 should never care to open ? ' 
 
 * You forget,' said Walt, * there is a sea below the 
 sea. We are but on the surface.' 
 
 It would have been difficult to hit upon a more 
 graphic image, or one more nicely to the point. I 
 think Walt, as he likes to be called, was tired, not 
 very communica Jve at all events — or perhaps we had 
 
New York 
 
 145 
 
 not the power of drawing him out. He was, however, 
 very gentle and courteous to the ladies, and before 
 we left, gave us two pamphlets, one containing a 
 few poems, and another in prose. He wrote his 
 name in each, and, as he seemed to be suffering 
 physically from rheumatism, I rose to go. We left 
 with a pleasant, genial feeling of having been con- 
 versing with an agreeable and thoughtful old man 
 but scarcely with the Walt Whitman whose name 
 has been for thirty years notorious rather than famous 
 throughout the civilised world, and whose works have 
 been freely extolled, execrated, and ridiculed, but 
 probably little bought and less read. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Niagara ! From Walt Whitman to Niagara ma}' 
 seem rather a jump, nor is there any connection 
 between them except that Walt is a sort of Niagara 
 of American literature, and that I visited the Falls 
 soon after leaving Philadelphia. 
 
 Until then Niagara was jobbed and sold like a 
 peepshow to every tourist armed with the requisite 
 number of dollars. The State of New York at last 
 bought out the speculators who farmed the banks 
 and tollgates on the American side, and the Canadian 
 Government has followed suit ; for, although the Cana- 
 dian prospects have always been nominally free, the 
 * Rapids ' and the ' Whirlpool ' were for long private 
 property, each worth a dollar a head per peep — an 
 arrangement as discreditable to Canada as it was 
 inconvenient to the visitor. 
 
 Hut nothing can mar Niagara. Nowhere in the 
 VOL. I L 
 
146 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 !iv 
 
 m 
 
 world docs it so little matter what man is or what 
 man does. Man can do nothing with his hotels, 
 bridges, and shanties, or even his advertisements ol 
 soaps and liver pills on the precipitous rocks — nothing 
 which in the least affects the Niagara torrent. It laughs 
 boisterously at his puny inventions ; it simply swamps 
 him and passes by. Like the sea in width, turbulence, 
 size : and yet like no sea, for the boiling flood comes 
 howling and leaping over different levels, twisted and 
 tossed, hurling tons of water to right and left, yet ever 
 rushing on like the waters of no other tide or river 
 upon the earth. 
 
 I came upon these rapids above the falls a second 
 day in clear warm air. The rain was gone. The 
 light lay low on their deep green eddies, and flashed 
 upon the stormy breakers' snowy foam. The wooded 
 islands looked like painted scenes, jewelled with the 
 autumn tints. The sky was of Italian softness^the 
 strange secret of these rapids was revealed in a 
 moment. They belong to a stormy sky, but are the 
 same in all weathers. Such a terrible sea is never 
 seen with such a sky and such light and colour as I 
 now beheld — such peace on the banks close to such 
 boiling fury ! The contrast was unreal, magical, 
 beyond words. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 Driving over to Canada side, in the middle of the 
 suspension bridge, the immense Horseshoe (Canada) 
 and American falls, separated by a lovely island (Goat 
 Island), come into view. I was not disappointed. A 
 nearer sight of the falls, such as I got with a ven- 
 geance when we passed underneath, with the spray of 
 millions of tons drenching me as I clung to the slippery 
 rock — such a view was more appalling in its way, but 
 
 h 
 
New York 
 
 147 
 
 I 
 
 not less magnificent, than the combined vision of the 
 two mighty cataracts, with the swelling clouds of 
 vapours for ever rising out of the abysses below. 
 
 The store of Mrs. Captain Webb opposite the 
 bridge led me to fall into conversation with the driver, 
 who had seen poor Webb go down in the rapids 
 July 2, 1883. 
 
 We drove towards the very spot. 
 
 * Yonder, sir,' said the driver, ' the water is quiet 
 on the Canada side. Webb started from the Clifton 
 House. Come over this side 'cos American police 
 would not allow him to take the water from t'other ; 
 no, nor wasn't an American boatman would put off 
 with him.' 
 
 ' Wasn't he advised ? Did he make no trial ? ' 
 
 ' Advised ! lor' bless you, sir ! everybody told him 
 he'd never come up alive. But he'd swum the worst 
 waters in the world, and meant to swim Niagara. Ho 
 made no trial ; come down 'ere and went in straight. 
 Says he to the Canada boatman what rowed him into 
 yon smooth water, " I made 25,000 dollars by the 
 Channel and have spent 10,000 of them." "Then," 
 says the boatman, " I advise you to go home and spend 
 the other 15,000, and not drown yourself You'll 
 never come out alive, you bet." " Done," says the 
 capt'n, "and I'll meet you at Clifton House to-niglU." 
 Wall, sir, afore the pore feller went over, that boatman 
 was reg'lar overcome with his foolhardy pluck, and he 
 felt for the galliant man : he took him by the hand — 
 " I'll row you back, sir ; don't you try it, you'll never 
 come through." " I don't mind the rapids," says Webb, 
 " but I ain't so sure about the whirlpool, 'cos of the 
 undercurrent," which was the last words the capt'n 
 ever spoke. 
 
 L 2 
 
 « 
 
 i 
 
^z: 
 
 148 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ; H 
 
 I 
 
 * 1 seed him ^o in, and presently he touches the 
 breakers. Why, sir,' and he pointed with his whip to 
 the boiling eddies beneath us, 'you go down to the 
 brink presently, and you'll wonder any man in his 
 senses dared such a thing. Wall, he breasted them 
 for a bit, and thought he could go through the waves 
 like he did in the Channel, but the tons of water smote 
 on him right and left and all ways— they mashed him 
 up. The current sucked him under ; his body came 
 up again and again. I guess the life was pretty well 
 beat out of him afore ever he came to the whirlpool. 
 Me threw up his arms, turned his head to the Canada 
 shore, and went under. We never .see him alive again. 
 He was pretty well mashed about when we picked 
 him up six miles down the river, and they give him a 
 fine funeral, and did summat hand.some for his wife 
 and family. No, she wasn't there : she never sec the 
 falls afore he died. She thought he was going to get 
 through, and fancied he must have struck a rock ; but 
 lor' bless you, sir, them tons of water war enough to 
 pummel him to a jelly without e'er a rock : and so 
 they did. You minded Mrs. Captain Webb's store 
 up yonder ? She don't live there, pore soul ! and 
 she's sold the store ; but the name draws custom.' 
 
 When I got to the hell of waters where poor Webb 
 was last seen, the boiling fury of which no language 
 can describe, the suicidal madness of his attempt was 
 evident. The whole bulk of water that sweeps over 
 the Horseshoe and American falls here comes roaring 
 by over deep sunken rocks at a maximum of twenty- 
 seven miles an hour compressed into a channel of 
 about 2,000 feet wide ; clouds of foam rose, and the 
 spray as of a wild sea was tossed high over our heads 
 and descended in showers of glittering rain. 
 
 ,i 
 
New York 
 
 149 
 
 XXXV 
 
 The Cave of the Winds. —Niagara had but 
 one more experience to offer me more appalliiiLj 
 than this unutterable flood. It was the Cave of the 
 Winds. On reascending the river to Goat Island, 
 I entered the little wooden shanty embowered in 
 trees on the ridge of the cliff. I little knew 
 what I was in for. I was warned to change all my 
 clothes for the flannels and grotesque yellow oil- 
 skin provided for the descent into the Cave of the 
 Winds — coarse flannel slippers tied on with string 
 replaced my boots ; my wife accompanied me in 
 similar apparel. In our huge oilskin helmets we 
 looked like two divers. A steep staircase brought us 
 down some 170 feet, and we came out on a ledge of 
 the rock, and picked our way towards the cloud- 
 enveloped pool of the huge cataract. The grey rocks 
 above us hung loose ; mighty fragments, five tons at a 
 time, fall in winter over the path we trod, and fragmetits 
 shatter every day after sunset, as the air cools. 
 
 Our guide led us on, down and down over slip- 
 pery rock, till on a sudden turn I looked up and saw 
 the whole volume of Niagara, descending apparently 
 on our devoted heads. The spray, in effect, dashed 
 in our faces and stung us terribly. 
 
 * Breathe through your mouth and tread firm,' 
 yelled the gu'de, and seizing one hand with a strong 
 grip, he pulled us over a narrow plank drenched and 
 shiny with spray. A bend brought us out on the 
 rock. 
 
 The chasm beneath us was sheer, the roar of 
 
ISO 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 waters deafening ; for a moment we could realise 
 nothing. I was blinded and soaked — in front of me 
 I at last saw through my drenched eyes the mighty 
 mass, a million of tons a minute, pouring and dashing 
 down its mountains of foam between me and the outer 
 world. It drove the wind like a cannon ball against 
 my breath, and seemed to force open my mouth and 
 swell my lungs. We groped through somehow to the 
 other side and came round on to a jutting rock stand- 
 ing up from the abyss into which fe.. the deluge. 
 
 I had passed between the fall and the rock, and 
 now I was right in front, but still close to the tre- 
 mendous volume of water. I looked up, and through 
 the dazzling spray I saw the top of the fall, like huge 
 masses of white carded wool against the blue sky, and 
 at that moment the sun peeping out I beheld for the 
 first time the perfect rainbow — a complete huge circle 
 painted on the falls ; the bottom of the circle was 
 close to mc, and I dipped my feet in it. 
 
 To this sublimely beautiful moment succeeded one 
 of what seemed to me considerable risk, and I shall 
 certainly carry the awful experience to my dying day. 
 We came to another slippery wooden plank bridging 
 a watery chasm, but the plank was misplaced and 
 aslant, and the handrail rocked and swung between 
 the shattering spray and the beating wind ; a slip, a 
 giddiness or failure of nerve must, so it seemed to me, 
 have hurled us inevitably into the whirling waters 
 that roared from above to below ; the shock of the 
 wind, as it was, beat me violently against the rickety 
 rail, and I was too blinded with stinging spray to see 
 my feet. Another moment I got again on the rock 
 and we clambered up the slippery ledges somehow — 
 
New York 
 
 151 
 
 tugged, pushed, lifted by our guide, till we regained 
 the narrow, rocky path beneath the overhanging, ever- 
 dropping cliff leading to the precipitous wooden stair- 
 case. 
 
 The guide assured us that all was perfectly safe 
 and that they never had any accidents. I should like 
 to know about that. I will sa)-, however, that had I 
 known what was meant by the ' Cave of the Winds ' — 
 that hollowing out of the rock beneath the downpour 
 of Niagara— I should never have invited my wife to 
 accompany me, nor should any lady unless of iron 
 nerve and a steady head venture down. I can imagine 
 the shock to the system from mere terror at cer- 
 tain points most disastrous to a delicate organisation. 
 Only two things seem to counteract it — ignorance of 
 what is to come, and intense excitement when it 
 comes. You cling and slide and gasp and blink and 
 pant, and suddenly, when the worst is over, you begin 
 to realise what you have gone through. I am told 
 that Professor Tyndall took great interest in the Cave 
 of the Winds, and went down in far stormier weather 
 He predicted that the curious action of the wind would 
 hollow it out far more deeply before long. I do not 
 know whether the prophecy has been verified. 
 
 M, 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 Lecturers and Acjents.— Before I leave the 
 American frontier and cross to Canada, I think that 
 a word about 'American boomings,' 'American lec- 
 turing.s,' and * American reporters ' will not be out of 
 place. 
 
!|*t, 
 
 'il ! 
 
 ''V 
 
 I 
 
 152 
 
 Travkl and Talk 
 
 It is sometimes curious to get behind the scenes, 
 and look at the lecturing in America from that point 
 of vantage. Face to face with sober fact, the inflated 
 newspaper paragraplis have a marvellous tendency to 
 shrivel up, liUe Cinderella's coach, and the professional 
 circulars to hide their diminished heads when the 
 swans turn out geese. The truth will emerge. I'eople 
 - good, bad, and indifferent go over to America to 
 show themselves and speak a piece. If they have 
 any sort of name, or have written any sort of book, 
 or if they have made themselves ridiculous or subliine 
 in any sort of way, they expect an audience and cash. 
 With a little manageinent and ready money, the 
 lecture bureaus work up a man's reputation, ' grease 
 it, and make it run,' as they say. Newspaper pars fly 
 about. 
 
 The great Macjoncs, it appears, is suffering from 
 a sore throat in London. The great Mac is well, and 
 will leave for America. Prescntl}' he arrives : he is 
 interviewed ; a hall is engaged, he appears — the 
 attendance is bad ; Jones tries elsewhere, the attend- 
 ance is worse ; Jones has another sore throat, and 
 returns to England. 
 
 But sometimes it is .some one a grade above Jones. 
 Some gosling poet, who has got hold of a few press 
 wires, is asked over to discourse on other poets of the 
 past, and run down his contemporaries generally. 
 This is a Lyceum or University lecture-hall affair ; 
 then it dwindles into a .sort of drawing-room business 
 — seats being paid for by any scratch admirers or 
 gobemouchcs who can be got together. Then Poetaster 
 comes home, and perhaps oven his best friends do 
 not know exactly how much he is out of pocket. 
 
 And sometimes it is a greater than Poetaster. A 
 
New York 
 
 153 
 
 ny 
 
 "the 
 
 A 
 
 Matthew Arnold, for instance, thinks it important 
 that America should sec him, if not exactly hear him, 
 and American dollars also happen to be of some 
 importance to him. Accounts differ, but in one 
 respect they afjree — that, excellent as might be the 
 matter, there was room for improvcincnt in the 
 Apostle-of-C iilture's manner. 
 
 Matthew Arnold told me he was always wretched 
 on the platform. He went there avowedly to make 
 money, and made about 800/. I^ut he was out of 
 his clement. Any one who has hctxni the late poet, 
 philosopher, and theologian in the Royal Institution 
 or elsewhere is lucky, for he was generally in- 
 audible even there. 
 
 After his first appearance in America, he took 
 elocution lessons, and was heard a little better. 
 
 ' What I most enjoyed,' he said to me--and I (juitc 
 sympathise with him--' was talking to school girls at 
 several great schools and colleges. The girls I thought 
 (juite charming and so intelligent, and I felt so 
 perfectly at my case, which I never do on the plat- 
 form.' 
 
 ' Malt,' as he was often called lovingly, was very 
 modest and diffident about his own performances, 
 though somewhat severe, as became the prince of 
 critics, on other people. 
 
 Bradlaugh, who certainly was the very opposite 
 in all ways to Matt Arnold, informed me that he 
 had had a marvellous reception in America. He 
 said he had addressed immense and excited crowds, 
 which warmed his blood by overwhelming enthusiasm. 
 I think I took some of that cum grano, but barring 
 h's (he very oddly substituted y's), Bradlaugh was a 
 great orator. I remember hearing quite a grand 
 
154 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 'I 
 
 11 
 
 i 
 
 Id 
 
 >}\l 
 
 It: 
 
 rhetorical apostrophe a little spoilt by this defect. ' If,' 
 he exclaimed triumphantly, ' I 'ave taken away your 
 y-eaven, I 'ave also taken away your y-ell.' Thus 
 causing his Christian * enemy to blaspheme.' 
 
 The late George Augustus Sala was only a 
 moderate success, but he made money. Charles 
 Kingslcy was not a good lecturer, but there was 
 great eagerness to see and hear him. 
 
 Charles Dickens, although he made enemies, at- 
 tracted huge audiences. America and th'2se lecturing 
 cami)aigns arc credited witii providing both Dickens 
 and Charles Kingsley with their i'oi(/>s de grdce. 
 
 Strange to say, the late Mr. Brandram, our most 
 popular Shakespearian recitalist, was such a failure 
 that he had to cancel his engagements and come 
 back ; they simply would not hear him. 
 
 Archdeacon (now 13ean) Farrar was perhaps the 
 greatest success that has been known as a lecturer, 
 although I have heard him declare that ' wild liorses 
 should not drag him through it again.' 
 
 Me wrote his lectures on lirowning and Dante 
 very carefully, and wiis always altering and re-altering 
 ihern fastidiously, although IMiillips Brooks, who was 
 (jften in the chair, told him they would do very well, and 
 I believe advised him to leave them alone. But the 
 eloquent and experienced Canon probably knew best. 
 
 The money he is said to have made, like the 
 proceeds of his books, was variously estimated ; but 
 about 2,000/. within a year, I fancy would not be far 
 wide of the mark. 
 
 Something fabulous was offered Spurgeon 22,000/. 
 I believe — for a preaching tour ; but the great Non- 
 conformist rejected the offer with scorn, accompanied, 
 it is said, with a hasty reference to Acts viii. 20 in 
 rather doubtful but cjuile Spurgeunesque taste. 
 
New York 
 
 155 
 
 was 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 Profits. — I am often asked with reference to 
 lecturing in America about the probable chances of 
 success, the profits, the way to proceed, and the sort 
 of fatigues encountered ; and it is a little difficult 
 to answer or to advise. 
 
 The chances of success depend not upon what 
 you know, but whether you know how to say it ; and 
 not only that, but whether the people want to hear what 
 you have to say, and that depends again a good deal 
 upon who you are, and further whether your person- 
 ality and your voice will command the market always 
 everywhere, like Dickens, or whether you are only 
 marketable for a time on account of recent exploits, 
 like African Stanley, for if the public mind gets off 
 Africa it gets off Stanley. 
 
 Of course great oratorical power like that of Annie 
 l^esant or Charles Bradlaugh vvill always command a 
 public, and great preachers and great statesmen if they 
 choose to turn out will never fail to attract ; but personal 
 distinction, like that of Matthew Arnold, or Stanley, 
 Dean of Westminster, will not neces.-^arily thaw con- 
 tinuously either here or in America, unless it In- 
 coupled with exceptional gifts of oratory antl thai 
 odd indefinable quality calleil personal magnetism for 
 which there has yet been found no real name or 
 analysis. 
 
 People in London, for instance, will go and hear 
 an eminent man once or twice on his own subject 
 but they will not continue to go if they caimot hear 
 what he says, or understand it, or be made to feel 
 interested in it. 
 
156 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Our Royal Institution has afforded piteous in- 
 stances of men of supreme scientific importance 
 floundering helplessly about with inaudible talk and 
 unintelligible experiments, and only getting to the 
 threshold of their subject when th<' signal bell rang 
 and their time was up, and they had got off" little or 
 nothing of what they came there to say. 
 
 This sort of thing will not do for America, and it 
 is of no use fur an author or an authority of any kind 
 to try and fly there unless he has tested his wings 
 elsewhere. His fate will be that of Icarus. 
 
 No one who has not tried, even if he has what is 
 called the gift of the gab, can estimate the difficulty 
 of keeping the absorbed attention of an audience for 
 half an hour at a stretch. Remember, you may have 
 too much gab as well as too little it is upon the 
 qualit)' and the style of the gab that success depends, 
 r'or once ' the readiness is (not) all.' Hut this does 
 not profess to be an essay on public speaking. 
 
 I pass on to the question of profits. These depend 
 ccctcris paribus on the method adopted — there are two 
 methods to choose from. 
 
 You can go over by invitation from the Lowell 
 or any other institute, and your fi.xcd fee will then 
 vary from lo/. to 20/., or possibly at the Lowell 30/. 
 Institutes cannot afford more (schools seldom more), 
 than 10/. ; or you put yourself in the hands of Red- 
 path or Major Pond (II. VV. Beechcr's agent) if you 
 can get them to take you on any terms, and then 
 your profits will depend upon how you * draw.' 
 
 Large halls are engaged ; you take half the gross 
 or three-quarters of the net if you can get it. Your 
 hotels will not be p.iid, but you can generally get 
 iiospitality if you arc eminent enough (and if not you 
 
 11 
 
Nfav York 
 
 15; 
 
 5 in- 
 :ancc 
 : and 
 3 the 
 ranij 
 tic or 
 
 Ltid it 
 ' kind 
 wings 
 
 hat is 
 ficulty 
 ICC for 
 y have 
 DP. the 
 pcnds. 
 s docs 
 
 lepciid 
 uc two 
 
 l.owcll 
 1 then 
 
 ell 30''- 
 more), 
 
 f Red- 
 if you 
 
 d then 
 
 c gross 
 Your 
 Ally get 
 lot you 
 
 had better not go) ; )'our rail fares will probably be 
 paid, but you must make the best terms you can 
 about hotels and railways. If you are a draw, you 
 ought to make from 20/. to 100/. a night ; if you are 
 not a draw, you need not trouble yourself, for j'our 
 agent will soon drop you. 
 
 It does not at all follow that if you are not of the 
 lecturing calibre to succeed as a personally conducted 
 agent's lecturer, you may not do very well in schools 
 and private houses, institutes and lyccums, which the 
 great agents usually dislike and leave untouched. 
 
 If you think yourself a sufficient celebrity on 
 account of some book, like 'Ginx's Baby,' or some 
 casual exploit, like swimming the Channel, you travel 
 with your own agent, and if he doesn't expect to be 
 paid much, you may cover expenses and enjoy your- 
 self fairly well ; but the only two safe ways are to deal 
 with institutes and schools for fixed fees, when with 
 luck you may average 100/. a month for about six 
 months in the year, or el.se get managed by a well- 
 known lecture bureau or established agent, who will 
 put you through the big halls in the big towns, when 
 if you are at all a success you should clear 1,000/. in 
 about nine or ten months. Great hits have cleared 
 double that amount. 
 
 The fatigue ami strain of lecturing in the States 
 must, of course, vary. They depend chief!)- upon three 
 things — whether you work easily or fret and worry, 
 and are nervous and anxious — in a word, whether you 
 evjoy your work or not ; whether travelling, reduced 
 as it now is to a fine art, fatigues and tries you ; 
 and, above all, whether you can sleep and eat and 
 think comfortabl)' en voy<7^<^i\ 
 
 Personally, travelling does not fatigue me at all — 
 
 n 
 
 1 1 
 
"*•»»•«• 
 
 158 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 it rests mc ; and to run two thousanH miles at a stretch 
 day and night, and arrive just in time to slip on a 
 dress coat and turn out on to the platform, affects my 
 nerves and faculties no more than to step out of my 
 study and drive to the Royal Institution at home, or 
 to enter my pulpit on Sunday. But I know that so 
 experienced a speaker as Dean Farrarfelt differently, 
 and it greatly shook both Thackeray and Dickens. 
 I shall have something more to say on this subject 
 when I come to my pioneer and general lecturing 
 experiences in Australia, Tasmania, New Zealand and 
 Ceylon. 
 
 xxxvrii 
 
 Reporters. — I can speak with some experience, 
 as they contrived to make from two to four columns 
 a day at Montreal out of me in one week, and published 
 reports of all my lectures, speeches and sermons, not to 
 say conversations, in P»oston and New York, for about 
 two months. In Francisco they kept taking snap- 
 shots at me all through the seimon, and I appeared 
 in grotesque attitudes, illustrated by verbatim reports. 
 I had sent me, in the Eastern States alone, about 
 eighty columns of these literary curiosities, besides 
 innumerable paragraphs, some of a wildly imagina- 
 tive character. In reporting any speech or lecture 
 dealing with technicalities, your average shorthand 
 man is as hopeless as most other reporters, and .'is 
 absolutely unconscious of his shortcomings. He 
 will write down Homer for Herodotus, or Plutarch 
 for Petrarch. He will put Brittany for Britain, and 
 describe events as happening at the North Pole 
 which could only occur at the Tropics, and vice 
 
 i 
 
Nkw York 
 
 159 
 
 versa, with calmness and even jrusto ; but I must 
 admit that he is rrcnerally eager to pjct his copy 
 corrected if he can ; but copy he must anyhow make 
 — if not at his own expense, then at yours. 
 
 There arc, however, reporters and reporters, and 
 every now and then you get a man who happens to 
 know something about your special subject, and you 
 may be thankful ; only then he is apt to put into 
 your lecture, not always what \ou said, but what 
 he thinks you ought to have said. The most bare- 
 faced bit of reporting I experienced in America wp.sa 
 professed report of a lecture I ga.cat Vassar College. 
 The reporter had not only not been there, but had 
 evidently not even got his information from any 
 one who had ; but he had seen a report of a sermon 
 } had preached in New York a week before. This 
 did. And so he chopped up phrases from that sermon, 
 interlarded with a few sentences of his own, and the 
 report of a Vassar lecture, the very subject of whicli 
 he was ignorant — le voilii ! 
 
 The American IVess is also unscrupulous in 
 asserting the arrival or presence of people who don't 
 arrive. I was amused at reading accounts of my 
 appearance at the Newhaven Church Congress, when 
 I was at Montreal. I never went to the Newhaven 
 Congress at all. 
 
 As regards the wishes o. reporters to know my 
 '-'* opinions, I never disguised them or threw obstacles 
 in the way. M)' great object in life is to get my 
 opinions known and promulgated. What other object 
 can a reasonable ma.i have who believes in his opinions, 
 and wishes to see them operative ? Why do the people 
 who make speeches and write books pretend to be 
 
 i, 
 
■J* 
 
 ,■: B 
 
 160 
 
 Tkavkl and Talk 
 
 shy of being reported and interviewed ? I have no 
 patience with people who shut out the reporter to 
 save themselves trouble, or sneer at the newspapers 
 merely from a sense of superiority, which seldom 
 belongs to those who most affect it. If they arc 
 sincere and know their business, they ought to seize 
 every occasion for the most correct and widest dif- 
 fusion of their views. The reporter places him- 
 self in your hands : lends you a vast machinery 
 which you could not, perhaps, otherwise, or in 
 so effective a manner, command ; gives you in a 
 day the publicity of a dozen expensive and tedious 
 public meetings ; and you, instead of controlling and 
 directing, as you are invited to do, the march of the 
 opinions dearest to your heart, bolt your door, toss 
 your head, or blush like a schoolgirl ! 
 
 For my part, although my opinions may be of 
 little value to the world, I am only too glad when 
 they excite any public interest, and am thankful to 
 all reporters and editors who will allow me to control 
 their diffusion. If, in addition to this, anyone takes 
 a friendly and nearer interest in my own humble per- 
 .sonality, I feel very much flattered, and I hope I am 
 properly grateful, as everyone should be, for all such 
 expressions of kindly feelings. Who am I, or any 
 other man, that I should refuse to say where I was 
 born and how old I am, if it makes any human being 
 happier to know it } 
 
 'fl 
 
 II 
 
Montreal 
 
 i6i 
 
 lave no 
 )rtcr t<^ 
 spapcrs 
 seldom 
 icy arc 
 to seize 
 est dif- 
 ;s him- 
 chinery 
 , or in 
 lU in a 
 tedious 
 ing and 
 I of the 
 )or, toss 
 
 ly be of 
 id when 
 ikful to 
 control 
 le takes 
 ble per- 
 pe I am 
 all such 
 or any 
 re I was 
 n being 
 
 -'I 
 
 MONTREAL 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 Canada. — I have taken two snap shots at 
 Canada : West, from Vancouver to Winnipeg, in 1895 '■> 
 East in 1885, Montreal to Kingston. Both were due 
 to impromptu rushes of travel, or what I might call 
 railway parentheses. The records of these journeys 
 may be slight, but I do not regret having made them. 
 
 As a newspaper correspondent — and I almost 
 always travel in thr.t capacity — I have necessarily ac- 
 quired a certain literary effrontery which makes it 
 natural for me, like other globe-trotters, to rush in 
 where wise men fear to tread. But only thi".I: what 
 the wise men miss ! How much escapes them — how 
 much is lost because they despise whipping out a 
 pencil, or taking a dry-plate snap shot ! I have some- 
 times thought that an impressionist sketch, without 
 being as intrinsically valuable as a finished picture, is 
 often more suggestive. Still I plead guilty to having 
 pushed the theory to extremities, and I confess to a 
 fiiint deprecatory blush when the editor of the ' Con- 
 temporary' printed as a serious article under the 
 title ' Vignettes in Spain ' some pencil notes (in- 
 tended for an evening newspaper) which I had scrib- 
 bled hastily en route whilst looking out of the railway 
 carriage between Barcelona and Cadiz. 
 
 Curiously enough the first editor of the ' Contcmpo- 
 VOL. I M 
 
'''^. 
 
 r '! 
 
 162 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 M 
 
 II 
 
 rary,' Dean Alford, ^avc mc a similar surprise, when he 
 clapped into bijj type a few paj^cs on Hcethoven (since 
 reprinted in * Music and Morals ') which I had written 
 for the ' Notices of Hooks ' then usually printed in small 
 type at the end of the number. Jkit this is not a 
 literary biography. 
 
 When I come to write t/idi, many editors will 'sit 
 up,' from the editor of the ' Times ' who - (but Delanc 
 is dead) -to the editor of 'Punch.' Honest Mark 
 Lemon {(/e mortnis !) 
 
 As to Sir Arthur Arnold, the first editor of the 
 ' Echo,' we could tell pretty ' literary shop ' of each 
 other, and thank God we are both alive and as fast 
 friends, I hope, in i S95 as we were in 1875 {O labnntur 
 auni\) when we sat in adjoinini^ rooms up in the 
 'Echo' office, Catherine Street, Strand : he as Editor, 
 I as a ' Freelance ' leader writer. 
 
 Rut to Canada ! 
 
 My first Canada snapshot was on this wise. I 
 arrived in America very nearly a fortnif^ht before 
 I had to deliver my first Lowell Lecture at Boston. I 
 was then informed that no Lowell Lecturer was allowed 
 to open his mouth in America before he had delivered 
 his official course at the Lowell Institute. 
 
 I at once started for Albany, and made straight 
 for Montreal, and there, with the British flai,*^ instead 
 of the stars and stripes floating over mc, I prated at 
 my ease. 
 
 Smallpox was raj^in^ at Montreal. We were 
 examined, revaccinated, fumigated, disinfected, suffo- 
 cated, and everything else that science required, and 
 so passed into the city. 
 
 The disease raged chiefly amongst the French, who 
 
 I ! 
 
MONTRKAL 
 
 163 
 
 hen he 
 I (since 
 A'ritten 
 n small 
 i not a 
 
 /ill 'sit 
 
 Delane 
 
 1 
 
 t Mark 
 
 
 of the 
 
 1 
 
 of each 
 
 
 as fast 
 
 ■; 
 
 abiintur 
 
 
 in the 
 
 
 \ Editor, 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 ■ 
 
 wise. I 
 
 -> 
 
 : before 
 
 
 )ston. I 
 
 
 allowed 
 
 
 clivered 
 
 
 straight 
 
 ► 
 
 instead 
 
 
 (rated at 
 
 
 /c were 
 
 
 (1, suffo- 
 
 4 
 
 red, and 
 
 
 nch, who 
 
 '« 
 
 are numerous at Montreal, though of course not so 
 numerous as at Quebec. The Montreal French live in 
 the low quarters of the town. They arc mostly poor, 
 ignorant, superstitious, and e.Ktremely dirty people. 
 They did not attempt to guard against or check the 
 smallpox ; the)' even spread it, especially amongst 
 the infant population. They had some muddled idea 
 of a divine dispensation coimected with the manufac- 
 ture of angels, so the blessed babes died right and left- 
 
 My wife and I were received very warml)'. Trade 
 was languishing ; tourists and visitors were shumiing 
 the city. We were hailed by the papers as fearless 
 compatriots. We stayed in the house of Canon 
 Ellegood, kindest and most genial of hosts, who took 
 care that we lacked for nothing, and saw ever)'thing 
 and everybody worth seeing. 
 
 All the time I was at Montreal the papers managed 
 to spin from three to four columns a day out of me 
 and ni)' wife The society and dailies swarmed with 
 such important and choice pieces of information as 
 follows: 
 
 'A lady, on seeing Mrs. Ilawcis, e.xclaimed, " Can 
 it be that this youthful little creature is the great 
 Mrs. Ilaweis, who wrote &c. &c. ? " ' 
 
 Or: 
 
 ' Mr. Ilaweis seemed to have great delight m 
 meeting Dr. Stevenson, with whom he, together with 
 Canon lillegood, had an animated conversation. The 
 three great dt'vincs {sic) &c. &c.' 
 
 Or: 
 
 ' Mrs. Haweis presented a friend at Cote witli a 
 silver S hook." 
 
 M 2 
 
 s 
 
r'. h 
 
 tl 
 
 164 Travel and Talk 
 
 And: 
 
 * The Rev. Mr. Ilaweis dined with the Honourable 
 J. J. C. Abbott on Thursday.' 
 
 ' Reception to Mr. Ilawci.s at the Queen'.s Hall. 
 About 1,500 invitations were issued, and over 1,000 
 guests passed through the assembly. Our reporter, 
 who stated 200, was forced to leave early, &c.' 
 
 The reporters, interlarding the more piquant 
 remarks, no doubt, with the * best butter,' were 
 rather rough on my personal appearance. One de- 
 scribes me at Kingston as ' a man below medium 
 si/c, with a chubby countenance and a peculiarity 
 of manner which would single him out as a tra- 
 velling ph)'sician, not as a musical savant or 
 an Anglican clergyman. The moment he reached 
 the platform he captured the b'hoys with a witty 
 sail)', &c.' Another thought my face ' shrewd and 
 keen ; ' another considered my expression ' gentle 
 and benignant ; ' and altogether I had a good bit to 
 live up to - or down to, as the case might be. 
 
 'i 
 
 mn 
 
 !Ji 
 
 XL 
 
 KlNHSTON. Before leaving Canada, I paid a 
 flying visit to Kingstcrn, whither I had been invited 
 by President Grant, of Kingston University, to address 
 the student?. I was much struck by the almost 
 austere and old-world simplicity of the president's 
 household — the evidently deep but unaffected piety, 
 the regulation chapter from the Bible before breakfast, 
 the heartfelt prayer, the gentle, serious courtesy, the 
 atmosphere of plain living and high thinking that 
 
i 
 
 Montreal 
 
 165 
 
 Durable 
 
 s Hall, 
 r 1,000 
 ^porter, 
 
 piquant 
 ,' were 
 3ne dc- 
 nedium 
 uliarity 
 
 a tra- 
 vi/// or 
 reached 
 a witty 
 wd and 
 
 ' gentle 
 d bit to 
 
 paid a 
 
 invited 
 1 address 
 
 almost 
 esident's 
 ;d piety, 
 
 eakfast, 
 tesy, the 
 ing that 
 
 stamped the university, and was evidently inspired 
 by its official head. 
 
 How vast is the influence wielded by such men 
 throughout America and Canada ! Happy indeed 
 the land in which an ever-increasing number of 
 these 'universities' flourish. No doubt the passion 
 for these collegiate establishments has crcjsscd over 
 from the U.S.A. to the * Old Countr) ,' the term of 
 filial endearment still commonly used on the frontier. 
 lUit many of these so-calleil 'universities' corre- 
 spond rather to our great public schools than to 
 our universities. They are more what Oxford and 
 Cambridge were meant to be, and actually were, in 
 Chaucer's time. The students were mostly boys, 
 or little more, and .so they are at Kingston. 
 
 When I was ushered into my Kingston lecture 
 hall, I was greeted by not very respectful shouts 
 clapping of hands, and a few cat-calls, which pro- 
 ceeded from hilarious juveniles in the gallery. I 
 saw at once the mi.xed hit with which I had to do, 
 and accordingly addressed my.self, as every lecturer 
 who hoi)es for mercy must, to the unruly element, 
 which always has the pcjwer to enjoy itself whilst 
 spoiling the pleasure of all the rest. I managed 
 to bandy a few words with them at the begiiming, 
 and finding themselves overmatched in rei)artee, and 
 the laugh turned good-humoured ly against them, 
 they grew tame and converted their sarcasm into 
 uproarious applause at such intervals as I found it 
 expedient to prepare occasions for them. 
 

 IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 1^ 12.2 
 
 
 I.I I '^ 1^ 
 
 1-25 i 1.4 
 
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 ^\ 
 
 
 Hiotographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 873-4503 
 
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 iV 
 
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 1 66 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 XLI 
 
 The Honourable John Abbott, late Premier 
 of Canada, and legal adviser to the Canadian Pacific 
 Railway, and Sir William Dawson, the eminent natural 
 science philosopher, were by far the most important 
 persons I met during my flying visit to Canada. Mr. 
 J. Abbott was a portly man, with broad, square fore- 
 head, and solid every way in mind and body. I met 
 at his hospitable board many of the leading people 
 in Montreal ; but as I had then no project of chroni- 
 cling my Canadian tour, I have unfortunately not 
 retained their names. 
 
 It was Mr. Abbott who inspired me with that 
 supreme confidence in the future of the Canadian 
 Pacific Railway that no variation of its stocks has 
 since shaken. With the C.P.R. England girdles the 
 globe, and the vast expanse of country opened up by 
 it on either side, right away from the Atlantic to the 
 Pacific — from Montreal to Vancouver — is destined, 
 unless our inconceivable folly and apathy stand in 
 the way, to be the future — why not the present ? — 
 safety valve of our surplus population and our over- 
 production. Mr. Abbott was most anxious in 1885 
 that I should be amongst the first to traverse the 
 new line from coast to coast, and was willing to place 
 every facility at my disposal, but at that time I was 
 due at Boston to deliver the Lowell Lectures. Since 
 then, in 1895, I took a flying journey from Van- 
 couver to Winnipeg and back, whereof more later. 
 
 Soon after I left America in 1885 the last spike 
 was driven, the last rail laid, of that great north-west 
 
Montreal 
 
 167 
 
 1885 
 e the 
 place 
 I was 
 Since 
 Van- 
 er. 
 
 spike 
 i-west 
 
 aitery of ccinmercc, the Canadian Pacific Railway. 
 The discovery of a pass through the Selkirk Moun- 
 tains, and the completion of a Canadian line clear 
 through from Montreal to the coast of British Columbia 
 opposite Vancouver's Island, at once raised burning 
 questions of emigration, traffic and Imperial policy 
 which tend considerably to cheapen the political and 
 commercial importance of the Suez Canal itself 
 
 We can now get from Liverpool to Montreal in 
 less than eight days, the Canadian Pacific Line 
 will take us on to Vancouver in a few days 
 more — and then ? Stand at Vancouver and look 
 across the Pacific towards China, and the road lies 
 open to Hong Kong. The British Government 
 contract steamers bring our mails from Hong Kong 
 via the Canadian Pacific to Liverpool in less time 
 than we ever got them before, and without even 
 touching alien soil ! Look again, and the road lies 
 ope. '■■'. Anstralia, and a wire connecting Australia 
 througi. he Sandwich Isles may be taken up along 
 the track of the Canadian Pacific, uniting Australia 
 with Liverpool. 
 
 Canada thus gives to England a traffic and a tele- 
 graphic route between China, Japan, and Australia, 
 which makes us largely independent of the Suez Canal 
 We can go round the world on our own rails and 
 wires. No one can pull up the first or cut the second ; 
 and we are sometimes told that our Canadian colony 
 is of very little use to us, and that Federation would 
 be a mistake! If this be so, it is because we do not 
 know how to develop our Canadian resources or ap- 
 preciate Canadian loyalty. But Canada gives us her 
 loyalty, and, while chafing bitterly at our apathy and 
 indifference, actually develops her railways in the teeth 
 
r ULJHM& 
 
 W' 
 
 i68 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I ^ • S J 1' 
 
 1)11 '■ ' 
 
 of our sneers and discouragements, and places them 
 and the virgin wealth opened up by them at the dis- 
 posal of the Old Country. Depend upon it, if we do 
 not draw closer to Canada, others will. The French 
 are our rivals at Quebec. Shall the Germans be left 
 to enter into the new heritage opened up by the 
 Canadian Pacific line ? 
 
 Not so long ago Canada approached the British 
 Government with the following statement and proposal, 
 made through Mr. Stephens, Mr. Abbott (counsel), 
 and others, the president and the directors of the 
 Canadian line. In effect this is what they said : ' We 
 are about to open up Canada from shore to shore ; we 
 carry our line through i,ooo miles of richly timbered 
 land from Montreal to Winnipeg ; then through i,ooo 
 miles of prairie arable land from Manitoba to the 
 Rocky Mountains ; then through the Rocky Moun- 
 tains to British Columbia, which is boundlessly fertile. 
 Doubts of the cultivable nature of some of the prairie 
 land were raised. Well, we tried rough ploughing and 
 planting at intervals of twenty miles along our line, 
 and found an abundant harvest result in each case. 
 We now offer to place as many plots of i6o acres at 
 the disposal of as many farmers as choose to come 
 out. Our agent will superintend their settlement. 
 We will put down a log house and stock with a pig, 
 cow, and sheep, and break up the land. Send us 
 people ; advance a million or part of a million to pay 
 the initial expenses. We will give you good security 
 — a lien on the land, shanties, and products, and we 
 will withhold the deeds from the occupants till they 
 have refunded all. You have thousands of dock 
 labourers in London and Liverpool starving, thousands 
 of farmers at their wits' ends — we offer them and 
 
 -*i, 
 
Montreal 
 
 169 
 
 5 them 
 he clis- 
 we do 
 French 
 be left 
 by the 
 
 British 
 roposal, 
 :ounsel), 
 i of the 
 id : ' We 
 lore ; we 
 timbered 
 igh 1,000 
 a to the 
 :y Moun- 
 ,ly fertile, 
 le prairie 
 hing and 
 our Hne, 
 ach case. 
 acres at 
 to come 
 ttlement. 
 /ith a pig, 
 Send us 
 on to pay 
 d security 
 ts, and we 
 till they 
 of dock 
 thousands 
 them and 
 
 their families immediate and certain maintenance, 
 and in a few years wealth.' That was the Canadian 
 Railway's offer to England. The Government did not 
 see its way to meet this large, statesmanlike, industrial 
 and commercial proposal. Private enterprise did. 
 The Tuke Fund has done something. Lady Cathcai t 
 eighteen months ago sent over some of the Scotch 
 crofters, and more are on their way. These have 
 already largely repaid the outlay, and are fast growing 
 fat. The Marquis of Lome told me in 1886, I think, 
 that some of his crofters had done very well. In a 
 few years along the whole line thousands more will 
 doubtless be at work in the virgin forests that 
 stretch 1,000 miles east to west and 300 miles north 
 to south. Thousands will be breaking up the fertile 
 prairie land of equal extent between Manitoba and the 
 Rockies. This must and will come to pass in time. 
 But why should it not come now ? And why should 
 Canada be overrun with foreigners reaping benefits 
 blindly rejected by us ? 
 
 If the Government, instead of struggling with the 
 difficult and complex problem of improving the 
 dwellings of the poor by practically sinking the public 
 money, left that business to private enterprise on 
 commercial principles — for example, the lately opened 
 model lodging-houses at Chelsea — an " took a large, 
 far-seeing view of the colonial emigrant question, why 
 it might help at once to place the surplus inhabitants 
 of these islands in a position where they could not 
 only repay what was advanced, but land themselves 
 in prosperity while developing the sources of our 
 colonial wealth. People the forest, prairie, and moun- 
 tain track of the Canadian Railroad, and Fcdcra- 
 
 I 
 
 X 
 
 I 
 
 * *!>•. w 
 
I70 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 tion would soon be brought within measurable dis- 
 tance, because the wealth evolved would be worth the 
 notice of the Imperial tax gatherer. 
 
 Since 1885 thousands of English tourists, finan- 
 ciers, and politicians have passed over the great newly 
 opened North-western line. They have seen with 
 their own eyes and been able to judge of the truth of 
 what I say. Such an opportunity for a Government 
 to draw closer the ties which bind it to one of its most 
 faithful and richly endowed colonies has not occurred 
 since the days when George III. stiffened his neck and 
 hardened his heart to the just demands of what are 
 now the United States of America. The Canadian- 
 Pacific offer, I am given to understand, might still be 
 renewed if there were the smallest disposition on the 
 part of the English Government to close with it. 
 With rich lands and a hospitable and loyal * Dominion * 
 on one side of the Atlantic, with starving paupers and 
 overcrowded cities on the other, England's motto 
 should be now more than ever, 'Settle and cement.' 
 
 Canada offers us her virgin wealth, her millions 
 of cultivable, ore-producing, and fertile territory. 
 * You may have it,' she says, ' almost for the asking,' 
 and no one takes the least notice. No one steps 
 forward to claim our colony for ourselves. The 
 Canadians want our dock labourers and our teeming 
 pauper families. We shut our eyes, raise the poor 
 rate, enlarge the workhouses, tinker up the dwellings 
 of the artisan, and solicit alms from the benevolent 
 in the winter. 
 
 I received, soon after my return in 1885, two 
 remarkable letters, one from Sir Charles Nicholson, 
 Bart, formerly Speaker of the Australian House 
 
 w 
 
 
 a 
 
 
Montreal 
 
 171 
 
 3 dis- 
 th the 
 
 finan- 
 newly 
 1 with 
 ruth of 
 rnment 
 ts most 
 ccurred 
 eck and 
 rhat are 
 tnadian- 
 t still be 
 1 on the 
 
 with it. 
 ominion ' 
 ipers and 
 's motto 
 ement.' 
 
 millions 
 territory, 
 asking,' 
 one steps 
 es. The 
 teeming 
 the poor 
 dvveUings 
 iDcnevolent 
 
 1885, two 
 Nicholson, 
 ian House 
 
 (Sydney), who knows as much as anyone about our 
 great southern colony, and one from the Hon. Mr. 
 Abbott, leading counsel to the Pacific Railway, who 
 knows as much as anyone about our great northern 
 colony. Both these criers in the wilderness said the 
 same thing from their different standpoints both 
 implicitly charge the mother country, so selfishly 
 wrapped up in home politics, with not knowing the 
 things which belong to her peace. 
 
 * There is a freshness,' writes Sir Charles Nicholson 
 to me, * vigour, and heartiness amongst these young 
 communities that you fail to find in the old European 
 societies. I fancy the secret of this is in a great 
 measure due to the fact that the men who betake 
 themselves to the colonics have a larger amount of 
 innate vigour of mind and body than the mass who 
 remain struggling, starving, and multiplying at such 
 a fearful rate in this country. When one recollects 
 that nearly 1,000 people are added to the population 
 of these little islands every day, one can only ask how 
 long this is to go on ? And yet sad it is to see that not 
 a single statesuian of atiy weigJit or character has yet 
 come forward, amidst the rival political factions that 
 now plague the world, to tell the people of the Empire, 
 of all classes, that the only remedy for the evils under 
 which they are suffering, and which are likely to go 
 on increasing, is emigration.^ 
 
 As regards Canada (and now I turn to Mr. Abbott) 
 it may be asked : What is the Government expected 
 to do? 
 
 I reply: First, to recognise the situation; and, 
 secondly, to aid and abet instead of snubbing or 
 
w. 
 
 172 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ignoring any sound movement for transferring English 
 hands to Canadian homes. In time, no doubt, private 
 enterprise will rush in — probably German and French 
 enterprise. Many Canadian towns are now half French, 
 and many American towns arc half German, not to say 
 Chinese. The messes of political pottage for which 
 our party men are content to sacrifice real Imperial 
 interests must be regarded — as each opportunity is 
 allowed to slip by — as so many blots on our parlia- 
 mentary scutcheon. And remember, each time Canada 
 gets a British kick or snub of neglect. Uncle Sam roars 
 across the boundary : England don't care for you : 
 why don't you join us ? Has not Mr. Lowell himself 
 sung : 
 
 ' God means to make this land, John, 
 Clear thro' from sea to sea ' ? 
 
 Ml 
 
 XLII 
 
 Mr. Abbott, in urging on a policy of immediate 
 emigration, innocently exposed Canada to the next 
 British kick in the following simple and pathetic 
 words contained in a letter to me : 
 
 ' It must surely be interesting to farmers paying 
 high rents for land in England, to know that many 
 million acres of the best land in the world are offered 
 to them in fee simple, free upon settlement, in lots 
 of 160 acres. The Government of England must 
 certainly be interested in the fact that there is now 
 a route to Japan, China, Australia, and India, entirely 
 over England's own territory, as I suppose we must 
 consider the sea to belong to her. And merchants 
 and manufacturers must also be interested in the 
 
Montreal 
 
 ^73 
 
 i,v\ 
 
 igUsh 
 rivatc 
 rench 
 rcnch, 
 to say 
 which 
 iperial 
 nity is 
 parHa- 
 J an ad a 
 m roars 
 )r you : 
 himself 
 
 creation of this new Canadian Pacific route, as render- 
 ing them, in case of war, independent of foreign 
 nations in transmitting their goods and receiving their 
 imports from those countries. The enormous magni- 
 tude of the work that has been done in four years and 
 a half may also be worth a remark, though not going 
 home to people's interests and pockets, as its material 
 advantages must do. 
 
 ' From the emigrant point of view I entirely failed 
 to recognise the value and importance of the country 
 along the Canadian Pacific route until I saw it myself, 
 which I hope you will do next year. And if you go, 
 you should try to do so early in August so as to see 
 the crops, and the country at the best period for esti- 
 mating it at its true value. 
 
 ' The advantages proposed to be offered to immi- 
 grants are very great. It is true the company them- 
 selves have used their lands as a basis for a bond 
 issue, and therefore cannot give them away ; but the 
 Government grants i6o acres of land, as a. free home- 
 stead to every bona fide settler. The idea of the 
 company was that the British Government should 
 make advances to people coming out to settle on these 
 lands, who would, of course, require a small capital, 
 say from lOo/. to 200/., in order to make an advan- 
 tageous beginning. To encourage such advances the 
 Dominion Land Act allows liens to be created on 
 homesteads, to secure them. Now the company pro- 
 posed to your Government to make such advances to 
 the amount of, say, a million sterling ; which advances 
 the company would manage and would cause to be 
 secured upon the homesteads, so that in the end the 
 advances would be repaid to the Government. This 
 seems to be so favourable and advantageous a mode 
 
 Ijl 
 
■a 
 
 174 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 of providiiii,^ fur suri)lus population, that I can hardly 
 doubt that it will be sooner or later adopted, and there 
 would be no difficulty in arranging details in such a 
 manner as to make the advances as safe as could be 
 wished.' 
 
 And now, where is the statesman who will touch 
 this immense proposal for the alleviation of misery, 
 and the cure rather than relief of pauperism, with one 
 of his little fingers ? And echo answers ' where ? ' 
 No. Canadian emigration can't be made immediately 
 an electioneering cry, and so it may be safely given 
 the go-by. 
 
 Of course, private enterprise has already struck in 
 to some extent. The ('anadian I'acific Company has 
 proved the fertility of the soil it offers by planting 
 experimental crops at intervals of twenty miles along 
 the line. Emigration has since been desultory. Ca- 
 nadian grain has superseded English produce, and is 
 in demand on account of its hard quality. Our 
 Government seems alive to the advantage of bring- 
 ing Canadian crops to British mouths. The other 
 experiment — in the long run infinitely cheaper — of 
 bringing British mouths to Canadian crops, has still 
 to be tried. 
 
 i :, l[ 
 
 XLIII 
 
 Sir William Dawson and his charming daughter 
 (who married in England and has since died) visited 
 me at Oueen's House in 1886. The Earl of Dun- 
 raven, so familiar with Canada, and a mighty moose 
 hunter, lunched with us, and we had some most 
 interesting conversation about some recent discoveries 
 of prehistoric man. Sir William Dawson is one of 
 
MONTRKAL 
 
 1/5 
 
 irdly 
 there 
 Lich a 
 Id be 
 
 toucli 
 liscry, 
 h one 
 icrc ? ' 
 liatcly 
 given 
 
 uck in 
 ny has 
 anting 
 ; along 
 '. Ca- 
 
 and is 
 I Our 
 
 3ring- 
 other 
 t)er — of 
 
 as still 
 
 LUghter 
 visited 
 
 Dun- 
 moose 
 
 most 
 overies 
 one of 
 
 the most delightful companions, and a scientific cice- 
 rone who might well be compared to the late erudite 
 and eloquent Sir Richard Owen or the clear and 
 facile Professor Sir William Flower. It has been 
 my privilege to number the last two amongst my 
 warm friends of many years' standing. To listen to 
 Owen in the IJritish Museum ; to Mower at the 
 South Kensington and in the College of Surgeons ; 
 to accompany Dawson through the Montreal geo- 
 logical and natural history galleries, have been 
 amongst the great privileges of my life. 
 
 In 1886 the British Association secured as their 
 president in Sir William Dawson certainly one of 
 the most sagacious, learned, and personally estimable 
 scientific men of the day. The following brief bio- 
 graphical summary may prove interesting to his 
 many admiring friends in England. 
 
 Sir William early accepted his vocation. As a 
 boy at Picton College, Nova Scotia, where he was 
 educated, he was devoted to the study of nature, and 
 was famous for his extensive collections of such 
 minerals, stuffed creatures, and skins of animals as 
 belonged to his native province. He not only accu- 
 mulated, but he early assimilated his knowledge. He 
 loved it, and one of his great educational missions in 
 life has been to make others love it. Needless to 
 say that he soon branched out into fields of original 
 exploration and inquiry which have made his name 
 famous throughout the civilised world. 
 
 He was born in 1 820. At the age of twenty-two 
 he fell in with Sir Charles Lyell, and in 1842 he had 
 
 ■| 1 
 
 ^r 
 
 L 
 
 im 
 
 •Hi 
 /.I 
 
1 7^ 
 
 Tkavkl and Talk 
 
 ^ \ 
 
 1 1 
 
 r 
 
 the j^ood fortune to be his travelling companion dur- 
 ing a scientific tour in Nova Scotia. They devoted 
 themselves especially to the carboniferous rocks and 
 such vestiges of the animal creation as were to be 
 found in them, in 1846 we find him at the Edin- 
 burgh University studying chemistry; and in 1850 
 he returned to Nova Scotia to apply his cxpci imcntal 
 knowledge to geology. His name is associated with 
 the first Normal school there, the New University of 
 New Ikunswick, and since 1855 with the McGill 
 College and University at Montreal — a truly palatial 
 establishment, chiefly erected by the munificence of 
 Mr. Redpath — over which Sir William presides as 
 l*rincipal, and Professor of Natural History. 
 
 No one who has had the advantage of even a 
 short chat with Sir William in the midst ^f his neatly 
 arranged and well-lighted specimens at the Montreal 
 museum can fail to understand the singular charm 
 and power which, as a teacher and lecturer, he exer- 
 cises over all who are desirous, or Cv^en willing, to 
 learn. 
 
 The most quiet and unassuming of men, as fossil 
 after fossil caught his eye, a kind of interior illu- 
 mination seemed to take place. He began leisurely, 
 but with a sort of mental absorption, and almost 
 reverence, which was most contagious, to trace back 
 the history of the embedded mollusc, fern, or lizard, 
 until the days of Creation were rolled back in our 
 presence, and the eye seemed to take in the majesty 
 of extinct forests, the primeval marshes, the tepid 
 seas, and tangled islands swarming with the antedilu- 
 vian reptiles, and immeasurable rank prairie lands 
 trodden by the ungainly megatherium or the prodi- 
 gious stag. Suddenly, with all courteous considera- 
 
Montreal 
 
 ^77 
 
 iur- 
 )tcd 
 and 
 ) be 
 ,din- 
 1850 
 cntal 
 with 
 ity of 
 xGill 
 ilatial 
 icc of 
 Ics as 
 
 ;vcn a 
 neatly 
 Dntreal 
 charm 
 ; exer- 
 ing, to 
 
 fossil 
 )r illu- 
 isurely, 
 almost 
 le back 
 lizard, 
 in our 
 Inajesty 
 tepid 
 itedilu- 
 lands 
 prodi- 
 isidera- 
 
 tion, would Sir William then break off, just when he 
 had got settled comfortably far back of the Flood 
 or even of Adam and ICvc, et id genus omnc, and 
 apologise for losing himself in his favourite medita- 
 tions, what time the passing visitor might be waiting 
 for lunch, or anxious to catch some despotic train. 
 
 Sir William, though ecjually able and interesting, 
 differed from Professor Owen in his scientific talk. 
 Owen was always consciously in personal touch with 
 his audience — he spoke to them ; Sir William is 
 more absorbed in his meditation — he speaks in their 
 presence. To listen to him is like listening to one 
 who is thinking aloud. He expects and wins from 
 all who are worthy to listen to him the absorbed 
 attention he himself brings to his subject. 
 
 Thorgh an active educational administrator, Sir 
 William Dawson has never for a moment relaxed his 
 scientific studies, and these have been from time to 
 time marked with many original discoveries, any one 
 of which would have created an ordinary student's 
 scientific reputation. The discovery of the Dendrer- 
 peton acadianiiui and the Pupa vetusta remains is 
 inseparably associated with his name. The Dendrer- 
 peton was the first reptile found in the coal formation 
 of America, the Pupa vetusta the first known Palaeo- 
 zoic land snail. 
 
 In 1863 Sir William issued his ' Air-Breathers of 
 the Coal Period,' which is a complete account up to 
 date of the fossil reptile and other land animals found 
 in the Nova Scotia coal. His discovery and exposi- 
 tion of the EozoQu Canadense was another striking 
 addition to science. This fossil was first proclaimed 
 VOL. I N 
 
 H 
 
 y 
 
178 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 i' 
 
 1- 
 
 '4 
 
 to be foraminiferous by Dr. Dawson. He revised 
 the scientific nomenclature, for previous to this the 
 rocks of the Laurentian age were beh'eved to be de- 
 void of animal remains and called Azoic. Dr. Dawson 
 was now in a position to substitute the term Eozoic. 
 
 In his * Notes on the Post-pliocene of Canada,' pub- 
 lished in 1873, he raised the number of known species 
 of post-pliocene fossils from about thirty to over two 
 hundred. In 1882 Dr. Dawson became the first Pre- 
 sident of the Royal Society of Canada, and was then 
 created C.M.G. In 1883 he appeared at Southport 
 at the Briti::h Association meeting; in 1883-4 he 
 visited Egypt and Syria ; in 1884 he was one of the 
 presidents of the British Association which met in 
 Canada, and he then accepted the honour of knight- 
 hood. His later works are chiefly on carboniferous 
 reptiles and fossil plants. 
 
 It would be difficult to enumerate all Sir William 
 Dawson's published contributions to science. He has 
 for more than forty years been an indefatigable writer 
 and lecturer in Canada and the United States. He 
 has also lectured at our Royal Institution. Among 
 his better known works may be mentioned : * Hand- 
 book of Geography and Natural History of Nova 
 Scotia ;' his * Archaia,' or studies of creation in Genesis ; 
 his splendid work, 700 octavo pages, * Acadian Geo- 
 logy,' enriched by numerous drawings from his own 
 pencil ; and his * Dawn of Life.' Sir William early 
 imbibed from Sir Charles Lyell certain conservative 
 tendencies in science which at the meeting of the 
 British Association led to some controversy. His 
 presidential address dealt with the sea-bottom of that 
 vast ocean which, if it separates Canada from England, 
 
Montreal 
 
 179 
 
 •I 
 
 iscd 
 the 
 de- 
 vson 
 lie. 
 pub- 
 ecics 
 two 
 Pre- 
 thcn 
 hport 
 -4 be 
 Df the 
 net in 
 nigbt- 
 ifcrous 
 
 is also the means of uniting England to her vast, 
 important, and most patriotic colony. 
 
 Sir William is opposed to the thorough-going Evo- 
 lution theories of Huxley and to the contemptuous 
 treatment of Bible science fashionable in advanced 
 scientific circles. We gather from his works, in fact, 
 that there is a good deal of rough truth to be found in 
 the general outlines of the Mosaic science. There is 
 much more of the reverent, reticent, cautious tone of 
 Darwin about Sir William than the eager, offhand 
 generalisation which belongs to some of Darwin's more 
 confident and omniscient followers. That reverent- 
 mindedness and suspension of judgment for which 
 Faraday and the late Sir William Siemens, among 
 others, were so conspicuous, is certainly not the least 
 striking characteristic of Sir William Dawson, No 
 man ever felt more deeply than he does that the 
 wisest of us are but children picking up pebbles on 
 the seashore of the great ocean of rime. No one ever 
 scrutinised nature in his laboratory with more awe, as 
 one who felt himself moving about in worlds not 
 realised. No man was ever more eager to find out ' the 
 invisible things of Him from the creation of the world,' 
 by a patient and tireless examination of ' the things 
 which are made.' No man has a greater and devouter 
 sense of the infinity of the universe, or a deeper reve- 
 rence for facts. 
 
 Such was the President of the British Association 
 at Birmingham in the year 1886; and that such 
 a man should have been chosen with one accord in 
 an age which is supposed to be, if not atheistic, at 
 least agnostic, is an event of good omen for the future 
 of science and for the religion of England. 
 
 N 2 
 
 
 ml 
 
 •^1 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 w 
 
'i 
 
 
 ff 
 
 (I ' 
 
 1 80 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 An equally good omen is it that we should be able 
 to cull from the greatest poet of the last half of this 
 century a motto which Sir William Dawson would not 
 be ashamed to adopt as altogether fit and pertinent 
 to the work of the illustrious Association over whose 
 deliberations he was in 1886 summoned to preside: 
 
 * Let knowledge grow from more to more, 
 But more of reverence in us dwell ; 
 That mind and soul, according well. 
 
 May make one music as before, 
 But vaster. . . .* 
 
 I 
 
 It 
 
 ■■ 
 
 ill 
 
i8i 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 XLIV 
 
 What is America ? — He who has once been to 
 America is almost certain to go again. 
 
 The Americans are drawn to the Old World, but 
 the Old-Worlders are drawn to the New. 
 
 The mushroom cities, the boundless prairies — now, 
 alas! barren of the buffalo — the untrodden moun- 
 tains, the lakes into which you might almost drop 
 the whole of England, the rivers, with invisible 
 shores, upon which navies and argosies can float as 
 on oceans, the stir and rush of a mighty cosmopolitan 
 population, careless of precedent, with its face set to 
 the future, all this intoxicates the man of * use and 
 wont,' the man of routine who crowns his king 
 regularly, swears by 5 per cent., wears a tall hat on 
 Sunday, and still on the whole believes in the law of 
 primogeniture and the House of Lords. 
 
 'M 
 
 
 ^1 
 
 ■\ 5 
 
 PI 
 
 But America ! What is America ? I have never 
 yet found anyone who knew. To all the world 
 France means Paris ; but does New York mean 
 America? Does Chicago, does Philadelphia, Balti- 
 more, Washington, New Orleans, or San Francisco, 
 or Sacramento ? 
 
 And how about Salt Lake City — Utah and all 
 its works? The people are not the same in these 
 
 m 
 

 182 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I 
 
 J 
 
 : -4 
 
 widely separated states , their tastes and opinions 
 differ, even their marriage and drink laws vary. A vein 
 of corruption runs through their state and municipal 
 legislatures, and this is about all they have in common 
 except an undefined appetite for Canada and the 
 President ; but the more the President meddles with 
 the internal affairs of the States, the more evident it 
 is that the cohesion of the States is rather mechanical 
 than patriotic or politically organic. Why, the States 
 North and South have only just made up their minds 
 that, on the whole, they would postpone political 
 dislocation and live together ; but that vexed question 
 will be again on the tapt's if the President should 
 propose too frequently to put down local strike riots 
 with national troops, or go in for jingoism. 
 
 The old difficulty of holding an immense empire 
 or republic together, even with our modern rails and 
 wires, is recurring. The interests are too diverse, the 
 distances too immense, the sympathies too vague, the 
 habitual absence of all outward pressure from foreign 
 nations which would force political and military com- 
 bination, is too complete. Then the so-called * Ameri- 
 can ' is half Spanish here, half Irish there, diluted with 
 German, Swede, French, and oddly mixed in some 
 places, as in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and on the 
 South Californian frontier, v\ ith Mexican blood, and 
 at New Orleans with African, and up North even with 
 Indian, until the old settler blood from Massachusetts 
 and Pennsylvania is as a few drops in the cosmopolitan 
 ocean, and the perfume of the ' Mayflower ' is almost 
 lost amidst the wildly luxuriant native growths that 
 abound. 
 
 And still we speak of America ? Well, after all, 
 
Chicago 
 
 183 
 
 that is right ; the Anglo element rules anyhow, even 
 when it is Scotch or Irish in flavour. The language 
 rules, whatever the accent may be, and it is even urged 
 that ' Americanese ' is really, both as regards the very 
 words as well as the twang with which they are 
 uttered, much more like what Elizabethan English 
 was than anything to be now heard in the old country 
 The early settlers, we arc told, brought out their 
 words (many of which the old country has dropped) 
 as well as the right way of pronouncing them, so that 
 it is cur English which has really changed and 
 degenerated, whilst Americanese is Shakespearian 
 from the pure wells of English undefiled ! 
 
 But * Revenons nous muttons '(j/V), as poor Artemus 
 wrote. 
 
 XLV 
 
 My Second Voyage.— On leaving America for 
 England in 1885, after my excursion into Canada, 
 my visit to the Eastern Universities, and my delivery 
 of the Lowell Lectures at Boston, I fully meant to 
 return. But I required some sort of call. In 1893 
 that call came. I received one morning a strange 
 circular of a more or less Utopian character. It 
 was signed by the Rev. John Henry Barrows, a 
 Presbyterian minister at Chicago. 
 
 Chicago was preparing for her big World's Fair. 
 It was, without exaggeration, to be, in the words of 
 the late Mr. Barnum, ' the greatest show on airth.' 
 
 It occurred to Dr. Barrows that a * Parliament 
 of the World's Religions,' to meet in the heart of 
 Chicago, would be a suitable counterpoise or counter- 
 demonstration to the great Parliament of Commerce 
 
 i : 
 
 w 
 
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 Hlfl' 
 
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 U 
 
 
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 I 
 
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 J 
 
 184 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 that was to show off its wares in the fairy city seven 
 miles distant on the shores of the Michigan Lake. I 
 was invited to be one of the Anglican delegates in 
 that strange Parliament — whereof more anon. 
 
 I decided to go. This was to be my second 
 voyage across the Atlantic, and it was to take place 
 just nine years after my first. 
 
 Mindful of the * Germanic ' White Star ship, and 
 of all the comfort provided for myself and my wife on 
 board that noble vessel of some 7,000 tons, I con- 
 cluded that the psychological moment had arrived 
 for paying Mr. Ismay a visit at Liverpool, so I looked 
 in at the White Star office. This time I was resolved 
 to try one of the largest ships, and to sail on the 
 'Majestic,' twin to the ' Teutonic,' 10,000 tons. 
 
 Mr. Ismay is a cheery man ; he evidently enjoys 
 the ocean wave himself, and has certainly done his 
 utmost to enable anyone with a reasonable stomach to 
 do the same. 
 
 I found Mr. Ismay seated quietly in the midst of 
 his official business, but courteously ready to lay 
 aside his pen for a few minutes. I explained that I 
 was just on my way to the ' White Star ' quay. After 
 a few words about these colossal ships — ' ocean grey- 
 hounds,' as they have been called — 
 
 * It is a glorious thing,' said Mr. Ismay, leaning 
 back in his chair, ' to battle with the elements ' (peo- 
 ple's views of glory, I thought, differed) 'and to 
 triumph over them.' 
 
 * Yes,' I repeated thoughtfully, * to triumph over 
 them.' 
 
 The fact is, I had never triumphed over the ele- 
 ments, but they had frequently triumphed over me. 
 
 ,1 
 
Chicago 
 
 i85 
 
 ;even 
 e. I 
 :es in 
 
 ?cond 
 place 
 
 D, and 
 /ife on 
 [ con- 
 jrivcd 
 looked 
 solved 
 on the 
 
 enjoys 
 one his 
 nach to 
 
 lidst of 
 to lay 
 that I 
 After 
 
 m grey- 
 
 eaning 
 ' (peo- 
 and to 
 
 ph over 
 
 the ele- 
 )ver me. 
 
 I did not feel that I was going to win this time ; and 
 my fluttering thoughts were already out on the rolling 
 Atlantic. Mr. Ismay, apparently inspired by his 
 subject, gave me a stirring description of a cruise he 
 had had in a steam yacht. 
 
 * We put out in a terrific gale,' he said, cheerfully ; 
 * the sea mountains high. I was on the bridge along 
 with the captain ; never had a finer time ; glorious 
 sight. Arrived at Holyhead in a regular hurricane, 
 and soaked right through to the skin. Never felt 
 better in my life ! ' 
 
 ' It is a question of the inside,' I answered, faintly. 
 He saw the subject was unpleasant, and so we changed 
 the conversation. 
 
 ' You have been connected with shipping all your 
 life } ' 
 
 * Yes. I had largely to do with the mercantile 
 marine long before I became managing owner of the 
 Oceanic Steam Navigation Company, better known 
 as the " White Star Line." ' 
 
 * What do you consider your distinctive feature in 
 relation to the Cunard, Inman, Anchor, Guion, and 
 other oceanic companies ? ' 
 
 ' I think,' said Mr. Ismay, ' it must be allowed that 
 we made quite a new departure in ocean travelling. 
 We aimed at comfort ; that was our speciality. Wc 
 were the first to place our saloon in the centre of the 
 ship, where there is least motion. We set up smoking 
 rooms, bath rooms, a barber's shop, unlimited supply 
 of fresh water, easy revolving chairs, and all sorts of 
 novel appointments, which have, of course, been adopted 
 by the other liners. No, we are not the quickest ( 1 893), 
 and we are not the biggest ; our tonnage is 10,000, 
 the Cunard goes into 12,000, and that company is 
 
 l(i 
 
 I 
 
 ,■ i 
 ', I 
 
 V 
 
 k 
 
7^ 
 
 ■«■■ 
 
 it 
 
 1 86 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 11 
 
 ' ).* 
 
 the oldest, and also remains the quickest ; but our 
 ships have all the latest improvements, and are admi- 
 rably designed and built regardless of expense. The 
 fastest steamers are still on their trial as regards 
 commercial success — they arc experiments. Peril is 
 reduced to a minimum. We also have lost one. 
 The chief danger is not from icebergs, as some people 
 think, but from collisions with other ships.' 
 
 * If there is a rule of the road, how can this occur ? ' 
 
 * Why, in a fog, or by an error in estimating the 
 approach or position of lights at sea. As long as men 
 are human. and fallible, accidents must happen ; look 
 at the accidents which happen on shore.' 
 
 * I notice a man died last week on board — not on 
 one of your ships — from sea sickness. Do you recall 
 any such cases ? ' 
 
 ' None have come to my knowledge as happening 
 on board, but no doubt there are deaths due to 
 exhaustion and inability to take food. Such fatalities 
 usually occur afterwards, and to people otherwise 
 rickety.' 
 
 * I have heard a good deal about the smaller 
 steamers riding over the waves with less friction than 
 the big ones which cut through them. What do you 
 say? ' 
 
 * Why, undoubtedly, the bigger the ship the less 
 motion there is : the smaller ships take longer getting 
 over the water, and of course toss more. It is simply 
 a question of degree with the big ones, and the biggest 
 arc probably the least trying to bad sailors.' 
 
 * What do you think of the American ships ? ' 
 
 ' They formerly beat us in wooden sailers ; but 
 from fiscal reasons, and the American imposts, Jihey 
 have not as yet competed successfully with us in 
 
 ^ \ 
 
Chicago 
 
 187 
 
 L our 
 idmi- 
 The 
 gards 
 eril is 
 ; one. 
 people 
 
 ccur ? ' 
 ng the 
 IS men 
 1 ; look 
 
 -not on 
 u recall 
 
 ppening 
 
 due to 
 
 atalities 
 
 :her\vise 
 
 smaller 
 
 ton than 
 
 do you 
 
 the less 
 r getting 
 s simply 
 e biggest 
 
 ps?' 
 ers ; but 
 )sts, chey 
 ith us in 
 
 the hirge iron craft. You ask about paddles : the 
 screw system as now understood is much superior.' 
 
 Mr. Ismay is still apparently in the prime of life, 
 with a robust constitution, and he is eminently a man 
 whom Liv^erpool delights to honour. In an age of 
 chicanery and unscrupulous speculation, his aims arc 
 simple and straightforward, nor is the influence he has 
 won with the outside public, as well as the shareholders 
 of the ' White Star ' and the many other companies 
 with which he is connected, to be wondered at. 
 
 ' I confess,' he said to me,* money is not and never 
 has been my first object ; nor are those who think 
 most about it and toil most for it the happiest. I have 
 always had other aims in viev\% and worked for them.' 
 
 For a man so little given to talk about himself, so 
 unostentatious and modest, thesj words mean a good 
 deal ; and at the great Liverpool meeting, when his 
 friends, and among them the shareholders of the 
 'White Stcir' line, presented Mr. Ismay with a 
 service of plate, it came out in the speeches how well 
 and disinterestedly he had done his work as manag- 
 ing director for sixteen years. It seems that in 1881 
 a proposal was brought before the shareholders to 
 increase Mr. Ismay's managerial salary and that of 
 Mr. Imrie, his esteemed partner and coadjutor. This 
 offer was declined on behalf of the firm by Mr. Ismay, 
 and then the general feeling of respect took the grace- 
 ful form of a present of plate to Mr. Ismay, and of 
 two splendid pictures by the late Lord Leighton and 
 AlmaTademato Mr. Imrie. 
 
 ' I understand,' I said to Mr. Ismay before we 
 parted, * that the " White Star " business is only a 
 part of your work?' 
 
 
 f ■ 
 
 
F 
 
 tmm 
 
 i 
 
 i88 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ': i ■# 
 
 ' That's so ; * and after detailing a few of his occu- 
 pations connected with other companies, he added, 
 * Parliament has had no attractions for me ; but the 
 fact is I enjoy a quiet life. I think nature intended 
 me for an idle man.' 
 
 Mr. Ismay's * idleness ' consists, among other 
 things, in a large, enlightened, and to him highly 
 recreative interest in the poor, the labouring classes, 
 and the squalid population of the docks and slums of 
 Liverpool. 
 
 * I assure you,' he says, * a good deal is done in 
 Liverpool for the poor, and let me tell you that the 
 poor do a good deal for each other. The poor and 
 needy more than the well-to-do arc knit together, and 
 arc often full of goodness and helpfulness which it 
 is wonderful and instructive to notice.' 
 
 I asked about the condition of sailors on their 
 return, and about the land sharks who prey on 
 them. 
 
 ' All that is much changed now. You see, steam 
 has revolutionised the social habits of sailors. Thou- 
 sands of them are backwards and forwards once a 
 month or so, who in the old days of sailing ships came 
 back only once in six months or a year. The conse- 
 quence is they can marry, are received by their wives 
 and families on landing, and have a definite motive for 
 saving their money and keeping themselves straight. 
 Some years ago a company with which I was asso- 
 ciated was started in Liverpool, which now owns fifty 
 public-houses on the temperance system. Some of 
 these are down by the docks. They afford good 
 lodgings and provisions for sailors, and are highly 
 esteemed by them. We thought we should sink our 
 capital, and we went into it out of philanthropic rather 
 
Chicago 
 
 189 
 
 occu- 
 dded, 
 It the 
 ended 
 
 other 
 highly 
 :lasscs, 
 urns of 
 
 lone in 
 hat the 
 Dor and 
 ner, and 
 vhich it 
 
 on their 
 prey on 
 
 ;e, steam 
 Thou- 
 s once a 
 lips came 
 ic conse- 
 Lcir wives 
 notive for 
 straight, 
 was asso- 
 Dvvns fifty 
 Some of 
 brd good 
 ire highly 
 d sink our 
 >pic rather 
 
 than commercial motives ; but wcgot our 10 per cent. 
 — the thing is a great success.' 
 
 Another bit of Mr. Ismay's ' idleness ' is the Liver- 
 pool training ship ' Indefatigable.' This brings him 
 directly into contact with the waifs and strays of the 
 city — their haunts and their families. Boys are taken 
 at the age of twelve, and receive a thorough training 
 for the national mercantile marine navy. The annual 
 working and expenses average 5,000/. a year, defrayed 
 by voluntary subscriptions, and the treble benefit — to 
 the boys, the town, and the mercantile navy — is well 
 worth all the money. But Mr. Ismay's * idleness ' 
 seems mixed up with his office work in the most 
 genial manner, for while I was with him — wasting his 
 valuable time — there came in messengers and letters, 
 some of which he handed to me, referring to anything 
 but strict business : benefactions, requests, congratu- 
 lations, from which I inferred — and I do not think 
 that I am far wrong — that in Liverpool, at least, Mr. 
 Ismay is the friend of everybody, and everybody is 
 his friend ; still, as I was just going across, I should 
 have felt more completely in sympathy with him if 
 he had not called the equinoctial gales ' a little blow,' 
 and declared that he enjoyed himself vastly drenched 
 to the skin and hanging on to the bridge of a steamer 
 in a hurricane. 
 
 Since my conversation with Mr. Ismay in 1885, 
 besides other big ships the ' Teutonic,' the ' Majestic,' 
 and the ' Georgic ' have been launched. The 
 * Georgic ' is the largest carrying steamer afloat 
 (1896), measuring 557 ft. il^ in. in length, with a 
 displacement of 20,000 tons, and a dead weight of 
 12,000 tons. She has twin screws and a double set 
 
 V 
 
 tr. 
 
 t'l 
 
^ 
 
 
 190 
 
 Trav?:i. and Talk 
 
 I I 
 
 of triple expansion engines. The public ought to be 
 satisfied. 
 
 One word on supply. 1 could wish that some 
 system were devised by which the store of cock- 
 roaches and lavish waste of food on shipboard could 
 be diminished. It wants a woman to do it. No man 
 ever circumvented the rapid flea, the burly and pro- 
 lific beetle, nor probably did ever man compass the 
 full problem of a shilling's-worth for a shilling, on 
 which turn the true economics of housekeeping, and 
 why not shipkeeping } It wants :i woman to ob- 
 serve, to re-utilisc, to dovetail, and to conserve, and 
 why should not some master mind set an example 
 to other lines and create a new profession for women, 
 instead of allowing such a quantity of good food to 
 be flung to the fishes } 
 
 XLVI 
 
 On Board the ' Majestic,' September 1893. — 
 Fourteen hundred souls afloat — packed like herrings .'* 
 Not at all. I am one of them, and here I sit in a 
 gorgeous library, 30 feet long and 20 feet broad, 
 furnished with gilt oak and marqueterie writing 
 tables and bookshelves, and there is not a soul to be 
 seen. We are, in fact, on board the * Majestic,' bound 
 for New York, twin ship to the ' Teutonic ' (White Star 
 Line), which excited the German Emperor's special 
 admiration when he learned that in an incredibly 
 short time this gigantic liner could be converted into 
 a warship, and placed at an)' moment at the disposal 
 of the Government. For the time being the arts of 
 peace prevail — especially the gentle art of dining. 
 We sit down — 287 of us — in the state saloon three 
 
 t 
 
rriicAc.o 
 
 191 
 
 to be 
 
 some 
 cock- 
 could 
 o man 
 d pro- 
 Lss the 
 ng, on 
 ig, and 
 to ob- 
 ve, and 
 xample 
 women, 
 food to 
 
 1893.— 
 errings ? 
 
 sit in a 
 i broad, 
 
 writing 
 oul to be 
 |c/ bound 
 hite Star 
 3 special 
 ncredibly 
 rted into 
 
 disposal 
 he arts of 
 3f dining. 
 oon three 
 
 times a day ; 92 1 steerage passengers and 209 
 second class and 350 crew do the same in their 
 respective quarters. 
 
 The consumption on board this floating hotel 
 seems to be something appalling. All do not eat as 
 much as the boy who sits opposite me, who bolts 
 porridge, mut<-on chops, ham and eggs, sausages, 
 melons, and coffee for breakfast alone, with tlic 
 rapacity of a shark, and keeps it up at each meal ; 
 but still, we do pretty well. People whu suppose 
 that sea-sickness paralyses the stomach may be right 
 in theory, but I will trouble them to explain tlic 
 following simple statistics ! 
 
 We demolish daily (including waste) i ton beef, 
 i^ ton potatoes, 425 lb. mutton, 200 head of poultry, 
 1,000 eggs, 100 lb. ham, 200 lb. butter, a whole 
 Covent Garden of fruit, tons of bread and vegetables. 
 Tea and coffee — 35,000 gallons of water seem enough 
 for the voyage — but I draw a veil over the consump- 
 tion of other fluids, all of which seem to cheer, and 
 some of which have been known to inebriate. I went 
 through the steerage quarters with the captain one day. 
 Lavish profusion seems the rule, and everywhere clean- 
 liness, comfort, and content. Of the vexed question 
 of waste, I shall speak anon. Many of these poor 
 people have never fared so well before, and may never 
 fare so well again. Their diversions, visible from the 
 upper deck, are varied and peculiar. Men dance with 
 men, and women with women, till the strain upon 
 human nature is too great, and the couples re-assort 
 themselves ; then there is a rush for the pretty girls, 
 who after a day or two are usually found somewhat 
 apart behind kegs, ropes, or tarpaulin, with their 
 favourite swains, by a process of natural selection. 
 
 1 
 
 ' i 
 
 Ilii 
 
' 
 
 i^^ 
 
 mim 
 
 ,1 « 
 
 192 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 The same sort of thing goes on up above. The 
 English girls generally sit about on deck chairs till 
 imperceptibly congenial associates gravitate towards 
 them. The American girls are much more frank. 
 They are all over the place, and spend whole morn- 
 ings at the less frequented end of the ship, with the 
 men, not who select them, but whom tJiey seem to 
 select It is dangerous to draw national distinctions ; 
 but, were I asked, I should say that the English rule 
 was to every man a damsel or two, whilst the Ameri- 
 can system seemed to be to every damsel a man or two. 
 
 Apart from the deck recreations of ring-throwing 
 and perambulation, reading and flirting, the voyage is 
 monotonous, but not dull. A whale spouts, a school 
 of dolphins or porpoises leap. Here we are on the 
 most densely crowded ocean track — the ocean Strand, 
 the Atlantic Oxford Street — but so vast is the space 
 that a whole day passes and no ship is seen on the 
 horizon. Yesterday a large French steamer went by 
 and signalled * Have you seen any ice ? ' We signalled 
 back * AW That is a fai*' specimen of ocean conver- 
 sation. But being 1,558 of all sorts and conditions 
 of men, women, and children, we are not dull. 
 
 At nightfall 1,600 electric lamps make our ship 
 a floating blaze of light. The deck is draped with 
 flags, and beneath a wide awning a random dance is 
 started to the sound of three violins. 
 
 Our last evening was devoted to music and philan- 
 thropy. Captain Parsell invited me to preside over 
 the meeting — the duties of which consisted in sitting 
 in front of a large union-jack cushion, and announcing 
 the various singers and reciters who took part in 
 an entertainment on behalf of certain schools for sea- 
 
Chicago 
 
 193 
 
 The 
 ■s till 
 jvards 
 frank, 
 morn- 
 ,h the 
 em to 
 :tions ; 
 ;h rule 
 \meri- 
 or two. 
 
 irowing 
 Dyage is 
 I school 
 
 on the 
 
 Strand, 
 
 Ke space 
 
 on the 
 went by 
 signalled 
 I conver- 
 jnditions 
 
 1. 
 
 our ship 
 
 ped with 
 
 dance is 
 
 id philan- 
 side over 
 in sitting 
 inouncing 
 part in 
 s for sea- 
 
 men's orphan children in Liverpool and New York. 
 Most of the state-room passengers attended, and a col- 
 lection was taken up by six enterprising young ladies, 
 who boldly sallied forth, and seai ^hed the deck and 
 the smoking room, so that, let us hope, no one got off. 
 The collection amounted to 50/., and as the same 
 thing is done on every White Star voyage, these 
 deserving charities ought to score. I am told that at 
 times the amount of talent on board is startling. I 
 was rather startled by its absence. I will mention no 
 names, because everyone did his best, and, as the 
 itinerant preacher justly observed, ^angels can't do no 
 more! 
 
 My humble tribute and respects as a passenger to 
 Captain Parsell, late of the ' Majestic ' and most of the 
 other White Star ships for twenty years back : A 
 genial host indeed, with a smile and a word for all, 
 and tea parties for the ladies every afternoon — some- 
 times he is to be seen dancing the children, even kiss- 
 ing the babies, lending a kindly ear to a steerage 
 emigrant's complaint, going his merry rounds of in- 
 spection twice a day, with an eagle eye for order, and 
 such a nose for a smell, and a strict disciplinarian 
 withal — a man of law and order, half-philosopher, 
 half-patriarch, and whole sea-captain. 
 
 Only those who go down to the sea in ships know 
 how much the content, ease, and salubrity and good 
 morale of the voyage depend on the character and the 
 manner of the captain. Captain Parsell is not only 
 respected, he is beloved by all, and, as Mr. Toole 
 would say, * sarves him right.' We came in sight of 
 shore on our sixth morning. The sumptuous colla- 
 tion called breakfast is once more served — in vain for 
 VOL. I O 
 
 vw 
 
 tl 
 
ij/^^i-* 
 
 am 
 
 I ; ' 
 
 I ' 
 
 194 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 one. I am glad to say that poor worm Nature has 
 at last turned. T/ie boy has ceased to eat. 
 
 Vox once New York was not to detain me. My 
 kind hostesses the Misses Storm, step-daughters of my 
 good friend Dr. Guilbert, received us most hospitably 
 for a few days. I preached (for the second time) on 
 Sunday for Dr. Huntington in Grace Church, and 
 then, accompanied by my wife, pushed on to the city 
 of the World's Fair and the World's Parliament of 
 
 Religions. 
 
 XLVII 
 
 Reflections. — It is wonderful how much better 
 cities are for being burned down occasionally. The 
 burning of Rome under Nero ; of London under 
 Charles II. ; and of Chicago under President Buchanan 
 — all go to show how excellent a thing it is to sweep 
 away a mass of old wooden tenements crowded to- 
 gether in narrow streets, and erect in their places 
 stately edifices of brick and stone. 
 
 Mr. Stead has asked, If Christ came to Chicago, 
 what would He be likely to say? And Mr. Stead 
 has answered that question in his own characteristic 
 manner. My own impression, after having been there, 
 is that if Christ came to Chicago, He would say neither 
 more nor less than He would say if He came to London, 
 Paris, Munich, Berlin, or any other of our great so- 
 called Christian cities. I don't believe that Chicago 
 is one whit worse. The real difference between 
 Chicago or any of our modern cities and the Sodoms 
 and Gomorrahs of the Old World is not that the crimes 
 and vices are absent from the new cities which were 
 rampant in the old, but that there was once no ap- 
 
 r 
 
Chicago 
 
 195 
 
 ; has 
 
 My 
 
 of my 
 itably 
 le) on 
 I, and 
 le city 
 ent of 
 
 t better 
 y. The 
 , under 
 ichanan 
 sweep 
 rded to- 
 places 
 
 hicago, 
 . Stead 
 icteristic 
 en there, 
 y neither 
 London, 
 jreat so- 
 Chicago 
 between 
 Sodoms 
 tie crimes 
 lich were 
 e no ap- 
 
 preciable public opinion against these corruptions, 
 whereas now Mr. Stead denounces them without being 
 immediately put to death. Ay, and thousands of 
 clergy and philanthropists are engaged before the eyes 
 of an admiring world in an active crusade against Tam- 
 many rings, prostitution and cruelty. Impure prac- 
 tices which in the Old World were regarded as sympa- 
 thetic and even graceful weaknesses are now punished 
 with penal servitude. Bribery for political purposes 
 or in the law courts is actionable. M.P.'s are habitually 
 unseated, and judges are permanently disgraced, for 
 what in old times was a mere matter of routine. I 
 am an optimist, I know : were I not, I could not bear 
 to live in such a world as this, but I believe in the 
 steady amelioration of it. I will not continue this 
 line of thought. Suffice it to say that in Chicago, as 
 in New York and London, there are Christian in- 
 fluences at work which, like leaven in the lump, are 
 surely if slowly permeating the whole mass. I have 
 drawn attention to this in detail elsewhere (' The 
 Broad Church,' * Is the Imitation of Christ possible? * 
 &c.). 
 
 Certainly, if Christ had come to Chicago in 1893, 
 and entered the Hall of Columbus during a sitting of 
 the Parliament of Religions, He would have beheld a 
 spectacle which His life and teaching has alone made 
 possible. 
 
 As a rule, whenever Christians assemble together to 
 debate their differences, even now they almost come to 
 blows, and formerly they used to burn each other. But 
 here at last in Chicago, in the year of our Lord 1893 
 under a Christian presidency, Hindu, Parsee, Chinese 
 Cingalese, Catholic, and Protestant met together for 
 the first time in history to rehearse their beliefs in- 
 
 ■ ;l 
 
 o 2 
 
„ml, 
 
 '1 I 
 
 
 196 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 stead of to harp on their differences ; to affirm, instead 
 of to deny ; to construct, instead of to destroy. 
 
 Although the notion that such a gathering was 
 merely an attempt to Barnumise reh'gion in the in- 
 terests of the World's Fair, is a view eminently cha- 
 racteristic of the insular conceit and ignorance of the 
 British clergy, yet the most enlightened and far- 
 seeing ecclesiastic could hardly have anticipated the 
 majestic proportions which the Religious Parliament 
 was destined to assume, and probably the acute Pope 
 Leo XIII. alone amongst the rulers of Christendom 
 rightly gauged the importance of the Parliament and 
 the necessity of the Roman Catholic Church being 
 properly represented there. 
 
 In reality the Parliament had nothing whatever 
 to do with the great show seven miles away. Its 
 deliberations belonged to a very different atmosphere ; 
 and certainly there was no remote touch of the In- 
 dustrial Exhibition or the * Plaisance ' about it, except 
 the crowds that swarmed to its sittings. 
 
 Let me try, ere the impressive vision fades entirely 
 from my mental retina, to recall a glimpse of one of 
 those memorable and spectacular debates. 
 
 XLVIII 
 
 The Parliament. — In the centre of the great 
 material, pork-purveying, money-grubbing city of Chi- 
 cago — seven miles from the World's Fair — is opened 
 the Hall of Columbus, where i/iree times a day an 
 excited crowd scrambles for the 3,000 seats, whilst 
 hundreds are on each occasion daily excluded, and 
 this continues for sixteen days without abatement. 
 
Chicago 
 
 197 
 
 :ead 
 
 was 
 
 e in- 
 ch a- 
 
 )f the 
 
 i far- 
 id the 
 
 Linent 
 Pope 
 
 ;ndom 
 
 at and 
 being 
 
 ,atever 
 
 ,y. Its 
 sphere ; 
 the In- 
 , except 
 
 entirely 
 " one of 
 
 he great 
 y of Chi- 
 s opened 
 a day an 
 ts, whilst 
 ided, and 
 ement. 
 
 An Episcopal bishop or a Presbyterian minister 
 is in the chair. As I sit on the platform I can see 
 through a window the dense crowds waiting outside 
 who will never get in. 
 
 At a signal all doors are closed, and the half- 
 hour papers and speeches, * Theology of Judaism,' 
 * Hinduism,' 'Existence of God,' 'Immortality,' &c., 
 follow in quick succession. The Archbishop of Zante, 
 in flowing robes, gives an address on the Greek 
 Church ; a Catholic bishop, Cardinal Gibbons, shows 
 the needs of man supplied by the Catholic Church ; 
 the eloquent mystic Mazoomda in excellent English 
 pours forth a eulogy on the Bramo-Somaj ; the 
 Archimandrite from Damascus, who boasts that he 
 has never spent a penny, not only addressed the meet- 
 ing, but sat every day — sometimes, it is true, asleep 
 — through all the speeches. The names of Canon 
 (now Dean) Fremantle, Professor Max Miiller, Profes- 
 sor Henry Drummond, Lyman Abbott, Dr. Momerie, 
 and the leading lights of all the American universities, 
 sufficiently show the representative and influential 
 support given to the Religious Parliament ; but to see 
 the absorbed attention of these Chicago crowds day 
 after day riveted on the discussion of abstruse 
 religious and theological questions was a more im- 
 pressive sight even than the Orientals in scarlet and 
 orange-coloured robes and white turbans, or the 
 galaxy of distinguished speakers and teachers whose 
 names are known throughout the civilised world. 
 
 Nothing succeeds like success, and all of us 
 who attended these earnest and enthusiastic meet- 
 ings seemed to feel that the Chicago religious 
 demonstration, with its cosmopolitan cry for unity 
 
 
 
f^ I 
 
 i. 
 
 !l 
 
 n 
 
 ik«ff *' 
 
 
 
 fii 
 
 198 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 and its practical plan for toleration, would leave a 
 mark upon Christendom resembling, though differing 
 from, the new departure created by the Protestant 
 Reformation. 
 
 In listening to the eloquent Dharmapala of Cey- 
 lon, and the subtle and incisive utterances of the 
 gorgeously robed Swami (Master) VivekAnanda, it 
 dawned upon many for the first time that so much 
 high Christianity having been taught before Christ 
 did not cheapen the Christian religion, but merely 
 pointed to the Divine source from which both it and 
 every other devout and noble teaching has come. 
 
 Clearer and clearer every day, as we listened to 
 the accredited teachers of the world's religions, did 
 we perceive the everlastingly recurrent ideas, pure 
 and simple, which underlie and vitalise all religious 
 systems — God, the Soul, Sacrifice, Revelation, Divine 
 Communion — clearer every day seemed to stand out 
 the supremacy of the Christian ideal, and the unique 
 work and personality of Jesus. A few notes of 
 discord served only to throw up into higher relief 
 the predominant keynote of brotherhood. The 
 Rev. Joseph Cook, of Boston, or, as some called 
 him, the Rev. * Cocksure ' Cook, in proclaiming his 
 ' Christian certainties,' exhibited an almost archi- 
 episcopal scorn of, and indifference to, all other cer- 
 tainties and religions, but he carried little weight — 
 except that of his own dogmatism, which nearly sank 
 him. Another gentleman raised a storm by intimating 
 that polygamy was by no means an unmitigated evil. 
 He was nevertheless listened to and loudly applauded 
 at the close of his bold defence of Islamism. 
 
 
 Vivekananda, the popular Hindu monk, whose 
 
 n 
 
 kV 
 
Chicago 
 
 199 
 
 ve a 
 ^ring 
 stant 
 
 Ccy- 
 )f the 
 da, it 
 much 
 Christ 
 nerely 
 it and 
 le. 
 
 led to 
 ns, did 
 s, pure 
 iligious 
 Divine 
 ind out 
 unique 
 otes of 
 r relief 
 The 
 
 called 
 |ning his 
 
 archi- 
 ;her ccr- 
 veight — 
 irly sank 
 timating 
 atcd evil, 
 pplauded 
 
 k, whose 
 
 physiognomy bore the most striking resemblance 
 to the classic face of the Buddha, denounced our 
 commercial prosperity, our bloody wars, and our 
 religious inconsistency, declaring that at such a price 
 the ' mild Hindu ' would have none of our vaunted 
 civilisation. The recurrent and rhetorical use of the 
 phrase * mild Hindu ' produced a very singular im- 
 pression upon the audience, as the furious monk 
 waved his arms and almost foamed at the mouth. 
 ' You come,' he cried, * with the Bible in one hand and 
 the conqueror's sword in the other — you, with your 
 religion of yesterday, to us, who were taught thousands 
 of years ago by our Richis precepts as noble and lives 
 as holy as your Christ's. You trample on us and 
 treat us like the dust beneath your feet. You destroy 
 precious life in animals. You are carnivores. You 
 degrade our people with drink. You insult our 
 women. You scorn our religion — in many points 
 like yours, only better, because more humane. And 
 then you wonder why Christianity makes such slow 
 progress in India. I tell you it is because you are 
 not like your Christ, whom we could honour and 
 reverence. Do you think if you came to our doors 
 like Him, meek and lowly, with a message of love, 
 living and working and suffering for others, as He 
 did, we should turn a deaf ear t Oh, no ! Wc should 
 receive Him and listen to Him, as we have done 
 our own inspired Richis ' (teachers). I consider 
 that Vivekananda's personality was one of the 
 most impressive, and his speech one of the most 
 eloquent speeches which dignified the great congress. 
 This remarkable person appeared in England in the 
 autumn of 1895, and although he led a very retired 
 life, attracted numbers of people to his lodgings, and 
 
 t i(! 
 
 \\ 
 
 I.I 
 
 S \ 
 
 'ill 
 
 I 'I 
 
 r- 
 

 I! • 
 
 I 
 
 200 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 created everywhere a very deep impression. He 
 seemed completely indifferent to money, and lived 
 only for thought. He took quite simply anything 
 that was given him, and when nothing came he went 
 without, yet he never seemed to lack anything ; he 
 lived by faith from day to day, and taught Yogi 
 science to all who would listen, without money and 
 without price. His bright orange flowing robe and 
 white turban recalled forcibly the princely Magians 
 who visited the birthplace of the Divine Babe. The 
 Orientalists at the Congress supported each other 
 admirably, not only from a scenic, but also from a 
 controversial point of view. 
 
 Dharmapala, the Buddhist ascetic, in white robes 
 and jet-black hair, followed Vivekananda, and, speak- 
 ing in the same sense, denounced the missionaries. 
 This brought up a gentleman in Chinese costume, 
 an English missionary, who spoke up for his class with 
 great ability and fire, intimating at the same time that 
 the missionaries were far in advance of the missionary 
 societies who sent them out. These, he said, were 
 often narrow and intolerant ; but the true Christian 
 missionary knew how to value the native religions, 
 and went out, not to denounce them, but to preach 
 what was positive in his own, and to help the people 
 to better knowledge and nobler lives. His class 
 were, he declared, as a rule, not the idiots and self- 
 indulgent idlers that had been described, but God- 
 fearing and self-sacrificing men. 
 
 All the Orientalists fell bitterly on the pork 
 butcher of Chicago, and on meat-eating generally. 
 ' If you cannot give life,' said Mazoomda, ' at least. 
 
 
 'i 
 
Chicago 
 
 201 
 
 He 
 
 lived 
 hing 
 went 
 r ; he 
 Yogi 
 ' and 
 : and 
 igians 
 The 
 other 
 rom a 
 
 2 robes 
 speak - 
 Dnaries. 
 Dstumc, 
 iss with 
 me that 
 jsionary 
 d, were 
 
 iristian 
 ehgions, 
 preach 
 2 people 
 
 is class 
 and self- 
 )Ut God- 
 
 the pork 
 enerally. 
 ' at least, 
 
 for pity's sake, do not take it.' Their utterances, 
 however, failed to bear conviction to pig-killing, 
 sausage-loving Chicago. 
 
 But on the whole, the message to the world from 
 the World's Parliament of Religions has been peace 
 to all that are near, and all that are afar off. 
 
 Indeed, it is time to proclaim the essential unity 
 of all religions — they conflict only in their accidents. 
 The * broken lights ' bear witness to the true Light 
 which lighteth every man that cometh into the world 
 —nay, are parts of that Light as much as the colours 
 in the prism are parts of the sunlight. Henceforth 
 to accept Christ the rejection of all the teachers that 
 went before Him is not necessary, and to receive 
 Christianity need not carry with it the dogma that all 
 other religions are in all parts false. 
 
 Last, not least, people may feel together even 
 when they cannot think or believe alike, and there 
 may be * difference of administration,' and yet ' the 
 same spirit.' The brotherhood of man transcends all 
 the ' isms,' even as Christ is greater than Christianity, 
 and Religion than the Churches. 
 
 These are some of the voices from Chicago, which 
 no scorn of the world can daunt, and no indifference of 
 the Church will be able to silence. 
 
 XLIX 
 
 My Speech. — The humble part which I took in 
 these deliberations was essentially unpolemical. I de- 
 sired that this should be so, and the President readily 
 acquiesced. I spoke upon the connection between 
 religious emotion and music, the subject having a 
 
 'I 
 
 l!l 
 
 \ '< I 
 
 • t 
 
 1f j! 
 
 I'm 
 
I 
 
 1 
 
 202 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 flavour of * Music and Morals,' the book which people 
 in America seemed most to connect with my name. 
 
 It wah on the morning of September 20, about 
 midday ; there was a lull in the proceedings ; some 
 speaker had failed, which brought on my turn sooner 
 than I had expected. 
 
 I cannot pretend that I was unprepared ; on the 
 contrary, I had ready the materials of a very care- 
 fully prepared speech, and had even brought some 
 notes, but the sight of a dense mass of 3,000 people 
 spreading away in front of me, and to right and left, 
 at once made me feel that they and not my notes 
 required all my attention. I therefore requested that 
 the reading desk might be removed, the platform in 
 front of the stage cleared of chairs, so as to allow me 
 to move more freely from side to side, and I then felt 
 that I had gained the most favourable conditions for 
 securing the attention of what was to me the most 
 interesting and cosmopolitan audience which I had 
 ever addressed, or perhaps shall ever address, in my 
 life. 
 
 The speech was reported verbatim. I give it at 
 full length at the end of this (Chicago) section as an 
 excellent specimen of American reporting. I was 
 enabled to watch the process from beginning to end, 
 and it was certainly smart. 
 
 This is how it was done. After delivering my 
 speech I went straightto the type- writingoffice. There 
 I found the shorthand writer already busy dictating 
 his hieroglyphics to a type-writing young lady : she 
 worked with the celerity of steam, and figured away 
 almost as fast as the shorthand man spoke. I sat at 
 another table ; and as the wet sheets rolled off the 
 
 k^' 
 
2oplc 
 mc. 
 
 ibout 
 some 
 ooncr 
 
 in the 
 care- 
 some 
 people 
 id left, 
 ' notes 
 sd that 
 Drm in 
 ,ow me 
 len felt 
 ons for 
 e most 
 I had 
 in my 
 
 ve it at 
 
 1 as an 
 
 I was 
 
 to end, 
 
 ing my 
 There 
 ictating 
 dy : she 
 id away 
 I sat at 
 off the 
 
 Chicago 
 
 203 
 
 machine the)' were handed to mc to read and correct, 
 and it was all I could do to keep pace with my co- 
 operators. 
 
 So we three worked side by side simultaneously 
 for about an hour. I had ceased speaking about one 
 o'cl©ck, and soon after two a speech which took about 
 three-quarters of an hour in delivery was in the 
 printer's hands. So close was the reporting that I 
 found hardly anything to correct. 
 
 The next morning it appeared in the leading 
 journal verbatim, and in the place of honour, with m)' 
 portrait, a truly hideous presentment, more or less 
 sketchy and impressionist in style, straggling over half 
 a page. At first I felt some slight sense of injury, so 
 little 'speculation ' in the eye, so little 'genius and 
 sensibility/ in fact a complete absence of — indeed, 
 no suggestion or hint of that striking exp — that 
 powerful combin — But at this moment a glance at 
 some of the other portraits (all on a much smaller 
 scale, miJii solatium !) reconciled me. I felt positively- 
 grateful ; I had indeed been dealt tenderly with after 
 all. I said to myself, * Certainly there are guys and 
 guys ! ' I pardoned the odious leer, the exaggerated 
 signs of premature decay, I was prepared to meet 
 the condolences of my friends calmly with a shrug 
 of indifference, as if such trifles affected me not a 
 jot — of course they would all feel that so hideous and 
 degrading a misrepresentation of my physiognomy 
 was simply amusing, nothing more — when lo ! the first 
 acquaintance I meet thrusts the paper into my face. 
 ' Seen your portrait .'* Isn't it splendid ? Very image of 
 you ! ' I stared at him for a moment, then I laughed 
 feebly, and passed on ; I felt sorry for him — I saw that 
 his intellect was impaired. 
 
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 I 
 
 
 
 
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 : \ mi 
 
 
 If 
 

 I 
 
 
 i 
 
 :|. 
 
 204 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 There were a few suggestive incidents at the 
 Parh'ament from time to time which it would have 
 been my duty to pay more attention to had I been a 
 local journalist. It was very amusing, for instance, to 
 hear the advanced Japanese theological professor get 
 up and deliver a speech on the retrograde timidity of 
 the English clergy, and point out for their benefit 
 that the Japanese, having read Colenso, * Essays and 
 Reviews,' Sidgwick, Herbert Spencer and John Stuart 
 Mill years ago, had entirely remodelled their Chris- 
 tian theology in accordance with the most advanced 
 standards of modern criticism, philosophy, and science. 
 The enlightened scholar from Japan seemed to look 
 down on our routine theologians with indulgent pity, 
 as upon people still wandering in Cimmerian dark- 
 ness ! He couldn't imagine why when things had been 
 shown to be untrue or unreasonable they should still 
 be seriously taught by the clergy. This quite unex- 
 pected attitude on the part of one who might have 
 been expected to play second fiddle to the accredited 
 theologians of the Old World very much tickled the 
 audience, and the Japanese professor was applauded 
 to the echo. I was invited to reply to him ; but as I 
 should have only been a sort of Balaam, I thought it 
 in better taste to hold my tongue, especially as what 
 the gentleman from the land of the Mikado advanced 
 was not only very sensible but unfortunately very 
 true. 
 
 The Roman Catholic Bishop's attitude was strik- 
 ing and effective. He appeared in full canonicals 
 at the opening, walked in procession, attended the 
 Parliament once, delivered his infallible message from 
 his infallible Church, and then went off to the World's 
 
 ,H 
 
^ I 
 
 the 
 lavc 
 :n a 
 e,to 
 
 get 
 :y of 
 ncfit 
 ; and 
 tuavt 
 :hris- 
 mccd 
 iencc. 
 ) look 
 I pity, 
 dark- 
 i been 
 d still 
 unex- 
 t have 
 -edited 
 edthe 
 
 auded 
 ut as I 
 ught it 
 what 
 vanced 
 very 
 
 LS 
 
 LS 
 
 strik- 
 lonicals 
 ded the 
 ^e from 
 World's 
 
 Chicago 
 
 205 
 
 Fair to enjoy himself, and we saw him no more. His 
 absence was quite as impressive in its way as his 
 meteoric presence. He had told us the truth and 
 departed. It could not be of the smallest interest to 
 him or the Pope his master to know what anyone 
 else might have to say about religion. 
 
 I did not attend all the sittings of the great 
 Parliament. I was sorry to have missed Dr. Momerie's 
 paper, but I subsequently heard him read it at a 
 friend's house. He seems to me to possess an un- 
 rivalled power of clear statement, and he is certainly 
 a man whom the Church of England ought not to 
 dispense with, although he has shown some disposition 
 to dispense with the Church of England. That as he 
 grows old (like Dr. Johnson) he may grow peaceable, 
 is the devout hope of all Dr. Momerie's well-wishers 
 and admirers, and they are legion throughout England 
 and the colonies. Dr. Momerie did me the honour 
 of listening both to my address in the Parliament and 
 to the sermon I preached in Chicago. He himself 
 was not only a frequent speaker in the Parliament, but 
 preached to very large congregations in the city 
 before my arrival. Momerie in London is a sort of 
 Heber Newton. Fortunately the present Bishop of 
 London (Dr. Temple) is not a whit behind the enlight- 
 ened and kindly Dr. Henry Potter, Bishop of New 
 York, in discretion and statesmanlike forbearance, and 
 should these two up-to-date prelates still continue to 
 preside over the sees of London and New York respec- 
 tively, there is every probability that both Momerie 
 and Heber Newton will continue to find a sphere within 
 the pale of episcopacy. 
 
 The gravest blunder committed by the Parlia- 
 ment of Religions was the exclusion of the Mormons. 
 
 ■ '., 
 
 mi 
 
 i 
 
 it 
 
N^^*^ 
 
 206 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 A stout protest was raised against a step so arbitrary 
 and out of harmony with the spirit of the Parlia- 
 ment ; but for once Dr. Barrows was overruled, and 
 the Hall of Columbus was shut against the followers 
 of Joseph Smith. Many people thought this a little 
 rough on the Mormons, especially as they had built 
 Salt Lake City, colonised Utah, and shown them- 
 selves amenable to United States law ; whereas the 
 Mahomedans, who had neither renounced polygamy 
 nor done anything for the United States, were received 
 with open arms and heard with applause. So at the 
 eleventh hour the Mormons were offered the privilege 
 of reading a paper in one of the sectional rooms, which 
 they firmly but respectfully declined to do ; and this 
 most characteristic and phenomenal of all the religious 
 movements of the nineteenth century was simply 
 dropt out at the great representative Parliament of 
 the World's Religions. 
 
 But on the whole wonderfully few mistakes were 
 made, and next to no religious bigotry cropped up. 
 
 Speech [reported] delivered at the Parll\ment of 
 Religions in the Hall of Columbus, September 20, 
 1893. 
 
 * For more than twenty years,' said Dr. Barrows, 
 in introducing Rev. H. R. Haweis, of London, * I have 
 been familiar with the name and writings of the 
 honoured English clergyman who is now to speak to 
 us. He is one of the many representatives that we 
 have from the British Empire, one of the few we have 
 
rary 
 .rlia- 
 and 
 wers 
 little 
 built 
 hem- 
 LS the 
 gamy 
 :eived 
 at the 
 vilege 
 which 
 d this 
 ligious 
 simply 
 lent of 
 
 ;s were 
 d up. 
 
 ENT OF 
 IBER 20, 
 
 ;arrows, 
 ' I have 
 
 of the 
 
 Deak to 
 
 I that we 
 
 ^e have 
 
 Chicago 
 
 207 
 
 in person from England itself. We are deiif^hted that 
 he has come to us. We believe that he will be heard 
 not only on this occasion, but in the churches of our 
 city and on other occasions here during the progress 
 of this Parliament.' 
 
 Mr. Haweis then rose, and spoke as follows : 
 
 ' It would be very hard for me to try and live or 
 speak up to the kind words of your president. You 
 are very judicious to give me some approval before 
 I begin speaking, because it is impossible to know 
 what your feelings may be when I have done. 
 (Laughter.) 
 
 ' My topic is " Music, Emotion, and Morals." I 
 find that the connection between music and morals 
 has been very much left out in the cold here, and yet 
 music is the golden art. You have heard many grave 
 things debated in this room during the last three or 
 four days. Let mc remind you that the connection 
 between the arts and morals is also a very grave 
 subject. Well, here we are, ladies and gentlemen, living 
 in the middle of the golden age of music, perhaps 
 \ ithout knowing it. What would you not have 
 given to see a day of Raphael or a day of Pericles, 
 you who are living in this great Christian age ? Well, 
 as the age of Augustus v/as the golden age of Roman 
 literature, so the age of Pericles was that of sculpture, 
 the Medicean the age of painting ; and the golden age 
 of music is doubtless the Victorian or the Star-spangled 
 Banner age. (Applause.) 
 
 MUSIC A GROWING ART 
 
 * Music is the only living, growing art. All other 
 arts have been discovered. An art is not a growing 
 
 li 
 
 l\ 
 
 Ui 
 
 t V 
 
 ' \ 
 
n 
 
 ll 
 
 •\ 
 
 208 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 art when all its elements have been discovered. You 
 paint now, and you combine the discoveries of the past ; 
 you discover nothing ; you build now, and you combine 
 the researches and the experiences of the past ; but 
 you cannot paint better than Raphael ; you cannot 
 build more beautiful cathedrals than the cathedrals of 
 the middle ages ; but music is still a growing art. Up 
 to yesterday everything in music had not been ex- 
 plored. I say we are in the golden age of music, 
 because we can almost within the memory of a man 
 touch hands with Mozart, Beethoven, and Wagner. 
 We place them upon pedestals side by side with 
 Raphael and with Michael Angelo, yet we have no 
 clear idea of the connection between the art of music 
 and morals, although we place great musicians like 
 Beethoven on a level ^nth the great sculptors, poets, 
 and painters. Now let me tell you that you have no 
 business to spend much time or money or interest upon 
 any subject unless you can make out a connection 
 between the subject and morals and the conduct of 
 life ; unless you can give an art or occupation an 
 ethical and moral basis. You do spend a great deal 
 of money upon music. You pay fabulous prices to 
 engage gigantic orchestras, you give much time 
 to music ; it lays hold of you, it fascinates and 
 enslaves you, yet perhaps you have to confess to 
 yourself that you have no real idea of the connec- 
 tion between music and the conduct of life. An 
 Italian professor said to me the o'cher day, '* Pray, what 
 is the connection between music and morals ? " He 
 then began to scoff a little at the idea chat music was 
 anything but a pleasant way of wiling away time, 
 but he had no idea there was any connection be- 
 tween music and the conduct of life. 
 
m 
 
 You 
 past ; 
 Tibine 
 ; but 
 :annot 
 rals of 
 t. Up 
 m ex- 
 music, 
 a man 
 Wagner, 
 e with 
 ave no 
 ■ music 
 ins like 
 ;, poets, 
 have no 
 jst upon 
 ^nection 
 duct of 
 tion an 
 at deal 
 )rices to 
 h time 
 tes and 
 nfess to 
 connec- 
 e. An 
 ay, what 
 ?" He 
 lusic was 
 ay time, 
 tion be- 
 
 ClIICAGO 
 
 209 
 
 CONNECTION BETWEEN MUSIC AND MORALS 
 
 ' Now if, after to-day, anyone asks you what is the 
 connection between music and morals, I will give it 
 to you in a nutshell. This is the connection : Music 
 is the language of emotion. I suppose you all admit 
 that music has an extraordinary power over your feel- 
 ings, and therefore music is connected with emotion. 
 Emotion is connected with thought. Some kind of 
 feeling or emotion underlies all thought, which from 
 moment to moment flits through your mind. There- 
 fore music is connected with thought. Thought is 
 connected with action. Most people think before they 
 act — or are supposed to, at any rate, and I must give 
 you the benefit of the doubt. Thought is connected 
 with action, action deals with conduct, and the sphere 
 of conduct is connected with morals. Therefore, 
 ladies and gentlemen, if music is connected with emo- 
 tion, and emotion is connected with thought, and 
 thought is connected with action, and action is con- 
 nected with the sphere of conduct, or with morals, 
 things which are connected with the same must be 
 connected with one another, and therefore music must 
 be connected with morals. 
 
 * Now, the real reason why we have coupled all 
 these three words — music, emotion, morals — together, 
 is because emotion is connected with morals. You 
 will all admit that if your emotions or feelings were 
 always wisely directed, life would be more free from 
 the disorders which disturb us. The great disorders 
 of our age come not from the possession of emotional 
 feeling, but from its abuse, its misdirection, waste or 
 perversion. Once discipline your emotions, once get 
 VOL. I P 
 
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 Travel and Talk 
 
 a good quantity of that steam power which we call 
 feeling or emotion and drive it in the right channel, 
 and life becomes noble, fertile and harmonious. 
 
 'Now, if there is this close connection between 
 emotion or feeling and the conduct of life or morals, 
 what the connection between emotion and morals is 
 that also must be the character of the connection be- 
 tween music, which is the art medium of emotion, and 
 morals. 
 
 ? f 
 
 THOUGHT WITHOUT FEELING IS DEAD 
 
 * But there are a great many people who will say, 
 " After all, that art which deals with emotion is less 
 respectable than an art which deals with thought." I 
 might be led here to ask, " What is the connection be- 
 tween emotion and thought .'' " But that would carry 
 me too far. In a word I may say that thought with- 
 out feeling is dead, being alone. You may have a good 
 thought, but if you have not the steam power of emo- 
 tion or feeling at the back of it what will it do for you ? 
 A steam engine may be a very good machine, but it 
 must have the steam. And so our life wants emotion 
 or feeling before we can carry out any of our thoughts 
 and aspirations. Indeed, strange is this wonderful 
 inner life of emotion with which music converses first 
 hand, most intimately, without the mediation of 
 thoughts or words. So strange is this inward life of 
 emotion, so powerful and important is it, that it some- 
 times even transcends thought. We rise out of thought 
 into emotion, for emotion not only precedes, it also 
 transcends thought ; emotion carries on and completes 
 our otherwise incomplete thoughts and aspirations. 
 (Applause.) 
 
 ...^I 
 
Chicago 
 
 211 
 
 I call 
 inncl, 
 
 Avcen 
 orals, 
 •als is 
 )n be- 
 n, and 
 
 ill say, 
 is less 
 ht." I 
 ion be- 
 d carry- 
 it with- 
 ; a good 
 if emo- 
 r you ? 
 , but it 
 motion 
 oughts 
 nderful 
 Ises first 
 tion of 
 life of 
 tt some- 
 Ithought 
 I, it also 
 mpletes 
 lirations. 
 
 ' Tell me, when does the actor culminate ? When 
 he is pouring forth an eloquent diatribe ? When he is 
 uttering the most glowing words of Shakespeare ? No. 
 But when all words fail him and when he stands apart 
 with flashing eye and quiv'ering lip and heaving chest, 
 and allows the impotence of exhausted symbolism to 
 express for him the crisis of his inarticulate emotion. 
 Then we say the actor is sublime, and emotion has 
 transcended thought. (Applause.) 
 
 * Let me now ask, why has emotion or feeling got a 
 bad name? Because emotion is so often misdirected, 
 so often wasted, so often stands for mere gush with- 
 out sincerity, and has no tendency to pass on into 
 action. Hence the lady in Dickens who was carried 
 home in a flood of tears and a sedan chair, and others 
 who have the power of turning on the water-works at 
 any moment. '* Tears, idle tears." Tears which fall 
 easily and for no adequate cause. We do not respect 
 them, but there is no genuine emotion at their back. 
 There arc men who will swear to you eternal friendship. 
 You would think these men's feelings were at the 
 boiling point, but when }'ou ask them to back their 
 emotion with one hundred dollars, you find that their 
 emotion is of no use whatever. That is the reason 
 why emotion has got a bad name. 
 
 * But believe me, ladies and gentlemen, nothing 
 good and true was ever carried out in this world with- 
 out emotion. The power of emotion, ay, of emotion 
 through music, on politics and patriotism ; the power 
 of emotion, ay, emotion through music upon religion 
 and morals — that, in a nutshell, will be the remainder 
 of my discourse. What does a statesman do when he 
 wants to carry a great measure through our Parlia- 
 ment or your House of Representatives ? He stands 
 
 I' 2 
 
 ii 
 
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 t ,H 
 
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 212 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 i^ r 
 
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 up and says, " I want to pass this law," but nobody 
 will attend to him in Parliament. Then he goes 
 stumping through the country ; he goes to the people 
 and explains his measure to them, and at last he gets 
 the whole country in a ferment, and then he comes 
 back to Parliament or to Congress and says : " Gentle- 
 men, have you seen the newspapers ? — you see, the 
 people will have it. Their voice is as the voice of 
 many waters. It is as the roaring of the ocean, and 
 as irresistible." And the government cannot oppose 
 a law which has the emotional feeling of the country 
 at the back of it, and so the law is passed. 
 
 ' Why, I remember in your great civil war that 
 Mr. Lincoln said that Henry Ward Beecher was the 
 greatest motive power he had in the North. (Great 
 applause.) And why ? Because he would go into a 
 meeting packed with Southerners or with advocates 
 of slavery and disunion, and leave that meeting roar- 
 ing for the liberation of the slaves and the preser- 
 vation of the Union. (Applause.) That was the 
 power of emotion. And I remember very well, be- 
 cause I was in Italy at the time, how when Garibaldi 
 came there at last to conquer — that was the third 
 or fourth time he had come over at intervals to en- 
 gage his people in the great fight for the freedom of 
 Italy ; he devoted his life to that mission — that he 
 fired the people with patriotism, and it was nothing 
 but the steam power of feeling and emotion which 
 carried that great revolution for a united Italy. It 
 may be true that Victor Emmanuel was the brain and 
 gave it its constitutional element, but it was Garibaldi 
 who aroused the great emotional feeling, and Italy 
 became united because he lived and fought, ay, and 
 fell. 
 
body 
 
 goes 
 
 eople 
 
 ; gets 
 
 ;omes 
 
 entle- 
 
 e, the 
 
 ice of 
 
 1, and 
 
 )ppose 
 
 3untry 
 
 tr that 
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 aly. It 
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 ay, and 
 
 le 
 
 Chicago 
 
 NATIONAL MUSIC AND EMOTION 
 
 213 
 
 ' And now for the connection between the national 
 music and emotion. There has seldom been a great 
 crisis in a nation's history without some appropriate 
 tune, hymn or march, which rouses the emotion of the 
 people. Well I remember Garibaldi's hymn. It ex- 
 pressed the essence of the Italian movement. Look 
 at all your patriotic songs. Look at 
 
 "John Brown's body is a-mouldering in the ground, 
 But his soul is marching on." 
 
 PATRIOTISM IN MUSIC 
 
 * I say, then, the feeling and action of a country 
 passes into its music. There is the power of emotion 
 through music upon politics and patriotism. I re- 
 member when Wagner, as a very young man, came over 
 to England and studied our national anthems. He said 
 that the whole of the British character lay in the first 
 two bars of "Rule Britannia." It goes: (Here the 
 reverend gentleman gave an imitation of the movement 
 of England's great national song.) It means, " Get out 
 of the way ; make room for me." It is John Bull elbow- 
 ing through the crowd. (Laughter and applause.) 
 
 * And so your "Star-spangled Banner" has kindled 
 so much unity and patriotism. The profoundly 
 religious nature of the Germans and Austrians comes 
 forth in their hymns, such as " God save the Emperor." 
 Our " God save the Queen " strikes the same note in 
 a different way as " Rule Britannia " — 
 
 " Confound her enemies, . . . 
 Frustrate their knavish tricks " — 
 
 
 
 'iM 
 
 \'hv 
 
 ' .1 
 
 i 
 
 I II si 
 
 \ ■ 1; 
 
 
 h 
 
214 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 that is, in the same spirit as " Get out of the way," 
 and is enshrined in the British national anthem. This 
 shows the connection between emotion and music in 
 politics and patriotism. It explains the wisdom of 
 that statesman who said : " Let who will make the 
 laws of a people ; let me make their songs." 
 
 ' I see another gentleman is in charge of the topic 
 " Religion and Music," but it is quite impossible for 
 me to entirely exclude religion from my address to- 
 day, or the power of emotion through music upon 
 religion and through religion upon morals, for religion 
 is that thing which kindles and makes operative 
 and irresistible the sway of the moral nature. It is 
 impossible, with this motto, " Music, Emotion, and 
 Religion " for my text, to exclude the consideration 
 of the effect of music upon religion. I read that our 
 Lord and His disciples, at a time when all words failed 
 them and when their hearts were heavy, when all had 
 been said and all had been done at that last supper 
 — I read that, after they had stifi(^ a Jiynm, our Lord 
 and the disciples went out into the Mount of Olives. 
 After Paul and Silas had been beaten and thrust into 
 a noisome dungeon they forgot their pain and humilia- 
 tion and sang songs, spiritual psalms in the night, and 
 the prisoners heard them. I read in the history of 
 the Christian Church, when the great creative and 
 adaptive genius of Rome took possession of that 
 mighty spiritual movement and proceeded to evan- 
 gelise the Roman Empire, that St. Ambrose, Bishop 
 of Milan in the third century, collected the Greek 
 modes and adapted certain of them for the Christian 
 Churches, and that these scales were afterwards revived 
 by the great Pope Gregory, who gave in the Gre- 
 gorian chants the first elements of emotion interpreted 
 by music which appeared in the Christian Church. 
 
H 
 
 u 
 
 ay. 
 
 This 
 ic in 
 Ti of 
 ; the 
 
 topic 
 
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 >s to- 
 
 upon 
 
 ligion 
 
 rative 
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 ration 
 
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 all had 
 
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 r Lord 
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 Chicago 
 
 GREGORIAN CHANTS IN ENGLAND 
 
 2IS 
 
 ' It is difficult for us to over-estimate the power 
 of those crude modes, for they seem harsh to our 
 ears. It is difficult to realise the effisct produced by 
 Augustine and his monks, when they landed in 
 Britain, chanting the ancient Gregorian chants. When 
 the king gave his partial adherence to the mission of 
 Augustine, the saint turned from his presence and 
 directed his course toward Canterbury, of which he was 
 to be the first Archbishop. 
 
 ' And still, as he went along with his monks, they 
 chanted one of the Gregorian chants. That was his 
 war cry : (intoning) 
 
 ' " Turn away, O Lord, Thy wrath from this city, 
 and Thine anger from its sin." 
 
 ' That is a true Gregorian ; those are the very 
 words of Augustine. 
 
 * And time would fail me to remind you of both 
 the passive and active functions of music in the 
 sanctuary — passive when the people sit still and hear 
 sweet anthems ; active when they break out into 
 hymns of praise. Shall I speak of the great com- 
 fort which the Church owes to Luther, who stood 
 up in his carriage as he approached the city of 
 Worms and sang his hymn, " Ein' feste Burg ist unser 
 Gott " ? Shall I tell you of others who have solaced 
 their lonely hours by singing hymns, and how at 
 times hymn singing in the church was almost all the 
 religion that the people had ? The poor Lollards, 
 when afraid of preaching their doctrine, still sang, and 
 throughout the country the poor and uneducated 
 people, if they could not understand the subtleties of 
 
 1 
 
 
 ' I 
 
 
 'i:' 
 
 i 
 
2l6 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 theological doctrine, still could sing praise and make 
 melody in their hearts. I remember how much I was 
 affected in passing through a little Welsh village some 
 time ago at night, in the solitude of the Welsh hills, 
 as I saw a light in a cottage, and as I came near I 
 heard the voices of the children singing : 
 
 *' Jesu, lover of my soul, 
 Let me to Thy bosom fly.' 
 
 And I thought how those little ones had gone to 
 school and had learned this hymn and had come home 
 to evangelise their remote cottage and lift up the 
 hearts of their parents with the love of Jesus. Why, 
 the effects of a good hymn are incalculable. Wesley 
 and Whitfield, and the great hymn writers of the 
 last century, and the sacred laureate of the High 
 Church party, Keble, have all known and exercised 
 the power of religious song. 
 
 M 
 
 LET THE PEOPLE SING 
 
 ' Here let me speak a word to the clergy especi- 
 ally, if there are such present. Make your services 
 congregational, and don't let the organist " do " the 
 people out of the hymns. Don't let him gallop them 
 through them with his trained choir. Remind him 
 that he has his time with the anthems and the volun- 
 taries, and that, when the hymns come, it is the 
 people's innings, and fair play is a jewel. (Laughter 
 and applause.) Hymns have an enormous power in 
 knitting together the religious feelings. I never 
 was more struck than on entering Exeter Hall 
 one time when Messrs. Moody and Sankey were 
 ruling the roost there. What did Mr. Moody do? 
 He knew his business. He sent an unobtrusive look- 
 
Chicago 
 
 217 
 
 lake 
 was 
 omc 
 hills, 
 2ar 1 
 
 le to 
 home 
 p the 
 Why, 
 Lesley 
 )f the 
 High 
 ircised 
 
 ispeci- 
 irviccs 
 
 " the 
 
 them 
 id him 
 Ivolun- 
 
 is the 
 [.ughter 
 )wer in 
 
 never 
 
 Ir Hall 
 
 were 
 
 ly do? 
 \e look- 
 
 ing lady to the harmonium, and she began a hymn. 
 There were only a few people in the hall, but others 
 kept dropping in and they joined in the hymn ; and 
 by the time they had got through on the twenty-fifth 
 or thirtieth verse the whole of the hall was in full 
 cry. They were warmed up and enthusiastic, and 
 then in comes Mr. Moody, and he would play upon 
 that vast crowd like an old fiddle. Believe me, that 
 emotion through music is a great power in vitalising 
 and cementing and unifying the religious aspirations 
 of a large mixed congregation. 
 
 * I now approach the last clause of my discourse. 
 We have discovered the elements of music. Modern 
 music has been three or four hundred years in exist- 
 ence, and that is about the time that every art has 
 taken to be thoroughly explored. After that, all its 
 elements have been discovered ; there is no more to 
 be discovered, properly speaking, and all that remains 
 is to apply it to the use, consolation and elevation of 
 mankind. We have reached that era of music, we 
 
 It is difficult to 
 
 are 
 
 living in 
 
 the " golden age." 
 
 imagine anything more complicated than Wagner's 
 score of " Parsival," or the score of the " Trilogy." We 
 have all these wondrous resources of the sound art 
 placed at the disposal of humanity for the first time. 
 But there is a boundless future in store for music. Wc 
 have not half explored its powers for good. 
 
 MUSIC CONTROLS AND PACIFIES EMOTION 
 
 ' I say, let the people have bands. Cultivate music 
 in the home ; harmonise crowds with music. Let it 
 be more and more the solace and burden lifter of 
 humanity ; and, above all, let us learn that music is 
 
 '"f 
 
 i; 
 
 h '■ I 
 
3l8 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 not only a consolation, it not only has the power of 
 expressing emotion, of exciting emotion, but also 
 the power of disciplining, controlling and purifying 
 emotion. When you listen to a great symphony of 
 Beethoven, you undergo a process of divine restraint. 
 Music is an immortal benefactor because it illustrates 
 the law of emotional restraint. 
 
 * There is a grand future for music. Let it be 
 noble, and it will also be restrained. When y 
 listen to a symphony by Beethoven you place yo> 
 selves in the hands of the great master. You hold 
 your breath in one place and let it out in another ; 
 you now have to give way in one place and then you 
 have to control in another ; it strikes the whole gamut 
 of human feeling, from glow and passion down to 
 severe composure of restraint. 
 
 * It seems to me, indeed, that music, the latest 
 born and the most spiritual of the arts, has been given 
 to us in this most materialistic and sceptical age 
 to remind us of the mystic realities and depth? f 
 our nature, for it is in listening to the sublim 
 tender or ineffable strains of music that we are lifted 
 out of ourselves, we move about in worlds not realised, 
 wc have heard the songs of the angels, " we have seen 
 white Presences amongst the hills." 
 
 ' " Hence, too, in a season of calm weather, 
 Though inland far we be. 
 Our souls have sight of that immortal sea 
 Which brought us hither. 
 Can in a moment travel thither 
 And see the children sport upon the shore, 
 And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore." 
 
 * (The rev. gentleman returned to his seat amidst 
 loud and prolonged applause.) * 
 
Chicago 
 
 219 
 
 ir of 
 also 
 fying 
 ny of 
 raint. 
 irates 
 
 it be 
 
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 yo. 
 
 I hold 
 other ; 
 :n you 
 gamut 
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 latest 
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 al age 
 
 th? f 
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 alised, 
 
 ve seen 
 
 lore." 
 I amidst 
 
 LI 
 
 TiiK Chicago Exhhhtion.- Butthe Great Fair 
 seemed to beckon me. 
 
 Tennyson in his Cambridge prize poem on 
 * Timbuctoo ' imagines the Genius of Fable conjuring 
 up before the poet's eye a Uiiry city of transcendent 
 beauty, glittering minarets, and ranged towers and 
 walls ofdazzling marble, shining bulwarks, and golden 
 domes ; but as the Genius vanishes, the charm is 
 dissolved, and the mystic city, which is but the fabric 
 of a dream, fades away. So it has been with that 
 colossal and apparently indestructible white city 
 which in 1893 stood seven miles from Chicago, mir- 
 rored in the limpid lagoons fed by the waters of Lake 
 Michigan. Those parapets and embankments so 
 subtly counterfeiting hewn stone were but stucco ; those 
 stately buildings and Corinthian colonnades, combin- 
 ing the features of the Parthenon, the Vatican and 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, and ah '>st rivalling them in scale 
 and elaboration, were but pamted board, canvas, and 
 whitewash ; but the illusion, whilst it lasted, was 
 complete. For the first time in the history of exhibi- 
 tions (since the Glass Palace of 185 1) a unity of archi- 
 tectural plan was adopted and with unprecedented 
 results. Each mass was entrusted to a different 
 architect and landscape gardener : one charged with 
 the Administration building, with its colossal dome, 
 which shone like alabaster when aglow with elec- 
 tricity at night ; another with the stately Agricul- 
 tural block facing the manufactures and arts with their 
 ranged colonnades and divided by the lagoon, at one 
 
 
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 i.': 
 
 "1: 
 
 <; . ,, 
 
 ■ i< 
 
'■.V 
 
 
 I 'I 
 
 220 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 end of which rose out of the water the immense gilt 
 statue of Liberty — and so on throughout the State 
 buildings. Hat the architects met in conclave, and 
 produced a combined work in which each contributed 
 his own to a monumental city in which all might find 
 their common glory. Two years sufficed to transform 
 swamps into lakes nine feet deep, and heap up wooded 
 islands which rivalled Nature's wildest solitudes. Let 
 me try and give an impressionist couj? d'a:il of a day 
 at the World's Fair — a day most sensational on ac- 
 count of its strange and almost cataclysmic ending. 
 
 I* 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 
 LII 
 
 A Day at the Fair.— I enter the show by the 
 * Plaisance,' a wide thoroughfare over a mile long 
 leading to the woman's building. On either side 
 stand booths, inclosures, beer gardens, and foreign 
 villages. I grapple with the Chinese theatre, in which 
 the only thing intelligible is the costumes, which are 
 gorgeous beyond description — the other part is not 
 worth describing. The artificial squeaky voices, the 
 painted mask-like faces, the to us meaningless strut- 
 ting about, the interminable din of gongs, drums, and 
 pipes. It is a relief to get out. 
 
 * The Brazilian dancing girls ' sounds attractive. I 
 peer into a stuffy log cabin — tired-looking negresses in 
 red and blue gyrating round their bored black swains, 
 to the thrumming of Spanish guitars — ten cents hardly 
 well spent ! 
 
 But the colossal Ferris wheel now rises in front of 
 me, dividing the Plaisance. It has a diameter of 300 
 feet. You sit in a car on the revolving circumference, 
 
Chicago 
 
 221 
 
 egilt 
 State 
 , and 
 butcd 
 .t find 
 sform 
 ooded 
 . Let 
 a day 
 on ac- 
 iing. 
 
 by the 
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 foreign 
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 ich are 
 
 is not 
 Ices, the 
 |s strut- 
 
 s, and 
 
 :tive. I 
 tesses in 
 swains, 
 hardly 
 
 I front of 
 |r of 300 
 
 iference, 
 
 and as the wheel goes round, up you go and gaze 
 down from the dizzy height on a street in Cairo, 
 Pompeii, old Vienna, and the whole panorama of 
 palatial buildings and lagoons, and far out into the 
 ocean-like Lake Michigan. I felt no sensation 
 whatever. A poor gentleman, however, who went up 
 on the same day, lost his head almost at once. He 
 sprang up and shouted aloud, then flew at the bars of 
 his cage, and was for pitching himself out. He 
 could not be controlled, and the guard tried to 
 stop after the first revolution. But the inexorable 
 wheel went on. Then a lady with singular presence 
 of mind whipped off her skirt, and suddenly clapped 
 it over the temporary lunatic's head, which sobered 
 him effectually till, to the relief of everyone, his wheel 
 of torture stopped. 
 
 As the bane of all big and diffused shows 
 lies in that one word ' over-fatigue,' I soon mounted 
 a chair and passed many a State building full of 
 characteristic produce. My guide and propeller 
 was a young German student of good education 
 but imperfectly acquainted with English and the 
 topography of the exhibition. As he walked very 
 slowly, stopped frequently, reckoned his hour at about 
 three-quarters, and refused to speak German which I 
 could understand, whilst rejoicing in a perfectly un- 
 intelligible English, ' put me out,' I said, ' at the 
 Columbus caravels.' 
 
 There, hard by the Casino, they lay moored and 
 manned, strange topheavy pre- Reformation craft of 
 the date of our good King Henry VH., and Ferdinand 
 and Isabella of deathless renown, exact reproductions 
 of the three frail barques in which the great Italian 
 
 \l 
 
 
 iii 
 
 
 :i 
 
222 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 navigator put to sea to find a new world— his own 
 boat is only partially decked. There stands close by, 
 an exact reproduction of the monastery at the door 
 of which the neglected and dispirited Columbus 
 knocked, and sought and found hospitality, and in the 
 good abbot an enlightened and sympathetic listener, 
 who believed his tale and brought his speculations 
 to the ears of the great Queen Isabella, afterwards 
 Columbus's steadfast friend. 
 
 I grieve that I had no time to inspect the Columbus 
 relics. I passed to the woman's building which has 
 created such a sensation throughout America. It was 
 the latest commentary on woman's work. Her wood 
 work, iron work, needle work, art work, educational 
 work is displayed in long galleries upstairs and down. 
 
 The building with its lofty refreshment rooms 
 atop was also the refuge of exhausted women through- 
 out the day. In the side rooms, all open to the 
 passage, I noticed helpless bodies lying prostrate on 
 every sofa, careless of appearances, worn out with 
 heat and tramping. The only things completely 
 inadequate for the 200,000 or more who latterly 
 attended the Fair daily were the refreshment and rest 
 departments. At midday those who had not brought 
 food simply fought, and then paid heavily for what 
 they captured ; orange cider and German beer were 
 however, plentiful, but to the faint and famished, most 
 lacking in substance. 
 
 A good many people were deterred from going 
 into the Beauty Show (typical women of the world 
 in characteristic dress), fearing to meet with vulgarity. 
 The very same people thronged to see the degrading 
 Eastern stomach-dances, which for dullness and 
 
 K 
 
Chicago 
 
 223 
 
 own 
 ;c by, 
 do(ir 
 mbus 
 n the 
 tener, 
 itions 
 wards 
 
 ambus 
 ch has 
 It was 
 r wood 
 ational 
 . down. 
 
 rooms 
 irough- 
 
 to the 
 rate on 
 
 t with 
 
 pletely 
 llattcrly 
 
 .nd rest 
 
 irought 
 r what 
 r were 
 
 :d, most 
 
 indecency exceeded anything of the kind I have 
 ever seen even in Morocco. The Beauty Show, on 
 the other hand, was absolutely modest, and the young 
 ladies were perfectly decorous, though here and there 
 a maiden who thought she was being unduly stared 
 at would occasionally make herself merry at the 
 expense of her admirer until he retired abashed. 
 The palm was of course borne off by the European 
 and American beauties, but that is perhaps because 
 our eye is not trained to admire Choctaws and 
 I^aps. Fenimore Cooper and Longfellow between 
 them have done a good deal for the wild Indian, but 
 I draw the line, with all due deference to those 
 distinguished writers, at the Sioux belle. In be- 
 holding the expressive and somewhat sinister counte- 
 nance of the Sioux belle, even when she wore her 
 sweetest smile, I could understand how proficient the 
 ladies of her tribe may become in torturing the 
 prisoners after the fight, and perhaps cooking them 
 after the torture. 
 
 It is not my purpose to describe those splendid 
 coups iVccil which remind one of Athens restored 
 and old Rome in the days of Augustus rolled 
 together. This was splendidly done at the time by 
 the Illustrateds of the period. I hasten to record 
 the closing catastrophe of my most memorable day 
 at the World's Fair. 
 
 V 
 
 r 
 
 going 
 le world 
 ilgarity. 
 [grading 
 Iss and 
 
 LIII 
 
 A Sensation. — In the low light the colonnades 
 and temples glowed like silver jewels against the pale 
 warm blue of the evening sky ; the sun nevertheless 
 
i 
 
 224 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 had gone down behind an angry red and purple cloud. 
 We entered a Httle electric launch on the grand 
 canal which divided the Agricultural from the Arts 
 building. The air seemed cooler, but most delicious. 
 We sped under the Rialto bridges, beside the 
 Electrical building. The canals were alive with small 
 steam craft and gondolas. On we glided beside the 
 magic islands, home of the wild duck and the multi- 
 tudinous screaming sparrows going to roost. At the 
 entrance to the broad waters of Lake Michigan our 
 little launch turns round. Hardier steamers push 
 out into the lake. The breeze is freshening, crisping 
 wavelets begin to invade the quiet Exhibition waters. 
 The sun has set suddenly ; the white moon rises, but 
 the air is growing purple-dark. As we return to 
 the Grand Canal myriads of lights break out along 
 the banks, the magic isles are also all aglow with 
 many-coloured lamps ; presently the whole range of 
 palatial buildings is outlined with points of electric 
 flame, whilst gigantic search lights illumine now one 
 pinnacle or dome, now another, then flash out upon 
 the lagoons and vanish. I look up and notice an 
 inky black cloud across the moon. Dense masses of 
 human beings throng the shores of the Grand Canal 
 and pour from every State building. Into the midst 
 of the canal now floats boat after boat full of chorus 
 singers and coloured lanterns ; one mimic brig with 
 black sails like the Flying Dutchman, and all ablaze 
 with crimson fire, comes sailing majestically down 
 upon us ; a cornet on board plays lustily popular 
 melodies that ring out and re-echo from distant 
 glimmering palaces outlined with electricity. The 
 procession of Chinese lantern-hung boats passes 
 out of the Grand Canal. Suddenly ten thousand 
 
 I 
 
 A , 
 
Chicago 
 
 225 
 
 jets leap up from the great fountain at the end of the 
 great basin, the diamond spray is shot with emerald, 
 ruby, opaline and saffron hues that melt one into the 
 other — a silence seems to fall on the dense crowd that 
 has gathered on every available space and foothold 
 around the water and in front of the palaces. 
 
 A cold wind ruffles the lake, and shakes the 
 swinging lanterns. There is a distant rumble of 
 thunder, unregarded. 
 
 The inky cloud has blotted out the moon. The 
 crowds are still motionless, absorbed by the gor- 
 geousness of the fairy scene before them. TL":; 
 search light rests upon the giant figure of Liberty, 
 which blazes out golden against the white electrici- 
 ties playing around. The notes of the cornet ring 
 out and die away. The palaces shine like blocks of 
 transparent alabaster in the night. . . . 
 
 What is this .-* A spot of rain ! — unregarded — a 
 vagrant puff of wind — unregarded — then a sudden 
 glare and an appalling crash, a deafening roar from the 
 crowd, and before we have time to turn, the whole 
 scene is enveloped in a cyclone of whirling dust, and a 
 deluge of rain, pelting, stinging rain, hail, and slcct, 
 descend upon 200,000 densely packed human beings. 
 
 The boats on the lake are tossed and torn. I was 
 amongst the first to gain shelter under a colonnade. 
 The scene I witnessed I shall never forget. Through 
 the fog of rain and dust, terrified groups fled hither and 
 thither like flying squadrons in the smoke of a battle. 
 The artillery of the skies mingled with the musket-like 
 rattle of pelting hail and rain on that strange summer 
 night ! 
 
 One deafening peal, and a zigzag forked flash 
 VOL. 1 (2 
 
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 HM^ 
 
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 w 
 
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 li 
 
 
 
 226 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 that struck the earth not a stone's throw from where 
 I stood, and the fog seemed to roll away suddenly. 
 Where were the crowds ? Not a soul was to be seen. 
 The electric lights shone over vacant spaces and a de- 
 serted lake. Nothing but the elements could have 
 wrought such a miracle of dispersal in about two 
 minutes. 
 
 We were huddled away under colonnades and in 
 all available vestibules. Women screamed and fainted 
 at every peal of thunder as the pressure increased. I 
 kept on the edge of the crowd. There we stood, and 
 for an hour the downpour was steady. When at last 
 we stept out we were ankle deep in water. So we 
 waded to the intramural railway. Water, water every- 
 where. The cars were deluged ; we hurried in wher- 
 ever we could, and we stood in water, drenched to the 
 skin ; but the night, that had turned chill before the 
 storm, now grew warm again, and we were nearly 
 boiled with steam before we got out, still seven miles 
 from Chicago city, to find a drenched but welcome 
 carriage waiting to drive us home. 
 
 That night, one of the palatial roofs was blown 
 in ; the water soaked through the apparently solid 
 stucco, canvas, and board, that stood for marble and 
 stone ; the fairy city sprang a leak in a thousand 
 places. It seemed the beginning of the end of the 
 dream, and the elements in all their fearful and 
 inexorable reality, charged with destruction, revealed 
 the flimsy and perishable character of this fabulously 
 beautiful city, proclaiming aloud in thunder the 
 untimely fading of a vision as dream-like, but far 
 from as profitless, as the poet's illusory city of 
 Timbuctoo. 
 
 Ii 
 
icre 
 :nly. 
 ;een. 
 I de- 
 have 
 two 
 
 nd in 
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 d. I 
 i, and 
 Lt last 
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 svery- 
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 nearly 
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 slcome 
 
 blown 
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 vealed 
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 city of 
 
 Chicago 
 
 227 
 
 I am well aware that these monstrous industrial 
 exhibitions do not usher in the reign of universal 
 peace any more than a parliament of religions will 
 insure the union of churches. The great Exhibition 
 of 1 85 1 was followed by the Crimean war, the great 
 Paris Exhibition by the Franco-Prussian war, and the 
 Parliament of Religions has been followed by a snub 
 administered by the Reformed Church to the Mother 
 Church of Rome. But incalculable good has been 
 wrought by both the sacred and the secular demon- 
 strations at Chicago. 
 
 The Chicago palace brought home with crushing 
 force the enormous interests involved in any serious 
 breach of the peace between great peoples, especially 
 those bound together by community of blood and 
 language. And the Chicago Parliament of Religions 
 brought out with intense and popular distinctness the 
 great truth that God has never left Himself without 
 a witness, and that there never was and never could 
 be but one religion, which all the religions of the world 
 were so many attempts to realise and formulate, as 
 Tennyson has it — 
 
 ' They are but broken lights of Thee, 
 And Thou, O Lord, art more than they.' 
 
 LIV 
 
 Some other Exhibitions. — With the glories of 
 the Chicago World's Fair fresh in our minds, it may 
 not be uninteresting to look back at the rise and pro- 
 gress of the industrial exhibition theory and practice at 
 home and abroad. We may say that we have arrived 
 at the centenary of such enterprises, as the first 
 
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 1 [ 
 
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 H! 
 
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228 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 1^.1 
 
 serious attempt to realise the idea dates back to 1797. 
 Of course the International Exhibition in Hyde Park 
 1 85 1 gave the new impulse which has been pregnant 
 with such mighty results. Prince Albert's name is 
 inseparably connected with the rise and progress of 
 vast industrial exhibitions in England, but the inter- 
 national and cosmopolitan element alone is peculiar 
 to the conception of the Anglo-German Prince. The 
 spectacular alliance of art and commerce — the poetry 
 of industry, the beauty of labour embodied in a show 
 — is distinctly of French origin. It dates from the 
 }'ear VI (1797) of the French Republic, and is, strange 
 to say, the direct offspring of the Napoleonic wars. 
 So late as the year 1844 the aged Marquis d'Aveze, 
 who had weathered the Reign of Terror (1793) and 
 been a useful servant of the Republic, published a 
 \ery curious account of the first two Industrial 
 Exhibitions at Paris in 1797 and 1798. The Marquis 
 and his exploits have been long since forgotten, and 
 perhaps few of those who flocked to the 185 1 Exhibi- 
 tion, or who nightly frequented the Healtherics at 
 South Kensington, were aware that the idea of these 
 ranged galleries and trophies, with all their glittering 
 works of art and industry, first rose in the brain of a 
 P>cnch marquis who narrowly escaped the guillotine. 
 D'Aveze had no sooner organised his first industrial 
 exhibition of SHtcs china and Gobelin tapestry at 
 St. Cloud in 1 797 than he was forced to fly, * proscribed ' 
 with the rest of the P^rench nobility who had the 
 impertinence to retain their titles and their heads. 
 
 The Marquis had somehow been appointed com- 
 missioner of arts, but had found the art industries 
 of his country utterly depressed and at their very 
 lowest ebb. The only things that spun in the Gobelin 
 
and 
 xhibi- 
 ics at 
 these 
 teriiig 
 n of a 
 lotine. 
 ustrial 
 try at 
 ribed ' 
 d the 
 Ids. 
 
 com- 
 
 ustries 
 
 r very 
 
 obehn 
 
 Chicago 229 
 
 looms were spiders. The exhibition which he 
 organised, in which special attention was given to 
 tapestries, struck the note of revival. The following 
 year Napoleon's attention was arrested by the work 
 of his able, but now banished, commissioner. The 
 First Consul was not a man to stick at trifles. He 
 seized upon the art exhibition scheme with the decision 
 and rapidity of a skilled campaigner. Industries must 
 be revived ; home producers must be encouraged. 
 Napoleon at once ordered all English goods through- 
 out France to be burned, advanced 21 millions to the 
 French industries, and recalling the Marquis d'Avczc, 
 installed him as special director of the 1798 Paris 
 Exhibition, which was a great step in advance of the 
 St. Cloud collection, and embraced Bpule cabinets, 
 Leroy clocks, Angoulcme porcelain, Lyons silks, and 
 a collection of pictures by Vincent, David, &c. 
 
 Meanwhile, crowds collected in the streets to 
 witness one of the most extraordinary' pageants that 
 even Paris had ever witnessed. Twenty-nine chariots 
 full of Napoleonic spoils passed tlirough the principal 
 thoroughfares of the city. The Capitol and the Vatican 
 had been gutted ; even Venice had not escaped. These 
 trophies were borne in procession. The bronze gilt 
 horses of immemorial antiquity, which stood in front 
 of San Marco, the Dying Gladiator, the Nine Muses, 
 the Cupid and Psyche, the Apollo Belvedere, the 
 Laocoon, and last, but not least, Raffaelle's great 
 picture of the Transfiguration. The procession was 
 in itself an art education for the people. Of course 
 most of these priceless treasures have since been 
 restored to their rightful owners. 
 
 The Temple of Industry in the Champ de Mars, 
 
 i 
 
 'fi' 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 
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 i " 
 
 iiil 
 
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 u 
 
230 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 f 
 
 M 
 
 with its open invitation to contributors, its jury of 
 science and art, its twenty silver medals and one of 
 gold, marks the next stage in the history of exhibitions. 
 It opened up the provinces ; Jkussels, Liege, Rouen, 
 and other towns for the first time contributing. Be- 
 tween the Republican reign of terror and the reckless 
 slaughter of the Imperial campaigns these pacific 
 displays under the First Consul seem to fall like 
 gleams of sunshine between two devastating storms. 
 Some years later Spain made no less than five mild 
 attempts at industrial exhibition with almost ludicrous 
 results. In 1827-28-3 1-4 1-45 the old Convent of 
 the Trinity at Madrid was utilised for the purpose, 
 l^arcelona (the Spanish Manchester) and Madrid 
 contributing between thcin nearly the whole of the 
 collection, which consisted mainly of linen, woollen 
 goods, leather, and pottery. In these exhibitions it 
 was remarked as indicative of the decay alike of 
 mental activity and ancient handicraft that there was 
 nut a single specimen of printing, and hardly any of 
 the cabinet work for which Spain was once so famous. 
 About 1 84 1 the revival of Continental trade began in 
 Belgium, and a great exhibition was organised at 
 Tournai, displaying the carpets of that town and the 
 laces of Malines, Ypres, and Bruges, which employ 
 60,000 women. Liege, famous for its cannon foundry, 
 organised the metallurgical section ; and the prizes 
 were given by the King and Queen in person. 
 
 And here it should be mentioned, that although 
 for several reasons, chiefly insular, the industries of 
 Ireland have not had that widespread influence which 
 they deserved, Ireland has always, since as long ago 
 as 1723, been alive to the importance of industrial 
 
y of 
 c of 
 ions. 
 >ucn, 
 Be- 
 kless 
 acific 
 like 
 orms. 
 mild 
 crous 
 :nt of 
 rpose, 
 laclrid 
 of the 
 ooUcn 
 ions it 
 ike of 
 Ire was 
 any of 
 imous. 
 gan in 
 scd at 
 nd the 
 mploy 
 )undry, 
 prizes 
 
 though 
 ;ries of 
 which 
 ng ago 
 dustrial 
 
 Chicago 
 
 231 
 
 collections. From 1723 up to 1850 the Royal Dublin 
 Society has steadily organised a display of its home 
 products on a small scale, classifying them as raw 
 material, manufactured, and machinery. It was not 
 until 1850 that Ireland thought it advisable to invite 
 English competition. But the most important im- 
 pulse in this direction came again in France after a 
 partial paralysis of nearly forty years. The extreme 
 dullness of Louis Philippe's reign was relieved in 1844 
 by a great show in the Carre Marigny. The magic 
 structure designed by Moreau rose complete in seventy 
 days. There were 3,960 exhibitors, and the whole of 
 the centre was occupied with the largest collection of 
 machinery that had ever been seen. The * comet- 
 seeker ' telescope, which in a moment could be turned 
 to any part of the heavens ; the oil-colour grinding 
 machine, with its three cylinders ; the distillation 
 apparatus for making sea water fit to drink ; the 
 loom which wove two shawls of different patterns at 
 the same time, and then cut them neatly asunder — 
 the self-acting floating whistle which warned the 
 engineer when the boiler required refilling — such 
 objects making a direct popular appeal to popular 
 attention gave that attractive stamp to the Paris Ex- 
 hibition of 1844 which has marked every succeeding 
 effort of the kind. 
 
 In 1849 a similar exhibition was opened in Paris 
 on a vaster scale. The building, in the shape cf a 
 quadrangle filled with lawns and flower beds, was 
 composed of 45,000 pieces of timber, and roofed with 
 4,000 tons of zinc. The internal decoration — iron 
 painted to imitate wood, false medallions and sham 
 mullions in the Italian style — were much and ad- 
 versely criticised by Digby Wyatt, our architect, and 
 
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 '«jii' 
 
 )!i. 
 
232 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 others at the time, and French taste was as generally 
 decried as it iiad been extolled — on the whole not a 
 very unwholesome reaction. Ruskin was beginning to 
 be read in this country, and while much abused, his 
 influence was sufficiently conspicuous, though wholly 
 unacknowledged, in the Great Exhibition of 185 1. 
 
 ■ 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 \ m 
 
 In 1849, at IMrmingham, the Binglcy Hall was 
 completely filled by a vast free trade bazaar, which 
 suggested several features of the colossal show of 
 1 85 1. As early as 1844 Mr. Scott Russell tells us 
 that Prince Albert was casting about him for some 
 machinery capable of concentrating and displaying 
 on a gigantic scale the arts and industries of the 
 civilised world. The Society of Arts served him as a 
 practising ground. He soon found that London was 
 behind the provinces. His projects were at first 
 received with apathy. ' The public seemed indifferent,' 
 says Scott Russell, * the manufacturers lukewarm.' 
 In 1849 products of industry had to be dragged 
 almost by force from their warehouses, at the instance 
 of the Society of Arts ; and 20,000 people only could 
 be induced to go and look at them. 
 
 LV 
 
 PR I NX" E Aliiekt's Gen I us.— In 1S49 the times 
 seemed ripe. Thirty-six years had elapsed since the 
 Great Duke had brought to a close one of the most 
 desolating wars on record, leaving to the countr; a»' 
 enormous national debt and a bitter legacy o •'»• 
 national jealousy. But years of peace, soundci icws 
 of political and economic reform, the triumph of free 
 
Chicago 
 
 233 
 
 trv' ar 
 )i" free 
 
 trade, combined with irrcat improvements in aj:fricul- 
 ture, had ;^one far to revive trade and commerce, while 
 Prince Albert was intent ii[)on striking; a death-blow at 
 international animosities by assemblin^nn I I>(le Parle 
 the political disputants of ever)' ccnmtry under the sun. 
 Most of us can remember the shout of incredulous and 
 timid derision with which Prince Albert's proposal 
 was met. Overcrowded London would be smitten by 
 the placjue, revolution would be freely fomented by 
 unprincipled refugees, the Queen would be in immi- 
 nent danger, and the concern would certainly be 
 bankrupt. At last, after anxious consultation with 
 Sir Robert Peel and Mr. Labouchere on behalf of the 
 Government, Parliament was applied to for the use 
 of the park. Colonel Sibthorpc — the O'Gorman and 
 the Whalley in one, of that i)eriod — called on the 
 elements to wreck the impious <^lass house. I le 
 denounced the enormity of cuttin<j down half a dozen 
 trees which would block the centre — (a thousand had 
 been recently cut down in Kensington Gardens without 
 remark). Even Lord lirougham bullied the House 
 about shutting up 'the lungs of London.' But public 
 opinion was on the turn. The Government had a 
 good majority, and granted the site. From that 
 moment the Prince's tenacity of pur[)ose, infinite 
 resource, and ceaseless activity, combined with a cer- 
 tain rare self-repression and modesty, began to win the 
 respect and admiration of high and low. P""rom the 
 beginning his scheme in outline and detail seems to 
 have been marvellously complete. Lord Granville 
 s.iid he was the only person who fairly thought it out, 
 and that sagacious Earl and Mr. (Sir Stafford, after- 
 wards Earl of Iddesleigh) Northcotc were from the 
 beginning among his warmest supporters. In 1S49 
 
 I 
 
 (III 
 
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 r 
 
234 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 the Queen says, * The Prince's sleep is bad, he looks 
 very ill.' No wonder! That year he took no holiday. 
 He sat for hours at his bureau. All day lonj]j letters 
 and messengers arrived ceaselessly. The executive 
 committee seemed to depend, in the midst of what the 
 Prince called ' immeasurable difficulties,' upon his 
 one tireless brain and indomitable purpose. He had 
 able and practical advisers, no doubt— Cole, Cubitt, 
 F. Fuller, Scott Russell, and Joseph Paxton, who rose, 
 as the Queen admiringly said (and the Queen's own 
 part in sympathy and wifely instigation at this time 
 has never been sufficiently acknowledged), from 
 ' being a common gardener's boy,' and presented him 
 with an almost inspired plan for the building, which 
 rose in crystal flakes on its 25,000 hollow iron 
 columns, without the aid of scaffolding. As for 
 speed — the Government gave the site in 1850, and 
 the palace was opened in the spring of 185 1. 
 
 f 
 
 LVI 
 
 Thk CtRKAt Exhibition. — During the whole o( 
 that time the Prince was working at high pressure ; 
 nor were his labours lightened by the disturbed state of 
 foreign politics and the difficulties of advising the 
 Queen upon questions of a delicate political nature at 
 home. The va:- reach and importance of Prince 
 Albert's conception, perhaps, first dawned on the 
 country at large in 1850, when his famous speech at 
 the Mansion House was printed in all the newspapers. 
 As a model of condensed and dignified statement it 
 could not have been surpassed. It certainly revealed 
 the ma.ster mind of the undertaking, and from that 
 moment the name of Prince Albert has remained in 
 
 I 
 
Chicago 
 
 3oks 
 
 day. 
 ittcrs 
 utive 
 it the 
 1 his 
 I had 
 lubitt, 
 3 rose, 
 s own 
 s time 
 from 
 ;d him 
 which 
 kV iron 
 As for 
 JO, and 
 
 235 
 
 the popular imagination, as it deserves to be, indis- 
 sokibly associated with the greatest industrial epoch 
 of modern civilisation. King Leopold, when he read 
 the Prince's speech at the Mansion House, would 
 hardly believe that it had been spoken off; but it was 
 nevertheless admirably delivered. The Prince always 
 prepared his speeches most carefully, and wrote them 
 out. lie then delivered them freely without the aid of 
 a single note. 
 
 All foreign jealousies havingbeen composed, and the 
 endless difficulties of internal arrangement and decora- 
 tion, allotment of space &c. settled, a guarantee fund 
 of 200,000/. was organised. It was never wanted ; 
 for about that unparalleled .sum remained as a surplus 
 in the hands of the Royal Commissioners when all 
 the expen.ses were paid off at the clo.se of 185 i. 
 
 We are perhaps now a little blase with these great 
 shows. The taste for them has spread to New York, 
 Philadelphia, Munich, Vienna, and the colonies, while 
 several huge varieties of them have since been offered 
 us at Paris, Turin, and at South Kensington. But 
 the international spectacle of 1851 will always stand 
 out as unique on account of the singular devotedness 
 and ability of the man who projected it, his illustrious 
 position, the originality and splendour of his concep- 
 tion, and the happy completeness of its execution. 
 The genius and enterprise which called it forth were 
 not slow to originate the almost equally elaborate 
 scheme which has embodied in a permanent form its 
 general principle and aims at South Kensington. 
 
 Whilst the very glass and iron of 185 1 .shelters 
 annually the holiday masses whose welfare was so 
 dear to Prince Albert, the body of art and industry 
 
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 II 
 
 
 \^^ 
 
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i 
 
 I! 
 
 236 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 into which he breathed a new hfc Hves and moves at 
 South Kensington. It shows annual signs of asto- 
 nishing and beneficent vitah'ty in such collateral 
 ' evolutions ' and ' developments ' as the Fisheries and 
 the I Icaltheries, the Colinderics, the Naval Exhibition, 
 et id genus oiiine at home and abroad. 
 
 LVII 
 
 Collapse of Britlsh Phlegm.- -We are a 
 phlegmatic people -- so say foreigners — and we take 
 our pleasures sadl}'. We only take our fellow 
 creatures on sufferance. You ma)' notice any da)' 
 on a railway platform : a man of any age will 
 walk the whole length of the platform to find a per- 
 fcctl)' empty carriage. lie will then get in, and 
 when his fool's paradise is invaded by another equally 
 morose person, he will frown — both will then frown - 
 and probably travel for miles together in silence. 
 We like a house to ourselves. J^lats are beginning 
 to come in, not because we are sociable and like 
 meeting people by chance on a common staircase, 
 but because we are economical, and don't like paying 
 rates and taxes. 
 
 ' The Englishman's house is his castle ' is a phrase 
 which would not be understood in Japan, where you 
 can see through the chinks, and people bathe and are 
 all abroad day and night ; it is not very intelligible 
 even in Ceylon, Honolulu, or any climates where the 
 air is balmy, and doors and windows are open, and 
 walls are reedy and awnings tlappy and thin ; but in 
 these cold and foggy climes — to be snug and warm 
 and .secluded is the ideal of life. If we chatter in the 
 streets we get bronchitis ; and if we sit down, a chill 
 
Chicac.o 
 
 237 
 
 es at 
 asto- 
 iteral 
 s and 
 3ilion, 
 
 arc a 
 e take 
 
 fellow 
 ny day 
 vc NviH 
 \ a pcr- 
 in, and 
 
 equally 
 frown — 
 
 silence, 
 iginninijj 
 
 .nd lil«-' 
 Itaircasc, 
 
 nni 
 
 « pay- 
 
 la phrase 
 lieve you 
 and arc 
 ;clligiblc 
 rhere the 
 Ipen, and 
 ; but in 
 hd warm 
 cr in the 
 n, a chill 
 
 on the liver ; and if we forget our wraps, rheumatism 
 pounces upon us. 
 
 To such a people the conception of great build- 
 ings frequented by peripatetic crowds came with 
 the force of a new social revelation or revolution. 
 The people flocked to see the monstrous products, 
 but these soon became mere backgrounds for ices, 
 champagne, lemonade, sandwiches, and the afternoon 
 cup of tea, which, b}' the way, first came in between 
 the fifties and the sixties and has happily stayed 
 with us ever since. 
 
 Little groups at round tables — pleasant meetings 
 of friends, acquaintances, and lovers — the Exhibition 
 a pretext — all under cover too, whilst the rain 
 pattered on the glass roof — and all surrounded by 
 trees; shrubberies in the midst of which glimmered 
 white nymphs and classic warriors, and busts of the 
 great and good. Nowhere could the eye turn with- 
 out food for thought, conversation, and delight. 
 
 A big organ peals out, yonder the distant tinkle 
 of a grand piano on show, or a new patent somc- 
 thing-or-other-phone, and 'Waiter! sherry cobbler 
 for two ! ' — and after that let us go on board the 
 Victory, * marvel of naval reconstruction on dry latid ; ' 
 or into the long range of tent-like barns in which a 
 campaign, life size, is being conducted, ambulance, 
 wounded, and all, but which gives rather a couleny de 
 rose view of the terrible reality, everything being so 
 clean and the wounded looking so ha[)py and comfort- 
 able tucked up in ambulances, or being genially 
 operated upon by smiling surgeons. 
 
 But hark I the strains of a military band beneatli 
 an alcove entice us into the open air. Hundreds 
 are flocking out. Your likeness taken snap shot as 
 
 
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 V I ; 
 
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238 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 you pause and drop a penny in the slot by the way. 
 Hundreds of chairs are soon occupied — for once 
 the weather is soft and balmy, we might be in Paris. 
 How cheerful all the people look, John Bull and his 
 family ; and as the time for shutting up the shops 
 comes the young men and young women, who have 
 all day served behind the counter, flock into the show, 
 and after a visit to a different sort of counter, come 
 out refreshed, and behold with bright eyes and 
 wreathed smiles the kaleidoscopic scene, and hear 
 with enchantment the buoyant and light fantastic 
 strains of Herr Johann Strauss — his band. 
 
 I remember — it was the year of the Queen's Jubilee 
 — an unprecedented run of fine weather enabled these 
 outdoor entertainments to thrive ; crowds were nightly 
 attracted lo sit out and enjoy music, and after that 
 fireworks. I really believe that ten fine summers 
 running would go far to destroy the temperamental 
 moroseness and unsociable silence of the English 
 people. 
 
 It is because we don't see each other enough at 
 leisure times that we have nothing to say when we do 
 meet. It is the outdoor throngs, not the indoor 
 circles, which enable people to shake off unnatural 
 stiffness and unsociability ; but outdoor gatherings 
 mean climate genial, smiling blue skies and mild 
 soft air which may be inhaled without a respirator or 
 the use of an umbrella ; but the winter garden 
 promenade and restaurant element, without which no 
 industrial exhibition is now complete, has done much 
 and is doing more fo us, and the knowledge that out 
 of doors, weather permitting, there will be as much 
 amusement as indoors adds an attraction to our 
 
 
Chicago 
 
 239 
 
 way. 
 once 
 Paris, 
 id his 
 shops 
 » have 
 show, 
 come 
 s and 
 I hear 
 ntastic 
 
 Jubilee 
 
 :d these 
 
 nightly 
 
 ter that 
 
 ummers 
 
 amental 
 
 English 
 
 lough at 
 ;n we do 
 
 indoor 
 Innatural 
 itherings 
 [nd mild 
 lirator or 
 
 garden 
 Ivhich no 
 |ne much 
 
 that out 
 
 as much 
 to our 
 
 people's palaces and exhibitions which now make 
 Chelsea, South Kensington, Olympia, and all other 
 such sites of popular recreation formidable rivals to 
 the Champs-Elys^es, Cafe des Ambassadcurs, and all 
 the rest of them. 
 
 LVIII 
 
 Colour Art. — One feature of entertainment 
 which is now seldom wanting at these great shows has 
 always had a special interest for me ; and in ' Music and 
 Morals ' ( Book I . sec. 1 2) I have devoted some paragraphs 
 to it. I allude to the ' Colour Art ' as illustrated by fire- 
 work displays, and of late days by illuminated foun- 
 tains and skirt dancing a la Loie Fuller. From my 
 observations at the old Surrey Gardens, Cremorne, 
 South Kensington, the Crystal Palace, Paris and 
 Chicago, reaching over a space of more than forty 
 years, I can bear witness to the enormous improve- 
 ment in the use of colour, which with the new electric 
 appliances for tinting water jets through ruby, emerald, 
 saffron and other coloured glasses have laid the foun- 
 dation of that perfectly new and independent Colour 
 Art foreshadowed in my first book (1872). 
 
 I am glad to say that Mr. A. Wallace Rimington 
 has turned his attention to the subject and invented 
 a colour organ, which plays off colours on a disc for 
 the eye, just as a musician plays off notes for the ear. 
 I am also glad that Mr. Wallace Rimington, unlike 
 other people who take suggestions without acknow- 
 ledgment, has had the courtesy to allude to ' Music 
 and Morals * as at least one source of his inspiration. 
 
 The extent to which the analogy between the 
 
 ^ 
 
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240 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I < 
 
 waves of light and the waves of sound will work out 
 practically has not yet been fully ascertained. That 
 by translating the one into the other very astonish- 
 ing results are obtained is certain ; but, as Mr. Wallace 
 Rimington says, the Colour Art will have to be 
 elaborated on its own basis and need not be tram- 
 melled by reproducing the wave lengths and sound 
 vibrations of musical compositions in colour waves 
 and vibrations of the same proportions and velocities, 
 I have no doubt whatever that what occurred to me 
 in the crude form of an imaginative speculation is now 
 on the high road, through the patient genius and 
 enthusiasm of Mr. Wallace Rimington, to winning a 
 foremost position in the history of known arts, by the 
 elaboration of an entirely new one. I have not had 
 the advantage yet of seeing the colour organ in 
 o^jcration ; but the following description of the effects 
 produced by treating fountain spray as a disc for 
 colour, as the sun paints a rainbow on the foam 
 cloud which rises from Niagara, may here be of some 
 interest. 
 
 LIX 
 
 Fire and Water Colour. — One lovely evening 
 in the spring of 1885, 1 was invited by the well-known 
 engineer, Sir Francis Bolton, to assist at one of his 
 colour exhibitions at South Kevisington. When it 
 grewdark and the fountains were turned on, he repaired 
 to a little room on the opposite side of the Exhibition 
 grounds facing his water discs, and I sat by him as he 
 proceeded to manipulate his various electrical stops 
 which controlled the changing colours. 
 
 From his exalted position, in full view of the 
 
Chicago 
 
 24 T 
 
 out 
 
 rhat 
 lish- 
 llace 
 D be 
 ram- 
 ound 
 vavcs 
 cities, 
 to mc 
 s now 
 s and 
 ling a 
 by tbc 
 3t had 
 ran in 
 effects 
 lisc for 
 foam 
 )f some 
 
 ivenmg 
 -known 
 of bis 
 'hen it 
 i-epaircd 
 Ihibition 
 |m as he 
 |al stops 
 
 of the 
 
 Albert Hall, the fountains, and pleasure c^rounds, the 
 gallant Colonel surve>ed the peaceful field of his 
 electric operations, while the expectant crowd beneath 
 him clustered round the fountains and swarmed over 
 the walks and terraces right and left. The Colonel 
 was then a man of peace, having finally retired in July 
 1 88 1, after twenty-four years' service on the Gold 
 Coast and at Chatham. His name is associated with 
 ai. ingenious system of telegraphic and visual signal- 
 ling and other military inventions, and latterly he 
 happily applied to the recreation of thousands the 
 arts which he had so successfully placed at her 
 Majesty's disposal for the destruction of her enemies. 
 At the stroke of half-past eight Sir Francis signals 
 by bell telephone to the engineers in the bowels of 
 the earth beneath the fountains. He then takes his 
 seat in front Oi a little organ keyboard, consisting of 
 three rows of keys. From 1 to 16 regulate the water 
 jets, 17 to 32 the colours, and from 33 to 4S the light 
 is turned on at ' glow,' ' quarter,' ' half,' or ' full.' Close 
 beside this magic keyboard is a flat desk with six 
 circular knobs, like electric bell nuts: each kncjb 
 commands one of six sections of lights, and with these 
 in six batches the 12,000 coloured glowworms, the 
 buildings, the shrubberies, and the flower beds can be 
 turned up or down at a touch. ' See ! ' says the 
 Colonel, and at a touch all the lights outlining the 
 Albert Hall disappear in the distance ; another touch, 
 and they are all back again. ' More speed,' says Sir 
 Francis down the telephone, and the lights come on 
 from quarter to half ' More ! ' and then beam out 
 ' full.* Now he plays the top row of keys, and his 
 water jets dart up. Meanwhile the side ones are 
 scattered in spray, then suddenly concentrated. 
 VOL. I R 
 
 
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 V. 
 
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 242 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Aiiollicr key down, and all disappear — all but one tall 
 central spire of crystal shot with amber, then carmine 
 flame, for Sir I'rancis is now touchinj^ his second row 
 of keys. With the third row the li^ht is poured on 
 the base of the fountain, leavini;- the top dim and 
 misty ; then a bright spire of emerald is quickly sent 
 up through the middle jet, while the top breaks into 
 saffron -coloured rain ; and so, endlessly varied, the 
 colour symphony is played out for an hour or so. 
 About a quarter to ten the band strikes ui) ' God save 
 the Queen.' At a given moment Sir Francis calls 
 through his bell telephone to the underground en- 
 gineer, 'All off!' then he gently touches two or 
 three keys and i)istons. As the last bar begins the 
 fountains fail and drop, the 12,000 lights grow dim, 
 and exactly with the last notes of the band they all 
 go out at once, and leave the scene cold and pallid in 
 the grey moonlight. The effect is absolutely dream- 
 like. It is difficult to recall the dazzling coloured 
 prospect which one second ago seemed so resplen- 
 dent. Surely it must all have been an iiuier vision ! 
 All is so changed and dark. At this moment a 
 murmur of admiration breaks from the crowds be- 
 neath. The miracle of art and scientific skill seems, 
 then, only to be quite realised at the very moment 
 when the glittering spectacle suddenly vanishes. 
 Electric illumination had never before been carried 
 so far as this. Similar and even far more complex 
 effects were produced at Chicago ten years later, and 
 are now the common attractions of all firework and 
 night fountain shows. 
 
 When we think of great engineers like Sir Francis 
 Bolton, famous for inventing implements of ghastly 
 
 ill. 
 
Chicago 
 
 243 
 
 ctall 
 mine 
 I row 
 d on 
 and 
 r sent 
 J into 
 1, the 
 
 31- SO. 
 
 \ save 
 \ calls 
 id en- 
 \vo or 
 ns the 
 vv dim, 
 hey all 
 allid in 
 dream- 
 Dlourcd 
 esplen- 
 vision 1 
 Incnt a 
 ds be- 
 seems, 
 ioment 
 mishes. 
 carried 
 lomplex 
 Iter, and 
 )rk and 
 
 [Francis 
 ghastly 
 
 destruction for one department, or when wc hear of 
 Mr. Edison's threat to invent miraculous explosives 
 for blowing armies to pieces before they come in 
 sight of each other, we can only say, Would that all 
 our great military engineers and inventors were at 
 liberty, like the late Sir Francis, to devote their art 
 and science to the cause of popular recreation, utility, 
 and peace ! 
 
 It seems invidious to dismiss the subject of exhi- 
 bitions (suggested by the World's Fair) as places of 
 culture and recreation for the people, without a 
 respectful tribute to the Crystal Palace at Sydenham. 
 1 can remember the time when the site now occu- 
 pied by the Palace, its grounds and densely built- 
 over environs, were all wild woodland. To see the 
 rabbits feeding on a summer evening on the outskirts 
 of Mr. Nix's and Mr. Schuster's pleasant woodlands 
 was one of the delights of my boyhood. 
 
 Mr. Scott Russell, of unhappy ' Great Eastern 
 notoriety (his engines broke down), had a charming 
 house which stood in what is now, I believe, a portion 
 of the grounds. I think I could identify the cedar on 
 the lawn even now, if it has not been cut down. 
 
 I remember vividly the day of the ' Great Eastern ' 
 disaster which ruined Scott Russell, the gifted Brunei's 
 favourite pupil. One Sunday afternoon we were on 
 the terrace, and all day directors kept arriving and 
 walking up and down discussing the dreadful news 
 with their responsible engineer — charming, genial Scott 
 Russell ! — half poet and dreamer, a soul full of kindly 
 sympathy, and with such a fascination of manner and 
 so persuasive a power that you could not help believ- 
 ing all he said, even when the foundation premises 
 
 R 2 
 
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 244 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 were nil and the superstructure a mere card castle. 
 The Crystal l*alace, ^jraced by the genius of Sir Joseph 
 Paxton, and under the keen though coarse business 
 manai^einent of Mr. Bovvley, started with magni- 
 loquent promises of culture and refinement, art and 
 science, for the people. It had no luck. On the open- 
 ing da)' the biggest fountain would not play, and the 
 mechanician committed suicide. Some years after- 
 wards the gorgeous Alhambra and part of th tropi- 
 cal department succumbed to the flames. The late 
 Duke of Sutherland, who loved the excitement of 
 fires, and was to the last a close friend of Captain 
 Shaw, the great fireman, climbed the flaming ruins 
 and rescued a terrified parrot, upon which a witty 
 friend of mine observed, * A striking instance of 
 the way in which Providence appoints means to 
 ends.' 
 
 The people were to be taught history, natural 
 history, geography, science, they were to have music, 
 lectures, an art school, and be generally elevated. ' It's 
 all very well,' said Albert Smith to George Grove, the 
 versatile secretary ; ' but mark my words, it will still 
 come to climbing the greased .statue of Ramesesfor a 
 leg of mutton. What the mixed citizens want is amuse- 
 ment, not instruction.' Albert Smith was not far 
 wrong. The shareholders soon grumbled ; the tempta- 
 tion was sore to operate along the Bowley and Albert 
 Smith lines, and sacrifice everything to attract a 
 paying mob anyhow and anywhen. 
 
 One man, George Grove, stood firm, and he took his 
 stand on music. Challen's brass band was dismissed, 
 and the now famous Mr. Manns, then a very young man, 
 was installed as conductor of the now equally famous 
 Crystal Palace band. Again and again Mr. Bowley 
 
ClIICAflO 
 
 245 
 
 stle. 
 seph 
 ness 
 igni- 
 
 and 
 )pcn- 
 d the 
 aftcr- 
 [ropi- 
 u late 
 nt of 
 iptain 
 
 ruins 
 
 witty 
 ce of 
 A\s to 
 
 latural 
 music, 
 . 'It's 
 c, the 
 ill still 
 sfor a 
 musc- 
 ot far 
 mpta- 
 Albert 
 Iract a 
 
 )ok his 
 
 lissed, 
 
 ^man, 
 
 famous 
 
 Jowlcy 
 
 was for retrenchment in the direction of the music, 
 and again and apjain his daring secretary stood out 
 at the council board for Manns and his pioneer banti. 
 We all know the result. The Saturday concerts of 
 classical music prevailed — they attracted at last well- 
 dressed and paying crowds from London. Their ana- 
 lytical programmes, compiled and edited by Grove 
 (after the fashion of Professor ICUa's Musical Union 
 programmes), inaugurated a kind of musical literature 
 adopted since with modifications by the Monday 
 Popular and Symphony Concerts throughout the 
 country. 
 
 The incidental advantages to music from Sir 
 George Grove's long connection with the Crystal 
 Palace are quite incalculable. They are insepar- 
 ably associated with the production of almost every 
 work of musical interest that has been unearthed for 
 well nigh half a century, notably the orchestral works 
 of Schumann, and I might almost say the discovery 
 of Schubert as an orchestral writer. The giant Handel 
 Festivals, with memories of Costa, Clara Novello, and 
 Sims Reeves in his palmy days ; the colossal firework 
 exhibitions which, under Mr. Hrock, have ushered in 
 almost a new art ; the immense receptions, including 
 welcomes accorded to royalty, and the ever memor- 
 able visit of General Garibaldi ; the pleasant cricket 
 matches ; the inexhaustible refreshment rooms, bars and 
 pavilions ; the rose shows and fruit shows ; the theatri- 
 cal entertainments that ceased to be 'wrong' because 
 they were at the Crystal Palace ; the Leotard and 
 the Blondin feats (I remember Dickens saying IMondin 
 would come down some day, and th.ey would only 
 find * a little red sop ' when they went to pick him up) ; 
 and last, not least, the balloon ascents. 
 
 «. 
 
 .■ml 
 
 i >i 
 
 I 
 
246 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I I 
 
 It was from the Crystal Palace g^rounds that I 
 made my first, probably my last, balloon ascent. I 
 floated over Kent on a summer's afternoon, and came 
 down on the top of an oak forest, in peril of my life. 
 
 A few Handel Festivals, an Oddfellows', a Fores- 
 ters', or school children's ^iant assembly, a Shah, a 
 Garibaldi, or a casual Royalt)' realise, but only occasion- 
 ally, the ideal of the management ; but the cheap 
 pleasures of the mixed citizens alone have not been 
 found to sustain the funds so as to fill the pockets of the 
 shareholders. 
 
 Nevertheless, there can be little doubt that the 
 vast suburban city composed of Sydenham and 
 Upper Norwood rolled into one is the creation of the 
 Glass Palace, and it would pay the landlords, were there 
 a talk of taking the structure down, to come to the rescue 
 with a subsidy. Should it ever fall,thedepreciation in 
 house property would probably be very considerable, 
 as the hosts of wives, children, and young folk, in the 
 absence of the bread-winner who goes up every day to 
 town, would feel quite lost without their recreation 
 garden, reading room, park, and picnic ground, theatre 
 and concert especially on Saturdays, and all next door ; 
 but the shareholders, being now apparently resigned 
 to the inevitable, no longer grumble so loudly, and 
 there is little likelihood of the almost imperishable 
 glass house melting away like a dream after the 
 manner of the pasteboard and stucco prodigy at 
 Chicago. Financially, however, it never rivalled 
 that astounding enterprise. Of all the exhibitions 
 that have taken place during the last five-and-forty 
 years, two alone tower financially — the London Great 
 Exhibition of 1851, and 'the greatest show on airth' 
 at Chicago in 1893, 
 
247 
 
 <. 
 
 MORMON LAND 
 
 :,\ 
 
 LX 
 
 Utah Dp:skrt and Frisco Town.— Across 
 the desert ! The train drains through its four da)s 
 and ni<^hts somewhat slowl)-. Mot Utah i)lains, chiv- 
 ing alkah* dust, which bUnds the eyes and chaps the 
 hps. What a change from moist Chicago ! Yonder 
 hes a dead bullock, strayed, parched to death with 
 thirst, and many a skeleton of horse, elk, or prairie 
 dog — little heaps of bones among the sand dunes. Wo 
 surprise a herd of mountain deer on the verge of 
 the desert, a startled raven flaps by with an angry 
 caw, as we climb the Rocky Range. I can well 
 believe that the mountain lion, the grizzly bear, the 
 wild cat, and the coyote still linger in those illimit- 
 able fastnesses, although the buffalo has vanished from 
 the plains and valleys. As on the fourth morning in 
 the grey dawn the train draws up at Sacramento city, 
 a short stage from Francisco, I descend from my 
 sleeping car to have a look at a low tribe of Indians 
 bivouacking like gipsies on the fringe of the city, clad 
 in blankets and rags of civilised costume — consumj)- 
 tive, blind, half-starved, homeless and outcast in the 
 wide land once their own. Few sights more sad ! 
 
 ! ■i 
 
 ^il 
 
 I 
 
 LXI 
 
 A Mormon Invitation. — San Francisco ! 
 F'ifty years ago, who thought of the obscure Mexican 
 
 ^ 
 
ai 
 
 > S^' 
 
 ••■ t 
 
 
 i 
 
 248 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 iniiisioii, the wild mint villajrc, now the lar^^est city 
 in CahTornia, with its marvellous system of cable cars 
 which climb the almost perpendicular slopes with 
 ceaseless regularity and perilous speed, enablinj^^ the 
 suburban fashionables to live in a series of Belj^ravian 
 and South Kensini^tonian inansions at an incline of 
 45 degrees? No one, except in the llat business part 
 of the town, thinks of walking much in Frisco; the 
 population li\es in the cable cars. The rising genera- 
 tion .ire said to iiave no calves and no wind, but this 
 is a picturesque libel. The young men are well grown 
 but suictl)' commercial ; but the girls are pretty, 
 graceful, well educated, and splendidly healthy. On 
 my first visit to San Francisco, I was most hospitably 
 entertained by the Rev. Dr. Church at Irving College, 
 a large institution for young ladies, presided over by 
 the excellent ped able iloctor and his wife. 
 
 T!,c Rev. Dr. Church is a fine type of the single- 
 minded, single-hearted Christian, intent on doing his 
 duty to (jod and man. Like the Rev. Dr. Wakefield of 
 San josc, he represents in its least aggressive forsn the 
 more liberal element in the F,piscoi)al Church ; his 
 kindl)' antl fraternal lisposition draws to him many of 
 the town clerg)', who would not probabl) pledge them- 
 .selves to his precise opinionsif they precisely knew what 
 his precise opinions were. lie himself is content to 
 avoid ihe discussion of vexed (juestions, and rather 
 aims at resting in the Apostolical ' unity of the spirit 
 and the bond of peace.' 
 
 The cordial it}' of the Hishop and clergy, the kind- 
 ness of the people, and the crowded congregations that 
 I addressed during m\' nine days' fixing visit to San 
 J^'ranci.sco in 1JS93, made me not unnaturall)' turn my 
 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 249 
 
 eyes in the direction of the Pacific coast when the 
 delectable climate of London in the winter of 1894-5 
 drove me in search of a respite from black fo;;s and 
 snow, of all which more anon in my second volume. 
 15ut by far the most interesting^ and, to me, memor- 
 able result of my visit to TVisco in 1893 was my 
 introduction to two Mormon elders, who happened 
 to be staying in the town, and who invited me over 
 to Salt Lake. • Now,' I said, ' my time has come at 
 last. I shall see these stranj^e Mormons face to face.' 
 
 .«,■. 
 
 Hi- 
 
 Id of 
 m the 
 
 ; his 
 ny of 
 hem- 
 
 whal 
 _Mit to 
 rather 
 
 spirit 
 
 kind- 
 is that 
 jo San 
 Irn m)' 
 
 LXII 
 
 Earl^' Studies. — Lont^ ago, when quite a lad, in 
 the pa<;es of tlie * Ih-it^hton Guardian * I had written 
 the story {;f the Mormons — their eccentric creed, their 
 sufferinj^s and persecution, their irresistible eneri^)' and 
 indomitable pluck, their romantic wanderin<rs and their 
 phenomenal success : all this had attractetl my boyish 
 imajrination, and I was deliL^hted to find a patient 
 editor who would allow me to descant in his cf)lumns 
 (without p«i\') on so sensation.il and novel a theme, 
 for to the bulk of the Lngjiish public it was both. 
 
 I'rom the first I believed that for .soself-sacrificinLT 
 and devoted a community, however objectionable 
 their doctrine and practice, there must be cxti'nuating 
 circumstances, and the more I studied the (juostion 
 the more evident this became. 
 
 In my first curacy 1 lectured on the Mormons, to 
 the dismay of my respected vicar ; but I manaj^ed 
 to avoid t^ivin;^ actual offence, l.>y dwellin;^ almost 
 exclusively on the romance and i).ithos of the .stor\' 
 
 II 
 
 I, 
 
250 
 
 Travf.l and Talk 
 
 .ind the pjoody-g^oodies shrugged their shoulders in 
 a non-committal style, and went their way, saying, 
 ' lla ! very interesting never heard so much about 
 them —thought they were very different — had tio idea,' 
 &c. &c. 
 
 So when, thirty years later, I found myself at 
 l''rancisco, and read in the newspapers that President 
 Cannon and l^ishop Clawson had arrived in the cit\-, 
 and were at a certain hotel, I posted off at o!ici-. 
 sent up my card, and was very kindly received b\' 
 these two Mormon patriarchs. 
 
 LXIll 
 
 Mr. O. Cannon. — He is a contemporary of the 
 Prophet, Joseph Smith. His family joined the com- 
 munity when he was quite a boy. They were brought 
 over from England in the suite of Brigham Young, 
 who had gone to Liverpool on a missionary tour. Mr. 
 Cannon is a benevolent-looking elderly man of about 
 seventy. I le represented the Mormons and Utah terri- 
 tory at Washington for many years, and is certainl)-, 
 now Hrigham Young is dead, one of if not the ablest 
 of the Mormon rulers. In Congress they used to call 
 him * S)noot/i-lwrc Cantion ' on account of his singularly 
 persuasive manner and a certain quiet, stately and 
 restrained elotiucncc, which seemed to dei)recate rather 
 than silence opposition. Me is never hurried into a 
 rash adjective or an extreme statement, and his serene 
 composure, and at times almost pathetic seriousness, 
 make his conversation as impressive as it is charming. 
 
 * Do I understand from you,' I asked, ' that poly- 
 gamy is now completely abolished in Utah?' 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 2!;i 
 
 by 
 
 'i^» 
 
 \imv^. 
 
 poly- 
 
 ' You may rely upon it,' he answered. ' It couUl 
 not be otherwise. If we tried to continue it we could 
 not — wo arc surrounded by Government spies and 
 informers — we arc tracked and watched — and any 
 infringement of the law as it stands would be instantly 
 visited with arrest and imprisonment.' Turning to 
 Clawson, he remarked, ' \Vc know by experience it is 
 so ; we have both been imprisoned for the faith — 
 when we were fighting the legality of this questioti. 
 Of course,' continued the {'resident, 'with us it was a 
 religious as well as a social question of great import- 
 ance ; both Mr. Clawson and m)'selfhad several wives 
 and a large number of children ; we held that we were 
 covered by the 2nd Amendment of the United .States 
 of America Constitution, which provides that all 
 citizens of the States shall be left undisturbed in their 
 religious doctrine and practice. I fought hard for 
 the cause in Congress — we carried it from court to 
 court, and when at last it was given against us in the 
 highest court, I wrote a pamphlet to prove that the 
 decision was a wrong one. My friends,' added Mr. 
 Cannon, with a patient smile, ' were rather amused at 
 my professing to know the law better tha?! the highest 
 legal authorities. Hut,' he added emphatically, * we 
 gave in ; we have always been law-abiding citizens, 
 whatever our enemies have said to the contrar}'.' 
 * And what did you do about )'our wives?' 
 The old gentleman paused, but resumed shortly : 
 ' It was a terrible thing, but our lives have always 
 been lives of sacrifice, and we felt that one more 
 supreme sacrifice was now demanded of us in the 
 cause of duty. Those who have never shrunk at 
 giving up possessions, peace, comfort, antl ha\(^ 
 always been ready to suffer fine, arrest, persecution, 
 
 V 
 
 ¥ 
 
 I' 
 
vmmmmm 
 
 ■iiiiiiTini 
 
 '5:? 
 
 TkAVKL AND Talk 
 
 ?M 
 
 imprisonment and dc.ith at the call of duty ant! 
 cf...''iction, could not hesitate. When plural marriage, 
 which had been tacitly countenaiiceil for years by the 
 United States of America Government, who con- 
 desceiuled \n appoint our tjovernors and judges, was 
 sudilenl)' declared to be illei^al, we j^jave in.' 
 
 Mr, Cannon aijain paused. Presently he resumed, 
 not without some suj)pressed emotion : 
 
 ' 1 think,' h{^ said, turning to Hishop ("lawson, ' you 
 will bear me out thai our families were singularly 
 happy and united, the women loving each other like 
 sisters, and the children ^rowin^' up happily together.' 
 Mr. Claw.son remarked that this was so, but he would 
 not have me to suppose that there were never any 
 family discords in L^tidi in short, not even Mormoji- 
 ism could utterly and all at once destroy ()ri|.jinal Sin ; 
 only he conceived that on the whole there were fir 
 fewer unliai)py marriai:(es on their system than on 
 ours. 
 
 I.e.avinL];; the question open, we passed on to 
 particulars. 
 
 ' And how,' I asked, ' did )-ou act ? ' 
 
 •Well,' resumed Mr. Cannoti, ' I called m)' wives 
 together I explained to them the law. The>' were 
 now i'rcc, I saitl, lotlepart, and to n)arry if they chose ; 
 but I was morally bound to provide for them if they 
 did n('t do so. We had lived loni; and happily to- 
 i;ether ; I could never suffer them to want, and I 
 should still provide for the etlucatioji and mainten 
 ance of m\' dear children and wives. The\' all replied 
 they accepted the sacrifice im[)o.scd, but they would 
 not leave mc unless compclletl to do so. It was 
 hard, very hard — a terrible rendin<;of family ties all 
 round - but I iiad to decide what I would do. M) 
 
 i! 
 
 'A 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 :?53 
 
 ami 
 
 ■ the 
 
 con- 
 
 \v;is 
 
 mcd, 
 
 • you 
 
 lUirly 
 r like 
 •thcr; 
 a'ouUl 
 r any 
 rinon- 
 il Sin ; 
 :rc far 
 lan «Mi 
 
 on to 
 
 wives 
 
 ly were 
 
 chose ; 
 
 if they 
 
 l)ily to- 
 
 atul 1 
 lainten 
 [lepHetl 
 
 wonUl 
 
 It was 
 Ities all 
 
 P. ^b 
 
 first wife was deatl. I resolveil tiu r^' sliould be no 
 heart -hurnin^fs. I would iienceforth have no wife 
 there siiouid be no jealousy and I now live apart 
 with the cinldrcn of my first wife. Hut we could not 
 break up the family social circle, and I try for the 
 sake of all to keep it to'f^ether. I built a lar<^c mom. 
 h'very morning" the ladies with their children meet mc 
 there as usual for readinj^ of the Hible and prayer. 
 We dine in the same hall. I'.ach mother sits at a 
 table with her own children, and that it may not be 
 saiil I sit down with my " wives " to dine, I h-ive a 
 table set apart for me with the children of my first 
 wife.' 
 
 As the old gentleman contiiuied talkinfj earnestly 
 and sensibly in ^his way, I could not helj) feeling how 
 different t!ie real MormcMi looked from the unscru- 
 pulous satyr and would-be ignorant assassin of the 
 popular imagination. Mr. Caiuion added,' I will not 
 conceal from )'ou -as you are a cleri^yman, and must 
 ha\e thou^lu. over this subject that we view the 
 future of our )'oun^ pco|)le with anxiety. 'I'he co 
 
 m- 
 
 munit)' has been sini^ularl)- blest and i)ro>perous. 
 We have enjoyed an immunit)' from intemperance, 
 crime, disorder and pauperism very unusual in large 
 cities, but our female poj)ulation is' as usual larfjel)' in 
 excess of the male, and there is, as there aiua;,s has 
 been.apreponderating luuuber of single women among 
 those who still emigrate to us. Presently the old pro- 
 blem will arise, how to provide for these women, what 
 to do with them ^ Wc had our .solution, but it has 
 not been accepted by the United States of America. 
 We look anxiously to sec what new .solution the old 
 Christian cities mean to provide. At [)re.scnt it can- 
 
254 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 i; 
 
 not be said that in any city of the Old World the 
 Social Evil with all its frightful concomitants has been 
 even approximately dealt with. We believe that 
 nothing but the strictest marriage code and the most 
 inexorable regulation of the sexual instincts, on the 
 highest religious principles, can put an end to this 
 evil, and we did put an end to it. No one,* added 
 Mr. Cannon, ' who in the least grasps the stringent 
 conditions and continuous sacrifices involved in our 
 plural marriage system can suppose for a moment 
 that any man in his senses would adopt the practice 
 for licentious purposes. It is not only far more costly 
 than monogamy, but it makes more demands on the 
 judgment, forbearance, moderation, and self-restraint 
 of those who adopt it, and I think I may add that it 
 is a system which has produced some of the noblest 
 and most refined types of womanhood — I had almost 
 said sainthood — in Utah.' 4 
 
 In listening to the President, I began to under- 
 stand how he won his sobriquet of SmootJi-borc 
 Cannon in Congress. 
 
 Of course, when all is said and done, it is difficult 
 to speak too strongly in condemnation of the practice. 
 Though sanctioned in the Old Testament and no- 
 where expressly forbidden in the New, it is essentially 
 unfitted to Christian civilisation, inimical to the higher 
 culture and development of women, opposed to the 
 spirit of Christ's religion, and often fraught with 
 social disaster and family demoralisation. Hut, with- 
 out condemning Abraham, who was the ' Friend 
 of God I the patriarch Jacob, and a score of Old 
 Testament saints, whom we are taught to revere, it 
 would be difficult to maintain that the system of 
 plural marriage is in all ages and under all circuni- 
 
 nl 
 
T 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 255 
 
 the 
 ecn 
 :hat 
 lost 
 the 
 this 
 Ided 
 gent 
 I our 
 ment 
 
 LCtiCC 
 
 :ostly 
 n the 
 traint 
 :hat it 
 oblest 
 lUnost 
 
 under- 
 Ji-bore 
 
 stances inconsistent with faith ami j^oud works and a 
 life in some measure acceptable to God. Moreover, 
 the Mormons were undoubtedly sincere. Their con- 
 ditions seemed to them .somewhat similar to those of 
 the patriarchal times. They believed they had a 
 mission to found a nation of rij^hteousness unto the 
 Lord. They were driven into the wilderness a mere 
 handful of exiles surrounded by wild Indians (longj 
 before this happened Joseph Smith foresaw and 
 foretold it). There seemed no way of protecting the 
 numbers of poor women who joined their ranks except 
 by marrying them and providing for their children ; 
 the waste lands of Utah required peopling and tilling, 
 the villages and cities had to be defended, the more 
 stalwart children the better, ' and Jiappy ilhxs the man 
 who had his quiver full of them' They believed that 
 under these circumstances plural marriage had been 
 revived by Divine revelation in their favour. VV'c 
 may regret this as a mischievous illusion, we may 
 denounce it as an infraction of .social order and a blot 
 upon the purity of family life, but no one can con- 
 verse with any of the founders of Mormonism many 
 of whom are still living — without feeling convinced 
 that they did the wrong thing with the best intentions ; 
 and we may perhaps give them credit for abandoning 
 -'■ frankly as soon as it was pronounced illegal. 
 
 I am now, as an impartial recorder, bound to say 
 that I learned from General M'Cook, Commander-in- 
 Chief of the Forces in Utah, who kindly offered me 
 the hospitality of his private saloon car whilst I was 
 travelling in the territory, that, in his opinion, poly- 
 gamy, in spite of the law, had not been definitely 
 abandoned by the Mormons. I cannot say on what 
 grounds this opinion was founded. I put it plainly 
 
 \ v: 
 
1 '■ I 
 
 256 
 
 TUAVKL AND TALK 
 
 to the rn)])lu:t Woodruff, who sits in the seat ot liri^- 
 iiam Younj^, whetiier this was so or not. 
 
 We were in the Council Ciiamber at Salt Lake City, 
 and the twelve apostles were present. Mr Woodruff, a 
 fine old gentleman of eiiihty-fivc (iiS^s), in full vigour 
 of mind and bod)', assured me — and he was supported 
 by the bishops and elders present — that all reports of 
 plural marriage since the legal decision against it were 
 utterly false, malicious, and libellous, and my atten- 
 tion was called to the following passage, which occurs 
 in an • Official Manifesto,' dated Salt Lake City, 
 December u, I1SS9, and signed by Prophet Woodruff: 
 
 ' I therefore, as I'resident of the Church of Jesus 
 C hrist of Latter-Day Saints, do hereby most solemnly 
 declare that these charges arc false, vv'e are not 
 teaching polygamy, or plural marriage, nor permitting 
 any person to enter into its practice, and I deny that 
 either forty or any other number of plural marriages 
 have been solenniised during that period in cur 
 Temple, or in any other place in the territory. One 
 case has been reported ; whatever was done in this 
 matter was done without m>' kncjwlcdge. I have not 
 been able to learn who performed it, and the Endow- 
 ment House, in which it was .said to have been per- 
 formed, was by my instruction, on that ground, taken 
 down without delay.' 
 
 I will add one more sentence from this remarkably 
 concise and frank manifesto : 
 
 ' Notwithstanding all the stories told about the 
 killing of apostates, no I'dse of this kind has ever 
 occurred, and, (jf course, lias never been established 
 against the Church \vc represent.' 
 
 1 have thought it right to say thus much with a 
 
 ,i 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 257 
 
 iri<;- 
 
 .'ity, 
 Li ff, a 
 goui- 
 )rtcd 
 rts of 
 were 
 illcn- 
 (ccurs 
 City, 
 drulT: 
 
 Jesus 
 
 cmnly 
 
 e not 
 
 flitting 
 
 \y that 
 
 rriages 
 
 n cur 
 One 
 
 in this 
 vc not 
 ndow- 
 Mi per- 
 , taken 
 
 Lfkably 
 
 )ut the 
 
 \js ever 
 
 )lished 
 
 [with a 
 
 view to disarming, at least, some prejudice by making 
 it clear — 
 
 First, that plural marriage was no part of original 
 Mormonism, nor any inseparable adjunct of it. 
 
 Secondly, that it was not conducted in such a 
 manner as to blight entirely the happiness, and cer- 
 tainly did not check the prosperity, of the people. 
 
 Thirdly, that it was frankly abandoned as soon as 
 it was declared to be illegal ; and 
 
 Lastly, that the wholesale charges of assassination 
 launched against Brigham Young have never, in any 
 one single instance, been proved. Such are the bold 
 assertions now confidently made by the Latter-Day 
 Mormons. 
 
 In the matter of non-conviction, IJrigham Young 
 may fairly challenge comparison with the rounder 
 Prophet, Joseph Smith. Joseph Smith was fre- 
 quently arrested and imprisoned ; he was brought 
 up before the courts no less than thirty-nine times 
 on different charges, sedition, murder, immorality, 
 robbery, &c. &c. ; the juries were often packed, and 
 the judges were always prejudiced — fieirr on any one 
 occasion zvas he convicted, never was any one crime 
 proved against him. Joseph Smith was at last assas- 
 sinated at the early age of thirty-eight, by a fanatical 
 mob, without a hearing, without a sentence, and with- 
 out a judge. 
 
 As Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet, has for 
 sixty years been gibbeted before the whole of Chris- 
 tendom as an impostor, and a knave of the fust water, 
 I need make no apology for introducing here a 
 brief sketch of his career, and a fair if not altogether 
 sympathetic estimate of a man whose ecclesiastical 
 and political achievements were as singular as they 
 VOL. I S 
 
 l< 1; 
 
 I J 
 
 T; I 
 
258 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 were colossal ; who certainly had the courage of his 
 opinions, and was not innvillinj:^, thoiij^h by no means 
 anxious, to lay down his life for them. 
 
 When at last he ^ave himself up voluntarily to the 
 police, well knowing that he could expect no justice 
 or protection, but was about to fall into the hands of 
 an angry mob, he exclaimed, ' / go like a lamb to the 
 slaughter, but I am calm as a summer's morn ! * 
 
 I 
 
 LXIV 
 
 Rise ok Joskimi Smith. Joseph Smith, the Pro- 
 phet and founder of Mormonism, was born in the year 
 of our Lord 1805 at Sharon County, Windsor State, 
 X'^ermont. lie was one of a large family. Mis father 
 and mother, farmers, were both very religious people 
 indeed, his mother laid claim to special revelations. 
 She was always seeing visions, dreaming dreams, sing- 
 ing psalms, and telling fortunes. This sort of religion 
 was by no means uncommon in those days in America, 
 which was at that time profoundly agitated by a great 
 wave of evangelical reaction that had spread somewhat 
 earlier from ICngland. The usual jarring disputation 
 atul hair-splitting of doctrine followed, which resulted 
 not unnatural 1)' in the acute and ardent mind of 
 Joseph Smith being driven to the verge of scepticism, 
 when sudtlenly he lighted on the text, ' If any man 
 lack wisdom, let him ask of God.' Smith, being 
 grievously tossed in spirit, retired into the summer 
 woods 'and asked of God.' A vision then appeared 
 to him. ' / saw a pillar of light above the brightness 
 of the sun, ivhich descended upon me. I felt myself 
 delivered from my enemy the devil! Two angelic 
 
 t 
 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 259 
 
 beings now appeared, whu told him that all the sects 
 were wrong, and had departed from the religion ^^ 
 Jesus, which was the only true one. This was the 
 beginning of a series of spiritual communications 
 which ended in Joseph Smith receiving a commission 
 to restore the true religion with certain additions. 
 And this ' Restoration ' is now the faith of the Lattcr- 
 Day Saints. 
 
 igclic 
 
 LXV 
 
 Tun Book of Mormon. -He was sent to visit the 
 Hill of Amorah, some thirty miles from Rochester City. 
 There he dug, and found a stone box. In the box 
 were certain gold plates inscribed with Egyptian 
 writings, also a curious jewelled belt or breastplate, 
 apparently divination crystals or a Urim and Thum- 
 mim. He visited the Hill of Amorah three years run- 
 ning, and on the fourth year he was allowed to re- 
 move the golden plates. His family, who were at first 
 incredulous, now became his ardent disciples, so did 
 his young wife, Emma Hale, whom he had recently 
 married. Oliver Cowdrey, Maxim Harris, and David 
 Whitmer were the three witnesses who declared they 
 had seen these gold plates ; but, I gather, very much 
 as St. Paul sazij Jesus — in a kind of vision. 
 
 It was further said that, after Joseph Smith, with 
 the aid of the sacred crystals, had translated the 
 Egyptian letters, a copy of the plate and translation 
 was inspected by Professors Michell and Anthon, 
 of Columbia College, New York, who declared the 
 writing to be Egyptian and the translation fairly 
 correct ; but unfortunately the professors' certificate 
 has not been forthcoming. When the plates, which 
 
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 (716) 872-4503 
 

26o 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 
 were in fact the ' IBook of Mormon,' had been trans- 
 lated, the angel took them away, and so the evidence 
 for their existence rests on Joseph and the vision of 
 the three witnesses ; the professors arc rather out of 
 it. The ' Book of Mormon ' was given to the world 
 in 1830. 
 
 This is the other account of the discovery of the 
 ' Book of Mormon.' About 18 16 died one Solomon 
 Spaulding. This ingenious person seems to have 
 written an imaginary account of how America was 
 peopled in ancient times. He called it the ' Jl/S. 
 Found.' After his death it was ^ found', no doubt, on 
 a dusty shelf by a printer named Patterson. It 
 subsequently fell into one Sidney Rigdon's hands. 
 Joseph Smith was a friend o* Sidney Rigdon--and 
 ' there you have it all ! ' So the * MS. Found ' is by the 
 enemies of the Mormons declared to be identical 
 Vv'ith the ' Book of Mormon.' 
 
 There are, however, flaws in this explanation. 
 Spaulding's MS. was not heard of until three years 
 after the ' Book of Mormon ' was issued. When 
 compared with Joseph's ' Translation ' — for the pur- 
 pose of exposing Joseph — it was found * totally unlike' 
 and consequently suppressed, three witnesses de- 
 claring, but without any proof, that it was ' quite like! 
 
 In 1884 (and tnis is the only solid fact for which 
 there seems any real evidence) the Spaulding MS. 
 turned up again. President James H. Fairchild, of 
 Oberlin College, Ohio, was looking over some of Mr. 
 Rice's MSS. in search of anti-slavery documents, 
 when he came on a package marked ' MS. Story,' 
 which proved to be none other than Solomon 
 Spaulding's 'MS. Found.' In 1840 Mr. Rice ex- 
 
 %\ 
 
.1:^; 
 
 ans- 
 snce 
 •n of 
 It of 
 ^orld 
 
 f the 
 )mon 
 have 
 a was 
 ' MS. 
 bt, on 
 1. It 
 :iands. 
 — and 
 by the 
 sntical 
 
 lation. 
 
 years 
 
 When 
 
 le pur- 
 
 de- 
 like: 
 which 
 r MS. 
 ild, of 
 f Mr. 
 ments, 
 Story,' 
 lomon 
 e ex- 
 
 is 
 
 ie 
 
 D 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 261 
 
 plained that he had purchased from the publisher 
 of * Mormonism Unveiled ' the ' business and effects.' 
 The MS., which had originally been bought from 
 Spaulding's widow, had not been found of any use for 
 the purpose of exposing Joseph Smith, and had been 
 laid aside or * suppressed.' 
 
 In 1886 the MS. v/as at last published, and is 
 totally distinct from Joseph Smith's work ; and so 
 this explanation of the * Book of Mormon ' sccrns 
 to vanish from the controversi- after havinc: becji 
 accepted for sixt)' years. 
 
 From the above statements it will appear that the 
 Inspiration theory of the ' Book of Mormon ' rests 
 upon slender evidence enough, but that the fraud 
 explanation rests on no evidence at all. 
 
 And now, what is the * Book of Mormon,' or what 
 does it profess to be ? 
 
 The ' Book of Mormon ' claims to be the record 
 of two ^rc C.L *-aces that lived on the American 
 continent before the days of Columbus. The book, 
 indeed, goes back to ihe Tower of Babel, but we need 
 not start from the Old World before the time of 
 Joseph, one of whose descendants — Lehi — under 
 one Nephi, built a ship, crossed the ' great waters,' 
 landed in America, and peopled it North and South. 
 A whole section of the people— called the Lamanitcs, 
 or Darkskins — proved rebellious, and rose up against 
 the more pious and cultured descendants of Nephi. 
 To these appeared last Jesus, shortly after His Resur- 
 rection, and gave them special religious instruction. 
 About the same time a kind of Atlantean catastrophe 
 overwhelmed the majority of the Lamanites, but the 
 Transatlantic Church of Christ took root amongst the 
 Nephites, who proceed to enjoy two hundred years of 
 
 ivl 
 
 m\ 
 
 11 
 
 m 
 
 \\- f ■ i 
 
 1; 
 
 • f 
 
 ; 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 ■» 
 
 
 £ : 
 
 i 
 
 1 -t 
 
 1 
 
 (J 
 
262 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ..i 
 
 peace and plenty. But the usual degeneration sets in. 
 It is now the turn of the remnant Lamanites ; they rise 
 and overwhelm with slaughter the Nephites, but not 
 before the Nephite General and Prophet Mormon 
 has committed the records of his people to the care 
 of Moroni, his son, together with the divination 
 crystals — Urim and Thummim ; these are buried in 
 a stone box in the Hill of Amorah about A.D. 420, 
 and these are found b}' Joseph Smith in 1823. This 
 book contains the Gospel according to Joseph 
 Smith ; it does not supersede the Old or New 
 Testament — it supplements both. It deals with 
 Faith, Original Sin, the Work of Christ, the Gift of 
 the Spirit, the Organisation of the Church, Marriage, 
 the Dead, the Life Everlasting, and a variety of 
 kindred topics. It is always dogmatic, and often 
 dull ; but the same has been said of the Bible by 
 those who do not believe in it ; and to the converts of 
 Joseph Smith it proved an invaluable text-book, tens 
 of thousands having been converted by it to the 
 * Faith ' so recently delivered to the Latter-Day 
 Saints. 
 
 LXVI 
 
 Rise of the Church.— In 1830 the new church 
 was started at Fayette, Seneca County, N.Y. Smith 
 ordained Oliver Cowdery, and Oliver Cowdery ordained 
 Smith. The numbers soon swelled to forty — apostles, 
 evangelists, and missioners were appointed. Wholesale 
 baptism by immersion now took place, and the spec- 
 tacle of these strange people, male and female, plunging 
 and dipping into the open streams from planks stretched 
 across them seems to have excited the first popular 
 
h\ 
 
 r-Day 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 263 
 
 attacks. Smith and his followers soon had to leave 
 Fayette — it was the bcginninq- of a series of expul- 
 sions which ended only with the settlement in Utah, 
 and of persecutions which have hardly yet ceased. 
 Not long afterwards Joseph Smith was arrested for 
 preaching the * Book of Mormon,' but was released 
 almost immediately. 
 
 The united church next removed to Ohio, and 
 founded in Jackson County the city of New Sion. 
 But the same hatred dogs the Mormon footsteps 
 Their numbers increase continually — in a short time 
 in Missouri alone they swell to 1,200. Joseph now 
 performs miracles — casts out devils, heals the sick, 
 and even raises the dead. Many dubious and some 
 startling tales were current about him. We know 
 that Mahomet had to go to the mountain because the 
 mountain would not come to Mahomet, so on one 
 occasion it is said that Smith promised to walk on 
 the water, and having assembled a crowd, took off his 
 shoes and stockings and inquired if the people had 
 faith to believe. They all loudly swore they believed, 
 upon which Smith put on his shoes and stockings 
 again, and said that was quite sufficient, for It was 
 written that those were * more blessed who had not 
 seen and ye': had believed.' 
 
 On another occasion he proposed to he-'^' two sick 
 women who died very shortly, but Smith said the 
 miracle was just as good, for they had both departed 
 in peace, which was * far better.' These may or not 
 be idle and malicious tales, but it is not unlikely that 
 so shrewd a man was sometimes tempted to answer 
 fools according to their folly, and we read of One 
 whose miracles we do not qucation Who was also 
 
 
 
 '■'.) 
 
 ■'j 
 
?64 
 
 Tkavki. and Talk 
 
 habitually importuned for them and bitterly com- 
 plained of for not performing them. 
 
 An amusing story is told of the prophet, who 
 once received a visit from a man determined to get 
 a miracle out of him. Smith absolutely refused ; but 
 being unable to get rid of the fellow, he turned sharply 
 on him with, ' Will you be struck deaf or dumb or 
 blind ? Whichever you choose, you shall have it.' 
 
 It is recorded that the man at once beat a hasty 
 retreat in the utmost terror. 
 
 LXVIl 
 
 New Sign. — For a short time the New Sion 
 seemed to be a success. The prophet reigned 
 supreme, and converts flocked — even the missions 
 sent out to the Indians (the Lamanites) were not 
 without fruit. But the Protestant ministers of mis- 
 sions incited the people to rise against the Mormons. 
 Life and property in New Sion ceased to be secure — 
 even the protection of the law was withheld ; and on 
 October 31, 1833, the saints were attacked by a 
 furious mob, houses were burned, women and children 
 brutally maltreated, and several Mormons killed and 
 wounded. Another furious and final attack was 
 made in November — the police looking on and 
 doing nothing. 
 
 * Armed bands of ruffians,' writes an eye-witness, 
 * ranged the country in every direction — bursting into 
 houses and threatening the defenceless people with 
 death if they did not flee. Out upon the bleak 
 prairie, along the Missouri's banks, chilled by 
 November's winds and drenched by pouring rains, 
 hungry and shelterless, weeping and heart-broken, 
 
litness, 
 
 \g into 
 
 with 
 
 bleak 
 
 by 
 
 rains, 
 
 Iroken, 
 
 MoKMON Land 
 
 265 
 
 wandered forth the exiles. FamiHcs scattered and 
 divided, husbands seekin;^ wives, wives husbands, 
 parents seeking for their children, not knowing if they 
 were yet alive.' 
 
 Many thousands were thus compelled to cross the 
 Missouri River in open boats in the middle of a dark 
 November night, robbed of everything but the 
 clothes on their backs, and going they knew not 
 whither. But Joseph Smith was not idle : he covered 
 their retreat with an armed force, and even tried to re- 
 take the city. He was ubiquitous, exhorting, cheering 
 peo-^le, praying with and comforting his followers. 
 As the weeks rolled on they found themselves dis- 
 persed but still living, and persecution seemed only 
 to swell their numbers and strengthen their faith. 
 Never for a moment did Smith losr, confidence in his 
 mission. Through all difficulties with fixed purpose 
 he marched on in the very teeth of misfortune, 
 exhibiting, as even his enemies admit, unrivalled 
 coolness, sagacity, and personal courage. 
 
 His pov/crs of fascination must indeed have been 
 remarkable. Whenever he fairly faced his accusers, 
 and got any sort of hearing, from mob to magistrate, 
 he scored^ — the people vacillating if not won, the 
 guards conniving at his escape, the magistrates (con- 
 spicuously the Senators at Washington) refusing to 
 convict or condemn, shuffling, excusing themselves, 
 and, on the last fatal day, fairly running away, and 
 leaving the prisoner, whom they were bound to protect, 
 to his lawless murderers. 
 
 On one occasion, the authorities, wishing to put 
 an end to the riots, sent a body of troops to take 
 Smith. The officers found him at his mother's house 
 
 1 
 
 •nil 
 
 
 % 
 
 
 ( a 
 
 
 f^' 
 
 m 
 
 
 
I' 
 
 n 
 
 ;■&! 
 
 ii 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 ,'1 
 
 
 
 266 
 
 Travet. and Talk 
 
 writing a letter. He said, when he had done writing 
 he would attend to them, and proceeded quietly to 
 finish his letter. His mother then addressed the 
 officers : * Gentlemen, let me make you acquainted 
 with Joseph Smith the Prophet.' They stared at 
 him as if he were a spectre ; but Joseph, rising from 
 his bureau, stepped forward, and shaking hands with 
 them all in a kindly and fraternal manner, smilingly 
 bade them be seated. He then sat down, and 
 explained to them his views on religion, dwell- 
 ing with great calmness but deep pathos on the 
 sufferings which he and his people had undergone for 
 the faith. The men forgot their unwelcome errand, 
 and when Joseph turned to his mother and said, ' I 
 believe I will go home now, Emma [his wife] will be 
 expecting me,' two of the officers sprang to their 
 feet, and declared they would accompany him to his 
 door, and protect his person from injury ; and so 
 ended the arrest. 
 
 On another occasion, his rough body-guards, who 
 were stationed in his cell, and did not leave him day 
 or night, were so much moved by his sublime dis- 
 course and serenity that they fell at his feet, and 
 with sobs implured him to pardon them for carrying 
 out their instructions, seeing plainly that he was a 
 ' holy man.' 
 
 Expelled from New Sion, the Prophet was now 
 hunted from place to place, but he shared all perils 
 and dangers in common with his followers, and 
 though often arrested would frequently escape, and 
 appear suddenly amongst them, and comfort them 
 with some new revelation. His prophecies were con- 
 sidered remarkable, though perhaps hardly beyond 
 
■^^ 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 267 
 
 riting 
 tly to 
 d the 
 linted 
 ed at 
 I from 
 is with 
 ilingly 
 1, and 
 dwell- 
 Dn the 
 one for 
 errand, 
 said, ' I 
 will be 
 to their 
 n to his 
 and so 
 
 ds, who 
 im day 
 me dis- 
 et, and 
 ;arrying 
 was a 
 
 :as now 
 ill perils 
 jrs, and 
 Lpe, and 
 rt them 
 fere con- 
 beyond 
 
 the speculations of a man of such keen insight. He 
 foretold the expulsion from Nauvoo (their next city), 
 his own assassination, the subscqiiont wanderings of 
 his people, their settlement at the Salt Lake, the 
 attempted disruption of the States, and the war of 
 North against South. He never had the smallest 
 doubt of the ultimate triumph of his cause ; and 
 his people, notwithstanding cases of apostasy and 
 occasional internal dissension, clung to him with an 
 a.stonishing ardour of devotion. 
 
 It was early apparent that such a life must close 
 with martyrdom. But the end was not yet — one 
 more brilliant act has to be played out before the 
 curtain falls on the last tragedy at Carthage City. 
 
 LXVHI 
 
 Nauvoo. — Leaving the State of Missouri — having 
 been expelled from no less than nine counties — the 
 tireless Mormons formed a new city, or rather rcchris- 
 tened and recreated the old city of commerce on the 
 banks of the Mississippi, * the Father of Waters.' 
 They call it Nauvoo — ' the beautiful.' In 1841 Con- 
 gress recognised Smith as head of the community, and 
 granted Nauvoo a most liberal charter. Smith was 
 also empowered to raise an armed force for the 
 protection of his people. Nothing could exceed the 
 industry and order which now reigned at Nauvoo. 
 Every trade flourished, and the land round the city 
 became as the Garden of Eden. The Prophet him- 
 self was continually seen conversing affably with the 
 lowest of the people, and his word was law. 
 
 A magnificent temple was begun, the women 
 
 r. 
 
 I 
 
 ,■1 
 
 i I 
 
 Pi 
 
 1^ 
 
 r 
 
 ? i 
 
 II: 
 
268 
 
 Tkavkl AM) Talk 
 
 f. I 
 
 giving up even their trinkets and the men their free 
 labour. Hut such sudden prosperity not only excited 
 the bitter envy of neighbours, but also roused a spirit 
 of greedy internal rivalry and opposition. A news- 
 paper now appeared which every week printed libels 
 on Joseph and showered abuse on the Saints. 
 
 The Prophet razed its offices to the ground. 
 
 This was his first false step. A howl went 
 through America that the Mormons were afraid of 
 publicity, that the plurality of wives which had now 
 been avowed covered naineless horrors of tyrann}' 
 and even murder ; that the liberty of the press had 
 been openly assailed by the destruction of the ' Even- 
 ing and Morning Star ' offices ; and that the Prophet 
 Joseph was a man of immoral character. Notwith- 
 .standing this Joseph Smith, backed by a numericall)- 
 powerful Mormon constituency, became a candidate 
 for the Presidency of the United States. 
 
 This was his second false move, and from that 
 moment much of his sagacity and even some of his 
 nerve seemed to forsake him. 
 
 LXIX 
 
 Causes of UNroPULARixv. — Before I record the 
 last shocking scene which so prematurely closed the 
 stormy life of the Mormon Prophet, it may be well to 
 ask and to answer the very natural question, why did 
 the Mormons, if they were so industrious, sober, orderly, 
 prosperous, and law-abiding, so invariably suffer from 
 unpopularity and persecution ? There were man)' 
 reasons besides the provoking arrogance of fanaticism : 
 the following four may here suffice ; 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 269 
 
 ir free 
 xcited 
 I spirit 
 news- 
 ] libels 
 
 1 went 
 "raid of 
 id now 
 :yrann3' 
 [jss had 
 « Even- 
 Prophct 
 lotvvith- 
 lericall)' 
 indidat.e 
 
 10m that 
 le of his 
 
 cord the 
 )sed the 
 
 well to 
 why did 
 orderly, 
 fer from 
 many 
 
 ticism : 
 
 (1) The Mormons were the eailiest and most 
 openly avowed Abolitionists, at a time when slavery 
 throughout America was held almost as sacred as the 
 Gospel. Joseph Smith even had a State scheme for 
 buying up and liberating all the slaves under certain 
 conditions and safeguards. 
 
 (2) The Mormons were advanced spiritualists, 
 believing in manifestations and messages from the 
 dead when ' all that sort of thing ' was tabooed as 
 'humbug' or denounced as 'diabolical.' In both 
 these matters the Morm.ons were about forty years 
 or more before their age, and suffered accordingly. 
 Ultimately the State adopted the Abolitionist view 
 for which these unhappy people were persecuted, and 
 the U.S.A. Government spent untold blood and trea- 
 sure in carrying Abolition by force instead of adopting 
 the pacific plans of Joseph Smith. 
 
 Ultimately, too, society at large has learned at 
 least to tolerate spiritualism and occultism, and some 
 of our foremost leading men of science and literature 
 now attest the truth of mediumistic and suchlike phe- 
 nomena, for which the Mormons were tarred and 
 feathered in the forties. 
 
 (3) Plural marriage has always been abhorrent to 
 Christian people, even among those who are prepared 
 to protect and legalise sexual irregularity, and wink 
 at other social evils of ever-increasing magnitude and 
 irrepressibility. 
 
 (4) The numerical increase of the Mormons 
 enabled them in many districts to give a casting 
 vote, to appoint State magistrates and even deputies 
 for Congress. Now, as the Mormons invariably re- 
 fused to place corrupt men in office, and declined 
 bribes, anyone who knows how politics are managed 
 
 
 If 
 
 r .f 
 
2/0 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 in AmLM-ica and the sort of people who pull the wires 
 and get many of the plums, can imagine the extent 
 to which the Mormon interference with ' political 
 business' aroused a powerful and organised political 
 hatred against them wherever they went. 
 
 They may have been ridiculed for their sui)cr- 
 stitions, but they were chiefly persecuted for their 
 virtues. 
 
 LXX 
 
 Death of the rkoi'HET. — Let us now hear the 
 end of Joseph Smith. 
 
 Soon after the destruction of the libellous ' Star ' 
 offices, when the thoroughfares of the beautiful and 
 stately Nauvoo were disfigured by ugly knots of mal- 
 contents, who thronged the squares and streets shout- 
 ing, ' Death to the Prophet ! ' a nucleus had been at 
 last formed, round which all the various elements of 
 disaffection could readily and plausibly gather. 
 
 From the neighbouring town of Carthage an 
 officer was despatched by Government to investigate 
 the matter. Thomas Fox, the officer, decided against 
 Smith, and advised him to surrender for trial. Know 
 ing what this meant, Smith declared he would not go 
 to Carthage to be assassinated by his enemies ; but 
 his vacillation, almost timidity, was now as remark- 
 able as his matchless foresight and courage had pre- 
 viously been. 
 
 He had the clearest forebodings of his coming 
 doom, which, however, he regarded with resignation, 
 as he intimated that perhaps his work was done, and 
 others would now be able to carry it on. 
 
 But he was sensibly drifting, and he knew it. 
 
^vires 
 xtcnt 
 litical 
 iiticai 
 
 supcr- 
 thcir 
 
 car the 
 
 ' Star ' 
 "ul and 
 of mal- 
 s shout- 
 been at 
 lents of 
 
 age an 
 [estigate 
 against 
 Know 
 not go 
 jes ; but 
 Iremark- 
 ad pre- 
 
 coming 
 
 Ignation, 
 
 )ne, and 
 
 it. 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 271 
 
 Like a man in a small open boat borne on by the 
 irresistible current of the Niagara Rapids toward the 
 
 Ci 
 
 he h( 
 
 the 
 
 roar of plungmg waters, 
 but he cannot stay his own frail bark. 
 
 Agitated by sucli sinister presentiments, at two 
 o'clock one morning Smith crossed the Mississippi, 
 intending to retire towards the Rocky Mountains, but 
 he had not gone far when a message overtook him 
 from his wife Emma, entreating him to give himself up 
 to the Government, as on the whole the safest course. 
 
 Firm no longer, he yielded, and rccrossed the 
 Mississippi, and on the same day, in company with 
 fifteen others charged with violating the Constitution, 
 he was conveyed into Carthage, under the strictest 
 promises of personal protection. 
 
 They entered the city at midnight, and, notwith- 
 standing the lateness of the hour, the streets were full 
 of excited people. An uproar seemed imminent. 
 Joseph passed through the crowd, amidst the lurid 
 glare of torches, and the shouting of a v/ild mob, who 
 threatened every instant to spring upon him, and tear 
 him from the guards. 
 
 The next day the Prophet was brought up before 
 the Court, charged with high treason ; what the sen- 
 tence might have been no one will ever know, for it 
 never was pronounced. The Governor, apparently in 
 perplexity, or seized with a panic, had suddenly left 
 the eity, and taken with him the only force available 
 for the protection of the doomed prisoner. 
 
 Joseph and his companions were confined in a 
 large upper room. 
 
 The day — one of those sultry days in June — wore 
 heavily on. 
 
 i S ' 
 
 '■ 
 
 i { I) 
 
 ^ii 
 
 I 
 
273 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 i; 
 
 About four o'clock they dined. It was a sad meal 
 — it was the last meal Joseph the Prophet and his 
 friends ever ate together. 
 
 Soon after, the Apostle John Taylor, happening 
 to glance out of the window, saw several ill-looking 
 fellows with blackened faces slink round the corner 
 of the gaol and disappear ; they were armed with 
 muskets anil crowbars. Were they making for the 
 entrance ? Would they attempt to force the gaol 
 door ? Could anyone prevent them .■' 
 
 The prisoners waited in the profound silence of 
 agonising suspense. I'^vcry noise, every footstep, was 
 listened for with intense anxiety. The tension v/as 
 growing unbearable. 1^'ive o'clock struck slowly. It 
 was the death-knell of the Mormons ; for at that 
 moment there reached them from below a clamour of 
 many voices — the report of firearms— a wild shout — 
 a mighty crash — the gaol door had been burst open, 
 and along the passage that led to the prisoners' room 
 came the rush and tramp of armed men. 
 
 William Richards, one of the Mormons, now 
 rushed to the door to oppose their entry ; a bullet was 
 sent through the panel, which hit Hyram Smith, the 
 I'rophet's brother, in the face. He cried out, * I am 
 a dead man ! ' and fell backwards. Joseph looked 
 towards him, and responded, ' O dear brother Hyram ! ' 
 He then went to the door, and holding it half open, 
 fired his revolver into the passage ; a dozen muskets 
 and pikes were immediately thrust into the room, but 
 Smith shot two men ; then the pistol hung fire. The 
 Mormon still held the door, but the pressure was be- 
 coming irresistible. A volley of balls came rattling 
 in ; the Mormon struggled and fell ; the door, torn 
 from its hinges, came down with a crash. 
 
 U, 
 
! 
 
 1 mciil 
 id his 
 
 )cninfj 
 x)king 
 corner 
 d with 
 for the 
 ic t^aol 
 
 3ncc oT 
 ep, was 
 ion v/as 
 ^'ly. It 
 at that 
 mour of 
 shout — 
 3t open, 
 -s' room 
 
 IS, now 
 llet was 
 lith, the 
 :, ' I am 
 looked 
 lyram ! ' 
 If open, 
 uskets 
 lom, but 
 e. The 
 was be- 
 I rattHng 
 l)or, torn 
 
 MORiMON T.ANl) 
 
 2/3 
 
 • The Prophet then rushed to the window and at - 
 tempted to leap out. At that moment he was pierced 
 by two balls, and fell into the prison yard below, cry- 
 ing as he fell, • O Lord, my God ! ' 
 
 The mob rushed into the yard. ' I reached my 
 head out of the window,' writes an eye-witness, ' re- 
 gardless of my own life, determined to see the end of 
 him whom I loved.* 
 
 The dying Prophet was now propped up against the 
 wall, and mutilated by his fall and his wounds, received 
 four more shots, which put an end to him. 
 
 ■ • * • • • • 
 
 At five o'clock in the afternoon next day the bodies 
 of Joseph and Hyram Smith were borne into the city 
 of Nauvoo -the ' beautiful ' Nauvoo which they had 
 founded. The whole population streamed out to meet 
 them. None knew till then how deeply the Prophet 
 was loved and reverenced by his {)e()ple ; even his 
 enemies seemed at last silenced and overawed. As 
 the densely thronged funeral procession passed along, 
 strong men were seen to weep, and the air was filled 
 with the sobbing and crying of women and children. 
 
 LXXI 
 
 Estimate of Joseph Smith.— The elements of 
 truth in the Mormon religion which explain its success, 
 as also the qualities of the Mormons which account for 
 their prosperity, are not far to seek nor hard to find ; 
 but I must defer for the moment any remarks upon 
 that aspect of the subject. 
 
 It is, however, impossible here not to ask and 
 attempt to answer one pressing question : 
 
 VOL. I T 
 
 
 U 
 
 
 > 1 I i 
 
2;4 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 '- 
 
 Was Joseph Smith himself an impostor ? 
 
 His career appears, it must be confessed, remark- 
 ably free from those stains of impurity which so often 
 mark the lives of unprincipled adventurers. His ad- 
 ministration at Nauvoo was brilliant, successful and 
 uncorrupt. The people beneath his rule were quiet, 
 honest and industrious. The general tone of morality 
 in the city (matrimonial premises being granted) was 
 sound if not elevated. These are stubborn facts, and 
 if a religion is to be known by its fruits it would be 
 difficult to ascribe the faith and works of the Mormons 
 to a totally impure source or a grossly immoral 
 prophet. 
 
 Did Smith lie when he reported his vision — lie 
 when he declared himself in possession of the golden 
 plates ? Did he, or the three witnesses, ever sec angels 
 or the plates in anything but a vision ? When Smith 
 dictated the translation by the aid of Urim and Thum- 
 mim behind a curtain, was he entranced ? Did he 
 practise automatic writing, or believe himself moved 
 to prophesy, or was he a conscious fraud all the time .'* 
 
 These are questions which it may be easier to 
 answer favourably to Smith now than it would have 
 been sixty years ago. Of late days, mainly through 
 the energy of Mr. Stead, the Psychical Society, Dr. 
 Charcot, and a crowd of hypnotists as they aie now 
 called, we have become somewhat wearisomely familiar 
 with the phenomena of trances, visions, apparitions, 
 and materialisations, clairaudience, clairvoyance, sug- 
 gestion, automatic writing, faith healing, and Christian 
 science. With the aid of these abnormal addenda of 
 occult science — now vouched for by Mr. Crookes, by 
 Mr. Wallace, our oldest, and Mr. Oliver Lodge, our 
 youngest scientist of first-class repute — it would, I 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 275 
 
 think, not be difficult to make out a fair case for 
 the integrity of Joseph Smith. Such an explanation 
 would not probably satisfy the Saints, but it has at 
 least the merit of clearing their Prophet's character 
 in the eyes of the outside world. 
 
 It is now, I suppose, evident that some people have 
 remarkable visions, which, howe r subjective they may 
 be in reality, appear to them at the time objective, as 
 indeed do all dreams while they last. 
 
 It is also certain that by suggestion others can be 
 got to see and feel what those in hypnotic rapport with 
 them see and feel, and no one can read the life of 
 Joseph Smith without strongly suspecting that those 
 who were much with him began to see and feel very 
 much what he said or thought he saw and felt. The 
 extraordinary and often half-paralysing fascination he 
 exercised over everyone with whom he had the op- 
 portunity of conversing may probably be referred, in 
 a measure, to the same cause ; indeed, at times and 
 with some people, we are all of us more or less mes- 
 meric and hypnotised. 
 
 I myself am disposed to believe that Smith, finding 
 himself subject to abnormal influences and in possession 
 of extraordinary powers which he did not understand 
 and could not always control, sometimes attempted 
 miracles that failed, whilst at other times he succeeded. 
 The effects produced upon him by his visions, and the 
 real powers he exercised, fairly convinced him that he 
 was an anointed prophet, and in possession of Divine 
 gifts, and being convinced himself, he not unnaturally 
 convinced others. The phenomenon is by no means 
 rare ; it is, indeed, of everyday occurrence. The phe- 
 nomenal foundations of Mormonism, in fact, differ if 
 
 T 2 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 , 1 
 
 > 
 
 1 
 
 : 
 
 ■ 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
 ii 
 
 I I 
 
 I \ 
 
 h 
 
 ^i 
 
 Ii >■ 
 
 276 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 at all, only in eccentricity and device from the psychic 
 phenomena which accompany all religious revivals from 
 the days of the Apostles to the Anabaptists of Munster 
 and the Irvingite tongues. 
 
 I shall pass over the sad monotony of those severe 
 persecutions which immediately followed the death of 
 the Prophet, and landed finally in the expulsion of 
 the Latter-Day Saints from Nauvoo. 
 
 I shall now have to accompany the fugitive Mor- 
 mons in their wanderings over not less than 2,000 miles 
 of wild and desolate country until they reach the pro- 
 mised land ; and I shall close with an eye-witness's 
 glimpse of Salt Lake City as it appeared to me under 
 the auspices of the Prophet Woodruff, who sits in the 
 seat of Brigham Young, the President, the Bishops, 
 and the twelve Apostles, who, in October 1893, were 
 good enough to show me their beautiful city and to 
 converse with me very freely upon their past history 
 and future prospects, and who, I am bound to say, 
 however mistaken we may believe them to be, did 
 not at all resemble those monsters of iniquity which 
 some people who have never been near them suppose 
 them to be. 
 
 VM 
 
 LXXII 
 
 The Exodus. — The murderers of Joseph and Hy- 
 ram Smith were easily arrested ; they were tried — and 
 acquitted. It was ruled that anyone who despatched 
 such vermin as the Prophet and his friends deserved 
 well of the Territory. This may have been fine 
 patriotism — it was hardly sound law ; but it had now 
 become evident that the law was not for the Mormons. 
 
 bl 
 
y^chic 
 from 
 inster 
 
 ;evere 
 ath of 
 ion of 
 
 ; Mor- 
 D miles 
 le pro- 
 itnes'-'s 
 I under 
 5 in the 
 ►ishops, 
 13, were 
 and to 
 
 history 
 to say, 
 
 be, did 
 which 
 
 uppose 
 
 nd Hy- 
 Id — and 
 )atched 
 ^served 
 m fine 
 lad now 
 )rmons. 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 277 
 
 The arrest of Brigham Young, who had been 
 chosen as Joseph's successor, was next considered 
 needful to ' stamp out the Mormons ; ' but one Mr. 
 Miller put on the Prophet's coat and hat, and, being 
 rather like him, marched out quietly and gave himself 
 up to the officers of justice ; nor did they discover 
 their mistake until they got their prisoner into Car- 
 thage gaol, when they had to discharge him. Mean- 
 while Brigham had judiciously gone into hiding. 
 
 * tf • • • • ft 
 
 The snow lay deep on the banks of the Missis- 
 sippi ; the river was frozen hard. In the distance, far 
 above the houses, rose the tall spire of the new temple 
 glittering in the pale sunlight. The scanty trees in 
 the valley were covered with snow. The fields and 
 prairie land, so lately bright with gold and crimson 
 flowers, lay bare and silent, and beyond, far as the 
 eye could reach, ranged the snowy summits of the 
 Illinois hills. It was at such a season of the year, in 
 the month of January, that the Mormons, pursued 
 and persecuted by their relentless foes, were forced to 
 leave the city they had reared with so much labour 
 and industry, and, gathering together as much of 
 their property as they could carry, crossed the Missis- 
 sippi on the ice. These were pioneers who. went to 
 prepare a way for those who should follow them in 
 the spring. Under the most favourable circumstances 
 an expedition of this kind is accompanied with great 
 danger and hardship. 
 
 The distance they had to travel was immense, the 
 country in many places was infested with hostile 
 Indians, they were badly supplied with provisions, 
 and the cold was intense. 
 
 The north-east winds, which come down in snowy 
 
 i s 
 
 
 
 i \ 
 
 \ I 
 
 1 V, 
 
i I 
 
 278 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 {} ■■ I : 
 
 ll i 
 
 gusts from the Iowa peninsula, swept the bleak prairies 
 over which they had to travci. The annual autumn 
 fires, which rage with tremendous fury over the grassy 
 flats, had left little wood fit for camp fires, and after a 
 hard day's march the night was often passed by the 
 pilgrims in restless efforts to keep themselves from 
 freezing to death ! Their food, too, soon proved 
 miserably inadequate, and as their systems became 
 impoverished, their sufferings from the cold increased. 
 Many fell a prey to catarrhal affections and acute 
 rheumatism, and almost all got dreadfully frost-bitten. 
 At times it took them the whole day to lim}. a few 
 slow miles through the deep snows, but still they 
 struggled bravely on. 
 
 .t 
 
 Spring came at last. It overtook them still on 
 the nakcrl prairie, not yet halfway across the tract of 
 land which lies between the Missouri and the Missis- 
 sippi rivers, and there they seemed likely to stop ; for 
 the sleet and rain, which appeared to the poor 
 Mormons to fall incessantly, had turned the impass- 
 able snowdrift into still more impassable mud ; the 
 streams, which they had crossed easily on the ice, 
 thawed and overflowed their banks, and as there was 
 often no wood fit for bridges, they had to halt some- 
 times for three or four weeks until the waters subsided. 
 These were dreary waitings upon Providence ! The 
 most spirited now began to lose courage. The 
 women, whose heroic fortitude had been proof against 
 every other misfortune, now began to complain that 
 the health of their children was giving way. The 
 March and April winds brought with them mortal 
 disease, and the frequent burials on the road made the 
 hardiest sicken. It is a strange tribute to the general 
 
 . f 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 i79 
 
 hopefulness of human nature that no one had thought 
 of providing undertakers' articles. The corpse was 
 usually folded up in the bark of trees and thus plunged 
 hurriedly into one of the undistinguishable waves of 
 the great land sea. Such graves mark all the line of 
 the first year of the Mormon march. But in the 
 midst of their troubles they did not forget their 
 brethren, and it is a most affecting proof of the fore- 
 thought and self-sacrifice of these poor people that 
 out of their scanty stores of grain they managed to 
 sow large tracts of arable land on the way, and there 
 left a future harvest for those to reap who would 
 follow them in the autumn. Before the end of spring 
 several caravans had set out from Nauvoo, but a 
 remnant was still left, and, strange to say, these people 
 employed their last days in finishing their beautiful 
 temple. Meanwhile, their enemies pressed on them 
 ruthlessly ; but they succeeded in parrying the last 
 sword thrust until they had completed even the gild- 
 ing of the angel on the summit of the lofty spire. At 
 high noon, under the bright May sunshine, they con- 
 secrated their temple to Divine service. Nothing 
 could exceed the pomp and magnificence of the 
 opening ceremony. It was said that the high ciders 
 of the sect travelled secretly from the camp of Israel 
 into the wilderness, and throwing off their disguise, 
 appeared in their own stately robes of office to give 
 the ceiemony splendour. 
 
 
 t ' 
 
 li 
 
 But the last days of Nauvoo had now arrived. 
 The remaining Mormons had obtained a truce in 
 order to sell their lands and possessions ; but long 
 before the appointed time their enemies lost all 
 patience, and in September 1 844 troops entered the 
 
28o 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 h 
 It J 
 
 e' I 
 
 city and drove out the remain in<^ inhabitants. None 
 were spared : weakly mothers and their infants, 
 dcHcate younj^ pjirls, old and infirm men, bereaved 
 and sick jjcople -they drove them from their lands 
 and houses, they drove them from their homesteads 
 and their workshops. The carpenter left his bench 
 and shavings, tlic spinner left his wheel, the tanner 
 left the fresh bark in his vat, the blacksmith his coal 
 heaps and mass of unwrought iron. They left the 
 ashes white upon the hearths, they left the unfinished 
 meal. Outside, the dahlias and the poppies, the crim- 
 son hollyhocks and the golden sunflowers, stood 
 blooming in the Mormon gardens. Fields upon fields 
 of heavy-headed yellow corn lay rotting, ungathcrcd, 
 far as the e}c could reach, stretching away in the 
 hazy autumn light like a rippling sea of gold. 
 
 Night came on, and the homeless wanderers en- 
 camped on the dreary flats of the river. There, 
 among the dock and rushes, sheltered only by the 
 darkness, crowds of human beings lay down for the 
 night. Dreadful indeed were the sufferings of these 
 forsaken people, bowed and cramped with cold and 
 sunburn, as the hot days succeeded the cold of bitter 
 nights. They could not satisfy the feeble cravings 
 of their sick ; they had not bread to quiet the fractious 
 hunger cries of their children. Mothers and babes, 
 daughters and granddaughters, were bivouacked in 
 tatters, without even the covering to comfort those 
 whom the sick shiver of fever was searching to the 
 very marrow. But still they struggled on Many 
 caravans had passed before them, and soon they began 
 to reap the produce of rich fields, and to avail them- 
 selves of the landmarks traced out by their fore- 
 runners. Thus they were not without their consola- 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 281 
 
 lions; but as the autumn advancctl,andthc rainyscason 
 set in, disease increased, and at last, to crown all, a 
 sort of plague broke out. The distress of the Saints 
 now exceeded all their previous sufferings. In some 
 caravans the fever prevailed to such an extent that 
 hardly any escaped. They let their cows go unmilked ; 
 they wanted voices to raise the psalm on Sundays 
 The few who were able to keep on their feet went 
 about amongst the tents and waggons with food and 
 water like nurses through the wards of an infirniary. 
 Here, at one time, the digging got behindhand, burials 
 were slow, and you might see women sit in the open 
 tents keeping the flies off their dead children who 
 waited in vain for burial. 
 
 Thus passed the autumn and the following winter, 
 and when the spring came round things began to 
 mend. First, f1">ere were stations all along the route, 
 travelling became comparatively safe and easy, and 
 then there were great station camps established for 
 the relief of those smaller bands of fugitives who 
 were constantly arriving in a state of complete ex- 
 haustion. Nothing could exceed the eager hope with 
 which these small bands of fugitives would push on 
 for the great Papillon camp. 
 
 The following incident, which occurred there, is 
 a touching illustration of Mormon hopefulness and 
 energy. Poor Meriman was a joyous-hearted and 
 clever fellow whose songs and fiddle tunes had been 
 the life of Nauvoo in its merry days. When he set 
 out he was recovering from an illness, and the fatigue 
 of marching with a child on his back brought on a 
 speedy relapse ; but this made him only the more 
 anxious to reach the camp. For more than a week of 
 
 f. 
 
 I ;: 
 
 it ' 
 
 ii .1 
 
 1; • 
 
 1 '' 
 
 i ^' 
 
 
ii 
 
 282 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 the dog-star weather he laboured on under a high fever> 
 walking every day till he was quite exhausted. His 
 limbs failed him at last, but his courage holding out, 
 he got into his covered cart and bade them drive him 
 on. ' I'm nothing on earth ailing,' he said, ' I'm only 
 home-sick ; I'm cured the moment I get to the camp 
 and see the brethren.' Thus he kept up the spirits 
 of those about him, and they held on their way until 
 he was within a few hours' journey of the camp. He 
 entered on his last day's march with the energy of 
 increased hope. The poor fellow was nearly used up, 
 but declared he was getting better. About noon, 
 however, he grew restless to know accurately the 
 distance travelled ; then he asked more frequently 
 for water, he was consumed by a burning thirst. A 
 film soon gathered over his eyes ; after this he lay 
 very quiet, as if husbanding all his strength for a final 
 effort. He was now quite blind, and admitted that 
 this was rather discouraging, but said he should still 
 hear the brethren's voices. His sufferings increased, 
 but when asked by the woman who was driving the 
 cart whether they should stop, he gasped out, * No, no ; 
 go on, go on.' The anecdote ends badly. They brought 
 him in dead about five o'clock in the afternoon. He 
 had on his clean clothes. He had dressed himself 
 carefully in the morning, for he ' was going to the camp 
 to see the brethren.' 
 
 LXXIII 
 
 Arrival at Salt Lake. — On July 23, 1847, 
 the first body of emigrants, under the guidance of 
 Orson Pratt, Saint and Apostle, reached the land of 
 promise. The pilgrims stood at length by the shore 
 
\ 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 283 
 
 of that mighty inland sea called Great Salt Lake, 
 and gazed out upon its waste of silent waters ; tide- 
 less and calm it lay before them in blinding sheets of 
 light. The shores of the lake were thickly strewn 
 with a white salt crust, which lay broken into crystals 
 and glittering around them like thousands of scattered 
 gems. Through the translucent air the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, in reality fifteen or twenty miles distant, seemed 
 only half an hour's walk from the margin of the lake. 
 The varied outline of cape and promontory floated 
 away on either side into far perspective, whilst the 
 nearer summits, flooded with sunshine, lay like shining 
 jasper in the central blue. 
 
 As the devout Jew bows himself to the ground 
 when first he comes in sight of the Holy City, as the 
 Eastern pilgrim prostrates himself three times when 
 first he perceives the glittering walls and towers of 
 Mecca, so did these pilgrims of the Far West bend 
 their knees in joy and thankfulness to the Father of 
 lights when first they came apon the shining levels of 
 the Great Salt Lake. 
 
 It is characteristic of the practical character of 
 the Mormon administration, that within two days of 
 reaching the Salt Lake plain four acres of potatoes 
 had been planted. In a few weeks the rough camp- 
 ing-out tents had been superseded by about eight 
 hundred log huts, and in a month or two more the 
 Salt Lake City was already mapped out — Tabernacle, 
 Temple and all — a system of irrigation resolved upon, 
 whilst round the settlement rose a thick wall of adobe 
 or sun-dried mud to keep out the prowling Indians. 
 These wild men were the new settlers* only neigh- 
 bours, and rather troublesome ones they sometimes 
 proved ; but the wisdom of Brigham soon dealt with 
 
 '. a I 
 
 I 
 
 &■ 
 
 !i 
 
 : 3 
 
 ( I 
 
284 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 'T i 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 U' 
 
 \ i 
 
 I i 
 
 
 them, and his famous dictum, ' It is cheaper to feed 
 than to fij^lit the Indians,' struck the keynote of his 
 metliod ; still Brigham knew how to be firm, and the 
 Red Man had occasionally to be shot down along 
 with the mountain lion ; but, as a rule, there was 
 peace between the fugitives and the savages, and a 
 Mormon could go up and down Utah in safety 
 because he was recognised as the Indian's friend. 
 Still there were sometimes daijl Indians — i.e. in- 
 dividual prowlers, who were known to be grasping 
 and even violent. One of these came round to a log 
 hut, and found a Mormon's wife alone in the house. 
 He instantly demanded food ; the lady, with great 
 composure, replied very civilly that she would be 
 glad to feed him, but she only had half a dozen dog 
 biscuits in the house : she would, however, give him 
 two. He ate them, and, like Oliver Twist, 'asked for 
 more.' With some reluctance she gave him another, 
 which the savage devoured, and then got violent and 
 threatened to scalp her. Trembling inwardly, but 
 never losing her presence of mind, the Mormon 
 heroine at last bade her terrible guest wait a minute, 
 and she would look for more food. In the back room 
 lay an enormous mastiff ; she opened the door, and, 
 at a sign from his mistress, in a moment the faithful 
 animal bounded out and buried his fangs in the 
 Indian's thigh, who fell to the ground with a howl, 
 much hurt and still more terrified. The mastiff held 
 him like a vice. The Mormon lady stood for a 
 moment proudly over her prostrate foe, and at his 
 piteous entreaty at last called off the dog. The 
 blood was streaming from the Indian's thigh, and the 
 ' Indian's friend ' now fetched a basin of water, and 
 staunched the wound ; then, after strapping up the 
 
 \ 
 
 v\ 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 feed 
 
 ; his 
 
 [ the 
 
 long 
 was 
 
 nd a 
 
 afcty 
 
 icnd. 
 
 :. in- 
 
 sping 
 
 a log 
 
 \ousc. 
 
 great 
 
 Id be 
 
 n dog 
 
 e him 
 
 :ed for 
 
 lother, 
 
 ^t and 
 but 
 
 ormon 
 inutc, 
 room 
 , and, 
 
 laithful 
 
 the 
 
 howl, 
 
 if held 
 for a 
 at his 
 The 
 tid the 
 r, and 
 ip the 
 
 n 
 
 285 
 
 i 
 
 leg, she sent the ' bad Indian ' away limping, with 
 a parting injunction not to molest Mormon women 
 again in their homes. Thus the wild tribes soon 
 learned to fear as well as respect the whites at the 
 Salt Lake. 
 
 By 1848, 5,000 acres of land had been laid undef 
 cultivation, but in the fall of the year appeared 
 .swarms of black locusts. Against this new horror 
 the people at first seemed powerless. They formed 
 themselves into bands and tried to stamp out the 
 plague with fire, sticks, and trenches ; the insects lay 
 dead in huge piles, but still more came on, till, as the 
 Mormons believe, in answer to their prayer appeared 
 a white gull. Then gulls by fifties, hundreds, 
 thousands. They came in flocks over the Salt 
 Lake, settled down in the fields, gorged and vomited, 
 and gorged again, until there was not a live locust 
 left. No wonder the gull at Salt Lake is a sacrcu 
 bird, and to this day no one is allowed to shoot it. 
 
 When Brigham Young raised himself feebly, still 
 suffering from malarious fever, in Apostle WoodrufTs 
 carriage, to take his first glance at the site of Salt 
 Lake City, he beheld through the opening rifts in the 
 mountains a vast alkali plain, stunted brush growths, 
 here and there a tree on the hill-sides, indications of 
 fresh water, and beyond all the wide expanse of the 
 great lake, with an horizon like that of the sea. * This 
 is the place,' he murmured, and sinking back in the 
 carriage he seemed lost in a dream. * Many things,' 
 adds his devoted friend Woodruff, now himself head 
 of the Mormons, * were revealed to Brother Brigham 
 at that time in a vision concerning the future of his 
 people.' * This is the place ; ' but it must be confessed 
 
 ) 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 
 t 
 
 Y 
 
 i 
 
 n 
 
 n 
 
286 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 . 
 
 l\ 
 
 i 
 
 that, on nearer inspection, blank disappointment 
 seized on many of his followers. * O what a barren 
 land is this, and void of all content,' they might well 
 sing. The ladies wept, and some of the elders 
 advocated pushing on into more fertile territory, or 
 even settling down in California. But with a really 
 prophetic sagacity Brigham stood firm. His people 
 could alone be trained by continuing to fight 
 difficulties. 
 
 To train up a righteous nation — to spread the 
 new gospel — to develop character — to people the 
 waste places of the earth and break up the fallow 
 land — this was the mission of the Mormons, not to 
 amass wealth or live at ease, or aim at luxury or 
 the achievement of any earthly glory or renown. 
 Brigham, especially as time went on, was not in- 
 sensible to the material prosperity of his people or 
 his own ; he has even been accused of greed and love 
 of money. There can be no doubt that he was a 
 very rich man, though not so rich as some thought ; 
 the distinction also between what belonged to the 
 prophet and what belonged to the Church was not 
 carefully defined. He had a convenient item called 
 ^/o?' services rendered to the Churchy' which enabled 
 him to balance accounts with — so it was said — 
 undue facility. 
 
 He solemnly warned his people against the craze 
 for Californian gold, although his people were the 
 first to discover it ; he often used his influence to pre- 
 vent migration from the city and its territory, yet the 
 Mormons were the first to start the Pacific Union 
 Railroad, and they say Brigham got fat on the con- 
 tract. The mines of Utah — only half explored — 
 were not the first source of wealth attended to, but 
 
 i \ 
 
 y-' 
 
m 
 
 tment 
 )arren 
 t well 
 elders 
 )ry, or 
 really 
 people 
 fight 
 
 id the 
 e the 
 
 fallow 
 not to 
 ury or 
 enown. 
 aot in- 
 ople or 
 id love 
 : was a 
 ought ; 
 ;o the 
 
 as not 
 called 
 
 nabled 
 
 said — 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 287 
 
 they were not neglected. If to get rich was not the 
 first thing put before the needy, to be thrifty was, and 
 a great co-operative store enabled the Saints to buy 
 in a cheap market, whilst their own mother-wit taught 
 them how to sell in a dear one. 
 
 In 1850 the settlement of Utah territory was a fact 
 no longer to be ignored by the United States Govern- 
 ment. Brigham Young and the leading inhabitants 
 of Salt Lake City now applied, in 1849, for a terri- 
 torial government * of the most liberal construction to 
 be authorised by our most excellent Federal Constitu- 
 tion with the least possible delay.' 
 
 In 1 85 1 news at last reached Brigham that he 
 was himself appointed Governor, and he took the 
 oath of office February 3, 185 1. From this time up 
 to 1857 the development of Utah territory went on 
 rapidly and, with the exception of some occasional 
 difficulties with the Indians, peacefully. About 
 10,000 emigrants had arrived from P2ngland — ' the 
 flower, as it seemed to me,' says Dickens, * of the 
 English artisan class ' — not * the dregs of the people,' 
 as is generally supposed. From Salt Lake City 
 radiated continually streams of colonists, carrying 
 with them all the trades and equipments of civilised 
 life. Sanpete, Tooele, Sevier, and Iron counties were 
 explored, until the Mormon offshoots occupied the 
 country extending over 1,000 miles from Mexico to 
 Canada, and their numerous trim towns and villages 
 are now to be found in the valleys of the mountains 
 in nearly every State and Territory of the mighty 
 West. 
 
 a' 
 
 
 .• li 
 
 » 
 
288 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 LXXIV 
 
 mi 
 
 £ 
 
 
 ih .; 
 
 
 y- 
 
 The Great Rebellion (?).— A good deal has 
 been said about Mormon rebellion and sedition ; but 
 from the first, in the teeth of the greatest injustice 
 and persecution, the Mormons have shown themselves 
 loyal to the United States Constitution, and Brigham 
 was always careful to draw a distinction between the 
 U.S.A. Government and the unscrupulous men who 
 occasionally maladministered it. 
 
 The judges and other law officers that arrived 
 from Washington were treated scrupulously accord- 
 ing to their merits. Judge Brocchus and Secretary 
 Harris neither gave nor received satisfaction, and 
 they had to go, and, of course, every unpopular official 
 on his return to Washington libelled the Mormons. 
 But Judges Reed, Shower, and Kinney were very 
 popular, and the Mormons have never lacked warm 
 friends amongst the best type of American official 
 and Government employee. But the tug of war was 
 not far off. 
 
 There are few episodes in Mormon history more 
 characteristic of the earlier relations of the States 
 Government to Mormondom than what is already 
 known in history as * President Buchanan's blunder ' 
 — the march of an army across a continent to put 
 down a rebellion which never existed ! 
 
 Two judges — Stiles and Drummond — had made 
 themselves very unpopular by certain arbitrary pro- 
 ceedings, setting aside the authority of the Probate 
 Courts. Stiles threw up office and hurried back to 
 Washington to report that the Mormons had burnt 
 the State records - an absolute lie. Drummond 
 
aauaamm 
 
 "T^' 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 289 
 
 remained, and might have pulled through had he not 
 insisted on seating beside him in court a lady, who 
 was certainly no better than she should be, and whom 
 he called Mrs. Drummond ; but that too was an 
 absolute lie, and it was discovered that he had left 
 the real Mrs. Drummond and her family behind in 
 the Eastern States. Judge Drummond soon found 
 the Salt Lake City very unpleasant as a place of 
 residence for an im.moral man, and so he joined Judge 
 Stiles at Washington, declaring the Mormons to be 
 in a state of open rebellion against the U.S.A. 
 Government, as was evident from the expulsion of 
 two judges ! 
 
 
 'M. 
 
 ' i: 
 
 I 
 
 It is almost inconceivable that President Buchanan 
 should have acted simply on the representation of 
 these prejudiced and by no means immaculate 
 officials, but in reality there wa? wheel within wheel. 
 The secret history I only learned from the lips of the 
 Prophet WoodrutT at Salt Lcke. It was convenient 
 at this moment for the wire-pullers in Buchanan's 
 cabinet to send off an army to attack the Mormons 
 on any pretext. A powerful section of Buchanan's 
 cabinet favoured secession, and to weaken the home 
 forces at that moment would of course encourage the 
 Southern rebellion whilst having all the appearance 
 of echoing the popular cry, * Down with slavery and 
 polygamy! An attack on polygamy was thus the 
 very thing to blind the public to the Secessionist 
 policy of the Buchanan cabinet, and Buchanan, who 
 was never really a Secessionist^ fell into the trap. 
 
 A sumptuously equipped army was accordingly 
 despatched, under command of General Johnstone 
 and Mr. Cumings was sent out to supersede 
 VOL. I U 
 
 
 \ ! 
 
 ! 
 
 .i 
 
290 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I'* 
 
 \i '' 
 
 Governor Brigham Young, whose term of office was 
 nearly up. 
 
 In June of 1857 rumours of strange teams — of 
 armed scouts — always occupied with ' the Indians 'of 
 course, reached Salt Lake. 
 
 The U.S.A. invasion of Utah was conducted with 
 the utmost secrecy. But Brigham, who had good 
 information, with characteristic caution immediately 
 put the city in a state of defence and reconstituted 
 the Nauvoo legion. 
 
 Next it turned out that the mails to Salt Lake 
 were stopped. 
 
 On July 23, 1857, three breathless horsemen rode 
 into the city — Major Swift, Judson Stoddard, and 
 Foster Rochwell. They had come 500 miles in five 
 days and three hours. Most of the people were out 
 holiday-making in the hills. On hearing the startling 
 news that a U.S.A. army was advancing upon Utah, 
 Brigham instantly called a council of war. It was a 
 great moment, and the Mormon leader rose at once 
 to the occasion. * Liars,' he said to the council, ' have 
 reported that this people have committed treason. 
 The President has ordered out troops against us. I 
 feel that I can't bear such treatment ; and as for any 
 nation coming to destroy this people, God Almighty 
 being my helper, it shall not be.' 
 
 Meanwhile, in the hostile camp, * On to Utah ! 
 War and extermination ! ' was the popular cry. 
 
 An advanced courier next arrived with informa- 
 tion that Brigham Young was officially superseded 
 as Governor by Mr. Cumings. For that, Brigham 
 said, he cared not a jot, and he would lay down his 
 governorship willingly under lawful authority at the 
 
-=T^ " 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 291 
 
 was 
 
 —of 
 s'of 
 
 with 
 good 
 ately 
 tuted 
 
 Lake 
 
 1 rode 
 [, and 
 n five 
 re out 
 artling 
 Utah, 
 I was a 
 once 
 have 
 eason. 
 us. I 
 )r any 
 nighty 
 
 Utah ! 
 
 forma- 
 irseded 
 [igham 
 m his 
 lat the 
 
 expiration of his term of office, but he was still 
 Governor, and the troops should not come within 
 thirty miles of the city. There was no rebellion — no 
 troops were wanted. He remembered New Sion 
 and Nauvoo ; he would not allow the soldiers to be 
 turned loose on his helpless community. He had 
 therefore armed, and he would resist aggression, 
 hoping the Government would see its error. If that 
 failed, he would lay waste the land, fire the city, and, 
 retreating en viasse into the mountains, leave a second 
 Moscow blazing before the eyes of a victorious but 
 starving and vanquished foe. * We have borne 
 enough,' he cried, ' and we will bear no more. Come 
 on, with your thousands of illegally ordered troops, 
 and I promise you, in the name of Israel's God, 
 that they shall melt away as snow before a July 
 sun.' Could the prophet at that moment have seen 
 in a vision the final discomfiture of that proud army, 
 he could not have uttered words more triumphant 
 and more true. 
 
 Captain Van Vliet, who arrived to parley and 
 smooth matters if possible, was taken so much aback 
 at the Mormon attitude and the real state of affairs, 
 that he sat down and wrote out a report, stating that 
 there was no rebellion, that it was all a mistake, and 
 soon hurried off to Washington to present his 
 memorial in person and explain the truth. The 
 cabinet were so ashamed when the real facts at last 
 dawned upon them, viz. that no State records had 
 been burned, and that the people had never rebelled, 
 and were quite willing to accept Governor Cumings 
 or anyone else who would behave decently, that 
 Van Vliet's report, as also Governor Cumings' dc- 
 
 u 2 
 
 K 
 
 \\\ 
 
 Hi 
 
I '■:, I 
 
 292 
 
 Travel awo Talk 
 
 spatches, were never published, and the contents of 
 these documents only leaked out by degrees long 
 afterwards. I had this from the lips of Woodruff and 
 the elders in 1893. Meanwhile the army — now com- 
 manded by General Johnstone {N.B. : nominee of the 
 Secessionist members of Buchanan's cabinet, who after- 
 wards died fighting for Jeff Davis in the SoutJiern 
 ranks) —the army, as usual, wanted to do something. 
 They bullied and swore, but Brigham kept them in 
 the mountains all through the winter, cut off their 
 supplies, and only allowed them to buy food and 
 provender so long as they abandoned all thought 
 of advance ; and — last triumph — installed Governor 
 Cumings peacefully as his successor, giving him every 
 facility to enter upon his high office. In fact Brig- 
 ham sowed such dissension between Governor Cum- 
 ings and the commanding general, who was supposed 
 to be supporting his claim by force of arms, that 
 Cumings could hardly be prevented from fighting a 
 duel with the general ! 
 
 After this, Brigham's statesmanship will scarcely 
 be called in question. He had reduced the army to 
 impotency and its leaders to mere puppets. Without 
 his leave neither could the army advance nor the 
 Governor take his seat. Brigham's letters and State 
 papers to General Johnstone, Governor Cumings, 
 and Buchanan's cabinet are extremely racy and 
 splendidly brave and resolute ; but he did not 
 measure his language nor attempt to hide his indig- 
 nation, and throughout his aim was undoubtedly to 
 avoid the shedding of innocent blood. His pro- 
 clamation to the people gives us a taste of his 
 quality, * We are condemned unheard ' (the Govern- 
 
 It 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 293 
 
 mcnt had refused a commission of inquiry, finding 
 itself in the wrong), 'we are forced to an issue 
 with an armed mercenary mob sent against us at the 
 instigation of anonymous letter writers, ashamed to 
 father the base slanderous falsehoods which they 
 have given to the public — of corrupt officials (Judges 
 Drummond and Stiles), who have brought false accu- 
 sations against us to screen themselves, and of hire- 
 ling priests and howling editors who prostitute the 
 truth for filthy lucre's sake.' He then declared the 
 city and territory under martial law. 
 
 Whilst Brigham, hand-in-glovc with Governor 
 Cumings, was making a brave stand for his people 
 and keeping the United States army at bay, he lost 
 no time in sending off to President Buchanan, Colonel 
 Kane, a gentleman who, though favourable to the 
 Mormons, he knew also to be a persona grata at 
 Washington. The Colonel was to interview the 
 President, answer all questions, and explain the nature 
 of the mistake which led to the despatch of the army. 
 
 S"' 
 
 fly to 
 pro- 
 his 
 ;^ern- 
 
 On February 28, 1858, the Colonel returned to 
 Salt Lake with a Government * full and free pardon ' 
 for all past seditions, &c. Brigham wrote back : 
 * I thank President Buchanan for forgiving me, but 
 I really cannot tell what I have done. I know one 
 thing, and that is that the people called Mormons are 
 a loyal and law-abiding people, and ever have been.' 
 A slight allusion to burning the army supplies, with a 
 dignified apology, and the rebellion (!) was at an end. 
 
 Then came the spoiling of the Egyptians. The 
 war of North against South broke out. Orders arrived 
 to disband for reconstitution and sell up the army 
 stores. The Mormons went over and bought every- 
 
294 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 '^ 
 
 I i 
 
 ^ 'I 
 
 thing they wanted at what the French tei-m prix 
 cmhetants, or what the Yankees call ' slaughter prices ; ' 
 and Mr. Q. Cannon assured me that the great burst of 
 Mormon prosperity, comfort, and luxury dates from 
 the selling up of the United States army sent to put 
 down the Mormon rebellion. Truly a case of sic vos 
 non vobis ! 
 
 LXXV 
 
 U.S.A. Presidents and the Mormons. — 
 It may be interesting to notice here the attitude of 
 successive U.S.A. Presidents towards the Mormons. 
 Buchanan, as we see, made the amende honorable when 
 he had to face the facts. The following anecdotes, 
 told me by Prophet Woodruff, the present Prophet, 
 are very characteristic of President Lincoln : * What,' 
 asked a senator, * do you intend to do with this Mor- 
 mon plague spot } ' * Wal,' said Lincoln, slowly, 
 ' there's a log in my field so thick my teams won't 
 move it, and so damp it won't burn ; so I said I reckon 
 I'll just " plough round it." And I guess it will do just 
 to plough round these Mormons.' But when Lincoln 
 wanted a brave and reliable frontier guard to protect 
 his postal service during the great war of North 
 against South, he sent to the Mormons, for, he said, 
 ' I reckon they'll just do ; I can trust 'em.' 
 
 President Grant was no friend of the Saints, but 
 in 1875 he resolved to visit Salt Lake City and see 
 for himself. 
 
 The announcement created unbounded enthusiasm. 
 The whole city turned out in holiday costume. The 
 stars and stripes were seen flying from every flagstaff 
 
 i 
 
 ■*ii 
 
irnmn 
 
 ;* —'y 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 295 
 
 and pinnacle. A special car was despatched with a 
 Mormon bodyguard to meet the President, Mrs. 
 Grant, and suite. 
 
 Dense throngs, as for a coronation, lined all the 
 road from the station to the court-house, but the 
 President was first met by thousands of white-robed 
 children. As he looked at the happy, healthy faces 
 and then at the masses of well-dressed loyal citizens of 
 both sexes, * Whose are these children ? ' asked the 
 President. * These are the children of the Mormons,' 
 was the reply. The President leant back in his carriage 
 silent for a moment — he was at all times a man of 
 few words — then he said, * I have been deceived about 
 the Mormons.' 
 
 In the vast tabernacle he heard the great organ 
 and the choir of five hundred young Mormon men 
 and women. Mrs. Grant was moved to tears, and 
 turning to her husband, said, ' Oh, I should like to do 
 something for these good Mormon people.' The 
 President was surprised to find a flourishing university 
 and so many schools and such splendid buildings. 
 He was introduced to the Mormon families, and 
 President Q. Cannon acted as an excellent cicerone 
 and drove him over the city and its environs. Brig- 
 ham Young and the President parted with expressions 
 of mutual goodwill. 
 
 LXXVI 
 
 The PolyCxAMY Fight. — The halcyon calm was 
 not to last. The law against polygamy of 1862 
 had been almost a dead letter ; it was revived and 
 enforced by the legislation of 1881, and a still more 
 stringent injunction of 1887. It was clear the 
 
 4 
 
296 
 
 Tkavkl and Talk 
 
 1 1 
 
 It ' 
 
 Government were at this time in earnest, and Presi- 
 dent Harrison was not slow to gain what popularity 
 he could by identifying his lease of power with the 
 abolition of the universally hated practice. 
 
 Thousands of Mormon girls born and bred in the 
 system, who thought they had been leading lives as 
 blameless as those of Sarah and Rebecca held up 
 in the Church Service for our general imitation, were 
 now declared fit to rank only with the lowest of the 
 low. For fifty years the practice had almost been 
 countenanced by the United States of America. 
 There was consternation and weeping in Salt Lake 
 City ; the women do not appear to have considered 
 the Act of 1 887 against polygamy one of emancipa- 
 tion at all ; they were furious at not being allowed 
 to retain or ' to choose their own husbands,' and 
 3,000 of them — the pick of the Utah ladies — met 
 in the large tabernacle to protest. 
 
 In vain ! Fathers were arrested, fined, or im- 
 prisoned for a term of years. Gentile informers and 
 spies, the drunken dregs of the Christian populace, 
 dogged the footsteps of the Saints. The rage of 
 persecution set in. 
 
 Bishop Colenso's suggestion on behalf of the Zulu 
 plural marriages — that existing ties should be recog- 
 nised, and no new marriages admitted — was at one 
 time considered, and the Government seemed half 
 inclined to back it, but the fury of Christian virtue 
 was aroused, and nothing but a ' root and branch 
 policy ' found favour with Congress. Outward pro- 
 sperity was now succeeded by mourning, lamentation, 
 and woe ; many fields and gardens were left unculti- 
 vated ; trade languished ; many Saints and their 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 297 
 
 families fled ; women and children wandered home- 
 less and unprotected ; the bread-winner was in hid- 
 ing or in prison ; fines ruined others. Not only 
 polygamy, but the community itself seemed at the 
 point of dispersion or extinction, when one of those 
 timely revelations came to the Prophet Woodruff, 
 which once more saved the situation. 
 
 It seemed now the will of the Lord that, polygamy 
 having been at last declared illegal by the highest 
 U.S.A. tribunal, it should be frankly and fully aban- 
 doned. 
 
 LXXVII 
 
 Brigham's last Days.— But I have slightly 
 anticipated the march of events, and it remains for 
 me to trace in a few words the closing days of 
 Brigham Young. 
 
 He lived long enough to hand over the civil 
 government of Utah to the United States of America ; 
 to meet the President of the United States on friendly 
 terms in the City of the Saints ; to go to prison pen- 
 dente lite for the doctrine of polygamy ; to see the 
 free admission of the Gentile {alias outside Christian) 
 world into the City of the Saints, and with it those 
 apparently inseparable adjuncts of Christian civilisa- 
 tion, the gambling hell, the gin palace, and the house 
 of ill fame, none of which institutions were tolerated, 
 or even called for, under the despotic and licentious 
 rule of Brigham Young. 
 
 Brigham lived also to show an enlightened interest 
 in the organisation of charity and the higher education 
 of women. 
 
 The Salt Lake Charity Organisation Society was 
 
ii 
 
 I! i\ 
 
 K 
 . 1, 
 ■l 
 
 298 
 
 Travkl and Talk 
 
 placed entirely under the management of a committee 
 ot'ladies ; a RetrencI'mcnt Association to teach women 
 how to economise time, labour, and money, and thus 
 be more free to educate their minds ; a young ladies' 
 Mutual Improvement Society, including lectures and 
 essays on science, literature, and the arts, was also a 
 favourite interest of the Prophet's declining years. 
 
 ill 
 
 
 11 
 
 I ' 
 
 Brigham Young's last public appearance was 
 well in tune with the best side of his nature. He 
 preached very earnestly shortly before his death to 
 the assembled Saints on the duty of taking the 
 Sacrament, and of bringing up children in the fear 
 of the Lord and in habits of strict purity, industry, 
 and honesty. 
 
 Soon afterwards he took to his bed (August 29, 
 1877). His last words were, 'Joseph! Joseph! 
 Joseph ! ' This is, perhaps, the greatest tribute that 
 ever has, or ever will be, paid to the memory of Joseph 
 Smith, the founder of Mormonism. 
 
 It is not for me to estimate in a sentence the 
 character of so strange a man as Brigham Young. 
 His achievement remains and challenges the criticism 
 of the whole world. Of him it may be said that, 
 with faults of temper, an iron will, a fanatical faith, 
 and a hand not always scrupulous in selecting means 
 to ends, he was nevertheless the founder of Utah, a 
 great coloniser, a great statesman, a great ruler of 
 men, and in every sense of the word and altogether 
 and very much the father of his people. 
 
V! 
 
 Mormon Land 
 
 299 
 
 LXXVIII 
 
 Salt Lake City.— I visited the Salt Lake City 
 in 1893. Being very kindly entertained, I naturally 
 received a roseate impression ; this is what I have 
 tried to convey to my readers. 
 
 Before the Mormon President Cannon left Fran- 
 cisco, I had addressed to him a letter, expressing, 
 in answer to some kind words of his, a hope that 
 I should be able to visit Salt Lake City, and offering 
 to deliver a lecture to the Mormons. I soon after- 
 wards received the following letter from him : 
 
 ' Palace Hotel, San Francisco, Cal. : 
 'Oct. 2, 1893. 
 
 • Reverend Sir, — Your kind note, expressive of 
 your feelings concerning the giving of your lecture 
 " Music and Noise " at Salt Lake City during your 
 proposed visit, came to hand on Saturday too late for 
 me to call upon you and learn from you further particu- 
 lars. I fully expected to do so to-day ; but I find it 
 impossible to do so. It was notcntircly clear whether 
 there would be a charge for admission to the lecture, 
 or whether you intended it for the gratification of a 
 certain number of friends. It was to obtain a clearer 
 understanding upon this point that I thought it better 
 to see you than to write, as upon this would depend 
 the size of the hall where the lecture would be 
 delivered. 
 
 ' In my absence, would it be asking too much of 
 you to call at the office of a young friend of mine. 
 Col. Isaac Trumbo, Room 22, fifth floor of the Mills 
 Building, Montgomery Street, who will communicate 
 your views to me ? 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
^! 
 
 300 
 
 Travki. and Talk 
 
 ' I dislike to put you to this trouble ; but as there 
 appears to be some uncertainty about finding you at 
 the Irving Institute, this plan suggested itself to me. 
 
 * Your lecture, I am sure, will be listened to with 
 pleasure, and I shall be gratified to see you at Salt 
 Lake City, and will do what I can to make your visit 
 interesting to you. 
 
 • I am, 
 
 ' Very respectfully, 
 
 'Geo. O. Cannon. 
 
 ' Rev. H. R. Haweis.' 
 
 Mr. Cannon certainly fulfilled his promise. I 
 was met by Bishop Clawson in a smart' trap, and, after 
 conducting me to a comfortable hotel where he had 
 engaged rooms, he called for me in about an hour, 
 and it was then that he drove me to visit the Prophet 
 Woodruff, whom I found sitting in conclave in the 
 House of Assembly. The successor of Brigham 
 Young, Arch-President Woodruff, is an agreeable 
 and shrewd old gentleman of eighty-four, credited, of 
 course, with prophetic inspiration, and looked up to 
 with reverence and affection by the twelve Apostles 
 and the whole Mormon community. I spent the 
 morning in converse with the Prophet and the 
 Twelve, as previously recorded. In the course of con- 
 versation the Prophet quoted Brigham Young as 
 saying, ' Religious profession should be quite free ; 
 act up to whatever you believe, and let others do 
 likewise ; be friendly to all sincere religionists, even 
 when most opposed to you, so long as they do not 
 interfere with you ; preach the brotherhood of the 
 human race ; love all and labour for the good of all 
 and mind your own business.' ' And,' .said the 
 Prophet, * I reckon that is so, and we act on that. 
 
 ■ I 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 301 
 
 Any body of people who want to worship God, and 
 come here and have no church, are welcome to use 
 ours. Four hundred clergy on their way to a con- 
 ference passed through our city ; we offered them a 
 building to worship in, but they said, " No, we want to 
 sec how jyou worship." " Come and see," we replied ; 
 " all are free to enter, to look around and ask questions. 
 We are honest men ; we are not ashamed of our 
 religion. We are law-abiding citizens of the United 
 States of America." ' 
 
 On leaving the council room Bishop Clawson 
 proposed driving me round the city. To look down 
 upon it from a neighbouring hill is indeed a sight 
 never to be forgotten ; the magnificent marble temple 
 with its four towers, and its loftily raised golden 
 angel sounding a trumpet, its vast tabernacle and 
 assembly rooms adjoining, and its symmetrical rect- 
 angular blocks of houses surrounded by flower 
 gardens, clean straight streets with their rows of 
 trees on either side, present a spectacle of order and 
 prosperity which I never saw in any other city of the 
 world I visited the schools, the University, the 
 Prophet's residence, the suburbs — everywhere the 
 same comfort, cleanliness and order, no poverty ; no 
 drunkenness, no dirt. 
 
 The air was clear and bracing. A railway ran to 
 the Salt Lake, twelve miles off. The Bishop pro- 
 posed a visit there in the afternoon ; some of his 
 daughters were to accompany us — I was nothing loth. 
 
 Bishop Clawson has over thirty living daughters, 
 twenty of whom are married. Mrs. Goesbeck, a 
 charming young married daughter, the on(y wife of 
 a banker, said to me as I sat by her in the car, with a 
 sort of artless pride, ' Pa thinks so much of his girls ! ' 
 
 r. 
 
 
 
302 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 i 
 
 . t! 
 
 I 
 
 ' Mind you keep him up to it,' I said. 
 
 * No fear/ she replied. 
 
 ' Now/ I went on, ' I dare say he was quite sorry 
 to lose you when you married ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, he has not lost me ; and then, you see, if he 
 does miss one there are a good many of us to fall 
 back upon, and my husband's a banker in the town, 
 and we often meet, all of us/ 
 
 Mrs. Goesbeck seemed to have absolutely no 
 consciousness that there had been anything irregu- 
 lar in her 'bringings up' or in her father's domestic 
 arrangements, and she had the appearance and manner 
 of a girl who had led a happy simple life, without any 
 terrible secrets or gloomy experiences. Is it surpris- 
 ing that I should take a coideur de rose view of Salt 
 Lake City .'' I know it has been said that whenever 
 a stranger arrives he is taker* in hand, and that every- 
 thing is carefully cooked for him in order to produce 
 a favourable impression, but you cannot at a moment's 
 notice cook a whole city of people ; what I saw and 
 what everyone may see spoke for itself. 
 
 I saw a happy and contented people, a clean and 
 sanitary city, a colossal white marble temple which had 
 taken forty years a-building (a tabernacle into which 
 throngs every Sunday a congregation of from 12,000 
 to 16,000 people, or about four times the size of the 
 late Mr. Spurgeon's congregation), neat houses and 
 prosperous farms, well-behaved children, venerable 
 elders, agreeable and cultivalr^d ladies. I lectured to 
 several thousand Mormons in their great Assembly 
 Rooms. I found ' Music and Morals ' a household 
 book, and the Mormon rising generation great pro- 
 ficients in the divine art. After my lecture I was 
 invited across to the Giant Tabernacle, and there a 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 303 
 
 choir of 500 young Mormons, of both sexes, who had 
 just Hstened to my lecture, anxious to give me a taste 
 of their quality, stood up in the vast tabernacle and 
 sang the choruses from * The Messiah ' without a 
 note of music before them in a style that would 
 compare favourably with many of our Festival choirs. 
 1 was surprised at nearly all I saw and heard — 
 at the splendour of their bathing establishments at 
 the Salt Lake, at the taste of their architecture, at the 
 perfection of their irrigation, and the ever-increasing 
 enthusiasm with which they are cultivating the liberal 
 arts. Not least was I surprised at the almost entire 
 absence of friction between the Gentile settlers and 
 the Mormon population. A Mormon elder will go 
 into a Gentile shop, and on departing will bless the 
 owner of the store as though he were a co-religionist 
 as well as a man and a brother. The improved 
 relations between the U.S.A. officials and the Saints 
 were evidenced by General McCook's courteous 
 manner when he met me with two Mormon bishops 
 and some Mormon ladies at the Salt Lake. He 
 invited us all into his private car, and chatted in a 
 most friendly manner with Bishop Clawson and the 
 ladies, and so did the members of his family who 
 were travelling with him. We all went back by rail 
 together to Salt Lake City on the best of terms. 
 
 V 
 
 
 I 
 
 s? 
 
 I have purposely refrained from dwelling on those 
 darker pictures of Mormonism culled generally from 
 the books of apostates and their Gentile foes. 
 
 I do not deny the alleged miseries of poly- 
 gamous marriage, but even monogamous marriage is 
 not always a success. In Mormon families there may 
 have been much cruelty, neglect, despotism, and fickle- 
 
 V-' * 
 
304 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 M 
 
 II 
 
 ness. In rough times, when smarting themselves from 
 outrage and murder, outrage and murder in retaHation 
 may very probably have been committed by them. 
 Rowdyism and mobocracy are not confined to New 
 York, Paris, or London, and the Saints may have, 
 under provocative injustice, shared these tendencies 
 with their more orthodox brethren. I do not believe, 
 however, that anything like organised assassination 
 ever disgraced the government of Brigham Young, 
 although it may have been occasionally resorted to. 
 However, I am bound to say that I have had brought 
 before me some very damaging evidence bearing upon 
 this vexed question. But, further, if Mormons were 
 mixed up with Indians in the everlastingly quoted 
 Mountain Massacre, we have no more right to call Salt 
 Lake City a city of assassins than we have to call Eng- 
 land a nation of regicides because from time to time 
 somebody shoots at the Queen. There are some ugly 
 tales in Mrs. Stenhouse's book, ' An Englishwoman 
 in Utah,' and Mr. Jarman's denunciations are some- 
 what appalling ; but he deserted, and she went there 
 prejudiced, lived there prejudiced, and came away 
 prejudiced. I should like some one to hunt up all 
 the alleged Mormon horrors committed in any one 
 year, and then lay them side by side with a file of 
 the * Police News ' for a year, and see which comes 
 out the best. Christian or Latter-Day Saint. 
 
 Still, I have no doubt a black picture of Mormon- 
 ism might be painted with a little selection by what 
 is called a graphic pen. My business has been — 
 since (with a few illustrious exceptions) nothing but 
 black Mormon pictures have been painted — to remind 
 my readers of a much neglected motto, Audi alteram 
 partem. 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 305 
 
 LXXIX 
 
 Estimate of Mormon ism. — As no account 
 of the Prophet Smith could have been profitably 
 attempted without some estimate of his character and 
 some explanation of his career, so no account of 
 Mormonism is justifiable nowadays without some 
 attempt to define the source of its astonishing power 
 and vitality. 
 
 Needless to say that such a discussion would run 
 into space I cannot here devote to it ; but it is neces- 
 sary to suggest at least the heads under which the 
 inquiry might be conducted. 
 
 First, we may be quite sure that any good that 
 there is in the movement comes from what is true 
 and not from what is false in Mormonism. It may 
 be a delicate but not impossible task to suggest the 
 true without endorsing the false. 
 
 The first truth that Mormonism proclaims is tJiat 
 God reveals Himself noiv as much as ever through 
 (i) 7iature ; through (2) outward and sacravietital 
 ordinances ; through the still small voice of spiritual 
 intuition. We accept the reaffirmation of these truths ; 
 we believe they were never more needed than now : 
 we are not therefore bound to declare all Mormon 
 visions important, all Mormon ceremonies good, or all 
 Mormon intuitions trustworthy or inspired. 
 
 The second truth is that God sends His prophet 
 
 preachers now as He has ever sent them — indeed, a 
 
 prophetical ministry \s the life and soul of the Christian 
 
 Church. It does not follow, and we are not obliged 
 
 to admit, that Joseph Smith, and Brigham Young, and 
 
 Woodruff are prophets. 
 
 VOL. I X 
 
 
3o6 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 If , 
 
 r. 
 
 The third truth is that God has enshrined Divine 
 and authoritative truth in sacred books ; but we arc at 
 liberty to draw the line if we please at the * Book of 
 Mormon.' 
 
 The fourth truth is that God Himself has found a 
 means of atoning for the original and actual sins of 
 the world in the person and work of Jesus Christ. 
 We may yet be at variance as to the exact sense in 
 which the * blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all 
 sin,' and we may even reject the substitution theory, 
 which seems to have been adopted in its crudest form 
 by the Mormon theologians. 
 
 The fifth truth is that all the dead shall have a 
 chance. And here again we may accept some form 
 of the * uncovenanted mercies of God,' without 
 adopting either the purgatory of the Mormon or the 
 Papist. 
 
 The sixth truth is the living communion of saints, 
 with which I may couple baptism for the dead. I 
 have no doubt that under cover of this doctrine 
 an elaborate system of spiritualism is practised — • 
 something akin to Mr. Stead's proposed bureau of 
 inquiry, where people may converse through well- 
 accredited mediums with their departed friends. The 
 Mormon temple, to which thousands of anxious in- 
 quirers annually resort from all parts of Utah — some 
 to be nitiated into sacramental rites, others to be 
 baptised for the dead, others to inquire into their 
 present condition, to help or be bettered by them — 
 is, I infer, amongst other things, the scene of a vast 
 system of organised seances conducted by rule and 
 authority. Well, we may be of opinion that there is 
 a real intuitive communion of saints, that the de- 
 parted do influence us, that under some conditions 
 
Mormon Land 
 
 307 
 
 they may even appear or be otherwise communicated 
 with, but for all that we may not be prepared to accept 
 the Mormon temple as a Holy of Holies and the 
 Mormon mediums as the only inspired and in- 
 fallible guides. Still it cannot be denied that the 
 Mormons have had the wit or the grace to appropriate 
 that mystic and mediumistic element which lies at 
 the root of all religious intuitions and observances, 
 and the disappearance or discouragement of which 
 throughout the orthodox Protestant Churches since 
 the Reformation gives every Roman Catholic, Salva- 
 tionist, Swedenborgian, Christian Scientist, or Faith 
 Healer such a sustained and inevitable pull over the 
 Established Church and her clergy. 
 
 \ 
 
 Now take their faith in a living and constantly 
 self-revealing God, in a prophetical ministry, in a 
 sacred book, in an atoning love, in a communion 01 
 saints, in spiritual manifestations, and add thereto a 
 stern respect for the moral law (as defined on the 
 lines of the Old rather than the New Testament), 
 admirable thrift and organised industry, obedience 
 to authority, immense energy spent upon the un- 
 exhausted and apparently inexhaustible resources of 
 a new world, and last, but not least, a succession of 
 men endowed with singular courage, genius, and 
 devotion, like Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, Taylor, 
 Woodruff, Q. Cannon and Clawson, and enough has 
 been advanced to explain the vitality of the Mormon 
 faith and the prosperity of the Mormon people. 
 
 The City of the Saints is now thrown open to the 
 outside Christian world, styled * Gentiles ' by the Salt 
 Lake Saints. Let us hope that they may meet, not 
 
 X 2 
 
 L 
 
3o8 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ti 
 
 t 
 
 if- 
 
 \^l 
 
 \> 
 
 to borrow each other's vices, but to imitate each other's 
 virtues. 
 
 I am told there are five poh'cemen engaged in 
 keeping order at Salt Lake City, but that their ser- 
 vices at present are almost entirely monopolised by 
 the * Gentile ' or Christian population, to whom 
 belong the gambling hells, the gin shops, and the 
 houses of ill fame. This may be an exaggeration, but 
 it points in the direction of a sad truth. 
 
 The orthodox Christians seem at present to com- 
 pare unfavourably with those whom they despise as 
 befooled and degraded Mormons. But if, with false 
 doctrine and an erroneous social system, the Mormons 
 have accomplished so much, how much more ought 
 we orthodox Christians to do in the way of good 
 living and good works, with a correcter belief, a higher 
 culture, and a purer conception of family life ! The 
 mote may be in the Mormon's eye, but we shall not 
 see clearly how to pull it out whilst there is a beam 
 in our own. Ah, holy ideal ! — the eye single, and the 
 whole body full of light ! 
 
 Postscript. — Whilst these pages are passing 
 through the press a paragraph is going the round of 
 the papers that President Cleveland has sanctioned a 
 Bill raising Utah from a Territory to a State, and 
 recognising existing polygamic ties, whilst forbidding 
 them for the future. 
 
 II, 
 
309 
 
 PULPIT AND PLATFORM OUTRE MER 
 
 LXXX 
 
 San Francisco, 1893. — I wish to avoid the 
 beaten tracks of lecturers in America. 
 
 We are tolerably familiar with the progress ot 
 secular star lecturers like Dickens and Thackeray in 
 the United States. Of late years the barrier between 
 pulpit and platform speakers has been thrown down, 
 and Canon Kingsley has been followed by Canon 
 (now Dean) Farrar, Dean Hole, and several Noncon- 
 formist lights, who have not disdained to deliver, for 
 a pecuniary consideration, what message they could, 
 to large transatlantic audiences. 
 
 I think I have gone much farther afield than any 
 of them. I leave on one side my Lowell Lectures 
 at Boston, Harvard and Cornell University sermons 
 and general lectures in Canada and the Eastern 
 United States of America in 1885, my speeches and 
 sermons at Chicago as an Anglican delegate in 
 the World's Parliament of Religions in 1893, ^^^ 
 I propose to deal solely with some more excep- 
 tional experiences in less over-lectured places under 
 conditions which may render my remarks useful, and 
 I hope of some interest to those pulpit and platform 
 pioneers who will ere long follow in my path. 
 
 In 1893, after addressing the Parliament of 
 
 , 
 
 <.H 
 
310 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 
 I 
 
 \) 
 
 ill 
 
 
 Religions in Chicago, I had, as recorded, paid a flying 
 visit to San Francisco for the first time. I had been 
 told that whilst High Church was tolerated and Low 
 Church respected, anything like Broad Church was 
 out of the question in San Francisco. 
 
 Some people, it seems, had identified me with the 
 last-named incendiary and traitorous ecclesiastical 
 faction. From the first I made it clear that I 
 sympathised too deeply with all three parties to cast 
 in my lot exclusively with any one ; my family tradi- 
 tions being E\ "'^v^elicnl, my education Puscyite, niid 
 my maturer tendencies Maurician. So-called religious 
 liberalism to me meant nothing but an active sympathy 
 with all seekers after God and well-doers in Christ, a 
 love of truth, and a moderate attention to history ; and 
 I could not see that any party in the Church had, or 
 ought to have, a monopoly of such desirable attri- 
 butes. 
 
 In a word, I ignored Church parties. 
 
 Perhaps it was this unusual attitude, perhaps it 
 was the * one touch of nature,' or the magnetism of 
 common sense —anyhow, the Californian bishops and 
 clergy at once came forward on my arrival, and nearly 
 every F.piscopal pulpit in Francisco seemed open to 
 mc, whilst at a sort of clerical banquet I received 
 S(imething like an official welcome from the Bishop 
 of California and the clergy of San Francisco. 
 
 I shall never forget those nine happy days in 1 893 
 at the City of the Golden Gate, for it was due to my 
 cordial reception there that I accepted an offer on the 
 part of the Trinity Church Committee, made with 
 the Bishop's approval, to deliver a course of eight 
 sermons at San Francisco in January and February of 
 the year 1895. 
 
 f 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 311 
 
 It 
 1^ 
 
 LXXXI 
 
 At Trinity Church, San Francisco. — When 
 I left London in December 1894, with a view of 
 escaping the winter, which proved unusually severe, 
 I pushed on through New York to New Orleans with 
 the Bishop of Honduras, arriving there after a run of 
 two days and nights. It being Sunday morning, 
 I preached ; addressed the New Orleans clergy on 
 Monday, and left on Tuesday, passing through 
 Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, Southern California, 
 and reaching Francisco just in time for Christmas 1894. 
 
 People, it seems, don't go to church much on 
 Sunday evening at San Francisco ; that explains my 
 being appointed evening preacher. Trinity Church, 
 belonging to the oldest parish (jn the Pacific coast, 
 has just been rebuilt, and is now the largest and most 
 ambitious of the Californian churches. It is indeed a 
 noble grey granite edifice, fashioned on the model of 
 St. Albans Abbey with a huge central square tower, 
 but an aisle somewhat too short in proportion. 
 
 On my first Sunday night at San Francisco, 
 Trinity Church was crowded to suffocation ; on the 
 second, a partition separating the side aisle from a 
 large adjoining hall was removed ; this hall was, like 
 the church, filled before service began. 
 
 The following list of subjects was freely distributed 
 by the Trinity Church Committee on my arrival at 
 Francisco : 
 
 Dec. 23.— God! Who is He? What is He? 
 Where is He } How is He } 
 
 Dec. 30. — Bible. How inspired ? When written ? 
 Who wrote it ? Of what use now ? 
 
 Jan. 6.— Right and Wrong. How to decide ? 
 
 •■ \ 
 
 I' 
 
 -I 
 
 I y 
 
 I ' 
 
 i 
 \ \ 
 
 \ 
 
ir 
 
 i' 
 
 ii 
 
 312 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Where are the sanctions ? What are the conse- 
 quences ? Why should we know ? 
 
 Jan. 13. — Pravp:k. What? How? When? 
 Why ? Where ? 
 
 Of course there were various opinions about the 
 sermons. One lady, who seemed to be a pillar, heard 
 the first, and came no more. When asked her reason, 
 the good creature exclaimed, ' Why, it's downrigh ' 
 destruction, because if people go to hear these sort ^ 
 sermons they will never come to church to hear the 
 usual ones ; and what's to become of the clergy ? ' 
 This was oddly endorsed by a remark from another 
 regular seatholder, who attended twice, and then con- 
 cluded to go no more ; ' because,' said he, ' if I hear 
 any more 1 sha'n't be able to go back to the church 
 and listen to the old sort.' One man, who was a judge 
 of the Supreme Court, seemed quite put out. The 
 sermon had lasted for an hour and a quarter, and he 
 said in an aggrieved wa)', ' I thought it was onb 
 about a quarter of an hour. No one ever caug 
 me listening to a sermon for an hour before.' He 
 became nevertheless one of my regular hearers. But 
 perhaps the most singular comment burst from a 
 somewhat unlikely quarter — a ritualistic clergyman 
 declared that my teaching had * ruined " Church 
 influence'' in Sa7i Francisco for tzventy years to come' 
 By Church influence he meant sacerdotalism, to which 
 the Franciscans do not seem to take very kindly. 
 
 At these evening services, conducted with a full 
 and exceptionally good surpliced choir and organist, 
 every section of the Californian community might be 
 seen, from the bishops, clergy, statesmen, and judges, 
 to the Jews, Turks, infidels and heretics, including 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 3T3 
 
 even some of the lowly pig-tailed denizens of conser- 
 vative China Town. The papers gave very able and 
 ample reports, and I never found — no, not even in the 
 World's Parliament of Religions more eager and 
 sustained interest in what aimed at being a reverent 
 but candid exposition of modern doubts, difficulties, 
 and beliefs. The only thing these practical striving 
 Californians arc intolerant of is pure destnictiveness 
 in religion ; they simply cannot afford it — it wastes 
 their time. They hate Jiegatives : if the old is to go — 
 and the old has gone for the Californian masses — 
 you must substitute ?>or[\c\.\\\x\^ positive — you must be 
 at every step constructive. People are never won by 
 what you deny, only by what you affirm. After all, 
 a good stout affirmer like Luther or Athanasius can 
 almost afford to let denial and denunciation alone. 
 
 I'M 
 1) 
 
 l,i 
 
 Contrasting the extraordinary amount of good 
 advice I received at Boston, U.S.A., in 1885, not only 
 before I opened my mouih at the Huntington Hall, 
 but after I had lectured there, and preached for 
 Phillips Brooks and before 'he University, I noticed 
 with some surprise the complete absence of all hints 
 and suggestions of what I otigkt to say or how I 
 ought to say it on the part of the Trinity Church 
 Committee. One night I did expect a little encourage- 
 ment for getting the sermon down to an hour and five 
 minutes, but I received none. The collections pro- 
 bably had something to do with this state of placid 
 contentment, for out of the surplus funds accumulated 
 in a few weeks the committee were not only able to pay 
 the whole of my expenses at Francisco, but found 
 themselves in a position to offer me a handsome 
 honorarium, which formed no part of our agreement. 
 
 .f 
 
I '1 
 
 .1 
 
 3H 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 My Sunday mornings were free, but at first the 
 committee were averse to my preaching elsewhere 
 during my course at Trinity ; the experiment, how- 
 ever, being tried, it was found that, after addressing a 
 crowded assembly at St. John's in the morning, the 
 crush at Trinity in the evening was un ibated, and 
 no further objections were raised. 
 
 LXXXII 
 
 At Stanford and Leland University. — 
 At President Jordan's request I visited Stanford 
 and Leland University. It stands mostly one storey 
 high, its low cloisters and quadrangle straggling over 
 a vast area interspersed with collegiate residences, 
 gardens, and green trees. The architecture is quaintly 
 suggestive of the Moorish style which characterised 
 the early Jesuit settlements on the Pacific coast, of 
 which Santa Clara near San Jose, with its suave and 
 polished monks and its vine-wreathed cloisters, is 
 one of the loveliest relics. The students, as at 
 Cornell, are male and female, singularly free, self- 
 reliant and independent. They live all about at 
 their own sweet will. 
 
 A young P'rancisco girl who was pursuing her 
 studies at the Stanford and Leland University 
 invited me to lunch with her. I found her living 
 quite alone in a trim little cottage within ten minutes' 
 walk of her class rooms, with only an old Irish 
 woman to do the housework and catering. She was 
 a very earnest student, and only came up to San 
 Francisco from Saturday to Monday, about two 
 hours' journey by rail. She was staying with her 
 

 Pulpit and Platform 
 
 31S 
 
 mother and sister at my hotel, where I first met her. 
 This seat of Western learning is an idyllic spot. 
 
 Far as the eye can reach, the hills, the woods, the 
 bush, thousands of Californian acres, all belong to 
 Stanford University. It is but a mushroom institu- 
 tion as to time ; Mr. Stanford's widow, who has been 
 left with absolute power over it, being still alive. 
 It is enormously endowed, and when all the contem- 
 plated quads are developed will be the most remark- 
 able centre of light and erudition on the Pacific 
 coast. 
 
 The morning I preached there the goodly sized 
 chapel was packed long before eleven o'clock. I 
 could see from my platform crowds of students of 
 both sexes standing at the open doors, and the young 
 men climbed up outside and looked in at the open 
 windows. I have those hundreds of fresh young 
 eager faces before me still. I had been told that 
 infidelity and materialism were here rampant, and 
 that many of the teachers were openly agnostic or 
 sceptical. Very likely. I felt strangely overcome : my 
 heart went out to them ; they seemed to be as sheep 
 without a shepherd, with their feet stumbling on the 
 dark mountains. California may be sensual, material- 
 istic, sceptical, superficial ; but Californians arc full of 
 heart, and the young people, with small respect for 
 precedent and convention, are wonderfully recep- 
 tive and eager. They do not always sec through 
 pretence and assumption, and can be lured anon by 
 false and unstable guides, but they fall ravenously on 
 what they want, and there is a vein of passionate 
 sentiment about them which contrasts oddly enough 
 with their inatter-of-fact directness and utilitarian 
 modes of thought and action. The Americans arc 
 
 V. 
 
 ' f 
 
I' 
 
 , I 
 
 M 
 
 316 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 smart, go-ahead, and perhaps not over scrupulous, but 
 they are all Idealists and Sensitives at the bottom, and 
 Emerson is still their prophet. When Dean Stanley 
 was asked which of the American preachers had 
 most impressed him, he replied, * I heard a good 
 many whose names I don't remember ; but it mattered 
 little who preached — the sermon was always by 
 Emerson.* 
 
 Emerson still divides with Oliver Wendell Holmes 
 the cultivated taste of the United States. The one 
 was a prophetic dreamer, the other the most genial, 
 yet wise and sober, of sentimental humourists. 
 
 Another Sunday morning I ran down to San Jose. 
 The Rev. Dr. Wakefield, the rector, is one of the most 
 intelligent and enlightened clerics on the Pacific 
 coast. He has, through a long pastorate, won the 
 singular respect and affection of his people, and his 
 genial and liberal influence extends far beyond the 
 precincts of his own town and is felt in Francisco. I 
 might almost call him a Franciscan cleric, did he not 
 rather belong, like a sort of leaven in the lump, to the 
 whole of California. The morning I preached at 
 San Jose admission was by ticket ; the church was 
 soon packed, and I should think enough for another 
 congregation remained outside. 
 
 LXXXHI 
 
 The Bishop Criticised. — As my last Sunday 
 drew near, it was suggested to me that I should take 
 the largest available hall in San Francisco for a 
 morning sermon. The Metropolitan Temple, capable 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 317 
 
 of holding between two and three thousand people, 
 was accordingly engaged with the approval of the 
 Bishop of California, whose licence I held. On this 
 occasion I spoke for two hours on the subject of 
 marriage. The newspapers declared * that two 
 thousand people were shut out, and a squad of police 
 were kept busily engaged,' &c. 
 
 This masterly specimen of American ' gassing ' 
 originated, as I happen to know, in the following 
 simple way. After preaching as usual in the evening 
 at Trinity, I was coming back in the cable car with 
 my friend Major Hooper, one of the Trinity Church 
 wardens, when a reporter boarded us and inquired 
 of the Major how things had gone at the Metropolitan 
 Temple in the morning. * Oh,' says the Major, * crowds 
 turned away, and police outside,' which blossomed 
 out next day into &c. &c. 
 
 I received numerous invitations to preach at Non- 
 conformist chapels, which I was perfectly willing to 
 do provided that the Californian Bishop, whose licence 
 I held, did not object. Needless to say, the Bishop 
 did object ; and with that deference to Episcopal 
 authority which I hope will always honourably dis- 
 tinguish the so-called Broad from the High Church 
 party, I always withdrew. Some regrettable corre- 
 spondence followed, from which I held aloof The 
 Bishop was attacked for not giving his consent — I 
 was attacked for not preaching ; I was also attacked 
 for b'^ing willing to preach, which only shows how 
 difficult it is to please everybody. 
 
 The Francisco Press, with the most business-like 
 instincts, left no stone unturned to get the Bishoj) 
 and me to fight, but in vain — we neither of us had 
 time or inclination 'to oblige.' A portrait of the 
 
 ^ , 
 
3i8 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 Hishop having come out with an inflammatory para- 
 graph in which I was represented to be in violent 
 opposition to my pro tern. Diocesan, I wrote to the 
 Bishop to ask whether I ought to take any notice of 
 it. His answer was wise, and characteristic of his 
 most kind and temperate disposition : 
 
 ' February 4, 1895 : 2521 Broadway, San Francisco. 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Hawels,— Major Hooper handed 
 me your note to-day, and in acknowledging it let me 
 assure you that I have felt that whatever has appeared 
 in print — and I have heard of much that I have not 
 seen — was an exhibit of our newspaper enterprise. 
 So far from associating you with it, I have taken pains 
 to say that all that has come to me from you has 
 been most courteous and law-observing. I quite agree 
 with you that it is not worth while for you to take it 
 up publicly. 
 
 ' Mrs. Nichols and I have been hoping to have the 
 pleasure of your company at our home to meet some 
 of the clergy, and are much disappointed that constant 
 illness in the family — one of my children being sick 
 now, though not serious — has prevented it. 
 ' I am, my dear Mr. Haweis, 
 ' Yours very sincerely, 
 
 ' William F. Nichols. 
 
 'The Rev. H. R. Ilaweis, M.A., 
 ' Occidental Motel.' 
 
 Here is another of Bishop Nichols' letters, which 
 will show that, notwithstanding the somewhat em- 
 bittered controversy which followed my refusal to 
 preach without the Bishop's approval in Nonconformist 
 pulpits, our friendly relations remained unbroken : 
 
ruLPiT AND Platform 
 
 319 
 
 •January 29, 1895 : 2521 Broadway, San Francisco. 
 
 • My dear Mr. Haweis, — An appointment for a 
 wedding" to-morrow (Wednesday) evening, antedating 
 the selection of the date for the lecture which you 
 have so kindly undertaken to contribute to the Good 
 Samaritan Mission, will deprive me of the pleasure of 
 being present. I beg to express my sincere regret 
 that I must miss the enjoyment of the lecture, and to 
 thank you for so cordially complying with the request 
 of Major Hooper on behalf of the executive committee 
 of the Good Samaritan Mission. 
 
 ' I may add my regret that my frequent goin^'^s and 
 comings do not give me more opportunity to see you. 
 
 ' Yours very truly, 
 
 • William F. Nichols. 
 
 'The Rev. H. R. Haweis, M.A., 
 ♦Occidental Hotel.' 
 
 Here is a characteristic specimen of one of the 
 attempts to draw me and the Bishop — to which he 
 alludes as an exhibit of press ejiterprise : 
 
 'THE BISHOP SAYS NO 
 
 *He Draws a Line for His Clergy 
 ' NO exchange of pulpits with dissenters 
 
 »,•• 
 
 ' Dr. Haiveis not alloivcd to Preach in Plymouth 
 Co7igrcgational Church 
 
 • The church-going people of this city may go to 
 hear Rev. H. R. Haweis as often as they like, but if 
 they are not members of the Episcopal Church they 
 cannot hear him in their own sanctuaries on Sunday. 
 That is definitely decided. 
 
 1 
 
I i 
 
 i\ 
 
 320 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 ' Rev. E. S. Williams of Plymouth Congregational 
 Church expected to have a treat for his flock last 
 Sunday. Dr. Williams is an Englishman, and 
 although he is what churchmen call a nonconformist, 
 he made bold to ask Dr. Haweis to preach in his 
 pulpit. This invitation Dr. Haweis graciously ac- 
 cepted, provided the bishop of the diocese had no 
 objection. 
 
 * Now, the incumbent of St. James's is as politic 
 as he is genial and clever. He has been feted and 
 lionised here to a great extent, and he preaches 
 while here under a special licence from Bishop 
 Nichols. Consequently he would not offend the 
 Bishop for the world. 
 
 * In fact Dr. Haweis did not care to ask the 
 Bishop for his permission to preach in Plymouth 
 Church, and so Dr. Williams undertook to procure 
 the Bishop's consent. 
 
 * He did not succeed. The Bishop was charmingly 
 courteous to the nonconforming gentleman. But he 
 indicated quite clearly his disapproval of any such 
 scheme. He said he was sorry, but he did not think 
 that it would aid that fellowship and unity which is 
 so much desired. That settled the question so far as 
 Dr. Haweis was concerned. He declared at once 
 that under no circumstances could he do anything of 
 which the Bishop disapproved, though as far as he 
 was concerned he was willing to preach the gospel 
 anywhere — in Catholic Church, nonconformist chapel, 
 on a sandlot or a Salvationist's tent. He says that 
 he is willing to preach anywhere, for anybody that 
 wants him, but with the Bishop's approval. 
 
 * Bishop Nichols stated yesterday that his reason 
 for not wishing Dr. Haweis to preach on Sunday in a 
 
ational 
 ck last 
 n, and 
 formist, 
 in his 
 isly ac- 
 had no 
 
 politic 
 :ed and 
 reaches 
 
 Bishop 
 ;nd the 
 
 isk the 
 ymouth 
 procure 
 
 rmingly 
 But he 
 
 ny such 
 
 t think 
 
 lich is 
 
 o far as 
 
 at once 
 hing of 
 as he 
 gospel 
 chapel, 
 ys that 
 dy that 
 
 reason 
 ay in a 
 
 Pulpit and Platform 
 
 321 
 
 Congregationalist Church was because he could not 
 give his approval to any of his local clergy accepting 
 a hospitality that they could not return. He believes 
 in fraternal interdenominational courtesy and all that 
 sort of thing, but when it comes to an Anglican 
 rector in a Congregationalist pulpit on Sunday that 
 is quite another thing. 
 
 ' The Congregationalist brethren are inclined to be 
 a little hurt over the matter. They thought the 
 Parliament of Religions had settled all that. Mean- 
 while the Bishop holds the key to the situation in 
 his hands, and cannot give his consent to so irregular 
 a proceeding in his diocese.' 
 
 Bishop Nichols is a very good high class type of 
 the American prelate. He walks in the steps of Dr. 
 Potter. He does not meddle too much ; he is willing 
 to hear grievances and to bear them in mind when 
 he cannot right them at once, which is more than 
 can be said for many English bishops, who seldom 
 right grievances and often forget them. He answers 
 letters. Bishop Nichols holds strong opinions, but he 
 does not often obtrude them. His clergy have a kind 
 of instinct — what he approves or disapproves of. He 
 is averse to publicity, and never forces a controversy. 
 He governs by biding his time and seizing his oppor- 
 tunity ; he is always on the watch, and instead of 
 speaking before he acts, he acts before he speaks. 
 This course saves him and a great many others 
 trouble, but it often leaves a sting behind. His man- 
 ner is extremely genial and courteous ; but a few 
 words I once had with him about the nature of the 
 episcopal office showed me that, whilst tolerating the 
 expression of views and opinions different from his 
 VOL. I Y 
 
 1 1 
 
 ,r 
 
 1 
 
m 
 
 322 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 own, he was not prepared to make the least concession 
 of any kind to an opponent. Personally I owe a debt 
 of gratitude to Bishop Nichols for smoothing my way 
 with the clergy. I am sure that the general tone of 
 friendly acceptance which I received at the hands of 
 numbers of my clerical brethren at San Francisco 
 who could not have agreed with some of my views 
 was largely owing to the courteous initiative and 
 Christian tolerance of the Bishop of California. On 
 my first visit to San Francisco the Bishop introduced 
 me in an after-dinner speech to the diocesan clergy in 
 the kindest and most flattering manner ; and I am 
 sure my recall in 1895 was largely due to his well- 
 known friendly attitude towards me. He invited me 
 to address the diocesan clergy before I left San 
 Francisco, and took the chair. The ^"jUowing extract 
 from a Francisco paper records the event : 
 
 * HAWEIS ON REVIVALS 
 'Their Relation to the Church 
 
 ' There was a very large attendance of Episcopal 
 rectors from this and neighbouring cities at the clericus 
 yesterday morning. Both the assembly rooms of the 
 diocesan house were called into requisition to accom- 
 modate the Churchmen. The occasion was the 
 announced address of Rev. H. R. Haweis on revival- 
 ism — a subject not commonly discussed at great 
 length in the Anglican Churches. Certainly Dr. 
 Haweis has not appeared to greater advantage than 
 he did before his own brethren yesterday morning, 
 nor has he spoken with greater force or eloquence 
 since he has been in this city. Perhaps he addressed 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 323 
 
 the clcricus with a little more freedom than he has 
 the other ministerial unions. He gave them very 
 clearly his own vivid ideas on revivalism, and did not 
 go around prejudices, but struck directly at them. 
 
 ' " Revivalism," he said," means a very great force 
 which is important to us clergy. The way to handle 
 it is not to denounce it. Instead, we should understand 
 its nature and then try to control it. 
 
 *" Revivals always mean the revival of some neg- 
 lected truth, or a new way of presenting an old one. 
 Whenever it appears it is a sign of activity and of truth 
 in a passionate form. Its forms are as varied as the 
 chameleon. Sometimes they are extremely repulsive, 
 especially to us. At other times they lend themselves 
 to ecclesiastical rule and order. But it must be con- 
 fessed that the usual tendency of revivalism is to 
 kick over the traces. That is the great difficulty with 
 which the Episcopal Church has to contend." ' 
 
 I then gave an account of the scene at New 
 Orleans, described at length in vol. ii., when I listened 
 to a negro Revivalist preacher. I endeavoured to 
 correlate the various revival manifestations of the 
 Irvingites, Wesleyans, and Salvationists with the 
 scenes in the Church of Corinth, described by St. 
 Paul. I must say my crowded clerical audience heard 
 me with the greatest patience and courtesy. 
 
 Soon afterwards I was honoured by the Presby- 
 terian clergy with an invitation to address them, and 
 the papers reported me very well. Here, too, my 
 clerical brethren received me with the utmost cor- 
 diality, and listened to me with exemplary attention. 
 
 Y a 
 
■F 
 
 324 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 .1 i 
 
 r 
 
 'MR. HAWEIS ON SECTS 
 ♦Thk Noted Divine Talks to ruESBYTERLVNS 
 
 * The Presbyterian Ministerial Union had one of 
 the most attractive programmes in its history yester- 
 day morning. After the adoption of resokitions of 
 sympathy with Rev. Dr. Ellis, chairman of the pro- 
 gramme committee, whose son died on Saturday, the 
 Rev. H. R. Haweis of London addressed the meeting. 
 
 ' There was an unusually large audience to listen 
 to the Church of England's representative, and the 
 extemporaneous talk which he made was not one of 
 the least notable among the many remarkable dis- 
 courses that he has given in this city. The Rector of 
 St. James's is a man of charming and fascinating 
 personality, and he prefaced his talk, which was on 
 sectarianism, with some characteristic and happy 
 remarks. There were several anecdotes of clerical 
 meetings in this country at which he had been present, 
 and the speaker alluded particularly to the diversity 
 in unity which prevails here, and whfch makes discus- 
 sion frequent and interesting and raises it above 
 monotony. 
 
 * Then he proceeded to the rationale of sectarian- 
 ism as it appears to an Episcopalian clergyman. 
 Sectarianism is often denounced as an unmitigated 
 evil. This is a half truth, he said. Most sects are 
 the embodiment of some truth which has been lost. 
 To appreciate this reassertion of some neglected or 
 forgotten truth one must understand how the sect 
 arose. At first the result of this rediscovery is to 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 3^S 
 
 :rl\ns 
 
 one of 
 yester- 
 ions of 
 he pro- 
 lay, the 
 leeting. 
 o listen 
 ind the 
 : one of 
 Die dis- 
 ector of 
 :inating 
 was on 
 
 happy 
 clerical 
 Dresent, 
 iversity 
 
 discus- 
 above 
 
 tarian- 
 ^yman. 
 tigated 
 icts are 
 en lost, 
 cted or 
 le sect 
 y is to 
 
 throw that particular branch out of order with the 
 rest. Anyone who points out a neglected truth is 
 certain to be persecuted, but that does not interfere 
 with the value of sectarian movements, though the 
 word is a bad one, signifying as it does something 
 cut off. 
 
 'The real strength of the sects should be carefully 
 nurtured within the Church. As an example take the 
 Church of Rome. For all its power, its m}'sticism 
 and its enormous self-confidence, how much more 
 powerful would it have been if, instead of casting out 
 Luther, it had accepted his truths and got rid of the 
 abuses he denounced. There is a tendency to cast 
 out elements which should be carefully retained and 
 room made for them in the Church. It is not necessary 
 that a bishop should take up each individual minister's 
 fad, but they should be allowed to speak out the truth 
 which is in them. They will speak it out on the out- 
 side. It is better to keep them in. 
 
 'This applies to the Evangelical Churches, as well 
 as to the Church of England. They say, "It is 
 heresy. Cast it out." That is very much what the 
 Church of England has done. It is like the old 
 practice of medicine, when they bled for everything, 
 and sometimes the patient died in the end from loss 
 of blood. 
 
 ' At the time the Act of Uniformity was foisted on 
 the clergy, i,6oo clergymen went out. Terms should 
 have been made with them ; compromise would not 
 have been difficult, and by not doing so the conscience 
 of the Established Church was lost. One might suppose 
 that the Church would have derived wisdom from this, 
 but it didn't. Wesley was regarded as a fanatic. lie 
 lived and died in the Church of England, but the 
 
326 
 
 Travhl and Talk 
 
 1^ 
 
 whole Wcslcyan body is now out, and the Established 
 Church thereby lost the best part of the personal 
 religion and piety within itself. Then came the High 
 Church revival. It was to exalt the beauty of holiness, 
 the historical fabric of the Christian Church. This 
 revival stood for orderly usages and observances. 
 The Church hounded them out. Newman went over 
 to the Roman Church. 
 
 ' These observances were cast out, and much beauty, 
 reverence and order were thereby lost. 
 
 ' The last sectarian movement in the Church of 
 England is what is known as the Broad Church move- 
 ment. The members of the movement do not like to 
 have it called a sect. It represents the study of 
 comparative philology. It is the liberal party of the 
 Church, and it advocates the study of Church history, 
 Greek and the historical knowledge of the Holy 
 Land, so that we may exercise the historical imagina- 
 tion. In this way dogmas are dissipated, and the 
 Bible, as a long progressive story of God's relation 
 to man, is understood. Yet the Episcopal Church 
 calls members of the Broad Church party infidels, and 
 wants to cast them out. If this party is expelled, the 
 Church will lose its learning, science and love of truth. 
 
 * Mr. Haweis concluded as follows : 
 
 ' " There may be in the community some new 
 truth. It should be dealt with tenderly, lest an angel 
 is turned out unawares. Beware how by the hand 
 of persecution you expel what may be the ark of the 
 living God. Gather up the fragments, that not^ 
 may be lost. Have great toleration for the vt- 
 capacities of men to see truth. Don't ca; .l i. > 
 that do not think your thoughts. Whac is cahed 
 heresy may be truth in a new disguise. Give it 1 me. 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 327 
 
 Truth is quite capable of taking care of itself in time. 
 By casting it out instantly you imply a doubt as to 
 this ability. Let each man have his say, and the con- 
 science of the community will take care of it. Do not 
 recommend bleeding. There are remedies more safe 
 and less drastic than to try to cure a community by 
 bleeding it to death." 
 
 * The usual discussion was omitted, and instead 
 Mr. riaweis consented to answer some questions. 
 The first question was for definitions of Low Church, 
 High Church and Broad Church, as understood at pre- 
 sent in England. He said that the Low Church is the 
 most sterile survival of the living movement of the 
 last century. The High Church looks to the source of 
 authority in the Roman Catholic Church, though they 
 do not feel it necessary to join that Church. Both 
 elements are recognised in the Book of Common 
 Prayer. The highesJ: of the High Churches have a 
 ritual very like the Roman Catholic Church. A 
 majority of the English Churches are High Church, but 
 more moderate than the extreme examples. The 
 Broad Church is not a party. It includes clergymen 
 of all shades of belief, and represents the element of 
 intellect and culture in the Church. 
 
 ' The next question concerned the Church Army. 
 Mr. Haweis said it was doing good work, and is under 
 the patronage of many clergy and dignitaries, in- 
 cluding the Archbishop of Canterbury, though the 
 speaker does not think it is as effective as the 
 Salvation Army. 
 
 * Then one of the Presbyterian brethren inquired 
 to what branch of the Church the Queen belonged ? 
 " Oh," said Mr. Haweis, ** she's a good religious woman. 
 The question of her religion is like that of Dr, 
 
3^« 
 
 Travki. and Talk 
 
 Johnson's. Some one asked him what rch'^ious beliefs 
 lie held, and he answered that they were the same as 
 any sensible man held. The next query was as to 
 what beliefs sensible men lield, and Dr. Jolinson said 
 that that was what every sensible man kei)t to 
 himself" 
 
 * In the laughter that followed, no one found out to 
 which winjT of the Church the Queen belonged. 
 
 * Then Mr. ITawcis replied to a question as to the 
 attitude of the Episcopal clergy on the temperance 
 question. He said the majority who had to deal with 
 the masses are total abstainers because this accords 
 with their hiirhest usefulness. 
 
 o 
 
 ' As to apostolic succession, Mr. Ilawcis said the 
 Broad Church did not care twopence for it, though 
 they were willing to accept it if it could be satisfactorily 
 proved. 
 
 ' Mr. Ilaweis thinks the attempts at organisation 
 undertaken by the Lambeth Conference were rather 
 abortive. This was in reply to a question regarding 
 the Conference. Throuijhout the talk and the subse- 
 quentcatechismthe Rectorof St. James's wascxtremely 
 witty in all that he said. He gave a good plain dis- 
 course on tolerance, and the most searching truths 
 were told in an altogether charming manner. Mr. 
 Ilaweis is an authority on English Church matters 
 and history, and proved himself an admirable exponent 
 of the Broad Church idea.' 
 
 LXXXIV 
 
 Major Hooper. — I have merely given the above 
 as samples of fair reporting, and of the kind of 
 addresses I was called upon to deliver ad lib. every 
 
Pulpit and ri-ATroim 
 
 1^9 
 
 week. Iiuleetl, before I lefl S;m I'laiicisco, I was 
 asked by the ministers of all tlie i)rincipal relij^ious 
 denominations to address them. 
 
 'fhis I was very willing to do, and tb.c truly 
 warm-hearted and fraternal reception accorded mi: by 
 the assembled representatives of well ni^^h every Chris- 
 tian denomination in the city brought home to tne a 
 saying of Dr. Jowett's, ' that good men of all sects arc 
 much more nearly agreed than they themselves 
 suppose.* Certainly nothing could be more genial 
 than my intercourse with the Episcopalian and Non- 
 conformist clergy in San I'rancisco. 
 
 My good friend Major Hooper, my landlord and 
 general protector, stood between me and the various 
 agencies for wasting my time and strength whilst I 
 was under liis hospitable roof at the Occidental 
 Hotel. lie set aside for me the rooms always 
 occupied by the kite lamented writer Louis Stevenson 
 in passing to and from Samoa. He rescued me 
 from the crowd of people who waited to see me 
 after Sunday evem'ng service. ' Don't let 'em get at 
 you, they'll tear you to pieces,' he used to say ; and 
 he stood sentinel at the vestry door and got me out 
 at ? side door home to supper. He al.so intercepted 
 visitors, reporters, and bores in the hall. He under- 
 took to control my business engagements, so that 
 I should not have to deal with that class of peo[)lc 
 who thought I could run anywhere for a five-pound 
 note, or turn out to speak for the hundred and one 
 philanthropic fads espoused by the hundred and one 
 philanthropic maniacs who in all large cities prey 
 upon anybody svho is understood to draw a crowd. 
 
■t- 
 
 : 
 
 I 
 
 IM 
 
 330 
 
 Tkavfx and Talk 
 
 LXXXV 
 
 My Agents. — My experience of professional 
 agents generally in America has not been very 
 satisfactory. 
 
 I took on the services of a Hebrew gentleman 
 for a short time, who proposed to work up my Golden 
 Gate Hall lectures at Frisco. His schemes threatened 
 to be elaborate, costly, and mostly superfluous, much 
 of his work required promptly undoing, and until I 
 dealt with this son of Israel I never quite knew what 
 unconsidered superfluities meant. When it became 
 evident that I had to be the agent to watch the 
 agent, I resolved to dispense with the luxury. The 
 psychological moment arrived when, after an absence 
 of a day, I returned suddenly to find him sitting in 
 my private room, in front of my bureau strewn with 
 my letters and memoranda, and calmly using my 
 paper and envelopes. After this I became my own 
 agent. Indeed, the matter was simple. I required 
 no advertisement. The whole of Francisco knew 
 where I dined, took tea, and what I said, or did 
 not say, in the streets. The tradespeople printed 
 imaginary sentences as advertisements, and all kinds 
 of haberdashery and other articles were said to have 
 been used or recommended by me. The reporters, 
 when they could not hear or be present, put down 
 what they thought I ought to have said, and surpassed 
 themselves at last by making me present at two 
 public meetings at the same day and hour in different 
 parts of the city, at one of which I was reported as 
 making a speech about missions at Samoa, a mission 
 I know nothing of and an island I never visited. 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 331 
 
 People who sent me invitations registered my pre- 
 sence at their house in the papers whether I went 
 or not, and I could hardly ever go outside the hotel 
 without being accosted by some press gentleman 
 anxious to know where I was going then, where I had 
 been last, and, where I expected to be next, and what 
 I thought of the world and Life and Time and 
 Francisco. Exaggeration and mendacity seemed to 
 be reduced to a fine art. Contradiction or correction 
 made matters worse, so I ended by letting it all alone. 
 The use made of my antecedents was artistic, and 
 any peg seemed good enough to hang a legend on. 
 Great play was made of my having been an evening 
 preacher at Westminster Abbey and of my holding a 
 Crown living ; but this was not good enough. I was 
 paraded in print as special prcacJicr to her Majesty 
 Queen Victoria ! and as for Westminster Abbey, 
 you might have inferred that I preached there every 
 Sunday ! 
 
 I had indeed loafed about Naples and Capua, and 
 been present at the last great Garibaldian struggle 
 which ended in the capture of the Two Sicilies. I 
 had also induced Garibaldi to write some of his early 
 memories. This was not nearly sufficient. I had 
 been, so the papers informed me. Garibaldi's aide-de- 
 camp at Naples, been wounded by his side, was his 
 intimate friend, &c. ; in short, when anecdotes were 
 not forthcoming they were invented, and generally 
 everybody seemed to know more about my affairs 
 than I did ; from which it may be inferred that I had 
 small need of a Hebrew ally to * work up ' publicity for 
 my lectures at the Golden Gate Hall, San Francisco. 
 
 The plain truth is that my lecture room at Fr'sco 
 was never full ; the people knew well enough all 
 
" 
 
 332 
 
 Travfx and Talk 
 
 about my lectures, but they could hear me every 
 Sunday, often twice, and on week days beside, for 
 nothing, and why should they pay ? They did not 
 pay. The net profits on three Golden Gate Hall 
 lectures (although admission was only two shillings) 
 did not exceed forty pounds, exactly half the pro- 
 ceeds of one night at Sydney, Australia ! 
 
 But I have not quite done with my agents. In 
 crossing the Atlantic, I had met an influential gentle- 
 man, who was very anxious that I should visit 
 Montreal, and proposed a certain gentleman whom 
 I will call H. : ' Capital man to organise your route 
 all along the Canadian Pacific from Vancouver to 
 Montreal.' A great railway man, who heard me 
 give an impromptu talk on board the * Teutonic,' 
 White Star line, for the Seamen's School Charities, 
 offered me a free railway pass, and this decided me. 
 Wire communication with H. was set up ; and not 
 long before leaving Francisco, I received a splendid 
 programme mapping out my northern route, when 
 unexpectedly another wire arrived from the great 
 R. S. Smythe of Melbourne, offering me fifty nights in 
 Australia and New Zealand if I would step off the 
 Pacific coast, cither for Auckland or Sydney. But 
 the glamour of H.'s programme and a free pass over 
 the Rockies for the moment beckoned me to Canada. 
 At this time also I received the following kind letter 
 from his Excellency the Earl of Aberdeen, then 
 Governor of Canada, offering me the hospitality of 
 Government House, Ottawa : 
 
 I 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 333 
 
 'Government House, Ottawa: March 4, 1895. 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Hawels,— I have just received 
 your kind letter from Vancouver, and I hasten to ex- 
 press the pleasure which it gives me to hear from you. 
 
 ' Lady Aberdeen and I would certainly like very 
 much to be present on the occasion of your Montreal 
 lecture if it can possibly be managed, but unfortu- 
 nately we are not living there now, but at Ottawa, 
 which of course is our head quarters, and where we 
 have many engagements ahead — all the more because 
 as an exceptional thing (and to the surprise of our 
 Ottawa friends) we spent about seven weeks this 
 winter at Montreal. 
 
 ' Could you not come here for a night or two en route 
 either way } It would be a great pleasure to us to 
 see you, and you might make it a rest. We have to 
 be absent from to-morrow till Friday, but shall be here 
 all next week. Meanwhile, I will ask Mr. Cooper to 
 inform me as to your immediate movements. The 
 tickets have not yet arrived, though they may be on 
 their way. 
 
 * I hope your health has benefited by the trip. 
 
 • Yours very sincerely, 
 
 • Aberdeen. 
 
 ' March 8. 
 
 * P.S. — This letter has been returned to me from 
 Montreal with the explanation that owing to some 
 hindrances to the arrangements you are not to be in 
 this quarter on the present occasion, so I am sorry we 
 shall not see you. I hope you will have a pleasant 
 voyage and a successful tour in Australia.' 
 
 Visiting Tacoma and Seattle along the Pacific 
 
334 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 coast, I reached Vancouver to take up agent H.'s first 
 engagement. 
 
 Perhaps the management had been faulty ; anyhow 
 the attendance was wretched — there was not five 
 pounds in the house (I had not yet learned the secret 
 of running three nights in succession, a plan I after- 
 wards adopted with such good results in Tasmania 
 and New Zealand). 
 
 Hurrying on to Winnipeg, H.'s next engagement, 
 I secured two crowded houses, and overflowing con- 
 gregations on Sunday, my hymn of the ' Homeland ' 
 being sung in more than one church in recognition of 
 my presence in the city. Then followed in regular 
 succession a series of mysterious wires from agent H. 
 Toronto, Ottawa, even Montreal — all, it seems, had 
 broken down ! In one place the committee would 
 not come to terms ; in another no hall was vacant ; 
 in another the theatre had just been burnt down ; 
 and so forth ; in fact agent H. had brought me three 
 thousand miles out of my way on a paper programme 
 for two lectures, and the others had all collapsed ! 
 
 I 
 
 LXXXVI 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Garrett. — I immediately wired 
 to R. S. Smythe, and hurried back to the Pacific coast 
 gnashing my teeth. Receiving en route most pressing 
 invitations to return to Seattle, where I had already 
 preached and lectured, I went on there direct. I had 
 about a week to make out before sailing for Australia. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Garrett, of Seattle, and his amiable 
 and accomplished wife, a young lady brought up in 
 the chosen Concord circle of Emerson, Longfellow, 
 
Pulpit and Platform 
 
 335 
 
 and O. W. Holmes, welcomed me as an old friend. 
 Dr. Garrett, in plenitude of manly vigour, and filled 
 with a noble enthusiasm, gifted with eloquent speech, a 
 keen intellect, and a warm heart, constantly reminded 
 me of F. W. Robertson, of Brighton ; his sympathetic, 
 clear, but glowing pulpit addresses, full of fearless 
 thought, only strengthened the impression. 
 
 It was at his church that I preached again on 
 my return from Winnipeg. The crowd was such that 
 it was resolved for the evening service to take the 
 largest hall in Seattle, holding over two thousand five 
 hundred people. So in the evening Dr. Garrett, 
 together with his organist, surpliced choir and whole 
 staif, adjourned to the platform of the Public Hall, 
 and hastily arranged for an extemporised service. 
 
 I shall never forget the scene on that night. Dr. 
 Garrett read a shortened form of service with special 
 lessons most impressively ; he seemed filled and lifted 
 up with a kind of large-hearted sympathy for the 
 masses and their deep spiritual needs, and he spoke at 
 the beginning a few spontaneous words, explaining the 
 special occasion and exhorting the enormous gather- 
 ing to reverence and devotion. Soon after the service 
 began the doors had to be closed ; there was a surging 
 crowd outside pressing in at all entrances long after 
 there was no standing room in the hall. The stair- 
 cases were blocked. 
 
 A large American organ occupied the centre ot 
 the platform, and the white-robed choir spread in a 
 semicircle from the organ reaching up to the two 
 officiating clergy at both extremities of the arc. I had 
 no pulpit or reading desk, b'^'i afvcr the assembly had 
 
336 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 
 
 sung * The King of Love my Shepherd is ' with great 
 fervour, I ad.anced to the middle of the platform, 
 whence I could command a good view of the 
 thronged galleries, and commenced my address. 
 
 1 soon became aware that something unusual was 
 going on. Dr. Garrett more than once left his place, 
 went out, came back, went out again. My ear at times 
 caught strange murmurs, something like groans, in 
 the middle of a somewhat highly strung passage, in 
 which I paused to ask in detail what each had done, 
 was doing, with the powers of mind and body, oppor- 
 tunities, talents, which had been entrusted to them, 
 and dwelt on the sure and inexorable account to 
 be rendered for the waste or abuse of them ; I heard 
 abrupt sobs and exclamations ; a certain number of 
 the people fainted and were got out ; but Dr. Garrett 
 told me afterwards that much more than that had 
 been going on — in parts of the hall the excitement 
 became uncontrollable, and people fell down in fits. 
 ' Upon my word,' said my friend, ' in another moment 
 I thought we should have had the speaking with 
 tongues.' It was these unusual commotions, together 
 with the fear of accidents inside and disturbances 
 with the crowd outside, which seemed to call for the 
 personal attention of the Rector, who on so unusual 
 an occasion was very anxious, for the honour and good 
 repute of his Church, that everything should ' be done 
 decently and in order.' 
 
 On seeing the great eagerness of the people for a 
 liberal form of religious instruction, and consider- 
 ing Dr. Garrett's admirable fitness to impart it, I 
 urged my friend to open the big Hall (Ranke's) in 
 which I had preached, for a course of Sunday night 
 
ith great 
 platform, 
 
 of the 
 iss. 
 
 sual was 
 is place, 
 
 at times 
 roans, in 
 5sage, in 
 id done, 
 ', oppor- 
 o them, 
 :ount to 
 
 I heard 
 imber of 
 
 Garrett 
 :hat had 
 :itement 
 
 in fits, 
 moment 
 ig with 
 :ogether 
 rbances 
 
 for the 
 unusual 
 id good 
 be done 
 
 lie for a 
 )nsider- 
 irt it, I 
 ke's) in 
 y night 
 
 I'ULi'iT AND Platform 
 
 Zl>7 
 
 services for the people, and aim directly at the 
 working classes. He did so with the happiest 
 results. The following kind letter records, amongst 
 other things, this agreeable fact : 
 
 'Seattle : May 13, 1S95. 
 
 'My dear Mr. Haweis,— lam greatly delighted 
 this morning over the arrival of your good letter 
 written as you were ncaring Sydney. We have been 
 hoping to have a letter from you, and did not realise 
 how long it would take for you to complete your 
 voyage. It is too bad that you had via I dc incr, but 
 I hope you were able to " brace up " for your lectures. 
 I envy the Australians the pleasure they are having. 
 You were on shore for Easter, and I hope you thought 
 of us on that day. I want you to know how con- 
 stantly you are in our conversation. We look on 
 your face every day, and pour forth our desire to see 
 you again. Mrs. Pumphrey cherishes the memory of 
 your visit, and speaks of you every time we meet. 
 She told me a few days ago that two different 
 persons had said to her that since childhood they had 
 never prayed, but after your sermon on Prayer they 
 had attempted prayer with the most comfortittg re- 
 sults. Now is not that worth all of your trip around 
 the world with Seattle thrown in ? 
 
 ' You made a wonderful impression here. Only a 
 short time ago I saw an editorial in one of our papers 
 that began : *' When the Rev. Mr. Haweis was in 
 Seattle, he said," &c. &c. We had a glorious Easter 
 as told in the " Rubric " I have sent you. The congre- 
 gations hold up remarkably well. Church crowded 
 every Sunday. Yesterday I preached on "The 
 
 VOL. I Z 
 
i3^ 
 
 TUAVKK AND TaI-K 
 
 ) 
 
 Ij 
 
 
 Nature of Cluist's Risen Hotly, aiul its relation to a 
 (leiUM-.il Ivesurrection." It was suj^j^ested by a sermon 
 of Heber Newton's that has made a sensation. I 
 took the gmuml that Christ's physical body was 
 ream'inatcil, somethiiii; not so extiaordinai)-, but a 
 phenomenon within the lan^e of possibilit)' to-da)- ; 
 but this reanimalion or the return of the si)irit to the 
 earthly form was the beginning of the t.jaiiLje out of 
 the earthl\- altoj^cther intt) the si)iritual ; that the risen 
 body of Christ was in the state of semi-j;lorification ; 
 that eventually men would all die that way we don't 
 know how to die now : time will come perhaps when 
 gradually the animal will disappear, and the spiritual 
 srrow more and more luminous until the whole 
 spiritual body has emerged from the ph)'sical and 
 can ascend at will into the heavens, I held that the 
 risen body of Christ is not to be regarded as the exact 
 pattern of the j;cneral resurrection body, which will 
 be the clothing of the spirit with some lighter form ; 
 " the standing up ai;ain in immortality." It made a 
 deep impression, and numbers came to mc afterwards 
 to thank mc. 
 
 ' If you get the *' Rubric " you will read about the 
 Ranke Hall services, which I kept up at your sug- 
 gestion and which proved a great success in every 
 way. W'c had crowds of working men, and the 
 interest was sustained to the close. 
 
 ' How we wish you were here for this fine weather 
 with the mountains all out, and the whole environ- 
 ment as beautiful as that of Naples or Constantinople. 
 But you will see scenery enough before you dine in 
 London. 
 
 ' The children often speak of you, and will always 
 remember their kind friend. Whenever you can write, 
 
PUM'IT AND 1*1 ATIOKM 
 
 ^^9 
 
 it will make us very liapp)'. WhaU'cr Inlide, thiiiU 
 of us always as the (rucsl and nuvsl dcvctlcd iVitiids. 
 
 ' Yours affci liniiaU'ly, 
 
 • D. C. Gaukktt.' 
 
 Aftrr accepting an cni^a^cincut from the manaj^jcr 
 of the Opera House ;it Seattle to ^ive a week-ni^ht 
 address tlealiu}^ with Colonel Iuj^tsoII and the Miblc, 
 on whieh occasion I sj)()ke for two hours, I hurried 
 up to Vancouver, where, by rcfjuest, I ^ave one more 
 lecture before sailing for Sydney. 
 
 Remembering the meaj^re attendance on my first 
 appearance there a fortm'ght before, I was certainly 
 not sani^uine ; but arrivin}_j at five nn'mites to cij^hl 
 I found the staircase crowded. The hall was full ; even 
 my private room and the sta^e were invaded, and I 
 had to ri^ up a temi>orary screen on one side of the 
 platform to retire behind for breathing space between 
 the parts. I attribute this favourable reaction entire!)' 
 to my havinjT preached at Vancouver before leaving 
 for Winnipeg, a practice to which my managers have 
 been invariably opposed. 
 
 On the following night a public reception was 
 tendered me at Vancouver under the presidency of 
 my kind friend the Rev. Dr. Tucker, who had been 
 forward to welcome me on my previous visit. I went 
 on board the ' Miowera ' at midnight, and sailed before 
 dawn on March l6, 1895, f(jr Sydney t(j fulfil my fifty 
 nights' engagement under R. S. Smythe, the king of 
 managers in the Australasian colonics. 
 
 UNivrr;, TT 
 
 MOUNT ALlISO^J, 
 
 LIBRARY. J 
 
340 
 
 Travel and Talk 
 
 I have thought it convenient to tlimw together in 
 one coup (iivil some of my more special Pulpit and 
 Platform experiences in America, although this has 
 compelled me to allude to some events and [)laces 
 which belong only to my 1895 visit to the Pacific 
 Coast. Having thus made a leap forward at the end 
 of vol. i. to the March of 1895, I shall have to retrace 
 my steps, like the old novelists, at the beginning of 
 vol. ii., in order to gather up the incidents of contem- 
 porary travel from December 1894 to IVIarch 1895 
 which have, for the sake of clearness and continuity, 
 been separated from their Pulpit and Platform 
 accompaniments. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME 
 
 . PRINTja) IlY . , 
 
 SI'oTTlSWOODli Ar;i) 10., NKW STKI FT Srt AUK 
 LD.NIiDN 
 
;cthcr in 
 
 ilpit and 
 
 this has 
 
 d places 
 
 2 Pacific 
 : the end 
 
 3 retrace 
 lining of 
 contem- 
 :h 1895 
 ntinuity, 
 ■Matform