A Frenchman in America Part 37

But since the American has to live alongside the negro, would it not be worth his while to treat him politely and honestly, give him his due as an equal, if not in his eyes, at any rate in the eyes of the law? Would it not be worth his while to remember that the "darky" cannot be gradually disposed of like the Indian, for Sambo adapts himself to his surroundings, multiplies apace, goes to school, and knows how to read, write, and reckon. Reckon especially.

It might be well to remember, too, that all the greatest, bloodiest revolutions the world has ever seen were set on foot, not to pay off hardships, but as revenge for injustice. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" was called a romance, nothing but a romance, by the aristocratic Southerners; but, to use the Carlylian phrase, their skins went to bind the hundreds of editions of that book. Another "Uncle Tom's Cabin" may yet appear.

America will have "to work her thinking machine" seriously on this subject, and that before many years are over. If the next Presidential election is not run on the negro question, the succeeding one surely will be.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

FOOTNOTE:

[4] A fee of ten dollars ent.i.tles a student to the privileges of permanent membership in the University.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

MR. AND MRS. KENDAL IN NEW YORK--JOSEPH JEFFERSON--JULIAN HAWTHORNE--MISS ADA REHAN--"AS YOU LIKE IT" AT DALY'S THEATER.

_New York, March 28._

The New York papers this morning announce that the "Society of Young Girls of Pure Character on the Stage" give a lunch to Mrs. Kendal to-morrow.

Mr. and Mrs. Kendal have conquered America. Their tour is a triumphal march through the United States, a huge success artistically, financially, and socially.

I am not surprised at it. I went to see them a few days ago in "The Ironmaster," and they delighted me. As _Claire_ Mrs. Kendal was admirable. She almost succeeded in making me forget Madame Jane Hading, who created the part at the Gymnase, in Paris, six years ago.

This morning Mr. Joseph Jefferson called on me at the Everett House. The veteran actor, who looks more like a man of fifty than like one of over sixty, is now playing with Mr. William J. Florence in "The Rivals." I had never seen him off the stage. I immediately saw that the characteristics of the actor were the characteristics of the man--kindness, naturalness, simplicity, _bonhomie_, and _finesse_. An admirable actor, a great artist, and a lovable man.

At the Down-Town Club, I lunched with the son of Nathaniel Hawthorne--the greatest novelist that America has yet produced--Mr.

Julian Hawthorne, himself a novelist of repute. Lately he has written a series of sensational novels in collaboration with the famous New York detective, Inspector Byrnes. Mr. Julian Hawthorne is a man of about forty-five, tall, well-proportioned, with an artistic-looking head crowned with grayish hair, that reminds a Frenchman of Alexandre Dumas, _fils_, and an American of Nathaniel Hawthorne. A charming, unaffected man, and a delightful _causeur_.

In the evening I went to Daly's Theater and saw "As You Like It." That bewitching queen of actresses, Miss Ada Rehan, played _Rosalind_. Miss Rehan is so original that it would be perfectly impossible to compare her to any of the other great actresses of France and England. She is like n.o.body else. She is herself. The coaxing drawl of her musical voice, the vivacity of her movements, the whimsical spontaneity that seems to direct her acting, her tall, handsome figure, her beautiful, intellectual face, all tend to make her a unique actress. She fascinates you, and so gets hold of you, that when she is on the stage she entirely fills it. Mr. John Drew as _Orlando_ and Mr. James Drew as _Touchstone_ were admirable.

It matters little what the play-bill announces at Daly's Theater. If I have not seen the play, I am sure to enjoy it; if I have seen it already, I am sure to enjoy it again.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

WASHINGTON--THE CITY--WILLARD'S HOTEL--THE POLITICIANS--GENERAL BENJAMIN HARRISON, U. S. PRESIDENT--WASHINGTON SOCIETY--BALTIMORE--PHILADELPHIA.

_Washington, April 3._

Arrived here the day before yesterday, and put up at Willard's. I prefer this huge hotel to the other more modern houses of the capital, because it is thoroughly American; because it is in its rotunda that every evening the leading men of all parties and the notables of the nation may be found; because to meet at Willard's at night is as much the regular thing as to perform any of the official functions of office during the day; because, to use the words of a guide, which speaks the truth, it is pleasant to live in this historical place, in apartments where battles have been planned and political parties have been born or doomed to death, to become familiar with surroundings amid which Presidents have drawn their most important papers and have chosen their Cabinet Ministers, and where the proud beauties of a century have held their Court.

On the subject of Washington hotels, I was told a good story the other day.

[Ill.u.s.tration: EVENING AT WILLARD'S.]

The most fashionable hotel of this city having outgrown its s.p.a.ce, the proprietors sent a note to a lady, whose back yard adjoined, to say, that, contemplating still enlarging their hotel, they would be glad to know at what price she would sell her yard, and they would hand her the amount without any more discussion. The lady, in equally Yankee style, replied that she had been contemplating enlarging her back yard, and was going to inquire what they would take for part of their hotel!

How beautiful this city of Washington is, with its wide avenues, its parks, and its buildings! That Capitol, in white marble, standing on elevated ground, against a bright blue sky, is a poem--an epic poem.

I am never tired of looking at the expanse of cloudless blue that is almost constantly stretched overhead. The sunsets are glorious. The poorest existence would seem bearable under such skies. I am told they are better still further West. I fancy I should enjoy to spend some time on a farm, deep in the country, far from the noisy, crowded streets, but I fear I am condemned to see none but the busy haunts of Jonathan.

In the evening I went to what is called a colored church. The place was packed with negroes of all shades and ages; the women, some of them very smartly dressed, and waving scarlet fans. In a pew sat a trio truly gorgeous. Mother, in black shiny satin, light-brown velvet mantle covered with iridescent beads, bonnet to match. Daughter of fifteen; costume of sky-blue satin, plush mantle, scarlet red, chinchilla fur tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, white hat with feathers. Second girl, or daughter, light-blue velvet, from top to toe, with large hat, apple-green and gold.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A GORGEOUS TRIO.]

Every one was intently listening to the preacher, a colored man, who gave them, in graphic language and stentorian voice, the story of the capture of the Jews by Cyrus, their slavery and their delivery. A low accompaniment of "Yes!" "Hear, hear!" "Allelujah!" "Glory!" from the hearers, showed their approbation of the discourse. From time to time, there would be a general chuckle or laughter, and exclamations of delight from the happy grin-lit mouths, as, for instance, when the preacher described the supper of Belshazzar, and the appearance of the writing on the wall, in his own droll fashion. "'Let's have a fine supper,' said Belshazzar. 'Dere's ole Cyrus out dere, but we'll have a good time and enjoy ourselves, and never mind him.' So he went for de cups dat had come from de Temple of Jerusalem, and began carousin'! Dere is Cyrus, all de while, marchin' his men up de bed ob de river. I see him comin'! I see him!" Then he pictured the state all that wicked party got in at the sight of the writing n.o.body could read, and by this time the excitement of the congregation was tremendous. The preacher thought this a good opportunity to point a moral. So he proceeded: "Now, drink is a poor thing; dere's too much of it in dis here city." Here followed a picture of certain darkies, who cut a dash with shiny hats and canes, and frequented bars and saloons. "When folks take to drinkin', somefin's sure to go wrong." Grins and grunts of approbation culminated in perfect shouts of glee, as the preacher said: "Ole Belshazzar and de rest of 'em forgot to shut de city gate, and in came Cyrus and his men."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PREACHER.]

They went nearly wild with pleasure over the story of the liberation of the Jews, and incidental remarks on their own freeing. "Oh, let dem go,"

said their masters, when they found the game was up, "dey'll soon perish and die out!" Here the preacher laughed loudly, and then shouted: "But we don't die out so easy!" [Grins and chuckling.]

One old negro was very funny to watch. When something met with his approval, he gave off a little "tchsu, tchsu!" and writhed forward and back on his seat for a moment, apparently in intense enjoyment; then jumped off his seat, turning round once or twice; then he would listen intently again, as if afraid to lose a word.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OLD NEGRO.]

"I see dis, I see dat," said the preacher continually. His listeners seemed to see it too.

At ten minutes to twelve yesterday morning, I called at the White House.

The President had left the library, but he was kind enough to return, and at twelve I had the honor to spend a few minutes in the company of General Benjamin Harrison. Two years ago I was received by Mr. Grover Cleveland with the same courtesy and the same total absence of red tape.

The President of the United States is a man about fifty-five years old; short, exceedingly neat, and even _recherche_ in his appearance. The hair and beard are white, the eyes small and very keen. The face is severe, but lights up with a most gentle and kind smile.

General Harrison is a popular president; but the souvenir of Mrs.

Cleveland is still haunting the minds of the Washingtonians. They will never forget the most beautiful lady who ever did the honors of the White House, and most of them look forward to the possibility of her returning to Washington in March, 1893.

Washington society moves in circles and sets. The wife of the President and the wives and daughters of the Cabinet Ministers form the first set--Olympus, as it were. The second set is composed of the ladies belonging to the families of the Judges of the Supreme Court! The Senators come next. The Army circle comes fourth. The House of Representatives supplies the last set. Each circle, a Washington friend tells me, is controlled by rigid laws of etiquette. Senators' wives consider themselves much superior to the wives of Congressmen, and the Judges' wives consider themselves much above those of the Senators. But, as a rule, the great lion of Washington society is the British Minister, especially when he happens to be a real live English lord. All look up to him; and if a young t.i.tled English _attache_ wishes to marry the richest heiress of the capital, all he has to do is to throw the handkerchief, the young and the richest natives do not stand the ghost of a chance.