LATOUR COURT, LONG ISLAND,
_Saturday._
Dearest Mamma,--We are here for Sunday, but first I must tell you of the
day "down town." We went with one of the interesting business men we have
met lately, and we seemed to motor for miles along Fifth Avenue until one
would think one was dreaming; all the houses seemed to be from fifteen to
twenty-five stories high, and so the air rushes down the gorges the streets
are, like a tornado, even if it is not a particularly windy day. It is a
mercy American women have such lovely feet and nice shapes, because when
they cross to a place called the Flat Iron Building the gusts do what they
please with their garments. I am quite sure if the Roués' Club in
Piccadilly could get itself removed to a house just here, those wicked old
men would spend their days glued to the windows. Well, we passed Washington
Square, which has a look of Russell or Bedford Squares, part of it, and
beyond that I can't remember the names of the streets; it all was so
crowded and intent and wonderful,--people racing and chasing after wealth,
I suppose.
Finally we got to Wall Street and the Stock Exchange. And Wall Street is
quite a little narrow, ordinary street, almost as mean as our Threadneedle
or Lombard Streets! The Stock Exchange is the most beautiful building! I
don't suppose you have ever been in one, Mamma, and I certainly shall never
want to see another. Imagine a colossal room as high as a church, with a
Greek roof and a gallery at one end, and down below countless human
beings--men at highest tension dealing with stocks and shares, in a noise
of hell which in groups here and there rose to a scream of exaltation or a
roar of disappointment. How anyone could keep nerves or hearing sense,
after a week of it, one cannot imagine. No wonder American men have nervous
prostration, and are so often a little deaf. The floor was strewn with bits
of paper, that they had used to make calculations on, and they had a lovely
kind of game of snowballing with it now and then--I suppose to vary the
monotony of shouting and screaming. The young ones would pelt each other.
It must have been a nice change.--Then there were a lot of partitions with
glass panels at the end of the room, and into these they kept rushing like
rabbits into their holes, to send telegrams about the prices, I suppose.
And all the while in a balcony half way up one of the great blank empty
walls, a dear old white bearded gentleman sat and gazed in a benevolent way
at the shrieking crowd below.
They told us he was there to keep order! But no one appeared to care a pin
for his presence, and as he did not seem to mind, either, what row they
made, we rather wondered what the occasions could be when he would exert
his authority! Presently he went away to lunch, and as no one else took his
place, they were able to make as much noise as they liked, though it did
not seem any greater than before.
Can you imagine, Mamma, spending days in a place like that? No wonder when
they get up town they don't want to talk. But Mrs. Van Brounker-Courtfield
says everyone is too restless to stay quietly at home in the evenings, and
when they have pulled themselves together with a cocktail they have to
dress and go out to dine at some restaurant or with friends, and then the
theatre. At first one thinks they are simply angels to their wives, working
all day long down town like that--they seem a race of predestined
husbands. If one wanted a husband who spent his entire day away from one
and was too tired when he came in to talk of anything but a few sentences
on Wall Street affairs, one would certainly choose a rich American, because
he would load one with money and jewels, and absolutely obey one when he
was at home, and let one spend most of the time in Europe. But Mrs. Van
Brounker-Courtfield says all that is only a sop to Cerberus, to keep the
wives from grumbling at not being made love to like women of other nations
are; that all men are hunters, and while ours in England chase foxes and
are thrilled with politics the New Yorkers hunt dollars, and it is the same
thing. Wall Street is their adored mistress, and the wives are just their
family. As you were married such ages ago I don't know if you quite
understand what I mean about men, Mamma, and the effect they have on one.
There are creatures who,--the moment they come into the room you know they
are there. You _know_ it isn't a woman. It is not an intellectual or
soul feeling, but it is rather lovely, all the same, and although I am
furious with Harry and intend to be horrid to him, I must say he has this
power stronger than anyone I have ever met; when he is close to me I have a
kind of creep of pleasure, and when he kisses those little curls at the
back of my neck I feel thrills all down my back. Do you know what I mean,
Mamma? I have divided men up into two lots. Those one could go to Australia
alone with, and those one couldn't, and it does not matter in the least
their age or looks or station or anything, it is just whether or no they
have got this quality. Well, as far as I have seen, Valerie Latour's
husband and one or two others are the only men who have it here in New
York, although lots are very good looking and intelligent, and all are
kind; but there is a didactic way of talking, a complete absence of
subtlety or romance.--And even those it would be perfectly safe to go
with; because they would not dream of making love to one, but they have the
igniting quality in themselves. Some of the elder men over forty are really
attractive and intensely clever, but as everyone is married, one would
always have the bore of the wives' frowns if one played with them. How I do
wander from what I was telling you!
Tom came with us to the Stock Exchange. We have to leave him at home when
we go to the women's lunches, but he spends the time with Valerie Latour,
and in the late afternoons he goes to the Clubs with the husbands, and he
says they are awfully good fellows and many brilliantly amusing, and full
of common sense; but at some of the clubs they have not got any unwritten
laws as to manners, so now and then when they get rather drunk, they are
astonishingly rude to one another. It is not considered a great disgrace
for a young man to get tipsy here; the slang for it is to get "full." There
are two grades, "fresh" and "full." When you are "fresh" you are just
breezy and what we would call "above yourself;" but when you are "full,"
you can't speak plain, and are sometimes unsteady on your feet, so it is
very unpleasant. You can be "fresh," too, without having drunk anything, if
you have an uppish nature. Octavia and I were perfectly astonished the
first time we heard it spoken of. A rather nice looking boy who was at
dinner had apparently been "full" the night before, and the women on both
sides of him chaffed him and scolded him as if it were a joke. I am glad it
is still considered a disgrace in England, because when it does occur it is
kept out of sight.
After the Stock Exchange we went to see the workings of one of the great
journals. That was too wonderful, Mamma, everything happening in a vast
room on one floor; compositing, typewriting, printing, and sorting. It is
astonishing the tremendous power of concentrating the will to be able to
think in that flurry and noise;--hundreds of clean-shaven young men in
shirt-sleeves smoking cigars or cigarettes and doing their various duties.
The types interested us so; physiognomy counts for nothing,
apparently,--faces that might have been the first Napoleon or Tennyson or
even Shakespeare,--doing the simple manual part of lifting the blocks of
metal and attending to the machinery, older men, these;--and the Editor,
who naturally must have been very clever, had a round moon face, tiny baby
nose, two marbles stuffed in for eyes and the look of a boyish simpleton.
Tom was so enchanted because at the sporting editor's desk there were a
party of prize fighters, the "world's light weight"--whatever that means, a
half "coloured gentleman," that is what niggers are called--with such white
teeth and wiry and slight; and two large bull dogs of men who were
heavyweights. I felt obliged to ask them if they minded at all having their
noses smashed in and black eyes, and if they felt nervous ever, and the
little coloured gentleman grinned and said he only felt nervous over the
money of the thing! He was not anxious about the art or fame! He just
wanted to win. Is not that an extraordinary point of view, Mamma--_To
win_? It is the national motto, it seems; _how_, does not matter so
much; and that is what makes them so splendidly successful, and that is
what the other nations who play games with them don't understand. They,
poor old-fashioned things, are taking an interest in the sport part, and
so scattering their forces, while the Americans are concentrating on the
winning. And it is this quality which of course will make them the rulers
of the world in time.
All the people were so courteous to us, and naturally Tom was more
interested in this than any of the things we have yet seen. One reporter
who showed us round had a whimsical sense of humour (not "American humour,"
that, as I told you before, is different) and we really enjoyed ourselves,
and before we were out of the building they presented us with copies of the
paper with accounts of our visit in the usual colossalised style. Was not
that quick work, Mamma?
The things they put in the papers here are really terrible, and must be
awfully exciting for the little boys and girls who read them going to
school; every paltry scandal in enormous headlines, and the most intimate
details of people's lives exposed and exaggerated, while the divorces and
suicides fill every page. But if there is anything good happening, like
sailors behaving well at sea and saving lives, or any fine but
unsensational thing, it only gets a small notice. The poor reporters can't
help it; they are dismissed unless they worry people for interviews and
write "catchy" articles about them, so, of course, they can't stick to the
truth; and as the people who read like to hear something spicy, they are
obliged to give it all a lurid turn. The female ones are sometimes
spiteful; I expect because women often can't help being so about
everything. These wonderfully sensational papers have only developed in the
last ten years, we are told, so they have not had time to see the effect it
is going to have upon the coming generation.
The better people don't pay the least attention to anything that is
printed, but of course ordinary people in any country would.
We lunched in the most fashionable restaurant down town, but I never can
describe to you, Mamma, the noise and flurry and rush of it. As if
countless men screaming at the top of their voices and every plate being
rattled by scurrying waiters, were not enough, there was the loudest band
as well! Unless you simply yelled you could not make your neighbour hear. I
suppose it is listening to the other din at the Stock Exchange all the
morning;--they would feel lonely if they had quiet to eat in.
Our party was augmented by a celebrated judge, and some other lawyers. We
had been told he was most learned and a wonderful wit, and someone we
should see as a representative American; half the people said he was a
"crook," and the other half that he was the "only straight" judge; and when
I asked what a "crook" was, our host told me the word explained itself, but
that you would be called a crook by all the trusts if you gave judgment
against them, just as, if you let them off, you would be the only honest
judge. So whatever you were called did not amount to anything! The Judge
was much younger than our judges, and had a moustache, and looked just like
ordinary people, and not a bit dignified.
As he has to deliver long speeches when he is judging, one would have
thought he might have liked a little rest and light conversation when he
came out to lunch, especially as every man likes to talk to Octavia and me;
but not a bit of it, he continued to lay down the law in a didactic way so
that no one else could speak. He did not even pretend to be interested in
us. What he said was all quite clever and splendidly put, but having to
show politeness and listen with one's fork suspended in the air, lets the
food get cold, and as it was excellent, all sorts of lovely American
dishes, at last I just attended to that, and did not hear some of his
speeches.
The band suddenly stopped and Octavia's voice saying, "Indeed" (all she
could get in) rang out like the man on the Lusitania shouting orders down
the megaphone; and when we got outside we all felt deaf and had sore
throats.
The intense relief to come here out of all noise or hustle, to Valerie
Latour's for Sunday! But I am so tired now I will finish this to-morrow.
Your affectionate daughter,
ELIZABETH.