WASHINGTON
I
My own first real impression of the United States lay in my sorrow that
I had been betrayed into winter underclothing.
When the Prince left Ottawa on the afternoon of November 10th in the
President's train, the weather was bitterly cold. I suppose it was
bitterly cold for most of the run south, but an American train does not
allow a hint of such a thing to penetrate. The train was steam-heated
to a point to which I had never been trained. And at Washington the
station was steam-heated and the hotel was steam-heated, and Washington
itself was, for that moment, on the steam-heated latitude. America, I
felt, had rather "put it over on me."
It was at 8.20 on the night of Monday the 10th that the Prince entered
the United States at the little station of Rouses Point. There was
very little ceremony, and it took only the space of time to change our
engine of Canada to an engine of America. But the short ceremony under
the arc lamps, and in the centre a small crowd, had attraction and
significance.
On the platform were drawn up ranks of khaki men, but khaki men with a
new note to us. It was a guard of honour of "Doughboys," stocky and
useful-looking fellows, in their stetsons and gaiters. Close to them
was a band of American girls, holding as a big canopy the Union Jack
and the Stars and Stripes joined together to make one flag, joined in
one piece to signify the meeting-place of the two Anglo-Saxon peoples
also.
With this company were the officials who had come to welcome the Prince
at the border. They were led by Mr. Lansing, the Secretary of State,
Major-General Biddle, who commanded the Americans in England, and who
was to be the Prince's Military aide, and Admiral Niblack, who was to
be the Naval aide while the Prince was the guest of the United States.
The Prince in a Guard's greatcoat greeted his new friends, and
inspected the Doughboys, laughing back at the crowd when some one
called: "Good for you, Prince." To the ladies who held the twin flags
he also expressed his thanks, telling them it was very nice of them to
come out on so cold a night to meet him. Feminine America was, for an
instant, non-plussed, and found nothing to answer. But their vivacity
quickly came back to them, and they very quickly returned the
friendliness and smiles of the Prince, shook his hand and wished him
the happiest of visits in their country.
The interchange of nationalities in engines being effected, the train
swung at a rapid pace beside the waters of Lake Champlain, pushing
south along the old marching route into and out of Canada.
On the morning of November 11th it was raining heavily and the train
ran through a depressing greyness. We were all eager to see America,
and see her at her best, but a train journey, especially in wet
weather, shows a country at its worst. The short stops, for instance,
in the stations of great cities like Philadelphia and Baltimore were
the sort of things to give a false impression. The stations themselves
were empty, a novelty to us, who had had three months of crowded
stations, and, also, about these stations we saw slums, for the first
time on this Western continent. After having had the conviction grow
up within me that this Continent was the land of comely and decent
homes, the sight of these drab areas and bad roads was, personally, a
shock. Big and old cities find it hard to eliminate slums, but it
seemed to me that it would be merely good business to remove such
places from out of sight of the railways, and to plan town approaches
on a more impressive scale. America certainly can plan buildings on an
impressive scale. It has the gift of architecture.
The train went through to Washington in what was practically a non-stop
run, and arrived in the rain. The Prince was received in the rain at
the back of the train, though that reception was truncated, so that the
great Americans who were there to meet him could be presented in the
dryness under the station roof.
Heading the group of notable men who met the Prince was the
Vice-President, Mr. Marshall, and with him was the British Ambassador,
Lord Grey, and General Pershing, a popular figure with the waiting
crowd and a hero regarded with rapture by American young
womanhood--which was willing to break the Median regulations of the
American police to get "just one look at him."
Outside the station there was a vast crowd of American men and women
who had braved the downpour to give the Prince a welcome of that
peculiarly generous quality which we quickly learnt was the natural
expression of the American feeling towards guests.
I was told, too, that crowds along the streets caught up that very
cheerful greeting, so that all through his ride along the beautiful
streets to the Belmont House in New Hampshire Avenue, which was to be
his home in Washington, the Prince was made aware of the hospitality
extended to him.
But of this fact I can only speak from hearsay. The Press
Correspondents were unable to follow His Royal Highness through the
city. We were told that a car was to be placed at our disposal, as one
had been elsewhere, and we were asked to wait our turn. Wait we
certainly did, until the last junior attache had been served. By that
time, however, His Royal Highness had outdistanced us, for, without a
car and without being able to join the procession at an early interval,
we lost touch with happenings.
By the time we were able to get on to the route the streets were
deserted; all we could do was to admire through the rain the
architecture of one of the most beautiful cities of the world.
Apart from the rain on the first day, there was another factor which
handicapped Washington in its welcome to the Prince--the warmth of
which could not be doubted when it had opportunity for adequate
expression. This was the fact that no program of his doings was
published. For some reason which I do not pretend to understand, the
time-table of his comings and goings about the city was not issued to
the Press, so that the people of Washington had but vague ideas of
where to see him. The Washington journalists protested to us that this
was unfair to a city that has such a great and just reputation for its
public hospitality.
However, where the Prince and the Washington people did come together
there was an immediate and mutual regard. There was just such a
"mixing" that evening, when he visited the National Press Club.
He had spent the day quietly, receiving and returning calls. One of
these calls was upon President Wilson at the White House, the Prince
driving through this city of an ideal in architecture come true, to
spend ten minutes with Mrs. Wilson in a visit of courtesy.
The National Press Club at Washington is probably unique of its kind.
I don't mean by that that it is comfortable and attractive; all
American and Canadian clubs are supremely comfortable and attractive,
for in this Continent clubs have been exalted to the plane of a
gracious and fine art; I mean that the spirit of the club gave it a
distinguished and notable quality.
America being a country extremely interested in politics--Americans
enter into politics as Englishmen enter into cricket--and Washington
being the vibrant centre of that intense political concern, the most
acute brains of the American news world naturally gravitate to the
Capital. The National Press Club at Washington is a club of experts.
Its membership is made up of men whose keen intelligence, brilliance in
craft and devotion to their calling has lifted them to the top of the
tree in their own particular _metier_.
There was about these men that extraordinary zest in work and every
detail of that work that is the secret of American driving power. With
them, and with every other American I came into contact with, I felt
that work was attacked with something of the joy of the old craftsman.
My own impression after a short stay in America is that the American
works no harder, and perhaps not so hard as the average Briton; but he
works with infinitely more zest, and that is what makes him the
dangerous fellow in competition that he is.
The Prince had met many journalists at Belmont House in the morning,
and had very readily accepted an invitation to visit them at their
club, and after dinner he came not into this den of lions, but into a
den of Daniels--a condition very trying for lions. Arriving in evening
dress, his youth seemed accentuated among so many shrewd fellows, who
were there obviously not to take him or any one for granted.
From the outset his frankness and entire lack of affectation created
the best of atmospheres, and in a minute or two his sense of humour had
made all there his friends. Having met a few of the journalist corps
in the morning, he now expressed a wish to meet them all. The
President of the Club raised his eyebrows, and, indicating the packed
room, suggested that "all" was, perhaps, a large order. The Prince
merely laughed: "All I ask is that you don't grip too hard," he said,
and he shook hands with and spoke to every member present.
The Prince certainly made an excellent impression upon men able to
judge the quality of character without being dazzled by externals, and
many definite opinions were expressed after he left concerning his
modesty, his manliness and his faculty for being "a good mixer," which
is the faculty Americans most admire.
II
Wednesday, November 13th, was a busy day. The Prince was out early
driving through the beautiful avenues of the city in a round of
functions.
Washington is one of the most attractive of cities to drive in. It is
a city, one imagines, built to be the place where the architects'
dreams come true. It has the air of being a place where the designer
has been able to work at his best; climate and a clarified air, natural
beauty and the approbation of brother men have all conspired to help
and stimulate.
It has scores of beautiful and magnificently proportioned buildings,
each obviously the work of a fine artist, and practically every one of
those buildings has been placed on a site as effective and as
appropriate as its design. That, perhaps, was a simple matter, for the
whole town had been planned with a splendid art. Its broad avenues and
its delightful parks fit in to the composite whole with an exquisite
justness. Its residences have the same charm of excellent
craftsmanship one appreciates in the classic public buildings; they are
mellow in colouring, behind their screen of trees; nearly all are true
and fine in line, while some--an Italianate house on, I think, 15th
Avenue, which is the property of Mr. McLean of the _Washington Post_,
is one--are supremely beautiful.
The air of the city is astonishingly clear, and the grave white
buildings of the Public Offices, the splendid white aspiration of the
skyscrapers, have a sparkling quality that shows them to full
advantage. There may, of course, be more beautiful cities than
Washington, but certainly Washington is beautiful enough.
The streets have an exhilaration. There is an intense activity of
humanity. Automobiles there are, of course, by the thousand, parked
everywhere, with policemen strolling round to chalk times on them, or
to impound those cars that previous chalk-marks show to have been
parked beyond the half-hour or hour of grace. The sidewalks are vivid
with the shuttling of the smartest of women, women who choose their
clothes with a crispness, a _flair_ of their own, and which owes very
little to other countries, and carry them and themselves with a vivid
exquisiteness that gives them an undeniable individuality. The stores
are as the Canadian stores, only there are more of them, and they are
bigger. Their windows make a dado of attractiveness along the streets,
but, all the same, I do not think the windows are dressed quite as well
as in London, and I'm nearly sure not so well as in Canada--but this is
a mere masculine opinion.
Through this attractive city the Prince drove in a round of ceremonies.
His first call was at the Headquarters of the American Red Cross, then
wrung with the fervours of a "tag" week of collecting. From here he
went to the broad, sweet park beside the Potomac, where a noble
memorial was being erected to the memory of Lincoln. This, as might be
expected from this race of fine builders, is an admirable Greek
structure admirably situated in the green of the park beside the river.
The Prince went over the building, and gained an idea of what it would
be like on completion from the plans. He also surprised his guides by
his intimate knowledge of Lincoln's life and his intense admiration for
him.
At the hospital, shortly after, he visited two thousand of "My comrades
in arms," as he called them. Outside the hospital on the lawns were
many men who had been wounded at Chateau Thierry, some in wheeled
chairs. Seeing them, the Prince swung aside from his walk to the
hospital entrance and chatted with them, before entering the wards to
speak with others of the wounded men.
On leaving the hospital he was held up. A Red Cross nurse ran up to
him and "tagged" him, planting the little Red Cross button in his coat
and declaring that the Prince was enrolled in the District Chapter.
The Prince very promptly countered with a dollar bill, the official
subscription, saying that his enrolment must be done in proper style
and on legal terms.
In the afternoon, the Prince utilized his free time in making a call on
the widow of Admiral Dewey, spending a few minutes in interesting
conversation with her.
The evening was given over to one of the most brilliant scenes of the
whole tour. At the head of the splendid staircase of white marble in
the Congress Library he held a reception of all the members of the
Senate and the House of Representatives, their wives and their families.
Even to drive to such a reception was to experience a thrill.
As the Prince drove down the straight and endless avenues that strike
directly through Washington to the Capitol, like spokes to the hub of a
vast wheel, he saw that immense, classic building shining above the
city in the sky. In splendid and austere whiteness the Capitol rises
terrace upon terrace above the trees, its columns, its cornices and its
dome blanched in the cold radiance of scores of arc lights hidden among
the trees.
Like fireflies attracted to this centre of light, cars moved their
sparkling points of brightness down the vivid avenues, and at the
vestibule of the Library, which lies in the grounds apart from the
Capitol, set down fit denizens for this kingdom of radiance.
Senators and parliamentarians generally are sober entities, but wives
and daughters made up for them in colour and in comeliness. In cloth
of gold, in brocades, in glowing satin and flashing silk,
multi-coloured and ever-shifting, a stream of jewelled vivacity pressed
up the severe white marble stairs in the severe white marble hall.
There could not have been a better background for such a shining and
pulsating mass of living colour. There was no distraction from that
warm beauty of moving humanity; the flowers, too, were severe, severe
and white; great masses of white chrysanthemums were all that was
needed, were all that was there.
And at the head of the staircase a genius in design had made one stroke
of colour, one stroke of astounding and poignant scarlet. On this
scarlet carpet the Prince in evening dress stood and encountered the
tide of guests that came up to him, were received by him, and flowed
away from him in a thousand particles and drops of colour, as women,
with all the vivacity of their clothes in their manner, and men in
uniforms or evening dress, striving to keep pace with them, went
drifting through the high, clear purity of the austere corridors.
It was a scene of infinite charm. It was a scene of infinite
significance, also. For close to the Prince as he stood and received
the men and women of America, were many original documents dealing with
the separation of England and the American colonies. There was much in
the fact that a Prince of England should be receiving the descendants
of those colonies in such surroundings, and meeting those descendants
with a friendliness and frankness which equalled their own frank
friendliness.
III
Thursday, November 14th, was a day of extreme interest for the Prince.
It was the day when he visited the home of the first President of
America, and also visited, in his home, the President in power today.
The morning was given over to an investiture of the American officers
and nurses who had won British honours during the war. It was held at
Belmont House, and was a ceremony full of colour. Members of all the
diplomatic corps in Washington in their various uniforms attended, and
these were grouped in the beautiful ballroom full of splendid pictures
and wonderful china. The simplicity of the investiture itself stood
out against the colourful setting as generals in khaki, admirals in
blue, the rank and file of both services, and the neat and picturesque
Red Cross nurses came quietly across the polished floor to receive
their decorations and a comradely hand-clasp from the Prince.
It was after lunch that the Prince motored out to Mount Vernon, the
home and burial-place of Washington, to pay his tribute to the great
leader of the first days of America. It is a serene and beautiful old
house, built in the colonial style, with a pillared verandah along its
front. The visit here was of the simplest kind.
At the modest tomb of the great general and statesman, which is near
the house, the Prince in silence deposited a wreath, and a little
distance away he also planted a cedar to commemorate his visit. He
showed his usual keen curiosity in the house, whose homely rooms of
mellow colonial furniture seemed as though they might be filled at any
moment with gentlemen in hessians and brave coats, whose hair was in
queues and whose accents would be loud and rich in condemnation of the
interference of the Court Circle overseas.
Showing interest in the historic details of the house, the picture of
his grandfather abruptly filled him with anxiety. He looked at the
picture and asked if "Baron Renfrew" (King Edward) had worn a top hat
on _his_ visit, and from his nervousness it seemed that he felt that
his own soft felt hat was not quite the thing. He was reassured,
however, on this point, for democracy has altered many things since the
old days, including hats.
Both on his way out, and his return journey, the Prince was the object
of enthusiasm from small groups who recognized him, most of whom had
trusted to luck or their intuition for their chance of seeing him.
About the entrance of the White House, to which he drove, there was a
small and ardent crowd, which cheered him when he swept through the
gates with his motor-cycle escort, and bought photographs of him from
hawkers when he had passed. The hawker, in fact, did a brisk trade.
There had been much speculation whether His Royal Highness would be
able to see President Wilson at all, for he was yet confined to his
bed. The doctors decided for it, and there was a very pleasant meeting
which seems to have helped the President to renew his good spirits in
the youthful charm of his visitor.
After taking tea with Mrs. Wilson, His Royal Highness went up to the
room of the President on the second floor, and Mr. Wilson, propped up
in bed, received him. The friendship that had begun in England was
quickly renewed, and soon both were laughing over the Prince's
experiences on his tour and "swopping" impressions.
Mr. Wilson's instinctive vein of humour came back to him under the
pleasure of the reunion, and he pointed out to the Prince that if he
was ill in bed, he had taken the trouble to be ill in a bed of some
celebrity. It was a bed that made sickness auspicious. King Edward
had used it when he had stayed at the White House as "Baron Renfrew,"
and President Lincoln had also slept on it during his term of office,
which perhaps accounted for its massive and rugged utility.
The visit was certainly a most attractive one for the President, and
had an excellent effect; his physician reported the next morning that
Mr. Wilson's spirits had risen greatly, and that as a result of the
enjoyable twenty minutes he had spent with the Prince. On Friday,
November 15th, the Prince went to the United States Naval College at
Annapolis, a place set amid delightful surroundings. He inspected the
whole of the Academy, and was immensely impressed by the smartness of
the students, who, themselves, marked the occasion by treating him to
authentic college yells on his departure.
The week-end was spent quietly at the beautiful holiday centre of
Sulphur Springs. It was a visit devoted to privacy and golf.
IV
During our stay in Washington the air was thick with politics, for it
was the week in which the Senate were dealing with Clause Ten of the
Peace Treaty. The whole of Washington, and, in fact, the whole of
America, was tingling with politics, and we could not help being
affected by the current emotion.
I am not going to attempt to discuss American politics, but I will say
that it seemed to me that politics enter more personally into the life
of Americans than with the British, and that they feel them more
intensely. At the same time I had a definite impression that American
politics have a different construction to ours. The Americans speak of
"The Political Game," and I had the feeling that it was a game played
with a virtuosity of tactics and with a metallic intensity, and the
principle of the game was to beat the other fellows. So much so that
the aim and end of politics were obscured, and that the battle was
fought not about measures but on the advantages one party would gain
over another by victory.
That is, the "Political Game" is a game of the "Ins" and "Outs" played
for parliamentary success with the habitual keenness and zest of the
American.
This is not a judgment but an impression. I do not pretend to know
anything of America. I do not think any one can know America well
unless he is an American. Those who think that America quickly yields
its secrets to the British mind simply because America speaks the
English language need the instruction of a visit to America.
America has all the individuality and character of a separate and
distinct State. To think that the United States is a sort of
Transatlantic Britain is simply to approach the United States with a
set of preconceived notions that are bound to suffer considerable
jarring. Both races have many things in common, that is obvious from
the fact of a common language, and, in a measure, from a common
descent; but they have things that are not held in common. It needs a
closer student of America than I am to go into this; I merely give my
own impression, and perhaps a superficial one at that. It may offer a
point of elucidation to those people who find themselves shocked
because English-speaking America sometimes does not act in an English
manner, or respond to English acts.
America is America first and all the time; it is as complete and as
definite in its spirits as the oldest of nations, and in its own way.
Its patriotism is intense, more intense than British patriotism (though
not more real), because by nature the American is more intense. The
vivid love of Americans for America is the same type of passion that
the Frenchman has for France.
The character of the American, as I encountered him in Washington,
Detroit, and New York--a very limited orbit--suggested differences from
the character of the Englishman. The American, as I see him, is more
simple, more puritan, and more direct than the Briton. His generosity
is a most astonishing thing. He is, as far as I can see, a genuine
lover of his brother-man, not theoretically but actively, for he is
anxious to get into contact, to "mix," to make the most of even a
chance acquaintance. Simply and directly he exposes the whole of
himself, says what he means and withholds nothing, so that acquaintance
should be made on an equitable and genuine basis. To the more
conservative Briton this is alarming; brought up in a land of
reticences, the Briton wonders what the American is "getting at," what
does he want? What is his game? The American on his side is baffled
by the British habit of keeping things back, and he, too, perhaps
wonders why this fellow is going slow with me? Doesn't he want to be
friends?
Personally, I think that the directness and simplicity of the Americans
is the directness and simplicity of the artist, the man who has no use
for unessentials. And one gets this sense of artistry in an American's
business dealings. He goes directly at his object, and he goes with a
concentrated power and a zest that is exhilarating. Here, too, he
exposes his hand in a way bewildering to the Britisher, who sometimes
finds the American so candid in his transactions that he becomes
suspicious of there being something more behind it.
To the American work is something zestful, joyous. He likes to get
things done; he likes to do big things with a big gesture--sometimes to
the damage of detail, which he has overlooked--for him work is
craftsmanship, a thing to be carried through with the delight of a
craftsman. He is, in fact, the artist as business man.
Like all artists he has an air of hardness, the ruthlessness to attain
an end. But like all artists he is quick and generous, vivid in
enthusiasm and hard to daunt. Like the artist he is narrow in his
point of view at times and decisive in opinion--simply because his own
point of vision is all-absorbing.
This, for example, is apparent in his democracy, which is
extraordinarily wide in certain respects, and singularly restricted in
others--an example of this is the way the Americans handle offenders
against their code; whether they be I.W.W., strikers or the like, their
attitude is infinitely more ruthless than the British attitude.
Another example is, having so splendid a freedom, they allow themselves
to be "bossed" by policemen, porters and a score of others who exert an
authority so drastic on occasions that no Briton would stand it.
But over all I was struck by the vividity of the Americans I met.
Business men, journalists, writers, store girls, clerks, clubmen,
railway men--all of them had an air of passionate aliveness, an
intellectual avidity that made contact with them an affair of
delightful excitement.