THE FLOURISHING OF COATS-OF-ARMS IN AMERICA--REFLECTIONS THEREON--
FOREFATHERS MADE TO ORDER--THE PHONOGRAPH AT HOME--THE WEALTH OF NEW
YORK--DEPARTURE FOR BUFFALO.
_New York, January 11._
There are in America, as in many other countries of the world, people
who have coats-of-arms, and whose ancestors had no arms to their coats.
This remark was suggested by the reading of the following paragraph in
the New York _World_ this morning:
There is growing in this country the rotten influence of rank, pride
of station, contempt for labor, scorn of poverty, worship of caste,
such as we verily believe is growing in no country in the world. What
are the ideals that fill so large a part of the day and generation?
For the boy it is riches; for the girl the marrying of a title. The
ideal of this time in America is vast riches and the trappings of
rank. It is good that proper scorn should be expressed of such ideals.
American novelists, journalists, and preachers are constantly upbraiding
and ridiculing their countrywomen for their love of titled foreigners;
but the society women of the great Republic only love the foreign lords
all the more; and I have heard some of them openly express their
contempt of a form of government whose motto is one of the clauses of
the great Declaration of Independence: "All men are created equal." I
really believe that if the society women of America had their own way,
they would set up a monarchy to-morrow, in the hope of seeing an
aristocracy established as the sequel of it.
[Illustration: A TITLE.]
President Garfield once said that the only real coats-of-arms in America
were shirt-sleeves. The epigram is good, but not based on truth, as
every epigram should be. Labor in the States is not honorable for its
own sake, but only if it brings wealth. President Garfield's epigram
"fetched" the crowd, no doubt, as any smart democratic or humanitarian
utterance will anywhere, whether it be emitted from the platform, the
stage, the pulpit, or the hustings; but if any American philosopher
heard it, he must have smiled.
A New York friend who called on me this morning, and with whom I had a
chat on this subject, assured me that there is now such a demand in the
States for pedigrees, heraldic insignia, mottoes, and coronets, that it
has created a new industry. He also informed me that almost every
American city has a college of heraldry, which will provide unbroken
lines of ancestors, and make to order a new line of forefathers "of the
most approved pattern, with suitable arms, etc."
Addison's prosperous foundling, who ordered at the second-hand
picture-dealer's "a complete set of ancestors," is, according to my
friend, a typical personage to be met with in the States nowadays.
* * * * *
Bah! after all, every country has her snobs. Why should America be an
exception to the rule? When I think of the numberless charming people I
have met in this country, I may as well leave it to the Europeans who
have come in contact with American snobs to speak about them, inasmuch
as the subject is not particularly entertaining.
What amuses me much more here is the effect of democracy on what we
Europeans would call the lower classes.
A few days ago, in a hotel, I asked a porter if my trunk had arrived
from the station and had been taken to my room.
"I don't know," he said majestically; "you ask that gentleman."
The gentleman pointed out to me was the negro who looks after the
luggage in the establishment.
In the papers you may read in the advertisement columns: "Washing wanted
by a lady at such and such address."
[Illustration: THE NEW YORK CABMAN.]
The cabman will ask, "If you are the _man_ as wants a _gentleman_ to
drive him to the _deepo_."
During an inquiry concerning the work-house at Cambridge, Mass., a
witness spoke of the "ladies' cells," as being all that should be
desired.
Democracy, such is thy handiwork!
* * * * *
I went to the Stock Exchange in Wall Street at one o'clock. I thought
that Whitechapel, on Saturday night, was beyond competition as a scene
of rowdyism. I have now altered this opinion. I am still wondering
whether I was not guyed by my pilot, and whether I was not shown the
playground of a madhouse, at the time when all the most desperate
lunatics are let loose.
After lunch I went to Falk's photograph studio to be taken, and read the
first page of "Jonathan and His Continent," into his phonograph.
Marvelous, this phonograph! I imagine Mr. Falk has the best collection
of cylinders in the world. I heard a song by Patti, the piano played by
Von Buelow, speeches, orchestras, and what not! The music is reproduced
most faithfully. With the voice the instrument is not quite so
successful. Instead of your own voice, you fancy you hear an imitation
of it by Punch. All the same, it seems to me to be the wonder of the
age.
After paying a few calls, and dining quietly at the Everett House, I
went to the Metropolitan Opera House, and saw "The Barber of Bagdad."
Cornelius's music is Wagnerian in aim, but I did not carry away with me
a single bar of all I heard. After all, this is perhaps the aim of
Wagnerian music.
What a sight is the Metropolitan Opera House, with its boxes full of
lovely women, arrayed in gorgeous garments, and blazing with diamonds!
What luxury! What wealth is gathered there!
How interesting it would be to know the exact amount of wealth of which
New York can boast! In this morning's papers I read that land on Fifth
Avenue has lately sold for $115 a square foot. In an acre of land there
are 43,560 square feet, which at $115 a foot would be $5,009,400 an
acre. Just oblige me by thinking of it!
* * * * *
_January 12._
Went to the Catholic Cathedral at eleven. A mass by Haydn was splendidly
rendered by full orchestra and admirable chorus. The altar was a blaze
of candles. The yellow of the lights and the plain mauve of two
windows, one on each side of the candles, gave a most beautiful
crocus-bed effect. I enjoyed the service.
In the evening I dined with Mr. Lloyd Bryce, editor of the _North
American Review_, at the splendid residence of his father-in-law, Mr.
Cooper, late Mayor of New York. Mrs. Lloyd Bryce is one of the
handsomest American women I have met, and a most charming and graceful
hostess. I reluctantly left early so as to prepare for my night journey
to Buffalo.
[Illustration]