DETROIT--THE TOWN--THE DETROIT "FREE PRESS"--A LADY INTERVIEWER--THE
"UNCO GUID" IN DETROIT--REFLECTIONS ON THE ANGLO-SAXON "UNCO GUID."
_Detroit, February 22._
Am delighted with Detroit. It possesses beautiful streets, avenues, and
walks, and a fine square in the middle of which stands a remarkably fine
monument. I am also grateful to this city for breaking the monotony of
the eternal parallelograms with which the whole of the United States are
built. My national vanity almost suggests to me that this town owes its
gracefulness to its French origin. There are still, I am told, about
25,000 French people settled in Detroit.
I have had to-night, in the Church of Our Father, a crowded and most
brilliant audience, whose keenness, intelligence, and kindness were very
flattering.
I was interviewed, both by a lady and a gentleman, for the Detroit _Free
Press_, that most witty of American newspapers. The charming young lady
interviewer came to talk on social topics, I remarked that she was armed
with a copy of "Jonathan and his Continent," and I came to the
conclusion that she would probably ask for a few explanations about that
book. I was not mistaken. She took exception, she informed me, to many
statements concerning the American girl in the book. I made a point to
prove to her that all was right, and all was truth, and I think I
persuaded her to abandon the prosecution.
[Illustration: THE LADY INTERVIEWER.]
To tell the truth, now the real truth, mind you, I am rather tired of
hearing about the American girl. The more I see of her the more I am
getting convinced that she is--like the other girls in the world.
* * * * *
A friend, who came to have a chat with me after this lecture, has told
me that the influential people of the city are signing a petition to the
custodians of the museum calling upon them to drape all the nude
statues, and intimating their intention of boycotting the institution,
if the Venuses and Apollos are not forthwith provided with tuckers and
togas.
It is a well-known fact in the history of the world, that young
communities have no taste for fine art--they have no time to cultivate
it. If I had gone to Oklahoma, I should not have expected to find any
art feeling at all; but that in a city like Detroit, where there is such
evidence of intellectual life and high culture among the inhabitants, a
party should be found numerous and strong enough to issue such a heathen
dictate as this seems scarcely credible. I am inclined to think it must
be a joke. That the "unco guid" should flourish under the gloomy sky of
Great Britain I understand, but under the bright blue sky of America, in
that bracing atmosphere, I cannot.
It is most curious that there should be people who, when confronted
with some glorious masterpiece of sculpture, should not see the poetry,
the beauty of the human form divine. This is beyond me, and beyond any
educated Frenchman.
[Illustration: THE DRAPED STATUES.]
Does the "unco guid" exist in America, then? I should have thought that
these people, of the earth earthy, were not found out of England and
Scotland.
When I was in America two years ago, I heard that an English author of
some repute, talking one day with Mr. Richard Watson Gilder about the
Venus of Milo, had remarked that, as he looked at her beautiful form, he
longed to put his arms around her and kiss her. Mr. Gilder, who, as a
poet, as an artist, has felt only respect mingled with his admiration of
the matchless divinity, replied: "I hope she would have grown a pair of
arms for the occasion, so as to have slapped your face."
It is not so much the thing that offends the "unco guid"; it is the
name, the reflection, the idea. Unhealthy-minded himself, he dreads a
taint where there is none, and imagines in others a corruption which
exists only in himself.
Yet the One, whom he would fain call Master, but whose teachings he is
slow in following, said: "Woe be to them by whom offense cometh." But
the "unco guid" is a Christian failure, a _parvenu_.
* * * * *
The _parvenu_ is a person who makes strenuous efforts to persuade other
people that he is entitled to the position he occupies.
There are _parvenus_ in religion, as there are _parvenus_ in the
aristocracy, in society, in literature, in the fine arts, etc.
The worst type of the French _parvenu_ is the one whose father was a
worthy, hard-working man called _Dubois_ or _Dumont_, and who, at his
father's death, dubs himself _du Bois_ or _du Mont_, becomes a
clericalist and the stanchest monarchist, and runs down the great
Revolution which made one of his grand-parents a man. M. _du Bois_ or
_du Mont_ outdoes the genuine nobleman, who needs make no noise to
attract attention to a name which everybody knows, and which, in spite
of what may be said on the subject, often recalls the memory of some
glorious event in the past.
[Illustration: THE PARVENU.]
The worst type of Anglo-Saxon _parvenu_ is probably the "unco guid," or
religious _parvenu_.
The Anglo-Saxon "unco guid" is seldom to be found among Roman Catholics;
that is, among the followers of the most ancient Christian religion. He
is to be found among the followers of the newest forms of
"Christianity." This is quite natural. He has to try to eclipse his
fellow-Christians by his piety, in order to show that the new religion
to which he belongs was a necessary invention.
The Anglo-Saxon "unco guid" is easily recognized. He is dark (all bigots
and fanatics are). He is dressed in black, shiny broadcloth raiment. A
wide-brimmed felt hat covers his head. He walks with light, short,
jaunty steps, his head a little inclined on one side. He never carries a
stick, which might give a rather fast appearance to his turn-out. He
invariably carries an umbrella, even in the brightest weather, as being
more respectable--and this umbrella he never rolls, for he would avoid
looking in the distance as if he had a stick. He casts right and left
little grimaces that are so many forced smiles of self-satisfaction.
"Try to be as good as I am," he seems to say to all who happen to look
at him, "and you will be as happy." And he "smiles, and smiles, and
smiles."
He has a small soul, a small heart, and a small brain.
As a rule, he is a well-to-do person. It pays better to have a narrow
mind than to have broad sympathies.
He drinks tea, but prefers cocoa, as being a more virtuous beverage.
He is perfectly destitute of humor, and is the most inartistic creature
in the world. Everything suggests to him either profanity or indecency.
The "Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character," by Dean Ramsay,
would strike him as profane, and if placed in the Musee du Louvre,
before the Venus of Milo, he would see nothing but a woman who has next
to no clothes on.
His distorted mind makes him take everything in ill part. His hands get
pricked on every thorn that he comes across on the road, and he misses
all the roses.
If I were not a Christian, the following story, which is not as often
told as it should be, would have converted me long ago:
Jesus arrived one evening at the gates of a certain city, and he sent
his disciples forward to prepare supper, while he himself, intent on
doing good, walked through the streets into the marketplace. And he
saw at the corner of the market some people gathered together, looking
at an object on the ground; and he drew near to see what it might be.
It was a dead dog, with a halter round his neck, by which he appeared
to have been dragged through the dirt; and a viler, a more abject, a
more unclean thing, never met the eyes of man. And those who stood by
looked on with abhorrence. "Faugh!" said one, stopping his nose, "it
pollutes the air." "How long," said another, "shall this foul beast
offend our sight?" "Look at his torn hide," said a third; "one could
not even cut a shoe out of it!" "And his ears," said a fourth, "all
draggled and bleeding!" "No doubt," said a fifth, "he has been hanged
for thieving!" And Jesus heard them, and looking down compassionately
on the dead creature, he said: "Pearls are not equal to the whiteness
of his teeth!"
If I understand the Gospel, the gist of its teachings is contained in
the foregoing little story. Love and forgiveness: finding something to
pity and admire even in a dead dog. Such is the religion of Christ.
The "Christianity" of the "unco guid" is as like this religion as are
the teachings of the Old Testament.
Something to condemn, the discovery of wickedness in the most innocent,
and often elevating, recreations, such is the favorite occupation of the
Anglo-Saxon "unco guid." Music is licentious, laughter wicked, dancing
immoral, statuary almost criminal, and, by and by, the "Society for the
Suggestion of Indecency," which is placed under his immediate patronage
and supervision, will find fault with our going out in the streets, on
the plea that under our garments we carry our nudity.
The Anglo-Saxon "unco guid" is the successor of the Pharisee. In reading
Christ's description of the latter, you are immediately struck with the
likeness. The modern "unco guid" "loves to pray standing in the churches
and chapels and in the corners of the streets, that he may be seen of
men." "He uses vain repetitions, for he thinks that he shall be heard
for his much speaking." "When he fasts, he is of sad countenance; for he
disfigures his face, that he may appear unto men to fast." There is not
one feature of the portrait that does not fit in exactly.
The Jewish "unco guid" crucified Christ. The Anglo-Saxon one would
crucify Him again if He should return to earth and interfere with the
prosperous business firms that make use of His name.
The "unco guid's" Christianity consists in extolling his virtues and
ignoring other people's. He spends his time in "pulling motes out of
people's eyes," but cannot see clearly to do it, "owing to the beams
that are in his own." He overwhelms you, he crushes you, with his
virtue, and one of the greatest treats is to catch him tripping, a
chance which you may occasionally have, especially when you meet him on
the Continent of Europe.
The Anglo-Saxon "unco guid" calls himself a Christian, but the precepts
of the Gospel are the very opposite of those he practices. The gentle,
merciful, forgiving, Man-God of the Gospel has not for him the charms
and attractions of the Jehovah who commanded the cowardly, ungrateful,
and bloodthirsty people of his choice to treat their women as slaves,
and to exterminate their enemies, sparing neither old men, women, nor
children. This cruel, revengeful, implacable deity is far more to the
Anglo-Saxon "unco guid's" liking than the Saviour who bade His disciples
love their enemies and put up their swords in the presence of his
persecutors. The "unco guid" is not a Christian, he is a Jew in all but
name. And I will say this much for him, that the Commandments given on
Mount Sinai are much easier to follow than the Sermon on the Mount. It
is easier not to commit murder than to hold out your right cheek after
your left one has been slapped. It is easier not to steal than to run
after the man who has robbed us, in order to offer him what he has not
taken. It is easier to honor our parents than to love our enemies.
The teachings of the Gospel are trying to human nature. There is no
religion more difficult to follow; and this is why, in spite of its
beautiful, but too lofty, precepts, there is no religion in the world
that can boast so many hypocrites--so many followers who pretend that
they follow their religion, but who do not, and very probably cannot.
Being unable to love man, as he is bidden in the Gospel, the "unco guid"
loves God, as he is bidden in the Old Testament. He loves God in the
abstract. He tells Him so in endless prayers and litanies.
For him Christianity consists in discussing theological questions,
whether a minister shall preach with or without a white surplice on, and
in singing hymns more or less out of tune.
As if God could be loved to the exclusion of man! You love God, after
all, as you love anybody else, not by professions of love, but by deeds.
When he prays, the "unco guid" buries his face in his hands or in his
hat. He screws up his face, and the more fervent the prayer is (or the
more people are looking at him), the more grimaces he makes. Heinrich
Heine, on coming out of an English church, said that "a blaspheming
Frenchman must be a more pleasing object in the sight of God than many a
praying Englishman." He had, no doubt, been looking at the "unco guid."
If you do not hold the same religious views as he does, you are a wicked
man, an atheist. He alone has the truth. Being engaged in a discussion
with an "unco guid" one day, I told him that if God had given me hands
to handle, surely He had given me a little brain to think. "You are
right," he quickly interrupted; "but, with the hands that God gave you
you can commit a good action, and you can also commit murder."
Therefore, because I did not think as he did, I was the criminal, for,
of course, he was the righteous man. For all those who, like myself,
believe in a future life, there is, I believe, a great treat in store:
the sight of the face he will make, when his place is assigned to him in
the next world. _Qui mourra, verra._
Anglo-Saxon land is governed by the "unco guid." Good society cordially
despises him; the aristocracy of Anglo-Saxon intelligence--philosophers,
scientists, men of letters, artists--simply loathe him; but all have to
bow to his rule, and submit their works to his most incompetent
criticism, and all are afraid of him.
[Illustration: THE POOR MAN'S SABBATH.]
In a moment of wounded national pride, Sydney Smith once exclaimed:
"What a pity it is we have no amusements in England except vice and
religion!" The same exclamation might be uttered to-day, and the cause
laid at the Anglo-Saxon "unco guid's" door. It is he who is responsible
for the degradation of the British lower classes, by refusing to enable
them to elevate their minds on Sundays at the sight of the masterpieces
of art which are contained in the museums, or at the sound of the
symphonies of Beethoven and Mozart, which might be given to the people
at reduced prices on that day. The poor people must choose between vice
and religion, and as the wretches know they are not wanted in the
churches, they go to the taverns.
It is this same "unco guid" who is responsible for the state of the
streets in the large cities of Great Britain by refusing to allow vice
to be regulated. If you were to add the amount of immorality to be found
in the streets of Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and the other capitals of
Europe, no fair-minded Englishman "who knows" would contradict me, if I
said that the total thus obtained would be much below the amount
supplied by London alone; but the "unco guid" stays at home of an
evening, advises you to do the same, and ignoring, or pretending to
ignore, what is going on round his own house, he prays for the
conversion--of the French.
The "unco guid" thinks that his own future safety is assured, so he
prays for his neighbors'. He reminds one of certain Scots, who inhabit
two small islands on the west coast of Scotland. Their piety is really
most touching. Every Sunday in their churches, they commend to God's
care "the puir inhabitants of the two adjacent islands of Britain and
Ireland."
A few weeks ago, there appeared in a Liverpool paper a letter, signed "A
Lover of Reverence," in which this anonymous person complained of a
certain lecturer, who had indulged in profane remarks. "I was not
present myself," he or she said, "but have heard of what took place,"
etc. You see, this person was not present, but as a good "Christian," he
hastened to judge. However, this is nothing. In the letter, I read:
"Fortunately, there are in Liverpool, a few Christians, like myself,
always on the watch, and ever looking after our Maker's honor."
Fortunate Liverpool! What a proud position for the Almighty, to be
placed in Liverpool under the protection of the "Lover of Reverence!"
Probably this "unco guid" and myself would not agree on the definition
of the word _profanity_, for, if I had written and published such a
letter, I would consider myself guilty, not only of profanity, but of
blasphemy.
If the "unco guid" is the best product of Christianity, Christianity
must be pronounced a ghastly failure, and I should feel inclined to
exclaim, with the late Dean Milman, "If all this is Christianity, it is
high time we should try something else--say the religion of Christ, for
instance."
[Illustration]