[Speech of Charles G. Leland at a dinner given in his honor by the Lotos
Club, New York, January 31, 1880. Mr. Leland had just returned from a
sojourn of eleven years abroad. Whitelaw Reid, the President of the
Club, introduced Mr. Leland, and said in part: "Well, his long exile
is over. With a true Philadelphian's fear of envious and jealous New
York, he stayed abroad till they started a Pennsylvania line of
steamers for him, and so smuggled him past Manhattan Island and into
the Quaker City direct. Captured as he is to-night, I will not abuse
his modesty by eulogy, yet this much I venture to say, and it is the
eulogy the true humorist and the true man of letters will most highly
prize. He deserves all the grateful honor we can pay him because he
has made substantial additions to the sum of human enjoyment in the
world. I give you the health of Mr. Leland, and with it our best
wishes for his long life and prosperity to the end."]
MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN:--I have been asked several times
since my return what struck me most, after an eleven years' absence, and
I should say it is the fact that I am remembered. It has never struck me
so forcibly as this evening. I have been for eleven years over the sea;
I have returned like the proverbial story, somewhat worn, perhaps, but
still accepted, and I am very much gratified that it is so. Time passes
so rapidly, and especially here in New York, that to be remembered after
so long an absence is especially gratifying.
I met in Europe a Mr. Boyd, whose family two centuries before had
resided in Ireland. Mr. Boyd thought one day that he would go back and
visit his relatives, and so he went back and met with an Irish cousin.
"Ah, Cousin Boyd," said his relative, "I am glad to see you, and though
you have not been here for more than two hundred years, still I can
easily trace the illegant resemblance." [Laughter.] Gentlemen, you seem
inclined to trace the resemblance. I am still known, and that has
touched me more than anything.
But I am not altogether so great a stranger to New York. To be sure, I
was born in Philadelphia; that cannot be denied; but I have also lived
in New York. I was a long time in New York, and, indeed, was a
freeholder of the city. I once owned a piece of property here, on which
a Dutchman planted his cabbages but never paid any rent--and I never
asked him for any; finally I gave a man eighty dollars to take the
property off my hands altogether. I also voted in New York; and in this
I fared better than in freeholding, for I voted for Abraham Lincoln at
his first election. [Applause.]
I have also been a business man in New York. I started "Vanity Fair,"
with Charles Browne [Artemus Ward] as an assistant, and I remember how I
used to suggest the subjects to him, and how he used to write out the
series of articles which have since become so widely known. The "Revue
des Deux Mondes" recently gave a detailed account of the manner in
which I brought out Artemus Ward, in which by far too much credit was
given to me and too little to him. But this was all done in New York,
and you will give me some credit for having aided such a man as Artemus
Ward. But I am growing gossipy. I say all this, however, just to show
that I have some claim to call myself a New Yorker. I was here for a
long time, and here some of my best work was done. But what can I say to
thank you for the kind manner in which you have received me?
Before I left London a gentleman said to me: "The two greatest honors of
your country are to get a degree from Harvard, and to be a guest of the
Lotos Club;" for you must know that they talk a great deal about you.
[Laughter.] This was said to me by an English gentleman of letters, for,
as I said, you are extremely well known over there, and your hospitality
is so celebrated that to have received the stamp of it is to be
distinguished.
I said it was very strange, but the last thing that happened to me
before leaving America was to receive the degree of A. M. from
Cambridge, but I did not venture to aspire to the other one. And now the
first thing that happens to me on my return is to receive your
invitation. Gentlemen, ambition can no further go. [Laughter.] As Horace
says, a man may change his skies, but not his disposition, and I wish to
show you that I have not forgotten my manners while abroad; and, in this
connection, that a good speech should have a short answer. A very
excellent speech preceded mine. I have made my answer altogether too
long. Thanking you from my heart, for your courteous kindness, I now take
my seat. [Applause.]