In October, 1897, by telegrams from my friends, Nathaniel McKay and Dr.
Purvis, of Washington, D. C., I was informed that I had been appointed
United States Consul for the island of Madagascar.
It was a surprise; for, while truth compels the admission that I was not
averse to "being taken in and done for," Madagascar had not come within
my purview; its distance had not "lent enchantment to the view." I gave
it some thought, but could not perceive that I had been so annoyingly
persistent to merit a response from the President, not unlike that given
by Mr. Blaine to one Mr. Tite Barnacle, who was willing to compromise on
a foreign appointment. "Certainly," was the reply; the "foreigner the
better." I concluded, however, that the bard may have been right when he
wrote "There is a destiny that shapes our ends," for it often happens
that what a man desires is just what he ought not to have; and whether
what he gets is to be beneficial depends largely upon its use.
I was summoned to Washington, and after a conference received my
commission, returned to Little Rock to prepare for departure to my post,
"10,000 miles away."
I received a warm greeting and a "jolly send-off" at a banquet given me
on Christmas eve by many friends. To name a few of the devoted would be
invidious to the many. It will suffice to say I felt grateful and
touched by the many expressions, which added testimony to their valued
appreciation. Arriving at New York I was met by Mr. W. H. Hunt, who had
applied and been highly commended for the position of clerk to the
consulate, and who, after a year's faithful service, in pursuance of my
recommendation, was appointed Vice-Consul, and is now Consul.
This, my appointment as Consul to Tamatave, severs a decade's connection
as "Secretary of the Republican State Central Committee," and especially
with its Chairman, Mr. Henry Cooper, who, indefatigable as a worker,
genial, but positive in his convictions, has managed the machinery of
the party with but little friction. The remembrance of the partiality,
honors and kindness of which I have been a recipient from members of the
party, irrespective of "race or previous condition," will be ever bright
and cheery.
On January, 1, 1898, we embarked on the French steamship Champagne, and
arrived at Havre on the 9th, and took train for Paris. The cars either
for comfort or retirement in no way equal ours, eight in a compartment,
sitting omnibus fashion, face to face. We rolled on to the Capital,
passing many fine villas, the product of French architecture.
Everywhere one is impressed with the national peculiarities--the houses,
the streets, modes of conveyance and transportation. Compactness,
neatness, order and precision pervades their every undertaking; but for
celerity and despatch of business they were painful to encounter or
behold, for it ill accords with the American mode. A ride of four hours
and we reach Paris. At the depot the baggage is placed on long tables
awaiting examination by custom-house officers. Mine was passed without.
Took cab for "Hotel de Binda," exquisitely furnished and centrally
located, having easy access to places of note.
This being the most disagreeable time of year, a fire in the rooms was
necessary, for outside everywhere was a damp, penetrating air, remaining
here 15 days with the sight of the sun but once.
The next day after my arrival I called on the American Ambassador, Mr.
Porter, in relation to my exequator, to be issued by the French
Government. It is a recognition of status, and a formal permit from one
nation to another to allow their respective Consuls to exercise the
duties appertaining thereto and a guarantee of protection in their
performance. Had a very cordial reception from Mr. J. R. Gowdy, our
Consul at Paris. Visited the Paris office of the New York Herald, where
many files of American and European papers can be perused. A visit to
the "Louvre" is a joy for the layman, as for the connoisseur, galleries
a mile or more in length hung with paintings grand in imagery and beauty
of old masters, French and Italian, centuries old. Many showed the
silent, slow and impressive steps of age. But "you may break, you may
scatter the vase if you will, the scent of the roses will linger there
still," for on shrunken canvas or from luster dimmed was imperial tone
of materialized conception "not born to die."
Among the guests of the hotel were two gentlemen, one an American
capitalist, the other a German merchant from Berlin, the latter speaking
French like a native. We became pleasant companions, and concluded on
Sunday evening to go to the "Follies Bergere"--in American parlance a
variety theater.
Ten minutes' drive brought us to a very large building, lighted as if by
sunlight, where a hundred finely-dressed men and women crowded for
entrance. Outside of what we term pit and dress circle is a partition,
three or four feet high, dividing them from a promenade ten or fifteen
feet wide. You can stand or sit in this promenade, and see the
performance. Our friends suggested this plan, as we could see and hear
more of Parisian peculiarities. Here many very beautiful women
promenaded. They had evidently been touched by artists, for their
make-up was superb. But I could not but think of the refrain of a song
we have all heard, "Oh, but what a difference in the morning." They had
sweet, pretty sayings, clothed in all the softness of modulation and
earnestness of gesture of the French people. My American friend, like
myself, was Frenchless, and as a consequence invulnerable. The
appearance of the occupants of the front row of seats very forcibly
reminded me of a similar locality at the Capital Theater in the City of
Roses, on similar occasions, where many of my old friends with gaze
intent loved to congregate. The performance was spectacular and
acrobatic, with usual evolutions, with more "abandon" and very artistic.
Passing through the cafe, where hundreds of finely-dressed men and women
were sitting at tables quietly talking, smoking and drinking wine or
coffee, we passed to the street.
There is much to delight in a walk through the Tulleries and "Palace de
la Concord." These public squares have an acreage of several hundred,
and are adorned with flowing fountains and marvelous statuary. Passing
through the Tulleries brings you to the "Dome de Invalids," in which is
Napoleon's tomb. The building and dome is of the most exquisite
architecture. Upon entry everywhere your gaze is confronted by stately
columns of Italian marble arches, statuary, flags of many varieties,
captured by Napoleon from his enemies on many battlefields, besides
other trophies of war.
As you look down a circular pit twenty feet deep and forty feet wide,
enclosed by a balustrade of Italian marble, you see the sarcophagus, in
which is inclosed all that was mortal of the great Napoleon. The mosaic
pavement at the bottom of the pit represents a wreath of laurels; on it
rests the sarcophagus, consisting of a single block, highly polished, of
reddish brown granite, fourteen feet high, thirteen long and seven wide,
brought from Finland at a cost of $25,000. Above rises a lofty dome 160
feet high, divided into two sections, one of twelve compartments, each
containing a figure of one of the twelve apostles; the other
representing St. Louis offering to Christ the sword with which to
vanquish his enemies.
While in Paris I visited Mrs. Mason, widow of James Mason, deceased. Mr.
Mason was formerly a member of the Arkansas Senate and Sheriff of Chicot
County. It will be remembered by old residents that the death of Mason's
father, an old bachelor and rich planter, who died intestate, caused a
suit at law of great interest and importance. It was an exciting trial,
as many thousands of dollars were at stake in the issue. The fatherly
care he had ever evinced for the education of his children (James having
been educated in France and Martha at a Northern college); the
solicitude and unfailing recognition, the many instances of which he had
designated them as direct heirs, and other evidence, collateral and
convincing, were availing. They received a jury award.
[Illustration: HON. JOHN C. DANCY,
Recorder of Deeds for District of Columbia.
Born at Torboro, S. C., May, 1857--Entered Howard University--Elected
Recorder of Deeds of Edgecombe County, S. C., in 1880 and 1882--Late
Collector of the Port at Willmington, S. C.--Christian and Progressive
in the Church--Eminent and Eloquent in the State.]
An appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States was taken, which
dragged its weary way for a number of years, but resulted in confirming
the decision of the lower court. Mrs. Mason was for many years, through
the patronage and kindness of Senator Garland and other members of
Congress from Arkansas, a clerk in the Land Office at Washington. I
found Mrs. Mason living in well-appointed apartments with her daughter,
an artistic painter of some note, with studio adjoining, where I was
shown many beautiful productions of her brush. I was conversant with
many instances in the North where Southern planters had brought their
colored families to be educated, purchasing and giving them property for
settlement and sustenance, especially that their girls might escape the
environments which undoubtedly awaited them at the South. These were in
fine and valuable contradistinction to many cases similarly related,
where they were sold on the auction block to the highest bidder. But in
all candor it cannot but be supposed that in many instances the sale of
the planter's own flesh and blood was involuntary. High living, neglect
of the comparative relation of resource and expenditure, gambling for
big stakes on steamboat and at Northern watering places, brought the
evil day with attending results to the "chattel" subject to the baneful
caprice of unrestrained liberty.
On the 23d of January, 1898, I was taking my leave of Paris to meet my
steamer at Marseilles for a 20-day voyage for Madagascar. My stay at
the hotel had been pleasant, and I supposed had received all necessary
attention from the servants that occasion demanded; but in character it
had been individual. Now it was united, for in doorway and on staircase
they were (like Tennyson's cannon) servants "to the right of me and
servants to the left of me," smiling and gracious. One, of whom I had no
recollection of having previously seen, approached me with an obeisance
decidedly French to remind me that he was the "baggage man" and attended
to it when I arrived. I replied, "You are not the man who took up my
baggage." "No," he said; "I am the man who looked after the man who
watched the man who did take it up." "Oh!" I said; and then remembering
that he and I had much in common, his English and my French being twins,
I conceded his claim, "tipped" others that impeded my exit, and made
hasty retreat.
Leaving Paris at 2:30 P. M., at 2 in the morning we reached Lyons,
stopping 25 minutes for coffee and refreshments, which reached a
long-felt want, arriving at Hotel de Louvre et de la Paix, at
Marseilles, three hours later. Paris is prolific in names of its hotels,
but this was commensurate in luxury and first class in every particular,
very large, the finest in Marseilles and said to be unsurpassed in
France. It is approached by a hall-way fifty feet long from Rue
Canebrian (the street), which leads you into an oval-shaped court 100
by 200 feet. Around this court in niches are finely-sculptured statuary,
paintings and choice flowers in porcelain vases. Out of this court you
are conducted into the hotel proper. Spacious stairways of Italian
marble, the tread of which covered with Turkish carpets, leads you to
the interior. The court in the inner center of the hotel rises to a
height of five or six stories, and is covered by parti-colored glass,
which emits a soft and pleasing tint on all below. The dining room was
"a thing of beauty," and the menu "a joy forever." The adornments of the
room would well befit a palace. Oh, that I had the tongue of an orator
or the pen of a ready writer, to fitly describe! Took breakfast and then
a stroll along the principal streets of the city and the wharves of the
Mediterranean. The city resembled a bee hive; the houses and streets are
literally crowded with men and women of all nationalities and costumes.
Wending our way to "Notre Dame," a magnificent church on a hill, one
thousand feet above the level of the city, entirely overlooking it,
while the Mediterranean lies sparkling in the distance directly below.
On the top of the dome of this edifice is a figure encased in gold,
representing "Holy Mary" with the Christ in her arms. A gallery
surrounds the church, from which the view is grand and imposing. Ascent
and descent can be made by an elevator.
On the 25th of January we embarked on board our ship, the "Pie Ho," and
found state room comfortable for the longest voyage of our travel. The
view as we pass out of the harbor of Marseilles is quite picturesque,
with its quaint old buildings, mountainous surroundings, its medley of
ships, soldiers and sailors of every nation, differing in uniform and
costume. Here, as I suppose it is everywhere where love and friendship
dwell, hundreds had assembled at docks and quays and other points of
vantage to waive hands and handkerchiefs of a loving farewell. I thought
of my dear daughter on the wharf at New York and her anxious gaze until
we were lost in the distance. This ship, the "Pie Ho," of a French line,
is said to be old, but staunch, comfortable and giving good service; but
a failure in that particular the want of which retards the success of
many people of whom it could be truthfully said by Christian and
moralist that they were good and reliable. The "Pie Ho" is not swift,
but if she retains the commendation that oft accompanies slowness, that
of being sure, we should be content. But age has its limits, and happy
should all be who safely and honorably round up the voyage of life.
We are now in full view of Mount Strombol in the Mediterranean, a
volcano in full blast, emitting fire and clouds of smoke. Yesterday we
entered the Ionian Sea; today we have land on either side, Sicily on our
right and Italy on our left, with a good view of its coast lines;
cities, towns, cultivated fields and trains in motion. At 2 P. M.
January 30 we see Dermot Lighthouse, and at 3 reach Port Said. The
Khedive's dominion, a Government and business point, with many consular
residences. It was the first sight of the "old flag" since leaving
Marseilles. It is a new baptism of patriotism for one to see the
national banner so far from home, and impromptu he sings, "long may it
wave," for "with all thy faults I love thee still."
We anchored out in the bay, and with small boats went ashore. Port Said
is quite cosmopolitan both in its business and residence features.
Nearly every nationality has its representative in trade, but
numerically the unspeakable Turk is very much in evidence. On landing
one of the guards, numerous and whose charges are fixed by law, took us
in charge to show us the city. The streets generally were unimproved and
irregular, both in architecture and location. Through several dingy and
untidy streets he led us to the public park, which made considerable
pretension to order and neatness. The turban, the wrap, the sandals and
other Oriental costumes, which made up the dress, were not more varied
than the complexion of the people, but their features were generally
fine-cut. A marble bust of De Lesseps, the contractor of the Suez Canal,
which we shall soon enter, has a prominent place.
Through several streets, monotonous for disorder and uncleanliness, we
reached the "Mosque," the Mahomedan place of worship. In the minaret
high up on the tower stood an officer awaiting the hour to lower the
flag as a signal to all Musselmen that they could eat, the day being one
of their fast days. In all the streets through which we passed could be
seen groups of the faithful with anxious look toward the minaret to
catch the first downward movement of the flag. It came at last, and with
it the shouting and running of the crowds to booths and stands for
eating purposes that lined the sidewalks. We approached the "Mosque"
with all the solemnity possible for hypocritical heretics to assume, and
were met at the door by a grave and reverent sire, who interviewed the
guide.
We had been told that we would have to take off our shoes (just here we
noted the same pliancy observable in many of our own denomination when
there is prospect of getting the almighty dollar). In some way the
matter was compromised by putting on over our shoes large sandals made
of straw. After paying 50 centimes each (equal to 10 cents in our
currency), we entered a large room without furniture or other adornment,
with stone floor, some matting, upon which a number of worshipers were
kneeling and supplicating "Allah," their supreme being. There was an
earnestness that bespoke sincerity, and an all-abiding faith. I could
but think how few of us who would criticise are true to the creed we
profess.
In a kind of lavatory adjoining could be seen men washing their feet and
doing oddities unmentionable preparatory to worship.
After wandering about the building for some time I was accosted by one
of the attendants, and was made to understand that one of my feet was
uncovered. I had lost one of my sandals. I was rather uneasy for a
while, not knowing what they might do with that unholy foot that had
desecrated the temple. The guide found it, however, and "Richard was
himself again." After leaving the "Mosque" the guide escorted us
shipward through the business portion of the city, neat and cleanly,
with hotels and stores creditable to a metropolis. But for beggars of
unrivaled persistency I commend you to Port Said, for with a
pitiableness, sincere or assumed, they dog your every footstep.
At the southern part of the city is a large cemetery, having stones with
many hieroglyphics and inscriptions denoting the former locality,
character and virtues of the dead. With the scholar are interred copies
of his literary productions; with the soldier, his sword; with the
statesman, a roll of his achievements for the good of the state, for
presentation to "Allah."