before Uncle Sam is ready to do much. She also, in her overwhelming
pride, believes that her own nationals in the States possess sufficient
power to stultify any great war effort. She also believes that the
American people are naturally pacifists and that the President will have
a big job in front of him. And indeed he might have had a difficult job,
too, for great prosperity tends to weaken the offensive power of a
democracy and there were many men here who disliked intensely the idea
of sending an army of American men to France to fight side by side with
England, but his job has become child's play since Zimmermann's wily
scheme to ally Mexico and Japan against the States has been exposed.
This exposure united the people as if by magic. The people began to
scent danger, and danger close at home, and they saw at once that the
only enemy they possessed was Kaiser William. When the Kaiser dies, and
I suppose he will die some day, it would be interesting to be present
(just for a second, of course) when he meets his grandfather's great
friend, Bismarck. One would not desire to stay long on account of the
climate but it would be interesting nevertheless. Would Bismarck weep or
laugh?
Of course, the Zimmermann scheme counted for very little with the great
minds at the helm of state here, but it did rouse the ordinary people
and settled many arguments.
So the war lord is going to drown thousands of sailors in order that a
million lives may be saved on the battlefields of Europe! What a pity
that we inefficient and contemptible British, American, and French
people cannot agree with him. What fools we all must seem to him to
prefer death a thousand times rather than to spend a single second in
the world with His Imperial Highness as our lord and master.
Thank heaven we can see him as he is really--just a mad chauffeur with
his foot on the accelerator dashing down a very steep hill with not a
chance in the world of getting around that nasty turning at the bottom.
The car he is driving to destruction is a very fine machine, too. It is
a great pity. Perhaps it will break down suddenly before he gets to the
bottom and the mad chauffeur will come an awful cropper, but there will
be something left of the machine.
I have now left the hotel and am established in a very happy home. It
was difficult to get lodgings, but I applied to J---- C---- for help
and he sent me down to Harry's wife. Harry is the butler of a friend of
mine, one of the head steel officials. Anyone who applies to J---- C----
for help always gets it. He is an Irishman who has not been in Ireland
for half a century, but he has still got a brogue. I called on Harry's
wife and found a sweet faced English girl with a small young lady who
made love to me promptly. I decided to move as soon as possible, and now
I am perfectly happy. Harry's wife will do anything in the world to make
a fellow comfortable and "himself" keeps my clothes pressed in his spare
time. They both do nice little things for me. I can do precisely what I
please and I know that the two of them are very interested.
One night, four cheery people came in; one seized a mandolin, another a
guitar, while a third played the piano. It was quite late and I wondered
what my gentle landlord and his lady would think. While the music was
still going on I stole out to reconnoitre and saw the two of them
fox-trotting round the kitchen like a couple of happy children, just
loving the music. Harry's wife's father and her brothers are all
soldiers and she was brought up at Aldershot. When I write things for
magazines she listens to me in the middle of her work while I read them
and she always expresses enthusiasm. When the ominous package returns
she is as depressed as I am about it.
A friend offered me what he alleged to be a well-bred Western Highland
terrier in Philadelphia, and I, of course, fell, for Becky, Harry's
little girl, wanted a dog. My friend called up his daughter and told her
to send one of the puppies along. I observed that I wanted a male puppy
and he said: "Yep." Communications must have broken down somewhere, for
a tiny female puppy arrived in a pink basket. The person who said that
my puppy was a Western Highland terrier was an optimist, or a liar. I
fear that her family tree would not bear close inspection. However, she
hopped out of the basket and expressed a good deal of pleasure. She
ought to have been at least another month with her mother. We gave her
milk and she at once grew so stout in front of our eyes that we all
shuddered, wondering what would happen next. She couldn't walk, but
after a time her figure became more normal. She had very nice manners on
the whole, and had a clinging disposition and would worm her way right
round a person's back under his coat and emerge from under his collar
close up to his neck. In a few days she became perfectly nude and Jack,
calling, mistook her for a rat, but was disappointed. She mistook him
for a relation and too actively showed her affection. He refused to look
at her, placed both feet on my shoulders, looked with astonishment at
me, and left the house. He has refused to enter ever since. Sally, as we
had named her, got even more nude, so I got some anti-eczema dope and
rubbed her with it. This had the desired effect and her hair grew again.
I wish you could see her and her young mistress together, mixed up with
six rabbits.
Sally refuses to look like a Western Highland terrier, and follows me
about looking like a tiny rat. A man pointed to us one day and said:
"Wots that?" His friend, thinking he meant an automobile that was
passing said: "Just a flivver." So we have decided upon Sally's breed
and she is called a flivver dog. Like all dogs of mixed breed she is
wonderfully intelligent, and her young mistress and her mistress's
mother would not sell her for a million dollars. She has more friends
throughout this town than we can ever have. Her greatest friend is a fat
policeman who lives opposite. I took her to a picnic once and she buried
all our sausages which they call "Frankfurters" here. We saw her
disappearing with the last one almost as big as herself.
I am very lucky to have secured such a wonderful home in Bethlehem. No
woman enjoys having strange men ruining her carpets and making
themselves a nuisance generally, and as the Bethlehem people are mostly
well off, few of them desire to take in lodgers. Harry's wife has taken
me in because she has soldier blood and royal artillery blood in her
veins and she wants to do her bit.
VII
SOME BRITISH SHELLS FALL SHORT
BETHLEHEM, U. S. A., April 25, 1917.
In the days of the Boer war we used to sing a patriotic song which
commenced with the words "War clouds gather over every land." War clouds
have gathered over this land all right, but they haven't darkened the
minds of the people in any way. With a quickness and a keenness that is
surprising, the people have realized that the war clouds hovering over
the United States have a very beautiful silver lining, and they haven't
got to worry about turning them inside out either, because they know the
silver lining is there all right. Of course, the womenfolk are very
worried, naturally. I don't blame them, when I look at their sons.
I think that Uncle Sam's action in deciding to fight Germany is a golden
lining to the very dark cloud of war in England. I am hoping that the
folk over here will realize all our suffering during the past three
years. I know that soon they will understand that the so-called
"England's mistakes" were not mistakes really, at least not mistakes
made since August, 1914, but just the great big composite mistake of
unpreparedness. It seems to me that Uncle Sam was just as guilty. He
himself believes that he was much more guilty because he _did_ have
nearly three years to think about the matter.
He will realize that we could not save Serbia, because we simply had not
trained men or the guns to equip them with. He will know that the
Dardanelles business, although apparently a failure, was an heroic
effort to help Russia since she needed help. He will realize that right
from the start we have been doing our "damnedest." He knows, of course,
that, like the United States, we are a democracy, a form of government
which was never designed with the object of making war outside its own
council chamber. I dare say he will understand the whole thing finally;
I hope that he will grow to understand us as a nation and that we will
learn to understand him. It is about time that we did.
It is very interesting over here to watch the development of popular
feeling. Before the United States broke with Germany the President, of
course, came in for his share of criticism. Now the man who says a word
against Mr. Wilson gets it "in the neck." All the people realize that he
is a very great man and both Democrats and Republicans are united in one
object--to stand by the President. This is not mere war hysteria, but
the display of common sense. While the country was at peace the two
great parties enjoyed their arguments, and I dare say after the war
they will once more indulge in this interesting pastime, but not until
Mr. Hohenzollern is keeping a second-hand shop in a small street in
Sweden somewhere.
All my men friends have rushed off from Bethlehem to become soldiers. It
is a fine thing to think of these American fellows fighting beside us.
You will realize this when you discover that an American belies
absolutely his British reputation of being a boaster, with little to
boast about. However, there is one phrase that I wish he would not use
and that is "in the world." It causes misunderstanding often. I believe
that the American fellow that I meet will make a wonderful soldier when
he has learned a few things. It seems to me that we British had to learn
quite a lot of things from the Germans in the way of modern warfare at
the start.
I hate to think of an anaemic German with spectacles turning his machine
gun on these fellows, as with much courage and much inexperience they
expose themselves, until they learn that personal courage allied to
inexperience make an impossible combination against the Huns. But one
sees them learning difficult lessons for their temperament, and finally
being as good soldiers as our own. I can also see them willing to
acknowledge that they are no better.
We have discovered that Count Bernstorff was rather an impossible
person, although plausible, and altogether it is quite unsafe to be a
German sympathizer here these days. I am a little afraid of German
propaganda, which will surely take subtle steps to interfere with the
friendship that can be seen arising between us and our brothers over
here. I dare say England will be very severely attacked in all kinds of
cunning ways. Will she take equally subtle steps to combat it?
The Russian revolution is rather a blow. The Slavs ought to have stuck
to the Czar and made him into an ornamental constitutional monarch for
the people to gape at and to be duly thrilled with. The trouble is that
Germany will have a wonderful opportunity during the birth of
constitutional rule in Russia, and I dare say she will try to arrange to
have Nicholas once more on the throne. Germany dislikes revolutions
close to her borders, and a Russian republic next door will be very
awkward for her if not dangerous. Perhaps in this revolution lies a
little hope for the rest of the world. Perhaps the German people may
catch the "disease" and we may have peace some day. The revolutionary
spirit is very "catching."
Marshal Joffre and Mr. Balfour have arrived and both of them have made a
wonderful impression over here. It is interesting to know that British
genius could reach such heights as to choose such a very proper
gentleman as Mr. Balfour for the job. Some of my friends are a little
apologetic because more attention seems to be paid to the great French
general than to Mr. Balfour, but I say: "Lord bless your soul, why we
sent Mr. Balfour over here to join in your huzzahs to Marshal Joffre. He
will shout 'Vive La France!' to Joffre with any one of you."
Thank heaven that our folk realized that the American people want our
very best sent over to them, and that they love very dearly that type of
old world courteousness and gentility that Mr. Balfour represents. It is
good thing that they did not send a "shirt-sleeved" politician.
Altogether I know that Mr. Balfour's mission will help to form a
foundation stone to a lasting friendship between America and ourselves.
He has belted knights and all kinds of superior officers with him. They
are very decorative, and, of course, very useful to the folk over here,
since they are armed with much information that will surely help; but if
Mr. Balfour had arrived on an ordinary liner alone and had walked down
the gangway with his bag of golf clubs, his welcome would have been just
as fervent, and the effect he has already produced just as great; for
the thing that America fell for was his calm simplicity and gentleness.
I wish that the American people could know that Mr. Balfour represents
the type of British gentleman that we all hold as an ideal. Of course,
we cannot all possess his personality, nor his brilliant intellect, but
I am certain that we could try to copy his method of dealing with our
cousins over here.
Sometimes I think that before a representative of our Empire is allowed
to land in this country he should be forced to pass an examination held
by the best humourists who work for the _London Punch_. An _entente
cordiale_ with America would then be perfectly simple. Perhaps it would
be a good thing if our folk realized that they don't know anything about
this country.
When American people see two Frenchmen and a couple of Englishmen
misbehaving themselves, and treading on people's toes--not an unusual
sight, especially in regard to the last named--they don't shrug their
shoulders and say: "These Europeans, aren't they perfectly awful?" They
merely remark: "English manners." Unfortunately that seems to be enough.
American people do not seem to understand what they call our "class
distinctions." However, I am sure that they have not the slightest
difficulty in understanding the type represented by Mr. Balfour. Christ
died in order that we should be neighbourly. All nations have been
affected by Christianity to a greater or to a less degree; in fact, at
the back of all our minds there is still the Christian ideal of
gentleness. When a man has attained that state of mind which prevents
him from offending another by thought, word, or deed without decent
provocation; and when by self discipline and training he has attained
what Mathew Arnold called "sweet reasonableness" to me it seems he has
approached very closely to the Christian ideal.
And so the word "gentleman" denotes something which cannot be in the
least affected by birth or class distinctions. The only thing is that
people of birth and fortune are able to study up the question a bit more
thoroughly, and having time to read, they are influenced by the
thousands of "gentlefolk" who have left their record upon the pages of
history. Still amongst the very poor of Whitechapel and Battersea I have
met some wonderful gentlemen and gentlewomen who would find great
difficulty in reading even the editorial page of the _New York Journal_.
We are certainly living in thrilling times over here. Great Britain has
a tremendous opportunity methinks. I hope that she will seize hold of
it. It will be fine to have a great big strong friend beside us
throughout the coming centuries. At the moment John Bull is a little
puffed up with pride and so is Uncle Sam. Neither possesses much
humility, but after the war they will both be a little thinner and the
matter ought not to be difficult, though there will still be a few
difficulties in the way.
Of course, to talk like this may seem a little strange when the British
flag is flying all over America side by side with the Stars and Stripes.
But flag waving and the bursting forth of sentimental oratory mean
nothing, really. It is the foundation of a structure that counts, and
the foundation of Anglo-American friendship must be a firm one. Perhaps
one or two bricks in the present foundation could be removed with good
results. I'm not going to talk about the American side of the business,
but I do think that if some of the Britishers who arrive here would
realize that they have got extremely irritating manners it might be a
good thing.
If we are going to criticise our cousins, we should spend at least three
years in their country; that would allow us to spend about a month in
each state. Frankly, I believe that after a little experience here, if
we should be normal persons wanting to find out things, all desire to
criticise unkindly would leave us. At any rate we should take an
intelligent line. We might learn a little, too. This would be a great
help. Of course, the "Colonel's lady" would still perform surgical
operations but she would do her work cleverly. Of course, America with
its mighty size and variety of climates has been long enough inhabited
to allow the formation of differing groups of people.
In England the people have a vague idea that a member of the Four
Hundred, with a mansion on Fifth Avenue, represents a typical American.
Tell that to a lady with a long list of polite ancestors and quite a lot
of money who lives in Maryland. Tell it to an aristocratic New Englander
whose ancestors braved the elements in the _Mayflower_. Mention it
casually to some of the people living not too far from Rittenhouse
Square, and then expect another invitation to dinner. You won't get one.
The _Mayflower_ business is very interesting. Some pretty funny people
arrived in England with the Conqueror, judging by their descendants. His
followers were very prolific, I am sure; but they had very small
families when compared with pilgrims who arrived in the _Mayflower_.
I don't know very much about Washington, but I went to a party there not
long ago which I shall never be able to forget. It was marvellous, and
the most wonderful part about the function was my hostess, whose
diamonds would ransom a king, but her jewels formed merely a setting to
her own charming natural self. That's what I thought, at any rate, as I
sat and chatted to her about the island in the west of Scotland from
where her children's forebears came.
Like us and the Chinese, American people sometimes worship their
ancestors, but they never burn this incense in front of their own folk,
as far as I can see, except, of course, when they are related to the
great Americans of the past. Some have wonderful crests of which they
seem a little proud, and, of course, a good looking crest is a great
help on the whole, especially in matters that don't count a scrap.
To the ordinary snob, things over here are a little difficult because
you simply cannot place a person in his or her social sphere by studying
the accent. In Great Britain we have this worked out in the most perfect
manner so that from the moment of introduction almost, we can tell
whether the person introduced is guilty of the terrible crime of being a
"provincial," poor chap!
Frankly, I am going to dare to say that I think it would be a jolly good
idea if some of the people I know and love did worry a little more about
the way they pronounce their words, because a lot of them are simply too
lazy to worry. However, the things they say are awfully nice and that is
what counts in the long run, so I suppose it doesn't matter very much.
Talking about ancestors, a great friend of mine here in Bethlehem was
faintly interested in his forebears, and visiting the place from where
his father came he inquired from the lady of the inn if there were any
Johnstones living in those parts. She replied: "Did you come up to the
house in a hansom cab?"
"Yes," he replied.
"Well, that was a Johnstone that drove ye."
"Are there any others?" he asked.
"Yes, but they're all thieves."
She told him the story of a man wandering through the village seeking a
"ludgin," and being exhausted, finally shouted: "Isn't there a
'Chreestian' living in this toon?" Up went a window, and a woman's voice
shrieked: "Do ye no ken that there are only Johnstones and Jardines
living in the place, ye feckless loon!" Down went the window.
VIII
LACRYMATORY SHELLS
BETHLEHEM, July 23, 1917.
A stray Englishman dropped in to see me the other night in New York. I
know rather well the girl he had hoped to marry. He seemed rather
depressed, and told me that she had written in reply to his proposal of
marriage that if he thought that Providence had brought her to her by no
means inconsiderable numbers of years especially to be reserved for him,
it was obvious that he must regard as extremely shortsighted the Supreme
Being guarding the lives of us poor mortals. He seems to have become
very depressed and regarded all women as hard hearted tyrants. This
lasted for some days and the moving pictures with a love-interest lost
all their wonted charm. It was very sad because the lady is an extremely
nice girl and very good looking, although she has been to Girton.
I don't know anything about the Cambridge women but I have seen a
perfectly priceless suffragette from Girton, it was alleged, addressing
a crowd in the market square at Cambridge, while a large throng of
undergraduates looked at her with much admiration. I remember a low
townee fellow said "rats" to one of her statements. She replied with
the sweetest smile in the world: "_That's_ an intelligent remark," while
a large football player took revenge on the chap.
From all this you will gather that I know but little about the womenfolk
of Blighty. I have never thought very much about them nor studied their
habits. However, over here in America our countrywomen are well known by
their female cousins. The American girl does not think much about the
English girl, except to admire and like her accent, but the mature
American women who thinks at all wonders a little at the docility
towards their men folk shown by our women. I love to tease them about
it. An American man observed to me once that England was "heaven for
horses, but hell for women."
Yesterday I was coming from New York in a train with a lady from a small
and very charming American town. We talked about many things and then
about our women. I told her some "woppers" and she became steadily
furious. I said to her that all women really liked "cave men," that they
liked a man who could control them, someone big and strong and fine. I
said that women were a little like horses; they invariably got rid of
the fellow who could not control them, and that this explained the
number of divorces in America. I pointed out, however, that the really
brutal man was equally useless; but the fellow a woman liked best was
the chap who took complete control and loved her an awful lot as well.
"You know yourself that you love to do little things for your husband,
to light his study lamps for him--perhaps when he is tired after a day's
work while you have been to an interesting tea, to place his slippers by
the study fire ready for him to put on before he dresses for dinner," I
continued. The conversation became dangerous for she thought I was
serious. Perhaps I was a little. But I could not have been altogether
serious for I know nothing about the subject. However, I do remember
once, years ago, staying at a country parsonage. The vicar was not at
all poor. I was sitting in his study awaiting his return. As darkness
commenced to creep over the countryside my hostess came in and removed
from the chimney piece two large lamps which she proceeded to trim and
finally to light. She then brought in and placed by the fire two soft
house-shoes, and then examined the cushions on his chair. I wondered a
little for there seemed an awful lot of servants about, but she
explained that she had done the same thing for twelve years and liked to
do it. "The poor boy is often so very tired after he returns from
visiting, and servants never seem able to do these little things really
well," she said. Then the vicar arrived and I was not at all astonished
at the devotion shown by his wife.
But the lady from the little town, a very fashionable little American
town, could not understand this at all. She got a little excited as she
said: "If my husband were ill and could not walk I would gladly get his
slippers for him": and across her face there crept a resigned and
helpless look as though her husband were already ill. Of course, I was
merely joking with her, but it was all very interesting and I got her
point of view.
Now far be it from me to say a word against the girls of America. I
think that they are perfectly wonderful. But why do they whiten their
noses? That is a settled habit. However, it is interesting to study
their habits. I think it is a fact that they do really control their
husbands, and it seems to me a very good thing, too. I should not like
to be controlled by a lady from New England, however, of the superior
working class. One tried to control me once and I hated it, and used to
thank a merciful Providence that she was not my wife. I would have
committed suicide or escaped or something.
But let me tell you about Miss America as I see her. The subject is a
dangerous one for a mere man to attempt, but I have a _bon courage_ as a
French lady once said after I had spoken much French.