_All that Glitters is not Gold, especially in America.--The
Dollar is the Unity of the Metrical System.--Jonathan is
Matter-of-fact.--How he judges Man.--The Kind of Baits that
Take.--Talent without Money is a Useless Tool.--Boston and
Kansas._
Jonathan admires all that glitters, even that which is not gold.
In his eyes, the success of a thing answers for its quality, and the
charlatanism that succeeds is superior to the merit that vegetates.
The dollar is not only the unity of the monetary system; it is also the
unity of the metrical system.
Before assigning a man his standing, people ask him in England, "Who is
your father?" in France, "Who are you?" in America, "How much have you?"
Like Professor Teufelsdroeckh, the ordinary American judges men with an
impartiality and coolness really charming. He admires talent, because it
is a paying commodity. A literary or artistic success is only a success,
in his eyes, on condition that it is a monetary one as well. He looks
upon every man as possessing a certain commercial value. He is worth so
much. Such and such a celebrity does not inspire his respect and
admiration because he or she has produced a work of genius, but because
the work of genius has produced a fortune. In America, you hear people,
when talking of Madame Adelina Patti, speak less of her incomparable
voice than of the houses she draws.
I was chatting one day with an American about the famous Robert
Ingersoll.
"He is your greatest orator, I am told," I said.
"Oh, yes," he replied. "Ingersoll can fill the Metropolitan Opera House
any day, and have five thousand dollars in the house."
Certainly that is a curious way to speak of a great orator, a great
writer, and a great thinker.
I need not say that I am now speaking of the ordinary American, not the
man of refinement.
It would be quite possible for an actress to attract large audiences all
through a tour from New York to San Francisco, not because of
incontestable talent, but because she travelled in a magnificent
palace-car of her own.
I saw, in an American paper, the appearance of Miss Minnie Palmer spoken
of in the following terms:
"Minnie Palmer will wear all her diamonds in the third act."
The booking-office was besieged all day, and in the evening money was
refused. An amusing detail was the arrival of a good fourth of the
audience at ten o'clock, to see the diamonds in the third act.
This necessity for being rich is the reverse side of the medal in
America, where, more than anywhere else, talent without money is a
useless tool.
America suffers from this state of things. The country's genius, instead
of consecrating all its time to the production of works which would tend
to elevate the ideas and aspirations of the people, is obliged to think
of money-making.
"Ah! my friend," said one of America's most graceful bards to me one day
as he touched his forehead, "it seems to me that I have something there,
that I possess the _feu sacre_, and that I might do a little share of
good by my writings. But how write poems, when there are rumours of
panic in Wall Street?----Excuse me, I have not a moment to lose; I must
rush to the Stock Exchange."
The American authors, most of them, only take up the pen at odd hours.
Business first. Mark Twain is a publisher; Oliver Wendell Holmes is a
doctor; Edmund Clarence Stedman is a stockbroker; Robert Ingersoll, an
advocate; George Cable, a public lecturer; and James Russell Lowell is a
diplomatist. The rest are journalists. There are few, indeed, who live
by book-writing.
However, perhaps a day will come when American law will prevent
publishers from stealing the works of European writers, and publishing
them at low prices; then American authors, having no longer to fear this
unjust competition, may be able to sell their books in sufficient
numbers to allow them to pay their landlord and tradesmen out of the
profits. When that day comes, American literature will spread its
pinions and rise to prodigious heights.
In a country governed by Protectionists, it does seem strange that
national products should all be protected except the products of the
brain. Such an anomaly cannot certainly endure. The moral sense of the
people will triumph. Boston, not Kansas, must win.
Unluckily, the Copyright Bill has the misfortune to be desired by the
English; and this is quite enough for the Washington politicians to
refuse to pass it, although the Americans desire it no less than the
English, if not more.