As I listened to the rector, knowing how easy I had found it

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MY IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA

MARGOT ASQUITH

[Illustration: _Copyright by Harris and Ewing_

MARGOT ASQUITH

Returning from her visit to the White House.]

MY IMPRESSIONS

OF AMERICA

BY

MARGOT ASQUITH

AUTHOR OF "MARGOT ASQUITH: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY," ETC.

NEW YORK

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1922,

BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY.

MY IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. I

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

I: ABOARD THE _CARMANIA_

PAGE

MARGOT NOT A NATURAL TOURIST; LACKS

CURIOSITY--HEADLINES IN LONDON COMPARED

WITH HEADLINES IN NEW YORK--AMERICAN

WOMEN WORLDLY--AMERICAN

MEN THE GENUINE ARTICLE 11

II: ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK

REPORTERS LACKING IN AWE--SPLENDOURS OF

HOTEL LIFE--FIRST LECTURE A FAILURE

AS RESULT OF SEA-SICKNESS--THRILLED

BY NEW YORK'S ARCHITECTURE 21

III: BOSTON AND WORCESTER

DISCOMFORT OF TRAVEL IN AMERICA--STAGE

FRIGHT IN BOSTON--BOSTONIANS INTELLIGENT

AND COURTEOUS--JOHN SARGENT'S

FRESCOES IN THE MUSEUM 29

IV: UNRESPONSIVE PHILADELPHIA

SERMON ON LIFE AS A TRAINING SCHOOL--MARGOT'S

ENGLISH NOT UNDERSTOOD IN PHILADELPHIA--MRS.

CORNELIUS VANDERBILT'S

BAL POUDRE--PRAISE FROM HEYWOOD

BROUN 41

V: THE WHITE HOUSE AND WASHINGTON

PRESIDENT HARDING EASY TO TALK TO--MARGOT

EXPLAINS ENGLISH POLITICS--CHATS

WITH WOODROW WILSON--IMPRESSED BY

AMBASSADOR JUSSERAND 57

VI: DETROIT AND CHICAGO

GUEST OF WOMEN'S CLUB--VISITS FORD WORKS--LOVELY

MRS. MINOTTO--BONUS AND

DISABLED SOLDIERS 71

VII: PITTSBURGH AND ROCHESTER

MEETS AN INTERESTING REPORTER--COMPLIMENTS

FROM DR. HOLLAND--PULLMAN

CAR INCONVENIENCES--MARGOT SEES HER

FIRST FLAPPER 81

VIII: TORONTO AND MONTREAL

MARGOT TELLS A MARK TWAIN STORY--CAPTURES

TORONTO AUDIENCE; KISSES CHARWOMAN--MONTREAL

LADIES QUELLING

AND CRITICAL 95

IX: IN CANADA'S CAPITAL

APATHY AND BREEDING OF OTTAWA'S AUDIENCE--INTIMATE

TALK WITH PREMIER MACKENZIE

KING--THE STATUE OF "SIR GALAHAD"

AND ITS STORY 105

X: REFLECTIONS AT LARGE

DRAWBACKS OF AMERICAN JOURNALISM--SENSATIONAL

HEADLINES; FEAR OF THE PRESS--CONTROVERSY

ON PROHIBITION WITH

LORD LEE--IMPRESSIONS OF U. S. SENATE 115

XI: SYRACUSE AND BUFFALO

CITY OF CULTURE AND BEAUTY--NIAGARA'S

NATURAL BEAUTY MARRED BY BILLBOARDS--MARGOT

READS ABOUT HERSELF 135

XII: INTERESTING ST. LOUIS

MET BY THE MAYOR--ANOTHER INTELLIGENT

REPORTER--NEWS FROM HOME AND VIEWS

THEREON--LUNCHEON AT WOMEN'S CLUB 147

XIII: KANSAS CITY AND OMAHA

AMERICAN VOICES RARELY MUSICAL--SEES

LOVELY COUNTRY HOME--DISCUSSION ON

CHARACTER BUILDING--MARGOT PREDICTS

GREAT FUTURE FOR GOVERNOR ALLEN 155

XIV: THE WAR AND PROHIBITION

HEATED DISCUSSION ON ENGLAND'S ENTRY INTO

THE WAR--OUR GERMAN FRIENDS--AMERICAN

VITALITY--MISQUOTED ON PROHIBITION 165

XV: NEW YORK IDEAL CITY

LIFE AND AIR AND GAIETY IN NEW YORK--LETTER

FROM GOVERNOR ALLEN--MARGOT

MEETS ARTHUR BRISBANE--PRINCESS BIBESCO'S

BOOK 177

XVI: CRITICISM AND FAREWELL

DOLL SALESMAN TALKS ON PROHIBITION--PERILS

OF COMMERCIALISM AND MATERIALISM

IN AMERICA--PLEA FOR LOVE AND

FRIENDSHIP 189

XVII: THINKING IT OVER IN ENGLAND

AMERICANS FRIENDLY BUT VAIN--THE LAND

OF THE REFORMER--INTEREST IN EUROPE'S

ARISTOCRACY--NEWSPAPERS PANDER TO

VULGAR CURIOSITY--PLEA FOR ANGLO-AMERICAN

FRIENDSHIP 199

INDEX 211

MY IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA

I: ABOARD THE CARMANIA

ABOARD THE _CARMANIA_

MARGOT NOT A NATURAL TOURIST; LACKS CURIOSITY--HEADLINES IN LONDON

COMPARED WITH HEADLINES IN NEW YORK--AMERICAN WOMEN

WORLDLY--AMERICAN MEN THE GENUINE ARTICLE

I motored to Southampton on Saturday, the 21st of January, this year,

and after saying good-bye to my husband and my son, retired to my berth

on the _Carmania_. I am a bad traveller, and had been laid up with a

sort of influenza until the day before I left London.

Kindly press people tempted me to confide in them on the ship. They

asked me if I would be back in time for Princess Mary's wedding; where

I was going when I arrived in America, and if I looked forward to my

trip. I sometimes wonder what questions I would put if I were obliged to

interview a traveller. I would ask with reluctance where they were

going, but never what they had seen, because I know I could not listen

to their answers. Everyone knows what you are likely to see if you go

for any length of time to London, Rome, Athens or the United States; and

is there a person living whose impressions you would care to hear either

upon the Coliseum, Niagara Falls, or any other of the great works of art

or of nature? On such subjects the remarks of the cleverest and

stupidest are equally inadequate and the superb vocabulary of a Ruskin

will probably not be more illuminating than what the school-boy writes

in the Visitors' Book at Niagara, "Uncle and all very much pleased."

I am inclined to think it is a mild form of vanity that makes a certain

type of rich person travel every year. I have heard these say that for

all the interest we who are left behind take in what they have seen and

heard, they might as well have remained at Brighton. Nevertheless, the

world is full of tourists; and there are a number of people who like to

pick up pieces of unimportant information without effort. The foolish

majority of these read the _Daily Mail_; the political, the _Manchester

Guardian_; the Liberals, the _Westminster Gazette_; the intellectual,

the _New Statesman_; and to pass the time on Sundays there are always

the long columns of the _Observer_ or for the credulous, the "Secret

History of the Week."

After glancing at the leading articles, the City man turns to "Round the

Markets: Home Railways firm. The Chilian Scrip reacted to 1-1/4 premium

and Norway sixes give way to ninety-five." They then read: "By the

Silver Sea, the Sunny South, or Glowing East"; ponder over lists of

those who are going to Egypt, America, or the Riviera; and end by

learning that the site of the old General Post Office was in St.

Martins-le-Grand.

In America it is rather different. On the front page of one of the most

important papers you read:

"Kardos has hopes of father's aid," "Men faint in public and lose

$153,000," "Death note writer caught in Capital," "Losses of women duped

by Lindsay," "Iceland cabinet falls," "Tokio diet in uproar over snake

on floor," "Saddle horse from Firestone, Harding's favourite mount," and

short notices on Ireland, Paris and London; you are encouraged to turn

to page 6, column five or column 8, page 5 and finish with "Dazzling

display of Princess Mary's lingerie."

It is difficult to say why most travellers are uninteresting. I do not

think it is because they have been to wonderful places, but because the

average man has not the power to assimilate or interpret what he has

seen; and they enlarge on their own sensations with such a lack of

humour and proportion, that you feel as if they were not only rebuffing

you, but claiming part of the credit of the master works themselves.

When told at a party that you ought to meet Mr. So-and-So, as he has

just come back from the Far East, Southwest, or North Pole, you cling

to the nearest door post, and make your escape while the hero is being

traced in the crowd. I like what I have thought out for myself better

than what I discover; and conclusions arrived at after careful

reflection are more enlarging than what is pointed out to you by

inquisitive spectators.

I am not a natural tourist, and Napoleon's shaving soap will never

interest me as much as the smallest light upon his mind or character.

There is a difference between curiosity and interest, and I regret to

say I am not curious.

I have come to the United States for the first time, not in a missionary

spirit or to study anything or anybody, but to see my daughter and to

enjoy myself.

In a rash moment, however, I promised to write my impressions of the

United States and Canada, and this may give rise to false hopes.

Lord Acton wrote in a letter to Mrs. Drew, "One touch of ill nature

makes the whole world kin," and I must make an effort not to disappoint

my thoughtful critics. I have been accused of failing to appreciate the

society of brilliant American women whether in Italy, Paris or London;

but it could be added with truth that brilliance, while stimulating most

people, has always exhausted me. I prefer the clumsiest thought to the

most finished phrase, and am so slow, that the mildest complication may

make me miss the point. "General and prolonged laughter" is a faculty I

have never been able to acquire, and sudden explosions over anything I

have said usually convince me that I had better have held my tongue.

To an outsider who has only known European Americans, the most

noticeable thing about American women is their freedom from native soil.

They are equally well equipped whether their nationality is transferred

from Russia to Rome, Vienna, Roumania or Paris. No blank cheque could be

more adequately filled in, and I never cease wondering what can be the

secret of their perfect social mechanism.

Beautiful to look at and elegantly dressed, with an open mind upon

whatever topic is discussed, adaptable, available, rich and

good-humoured, the American woman as I know her is the last word in

worldiness and fashion. In my own country she is not only a popular, but

a privileged person, and having started by being what is called

"natural," she becomes more and more so every day.

The husbands of these ladies, when not of needy foreign aristocracy, are

usually divorced, discharged or disposed of in some way or other; and,

even if they are of the same nationality, are quite unlike the American

man as I have known him.

He is seldom fashionable and never leisured; he has a passion for

learning all that there is to be known, and holds vigorous views upon

most things. If a little copious in narrative, he is never mechanical,

but an absolutely genuine article; spontaneous, friendly, hospitable and

keen. He appears to treat his women folk with the patience and

indulgence you extend to spoilt children, never attempting to discuss

matters, either literary or political, with them, and is agreeably

surprised if you show an interest in Wall Street or the White House.

I am jotting down these preliminary impressions, any one of which

may--and probably will--have to be revised during the course of my

travels.

II: ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK

ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK

REPORTERS LACKING IN AWE--SPLENDOURS OF HOTEL LIFE--FIRST LECTURE A

FAILURE AS RESULT OF SEA-SICKNESS--THRILLED BY NEW YORK'S

ARCHITECTURE

After an abominable voyage during which the ship rolled and rocked,

groaned and shuddered, and the sea did precisely what it liked with us,

we arrived a day and a half late, and surrounded by press-men I

feather-stitched on to American soil.

If the reporters are a little lacking in awe, they make up for it by the

intelligent interest they take in everything connected with one; and

after being asked what I thought of "flappers" and what Mr. Lloyd George

thought of me, I was allowed to go to the Ambassador Hotel. I could not

have been greeted with more courtesy had I arrived at Windsor Castle,

nor have I ever stayed in a better hotel.

My son-in-law Prince Bibesco, my daughter Elizabeth, and my cousin Miss

Tennant (whose brother is Sir Auckland Geddes's private secretary),

showed me the airy bedrooms and beautiful bathrooms which the manager of

the hotel had chosen for us. I sat down completely exhausted when

suddenly the door opened and my sitting room was flooded with male and

female reporters. Having been seasick and without solid food for a week,

the carpet and ceiling were still nodding at me, and I regret to confess

that I said nothing very striking; but they were welcoming and friendly;

and after a somewhat dislocated conversation I staggered off to bed.

I was introduced the next day by my cicerone, Mr. Lee Keedick, to the

New Amsterdam Theatre, where scouts were placed in distant galleries to

try my voice. I had no difficulty in making myself heard, but I felt

terribly ill and more than inadequate as I made my first appearance at

3.30 in the well filled theatre. Dr. Murray Butler introduced me in a

courteous speech and explained that after such an unusually rough

crossing I would be obliged to sit down throughout the performance,

which I much regretted.

I opened with a spirited account of an Irish horse dealer, which, I

could see at a glance, interested nobody. Whether I was speaking Irish

or English, it might have been Walloon for all the audience cared. My

heart faded, my voice sank, and I knew that many could not hear; some

were not listening, and my friends were watching me with apprehension,

charity and cheers. More dead than alive I was relieved when an

enterprising lady shouted from the gallery:

"You've got my money for nothing--Good-bye, I've had enough of you!"

This informal greeting stirred the kindness of my listeners to a

protest, and as soon as I could, I changed to other subjects. With the

fall of the curtain many old friends came on to the stage, and

presenting me with roses, assured me that I had won the hearts of my

audience, after which I left the theatre.

Driving home, I opened all the taxi windows and was struck with the

architectural beauties of the streets. With the exception of Munich I

have never seen a modern town comparable to New York. The colour of the

stone and lightness of the air would put vitality into a corpse; and in

spite of a haunting recollection that the lady in the gallery had had

enough of me, I returned to the Ambassador happy though exhausted.

My daughter took me in the evening to a wonderful party given by Miss

Mabel Gerry. We wore our best clothes, but our taxi driver did not seem

satisfied, and before turning in to the magnificent court-yard, he

stopped, opened the door, and enquired rather sceptically if this was

where we were expected; concealing our mortification we urged him to

drive on.

There was something for every taste at Miss Gerry's beautiful house. I

started by sitting next to my dear old friend Mr. Harry White, and a

brilliant stranger Mr. Thomas Ridgeway; went on to play bridge, listened

to a fluent pianist, and finished by dancing unknown steps to a

wonderful band.

I am enunciating a platitude when I say the Americans are the finest

dancers in the world.

III: BOSTON AND WORCESTER

BOSTON AND WORCESTER

DISCOMFORT OF TRAVEL IN AMERICA--STAGE FRIGHT IN BOSTON--BOSTONIANS

INTELLIGENT AND COURTEOUS--JOHN SARGENT'S FRESCOES IN THE MUSEUM

On the 2nd of February, next morning, my friend and secretary Mr.

Horton, myself and maid arrived in Boston City after a comfortable

journey in a private compartment given to us by the courtesy of our

guard. I do not wish to say anything disagreeable, but except for the

beauty of the railway stations, the travelling arrangements in America

are far inferior to ours. Sitting erect on revolving chairs in public,

is a trial not lessened by an atmosphere in which you could force

pineapples. We were greeted upon our arrival by reporters and cameras.

It distresses me to stand blinking at the sun; as not being a beauty, I

know that my nose will always be more of a limb than a feature, and

trying to look pleasant results in my teeth coming out like tombstones

in the morning papers.

Left to ourselves, we went to examine the Symphony Hall, where I was to

speak that night. Arriving on the stage, I stood appalled. Feeling like

a midge upon a dreadnought, I looked at the largest hall I have ever

seen, except the one in London erected to the sacred memory of good

Prince Albert.

"This is a practical joke of the worst kind!" I exclaimed to the

gentlemen in attendance, "and not for a million dollars would I insult

the Boston people by making myself ridiculous here to-night. I have not

been in prison, or divorced; nor have I been to the North or South Pole,

or climbed mountains and Matterhorns; I have nothing wonderful to tell

about, and instead of one woman shouting, 'Give me back my money--I've

had enough of you,' the whole audience will rise to their feet. This is

not a hall, it's a railway tunnel! I cannot see the end of it: it's

made for engines or aeroplanes"; and I trembled with rage and

apprehension.

"It's a concert hall, madam, built for oratorios," they replied,

pointing to a vast organ decorating the wall behind me.

"No doubt drums, trumpets, or opera singers could make themselves heard,

but a shrimp of a female standing alone here would make the gods laugh,

and nothing will induce me to speak!"

"But, dear madam, all Boston is coming to hear you."

Mr. Horton put his arm through mine, saying soothingly, "You are tired;

let us go back to the hotel."

Visibly distressed, the gentlemen of the hall assured me that men of

meagre voice had lectured many times and been perfectly heard; and as I

walked away I saw through the corner of my eyes that my angelic

secretary was nodding to assure them that I would keep my contract.

Alone in the taxi I burst into tears, asking what I had done to be so

punished; I said that the front rows would be deafened, the centre

bewildered, and the balconies indignant. He assured me I had a beautiful

voice, an interesting personality and a plucky nature, etc., and that I

must certainly go through with it as every seat had been sold.

I dressed with streaming eyes and a scarlet nose, and in snow and

silence we drove to the Symphony Hall. The platform and auditorium were

crowded, and blind with fear, I walked on to the front of the stage. My

chairman, Mr. Arthur Hill (Corporation Counsel of the City of Boston),

in introducing me spoke with the greatest ease, and I observed that

every word he said was heard; but it was obvious from the perfection of

his speech that he had addressed a thousand audiences before and this

was only my second public appearance.

I stood up with my knees knocking together as I looked at the sea of

expectant faces below me.

Heaven forefend that I should repeat what I said, but for one hour and

twenty minutes I did the best I could; beginning with my pleasure at

being in America, I continued with stories of my native land, and ended

with an account of Windsor Castle and the Disarmament Conference.

No president or prime minister could have had a more intelligent,

friendly, courteous and responsive audience than the people of Boston.

Aching from my ankles to my temples, I bowed to their repeated cheers

as, humble and happy, I retired from the stage.

Enthusiastic hearers pressed into the green room where I had sunk into a

chair as immovable as the mangle. Mr. Horton, who had sat among the

statues on the sky line, assured me he had heard every syllable. Eager

reporters began to ask what I thought of Boston, but dumb and exhausted

I bundled into my cloak. Crowds of men and women were waiting in the

street, and as I motored away I gathered I had been a success.

The next day Lieutenant Governor Alvin Fuller and his wife--who were

among those who had congratulated me in the green room the night

before--gave us lunch and took us in their motor to the two great Boston

sights: the Public Library and the Fine Arts Museum.

The Library is a magnificent building, founded in 1852, containing over

two million volumes, half of which are lent out for daily use at home.

The architects of the building were McKim, Mead, & White of New York,

but most of the design was the work of Charles Follen McKim. The mural

decorations were painted by Puvis de Chavannes, Edwin Austin Abbey, and

John Singer Sargent. As my time was limited I concentrated on the works

of my friend Mr. Sargent.

It would be as impossible as it would be pretentious to attempt to

describe the beauty of the Sargent Hall. It represents thirty years of

thought and labour, and has a majesty of design, glory of drawing, and

originality of conception unequalled by anything in Europe.

The "Hand-Maid of the Lord" on the east wall, holding the Divine Child

in her arms, and "Our Lady of Sorrows," which faces it, fill your heart

with wonder and your eyes with tears.

In the first, the Blessed Virgin is rising from a throne with her baby

in her arms. You realise in looking at this Child that He is the Mighty

God and Everlasting Father; and the expression on the face of the

Virgin--more than of any other Madonna that I have ever seen--convinces

you that she was not only the Mother of the Counsellor upon whose

shoulders the Government would fall, but the Mother of the Prince of

Peace.

The Virgin in "Our Lady of Sorrows" stands upon the crescent moon behind

a row of lighted candles raised in relief of white, gold and silver. Her

little face with wide-set eyes looks down upon you from an elaborate

silver crown set against a radiant halo of fine and illusive design, and

her two beautiful hands clasp to her heart the shining swords that

typify the Seven Sorrows. The dignity of her pose, the submission and

pathos of her haunting eyes waken you to a new sense of the majesty of

pain. I felt, as I looked up, that I was sharing a common gratitude that

such subjects should have captured the genius of the greatest living

artist.

We went on from the Library to the Museum, where the decorations of the

dome of the rotunda, to say nothing of the exterior of the buildings,

are magnificent. Here Mr. John Sargent has surpassed himself.

I have heard critics, for want of something better to say, express the

opinion that he is a finer painter than artist. If they have any doubt

upon the subject, let them go to Boston, and if teachable, they will

learn there that Sargent is not only a rare artist, but a poet and an

architect.

Before leaving Boston City I received a call from Mrs. Bancroft, an old

lady of eighty, with whom I made friends. She was extremely clever, and

when she said I had both grace and genius I thought her an excellent

judge! She told me I looked tired, and when we said good-bye, she gave

me a bunch of wonderful flowers.

We motored from Boston to Worcester in the Fullers' car, and dined with

Mr. and Mrs. Charles M. Thayer, and after an excellent dinner in good

company, I delivered a lecture in the private house of Mr. and Mrs.

Washburn, at which there were no reporters. Having implored my fellow

guests at dinner to interrupt me in the drawing room--as I had never

addressed this kind of party before--we opened a sort of debate which I

thoroughly enjoyed. I doubt if any English audience, unless of old

friends, would have asked such clever and amusing questions, and I knew

as I answered back, by the feeling of life and laughter, that it had

been a success, and went to bed without remembering the New York lady

who had had enough of me.

IV: UNRESPONSIVE PHILADELPHIA

UNRESPONSIVE PHILADELPHIA

SERMON ON LIFE AS A TRAINING SCHOOL--MARGOT'S ENGLISH NOT

UNDERSTOOD IN PHILADELPHIA--MRS. CORNELIUS VANDERBILT'S BAL

POUDRE--PRAISE FROM HEYWOOD BROUN

On Sunday, the 15th of February, Mr. and Mrs. Harry White took me to St.

Bartholomew's, a modern church of great beauty. Dr. Parkes, a man of

authority and eloquence, preached from the fourth chapter of Galatians,

verse 6:

"And because ye are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into

your hearts."

I did not need to be a Scotch woman to listen to the sermon that he

preached. He said that we were fellow students graduating from a great

university, joined in the son-ship of Christ, and that we should

cultivate a spiritual fellowship with man, since the highest

personality could never develop by itself. That our names were entered

at our baptism; we received our first diplomas at our confirmation; and

the object and mission of the Church was to guide or coach us for the

various tests that life would demand from us; and that we should always

do what we could to help one another.

As I listened to the rector, knowing how easy I had found it in life to

love and care for other people, I wondered how many things I had left

undone, and what examination I could pass if suddenly called upon to

compete. Haunted from early youth by the transitoriness and pathos of

life, I was aware that it was not enough to say, "I am doing no harm," I

ought to be testing myself daily, and asking what I was really

achieving.

My attention having strayed from the sermon, I was glad to have it

recalled by hearing Dr. Parkes say that most people preferred the jazz,

the vaudeville, or the movies to the Church.

He said that he would step down for a moment into the pews and ask the

pulpit why the services were conventional, monotonous and uninspiring;

why the clergy gave unsuitable moral advice, warning the congregation of

dangers to which they were not exposed; expressing opinions on politics

which they did not share; and convincing them at the end of a tedious

service that under no circumstances would they go oftener to church than

they could possibly help.

"I will now return to the pulpit," he said; and I listened with close

attention.

It was true, the Church was often dull; but the attitude of the

congregation was wrong. They ought not to depend upon perpetual

entertainment. People went to church for various reasons. Some from

habit, some to set a good example, and a few with a yearning hope that

they might hear something to heal their tortured minds; something to

reassure them that since Jesus wept, He could not be far from those who

mourned. Few men were orators, and what filled the churches were the

sermons. People would tell you the service was enough, but it obviously

was not; or the churches would be crowded every Sunday.

"I have no doubt," he continued, "that I could entertain you for a time;

so could the choir and the fine organ, but I feel this would be wrong;

it would be taking away from the meaning of the service, and the

spiritual fellowship of man. Everyone ought to go to church, as

otherwise the churches would cease to exist, and the most irreligious of

men could hardly desire this. One day some young prophet or great

disciple of Christ might come among us and find no place from where he

could speak to the people, and no assemblage that he could address."

I went back to the hotel profoundly impressed by what I had heard and

not in the humour to be interviewed by a Philadelphian reporter who was

waiting to see me; but I found Mr. V. Hostetter both understanding and

intelligent.

* * * * *

The next day I went to Philadelphia. The unresponsiveness of my large

audience was more than made up for by the kindness of my chairman, Mr.

George Gibbs, the hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Ridgeway, and the

friendliness of the reporters. I doubt if my English was understood, in

spite of being informed that I could be heard plainly from the gallery.

Except at my first lecture--when I could not stand--I have had no

difficulty in making myself heard.

* * * * *

On my return to New York, after dining in bed, I joined my daughter at a

_bal poudre_ given by Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt, a clever New York

hostess who thinks nothing of entertaining a hundred and fifty people at

lunch, tea or dinner.

One of the noticeable differences between fashion in England and

America, is that what might appear to the uninitiated as an almost

exaggerated display of hospitality, is as _chic_ here as it might be

thought over-done in London. American hostesses are also very

particular as to precedence: who sits next to whom, or goes in first,

second or third. I must confess to being remiss in these ways, and when

an American lady at one of these dinners asked me if I minded my

daughter, Elizabeth Bibesco, going in or out--I forget which it was--in

front of me, I imagined she was joking. I disconcerted a reporter when

he asked me if I knew all the British aristocracy, by saying that alas!

I did not, but that my maid did.

Nothing could have been prettier than the Vanderbilt ball. I look

forward to seeing the house of my kind hosts under more normal

conditions, but I could see at a glance that it is not only full of rare

and valuable objects, but is really striking. The reception rooms,

concert hall, and ballrooms were crowded with fashion and beauty. I

gazed about to see if I could find anyone I knew. My eye fell upon my

daughter Elizabeth, who in her black velvet Aubrey Beardsley dress was

among the prettiest women in the room.

After trying unsuccessfully to detain my beloved friend Colonel

House--who hates parties--I caught sight of Mr. Balfour looking young

and happy. In spite of the admiring throng by whom he was surrounded I

skirmished through, and, taking him by the arm, engaged him in private

conversation. Being incapable of flattery, I told him with what

extraordinary ability he had represented Great Britain at the Washington

Conference; how glad we all were that he had been selected; and how

enchanted I was to see him. With the dazzling charm that never deserts

him he asked me searching questions as to how my lectures were

progressing, and implored me not to tire myself.

I answered that I was always over-tired, but said with truth that

neither he nor I would ever grow old.

No one can say that Mr. Balfour does not care for power and politics,

but a certain detachment has prevented him from growing old, and by what

means I cannot discover, he never appears to be bored in society; it is

this, I think, that keeps him young.

I know something about youth, as the Tennants are a race apart; not

because we are specially clever, learned, famous, or amusing, but

because we have no age. I have been told by gypsies, palmists,

phrenologists and other swindlers many senseless and incompatible

things, but upon two matters they all agreed. They said I would always

be young enough to make love and inspire it, and that I was unmercenary

and of a kindly disposition.

In these ways I resemble my father. Sleepless, irritable, impatient, and

interested, he could skip and dance at the age of sixty better than most

young men in their teens, and his last beautiful daughter was born when

he was eighty. This is not entirely physical: it comes no doubt from

vitality, but it is also a mixture of moral and intellectual

temperament, and, above all things, the power to admire, without which

Wordsworth says we cannot live.

After talking to Mr. Balfour, my host Mr. Vanderbilt--a man of

character, who cares little for entertainments--showed me his bedroom

and his library.

The morning after the ball I contracted a chill which filled me with

despair. Having to lecture that afternoon (my fifth in America and

second in New York), it was vital to remove the unfortunate impression

that sitting down and reading about horses had created upon my first

appearance. Unless my secretary cuts out and pins upon my letters press

criticisms of myself, I do not look at them, and I had hardly been aware

of the severity with which I had been taken to task the day after my

first lecture. People are too strong and busy in New York City to notice

if you are ill or not; they have paid their dollars and are not likely

to listen to what bores them; they wanted a little local gossip about my

husband, Mr. Lloyd George, or Princess Mary's trousseau. I did not mind

the abuse as I am press-proof, but I did not want to disappoint my

manager, Mr. Lee Keedick, a competent, kind man, quite unmercenary, and

interested in his client's success, as much from an artistic as a

business point of view; or my secretary, Mr. Horton, with whom I have

contracted a lasting friendship.

Knowing that I had to speak not only that afternoon but the next night

at Brooklyn, I reassured them by saying that in spite of my chill I was

going to stand, walk about and amuse the audience by stories of

Gladstone, Tennyson, Kitchener, politics, duels and drink. I did not add

that I was so nervous that I would have to hold my head up high as, if I

dropped it, I would certainly collapse.

My dear friend, Mr. Paul Cravath, in introducing me, made an admirable

speech and was more than helpful and encouraging.

I wish I could remember and write down what my chairmen say of me or of

my husband, but I am far too anxious to listen, and a cannon ball going

off would not prevent me from struggling to remember my speech, in spite

of knowing that "Ladies and Gentlemen" will be as far as my memory will

take me.

When I stood up, after bowing with challenging languor, I spoke in a

slow and deliberate manner which seemed as if it came from another

person. I never looked at my notes until the end of the lecture, and

after I sat down the audience was enthusiastic. My son-in-law, Prince

Bibesco, a man of acute and artistic observation, congratulated me

warmly, and speechless with exhaustion I went to bed.

The next morning my chairman sent me the following review out of the

_World_: "It Seems to Me," by HEYWOOD BROUN.

"The platform manner of Margot Asquith fills us with envy. We wish we

could talk as she does, casually leaning against a table. We must

confess to a limitless admiration for her technique. No visiting English

author in many seasons has seemed to us so entirely at home as was Mrs.

Asquith yesterday afternoon on the stage of the New Amsterdam Theatre.

Her utterance is crisp and clear, she is never under the necessity of

digging in her heels and shouting. As her point approaches she swings

into it, facing the audience square and standing straight. We admired

her versatility of delivery. There ought to be many clients eager to be

tutored by Mrs. Asquith in the art of public speaking."

* * * * *

If I could have met Mr. Broun that day my gratitude might have made me

feel well, but I had a temperature and my daughter having contracted

influenza, we were kept in bed and a trained nurse was sent to us by Dr.

Eglee.

* * * * *

On the eighth I spoke in Brooklyn, where, wrapped up in blankets, I was

accompanied in the motor by my doctor. I remained in bed until the 12th,

when I made my last appearance in New York. By then I had become quite

fashionable, and largely thanks to Mr. Heywood Broun, I received over

eighty letters a day, flowers, music, books, and poems. My daughter

Elizabeth's illness took away all my joy, and had it not been for her

husband and my cousin, Nan Tennant, illness and exhaustion would have

tempted me to break my contract.

V: THE WHITE HOUSE AND WASHINGTON

THE WHITE HOUSE AND WASHINGTON

PRESIDENT HARDING EASY TO TALK TO--MARGOT EXPLAINS ENGLISH

POLITICS--CHATS WITH WOODROW WILSON--IMPRESSED BY AMBASSADOR

JUSSERAND

I arrived at Washington on the 13th alone and spoke the same afternoon.

A Washington audience does not deafen you with applause, but Mr. Thomas

Hard, my chairman, was so appreciative that he seemed to set the fashion

to laugh and cheer and all went well.

On the following morning I went by appointment at 10.30 to see President

Harding. After driving to several wrong doors at the White House I was

shown into an ante-room full of press-men talking and smoking round an

open fire. The President's secretary was extremely courteous, and I was

not kept waiting. Ushered into Mr. Harding's fine circular room we shook

hands and sat down. A large black and tan Airedale terrier sniffed round

my skirts, and was ordered to sit in a chair by his master. President

Harding has a large bold head with well-cut features and an honest,

fearless address. He is tall, perfectly simple, and extraordinarily easy

and pleasant to talk to. He told me he also had lectured and gave me an

account of how lecturing had first started in America. There was a sort

of club or society which began round Lake Chautauqua and spread all over

the country. It was the only way that either pleasure or information

could reach distant and dreary little towns inhabited by thousands of

men and women who had neither the fortune or opportunity to meet famous

people. While he was telling me this I looked at the big writing table

in front of him. I noticed a faded photograph of an extremely pretty,

refined, middle-aged woman, and a framed engraving of George

Washington; on the top of a book case I observed an interesting print of

Abraham Lincoln. A fire in an open grate and large windows looking out

upon a garden with trees completed the room.

Our talk was interrupted by a secretary asking the President to speak on

the telephone, and he left me after a courteous apology.

On his return he found me looking at the photograph on his table, and

informed me that it was his mother. We spoke of Arthur Balfour and I

told him how pleased my husband and all of us in England were that he

had been able to go to Washington; that his quick mind, fine

intellectual manners, and lack of insularity gave him an unrivalled

understanding. The President responded with genuine warmth.

"I am very glad," he said, "that he attended our Conference. As you are

aware, Mrs. Asquith, he was known and liked here before the Conference,

and I can only say that he has added two hundred per cent to his former

popularity by the patience, tact, straightforwardness and ability he

showed throughout our proceedings."

He talked to me about the political situation in England, and asked when

I thought there would be a general election. I told him that the

Coalition Liberals were the ambitious, paying guests in a Conservative

Palace (or words to that effect); that in their recent attempt to force

a general election they had tried to purchase the Palace, but that to

their surprise and annoyance Sir George Younger--the keeper of the Tory

purse, and manager of their party--had, with a courage undreamt of by

his flock, put a veto upon this; and in a polite and public letter given

the Coalition Liberals notice to quit. This independent action upset the

influential Downing Street press, entertained the Free Liberals, and

bewildered the docile Conservatives. The latter having no Prime Minister

of their own, are not only deeply indebted to Mr. Lloyd George for all

he has done for them, but are committed to his leadership by the mutual

bargain of the Kaiser-coupon election.

I told him I had no notion when the election might be sprung upon us,

nor could anyone foresee its result, but that if there were many Sir

George Youngers in the Conservative Party it was just possible that the

Coalition might collapse.

We spoke of the Genoa Conference. I said that frankly I was tired of

Government by conference: that, starting from the fatal one at

Versailles, to the futile one at Cannes, they had been a source of

mischief, misunderstanding and recrimination; and that the only one at

which the truth had been faced, discussed and spread was his own at

Washington. I tried to give him some idea of the effect that Mr.

Hughes's opening speech upon disarmament had produced in our country,

adding how profoundly sorry I felt for France. Our "Hang-the-Kaiser,"

"Search the German pockets," election of 1918, backed as it was by the

whole Conservative party, had taken in the French public; and added that

half the irascibility, temper and suspicion which we were witnessing in

Paris to-day arose from a feeling that they had been cheated. I said

with all the earnestness that I could command that neither the Liberal

party, my husband, or anyone else in England intended to quarrel with

France; that it was equally clear that this view was held in America,

and therefore vital for the peace of the world that we should try and

understand one another and keep together.

He was eloquent in his agreement, told me how devoted he was to the

French people; and added that he felt quite sure the misunderstandings

would gradually pass away.

After signing and giving me a facsimile copy of the message which he had

delivered at the close of the Washington Conference, we parted.

I went to the Rock Creek Cemetery with my cousin, Nan Tennant, to see

the Adams tomb by St. Gaudens. It is a great work, and clutches at your

heart. I sat for some time on the circular marble seat and looked at

the beautiful bronze statue. It reminded me of the lines in Richard II:

"Oh! but they say the tongues of dying men

Enforce attention, like deep harmony."

Although the hooded and austere figure takes you far away from all that

moves, and is an emblem of Death, the deep and pitying eyes speak to

those who will listen both of Love and of Hope. I thought as I looked at

it, what a transfiguring effect a statue like that might have, could it

be removed to Paris or Berlin.

In the afternoon I visited ex-President Wilson. His wife greeted me with

kindness and affection, and immediately showed me into the library where

her husband was sitting erect upon a chair near the bookshelves. His eye

was bright, his mind clear, and no one looking at his distinguished face

could have imagined that he was ill. I could not conceal my emotion when

I told him how often we had thought of him. He seemed hopeful about

himself, and said he had still much to do, as there was a stern fight in

front of him. He asked me if I did not think things were looking better

for my husband and "your great party"; adding how closely, and with what

hope he and others were watching the present political situation in

England. I told him that he had had the one fine idea, and that all the

world was fumbling to follow in its track; adding that the League of

Nations was applauded upon every Liberal platform. He made me promise to

go and see him on my return to Washington, and after a short

conversation about nothing in particular, the fear of tiring him made me

get up and say good-bye.

I went on to the French Embassy where I spent over an hour with my old

friend M. Jusserand. I found him very unhappy: and when he discussed

with frankness and without exaggeration the feelings that were animating

Paris, I thought he made out an excellent case for what appears, for the

moment, to be a lack of reason in his compatriots. He showed me what

Lord Lee had said on Naval Limitation in December at Washington, where

he misquoted from Captain Castex's French articles on submarine

warfare, actually omitting from the context "_ainsi raisonnent les

Allemands_", which surprised me very much.

I said I was quite sure that there had been some mistake, and that our

Admiralty would instantly offer a public apology if the affair could be

brought to their notice; he said that on January 7 the Quai d'Orsay had

explained, but that nothing further had passed. That in the same article

of which Lord Lee had reversed the meaning, Captain Castex had made

pointed allusion "_au role de salubrite politique, sauvant la liberte du

monde, joue par la Grande Bretagne pendant la guerre_".

I told him that we were too far away to know what was happening, and

that it was more than probable that Lord Lee had already apologised;

that it was a deplorable blunder as the desire of the French to increase

their submarines was understood by the average Englishman to be a menace

against Great Britain, as presumably his country would never fight

Germany on the sea.

He said that every nation would have to maintain for itself some reserve

of force since they had agreed to a large diminution of their armies. I

begged him to be patient, and to remember that the 1918 election--so

painfully encouraging to the natural desire on the part of the French to

pursue a policy of revenge--was not a true reflection of British public

opinion; that perhaps we were lacking in imagination but we would never

believe in crushing a defeated foe, or trying to keep him down forever.

That since no one could get rid of the German race, and France had to

remain their neighbour, it appeared to be more sensible to try and

discourage hate which was unproductive; and that there was little choice

for them unless their intention was to prepare slowly and steadily for

another war. He disclaimed all idea of revenge, pointing out that we

were an island without frontiers, and that twice within the recollection

of one generation their industrious and arrogant neighbour had not only

killed their people, but laid waste their territory, and added that he

and his compatriots did not feel their moral and financial sufferings

had been treated either with sufficient sympathy or justice.

He argued extremely well, and I felt as I left him that we ought to do

everything possible to remove the suspicions, and heal the wounds, of a

country at whose side we have fought and died.

I dined that night in a company of fifty at the British Embassy and had

some talk with our Ambassador, Sir Auckland Geddes.

VI: DETROIT AND CHICAGO

DETROIT AND CHICAGO

GUEST OF WOMEN'S CLUB--VISITS FORD WORKS--LOVELY MRS.

MINOTTO--BONUS AND DISABLED SOLDIERS

The next morning we left Washington for Detroit, where I met with a warm

welcome and lectured with success. I was entertained by the Women's City

Club, at whose original invitation I had gone to Detroit. They were

interesting women who all had some work of their own to do, and talked

to me about serious matters with keenness and freedom. I told them, in

saying good-bye, that I had been honoured by meeting them at lunch, and

hoped some of them would write when they had time and tell me a little

more about their lives.

After lunch we motored in a beautiful Hudson car--lent to us through the

kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Chapin who had been introduced to me by my

artist friend Nellie Komroff--to the great Ford works at Highland Park.

I regret to say I have never understood machinery, and the deafening

noise, smell of oil, and endless walking exhausted me. I was also

unlucky in finding Mr. Ford away, as I would have much liked to have met

him. He is a man who has rendered a great service to his country, as he

has put at the disposal of nearly everybody automobiles of low price and

high quality.

* * * * *

We travelled that night to Columbus in the same sort of horrible

train--shaky, hot, and stopping outside before jerking into the

stations. Upon our arrival, a stranger came up to us on the platform and

said he hoped we would let him take us and our luggage to any place we

liked; that he had loved my book and was going to hear my lecture. We

were delighted to accept his invitation and were whizzed off to the

hotel. Mr. Jeffries, the owner of the motor, was more than kind and

enthusiastic. I tried to distinguish his handsome face in a ballroom

where I spoke in the evening, but he was in the gallery, and I was too

nervous to look much about me.

Ex-Governor Campbell made a witty introductory speech and encouraged my

listeners to ask me questions. When it was all over, I was surrounded by

various ladies and gentlemen of the audience who introduced themselves

and each other to me and asked if I would not eat ices and drink punch,

but I was dropping with fatigue and even my handsome friend who was full

of congratulations, could not prevent me from staggering off to bed.

I had received a wire from my manager begging me to go by the 7 a.m.

train next morning to Chicago in time to see the reporters in the

evening. The prospect of this gave me a sleepless night, especially as I

was disturbed, first at midnight by a messenger boy with an album which

he wished me to sign, and again at two in the morning by the night

watchman who said I had neglected to lock my door. I used

un-parliamentary language, telling him that nothing would induce me to

lock my door, and after an unsuccessful attempt to settle down, I turned

on the light and read "If Winter Comes."

The originality and pathos of this wonderful study reduced me to tears

and, more dead than alive, at 5.30 a.m. I told my maid I would have my

bath.

The reporters at Chicago were very civil and, interspersed with

flash-lights, I got through the interviews as well as I could. One of

the young ladies, following me to the lift, said:

"I wish you hadn't been so charming and polite. I would like you to have

just rushed at me and pulled my hair out so that I could have got the

story."

I looked at her in surprise and disgust as Mr. Horton elbowed me into

the lift.