two sitting members for Ottawa,--Mr. Hal McGiverin; the Hon. Dr. Henri
Beland (Minister of Soldiers Civil Re-establishment), who had been a
distinguished physician in Belgium when the war broke out. He wrote "A
Thousand and One Days in a Berlin Prison" after having been taken
prisoner by the Germans and confined for over three years. During his
incarceration his wife died in Belgium, and he was not permitted to
attend her death-bed or her funeral. The Hon. George Graham, Minister of
Militia, whose only son was killed in the War; the Hon. Sir Lomar Gouin,
Minister of Justice, and the only other lady, Mrs. G. B. Kennedy, made
up our luncheon party. We had general conversation, which my stepson
Raymond once described as a series of "ugly rushes and awkward pauses",
but on this occasion it was successful, as we discussed among other
subjects politics and literature.
I asked my neighbour what the statue was which commanded such a
wonderful view near the Houses of Parliament. He said it was "Sir
Galahad," and had been erected in memory of a deed of heroism, and had
no other inscription upon it. He told me a young man called Henry
Albert Harper was skating with a friend when he observed a couple in
front of him disappear into the river at a sudden break in the ice. He
sent his companion to the shore for help, and lying down, stretched out
his walking stick to see if the lady in the water, or her friend, could
catch hold of it. Seeing that this was impossible, as they neither of
them could reach it, he rose to his feet and took off his coat. The
other skaters implored him not to attempt to rescue them as it meant
certain death.
"What else can I do?" said young Harper, and plunged into the icy
current. Their dead bodies were found the next morning.
Hearing that Mr. MacKenzie King had written a memoir of Harper--who had
been his greatest friend--I begged him to give me a copy of it. He sent
it to me with his autograph in it, and asked me to sign his volume of my
own autobiography. I was truly sorry to say good-bye to the Canadian
Premier.
We returned to Montreal the next morning where I found my room a garden
of flowers given to me by Mrs. Reed, Mrs. Lawford and Lady Drummond. I
addressed a ballroom that night full of empty chairs and chandeliers,
but was consoled by my flowers, and the ladies with whom I afterwards
went to supper; and I hope and think I have made lasting friendships
with Mrs. Hayter Reed and Mrs. Lawford.
Mrs. Reed told me that the little son of friends of hers who had always
refused to meet a Jew, had disconcerted them, one day, by saying in a
reproachful voice,
"Mother, you never told me Jesus Christ was a Jew."
Seeing a distressed expression upon his mother's face, he added
consolingly: "But it doesn't matter, since God was a Presbyterian."
Lying awake that night, I wondered what I would have felt had I married
a man who had consented to be either Governor General of Canada or
Viceroy of India. I can imagine no career, excepting perhaps that of a
minor royalty, that I would have minded as much. Not all the great
functions, personal prestige, wonderful scenery, pig-sticking in the
East, or skating in the Dominion, would make up to me for friendships
without intimacy, and grandeur without gaiety. I came to the conclusion
that only men of a certain kind of vanity and ambition, or animated by
the highest sense of public duty could ever be found to fill these
honourable positions.
X: REFLECTIONS AT LARGE
REFLECTIONS AT LARGE
DRAWBACKS OF AMERICAN JOURNALISM--SENSATIONAL HEADLINES; FEAR OF
THE PRESS--CONTROVERSY ON PROHIBITION WITH LORD LEE--IMPRESSIONS OF
U. S. SENATE
We breakfasted at 5.30 a.m. the next morning and arrived at New York at
ten that night, to be greeted by a room full of press men. When the
female reporters begin by saying to me:
"What, Mrs. Asquith, do you think, with your close acquaintance with the
many trends of the working of a woman's mind, of the modern probability
etc., etc.," I am reminded of Sir Walter Raleigh's excellent phrase,
"Stumbling upwards into vacuity."
One of these eager ladies, checking her more intelligent male
companions, said:
"Tell me, Mrs. Asquith, is it not true that you are indifferent to the
opinion of any living person and enjoy saying smart and daring things?"
I replied:
"Indeed no! I leave that to you."
I told them about MacKenzie King, of whom they had never heard, and what
Mr. Horton and I had observed in our travels of the abominable
consequences of Prohibition. I said it was a measure of such exaggerated
interference with private liberty that no truthful person could call
America a free country.
On my arrival I found many letters from England on the political crisis;
and if I can judge at such a distance, the Coalition seems doomed.
Believing as I always have in party government as the best solution for
democracy, I think Sir George Younger deserves a Victoria Cross, and it
will be interesting to see how many of the timid Conservatives will
regain sufficient courage to follow him. The mischief that is being made
between my husband and Lord Grey leaves me cold.
Their friendship is not of a kind to be easily severed, and the House of
Lords and the House of Commons are separate institutions.
Trammelled as I have always been by an unfortunate combination of
truthfulness and impatience, and exhausted by the journey of eighteen
hours, I was afraid I had been neither genial nor informing to the
reporters upon my arrival in New York, but on looking at the papers next
morning I found they had treated me with friendliness and courtesy.
Journalism over here is not only an obsession but a drawback that cannot
be over-rated. Politicians are frightened of the press, and in the same
way as bull-fighting has a brutalising effect upon Spain (of which she
is unconscious), headlines of murder, rape, and rubbish, excite and
demoralise the American public.
I would like to make it clear that it is not the reporters but the
owners of the papers that should be censured. With the exception of a
few garrulous and gushing geese, who think it smart to ask pert and
meaningless questions, the male reporters that I have met have not only
been serious and intelligent, but men with whom I have discussed
literature, politics and religion; but it would not pay their editors, I
presume, to publish conversations of this character. On the front page
of even the best newspapers, paragraph after paragraph is taken up by
descriptions in poor English of devastating trivialities. Violent and
ignorant young men, or "flappers"--in whom the public here seem to take
an unnatural interest--might easily suppose that their best chance of
success in life lay in creating a sensation. Of what use can it be to
create a sensation? Who profits by it? What influence can this sort of
thing have upon the morals of a great and vital nation? If Christ with
His warnings against worldliness were to come down to-day, after giving
Him one hearing the crowd would not crucify Him, they would shoot Him at
sight.
You have only to examine the newspaper comments upon Abraham Lincoln to
see that even in those days abuse and misrepresentation were popular. He
was persecuted and vilified every day of his life; but, like my husband,
he was press-proof.
If editors would only realise it, following public opinion instead of
guiding it is ultimately dull, and makes monotonous reading.
In England we are trying to raise our journalistic standards to the
level of the United States, but, without claiming undue superiority, I
do not think we shall succeed. There is enough common sense among our
people to mitigate against any such misfortune, and we have only to
recall the general election of 1905-6, when every morning paper in
London, except the _Daily News_, was against us, to realise the
impotence of the press.
Fear is as unproductive as it is contemptible, and until some big man
has the courage to break the power of the press in America, progress
will always go beyond civilisation.
* * * * *
I motored in evening dress for three hours to a suburb of New York. I
am so tired of the abominable trains that an aeroplane or a perambulator
would be a relief, and the road to Montclair was full of interest. The
sky was throbbing with carmine and gold, and the varying lights of green
and white, reflected in a river sentinelled on either side by high black
buildings and pointed towers, left an impression on me of Whistler-like
beauty.
We dined with excited and hospitable people and I lectured to an
enthusiastic audience. I do not know how it is with professional
speakers, but with the amateur the chairman and the audience make the
speech. The Rev. Swan Wiers introduced me in an address of eloquence for
which I thanked him warmly.
I arrived in Providence next day to be interviewed by three young
ladies. After the usual questions upon Princess Mary's underwear and the
"flappers," one of them said she had come to ask me about England's
greatest man. I told her we had so many that I would be grateful if she
could indicate the one she meant.
"Will you tell me who your great men are?" she answered.
"Well," I said, "we have Hardy, Kipling, Lord Morley, Lord Grey, Lord
Buckmaster, and Mr. Balfour."
"Oh, no!" she replied, "I want to hear all about Lloyd George."
"I fear you will have to read about him yourself," I said, "and if you
can wade through the daily columns of films, flappers, murders and
headlines, over here, to our anonymous gossip about Downing Street in my
country, you may discover what you want to know."
The other ladies intervened when she retorted:
"Then you refuse to tell me?" and as--the electric light having gone out
all over the hotel--we were squinting at a single candle, I thought it
as well to put an end to their intelligent questions.
The Providence audience consisted mostly of empty chairs, but it was an
enormous hall and when the lecture was over a few of the five hundred
listeners came up to ask me to sign my name in various albums and on
slips of paper. They said:
"You have given us such a wonderful lecture to-night that you must come
back here." To which I replied smilingly:
"Never in this world! To speak for an hour and fifteen minutes to people
who never clap is like hitting one's head against a wall." At which one
of the ladies said:
"You are quite right, Mrs. Asquith, there is great apathy and lack of
manners in Providence."
"Why should you clap," I said, "if you are not interested?" At this they
all protested.
"We were afraid of missing a word of what we were enjoying," said one
charming woman, to which I replied:
"I would have stood as still as a statue if one of you had thought of
cheering me!"
We took the midnight train to New York where we arrived at six the next
morning, and I felt that I was returning home.
On March 8, the _New York Times_ published on its front page:
"LORD LEE DEFENDS AMERICAN YOUNG
WOMEN
"Mrs. Asquith's Charges Cruel, Ludicrous,
and Untrue!"
"Speaking at the English-speaking Union luncheon, Lord Lee said the
statement attributed to the famous country-woman of his now in the
United States was as cruel as it was ludicrous and untrue. He added that
he could testify from thirty years of personal observation in America,
and from reliable information from various quarters; and that he was
speaking seriously."
Lord Lee has only got to travel over here for ten days to change his
opinion. I, also, am speaking seriously, and am strongly in favour of
temperance. Liquor control has been, among many other reforms, the
political ambition of my husband ever since he became a Cabinet
Minister, but as what is called "the Trade" has the votes and blessing
of the Conservative Party in England, all our bills to control it were
frustrated by the House of Lords.
We drink less than our forbears, not because we are more moral, but for
reasons of health. Our people are fond of sport; and you neither shoot
or ride as straight if you indulge in champagne, port, liqueurs,
brandies, and other drinks over night.
The first question I was asked when I landed upon American soil was
whether I approved of Prohibition. I said I thought it was a fine idea
and an example that would ultimately be followed by the whole world; I
presumed that light wines and beer would in time modify this somewhat
exaggerated measure; but as most of the men convicted of crimes of
violence had been proved to be under the influence of liquor, the
prisons and asylums would gradually be emptied. I added that many of the
famous, as well as young men of promise, and some of the best servants I
had known in my life had been ruined by drink, and that it was a subject
upon which I felt deeply.
I could see at once that what I said was unpopular, but I repeated the
same opinion in all my early lectures, adding that gout, rheumatism,
arthritis, and other nervous diseases have been, if not contracted,
certainly assisted by alcoholic poisoning inherited from generations of
men who drank too much.
A very short visit over here has convinced me that Prohibition, as at
present administered, is both "ludicrous and cruel." The well-to-do can
get the drinks they want. Young men and women, as well as adults, share
with their friends and admirers all the pleasures that go with defying
the law. I have no doubt from what I have been told that the power of
the Saloon League lobby had to be smashed, and that the men who
accomplished it deserve the highest praise, but can anyone truly say the
Prohibition law is kept? Are Mr. Volstead or Mr. Pussyfoot Johnson
satisfied with the present condition of things in their country?
There is a text in St. John,
"The Truth shall make you free."
There is no lack of truth over here, but there is a lack of freedom, and
I think the press which is kept informed of what is going on might do
much more than it does with its powers upon this subject.
It cannot be right for young people to see their parents and friends
cheating the law every day of their lives. And which of them think of
cheering up the poor, who presumably get as tired from their work as the
idle get from their pleasures! What I have said upon every platform and
which Lord Lee, in a generous desire to defend the youth of this
country, denies, is not "cruel, ludicrous, and untrue," but a platitude.
I have received signed letters from every quarter of the country
thanking me for expressing my opinion, and will quote from one of them:
"_New York City_, March 9, 1922.
"MADAM,
"If you wish for very substantial proof of the exactitude of your remark
that maidens get drunk at dances, all you have to do is to send
someone, unobtrusively, to [I am not going to give the name of the
place] to obtain from the waiters and waitresses an account of the
lamentable condition in which scores of the girls were taken home after
two recent balls held in the Hotel ----, one of the most fashionable
hotels in the suburbs of New York.
"It was not the fault of the management, and I am told no more dances of
the sort will be permitted there.
"I am a very disgusted sister of one of the young girls, and am trying
hard to dissuade her from accepting intoxicants at these parties. Yours,
etc."
[I will not publish the signature.]
This is only one of many letters I have received on the same subject.
After the _New York Times_ had published Lord Lee's statement and I had
made my position perfectly clear, I was sent a press cutting, from what
paper I do not know.
"Margot Lines Up with Foes of Prohibition: she has swung round to the
anti-prohibitionists."
This is characteristic of the inaccuracy of the American press. Editors
do not distinguish between half notes and full shouts, but no one need
take this seriously as crime and headlines will soon make their readers
forget either what Lord Lee has said, or I have controverted.
On the 10th my daughter Elizabeth took me to a fashionable charity fete
in a large New York ballroom, where I heard my son-in-law speak for the
first time. I envied him his self-possession; for, though I am told that
my demeanor does not betray me, I am so nervous before the so-called
"lectures" that I eat nothing, and so exhausted after, that the mildest
meal gives me indigestion.
Having suffered from audiences that, while more than appreciative,
seldom clap, Mrs. Frank Polk and I were determined that Antoine Bibesco
should not experience the same embarrassment. Our friendly intentions
were frustrated, however, as everything he said was received with
enthusiasm. His handsome face and fine manners, and the popularity of
his wife (though it is not usual to praise one's daughter) have made
them much loved in this hospitable country.
On leaving the entertainment I was way-laid by a female reporter:
"Is it not true that but for his Highness Prince Bibesco you would never
have published your diaries, Mrs. Asquith?" she asked. To which I
replied:
"I have not published my diaries. I have written the first volume of my
autobiography, encouraged by some of my friends--but no one has
criticised my literary efforts with more perspicacity and insight than
my son-in-law."
"Can you not give me a story for my paper?" she said.
The gallantry of Mr. Nelson Cromwell, and presence of mind of Mrs. Frank
Polk rescued me from further conversation.
Mr. Clarence Mackay invited me to a concert in his beautiful house after
dinner, where I met some of the American men that I am most devoted
to--Mr. Polk, our ex-Ambassador Mr. Davis, and Colonel House. I sat
next to the latter with whom I had a good talk and, what with hearing
Kreisler--the greatest living violinist--and being in a position to
observe the glowing enthusiasm of Elizabeth and the melancholy
expression of her husband, I was consoled for the midnight journey which
we took to Washington when the party was over.
My love for my grand-baby, the titter of talk, the tissue paper of
unpacking outside my door, and the miawling of "Minnie" the cat,
prevented me from resting upon my arrival in the morning, and when I
went to the Senate after lunch I could hardly keep awake. The Four Power
Treaty was being discussed, but the debate was languid, and more seats
were unoccupied than Senators speaking.
Except for a tribune, the Senate reminds me of the _Chambre_ in Paris.
Everyone walks about, and you cannot be sure that any of the Senators
will speak from the seat that they occupied the day before, which makes
it rather confusing to a stranger.
At 4.30 I went to see Mr. Hughes in the Department of State. He is
remarkably handsome and has not only a striking intelligence, but
charming manners. We said nothing worth recording. I told him what,
alas! he must have heard a thousand times: the profound impression that
his opening speech on Disarmament at the Washington Conference had
created in my country, if not all over the world; and what perhaps he
did not know so well, that there never was a closer feeling than that
which exists between England and America to-day.
When I say this with all the eloquence I can command at every lecture,
though it is always cheered, it is seldom reported, and I read in one of
the papers:
"What Mrs. Margot Asquith said about the hand-clasp of Great Britain and
the United States is doubtful if not conventional," I am glad to be
called conventional, but what I say is not doubtful; it is true.
I see that in one of Byron's recently published letters, he writes to
Lady Melbourne:
"I wish that ... would not speak his speech at the Durham meeting above
once a week after its first delivery.
"Ever yours most nepotically,
"B."
But in spite of Byron's wise warning I repeat the same thing in every
lecture, because I feel passionately that it is not only important that
the English-speaking nations should stand side by side, but vital to the
Peace of Europe, and I am far from original in thinking it.
XI: SYRACUSE AND BUFFALO
SYRACUSE AND BUFFALO
CITY OF CULTURE AND BEAUTY--NIAGARA'S NATURAL BEAUTY MARRED BY
BILLBOARDS--MARGOT READS ABOUT HERSELF
On March 13 my daughter and her husband motored me to Baltimore where,
after speaking to a responsive audience, we took the midnight train to
Utica, and went from there to the Onondaga Hotel at Syracuse. This is a
university city of culture and beauty, and I wished I had had time to
see more of it.
I was introduced to my audience by Dean Richards, a lady of ability and
high standing in the college, and several people came up and spoke to me
behind the scenes when the lecture was over.
I have received many remarkable letters and invitations in every city I
have visited, not only to lunch and dine, but even to stay in private
houses. Had I but realised the great distances over here when I left
England, I would have started earlier, and made a longer tour, but I am
going home for my son's Easter holidays and have therefore been obliged
to refuse much hospitality. In case anyone reads these impressions, I
would like them to know how deeply their spontaneous generosity has
touched me. I will quote a letter which was put into my hands at
Syracuse:
March 13, 1922.
"_Mrs. Asquith_,
"DEAR MADAM,
"When a person has bestowed upon another a gift--such as 'The Diary of
Margot Asquith'--ought not the favoured one to give an expression of
appreciation to the donor? I think so. And this conviction must be the
excuse for my making so bold as to address you, Mrs. Asquith, to thank
you for giving us--who live in so different a world to that of yours--a
glimpse of your spirit, so colorful, so vivid, so noble. And the charm
of it is that this color, vividness, verve, and charm is not carried
consciously and heavily--but is borne lightly, charmingly, like an
ornament,--a jewel.
"I am not young, nor given to raptures; I am older than you, and I am
only thanking you for the radiance your writings have thrown upon my
life; and when to-morrow night I see and hear you at the Opera House in
Syracuse, you may perhaps care to know that one among many happy people
is enjoying a completeness she had not dreamed would come to her.
"With all good wishes to Mrs. Asquith here on our shores, and beyond the
sea, I am,
"Sincerely yours,
"E. A. S----."
There have been other letters I would like to quote, but for fear of
boring my readers I will end with the following, written from Chicago,
"_To Margot Asquith_,
"I read your volume a year ago and at once decided if it was a girl I
would call her 'Margot.'
"Tuesday night at Orchestra Hall I heard and saw you. Your enthusiasm,
your zest for life, the airy grace of your movements, and the charm of
your smile will live in my memory always.
"Here's hoping that some of the wealth of your qualities will go with
the name 'Margot' to my little one.
"May you live long, Margot Asquith, is the wish of,
"M. M. F.----."
On the 16th we arrived at Buffalo, where, after seeing the usual army of
photographers and reporters, we motored twenty-five miles out to
Niagara.
I had always imagined the drive to the Falls would have been long, slow,
dangerous, and steep; that this amazing spectacle must be situated in a
wild and lonely place, with possibly one romantic hotel encircled by
balconies for the convenience of tourists who had travelled from great
distances to see it; whereas it is approached by a straight, flat, and
crowded road, with tram-cars pursuing their steady course the whole way
from Buffalo City. The Niagara Falls, so far from being in a lonely
spot, are surrounded by gasometers, steel factories, and chimney pots.
Of their beauty and magnificence it would be as ridiculous as it would
be presumptuous for me to write, but when my maid said she had expected
them to be more "outlandish," I did not contradict her.
Mr. Horton's brother told me of an Irishman who, on being asked to
express his opinion, answered, "I don't see what is to prevent the water
from going over," but I felt almost too depressed to laugh.
You might have supposed that the whole neighbouring population would
have risen like an army to protest against a hideous city of smoke and
steel being erected round the glorious Falls of Niagara, and it was
characteristic of the population of Buffalo that our chauffeur did not
pull up at the Falls, but, upon our stopping him, said he had presumed
we wanted to go to the power station.
If I ever return to America, I should not be surprised if a line of
safe-sailing steamships had been engineered to go down the Niagara
Falls.
I do not think that in Scotland either the country of Scott or the
Ettrick shepherd, nor the passes of Killiecrankie or Glencoe, will ever
be deformed for commercial purposes.