at chapter seven, I think--I have not the book by me--you will see how
the present crisis and the probable termination of it are fulfilling the
prediction I made.
“I really do not know which to pity most, the English who hate war and
who would do anything in honor to avoid it--dragged to war and future
trouble against their will--or the Boers, whose stupid obstinacy is
likely to be their ruin.
“A few years ago, before the Jameson raid, Kruger said, ‘I will never
give you anything, and now let the storm burst.’
“It is a bad-tempered man who said that, and Kruger’s bad temper is the
most prominent characteristic of his nature. His sheer bad temper has
caused all this row and will eventually bring him to shame unless, may
the gods grant it, he is thoroughly frightened by a stronger, sterner,
fiercer will.
“I have known individuals like Kruger before, and though their obstinate
wills seemed adamantine, many yielded before a greater and superior
will.
“The South African war--should it take place--will prove the salvation
of South Africa, if it is conducted rightly. We should have an
overwhelming force over there, and the utmost energy should be employed
to bring it to a perfect finale, where all white should be free and
equal. The country should be given up to the people, and outsiders
should refrain from meddling in their affairs.”
* * * * *
At social functions given by the press in his honor Stanley was always
at his best. He appeared among newspaper men as perfectly at home--one
of the profession, claiming no honors or no place that could or would
not be attained by any live journalist should the occasion offer. It is
this attitude that so helped to make of him in America the favorite hero
of the pressmen of the land.
GEORGE KENNAN was introduced to me by Mr. Roswell Smith, President of
the Century Co. His letters on Siberia were appearing in _The Century
Magazine_ and creating a great deal of interest.
Mr. Smith called on me one morning. I was somewhat under the weather,
having been ill for some time. He asked me if I had heard of George
Kennan. I told him I had known more or less of Mr. Kennan; that he had
been a lecturer in a small way before he went to Siberia. Mr. Smith told
me that Kennan’s articles, he believed, had more than doubled the
circulation of the magazine, and that one or two editions had already
been exhausted and they were obliged to reproduce them. He suggested
that I secure Mr. Kennan for some lectures, and gave me his address.
[Illustration]
I immediately wrote him asking if he would lecture, and got a favorable
reply. I also sent out “feelers” to my customers, and to my surprise
applications came pouring in from all parts of the country. I saw that
success was almost certain, and proposed to Mr. Kennan a certain sum of
money for two hundred lectures. I offered him $100 a lecture--$20,000
for two hundred lectures--and to pay all of his expenses, which he
accepted.
It was the season of 1889 and 1890. Mr. Kennan was in wretched health
during the entire tour, devoting his nights to writing letters and
sending his earnings to the poor Siberian exiles whom he had known in
that country. He was loaded down, and almost broken down, with sympathy
for the poor people, whose cause he was so ably championing in this
country. But notwithstanding all of his other work, Mr George Kennan
travelled and lectured two hundred consecutive secular nights,
travelling almost every day. Not an audience was disappointed nor a
railroad connection missed.
Mr. Kennan cleared $20,000 that season from his lectures. The next
season he did a very handsome business, and could have been much more
popular had it not been for the revolting stories he told of the
wretched condition of those suffering Siberian exiles. Many of his
stories were heart-sickening, and for that reason, I believe, more than
any other, he is not to-day the most popular lecturer in America. His
excellent voice, charm of manner, and grace of diction are all that is
best in a platform speaker.
Frederick Villiers, war artist, can lay claim to a more varied
experience in the field than perhaps any of his fellows. The intimate
friend of Archibald Forbes in seven campaigns, the fourth man in the
quartette of war artists that followed the Russian army to the gates of
Constantinople, he has also done service in Afghanistan, in Egypt, in
the Soudan, in Servia, in Burmah; and everywhere he has been in the
thickest of the fight.
[Illustration]
Of the group of war artists and correspondents in the battle of
Metemmeh, on the Nile, and the Egyptian campaign, he alone escaped
unscathed, while J. A. Cameron, of the London _Standard_; St. Leger
Herbert, of the London _Morning Post_; Capt. W. H. Gordon, of the
Manchester _Guardian_; Col. Fred Burnaby, of the _Morning Post_, and
Edward O’Donovan, of the London _Daily News_, were killed outright, and
Colonel Burleigh, of the London _Daily Telegraph_, was wounded. Mr.
Villiers was the only European war artist in the war between Japan and
China.
In 1895 he started from New York on a lecture tour through America and
Canada, and visited Australasia, lecturing in all the principal towns of
Australia, New Zealand and Tasmania. He eventually returned to England
via the Cape, lecturing in Cape Colony and the Transvaal, and
completing his second tour around the world.
In the following year he visited Moscow a second time, for the
coronation of the present Emperor, Nicholas II. In 1897 he acted as
special correspondent for _The Standard_ with the Greek army, and for
that paper and _The Illustrated London News_ during the 1897 Soudan
campaign.
He has been all through the recent Nile expedition, and was present at
the capture of Khartoum in his capacity of correspondent for the _Globe_
and _Illustrated London News_. When the South African War broke out Mr.
Villiers was lecturing in Australia, with a tour booked around the world
via Japan and across the American continent. He cancelled a long list of
engagements from California to New England and went back to the latest
war as correspondent for his London papers. He has again returned to
England and is now lecturing on the Boer war. Villiers is one of the
heroes of the present century.
A man of remarkable coolness, he never flinched under fire and was
always able to seize a vantage point for his work without undue
recklessness. He was the artist and writer at all times in the field,
never a volunteer fighter; but always ready to help the wounded, if
near, and occasion offered. Perhaps no man in his chosen work was always
so ready for departure and so instantly able to compass the best methods
of reaching his destination and of getting at work upon arrival. An
excellent speaker, simple and straightforward, with much to tell, he
goes at his audience just as he works on the scenes before him when on
the march or under fire.
Dr. Frederick A. Cook, of Brooklyn--physician, anthropologist, Arctic
and Antarctic explorer, author and lecturer--has not only made an
enviable reputation for himself along each of these varied lines, but is
personally one of the most charming of men. He is as modest and
unassuming as he is accomplished, although he has succeeded in doing
some things which no other man before him ever did. From nearly 80
degrees north latitude to 71 degrees 36 minutes south latitude is a long
distance for a north-and-south journey, but Dr. Cook can say, as no
other man living can: “I have done it.”
[Illustration]
He filled the position of surgeon and anthropologist with Peary’s first
Arctic expedition in 1891, and during 1893 and 1894 he was engaged in
explorations of the west coast of Greenland. Again in 1897 he joined the
Belgian expedition which sailed on the _Belgica_ to explore the
Antarctic continent and channels, being the only American in the party.
For thirteen months their ship drifted in the pack ice, in which she had
been caught, and was finally got out only by sawing a channel through
the ice nine miles long. This expedition was the first, and Dr. Cook was
the only American, that ever camped and sledged on the Antarctic
continent.
While in these far southern latitudes, Dr. Cook, as anthropologist to
the expedition, visited and described a cannibal tribe from whom no
previous scientist had escaped alive.
His lecture descriptive of his adventures has proven one of the most
interesting yet offered to the lyceum. It is illustrated with
photographs taken by the doctor himself, and these are as beautiful as
they are unlike any others ever shown to the public.
Dr. Cook is gifted with a fascination of description and a powerful
voice which make his lecture even more interesting, if possible, than to
read of his thrilling adventures in his book, recently published.
Among polar explorers I do not regard any one as more bold, more to be
depended upon for accuracy of statement, or whose scientific training
better fits him rightly to appreciate the value of each new fact
discovered, than Dr. Frederick A. Cook, our fellow-countryman.
Robert E. Peary, Civil Engineer, U. S. Navy, returned in the autumn of
1892 from his second Arctic exploration, bringing with him a number of
dogs, the sledges on which he made his journeys, and a collection of
Esquimau souvenirs, such as sledges, dog harness, clothing, tents,
spears, fishing tackle, cooking utensils, and furniture, and gave an
exhibition in the Academy of Music, Philadelphia, under the auspices of
the Academy of Science. I attended the lecture, or rather, exhibition.
Mr. Peary appeared in his Arctic costume, with the dogs, sledges, tents,
weapons, bear skins, and seal furs in great quantity and variety on the
stage--a sort of Esquimau village. It was an interesting exhibit. Mr.
Peary gave a delightful lecture, illustrated with some of the finest
stereoscopic views of Arctic scenery I had ever seen presented, views
which he had himself taken while on the expedition.
[Illustration]
I tried my best to secure Mr. Peary for some lectures in New York,
Boston, and other cities, but, being an officer of the Government and
under orders, it was impossible to secure him. Later on he obtained
leave of absence and permission to fit out a second expedition, and he
could lecture from January until April, so I arranged for what proved to
be one of the most vigorous lecture campaigns that I had ever managed up
to that time.
We began in the Academy of Music, Brooklyn, and up to the first of April
(one hundred and three days) Mr. Peary gave one hundred and sixty-five
lectures. The five dogs were as much a drawing feature as Peary himself,
and were a great advertising card, especially where there was sleighing,
as Henson, Mr. Peary’s colored servant, who had accompanied him on the
expedition, hitched them up and drove them about the cities wherever
they went, attracting the attention and wonder of the entire
communities. They seemed to take as much interest in the show as they
probably had shown in their great overland journeys across the Greenland
Ice Cap with their master. The dogs were very fond of being petted, and
liked ladies and children. After the lecture they were brought on the
stage and the children in the audience were allowed to rush forward and
meet them. There was never an instance of the dogs showing the slightest
ill temper or of objecting to be caressed or fed by the auditors. One
remarkable thing about the dogs was that they would insist upon their
rights and their share of the entertainment. They would wait very
patiently until the time for Mr. Peary to finish, but if he happened to
speak a little longer than the usual time, the dogs would set up a howl
so that he would have to stop. They never became uneasy until their own
time arrived.
It was a general tour, and Mr. Peary visited most of the large cities,
two lectures a day. It was a great combination. Of all the tours I ever
had the pleasure of managing none met with greater success on a short
notice than this one. The profits for those few weeks were about
$18,000. Yet Mr. Peary was disappointed, for he was fitting out a second
Arctic expedition and needed something like $80,000 for his scheme. He
admitted that under any other circumstances he would have considered the
tour one of the most successful in the world, but because he could not
make $2,000 or $3,000 a day it seemed a loss of time to him, and he was
obliged to resort to other means to raise the funds that he needed.
However, Mr. Peary never once complained, I never heard him speak an
unkind word either to the employees or to his dogs. He is a great
worker. His stenographer and typewriter accompanied him, and he carried
on an immense correspondence, together with his other work, perfecting
all plans for his expedition.
He met with many misfortunes on the second expedition of twenty-five
months’ stay in North Greenland in 1893-95, and his return to the
lecture field proved not very remunerative. No doubt this was partly due
to the fact that he undertook to give simply illustrated lectures,
without the dogs and the other attractions which he had on the previous
tour.
[Illustration]
Mr. Peary is one of the finest descriptive lecturers we have ever had,
with his heart and soul in his work. If he succeeds in reaching the Pole
(which we shall probably know before this book goes to press), then he
will be the biggest attraction in the world. Otherwise, he will be
classed as one of the great Arctic heroes who did his best and knows how
to relate the accounts of his heroic adventures to as many auditors as
still retain interest in Arctic explorations. Peary is a
nineteenth-century hero, and will continue to push on because he cannot
stop.
In writing this book, I am not making a programme, preparing a circular,
or giving a list of speakers and entertainers. I recall only those names
and work that come back most impressively, and any omission is not from
lack of appreciation, but one of memory only. Yet though the walls are
crowded, there is still room to give a name to one of the bravest.
Another of the beloved women yet remains among us. My reference is to
Mrs. Peary, the wife of the famous Arctic explorer. She has not
intellectual capacity alone, but more than womanly courage, as is proven
by the years spent in Greenland wastes of ice and snow, the first woman
of Caucasian stock known to have wintered within the Arctic Circle.
Later, the same high devotion made her take up the no less exacting task
of raising funds for her husband’s relief, the return of his belated
expedition and the saving thereby of the important scientific results
and personal fruits of the great and toilsome, as well as dangerous
exploration work he has set himself to accomplish. Mrs. Peary entered
the lecture field to accomplish and achieve this work of relief. She did
it, too, and in so doing showed possession of a speaking talent that
would have made her a permanent success.
Capt. Joshua Slocum, who conceived the idea that he could sail alone
around the world, is about the newest and most remarkable of the small
list of hazardous adventurers who have _done something that no other man
has succeeded in accomplishing_, and thereby acquired world-wide fame.
He is well entitled to a place alongside the heroes Peary, Nansen, and
Dr. Cook.
[Illustration]
Captain Slocum comes of “a blue-nosed ancestry, with Yankee
proclivities,” as he puts it. “Both sides of my family were sailors,”
says the captain “and if any Slocum should be found not seafaring, he
will show at least an inclination to whittle models of boats and
contemplate voyages. My father was the sort of man who, wrecked on a
desolate island, would find his way home if he had a jack-knife and
could find a tree.”
After following the sea twenty years as a shipmaster and losing his
bark, _Aquidneck_, wrecked on the coast of Brazil, and making the voyage
home with his family in a canoe, Captain Slocum conceived the idea of
building a boat and sailing alone around the world. He accomplished this
remarkable feat, built the _Spray_ entirely with his own hands,
launched, equipped, and sailed her by himself, over forty thousand
miles, visiting many foreign ports, to the great amazement of the
natives of every clime. In his voyage around Cape Horn there were over
seventy days during which he never heard a sound except his own voice,
the wind, and the lapping of the waves.
What is most remarkable of all is that Captain Slocum is able to write
and describe the incidents of the entire voyage and his wonderful
experiences in a manner so graphic and simple that it absolutely charms
and fascinates his hearers as few ever did or ever could do.
The experiences of Captain Slocum have proved him to be one of the
greatest navigators of the age.
It is wonderful to listen to the descriptions of some of his hairbreadth
escapes and to hear him answer, as quick as a flash, questions of every
conceivable sort put to him by expert seafaring auditors. I have
listened for hours to these seeming tournaments in navigators’ skill,
and never yet did the captain hesitate for an instant for a reply that
went straight to the mark like a bullet.
Captain Slocum’s book, “Sailing Alone Around the World,” (published by
The Century Company), has had a large sale, which is constantly
increasing.
Had all this occurred twenty years ago, it would have meant a fortune
for Captain Slocum, and a stimulant for the lyceum such as it is
impossible to secure under present conditions. “Because why?” you ask.
Because under the present conditions, lecture courses are forced upon
the communities by agents representing various lecture bureaus, who
start out with sample photographs and circulars (regulation size), round
up a committee of enterprising citizens who want to do something for the
town, and persuade them to go on a guarantee fund to secure a course of
lectures and entertainments. They listen to the bureau agent’s
recommendations of “the greatest orator of the times, Mr. Breeze,” and
“the great traveller and adventurer, Mr. Push,” “the latest and most
original dialect poet, Mr. Verse,” “Miss Wonder, whose dramatic
recitations have captivated metropolitan audiences in all the large
cities,” and “Miss Good, who is a direct descendant of a
great-grandniece of Oliver Wendell Holmes’s cousin.” The course is made
up, and contracts are signed before the agent leaves town. Then for six
months the course is being talked up. The bureau agent remains for a few
days to assist the local canvassers in getting started, telling them who
the celebrities are that are to make the town so famous by their visit,
etc.
Over fifty such courses are already announced for the State of Michigan
the coming autumn, August, 1900, over two hundred in the State of
Illinois, nearly as many in Iowa, and so proportionately all over the
country. More than $6,000 a week is now being disbursed by bureaus to
agents “selling courses.”
So when the newspapers and _The Century Magazine_, _McClure’s Magazine_,
and _Harper’s Magazine_ publish the accounts of such heroic adventures
as Captain Slocum’s, and a circular is sent out announcing his intention
to relate from the lecture platform for the enlightenment of the public
the story of his adventures, this local guarantee committee informs the
captain that they already have “a course” in their city, which means
that an independent lecture or entertainment of any kind, no matter how
meritorious, is boycotted by the local committee in every city in the
Union of from 2,500 to 40,000.
John L. Stoddard was the most phenomenal success as a professional
lecturer, pure and simple, that I have ever known. He began in Boston
with the bureau in 1878, together with what he could do for himself, as
the bureau did not see enough in his lectures to make him an offer for
all of his time. I heard him several times in churches in and about
Boston, and declared him a success. I wanted to make him a big offer,
but partnership stipulations--that our firm should not
speculate--prevented that. I went nightly to hear him and see his
pictures. Two young men engaged him for a lecture in Music Hall, Boston,
and made a lot of money. They tried it again with the same result; then
in suburban towns. Until the warm summer days and short nights set in,
crowds were limited to the capacity of the auditorium. I have heard many
lecturers whom I thought Stoddard’s superior from a professional point
of view, but no other lectures with illustrations have ever drawn one
quarter the people to hear them that his did. He has held first place as
a stereopticon lecturer for twenty years and has retired with a fortune.
Men and women have said to me: “What is the secret of this man’s
success?” My only reply is: “The people like to hear him. I like to hear
him.”
[Illustration]
ACTORS AND DRAMATIC CRITICS
Joseph Jefferson is an actor in whom the romantic ardor of devotion to
the dramatic art has never languished. Youth is gone, but not its
enthusiasm, its faith, or its fire. He still embodies Rip Van Winkle
with a sincerity as intense and with an artistic execution as thorough
and as fresh as if the part were new, and as if he were playing it for
the first time. The spontaneous drollery, the wildwood freedom, the
endearing gentleness, the piquant, quizzical sapience, the unconscious
humor, the pathetic blending of forlorn, wistful patience with
awestricken apprehension, the dazed, submissive, drifting surrender to
the current of fate, and the apparently careless, but clear-cut and
beautiful method--all those attributes that bewitched the community long
ago remain unchanged, and have lost no particle of their charm.
[Illustration]
One Sunday morning, in Plymouth Church, just as Mr. Beecher was about to
begin his sermon, and there was a deathly silence all over the house,
Mr. Beecher said:
“Yes, I have been to the theatre. Mr. Beecher has been to the theatre.
Now if you will all wait until you are past seventy years of age and
will then go and see Joseph Jefferson in ‘Rip Van Winkle,’ I venture the
risk that it will not affect your eligibility for heaven if you do
nothing worse.”
Mr. Jefferson can command $1,000 a night in the large cities, if he will
only consent to lecture. He and Sir Henry Irving are overrun with
invitations to appear before college audiences.
William Winter was first called to my attention by Henry Ward Beecher,
in 1876, while we were on the train between Fall River and Boston. Mr.
Beecher was reading the New York _Tribune_. He usually read his morning
paper from beginning to end, and this time he had got as far as the
dramatic criticism, when he said to me:
“If you want to have the true estimate concerning the drama you should
read William Winter in _The Tribune_. He is the most graphic writer
there is, and he is a fine critic and absolutely clean. Here’s what he
says of this young actress, Mary Anderson, as ‘Juliet.’”
[Illustration]
Mr. Beecher then read aloud to me a column prophesying a brilliant
success, which proved to be fully realized. Since that time I have read
everything Mr. Winter has written. I watched and read and admired the
man. I noted the interest that he took in all matters pertaining to the
advancement, culture, and education of the community where he lives, his
founding of the Arthur Winter Memorial Library at the Staten Island
Academy, with a contribution of rare books and gems of literature that
could have been collected only by one of fine gifts and refined tastes
such as Mr. Winter possesses.
Reading of this acquisition to the academy and the erection of a hall
for lectures, etc., I felt an interest in the success of this movement,
and wrote my first letter to Mr. Winter, proposing to furnish such of my
stars as would contribute lectures and entertainments for his public.