I hold that kings and noblemen can not breathe in America. When they
set foot upon our soil their royalty and their nobility fall away from
them like the chains of a slave in England. Whatever a man may be in
his own country, here he is only a man. My countrymen may do as they
please, but I make a stand for simple American manhood. I will meet
no man on this soil who expects from me a greater deference than I
could properly accord to a citizen of my own country. My allegiance
to republican institutions is slack through lack of faith in them as
a practical system of governing men as men are; all the same, I will
call no man “your majesty,” nor “your lordship.” For me to meet in my
own country a king or a nobleman would require as much preliminary
negotiation as an official interview between the Mufti of Moosh and
the Ahkoond of Swat. The form of salutation and the style and title of
address would have to be settled definitively and with precision.
With some of my most esteemed and patriotic friends the matter is more
simple; their generosity in concession fills me with admiration and
their forbearance in demand challenges my astonishment as one of the
seven wonders of American hospitality. In fancy I see the ceremony of
their “presentation,” and as examples of simple republican dignity I
commend their posture to the youth of this fair New World, inviting
particular attention to the grand, bold curves of character shown in
the outlines of the human ham.