Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team.
AN ADVENTURE WITH A GENIUS
Recollections of JOSEPH PULITZER.
BY ALLEYNE IRELAND
AUTHOR OF
"DEMOCRACY AND THE HUMAN EQUATION"
DEDICATED
BY KIND PERMISSION
AND
WITH SINCERE REGARD
TO
MRS. JOSEPH PULITZER
PREFACE
In the course of my wanderings about the labyrinth of life it has been
my good fortune to find awaiting me around every corner some new
adventure. If these have generally lacked that vividness of action which
to the eye of youth is the very test of adventure, they have been rich
in a kind of experience which to a mature and reflective mind has a
value not to be measured in terms of dramatic incident.
My adventures, in a word, have been chiefly those of personal contact
with the sort of men whose lives are the material around which history
builds its story, and from which fiction derives all that lends to it
the air of reality.
I have had friends and acquaintances in a score of countries, and in
every station of society--kings and beggars, viceroys and ward-
politicians, judges and criminals, men of brain and men of brawn.
My first outstanding adventure was with a stern and formidable man, the
captain of a sailing vessel, of whose ship's company I was one in a
voyage across the Pacific; one of my most recent was with a man not less
stern or formidable, with the man who is the central figure in the
present narrative.
The tale has been told before in a volume entitled "Joseph Pulitzer:
Reminiscences of a Secretary." The volume has been out of print for some
time, but the continued demand for it has called for its re-issue. The
change in title has been made in response to many suggestions that the
character of the material is more aptly described as "An Adventure with
a Genius."
ALLEYNE IRELAND.
New York, 1920.
CONTENTS
I. In a Casting Net
II. Meeting Joseph Pulitzer
III. Life at Cap Martin
IV. Yachting in the Mediterranean
V. Getting to Know Mr. Pulitzer
VI. Weisbaden and an Atlantic Voyage
VII. Bar Harbor and the Last Cruise
CHAPTER I
IN A CASTING NET
A long illness, a longer convalescence, a positive injunction from my
doctor to leave friends and business associates and to seek some spot
where a comfortable bed and good food could be had in convenient
proximity to varied but mild forms of amusement--and I found myself in
the autumn of the year 1910 free and alone in the delightful city of
Hamburg.
All my plans had gone down wind, and as I sat at my table in the Cafe
Ziechen, whence, against the background of the glittering blue of the
Alster, I could see the busy life of the Alter Jungfernstieg and the
Alsterdamm, my thoughts turned naturally to the future.
It is not the easiest thing in the world to reconstruct at forty years
of age the whole scheme of your life; but my illness, and other
happenings of a highly disagreeable character, had compelled me to
abandon a career to which I had devoted twenty years of arduous labor;
and the question which pressed for an immediate answer was: What are you
going to do now?
Various alternatives presented themselves. There had been a suggestion
that I should take the editorship of a newspaper in Calcutta; an
important financial house in London had offered me the direction of its
interests in Western Canada; a post in the service of the Government of
India had been mentioned as a possibility by certain persons in
authority.
My own inclination, the child of a weary spirit and of the lassitude of
ill health, swayed me in the direction of a quiet retreat in Barbados,
that peaceful island of an eternal summer cooled by the northeast
trades, where the rush and turmoil of modern life are unknown and where
a very modest income more than suffices for all the needs of a simple
existence.
I shall never know to what issue my reflections upon these matters would
have led me, for a circumstance, in the last degree trivial, intervened
to turn my thoughts into an entirely new channel, and to guide me,
though I could not know it at the time, into the service of Joseph
Pulitzer.
My waiter was extremely busy serving a large party of artillery officers
at an adjoining table. I glanced through The Times and the Hamburger
Nachrichten, looked out for a while upon the crowded street, and then,
resigning myself to the delay in getting my lunch, picked up The Times
again and did what I had never done before in my life--read the
advertisements under the head "Professional Situations."
All except one were of the usual type, the kind in which a prospective
employer flatters a prospective employee by classing as "professional"
the services of a typewriter or of a companion to an elderly gentleman
who resides within easy distance of an important provincial town.
One advertisement, however, stood out from the rest on account of the
peculiar requirements set forth in its terse appeal. It ran something
after this fashion: "Wanted, an intelligent man of about middle age,
widely read, widely traveled, a good sailor, as companion-secretary to a
gentleman. Must be prepared to live abroad. Good salary. Apply, etc."
My curiosity was aroused; and at first sight I appeared to meet the
requirements in a reasonable measure. I had certainly traveled widely,
and I was an excellent sailor--excellent to the point of offensiveness.
Upon an unfavorable construction I could claim to be middle-aged at
forty; and I was prepared to live abroad in the unlikely event of any
one fixing upon a country which could be properly called "abroad" from
the standpoint of a man who had not spent twelve consecutive months in
any place since he was fifteen years old.
As for intelligence, I reflected that for ninety-nine people out of a
hundred intelligence in others means no more than the discovery of a
person who is in intellectual acquiescence with themselves, and that if
the necessity arose I could probably affect an acquiescence which would
serve all the purposes of a fundamental identity of convictions.
Two things, however, suggested possible difficulties, the questions of
what interpretations the advertiser placed upon the terms "widely read"
and "good salary." I could not claim to be widely read in any
conventional sense, for I was not a university graduate, and the very
extensive reading I had done in my special line of study--the control
and development of tropical dependencies--though it might entitle me to
some consideration as a student in that field had left me woefully
ignorant of general literature. Would the ability to discuss with
intelligence the Bengal Regulation of 1818, or the British Guiana
Immigration Ordinance of 1891 be welcomed as a set-off to a complete
unfamiliarity with Milton's "Comus" and Gladstone's essay on the
epithets of motion in Homer?
On the subject of what constituted a "good salary" experience had taught
me to expect a very wide divergence of view, not only along the natural
line of cleavage between the person paying and the person receiving the
salary, but also between one employer and another and between one
employee and another; and I recalled a story, told me in my infancy, in
which a certain British laboring man had been heard to remark that he
would not be the Czar of Russia, no, not for thirty shillings a week.
But that element in the situation might, I reflected, very well be left
to take care of itself.
I finished my lunch, and then replied to the advertisement, giving my
English address. My letter, a composition bred of the conflicting
influences of pride, modesty, prudence, and curiosity, brought forth in
due course a brief reply in which I was bidden to an interview in that
part of London where fashion and business prosperity seek to ape each
other.
Upon presenting myself at the appointed hour I was confronted by a
gentleman whose severity of manner I learned later to recognize as the
useful mask to a singularly genial and kindly nature.
Our interview was long and, to me at any rate, rather embarrassing,
since it resolved itself into a searching cross-examination by a past-
master in the art. Who were my parents? When and where had I been born?
Where had I been educated? What were my means of livelihood? What
positions had I filled since I went out into the world? What countries
had I visited? What books had I read? What books had I written? To what
magazines and reviews had I contributed? Who were my friends? Was I fond
of music, of painting, of the drama? Had I a sense of humor? Had I a
good temper or a good control of a bad one? What languages could I speak
or read? Did I enjoy good health? Was I of a nervous disposition? Had I
tact and discretion? Was I a good horseman, a good sailor, a good
talker, a good reader?
When it came to asking me whether I was a good horseman AND a good
sailor, I realized that anyone who expected to find these two qualities
combined in one man was quite capable of demanding that his companion-
secretary should be able to knit woollen socks, write devotional verse,
and compute the phases of the moon.
I remember chuckling to myself over this quaint conceit; I was to learn
later that it came unpleasantly near the truth.
Under this close examination I felt that I had made rather a poor
showing. This was due in some measure, no doubt, to the fact that my
questioner abruptly left any topic as soon as he discovered that I knew
something about it, and began to angle around, with disturbing success,
to find the things I did not know about.
At one point, however, I scored a hit. After I had been put through my
paces, a process which seemed to me to end only at the exact point where
my questioner could no longer remember the name of anything in the
universe about which he could frame an interrogation, it was my turn to
ask questions.
Was the person I was addressing the gentleman who needed the companion?
No, he was merely his agent. As a matter of fact the person on whose
behalf he was acting was an American.
I nodded in a non-committal way.
He was also a millionaire.
I bowed the kind of bow that a Frenchman makes when he says Mais
parfaitement.
Furthermore he was totally blind.
"Joseph Pulitzer," I said.
"How in the world did you guess that?" asked my companion.
"That wasn't a guess," I replied. "You advertised for an intelligent
man; and this is simply where my intelligence commences to show itself.
An intelligent man couldn't live as long as I have in the United States
without hearing a good deal about Joseph Pulitzer; and, after all, the
country isn't absolutely overrun with blind millionaires."
At the close of the interview I was told that I would be reported upon.
In the meantime would I kindly send in a written account of the
interview, in the fullest possible detail, as a test of my memory, sense
of accuracy, and literary style.
Nor was this all. As I prepared to take my departure I was handed the
address of another gentleman who would also examine me and make a
report. Before I got out of the room my inquisitor said, "It may
interest you to know that we have had more than six hundred applications
for the post, and that it may, therefore, take some time before the
matter is definitely settled."
I was appalled. Evidently I had been wasting my time, for I could have
no doubt that the gallant six hundred would include a sample of every
kind of pundit, stationary or vagrant, encompassed within the seven
seas; and against such competition I felt my chances to be just
precisely nothing.
My companion observed my discomfiture. and as he shook hands he said,
"Oh, that doesn't really mean very much. As a matter of fact we were
able to throw out more than five hundred and fifty applications merely
for self-evident reasons. A number of school teachers and bank clerks
applied, and in general these gentlemen said that although they had not
traveled they would have no objection to living abroad, and that they
might venture to hope that if they DID go to sea they would prove to be
good sailors.
"Most of them appeared to think that the circumstance of being middle-
aged would off-set their deficiencies in other directions. There are
really only a few gentlemen whom we can consider as being likely to meet
Mr. Pulitzer's requirements, and the selection will be made finally by
Mr. Pulitzer himself. It is very probable that you will be asked to go
to Mentone to spend a fortnight or so on Mr. Pulitzer's yacht or at his
villa at Cap Martin, as he never engages anybody until he has had the
candidate with him for a short visit.
"And, by the way, would you mind writing a short narrative of your life,
not more than two thousand words? It would interest Mr. Pulitzer and
would help him to reach a decision in your case. You might also send me
copies of some of your writings."
Thus ended my interview with Mr. James M. Tuohy, the London
correspondent of the New York World.
My next step was to call upon the second inquisitor, Mr. George Ledlie.
I found him comfortably installed at an hotel in the West End. He was an
American, very courteous and pleasant, but evidently prepared to use a
probe without any consideration for the feelings of the victim.
As my business was to reveal myself, I wasted no time, and for about an
hour I rambled along on the subject of my American experiences. I do not
know to this day what sort of an impression I created upon this
gentleman, but I felt at the time that it ought to have been a favorable
one.
We had many friends in common; I had recently been offered a lectureship
in the university from which he had graduated; some of my books had been
published in America by firms in whose standing he had confidence; I
paraded a slight acquaintance with three Presidents of the United
States, and produced from my pocketbook letters from two of them; we
found that we were both respectful admirers of a charming lady who had
recently undergone a surgical operation; he had been a guest at my club
in Boston, I had been a guest at his club in New York. When I left him I
thought poorly of the chances of the remnant of the six hundred.
Some weeks passed and I heard nothing more of the matter. During this
time I had leisure to think over what I had heard from time to time
about Joseph Pulitzer, and to speculate, with the aid of some
imaginative friends, upon the probable advantages and disadvantages of
the position for which I was a candidate.
Gathered together, my second-hand impressions of Joseph Pulitzer made
little more than a hazy outline. I had heard or read that he had landed
in New York in the early sixties, a penniless youth unable to speak a
word of English; that after a remarkable series of adventures he had
become a newspaper proprietor and, later, a millionaire; that he had
been stricken blind at the height of his career; that his friends and
his enemies agreed in describing him as a man of extraordinary ability
and of remarkable character; that he had been victorious in a bitter
controversy with President Roosevelt; that one of the Rothschilds had
remarked that if Joseph Pulitzer had not lost his eyesight and his
health he, Pulitzer, would have collected into his hands all the money
there was; that he was the subject of one of the noblest portraits
created by the genius of John Sargent; and that he spent most of his
time on board a magnificent yacht, surrounded by a staff of six
secretaries.
This was enough, of course, to inspire me with a keen desire to meet Mr.
Pulitzer; it was not enough to afford me the slightest idea of what life
would be like in close personal contact with such a man.
The general opinion of my friends was that life with Mr. Pulitzer would
be one long succession of happy, care-free days spent along the
languorous shores of the Mediterranean--days of which perhaps two hours
would be devoted to light conversation with my interesting host, and the
remainder of my waking moments to the gaities of Monte Carlo, to rambles
on the picturesque hillsides of Rapallo and Bordighera, or to the genial
companionship of my fellow-secretaries under the snowy awnings of the
yacht.
We argued the matter out to our entire satisfaction. Mr. Pulitzer, in
addition to being blind, was a chronic invalid, requiring a great deal
of sleep and repose. He could hardly be expected to occupy more than
twelve hours a day with his secretaries. That worked out at two hours
apiece, or, if the division was made by days, about one day a week to
each secretary.
The yacht, I had been given to understand, cruised for about eight
months in the year over a course bounded by Algiers and the Piraeus, by
Mentone and Alexandria, with visits to the ports of Italy, Sicily,
Corsica, and Crete. The least imaginative of mortals could make a very
fair and alluring picture of what life would be like under such
circumstances. As the event turned out it was certainly not our
imaginations that were at fault.
As time passed without bringing any further sign from Mr. Tuohy my hopes
gradually died out, and I fixed in my mind a date upon which I would
abandon all expectations of securing the appointment. Scarcely had I
reached this determination when I received a telegram from Mr. Tuohy
asking me to lunch with him the next day at the Cafe Royal in order to
meet Mr. Ralph Pulitzer, who was passing through London on his way back
to America after a visit to his father.
I leave my readers to imagine what sort of a lunch I had in the company
of two gentlemen whose duty it was to struggle with the problem of
discovering the real character and attainments of a guest who knew he
was under inspection.
I found Mr. Ralph Pulitzer to be a slender, clean-cut, pale gentleman of
an extremely quiet and self-possessed manner. He was very agreeable, and
he listened to my torrent of words with an interest which, if it were
real, reflected great credit on me, and which, if it were feigned,
reflected not less credit on him.
As we parted he said, "I shall write to my father to-day and tell him of
our meeting. Of course, as you know, the decision in this matter rests
entirely with him."
After this incident there was another long silence, and I again fixed
upon a day beyond which I would not allow my hopes to flourish. The day
arrived, nothing happened, and the next morning I went down to the
offices of the West India Royal Mail Steam Packet Company and made
inquiries about the boats for Barbados. I spent the afternoon at my club
making out a list of things to be taken out as aids to comfortable
housekeeping in a semi-tropical country--a list which swelled amazingly
as I turned over the fascinating pages of the Army and Navy Stores
Catalogue.
By dinner time I had become more than reconciled to the new turn of
affairs, and when I reached my flat at midnight I found myself impatient
of the necessary delay before I could settle down to a life of easy
literary activity in one of the most delightful climates in the world
and in the neighborhood of a large circle of charming friends and
acquaintances.
On the table in the hall I found a telegram from Mr. Tuohy instructing
me to start next morning for Mentone, where Mr. Pulitzer would entertain
me as his guest for a fortnight, either at his villa or aboard his yacht
Liberty, and informing me that I would find at my club early in the
morning an envelope containing a ticket to Mentone, with sleeper and
parlor-car accommodation, and a check to cover incidental expenses.
The tickets and the check were accompanied by a letter in which I was
told that I was to consider this two weeks' visit as a trial, that
during that time all my expenses would be paid, that I would receive an
honorarium of so much a day from the time I left London until I was
engaged by Mr. Pulitzer or had arrived back in London after rejection by
him, and that everything depended upon the impression I made on my host.
I left London cold, damp, and foggy; and in less than twenty-four hours
I was in the train between Marseilles and Mentone, watching the surf
playing among the rocks in the brilliant sunshine of the Cote d'Azur. In
the tiny harbor of Mentone I found, anchored stern-on to the quay, the
steam yacht Liberty--a miracle of snowy decks and gleaming brass-work--
tonnage 1,607, length over all 316 feet, beam 35.6 feet, crew 60, all
told.
A message from Mr. Pulitzer awaited me. Would I dine at his villa at Cap
Martin? An automobile would call for me at seven o'clock.
I spent the day in looking over the yacht and in trying to pick up some
information as to the general lay of the land, by observing every detail
of my new surroundings.
The yacht itself claimed my first attention. Everything was new and
fascinating to me, for although I had had my share of experiences in
barques, and brigs, and full-rigged ships, in mail boats and tramp
steamers, only once before had I had an opportunity to examine closely a
large private yacht. Ten years before, I had spent some time cruising
along the northern coast of Borneo in the yacht of His Highness Sir
Charles Brooke, Raja of Sarawak; but with that single exception yachting
was for me an unknown phase of sea life.
The Liberty--or, as the secretarial staff, for reasons which will become
apparent later, called her, the Liberty, Ha! Ha!--was designed and built
on the Clyde. I have never seen a vessel of more beautiful lines.
Sailors would find, I think, but one fault in her appearance and one
peculiarity. With a white-painted hull, her bridge and the whole of her
upper structure, except the masts and funnel, were also white, giving to
her general features a certain flatness which masked her fine
proportions. Her bridge, instead of being well forward, was placed so
far aft that it was only a few feet from the funnel. The object of this
departure from custom was to prevent any walking over Mr. Pulitzer's
head when he sat in his library, which was situated under the spot,
where the bridge would have been in most vessels.
The boat was specially designed to meet Mr. Pulitzer's peculiar
requirements. She had a flush deck from the bows to the stern, broken
only, for perhaps twenty feet, by a well between the forecastle head and
the fore part of the bridge.
Running aft from the bridge to within forty feet of the stern was an
unbroken line of deck houses. Immediately afore the bridge was Mr.
Pulitzer's library, a handsome room lined from floor to ceiling with
books; abaft of that was the dining saloon, which could accommodate in
comfort a dozen people; continuing aft there were, on the port side, the
pantry, amidships the enclosed space over the engine room, and on the
starboard side a long passage leading to the drawing-room and writing-
room used by the secretaries and by members of Mr. Pulitzer's family
when they were on the yacht.
The roof and sides of this line of deck houses were extended a few feet
beyond the aftermost room, so as to provide a sheltered nook where Mr.
Pulitzer could sit when the wind was too strong for his comfort on the
open deck.
Between the sides of the deck houses and the sides of the ship there ran
on each side a promenade about nine feet broad, unbroken by bolt or nut,
stanchion or ventilator, smooth as a billiard table and made of the
finest quality of seasoned teak. The promenade continued across the fore
part of Mr. Pulitzer's library and across the after part of the line of
deck houses, so that there was an oblong track round the greater part of
the boat, a track covered overhead with double awnings and protected
inboard by the sides of the deck houses, and outboard by adjustable
canvas screens, which could be let down or rolled up in a few minutes.
About thirty feet from the stern a heavy double canvas screen ran
'thwartships from one side of the boat to the other, shutting off a
small space of deck for the use of the crew. The main deck space was
allotted as follows: under the forecastle head accommodation for two
officers and two petty officers, abaft of that the well space, of which
I have spoken; under the library was Mr. Pulitzer's bedroom, occupying
the whole breadth of the ship and extending from the bulkhead at the
after part of the well space as far aft as the companion way leading
down between the library and the saloon, say twenty-five feet.
A considerable proportion of the sides of this bedroom was given up to
books; in one corner was a very high wash-hand-stand, so high that Mr.
Pulitzer, who was well over six feet tall, could wash his hands without
stooping. The provision of this very high wash-hand-stand illustrates
the minute care with which everything had been foreseen in the
construction and fitting-up of the yacht. When a person stoops there is
a slight impediment to the free flow of blood to the head, such an
impediment might react unfavorably on the condition of Mr. Pulitzer's
eyes, therefore the wash-hand-stand was high enough to be used without
stooping.
In the forward bulkhead of the cabin were two silent fans, one drawing
air into the room, the other drawing it out. The most striking feature
of the room was an immense four-poster bed which stood in the center of
the cabin, with a couch at the foot and one or two chairs at one side.
Hanging at the head of the bed was a set of electric push-bells, the
cords being of different lengths so that Mr. Pulitzer could call at will
for the major-domo, the chief steward, the captain, the officer on
watch, and so on.
The bedroom was heavily carpeted and was cut off from the rest of the
ship by double bulkheads, double doors, and double portholes, with the
object of protecting Mr. Pulitzer as much as possible from all noise, to
which he was excessively sensitive. A large bathroom opened immediately
off the bedroom, and a flight of steps led down to a gymnasium on the
lower deck.
Abaft of Mr. Pulitzer's bedroom there were, on the port side, the cabins
of the major-domo, the captain, the head butler, the chief engineer, an
officers' mess room, the ship's galley, a steward's mess room, and the
cabins of the chief steward and one or two officers.
Corresponding with these there were, on the starboard side, the cabins
of the secretaries and the doctor, "The Cells," as we called them. They
were comfortable rooms, all very much on one pattern, except that of the
business secretary, which was a good deal larger than the others. He
needed the additional space for newspaper files, documents,
correspondence, and so on. Each cabin contained a bed, a wash-hand-
stand, a chest of drawers, a cupboard for clothes, a small folding
table, some book shelves, an arm chair, an ordinary chair, an electric
fan, and a radiator. Each cabin had two portholes, and there were two
bathrooms to the six cabins.
The center of the ship, between these cabins and the corresponding space
on the port side, was occupied by the engine room; and the entrance to
the secretaries' quarters was through a companionway opening on to the
promenade deck, with a door on each side of the yacht, and leading down
a flight of stairs to a long fore-and-aft passage, out of which all the
secretaries' cabins opened.
Abaft the secretaries' cabins, and occupying the whole breadth of the
boat, were a number of cabins and suites for the accommodation of Mrs.
Pulitzer, other members of the family, and guests; and abaft of these,
cut off by a 'thwartships bulkhead, were the quarters of the crew.
The lower deck was given over chiefly to stores, coal bunkers, the
engine room, the stoke-hold, and to a large number of electric
accumulators, which kept the electric lights going when the engines were
not working. There were, however, on this deck the gymnasium, and a
large room, directly under Mr. Pulitzer's bedroom, used to take the
overflow from the library.
The engines were designed rather for smooth running than for speed, and
twelve knots an hour was the utmost that could be got out of them, the
average running speed being about eight knots. The yacht had an ample
supply of boats, including two steam launches, one burning coal, the
other oil.
During my inspection of the yacht I was accompanied by my cabin-steward,
a young Englishman who had at one time served aboard the German
Emperor's yacht, Meteor. Nothing could have been more courteous than his
manner or more intelligent than his explanations; but the moment I tried
to draw him out on the subject of life on the yacht he relapsed into a
vagueness from which I could extract no gleam of enlightenment. After
fencing for some time with my queries he suggested that I might like to
have a glass of sherry and a biscuit in the secretaries' library, and,
piloting me thither, he left me.
The smoking-room was furnished with writing tables, some luxurious arm
chairs, and a comfortable lounge, and every spare nook was filled with
book shelves. The contents of these shelves were extremely varied. A
cursory glance showed me Meyer's Neues Konversations-Lexicon, The Yacht
Register, Whitaker's Almanack, Who's Who, Burke's Peerage, The Almanack
de Gotha, the British and the Continental Bradshaw, a number of
Baedeker's "Guides," fifty or sixty volumes of the Tauchnitz edition, a
large collection of files of reviews and magazines--The Nineteenth
Century, Quarterly, Edinburgh, Fortnightly, Contemporary, National,
Atlantic, North American, Revue de Deux Mondes--and a scattering of
volumes by Kipling, Shaw, Hosebery, Pater, Ida Tarbell, Bryce, Ferrero,
Macaulay, Anatole France, Maupassant, "Dooley," and a large number of
French and German plays. I was struck by the entire absence of books of
travel and scientific works.
I spent part of the afternoon in the drawing-room playing a large
instrument of the gramophone type. There were several hundred records--
from grand opera, violin solos by Kreisler, and the Gilbert and Sullivan
operas, to rag-time and the latest comic songs.
Before the time came to dress for dinner I had met the captain and some
of the officers of the yacht. They were all very civil; and my own
experience as a sailor enabled me to see that they were highly efficient
men. I was a good deal puzzled, however, by something peculiar but very
elusive in their attitude toward me, something which I had at once
detected in the manner of my cabin-steward.
With their courtesy was mingled a certain flavor of curiosity tinged
with amusement, which, so far from being offensive, was distinctly
friendly, but which, nevertheless, gave me a vague sense of uneasiness.
In fact the whole atmosphere of the yacht was one of restlessness and
suspense; and the effect was heightened because each person who spoke to
me appeared to be on the point of divulging some secret or delivering
some advice, which discretion checked at his lips.
I felt myself very much under observation, a feeling as though I was a
new boy in a boarding school or a new animal at the zoo--interesting to
my companions not only on account of my novelty, but because my personal
peculiarities would affect the comfort of the community of which I was
to become a member.
At seven o'clock my cabin-steward announced the arrival of the
automobile, and after a swift run along the plage and up the winding
roads on the hillsides of Cap Martin I found myself at the door of Mr.
Pulitzer's villa. I was received by the major-domo, ushered into the
drawing-room, and informed that Mr. Pulitzer would be down in a few
minutes.