Part 23
“Now, with regard to this Anglo-American alliance. It is a good thing and a natural thing for both nations to come together and shake hands and make a league of friendship. But the necessity for that is not imperative for either side. England is at peace with all the world, though she frets herself now and then. America has her enemy at her mercy, and nobody is going to interfere with her. Where is the need for the hurry? Then, naturally, having passed the impressionable period of my life in America--and born in Britain, having an English wife and home--I feel able to see a trifle clearer than some of those who are all American or all English. I have not a particle of prejudice, though my duty lies on this side. My opinion is we must not be too precipitate. The two nations are gravitating together. True friendship cannot be forced, but is a slow process, requiring time. There are many Americans who have not even thought of the subject, there are English who cannot entertain the idea. If such people are spoken to about the alliance they are apt to say things neither kindly American nor kindly English would like to hear.
“No! Wisdom suggests we leave the feeling to grow and solidify. If either country was in distress, that would be the proper time to breathe more life into that spirit of kinship and kindliness which we know exists, and bring the reserved and proud peoples together, but to-day there is no necessity for either nation to think particularly about the matter. One is fat and proud with its Bank of England and big navy, the other is in a quiver of delight over Manila, and Santiago, and the heroes--Dewey, Schley, and Shafter. The time is not suitable for speaking of alliances. If you Americans will come out of that Continent and take your share of the Old World’s concerns, you will know better what is meant by alliances. Were I not in a dreadful hurry and every member of the family impatiently waiting for me, I could relate some curious thoughts of mine about that matter, but I am not allowed to form one connected sentence in peace. I cannot offer myself for the Lyceum this term.”
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A fair picture, certainly, this of Ulysses the wanderer with the distaff in hand.
Under date of February 6, 1899, the day before Parliament was to meet, Sir Henry writes that, looking round for arrearages of work, his eyes caught sight of my 1899 letter.
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“The year 1899 is starting so smoothly in England that the blank page might serve for a news letter. We have long ago calmed down about the mad French attempt on the Upper Nile, and we are so interested in the Czar’s Peace Circular that we relaxed our attention to Russian misdoing in China. With Germany we have no question, and America has civilly refrained from twisting our Lion’s tail. Old Kruger is probably more concerned with his personal infirmities and the Colonists are following their usually orderly habits, so that all around 1899 promises to be very quiet with us.”
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This was a promise that events soon proved was easily broken, but even Stanley could not foresee the sharp awakening for England as well as ourselves. He proceeds:
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“I wish I could feel your prospects are also as satisfactory. I don’t know what you think of it, but it seems to me this Imperialism is going to prove costly and disturbing to America, and her well-wishers are in doubt whether it be wise in her to take upon herself the task of regenerating the Philippines. If you don’t mind the expense and bother of reforming these barbarians and making them orderly, we will not do more than wish you well through the self-imposed task.”
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Under date of November 24, 1899, Sir Henry M. Stanley replied to a letter of mine wherein, at the suggestion of an experienced editorial friend, I had pointed out to him the value of a short lecture tour in the United States, during which no man could with such authority as himself point out to the American people the situation in South Africa. My adviser very strongly urged the fact that the views of Sir Henry M. Stanley would not only greatly affect opinion here, but would tend largely to extend his influence as a statesman in his own country. Stanley illustrates his own modesty by ignoring _in toto_ my suggestion, and then thus frankly criticises the British-Boer situation at the date of his writing:
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“We are not doing so well in the Transvaal as I expected, but everything proves to me how really necessary it was that the evil humors which had been gathering for the last nineteen years should come to a head and be boldly dealt with. It proves, also, how remiss we have been in thus delaying in considering the Transvaal matters as serious. No people on earth are so averse to war as we are, and so prone to be guided by goody-goody sentiment. Being rich, prosperous, and contented, we seem to forget that all people are not so happy, and accordingly fail to provide against other people’s discontent with us.
“This sunny belief in the power of sentiment will certainly be our bane some day. From sentiment we left our African frontiers unprotected; we left our garrisons in Natal open to an enemy that has been breathing nothing but threats for ever so long; from sentiment we left the Afrikander Bund to make its preparations, diffuse its opinions, and conspire to oust us from South Africa; from sentiment we allow Kruger to build his forts, arm his people with cannon and Mausers, and, naturally, when everything is ready for the crisis for which Kruger has been preparing, we profess to be surprised that Natal and Cape Colony have been invaded, and that the Boers have been able to present such a bold front to us.
“That war itself and the small disasters we have met are the penalties we pay for the belief we profess that all men can be persuaded by reason or soothed by sentiment. By all means profess as loudly as you may the very best of sentiments toward people with whom you desire to be on amicable terms, but don’t forget that human beings are not angels or children, to be restrained by sentiment alone. If you have interests, no amount of sentiment will protect them, especially when they lie so temptingly close to another race. That is a paraphrase of the old saying: ‘Pray to God, but keep your powder dry.’ We have prayed both to God and the Boer, but in most reprehensible fashion we have forgotten all about the powder.
“What is going to happen to us if we continue to be thus neglectful of the commonest precautions? Heaven only knows. In England we are so given to the cultivation of beautiful phrases and logic that no one of the simple kind can hope to have simple truths listened to. Our newspaper leaders are written in such Johnsonian-Gladstonese that plain people pass them over as being ‘grand,’ but they are scarcely understood by the many. In admiration of the sound we have lost the sense, and the direct, simple English has no chance in these libretto days.
“In other ways we are also degenerate. Fancy ten thousand English soldiers, willing to be led anywhere, remaining penned up in that hollow of Ladysmith by a force of say even twenty thousand raw Boer militia! It is all of a piece with that grand strategic genius which chose a hollow for the South African Aldershot, with not even an intrenchment until it was too late.”
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The following is a characteristic and forcible presentation of opinions which he of all men has the right to express:
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“FURZE HILL, PERBRIGHT, SURREY, October 10, 1899.
“MY DEAR MAJOR: Your introduction of Mr. Howland has resulted, as you are probably aware, in the publication of an article in his magazine (_The Outlook_) on Anglo-Saxon Responsibilities. I have just seen it, and though it was written before the Transvaal crisis became acute, subsequent facts have, I think, borne my hints out.
“The above is my present address, where I am simply roughing it, owing to the chaos prevailing inside and out. I am therefore in no condition for writing a letter for the public eye, as you yourself would be the first to admit if you could see my surroundings. Besides, I cannot see the object of interesting the public in anything just now, and the Anglo-Saxon relations are the topic of a thousand pens more or less capable of instructing everybody who can read or think. Whether we shall fight or not depends upon Kruger. He alone has it in his power to stay the storm, but whether he will use that power or not, no one--probably not Kruger even--can say. My opinion of Kruger differs from almost every writer in the fact that I say he is a confirmed ass, or if you prefer the true meaning of it--an obstinate old fool.
“I wrote ‘Through South Africa’ some two years ago, and if you will look 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.”
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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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.