"You may be right, but what good, after all, did it do him?"
"Of course," I replied, "if every time we do or say the right thing we expect to succeed, matters would be very simple. It is because we are always meeting with rebuffs that life is so complicated. We must peg away doing what we can; fundamentally humble and despising popular opinion. Believe me, you are not the only country exposed to the temptations you speak of. We can only overcome these eternal inequalities by pity and self-sacrifice, and of this we have been given an immortal example."
He got up, and, shaking me firmly by the hand, said:
"It was just as well that Christ was crucified when He was, for He would not longhave survived the hate and antagonism that His ideas provoked among the conventional, the successful, and the governing classes."
In the afternoon I was taken over the Carnegie Buildings. By the kindness of Mr. Church I was rolled about in a chair, and enjoyed the most wonderful institution of its sort that exists. Dr. Holland, who informed me that he was not only acquainted with all my literary friends in England, but with most of the crowned heads of Europe, accompanied us. Stuffed animals in huge glass cases do not usually attract me, but at the Carnegie Institute they are presented with such life-like skill that I begged to be introduced to the man who had arranged them. He was brought down in a lift from his work, and after shaking him warmly by the hand, I told him how proud I was to meet so great an artist.
Dr. Holland, my chairman of that night, was kind enough to give me the rough copy of his introductory speech:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, neighbours, and friends," he said.
"Written history has been called a 'tissue of lies.' Most historians, like portrait painters, feel it to be their duty to impart to the characters whom they are describing a glamour, which in many cases is more or less superhuman or super-diabolical as the case may be, and to represent circumstances as they happened in the light of the preternatural. Now and then there arises a writer who is gifted with the quality to see things as they really are, and who, to use a current phrase, 'calls a spade a spade.' In an age of pretence, it is to many more or less shocking to have such persons take up the pen and, with frankness born of native honesty, tell the truth as he or she may distinctly perceive it. Society is so used to 'diplomatic courtesies' that when the truth-teller arrives, society 'takes a fit,' seeing its illusions vanish. Its would-be idols which have been proclaimed as made of pure gold, are found to be gilded clay, its devils not so devilish after all, and the daring act of the truth-teller isvigorously denounced by an age which calls for nothing but compliments.
"We have all read, at least I have, with great appreciation, coupled with no small degree of amusement, Mrs. Margot Asquith's 'Autobiography.' I particularly enjoyed it because it gave her impressions of many people whom I have met and known.
"Mrs. Asquith is the wife of the great man who was the prime minister of England at the outbreak of the World War. She is here to-day in a city which bears the name of that prime minister of England who held the helm of state during the Napoleonic wars.
"I have the honour of presenting Mrs. Margot Asquith, wife of the Right Honourable Herbert Henry Asquith. She is one of the most famous women of England."
Hampered by the knowledge that we were to catch the night train to Rochester, and inexperienced in timing what I have to say, I found when I sat down that I had cut my lecture short by half an hour. Tomake up for this, and encouraged by people in the front row reaching up to shake my hand, I invited them to come on to the platform. They trooped up in large numbers and I held an informal reception which met with unexpected success.
We drove in silence to the station. I had a conviction which my secretary did not attempt to contradict that I had been a failure. Mr. Horton said he feared the news of my curtailed lecture might reach the influential press and prejudice those who might want to hear me in the towns in which I was booked to speak. Knowing in my heart that I had on every occasion received more praise than I deserved, and being of a temperament that is not knocked out by failure, I tried to cheer him up while the nigger was arranging my bed, but without the smallest success.
The trains, both in the States and in the Dominion, have every fault; those in Canada being even worse than in the United States. If you travel by day you are one of twenty-four men, women, and children who sit onhard revolving chairs eyeing one another. You cannot stretch your limbs, or smoke a cigarette, and while your ears are deafened by shrieking babies, your legs are scorched by boiling pipes. If you are rich enough, you may get a drawing room, but they do not have them on every train. When you travel by night men and women are on top of one another, buttoned behind an avenue of green cotton curtains. You cannot get your hot water bottles filled, or have tea in the morning. While staggering to your private berth between the leaps of the locomotive you are lucky if you do not fall over the protruding feet of your fellow travellers, or find yourself sitting on the face of a sleeping lady lyingperduebehind the hangings. Privacy is unknown, and though I have travelled for thousands of miles I have not yet met the train that, unless you have the balance of a ballet girl, will not give you concussion of the spine or brain.
After a sleepless night we arrived at Rochester where I seized the morning papers. Thanks to a charming reporter, Mr. C. M.Vining, who had come a long way to hear me speak at Pittsburgh, I had an excellent review.
My stay was so short at Rochester, where I lectured under the auspices of the Press Club, that I had no time to form any impressions of the place, but the people were all very good to me.
On the 26th we met Mr. Horton's mother at Buffalo, a refined, charming, old lady, who travelled in the train to Toronto with us.
Meeting Mr. Vining in the passage I thought if I brought him into our drawing room it would give my secretary an opportunity of speaking to his mother, and invited him to join us. We had an excellent talk and I told him that, for the first time in my life, I had seen a "flapper." While waiting in the sunny street outside Buffalo station, I had seen two young, short-skirted giggling girls, walking with their admirers who were armed with kodaks. One of the young men threw a girl over his shoulder who stretched out her legs while the other photographed her. I added that, while praying that I would never again be interviewed upon the subject, I would be in a better position to answer my ardent questioners in the future.
VIII.TORONTO AND MONTREAL
MARGOT TELLS A MARK TWAIN STORY—CAPTURES TORONTO AUDIENCE; KISSES CHARWOMAN—MONTREAL LADIES QUELLING AND CRITICAL
THAT evening we arrived at Toronto and I lectured on the 29th. My chairman, the Rev. Byron Stauffer, made a wonderful speech, and I was listened to by an attentive and intelligent audience.
I find Prohibition a fruitful topic of discussion.
For the information of anyone who may think, as I did, that drink has decreased, and that in consequence everyone over here is wise, sober and happy, I can only say the reverse is the truth.
I cannot write of the poorer classes, on whom, in any case, the law is hard, but among the rich I do not suppose there wasever so much alcohol concealed and enjoyed as at the present moment in America. Young men and maidens, who before this exaggerated interference would have been content with the lightest of wines, think it smart to break the law every day and night of their lives. I related to my audience that Mr. Clemens, (better known as Mark Twain), had taken me in to dinner many years ago at the house of a namesake of mine (Mrs. Charles Tennant, whose daughter Dorothy married Stanley) and had told me of a great American temperance orator who, having exercised his voice too much, had asked the chairman to provide milk instead of water at his meeting. Turning to the Rev. Byron Stauffer, who is a great temperance preacher—of which I was unaware—I said,
"The chairman—probably a kind man like my own—put rum into the milk, and when the orator, pausing in one of his most dramatic periods, stopped to clear his throat, he drained the glass, and putting it down, exclaimed,
"Gosh! what cows!"
I went on to tell of a lady who was letting her house, and, after instructing the auctioneer as to the value of her chairs, furniture and china, had left him in the dining room where the side-board had several bottles of wine and whiskey on it. She waited for a long time hoping he would return to show her the inventory, but as he did not appear she went into the dining room where she found him drunk upon the floor. She looked at the paper he held in his hand and read,
"To one revolving carpet."
Not wishing to repeat the mistake I had made in Pittsburgh, I spoke for an hour and fifteen minutes, longer than which no one can be expected to endure, and as we had some time before catching a midnight train, I invited my audience on to the stage. At this the platform was stormed, and I was seized by hands and arms, showered with compliments and, never at any time a robust figure, so crowded and crushed that I felt suffocated. My reverend chairman did hisbest, but it was not until Mr. Horton, in a voice of thunder, begged them not to mob me as I had to catch a train, that I was allowed to move. They all rushed to the stage door shouting,
"We think you are wonderful!" "Why can't you stay with us?" "You must come back!" "You're perfectly lovely!" etc.
We had to lock one of the doors of the green room, but while I was given brandy, and congratulated by my chairman and his family, a very old charwoman peeped in at another entrance, saying with emotional timidity,
"Excuse me, but though I am only a poor old woman who sweeps the stage, I would like to shake hands with you. The last famous person that I spoke to was Mme. Calvé, over whom we were all crazy; I may say she let me kiss her hand."
I turned and kissed the old lady on both her wrinkled cheeks, at which she blest me and burst into tears. I felt like doing the same, but was steadied by the presence of my jolly chairman and his relations. It waswith a feeling of tense gratitude that I heard the announcement of our car. Clinging to the arm of my secretary I swayed through an enthusiastic crowd gathered on the pavement. They were cheering, waving handkerchiefs, and throwing up their hats. Half of the audience appeared to have waited and collected round our motor, and we had the greatest difficulty in reaching it. Knowing that this sort of thing will probably never happen to me again, and with a touch of vanity that I seldom feel, I wished my husband had been there to witness my unexpected triumph.
Upon our arrival in Montreal I saw the reporters, and in the afternoon I made my speech.
I was introduced at His Majesty's Theatre, by a delightful woman, a relative of the well known Lady Drummond—Mrs. Huntley Drummond—and spoke to a lady-like assemblage in a blizzard of draughts. To quote my beloved and early friend, Mr. John Hay, "I chill like mutton gravy," and had it not been for my chairwoman who leftthe stage to bring me my fur boa, I must have contracted a permanent catarrh which would have reduced my voice to a whisper. I was relieved—a feeling which I thought the audience shared—when my lecture was over.
His Majesty's Theatre is an odious place to speak in, and whether from the fatigue of a night journey, or the refinement of my female listeners, I formed an unfavourable impression of the intellectual manners and vitality of Montreal. When I retired to the wings of the stage I pointed out to Mrs. Drummond two women in the front row whose attention and enthusiasm had made all the difference to me during the lecture. One had a masculine face, with an earnest and beautiful expression, and her neighbour was a lovely creature.
"Those," she said, "are Mrs. Hayter Reed and Mrs, Lawford."
Luckily for me they came up to the green room, accompanied by Oswald Balfour—Military Secretary to the Governor General—followed by an old man with a huge bag of golf clubs, and several otherfriendly people. The old man showed me a photograph of my father given to him on the links at Carnoustie, which touched me deeply; and my friends in the front row, after embracing me on both cheeks, assured me they had been thrilled by all that I had said, and only longed to see more of me. Mrs. Drummond—a woman of rare intellect—joined in this praise, and after Oswald—whose mother, Lady Francis Balfour, is the finest woman speaker in England—said that my voice-production, general manner and delivery were professional, I retired from a quelling and critical company.
My host that night was Sir Frederick Taylor, and I met Lady Drummond and Mr. Charles Hosmer in his beautiful house. He was more than kind to me, and I found that they knew most of my personal friends. When Lady Drummond said that I had a beautiful smile, and the papers that I had a golden voice, I felt less exhausted on my journey to Ottawa.
No one who has not been on tour in America can imagine the fatigue of crowded elevators, shaky trains, and perpetual travelling.
IX.IN CANADA'S CAPITAL
APATHY AND BREEDING OF OTTAWA'S AUDIENCE—INTIMATE TALK WITH PREMIER MACKENZIE KING—THE STATUE OF "SIR GALAHAD" AND ITS STORY
WE arrived at Ottawa on the first of March and lunched with Sir George Perley and his wife (who had befriended me upon theCarmania). Lady Perley is a treasure of kindness and understanding, and nothing I could ever do will repay her.
At lunch I met Mr. Meighen and the Canadian Premier. In inviting the defeated Minister and Mr. MacKenzie King to meet each other, my hostess reminded me of the early days where in my father's house Mr. Gladstone, Lord Randolph Churchill, and other Cabinet Ministers of rival parties met and discussed politics.
I was grateful to Mr. Meighen for the cordiality with which he greeted me, as the inventive Canadian press had added impromptu reflections of their own to what I had said of him. I sat next to Mr. MacKenzie King, but as we had no opportunity of private conversation, he invited me to go to his house for supper after the lecture.
The capital of the Dominion is a beautiful town, wonderfully situated, and in spite of being covered with snow, was alive and radiant with spangles and sunshine.
A greater contrast to the audiences of New York, Boston, Chicago, Rochester or Toronto, than the one I addressed in Ottawa could hardly be imagined, and I recognised some of the apathy and breeding which had characterised my listeners in Montreal. I was introduced to several select and fashionable people and one gentleman gave me an inventory of our British aristocracy, most of whom he had known and stayed with. I felt like putting my arm on his shoulder and saying with sympathy, "Never mind!" but refrained. Whenthe lecture was over I motored to Mr. King's private apartments.
The Canadian Premier is a man after my own heart; shrewd, straight, modest and cultured. I was surprised to find how much he knew, not only of the political situation in England, but of the chief characters concerned in it. After discussing Mr. Lloyd George, Mr. Churchill, Lord Birkenhead, and Mr. Bonar Law's Canadian friend Lord Beaverbrook, we talked of Sir Wilfred Laurier, President Harding, and Mr. Hughes. He spoke with genuine admiration of Mr. Hughes's speech and the Washington Conference and agreed with me in condemnation of the many futile confabulations that had preceded it.
He asked me about the Irish Free State and Labour conditions in England. As he had settled most of the Canadian strikes he was interested in unemployment.
I told him the "land fit for heroes to live in" was a less fashionable resort than was generally supposed; and that thanks to the policy of "official reprisals" the groundhad not been prepared in a manner to encourage either Craig or Collins to place implicit confidence in the Coalition. He told me that reprisals had come as a shock to all thoughtful people; and, pointing to a fine Italian picture of Our Lord hanging on the wall, asked me if His life had captivated me as much as it had him.
I said that following in His steps appeared to me to be the only chance we could ever have of acquiring that purity of heart which would enable us to see God; and walked up to examine the picture.
It does not take a long sojourn in Canada to prophecy that Mr. MacKenzie King will need all his courage and independence if he is to stand up to the hostility of his Conservative and fashionable opponents; but if he can make himself known to thinking men his administration ought to prove successful.
The next day I was again the guest of the premier, and met one of the two sitting members for Ottawa,—Mr. Hal McGiverin; the Hon. Dr. Henri Beland (Minister ofSoldiers 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 ayoung 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 thatof 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
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 newspapercomments 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 theDaily 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 hoursto 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 manythat 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 halland 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, theNew York Timespublished on its front page:
"LORD LEE DEFENDS AMERICAN YOUNGWOMEN
"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 blessingof 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 haveto 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 theNew York Timeshad 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 fête 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, andthe 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 theChambrein 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 theDepartment 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
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,"DearMadam,
"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 yourspirit, 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 atonce 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 tosee 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 hehad 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.
As a complete outsider with a short and hurried experience of the United States, this has struck me more than anything else. Beauty, which is so obvious in the architecture and other things, seems to be underestimated, and where nature should dominate, I have been shocked on every road that I have travelled by the huge billboards and advertisements of the most flamboyant kind, which irritate the eye and distort the vision of what otherwise would be unforgettable and inspiring. It is much the same everywhere. In Chicago the Michigan Boulevard,with the lovely lake on one side and grand buildings on the other, running at enormous width for a long distance, is one of the finest broadways in the world; but it is spoilt by a vulgar erection at the end, advertising something or other against the sky, in electric bulbs of rapid and changing colours.
I found the people I met were chiefly interested in the following report of indignation meetings:
"Blame Girls for 'Snugglepupping' and 'Petting Parties' in Chicago."
"Male 'Flappers' Parents hold Indignation Meeting."
"Boys who don't follow Fair Companions' Pace called 'Sissies, Poor Boobs and Flat Tires'."
I have only seen two headings that have really interested me. One was:
"A Good Name."
The other: "Wanted, a Rare Man: aggressive yet industrious, fighting, yet tactful and dignified. He must have a goodeducation, and an appearance which will give him an entrée into the best homes."
I would much like to be presented to any of the men who will answer these advertisements, though I have no doubt they are tumbling over one another.
From Buffalo we went on to Cincinnati where I read in one of the newspapers:
"MARGOT
"Margot Asquith, wife of the former Prime Minister of England, is in Cincinnati.
"Men who like to believe that they know more than their wives would not be happy with a woman like Margot for wife. She knows more than most men, and there is scarcely anything she cannot or will not talk about.
"She wrote a book that is an encyclopedia of the inside history of British politics and history of her time.
"There aren't many like Margot. Husbands who long after the honeymoon like to be entertained will envy Asquith hisMargot. It must be pleasant to have a Margot in the house."
I expect the writer was pulling my leg—to use a slang expression—or possibly pitying my husband, but it amused me.
XII.INTERESTING ST. LOUIS
MET BY THE MAYOR—ANOTHER INTELLIGENT REPORTER—NEWS FROM HOME AND VIEWS THEREON—LUNCHEON AT WOMEN'S CLUB
WE were met at St. Louis station by a vast crowd of photographers, reporters—male and female—headed by the Mayor, a grand fellow called Henry W. Kiel. He motored me to the Hotel Statler where my rooms were full of roses and, in spite of an iron bed, we were more than comfortable. I am like stuff that is guaranteed not to wash, so I sat down at once to talk to the reporters, among whom I observed one man of supreme intelligence. Caustic and bitter, he interrupted the females and asked to be allowed to return to us after dinner. Mr. Paul Anderson and Ihad a first rate discussion, while my secretary typed and telephoned till, with his usual consideration, he came back to send me to bed, where I remained like a trout on a bank with piles of oldTimes'swhich Mr. Anderson had brought me.
I read details, for the first time, of Mr. Montague's resignation, and smiled over the belated theory of the joint responsibility of our British Cabinet. When one recalls the many conflicting opinions expressed by every minister without rebuke, culminating in the Admiralty note upon the Geddes Report, the Prime Minister's indignation is more than droll. I presume the Conservative wing of the Coalition wanted to get rid of Indian Reform as interpreted by the Viceroy and Mr. Montague, and I shall watch with interest the action that Lord Reading will take upon the matter.
Arresting Ghandi was as unwise as stealing a cow from a temple; but from such a distance political comment may be as belated as the theory of cabinet responsibility; and the inspired agitator—beloved ofhis people—may, for all I know, be governing India at the present moment.
St. Louis is among the most interesting cities I have visited. The Mississippi is commanded upon both its banks by huge buildings, and spanned by grand bridges. There is a private park as large as the Bois de Boulogne, and an open air theatre with oak trees on either side of the stage. The school buildings and Washington College are of perfect architecture, and I was grateful to Mrs. Moore—a woman of sympathy and authority—for driving me out to a lovely club house for tea, which gave me an opportunity of seeing the environment.
I was entertained the next day at a private luncheon given by a ladies' club and was glad to be sitting next to dear Mrs. Moore. Observing a single gentleman seated among the company I asked in a whisper who he was; upon being told he was a reporter I said, in an aside to my other neighbour, that for the rest of the meal I would confine my remarks to: "Yes," "No," or "I wonder!" and "How true!" Upon thisthe unfortunate young man was conducted from the room. He had a peculiarly charming face and when I saw what had happened I said I was afraid I also would have to leave the table, as I could not allow any guest to be insulted for my sake; at which he was allowed to return. I apologised to him, saying that though I had imagined this to be an informal gathering at which no newspapers would be represented, I did not wish him to be treated with any lack of courtesy, and hoped he would not make copy out of any foolish thing I might have said. He was particularly nice and, although I shall probably never see what he has written about me, I am willing to "take a chance"—as they express it over here.
After signing my name twenty-three times—as flattering as it was fatiguing—the Mayor came to fetch me away. Mrs. Moore and two other ladies accompanied us on a motor drive to see the city. The Mayor—who is a big man—sat rather uncomfortably between me and Mrs. Moore, and said that, with the permission of the other two ladieshe proposed to put his arm round my waist as, being engaged to speak at a meeting of the Boy Scouts, he would be unable to attend my lecture in the evening. I told him that, after this, nothing but bribery and corruption could re-elect him as the Mayor of St. Louis.
"Then I shall return to my original occupation, Mrs. Asquith; I started life as a bricklayer, and I have not forgotten my trade, at which I am unrivalled."
The ladies said he was much more likely to be returned as their political representative, and after asking "Joe," his chauffeur, to stop and enable him to buy me cigarettes, he took me back to the hotel.
I found a beautiful bouquet of orchids on my table to which was pinned a card from one of the ladies whom I had met at lunch:
"From Mrs. Hocker, with best wishes for a successful evening at St. Louis, to absolutely the most brilliant and interesting woman it has been my privilege to meet either in America or Europe."
I need hardly say that I clung to mybouquet that evening when I was escorted upon the stage by Judge Henry Caulfield, the City Counsellor.
Mr. Anderson of the St. LouisPost-Dispatchreturned to talk to us after the meeting, and I can truly say that after "Bruce"—whose real name I never discovered—I found him the most interesting press-man that I have met. I wrote to his editor congratulating him on having such a man upon his staff, and received a grateful reply.
Never having been interviewed till I arrived in this country, I do not know in what way reporters of intellect here would compare with ours, but it passes my comprehension to understand why those that I have met are content to write for papers that seldom print what is either informing or interesting.
One of them said to me:
"We do not publish news, Mrs. Asquith, we concoct it."
XIII.KANSAS CITY AND OMAHA
AMERICAN VOICES RARELY MUSICAL—SEES LOVELY COUNTRY HOME—DISCUSSION ON CHARACTER BUILDING—MARGOT PREDICTS GREAT FUTURE FOR GOVERNOR ALLEN
WE travelled to Kansas City the night of the lecture and were met upon our arrival and taken to the country house of Mrs. Edwin Shields.
After greeting her, I observed her fine tapestries, oriental china, portraits (by Sir Joshua Reynolds), and other old masters, as well as modern French pictures. We ate porridge, eggs and bacon and grapefruit for breakfast, off an oak table with Irish linen napkins, and I observed the refinement of my hostess's little face, and the pretty quality of her voice.
I do not think the voices here are generally musical; they are nasal and a little loud and, though Americans have a great deal of geniality and love of fun, I am so slow at picking up the language, that I probably miss much of the irony andfinessethat characterises our better kind of humour. The Canadians, who are of British stock, have a better sense of humour; but it is always a dangerous subject to write about, and when I remember the stupid things that evoke the laughter of the London public in our theatres, I feel I had better walk warily.
I am Scotch, and as a nation we have been accused of lack of humour; I cannot be expected to agree with this, nevertheless I remember being told in my youth of a man who had said:
"Oh! aye; Jock undoubtedly jokes, but he jokes with facility. I joke too, but with difficulty."
The French have a far finer sense of humour than any other nation in the world, and all they say is a constant source of delight to me.
It is pardonable not to laugh at what is amusing, but sudden guffaws at bad jokes is the test of a true sense of humour.
After breakfasting with Mrs. Shields I asked her to show me over her beautiful house. I was reminded of Glen by the freshness of the chintzes, and general feeling of air and comfort which I saw wherever I went.
We started at midday for Omaha, where we arrived in the evening. I felt less sad at parting with my hostess as I knew I was going to spend from 7 a.m. till midnight with her on the 24th. She is coming to Europe this summer where I shall look forward to entertaining her in London, as well as in the country.
After leaving her, Mr. Horton told me she had said to him that till she met me, she felt like a flower that had grown on clay soil, and that I had helped her to break into the sunlight. I was deeply touched, and am encouraged to hope that some day I may be worthy of so rare a compliment.
Upon our arrival at Omaha we were metby an open motor lent by Mrs. Kountze, who had invited us to stay with her in her town house, but fearing that three of us might be embarrassing, we decided to go to the hotel.
Omaha is a lovely city, with avenues of trees on either side of wide boulevards, and within easy reach of stretches of wild and beautiful country. As our hostess had been obliged to go to New York, her kind relations conducted us to see the wonderful views surrounding the town.
After speaking in the afternoon to an encouraging audience, with Mr. Hall, the British Consul, as my chairman, I dined with Mr. and Mrs. Ward Burgess. They were more than hospitable, and had it not been for the severe figure of my secretary standing in the doorway, my jolly host, who had entertained me for two hours at dinner, would have prevented me from catching the midnight train.
We returned to Kansas City early on the morning of the 24th.
On being informed by Mrs. Shields'sbutler that her maid had already called her, I had a bath and, dressing as quickly as I could, went downstairs.
Her sitting room was a garden of roses, lilies and antirrhinums and I shall always remember our unforgettabletête-à-tête.
We started upon personality, and the difficulty of expressing what was true without hurting anyone, or acquiring character without becoming a character part. The difference between originality and eccentricity; kindness and tenderness; sympathy and understanding; and the delicate grades by which your attempts at goodness may either help or hamper your fellow creatures.
It is an eternal problem; and the morally lenient and socially severe is what you encounter every day of your life. I confessed how much I resented the shortness of life and urged her to realise this, as she appeared to me, in spite of having a genius for friendship, to be self-contained and lonely. She was responsive, and said many encouraging things to me. I said that somewhere or other I had read that Marcus Aureliushad begged us to keep our colour. I was not very sure of the correct text; but that the idea was that some of us were born red, some yellow, and others grey, but that however this might be, the point was to keep it; not so much by contrast or conflict with the other person, but to complement it. Great scientists, mathematicians or philosophers may manage to develop their personality alone, but what they write will not have the key that the writings of men who are nearer the earth are able to present to ordinary human beings.
At one of Abraham Lincoln's great meetings, he had to walk through the crowd to reach the platform. He heard someone say as he passed:
"IsthatPresident Lincoln? Why, what a common-looking fellow!"
At which he turned round and said:
"God likes common-looking fellows or he would not have made so many of them."
I told her how much I had been moved by her remark to my secretary that our friendship would help her to emerge out ofclay soil; adding that the desire of my life was to replant myself in a bigger pot every year, and that what she had said would encourage me to go on. After a certain age we were liable to become stationary; and the ravages of war so far from having regenerated, had retarded civilisation.
We were interrupted by Mr. Henry J. Allen, a guest who arrived long before the luncheon hour.
The Governor of the State of Kansas is a man of authority—not only intelligent but intellectual, always a rare combination, and it needs no witch to predict a great future for him. He remained at Mrs. Shields's lovely house in Cherry Street from 11.30 till 6 in the evening,in spite of having an appointment at 4, by which I inferred he could do what he liked.
XIV.THE WAR AND PROHIBITION
HEATED DISCUSSION ON ENGLAND'S ENTRY INTO THE WAR—OUR GERMAN FRIENDS—AMERICAN VITALITY—MISQUOTED ON PROHIBITION
Isat next to Mr. Heath Moore at lunch and discussed many subjects; among others, the motives that had brought Great Britain into the war. He expressed himself with vigour and frankness, and said that nothing would induce him to believe that our purpose had been moral. That our trade was in danger of being out-rivalled, and the German navy had developed into such a formidable menace, that after France had been defeated, our own shores would have been immediately attacked by the Germans; it was therefore humbug to suggest that our motive had not been one of pure self defence.
As this was the first anti-British note that I had heard since my arrival, it interested me.
I asked him where he imagined our ships would be when the German dreadnoughts sailed into our harbours: and what sort of reception the British people were likely to give the enemy crew, even supposing it could land an army—never a very easy matter—and concluded by saying I had not been kept awake by the fear that the Kaiser would succeed where Napoleon had failed. He stuck to his point and said that but for the violation of Belgium we would not have entered into the war. I answered that no doubt this had made it easier for the party in power—of which my husband was the head—because among the many convictions that divide Liberals from Conservatives is that we believe in freedom, while they believe in force: and that imperialism meant militarism against which we would fight for ever. But, I added, no British Government of whatever party would have watched with folded arms the whole Germannavy sail down our coast to attack France.
He inquired if my husband had felt any qualmswhen he took upon his shoulders this great decision. I answered that our Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward now Lord Grey, Lord Crewe, and others, had made up their minds from the first moment; and that in one year—thanks to the Committee of Defence, Lord Haldane and Lord Kitchener—we had produced a large voluntary army; and had he been in England at the time, he would have been struck by the pathos and silence with which men of every class joined up to fight in a war which was not their own, against a foe for whom they felt no hatred.
He asked if England had been disappointed that America had come in so late to help her, I confessed that in a moment of pique I had exclaimed that had I been Christopher Columbus I would have said nothing about the discovery, but that I doubted if Great Britain would have come in any earlier to help the United States had they been in a similar quandary.
Someone asked me privately if I had losta child in the war. I said that my little boy had been too young to fight, but that both my sisters, my three brothers and my husband had lost their sons; that living in Downing Street in the first years of the war had been an anguish, the depth of which no one could realise.
We had refused to drop any of our German friends in London, and in consequence became targets for the abuse and calumny of our social and political enemies.
It is a subject that rouses me to undying indignation when I remember the manner in which we were persecuted, not only by our opponents, but by some of my personal friends even after we had been defeated in the General Election of 1918. One of the candidates said that she had often been to Downing Street on matters of vital importance during the war and had been struck by the lack of feeling shown by myself and my husband.
Mr. Heath Moore gave me an account of the savage manner with which the German population over here had been treated whenAmerica joined the Allies. He told me among other things, that one of his fellow-countrymen in a great recruiting speech had been interrupted by a man in the gallery who was understood to have shouted: "Hurrah for the Kaiser!" At which he was kicked and beaten down the stairs to the street and, but for the intervention of a policeman, would have been killed. When asked what he had done, the unfortunate German said his only son had been killed in the war and that he had shouted: "To hell with the Kaiser!"
This was mild compared to some of the cruelties related.
It is always dangerous to generalise, but the American people, while infinitely generous, are a hard and strong race and, but for the few cemeteries I have seen, I am inclined to think they never die. They thrive in rooms as hot as conservatories, can sit up all night, eat candy and ice-cream all day, and live to a great age upon either social or commercial excitement without leisure.