XIXTACTAn Important Factor of Success.—Better than Diplomacy.—Some Noted Possessors of Tact.—James G. Blaine.—King Edward VII.—Queen Alexandra.—Henry Ward Beecher.—Mme. Patti.—Mrs. Ronalds.—Mrs. Cleveland—Mrs. Langtry.—Colonel Ingersoll.—Mrs. Kendall.—General Sherman.—Chauncey M. Depew.—Mrs. James Brown Potter.—Mme. Nordica.
An Important Factor of Success.—Better than Diplomacy.—Some Noted Possessors of Tact.—James G. Blaine.—King Edward VII.—Queen Alexandra.—Henry Ward Beecher.—Mme. Patti.—Mrs. Ronalds.—Mrs. Cleveland—Mrs. Langtry.—Colonel Ingersoll.—Mrs. Kendall.—General Sherman.—Chauncey M. Depew.—Mrs. James Brown Potter.—Mme. Nordica.
I have had the good fortune to meet a great many distinguished people, and the misfortune of hearing many of these talked of afterward as if human greatness was merely a machine, which had some peculiar secret of motion. I don’t like to listen to analyses of my friends and acquaintances; it is too much like vivisection; it is unkind to the subject and hardens whoever conducts the operation.
Besides, I have a theory of my own as to greatness. It is that tact is generally the secret. Almost all famous men and women admit that certain other people are superior to them at their own special work. They will attribute some of their success to luck and some to accident, but the close observer can usually see that tact hashad far more influence than either, for success depends largely on getting along well with other people, and nothing but tact can assure this.
Diplomacy alone cannot take the place of tact, for it comes only from the head; tact is from the heart. The prominent people to whom I refer did not lack great qualities of head; they would have failed without them, but these alone would have been insufficient without the softer sense—“The inmost one,” as Hawthorne named it; the quality to which Oliver Wendell Holmes referred when he said—“I am getting in by the side door.” Diplomacy, as distinguished from tact, is something with a string to it: or playing for a place; tact is a subtle, timely touch from the heart.
A few years ago I returned from Europe on the steamer with Mr. James G. Blaine. Every one on board wanted to talk with him and learn of things which taste and prudence forbade his mentioning. Yet Mr. Blaine was so tactful throughout this ordeal, that no one suffered a rebuff and every one became his friend. He went further by discovering the good but shrinking people who in a great ship became isolated, and bringing them into the general company and conversation. Yet all the while he was a model to many other married men on board by his constant and knightly courtesy to his own wife.
I have referred elsewhere to the tact of King Edward VII of Great Britain, the most popular sovereign in Europe. This quality is not restricted to public purposes; his acquaintances know that it is untiringly exercised for the benefit of Queen Alexandra, of whose deafness he is never unmindful. Often, when I had the honor to entertain the royal family and their friends, it was my duty to face the King (then Prince of Wales). Sometimes this placed me—embarrassingly too, with my back to the greater part of the audience. But the Prince was regardless of custom and his own royal prerogative, when his consort’s enjoyment was endangered; on one occasion when he saw that the Princess was not hearing me distinctly, he said softly to me, “Mr. Wilder, kindly turn your face toward the Princess!”
And Her Royal Highness is as tactful as he. The audience at a special entertainment given the Shah of Persia in London included the most distinguished and wealthy people in the city. I was among those engaged to entertain the Shah, beside whom sat the Princess (now Queen Alexandra). As His Persian Majesty was ignorant of the English language it was not strange that he held his programme upside down. This might have occasioned a laugh and caused the Shah some mortification had not the Princess deftly turnedher own programme upside down and kept it so during the performance.
“The Shah held His Program Upside Down.”
“The Shah held His Program Upside Down.”
One of the “nerviest” illustrations of tact is to the credit of Henry Ward Beecher. After the war, he made a lecture tour of the South and appeared at Mozart Hall, Richmond, with an address entitled, “The North and The South.” He was rather doubtful as to the reception he would have but he knew what he wanted and was determined to get it. No applause welcomed him as he appeared on the platform, but a few hisses were heard in the gallery. In the better rows of seats were some grim ex-Confederates—GeneralFitzhugh Lee, General Rosser, ex-Governor Smith, Governor Cameron and others. Beecher fixed his eye directly on Lee and said—(I quote a newspaper report of the incident):
“I have seen pictures of General Fitzhugh Lee, sir, and I assume you are the man. Am I right?”
The General, slightly taken back by this direct address, nodded stiffly, while the audience bent forward, breathless with curiosity as to what was going to follow.
“Then,” said Mr. Beecher, his face lighting up, “I want to offer you this right hand, which, in its own way, fought against you and yours, years ago, but which I would now willingly sacrifice to make the sunny South prosperous and happy. Will you take it, General?” There was a moment’s hesitation, a moment of deathlike stillness in the hall, and then Fitzhugh Lee was on his feet, his hand was extended across the footlights and was quickly met by the warm grasp of the preacher’s. At first there was a murmur, half of surprise and half of doubtfulness from the audience, then there was a hesitating clapping of hands, and before Beecher had unloosed the hand of Robert E. Lee’s nephew, there were cheers such as were never before heard in old Mozart, though it had been the scene of many a war and political meeting. But this was onlythe beginning of the enthusiasm. When the noise subsided, Mr. Beecher continued,
“When I go back home, I shall proudly tell that I have grasped the hand of the nephew of the great Southern Chieftain; I shall tell my people that I went to the Confederate capital with a heart full of love for the people whom my principles once obliged me to oppose and that I was met half-way by the brave Southerners, who can forgive as well as they can fight.”
Five minutes of applause followed, and then, Mr. Beecher, having gained the hearts of his audience, began his lecture and was applauded to the echo. That night, he entered his carriage and drove to his hotel amid shouts such as have never greeted a Northern man in Richmond since the war.
Women who are prominent as hostesses are always remarkable for tact. No matter how they may differ in years, beauty, tastes, nationality, attainments and means, they are classed together by their tact, in the minds of men who know them and know also how arduous are the duties of a successful hostess. I know many such women,—Madame Patti, Mrs. Ronalds, who is one of the most distinguished Americans in London, Mrs. John A. Mackey, the Baroness de Bazus (Mrs. Frank Leslie), Mrs. Kendal—but I could fill a chapter with names. The power ofthese women in the drawing-room is simply marvelous. Their consummate tact is something for civilization in general to be proud of. It matters not if they are not in their best health and spirits and mood; everything uncongenial in themselves is hidden by their gracious welcome, like Hamlet’s father’s ghost by the rising sun. In a large company there is likely to be a social knot or tangle that would appal a well meaning novice in the rôle of hostess, but the woman who is fit for the position knows what to ignore and what to illumine.
“There is Apt to Be a Social Tangle.”
“There is Apt to Be a Social Tangle.”
And cleverness at introductions in a large company—what a world of tact it requires! Small wonder that introductions are few at most fashionableaffairs. But the tactful hostess keeps untoward spirits apart and welds congenial souls together; some of the world’s closest friendships have come of able hostesses’ introductions of people who otherwise would never have met.
But what keen watchfulness and knowledge this presupposes, of the jealousies, petty or large, whether in politics, literature, art, the drama, of a large assemblage of representative people! It requires nothing less than genius to peep into the nooks and crannies of the hearts about them, throbbing with varied purposes and passions, but these women possess it. Hence they are centres in themselves, about which antipathetic souls may gather with a common good-will and cordial good word. It takes all these qualities to be a leader in society: many women possess them, but compared with all who should, how few they are!
I know one woman who possesses them all supremely. She is a wonder, even among Americans. Her name is Mrs. Grover Cleveland. Think of that schoolgirl passing from books to White House receptions and diplomatic balls, from the quick but embarrassed flush of eighteen years, to the sustained, well-poised position of first lady of the land “all in a twinkling” and, more’s the wonder, all in a triumph! She went through her ordeal at Washington, forit was an ordeal, without having an enemy in that Babel of bickerings, cunning social plots and desperate plunges after prestige. The platform of the politicians was tariff reform, the people’s was Mr. Cleveland, little Ruth, furnishing the “Bye Baby Bunting” plank.
The way this remarkable woman earned love and respect, was illustrated by a little scene, that came under my eye at Lakewood. The parlor of the hotel is so large that men can stand at one end of it with their hats on and escape criticism. But one day, when Mrs. Cleveland, unattended, entered at the other end, with girlish haste and captivating naturalness, all heads were uncovered in an instant. She merely wished to find a friend who was dining at the time, so she walked to the table of her friend. All eyes were upon her, but she manifested no consciousness. She with her friend slipped out of the room and into the elevator, and probably up-stairs for a cozy chat. She was not thinking of the admiring glances of hundreds, but only in a great-hearted, every-day way of her friend. Such is the woman. She has won her crown, woven from the blossoms of the people’s love, and she wears it gracefully.
No woman of my acquaintance has more tact than Mrs. Langtry. I will guarantee, that her use of it will win any man who may meet her.When she was last in New York a certain newspaper man was “cutting” her savagely. Did she horsewhip him after the manner of some indignant actress? Nay, nay! First she learned who he was, then she determined to meet him. Her manager invited the young man to dine with him at Delmonico’s, and the invitation was accepted. While at dinner the manager accidentally (?) saw Mrs. Langtry, at another table, in the same great dining-room and exclaimed,
“By Jove! There’s Mrs. Langtry! Would you like to meet her?” The scribe hesitated; then consented. “First, let me ask her permission,” adroitly continued the manager.
“I shall be delighted to meet him,” was the lady’s reply. Two moments later the scribe and the actress were in close conversation; the young man was invited to Langtry’s hotel; he walked down Broadway with her to the Hoffman House, and he knew a thousand men saw him and envied him. In the following week, his paper contained a beautiful article on Langtry. The question may be asked, “Was this tact or diplomacy?” But every one ought to know that mere diplomacy could never make a dramatic critic change his tone so startlingly.
But tact is not confined to incidents in the world’s eye. Several years ago, when thatclever and beautiful young woman Mrs. James G. Blaine, Jr. (now Mrs. Dr. Bull), was greatly afflicted with rheumatism, her friend, Mrs. Kendal, the well known English actress, advised massage. Mrs. Blaine objected, she disliked the idea, but Mrs. Kendal won her over by calling every day and massaging the sufferer with her own hands.
Men can do the tactful thing as well as women, and it is to their credit that they often do it when they can’t imagine that any one will ever know of it but the beneficiary. One rainy day at Broadway and Twenty-third Street, an ill-clad, shivering fellow stood, probably he had nowhere in particular to go, and would rather look at people than think of himself and his condition. I saw a tall, stout man with an intellectual, kind face stop, hold his umbrella over the tramp, and engage him in conversation; it was a mean place to stand, too, for crowds were hurrying past the big policeman standing at the crossing. I dashed in front of the chap the instant the tall man left him.
“See what that man gave me!” he said, showing me a two dollar bill.
“It’s no wonder,” I replied; “that was Colonel Bob Ingersoll!”
“Hully gee!” the man exclaimed. “I’ve heard o’ him. And here’s what else he gaveme—listen.” The Colonel had told him the story of “Nobody’s Dog,” as follows:—
“A poor brute of a dog entered a hotel with three travelers. ‘Walk in, gents,’ said the host heartily. ‘Fine dog, that; is he yours, sir?’
“‘No,’ said one of the men, and ‘No,’ ‘No,’ repeated the others.
“I Saw Him Hold His Umbrella Over a Tramp.”
“I Saw Him Hold His Umbrella Over a Tramp.”
“‘Then he’s nobody’s dog,’ said the host, as he kicked the cur into the street.
“You’re nobody’s dog, but here you are,” said the Colonel in conclusion, pressing the money into his hand and hurrying away.
I have myself been the gainer by the tact of some men, who would have been excusable forhaving their minds full of some one of more importance, so I am correspondingly grateful. Dear General Sherman was one of these; his tact was as effective in civil life as his armies had been on the battle-field. In the fall of 1899, just after I had published my book—“The People I Have Smiled With,” I received the following written by the General’s private secretary.
“My dear Sir:“I beg you to accept my hearty thanks for a copy of your book, the same which, I assure you, will give me much pleasure in perusing.“With best wishes, as always, I am,“Your friend,(Signed) “W. T. Sherman, General.”
“My dear Sir:
“I beg you to accept my hearty thanks for a copy of your book, the same which, I assure you, will give me much pleasure in perusing.
“With best wishes, as always, I am,
“Your friend,
(Signed) “W. T. Sherman, General.”
Evidently the General thought a moment after signing the above, for he wrote at the bottom of the sheet “Over,” where he added in his own handwriting:
“Pardon me for this seemingly formal answer to your bright and cheery volume, which, as yet, I have merely glanced at, but contemplate much pleasure and profit in reading. The ‘Introduction,’ by our mutual friend ‘Cockerill,’ is so touching that it calls for the sympathetic tear, rather than a smile; so are your opening words in the first chapter about your acquaintance with Beecher, etc., etc. But more in the hereafter.“I am glad you enroll me in your list offriends, and will be only too happy to smile with you in person over your types, as occasion may require.“Your sincere friend,“W. T. Sherman.”
“Pardon me for this seemingly formal answer to your bright and cheery volume, which, as yet, I have merely glanced at, but contemplate much pleasure and profit in reading. The ‘Introduction,’ by our mutual friend ‘Cockerill,’ is so touching that it calls for the sympathetic tear, rather than a smile; so are your opening words in the first chapter about your acquaintance with Beecher, etc., etc. But more in the hereafter.
“I am glad you enroll me in your list offriends, and will be only too happy to smile with you in person over your types, as occasion may require.
“Your sincere friend,
“W. T. Sherman.”
I might also call attention to the above as an illustration of the occasional opaqueness of the private secretary as a medium between great men and their personal friends, however humble.
I was at Chicago’s famous hotel, “The Auditorium” during the dedicatory exercises of the Columbian Exposition, more popularly known as “Chicago’s World’s Fair.” A great dinner had been given the evening before to men distinguished throughout the world. The affair was under the direction of the Fellowship Club, prominent in which was Editor Scott of the ChicagoHerald, and such a gathering of famous men I had never seen before. Richard Harding Davis described it graphically inHarper’s Weekly.
Next morning quite naturally, the atmosphere of the hotel was hazy and dazy. Such of us as dropped into the café for breakfast were not especially “noticing.”
I sat alone at the end of the room. In came Chauncey M. Depew with a handsome young lady. Before long his quick eye discerned me in my isolation. He arose, walked the entire length of that great room, leaned over me and said,
“Marsh, most through your breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Then come over and be introduced to my niece. She wants to meet the celebrities of the day.” Continuing he was kind enough to say that some of my recently delivered jokes were new, and he must have been right, for I heard afterward that he used them himself. But many men of less importance would have sent a waiter for me instead of coming in person; many more would have succeeded in not seeing me at all.
When Mrs. James Brown Potter first visited London, she was chaperoned by Mrs. Paran Stevens, whose daughter, Lady Paget, was a member of the Prince’s set, and had full entrée to all social circles. On one occasion Mr. Wilson Barrett set aside a box for Mrs. Stevens, Mrs. Potter, and their friends, I being among the number invited to see “Clito” performed.
In London it is the pleasant custom for the actor-manager to send up refreshments, ices, etc., between the acts, and invite his guests down into his dressing-room. Eccentric Mrs. Stevens hesitated when asked to join us all in going down-stairs to visit Mr. Barrett between the acts. It may have been that she did not wish to incur a social obligation, but whatever the reason, Mrs. Potter, with infinite tact, assumed the rôle of charmed and charming guest, allowing Mrs.Stevens to remain quietly unobserved and free from any future embarrassment.
Mme. Nordica displayed her charming tactfulness one Sunday at a musicale given by Mrs. Ronalds in London. It was when peace was declared between England and the Boers. The news arrived about 4P. M.Instantly Mme. Nordica sprang to her feet, and sang “God Save the King.” It was most inspiring, coming just as it did, and those who were present will never forget how the people stood about clapping their hands and rejoicing over this great event, which was announced by an American.