by George Ade
Produced by Al Haines
Cover art]
[Frontispiece: _Holds it the same as a slide trombone_]
IN PASTURES NEW
BY
GEORGE ADE
TORONTO
THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY, LIMITED
1906
_Copyright, 1906, by_
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.
Published, October, 1906
Copyright, 1906, by George Ade
_Many of the letters appearing in this volume were printed in asyndicate of newspapers in the early months of 1906. With theseletters have been incorporated extracts from letters written to theChicago Record in 1895 and 1898. For the use of the letters whichfirst appeared in the Chicago Record, acknowledgment is due Mr. VictorF. Lawson._
CONTENTS
_In London_
CHAPTER
I. Getting Acquainted with the English Language II. A Life on the Ocean Wave, with Modern Variations III. With Mr. Peasley in Darkest London IV. How it Feels to Get into London and then be Engulfed V. As to the Importance of the Passport and the Handy Little Cable Code VI. What one Man Picked up in London and Sent Back to His Brother
_In Paris_
VII. How an American Enjoys Life for Eight Minutes at a Time VIII. A Chapter of French Justice as Dealt Out in the Dreyfus Case IX. The Story of What Happened to an American Consul
_In Naples_
X. Mr. Peasley and His Vivid Impressions of Foreign Parts
_In Cairo_
XI. Cairo as the Annual Stamping Ground for Americans and Why They Make the Trip XII. Round about Cairo, with and without the Assistance of the Dragoman or Simon Legree of the Orient XIII. All about our Visit to the Pyramid of Cheops XIV. Dashing up the Nile in Company with Mr. Peasley and Others XV. Day by Day on the Drowsy Nile, with Something about the Wonderful Hassim XVI. The Mohammedan Fly and other Creatures along the Nile XVII. In and around Luxor, with a Side Light on Rameses the Great XVIII. The Ordinary Human Failings of the Ancient Moguls XIX. Royal Tombs and other Places of Amusement
_In Cairo_
XX. Mr. Peasley and his Final Size-up of Egypt
IN LONDON
CHAPTER I
GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE
It may be set down as a safe proposition that every man is a bewilderedmaverick when he wanders out of his own little bailiwick. Did you eversee a stock broker on a stock farm, or a cow puncher at the Waldorf?
A man may be a large duck in his private puddle, but when he strikesdeep and strange waters he forgets how to swim.
Take some captain of industry who resides in a large city of the MiddleWest. At home he is unquestionably IT. Everyone knows the size of hisbank account, and when he rides down to business in the morning theconductor of the trolley holds the car for him. His fellow passengersare delighted to get a favouring nod from him. When he sails into thenew office building the elevator captain gives him a cheery butdeferential "good morning." In his private office he sits at a $500roll top desk from Grand Rapids, surrounded by push buttons, and whenhe gives the word someone is expected to hop. At noon he goes to hisclub for luncheon. The head waiter jumps over two chairs to get at himand relieve him of his hat and then leads him to the most desirabletable and hovers over him even as a mother hen broods over her firstborn.
This Distinguished Citizen, director of the First National Bank,trustee of the Cemetery Association, member of the Advisory Committeeof the Y.M.C.A., president of the Saturday Night Poker Club, head ofthe Commercial Club, and founder of the Wilson County TrottingAssociation, is a whale when he is seated on his private throne in thecorn belt. He rides the whirlwind and commands the storm. The localpaper speaks of him in bated capital letters, and he would be more orless than human if he failed to believe that he was a very large gun.
Take this same Business Behemoth and set him down in Paris or Rome orNaples. With a red guide book clutched helplessly in his left hand andhis right hand free, so that he can dig up the currency of the realmevery thirty seconds, he sets forth to become acquainted with mediaevalarchitecture and the work of the old masters. He is just as helplessand apprehensive as a country boy at Coney Island. The guides andcabmen bullyrag him. Newsboys and beggars pester him with impunity.Children in the street stop to laugh at his Kansas City hat known tothe trade as a Fedora. When he goes into a shop the polite brigandbehind the showcase charges him two prices and gives him bad money forchange.
_Stop to laugh at his Kansas City hat_]
Why? Because he is in a strange man's town, stripped of his localimportance and battling with a foreign language. The man who cannottalk back immediately becomes a weakling.
What is the chief terror to travel? It is the lonesomeness of feelingthat one cannot adapt himself to the unfamiliar background andtherefore is sure to attract more or less attention as a curio. And inwhat city does this feeling of lonesomeness become most overwhelming?In London.
The American must go to England in order to learn for a dead certaintythat he does not speak the English language. On the Continent if hekicks on the charges and carries a great deal of hand luggage and hisclothes do not fit him any too well he may be mistaken for anEnglishman. This great joy never awaits him in London.
I do not wish to talk about myself, yet I can say with truthfulnessthat I have been working for years to enrich the English language.Most of the time I have been years ahead of the dictionaries. I havebeen so far ahead of the dictionaries that sometimes I fear they willnever catch up. It has been my privilege to use words that are unknownto Lindley Murray. Andrew Lang once started to read my works and thensank with a bubbling cry and did not come up for three days.
It seems that in my efforts to enrich the English language I made ittoo rich, and some who tried it afterward complained of mentalgastritis. In one of my fables, written in pure and undefiled Chicago,reference was made to that kind of a _table d'hote_ restaurant whichserves an Italian dinner for sixty cents. This restaurant was called a"spaghetti joint." Mr. Lang declared that the appellation wasaltogether preposterous, as it is a well-known fact that spaghetti hasno joints, being invertebrate and quite devoid of osseous tissue, thesame as a caterpillar. Also he thought that "cinch" was merely amisspelling of "sink," something to do with a kitchen. Now if anAmerican reeking with the sweet vernacular of his native land cannotmake himself understood by one who is familiar with all the ins andouts of our language, what chance has he with the ordinary Londoner,who gets his vocabulary from reading the advertisements carried bysandwich men?
This pitiful fact comes home to every American when he arrives inLondon--there are two languages, the English and the American. One iscorrect; the other is incorrect. One is a pure and limpid stream; theother is a stagnant pool, swarming with bacilli. In front of a shop inParis is a sign, "English spoken--American understood." This sign isjust as misleading as every other sign in Paris. If our English cannotbe understood right here in England, what chance have we amongstrangers?
One of the blessed advantages of coming here to England is that everyAmerican, no matter how old he may be or how often he has assisted atthe massacre of the mother tongue, may begin to get a correct line onthe genuine English speech. A few Americans, say fifty or more inBoston and several in New York, are said to speak English in spots.Very often they fan, but sometimes they hit the ball. By patientendeavor they have mastered the sound of "a" as in "father," but theycontinue to call a clerk a clerk, instead of a "clark," and they neverhave gained the courage to say "leftenant." They wander on the suburbsof the English language, nibbling at the edges, as it were. Anyoneliving west of Pittsburg is still lost in the desert.
Yesterday, however, I had the rare and almost delirious pleasure ofmeeting an upper class Englishman. He has family, social position,wealth, several capital letters trailing after his name (which is longenough without an appendix), an ancestry, a glorious past and possiblya future. Usually an American has to wait in London eight or ten yearsbefore he meets an Englishman who is not trying to sell him dressshirts or something to put on his hair. In two short days--practicallyat one bound--I had realised the full ambition of my countrymen.
Before being presented to the heavy swell I was taken into the chamberof meditation by the American who was to accompany me on this flight toglory. He prepared me for the ceremony by whispering to me that thechap we were about to meet went everywhere and saw everybody; that hewas a Varsity man and had shot big game and had a place up country, andcouldn't remember the names of all his clubs--had to hire a man by theyear just to remember the names of his clubs.
May I confess that I was immensely flattered to know that I could meetthis important person? When we are at long range we throw bricks atthe aristocracy and landed gentry, but when we come close to them wetremble violently and are much pleased if they differentiate us fromthe furniture of the room.
_Just to remember the names of his clubs_]
Why not tell the truth for once? I was tickled and overheated withbliss to know that this social lion was quite willing to sit alongsideof me and breathe the adjacent atmosphere.
Also I was perturbed and stage frightened because I knew that I spokenothing but the American language, and that probably I used my noseinstead of my vocal chords in giving expression to such thoughts asmight escape from me. Furthermore, I was afraid that during ourconversation I might accidentally lapse into slang, and I knew that inGreat Britain slang is abhorred above every other earthly thing exceptgoods of German manufacture. So I resolved to be on my guard and tryto come as near to English speech as it is possible for anyone to comeafter he has walked up and down State street for ten years.
My real and ulterior motive in welcoming this interview with aregistered Englishman was to get, free of charge, an allopathic dose of24-karat English. I wanted to bask in the bright light of an intellectthat had no flickers in it and absorb some of the infallibility that isso prevalent in these parts.
We met. I steadied myself and said:--"I'm glad to know you--that is, Iam extremely pleased to have the honour of making your acquaintance."
He looked at me with a kindly light in his steel blue eye, and after ashort period of deliberation spoke as follows:--"Thanks."
"_Thanks_"]
"The international developments of recent years have been such asshould properly engender a feeling of the warmest brotherhood betweenall branches of the Anglo-Saxon race," I said. "I don't think that anyfair-minded American has it in for Great Britain--that is, it seems tome that all former resentment growing out of early conflicts betweenthe two countries has given way to a spirit of tolerant understanding.Do you not agree with me?"
He hesitated for a moment, as if not desiring to commit himself by ahasty or impassioned reply, and then delivered himself asfollows:--"Quite."
"It seems to me," I said, following the same line of thought, "thatfair-minded people on both sides of the water are getting sore--thatis, losing patience with the agitators who preach the old doctrine thatour attitude toward Great Britain is necessarily one of enmity. Wecannot forget that when the European Powers attempted to concert theirinfluence against the United States at the outset of the late war withSpain you bluffed them out--that is, you induced them to relinquishtheir unfriendly intentions. Every thoughtful man in America is on tothis fact--that is, he understands how important was the service yourendered us--and he is correspondingly grateful. The American peopleand the English people speak the same language, theoretically. Ourinterests are practically identical in all parts of the world--that is,we are trying to do everybody, and so are you. What I want to conveyis that neither nation can properly work out its destiny except byco-operating with the other. Therefore any policy looking toward aseverance of friendly relations is unworthy of consideration."
"Rot!" said he.
"Just at present all Americans are profoundly grateful to the Britishpublic for its generous recognition of the sterling qualities of ourbeloved Executive," I continued. "Over in the States we think that'Teddy' is the goods--that is, the people of all sections haveunbounded faith in him. We think he is on the level--that is, that hisdominant policies are guided by the spirit of integrity. As afair-minded Briton, who is keeping in touch with the affairs of theworld, may I ask you your candid opinion of President Roosevelt?"
After a brief pause he spoke as follows:--"Ripping!"
"The impulse of friendliness on the part of the English people seems tobe more evident year by year," I continued. "It is now possible forAmericans to get into nearly all the London hotels. You show yourfaith in our monetary system by accepting all the collateral we canbring over. No identification is necessary. Formerly the visitingAmerican was asked to give references before he was separated from hisincome--that is, before one of your business institutions would enterinto negotiations with him. Nowadays you see behind the chin whiskerthe beautiful trade mark of consanguinity. You say, 'Blood is thickerthan water,' and you accept a five-dollar bill just the same as if itwere an English sovereign worth four dollars and eighty-six cents."
"Jolly glad to get it," said he.
"Both countries have adopted the gospel of reciprocity," I said, warmedby this sudden burst of enthusiasm. "We send shiploads of touristsover here. You send shiploads of English actors to New York. Thetourists go home as soon as they are broke--that is, as soon as theirfunds are exhausted. The English actors come home as soon as they areindependently rich. Everybody is satisfied with the arrangement andthe international bonds are further strengthened. Of course, some ofthe English actors blow up--that is, fail to meet with any greatmeasure of financial success--when they get out as far as Omaha, butwhile they are mystifying the American public some of our tourists aregoing around London mystifying the British public. Doubtless you haveseen some of these tourists?"
The distinguished person nodded his head in grave acquiescence and thensaid with some feeling:--"Bounders!"
"In spite of these breaches of international faith the situation takenas a whole is one promising an indefinite continuation of cordialfriendship between the Powers," I said. "I am darned glad that such isthe case; ain't you?"
"Rather," he replied.
Then we parted.
It was really worth a long sea voyage to be permitted to get theEnglish language at first hand; to revel in its unexpected sublimities,and gaze down new and awe-inspiring vistas of rhetorical splendour.