No one slept very heavily that night. Both arms were needed to grip the berth, while the trunks below wound the carpet-slips into knots and battered the framing of the cabins. Once it seemed to me that the whole of the labouring fabric that cased our trumpery fortunes stood on end and in this undignified posture hopped a mighty hop. Twice I know I shot out of my berth to join the adventurous trunks on the floor. A hundred times the crash of the wave on the ship"s side was followed by the roar of the water, as it swept the decks and raved round the deckhouses. In a lull I heard the flying feet of a man, a shout, and a far-away chorus of lost spirits singing somebody"s requiem.
_May 24_ (Queen"s Birthday).--If ever you meet an American, be good to him. This day the ship was dressed with flags from stem to stern, and chiefest of the bunting was the Union-Jack. They had given no word of warning to the English, who were proportionately pleased. At dinner up rose an ex-Commissioner of the Lucknow Division (on my honour, Anglo-India extends to the ends of the earth!) and gave us the health of Her Majesty and the President. It was afterwards that the trouble began.
A small American penned half a dozen English into a corner and lectured them soundly on--their want of patriotism!
"What sort of Queen"s Birthday do you call this?" he thundered. "What did you drink our President"s health for? What"s the President to you on this day of all others? Well, suppose you _are_ in the minority, all the more reason for standing by your country. Don"t talk to me. You Britishers made a mess of it--a mighty bungle of the whole thing. I"m an American of the Americans; but if no one can propose Her Majesty"s health better than by just throwing it at your heads, I"m going to try."
Then and there he delivered a remarkably neat little oration--pat, well put together, and clearly delivered. So it came to pa.s.s that the Queen"s health was best honoured by an American. We English were dazed. I wondered how many Englishmen not trained to addressing their fellows would have spoken half so fluently as the gentleman from "Frisco.
"Well, you see," said one of us feebly, "she"s our Queen, anyhow, and--and--she"s been ours for fifty years, and not one of us here has seen England for seven years, and we can"t enthuse over the matter.
We"ve lived to be hauled over the coals for want of patriotism by an American! We"ll be more careful next time."
And the conversation drifted naturally into the question of the government of men--English, j.a.panese (we have several travelled j.a.panese aboard), and Americans throwing the ball from one to another. We bore in mind the golden rule: "Never agree with a man who abuses his own country," and got on well enough.
"j.a.pan," said a little gentleman who was a rich man there, "j.a.pan is divided into two administrative sides. On the one the remains of a very strict and quite Oriental despotism; on the other a ma.s.s of--what do you call it?--red-tapeism which is not understood even by the officials who handle it. We copy the red tape, and when it is copied we believe that we administer. That is a vice of all Oriental nations. We are Orientals."
"Oh no, say the most westerly of the westerns," purred an American, soothingly.
The little man was pleased. "Thanks. That is what we hope to believe, but up to the present it is not so. Look now. A farmer in my country holds a hillside cut into little terraces. Every year he must submit to his Government a statement of the size and revenue paid, not on the whole hillside, but on each terrace. The complete statement makes a pile three inches high, and is of no use when it is made except to keep in work thousands of officials to check the returns. Is that administration? By G.o.d! we call it so, but we multiply officials by the twenty, and _they_ are not administration. What country is such a fool?
Look at our Government offices eaten up with clerks! Some day, I tell you, there will be a smash."
This was new to me, but I might have guessed it. In every country where swords and uniforms accompany civil office there is a natural tendency towards an ill-considered increase of officialdom.
"You might pay India a visit some day," I said. "I fancy that you would find that our country shares your trouble."
Thereupon a j.a.panese gentleman in the Educational Department began to cross-question me on the matters of his craft in India, and in a quarter of an hour got from me the very little that I knew about primary schools, higher education, and the value of an M. A. degree. He knew exactly what he wanted to ask, and only dropped me when the tooth of Desire had clean picked the bone of Ignorance.
Then an American held forth, harping on a string that has already been too often tw.a.n.ged in my ear. "What will it be in America itself?"
"The whole system is rotten from top to bottom," he said. "As rotten as rotten can be."
"That"s so," said the Louisiana man, with an affirmative puff of smoke.
"They call us a Republic. We may be. I don"t think it. You Britishers have got the only republic worth the name. You choose to run your ship of state with a gilt figurehead; but I know, and so does every man who has thought about it, that your Queen doesn"t cost you one-half what our system of pure democracy costs us. Politics in America? There aren"t any. The whole question of the day is spoils. That"s all. We fight our souls out over tram-contracts, gas-contracts, road-contracts, and any darned thing that will turn a dishonest dollar, and we call that politics. No one but a low-down man will run for Congress and the Senate--the Senate of the freest people on earth are bound slaves to some blessed monopoly. If I had money enough, I could buy the Senate of the United States, the Eagle, and the Star-Spangled Banner complete."
"And the Irish vote included?" said some one--a Britisher, I fancy.
"Certainly, if I chose to go yahooing down the street at the tail of the British lion. Anything dirty will buy the Irish vote. That"s why our politics are dirty. Some day you Britishers will grant Home Rule to the vermin in our blankets. Then the real Americans will invite the Irish to get up and git to where they came from. "Wish you"d hurry up that time before we have another trouble. We"re bound hand and foot by the Irish vote; or at least that"s the excuse for any unusual theft that we perpetrate. I tell you there"s no good in an Irishman except as a fighter. He doesn"t understand work. He has a natural gift of the gab, and he can drink a man blind. These three qualifications make him a first-cla.s.s politician."
With one accord the Americans present commenced to abuse Ireland and its people as they had met them, and each man prefaced his commination service with: "I am an American by birth--an American from way back."
It must be an awful thing to live in a country where you have to explain that you really belong there. Louder grew the clamour and crisper the sentiments.
"If we weren"t among Americans, I should say we were consorting with Russians," said a fellow-countryman in my ear.
"They can"t mean what they say," I whispered. "Listen to this fellow."
He was saying:
"And I know, for I have been three times round the world and resided in most countries on the Continent, that there was never people yet could govern themselves."
"Allah! This from an American!"
"And who should know better than an American?" was the retort. "For the ignorant--that is to say for the majority--there is only one argument--fear; the fear of Death. In our case we give any scallawag who comes across the water all the same privileges that we have made for ourselves. There we make a mistake. They thank us by playing the fool.
Then we shoot them down. You can"t persuade the mob of any country to become decent citizens. If they misbehave themselves, shoot them. I saw the bombs thrown at Chicago when our police were blown to bits. I saw the banners in the procession that threw the bombs. All the mottoes on them were in German. The men were aliens in our midst, and they were shot down like dogs. I"ve been in labour riots and seen the militia go through a crowd like a finger through tissue paper."
"I was in the riots at New Orleans," said the man from Louisiana. "We turned the Gatling on the other crowd, and they were sick."
"Whew! I wonder what would have happened if a Gatling had been used when the West End riots were in full swing?" said an Englishman. "If a single rioter were killed in an English town by the police, the chances are that the policeman would have to stand his trial for murder and the Ministry of the day would go out."
"Then you"ve got all your troubles before you. The more power you give the people, the more trouble they will give. With us our better cla.s.ses are corrupt and our lower cla.s.ses are lawless. There are millions of useful, law-abiding citizens, and they are very sick of this thing. We execute our justice in the streets. The law courts are no use. Take the case of the Chicago Anarchists. It was all we could do to get "em hanged: whereas the dead in the streets had been punished off-hand. We were sure of _them_. Guess that"s the reason we are so quick to fire on a mob. But it"s unfair, all the same. We receive all these cattle--Anarchists, Socialists, and ruffians of every sort--and then we shoot them. The States are as republican as they make "em. We have no use for a man who wants to try any more experiments on the Const.i.tution.
We are the biggest people on G.o.d"s earth. All the world knows that.
We"ve been shouting that we are also the greatest people. No one cares to contradict us but ourselves; and we are now wondering whether we are what we claim to be. Never mind; you Britishers will have the same experiences to go through. You"re beginning to rot now. Your County Councils will make you more rotten because you are putting power into the hands of untrained people. When you reach our level,--every man with a vote and the right to sell it; the right to nominate fellows of his own kidney to swamp out better men,--you"ll be what we are now--rotten, rotten, rotten!"
The voice ceased, and no man rose up to contradict.
"We"ll worry through it somehow," said the man from Louisiana. "What would do us a world of good now would be a big European war. We"re getting slack and sprawly. Now a war outside our borders would make us all pull together. But that"s a luxury we shan"t get."
"Can"t you raise one within your own borders?" I said flippantly, to get rid of the thought of the great blind nation in her unrest putting out her hand to the Sword. Mine was a most unfortunate remark.
"I hope not," said an American, very seriously. "We have paid a good deal to keep ourselves together before this, and it is not likely that we shall split up without protest. Yet some say we are too large, and some say that Washington and the Eastern States are running the whole country. If ever we do divide,--G.o.d help us when we do,--it will be East and West this time."
"We built the old hooker too long in the run. We put the engine room aft. Break her back," said an American who had not yet spoken. ""Wonder if our forbears knew how she was going to grow."
"A very large country." The speaker sighed as though the weight of it from New York to "Frisco lay upon his shoulders. "If ever we do divide, it means that we are done for. There is no room for four first-cla.s.s empires in the States. One split will lead to another if the first is successful. What"s the use of talking?"
What was the use? Here"s our conversation as it ran, the night of the Queen"s Birthday. What do _you_ think?
No. XXIII
HOW I GOT TO SAN FRANCISCO AND TOOK TEA WITH THE NATIVES THERE.
"Serene, indifferent to fate, Thou sittest at the western gate, Thou seest the white seas fold their tents, Oh warder of two Continents.
Thou drawest all things small and great To thee beside the Western Gate."
This is what Bret Harte has written of the great city of San Francisco, and for the past fortnight I have been wondering what made him do it.
There is neither serenity nor indifference to be found in these parts; and evil would it be for the Continent whose wardship were intrusted to so reckless a guardian. Behold me pitched neck-and-crop from twenty days of the High Seas, into the whirl of California, deprived of any guidance, and left to draw my own conclusions. Protect me from the wrath of an outraged community if these letters be ever read by American eyes.
San Francisco is a mad city--inhabited for the most part by perfectly insane people whose women are of a remarkable beauty. When the _City of Peking_ steamed through the Golden Gate I saw with great joy that the block-house which guarded the mouth of the "finest harbour in the world, Sir," could be silenced by two gunboats from Hong-Kong with safety, comfort, and despatch.
Then a reporter leaped aboard, and ere I could gasp held me in his toils. He pumped me exhaustively while I was getting ash.o.r.e, demanding, of all things in the world, news about Indian journalism. It is an awful thing to enter a new land with a new lie on your lips. I spoke the truth to the evil-minded Custom-house man who turned my most sacred raiment on a floor composed of stable-refuse and pine-splinters; but the reporter overwhelmed me not so much by his poignant audacity as his beautiful ignorance. I am sorry now that I did not tell him more lies as I pa.s.sed into a city of three hundred thousand white men. Think of it! Three hundred thousand white men and women gathered in one spot, walking upon real pavements in front of real plate-gla.s.s windowed shops, and talking something that was not very different from English. It was only when I had tangled myself up in a hopeless maze of small wooden houses, dust, street-refuse, and children who play with empty kerosene tins, that I discovered the difference of speech.
"You want to go to the Palace Hotel?" said an affable youth on a dray.
"What in h.e.l.l are you doing here, then? This is about the lowest place in the city. Go six blocks north to corner of Geary and Market; then walk around till you strike corner of Gutter and Sixteenth, and that brings you there."
I do not vouch for the literal accuracy of these directions, quoting but from a disordered memory.