My Impressions of America Part 10

I was proud and pleased to sit to Baron Meyer one morning, the greatest photographer that ever lived--poor praise for an artist who can express himself in whatever he touches. If I die on the _Mauretania_ going home,--which is more than likely as the sea seldom forgives bad sailors--I am certain of leaving something to my family that they can look at without repugnance.

On the 3rd of April we read in the papers "Balfour accepts Peerage: will enter Lords as Earl."

We were entertained at lunch by Mr. Arthur Brisbane, a famous journalist and friend of Elizabeth's. I sat between him and Mr. Hapgood and had an excellent conversation. They both spoke in high praise of "I Have Only Myself to Blame." In connection with this I will quote an American review out of the _New Republic_.

"MODERN LOVE

"'I Have Only Myself to Blame,' by Elizabeth Bibesco.

"This book is a collection of pictorial sketches and stories. Its field is restricted. It isn't about life in general. It leaves out religion and science, and illness and wars, animals and politics, and business, and children, and crime. It's only about lovers and loving.

"It is an unsettling book. Just as you have privately made up your mind, perhaps, to be sensible, and be satisfied with what you have--or haven't--and to forget about a oneness with somebody, and are feeling rich enough with much less, this book tells you a story which reaches into some inner part of you that was getting dried up, and makes you feel painfully aware of the things you are missing.

"Here for instance is part of a letter that one woman writes:

"'In a way I don't see why you should ever want to kiss me again. Do you understand what I mean, that I feel so merged, so eternally in your arms that I can hardly believe in the process of being taken into them again and again? Oh my dear, do you notice how one never can use superlatives when they really would mean something? They seem to slink away ashamed of their loose lives. After all we can't "make love" to one another. We both do it too well. This is not an incident, a game, an art; ours is not a love affair, it is life.'

"Another extract: 'I can't sleep. There is something oppressive in the atmosphere.... There is always a tenseness when you are not there, a c.u.mulative unreality. I have felt it all day.... I seemed to be a ghost wandering about in some meaningless void. It was not only that I couldn't believe in the people, I could not even believe in the chairs and tables; it was tiring. You know how in fairy tales the lovely Princess is turned into a toad and has to wait for a kiss to release her, that was what I felt like--that nothing but your touch could make me into a human being again.'

"Her trueness is so exquisite, it really doesn't need any plots. For example, she is describing a man who has fallen in love, and who, though he used to be talkative, can now only stammer. He wants to propose to a beautiful girl but he can't. 'One day they were walking through a bluebell wood.... "I must speak," he said to himself unhappily, while he realised he was physically incapable of bringing out the most common-place phrase....'

"He decided to speak when he saw the next orchis.

"He thought of a woman he had once imagined himself in love with. She had had red hair and green eyes ... and red hair had seemed infinitely wicked and alluring and adventurous....

"He saw an orchis and hastily averted his eyes.

"He thought of a rocking horse he had had as a child, dappled grey with a grey yellow tail and a scarlet saddle....

"Another orchis. He looked at her imploringly.

"'What are you thinking about?' she responded to his appeal.

"'Rocking horses,' he said. 'Will you marry me?' And then desperately, 'I know that's not the way to put it'; and then convulsively, 'I love you.'

"She waited till he had finished and then she said.... 'That's a very nice way to put it.'"

"This seems to one reader at least one of the best proposals in fiction.

"Perhaps these stories are not cla.s.sics. But they are of the very best of to-day's. They are not only charming, and fresh, but they have a n.o.bility; they are seriously concerned with our lonely emotional needs.

"And there are things in them that touch the very core of one's heart.

Things a reader is startled to find in print--things he had supposed not expressible. Secret things that make him whisper, 'Why I thought no one knew that but myself.'

Clarence Day, Jr."

In answer to a letter of thanks from Elizabeth he wrote:

"It made me so sad to read some of the reviews of your book. I knew of course how few people appreciated fine writing, but now I know how few people have ever been in love."

Mr. Heath Moore put this review into my hands before we parted and I thought it was clever of him to know the pleasure it would give me.

XVI: CRITICISM AND FAREWELL

CRITICISM AND FAREWELL

DOLL SALESMAN TALKS ON PROHIBITION--PERILS OF COMMERCIALISM AND MATERIALISM IN AMERICA--PLEA FOR LOVE AND FRIENDs.h.i.+P

On April 3--the day before I sailed for England--I went out early to buy toys to entertain my grand-baby on our voyage in the _Mauretania_; and had an interesting talk with one of the many civil salesmen that I have met all over the United States in their beautiful shops. He said he regretted that he would not be able to attend my last lecture although he had been to the other three in New York, because he feared the daughter of a friend of his was dying. She was a little girl living in a suburb who had fainted some weeks before. Her mother had given her the only stimulant they had in the house; since when she had suffered from blood-poisoning and was lying in a critical condition.

"I do hope, madam, you will deal to-night with the abominable law of Prohibition. It has encouraged this country to manufacture liquors of the most dangerous kind," he said.

I told him I heard the same complaint wherever I had been and, while sympathising deeply with him, feared I could do no more, as I had dealt freely and at length with the subject.

I was advertised by the following card to make my last speech.

FAREWELL LECTURE under the auspices of THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS OF ROUMANIA

Founded under the August Patronage of Her Majesty Queen Marie of Roumania

MARGOT ASQUITH

will close her brilliant and successful tour by delivering a lecture ent.i.tled

IMPRESSIONS OF THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA

I put on my best dress and, armed with a bouquet of rare orchids given to me by my chairman, made my final public appearance in this country.

As Mr. Nelson Cromwell, who introduced me, is a fluent orator and had a great deal to say while paying a fine tribute to my husband--and knowing that I was to hold a reception afterwards--I cut my lecture as short as I could.

Among other subjects, I dealt with the exaggerated belief over here in commercial success; and the dangerous self-interest and lack of leisure which was encouraging not only this but every nation to materialism.

I had read in the morning papers a typical example of what I meant.

"First have what people want.

"Then let them know it.

"_Thorough advertising_ is the Secret of Success.

"The old way was to let the people find it out gradually and slowly, in time for your grandson to get rich. The modern way is to have it TO-DAY, and make everybody know it TO-MORROW, or, if possible, THIS AFTERNOON."