Читать книгу Jonathan and His Continent: Rambles Through American Society - O'Rell Max - Страница 8

All that Glitters is not Gold, especially in America.—The Dollar is the Unity of the Metrical System.—Jonathan is Matter-of-fact.—How he judges Man.—The Kind of Baits that Take.—Talent without Money is a Useless Tool.—Boston and Kansas.

onathan admires all that glitters, even that which is not gold.

In his eyes, the success of a thing answers for its quality, and the charlatanism that succeeds is superior to the merit that vegetates.

The dollar is not only the unity of the monetary system; it is also the unity of the metrical system.

Before assigning a man his standing, people ask him in England, "Who is your father?" in France, "Who are you?" in America, "How much have you?"

Like Professor Teufelsdröckh, the ordinary American judges men with an impartiality and coolness really charming. He admires talent, because it is a paying commodity. A literary or artistic success is only a success, in his eyes, on condition that it is a monetary one as well. He looks upon every man as possessing a certain commercial value. He is worth so much. Such and such a celebrity does not inspire his respect and admiration because he or she has produced a work of genius, but because the work of genius has produced a fortune. In America, you hear people, when talking of Madame Adelina Patti, speak less of her incomparable voice than of the houses she draws.

I was chatting one day with an American about the famous Robert Ingersoll.

"He is your greatest orator, I am told," I said.

"Oh, yes," he replied. "Ingersoll can fill the Metropolitan Opera House any day, and have five thousand dollars in the house."

Certainly that is a curious way to speak of a great orator, a great writer, and a great thinker.

I need not say that I am now speaking of the ordinary American, not the man of refinement.

It would be quite possible for an actress to attract large audiences all through a tour from New York to San Francisco, not because of incontestable talent, but because she travelled in a magnificent palace-car of her own.

I saw, in an American paper, the appearance of Miss Minnie Palmer spoken of in the following terms:

"Minnie Palmer will wear all her diamonds in the third act."

The booking-office was besieged all day, and in the evening money was refused. An amusing detail was the arrival of a good fourth of the audience at ten o'clock, to see the diamonds in the third act.

This necessity for being rich is the reverse side of the medal in America, where, more than anywhere else, talent without money is a useless tool.

America suffers from this state of things. The country's genius, instead of consecrating all its time to the production of works which would tend to elevate the ideas and aspirations of the people, is obliged to think of money-making.

"Ah! my friend," said one of America's most graceful bards to me one day as he touched his forehead, "it seems to me that I have something there, that I possess the feu sacré, and that I might do a little share of good by my writings. But how write poems, when there are rumours of panic in Wall Street?——Excuse me, I have not a moment to lose; I must rush to the Stock Exchange."

The American authors, most of them, only take up the pen at odd hours. Business first. Mark Twain is a publisher; Oliver Wendell Holmes is a doctor; Edmund Clarence Stedman is a stockbroker; Robert Ingersoll, an advocate; George Cable, a public lecturer; and James Russell Lowell is a diplomatist. The rest are journalists. There are few, indeed, who live by book-writing.

However, perhaps a day will come when American law will prevent publishers from stealing the works of European writers, and publishing them at low prices; then American authors, having no longer to fear this unjust competition, may be able to sell their books in sufficient numbers to allow them to pay their landlord and tradesmen out of the profits. When that day comes, American literature will spread its pinions and rise to prodigious heights.

In a country governed by Protectionists, it does seem strange that national products should all be protected except the products of the brain. Such an anomaly cannot certainly endure. The moral sense of the people will triumph. Boston, not Kansas, must win.

Unluckily, the Copyright Bill has the misfortune to be desired by the English; and this is quite enough for the Washington politicians to refuse to pass it, although the Americans desire it no less than the English, if not more.