My Discovery of England | Page 6

in his
own country, they don't care how he came to write it. He's written it
and that's enough. But in America it is different. One month after the
distinguished author's book on The Boyhood of Botticelli has appeared
in London, he is seen to land in New York very quietly out of one of
the back portholes of the Olympic. That same afternoon you will find
him in an armchair in one of the big hotels giving off impressions of
America to a group of reporters. After which notices appear in all the
papers to the effect that he will lecture in Carnegie Hall on "Botticelli
the Boy". The audience is assured beforehand. It consists of all the

people who feel that they have to go because they know all about
Botticelli and all the people who feel that they have to go because they
don't know anything about Botticelli. By this means the lecturer is able
to rake the whole country from Montreal to San Francisco with
"Botticelli the Boy". Then he turns round, labels his lecture "Botticelli
the Man", and rakes it all back again. All the way across the continent
and back he emits impressions, estimates of national character, and
surveys of American genius. He sails from New York in a blaze of
publicity, with his cordon of reporters round him, and a month later
publishes his book "America as I Saw It". It is widely read--in
America.
In the course of time a very considerable public feeling was aroused in
the United States and Canada over this state of affairs. The lack of
reciprocity in it seemed unfair. It was felt (or at least I felt) that the time
had come when some one ought to go over and take some impressions
off England. The choice of such a person (my choice) fell upon myself.
By an arrangement with the Geographical Society of America, acting in
conjunction with the Royal Geographical Society of England (to both
of whom I communicated my proposal), I went at my own expense.
It is scarcely feasible to give here full details in regard to my outfit and
equipment, though I hope to do so in a later and more extended account
of my expedition. Suffice it to say that my outfit, which was modelled
on the equipment of English lecturers in America, included a complete
suit of clothes, a dress shirt for lecturing in, a fountain pen and a silk
hat. The dress shirt, I may say for the benefit of other travellers, proved
invaluable. The silk hat, however, is no longer used in England except
perhaps for scrambling eggs in.
I pass over the details of my pleasant voyage from New York to
Liverpool. During the last fifty years so many travellers have made the
voyage across the Atlantic that it is now impossible to obtain any
impressions from the ocean of the slightest commercial value. My
readers will recall the fact that Washington Irving, as far back as a
century ago, chronicled the pleasure that one felt during an Atlantic
voyage in idle day dreams while lying prone upon the bowsprit and
watching the dolphins leaping in the crystalline foam. Since his time so
many gifted writers have attempted to do the same thing that on the
large Atlantic liners the bowsprit has been removed, or at any rate a

notice put up: "Authors are requested not to lie prostrate on the
bowsprit." But even without this advantage, three or four generations of
writers have chronicled with great minuteness their sensations during
the transit. I need only say that my sensations were just as good as
theirs. I will content myself with chronicling the fact that during the
voyage we passed two dolphins, one whale and one iceberg (none of
them moving very fast at the time), and that on the fourth day out the
sea was so rough that the Captain said that in forty years he had never
seen such weather. One of the steerage passengers, we were told, was
actually washed overboard: I think it was over board that he was
washed, but it may have been on board the ship itself.
I pass over also the incidents of my landing in Liverpool, except
perhaps to comment upon the extraordinary behaviour of the English
customs officials. Without wishing in any way to disturb international
relations, one cannot help noticing the rough and inquisitorial methods
of the English customs men as compared with the gentle and
affectionate ways of the American officials at New York. The two
trunks that I brought with me were dragged brutally into an open shed,
the strap of one of them was rudely unbuckled, while the lid of the
other was actually lifted at least four inches. The trunks were then
roughly