The Complete Works of Artemus Ward, part 1 | Page 9

on "The Babes in the
Woods," November 13th, 1863, at Pratt's Hall. T. Starr King took a
deep interest in him, occupying the rostrum, and his general reception
in San Francisco was warm.
Returning overland, through Salt Lake to the States, in the fall of 1864,
Mr. Browne lectured again in New York, this time on the "Mormons,"
to immense audiences, and in the spring of 1865 he commenced his
tour through the country, everywhere drawing enthusiastic audiences
both North and South.

It was while on this tour that the writer of this sketch again spent some
time with him. We met at Memphis and traveled down the Mississippi
together. At Lake Providence the "Indiana" rounded up to our landing,
and Mr. Browne accompanied the writer to his plantation, where he
spent several days, mingling in seeming infinite delight with the
negroes. For them he showed great fondness, and they used to stand
around him in crowds listening to his seemingly serious advice. We
could not prevail upon him to hunt or to join in any of the equestrian
amusements with the neighboring planters, but a quiet fascination drew
him to the negroes. Strolling through the "quarters," his grave words,
too deep with humor for darkey comprehension, gained their entire
confidence. One day he called up Uncle Jeff., an Uncle-Tom-like
patriarch, and commenced in his usual vein: "Now, Uncle Jefferson,"
he said, "why do you thus pursue the habits of industry? This course of
life is wrong--all wrong--all a base habit, Uncle Jefferson. Now try to
break it off. Look at me,-- look at Mr. Landon, the chivalric young
Southern plantist FROM NEW YORK, he toils not, neither does he
spin; he pursues a career of contented idleness. If you only thought so,
Jefferson, you could live for months WITHOUT PERFORMING ANY
KIND OF LABOR, and at the expiration of that time FEEL FRESH
AND VIGOROUS ENOUGH TO COMMENCE IT AGAIN. Idleness
refreshes the physical organization --IT IS A SWEET BOON! Strike at
the roots of the destroying habit to-day, Jefferson. It tires you out;
resolve to be idle; no one should labor; HE SHOULD HIRE OTHERS
TO DO IT FOR HIM;" and then he would fix his mournful eyes on Jeff.
and hand him a dollar, while the eyes of the wonder-struck darkey
would gaze in mute admiration upon the good and wise originator of
the only theory which the darkey mind could appreciate. As Jeff. went
away to tell the wonderful story to his companions, and backed it with
the dollar as material proof, Artemus would cover his eyes, and bend
forward on his elbows in a chuckling laugh.
"Among the Mormons" was delivered through the States, everywhere
drawing immense crowds. His manner of delivering his discourse was
grotesque and comical beyond description. His quaint and sad style
contributed more than anything else to render his entertainment
exquisitely funny. The programme was exceedingly droll, and the
tickets of admission presented the most ludicrous of ideas. The writer

presents a fac-simile of an admission ticket which was presented to him
in Natchez by Mr. Browne:--
ADMIT THE BEARER AND ONE WIFE. YOURS TROOLY, A.
WARD.
In the spring of 1866, Charles Browne first timidly thought of going to
Europe. Turning to Mr. Hingston one day he asked: "What sort of a
man is Albert Smith? Do you think the Mormons would be as good a
subject to the Londoners as Mont Blanc was?" Then he said: "I should
like to go to London and give my lecture in the same place. Can't it be
done?"
Mr. Browne sailed for England soon after, taking with him his
Panorama. The success that awaited him could scarcely have been
anticipated by his most intimate friends. Scholars, wits, poets, and
novelists came to him with extended hands, and his stay in London was
one ovation to the genius of American wit. Charles Reade, the novelist,
was his warm friend and enthusiastic admirer; and Mr. Andrew Haliday
introduced him to the "Literary Club," where he became a great
favorite. Mark Lemon came to him and asked him to become a
contributor to "Punch," which he did. His "Punch" letters were more
remarked in literary circles than any other current matter. There was
hardly a club-meeting or a dinner at which they were not discussed.
"There was something so grotesque in the idea," said a correspondent,
"of this ruthless Yankee poking among the revered antiquities of
Britain, that the beef-eating British themselves could not restrain their
laughter." The story of his Uncle William who "followed commercial
pursuits, glorious commerce--and sold soap," and his letters on the
Tower and "Chowser," were palpable hits, and it was admitted that
"Punch" had contained nothing better since the days of "Yellowplush."
This opinion was shared by the "Times," the literary reviews,