THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 OFFENBACH 
 
 AMERICA 
 
 NOTES OF A TRAVELLING MUSICIAN. 
 
 BY JACQUES OFFENBACH. 
 
 WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE 
 BY ALBERT WOLFF. 
 
 Translated from advance sheets of the original Paris Edition. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers. 
 
 PARIS: C. LEVY. 
 MDCCCLXXVII.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1877, BY 
 G. W. CARLETON & CO. 
 
 JOHN F. TROW & SON, 
 
 PRINTERS AND BOOKBINDERS, 
 
 205-213 Kast \ztk Street, 
 
 NEW YORK.
 
 1377 
 
 TO MY WIFE. 
 
 DEAR FRIEND. 
 
 It was you who wished me to make up a book 
 from the scattered notes and random utterances 
 of my heart. It is the first sorrow you have 
 caused me. I bear you so little grudge, however, 
 that I beg you will allow me to dedicate this 
 volume to you, not for what it contains or for what 
 it is worth, but because I love to manifest in every 
 way my esteem and my affection for you. 
 
 JACQUES OFFENBACH. 
 
 548613 
 
 CISRAR/
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL PREFACE, BY ALBERT WOLFF 7 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Before Leaving 35 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Passage Out 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 New York Gilmore's Garden 54 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Houses The Streets The Cars 61 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Theatres in New York 68 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Art in America 79 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Restaurants Three Types of Waiters 85 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 American Women Introductions Central Park 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Story of Two Statues 100 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Liberty in America 109 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Societies and Processions 121
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Advertising and Puffing 123 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Turf Jerome Park 128 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The American Newspaper Press 132 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A Few Character Sketches 141 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Philadelphia 153 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Offenbach Garden 157 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 On the Way to Niagara Pullman Cars 161 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Niagara Falls 166 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 The Dauphin Eleazar 169 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Return from Niagara Sleeping Cars 172 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 The Miseries of a Musician 180 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 The Firemen of New York 187 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Banquets, Baton, and Brevet 198 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Farewell Night 205 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 Homeward-Bound . . 207
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 By ALBERT WOLFF. 
 
 To Madame HERMESTIE OFFENBACH : 
 
 MADAME Your husband's publisher has re- 
 quested ine to write a preface to this book, 
 which he has dedicated to you. It was not 
 necessary that your name should appear on the 
 first page, for us to be convinced that you were 
 worthy of every proof of affection and gratitude. 
 Whatever your husband writes, whether music 
 or words, belongs to you by right. There is not 
 a single one among your innumerable friends 
 but is aware that you are not only the best of 
 wives, and the most excellent of mothers, but 
 that also, and to a certain extent, you have parti- 
 cipated in the works signed by our illustrious 
 composer. 
 
 The numerous productions of your husband
 
 8 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 may be divided into two quite distinct parts : the 
 one is like the echo of Parisian gossip, Boulevard 
 bustle, and artistes' suppers, when French mirth 
 and good humor have been stimulated by spark- 
 ling champagne ; the other part has nothing in 
 common with the first, and is your legitimate 
 property, for it is you, Madame, who have 
 blessed this thoroughly Parisian artiste with a 
 happy and genial home, where his heart has 
 expanded at ease in the midst of a charming, 
 joyful, and spirited family, where he has most 
 unquestionably found the pathetic and more deli- 
 cate tones of his repertory, which, in my humble 
 opinion, form the purest part of his talent. This 
 is why I think of your husband when the blasts 
 of frolicking mirth burst forth in his music, and 
 I think of you, Madame, when suddenly, through 
 the jingling bells of folly, plaintive melodies 
 glide out harmoniously, and delight the ears 
 both of connoisseur and crowd. Quite lately, 
 Madame, I was staying a few hours in the an- 
 cient city of Cologne, and chanced to pass before 
 the house where your husband w T as born. Jacques 
 was already a well-grown youth, and something
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 of a virtuoso, when I was learning to read in the 
 school adjoining his father's house. None better 
 than I can tell you of his start in life, for the 
 Offenbach family form one of the earliest memo- 
 ries of my childhood; I knew the parents of 
 Jacques, his brothers and his sisters, who cer- 
 tainly did not at that time suspect that the fair- 
 haired boy, who was so fond of his violoncello, 
 would become the most popular musician of his 
 time, and that the little lad, who bid them good- 
 morning every day as he went past, would one 
 day write this preface. 
 
 The house in which Jacques was born was 
 small. I see it still, on the right of the court- 
 yard, at the farthest end of which my school was 
 situated. The front door was low and narrow ; 
 the kitchen, clean and bright, was located under 
 the hall ; copper saucepans hanging on the walls 
 in beautiful order ; the mother busy at her range ; 
 on the right, after crossing the kitchen, a sitting- 
 room looking out on the street. The father re- 
 clining in his big arm-chair near the window, 
 when not engaged giving music lessons ; he had a 
 
 good voice, and played on the violin. Mr. Off en- 
 1*
 
 10 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 bach was already an elderly man ; I have pre- 
 served a two-fold remembrance of the good man : 
 when, on leaving school, I made too much noise 
 in the yard, he would come out and administer 
 to me a gentle correction, and on holidays he 
 would cram me with cakes, in the making of 
 which Mother Offenbach had no rival in the town. 
 There is no house where I have been oftener 
 whipped and more spoilt, than in that of your 
 late father-in-law. 
 
 Everybody in that house was more or less of a 
 musician, from the father down to the youngest 
 son, whom death carried off so early, and who was 
 said to be gifted with much talent. The house in 
 the Rue de la Cloche had a modest appearance ; 
 the family was a large one, and the father's 
 income did not allow of excessive expenses. 
 I was often told in my young days that Father 
 Offenbach had to make the greatest sacrifices to 
 enable his son Jacques to take music lessons. 
 
 I well remember your husband's professor, 
 whom, in my childhood, I used to see sometimes 
 in the streets, wearing a threadbare coat with brass 
 buttons, the tails of which reached down to his
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 calves, a cane with an ivory handle, a brown wig, 
 and one of those broad-brimmed hats then in 
 fashion. Despite his comparatively comfortable 
 income, M. Alexander, the professor, was gener- 
 ally considered the greatest miser in the town. 
 It was said that he had once exhibited great tal- 
 ent ; and he was known in his own neighborhood 
 by the glorious name of " the Artiste." It was of 
 him that Jacques took lessons, at the rate of 
 twenty-five cents each. The end of the month 
 was generally a hard time for the Offenbach 
 family ; but they deprived themselves of many 
 little comforts in order to economize the price of 
 the lessons, for Herr Alexander did not trifle 
 with such matters ; the twenty-five cents had to 
 be spread on the table before the beginning of 
 the lesson. No money, no music ! 
 
 This earliest and most accurate impression 
 which 1 have preserved of Jacques' youth, coin- 
 cides with the first visit he paid his parents on 
 returning from Paris. It was an event for all 
 the friends of the family, where, for a long time 
 past, nothing had been talked of except Jacques, 
 who, it was currently reported, was coining mil-
 
 12 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 lions in Paris by playing on the violoncello. 
 Nobody in Cologne suspected that the father 
 of Offenbach's son earned his scanty living with 
 great difficulty on the banks of the Seine. The 
 mere fact that he was listened to in Paris, the 
 city of artists and rich people, no one ever 
 doubted but what Jacques must be a millionnaire. 
 It was said in the town : " Father Offenbach is a 
 lucky man ; it appears that his son is coming 
 back with big diamonds instead of buttons in his 
 waistcoat, and that his fortune is reckoned by 
 hundreds of thousands of francs." 
 
 It was not this which drew me to the Offen- 
 bachs'. In our youth we have but a very vague 
 idea of wealth; a ten-cent piece or the vaults 
 of the Bank of France seem about alike ; but 
 if, in the evening, at the hour at which Jacques 
 was expected, I found myself among the friends 
 of the house, it was because on the morning of 
 the same day I had smelt the savory perfume 
 of those famous cakes ; I had been struck with 
 astonishment at this extraordinary occurrence, for 
 it was not the eve of a holiday. But, in reply to 
 my eager inquiries, Mother Offenbach had re-
 
 BIOGRAPHIC A.L INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 plied : " This is a fete-day for us all, my boy ; 
 my son Jacques comes back this evening from 
 Paris. Come in by and by, and have some cakes ; 
 I can tell you that I have spared neither eggs, 
 nor butter, nor sugar." 
 
 When about sun-down I crossed the threshold 
 of the house, in the Rue de la Cloche, Jacques, who 
 was sitting on the sofa by the side of his father, 
 whilst his mother was getting supper ready for the 
 beloved son Jacques, I repeat, was for me but 
 an object of the greatest curiosity. But my heart 
 beat faster as I caught sight of a bottle of Rhein- 
 wine standing on the white table-cloth between 
 two dishes filled with delicacies, the whole spark- 
 ling under the light of a small brass chandelier, 
 which was only lighted on great occasions. At 
 that moment there was not in the town a happier 
 house than this. Relatives and friends came in 
 one after another, to welcome Jacques; and 
 each time a fresh visitor came in, the dishes 
 were sent around, and each time I helped myself 
 to some fresh delicacy, so that, as a natural con- 
 sequence, a formidable fit of indigestion nailed 
 me for a week to my bed ; but I bear no grudge
 
 14 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to your husband for all that, believe me, Ma- 
 dame ! 
 
 I am quite sure that I did not then realize the 
 influence which this visit was destined to have 
 on my future life ; but I think that it was then I 
 unwittingly conceived the idea of going later 
 to Paris, like young Offenbach, and of coming 
 back, like him, to my family, made much of by 
 everybody, and, in the absence of my father, 
 whom I had hardly known, I beheld myself, in 
 the distant future, sitting by the side of my 
 mother, who looked as happy as Mother Offen- 
 bach. I could see the table groaning under 
 the weight of cakes, and the rapture of my 
 mother, as proud of her son as Mother Offen- 
 bach of hers. Alas ! this greatest of joys, dream 
 of my boyhood, I was never able to give 
 to my poor mother, who died young, and who 
 was also an excellent woman, like yourself, Ma- 
 dame. 
 
 If I dwell on this reminiscence of my youth, 
 puerile to the indifferent, but which so greatly 
 affects me when my thoughts travel back to 
 those happy days, it is that you may know,
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 Madame, how Jacques' career became in some 
 way closely connected with mine. 
 
 Later, when I came to Paris, and the Figaro 
 consented to harbor my early efforts, the first 
 person whom I met in the office of that journal 
 was Jacques, and it was then that I began to 
 reflect on that mysterious destiny which brings 
 about the realization of a boyish dream, twenty 
 years later, in the presence of the very man who 
 first directed his mind towards the great city. 
 
 At this time Jacques was already a great man ; 
 he was no longer merely the talented violoncellist 
 of former days ; he had long since abandoned 
 the little stage in the Champs Elysees, which was 
 the cradle of his fame. The Bouffes Theatre was 
 giving every night that Orphee aux Enfers, 
 which has gone around the civilized world, and 
 has contributed so much to establish his popular- 
 ity. I had introduced myself to the celebrated 
 composer, and he had deigned to put my name 
 on the free list at the Bouffes. But the house 
 was crowded every evening ; my ticket really ad- 
 mitted me no farther than the lobby, and it was 
 through the glass window of a box door that I
 
 16 BIOGEAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 saw the piece and heard the music. Now, 
 Madame, that I have the honor of being your 
 friend, and that I have the conviction of being 
 sufficiently near your heart to be able to speak to 
 you of my troubles, and my joys, you will allow 
 me doubtless to say that the snccess of OrpJiee is 
 in some degree the starting-point of this preface. 
 At that time 1 was poor, and blushed when the 
 usher rushed forward to take my overcoat. AVhat 
 could I do ? I was obliged to be economical in 
 order to breakfast the next day ; everybody has 
 not the means of giving ten cents to an usher. 
 Bnt when, sad and desperate, I walked the streets 
 of Paris, gazing curiously at the stars, wondering 
 what the future had in store for me, and gliding 
 along close to the walls of the houses in order 
 that those whom I met might not see my weak- 
 ness, I always ended by finding myself at the 
 Bouffes ; I heard the applause of the public ; I 
 thought of the young Offenbach, who started so 
 low in the social ladder, and who had raised him- 
 self so high ; and I went home with a comforted 
 mind and a better heart ; I measured the dis- 
 tance between Father Offenbach's little house and
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 that brilliant house where the public hailed so 
 lustily your husband's music ; and I thought with- 
 in myself that, with some talent, a great deal of 
 energy, and an enormous amount of work, I should 
 never find myself under the necessity of return- 
 ing to Cologne. 
 
 You see, Madame, that fate has taken pity on 
 my anguish, since I have the good fortune to 
 write you from Paris, where I have suffered so 
 much, but to which I owe the little that I am, 
 and which I love so much, that it seems impossi- 
 ble to me I could have been born elsewhere, just 
 as it appears to me unaccountable that the incar- 
 nation of Parisian wit in music that is, your 
 husband should be the same Jacques I once saw 
 sitting by the side of his father in the little 
 house in the Rue de la Cloche, at Cologne. 
 
 If I speak so much of myself, Madame, it is 
 not to attempt to move your feelings on the sub- 
 ject of my past life, but to draw your attention 
 to the strange coincidences of this life. As I 
 have had the honor of telling you : I strayed the 
 last time I travelled into the Rue de la Cloche, 
 where your husband was born, and all these
 
 18 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 memories of former days came back to my mind. 
 And I had hardly set foot again on the Paris 
 pavement, before I learned that Jacques was 
 about to publish a book on America. My good 
 friend, Calmann Levy, asked me to write him, not 
 a preface, but a few biographical notes on 
 Jacques Offenbach. This will explain to you 
 why I have been compelled to associate my 
 name, which is simply a known one, with that of 
 your husband, which is a famous one. 
 
 The old house in the Rue de la Cloche has 
 ceased to exist, Madame. On the site where it 
 formerly stood, a dazzling monument has been, 
 reared. Fair Jacques and the cottage of his 
 ancestors have shared the same fate ; they have 
 both grown with time. The violoncello with 
 which Jacques obtained his first successes was 
 laid aside at the same time that the paternal 
 cottage was pulled down. Jacques also is now 
 a moving monument of Parisian music ; and, if I 
 use this term, it is not with a view of diminishing 
 its value, but to indicate its leading character- 
 istics the wit and good humor of the great city 
 in its moments of explosive mirth.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 Here and there, with this eminently Parisian 
 talent, you find mingled something like a pious 
 reminiscence of the old home at Cologne. I do 
 not think that Jacques is capable of looking long 
 upon the humble portrait of his father, hung 
 above his piano, without being moved by the 
 memory of those happy days. In his hours of 
 meditation, his thoughts must dwell on the old 
 songs of his youth, and it is then that he drops 
 upon paper those sweet and serene melodies 
 which, to the utter astonishment of the public, 
 suddenly appear in his works, and produce the 
 unforeseen effect of a young girl, chaste and 
 innocent, who, in the radiant simplicity of her 
 beauty, clad in white, and with a single flower 
 in her bosom, appears in the midst of a masked 
 ball, where folly reigns supreme. 
 
 And it is precisely this sudden apparition of 
 what I would term the homely muse of your 
 husband which places his work far above the 
 noisier part, which, by way of antithesis, might be 
 called the muse of the boulevards. But this is 
 also the secret of the marked success obtained by 
 Jacques ; his inexhaustible repertory is a combi-
 
 20 BIOGRAPHICAL INTEODUCTION. 
 
 nation of every kind of sentiment ; the spirited 
 strains that take the house by storm ; the bluff 
 laugh that pleases some ; the Parisian wit that 
 bewitches others; and the pathetic touch that 
 makes all the world akin, because it springs from 
 the heart and goes straight to the soul. Therein 
 lies the secret of his brilliant successes and of 
 that popularity which must have been witnessed 
 at home in order to realize its extent. Nothing 
 has been wanting to his long-lived triumph in a 
 branch of art which people persist in calling 
 small ; but in the way of art, Madame, nothing 
 is small. The Song of Fortunio is not written 
 in five acts, and does not require the vast stage of 
 the Opera ; yet it is the complete gem of a com- 
 poser in love with his art. The Brigands com- 
 prise exquisite passages which the big boots of 
 the carabineers, imagined to please the crowd, are 
 not able to stifle under the weight of their heavy 
 tread. The Sabre de mon Pere may be called in 
 question, despite its loud success ; but the most 
 hardened purist in musical matters cannot deny 
 that the Dites lui, in the Duchesse de Gerolstein, 
 is a genuine pearl. Your husband's works,
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 Madame, swarm with such graceful and pathetic 
 melodies ; and it is surely on that account that he 
 remains the colonel of the regiment of composers 
 who have followed in the path marked out by 
 Jacques. 
 
 I do not mean to imply by the above, Madame, 
 that, outside of Jacques, opera bouffe does not 
 exist. You are too intelligent to think that your 
 husband has done all that can be imagined in 
 the line he has created ; he has given it a fair 
 start, and that is a great deal ; for a man can 
 only be reckoned an artiste on condition of 
 giving a personality to his art ; and the art of 
 Jacques is essentially the art of Jacques. Whether 
 it be a more or less great art is not the question. 
 In order to judge an artiste, it must be first as- 
 certained whether his art is really his own, or 
 whether he has learnt and borrowed it of others. 
 It is said of some that they have brought this 
 style to life again"; of others that they resemble 
 that man ; but the whole is covered by the general 
 expression : " Offenbach style," which is in 
 everybody's mouth, and which gives your husband 
 a share in the very success of his followers.
 
 22 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In Jacques' long career all has not been tri- 
 umph and good luck; he has had to struggle, 
 like everybody else. When a brain is full of 
 such joyous and charming melodies, and its 
 owner is obliged to act as leader to the orchestra 
 of the Theatre Frangais between the two acts of 
 a tragedy, he is entitled to a place in the ranks 
 of celebrated martyrs. Is it possible to conceive 
 a more cruel torture than that of a richly en- 
 dowed mind condemned to devote its energy to 
 so humble and ungracious a task? Artistes 
 are sometimes reproached with having an exces- 
 sive veneration for their own talent ; but what 
 would they do without that faith in themselves 
 which sustains them in the hour of trial ? Is it 
 possible to blame a man of talent, condemned to 
 lead a wretched orchestra, with blowing his own 
 trumpet, in order to keep alive the illusions which 
 save him. from the fatal consequences of a faint 
 and sad heart. 
 
 Henri Heine, who had known every kind of 
 suffering, wrote the following terrible truth : 
 
 " Adversity is a hideous old witch. She is not 
 satisfied with paying us one visit ; she sits by our
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 bed, settles herself there with her work-box, and 
 takes out her knitting like a person who intends 
 making herself at home for some time ! " 
 
 Well, Madame, in presence of this weird 
 visitor, the artiste can only keep himself going by 
 the consciousness of his value, and if, in the 
 hour of triumph, painfully achieved, the mind, 
 rid of this abominable nightmare, gives vent to a 
 shout of joy, and chants a hymn to its own glory, 
 who would dare to reproach it with an excess of 
 pride, so dearly bought at the price of so much 
 discouragement ? 
 
 If anybody has the right to be proud of his 
 success, it is surely your husband, Madame. 
 You who have assisted him in this terrible 
 struggle against fate, you know better than I 
 what amount of courage and energy was re- 
 quired to overcome, one after the other, all the 
 obstacles in his path. If Jacques has drunk 
 deeply the cup of success, he began by making 
 the acquaintances of all the miseries of adversity. 
 Unable to find anybody to play his music, he 
 was obliged to rent a theatre of his own, in 
 order to place his own pieces on the stage ; and
 
 2-i BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 when at last he contrived to open a small house 
 in the Champs Elyse'es, and he might consider 
 himself as having reached the goal of his ambi 
 tion, the administration came down upon him 
 with its shackles of red tape, and compelled him 
 to restrict his intelligence to the narrow frame 
 of pieces with only three characters. He was 
 obliged to conquer step by step the ground on 
 which he has erected the monument of his repu- 
 tation, and 1 am not sure that without your 
 encouragement and your attentions your hus- 
 band would have finally triumphed. I am 
 therefore right in saying, Madame, that you 
 have participated in his works, and that this 
 book belongs to you by right as much as the 
 Maestro's scores. 
 
 I know, Madame, that, in the course of 
 Jacques' long and active career, success has not 
 always been spontaneous, and the public has often 
 been unjust towards your husband. I persist, for 
 instance, in considering the JBergers as one of his 
 best scores, although it was not played hundreds of 
 nights. It is also quite natural that amid so many 
 triumphs, like the Mariage aux Lanternes, la
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 25 
 
 Belle Helene, la Grande Duchesse, la Vie Parisi- 
 enne, les Jfrigands, and a hundred other plays 
 whose titles it is needless to enumerate, his talent 
 should have been at times unequal. But in art, 
 whether small or great, it is only mediocrity 
 which has the privilege of being always at the 
 same level of sufficient insufficiency. Investigat- 
 ing minds, ever anxious and agitated, do not 
 know the never-disturbed joys of permanent 
 satisfaction ; they are one day at the summit and 
 the next, if not at the bottom, at least at the 
 middle of the ladder. Inspiration has its good 
 and evil hours ; the artiste lives on fits of elation 
 and despair. It may be said that in Jacques' 
 colossal repertory a few operettas are of com- 
 paratively small value, but of not one can it be 
 said that it is worthless. In his least-prized 
 works there is always to be found considerable 
 talent and unquestionable individuality. It is 
 always, and despite everything, an art which be- 
 longs to him personally, and a few distant chords 
 suffice to leave no doubt as to the author. He is 
 as easily recognized as a flower at night by its 
 
 peculiar fragrance. 
 2
 
 26 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Nothing, Madame, has been wanting to com- 
 plete the success of your husband. To the ap- 
 plause of the public in every country there has 
 been added the disparagement of a few. But the 
 last have never been able to stem the torrent of his 
 success. Jacques has, for instance, been reproached 
 with having, under another regime, contributed 
 towards what was called the demoralization of the 
 people an empty and confused term, which looks 
 as if it meant something, but which really specifies 
 nothing like all the nonsense talked by people 
 who wish to give themselves an air of importance ; 
 this category of silly detractors has a whole as- 
 sortment of old sores. As for myself, every time 
 I meet a man who says to me : Tu quoqiie 
 Brutus? or Quousque tandem abutere patientia 
 nostra f I fight shy of him, for he is on the 
 point of singing the eternal romance of the 
 demoralization of the people by a theatrical 
 piece. 
 
 It cannot, however, he denied, Madame, that 
 part of your husband's work is a fair reflex of 
 the period in which it was conceived, and it is 
 moreover on that very account that Jacques'
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 27 
 
 talent lias its place marked in the history of this 
 century. Indeed, in his greatest successes, of some 
 twelve or fifteen years ago, there is still evident 
 the Paris of those days the merry, careless Paris, 
 the Paris that loves to laugh, dance, and, in a 
 word, to amuse itself. But how could he have 
 become an artiste of his time, if he had not felt 
 the commotions of his time ? A man must belong 
 to his age, in every branch of art, without excep- 
 tion. Such was Carpeaux ; and for this very reason 
 he has proved superior to all the sculptors who 
 looked but on the past. What is it that endears 
 to us the artistes of former times, whose work was 
 modelled after the ideas of the period ? Teniers, 
 for instance, in the picture of a merry beer-drinker 
 of his day, can much more rightly claim the 
 name of historical painter than those of our con- 
 temporaries, who twice a week begin over again, 
 Caesar before the Rubicon, or else the Battle 
 of Pharsalia. If, then, Jacques has really been 
 the musician of his period, he has fulfilled his 
 task, and more attention will be paid to his work 
 than to the sterile efforts of those who have never 
 done anything else than emulate what existed be-
 
 28 BIOGEAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 fore they came into the world, and have worn 
 out on the pavement of the boulevards what 
 remained of the old shoes of the preceding gen- 
 eration. 
 
 And that is why the name of Jacques Offen- 
 bach is one of the most popular of the time and 
 his talent has delighted the great majority of the 
 public. When a work pleases at once connois- 
 seurs and the crowd, its value is beyond dispute. 
 Jacques is a modern man ; his music has le diable 
 au corps, like our busy century, rushing on under 
 full head of steam. The finale of the first act 
 of the Brigands could never have been conceiv- 
 ed in the days when chaise and coach were 
 the only means of locomotion. It is genuine 
 nineteenth century music ; the music of express- 
 trains and screw-steamers in a word, of the dia- 
 bolical bustle of our time ; and this is why it is 
 popular, not only in France, where Jacques' 
 talent has grown up and to which the composer 
 belongs, but in every country ; and 1 do not 
 think there exists a musician more truly popu- 
 lar than your husband ; and very certainly he 
 will leave his children a name which will act
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 29 
 
 for them as a passport in the four corners of the 
 globe. 
 
 Suppose, Madame, that, some ten years hence, 
 your young son should take it into his head to 
 travel about the world. One fine day do not 
 be frightened, Madame ; this is only a supposition 
 one fine day he falls into the hands of can- 
 nibals : 
 
 " Ah ! " says the chief, " here is a young pale- 
 face, who would be very good eating with a bit 
 of salad." 
 
 Then addressing his victim, he says : 
 " What is thy name, savory stranger ? " 
 " I am the son of Jacques Offenbach." 
 " Cheer up, young man ; thou wilt not be 
 eaten ! " exclaims the chief. " And now let the 
 fun begin ! " and immediately young Offenbach 
 is hoisted onto a throne, the savages strike up the 
 finale of Orphee in token of their joy, and it only 
 depends on your son's inclination for him to be- 
 come at once king of something or other, for all 
 the world like Orelius, the Perigueux attorney.* 
 This is what ought to give you good hope for the 
 
 * Orelie Antoine I. , King of Auricania.
 
 30 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 future, Madame. I have never paid a visit to 
 the savages, but I am an incorrigible touriste. 
 In all the countries where I have travelled the 
 name of Jacques Offenbach is equally cele- 
 brated ; and, believe me, a man who captivates 
 to this extent the attention of his contemporaries 
 is a man of worth, and it may be said of him 
 that if ever in the future his talent should decay, 
 what he has already produced has such a solid 
 foundation that I defy Jacques ever to ruin his 
 own reputation. Despite all criticism and 
 everybody has the right to criticise there is 
 one point upon which all are of the same way of 
 thinking, namely, that his talent is unquestion- 
 able. Some have called him a vulgarizer ; but 
 this word, which, in the mouth of your husband's 
 enemies, would imply censure, is the greatest 
 praise which he could covet. It is not easy to 
 vulgarize an art ; that is to render the charm and 
 seduction of music accessible to the refractory 
 brains. 
 
 At this moment, Madame, your husband is 
 about to make his first appearance in the field of 
 literature. Nobody ever knows what will be the
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 31 
 
 fate of a book ; and I do not think that the pub- 
 lisher, in asking me for a preface, had the inten- 
 tion of setting me to study Offenbach as a writer 
 of prose. This will explain why in this preface I 
 have spoken to you of everything except of this 
 book. The certain success of the work will be 
 found on the title-page, which bears the popular 
 name of the author. A little more or a little 
 less literary merit would add nothing to Jacques' 
 reputation as a musician, and would in no way 
 diminish his reputation as a man of wit ; but I 
 should not be surprised if this literary fancy of a 
 composer of great talent proved a great success 
 as a selling book. All those who owe so many 
 pleasant evenings to Jacques must be curious to 
 know how he writes ; they will find in the narra- 
 tive of his travels in America the same cheerful 
 ease, and the same spontaneous wit which they 
 have been accustomed to find in his scores. Be- 
 sides, I do not think that in writing these pages 
 your husband had the intention of overthrowing 
 the statue of Christopher Columbus and of pla- 
 cing himself in its stead on the quay of Geneva. 
 Jacques cannot precisely be said to have dis-
 
 32 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 covered America, but he contributes a few per- 
 sonal ideas to all that has been written on the 
 New World. 
 
 You, dear Madame, who are one of the most 
 distinguished women I have met, you would not 
 forgive me were I to say more. Your tact is so 
 sure in all these things that I should surely lose 
 your esteem if I were to state that French litera- 
 ture has just been enriched with a glorious mon- 
 ument. Moreover, it is not with the view of 
 such a high destiny that Offenbach has jotted 
 down in black and white his travelling impres- 
 sions. It may be that the wind shall one of these 
 days blow these light leaves away, but what is 
 very sure is, that you and your children will keep 
 them lovingly as a souvenir of that distant voy- 
 age undertaken by an artiste in weak health, 
 under altogether special circumstances not to 
 seek fresh laurels, with which he could well dis- 
 pense, but in order to fulfill the duty of an hon- 
 orable man and of a family chief truly worthy 
 of the name. 
 
 This book, Madame, will console you when 
 you think of the sad days you spent during his
 
 BIOGKAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 33 
 
 long absence. Joy has returned to your house, 
 for a time so silent and sad. I avail myself of 
 this favorable disposition to ask you to excuse 
 me if I have placed your name at the head of 
 this preface without asking your leave. It has 
 afforded me great satisfaction to address these 
 lines to you in acknowledgment of the valued 
 friendship with which you honor me. In this 
 skeptical and busy city you have created a really 
 artistic drawing-room, which is one of the curiosi- 
 ties of Paris, and at the same time a place of re- 
 laxation for those friends who, wearied by the 
 feverish Parisian life, come to breathe at their 
 ease the sweet and serene atmosphere of family 
 life, honorable, laborious, and respected. In this 
 charming home it is quite natural that your hus- 
 band should have developed the more salient 
 qualities of his talent : Wit and Elegance. 
 
 PAKIS, January, 1877. 
 2*
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BEFORE? LEAVING. 
 
 TOWARDS the end of the spring of 1875 I was 
 occupying with my family one of the three 
 large pavilions on the terrace of St. Germain. 
 I am extremely fond of this admirable spot, and 
 I had sought refuge there in the very pardonable 
 hope of enjoying the rest which had become 
 necessary after a most laborious winter. 
 
 My door had been closed against all strangers, 
 and, above all, against all those who had a near 
 or remote connection with theatrical affairs. 
 Twenty years of work and struggle seemed to 
 me sufficient to justify this harsh, but, you will 
 admit, just measure. 
 
 I was thus living quietly in the midst of my 
 family a very numerous one and of my in-
 
 36 OFFENBACH m AMEKICA. 
 
 timate friends. It was not absolute solitude, but 
 it was at least peace and quiet. 
 
 One morning, while I was playing in the gar- 
 den with one of my children, Mademoiselle 
 Schneider's visit was announced. I had not the 
 heart to order the rules enforced against her ; I 
 have much friendship for the Grande Duchesse 
 de Gerolstein, and, when I meet her, it always 
 seems to me as if I saw my successes walking 
 about. 
 
 We were chatting of everything and of noth- 
 ing of the great battles we had fought together 
 before the footlights and, why should I not say 
 it, of our past victories, and perhaps also of the 
 battles to come when I was handed a card, on 
 which I read a name completely unknown to me. 
 
 I was aboiit scolding my servant, when the 
 owner of the card made his appearance in per- 
 son. He was a very correct and polite-looking 
 gentleman ; but I saw at once I had to deal with 
 a man going straight to the point, and that, will- 
 ing or not, I should be obliged to hear what he 
 had to say ; so 1 submitted to my fate. 
 
 " Pray, sir," he said to me, " excuse this intru-
 
 BEFORE LEAVING. 37 
 
 sion upon your privacy, but I have come to see 
 you on important business ; I will not detain you 
 long, for you will only have to answer yes or 
 no." 
 
 " 1 am listening, sir." 
 
 " I am commissioned, sir, to ask you whether 
 you would like to go to America ? " 
 
 I was so little prepared for such a formidable 
 proposition, that I could not help laughing right 
 out. 
 
 " Let me assure you, sir," I said to my visitor, 
 " that even for a large sum of money I would not 
 go to St. Cloud to-day." 
 
 "I am not speaking of St. Cloud, or of to-day, 
 sir. The simple question is, will you go to the 
 Philadelphia Exhibition next spring ? " 
 
 " To Philadelphia ! and, pray, for what pur- 
 pose ? " 
 
 " Americans, sir, are very partial to great art- 
 istes ; they welcome them magnificently, and pay 
 them in the same style." 
 
 " Well, sir, I must confess that your proposal 
 is a serious and very flattering one, and that at 
 any rate it seems well worthy of consideration."
 
 38 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 " Oh ! sir, I never expected that you would 
 decide on the spot. Take your own time. I have 
 but a very simple mission to fulfil to know 
 whether you would like to go to Philadelphia. 
 If you give me a favorable reply, the interested 
 parties will come and confer with you ; if not, I 
 shall only regret having intruded upon you, 
 while not forgetting the honor you have done 
 me, in deigning to listen to what I had to say." 
 
 I remained silent for a moment : a thousand 
 thoughts coursed through my brain. Those who 
 have families, and who are conscious of their 
 duty, will understand without explanation what 
 these thoughts were ; as for others, they would 
 not understand them even with a lengthy ex- 
 planation. 
 
 At last I replied : 
 
 " Well, sir, I cannot say that I would like to 
 go to America, because, irrespective of my fifty 
 years of age, there are many things which detain 
 me here ; however, in due time, and under such 
 conditions as you lead me to expect, I should not 
 hesitate to go." 
 
 My visitor bowed.
 
 BEFORE LEAVING. 39 
 
 " This is all I wish to ascertain," he said. 
 
 During breakfast I spoke of the visit I had 
 just received ; but although my tale was told in 
 the most jovial tone possible, it met with no suc- 
 cess whatever. 
 
 " It is madness ! " was the general outcry. 
 
 I hastened to demonstrate that the affair was 
 in no wise to be taken in earnest ; I even offered 
 to bet that I should never hear any more of it. 
 But a cloud had settled over the minds of all, my 
 own included, and there it remained for the rest 
 of the season. How little it takes to sadden, 
 happy days, and what folly it is to leave the 
 front door open ! 
 
 The very next day I received the visit of M. 
 Bacquero, who had hastened to write as soon as 
 he had heard of my decision. 
 
 M. Bacquero is a business man in the best 
 meaning of the term ; his offer was such that I 
 did not think myself justified in hesitating an 
 instant, and I at once signed the engagement 
 which he tendered me. 
 
 On that day it was needless for me to relate 
 what had occurred ; my family had guessed the
 
 40 OFFENBACH m AMERICA. 
 
 result of the visit, and I became more than ever 
 aware, on seeing my wife and children making 
 so many vain efforts to conceal their tears, of the 
 sweet and holy affection with which I was sur- 
 rounded. So much sadness and such gentle re- 
 proaches were not calculated to give me the cour- 
 age of which I stood more in need than any one 
 thought. I spent long, sleepless nights, and in 
 the morning dared not go to sleep, lest on wak- 
 ing I should not be able to command a smile in 
 order to comfort the dear souls who came to 
 greet me with a sorrowful good-morning. Then 
 1 imagined a thousand tranquillizing theories. 
 "We had the winter before us a winter is a very 
 long period of time who knows what may hap- 
 pen in the course of nine months ? The Exhibi- 
 tion might not take place, or might be indefi- 
 nitely postponed ; such things occurred every day. 
 America had had a long war; another might 
 break out again in fact, it was almost sure to do 
 so. I was in the position of the poor devil in 
 the fable whom the king had commanded to 
 teach his ass to read, under penalty of being 
 hanged. The good man had accepted, asking
 
 BEFORE LEAVING. 41 
 
 ten years to accomplish this miracle ; and, as he 
 was blamed, he replied : 
 
 " It would be bad luck, indeed, if in ten years 
 either the king, the ass, or myself is not dead." 
 
 But the philosopher had ten years before him 
 to accomplish this miracle, whereas I had only 
 six months ; the time seemed to pass with light- 
 ning speed. 
 
 One last hope remained a very human, very 
 prosaic hope. According to the terms of the 
 agreement, a considerable sum of money was to 
 be deposited in my friend Bischofsheim's bank, 
 and I had endeavored to convince myself, in 
 order to convince my family, that this formality 
 would not be accomplished. 
 
 One day I met one of those men who always 
 know all the news, nobody knows how ; and, as 
 soon as he caught sight of me, he exclaimed : 
 
 " I have heard from yonder ; your funds will 
 not come." 
 
 It seemed to me as if this amiable man had 
 roused me in the middle of a frightful night- 
 mare. Instead of going to the club, I told the 
 coachman to drive back home, and the worthy
 
 42 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 fellow sent his horse along at a rattling pace, 
 knowing full well that I was the bearer of good 
 news. 
 
 Indeed, I had no sooner communicated the 
 gossip, than everybody's face beamed with joy, 
 and frantic delight took possession of the house- 
 hold. It did not last long, however. On the 
 appointed day the cash was deposited ; and this 
 momentary delight only served to intensify the 
 grievous sorrow of parting.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PASSAGE OUT. 
 
 THE moment had come. Always a painful 
 one for a man who has lived all his life iu 
 Europe, and who is about to enter upon a long 
 journey towards a distant country ; and it was 
 only after long hesitation that I finally resolved 
 to undertake the proposed voyage. 
 
 I left Paris on the 21st of April. My two 
 sons-in-law, Charles Comte and Achille Tournal, 
 my two brothers-in-law, Gaston and Robert 
 Mitchel, and a few friends among whom were 
 Albert Wolff, Mendel, and my son accompa- 
 nied me to Havre. I was deeply moved when I 
 went on board the ship the next morning. I 
 had endeavored to make the separation less pain- 
 ful by leaving my wife and daughters iu Paris ; 
 but how i regretted them now ! 
 
 The ship started ; and, as she grazed the pier,
 
 44 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 and my eyes dwelt for the last time on my 
 young boy, I felt a pang within, me such as none 
 but a father can understand. 
 
 1 While the ship was steaming away, my eyes 
 were riveted upon that little group, in the midst 
 of which stood my dear child. The sun shining 
 brightly on the brass buttons of his college uni- 
 form, enabled me for a long time to make out 
 the exact spot where he stood, and which my 
 heart would otherwise have guessed. 
 
 Here I am on the Canada, a fine ship, spick 
 and span new. 
 
 She left the quay at eight o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, and we are already far from land. The vessel 
 is a fast one. Like myself, she is making her first 
 trip to America. Accustomed to first representa- 
 tions, I do not mind being present at her first 
 appearance on the ocean. 
 
 Allow me now to introduce to you a few of the' 
 
 j 
 
 ship's company. A tout Seigneur, tout honneur. 
 Captain Franzeue is a true sailor, an excellent 
 man, a charming talker, who makes it a point to 
 use his wit to make the trip seem shorter to his 
 passengers.
 
 THE PASSAGE OUT. 45 
 
 M. Betsellere, the steward, has already had the 
 good luck of being shipwrecked. He was on 
 board the Gironde, when that vessel came into 
 collision with the Louisiane and foundered. 
 
 He had a miraculous escape; and now he 
 is not afraid of anything. II en a vu Men 
 dautres ! 
 
 Our very youthful surgeon, M. Flamant, is also 
 crossing the Atlantic for the first time. Poor 
 doctor ! His medicine was of no avail against 
 sea- sickness. 
 
 We had not been gone two days before he 
 ceased to appear at the table, and I took a cun- 
 ning pleasure in sending every morning to inquire 
 how he was getting on. 
 
 Among the passengers was, first of all, Ma- 
 demoiselle Aimee, who had just returned from 
 a very successful season in .Russia ; Boulard, 
 whom I was taking with me as orchestra leader, 
 and who had his young wife with him; M. 
 Bacquero, a charming American, firmly resolved 
 to introduce me to his compatriots, and who had 
 succeeded, with the aid of the mighty dollar, in,, 
 persuading me to undertake this little artistic
 
 46 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 tour; Arigotti, a tenore robusto, pupil of the 
 Paris Conservatory, who, having lost his voice, 
 had found a situation as secretary to M. Bac- 
 quero. He was a good pianist, and hail-fellow 
 well met, with everybody on board ; two pretty 
 Philadelphia ladies ; a few tradesmen going on to 
 see the Exhibition, and a few exhibitors going on 
 to trade; finally, a few travellers of no con- 
 sequence. I cannot give a better idea of our trip 
 than by quoting here the few lines I sent to my 
 wife after lauding : 
 
 " The first two days passed off very well. The 
 weather was superb. I slept admirably on the 
 Saturday while we touched at Plymouth. I had 
 become quite accustomed to the rocking motion 
 of the ship so well accustomed that, when on 
 Sunday night she suddenly stopped, I started up 
 out of my sleep. My limited experience of sea 
 voyages induced me to suppose that this sudden 
 stoppage was the result of an accident. I jumped 
 out of my berth, dressed in double quick time, 
 and went on deck. 
 
 " It was a false alarm. The ship was under 
 way again ; but my sleep had left me, and with
 
 THE PASSAGE OUT. 47 
 
 it a good deal of my confidence. I lay down 
 without undressing, fearing that an accident 
 might happen at any moment ; for every few 
 minutes the ship stopped, her screw being out of 
 order. 
 
 " As if this were not enough, a storm came on 
 to complicate the situation. For three days and 
 four nights we were horribly tossed and tumbled 
 about. The rolling and pitching were frightful. 
 Inside the ship everything that was not made 
 particularly fast was soon knocked to pieces ; it 
 was equally difficult to stand up or sit down. 
 On the Monday my cabin became so uncom- 
 fortable, that I had to ask leave to sleep in the 
 saloon. The captain and the whole ship's com- 
 pany were most kind and considerate to me. They 
 remained with me part of the night, and endeav- 
 ored by every possible means to persuade me 
 there was no danger. 
 
 " ' It is splendid,' the captain said to me ; 
 1 just come up and see how the ship dashes right 
 into the waves, only to come out magnificently 
 a minute afterwards ! ' 
 
 "'My dear captain,' I answered, 'to see a
 
 48 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 tempest at a distance must be frightfully inter- 
 esting ; but I must say, that to play a part in the 
 piece, as one of the actors, has, to my mind, but 
 precious little f uu in it.' 
 
 " Let me give you a characteristic trait of a 
 young American girl, who was on board with 
 her sister. At the very worst of the storm, 
 when more than one was quietly saying his 
 prayers and commending his soul to God (I 
 wasn't the last to do so, I assure you !), the 
 little American girl said to her sister: 'Sis- 
 ter, you really ought to try to get down and 
 fetch my pretty little hat. I would like to die 
 with all my fine things on.' ' Shall we bring up 
 your gloves too ? ' quietly rejoined the younger 
 one. 
 
 " Before entering the harbor, the Canada 
 stopped at the two little islands known as the 
 Quarantine, where the health and custom-house 
 officers pay their usual visits to the ship. 
 
 " When a ship has any sick persons on board, 
 they are landed on the first of these islands ; arid 
 when they get better, they are taken to the other, 
 where they remain until quite well.
 
 THE PASSAGE OUT. 49 
 
 " Formerly these two islands did not exist. It 
 was on the Long Island shore that the vessels 
 stopped to wait for the custom-house officers and 
 the doctors. The inhabitants of this locality 
 where wholly indifferent to the custom-house offi- 
 cers ; but not so to the doctors, who bothered them 
 immensely with their sick. The Long Islanders 
 objected strongly to the unceasing importation of 
 plague-stricken people who were sent to them 
 from the four points of the globe. They finally 
 declared one day that, in future, Long Island 
 should not serve as a hospital, and that, even if 
 they had to fire on the vessels, they would no 
 longer allow them to land their sick on the 
 island. l But where would you have us put 
 them ? ' asked the Governor of the State of New 
 York. 
 
 " ' Put them on the island opposite ; we have 
 had them long enough! It is Staten Island's 
 turn now ! ' 
 
 " The Governor thought this demand, supported 
 by rifles and shot-guns, sufficiently well founded 
 to justify him in giving the order to transport 
 
 the quarantine to the above-named island. 
 3
 
 50 OFFENBACH IN AMEEICA. 
 
 " The inhabitants of Staten Island, however, did 
 not content themselves with threats ; they went 
 into open rebellion, and quietly set fire to the 
 first ships which attempted to land, without in- 
 quiring whether or not they carried plague- 
 stricken passengers. 
 
 " The authorities were not a little puzzled. But 
 in America it is not the custom to remain long 
 puzzled. The board met, and resolved that, since 
 the two inhabited islands would not consent, 
 under any circumstances, to receive the sick, two 
 other islands should be constructed on which 
 there should be no inhabitants. A short time 
 afterwards the two islands now before us rose out 
 of the sea as if by magic. The whole spirit of 
 the American people is revealed by this feat. 
 
 " As we were expected the evening before, 
 they had organized an excursion to meet me. 
 
 " Vessels, decorated with flags and Venetian 
 lanterns, had on boaxd newspaper men, sight-seers, 
 a military band of sixty to eighty pieces, and 
 waited for me at Sandy Hook ; but, as we did not 
 come, the vessel put farther out to sea, still 
 hoping to meet us. They were jolly on board ;
 
 THE PASSAGE OUT. 51 
 
 they sang, they laughed, the band played our 
 prettiest tunes ; but, as they got out, sea-sickness 
 began to assert its rights, and the musicians were 
 ' not the last to feel its effects, which produced the 
 same result as that in Haydn's comic symphony, 
 where the musicians disappear one after the 
 other, putting out the lights as they go only that 
 ours had no lights to put out ; but, instead of 
 giving forth sounds, they gave forth, one after 
 another, their souls to the sea. 
 
 " "We were soon hailed by another craft, having 
 on board the chief reporters of the New York 
 press. Ton will understand that I took all the 
 pains in the world not to make quite a fool of 
 myself ; and I assure you that upon our arrival at 
 New York, two hours afterwards, we were already 
 very good friends. 
 
 " At night, on returning from the theatre (for 
 on the very first day I went to two theatres), I 
 saw a crowd assembled in front of my hotel ; 
 electric lights everywhere, so that you would 
 have imagined yourself in broad daylight. 
 Above the balcony of the hotel was an inscrip- 
 tion in big letters : ' Welcome, Offenbach.' An
 
 52 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 orchestra of some sixty musicians were serenad- 
 ing me. They played Orjphee, the Grande 
 Duchesse, etc. I dare not tell you of all the 
 cheering, the shouts of ' Hurrah for Offenbach ! ' 
 I was forced to appear on the balcony, just like 
 Gambetta, and 1 shouted out a tremendous 
 * Thank you, gentlemen ! ' a polite utterance 
 which, I trust, will not be suspected of subver- 
 sive intentions. 
 
 " On Saturday I was invited to a dinner, given 
 in my honor by the Lotos Club, one of the first 
 clubs here literary men, artists, merchants, 
 bankers, many newspaper men of all shades of 
 opinion. I send you the menu of the dinner. 
 
 " ' I knew,' I said, in reply to a toast, ' that for 
 a long time I had been liked by the Americans 
 as a composer, and I hoped that when I had the 
 honor of being better known to them I should 
 also be liked as a man. I propose,' I added, l a 
 toast to the United States, but not the United 
 States purely and simply. Inasmuch as the 
 arts, like nations, are kindred, I propose the 
 States United to Europe ! ' * 
 
 * Les Etats Unis a 1'Europe.
 
 THE PASSAGE OUT. 53 
 
 " This speech, which the excitement of the mo- 
 ment can alone excuse, was loudly cheered. 
 Yesterday (Monday) I was invited to the Press 
 Club. Nothing but newspaper men, charming 
 fellows, witty all, the majority speaking French 
 very well, many of them having spent more or 
 less time in France. Plenty of speeches ad- 
 dressed to me, and to which 1 replied as best I 
 could."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 NEW YORK GILMOKE'S GAKDEN. 
 
 ON arriving at New York, I put up at the 
 Fifth Avenue Hotel, which deserves a descrip- 
 tion, as in Europe one can form no idea of this 
 kind of establishment. There is every conve- 
 nience at hand ; a dressing-room, bath, and closet 
 are provided for each room. The ground floor 
 of the hotel is an immense bazar a little com- 
 mercial city, in which every trade is represented. 
 There is the hair-dresser of the hotel, the hatter, 
 the tailor, the druggist, the bookseller, even the 
 boot-black of the hotel. One mighjt arrive at a 
 hotel as lightly dressed as Adam before the fall, 
 as long-haired as Absalom before he caught in 
 the tree, and depart as respectable as the famous 
 Comte d'Orsay of fashionable memory. Every- 
 thing is to be found in the Fifth Avenue Hotel 
 everything, with the exception, however, of
 
 NEW YORK GILMOEE'S GARDEN. 55 
 
 a polyglot; this alone is entirely wanting. 
 Among the two hundred waiters of this gigan- 
 tic establishment you would seek in vain for one 
 who spoke French. This is not very pleasant 
 for those who cannot speak English ; but, in 
 compensation for this, what numberless com- 
 forts ! 
 
 For twenty dollars a day you have a bed-room 
 and sitting-room, with all the conveniences just 
 enumerated, and the right of eating all day long. 
 From eight to eleven o'clock, there is breakfast ; 
 from twelve to three in the afternoon, lunch ; 
 from five to seven, dinner ; from eight to eleven, 
 tea. The dining-room is on the first floor; as 
 soon as you appear at the door of this immense 
 hall, where fifty tables are methodically ar- 
 ranged, the steward meets you, and shows _ you 
 to a seat. Resistance, fancy or preference for 
 one corner rather than for another, are vain. 
 The maitre cPhotel (steward) is also master of 
 the hotel, and will place next to you whoever he 
 chooses, without as much as asking your leave. 
 When you are seated, the waiter, without asking 
 what you will take, brings you a large glass of
 
 56 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 ice- water; for there is one thing worthy of note 
 in America : it is, that, of all the fifty tables in 
 the room, there is not one upon which anything 
 but ice- water is drunk; if by chance you see 
 wine or beer before a guest, you may be certain 
 that he is a European. 
 
 After the glass of water, the waiter hands you 
 the list of the eighty dishes of the day I do not 
 exaggerate; you make your choice, selecting 
 three or four ; and the most comical part of the 
 business is, that all you have ordered is brought 
 you at once. If you have unfortunately forgot- 
 ten to mention the vegetables you desire, then 
 the fifteen vegetables down on the bill-of-fare 
 will all be brought you at the same time. So that 
 you find yourself suddenly surrounded by thirty 
 dishes soup, fish, meat, vegetables, and sweets, 
 without counting the rear-guard of desserts, which 
 is always composed of at least a dozen varieties. 
 All is arranged before you, bidding defiance to 
 your stomach ; the first time it makes you dizzy 
 and takes away all appetite. 
 
 I will say no more about American hotels for 
 the moment, as I intend to give a more minute
 
 NEW YORK GELMORE'S GARDEN. 57 
 
 description of them hereafter. I breakfast 
 hurriedly, for my one wish, my one desire since 
 arriving, is to see the famous covered Garden 
 where, as Bilboquet would say, I am about to dis- 
 play my talents ; I hastened then to Gilmore's 
 Garden. 
 
 Imagine a vast covered garden. In the centre 
 of a great mass of tropical plants stands the stage, 
 large enough to accommodate an orchestra of a 
 hundred to a hundred and twenty musicians. 
 All around are grass-plots, shrubbery, and flower- 
 beds, among which the public circulate. Facing 
 the entry is a large cascade, which imitates 
 Niagara Falls during the interludes. The cor- 
 ners of the Garden are occupied by little Swiss 
 cottages, which can hold seven or eight persons, 
 and which advantageously supply the place of 
 boxes in a theatre. A large gallery, with ordi- 
 nary boxes and tiers of seats, afford facilities for 
 those who like seeing and hearing from an eleva- 
 tion, to satisfy their taste. 
 
 The ensemble reminds one somewhat of the 
 old Jardin d'Hiver, once so popular in the 
 Champs-Elyse'es. The hall has a capacity of
 
 58 OFFENBACH IN AMEKICA. 
 
 eight to nine thousand persons. It is brilliantly 
 lit up ; colored glasses are hung in festoons of 
 the most picturesque effect. 
 
 Delighted with the hall, I asked Mr. Grau, the 
 manager, a few particulars upon the orchestra I 
 was to lead. 
 
 " We have engaged," he answered me, " the 
 hundred and ten musicians you asked for ; and I 
 can assure you they are the best in New York." 
 
 I soon discovered that he had not deceived me. 
 
 I had the rare good fortune of gaining the sym- 
 pathy of my orchestra from the start ; and here 
 is how it happened : The musicians have here a 
 vast and powerful organization, and have consti- 
 tuted a society, outside of which there is no 
 salvation. Any one who wishes to join an orches- 
 tra must first become a member of the society. 
 There is no exception to this rule; from the 
 leader to the drummer inclusively, all must 
 belong to it. 
 
 I had been advised of this state of things by 
 Boulard, who had already led one or two re- 
 hearsals, and who had been obliged to join the 
 association in order to be allowed to lead.
 
 NEW YOEK GILMOEE'S GARDEN. 59 
 
 On my entering the hall, the musicians re- 
 ceived me with a regular ovation, for which I 
 returned thanks in a few words. 
 
 We begin the rehearsal with the overture 
 of " Vert- Vert" I had scarcely led sixteen 
 bars when I stopped the orchestra, and, address- 
 ing the musicians : 
 
 " Excuse me, gentlemen," I said. " We have 
 scarcely begun, and you have already failed in 
 your duty." 
 
 General astonishment. 
 
 " What ! I am not a member of your associa- 
 tion, and you allow me to lead ! " 
 
 Whereupon there was a general laugh. I 
 waited until this had subsided, and then added, 
 quite seriously : 
 
 " Since you have not thought proper to men- 
 tion it to me, I must myself request to be 
 admitted into your society." 
 
 They protested ; but I insisted, saying that I 
 entirely approved of their institution, and should 
 consider it an honor to belong to it. 
 
 My request was received with long and loud 
 applause. I had conquered my orchestra, and
 
 60 OFFENBACH IN 'AMERICA. 
 
 from this moment we were all members of the 
 same family, and the most perfect harmony 
 never ceased to prevail among us. It is fair to 
 add that the orchestra was composed in a 
 superior manner ; for each of my pieces two 
 rehearsals were always sufficient to insure a most 
 brilliant rendering.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE HOUSES THE STREETS THE CAES. 
 
 I DID not stay long in the Fifth Avenue Hotel, 
 where they eat so much, and where they speak so 
 little French. After three or four days I went 
 to reside at a private house in Madison Square. 
 Here again I was able to judge to what extent 
 comfort is carried in America. Not only are 
 there furnaces supplying heat for all the apart- 
 ments, gas in all the rooms, hot and cold water 
 at all times, but on the ground floor there are 
 three pretty little knobs, of great importance. 
 These three knobs represent three considerable 
 forces: protection of the law, help in case of 
 accident, and the services of an assistant. All 
 this represented by three knobs ? Certainly ; and 
 there is no magic about it either ! 
 
 The three knobs are electric ones ; you press 
 upon the first, and a porter appears to take your
 
 62 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 orders. You touch the second, and a policeman 
 comes to place himself at your disposition. The 
 third knob enables you to give the alarm, in case 
 of fire, and brings, in a few seconds, a whole 
 brigade of firemen around your house. 
 
 Nor is this all. Besides these three knobs you 
 may, if you choose, have in your study what is 
 to be found in all the leading hotels, bar-rooms, 
 eating-houses, public-houses, and even cigar-stores, 
 viz.: the telegraph. You have only to express 
 the desire, and they will set up in your house a 
 little apparatus which will function from morn- 
 ing till night and from night till morning, and 
 which gives you all the news from both worlds. 
 A continuous slip of paper, unrolling in a wicker 
 basket, enables you to read the last dispatches 
 from Paris, the news of the war in the East, as 
 well as of the elections in Cincinnati or St. Louis. 
 At all hours you can ascertain the rise or fall of 
 all the stock markets in the world, and can see 
 whether you have made or lost a fortune. 
 
 If the New York houses are extremely practi- 
 cal, the city itself is organized in a marvellous 
 manner. The Americans do not, like us, name
 
 THE HOUSES THE STREETS THE CAKS. 63 
 
 their streets after the people who govern, nor 
 change the names of the streets every time a 
 government disappears ; it would not do for that 
 republic which changes its President every four 
 years. At the end of twenty years a street would 
 have had more names than the most renowned 
 hidalgos of Castillo. To avoid the inconvenience 
 of this system, the Americans prefer naming 
 their streets and their avenues hy numbers : First 
 Avenue, Second Avenue; this has nothing to 
 do with politics, and needs no change. In the 
 squares, which are magnificent, but few statues 
 are to be seen ; there is one of Washington, a 
 very modest one. This is a great contrast to 
 France, where everybody is more or less sculp- 
 tured in marble or moulded in bronze, in conse- 
 quence of which our country begins to look like 
 an immense museum of men in frock-coats, or a 
 collection of dummies for a ready-made clothing- 
 store. 
 
 From my window I discovered in Madison 
 Square a curious and charming feature. On 
 the upper branches of the trees are placed little 
 houses, half hid in the foliage. These are to
 
 64: OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 lodge the sparrows brought from Europe ; these 
 little birds, brought from their mother country, 
 are the objects of the greatest attention ; the law 
 protects them, and it is forbidden to touch them ; 
 they are as much respected as the pigeons of 
 Saint Mark. 
 
 Most of the streets are literally spoilt by the 
 rails which cross them in every direction ; these 
 are used for the tramways, to which here they 
 give the name of cars. 
 
 The American car is not at all like our French 
 vehicles, not even like those which Parisians call 
 American omnibuses. The number of passengers 
 is not limited ; although all the seats may be 
 occupied, there is always room ; the last comers 
 stand holding on to straps which hang from 
 the inside, or crowd upon the platform ; in case 
 of necessity, they would sit on the conductor's 
 shoulders ; so long as there is a projection free, a 
 knee vacant, a step unoccupied, the car is not con- 
 sidered full. A car, which is built for twenty- 
 four persons, thus often carries three times as 
 many from one end of the town to another, and 
 for the modest sum of five cents.
 
 THE HOUSES THE STREETS THE CABS. 65 
 
 Americans, who are shrewd fellows, have 
 found the way to utilize for their private account 
 the numerous rails which are laid on nearly 
 every street, by making the wheels of their car- 
 riages to fit the tracks ; in this manner they go 
 faster, and fatigue their horses less ; they leave 
 the tracks merely to pass ahead of the heavy cars 
 of the company. 
 
 Sometimes the cars come at full speed behind 
 them, before they have time to get out of the 
 way ; but an accident of this kind is soon re- 
 paired: the horses scramble to their feet, the 
 driver climbs upon his box without grumbling, 
 and quietly returns to the track as soon as the 
 car has gone by. The omnibuses, which do not go 
 on rails, have no conductor to receive the money ; 
 the passenger himself pays his fare, by dropping 
 the change in a little box placed for the purpose. 
 
 I asked an American, if the company did not 
 lose much money by this system ; he replied that 
 it would cost dearer to pay a conductor, and some 
 one to look after him, and that they lost less in 
 trusting to the honesty of the passengers. The 
 practical side of the Americans is seen in the
 
 66 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 most trifling details ; the little box, of which I 
 have just spoken, answers two purposes : during 
 the day it receives the pennies ; in the evening 
 it is lit up and becomes a lantern. A great 
 number of vehicles are covered by gigantic para- 
 sols, which serve to protect the coachmen from 
 the heat, which is terrible, and to bear advertise- 
 ments. I was told that this monster parasol was 
 changed every week at the expense of the adver- 
 tiser. The success of the cars, which pass every 
 minute or two, is considerable, as this kind of 
 locomotion has quite entered into American 
 habits ; even the ladies and the richest people 
 make use of it ; and they are right, for cabs or 
 coaches, with one or two horses, are excessively 
 dear. It is true they are comfortable and well 
 kept ; but it is hard to pay a dollar and a half, 
 for a ride in a one-horse cab ; those with two 
 horses cost two dollars seven francs and a half, 
 and ten francs ; and should you omit to settle on 
 a price in advance, they would ask you, for a 
 drive to the Central Park, seven dollars thirty- 
 five francs for a two hours' drive. 
 
 While the great number of cars and omni-
 
 THE HOUSES THE STREETS THE CARS. 67 
 
 buses which circulate through the streets of 
 New York offer evident advantages, they also 
 present serious dangers for foot-passengers; 
 therefore, at most of the busiest crossings, 
 passage-ways laid in flag-stones have been es- 
 tablished, and a policeman has charge, to see 
 that pedestrians are not run over ; he fulfils 
 his duty in the most paternal manner, taking 
 ladies and children by the hand, leading them 
 to the opposite side of the street, stopping all 
 the carriages on the crossing. This precau- 
 tion is much appreciated by the American 
 ladies, who readily go out of their way to be 
 piloted across by the agent of the public force. 
 I was told that, should one be run over on 
 the crossing, a large amount of damages could 
 be recovered by the injured party ; but if this 
 misfortune should occur at a time when you 
 happen to be on the pavement, just outside 
 the crossing, not only you have no right to 
 recover anything, but the owner of the car- 
 riage can demand damages for his loss of time.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE THEATRES OF NEW YOKK. 
 
 ONE of my first cares, on arriving at New 
 York, was to visit such theatres as were still 
 open. 
 
 The principal theatres of the city are admira- 
 bly well managed ; they are all built on the same 
 plan, in the form of a vast amphitheatre, with 
 several tiers of seats, in long rows; there are 
 generally only eight boxes in each of them four 
 proscenium boxes on the right, and four on the 
 left. Even these few boxes are almost always 
 empty, even when the rest of the building is 
 crowded. The best society prefers seats in the 
 orchestra or dress circle. 
 
 As there are very few managers who are per- 
 manently in the business, the theatres are let for 
 a season, a month, or even a week. 
 
 A manager has the right to fail two or three
 
 THE THEATRES OF NEW YORK. 69 
 
 times ; he is not thought the worse of for such a 
 trifling thing as that ; the deeper he plunges, the 
 quicker he returns to the surface. 
 
 They showed me a highly respected manager, 
 who had managed to fail six or seven times. 
 
 " He is very clever," they told me ; " next win- 
 ter he will bring out a splendid company." 
 
 I asked how he would find the money. 
 
 " The persons to whom he owes," they replied, 
 "keep lending him in hopes that he will suc- 
 ceed some day, and that they will have a chance 
 to recover what they have lost." 
 
 They perform grand operas at the Academy 
 of Music ; but I was unable to see one, as during 
 eight months the theatre had only been open 
 some sixty times. 
 
 There had been four weeks of fair success, 
 when Tietiens appeared in JVbrma ; then, Stra- 
 kosch arrived with Bellocca, who did not have 
 much success, notwithstanding the tremendous 
 puffing which had preceded her. 
 
 The most brilliant periods of this theatre were 
 during the engagements of Nilsson, of Lucca, of 
 Morel, of Capoul, and of Campanini. At Booth's
 
 70 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 Theatre, tragedy, comedy, or opera are played, 
 according to' the fancy of the manager who hires 
 the theatre. I saw Henry the Fifth played 
 there by an actor of merit, Mr. Kignold ; the 
 scenery was very fine. 
 
 One week later the North Star was played on 
 the same stage, with Miss Kellogg, an American 
 singer, between thirty-two or thirty-four years of 
 age, and who has a very fine voice. Meyerbeer's 
 opera, not having been sufficiently rehearsed, 
 totally lacked ensemble, especially in the finale of 
 the second act. The chorus and the orchestra 
 seemed engaged in an unsuccessful game of hide 
 and seek. Upon the whole, it was not unlike the 
 performance of one of Wagner's weakest works. 
 
 A rather funny thing, however, was to see, 
 among the spectators in the orchestra stalls, a 
 number of trombones and bassoons, who put 
 in a note from time to time. I must say this 
 puzzled me. Who were these musicians ? Were 
 they amateurs, trombones by vocation, who had 
 come voluntarily to strengthen the orchestra ? I 
 had not to wait long for an explanation : a glance 
 was sufficient to discover the cause of this anom-
 
 THE THEATRES OF NEW YOKE. 71 
 
 aly. The space allotted to the orchestra was not 
 large enough, and the brass instruments had been 
 removed outside the railing. 
 
 At the Union Square Theatre I heard JFer- 
 reol in English, with a first-class company. I 
 attended, also, a performance of Conscience a 
 very good play, by two young American authors, 
 Messrs. Lancaster and Magnus. In the same house, 
 I was told, Rose Michel had been performed 
 with immense success. 
 
 On the evening of my visit to Wallack's Thea- 
 tre the four hundredth performance of the 
 Mighty Dollar was given, and the principal 
 parts were played by Mr. and Mrs. Florence, 
 both actors of superior ability. They reminded 
 me, the first of our excellent Geoffrey, the latter 
 of our lively Alphonsine. This pair of artists have 
 been playing together for more than twenty years, 
 and enjoy great favor with the Americans. The 
 perfect concert of the other actors, in their per- 
 formance, was quite remarkable. I noticed par- 
 ticularly a charming ingenue, scarcely seventeen 
 years of age, Miss Baker, who does honor to her 
 part as a youthful prima-donna ; and I must not
 
 72 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 forget to mention the elegant and sympathetic 
 Miss Cummins. 
 
 Mr. Deutsch, manager of Wallack's, is one of 
 the youngest as also one of the cleverest New 
 York managers. Some idea may be formed of 
 American theatrical management by the re- 
 engagement of Mr. and Mrs. Florence for four hun- 
 dred nights. Mr. Deutsch expects to visit with 
 them all the principal cities of the Union, from 
 New York to San Francisco giving always the 
 same play, the Mighty Dollar. 
 
 The Lyceum Theatre was closed for the sum- 
 mer season. In this theatre Fechter had great 
 success, in the Dame aux Camelias and in 
 several other plays. Dramas with chorus and 
 orchestra have also been frequently performed 
 here. 
 
 In the Lyceum Theatre the first attempt was 
 made to remove the orchestra out of sight of 
 the public, a novelty lately renewed by Wagner 
 at Bayreuth. The nuisance of this innovation 
 was soon found out. First of all, the acoustics 
 were wretched. Then the musicians, who were 
 crowded into a subterranean receptacle, suffering
 
 THE THEATRES OF NEW YORK. 73 
 
 from the excessive heat, undertook to remedy 
 the difficulty as best they could. 
 
 On the first evening a fiddler removed his 
 cravat, and unbuttoned his waistcoat; on the fol- 
 lowing night the altos took off their coats, and 
 played in their shirt-sleeves ; and within a week 
 all the musicians were doing as much. Finally, 
 one evening the public perceived, rising from 
 beneath the stage, a light cloud of smoke ; there 
 was at once a real panic : it proved to be only the 
 musicians enjoying a smoke. This was the last of 
 this foolish innovation. The musicians put on 
 their coats, and returned to their accustomed 
 position. 
 
 Another theatre, which I was unable to see, 
 is the Grand Opera House, which was likewise 
 closed. This was built by the famous Fisk, who 
 was assassinated by his friend Stokes. This 
 Fisk was one of the most eccentric and famous 
 "N~ew York characters : the son of poor parents, 
 he earned his livelihood, when a youth, by selling 
 small wares and hair-oil. He became not only 
 manager of the largest theatre in New York, but 
 
 also vice-president of a railway company, corn- 
 et
 
 74 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 modore of a line of steamers, and colonel of a 
 regiment. 
 
 He was bold and energetic in his enterprises, 
 and showed great originality in his ways. Every 
 person who wanted employment on his railway 
 had first to enlist in his regiment; and in this 
 manner he organized one of the finest regiments 
 in New York. Occasionally he would take a 
 fancy to call out his men, and have them march 
 gallantly in presence of some fair dame. On such 
 occasions the railway trafiic was suspended, and 
 the stations were closed along the whole line. 
 
 This magnificent colonel possessed splendid 
 carriages and horses, and never drove out other- 
 wise than in a beautiful open carriage, drawn by 
 eight fine horses. 
 
 His tragic death was the result of a love affair ; 
 the great impresario fell a victim to a domestic 
 tragedy, and a two-fold vengeance stopped his 
 career. Here are the facts : 
 
 Fisk fell hopelessly in love with a beautiful 
 American lady, to whom he became desperately 
 attached. Wondrous theatrical performances 
 were given in her honor ; parades of the famous
 
 THE THEATRES OF NEW YORK. 75 
 
 regiment, with the consequent stoppage of his 
 railway he set everything to work to carry his 
 point, and of course he succeeded. In accord- 
 ance with the immutable law of nature, the first 
 thing Fisk did was to introduce his friend Stokes 
 to his mistress. Since the days of King Candau- 
 lus, lovers have always been equally foolish. 
 Stokes had a goodly income; he was charmed 
 with the lady ; and Fisk became .... the hap- 
 piest of the three, until the day when he discov- 
 ered the treachery of his friend. 
 
 I cannot say whether his first impulse was or 
 not to seize his revolver ; but I do know that, on 
 second thought, he gave up this solution as insuf- 
 ficient ; he had imagined a better plan. With- 
 out manifesting in any way to his friend Stokes 
 the hatred he had conceived towards him, he pre- 
 tended, on the contrary, to have become more 
 attached to him than ever. He persuaded him 
 to take part with him in different speculations, 
 and to invest all his money in certain stocks 
 which he was " bulling " at the time ; then he 
 threw all his own shares upon the market, over- 
 stocked the market, and brought about a terrible
 
 76 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 fall, which completed the ruin of his good friend 
 Stokes. I presume that Fisk was so pleased with 
 the result of his little combination, that he had a 
 little conversation with Stokes, and explained to 
 him the why and wherefore of his ruin. Stokes, 
 who probably could not see the joke, swore on his 
 side to revenge himself. But as he had not the 
 cunning of his enemy, he had recourse to a more 
 vulgar and more expeditious means. He waited 
 one day for Fisk until he came out of the Grand 
 Central Hotel, where the aforesaid beautiful lady 
 resided, and quietly blew out his brains. 
 
 If Fisk had survived, no doubt he would 
 have had a fine drama written on this subject for 
 his theatre. 
 
 The last theatre which I visited was the Fifth 
 Avenue Theatre, a very handsome one, where a 
 heavy drama, Pique, was being performed. The 
 play was made up of situations stolen almost 
 everywhere, but is, of course, by Mr. Boucicault. 
 
 There are also two German and one French 
 theatre in New York ; they are open from time to 
 time, whenever they happen to find a manager. 
 
 But I must not close this chapter on Ameri-
 
 THE THEATRES OF NEW YORK. 77 
 
 can theatres without mentioning a little hall 
 where I heard the minstrels. 
 
 There all the actors are negroes; the chorus 
 consists of negroes ; the servants are negroes ; 
 cashier, manager, superintendent, men and 
 women, all black ! 
 
 On sighting the stage, I perceived a negro 
 orchestra, playing tunes more or less fantastic. 
 
 But great was my surprise on becoming 
 aware that I was the object of their special atten- 
 tion, and that they were pointing me out to one 
 another. I could not believe that I was known 
 to so many negroes; but, nevertheless, I must 
 confess I was delighted to find that such was the 
 case. 
 
 The performance was sufficiently comical to 
 induce me to remain to the end. What was 
 my astonishment on returning, after the first act, 
 to witness a renewal of the same manifestations 
 towards me that is to say, the musicians again 
 pointing me out to one another. This time they 
 were all white, as white as the bakers in the 
 Boulangere. I became prouder than ever; but, 
 alas ! there was deception in store for me. I was
 
 78 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 informed they were the same musicians, and that, 
 from the manager to the servants, they were 
 nothing but sham negroes, who alternately painted 
 and washed their faces three or four times 
 every evening, according to the requirements of 
 the performances.
 
 CHAPTER VI.' 
 
 ART IN AMERICA. 
 
 THE foreigner's attention is attracted by thou- 
 sands of admirable objects on his visit to the 
 United States. In America, more than anywhere 
 else, human intelligence and labor have worked 
 miracles. It would be superfluous to praise the 
 manufacturing industry, so thoroughly organized, 
 so powerfully assisted by machinery, the strength 
 and power of which astound the imagination. It 
 would be idle to call up the marvels accomplished 
 upon this land, virgin still scarce a hundred years 
 ago ; nor to speak of the vast network of railways 
 and telegraphs spreading its links farther and 
 farther every day ; and of the numerous other im- 
 provements which constantly tend to increase the 
 comforts of life. 
 
 But a sad thought occurs to disturb the travel- 
 ler's admiration, when he observes that the dis-
 
 80 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 tribution of forces is not equally balanced in 
 their employment, and that the progress, which 
 made the United States so great, was only 
 directed to one side : they have conquered the 
 material world, but have remained behind in the 
 acquisition of those qualities essential to spiritual 
 life. America is to-day like a giant of a hundred 
 cubits, endowed with every physical gift, but 
 lacking the one essential thing a soul. 
 
 Art is the soul of nations ; it expresses in word* 
 what the purest sentiments create. 
 
 My chapter on the theatres will already havo 
 suggested the thought that the dramatic art was 
 sadly neglected in the United States, and has 
 served to show its present deplorable condition. 
 
 Good actors, well trained companies, and 
 authors are only produced by stable institutions, 
 steady local work, and slowly acquired traditions. 
 But there is no permanent opera in New York, 
 no comic opera, nor even a theatre for operettes 
 which is sure to last for two consecutive years; 
 and there is no stage for classic or modern plays 
 which could offer sufficient guarantees of stability 
 to become a school ; for in America the stage lives
 
 ART IN AMERICA. 81 
 
 from hand to mouth. Manager and company are 
 nomadic, and the greater number of actors are 
 mere travellers borrowed from the Old World, 
 who arrive and depart with the season. 
 
 The same observation applies also to other 
 branches of art, and neither music, painting, nor 
 sculpture find in America a soil which favors 
 their development. You may assert that there 
 are painters and sculptors; I agree with yon, 
 and I know myself several of eminent talent : 
 Bierstadt, Hunt, Ball, Church, Vinnie Ream, 
 and many others. Where is the moor on which 
 no flower grows ? I see a few flowers, but I see 
 no garden ; and if there are good painters, still 
 there is no American school. 
 
 It is all-important for the glory of the United 
 States to remedy this great deficiency. A nation 
 of such magnitude must not lack one essential 
 quality which art alone could add to the 
 splendor and glory of their industrial power. 
 
 What are the best means of developing the 
 fine arts in the United States ? Were I called 
 upon to answer this question, I would say to the 
 
 Americans : 
 
 4*
 
 82 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 You possess all the necessary elements intel- 
 ligent and talented men ; and, as a proof that you 
 lack no capacity, I again refer to the artists' 
 names already mentioned, who have succeeded, 
 without means of culture, and under unfavor- 
 able circumstances, in producing masterpieces. 
 You have wealth and excellent amateur collec- 
 tions, which are justly celebrated. Employ these 
 elements, and you will command success. 
 
 If your principles forbid the State to aid this 
 reform by subsidies, then you must organize 
 yourselves. European States support only a few 
 leading theatres in their capitals, and the 
 theatres and museums in the smaller towns are 
 aided by the municipal authority. In our 
 country the city councils do much for the prog- 
 ress of art ; they provide not alone for theatres 
 and museums, but often give free admissions to 
 conservatories and academies, to young persons 
 who show a natural disposition for the fine arts. 
 You can easily imitate this example; if the 
 municipality cannot help you, you can establish 
 great societies and corresponding associations in 
 all the principal cities, for the protection of art.
 
 AET IN AMEEICA. 83 
 
 As the material means abound with you, you can 
 with their assistance accomplish the same that 
 government institutions do in Europe. 
 
 Your subsidies can help to establish theatres 
 and elevate dramatic art, procure permanent 
 managers, protected to a degree against bank- 
 ruptcy. Two operas and one literary stage 
 are needed : above all, a national conservatory, 
 where you can form talented scholars ; but you 
 must provide for them eminent teachers and pro- 
 fessors of distinction from Europe, and retain 
 them with you. When you have once permanent 
 theatres and a well-appointed conservatory, you 
 will have aided greatly the dramatic art and 
 American composers and authors. However, 
 you will not reap the fruits immediately. There 
 might elapse perhaps ten, twenty years, before 
 these institutions produce the excellent results 
 that may be expected of them. And what are 
 twenty years? In twenty years your students 
 may become masters ; you will be independent of 
 European art ; and ten years later the theatres of 
 the Old World may require your actors, as you 
 now require theirs.
 
 84: OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 And are the other branches of art not re- 
 quired in the same way ? You must establish 
 museums. Often have men discovered in them- 
 selves the creative qualities which God bestowed 
 upon them, or those faculties of assimilation 
 which frequently are equivalent to genius ; good 
 taste is formed and purified by the contempla- 
 tion of masterpieces. 
 
 You want likewise academies for painting and 
 sculpture, with professors chosen from our best 
 institutes. The masters will not consent to 
 leave their country; but the greatest painters 
 and the greatest sculptors are not what you need, 
 as those next them have all necessary qualities 
 for teaching ; and these you must invite. Don't 
 consider the cost, for then only can you found 
 an American school worthy to appear in the 
 records of art, by the side of the Italians, Dutch, 
 Spaniards, and Frenchmen. A hundred years 
 have sufficed to raise the United States to the 
 highest point of industrial splendor, and a nation 
 which has given such admirable proofs of energy, 
 activity, and perseverance, requires but a short 
 time to acquire a rank in the dominions of art.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RESTAURANTS THREE TYPES OF WAITERS. 
 
 THERE are many restaurants in New York and 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 At the Brunswick, which is French, the table 
 is very good ; at Delmonico's, which is Swiss, it 
 is not quite so good ; and at the Hoffman, which 
 is German, it is only tolerable. Other New York 
 restaurants are Morelli (Italian) and Frascati 
 (Spanish), where you can dine for one dollar. 
 I saw many other restaurants, enormously fre- 
 quented, but I could not vouch for their fare. 
 The Brunswick has an advantage over Delmoni- 
 co's : an immense hall, such as could not be found 
 in Paris. 
 
 Petry (French) and Finelli (Italian) are the 
 most popular establishments in Philadelphia, if I 
 leave out Verdier, who is there only for the time, 
 and whose dining-saloons are at the Exhibition, 
 two hours' distance from the city.
 
 88 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 As you see, there are in fact no restaurants 
 which can properly be called American. 
 
 The Americans keep the hotels, but the kitchen 
 seems entirely surrendered to foreigners. Noth- 
 ing is easier than to eat a meal in the French, 
 Italian, Spanish, or German style. Nothing is 
 more difficult for a stranger than to eat an 
 American dinner in America. 
 
 I had almost forgotten to mention the most 
 interesting of all restaurants the restaurant that 
 serves meals gratis ! 
 
 It would certainly never occur to one of our 
 French hotel-keepers to open a free table d'hote. 
 In spite of the Irishman's assertion, that it is 
 possible to get rich while losing on each article by 
 making it up on the quantity, neither Bignon, 
 nor Brebant, nor the Cafe* Biche have yet made 
 such an attempt ; and one must really go to a 
 progressive country in order to see such things. 
 
 At all events, several well-known New York 
 restaurants serve meals for nothing provided 
 you take a drink, even if it only cost ten cents. 
 On Sundays, when, thanks to the police, the 
 restaurants dare not sell drinks, it is all the
 
 RESTAURANTS THREE TYPES OF WAITERS. 87 
 
 better for the consumer. Lunch is served as 
 usual, and I can state this as a fact, having seen 
 it at the Brunswick myself ; and they say that 
 living is expensive in America. 
 
 And it must not be supposed that this gratui- 
 tous meal is composed of mere trifles. Here is 
 a bill of fare, copied on the spot : 
 
 Ham. 
 
 An enormous piece of roast-beef. 
 
 Fork and beans. 
 
 Potato salad. 
 
 Olives, pickles, etc. 
 
 Cheese. 
 
 Crackers. 
 
 Wholesome and abundant fare as may be 
 seen. The most substantial part is the roast- 
 beef, from which the guests are privileged to cut, 
 themselves, such slices as they like. 
 
 A large pile of plates stands on a sideboard, 
 convenient free lunch, together with forks and 
 knives, in abundance ; but the guests, as a rule, 
 prefer using their own fingers ; some going so far 
 as to help themselves by the handful out of the 
 salad-bowl. I shudder still, just to think of it I
 
 88 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 The- head- waiter, to whom I expressed my 
 horror and astonishment, tried his best to soothe 
 my feelings. 
 
 " This offends us less than it does you. Time 
 is money, you see ; and these gentlemen are in 
 such a hurry ! " 
 
 Waiters in hotels and restaurants are often 
 very peculiar types ! 
 
 For instance, as I have already mentioned 
 elsewhere, when you sit down at the table, a 
 waiter brings you a glass of ice-water ; you might 
 sit there for two hours in company with your ice- 
 water without anybody interfering with you. 
 
 You must call another waiter, who hands you 
 the bill-of-fare. Meantime you are dying of 
 thirst, and you want something else to drink be- 
 sides water. The waiter who took your order 
 goes leisurely for a third one, who brings you at 
 last the desired drink ; but you are mistaken if 
 you think yourself safe now : it is another waiter 
 who alone has the privilege of using the cork- 
 screw. At least such is the case at the Brunswick. 
 This annoying proceeding having occurred several 
 times, I declared at last that I would leave the
 
 EESTAUKANTS THREE TYPES OF WAITERS. 89 
 
 house if this farce was not dropped. When I 
 came to bi'eakfast the following morning, every 
 one of the twenty or thirty waiters of the res- 
 taurant were drawn up in line on my passage, 
 and every one gravely held a corkscrew in his 
 hand. Since then the service at the Brunswick 
 is considerably more prompt. 
 
 On the evening of my arrival in New York, 
 I dined with some friends in my room at the 
 Fifth Avenue Hotel. The soup had just been 
 served, when I fancied I hearct a sound like 
 whistling. I looked around in astonishment to 
 discover the bold individual. Of course, it was 
 not one of the guests ; it was the waiter. My 
 first impulse was to get up and kick him out; 
 but my friends, who had noticed the same extra- 
 ordinary phenomenon, beckoned me to keep 
 still. We continued our dinner. As to the 
 musician, though timid at first, he became gradu- 
 ally bolder, and soon ventured upon little trills, 
 finally essaying the most difficult pieces. At one 
 time, as if overcome by sudden melancholy, he 
 would indulge in the gloomiest of tunes ; then 
 suddenly, and without any apparent reason, the
 
 90 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 liveliest and merriest melodies burst forth from 
 his lips. 
 
 The dinner over, I called the waiter's attention 
 to the impropriety of which he had been guilty, 
 in giving us music at the table without having 
 been requested to do so. 
 
 " You see, sir, I love music, and I use it to 
 express my thoughts. If a dish is not to my 
 taste, I whistle melancholy airs ; when a dish 
 suits me, I whistle lively tunes. But when I 
 fairly worship a dish .... 
 
 " Like the frozen charlotte we had just now? " 
 I interrupted. 
 
 " Monsieur noticed it ? Oh ! then I whistle my 
 merriest tunes." 
 
 " And do you think that tune from the Grande 
 Duchesse you were whistling just now particu- 
 larly gay ? " 
 
 " Your music, sir, is always so funny ! " 
 
 I don't very much fancy hearing my music 
 whistled ; so I requested the steward in future 
 not to send me a whistling waiter.
 
 RESTAURANTS THREE TY^ES OF WAITERS. 91 
 
 Second Sketch of a Waiter. 
 
 This is rather curious too. 
 
 It was in Philadelphia I had the pleasure of 
 meeting the fellow. It was half-past nine in the 
 evening when we arrived in that city, and we 
 were, my friends and myself, literally starved. 
 Having inquired for a good restaurant, we were 
 directed to Petry's ; so to Petry's we went, and 
 here we are at the table. 
 
 Waiter ! " 
 
 "Well, sir?" 
 
 " Give us first a good Julienne soup." 
 
 The waiter makes a wry face. 
 
 " I should not recommend it to you, sir ; the 
 vegetables here are so very tough." 
 
 u Well, never mind the soup ; have you any 
 salmon ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, sir, we have salmon, of course, and 
 we have had it a good long time too ; possibly it 
 may not be as fresh as you might wish." 
 
 " How then about a Chateaubriand, nice and 
 rare ? " 
 
 " The cook don't know how to get them up, sir."
 
 92 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 " Strawberries ? " 
 
 " They are not fit to eat, sir." 
 
 "And the cheese?" 
 
 "I'll ask it to come up, sir; it is quite able 
 to walk by itself." 
 
 " I say, waiter, you will never make your 
 master's fortune." 
 
 " My first duty, sir, is to please my customers." 
 
 " If I was Mr. Petry I would soon discharge 
 you." 
 
 " Mr. Petry did not wait for your advice, sir. 
 You see me here to-night for the last time." 
 
 Whereupon he bowed to us in his best style ; 
 after which we had an excellent supper. 
 
 Waiter Number Three. 
 
 Delmonico's waiters' style deserves a special 
 mention. 
 
 We were invited one evening, by a theatrical 
 manager, to a supper, in company with the lead- 
 ing actors of his theatre. The supper was ex- 
 cellent. Like all other good things, it came to 
 an end. The time for a smoke and a chat hav- 
 ing come, we remained in our parlor, smoking
 
 RESTAURANTS THREE TYPES OF WAITERS. 93 
 
 and sipping iced drinks. There was then no 
 further necessity for the presence of a servant ; 
 nevertheless I noticed, not without astonish- 
 ment, our waiter returning very often, and lis- 
 tening to our conversation. As I was not the 
 host, I thought it best to say nothing. As to 
 the other guests, none seemed to have noticed 
 this strange proceeding. 
 
 When about to part, I took occasion to in- 
 vite the manager and his artists to a supper 
 in the same restaurant. 
 
 Supper over, the same occurrence took place. 
 This time I observed the waiter more attentive- 
 ly, and I noticed that he went all around the 
 table, examining closely every one of the guests. 
 He went away after that, but returned within a 
 few minutes and renewed his examination and 
 his perambulations. 
 
 " Waiter, you have come several times with- 
 out being called; let this be the last, please." 
 
 " Sorry, sir," he answered ; " but we have 
 orders from Mr. Delmonico to walk every five 
 mimites into every parlor and private room." 
 
 " Is Mr. Delmonico connected with the po-
 
 94 OFFENBACH IN AMEKICA. 
 
 lice, then, that he sends you to listen to what 
 his guests say?" 
 
 " Don't know, sir. Sure Mr. Delmonico 
 would dismiss me if his instructions were not 
 strictly obeyed." 
 
 " Is Mr. Delmonico afraid we are going to 
 carry off his napkins and spoons ; does he think 
 we are likely to forget for a moment that a 
 decent behavior is de rigueur in his famous res- 
 taurant ? I am sorry to tell you, my friend ; 
 it is now half -past one, and we intend remain- 
 ing here till seven ; you will, therefore, have 
 to repeat your visit sixty-six times more if you 
 follow your instructions." 
 
 " I'll do it, sir." 
 
 I need not say that, after thus giving vent to 
 our indignation, we did not carry out our threat. 
 We left a little late (it was nearly two o'clock), 
 vowing never to be caught again in this way. 
 
 New Yorkers, who don't care to have the 
 whole town know in the morning how they spent 
 the previous evening, will do well to keep an 
 eye on those waiters who obey Mr. Delmonico's 
 orders so punctually.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AMERICAN WOMEN INTRODUCTIONS CENTRAL PARK. 
 
 LADIES, and even young girls, enjoy here the 
 greatest freedom. I have an idea that when 
 Lafayette went to America to fight for Liberty, 
 he only had the ladies in view, for they alone are 
 really free in free America. 
 
 My friends Meilhac and Ilalevy, in the Vie 
 JParisienne, assert that Parisian ladies alone 
 possess the art of walking on the street; but they 
 had not seen American women going, coming, 
 getting out of the way of carriages, picking up 
 their skirts with an elegant gesture, and revealing 
 the most exquisite ankles with the most consum- 
 mate skill. 
 
 It must be confessed that there are perhaps 
 no women so fascinating as American women. 
 In the first place, they are handsome in a propor- 
 tion wholly unknown in Paris. Out of every him-
 
 96 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 dred you meet, there are ninety who are lovely. 
 Moreover, they know how to dress ; their toilets 
 are of the most exquisite and perfect taste. They 
 look as if they had all just come from Worth's. 
 
 One thing alone I shall venture to criticise on 
 their dress ; that is, the little pocket, located just 
 above the knee, where, in olden times, the ladies 
 hung their purse. This pocket is exclusively 
 devoted to the handkerchief. "When, from a dis- 
 tance, a bit of white linen is seen issuing from 
 this aperture, one is apt to wonder whether an 
 accident has befallen the lady, and whether it is 
 not a certain nameless garment which is thus 
 revealed through a rent in the skirt. 
 
 All the American ladies you meet hold their 
 purses tightly in their hands, lest some pick- 
 pocket of which there are perhaps as many in 
 New York as in Paris should be tempted to 
 thrust a profane hand in their pocket. Shocking! 
 In the afternoon young girls may be seen alone 
 visiting the first-class restaurants and taking their 
 lunch as quietly as an old European bachelor. 
 Others are seen on some corner of Fifth Avenue, 
 or elsewhere, waiting for their carriages, to which
 
 AMERICAN WOMEN CENTRAL PARK. 97 
 
 they have given orders to meet them, and drive 
 to Central Park. 
 
 A strange fact for the depraved Parisian who 
 is fond of following pretty women on the street, 
 is that no one in New York or in any other city 
 of the United States would venture to take up his 
 line of march behind a youthful Yankee maiden, 
 and still less to speak to her, even to offer her an 
 umbrella. 
 
 In order to be able to offer her this object, 
 with or without your heart, you must be pre- 
 sented, or introduced, as they say. But do not 
 imagine that the formalities of an introduc- 
 tion are either very formidable or very diffi- 
 cult to accomplish. In the absence of a com- 
 mon friend, a simple " Personal " in the Herald 
 will answer. 
 
 I spoke of the Central Park just now. It 
 is the favorite drive of the most elegant soci- 
 ety ; but it does not in any way resemble our 
 Bois de Bologue. Imagine a great rocky plain, 
 skillfully concealed beneath well-kept lawns, a 
 few groves of fine trees, one or two little lakes, 
 
 and magnificent drives ; such is the New York 
 5
 
 98 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 Bois. Every day a procession of carriages 
 may be seen there more numerous than on an 
 Italian corso. American carriage manufactur- 
 ers seem particularly bent upon inventing the 
 most fantastic vehicles, all of which belong in a 
 degree, more or less remote, to two leading 
 styles : the first, which is enormously heavy, is 
 a kind of landau of the Middle Ages, a mas- 
 sive coach, a monster berline, which, it is true, 
 is capable of accommodating many people quite 
 comfortably. But the aspect of these houses 
 on wheels remains always horrible. A large 
 window behind, with an ever-dangling curtain, 
 makes it higher still. The other style, on the 
 contrary, is of extreme lightness. It consists 
 of a diminutive box, with or without top, 
 seating one or two persons at most, and mount- 
 ed on four great wheels, so thin and so slen- 
 der that they impart to the carriage the ap- 
 pearance of a huge spider. These buggies, as 
 they are called, have sometimes their tops 
 raised ; but as this is open on all sides, they 
 always look as if they were in rags. It is not 
 rare to see young ladies of the highest classes
 
 AMERICAN WOMEN CENTRAL PARK. 99 
 
 driving alone one of these light vehicles drawn 
 by two powerful horses. 
 
 The first time I visited Central Park it 
 was in company with a gentleman well known 
 in New York, and at almost every step he met 
 some friend. I noticed that he bowed very 
 low to some, while to others he scarcely touched 
 the brim of his hat. I asked him what it 
 meant. He replied, quite seriously : " The gen- 
 tleman to whom I have just bowed so respect- 
 fully belongs to the best New York society, 
 and is worth a million of dollars. The one 
 coming now is only worth a hundred thou- 
 sand, and so he does not stand as well as the 
 former one; I treat him, therefore, with less 
 ceremony." 
 
 These are shades which are observed in Am- 
 erica, where there is no aristocracy save that 
 of labor and of the dollar.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE STOEY OF TWO STATUES. 
 
 EVER generous France said to herself, one fine 
 morning : " What can I do to be agreeable to 
 America ? " Then the idea occurred to her that 
 it might be well to remind the New World that 
 Lafayette had not been wholly a stranger in the 
 establishment of its liberties. 
 
 At once a telegram was sent by the sub-marine 
 cable to President Grant. 
 
 This dispatch was very brief, as every word 
 costs seventy-five cents (gold). It read thus : 
 
 " Grant, President ; Whitehouse, Washington : 
 Wish to please you much. Want to build 
 statue Lafayette for your beautiful country. 
 What think you ? Reply prepaid." 
 
 The answer came promptly. 
 
 Here is a copy of it, as communicated to me : 
 
 " Wish to please you much. See no objection
 
 THE STORY OF TWO STATUES. 101 
 
 to proposition. Go on, build statue Lafayette ; 
 forward well packed, and free of charges. Grate- 
 ful America." 
 
 This occurred when M. Thiers was President. 
 An appropriation was at once voted, and one of 
 our most skillful sculptors, M. Bartholdi, was 
 commissioned to place himself at once in com- 
 munication with Lafayette. Three months later 
 the statue was finished, and delivered to the Min- 
 ister. 
 
 For a whole year nothing more was heard of it. 
 
 Some Frenchmen, residing in the United States, 
 becoming anxious on the subject, requested a 
 merchant who was going to Europe on business 
 to ascertain the whereabouts of the statue. 
 
 The merchant promptly called on M. Thiers, 
 not being aware that M. Thiers was no longer in 
 office. 
 
 "You must go to my successor," said M. 
 Thiers. 
 
 The merchant then called on the President, 
 who granted him an interview, and gave him this 
 piece of advice: "Apply at the proper depart- 
 ment."
 
 102 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 Having discovered the proper department, the 
 gentleman is kindly received, and is told : " Ap- 
 ply to the Director of the Fine Arts." 
 
 The Director is fortunately at home. 
 
 The merchant is thereupon shown to his pri- 
 vate office, and the following conversation takes 
 place : 
 
 "I wish to find out something about La- 
 fayette's statue." 
 
 " Wait a minute. My chief clerk will proba- 
 bly be able to tell you; as to myself, I have 
 only been here a few days." 
 
 The chief clerk is sent for. 
 
 "Do you know anything of a statue of La- 
 fayette?" 
 
 " It is packed away in the cellar," he replies, 
 gravely. 
 
 " Then, sir, will you please order it brought 
 up, and shipped immediately, freight prepaid, to 
 the United States 3 " 
 
 But I have no orders from the Minister, sir ! 
 Even if I had, I have no funds available for this 
 shipment." 
 
 " The statue cannot forever remain in the eel-
 
 THE STORY OF TWO STATUES. 103 
 
 lar. France has promised it to America. Amer- 
 ica impatiently awaits it." 
 
 " I do not wish to hinder you from taking it 
 away, sir ; I'll say more : I fully authorize you 
 to do so." 
 
 Our merchant was determined not to return 
 without his Lafayette. Besides he had his own 
 idea, and proceeded to carry it out. He found 
 the Btatue, and had it shipped at once to New 
 York, consigned to the French Consul-General. 
 
 Shortly after, having himself returned to JSTew 
 York, he promptly called on our Consul-General, 
 when the following conversation took place : 
 
 " Well, Mr. Consul-General, I have just re- 
 turned from France." 
 
 " Welcome, sir." 
 
 " I have brought it with me." 
 
 " Brought what ? " 
 
 " The statue." 
 
 "What statue?" 
 
 " The statue of Lafayette." 
 
 " Glad to hear it," replies the Consul. 
 
 " I had it shipped in bond." 
 
 " All right, sir."
 
 104 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 " And consigned to you." 
 
 " To me ? What for, pray \ " 
 
 " Because it's you who will have to pay the 
 freight and duties." 
 
 " Freight ? I ? The Government has given me 
 no orders to that effect." 
 
 " Come, now, Mr. Consul-General, it is only a 
 trifling matter of a few thousand francs." 
 
 O 
 
 Of course, the Consul could not be persuaded. 
 Fortunately for our traveller and his statue, a 
 French committee had been formed in America, 
 and had the funds ready for delivering the un- 
 fortunate Lafayette from the clutches of the 
 custom-house. The most curious part of the 
 story, however, is, that the redeemed Lafayette 
 has made no further progress since, and, at the 
 moment of this writing, no suitable place has yet 
 been found whereon to erect it. 
 
 France, growing more and more generous, said 
 to herself one fine morning : " What could 1 do 
 to be agreeable to America on the occasion of 
 her Centennial ? Suppose I present her with a 
 statue ? " 
 
 All right for a statue, then. A subscription
 
 THE STOKY OF TWO STATUES. 105 
 
 was opened ; Frenchmen and Americans both 
 contributed, and it was unanimously resolved 
 that the statue should represent Liberty enlight- 
 ening the World. M. Bartholdi above men- 
 tioned was commissioned to carrry out the work. 
 This new statue was not subjected to all the mis- 
 haps of its predecessor, Lafayette ; it was finished 
 without troiible, and the sculptor then went over 
 to select a proper site for his Liberty enlighten- 
 ing the World. 
 
 A parenthesis : I don't exactly understand the 
 choice of this subject. The New "World is said 
 to possess all the liberties, and consequently needs 
 no further enlightening. 
 
 I close the parenthesis. 
 
 After long examination, M. Bartholdi found at 
 last the desired spot : a magnificent position ; a 
 natural pedestal rising from the waters in short, 
 Bedloe's Island. 
 
 " Here it shall stand I " he exclaimed. 
 
 He loses no time, hires workmen, and takes 
 them to the island to dig the foundations. While 
 his men were wooing, the artist was contem- 
 plating with emotion the rapidly deepening 
 5*
 
 106 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 excavation, beholding in his imagination, and 
 already standing there, the magnificent monu- 
 ment with which his name was to be eternally 
 connected. Suddenly Ire felt a hand touching 
 him on the shoulder. 
 
 The sculptor looks around, and finds himself 
 in presence of a policeman. 
 
 " What are you doing there ? " the policeman 
 graciously asks. 
 
 " I am digging the foundations for Liberty 
 enlightening the World." 
 
 "And who has given you permission to dig 
 this hole ? " 
 
 " Why, it is " 
 
 " You don't know who? " 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, it is America herself ! 
 America who has given me an order for a statue, 
 and I was looking for a suitable spot for the erec- 
 tion of the monument ; this one is excellent." 
 
 " This is all very interesting ; but notwith- 
 standing all the liberty that prevails in America, 
 you must learn, sir, that you have no right to dig 
 such a formidable hole without permission ; you 
 will please, therefore, follow me to the Mayor."
 
 THE STORY OF TWO STATUES. 107 
 
 The laborers, who had stopped work at the 
 sight of the policeman, had already put on their 
 coats, and were about leaving the ground. 
 
 " Don't go," shouted the sculptor, in despair ; 
 " I shall be back with the authorization in five 
 minutes." 
 
 Five minutes ! 
 
 The artist had not foreseen one thing, nay, 
 several things. 
 
 To build on public property without permis- 
 sion is as much an impossibility in the United 
 States as anywhere else. 
 
 The Mayor could not take the responsibility 
 upon himself; so he convoked the municipal 
 council. The latter thought the subject too 
 important to be decided without consulting the 
 Governor. The Governor could do nothing 
 without consulting the President of the Repub- 
 lic; the latter could only carry out the deci- 
 sions of the House of Representatives, which 
 must themselves be approved by the Senate. 
 
 Why not do for Liberty enlightening the 
 World what was done for the quarantine? 
 Build an island on piles! Here is an idea
 
 108 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 worthy of the monument. But let the con- 
 struction be secure, for in case a heavy storm 
 should arise, Bartholdi's island might be set 
 adrift. Who knows where chance might lead 
 it ? To the French coast, perhaps, or to Paris, 
 which, in the meantime, might have become a 
 seaport 2 * 
 
 * The accounts of the inauguration of the two statues, 
 recently published in the newspapers, make it unnecessary 
 for the reader to imagine a conclusion to the maestro's hu- 
 morous chapter. French Pub.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LIBERTY IN AMERICA. 
 
 AMERICA is indeed the land of liberty! 
 
 If you cannot dig a hole without disturbing 
 the whole government hierarchy, you may, how- 
 ever, go where you like, marry whom you please, 
 and eat what you fancy. 
 
 There is, however, one melancholy restriction 
 to all this superabundant liberty ; you cannot 
 drink what you please every day in the week. 
 
 One Sunday, after leading my orchestra with 
 considerable spirit, under a tropical heat, I 
 rushed into a bar for a glass of beer. 
 
 The proprietor of the establishment answered 
 with a woful look : 
 
 " Impossible, sir ; I have no waiters." 
 
 "What! no waiters? And what have you 
 done with them all ? " 
 
 "Every one of them has been arrested for
 
 110 OFFENBACH IN AMEEICA.. 
 
 having insisted upon serving drinks to our cus- 
 tomers against the legal prohibition." 
 
 " Is it forbidden to drink on Sunday ? " 
 
 "Strictly forbidden, sir." 
 
 " I am going to see about that." 
 
 I run to the Brunswick and order boldly: 
 
 " A sherry cobbler ! " 
 
 " I am sorry, sir, to be obliged to disappoint 
 you ; the bar is closed, and all my waiters 
 have been arrested." 
 
 "But I am dying with thirst." 
 
 "The only thing we can give you, sir, is a 
 glass of soda." 
 
 Such was, indeed, the state of things in New 
 York. Three hundred waiters had been ar- 
 rested on that Sunday for carrying refresh- 
 ments to customers. The customers who called 
 for the drinks may consider themselves lucky 
 enough that they were not arrested themselves. 
 
 What a singular liberty ! 
 
 Nor has anybody the right to hang himself 
 in America. 
 
 A drunkard tries to hang himself, but fails, 
 and is brought back to life after a few hours.
 
 LIBERTY IN AMERICA. Ill 
 
 When he has recovered his senses he is taken 
 before the judge, who sentences him to six 
 months' imprisonment. Usually it is only three 
 months, but in this case it was an old offender, 
 who had tried it once before. The third time 
 he will be condemned to death. In order to 
 take one's own life the previous authorization 
 of the Governor is required. 
 
 Negro emancipation is another grand reform I 
 The dear negroes are free, perfectly free ; let me 
 tell you how. 
 
 They cannot enter either the cars or any other 
 public conveyances ; on no account do the theatres 
 admit them ; and if they are received in the 
 restaurants, it is only to wait on the white guests. 
 This is an illustration of Liberty, Equality, and 
 Fraternity. 
 
 You think, perhaps, that only negroes are 
 deprived of certain liberties; you are mis- 
 taken. 
 
 The proprietor of the Cataract Hotel, at Nia- 
 gara Falls, had the following advertisement 
 inserted in the principal daily papers : 
 
 " Being a citizen of a perfectly free country,
 
 112 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 and having the right to do as I please in my own 
 house, I have decided : 
 
 " First and only Article ' From and after 
 this day, Jews will be excluded from this 
 hotel.' " 
 
 It may be interesting to add that after a lapse 
 of two years this liberal hotel-keeper was com- 
 pelled to give up his establishment for want of 
 business. 
 
 The first Sunday I was at leisure after my 
 arrival in Philadelphia, I proposed making a 
 visit to the Exhibition. I found it closed. The 
 exhibitors were restrained from showing their 
 products on Sunday. 
 
 I thought of going to the theatre in the even- 
 ing. Closed too. And the concerts also, just 
 the same as in New York. 
 
 Sunday is the only day the working man can 
 call his own. He might avail himself of his few 
 hours of rest for his instruction and recreation, 
 or to improve himself in his calling by the con- 
 templation of the admirable industrial produc- 
 tions which the foremost manufacturers of both 
 hemispheres exhibit here! The exhibition is
 
 LIBEKTY IN AMERICA. 113 
 
 closed for him. Again, he might seek to refresh 
 his mind by witnessing some play in a good 
 theatre. Yet on this day everything is closed : 
 exhibition, theatres, concerts. If there is any 
 one worthy of respect, it is a working man. 
 After his week's toil he needs one day of mental 
 recreation. He may take his family out, but he 
 cannot enjoy with them the refreshment even of 
 a glass of beer. And what is the consequence ? 
 "While his wife and children go to church or take 
 a walk, he stops at home and takes to whiskey. 
 
 While almost unrestricted liberty is given to 
 industry, invention, and manufactures, the results 
 prove often somewhat inconvenient. If an 
 American conceives an idea, he proceeds at 
 once to carry it out. See, for instance, the rapid 
 development of the cars which have in such a 
 short time driven out the omnibuses. Just now 
 the cars are all the fashion ; they are everywhere, 
 and as the streets can only afford space for a 
 limited number, one inventor has imagined to 
 construct elevated railways, and has already 
 commenced the execution of his project. Here is 
 an incident connected with this :
 
 114 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 A lady who had jnst purchased a charming 
 little residence on Broadway, left for the country 
 immediately after, and returned after five or six 
 months to take up her quarters in the new house. 
 Having arrived late at night, she slept soundly. 
 The next morning, a sound like that of thunder, 
 and shrill whistles, suddenly awake her. She 
 runs to the window : 
 
 " Belle sans ornement, dans le simple appareil, 
 D'une beaute qu'on vient, cTarracher au sommeil." 
 
 She beholds a passing train, with passengers 
 gazing curiously out of every window. She 
 faints. 
 
 When she recovered her senses, her first thought, 
 even before closing the window, was to send for 
 a lawyer, and commence a suit for damages 
 against the new company. The house, which had 
 cost her two hundred thousand dollars, was now 
 only worth one quarter of that sum ; but she had 
 the privilege of selling it again. 
 
 There is one day in the year when the Ameri- 
 cans are allowed absolutely unrestricted liberty, 
 the Fourth of July, the anniversary of the
 
 LIBERTY EST AMERICA. ] 15 
 
 national independence. Everything is permitted 
 on this day, and Heaven knows what use and 
 abuse are made of this license! I have pre- 
 served a number of the Courrier des Etats- Unis, 
 which gives some curious incidents of that me- 
 morable day. 
 
 Leaving aside many accidents of minor in- 
 terest, I will confine myself to the more serious 
 casualties. The article is headed : The Reverse 
 of the Medal. 
 
 " Our first accounts of the casualties and acci- 
 dents occurring in New York were very incom- 
 plete. 
 
 "A young girl of nineteen, Mary Henley, 
 residing at No. 261 Sixteenth street, was walking 
 with two of her friends on the Eighth Avenue. 
 Near twenty-second street, fire-crackers were 
 thrown at the girls, in celebration of the glorious 
 day. They paid no attention to it, however, 
 and it was only when they had reached the next 
 block that Mary Henley felt herself burning, 
 and her dress on fire. Terror-stricken, she started 
 running, her clothes ablaze from her head to her 
 feet. The efforts of several men were required
 
 116 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 to hold her, so agonizing were her pains. The 
 flames were extinguished, but it was too late. 
 Mary Henley was injured beyond possibility of 
 recovery. During the pyrotechnical exhibition 
 in the City Hall Park, a bomb exploded in the 
 midst of a group of spectators : there were five 
 wounded, three of whom are in a dangerous con- 
 dition. 
 
 " Finally, we have before us a list of forty-nine 
 persons, mostly children, wounded during the 
 day or night on the Fourth of July. Some have 
 lost an eye, others a hand ; some have had a leg 
 or a rib broken ; others the face or other parts of 
 their body badly burned. A few have injured 
 themselves in handling fire-arms, throwing crack- 
 ers, and falling from roofs and windows. But 
 nine-tenths at least ascribe their wounds to pistol- 
 balls fired by 'unknown persons.' It would 
 only be charitable to believe that these 'un- 
 known persons ' were simply awkward fellows. 
 
 "These disastrous occurrences are not confined 
 to the city of New York ; every large city in the 
 United States suffers from them. 
 
 " The celebration of the Centennial in "Wash-
 
 LIBERTY IN AMERICA. 117 
 
 iugton ' was very quiet.' What would have hap- 
 pened had it been more brilliant ? 
 
 " The rowdy element was very noisy, and four 
 assassinations were committed by drunkards be- 
 fore nightfall. 
 
 "Many people visited Washington's tomb at 
 Mount Vernon ; unfortunately, even this sacred 
 spot was not free from riot and bloodshed. Sev- 
 eral drunken men had a fight with knives. No 
 arrests were made." 
 
 In Philadelphia now : 
 
 " The Fourth of July was most disastrous for 
 Philadelphia. Besides the conflagration men- 
 tioned in another column, which resulted in the 
 death of four persons, this city suffered a ruinous 
 fire, caused by the foolish recklessness with which 
 fire-arms are handled. Boys were firing a can- 
 non near the lumber-yard of Collins & Co., at 
 the foot of Laurel street. A burning piece of 
 wad fell on some shingles, and set fire to 
 them. 
 
 " Thus began a fire that destroyed property to 
 the amount of $250,000, and reduced to ashes 
 the whole square situated between the river
 
 118 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 bank and the east side of Delaware Avenue and 
 Laurel and Shackamaxon streets. 
 
 " Every cannon shot may be estimated, on an 
 average, to have caused a similar loss, the most 
 of which falls upon the insurance companies." 
 
 These few extracts will give an idea of the 
 number of accidents, fires, and deaths occurring 
 on the Fourth of July in the United States. 
 
 As to myself, I am free to confess that these 
 excesses increase greatly my respect for our 
 effete governments, which forbid squarely all lib- 
 erties that endanger the lives of citizens, and 
 which afford us the protection of our brave gens- 
 d'armes. I have seen unlimited liberty. Thank 
 you ! I prefer our sergents-de-ville. 
 
 Conclusion : 
 
 " The centenary of our independence has been 
 brilliantly celebrated in Detroit," says the Free 
 Press, of that city ; " every citizen has had his 
 share of it. We will mention, as an instance, 
 the doings of one family only one of the most 
 respected of the State. 
 
 " At six o'clock in the morning, as the head of 
 the family was trying to fasten a flag to the
 
 LIBERTY IN AMERICA. 119 
 
 second story window of his house, he fell into 
 the street. He had the misfortune to smash 
 three flower-pots and one of his own ribs. This 
 incident proved the beginning of indescribable 
 disorders. Amid cheers in honor of Indepen- 
 dence Day, the neighbors poured lemonade and 
 cognac down his throat; the physicians had a 
 fight about who should take care of him ; Mrs. 
 Hamerlin tumbled down the whole length of the 
 back stairs, in her haste to reach the kitchen, 
 where Johnny was exploding crackers in the 
 oven. She arrived all safe, only her cheers for 
 the Fourth of July had to be discontinued until 
 she had recovered her breath. The father and 
 mother being used up, the young Hamerlins 
 proceeded to make the best of it. 
 
 " Johnny, greatly disappointed at being unable 
 to fire his crackers in the oven, took half a dozen 
 of them at once in his hands and mouth: off 
 they go, and as a consequence, poor Johnny's 
 mouth will stay shut for a long time. 
 
 " The youngest ignited a train of gunpowder 
 and scorched his hands. He went out and got 
 wounded in the leg.
 
 120 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 " The girl got a torpedo in the right ear, and a 
 stray bullet missed the left ear. 
 
 " In a month from now the whole family shall 
 have recovered, and in the meantime Mr. Ham- 
 erlin would not take ten thousand dollars for his 
 Fourth of July fun."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SOCIETIES AND PKOCESSIONS. 
 
 THE Americans have a passion for forming 
 associations, with and without purposes ; any 
 pretext is sufficient. The names of all their 
 corporations would fill a volume; the largest 
 are : the Temperance Society, the Free-Masons, 
 the Old-Fellows, the Grand Army of the Repub- 
 lic, etc., etc. 
 
 These corporations get up processions for any 
 manifestation they wish to make. Omnibuses, 
 cars, carriages, pedestrians, everything and every- 
 body must stop before their triumphant passage, 
 and they absorb all public attention and curi- 
 osity. 
 
 Honorary symbols, decorations, ribbons of all 
 colors, and sashes with the most brilliant em- 
 broideries (even plumes are to be seen) play the 
 
 principal part. The Americans like it much, as 
 6
 
 122 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 they can get no Government decorations. In 
 this way some regiments have decorated each 
 other during the civil war. 
 
 They have much military music; but what 
 music ! My nerves shudder yet ! 
 
 I saw a procession in Philadelphia. Stand- 
 ards, banners, decorations, carriages, for all the 
 world like the grand march in a fairy play. 
 
 One of the bands was made up of at least 
 twelve musicians, who were teazing a lot of cor- 
 net a pistons and trombones, marching two by 
 two, the leader in the centre playing the clario- 
 net. Behind him came the triangle and kettle- 
 drum. 
 
 What amused me most was to notice the fellow 
 who carried the bass drum, and who, while vigor- 
 ously pounding his instrument, made every effort 
 to maintain it in a horizontal position, in order 
 that every one might have full view of a drug- 
 gist's advertisement, spread out in fine black 
 letters over the sheepskin.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ADVERTISING AND PUFFING. 
 
 THE sign on that bass drum leads me to say a 
 word of the system of advertising prevailing in 
 the United States. 
 
 It is well known that Americans are fond of 
 advertisements ; but it is necessary to travel all 
 over their country, to visit their large cities, their 
 smallest towns, and even the wildest sites, in 
 order to realize to what extent they carry their 
 passion. 
 
 I once met in New York two young men 
 walking arm in arm, and on their back was 
 pinned a large placard, 
 
 GREAT SALE OF SEWING MACHINES, 
 No. 1000 BKOADWAY. 
 
 Was it a " sell ? " Were these gentlemen 
 really travelling for some house? I rather in-
 
 124 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 cline towards the latter hypothesis at any rate, 
 everybody turned around, laughed, and looked at 
 the sign. 
 
 The object was accomplished. Advertisements 
 are to be found everywhere, and of every possible 
 style. Not a flag hanging out of a window but is 
 disfigured with a sign. Streets are here and 
 there crossed by triumphal arches, the only object 
 of which is to give notice of forthcoming sales. 
 The walls are papered with bills of enormous 
 size; mustard manufacturers have their name 
 and address engraved on the very pavements. 
 Cards and circulars are showered in the cars and 
 omnibuses, and numberless hand-bills hang in- 
 side. 
 
 Sozodont ! there is a word I have seen every- 
 where, and of the meaning of which I am still 
 ignorant. It must certainly be an advertisement. 
 An American would have inquired what it 
 meant. But, like a true Frenchman, I did not 
 feel sufficient interest in the matter to do so. 
 
 However, while travelling in the cars, I caught 
 sight of the following words on a telegraph pole : 
 Only Cure for Rheumatism. Neither more nor
 
 ADVERTISING AND PUFFING. 125 
 
 less ! Was it because I know so many people 
 afflicted with that disease, or was it on account of 
 the novelty of the advertisement, I know not, but 
 I began, in spite of myself, to watch the tele- 
 graph poles. A mile further, I saw it again, but 
 still without any address ; further on, the same 
 thing, and so on for some ten miles. On the 
 eleventh I read, to my great delight, the name 
 and address of the advertiser; I came very near 
 purchasing some of his drug as I left the train. 
 The American advertiser plays upon the human 
 brain as a musician does on his piano. 
 
 At night, gas, electric light, petroleum, and 
 even magic lanterns are utilized as a means of 
 advertising. Men walk about, inside pasteboard 
 cages lighted inside, and bearing suggestive in- 
 scriptions on each of their four faces. 
 
 A poor horse falls from fatigue after 
 dragging fifty passengers all day long; at once 
 a boy springs forward and sticks a bill on his 
 nose: 
 
 GARGLING OIL. 
 
 GOOD FOR MAN AND BEAST.
 
 126 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 I found the same advertisement on an almost 
 inaccessible point at Niagara Falls. 
 
 This passion for advertisements has been fairly 
 carried beyond the limits of probability. Here 
 is one we find in the newspapers on the subject of 
 a concert at Gilmore's, on the 9th of July : 
 
 GRAND SACRED CONCERT 
 
 IN HONOR OF 
 THE EMPEROR OF BRAZIL, 
 
 And last appearance in public of His Majesty Dom Pedro 
 previous to his departure for Europe. 
 
 The words EMPEROR OF BRAZIL are made very 
 prominent, just as if it were the name of a famous 
 prima donna or a star tragedian. 
 
 Imagine, for a moment, the manager stepping 
 before the public and saying : " The Emperor of 
 Brazil, suffering from sudden indisposition, re- 
 quests your indulgence and relies upon your 
 patience." 
 
 Or else : 
 
 " The Emperor of Brazil, taken with a sudden
 
 ADVERTISING AND PUFFING. 127 
 
 sore throat, begs your pardon, if he cannot appear 
 for the last time this evening," as advertised. 
 
 The people would be absolutely entitled to de- 
 mand their money back.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE TUKF JEKOME PARK. 
 
 I WENT to the races at Jerome Park. 
 
 The grounds are a continuation of Central 
 Park, which I have already described, and belong 
 to a wealthy banker, Mr. Belmont. 
 
 The reader must not expect me to speak of the 
 sport with the wit and savoir-faire of my friend 
 Milton, of the Figaro / in fact, I hardly know 
 what a starter is. I can only say that I saw in 
 Jerome Park, around a somewhat muddy track, 
 what may be seen on any other race-course. 
 Many horses, many jockeys, many ladies, and 
 many gentlemen. If the horses seemed to me 
 rather large, the jockeys appeared somewhat too 
 lean ; but I am not sure. The only thing I can 
 positively assert is that here, as everywhere else, 
 there are always a horse and a jockey who get in 
 first, consequently there are winners who rejoice
 
 THE TURF JEROME PAKE. 129 
 
 and losers who grumble. There is betting, as 
 elsewhere. 
 
 The public seemed rather lacking in enthusi- 
 asm. In France and in England the finish always 
 draws forth cries, shouts, cheers, hurrahs. 
 
 For a few seconds every one seems carried away 
 by the excitement of rapid motion, the charm of 
 the spectacle or the expectations of gambling. 
 
 Even veteran sportsmen cannot see the decisive 
 moment approaching without manifesting their 
 interest in the struggle in some way, and gene- 
 rally in the most noisy manner. Here, not a 
 sound at the start, and at the finish a mere buzz, 
 at once repressed and followed by impassive 
 silence. 
 
 The noise, the bravos, the cheers, which impart 
 such life and animation to Longchamps and Chan- 
 tilly are wholly wanting in Jerome Park. 
 
 As my attention was not entirely occupied by 
 the races, 1 had ample time to look around me, 
 and I happened to witness a curious and charac- 
 teristic scene : 
 
 In the interval between two races a gentleman 
 
 was quietly walking up and down on the track, 
 6*
 
 130 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 when a thin streak of bluish smoke is suddenly 
 seen arising from his coat-pocket, then growing 
 thicker and becoming at last a dense cloud. The 
 gentleman had an incipient conflagration in his 
 pocket, and the flames now became visible. 
 
 " You are on fire 1 " every one was shouting. He 
 must certainly have felt it by this time, for the 
 flames were already scorching his hips. But, with 
 the coolness of a real Yankee, the gentleman on fire 
 was trying, first of all, to save his pocket-book. 
 Fortunately, just as he drew it from the depths 
 of his jacket, some policemen had already got 
 hold of him and were tearing off his burning 
 garment. He walked off in his shirt sleeves, as 
 cool as ever, thanking the public and the police- 
 men with a grateful glance. 
 
 I had already had occasion to admire the 
 elegant dresses of the American ladies ; this day 
 my impression became even more established. 
 They wore at the races their freshest and bright- 
 est toilets. 
 
 Embellished by the presence of all these ele- 
 gant creatures, the view of the race- course was 
 simply lovely.
 
 THE TUEF JEKOME PARK. 131 
 
 While acknowledging, with pleasure, the ex- 
 cellent taste of American ladies, I regret being 
 unable to say as much of the gentlemen. 
 
 They dress generally very plainly, and even 
 negligently. At the theatres and concerts, you 
 see them wearing those horrid suits, all of the 
 same material, which we hardly ever venture 
 upon, except in the country, or at the watering 
 places. Low-crowned hats and soft hats are 
 much worn, and the most distinguished gentle- 
 men do not hesitate to escort, in this plight, the 
 most exquisitely-dressed ladies to a party or a 
 dinner. Per contra, many wear white neckties at 
 all times of day and night, and the contrast be- 
 tween this ceremonious article of dress and the 
 rest of the costumes is very strange indeed. 
 
 Something rather surprising for strangers is to 
 see that all Americans have, near the waist, and 
 beneath the skirts of their coats, a rather marked 
 protuberance. This is caused by the revolver 
 which they generally carry in that locality, in a 
 pocket specially made for the purpose.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE AMERICAN NEWSPAPER PRESS. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS have in New York a far greater 
 importance than in Europe. 
 
 It must not be taken, for granted that the press 
 in the New World is also free too. 
 
 While in Europe the governments watch and 
 control the newspapers, here the religious sects 
 and political associations perform this duty quite 
 efficiently. 
 
 The editors, it must be confessed, submit 
 readily to this servitude, and make the best of it. 
 
 Being familiar with the principal establish- 
 ments of the French press, I naturally wished to 
 visit those of the leading New York papers. 
 
 New York editors are better off than ours in 
 regard to space. 
 
 Imagine immense establishments, vast build- 
 ings, and inside these palaces of the American
 
 THE AMERICAN NEWSPAPER PRESS. 133 
 
 press a continual going and coming, and the 
 activity of a bee-hive. 
 
 The journals of New York have, like those of 
 Paris, located themselves in the busiest part of 
 the city. In order to secure prompt and relia- 
 ble information, a newspaper should be placed in 
 the midst of a business centre. 
 
 It is on Broadway, therefore, that the offices of 
 the representative American press are to be 
 found. 
 
 There is no dfficulty in finding these. If it is 
 in day-time, walk boldly in the tallest building ; 
 you will be sure to be right. The New York 
 Tribune building, for instance, is nine stories 
 high. 
 
 If it is at night, open your eyes ; the most 
 brilliantly illuminated edifice is sure to be the 
 very one you are looking for. Behind those 
 shining panes the journalists are at work. They 
 say sometimes, figuratively, in France, that a 
 newspaper is a light-house; in America it would 
 be a literal fact. 
 
 The offices are most complete and comforta- 
 ble. A telegraph, like the one already mentioned,
 
 134 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 is here continually at work. The composing, 
 stereotyping, and press rooms are admirably 
 equipped with improved machinery and appli- 
 ances, 
 
 Here are now some particulars about the lead- 
 ing New York journals : 
 
 The first is the New York Herald, founded 
 some thirty years ago by Mr. James Gordon 
 Bennett* 
 
 Its present circulation is about 70,000 copies. 
 Each number contains, according to want, eight, 
 sixteen, and even twenty- four pages. 
 
 In size, it is about one-quarter larger than 
 the Paris papers. 
 
 Small types being generally used in America, 
 it is easy to see how much news, editorial matter, 
 and advertisements can be crowded in an aver- 
 age number of the New York Herald. To speak 
 only of advertisements, there are twenty-eight 
 columns of them, during the dull season. In 
 lively times, the number of columns reaches 
 sixty. The price of a single insertion varies from 
 twenty-five cents to one dollar. 
 
 Its advertising patronage, copious news, and
 
 THE AMEEICAN NEWSPAPER PRESS. 135 
 
 vast circulation, make of the New York Herald 
 the leading newspaper of the United States. 
 The personnel required for such an adminis- 
 tration is, of course, enormous. Seventy com- 
 positors, twenty pressmen, twenty office clerks, 
 and a legion of boys. So much for the man- 
 ual labor, without counting an army of carriers 
 and venders. 
 
 The editorial staff of the New York Herald 
 is scattered over all parts of the globe. Among 
 its oldest contributors I may mention Mr. Con- 
 nery, a musical critic of great abilty. 
 
 To Mr. Bennett, Jr., I have devoted a place 
 among my portraits. He is at once proprietor 
 and manager of the establishment) and, with- 
 out doubt, the most interesting personage in it. 
 
 Next to the Herald comes the New York 
 Times, which prints 40,000 numbers daily. It 
 is remarkable for the influence which its opin- 
 ions and literary authority exercise on the pub- 
 lic. It was founded by Messrs. Raymond, 
 Jones, and "Wesley. 
 
 Mr. Raymond, a distinguished statesman, re- 
 tained the chief editorship until his death, and
 
 136 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 was succeded by Mr. Jennings, of the London 
 Times. The , present principal proprietor is 
 Mr. Jones, a man of great personal influence. 
 He upholds firmly the reputation of the estab- 
 lishment, and under his vigilant management 
 it ranks all other American papers in point of 
 purity and elegance. The chief editor is Mr. 
 Ford, a talented writer. Mr. Schwab writes the 
 critiques on music and the drama. They are 
 both men whose merit and ability are fully 
 equal to their respective duties. The New York 
 Times uses Walker presses, which require only 
 two men to work them, and print from 15,000 
 to 17,000 copies per hour. 
 
 The New York Tribune, founded by Horace 
 Greeley, an eminent philanthropist and writer, 
 and most decided abolitionist. He was a can- 
 didate for the Presidency in 1872, but was 
 defeated. He died of grief and disappoint- 
 ment shortly after. 
 
 This journal advocates the theories of modern 
 reformers, including women's rights. Mr. Jay 
 Gould, formerly Fisk's partner, is the proprietor. 
 The paper is well written, but seems to have
 
 THE AMEKICAN NEWSPAPER PEESS. 1ST 
 
 lost some of its former influence. Mr. Winter, 
 an excellent and amiable writer, is the drama- 
 tic critic. Mr. Hassard is the musical critic, 
 and a fanatic admirer of Wagner. 
 
 The World. Democratic organ. 12,000 to 
 15,000 numbers daily. The chief editor, Mr. 
 Hurlbut, has travelled and seen much. He is an 
 accomplished gentleman and a writer of talent. 
 The inconsistency of his political opinions is 
 sometimes criticised by his fellow-journalists. 
 But is this really a fault nowadays ? The mu- 
 sical critic, Mr. Wheeler, is a brilliant feuiUe- 
 toniste. 
 
 The Sun, average daily circulation 120,000 
 copies, sells for two cents. Editor and prin- 
 cipal proprietor, Mr. Dana, a first-class journal- 
 ist, who speaks all languages, and excels in 
 condensing the news and unearthing scan- 
 dals. 
 
 The Evening Post, Republican. Large circu- 
 lation. The editor, Mr. William Cullen Bryant, 
 is a well-known American poet. 
 
 The Evening Telegram, published by the 
 New York Herald. This paper differs from
 
 138 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 all the others in this, that it is a sort of con- 
 tinuous publication. It is always being set up, 
 always in press, always selling. A dispatch is 
 received ; quick, an edition is struck off, and as 
 dispatches keep coming all day 
 
 Le Courrier des Etats- Unis (French) ; an ex- 
 cellent paper, founded forty years ago. The 
 journal is edited with praiseworthy care and 
 holds a prominent position among foreign pub- 
 lications. Mr. Frederic Gaillardet, to whom it 
 owes its first prosperity, sold it to Mr. Charles 
 Lasalle, the present proprietor. Mr. Leon Meu- 
 nier, his son-in-law and partner, is the chief 
 editor. Mr. Charles Yilla is the critic. 
 
 Le Messager Franco-Americain (French) ; ul- 
 tra Rebublican ; established ten years ago. Mr. 
 De Mavil, proprietor. Mr. Louis Cortambert, 
 chief editor. 
 
 The Staats-Zeitung (German) prints 25,000 to 
 30,000 copies daily. An ably written and 
 accomplished journal, of great political influence 
 in New York. It is located in a fine building, 
 opposite the Times, which its manager, Mr. 
 Oswald Ottendorfer, has erected. He is an
 
 THE AMERICAN NEWSPAPER PRESS. 139 
 
 Austrian by birth ; but has resided in America 
 some twenty-five years. He is an active politi- 
 cian and able writer. The founder of the journal 
 was Mrs. Uhl, a woman of rare energy. The 
 beginning was somewhat rough. Like Mr. 
 Bennett, the lady-editor often, at first, deliv- 
 ered the papers herself to her subscribers. 
 
 The Associated Press answers to our Agence- 
 Havas. 
 
 The Reporters' Association deserves a special 
 mention. Members of the craft, representing all 
 the papers, have formed a sort of partnership, for 
 the purpose of procuring and communicating to 
 each other all accounts of accidents, crimes, etc. 
 A certain number attend at police head-quarters, 
 whence, in case of any event of note, they may 
 be called by telegraph. A few take charge of 
 the civil courts. Some fifteen meet every morn- 
 ing at the office of the paper, and are dis- 
 patched by the news-editor to the different wards. 
 They all understand short-hand and telegraph- 
 ing. 
 
 By means of a telegraph instrument, they are 
 able to report events which have occurred a
 
 140 OFFENBACH EST AMERICA. 
 
 a thousand miles away, so that the paper may 
 publish five or six columns on the subject of a 
 crime or an accident the very morning after its 
 occurrence.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A FEW CHARACTER SKETCHES. 
 
 UP to this time I have spoken principally of 
 manners and things in America. When 1 have 
 had to bring a personage before the public, I 
 have generally made use of an impersonal desig- 
 nation. I mentioned, for instance, that I had 
 seen, in such a place, " an odd character" in such 
 another, " a pretty woman. 1 " In order to give 
 my readers a more complete and more perfect 
 idea of Americans, I will now endeavor to sketch 
 a fe-w pen-portraits. 
 
 I only wish that this gallery of contemporary 
 pictures may afford as much gratification to the 
 readers of this book as I derived myself from 
 personal intercourse with the originals. 
 
 MR. BENNETT. 
 
 Mr. Bennett is the son of the celebrated James
 
 142 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 Gordon Bennett, who founded the New York 
 Herald some thirty years ago. The New York 
 Herald yields an income of two million francs a 
 year. 
 
 To state how much work, perseverance, and 
 genius were brought to bear in order to accomplish 
 this result would require more than one volume, 
 and I know of no one who could faithfully trans- 
 late such a book except, perhaps, the founder of 
 the French Figaro. I have often wondered what 
 would have happened if my illustrious friend H. 
 de Yillemessant and Mr. James Gordon Bennett 
 had met in 1848, and what kind of a journal 
 would have been produced by the combined en- 
 terprise of the two men who have best under- 
 stood the men and things of their time. 
 
 Upon reflection it is fortunate that chance did 
 not bring them together. Yillemessant would 
 have retained James Gordon Bennett at any 
 price and by every possible means. Paris would 
 doubtless have benefited by such a measure, but 
 New York would have lost much. 
 
 Mr. Bennett, Jr., is thirty years of age, and 
 sharing the good fortune of hereditary monar
 
 A FEW CHARACTER SKETCHES. 143 
 
 chies, he is in all respects the worthy successor of 
 his father. 
 
 His appearance is that of a perfect gentleman ; 
 he is tall, of a dark, pale complexion, and is 
 distinguished looking. Like all men who work 
 
 O O 
 
 much and own much property, he seems cold and 
 reserved, save when animated by some sudden 
 impression. The proprietor of the Herald is 
 certainly conscious that he holds a high position ; 
 he commands an army of faithful correspon- 
 dents, bold and devoted, always ready at a mo- 
 ment's notice to rush from one end of the world 
 to the other. He has throughout the world as 
 many agents as a great power has consuls, and 
 the letters and dispatches which he receives or 
 sends daily are numbered by thousands. Thus 
 no event of any importance occurs in either 
 hemisphere without it being related in his 
 journal a few hours after. 
 
 It was Mr. Bennett who scattered a million to 
 obtain news of the unfortunate Livingstone, and 
 every one remembers the sympathizing curiosity 
 which accompanied his reporter, Mr. Stanley,
 
 144 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 who, starting with a hundred others, had the 
 good fortune of first reaching the goal. 
 
 His remarkable talent for doing things on a 
 large scale increases daily the reputation of his 
 journal. 
 
 In the midst of so numerous and absorbing 
 occupations, Mr. Bennett is yet able to find time 
 for pleasure. He is fond of Paris, which he 
 visits frequently ; he speaks French like a resi- 
 dent of the Boulevard de la Madelaine. One 
 day he took a fancy to go to England in a yacht, 
 upon which Mr. Batbie would certainly not have 
 ventured to sneeze. This fancy trip made a great 
 stir in the world, and had its imitators ; two other 
 yachts started at the same time ; bets were made, 
 and, as usual, the hero of the Herald arrived 
 before the others. Mr. Bennett is fond of social 
 intercourse, and entertains with an extravagance 
 which reminds one of the happy days of the 
 great lords of the last century. On one of his 
 estates he has a model stud, and he often gets up 
 races, to which he invites all the gentlemen riders 
 of the United States. The attraction of these 
 races is that the master of the house supplies the
 
 A FEW CHARACTER SKETCHES. 145 
 
 horses, and that the gentleman who wins takes 
 away his horse, as in our chateaux the sportsmen 
 carry away the traditional hamper of game. Add 
 to all this, most graceful manners, and you will 
 even then form but a faint idea of one of the 
 most interesting personages of the New World. 
 
 THE MANAGER MAURICE GRATT. 
 
 Quite a young man, scarcely twenty-eight 
 years old, but looking forty. Incessant work, 
 care of all sort, an extraordinary activity, and 
 continual preoccupations have made him look 
 prematurely old. He has led a busy life, an ex- 
 istence more feverish, more consuming in Ame- 
 rica than anywhere else. He has already made 
 and lost five or six fortunes. One day he is 
 worth millions, and the next he has not a penny. 
 Nor is this very strange, for Maurice Grau often 
 manages five theatres at one and the same time ; 
 an Italian opera in New York, a French theatre 
 in Chicago, a music-hall in San Francisco, an 
 English dramatic theatre in Havana, and a Span- 
 ish comic opera in Mexico. 
 
 It is he who brought Rubenstein, the famous 
 
 7
 
 14:6 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 pianist, to America. What a campaign that was. 
 Two hundred concerts in less than six months ; 
 sometimes two concerts a day. 
 
 At present Maurice Grau manages Mile. 
 Aimee's troupe. It is he who made the agree- 
 ment with Rossi. The Italian tragedian is ex- 
 pected in two months, and will travel a year with 
 his clever impresario. 
 
 THE ORCHESTRA LEADER, THOMAS. 
 
 Thomas, a violinist, and, according to report, a 
 very ordinary violinist in the New York opera, 
 soon perceived that his position did not pay. He 
 gave up the bow and took up the leader's baton. 
 To distinguish himself from others who beat 
 time, he had the sense to create a specialty, by 
 making himself the propagator of the Wagner 
 imisic, which has procured him a well-established 
 artistic reputation. He is still a young man. 
 To do him justice, he has formed an excellent 
 orchestra. To accomplish that object he has 
 adopted the right means ; cost what it may, he 
 engages the best musicians in America, and con- 
 tinues to pay them a high price. Wherever he
 
 A FEW CHARACTER SKETCHES. 147 
 
 goes, and whatever he undertakes, he can always 
 rely upon the assistance of twelve first-rate per- 
 formers, who never desert him. Thus his or- 
 chestra is noted, among all others, for its wonder- 
 ful ensemble. As leader, Thomas did not appear 
 to me fully up to the reputation he enjoys. He 
 does not lead with spirit. 1 have seen him at 
 the head of his musicians interpret the music of 
 Rossini, Auber, Yerdi, Herold, without force or 
 animation. When by chance he attempts to dis- 
 play a little energy, he leads with both arms at 
 once, which makes him look from behind like a 
 huge bird about to take its flight. He has a 
 great partiality for the music of the director of 
 the Conservatoire of Paris, our excellent friend 
 Ambroise Thomas. He seldom fails to place on 
 his programme a piece written by the author of 
 Mignon. The public generally believes that it 
 is the leader Thomas who is entitled to credit for 
 the piece. If Thomas is not a leader of the first 
 order, he is nevertheless a man of real merit. 
 Great praise is due to him for having selected 
 his orchestra so well, and for having done so 
 much to popularize classic music in America.
 
 148 OFFENBACH IK AMEKICA. 
 
 MAJSETZEK. 
 
 A Hungarian from Yienna, born in Italy, an 
 old resident of New York. About fifty years 
 old an intelligent, open, and witty countenance. 
 A character for which Americans have much 
 sympathy. At "times manager, at others leader of 
 the orchestra, he has originated almost every 
 company which have played Italian opera in the 
 United States. When the business of manager 
 fares badly, which sometimes happens, he turns 
 orchestra leader. Scarcely, however, is he leader 
 than, as he is much liked, funds come in and 
 enable him to form another company, and try his 
 luck once more. I cannot say whether he is a 
 good manager, as I have never seen him at work, 
 but he is an excellent leader, and composes also 
 charming music. At present Maretzek is di- 
 recting the concerts at Offenbach Garden in 
 Philadelphia. You may be sure that before 
 three months he will have laid down his baton 
 to undertake some theatrical enterprise or other. 
 
 WEBER. 
 Weber is a German, naturalized American.
 
 A FEW CHARACTER SKETCHES. 149 
 
 He has lived for twenty years in America. I 
 visited the workshops where he manufactures 
 his pianos. The installation is magnificent. The 
 master of the house received me very graciously. 
 He is a very agreeable man, with a prepossessing 
 face, frank and open. I am not aware whether 
 he be descended from his famous namesake, 
 Charles Marie Yon Weber. I forgot to ask him. 
 However that may be, as the composer was 
 master in his art, the American Weber is master 
 in his. The instruments of his manufacture are 
 much sought after in the United States. 
 
 MISS ESMEKALDA CERVANTES. 
 
 A young and charming person, who travels in 
 both hemispheres with her harp. As musician, 
 she has great talent ; she has but one fault that 
 of putting all her titles on her visiting card and 
 certainly she has enough of them. I copy ver- 
 batim : 
 
 ESMEKALDA CERVANTES. 
 
 Harpist to the royal and imperial courts of S. M. dona 
 Isabella II., of S. M. don Alfonso XII., of S. M. don Louis 
 I. , and of S. M. don Pedro II. , of Brazil. Honorary citizen
 
 150 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 of the Republic of Uruguay, decorated with several crosses 
 and medals ; honorary professor of the Conservatory of Bar- 
 celona ; president of the lyric Esmeralda of Spain ; of the 
 singing societies, Euterpe, Montevideo, and Esmeralda of 
 Buenos -Ayres; of the lyric society la Bulma ; of the oriental 
 hospital and of the benevolent society of Buenos- Ayres ; 
 honorary member of the singing society, Euterpe of Bar- 
 celona, and of the society of the Torre, of the same city ; of 
 the philharmonic society of Brazil ; of the Lyra of Monte- 
 video ; of the literary circles and of the Union of Lima ; of 
 the benevolent societies of Beneficiencia ; of the society of 
 Caridad ; of the Spanish hospital and of the society of Mis- 
 ericorde of Buenos-Ayres ; of the Beneficiencia of Rosario 
 and of Valparaiso; of the Beneficiencia Espana of Lima; 
 member of the society of Firemen of CaUao ; protectress of the 
 society of ladies of the Buen Pastor in America and Europe. 
 
 Let us add that Miss Esmeralda Cervantes is 
 scarcely sixteen years old ! What will she be 
 when she is thirty? 
 
 MOEA. 
 
 Mora is the head of a superb photographic 
 establishment. He has the most agreeable class 
 of customers imaginable. Before his objective- 
 glasses the prettiest American ladies come to sit. 
 They are right, for were it possible to do so,
 
 A FEW CHARACTER SKETCHES. 151 
 
 Mora is skilful enough to render them prettier 
 
 still. 
 
 MAEA. 
 
 A ininature painter. He has a talent for col- 
 oring photographs, and making real miniatures 
 of them. 
 
 A SENATOR. 
 
 I met in New York a personage who, starting 
 from the lowest strata, has reached the rank of 
 senator by the strength of his muscle. This is not 
 a figure of speech. A simple workman at first, 
 and gifted with herculean strength, he left the 
 workshop to become a pugilist, and from the 
 prize-ring he stepped into political life. John 
 Morrissey is still a young man, tall and splen- 
 didly proportioned. His nose is slightly broken ; 
 it is, I am told, a glorious souvenir of a memor- 
 able encounter with another boxer. 
 
 After earning some money by fighting against 
 the "Bulwarks of Cincinnati," and the terrible 
 " Bruisers of Chicago," the pugilist retired and 
 opened two gambling-houses, one in New York, 
 the other in Saratoga. Fortune comes quickly
 
 152 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 in enterprises of this kind, and the former cham- 
 pion is now worth a formidable amount of dol- 
 lars. Having acquired popularity, as well as a 
 considerable fortune, he had no difficulty in get- 
 ting into the Senate. After reading the preced- 
 ing account, you may perhaps imagine that this 
 senator must have retained a certain roughness 
 or brutality in his manners. You are entirely 
 mistaken. He is, on the contrary, a very gentle 
 distinguished man, conversing on all subjects 
 with much tact and intelligence. 
 
 In France, Harpin, known as the Bulwark of 
 Lyons, would have considerable difficulty, not- 
 withstanding the eccentricity of the times, to 
 reach a parliamentary situation. But the devil 
 does not lose much for all that ; for more than 
 once our Assemblies have been transformed into 
 arenas, in which the struggle was not always the 
 most courteous.
 
 CHAPTEE XYI. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 HERE I am in Philadelphia. It is eleven 
 o'clock at night. I put up at the Continental 
 Hotel, a reproduction, as regards size, of the Fifth 
 Avenue Hotel at New York. There are, how- 
 ever, even more people than usual; for the 
 Americans give a dinner to-day to the Emperor 
 of Brazil, who is staying at the hotel. From my 
 apartment I hear a band of music, not entirely 
 harmonious, which is playing Orphee aux Enfers. 
 Are they saluting the departure of Dom Pedro, 
 or my own arrival? it is, perhaps, for both, 
 unless the music has been ordered, which is most 
 probable, to play during dinner. 
 
 The next day, at ten o'clock, I went down to 
 the dining-room for breakfast. It was a repeti- 
 tion of the New York meal. There is, however, 
 
 one thing which gives a peculiar and curious 
 7*
 
 154 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 appearance to the room ; it is that all the waiters 
 are negroes or raulattoes. To be received as waiter 
 in this hotel, it is necessary to have a coating of 
 liquid blacking on your face. The dining-room 
 is immense, and it is a curious sight to see about 
 thirty tables of different sizes, chiefly occupied by 
 pretty women in elegant dresses, around which 
 some forty or fifty negroes are skipping about. 
 The negroes are not bad-looking, but the mulat- 
 toes have magnificent heads. I have an idea that 
 Alexandre Dumas must have passed some time 
 in this country ; for the portrait of our great 
 novelist is reproduced here to perfection. 
 
 As soon as I had breakfasted I started for the 
 Exhibition, for I had forgotten that it was Sun- 
 day. On Sunday the Exhibition is closed ; the 
 houses and taverns are closed ; everything is closed 
 in this joyous city ; it is exceedingly gay. The 
 few people that one meets are coming from 
 church, with their Bibles and funeral faces. 
 Should you be guilty of smiling, they look at you 
 with horror ; should you laugh, they would have 
 you arrested. 
 
 The streets are very fine, and wide enough to
 
 PHILADELPHIA. 155 
 
 rival the Boulevard Haussman. On both sides 
 are houses of red brick, with window-frames in 
 white marble ; here and there pretty little man- 
 sions ; but the churches are very numerous. The 
 pretty women of Philadelphia probably require 
 much praying for, and I see no great harm in the 
 fact. 
 
 A new City Hall is being built, in white marble, 
 and will cost two hundred million of francs. 
 
 My two friends and I did not know how on 
 earth to spend our Sunday. We were advised to 
 go to Indian Rock, in Fail-mount Park. It takes 
 two hours to go there, but the park is endless. 
 
 The people of Philadelphia are proud of this 
 immense garden, and with reason, for it is im- 
 possible to imagine anything finer or more pic- 
 turesque. Here and there are little cottages 
 nestling in the shrubbery ; small streams winding 
 under the trees, green valleys, shady ravines, 
 splendid woods ; it is magnificent. 
 
 From time to time one sees a tavern, a public- 
 house full of people. The men, according to the 
 American fashion, stretched in rocking-chairs, or 
 on ordinary chairs, resting their feet upon some
 
 156 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 object higher than their heads. They all had 
 large glasses of red, green, or yellow lemonade 
 before them. Strong drinks are forbidden on 
 Sunday one must confine himself to mild drinks. 
 The law cannot be the same for all, for a carriage, 
 driven by two residents of the place, quite 
 drunk (and I hardly suppose the lemonade could 
 have produced this effect), nearly ran into ours 
 several timea. These questionable observers of 
 the Sunday law passed us several times, and 
 seemed bent upon upsetting us. On reaching 
 Indian Rock, our coachman gravely dismounted 
 from his box, and took hold of the reins of the 
 horse driven by the two drunken men. He 
 begged these gentlemen to get out of their car- 
 riage. On their refusal, a policeman gravely got 
 into their carriage, lifted out one of them, handing 
 him over into the arms of another policeman, who 
 received him with the greatest politeness; he 
 then gravely took the reins and drove off with the 
 other. A dozen words were not exchanged be- 
 tween them; all was done silently, gravely, 
 methodically.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 OFFENBACH GARDEN. 
 
 THE establishment where I was to give con- 
 certs was a covered garden, recently built on the 
 model of Gilmore's Garden, bat smaller. The 
 same stage, the same cascade, the same Niagara, 
 the same colored glasses, the same rustic boxes. 
 What pleased me most was that I had at Phila- 
 delphia almost the same musicians as at New 
 Tork ; they were less numerous it is true sev- 
 enty-five instead of one hundred and ten the 
 hall not being so large. My permission had been 
 asked to call it Offenbach Garden, and I could 
 not refuse. Offenbach Garden was as favorable 
 to me as Gilmore Garden. The same enthusi- 
 asm ; the same encores ; the same brilliant con- 
 certs. The day after each concert the journals 
 overwhelmed me with praise ; once only a jour- 
 nal made me a reproach, which caused me much
 
 158 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 grief. Speaking of my personal appearance, 
 dress coat, black trousers, white cravat, the critic 
 observed that I wore gray gloves. The observa- 
 tion was correct ; I must humbly admit that I 
 have worn white gloves four times only in my 
 life ; once as groomsman, another time on my 
 wedding day, and the two others at the marriage 
 of my two daughters. 
 
 On Sundays, concerts, as well as all other 
 amusements, are forbidden. One day the pro- 
 prietor of the garden came to tell me that he 
 had obtained permission to give a sacred concert. 
 
 " I rely upon you," he said ; " I have already 
 had the bills printed. See ! " 
 
 He showed me the placard, which I copy 
 faithfully for the benefit of the reader, on the 
 opposite page.
 
 OFFENBACH GARDEN 
 
 COR BROAD AND CHERRY STS 
 
 SUNDAY !: VI2M \G, JUWE 25 TH 
 
 AT 8 O'CLOCK P. M., 
 
 GRAND 
 
 SACRED 
 
 CONCERT 
 
 BY 
 
 M. OFFENBACH 
 
 AND THE 
 
 GRAND ORCHESTRA 
 
 IN A CHOICE SELECTION OF 
 
 SACRED AND CLASSICAL MUSIC 
 
 50 ems 
 
 LEDGER JOB PRINT. PHILAD*
 
 160 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 For a whole week my Grand Sacred Concert 
 was placarded all over the town, and during 
 this time I prepared a very pretty programme : 
 
 Deo gratias, from the Domino noir. 
 
 Ace Maria, by Gounod. 
 
 Religious March, from la Haine. 
 
 Ace Maria, by Schubert. 
 
 Liianie de la Belle Hettne, dis-moi, Venus. 
 
 Hymn, from Orphee aux Enfers. 
 
 Prayer, from the Grande Duchesse (Dites-lui). 
 
 Seraphic Dance, Burlesque Polka. 
 
 Angdus, from the Mariage aux Lanternes. 
 
 Unfortunately the authorities changed their 
 mind at the last moment. I regret that the 
 affair did not take place, for I am persuaded 
 that my Sacred Concert would have been a great 
 success.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ON THE WAT TO NIAGARA PULLMAN OAKS. 
 
 THE road from New York to Niagara is very 
 fine. The landscape, as far as Albany, is truly 
 marvellous along the splendid river Hudson. 
 I do not know to what river in Europe I 
 could compare the American river. There are 
 places which remind me of the most beautiful 
 parts of the Rhine; there are others which 
 surpass in beauty all that I had ever seen. 
 The voyage is made in the most agreeable 
 manner ; the Pullman cars are a precious in- 
 stitution. The great problem is realized by 
 these wonderful carriages of being on a rail- 
 way and having none of the unpleasantness of 
 travelling by rail. One is not, as with us, 
 packed in narrow compartments, nor exposed 
 to the tingling sensation which passes in one's 
 limbs after some hours of immobility. One has
 
 162 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 not to fear ankylosis of the fatigued limbs from 
 keeping the same position for too great a 
 length of time. In the American train you 
 
 can walk about from one car to another all 
 
 i 
 
 the way from the baggage-car to the buffer of 
 the last carriage. When tired of walking, you 
 can rest in an elegant saloon, upon excellent 
 arm-chairs. You have at hand all necessary 
 comforts to make life agreeable. I cannot bet- 
 ter sum up my admiration for American rail- 
 ways than by saying that they are really a 
 cradle on wheels. 
 
 I do not, however, like the continual bell which 
 accompanies you all along the journey with its 
 funeral knell ; but it is, perhaps, only a matter 
 of habit, and one should not have too delicate an 
 ear when travelling in America, for one is con- 
 stantly persecuted by unpleasant sounds. 
 
 At Utica, where we stopped a few minutes to 
 lunch, I saw (and heard, alas!) a large negro 
 beating a tam-tam. He was evidently playing 
 music of his own composing, for he beat some- 
 times loud and with astonishing quickness, some- 
 times with measured slowness. I forgot to lunch
 
 ON THE WAY TO NIAGARA PULLMAN CARS. 163 
 
 while watching this peculiar musician. During 
 his last piece of music for so he doubtless con- 
 sidered it I was all ears and eyes. He began by 
 a fortissimo which deafened you, for the negro 
 was a powerful fellow, and applied all his 
 strength. After this brilliant opening, his music 
 continued deorescendo, piano, pianissimo, then 
 silence. 
 
 At the same moment the train started. I had 
 just time to jump on, and we were again at full 
 speed. 
 
 At Albany we stopped to dine. I found 
 another great negro before the hotel, who resem- 
 bled the first, and who was also playing the tam- 
 tam. This must certainly be a country exceed- 
 ingly fond of the tam-tam. 
 
 A hungry belly has no ears, says the proverb. 
 I am grieved in this case at being unable to agree 
 with the wisdom of nations, for, notwithstanding 
 my appetite, the negro's music tormented me 
 during all the meal. He played exactly like his 
 colleague at Utica the same repetition of forte, 
 piano, and pianissimo. I was on the point of 
 asking if the negroes really considered the solo
 
 164 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 on the tam-tam to be music, and if this was their 
 national air, when one of my friends addressed 
 me. 
 
 " This negro puzzles you," he said ; " you will 
 see one just like him at every station on the 
 line." 
 
 "Is it an attention on the part of the com- 
 pany ? " I asked. 
 
 " No, it is the hotel-keepers who engage them. 
 The negroes play all the time the train is at the 
 station ; their music warns the travellers who are 
 inside the hotel. While the tam-tam is loud, you 
 can remain quiet ; when the sound decreases, you 
 had better hurry ; when it is at the lowest, the 
 travellers know that they must jump into the 
 cars, which, like Louis XIV., do not wait, and, 
 worse still, give no warning. So much the worse 
 for those who lose the train." 
 
 I do not know whether I prefer the American 
 style to that employed by the hotel-keeper at 
 Morcenz, between Bordeaux and Biarritz. Hav- 
 ing no negro, the landlord himself shouts, in a 
 stentorian voice: "Five minutes more! four 
 minutes more ! three minutes more ! "
 
 ON THE WAT TO NIAGARA PULLMAN CARS. 165 
 
 The two systems are alike ; the only difference 
 is that one deafens you with his voice inside the 
 establishment, while the other stuns you with his 
 music in the open air.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. 
 
 MUCH has been written on the subject of this 
 wonderful waterfall, but no one has yet been able 
 to describe the impression produced by the sight 
 of the great stream at the moment when it leaps 
 headlong, from a height of a hundred and fifty 
 feet, into the fathomless abyss beneath. The view 
 of that vast amphitheatre, of that prodigious 
 volume of water, breaking into foam, with a roar 
 of thunder, like the huge tidal wave that follows 
 an earthquake, made me giddy, and caused me 
 to forget all I had ever read, all I had ever 
 heard, and all that had ever suggested itself to my 
 imagination. This diluvial torrent, framed with- 
 in the wildest scenery, surrounded by lofty trees 
 of the deepest green, upon which a shower of 
 spray is constantly falling like perpetual dew, 
 defies photography, painting, or description. In
 
 THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. 167 
 
 order to describe, there must be some point of 
 comparison. To what can Niagara be compared, 
 that unrivalled, everlasting phenomenon, to the 
 magnificence of which we can never become 
 accustomed ! 
 
 While we were absorbed in the contemplation 
 of this wonder 
 
 " This is the spot," said our guide, " where an 
 Indian met with his fate a fortnight ago. Car- 
 ried away by the current, the slight craft that 
 held him was drawing near to the Falls, notwith- 
 standing all his efforts. The Indian, feeling his 
 strength giving way, saw that he was lost. He 
 ceased to struggle, wrapped himself up in his 
 red blanket as in a shroud, and laid himself 
 down in the bottom of his boat. A few seconds 
 after he was on the crest of the gigantic wave, 
 and was shot with the rapidity of lightning into 
 this watery grave, covered with a mist of im- 
 maculate white." 
 
 After hearing the story of this catastrophe, so 
 fearful, yet so grand, I could not help envying 
 the fate of the unfortunate red-skin, and I won- 
 dered that all Americans in distress did not
 
 168 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 prefer the Falls of Niagara to the insipid revolver. 
 After having long enjoyed this wonderful spec- 
 tacle, I crossed the bridge and set foot on Cana- 
 dian soil. Here, I had been told, I would see 
 Indians. I expected to find savages, and was 
 surprised to find only dealers in bric-a-brac. 
 They were hideous, I confess ; they looked quite 
 ferocious, I admit also : but! doubt whether they 
 were genuine Indians. However that may be, 
 they surrounded me on all sides, offered me 
 bamboos, fans, cigar-holders, and pocket-books of 
 a doubtful taste. They reminded me of the 
 Indians of the forest of Fontainbleau who sell 
 pen-holders and paper-knives. 
 
 Nevertheless, I made a few purchases ; but I 
 verily believe that I brought back into France 
 some curiosities which had been procured at the 
 selling out of some Parisian bazar.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE DAUPHIN ELEAZAR. 
 
 ON the boat that takes you to all the fine parts 
 of the lake is a distributor of hand-bills, who 
 compels you to take his little paper. In Paris, 
 when one of these persons offers you a bill, you 
 take it to encourage business, but you manage to 
 throw it away ten steps further. I had the good 
 idea not to treat thus the prospectus which had 
 been handed me, and I had my reward ; for the 
 paper which had been almost forced upon me is 
 a valuable document, which may have the greatest 
 influence upon the destiny of France. This 
 document begins, it is true, by explaining, like an 
 ordinary guide-book, the beauties of the various 
 places to be seen on the borders of the lake; 
 but it contains an extremely curious pas age, 
 
 which I am happy to give here verbatim : 
 8
 
 1TO OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 " Howe Point, near the outlet of the lake, is 
 named in honor of the idol of the army, Lord 
 Howe, who was killed at this place in the first 
 engagement with the French. Here it was that 
 Louis XVL, of France, through the instrumen- 
 tality of two French priests, in 1795, banished his 
 son, the Royal Dauphin, when but seven years 
 old, and arranged with an Indian chief, one 
 Thomas Williams, to adopt him as his own son. 
 He received the name of Eleazar, and afterwards, 
 as the Rev. Eleazar Williams, was educated and 
 ordained to the ministry, officiating for many 
 years among the Oneidas of Western New York, 
 and afterwards in Wisconsin, where he was vis- 
 ited, a few years since, by the Prince de Joinville, 
 and offered large estates in France, if he would 
 renounce his rights to the THRONE OF FRANCE. 
 These tempting offers he declined, preferring to 
 retain his right as KING OF FRANCE, although he 
 might spend his life in preaching the gospel to 
 the poor savages, which he did until the time of 
 his death, some years since." 
 
 After having read this narration, as touching 
 as it was probable, I made inquiries, and learnt
 
 THE DAUPHIN ELEAZAR. 171 
 
 that the Rev. Dauphin Eleazar had left a 
 son. 
 
 Another claimant ! 
 
 Imagine this gentleman arriving in France. 
 "What a complication ! I tremble to think of it.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE RETURN FROM NIAGARA SLEEPING-CARS. 
 
 ON the way from Niagara I took the night 
 train. I was glad of an opportunity to try in 
 person the sleeping-cars of which I had heard so 
 much. 
 
 I entered the car, which seemed arranged, as 
 usual, with large easy-chairs on each side of 
 the passage-way special rooms for smokers, and 
 all the convenience which I had so much ad- 
 mired on my first trip. Nothing indicated, in 
 the arrangement of the cars, that one could sleep 
 there in a bed, and I began to believe in some 
 mystification, so utterly impossible did it seem 
 that all the ladies and gentlemen who sat in this 
 fine saloon could be supplied with sleeping ac- 
 commodations. 
 
 Nevertheless, at about nine o'clock, when it 
 began to get quite dark, two servants of the com-
 
 RETURN FROM NIAGARA SLEEPING-CARS. 173 
 
 pany appeared and commenced the arrange- 
 ments. In the twinkling of an eye our seats 
 were transformed into beds, and in the most 
 simple manner. Upon the seats joined together 
 by a board, they placed first a mattress, sheets, 
 and blankets. The saloon, thus turned into a 
 dormitory, would not have been sufficient for 
 the number of travellers without another expe- 
 dient. Above each of the beds is a little appa- 
 ratus, which drops down, and which proves to be 
 a sort of folding-bed. There are thus two 
 stories of beds in each compartment the ground 
 floor and the entresol. But, before retiring, there 
 is a preliminary operation, which people are not 
 generally fond of performing in public. The 
 men, were they alone, could easily undress be- 
 fore each other ; but the ladies, it will readily 
 be understood, cannot undress before all the 
 travellers. The inventor of the sleeping-cars 
 was therefore obliged to find some means of reas- 
 suring the modesty of the fair sex. This he has 
 succeeded in doing by making of each pair of 
 beds the upper and the lower ones a complete 
 bed-room. Two large curtains, drawn parallel
 
 174 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 the whole length of the car, form a long corridor 
 in the centre, in which the travellers can walk, 
 if so disposed. Between each of these curtains 
 and the side of the wagon are smaller curtains. 
 A person in bed is thus in a little room, which 
 at the head has a wooden wall, and on the three 
 other sides a curtain partition. 1 have known 
 hotels where the walls were less discreet than 
 those of the sleeping-car. 
 
 All the preparations being finished, an amus- 
 ing scene begins. Each one chooses his bed, and 
 selects the little compartment which appears 
 most advantageous to him. Then for some 
 minutes is heard in the adjoining rooms the 
 noise of boots falling on the floor, or the pleasant 
 rustling sound which reveals the removing of a 
 skirt. 
 
 When a husband travels with his wife, he has 
 a perfect right to occupy the same compartment 
 with her. This fact was revealed to me by an 
 extremely interesting conversation, held in a low 
 tone, which took place in the next berth to mine on 
 the right side. However discreet one may be, one 
 is always a little curious to know what neighbors,
 
 RETURN FROM NIAGARA SLEEPING-CARS. 175 
 
 chance has given you. On the left, the occupant 
 of the cabin was a charming young lady. She 
 had retired to her room as soon as the transfor- 
 mation of the saloon had taken place, and, to her 
 honor be it said, her presence was revealed only 
 by the most discreet motions. Then when the 
 curtain ceased to stir, the sound of a bed receiv- 
 ing a light body informed me that she had at last 
 lain down for the night. A few minutes elapsed. 
 I had also stretched myself upon my bed, but not 
 being accustomed to this kind of travelling hotel, 
 and being kept awake by my old Parisian habit of 
 going to sleep very late, I lay with my eyes open, 
 thinking of the strange aspect of this American 
 dormitory. In the passage at my feet, formed 
 by the two long curtains of which I have spoken, 
 I heard the sound of people walking to and fro. 
 "Who could they be I I cast a glance upon the 
 corridor, and saw horresco referens ladies in 
 night jackets (it is true they were not the pret- 
 tiest) who were going ... I know not where. I 
 saw also a good-looking Yankee who came out of 
 his room. After ascertaining that the road was 
 clear, he walked to the platform and lit a cigar.
 
 176 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 A moment later he threw away his fragrant 
 Havana, and returned inside the car ; but instead 
 of going straight to his cabin, he directed his 
 steps YOU have already guessed to that of my 
 pretty neighbor on the left. 
 
 His irruption into the sanctuary of the pretty 
 American lady provoked a series of exclamations, 
 uttered in a low voice, so as not to arouse the gen- 
 eral attention of the dormitory, and the invader 
 retired, making some excuse for his mistake. 
 The night passed without any further incident. 
 
 Scarcely had rosy-fingered morn appeared, 
 than the servants appeared also. Ladies and 
 gentlemen tumbled out of their beds, and made 
 their toilets as best they could behind their re- 
 spective curtains. The agents of the company 
 then restored everything to its usual order in the 
 twinkling of an eye. After our night's sleep, 
 therefore, we met again in the saloon as fresh 
 and as well as though we had spent the night in 
 a hotel. 
 
 In Albany an American presented me to his 
 wife and mother-in-law. "While we were talk- 
 ing, a pedlar came along with fans, and I
 
 KETUKN FROM NIAGARA SLEEPING-CARS. 177 
 
 bought two for a few cents and offered them to 
 the ladies. 
 
 " We accept, sir," they said, " but on one con- 
 dition." 
 
 " What is that ? " I inquired. 
 
 " That you write your name on a corner of the 
 fan." 
 
 " Oh 1 an autograph," I said, at once complying 
 with their desire. 
 
 I noticed, on several occasions, what a mania 
 Americans have for autographs. It is a pas- 
 sion which they carry to a point of being indis- 
 creet. 
 
 I received, on an average, during my stay in 
 the States, about ten requests a day, coming from 
 all parts of the American territory. I have been 
 hailed, followed, and dogged in hotels, public 
 gardens, theatres, and even in the street, by de- 
 termined collectors, who insisted upon having a 
 few lines of my handwriting. My calligraphy 
 was at a premium, and I received letters of 
 every kind, some simple, others ingenious : 
 
 " SIR, I have made a bet with one of my 
 
 friends that you were born in Paris. As the 
 
 8* '
 
 178 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 araonnt ia considerable, will you kindly drop me 
 a line and let me know if I have won ? " 
 
 Another had wagered that I had originally 
 come from Cologne ; a third affirmed that my 
 native place was the little German town of Offen- 
 bach, famous for its manufacture of cutlery ; and 
 all ended with the same request for a line. 
 
 Some of my unknown correspondents pro- 
 ceeded in another manner : 
 
 " My name is Michel ; I am a distant relative 
 of your brother-in-law, Robert. Send me a line, 
 and let me know how he is." 
 
 These were not aware even that Mitchel and 
 Michel were not spelled alike. 
 
 There was also the following model : 
 
 " SIR, I have something very important to com- 
 municate to you. Will you admit me? Please 
 Bend a line in reply." 
 
 I could mention forty or fifty of the same kind. 
 
 One day an Englishman addressed me, while I 
 was dining at the Brunswick. 
 
 " I live at San Francisco," he said, " and I 
 Bhould like to have your name." 
 
 My dinner was about over ; I rose, gave him my
 
 RETURN FROM NIAGARA SLEEPING-CARS. 179 
 
 card, and left him a little disappointed. I im- 
 agined that I had done with the fellow ; but the 
 next day he was waiting for me, and, as I entered 
 the dining-room, he rushed to me, with paper, 
 pen, and ink in his hand. 
 
 " Just your signature ! " he said, in a tremulous 
 voice ; " I start this evening ; it would give me 
 BO much pleasure ; I have come from such a dis- 
 tance." 
 
 It was impossible to refuse a man who had 
 come from so far. 
 
 All the requests I received invariably con- 
 tained an envelope, directed and stamped, and I 
 accumulated five or six hundred of these. I 
 hereby inform my fair applicants for autographs 
 that 1 carefully collected their stamps, disposed 
 of them, and sent the product to a charitable 
 institution. 
 
 Let them receive, then, with the assurance of 
 my profound regret, the thanks of the poor.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE MISEEIES OF A MUSICIAN. 
 
 BESIDES the concerts which I had engaged 
 to direct, I had promised Mdlle. Aimee to lead 
 at some of the representations which she in- 
 tended giving in America. According to my 
 promise, I had held the baton of leader of the 
 orchestra in New Tork, at the theatre where 
 Mdlle. Aime'e sang. I thought I had thus dis- 
 charged my obligation towards her; but when 
 my series of concerts were over in Philadel- 
 phia, she came to inform me that she was about 
 starting for Chicago, and begged me to lead 
 
 a last representation at X . I have special 
 
 reasons for not giving the name of the town. 
 
 I intended myself going to Chicago, and X 
 
 being on the way, I consented. I reached 
 
 X early in the morning. The piece for 
 
 the evening was La Belle Parfumeuse. I
 
 THE MISERIES OF A MUSICIAN. 181 
 
 went to the theatre, so as to have at least 
 one rehearsal with my orchestra. 
 
 I went to my desk, gave the signal, and the 
 musicians began. 
 
 I knew my score by heart. What, then, was 
 my surprise at hearing, instead of what I ex- 
 pected, some strange sounds which bore no like- 
 ness to my operetta. I could make out the tunes, 
 but the scoring was entirely different from mine. 
 Some inventive local musician had thought pro- 
 per to compose a new score according to his 
 own ideas ! 
 
 My first impulse was to leave the rehearsal at 
 once, and to give up all thought of leading the 
 orchestra in the evening. Mdlle. Aimee, how- 
 ever, begged me so hard to stay, representing 
 that I was on the bills, that the public would be 
 angry if I did not appear, that the performance 
 would even be impossible, that I finally allowed 
 myself to be coaxed. I resumed my bow, and 
 gave the signal of attack to my orchestra. What 
 an orchestra ! It was small, but wretched. Out 
 of twenty-five musicians eight were pretty good, 
 six were indifferent, and the others decidedly bad.
 
 182 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 To guard against all eventualities, I first of all 
 requested a second violin to take a kettle-drum, 
 and I gave him my instructions privately. This 
 was a lucky thought, as will be seen hereafter. 
 
 The rehearsal was so deplorable, that when it 
 was over I made new efforts to be excused from 
 leading. It was time lost ; I found it impossible 
 to escape from the execution of my music. 
 
 " Come what may," I thought, " I have prom- 
 ised to lead two acts. I will lead them, with the 
 help of Providence." 
 
 What a performance ! You should have heard 
 it. The two clarionets emitted false notes every 
 instant except, however, when they were needed. 
 In the comic march of the first act I have noted 
 a few bars purposely out of tune, and this always 
 produces an amusing effect. When they had 
 reached this particular passage, the clarionets 
 stopped, and went on merely counting time ; the 
 fool who had scored my music had written this 
 piece for the quartette only. At the rehearsal I 
 had begged these gentlemen (the clarionet play- 
 ers) to play, no matter what, in this place, feeling 
 certain that the false notes would come naturally.
 
 THE MISERIES OF A MUSICIAN. 183 
 
 But I had reckoned without my host ; relying 
 upon their text, the rascals absolutely refused to 
 go on. 
 
 "We have pauses to mark; we must mark 
 them ; there is nothing written for us." 
 
 "But, gentlemen, the false notes you utter 
 when there are no pauses are not written either, 
 and nevertheless you do not spare them." 
 
 It was impossible to convince them. As for 
 the hautboy, he played from time to time as he 
 felt inclined ; the flute blew when he could ; the 
 bassoon slept half the time ; the violoncello and 
 double-bass, placed just behind me, skipped note 
 after note, and smuggled in a base of their own 
 fancy. While leading with the right hand, I had 
 at every moment to stop either the bow of the 
 double-bass or that of the violoncello. That was 
 to parry the false notes. The first violinist, an 
 excellent one, was always too hot ; the thermome- 
 ter stood above 100 degrees in the room, and the 
 poor fellow was continually trying to wipe his 
 forehead. I appealed to him in a beseeching 
 tone : " If you forsake me, my friend, we are 
 lost 1 " He put away his handkerchief n?ourn-
 
 184: OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 fully, and took up his instrument ; but the flood 
 of false notes kept constantly raising. Happily 
 the first act was drawing to a close. 
 
 An enthusiastic success I 
 
 I fancied I must be dreaming. 
 
 All this was nothing to the second act. Still 
 following my own score, as originally written, I 
 turned to the flute, who should, according to the 
 text, have struck in at this point ; but it was the 
 trombone on the right who responded instead. 
 
 The two clarionet players had, according to my 
 score, a song in tierce. The local musician had 
 given it to the cornet-a-piston, who played false, 
 and to the bassoon, who was still asleep. At last, 
 and not without much difficulty, we reached the 
 finale. I doubted very much whether we should 
 get through it. The duet between Rose and 
 JBavolet went on after a fashion, but it went on. 
 The finale follows the duet, and as the latter 
 ends in 0, 1 have of course made for the entry of 
 Clorinde, which begins in B major, the modula- 
 tion in C sharp, E sharp, E. The bass plays the 
 sharp. My little march had been scored by the 
 musician of X , for the famous clarionets, the
 
 THE MISERIES OF A MUSICIAN. 185 
 
 hautboy player, who did not play, and the bassoon, 
 who was sleeping more soundly than ever. I 
 made desperate signs to his neighbor, who woke 
 him suddenly. If I had only known, I would 
 have let him alone ; for instead of striking the A 
 sharp, he struck up E sharp with all the strength 
 of his lungs. Five notes too high ! The unfor- 
 tunate artist who played Clorinde naturally fol- 
 lowed the natural ascension, and also started the 
 melody five notes too high. The orchestra, pay- 
 ing no attention to all these particulars, went on 
 playing five notes too low, and one may imagine 
 the cacophony. I made desperate signs to Clo- 
 rinde and to the musicians, while the perspiration 
 was streaming from my face. An inspiration from 
 heaven at last came to my aid. I made an ener- 
 getic and desperate sign to the drummer. He 
 understood me, and a vigorous roll that made 
 the windows rattle a roll of thirty bars, that 
 lasted until the end of the duet, and which com- 
 pletely drowned, heaven knows, how many false 
 notes. The public certainly never understood 
 why, during a mysterious scene in the middle of 
 the night, that drum was heard so loud and so
 
 186 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 long ; perhaps they took it for a flash of genius 
 on the part of the composer. Such was it, indeed, 
 for it saved the situation. I never think without 
 a cold shudder of the horrors which the rolling 
 of that drum covered up. 
 
 After this piece of eccentricity I expected a 
 torrent of abuse from the newspapers, when giv- 
 ing an account of the performance ; on the con- 
 trary, it was praise, and only praise, which they 
 bestowed upon me for the masterly manner in 
 which I had led.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE FIKEMEN OF NEW YOKK. 
 
 To go to New York and not to see how fires 
 are put out in America would be a most unpar- 
 donable neglect. If by chance you should not 
 have an opportunity of witnessing such a sight 
 in the natural course of events, you have only to 
 get into the good graces of my friend, Mr. King, 
 and he will put you in the way of enjoying the 
 sight at your ease, and without any risk either to 
 your own or your neighbor's property. 
 
 I was invited to be present at an experiment 
 of this sort, organized specially for my benefit, 
 one evening after my concert at Gilmore's Gar- 
 den. 
 
 I cannot do better on this occasion than to 
 quote the Figaro, where my visit is admirably 
 described by M. Bertie-Marriott, the able corre-
 
 188 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 spondent sent by M. de Yillemessant to America 
 as the representative of his journal. 
 
 I think my readers will be thankful if I do 
 not confine myself to the passage concerning the 
 firemen. As there is ill the earliest portions of 
 this article a good deal said about me, and as the 
 title of this book compels me at times to speak 
 rather more of myself than I should like, I am 
 happy that another has, in this instance, taken 
 upon himself to give an account of my doings. 
 Here is, then, without further preamble, the arti- 
 cle in question : 
 
 " NEW YORK, 5th June, 1876. 
 
 " One engine, that of the railroad, has brought 
 me to Jersey City; another, that of the ferry- 
 boat, has landed me in New York, the ' Empire 
 City ' of the continent. Here we were, on board 
 of that vast construction, the ferry-boat, a whole 
 crowd of men, horses, and carriages. All were 
 standing, men and beasts all anxious to arrive 
 at their destination. It was night, and yet it was 
 evident that all these people were in haste in 
 haste to take their rest and to get rid of sleep.
 
 THE FEREMEN OF NEW YORK. 189 
 
 For is not sleep so much lost time? To-day 
 drives them towards to-morrow, and to-morrow 
 is for each what yesterday was business, strug- 
 gle. Time is money ; therefore let none be lost. 
 
 "The conversations are curt, and always on 
 business. It would not be an exaggeration to 
 say that out of every hundred words spoken, the 
 word dollar is heard seventy-five times. The 
 golden calf has many worshippers, and there is 
 no Moses to overthrow him. To my great aston- 
 ishment, I hear frequently uttered the well-known 
 name of Offenbach. ' How is this ? ' I thought. 
 'Have I been asleep, and been unconsciously 
 carried back to Paris ? ' 
 
 " My neighbor reassures me. I am indeed in 
 New York, and our sympathetic maestro is there 
 also; so my informant tells me. lie leads an 
 orchestra nightly ; crowds go to hear him, to see 
 him, to touch him. 'He is a great musician,' 
 adds the Yankee ; ' they pay him one thousand 
 dollars a night just to lead the orchestra ! ' 
 
 " That is the whole point for this man-dollar. 
 ' They pay him one thousand dollars ! ' With 
 what admiration and respect, with what metallic
 
 190 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 quiver of the voice, he speaks these words : ' They 
 pay him one thousand dollars ! ' 
 
 " For this American it is not that brilliant and 
 sparkling music that will gain his enthusiasm 
 and applause ; it is that figure of one thousand 
 dollars a night which gives the value of the mas- 
 ter. How could it be otherwise ? It is the first 
 word he has heard as a child; it was his first 
 love as a young man ; it will be his only passion 
 through life. 
 
 " I follow my guide, and, emerging from some 
 badly lighted streets, I come suddenly to an im- 
 mense covered garden, lit by a thousand colored 
 lights. It is vast, it is splendid ; what a crowd ! 
 what a lot of pretty women ! 
 
 " I reach with difficulty the centre of the gar- 
 den, it is so densely packed. Upon a platform a 
 hundred musicians are waiting, their eyes fixed 
 upon the baton of the leader. There he is him- 
 self ; and he appears a little nervous under the 
 eager glances of that curious multitude. 
 
 " The piece is a polka, composed on board the 
 steamer expressly for the Americans ; the fact is 
 known, and the public is therefore pleased. The
 
 THE FIREMEN OF NEW YOEK. 191 
 
 rhythm is sometimes slow, sometimes rapid, in- 
 termingled with songs and laughter ; it is bril- 
 liant, exciting; and I surprise these people, 
 usually so cold, so preoccupied, and for whom 
 amusement itself is almost a bore, laughing most 
 heartily. Musicians and public are both carried 
 away ; thunders of applause are heard ; the piece 
 is unanimously encored, and has to be performed 
 over again. 
 
 "It is over at last; he comes down, and is 
 kindly permitted to pass. ' Figaro ,' he exclaims, 
 as he sees me ' Figaro' in New York ! This 
 gives me still more pleasure than what you have 
 just seen and heard.' 
 
 " Taking me by the arm, he leads me through 
 the crowd, who, from this mark of friendship, 
 must take me for a ' distinguished personage.' 
 How many pretty young ladies would like to 
 hang upon that celebrated arm, that arm which 
 makes one thousand dollars a night ! they look 
 at me positively as if I were robbing them. 
 
 " ' You must come with me,' said the maestro, 
 'I have just been invited to go and see the fire- 
 men ; and you understand that I am very anxious
 
 192 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 to see this institution, of which we have heard so 
 much, and of which they are so proud.' 
 
 " "Well, it is wonderful, incredible ! Had we 
 not been there ourselves, watch in hand, we 
 would never have believed it; we would have 
 said : Get out, you are a humbug ! 
 
 " Here is in a few words what we saw : 
 
 " One of the chiefs of the Fire Department, Mr. 
 King, accompanied us. 'Name any post you 
 would like to take by surprise ! ' he said. The 
 Eighteenth street engine-house being close by, 
 Offenbach mentions it, and we direct our steps 
 towards it. Arriving at the door, Mr. King re- 
 quests us to pay particular attention, and to take 
 out our watches ; he then rings a little bell ; the 
 door is opened, and we enter. The engine is 
 there, bright and shining ; further back, three 
 horses stand in their stalls, ready harnessed. The 
 firemen are asleep upstairs. A gong hangs upon 
 the wall. ' Be careful now, and stand out of the 
 way of the horses,' says Mr. King. And he gives 
 the alarm by striking the gong. 
 
 " The three horses are harnessed ; twelve men
 
 THE FIREMEN OF NEW YORK. 193 
 
 are there, who climb upon the engine and take 
 hold of the horses ; the driver shouts, ' Ready ! ' 
 1 How long ? ' asks Mr. King. Six seconds and a 
 half had elapsed since the gong sounded ! With- 
 out one word, without grumbling, the horses are 
 returned to their stalls, the men go back to their 
 beds. The inspector had the right of seeing if 
 the service was well done ; he was satisfied the 
 men had done their duty. 
 
 " I confess I had not had time to distinguish 
 anything. I had heard a noise as of distant thun- 
 der : it was the men ; I had felt the floor shaking 
 dreadfully : it was the horses ; I had seen a red 
 glare : it was the furnace of the engine ; I had 
 caught a glimpse of a dark form grasping the 
 reins : it was the driver about to call out 'ready ; ' 
 but, I repeat, I had had no time to distinguish 
 anything, and yet, as the driver said, all was 
 ready in six seconds and a half ! 
 
 " I looked at Offenbach ; he was dumb, and still 
 staring, although everything was already in its 
 usual order ; his eyes were fixed and vacant as 
 though he were under the influence of a temporary 
 night-mare ; he looked dazed, and I fancy I did
 
 194 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 not look unlike him. Have I succeeded in giving 
 you an idea of this terrific, overwhelming, light- 
 ning rapidity ? The thought of our French fire- 
 engines crossed my mind, and I felt ashamed. 
 
 " ' What do you think of it ? ' asked Mr. King. 
 
 " ' I have seen many fairy pieces,' said Offen- 
 bach, who had recovered the use of speech, ' but 
 never anything to equal this.' 
 
 " Mr. King smiled. ' I am going,' he said, ( to 
 show you something better still ; come with me.' 
 "We followed him ; and having reached Madison 
 Square, he stops us in front of a tall pole. 
 
 " ' I am going to open this box,' he continued, 
 'and you, maestro, will press the knob inside, 
 which communicates with six posts or companies 
 like the one we have just left, each stationed at 
 different places the nearest about one mile, and 
 the furthest about two miles off. Prepare your 
 watches ; by pressing the knob, you will give the 
 alarm in these six posts. Are you ready ? 
 Press ! ' 
 
 " It was midnight. Many carriages were still 
 circulating through the adjacent streets. All at 
 once, and from all directions, the sound of bells
 
 THE FIREMEN OF NEW YORK. 195 
 
 is heard, accompanied by a fearful rumbling 
 noise. The carriages at once drive to one side of 
 the way ; the foot passengers stand motionless ; 
 * on al] sides is heard the cry, ' Fire ! fire ! ' 
 
 " They arrive at full speed, roaring, hissing, 
 puffing, emitting clouds of smoke and steam. 
 Firemen and engines are on hand. ' Where ? 
 Where f ' ask the men. The horses are already 
 unhitched ; the hose fast and ready. ' Where ? 
 Where ? ' A sign stops this ardor ; each one 
 returns to his post without a word of displeasure 
 or a sign of annoyance. 
 
 " ' How long ? ' asked Mr King. 
 
 " ' Four minutes and a half ! ' 
 
 " Thus, in four minutes and a half, six power- 
 ful engines were ready to pour torrents of water 
 on the threatened building ; by pressing another 
 knob, six more would have been called ; and in 
 the same manner all the engines in the city 
 would have come if necessary. 
 
 "Never, as long as I live, will -I forget the 
 emotion which I had experienced that night. 
 ' Do you wish to see anything more ? ' asked 
 Mr. King.
 
 196 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 " ' No, no, this will do ; it is too exciting.' 
 " And again I cannot help thinking of a fire in 
 Paris ; of the senseless shouts of the crowd ; of 
 the absurd little machine, with its little buckets ; 
 of those hand-engines, arriving always when the 
 evil is already past remedy ; of our brave firemen 
 running, full of ardor, it is true, but out of 
 breath, and tired out, before they have com- 
 menced their task. 
 
 u What a contrast ! All this is here, and any 
 one may come and see it. Come, Messrs. Under- 
 writers, come and see for yourselves ; you would 
 gain, and so should we, by importing this system 
 into France ; your profits would be greater, and 
 our dividends more satisfactory. Come ! a little 
 courage, a little effort against routine, and I 
 promise you that your first night in New York 
 will be as well employed as mine. . . . but, alas, 
 you will not come ! 
 
 "(Signed), BERTIE HARRIOTT." 
 
 I will add only two words to the faithful ac- 
 count which the correspondent of the Figaro has 
 given of my stupor, on witnessing the astounding
 
 THE FIREMEN OF NEW YORK. 197 
 
 agility of these American firemen. I caught 
 them just as the strokes of the gong had started 
 them from their sleep. Nothing more marvel- 
 lous than to see them slide from their beds, drop 
 into trowsers, which form one piece with their 
 boots, fasten their suspenders, put on their 
 leather helmet, and leap upon their horses 
 these men, who from sleeping soundly in their 
 beds, are transformed in the twinkling of an eye 
 into wide-awake firemen, dressed and on horse- 
 back. It was better than stage f airydom ; it was 
 real magic.
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 BANQUETS, BATON, AND BREVET. 
 
 BEFOBE leaving New York for Philadelphia I 
 gave a banquet to my orchestra. 
 
 Before giving ourselves up to the composition 
 of speeches, and enjoying the excellent cuisine 
 of the Brunswick, I received a mark of esteem 
 from my musicians, accompanied by a material 
 souvenir, both of which afforded me much grati- 
 fication. They came in a body to offer me a 
 leader's baton, which was worthy of a field-mar- 
 Bhal. This jewel is made of gutta-percha, imitat- 
 ing ebony, the two ends mounted in gold, an 
 agate set in on one side, and an amethyst on the 
 other. In the middle of the baton is a lyre of 
 massive gold, with my monogram. The musi- 
 cians presented me at the same time with the fol- 
 lowing resolutions, printed on white satin : 
 
 " At a meeting of the undersigned, members of
 
 BANQUETS, BATON, AND BREVET. 199 
 
 the orchestra playing under the direction of 
 Jacques Offenbach, at Gilmore's Garden, in this 
 city, it has been : 
 
 " Resolved, That, desirous of expressing to our 
 honored leader and friend our earnest and warm 
 appreciation of himself, since we have learnt to 
 know him, it is 
 
 "Resolved, That we tender him this baton, as a 
 testimonial of our cordial sentiments of respect 
 for his well-deserved reputation, so honorably 
 sustained here ; of our admiration for his genius, 
 his talent, and zeal in our profession, and as a 
 tribute of our affection, which he has won by the 
 excellence of all his relations with us. 
 
 "Resolved, That his constant courtesy, oblig- 
 ing disposition, amiability, and sincere friend- 
 ship, for each and all of us, have made him dear 
 to our hearts, and will always render pleasant to 
 us the memory of our connection. 
 
 "Resolved, That we offer him our sincerest 
 wishes for his prosperity and happiness ; and may 
 a success, even greater, if possible, than in the 
 past, crown his future career." 
 
 I thanked them warmly, expressing my grati-
 
 200 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 tude, and assuring them that the excellent recol- 
 lections I cherished of their talent and of their 
 sympathy would live eternally in my memory. 
 
 The following day, which was the day preced- 
 ing my departure for the Centennial City, I en- 
 tertained at dinner the literary, artistic, and 
 financial celebrities of the Imperial City. 
 
 Here is the account of this dinner, as published 
 in the Courrier des Etats- Unis. 
 
 "OFFENBACH'S DINNER. 
 
 " Few European artists have been received in 
 New York like the composer of the Grande 
 Duchesse. It must be confessed, too, that Jacques 
 Offenbach has doubtless received from the fairies 
 that precious gift, which hitherto had seemed to 
 be the exclusive privilege of twenty-dollar gold 
 pieces : he pleases everybody. The composer's 
 talent may be questioned, but no one can fail to 
 feel kindly towards the man. His cordiality, his 
 modesty, his brilliant wit, always prompt for 
 repartee, yet never departing from the laws of 
 the strictest courtesy, his unpretending affability, 
 acquire for him the friendship of all. He has
 
 BANQUET, BATON, AND BKEVET. 201 
 
 received here every homage ; he has been sur- 
 rounded with flattering attentions, entertained, 
 serenaded, and honored in every way. In return 
 for all this courtesy, he offered, on Wednesday 
 night, to the press and to a few eminent members 
 of the artistic world, a dinner, or rather a ban- 
 quet, of which the most skeptical stomachs, if not 
 the hearts, will retain an eternal memory. 
 
 " It was in the dining-saloon of the hotel Bruns- 
 wick that this charming fete took place. Repre- 
 sentatives of all branches of arts were invited ; 
 music, literature, painting, sculpture, and even 
 finance met there around the social board. 
 
 " When the exquisite cheer and delicate wines, 
 the enumeration of which would be too long 
 (besides, charity forbid us tantalizing our absent 
 friends to that extent), had raised the spirits of 
 the guests to the proper pitch, the toasts began : 
 
 " Offenbach naturally led off, opening the ball 
 in the most attractive, the most humorous, and at 
 the same time the most feeling of all speeches, 
 past, present, future ; he drank to the press, the 
 New York press, and especially to the French 
 
 press, to which he said he owed in a great 
 9*
 
 202 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 measure his success and the popularity of his 
 name. 
 
 "Mr. Fr. Schwab replied in behalf of the 
 American press, and M. Ch. Villa in that of the 
 French journals. Doctor Ruppaner captivated 
 the attention of his hearers by a brilliant address, 
 expressed in the most elegant terms. Mr. S. 
 Fiske, of the Fifth Avenue Theatre, replied in 
 behalf of the artists. M. Auguste Bartholdi, 
 author of the statue of Lafayette and of " Liberty 
 Enlightening the "World," commenced in his turn, 
 and proved that he understood the art of Demos- 
 thenes as well as that of Phidias. M. Skalkow- 
 sky, member of the Russian Commission at the 
 Exhibition, explained, in a few eloquent words, 
 spoken in the purest French, a few general and 
 generous ideas upon the relations between Europe 
 and America. 
 
 " All these orators were vehemently applauded ; 
 as to the host, sitting as grave as an Olympian 
 god upon his cloud, yet as gay as an epicurean 
 in the exercise of his functions, he faced every- 
 thing, replied to every one, and ended by propos- 
 ing a toast to Francis Kinzler, the organizer of
 
 BANQUET, BATON, AND BKEVET. 203 
 
 this exquisite and elegantly served supper. It was 
 now day-light, and the guests, seeing the sun 
 about to rise, concluded, with much satisfaction, 
 that they were as virtuous as it is possible to be 
 here below." 
 
 The next day I gave my farewell concert in 
 Gilmore's Garden, which on this occasion was 
 crowded to excess. I could see from the stage 
 nothing but a moving sea of heads. My pieces 
 were encored two, and even three times, with des- 
 perate enthusiasm. 
 
 In vain I put on my coat and hat, descended 
 from the platform, and looked beseechingly at 
 these amiable Yankees ; it was of no use. They 
 clapped their hands with frenzy ; they knocked 
 with their canes against the chairs ; they smashed 
 the benches, until I returned to my stand. Then 
 there was a roar of satisfaction for a moment, 
 after which the most perfect silence prevailed in 
 the hall during the execution of the piece. 
 
 At the close of the last piece, my orchestra 
 joined the crowd, and made the ovation more 
 overwhelming still.
 
 204 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 I was so overcome that it was with difficulty I 
 oould find words to thank these kind friends. 
 
 To the deafening hurrahs of the spectators was 
 mingled a joyous blast, spontaneously executed by 
 a number of the musicians ; whilst the violinists 
 performed the ratta by knocking with their bows 
 upon the backs of their instruments. 
 
 In the midst of this manifestation, I received, 
 from the hands of the first violinist, in the name 
 of all his associates, that famous brevet of mem- 
 bership in the association of the musicians of New 
 York which I mentioned at the commencement of 
 these remarks. 
 
 I promised then that, before my departure for 
 France, I would give a last concert for the bene- 
 fit of the association, of which I was henceforth a 
 member.
 
 CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 FABEWELL NIGHT. 
 
 ON my return from Niagara I gave the prom- 
 ised concert. The immense placards with which 
 the walls were covered announced to all that I 
 was to appear for the last time. I had never be- 
 fore seen my name under this aspect ; the letters 
 were as tall as I am and four times as broad. 
 The American public showed a due appreciation 
 of these splendid bills. Gilmore's Garden was 
 filled with the elite of New York society. The 
 moment I appeared I was hailed with cheers, 
 hurrahs, and enthusiastic applause. And they 
 say Americans are a cold-blooded people ! I 
 will spare you the particulars of that night, for 
 aside of the fact that I have sworn to speak as 
 little as possible of myself, I must confess that I 
 was so overcome by this unexpected manifestation
 
 206 OFFENBACH EST AMERICA. 
 
 that I did not very well comprehend what was 
 going on around me. 
 
 After the concert, I found with difficulty a few 
 words to repeat, once more, my thanks to my 
 musicians for the valuable assistance they had 
 given me during my visit, expressing the wish, 
 of the sincerity of which they could have no 
 doubt, that the success they so well deserved 
 might continue long after my departure. They 
 thanked me for the performance I had given 
 for the benefit of their association, and made me 
 promise to return to America in the course of 
 two or three years. I promised, as people prom- 
 ise at such times ; but, should circumstances per- 
 mit, I assure you that it would be very pleasant 
 to me to return to Yankee-land and to improve my 
 acquaintance with this marvellous country and 
 with this great people, who showed me a degree 
 of sympathy which will ever remain dear to my 
 memory.
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 HOMEWARD-BOUND. 
 
 ON the 8th July I sailed on board the Candidas 
 which, to my great satisfaction, happened to be 
 ready to leave for France at the same time as 
 myself. Many of my American friends insisted 
 upon escorting me as far as my cabin. 
 
 Shall I attempt to express, dear French reader, 
 the joy with which one treads the deck of the 
 vessel that is to take you back to your own coun- 
 try, and to restore you to those who are dearer 
 than the most dazzling success or the most numer- 
 ous dollars ? 
 
 Ah ! it would have taken a mighty large sum 
 of money to have induced me to leave this vessel ! 
 Among the passengers who were returning to 
 France with me was M. de la Forest, the French 
 Consul at New York, who was going on leave of 
 absence for a few months, on account of his
 
 208 OFFENBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 health; M. Baknutoff, Secretary of the Russian 
 Legation at Washington, a most distinguished 
 young man, who never allowed the conversation 
 to flag at the captain's table, and from whom I 
 won numerous games of bezique to while away 
 the long leisure hours of the passage. We had 
 also two doctors as passengers, Dr. Bastien and 
 Dr. Roussel, who were both ill during the pass- 
 age, a circumstance which I doubly regretted, 
 as they were both, although Republicans, genuine 
 travellers that is, men who had seen and read 
 much, and understood life thoroughly. 
 
 There was also my excellent friend, M. Bertie- 
 Marriott, correspondent of the Figaro, with 
 whom I had the pleasure of talking over the 
 various excursions we had made together in 
 America as well as of discussing the manners 
 and habits of the New World, which I was to 
 sketch after my return home. 
 
 I will also mention, while sending them my 
 kindest remembrance, should these lines ever 
 fall under their eyes, M. Glisenkeimer, an 
 American merchant, and one of the gayest of 
 polyglots ; M. Schorestene, and Mr. J. White
 
 HOMEWAKD-BOUND. 209 
 
 the latter a mulatto, who had taken the first prize 
 as violinist at the Paris Conservatoire. 
 
 The weather was splendid during the whole 
 passage, and there were only three little incidents 
 to note during the trip. The first was at the 
 moment of starting. The vessel, through the 
 carelessness of the pilot, ran against the Ame- 
 rique, another French vessel, which was to start 
 the following week. We cut a deep gash in 
 Captain Pouzolz's ship, and one of our life-boats 
 was crushed. The sinister crash, caused by the 
 collision, made a deep impression upon me. For- 
 tunately, fright was the only harm done. 
 
 The second incident was more comic than ter- 
 rible. One evening, as we were sitting in the 
 saloon, chatting and taking tea, we were surprised 
 to see a Portuguese passenger come in, dressed, or 
 rather undressed, in the costume of a baker at 
 work ; the unfortunate man was intoxicated. 
 Fortunately, there were only two or three ladies 
 on board, and, before he had time to commit any 
 excess, the purser took charge of him and led him 
 to his cabin. It seems that he had disposed that 
 evening of a whole dozen bottles of rum.
 
 210 OFFEXBACH IN AMERICA. 
 
 The third incident is so sad, and yet so ridicu- 
 lous, that I have decided, after correcting my 
 proofs, to suppress it. Perhaps I may relate it 
 at some future time ; but at the present moment 
 I should deem it a want of respect towards the 
 kind and indulgent reader to reveal to him some 
 of the sad details of life at sea. 
 
 It was half-past eight when the Canada, under 
 a radiant sun, and upon a sea whose surface was 
 as smooth as a mirror, came in sight of the lovely 
 hills of Normandy and entered the harbor of 
 Havre. 
 
 To complete my joy, my entire family and 
 many of my friends had been waiting for me for 
 hours, and all my children were waving their 
 handkerchiefs excitedly as they caught sight of 
 me on the deck. 
 
 ^j jJ was as great on again seeing my be- 
 loved family as my sorrow had been when I had 
 left them. I wept with emotion, and could 
 scarcely forbear throwing myself into the sea to 
 put an end to this agony of seeing there all that 
 was dearest to me in the world, and yet not being 
 able to clasp them to my heart.
 
 HOMEWAKD-BOUND. 211 
 
 An hour later the ship was fast at the dock, 
 and I had become once more Offenbach in 
 France. 
 
 THE END.
 
 AND NEW EDITIONS 
 
 G. W. CARLETON & Co., Publishers, 
 
 Madison Square, New York. 
 
 The Publishers, upon receipt of the price in advance, will send any book on this Catalogue 
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 All bocks in this list [unless otherwise specified] are handsomely bound in cloth board 
 binding, with gilt backs, suitable for libraries. 
 
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