In placing the lecture before the public in print, it is impossible, by having recourse to any system of punctuation, to indicate the pauses, jerky emphases, and odd inflexions of voice which characterised the delivery.The reporter of the Standard newspaper, describing his first lecture in London, aptly said: "Artemus dropped his jokes faster than the meteors of last night succeeded each other in the sky.And there was this resemblance between the flashes of his humour and the flights of the meteors, that in each case one looked for jokes or meteors, but they always came just in the place that one least expected to find them.Half the enjoyment of the evening lay, to some of those present, in listening to the hearty cachinnation of the people who only found out the jokes some two or three minutes after they were made, and who then laughed apparently at some grave statements of fact.Reduced to paper, the showman's jokes are certainly not brilliant; almost their whole effect lies in their seemingly impromptu character.They are carefully led up to, of course; but they are uttered as if they are mere afterthoughts, of which the speaker is hardly sure." Herein the writer in the Standard hits the most marked peculiarity of Artemus Ward's style of lecturing.His affectation of not knowing what he was uttering, his seeming fits of abstraction, and his grave, melancholy aspect, constituted the very cream of the entertainment.Occasionally he would amuse himself in an apparently meditative mood, by twirling his little riding-whip, or by gazing earnestly, but with affected admiration, at his panorama.At the Egyptian Hall his health entirely failed him, and he would occasionally have to use a seat during the course of the lecture.In the notes which follow I have tried, I know how inefficiently, to convey here and there an idea of how Artemus rendered his lecture amusing by gesture or action.Ihave also, at the request of the publisher, made a few explanatory comments on the subject of our Mormon trip.In so doing I hope that I have not thrust myself too prominently forward, nor been too officious in my explanations.My aim has been to add to the interest of the lecture with those who never heard it delivered, and to revive in the memory of those who did some of its notable peculiarities.The illustrations are from photographs of the panorama painted in America for Artemus, as the pictorial portion of his entertainment.
In the lecture is the fun of the journey.For the hard facts the reader in quest of information is referred to a book published previously to the lecturer's appearance at the Egyptian Hall, the title of which is, "Artemus Ward: His Travels among the Mormons."Much against the grain as it was for Artemus to be statistical, he has therein detailed some of the experiences of his Mormon trip, with due regard to the exactitude and accuracy of statement expected by information-seeking readers in a book of travels.He was not precisely the sort of traveller to write a paper for the evening meetings of the Royal Geographical Society, nor was he sufficiently interested in philosophical theories to speculate on the developments of Mormonism as illustrative of the history of religious belief.We were looking out of the window of the Salt Lake House one morning, when Brigham Young happened to pass down the opposite side of Main Street.It was cold weather, and the prophet was clothed in a thick cloak of some green-colored material.Iremarked to Artemus that Brigham had seemingly compounded Mormonism from portions of a dozen different creeds; and that in selecting green for the color of his apparel, he was imitating Mahomet."Has it not struck you," I observed, "that Swedenborgianism and Mahometanism are oddly blended in the Mormon faith?""Petticoatism and plunder," was Artemus's reply--and that comprehended his whole philosophy of Mormonism.As he remarked elsewhere: "Brigham Young is a man of great natural ability.If you ask me, How pious is he? I treat it as a conundrum, and give it up."To lecture in London, and at the Egyptian Hall, had long been a favourite idea of Artemus Ward.Some humorist has said, that "All good Americans, when they die--, go to Paris." So do most, whether good or bad, while they are living.
Still more strongly developed is the transatlantic desire to go to Rome.In the far west of the Missouri, in the remoter west of Colorado and away in far north-western Oregon, I have heard many a tradesman express his intention to make dollars enough to enable him to visit Rome.In a land where all is so new, where they have had no past, where an old wall would be a sensation, and a tombstone of anybody's great grandfather the marvel of the whole region, the charms of the old world have an irresistible fascination.To visit the home of the Caesars they have read of in their school-books, and to look at architecture which they have seen pictorially, but have nothing like it in existence around them, is very naturally the strong wish of people who are nationally nomadic, and who have all more or less a smattering of education.Artemus Ward never expressed to me any very great wish to travel on the European continent, but to see London was to accomplish something which he had dreamed of from his boyhood.There runs from Marysville in California to Oroville in the same State a short and singular little railway, which, when we were there, was in a most unfinished condition.To Oroville we were going.We were too early for the train at the Marysville station, and sat down on a pile of timber to chat over future prospects.
"What sort of a man was Albert Smith?" asked Artemus "And do you think that the Mormons would be as good a subject for the Londoners as Mont Blanc was?"I answered his questions.He reflected for a few moments, and then said:
"Well, old fellow, I'll tell you what I should like to do.I should like to go to London and give my lecture in the same place.Can it be done?"It was done.Not in the same room, but under the same roof and on the same floor; in that gloomy-looking Hall in Piccadilly, which was destined to be the ante-chamber to the tomb of both lecturers.
Throughout this brief sketch I have written familiarly of the late Mr.Charles F.Browne as "Artemus Ward," or simply as "Artemus." Ihave done so advisedly, mainly because, during the whole course of our acquaintance, I do not remember addressing him as "Mr.Browne,"or by his real Christian name.To me he was always "Artemus"--Artemus the kind, the gentle, the suave, the generous.One who was ever a friend in the fullest meaning of the word, and the best of companions in the amplest acceptance of the phrase.His merry laugh and pleasant conversation are as audible to me as if they were heard but yesterday; his words of kindness linger on the ear of memory, and his tones of genial mirth live in echoes which I shall listen to for evermore.Two years will soon have passed away since last he spoke, and "Silence now, enamour'd of his voice Looks its mute music in her rugged cell."E.P.HINGSTON.
LONDON, October 1868.
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ARTEMUS WARD.
