Chapter XXXII

_The "XIXth Century Club."--Intellectual Activity.--Literary
Evenings.--Light Everywhere._

To show the point to which intellectual activity goes in America, I cannot do better than speak of the "XIXth Century Club."

Two or three years ago, Mr. Courtlandt Palmer,[14] one of the principal inhabitants of New York--a gentleman as rich in intellectual attainments as in dollars--conceived the happy idea of inviting his friends to meet twice a month in his drawing-room, for the purpose of discussing the important questions of the day. His invitation was accepted with alacrity; and thus the club, which consists of lady members as well as gentlemen, was formed.

[14] It is with deep sorrow that I learn, while writing these
lines, of the death of Mr. Courtlandt Palmer, to whom I
owe many charming hours spent in New York.

Nothing is more interesting than these meetings; nothing, at all events, left a deeper or more pleasurable impression upon me than these intellectual treats. Papers upon some question--political, scientific, literary, or artistic--are read, and followed by debates.

The reunions were so much enjoyed that the number of the members soon increased rapidly, and it became necessary to hire a public room for their accommodation. So great is the present popularity of the club, and so great the demand for admission to membership, that every few months a larger room is needed to hold all these people eager to enlighten themselves on the questions of the day which interest the thinking world.

The association proceeds in a manner as simple as it is practical.

Is it decided to pass an evening in discussing Socialism, for instance? The President invites a well-known Socialist to come and explain his views before the members of the club; he invites also an anti-Socialist of talent to answer him.

The XIXth Century Club opens its doors, as the _North American Review_ does its columns, to all new ideas anxious to pierce through to the light.

One evening, last winter, was devoted to the discussion of Sectarianism. The President of the Club invited a Catholic priest, an Episcopalian and a Presbyterian minister, a Unitarian and, unless my memory misleads me, an agnostic. All were listened to attentively, and each had his harvest of applause.

Another night, the subject chosen was, "The Triumph of Democracy." The first orator, Mr. Andrew Carnegie, set forth that everything is for the best in that best of Democracies, the American one. The second, on the contrary, brought forward much eloquence and many figures to prove that the governmental system of America was worthless and rotten.

Mr. Carnegie, having gone from Scotland to America with the traditional half-crown in his pocket, and, by his talents and industry, become one of the richest men in the United States, it was quite natural to see him standing up for the American institutions, and waxing eloquent over the superiority of America to the rest of the world.

Thanks to their vivacity of mind, the Americans have a special talent for making the most arid subjects interesting. All these debates are enlivened with humorous remarks, anecdotes, flashes of wit, and clever repartees. Needless to say that they are conducted with the utmost courtesy. The most trenchant weapons employed at these tournaments are sarcasm and banter, and the Americans are adept in the use of both.

In America, such is the respect for the opinions of others, that the wildest, most incongruous, ideas did not raise a murmur: the audience would smile and seem to say, "What a droll idea!" and if the droll idea was expressed wittily, the orator was applauded.

In the course of a debate upon "International Copyright," I remember hearing one American calmly express the opinion that authors have no right to their own ideas, and that therefore they have no right to any remuneration for their work. He developed this strange statement with a great deal of cleverness, and at the end of his discourse was greeted with a round of applause as hearty as it was ironical.

All this is highly amusing; but, at the same time, how edifying and interesting!

As soon as the debates are over, the audience repair to an adjoining room for refreshments, and to criticise the opinions advanced during the evening. The meeting turns into a conversazione, or a reception, at which the President's wife does the honours.

I saw nothing more striking during my stay in America--nothing which appeared to me more hopeful for the future of the country--than the sight of these crowds of four or five hundred people--old men and young, young girls and matrons, all in fashionable evening dress--met together to learn something, and to keep themselves posted up in all the new ideas of the day.

I have heard young ladies read papers of their own composition at these meetings, and their discourses were as clever as those of their gentlemen antagonists.

In New York alone, there exist many other societies of the same kind. Among others, I might name the "Twilight Club." The members meet twice a month for dinner. At dessert, instead of smoking-room or boudoir stories, some subject of general interest, decided upon by the President of the Club at the preceding meeting, is talked over, each member giving separately his own ideas on the subject under discussion. For the evening on which I had the pleasure of dining with the club, the chosen subject was, "Which are the books that have influenced you?" The evening at an end, it was decided that the topic for the next meeting should be, "Which are the ideas that have helped you?"

I might name several other clubs, such as the "Drawing-room Club," the "Thursday Club."

In short, what strikes one is the all-pervading activity, the intellectual life led by women of good society as well as men.

Impossible that Truth should hide her face in a country where there is such a flood of light.