But as soon as it was found that Shakespeare’s
house had passed into foreign hands and was going
to be carried across the ocean, England was stirred
as no appeal from the custodians of the relic had ever
stirred England before, and protests came flowing
in—and money, too, to stop the outrage.
Offers of repurchase were made—offers of
double the money that Mr. Barnum had paid for the
house. He handed the house back, but took only
the sum which it had cost him—but on the
condition that an endowment sufficient for the future
safeguarding and maintenance of the sacred relic should
be raised. This condition was fulfilled.
That was Barnum’s account of the episode; and
to the end of his days he claimed with pride and satisfaction
that not England, but America —represented
by him—saved the birthplace of Shakespeare
from destruction.
At 3 P.M., May 6th, the ship slowed down, off the
land, and thoughtfully and cautiously picked her way
into the snug harbor of Durban, South Africa.
In statesmanship get the formalities right, never
mind about the moralities.
—Pudd’nhead
Wilson’s New Calendar.
From diary:
Royal Hotel. Comfortable, good table, good service
of natives and Madrasis. Curious jumble of modern
and ancient city and village, primitiveness and the
other thing. Electric bells, but they don’t
ring. Asked why they didn’t, the watchman
in the office said he thought they must be out of
order; he thought so because some of them rang, but
most of them didn’t. Wouldn’t it
be a good idea to put them in order? He hesitated—like
one who isn’t quite sure—then conceded
the point.
May 7. A bang on the door at 6. Did I
want my boots cleaned? Fifteen minutes later
another bang. Did we want coffee? Fifteen
later, bang again, my wife’s bath ready; 15
later, my bath ready. Two other bangs; I forget
what they were about. Then lots of shouting back
and forth, among the servants just as in an Indian
hotel.
Evening. At 4 P.M. it was unpleasantly warm.
Half-hour after sunset one needed a spring overcoat;
by 8 a winter one.
Durban is a neat and clean town. One notices
that without having his attention called to it.
Rickshaws drawn by splendidly built black Zulus, so
overflowing with strength, seemingly, that it is a
pleasure, not a pain, to see them snatch a rickshaw
along. They smile and laugh and show their teeth—a
good-natured lot. Not allowed to drink; 2s per
hour for one person; 3s for two; 3d for a course—one
person.
