“Well, no—I thought—”
“It’s a big mistake. It’s
the biggest mistake you ever made. You see that
in your own case. A man ought always to have
a trade to fall back on. Now, I was harness-maker
at first. Did that prevent me from becoming
one of the biggest brewers in America? Oh no.
I always had the harness trick to fall back on in
rough weather. Now, if you had learned how to
make harness—However, it’s too late
now; too late. But it’s no good plan to
cry over spilt milk. But as to the boys, you
see—what’s to become of them if anything
happens to you?”
“It has been my idea to let the eldest one succeed
me—”
“Oh, come! Suppose the firm don’t
want him?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but—”
“Now, look here; you want to get right down
to business and stop dreaming. You are capable
of immense things—man. You can make
a perfect success in life. All you want is somebody
to steady you and boost you along on the right road.
Do you own anything in the business?”
“No—not exactly; but if I continue
to give satisfaction, I suppose I can keep my—”
“Keep your place—yes. Well,
don’t you depend on anything of the kind.
They’ll bounce you the minute you get a little
old and worked out; they’ll do it sure.
Can’t you manage somehow to get into the firm?
That’s the great thing, you know.”
“I think it is doubtful; very doubtful.”
“Um—that’s bad—yes,
and unfair, too. Do you suppose that if I should
go there and have a talk with your people—Look
here—do you think you could run a brewery?”
“I have never tried, but I think I could do
it after a little familiarity with the business.”
The German was silent for some time. He did
a good deal of thinking, and the king waited curiously
to see what the result was going to be. Finally
the German said:
“My mind’s made up. You leave that
crowd—you’ll never amount to anything
there. In these old countries they never give
a fellow a show. Yes, you come over to America—come
to my place in Rochester; bring the family along.
You shall have a show in the business and the foremanship,
besides. George—you said your name
was George?—I’ll make a man of you.
I give you my word. You’ve never had a chance
here, but that’s all going to change. By
gracious! I’ll give you a lift that’ll
make your hair curl!”
Bayreuth, Aug. 2d, 1891
It was at Nuremberg that we struck the inundation
of music-mad strangers that was rolling down upon
Bayreuth. It had been long since we had seen
such multitudes of excited and struggling people.
It took a good half-hour to pack them and pair them
into the train—and it was the longest train
we have yet seen in Europe. Nuremberg had been
witnessing this sort of experience a couple of times
a day for about two weeks. It gives one an impressive
sense of the magnitude of this biennial pilgrimage.
For a pilgrimage is what it is. The devotees
come from the very ends of the earth to worship their
prophet in his own Kaaba in his own Mecca.
