THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
Astor House to the Cooper Institute, Governor Morgan, with whom I drove, asked me how long I expected to speak. I answered: “About two hours and a half.” “Good heavens!” exclaimed the Governor. “No New York audience will stand a speech as long as that!” He seemed to be seriously alarmed. I explained to him that the speech I was prepared to make was a connected argument which I had to present to the public in its entirety or not at all, and that, therefore, if I could not be permitted to deliver the whole of it, some excuse must be found for my not speaking at all that evening. The Governor seemed much distressed. At last he submitted, but with the air of one who was resolved to meet an inevitable disaster with fortitude.
The great hall of the Cooper Institute was crowded to suffocation, the atmosphere of the assemblage proved thoroughly sympathetic, and I not only held my audience but achieved that night, as a “stump-speaker,” the greatest success of my career. The bursts of applause and laughter were such that, now and then, I had to stop for minutes at a time. The face of Governor Morgan, who sat near me, lost its anxious gloom and grew brighter and brighter as I went on to my second and even to my third hour. On one of the seats of the front row I noticed an old gentleman with flowing white hair and large spectacles, who held an umbrella in his hand. At first he looked rather drowsy, but gradually he seemed to wake up and his face beamed with pleasure. He joined in the general applause by pounding with his umbrella on the floor, at first gently, and then with constantly increasing violence. I was not half through with my speech when the ferrule of the old gentleman's umbrella broke. But that did not disturb him in the least. In his enthusiasm he continued to pound the floor with all his strength. At last the stick of the umbrella went to pieces,
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