Horatio Alger, his rags-to-riches message in popular bloom, had died the year before. Stephen Crane, who had seen more of the rags than the riches and had written Maggie: A Girl of the Streets, was about to die at 28. Pessimism and doubt were not hard to find on Jan 1, 1900, but the world, and especially the U.S., sided with Alger. It looked forward to the 20th Century with a degree of confidence unequaled by any previous age and unregained since. Paced fast or slow, progress was sure, limitless, irreversible. Virtue walked with progress; they fed each other.
In New York, which was to become the symbol and the power focus of the new century,* the weather on New Year's Day struck just the right note. "The snow-flakes," said the admiring Times, "were of that fine, crisp quality that lie and wear well." The snow, the prosperity of the land and the mood of the hour seemed to wipe out the black misery of preceding centuries. The worst was over; man was out of the woods.
Mercy, Truth & 2,500 Quail. William C. Browning of Browning, King & Co. said: "In nearly 50 years of business experience I don't believe I ever saw a time when prospects were so bright." In parallel vein, the Rev. Michael J. Lavelle preached at St. Patrick's upon the text: "Lord Thou hast blest Thy land: Thou hast turned away the captivity of Jacob . . . Mercy and truth have met . . . justice and peace have kissed. Truth is sprung out of the earth: and justice hath looked down from heaven."
Between spiritual and material progress the Times saw mutual support. It observed: "The finest flower that grows must strike its roots in material earth . . . The noble products of civilization spring from organized and intelligently directed industry. When men lived in caves and every head of a family had to kill his own bear or go without meat, there were no Doric temples, no Trajan columns, or Dewey arches, and no poets reciting their verses of a Summer evening."
Certainly there was no question of barehanded bear killing at the New York Athletic Club, whose 2,000 members and guests that afternoon consumed 2,500 quail, 600 partridges, several hundred grouse. The chef had also reconstructed Manila—in sugar—complete with Cavite Fort and Dewey's fleet. If, later in the evening, any of the guests "recited their verses" it was not recorded.
Marksmanship & Green Moire. New York, the youngest of the queen cities, was smug and hopeful; but Florence, the earliest capital of the modern world, was merely relieved that the 19th Century was over. Italy's nationalist rebirth had indeed been glorious. Progress was everywhere; some Florentines thought that there was too much of it. With a sigh and a shrug Florence's Corriere Italiano saw the old century off: "Tomorrow a new year begins a new century we know nothing about. It does not matter. It is a new year. That is enough."