in the parks, it is true, but the days in which all these can be
thoroughly enjoyed, are few indeed. This English weather strikes me
as possessing the humidity of the sea-air, without its blandness. It
is too often raw, penetrating to the heart and marrow, and leaving
a consciousness of misery. The Neapolitan scirocco is scarcely
more withering.[8] In Paris the season advances more steadily
and gracefully, and there are three months of progressive, calm,
and stealthily increasing delight, until one has enjoyed all the
gradations of vegetation between the bud, the blossom, and the
leaf. With us the transitions are too rapid; in England they are
accompanied by weather that constantly causes one to dread a return
to winter.
June is _the_ month of all this part of Europe. The Parisians extol
their autumn, but it will not compare with our own. As for this
island, between the first of October and January, it ought not to be
inhabited. Nature has blessed me with a constitutional gaiety and a
buoyancy of spirits, that are not to be mastered by trifles, but I
have walked in the streets of this town, in certain conditions of the
weather, when it appeared that every one I met was ready to point his
finger at me, in mockery. At this season, in which we are now here,
the verdure, and the trees in the parks, constantly invite one to
walk, and yet there is rarely a day in which it is not pleasanter to
be on the sunny side of the street. Still I prefer the English spring
to our own, until we reach May, when, I think, we get the advantage.
Mr. McAdam, who resided seventeen years in America, says, that in New
York he was often very cold, whereas in England, he is almost always
chilled. The distinction is significant, as between the bad seasons
of the two countries.
As the town stretches along the parks, and contains so many squares,
it is possible to ride, or _drive_, two or three miles, from a
residence to Westminster-hall, without touching the stones, and
almost without losing sight of verdure. Any one can enter Hyde Park
on horseback, or in a carriage; hackney-coaches, stage-coaches, and
the common vehicles excepted. This is the place usual for taking an
airing. It is hardly necessary to say that, at certain times, the
world does not afford similar exhibitions of taste, beauty, and a
studied, but regulated magnificence, of the sort. Still carriages
and four strike me as being less frequent, now, than they were in my
youth. I think the taste for displays of this nature is lessening
in England; though, within the limits set by usage, I perceive no
falling off in the equipages, but rather an improvement in form and
lightness.
The _road_ around Regent’s Park appears open to every thing; but into
St. James’s, none but the privileged can enter except on foot. The
Green Park is exclusively for pedestrians, being little more than a
pretty and extensive play-ground for children. Kensington Gardens can
be entered by all properly dressed pedestrians.
These parks are in the custody of the crown, and the privilege of
entering St James’s, on horseback, or in a carriage, is much coveted.
Like every thing else that is exclusive, men pine to possess it. I
was told, the other day, that Lord ——, a nobleman, who in addition
to his high rank, has filled many important offices in the ministry,
cannot ride through this park, in going to or from the house, because
he has had too much self-respect to solicit the favour; and they who,
regulate the matter, are too selfish and too narrow-minded to accord
it, unasked. But this is the history of favours all over the world,
the mean and truckling always obtaining them, while they who depend
solely on their services are overlooked, unless, indeed, their names
and presence become necessary to those in power.
They have a story, here, that some man of mark, wishing to get this
privilege was denied; the friend, through whom he had preferred the
request, telling him “it was impossible to get permission for him to
go through the park, but he could have him made an Irish peer, if he
wished it.”[9]
Taking an airing, lately, with a friend, who is good authority in
these matters, as indeed he is in others of a much higher character,
he told me the following anecdote, pointing out, as we passed him,
the hero of the story. A party was riding in Hyde Park, of whom
all but one had the privilege of passing through St. James’s. The
excluded offered to take twenty guineas that he got through the
horse-guards (the place where the unprivileged are stopped), while
none of the others should. With this understanding, he boldly entered
the tabooed grounds, and rode with the rest, until he got within a
certain distance of the gate of the horse-guards. Here he trotted
ahead, and whispered the sentinel that neither of the gentlemen
coming had a right to pass, but that they intended to attempt it,
under false names, and he advised him to be on the alert. The soldier
was mystified by this communication, and suffered the rogue to go
through, while the others were stopped of course.
It is not easy to appreciate the effects that exclusion, in these
trifling matters, produces on graver things. National character
gets to be affected by such practices, which create a sort of a
dog-in-the-manger propensity. Foreigners say, and I think not without
reason, that the tone of English manners is injured by the system,
for it renders the natives insensible to the claims of humanity, and
especially to the obligations of hospitality. I have heard it said,
that Mrs. ——, the wife of an American minister, was once excluded
from a seat that was thought desirable, in a private assembly, by
women of condition, who maintained that if she were privileged at
court, she was not privileged there. The effect of all exclusiveness
in deportment, that is not founded on taste, or sentiment, is to
render people low-bred and vulgar; as the effect of all exclusiveness
in institutions, which is purely factitious, is to depress the mass
without elevating the superiors. I, myself, have seen English women
of quality spread their petticoats on a seat, when —— and —— were
approaching it, in order to prevent their obtaining places, and
manifest an alarm that was quite superfluous, as both of those whom
they wished to exclude were too much accustomed to good company, to
think of bringing themselves unnecessarily in contact with people who
betrayed so gross an ignorance of its primary laws.
“Were you at the drawing-room,” asked Sir —— ——, of me, a fortnight
since. I had not been. “You were wise, for, really, these things
occur so rarely, now, that the press is nearly insupportable. Many
were compelled to wait hours for their carriages, and some were
obliged to trudge it afoot, both going and coming.” I mentioned
that I had been told this difficulty would have been obviated by
my going through rooms less thronged. “You mean by the private
entrance.—Oh! But that is a privilege excessively difficult to
be obtained, I do assure you; Lady ——, who went that way, had to
exert all her influence; and it is a thing not to be had without a
_ridiculous degree of favour_.”—“I was told by our _chargé_ that if
I went, he would take me by some private entrance that is devoted
to the diplomatic corps. You will remember that I should have to be
presented.”—“Ah! true; in that way it might _possibly_ have been
done.” And he looked _ridiculously_ envious of a foreigner who
enjoyed this small privilege.
There is a diplomatic tradition that one of our ministers complained
to our own government, of the treatment his wife received at court
even, and a pithy anecdote is current concerning the mode in which
Mr. Jefferson avenged her. It is not easy to see in what manner a
minister can resent the slights of ordinary society; perhaps the
best method would be to send his family to Paris, where it would be
certain to meet with good breeding, at least, and ask permission to
visit it, from time to time, in a way that would leave no doubt of
the cause. But a slight that proceeded from the court, ought to be
met promptly. If a spirited remonstrance did not procure redress,
the minister should ask his recall, and assign his reason. Were such
a thing to occur once, in a case that was clear, and our government
were to decline filling the mission, because it could ask no citizen
to take a family into a country where its feelings were not properly
regarded, the principle would be settled forever. If there ever was
a nation that can afford to take high ground, in a matter like this,
it is our own; for we are above fear, have no need of favour, and
cannot accept of rewards. No people was ever more independent in its
facts; would to heaven it were equally so in its opinions! If a case
of this nature should occur, the trading part of the community would
raise an outcry, lest it should derange commerce, the administration
would probably be frightened by their clamour and the dignity of
the republic would be abandoned, although the bone and sinew of
the nation, when properly called on, would be ready and willing
to maintain it. Still the dignity and the policy of a country are
inseparable.
LETTER IX.
TO JAMES STEVENSON, ESQ.
Some favourable accidents have thrown me lately, more than I had a
right to expect, in the circumstances under which I have visited
England, into the society of the leading whigs. At dinner at Lord
Grey’s, I have met Lord Holland, Lord Lauderdale, Lord John Russell,
Lord Duncannon, Lord Althorp, Lord Durham, and many men of less note,
though all of the same way of thinking. Were it permitted to relate
what passes when one is admitted within the doors of a private house,
I could amuse you, beyond a question, by repeating the conversation
and remarks of men of whom it is matter of interest to learn any
thing authentic, but neither of us has been educated in a gossiping
school. Still, without violating propriety, I may give you some
notions of my distinguished host.
Lord Grey, notwithstanding his years, for he is no longer young,
retains much of the lightness and grace of a young man, in his form.
He is tall, well-proportioned, and I should think had once been
sufficiently athletic, and there is an expression of suavity and
kindness in his face, that report had not prepared me to see. He
struck me as being as little of an actor in society, as any public
man I have ever seen. Simple and well-bred, such a man could hardly
escape being, but in Lord Grey’s simplicity, there is a nature one
does not always meet. He is not exactly as playful as Lord Holland,
who seems to be all _bonhomie_, but he sits and smiles at the sallies
of those around him, as if he thoroughly enjoyed them. I thought
him the man of the most character in his set, though he betrayed it
quietly, naturally, and, as it were, as if he could not help it. The
tone of his mind and of his deportment was masculine. I find that
the English look upon this statesman with a little social awe, but I
have now met him several times, and have dined twice with him at his
own table, and so far from seeing, or rather _feeling_ any grounds
for such a notion, I have been in the company of no distinguished man
in Europe, so much my senior, with whom I have felt myself more at
ease, or who has appeared to me better to understand the rights of
all in a drawing-room. I can safely say that his house is one of the
very few in England, in which something has not occurred to make me
feel that I was not only a foreigner, but _an American_. Lord Grey
expressed no surprise that I spoke English, he spared me explanations
of a hundred things that are quite as well understood with us as they
are here, manifested liberality of sentiment without parade, and, on
all occasions, acted and expressed himself precisely as if he never
thought at all of national differences. His company was uniformly
good, and as it was generally composed of men of rank, perhaps I
fared all the better for the circumstance. _Castes_ have a tendency
to depress all but the privileged, and the losers are a little apt
to betray the “beggar-on-horseback” disposition, when they catch one
whom they can patronise or play upon. There was not the least of this
about the manner of Lord Grey.
You may be curious to know in what the difference consists between
the manner of living in a house like this, of which I am speaking,
and in one of our own that corresponds to it, in social position.
We have essentially larger and better houses than many of the town
residences of the English nobility. Our rooms are, however, too apt
to want height and dimension, for where we increase the number of the
apartments these people increase the size. Almost every dwelling of
any pretensions in London has a stone stair-case, and, although they
are not to be compared to those of Paris, (the few great houses here,
excepted) they give the arrangements a certain air of solidity and
richness. In the other marbles, I think, on the whole, we have the
advantage; though regular architects controlling that, which, with
us, is too often left to a mere mechanic, I should think violations
of taste and propriety do not as often occur in the domestic
ornaments of the English, as in our own.
Our old practice of having the reception rooms on the first floor,
and the dining-room below, is very general in London, the only
exceptions being in the comparatively few houses whose size admits
of rooms _en suite_. Of course the stairs are more in use here than
with us. This sadly impairs the effect, for nothing can be worse than
to be obliged to climb and descend a long narrow flight of steps, in
going to or from the table: I am wrong; it is worse to eat in a room
that is afterwards used to receive in.
The English furnish their houses essentially as ours are furnished.
French bronzes, clocks, &c., and, indeed, all continental and Chinese
ornaments are perhaps less common, but they use much more furniture.
The country practice of arranging the furniture, in a prim and
starched manner, along the walls, is, I believe, rather peculiar to
America, for both in France and England a negligent affluence of
ottomans, sofas, divans, screens and tables of all sorts, appears to
be the prevailing taste. I was lately in a drawing-room, here, in
which I counted no less than fourteen sofas, _causeuses_, _chaises
longues_, and ottomans, scattered about the room, in orderly
confusion. The ottoman appears to be almost exclusively English, for
it is rarely seen in Paris, whereas a drawing-room is seldom without
one in London. I do not remember ever to have met with one in
America, at all. In the wood and silks of furniture, think we rather
excel the English, although it is not as usual to find magnificence
of this sort, carried out with us, as it is here. Capt. Hall is
unquestionably right, when he says our mode of furnishing is naked,
compared to that of England, though the little we have is usually as
handsome as any thing here.
I have been much struck with the great number and with the excellence
of the paintings one sees in the English dwellings, for, in Paris,
a good picture is rarely to be found out of the galleries and the
palaces. I should think Rome, alone, can surpass London in this
particular.
The offices of the London residences are much more extensive than
with us, for, besides occupying a substratum of the house itself,
they quite often extend into the yard, where they are covered with a
large skylight. I am inclined to think the lodging rooms, generally,
not as good as ours. The English get along with moderately-sized
town-houses, all the better perhaps from their habits, for the young
men quit the paternal roof early, it being usual to put them on
allowances, and to let them go at large.
I have heard extraordinary things concerning the distance that is
maintained between friends in England, and the _ménagement_ that is
necessary in conducting intercourse even between the members of the
same family. One who ought to know from his official position, a
foreigner in charge of a diplomatic mission, has assured me a son
cannot presume to go unceremoniously and dine with a father, but that
invitations are always necessary, and that the forms of society are
rigidly observed between the nearest connexions. There is a secondary
and an imitative class, (in England it is very numerous) of whom I
can believe any absurdity of this nature, for they caricature usages,
breeding, forms, and even principles. These are the people who talk
about eating cheese, and drinking beer and port, and lay stress on
things insignificant in themselves, as if manners, and taste, and
elegance were not far more violated in their fussy pretensions, than
they would be in emptying one of Barclay’s big butts. In other words,
this is the silver-fork school, of whom one has heard a good deal in
America, the gentry who come among us, in common, having little other
claims to a knowledge of the world than that they have thus obtained
at second hand, as the traditions of fashion, or perhaps in the pages
of a novel.
I do not say that among the crowd of genteel vulgar that throng the
capital of a great empire like this, a pretty numerous array of silly
pretenders of this description may not be made, but it will not do
to receive these people as the head of society, or, indeed, as a
very material portion of it. As a rule, I certainly think mere drill
passes for more in London than in most other capitals. This arises,
in part, from the manner in which the whole nation is drilled, each
in his station, from the valet to the master; but, in a social sense,
chiefly, I think, because the same arbitrary distinctions do not
prevail in England as elsewhere in Europe, nobility being, in most
other countries, an indispensable requisite for admission into the
great world. Certainly, as between Paris and London, the advantage in
this particular is in favour of the former, where good sense, at all
times, appears to regulate good breeding; but, notwithstanding, I am
far from attributing to the English all the follies of this nature
that it is the fashion to impute to them.
Nothing can have been more simple and unaffected than the intercourse
between father and son, that I have witnessed here. It would be
improper for a son, having a separate establishment, to come at
unseasonable hours to the house of any father, who is in the habit of
receiving much, for it might occasion an awkward inconvenience; and
if one is bound to treat ordinary friends with this respect, still
more so is he bound to manifest the same deference to his own parents.
I have been amused in tracing the many points of resemblance that
are to be found between our own manners and those of the English. I
should say the off-hand and familiar way in which the seniors of a
family address the juniors, is one. Dining the other day with Lord
S——, who has filled high ministerial appointments, when the ladies
had retired, he said to his eldest son, a man older than I am, and
a leading member of parliament, “Jack, ring the bell.”[10] I will
not say that this is precisely American simplicity, but it is the way
your father and mine would have been very apt to speak, under the
same circumstances, and I think it is a manner which belongs to all
that portion of our people who really come of the Middle States.
Seated at a table like Lord Grey’s, with the company I met there,
I have been led to look around me, in quest of the points of
difference, by which I could have known that I was not at home.
Putting the conversation aside, for that necessarily was English
as ours would have been American, it would not have been easy to
point out any very broad distinctions. The dining-room was very much
like one of our own, in a good house. There was a side-board which
stood in a recess, with columns near it. The furniture was a little
plainer than it might be with us, for an eating-room in Europe is
seldom used for any other purpose. The form and arrangements of
the table were very like, with a slight difference in the width of
the table itself, ours, in the narrow cramped houses it is now so
much the fashion to build, usually wanting width. We dined off of
plate, a thing so rarely done in America as to form a substantial
difference. The footmen were powdered and in showy liveries, and
the butler was in black. The latter might still be seen at home, but
three or four footmen in livery, in the same house, I have never
witnessed but once. But remove the cloth, and send the servants
away, and I think any one might have been deceived. As the party
around this table was composed of men of high rank, and still higher
personal consideration, it would be unfair to compare them with the
wine-discussing, trade-talking, dollar-dollar, set that has made
an inroad upon society in our commercial towns, not half of whom
are educated, or indeed Americans; but I speak of a class vastly
superior, which you know, and which, innovated on as it is by the
social Vandals of the times, still clings to its habits and retains
much of its ancient simplicity and respectability. Between these men,
and those I have met at the table of Lord Grey, and at one or two
other houses, here, I confess I have been almost at a loss to detect
any other points of difference, than those which belong to personal
individuality.
In the phrases, the intonation of the voice, the use and
pronunciation of the words, it was not easy to detect any points
of difference, although I have watched attentively, for a whole
evening. The manner of speaking is identically the same as our own,
(I speak now of the gentlemen of the Middle States) direct, simple
and abbreviated. There is none of the pedantry of “I can not,” for
“I can’t,” “I do not,” for “I don’t,” and all those school-boy and
boarding-school affectations, by which a parade is made of one’s
orthography. These are precisely our own good old New York forms of
speech, and, knowing the associations and extraction of those who
formed the school, I have always suspected it was the best in the
country. I do not mean, however, to exclude from it the same classes
in all the other Middle States, and that portion of those in the
Southern who live much in the towns. Communion with the world is
absolutely necessary to prevent prig-ism, for one insensibly inclines
to books in a solitude, getting to be critical and fastidious about
things that are better decided by usage than by reason.
The simple and quiet manner of addressing each other that prevails
here, helps to complete the resemblance. The term “my Lord,” is
scarcely ever uttered. I do not think that I have heard it used by
gentlemen, six times since I have been in London, though the servants
and all of the inferior classes never neglect it. I should say the
term “my lady,” is absolutely proscribed in society. I have heard it
but three times, since I have been in Europe, although one scarcely
sees less of the titled English in Paris, than in London. These
three cases are worth remembering, since they mark three different
degrees of manners. It was used, or rather the phrase “your ladyship”
was used by Sir —— ——, a physician, who evidently wanted the tone
of one accustomed to associate with equals. It was used by Mrs. ——,
an American (we are a little apt to be _ultra_ in such things) at
Paris, and I saw a daughter of “my lady” turn her head to conceal a
smile. Thirdly, and lastly, it was used by Sir —— ——, a dashing young
baronet, to Lady —— ——, in a sort of playful emphasis, as we should
dwell on official appellations, in grave and sounding pleasantry.
Of course, there is more or less of fashion in all this; nor should I
be surprised, ten years hence, to find it indispensable to breeding,
to be punctilious the other way; so much depends on the mode of doing
these things, that any custom of this nature can be brought into
vogue, or be condemned. Still, there is so much inherent good taste
in simplicity, that, I think, no very laboured exhibitions of the
sort, can ever long maintain themselves.