One sultry morning, I was sitting with a friend, who was giving me all

manner of information about her husband's slaves, both in the field and

house; how she fed and clothed them; what indulgences they were allowed;

what their respective capabilities were; and so forth. While we were

talking, one of the house-slaves passed us. I observed that she appeared

superior to all the rest; to which my friend assented. "She is A.'s

wife?" said I. "We call her A.'s wife, but she has never been married

to him. A. and she came to my husband, five years ago, and asked him to

let them marry: but he could not allow it, because he had not made up

his mind whether to sell A.; and he hates parting husband and wife."

"How many children have they?" "Four." "And they are not married yet?"

"No; my husband has never been able to let them marry. He certainly will

not sell her: and he has not determined yet whether he shall sell A."

Another friend told me the following story. B. was the best slave in her

husband's possession. B. fell in love with C., a pretty girl, on a

neighbouring estate, who was purchased to be B.'s wife. C.'s temper was

jealous and violent; and she was always fancying that B. showed

attention to other girls. Her master warned her to keep her temper, or

she should be sent away. One day, when the master was dining out, B.

came to him, trembling, and related that C. had, in a fit of jealousy,

aimed a blow at his head with an axe, and nearly struck him. The master

went home, and told C. that her temper could no longer be borne with,

and she must go. He offered her the choice of being sold to a trader,

and carried to New Orleans, or of being sent to field labour on a

distant plantation. She preferred being sold to the trader; who broke

his promise of taking her to New Orleans, and disposed of her to a

neighbouring proprietor. C. kept watch over her husband, declaring that

she would be the death of any girl whom B. might take to wife. "And so,"

said my informant, "poor B. was obliged to walk about in single

blessedness for some time; till, last summer, happily, C. died."--"Is it

possible," said I, "that you pair and part these people like

brutes?"--The lady looked surprised, and asked what else could be done.

One day at dinner, when two slaves were standing behind our chairs, the

lady of the house was telling me a ludicrous story, in which a former

slave of hers was one of the personages, serving as a butt on the

question of complexion. She seemed to recollect that slaves were

listening; for she put in, "D. was an excellent boy," (the term for male

slaves of every age.) "We respected him very highly as an excellent boy.

We respected him almost as much as if he had been a white. But, &c.----"

A southern lady, of fair reputation for refinement and cultivation, told

the following story in the hearing of a company, among whom were some

friends of mine. She spoke with obvious unconsciousness that she was

saying anything remarkable: indeed such unconsciousness was proved by

her telling the story at all. She had possessed a very pretty mulatto

girl, of whom she declared herself fond. A young man came to stay at her

house, and fell in love with the girl. "She came to me," said the lady,

"for protection; which I gave her." The young man went away, but after

some weeks, returned, saying he was so much in love with the girl that

he could not live without her. "I pitied the young man," concluded the

lady; "so I sold the girl to him for 1,500 dollars."

I repeatedly heard the preaching of a remarkably liberal man, of a free

and kindly spirit, in the south. His last sermon, extempore, was from

the text "Cast all your care upon him, for He careth for you." The

preacher told us, among other things, that God cares for all,--for the

meanest as well as the mightiest. "He cares for that coloured person,"

said he, pointing to the gallery where the people of colour sit,--"he

cares for that coloured person as well as for the wisest and best of you

whites." This was the most wanton insult I had ever seen offered to a

human being; and it was with difficulty that I refrained from walking

out of the church. Yet no one present to whom I afterwards spoke of it

seemed able to comprehend the wrong. "Well!" said they: "does not God

care for the coloured people?"

Of course, in a society where things like these are said and done by its

choicest members, there is a prevalent unconsciousness of the existing

wrong. The daily and hourly plea is of good intentions towards the

slaves; of innocence under the aspersions of foreigners. They are as

sincere in the belief that they are injured as their visitors are

cordial in their detestation of the morals of slavery. Such

unconsciousness of the milder degrees of impurity and injustice as

enables ladies and clergymen of the highest character to speak and act

as I have related, is a sufficient evidence of the prevalent grossness

of morals. One remarkable indication of such blindness was the almost

universal mention of the state of the Irish to me, as a worse case than

American slavery. I never attempted, of course, to vindicate the state

of Ireland: but I was surprised to find no one able, till put in the

way, to see the distinction between political misgovernment and personal

slavery: between exasperating a people by political insult, and

possessing them, like brutes, for pecuniary profit. The unconsciousness

of guilt is the worst of symptoms, where there are means of light to be

had. I shall have to speak hereafter of the state of religion throughout

the country. It is enough here to say that if, with the law of liberty

and the gospel of peace and purity within their hands, the inhabitants

of the south are unconscious of the low state of the morals of society,

such blindness proves nothing so much as how far that which is highest

and purest may be confounded with what is lowest and foulest, when once

the fatal attempt has been entered upon to make them co-exist. From

their co-existence, one further step may be taken; and in the south has

been taken; the making the high and pure a sanction for the low and

foul. Of this, more hereafter.

The degradation of the women is so obvious a consequence of the evils

disclosed above, that the painful subject need not be enlarged on. By

the degradation of women, I do not mean to imply any doubt of the purity

of their manners. There are reasons, plain enough to the observer, why

their manners should be even peculiarly pure. They are all married

young, from their being out-numbered by the other sex: and there is ever

present an unfortunate servile class of their own sex to serve the

purposes of licentiousness, so as to leave them untempted. Their

degradation arises, not from their own conduct, but from that of all

other parties about them. Where the generality of men carry secrets

which their wives must be the last to know; where the busiest and more

engrossing concerns of life must wear one aspect to the one sex, and

another to the other, there is an end to all wholesome confidence and

sympathy, and woman sinks to be the ornament of her husband's house, the

domestic manager of his establishment, instead of being his

all-sufficient friend. I am speaking not only of what I suppose must

necessarily be; but of what I have actually seen. I have seen, with

heart-sorrow, the kind politeness, the gallantry, so insufficient to the

loving heart, with which the wives of the south are treated by their

husbands. I have seen the horror of a woman's having to work,--to exert

the faculties which her Maker gave her;--the eagerness to ensure her

unearned ease and rest; the deepest insult which can be offered to an

intelligent and conscientious woman. I know the tone of conversation

which is adopted towards women; different in its topics and its style

from that which any man would dream of offering to any other man. I

have heard the boast of the chivalrous consideration in which women are

held throughout their woman's paradise; and seen something of the

anguish of crushed pride, of the conflict of bitter feelings with which

such boasts have been listened to by those whose aspirations teach them

the hollowness of the system. The gentlemen are all the while unaware

that women are not treated in the best possible manner among them: and

they will remain thus blind as long as licentious intercourse with the

lowest of the sex unfits them for appreciating the highest. Whenever

their society shall take rank according to moral rather than physical

considerations; whenever they shall rise to crave sympathy in the real

objects of existence; whenever they shall begin to inquire what human

life is, and wherefore, and to reverence it accordingly, they will

humble themselves in shame for their abuse of the right of the

strongest; for those very arrangements and observances which now

constitute their boast. A lady who, brought up elsewhere to use her own

faculties, and employ them on such objects as she thinks proper, and who

has more knowledge and more wisdom than perhaps any gentleman of her

acquaintance, told me of the disgust with which she submits to the

conversation which is addressed to her, under the idea of being fit for

her; and how she solaces herself at home, after such provocation, with

the silent sympathy of books. A father of promising young daughters,

whom he sees likely to be crushed by the system, told me, in a tone of

voice which I shall never forget, that women there might as well be

turned into the street, for anything they are fit for. There are

reasonable hopes that his children may prove an exception. One gentleman

who declares himself much interested in the whole subject, expresses his

horror of the employment of women in the northern States, for useful

purposes. He told me that the same force of circumstances which, in the

region he inhabits, makes men independent, increases the dependence of

women, and will go on to increase it. Society is there, he declared,

"always advancing towards orientalism." "There are but two ways in which

woman can be exercised to the extent of her powers; by genius and by

calamity, either of which may strengthen her to burst her conventional

restraints. The first is too rare a circumstance to afford any basis for

speculation: and may Heaven avert the last!" O, may Heaven hasten it!

would be the cry of many hearts, if these be indeed the conditions of

woman's fulfilling the purposes of her being. There are, I believe, some

who would scarcely tremble to see their houses in flames, to hear the

coming tornado, to feel the threatening earthquake, if these be indeed

the messengers who must open their prison doors, and give their

heaven-born spirits the range of the universe. God has given to them the

universe, as to others: man has caged them in one corner of it, and

dreads their escape from their cage, while man does that which he would

not have woman hear of. He puts genius out of sight, and deprecates

calamity. He has not, however, calculated all the forces in nature. If

he had, he would hardly venture to hold either negroes or women as

property, or to trust to the absence of genius and calamity.

One remarkable warning has been vouchsafed to him. A woman of strong

mind, whose strenuous endeavours to soften the woes of slavery to her

own dependents, failed to satisfy her conscience and relieve her human

affections, her shaken the blood-slaked dust from her feet, and gone to

live where every man can call himself his own: and not only to live, but

to work there, and to pledge herself to death, if necessary, for the

overthrow of the system which she abhors in proportion to her

familiarity with it. Whether we are to call her Genius or Calamity, or

by her own honoured name of Angelina Grimke, certain it is that she is

rousing into life and energy many women who were unconscious of genius,

and unvisited by calamity, but who carry honest and strong human hearts.

This lady may ere long be found to have materially checked the "advance

towards orientalism."

Of course, the children suffer, perhaps the most fatally of all, under

the slave system. What can be expected from little boys who are brought

up to consider physical courage the highest attribute of manhood; pride

of section and of caste its loftiest grace; the slavery of a part of

society essential to the freedom of the rest; justice of less account

than generosity; and humiliation in the eyes of men the most intolerable

of evils? What is to be expected of little girls who boast of having got

a negro flogged for being impertinent to them, and who are surprised at

the "ungentlemanly" conduct of a master who maims his slave? Such

lessons are not always taught expressly. Sometimes the reverse is

expressly taught. But this is what the children in a slave country

necessarily learn from what passes around them; just as the plainest

girls in a school grow up to think personal beauty the most important of

all endowments, in spite of daily assurances that the charms of the mind

are all that are worth regarding.

The children of slave countries learn more and worse still. It is nearly

impossible to keep them from close intercourse with the slaves; and the

attempt is rarely made. The generality of slaves are as gross as the

total absence of domestic sanctity might be expected to render them.

They do not dream of any reserves with children. The consequences are

inevitable. The woes of mothers from this cause are such that, if this

"peculiar domestic institution" were confided to their charge, I believe

they would accomplish its overthrow with an energy and wisdom that would

look more like inspiration than orientalism. Among the incalculable

forces in nature is the grief of mothers weeping for the corruption of

their children.

One of the absolutely inevitable results of slavery is a disregard of

human rights; an inability even to comprehend them. Probably the

southern gentry, who declare that the presence of slavery enhances the

love of freedom; that freedom can be duly estimated only where a

particular class can appropriate all social privileges; that, to use the

words of one of them, "they know too much of slavery to be slaves

themselves," are sincere enough in such declarations; and if so, it

follows that they do not know what freedom is. They may have the benefit

of the alternative,--of not knowing what freedom is, and being sincere;

or of knowing what freedom is, and not being sincere. I am disposed to

think that the first is the more common case.

One reason for my thinking so is, that I usually found in conversation

in the south, that the idea of human rights was--sufficient subsistence

in return for labour. This was assumed as the definition of human rights

on which we were to argue the case of the slave. When I tried the

definition by the golden rule, I found that even that straight, simple

rule had become singularly bent in the hands of those who profess to

acknowledge and apply it. A clergyman preached from the pulpit the

following application of it, which is echoed unhesitatingly by the most

religious of the slave-holders:--"Treat your slaves as you would wish to

be treated if you were a slave yourself." I verily believe that

hundreds, or thousands, do not see that this is not an honest

application of the rule; so blinded are they by custom to the fact that

the negro is a man and a brother.

Another of my reasons for supposing that the gentry of the south do not

know what freedom is, is that many seem unconscious of the state of

coercion in which they themselves are living; coercion, not only from

the incessant fear of which I have before spoken,--a fear which haunts

their homes, their business, and their recreations; coercion, not only

from their fear, and from their being dependent for their hourly

comforts upon the extinguished or estranged will of those whom they have

injured; but coercion also from their own laws. The laws against the

press are as peremptory as in the most despotic countries of Europe:[18]

as may be seen in the small number and size, and poor quality, of the

newspapers of the south. I never saw, in the rawest villages of the

youngest States, newspapers so empty and poor as those of New Orleans.

It is curious that, while the subject of the abolition of slavery in the

British colonies was necessarily a very interesting one throughout the

southern States, I met with planters who did not know that any

compensation had been paid by the British nation to the West Indian

proprietors. The miserable quality of the southern newspapers, and the

omission from them of the subjects on which the people most require

information, will go far to account for the people's delusions on their

own affairs, as compared with those of the rest of the world, and for

their boasts of freedom, which probably arise from their knowing of none

which is superior. They see how much more free they are than their own

slaves; but are not generally aware what liberty is where all are free.

In 1834, the number of newspapers was, in the State of New York, 267; in

Louisiana, 31; in Massachusetts, 108; in South Carolina, 19; in

Pennsylvania, 220; in Georgia, 29.

What is to be thought of the freedom of gentlemen subject to the

following law? "Any person or persons who shall attempt to teach any

free person of colour, or slave, to spell, read, or write, shall, upon

conviction thereof by indictment, be fined in a sum not less than two

hundred and fifty dollars, nor more than five hundred dollars."[19]

What is to be thought of the freedom of gentlemen who cannot emancipate

their own slaves, except by the consent of the legislature; and then

only under very strict conditions, which make the deed almost

impracticable? It has been mentioned that during a temporary suspension

of the laws against emancipation in Virginia, 10,000 slaves were freed

in nine years; and that, as the institution seemed in peril, the masters

were again coerced. It is pleaded that the masters themselves were the

repealers and re-enactors of these laws. True: and thus it appears that

they thought it necessary to deprive each other of a liberty which a

great number seem to have made use of themselves, while they could. No

high degree of liberty, or of the love of it, is to be seen here. The

laws which forbid emancipation are felt to be cruelly galling,

throughout the south. I heard frequent bitter complaints of them. They

are the invariable plea urged by individuals to excuse their continuing

to hold slaves. Such individuals are either sincere in these complaints,

or they are not. If they are not, they must be under some deplorable

coercion which compels so large a multitude to hypocrisy. If they are

sincere, they possess the common republican means of getting tyrannical

laws repealed: and why do they not use them? If these laws are felt to

be oppressive, why is no voice heard denouncing them in the

legislatures? If men complainingly, but voluntarily, submit to laws

which bind the conscience, little can be said of their love of liberty.

If they submit involuntarily, nothing can be said for their possession

of it.

What, again, is to be thought of the freedom of citizens who are liable

to lose caste because they follow conscience in a case where the

perversity of the laws places interest on the side of conscience, and

public opinion against it? I will explain. In a southern city, I saw a

gentleman who appeared to have all the outward requisites for commanding

respect. He was very wealthy, had been governor of the State, and was an

eminent and peculiar benefactor to the city. I found he did not stand

well. As some pains were taken to impress me with this, I inquired the

cause. His character was declared to be generally good. I soon got at

the particular exception, which I was anxious to do only because I saw

that it was somehow of public concern. While this gentleman was

governor, there was an insurrection of slaves. His own slaves were

accused. He did not believe them guilty, and refused to hang them. This

was imputed to an unwillingness to sacrifice his property. He was thus

in a predicament which no one can be placed in, except where man is held

as property. He must either hang his slaves, believing them innocent,

and keep his character; or he must, by saving their lives, lose his own

character. How the case stood with this gentleman, is fully known only

to his own heart. His conduct claims the most candid construction. But,

this being accorded as his due, what can be thought of the freedom of a

republican thus circumstanced?

Passing over the perils, physical and moral, in which those are involved

who live in a society where recklessness of life is treated with

leniency, and physical courage stands high in the list of virtues and

graces,--perils which abridge a man's liberty of action and of speech in

a way which would be felt to be intolerable if the restraint were not

adorned by the false name of Honour,--it is only necessary to look at

the treatment of the abolitionists by the south, by both legislatures

and individuals, to see that no practical understanding of liberty

exists there.

Upon a mere vague report, or bare suspicion, persons travelling through

the south have been arrested, imprisoned, and, in some cases, flogged or

otherwise tortured, on pretence that such persons desired to cause

insurrection among the slaves. More than one innocent person has been

hanged; and the device of terrorism has been so practised as to deprive

the total number of persons who avowedly hold a certain set of opinions,

of their constitutional liberty of traversing the whole country. It was

declared by some liberal-minded gentlemen of South Carolina, after the

publication of Dr. Channing's work on Slavery, that if Dr. Channing were

to enter South Carolina with a body-guard of 20,000 men, he could not

come out alive. I have seen the lithographic prints, transmitted in

letters to abolitionists, representing the individual to whom the letter

was sent hanging on a gallows. I have seen the hand-bills, purporting to

be issued by Committees of Vigilance, offering enormous rewards for the

heads, or for the ears, of prominent abolitionists.

If it be said that these acts are attributable to the ignorant wrath of

individuals only, it may be asked whence arose the Committees of

Vigilance, which were last year sitting throughout the south and west,

on the watch for any incautious person who might venture near them, with

anti-slavery opinions in his mind? How came it that high official

persons sat on these committees? How is it that some governors of

southern States made formal application to governors of the northern

States to procure the dispersion of anti-slavery societies, the

repression of discussion, and the punishment of the promulgators of

abolition opinions? How is it that the governor of South Carolina last

year recommended the summary execution, without benefit of clergy, of

all persons caught within the limits of the State, holding avowed

anti-slavery opinions; and that every sentiment of the governor's was

endorsed by a select committee of the legislature?

All this proceeds from an ignorance of the first principles of liberty.

It cannot be from a mere hypocritical disregard of such principles; for

proud men, who boast a peculiar love of liberty and aptitude for it,

would not voluntarily make themselves so ridiculous as they appear by

these outrageous proceedings. Such blustering is so hopeless, and, if

not sincere, so purposeless, that no other supposition is left than that

they have lost sight of the fundamental principles of both their federal

and State constitutions, and do now actually suppose that their own

freedom lies in crushing all opposition to their own will. No pretence

of evidence has been offered of any further offence against them than

the expression of obnoxious opinions. There is no plea that any of their

laws have been violated, except those recently enacted to annihilate

freedom of speech and the press: laws which can in no case be binding

upon persons out of the limits of the States for which these new laws

are made.

The amended constitution of Virginia, of 1830, provides that the

legislature shall not pass "any law abridging the freedom of speech or

of the press." North and South Carolina and Georgia decree that the

freedom of the press shall be preserved inviolate; the press being the

grand bulwark of liberty. The constitution of Louisiana declares that

"the free communication of thoughts and opinions is one of the

invaluable rights of man; and every citizen may freely speak, write, and

print, on any subject, being responsible for the abuse of that liberty."

The Declaration of Rights of Mississippi declares that "no law shall

ever be passed to curtail or restrain the liberty of speech, and of the

press." The constitutions of all the slave States contain declarations

and provisions like these. How fearfully have the descendants of those

who framed them degenerated in their comprehension and practice of

liberty, violating both the spirit and the letter of their original Bill

of Rights! They are not yet fully aware of this. In the calmer times

which are to come, they will perceive it, and look back with amazement

upon the period of desperation, when not a voice was heard, even in the

legislatures, to plead for human rights; when, for the sake of one

doomed institution, they forgot what their fathers had done, fettered

their own presses, tied their own hands, robbed their fellow-citizens

of their right of free travelling, and did all they could to deprive

those same fellow-citizens of liberty and life, for the avowal and

promulgation of opinions.

Meantime, it would be but decent to forbear all boasts of a superior

knowledge and love of freedom.

Here I gladly break off my dark chapter on the Morals of Slavery.

SECTION II.

MORALS OF MANUFACTURES.

One remarkable effect of democratic institutions is the excellence of

the work turned out by those who live under them. In a country where the

whole course is open to every one; where, in theory, everything may be

obtained by merit, men have the strongest stimulus to exert their

powers, and try what they can achieve. I found master-workmen, who

employ operatives of various nations, very sensible of this. Elsewhere,

no artisan can possibly rise higher than to a certain point of

dexterity, and amount of wages. In America, an artisan may attain to be

governor of the State; member of Congress; even President. Instead of

this possibility having the effect of turning his head, and making him

unfit for business, (as some suppose, who seem to consider these

opportunities as resembling the chances of a lottery,) it attaches him

to his business and his master, to sober habits, and to intellectual

cultivation.

The only apparent excess to which it leads is ill-considered

enterprise. This is an evil sometimes to the individual, but not to

society. A man who makes haste to be famous or rich by means of new

inventions, may injure his own fortune or credit, but is usually a

benefactor to society, by furnishing a new idea on which another may

work with more success. Some of the most important improvements in the

manufactures of the United States have been made by men who afterwards

became insolvent. Where there is hasty enterprise, there is usually much

conceit. The very haste seems to show that the man is thinking more of

himself than of the subject on which he is employed. It naturally

happens that the conceited originator breaks down in the middle of his

scheme; and that some more patient, modest thinker takes it up where he

leaves off, and completes the invention. I was shown, at the Paterson

mills, an invention completed by two men on the spot, whose discovery

has been extensively adopted in England. A workman fancied he had

discovered a method by which he could twist rovings, fastened at both

ends, quicker than had ever been done before. As a more thoughtful

person would have foreseen, half the twisting came undone, as soon as

the ends were unfastened. The projector threw his work aside; but a

quiet observer among his brother workmen offered him a partnership and a

new idea, in return for the primary suggestion. The quiet man saw how

quickly the thread might be prepared, if the rovings could be condensed

fast enough for the twisting. He added his discovery to what the first

had really achieved; and the success was complete.

The factories are found to afford a safe and useful employment for much

energy which would otherwise be wasted and misdirected. I found that in

some places very bad morals had prevailed before the introduction of

manufactures; while now the same society is eminently orderly. The great

evil still is drunkenness: but of this there is less than there used to

be; and other disorders have almost entirely disappeared. A steady

employer has it in his power to do more for the morals of the society

about him than the clergy themselves. The experiment has been tried,

with entire success, of dismissing from the mills any who have been

guilty of open vice. This is submitted to, because it is obviously

reasonable that the sober workmen who remain should be protected from

association with vicious persons who must be offensive or dangerous to

them. If any employer has the firmness to dismiss unquestionable

offenders, however valuable their services may be to him, he may

confidently look for a cessation of such offences, and for a great

purification of the society in which they have occurred.

The morals of the female factory population may be expected to be good

when it is considered of what class it is composed. Many of the girls

are in the factories because they have too much pride for domestic

service. Girls who are too proud for domestic service as it is in

America, can hardly be low enough for any gross immorality; or to need

watching; or not to be trusted to avoid the contagion of evil example.

To a stranger, their pride seems to take a mistaken direction, and they

appear to deprive themselves of a respectable home and station, and many

benefits, by their dislike of service: but this is altogether their own

affair. They must choose for themselves their way of life. But the

reasons of their choice indicate a state of mind superior to the

grossest dangers of their position.

I saw a bill fixed up in the Waltham mill which bore a warning that no

young lady who attended dancing-school that winter should be employed:

and that the corporation had given directions to the overseer to dismiss

any one who should be found to dance at the school. I asked the meaning

of this; and the overseer's answer was, "Why, we had some trouble last

winter about the dancing-school. It must, of course, be held in the

evening, as the young folks are in the mill all day. They are very

young, many of them; and they forget the time, and everything but the

amusement, and dance away till two or three in the morning. Then they

are unfit for their work the next day; or, if they get properly through

their work, it is at the expense of their health. So we have forbidden

the dancing-school; but, to make up for it, I have promised them that,

as soon as the great new room at the hotel is finished, we will have a

dance once a-fortnight. We shall meet and break up early; and my wife

and I will dance; and we will all dance together."

I was sorry to see one bad and very unnecessary arrangement, in all the

manufacturing establishments. In England, the best friends of the poor

are accustomed to think it the crowning hardship of their condition that

solitude is wholly forbidden to them. It is impossible that any human

being should pass his life as well as he might do who is never

alone,--who is not frequently alone. This is a weighty truth which can

never be explained away. The silence, freedom and collectedness of

solitude are absolutely essential to the health of the mind; and no

substitute for this repose (or change of activity) is possible. In the

dwellings of the English poor, parents and children are crowded into one

room, for want of space and of furniture. All wise parents above the

rank of poor, make it a primary consideration so to arrange their

families as that each member may, at some hour, have some place where he

may enter in, and shut his door, and feel himself alone. If possible,

the sleeping places are so ordered. In America, where space is of far

less consequence, where the houses are large, where the factory girls

can build churches, and buy libraries, and educate brothers for learned

professions, these same girls have no private apartments, and sometimes

sleep six or eight in a room, and even three in a bed. This is very bad.

It shows a want of inclination for solitude; an absence of that need of

it which every healthy mind must feel, in a greater or less degree.

Now are the days when these gregarious habits should be broken through.

New houses are being daily built: more parents are bringing their

children to the factories. If the practice be now adopted, by the

corporations, or by the parents who preside over separate

establishments, of partitioning off the large sleeping apartments into

small ones which shall hold each one occupant, the expense of partitions

and windows and trouble will not be worth a moment's consideration in

comparison with the improvement in intelligence, morals, and manners,

which will be found to result from such an arrangement. If the change be

not soon made, the American factory population, with all its advantages

of education and of pecuniary sufficiency, will be found, as its numbers

increase, to have been irreparably injured by its subjection to a

grievance which is considered the very heaviest to which poverty exposes

artisans in old countries. Man's own silent thoughts are his best

safeguard and highest privilege. Of the full advantage of this

safeguard, of the full enjoyment of this privilege, the innocent and

industrious youth of a new country ought, by no mismanagement, to be

deprived.

SECTION III.

MORALS OF COMMERCE.

It is said in the United States that Commerce and the Navy are

patronised by the federal party; as agriculture is, and the army would

be, if there was one, by the democratic party. This is true enough. The

greater necessity for co-operation, and therefore for the partial

sacrifice of independence, imposed by commercial pursuits, is more

agreeable to the aristocratic portion of society than to its opposite.

Yet, while commerce has been spreading and improving, federalism has

dwindled away; and most remarkably where commerce is carried on in its

utmost activity: in Massachusetts. The democracy are probably finding

out that more is gained by the concentration of the popular will than is

lost in the way of individual independence, by men being brought

together for objects which require concession and mutual subordination.

However this may be, the spirit of commerce in the United States is, on

the whole, honourable to the people.

I shall have to speak hereafter of the regard to wealth, as the most

important object in life, which extensively corrupts Americans as it

does all other society. Here, I have to speak only of the spirit in

which one method of procuring wealth is prosecuted.

The activity of the commercial spirit in America is represented abroad,

and too often at home, as indicative of nothing but sordid love of gain:

a making haste to be rich, a directly selfish desire of aggrandisement.

This view of the case seems to me narrow and injurious. I believe that

many desires, various energies, some nobler and some meaner, find in

commerce a centre for their activity. I have studied with some care the

minds and manners of a variety of merchants, and other persons engaged

in commerce, and have certainly found a regard to money a more

superficial and intermitting influence than various others.

The spirit of enterprise is very remarkable in the American merchants.

Beginning life, as all Americans do, with the world all open before

them, and only a head and a pair of hands wherewith to gain it, a

passionate desire to overcome difficulties arises in them. Being, (as I

have before declared my opinion,) the most imaginative people in the

world, the whole world rises fair before them, and they, not believing

in impossibilities, long to conquer it.

Then, there is the meaner love of distinction; meaner than the love of

enterprise, but higher than the desire of gain. The distinction sought

is not always that which attends on superior wealth only; but on

world-wide intercourses, on extensive affairs, on hospitality to a large

variety of foreigners.

Again; there is the love of Art. Weak, immature, ignorant, perhaps, as

this taste at present is, it exists: and indications of it which merit

all respect, are to be found in many abodes. There are other, though not

perhaps such lofty ways of pursuing art, than by embodying conceptions

in pictures, statues, operas, and buildings. The love of Beauty and of

the ways of Humanity may indicate and gratify itself by other and

simpler methods than those which the high artists of the old world have

sanctified. If any one can witness the meeting of one kind of American

merchant with his supercargo, after a long, distant voyage, hear the

questioning and answering, and witness the delight with which new

curiosities are examined, and new theories of beauty and civilisation

are put forth upon the impulse of the moment, and still doubt the

existence of a love of art, still suppose the desire of gain the moving

spring of that man's mind,--may Heaven preserve the community from being

pronounced upon by such an observer! The critic with the stop-watch is

magnanimous in comparison.

Again; there is the human eagerness after an object once adopted. In

this case, it may be money, as in other cases it may be Queen Anne's

farthings, the knockers of doors, ancient books, (for their editions and

not their contents,) pet animals, autographs, or any other merely

outward object whose charm lies in the pursuit. Several men of business,

whose activity has made them very wealthy, have told me that, though

they would not openly declare what would look like a boast, and would

not be believed, the truth was that they should not care if they lost

every dollar they had. They knew themselves well enough to perceive that

the pleasure was in the pursuit, and not in the dollars: and I thought I

knew some of them well enough to perceive that it would be rather a

relief to have their money swept away, that they might again be as busy

as ever in a mode which had become pleasant to them by habit and

success. Of course, I am not speaking of such as of a very high and

happy order; as to be for a moment compared with the few whose pursuits

are of an unfailing but perpetually satisfying kind; with those whose

recompense is incessant, but never fulfilled. I am only declaring that

the eager pursuit of wealth does not necessarily indicate a love of

wealth for its own sake.

What are the facts? What are the manifestations of the character of the

American merchants? After their eager money-getting, how do they spend

it? How much do they prize it?

Their benevolence is known throughout the world: not only that

benevolence which founds and endows charities, and repairs to sufferers

the mischief of accidents; but that which establishes schools of a

higher order than common, and brings forward in life the most

meritorious of those who are educated there; the benevolence which

watches over the condition of seamen on the ocean, and their safety at

home; the benevolence which busies itself, with much expense of dollars

and trouble, to provide for the improved civilisation of the whole of

society. If the most liberal institutions in the northern States were

examined into, it would be found how active the merchant class has been,

beyond all others, in their establishment.

Again: their eager money-getting is not for purposes of accumulation.

Some--many, are deplorably ostentatious; but it seemed to me that the

ostentation was an after-thought; though it might lead to renewed

money-getting. Money was first gained. What was to be done with it? One

might as well outshine one's neighbours, especially as this would be a

fresh stimulus to get more still. This is bad; but it is not sordidness.

Instances of accumulation are extremely rare. The miser is with them an

antique, classical kind of personage, pictured forth as having on a high

cap, a long gown, and sitting in a vaulted chamber, amidst money-chests.

It would, I believe, be difficult there to find a pair of eyes that have

looked upon a real living and breathing miser. My account of the doings

of a miser whom I used wondering to watch in the days of my childhood

never failed to excite amazement, very like incredulity, in those I was

conversing with. The best proof that the money-getting of the eminently

successful merchants of America is not for money's sake, lies in the

fact, that in New England, peopled by more than 2,000,000 of

inhabitants, there are not more than 500, probably not more than 400

individuals, who can be called affluent men; possessing, that is,

100,000 dollars and upwards. A prosperous community, in which a sordid

pursuit of wealth was common, would be in a very different state from

this.

The bankruptcies in the United States are remarkably frequent and

disgraceful,--disgraceful in their nature, though not sufficiently so in

the eyes of society. A clergyman in a commercial city declares that

almost every head of a family in his congregation has been a bankrupt

since his settlement. In Philadelphia, from six to eight hundred persons

annually take the benefit of the insolvent laws; and numerous

compromises take place which are not heard of further than the parties

concerned in them. On seeing the fine house of a man who was a bankrupt

four years before, and who was then worth 100,000 dollars, I asked

whether such cases were common, and was grieved to find they were. Some

insolvents pay their old debts when they rise again; but the greater

number do not. This laxity of morals is favoured by the circumstances of

the community, which require the industry of all its members, and can

employ the resources of all,--first, of men of character, and then of

speculators. But, few things are more disgraceful to American society

than the carelessness with which speculators are allowed to game with

other people's funds, and, after ruining those who put trust in them, to

lift up their heads in all places, just as if they had, during their

whole lives, rendered unto all their dues. Whatever may be the causes or

the palliations of speculation; whatever may be pleaded about currency

mistakes, and the temptations to young men to make fortunes by the

public lands, one thing is clear; that no man, who, having failed, and

afterwards having the means to pay his debts in full, does not pay them,

can be regarded as an honest man, and ought to be received upon the same

footing with honest men, whatever may be his accomplishments, or his

subsequent fortune. What would be thought of any society which should

cherish an escaped (not reformed) thief, because a large legacy had

enabled him to set up his carriage? Yet how much difference is there in

the two cases? It is very rarely a duty,--more rarely than is generally

supposed, to mark and shun the guilty. It is usually more right to seek

and help him. But, in the case of a spreading vice, which is viewed with

increasing levity, the reprobation of the honest portion of society

ought to be very distinct and emphatic. Those who would not associate

with escaped thieves should avoid prosperous bankrupts who are not

thinking of paying their debts.

The gravest sin chargeable upon the merchants of the United States is

their conduct on the abolition question. This charge is by no means

general. There are instances of a manly declaration of opinion on the

side of freedom, and also of a spirit of self-sacrifice in the cause,

which can hardly be surpassed for nobleness. There are merchants who

have thrown up their commerce with the south when there was reason to

believe that its gains were wrung from the slave; and there are many who

have freely poured out their money, and risked their reputation, in

defence of the abolition cause, and of liberty of speech and the press.

But the reproach of the persecution of the abolitionists, and of

tampering with the fundamental liberties of the people, rests mainly

with the merchants of the northern States.

It is worthy of remembrance that the Abolition movement originated from

the sordid act of a merchant. While Garrison was at Baltimore, studying

the Colonisation scheme, a ship belonging to a merchant of Newburyport,

Massachusetts, arrived at Baltimore to take freight for New Orleans.

There was some difficulty about the expected cargo. The captain was

offered a freight of slaves, wrote to the merchant for leave, and

received orders to carry these slaves to New Orleans. Garrison poured

out, in a libel, (so called,) his indignation against this deed,

committed by a man who, as a citizen of Massachusetts, thanks God every

Thanksgiving Day that the soil of his State is untrod by the foot of a

slave. Garrison was fined and imprisoned; and after his release, was

warmly received in New York, where he lectured upon Abolition; from

which time, the cause has gained strength so as to have now become

unconquerable.

The spirit of this Newburyport merchant has dwelt in too many of the

same vocation. The Faneuil Hall meeting was convened chiefly by

merchants; and they have been conspicuous in all the mobs. They have

kept the clergy dumb: they have overawed the colleges, given their cue

to the newspapers, and shown a spirit of contempt and violence,

equalling even that of the slave-holders, towards those who, in acting

upon their honest convictions, have appeared likely to affect their

sources of profit. At Cincinnati, they were chiefly merchants who met to

destroy the right of discussion; and passed a resolution directly

recommendatory of violence for this purpose. They were merchants who

waited in deputation on the editor of the anti-slavery newspaper there,

to intimidate him from the use of his constitutional liberty, and who

made themselves by these acts answerable for the violences which

followed. This was so clear, that they were actually taunted by their

slave-holding neighbours, on the other side of the river, with their

sordidness in attempting to extinguish the liberties of the republic for

the sake of their own pecuniary gains.

The day will come when their eyes will be cleansed from the gold-dust

which blinds them. Meanwhile, as long as they continue active against

the most precious rights of the community; as long as they may be fairly

considered more guilty on this tremendous question of Human Wrongs than

even the slave-holders of the south,--more guilty than any class

whatever, except the clergy,--let them not boast of their liberality and

their benevolence. Generosity loses half its grace when it does not

co-exist with justice. Those can ill be esteemed benefactors to the

community in one direction, who are unfaithful to their citizenship in

another. Till such can be roused from their delusion, and can see their

conduct as others see it, the esteem of the world must rest on those of

their class who, to the graces of enterprise, liberality, and taste, add

the higher merit of intrepid, self-sacrificing fidelity to the cause of

Human Rights.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] In testimony of the fact that the working people of this region are

thinkers too, I subjoin a note written by the wife of a village

mechanic, who is a fair specimen of her class.

"SIR,--Nothing but a consciousness of my own incompetency to form a just

opinion on a question of such magnitude, and one too which involves

consequences as remote from my personal observation, as the immediate,

or gradual emancipation of the slaves, has, for some time, prevented my

being an acknowledged abolitionist. With the Divine precepts before me,

which require us to love our neighbour as ourselves, and 'whatsoever we

would that others should do to us,' etc. etc., instructed and admonished

too by the feelings of common humanity, I cannot hesitate to pronounce

the system of slavery an outrageous violation of the requirements of

God, and a lawless and cruel invasion of the rights of our fellow men.

In this view of it, I am not able to understand how it can be persisted

in, without setting at defiance the dictates of reason and conscience,

and what is of more importance, the uncompromising authority of

Scripture, the arguments of wise and talented men to the contrary,

notwithstanding. The most superficial observer cannot fail to discern,

in the universal interest and agitation, which prevail on this subject,

a prelude to some mighty revolution. If this 'war of words' is the

_worst_ that will precede or accompany it, I shall be happily

disappointed. With these feelings, sir, you will readily believe the

assurance, that I have been greatly interested, and instructed, in

reading the mild, comprehensive, intelligent 'lecture,' of your lamented

brother."

[14] See Appendix C: an admirable sketch by a resident of Charleston, of

the interior of a planter's family. It unconsciously bears out all that

can be said of the educational evils of the existing state of society in

the south.

[15] I went with a lady in whose house I was staying to dine, one

Sunday, on a neighbouring estate. Her husband happened not to be with

us, as he had to ride in another direction. The carriage was ordered for

eight in the evening. It drew up to the door at six; and the driver, a

slave, said his master had sent him, and begged we would go home

directly. We did so, and found my host very much surprised to see us

home so early. The message was a fiction of the slave's, who wanted to

get his horses put up, that he might enjoy his Sunday evening. His

master and mistress laughed, and took no further notice.

[16] The law declares that the children of slaves are to follow the

fortunes of the mother. Hence the practice of planters selling and

bequeathing their own children.

[17] I knew of the death of four men by summary burning alive, within

thirteen months of my residence in the United States.

[18] No notice is taken of any occurrence, however remarkable, in which

a person of colour, free or enslaved, has any share, for fear of the

Acts which denounce death or imprisonment for life against those who

shall write, print, publish, or distribute anything having a tendency to

excite discontent or insubordination, &c.; or which doom to heavy fines

those who shall use or issue language which may disturb "the security of

masters with their slaves, or diminish that respect which is commanded

to free people of colour for the whites."

[19] Alabama Digest. In the same section occurs the following: "That no

cruel or unusual punishment shall be inflicted on any slave within this

territory. And any owner of slaves authorising or permitting the same,

shall, on conviction thereof, before any court having cognizance, be

fined according to the nature of the offence, and at the discretion of

the court, in any sum not exceeding two hundred dollars."

Two hundred dollars' fine for torturing a slave: and five hundred for

teaching him to read!

PART III.

CIVILISATION.

"This country, which has given to the world the example of physical

liberty, owes to it that of moral emancipation also; for as yet it

is but nominal with us. The inquisition of public opinion

overwhelms, in practice, the freedom asserted by the laws in

theory."

_Jefferson._

The degree of civilisation of any people corresponds with the exaltation

of the idea which is the most prevalent among that people. The prominent

idea of savages is the necessity of providing for the supply of the

commonest bodily wants. The first steps in civilisation, therefore, are

somewhat refined methods of treating the body. When, by combination of

labour and other exercises of ingenuity, the wants of the body are

supplied with regularity and comparative ease, the love of pleasure, the

love of idleness, succeeds. Then comes the desire of wealth; and next,

the regard to opinion. Further than this no nation has yet attained.

Individuals there have been, probably in every nation under heaven, who

have lived for a higher idea than any of these; and insulated customs

and partial legislation have, among all communities, shown a tendency

towards something loftier than the prevalent morality. The majesty of

higher ideas is besides so irresistible, that an involuntary homage,

purely inefficacious, has been offered to them from of old by the

leaders of society.

"Earth is sick,

And Heaven is weary of the hollow words

Which States and Kingdoms utter when they talk

Of truth and justice."

Though, as yet, "profession mocks performance," the profession, from age

to age, of the same lofty something not yet attained, may be taken as a

clear prophecy of ultimate performance. It shows a perception, however

dim, a regard, however feeble, from which endeavour and attainment

cannot but follow, in course of time. But the time is not yet. In the

old world, the transition is, in its most enlightened parts, only

beginning to be made, from the few governing the many avowedly for the

good of the few, to governing the many professedly for the good of the

many. The truth and justice under whose dominion every man would

reverence all other men, would renounce himself for the sake of others,

and feel it to be the highest destiny "not to be ministered unto, but to

minister," are still "hollow words." The civilisation of the old world

still corresponds with the low idea, that man lives in and for the

outward, in and for what is around him rather than what is within him.

It is still supposed, that whatever a few individuals say and do, the

generality of men live for wealth, outward ease and dignity, and, at the

highest, lofty reputation. The degree of civilisation corresponds with

this. There is scarcely an institution or a custom which supposes

anything higher. What educational arrangements there are, are new, and

(however praiseworthy as being an actual advance) are so narrow and

meagre as to show how unaccustomed is the effort to consider the man as

nobler than the unit of society. The phrase is still the commonest of

phrases in which parents, guardians, schoolmasters and statesmen embody

their ambition for their wards--that any such ward "may become a useful

and respectable member of society." The greater number of guardians

would be terrified at the idea of their wards becoming anything else;

anything higher than "useful and respectable members of society," while

it is as clear as noon-day that room ought to be left,--that facilities

ought to be afforded for every one becoming whatsoever his Maker has

fitted him to be, so long as it appears that the noblest men by whom the

earth has been graced, have been considered in their own time the very

reverse of "useful and respectable members of society." The most godlike

of the race have been esteemed "pestilent fellows" in their day and

generation. No student of the ways of Providence will repine at this

order of affairs, or expect that any arrangement of society can be made

by which the convictions and sympathies of the less gifted should be

enabled suddenly to overtake those of the more gifted. He will not

desire to change the great and good laws by which the chosen of his race

are "made perfect through sufferings," and by which the light of reason

is ordained to brighten very gradually from dawn into day. He will only

take note of the fact, that it is a low state of civilisation which

presupposes specified and outward aims, and relies with such confidence

on the mechanical means of attaining them as to be shocked, or anything

but gratified, at the pursuit of singular objects by unusual methods.

The observer will rightly judge such to be a low state of civilisation,

whatever lamentations or exultations he may daily hear about the very

high point civilisation has reached, when the schoolmaster is abroad,

when people can travel at the rate of fifty miles an hour, and eminent

cooks are paid 1,200l. a-year. While truth and justice remain "hollow

words," so far as that men cannot live for them, to the detriment of

their fortunes, without being called mischievous and disreputable

members of society, no one can reasonably speak of the high civilisation

of the country to which they belong.

The old world naturally looks with interest to the new, to see what

point of civilisation it reaches under fresh circumstances. The interest

may be undefined, and partly unconscious; but it is very eager. The

many, who conceive of no other objects of general pursuit than the old

ones of wealth, ease, and honour, look only to see under what forms

these are pursued. The few, who lay the blame of the grovelling at home

upon outward restrictions alone, look to America with extravagant

expectations of a perfect reign of virtue and happiness, because the

Americans live in outward freedom. What is the truth?

While the republics of North America are new, the ideas of the people

are old. While these republics were colonies, they contained an old

people, living under old institutions, in a new country. Now they are a

mixed people, infant as a nation, with a constant accession of minds

from old countries, living in a new country, under institutions newly

combined out of old elements. It is a case so singular, that the old

world may well have patience for some time, to see what will arise. The

old world must have patience; for the Americans have no national

character yet; nor can have, for a length of years. It matters not that

they think they have: or it matters only so far as it shows to what they

tend. Their veneration of Washington has led them to suppose that he is

the type of their nation. Their patriotic feelings are so far

associated with him that they conclude the nation is growing up in his

likeness. If any American were trusted by his countrymen to delineate

what they call their national character, it would infallibly come out a

perfect likeness of Washington. But there is a mistake here. There were

influences prior to Washington, and there are circumstances which have

survived him, that cause some images to lie deeper down in the hearts of

Americans than Washington himself. His character is a grand and very

prevalent idea among them: but there are others which take the

precedence, from being more general still. Wealth and opinion were

practically worshipped before Washington opened his eyes on the sun

which was to light him to his deeds; and the worship of Opinion is, at

this day, the established religion of the United States.

If the prevalent idea of society did not arise out of circumstances over

which the mutations of outward events exercise but a small immediate

influence, it is clear that, in this case, the idea should arise out of

the characters of the benefactors who achieved the revolution, and must

be consistent with the solemn words in which they conveyed their united

Declaration. The principles of truth, and the rule of justice, according

to which that Declaration was framed, and that revolutionary struggle

undertaken and conducted, should, but for prior influences, have been

the spirit inspiring the whole civilisation of the American people.

There should then have been the utmost social as well as political

freedom. The pursuit of wealth might then have been subordinated at

pleasure: fear of injury, alike from opinion and from violence, should

have been banished; and as noble facilities afforded for the progression

of the inward, as for the enjoyment of the outward, man. But this was

not given. Instead of it there was ordained a mingling of old and new

influences, from which a somewhat new kind of civilisation has arisen.

The old-world estimation of wealth has remained among them, though, I

believe and trust, somewhat diminished in strength. Though every man

works for it in America, and not quite every man does so in England, it

seems to me that it is not so absolutely the foreground object in all

views of life, the one subject of care, speculation, inquiry, and

supposition, that it is in England. It is in America clearly subordinate

to another idea, still an idol, but of a higher order than the former.

The worship of Opinion certainly takes precedence of that of wealth.

In a country where the will of the majority decides all political

affairs, there is a temptation to belong to the majority, except where

strong interests, or probabilities of the speedy supremacy of the

minority, countervail. The minority, in such a case, must be possessed

of a strong will, to be a minority. A strong will is dreaded by the

weaker, who have so little faith as to believe that such a will

endangers the political equality which is the fundamental principle of

their institutions. This dread occasions persecution, or at least

opprobrium: opprobrium becomes a real danger; and, like all dangers, is

much more feared than it deserves, the longer it lasts, and the more it

is dwelt upon. Thus, from a want of faith in the infallible operation of

the principles of truth and the rule of justice, these last become

"hollow words" in the States of the new, as in the kingdoms of the old

world; and the infant nation, which was expected to begin a fresh and

higher social life, is acting out in its civilisation an idea but little

more exalted than those which have operated among nations far less

favoured than herself in regard to political freedom.

CHAPTER I.

IDEA OF HONOUR.

"Talent and worth are the only eternal grounds of distinction. To

these the Almighty has affixed his everlasting patent of nobility;

and these it is which make the bright, 'the immortal names,' to

which our children may aspire, as well as others. It will be our

own fault if, in our own land, society as well as government is not

organised upon a new foundation."

_Miss Sedgwick._

It is true that it is better to live for honour than for wealth: but how

much better, depends upon the idea of honour. Where truth and justice

are more than hollow words, the idea of honour is such as to exclude all

fear, except of wrong-doing. Where the honour is to be derived from

present human opinion, there must be fear, ever present, and perpetually

exciting to or withholding from action. In such a case, as painful a

bondage is incurred as in the pursuit of wealth. If riches take to

themselves wings, and fly away, so does popularity. If rich freights are

in danger afar off from storms, and harvests at home from blights, so is

reputation, from differences of opinion, and varieties of views and

tempers. If all that moralists have written, and wise men have

testified, about the vanity and misery of depending on human applause be

true, there can be no true freedom in communities, any more than for

individuals, who live to opinion. The time will come when the Americans

also will testify to this, as a nation, as many individual members of

their society have done already. The time will come when they will be

astonished to discover how they mar their own privileges by allowing

themselves less liberty of speech and action than is enjoyed by the

inhabitants of countries whose political servitude the Americans justly

compassionate and despise.

This regard to opinion shows itself under various forms in different

parts of the country, and under dissimilar social arrangements. In the

south, where the labour itself is capital, and labour cannot therefore

be regarded with due respect, there is much vanity of retinue, much

extravagance, from fear of the imputation of poverty which would follow

upon retrenchment; and great recklessness of life, from fear of the

imputation of cowardice which might follow upon forgiveness of injuries.

Fear of imputation is here the panic, under which men relinquish their

freedom of action and speech. In the north, society has been enabled,

chiefly by the religious influence which has descended from the fathers,

to surmount, in some degree, this low kind of fear, so far as it shows

itself in recklessness of life: but not altogether. I was amazed to hear

a gentleman of New England declare, while complaining of the insolence

of the southern members of Congress to the northern, under shelter of

the northern men not being duellists, that, if he went to Congress, he

would give out that he would fight. I do not believe that he would

actually have proved himself so far behind the society to which he

belonged as to have adopted a bad practice which it had

outgrown,--adopted it from that very fear of imputation which he

despised in the south; but the impulse under which he spoke testified to

the danger of a fear of opinion taking any form, however low, when it

exists under any other.

When I was at Philadelphia, a shocking incident happened in a family

with which I was acquainted. The only son, a fine youth of nineteen, was

insulted by a fellow-student. His father and uncle consulted what must

be done; and actually sent the young man out to fight the person who had

insulted him: the mother being aware of it, and praying that if either

fell, it might be her son. She no doubt felt in her true heart, that it

would be better to die than to murder another from the selfish fear of

imputation. The first aggressor lost a finger; and there, it was said,

the matter ended. But the matter has not ended yet, nor will end; for

the young man has had a lesson of low selfishness, of moral cowardice

impressed upon him by the guardians of his youth, with a force which he

is not likely to surmount: and the society in which he lives has seen

the strongest testimony to false principles borne by two of its most

respected members.

Not by any means as a fair specimen of society, but as an example of

what kind of honour may be enjoyed where the fear of imputation is at

its height, I give the description, as it was given me by a resident, of

what a man may do in an eminently duelling portion of the southern

country. "A man may kill another, and be no worse. He may be shabby in

his money transactions, but may not steal. He may game, but not keep a

gaming-house." It will not do for the duellists of the south to drop in

conversation, as they do, that good manners can exist only where

vengeance is the penalty of bad. The fear of imputation and the dread of

vengeance are at least as contemptible as bad manners; and

unquestionably lower than the fear of opinion prevalent in the north.

In the north there can be little vanity of retinue, as retinue is not

to be had: but there is, instead of it, much ostentation of wealth, in

the commercial cities. It is here that the aristocracy form and collect;

and, as has been before said, the aristocratic is universally the

fearing, while the democratic is the hoping, party. The fear of opinion

takes many forms. There is fear of vulgarity, fear of responsibility;

and above all, fear of singularity. There is something more displeasing,

at the first view, in the caution of the Yankees than in the

recklessness of the cavalier race of the south. Till the individual

exceptions come out from the mass; till the domestic frankness and

generosity of the whole people are apparent, there is something little

short of disgusting to the stranger who has been unused to witness such

want of social confidence, in the caution which presents probably the

strongest aspect of selfishness that he has ever seen.

The Americans of the northern States are, from education and habit, so

accustomed to the caution of which I speak, as to be unaware of its

extent and singularity. They think themselves injured by the remarks

which strangers make upon it, and by the ridicule with which it is

treated by their own countrymen who have travelled abroad. But the

singularity is in themselves. They may travel over the world, and find

no society but their own which will submit to the restraint of perpetual

caution, and reference to the opinions of others. They may travel over

the whole world, and find no country but their own where the very

children beware of getting into scrapes, and talk of the effect of

actions upon people's minds; where the youth of society determine in

silence what opinions they shall bring forward, and what avow only in

the family circle; where women write miserable letters, almost

universally, because it is a settled matter that it is unsafe to commit

oneself on paper; and where elderly people seem to lack almost

universally that faith in principles which inspires a free expression of

them at any time, and under all circumstances.

"Mrs. B.," said a child of eleven to a friend of mine, "what church do

you go to?"--"To Mr. ----'s." "O, Mrs. B. are you a Unitarian?"--"No."

"Then why do you go to that church?"--"Because I can worship best

there." "O, but Mrs. B., think of the example,--the example, Mrs. B.!"

When I had been in the country some time, I remarked to one who knew

well the society in which he lived, that I had not seen a good lady's

letter since I landed; though the conversation of some of the writers

was of a very superior kind. The letters were uniformly poor and guarded

in expression, confined to common-places, and overloaded with flattery.

"There are," replied he, "no good letters written in America. The force

of public opinion is so strong, and the danger of publicity so great,

that men do not write what they think, for fear of getting into bad

hands: and this acts again upon the women, and makes their style

artificial." It is not quite true that there are no good letters written

in America: among my own circle of correspondents there, there are

ladies and gentlemen whose letters would stand a comparison with any for

frankness, grace, and epistolary beauty of every kind. But I am not

aware of any medium between this excellence and the boarding-school

insignificance which characterises the rest.

When the stranger has recovered a little from the first disagreeable

impression of all this caution, he naturally asks what there can be to

render it worth while. To this question, I never could discover a

satisfactory answer. What harm the "force of public opinion," or

"publicity," can do to any individual; what injury "bad hands" can

inflict upon a good man or woman, which can be compared with the evil of

living in perpetual caution, I cannot imagine. If men and women cannot

bear blame, they had better hew out a space for themselves in the

forest, and live there, as the only safe place. If they are afraid of

observation and comment, they should withdraw from society altogether:

for the interest which human beings take in each other is so deep and

universal, that observation and comment are unavoidable wherever there

are eyes to see, and hearts and minds to yearn and speculate. An honest

man will not naturally fear this investigation. If he is not sure of his

opinions on any matter, he will say so, and endeavour to gain light. If

he is sure, he will speak them, and be ready to avow the grounds of

them, as occasion arises. That there should be some who think his

opinions false and dangerous is not pleasant; but it is an evil too

trifling to be mentioned in comparison with the bondage of concealment,

and the torment of fear. This bondage, this torment is worse than the

worst that the "force of public opinion" can inflict, even if such force

should close the prospect of political advancement, of professional

eminence, and of the best of social privileges. There are some members

of society in America who have found persecution, excommunication, and

violence, more endurable than the concealment of their convictions.

Few persons really doubt this when the plain case is set down before

them. They agree to it in church on Sundays, and in conversation by the

fireside: and the reason why they are so backward as they are to act

upon it in the world, is that habit and education are too strong for

them. They have worn their chains so long that they feel them less than

might be supposed. I doubt whether they can even conceive of a state of

society, of its ease and comfort, where no man fears his neighbour, and

it is no evil to be responsible for one's opinions: where men, knowing

how undiscernible consequences are, and how harmless they must be to the

upright, abide them without fear, and do not perplex themselves with

calculating what is incalculable. Whenever the time shall come for the

Americans to discover all this, to perceive how miserable a restraint

they have imposed upon themselves by this servitude to opinion, they

will see how it is that, while outwardly blessed beyond all parallel,

they have been no happier than the rest of the world. I doubt whether,

among the large "uneasy classes" of the Old World, there is so much

heart-eating care, so much nervous anxiety, as among the dwellers in the

towns of the northern States of America, from this cause alone. If I had

to choose, I would rather endure the involuntary uneasiness of the Old

World sufferers, than the self-imposed anxiety of those of the New:

except that the self-imposed suffering may be shaken off at any moment.

There are instances, few, but striking, of strong-minded persons who

have discovered and are practising the true philosophy of ease; who have

openly taken their stand upon principles, and are prepared for all

consequences, meekly and cheerfully defying all possible inflictions of

opinion. Though it does not enter into their calculations, such may

possibly find that they are enjoying more, and suffering less from

opinion, than those who most daintily court it.

There would be something amusing in observing the operation of this

habit of caution, if it were not too serious a misfortune. When Dr.

Channing's work on Slavery came out, the following conversation passed

between a lady of Boston and myself. She began it with--

"Have you seen Dr. Channing's book?"

"Yes. Have you?"

"O no. Do not you think it very ill-timed?"

"No; I think it well-timed; as it did not come out sooner."

"But is it not wrong to increase the public excitement at such a time?"

"That depends upon the nature of the excitement. But this book seems to

have a tranquillising effect: as the exhibition of true principles

generally has."

"But Dr. Channing is not a practical man. He is only a retired student.

He has no real interest in the matter."

"No worldly interest; and this, and his seclusion, enable him to see

more clearly than others, in a case where principles enlighten men, and

practice seems only to blind them."

"Well: I shall certainly read the book, as you like it so much."

"Pray don't, if that is your reason."

A reply to Dr. Channing's book soon appeared;--a pamphlet which savoured

only of fear, dollars, and, consequently, insult. A gentleman of Boston,

who had, on some important occasions, shown that he could exercise a

high moral courage, made no mention of this reply for some time after it

appeared. At length, on hearing another person speak of it as it

deserved, he said, "Now people are so openly speaking of that reply, I

have no objection to say what I think of it. I have held my tongue about

it hitherto; but yesterday I heard ---- speak of it as you do; and I no

longer hesitate to declare that I think it an infamous production."

It may be said that such are remarkable cases. Be it so: they still

testify to the habit of society, by the direction which the caution

takes. Elsewhere, the parties might be quite as much afraid of

something else; but they would not dream of refraining from a good book,

or holding their tongues about the badness of a vicious pamphlet, till

supported by the opinions of others.

How strong a contrast to all this the domestic life of the Americans

presents will appear when I come to speak of the spirit of intercourse.

It is an individual, though prevalent, selfishness that I have now been

lamenting.

The traveller should go into the west when he desires to see universal

freedom of manners. The people of the west have a comfortable

self-complacency, equally different from the arrogance of the south, and

the timidity of the north. They seem to unite with this the hospitality

which distinguishes the whole country: so that they are, on the whole, a

very bewitching people. Their self-confidence probably arises from their

being really remarkably energetic, and having testified this by the

conquests over nature which their mere settlement in the west evinces.

They are the freest people I saw in America: and accordingly one enjoys

among them a delightful exemption from the sorrow and indignation which

worldly caution always inspires; and from flattery. If the stranger

finds himself flattered in the west, he may pretty safely conclude that

the person he is talking with comes from New England. "We are apt to

think," said a westerner to me, "that however great and good another

person may be, we are just as great and good." Accordingly, intercourse

goes on without any reference whatever to the merits of the respective

parties. In the sunshine of complacency, their free thoughts ripen into

free deeds, and the world gains largely. There are, naturally, instances

of extreme conceit, here and there: but I do not hesitate to avow that,

prevalent as mock-modesty and moral cowardice are in the present

condition of society, that degree of self-confidence which is commonly

called conceit grows in favour with me perpetually. An over-estimate of

self appears to me a far less hurtful and disagreeable mistake than the

idolatry of opinion. It is a mistake which is sure to be rectified,

sooner or later; and very often, it proves to be no mistake where small

critics feel the most confident that they may safely ridicule it. The

event decides this matter of self-estimate, beyond all question; and

while the event remains undisclosed, it is easy and pleasant to give men

credit for as much as they believe themselves to be capable of:--more

easy and pleasant than to see men restricting their own powers by such

calculation of consequences as implies an equal want of faith in others

and in themselves. If John Milton were now here to avow his hope that he

should produce that which "the world would not willingly let die," what

a shout there would be of "the conceited fellow!" while, the declaration

having been made venerable by the event, it is now cited as an instance

of the noble self-confidence of genius.

The people of the west have a right to so much self-confidence as arises

from an ascertainment of what they can actually achieve. They come from

afar, with some qualities which have force enough to guide them into a

new region. They subdue this region to their own purposes; and, if they

do often forget that the world elsewhere is progressing; if they do

suppose themselves as relatively great in present society as they were

formerly in the wilderness, it should be remembered, on their behalf,

that they have effectually asserted their manhood in the conquest of

circumstances.

If we are not yet to see, except in individual instances, the exquisite

union of fearlessness with modesty, of self-confidence with

meekness;--if there must be either the love of being grand in one's own

eyes, or the fear of being little in other people's,--the friends of the

Americans would wish that their error should be that which is allied to

too much, rather than too little freedom.

As for the anxiety about foreign opinions of America, I found it less

striking than I expected. In the south, there is the keenest sensibility

to the opinion of the world about slavery; and in New England, the

veneration for England is greater than I think any one people ought to

feel for any other. The love of the mother country, the filial pride in

her ancient sages, are natural and honourable: and so, perhaps, is a

somewhat exalted degree of deference for the existing dwellers upon the

soil of that mother country, and on the spot where those sages lived and

thought and spoke. But, as long as no civilised nation is, or can be

ascertained to be, far superior or inferior to any other; as the human

heart and human life are generally alike and equal, on this side

barbarism, the excessive reverence with which England is regarded by the

Americans seems to imply a deficiency of self-respect. This is an

immeasurably higher and more healthy state of feeling than that which

has been exhibited by a small portion of the English towards the

Americans;--the contempt which, again, a sprinkling of Americans have

striven to reciprocate. But the despisers in each nation, though so

noisy as to produce some effect, are so few as to need no more than a

passing allusion. If any English person can really see and know the

Americans on their own ground, and fail to honour them as a nation, and

love them as personal friends, he is no fair sample of the people whose

name he bears; and is probably incapable of unperverted reverence: and

if any American, having really seen and known the English on their own

ground, does not reverence his own home exactly in proportion as he

loves what is best in the English, he is unworthy of his home.

When I was on my voyage out, the Americans on board amused themselves

with describing to me how incessantly I should be met by the question

how I liked America. When we arrived within a few miles of New York, a

steam-boat met us, bringing the friends of some of the passengers. On

board this steam-boat, the passengers went up to the city. It happened

to be the smallest, dirtiest, and most clumsy steamer belonging to the

port. A splashing rain drove us down into the cabin, where there was

barely standing room for our company. We saw each other's faces by the

dim light of a single shabby lamp. "Now, Miss M." said some of the

American passengers, "how do you like America?" This was the first time

of my being asked the question which I have had to answer almost daily

since. Yet I do not believe that many of my interrogators seriously

cared any more for my answer than those who first put the question in

the dirty cabin; or than my little friend Charley, who soon caught the

joke, and with grave face, asked me, every now and then, "How do you

like this country?" I learned to regard it as a method of beginning

conversation, like our meteorological observations in England; which are

equally amusing to foreigners. My own impression is, that while the

Americans have too exalted a notion of England, and too little

self-respect as a nation, they are far less anxious about foreign

opinions of themselves than the behaviour of American travellers in

England would lead the English to suppose. The anxiety arises on English

ground. At home, the generality of Americans seem to see clearly enough

that it is yet truer with regard to nations than individuals that,

though it is very pleasant to have the favourable opinion of one's

neighbours, yet, if one is good and happy within oneself, the rest does

not much matter. I met with a few who spoke with a disgusting

affectation of candour, (some, as if they expected to please me thereby,

and others under the influence of sectional prejudice,) of what they

called the fairness of the gross slanders with which they have been

insulted through the English press: but I was thankful to meet with more

who did not acknowledge the jurisdiction of observers disqualified by

prejudice, or by something worse, for passing judgment on a nation. The

irritability of their vanity has been much exaggerated, partly to serve

paltry purposes of authorship; and yet more from the ridiculous

exhibitions of some Americans in England, who are no more to be taken as

specimens of the nation to which they belong than a young Englishman

who, when I was at New York, went up the Hudson in a drizzling rain,

pronounced that West Point was not so pretty as Richmond; descended the

river in the dark, and declared on his return that the Americans were

wonderfully proud of scenery that was nothing particular in any way.

It will be well for the Americans, particularly those of the east and

south, when their idea of honour becomes as exalted as that which

inspired their revolutionary ancestors. Whenever they possess themselves

of the idea of their democracy, as it was possessed by their statesmen

of 1801, they will moderate their homage of human opinion, and enhance

their worship of humanity. Not till then will they live up to their

institutions, and enjoy that internal freedom and peace to which the

external are but a part of the means. In such improvement, they will be

much assisted by the increasing intercourse between Britain and America;

for, however fascinating to Americans may be the luxury, conversational

freedom, and high intellectual cultivation of some portions of English

society, they cannot fail to be disgusted with the aristocratic

insolence which is the vice of the whole. The puerile and barbaric

spirit of contempt is scarcely known in America: the English insolence

of class to class, of individuals towards each other, is not even

conceived of, except in the one highly disgraceful instance of the

treatment of the people of colour. Nothing in American civilisation

struck me so forcibly and so pleasurably as the invariable respect paid

to man, as man. Nothing since my return to England has given me so much

pain as the contrast there. Perhaps no Englishman can become fully

aware, without going to America, of the atmosphere of insolence in which

he dwells; of the taint of contempt which infects all the intercourses

of his world. He cannot imagine how all that he can say that is truest

and best about the treatment of people of colour in America is

neutralised on the spot, by its being understood how the same contempt

is spread over the whole of society here, which is there concentrated

upon the blacks.

SECTION I.

CASTE.

This word, at least its meaning, is no more likely to become obsolete in

a republic than among the Hindoos themselves. The distinctive

characteristics may vary; but there will be rank, and tenacity of rank,

wherever there is society. As this is natural, inevitable, it is of

course right. The question must be what is to entitle to rank.

As the feudal qualifications for rank are absolutely non-existent in

America, (except in the slave States, where there are two classes,

without any minor distinctions,) it seems absurd that the feudal remains

of rank in Europe should be imitated in America. Wherever the appearance

of a conventional aristocracy exists in America, it must arise from

wealth, as it cannot from birth. An aristocracy of mere wealth is vulgar

everywhere. In a republic, it is vulgar in the extreme.

This is the only kind of vulgarity I saw in the United States. I imagine

that the English who have complained the most copiously of the vulgarity

of American manners, have done so from two causes: from using their own

conventional notions as a standard of manners, (which is a vulgarism in

themselves;) and also from their intercourses with the Americans having

been confined to those who consider themselves the aristocracy of the

United States; the wealthy and showy citizens of the Atlantic ports.

Foreign travellers are most hospitably received by this class of

society; introduced to "the first people in Boston,"--"in New

York,"--"in Philadelphia;" and taught to view the country with the eyes

of their hosts. No harm is intended here: it is very natural: but it is

not the way for strangers to obtain an understanding of the country and

the people. The traveller who chooses industriously to see for himself,

not with European or aristocratic merely, but with human eyes, will find

the real aristocracy of the country, not only in ball-rooms and

bank-parlours, but also in fishing-boats, in stores, in college

chambers, and behind the plough. Till he has seen all this, and studied

the natural manners of the natural aristocracy, he is no more justified

in applying the word "vulgar" to more than a class, than an American

would be who should call all the English vulgar, when he had seen only

the London alderman class.

I had the opportunity of perceiving what errors might arise from this

cause. I was told a great deal about "the first people in Boston:" which

is perhaps as aristocratic, vain, and vulgar a city, as described by its

own "first people," as any in the world. Happily, however, Boston has

merits which these people know not of. I am far from thinking it, as

they do, the most religious, the most enlightened, and the most virtuous

city in the world. There are other cities in the United States which, on

the whole, I think more virtuous and more enlightened: but I certainly

am not aware of so large a number of peculiarly interesting and valuable

persons living in near neighbourhood, anywhere else but in London. But

it happens that these persons belong chiefly to the natural, very few to

the conventional, aristocracy. They have little perceptible influence.

Society does not seem to be much the better for them. They save their

own souls; but, as regards society, the salt appears to have lost its

savour. It is so sprinkled as not to season the body. With men and women

enough on the spot to redeem society from false morals, and empty

religious profession, Boston is the head-quarters of Cant.

Notwithstanding its superior intelligence, its large provision of

benevolent institutions, and its liberal hospitality, there is an

extraordinary and most pernicious union, in more than a few scattered

instances, of profligacy and the worst kind of infidelity, with a strict

religious profession, and an outward demeanour of remarkable propriety.

The profligacy and infidelity might, I fear, be found in all other

cities, on both sides the water; but nowhere, probably, in absolute

co-existence with ostensible piety. This is not the connexion in which

to speak of the religious aspect of the matter; but, as regards the

cant, I believe that it proceeds chiefly from the spirit of caste which

flourishes in a society which on Sundays and holidays professes to have

abjured it. It is true that the people of New England have put away

duelling; but the feelings which used to vent themselves by the practice

of duelling are cherished by the members of the conventional

aristocracy. This is revealed, not only by the presence of cant, but by

the confessions of some who are bold enough not to pretend to be either

republicans or christians. There are some few who openly desire a

monarchy; and a few more who constantly insinuate the advantages of a

monarchy, and the distastefulness of a republic. It is observable that

such always argue on the supposition that if there were a monarchy, they

should be the aristocracy: a point in which I imagine they would find

themselves mistaken, if so impossible an event could happen at all. This

class, or coterie, is a very small one, and not influential; though a

gentleman of the kind once ventured to give utterance to his aspirations

after monarchy in a fourth of July oration; and afterwards to print

them. There is something venerable in his intrepidity, at least. The

reproach of cant does not attach to him.

The children are such faithful reflectors of this spirit as to leave no

doubt of its existence, even amidst the nicest operations of cant.

Gentlemen may disguise their aristocratic aspirations under sighs for

the depressed state of literature and science; supposing that wealth and

leisure are the constituents of literature; and station the proximate

cause of science; and committing the slight mistake of assuming that the

natural aristocracy of England, her philosophers and poets, have been

identical with, or originated by, her conventional aristocracy. The

ladies may conceal their selfish pride of caste, even from themselves,

under pretensions to superior delicacy and refinement. But the children

use no such disguises. Out they come with what they learn at home. A

school-girl told me what a delightful "set" she belonged to at her

school: how comfortable they all were once, without any sets, till

several grocers' daughters began to come in, as their fathers grew rich;

and it became necessary for the higher girls to consider what they

should do, and to form themselves into sets. She told me how the

daughter of a lottery office-keeper came to the school; and no set would

receive her; how unkindly she was treated, and how difficult it was for

any individual to help her, because she had not spirit or temper enough

to help herself. My informant went on to mention how anxious she and her

set, of about sixty young people, were to visit exclusively among

themselves, how "delightful" it would be to have no grocers' daughters

among them; but that it was found to be impossible.

Here is an education to be going on in the middle of a republic! Much

solace, however, lies in the last clause of the information above

quoted. The Exclusives do find their aims 'impossible.' They will

neither have a monarchy, nor be able to complete and close their 'sets:'

least of all will any republican functions be discharged by those who

are brought up to have any respect of occupations,--to regard a grocer

as beneath a banker. The chief effect of the aristocratic spirit in a

democracy is to make those who are possessed by it exclusives in a

double sense; in being excluded yet more than in excluding. The republic

suffers no further than by having within it a small class acting upon

anti-republican morals, and becoming thereby its perverse children,

instead of its wise and useful friends and servants.

In Philadelphia, I was much in society. Some of my hospitable

acquaintances lived in Chesnut Street, some in Arch Street, and many in

other places. When I had been a few weeks in the city, I found to my

surprise that some of the ladies who were my admiration had not only

never seen or heard of other beautiful young ladies whom I admired quite

as much, but never would see or hear of them. I inquired again and again

for a solution of this mystery. One person told me that a stranger could

not see into the usages of their society. This was just what I was

feeling to be true; but it gave me no satisfaction. Another said that

the mutual ignorance was from the fathers of the Arch Street ladies

having made their fortunes, while the Chesnut Street ladies owed theirs

to their grandfathers. Another, who was amused with a new fashion of

curtseying, just introduced, declared it was from the Arch Street ladies

rising twice on their toes before curtseying, while the Chesnut Street

ladies rose thrice. I was sure of only one thing in the matter; that it

was a pity that the parties should lose the pleasure of admiring each

other, for no better reasons than these: and none better were apparent.

It is not to be supposed that the mere circumstance of living in a

republic will ever eradicate that kind of self-love which takes the form

of family pride. It is a stage in the transit from selfishness to

benevolence; and therefore natural and useful in its proper time and

place. As every child thinks his father the wisest man in the world, the

loving member of a family thinks his relations the greatest, best and

happiest of people, till he gets an intimate knowledge of some others.

This species of exclusiveness exists wherever there are families. An

eminent public man, travelling in a somewhat retired part of his State,

told us how he had been amused with an odd instance of family pride

which had just come under his notice. Some plain farmers, brothers, had

claimed to be his cousins; and he found they were so. They introduced

each other to him; and one brought his son,--a hideous little

Flibbertigibbet, with a shock of carroty hair. His father complacently

stroked his hair, and declared he was exactly like his uncle Richard:

his uncle Richard over again; 'twas wonderful how like his uncle Richard

he was in all respects: the hair was the very same; and his uncle

Richard was dumb till very late, and then stammered: "and this little

fellow," said the father, with a complacent smile,--"this little fellow

is six years old, and he can't speak a word."

No one will find fault with the pride of connexion in this stage.

Supposing it to remain in its present state, it is harmless from its

extreme smallness. In a city, under the stimulus of society, the same

pride may be either perverted into the spirit of caste, or exalted into

the affection of pure republican brotherhood. The alternative is

significant as to the state of the republic, and all-important to the

individual.

The extent and influence of the conventional aristocracy in the United

States are significant of the state of the republic so far as that they

afford an accurate measure of the anti-republican spirit which exists.

Such an aristocracy must remain otherwise too insignificant to be

dangerous. It cannot choose its own members, restrict its own numbers,

or keep its gentility from contamination; for it must be perpetuated,

not by hereditary transmission, but by accessions from below. Grocers

grow rich, and mechanics become governors of States; and happily there

is no law, nor reason, nor desire that it should be otherwise. This

little cloud will always overhang the republic, like the perpetual

vapour which hovers above Niagara, thrown up by the force and regularity

of the movement below. Some observers may be sorry that the heaven is

never to be quite clear: but none will dread the little cloud. It would

be about as reasonable to fear that the white vapour should drown the

cataract from whence it issues as that the conventional aristocracy of

America should swamp the republic.

SECTION II.

PROPERTY.

I found it an admitted truth, throughout the United States, that

enormous private wealth is inconsistent with the spirit of

republicanism. Wealth is power; and large amounts of power ought not to

rest in the hands of individuals.

Admitted truths are not complained of as hardships. I never met with any

one who quarrelled with public opinion for its enmity to large fortunes:

on the contrary, every one who spoke with me on the subject was of the

same mind with everybody else. Amidst the prevalent desire of gain,

against which divines are preaching, and moralists are writing in vain,

there seems to be no desire to go beyond what public opinion approves.

The desire of riches merges in a regard to opinion. There is more of the

spirit of competition and of ostentation in it, than desire of

accumulation. It has been mentioned that there are not more than four or

five hundred affluent men,--worth 100,000 dollars and upwards,--in all

the six States of New England; in a population of above two millions.

The popular feeling is so strong against transmitting large estates, and

favouring one child, that nobody attempts to do it. The rare endeavours

made by persons of feudal prepossessions to perpetuate this vicious

custom, have been all happily frustrated. Much ridicule was occasioned

by the manoeuvres of one such testator, who provided for the portions of

a large estate reverting periodically; forgetting that the reversions

were as saleable as anything else; and that, under a democracy, there

can be no settling the private, any more than the public, affairs of

future generations. The present Patroon of Albany, the story of whose

hereditary wealth is universally known, intends to divide his property

among his children,--in number, I believe, thirteen. Under him has

probably expired the practice of favouring one child for the

preservation of a large estate.

This remote approach to an equalisation of property is, as far as it

goes, an improvement upon the state of affairs in the Old World, where

the accumulation of wealth into masses, the consequent destitution of

large portions of society, and the divisions which thus are established

between class and class, between man and man, constitute a system too

absurd and too barbarous to endure. The remote approach made by the

Americans to an equalisation of wealth is yet more important as

indicating the method by which society is to be eventually redeemed from

its absurdity and barbarism in respect of property. This method is as

yet perceived by only a few: but the many who imitate as far as they can

the modes of the Old World, and cherish to the utmost its feudal

prepossessions, will only for a time be able to resist the convictions

which the working of republican principles will force upon them, that

there is no way of securing perfect social liberty on democratic

principles but by community of property.

There is, as there ought to be, as great a horror in America as

everywhere else of the despotism that would equalise property

arbitrarily. Such a despotism can never become more than the ghost of a

fancy. The approach to equalisation now required by public opinion is

that required by justice; it is required that no man should encroach on

his neighbours for the sake of enriching himself; that no man should

encroach on his younger children for the sake of enriching the eldest;

that no man should encroach on the present generation for the sake of

enriching a future one. All this is allowed and required. But by the

same rule, and for the sake of the same principle, no one will ever be

allowed to take from the industrious man the riches won by his industry,

and give them to the idle: to take from the strong to give to the weak:

to take from the wise to give to the foolish. Such aggression upon

property can never take place, or be seriously apprehended in a republic

where all, except drunkards and slaves, are proprietors, and where the

Declaration of Independence claims for every one, with life and liberty,

the pursuit of happiness in his own way. There will be no attacks on

property in the United States.

But it appears to me inevitable that there will be a general agreement,

sooner or later, on a better principle of property than that under which

all are restless; under which the wisdom and peace of the community fall

far below what their other circumstances would lead themselves and their

well-wishers to anticipate.

Their moralists are dissatisfied. "Our present civilisation," says Dr.

Channing, "is characterised and tainted by a devouring greediness of

wealth; and a cause which asserts right against wealth, must stir up

bitter opposition, especially in cities where this divinity is most

adored." ... "The passion for gain is everywhere sapping pure and

generous feeling, and everywhere raises up bitter foes against any

reform which may threaten to turn aside a stream of wealth. I sometimes

feel as if a great social revolution were necessary to break up our

present mercenary civilisation, in order that Christianity, now repelled

by the almost universal worldliness, may come into new contact with the

soul, and may reconstruct society after its own pure and disinterested

principles."[20] This is a prophecy. Men to whom truth and justice are

not "hollow words" are the prophets of the times to come.

The scholars of America are dissatisfied. They complain of the

superficial character of scholarship; of the depression, or rather of

the non-existence, of literature. Some hope that matters will be better

hereafter, merely from the nation having grown older. The greater number

ascribe the mischief to men having to work at their employments; and

some few of these believe that America would have a literature if only

she had a hereditary aristocracy; this being supposed the only method of

leaving to individuals the leisure and freedom of spirit necessary for

literary pursuits. It has been pointed out that this is a mistake.

Nature and social economy do not so agree as that genius is usually

given to those who have hereditary wealth. The capability has so much

more frequently shown itself among the busy and poor than among the rich

who have leisure, as to mock the human presumption which would dictate

from whose lips the oracles of Heaven should issue. One needs but to

glance over the array of geniuses, of philosophers, of scientific men,

and even of the far lower order of scholars, to see how few of the best

benefactors of mankind have issued from "classic shades," "learned

leisure," "scientific retreats," &c., and how many more have sent up

their axioms, their song, their prophecy, their hallelujah, from the

very press of the toiling multitude. What tale is commoner than the

poverty of poets; the need that philosophers have usually had of

philosophy; the embarrassments and destitution of inventors; the straits

of scholars? The history of society shows that the highest intellect is

no more to be looked for especially amidst opulent leisure, than the

highest devotion in the cloister. The divine breath of genius bloweth

where it listeth. Men may hold out empty bags for it for ages, and not

catch it; while it fans the temples of some maimed soldier, toiling in

chains as an Algerine slave, or some rustic, treading

"In glory and in joy,

Behind his plough, upon the mountain side."

It is clearly a mistake that hereditary property, opportunity, leisure,

and such things, will make a literature, or secure scholarship: as great

a, mistake as that of the American newspaper editor who triumphantly

anticipated an age of statuary from there being an arrival at New York

of a statue by Canova, at the same time with a discovery of marble

quarries. It is true that the statue lies in the marble quarry: but it

is also true that it lies sepulchred in the far deeper recesses of some

one unfathomable human intellect: and to bring the one right intellect

to the quarry is the problem which is not given to be solved by mortal

skill,--by devices of hereditary ease and scientific retreats. This kind

of guidance is just that which the supreme Artist does not confide to

created hands.

It is true, however, that though opportunity and leisure are not

everything; that without union with useful toil, they are nothing,--yet,

with this union they are something,--much. The first attempt to advocate

leisure as the birthright of every human being was made now some

half-century ago.[21] The plea then advanced is a sound one on behalf of

other things besides philosophy, literature and scholarship. Leisure,

some degree of it, is necessary to the health of every man's spirit. Not

only intellectual production, but peace of mind cannot flourish without

it. It may be had under the present system, but it is not. With

community of property, it would be secured to every one. The requisite

amount of work would bear a very small proportion to that of disposable

time. It would then be fairly seen how much literature may owe to

leisure.

The professional men of America are dissatisfied. The best of them

complain that professions rank lower than in Europe; and the reasons

they assign for this are, that less education is required; and that

every man who desires to get on must make himself a party man, in

theology, science, or law. Professional service is not well paid in the

United States, compared with other countries, and with other occupations

on the spot. Very severe toil is necessary to maintain a respectable

appearance, except to those who have climbed the heights of their

profession; and to them it has been necessary. One of these last, a man

whom the world supposes to be blessed in all conceivable respects, told

me that he had followed a mistaken plan of life; and that if he could

begin again, he would spend his life differently. He had chosen his

occupation rightly enough, and been wholly satisfied with his domestic

lot: but his life had been one of toil and care in the pursuit of what

he now found would have done all it could for him in half the quantity.

If he could set himself back twenty years, he would seek far less

diligently for money and eminence, stipulate for leisure, and cultivate

mirth. Though this gentleman cares for money only that he may have it to

give away; though his generosity of spirit is the most remarkable

feature of his character, he would gladly exchange the means of

gratifying his liberal affections, for more capacity for mirth, more

repose of spirit. The present mercenary and competitive system does not

suit him.

I know of one professional man who has found this repose of spirit by

retiring from the competitive system, and devoting himself to an object

in which there was, when he entered upon it, but too little competition.

He had, some time ago, earned a competence for himself and his family. A

friend who visited him on his estate made some inquiries about

investments in the region where his host lived. "I am the worst person

you could ask," replied the host: "I know nothing about investments

here. We are very happy with the money we have; and we do not know that

we should be so happy if we had more: so I do not put myself in the way

of hearing about profitable investments." He has most profitably

invested his time and energy in the anti-slavery cause. He has been

perhaps the most eminent defender of the liberty of speech and of the

press in the United States; and is setting an example, not only to his

own children, but to the whole country, of what it is to follow after

life itself, instead of the mere means of living.