The municipal elections which took place in New York two months ago,
and the legislative elections in Virginia, which occupied the whole
month of April, have revealed to the Opposition its whole strength.
Their success was unexpected, particularly in New York; I say success,
although the newly elected mayor belongs to the administration party,
because the Opposition has the majority in both houses of the common
council, the board of aldermen, and the board of assistants, who
govern in reality. Since that time, the Opposition has continued to
gain ground. There are some able statesmen in the Senate, who are
also skilful parliamentary tacticians; they knew that by irritating
the President they might force him to commit some act of imprudence,
and this motive was not without its weight in the adoption by the
Senate of resolutions censuring his conduct in regard to the Bank.
The old General felt this censure very sensibly, and replied to it
by a protest, which his best friends consider a mistake, and which
the Senate refused to have entered on its journal. It is a matter of
surprise that Mr Van Buren, whose sagacity all admit, did not interpose
his influence to prevent the sending of this message. One of the
fundamental maxims of American politics is, that the sword and purse
should not be united in the same hands; that is, that the President,
to whom the constitution has entrusted the military force of the
Republic, should not also be the keeper of the public money. This is
here a universally received, undisputed maxim; and the President's
protest clashes with this doctrine. It became necessary, therefore, to
follow up the protest by an explanatory message, which the Opposition
calls a recantation, and which in truth is one. This retractation
or explanation has not, however, destroyed the effect of the first
message, and the consequence has been a hesitation in the democratic
ranks. The Virginia elections, which were then going on, show that they
were influenced by it, and some other elections of less importance have
turned out unfavorably to the Administration.
In Albany, the head-quarters of Mr Van Buren's friends, the
Opposition has carried the municipal elections. The partisans of
the Administration have, as if in sport, added fault to fault. A
committee of the House of Representatives, appointed to examine into
the doings of the Bank, of which the majority were Jackson men, as the
administration has the upper hand in that body, committed a series of
blunders: there was a paper war between the committee and the directors
of the Bank, in which the former were completely unhorsed, and had
no better resource than the brutal idea of ordering the President
and directors to be taken into custody by the sergeant-at-arms. Such
a proposition was revolting to every body; the majority lately so
compact, already exhibits symptoms of disaffection, and several recent
votes show that the Opposition is gaining ground. One might say that
the prudent, those, to use the words of the great master of diplomacy,
_whose watches go faster than those of their neighbours_, are getting
ready to desert. Out of the legislative houses, the Opposition is
organising energetically for the general elections, which are to take
place next autumn; it is making preparations in the spirit with which
they are made, when one feels sure of victory, and is determined that
it shall be a decisive one. In New York, for example, the common
council have removed all the Jackson men from municipal offices; all
have made way for the opponents of the Administration. The mayor will
have an Anti-Jackson secretary, because that officer is chosen by the
common council. These removals are harsh measures, but the friends
of the Administration have no right to complain, for they have set
the example on a larger scale, by removing hundreds of custom-house
officers and postmasters. Without pretending to justify these violent
acts, it should be considered that something more is involved than
merely the removing of an adversary to make way for a friend. The
Opposition wish that the inspectors of streets should be Anti-Jackson
men, because the scavengers, who are in their employ, have a vote; just
as the Administration insists upon all the postmasters being Jackson
men, because in the country they have a certain influence.
It is less than a year since General Jackson visited the great towns
of the North. He was received with acclamations such as neither
America had ever before witnessed. Washington never excited half
the enthusiasm; neither Bolivar, Pizarro, nor the great Cortez was
ever saluted with such pompous epithets. It was an apotheosis. It
is not yet a year since, and already abuse has succeeded to the
most extravagant praise. A few days ago, I was grieved to read some
unbecoming pleasantries upon the old General's scars. What will be held
sacred, if honourable wounds, all received in front, fighting for one's
country, are to become a subject of low jests? The war of the President
on the Bank was certainly unjust and disastrous to the country; the
measures taken in his name against that institution, were impolitic and
unauthorised by law; the violent passion and imperious temper displayed
by him in the affair, make a strange figure in the seat, that had been
occupied by sages like Washington and his successors. All this is
true; but when we look back on fifty years of public services, we are
filled with grief and indignation to think, that at the end of so long
a career, outrage and ingratitude will be, perhaps, his only reward.
Can he have been raised so high, only that his fall should be greater?
Is he destined to furnish another proof of the instability of popular
favour in every age and all countries? But instead of dwelling on these
unpleasant reflections, I will rather describe the scene now exhibited
literally under my windows.
The town of Lowell dates its origin eleven years ago, and it now
contains 15,000 inhabitants, inclusive of the suburb of Belvedere.
Twelve years ago it was a barren waste, in which the silence was
interrupted only by the murmur of the little river of Concord, and the
noisy dashings of the clear waters of the Merrimac, against the granite
blocks that suddenly obstruct their course. At present, it is a pile of
huge factories, each five, six, or seven stories high, and capped with
a little white belfry, which strongly contrasts with the red masonry
of the building, and is distinctly projected on the dark hills in the
horizon. By the side of these larger structures rise numerous little
wooden houses, painted white, with green blinds, very neat, very snug,
very nicely carpeted, and with a few small trees around them, or brick
houses in the English style, that is to say, simple, but tasteful
without and comfortable within; on one side, fancy-goods shops and
milliners' rooms without number, for the women[Y] are the majority in
Lowell, and vast hotels in the American style, very much like barracks
(the only barracks in Lowell); on another, canals, water-wheels,
waterfalls, bridges, banks, schools, and libraries, for in Lowell
reading is the only recreation,[Z] and there are no less than seven
journals printed here. All around are churches and meeting-houses
of every sect, Episcopalian, Baptist, Congregationalist, Methodist,
Universalist, Unitarian, &c., and there is also a Roman Catholic
chapel. Here are all the edifices of a flourishing town in the Old
World, except the prisons, hospitals, and theatres; everywhere is heard
the noise of hammers, of spindles, of bells calling the hands to their
work, or dismissing them from their tasks, of coaches and six arriving
or starting off, of the blowing of rocks to make a mill-race or to
level a road; it is the peaceful hum of an industrious population,
whose movements are regulated like clockwork; a population not native
to the town, and one half of which at least will die elsewhere,
after having aided in founding three or four other towns; for the
full-blooded American has this in common with the Tartar, that he is
_encamped_, not established, on the soil he treads upon.
Massachusetts and the adjoining small States of New England contain
several manufacturing towns similar to Lowell, but none of them on
so large a scale. An American, well acquainted with the character of
his countrymen, gave me the following account of the origin of these
towns, and of Lowell in particular. "In 1812," said he, "the United
States declared war against Great Britain to defend the honour of their
insulted flag. Boston and the rest of New England opposed the war,
and thus drew upon themselves the reproaches of their brethren of the
Middle and Southern States. The fact, is, they were quite as sensitive
as the rest of their countrymen to any insult offered their flag by the
mistress of the ocean; the patriotism of the New Englanders is above
suspicion; they began the war of Independence, and they supported the
principal burden of that war. They were, likewise, resolved to have
satisfaction for the outrages committed by England, for it was they
who had the greater number of seamen impressed by the English;[AA] but
they did not wish to have recourse to the cannon's mouth. A commercial
people, they had much to lose and nothing to gain by a maritime war;
a clear-sighted race, they saw that the chance of war was on the side
that could muster the largest armies and the most numerous navy; in
a word, war appeared to them to be a barbarous, old-fashioned means,
unworthy of their inventive wit. The Yankees never do anything like
other people, but they always have some contrivance in store, that
nobody else would have ever thought of. After a careful examination,
the Yankee said to himself, the best mode of warfare against the
English will be to attack the sources of their wealth; now what is the
principal source of the wealth of Great Britain? Its manufactures.
Among its manufactures which are the most productive? Why the cotton.
Well then, we will set up spinning works and manufactories of cottons;
this will be our war on Great Britain. Ten or twelve years were passed
in making experiments, in preliminary preparations and attempts to form
a class of operatives, and to make machinery. In 1823, the Merrimack
corporation began operations at Lowell, where the River Merrimack has a
fall of 32 feet, creating a vast motive power, and has been followed by
the Hamilton, Appleton, Lowell, Suffolk, Tremont, Lawrence, and other
companies in succession."
Such is Lowell. Its name is derived from that of a Boston merchant, who
was one of the first promoters of the cotton-manufacture in the United
States. It is not like one of our European towns that was built by some
demi-god, a son of Jupiter, or by some hero of the Trojan war or by the
genius of an Alexander or a Cæsar, or by some saint, attracting crowds
by his miracles, or by the whim of some great sovereign, like Louis
XIV. or Frederic, or by an edict of Peter the Great. It was neither a
pious foundation, nor an asylum for fugitives, nor a military post;
but it is one of the speculations of the merchants of Boston. The same
spirit of enterprise, which a year ago suggested the idea of sending
a cargo of ice from Boston to Calcutta round Cape Horn, to cool the
drink of Lord William Bentinck and the nabobs of the India company,
has led them to build up a town here, wholly at their own expense,
with all the buildings required by the wants of a civilised community,
in order to be able to manufacture white cottons and calicoes; and
they have succeeded, as they always succeed in their speculations. The
semi-annual dividends of the manufacturing companies in Lowell, are
generally from 5 to 6 per cent.
The cotton manufacture in America, which dates only from the last
war with England, is rapidly extending, although the modifications
of the tariff, required by the attitude of South Carolina last year,
have somewhat tended to check the manufacturing spirit. Boston seems
destined, like Liverpool, to have its Lancashire behind it. As
water-courses abound in New England, according to the nature of all
primary regions, steam-engines may be dispensed with for a long time to
come. This part of the country is very unproductive, and it required
all the perseverance and obstinacy, even, of the Puritans to introduce
into it the comforts of life. It is rugged, rocky, mountainous, and
bleak, consisting in fact of the first ridges of the Alleghanies,
which extend hence to the Gulf of Mexico, continually receding from
the Atlantic as they stretch southwards. The inhabitants have an
extraordinary mechanical genius, they are patient, attentive, and
inventive, and they must succeed in manufactures; or rather they have
already succeeded, and Lowell is a miniature Manchester. About 30,000
bales of cotton, or one sixth of the whole domestic consumption (see
_Note 14_), are consumed in Lowell, besides which there are several
manufactories of broadcloths, cassimeres, and carpets. To strengthen
the resemblance between their city and Liverpool, the Boston merchants
determined to construct a railroad from Boston to Lowell, the length of
which is 26 miles; there was already a canal, as there is one between
Liverpool and Manchester, but this has been found insufficient, as it
was at Liverpool and Manchester. They would not permit this road to be
constructed in the usual hasty and provisional manner of the American
works, but they determined to have something Roman, and their engineers
have given it to them, and have certainly made the most solid railroad
in the world. They have only left out the beautiful masonry, the arches
of hewn stone, the columns, and all the monumental architecture, which
makes the Liverpool and Manchester railroad one of the wonders of
modern times; these magnificent ornaments yield no dividends. Yet the
Boston and Lowell railroad in its Roman or Cyclopean simplicity, will
cost 56,000 dollars a mile.
In travelling through the neighbourhood of Manchester, one is struck
with wonder at the sight of the great spinning works; in looking at
those huge white buildings by moon-light, projecting themselves on
the dark back ground above the plain, those hundreds of windows from
which stream the brilliant rays of gas-lights, those lofty chimneys,
higher than the highest obelisks, one is tempted to think them palaces,
abodes of pleasure and joy. Alas! the delusive splendours! alas! the
whited sepulchres! All this fairy illusion vanishes, when one crosses
their door-sill, sees the haggard looks and ragged clothes of the crowd
that fills these vast structures, beholds those poor children whom
Parliament vainly strives to protect against their fathers, who are
incessantly begetting new competitors, and against the lash of their
overseers. On arriving at Lowell, the first impression of pleasure
caused by the sight of the town, new and fresh like an opera scene,
fades away before the melancholy reflection, will this become like
Lancashire? Does this brilliant glare hide the misery and suffering of
operatives, and those degrading vices, engendered by poverty in the
manufacturing towns, drunkenness and prostitution, popular sedition
hanging over the heads of the rich by a frail thread, which an ordinary
accident, and slight imprudence, or a breath of the bad passions, would
snap asunder? This question I hasten to answer.