apathy of the South nor the disorder consequent on the presence of a
pauper class, I felt strongly tempted to jump to some hasty conclusions
about the happiness of citizenship in Cincinnati. I made a virtuous
determination to suspend every kind of judgment: but I found each day
as exhilarating as the first, and, when I left the city, my impressions
were much like what they were after an observation of twenty-four hours.
The greater part of the next morning was occupied with visiters; but we
found an interval to go out, under the guidance of friends, to see a few
things which lay near at hand. We visited the Museum, where we found, as
in all new museums whose rooms want filling up, some trumpery among much
which is worthy to remain. There was a mermaid not very cleverly
constructed, and some bad wax figures, posted like sentinels among the
cases of geological and entomological specimens; but, on the whole, the
Museum is highly creditable to the zeal of its contributors. There is,
among other good things, a pretty complete collection of the currency of
the country, from the earliest colonial days, and some of other
countries with it. I hope this will be persevered in, and that the
Cincinnati merchants will make use of the opportunities afforded by
their commerce of collecting specimens of every kind of currency used in
the world, from the gilt and stamped leather of the Chinese and
Siberians to the last of Mr. Biddle's twenty-dollar notes. There is a
reasonable notion abroad that the Americans are the people who will
bring the philosophy and practice of exchanges to perfection; and theirs
are the museums in which should be found a full history of currency, in
the shape of a complete set of specimens.
We visited Mr. Flash's bookstore, where we saw many good books, some
very pretty ones, and all cheap. We heard there good accounts of the
improved and improving literary taste of the place, shown in the
increasing number of book societies, and the superior character of the
works supplied to their orders. Mr. Flash and his partner are in favour
of the protection of foreign literary property, as a matter of interest
as well as principle.
We next went to the painting-room of a young artist, Mr. Beard, whose
works pleased me more than those of any other American artist. When I
heard his story, and saw what he had already achieved, I could not doubt
that, if he lived, he would run a noble career. The chief doubt was
about his health, the doubt which hangs over the destiny of almost every
individual of eminent promise in America. Two years before I saw him
Beard had been painting portraits at a dollar a head in the interior of
Ohio; and it was only a year since he suddenly and accidentally struck
into the line in which he will probably show himself the Flamingo of the
New World. It was just a year since he had begun to paint children. He
had then never been out of his native state. He was born in the
interior, where he began to paint without having ever seen a picture,
except the daubs of itinerant artists. He married at nineteen, and came
to Cincinnati, with wife, child, an empty purse, a head full of
admiration of himself, and a heart full of confidence in this admiration
being shared by all the inhabitants of the city. He had nothing to show,
however, which could sanction his high claims, for his portraits were
very bad. When he was in extreme poverty, he and his family were living,
or rather starving, in one room, at whose open window he put up some of
his pictures to attract the notice of passengers. A wealthy merchant,
Mr. G., and a gentleman with him, stopped and made their remarks to each
other, Mr. G. observing, "The fellow has talent, after all." Beard was
sitting behind his pictures, heard the remark, and knew the voice. He
was enraged. Mr. G. visited him, with a desire to encourage and assist
him; but the angry artist long resisted all attempts to pacify him. At
his first attempt to paint a child, soon after, all his genius shone
forth, to the astonishment of every one but himself. He has proved to be
one of the privileged order who grow gentle, if not modest, under
appreciation; he forgave Mr. G., and painted several pictures for him. A
few wealthy citizens were desirous of sending him to Italy to study. His
reply to every mention of the subject is, that he means to go to Italy,
but that he shall work his own way there. In order to see how he liked
the world, he paid a visit to Boston while I was there, intending to
stay some time. From a carriage window I saw him in the street, stalking
along like a chief among inferiors, his broad white collar laid over his
coat, his throat bare, and his hair parted in the middle of his
forehead, and waving down the sides of his face. People turned to look
after him. He stayed only a fortnight, and went back to Ohio expressing
great contempt for cities. This was the last I heard of him.
I have a vivid remembrance of three of his pictures of children. One of
a boy trudging through a millstream to school, absolutely American, not
only in the scenery, but in the air and countenance of the boy, which
were exquisitely natural and fresh. Another was a boy about to go
unwillingly to school; his satchel was so slung over his shoulder as to
show that he had not put it on himself; the great bite in the slice of
bread and butter intimated that breakfast was going on in the midst of
the grief; and the face was distorted with the most ludicrous passion.
Thus far all might have been done by the pencil of the mere
caricaturist. The triumph of the painter was in the beauty and grace of
the child shining through the ridiculous circumstances amid which he was
placed. It was obvious that the character of the face, when undisturbed
by passion, was that of careless gayety. The third was a picture of
children and a dog; one beautiful creature astride of the animal, and
putting his cap upon the head of the dog, who was made to look the sage
of the party. I saw and liked some of his pictures of another character.
Any one of his humorous groups might be thought almost worthy of Wilkie;
but there was repetition in them; two favourite heads especially were
popped in, in situations too nearly resembling. The most wonderful,
perhaps, of his achievements was a fine full-length portrait of a
deceased lady whom he had never seen. It was painted from a miniature,
and under the direction of the widower, whom it fully satisfied in
regard to the likeness. It was a breathing picture. He is strongly
disposed to try his hand on sculpture. I saw a bust of himself which he
had modelled. It was a perfect likeness, and had much spirit. All this,
and much more, having been done in a single year by one who had never
seen a good picture, it seems reasonable to expect great things from
powers so rapidly and profusely developed. Beard's name was little, if
at all, known beyond his native state while I was in the country. If he
lives, it will soon be heard of in Europe.
In the afternoon a large party called on us for an expedition into
Kentucky. We crossed the river in the ferryboat without leaving the
carriages, drove through Covington, and mounted slowly through a wood,
till we reached the foot of a steep hill, where we alighted. We climbed
the hill, wild with tall grass and shrubs, and obtained the view of
Cincinnati which is considered the completest. I now perceived that,
instead of being shut in between two hills, the city stands on a noble
platform, round which the river turns while the hills rise behind. The
platform is perfectly ventilated, and the best proof of this is the
healthiness of the city above all other American cities. A physician who
had been seven years a resident told me that he had been very delicate
in health before he came, like many others of the inhabitants; and, like
many others, he had not had a day's illness since his arrival. The
average of deaths in the city during the best season was seven per week;
and, at the worst time of the year, the mortality was less than in any
city of its size in the republic.
There is ample room on the platform for a city as large as Philadelphia,
without encroaching at all on the hill-sides. The inhabitants are
already consulting as to where the Capitol shall stand whenever the
nation shall decree the removal of the general government beyond the
mountains. If it were not for the noble building at Washington, this
removal would probably take place soon, perhaps after the opening of the
great Southern railroad. It seems rather absurd to call senators and
representatives to Washington from Missouri and Louisiana, while there
is a place on the great rivers which would save them half the journey,
and suit almost everybody else just as well, and many much better. The
peril to health at Washington in the winter season is great, and the
mild and equable temperature of Cincinnati is an important circumstance
in the case.
We hurried home to prepare for an evening party, and tea was brought up
to us while we dressed. All the parties I was at in Cincinnati were very
amusing, from the diversity in the company, and in the manners of the
natives of the East and West. The endeavour seems to be to keep up
rather than to disuse distinctive observances, and this almost makes the
stranger fancy that he has travelled a thousand miles between one
evening and the next. The effect is entertaining enough to the foreign
guest, but not very salutary to the temper of the residents, to judge by
the complaints I heard about sectional exclusiveness. It appeared to me
that the thing chiefly to be wished in this connexion was that the
Easterners should make large concessions and allowance. It would be well
for them to remember that it was they who chose the Western city, and
not the city them; and that, if the elderly inhabitants are rather proud
of their Western deeds, and ostentatiously attached to their Western
symbols, this is a circumstance belonging to the place, and deliberately
encountered, with other circumstances, by new residents; and that,
moreover, all that they complain of is an indulgence of the feelings of
a single generation. When the elderly members of the society drop off,
the children of all residents will wear the buckeye, or forget it alike.
And it certainly appeared to me that the cool assumption by Easterners
of the superiority of New-England over all other countries was, whether
just or not, likely to be quite as offensive to the buckeyes as any
buckeye exultation could be to the Yankees.
At one evening party the company sat round the drawing-room,
occasionally changing places or forming groups without much formality.
They were chiefly Yankees, of various accomplishments, from the learned
lawyer who talked with enthusiasm about Channing, and with strong sense
about everything but politics, in which his aristocratic bias drew him
aside into something like nonsense, to the sentimental young widow, who
instantly began talking to me of her dear Mr. ----, and who would return
to the subject as often as I led away from it. Every place was
remarkable for her dear Mr. ---- having been better or worse there; and
every event was measured by its having happened so long before or after
her dear Mr. ---- was buried. The conversation of the society was most
about books, and society and its leaders at home and abroad. The manners
of the lady of the house were, though slightly impaired by timidity,
such as would grace any society of any country. The house, handsomely
furnished, and adorned with some of the best of Beard's pictures, stood
on a terrace beautifully surrounded with shrubbery, and commanding a
fine view of the city.
At another party there was a great variety. An enormous buckeye bowl of
lemonade, with a ladle of buckeye, stood on the hall table, and
symbolical sprigs of the same adorned the walls. On entering the
drawing-room I was presented with a splendid bouquet, sent by a lady by
the hands of her brother, from a garden and conservatory which are the
pride of the city. My first introduction was to the Catholic bishop, my
next to a lady whom I thought then and afterward one of the cleverest
women I met in the country. There was a slight touch of pedantry to be
excused, and a degree of tory prejudice against the bulk of the human
race which could scarcely be exceeded even in England; but there was a
charming good-humour in the midst of it all, and a power both of
observation and reasoning which commanded high respect. One Western
gentleman sidled about in a sort of minuet step, unquestionably a
gentleman as he was in all essential respects; and one young lady, who
was, I fancy, taking her first peep at the world, kept her eyes
earnestly fixed on the guests as they entered, bowing unconsciously in
sympathy with every gentleman who bowed, and courtesying with every lady
who courtesied. She must have been well practised in salutation before
the evening was over, for the party was a large one. All the rest, with
the exception of a forward Scotchman, were well-bred, and the evening
passed off very pleasantly amid brisk conversation, mirth, and excellent
refreshments.
Another party was at the splendid house to which the above-mentioned
garden and conservatory belong. The proprietor has a passion for
gardening, and his ruling taste seems likely to be a blessing to the
city. He employs four gardeners, and toils in his grounds with his own
hands. His garden is on a terrace which overlooks the canal, and the
most parklike eminences form the background of the view. Between the
garden and the hills extend his vineyards, from the produce of which he
has succeeded in making twelve kinds of wine, some of which are highly
praised by good judges. Mr. Longworth himself is sanguine as to the
prospect of making Ohio a wine-growing region, and he has done all that
an individual can to enhance the probability. In this house is West's
preposterous picture of Ophelia, the sight of which amazed me after all
I had heard of it. It is not easy to imagine how it should have obtained
the reputation of being his best while his Cromwell is in existence. The
party at this house was the largest and most elegant of any that I
attended in Cincinnati. Among many other guests, we met one of the
judges of the Supreme Court, a member of Congress and his lady, two
Catholic priests, Judge Hall, the popular writer, with divines,
physicians, lawyers, merchants, and their families. The spirit and
superiority of the conversation were worthy of the people assembled.
The morning of the 19th shone brightly down on the festival of the day.
It was the anniversary of the opening of the Common Schools. Some of the
schools passed our windows in procession, their banners dressed with
garlands, and the children gay with flowers and ribands. A lady who was
sitting with me remarked, "this is our populace." I thought of the
expression months afterward, when _the gentlemen_ of Cincinnati met to
pass resolutions on the subject of abolitionism, and when one of the
resolutions recommended mobbing as a retribution for the discussion of
the subject of slavery; the law affording no punishment for free
discussion. Among those who moved and seconded these resolutions, and
formed a deputation to threaten an advocate of free discussion, were
some of the merchants who form the aristocracy of the place; and the
secretary of the meeting was the accomplished lawyer whom I mentioned
above, and who told me that the object of his life is law reform in
Ohio! The "populace" of whom the lady was justly proud have, in no case
that I know of, been the law-breakers; and in as far as "the populace"
means not "the multitude," but the "vulgar," I do not agree with the
lady that these children were the populace. Some of the patrons and
prizegivers afterward proved themselves "the vulgar" of the city.
The children were neatly and tastefully dressed. A great improvement has
taken place in the costume of little boys in England within my
recollection, but I never saw such graceful children as the little boys
in America, at least in their summer dress. They are slight, active, and
free. I remarked that several were barefoot, though in other respects
well clad; and I found that many put off shoes and stockings from choice
during the three hot months. Others were barefoot from poverty; children
of recent settlers, and of the poorest class of the community.
We set out for the church as soon as the procession had passed, and
arrived before the doors were opened. A platform had been erected below
the pulpit, and on it were seated the mayor and principal gentlemen of
the city. The two thousand children then filed in. The report was read,
and proved very satisfactory. These schools were established by a
cordial union of various political and religious parties; and nothing
could be more promising than the prospects of the institution as to
funds, as to the satisfaction of the class benefited, and as to the
continued union of their benefactors. Several boys then gave specimens
of elocution which were highly amusing. They seemed to suffer under no
false shame, and to have no misgiving about the effect of the vehement
action they had been taught to employ. I wondered how many of them would
speak in Congress hereafter. It seems doubtful to me whether the present
generation of Americans are not out in their calculations about the
value and influence of popular oratory. They ought certainly to know
best; but I never saw an oration produce nearly so much effect as books,
newspapers, and conversation. I suspect that there is a stronger
association in American minds than the times will justify between
republicanism and oratory; and that they overlook the facts of the vast
change introduced by the press, a revolution which has altered men's
tastes and habits of thought, as well as varied the methods of reaching
minds. As to the style of oratory itself, reasoning is now found to be
much more impressive than declamation, certainly in England, and I
think, also, in the United States; and though, as every American boy is
more likely than not to act some part in public life, it is desirable
that all should be enabled to speak their minds clearly and gracefully.
I am inclined to think it a pernicious mistake to render declamatory
accomplishment so prominent a part of education as it now is. I trust
that the next generation will exclude whatever there is of insincere and
traditional in the practice of popular oratory; discern the real value
of the accomplishment, and redeem the reproach of bad taste which the
oratory of the present generation has brought upon the people. While the
Americans have the glory of every citizen being a reader and having
books to read, they cannot have, and need not desire, the glory of
shining in popular oratory, the glory of an age gone by.
Many prizes of books were given by the gentlemen on the platform, and
the ceremony closed with an address from the pulpit which was true, and,
in some respects, beautiful, but which did not appear altogether
judicious to those who are familiar with children's minds. The children
were exhorted to trust their teachers entirely; to be assured that their
friends would do by them what was kindest. Now neither children nor
grown people trust any more than they believe because they are bid.
Telling them to have confidence is so much breath wasted. If they are
properly trained, they will unavoidably have this trust and confidence,
and the less that is said about it the better. If not, the less said the
better, too; for confidence is then out of the question, and there is
danger in making it an empty phrase. It would be well if those whose
office it is to address children were fully aware that exhortation,
persuasion, and dissuasion are of no use in their case, and that there
is immeasurable value in the opposite method of appeal. Make truth
credible, and they will believe it; make goodness lovely, and they will
love it; make holiness cheerful, and they will be glad in it; but remind
them of themselves by threat, inducement, or exhortation, and you impair
(if you do anything) the force of their unconscious affections; try to
put them upon a task of arbitrary self-management, and your words pass
over their ears only to be forgotten.
Before eight o'clock in the evening the Cincinnati public was pouring
into Mrs. Trollope's bazar, to the first concert ever offered to them.
This bazar is the great deformity of the city. Happily, it is not very
conspicuous, being squatted down among houses nearly as lofty as the
summit of its dome. From my window at the boarding-house, however, it
was only too distinctly visible. It is built of brick, and has Gothic
windows, Grecian pillars, and a Turkish dome, and it was originally
ornamented with Egyptian devices, which have, however, all disappeared
under the brush of the whitewasher. The concert was held in a large
plain room, where a quiet, well-mannered audience was collected. There
was something extremely interesting in the spectacle of the first public
introduction of music into this rising city. One of the best performers
was an elderly man, clothed from head to foot in gray homespun. He was
absorbed in his enjoyment; so intent on his violin, that one might watch
the changes of his pleased countenance the whole performance through
without fear of disconcerting him. There was a young girl, in a plain
white frock, with a splendid voice, a good ear, and a love of warbling
which carried her through very well indeed, though her own taste had
obviously been her only teacher. If I remember right, there were about
five-and-twenty instrumental performers, and six or seven vocalists,
besides a long row for the closing chorus. It was a most promising
beginning. The thought came across me how far we were from the musical
regions of the Old World, and how lately this place had been a
canebrake, echoing with the bellow and growl of wild beast; and here was
the spirit of Mozart swaying and inspiring a silent crowd as if they
were assembled in the chapel at Salzburg!