[Illustration: MARTIN VAN BUREN.
_President of the United States._
London. Published by Richard Bentley. 1839.]
ARISTOCRACY IN AMERICA.
FROM THE
SKETCH-BOOK OF A GERMAN NOBLEMAN.
EDITED BY
FRANCIS J. GRUND.
AUTHOR OF “THE AMERICANS IN THEIR MORAL, SOCIAL,
AND POLITICAL RELATIONS.”
“Why should the poor be flattered?
No: let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning.”
SHAKSPEARE’s _Hamlet_, Act iii. Scene 2.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.
1839.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Bangor House, Shoe Lane.
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
PART II.
CONTAINING A SHORT STAY IN BOSTON AND PHILADELPHIA.
CHAPTER I.
Arrival in Boston.--The Tremont House.--The Boston
Common.--Aristocratic Exclusiveness of the Higher Classes.--The
Massachusetts State-House.--Pathetic Elegy of a
Boston Lawyer.--An Independent Gentleman, not a Speculator.--American
Aristocracy contrasted with that of England.--The
Aristocracy of America continually in contact
with the Lower Orders.--Anecdote illustrating the Opposition
of the Lower Classes to Aristocracy.--An Aristocratic Patron.--Economy
of the American Aristocracy.--Northern and
Southern Aristocracy contrasted Page 3
CHAPTER II.
Cross-examination of Foreigners in the United States.--Definition
of Common Sense--its high Value in America.--Aversion
to Genius.--Sensible reply of a Boston Aristocrat
with regard to a Parvenu from the Country.--Ladies buying
themselves a Professor.--Boys at school learning for Money.--A
Boston fashionable Concert--Description of the Musicians
and the Audience.--High Value of Morality in a Cantatrice.--Dangers
of differing in matters of Taste from the leading
Coteries.--Secret Police in Boston.--Reflections. 28
CHAPTER III.
Maternal Affections of American Ladies--their Cause.--Want
of Romance in the Lives of American Gentlemen.--Moral
and Religious Cant.--Daniel Webster’s Principle of
resisting arrogant Innovation.--Reflections on the Democratic,
Aristocratic, and Monarchical Forms of Government.--The
Bunker’s Hill Monument.--Want of Patriotism in the Higher
Classes of Americans.--The English Feeling in Boston.--Americans
passing for Englishmen in Europe.--Anecdotes.--The
American Aristocracy take the House of Lords under their
Protection.--Their Contempt for the Western Settlers.--The
American Character not understood in Europe 54
CHAPTER IV.
A party of English Gentlemen at Dinner--their Patriotism.--Character
of John Bull in America.--The Englishman’s
Speech.--The American Answer.--Modesty of British Commercial
Agents in the United States.--Anecdote characteristic
of the Second Society 85
CHAPTER V.
A Literary Party.--The American Press.--Character of
Editors--their Rise and Progress.--Influence of Advertisements.--Old
and New Federalists.--Mode of operating on the
People 109
CHAPTER VI.
Unitarian Preaching.--Dr. Channing.--Character of his
Audience.--Religious Party on the Sabbath.--Discussion of
Dr. Channing’s Merits.--Moral Cant.--General Characteristic
of New England Society.--Women the only Aristocracy 132
CHAPTER VII.
The Nobleman’s Journal becomes more and more Aristocratic.--Wistar
Parties in Philadelphia.--Literary Gentlemen
in Philadelphia.--The Girard College.--Character of the late
Stephen Girard.--The Quakers--their Aristocratic Sentiments.--Quaker
Dress.--Philadelphia Ladies.--Good Living
in Philadelphia.--The Mansion House in Third Street.--Apostrophe
to the Fashionable Young Men and to the Men
of Family 156
PART III.
CONTAINING A TRIP TO WASHINGTON, AND A SHORT STAY
IN THE METROPOLIS.
CHAPTER I.
Journey to Baltimore.--Arrival in the City.--Barnum’s
Hotel.--The Washington Letter-writer--his Views of Politics.--Arrival
in Washington.--Street Manners of the People.--Hotels
and Boarding-houses.--High Life in the Metropolis.--The
Epicure House 173
CHAPTER II.
Corps Diplomatique in Washington.--What a Fashionable Lady thinks of
an Ambassador.--The Secretary of the Treasury.--Popularity-hunting
of American Statesmen--its Influence
on National Politics.--Mr. Woodbury’s Hospitality
to Literary Men.--Henry Clay.--Thomas H. Benton.--Salis
Wright.--James Buchanan.--Extraordinary Dinner-bell.--Office-hunters
in Washington.--State of Finance of the City.--Anecdote
of General Jackson and the Office-seeker.--General
Character of Washington Society compared with that
of other American Cities 201
CHAPTER III.
The Library of Congress.--Conversation with several Members
of Congress.--Practice of Public Speakers in Washington.--Van
Buren’s Method of parrying an Invective.--Discussion
of General Jackson’s Character.--Jackson and
Wellington’s Similarity of Character.--Mr. Van Buren’s
Character.--Instability of American Institutions.--Insecurity
of Property the Consequence of it.--Want of Enthusiasm in
the Higher Classes.--Their Toad-eating in Europe.--Cooper’s
last Publication.--Vanity of boasting of the Natural Resources
of the Country.--Thin-skinnedness of the Americans when
attacked by European Critics.--Toad-eating to the People.--Necessity
of establishing a Moral Quarantine for all Americans
returning from Europe.--Americans being ashamed of their
Institutions.--Anecdote of a vulgar rich American and the
Grand Duke of Tuscany.--Democratic Twaddlers.--Advantages
of a poor Capital 234
CHAPTER IV.
A Fashionable young American at Gadsby’s Hotel.--A Washington
Party.--Description of the Parlour and the Refectory.--Apple
Toddy.--Introduction to the Lady of the
House and to a Fashionable Belle.--The young Lady’s Literary
Taste.--Mr. Wise.--Grand Distinction between American
and English Conservatism.--American Literati.--A regular
American Tory--his Rise and Progress.--Mr. Rives.--Mr.
Preston.--Mr. Webster.--Pendant to the Old Bailey Speech
quoted by Miss Martineau.--Calhoun’s Remarks on the
Money-mania of his Countrymen.--Webster’s Answer and
pathetic Conclusion--his giving into Poetry and sinking the
Bathos.--John Quincy Adams.--Mr. Forsyth.--Anecdote of
an American Anchorite.--A Mazurka danced by four Fashionable
Ladies, a Polish Count, and three Members of the
_Corps Diplomatique_ 261
CHAPTER V.
Drive to the White-house.--Anecdote of Mr. Jefferson and
the British Ambassador.--Reception at General Jackson’s.--The
General’s Conversation and Character.--The President’s
Prayer.--Anecdotes of General Jackson.--Reception by
Mr. Van Buren.--Anecdote illustrative of Mr. Van Buren’s
Tact--his Character.--Character of the American Opposition.--Political
Hypocrisy.--Mr. Calhoun.--Mr. Kendall.--Conclusion 302
PART II.
CONTAINING A SHORT STAY IN BOSTON AND
PHILADELPHIA.
CHAPTER I.
Arrival in Boston.--The Tremont House.--The Boston
Common.--Aristocratic Exclusiveness of the Higher Classes.--The
Massachusetts State-House.--Pathetic Elegy of a Boston Lawyer.--An
Independent Gentleman, not a Speculator.--American Aristocracy
contrasted with that of England.--The Aristocracy of America
continually in contact with the Lower Orders.--Anecdote illustrating
the opposition of the Lower Classes to Aristocracy.--An Aristocratic
Patron.--Economy of the American Aristocracy.--Northern and Southern
Aristocracy contrasted.
“If there’s a hole in a’ your coats,
I rede you tent it;
A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes,
And faith he’ll prent it.”
BURNS.
The city of Boston, as may be known to many of my readers, is only
approachable by water and a long narrow isthmus, called “the neck.”
For this reason it is said to be “the head of New England;” but the
people in the country, who are extremely jealous of the prerogatives of
“the townsfolks,” merely call it “the great metropolis.” When it was
first settled, which is more than two hundred years ago,--for which
reason it is termed “an ancient and honourable city,” and the families
descended from those settlers “ancient and honourable families,”--it
contained, somewhere in the neighbourhood of what is now called
“Beacon-street,” three large promising bumps, which however, entirely
disappeared as the baby grew older, and are now smoothed down almost to
a flat.
The neck forms a large well-paved causeway, lined chiefly with wooden
houses, (in the principal streets the buildings are of stone or brick,)
and connects the city with the borough of Roxbury, which contains
alone above ten thousand inhabitants. Coming from New York, this is
the regular entrance to the town; and through it therefore I arrived,
driving straight up to the Tremont House. This is a large, massive
building with a granite front and a brick back, situated in the most
eligible part of the city, and considered as the crack house of the
place.
I found the interior very comfortable, and could have procured a
parlour and chamber for the modicum of thirty-six dollars (about seven
guineas) a week, if an acquaintance of mine, whom I accidentally met
at the bar, had not advised me to content myself with a bedchamber,
and dine at the ordinary; which, he said, would reduce my expenses to
about one-third, without diminishing very materially my respectability.
“Our _first_ people,” said he, “are satisfied with similar
accommodations: they little care how and where they sleep, provided
they live in a fashionable quarter; and prefer dining at an ordinary,
because at a public table they get more to eat for less money. We are
_republicans_,” added he, “especially in this city, which is called the
_cradle_ of liberty.”
Not knowing whether he meant this as a satire, I proposed to take a
walk with him before dinner, in order that I might have a _cicerone_ to
direct my first impressions of so classical a place; and accordingly
we sallied forth, taking the direction down Tremont-street towards the
Common.
“You see here at once the finest place in the whole city,” said my
cicerone; “one which might be enjoyed by all classes, if we had not
already outgrown the _cradle_. The people who live in these houses,
and who, with very few exceptions, have all been to England, do not
like to be seen in public. They hate the arrogance of our grocers and
mechanics, who would be apt to stare them out of countenance if they
were to show themselves at a public walk. ‘Humility,’ they say, ‘is not
the besetting sin of the American people: on the contrary, the lower
classes think themselves just as good as we are; and, what is worse,
they _know_ that they are our political masters.’ This, they argue,
is absolute madness, as a man may learn by a single trip to Europe.
‘There _must_ be a heaven’s aristocracy of talent and knowledge, ‘as
one of our great men[1] used to say,’ and consequently also a h--ll’s
democracy of ignorance and prejudice. The latter must not be encouraged
in any way, and, least of all, by suffering ourselves to be confounded
with it in private or public.’
“It was with the greatest difficulty,” continued he, “that our
aristocratic inhabitants of Beacon and Park streets[2] could be
prevailed upon to suffer benches to be placed in the Mall. They had two
reasons for opposing this popular measure: first, because it encouraged
idleness, inducing people who ought to be at work or at home to come
here and bask themselves in the sun; and, secondly, because it was
possible from those benches either to see the people at the windows of
the houses, which would be inconvenient,--or from the windows of those
houses to see the people on the benches, which, as the sight of poverty
and idleness does not particularly enhance the beauty of a landscape,
would be ‘shocking.’ Malicious persons say that there are yet other
reasons for opposing the benches; but I could never bring myself to
believe them.”
As we were ascending the little eminence on which stands the
State-house, we were met by a lawyer, who, learning that I was a
stranger come on purpose to see the capital of New England,--the
_ideal_ capital, namely, because New England is divided into six
States, each of which has its own metropolis,--accompanied us, in order
probably to become acquainted with my opinions, and in the evening
report them to his friends.
For the information of my readers I must observe, that the Boston
State-house is a heavy, clumsy piece of architecture, the style and
arrangement of which are neither striking nor convenient. I was told
that the building was originally intended to be erected on a much
larger scale; but that, from motives of republican economy, its wings
were afterwards clipped to their present dimensions,--the main body,
for which there were sufficient funds on hand, remaining full as large
as in the first design. The whole is crowned by a wooden cupola,
of such enormous height as not even to leave the possibility of an
illusion of its being made of stone, as in this case the walls would
not be strong enough to support it. These are confessions which, in
Boston, would not only render me unpopular, but actually expose me to
being mobbed; but, at a distance of two hundred miles, (I write this
in the city of New York,) one does feel less afraid of expressing
one’s opinions and sentiments. The interior of the house contains a
statue of Washington, by Chantrey; a broad staircase; a large hall of
representatives; and a number of smaller rooms for committees, and the
several offices of the departments of state.
“This house,” said the lawyer, after heaving a deep sigh, “once the
receptacle of a _noble_ body of men, is now open to every gingerbread
man from the country; or you would see it built in a different style,
worthy of the legislative assembly hall of a powerful republic, like
that of Massachusetts! But the fact is, instead of great men, our house
of representatives is now composed of members who advocate ‘mackerel
inspection,’ cider-presses, fences, raising potatoes, and brewing small
beer. Having no general ticket, each town or village must send its
quota of advocates of its own particular industry; who, moreover, come
here for no other purpose than to oppose the more elevated measures
proposed by the more enlightened members for Boston.”
“That is a fact,” observed my cicerone; “our city representatives wish
them all to ‘_where they don’t rake up fire o’ nights_.’ They have
so far degraded their station, that it is now a disgrace, and not an
honour, to be delegated by the people.”
“And what have they done to disgrace themselves?” demanded I.
“That is soon told,” replied the lawyer; “every country member comes
here with the determined purpose of opposing _us_, and, above all
things, to let the Bostonians contribute largely to the expenses of the
State. We pay nearly one-third of all the taxes; and yet we call this
_a republican government_!”
“One of equal justice, you ought to have said,” interrupted the
cicerone.
“As if justice could co-exist with universal suffrage!” ejaculated the
lawyer.
“I would pardon all,” resumed the cicerone, with a sarcastic smile,
“if our country members were to spend the money, which we pay them for
lounging about town, in a liberal and gentlemanly manner: but, instead
of that, they select the worst boarding-houses, from which they expel
our journeymen mechanics, in order to live cheap; and, instead of wine
and other liquors, which our merchants and grocers could make a profit
of, consume immense quantities of that dreadful stuff which, under the
name of ‘New England cider,’ is sometimes placed on our tables, and for
which even our _sharpest_ landlords dare not make a charge.”
“The positive fact is,” exclaimed the lawyer, “that few of our
representatives are gentlemen.”
“And that very few gentlemen will now-a-days consent to become
representatives,” added my cicerone, “except it be for Congress; and
even that will not last long, if things go on much longer in the way
they have for the last seven or eight years.”
As the disposition of the higher classes of Bostonians to ridicule the
institutions of their country were known to me, I paid no particular
attention to their remarks, which were made as we were gazing on
the statue “_of the hero of the revolution_.” I only remember that
the lawyer went on in a strain of uninterrupted eloquence, abusing
the trial by jury, the vote by ballot, and, _à fortiori_, universal
suffrage. “We just wanted that,” he said, “to complete our misery! As
if our mob had not enough power without it! Our democracy is of the
worst kind; it does not strive for equality, but for supremacy. It
becomes at once our jury, judge, legislator, and governor. You dare not
act as you please in your own house; you dare not educate your children
in your own way; you dare not express a wish of your own but what you
have to dread to be exposed in public, and have your name paraded in
the newspapers. Every man in this city is a spy on his neighbour, a
voluntary, unpaid police-agent of the rabble, that pries into all your
actions and motives, and is always ready to attribute them to the worst
source. And yet we talk of personal liberty, as if such a thing could
exist in a republic!”
“But is the description you give of your townsmen not applicable to all
classes?” demanded I; “is it only the labouring classes, or ‘the mob,’
as you call them, which act as spies to the community?”
“We are all naturally a curious, inquisitive people,” replied he; “and
a cunning one too, because we hardly ever answer one question except by
asking another; but all these faults are increased by the tendencies of
our institutions.”
“Have you been less curious or inquisitive before the revolution?”
“Not exactly that; but the inquisitiveness of the lower classes was
less troublesome. Our gentlemen were not obliged to notice it; they
were not directly responsible to the people; in short, _we_ were in
every respect more independent than we now are.”
I thought it best not to continue this sort of conversation; so,
quitting the house, and walking down Beacon-street, I pointed to a new
building which struck me as remarkably tasteful. “Here,” said I, “is
quite a stylish mansion! I did not expect to find so much neatness and
comfort in this city!”
“It is the mansion of Mr. ***,” replied my cicerone. “Don’t you think
it a fine building? And in the Italian style, too! The owner is one of
our richest men,--the son of Mr. ***, who came to Boston in the year
----. He made all his money in the ---- business, and must now be worth
upwards of a million of dollars. He has a very nice family too. His
wife was a Miss ***, daughter to Mr. ***, one of our most respectable
merchants; quite an _intellectual_ girl, with plenty of money. I
believe she brought him three hundred thousand dollars. Her sister
married a Mr. ***, one of the most _influential men_ in this city. They
have been a good deal abroad, and furnished their house in the best
style----”
Fearing that I should be condemned to listen to a long description of
the various articles of furniture brought home from London or Paris,
and at last to the statistics of the gentleman’s property,--a thing
which is by no means unfrequent in Boston,--I abruptly changed the
conversation by directing my cicerone’s attention to an unfinished
building, whose enormous height was entirely disproportionate to the
small surface it covered on the ground.
“This house,” I said, “seems to be perfectly new; how did it happen
that so eligible a site for building remained so long a time
unimproved?”
“It was a fine garden,” replied my cicerone, “belonging to Mr. ***,
living in the house adjoining it; but he sold it as a house-lot for the
neat little sum of twelve thousand dollars. It’s only a small piece of
ground, just large enough for two parlours on a floor; but our houses
are all three or four stories high, none of us wishing to be overlooked
by his neighbour.”
“Did he keep the ground on speculation?” demanded I.
“Bless your soul, sir!” exclaimed he; “do you think Mr. *** is a
speculator? He is a rich man, sir! he does not care for the money;
‘it’s only for the conven’ance of it,’ as the New Hampshire farmer
said, when he dunned the gentleman for a bushel of potatoes. Who the
deuce would not take twelve thousand dollars for a little garden,
scarcely large enough to raise cabbage for the family?”
“Especially in a town where no man possesses anything he would not
sell, provided a proper price be offered him,” added the lawyer.
While we were thus talking, we had reached the mill-dam which leads
over to Brooklyne, and from which we enjoyed a truly magnificent view
of the panorama of Boston. I observed to my companions that their city
was one of the finest in the Union; and that, as far as I might be
allowed to judge, it could be made a most delightful residence.
“It _was_ a delightful place,” replied the lawyer; “but our old
families are gradually losing their influence. Most of the fine houses
you see here are inhabited by _roturiers_; our society is getting worse
and worse every day; and, while we expend thousands for our public
schools, we lose our manners.”
“That is a fact,” exclaimed my cicerone; “our young men are not half
so polite as the old ones; and, what is worse, the influence of family
is entirely lost. Our young ladies, for instance, do not value birth
and good breeding half so much as money. They would rather marry a
woodcutter, if he had shown himself ‘clever’ in making money, than the
son of our oldest gentleman.”
“But pray, gentlemen,” interrupted I, half impatiently, “why cannot
you enjoy the many blessings Heaven has bestowed on you, without being
continually afraid of losing your dignity? I have heard more talk
about aristocracy and family in the United States than during my whole
previous life in Europe. You embitter your enjoyments and pleasures
by endeavouring to exclude from them all that come after you; and,
in doing so, wound the feelings of many an honest man, who, but for
a little more urbanity on your part, would be your friend instead
of your enemy. A question of interest which is now agitating the
country[3] may for a moment unite you; but the union is an unnatural
one, and on that account cannot last. Your state of society is such,
that, in the ordinary intercourse with your fellow-citizens, you must
necessarily offend more than you can gratify; and the mortifications
which two-thirds of the whole population are constantly suffering from
the small portion distinguished from the rest by nothing but success
in business, must add to the natural jealousies felt by the labouring
classes of all countries with regard to the rich. The distinction
between the different orders of society may be more _apparent_ in
England,--as they are, from historical reasons, with all people of
Saxon origin; but they are, nevertheless, far less offensive than yours.
“In all countries in which there exists an hereditary, wealthy
nobility, there exists a sort of good-will towards the inferior classes
which leads to the relation of patron and client, and through which
many an apparent injustice is smoothed over by liberality and kindness;
but the mere moneyed aristocracy which is establishing itself in
this country, however you may disguise the fact by cunning and soft
speeches, or an hyperbolical affectation of republicanism, _hates_ the
industrious masses over whom it strives to elevate itself.
“The exclusiveness of your wealthy brokers, that hoard money without
_spending_ it, offends the people without benefiting the artisan or the
tradesman; and the meanness with which your first people bargain for
every trifle to save a penny, renders their custom scarcely desirable
to respectable tradespeople. You are extravagantly fond of splendour,
and yet are afraid of displaying it. You must understand me right: I
speak of the rich, calculating Bostonians, who really live on their
property; not of your wealthy men in New York, who live on nine months’
credit. Besides, you yourself will allow that your aristocracy is far
from being generally well educated, and I do not see how this fault is
to be remedied as long as wealth constitutes the chief title to good
society.
“Your aristocracy, therefore, has not the power of dazzling the lower
classes with that air of self-possession and dignity by which gentlemen
of rank are at once recognised in Europe. On the contrary, the
manners of your rich people in their intercourse with less successful
aspirants to fortune are markedly coarse and vulgar, in order, I
believe, to give the latter to understand that they are sufficiently
_independent_--that, I think, is the word,--not to _care_ for their
opinion.”
Here the lawyer pleaded a pressing engagement; and left us, without
shaking of hands, or expressing a desire of seeing me again.
“You have made an enemy of that man,” observed my cicerone, “who will
make you a hundred more enemies if you should ever think of settling in
this city.”
“He did not seem to be offended,” replied I; “or I should have checked
my tongue before he left us.”
“You can never tell when these people are offended,” he rejoined; “but
you may rely upon one thing,--they will never forgive you. They lock
their wrath up, until a favourable opportunity presents itself for
taking summary vengeance. If I were in your place, _I would make myself
scarce_.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, I would not show myself too much in public, or in society; or
perhaps engage my passage to New York.”
“And you call this a free country!” exclaimed I, “and the manners of
your people those of high-minded gentlemen! Good manners in other
countries consist in putting every one at ease, which may be done
without being in the least degree familiar; but here the higher classes
seem to be determined upon making every one that is poorer than
themselves feel his inferiority, in order to make him as uncomfortable
as possible. And all this is done with an affectation of republican
simplicity, which makes every species of arrogance only the more
offensive as coming from an equal. The Southern people, whom you
pronounce much more aristocratic, and who perhaps are so in the English
sense of the word, are infinitely more amiable in their manners, merely
because _their_ exclusiveness relates to family and education, and
because they are not continually in contact with the labouring classes.
“In order to make any kind of aristocracy tolerable, it is necessary
that it should, in some shape or other, either protect the lower
classes, or never come in contact with them. The aristocracy of the
Atlantic cities is unfortunately neither a protector of the lower
orders, with whom it is continually wrestling for power; nor is it,
from its political position and mode of life, capable of avoiding
incessant contact with them. Hence arises a continual jarring: the rich
claiming a rank which the poor are unwilling to grant; and the poor
provoked by the _unprofitable_ arrogance of the rich, opposing to them
a species of insolence which a labouring man in Europe would hardly
dare to offer his equals.
“I recollect some time ago having travelled on board of a canal-boat
from Harrisburg to Pittsburg. The accommodations on board of these
boats, the most bigoted American--and I know I address myself to
none such--could not but call miserable; and yet, the majority being
satisfied, none dared to murmur. Our meals were shocking; cooked in the
worst manner, and served as no man in England would place a piece of
bread before a day labourer. During the night we were put on shelves,
of which three were placed one above the other at a distance of not
more than from sixteen to twenty inches, and so close together that the
feet of one person touched the head of his neighbour, and _vice versâ_.
To complete our misery, the cabin was not ventilated, the door being
kept closed in order to prevent those who lay next to it from taking
cold; and we slept without sheets, the same unwashed and uncleaned
blankets having perhaps served in turn to a hundred different pedlars
and emigrants. But the _ne plus ultra_ was one of the captains,[4]
a New-Englander by birth; a puny, pale, consumptive fellow with
sharp grey eyes, thin pointed nose, long deeply-indented chin, and a
dash across his face marking the opening of the mouth in the absence
of lips. His voice, something between a growl and a grunt, seemed
to proceed from a subterraneous cavern; while his hands, carefully
concealed in his pockets, indicated, by their position, the usual
current of his thoughts.
“This fellow, whom no man of correct judgment would have made keeper
of a pack of hounds, used to look upon the whole company with an air
of conscious superiority; strutting the deck as if he were commander
of a frigate, and scarcely deigning to address a word to any of
the passengers. You will excuse me for this digression, which you
will readily forgive when you reflect that I but agree with you in
the opinion that, much as the New-Englanders are to be esteemed at
home,--and there is none more ready to pay homage to their public and
private virtue than myself,--they are nevertheless among the dullest,
driest, and most disagreeable adventurers one meets abroad. This man
had the impudence to serve the same meat three times to his passengers:
first, with tea and coffee in the morning; then, with pure water at
noon; and lastly, though there was scarcely enough left to feed a dog,
the remainder of the dinner was once more brought upon the table in
the shape of a supper. Previous to that, we had been _kept_, as they
call it, by a fat round-faced German, who gave us at least _plenty_ to
eat, and a friendly face in the bargain; but our Yankee captain seemed
to be determined to make the most of our cash, without contracting the
irregular polygon of his face into anything approaching a smile.
“Under these circumstances, a German gentleman, who, to judge from his
merry voice, and two large bumps of alimentiveness gracing his circular
forehead, was fond of humour and good cheer, was amusing the company in
tolerable good English with a few unequivocal innuendoes in reference
to their _English comforts_; which were no sooner uttered than the
captain, probably thinking that the _foreigner_ was an _aristocrat_
not admiring the institutions of the country, told him that his
conversation was ‘most perfectly disgusting,’ and that, if he did not
‘hold his tongue,’ he should be obliged to put him ashore. These,
as far as I can recollect, were the very words of the ill-humoured
blackguard; and such an effect did they produce on the company that
none dared to demonstrate against his insulting conduct, though they
_whispered_ to one another that it was not altogether _gentlemanly_ or
_just_.
“Now, this man would not have been half so insolent if the gentleman
whom he reprobated had not been decently dressed, so as to lead him
to suppose that he wanted to play the aristocrat. It was a species of
revenge against what he imagined to be the taunts and sneers of ‘a
vulgar upstart,’ who, in spite of his money, resorted to this mode of
travelling for the sake of saving expenses.
“If the higher classes claim superior respect, it is but just they
should pay for it, as the higher classes do in Europe, where a man is
charged according to his rank; but how few of your fashionable people
are willing to lay out an additional groat for the distinction they so
ardently covet. They want to be esteemed merely because they are rich,
though their wealth does not benefit any of their fellow-citizens.”
“I remember a young Bostonian,” observed my cicerone, “who employed a
second-rate barber to cut his hair. The task not being performed to
his satisfaction, he indignantly rose from the chair, placed a piece
of twelve and a half cents (the usual price being twenty-five) on the
table, and, opening the door with great fury, told the affrighted
little Frenchman that he should never _patronise_ him again.
“Such instances of the liberality of our first people,” he continued,
“occur every day; as you may yourself witness by frequenting our
market. Every one of our gentlemen purchases his own provisions, so
as to render the collusion of the servants with the tradespeople,
which you know exists to a lamentable extent in England, wholly
impossible. Our aristocracy, I can assure you, are a shrewd people; but
unfortunately for the comforts of domestic life, their servants are
equally shrewd, and stay with their calculating masters no longer than
they can _help_ it.
“This state of things,” added he, after a pause, “does not exist at
the South. There the veriest fault of the people is generosity. The
slaves, who enable them to be aristocratic without being mean, stand
to them in the relation of vassals to their lords; and the planters,
not fearing the power and political influence of their slaves, but, on
the contrary, having an interest in their physical well-being, treat
them generally with humanity and kindness. There never was a great
moral evil, without producing also some good; and thus it is that the
very relation between master and slave engenders ties and affections
which no one can understand without having witnessed their effect. I
have seen the wives of planters watch at the sick-bed of their slaves,
and perform acts of charity which the misconstrued self-esteem of our
Northern people would have deemed menial, merely because the feelings
of _kindness_ and _gratitude_, which are strongest in the Southern
States, are, with us, construed into _obligation_ and _payment_;
two things which effectually destroy all poetry of life, even in
the relation of parents to their children. I am not here disposed
to underrate the miseries of slavery, as they will always appear to
the mind of an European; but I cannot entirely overlook some of the
advantages which result from it to the moral and social relations of
the country.”
And I could not but agree with my cicerone. If the tendency of wealth
in the Northern States is towards an aristocracy of money, the
aristocracy of the Southern States, founded on birth and education,
is a sort of offset to it,--a means of preventing the degeneration of
the high-minded democracy which once swayed the country, into a vulgar
oligarchy of calculating machines without poetry, without arts, and
without generosity.
“After all, the greatest benefactors of the American people were
Southerners, from the great father of the country, down to its last
chivalrous defender. Southern orators are yet the most eloquent;
Southern statesmen the most disinterested in their views of national
politics. Genius requires a heart as well as a head, or the seed lacks
the warmth necessary for its germination. Give me the man whose blood
flows quickly through his veins, with his ready perception and his
high sense of honour! If aristocracy, the original sin of society,
must be entailed upon man in every climate, then let me at once have
that of the South. Give me an aristocracy above the cares and toils of
ordinary life, which has the means and the leisure to devote itself to
higher pursuits than mere pecuniary gain and profit,--an aristocracy
to whom national honour and glory are not words without meaning, and
whose estimation of a people’s happiness is not deduced merely from its
statistics of commerce and manufactures!
“I have always hoped, and still hope, that the democratic principle
will, in America, prevail over all the others: but if this hope should
prove delusive; if, in the phraseology of one of the ablest senators in
the United States, ‘the multiplied wants of the country’ should beget
an universal worship of Mammon as the means of satisfying them; then I
would rather live surrounded by negroes, and, in the society of their
aristocratic but high-minded and generous masters, seek some feeble
consolation in the reflection that Rome and Greece were likewise cursed
with slavery. I would prefer the aristocracy of the Southern States
to that of the North, for precisely the same reason that I prefer,
generally, a nobleman to a _roturier_.”
“You are not very singular in your notions,” observed my cicerone. “I
do not remember a single European that came here but what expressed
the same opinion; but this singular coincidence has not in the least
changed the opinion of our people, who are perfectly satisfied that
their city stands unrivalled in the world for virtue, wisdom, and
patriotism.”
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Edward Everett, the present governor of Massachusetts.
[2] The two streets which face the Common.
[3] The United States Bank and the Sub-treasury system.
[4] These change at the different stopping-places of the boat.