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.
“Peace, I say! hear mine host of the Garter! Am I politic? Am I
subtile? Am I a Machiavel? Shall I lose my doctor? No; he gives me the
potions, and the motions. Shall I lose my parson? My priest? My Sir
Hugh? No; he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs.”
_Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act iii. Scene 1.
To-day I dined with an English gentleman, who had been settled a great
number of years in the country, and was married to an American lady of
very good family.
The company was composed principally of merchants and manufacturers,
with an admixture of a few travelling; agents of British commercial
houses, whom it was not difficult to recognise as the lions of
the party. They were not, properly speaking, members of the first
society, because foreigners who are once married and settled in the
country seldom belong to it, unless they are immensely rich; but
they thought themselves nevertheless considerably above the second,
not one of them having accepted an invitation to the latter for the
last six months,--preferring infinitely no society at all to the
degradation of mixing with inferior persons. Besides, one of them,
having of late moved into “a more respectable neighbourhood,” was
preparing to entertain his new fashionable acquaintance with a large,
sumptuous party, which he hoped would at once open to his sons and
daughters--“the old man and woman” are not so easily promoted--the road
to the highest circles.
Dinner, which was one of the plainest I ever made in the United States,
was served in the usual manner; only that the gentleman of the house
piqued himself on having everything cooked in the true English fashion.
I believe he had a beef-steak brought upon the table for the sole
purpose of showing the difference between the English and American ways
of dressing it. “This is an English steak,” said he; “at least you do
not see it besmeared with rancid butter, and N.B. cooked with Liverpool
coal.” The _roast beef_ was recommended in the same manner, as being
“roasted in the true English style;” and the same was said of the
parboiled vegetables, and at last of the fire-proof pudding.
“I hope,” said one of the gentlemen, who was an American at the head of
a large manufacturing establishment, “none of our friends is troubled
with dyspepsia.”
“I like the English kitchen better than any other,” replied our
entertainer, “whatever preference my friends may give to the French or
Italian.”
“At any rate it is preferable to the American,” observed another
Englishman.
“And if not that, we at least know how to eat,” remarked another.
“That,” said our host, “no one will deny. The custom of eating against
time exists only in America.”
“Why,” observed the manufacturer peevishly, “I have seen many an
Englishman, sitting down at our public tables, play as good a knife and
fork, and as quickly too, as one of our ‘natives.’”
“That was done in self-defence,” cried the Englishman, “if it was done
at all.”
“If the custom of dining at _tables d’hôte_ existed in England,”
rejoined the manufacturer, “your people would soon learn _speed_ and
_ingenuity_ in eating.”
“I hope, sir, such a custom will never be introduced.”
“And then you forget that at a public table in America you frequently
meet with people who, in England, would be content to make their dinner
at a beef-shop.”
“I often suspected something of the kind.”
“Why, sir, this is a republican country; we have no _public_
distinction of classes.”
“So much the worse for you.”
“But is it not very strange,” observed the manufacturer, somewhat
angrily, “that you Englishmen, who come here for no other purpose in
the world but to make money, who ‘underwork and undersell’ us wherever
you can, should be constantly railing against this country? I have seen
Scotchmen, Irishmen, Frenchmen, and Germans who were all satisfied to
live amongst us and acquire property; but I do not remember a single
Englishman that was not constantly talking of the superiority of
England over America. The English are the only foreigners that never
become _bonâ fide_ citizens. They always have a leaning towards their
own country, however they may have forsworn their sovereign, and
pledged fidelity and allegiance to the United States.”
“I consider all you have said as highly in our favour,” said our host.
“But I do not,” remarked the manufacturer. “I consider it downright
perjury to come and settle amongst us,--to apply for the privileges of
citizenship,--to go through the requisite formalities,--to pledge an
oath of allegiance to the country,--to renounce publicly one’s former
sovereign,--to exercise all the rights of native Americans conferred by
these acts,--and then, after all, to remain a foreigner at heart, and
to abuse this country whenever an opportunity presents itself of doing
so with impunity. If you dislike this country so much, why do you stay
in it?”
“Because I cannot do better,” replied the Englishman.
“That’s an old, but nevertheless a good one,” remarked one of the
company.
“Oh!” exclaimed the manufacturer, “we know _your_ principles well
enough. Your John-Bullism is past redemption.’”
“I trust it is,” said the gentleman, colouring to his ears. “Nothing,
God willing, shall transform me into a Yankee!”
“But you are married in this country; you have children born in
America;--what countrymen shall _they_ be? They cannot be called
Englishmen, I am sure.”
“I am sorry for it; but that is not my fault. I will, at least, give
them an _English education_.”
“Pray, are you a naturalized citizen?”
“I have never perjured myself,” replied the sturdy representative of
John Bull.
“But did I not see you the other day at the polls?”
“I did not vote, I merely distributed tickets.”
“What a nice distinction this is; you did not vote, you merely
electioneered!”
“That was done from principle.”
“What principle can that be? What interest can you take in our politics
without being a citizen?”
“I have no interest at all in it. I merely do my duty by exerting
myself to the utmost of my power to insure the election of the
worst candidates, in order that you may the sooner be cured of your
republican notions.”
“If this is really your object, you ought to have been lynched long
ago.”
“I tell this merely to my friends.”
“Pray, do not quarrel with him,” interrupted one of the guests,
addressing himself to the manufacturer; “our friend has always exerted
himself on _your side_ of the question.”
“That is a fact,” observed another. “Though you start from apparently
very different premises, and appear to have very different motives,
there is really no great difference between you in the end; so I think
you had better shake hands, and drink to _England and the United
States_!”
“England and the United States!” echoed the company.
“England and the United States!” repeated our host; “and may the latter
never forget _what they owe_ to the former!”
“John Bull to the back-bone!” cried the manufacturer. “All in his own
house too!”
“But is it true,” demanded another Englishman, who, I was told, was an
ironmonger, “that Mr. *** is not yet naturalized?”
“I am,” said he, “to all intents and purposes a _British subject_.”
“That’s no answer to my question,” replied the ironmonger; “a man may
be a British subject, and still for all purposes in _this_ country a
naturalized American. I am a citizen of _both_ countries. I hold real
estate in Nova Scotia and in the United States.”
“Then you do not hold it according to law.”
“Pshaw!” ejaculated the ironmonger, “who cares for that? Millions of
acres of land in this country belong to foreigners.”
“But you cannot be a _bonâ fide_ holder of real estate in the United
States without being a citizen, and you cannot become a citizen without
renouncing all allegiance to foreign countries. You must have perjured
yourself with regard to England or America.”
“Poh! poh! Talk of perjury in such matters! It’s a sort of custom-house
oath which binds a person no farther than his word. I would not be
such a fool as to give up my rights as a British subject. Times may
change;--would you have me put all my eggs into one basket?”
“A nice creed this!” cried the manufacturer; “and such are the men that
govern our elections! And you vote just like the rest of us?”
“And why should I not?”
“Pray, don’t quarrel,” said the same mediator that had before
reconciled the manufacturer with our host; “_he_, too, votes on _your_
side. Why do you scrutinize his motives if his _acts_ coincide with
your own? _England and the United States!_ I say,--_their interests are
one and the same; may they never be divided by party spirit_!”
This toast was drunk with all the honours; after which the gentleman
of the house rose, and made, as far as I can recollect, the following
_speech_:--
“Gentlemen,
“I am glad to see that you are by degrees coming to your senses. You
cannot but agree with me, that it is the best policy of the United
States to cultivate the friendship of Great Britain. It is, I am
sure, the wisest thing you can do, after having been so foolish as to
separate from us. As for _us_, we do not care three straws for that
separation; we can get _along_ without you.”
“That’s an Americanism,” remarked one of the company: “he is a
stickler for Old England, and talks of going _along_!”
“I plead guilty to the charge,” replied the host. “The fact is, I have
been so long in the United States that I have almost forgotten the
English language.”
“Go on, sir! Go on!” cried the company; “never mind the language.”
“Well, gentlemen, I said we did not care three straws for that
separation; neither do we, for our annual commercial balances against
you are now greater than they ever were before the revolution. I
only wish we could get rid of Canada in the same way. As for your
_independence_, it’s all my eye and Betty Martin, as the saying goes,
as long as you borrow money, and we are the ones that lend it you. A
man in debt has lost his freedom, and the same holds of a nation.
“As regards the good understanding which exists between England and
the United States, it is based, I am sure, on the most rational
basis: the creditor likes to see his debtor prosper, in order that
he may have a chance of being paid; and the debtor does not wish to
break with his creditor, in order that the latter may not be too hard
upon him, and, perhaps, trust him again. This, I believe, is all
the sympathy which exists between the two countries at present; the
antagonistical principles of their respective governments admitting
of none other. With regard to myself, gentlemen, I can only say that,
as the partner of an English house, I have always found the Americans
an honest, clever, enterprising people; a little too enterprising by
the by, especially with regard to manufactures” (here he cast a side
glance at the representative of ‘the American system’); “but, as this
has done _them_ more harm than _us_, I am not disposed to quarrel
with them. The Americans are, no doubt, our best customers; for which
reason we like to see them in Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds, &c. in
precisely the same manner as we Englishmen meet with more civility
in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore, than in any other
part of the Union. This is all natural enough; and, in proportion as
_trade_ increases, our _friendship_ must increase with it: and as I,
for one, am really disposed to promote the latter as far as lies in
_my_ power, I will give you ‘The trade between England and America!’”
The trade between England and America was then drunk in a bumper; when,
after sundry coughs and expectorations, the manufacturer rose and
delivered himself in these terms:--
“Gentlemen,
“I am a manufacturer,--I presume you all know what that means;
and I am _proud_ to be one.” (To the host.) “I think, sir, that
without manufactures this country would be entirely dependent on
Great Britain. Our manufactures, sir, make us independent; without
manufactures we should still be the slaves of the old country.”
(“Oh, oh!” and cries of “Go on, go on!”) “But, sir, I will go
further; I will come to the point; I will go beyond it! What, sir,
would become of this country without manufactures in case of a war
with England?”--(Several gentlemen, “We don’t want war; we want
peace.”)--“Gentlemen, if you interrupt me, I will sit down.”
(“No, no! go on! Let us have it in true style.”)
“Well, gentlemen, I have asked the gentleman what would become of us
without manufactures in case of a war? Here is a question! will you
answer me that? Can you deny that our manufactures are destined at
some future day not only to compete with those of England, but to
_beat_ them? And as to the insinuation, sir, that the establishment
of manufactures has hurt this country, I look upon it with scorn; and
what is worse than scorn, with _pity_,--nay, with perfect contempt.”
(Cries of, “That is personal;” “that won’t do, Mr. ***; you are out of
order.”)
“If I was out of order, I am sorry for it; I did not mean to be
personal; I only wished to state the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth. The gentleman hinted that we have not enough
capital or perseverance to carry on that branch of industry; at
least, I understood him to say so; but _I guess_ he will find himself
mistaken. If we have not enough perseverance, we have at least ‘an
awful sight of hang-on.’” (Shouts of “That’s right: give it to
him!” and laughter.) “But, sir, I gladly reciprocate; nay, I feel
absolutely obliged to you for the kind sentiments you expressed in
reference to this country. I hope the friendship between England and
this country will be eternal; I mean to say, _I trust_ it will last
for ever. England cannot but _profit_ by it, and so must _we_. Why
then should we be eternally quarrelling with one another. I can see no
good arising from it in any shape; so far from it, on the contrary, _a
pretty considerable deal_ of evil.
“It has been the custom of a few ignorant Englishmen to underrate the
American character; but _I calculate_ the English _nation_ had nothing
to do with it, and must, since Lord Brougham’s establishment of common
schools, have learnt the true character of our people. But, as I
always say, gentlemen, there is not the least cause of enmity between
us. We both speak the same language, and were originally one and the
same people; we intermarry and trade with one another; and, in short,
do all things which mark us as civilized nations. On this account,
gentlemen, and because it does not behove a Christian people (as one
of our orators said), even in time of war, to harbour any ill will
towards one another,[9] I give you, gentlemen, and I trust it may be
a sentiment to which you will all cordially respond,--‘Success to the
enterprise of both countries; and may they never forget _their common
stock_!’”
“A fine _stump speaker_[10] this!” observed one of the Americans.
“Rather too _Kentuckical_, though,” remarked another; “but the fact
is, there are so many _nice_ shades of our meaning, that we cannot
express them in any other language.”
* * * * *
I again saw my cicerone in the evening, and related to him the
conversation I had listened to, expressing my surprise at the continual
feuds between the English and Americans.
“This ought not to astonish you,” observed he: “most of the commercial
agents, who come here either to settle or to reside, find themselves,
for the first time in their lives, in what is called ‘the first
society,’ apparently on a par with our most influential, _i. e._
moneyed citizens. This, of course, strikes them as extraordinary,
and leads them to the conclusion that the first society in America
must be essentially different from the society called ‘the first’
in England or Europe in general; to which they could not, possibly,
procure themselves an introduction. This, as you may perceive, must
be the natural effect of their modesty, for which you ought not to
blame them, and for which I, for one, am rather disposed to give them
credit; especially as I have seen the same persons, who in America
flourished in the most fashionable circles, on their return to England
not even admitted to the society of a London club, but content with a
place in the counting-room of their employers, and a table in a city
coffee-room. Though occasionally thrown into the company of _our_
statesmen, they never approached, by chance, a member of parliament in
their own country; and, although here considered as men of ability,
they were satisfied with living in obscurity at home.
“As regards their political opinions,” he continued, “few of them, I
believe, have received a liberal education, so as to be able to view
our institutions with an enlarged, impartial mind, or to separate an
accidental evil from the general good of which they may be productive
to the great mass of the people. Instead of seeing in our government a
practical illustration of the political doctrines abstracted from the
experience of all countries and of every age, they view in it only a
modification of the government of England, and apply to it the scale of
their own country.
“For this we can the less blame them, as many of our most distinguished
statesmen and politicians take precisely the same view of our
institutions; referring them constantly to the British model, and
considering nothing as legitimate which cannot be directly traced
to, or deduced from, a similar institution in Great Britain. If you
believe them, no other people but the English are born with a political
understanding or forecast: why then should the English, who come here,
not apply the same doctrines also to the Americans? and why should they
not, occasionally, join our own fashionable people in depreciating the
advantages of our government, and speak disrespectfully of those whom
ourselves are accustomed to treat with so little ceremony?
“When the English, who come here to live among us, declare our
government a mere experiment, and our institutions destructive to the
ends of society, they re-echo but the sentiments of our first people,
whom they are obliged to imitate if they wish to be considered
fashionable; for, believe me, an Englishman who would praise our
government, and who in consequence would be suspected of Radicalism,
would be infinitely less popular in Boston than one who, by abusing us,
proves himself to have belonged to the fashionable school of politics
in his own country.
“The great evil of our society consists in its being constantly
acted upon by two entirely heterogeneous principles,--the democratic
institutions of the country impelling our people one way, while the
aristocratic aspirings of the upper classes communicate to them an
impulse in the opposite direction. The resulting motion, therefore,
is neither _straight forward_, nor directly ascending; but a sort of
compromising diagonal, which in the inimitable language of our people
is characteristically called ‘slantendicular.’
“This is the great historical origin of the doctrine of double motives
which sways our best society; and which is, perhaps, the principal
cause of all the incongruities, contradictions, and downright
absurdities for which we have been ridiculed by Europeans. I, for
my own part, tell you frankly that I dislike in the extreme the
‘slantendicular’ conduct of certain classes. I prefer a downright
aristocracy with _avowed_ motives and principles, to a jesuitical
nobility of ‘influential citizens.’ You must respect the perseverance
and iron consequence of a Duke of Wellington; but you cannot but
despise the cringing pride of _our_ Tory politicians. If we are doomed
to have artificial distinctions,--if we must have an aristocracy
after the model of that of Europe,--let us, for mercy’s sake! _import
it ready made_; the gradual process of growing it ourselves is too
tedious, and the minute details too disgusting, not to put the best of
us out of humour.
“I never want to see an aristocrat until he is ready to put on white
gloves; our ‘ungloved,’ ‘unwashed’ aristocrats are to me an object
of horror. No tyranny is more odious than that of an overgrown
_bourgeoisie_. Being less removed from the lower classes, their tyranny
is more felt; and not being placed sufficiently above competition, they
are incapable of taking any lofty, disinterested views with regard to
the government of the people, whom they half fear and half despise.
These faults, at least, are among those which are seldom to be found in
an hereditary aristocracy, until it becomes reduced to a position in
which it is obliged to enter with the people on a contest for power.
* * * * *
“Having told you so much about our ‘first people,’” said my cicerone,
taking a bottle from his closet, and filling two glasses with I do not
now remember what, “I will, as a _pendant_ to them, relate to you an
anecdote which will throw some light also on our _second_ society. Only
let us drink fast, and let me soon remove the glasses; I should not
like my servants to know that I am in a habit of taking a thing of this
kind. There is no use in making one’s self unpopular, you know.
“The town of Boston,” he commenced, “if it were not already remarkable
as the ‘cradle of liberty,’ and the place where the first American
_tea-party_ was given, would long ago have become so by the hospitality
and convivial talents of its inhabitants.
“At the South-end of the town, at the very spot where General
Washington raised a fort from which he forced the departure of the
British army, stands now, not a monument to commemorate the deed, but
an excellent hotel, where a man may get the best things in the shape
of viands and wines, if he be willing to pay for them. To this place,
called ‘Mount Washington Hotel,’ many an excellent family, probably
out of patriotism, retires in the summer, not only to enjoy the
sea-breeze, and to escape from the noise of the town, but also in order
to be able to say that they have spent the summer at a watering-place;
New Port, Longbranch, and Saratoga Springs being much more expensive,
and society too exclusive to enable people of moderate fortune to
participate in the entertainments of the season. The Washington Hotel,
therefore, is frequented by such gentlemen and ladies as have acquired
competency without wealth, respectability without family dating of more
than one generation, and a common-place routine of fashion without
having had the advantage of a trip to Europe,--in short, by such as in
Boston form the second society, and with whom the first society never,
even by chance, exchange any kind of civility.
“Notwithstanding these apparent disadvantages,” continued my cicerone,
filling himself another glass, “nothing could be prettier than
this second society if its members could be made to agree amongst
themselves. This, however, is altogether out of the question, owing
to the numerous coteries and subdivisions to which it is again
subjected. Our second society, namely, has again its first, second,
and third rank, each of which is again subdivided into still smaller
circles, which are again numbered; so that it requires the nicety of a
mathematician to ascertain what sort of company a man is likely to be
with when invited to a party. Owing to this trifling circumstance, the
members of the second society live with each other somewhat after the
manner of cats and dogs; making but too frequently foreigners witnesses
of their broils, and affording them, as will appear from my story,
occasionally an opportunity of acting the peace-makers.
“An instance of this kind happened last year, when a Polish gentleman
arriving in Boston, and finding the town too hot in the summer,
was induced to take up his residence at the ‘Washington Hotel,’
which he was told, and with great justice too, furnished excellent
accommodations at moderate prices, and commanded a fine view of the
harbour.
“Scarcely had he removed thither, before his being announced ‘as a
count,’ ‘a real count,’ ‘a count that was _known_ to be a count,’
and who had brought letters proving him to be ‘every inch a count,’
caused such a sensation in the house, that the ladies refused to eat,
drink, and even _talk_, except in company of ‘the count.’ The count
could not but be flattered by these attentions, and in turn omitted
nothing by which to testify his gratitude. He listened with the utmost
patience to the accounts of their chivalrous ancestors,--for in Boston
even the second society have _ancestors_,--sat without opening his
lips when they mutually abused one another, and with incredible skill
managed to remain on good terms with the various sets, divisions, and
subdivisions, whose every-day regret it was to be obliged, ‘owing to
the ridiculous American custom,’ _to dine together at the same table_.
“At last the melancholy hour drew near when the count was about to
depart. When this sad intelligence was received, the ladies, with that
tenderness which belongs to their sex, and the peculiar generosity
which marks ‘the second society,’ determined to pay to the count a
tribute of their respect, and accordingly met in conclave to consult
as to the best manner of manifesting their sentiments. At first, the
first section of the second society met, and agreed to give the count
_a ball_. Then came the second, then the third, then again the _élite_
of each section; and, wonderful! on this subject they all agreed.
“It was therefore intimated to the count that he must defer his
departure until after the ball, to which the cavalier readily
consented; assuring the ladies that their kindness should be engraven
on his heart, and that he should never forget the amicable reception
he had met with in Boston. The rest of my story is easily told. The
evening was fixed for the party, the ‘ladies patronesses’ chosen from
each set, (because, the count having been polite to all, none could
very well be omitted,) and invitations sent out to three or four
hundred people to pay to the count the tribute due to his rank and
quality.
“At last the appointed evening arrived. The ball was superb,--the
hall magnificently decorated,--the music exquisite,--the refreshments
in excellent taste and in the greatest profusion. There was also a
supper;--not indeed equal to one of Crockford’s, but, notwithstanding,
nice, delicate, blending the French with the English art of cookery,
and arranged in a style worthy of a _prince_. The selection of madeira
and sherry corresponded with the supper; and there was a profusion
of iced champaign for the ladies. The whole went off prosperously,
with the exception of a single mistake; which, however, the count did
not discover till the next morning, when the landlord, stepping into
his room, presented him with a small piece of paper containing the
disagreeable item of--
“‘To Ball, 1000 dollars.’
“The count was stupified,--changed colour,--declared that the ball had
been given to him, and that he had nothing to do with settling the bill.
“The landlord withdrew; handed the bill to the ‘ladies patronesses,’
and respectfully demanded an explanation. Hereupon a grand meeting of
all the sets was immediately convened, at which the best understanding
prevailed throughout, the whole assembly coming to the unanimous
resolution ‘that the count was a shabby fellow.’
“The day following, the count paid the bill and quitted the hotel,
without leaving a single p. p. c. for any of its inmates.”
Here my cicerone finished his glass, locked the bottle and the empty
tumblers carefully up in the closet, and, having put the key in his
pocket, told me in the most solemn voice that it was not the custom
in Boston to keep late hours, and that, in order not to lose his
reputation as a moral man, he was now obliged to wish me a good night.
FOOTNOTES:
[9] Mr. Quincy was, during the last war, one of the leading members
of the opposition; and, as such, introduced a resolution “that it was
unbecoming a Christian people to exult in the triumphs over their
enemies.” This resolution was afterwards voted to be erased from the
journal of the house.
[10] One who speaks _extempore_; because in the Western country they
use the stump of a tree for a rostrum.