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.
“A field of glory is a field for all.”
POPE’S _Dunciad_.
I passed an evening at the house of a genuine specimen of a Yankee,--at
a sort of literary party, to which nearly the whole Boston tribe of
the quill were invited; the master of the house being well able to
act as president. My Boston friends, on reading this, will imagine I
refer to a gentleman in B***-street; but I can assure them that they
are mistaken. I do not mean a man who has at once been promoted to the
rank of king of literature, master of the pamphlet and magazine writers
of New England, by his wealth and the agreeable manners he acquired
in Europe; but a hard-working man, who served his apprenticeship in
a printer’s shop, and by dint of perseverance and talent became one
of the most powerful organs of public opinion, and a correct English
writer. His politics were, from the beginning, those of the Federal
school, but honest; his style clear and flowing, his arguments logical
and to the point; and he possessed a fund of wit and humour to season
the productions of his pen. In his younger days he submitted himself
to the arduous and unprofitable task of exposing some of the most
glaring follies of his countrymen; for which, though he became in an
eminent degree a public benefactor, he was frequently sued for libel,
and condemned to heavy fines. Notwithstanding these reverses he had
prospered, and become the father of a large family, most of the members
of which were distinguished for great ability.
On this occasion he had convened his friends and acquaintances in
order to communicate to them his resolution to add a new monthly
periodical to the list of those already in existence, and to ask their
contribution to so laudable an undertaking. He also told them that for
one year at least he was ready to continue it at a loss, remunerating
liberally the best papers on politics and _belles lettres_, to which he
proposed to direct his principal attention.
The proposition was received with enthusiasm by the whole company.
They agreed unanimously that such an undertaking was highly patriotic,
and that the time being was particularly propitious to an undertaking
of that sort; that the condition of the country, and the progress of
literature and science in the United States, “loudly call for such a
periodical,” &c.; and, as a mark of their sincerity, pledged their
entertainer in a bumper of hock, which seemed to augur favourably for
their taste and judgment.
While they were thus engaged in expressing their sympathy with
literature and the arts, I had an opportunity of observing their
countenances, which partook of the usual shrewdness of New-Englanders,
but were otherwise far from being remarkable or striking. Fortunately
for my democratic sentiments, they were all representatives of the Whig
or American Tory press; though some of the _English_ editors of that
denomination would not, perhaps, feel flattered by this extension of
the fraternity.
What was most interesting to me was, the little case which prevailed
amongst them; none seeming to know his true position. They approached
each other with great caution, as if they dreaded each other’s malice.
I am sure they did not venture a single expression which they would
not have liked to see in print. In addition to this, they watched
each other’s motions, and the greater or less degree of intimacy which
existed between their entertainer and his invited colleagues; in short,
they wanted nothing but tact and manners to pass for a tolerable body
of diplomatists at a provincial court in Germany.
I could not help making some reflections on those poor mortals, who,
like other players, “fretted their hour upon the stage;” though their
_parts_ were not many, and the play but too often not worth the candle.
I believe I am not altogether wrong in asserting that the American
daily press, though its influence on national politics is prodigious,
is nevertheless in its composition, character, and moral force,
scarcely to be compared to the mass of talent employed in this branch
of literature in Europe.
There is scarcely a paper in any of the large cities of the United
States which has a decided political character--advocating some great
historical principle, and employing in its warfare other weapons than
common-place dialectics, and constant appeals to the passions of its
subscribers. The effect produced by the American papers is due to their
number; there being not one of them which can boast of a subscription
sufficiently large to make it a true representative of public opinion.
Their power is owing to combination. No great central institution
has as yet taken the lead; but they have a wonderful faculty in
communicating each other’s ideas, either by direct quotations or by
dressing up the same thought in a variety of manners. An American
paper, in fact, is said to be edited _with great talent_ when it
contains in each number from half a column to a column of original
matter: the rest consists of extracts and advertisements. The latter
constitute the pecuniary resources of an editor; the subscriptions
being so low that, unless a “fair advertising patronage” can be
obtained, little profit or absolute loss must necessarily attend the
publication.
From this single circumstance the leading character of American
newspapers may at once be inferred. The commercial part of the
community advertise the most,--their interests, therefore, are sure to
be advocated; while those principles which refer to the higher branches
of statesmanship or political economy are rarely made the subject of
newspaper controversy, except perhaps in the Southern States. The
Southerners are the only people in the Union who study politics as a
science, having both the education and leisure for that purpose. The
Southern papers, therefore, are, on an average, much better edited than
those of the North; though from their higher standard, and the peculiar
composition of Southern society, they have comparatively a small number
of readers.
The practical men at the North call the Southerners, and especially
the Virginians, “Meta-physical politicians,” in contradistinction to
those whose immediate object is the increase of trade and traffic. The
Northern papers advocate each only _a particular part_ of a political
system: one, a bank of fifty millions; another, one of forty millions;
one, a bank in New York; another, one in Philadelphia, &c. just as it
suits the convenience of their subscribers. It is not the press which
leads the public,--it is the public which leads the press. What is
likely to succeed--that principle which promises to become popular,
which gratifies the peculiar _penchant_ of the leading portion of
the public, is sure to be maintained, if not with spirit, at least
with great obstinacy; but a great truth, which is not yet universally
received, which meets with a strong opposition from wealth and
prejudice, which is calculated to benefit future generations and not
the present one, often pleads in vain for a single enunciation in a
daily print. The proverb, “_Point d’argent, point de Suisses_,” applies
as much to the gentlemen of the press as to the hired soldiers of
Helvetia; with this difference only, that, once engaged in fight, they
do not always defend their masters with the same unalterable faith and
courage.
The fact is, a truth which clashes with the interests of a certain
portion of society is seldom introduced by men not entirely independent
in their circumstances; and for this reason a powerful aristocracy, or
an absolute monarchy, has often done more for the emancipation of a
people than could have been effected by the variously-directed efforts
of the wealthy middle classes. The history of all countries up to the
present day furnishes ample proofs of this assertion, and the state of
America itself forms no exception to the rule.
The Southern planters, who, not without cause, are reproached with
aristocratic principles and sentiments, are nevertheless the stronghold
of American liberty, without which the variety of commercial,
manufacturing, and agricultural interests would soon produce a conflict
of principles, which would ultimately endanger the Union. The very
opposition to the Southern interests obliges the higher classes of the
North to live in peace with the inferior orders.
The industrious labourer at the North has no better ally than the
Southern planter, who, from his position, is more independent, more
generous, and better able to protect him against the rich monopolist
than the _roturier_, who is his competitor. From the South emanated all
the democratic measures, together with the doctrine of the sovereignty
of the people as it is now understood, in the United States. Southern
statesmen advocated the rights of the poor; and broke down the monopoly
of trade and manufactures, which threatened to enrich one class of
citizens at the expense of all the rest.
There is a species of republicanism which may assume all the odious
features of aristocracy; and there is an aristocracy, in the true
sense of the word, which may act as a stimulus to liberty and national
honour. If there be one truth which the history of modern times has
proved beyond the possibility of a doubt, it is this,--that the
wealthy _bourgeoisie_, where it succeeded in obtaining power, has
been a ruder tyrant of the lower classes than the hereditary nobility
whom it deprived of their political influence. As my friend truly
observed,--the more nearly an aristocracy is allied to the people, the
more intolerable are its presumptions; the less are these qualities
redeemed by refinement, education, and that peculiar sense of honour
which, even at the worst stage of corruption, seldom entirely quits
those descended from a long line of ancestors. If Michel Chevalier
is right in believing that the nature of man is too corrupt to be
governed by a pure democracy, then I would, with my Boston cicerone,
prefer at once an aristocracy of family and _hereditary_ property,
with chivalrous notions of honour and justice, to a cold, calculating
preponderance of moneyed men, which, though it may to a certain extent
stimulate enterprise and industry, establishes nevertheless a mean
_numerical_ scale of worth, the most distressing of all to the lofty
aspirations of high-minded men.
The aristocratic _super-position_ of society, as it exists in
Europe and in the Southern States of America, has far less tendency
to circumscribe the liberty of the people[11] than the democratic
_juxta-position_ of different ranks and fortunes, with an incessant
_struggle_ for individual distinction. In short, I prefer the
white-gloved democrat of the South, with his _aristocratic_ bearing, to
the ungloved aristocrat of the North, with his republican humility,
and his cravings after popularity and power.
“Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green,
Observed his courtship to the common people,--
How he did seem to dive into their hearts
With humble and familiar courtesy;--
What reverence he did throw away on slaves,
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles,
And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As ’twere to banish their effects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster wench;
A brace of draymen bid--God speed him well!
And has the tribute of his supple knee
With ‘_Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends!_’”
As I was thus pondering on the relative merits of the North and South,
I observed a gentleman whom I had once met in a stage-coach talking to
the master of the house in a manner from which it was easy to infer
that _I_ formed the subject of their conversation. Shortly after he
rushed up to me, and, seizing both my hands,
“Don’t you remember me?” exclaimed he; “we travelled together in the
same coach from Baltimore to Washington.”
I was glad to find some one to converse with freely, without being
every third word stopped by such phrases as these: “Why, sir! I don’t
exactly know;” “I sometimes think;” “I am half inclined to suppose;”
“I rather guess;” “I should _swan_,” (for, “I should swear,”) &c.;
or cross-examined as to my intentions, views, inclinations, tastes,
and habits, which I knew would be considered as absurd if they did
not entirely correspond with the stereotype patterns of the leading
moralists of the city. During my stay in Boston I have often felt
gratified with the attention shown me by many of its inhabitants;
and there are, perhaps, few cities which, in proportion to their
population, can boast of so large a number of educated men and women:
but I cannot refrain from alluding to the want of moral independence,
not only in their private and public acts, but also in their
_conversation_. I communicated these thoughts to the Carolinian, who,
seizing both my hands, exclaimed,
“You have spoken my very heart. I could live twenty years in this
city without feeling myself at home in it. There is a degree of
ceremoniousness, watchfulness, and prudence, even in the hospitality
of these people, which destroys that familiar conviviality to which we
are accustomed at the South. The same holds of the women. There is a
certain severity--_une rigueur poussée trop loin_--about the loveliest
faces in New England, which acts as a disenchanter on enthusiasm. You
gaze, you admire, you respect; but you are almost _afraid_ to love;
such a distance does there seem between yourself and the object of your
fancy.”
From these topics our conversation turned on literature and the
representatives of the press.
“Our editors,” said he, “think themselves competent for the solution
of every question, whether it refer to politics or poetry, to the
settlement of the Western country or to Greek and Roman archæology.
Once armed with a quill, they care not whom they meet in the arena.
Fortunately it is their practice to praise indiscriminately every
book, pamphlet, or poem, of which a copy is sent them ‘for notice;’
except when the author attacks their favourite doctrines, or pretends
to be wiser than themselves. In such cases they exhibit an _esprit du
corps_, and woe to the unfortunate offender that provokes a power so
formidable! Not only will judgment be pronounced on him _editorially_;
but also in an infinite number of _anonymous_ articles, furnished by
the legion of literary twaddles which surround our ‘independent press,’
and claim the occasional insertion of a squib as a _bonus_ for the
amount of their annual subscription. This species of assassination is
considered perfectly lawful, and is practised by lawyers, physicians,
clergymen, merchants, manufacturers, and tradespeople of all sorts.
Whoever subscribes to a paper considers himself _the editor’s patron_,
and obliges the latter to give publicity to his dull lucubrations.
“An editor, in order to reject these voluntary contributions, must
be very independent in his circumstances, or possess a fund of wit
and sarcasm to make people afraid of him, as is, for instance, the
case with our entertainer; but by far the majority are glad to avail
themselves of these opportunities of filling their columns without
personal exertion or trouble. You know how the democratic tendency
of Cooper’s novels was treated in our prints; how the youths of our
colleges, and the clerks of our dry-goods-men, exerted themselves to
the utmost to counteract their pernicious tendency.”[12]
“I do not remember many of those newspaper squibs,” said I; “but I
think Cooper showed very little taste or good sense in answering them
at large in ‘_A Letter to my Countrymen_.’”
“And in republishing that letter in England,” added the Carolinian;
“making the English public judge between himself and the American
people.”
“And yet, what remedy has an American author in such a case, except to
appeal from a small and prejudiced public to a large and liberal one?”
“I do not think,” rejoined the Carolinian, “the English public is much
more liberal than our own. But, then, in England every man sticks to
his trade, so that the criticism of the periodical press, and even of
the daily papers, proceed at least from persons competent to judge, and
who have made literature their principal occupation in life. If it were
not for English critics, we should not know or esteem our own poets;
for it is only after they have acquired a standing _there_, that they
are admitted into society in this country. I remember what an American
lady from this very city told a gentleman in Paris, when she heard a
certain bard was visiting the highest society in England: ‘I cannot
conceive of it,’ said she; ‘he never visited in the first society _with
us_.’ ‘Then,’ observed a sarcastic Scotchman, ‘the first society in
England must be very differently constituted from the first society in
America.’”
“You are too severe on your own countrymen,” said I.
“I am accustomed to speak my opinion frankly,” replied the Southerner.
“How many of the gentlemen present do you think fit to edit a
respectable paper in England?”
“That is a difficult question.”
“Oh, not at all, sir! I will answer it for you. Hardly one besides
our entertainer, who, though perhaps no longer equal to what he
was, possesses, nevertheless, more business tact, and writes better
English, than any one of his colleagues. And yet all these men have
pretensions to literature, and imagine themselves capable of judging
the literary productions of others. What man of talent would under
such circumstances not rather appeal to England, and be judged by his
peers, than trust to the decisions of his countrymen? The greatest
praise of the American press is, after all, but a dubious testimony of
an author’s merits, even with a great portion of the American public;
while its censure becomes doubly severe from the circumstance of its
rare occurrence, and the great ease with which it may be avoided. I
remember an instance in which one of this gallant body of editors
‘cut up’ a book, and that too one which has since been republished in
England, merely because the author had forgotten to send him a copy;--a
tribute which no poor devil of a writer ought to forget to pay to
those sovereign princes of literature, if he do not wish to see himself
damned. But, if the work has once gone through an edition in _England_,
all is hushed in silence; for, although we declaim continually against
British influence, we have scarcely an editor who dares to hold
an opinion different from that of the English public. The love of
independence is, indeed, inherent in them; but in such matters a mere
_declaration_ does not answer the purpose.”
“And what is the usual career of one of your editors?” demanded I.
“That is easily told,” replied he. “A man fails in business, or is
otherwise unfortunate; he does not succeed in his profession, or has
had some other falling-out with the world. Then he turns politician,
and commences generally by being a democrat. Democracy is the easiest
and best commencement of a politician. He is serving his apprenticeship
with the people, as a young physician first practises on the poor
before he ventures his skill on those who are able to pay him. The
majority of our ‘most respectable editors’ commenced in this manner,
by advocating ‘the greatest good to the greatest number;’ but, once
brought into notice, the transition from Radicalism to Whiggism, and
from that to Toryism, is effected with little difficulty.
“You may always doubt a democratic editor’s sincerity when his
_advertisements_ begin to increase. He is then sure of making himself
agreeable to a certain portion of the _commercial_ community, and
to meet soon with the proper reward of his new political faith. You
may then expect to see him promoted in society and on ’change; and
ten chances to one he will be able to settle with his creditors.
After that, he begins to differ in one or the other point from the
leading principles of the democratic party, (for it is seldom that a
man changes _at once_ from a democrat to a Whig,) until by degrees
he renounces the whole doctrine as unworthy ‘of a gentleman and a
scholar.’ Then he begins his abuse against the _mob_, declaiming loudly
against anarchy and usurpation; because new converts to a doctrine
must show more zeal than those who have been brought up in it, and in
order to exhibit their contempt for the class of society from which
they themselves have sprung. These abuses are afterwards returned
with interest by those who have remained faithful to their cause, or
who have not yet had a chance of promotion. Hence arises a newspaper
controversy, which is neither calculated to elevate the style of our
writers, nor to throw much light on the great principles for which they
are contending. After subtracting the personal abuse and common party
slang of our papers, there remains scarcely enough matter to elicit one
generous thought, or a single truth capable of adding to our political
knowledge.
“Our editors are so much bent on discussing men and characters, that
they scarcely ever find time for examining a principle; and hence it
is that foreigners not acquainted with our public men cannot form a
correct notion of our politics. It is our boast that Europeans do not
understand our institutions; but I believe the same reproach applies to
ourselves, and particularly to our editors. How many of these, I would
ask, understand the true meaning of aristocracy and democracy? and what
historical idea do they associate with these terms?
“Immediately after the revolutionary war, we had Whigs and Tories;
that is, men that were honest enough openly to avow their sentiments.
These _had_ a political system, and defended it logically with
philosophical arguments. And I will be sincere with you: a large
portion of our public men _was_ then inclined towards Whiggism, or
rather to a moderate Toryism, as might have been expected from a
people principally descended from England, and versed only in the
British school of politics. These men, however, soon discovered the
impossibility of establishing, in America, a government after the
English model. Their principles and doctrines became unpopular; until,
at last, their motives were suspected, and they themselves held up as
traitors to the country.
“The French revolution had given a fresh impulse to the democracy of
the country; and the champions of the old school--the Federalists as
they were called--were obliged to leave the field to their victorious
antagonists. Since that period their party has tried to _smuggle_
itself into power. They assumed a variety of insignificant names by
which to deceive the multitude, and within the last few years sailed
under false colours. They are no longer the plain honest men who come
out with their principles in broad daylight; they do not advocate
openly and manly the system they once gloried in, but only certain
detached parts of it. They administer their politics to the people,
like some disagreeable medicine, in exceedingly small doses, in order
not to disgust the public stomach.
“The great majority of editors are, in every respect, the mere tools
of party. They do not set up or maintain a principle, they merely
spread it over a wider surface. Their _modus operandi_ consists in
appealing to the passions of the multitude, upon whose decision
their success mainly depends; and the same is the case with our
statesmen. The democrats may do so without apparent inconsequence; they
_acknowledge_ the people as their sovereign, and may do them homage:
but when a party, which agrees in nothing except in the conviction
that the people are unfit to govern, bends its knees before that very
people in order humbly to crave some of the offices and distinctions in
its gift, then I can no longer remain an indifferent spectator; I feel
indignant at the base conduct of these crafty flatterers, and become
ashamed of the principles of the party to which my whole family and
myself have always belonged.”
“You are a Federalist then?” demanded I.
“Yes, sir, one of the _old_ school; for I believe that an aristocracy
not linked with, but, on the contrary, separated and opposed to the
people, must for ever remain powerless; and that the people of no
country are to be won by empty praise and sycophancy, but by the
conferring of some substantial benefit.”
“Our rich people do not even understand how to strike the lower
classes with the exhibition of wealth and splendour; a practice which
is rarely entirely without effect when that exhibition benefits a
large number of tradespeople. So far from seeking the appearance of
liberality, they hoard money in the most miserly manner; as if the
mere possession of wealth, and not the skilful application of it,
were capable of procuring them political influence. There is not a
branch of industry in which they are not striving to grind the face of
the poor, and yet they expect the latter to promote their interests!
Nothing but an entire stupefaction of the people can ever make them
attain their object. The people give nothing without an equivalent, and
are only rendered more obstinate by the fine speeches and flattery of
those who pretend to be their superiors. In one word, our aristocrats
are fond of power and distinction; but they are unwilling to pay for
them. Money is, and remains, their highest consideration; and the
acquisition of it the principal object of their lives. Hence the
privilege of making money, and of borrowing and lending it, has become
the rallying point of their party. How far this will assist them it is
at present difficult to tell; but one thing they may rely upon with
certainty,--that the people, though for a time espousing their cause,
will again desert them at the first clashing of interests.
“Among the Western hunters and warriors there are better materials for
a future aristocracy than can be found in the Atlantic cities. They
are, at least, owners of real estate, and possess the soil on which
they play the lords. In short, the persons who are now called ‘the
aristocracy of the Northern States’ must change their manners, habits,
principles, and education, before they can expect to gain a hold on the
sympathy of the people.”
“But why do you remain with a party with which you have so little
sympathy?” demanded I.
“Because I do not wish to be called an ‘apostate.’ I am so far
disgusted with politics, that I will not have anything to do with them
hereafter. The great interests of democracy claim in every country,
even in absolute monarchies, the utmost attention of the legislator.
All wise statesmen, whether kings or senators, have been attached to
its leading principles; but men have ever been too corrupt to give it
a systematic developement. This circumstance makes me sometimes doubt
its success among us; though I, for one, am no longer opposed to the
experiment.”
“The press!” shouted the company,--“the press!” and the editors pledged
it in a bumper.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] These remarks can, of course, only be understood as applying to
the _white_ population of those States.
[12] Since Mr. Cooper’s last publications on France, Italy,
Switzerland, &c. he is less abused by his countrymen. The nice things
he tells them about the _palaces_ of Europe, and the society of princes
to which he _himself_ was invited, have put the critics in good-humour
with the author.