Unitarian Preaching.--Doctor 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.
“Love, and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition.”
_King Henry VIII._ Act v. Scene 2.
“La Religione e la Filosofia comandare l’una e l’altra energico volere,
e giudizio pacato, e senza queste unite condizioni non esservi nè
giustizia, nè dignità, nè principii securi.”
SILVIO PELLICO.--“_Le mie prigioni._”
This being Sabbath, and the last day of my stay in Boston, I went to
the “first Unitarian church” to hear Dr. Channing, a gentleman of
wide-spread reputation in America, and of late considerably known also
in England. He is considered the prophet of Unitarianism in the United
States, and I am not disposed to derogate from his reputation. He has
undoubtedly contributed much to the popularity of the sect in Boston,
and to its spreading in several parts of the Union, where a large
portion of the population consists of New-Englanders.
I once heard a clever man assert, that the world stood in expectation
of a great man who should unite the three principal creeds,
Christianism, Judaism, and Islamism, into one, and thus bring unity
and concord among the different believers in one God. Whether such a
man would have to clothe his doctrines in pious mysticism, in order
to affect the heart as well as the mind, and to embrace all the
peculiarities of these creeds, he did not say; but, since I have heard
Dr. Channing, I am inclined to think that he is the man, and that
he intends to solve the grand problem by philosophical _analysis_.
It is possible, namely, instead of inventing a form which shall
contain each of these creeds as a co-ordinate part, to make use of
the dissecting-knife in order to cut off all that is not perfectly
homogeneous: the remaining trunks, with their “sublime moral,” would
then so little differ from one another, that the one might be safely
substituted for the other, and _vice versâ_. How much the world would
gain by such a simplification, I leave political economists and female
philosophers to judge, who perhaps are best able to appreciate the
advantages and beauty of such a system.
The sermon I heard was one of the doctor’s best. It was “on the
character of Christ,” and I must do him the justice to say that he
handled his subject with great skill. It was a perfect epopee--almost
equal to the _Henriade_, only that it was in prose. The effect on
the audience was electric. Instead of the ladies fanning themselves,
and the gentlemen sleeping as they are wont to do at this season of
the year, they all looked “at the doctor,” and at each other, as if
doubting the reality of so extraordinary an effort. I expected at every
moment a public manifestation of their feelings, but was disappointed;
for hardly had he finished, and a psalm been sung by the choir, before
his hearers--who, I was told, were composed of the “genteelest” and
“most _fashionable_ part of the community”--left church with that
peculiar English propriety and undisturbed countenance, which would
have led an European from the Continent to suppose they had never been
affected.
It is usual in Boston to make sermons a peculiar branch of literature,
and to discuss them in lieu of other literary matter at dinner or tea,
especially on Sundays. This practice, by which many an European has
undoubtedly been edified, I was to-day doomed to become a victim of,
in a very nice family. I took tea at a gentleman’s house, who, though
he had seen a good deal of the world, thought it nevertheless _prudent_
to conform to the customs of society; especially as he had grown-up
daughters, whose prospects in life might have suffered from an open
confession of the liberality of his principles. Having arrived at the
conviction that religion is absolutely necessary to the _moral and
political_ well-being of the community, and that it is a powerful means
of repressing the vices and passions of the _multitude_, he espoused,
on his return to America, that creed which most nearly approached his
mode of thinking, and put the least restraint on his habits. His family
were inclined towards orthodoxy; but, the father worshipping at an
Unitarian church, the daughters followed his example, and listened to
the eloquent discourses of Dr. Channing.
Scarcely had I entered the room, and, in the good New England fashion,
bowed separately to all the ladies, and shaken each of the gentlemen
present by the hand, before the eldest daughter--a beautiful dark-eyed
girl, with black hair and ruby lips--addressed me in the most solemn
manner in these terms:--
“Well, Mr. ***, whom did you hear to-day?”[13]
“I heard Dr. Channing,” replied I.
“Were you not delighted?”
I somewhat hesitated for an answer.
“It was certainly a great effort,” said the gentleman, observing my
embarrassment.
“But is he not a charming preacher?--I mean, is not his _style_
beautiful?” demanded the girl.
“It is _glorious, glorious, glorious_!” echoed the women.
“And the doctor is not only one of our greatest preachers, but also
one of our first literary characters,” resumed the young lady. “He
has written an excellent sermon against General Jackson, and a most
glorious article against Napoleon in the North American Review.”
“Is he also a politician?” demanded I.
“Yes, sir, and a most _glorious_ one; he wrote against the tariff, and
of late also against slavery.”
“Why did he not write sooner against it?”
“Because he waited for the proper time, just after the subject had been
taken up in England.”
“Are you an abolitionist, Miss ***?”
“I was taught never to speak of it,” said the girl, blushing. “It is a
question in which we dare not act, as we are told by our minister.”
“For G--d’s sake!” cried the old gentleman; “let us not have
_bobolition_. Those blackguards are already stirring up the country
in every direction, and will not be satisfied until they will have
produced a separation of the Union. I think Dr. Channing had better
turn his wits to something else.”
“But what induced him to preach against General Jackson?” demanded I.
“Because General Jackson was very nigh involving the country in a
war with France, and Dr. Channing is opposed to war, on account of
its wickedness. It completely obscures ‘moral grandeur,’ and sets a
high premium on the lower qualities of the mind, such as courage,
patriotism, and the like. He is in general opposed to ‘military
greatness,’ and is just as severe on Napoleon, Nelson, Wellington, and
Jackson, as Pope was upon women; only he is not quite so satirical,”
observed the old gentleman. “He thinks those men will have ‘a very low
standing’ in the other world. Isn’t it so, my child?”
“Precisely so, father; Dr. Channing always speaks of Napoleon as of
‘the miscalled great man.’”
“Then the French were right in calling him _le_ PETIT _caporal_.”
“Why, the doctor calls Napoleon only a _third-rate man_!”
“Then, I assure you, he has been sinking the bathos in a professional
manner. Such a speech might have been _piquant_ some twenty-five or
thirty years ago at a nobleman’s table; but no one can venture on it
now without betraying the most profound ignorance of history, and the
most ridiculous conceit at the same time. None but great men do great
things; the saying and writing them is left to inferior minds, and
often to mere scribblers. Napoleon tamed the revolution, he changed its
corrosive nature; which alone ought to have entitled him to the respect
of the Tories.”
“It is the misfortune of our people,” continued the old gentleman,
“that they cram everything under the head of morality. Morality is
the cant and crack word of the place. If you go to our fashionable
churches, you will hear the fashionable clergyman preach ‘morality;’
if you visit a private gentleman’s house, he is sure to entertain you
with ‘morality;’ if you attend a public meeting, the ‘moral’ speaker
will address his ‘moral’ fellow-citizens on the subject of ‘public
morals;’ if you listen to the partisan harangues of our professional
politicians, they will conjure the people ‘in the name of morality’ to
outvote the profligate antagonist faction, &c. Morality seems to be the
great lever of society; the difficulty only consists in finding its
fulcrum.”
“I believe Dr. Channing is very popular in England,” observed one of
the visiters.
“Among the Unitarians at least,” replied the master of the house; “but
the assertion of some of his friends here, that he is the best English
writer now living, is, I can assure you, wholly gratuitous. We are
apt to overdo things on this side of the Atlantic, and are either too
lavishing in our praise or too severe in our censure. We always deal
in superlatives, even in common conversation; which is the surest sign
of our imagination being void of images. Everything with us is ‘most
beautiful,’ ‘most sublime,’ ‘most glorious,’ from a turnip up to our
ministers, lawyers, and statesmen; so that, on occasions when we are
really moved, we have no other terms to express our feelings than those
whose signification is already worn out by common use.
“As regards Dr. Channing’s merits as an author, no one can deny, I
believe, that he is a correct and tasteful writer, though by no means
a powerful one. There is throughout his productions a visible want of
originality and strength, which a skilful rhetoric and a nice selection
of terms are incapable of concealing even from ordinary readers. His
ideas are less striking than the garb in which they are dressed, and
remind one constantly of some pretty little miniature painting, in
which the artist is more successful in the drapery than in the face. In
addition to this, he is, like all New-Englanders, prone to argument,
and in the course of it but too frequently betrays the want of logic
and sound scholarship.
“This is most apparent in his little pamphlet on Slavery, and the
annexation of Texas. He there ventured on a subject in which the
popular feeling was already in his favour, and yet did not set forth
a single new idea capable of adding strength to his cause. He merely
reiterated, and dressed in new garbs, the general argument against
slavery, used by European writers nearly a hundred years ago; and,
in so doing, but followed the example of hundreds of his countrymen,
who did the same thing at a time when it was dangerous to advance
such doctrines in America. I naturally expected to see the subject
treated, not in the English manner, but applied to the condition of the
Southern States. I thought he would allude to the forlorn condition of
the _free_ negroes at the North, and propose some means of elevating
their character, in order gradually to prepare them for a rational
state of freedom. I thought he would reproach his own fellow-citizens
for refusing negro children to be educated at our public schools, for
excluding them from our churches, our theatres, our public houses, our
stage-coaches, and even our burying-grounds! And yet it is evident
that, as long as the feelings of our Northern population do not
change with regard to the negroes, emancipation can do them no good;
for, while it gives them liberty, it prevents them from becoming
respectable,--it takes away the master’s whip in order to transfer the
slave to the pillory and the gallows.
“I expected Dr. Channing to propose a scheme for gradually emancipating
the negroes, without absolutely ruining the planters; but, instead
of all this, he contented himself with declaiming against slavery in
the abstract, and in appealing to the _political_ prejudices of the
Northern people.”
“But,” objected one of the gentlemen, “Dr. Channing, in his pamphlet
on Slavery, and in his ‘Letter to Henry Clay, on the annexation of
Texas,’ says that he is aware that these publications will make him
unpopular with a large portion of his readers; but that he is prepared
to meet their disapprobation, rather than omit to do his duty.”
“Oh! that’s nothing,” rejoined the master of the house, “but a display
of courage in times of peace. Let him preach the same doctrines to the
Southerners, or, as I said before, allude to the forlorn condition of
the free negroes amongst ourselves, and I will believe in his moral
fortitude. Many a clergyman in the United States has exposed himself
to being mobbed, and some _were_ mobbed, for daring to preach what Dr.
Channing published with the greatest possible security in Boston; and
yet those men earned no reputation for their martyrdom.”
“Neither did these men employ the proper means for abolishing slavery;
they preached revolt.”
“And Dr. Channing,” resumed the old gentleman, “the doctrine of
political equality. He pressed the subject of slavery on his Northern
brethren, not with the calm, impressive voice of an apostle of
Christianity,[14] but with the malice of a political demagogue, jealous
of the mental superiority of the South. Riches he neither condemns nor
despises; but he is inexorable on the subject of leisure, which enables
the Southern planters to be gentlemen and professional politicians.
Here” (pointing to a little pamphlet lying on the table) “is the best
proof of his sincerity and courage. See what he says of the South and
North in his Letter to Henry Clay. If the company will allow me, I will
read the passage. It is worth perusing, as it contains an illustration
of the character of our leading people.
“‘I now proceed,’ says Dr. Channing, ‘to another important argument
against the annexation of Texas to our country,--the argument drawn
from the bearings of the measure on our national Union. Next to
liberty, union is our great political interest; and this cannot but
be loosened--it may be dissolved--by the proposed extension of our
territory. I will not say that _every_ extension must be pernicious;
that our government cannot hold together even our present confederacy;
that the central heart (?) cannot send its influences to the remote
states which are to spring up within our present borders. Old
theories must be cautiously applied to this country. If the federal
government will abstain from _minute_ legislation, and rigidly confine
itself within constitutional bounds, it may be a bond of union to more
extensive communities than were ever comprehended under one sway.’
“Capital logic, this!” exclaimed one of the visiters. “Do not pretend
to rule, and you will sway over extensive communities. And what does
he mean by _minute_ legislation? What do the Southerners claim but
non-interference with their internal regulations? and yet, while Dr.
Channing preaches the same doctrine, he stirs up a question which,
sooner or later, must interfere with the sovereignty of the States.”
“This is not all,” replied the old gentleman: “he contradicts himself
every third or fourth line, preaching union on one hand, and the
dissolution of it on the other. Let me read to you another passage.
“‘Undoubtedly there is peril in extending ourselves; and yet the chief
benefit of the Union, which is the preservation of peaceful relations
among neighbouring states, is so vast that some risk should be taken
to secure it in the greatest possible degree. The objection to the
annexation of Texas, drawn from the unwieldiness it would give to the
country, though very serious, is not decisive. A far more serious
objection is, that it should be annexed to us for the avowed purpose
of multiplying slave-holding States, and thus giving POLITICAL POWER.
_This_ cannot, ought not to be borne. It will _justify_, it will at
length DEMAND a separation of the States.’”
“Did I not always tell you,” interrupted the same visitor, “that the
doctrine of nullification originated in Massachusetts? This is but a
repetition of sentiments expressed here more than twenty years ago. But
we change opinions according to circumstances.”
“Hear on!” cried the master of the house. “You interrupted me in the
best part of Channing’s letter.
“‘We maintain,’ he says, ‘that this policy is altogether without
reason on the part of the South. The South has exerted, and cannot
help exerting, a disproportionate share of influence on the
confederacy. The slave-holding States have already advantages of
co-operation, and for swaying the country, which the others do not
possess. _The free States have no common interest like slavery to hold
them together._ They differ in character, feelings, and pursuits.
They agree but on one point, and that a negative one,--the absence
of slavery; and this distinction, as is well known, makes no lively
impression on the consciousness, and in no degree counteracts the
influences which divide them from one another. To this may be added
the well-known fact, that in the free States the subject of politics
is of secondary importance, whilst in the South it is paramount.
In the North, every man must toil for subsistence; and, amidst the
feverish competitions and anxieties of the eager and universal
pursuit of gain, political power is sought with little comparative
avidity. _In some districts it is hard to find fit representatives for
Congress_, so backward are _superior men_ to forego the emoluments of
their vocation,--the prospect of independence,--for the uncertainties
of public life.’”
“Under such circumstances,” interrupted I, “and with such an exalted
patriotism on the part of your _superior_ men in the North, the
American people ought to be glad to find Southern legislators in
Congress; else their senate and house of representatives would contain
nothing but men of straw.”
“It is precisely that mental aristocracy of the South which our people
dislike the most,” responded the old gentleman. “They cannot pardon
elegant manners and superior education. But hear what parallel Dr.
Channing draws between the South and North.
“‘What contrast does the South form with the divided and slumbering
North! There, one strong broad distinction exists, of which all
the members of the community have a perfect consciousness; there a
peculiar element is found, which spreads its influence through the
mass, and impresses itself on the whole constitution of society.
Nothing decides the character of a people more than the form and
determination of labour. Hence we find a unity in the South unknown
in the North. In the South, too, the proprietors, released from the
necessity of labour, and having little of the machinery of association
to engage their attention, devote themselves to politics with a
concentration of zeal which a Northerner can only comprehend by
being on the spot. _Hence the South has professional politicians_, a
character hardly known in the free States.’
“You hear,” cried the reader, “_our_ politicians are mere _dilettanti_.
“‘The result is plain,’ continues Dr. Channing. ‘The South has
generally ruled the country. It must always have an undue power.
United, as the North cannot be, it can always link to itself some
discontented portion in the North, which it can liberally reward by
the patronage which the possession of the government confers.’
“This, gentlemen,” exclaimed the master of the house, “is the manner in
which the doctor preaches against slavery! He shows the whole value of
it to the South, and then calls upon the South to renounce it, in order
to put itself on a level with the North. An _advocate_ of slavery could
not have selected a better argument for pressing the continuance of
the institution on the Southern planters, and yet he expects them to
become convinced of its wickedness. He has, indeed, a most peculiar way
of exhorting sinners; he shows them all the nice things they may get by
offending against the law, and then says, ‘All these you shall _not_
have by following me.’”
“And what does all his argument come to,” observed one of the visitors,
“but this?--Our moneyed men in the North revere nothing more than
money; but, because each of us is determined to make money, we are
divided into as many different castes as there are ways and means of
making money. We, Northerners, have no rallying point; because every
one makes money for himself, and not for his neighbour. This, however,
is not enough to give us political strength; and for this reason the
Southerners, who by their slaves are placed above the necessity of
making money, rule over us by superior talent and education. This is a
state of things not to be endured; and, since we cannot become clever
ourselves, we must at least prevent others from becoming so. With us,
politics come after money; in the South, they take the lead in all
human pursuits. If, therefore, we want to get the upper hand with those
Southerners, we must abolish slavery, or, in other words, force the
planters to make money for themselves; then we shall see who can make
money faster, the South or the North. In the North all work for money;
and, as politics with us are no very lucrative pursuit, our _superior_
(rich?) men will have nothing to do with them. They prefer the prospect
of money to that of political distinction, and the actual possession of
it to everything else in the world.”
“Capital!” cried the old gentleman; “that’s the point Dr. Channing
is going to make. We would like to become like the Southerners, if
we could do so without pecuniary sacrifice; but, as this is entirely
out of the question, we must reduce those who are above us to our own
level. In this manner we shall promote equality and justice, and,
in addition, obtain credit with the world for philanthropy and true
Christian charity.”
“You may say what you please against the doctor,” said the eldest girl,
visibly displeased by the turn the conversation had taken. “I shall
always believe him _a charming preacher_.”
“I am myself very fond of his sermons,” added the old lady; “only I
prefer reading them at home to hearing them at church.”
“And I,” observed an elderly gentleman, “do not like his explanation of
the Scriptures by their general scope, and the disbelief of their being
written by Divine inspiration; though I heard his colleague assert,
that, _rather than disbelieve_ THE WHOLE, _he would take every part of
them_ FOR GOSPEL.”
* * * * *
And now I must bid good-b’ye to Boston and its remarkable inhabitants,
who, I am afraid, have already occupied my attention more than is
agreeable to my readers, and, perhaps, to the Bostonians themselves.
“Common sense” is certainly the staple commodity of _New England_; but
I cannot say I have always found it in the _metropolis_. The Bostonians
are too much flattered by their own public men and the press, not to
be occasionally benefited by the remarks of “a foreigner.” They all
call themselves an enthusiastic people,--comparing themselves to the
Athenians; but, during my whole stay in the United States, I have not
known one of them moved by the tender passion, which, strange to say,
never attacks an educated Bostonian _mal à propos_.
The gentlemen of that city never do anything out of season. Whenever
one of them falls in love, you may be sure he is quite ready to get
married, and that the object of his affection is a legitimate one. He
does not throw away his sentiment on some unattainable object, for he
husbands his feelings as he does his property. No man remembers better
than he the words of Bacon: “When it (love) entereth men’s minds, it
troubleth men’s _business_;” and, the latter constituting by far the
most important object of his life, it is comparatively a rare case to
see him _look out for a wife_ “before he sees his way clear ahead.” In
this manner he avoids a great deal of romance and vice; but all this
prudence and calculation, this impossibility of being betrayed into
some rash inconsiderate act, lend to his character a degree of hardness
and severity, which, though it may admirably qualify him for public
life, renders him, nevertheless, the most unamiable creature in society.
I have heard it said that the New-Englanders in general have a quicker
perception, and are shrewder, than Europeans or the rest of the
Americans. The Bostonians pride themselves on being “sharper” than the
Jews, and on preventing them from making a living in their city; but I
cannot say that this agrees with my experience. As regards quickness of
perception, they are certainly inferior to the Italians, and in part
even to the French; but they make up for it by their greater calmness,
which renders them less liable to error. They have not, as a certain
English writer believes, two heads; their clearness of judgment arises
only from the absence of emotions. Where men have but _one_ aim, and
that a definite and finite one, they are seldom deterred from it; so
that the vulgar, who merely judge by the success, often ascribe to them
great mental powers: but there is a kind of genius which, from its very
elevation, and its necessary incommensurability with the common mind,
is doomed to unceasing strife; and with this the New-Englanders have in
general but little sympathy.
The great difficulty which Europeans, and even Jews, find in acquiring
property in New England, is not so much owing to the superior
business-talent or cunning of the New-Englanders, as to the practice of
“every man’s doing every man’s business;” which reduces the price of
all kinds of labour by excessive competition, and leaves no room for
interlopers of any description. No species of industry is deemed vulgar
or degrading; and, while a European or a Southerner is obliged to do an
hundred things _honoris causâ_, the New-Englander undertakes nothing
without a prospect of advantage or reward.
Another deficiency in the composition of the New-Englander is the
absence of humour. I have, indeed, been shown a number of persons
who were said to possess a great deal of what is called “dry wit;”
but which, after all, was but an odd way of expressing common-place
ideas. Their conversation, generally, wants seasoning,--the spice of
imagination and taste. In sarcasm they succeed better; simply because
they have more judgment than fancy, and understand dissection better
than composition. I shall never forget the definition which a Southern
gentleman, a member of Congress, gave of the satirical powers of a
distinguished politician of the North. “He has no imagination,” said
he, “no humour, no keenness of wit; but his sarcasm resembles a very
cold razor, which takes off the skin without requiring an edge.”
These are some of the dark points in the character of the
New-Englander. His bright ones are exhibited in his relation to the
community as a citizen. Few people have so great a respect for the law,
and are so well able to govern themselves. In no other country are the
labouring classes so well instructed, so orderly, and, I may add, so
respectable,--in the _European_ sense of the word,--as in New England.
Though their State politics have generally been inclined towards Whig,
and even Toryism, they are nevertheless the most thorough Radicals in
principle, and, perhaps, the only people capable of enjoying so large
a portion of liberty without abusing it. In addition to this they
are sober, industrious, and, with the exception of a few straggling
pedlars, from whom it would be absurd to draw a general conclusion,
just and honourable in their dealings. In short, nature has done
everything to make them calm sober republicans; but reserved every
agreeable and amiable quality exclusively for the _women_. Not only
are “the ladies” better educated than “the gentlemen;” but also, owing
to their entire separation from trade and traffic, more imaginative,
high-minded, and patriotic. If the Bostonians, and the New-Englanders
in general, have been remarkable for deeds of public and national
charity, I am inclined to believe it was principally owing to
... “th’ balm that draps on wounds of woe
Frae woman’s pitying e’e.”
The women, in fact, are the real _aristocracy_ of New England; and I
shall go to live in Boston when Miss Martineau’s plan is realized, and
the women emancipated from thraldom.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] This is the Sunday “How do you do?” of the Bostonians.
[14] In his Letter to Henry Clay he avers that he has prepared himself
for his task by “self-purification;” but in what manner he does not
mention.