American Cooking—Evening Parties—Dress—Sleighing—Money-getting
Habits—Tax-Gatherer’s Notice—Indian Summer—Anecdote of the Duke of
Saxe-Weimar
In relating all I know of America, I surely must not omit so important
a feature as the cooking. There are sundry anomalies in the mode of
serving even a first-rate table; but as these are altogether matters of
custom, they by no means indicate either indifference or neglect in
this important business; and whether castors are placed on the table or
on the sideboard; whether soup, fish, patties, and salad be eaten in
orthodox order or not, signifies but little. I am hardly capable, I
fear, of giving a very erudite critique on the subject; general
observations therefore must suffice. The ordinary mode of living is
abundant, but not delicate. They consume an extraordinary quantity of
bacon. Ham and beaf-steaks appear morning, noon, and night. In eating,
they mix things together with the strangest incongruity imaginable. I
have seen eggs and oysters eaten together: the sempiternal ham with
apple-sauce; beefsteak with stewed peaches; and salt fish with onions.
The bread is everywhere excellent, but they rarely enjoy it themselves,
as they insist upon eating horrible half-baked hot rolls both morning
and evening. The butter is tolerable; but they have seldom such cream
as every little dairy produces in England; in fact, the cows are very
roughly kept, compared with our’s. Common vegetables are abundant and
very fine. I never saw sea-cale or cauliflowers, and either from the
want of summer rain, or the want of care, the harvest of green
vegetables is much sooner over than with us. They eat the Indian corn
in a great variety of forms; sometimes it is dressed green, and eaten
like peas; sometimes it is broken to pieces when dry, boiled plain, and
brought to table like rice; this dish is called hominy. The flour of it
is made into at least a dozen different sorts of cakes; but in my
opinion all bad. This flour, mixed in the proportion of one-third with
fine wheat, makes by far the best bread I ever tasted.
I never saw turbot, salmon, or fresh cod; but the rock and shad are
excellent. There is a great want of skill in the composition of sauces;
not only with fish, but with every thing. They use very few made
dishes, and I never saw any that would be approved by our savants. They
have an excellent wild duck, called the Canvass Back, which, if
delicately served, would surpass the black cock; but the game is very
inferior to our’s; they have no hares, and I never saw a pheasant. They
seldom indulge in second courses, with all their ingenious temptations
to the eating a second dinner; but almost every table has its dessert,
(invariably pronounced desart) which is placed on the table before the
cloth is removed, and consists of pastry, preserved fruits, and creams.
They are “extravagantly fond,” to use their own phrase, of puddings,
pies, and all kinds of “sweets,” particularly the ladies; but are by no
means such connoisseurs in soups and ragouts as the gastronomes of
Europe. Almost every one drinks water at table, and by a strange
contradiction, in the country where hard drinking is more prevalent
than in any other, there is less wine taken at dinner; ladies rarely
exceed one glass, and the great majority of females never take any. In
fact, the hard drinking, so universally acknowledged, does not take
place at jovial dinners, but, to speak plain English, in solitary
dram-drinking. Coffee is not served immediately after dinner, but makes
part of the serious matter of tea-drinking, which comes some hours
later. Mixed dinner parties of ladies and gentlemen are very rare, and
unless several foreigners are present, but little conversation passes
at table. It certainly does not, in my opinion, add to the well
ordering a dinner table, to set the gentlemen at one end of it, and the
ladies at the other; but it is very rarely that you find it otherwise.
Their large evening parties are supremely dull; the men sometimes play
cards by themselves, but if a lady plays, it must not be for money; no
ecarte, no chess; very little music, and that little lamentably bad.
Among the blacks, I heard some good voices, singing in tune; but I
scarcely ever heard a white American, male or female, go through an air
without being out of tune before the end of it; nor did I ever meet any
trace of science in the singing I heard in society. To eat
inconceivable quantities of cake, ice, and pickled oysters—and to show
half their revenue in silks and satins, seem to be the chief object
they have in these parties.
The most agreeable meetings, I was assured by all the young people,
were those to which no married women are admitted; of the truth of this
statement I have not the least doubt. These exclusive meetings occur
frequently, and often last to a late hour; on these occasions, I
believe, they generally dance. At regular balls, married ladies are
admitted, but seldom take much part in the amusement. The refreshments
are always profuse and costly, but taken in a most uncomfortable
manner. I have known many private balls, where every thing was on the
most liberal scale of expense, where the gentlemen sat down to supper
in one room, while the ladies took theirs, standing, in another.
What we call picnics are very rare, and when attempted, do not often
succeed well. The two sexes can hardly mix for the greater part of a
day without great restraint and ennui; it is quite contrary to their
general habits; the favourite indulgences of the gentlemen (smoking
cigars and drinking spirits), can neither be indulged in with decency,
nor resigned with complacency.
The ladies have strange ways of adding to their charms. They powder
themselves immoderately, face, neck, and arms, with pulverised starch;
the effect is indescribably disagreeable by daylight, and not very
favourable at any time. They are also most unhappily partial to false
hair, which they wear in surprising quantities; this is the more to be
lamented, as they generally have very fine hair of their own. I suspect
this fashion to arise from an indolent mode of making their toilet, and
from accomplished ladies’ maids not being very abundant; it is less
trouble to append a bunch of waving curls here, there, and every where,
than to keep their native tresses in perfect order.
Though the expense of the ladies’ dress greatly exceeds, in proportion
to their general style of living, that of the ladies of Europe, it is
very far (excepting in Philadelphia) from being in good taste. They do
not consult the seasons in the colours or in the style of their
costume; I have often shivered at seeing a young beauty picking her way
through the snow with a pale rose-coloured bonnet, set on the very top
of her head: I knew one young lady whose pretty little ear was actually
frostbitten from being thus exposed. They never wear muffs or boots,
and appear extremely shocked at the sight of comfortable walking shoes
and cotton stockings, even when they have to step to their sleighs over
ice and snow. They walk in the middle of winter with their poor little
toes pinched into a miniature slipper, incapable of excluding as much
moisture as might bedew a primrose. I must say in their excuse,
however, that they have, almost universally, extremely pretty feet.
They do not walk well, nor, in fact, do they ever appear to advantage
when in movement. I know not why this should be, for they have
abundance of French dancing-masters among them, but somehow or other it
is the fact. I fancied I could often trace a mixture of affectation and
of shyness in their little mincing unsteady step, and the ever changing
position of the hands. They do not dance well; perhaps I should rather
say they do not look well when dancing; lovely as their faces are, they
cannot, in a position that exhibits the whole person, atone for the
want of _tournure_, and for the universal defect in the formation of
the bust, which is rarely full, or gracefully formed.
I never saw an American man walk or stand well; notwithstanding their
frequent militia drillings, they are nearly all hollow chested and
round shouldered: perhaps this is occasioned by no officer daring to
say to a brother free-born “hold up your head;” whatever the cause, the
effect is very remarkable to a stranger. In stature, and in
physiognomy, a great majority of the population, both male and female,
are strikingly handsome, but they know not how to do their own honours;
half as much comeliness elsewhere would produce ten times as much
effect.
Nothing can exceed their activity and perseverance in all kinds of
speculation, handicraft, and enterprise, which promises a profitable
pecuniary result. I heard an Englishman, who had been long resident in
America, declare that in following, in meeting, or in overtaking, in
the street, on the road, or in the field, at the theatre, the
coffee-house, or at home, he had never overheard Americans conversing
without the word DOLLAR being pronounced between them. Such unity of
purpose, such sympathy of feeling, can, I believe, be found nowhere
else, except, perhaps, in an ants’ nest. The result is exactly what
might be anticipated. This sordid object, for ever before their eyes,
must inevitably produce a sordid tone of mind, and, worse still, it
produces a seared and blunted conscience on all questions of probity. I
know not a more striking evidence of the low tone of morality which is
generated by this universal pursuit of money, than the manner in which
the New England States are described by Americans. All agree in saying
that they present a spectacle of industry and prosperity delightful to
behold, and this is the district and the population most constantly
quoted as the finest specimen of their admirable country; yet I never
met a single individual in any part of the Union who did not paint
these New Englanders as sly, grinding, selfish, and tricking. The
yankees (as the New Englanders are called) will avow these qualities
themselves with a complacent smile, and boast that no people on the
earth can match them at over reaching in a bargain. I have heard them
unblushingly relate stories of their cronies and friends, which, if
believed among us, would banish the heroes from the fellowship of
honest men for ever; and all this is uttered with a simplicity which
sometimes led me to doubt if the speakers knew what honour and honesty
meant. Yet the Americans declare that “they are the most moral people
upon earth.” Again and again I have heard this asserted, not only in
conversation, and by their writings, but even from the pulpit. Such
broad assumption of superior virtue demands examination, and after four
years of attentive and earnest observation and enquiry, my honest
conviction is, that the standard of moral character in the United
States is very greatly lower than in Europe. Of their religion, as it
appears outwardly, I have had occasion to speak frequently; I pretend
not to judge the heart, but, without any uncharitable presumption, I
must take permission to say, that both Protestant England and Catholic
France show an infinitely superior religious and moral aspect to mortal
observation, both as to reverend decency of external observance, and as
to the inward fruit of honest dealing between man and man.
In other respects I think no one will be disappointed who visits the
country, expecting to find no more than common sense might teach him to
look for, namely, a vast continent, by far the greater part of which is
still in the state in which nature left it, and a busy, bustling,
industrious population, hacking and hewing their way through it. What
greatly increases the interest of this spectacle, is the wonderful
facility for internal commerce, furnished by the rivers, lakes, and
canals, which thread the country in every direction, producing a
rapidity of progress in all commercial and agricultural speculation
altogether unequalled. This remarkable feature is perceptible in every
part of the union into which the fast spreading population has hitherto
found its way, and forms, I think, the most remarkable and interesting
peculiarity of the country. I hardly remember a single town where
vessels of some description or other may not constantly be seen in full
activity.
Their carriages of every kind are very unlike ours; those belonging to
private individuals seem all constructed with a view to summer use, for
which they are extremely well calculated, but they are by no means
comfortable in winter. The waggons and cars are built with great
strength, which is indeed necessary, from the roads they often have to
encounter. The stagecoaches are heavier and much less comfortable than
those of France; to those of England they can bear no comparison. I
never saw any harness that I could call handsome, nor any equipage
which, as to horses, carriage, harness, and servants, could be
considered as complete. The sleighs are delightful, and constructed at
so little expense that I wonder we have not all got them in England,
lying by, in waiting for the snow, which often remains with us long
enough to permit their use. Sleighing is much more generally enjoyed by
night than by day, for what reason I could never discover, unless it
be, that no gentlemen are to be found disengaged from business in the
mornings. Nothing, certainly, can be more agreeable than the gliding
smoothly and rapidly along, deep sunk in soft furs, the moon shining
with almost midday splendour, the air of crystal brightness, and the
snow sparkling on every side, as if it were sprinkled with diamonds.
And then the noiseless movement of the horses, so mysterious and
unwonted, and the gentle tinkling of the bells you meet and carry, all
help at once to soothe and excite the spirits: in short, I had not the
least objection to sleighing by night, I only wished to sleigh by day
also.
Almost every resident in the country has a carriage they call a
carryall, which name I suspect to be a corruption of the cariole so
often mentioned in the pretty Canadian story of Emily Montagu. It is
clumsy enough, certainly, but extremely convenient, and admirably
calculated, with its thick roof and moveable draperies, for every kind
of summer excursion.
Their steam-boats, were the social arrangements somewhat improved,
would be delightful, as a mode of travelling; but they are very seldom
employed for excursions of mere amusement: nor do I remember seeing
pleasure-boats, properly so called, at any of the numerous places where
they might be used with so much safety and enjoyment.
How often did our homely adage recur to me, “All work and no play would
make Jack a dull boy;” Jonathan is a very dull boy. We are by no means
so gay as our lively neighbours on the other side the Channel, but,
compared with Americans, we are whirligigs and tetotums; every day is a
holyday, and every night a festival.
Perhaps if the ladies had quite their own way, a little more relaxation
would be permitted; but there is one remarkable peculiarity in their
manners which precludes the possibility of any dangerous outbreaking of
the kind: few ladies have any command of ready money entrusted to them.
I have been a hundred times present when bills for a few dollars,
perhaps for one, have been brought for payment to ladies living in
perfectly easy circumstances, who have declared themselves without
money, and referred the claimant to their husbands for payment. On
every occasion where immediate disbursement is required it is the same;
even in shopping for ready cash they say, “send a bill home with the
things, and my husband will give you a draft.”
I think that it was during my stay at Washington, that I was informed
of a government regulation, which appeared to me curious; I therefore
record it here.
Every Deputy Post-Master is required to insert in his return the title
of every newspaper received at his office for distribution. This return
is laid before the Secretary of State, who, perfectly knowing the
political character of each newspaper, is thus enabled to feel the
pulse of every limb of the monster mob. This is a well imagined device
for getting a peep at the politics of a country where newspapers make
part of the daily food, but is it quite consistent with their entire
freedom? I do not believe we have any such tricks to regulate the
disposal of offices and appointments.
I believe it was in Indiana that Mr. T. met with a printed notice
relative to the payment of taxes, which I preserved as a curious sample
of the manner in which the free citizens are coaxed and reasoned into
obeying the laws.
“LOOK OUT DELINQUENTS”
“Those indebted to me for taxes, fees, notes, and accounts, are
specially requested to call and pay the same on or before the 1st day
of December, 1828, as no longer indulgence will be given. I have called
time and again, by advertisement and otherwise, to little effect; but
now the time has come when my situation requires immediate payment from
all indebted to me. It is impossible for me to pay off the amount of
the duplicates of taxes and my other debts without recovering the same
of those from whom it is due. I am at a loss to know the reason why
those charged with taxes neglect to pay; from the negligence of many it
would seem that they think the money is mine, or I have funds to
discharge the taxes due to the State, and that I can wait with them
until it suits their convenience to pay. The money is not mine; neither
have I the funds to settle amount of the duplicate. My only resort is
to collect; in doing so I should be sorry to have to resort to the
authority given me by law for the recovery of the same. It should be
the first object of every good citizen to pay his taxes, for it is in
that way government is supported. Why are taxes assessed unless they
are collected? Depend upon it, I shall proceed to collect agreeably to
law, so govern yourselves accordingly.
JOHN SPENCER,
Sh’ff and Collector, D.C.
_Nov._ 20, 1828.”
“N.B. On Thursday, the 27th inst. A. St. Clair and Geo. H. Dunn,
Esqrs. depart for Indianopolis; I wish as many as can pay to do so,
to enable me to forward as much as possible, to save the twenty-one
per cent, that will be charged against me after the 8th of December
next.
JS.”
The first autumn I passed in America, I was surprised to find a great
and very oppressive return of heat, accompanied with a heavy mistiness
in the air, long after the summer heats were over; when this state of
the atmosphere comes on, they say, “we have got to the Indian summer.”
On desiring to have this phrase explained, I was told that the
phenomenon described as the _Indian Summer_ was occasioned by the
Indians setting fire to the woods, which spread heat and smoke to a
great distance; but I afterwards met with the following explanation,
which appears to me much more reasonable. “The Indian summer is so
called because, at the particular period of the year in which it
obtains, the Indians break up their village communities, and go to the
interior to prepare for their winter hunting. This season seems to mark
a dividing line, between the heat of summer, and the cold of winter,
and is, from its mildness, suited to these migrations. The cause of
this heat is the slow combustion of the leaves and other vegetable
matter of the boundless and interminable forests. Those who at this
season of the year have penetrated these forests, know all about it. To
the feet the heat is quite sensible, whilst the ascending vapour warms
every thing it embraces, and spreading out into the wide atmosphere,
fills the circuit of the heavens with its peculiar heat and smokiness.”
This unnatural heat sufficiently accounts for the sickliness of the
American autumn. The effect of it is extremely distressing to the
nerves, even when the general health continues good; to me, it was
infinitely more disagreeable than the glowing heat of the dog-days.
A short time before we arrived in America, the Duke of Saxe-Weimar made
a tour of the United States. I heard many persons speak of his
unaffected and amiable manners, yet he could not escape the dislike
which every trace of gentlemanly feeling is sure to create among the
ordinary class of Americans. As an amusing instance of this, I made the
following extract from a newspaper.
“A correspondent of the Charlestown Gazette tells an anecdote connected
with the Duke of Saxe-Weimar’s recent journey through our country,
which we do not recollect to have heard before, although some such
story is told of the veritable Capt. Basil Hall. The scene occurred on
the route between Augusta and Milledgeville; it seems that the
sagacious Duke engaged three or four, or more seats, in the regular
stage, for the accommodation of himself and suite, and thought by this
that he had secured the monopoly of the vehicle. Not so, however; a
traveller came along, and entered his name upon the book, and secured
his seat by payment of the customary charges. To the Duke’s great
surprise on entering the stage, he found our traveller comfortably
housed in one of the most eligible seats, wrapt up in his fear-nought,
and snoring like a buffalo. The Duke, greatly irritated, called for the
question of consideration. He demanded, in broken English, the cause of
the gross intrusion, and insisted in a very princely manner, though
not, it seems in very princely language, upon the incumbent vacating
the seat in which he had made himself so impudently at home. But the
Duke had yet to learn his first lesson of republicanism. The driver was
one of those sturdy southrons, who can always, and at a moment’s
warning, whip his weight in wild cats: and he as resolutely told the
Duke, that the traveller was as good, if not a better man, than
himself; and that no alteration of the existing arrangement could be
permitted. Saxe-Weimar became violent at this opposition, so unlike any
to which his education hitherto had ever subjected him, and threatened
John with the application of the bamboo. This was one of those threats
which in Georgia dialect would subject a man to “a rowing up salt
river;” and, accordingly, down leaped our driver from his box, and
peeling himself for the combat, he leaped about the vehicle in the most
wild-boar style, calling upon the prince of a five acre patch to put
his threat in execution. But he of the star refused to make up issue in
the way suggested, contenting himself with assuring the enraged
southron of a complaint to his excellency the Governor, on arriving at
the seat of government. This threat was almost as unlucky as the
former, for it wrought the individual for whom it was intended into
that species of fury, which, through discriminating in its madness, is
nevertheless without much limit in its violence, and he swore that the
Governor might go to —, and for his part he would just as leave lick
the Governor as the Duke; he’d like no better fun than to give both
Duke and Governor a dressing in the same breath; could do it, he had
little doubt, &c. &c.; and instigating one fist to diverge into the
face of the marvelling and panic-stricken nobleman, with the other he
thrust him down into a seat alongside the traveller, whose presence had
been originally of such sore discomfort to his excellency, and bidding
the attendants jump in with their discomfited master, he mounted his
box in triumph, and went on his journey.” I fully believe that this
brutal history would be as distasteful to the travelled and polished
few who are to be found scattered through the Union, as it is to me:
but if they do not deem the _possibility_ of such a scene to be a
national degradation, I differ from them. The American people (speaking
of the great mass) have no more idea of what constitutes the difference
between this “Prince of a five acre patch,” and themselves, than a
dray-horse has of estimating the points of the elegant victor of the
race-course. Could the dray-horse speak, when expected to yield the
daintiest stall to his graceful rival, he would say, “a horse is a
horse;” and is it not with the same logic that the transatlantic
Houynnhnm puts down all superiority with “a man is a man?”
This story justifies the reply of Talleyrand, when asked by Napoleon
what he thought of the Americans, “Sire, ce sont des fiers cochons, et
des cochons fiers.”