mammoth omnibus from our hotel to the "Spring" to bathe and drink the
delectable sulphur-water, there abounding. On these occasions, every one
was good-humored, obliging, and cheerfully inclined to make sacrifices
for the comfort and convenience of others. The _ladies_, especially,
were the objects of particular care and courtesy, being always politely
assisted up and down the high, awkward steps of our lumbering
conveyance, with their bathing parcels, etc.
----"All went merry as a marriage bell,"
until one unlucky day when some theological point became matter of
discussion between two men of opposite opinions, just as we were
commencing our return-ride from the Spring. Others were soon drawn,
first into listening, and then into a participation in the conversation,
until almost every man in the company had betrayed a predilection for
the distinctive tenets of some particular religious sect. Thus,
Baptists, Presbyterians, Methodists, Congregationalists, Episcopalians,
Unitarians, and Romanists stood revealed, each the ardent champion of
his own peculiar views. The ladies had the good sense to remain silent,
with the exception of an "Equal Rights" woman, whose wordy interposition
clearly proved that
"_Fools rush in where angels fear to tread!_"
Well! of course, no one was convinced by this sudden outbreak of varied
eloquence of the fallacy of opinions he had previously entertained, and
of the superior wisdom of those of any one of his companions. Indeed, so
eager was each in the maintenance of his own ground, as scarcely to heed
the arguments of his opponents, except as furnishing a fresh impulse for
advancing his own with increasing pertinacity.
Presently, flushed cheeks, angry glances, and louder tones gave token
that the meek spirit of the long-suffering _Prince of Peace_ was not
dominant in the breasts of these, the professed advocates of his
doctrines. Rude language, too, gradually took the place of the professed
courtesy with which the discussion had begun, and the ladies looked
uneasily from the windows, as if to satisfy themselves that escape from
such disagreeable association was near at hand. Happily for them, our
Jehu, though unmindful of any particular occasion for haste, at length
drew up before Comstock's portico. But, in place of the usual patient
waiting of each for his turn to alight, and the usual number of extended
hands that were wont to aid the ladies in their descent, every one of
the angry combatants crowded hastily out of the vehicle, almost before
it had fairly stopped, wholly disregardful alike of the toes of his
neighbors and the claims before universally accorded to the gentler
portion of our company, and hurried up the steps, apparently forgetful
of everything except the uncomfortable chafings of wounded self-love!
Each man, evidently, regarded himself as the most abused of mortals, and
the rest as a parcel of obstinate fools, for whom it were a great waste
of ammunition to assume the martyr's fate! And I am by no means sure,
that the cheerful amicability that had before prevailed among us was
ever fully restored after this unhappy outbreak of _religious feeling_!
* * * * *
The gayest of capitals experienced a sensation! The wittiest of circles,
where all was wit, were, for once, content to listen only! The brave,
the great, the learned, and the fair, contended for the smiles and the
society of the Marquis de Plusesprit, the handsomest, the most
accomplished, and the wittiest man in Paris!
One day, while this social _furore_ was at its height, a celebrated
physician received a professional visit from an unknown, whose pale
cheeks and sunken eyes bore testimony to the suffering to which he
described himself as being a prey. The man of science prepared a
prescription, but assured his patient that what would most speedily
effect his restoration was change of scene and agreeable society.
"Seek in congenial companionship relief from the mental anxiety by which
you are evidently oppressed," said the modern Esculapius--"fly from
study and self-contemplation;--above all, _court the society of the
Marquis de Plusesprit_!"
"Alas! doctor," returned the stranger, "_I am Plusesprit!_"
* * * * *
Speaking of Repartee, reminds me of a pretty scene of which I was a
witness, not long since, while ruralizing for a week with an old friend
and his charming daughters, at their beautiful and hospitable home, on
the banks of the Hudson. By the way, I have before introduced you to
their acquaintance--the pleasant family of _letter-writing memory_!--
An elderly foreign gentleman, of large information and agreeable
manners, but not one of fortune's favorites, had been dining with us, by
special invitation, and the lovely daughters of my host had vied with
each other in doing honor to one in whom sensitiveness may have been
rendered a little morbid by the effect of the tyrant Circumstance. Every
hour succeeding his arrival had served more effectually to melt away a
certain constraint of manner, by which he seemed at first oppressed, and
his expressive face grew bland and genial under the sunny influences of
courteous respect and appreciation, until when he rose to go away at
sunset, he seemed almost metamorphosed out of the man of the morning.
The sisters three, accompanied their agreeable visitor to the
vine-draped veranda, where I was already seated, attracted by the beauty
of the evening, and of my local surroundings. I had been particularly
admiring a fine large orange-tree, at the entrance of the porch, which
was laden with flowers and fruit, and, with glittering pearls from a
shower just bestowed upon it by the gardener.
"Will you not come again, before Colonel Lunettes leaves us, Mr. ----?"
asked my sweet young friend Fanny, in her most cordial tones, linking
her arm in that of one sister, and clasping the waist of the other, as
she spoke, "we will invoke the Loves and Graces to attend you"----
"The Graces!" exclaimed the guest, quickly,--extending his hands towards
the group, and bowing profoundly--"then you will come yourselves!--_the
Graces are before me!_" And then he added, with a courtly air--"Really,
Miss Fanny, you too highly honor a rusty old man"----
"An old man," interrupted Fanny, with the utmost vivacity, dissolving
the "linked sweetness" that had intwined her with her sisters, and
extending her beautiful arm towards the superb orange-tree before her,
"an old man!--here is a fitting emblem of our friend Mr. ----;--all the
attractiveness of youth still mingled with the matured fruit of
experience!"
Charming Fanny! God bless her!--she is one of those earth-angels whose
manifold gifts seem used only to give happiness to others!
* * * * *
I called one evening, not long since, to pay my respects to the daughter
of a recently-deceased and much-valued friend. She had been persuaded
into a journey to a distant city, in search of the health and spirits
that had been exceedingly impaired by watching beside the death-bed of
her departed mother. Her appearance could scarcely fail, as it seemed to
me, to interest the most insensible stranger to her history;--for
myself, I was inexpressibly touched by the language of the colorless
face and languid eyes to which a simple black robe lent additional
meaning.
Just as I began to indulge a hope that the faint smile my endeavors at
cheerful conversation had caused to flicker about her lips--as a
rose-tint illumines for a moment the white summit of an Alpine
height--there entered the drawing-room of our hostess a bevy of noisy
women, young and old, who gathered about the sofa, where my friend and I
were seated near our hostess, and rattled away like so many pieces of
small (very small!) artillery.
I saw plainly that the mere noise was almost too much for the nerves of
the silent occupant of the sofa corner; but what was my surprise at
hearing them go into the most minute particulars respecting the recent
death of a gentleman of our acquaintance! His dying words, his very
death-struggles were carefully reported, and the grief of the survivors
graphically described!
Unfortunately, having relinquished my seat beside the mourner to one of
these women, I was powerless in my intense wish to attract her attention
from the subject of their discourse; but my eyes were riveted upon her,
with the keenest sympathy for the torture she must be undergoing. Her
pale face had gradually grown white as a moonbeam, until, at length, as
though strengthened by desperation, she sprang from her seat, and
essayed to leave the room. One step forward, a half-stifled sob, and the
slender form lay extended on the floor in hapless insensibility.
* * * * *
"While Mr. Smith is tuning his guitar, let us beg Mrs. Williams to
redeem her promise of reciting Campbell's 'Last Man' for us," said a
graceful hostess, mindful of the truth that some of her guests preferred
eloquence and poetry to sweet sounds, and desirous, too, of drawing out
the accomplishments of all her guests.
Mrs. Williams, gifted with
"The vision and the faculty divine,"
glanced a little uneasily at the ever-twanging guitar as she politely
assented to the requests that eagerly seconded that of her hostess. Mr.
Smith still continued to hum broken snatches of an air, twisting the
screws of his instrument with complete self-engrossment, the while.
"I will not interrupt Mr. Smith," said the lady, in more expressive
tones than were ever elicited from catgut by the efforts of that
gentleman, moving with a step graceful as that of a gazelle to the other
end of the room.
Our little circle gathered about her, and enjoyed, in an exquisite
degree,
"The feast of reason, and the flow of soul,"
that so far surpasses the merely sensuous pleasure afforded by music,
when not associated with exalted sentiment.
As the company broke into little groups, after thanking Mrs. Williams
for the high gratification for which we were her debtors, I overheard
Mr. Smith say, with a discontented air, to a youth with a "_lovely
moustache_," who had "accompanied" him in his previous musical
endeavors, "I'll never bring my instrument _here_ again!"
At this critical moment, our hostess approached with a water-ice, as a
propitiatory offering, and expressed the hope that the guitar was now
renewed for action. The musician, with offended dignity, only
condescended to reply, as he deposited his idol in a corner--
"Thank you, ma'am; I supposed your friends were _fond of music_!"
* * * * *
Discussing the mooted subject of _beards_ one morning lately, with some
sprightly young ladies of my acquaintance, the following specimen of
quickness of repartee was elicited. I record it for your amusement.
"Among the ancients, I believe," said a fair girl, "a long, snowy beard
was considered an emblem of the wisdom of the possessor."
"And how is it in modern times?" inquired another lady, "does wisdom
keep pace, in exact proportion with length of beard?"
"No, indeed," exclaimed the first speaker, laughingly, "for,
"If beards long and bushy true wisdom denote,
Then Plato must bow to a hairy he-goat!"
* * * * *
What would an educated foreigner--Kossuth, for instance, who learned
English _by the study of Shakspeare_--make of the following specimens of
colloquial American language?
"Do tell, Jul," exclaimed a young lady, "where _have_ you been
marvelling to? You look like Time in the primer!"
"No you don't," returned the young lady addressed, "you can't come it
over dis chil'!"
"No, no," chimed in a youth of the party, "you can't come it quite, Miss
Lib! Don't try to poke fun at us!"
"You've all been _sparking_ in the woods, I guess!"
"Oh, ho," laughed one of the speakers, "I thought you'd get it through
your hair, at last--that's rich!"
"Why!" retorted the interlocutor, tartly, "do you think I don't know
tother from which?"
"I think you 'know beans' as well as most Hoosiers," replied her
particular admirer, in a tone of unmistakable blandishment.
"Everybody knows Jul's _some pumpkins_," admitted one of her fair
companions.
"Come, Jul, rig yourself in a jiffy," said a bonny lassie, who had not
yet spoken, "you are in for a spree!"
"What's in the wind--who's to stand the shot?" cautiously inquired the
damsel addressed.
"We're bound on a spree, I tell you! You must be _green_ to think we'll
own the corn now! Come, fix up, immediately, if not sooner!" so saying,
the energetic speaker seized her friend round the waist and gallopaded
her out of the room.
Presently some one said, "Well, Jul and Lotty have made themselves
scarce!--I----by George, it makes a fellow open his potato-trap to hang
around waitin' so," and an expansive yawn attested the sincerity of this
declaration.
"I could scare up my traps a heap sight quicker, I reckon, and tote 'em
too, from here to the river, nigger fashion," rejoined a Southerner, of
the group.
"Some chicken fixins and pie doins wouldn't be so bad--would they,
though?" whispered a tall, Western man to his next neighbor.
"And a little suthin to wet your whistle, too," added another,
overhearing the remark--"you're a trump, anyhow!"
"Then you do _kill a snake_, sometimes, Mr. Smith," inquired one of his
auditors, smiling significantly.
"Does your anxious mother know you're out?" retorted Mr. Smith, twirling
his fingers on his nose.
"Don't be wrathy, Smith--what's your tipple, old fellow?" put in one of
the young men, soothingly stroking the broad shoulders of that
interesting youth.
"You're E Pluribus--you're a brick," returned Mr. Smith, softening, "but
where in thunder are those female women? They'ave sloped and given us
the mitten, I spose"----
"You ain't posted up, my boy, if you think they'd given us the slip,"
answered his friend.
"By jingo! it takes the patience of all the world and the rest of
mankind to dance attendance upon them--they ain't as peart as our _gals
o' wind_!" cried Mr. Smith, in an ecstasy of impatience.
"How's your ma, Mr. John Smith?" inquired the merry voice of "Jul," who
had entered unperceived, "you'd better dry up!"
"Here we are, let's be off," shouted a young gentleman.
"All aboard," echoed another.
"Now we'll go it with a rush!" burst from a third, and, suiting the
action to the word, my _dramatis personae_ vanished like the wind.
* * * * *
Having the happiness to pass a morning at the _Louvre_ with my early and
lamented friend, Washington Allston, he said to me, as arm in arm we
sauntered slowly through one of the Galleries--"Come and study one of my
particular favorites with me--one might as well attempt to taste all the
nondescript dishes at a Chinese state-dinner as to enjoy every picture
in a collection, at a single visit. I do not even glance at more than
one or two, unless I know that I shall have months before me for
renewing my inspection--better take away one distinct recollection, to
add to one's _private collection_, than half a dozen confused, imperfect
copies!"
I think it was a _Murillo_ before which the artist paused while
speaking; the celebrated work representing a monk, who had been
interrupted by death while writing his own biography, as being permitted
to return to earth to complete his self-imposed task. I am not sure but
this picture, however, was added some years later to the treasures of
the Louvre, by Napoleon--for we were both young men then--however, it
matters not. I was quite as much occupied in observing the _living
picture_ before me, as that of the great master. And, though memory has
proved somewhat treacherous, I still vividly recollect the spiritualized
face of this true child of genius, as he contemplated the magnificent
impersonation. His brow grew radiant, and his eye! ah, who shall portray
that soul-lit eye, or justly record the poetic language that fell,
almost unconsciously, from his half-inspired lips! Sacredly are they
cherished among the hoarded memories of youthful friendship? It was only
my purpose to recall for your benefit the opinion and practice of one so
fully competent to advise in relation to our subject.
What Disraeli has somewhere said of eating, may, with equal nicety of
epicureanism, be applied to the enjoyment of Ideal Art, and of that of
which it is the type--natural beauty:--"To eat, really to eat," asserts
the discriminatingly sensuous Jew, "one should eat alone, in an easy
dress, by a soft light, and of a single dish at a time!" For myself--but
there's no accounting for tastes!--I should desire on all such
occasions,
"One fair spirit for my minister,"
or rather, for my sympathizing companion!
* * * * *
As an illustration of the advantage to a man in public life, of _ready
elocution and ready wit_, let me sketch for you a little scene of which
I was the amused and interested witness, one morning some months ago,
while on a visit at Washington.
A _Chaplain_ was to be elected for the House of Representatives. General
Granger, of New York, proposed a Soldier of the Revolution as well as of
the Cross--the Rev. Mr. Waldo--adding a few impressive facts in relation
to his venerable and interesting friend--as that he was then in his
ninety-fourth year, had borne arms for his country in his youth, etc.
Upon this, some member, upon the _opposition benches_, as the English
say, called out:
"What are his claims? where did he serve?"
"The gentleman will permit me to refer him to the Pension Office,"
returned General Granger, with the most smiling urbanity; "he will there
find the more satisfactory answer to his queries."
"What are Mr. Waldo's politics?"
"Though a most amiable gentleman and devout Christian, he belongs, sir,
to--the _Church Militant_!"
"Is he a _Filibuster_?"
"Even so, sir! Mr. Waldo filibustered for the _Old Thirteen_, against
George the Third, in the American Revolution!"
I am, my dear boys, as ever,
Your affectionate,
"UNCLE HAL."
LETTER X.
HABIT.
MY DEAR FRIENDS:
If you wish to have power to say, in the words of the imperial slave of
the beautiful Egyptian,
"Let me, . . . . . . .
With those hands that grasp'd the heaviest club,
Subdue my worthiest _self_,"
you must not wholly overlook the importance of _Habit_, while
establishing your system of life.
Always indicative of character, habit may yet, to a certain extent, do
us the greatest injustice, through mere inadvertency. Indeed, few young
persons attach much importance to such matters, until compelled by
necessity to unlearn, with a painful effort, what has been insensibly
acquired.
Permit me, then, a few random suggestions, intended rather to awaken
your attention to this branch of a polite education, than to furnish
elaborate directions in relation to it.
Judging from the prevalent tone of social intercourse among our
countrymen, both at home and abroad, one might naturally make the
inference, that most of them regard _Rudeness_ and _Republicanism_ as
synonymous terms. Depend upon it, that as a people, we are retrograding
on this point. Our upper class--or what would fain be deemed such--in
society, may more successfully imitate the fashionable follies and
conventional peculiarities of the Old World, than their predecessors
upon the stage of action did; but fashion is not good breeding, any more
than arrogant assumption, or a defiant independence of the amenities of
life, is true manliness. Breaking away from the ceremonious old school
of habit and manner, we are rapidly running into the opposite extreme,
and the masses who, with little time or inclination for personal
reflection, on such subjects, naturally take their clue, to some extent,
from the assumed exponents of the laws of the fickle goddess,
exaggerating the value of the defective models they seek to imitate,
into the grossest caricature of the whole, and, mistaking rudeness for
ease, and impudence for independence, so defy all abstract propriety,
as, if not to "make the angels weep," at least to mortify and disgust
all observant, thinking men, whose love and pride of country sees in
trifles even, indications more or less auspicious to national
advancement.
All this defiance of social restraint, this professed contempt for the
suavities and graces that should redeem existence from the complete
engrossment of actualities, is bad enough at home; but its exhibition
abroad is doubly humiliating to our national dignity. Every American who
visits foreign countries, whether as the accredited official
representative of his government, or simply in the character of a
private citizen, owes a duty to his native land, as one of those by the
observance of whom strangers are forming an estimate of the social and
political advancement of the people who are making the great experiment
of the world, and upon whom the eyes of all are fixed with a peculiar
and scrutinizing interest.
It has been well said of us, in this regard, that "_our worst slavery is
the slavery to ourselves_." Trammelled by the narrowest social
prejudices at home, Americans, breaking loose from these restraints
abroad, run riot, like ill-mannered school-boys, suddenly released from
the discipline which, from its very severity, prompts them to indulge in
the extreme of license. Thus, we lately had accounts of the humiliating
conduct of some Americans, who, being guests one night at the Tuileries,
actually so far forgot all decency as to intrude their drunken
impertinence upon the personal observation of the Emperor! And, when
informed, the next morning, that, at the instance of their insulted
host, the police had followed them, when they left the palace, to
ascertain whether they were not suspicious characters who had
surreptitiously obtained admittance to the imperial fete, they are
reported to have pronounced the intelligence "_rich!_" Shame on such
exhibitions!--they disgrace us nationally.
If our countrymen would be content to learn from older peoples on these
points, it would be well. In the Elegant and Ideal Arts, in Literature,
in general Science, the superiority of our predecessors in the history
of Progress, is cheerfully admitted. Can we, then, learn nothing from
the matured civilization of the Old World in regard to the _Art of
Living_? Shall we defy the race to which we belong, on this point alone?
This secret is possessed in greatest perfection by those who have
longest studied its details, and some long existent nations who display
little practical wisdom in matters of political science, are greybeard
sages here. So then, let us learn from them what they can easily save us
the trouble of acquiring by difficult experiments for ourselves, and,
concentrating our energies upon higher objects, give them back a full
equivalent for their knowledge of the best mode of serving the _Lares_,
the _Muses_, and the _Graces_, by a successful illustration of the
truth, that _as a people we are capable of self-government_! We shall,
then, no longer have the wife of an American minister ignorantly
invading the Court Rules at Madrid, by sporting the colors sacred to
royal attire there, and so giving occasion for national offense, as well
as individual conflict, nor furnish Punch with material for the
admonitory reflection that the bond of family union between John Bull
and his cousin Jonathan must be somewhat uncertain "when so small a
matter as the _tie of a cravat can materially affect the price of
stocks_!" And, when vulgar bluster and braggadocio are no longer
mistaken for the proper assertion of national and individual
independence, we shall not have an American gentleman who, like our
justly-distinguished countryman, George Peabody, constantly exhibits
the most urbane courtesy, alike towards foreigners and towards the
citizens of the native country to which his life has been one prolonged
paean, accused of _toadying_, because he quietly conforms to the social
usages of the people among whom he lives!
But pardon me these generalities. I have been unintentionally led into
them, I believe, by my keen sense of mortification at some of the
incidents to which I have alluded.
Coming then to details, let us, primarily, resolve to be slaves to
nothing and to no one--neither to others nor to ourselves; and to
endeavor to establish such habits as shall entitle each of us, in the
estimation of discriminating observers, to the distinctive name of
_gentleman_.