There is one kind of extravagance rapidly increasing in this country,
which, in its effects on our purses and our _habits_, is one of the
worst kinds of extravagance; I mean the rage for travelling, and
for public amusements. The good old home habits of our ancestors are
breaking up--it will be well if our virtue and our freedom do not
follow them! It is easy to laugh at such prognostics,--and we are well
aware that the virtue we preach is considered almost obsolete,--but
let any reflecting mind inquire how decay has begun in all republics,
and then let them calmly ask themselves whether we are in no danger,
in departing thus rapidly from the simplicity and industry of our
forefathers.
Nations do not plunge _at once_ into ruin--governments do not change
_suddenly_--the causes which bring about the final blow, are scarcely
perceptible in the beginning; but they increase in numbers, and in
power; they press harder and harder upon the energies and virtue of a
people; and the last steps only are alarmingly hurried and irregular.
A republic without industry, economy, and integrity, is Samson
shorn of his locks. A luxurious and idle _republic_! Look at the
phrase!--The words were never made to be married together; every body
sees it would be death to one of them.
And are not _we_ becoming luxurious and idle? Look at our steamboats,
and stages, and taverns! There you will find mechanics, who have left
debts and employment to take care of themselves, while they go to take
a peep at the great canal, or the opera-dancers. There you will find
domestics all agog for their wages-worth of travelling; why should
they look out for 'a rainy day?' There are hospitals enough to provide
for them in sickness; and as for marrying, they have no idea of that,
till they can find a man who will support them genteelly. There you
will find mothers, who have left the children at home with Betsey,
while they go to improve their minds at the Mountain House, or the
Springs.
If only the rich did this, all would be well. They benefit others, and
do not injure themselves. In any situation, idleness is their curse,
and uneasiness is the tax they must pay for affluence; but their
restlessness is as great a benefit to the community as the motions of
Prince Esterhazy, when at every step the pearls drop from his coat.
People of moderate fortune have just as good a right to travel as the
wealthy; but is it not unwise? Do they not injure themselves and their
families? You say travelling is cheap. So is staying at home. Besides,
do you count _all_ the costs?
The money you pay for stages and steamboats is the smallest of the
items. There are clothes bought which would not otherwise be bought;
those clothes are worn out and defaced twenty times as quick as they
would have been at home; children are perhaps left with domestics,
or strangers; their health and morals, to say the least, under very
uncertain influence; your substance is wasted in your absence by those
who have no self-interest to prompt them to carefulness; you form an
acquaintance with a multitude of people, who will be sure to take
your house in their way, when they travel next year; and finally, you
become so accustomed to excitement, that home appears insipid, and
it requires no small effort to return to the quiet routine of your
duties. And what do you get in return for all this? Some pleasant
scenes, which will soon seem to you like a dream; some pleasant faces,
which you will never see again; and much of crowd, and toil, and dust,
and bustle.
I once knew a family which formed a striking illustration of my
remarks. The man was a farmer, and his wife was an active, capable
woman, with more of ambition than sound policy. Being in debt, they
resolved to take fashionable boarders from Boston, during the summer
season. These boarders, at the time of their arrival, were projecting
a jaunt to the Springs; and they talked of Lake George crystals, and
Canadian music, and English officers, and 'dark blue Ontario,' with
its beautiful little brood of _lakelets_, as Wordsworth would call
them; and how one lady was dressed superbly at Saratoga; and how
another was scandalized for always happening to drop her fan in the
vicinity of the wealthiest beaux. All this fired the quiet imagination
of the good farmer's wife; and no sooner had the boarders departed to
enjoy themselves in spite of heat, and dust, and fever-and-ague, than
she stated her determination to follow them. 'Why have we not as good
a right to travel, as they have?' said she; 'they have paid us money
enough to go to Niagara with; and it really is a shame for people to
live and die so ignorant of their own country.' 'But then we want the
money to pay for that stock, which turned out unlucky, you know.' 'Oh,
that can be done next summer; we can always get boarders enough, and
those that will pay handsomely. Give the man a mortgage of the house,
to keep him quiet till next summer.' 'But what will you do with the
children?' 'Sally is a very smart girl; I am sure she will take as
good care of them as if I were at home.'
To make a long story short, the farmer and his wife concluded to go
to Quebec, just to show they had a _right_ to put themselves to
inconvenience, if they pleased. They went; spent all their money; had
a watch stolen from them in the steamboat; were dreadfully sea-sick
off Point Judith; came home tired, and dusty; found the babe sick,
because Sally had stood at the door with it, one chilly, damp morning,
while she was feeding the chickens; and the eldest girl screaming
and screeching at the thoughts of going to bed, because Sally, in
order to bring her under her authority, had told her a frightful
'raw-head-and-bloody-bones' story; the horse had broken into the
garden, and made wretched work with the vegetables; and fifty pounds
of butter had become fit for the grease-pot, because the hoops of the
firkin had sprung, and Sally had so much to do, that she never thought
of going to see whether the butter was covered with brine.
After six or eight weeks, the children were pretty well restored
to orderly habits; and the wife, being really a notable and prudent
woman, resolved to make up for her lost butter and vegetables, by
doing without help through the winter. When summer came, they should
have boarders, she said; and sure enough, they had boarders in plenty;
but not profitable ones. There were forty cousins, at whose houses
they had stopped; and twenty people who had been very polite to them
on the way; and it being such a pleasant season, and _travelling so
cheap_, everyone of these people felt they had _a right_ to take
a journey; and they could not help passing a day or two with their
friends at the farm. One after another came, till the farmer could
bear it no longer. 'I tell you what, wife,' said he, 'I am going to
jail as fast as a man can go. If there is no other way of putting
a stop to this, I'll sell every bed in the house, except the one we
sleep on.'
And sure enough, he actually did this; and when the forty-first cousin
came down on a friendly visit, on account of what her other cousins
had told her about the cheapness of travelling, she was told
they should be very happy to sleep on the floor, for the sake of
accommodating her, for a night or two; but the truth was, they had but
one bed in the house. This honest couple are now busy in paying off
their debts, and laying by something for their old age. He facetiously
tells how he went to New York to have his watch stolen, and his boots
blacked like a looking glass; and she shows her Lake George diamond
ring, and tells how the steamboat was crowded, and how afraid she was
the boiler would burst, and always ends by saying, 'After all, it was
a toil of pleasure.'
However, it is not our farmers, who are in the greatest danger of this
species of extravagance; for we look to that class of people, as the
strongest hold of republican simplicity, industry, and virtue. It is
from adventurers, swindlers, broken down traders,--all that rapidly
increasing class of idlers, too genteel to work, and too proud to
beg,--that we have most reason to dread examples of extravagance. A
very respectable tavern-keeper has lately been driven to establish a
rule, that no customer shall be allowed to rise from the table till
he pays for his meal. 'I know it is rude to give such orders to honest
men,' said he, 'and three years ago I would as soon cut off my hand
as have done it; but now, travelling is so cheap, that all sorts of
characters are on the move; and I find more than half of them will get
away, if they can, without paying a cent.'
With regard to public amusements, it is still worse. Rope-dancers,
and opera-dancers, and all sorts of dancers, go through the country,
making thousands as they go; while, from high to low, there is one
universal, despairing groan of 'hard times,' 'dreadful gloomy times!'
These things ought not to be. People who have little to spend, should
partake sparingly of useless amusements; those who are in debt
should deny themselves entirely. Let me not be supposed to inculcate
exclusive doctrines. I would have every species of enjoyment as open
to the poor as to the rich; but I would have people consider well how
they are likely to obtain the greatest portion of happiness, taking
the whole of their lives into view; I would not have them sacrifice
permanent respectability and comfort to present gentility and love
of excitement; above all, I caution them to beware that this love of
excitement does not grow into a habit, till the fireside becomes a
dull place, and the gambling table and the bar-room finish what the
theatre began.
If men would have women economical, they must be so themselves. What
motive is there for patient industry, and careful economy, when the
savings of a month are spent at one trip to Nahant, and more than the
value of a much desired, but rejected dress, is expended during the
stay of a new set of comedians? We make a great deal of talk about
being republicans; if we are so in reality, we shall stay at home,
to mind our business, and educate our children, so long as one or the
other need our attention, or can suffer by our neglect.
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