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THE
REDSKINS;
OR,
INDIAN AND INJIN:
BEING THE CONCLUSION OF THE
LITTLEPAGE MANUSCRIPTS.
BY THE
AUTHOR OF "THE PATHFINDER," "DEERSLAYER,"
"TWO ADMIRALS," ETC.
In every work regard the writer's end;
None e'er ran compass more than they intend.
POPE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY BURGESS & STRINGER,
1846.
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by
J. FENIMORE COOPER,
in the clerk's office of the District Court for the Northern District
of New York.
STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAN, PHILADELPHIA.
PREFACE.
This book closes the series of the Littlepage Manuscripts, which have
been given to the world, as containing a fair account of the comparative
sacrifices of time, money and labour, made respectively by the landlord
and the tenants, on a New York estate; together with the manner in which
usages and opinions are changing among us; as well as certain of the
reasons of these changes. The discriminating reader will probably be
able to trace in these narratives the progress of those innovations on
the great laws of morals which are becoming so very manifest in
connection with this interest, setting at naught the plainest principles
that God has transmitted to man for the government of his conduct, and
all under the extraordinary pretence of favouring liberty! In this
downward course, our picture embraces some of the proofs of that
looseness of views on the subject of certain species of property which
is, in a degree perhaps, inseparable from the semi-barbarous condition
of a new settlement; the gradation of the squatter, from him who merely
makes his pitch to crop a few fields in passing, to him who carries on
the business by wholesale; and last, though not least in this catalogue
of marauders, the anti-renter.
It would be idle to deny that the great principle which lies at the
bottom of anti-rentism, if principle it can be called, is the
assumption of a claim that the interests and wishes of numbers are to be
respected, though done at a sacrifice of the clearest rights of the few.
That this is not liberty, but tyranny in its worst form, every
right-thinking and right-feeling man must be fully aware. Every one who
knows much of the history of the past, and of the influence of classes,
must understand, that whenever the educated, the affluent and the
practised, choose to unite their means of combination and money to
control the political destiny of a country, they become irresistible;
making the most subservient tools of those very masses who vainly
imagine _they_ are the true guardians of their own liberties. The
well-known election of 1840 is a memorable instance of the power of such
a combination; though that was a combination formed mostly for the mere
purposes of faction, sustained perhaps by the desperate designs of the
insolvents of the country. Such a combination was necessarily wanting in
union among the affluent; it had not the high support of principles to
give it sanctity, and it affords little more than the proof of the power
of money and leisure, when applied in a very doubtful cause, in wielding
the masses of a great nation, to be the instruments of their own
subjection. No well-intentioned American legislator, consequently, ought
ever to lose sight of the fact, that each invasion of the right which he
sanctions is a blow struck against liberty itself, which, in a country
like this, has no auxiliary so certain or so powerful as justice.
The State of New York contains about 43,000 square miles of land; or
something like 27,000,000 of acres. In 1783, its population must have
been about 200,000 souls. With such a proportion between people and
surface it is unnecessary to prove that the husbandman was not quite as
dependent on the landholder, as the landholder was dependent on the
husbandman. This would have been true, had the State been an island; but
we all know it was surrounded by many other communities similarly
situated, and that nothing else was so abundant as land. All notions of
exactions and monopolies, therefore, must be untrue, as applied to those
two interests at that day.
In 1786-7, the State of New York, then in possession of all powers on
the subject, abolished entails, and otherwise brought its law of real
estate in harmony with the institutions. At that time, hundreds, perhaps
thousands, of the leases which have since become so obnoxious, were in
existence. With the attention of the State drawn directly to the main
subject, no one saw anything incompatible with the institutions in them.
_It was felt that the landlords had bought the tenants to occupy their
lands by the liberality of their concessions_, and that the latter were
the obliged parties. Had the landlords of that day endeavoured to lease
for one year, or for ten years, no tenants could have been found for
wild lands; but it became a different thing, when the owner of the soil
agreed to part with it for ever, in consideration of a very low rent,
granting six or eight years free from any charge whatever, and
consenting to receive the product of the soil itself in lieu of money.
Then, indeed, men were not only willing to come into the terms, but
eager; the best evidence of which is the fact, that the same tenants
might have bought land, out and out, in every direction around them,
had they not preferred the easier terms of the leases. Now, that these
same men, or their successors, have become rich enough to care more to
be rid of the encumbrance of the rent than to keep their money, the
rights of the parties certainly are not altered.
In 1789, the Constitution of the United States went into operation; New
York being a party to its creation and conditions. By that Constitution,
the State deliberately deprived itself of the power to touch the
covenants of these leases, without conceding the power to any other
government; unless it might be through a change of the Constitution
itself. As a necessary consequence, these leases, in a legal sense,
belong to the institutions of New York, instead of being opposed to
them. Not only is the spirit of the institutions in harmony with these
leases, but so is the letter also. Men must draw a distinction between
the "spirit of the institutions" and their own "spirits;" the latter
being often nothing more than a stomach that is not easily satisfied. It
would be just as true to affirm that domestic slavery is opposed to the
institutions of the United States, as to say the same of these leases.
It would be just as rational to maintain, because A. does not choose to
make an associate of B., that he is acting in opposition to the "spirit
of the institutions," inasmuch as the Declaration of Independence
advances the dogmas that men are born equal, as it is to say it is
opposed to the same spirit, for B. to pay rent to A. according to his
covenant.
It is pretended that the durable leases are feudal in their nature. We
do not conceive this to be true; but, admitting it to be so, it would
only prove that feudality, to this extent, is a part of the institutions
of the State. What is more, it would become a part over which the State
itself has conceded all power of control, beyond that which it may
remotely possess as one, out of twenty-eight communities. As respects
this feudal feature, it is not easy to say where it must be looked for.
It is not to be found in the simple fact of paying rent, for that is so
general as to render the whole country feudal, could it be true; it
cannot be in the circumstance that the rent is to be paid "in kind," as
it is called, and in labour, for that is an advantage to the tenant, by
affording him the option, since the penalty of a failure leaves the
alternative of paying in money. It must be, therefore, that these leases
are feudal because they run for ever! Now the length of the lease is
clearly a concession to the tenant, and was so regarded when received;
and there is not probably a single tenant, under lives, who would not
gladly exchange his term of possession for that of one of these
detestable durable leases!
Among the absurdities that have been circulated on this subject of
feudality, it has been pretended that the well-known English statute of
"_quia emptores_" has prohibited fines for alienation; or that the
quarter-sales, fifth-sales, sixth-sales, &c. of our own leases were
contrary to the law of the realm, when made. Under the common law, in
certain cases of feudal tenures, the fines for alienation were an
incident of the tenure. The statute of _quia emptores_ abolished that
general principle, but it in no manner forbade parties _to enter into
covenants of the nature of quarter-sales_, did they see fit. The common
law gives all the real estate to the eldest son. Our statute divides the
real estate among the nearest of kin, without regard even to sex. It
might just as well be pretended that the father cannot devise all his
lands to his eldest son, under our statute, as to say that the law of
Edward I. prevents parties from _bargaining_ for quarter-sales. Altering
a provision of the common law does not preclude parties from making
covenants similar to its ancient provisions.
Feudal tenures were originally divided into two great classes; those
which were called the military tenures, or knight's service, and
_soccage_. The first tenure was that which became oppressive in the
progress of society. Soccage was of two kinds; free and villian. The
first has an affinity to our own system, as connected with these leases;
the last never existed among us at all. When the knight's service, or
military tenures of England were converted into free soccage, in the
reign of Charles II., the concession was considered of a character so
favourable to liberty as to be classed among the great measures of the
time; one of which was the _habeas corpus_ act!
The only feature of our own leases, in the least approaching "villian
soccage," is that of the "day's works." But every one acquainted with
the habits of American life, will understand that husbandmen, in
general, throughout the northern States, would regard it as an advantage
to be able to pay their debts in this way; and the law gives them an
option, since a failure to pay "in kind," or "in work," merely incurs
the forfeiture of paying what the particular thing is worth, in money.
In point of fact, money has always been received for these "day's
works," and at a stipulated price.
But, it is pretended, whatever may be the equity of these leasehold
contracts, they are offensive to the tenants, and ought to be abrogated,
for the peace of the State. The State is bound to make all classes of
men respect its laws, and in nothing more so than in the fulfilment of
their legal contracts. The greater the number of the offenders, the
higher the obligation to act with decision and efficiency. To say that
these disorganizers _ought_ not to be put down, is to say that crime is
to obtain impunity by its own extent; and to say that they _cannot_ be
put down "under our form of government," is a direct admission that the
government is unequal to the discharge of one of the plainest and
commonest obligations of all civilized society. If this be really so,
the sooner we get rid of the present form of government the better. The
notion of remedying _such_ an evil by concession, is as puerile as it is
dishonest. The larger the concessions become, the greater will be the
exactions of a cormorant cupidity. As soon as quiet is obtained by these
means, in reference to the leasehold tenures, it will be demanded by
some fresh combination to attain some other end.
When Lee told Washington, at Monmouth, "Sir, your troops will not stand
against British grenadiers," Washington is said to have answered, "Sir,
you have never tried them." The same reply might be given to those
miserable traducers of this republic, who, in order to obtain votes,
affect to think there is not sufficient energy in its government to put
down so bare-faced an attempt as this of the anti-renters to alter the
conditions of their own leases to suit their own convenience. The county
of Delaware has, of itself, nobly given the lie to the assertion, the
honest portion of its inhabitants scattering the knaves to the four
winds, the moment there was a fair occasion made for them to act. A
single, energetic proclamation from Albany, calling a "spade a spade,"
and not affecting to gloss over the disguised robbery of these
anti-renters, and laying just principles fairly before the public mind,
would of itself have crushed the evil in its germ. The people of New
York, in their general capacity, are not the knaves their servants
evidently suppose.
The assembly of New York, in its memorable session of 1846, has taxed
the rents on long leases; thus, not only taxing the same property twice,
but imposing the worst sort of income-tax, or one aimed at a few
individuals. It has "thimble-rigged" in its legislation, as Mr. Hugh
Littlepage not unaptly terms it; endeavouring to do that indirectly,
which the Constitution will not permit it to do directly. In other
words, as it can pass no direct law "impairing the obligation of
contracts," while it _can_ regulate descents, it has enacted, so far as
one body of the legislature has power to enact anything, that on the
_death_ of a landlord the tenant may convert his lease into a mortgage,
on discharging which he shall hold his land in fee!
We deem the first of these measures far more tyrannical than the attempt
of Great Britain to tax her colonies, which brought about the
revolution. It is of the same general character, that of unjust
taxation; while it is attended by circumstances of aggravation that
were altogether wanting in the policy of the mother country. This is not
a tax for revenue, which is not needed; but a tax to "choke off" the
landlords, to use a common American phrase. It is clearly taxing
_nothing_, or it is taxing the same property twice. It is done to
conciliate three or four thousand voters, who are now in the market, at
the expense of three or four hundred who, it is known, are not to be
bought. It is unjust in its motives, its means and its end. The measure
is discreditable to civilization, and an outrage on liberty.
But, the other law mentioned is an atrocity so grave, as to alarm every
man of common principle in the State, were it not so feeble in its
devices to cheat the Constitution, as to excite contempt. This
extraordinary power is exercised because the legislature _can_ control
the law of descents, though it cannot "impair the obligation of
contracts!" Had the law said at once that on the death of a landlord
each of his tenants should _own_ his farm in fee, the ensemble of the
fraud would have been preserved, since the "law of descents" would have
been so far regulated as to substitute one heir for another; but
changing the _nature_ of a contract, with a party who has nothing to do
with the succession at all, is not so very clearly altering, or
amending, the law of descents! It is scarcely necessary to say that
every reputable court in the country, whether State or Federal, would
brand such a law with the disgrace it merits.
But the worst feature of this law, or attempted law, remains to be
noticed. It would have been a premium on murder. Murder _has_ already
been committed by these anti-renters, and that obviously to effect
their ends; and they were to be told that whenever you shoot a landlord,
as some have already often shot _at_ them, you can convert your
leasehold tenures into tenures in fee! The mode of valuation is so
obvious, too, as to deserve a remark. A master was to settle the
valuation on testimony. The witnesses of course would be "the
neighbours," and a whole patent could swear for each other!
As democrats we protest most solemnly against such bare-faced frauds,
such palpable cupidity and covetousness being termed anything but what
they are. If they come of any party at all, it is the party of the
devil. Democracy is a lofty and noble sentiment. It does not rob the
poor to make the rich richer, nor the rich to favour the poor. It is
just, and treats all men alike. It does not "impair the obligations of
contracts." It is not the friend of a canting legislation, but, meaning
right, dare act directly. There is no greater delusion than to suppose
that true democracy has anything in common with injustice or roguery.
Nor is it an apology for anti-rentism, in any of its aspects, to say
that leasehold tenures are inexpedient. The most expedient thing in
existence is to do right. Were there no other objection to this
anti-rent movement than its corrupting influence, that alone should set
every wise man in the community firmly against it. We have seen too much
of this earth, to be so easily convinced that there is any disadvantage,
nay that there is not a positive advantage in the existence of large
leasehold estates, when they carry with them no political power, as is
the fact here. The common-place argument against them, that they defeat
the civilization of a country, is not sustained by fact. The most
civilized countries on earth are under this system; and this system,
too, not entirely free from grave objections which do not exist among
ourselves. That a poorer class of citizens have originally leased than
have purchased lands in New York, is probably true; and it is equally
probable that the effects of this poverty, and even of the tenure in the
infancy of a country, are to be traced on the estates. But this is
taking a very one-sided view of the matter. The men who became tenants
in moderate but comfortable circumstances, would have been mostly
labourers on the farms of others, but for these leasehold tenures. That
is the benefit of the system in a new country, and the ultra friend of
humanity, who decries the condition of a tenant, should remember that if
he had not been in this very condition, he might have been in a worse.
It is, indeed, one of the proofs of the insincerity of those who are
decrying leases, on account of their aristocratic tendencies, that their
destruction will necessarily condemn a numerous class of agriculturists,
either to fall back into the ranks of the peasant or day-labourer, or to
migrate, as is the case with so many of the same class in New England.
In point of fact, the relation of landlord and tenant is one entirely
natural and salutary, in a wealthy community, and one that is so much in
accordance with the necessities of men, that no legislation can long
prevent it. A state of things which will not encourage the rich to hold
real estate would not be desirable, since it would be diverting their
money, knowledge, liberality, feelings and leisure, from the
improvement of the soil, to objects neither so useful nor so
praiseworthy.
The notion that every husbandman is to be a freeholder, is as Utopian in
practice, as it would be to expect that all men were to be on the same
level in fortune, condition, education and habits. As such a state of
things as the last never yet did exist, it was probably never designed
by divine wisdom that it should exist. The whole structure of society
must be changed, even in this country, ere it could exist among
ourselves, and the change would not have been made a month before the
utter impracticability of such a social fusion would make itself felt by
all.
We have elsewhere imputed much of the anti-rent feeling to provincial
education and habits. This term has given the deepest offence to those
who were most obnoxious to the charge. Nevertheless, our opinion is
unchanged. We know that the distance between the cataract of Niagara and
the Massachusetts line is a large hundred leagues, and that it is as
great between Sandy Hook and the 45th parallel of latitude. Many
excellent things, moral and physical, are to be found within these
limits, beyond a question; but we happen to know by an experience that
has extended to other quarters of the world, for a term now exceeding
forty years, that more are to be found beyond them. If "honourable
gentlemen" at Albany fancy the reverse, they must still permit us to
believe they are too much under the influence of provincial notions.
THE REDSKINS.
CHAPTER I.
"Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said--Thou wert my daughter; and thy father
Was duke of Milan; and his only heir
A princess;--no worse issued."
_Tempest._
My uncle Ro and myself had been travelling together in the East, and had
been absent from home fully five years, when we reached Paris. For
eighteen months neither of us had seen a line from America, when we
drove through the barriers, on our way from Egypt, via Algiers,
Marseilles, and Lyons. Not once, in all that time, had we crossed our
own track, in a way to enable us to pick up a straggling letter; and all
our previous precautions to have the epistles meet us at different
bankers in Italy, Turkey, and Malta, were thrown away.
My uncle was an old traveller--I might almost say, an old resident--in
Europe; for he had passed no less than twenty years of his fifty-nine
off the American continent. A bachelor, with nothing to do but to take
care of a very ample estate, which was rapidly increasing in value by
the enormous growth of the town of New York, and with tastes early
formed by travelling, it was natural he should seek those regions where
he most enjoyed himself. Hugh Roger Littlepage was born in 1786--the
second son of my grandfather, Mordaunt Littlepage, and of Ursula
Malbone, his wife. My own father, Malbone Littlepage, was the eldest
child of that connexion; and he would have inherited the property of
Ravensnest, in virtue of his birthright, had he survived his own
parents; but, dying young, I stepped into what would otherwise have been
his succession, in my eighteenth year. My uncle Ro, however, had got
both Satanstoe and Lilacsbush; two country-houses and farms, which,
while they did not aspire to the dignity of being estates, were likely
to prove more valuable, in the long run, than the broad acres which were
intended for the patrimony of the elder brother. My grandfather was
affluent; for not only had the fortune of the Littlepages centred in
him, but so did that of the Mordaunts, the wealthier family of the two,
together with some exceedingly liberal bequests from a certain Col.
Dirck Follock, or Van Valkenburgh; who, though only a very distant
connexion, chose to make my great-grandmother's, or Anneke Mordaunt's,
descendants his heirs. We all had enough; my aunts having handsome
legacies, in the way of bonds and mortgages, on an estate called
Mooseridge, in addition to some lots in town; while my own sister,
Martha, had a clear fifty thousand dollars in money. I had town-lots,
also, which were becoming productive; and a special minority of seven
years had made an accumulation of cash that was well vested in New York
State stock, and which promised well for the future. I say a "special"
minority; for both my father and grandfather, in placing, the one,
myself and a portion of the property, and the other the remainder of my
estate, under the guardianship and ward of my uncle, had made a
provision that I was not to come into possession until I had completed
my twenty-fifth year.
I left college at twenty; and my uncle Ro, for so Martha and myself
always called him, and so he was always called by some twenty cousins,
the offspring of our three aunts;--but my uncle Ro, when I was done with
college, proposed to finish my education by travelling. As this was only
too agreeable to a young man, away we went, just after the pressure of
the great panic of 1836-7 was over, and our "lots" were in tolerable
security, and our stocks safe. In America it requires almost as much
vigilance to _take care_ of property, as it does industry to acquire it.
Mr. Hugh Roger Littlepage--by the way, I bore the same name, though I
was always called Hugh, while my uncle went by the different
appellations of Roger, Ro, and Hodge, among his familiars, as
circumstances had rendered the associations sentimental, affectionate,
or manly--Mr. Hugh Roger Littlepage, Senior, then, had a system of his
own, in the way of aiding the scales to fall from American eyes, by
means of seeing more clearly than one does, or can, at home, let him
belong where he may, and in clearing the specks of provincialism from
off the diamond of republican water. He had already seen enough to
ascertain that while "our country," as this blessed nation is very apt
on all occasions, appropriate or not, to be called by all who belong to
it, as well as by a good many who do not, could teach a great deal to
the old world, there was a possibility--just a _possibility_, remark, is
my word--that it might also learn a little. With a view, therefore, of
acquiring knowledge seriatim, as it might be, he was for beginning with
the hornbook, and going on regularly up to the belles-lettres and
mathematics. The manner in which this was effected deserves a notice.
Most American travellers land in England, the country farthest advanced
in material civilization; then proceed to Italy, and perhaps to Greece,
leaving Germany, and the less attractive regions of the north, to come
in at the end of the chapter. My uncle's theory was to follow the order
of time, and to begin with the ancients and end with the moderns;
though, in adopting such a rule, he admitted he somewhat lessened the
pleasure of the novice; since an American, fresh from the fresher fields
of the western continent, might very well find delight in memorials of
the past, more especially in England, which pall on his taste, and
appear insignificant, after he has become familiar with the Temple of
Neptune, the Parthenon, or what is left of it, and the Coliseum. I make
no doubt that I lost a great deal of passing happiness in this way, by
beginning at the beginning, or by beginning in Italy, and travelling
north.
Such was our course, however; and, landing at Leghorn, we did the
peninsula effectually in a twelvemonth; thence passed through Spain up
to Paris, and proceeded on to Moscow and the Baltic, reaching England
from Hamburg. When we had got through with the British isles, the
antiquities of which seemed flat and uninteresting to me, after having
seen those that were so much more _antique_, we returned to Paris, in
order that I might become a man of the world, if possible, by rubbing
off the provincial specks that had unavoidably adhered to the American
diamond while in its obscurity.
My uncle Ro was fond of Paris, and he had actually become the owner of a
small hotel in the faubourg, in which he retained a handsome furnished
apartment for his own use. The remainder of the house was let to
permanent tenants; but the whole of the first floor, and of the
_entresol_, remained in his hands. As a special favour, he would allow
some American family to occupy even his own apartment--or rather
_appartement_, for the words are not exactly synonymous--when he
intended to be absent for a term exceeding six months, using the money
thus obtained in keeping the furniture in repair, and his handsome suite
of rooms, including a _salon_, _salle a manger_, _ante-chambre_,
_cabinet_, several _chambres a coucher_, and a _boudoir_--yes, a male
_boudoir_! for so he affected to call it--in a condition to please even
his fastidiousness.
On our arrival from England, we remained an entire season at Paris, all
that time rubbing the specks off the diamond, when my uncle suddenly
took it into his head that we ought to see the East. He had never been
further than Greece, himself; and he now took a fancy to be my companion
in such an excursion. We were gone two years and a half, visiting
Greece, Constantinople, Asia Minor, the Holy Land, Petra, the Red Sea,
Egypt quite to the second cataracts, and nearly the whole of Barbary.
The latter region we threw in, by way of seeing something out of the
common track. But so many hats and travelling-caps are to be met with,
now-a-days, among the turbans, that a well-mannered Christian may get
along almost anywhere without being spit upon. This is a great
inducement for travelling generally, and ought to be so especially to an
American, who, on the whole, incurs rather more risk now of suffering
this humiliation at home, than he would even in Algiers. But the animus
is everything in morals.
We had, then, been absent two years and a half from Paris, and had not
seen a paper or received a letter from America in eighteen months, when
we drove through the barrier. Even the letters and papers received or
seen previously to this last term, were of a private nature, and
contained nothing of a general character. The "twenty millions"--it was
only the other day they were called the "twelve millions"--but, the
"twenty millions," we knew, had been looking up amazingly after the
temporary depression of the moneyed crisis it had gone through; and the
bankers had paid our drafts with confidence, and without extra charges,
during the whole time we had been absent. It is true, Uncle Ro, as an
experienced traveller, went well fortified in the way of credit--a
precaution by no means unnecessary with Americans, after the cry that
had been raised against us in the old world.
And here I wish to say one thing plainly, before I write another line.
As for falling into the narrow, self-adulatory, provincial feeling of
the American who has never left his mother's apron-string, and which
causes him to swallow, open-mouthed, all the nonsense that is uttered to
the world in the columns of newspapers, or in the pages of your yearling
travellers, who go on "excursions" before they are half instructed in
the social usages and the distinctive features of their own country, I
hope I shall be just as far removed from such a weakness, in any passing
remark that may flow from my pen, as from the crime of confounding
principles and denying facts in a way to do discredit to the land of my
birth and that of my ancestors. I have lived long enough in the "world,"
not meaning thereby the south-east corner of the north-west township of
Connecticut, to understand that we are a vast way behind older nations,
in _thought_ as well as deed, in many things; while, on the opposite
hand, they are a vast way behind us in others. I see no patriotism in
concealing a wholesome truth; and least of all shall I be influenced by
the puerility of a desire to hide anything of this nature, because I
cannot communicate it to my countrymen without communicating it to the
rest of the world. If England or France had acted on this narrow
principle, where would have been their Shakspeares, their Sheridans,
their Beaumonts and Fletchers, and their Molieres! No, no! great
national truths are not to be treated as the gossiping surmises of
village crones. He who reads what I _write_, therefore, must expect to
find what I _think_ of matters and things, and not exactly what he may
happen to think on the same subjects. Any one is at liberty to compare
opinions with me; but I ask the privilege of possessing some small
liberty of conscience in what is, far and near, proclaimed to be the
_only_ free country on the earth. By "far and near," I mean from the St.
Croix to the Rio Grande, and from Cape Cod to the entrance of St. Juan
de Fuca; and a pretty farm it makes, the "interval" that lies between
these limits! One may call it "far and near" without the imputation of
obscurity, or that of vanity.
Our tour was completed, in spite of all annoyances; and here we were
again, within the walls of magnificent Paris! The postilions had been
told to drive to the hotel, in the rue St. Dominique; and we sat down to
dinner, an hour after our arrival, under our own roof. My uncle's tenant
had left the apartment a month before, according to agreement; and the
porter and his wife had engaged a cook, set the rooms in order, and
prepared everything for our arrival.
"It must be owned, Hugh," said my uncle, as he finished his soup that
day, "one _may_ live quite comfortably in Paris, if he possess the
_savoir vivre_. Nevertheless, I have a strong desire to get a taste of
native air. One may say and think what he pleases about the Paris
pleasures, and the Paris _cuisine_, and all that sort of things; but
"home is home, be it ever so homely." A 'd'Inde aux truffes' is capital
eating; so is a turkey with cranberry sauce. I sometimes think I could
fancy even a pumpkin pie, though there is not a fragment of the rock of
Plymouth in the granite of my frame."
"I have always told you, sir, that America is a capital eating and
drinking country, let it want civilization in other matters, as much as
it may."
"Capital for eating and drinking, Hugh, if you can keep clear of the
grease, in the first place, and find a real cook, in the second. There
is as much difference between the cookery of New England, for instance,
and that of the Middle States, barring the Dutch, as there is between
that of England and Germany. The cookery of the Middle States, and of
the Southern States, too, though that savours a little of the West
Indies--but the cookery of the Middle States is English, in its best
sense; meaning the hearty, substantial, savoury dishes of the English in
their true domestic life, with their roast-beef underdone, their
beefsteaks done to a turn, their chops full of gravy, their
mutton-broth, legs-of-mutton, _et id omne genus_. We have some capital
things of our own, too; such as canvass-backs, reedbirds, sheepshead,
shad, and blackfish. The difference between New England and the Middle
States is still quite observable, though in my younger days it was
_patent_. I suppose the cause has been the more provincial origin, and
the more provincial habits, of our neighbours. By George! Hugh, one
could fancy clam-soup just now, eh!"
"Clam-soup, sir, well made, is one of the most delicious soups in the
world. If the cooks of Paris could get hold of the dish, it would set
them up for a whole season."
"What is 'creme de Baviere,' and all such nick-nacks, boy, to a good
plateful of clam-soup? Well made, as you say--made as a cook of Jennings
used to make it, thirty years since. Did I ever mention that fellow's
soup to you before, Hugh?"
"Often, sir. I have tasted very excellent clam-soup, however, that he
never saw. Of course you mean soup just flavoured by the little
hard-clam--none of your vulgar _potage_ a la soft-clam?"
"Soft-clams be hanged! they are not made for gentlemen to eat. Of course
I mean the hard-clam, and the small clam, too--
Here's your fine clams,
As white as snow;
On Rockaway
These clams do grow.
The cries of New York are quite going out, like everything else at home
that is twenty years old. Shall I send you some of this eternal _poulet
a la Marengo?_ I wish it were honest American boiled fowl, with a
delicate bit of shoat-pork alongside of it. I feel amazingly _homeish_
this evening, Hugh!"
"It is quite natural, my dear uncle Ro; and I own to the 'soft
impeachment' myself. Here have we both been absent from our native land
five years, and half that time almost without hearing from it. We know
that Jacob"--this was a free negro who served my uncle, a relic of the
old domestic system of the colonies, whose name would have been Jaaf, or
Yop, thirty years before--"has gone to our banker's for letters and
papers; and that naturally draws our thoughts to the other side of the
Atlantic. I dare say we shall both feel relieved at breakfast to-morrow,
when we shall have read our respective despatches."
"Come, let us take a glass of wine together, in the good old York
fashion, Hugh. Your father and I, when boys, never thought of wetting
our lips with the half-glass of Madeira that fell to our share, without
saying, 'Good health, Mall!' 'Good health, Hodge!'"
"With all my heart, uncle Ro. The custom was getting to be a little
obsolete even before I left home; but it is almost an American custom,
by sticking to us longer than to most people."
"Henri!"
This was my uncle's maitre d'hotel, whom he had kept at board-wages the
whole time of our absence, in order to make sure of his ease, quiet,
taste, skill, and honesty, on his return.
"Monsieur!"
"I dare say"--my uncle spoke French exceedingly well for a foreigner;
but it is better to translate what he said as we go--"I dare say this
glass of vin de Bourgogne is very good; it _looks_ good, and it came
from a wine-merchant on whom I can rely; but Mons. Hugh and I are going
to drink together, a l'Americaine, and I dare say you will let us have a
glass of Madeira, though it is somewhat late in the dinner to take it."
"Tres volontiers, Messieurs--it is my happiness to oblige you."
Uncle Ro and I took the Madeira together; but I cannot say much in
favour of its quality.
"What a capital thing is a good Newtown pippin!" exclaimed my uncle,
after eating a while in silence. "They talk a great deal about their
_poire beurree_, here at Paris; but, to my fancy, it will not compare
with the Newtowners we grow at Satanstoe, where, by the way, the fruit
is rather better, I think, than that one finds across the river, at
Newtown itself."
"They are capital apples, sir; and your orchard at Satanstoe is one of
the best I know, or rather what is left of it; for I believe a portion
of your trees are in what is now a suburb of Dibbletonborough?"
"Yes, blast that place! I wish I had never parted with a foot of the old
neck, though I did rather make money by the sale. But money is no
compensation for the affections."
"_Rather_ make money, my dear sir! Pray, may I ask what Satanstoe was
valued at, when you got it from my grandfather?"
"Pretty well up, Hugh; for it was, and indeed _is_, a first-rate farm.
Including sedges and salt-meadows, you will remember that there are
quite five hundred acres of it, altogether."
"Which you inherited in 1829?"
"Of course; that was the year of my father's death. Why, the place was
thought to be worth about thirty thousand dollars at that time; but land
was rather low in Westchester in 1829."
"And you sold two hundred acres, including the point, the harbour, and a
good deal of the sedges, for the moderate modicum of one hundred and ten
thousand, cash. A tolerable sale, sir!"
"No, not cash. I got only eighty thousand down, while thirty thousand
were secured by mortgage."
"Which mortgage you hold yet, I dare say, if the truth were told,
covering the whole city of Dibbletonborough. A city ought to be good
security for thirty thousand dollars?"
"It is not, nevertheless, in this case. The speculators who bought of me
in 1835 laid out their town, built a hotel, a wharf, and a warehouse,
and then had an auction. They sold four hundred lots, each twenty-five
feet by a hundred, regulation size, you see, at an average of two
hundred and fifty dollars, receiving one-half, or fifty thousand
dollars, down, and leaving the balance on mortgage. Soon after this, the
bubble burst, and the best lot at Dibbletonborough would not bring,
under the hammer, twenty dollars. The hotel and the warehouse stand
alone in their glory, and will thus stand until they fall, which will
not be a thousand years hence, I rather think."
"And what is the condition of the town-plot?"
"Bad enough. The landmarks are disappearing; and it would cost any man
who should attempt it, the value of his lot, to hire a surveyor to find
his twenty-five by a hundred."
"But your mortgage is good?"
"Ay, good in one sense; but it would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer to
foreclose it. Why, the equitable interests in that town-plot, people the
place of themselves. I ordered my agent to commence buying up the
rights, as the shortest process of getting rid of them; and he told me
in the very last letter I received, that he had succeeded in purchasing
the titles to three hundred and seventeen of the lots, at an average
price of ten dollars. The remainder, I suppose, will have to be
absorbed."
"Absorbed! That is a process I never heard of, as applied to land."
"There is a good deal of it done, notwithstanding, in America. It is
merely including within your own possession, adjacent land for which no
claimant appears. What can I do? No owners are to be found; and then my
mortgage is always a title. A possession of twenty years under a
mortgage is as good as a deed in fee-simple, with full covenants of
warranty, barring minors and _femmes covert_."
"You did better by Lilacsbush?"
"Ah, _that_ was a clean transaction, and has left no drawbacks.
Lilacsbush being on the island of Manhattan, one is sure there will be a
town there, some day or other. It is true, the property lies quite eight
miles from the City Hall; nevertheless, it has a value, and can always
be sold at something near it. Then the plan of New York is made and
recorded, and one can find his lots. Nor can any man say when the town
will not reach Kingsbridge."
"You got a round price for the Bush, too, I have heard, sir?"
"I got three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, in hard cash. I
would give no credit, and have every dollar of the money, at this
moment, in good six per cent. stock of the States of New York and Ohio."
"Which some persons in this part of the world would fancy to be no very
secure investment."
"More fools they. America is a glorious country, after all, Hugh; and it
is a pride and a satisfaction to belong to it. Look back at it, as I
can remember it, a nation spit upon by all the rest of Christendom----"
"You must at least own, my dear sir," I put in, somewhat pertly,
perhaps, "the example might tempt other people; for, if ever there was a
nation that is assiduously spitting on itself, it is our own beloved
land."
"True, it has that nasty custom in excess, and it grows worse instead of
better, as the influence of the better mannered and better educated
diminishes; but this is a spot on the sun--a mere flaw in the diamond,
that friction will take out. But what a country--what a glorious
country, in truth, it is! You have now done the civilized parts of the
old world pretty thoroughly, my dear boy, and must be persuaded,
yourself, of the superiority of your native land."
"I remember you have always used this language, uncle Ro; yet have you
passed nearly one-half of your time _out_ of that glorious country,
since you have reached man's estate."
"The mere consequence of accidents and tastes. I do not mean that
America is a country for a bachelor, to begin with; the means of
amusement for those who have no domestic hearths, are too limited for
the bachelor. Nor do I mean that society in America, in its ordinary
meaning, is in any way as well-ordered, as tasteful, as well-mannered,
as agreeable, or as instructive and useful, as society in almost any
European country I know. I have never supposed that the man of leisure,
apart from the affections, could ever enjoy himself half as much at
home, as he may enjoy himself in this part of the world; and I am
willing to admit that, intellectually, most gentlemen in a great
European capital live as much in one day, as they would live in a week
in such places as New York, and Philadelphia, and Baltimore."
"You do not include Boston, I perceive, sir."
"Of Boston I say nothing. They take the mind hard, there, and we had
better let such a state of things alone. But as respects a man or woman
of leisure, a man or woman of taste, a man or woman of refinement
generally, I am willing enough to admit that, _caeteris paribus_, each
can find far more enjoyment in Europe than in America. But the
philosopher, the philanthropist, the political economist--in a word,
the patriot, may well exult in such elements of profound national
superiority as may be found in America."
"I hope these elements are not so profound but they can be dug up at
need, uncle Ro?"
"There will be little difficulty in doing that, my boy. Look at the
equality of the laws, to begin with. They are made on the principles of
natural justice, and are intended for the benefit of society--for the
poor as well as the rich."
"Are they also intended for the rich as well as the poor?"
"Well, I will grant you a slight blemish is beginning to appear, in that
particular. It is a failing incidental to humanity, and we must not
expect perfection. There is certainly a slight disposition to legislate
for numbers, in order to obtain support at the polls, which has made the
relation of debtor and creditor a little insecure, possibly; but
prudence can easily get along with that. It is erring on the right side,
is it not, to favour the poor instead of the rich, if either is to be
preferred?"
"Justice would favour neither, but treat all alike. I have always heard
that the tyranny of numbers was the worst tyranny in the world."
"Perhaps it is, where there is actually tyranny, and for a very obvious
reason. One tyrant is sooner satisfied than a million, and has even a
greater sense of responsibility. I can easily conceive that the Czar
himself, if disposed to be a tyrant, which I am far from thinking to be
the case with Nicholas, might hesitate about doing that, under his
undivided responsibility, which one of our majorities would do, without
even being conscious of the oppression it exercised, or caring at all
about it. But, on the whole, we do little of the last, and not in the
least enough to counterbalance the immense advantages of the system."
"I have heard very discreet men say that the worst symptom of our system
is the gradual decay of justice among us. The judges have lost most of
their influence, and the jurors are getting to be law-makers, as well as
law-breakers."
"There is a good deal of truth in that, I will acknowledge, also; and
you hear it asked constantly, in a case of any interest, not which party
is in the right, but _who_ is on the jury. But I contend for no
perfection; all I say is, that the country is a glorious country, and
that you and I have every reason to be proud that old Hugh Roger, our
predecessor and namesake, saw fit to transplant himself into it, a
century and a half since."
"I dare say now, uncle Ro, it would strike most Europeans as singular that
a man should be proud of having been born an American--Manhattanese, as
you and I both were."
"All that may be true, for there have been calculated attempts to bring
us into discredit of late, by harping on the failure of certain States
to pay the interest on their debts. But all that is easily answered, and
more so by you and me as New Yorkers. There is not a nation in Europe
that would pay its interest, if those who are taxed to do so had the
control of these taxes, and the power to say whether they were to be
levied or not."
"I do not see how that mends the matter. These countries tell us that
such is the effect of your _system_ there, while we are too honest to
allow such a system to _exist_ in this part of the world."
"Pooh! all gammon, that. They prevent the existence of our system for
very different reasons, and they coerce the payment of the interest on
their debts that they may borrow more. This business of repudiation, as
it is called, however, has been miserably misrepresented; and there is
no answering a falsehood by an argument. No American State has
repudiated its debt, that I know of, though several have been unable to
meet their engagements as they have fallen due."
"_Unable_, uncle Ro?"
"Yes, _unable_--that is the precise word. Take Pennsylvania, for
instance; that is one of the richest communities in the civilized world;
its coal and iron alone would make any country affluent, and a portion
of its agricultural population is one of the most affluent I know of.
Nevertheless, Pennsylvania, owing to a concurrence of events, _could_
not pay the interest on her debt for two years and a half, though she is
doing it now, and will doubtless continue to do it. The sudden breaking
down of that colossal moneyed institution, the _soi-disant_ Bank of the
United States, after it ceased to be in reality a bank of the
government, brought about such a state of the circulation as rendered
payment, by any of the ordinary means known to government, _impossible_.
I know what I say, and repeat _impossible_. It is well known that many
persons, accustomed to affluence, had to carry their plate to the mint,
in order to obtain money to go to market. Then something may be
attributed to the institutions, without disparaging a people's honesty.
Our institutions are popular, just as those of France are the reverse;
and the people, they who were on the spot--the home creditor, with his
account unpaid, and with his friends and relatives in the legislature,
and present to aid him, contended for his own money, before any should
be sent abroad."
"Was that exactly right, sir?"
"Certainly not; it was exactly wrong, but very particularly natural. Do
you suppose the King of France would not take the money for his civil
list, if circumstances should compel the country to suspend on the debt
for a year or two, or the ministers their salaries? My word for it, each
and all of them would prefer themselves as creditors, and act
accordingly. Every one of these countries has suspended in some form or
other, and in many instances balanced the account with the sponge. Their
clamour against us is altogether calculated with a view to political
effect."
"Still, I wish Pennsylvania, for instance, had continued to pay, at
every hazard."
"It is well enough to wish, Hugh; but it is wishing for an
impossibility. Then you and I, as New Yorkers, have nothing to do with
the debt of Pennsylvania, no more than London would have to do with the
debt of Dublin or Quebec. _We_ have always paid _our_ interest, and,
what is more, paid it more honestly, if honesty be the point, than even
England has paid hers. When _our_ banks suspended, the State paid its
interest in as much paper as would buy the specie in open market;
whereas England made paper legal tender, and paid the interest on her
debt in it for something like five-and-twenty years, and, that, too,
when her paper was at a large discount. I knew of one American who held
near a million of dollars in the English debt, on which he had to take
unconvertible paper for the interest for a long series of years. No, no!
this is all gammon, Hugh, and is not to be regarded as making us a whit
worse than our neighbours. The equality of our laws is the fact in
which I glory!"
"If the rich stood as fair a chance as the poor, uncle Ro."
"There _is_ a screw loose there, I must confess; but it amounts to no
great matter."
"Then the late bankrupt law?"
"Ay, that was an infernal procedure--that much I will acknowledge, too.
It was special legislation enacted to pay particular debts, and the law
was repealed as soon as it had done its duty. That is a much darker spot
in our history than what is called repudiation, though perfectly honest
men voted for it."
"Did you ever hear of a farce they got up about it at New York, just
after we sailed?"
"Never; what was it, Hugh? though American plays are pretty much all
farces."
"This was a little better than common, and, on the whole, really clever.
It is the old story of Faust, in which a young spendthrift sells
himself, soul and body, to the devil. On a certain evening, as he is
making merry with a set of wild companions, his creditor arrives, and,
insisting on seeing the master, is admitted by the servant. He comes on,
club-footed and behorned, as usual, and betailed, too, I believe; but
Tom is not to be scared by trifles. He insists on his guest's being
seated, on his taking a glass of wine, and then on Dick's finishing his
song. But, though the rest of the company had signed no bonds to Satan,
they had certain outstanding book-debts, which made them excessively
uncomfortable; and the odour of brimstone being rather strong, Tom
arose, approached his guest, and desired to know the nature of the
particular business he had mentioned to his servant. 'This bond, sir,'
said Satan, significantly. 'This bond? what of it, pray? It seems all
right.' 'Is not that your signature?' 'I admit it.' 'Signed in your
blood?' 'A conceit of your own; I told you at the time that ink was just
as good in law.' 'It is past due, seven minutes and fourteen seconds.'
'So it is, I declare! but what of that?' 'I demand payment.' 'Nonsense!
no one thinks of paying now-a-days. Why, even Pennsylvania and Maryland
don't pay.' 'I insist on payment.' 'Oh! you do, do you?' Tom draws a
paper from his pocket, and adds, magnificently, 'There, then, if you're
so urgent--there is a discharge under the new bankrupt law, signed Smith
Thompson.' This knocked the devil into a cocked-hat at once."
My uncle laughed heartily at my story; but, instead of taking the matter
as I had fancied he might, it made him think better of the country than
ever.
"Well, Hugh, we have wit among us, it must be confessed," he cried, with
the tears running down his cheeks, "if we have some rascally laws, and
some rascals to administer them. But here comes Jacob with his letters
and papers--I declare, the fellow has a large basket-full."
Jacob, a highly respectable black, and the great-grandson of an old
negro named Jaaf, or Yop, who was then living on my own estate at
Ravensnest, had just then entered, with the porter and himself lugging
in the basket in question. There were several hundred newspapers, and
quite a hundred letters. The sight brought home and America clearly and
vividly before us; and, having nearly finished the dessert, we rose to
look at the packages. It was no small task to sort our mail, there being
so many letters and packages to be divided.
"Here are some newspapers I never saw before," said my uncle, as he
tumbled over the pile; "'The Guardian of the Soil'--that must have
something to do with Oregon."
"I dare say it has, sir. Here are at least a dozen letters from my
sister."
"Ay, _your_ sister is single, and can still think of her brother; but
mine are married, and one letter a-year would be a great deal. This is
my dear old mother's hand, however; that is something. Ursula Malbone
would never forget her child. Well, _bon soir_, Hugh. Each of us has
enough to do for one evening."
"_Au revoir_, sir. We shall meet at ten to-morrow, when we can compare
our news, and exchange gossip."