“St. Patrick’s day” in New York--Public dinner--American
Constitution--General topics of conversation--Public estimate
of the Government--Evening party at Mons. B----’s.
_Monday, 18th._--“St. Patrick’s day in the morning” being on the
17th, was kept by the Irish to-day. In the early morning the sounds
of drumming, fifing, and bugling came with the hot water and my
Irish attendant into the room. He told me: “We’ll have a pretty
nice day for it. The weather’s often agin us on St. Patrick’s day.”
At the angle of the square outside I saw a company of volunteers
assembling. They wore bear-skin caps, some turned brown, and rusty
green coatees, with white facings and cross-belts, a good deal
of gold-lace and heavy worsted epaulettes, and were armed with
ordinary muskets, some of them with flintlocks. Over their heads
floated a green and gold flag with mystic emblems, and a harp and
sunbeams. A gentleman, with an imperfect seat on horseback, which
justified a suspicion that he was not to the manner born of Squire
or Squireen, with much difficulty was getting them into line, and
endangering his personal safety by a large infantry-sword, the hilt
of which was complicated with the bridle of his charger in some
inexplicable manner. This gentleman was the officer in command of
the martial body, who were gathering to do honour to the festival
of the old country, and the din and clamour in the streets, the
strains of music, and the tramp of feet outside announced that
similar associations were on their way to the rendezvous. The
waiters in the hotel, all of whom were Irish, had on their best,
and wore an air of pleased importance. Many of their countrymen
outside on the pavement exhibited very large decorations, plates of
metal, and badges attached to broad ribands over their left breasts.
After breakfast I struggled with a friend through the crowd which
thronged Union Square. Bless them! They were all Irish, judging
from speech, and gesture, and look; for the most part decently
dressed, and comfortable, evidently bent on enjoying the day in
spite of the cold, and proud of the privilege of interrupting
all the trade of the principal streets, in which the Yankees
most do congregate, for the day. They were on the door-steps,
and on the pavement men, women, and children, admiring the big
policemen--many of them compatriots--and they swarmed at the
corners, cheering popular town-councillors or local celebrities.
Broadway was equally full. Flags were flying from the windows and
steeples--and on the cold breeze came the hammering of drums, and
the blasts of many wind instruments. The display, such as it was,
partook of a military character, though not much more formidable in
that sense than the march of the Trades Unions, or of Temperance
Societies. Imagine Broadway lined for the long miles of its course
by spectators mostly Hibernian, and the great gaudy stars and
stripes, or as one of the Secession journals I see styles it, the
“Sanguinary United States Gridiron”--waving in all directions,
whilst up its centre in the mud march the children of Erin.
First came the acting Brigadier-General and his staff, escorted
by 40 lancers, very ill-dressed, and worse mounted; horses dirty,
accoutrements in the same condition, bits, bridles, and buttons
rusty and tarnished; uniforms ill-fitting, and badly put on. But
the red flags and the show pleased the crowd, and they cheered
“bould Nugent” right loudly. A band followed, some members of which
had been evidently “smiling” with each other; and next marched a
body of drummers in military uniform, rattling away in the French
fashion. Here comes the 69th N. Y. State Militia Regiment--the
battalion which would not turn out when the Prince of Wales was in
New York, and whose Colonel, Corcoran, is still under court martial
for his refusal. Well, the Prince had no loss, and the Colonel may
have had other besides political reasons for his dislike to parade
his men.
The regiment turned out, I should think, only 200 or 220 men, fine
fellows enough, but not in the least like soldiers or militia.
The United States uniform which most of the military bodies wore,
consists of a blue tunic and trousers, and a kepi-like cap, with
“U. S.” in front for undress. In full dress the officers wear large
gold epaulettes, and officers and men a bandit-sort of felt hat
looped up at one side, and decorated with a plume of black-ostrich
feathers and silk cords. The absence of facings, and the want of
something to finish off the collar and cuffs, render the tunic
very bald and unsightly. Another band closed the rear of the 69th,
and to eke out the military show, which in all was less than 1,200
men, some companies were borrowed from another regiment of State
Militia, and a troop of very poor cavalry cleared the way for the
Napper-Tandy Artillery, which actually had three whole guns with
them! It was strange to dwell on some of the names of the societies
which followed. For instance, there were the “Dungannon Volunteers
of ’82,” prepared of course to vindicate the famous declaration
that none should make laws for Ireland, but the Queen, Lords, and
Commons of Ireland! Every honest Catholic among them ignorant of
the fact that the Volunteers of ’82 were all Protestants. Then
there was the “Sarsfield Guard!” One cannot conceive anything more
hateful to the fiery high-spirited cavalier, than the republican
form of Government, which these poor Irishmen are, they think, so
fond of. A good deal of what passes for national sentiment, is in
reality dislike to England and religious animosity.
It was much more interesting to see the long string of Benevolent,
Friendly and Provident Societies, with bands, numbering many
thousands, all decently clad, and marching in order with banners,
insignia, badges and ribands, and the Irish flag flying alongside
the “stars and stripes.” I cannot congratulate them on the taste or
good effect of their accessories--on their symbolical standards,
and ridiculous old harpers, carried on stages in “bardic costume,”
very like artificial white wigs and white cotton dressing-gowns,
but the actual good done by these societies, is, I am told,
very great, and their charity would cover far greater sins than
incorrectness of dress, and a proneness to “piper’s playing on
the national bagpipes.” The various societies mustered upwards of
10,000 men, some of them uniformed and armed, others dressed in
quaint garments, and all as noisy as music and talking could make
them. The Americans appeared to regard the whole thing very much as
an ancient Roman might have looked on the Saturnalia; but Paddy was
in the ascendant, and could not be openly trifled with.
The crowds remained in the streets long after the procession
had passed, and I saw various pickpockets captured by the big
policemen, and conveyed to appropriate receptacles. “Was there any
man of eminence in that procession,” I asked. “No; a few small
local politicians, some wealthy store-keepers, and beer-saloon
owners perhaps; but the mass were of the small bourgeoisie. Such a
man as Mr. O’Conor, who may be considered at the head of the New
York bar for instance, would not take part in it.”
In the evening I went, according to invitation, to the Astor
House--a large hotel, with a front like a railway terminus, in the
Americo-Classical style, with great Doric columns and portico, and
found, to my surprise, that the friendly party was to be a great
public dinner. The halls were filled with the company, few or none
in evening dress; and in a few minutes I was presented to at least
twenty-four gentlemen, whose names I did not even hear. The use of
badges, medals, and ribands, might, at first, lead a stranger to
believe he was in very distinguished military society; but he would
soon learn that these insignia were the decorations of benevolent
or convivial associations. There is a latent taste for these
things in spite of pure republicanism. At the dinner there were
Americans of Dutch and English descent, some “Yankees,” one or two
Englishmen, Scotchmen, and Welshmen. The chairman, Judge Daly, was
indeed a true son of the soil, and his speeches were full of good
humour, fluency, and wit; but his greatest effect was produced by
the exhibition of a tuft of shamrocks in a flower pot, which had
been sent from Ireland for the occasion. This is done annually,
but, like the miracle of St. Januarius, it never loses its effect,
and always touches the heart.
I confess it was to some extent curiosity to observe the sentiment
of the meeting, and a desire to see how Irishmen were affected
by the change in their climate, which led me to the room. I came
away regretting deeply that so many natives of the British Isles
should be animated with a hostile feeling towards England, and
that no statesman has yet arisen who can devise a panacea for the
evils of these passionate and unmeaning differences between races
and religions. Their strong antipathy is not diminished by the
impossibility of gratifying it. They live in hope, and certainly
the existence of these feelings is not only troublesome to American
statesmen, but mischievous to the Irish themselves, inasmuch as
they are rendered with unusual readiness the victims of agitators
or political intriguers. The Irish element, as it is called, is
much regarded in voting times, by suffraging bishops and others; at
other times, it is left to its work and its toil--Mr. Seward and
Bishop Hughes are supposed to be its present masters. Undoubtedly
the mass of those I saw to-day were better clad than they would
have been if they remained at home. As I said in the speech which I
was forced to make much against my will, by the gentle violence of
my companions, never had I seen so many good hats and coats in an
assemblage of Irishmen in any other part of the world.
_March 19._ The morning newspapers contain reports of last night’s
speeches which are amusing in one respect, at all events, as
affording specimens of the different versions which may be given
of the same matter. A “citizen” who was kind enough to come in
to shave me, paid me some easy compliments, in the manner of the
“Barber of Seville,” on what he termed the “oration” of the night
before, and then proceeded to give his notions of the merits
and defects of the American Constitution. “He did not care much
about the Franchise--it was given to too many he thought. A man
must be five years resident in New York before he is admitted to
the privileges of voting. When an emigrant arrived, a paper was
delivered to him to certify the fact, which he produced after a
lapse of five years, when he might be registered as a voter; if
he omitted the process of registration, he could however vote
if identified by two householders, and a low lot,” observed the
barber, “they are--Irish and such like. I don’t want any of their
votes.”
In the afternoon a number of gentlemen called, and made the
kindest offers of service; letters of introduction to all parts
of the States; facilities of every description--all tendered with
frankness.
I was astonished to find little sympathy and no respect for
the newly installed Government. They were regarded as obscure
or undistinguished men. I alluded to the circumstance that one
of the journals continued to speak of “The President” in the
most contemptuous manner, and to designate him as the great
“Rail-Splitter.” “Oh yes,” said the gentleman with whom I was
conversing, “that must strike you as a strange way of mentioning
the Chief Magistrate of our great Republic, but the fact is, no one
minds what the man writes of any one, his game is to abuse every
respectable man in the country in order to take his revenge on
them for his social exclusion, and at the same time to please the
ignorant masses who delight in vituperation and scandal.”
In the evening, dining again with my friend the banker, I had a
favourable opportunity of hearing more of the special pleading
which is brought to bear on the solution of the gravest political
questions. It would seem as if a council of physicians were
wrangling with each other over abstract dogmas respecting life and
health, whilst their patient was struggling in the agonies of death
before them! In the comfortable and well-appointed house wherein I
met several men of position, acquirements, and natural sagacity,
there was not the smallest evidence of uneasiness on account
of circumstances which, to the eye of a stranger, betokened an
awful crisis, if not the impending dissolution of society itself.
Stranger still, the acts which are bringing about such a calamity
are not regarded with disfavour, or, at least, are not considered
unjustifiable.
Among the guests were the Hon. Horatio Seymour, a former Governor
of the State of New York; Mr. Tylden, an acute lawyer; and Mr.
Bancroft; the result left on my mind by their conversation and
arguments was that, according to the Constitution, the Government
could not employ force to prevent secession, or to compel States
which had seceded by the will of the people to acknowledge the
Federal power. In fact, according to them, the Federal Government
was the mere machine put forward by a Society of Sovereign
States, as a common instrument for certain ministerial acts, more
particularly those which affected the external relations of the
Confederation. I do not think that any of the guests sought to turn
the channel of talk upon politics, but the occasion offered itself
to Mr. Horatio Seymour to give me his views of the Constitution
of the United States, and by degrees the theme spread over the
table. I had bought the “Constitution” for three cents in Broadway
in the forenoon, and had read it carefully, but I could not find
that it was self-expounding; it referred itself to the Supreme
Court, but what was to support the Supreme Court in a contest with
armed power, either of Government or people? There was not a man
who maintained the Government had any power to coerce the people
of a State, or to force a State to remain in the Union, or under
the action of the Federal Government; in other words, the symbol
of power at Washington is not at all analogous to that which
represents an established Government in other countries. _Quid
prosunt leges sine armis?_ Although they admitted the Southern
leaders had meditated “the treason against the Union” years ago,
they could not bring themselves to allow their old opponents, the
Republicans now in power, to dispose of the armed force of the
Union against their brother democrats in the Southern States.
Mr. Seymour is a man of compromise, but his views go farther than
those which were entertained by his party ten years ago. Although
secession would produce revolution, it was, nevertheless, “a
right,” founded on abstract principles, which could scarcely be
abrogated consistently with due regard to the original compact. One
of the company made a remark which was true enough, I dare say.
We were talking of the difficulty of relieving Fort Sumter--an
infallible topic just now. “If the British or any foreign power
were threatening the fort,” said he, “our Government would find
means of relieving it fast enough.” In fact, the Federal Government
is groping in the dark; and whilst its friends are telling it to
advance boldly, there are myriad voices shrieking out in its ears,
“If you put out a foot you are lost.” There is neither army nor
navy available, and the ministers have no machinery of rewards, and
means of intrigue, or modes of gaining adherents known to European
administrations. The democrats behold with silent satisfaction
the troubles into which the republican triumph has plunged the
country, and are not at all disposed to extricate them. The most
notable way of impeding their efforts is to knock them down with
the “Constitution” every time they rise to the surface and begin to
swim out.
New York society, however, is easy in its mind just now, and the
upper world of millionaire merchants, bankers, contractors, and
great traders are glad that the vulgar republicans are suffering
for their success. Not a man there but resented the influence given
by universal suffrage to the mob of the city, and complained of
the intolerable effects of their ascendancy--of the corruption
of the municipal bodies, the venality of electors and elected,
and the abuse, waste, and profligate outlay of the public funds.
Of these there were many illustrations given to me, garnished
with historiettes of some of the civic dignitaries, and of
their coadjutors in the press; but it did not require proof that
universal suffrage in a city of which perhaps three-fourths of the
voters were born abroad or of foreign parents, and of whom many
were the scum swept off the seethings of European populations, must
work most injuriously on property and capital. I confess it is to
be much wondered at that the consequences are not more evil; but no
doubt the time is coming when the mischief can no longer be borne,
and a social reform and revolution must be inevitable.
Within only a very few hundreds of yards from the house and
picture-gallery of Mons. B----, the representative of European
millions, are the hovels and lodgings of his equals in political
power. This evening I visited the house of Mons. B----, where his
wife had a reception, to which nearly the whole of the party went.
When a man looks at a suit of armour made to order by the first
blacksmith in Europe, he observes that the finish of the joints
and hinges is much higher than in the old iron clothes of the
former time. Possibly the metal is better, and the chasings and
garniture as good as the work of Milan, but the observer is not for
a moment led to imagine that the fabric has stood proof of blows,
or that it smacks of ancient watch-fire. If he were asked why it
is so, he could not tell; any more perhaps than he could define
exactly the difference between the lustrous, highly-jewelled,
well-greaved Achaian of New York and the very less effective and
showy creature who will in every society over the world pass
muster as a gentleman. Here was an elegant house--I use the word
in its real meaning--with pretty statues, rich carpets, handsome
furniture, and a gallery of charming Meissoniers and genre pieces;
the saloons admirably lighted--a fair fine large suite, filled
with the prettiest women in the most delightful toilettes, with a
proper fringe of young men, orderly, neat, and well turned-out,
fretting against the usual advanced posts of turbaned and jewelled
dowagers, and provided with every accessory to make the whole good
society; for there was wit, sense, intelligence, vivacity; and yet
there was something wanting--not in host or hostess, or company,
or house--where was it?--which was conspicuous by its absence. Mr.
Bancroft was kind enough to introduce me to the most lovely faces
and figures, and so far enabled me to judge that nothing could be
more beautiful, easy, or natural than the womanhood or girlhood
of New York. It is prettiness rather than fineness; regular,
intelligent, wax-like faces, graceful little figures; none of the
grandiose Roman type which Von Raumer recognised in London, as in
the Holy City, a quarter of a century ago. Natheless, the young
men of New York ought to be thankful and grateful, and try to be
worthy of it. Late in the evening I saw these same young men, Novi
Eboracenses, at their club, dicing for drinks and oathing for
nothing, and all very friendly and hospitable.
The club-house is remarkable as the mansion of a happy man who
invented or patented a waterproof hat-lining, whereby he built a
sort of Sallustian villa, with a central court-yard, à l’Alhambra,
with fountains and flowers, now passed away to the New York Club.
Here was Pratt’s, or the defunct Fielding, or the old C. C. C.’s in
disregard of time and regard of drinks--and nothing more.