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NOTIONS
OF THE
AMERICANS:
PICKED UP BY A
TRAVELLING BACHELOR.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
1867
City of Washington.
NEW YORK:
STRINGER & TOWNSEND.
222 BROADWAY, COR. ANN-STREET
1850.
Eastern District of Pennsylvania, go wit:
L.S. BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the nineteenth day of July, in the fifty-third year of the independence of the United States of America, A. D. 1828,
Carey, Lea & Carey,
of the said district, have deposited in this office the title of a Book, the right whereof they claim as Proprietors, in the words following, to wit:
“Notions of the Americans. Picked up by a Travelling Bachelor.”
In Conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, “An Act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned.” And also to the Act entitled, “An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled ‘An act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned,’ and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching, historical and other Prints.”
D. CALDWELL,
Clerk of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania
JOHN CADWALLADER
, OF CADWALLADER, IN THE STATE OF NEW-YORK, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Without
your aid and kindness these pages could never have been written. Whatever other people may think of their merit, it is quite probable that you and I believe they contain some truths. We must therefore endeavour to keep each other in good humour, provided they shall happen to be neglected rather more than our joint opinions may lead us to think they deserve.
Shortly after my return to the queen of cities, there was a happy reunion of all the remaining members of the club. I know you will be glad to hear, that, with a solitary exception, this embraced every man whose name has stood on the roll since its formation.fauteuil
of the derelict, containing an appropriate inscription, and two
memento mori
are cut in its sides A wedding ring has also been
The question of a successor has been deeply agitated among us. Nothing but the exceeding liberality which pervades and colours our meetings could have insured the result which has grown out of the election. Yes, my friend, the empty
fauteuil
is yours; and, as I know you have destroyed the coat of arms of your European ancestors, I have caused a design of my own to be emblazoned in the proper place. It is a constellation of twenty-four stars, surrounded by a cloud of
nebulœ
with a liberty-cap for a crest, and two young negroes as supporters. I was obliged to adopt this equivocal blazonry, in order to quiet all parties, for the election was not without a struggle. A great deal was said about liberality, but I believe you know that liberality always infers certain reservations. The Abbate objected a good deal to the preponderance of the Protestant interest, and I thought Waller was a little jealous of having a member who might introduce a dialect of his mother tongue. But Jules Béthizy stood by you like a man, and the Russian swore you were his neighbour, and
A 2in
you
should
come. In short, the question was carried; and now the agony is over, both the Baronet and the Priest put the best possible face on it.
Come to us, then, dear John, as soon as you can tear yourself from the delights of home. We contemplate a great and general movement during the next three years' recess, and an honourable station shall be assigned you in the task of peregrination. There is a good deal of distrust manifested by some unbelievers in our body concerning the matter detailed in my letters; but
n'importe
, thirty years ago most of the worthy members did not know the colour of the skin of the people concerning whom I have written. They who live thirty years hence may live long enough to discover, that what now seems so marvellous will then be deemed quite a matter of course.—Adieu.
The
writer of these Letters is not without some of the yearnings of paternity in committing the offspring of his brain to the world. His chief concern is that the book may pass as near as possible for what it was intended in the design, however it may fall short in the execution.
A close and detailed statistical work on the United States of America, could not keep its place as authority for five years. What is true this year would the next become liable to so many explanations, that the curious would soon cease to consult its pages. The principles of the government, and the general state of society, are certainly more permanent; but the latter varies rapidly in the different stages of a life that is so progressive. Nothing more has, therefore, been attempted here, than to give a hasty and general sketch of most things of interest, and to communicate what is told in as unpretending and familiar a way as the subjects themselves would conveniently allow.
The facts of these volumes are believed to be, in common, correct. The Author claims no exemption from error; but as he has given some thought and a great deal of time to the subjects on which he has treated, he hopes that refutation will not easily attack him in the shape of evidence. His reasoning—if rapid, discursive, and ill-arranged arguments can aspire to so high a name—must, of course, depend on its own value. A great number will certainly condemn it, for it as certainly opposes the opinions of a vast number of very honest people in Europe. Still, as he has no one object but
A great number of readers wilt be indisposed to believe that the United States of America are of the importance which the writer does not disguise he has attempted to show that they are of to the rest of the world. On this subject there must, probably, remain a diversity of opinion that time only can decide. As it is quite probable that in this unfortunate dispute there will he many against him, the Author will endeavour to content himself with the consideration that time is working much faster than common on the points that are most involved in the matter. He is quite satisfied with the umpire.
There is a much graver offence against the rights of readers than any contained in the opinions of this work. A vast deal has been printed that should not have been, and much has been omitted that might have been properly said. But circumstances allowed of no choice between great and acknowledged imperfections, or total silence. Something of the extent of this demerit, therefore, must depend on the fact of whether enough has been told to justify publication at all. The writer has not treated the public with so little ceremony as to usher a work on their notice without, at least, believing a fair proportion of this apology is contained in its pages. If he deceive himself, it will be his misfortune; and if he does not deceive his readers, he shall rejoice.
The circumstances to which allusion has just been made, involve haste in printing no less than haste in selection. There are errors of style, and some faults of grammar, that are perhaps the mutual neglect of the author, the copyists, and the printers. The word “assured” is, for instance, used for “insured,” and adverbs have, in several cases, been converted into adjectives. In one or two instances, negatives have been introduced where it was not intended to use them. But they who detect most of these blunders will know how to make allowances for their existence; and to those who do
It will be seen that much use has been made of the opinions and information of a native American. Without some such counsellor, the facts of this book could never have been collected. There is, perhaps, no Christian country on earth in which a foreigner is so liable to fall into errors as in the United States of America. The institutions, the state of society, and even the impulses of the people, are in some measure new and peculiar. The European, under such circumstances, has a great deal to
unlearn
before he can begin to learn correctly.
America has commonly been viewed in the exceptions rather than in the rules. This is a common fault with all travellers, since it at once gratifies their spleen and indulges their laziness. It is a bad compliment to human nature, but not the less true, to say that no young traveller enters a foreign country without early commencing the task of invidious comparison. This is natural enough, certainly, for we instantly miss the things to which we have been accustomed, and which may owe half their value to use; and it requires time and habit to create new attachments. This trait of character is by no means confined to Europe. The writer can assure his contemporaries, that few men travel among foreign nations with a more laudable disdain than the native of the States of which these volumes treat. He has his joke and his sneer, and not unfrequently his reason, as well as the veriest
petit-mâtre
of the Thuilleries, or any exquisite of a London club-house. Ere long he will begin to make books too; and as he has an unaccommodating manner of separating the owner from the soil, it is not improbable that he may find a process by which he will give all due interest to the recollections of former ages, while he pays a passing tribute to this.
The writer has not the smallest doubt that many orthodox unbelievers will listen to what he has said of America in this work, with incredulous ears. He invites all such stout adherents to their own preconceived opinions, to submit to a certain examination of facts that are perfectly within their reach. He would propose that they inquire into the state of America as it existed fifty years ago, and that they then compare it with its present condition. After they have struck a balance between the two results, they can safely be left to their own ruminations as to the probability of a people, as barbarous, as ignorant, and as disorganized, as they have been accustomed to consider the Americans, being very likely to work such miracles. When they have honestly come to a conclusion, it is possible they may be disposed to give some credit to the contents of the following pages.
It is not pretended that the actual names of the individuals to whom these letters are addressed are given in the text. It is hoped that eight or ten single gentlemen can meet once in three years in a club, and that they can pass the intermediate time in journeying about the world, occasionally publishing a few ideas on what they have seen, without being reduced to the necessity of doing so much violence to their modesty as to call each other unequivocally by their proper appellations. Had they not been disposed to lives free comment and criticism, it is more than probable that they would have all been married men these—years.
One more word on the subject-matter of these pages, and the writer will commit them to the judgment of his readers without further interruption. In producing a work on the United States, the truth was to be dealt with fearlessly, or the task had better be let alone. In such a country, existing facts are, however, of consequence only as they are likely to affect the future. It is of little moment to know that so many houses are in a town, or so many straw beds in such a house, when promises are at hand to demonstrate clearly, that in a year or two the roofs of the city will be doubled, and the inmates of
The writer has said very little on the subject of the ordinary vices of mankind; for he has hoped that no one will read his book, who has yet to learn that they exist every where. It any one shall suppose that he wishes to paint the people of America as existing in a state superior to human passion, free from all uncharitableness and guile, he takes the liberty to assure him he will fall into an egregious blunder. He has not yet met with such an elysium in his travels.
If the bile of any one shall be stirred by the anticipations in which the writer has indulged in favour of the United States of America, he shall be sorry; but as he cannot see
Liverpool, England, July 22d, 1824.
Dear Waller,
You are to express no astonishment at the place where this letter is dated. I confess the engagement to meet you under the walls of the Seraglio; but hear me, before the sin of forgetfulness shall be too hastily imputed to my charge. You know the inveterate peregrinating habits of the club, and can judge, from your own besetting propensity to change your residence monthly, how difficult it might prove to resist the temptation of traversing a soil that is still virgin, so far as the perambulating feet of the members of our fraternity are concerned. In a word, I am here, awaiting the packet for America. Before you get this letter, the waters of one half of the Atlantic will roll between us. This resolution, seemingly so sudden, has not, however, been taken without much and mature thought.
Cosmopolites, and searchers of the truth, as we boast ourselves, who, of all our number, has ever turned his steps towards a quarter (I had almost written half) of the globe, where new scenes, a state of society without a parallel, even in history, and so much that is fresh, both in the physical and moral world,
Vol.
I. B
On the road between Moscow and Warsaw, I encountered a traveller from the states of North America. He was about to end a long pilgrimage, in Europe, Asia, and Africa, and to return, eager as a discharged Swiss, to the haunts of his youth the other hemisphere. He appeared like one who was wearied with the selfishness, struggles, and factitious distinctions of our eastern regions. Truly, there was something so naïf, and yet so instructed—so much that was intellectual, and withal so simple—a little that was proud, blended with something philosophical, in the temperament and manner of this western voyager, that he came over my fancy with the freshness of those evening breezes, for which you will be shortly panting, on the shores of the Dardanelles. To be serious, he was an educated and a gifted man, with a simplicity of thought, as well as of deportment, that acted like a charm on my exhausted feelings. You are not to suppose that, at fifty, I have fallen into the errors of five-and-twenty, and, that I am about to become, again, a convert to thrice-wornout opinions, new vamped, under the imposing name of philosophy. The word has never escaped (the lips of Cadwallader (for so is my new acquaintance called), even in the gravest of his moods.
An evening, passed in the company of this American, at a miserable post-house on the frontiers of Poland, only furnished a zest for the week in which it was agreed we should travel together. At the end of that week, my resolution was taken. I had heard so much to excite curiosity—so much to awaken thought,
Neither are you to be too hasty in believing, that my companion has been soothing my ears with Arabian imagery. Nothing can be farther from the truth. He is saturnine by nature, and, a Frenchman might add, taciturn to a fault. From a certain expression of melancholy, that often overshadows his countenance, I should think he had long been familiar with regrets, which, from their nature, must be unceasing. Still, I find great equanimity of temper, and the same calm, deliberative manner of considering things, as if he deemed himself already removed from most of the great and moving interests of the world. Perhaps these peculiar and individual qualities, in some measure, quickened the desire I felt to examine his country. I would give much, to know his private history; but I never before associated with one who was, at the same time, so communicative, and yet, so reserved.
In short, I found this calm, reasoning American so fresh, so original in his way of treating things, which long use had rendered, to my imagination, fixed and unalterable as the laws of nature themselves, and so direct in the application of all his opinions to the practices of the world, that I early became alive to the desire of examining a state of society, which, I am fond of believing, must have had some influence in giving birth to so much independence and manliness of thought.
Before we had reached the Rhine, it was arranged between us, that we should cross the ocean together; and Cadwallader promised me his assistance and advice, in making the preparations that might be necessary, to render the journey both convenient and profitable.
You will readily imagine, that, with the intention of passing a year or two in the republics of North
Our arrival at this place had been so timed, as to precede the departure of the packet by a few days. The intervening period has given us an opportunity to complete the most minute of our arrangements, among which I have ever kept in view the important object of acquiring that information which may be useful in my contemplated journey by land. A Liverpool banker, to whom I had early spoken on the subject, placed in my hands two volumes of travels in America, written by a merchant of this city, of the name of Hodgson, in which he gave me reason to believe I should find, mingled with a large portion of good sense, far more liberality than it was usual to meet in the works of his countrymen when writing on the subject of their republican relatives. You are not to frown, dear Waller, when I add, that even my own dulness had already been able to detect, in the contents of most of my newly acquired treasures, a certain dis torted manner of viewing and of portraying things, which struck me as manifesting a remarkable attachment to caricature. This amiable peculiarity may perhaps furnish a sufficiently intelligible clue to the small favour that the books seemed to enjoy in the
B 2
It was morning when he was put in possession of the book, and the day was purposely permitted to pass without any interruption from me. Late at night, I entered his apartment, and found him occupied in sealing a note directed to myself. As this letter may be supposed to contain the sentiment of an intelligent American on a subject which may not be without its interest, I shall freely copy it. It may possibly contain expressions that are not quite in unison with the temper of an Englishman; but you, as a man of the world, will know how to tolerate independence of feeling, and are far too wise to neglect any favourable opportunity of acquiring information that may, in the course of events, very speedily become useful.
I may have misconceived your interest in this note; still it is curious, as containing the opinion of a perfectly disinterested, and certainly an instructed American. It may also serve for a sort of preface to my own disjointed correspondence, the scattered fragments of which shall be collected at our regular triennial meeting, when they may possibly serve to enliven the gloom of a December day in Paris.
* See note A, at the end of the volume.
Forgive me, that I prefer the rising stars of the Western Constellation to the waning moon of your Turk.—Adieu.
At Sea, August, 1824.
As I know that Sir Edward has given you a meeting at Rome, I shall presume you acquainted with the change in my plans, no less than with the new travelling companion with whom accident has made me acquainted. Of all our associates I could gladly have chosen you, my dear baron, for a co-adventurer in this distant excursion. There is so much of the true maritime spirit in the people I am about to visit, that your experience and observation would have proved both useful and pleasant assistants to my own comparative ignorance. Still, I flatter myself that a life of adventure, and fifty voyages by sea, furnish some few of the qualifications necessary for the task I have assumed.
Cadwallader took the direction of all our arrangements into his own hands; and well has he discharged the trust. But the individual enterprise of the Americans has left very little of this nature to be performed by the traveller. Capacious, beautiful, and excellent ships, sail, on stated days, between many of the European ports and their own country. This system of arrangement, so important to commercial interests, and so creditable to the efforts of a young state, is said to be extended still further. Lines of packets, as they are termed, also exist between New-York and the West Indies, South America, and between most of the larger havens of their own sea-board. They are not straitened, filthy, inconvenient vessels, such as too often aspire to convey passengers in Europe; but ships that are not only commodious tocuisine.
There is a sort of coquetry about most of your profession, which renders them ambitious of demonstrating their perfect equality with the occupants of
terra firma.
Like a beauty on the decline, they would fain continue the charms of other days and other scenes, when common sense, which in these matters is taste, would teach them that the fitness of things embraces time and place. In the midst of sea-sickness and nausea, the stomach is not very craving for old acquaintances, though it might be tempted by the instigation of novelties. On this principle, I think, always with deep and reverential deference, that you sailors, especially in passages that do not exceed a month, should endeavour to purchase your culinary renown by sea-pies and chowders, and other dishes that are in good nautical keeping, instead of emulating the savoury properties of roast beef and
poulets
, in lame and tasteless imitations. Enough, however, on a subject that a landsman can never approach, but he is suspected of an intention of literally taking the “bread out of our mouths.”
At Liverpool I was struck with the number of
The tendency to the sea, which the American has manifested since the earliest of the colonial establishments, is, no doubt, to be ascribed originally to the temper of his ancestors. Nothing can be more absurd, however, than to argue, that although peculiar circumstances drew him on the ocean, during the continuance of te late and general hostilities, he will return to his fertile valleys and vast prairies, now that competitors for the profits of commerce and navigation * On the 30th Dec. 1826, it had swelled to 1,534,000.
The navigation laws, adopted by the United States, so soon as their present constitution went into operation, are generally known. Their effect was to bring the shipping of the country into instant competition with that of foreign nations, from the state of temporary depression into which it had been thrown by the struggle of the Revolution. From that hour, the superiority enjoyed by the American, in cheapness of construction, provisions and naval stores, aided by the unrivalled activity, and practical knowledge of the population, put all foreign competition at defiance. Of 606,000 tons of shipping employed in 1790, in the foreign trade of the country, not less than 251,000 tons were the property of strangers. In 1794, while the trade employed 611,000 tons, but 84,000 tons were owned by foreigners. In 1820 (a year of great depression) the trade gave occupation to 880,000 tons, of which no more than 79,000 tons were foreign property
Now, one would think these simple facts, which have withstood the tests of colonial policy, and of political independence; of peace and of war; of a fair and of a specious neutrality; of open violence and of self-imposed restrictions, for more than a century, might be deemed conclusive of the ability no less than of the disposition of the Americans to continue what they now are—a people more maritime in their habits and pursuits, compared with their numbers, than any that exist, or who have ever gone before them. Still there are real or pretended sceptics. It is contended that a continental nation, possessed of territories so vast, and which are peopled by so spare a population, cannot continue in pursuits to which nature and interest present so many obstacles. The proposition is somewhat as if one should say, Russia is a country of extensive territory, that is but thinly peopled, and so is America. Now, as Russia is not, neither therefore can America be maritime. Nor are the arguments by which this singular proposition is supported, less absurd than the position itself. Notwithstanding the obstinate, glaring, and long-continued fact, that the American has and does neglect the tillage of his virgin forests, in order to seek more congenial sources of wealth on the ocean, one hears it hotly contended every day, that this state of things has been created by adventitious circumstances, and must cease as the influence of those circumstances ceases, and that of others shall come into action. You are told
Vol I.
C
* See note B, at end of the volume.
There is a cry of land, and I must hasten on deck to revel in the cheerful sight. Adieu.
New-York,—
I threw
aside my pen abruptly, dear Baron, in order to catch a first view of America. There is something so imposing in the sound of the word—
continent
, that I believe it had served to lead me into a delusion, at which a little reflection has induced me to be the first to smile. My ideas of this remote and little known moiety of the world, have ever been so vague and general, that I confess the folly of having expected to see the land make its appearance
en masse
, and with a dignity worthy of its imposing name. The mind has been so long accustomed to divide the rest of the globe into parts, and to think of them in their several divisions of countries and provinces, that one expects to see no more of each. at a
coup d'œil
, than what the sight can embrace.
* The Americans say, it is a common and absurd blunder of the European to blend all his images of America in one confused whole. Thus one talks of the climate of America! of the soil of America! and even of the people and manners of America! (meaning always the continent too, and not the United States.) No doubt there are thousands who know better; but still there is a good deal of truth in the charge. The writer was frequently amused, during his voyage, by hearing the passengers (mostly Americans) relate the ridiculous mistakes that have been made by Europeans, otherwise well informed, when conversing on the subject of the transatlantic continent. Countries which lie on different sides of the equator, are strangely brought into contact, and people, between whom there is little affinity of manners, religion, government, language, or, indeed, of any thing else, are strangely blended in one and the same image. It would seem to be an every-day occurrence, for Americans to have inquiries made concerning individuals, estates, or events which exist, or have bad an existence, at some two or three thousand miles from their own places of residence, just as if the Dane should be expected to answer interrogatories concerning the condition of a farm situate on the Po!
C 2
Now, ridiculous as it may seem, I had, unaccountably, imbibed the impression that America was to appear, ear, at the first glance, larger to the senses than the little island I had left behind me. You are at perfect liberty to make yourself just as merry as you please at this acknowledgment; but, if the truth could be fairly sifted, I have no doubt it would be found that most European adventurers, who seek these western regions, have formed expectations of its physical or moral attributes, quite as extravagant as was my own unfortunate image of its presence. I have taken the disappointment as a salutary admonition, that a traveller has no right to draw these visionary scenes, and then quarrel with the people he has come to visit, because he finds that he has seen fit to throw into a strong light, those parts which nature has every where been pleased to keep in shadow; or to colour highest the moral properties, which the same wise dame has sagaciously kept down, in order that those qualities, which it has been her greatest delight to lavish on man, may for ever stand the boldest and most prominent in her own universal picture.
Instead of beholding, on reaching the deck, some immense mountain, clad in a verdant dress of luxuriant and unknown vegetation, lifting its tall head out of the sea, and imperiously frowning on the sister element, my first view was of that same monotonous waste with which my eyes had been sated to weariness, during the last three weeks. The eager question of “Where is America?” was answered by Cadwallader, who silently pointed to a little, blue, cloud-like mound, that rose above the western horizon in three or four undulating swells, and then fell away to the north and to the south, losing itself in the water. I
The season of the year, a soft, balmy, southerly breeze, and the air from the land, however, were all present to restore good-humour. The little hillocks soon swelled into modest mountains; and then a range of low, sandy, and certainly hot inviting, coast, was gradually rising along the western margin of the view. The sea was dotted with a hundred sails, all of which were either receding from, or approaching, a low point that was as yet scarcely visible, and which extended a few miles to the northward of the high land already mentioned. Beyond, in that direction, nothing more was as yet apparent, than the tame view of the sea. Three or four small schooners were lying off and on, under jib and mainsail, gliding about, like so many marine birds soaring over their native waters. From time to time, they threw pilots on board of, or received them from, the different ships that were quitting or entering the haven with the Cape. On the whole, the scene was lively, cheering, and, compared to the past, filled with the most animating expectations.
It was not long before a beautiful little sloop, of a
In the absence of all certainty, I ventured to ask Cadwallader, whether an important election had not just passed, in which some favourite namesake of the founder of Thebes had proved successful. This surmise however, was not treated with any particular deference, and then we were left to devise our own manner of explaining the little we had heard, by the aid of sheer invention.
In the mean time the ship was pressing steadily towards her haven. The high land which, in contradistinction to the low, sandy beach, that extends four hundreds of leagues along the coast of this country, has obtained the name of “Neversink,” ceased to rise, and objects had become distinct on its brown acclivity. A light-house on the Cape was soon plainly visible, and a large buoy was seen, heaving and setting with the unquiet waters, to mark the proper entrance to a wide bay, that stretched, farther than the eye could reach, to the westward. Just without this rolling beacon, lay a low, graceful, rakish, little schooner, in waiting to give us a pilot. The wind was getting light, and there was no necessity to arrest the progress of the ship to receive this welcome harbinger of the comforts of the land. It may be unnecessary to add, that we all pressed around him, in a body, to attain
I was struck with the singular air of exultation with which this sturdy marine guide delivered himself of the intelligence with which he was evidently teeming. To the usual question, he gave a quick answer, and in nearly the same language as the seaman of the fishing-smack. “Cadmus in,” again rung in our ears, without leaving us any wiser than before we had heard the inexplicable words. “She has been long enough from Havre, to be out again,” retorted our captain, with a dryness that savoured a little of discontent. “If you think so much of the arrival of the Cadmus in thirty days, from France, what will you say to that of my ship, in twenty-one, from Liverpool?” “Your owners may be glad to see you, but then, you've not got the
old man
aboard.” “We have them here of all ages: and what is far better, some of both sexes!” returned one of the passengers, throwing a glance at the interested features of a beautiful young creature, who was eagerly listening to catch the syllables that should first impart intelligence from her native country, “Ay, ay; but you have no La Fayette in the ship.” “La Fayette!” echoed, certainly every American within hearing. “Is La Fayette arrived?” demanded Cadwallader, with the quickness of lightning, and with an animation far greater than I had ever given him credit for possessing. “That is he, safe and well. He has been on the island with the vice-president since yesterday. This morning he is to go up to town, where he will find himself a welcome guest. The bay above is alive,” our guide concluded, jerking his thumb over one shoulder, and looking as if he were master of a secret of some importance. Here, then, was a simple and brief explanation of the event on which we had been exercising our faculties for the last two hours.
I will acknowledge, Baron, that I was touched myself, at the common feeling thus betrayed by so many differently constituted individuals; and, at so simple an occurrence. There was none of that noisy acclamation with which the English seamen are apt to welcome any grateful intelligence, nor a single exaggerated exclamation, like those which characterize the manners of most of the continental nations of Europe, in their manifestations of pleasure.
It was not long ere Cadwallader had taken the pilot apart, and was earnestly engaged in extracting all the information he deemed necessary, on a subject he found so interesting. I was soon made acquainted with the result. It seems, that after an absence of forty years, La Fayette had returned to visit the land in which he had laid the foundation of his fame. That he had reached a country where hearts and arms would alike be open to receive him, was sufficiently manifest in the manner of all around me; and I could not but felicitate myself, in being so fortunate as to have arrived at a moment likely to elicit some
I was not sorry, therefore, to listen to the plans of my companion. A boat, in the employment of the journals of the city, was by this time alongside the ship, and having obtained the little news we had to impart, it was about to return into the haven, in order to anticipate the arrival of the vessel, which was likely to be delayed for many hours by a flat calm and an adverse tide. In this boat it was proposed that we should take passage, as far, at least, as the place where La Fayette had made his temporary abode. The earnestness with which Cadwallader pressed this plan, was not likely to meet with any objections from me. Tired of the ship, and eager to place my foot on the soil of the western world, the proposal was no sooner made than it was accepted. The boat was instantly engaged for our exclusive benefit, and the necessary preparation, made for our departure.
And now a little incident occurred, which, as it manifests a marked difference in the manners, and perhaps in the characters of those who inhabit this republic, and the possessors of our own Europe, I shall take the liberty to introduce.
I have already mentioned a fair creature as being among our passengers. She is of that age when, in our eyes, the sex is most alluring, because we know it to be the most innocent. I do not think her years can much exceed seventeen. Happily, your Belgic temperament is too mercurial to require a tincture of romance to give interest to a simple picture, in which delicacy, feminine beauty, and the most commendable ingenuousness, were admirably mingled. Neither am I, albeit, past the time of day-dreams, and wakeful nights, so utterly insensible to the attractions of such a being, as to have passed three weeks in her society, without experiencing some portion of that manly interest in her welfare which, I fear, it has been my evil fortune to have felt for too many of the syrens in general, to permit a sufficient concentration of the sentiment, in favour of any one in particular. I had certainly not forgotten, during the passage, to manifest a proper spirit of homage to the loveliness of the sex, in the person of this young American; nor do I think that my manner failed to express a prudent and saving degree of the admiration that was excited by her gentle, natural, and nymph-like deportment, no less than by her spirited and intelligent discourse. In short—but you were not born in Rotterdam, nor reared upon the Zuy der Zee, to need a madrigal on such a topic. The whole affair passed on the ocean, and, as a nautical man, you will not fail to comprehend it. Notwithstanding I had made every effort to appear, what you know I really am, sufficiently amiable, during the voyage, and, notwithstanding Cadwallader had not given himself any particular trouble on the subject at all, it was not to be denied that there was a marked distinction in the reception of our respective civilities, and that always in his favour. I confess that, for a long time, I was disposed (in the entire
absence of all better reasons) to ascribe this preference to an illiberal national prejudice. Still, it
Vol. I D
Something nettled by a circumstance that, to one who is sensible he is not as interesting as formerly,I am his countryman
, and he is watchful of you, because you are
not!
Men of my time of life, are not considered particularly dangerous to the affections of young ladies of seventeen, for unequal matches are of exceedingly rare occurrence among us. And, if I were what I have been,” he added, smiling, “I do not know that the case would be materially altered. In every thing but years, the grandfather of the fair Isabel, knows that I am the equal of his charge. It would be quite in the ordinary course of things, that a marriage should grow out of this communication. Ninety-nine, in one hundred, of our family connexions, are formed very much in this manner. Taste and inclination, ratheréclat
, even to an otherwise contemptible individual; in America, he must be a peculiarly fortunate man, who can withstand its odium. But the abuse of youth and innocence with us, is comparatively rare indeed. In consequence, suspicion slumbers;
voila tout.
”
“But why this difference, then, between you and me?” I demanded. “Why does this Cerberus sleep only while you are nigh? I confess I looked for higher courtesy in a man who has travelled.”
“It is precisely because
he has travelled.
” my friend interrupted, a little dryly. “But you an console yourself with the expectation, that those of his countrymen, who have never quitted home, will be less vigilant, because less practised in foreign manners.”
This introduction brings me to my incident. It was no sooner known that we were about to quit the ship, than a dozen longing faces gathered about us. Our example was followed by others, and one or two more boats from the land were engaged to transport the passengers into the bay, in order that they might witness the reception of La Fayette. I had observed a cloud of disappointment on the fair brow of the little Isabel, from the moment our intentions were known. The circumstance was mentionedunder the especial protection
of my companion. In all this arrangement, singular as it appeared to my eastern vision, there was the utmost simplicity and confidence. It was evident, by the tremulous and hesitating assent of the young lady, that even the customs of the country were slightly invaded; but, then, the occasion was deemed sufficiently extraordinary to justify the innovation. “So much for the privileges of two score and five,” whispered Cadwallader, after he had handed his charge into the boat. For myself, I admit I rejoiced in an omen that was so flattering to those personal pretensions which, in my own case, are getting to be a little weakened by time. Before closing this relation, of what I consider a distinctive custom, it is proper to add, that had not the parties been of the very highest class of society, even far less hesitation would have been manifested; and that the little reluctance exhibited by Isabel, was rather a tribute paid to that retiring delicacy which is thought to be so proper to her sex, than to the most remote suspicion of any positive impropriety. Had she been a young married woman, there would, probably, have been the same little struggle with timidity, and the same triumph of the curiosity of the sex. But the interest which our fair companion took in the approaching ceremony, deserves a better name. It was plain, by her sparkling eyes and flushed features, that a more worthy sentiment
D 2
Behold us then in the boat; Cadwallader, the gentle Isabel, and our three attendants, and impelled by the vigorous arms of four lusty watermen. We were still upon the open sea, and our distance from the city not less than seven leagues. The weather, however, was propitious, and our little bark, no less than its crew, was admirably adapted to inspire confidence. The former was long and narrow, but buoyant, and of beautiful construction, being both light and strong. The latter, it appears, are of a class of watermen, that are renowned in this country, under the name of Whitehallers. I have every reason to believe their reputation is fairly earned; for they urged the boat onward with great speed, and with the most extraordinary ease to themselves. I remarked, that their stroke was rather short, and somewhat quick, and that it was made entirely with the arm, the body remaining as nearly upright as possible when the limb are exerted. At first, I thought these men were less civil than comported with their condition. They touched their hats to us, it is true, on entering the boat, but it was rather too much in the manner of a salutation of equality; at least, there was no very visible manifestation of a sense of inferiority. Closer observation, however, furnished no additional grounds of complaint, Their whole deportment was civil, nor, though far from humble, could it be termed in any degree obtrusive; still it was not precisely European. There seemed no sin of commission, but something of omission, that was offensive to the established superiority of a man of certain number of quarterings. Perhaps I was more alive to this jealous feeling, from knowing that I was in a republican country, and from the fact, that I had so recently quitted one where the lower classes bow more, and the higher less than among any other Christian people.sang froid
intimated that her attendant should occupy the next. Neither was he ignorant that the object of his care was a domestic, for he called her “the young woman,” while he distinguished her mistress as “the young lady.” I was a little surprised to see that Cadwallader quietly conceded the place to this Abigail; for, during the passage, the distinctions of master and servant always had been sufficiently observed between all our passengers. I even ventured to speak to him on the subject, in German, of which he has a tolerable knowledge. “Notwithstanding all that the old world has said of itself on this subject,” he coolly answered, “you are now in the true Paradise of women. They receive, perhaps, less idolatry, but more manly care here, than in any country I have visited.” Truly, Baron, I begin to deem the omens propitious!
After passing at a short distance from the low sandy point-already named, we were fairly within the estuary. This bay is of considerable extent, and is bounded on the north and on the south by land of some elevation. It receives a river or two from the west, and is partially protected from the ocean, on the east, by a low beach, which terminates in the point named, and by an island on the opposite side of the entrance. The mouth is a few miles in width, possessing several shallow channels, but only one of a depth sufficient to admit vessels of a heavy draught. The latter are obliged to pass within musket-shot of the point, Cape, or
Hook
, as it is here called. Thence to the city, a distance of some six leagues, the navigation is so intricate as to render a pilot indispensable.
The ruins of an imperfect and insignificant military work were visible on the cape; but I was told the government is seriously occupied in erecting more
I presume, that renowned navigator, the indefatigable Hudson, laboured under some such delusion as myself, when his adventurous bark first steered within the capes of this estuary. My eyes were constantly bent towards the west, in expectation of seeing the spires of a town, rearing themselves from the water which still bounded the view in that direction. The boat, however, held its course towards the north, though nothing was visible there, but an unbroken outline of undulating hills. It seems we were only in an outer harbour, on a magnificient scale, which takes its name (Raritan Bay) from that of the principal river it receives from the west. A passage through the northern range of hills, became visible as we approached them, and then glimpses of the cheerful and smiling scene within were first caught. This passage, though near a mile in width, is a strait, compared with the bays within and without, and it is not improperly termed “the Narrows.” Directly in the mouth of this passage, and a little on its eastern side, arises a large massive fortress, in stone, washed by the water on all its sides, and mounting some sixty or seventy pieces of heavy ordnance. The heights on the adjoining
The shores, on both hands; were now dotted with marine villas and farm-houses, and the view was alive with all the pleasing objects of civilized life. On our left, a little distance above the passage, a group of houses came into view, and some fifty sail were seen anchored in the offing. “That, then, is New-York!” I said, with a feeling a little allied to disappointment, My companion was silent, for his thoughts kept him dumb, if not deaf. “Gentlemen are apt to think they get into the heart of America at the first step,” very coolly returned our strokesman; we are eight good miles from Whitehall slip, and that village is the quarantine ground.” This was said without any vlsible disrespect, but with an air of self-possession that proved our Whitehaller thought it a subject on which long experience had given him a perfect right to bestow an opinion. As I felt in no haste to take the second step into a country where the first had proved so unreasonably long I was fain to await the developement of things, with patience. My companions did not manifest any disposition to converse. Even the petite Isabel, though her strong native attachments had been sufficiently apparent, by her previous discourse, was no longer heard. Like our male companion, a sentiment of deep interest in the ensuing scene, kept her silent. At length the exclamation of “there they come!” burst from the lips of Cadwallader; and there they did come, of a certainty, in all the majesty of a fine aquatic procession, and that too on a scale of magnifacence that was admirably suited to the surrounding waters, and as an American would also probably say, “to the occasion.” In order that
The harbour of New-York is formed by a junction of the Hudson with an arm of the sea. The latter connects the water of Raritan Bay with those of a large sound, which commences a few leagues further eastward, and which separates, for more than a hundred miles, the state of Connecticut from the long narrow island of Nassau. The Americans call this district Long Island, in common parlance; but I love to continue those names which perpetuate the recollection of your former dominion. Some six or seven rivers unite here to pour their waters into a vast basin, of perhaps sixty or seventy miles in circuit. This basin is subdivided into two unequal parts by a second island, which is known by the name of Staten, another momento of your ancient power. The Narrows is the connecting passage. The inner bay cannot be less than twenty miles in circumference. It contains three or four small islands, and possesses water enough for all the purposes of navigation, with good anchorage in almost every part. The land around it is low, with the exception of the hils near its entrance, and certain rocky precipices of a very striking elevation that on one side line the Hudson, for some miles, commencing a short distance from its month.
On the present occasion every thing combined to lend to a scenery, that is sufficiently pleasing of itself, its best and fullest effect. The heavens were without a cloud; the expanse beneath, supporting such an arch as would do no discredit to the climate of sunny Italy herself. The bay stretched as far as eye could reach, like a mirror, unruffled and shining. The heat was rather genial than excessive, and in fine as our imaginative young companion poetically expressed it, “the very airs were loyal, nor had the climate forgotten to be true to the feelings of the hours!”
It is necessary to have seen something of the ordinarily subdued and quiet manner of these people, in order to enter fully into a just appreciation of the common feelings, which certainly influence all who were with me in the boat, You probably know that we in Europe are apt to charge the Americans with being cold of temperament, and little sensible of lively impressions of any sort. I have learnt enough to know, that in return, they charge us, in gross, with living in a constant state of exaggeration, and with affecting sentiments we do not feel. I fear the truth will be found as much with them as against them. It is always hazardous to judge of the heart by what the mouth utters; nor is he any more likely to arrive at the truth, who believes that every time an European shows his teeth in a smile, he will do you no harm, than he is right who thinks the dog that growls will as infallibly bite, I believe, after all, it must be conceded, that sophistication is not the most favourable science possible for the cultivation of the passions, No man is, in common, more imperturbable than the American savage; and who is there more terrible in his anger, or more firm in his attachments? Let this be as it may, these republicans certainly exhibit their ordinary emotions in no very dramatic manner. I had never before seen Cadwallader so much excited, and yet his countenance manifested thought, rather than joy. Determined to probe him a little closer, I ventured to inquire into the nature of those ties which united La Fayette, a foreigner, and a native of a country that posseses so little in manners and opinions in common with his own, to a people so very differently constituted from those among whom he was born and educated.
“It is then fortunate for mankind,” returned Cadwallader, “that there exists in nature, principles which can remove these obstacles of our own creation. Though habit and education do place wide and frequently
“If any man may claim a character for manful and undeviating adherence to what he has deemed the right, under circumstances of nearly irresistible temptation to go wrong, it is La Fayette. His love of liberal principles was even conceived under the most unfavourable circumstances. The blandishments of a sensual, but alluring court, the prejudices of a highly privileged caste, with youth, wealth, and constitution, were not auspicious to the discovery of truth. None but a man who was impelled by high and generous intentions, could have thrown away a load which weighs so many gifted minds to the earth. He has the high merit of being the first French nobleman who was willing to devote his life and fortune to the benefit of the inferior classes. Some vapid and selfsufficient commentators have chosen to term this impulse an inordinate and vain ambition. If their appellation be just, it has been an ambition which has ever proved itself singularly regardful of others, and as singularly regardless of self. In the same spirit of detraction have these declaimers attempted to assail the virtue they could not imitate, and to depreciate services, whose very object their contracted minds
“In the remembrance of the connexion between La Fayette and his own country, the American finds the purest gratification. It is not enough to say that other men have devoted themselves to the cause of human nature, since we seek, in vain, for one who has done it with so little prospect of future gain, or at so great hazard of present loss. His detracters pretend that he was led into our quarrel by that longing for notoriety, which is so common to youth. It is worthy of remark, that this longing should have been as peculiarly his own by its commencement as by its duration. It is exhibited in the man of seventy, under precisely the same forms that it was first seen in the youth of nineteen. In this particular, at least, it partakes of the immutable quality of truth.
“Separate from all those common principles, which, in themselves, would unite us to any man, there are ties of a peculiarly endearing nature between us and La Fayette. His devotion to our cause was not only first in point of time, but it has ever been first in all its moral features. He came to bestow, and not to receive. While others, who brought little beside their names, were seeking rank and emoluments, he sought the field of battle. His first commission had scareely received the stamp of official forms, before it had received the still more honourable seal of his own blood. A boy in years, a native of a country towards which we had a hereditary dislike, he caused
Vol I.
E
“Though subsequent events have tranquillized this interest in the fortunes of La Fayette, we must become recreant to our principles, before it can become extinct. It is now forty years since he was last among us; but scarcely an American can enter France without paying the homage of a visit to La Grange. Our admiration of his disinterestedness, of his sacrifices, and of his consistency, is just as strong as ever; and, I confess, I anticipate that the country will receive him in such a manner as shall prove this attachment to the world. But, you are not to expect, in our people, manifestations of joy similar to those you have witnessed in Europe. We are neither clamorous nor exaggerated, in the exhibitions of our feelings. The prevailing character, of the nation is that of moderation. Still am I persuaded that, in the case of La Fayette, some of our self-restraint will give way before the force of affection. We consider ourselves as the guardians of his fame. They who live a century hence, may live to know how high a superstructure
Cadwallader spoke with an earnestness that, at least, attested the sincerity of his own feelings. I may have given to his language the stiffness of a written essay, but I am certain of having preserved all the ideas, and even most of the words. The humid eyes of the fair Isabel responded to all he uttered, and even our Whitehallers bent to their oars, and listened with charmed ears,—Adieu.
New-York,—
I closed
my last with the sentiments of my American friend, on the subject of La Fayette. I confess that the time was, when my feelings had not entirely escaped the prejudice which is so common among certain people in Europe, on the subject of the character of this distinguished individual. The French Revolution led to so many excesses, that, under a disgust of its abuses, the world has been a little too apt to confound persons, in judging of its characters and events. It is now time, however, to begin to consider, whether its sacrifices have been made without a sufficient object. If the consciousness of civil rights, and the general intelligence which are beginning to diffuse themselves throughout Christendom, are remembered, it will be generally admitted, I believe, that France has not suffered in vain. If
Had any of those ancient prejudices still existed, I should have been churlish, indeed, not to have participated, in some degree, in the generous feelings of my companions. There was so much genuine, undisguised, and disinterested gratification expressed in the manners of them all, that it was impossible to distrust its sincerity. The welcome of every eye was more like the look with which friend meets friend, than the ordinary conventional and artificial greetings of communities. Not a soul of them all, with the exception of Cadwallader, had ever seen their visiter, and yet the meanest individual, of the party took a manifest pleasure in his visit. But it is time that I should show you that this feeling was not confined to the half-dozen who were in my own boat,
At the exclamation of “there they come,” from Cadwallader, my look had been directed to the inner bay, and in the direction of the still distant city. The aquatic procession I saw, was composed principally of steam-boats. They were steering towards the village of the Lazaretto, and their decks exhibited solid masses of human heads. In order to conceive the
E 2coup de main
, transferred at once from the monotony of a passage ship, into the bustle and activity of the American world. Probably not less than five thousand people were collected at this one spot, including all ages and every condition known to the society of the country. Though the whole seemed animated by a common sentiment of pleasure, I did not fail to observe an air of great and subdued sobriety in the countenances of almost all around me. As Cadwallader had the address to obtain our admission into the steam-boat that had come to land, and which was intended to receive La Fayette in person, I was brought into immediate contact with its occupants. Closer observation confirmed my more distant impressions. I found myself in the midst of an orderly, grave, well
We had no sooner secured a proper situation for the little Isabel, than I disposed myself to make remarks still more minute on the assemblage. Cadwallader kept near me, and, though big with the feelings of home and country, his ear was not deaf to my inquiries and demands for explanation. The first question was to ascertain the present residence of the “General,” as I found he was universally called, as it were
par excellence.
They pointed out a modest dwelling, embowered in trees, which might claim to be something between an unpretending villa and a large farm-house. It was the residence of the Vice-President of the United States. This individual was born in a condition of mediocrity,—had received the ordinary, imperfect, classical education of the country, and had risen, by popular favour, to the station
Cadwallader pointed out to me, among the crowd, several individuals who had filled respectable military rank in the war of the Revolution. Three or four of them were men of fine presence, and of great gravity and dignity of mien: others had less pretension; but all appeared to possess, at that moment, a common feeling. There was one in particular, who appeared an object of so much attention and respect, that I was induced to inquire his history. He had been an officer of a rank no higher than colonel—(few of the generals of that period are now living;)—but it seems he had obtained a name among his countrymen for political firmness and great personal daring. He, however, appeared a good deal indebted for his present distinction to his great age, which could not be much less than ninety. Cadwallader
The General approached the boat escorted by a committee of the city authorities, and attended by the Vice-President. The latter, a man of rather, pleasing exterior, took leave of him on the: wharf. La Fayette entered the vessel amid a deep and respectful silence. A similar reception of a public man, in Europe, would have been ominous of a warning popularity. Not an exclamation, not even a greeting of any sort, was audible. A lane was opened through a mass of bodies that was nearly solid, and the visiter advanced slowly along the deck towards, the stern. The expression of his countenance, though gratified and affectionate, seemed bewildered. His, eye remarkable for its fire, even in the decline of life, appeared to seek in vain the features of his ancient friends. To most of those whom he passed, his form must have worn the air of some images drawn from the pages of history. Half a century had carried nearly all of his contemporary actors of the Revolution into the great abyss of time, and he now stood like an imposing column that had been reared to commemorate deeds and principles that a whole people had been taught to reverence.
La Fayette moved slowly through the multitude, walking with a little difficulty from a personal infirmity. On every side of him his anxious gaze still sought some remembered face; but, though all bowed, and, with a deep sentiment of respect and affection, each seemed to watch his laboured footstep, no one advanced to greet him. The crowd opened in his front by a sort of secret impulse, until he had gained the extremity of the boat, where, last in the throng, stood
Greetings now succeeded greetings, until not only all the aged warriors, but most of the individuals in the boat, had been permitted to welcome their guest. In the meanwhile the vessel had left the land, unheeded, and, by the time recollection had returned, I found myself in an entirely new situation. The whole of the aquatic procession was in motion towards the town, and a gayer or a more animated
cortège
can scarcely be imagined. The deep, quiet sentiment which attended the first reception, had found relief, and joy was exhibiting itself under some of its more ordinary aspects. The Castle of La Fayette (for so is the fortress in the midst of the water called) was sending the thunder of its heavy artillery in our wake; while several light vessels of war (the steam-ship included) were answering it in feeble, but not less hearty, echoes. The yards of the latter were strung with
At the confluence of the Hudson (which is here a mile in width) and the arm of the sea already mentioned, the city is narrowed nearly to a point. The natural formation of the land, however, has been changed to a fine sweep, which is walled against the breaches of the water, while trees have been planted, and walks have been laid out, on the open space
Our lodgings are at a house that is called the City Hotel. It is a tavern on a grand scale, possessing the double character of an European and an American house. We have taken up our abode in the former side, the latter, in the true meaning of the word, being a little too gregarious, for the humour of even my companion. In order that you may understand this distinction, it is necessary that I should explain. I shall do it on the authority of Cadwallader.
Most of the travelling in America is done either in steam-boats, which abound, or in the public coaches. This custom has induced the habit of living in common, which prevails, in a greater or less degree, from one extremity of the Republic, or, as it is called here, “the Union,” to the other. Those, however, who
Vol.
I. Ftable d' hôte
for their meals, of which there are four in the day. In some few instances more than one bed is in a room, but it is not the usual arrangement of the house; the whole of which I have visited, from its garrets to its kitchens. I find the building extensive; quite equal to a first-rate European hotel in size, excelling the latter in some conveniences, and inferior to it in others. It is clean from top to bottom; carpeted in almost every room; a custom the Americans have borrowed from the English, and which, in this latitude, in the month of August, might be changed for something more comfortable. Our own accommodations are excellent. They comprise our bedrooms, which are lofty, airy, and convenient, and a salon, that would be esteemed handsome even in Paris. We also might have our four meals, and at our own hours: dining, however, at six o'clock, we dispense with the supper. The master of the house is a respectable, and an exceedingly well-behaved and obliging man, who, of course, allows each of his guests, except those who voluntarily choose to live at his
table d' hôte
, to adopt his own hours, without a murmur, or even a discontented look. I believe we might dine at midnight, if we would, without exciting his surprise. Cadwallader tells me the customs, in this respect, vary exceedingly in America; that dinner is eaten between the hours of two and six, by people in genteel life, though rarely later than the latter hour, and not often so late. The
table d' hôte
in this house is served at three.
The charges are far from dear, where we are established, though it is one of the most expensive taverns in the country. The price for the rooms
I had almost forgotten to say, that La Fayette is lodged in the same house with ourselves. He is literally overwhelmed with kindness and honours. Pleasing as we find the circumstance in itself, I fear it will oblige us to seek a different abode, since there is a throng incessantly at the door; well dressed and orderly, it is true, but still a throng. The very boys are eager to shake his hand, and thousands of bright eyes are turned towards the windows of our hotel to catch fleeting glimpses of his person. His stay here is, however, limited to a short period, an old engagement calling him to Boston, which, during the war of the Revolution, was a place of more importance than even this great commercial town. Adieu.
New-York
* The commencement of this, and of many of the succeeding letters, are omitted, since they contain matter already known to the reader.coup d' œil
of a portion of the interior. It would have been the most obvious, and perhaps the most pleasing route, to have followed the coast as far as Boston; but this would have brought me in the train of La Fayette, where the natural aspect of society was disturbed by the universal joy and excitement produced by his reception. I chose, therefore, a direction farther from the water, through the centre of Connecticut, entering Massachusetts by its southern border, and traversing that state to Vermont. After looking a little at the latter, and New-Hampshire, I returned through the heart of Massachusetts to Rhode Island, re-entering and quitting Connecticut at new points, and regaining this city through the adjacent county of Westchester. The whole excursion has exceeded a thousand miles, though the distance from New-York has at no time been equal to three hundred. By naming some of the principal town through which I passed, you will be able to trace the route on a map, and may better understand the little I have to communicate. I entered Connecticut near Danbury, and left it at Suffield, having passed a night in Hartford,
As experience had long since shown me that the people on all great, and much frequented, roads, acquire a species of conventional and artificial character, I determined, if possible, to penetrate at once into that part of the country within my reach, which might be supposed to be the least sophisticated, and which, of course, would afford the truest specimen of the national character. Cadwallader has examined my track, and he tells me I have visited the very portion of New-England, which is the best adapted to such an object. I saw no great town during my absence, and if I travelled much of the time amid secluded and peaceful husbandmen, I occasionally touched at points where all was alive with the bustle and activity of commerce and manufactures.
A review of the impressions left by this short excursion has convinced me of the difficulty of conveying to an European, by the pen, any accurate, general impression, of even the external appearance of this country. What is so true of one part, is so false of the others, and descriptions of sensible thing which were exact a short time since, become so very soon erroneous through changes, that one should hesitate to assume the responsibility of making them. Still, such as they are, mine are at your service. In order, however, to estimate their value, some little preliminary explanation may be necessary.
The six eastern states of this union comprise what is called New-England. Their inhabitant are known
F 2vice versa
, is matter of surprise to me, who, as you know, have witnessed so much illiberality on similar subjects, among the natives of half the countries of Europe.
New-England embraces an area of between sixty and seventy thousand square miles. Thus, you see, it is larger in extent than England and Wales united. It has about seven hundred miles of sea-coast, and contains a population of something less than 1,800,000. This would give about twenty-seven to the square
Still you will scarcely be able to obtain a just idea of the outward appearance of New-England from a knowledge of these facts. You must have often observed, in travelling through the most populous countries of Europe, how few of their people are seen. France, for instance, only shows the millions with which she is teeming, in her cities and villages. Nor are you struck with the populousness of even the
* Part of the North of Italy may, perhaps, be excepted.
The whole country is subdivided into small freeholds, which are commonly tilled by their owners. The average size of these estates is probably less than a hundred acres. Each, as a general rule, has its house and out-houses. These buildings are usually very near the public roads, and consequently in plain view of the traveller. The field labour is also commonly done at no great distance from the highway. In addition to these reasons, the Americans are thought to perform more journeys, and, consequently, to be more before the eye of their visiters than common. Cadwallader accounts for the latter circumstance in various ways. The greatness of the intermediate distances is the chief of his reasons. But the mental activity of the people, together with the absence of want, are thought to have a proportionate effect. I hear wonders of the throngs that are seen, at certain seasons, on the avenues which lead from the interior to any of the great markets. My companion assures me he once counted eight hundred wagons in the distance of forty miles, most of which were conveying wheat to the city of Albany. On the same road there were sixty taverns in a distance of as many miles; a sufficient proof in itself of the amount of travelling.
Now, all this does not at all comport with our vague European notions of America. We are apt to imagine it a thinly populated, wooded, and fertile, though little cultivated region. Thinly populated it assuredly is, when the whole number of its square miles is compared to the whole amount of its population. But from what I have seen and heard, I feel persuaded, that an American, who understood his ground, might conduct a stranger, who knew nothing of the true numbers of the country, over a territory which shall greatly exceed France in extent, and leave the impression on the mind of his guest, that it was more populous than the latter kingdom. In hazarding this opinions, however, I except the effect of the great towns, and of the villages on fête days and at evenings. In continental Europe the traveller often feels a sense of loneliness, though surrounded by millions of human beings. He sees no houses out of the villages; he meets few on the highways; even the field labourers are half the time removed from sight, and when he enters a wood, it is usually a tenantless forest. In the parts of America I have as yet visited, the very reverse is the case. Unless in particular instances, houses occurred at very short intervals; the highways were not thronged as described by Cadwallader, it is true, but I saw more travellers than is usual in the season of harvest; and I scarcely recollect the moment when my eye could not discover groups of field labourers. Of wood there was certainly plenty; but of forests, with the exception of now and then a mountain, scarcely any. At the latter fact, no less than at the air of populousness which distinguishes this portion of the country, I have been greatly surprised. I passed several comparatively barren tracts which were suffered to sustain what wood they might, and I saw ridge of uneven, broken land, that probably still lay in their native shades; but the character of the whole district
I should not describe New-England as a particularly fertile region. A large proportion of its surface, at least of the part I saw, was rugged and difficult of tillage, though but little of it was positively sterile. It is rather a grazing, than a grain country. For the former, it is well adapted; the land apparently producing rich and sweet grasses in almost every quarter. There were, however, large districts of deep alluvial soil, where any plant that will thrive in this climate might be successfully grown. I scarcely remember so beautiful a country, or a more fertile looking one, than some of that passed along the borders of the Connecticut. The river bottoms were loaded with their products, and the adjacent swells were every where crowned with evidences of the abundance they had lavished on their possessors, in the shape of well-stored barns and spacious and comfortable dwellings. In this excursion I first saw extensive and luxuriant fields of that favourite American plant—the maize. It is deemed an infallible test of the quality of the soil, no less than of the climate, throughout most of the Union. Where maize will not grow, the husbandman is reluctant to dwell. It furnishes a healthful nourishment for man and beast, nor is there any useful animal that will not thrive upon its food. I do not think I passed a solitary farm that had not more or less maize in cultivation. It universally called “corn”
par excellence.
As it is indigenous to the country, sometimes the word Indian is prefixed. But when an American says
New-England may justly glory in its villages! Notwithstanding the number of detached houses that are every where seen, villages are far from unfrequent, and often contain a population of some two or three thousand. In space, freshness, an air of neatness and of comfort, they far exceed any thing I have ever seen, even in the mother country. With now and then an exception of some one among them that possesses a more crowded, commercial, or manufacturing population, than common, they all partake of the same character. I have passed, in one day, six or seven of these beautiful, tranquil and enviable looking hamlets, for not one of which have I been able to recollect an equal in the course of all my European travelling. They tell me, here, that villages, or small towns, abound in the newer portions of the northern and western states, that even eclipse those of New-England, since they unite, to all the neatness and space of the latter, the improvements of a still more modern origin.
In order to bring to your mind's eye a sketch of New-England scenery, you are to draw upon your imagination for the following objects. Fancy yourself on some elevation that will command the view of a horizon that embraces a dozen miles. The country within this boundary must be undulating, rising in bold swells, or occasionally exhibiting a broken, if not a ragged surface. But these inequalities must be
Concerning the character of the people, you cannot expect me to write very profoundly on so short an acquaintance. In order, however, that you may know how to estimate the value of the opinions I shall venture
Vol.
I G
“As respects intercourse with the inhabitants, your path is perfectly plain. You speak the language with what we call the intonation of an Englishman. In America, while there are provincial, or state peculiarities, in tone, and even in the pronunciation and use of certain words, there is no patois. An American may distinguish between the Georgian and the New-Englandman, but you cannot. In this particular our ears are very accurate, and while we can, and do pass for natives every day in England, it is next to impossible for an Englishman to escape detection in America. Five out of six of the whole English nation, let them be educated ever so much, retain something of the peculiarity of their native county. The exceptions are much fewer than they suppose themselves, and are chiefly in the very highest circles. But there is also a slang of society in England, which forms no part of the true language. Most of those who escape the patois, adopt something of the slang of the day. There is also a fashion of intonation in the mother country which it is often thought vulgar to omit. All these differences, with many others, which it may be curious to notice hereafter, mark the Englishman at once. I think, therefore, you will be mistaken for a native of some of the less accurate counties of England. It will, in consequence, be necessary for you to be more on your guard against offence than if you were thought a German, or a Frenchman. The reasons for this caution are perfectly obvious. It is not
All
* This mistake is not, in truth, as absurd as it first seems. The twilight, in high latitudes, serves to eke out the day, so as greatly to subtract from the amount of total darkness. Had the gentleman in question chosen any other part of England than London, he might have found some pretext for his opinion.young
travellers are, as a matter of course, grumblers; but an Englishman is proverbially
the
grumbler. It is generally enough for him, that he meets an usage different from that to which he has been accustomed, to condemn it. It is positively true, that an intelligent and highly talented individual of that country, once complained to me, that in the month of January the days were so much
shorter
in New-York than in London!
“If servility, an air of
empressement
, and a mercenary interest in your comforts, form essentials to your happiness and self-complacency, England, with a full pocket, against the world. But, if you can be content to receive consistent civility, great kindness, and a temperate respect, it which he who serves you
G 2salons.
“From these facts, you may easily glean a knowledge of the personal treatment you are likely to receive in your approaching excursion. There will be an absence of many of those forms to which you have been accustomed, but their place will be supplied by a disinterested kindness, that it may require time to understand, but which, once properly understood, can never be supplied by any meretricious substitute. I never knew an American of healthful feelings, who did not find more disgust than satisfaction, in the obsequiousness of the English domestics. For myself, I will avow that the servility, which I readily understand may become so necessary by indulgence, gave me a pain that you will, perhaps, find it difficult to comprehend. I do not say it may not be necessary in Europe, particularly in England, but I do say, thank God, it is not necessary here.
“It will be prudent, at all times, to treat those who serve you with great attention to their feelings. An instance may serve as an example. A few years since, I was in a boat, on one of our interior waters, accompanied by a fine, gentlemanlike, manly, aristocratic young Englishman. One of the boatmen incommoded us with his feet. ‘Go forward, Sir,’ said my English companion, in a tone that would have answered better on the Thames, than on the Cayuga. The boatman looked a little surprised, and a good deal determined. There was an evident struggle, between his pride and his desire not to give offence to a stranger. ‘We have scarcely room here for our feet,’ I observed; ‘if you will go forward, we shall be more comfortable.’
I must leave you, for the moment, with this morceau from the pen of Cadwallader, who writes as he speaks, like a man who thinks better of his countrymen than we have been accustomed to believe they deserve. I must postpone, to my next, the commentaries that my own trifling experience has suggested on his theory.—Adieu.
New-York,—
Although
stages, as the public coaches are, by corruption, called in this country, run on most of the roads travelled in my recent journey, I decided to make the excursion, at a little cost, in a private conveyance. A neat, light, and elegant pleasure-wagon on horizontal springs, with a driver and a pair of fleet,
We left Manhattan island, on which New-York stands, by a long wooden bridge that connects it with the adjacent county of West-Chester. There is a singular air of desertion about the portion of this island which is not covered by the town, and which I was inclined to ascribe to a sort of common expectation in its owners that the ground would be soon wanted for other purposes than plantations of trees, or pleasure-grounds. It is said, however, that a delay in the regulation of the great avenues and future streets of the city, has produced the apparent neglect. Let the cause be what it may, I do no remember ever to have seen the immediate environs of so large a town in such a state of general abandonment. The island is studded with villas, certainly; but even most these seemed but little cared for. I did not, however, get a view of those which lie on the two rivers.
* Vast improvements have been made, in this part of the island, within the last three years.
I found West-Chester a constant succession of hills and dales, with numberless irregular little valleys, though with nothing that, in English, is called a mountain. The description I have given you, in my last letter, of the general appearance of New-England, will answer perfectly well also for this portion of New-York. The villages were neither so beautiful, nor so numerous, as those I afterwards passed; but in the character of the land, the situation and number of the farm-houses, the multitude of highways, the absence of forests, and the abundance of little groves, the two districts are precisely the same. As respects the great frequency of the public roads, the peculiarity is subject to a very simple explanation. You will remember the whole country is subdivided into the small freeholds mentioned, and that each citizen has a claim to have access to his farm. Each township; as parishes, or
cantons
, are here called, has the entire control of all the routes within its own limits, unless the road be the property of a chartered company. These highways are periodically worked by the inhabitants, agreeably to a rate of assessment, which is regulated according to the personal means of each individual. Every thing of a public nature, that will readily admit of such an intervention, is, in this republican government, controlled by the people in their original character, Thus, all the officers of each town are annually elected, by its inhabitants, in what are called “the town-meetings.” These officers comprise the assessors of taxes, their collectors, the overseers of the highways, &c. &c., and, in short, the whole of its police, with, perhaps the exception of the magistrates, who receive their appointments from different sources. Now, it is evident, that when the power to construct and to repair roads and bridges is removed, by so short an interval, from those who are most affected by their position and condition, that the
public servants
, as the officers are here emphaticallystate-road.
In others, where it is believed capitalists may be induced to invest their money, charters are given, a rate of toll established, and the road becomes the property of a company. The latter are numerous in New-England, nor are the charges at all high.
It is evident that the labour of constructing the vast number of roads and bridges which are necessary to satisfy the public and private wants of a community that does not exceed the population of Prussia, throughout a country as large as half Europe, must be exceedingly burthensome. What I have already seen, however, has given me the most, respectful opinion of the native energy of this people; but I shall not anticipate impressions, which may be increased, or, possibly, changed, as I “prick deeper into the bowels of the land.” Thus far I can say, that nowhere, including great routes and cross-roads, have I found better highways than in New-England, the mother country alone excepted. If the former are not so good as in England, the latter are, however, often better. Perhaps I travelled at a favourable time of the year; but the bridges, the causeways, the diggings, and the levellings, must be there at all seasons.
On the morning of the second day, my coachman, while trotting leisurely along an excellent path, * Possibly some of the British colonies can claim nearly the same exemptions from the interference of the police.
did not understand me!
Further inquiry told me that such things were utterly unknown in America. My baggage was passed at the Custom-house without charge of any sort, except a trifling official fee for a permit to land it; nor did any one present himself to ask or claim compensation for what I could have done better without him. I paid a cartman half-a-dollar for transporting the trunks to my lodgings, where, assisted by the servants of the house, they were placed in the proper room, and then every body silently disappeared, as if no more had been done than what was naturally required by the circumstances. These were the whole of the ceremonials observed at my landing in America. My entrance into Connecticut was not distinguished by any more remarkable incidents. “When shall we reach the frontier?” I asked of the coachman, after a little delay. “I believe the line is along the wall of that field,” he said, pointing carelessly
behind
him. “What! is there nothing else to distinguish the boundary between two independent sovereignties? No officers of the customs, no agents of the police, nor any one to ask us where we go, or whence we come?” The driver looked at me, as if he distrusted my reason aVol. I. Hgendarme
, a horse-patrol, a constable, (to know him,) nor a single liveried agent of this secret power. In short, if one should draw somewhat literally on the ten commandments for rules to govern his intercourse with those around him, so far as I can see, he might pass his whole life here without necessarily arriving at the practical knowledge that there is any government at all.
“Now we are in New-York again,” said my driver, some ten or fifteen minutes after he had assured me we had entered Connecticut. The apparent contradiction was explained by a winding in the road, which had led us through the extreme point of an angle of the latter state. I looked around me in every direction, in order to discover if the least trace of any differences in origin, or customs, could be seen. I remembered to have heard Cadwallader say, that the effects of the policy pursued by the different States, were sometimes visible, to an observant traveller, at a glance, and that he could often tell when he had passed a State line, by such testimony as his eye alone could gather. As I could not then, nor have not since, been able to detect any of these evidences of a different policy, I am inclined to think that the Americans themselves make some such distinctions in the case, as those by which the connoisseurs can tell the colouring of one painter from that of another, or those by which they know the second manner of the divine master of the art from his third.
* A more intelligible distinction certainly became apparent between the slave-holding and non-slave holding states.
Before leaving the State of New-York the second time, I had an opportunity of paying a short visit to one of those distinguished men, who, by acting with so much wisdom, moderation, dignity, and firmness, during the dark days of this republic, imparted to its revolution a reputation that is peculiarly their own. I have ever been an enthusiastic admirer of the conduct of the Americans throughout those trying scenes. They need not hesitate to place it with confidence in comparison with any thing that history may boast. The deeds of the eighteenth century are less equivocal than the patriotism of Brutus, or the clemency of Scipio. Men are far more likely now to be judged by their acts than their words, though even this direct and literal people have uttered sentiments, which, by their simplicity and truth, are entitled to be placed on the same page with the finest sayings of antiquity. The agents of the British governments, who wished to tamper with the loyalty of a distinguished patriot, received an answer that would have done honour to any Roman. “Tell your employer,” said the stern republican, “that I am not worth buying; but such as I am, the king of England is not rich enough to make the purchase!”
The individual at whose residence I paid a passing visit, as a species of homage due to public virtue, was John Jay. This distinguished statesman had discharged many of the public trusts of his country, at a time when life and death hung on the issue. He was President of Congress during the war of the Revolution, before the present system was adopted, and when the country possessed no officer of higher dignity, or greater power. * A mistake is often made in Europe, by blending this ancient officer with the President of the United States. Before the present constitution was adopted, (1789,) there was a President of Congress. At present. Congress is divided into two branches, a Senate and a House of Representatives, each of which has its presiding officer. The Vice-President of the United States is,
ex officio, the head of the Senate, though a substitute, to act on occasion, is always appointed, who is called the President of the Senate. The style by which the Vice-President is addressed in the Senate, is “Mr. President.” The House of Representatives has a Speaker, like the English parliament—he is addressed as “Mr. Speaker.” An individual who belongs to the lower house is in common parlance, called a member of Congress, and one of the upper, a senator, or a member of the Senate. These distinctions, with some trifling exceptions, are observed in all the state legislatures, where the lieutenant-governors commonly perform the duties in the upper houses, that the Vice-President discharges in the Senate of the United States. Thus, though there is a President of the United States, a President of the Senate (the Vice-President of the United States), and a Speaker of the House of Representatives, there is no such officer now known to the country as a “President of Congress.”
You undoubtedly know that, during the American war, an alliance was formed between France and theindependence
of America, his better course would be to accept a
truce
, for twenty years, at the end of which period his country would be sufficiently strong to take what she needed for herself. The philosopher is said to have acquiesced in this opinion, and began to stir his mighty reason in maturing the terms of this remarkable truce. In this state of mind he was found by Mr. Jay, on his arrival from Madrid. The latter was not slow to perceive the effects of such a course, nor to detect the secret source whence the insidious counsel flowed. His eyes had not been dazzled by the splendour of a luxurious court, nor his ears soothed by the flattery of a polished nation. For a long time he had been content to dwell in obscurity in Spain, sacrificing every thing but his country's interests to his manliness and directness of character. He
H 2sine qua non
in any treaty which bore his name. Mr. Adams soon joined the negotiation, and took the side of independence. Franklin, who was at heart a true patriot, suffered the film to be drawn from his eyes, and perfect union soon presided in their councils. But England had not been unapprized of the disposition of America to receive a truce. Her commissioner, Mr. Oswald, appeared with instructions to go no further. In this dilemma a step is ascribed to Mr. Jay, that I believe is as remarkable for its boldness as for its good sense. He is said to have written, with his own hand, to the English Secretary of State, pointing out the bad consequences to England herself, if she adhered to her present policy. By keeping the truce suspended over America, she forced that country to lean on France for support; whereas, by admitting her, at once, into the rank of nations, England would obtain a valuable customer, and might also secure a natural friend. Thus instructed in a better policy, the English minister saw his error, and the same courier who conveyed the letter of Mr. Jay, returned with instructions to Mr. Oswald to acknowledge the independence of the United States. Finding themselves embarassed by the evasions of Count de Vergennes, believing they were betrayed, in the spirit of their alliance at least, and knowing that France could not find the smallest difficulty in settling her own affairs without their agency, the American commissioners proceeded to sign a treaty of peace,
On his return from Europe, Mr. Jay for some time filled the office of Minister for Foreign Affairs. He took a distinguished part in forming the present constitution of the United States. In conjunction with Hamilton and Madison, he wrote the celebrated essays under the signature of the Federalist, which have since come to be a text-book for the principles of the American government. He was then made Chief Justice of the United States, having been educated the bar, which office he resigned, in order to proceed to England to negotiate the treaty of commerce. He was afterwards six years governor
Since the latter period, near five and twenty years, Mr. Jay has lived on the hereditary estate where I saw him, enjoying the profound, and I might also say, idolatrous respect of all who enter his private circle. As his manner of living may serve to give you a better idea of the usages of this country, I will endeavour to give a short description of so much of it, as may be done without violating that respect which is due to the hospitality and frankness of my reception. I shall merely premise, I have already discovered that official rank, in this country, furnishes no certain clue to the rank of an individual in ordinary society, nor consesequently to the style in which he may choose to regulate his establishment. In order that you may understand me, however, it is necessary that I should go a little into detail.
One hears a great deal in Europe of the equality of the United States. Now, if you will make a moderate allowance for the effects which are produced by the division of property on the death of its possessor, or the facility with which estates are acquired, and to the fact that no legal orders exist in the community, you may, with a certain qualification. take the general rules which govern the association and habits of all other countries, as applicable to this. In order, however, to measure accurately the degree of influence the circumstances just named produce, probably requires a greater knowledge of America than I possess. Though it is quite apparent that those conventional castes which divide the whole civilized world into classes, are to be found here, just as they are in Europe, they appear to be separatedelite.
But this is anticipating a subject on which I may be much better prepared to write a twelvemonth hence.
I have told you that official rank in America has very little connexion with rank in ordinary society. This assertion, however, is liable to some little exception. There are certain political stations of so much dignity, as in a great measure to entail on their possessors, and even on their families, the indefinable privileges of caste, here as elsewhere, though from what I can learn this is far from being invariably the case. Thus, while the office of President of the United States, or of Governor of a State, will, in their very nature, open the doors of most houses to their incumbents, a man may be a member of Congress, or even a Senator, and continue to fill his original station in ordinary life. This, also, you, as an Englishman, ought to understand, nor will it be much longer unintelligible in all those other countries of Europe, where representative governments are opening the avenues of political power to all men. Indeed, in France, even under the old regime, government and society were perfectly distinct. Now, just as America is more democratic in her institutions, just so much the more is this blending of conditions discernible in her distribution of political favours. Your countrymen are very apt to make themselves merry with the colonels and majors that are inn-keepers in America; but really it appears to me that these people have much the best right to laugh in the matter, since they
While crossing the state of Massachusetts the last time, I passed a night in the house of one of these military Bonifaces. He was precisely the sort of man Cadwallader had described; kind, independent, unassuming, in fact, but unyielding in appearance; a colonel in the militia, a member of the State legislature, and, in short, one who at need would give you his own blanket and think no more of it, but who would refuse your money unless it were offered with civility, as a just return for what he had bestowed.
But all this is leading me from the subject. Although by a description of the establishment of Mr. Jay should not mislead you into an impression that all those who have enjoyed public favour, in this country, live in a similar manner, it is certainly more true as to those who have arrived to the high dignities he once possessed. In point of size and convenience the dwelling of this distinguished American is abou on a level with a third-rate English country house, or a second-rate French chateau. It has most of the comforts of the former, with some luxuries that are not easy to obtain in your island, and it is consequently both inferior and superior tn the latter, in very many particulars. There is a mixture of use and appearance in the disposition of the grounds, that I am inclined to think very common about the residences of gentlemen of this country. The farm buildings, &c., though a little removed, were in plain view, as if their proprietor, while he was willing to escape from the inconveniences of a closer proximity, found a pleasure in keeping them at all times under his immediate eye. The house itself was partly of stone, and partly of wood, it having been built at different periods; but, as is usual here, with most of the better sort of dwellings, it was painted, and having a comfortable and spacious piazza along its
* It finally expired by law, July 4th, 1827.facade
, another common practice in this climate, it is not without some pretension externally; still its exterior, as well as its internal character, is that of respectable comfort, rather than of elegance, or show. The interior arrangements of this, no less than of most of the houses I have entered here, are decidedly of an English character. The furniture is commonly of mahogany, and carpets almost universally prevail, summer and winter. There is a great air of abundance in the houses of the Americans generally, and in those of the wealthy, it is mingled with something that we are apt to consider luxurious.
Vol.
I I
* The Americans commonly call the autumn the ‘fall;’ from the falling of the leaf.
I scarcely remember to have mingled with any family, where there was a more happy union of quiet decorum, and high courtesy, than I met beneath the roof of Mr. Jay. The venerable statesman himself is distinguished, as much now, for his dignified simplicity, as he was, formerly, for his political sagacity, integrity, and firmness. By one class of his countrymen he is never spoken of without the profoundest respect. It is evident that there are some who have been accustomed to oppose him, though it is not difficult to see that they begin to wonder why. During my short stay beneath this hospitable root, several of the yeomanry came to make visits of respect or of business, to their distinguished neighbour. Their reception was frank and cordial, each man receiving the hand of the “Governor,” as he is called, though it was quite evident that all approached him with the reverence a great man only can inspire. For my own part, I confess, I thought it a beautiful sight to see one who had mingled in the councils of nations, who had instructed a foreign minister in his own policy, and who had borne himself with high honour and lasting credit in the courts of mighty sovereigns, soothing the evening of his days by these little acts of bland courtesy, which, while they elevated others, in no respect subtracted from his own glory. His age and infirmities prevented as much intercourse as I could have wished with such a man, but the little he did communicate on the scenes in which he had been an actor, was uttered with so much clearness, simplicity, modesty, and discretion, that one was left to regret that he could not hear more.
There is a very general opinion in America, that Mr. Jay has been much occupied, in later life, in writing on the prophecies. Of course this is a subject on which I know nothing, but something occurred in the course of conversation which strongly inclines me to hazard a conjecture that they are not true. We
Every body has heard of Zerah Colburne, one of those inexplicable prodigies, whose faculties enable them to assume a command over the powers of numbers that is, probably, quite as much of a mystery to themselves, as to the rest of mankind. High expectations were raised of the effects which education might produce on the capacity of this boy. He went to England; exhibited; calculated; astonished every body; was patronized; sent to school; became a man; returned to his native country lately, and brought back with him the literary offering of a tragedy! I have seen the manuscript, and must say that I think, for once at least, “he has missed a figure.”—Adieu.
12
New-York,—
* Maine, Massachusetts, New-Hampshire, Vermont, Rhode Island, and Connecticut.The six
North-Eastern States of this great union compose what is called New-England.
The people of New-England are, even to this hour, distinguished among their own active and quick-witted countrymen, for their enterprise, frugality, order, and intelligence. The three latter qualities, taken in conjunction, I believe they have a right to claim to a degree that is elsewhere unequalled. The Scot and the Swiss, the Dane and the Swede, the German, the Belgian, or even the Frenchman, may be often as frugal, but there is always something of compulsion in European frugality. The inhabitant of New-England seems thrifty on principle; since he neglects no duty, forgets no decency, nor overlooks any of the higher obligations in order to save his money. He is eminently economical and provident in the midst of abundance. A sentiment of deep morality seems to influence his savings, which he hoards, in order that the superfluity of his wealth may be serviceable, as wealth should be, in securing his own private respectability, and in advancing the interests of the whole. No doubt, in a great community, where economy is rigidly practised as a virtue, some mistake its object, and pervert a quality, which is so eminently adapted to advance the general good, to the purposes of individual rapacity. But it is impossible to journey through New-England, and witness its air of abundance, its decency, the absence of want, the elevation of character, which is imparted to the meanest of its people, without respecting the sources whence they flow. A prudent and discreet economy is, in itself, an evidence of a reflecting and instructed being, as order is the necessary attendant of abundance and thought. You may form some estimate of the degree of intelligence which is diffused throughout the community in New-England, by the facts contained in aeighteen States
, though
twenty-one
are actually named, and
twenty-four
, in truth, existed! Even the palpable contradiction seems to have escaped the proof-readers of the work. Now this book, excessively meagre in itself, is put into the hands of the future mothers of France. Their own kingdom is certainly dealt with a little more liberally; but, though it is perhaps the highest effort of human knowledge, to know one's self, in order to a right understanding of our own character, it is absolutely necessary to have a pretty intimate acquaintance with those of other people. I speak
The effect of this diffusion of common instruction is pre-eminently apparent throughout New-England, in the self-respect, decency, order, and individuality of its inhabitants. I say individuality, because, by giving ideas to a man, you impart the principles of a new existence, which supply additional motives of concern to his respectability and well-being. You are not to suppose that men become selfish by arriving nearer to a right understanding of their own natures and true interests, since all experience proves that we become humane and charitable precisely as we become conscious of our own defects, and obtain a knowledge of the means necessary to repair them. A remarkable example of this truth is to be found in New-England itself. Beyond a doubt, nowhere is to be found a population so well instructed, in elementary knowledge, as the people of these six States. It is equally true, that I have nowhere witnessed such an universality of that self-respect which preserves men from moral degradation. I very well know that in Europe, while we lend a faint attention to these statements concerning American order and prosperity, we are fond of seeking causes which shall refer their origin to circumstances peculiar to her geographical situation, and which soothe our self-love, by enabling us to predict their downfall, when the existence of European pressure shall reduce the American to the level of our own necessities. I confess, I entered the country with very similar impressions myself; but nearer observation has disturbed a theory which is generally adopted, because it is both consolatory and simple. We are apt to say that the ability of the Americans to maintain order atbeau ideal
of form and proportions,—to be an adept in the polished deceptions of conventional intercourse,—to smile when others smile, and weep when others weep,—to patronize and to court,—to cringe and to domineer, in short, to reach the
plus ultra
of eastern refinement, and still to have a strong flavour of barbarity about one after all. There can be no true humanity, which is the essence of all civilization, until man comes to treat and consider man as his fellow. That society can never exist, or, at least, that it could never advance, under a too fastidiously strict interpretation of this duty, needs no proof, since all incentive to exertion would be deadened in a condition where each member of the community had an equal right to participate in the general abundance. The great desideratum of the social compact would then seem to be, to produce such a state of things as shall call the most individual enterprise into action, while it should secure a proper consideration for the interests of the whole;—to avail of the talents of the gifted few, while the long train of humblerdouceurs
was repeatedly declined, and that too with perfect modesty, as if it were unusual to receive rewards for trifles. My comforts and tastes, too, were uniformly consulted; and, although I often travelled in a portion of the country that was but little frequented, at every [?] I met with neatness, abundance, and a manner in? a desire to oblige me was blended with a
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It is worthy of remark that nearly all of the English travellers who have written of America, pass lightly over this important section of the Union. Neither do they seem to dwell with much complacency on those adjoining states, where the habits and characteristics of New England prevail to a great extent, through the emigrants or their immediate descendants. I am taught to believe that, including the inhabitants of the six original States, not less than four millions of the American people are descended from the settlers of Plymouth, and their successors. This number is about four-tenths of the white population. If one recalls the peculiar energy and activity which distinguish these people, he may be able to form some idea of their probable influence on the character of the whole country. The distinctive habits of the Dutch, which lingered among the possesors of the adjoining province of New-York even until the commencement of the present century, have nearly disappeared before the tide of eastern emigration; and there, is said to be scarcely a State in the whole confederation
Suspicion might easily ascribe an unworthy motive to a silence that is so very uniform on the part of interested observers. Volumes have been written concerning the half-tenanted districts of the west, while the manners and condition of the original States, where the true effects of the American system can alone be traced, are usually disposed of in a few hurried pages. It is true there are some few of the authors in my collection, who have been more impartial in their notices, but most of them appear to have sought so eagerly for subjects of derision, as to have overlooked the more dignified materials of observation. Even the respectable Mr. Hodgson, who seems at all times ready to do justice to the Americans, has contented himself with giving some thirty or forty pages to the State of New-York, and disposes of all New England (if the extraneous matter be deducted), Pennsylvania, New-Jersey and Ohio, in about the same space that he has devoted to a passage through the wild regions on the Gulf of Mexico. Though the states just mentioned make but a comparatively indifferent figure. on the map, they contain nearly, if not quite, half of the entire population of the country. It to this be added the fact, that in extent they cover a surface about equal to that of the kingdom of France, one may be permitted to express some surprise that they are usually treated with so little deference. An American would be very much inclined to ascribe this uniform neglect to an illiberality which found no pleasure in any description but caricature, though I think few of them would judge so harshly of the author whose name I have just mentioned. As Cadwallader expressed it, even the mistakes of such a man are entitled to be treated with respect. A much more charitable, and in the instance of Mr. Hodgson.
Still he who would seek the great moving principles which give no small part of its peculiar tone to the American character, must study the people of New-England deeply. It is there that he will find the germ of that tree of intelligence which has shot forth so luxuriantly, and is already shading the land with its branches, bringing forth most excellent fruits. It is there that religion, and order, and frugality, and even liberty, have taken deepest root: and no liberal American, however he may cherish some of the peculiarities of his own particular State, will deny them the meed of these high and honourable distinctions. It may be premature in one who has kept aloof from their large towns, to pronounce on the polish of a people whom he has only seen in the retirement and simplicity of the provinces. Their more southern neighbours say they are wanting in some of the nicer tact of polite intercourse, and that however they may shine in the more homely and domestic virtues, they are somewhat deficient in those of manner. I think nothing, taken with a certain limitation, to be more probable.
I saw every where the strongest evidences of a greater equality of condition than I remember ever before to have witnessed. Where this equality exists, it has an obvious tendency to bring the extremes of the community together. What the peasant gains, the gentleman must in some measure lose. The * Cadwallader told me that this appellation is, indeed, used in the new States to the south-west, where it is more apposite, and subsequent observation has confirmed the fact. † It is singular that every English traveller the writer has read, in the midst of all his exaggerations, either directly or indirectly admits this fact.
K 2stranger?
and where do you come from? and what may your name be?” if ever true, is now a gross caricature. The New-Englandman is too kind in all his habits to call any man
stranger.
By the hand of the fair Isabel, Waller there is something noble and touching, in the universal and yet simple and unpretending homage with which these people treat the weaker sex. I am sure a woman here has only to respect herself in order to meeten militaire
,’ he could scarcely have been more amused. After all, what nobler or more convincing proof of high civilization can be given than this habitual respect of the strong for the weak? The condition of women in this country is solely owing to the elevation of its moral feeling. As she is never misplaced in society, her influence is only felt in the channels of ordinary and domestic life.
I have heard young and silly Europeans, whose vanity has probably been wounded in finding themselves objects of secondary interest, affect to ridicule the absorbed attention which the youthful American matron bestows on her family; and some have gone so far in my presence, as to assert that a lady of this country was no more than an upper servant in the house of her husband. They pay us of the eastern hemisphere but an indifferent compliment, when they assume that this beautiful devotion to the first, the highest, and most lovely office of the sex, is peculiar to the women of station in America only. I have ever repelled the insinuation as becomes a man; but, alas! what is the testimony of one who can
The effect of this natural and inestimable division of employment, is in itself enough to produce an impression on the characters of a whole people. It leaves the heart and principles of woman untainted by the dire temptations of strife with her fellows. The husband can retire from his own sordid struggles with the world to seek consolation and correction
It is vain to say that absence of selfishness, and all the kinder and best feelings of man, are no more than the concomitants of abundance and simplicity, which
It is a remarkable fact, that the retired, distant, and little regarded States of which I am writing, had matured and were reaping the rare fruits of a system of extended general instruction, for quite a century,
In reviewing my letter, I see that I have written warmly, and with a portion of that interest which the two subjects that have been its themes rarely fail to inspire. As I know you enter fully into all my feelings, both for the fair and for general instruction, (for however lame and defective may have been the policy of your nation, compared with that of your kinsmen here, there still exists in England, as in Denmark, and a few other nations, a high and noble spirit of emulation,) I shall not recall a single sentence of that which has escaped my pen. But the subject must be left, until further opportunity shall be given to look into the society of New England in its large towns.
During the whole of my recent excursion, though I purposely avoided encountering La-Fayette, his visit has been a constant and inexhaustible topic of conversation. His journey along the coast has been like the passage of a brilliant meteor. In every village he has been received with modest, but heartfelt rejoicings, while his entrances into the cities have been literally triumphant. That there have been
Vol I
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New-York, 1824
I feel
that a description of this ancient city of the United Provinces is due to you. In dwelling on its admirable position, its growing prosperity, and its probable grandeur, I wish to excite neither your hopes, nor your regrets, I have seen enough of this country already, to know, that in losing the New-Netherlands Netherlands in their infancy, you only escaped the increased misfortune of having them wrested from your power by their own efforts at a more advanced period, when the struggle might have cost you, like that which England has borne, and Spain still suffers—an incalculable expenditure of men and money. You are thrice happy that your dominion in this quarter of America did not endure long enough to leave, in its train, any mortifying and exasperating recollections, The Dutch are still remembered here with a feeling strongly allied to affinity, by thousands of their descendants, who if, among their more restless and bustling compatriots of the east, they are not distinguished for the great enterprise which is peculiar
The name of the town, itself, is far from being happy, The place stands on a long narrow island, called Manhattan, a native appellation which should have been perpetuated through that of the city. There was a precedent for innovation which might have been followed to advantage. It is a little surprising that these republicans, who are not guiltless of sundry absurd changes in their nomenclature of streets, squares, counties, and towns, should have neglected the opportunity of the Revolution, not only to deprive the royal family of England of the honour of giving a name to both their principal State and principal town, but to restore a word so sonorous, and which admits of so many happy variations as the appellation of this island. A “Manhattanese” has certainly a more poetical sound than a “New-Yorker;” and there is an euphony in the phrase of “Men of Manhattan” that the lovers of alliteration may long sigh in vain to hear equalled by any transposition of the present unmusical and complex term. Nor would the adoption of a new name be attended with half of the evils in the case of a city or a country, as in that of a street or a market, since the very notoriety and importance of the alteration would serve to apprise all men of the circumstance. But a century and a half have confirmed the present title; and while the city of the white rose has been mouldering in provincial quiet, her western god-child has been growing into an importance that is likely to carry the name to that distant period when the struggles of the adverse factions shall be lost in the obscurity of time, or be matter of vague and remote history.
A nation as commercial and active as this has only fairly to elect the position of its favourite marl to put it on a level with the chief places of the earth, London and Paris, Vienna, Rome, Carthage, and, for any thing we know, Pekin and Nankin, can refer the causes of their greatness to little beside accident or caprice. The same might be said of hundreds more of the principal places of antiquity, or of our own times. But it is only necessary to sit down with a minute map of the country before you, to perceive, at a glance, that Nature herself has intended the island of Manhattan for the site of one of the greatest commercial towns in the world. The spirit of its possessors is not likely to balk this intention, and it may be truly said, that the agents, both physical and moral, are in the happiest possible unison to accomplish the mighty plan. Although all description must fail to give a clear idea of the advantages of such a position, yet, as your imagination may be somewhat aided by one as imperfect as that must necessarily be which comes from my pen, it shall be attempted after my own desultory and irregular manner
You must have obtained, through my letters, some general impression concerning the two great bays which lie between New-York and the ocean. The former, you will recollect, is known by the name of “Raritan,” and the latter forms what is properly called the “Harbour.” Raritan Bay is an extensive roadstead, abounding with situations where vessels may be partially protected from every wind that blows. It is, in fact, only open to the sea on the east; but, by the aid of the low sandy cape I have mentioned, shelter can be had in it against the heaviest gales from that quarter, as it may also be found in some one of its many anchoring grounds, against the wind from every other point of the compass. The harbour is still more secure; a vessel being entirely
The time has not yet come for the formation of massive, permanent quays in the harbour of New-York. Wood is still too cheap, and labour too dear, for so heavy an investment of capital. All the wharfs of New-York are of very simple construction. A frame-work of hewn logs is filled with loose stone, and covered with a surface of trodden earth. This species of quay, if durability be Put out of the question,
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The yellow fever is certainly the only drawback on the otherwise unrivalled commercial position of New-York; but the hazard of this disease is greatly magnified in Europe. The inhabitants of the place appear to have but little dread on the subject, and past experience would seem, in a great measure, to justify their indifference. So far as I can learn, there never have been but three or four summers when that fatal malady has committed any very serious ravages in this latitude. These seasons occurred at the close of the last, and at the commencement of the present century. Since the year 1804, there have been but two autumns when the yellow fever has existed to any dangerous degree in New-York, and neither of them proved very fatal, though it is certain that the arrangements of the city were excessively inconvenienced by its appearance. I believe it is admitted by scientific men, that this dangerous malady, though it is always characterized by certain infallible symptoms, often exhibits itself under forms so very-much modified as to render different treatments necessary
The wharfs of New-York form a succession of little basins, which are sometimes large enough to admit thirty or forty sail, though often much smaller. These irregular docks have obtained the name of “slips.’ One of the former was shown me that was particularly foul and offensive. Around this slip, at the close of the hot weather in 1819, the yellow fever made its appearance. A few individuals became its victims before the existence of the danger was fully established. The city authorities took prompt and happy measures for its suppression. The question of contagion or of non-contagion had long been hotly contested among the medical men, and a sort of middle course, between the precautions inculcated by the two theories, had begun to be practised. So soon as it was found how far the disease extended, (and its limits were inconceivably small,) the inhabitants were all removed, and the streets were fenced, in order to prevent access to what was proclaimed by authority to be “the infected district.” The sick were conveyed into other quarters of the town, or to the country, some dying and others recovering. When the removal was made in time, or when the disease did not make its appearance until after the patient had experienced the benefit of pure air, the malady was generally more mild, though still often fatal. No one took the disease by contagion, it being affirmed that every case that occurred could be distinctly traced to “the infected district.” The taint, corruption, or animalculæ in the air, whichever the cause of the malady might be, gradually spread, until it was found necessary to extend the limits of “the infected district” in every direction. I am told that thousands remained in their dwellings, within musket-shot
A lady of fortune had retired to the country on the first appearance of the fever. The house she left, stood a few hundred feet beyond the limits of the “infected district.” Her son had occasion to visit this dwelling, which he did without scruple, since the guardians of the city were thought to be on the alert, and hundreds were still residing between the house and the known limits of the disease. On the return of the young gentleman to the country he was seized with the fever, but happily recovered. The fortune and connexions of the youth gave notoriety to his case, and the fences were removed under the impression that the danger was spreading. After his recovery, however, Mr.—acknowledged that, led by his curiosity, he had gone to the fence the day he was in town, where he stood for some time contemplating the solitude of the deserted streets. My informant, who could be a little waggish even on this grave subject, added, that some pretended that thethrough
an opening in the fence. He, however, gave credit to the story in its substance,
The malady rarely appears before the last of August, and has invariably disappeared with the first frosts, which are commonly felt here in October. The fever of 1822 caused much less alarm than that of 1819, though the infected district was far more extensive, and occupied a part of the city that was supposed to be more healthy. But experience had shown that the disorder has its limits, and that its march is slow and easily avoided. The merchants estimate the danger of the fever in this climate at a very low rate; and, perhaps, like the plague, or those fatal diseases which have ravaged London, and other towns in the centre of Europe, it will soon cease to create uneasiness at all.
I have endeavoured to glean all the interesting facts in my power concerning this disease, from men of intelligence, who have not, like the physicians, enlisted themselves in favour of one or the other of the conflicting theories of contagion or non-contagion, importation or non-importation. It appears to be admitted all round, that the disorder cannot be contracted in a pure atmosphere. If the circumstances I have heard be true, and from the authority I cannot doubt their being so, it seems also to be a nearly inevitable conclusion, that the disease is never generated in this climate. This, however, is a knotty point, and one that covers much of the grounds of disagreement. That a certain degree and concentration of heat is necessary for the appearance of the yellow fever, is a fact very generally admitted. There is a common opinion that it has never been known in New-York, except in summers when the thermometer has stood something above 80 for a given number of days in succession. And yet the temperature
But admitting the evil in its fullest extent, it is but a trifling blot on the otherwise high pretensions of the place. Time, and a better regulated police, will serve to remedy much greater evils than this. In order to view the city in its proper light, it must be considered in connexion with those circumstances which are fast giving to it the character of the great mart of the western, hemisphere.
By referring to the description already given, you will find that the New-York possesses the advantages of a capacious and excellent roadstead, a vast harbour, an unusually extensive natural basin, with two outlets to the sea, and a river that, in itself, might contain all the shipping of the earth. By means of the Sound, and its tributary waters, it has the closest connexion with the adjoining State of Connecticut; and, through the ajacent bays, small vessels penetrate
New-York stands central between the commerce of the north and that of the south. It is the first practicable port, at all seasons of the year, after you quit the mouth of the Chesapeake, going northward. It lies in the angle formed by the coast, and where the courses to Europe, to the West Indies, or to the Southern Atlantic, can be made direct. The ship from Virginia, or Louisiana, commonly passes within a day's sail of New-York, on its way to Europe, and the coaster from Boston frequently stops at the wharfs of this city to deposit part of its freight before proceeding further south.
Now, one so conversant with the world as yourself, need not be reminded that in every great commercial community there is a tendency to create a common mart, where exchanges can be regulated, loans effected, cargoes vended in gross, and all other things connected with trade, transacted on a scale commensurate
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and advantage of being the capital of the Union. Boston and Baltimore are both seaports of extensive connexions, and of great and enlightened enterprise. Against this serious competition, however, New-York struggled with success; gradually obtaining the superiority in tonnage and inhabitants, until within a few years, when opposition silently yielded to the force of circumstances, and those towns which, had so long been rivals became auxiliaries to her aggrandizement. All this is perfectly in the natural course of things, though I find that a lingering of the ancient jealousy still tempts many of the merchants of the other towns to nscribe the ascendancy of New-York to any cause but the right one. Among other things, the establishment of those numerous lines of packets, to which I have alluded in a previous letter, is thought to have had an influence on her progress. It appears to me that this is mistaking the effect for the cause. If I am rightly informed, the merchant of Boston already sends his ship here for freight; frequently sells his cargo under the hammer of the New-York auctioneer to his own neighbour, and buys a new one to send to to some distant part of the world, without from the commencement of the year to its close, the
The consequences of its rapid growth, and the extraordinary medley of which its population is composed, serve to give something of a peculiar character to New-York. Cadwallader tells me that, with perhaps the exception of New-Orleans, it is the only city in the Union that has not the air of a provincial town. For my own part, I have found in it such a
melange
of customs, nations, society, and manners, all tempered, without being destroyed, by the institutions and opinions of the country, that I despair of conveying a correct idea of either by description. We shall have more definite data in speaking of its unprecedented growth.
In 1756, the city of New-York contained 13,000 souls; in 1790, 33,000; in 1800, 60,000; in 1810,
By the foregoing statement, you will see that, while the growth of New-York has been rather regular than otherwise, its population has doubled within the last thirty-five years nearly at the rate of once in fifteen years. Between 1790 and 1800, the comparative increase was the greatest. This was probably owing to the fact that it was the moment when the peculiar situation of the world gave an extraordinary impulse to the American commerce. Between 1800 and 1820, were felt the effects of a highly thriving trade, the re-action of embargoes, non-intercourse and war, and the relative stagnation attendant on the return of business to its more natural channels, The extraordinary increase in the last five years, during a period of ordinary commerce, is, I think, to be imputed to the accessions obtained by the silent acquiescence of her rivals in the future supremacy of this town as the great mart of the nation. To what height, or how long this latter cause may serve to push the accumulation of New-York beyond what would be its natural growth, exceeds my ability to estimate. Though it may receive cheeks from the variety of causes which affect all prosperity, it will probably be some years before the influence of this revolution in opinion shall entirely cease; after which period, the growth of the city must be more regular, though always in proportion to the infant vigour of the whole country.
“ It is supposed to contain about 200,000 at the present moment.
It is a curious calculation, and one in which the Americans very naturally love to indulge, to estimate the importance of this place at no very distant day. If the rate of increase for the last thirty-five years (or the whole period when the present institutions of the country have had an influence on its advancement) is to be taken as a guide for the future, the city of New-York will contain about 900,000 souls in the year 1860. Prodigious as this estimate may at first seem, it can be supported by arguments of a weight and truth of which you are most probably ignorant. Notwithstanding the buoyant character of this nation's prosperity, and the well-known fact that the growth of towns is by no means subject to the same general laws as that of countries, were it not for one circumstance, I should scarcely presume to hazard a calculation which wears the air of extravagance by its very amount, since, by merely adding another fifteen years, you have the largest town in christendom as the reward of your addition. But, in point of fact, in order to keep pace with the progress of things in this extraordinary country, something like that which elsewhere might be termed extravagance of anticipation becomes absolutely necessary. Although the ideas of my companion are reasonably regulated by an extensive acquaintance with the eastern hemisphere, I confess I have been startled with the entire gravity with which he sometimes speaks of the power of the United States; not as an event to affect the fortunes of future ages, but as a thing that would be operative in the time of our own children, dear Baron, had not our egotistical habits left us without the hope of living in those who come after us. But when he paused this morning in our promenade through the Broadway, a noble street that runs for two miles through the heart of the place, and pointed out the limits of the city, as he himself had known them in his boyhood, and then
M 2
The circumstance to which this town is to be indebted for most of its future greatness, is the immense and unprecedented range of interior which, by a bold and noble effort of policy, has recently been made tributary to its interests. By examining the map of the United States, you can easily make yourself master of all the facts necessary to a perfect understanding of what I mean. The river Hudson runs northward from New-York for the distance of about two hundred miles. It is navigable for large sloops to Waterford, a place that is situated near the junction of the Mohawk with the former river, and at a distance a little exceeding one hundred and fifty miles from this city. Sixty miles further north brings one to the head of Lake Champlain, which separates Vermont from New-York, and communicates with the St. Lawrence by means of a navigable outlet. By following the route of the Mohawk westward, you pass directly through the heart of this flourishing state, until you reach a place called Rome, whence the country to Lake Erie was found to be perfectly practicable for water communication. Once in Lake Erie, it is possible to extend a domestic trade, by means of those little inland, fresh-water seas, through a fertile and rapidly growing country, for a distance of near or quite fifteen hundred miles further. As if this were not enough, Nature has placed the head waters of the Mississippi so near the navigable tributaries of the lakes Michigan, Superior, and Erie, that there is nothing visionary in predicting that artificial communication will soon bring them into absolute contact.
It is a matter of dispute with whom the bold idea of connecting the waters of the lakes with those of the Hudson originated. The fact will probably never be known, since the thoughts of one may have been quickened by those of another, the speculations of each successor enlarging on those of him who went before, until the plaint of some Indian that nature had denied a passage to his canoe from the Mohawk into a stream of the lesser lakes, has probably given birth to them all. But there can be no question as to the individual, who, in a government so particularly cautious of its expenditures, has dared to stake his political fortunes on the success of the hazardous undertaking. Mr. Clinton, the present Governor of this State, is the only highly responsible political man who can justly lay claim to be the parent of the project. For many years, I am told, he was persecuted as a visionary projector, and it was clear that his downfall was to be the penalty of failure; though now that success is certain, or rather realized, there are hundreds ready to depreciate his merits, and not a few willing to share in all his honours. But these are no more than the detractions which are known every where to sully the brightness of a new reputation. Time will remove them all, since posterity never fails to restore with interest that portion of fame which is temporarily abstracted by the envy or the hostility of contemporaries.
The plan has been to reject the use of all the rivers, except as feeders, and to make two canals, one from the Lake Champlain, and the other from the Lake Erie, which were to meet at the junction of the Mohawk and the Hudson, whence they are to proceed to Albany, and issue into the latter river. The former of these canals is about sixty miles in length, and the other three hundred and fifty. The
* 1828. It is now not only finished, but is so eminently successful, that it has given rise to a multitude of similar works, one of which, to connect the waters of the Ohio with Lake Erie, is already far advanced, and will open an inland water communication between New-York and New-Orleans, a distance of more than 2000 miles. The tolls on the Erie canal amounted the last year (1827) to 850,000 dollars, leaving a large surplus, after paying the interest on the money borrowed for its construction, and all charges of repairs, &c. &c.
Really, reflection on this subject is likely to derange the ideas of the gravest man. Imagine for instance, that Africa were a populous and civilized region; that Spain were peopled by an active and enlightened population; that their habits were highly commercial; and then assume that Gibraltar was not only one of the most noble, convenient, and safe ha vens of the world, but that, from its central position, it had secured an ascendancy in European trade. Remove all serious rivals which chance or industry had raised in the other parts of Europe, to the prosperity of this unrivalled mart, placing it already foremost among the cities of our hemisphere. Then, suppose the Mediterranean, with all its tributaries, a narrow, convenient river, having direct communication with vast lakes, whose banks were peopled by men of similar educations and opinions, wants and wishes, governed by the same policy, and subject to the same general laws, and I commit you to your own imaginative powers to fancy what the place would become in the space of a century.
With these views unavoidably before the eye, it is difficult to descend to the sober reality of existing things. I can now easily understand the perspective of American character. It is absolutely necessary to destroy thought, to repress it. I fear we owe a good
While a subject so great is intensely pressing itself on the mind, as it unavoidably must on that of every intelligent stranger who has sufficient philanthropy to regard with steadiness the prosperity of a people who may so soon be a formidable rival, it is difficult to descend to those more immaterial and evanescent customs and appearances that mark the condition of the present hour. Still they are of importance as they may influence the future, and are not without interest by their peculiarities and national characteristics.
In construction, New-York embraces every variety of house, between that of the second-rate English town-residence, and those temporary Wooden tenements that are seen in the skirts of most large cities. I do not think, however, that those absolutely miserable, filthy abodes which are often seen in Europe, abound here. The houses of the poor are not indeed large, like those in which families on the continent are piled on one another for six or seven stories, but they are rarely old and tottering; for the growth of the place, which, by its insular situation, is confined to one direction, forces them out of existence before they have had time to decay. I have been told, and I think it probable, that there are not five hundred buildings in New-York, that can date further back than the peace of '83. A few old Dutch dwellings yet remain, and can easily be distinguished by their
Although poverty has no permanent abode, yet New-York has its distinct quarters. I think they are sufficiently known and understood. Commerce is gradually taking possession of the whole of the lower extremity of the island, though the bay, the battery, and the charming Broadway, still cause many of the affluent to depart with reluctance. The fashion of the place is gradually collecting on the highest and healthiest point of land, where its votaries may be equally removed from the bustle of the two rivers (for the strait is strangely enough called a river), while other portions are devoted to the labouring classes, manufacturers, and the thousand pursuits of a seaport.
In outward appearance, New-York, but for two things, would resemble a part of London that should include fair proportions of Westminster (without the great houses and recent improvements), the city, and Wapping. The points of difference are owing to the fact that, probably without an exception, the exterior of all the houses are painted, and that there is scarce a street in the place which is not more or less lined With trees. The former fashion, unquestionably derived from your countrymen, gives the town a lively and cheerful air, for Which I was a long time puzzled to account, At first I imputed it to the brightness of the atmosphere, which differs but little from that of Italy; and then I thought it might be owing to the general animation and life that pervaded all the principal streets. Cadwallader explained the causes, and added, that the custom was nearly peculiar (with the exception of wooden buildings) to the towns in the ancient colony of the United Provinces. The common
The principal edifice is the City Hall, a building in which the courts are held, the city authorities assemble, and the public offices are kept. This building is oddly enough composed of two sorts of stone, which impairs its simplicity, and gives it a patched and party-coloured appearance. Neither is its
facade
in good taste, being too much in detail, a fault the ancients were not fond of committing. Notwithstanding these glaring defects, by aid of its material, a clear white marble, and the admirable atmosphere, it at first strikes one more agreeably than many a better edifice. Its rear is of a deep red, dullish freestone and in a far better taste. It is not unlike the
facade
of the
Hotel des Monnaics
at Paris; though not quite so large, more wrought, and I think something handsomer.
The moment the rear of the City Hall was seen, I was struck with an impression of the magnificent effect which might be produced by the use of its material in Gothic architecture. It seems to me to be the precise colour that good taste would select for the style, and the stone possesses the advantage of being easily worked, and is far less fragile than the common building materials of the vicinity of Paris. While the modern Gothic is much condemned, every body appears willing to admit that it is the most imposing style for churches, I can see no reason why that which every body likes should not be done; and nothing is easier than to omit those horrible images and excrescences which we should not tolerate in the finest cathedrals of Europe, if they did not furnish
New-York is rich in churches, if number alone be considered. I saw more than a dozen in the process of construction, and there is scarce a street of any magnitude that does not possess one. There must be at least a hundred, and there may be many more. But in a country where the state does not meddle with religion, one is not to look for much splendour in its religious edifices. Private munificence cannot equal the expenditures of a community. Besides, I am told it is a laudable practice of the rich in this country, instead of concentrating their efforts to rear up one magnificent monument of their liberality, to bestow sufficient to meet the wants of a particular parish in a style suited to its character, and then to give, freely, aid to some other congregation of their faith that may be struggling into existence, perhaps, in a distant part of the country. Indeed, instances are said to be frequent, in which affluent men contribute cheerfully and liberally to assist in the erection of churches of a persuasion different from their own. You are to recollect that a territory large as a third of Europe, has to be furnished with places of worship by a population which does not exceed that of Prussia, and that too by voluntary contributions. In estimating that has been done in America in all things, it is absolutely necessary to do justice, and for a right understanding of the case, to remember the time, the means, and the amount that was to be executed. An honest consideration of these material points can alone show the true character of the country For my own part, when I reflect on the extended division of the inhabitants, and on the absolute necessity of so much of their efforts being expended in meeting the first wants of civilized life, I am astonished to find how much they have done to embellish and improve it Under this view of the subject, though
Whatever you may have heard concerning neglect of religion on this side of the water, so far as the portion of the country I have seen is concerned, disbelieve. It is the language of malice and not of truth. So far as the human eye can judge, there is at least as much respect paid to religion in the northern and middle States, as in any part of the world I have ever visited. Were the religion of Europe to be stripped of its externals, and to lose that deference which the influence of the state and of the clergy produces, among a poor who are so dependant; in short, were man left to himself, or subject only to the impulses of public opinion, and the influence of voluntary instruction, as here, I am persuaded it would be found that there is vastly more. There is much cant, and much abuse of cant, in America, just as elsewhese; but I have been in numberless churches here; watched the people in their ingress and egress; have examined the crowd of
men
no less than of women, that followed the summons of the parish bell; and, in fine, have studied all their habits on those points which the conscience may be supposed to influence, and, taking town and country together, I should not know where to turn
Vol. I. N
My paper is exhausted, and I shall refer you to the colonel, whom I know you are to meet at Palermo, for a continuation of the subject on some of those branches in which his nicer tact may find peculiar sources of interest.—Adieu.
New-York,—
A man
who has revelled so often on the delicacies of Vcry and Robert; who has so long flourished with éclat in the saloons of the modern queen of cities, who has sickened his taste under the arches of the Coliseum, or on the heights of the Acropolis, and who must have often cast a glance at that jewel of architecture, the Bourse of Paris, as he has hurried into its din to learn the fate of his last investment in the three per cents of M. de Villele, may possibly turn with disdain from a description of the inartificial beauties of nature, a republican drawing-room, or apaté de foie gras
, without so much as begrudging you a mouthful of the unctuous morsel, though it were even the last. Presuming on this often tried, and seemingly inexhaustible patience, I shall proceed to trespass on your more elevated pursuits in the shape of one of my desultory accounts of the manners and mode of life of the grave burghers of New-York.
I may say openly to you, what consideration for the national pride of Kemperfelt may have suppressed in my letters to him, that very little of its former usages can now be traced in the ancient capital of the New-Netherlands. One hears certain sonorous names in the streets to remind him of the original colony, it is true, but with these rare memorials of the fact, and a few angular, sidelong edifices, that resemble broken fragments of prismatic ice, there is no other passing evidence of its former existence. I have elsewhere said that the city of New-York is composed of inhabitants from all the countries of christendom. Beyond a doubt, a very large majority, perhaps nine-tenths, are natives of the United States; but it is not probable that one-third who live here first saw the light on the island of Manhattan. It is computed that one in three are either natives of New-England, or are descendants of those who have emigrated from that portion of the country. To these must be added the successors of the Dutch, the English, the French, the Scotch and the Irish, and not a few who came in their proper persons from the countries occupied by these several nations. In the midst of such a mélange of customs and people.
To commence
aborigine
, I shall speak of the products of nature, which, if endowed with suitable capabilities, rarely fail of favour in your eyes. I know no spot of the habitable world to which the culinary sceptre is so likely to be transferred, when the art shall begin to decline in your own renowned capital, as this city. It is difficult to name fish, fowl, or beast that is not, either in its proper person, or in some species nearly allied to it, to be obtained in the markets of New-York. The exceptions that do certainly occur, are more than balanced by the animals that are peculiar to the country. Of fish alone, a gentleman here, of a spirit not uncongenial to your own, has named between seventy and eighty varieties, all of which are edible; most of which are excellent; and some of which it would be the pride of my heart to see placed within the control of your scientific skill. Of fowls there is a rare and admirable collection! I have had a list nearly, or quite as long as the catalogue of fishes placed before me, and it would do your digestive powers good to hear some of the semi-barbarous epicures of this provincial town expatiate on the merits of grouse, canvas-backs, brants, plover, wild turkeys, and all the et cœteras of the collection
Of the fruits I can speak of my own knowledge. The situation of New-York is singularly felicitous in this respect. In consequence of the great range of the thermometer, there is scarce a fruit which will endure the frost that is not found in a state nearly approaching to perfection. Indeed, either owing to the freshness of the soil, or the genial influence of the sun, or to both, there is an extraordinary flavour imparted to most of the animal and vegetable food which have tasted. Cadwallader reasons on the subject in this manner, assuming, what I believe to be true, that most of the meats, no less than the fruits, possess
N 2all
the herbage, whereas, in America, the animal is usually allowed to make its choice, and that, too, often amid such a delicious odour of the white or natural clover of the country, as might cause even a miserable victim of the anger of Djezzar Pacha momentarily to forget his nasal dilapidation. I wish now to be understood as speaking literally, and not in those terms of exaggeration which are perhaps appropriate to the glories of a well-ordered banquet. I scarce remember any fragrance equal to that I have scented in the midst of a field of this clover. My companion tells me he was first made sensible of this peculiarity in the herbage of his native country, by remarking how comparatively devoid of scent was a field of buckwheat, by the side of which he was once walking in the centre of France. Now, buckwheat in this climate is a plant that exhales a delicious odour that is often to be scented at the distance of a quarter of a mile. In short, so far as my own observation has extended, the sun imparts a flavour to every grass, plant, or fruit here, that must be tasted, and tasted with discrimination, in order to be appreciated. Yet man has done but little to improve these inestimable advantages. There is no extraordinary show of fruits in the public market-places. Peaches, cherries, melons, and a few others of the common sorts, it is true, abound; but the Americans appear not to be disposed to make much sacrifice of time, or money, to the cultivation of the rarer sorts.
I cannot close this subject, however, without making one remark on the nature of a peculiar difference that I have noticed between the fruits of this country, and those of your own capital in particular. A French peach is juicy, and, when you first bring it in contact with your palate, sweet, but it leaves behind it a cold, watery, and almost sour taste. It is for thisbouquet
of a glass of
Romanée.
You who, as a Parisian, say so much for, and think so much of, your gôut, may be disposed to be incredulous when I tell you these people would positively reject the best melon that ever appears on your table. There is a little one to be picked up in the markets here for a few sous, say twelve at the utmost, that exceeds any thing, of its kind, that I have ever admitted into the sanctuary of my mouth. I want terms to describe it. It is firm, and yet tender; juicy, without a particle of the cold, watery taste we know, and of an incomparable flavour and sweetness. Its equal can only found in the Crimea, or the adjacent parts of Turkey, and perhaps of Persia. The Americans admit that it is only melon that can appear on the table of one who understands the difference between eating and tasting, and to me it seems to have been especially created for an epicure. In the gardens of the gentlemen you find not only a greater but, a few common fruits excepted, far better quality than in the markets. I have tasted a great many old acquaintances, transplanted from the to the western hemisphere, and I declare I do not remember one that has not been benefited by the change, in flavour, though not always in appearance. It is a standing joke of Cadwallader to say his countrymen consult the substance much more than the shadow, when I venture to qualify my praises by some remark on externals. I remember, however, one day he effectually silenced my criticism, by leading me to a peach-tree that grew in the shade of an adjacent building. The fruit was beautiful exceedingly large, and without a blemish. Culling one of
And yet I have met, during my short residence in America, Europeans who have affected to rail at, or even to deny the existence of her fruits! I have always wished, on such occasions, that I could transport the products of one of the laboured gardens of our hemisphere into this, and set them to culling without a knowledge of the transfer. My life on it, their own palates would contradict their assertions in the first five minutes.
Indeed, one has only to remember that the United States extend from forty-five to twenty-five of latitude, to see that Nature has placed their dominions in the very centre of her most favoured regions. There is, too, a peculiarity of climate here, which is unknown to similar parallels of latitude in Europe. The apple and the peach are found in perfection, side by side; and in such a perfection too, as, believe me, dear colonel, you must seek for the equal of the one in Italy, and that of the other, I scarcely know where.
Owing to the facility, and constancy of intercourse with the Southern States, the fruits of the tropics are found here, not quite as fresh, certainly, as when first culled from the plant itself, but well flavoured, and in absolute contact with the products of the temperate zones. Pine-apples, large, rich, golden, and good, are sold from twelve to twenty-five sous; delicious oranges are hawked in the streets, much cheaper than a tolerable apple can be bought in the shops of Paris, and bannanas, yams, water-melons, &c., common as need be in the markets. It is this extraordinary combination of the effects of different climates,
Passing from the means of gratification possessed by these people, we will turn our attention, for a moment, to the manner in which they are improved. The style of living of all the Americans, in the Northern States, is essentially English. As might be expected in a country where labour is comparatively high, and the fortunes, though great, still not often so princely as in the mother country, the upper classes live in a more simple form, wanting some of the most refined improvements of high English life, and yet, indulging, under favour of their climate, situation and great commercial freedom, in perhaps a greater combination of luxury and comfort than any other people of the world. In respect of comfort itself, there is scarce any known in England, that is not to be found here; the point of difference is in its frequency. You are, therefore, to deduct rather in the amount of English comfort, than in its quality and you are not to descend far below the refinements at all, since all the substantials of that comfort which makes England so remarkable in Europe, are to be found equally in America. There are points, perhaps, even in the latter, in which the Englishman (rarely very much disposed to complacency) would complain in America; and there are, certainly, others on which the American (who has a cast of the family likeness) would boldly vent his spleen in England. I am of opinion the two nations might benefit a good
After you descend below the middle classes in society, there is no comparison to be drawn between the condition of the American and that of the native of Englands or of any other place. I have seen misery here, it is true, and filth, and squalid, abject poverty, always in the cities, however; but it is rare; that is, rare indeed to what I have been accustomed to see in Europe. At first, I confess there was a feeling of disappointment came over me at seeing it at all; but reflection convinced me of the impossibility of literally bringing all men to a state in which they might profit by the advantages of their condition. Cadwallader, also, who has a silent, significant manner of conveying truths, has undeceived me more than once when I have been on the very threshold of an error. I remember that one day, while I stood contemplating, in the suburbs of this city, a scene of misery that one might not have expected to witness out of Europe, he advanced to the door of the dreary hovel I gazed at; and asked the inhabitants how long they had resided in America. The answer proved that he had not deceived himself as to the birth-place of its luckless tenants. In this manner, in more than a dozen instances, he has proved that his own country has not given birth to the vice and idleness which here could alone entail such want. In perhaps as many more instances he has passed on, shaking his head at my request that he would examine the causes, admitting frankly that he saw the subjects were natives. It is astonishing how accurate his eye is in making this distinction. I do hot know that he has been deceived in a solitary instance.
* Cadwallader related a little anecdote which goes to prove the danger of hasty conclusions. Shortly after the war, an English naval captain visited an estate of which he was the proprietor in the State of New-York. He had occasion to get his carriage repaired in a village of the interior. My friend found him railing at the addiction of the Americans to the vice of intoxication. He had been to three mechanics that morning, to hasten the work, and two of them were too drunk to execute his orders. Cadwallader demanded the names of the two delinquents; both of whom proved to be countrymen of the captain, while the only native American was a sober individual. The fact is, the poor of Europe, when they find themselves transplanted into the abundance of America are exceedingly apt to abuse the advantage. The Scotch, the Swiss, the French, and the Germans, are said to be the most prudent, and the Irish and the English the most indiscreet. With the latter it often happens that the vice we speak of is the actual cause of their emigration
There is something exceedingly attractive n the exhibition of neatness and domestic comfort which one sees throughout this country. I think the bril liancy of the climate, the freshness of the paint, and the exterior ornaments of the houses, contribute to the charm. There is a species of second-rate, genteel houses, that abound in New-York, into which I have looked when passing, with the utmost pleasure. They have, as usual, a story that is half sunk in the earth, receiving light from an area, and two floors above. The tenants of these buildings are chiefly merchants, or professional men, in moderate circumstances, who pay rents of from 300 to 500 dollars a year. You know that no American, who is at all comfortable in life, will share his dwelling with another. Each has his own roof, and his own little yard. These buildings are finished, and exceedingly well finished too, to the attics, containing, on the
But there are hundreds, I believe I might almost say a thousand, houses in New-York of pretensions altogether superior to those just named. A particular description of one belonging to a friend of Cadwallader, by whose favour I was permitted to examine it, may serve to give you an idea of the whole of its class. The proprietor is a gentleman of the first society of the country, and of what is here called an easy fortune,
The dwelling of Mr.—is on the Broadway, one of the principal streets, that runs on the height of land along the centre of the island, for the distance of about two miles. It is the fashionable mall of the city, and certainly, for gaiety, the beauty and grace of the beings who throng it, and, above all, the glorious sun that seems to reign here three days out of four, it may safely challenge competition with most if not any of the promenades of the old world. The house in question occupies, I should think, a front of about thirty-four feet on the Broadway, and extends into the rear between sixty and seventy more. There are no additions, the building ascending from the ground to its attics in the same proportions. The exterior necessarily present a narrows, ill-arranged facade, that puts architectural beauty a good deal at defiance. The most that can be done with such a front is to abstain from inappropriate ornament, and to aim at such an effect as shall convey a proper idea of the more substantial comforts, and of the neatness that predominate within. The building is of bricks, painted and lined, as already described, and modestly ornamented, in a very good taste with caps, sills, cornices, &c. &c. in the dark red freestone of the country. The house is of four stories; the lower, or
* The President of the United States.rez de chaussée
, being half sunk, as is very usual, below the surface of the ground, and the three upper possessing elevations well proportioned to the height of the edifice. The door is at one of the corners of the front, and is nearly on a level with the windows of the first floor, which may commence at the distance of about a dozen feet above the pavement of the street. To reach this door, it is necessary to mount a flight of steep, inconvenient steps, also in freestone, which compensate, in a slight degree, for the pain of
Vol. I. O
salle à manger
as plain as that in which a French duke usually takes his repast would not think his host a man who sufficiently, un derstood the fitness of things, I have heard it said, that the occupant of the White House
You ascend, by means of the stairs at the end of the passage, into what is here called the second story, but which, from the equivocal character of the basement, it is difficult to name correctly. This ascent is necessarily narrow, crowded, and inconvenient. The beautiful railings in mahogany and brass, and the admirable neatness of every part of an American house of any pretension, would serve to reconcile one to a thousand defects. As respects this cardinal point, I think there is little difference between the English and the Americans, at least, so far as I have yet seen the latter; but the glorious sun of this climate illumines every thing to such a degree, as to lend a quality of brightness that is rarely known in Britain. You know that a diamond will hardly glitter in London. It must also be remembered that an American house is kept in this order by the aid of perhaps one third of the domestics that would be employed in the mother country.
On the second floor (or perhaps you will get a better idea if I call it the first) of the house of Mr.—, there is a spacious saloon, which occupies the whole width of the building, and possesses a corresponding breadth. This apartment, being exclusively that of the mistress of the mansion, is furnished with rather more delicacy than those below. The curtains are in blue India damask, the chairs and sofa of the same coloured silk, and other things are made to correspond. The library of the husband is on the same floor, and between the two there is a room used as a bed-chamber. The third story is appropriated to the sleeping-rooms of the family; the attic to the same purpose for the servants, and the basement contains a nursery and the usual offices. The whole building is finished with great neatness, and with a
I have been thus minute in my account, because in describing the house of Mr.—, I am persuaded that I convey a general idea of those of all of the upper classes in the northern section of this country. There are, certainly, much larger and more pretending buildings than his in New-York, and many far richer and more highly wrought; but this is the habitation of an American in the very best society, who is in easy circumstances, of extensive and high connexions, and who receives a fair proportion of his acquaintances. By extending the building a little, adding something to the richness of the furniture, and now and then going as far as two or three cabinet pictures, you will embrace the establishments of the most affluent; and by curtailing the whole, perhaps, to the same degree, you will include an immense majority of all that part of the community who can lay claim to belong to the class of
les gens comme il faul.
It is here, as elsewhere, a fact that the par-venus are commonly the most lavish in their expenditures, either because money is a novelty, or, what is more probably the case, because they find it necessary to purchase consideration by its liberal use. We will now quit this dwelling, in which I am fond of acknowledging that I have been received with the most kind and polished hospitality, by its execrable flight of steps, and descend into the street.
The New-Yorkers (how much better is the word Manhattanese!) cherish the clumsy inconvenient entrances, I believe, as heir-looms of their Dutch progenitors. They are called “stoops,” a word of whose
O 2
You will see, by the foregoing description, that the family of an American gentleman in town, though not always so conveniently, is on the whole about as well lodged as the great majority of the similar class in your own country. The house of Mr.—contains, including three capacious saloons, ten considerable rooms, besides offices, and servants' chambers. The deficiency is in the dining-room, in the inconvenience of the narrow stairs, and in the bad division of the principal apartments on the different floors; a fault that arises from the original construction of the building. Though the ornaments are in general more simple, the Americans have in very many things a great advantage. Profiting by their nearly unshackled commerce, they import any thing they choose, and adopt, or reject its use, as fancy dictates. Almost every article of foreign industry can be purchased here at a very small advance on the original cost, and in many instances even cheaper. Competition is so active, and information so universal, and so rapidly imparted, that a monopoly can hardly exist for a week, and a glut is far more common than a scarcity.
You will also see by what I have written, that the Americans have not yet adopted a style of architecture of their own. Their houses are still essentially English, though neither the winters nor the summers of their climate would seem to recommend them.cabinets de toilette.
They are certainly to be found in a few houses, but 1 have occupied a bed-room five and twenty feet square, in a house, otherwise convenient, that had not under its roof a single apartment of the sort. This is truly a sad prodigality of room, though space be unquestionably so very desirable in a warm climate.
I should think about the same proportion of the inhabitants keep carriages here as in France. But the ordinary coaches of the stands in New-York are quite as good, and often far better than those
voitures de remise
that one usually gets by the day in Paris. There is even a still better class of coaches to be ordered by the day, or hour, from the stables, which are much used by the inhabitants. The equipages of this city, with the exception of liveries, and heraldic blazonries, are very much like those of your own mighty capital. When I first landed, coming as I did from England, I thought the coaches so exceedingly light as to be mean; but, too experienced a
New-York,—
It
may be premature to pretend to speak with any certainty concerning the true state of ordinary American society. My opinions have already undergone two or three revolutions on the subject, for it is so easy, where no acknowledged distinctions prevail, for a stranger to glide imperceptibly from one circle to another, that the impressions they leave are very aptmis
pronouncing a word, for even perverting its meaning, for being polite, and what is still more strange, sometimes for being rude and vulgar. Any one who has lived twenty years, may recall a multitude of changes that have occurred in the most cherished usages of what is called good-breeding. Now, there must be a reason for all this whimsical absurdity. Is it not owing to the peculiarly vacillating nature of her aristocracy?
If like causes are always to produce like effects, the day may come when the same reasons shall induce the American fashionables of two generations to lead the fashionables of one, a similar wild-goose chase in quest of the
ne plus ultra
of elegance. As the fact now stands, the accessions to the
coteries
are so very numerous, and are commonly made with strides so rapid, that it is as yet, fortunately, more likely to give distinction to be rationally polite, than genteelly, vulgar.
Of one truth, however, I am firmly persuaded, that nineteen out of twenty of the strangers who visit this country, can give no correct analysis of the manners which prevail in the different circles that divide this, like all other great communities. The pursuits and the inclinations of the men bring them much oftener together than those of the women. It is therefore among the females that the nicer and more delicate shades of distinction are to be sought. The very prevalent
It would require the magical power which that renowned philanthropist, Mr. Owen, ascribes to his system, to destroy the influence of education, talents, money, or even of birth. They all, in fact, exist in America, just as they do with us, only modified, and in some degree curtailed.
You may perhaps be startled to hear of distinction conferred by birth among a people whose law deny it a single privilege or immunity. Even thousands of Americans themselves, who have scarcely descended into their own system farther than is absolutely requisite to acquire its general maxims, will stoutly maintain that it has no reality. I remember to have heard one of these generalizers characterize the folly of a young acquaintance by saying, with peculiar bitterness of tone, “he presumes on his being the son of—.” Now, if some portion of the consideration of the father were not transmissible to the descendant, the latter clearly could in no degree presume on his birth. It is fortunate here, as elsewhere, to be the child of a worthy, or even of an affluent parent. The goods of the latter descend, by process of law, to the offspring, and, by aid of public opinion, the son receives some portion of the renown that has been earned by the merit of the father. It is useless to dwell on those secret and deep-rooted feelings by which man, in all ages, and under every circumstance, has been willing to permit this hereditary reflection of character, in order to prove that human nature must have sway the in republics of North America, as in the monarchies of the east. A thousand example might be quoted to show that the influence of this sentiment of birth, (just so far as it is a
sentiment
and not a
prejudice
,cœteris paribus
, prevail in an application for the public favour, over a competitor who could urge no such additional claim; and the reason of the decision would be deemed satisfactory by the nation. No one would be hardy enough to deny, that, had Washington left a child, he would have passed through society, or even before the public, on a perfect equality with men similarly endowed, though not similarly born. Just as this hereditary advantage would be true in the case of a son of Washington, it is true, with a lessened effect, in those of other men. It would be weak and a vain, because an impracticable and an unwise attempt, in any people, to reject so sweet an incentive to virtue on the part of the parent, or so noble a motive of emulation on that of the child. It is enough for the most democratic opinions, that the feeling should be kept within the limits of reason. The community, in a government trammelled by so few factitious forms, always holds in its own power a sufficient check on the abuse of the privilege; and here, in fact, is to be found the true point of distinction, not only between the governments of this and other countries, but between the conditions of their ordinary society also. In America, while the claims of individuals are admitted, it is easy to satisfy, to weaken, or to lose them. It is not enough simply to be the son of a great man; in order to render it of essential advantage, some portion of his merit must become hereditary, or the claim had better be suppressed. Even an honourable name may become matter of reproach, since, when the public esteem is once forfeited, the recollection of the ancestor only serves to heighten the demerit of his delinquent child. There is no privileged rank under which he can
Vol. I. P
In society, the punishment of this unworthiness, though necessarily less imposing, is scarcely less direct and salutary. Nothing is easier than for a member of any circle to forfeit the privileges of caste. It is a fact highly creditable to the morals of this people, unless close observation and the opinions of Cadwallader greatly mislead me, that a circle confessedly inferior will not receive an outcast from one above it. The great qualifications for all are, moral essentials, the same. It is not pretended that all men, or even all women, in the United States, are exemplary in their habits, or that they live in a state of entire innocence, compared with that of their fellow-mortals elsewhere; but there is not a doubt that the tone of manners here requires the utmost seemliness of deportment; that suspicion even may become dangerous to a man, and is almost always fatal to a woman; and that as access to the circles is effected with less difficulty than with us, so, is the path of egress much more readily to be found.
There is a very summary way of accounting for these things, by saying that all this is no more than the result of a simple state of society, and that in the absence of luxury, and especially in a country where the population is scattered, the result is precisely that which was to be expected. Why then is not the tone of manners as high in South as in North America, or why are the moralists in the cities quite as fastidious, or even more so, than those on the most remote borders? The truth is, that neither the polity nor the manners of the Americans bear that recent origin we are wont to give them. Both have substantially endured the test of two centuries; and though they are becoming meliorated and more accommodating by
Before leaving this subject I must explain a little, or what I have already written may possibly lead you into error. The influence of birth, though undoubted, is not to be understood as existing here in any thing like the extent, or even under the same forms, as in Europe. * We have the authority of a great contemporary (the biographer of Napoleon) for believing that the science of heraldry reverses the inferences of reason, by shedding more lustre on the remote descendant than on the founder of an illustrious name. This is, at the best, but an equivocal acknowledgment, and it is undeniably far too sublimated for the straight-going common sense of the Americans. The writer is inclined to believe that the very opposite ground is maintained by the proficients in American heraldry, or, in other words, that the great man himself is thought to be the greatest man of his family, and that the reflection of his talents, probity, courage, or for whatever quality he may have been most remarkable, is thought to shed most lustre on those of his offspring who have lived nearest to its influence. * The simplicity which one finds on these subjects in America, is often hot without amusement. The general use of books, and the multitude of journals in the United States, certainly prevent the inhabitants of the country from being as ignorant of the usages of Europe, as the people of Europe, even of the better classes, are commonly of them; still there are thousands who form droll opinions on the subject of our distinctive habits. A German prince of the family of Saxe Weimar, was travelling in the United States during the visit of the writer. He made him self acceptable every where, by his simplicity and good sense. A little crowd had collected round an inn where he had stopped, and a new comer inquired of one of his acquaintance, “why he stared at the big man in the piazza?” “Oh, for nothing at all, only they say he is a Duke!” “A Duke! I wonder what he does for a living?”
P 2
It is a peculiar feature of American democracy, and it is one which marks its ancient date and its entire security, that it is unaccompanied by any jealousy of aristocracy beyond that which distinguishes the usual rancour of personal envy. One may sometimes hear remarks that denote the sourness of an unsuccessful rivalry, but the feeling can nowhere be traced in the conduct of the nation. The little States of Connecticut and Rhode Island contain, beyond a doubt, the two most purely democratic communities in the civilized world. In both, the public will is obeyed with the submission that a despot would exact; and, in the latter, it is consulted to a minuteness of detail that would be inconvenient, if not impracticable, in a community of more extended
* The writer was assured that the office of Secretary of State, in Rhode Island, had been in one family for near seventy years.
† Mr. John Quincy Adams: he was chosen the following winter, and is now President.
As might be expected, the general society of New-York bears a strong impression of its commercial character. In consequence of the rapid growth of the city, the number of families that may be properly classed among those which have long been distinguished in its history for their wealth and importance, bears a much smaller proportion to its entire population than that of most other places. A great many of the principal personages were swept away by the Revolution. Under these constant and progressive changes, as might be expected, the influence of their manners is, I think, less perceptible than, for instance, in Philadelphia. Still, a much larger class of what in Europe forms the
élite
of society
When Cadwallader returned from the country, I fell into a very different circle. His connexions were strictly of New-York, and they were altogether among the principal and longest established families. Here I met with many men of great leisure and large fortunes, who had imparted to their children what they had received from their fathers; and it would not have been easy, after making some slight allowances for a trifling tinge of Dutch customs, to have distinguished between their society and that portion of the English who live in great abundance, without falling into the current of what is called high or fashionable life. Although many, not only of the best informed, but of the best bred of the Americans, are merchants, the tone of manners in this circle was decidedly more
There is a common accusation against the Americans, men and women, of being cold in their manners. Some carry their distaste of the alleged defect so far, as to impute it to a want of feeling. I have even listened to speculations so ingenious, as to refer if to a peculiarity in the climate—a reasoning that was thought to be supported by the well-known imperturbability of the Aborigines. Whether the theory be true or false, the argument that is brought to maintain it is of most unfortunate application. The tornado itself is not more furious than the anger of the Indian, nor is it easy to imagine a conformation of the human mind that embraces a wider range of emotions, from the fiercest to the most gentle, than what the original owners of this country possess. Civilization might multiply the changes of their humour, but it would scarcely exhibit it in more decided forms. I confess, however, that even in Cadwallader,
* An instance of this suppressed manner occurred while the author was at New-York in the summer of 1825. An English frigate (the Hussar) entered the port, and anchored a short distance below the town. Her captain was the owner of a London-built wherry, which he kept for his private sport, as his countrymen on shore are known to keep racers. It seems that some conversation concerning the model of this boat, and of those of New-York, and perhaps, too, respecting the comparative skill of four London watermen whom he was said to retain as a sort of grooms, and the renowned Whitehallers, induced him to insert a challenge in the journals, wherein he threw down the glove, for a trial of speed, to all the mariners or sportsmen of the city. The Whitehallers took up the gage, and a day was publicly named for the trial. It was quite evident that the citizens, who are keenly alive to any thing that affects their reputation on the water, let it be ever so trifling, took great interest in the result. Thousands of spectators assembled on the Battery; and, to keep alive the excitement, there were not five Englishmen or Englishwomen in the city who did not appear to back the enterprise of their countrymen. The distance run (about two miles) was from the frigate to a boat anchored in the Hudson, and thence to another which lay it a short distance from the Castle Garden, already described. On board of the latter, the judges (who, it is presumed, were of both nations,) had adopted those delicate symbols of victory which had so recently been pitted against each other in far less friendly encounters,
i. e. the national flags. The writer and his friend, who, notwithstanding his philosophy, felt great interest in the result, took their stand on the belvidere of the castle, which commanded a fine view of the whole bay. On their right hand stood a young American naval officer, and on their left a pretty and highly excited young Englishwoman. The frigate fired a gun, and the two boats were seen dashing ahead at the signal. One soon took the lead, and maintained it to the end of the race, beating by near a quarter of a mile, though the oarsmen came in pulling only with one hand each. For some time, the distance prevented a clear view of which was likely to be the victor. A report spread on the left that it was the boat of the frigate. The eyes of the fair Englishwoman danced with pleasure, and she murmured her satisfaction so audibly as to reach the ears of all near her. The writer turned to see the effect on his right-hand neighbour. He was smiling at the feeling of the lady, but soon gravely turned his eyes in the direction of the boats. He was asked which was ahead. He answered, “the Whitehallers!” and directed the attention to a simple fact to confirm his opinion. The victors were pulling with so swift and equal a stroke, as to render their oars (at that distance) imperceptible, whereas there were moments when the blades of those in the beaten boat could be distinctly seen. This the young lieutenant described as a “man-of-war stroke,” which, he said, “could never beat a dead Whitehall-pull, let the rowers come from where they would.” The fact proved that he was right. The English flag was lowered amid three manful cheers from the goal-boat, which was no other than the launch of the Hussar. With the exception of a few boys, the Americans, though secretly much elated, made no answer, and it was difficult to trace the least change in the
countenances of the spectators. On quitting the Battery, the writer and his friend met a French gentleman of their acquaintance descending the Broadway to witness the race. He held up both hands, and shook his head, by the way of condolence. His error was explained. “Victors!” he exclaimed, looking around him in ludicrous surprise, “I could have sworn by the gravity of every face I see, that the Englishmen had beaten you half the distance!” It is no more than fair to add, that something was said of an accident, to the Hussar's boat, of which the writer pretends to know nothing, but of which he is sure the grave crowd by which he was surrounded was quite as ignorant as himself.
This national trait can neither be likened to, nor accounted for, by any of those causes which are supposed to produce the approximating qualities in some of the people of our hemisphere. It is not the effect of climate, since it exists equally in 45° and 30°. It is not the phlegm of the German, for no one can be more vivacious, frank, cordial, and communicative than the American, when you have effected the easy task of breaking through the barrier of his reserve. It cannot be the insulated pride of the Spaniard, brooding under his cloak on the miserable condition of to-day, or dreaming of the glories of the past; nor is it the repulsive hauteur of the Englishman, for no
* The author will add, nor to the hour of his departure. The United States of America are, perhaps, the only country in christendom where political disaffection does not in a greater or less degree prevail.
In despair of ever arriving at the solution of doubts which so completely baffled all conjecture and experience,
“You admit yourself that the peculiarity which you mention is solely confined to manner. The host, the friend, the man of business, or the lady in her drawing-room, who receives you with less
empressement
than you have been accustomed to meet elsewhere, omits no duty or material act of kindness. While each seems to enter less into the interests of your existence, not one of them is selfishly engaged in the exclusive pursuits of his own.
“While the Americans have lived in the centre of the moral world, their distance from Europe, and their scattered population, have kept them, as respects association, in comparative retirement. They have had great leisure for reflection. Even England, which has so long and so richly supplied us with food for the mind, labours under a mental disadvantage which is not known here. Her artificial and aged institutions require the prop of concerted opinions, which, if it be not fatal to change, have at least acquired an influence that it is thought dangerous to disturb. In America, no such restraint has ever been laid on the human mind, unless it might be through the ordinary operation of passing prejudices. But those prejudices have always been limited in their duration, and have never possessed the important
Vol. I.
Q.
“Thought is the inevitable fruit of a state of being where the individual is thus permitted to enjoy the best effects of the highest civilization, with as little as possible of its disadvantages. I should have said thought itself was the reason of that gravity you observe, did I not believe it is more true to ascribe it to the nearest approximate quality in which that thought is exhibited. When there is much leisure, and all the other means to reflect on life, apart from those temptations which hurry us into its vortex, the mind is not slow to strip it of its gloss, and to arrive at truths that lie so near the surface. The result has been, in America, to establish common sense as the sovereign guide of the public will. In the possession of this quality, the nation is unrivalled. It tempers its religion, its morals, its politics, and finally, as in the case in question, its manners. The first is equally without bigotry or licentiousness; the second are generally consistent and sound; the third are purely democratic without the slightest approach to disorder; and the last are, as you see them, less attractive to you, perhaps, because unusual; but more in consonance with common sense than your own, inasmuch as they fail of an exaggeration which our reason would condemn. Many nations excel us in the arts, but none in the truths of human existence. The former constitute the poetry of life, and they are desirable able so far as they temper society; but when they possess it to the exclusion of still nobler objects, their dominion is dangerous, and may easily become fatal. Like all other pursuits in which the imagination
“Although there is nothing incompatible between perfect political freedom and high rational refinement, there is certainly a greater addiction to factitious complaisance in a despotism than in a republic. The artificial deference which, in the former, is exacted by him who rules, descends through all the gradations of society, until its tone becomes imparted to an entire nation. I think it will be found, by referring to Europe, that manners, though certainly modified by national temperament and other causes, have become artificial in proportion as the sovereign power has exercised its influence. Though France, under the old regime, was not in theory more monarchical than many of the adjoining countries, the monarch, in fact, filled a greater space in the public mind. It would be difficult to find any other nation in which sacrifices so heavy-indeed, it may be said, so fatal, were daily and hourly made to appearances, as under the reign of Louis XIV. They were only the more dangerous, inasmuch as the great advancement of the nation made the most gifted men auxiliary to the propagation of deception. The part which Racine with his piety, Boileau with his wit, and even Fontaine with his boasted simplicity, did not disdain to play, humbler men might well desire to imitate. The consequences of this factitious tone in manners prevail to the present day in France, which, notwithstanding her vast improvements, has yet a great deal to concede to the immutable and sacred empire of truth, before either religion, government, or morals, shall reach that degree of perfection which each and all may hope to attain. However agreeable habitual deference to forms may become, the pleasure is bought too dearly, when a just knowledge of ourselves, deceptive views of life, or even of sacred liberty itself, may be the
“The native of New-England has certainly more of this peculiar exterior than the native of any other part of our country. This difference is unquestionably a result of the manners of the Puritans. But you are right in believing that it is, more or less, to be seen in the air of most Americans; perhaps of all, with the exception of those who have lived from infancy in what is called the most polished, which of itself implies the most artificial circles.
“A great deal of this exterior is also hereditary. The Englishman is the man of the coldest aspect in Europe, when you compare his ordinary temperament with his deportment. Has not the Englishman a sounder view of life than any other man in your hemisphere? If not, he has been singularly fortunate
“France has been proverbial for grace of manner. But the manners of France are undergoing a sensible change, under the influence of the new order of things. Her gentlemen are becoming grave as they become thoughtful. Any one may observe, in passing through French society, the difference between the two schools. I confess that my taste is for the modern. I have been so much accustomed to the simplicity of American manners, as to find something that is congenial in the well-bred English, that is wanting in the well-bred French deportment, and precisely for the reason that it is still a little more natural. So far as this distinction goes, I honestly believe the Englishman has the advantage. But, with honourable exceptions, it will not do to push English complaisance too far. Perhaps, if we attempt a comparison, I shall be better understood.
“The Englishman and, the American have, in a great degree, a common manner. I do not now speak of the gentlemen of the two countries, for much intercourse is rapidly assimilating the class every where, but of the deportment of the two entire nations.
You
will find both cold. There is certainly no great difference in the men, though more may be observed in the women. The English say that our women are much too cold, and we say that theirs are artificial without always being graceful. Of course, I speak of the mass, and not of exceptions in either case. Our women are, as you see, eminently feminine, in air, conversation, and feeling, and they are also eminently natural. You may find them cold, for, to be honest, they find you a little artificial; but, with their countrymen, they are frank, sincere, unreserved and natural, while I challenge the world to produce finer instances of genuine, shrinking delicacy, or of greater feminine propriety.
Q 2
“The French gentleman has certainly one advantage over his island neighbour. He is uniformly polite; his conventional habits having apparently gotten the better of all his native humours. You are sure, so far as manner is concerned, of finding him to-morrow as you left him to-day. There may be some question on this point with the Englishman, but none with the American. Common sense is quite as equal as good-breeding. The American gentleman is less graceful than the Frenchman, and may be even less conventional in his air than the Englishman, but he is commonly gravely considerate of the feelings. Were he disposed to abuse his situation, his countrymen would not tolerate his airs. I have already told you that humanity is a distinctive feature of American intercourse. The men of secondary manners may be more subdued in air than those of Europe, but it is altogether confined to appearance. No man is kinder in all his feelings or habits.
* The writer landed in England, on his return to Europe Curiosity led him to the gallery of the House of Commons. The member on the floor was a stranger to him. A well-dressed man stood at his elbow, and he ventured to ask him if he knew who was speaking. “No,” was the answer, and it was given with an elevation and a peculiar sententiousness of voice which cannot be committed to paper. The writer was induced to repeat the experiment, simply as an experiment, four times, and always with the same success, except that in the last instance he obtained the name, but in a note pitched in the same key. He is bold to say, that the coldest looking man in America would have answered in a tone of more “
civilization.”
“But this digression is leading me from what you call the peculiar coldness of the American manner. The word is not well chosen, since coldness implies a want of feeling, and want of feeling cannot exist where every concession is made to humanity, except in words and looks. Mr. Hodgson says, he does not think the habit of which he complains is to be seen in the better classes of the men, though he appearspaysanne
would still be more likely to flatter his self-complacency than the cordiality of the soldiers' wives. It would not be difficult for you and me to quote still stronger instances of the extent to which this manner is carried among different people, and people, too, who have no very extraordinary reputation either for morals or civilization.
“I think it will be found, too, on reflection, that the subdued manner (the word is more just than cold) of the Americans, is more owing to the simple and common sense habit-they have of viewing things, than even to rusticity, or indeed to any other, cause. I cannot be the former, since it is to be traced, among those who have passed their lives in the most polished intercourse in the cities no less than in the country, and amid elegance as well as rural simplicity. While
I shall make no comments on the opinions of my friend. There is, however, one thing that may be said on the subject which will go to prove the justice of his theory. There is, at least, nothing conventional in this coldness of manner of his countrymen. Men do not admit it as a part of their gentility; but it has altogether the air of being either the effect of their national temperament, or, Cadwallader would prove, of habits that proceed from a reflection so general and uniform, as to have perfectly acquired the simplicity and force of nature. I think also that he has not laid sufficient stress on the effect of republican institutions and the want of a court; but one
New-York,—
From
the hour that we landed in America, to the present moment, the voices of men, the journals, and the public bodies, have been occupied in celebrating the work of national gratitude, The visit of La Fayette, his ancient services, his appearance, his sayings, his tact, his recollection of, and meeting with veterans whom he had known under other and more adverse circumstances, are the constant themes of press and tongue. The universal sentiment, and the various scenes to which it has given birth, have no failed to elicit many sparks of that sort of feeling which is creditable to human nature, since it proves that man, with all his selfishness and depravity, is the repository of a vast deal that is generous and noble. Two or three little anecdotes have come to my ears that may serve to amuse, if not to, edify you.
One of the familiar, and certainly not the least touching manners, chosen by the Americans, to evince their attachment to La Fayette, who has been well
A gentleman, who, from former acquaintance and his situation in life, is much around the person of the General, has related another instance of the deep and nearly filial interest that is taken in his comfort, by all classes of the citizens. It is well known that in common with so many others, the fortune of La Fayette suffered by the changes in France, no less than by his own sacrifices. This circumstance had, as usual, been exaggerated, until an impression has obtained among many of the less informed, that he is actually subjected to personal privations. Their ‘guest’ appeared among the Americans simply clad, in a coat of black, which was not of a particularly fine fabric, and with other habiliments equally plain. Now, it so happens, that the American who is the least above the labouring, classes, habitually wears a finer cloth than the corresponding classes even in England, with perhaps an exception in favour of the very highest in the latter country. This peculiarity in the attire of La Fayette, struck the eye of a mechanic, who did
I might fill a volume with similar instances of attachment and affection, with addresses, processions and ceremonies, which have occurred since the reception of the veteran Frenchman, amongst these usually quiet and rarely excited people. A brief description of a
fête
at which I was present, and which is, in some measure, connected with my own movements, must, however, suffice for the present, I shall describe it both for its peculiar nature, and because it may serve to give a general idea of the taste, manners, and appearance of the Americans, in similar scenes.
At the return of La Fayette from his excursion to Boston, the citizens of New-York determined to entertain him in their collective capacity. He had been feasted by corporate bodies innumerable; but this ball was to be given by subscription, and to include as many of all the different classes of society, as could well assemble in the place chosen for its celebration. That spot was the abandoned fortress already mentioned by the name of the Castle Garden, as the place where he landed. The castle you will remember, stands on an artificial island, a few hundred feet fromgradins
, like the seats of an amphitheatre. Thus the interior might be said to be divided into several parts, There was the great salle, or the area of the garden the immense, low, vaulted, circular corridor, within the work; the gradins, a little below the belvidere supported by pillars, and the belvidere itself, all beneath the awning, In addition to these, on the side of the castle next the city, is a range of apartments some of which have been added since the new destination of the building, and are on a scale suited to its present uses.
Cadwallader procured tickets for us both, and at ten o'clock we proceeded to the centre of attraction. Two of the principal streets of the city terminate near each other directly in face of the castle garden. The carriages entered the battery (the promenade) by one, and left it by the other. Temporary fence were erected to keep the coachmen in the line after they had arrived on the mall. I can say with truth, that I never knew a company set down and taken up with more facility and order. You will recollect there were six thousand guests, a number that is arely exceeded at any European entertainment. Thegensd armes
, though I, was told some police officers were present, and yet I saw no attempts to break the line, or any other instances of those impertinences, with which coachmen with us are apt to emulate what they conceive to be the importance of their masters. Indeed, all my experience goes to show that the simplest way of destroying the bickerings and heart-burnings of precedency and rank, is to destroy their usages altogether. No doubt human nature is just as active among these republicans, as it is in England or in Germany, and that A, secretly envies or derides the claims of B.; but it would be perfectly absurd in either of the parties to permit a public exposure of their pretensions, since the world would very apt to tell them both, the distinction you enjoy is only by sufferance, and dignified and quiet behaviour is one requisite for its possession at all. Thus, you see, however rancorous may be the rivalry, third parties are at all events spared the exhibition of its folly. But this truth it abundantly proved in the saloons of your own fascinating metropolis, where one is daily elbowed by peers, without being the least conscious of the honours he is receiving, and where society is kept so perfectly and so admirably distinct from government.
We alighted at the bridge which connects the island to the battery. By the aid of awnings, carpets and other accessories, this passage, over which armed heels had so often trod, and lumbering wheels rumbled with their groaning loads of artillery, was converted into a long, and prettily decorated gallery. The light was judiciously kept down, so as to give the entrance a subdued and pleasing, and strikingly romantic effect. You caught, in passing, glimpses of the water, and hear its quiet washing in dull contrast
Vol. I.
R
It is, perhaps, not saying much for the self-possession of two travellers who had passed through so many similar scenes, but it is, nevertheless, strictly true, that both Cadwallader and myself, instead of passing on with suitable deference to the rest of the guests, came to a dead halt on the threshold of this scene, and stood, near a minute, gazing around us and upwards, with wonder. We had, however, the consolation to discover that we were not alone in our underbred surprise, for a hundred pretty exclamations that escaped prettier lips, and the immense pressure of the crowd at the spot where our steps had been arrested, apprised us that the sensation was common to all. Escaping from this throng, we had leisure to study the details which had produced so imposing a
tout-ensemble.
An immense cloud of flags, composed of all the colours of the rainbow intermingled, was waving gently in the upper air, shadowing the area at an elevation of not less than seventy feet. The enormous spar which supported this canopy of ensigns had been converted into the shaft of an immense lustre, whose several parts were composed of entire chandeliers. From these were streaming the floods of noon-day light which gave to the centre of the salle its extraordinary brilliancy, while countless shaded and coloured lamps shed a fainter and softer glow on those parts of the scene which taste and contrast required to be kept down. Directly in front of the entrance was a double flights of steps (one of half a dozen which led to the gradins and the belvidere)
Shortly after we had entered, La Fayette arrived. The music changed to a national air, the gay sets dissolved as by a charm, and the dancers who had been dispersed over the floor of the salle formed a lane, whose sides were composed of masses that might have contained two thousand eager faces each. Through this gay multitude the old man slowly passed, giving and receiving the most cordial and affectionate salutations at every step. I had not seen him since his departure for the east. But though the freshness of this reception was past, his presence had lost none of its influence. To me he appeared some venerable and much respected head of a vast family, who had come to pass an hour amid their innocent and gay revels. He was literally like a father among his children.
The assemblage was composed of every class in the country, with the exception of those perhaps who are compelled to seek their livelihood by positive bodily labour. Still there was no awkwardness apparent, no presumption on the part of the one, nor any arrogance on that of others. All passed off simply, harmoniously, and with the utmost seeming enjoyment.
My friend, who is very universally known, was saluted at every step by some fair one, or some man, who, to the eye at least, had the port and bearing of
R 2
In this manner we passed though the crowd, until we had gained the terrace. Here we paused, to take a more deliberate view of what I will not term assemblage, for its adjuncts and peculiar features strictly entitle it to be called a prospect. The vast extent of the salle lent an air of magic to the whole scene. Slight, delicate beingsfêete.
Ever, the glimpses that were here and there caught of the gloomy recesses, in which artillery had formerly frowned, assisted in lending the spectacle a character of its own. The side curtains of the canopy were raised for the admission of air, and one had only to turn his eyes front the dazzling fairy scene within, to look out upon the broad, placid, star-lit bay, which washed the foot of the fortress. I lingered on this spot near an hour, experiencing an unsocial delight that may seem to savour of the humour of our fraternity, especially when one remembers the numberless temptations to descend which were flitting like beings of the air before my eyes. But a crowd of sensations and reflections oppressed me.
* The delicacy of the American women is rather peculiar. It struck the writer that the females in common were under the size of middle Europe, and the men rather over.
Again and again I asked myself the question, if what I saw were true, and if I really were standing on the continent of Columbus. Could those fair graceful creatures be the daughters and wives of the mechanics and tradesmen of a provincial town in North America? Perhaps, dear Béthizy, it was assailinggauche
, if transported into one of our highly artificial coteries; but, believe me, the most laboured refinement of Europe might have learned, in this identical, motley, republican assemblage, that there is a secret charm in nature, which it may be sometimes dangerous to attempt to supersede. It has always appeared to me, that manner in a woman bears a strict analogy to dress. A degree of simple, appropriate embellishment serves alike to adorn the graces of person and of demeanour; but the moment a certain line is passed in either, the individual becomes auxiliary to the addition, instead of the addition lending, as it should, a grace to the individual. It is very possible, that, if one woman wears diamonds, another must do the same thing, until a saloon shall be filled with the contents of a jeweller's shop; but, after all, this is rather a contest between bright stones than bright eyes. What man has not looked a thousand times, even at beauty, with indifference, when has been smothered by such an unnatural alliance; but what man has ever met beauty in its native attractions, without feeling her power influencing his inmost soul? I speak with no dissembled experience when I answer—None!
I think the females of the secondary classes in this, country dress more, and those of the upper, less, than the corresponding castes in Europe. The Americans are not an economical people, in one: sense, though instances of dissolute prodigality are exceedingly rare among them. A young woman of the middling classes, for instance, seldom gives much,
The facility with which the fabrics of every country in the world are obtained, the absence of care on the subject of the future, and the inherent elevation * Washington Irvinggrisette
of Paris, for
elégante.
But the carriage, the démeanour, and the expressions of one Parisian
grisette
, is as much like those of another as well can be. Now the fashion of the attire, and not unfrequently the material of the dress of an American girl of a similar class, differs from that of the lady only in quality, and perhaps a little in the air in which it is worn. As you ascend in the scale of society, the distinctions, always excepting those delicate shades which can only be acquired by constant association in the best company, become less obvious, until it requires the tact of breeding to trace them at all. As I stood regarding the mixed assembly before me, I had the best possible illustration of the truth of what I will not call the levelling, for elevating is a far better word, effects of the state of society, which has been engendered by the institutions and the great abundance of this country. Of some three thousand females present, not a sixth of the whole numbers, perhaps, belonged to those classes that, in Europe, are thought to have any claims to compose the
élite
of society. And yet so far as air, attire, grace, or even deportment, were concerned, it must have been a sickly and narrow taste indeed that could have taken exceptions. Although so far removed from what we are accustomed to consider the world, the Americans, in general, have far less of what is called, in English, the manner of the ‘shop’ about them, than their kinsmen of England. These peculiar features are becoming every day less striking every where; but Cadwallader tells me they never existed in America at all. Few men are so completely limited to one profession, or trade, as not to possess a great many just and accurate ideas on other subjects; and though it may be a consequence that excellence is more rare in particular pursuits, it is certain that, in manner and in general intelligence,fête.
Both men and women deported themselves, and to all appearances looked quite as well as a far more select
réunion
in Europe. The distinguishing feature of American female manners is nature. The fair creatures are extremely graceful if left to exhibit their blandishments in their own way; but it is very evident, that a highly artificial manner in those with whom they associate, produces a blighting influence on the case of even the most polished among them. They appear to me to shrink sensitively from professions and an exaggeration that form no part of their own politeness; and between ourselves, if they are wise, they will retain the unequalled advantage they now possess in carrying refinement no further than it can be supported by simplicity and truth. They are decidedly handsome; a union of beauty in feature and form, being, I think, more common than in any part of Europe north of the Adriatic. In general they are delicate; a certain feminine air, tone of voice, size and grace being remarkably frequent. In the northern, eastern and middle states, which contain much more than half the whole population of the country, the women are fair; though brunettes are not unfrequent, and just as blondes are admired in France, they are much esteemed here, especially, as is often the case, if the hair and eyes happen to correspond. Indeed it is difficult to imagine any creature more attractive than an American beauty between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. There is something in the bloom, delicacy and innocence of one of these young things, that reminds you of the conceptions which poets and painters have taken of the angels. I think delicacy of air and appearance at that age, though perhaps scarcely more enchanting than what one sees in England is even more common here than in the motherprima facie
testimony that her character is frail. It should also be remembered, that when an American girl marries, she no longer entertains the desire to interest any but her husband. There is perhaps something in the security of matrimony that is not very propitious to female blandishments, and one ought to express no surprise that the wife who is content with the affections of her husband, should grow a little indifferent to the admiration of the rest of the world. One rarely sees married women foremost in the gay scenes. They attend, as observant and influencing, members of society, but not as the principal actors. It is thought that the amusements of the world are more appropriate to the young, who are neither burthened nor sobered with matrimonial duties, and who possess an inherent right to look about them in the morning of life in quest of the partner who is to be their companion to its close. And yet I could name, among my acquaintances here, a dozen of the youngest-locking mothers of large and grown-up families that I remember ever to have seen.
The freedom of intercourse which is admitted between the young of the two sexes in America, and which undeniably is admitted with impunity, is to m, who have so long been kept sighing in the distance, perfectly amazing. I have met with self-sufficient critics from our side of the Atlantic, who believe, or affect to believe, that this intercourse cannot always be so innocent as is pretended. When questioned as to the grounds of their doubts, they have uniformly been founded on the impression that what could not exist with impunity with us, cannot exist with impunity here. They might just as well pretend,
Vol I S
You will readily understand that the usages of society must always be more or less tempered by the circles in which they are exhibited. Among thoseélite
, the liberty allowed to unmarried females, I am inclined to think, is much the same as is practised among the upper classes in England, with this difference, that, as there is less danger of innovation on rank through fortune-hunters and fashionable aspirants, so is there less jealousy of their approaches. A young American dances, chats, laughs, and is just as happy in the saloon, as she was a few years before in the nursery. It is expected that the young men would seek her out sit next her, endeavour to amuse her, and in short, to make themselves as agreeable as possible. By the memory of the repentant Benedict, Compte Jules, but this is a constant and sore temptation to one who has never before been placed in the jeopardy of such a contagious atmosphere! But it is necessary to understand the tone of conversation that is allowed, in order to estimate the dangers of this propinquity.
The language of gallantry is never tolerated. A married woman would conceive it an insult, and a girl would be exceedingly apt to laugh in her adorer's face. In order that it should be favourably received, It is necessary that the former should be prepared to forget her virtue, and to the latter, whether sincere or not, it is an absolute requisite that all adulation should at least wear the semblance of sincerity. But he who addresses an unmarried female in this language, whether it be of passion or only feigned, must expect to be exposed, and probably disgraced, unles he should be prepared to support his sincerity by an offer of his hand. I think I see you tremble at the magnitude of the penalty! I do not mean to say that idle pleasantries, such as are mutually understood to be no more than pleasantries, are not sometimes tolerated; but an American female is exceedingly apt to assume a chilling gravity at the slightest trespass on what she believes, and, between ourselves, rightly believes, to be the dignity of her sex. Here, you will
There is another peculiarity in American manners that should be mentioned. You probably know that in England far more reserve is used, in conversation with a female, than in most, if not all of the nations of the continent. As, in all peculiar customs, each nation prefers its own usage; and while the English lady is shocked with the freedom with which the French lady converses of her personal feelings, ailings, &c., the latter turns the nicety of the former into ridicule. It would be an invidious office to pretend to decide between the tastes of such delicate disputants but one manner of considering the subject is manifestly wrong. The great reserve of the English ladies has been termed a
mauvaise honte
, which is ascribed to their insular situation, and to their circumscribed intercourse with the rest of the world. And yet it may be well questioned if the
paysanne
élégante
, in this species of refinement, or whether a
dame des halles
cannot rather more freely discuss her animal functions than a
dame de la cour.
This is a manner of disposing of the question that will not abide the test of investigation, since it is clear that refinement makes us reserved, and not communicative, on all such topics. Fashion, it is true, may cause even coarseness to be sometimes tolerated, and, after all, it is no easy matter to decide Where true refinement ends, or sickliness of taste commences. Let all this be as it may, it is certain that the women of America, of all classes, are much more reserved and guarded in their discourse, at least in presence of our sex, than even the women of the country whence they derive their origin. Various opinions are entertained on the subject amongst themselves. The vast majority of the men like it, because they are used to no other custom. Many, who have got a taste of European usages, condemn it as over-fastidious; but my friend Cadwallader, who is not ignorant of life in both hemispheres, worships it, as constituting one of the distinctive and appropriate charms of the sex. He stoutly maintains, that the influence of woman is more felt and revered in American society than in any other; and he argues, with no little plausibility, that it is so because, while she rarely or never exceeds the natural duties of her station, she forgets none of those distinctive features of her sex and character, which, by constantly appealing to the generosity of man by admitting her physical weakness, give strength and durability to her moral ascendancy. I think, at all events, no intelligent traveller can journey through this country without being struck by the singular air of decency and self-respect which belongs to all its women, and
S 2
With these restrictions, which cannot be infringed without violating the rules of received decorum, you will readily perceive that the free intercourse between the unmarried is at once deprived of half its danger. But the upper classes in this country are far from neglecting many necessary forms. As they have more lose by matrimonial connexions than others, common prudence teaches them the value of a proper caution. Thus a young lady never goes in public without the eye of some experienced matron to watch her movements. She cannot appear at a play, ball, &c. &c. without a father, or a brother, at least it is thought far more delicate and proper that she should have a female guardian. She never rides nor walks—unless in the most public places, and then commonly with great reserve—attended by a single man, unless indeed under circustances of a peculiar nature. In short, she pursues that course which rigid delicacy would prescribe, without howover
* A conversation once occurred between a French and an American gentleman on this subject, in presence of the writer. The former insisted that the Americans did not treat their women as politely as the French, though he did not deny thinking their treatment substantially kind. “For instance,” he said, “you will not, half the time, give a lady the wall in passing in the street.” “Very true,” returned the American, “we carry our politeness much further; we are humane. There is not a street in all America without
trottoirs, and most of them, as you well know, are broad and comfortable. It is true, we inherit the custom from England; but had we not, the necessities of woman alone would have caused us to adopt some such plan for her relief. We commonly take the right in passing, because it is most convenient to have a general rule. If any thing, the wall is neither so safe nor so agreeable as the outer side of the walk.” Now it appears to the writer, that this reply contains the very essence of the kindness of man to woman in America. There is little show in it; but every thing that is considerate and useful.
I shall close this long and discursive epistle with one more distinctive custom, that may serve to give you an idea of the tone and simplicity of this society. There is something repugnant to the delicacy of American ideas in permitting a lady to come, in any manner in contact with the world. A woman of almost any rank above the labouring classes, is averse to expose herself to the usual collisions, bargainings, &c. &c. of ordinary travelling. Thus, the first thing an American woman requires to commence a journey, is a suitable male escort; the very thing that with us would be exceptionable. Nothing is more common, for instance, when a husband or a brother hears that a respectable acquaintance is about to go in the same steam-boat, stage, or on the same route, as that in which his wife or sister intends to journey, than to request the former to become her protector. The request is rarely refused, and the trust is always considered flattering, and commonly sacred. Here you see that the very custom which in Europe would create scandal, is here resorted to, under favour of good morals and directness of thought, to avert it. Cadwallader assures me that he was pained, and even shocked, at meeting well-bred women running about Europe attended only by a footman and a maid, and that for a long time he could not divest himself of the idea, that they were unfortunate in having lost all those male friends, whose natural duty it was to stand between their helplessness and the cold calculating selfishness of
New-York,—
There
is a secret pleasure in discoursing of the habits, affections, and influence of the sex, which invariably leads me astray from all other objects. I find, on perusing my letter-book, that the temptation of treating on the usages of the American women, completely lured me from a recollection of the
fête
in which I was happy enough to see so many of the fair creatures congregated. It is now too late to return to a description of a scene that would require hours to do it justice, and we must, in consequence, take our departure abruptly for the interior of the state of New-York. It had been previously arranged that Cadwallader and his—acquaintance should take passage in a steam-boat that was destined to receive La Fayette, and which was to depart, at a stated hour, from the terrace of the castle garden itself.
It must be confessed that these republicans have given a princely reception to their venerable guest. It forms one portion of their plan of hospitality, that he is to receive every accommodation to which he is entitled by his rank and services, and every facility of movement possible, without the least pecuniary cost. At every city, and indeed at every hamlet he
On the present occasion, La Fayette was to present himself in the towns on the banks of the Hudson; to examine the great military school at West Point, and to revisit many of those scenes of peculiar interest in which he had been an important actor five and forty years before. A capacious, comfortable, and even elegant steam-boat, was appropriated to his use. * The luxury of the American steam-boats is peculiar to the nation. Those of England are certainly next to them in size, show, and elegance but the writer thinks they cannot be said to be equal in either. their number considering the population of the country is amazing. The cannot be less than fifty, that on the waters which communicate with the city of New-York alone. On the Mississippi and its tributaries, there are near a hundred, many of which are as large as small frigates. Of their elegance it may be said that one is now running on the Hudson, which, besides a profuse expenditure of marble, mahogany, the beautiful bird's-eye maple of the country, and all the other customary ornaments, has its cabins actually surrounded by compartments painted in landscapes, &c. &c. by artists who would occupy highly creditable situations among their brethren in Europe. This boat has fun from New-York to Albany, a distance of about one hundred and forty-seven miles, in eleven hours and a half. Every day, too, is exhibiting improvements in machinery and form, as also in luxury and comfort.
A little after midnight we were told it was necessary to depart. Our baggage and servants were already in board, and following the motions of La Fayette, who tore himself from a crowd of the fair and affectionate daughters of America, that seemed in truth to regard him with eyes of filial affection, we left the brilliant scene together. The boat was in readiness, and stepping on her decks from the lower terrace beneath the walls of the castle, in five minutes we were making swift progress along the noble river of the north, as it is often called in this country. For a few minutes we saw the halo of light which hung about the scene we had quitted, and heard the soft sounds of the distant music diffusing themselves on the water, and then came the gloomier objects of the sleeping town, with its tall, straight spires, its forests of masts, and its countless rows of battlement-walls, and of chimneys, in brick. The whole company, which consisted of some fifty or sixty, immediately retired to their births, and in a few minutes the dashing of the wheels against the waters, and the dead, dull movement of the engine, lulled me to sleep.
I was up long before most of the company. La
For the first fifty miles from its mouth, the Hudson is never much less than a mile in width, and, in two instances, it expands into small lakes of twice that breadth, running always in a direction a little west of north. The eye, at first, looks along an endless vista, that narrows by distance, but which opposes nothing but distance to the view. The western shore is a perpendicular rock, weather-worn and venerable, bearing a little of the appearance of artificial parapets, from which word it takes its name. This rock has a very equal altitude of about five hundred feet. At the foot of this wall of stone, there is, occasionally, room for the hut of some labourer in the quarries, which are wrought in its side, and now and then a house is seen seated on a narrow bottom, that may furnish subsistence for a few cattle, or, perhaps, a
Above the Highlands, the river again assumes a different character. From the bay of Newburg to that of Hudson, a distance at least of sixty or seventy miles, it appears like a succession of beautiful lakes, each reach preserving the proportions and appearance of a separate sheet of water, rather than of part of a river. There are a few of these detached views that may compete with any of Italy, and to one in particular there is a noble back-ground of mountains, removed a few miles from the water, which are thrown together in splendid confusion.
From Hudson to Albany, some thirty miles, the Hudson acquires more of the character of a river according to our European notions. It is dotted
Vol. I T
At Waterford, one hundred and eighty miles from the sea, it becomes a reduced and rural stream, about as large as the Seine at Paris, and can be traced for leagues, sometimes still, lovely, and green with islands, and sometimes noisy, rapid, and tumbling, until you reach its sources in the rugged, broken mountains of the northern counties of the State. There are far mightier streams in this country than the Hudson, but there is not one of scenery so diversified and so pleasing. The Rhine, with its cities, its hundred castles, and its inexhaustible recollections, has charms of its own; but when time shall lend to the Hudson the interest of a deeper association, its passage will, I think, be pronounced unequalled. At present, even, it is not without a character of peculiar moral beauty. The view of all the improvements of high civilization in rapid, healthful, and unequalled progress, is cheering to philanthropy; while the countless villas, country-houses, and even seats of reasonable pretensions, are calculated to assure one, that, amid the general abundance of life, its numberless refinements are not neglected.
The Highlands had been the great military position of the Americans during the struggle for their independence. The scattered population of the country, at that time, lay the shores of the Atlantic, between the forty-third and the thirty-third degrees of atitude. Perhaps one half of the entire physical strength of the country then existed in the State of New-England. It is well known, that after the insurrection had assumed the character of a war, Great Britain, instead of maintaining, was obliged to
In America man had early discovered that the social machine was invented for his use, and it would have required something far more powerful than the display of a line of ensigns to direct him from the great object on which he had gravely, deliberately, and resolutely determined. Still as every foot of land acquired was so far a conquest as its sovereignty formed a portion of the disputed territory, it cannot be supposed that the Americans were indifferent to the possession of the strongest fortress of their country. By holding the Highlands they rendered the communications between the States more easy, they kept a constant check on the movements of the royal forces in the vastly important city of New-York. West Point, the heart of their positions in these mountains, had been strongly fortified, and its defense was justly enough considered as of the greatest moment to their cause. After the arrival of the French army at Rhode Island, a conquest which had baffled all the previous exertions of the British, should have been abandoned as impossible. It would seem a hope was indulged that what could not be achieved by force of arms, might be effected by means less martial.
It appears that a British sloop of war had ascended the river, and anchored in a wide bay a few miles below the entrance of the Highlands. This sloop (the Vulture) had brought Major André, and, having landed him, was awaiting his return. The adjutant general was induced, to enter within the lines of the American sentinels for the purpose of acquiring a knowledge of the force, condition, and defences of his enemy; an act that clearly committed him as a spy. His retreat was rendered difficult, and instead of returning to the Vulture, he assumed a disguise, and attempted to regain New-York by traversing the intervening county of West-Chester. On his road he was intercepted by three young American farmers, who, according to the usage of the country, were in ambush to await the passage of any small party of the British, or of their friends, who might chance to come that way. By these young men was André arrested. The Americans were in common parlance termed the party
above
, (in reference to the course of the river,) and their foes, the party
below.
As there was nothing immediately in view about the person of Major André to betray his real character, it is quite possible that, had he retained his presence of mind he might, after a short detention, have been permitted
T 2
During the time Arnold was maturing his work of treason, Washington was absent from the army, in the adjoining State of Connecticut, whither he had gone to arrange a plan for the ensuing and final campaign of the contest, with the commandant of the French forces. La Fayette was of the party. It happened that these military chiefs arrived in the mountains on the very morning the arrest of André (under a * Hamilton, an aide of Washington, afterwards so distinguished in the history of his country; and M'Henry, an aide of La Fayette, subsequently Secretary of War. It is pleasant to trace these young men in the events of their early lives, through these familiar scenes.
Quitting the house, Arnold mounted a horse belonging to one of his aides, and galloped a half a mile to a place where his barge was in waiting. He entered the boat with a favourable tide, and commanded the crew to pull down the river. His object was to get as soon as possible beyond the reach of the cannon of the forts. Of course he was obeyed, and, as no suspicions had been excited, he was believed to be at the Point, when, it truth, he was making the best of his way along the lovely mountain-river I have endeavoured to describe. The distance to go before he was safe, was seventeen or eighteen miles, for all the commanding points were in the keeping of his injured countrymen. By the aid of great encouragement, his crew (who were deceived by a tale that he was going on board the Vulture with a flag on urgent business) made such exertions as enabled him to get through the lower pass, before the courier with the intelligence of his treason had arrived. Throughout the whole affair, this wretched man, who has acquired a notoriety that promises to be as lasting as that of Erostratus, manifested the utmost coolness and decision.
* The writer has had the double advantage of listening to the deeply interesting details of La Fayette, and of hearing Arnold's own statement from a British officer, who was present when the latter related his escape at a dinner given in New-York, with an impudence that was scarcely less remarkable than his surprising self-possession.
Arnold had scarcely got beyond the reach of the cannon on the Point, when Washington, La Fayette, and Knox, another distinguished general, with their several suites, arrived. The commander-in-chief was
La Fayette, still ignorant of what had occurred, was dressing for dinner, when his aide, M'Henry, entered for his pistols. Without explanation, he and Hamilton mounted their horses, and gallopped through the passes of the mountains, in order to interrupt the flight of Arnold. It has since appeared, that the officer in advance (a Colonel Jamieson) had despatched his first messenger with the report that had reached the hands of Arnold before examining the papers, but that he lost no time in repairing the mistake the instant he had perused them. This short interval saved the life of Arnold, and forfeited that of his associate. When Washington and La Fayette met, the former put the report of Jamieson into the hands of the latter, and said, with tears in his eyes, “Arnold is a traitor, and has fled to the British!” General Knox was present at this scene.
Washington now sought an interview with the wife of the traitor. He found her raving, though sensible of his presence and character. She implored him not to injure her, and was so completely under the influence of terror as to beg “would not murder her child.” Commending her to the care of the attendants, he left the room. Notwithstanding the immense stake that was involved in the treason, and his entire ignorance of its extent, the self-possession of this extraordinary man was undisturbed. For a single moment he had appeared to mourn over the moral depravity that could expose so fair a cause to so base an action, but it would have baffled the keenest eye to have traced in his countenance the existence of the slightest alarm. He entered the dining-room calm and dignified as usual, and apologizing for the absence of both host and hostess, he invited the company to be seated. It was only in the course of the entertainment, so extended and complete was the influence
The commandant of the advanced post of the Highlands, at Stony Point, was at hand. This officer (a Colonel Cole) was a warm friend and a
protégé
of Arnold. He had even carried his attachment so far, as to have fought a duel in defence of the traitor's character, but a short time before the exposure of the treason. Washington now sent for him, “Colonel,” he said, “we have been deceived in the character of General Arnold; he has betrayed us. Your post may be attacked, this very night: go to it without delay, and defend it, as I know you will.” This noble confidence was not misplaced. Cole could with difficulty speak. Pressing his hand on his heart, he found words merely to utters—“Your excellency has more than rewarded all I have done, or even can do for my country,” and departed. Is there not something noble, and worthy of the best days of classic recollection, in the single-minded and direct character which marked the events of this glorious contest? One loves to dwell on that integrity, which having been compelled to give credit to one act of baseness, refuses to believe that another can be meditated. I know no fact more honourable to the American character than the one which proves that, notwithstanding the great trust and high character the traitor had once enjoyed, his influence ended the instant he was known to be unworthy of confidence. While on board the Vulture, he essayed in vain to tempt the serjeant and six men, who composed the crew of his own boat, to follow his fortunes, though every offer which might tempt men of their class was resorted to, in order to induce them to change their service. “If General Arnold likes the King of England, let him serve him,” said the stubborn serjeant; “we love our country, and intend to live or die in support of her cause.”
The day passed away in the reflections and precautions such a discovery would be likely to produce. In the evening the barge returned from the Vulture, bearing an insolent letter from the traitor to the commander-in-chief, in which, among other undignified and vain threats, he denounced the vengeance of his new masters, unless certain conditions which he wished to impose were implicitly regarded. The impetuous character of Washington's native temper is as well known as the unrivalled self-command he had acquired. While his eye glanced over this impudent and characteristic communication from Arnold, it appeared, by his countenance, as if a burst of mighty indignation was about to escape him. Recovering himself as it were by magic, he turned to one of his aides with surprising moderation and dignity, and said, “Go to Mrs, Arnold, and inform her, that, though my duty required no means should be neglected to arrest General Arnold, I have great pleasure in acquainting
her
that he is now safe on board a British vessel of war.”
It ought to be added that, while the American government proceeded steadily to their object throughout the rest of this interesting transaction, guided only by their reason, and utterly disregarding the menaces of the English general, the wife of the traitor continued to receive every attention which delicacy could prescribe. She was permitted to go first to her friends in Philadelphia, and soon after was sent, under the protection of a flag, to her husband in New-York. There is something consoling to humanity to find,
The fate of André became an object of the keenest solicitude to both armies. From the commencement of the struggle, to the last hour of its continuance, the American authorities had acted with a moderation and dignity that gave it a character far more noble than that of a rebellion. In no one instance had the war been permitted, on their part, to assume the appearance of a struggle for personal aggrandizement. It was men battling for the known rights of human nature. But a crisis had arrived when it was to be seen whether they would dare to expose the defenceless of their land, to the threatened retaliation of a man, that it is far less offensive to his power to kill a general in open conflict, than to lead a subordinate deliberately to an execution, which is sanctioned only by a disputed authority. In the present instance, however, the offender was not only an officer of a high and responsible situation, but he was one who had made himself dear to the army by his amiable qualities, and eminently useful to its commander by his attainments, I think, among men of high and honourable minds, there can be but one opinion concerning the merit of his enterprise. There is something so repugnant to every loyal sentiment in treason, that he who is content to connect himself, ever so remotely, with its baseness, cannot expect to escape altogether from its odium. It is true that public opinion has, of necessity, fixed bounds which military men may approach, without committing their characters for mauliness and honour. Without this privilege, it is plain that
Vol. I.
Major André was the servant of a powerful and liberal government, that was known never reward niggardly, and the war in which he served, was waged to aggrandize its power, assert any of the natural rights of man. With doubtful incentives, and for the attainment of such an object, did this accomplished young soldier condescend to prostitute his high acquirements, and to tamper with treason. He did more. He overstepped the coy and reserved distance which conscious dignity preserves, even while it stoops to necessity, and entered familiarly and personally into the details of the disgusting bargain. The mere technicalities of posts and sentinels, though they may be important for the establishment of rules which are to soften the horrors of war, can have but little influence on the moral views his conduct. The higher the attainments of the individual, the greater must have been the flexibility which could see only the reward in an undertaking like this. As to the commonplace sentiment of serving king and country,
The Americans were determined to assert the dignity of their government. The question was not one of vengeance, or even one of mere protection from similar dangers in future, It involved the more lofty considerations of sovereignty. It was necessary to show the world that he who dared to assail the rights of the infant and struggling republics, incurred a penalty as fearful as he who worked his treason against the majesty of a king. The calmness, the humanity, the moderation, and the inflexible firmness, with which this serious duty was performed, are worthy of all praise. While the English general was vainly resorting to menaces, the American authorities were proceeding with deliberation to their object. A feeling of universal compassion was excited in favour of him who had been captured which probably received some portion of its intenseness from the general indignation against him who had escaped. While the necessity of an example in an offence as grave as this was felt by all, it required no peculiar moral vision to see that the real criminal was free. Some time is said to have been lost, during which Washington
* See History of Serjeant Champe, in Lee's Memoirs.
It has often been erroneously stated; that, anxious to vindicate himself in the eyes of foreign nations, Washington employed the European generals in the service, on the court which was to decide the fate of André.
Every
general officer in his army was a member, and the foreigners were necessarily included
Whatever might have been the original error of André, in accepting a duty of so doubtful a nature, there is but one opinion of his subsequent conduct. It was highly noble and manly. The delicacy of the court, and his own frankness, were alike admirable Though admonished to say nothing that might commit himself, or even concealment. A pretence had been set up by the British general, that he had entered the American ranks, under the protection of a flag. He was asked if he himself had entertained such an opinion. “Had I come with a flag, I might have returned with a flag;” was his noble answer. He had landed at the entrance of the Highlands, and at a point where a sentinel had not been posted for a long time. It was thought, in the army, that Arnold had caused a sentinel, to be posted there anew as a precaution of safety, in the case of detection. He might have pretended that his only object was to entrap his enemy. André himself confessed, that when hailed by this sentinel, he thought himself lost. This confession, alone, had other proofs been wanting, was enough to show his own opinion of the legal character of his enterprise. He proceeded, however, and was conducted by Arnold farther into
After his condemnation, Major André received even possible indulgence. A fruitless negotiation took place between the adverse generals, with a hope, on the part of Clinton, to intimidate, and on the part of Washington in order to manifest a spirit of moderation, no less than to give the time necessary to complete the plan to arrest the arch-traitor. It was once suggested to André that he might still be exchanged for Arnold. “If Arnold could—” said Hamilton, who made the proffer. “Stop,” returned the condemned man, “such a proposition can never come from
me.
”
There is reason to think that André. had soothed himself in the earlier part of his captivity, with hopes that were fated to be deceived. It had been the misfortune of the English to undervalue the Americans, and it is quite in nature for a young man, who, it is well known, had often indulged in bitter sarcasms against enemies he despised, to believe that a nation he held so cheap, must have sonic of his own awe of a government and a power he thought invincible It is certain he always spoke of Sir Henry Clinton (the English commander-in-chief) with the affection and confidence of a child, until he received his last letter, which he read in much agitation, thrust into his pocket, and never afterwards mentioned his general's name. He confessed his ancient prejudices, but admitted they were all removed by the tender treatment denied the justice of his sentence. It is known,
U 2
There were in England (naturally enough perhaps) many who affected to believe this execution had sullied the fair character of Washington. But these miserable moralists and their opinions have passed away; and while they are consigned to oblivion together the fame they thought to have impeached is brightening, as each day proves how difficult it is to imitate virtues so rare. Among impartial and intelligent men, this very act of dignity and firmness, tempered as it was by so much humanity, adds to the weight of his imposing character.
We came-to at West Point, where La Fayette landed amid a magnificent uproar of echoes, which repeated, from the surrounding mountains, the quick discharges of a small park of artillery. The great military school of the republic is established here. The buildings stand on an elevated plain, which is washed by the river on two of its sides, and is closely environed with rocky mountains on the others. It is altogether a wild and picturesque scene, equalling in beauty almost any that I remember to have visited. Perhaps a better site could not possibly have been selected for the purpose to which it is at present devoted, than West Point. The
élévés
, who are to all intents young soldiers, enjoy, by means of the river, and the great number of steam-boats that pass and repass each hour of the day, the advantage of speedy communication with the largest town in the country, while they are as completely secluded by their nearly inaccessible mountains, as can be desired. It is quite common for travellers to pass a few hours at this spot; a circumstance which affords to the cadets the incentive of a constant interest in their establishment, on the part of the better portion of the community, while they are completely protected from the danger of
New-York,—
Neither
the geographical situation of the United States, nor the habits of their citizens, are very favourable to the formation of a military character. Though the republic has actually been engaged in six wars, since the year 1776, only two have been of a nature to require the services of land troops in the field. The two struggles with England were close, and always, for the number engaged in the
By studying the character of the people, and by looking closely into their history, it will be found that they contain the elements to form the best of troops. In point of
physique
they are certainly no surpassed. So far as the eye can judge, I should say that men of great stature and strength are about as common in America as elsewhere; while small men are more rare. I am much inclined to think that the aggregate of mere animal force would be found to be somewhat above the level of Europe in its best parts. This is not at all surprising, when one remembers the excellence and abundance of nutriment which is within the reach of the very poorest. Though little men are, without doubt, seen here, they are by no means as frequent as in England, in the southern provinces of France, in Italy, Austria, and indeed almost every where else.
* The writer afterwards found what he is almost tempted to call a race of big men in the south-western States.
As might be expected, the military qualities which the Americans have hitherto exhibited, are more resembling those which distinguish the individual character of the soldier, than those higher attainments which mark an advanced knowledge of the art of war. As courage in its best aspect is a moral attribute, a nation of freemen must always be comparatively brave. In that collective energy which is the fruit of discipline, the Americans, except in a few instances, have been sadly deficient; but in that personal spirit, for which discipline is merely a substitute, they have as often been remarkable. They are certainly the only people who have been known to resist, with repeated success, in their character of armed citizens,
The investigation of this subject has led me, perhaps, into a singular comparison. At the great battle of Waterloo, the actual English force in the field is said to have been 36,000 men. These troops undauntedly bore the assault of perhaps rather more than an equal number. This assault was supported by a tremendous train of artillery, and directed by the talents of the greatest captain of the age. It endured, including the cannonading of the artillery, for at least five hours. The official account of the British loss is 9,999 men, killed and wounded. At the affair of Bunker's hill, the Americans might have had between 2,000 and 2,500 yeomen actually engaged. Though these men were marshalled in companies, their captains knew little more of military service than the men themselves. There was positively no commander, in the usual sense of the word. The aptitude of these people soon enables them to assume the form of an army; but it is plain that nothing except practice can impart the habits necessary to create good troops. At Bunker's hill, they enjoyed, in their preliminary proceedings, the advantage of a certain degree of order and method, that elevated them something, it is true, above an armed mob; but it is probable that they could not have made, with any tolerable accuracy, a single complicated movement at their greatest leisure, much less in the confusion of a combat.was
approached in this manner, and it
was
turned. As to the rail fences on the level land beneath, where much of the combat was fought, and where the British were twice repulsed with terrible loss, the defences were rather ideal than positive. Now, against this force, and thus posted, the English general directed 3,000 of his best troops. His attack was supported by field artillery, by the fire of a heavy battery on an adjacent height, and by that of several vessels of war. The Americans were incapable of making any movements to profit by the trifling advantages their position did afford, and they had no artillery. They merely remained stationary to await the assault, relying solely on that quality of moral firmness, and on that aptitude which it is the object of this statement to elucidate by a comparison of the results of this combat with the results of Waterloo. The English made three different attacks. Their average continuance under the fire of the Americans was less than fifteen minutes. Their loss was certainly 1056 men, and possibly more, for it is not probable that their general would be found, under the peculiar circumstances, of proclaiming its full extent. Here, then, assuming our data to be true, (and that they are substantially so I fully believe,) we have a greater comparative loss produced by 2,500 husbandmen, armed solely with muskets, in
There is another point of view, in which it is consolatory to study the short military history of this country. The States of New-England, in which information has been so generally diffused, have always been the most dangerous to assail. A powerful force (for the times and the duty) was, in the war of 1775, early driven disgracefully from their soil by the people of New-England. It is true, rapid, predatory excursions were afterwards made in the country, but always under the protection of a superior naval force,
It would be vain to deny the excellence of the American troops when properly equipped and disciplined. If the English soldiers are admitted to be as good as common, the Americans are equal to the best. I have examined with deep interest the annals of both their wars, and I can find but a solitary instance in which (other things being equal) their
disciplined
troops have been defeated in open combat. Their generals have often been out-manœuvred and deservedly disgraced; but their disciplined soldiers, when fairly engaged, have, except in the case named (Hobkirk's hill,) invariably done well. The instances in which drilled soldiers have been left to their own efforts, are certainly rare, compared to those in which they have been blended with nominal regulars and militia; but they are sufficiently numerous to show the qualities of the troops. I refer you to the affairs of Cowpens, Eutaw, and to the whole war of the south, under Greene, which was almost all the service that was exclusively done with drilled me in the revolution, and to the battles on the Niagara, during the late war. There are also many instances in which the regular troops (drilled men) did excellent service, in battles where they were defeated in consequence of being too few to turn the fate of the day.
It is another evidence of the effects of general intelligence, that, disciplined or not, the Americans are always formidable when entrenched. They have been surprised (not as often, perhaps, as they have surprised,) taken by siege, though rarely, and frequently disgraced
With this brief review of their military character, which does not stand as high as it deserves, merely because there has been a sad dearth of efficient leaders, capable of conducting operations on a concerted and extensive scale, I think you will agree with me that the Americans are not in much danger of being the victims of a conquest. They turn the idea themselves into high ridicule. Some of them go so far as to assert, that Europe, united, could not subdue a people so remote, so free, and protected by so many natural advantages. It is very certain, that whatever Europe might do now, she could not overturn this republic, if it shall remain united, fifty years hence.
The Americans seems quite determined that a future war shall not find them so entirely without preparation as the last. In the great concerns of the day, few of us, in Europe, had time or inclination to lend our attention to the details of that war and with the exception of the actors, and perhaps a few of the leading events, little is known of it, even by the English who were parties to the struggle. As I intend to close this chapter with a brief account of the present military system of the United States, it may be well to
Vol. I.
X
The insurrection of 1775, was commenced under every military disadvantages. It is well-known fact that Washington kept the British army beleaguered in Boston, with an undisciplined force not always numerically superior, and which was for a long period so destitute of ammunition, that it could not have maintained a sharp conflict of half an hour. Yet the high resolution of this people supported them in the fie]d, not as an enthusiastic and momentarily excited mob, but as grave and thoughtful men, intently bent on their object, and who knew how to assume such an aspect of order and method, in the midst of all their wants, as should and did impose on their skilful and brave enemies. Some minute calculations may be useful in furnishing a correct opinion of that contest, and, of course, in enabling us to judge of the effects which intelligence (the distinctive property of the American community) has on the military character of a nation.
In the year 1790, there were in the United States 814,000 white males over the age of sixteen (fractions are excluded.) It is known that the population of the country has doubled in about twenty-three years. This calculation should give 407,000 of the same description of males, in the year 1767; or about 600,000 in the year 1779, which was the epoch when the final issue of the revolution might be said to have been decided by the capture of Burgoyne. If we deduct for age, physical disabilities, religious scruples, (as among the Quakers,) and disaffection to the cause, 100,000, a number probably greatly within the truth, we shall have half a million of men capable of bearing arms, to resist the power of Britain. I am sensible that this enumeration rather exceeds than falls short of the truth. England employed, at one time,with
their intelligence, and determination, it was favourable to their success,
without
it would have assured their defeat in detail. The formidable army of their enemies was sustained by the presence of powerful fleets; was led by experienced generals, and always fought bravely, and with perfect good will. Yet what was it able to perform? From New-England, the only portion of the whole country where a tolerably dense population existed, a great force was early expelled in disgrace. A few cities on the sea-coast were held by strong garrisons, which rarely ventured out with success. The only great expedition attempted in the north, was signally defeated. In the middle districts, marches of one or two hundred miles were made, it is true, and several battles were fought, commonly to the advantage of discipline and numbers; but in the only instance where an extended chain of communication was attempted, it was destroyed by the vigour of Washington. In the south, a scattered population, and the presence of slaves, allowed a temporary, but a treacherous success. Reverses soon followed; the conquered territory was regained, and triumph ensued This is a summary of the outline of that war. If to the soldiers, be added the seamen of the fleet, a species of force nearly, or quite, as useful in such a war as the troops, there could scarcely be less than 80,000 men employed in endeavouring to reduce the malcontents. When the magnitude of the stake, and the power of Britain, be considered, this number will scarcely appear sufficient. Here, then, admitting these estimates to be just, you have a regular, combined
In the war of 1812, the country was much better provided, though still miserably defective in military preparation, and in scientific knowledge. The whole population was about 8,000,000, and, though joined as one man on the subject of independence, and the maintenance of territory, nearly equally divided on the question of the policy of the war. A capital blunder was committed at the very commencement of the struggle. Instead of placing young and talented men at the head of the armies, officers of the revolution were sought for to till those situations. The Greenes, the Waynes, the Lincolns, Knoxes, &c. of that war had followed, or preceded, their great chief to the tomb, and few or none were left, of sufficient distinction, to yield a pledge for their future usefulness. The very fact that a man had served in a revolution without
éclat
, should have been
prima facie
evidence of his incapacity. Still, ancient officers, who had commanded regiments, or battalions, in the war of 1770, were thought preferable to those who had acquired their information in studying the more modern tactics. The result proved as might be expected. Not a single officer of the old school (one excepted) did any thing to justify his appointment, while several of them inflicted heavy disgraces on the arms of the country. The exception was General Jackson, who was far too young to have arrived
The last war commenced in the middle of 1812, and terminated at the commencement of 1815. With the usual exceptions of personal enterprise and courage, the two first campaigns were disgraceful, expensive, and unmilitary. But time was already beginning to correct the blunders of a fatal prejudice, or rather fatal partiality. Men of character and talents forced themselves into notice; and although there existed, in the conceptions of the manner in which the war was to be conducted, a most lamentable impotency in the cabinet, the campaign of 1814 was brilliant in achievement. With the solitary exception of a rapid expedition to Washington, through a barren and nearly uninhabited country, the English were not successful in a single attempt of any important Four bloody affairs were fought on the Niagara, to the advantage of the Americans; fomfidable invasions on the north and on the south were successfully, and, in one instance, brilliantly repelled; and, in fine, the troops of the confederation, better drilled, and better led, began to exhibit some of the finest qualities of first-rate soldiers. There is no doubt that England nobly maintained her colonies, which, of necessity, became the disputed point in such a war; but it is just as true, that so soon as, encouraged by finding herself unexpectedly released from her great European struggle, she attempted conquest in her turn, she was quite as signally foiled.
Another quarter of a century may be necessary to raise the United States to the importance of a first-rate power, in the European sense. At the end of that time, their population will be about 25,000,000, which, though not compact, according to our ideas, will be sufficiently available for all military purposes, by means of the extraordinary facilities of intercommunication
X 2
The present military condition of the United States, though far from imposing, is altogether more respectable than it has ever before been. One who is accustomed to see kings manœuvre large bodies of household troops as their ordinary playthings, might smile to be told that the whole army of this great republic contains but 6,000 men. The Bourbons seldom lie down, dear Count, without as strong a force to watch their slumbers. But he who estimates the power of this people to injure, or to resist, by the number of its regular troops, makes a miserable blunder. The habit of discipline and the knowledge of military details are kept alive by the practice of this small force. They are chiefly employed on the western frontier, or they garrison, by companies, the posts on the seaboard. They answer all the objects of preserving order on the one, and of guarding the public property in the other. But the vast improvement of the country is in the progress, and in the gradual diffusion of professional knowledge. All the subordinate ranks in this little army are filled by young men, who have received rigid military educations, tempered by a morality, and a deference to the institutions of the land, that are elsewhere little cultivated, and which tend to elevate the profession, by rendering a soldier strictly the support, and not the master of the community.
It is not probable that the jealousy of the Americans will ever admit of the employment of a very large regular force in time of peace. They prefer
We have an obstinate habit of insisting that, though America is prospering with all her freedom and economy, her system would be fatal to any European nation. I once ventured to assert this position to my travelling friend, who met my opinion by bluntly asking—“How do you know it? In what age, or in What country, did you ever try the experiment? I grant that certain desperate political adventures have been attempted, in which a few good men have joined a great many bad ones, in overturning governments, and that the mockery of liberty has been assumed by the latter, until it suited their convenience to throw aside the mask, and then tyranny has succeeded to the temporary deception, as a perfect matter of course. But so far as the experience of Europe goes, and considering the question altogether in a military point of view. I think it will be found that the freest nations have,
cateris paribus
, always been found the the most difficult to conquer. I might qoute Scotland,
But the Americans appear sensible, that while the irresistible force of every nation exists in giving all of its citizens the deepest possible interest in its welfare, they do not neglect such rational means of rendering their number as effective as may be, without rendering the system of defence unnecessarily burthensome. There can be no doubt, that in this respect at least the republic is greatly favoured by its geographidal position. Removed from all the ordinary dangers of external aggression; the country is able to advance in its career of improvement, with the freedom of a child, whose limbs are permitted to grow, and, whose chest expands, unshackled by the vicious effects of swaddlings, or any other artificial correctives.
Compared with its state in 1812, the present military condition of the United States presents the following points of difference. Instead of possessing a few indifferently educated graduates of an infant military school, it has now hundreds, who have long enjoyed the advantages of far higher instruction. The corps of engineers, in particular, is rapidly inproving, and is already exceedingly respectable. A system of order and exactitude has been introduced into the police and commissariat of the army, which will serve to render any future force doubly effective, and which may be readily to meet the exigencies of the largest armies. Formidable fortresses have been erected, or are in progress of erection, which will give security to most of the coast, and
* The average amount of customs for ten years before the war, a little exceeded 12,000,000 of dollar a year; it may now be stated at about 20,000,000.
It is a mistaken idea that the Americans are a people so much engaged in commerce as to be indifferent to the nicer points of national honour and military renown. It is far more true to describe them as a people who have the hitherto been removed from the temptation of aggression, and in whom the native principles of justice have in consequence, never been weakened. One hears a great deal in France, among the upper classes, of the French honour, and in England of British character, &c, &c.; but neither of these nations has ever manifested one half the jealous watchfulness of their rights as these simple republicans. They dared the war of their independence in the maintenance of a perfectly abstract principle, for no one pretends that the taxation of England was oppressive in fact; and at this hour, it becomes very necessary for the graver heads of the nation to temper
It may serve, to give you an idea of the different attitude this country takes in 1825, from what it maintained in 1812, by stating two facts. It is well known that thousands of their citizens were impressed with impunity, into the British navy, before the latter period. There was a false rumour the other day that a similar act had occurred on the coast of Africa I heard but one opinion on the subject. “We must have explanation and justice without delay.” Cad wallader says, that he can hardly imagine a case in which two or three impressments (unless subject to clear explanations) would not how to produce a war The rumour, that England was to become mistress
It is not difficult to see, that the day is at hand when this republic will be felt in the great general political questions of christendom. It may then be fortunate for humanity, that the mighty power she will shortly wield, is to be exercised to satisfy the ambitions of individuals, but that they who will have to bear this burthen of the contest, will also have a direct influence on their existence. Neither the institutions, nor the necessities of America, are ominous of a thirst for conquest; but, with her widely-spread commerce it will be impossible to avoid frequent and keen collisions with other nations, I think, for a long time to come, that her armies will be chiefly confined to the defensive. But an of liker but anotker and avery different question presents itself when we turn our attention towards her fleets.
New-York,—
After having ascended the Hudson as far as Albany, in company with La Fayette, and taken our leave of the veteran, our faces were turned west. At that place we saw a few remaining evidences of the Dutch, in the names and in the construction of a good many houses; but the city containing about 16,000 inhabitants) is chiefly modern. Our route, for sixty or seventy miles, was along one of the great thorough.
Vol. I
The three States named, are computed to cover a surface of about 131,000 square miles; being a little larger than the two islands of Great Britain and Ireland united. Their population at the present time, must be something short of four millions. * In 1820, the population of these three States, by the these census, was 3,003,614. But State have since been taken in several of the States. The Government of the United States causes a census to be taken once in ten years, commencing with the year 1790. By this estimate the Representatives for Congress apportioned. When the State, cause the intermediate census to be taken, it is to answer the objects of their internal policy. The representatives for the State legislative bodies are frequently altered to meet the results. The census of 1820 gave New-York 1,372,812 inhabitants; that of 1825, 1,616,000; the increase has been greatest, however, in the newer State of Ohio, which has nearly doubled its population in in the few intervening. * Men who fell the trees, and convert them into the various objects of use, such as staves, &c. † 1828.
You will always remember that the American, in seeking a spot for his establishment, has great scope for his election; and that, in consequence, he invariably seeks the more fertile lands, or such spots as afflord desirable facilities for commerce or manufactures. Thus, valleys are occupied in succession frequently for a hundred miles the crests of the mountains are left in the forest, the fields of the husbandman gradually climbing their sides, as his lng ing riches or greater necessities shall tempt him to apply the axe. Some of the best of the land, and many of the best agriculturists; however are often found on the summits of hills of a few hundred feet in elevation. I think it is rather a peculiarity in American scenery, that the mountains are, in common, less abrupt, and more easily to be tilled, than with us. This is a circumstance which adds to their usefulness what it subtracts from their beauty, But where such a variety of natural formation, no less than of artificial improvement, exists in a country, it is not easy to convey very accurate ideas of its appearance, a few words, The exceptions are so numerous as to confound the images, You will know how to make the proper allowances for my imperfect descriptions, and I shall therefore pursue then, in the confidence that I am addressing a man who will not believe that a bear is to be seen in a dwelling, because he was told one was met in a forest at no great distance from the place where it stands. This confusion of ideas is the blunder of Europeans, in picturing their images of American scenery as well as of republican manners. They hear of churches academies, wild beasts, savages, beautiful women, steam-boats, and ship; and, means of very superficial process, I am satisfied that nine in ten contract opinion which bring wolf, beauty, churches,sixty
-gun frigates in strange and fantastic collision. Now, when one, is in a thriving settlement, or succession of settlements, in what is called the new country, (and they are seen by thousands every, where), the only difference between the aspect of things here and in Europe, is in the freshness of objects, the absence of ancient monuments the ordinary national differences in usages and arrangement, an air of life and business, always in favour of America and a few peculiarities which blend the conveniences of civilized life with the remains of the wilderness, in a manner that I shall shortly attempt to describe.
Once for all, dear Waller, I wish you to understand that—a few peaceable and half-civilized remains of tribes, that have been permitted to reclaim small. portions of land, excepted—an inhabitant of New-York is actually as far removed from a savage as an inhabitant of London. The former has to traverse many hundred leagues of territory to enjoy even the sight of an Indian, in a tolerably wild condition; and the latter may obtain a similar, gratification at about the same expense of time and distance, by crossing the ocean to Labrador. A few degraded descendants the ancient warlike possessors of this country are indeed seen wandering among the settlements, but the Indian must now be chiefly sought west of the Mississippi, to be found in any of his savage grandeur.
Cases do occur, beyond a doubt, in which luckless individuals are induced to make their settlement in some. unpropitious spot where the current of emigration obstinately refuses to run. These subjects of an unfortunate speculation are left to struggle for years in a condition between rude civilization, and one approaching to that of the hunter, or to abandon their possessions, and to seek a happier section of the country. Nine times in ten, the latter course is adoptetd. But when this tide of emigration has set
Y 2
As to wild beasts, savages, &c. &c. &c. &c., they have no existence in these regions. A solitary bear, or panther, or even a wolf, wandering near the flocks of a country twenty years old, has an effect like that produced by an invasion. In the earlier days of the settlement, it is a task to chase the ravenous, beasts from the neighbourhood. A price is offered for their heads, and for a time a mutual destruction against destruefion againt the flocks on one side, and the beasts on the other, is the consequence. In a year or two, this task is reduced to an occasional duty. In a few more, it is sought as an amusement: and ere the twenty years expire, the appearance of a wolf among the Americann farms is far less common than on the most ancient plains of certain parts of France. Every man has his rifle or his musket; and every man not only knows how, but he is fond of using them against such foes. Thus, you see, though wild beasts may be permitted, like Raphael's Seraphim, to encircle your pictures of American manners in faint relief, they must rarely indeed be permitted to enter into the action of the piece; more especially if the scene be laid in any of the settled portions of the three States that form the subject of this letter.
We made part of this excursion in the public stages, part with hired horses, and part in steamboats. It is impossible to enter on a description of the surface of the country we saw, for it included mountains, valleys, and vast plains, intermingled in such a manner as to render the task wearisome. We had gone about fifty miles west of Albany, when my companion desired the vehicle to stop, and invited me to mount a gentle ascent on foot. On reaching the summif, he turned and pointed to a view which resembled none I had ever before witnessed.
We were travelling, along the termination, of a range of mountains, which, running north and south, fell gracefully away, in the former direction, into
There was perhaps an equal distribution of field and forest. The latter term is not, however, the best, since it was a constant succession of open land and of wood, in proportions which, without being exactly, were surprisingly equal. You have stood upon a height, and looked down upon a fertile French plain, over which agriculture has been conducted on a scale a little larger than common. You may remember the divisions formed by the hues of the grains of the vineyards, and of the grasses, which give to the whole an air so chequered and remarkable. Now, by extending the view to the size I have named, and enlarging these chequered spots to a corresponing scale, you get a tolerably accurate idea of what would describe. The dark green shadows are produced by the foliage of wood, reserved, perhaps, for the use of half a dozen farms, and lying in a body, common objection to culture influencing that
* The great canal, 360 miles in length.
As I looked upon this scene, I felt it only wanted the recollections and monuments of antiquity to give it the deepest interest. The opinion might have escaped my lips, amid the expressions of a sincere delight. My companion gently touched an arm, and directed my attention from the view to himself. He was standing at my elbow with an open map of the country in his hand. As he met my eye, he gravely said, “You complain of the absence of association to give its secret, and perhaps greatest charm which such a sight is capable of inspiring. You complain unjustly. The moral feeling with which a man of sentiment and knowledge looks upon the plains of your hemisphere, is connected with his recollections; here it should be mingled with his hopes. The same effort of the mind is as equal to the one as to the other. Examine this map. You see our position, and you know the space that lies between us and the sea. Now look westward, and observe how many degrees of longitude, what broad reaches of territory must be passed before you gain the limits of our establishments, and the consequent reign of abundance and civilization.” Here he dropped the map; and I fancied he even spoke with solemnity, as he continued—“Count—,” he said, “you see that I am a man of middle age: list to what even my short memory extends. Along the river which lies hid in the deep valley before us, the labours of man have existed for more than a century. There are one or two shallow streams near us, along which the enterprise of the settlers early directed itself. A few miles to the west, we shall enter a little valley, where a handfull of refugees from Ireland took up their abodes some eight years ago; and there are other insulated spots, where solitary individuals trusted to the savage, and raised their simple dwellings before the war of the revolution. But that little plain, at our feet, could have fed, and clothed, and
Cadwallader ceased, and we re-entered the carriage in silence. He had spoken with his customary warmth and decision, but I felt that he had spoken the truth. I began to look around me with new eyes, and instead of seeking subjects of exulting comparison between what I saw here and what I had left behind me, I found new subjects of admiration and of wonder at every turn. You may be assured I was not so ignorant as to forget that the first step in all improvements is more imposing than the subsequent; that to clear a country of its wood is in itself a greater visible change, than to supply the place of the latter with the more finished accompaniments of civilization; but the progress of which I was a witness, bounded itself by no such vulgar deception.
Shortly after this detention, we entered the village of Cherry-Valley, which was the spot named by my friend as the place originally occupied by the Irish emigrants. It is a village of perhaps a hundred dwellings, seated on a little plain, and is remarkable for nothing, amid its numberless, neat, spacious, and convenient sisters. This place, now rather east of the
* The late John Wells, of New-York.
Our route now lay, for many miles, amid mountains. The scenery was always striking—sometimes wild and peculiar, at others as soft and lovely as valleys, streams, and quiet, could make it. We passed the night at Cooperstown, the shire or county town of Otsego. As we were now completely off all the great routes west, and in a part of the country that had been settled about forty years, I profited by the opportunity to make a few statistical inquiries, that may serve to give a tolerably accurate general idea of this portion of the country.
The county of Otsego covers, as near as I could ascertain, less than a thousand square miles. Its population in 1826 was 47,000 souls. By allowing for the increase of numbers since, the proportion will give rather more than fifty inhabitants to the square mile. Cooperstown is the largest place in the county, containing less than fifteen hundred inhabitants, and consequently this is the rate of the agricultural and manufacturing population of an entirely inland, and
Vol. I
There resided formerly near this village a gentleman who is the reputed author * The Americans, like the English, rarely put their names to any light works. † The Americans call all that portion of their territory which has been settled since the revolution “new.” If the State has been created since that period, it is a “new State”; but Otsego, and indeed all of New-York, is already getting, by comparison, to be “old.”
You will recollect, that those descriptions of girdled trees, of which we read in Europe, as forming a part of American scenery, are rather exceptions, than characteristics. It is a manner of
improving
certainly much practised at the south, and sometimes in the more northern States; but it is far from being either the best, or the ordinary mode of clearing land, in any great section of the country. The tree is commonly felled by cutting it at such a distance from the earth, as may be most convenient to the stature of the chopper. The trunk is then divided into suitable lengths, and the branches are severed, and collected. With the exceptions of such trees as are selected for lumber, the whole are piled in heaps of sufficient size to insure their consumption by fire. The latter process is called logging. The brand is next applied, and the whole field is subjected to a temporary, but fierce action of the element. Nothing can be more dreary and savage in aspect, than an extensive plain, or a valley, which has thus been completely blackened by fire. They are frequent in the newer districts, but comparatively rare in those of ten or fifteen years' establishment.
The admixture of civilization with these wild-looking memorials of a state of nature, is, indeed, the chief distinctive feature between a landscape in the newer districts of America, and one in out own Europe. There are certainly other points of difference, but I should describe this as the principal and most striking. One can soon become accustomed to the universal use of fences; to even what appears to be
* The American fences vary according to the quarter of the country in which they are situated. They are often well built, and even handsome, low walls of stone. The writer saw not only farms, but large districts, subdivided into fields of from five to fifty acres in this manner. Next to these, are fences, of which the basements are made of stone, and the summits of rails. Posts and rails come next, and are found every where in the second stage of improvement. A fence that is called a “worm fence,” from its being composed of rails with the ends alternately laid on each other, in the form of a screen, is much in use, especially where the abundance of timber renders labour a greater object than wood. The first, and certainly the most natural, if not the most durable, division of the land, is by what is called the “log-fence.” This is formed by laying the trunks of trees in a line, with their ends doubling for a couple of feet. Notches are cut in the ends of these logs, and billets of wood are laid in them to connect the ends. The upper sides of the billets are also notched, and they serve for the foundations of new tiers. Three logs piled in this manner make an efficient fence. The duration is, of course, according to the quality of the tree. Perhaps ten years may be fixed for the average. Hedges are very rare, Fences are sometimes made of stumps, extracted by the roots from the earth.
New-York,—
The
day after we had quitted Cooperstown, w saw a collection of people assembled in front of an inn, which was the principal edifice in a hamlet of perhaps a dozen houses. Cadwallader told me this was the first day of the State election, and that this spot was one of the polls, a name which answers in some degree to the English term, “hustings.” Fortunately, the stage changed horses at the inn, and I had an opportunity of examining the incipient step in that process which literally dictates all the national policy of this great republic.
Although each State controls its own forms, not only in the elections, but in every thing else, a description of the usages of one poll will be sufficiently near the truth to give a correct general idea of them all. I now speak literally only of the State of New-York, though, generally, of the whole Union. The elections occur once a year. * There is one State where they occur twice—the little State of Rhode Island, which is still governed by the form of its ancient charter, as granted by Charles II. in 1663. As this is practically the most democratic State in the Union, it affords pretty good evidence that the experiment of a democratic government is not so new in America as some pretend.
Z 2
The most democratic assemblage known to the laws, in which legal and binding resolutions can be enacted, are the town meetings. Any number of the people may assemble when and where they please, to remonstrate, to petition, or even to plot, if they see fit; but their acts can only be recommendatory. The town meetings are held annually, and every citizen who has attained his majority can vote. A moderator (no bad name for a perfectly popular assembly) is chosen by acclamation to preside. The meeting is commonly held in some school-house, but very often in the open air. In some places, though rarely, there are town-houses. At these meetings, all the town officers are chosen. They consist of a supervisor; three assessors, who apportion all the taxes on the individuals, whether imposed by town, county, state, or United States; collectors, who collect all the taxes, except those laid by the United States government, which in time of peace, are just nothing at all; a town-clerk, who keeps certain registers; constable, poor-officers, overseers of highways, path-masters, and a few others. The names of most of these officers indicate their duties. The overseers of the highway are the men who lay out the ordinary roads of the town, and who say how much tax each individual shall contribute in work or in money; and
The next body in the scale of the government is the board of supervisors. It is composed of the supervisors of each town in a county, as is possessed by their constituents in the towns themselves. They impose taxes for all objects connected with the expenses of the county. Their authority is, however, a good deal circumscribed; enactments by the State legislature being often necessary to enforce their recommendations. When the question involves an expense heavier than common, and its effects are entirely local, the question is often referred to a final decision of the people in their town meetings. This board audits the accounts, and I believe it appoints a treasurer for the county. So far you see the process of government is exceedingly simple. The whole legislative duty is discharged in three or four days, and yet the decisions have great influence on the comfort and property of the people. The duties of the officers named, continue for one year, but the same in cumbents are frequently continued for a whole life especially the collectors, treasurers, constables, and clerks.
Each town is also subdivided into school districts, and road districts. There are overseers of the schools, who regulate all that belongs to the familiar duties of the common schools of the country, to which any body may go.
Each township is also a petty electoral district of
Now, complicated as this system may seem in words, it is perfectly simple in practice. It is astonishing how clearly it is understood by those who exercise it, and how difficult it is to make a foreigner get a correct idea of its details. All the elections, except those which are made at the town meetings, where other duties necessarily assemble the citizens, are held at the same time, and at the same place. Thus an American, in one of the more populous States, can exercise all his constitutional rights at an
The election on the present occasion embraced senators, (always for the State,) representatives in the assembly, * The more popular branch of the State legislature, as it is sometimes called, though both are popular alike. The difference is principally in the term of service, and in some exercise of power.
After quitting the poll, we familiarly discussed the merits and demerits of this system of popular elections. In order to extract the opinions of my friend, several of the more obvious and ordinary objections were started, with a freedom that induced him to speak with some seriousness.
“You see a thousand dangers in universal suffrage,” he said, “merely because you have been taught to think so, without ever having seen the experiment tried. The Austrian would be very apt to say, under the influence of mere speculation too, that it would be fatal to government to have any representation at all; and a vizier of the Grand Turk might find the mild exercise of the laws, which is certainly practised in Austria Proper, altogether fatal to god order.
* No voter can put in two ballots, since all are compelled to place them in the hands of an inspector. In case two ballots are found rolled together, both are rejected. Thus fraud is impossible.
“There can be no, doubt that, under a bald theory, a representation would be all the better if the most ignorant, profligate, and vagabond part of the community, were excluded from the right of voting. It is just as true, that if all the rogues and corrupt politicians, even including those who read Latin, and have well-lined pockets, could be refused the right of voting, honest men would fare all the better. But as it is very well known that the latter are not, nor cannot well be excluded from the right of suffrage any where, except in a despotism, we have come to the conclusion, that it is scarcely worth while to do so much violence to natural justice, without sufficient reason, as to disfranchise a man merely because hequalification
of property may sometimes be useful, in particular conditions of society, there can be no greater fallacy than its
representation.
The most vehement declaimers in favour of the justice of the representation of property, overlook two or three very important points of the argument. A man may be a voluntary associate in a joint-stock company, and justly have a right to a participation in its management, in proportion to his pecuniary interest; but life, is not a chartered institution. Men are born with all their wants and passions, their means of enjoyment, and their sources of misery, without any agency of their own, and frequently to their great discomfort. Now, though government is, beyond a doubt, a sort of compact, it would seem that those who prescribe its conditions are under a natural obligation to consult the rights of the whole. If men, when a little better than common, were any thing like perfect, we might hope to see power lodged with safety in the hands of a reasonable portion of the enlightened, without any danger of its abuse. But the experience of the world goes to prove, that there is a tendency to monopoly, wherever power is reposed in the hands of a minority. Nothing is more likely to be true, than that twenty wise men will unite in opinion in opposition to a hundred fools; but nothing is more certain than that, if placed in situations to control all the interests of their less gifted neighbours, the chance is, that fifteen or sixteen of them would pervert their philosophy to selfishness. This was at least our political creed, and we therefore admitted a vast majority of the community to a right of voting. Since the hour of the revolution, the habits, opinions, laws, and I may say principles of the Americans, are getting daily to be more democratic. We are perfectly aware, that while the votes of a few thousand scattered individuals can make no great or lasting impression on the
Vol. I. A
a
“The theory of representation of property says, that the man who has little shall not dispose of the money of him who has more.much
that is prodigal of the public purse. A sum that is trifling in his account, may constitute the substance of one who is poorer. Beyond all doubt, the government of the world, which is most reckless of the public money, is that in which power is the exclusive property of the very rich; and, beyond all doubt, the government of the world which, compared with its means, is infinitely the most sparing of its resources, is that in which they who enact the laws are compelled to consult the wishes of those who have the least to bestow. It is idle to say that art enlarged and liberal policy governs the measures of the one, and that the other is renowned for a narrowness which has lessened its influence and circumscribed its prosperity. I know not, nor care not, what men, who are dazzled with the glitter of things, may choose to say, but I am thoroughly convinced, from observation, that if the advice of those who were influenced by what is called a liberal policy, had been followed in our country, we should have been a poorer and, consequently, a less important and less happy people than at present. The relations between political liberality, and what is called political prodigality, are wonderful intimate.
* When the numbers of those who have nothing, get to be so great as to make their voices of importance, it is time to think of some serious change.
We find that our government is cheaper, and
“As to the forms of our elections, you see that they are beyond example simple and orderly. After an experience of near forty years, I can say that I have never seen a blow struct, nor any other violent proceeding, at a poll. These things certainly do happen, but, in comparison with the opportunities, at remarkably long intervals. So far from the frequency of elections tending to disturb society, they produce an exactly different effect. A contest which is so soon to be repeated loses half its interest by familiarity. Vast numbers, of electors are content to be lookers-on, rarely approaching a poll, except to vote on some question at peculiar concern. The struggle is generally whether A'or B shall enjoy the temporary honour or the trifling emolument in dispute, the community seldom being much the better or the worse for the choice. People talk of the fluctuations which are necessarily the consequences of a popular government. They do not understand what they say Every other enlightened nation of the earth is at thi moment divided between great opposing principles; whereas here, if we except the trifling collisions of pecuniary interests, every body is of the same mind, except as to the ordinarily immaterial question of a choice between men. We have settled all the formidable points of policy, by conceding every thing that any reasonable man can ask. The only danger which exists to the duration of our confederacy (and that is not a question of a form of government, but one of
“It is unnecessary to say, that so far as mere convenience goes, this method of election can be practised by a hundred millions of people, as easily as by twelve. As to corruption, comparatively speaking, it cannot exist. No man can buy a state, a county, or even a town. In a hotly contested election, it is certainly sometimes practicable to influence votes enough to turn the scale but, unless the question involve the peculiar interests of the less fortunate class of society, it is clear both parties can bribe alike, and then the evil corrects itself. If the question be one likely to unite the interests and the prejudices of the humbler classes, nine times in ten it is both more humane and wiser that they should prevail. That sort of splendid and treacherous policy, which gives a fallacious lustre to a nation by oppressing those who have the most need of support, is manifestly as unwise as it is unjust. It violates the very principles of the compact, since governments are not formed to achieve, but to protect. After a sufficient force has been obtained to effect the first great objects of the association, the governed, and not the governors, are the true agents in every act of national prosperity. Look at America. What people, or what monarch, if you will, has done half so much as we have done, (compared to our means,) in the last half century, and precisely for the reason that the government is obliged to content itself with protection, or, at the most, with that assistance which, in the nature of things, strictly requires a concentrated action.
“It is of far less importance, according to our notions,
“Though we are glad to find that principles which we have practised, and under which we have prospered so long, are coming more in fashion in Europe, I think you must do us the justice to say, that we are not a nation much addicted to the desire of proselyting. For ourselves we have no fears, and as for other people, if they make some faint imitations of our system, and then felicitate themselves on their progress, we are well content they should have all the merit of inventors. That is a miserable rivalry, which would make a monopoly of happiness. I think, as a people, we rather admire you most when we see you advancing with moderation to your object, than when we here of the adoption of sudden and violent means. we have ever been reformers rather than revolutionists. Our own struggle for independence was not in its aspect a revolution. We contrived to give it all the dignity of a war, from the first blow. Although our generals and soldiers might not have been so well trained as those they fought against, they were far more humane, considerate, and, in the end, successful, than their adversaries. Our own progress has been gradual. It is not long since a trifling restriction existed on the suffrage of this very State. Experience proved that it excluded quite as many discreet men as its removal would admit of vagabonds. Now it is the distinguishing feature of our policy, that we consider man a reasonable being, and that we rather court, than avoid, the struggle between ignorance and intelligence. We find that this
A a 2a la bonne heure;
when we find that form of government best, depend on it, we shall not hesilate to adopt it. You are at perfect liberty, if you will, to establish a journal in favour of despotism under the windows of the Capitol. I will not promise you much patronage at first neither do I think you will be troubled with much serious opposition. At all events, there is nothing in the law to molest speculation. Now look behind you at the “poll” we have just left; reflect on this fact, and then draw your conclusions, of our own opinion, of the stability of our institutions. We may deceive ourselves, but you of Europe must exhibit a far more accurate knowledge of the state of our country, before we shall rely on your crude prognostics rather than on our own experience.”
I could scarcely assure myself that Cadwallader was not laughing at me during a good deal of the time
It is provoking to find a whole nation dwelling in this species of alarming security, for no other reason than that their vulgar and every-day practices teach them to rely on themselves, instead of trusting to the rational inferences of philanthropic theorists, who have so long been racking their ingenuity to demonstrate that a condition of society which has delusively endured for nearly two hundred years, has been in existence all that time in direct opposition to the legitimate deductions of the science of government.
Philadelphia,—.
Since
my last letter, I have visited New-Jersey the eastern parts of Pennsylvania, and Delaware. With the exception of Maine, Illinois, and Indiana, (quite new States,) I have now seen something of all those communities, which, in common parlance, are called the “free States,” in contradistinction to those which still encourage the existence of domestic slavery. As respects this material point of policy, the confederation is nearly equally divided in the number of States, thirteen having virtually gotten rid of slavery, and eleven still adhering to the system. The difference between the white population, however, is vastly more in favour of the “free States.” We shall not be far out of the way, in stating the whole of the white population of the United States at a little more than ten millions. Of this number, near, if not quite, seven millions are contained in the thirteen northern, middle, and north-western States.
This portion of the Union is governed by the same policy, and its inhabitants seek their prosperity in the same sources of wealth and in the same spirit of improvement. More than half of them are either natives of New-England, or are descended from those who were born in that district of the country. Together, the States I have named cover a surface of little less than 300,000 square miles. If the territory of Michigan be included, (which is not yet sufficiently populous to be a State,) the amount will be swelled to near 330,000. The former will give rather more than twenty-three to the square mile, as the rate of the whole population on the whole surface. But in
In the course of reflection on this subject, I have been led to inquire when these republics are to reach that ratio of population which, of necessity, is to compel them to adapt their institutions to the usages of European policy. The result is not quite so conclusive as one might at first be disposed to believe. I find that despotism flourishes with little or no opposition in Russia, a country of about twenty-five to the square mile; in Turkey, one of about fifty;free
towns!
* Both in Europe.
Here is pretty clear evidence, by that unanswerable argument—fact, that the populousness of a country is not necessarily to control the freedom or despotism of its institutions. But the United States have carried the freedom of their institutions too far, since they go much farther than we have ever found it wise or safe to go in Europe. England herself has stopped short of such excessive freedom. The latter position is certainly much nearer to the truth than the other, and yet if we should assemble even the
“I am of opinion,” says our accomplished, intelligent, and loyal prince, “that without a vast standing army, a nation can neither secure its frontiers, nor on occasion bring them properly within a ring fence. In what manner is a serf to be made to respect his lord, unless he see that the latter can enforce his rights by having recourse to the bayonet, or in what manner is even rank among ourselves to be regulated, without a common centre whence it must flow? It would be utterly impossible to keep an empire composed of subjects born in the arctic circle and subjects born on the Caspian, men speaking different languages, and worshipping Jesus and Mahomet, together, without such a concentration of power as shall place each in salutary fear of the ruler. It is quite clear that a nation without a vast standing army—”.
“I beg pardon for the interruption, mon Prince,” cries Professor Jansen: “I agree with you
in toto
, except as to the army. Certainly no spectacle is more beautiful than that of a kind and benevolent monarch, dwelling in the midst of his people like a father in the bosom of a vast family, and at once the source of order and the fountain of honour. Still I can see no great use in an overgrown army, which infallibly leads to a waste of money and a mispending of time. Soldiers are unquestionably necessary
“
Quant à moi
,” observes the colonel, making an apologetic bow, “I cannot agree with either the one or the other. An army before all things, but no despot; and, least of all, a despot who does nothing but stay at home and vegetate on his throne. If I must have an absolute monarch, King Stork any day to King Log. In my youth, I will confess, certain visions of glory floated before my eyes, and conquest appeared the best good of life; but time and hard service have weakened these impressions, and I can now plainly perceive all the advantages of
La Charte.
In a constitutional monarchy, one can enjoy the advantages of a despotism without any of its disadvantages. You have an army to vindicate the national honour, as ready, as brave, and as efficient, as though the power of its head were unlimited; and yet you have not the constant danger of
lettres de cachet
, bastiles, and monks. By a judicious division of estates, those odious monopolies, which have so fatal a tendency to aristocracy—”
“If you stop there, dear Jules,” interrupts a certain Sir Edward Waller, “we shall be in the majority, and the question is our own. Nothing can be more dangerous than a despotism, every one mustla charte
, and all, since it is clear, that a monarch needs the support of an aristocracy, and an aristocracy is nothing without money.—An enlightened, unpaid, disinterested gentry, who possess all the property—”
‘Money!’ echoes the colonel in heat; “it is that money which is the curse of you English. You have it all, and yet you see you are hourly in terror of bankruptcy. Thank God, if the Revolution has done nothing else, it has cut up root and branch all our odious seignories, with their feudal follies; and man now begins to think himself the owner of the soil, and not a plant.”
“Nay, my dear Béthizy, keep your temper; you are not now storming the bridge of Lodi. Reflect one moment; what will become of France when her whole territory shall be subdivided in freeholds not bigger than a pocket-handkerchief?”
“And your island! what will the poor devils of paupers do when Lord—shall own the whole island?”
“I think,” observes the abbate, perceiving that the argument is likely to wax hot, “that it is a question that will admit of much to be said on both sides, whether a people will leave more lasting and brilliant recollections, if their career has been run under a republican or a monarchical form of government. In Italy, we find arguments to maintain both positions; though at present we are somewhat divided between a hierarchy and such minute geographical divisions as shall insure a close inspection into the interest of all who have any right at all to be consulted in these matters. I can neither agree with the prince, nor with the professor, nor with the Count, nor yet with Sir Edward, though I think all of us must be of
“Oh! all, all, all, all.”
“It is quite certain that your Lazzaroni would scarcely know what to do with political power if they had it,” continues the abbate.
“Nor a serf,” says the Prince.
“I can see no use in giving it even to a Count,” mutters the Dane.
“Nor to a Manchester reformer,” puts in Sir Edward.
“It is quite certain the
canaille
do not know how to use it,” adds Jules Béthizy, with a melancholy sigh; and so the question is disposed of.
Now, if my friend Cadwallader were a member of the club (and I hope to live long enough to see the day when he shall become one,) he might give a very different opinion from them all. Let us imagine, for an instant, what would be the nature of his argument. He would probably say, that, “my countrymen have taken care there shall be neither Lazzaroni, nor serf, (he might gag a little at the thought of the blacks,) * It is manifestly unsafe to found any arguments concerning the political institutions of this country on the existence of slavery, since the slaves have no more to do with government than inanimate objects.
Vol. I Bb
“I do not believe it is in the power of man to make a Turk comprehend the nature of English liberty; simply because, when he looks around him, and sees the state of society in which he himself vegetates, he can neither understand the energy of character which requires such latitude for its exertion, nor the state of things which can possibly render it safe. It appears to me, that it is very nearly as difficult to make an Englishman comprehend that it is very possible for a people to prosper under a degree of liberty still greater than that he enjoys. His self-love, his prejudices, and his habits are all opposed to the admissions. Experience and fact go for nothing. He is determined there shall be some drawback to all the seeming prosperity of a state of things which exceeds his own notions of the sources whence prosperity ought to flow; and though he may not be sufficiently conversant with the details to lay his finger on the sore spot, he is quite confident there must be one. He swears it is festering, and that by-and-bye we shall hear something of it worth knowing. I remember once to have conversed with a renowned English statesman on this very subject. He was sufficiently complimentary on the institutions of my country, and on the character of my countrymen, but we were neither of us the dupes of such simple courtesy. I believe he did me the justice to see that I understood him, for he very soon took occassion to remark that he should like the government of the United States better if it were a ‘
Frank Republic.
’ Perceiving that I looked surprised, and possibly understanding the expression of my countenace to savfrankness
in any government, he went on to explain; ‘I mean,’ he continued, ‘that I should like your government better, if there were no pageant of a head, and if Congress would act for itself directly, without the intervention of a President.’
This conversation occurred shortly after the Senate of the United States had rejected a treaty with Great Britain, which the President had made (through the public minister), and which the King of Great Britain had previously ratified. ‘
Hinc illœ lachrymœ.
’ I confined my answer to a simple observation, that the actual power of the President was very little, but that we should unnecessarily impede the execution of the laws, and embarrass our intercourse with foreign nations, by abolishing the office, which added greatly to the convenience of the country, without in the slightest degree invading or endangering the liberties of the people.
Now, what was the amount of the argument which this gifted man agitated in his own mind, on a subject so important to the policy of a great nation? He could understand that a right might exist somewhere to annul the bargain of a minister, for in his proper person he had just before refused to ratify a treaty made by one of his own agents,
* With Mexico.
Again, it is quite common for the American to gather in discourse with Englishmen, either by inuendoes, or direct assertions, that there is little or no religion in his country! Nine times in ten, the formerregime
, he will find that it is in truth bottomed on no other foundation than the circumstance that we have no established church. And yet it is a known fact that the peculiar faith of England, is in America on the comparative increase, and that in England itself, it is on a comparative decrease, one half of the whole population being at this moment, if I am rightly informed, dissenters from the very church they think so necessary to religion, morals, and order. In America, we think the change in the latter country is owing to the establishment itself; and the change in our own, to the fact that men are always willing to acknowledge the merits of any thing which is not too violently obtruded on their notice. We may be wrong, and so may they; but if the fact were only half as well authenticated as is the one that we are competent to maintain our present political institutions, I should consider it a question not worth the trouble of discussion.”
That Cadwallader would use some such manner of reply I know, for the anecdote of his conversation with the English statesman (now unhappily no more) I have actually heard him mention. I confess the justice of many of his remarks, for I am perfectly conscious of having been the subject of a great many of these vague and general conjectures on American policy; but a closer observation of the actual state
B b 2
From this familiar and obvious manner of reasoning (and I think it will be found to contain a fair proportion of the truth) it would seem to result that there is quite as little likelihood the American will lose any of his extreme liberty, as that the Dutchman, the Frenchman, or the Englishman, will lose any great portion of that which he now enjoys. The question is then narrowed to the use the former will make of his power.
The past speaks for itself, and in language sufficiently plain for any man to comprehend, who is not obstinately bent on refusing credit to institutions to which he is unaccustomed. The future is necessarily, in some degree, matter of conjecture; but in order to anticipate it with an approach to accuracy, we will continue our investigation of facts.
You are already master of my opinions on the general character of the inhabitants of New-England. If I add the results of the observations made in the recent tour, you will possess the remarks I have made on more than half of the whole population of the country, and this too without excluding the slaves from the calculation.
The great national characteristics throughout this
The policy of New-York and Ohio differs but little from that of New-England in this particular. Unhappily that of Pennsylvania is less enlightened. In the former State during the current year (1824), when the population is rather under 1,600,000, there are 7,642 common schools; 402,940 scholars have been taught in these schools for an average of nine months. These are in addition to all the
private
schools, which are numerous, especially in the towns; and which include all that push education beyond reading, writing, arithmetic, and a little grammar and geography.
* In 1825, there were 7773 common schools, and 425,530 scholars, exclusive of those who attended 656 schools, from which no returns were made in time to be included.
From these numbers, which are taken from official reports, you gain two important facts; the extent of the common education, and the number of the children compared to that of the adults. During the
While on this subject, it may be well to advert to a few other facts, of which I propose to make some use, when further observation shall entitle me to comment on the present condition and future fortunes of the slaves. In 1790, the whole population of the State of New-York was 340,120. Of this number 25,975 were blacks, chiefly slaves. In 1800 there were 586,050 persons, of whom 30,988 were blacks, chiefly slaves. In 1810, 959,049 persons, and 40,350 blacks, of whom, perhaps, nearly half were free. In 1820 the population was 1,372,812, of whom only 39,367 were blacks; viz., 10,088 slaves, and 29,279 free people of colour. In 1825 the population was 1,616,458, of whom 39,999 were blacks, all free, or, what was the same thing, all to be free on the 4th of July, 1827, and by far the most of them were free at the time the census was actually taken.
It will be well to recollect that the State of New-York, so far from being a place avoided by the blacks, is rather one they seek. The scarcity of domestics, and the large proportion of families who keep servants, induce thousands of free people of colour to resort there for employment. A great many are also hired as the labourers on board of vessels. Still they do not increase, amid the vast increase of the whites. A trifling migration to Hayti may have affected the returns a little, but there is no doubt that the migration into the State exceeds that from it. One must remember how few marriages take place among these people; their moral condition,
* At the census of 1825, there were in the State of New-York 1,513,421 neat cattle; 349,628 horses; 3,496,539 sheep; 1,467,573 hogs; 2,269 grist-mills, chiefly by water; 5,195 saw-mills, almost all by water; 1,222 fulling-mills, 1,584 carding-mills; 76 cotton, and 189 woollen manufactories of cloth for sale. There were 645 deaf and dumb, 1,421 idiots, and 819 lunatics. It should, however, be remembered, that unfortunate subjects of these maladies, are frequently sent from other States to the benevolent institutions of this.
I think it is quite fair to infer, from these statements, that freedom is not favourable to the continuation of the blacks while society exists under the influence of its present prejudices. The general returns of the number of the free blacks in the whole of the United States, certainly show that they are on the increase; but this fact is to be ascribed to the constant manumissions, and not to any natural cause. In Massachusetts, there have been no slaves since the declaration of independence. It has, of course, been a favourite residence of the blacks, some of whom have risen to respectable situations in life. Among them, there have been traders, ship-masters, and even ship-owners; and yet they have scarcely increased in number, during the last thirty years. In 1790, there were 5,463 blacks in that State; and in 1820, there were 6,740. During the same time the whole population has advanced from 378,787 to 523,287. † Census of 1820.
Now it is quite certain that, in a country subject to so many changes as this, and where man is so very active, all statistical calculations are liable to the influences of minute and familiar causes, which are very likely to escape the detection of a stranger. When Cadwallader first directed my attention to the foregoing reports, I was about to jump to the instant conclusion, that the free blacks did not propagate their species at all, and that, as the gross increase of their numbers in the country was owing to manumissions, nothing remained but to give them all their freedom, in order to render the race extinct. But my companion, like most of his countrymen, is a calculator too wary and too ingenious to fall into so gross an error.
There is no doubt that the free blacks, like the aborigines, gradually disappear before the superior moral and physical influence of the whites, but the rate of their decrease is not to be calculated by that in the State of Massachusetts, nor even by that of the native possessors of the soil. A black man, unlike an Indian, can be easily civilized; and perhaps there are no peasants in the world who require a greater indulgence of their personal comforts than the people of colour in the northern and middle States of this * All experience proves, that ages and generations must elapse before the descendants of the African can acquire habits of endurance which shall enable him effectually to resist frost, if, indeed, it can ever be done. Indeed, while the negro is often powerful of frame, and generally supple and active, it may be questioned whether he can endure extreme fatigue of any sort, as well as a white man; at least, as well as the hardy and vigorous whites of this country. A thousand instances might be adduced to prove this position; but two must suffice. A few years since, an American whaler was struck by a whale in the Pacific Ocean, and the vessel instantly bilged. The crew was compelled to traverse half of that vast ocean in their boats, subject to the utmost privation, and sustaining the most horrible sufferings. But few survived to reach the land. The blacks, of whom there were a fair proportion, died, being the first to sink under their abstinence and labour.—A few years since, a small vessel ran into a bay on Long Island, during a severe snow-storm, at a time that Cadwallader was near the spot. She was soon surrounded by a thin ice, and as her crew had no fire, nor boat, they were reduced to the utmost distress. A signal was made to that effect. A young gentleman proceeded to the rescue of the unfortunate mariners, seconded by two servants, one of whom was white, and the other black. The latter was a farm labourer of great strength and activity. The ice was to be broken near a mile, in the face of a cutting wind, and while the thermometer (Fahrenheit) stood several degrees below Zero. The crew were rescued, but the black was near dying, and had to be landed before half the toil was completed, and a white man was taken in his place.
Before closing these remarks I will add, that the whites, with the exception of certain districts in the southern states, attain a greater degree of longevity than the blacks, and that it is known that the slaves have more children than the free people of colour.
It is not improbable that there are some immaterial errors in the reports, from which the number of children in the common schools of New-York have been taken, since the State bestows its bounty in proportion to the wants of the district; but, on the other hand, it must be remembered, that the amounts are gathered by public and qualified officers, and that each school district is obliged to tax itself for just as much money as it receives, in order to raise the sum necessary to defray the current expenses of common education, so that, on the whole, it is probable there is no great exaggeration; nor is a traveller, who has witnessed the immense number of white-headed and chubby little urchins he sees all over the country, at all disposed to suspect it.
We of Europe, when we listen to the wonders of these regions, in the way of increase and prosperity, are a little addicted to suspect the native narrators of the prodigies of a love of the marvellous. I once ventured to ask Cadwallader his opinion on this delicate point. His answer was sufficiently to the point, and you shall have it, without the smallest qualification:—
“That the Europeans,” he said, “will not believe facts, which have a daily existence before our eyes, proves nothing but their ignorance. In my own opinion, and this is but a matter of opinion, there is lessex officio
considered immaculate. Love of country, a stronger passion in America than even in England, or rather a more general one, has never protected an officer in a false colouring of a victory or a defeat, when the truth was within the reach of the multitude. The attempts are comparatively rare, for the hazard is notorious. During the war of the revolution, the public documents of the nation, which were issued in something like the form of bulletins, were found to be so true, that the signature of the Secretary of Congress was universally deemed conclusive as to all interesting facts.
“In no one instance were the people ever intentionally deceived, and it is rare is, deed that they were ever deceived at all. History in our, gives in substance the same accounts of our battles, fortunes,
Vol. I.
C c
“Moral influence is also quite as strong in the United States, as in the most moral countries of the east. Indeed, I know but one cause why deception should be more active here than in Europe, while I can see and do know a multitude why it should not. The frequency of elections certainly gives rise to a greater frequency of those amiable misrepresentations that are so peculiar to all political struggles. But, in point of effect, these election lies, as they are called, defeat themselves; they indeed do even more; the they often defeat the truth, as most people are predisposed to incredulity. And yet, four fifths of our elections pass away like this you have just witnessed, without exciting sufficient interest to raise a lie about them of all.
“Facts, undeniable, manifest, and, to an American, familiar facts, do certainly often assume to the unpractised ears of an European, an air of startling exaggeration. There appears it, mankind a disposition always to believe to much, or to believe too little. The exact and true medium is hit by very few, who, by uniting a sufficiency of experience to a necessary amount of native penetration, are enabled to estimate
Washington
Our
passage from New-York to Philadelphia, though the distance is less than ninety miles, was made, as is so usual here, by land and by water. In consequence of the unequalled facilities offered by their rivers, bays, and sounds, the Americans enjoy,
I think the first thing that strikes you at an American table, is the liberality with which it is supplied. The excessive abundance is a fault. The innkeepers seem to understand that a traveller can eat but a certain quantity, and they appear nearly indifferent as to the quality of the articles in which he may choose to indulge. Thus game, fish, and flesh, are place before him in very liberal quantities, and he is allowed to choose between them. What he leaves is silently removed, pay being expected only for that which is consumed. Of course the prices and the quality of the viands, no less than the style in which they are served, differ very materially in a country of such vast extent. In the older States, particularly in the vicinity of the large towns, the expenses of the inns are greater than in the interior, though, compared with their comfort ami abundance, never equal to that which we pay in most of Europe. Foreign travellers are, however, often deceived on the subject, from ignorance of knowing how to choose. The
We left New-York in a steam-boat for Brunswick, a small city in the State of New-Jersey At this place we found no less than thirteen stages, ready to convey those who proceeded to the river Delaware. The number of the coaches varies according to the amount of travelling, and on some occasions I was told it exceeded twenty.
In these vehicles, the passengers are disposed by a very simple and quiet process, and with an expedition, that marks all the movements of these active people. You are only to imagine a hundred passengers, arriving with their baggage at a point or debarkation, whence, in less than ten minutes of time, they were to proceed in coaches, to fancy the uproar and confusion that would occur in most countries. The steam-boat lines, as they are called, manage the matter differently.
C c 2
Some little time before the boat arrives, the passengers give in their names, and receive in return, tickets, which bear the numbers of the coaches in which they are to proceed. As the masters of the boats have a method of making these arrangements, which is analogous to the common sense customs of the country on all matters which relate to the interior regulations of society. I will explain it.
You will readily suppose that all classes of people are to be found travelling in these public and cheap conveyances; some little address is therefore necessary to dispose of an assemblage which is so motley, anti whose members are of necessity to be brought in such familiar contact. The master of the boat knew Cadwallader, and to him he immediately gave ticket No. 1; not that the stage was better than the rest, but because it was necessary to keep some division of the subject in his own mind, and this was probably the most natural. My companion pointed to me, and I received No. 1, also. There were two or three pretty, genteel looking women, with their male friends, who received the same sort of tickets, until the stage was filled. Then came Nos. 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6, with nearly the same quality of travellers. In one or two instances I heard requests urged, that families, or parties, might be placed together, and several changes were made in order to accommodate the applicants. There were two or three vehicles filled with jolly sons of the ocean, who appeared to relish each other's society better than they would have relished ours: and the carriage in the rear brought on a dark bevy of the descendants of Ham. When we reached the shore, each one sought his number; the baggage, which had been previously marked with chalk, was transferred to its proper vehicle, and the whole line was in swift motion, in less than the prescribed time.
In order to get a view of the country, I had begged
We found the roads very tolerably good, the horses excellent, the coaches, though not exceedingly easy, well enough. When we entered Trenton, the coach was stopped by Cadwallader, and we descended at an inn, which, as it afterwards appeared, had no connexion with the stages. Our example was followed by one or two more, the rest of the travellers proceeding to the regular stage-house. I mention this little circumstance, as it may serve to give an idea of a description of inns in this country, of which even observant travellers in it do not often get any notion, but which, nevertheless, abound in all the northern and eastern States. Under favour of my friend's experience, I have entered fifty such, some not quite as good, and some seven better than the one I am about to describe:—
At Bispham's, Trenton, we were received by the landlord with perfect civility, but without the slightest shade of obsequiousness. The deportment of the innkeeper was manly, courteous, and even kind; but there was that in his air, which sufficiently proved that both parties were expected to manifest the same qualities. We were asked if we all formed one party, or whether the gentlemen who alighted from number one, wished to be by themselves. The reply was, that we wished to be alone. We were shown into a neat well-furnished little parlour, where our supper made its appearance in the course of twenty minutes. The table contained many little delicacies, such as game, oysters, and choice fish, and several things were named to us as at hand, if needed. Cadwalladers.
6
d.
sterling each. I confess I did not think it was enough, and proposed to my companion to make an addition. “Put up your purse,” he said, smiling; “all we ask is, that when you get back, you will merely tell what you have seen. This man has his price, and will take neither more nor less.” You must also remember, that in America, when you pay the regular price for any thing, you commonly have paid all. I have never known a servant ask for a
douceur;
and though people of a certain class generally give a trifle to the man who cleans boots, or to him who does any little extra services, neither waiter, chambermaid, nor any one else, demands it. It is just the same in the steam-boats, stages, hackney-coaches, &c., when you get the regular price, you know all the necessary expense, and I use the word necessary, in reference to custom no less than right.
* A trifle is commonly expected for transferring the baggage from the steam-boats to the coaches, and
vice versa. Sometimes and Europeans, or an experience American servant in the large towns, will look as if he
expected a present.
I have been in a vast number of these inns. So far from putting people three in a bed, they apologize for the necessity of putting friends in the same room when it is necessary; and on the slightest hesitation at such an arrangement being manifested, they do all they can to obviate the necessity.
I do not suppose that it is possible to arrive at any very exact estimate of the taverns in this country. They are certainly more numerous than I remember to have ever seen them before, especially on all the great routes. A vast number are very bad, and it might be difficult for even a native to travel in his own carriage any great distance without occasionally encountering some of the sort; but, always, confining my remarks to the older and more northern States, and making the exceptions which are peculiar to the two countries, I am of opinion that there are quite as many good taverns in America as in England, while there are infinitely more bad ones. The former, certainly, do not occur at every five miles; but in order to institute a fair comparison, it is necessary to remember the vast difference in the sizes of the two countries. In this simple fact exists the secret of the apparent difference in the quality of the taverns. But an American inn, and, indeed, the inn of every other country except England, is almost always deficient in the one great
nameless
convenience already mentioned in this letter. The servants here are not so good as in Europe generally, and much inferior to those in England. I make my comparison with your inns, because they are, as a class, more uniformly good than those of any other country, and because the best of yours are unquestionably among the best of the world. I know no other country indeed in which the inns will compare, on the whole, with those of the older parts of America. The ins of France, in the large towns, cleanliness excepted, are
* If we take cooking into the account, there are inns now, in the northern and western parts of France, that are quite equal to the best English provincial inns. Those who are very luxurious in their beds may even think them better.
The passage down the Delaware, though picturesque, and far from unpleasing, will bear no comparison with that on the Hudson. Still, one may get an idea of the great beauty of all these splendid, views by recalling the fact that numberless European travellers who have made the excursion to Philadelphia before going north, extol the former river to the skies.
A few miles below Trenton, Joseph Bonaparte has sought a retreat from the cares and mortification of the old world. He lives in a sort of retirement which embraces a large circle of friends and dependants. The family of Bonaparte is already getting to be numerous in America, and it is probable that in a few years the name will be found in the rolls of Congress: a century hence it may possibly be seen on the signs of the cities. Besides the ex-king, (who has assumed the title of Compte de Survilliers, the name of a little village which lies adjacent to the splendid château of Morfontaine,) there are a son of Lucien, (married to the oldest daughter of Joseph,) a son of Jerome by his first, or the American wife, and two sons of the hapless Murat. Charles, the son of Lucien, has children born in the country, and who consequently are possessed of the rights of natives. This young man is already favourably known for his devotion to, and for his attainments in science. He is said to be simple in his habits, and to have found favour among the republicans of these regions.
The Compte de Survilliers, I believe, does not mingle much with the society of the country. He * A few years since, the house of the Compte de Survilliers was burnt by accident. A few days after the conflagration, a card appeared in a journal of the vicinity, in which the sufferer, after returning thanks to the inhabitants of the neighbouring village of Bordentown, for their promptitude in coming to his assistance, alluded to the circumstance, that no one of his effects had been purloined in the midst of the confusion in terms of commendation. The writter understood that the thanks were well enough received, for they were usual, but that a momentary offence was given to the inhabitants, by any man presuming to thank them for common honesty! The people of the vicinity have, however, already forgotten their pique, for they speak of their neighbour with great kindness.
I found Philadelphia remarkable for its regularity of construction, its neatness and its quietude. It has much more the air of a better sort of English town, or, in fact, of a quarter of London, than even New-York, though there are points of marked differences, as well as of resemblance, between the City of Brotherly-love and the capital of the mother country. The bricks are not painted, and the eye immediately misses the gay, cheerful look which distinguishes New-York. Herein it resembles a well-built and clean town of England; but its exceeding neatness is almost peculiar to this country, aided as it is by objects of ornament that are not found in the streets of any English city. A vast number of the door-steps are of white marble; many of the caps and sills of the windows, and even parts of the side-walks, are chiselled in the same material. Indeed, the profusion of this stone in the best streets serves to enliven the appearance of the place, though I acknowledge that I have some doubts of the taste which creates so violent a contrast as that between white and red.
In architecture, Philadelphia, beyond all doubt, excels its great commercial neighbour. The private buildings do not materially vary from those I have described, though I think it may be said there is less taste for luxury generally, in this place than in New-York. If any thing, the furniture is more simple, though always neat, and often exceedingly rich. A gentleman of Philadelphia is about as well lodged as that portion of the English nobility and gentry who
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Of public edifices there is a larger and better display than in New-York, churches alone excepted. A good and an improving taste is certainly prevalent in this city on the subject of architecture. I believe it is generally admitted, that the finest modern edifice we know is the Bourse of Paris. You will be surprised, perhaps, when I say, that, next to this exquisite work of art, I rank the Bank of the United States in this city. There are certainly a hundred buildings in Europe of a verv similar style, and of far more laboured ornaments; but I cannot remember one, in which simplicity, exquisite proportion, and material, unite to produce so fine a whole. It is doric, without side colonnades, not particularly large, though of sufficient size for effect, and of white marble. The church of the Madeleine at Paris, for instance, when completed, should be an edifice of a vast deal more of pretension; but, notwitstanding its admirable position, its great size, and its immense colonnades, I do not believe it will ever produce so pleasing an effect as this chaste and severe little temple of Plutus, It is certain that the Madeleine stands in a position to try its powers of pleasing to the utmost; for, flanked by the Garde Meuble, and fronting the facade of the Chambre des Députés, no imperfection is permitted to escape, without quick comparative criticism. I am not sure that the Bank of the United States does not owe some of its charms to the fact that it has no rival near; but even that circumstance is a merit in the architect, since he could have had no other eye than that of the mind to regulate his proportions.
Philadelphia has other clever edifices. There is another banking-house in classic taste, and several more buildings erected for the monied institutions, (attribute to gold, perhaps, to be expected here) are in
But you, who know, by melancholy experience, how little there is actually worth viewing in the oldest countries of the earth, after the first interest of curiosity has been appeased, should not be surprised to learn, that an American city can contain very little to reward the eye, unless that which is seen should be taken in connexion with the moral agents that have assisted to bring it into existence. In the latter respect, one has cause of astonishment at each step taken in this rapidly advancing country, and in no place more than in Philadelphia.
New-York is a great commercial town; but this city is more devoted to manufacturing. It is much cheaper than the former place and in many particulars admirably adapted to maintain its present pursuits There is no want of capital; and it is highly-probable that the day is not distant when it shall become a modified, or improved, Manchester or Birmingham. Its present population is about 140,000.
* The writer has more than once said, that Philadelphia city contains, at the present day, about 150,000, and New-York near 200,000, exclusive of the village of Brooklyn, a suburb on the Long Island side of the strait or arm of the sea, which must have of itself quite 12,000.
I will not say we found in Philadelphia a better bred, or a more enlightened society, than we found in New-York, for this would not be strictly true; but we found it less interrupted by the intrusions of that portion of the world which is purely commercial. The constant and vast accessions to the population of the latter city keep society in a constant state of fermentation, as I have already mentioned: and it is not always easy to tell into which of its currents or bubblings one has fallen. It is more easy to keep pace
Instead of following the river in our route to Baltimore, we went by a road of the interior. The first day's journey was through one of the most highly cultivated and richest agricultural districts of this, or of any other, quarter of the world. The appearance of the country, with the exceptions already named, was essentially English, though I have seen no part of England where such farm-houses and barns are to be seen as we met with here. The villages are few, and but small, though there are two or three market-towns of some size on the route. The natural scenery was rather like that of Normandy than that of England, though the artificial parts were much in the English taste, always excepting hedges.
The Susquehannah was crossed by a noble wooden bridge, which was said to ba a mile long. This was the twentieth of these immense construction in wood, that I have seen since my landing nor are they the smallest subjects of my surprize. The great enterprise and exceeding ingenuity of the people are here displayed to great advantage. It is only necessary to discover the want of a bridge, or a canal, to insure an effort, and commonly a successful one, to bring it into existence. A bridge, a quarter, a half, or even a whole mile, in length, as is the case with that of Columbia (across the Susquehannah), is no extraordinary undertaking for the inhabitants of a country which, forty years before, and often less, was an entire wilderness. I scarcely know how to give you a correct idea of one of these avenues of timber. As they are commonly thrown across some vast river, or perhaps a lake, on whose banks the native forest is to be found, the material is cheap, and easy to be
The state of Pennsylvania possesses a population, less identified with the great national character, than any other member of this confederation. It is computed that about one-third of all its inhabitants are the descendants of German emigrants. They are remarkable tenacious of their own customs and opinions, and even of their language, though the whole are gradually giving way before the superior influence of the English character. I conversed with several of the yeomen of this description of inhabitants. They spoke English with an accent as if it were a language acquired after infancy, and it was easy to trace a difference in the activity of their thoughts, as compared with those of most of their countrymen. I found them, however, possessed of the same notions of political liberty, which have been so long established in this country, as to have become essential ingredients in the characters of all its inhabitants. I met with others, whose descent could only be traced in their names; their manners, language, and opinions, having already undergone the final change.
The existence of so large a body of people, possessing a language and prejudices of their own, and living so near to each other, as to render it easy to
D d 2
* The writer is told that an immense emìgration to the United States has occurred since he left it. One statement says that 22,000 Irish alone, arrived at the city of New-York during the last year. The citizens complain of their riotous and disorderly conduct, and it is thought some severe remedy will be adopted to cure an evil that is getting to be serious.
I do not think one meets as many foreigners established in this country as the circumstances might give reason to believe. There are particular places where they assembly, and where they are rather striking by their numbers, but, in the interior, I have frequently
* By the last census of the State of New-York, there were 40,430
aliens, in a population of 1,616,458. But this enumeration is liable to explanation. A native of Europe who has become a citizen is not an alien, while a native of United States who is not a citizen, is. The latter class, though not very important, is more numerous than one would suppose. There were many natives who took sides with the crown in the war of 1776, and who still retain their characters of British subjects, being pensioners, &c. &c. although they prefer to reside, and even to leave their descendants in the place of their birth. Such persons are aliens of course, in the eyes of the law. There are others who have come to the country with an intention to reside, and to establish their children, who are averse to throw aside their native allegiance. These continue aliens. There are others, again, who intend to become citizen, but who have not yet completed term of probation. In addition to these explanations, the city of New-York receives more emigrants, perhaps, than all the rest of the United States together, and it is the chosen residence of foreign merchants established in the country. It may be well to add, that there were 5,610 paupers included in this census of the State of New-York, or about one pauper to every 288 of the inhabitants. Of this number, 1,742 were in the city of New-York alone. A vast number of paupers from Europe are dishonestly thrown upon the shores of this country.
Before we quitted the State of Pennsylvania, there was a sensible change for the worse, in the appearance of the country, and we entered Maryland at a point but little adapted to give us the most favourable impressions of the effects of a slave population. The aspect of things, however, changed materially for the better as we approached Baltimore, whose environs, seen as I saw them in a mild day late in the autumn, when a second spring so often seems about to open on the vegetation of this climate, were as pleasing as those of any town I remember.
Baltimore is a neat, well-built city, of near 70,000 inhabitants. It contains many excellent private houses, and some public edifices, in better taste than common; but, like Philadelphia, it wants the gay, animated look which renders New -York so very remarkable.
* An idea may be formed of the great amount of traveling in the United States, by the size of the inns. One was building in Baltimore before the writer left America, which promised to exceed in size in any he remembers. The City Hotel, in New-York, is a vast edifice; and, in a great number of the western villages, the writer saw taverns that were as large as many of the Paris hotels. In a country where domestics are never abundant, and after often bad, this disproportion between the number of the guests and the attendants is a striking fault.
I saw in this city, for the first time since my arrival, a monument erected to Washington. It is a noble column, in stone, and is admirably placed on elevated ground, in what s now a suburb, but which I believe it is intended shall one day become a public square. The want of these squares is a great defect in all the cities I have seen, though it is one which will soon be repaired. The plans of most of them embrace more or less areas of the sort, and some of them are already beginning to be enjoyed. There is also another monument, in very good taste, to perpetuate the memory of those citizens who fell in a skirmish with the British, during the last war, in defence of this city. The whole number was not great, (some thirty or forty militia, I believe,) but it was thought their quality gave them a particular claim on the gratitude of their townsmen.
You may remember that General Ross, after his successful attack on Washington, made a movement threatening Baltimore. Your countrymen possessed an incalculable advantage in the command of the sea, by means of which they not only directed their attacks against the most defenceless points, but they were always enabled to keep their adversaries in an
But Baltimore was a far more important, place than Washington, and time had an army of citizens. The whole affair terminated in a hot skirmish between an advanced party of some two or three thousand Americans, and a portion of the British army. The former retreated, as had been expected, but the English commander lost his life in the rencontre. His successor wisely abandoned an attempt that must have terminated in the annihilation of his force, which was neither strong enough to carry the defences of the place, nor to protect itself against an attack when suffering under reverses, and from an enemy who would soon have been apprized of its weakness. A bombardment of a fort which was defended by regular troops, proved also totally useless.
* It is worthy of remark, and deserving of explanation, that no attack, of any importance, against an American fort by ships, has ever been successful, while a great number have been signally defeated. The reader of American history is familiar with the affairs of Fort Moultrie, Fort Mifflin, Fort Boyer, &c. &c.; but where is he to find the reverse of the picture? The writer has heard more than one professional man say, it is in, just as impossible for ships to reduce forts (under tolerably equal circumstances) as it is for forts to stop the passage of ships when favoured by wind and tide. This theory, if true, is consoling to humanity, since one should always wish success to the assailed, especially when they defend a town against the assaults of hirelings. The exceptions of Algiers and Navarino prove nothing, since the defenders were semi-barbarous; and at Copenhagen, the victory was over a flotilla rather than over the batteries. The destruction of the little work on the Potomac, when the British ascended that river, was clearly an evacuation and not a defeat, and was decided on from an exaggerated notion of the power of the troops in its roar, and not all in consequence of the marine attack. It was abandoned at the first shot
We have been pleased with our residence at Baltimore. It contains a great many polished and enlightened men; and perhaps, there is no part of this Union where society is more elegant, or the women handsomer. The latter circumstance soothed my feelings during the delay of a fortnight.—Adieu.
NOTE A.—
Page 6.
“
I owe
you an explanation,” my friend continued, after the usual language of civility, “for the little interest that I have manifested in your persevering attempts to obtain such English works as may form a preparation for your intended travels in America. I will make no further secret of the cause, and when you hear my sentiments on this matter, I think you will learn those which are common to a very great majority of my countrymen.
“At the period when I grew into manhood, that bitterness of feeling which had been created in the United States towards Great Britain, by the struggle of the revolution, had greatly subsided, in a return of the kindness which was natural to affinity of blood, and to a community of language, usages, and opinions. Our object in the wax had been obtained. When we reverted to its events, it was rather with exultation than hostility. Scenes of personal suffering, and perhaps of personal wrongs, were forgotten in the general prosperity. It is not necessary to ascribe any peculiar qualities of magnanimity, or of Christian charity, to the American people, in order to maintain that fewer instances of a generous and manly forgetfulness can be furnished in the history of nations, than what they generally manifested towards their former rulers. The past presented recollections on which they were not ashamed to dwell, while the future was replete with the most animating hopes. In such an enviable position, a community, like an individual, must have been odiously constituted to find pleasure in the contemplation of any but the brighter parts of human character. We gave the English credit for the possession of all those virtues, which, in the weakness of natural vanity, we are fond of ascribing to ourselves. There were few excellencies on which we grounded our own national pride, that we were disposed to deny them. It would have been difficult to ascribe different results to causes whose influence was thought to be felt by the two nations in common. They were brave, for they were free, they were virtuous, for they were religious; and they were religious, because we worshipped before the same altars. In
“To me the gloomy period of 1792 is almost a matter of history. A mild reflecting people, who, in their own case, had known so well how to temper resistance to oppression, could not long sympathize in the movements of men who
“Although the struggles of domestic politics had, in some measure, created a sort of opposition to English supremacy, it was altogether too feeble to shake the deep-rooted and confiding faith of the nation. There was so much that was true, blended with a great deal that was ideal in our admiration of English character, and, more than all, there was so much which, admirable or not, resembled ourselves, that it was not easy to depreciate its merits. Detractors were heard, it is true; but they either declaimed with vulgar coarseness, or uttered their opinions so feebly, as to leave reasonable doubts of their own sincerity. This extraordinary mental bondage continued, with no very important interruption, during the first ten years of the present century. The amicable feelings of the nation had, indeed, suffered some violent shocks by the operation of the foreign policy of Great Britain, the effects of which were as unceasingly proclaimed by one political party of our country, as were those of the decrees of Napoleon by the other. But the hostility they created was directed rather to the English ministry than to the nation. It is no small evidence of the extent of our prejudice, that, while the maritime condemnations of the English, though conducted with all the pomp of gown and wig, were mainly imputed to the cupidity of individuals, those of Napoleon, which were effected by a nod of his head and the agency of a few
gens d'armes
, were, with as little hesitation, ascribed to the established perfidy of the French character! Had not England herself disturbed this mental ascendancy, I do not see any plausible reason why it might not have continued to the present hour. The jealousy of a sensitive rivalry, however began to manifest itself prematurely; and as an unreasonable desire of exercising, unduly, her political dominion over the colonies precipitated a separation of the two countries, so did her extreme sensitiveness on the subject of profit hasten a mental emancipation that might easily have been deferred, until at least the numbers and importance of the American people had borne them beyond the possibility of
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“Mr. Hodgson says, he was assured by an intelligent American, that had a man, like Wilberforce, travelled among us, and given to the world a fair and honest account of the state of society he saw, the war of 1812 would have been averted. There can be but little doubt that the periodical writers of England dipt their pens too deep in gall. They overacted their parts, and the consequence must fall where it may. I can only say, as a citizen of the United States, who not only loves, but, strange as you may think it, who glories in his country, that if such were the power of that excellent friend of humanity, I rejoice he did not exert it. Though no admirer of the wisdom in which that war was conceived, nor of the skill with which it was conducted, I should be blind to palpable truths, did I not see that it has left my country in the occupancy of a station more worthy of her real power and true character, than the equivocal condition from which she emerged.
“With my opinions, then, of the character of most of the works which form your travelling library, you cannot be surprised that I had so little desire to read them The contents of most of them, however, are already known to me. It would be vain to deny that they contain many disagreeable truths, for it would be arrogating to ourselves a perfection
Fe
“I have said that feeling, no less than calculation, formed one of the causes of the calumny England has undeniably heaped upon America. The operation of this dislike is as various and characteristic, as were the pursuits and humours of its subjects. It was an offence against the geographical sovereignty, which marks England for the seat of empire, to the prejudice of Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, to presume to renounce her dominion at all. It was and is, a constant offence to aristocracy every where, to exhibit an instance of a prosperous and happy democracy. It was a bitter offence against the hierarchical establishment, to demonstrate that religion and order, and morals, could not exist without its aid: and it was an offence to the pride of that numerous class, who exulted in being the bravest, because the freest people of the earth, to argue at the bayonet's point, that there was another quite as brave, who was determined to be a little more free. To the American, the different expedients whichlèves
of her own disciplined system, and our religion scoffed at, though, I think, a reference to the use of figures would demonstrate that while (since the separation) their peculiar faith has been on a comparative, decrease among themselves, in consequence of the opposition created by the establishment, it has, with us, been on a comparative increase. because men seldom fail to confess the merits of that which is not too violently obtruded on their notice.
“But, a more general and far safer method of disposing of the question of our unworthiness, is by keeping America entirely out of view. To this hour and with all the facts known to the world, one reads every day, in works and journals of talent and reputation, that England is the freest among the nations 1 I You may see her claims to philanthropy supported by the fact, that she was the first to destroy the traffic in human flesh; and her distinguished statesmen have not hesitated to affirm in the face of Europe, that to her is the southern moiety of our hemisphere indebted, for the original acknowledgment of its national existence! It is easy to predict that this is a manner of disposing of things, which may be practised with more facility in the year 1825, than in the year 1850.
“As respects the work of Mr. Hodgson, I have read it, with both pain and pleasure. There is satisfaction at all times, in dwelling on the opinions, though they may prove erroneous, of a discreet and honest man. As he evidently seeks the truth, with a desire of proclaiming it, his very errors are entitled to be treated with respect. Nothing, for instance, however, is more untrue, than to say that service in the revolution forms the chief, or even a very material claim to distinction, in our ordinary intercourse. Society, in America, is constituted precisely as in every other Christian country, breeding, education, family alliances, and wealth, exerting most of their customary influences. It is more true, certainly, as to political distinction, though cases abound of
“But there are deep sources of pain in finding, by the confession. of this very writer, how much more inveterate have been the prejudices of his nation, than even one as familiar with the subject as a traveller could have believed. To nine millions of the population of America, it will appear incredible, that England has doubted, nay, still doubts whether religion or religious instruction exists among them! I write under the observation of four visits to England, and an extensive acquaintance with the habits of my own country, when I affirm, that religion, to say the least, is as much inculcated. and its prescriptions as rigidly observed, in all the northern and middle, and some of the Southern States of America, asin the most favoured quarters of England. It is lamentable that an error so injurious in its consequences, so false and so uncharitable in its nature, should have an existence among men who evidently wish to believe the best. Still, while as a man, I lament this miserable error, as an American, I do not fear the consequences. Wilful ignorance is sure to entail its punishment. It has been the misfortune of England to remain ignorance of America, and of American character, from the day when the pilgrims first touched the rock of Plymouth to the present hour. She banished our ancestors from her bosom, because they would not submit to an oppression against which she herself has since revolted. She cumbered our infant efforts with her vicious legislation, and drove us to a premature majority. It remains to be seen whether she will have us, in our strength, as a friend or an enemy. The time for her election is getting short, and more may hang on the issue than millions, who exult in their present power, are willing to believe. The steady, deluded and confiding friend we once were, it is too late to expect. But a nation which feels no pressure, and which is conscious of no unworthiness us neither vindictive nor obdurate. We may be disposed to
“I have treated this matter gravely; for to me it always seems a subject fraught with the gravest consequences. The day is not far distant when the conflicting interests of the two nations shall receive support from equal power. Whether the struggle is to be maintained by the ordinary rivalry of enterprise and Industry, or by the fiercer conflict of arms, depends greatly on the temper of America. To us the question is purely one of time. The result may be retarded; but he is deplorably ignorant of our character, of our resources, and of our high intentions, who believes it can ever be averted. That Almighty Being who holds the destinies of nations in his hands, much change the ordinary direction of his own great laws, or the American population will stand at the
“At present, the feeling in America, in respect to England, is rather that of indifference, than of dislike. We certainly do not worship her government; if we had, we should probably have adopted it; but we are far from being so unreasonable as to require that she should like our own. I know no people that trouble themselves less about the political concerns of other nations than my countrymen. It may be vanity, but they think they have little to learn, in this particular, except of themselves. There is, notwithstanding, one great and saving quality, which, if we are wrong, should plead something in extenuation of our self-delusion; we are neither ashamed nor afraid to change.
“When an Englishman tells us of our common descent, of the ideal homage we should both pay to the land and institutions of our ancestors, he is heard with cold and incredulous ears; we are no worshippers of stocks and stones. A
“As to the generation that must pass away before our strength shall entirely equal that of our great relative, there is little cause for apprehension. England has already done and said her worst. We dread her power as a veteran dreads the whizzing of bullets; he knows the deadly messengers may do him harm, but the sound is far too familiar to excite alarm. Let those who believe England more powerful now than she was fifty years since, ask themselves whether she can repeat her efforts?—let those who wish to think of America in 1824, as they did in 1776, approach like yourself, and make their own observations.
“I should describe the difference between the treatment which the American receives in England, and that which the Englishman receives in America, as being very marked. Notwithstanding all that has passed, we admit the Englishman freely and cordially into our houses, and I think we treat him, even now, rather as a distant relative than as an alien. There is so much natural interest in the feeling which induces us to listen curiously to accounts of the country of our fathers, that it may still require time to lose it altogether. Almost every English traveller in America (who has published) admits the cordiality and kindness of his reception. Though this acknowledgment is commonly made with some such flourish as—‘we found the name of Englishman a general passport,’ it is not the less an acknowledgment of the fact. What is the other side of the picture? Remember that I do not speak of exceptions, but of rules; not of men whom good fortune, or merit, or caprice, or fashion, or curiosity, or any other cause, has made the objects of attention; nor of those whose goodness of heart, and laudable desire to study character as it is exhibited in nations as well as in individuals, excite to kindness; but of those of my countrymen who travel as a body, and of those Englishmen who ordinarily receive them as guests in their own island.
“In the first place, an American has evidently to overcome a dislike to be received at all. This circumstance is betrayed to us in a thousand ways. The first and most common is an evident desire to avoid us. It is betrayed to us by foreigners
“The reception of an American in England is not without amusement. I shall say nothing of the honest, blustering hospitality of that class in whom prejudice cannot always repress kindness, (especially if profit be in view;) but my remarks are now made on a class who have no direct gain before their eyes. These good folk are prodigious patronizers. Nothing makes them so happy as to get an American, and to show him that they are not above treating him as an equal; and in order that the poor foreigner should have no excuse for denying the condescension, they neglect no opportunity of exhibiting it. These people are every moment giving you solemn assurances that they are above the vulgar prejudices of the rest of the world, and perhaps you are gravely told that the party despises the theory which says physical nature is not so perfect in America as in Europe, by an individual who is gravely looking up in your face at an angle of forty-five degrees. One of the best-bred, natural, and easy women that I met in London was a countrywoman of my own. A very cosmopolite took occasion to compliment me on the subject; but, probably fearing he had said too much, he concluded by telling me that ‘she had been
caught
young!’ On another occasion I was assured, in the presence of twenty people, that a countryman of my own ‘could not have been a finer gentleman than he was had he been educated in London or Paris!’ An American lady was dancing in the midst of fifty Englishwomen, and her performance was so creditable, that I was led to believe by-stander, that he saw no difference in her grace and that of the belles of his own island! I should be ungrateful indeed, not to acknowledge the polished liberality of such concessions, which, I candidly assure you, exceeds any thing in the same way I ever heard in my own country. But these are cases to be laughed at: I am sorry to say that others occur, in which indignation destroys the spirit of merriment.
“Now, all this is exceedingly absurd and very pitiful. Heaven knows that every rational American is willing enough to admit what time, and money, and learning have done for Europe; nor do I think, unless provoked by superciliousness, that we are too apt to remind her possessors of what they have not done. But it is lamentable that the truly high breeding and excellent sense of those who do possess these qualities in an eminent degree, in England, cannot look down
Vol. I
“It would be as disgusting as it is unprofitable, to descend into the paltry details of the manner in which prejudices and contempt are fostered in England against America. Some itinerant hears a gross expression from the lips of a vulgar man in New-York, or a horrid oath in the mouth of some blasphemous boatman on the Mississippi, and they are instantly transferred to the pages of works like the Quarterly and half a dozen others similar to it, as specimens of American manners! Do those who preside over the publications in question, believe that the art of objurgation is unknownPretty considerable
,’ is always dignified with italics and the President of the United States is lucky if it be not interpolated into his annual message; but it may appear, as it does appear, in page 64, lines 6 and 7, of the famous Reflections on the French Revolution, by the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, in Roman insignificance!
“It behoves the wise, and the principled, and the good of the two nations, to put a stop to feelings which can so easily give rise to all that is disagreeable. But truckling is not wisdom in us, nor is condescension politeness in them. We must meet at all times, and in all places, as equals: not in concessions, that are wrung by policy, or perhaps by a still less worthy motive but as mortals, who have but one nature and one God. Until this shall be done, and not till then, it is vain to expect the least revival of the feeling that might arise from a common parentage and common principles. I have reason to think that I do not stand alone, in this opinion, by millions. The time is near, I had almost written frightfully near, when two nations, who thoroughly understand each other's vituperations, shall support a delicate rivalry by equal power. That crisis is to be passed ere the danger of the malady shall abate. For one, I can say, in all sincerity, that I hope it may be done in peace but I should be blind to the effect of natural causes, did I not see that it is a period attended with alarm. It is a thousand pities that the goodness of heart, and the secret sympathies which bind the lovers of humanity together, should be smothered by the grosser and more active passions of the world; but nature and self-preservation point to only one course when the appeal is seriously made to the patriot. It is by this unfortunate supremacy of the coarser passions of life, that the best men eventually get enthralled in the mental tyranny of prejudice and hostility.
“You will perceive by what is here written, that words and empty profession pass but for little in my poor estimate of liberality. If I know myself, an Englishman is regarded as any other man. When I find him, as I am happy to say I have found hundreds, benevolent, kind of heart, and liberally enlightened, he even draws nearer to my sympathies than any other foreigners; but the instant any of the qualities mentioned above, are discovered, distrust, coldness, and not unfrequently, unconquerable disgust, succeed. There is no
“But I deny that the prejudice of England against America Is limited to the ignorant, though I am willing to admit, and admit it I do with unaffected pleasure, that there are many and manly exceptions. Still, a, deep, settled, ignorant, and, I think, an increasing hostility, to the people, the institutions, and I fear, to the hopes of the United States, exists in the minds of a vast majority of the middling classes. I use the term middling in an intellectual, no less than in its ordinary, acceptation. It is not a month since a friend of mine accidentally met a clergyman's daughter, of good manners, of a naturally kind heart, and of great general good sense, who manifested this temper in an extraordinary degree. Chance introduced the subject of America, and it is scarcely possible to describe the quality of her abuse, which knew no other bounds than what propriety of sex, and some little respect for condition, would impose. On inquiry, it appeared that this lady (for she was not at all unworthy of the appellation) had never known an American in her life! She had listened too eagerly to misrepresentation and caricature; and, perhaps, her very intelligence added to her spleen, by giving the alarm to her patriotism. But the progress of a great nation is not to be stopped by angry words.
“You may be inclined to ask if the American is not often guilty of the same weakness? No doubt he is—though always with this marked difference: he disputes, and often do nies the claims of England, in this or that particular; he is disgusted with certain usages, and does not scruple to say so; he laughs at the self-delusion of her poets and dramatists; hut he does not deny her general right to be considered among the greatest nations of the earth. While he sees and acknowledges, often felt the equality of her courage, and morals, and enterprise, he confesses no superiority, because, in simple truth, it has no existence. I do not ever remember to have heard one of my countrymen, however ignorant or
“I shall close this long, and, I fear, tiresome note, by writing still more frankly. I have heard a great deal of professions of amity and kindness towards America, during my recent visit to England. I feel that no man has a right to distrust declarations that come from fearless and honest natures. For my own part, I give credit to the sincerity of the individuals who have made them. But when these declarations come, as they so often do come, openly and in print, accompanied by sneers, and misrepresentations, and caricatures, it would exceed the ordinary bounds of human vanity to yield them faith. In order that no misconception may exist on this head, I beg leave to direct your attention to the Quarterly Review, a publication which, erroneously or not, is said to enjoy a particular degree of the favour of those who control the policy of England. Will any honest or candid man say, that the spirit and language of this journal are conciliatory? If the English nation wish to cherish an amicable temper with America, this is not the way to effect their object. One is often at a loss to arrive, at the spirit which dictates these mongrel essays. Are their writers so ignorant of human nature, as not to know, that while one taunt will be remembered, a thousand qualifying commendations will be forgotten? If they are written for the English nation, do they not prove the existence of the temper I have described? and if they are written for the American, is it believed that we shall take our political creed from known rivals? If peace between England and America be an object—and God knows, I consider it an object of deep and momentous concern—it is not to be preserved by means like these. There is one question alone, which must always endanger the harmony of the two nations. I mean the question of impressment. So long as this delicate and important point remains at
issue, England cannot war with any other power without creating a fearful risk of drawing America into the controversy. There exists no longer in the United States, a blind and infatuated party to uphold a foreign people in the support of a doctrine that is as untenable by common sense, as it is insulting to the sovereignty of an independent nation, and this is a question, therefore, that can only be disposed of by great conciliation and mutual forbearance. But, admitting that the administration of the
F f 2
“Turning from this, picture of irritating and jealous contention, one scarcely knows, where to seek the antidote to the poison which is thus insidiously infused into the two nations. It can only be found in the high principles and good sense of the religiously disposed, and of the enlightened. The former class may endure and deprecate, for their office is meek and holy charity; but it may be well questioned, if the knowledge of man and worldly wisdom do not tell the intelligent American, that his nation has already forborne too long. When are we to expect the termination of these constant appeals to our forbearance, or when are we to look with confidence to the hour in which misrepresentation and calumny shall cease? I refer you to the VII. Number of the Quarterly Thelogical Review and Ecclesiastical Record, a work devoted to the promulgation of
Christian
doctrines, as a striking evidence of the temper which pervades so much of England on the subject of America. It is vain to say, that the sermon it affects to review is any justification of the language it contains There is nothing in that sermon but what a minister of God had a perfect right to tell his people. But it seems
“But I have no wish to pursue the ungrateful subject further. If we do not recriminate and assail, it is not for want of means, but for want of inclination. All of our travellers in England have as yet been Hodgsons (at least in temper;) and it is worthy of remark, that, while so many English have been journeying in America, to ridicule, to caricature, and to misrepresent, not a single American of the thousands who daily visit and have visited England, has, to my knowledge, ever undertaken the office of retaliation. I shall not offend your good sense, by pretending you do not know how easy the task would become, to an American who had the disposition and the talents for its—I had almost written
duty.
“I have treated this matter more gravely than the security and indifference of most Americans would induce them to believe necessary, But to me there seems a danger in the subject that my countrymen, who now openly laugh at these ‘I paper bullets,’ do not always see. It is plain to me, that immense numbers in England have a secret presentiment that there is great danger of a war between the two countries. I take the often repeated disclaimers of a wish for hostilities to be a bad omen. No man in America, thinks at all on the subject. I do affirm that I have heard more said about war in the last four weeks in England, than in the last four years that I passed at home. I think one can trace easily the cause of this difference of feeling. We are passive, for we have neither distrust nor jealousy. We know we are moving steadily to our object, and we think or care little about what other people wish or contemplate. I do not believe that two grave and thinking nations will ever enter into hostilities on account of pasquinades; but pasquinades can produce a state of feeling that may render it difficult to overcome serious obstacles to peace. That these obstacles have
“Having very probably wearied yon, my dear—, with a subject in which you may not feel as interested as myself, you have a right to some advice concerning those preliminary investigations on which you are so meritoriously inclined. I scarcely know a book to which I can refer you. Most of the travels are next to worthless. Even statistical works are liable to so much explanation, in a country where changes are so rapid, that they are apt to mislead. For this simple reason, no book, for a long time to come, can be deemed a standard work. It is found difficult, with the utmost industry, for even the geographies to maintain their places in the schools. What is true to-day, may, where so much activity prevails, become erroneous to-morrow. It is a common saying, that an American who remains five years abroad, gets behind his country. There are many and lamentable proofs of its justice. It would have been just as safe for the Austrians to believe Napoleon at Turin this week, because he was at Milan the last, as it would be exact to calculate that America is the same the present as she was found the preceding year. A population that, in our infancy, amounted to three millions, has already swelled to twelve, and thousands are now in being who will live to see it fifty! All other changes have kept equal pace with the unprecedented and nearly incredible growth of our numbers.
“You will find, in the British Annual Register, a sufficiently correct history of the war of the revolution. It is often coloured in matters that may touch the national pride; but is written with far too much talent to be vulgarly illiberal. Many of the private memoirs of that period, English, French, and American, have merit as well as interest for those who are disposed to seek it on so trite a subject: but Marshall, with all his faults of arrangement, for candour, manliness, and judicious weighing of testimony, is a model for all histories. His opportunities, too, for obtaining the truth have probably never been equalled by any other historian. For books of a later date, I scarcely know where to refer you. The little episode of Anquetil the American war, is wonderfully erroneous. He confounds names, dates, and events, in a manner that is inexplinable. He is not alone in saying that the
mistress of Washington had betrayed his secrets!
Nothing can be more absurd than to suppose
any woman
had the power of betraying the secrets of one so wise, unless it be to suppose that
woman
was his
mistress.
A more profound ignorance of the man, or of the people by whom he was intrusted,
NOTE B.—
Page 16.
“
What
effect did the general hostilities of Europe, from 1792 to 1814, produce on the maritime spirit or on the navigation of your country; and what was the counteracting influence or the retaliating measures of the belligerents, of your own restrictive laws, and of the war of 1812?”
“As to maritime spirit, I should answer, none. The American has ever shown an inclination to the sea, and perhaps there is no branch of his industry and profit that he would abandon with greater reluctance. You will find the proofs of this disposition in history, in his professional skill, in the restless enterprise of the national character, and in the sagacity of the people, which is not likely to admit of their being cajoled into an impression that they do not comprehend their own interests. The long neutrality of the Americans certainly added to the wealth of the nation, and enabled its merchants to increase their tonnage a comparatibly enormous amount. In 1810, when the population of the country but a little exceeded 7,000,000, there were more than 1,400,000 tons of shipping under the American flag. After allowing for errors and frauds, both of which existed at that period to some extent, this was making one ton to every five souls. To equal this ratio, Great Britain should possess a tonnage of near five millions, and France one six and that without computing the inhabitants of their dependencies. But, great as was the effect of this neutral character on America, it was by no means equal to that which would have been produced by her natural advantages to profit by such aenjoyment
of our neutral character! The restrictive laws, a measure of our own forbearing, policy, followed these heavy losses, and, for near two years, the foreign trade of the country was entirely abandoned. To these again succeeded a war of near three years, with a nation which commanded the sea, which had little else to do on that element but to annoy, our trade, and which, for much of the time, had no other enemy. To all these checks, which, in 1814, had reduced the navigation of the country to about one-twentieth of what it had been seven years before, succeeded the general peace, a period when each community returned to the enjoyment of its own peculiar advantages If we put the short and nominal interruption to the peace, that was occasioned by the return of Napoleon, as a set-off to the additional year that the American war continued, we can suppose all the nations to have re-entered the lists of commercial enterprise together. The result is known to you. Though America has not regained her former ratio of tonnage, (a thing not to be expected during a general peace,) she has become again, compared with her population, the most maritime nation or the earth. When one coolly reflects on the shocks she sustained in her wealth, the long continuance of the restrictions she endured, and her infancy, the impression must be irresistible that there exists, either in the spirit of her people, or in the resources of America or in both, an operating cause to produce these effects, which is to be found nowhere else. Does any man believe that there is a single nation in Europe that could have recovered so soon from similar shocks? The restoration or the convalescent child to its pristine powers, is not more strongly contrasted to the laboured and feeble efforts of age, than is the elasticity with which America recovers from pressure to be compared to the cumbered efforts of the older and more artificial communities of Europe.”
“What effect is the continuance of peace likely to produce on the navigation of your country?”
“Peace will of cource change, indeed it has already, indirection
of our commerce. We are now placed, as regards mere privilege, on a level with other nations. That we are more than equal to maintain the competition, wherever trade is conducted on principles of reciprocity, is manifest by the fact that we conduct so large a proportion of the intercourse between ourselves and the rest of the world. The main result is already to be seen in existing facts; though it is undeniably in the power of other countries to throw embarrassments in our way, just as it is in our power to adopt measures of retaliation. It is useless to carry this investigation into details, since the minute policy of nations to-day may differ so much from that of to-morrow. It appears to me that the question of the increase of our navigation is altogether one of degree. That it must continue to increase is just as capable of demonstration as the facts that it has increased, and does increase, are notorious. Let us look, for instance, at a branch of the trade that is almost without exception within our own control. On examination it will be seen, that while the foreign commerce of the United States has vacillated with the changes of external causes, the trade coastwise has been regularly, and, I might add, naturally, on the increase. In America, the vessels which are employed in the intercourse between one State and another, or, in fact, between one port and another, are enumerated in a different class from those which sail for ports without the country. The former are known as registered, and the latter as licensed vessels. The difference in name is owing to the difference in the document which gives to each its respective character. In all other respects the employments are the same. When the destination of the vessel is changed, it becomes necessary to change the evidence of character. Now, in 1790, the licensed tonnage of the country amounted to 103,775 tons. It
exceeds, at the present hour, this amount by seven-fold. The increase has been remarkably regular, and is always in a ratio rather exceeding that of the population of the country.
* The reports of 1826, raise the tonnage of the United States to 1,534,000 tons, of which more than 800,000 are in the coasting trade and fisheries.
“The most rational way of anticipating the future state of our commerce by the past, is to consider the ratio of the increasing wants of the country in connexion with the effects which repletion, if I may so term it, never fails to produce on the moral no less than on the physical system. So long as the animal is in a state of growth, ample sustenance tends to and that growth, by keeping the frame equal to its
“What effect will manufactures be likely to produce on the maritime character of your people? How far will the cheapness of land have a tendency to divert your population from the ocean, and what will be the probable influence of the inland States in opposing the commercial, or navigating interests of the maritime?”
“These are questions often asked, but the two first of them, at least, might be answered by the results of all experience. Men navigate ships for precisely the same object that they manufacture goods. They do both to enrich them. selves, or to prevent want. It is a good reason why the islander should go to sea, that he can do nothinq better; but it is just as good a one, that the inhabitant of a continent should do the same thing, because he can do nothing else half so profitable. Men can be led as well as driven. Now, the American long ago made the discovery that, notwithstanding the high price of labour in his country, as he can sail a ship cheaper than others, he is likely to reap most emolument in turning his attention to the sea. In consequence of this discovery, the nation has become maritime; and it will undeniably continue maritime so long as there is profit to be derived from navigation. Land was cheaper thirty years ago than to-day, and yet our citizens left it to earn their money on the water. The ship-master who gains three or four hundred dollars a year on his farm, rents it, and goes to sea to earn a thousand, and the labourer prefers twelve dollars a month to eight. The very cheapness of land, by lessening the value of its products, assists to create this state of things. As the population increases, the relative prices of labour will necessarily diminish, until the time shall come when men will go to sea in America, as elsewhere, because they can do nothing else. There is, however, another cause which must never be lost sight of, when one reasons on the inducements which tempt men to quit the land for the water. I mean the restlessness of moral excitement. This cause is more active in America, where the labouring classes read more, and hear more of adventure than any where else. It is true, that possibly one-third of the common seamen employed in
the foreign trade of America are foreigners; this fact is not, however, owing to any indisposition to the sea on the part of the natives, but to the superabundance of the supply in Europe, and the higher inducements which the American ship-owner is able to offer for labour. Nearly, or perhaps quite, in the proportion, however, as strangers come to us, do our own people go abroad. The American sailor is to be found all over the world, and wherever he is known, he is liked for his cleverness, and generally for his comparatively quiet habits. There is no political truth more certain in America, than that all demands will meet with their supply. To those who are familiar with the subject, it is often a matter of surprise to witness how infallibly and how soon an extraordinary demand for labour produces a glut in a country where every
Vol. I.
“As respects the supposed difference between the interests of what you call the maritime, and of the interior States, it has no real existence, and can, therefore, never produce any important results. It is difficult to imagine a state of society where there is so little competition, (the source of all discord,) between its members, as is to be found in the United States. The unfortunate and lamentable grievance of slavery ceases to be an evil in this respect. That momentary collisions of opinion do arise between northern and southern, between eastern and western policy, is undeniable; but they are far more the results of the right to complain, than of any natural disability to maintain the connexion. Fancy for a moment, that Ireland, Scotland, Canada, and the West Indies, could make themselves, not heard, but felt in the councils of their empire, and then figure to yourself the discord that would follow! Nay, look at that which does at this moment exist, when their voices are so feeble, and their efforts so impotent. Now, in America, the southern planter has need of the shipping and manufactures of some one. He has only to ask himself whether he will use those of a people in whose councils he shares, or those, of strangers.inland State
of America. The territorial limits of the States are ideal, so far as commerce is concerned. As bodies politic, the States are totally mute in the matter. Neither is extent of coast any evidence of the maritime habits of a State. New-York, with more shipping, has less coast (if an island without ports be excepted,) than the two smallest States of the Union. Out of twenty-four States, seventeen touch the sea, five lie on the great lakes, and the remaining three have direct navigable water communication with the port of New-Orleans, and will shortly have an internal water communication with that of New-York.
“As to manufactures, they are clearly a means of aiding commerce, when they exist in communities that can profit by both. It will be adding one more to the other numerous nautical resources of the country, let them thrive with us today, or fifty years hence, since, putting exportation out of the question, they will clearly increase the objects of intercommunication.
“I know of but one other manner of considering the matter that is embraced by your query. It does not, in truth, properly belong to the subject, though, as it is always forced into view in Europe, I presume you may expect me to say something concerning it, here. I mean the extent to which emigration will affect navigation, by depriving the maritime States of their seamen. I have already said, that should there be a demand for seamen, it would produce, when necessary, a counter-current. But it never can be necessary. Of this truth you will be convinced by a simple statement of facts. Though, perhaps, one-third, and sometimes one-halfforeign
trade may be foreigners, the country has always possessed enough of its own to conduct its commerce. Thousands live on shore for years at a time, and thousands are induced to go abroad in quest of adventure. In the trade, coastwise, fisheries &c. &c. nine-tenths, or, perhaps, more are natives. Now these men have been chiefly supplied by five of the New-England, and the five middle States. In 1790, the population of these ten States amounted to 2,264,536. In 1820, it had reached 4,603,974; that is to say, it had doubled in thirty years, notwithstanding the vast emigration they had sent to the west. This increase is certainly liable to some explanation. During this time, New-York, Pennsylvania, Maine, and New-Hampshire, have been, comparatively speaking, new States. But the two latter have never been favourites, and all have, for the last fifteen years, sent forth more emigrants than they have received, and they have received few settlers that did not come from some one of the other six. The increase of these ten States between the years 1810 and 1820, a period during which they must have been losers by the emijation, was little short of 900,000 souls. Thus, you see, the question has become exceedingly narrow. If the fact, that we have now a sufficient number of native seamen, to conduct our trade, be admitted, the tonnage of the country must double in thirty years, or the increase of the population of these ten States alone can furnish the necessary supply for the future. In making these remarks, I have excluded foreign emigration from the estimates, since it is well known that it produces no visible effect on the population of the country. It has been judiciously calculated that, all births allowed, the population of the United States was scarcely augmented 200,000 souls, by foreign emigration, in five-and-thirty years. It said to be increasing a little just
now, a fact that will, of course only facilitate our ability to meet any extraordinary demand for men.”
END OF VOL. I.