THERE are many passages in this book, where I have been at some
pains to resist the temptation of troubling my readers with my own deductions
and conclusions: preferring that they should judge for themselves, from such
premises as I have laid before them. My only object in the outset, was, to carry
them with me faithfully wheresoever I went: and that task I have discharged.
But I may be pardoned, if on such a theme as the general character of the
American people, and the general character of their social system, as presented
to a stranger's eyes, I desire to express my own opinions in a few words, before
I bring these volumes to a close.
They are, by nature, frank, brave, cordial, hospitable, and affectionate.
Cultivation and refinement seem but to enhance their warmth of heart and ardent
enthusiasm; and it is the possession of these latter qualities in a most
remarkable degree, which renders an educated American one of the most endearing
and most generous of friends. I never was so won upon, as by this class; never
yielded up my full confidence and esteem so readily and pleasurably, as to them;
never can make again, in half a year, so many friends for whom I seem to
entertain the regard of half a life.
These qualities are natural, I implicitly believe, to the whole people. That
they are, however, sadly sapped and blighted in their growth among the mass; and
that there are influences at work which endanger them still more, and give but
little present promise of their healthy restoration; is a truth that ought to be
told.
It is an essential part of every national character to pique itself mightily
upon its faults, and to deduce tokens of its virtue or its wisdom from their
very exaggeration. One great blemish in the popular mind of America, and the
prolific parent of an innumerable brood of evils, is Universal Distrust. Yet the
American citizen plumes himself upon this spirit, even when he is sufficiently
dispassionate to perceive the ruin it works; and will often adduce it, in spite
of his own reason, as an instance of the great sagacity and acuteness of the
people, and their superior shrewdness and independence.
'You carry,' says the stranger, 'this jealousy and distrust into every
transaction of public life. By repelling worthy men from your legislative
assemblies, it has bred up a class of candidates for the suffrage, who, in their
very act, disgrace your Institutions and your people's choice. It has rendered
you so fickle, and so given to change, that your inconstancy has passed into a
proverb; for you no sooner set up an idol firmly, than you are sure to pull it
down and dash it into fragments: and this, because directly you reward a
benefactor, or a public servant, you distrust him, merely because he is
rewarded; and immediately apply yourselves to find out, either that you have
been too bountiful in your acknowledgments, or he remiss in his deserts. Any man
who attains a high place among you, from the President downwards, may date his
downfall from that moment; for any printed lie that any notorious villain pens,
although it militate directly against the character and conduct of a life,
appeals at once to your distrust, and is believed. You will strain at a gnat in
the way of trustfulness and confidence, however fairly won and well deserved;
but you will swallow a whole caravan of camels, if they be laden with unworthy
doubts and mean suspicions. Is this well, think you, or likely to elevate the
character of the governors or the governed, among you?'
The answer is invariably the same: 'There's freedom of opinion here, you
know. Every man thinks for himself, and we are not to be easily overreached.
That's how our people come to be suspicious.'
Another prominent feature is the love of 'smart' dealing: which gilds over
many a swindle and gross breach of trust; many a defalcation, public and
private; and enables many a knave to hold his head up with the best, who well
deserves a halter; though it has not been without its retributive operation, for
this smartness has done more in a few years to impair the public credit, and to
cripple the public resources, than dull honesty, however rash, could have
effected in a century. The merits of a broken speculation, or a bankruptcy, or
of a successful scoundrel, are not gauged by its or his observance of the golden
rule, 'Do as you would be done by,' but are considered with reference to their
smartness. I recollect, on both occasions of our passing that ill- fated Cairo
on the Mississippi, remarking on the bad effects such gross deceits must have
when they exploded, in generating a want of confidence abroad, and discouraging
foreign investment: but I was given to understand that this was a very smart
scheme by which a deal of money had been made: and that its smartest feature
was, that they forgot these things abroad, in a very short time, and speculated
again, as freely as ever. The following dialogue I have held a hundred times:
'Is it not a very disgraceful circumstance that such a man as So-and-so should
be acquiring a large property by the most infamous and odious means, and
notwithstanding all the crimes of which he has been guilty, should be tolerated
and abetted by your Citizens? He is a public nuisance, is he not?' 'Yes, sir.'
'A convicted liar?' 'Yes, sir.' 'He has been kicked, and cuffed, and caned?'
'Yes, sir.' 'And he is utterly dishonourable, debased, and profligate?' 'Yes,
sir.' 'In the name of wonder, then, what is his merit?' 'Well, sir, he is a
smart man.'
In like manner, all kinds of deficient and impolitic usages are referred to
the national love of trade; though, oddly enough, it would be a weighty charge
against a foreigner that he regarded the Americans as a trading people. The love
of trade is assigned as a reason for that comfortless custom, so very prevalent
in country towns, of married persons living in hotels, having no fireside of
their own, and seldom meeting from early morning until late at night, but at the
hasty public meals. The love of trade is a reason why the literature of America
is to remain for ever unprotected 'For we are a trading people, and don't care
for poetry:' though we DO, by the way, profess to be very proud of our poets:
while healthful amusements, cheerful means of recreation, and wholesome fancies,
must fade before the stern utilitarian joys of trade.
These three characteristics are strongly presented at every turn, full in the
stranger's view. But, the foul growth of America has a more tangled root than
this; and it strikes its fibres, deep in its licentious Press.
Schools may be erected, East, West, North, and South; pupils be taught, and
masters reared, by scores upon scores of thousands; colleges may thrive,
churches may be crammed, temperance may be diffused, and advancing knowledge in
all other forms walk through the land with giant strides: but while the
newspaper press of America is in, or near, its present abject state, high moral
improvement in that country is hopeless. Year by year, it must and will go back;
year by year, the tone of public feeling must sink lower down; year by year, the
Congress and the Senate must become of less account before all decent men; and
year by year, the memory of the Great Fathers of the Revolution must be outraged
more and more, in the bad life of their degenerate child.
Among the herd of journals which are published in the States, there are some,
the reader scarcely need be told, of character and credit. From personal
intercourse with accomplished gentlemen connected with publications of this
class, I have derived both pleasure and profit. But the name of these is Few,
and of the others Legion; and the influence of the good, is powerless to
counteract the moral poison of the bad.
Among the gentry of America; among the well-informed and moderate: in the
learned professions; at the bar and on the bench: there is, as there can be, but
one opinion, in reference to the vicious character of these infamous journals.
It is sometimes contended - I will not say strangely, for it is natural to seek
excuses for such a disgrace - that their influence is not so great as a visitor
would suppose. I must be pardoned for saying that there is no warrant for this
plea, and that every fact and circumstance tends directly to the opposite
conclusion.
When any man, of any grade of desert in intellect or character, can climb to
any public distinction, no matter what, in America, without first grovelling
down upon the earth, and bending the knee before this monster of depravity; when
any private excellence is safe from its attacks; when any social confidence is
left unbroken by it, or any tie of social decency and honour is held in the
least regard; when any man in that free country has freedom of opinion, and
presumes to think for himself, and speak for himself, without humble reference
to a censorship which, for its rampant ignorance and base dishonesty, he utterly
loathes and despises in his heart; when those who most acutely feel its infamy
and the reproach it casts upon the nation, and who most denounce it to each
other, dare to set their heels upon, and crush it openly, in the sight of all
men: then, I will believe that its influence is lessening, and men are returning
to their manly senses. But while that Press has its evil eye in every house, and
its black hand in every appointment in the state, from a president to a postman;
while, with ribald slander for its only stock in trade, it is the standard
literature of an enormous class, who must find their reading in a newspaper, or
they will not read at all; so long must its odium be upon the country's head,
and so long must the evil it works, be plainly visible in the Republic.
To those who are accustomed to the leading English journals, or to the
respectable journals of the Continent of Europe; to those who are accustomed to
anything else in print and paper; it would be impossible, without an amount of
extract for which I have neither space nor inclination, to convey an adequate
idea of this frightful engine in America. But if any man desire confirmation of
my statement on this head, let him repair to any place in this city of London,
where scattered numbers of these publications are to be found; and there, let
him form his own opinion. (1)
It would be well, there can be no doubt, for the American people as a whole,
if they loved the Real less, and the Ideal somewhat more. It would be well, if
there were greater encouragement to lightness of heart and gaiety, and a wider
cultivation of what is beautiful, without being eminently and directly useful.
But here, I think the general remonstrance, 'we are a new country,' which is so
often advanced as an excuse for defects which are quite unjustifiable, as being,
of right, only the slow growth of an old one, may be very reasonably urged: and
I yet hope to hear of there being some other national amusement in the United
States, besides newspaper politics.
They certainly are not a humorous people, and their temperament always
impressed me is being of a dull and gloomy character. In shrewdness of remark,
and a certain cast-iron quaintness, the Yankees, or people of New England,
unquestionably take the lead; as they do in most other evidences of
intelligence. But in travelling about, out of the large cities - as I have
remarked in former parts of these volumes - I was quite oppressed by the
prevailing seriousness and melancholy air of business: which was so general and
unvarying, that at every new town I came to, I seemed to meet the very same
people whom I had left behind me, at the last. Such defects as are perceptible
in the national manners, seem, to me, to be referable, in a great degree, to
this cause: which has generated a dull, sullen persistence in coarse usages, and
rejected the graces of life as undeserving of attention. There is no doubt that
Washington, who was always most scrupulous and exact on points of ceremony,
perceived the tendency towards this mistake, even in his time, and did his
utmost to correct it.
I cannot hold with other writers on these subjects that the prevalence of
various forms of dissent in America, is in any way attributable to the
non-existence there of an established church: indeed, I think the temper of the
people, if it admitted of such an Institution being founded amongst them, would
lead them to desert it, as a matter of course, merely because it WAS
established. But, supposing it to exist, I doubt its probable efficacy in
summoning the wandering sheep to one great fold, simply because of the immense
amount of dissent which prevails at home; and because I do not find in America
any one form of religion with which we in Europe, or even in England, are
unacquainted. Dissenters resort thither in great numbers, as other people do,
simply because it is a land of resort; and great settlements of them are
founded, because ground can be purchased, and towns and villages reared, where
there were none of the human creation before. But even the Shakers emigrated
from England; our country is not unknown to Mr. Joseph Smith, the apostle of
Mormonism, or to his benighted disciples; I have beheld religious scenes myself
in some of our populous towns which can hardly be surpassed by an American camp-
meeting; and I am not aware that any instance of superstitious imposture on the
one hand, and superstitious credulity on the other, has had its origin in the
United States, which we cannot more than parallel by the precedents of Mrs.
Southcote, Mary Tofts the rabbit-breeder, or even Mr. Thorn of Canterbury: which
latter case arose, some time after the dark ages had passed away.
The Republican Institutions of America undoubtedly lead the people to assert
their self-respect and their equality; but a traveller is bound to bear those
Institutions in his mind, and not hastily to resent the near approach of a class
of strangers, who, at home, would keep aloof. This characteristic, when it was
tinctured with no foolish pride, and stopped short of no honest service, never
offended me; and I very seldom, if ever, experienced its rude or unbecoming
display. Once or twice it was comically developed, as in the following case; but
this was an amusing incident, and not the rule, or near it.
I wanted a pair of boots at a certain town, for I had none to travel in, but
those with the memorable cork soles, which were much too hot for the fiery decks
of a steamboat. I therefore sent a message to an artist in boots, importing,
with my compliments, that I should be happy to see him, if he would do me the
polite favour to call. He very kindly returned for answer, that he would 'look
round' at six o'clock that evening.
I was lying on the sofa, with a book and a wine-glass, at about that time,
when the door opened, and a gentleman in a stiff cravat, within a year or two on
either side of thirty, entered, in his hat and gloves; walked up to the
looking-glass; arranged his hair; took off his gloves; slowly produced a measure
from the uttermost depths of his coat-pocket; and requested me, in a languid
tone, to 'unfix' my straps. I complied, but looked with some curiosity at his
hat, which was still upon his head. It might have been that, or it might have
been the heat - but he took it off. Then, he sat himself down on a chair
opposite to me; rested an arm on each knee; and, leaning forward very much, took
from the ground, by a great effort, the specimen of metropolitan workmanship
which I had just pulled off: whistling, pleasantly, as he did so. He turned it
over and over; surveyed it with a contempt no language can express; and inquired
if I wished him to fix me a boot like THAT? I courteously replied, that provided
the boots were large enough, I would leave the rest to him; that if convenient
and practicable, I should not object to their bearing some resemblance to the
model then before him; but that I would be entirely guided by, and would beg to
leave the whole subject to, his judgment and discretion. 'You an't partickler,
about this scoop in the heel, I suppose then?' says he: 'we don't foller that,
here.' I repeated my last observation. He looked at himself in the glass again;
went closer to it to dash a grain or two of dust out of the corner of his eye;
and settled his cravat. All this time, my leg and foot were in the air. 'Nearly
ready, sir?' I inquired. 'Well, pretty nigh,' he said; 'keep steady.' I kept as
steady as I could, both in foot and face; and having by this time got the dust
out, and found his pencil-case, he measured me, and made the necessary notes.
When he had finished, he fell into his old attitude, and taking up the boot
again, mused for some time. 'And this,' he said, at last, 'is an English boot,
is it? This is a London boot, eh?' 'That, sir,' I replied, 'is a London boot.'
He mused over it again, after the manner of Hamlet with Yorick's skull; nodded
his head, as who should say, 'I pity the Institutions that led to the production
of this boot!'; rose; put up his pencil, notes, and paper - glancing at himself
in the glass, all the time - put on his hat - drew on his gloves very slowly;
and finally walked out. When he had been gone about a minute, the door reopened,
and his hat and his head reappeared. He looked round the room, and at the boot
again, which was still lying on the floor; appeared thoughtful for a minute; and
then said 'Well, good arternoon.' 'Good afternoon, sir,' said I: and that was
the end of the interview.
There is but one other head on which I wish to offer a remark; and that has
reference to the public health. In so vast a country, where there are thousands
of millions of acres of land yet unsettled and uncleared, and on every rood of
which, vegetable decomposition is annually taking place; where there are so many
great rivers, and such opposite varieties of climate; there cannot fail to be a
great amount of sickness at certain seasons. But I may venture to say, after
conversing with many members of the medical profession in America, that I am not
singular in the opinion that much of the disease which does prevail, might be
avoided, if a few common precautions were observed. Greater means of personal
cleanliness, are indispensable to this end; the custom of hastily swallowing
large quantities of animal food, three times a-day, and rushing back to
sedentary pursuits after each meal, must be changed; the gentler sex must go
more wisely clad, and take more healthful exercise; and in the latter clause,
the males must be included also. Above all, in public institutions, and
throughout the whole of every town and city, the system of ventilation, and
drainage, and removal of impurities requires to be thoroughly revised. There is
no local Legislature in America which may not study Mr. Chadwick's excellent
Report upon the Sanitary Condition of our Labouring Classes, with immense
advantage.
* * * * * *
I HAVE now arrived at the close of this book. I have little reason to
believe, from certain warnings I have had since I returned to England, that it
will be tenderly or favourably received by the American people; and as I have
written the Truth in relation to the mass of those who form their judgments and
express their opinions, it will be seen that I have no desire to court, by any
adventitious means, the popular applause.
It is enough for me, to know, that what I have set down in these pages,
cannot cost me a single friend on the other side of the Atlantic, who is, in
anything, deserving of the name. For the rest, I put my trust, implicitly, in
the spirit in which they have been conceived and penned; and I can bide my time.
I have made no reference to my reception, nor have I suffered it to influence
me in what I have written; for, in either case, I should have offered but a
sorry acknowledgment, compared with that I bear within my breast, towards those
partial readers of my former books, across the Water, who met me with an open
hand, and not with one
that closed upon an iron muzzle.
THE END
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