The tyranny of the majority has completely destroyed the moral courage of the American people, and without moral courage what chance is there of any fixed standard of morality?

M. Tocqueville observes, "Democratic republics extend the practice of currying favour with the many, and they introduce it into a greater number of classes at once: this is one of the most serious reproaches that can be addressed to them. In democratic States organised on the principles of the American republics this is more especially the case, where the authority of the majority is so absolute and irresistible, that a man must give up his rights as a citizen, and almost abjure his quality as a human being, if he intends to stray from the track which it lays down.

"In that immense crowd which throngs the avenues to power in the United States, I found very few men who displayed any of that manly candour, and that masculine independence of opinion, which frequently distinguished the Americans in former times, and which constitutes the leading feature in distinguished characters wheresoever they may be found. It seems, at first sight, as if all the minds of the Americans were formed upon one model, so accurately do they correspond in their manner of judging. A stranger does, indeed, sometimes meet with Americans who dissent from these rigorous formularies; with men who deplore the defects of the laws; the mutability and the ignorance of democracy; who even go so far as to observe the evil tendencies which impair the national character, and to point out such remedies as it might be possible to apply; but no one is there to hear these things beside yourself, and you, to whom these secret reflections are confided, are a stranger and a bird of passage. They are very ready to communicate truths which are useless to you, but they continue to hold a different language in public." See note 2.

There are a few exceptions—Clay and Webster are men of such power as to be able, to a certain degree, to hold their independence. Dr Channing has proved himself an honour to his country and to the world. Mr Cooper has also great merit in this point and no man has certainly shewn more moral courage, let his case be good or not, than Garrison, the leader of the abolition party.

But with these few and remarkable exceptions, moral courage is almost prostrate in the United States. The most decided specimen I met with to the contrary was at Cincinnati, when a large portion of the principal inhabitants ventured to express their opinion, contrary to the will of the majority, in my defence, and boldly proclaimed their opinions by inviting me to a public dinner. I told them my opinion of their behaviour, and I gave them my thanks. I repeat my opinion and my thanks now; they had much to contend with, but they resisted boldly; and not only from that remarkable instance of daring to oppose public opinion when all others quailed, but from many other circumstances, I have an idea that Cincinnati will one day take an important lead, as much from the spirit and courage of her citizens, as from her peculiarly fortunate position. I had a striking instance to the contrary at St Louis, when they paraded me in effigy through the streets. Certain young Bostonians, who would have been glad enough to have seized my hand when in the Eastern States, before I had happened to affront the majority, kept aloof, or shuffled away, so as not to be obliged to recognise me. Such have been the demoralising effects of the tyranny of public opinion in the short space of fifty years, and I will now wind up this chapter by submitting to the reader extracts from the two French authors, one of whom describes America in 1782, and the other in 1835.

AMERICA IN 1782.

"Je vais, disais-je, mettre a la voile aujour-d'hui; je m'eloigne avec un regret infini d'un pays ou l'on est, sans obstacle et sans inconvenient, ce qu'on devrait etre partout, sincere et libre."—"On y pense, on y dit, on y fait ce qu'on veut. Rien ne vous oblige d'y etre ni faux, ni bas, ni flatteur. Personne ne se choque de la singularite de vos manieres ni de vos gouts."—Memoires ou Souvenirs de Monsieur de Segur, volume I, page 409.

AMERICA IN 1835.

"L'Amerique est donc un pays de liberte, ou pour ne blesser personne, on ne doit parler librement, ni des gouvernans, ni des gouvernes, ni des eutreprises publiques, ni des entreprises privees; de rien, enfin, de ce qu'on y rencontre si non peut-etre du climat et du sol; encore trouve-t-on des Americains prets a defendre l'un et l'autre, comme s'ils avaient concouru a les former."—Monsieur de Tocqueville sur la Democratie aux Etats Unis de l'Amerique, volume II, page 118.

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Note 1. A striking instance of the excesses which may be occasioned by the despotism of the majority, occurred at Baltimore in 1812. At that time the war was very popular in Baltimore. A journal, which had taken the other side of the question, excited the indignation of the inhabitants by its opposition. The populace assembled, broke the printing-presses, and attacked the houses of the newspaper editors. The militia was called out, but no one obeyed the call, and the only means of saving the poor wretches, who were threatened by the frenzy of the mob, were to throw them into prison as common malefactors. But even this precaution was ineffectual; the mob collected again during the night, the magistrates again made a vain attempt to call out the militia, the prison was forced, one of the newspaper editors was killed upon the spot, and the others were left for dead when the guilty parties were brought to trial, they were acquitted by the jury.

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Note 2. Mr Carey in his introduction says, "Freedom of discussion is highly promotive of the power of protection. The free expressions of opinion in relation to matters of public interest is indispensable to security."

He denies that we have it in England, and would prove that this exists in America: and how?

1st. By the permission of every man to be of any religion he pleases!!

2nd. By the freedom of the press in the United States!!



VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER THREE.

PATRIOTISM.

This is a word of very doubtful meaning; and until we have the power to analyse the secret springs of action, it is impossible to say who is or who is not a patriot. The Chartist, the White Boy, may really be patriots in their hearts, although they are attempting revolution, and are looked upon as the enemies of good order. Joseph Hume may be a patriot, so may O'Connell, so may —; but never mind; I consider that if in most cases, in all countries the word egotism were substituted it would be more correct, and particularly so in America.

M. Tocqueville says, "The inhabitants of the United States talk a great deal of their attachment to their country; but I confess that I do not rely upon that calculating patriotism which is founded upon interest, and which a change in the interests at stake may obliterate."

The fact is, that the American is aware that what affects the general prosperity must affect the individual, and he therefore is anxious for the general prosperity; he also considers that he assists to legislate for the country, and is therefore equally interested in such legislature being prosperous; if, therefore, you attack his country, you attack him personally—you wound his vanity and self-love.

In America it is not our rulers who have done wrong or right; it is we (or rather I) who have done wrong or right, and the consequence is, that the American is rather irritable on the subject, as every attack is taken as personal. It is quite ridiculous to observe how some of the very best of the Americans are tickled when you praise their country and institutions; how they will wince at any qualification in your praise, and actually writhe under any positive disparagement. They will put questions, even if they anticipate an unfavourable answer; they cannot help it. What is the reason of this? Simply their better sense wrestling with the errors of education and long-cherished fallacies. They feel that their institutions do not work as they would wish; that the theory is not borne out by the practice, and they want support against their own convictions. They cannot bear to eradicate deep-rooted prejudices, which have been from their earliest days a source of pride and vain-glory; and to acknowledge that what they have considered as most perfect, what they have boasted of as a lesson to other nations, what they have suffered so much to uphold, in surrendering their liberty of speech, of action, and of opinion, has after all proved to be a miserable failure, and instead of a lesson to other nations—a warning.

Yet such are the doubts, the misgivings which fluctuate in, and irritate the minds of a very large proportion of the Americans; and such is the decided conviction of a portion who retire into obscurity and are silent; and every year adds to the number of both these parties. They remind one of a husband who, having married for love, and supposed his wife to be perfection, gradually finds out that she is full of faults, and renders him anything but happy; but his pride will not allow him to acknowledge that he has committed an error in his choice, and he continues before the world to descant upon her virtues, and to conceal her errors, while he feels that his home is miserable.

It is because it is more egotistical that the patriotism of the American is more easily roused and more easily affronted. He has been educated to despise all other countries, and to look upon his own as the first in the world; he has been taught that all other nations are slaves to despots, and that the American citizen only is free, and this is never contradicted. For although thousands may in their own hearts feel the falsehood of their assertions, there is not one who will venture to express his opinion. The government sets the example, the press follows it, and the people receive the incense of flattery, which in other countries is offered to the court alone; and if it were not for the occasional compunctions and doubts, which his real good sense will sometimes visit him with, the more enlightened American would be as happy in his own delusions, as the majority most certainly may be said to be.

M. Tocqueville says, "For the last fifty years no pains have been spared to convince the inhabitants of the United States that they constitute the only religious, enlightened, and free people. They perceive that, for the present, their own democratic institutions succeed, while those of other countries fall; hence they conceive an overweening opinion of their superiority, and they are not very remote from believing themselves to belong to a distinct race of mankind."

There are, however, other causes which assist this delusion on the part of the majority of the Americans; the principal of which is the want of comparison. The Americans are too far removed from the Old Continent, and are too much occupied even if they were not, to have time to visit it, and make the comparison between the settled countries and their own. America is so vast, that if they travel in it, their ideas of their own importance become magnified. The only comparisons they are able to make are only as to the quantity of square acres in each country, which, of course, is vastly in their favour.

Mr Sanderson, the American, in his clever Sketches of Paris, observes, "It is certainly of much value in the life of an American gentleman to visit these old countries, if it were only to form a just estimate of his own, which he is continually liable to mistake, and always to overrate without objects of comparison; 'nimium se aestimet necesse est, qui se nemini comparat.' He will always think himself wise who sees nobody wiser; and to know the customs and institutions of foreign countries, which one cannot know well without residing there, is certainly the complement of a good education."

After all, is there not a happiness in this delusion on the part of the American majority, and is not the feeling of admiration of their own country borrowed from ourselves? The feeling may be more strong with the Americans, because it is more egotistical; but it certainly is the English feeling transplanted, and growing in a ranker soil. We may accuse the Americans of conceit, of wilful blindness, of obstinacy; but there is after all a great good in being contented with yourself and yours. The English shew it differently; but the English are not so good-tempered as the Americans. They grumble at everything; they know the faults of their institutions, but at the same time they will allow of no interference. Grumbling is a luxury so great, that an Englishman will permit it only to himself. The Englishman grumbles at his government, under which he enjoys more rational liberty than the individual of any other nation in the world. The American, ruled by the despotism of the majority, and without liberty of opinion or speech, praises his institutions to the skies. The Englishman grumbles at his climate, which, if we were to judge from the vigour and perfection of the inhabitants, is, notwithstanding its humidity, one of the best in the world. The American vaunts his above all others, and even thinks it necessary to apologise for a bad day, although the climate, from its sudden extremes, withers up beauty, and destroys the nervous system. In everything connected with, and relating to, America, the American has the same feeling. Calculating, wholly matter-of-fact and utilitarian in his ideas, without a poetic sense of his own, he is annoyed if a stranger does not express that rapture at their rivers, waterfalls, and woodland scenery, which he himself does not feel. As far as America is concerned, everything is for the best in this best of all possible countries. It is laughable, yet praiseworthy, to observe how the whole nation will stoop down to fan the slightest spark which is elicited of native genius—like the London citizen, who is enraptured with his own stunted cucumbers, which he has raised at ten times the expense which would have purchased fine ones in the market. It were almost a pity that the American should be awakened from his dream, if it were not that the arrogance and conceit arising from it may eventually plunge him into difficulty.

But let us be fair; America is the country of enthusiasm and hope, and we must not be too severe upon what from a virgin soil has, sprung up too luxuriantly. It is but the English amor patriae carried to too great an excess. The Americans are great boasters; but are we far behind them? One of our most popular songs runs as follows:—

"We ne'er see our foes, but we wish them to stay; They never see us, but they wish us away."

What can be more bragging, or more untrue, than the words of these lines? In the same way in England the common people hold it as a proverb, that, "one Englishman can beat three Frenchmen," but there are not many Englishmen who would succeed in the attempt. Nor is it altogether wrong to encourage these feelings; although arrogance is a fault in an individual, in a national point of view, it often becomes the incentive to great actions, and, if not excessive, insures the success inspired by confidence. As by giving people credit for a virtue which they have not, you very often produce that virtue in them, I think it not unwise to implant this feeling in the hearts of the lower classes, who if they firmly believe that they can beat three Frenchmen, will at all events attempt to do it. That too great success is dangerous, and that the feeling of arrogance produced by it may lead us into the error of despising our enemy, we ourselves showed an example of in our first contest with America during the last war. In that point America and England have now changed positions, and from false education, want of comparison, and unexpected success in their struggle with us, they are now much more arrogant than we were when most flushed with victory. They are blind to their own faults and to the merits of others, and while they are so it is clear that they will offend strangers, and never improve themselves. I have often laughed at the false estimate held by the majority in America as to England. One told me, with a patronising air, that, "in a short time, England would only be known as having been the mother of America."

"When you go into our interior, Captain," said a New York gentleman to me, "you will see plants, such as rhododendrons, magnolias, and hundreds of others, such as they have no conception of in your own country."

One of Jim Crow's verses in America is a fair copy from us—

"Englishman he beat Two French or Portugee; Yankee-doodle come down, Whip them all three."

But an excellent specimen of the effect of American education was given the other day in this country, by an American lad of fourteen or fifteen years old. He was at a dinner party, and after dinner the conversation turned upon the merits of the Duke of Wellington. After hearing the just encomiums for some time with fidgetty impatience, the lad rose from his chair, "You talk about your Duke of Wellington, what do you say to Washington; do you pretend to compare Wellington to Washington? Now, I'll just tell you, if Washington could be standing here now, and the Duke of Wellington was only to look him in the face, why, Sir, Wellington would drop down dead in an instant." This I was told by the gentleman at whose table it occurred.

Even when they can use their eyes, they will not. I overheard a conversation on the deck of a steam-boat between a man who had just arrived from England and another. "Have they much trade at Liverpool?" inquired the latter. "Yes, they've some." "And at London?" "Not much there, I reckon. New York, Sir, is the emporium of the whole world."

This national vanity is fed in every possible way. At one of the museums, I asked the subject of a picture representing a naval engagement; the man (supposing I was an American, I presume) replied, "That ship there," pointing to one twice as big as the other, "is the Macedonian English frigate, and that other frigate," pointing to the small one, "is the Constitution American frigate, which captured her in less than five minutes." Indeed, so great has this feeling become from indulgence, that they will not allow anything to stand in its way, and will sacrifice anybody or anything to support it. It was not until I arrived in the United States that I was informed by several people that Captain Lawrence, who commanded the Chesapeake, was drunk when he went into action. Speaking of the action, one man shook his head, and said, "Pity poor Lawrence had his failing; he was otherwise a good officer." I was often told the same thing, and a greater libel was never uttered; but thus was a gallant officer's character sacrificed to sooth the national vanity. I hardly need observe, that the American naval officers are as much disgusted with the assertion as I was myself. That Lawrence fought under disadvantages—that many of his ship's company, hastily collected together from leave, were not sober, and that there was a want of organisation from just coming out of harbour,—is true, and quite sufficient to account for his defeat; but I have the evidence of those who walked with him down to his boat, that he was perfectly sober, cool, and collected, as he always had proved himself to be. But there is no gratitude in a democracy, and to be unfortunate is to be guilty.

There is a great deal of patriotism of one sort or the other in the American women. I recollect once, when conversing with a highly cultivated and beautiful American woman, I inquired if she knew a lady who had been some time in England, and who was a great favourite of mine. She replied, "Yes." "Don't you like her?" "To confess the truth, I do not," replied she; "she is too English for me." "That is to say, she likes England and the English." "That is what I mean." I replied, that, "had she been in England, she would probably have become too English also; for, with her cultivated and elegant ideas, she must naturally have been pleased with the refinement, luxury, and established grades in society, which it had taken eight hundred years to produce." "If that is to be the case, I hope I may never go to England."

Now, this was true patriotism, and there is much true patriotism among the higher classes of the American women; with them there is no alloy of egotism.

Indeed, all the women in America are very patriotic; but I do not give them all the same credit. In the first place, they are controlled by public opinion as much as the men are; and without assumed patriotism they would have no chance of getting husbands. As you descend in the scale, so are they the more noisy; and, I imagine, for that very reason the less sincere.

Among what may be termed the middling classes, I have been very much amused with the compound of vanity and ignorance which I have met with. Among this class they can read and write; but almost all their knowledge is confined to their own country, especially in geography, which I soon discovered. It was hard to beat them on American ground, but as soon as you got them off that they were defeated. I wish the reader to understand particularly, that I am not speaking now of the well-bred Americans, but of that portion which would with us be considered as on a par with the middle class of shop-keepers; for I had a very extensive acquaintance. My amusement was, to make some comparison between the two countries, which I knew would immediately bring on the conflict I desired; and not without danger, for I sometimes expected, in the ardour of their patriotism, to meet with the fate of Orpheus.

I soon found that the more I granted, the more they demanded; and that the best way was never to grant any thing. I was once in a room full of the softer sex, chiefly girls, of all ages; when the mamma of a portion of them, who was sitting on the sofa, as we mentioned steam, said, "Well now, Captain, you will allow that we are a-head of you there."

"No," replied I, "quite the contrary. Our steam-boats go all over the world—your's are afraid to leave the rivers."

"Well now, Captain, I suppose you'll allow America is a bit bigger country than England?"

"It's rather broader—but, if I recollect right, it's not quite so long."

"Why, Captain!"

"Well, only look at the map."

"Why, isn't the Mississippi a bigger river than you have in England?"

"Bigger? Pooh! haven't we got the Thames?"

"The Thames? why that's no river at all."

"Isn't it? Just look at the map, and measure them."

"Well, now, Captain, I tell you what, you call your Britain, the Mistress of the seas, yet we whipped you well, and you know that."

"Oh! yes—you refer to the Shannon and Chesapeake, don't you?"

"No! not that time, because Lawrence was drunk, they say; but didn't we whip you well at New Orleans?"

"No, you didn't."

"No? oh, Captain!"

"I say you did not.—If your people had come out from behind their cotton bales and sugar casks, we'd have knocked you all into a cocked hat; but they wouldn't come out, so we walked away in disgust."

"Now, Captain, that's romancing—that won't do." Here the little ones joined in the cry, "We did beat you, and you know it." And, hauling me into the centre of the room, they joined hands in a circle, and danced round me, singing:

"Yankee doodle is a tune, Which is nation handy. All the British ran away At Yankee doodle dandy."

I shall conclude by stating that this feeling, call it patriotism, or what you please, is so strongly implanted in the bosom of the American by education and association, that wherever, or whenever, the national honour or character is called into question, there is no sacrifice which they will not make to keep up appearances. It is this which induces them to acquit murderers, to hush up suicides, or any other offence which may reflect upon their asserted morality. I would put no confidence even in an official document from the government, for I have already ascertained how they will invariably be twisted, so as to give no offence to the majority; and the base adulation of the government to the people is such, that it dare not tell them the truth, or publish any thing which might wound its self-esteem.

I shall conclude with two extracts from a work of Mr Cooper, the American:—

"We are almost entirely wanting in national pride, though abundantly supplied with an irritable vanity, which might rise to pride had we greater confidence in our facts."

"We have the sensitiveness of provincials, increased by the consciousness of having our spurs to earn on all matters of glory and renown, and our jealousy extends even to the reputations of the cats and dogs."



VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FOUR.

ENGLAND AND THE UNITED STATES.

Captain Hamilton has, in his work, expressed his opinion that the Americans have no feeling of ill-will against this country. If Captain Hamilton had stated that the gentlemen and more respectable portion of the Americans, such as the New York merchants, etcetera, had no feeling against this country, and were most anxious to keep on good terms with us, he would have been much more correct. You will find all the respectable portion of the daily press using their best endeavours to reconcile any animosities, and there is nothing which an American gentleman is more eloquent upon, when he falls in with an Englishman, than in trying to convince him that there is no hostile feeling against this country. [See note 1.] I had not been a week at New York before I had this assurance given me at least twenty times, and I felt inclined at first to believe it: but I soon discovered that this feeling was only confined to a small minority, and that the feelings towards England of the majority, or democratic party, were of deep irreconcilable hatred. I am sorry to assert this; but it is better be known, that we may not be misled by any pretended good-will on the part of the government, or the partial good-will of a few enlightened individuals. Even those who have a feeling of regard and admiration for our country do not venture to make it known, and it would place them in so very unpleasant a situation, that they can scarcely be blamed for keeping their opinions to themselves. With the English they express it warmly, and I believe them to be sincere; but not being openly avowed by a few, it is not communicated or spread by kindling similar warmth in the hearts of others. Indeed it is not surprising, when we consider the national character, that there should be an ill feeling towards England; it would be much more strange if the feeling did not exist. That the Americans should, after their struggle for independence, have felt irritated against the mother country, is natural; they had been oppressed—they had successfully resented the oppression, and emancipated themselves. But still the feeling at that time was different from the one which at present exists. Then it might be compared to the feeling in the heart of a younger son of an ancient house, who had been compelled by harsh treatment to disunite from the head of the family, and provide for himself—still proud of his origin, yet resentful at the remembrance of injury—at times vindictive, at others full of tenderness and respect. The aristocratical and the democratical impulses by turns gaining the ascendant it was then a manly, fine feeling. The war of 1814, the most fatal event in the short American history, would not have been attended with any increase of ill-will, as the Americans were satisfied with their successful repulse of our attempts to invade the country, and their unexpected good fortune in their naval conflicts. They felt that they had consideration and respect in the eyes of other nations, and, what was to them still gratifying, the respect of England herself. In every point they were fortunate, for a peace was concluded upon honourable terms just as they were beginning to feel the bitter consequences of the war. But the effect of this war was to imbue the people with a strong idea of their military prowess, and the national glory became their favourite theme. Their hero, General was raised to the presidency by the democratical party, and ever since the Americans have been ready to bully or quarrel with anybody and about everything.

This feeling becomes stronger every day. They want to whip the whole world. The wise and prudent perceive the folly of this, and try all they can to produce a better feeling; but the majority are now irresistible, and their fiat will decide upon war or peace. The government is powerless in opposition to it; all it can do is to give a legal appearance to any act of violence.

This idea of their own prowess will be one cause of danger to their institutions, for war must ever be fatal to democracy. In this country, during peace, we became more and more democratic; but whenever we are again forced into war, the reins will be again tightened from necessity, and thus war must ever interfere with free institutions. A convincing proof of the idea the Americans have of their own prowess was when General Jackson made the claim for compensation from the French. Through the intermediation of England the claim was adjusted, and peace preserved; and the Americans are little aware what a debt of gratitude they owe to this country for its interference. They were totally ignorant of the power and resources of France. They had an idea, and I was told so fifty times, that France paid the money from fear, and that if she had not, they would have "whipped her into the little end of nothing."

I do not doubt that the Americans would have tried their best; but I am of opinion, (not withstanding the Americans would have been partially, from their acknowledged bravery, successful) that in two years France, with her means, which are well known to, and appreciated by, the English, would (to use their own terms again,) have made "an everlasting smash" of the United States, and the Americans would have had to conclude an ignominious peace. I am aware that this idea will be scouted in America as absurd; but still I am well persuaded that any protracted war would not only be their ruin in a pecuniary point of view, but fatal to their institutions. But to return.

There are many reasons why the Americans have an inveterate dislike to this country. In the first place, they are educated to dislike us and our monarchical institutions; their short history points out to them that we have been their only oppressor in the first instance, and their opponent ever since. Their annual celebration of the independence is an opportunity for vituperation of this country which is never lost sight of. Their national vanity is hurt by feeling what they would fain believe, that they are not the "greatest nation on earth;" that they are indebted to us, and the credit we give them, for their prosperity and rapid advance; that they must still look to us for their literature and the fine arts, and that, in short, they are still dependent upon England. I have before observed, that this hostile spirit against us is fanned by discontented emigrants, and by those authors who, to become popular with the majority, laud their own country and defame England; but the great cause of this increase of hostility against us is the democratical party having come into power, and who consider it necessary to excite animosity against this country. When ever it is requisite to throw a tub to the whale, the press is immediately full of abuse; everything is attributed to England, and the machinations of England; she is, by their accounts, here, there, and everywhere, plotting mischief and injury, from the Gulf of Florida to the Rocky Mountains. If we are to believe the democratic press, England is the cause of everything offensive to the majority—if money is scarce, it is England that has occasioned it—if credit is bad, it is England—if eggs are not fresh or beef is tough, it is, it must be, England. They remind you of the parody upon Fitzgerald in Smith's humorous and witty 'Rejected Addresses,' when he is supposed to write against Buonaparte:

Who made the quartern loaf and Luddites rise, Who fills the butchers' shops with large blue flies With a foul earthquake ravaged the Carraccas, And raised the price of dry goods and tobaccos?

Why, England. And all this the majority do steadfastly believe, because they wish to believe it.

How, then, is it possible that the lower classes in the United States, (and the lower and unenlightened principally compose the majority,) can have other than feelings of ill-will towards this country? and of what avail is it to us that the high-minded and sensible portion think otherwise, when they are in such a trifling minority, and afraid to express their sentiments? When we talk about a nation, we look to the mass, and that the mass are hostile, and inveterately hostile to this country, is a most undeniable fact.

There is another cause of hostility which I have not adverted to, the remarks upon them by travellers in their country, such as I am now making; but as the Americans never hear the truth from their own countrymen, it is only from foreigners [see note 2] that they can. Of course, after having been accustomed to flattery from their earliest days, the truth, when it does come, falls more heavily, and the injury and insult which they consider they have received is never forgotten.

Among the American authors who have increased the ill-will of his countrymen towards this country, Mr Cooper stands pre-eminent. Mr Bulwer has observed that the character and opinions of an author may be pretty fairly estimated by his writings. This is true, but they may be much better estimated by one species of writing than by another. In works of invention or imagination, it is but now and then, by an incidental remark, that we can obtain a clue to the author's feelings. Carried away by the interest of the story, and the vivid scene presented to the imagination, we are apt to form a better opinion of the author than he deserves, because we feel kindly and grateful towards him for the amusement which he has afforded us; but when a writer puts off the holiday dress of fiction, and appears before us in his every day costume, giving us his thoughts and feelings upon matters of fact, then it is that we can appreciate the real character of the author. Mr Cooper's character is not to be gained by reading his 'Pilot,' but it may be fairly estimated by reading his 'Travels in Switzerland,' and his remarks upon England. If, then, we are to judge of Mr Cooper by the above works, I have no hesitation in asserting that he appears to be a disappointed democrat, with a determined hostility to England and the English. This hostility on the part of Mr Cooper cannot proceed from any want of attention shewn him in this country, or want of acknowledgment of his merits as an author. It must be sought for elsewhere. The attacks upon the English in a work professed to be written upon Switzerland, prove how rancorous this feeling is on his part; and not all the works published by English travellers upon America have added so much to the hostile feeling against us, as Mr Cooper has done by his writings alone. Mr Cooper would appear to wish to detach his countrymen, not only from us, but from the whole European Continent. He tells them in his work on Switzerland, that they are not liked or esteemed any where, and that to acknowledge yourself an American is quite sufficient to make those recoil who were intending to advance. Mr Cooper is, in my opinion, very much mistaken in this point;—the people of the Continent do not as yet know enough of the Americans to decide upon their national character. He observes very truly, that no one appears to think any thing about the twelve millions; why so? because in Switzerland, Germany, and other nations in the heart of the Continent, they have no interest about a nation so widely separated from them, and from intercourse with which they receive neither profit nor loss. Neither do they think about the millions in South America, and not caring or hearing about them they can have formed no ideas of their character as a nation. If, then, the Americans are shunned (which I do not believe they are, for they are generally supposed to be a variety of Englishmen), it must be from the conduct of those individuals of the American nation who have travelled there, and not because, as Mr Cooper would imply, they have a democratic form of government. Have not the Swiss something similar, and are they shunned? Who cares what may be the form of government of a country divided from them by three or four thousand miles of water, and of whom they have only read? Every nation, as well as every individual, makes its own character; but Mr Cooper would prove that the dislike shewn to the Americans abroad is owing to the slander of them by the English, and he points out that in the books containing the names of travellers, he no less than twenty-five times observed offensive remarks written beneath the names of those who acknowledged themselves Americans. These books were at different places, places to which all tourists in Switzerland naturally repair. Did it never occur to Mr Cooper that one young fool of an Englishman, during his tour, might have been the author of all these obnoxious remarks, and is the folly of one insignificant individual to be gravely commented upon in a widely disseminated work, so as to occasion or increase the national ill-will? Surely there is little wisdom and much captiousness in this feeling.

How blinded by his ill-will must Mr Cooper be, to enter into a long discussion in the work I refer to, to prove that England deserves the title, among other national characteristics, of a blackguarding nation! founding his assertion upon the language of our daily press. If the English, judged by the press, are a blackguarding nation, what are the Americans, if they are to be judged by the same standard? we must be indebted to the Americans themselves for an epithet. To wind up, he more than once pronounced the English to be parvenus. There is an old proverb which says, "A man whose house is built of glass should not be the first to throw stones;" and that these last two charges should be brought against us by an American, is certainly somewhat singular and unfortunate.

That there should be a hostile feeling when English men go over to America to compete with them in business or in any profession, is natural; it would be the same everywhere; this feeling, however, in the United States is usually shewn by an attack upon the character of the party, so as to influence the public against him. There was an American practising phrenology, when a phrenologist arrived from England. As this opposition was not agreeable, the American immediately circulated a report that the English phrenologist had asserted that he had examined the skulls of many Americans, and that he had never fallen in with such thick-headed fellows in his life. This was quite sufficient—the English operator was obliged to clear out as fast as he could, and try his fortune elsewhere.

The two following placards were given me; they were pasted all over the city. What the offence was I never heard, but they are very amusing documents. It is the first time, I believe, that public singers were described as aristocrats, and Englishmen of the first stamp.

"Americans:—

"It remains with you to say whether or not you will be imposed upon by these base aristocrats, who come from England to America, in order to gain a livelihood, and despise the land that gives them bread.

"Some few years since there came to this country three 'gentlemen players,' who were received with open arms by the Americans, and treated more as brothers than strangers; when their pockets were full, in requital to our best endeavours to raise them to their merit, the ungrateful dogs turned round and abused us. It is useless, at present, to give the names of two of those gentlemen, as they are not now candidates for public favour; but there is one, Mr Hodges, who is at present engaged at the Pavilion Theatre. This thing has said publicly that the Americans were all 'a parcel of ignoramuses,' and that 'the yankee players' were 'perfect fools, not possessing the least particle of talent,' etcetera. We must be brief—should we repeat all we have heard it would fill a page of the News.

"Will the Americans be abused in this way without retaliation? We are always willing to bestow that respect which is due to strangers; but when our kindness is treated with contempt, and in return receive base epithets and abuse, let us 'block the game.'

"Once for all—will you permit this thing in pantaloons and whiskers, this brainless, un-ideaed cub, whom a thousand years will not suffice to lick into a bear, longer to impose upon your good-natures? If so, we shall conclude you have lost all of that spirit so characteristic of true born Americans.

"A word to Mr (?) Hodges.—When these meet your eye, a dignified contempt will most opportunely swell your breast—such is ever the case with the coward! In affected scorn, you will seek a shelter from the danger you dare not brave, but we warn you that one day must overtake you.

"Several Americans."

"AMERICANS ATTEND!

"Americans:—If there is a spark of that spirit in your blood with which your forefathers bequeathed you, I hope you will shew it when men come among us from a foreign shore to get a living, and while here to speak in terms towards our country and ourselves, derogatory to the feelings of an American to listen to. These men that I speak of are Mr Hodges and Mr Corri, Englishmen of the first stamp, who declare that the Yankees, (as we are all termed, and proud of the name I dare say,) 'are a parcel of ignoramuses—cannibals—don't know how to appreciate talent'—they possess very little I am certain. However, the thing stands thus: they have slandered our country, they have slandered us; and if they are permitted to play upon the boards of the Eagle Theatre, I shall conclude that we have lost all that spunk so characteristic in a True Born American."

There certainly is no good feeling in the majority towards England, and this is continually shewn in a variety of instances, particularly if there is any excitement from distress or other causes. At the time that the great commercial distress took place, the abuse of England was beyond all bounds; and in a public meeting of democrats at Philadelphia, the first resolution passed was, "that they did not owe England one farthing," and this is the general outcry of the lower orders when any thing was wrong. I have often argued with them on this subject, and never could convince them. This country has now fifty-five millions sterling invested in American securities, which is a large sum, and the majority consider that a war will spunge out this debt. Their argument which they constantly urged against me, has more soundness in it than would be supposed:—"If you declare war with us, what is the first thing you do, you seize all American vessels and all American property that you can lay hold of, which have entered into your ports on the faith of peace between the two countries. Now, why have we not an equal right to seize all English property whenever we can find it in this country?" But this, as I have observed, is the language of the democrats and locofocos. There are thousands of honourable men in America, not only as merchants, but in every other class, who are most anxious to keep on good terms with us, and have the kindest feelings towards England. Unfortunately they are but few compared to the majority, and much as they may regret the hostile feelings towards us, I am afraid that it is wholly out of their power to prevent their increase, which will be in exact proportion with the increase of the popular sway.

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Note 1. Soon after I arrived at New York, the naval officers very kindly sent me a diploma xxx member of their Lyceum, over at Brooklyn. I went over to visit the Lyceum, and, among the portraits in the most conspicuous part of the room was that of William the Fourth, with the "Sailor King" written underneath it in large capitals. As for the present Queen, her health has been repeatedly drank in my presence; indeed her accession to our throne appeared to have put a large portion of the Americans in good humour with monarchy. Up to the present she has been quite a pet of theirs, and they are continually asking questions concerning her. The fact is, that the Americans shew such outward deference to the other sex, that I do not think they would have any objection themselves to be governed by it; and if ever a monarchy were attempted in the United States, the first reigning sovereign ought to be a very pretty woman.

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Note 2. A proof that the feeling against England is increasing, is the singular fact that latterly they insist upon calling the English foreigners, a term which they formerly applied to all other nations, but not to ourselves.



VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FIVE.

SOCIETY.—GENERAL CHARACTER, ETCETERA.

The character of the Americans is that of a restless, uneasy people— they cannot sit still, they cannot listen attentively, unless the theme be politics or dollars—they must do something, and, like children, if they cannot do anything else, they will do mischief—their curiosity is unbounded, and they are very capricious. Acting upon impulse, they are very generous at one moment, and without a spark of charity the next. They are good-tempered, and possess great energy, ingenuity, bravery, and presence of mind. Such is the estimate I have formed of their general character, independent of the demoralising effects of their institutions, which renders it so anomalous.

The American author, Mr Sanderson, very truly observes of his countrymen, that, "they have grown vicious without the refinements and distractions of the fine arts and liberal amusements." The Americans have few amusements; they are too busy. Athletic sports they are indifferent to; they look only to those entertainments which feed their passion for excitement. The theatre is almost their only resort, and even that is not so well attended as it might be, considering their means. There are some very good and well-conducted theatres in America: the best are the Park and National at New York, the Tremont at Boston, and the Chesnut Street Theatre at Philadelphia. The American stock actors, as they term those who are not considered as stars, are better than our own; but were the theatres to depend upon stock actors they would be deserted—the love of novelty is the chief inducement of the Americans to frequent the theatre, and they look for importations of star actors from this country as regularly as they do for our manufactured goods, or the fashions from Paris. In most of the large cities they have two theatres; one for legitimate drama, and the other for melodrama, as the Bowery Theatre at New York, and the Walnut Street Theatre in Philadelphia; these latter are seldom visited by the aristocratical portion of the citizens.

The National Theatre at New York was originally built as an opera house, and the company procured from the Havannah; but the opera, from want of support, was a failure. It has since been taken by Mr James Wallack, in opposition to the Park Theatre. The two first seasons its success was indifferent; the Park having the advantage in situation, as well as of a long-standing reputation. But, latterly, from the well-known talent and superior management of Mr Wallack, and from his unwearied exertions in providing novelties for the American public, it has been very successful; so much so, that it is said this last year to have decidedly obtained the superiority over its rival. I have seen some splendid representations in the National Theatre, with a propriety in scenery and costume which is seldom exceeded even in our great theatres.

Indeed, in three seasons, Mr Wallack has done much to improve the national taste; and from his exertions, the theatres in general in America may be said to have been much benefited. But there is one objection to this rivalry between the Park and National; which is, that the stars go out too fast, and they will soon be all expended. Formerly things went on very regularly: Mr Price sent out to Mr Simpson, duly invoiced, a certain portion of talent for every season; and Mr Simpson, who is a very clever manager, first worked it up at New York, and then dispatched it to Boston, Philadelphia, and the other theatres in the Union. But, now, if Mr Simpson has two stars sent to him, James Wallack comes home, and takes out three; whereupon, Mr Price sends out a bigger star; and so they go on; working up the stars so fast, that the supply will never equal the demand. There are not more than two or three actors of eminence in England, who have not already made their appearance on the American boards; and next season will probably use them up. It is true, that some actors can return there again and again; as Power, who is most deservedly a favourite with them, and Ellen Tree, who is equally so. Celeste has realised a large fortune. Mrs Wood, and the Keeleys, were also very great favourites; but there are not many actors who can venture there a second time; at least, not until a certain interval has elapsed for the Americans to forget them. When there are no longer any stars, the theatres will not be so well attended; as, indeed, is the case every where. To prove how fond the Americans are of anything that excites them, I will mention a representation which I one day went to see—that of the "Infernal Regions." There were two or three of these shewn in the different cities in the States. I saw the remnants of another, myself; but, as the museum-keeper very appropriately observed to me, "It was a fine thing once, but now it had all gone to hell." You entered a dark room; where, railed off with iron railings, you beheld a long perspective of caverns in the interior of the earth, and a molten lake in the distance. In the foreground were the most horrible monsters that could be invented—bears with men's heads, growling—snakes darting in and out, hissing—here a man lying murdered, with a knife in his heart; there—a suicide, hanging by the neck—skeletons lying about in all directions, and some walking up and down in muslin shrouds. The machinery was very perfect. At one side was the figure of a man sitting down, with a horrible face; boar's tusks protruding from his mouth, his eyes rolling, and horns on his head; I thought it was mechanism as well as the rest; and was not a little surprised when it addressed me in a hollow voice: "We've been waiting some time for you, captain." As I found he had a tongue, I entered into conversation with him. The representation wound up with showers of fire, rattling of bones, thunder, screams, and a regular cascade of the d—-d, pouring into the molten lake. When it was first shewn, they had an electric battery communicating with the iron railing; and whoever put his hand on it, or went too near, received a smart electric shock. But the alarm created by this addition was found to be attended with serious consequences, and it had been discontinued.

The love of excitement must of course produce a love of gambling, which may be considered as one of the American amusements: it is, however, carried on very quietly in the cities. In the South, and on the Mississippi, it is as open as the noon day; and the gamblers may be said to have there become a professional people. I have already mentioned them, and the attempts which have been made to get rid of them. Indeed, they are not only gamesters who practice on the unwary, but they combine with gambling the professions of forgery, and uttering of base money. If they lose, they only lose forged notes. There is no part of the world where forgery is carried on to such an extent as it is in the United States; chiefly in the Western country. The American banks are particularly careful to guard against this evil, but the ingenuity of these miscreants is surprising, and they will imitate so closely as almost to escape detection at the banks themselves. Bank-note engraving is certainly carried to the highest state of perfection in the United States, but almost in vain. I have myself read a notice, posted up at Boston, which may appear strange to us. "Bank notes made here to any pattern." But the Eastern banks are seldom forged upon. Counterfeit money is also very plentiful. When I was in the West, I had occasion to pay a few dollars to a friend: when I saw him a day or two afterwards, he said to me, "Do you know that three dollars you gave me were counterfeits?" I apologised, and offered to replace them, "Oh! no," replied he; "it's of no consequence. I gave them in payment to my people, who told me that they were counterfeit; but they said it was of no consequence, as they could easily pass them." In some of the States lotteries have been abolished, in others they are still permitted. They are upon the French principle, and are very popular.

There is one very remarkable point in the American character, which is, that they constantly change their professions. I know not whether it proceeds simply from their love of change, or from their embracing professions at so early a period, that they have not discovered the line in which from natural talents they are best calculated to succeed. I have heard it said, that it is seldom that an American succeeds in the profession which he had first taken up at the commencement of his career. An American will set up as a lawyer; quit, and go to sea for a year or two; come back, set up in another profession; get tired again, go as clerk or steward in a steam-boat, merely because he wishes to travel; then apply himself to something else, and begin to amass money. It is of very little consequence what he does, the American is really a jack of all trades, and master of any to which he feels at last inclined to apply himself.

In Mrs Butler's clever journal there is one remark which really surprised me. She says, "The absolute absence of imagination is of course the absolute absence of humour. An American can no more understand a fanciful jest than a poetical idea; and in society and conversation the strictest matter of fact prevails," etcetera.

If there was nothing but "matter of fact" in society and conversation in America or elsewhere, I imagine that there would not be many words used: but I refer to the passage, because she says that the Americans are not imaginative; whereas, I think that there is not a more imaginative people existing. It is true that they prefer broad humour, and delight in the hyperbole, but this is to be expected in a young nation; especially as their education is, generally speaking, not of a kind to make them sensible to very refined wit, which, I acknowledge, is thrown away upon the majority. What is termed the under current of humour, as delicate raillery, for instance, is certainly not understood. When they read Sam Slick, they did not perceive that the author was laughing at them; and the letters of Major Jack Downing are much more appreciated in this country than they are in America. But as for saying that they are not imaginative, is a great error, and I have no doubt that Mrs B has discovered it by this time.

Miss Martineau says, and very truly, "The Americans appear to me an eminently imaginative people." Indeed, it is only necessary to read the newspapers to be convinced it is the case. The hyperbole is their principal forte, but what is lying but imagination? and why do you find that a child of promising talent is so prone to lying? because it is the first effort of a strong imagination. Wit requires refinement, which the Americans have not; but they have excessive humour, although it is generally speaking coarse.

An American, talking of an ugly woman with a very large mouth, said to me, "Why, sir, when she yawns, you can see right down to her garters;" and another, speaking of his being very sea-sick, declared, "That he threw every thing up, down to his knee-pans."

If there required any proof of the dishonest feeling so prevalent in the United States arising from the desire of gain, it would be in the fact, that almost every good story which you hear of an American is an instance of great ingenuity, and very little principle. So many have been told already, that I hesitate to illustrate my observation, from fear of being accused of uttering stale jokes. Nevertheless I will venture upon one or two.

"An American (Down East, of course), when his father died, found his patrimony to consist of several hundred dozen of boxes of ointment for the cure of a certain complaint, said (by us) to be more common in the North than in England. He made up his pack, and took a round of nearly a hundred miles, going from town to town and from village to village, offering his remedy for sale. But unfortunately for him no one was afflicted with the complaint, and they would not purchase on the chance of any future occasion for it. He returned back to his inn, and having reflected a little, he went out, inquired where he could find the disease, and having succeeded, inoculated himself with it. When he was convinced that he had it with sufficient virulence, he again set forth making the same round; and taking advantage of the American custom which is so prevalent, he shook hands with everybody whom he had spoken to on his former visit, declaring he was ''tarnal glad to see them again.' Thus he went on till his circuit was completed, when he repaired to the first town again, and found that his ointment, as he expected, was now in great request; and he continued his route as before, selling every box that he possessed."

There is a story of a Yankee clock-maker's ingenuity, that I have not seen in print. He also "made a circuit, having a hundred clocks when he started; they were all very bad, which he well knew; but by 'soft sawder and human natur,' as Sam Slick says, he contrived to sell ninety-nine of them, and reserve the last for his intended 'ruse.' He went to the house where he had sold the first clock, and said, 'Well, now, how does your clock go? very well, I guess.' The answer was as he anticipated, 'No, very bad.' 'Indeed! Well, now, I've found it out at last. You see, I had one clock which was I know a bad one, and I said to my boy, "you'll put that clock aside, for it won't do to sell such an article." Well, the boy didn't mind, and left the clock with the others; and I found out afterwards that it had been sold somewhere. Mighty mad I was, I can tell you, for I'm not a little particular about my credit; so I have asked here and there, everywhere almost, how my clocks went, and they all said that "they actually regulated the sun." But I was determined to find out who had the bad clock, and I am most particular glad that I have done it at last. Now, you see I have but one clock left, a very superior article, worth a matter of ten dollars more than the others, and I must give it you in change, and I'll only charge you five dollars difference, as you have been annoyed with the bad article.' The man who had the bad clock thought it better to pay five dollars more to have a good one; so the exchange was made, and then the Yankee, proceeding with the clock, returned to the next house. 'Well, now, how does your clock go? very well, I guess.' The same answer—the same story repeated—and another five dollars received in exchange. And thus did he go round, exchanging clock for clock, until he had received an extra five dollars for every one which he had sold."

Logic.—"A Yankee went into the bar of an inn in a country town: 'Pray what's the price of a pint of shrub?' 'Half a dollar,' was the reply of the man at the bar. 'Well, then, give it me.' The shrub was poured out, when the bell rang for dinner. 'Is that your dinner-bell?' 'Yes.' 'What may you charge for dinner?' 'Half a dollar.' 'Well, then, I think I had better not take the shrub, but have some dinner instead.' This was consented to. The Yankee went in, sat down to his dinner, and when it was over, was going out of the door without paying. 'Massa,' said the negro waiter, 'you not paid for your dinner.' 'I know that; I took the dinner instead of the shrub.' 'But, massa, you not pay for the shrub.' 'Well, I did not have the shrub, did I, you nigger?' said the Yankee, walking away. The negro scratched his head; he knew that something was wrong, as he had got no money; but he could not make it out till the Yankee was out of sight."

I do not think that democracy is marked upon the features of the lower classes in the United States; there is no arrogant bearing in them, as might be supposed from the despotism of the majority; on the contrary, I should say that their lower classes are much more civil than our own. I had a slap of equality on my first landing at New York. I had hired a truck-man to take up my luggage from the wharf; I went a-head, and missed him when I came to the corner of the street where I had engaged apartments, and was looking round for him in one direction, when I was saluted with a slap on the shoulder, which was certainly given with good-will. I turned, and beheld my carman, who had taken the liberty to draw my attention in this forcible manner. He was a man of few words; he pointed to his truck where it stood with the baggage, and then went on.

This civil bearing is peculiar, as when they are excited by politics, or other causes, they are most insolent and overbearing. In his usual demeanour, the citizen born is quiet and obliging. The insolence you meet with is chiefly from the emigrant classes. I have before observed, that the Americans are a good-tempered people; and to this good temper I ascribe their civil bearing. But why are they good-tempered? It appears to me to be one of the few virtues springing from democracy. When the grades of society are distinct, as they are in the older institutions, when difference of rank is acknowledged and submitted to without murmur, it is evident that if people are obliged to control their tempers in presence of their superiors or equals, they can also yield to them with their inferiors; and it is this yielding to our tempers which enables them to master us. But under institutions where all are equal, where no one admits the superiority of another, even if he really be so, where the man with the spade in his hand will beard the millionaire, and where you are compelled to submit to the caprice and insolence of a domestic, or lose his services, it is evident that every man must from boyhood have learnt to control his temper, as no ebullition will be submitted to, or unfollowed by its consequences. I consider that it is this habitual control, forced upon the Americans by the nature of their institutions, which occasions them to be so good-tempered, when not in a state of excitement. The Americans are in one point, as a mob, very much like the English; make them laugh, and they forget all their animosity immediately.

One of the most singular points about the lower classes in America is, that they will call themselves ladies and gentlemen, and yet refuse their titles to their superiors. Miss Martineau mentions one circumstance, of which I very often met with similar instances. "I once was with a gentleman who was building a large house; he went to see how the men were getting on; but they had all disappeared but one. 'Where are the people?' inquired he. 'The gentlemen be all gone to liquor,' was the reply."

I bought one of the small newspapers just as I was setting off in a steam-boat from New York to Albany. The boy had no change, and went to fetch it. He did not come back himself, but another party made his appearance. "Are you the man who bought the newspaper?" "Yes," replied I. "The young gentleman who sold it to you has sent me to pay you four cents."

A gentleman was travelling with his wife, they had stopped at an inn, and during the gentleman's momentary absence the lady was taken ill. The lady wishing for her husband, a man very good-naturedly went to find him, and when he had succeeded he addressed him, "I say, Mister, your woman wants you; but I telled the young lady of the house to fetch her a glass of water."

There was no insolence intended in this; it is a peculiarity to be accounted for by their love of title and distinction.

It is singular to observe human nature peeping out in the Americans, and how tacitly they acknowledge by their conduct how uncomfortable a feeling there is in perfect equality. The respect they pay to a title is much greater than that which is paid to it in England; and naturally so; we set a higher value upon that which we cannot obtain. I have been often amused at the variance on this point between their words and their feelings, which is shewn in their eagerness for rank of some sort among themselves. Every man who has served in the militia carries his title until the day of his death. There is no end to generals, and colonels, and judges; they keep taverns and grog shops, especially in the Western State; indeed, there are very few who have not brevet rank of some kind; and I being only a captain, was looked upon as a very small personage, as far as rank went. An Englishman, who was living in the State of New York, had sent to have the chimney of his house raised. The morning afterwards he saw a labourer mixing mortar before the door. "Well," said the Englishman, "when is the chimney to be finished?" "I'm sure I don't know, you had better ask the colonel." "The colonel? What colonel?" "Why, I reckon that's the colonel upon the top of the house, working away at the chimney."

After all, this fondness for rank, even in a democracy, is very natural, and the Americans have a precedent for it. His Satanic Majesty was the first democrat in heaven, but as soon as he was dismissed to his abode below, if Milton be correct, he assumed his title.



VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SIX.

ARISTOCRACY.

If the Americans should imagine that I have any pleasure in writing the contents of this chapter they will be mistaken; I have considered well the duty of and pondered over it. I would not libel an individual, much less a whole nation; but I must speak the truth, and upon due examination, and calling to my mind all that I have collected from observation and otherwise, I consider that at this present time the standard of morality is lower in America than in any other portion of the civilised globe. I say at this present time, for it was not so even twenty years ago, and possibly may not be so twenty years hence. There is a change constantly going on in every thing below, and I believe, for many reasons, that a change for the better will soon take place in America. There are even now many thousands of virtuous, honourable, and enlightened people in the United States, but at present virtue is passive, while vice is active.

The Americans possess courage, presence of mind, perseverance, and energy, but these may be considered rather as endowments than as virtues. They are propelling powers which will advance them as a people, and, were they regulated and tempered by religious and moral feeling, would make them great and good, but without these adjuncts they can only become great and vicious.

I have observed in my preface that the virtues and vices of a nation are to be traced to the form of government, the climate, and circumstances, and it will be easy to shew that to the above may be ascribed much of the merit as well as the demerits of the people of the United States.

In the first place, I consider the example set by the government as most injurious: as I shall hereafter prove, it is insatiable in its ambition, regardless of its faith, and corrupt to the highest degree. This example I consider as the first cause of the demoralisation of the Americans. The errors incident to the voluntary system of religion are the second: the power of the clergy is destroyed, and the tyranny of the laity has produced the effect of the outward form having been substituted for the real feeling, and hypocrisy has been but too often substituted for religion.

To the evil of bad example from the government is superadded the natural tendency of a democratic form of government, to excite ambition without having the power to gratify it morally or virtuously; and the debasing influence of the pursuit of gain is everywhere apparent. It shews itself in the fact that money is in America everything, and everything else nothing; it is the only sure possession, for character can at any time be taken from you, and therefore becomes less valuable than in other countries, except so far as mercantile transactions are concerned. Mr Cooper says—not once, but many times—that in America all the local affections, indeed everything, is sacrificed to the spirit of gain. Dr Charming constantly laments it, and he very truly asserts, "A people that deems the possession of riches its highest source of distinction, admits one of the most degrading of all influences to preside over its opinions. At no time should money be ever ranked as more than a means, and he who lives as if the acquisition of property were the sole end of his existence, betrays the dominion of the most sordid, base, and grovelling motive that life offers;" and ascribing it to the institutions, he says, "In one respect our institutions have disappointed us all: they have not wrought out for us that elevation of character which is the most precious, and, in truth, the only substantial blessing of liberty."

I have before observed, that whatever society permits, men will do and not consider to be wrong, and if the government considers a breach of trust towards it as not of any importance, and defaulters are permitted to escape, it will of course become no crime in the eyes of the majority. Mr Cooper observes, "An evident dishonesty of sentiment pervades the public itself, which is beginning to regard acts of private delinquency with a dangerous indifference; acts too that are inseparably connected with the character, security, and right administration of the state."

Such is unfortunately the case at present; it may be said to have commenced with the Jackson dynasty, and it is but a few years since this dreadful demoralisation has become so apparent and so shamelessly avowed. In another work the American author above quoted observes,—"We see the effects of this baneful influence in the openness and audacity with which men avow improper motives and improper acts, trusting to find support in a popular feeling, for while vicious influences are perhaps more admitted in other countries than in America, in none are they so openly avowed." Surely there is sufficient of American authority to satisfy any reader that I am not guilty of exaggeration in my remarks. Nor am I the only traveller who has observed upon what is indeed most evident and palpable. Captain Hamilton says, "I have heard conduct praised in conversation at a public table, which, in England, would be attended, if not with a voyage to Botany Bay, at least with total loss of character. It is impossible to pass an hour in the bar of the hotel, without struck with the tone of callous selfishness which pervades the conversation, and the absence of all pretension to pure and lofty principle."

It may indeed be fairly said, that nothing is disgraceful with the majority in America, which the law cannot lay hold of. [See Note 1.] You are either in or out of the Penitentiary: if once in, you are lost for ever, but keep out and you are as good as your neighbour. Now one thing is certain, that where honesty is absolutely necessary, honesty is to be found, as for example among the New York merchants, who are, as a body, highly honourable men. When, therefore, the Americans will have moral courage sufficient to drive away vice, and not allow virtue to be in bondage, as she at present is, the morals of society will be instantly restored—and how and when will this be effected? I have said that the people of time United States, at the time of the Declaration of Independence, were perhaps the most moral people existing, and I now assert that they are the least so; to what cause can this change be ascribed? Certainly not wholly to the spirit of gain, for it exists every where, although perhaps nowhere so strongly developed as it is under a form of government which admits of no other claim to superiority. I consider that it arises from the total extinction, or if not extinction absolute bondage, of the aristocracy of the country, both politically as well as socially. There was an aristocracy at the time of the Independence—not an aristocracy of title, but a much superior one; an aristocracy of great, powerful, and leading men, who were looked up to and imitated; there was, politically speaking, an aristocracy in the senate which was elected by those who were then independent of the popular will; but although a portion of it remains, it may be said to have been almost altogether smothered, and in society it no longer exists. It is the want of this aristocracy that has so lowered the standard of morals in America, and it is the revival of it that must restore to the people of the United States the morality they have lost. The loss of the aristocracy has sunk the Republic into a democracy—the renewal of it will again restore them to their former condition. Let not the Americans start at this idea. An aristocracy is not only not incompatible, but absolutely necessary for the duration of a democratic form of government. It is the third estate, so necessary to preserve the balance of power between the executive and the people, and which has unfortunately disappeared. An aristocracy is as necessary for the morals as for the government of a nation. Society must have a head to lead it, and without that head there will be no fixed standard of morality, and things must remain in the chaotic state in which they are at present.

Some author has described the English nation as resembling their own beer-froth at the top, dregs at the bottom, and in the middle excellent. There is point in this observation, and it has been received without criticism, and quoted without contradiction: but it is in itself false; it may be said that the facts are directly the reverse, there being more morality among the lower class than in the middling, and still more in the higher than in the lower. We have been designated as a nation of shopkeepers, a term certainly more applicable to the Americans, where all are engaged in commerce and the pursuit of gain, and who have no distinctions or hereditary titles. Trade demoralises; there are so many petty arts and frauds necessary to be resorted to by every class in trade, to enable them to compete with each other; so many lies told, as a matter of business, to tempt a purchaser, that almost insensibly and by degrees the shopkeeper becomes dishonest. These demoralising practices must be resorted to, even by those who would fain avoid them, or they have no chance of competing with their rivals in business. It is not the honest tradesman who makes a rapid fortune; indeed, it is doubtful whether he could carry on his business; and yet, from assuetude and not being taxed with dishonesty, the shopkeeper scarcely ever feels that he is dishonest. Now, this is the worst state of demoralisation, where you are blind to your errors and conscience is never awakened, and in this state may be considered, with few exceptions, every class of traders, whether in England, America, or elsewhere.

Among the lower classes, the morals of the manufacturing districts, and of the frequenters of cities, will naturally be at a low ebb, for men when closely packed demoralise each other; but if we examine the agricultural classes, which are by far the most numerous, we shall find that there is much virtue and goodness in the humble cottage; we shall there find piety and resignation, honesty, industry, and content, more universal than would be imagined, and the Bible pored over, instead of the day-book or ledger.

But it is by the higher classes of the English nation, by the nobility and gentry of England, that the high tone of virtue and morality is upheld. Foreigners, especially Americans, are too continually pointing out, and with evident satisfaction, the scandal arising from the conduct of some few individuals in these classes as a proof of the conduct of the whole; but they mistake the exceptions for the rule. If they were to pay attention, they would perceive that these accusations are only confined to some few out of a class comprehending many many thousands in our wealthy isle, and that the very circumstance of their rank being no shield against the attacks made upon them, is a proof that they are exceptions, whose conduct is universally held up to public ridicule or indignation. A crim. con. in English high life is exulted over by the Americans; they point to it, and exclaim, "See what your aristocracy are!" forgetting that the crime is committed by one out of thousands, and that it meets with the disgrace which it deserves, and that this crime is, to a certain degree, encouraged by our laws relative to divorce. Do the Americans imagine that there is no crim. con. perpetrated in the United States? many instances of suspicion, and some of actual discovery, came to my knowledge even during my short residence there, but they were invariably, and perhaps judiciously, hushed up, for the sake of the families and the national credit. I do not wish, nor would it be possible, to draw any parallel between the two nations on this point; I shall only observe that in England we have not considered the vice to have become so prevalent as to think it necessary to form societies for the prevention of it, as they have done in the United States.

It has been acknowledged by other nations, and I believe it to be true, that the nobility and gentry of England are the most moral, most religious, and most honourable classes that can be found not only in our country, but in any other country in the world, and such they certainly ought from circumstances to be.

Possessed of competence, they have no incentives to behave dishonestly. They are well-educated, the finest race of men and women that can be produced, and the men are brought up to athletic and healthy amusements. They have to support the honour of an ancient family, and to hand down the name untarnished to their posterity. They have every inducement to noble deeds, and are, generally speaking, above the necessities which induce men to go wrong. If the Americans would assert that luxury produces vice, I can only say that luxury infers idleness and inactivity, and on this point the women of the aristocracy in this country have the advantage over the American women, who cannot, from the peculiarity of the climate, take time exercise so universally resorted to by our higher classes. I admit that some go wrong, but is error confined to the nobility alone; are there no spendthrifts, no dissolute young men, or ill brought up young women, among other classes? Are there none in America? Moreover, there are some descriptions of vice which are meaner than others and more debasing to the mind, and it is among the middling and lower classes that these vices are principally to be found.

The higher classes invariably take the lead, and give the tone to society. If the court be moral, so are the morals of the nation improved by example, as in the time of George the Third. If the court be dissolute, as in the time of Charles the Second, the nation will plunge into vice. Now, in America there is no one to take the lead; morals, like religion, are the concern of nobody, and therefore it is that the standard of morality is so low. I have heard it argued that allowing one party to have a very low standard of morality and to act up to that standard, and another to have a high standard of morality and not to act up to it, that the former is the really moral man, as he does act up to his principles such as they are. This may hold good when we examine into the virtues and vices of nations: that the American Indian who acts up to his own code and belief, both in morality and religion, may be more worthy than a Christian who neglects his duty, may be true; but the question now is upon the respective morality of two enlightened nations, both Christian and having the Bible as their guide—between those who have neither of them any pretence to lower the standard of morality, as they both know better. M. Tocqueville observes, speaking of the difference between aristocratical and democratical governments—"In aristocratic governments the individuals who are placed at the head of affairs are rich men, who are solely desirous of power. In democracies statesmen are poor, and they have their fortunes to make. The consequence is, that in aristocratic States the rulers are rarely accessible to corruption, and have very little craving for money; whilst the reverse is the case in democratic nations."

This is true, and may be fairly applied to the American democracy: as long as you will not allow the good and enlightened to rule, you will be governed by those who will flatter and cheat you, and demoralise society. When you allow your aristocracy to take the reins, you will be better governed, and your morals will improve by example. What is the situation of America at present? the aristocracy of the country are either in retirement or have migrated, and if the power of the majority should continue as it now does its despotic rule, you will have still farther emigration. At present there are many hundreds of Americans who have retired to the Old Continent, that they may receive that return for their wealth which they cannot in their own country; and if not flattered, they are at least not insulted and degraded.

Mr Sanderson, in his "Sketches from Paris," says—"The American society at Paris, taken altogether, is of a good composition. It consists of several hundred persons, of families of fortune, and young men of liberal instruction. Here are lords of cotton from Carolina, and of sugar-cane from the Mississippi, millionaires from all the Canadas, and pursers from all the navies; and their social qualities, from a sense of mutual dependence or partnership in absence, or some such causes, are more active abroad than at home.

"They form a little republic apart, and when a stranger arrives he finds himself at home; he finds himself also under the censorial inspection of a public opinion, a salutary restraint not always the luck of those who travel into foreign countries. One thing only is to be blamed: it becomes every day more the fashion for the elite of our cities to settle themselves here permanently. We cannot but deplore this exportation of the precious metals, since our country is drained of what the supply is not too abundant. They who have resided here a few years, having fortune and leisure, do not choose, as I perceive, to reside anywhere else."

This is the fact; and as the wealth of America increases every day, so will those who possess it swarm off as fast as they can to other countries, if there is not a change in the present society, and a return to something like order and rank. Who would remain in a country where there is no freedom of thought or action, and where you cannot even spend your money as you please? Mr Butler the other day built a house at Philadelphia with a porte-cochere, and the consequence was that they called him an aristocrat, and would not vote for him. In short, will enlightened and refined people live to be dictated to by a savage and ignorant majority, who will neither allow your character nor your domestic privacy to be safe!

The Americans, in their fear of their institutions giving way, and their careful guard against any encroachments upon the liberty of the people, have fallen into the error of sacrificing the most virtuous portion of the community, and driving a large portion of them out of the country. This will eventually be found to be a serious evil; absenteeism will daily increase, and will be as sorely felt as it is in Ireland at the present hour. The Americans used to tell me with exultation, that they never could have an Aristocracy in their country, from the law of entail having been abolished. They often asserted, and with some truth, that in that country property never accumulated beyond two generations, and that the grandson of a millionaire was invariably a pauper. This they ascribe to the working of their institutions, and argue that it will always be impossible for any family to be raised above the mass by a descent of property. Now the very circumstance of this having been invariably the case, induces me to look for the real cause of it, as there is none to be found in their institutions why all the grandsons of millionaires should be paupers. It is not owing to their institutions, but to moral causes, which, although they have existed until now, will not exist for ever. In the principal and wealthiest cities in the Union, it is difficult to spend more than twelve or fifteen thousand dollars per annum, as with such an expenditure you are on a par with the highest, and you can be no more. What is the consequence? a young American succeeds to fifty or sixty thousand dollars a year, the surplus is useless to him; there is no one to vie with—no one who can reciprocate—he must stand alone. He naturally feels careless about what he finds to be of no use to him. Again, all his friends and acquaintances are actively employed during the whole of the day in their several occupations; he is a man of leisure, and must either remain alone or associate with other men of leisure; and who are the majority of men of leisure in the towns of the United States? Blacklegs of genteel exterior and fashionable appearance, with whom he associates, into whose snares he falls, and to whom he eventually loses property about which he is indifferent. To be an idle man when every body else is busy, is not only a great unhappiness, but a situation of great peril. Had the sons of millionaires, who remained in the States and left their children paupers, come over to the old Continent, as many have done, they would have stood a better chance of retaining their property.

All I can say is, that if they cannot have an aristocracy, the worse for them; I am not of the opinion, that they will not have one, although they are supported by the strong authority of M. Tocqueville, who says—"I do not think a single people can be quoted, since human society began to exist, which has, by its own free-will and by its own exertions, created an aristocracy within its own bosom. All the aristocracies of the Middle Ages were founded by military conquest: the conqueror was the noble, the vanquished became the serf. Inequality was then imposed by force; and after it had been introduced into the manners of the country, it maintained its own authority, and was sanctioned by the legislation. Communities have existed which were aristocratic from their earliest origin, owing to circumstances anterior to that event, and which became more democratic in each succeeding age. Such was the destiny of the Romans, and of the barbarians after them. But a people, having taken its rise in civilisation and democracy, which should gradually establish an inequality of conditions, until it arrived at inviolable privileges and exclusive castes, would be a novelty in the world and nothing intimates that America is likely to furnish so singular an example."

I grant that no single people has by its own free-will created an aristocracy, but circumstances will make one in spite of the people; and if there is no aristocracy who have power to check, a despotism may be the evil arising from the want of it. At present America is thinly peopled, but let them look forward to the time when the population shall become denser; what will then be the effect? why a division between the rich and the poor will naturally take place; and what is that but the foundation if not the formation of an aristocracy. An American cannot entail his estate, but he can leave the whole of it to his eldest son if he pleases; and in a few years, the lands which have been purchased for a trifle, will become the foundation of noble fortunes [see Note 2] but even now their law of non-entail does not work as they would wish.