“Why not?” I inquired.
“I have many reasons. One is, the people are not refined enough. I did not encounter as much coarseness during the thirty years I lived in England, as I have in this country the past six months.”
“You have been very unfortunate in the company you have kept. There are coarse people in all countries, and a man can eat and sleep with them all his lifetime if he chooses. But that there are more coarse people in this country than in England, I am sure is an error. But what do you mean by coarseness?”
“I mean that the peasants do not pay proper respect to gentlemen.”
“Yes, yes; I understand you. Why, sir, we have no peasants in this country; all are gentlemen.”
“I abhor such a democratic notion. Only see how rudely your people talk about the President of the United States. He is called Mr. Jackson, Old Jackson, Old Hickory. In Europe, we call the king, His Majesty. Don’t you see the difference?”
“I see the difference. The people of this country have little respect for titles, and I am thankful for it; but they have great respect for man; so much that they deem every man a sovereign; and I hope they will never make such fools of themselves as to single out one of their number, perhaps the biggest gump in the land, and bow down and worship him, and like cringing slaves, call him ‘His Majesty.’ God only is worthy the title of Majesty.”
In the cars near Baltimore, I had some conversation with a lawyer, concerning slavery.
“Are you going South?” he inquired.
“To Maryland. Am from the East, and was never as far south or west before.”