The day after our arrival in Cincinnati, being the 22nd of February, we obtained, by the aid of Dr. Weed (one of Mr. Boynton's deacons), a suitable private lodging. Dr. Weed in early life studied for the medical profession, and graduated in physic. Afterwards he spent some years as a missionary among the Indians. Now he is a bookseller, publisher, and stationer in Cincinnati, affording an illustration of that versatility for which the Americans are distinguished. "Men are to be met with," says M. de Tocqueville, (and the present writer has himself seen many instances,) "who have successively been barristers, farmers, merchants, ministers of the Gospel, and physicians. If the American be less perfect in each craft than the European, at least there is scarcely any trade with which he is utterly unacquainted." I have heard of a man in New York, who, having tried the ministry and completely failed, wisely judged that that was not the way in which he could best serve God, and turned to commerce. He is now a substantial merchant, and supports five other men to preach the Gospel; each of whom, he is wont to say, does it much better than he could ever have done.
The lodging which Dr. Weed kindly found us was at the house of the Misses M'Pherson, five Quaker sisters, living together. It was clean and respectable,—the cheapest and most comfortable lodging we had hitherto met with. The table was bountifully supplied with excellent and well-cooked provisions; for which the charge was only 4 dollars each per week, and half-a-dollar for fuel, making altogether only 9 dollars for us both. Of the kindness and hospitality of these ladies we shall always retain a grateful remembrance.
In the afternoon I had the honour of being introduced to Dr. Beecher, Dr. Stowe, Professor Allen, and several other Presbyterian ministers of the New School. They were assembled for fraternal intercourse in the vestry of one of the "churches." I was struck with the sallowness of their complexions, and the want of polish in their manners. Dr. Beecher invited me to go up some day to see Lane Seminary, about two miles off. To this invitation I readily acceded. I was greatly interested in this veteran, of whose fame I had so often heard.
February 23rd.—In the evening, I went to a meeting of the Democratic party in the town-hall, thinking it would afford me a good opportunity for observing American manners. The place was full; and when I arrived, a gentleman was addressing the meeting with great vehemence of tone and gesture. His speech consisted of innumerable changes rung on the sentiment—"There must be a vigorous prosecution of the war against Mexico." But I must reserve any further account of this meeting for my next letter.
LETTER XVII.
Stay at Cincinnati (continued)—The Democratic Meeting—A Visit to Lane
Seminary—"Public Declamation"—Poem on War—Essay on Education.
In resuming my notice of the Democratic meeting, let me observe that the Democratic party in America is not very reputable. It is the war party, the pro-slavery party, the mob party, and, at present, the dominant party,—the party, in fine, of President Polk. It had just been aroused to the highest pitch of indignation, by a telling speech delivered in Congress against the Mexican War by Thomas Corwin, Esq., one of the Ohio senators. This meeting, then, was intended as a demonstration in favour of Polk and his policy; but it turned out a miserable failure.
When the blustering speaker who "had the floor" when I entered sat down, the "president" (for they do not say the chairman) rose, amidst a tremendous storm of favourite names, uttered simultaneously by all present at the top of their voices, and, as soon as he could be heard, said it had been moved and seconded that So-and-so, Esq., be requested to address the meeting: those who were in favour of that motion were to say "Ay,"—those against it, "No." One great "Ay" was then uttered by the mass, and a few "Noes" were heard. The "Ayes" had it. But an unforeseen difficulty occurred. So-and-so, Esq., either was not there, or would not speak. Amidst deafening noise again, the president rose, and said it had been moved and seconded that John Brough, Esq., be requested to address the meeting. "Ay"—"No;" but the "Ayes" had it. "Now, John Brough," said a droll-looking Irishman, apparently a hod-carrier, who was at my elbow,—
"Now, John Brough,
Out with the stuff."
Here was Paddy on the western side of the Allegany Mountains, with his native accent and native wit as fresh and unimpaired as if he had but just left his green isle, and landed on one of the quays at Liverpool. But John Brough again declined the honour conferred upon him! Then it was moved and seconded and "ayed" that So-and-so, Esq., be requested to address the meeting, but he also was not forthcoming! Nil desperandum. It was moved and seconded and "ayed" that—Callaghan, Esq., be requested to address the meeting. After some hesitation, and a reference to his own "proverbial modesty," he proceeded to foam, and stamp, and thump, and bluster for "the vigorous prosecution of the war," till the American eagle should "stretch his wings over the halls of the Montezumas." At this stage of the proceedings, the spitting and smoke had become so offensive that I was compelled to retire; and I did so with no very high notions of the intelligence and respectability of the American democrats.