I am disposed to think that they will have very little power to modify the future character of the nation. First, because they are all learning, and must all learn, the English language, which cannot but become their mother tongue. This being the case, they must imbibe the ideas current in America in that language; and so German ideas will fade away and die out of their minds.
Another reason I have for my opinion is, that the conflict is between Germanism and New Englandism; and it is carried on upon what may be regarded as the soil of New England. But New Englandism is a far tougher plant, and one of far more vigorous growth than Germanism, especially when transplanted to another world, very unlike that of the Rhine and of the Danube. For these reasons I believe that the German invasion will be absorbed and lost in America. It will not Germanise the Americans, but will itself be Americanised.
This applies to ideas, not to temperament, which is a matter of blood and nerves; and it is possible that the highly excitable American temperament may be somewhat calmed by the phlegm of Germany. But if this effect be produced, we can hardly expect that it will be lasting, for in time America will change the temperament of the German, just as it has changed the temperament of the Anglo-Saxon.
St. Louis is a large and well-built city of about 280,000 inhabitants. In the year 1836 it was only a French village of about 3,000 souls, almost all of whom were Canadians and Canadian half-breeds. In those days the wild Indian was close upon it. Now the French and the Indians are both alike obliterated, and railways reach between five and six hundred miles beyond it. It contains many churches, some of which are built in very good taste and style. I never saw red brick anywhere else used so pleasingly and effectively in pointed architecture, as in the spire of one of the churches in this city. I was also much struck with a stone church, the tower of which was not yet completed. Each window in the side aisles had a second window over it, in the form of a kind of window head or marigold. The main aisle had clerestory windows. All the windows throughout were filled with stained glass. This fine church belonged to the Episcopal communion. There are six Episcopal congregations in St. Louis. I here became acquainted with a clergyman who had just returned from a long tour through Europe and the East. It was strange, on the west bank of the Mississippi, on a spot where red men had sold their furs, and smoked their pipes, in the memory of the speaker himself, to hear expressed the opinion, ‘that a man of culture and thought had not completed his education till he had seen with his own eyes the scenes in which the great events of man’s past history had been enacted.’
Thoughts from the Mississippi.
While crossing the Mississippi on the ice, I could not hear unmoved the shoals of skaters cheering, and shouting, and talking merrily in good English, just as if it were all on the Serpentine in the Park; and I thought to myself that that small piece of water in the midst of London does not belong more completely to the English race than the Father of Waters himself does now, and must for ever.
CHAPTER XII.
INSTANCE OF AMERICAN KINDLINESS—RED-SKINS AND HALF-BREEDS ON THE RAILS—CINCINNATI AND ITS INHABITANTS—WHAT MAY BE MADE OF PIGS—THE INFLUENCE OF ITS PORK CROP—MACHINERY FOR KILLING AND CURING—IMPROVING EFFECT AMERICAN EQUALITY HAS ON THE HIGHEST AND LOWEST CLASS—CHURCHES ONLY UNPROSAIC BUILDINGS IN AMERICAN TOWNS—SCHOOLS—MERITS OF PHILADELPHIAN STYLE OF CITY-BUILDING NOT OBVIOUS—IN WHAT IT CONSISTS—AMERICA HAS BUT ONE CITY—NO. 24, G STREET, CORNER OF 25TH STREET.
On leaving St. Louis for Cincinnati, I took the evening train, because, as far as Odin, the ground was the same I had lately passed over. On entering the carriage I met with an instance of American kindliness I should be sorry to have to pass unnoticed. When I applied for a sleeping berth, I found that they were all engaged except some on the upper tier. As the heated air accumulates against the roof, these upper berths are generally too warm; besides that, there is some difficulty in getting in and out of them. This difficulty would have been very considerably increased in my case, as I happened just at that time to be obliged to carry my arm in a sling. An American gentleman, and, as I afterwards found, a very well-known man in Chicago, observing this, came up to me, and insisted on my taking his lower berth, and letting him have in exchange my upper one. While at Chicago, I was laid under further obligation to this gentleman, which I must advert to when I reach that place. He was one of those who, during the late war, gave up their business, and left their comfortable houses for the tented field, that they might help to save their country from disruption; and he had had the good fortune to accompany Sherman in his memorable march through the South.
What may be made of Pigs.