“Oh! I understand you: you wish me to publish it for you; that’s more than I can promise to do without seeing the manuscript.”
“But you may omit what you do not like, or soften down what is likely to give offence.”
“That you know is useless. The Americans do not like to be spoken of in any way. They are so thin-skinned as not even to bear praise; they take it for irony.”
“I know it. Our first people are like the Venetian senators, who would not allow the government to be praised; because, if one man bestowed praise, another might be guilty of censure. There is no knowing where matters will end when once in the mouth of the people.”
“All this ought to put me the more on my guard: yet, out of friendship for you, I will make myself a martyr. If you had the courage to write the truth, I will have the boldness to publish it.”
“Bravo!” cried my friend, embracing me in a Continental manner, “I see you are a real German; and, if ever I inherit——”
“Pray don’t mention it. It will be as much as you can do to pay your wife’s mantua-maker. You cannot count your father-in-law’s money until after his death. There are bank liabilities, insurance liabilities, and Heaven knows what other mercantile and private liabilities! Just give me the manuscript, and trust the rest to my affection.”
“You are too kind—too generous!” cried he; “but I must, nevertheless, give you a few hints. I think you had better omit the account of my flirtations entirely. It is not in good taste. All such things are necessarily insipid; and, if Mrs. K—pfsch—rtz should by accident learn——”
“She would never forgive you.”
“It is not that I am most afraid of; but my father-in-law, and the public——. Besides, my flirtations, as is always the case in the United States, ended in a most sensible manner, and on that account are not likely to interest an European reader. The first lady sent me word by her servant not to trouble myself with writing her any more letters, as she was determined to send them back unopened. The second gave me a verbal warning in these terms:—‘I am sorry you should be in love with me, because papa and mamma think it all nonsense; I do not say this to hurt your feelings, but merely to prevent you from taking any unnecessary steps in the matter. I shall, nevertheless, be always happy to see you as a friend.’ And the third ended in the most legitimate manner,—in my marriage. I think my sketches of fashionable parties, and in general of the character and principles of our ‘first society,’ are much more likely to give satisfaction: only soften them down a little for the sake of Judge Lynch: it would break my heart to see you tarred and feathered. As regards my account of American statesmen and politicians, you must calculate your chances of a duel. A Southerner will fight three times as quick as a Northerner; but the Northerner will never forgive you. Be careful how you repeat what I have said about parsons; they have more power in the United States than in any other country. They have the power of breaking any man they please; for they possess the most complete control over the women. I have, in this respect, always been of Jean Paul Richter’s opinion, who despised ‘the pater-noster globule of piety,’ as much as ‘the empty bubbles of worldly prudence.’ But you know my religious sentiments, and are best able to judge whether I deserve the name of a Christian. If I have sometimes been severe upon Unitarianism and Dr. Channing, it is because I hate cant in any shape, and would oppose any man that would constitute himself moral pope of the community. The Bostonians, who, according to their own confession, are a ‘people full of notions,’ are always ready to deify a man that ‘captivates their fancy;’ and accordingly have within the narrow confines of their city a whole Olympus of gods and goddesses, of which the reverend Socinian is the Jupiter tonans. But you will best know how to manage these matters: only one thing,—forgive the vanity of an author!—you must promise me as a conditio sine quâ non.”