“Our fashionable men,” continued he, with a sarcastic contraction of his lips, which was his usual substitute for a smile, “are less fortunate. They are not permitted to go to bed when they are tired. Society has claims upon them; they must contribute their share to the entertainment of the evening. Accordingly, they are obliged to wash and dress, put on kid gloves, and prepare, in every other respect, for the sacrifice, to which they are led by their wives like so many sheep to the slaughter-house. Being, as married people, excluded from dancing, and cards being abolished among us, they are obliged to amuse themselves with taking refreshments, which I believe they always do, until, towards ten, a regular supper rewards their patience; after which the majority of the company get into their hacks, swearing that it was a capital entertainment, at which there was plenty to eat, and a great profusion of choice and exquisite wines.
“As regards our women, they are, with the exception of the time consumed at meals, the whole day left to themselves; a circumstance which is not calculated to render their existence a happy one, unless they are blessed with children to break in upon its monotony, and afford fresh scope for their affections. Hence our women love their offspring passionately; while for their husbands they feel a sort of half-distant respect, wholly opposed to that tender familiarity without which it is impossible to penetrate into a woman’s heart.
“In this manner our men are cheated—or rather cheat themselves—out of the poetical part of matrimony; but are also saved from a vast deal of mortification. At any rate, our hard-featured, industrious Yankees, who are accustomed to act from principle, not from impulse,—from conviction, not from inclination,—have shown themselves worthy of living under free institutions, which seem to compensate them for the absence of those pleasures which a higher degree of refinement and an abundance of leisure secure to the higher classes of Europe; and the remark of a celebrated European statesman was, perhaps, a wise one, when he said ‘that a people is fit for liberal institutions in exactly the same proportion as its whole time is employed in satisfying its physical wants.’”
“But how is it possible,” demanded I, “that with all this political liberty, and the constant occupation of all classes of society, you should have become reduced to a degree of social bondage, of which no city in Europe, and scarcely one in Asia, furnishes an example? Remember, I have not yet forgotten the advice you gave me at the concert.”
“All this,” replied he, “is owing to the excessive prudence which pervades our higher society, and which, in reality, makes them believe that no European can fathom them. Our gentlemen are, indeed, not endowed with the faculty of second sight; but they have what they call ‘second thoughts,’ a sort of arrière pensée, which it is not always easy to decipher, and is frequently the whole substitute for profundity or research. Thus they have always two motives for one and the same act,—a public and a private one; and, as many Europeans who come here to study our character are ingenuous enough to consider one motive quite sufficient for each act, it is an even chance they are mistaken, whether they have a view to our private or public motives. If you stay long enough among us, you will hear morality, politics, and even religion advocated from more than one prudent motive. High, exalted views, or enthusiasm for one or the other of these all-important subjects, you will, indeed, meet with occasionally; but, in general, we look upon all such sentiments as unhealthy, feverish, unbecoming a ‘calm,’ ‘sober,’ ‘calculating’ people. We delight in prose, though we frequently talk poetry. Poetry with us is a public consideration, for which reason its place is usually the newspapers. It is food for the multitude; our private motives seldom rise beyond a clear view of our own immediate interests. In the inimitable language of one of our most fashionable young ladies, we admire roast beef, and dote on oyster pies.
“This is in some degree the origin of our cant in morality and religion, which our politicians, when there is no other absorbing topic, such as manufactures, commerce, fisheries, &c. employ for the purpose of ‘making a hit.’ In the absence of enthusiasm, which would inspire them with natural eloquence, they seek to maintain themselves at a certain elevation by pressing hard on lofty topics; having no wings, they endeavour to support themselves in the air by a parachute. Thus the words ‘virtue,’ ‘patriotism,’ ‘morality,’ ‘religion,’ ‘piety,’ are in every one’s mouth. All these terms had originally a distinct meaning attached to them, and to the mass of the people they are still full of import; but, being thus used on the most trifling occasion, they must sooner or later become degraded to mere figures of speech.
“The same holds of our republican manners. You will see many of our public characters wear the garb of humility in the presence of their meanest fellow-citizens; they carry their own portemanteaux when landing from a steam-boat, shake hands with everybody on election day, and, like Hildebrand, assume, when walking or standing, an inclined posture; but let them once be elected, and you will see them draw themselves up to their full height, exclaiming ‘Ego sum papa!’ With all our democratic machinery, our Atlantic cities contain more lingering, pining, ‘aspirants to honourable distinction,’ than perhaps could be found in any equal number of men in Europe.
“Besides,” continued he, “our rich people, who, in the absence of a law of primogeniture, preserve their wealth by marrying cousins,[7] and our young merchants, who become rich by successful speculations, are somewhat tired of their monotonous state of existence. Many of them have been in Europe, where their property has enabled them, occasionally, to associate with the higher orders. They have witnessed the importance attached in civilized countries to rank and fortune, and are therefore, out of pure philanthropy, anxious to introduce the same high degree of civilization in America. ‘Do we not see the world prosper around us?’ asks Mr. Daniel Webster, the great Massachusetts statesman and orator;[8] ‘do we not see OTHER GOVERNMENTS, and OTHER NATIONS, enlightened by experience, and rejecting ARROGANT INNOVATIONS and THEORETIC DREAMS, accomplishing the great ends of society?’
“Now is not this Conservatism with a vengeance! Would an English Tory have dared to make such an avowal before a British parliament? Where would England be, if her born or chosen legislators had looked round for precedents among other nations? What would have become of the United States, if the representatives of the people, in 1776, had held the same language? What better argument can be made in favour of absolute despotism in any country, than that ‘other nations, and other governments, reject arrogant innovations and theoretic dreams? The decree of the Emperor of China against the introduction of Christianity is not more profound in its argument; and yet Mr. Webster is, in this respect, nothing but a plagiary! Arrogant innovations were resisted in China long before the birth of the honourable senator for Massachusetts.
“Such doctrines as these will explain to you, at the same time, the views of our Whigs. Compare them to the principles of Toryism in England, and the conviction will irresistibly be forced upon you that the latter are a thousand times more liberal, and compatible with the freedom of the people. How many measures for the welfare of the English people have emanated from the nobility! But these Whigs, who are just one or two steps removed from the masses, think themselves beset by dogs, and are continually kicking for fear of being bitten.