“For this we can the less blame them, as many of our most distinguished statesmen and politicians take precisely the same view of our institutions; referring them constantly to the British model, and considering nothing as legitimate which cannot be directly traced to, or deduced from, a similar institution in Great Britain. If you believe them, no other people but the English are born with a political understanding or forecast: why then should the English, who come here, not apply the same doctrines also to the Americans? and why should they not, occasionally, join our own fashionable people in depreciating the advantages of our government, and speak disrespectfully of those whom ourselves are accustomed to treat with so little ceremony?
“When the English, who come here to live among us, declare our government a mere experiment, and our institutions destructive to the ends of society, they re-echo but the sentiments of our first people, whom they are obliged to imitate if they wish to be considered fashionable; for, believe me, an Englishman who would praise our government, and who in consequence would be suspected of Radicalism, would be infinitely less popular in Boston than one who, by abusing us, proves himself to have belonged to the fashionable school of politics in his own country.
“The great evil of our society consists in its being constantly acted upon by two entirely heterogeneous principles,—the democratic institutions of the country impelling our people one way, while the aristocratic aspirings of the upper classes communicate to them an impulse in the opposite direction. The resulting motion, therefore, is neither straight forward, nor directly ascending; but a sort of compromising diagonal, which in the inimitable language of our people is characteristically called ‘slantendicular.’
“This is the great historical origin of the doctrine of double motives which sways our best society; and which is, perhaps, the principal cause of all the incongruities, contradictions, and downright absurdities for which we have been ridiculed by Europeans. I, for my own part, tell you frankly that I dislike in the extreme the ‘slantendicular’ conduct of certain classes. I prefer a downright aristocracy with avowed motives and principles, to a jesuitical nobility of ‘influential citizens.’ You must respect the perseverance and iron consequence of a Duke of Wellington; but you cannot but despise the cringing pride of our Tory politicians. If we are doomed to have artificial distinctions,—if we must have an aristocracy after the model of that of Europe,—let us, for mercy’s sake! import it ready made; the gradual process of growing it ourselves is too tedious, and the minute details too disgusting, not to put the best of us out of humour.
“I never want to see an aristocrat until he is ready to put on white gloves; our ‘ungloved,’ ‘unwashed’ aristocrats are to me an object of horror. No tyranny is more odious than that of an overgrown bourgeoisie. Being less removed from the lower classes, their tyranny is more felt; and not being placed sufficiently above competition, they are incapable of taking any lofty, disinterested views with regard to the government of the people, whom they half fear and half despise. These faults, at least, are among those which are seldom to be found in an hereditary aristocracy, until it becomes reduced to a position in which it is obliged to enter with the people on a contest for power.
“Having told you so much about our ‘first people,’” said my cicerone, taking a bottle from his closet, and filling two glasses with I do not now remember what, “I will, as a pendant to them, relate to you an anecdote which will throw some light also on our second society. Only let us drink fast, and let me soon remove the glasses; I should not like my servants to know that I am in a habit of taking a thing of this kind. There is no use in making one’s self unpopular, you know.
“The town of Boston,” he commenced, “if it were not already remarkable as the ‘cradle of liberty,’ and the place where the first American tea-party was given, would long ago have become so by the hospitality and convivial talents of its inhabitants.
“At the South-end of the town, at the very spot where General Washington raised a fort from which he forced the departure of the British army, stands now, not a monument to commemorate the deed, but an excellent hotel, where a man may get the best things in the shape of viands and wines, if he be willing to pay for them. To this place, called ‘Mount Washington Hotel,’ many an excellent family, probably out of patriotism, retires in the summer, not only to enjoy the sea-breeze, and to escape from the noise of the town, but also in order to be able to say that they have spent the summer at a watering-place; New Port, Longbranch, and Saratoga Springs being much more expensive, and society too exclusive to enable people of moderate fortune to participate in the entertainments of the season. The Washington Hotel, therefore, is frequented by such gentlemen and ladies as have acquired competency without wealth, respectability without family dating of more than one generation, and a common-place routine of fashion without having had the advantage of a trip to Europe,—in short, by such as in Boston form the second society, and with whom the first society never, even by chance, exchange any kind of civility.
“Notwithstanding these apparent disadvantages,” continued my cicerone, filling himself another glass, “nothing could be prettier than this second society if its members could be made to agree amongst themselves. This, however, is altogether out of the question, owing to the numerous coteries and subdivisions to which it is again subjected. Our second society, namely, has again its first, second, and third rank, each of which is again subdivided into still smaller circles, which are again numbered; so that it requires the nicety of a mathematician to ascertain what sort of company a man is likely to be with when invited to a party. Owing to this trifling circumstance, the members of the second society live with each other somewhat after the manner of cats and dogs; making but too frequently foreigners witnesses of their broils, and affording them, as will appear from my story, occasionally an opportunity of acting the peace-makers.