“Especially in a town where no man possesses anything he would not sell, provided a proper price be offered him,” added the lawyer.
While we were thus talking, we had reached the mill-dam which leads over to Brooklyne, and from which we enjoyed a truly magnificent view of the panorama of Boston. I observed to my companions that their city was one of the finest in the Union; and that, as far as I might be allowed to judge, it could be made a most delightful residence.
“It was a delightful place,” replied the lawyer; “but our old families are gradually losing their influence. Most of the fine houses you see here are inhabited by roturiers; our society is getting worse and worse every day; and, while we expend thousands for our public schools, we lose our manners.”
“That is a fact,” exclaimed my cicerone; “our young men are not half so polite as the old ones; and, what is worse, the influence of family is entirely lost. Our young ladies, for instance, do not value birth and good breeding half so much as money. They would rather marry a woodcutter, if he had shown himself ‘clever’ in making money, than the son of our oldest gentleman.”
“But pray, gentlemen,” interrupted I, half impatiently, “why cannot you enjoy the many blessings Heaven has bestowed on you, without being continually afraid of losing your dignity? I have heard more talk about aristocracy and family in the United States than during my whole previous life in Europe. You embitter your enjoyments and pleasures by endeavouring to exclude from them all that come after you; and, in doing so, wound the feelings of many an honest man, who, but for a little more urbanity on your part, would be your friend instead of your enemy. A question of interest which is now agitating the country[3] may for a moment unite you; but the union is an unnatural one, and on that account cannot last. Your state of society is such, that, in the ordinary intercourse with your fellow-citizens, you must necessarily offend more than you can gratify; and the mortifications which two-thirds of the whole population are constantly suffering from the small portion distinguished from the rest by nothing but success in business, must add to the natural jealousies felt by the labouring classes of all countries with regard to the rich. The distinction between the different orders of society may be more apparent in England,—as they are, from historical reasons, with all people of Saxon origin; but they are, nevertheless, far less offensive than yours.
“In all countries in which there exists an hereditary, wealthy nobility, there exists a sort of good-will towards the inferior classes which leads to the relation of patron and client, and through which many an apparent injustice is smoothed over by liberality and kindness; but the mere moneyed aristocracy which is establishing itself in this country, however you may disguise the fact by cunning and soft speeches, or an hyperbolical affectation of republicanism, hates the industrious masses over whom it strives to elevate itself.
“The exclusiveness of your wealthy brokers, that hoard money without spending it, offends the people without benefiting the artisan or the tradesman; and the meanness with which your first people bargain for every trifle to save a penny, renders their custom scarcely desirable to respectable tradespeople. You are extravagantly fond of splendour, and yet are afraid of displaying it. You must understand me right: I speak of the rich, calculating Bostonians, who really live on their property; not of your wealthy men in New York, who live on nine months’ credit. Besides, you yourself will allow that your aristocracy is far from being generally well educated, and I do not see how this fault is to be remedied as long as wealth constitutes the chief title to good society.
“Your aristocracy, therefore, has not the power of dazzling the lower classes with that air of self-possession and dignity by which gentlemen of rank are at once recognised in Europe. On the contrary, the manners of your rich people in their intercourse with less successful aspirants to fortune are markedly coarse and vulgar, in order, I believe, to give the latter to understand that they are sufficiently independent—that, I think, is the word,—not to care for their opinion.”
Here the lawyer pleaded a pressing engagement; and left us, without shaking of hands, or expressing a desire of seeing me again.
“You have made an enemy of that man,” observed my cicerone, “who will make you a hundred more enemies if you should ever think of settling in this city.”