I of course pledged him in due politeness, and in less than five minutes felt perfectly acquainted with the whole company. I then made a second attempt at forcing an entrance into the ball-room, which, the Kentuckians being gone, and their places filled by two spindle-shanked heroes of New York, succeeded beyond my most sanguine expectations; admitting me not only into the room, but into the presence of the lady of the house. Having been invited only through the kind intercession of a friend, without knowing mine hostess, and the custom of announcing by servants being not yet introduced into the United States, a gentleman who acted as usher immediately offered me his arm, and led me into the presence of an elderly lady, dressed rather in the English matron style than à la française, and whose countenance betokened a life passed in domestic peace and comfort.
The gentleman introduced me as Monsieur DE ***, much against my own inclination, and I could clearly perceive the consequence that little word de gave me; not so much with the lady of the house, as with a number of fashionable misses, strangers in the metropolis, “who had just come out that season.” I do not know whether vanity had something to do with it, but I thought I heard one of them ask whether I was a bachelor; which question being answered in the affirmative, I am quite sure I heard another one say, “Hem! I dare say he is as poor as that Polish Count ***, who flirted with every young lady, and, when it came to the scratch, had hardly money enough to pay the parson.”
This common-sense remark of an American belle, which proved in a most satisfactory manner her preferring the useful to the agreeable, did not much affect me; neither did I ascribe it to the want of liberality towards strangers, having seen native Americans victimized in the same manner. I therefore pretended not to have heard the remark, and asked the gentleman who acted as master of the ceremonies to have the kindness to introduce me to the lady who, I thought, had inquired whether I was married.
I found her well-educated, spirituelle,—full of imagination. I even think she gave me to understand that she once wrote poetry—as an exercise at the boarding-school, and that she always had a secret attachment to men of letters. Among the various English writers, she was most in love with Scott, who completely transported her to the times of chivalry and knight-errantry; while her own countryman Cooper was to her “an object of perfect horror,” though she had no particular objection to his last works, “which contain a great deal of information about the state of society in Europe.” She “longed to see Europe; and was very much indebted to mamma for bringing her to Washington, where she could already have a foretaste of it.” On hearing this, her mother, who stood near her, said that she was a child, and that I must not listen to her. Being really not disposed for a flirtation, and seeing the same senator with whom I had taken a walk in the afternoon enter the room, I was glad to find an opportunity of leaving my sentimental fair one to the care of her tender parent, who had instilled into her such delicate tastes.
When the senator saw that I was disengaging myself, he came up to me without ceremony, shook me by the hand, and asked me how I liked the party. I related to him my adventure in the upper room, which made him smile. “You may depend upon it,” said he, “that if ever you meet with any of those gentlemen in the neighbourhood of his estate, you will not be able to get off with less than a month’s stay at his house,—such would be his hospitality, and the pleasure of meeting you again. I must now lead you round a little, in order to show you some of our most remarkable characters.
“That man there, with white hair and dark keen eyes, who so violently gesticulates, is Mr. Wise, a member from Virginia. He is a paragon of American speakers,—always up, always ready, always determined to speak, on every occasion, the modicum of two or three hours, were it but to show his friends and constituents that he is ‘up and doing.’ He is a member of the Whig opposition; fighting against the government as against a hydra with many heads, all which he has to sever from the trunk. His contempt for the present administration knows neither bounds nor reason; and he is opposed to every one of its measures, to every member or senator that ever seconded or defended one of these, and to every man that ever voted for any such member or senator. He goes, in fact, ‘the whole hog t’other way,’ and, as such, is the very type of an American Whig. He carries his opposition almost to madness, though amongst his numerous speeches there are a good many clever ones.”
“I could never tell the object of your Whig party,” said I; “pray, what are its peculiar principles?”
“Our appellation of Whigs or Conservatives, and Tories, Democrats, or Destructives,” replied he, “must really puzzle the English. I would ask, what have our Conservatives to preserve? What our Destructives to destroy? Our Conservatives possess no exclusive rights, no privileges beyond those enjoyed by the people at large; their names are not associated with the history of the country; their ancestors, if they were known, had nothing to do with establishing the government,—for the mania for aristocracy is least to be found among those families whose forefathers distinguished themselves in the revolutionary war; they hold no property which the first commercial crisis may not destroy; and hold, in fact, the very reverse position of the Conservatives in England. They do not endeavour to preserve what they possess, but strive to acquire more; they are not associated with the past, but entertain bright hopes of the future; they do not stand on the broad basis of the history of their own country, but seek for precedent in Europe. This, sir, is the character of our Conservatives, Whigs, or Aristocrats, who bear no more resemblance to the English Tories, than a poor man, who tries to become rich by shaving his neighbour, does to a millionnaire who defends his own property.
“You must not be misled by the idle declamations of those who incessantly talk of the levelling system, and its consequences on the people of this country. The levelling system commenced at the very settlement of the country, and was most active during the revolution. It was then that the Conservatives, with some show of logic, might have declaimed against the levelling principle; not now. There are some who will gravely tell you that the most eminent American statesmen, during the revolution and immediately after, were Conservatives, or moderate Tories; but what does this prove, if it be true? Simply, that a great number of those whom an overruling Providence used as instruments in bestowing liberty and happiness on our people, did not understand what they were doing: which, after all, does not make so very much against them; there being at all times, and in all countries, but few politicians capable of foreseeing the ultimate result of an innovation. And what, I would ask, have nine-tenths of these Tories to lose by this levelling system, that makes them so tenacious of their doctrines? Where is the elevation from which they are afraid to descend? What noble principles which they cherish, will thereby be trodden in the dust? What protection which they give to arts and sciences, will thereby suffer? Echo must answer, ‘What?’—Daniel Webster, the gentleman there with the hawk-eyes, told us that the war between the democrats and the aristocracy is a war of the poor against the rich; and I am inclined to think he is half right,—as far, namely, as concerns his own party. But if wealth form the only distinction, the only claim to supremacy in our country, the sooner we get rid of its influence the better. It is the most degrading of all, and must be equally spurned by the labourer and the man of genius.”
“But a great number of your literary men belong likewise to the opposition.”