“No! not that time, because Lawrence was drunk, they say; but didn’t we whip you well at New Orleans?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“No? oh, Captain!”
“I say you did not.—If your people had come out from behind their cotton bales and sugar casks, we’d have knocked you all into a cocked hat; but they wouldn’t come out, so we walked away in disgust.”
“Now, Captain, that’s romancing—that won’t do.” Here the little ones joined in the cry, “We did beat you, and you know it.” And, hauling me into the centre of the room, they joined hands in a circle, and danced round me, singing:
“Yankee doodle is a tune,
Which is nation handy.
All the British ran away
At Yankee doodle dandy.”
I shall conclude by stating that this feeling, call it patriotism, or what you please, is so strongly implanted in the bosom of the American by education and association, that wherever, or whenever, the national honour or character is called into question, there is no sacrifice which they will not make to keep up appearances. It is this which induces them to acquit murderers, to hush up suicides, or any other offence which may reflect upon their asserted morality. I would put no confidence even in an official document from the government, for I have already ascertained how they will invariably be twisted, so as to give no offence to the majority; and the base adulation of the government to the people is such, that it dare not tell them the truth, or publish any thing which might wound its self-esteem.
I shall conclude with two extracts from a work of Mr Cooper, the American:—
“We are almost entirely wanting in national pride, though abundantly supplied with an irritable vanity, which might rise to pride had we greater confidence in our facts.”
“We have the sensitiveness of provincials, increased by the consciousness of having our spurs to earn on all matters of glory and renown, and our jealousy extends even to the reputations of the cats and dogs.”