Moving southwards, Mrs Stowe seems to have been surrendered, in the Midland Counties, almost entirely into the hands of the Quakers. They appear to have acted towards her with considerable indulgence; for her host, albeit one of the most eminent of his sect, consented to join a party to Stratford-on-Avon. Mrs Stowe’s Shakespearian remarks do not appear to us either so novel or profound as to justify any lengthy extract—indeed, they are chiefly confined to speculations as to what Shakespeare might have done or said had he been born under different circumstances and in a different age. Disquisitions of this sort appear to us very nearly as sensible and profitable as the question, once gravely argued in the German schools, whether Adam, if born in the fifteenth century, would instinctively have betaken himself to the occupation of a gardener. Mrs Stowe, upon the whole, inclines to the opinion that Shakespeare would have ranked with the Tories. She says—“That he did have thoughts whose roots ran far beyond the depth of the age in which he lived, is plain enough from numberless indications in his plays; but whether he would have taken any practical interest in the world’s movements, is a fair question. The poetic mind is not always the progressive one; it has, like moss and ivy, a need for something old to cling to and germinate upon. The artistic temperament, too, is soft and sensitive; so there are all these reasons for thinking that perhaps he would have been for keeping out of the way of the heat and dust of modern progress.” Certainly, understanding progress in the sense which Mrs Stowe attaches to it, we cordially agree with her that Shakespeare would have kept out of its way; but it does seem to us a most monstrous assumption that he would have taken no practical interest in the world’s movements. Of all the poets that ever lived, Shakespeare was decidedly the most practical and comprehensive in his views. So far from being addicted to clinging to old things, from mere want of moral stamina, he has created a new world of his own; and no man ever possessed so keen a power of analysis of human character, and perception of the springs of action. But possibly we do her wrong. The word “practical” nowadays has divers significations; and if Mrs Stowe simply means to express her belief that Shakespeare, had he existed in our time, would neither have been a habitual spouter upon platforms, a vegetarian, a tee-totaller, a member of the Peace Congress, nor a unit of the Manchester phalanx, we beg leave to record our entire acquiescence in her estimate. Also we think that, as an eminent vice-president of the Fogie Club lately phrased it, she has hit the nail on the point, when she adds—“One thing is quite certain, that he would have said very shrewd things about all the matters that move the world now, as he certainly did about all matters that he was cognisant of in his own day.” We have not the least doubt of it.
The Stratford pilgrimage, however, seems to have given little gratification to any of the party except Mrs Stowe, who considered it in the light of a duty. Her brother, the Rev. C. Beecher, who was of the party, doing a little independent platform business whenever he could with propriety, and whose journal materially swells the bulk of the second volume, seems to be quite the sort of man whom Prynne would have delighted to have honoured. Relic-hunting after professors of the lewd art of play-making, was by no means to his taste; and accordingly we find the following commentary delivered over the tea and crumpets on the questionable amusements of the day:—“As we sat, in the drizzly evening, over our comfortable tea-table, C—— ventured to intimate pretty decidedly that he considered the whole thing a bore; whereat I thought I saw a sly twinkle round the eyes and mouth of our most Christian and patient friend, Joseph Sturge. Mr S. laughingly told him that he thought it the greatest exercise of Christian tolerance, that he should have trailed round in the mud with us all day in our sight-seeing, bearing with our unreasonable raptures. He smiled, and said quietly—‘I must confess that I was a little pleased that our friend Harriet was so zealous to see Shakespeare’s house, when it wasn’t his house, and so earnest to get sprigs from his mulberry, when it wasn’t his mulberry.’ We were quite ready to allow the foolishness of the thing, and join the laugh at our own expense.”
Warwick Castle, where Mrs Stowe grows critical upon art, after a very peculiar fashion—and Kenilworth, at which she indulges in the somewhat singular remark that “it was a beautiful conception, this making of birds”!—need not detain us. The pleasure trip was succeeded by a penance, in the shape of a lecture “against the temptations of too much flattery and applause, and against the worldliness which might beset me in London,” delivered by a celebrated female preacher, belonging to the Society of Quakers, of the name of Sibyl Jones, who had “a concern upon her mind for me.” That Sibyl possessed somewhat of the prophetic spirit, appears plain from the commentary of Mrs Stowe, who was sensibly touched by the hints which she received, and very likely began to feel that she had been somewhat over-elevated by the inflation of the northern Puffendorffs. In all seriousness, we believe that the lesson was both well meant and well timed; but the commentary appended is but one of the many proofs contained in these volumes, that Mrs Stowe is something more than a passive spectator of the Transatlantic movement for establishing what are called the “Rights of Woman”—in more vulgar language, the superiority of the grey mare, and the supremacy of the petticoat over the breeches. Now, as to the supremacy of women, we never had any doubt about it—few men, who have been married for a year, can be sceptical upon that point—and the utmost that men can demand from their wives as to the respective ranking of the garments, is, in the ancient and significant language of the Highlanders, to be allowed “to cast their clothes together.” Moreover, to the wife is invariably committed that highest symbol of authority known as “the power of the keys;” so that she has it in her power at all times to coerce her husband by the simplest and the readiest means. In fact, she has him at a dead lock, and possesses the entire command of the press. Young Hampden may talk as much as he pleases, at his Club, about the liberty of the press, and its being as essential as the air he breathes; but, when he returns home, about one in the morning, he is very fain to take his candle, and move up-stairs as quietly as possible, without attempting to enfranchise any incarcerated spirits. We do not hesitate to declare ourselves in favour of the supremacy of the wife in her own household, believing that it is, in almost every case, an unavoidable consummation, and, upon the whole, the very best arrangement that human ingenuity could devise. But the American notion goes far beyond this. The advocates of the “Rights of Woman” admit of no such paltry compromise as the surrender of domestic authority. What you as a man can do, of that your wife is equally capable, and may lawfully exert herself accordingly. Are you a barrister—why should not your wife, who has studied as a juris-consult, and been admitted to the honours of the forensic gown more legitimately than Portia, take a fee from the opposite party, and, by an influence only known to herself, cause you to quail before you have proceeded half-way in the exposition of the cause of your client? Or are you a doctor—Harriet Hunt, M.D., forgive us for this supposition; for your image, albeit we never saw you and never may, often haunts us in our dreams, and from your imaginary hand have we received multitudes of indescribable but seemingly celestial pills—how would you like your wife to be called in as an adviser on the homœopathic principle, after you had staked your existence on the superiority of the drastic method, and see her recover a patient in less than a week, whereas you had calculated upon a month’s legitimate fees under the ordinary curatory process? Or let us suppose that one of the fairest dreams of the strong-minded women of our generation should be realised, and that all political disabilities were removed from the fair sex, so that they might be admitted to sit and vote in Parliament. We scorn to take up the objection which might occur to a common mind of the impossibility of the Speaker maintaining order—we shall suppose a far worse case; and that is the possible disagreement between man and wife in political principle and conduct. How could you possibly endure the spectacle of your spouse accompanying the smiling Mr Gladstone to a division in one lobby, whilst your stern sense of duty compelled you to retire into another? How could you possibly remain at bed and board with a woman who was in the habit of attending those meetings at Chesham Place, which Lord John Russell is so fond of calling whenever he requires a friendly castigation, as Henry II. bared his brawny shoulders to the monks? And how, as a gentleman and a man of honour, could you reconcile it with your conscience to lay your head on the same pillow with a woman who can support the Coalition Ministry, and even go the length of declaring that she has confidence in the Earl of Aberdeen? Or we shall come to preaching, which is perhaps the more germain to the matter. The Rev. Asahel Groanings, of some undefined shadow of dissent, marries Miss Naomi Starcher of corresponding principles, with a fortune of some few hundred pounds, which are speedily sunk, beyond hope of extrication, in the erection of an Ebenezer. Both are licensed to the ministry, Asahel officiating in the morning and his helpmate in the afternoon. But somehow or other, Asahel is not popular with his congregation. His style of oratory reminds one unpleasantly of the exercitations of a seasick passenger in a steamboat, and his visage is ghastly to look upon, being distorted as if he laboured under a permanent attack of colic. Whereas, the voice of Naomi is soft as that of a dove cooing in a thicket of pomegranates, her countenance is fair and comely, and the thoughts of the elders, as they gaze upon her, revert to the apocryphal history of Susannah. The result is, that Asahel utters his ululations to empty benches, whilst Naomi attracts hundreds of the rising youth of dissenting Christendom. How can their union possibly be a happy one; or how can they continue to fructify in the same theatre of usefulness? Yet Mrs Beecher Stowe absolutely goes the length of recommending, or at least sanctioning, the view that ladies should be allowed to preach. She says, “The calling of women to distinct religious vocations, it appears to me, was a part of primitive Christianity; has been one of the most efficient elements of power in the Romish church; obtained among the Methodists in England; and has in all these cases been productive of great good. The deaconesses whom the apostle mentions with honour in his epistle, Madame Guyon in the Romish church, Mrs Fletcher, Elizabeth Fry, are instances which show how much may be done for mankind by women who feel themselves impelled to a special religious vocation.” Then she goes on to cite the case of the prophetesses, and tells us that “the example of the Quakers is a sufficient proof, that acting upon this idea does not produce discord and domestic disorder.” We are afraid that Mrs Stowe’s platform experiences have tended somewhat to warp her better judgment upon this point; and we beg to submit that, according to her own showing, the ladies of America have quite as much to do, in the interior of their households, as they can possibly manage to accomplish, without entering into any of the learned professions, or attempting to eclipse their husbands. The following extract is certainly a curious one. We, of course, are not answerable for the correctness or colouring of the picture, these being matters for which Mrs Stowe is amenable to the consciences of her countrywomen.
“There is one thing more which goes a long way towards the continued health of these English ladies, and therefore towards their beauty; and that is, the quietude and perpetuity of their domestic institutions. They do not, like us, fade their cheeks lying awake nights ruminating the awful question who shall do the washing next week, or who shall take the chamber-maid’s place, who is going to be married, or that of the cook who has signified her intention of parting with her mistress. Their hospitality is never embarrassed by the consideration that their whole kitchen cabinet may desert at the moment that their guests arrive. They are not obliged to choose between washing their own dishes, or having their cutglass, silver, and china, left at the mercy of a foreigner, who has never done anything but field-work. And last, not least, they are not possessed of that ambition to do the impossible in all branches, which, I believe, is the death of a third of the women in America. What is there ever read of in books or described in foreign travel, as attained by people in possession of every means and appliance, which our women will not undertake, single-handed, in spite of every providential indication to the contrary? Who is not cognisant of dinner-parties invited, in which the lady of the house has figured successively as confectioner, cook, dining-room girl, and, lastly, rushed up-stairs to bathe her glowing cheeks, smooth her hair, draw on satin dress and kid gloves, and appear in the drawing-room as if nothing were the matter? Certainly the undaunted bravery of our American females can never enough be admired. Other women can play gracefully the head of the establishment; but who, like them, could be head, hand, and foot, all at once?”
This passage is very suggestive in two ways. In the first place, we humbly venture to think that it contains many excellent reasons why the ladies of America should mitigate their inordinate desire for sharing in what hitherto have been considered the appropriate employments of men. It appears, by Mrs Stowe’s evidence, that they have already so much domestic work to perform, that they are compelled to sacrifice both their health and beauty, which certainly are the two last things that a woman would be inclined to part with. Therefore it seems to us unwise, and even preposterous, that any portion of them should be clamorous in demanding a further increase of duty, unless, like the gude-wife of Auchtermuchty in the old Scots ballad, they are prepared to make an entire interchange of occupation with their husbands, and can persuade the latter to whip cream, concoct soup, wash the dishes, and arrange the table, whilst they are pleading at the bar, prescribing for half the young fellows in the neighbourhood, gesticulating at public meetings, or receiving the incense of deputations. In the second place, these particulars of American society may, in reality, have more to do with the evident dislike to emancipation of the slaves which evidently prevails in many parts of the United States, than Mrs Stowe was aware of when she penned the passage. If it is true that the ladies of America—using the term in the same sense as Mrs Stowe does, for she is comparing the personal appearance of women of the richer and more independent class in the two countries—if it is the fact that the American ladies in the free States have to undergo the drudgery which she describes, and that not from choice, but from absolute inability to obtain proper assistance; then we have a distinct and intelligible motive assigned to us why many excellent and humane people in the slave States hesitate to join the movement in behalf of emancipation. We have often suspected that some strong social reasons, unknown to us and to the British public, must exist, to account for the continuance of the slave system; and we think that Mrs Stowe has, albeit unwittingly, disclosed one of them. For what does her sentiment amount to, but an acknowledgment that, in the great enlightened republic of America, it is impossible to procure decent or permanent service—that, as there is no acknowledgment of anything like rank or gradation, the servants consider themselves in all respects as good as their master or mistress, will not obey them unless it suits their humour, and are always ready to decamp? That must be the case, unless we are to suppose that the American ladies, answering to the aristocracy here, have a diseased appetite for performing the offices of scullion, cook, and table-maid. Now, it may be thought a very strong statement on our part, but we venture to say, that were slavery existing at the present time in Great Britain, and were the kind of free service procurable on any terms, no better than that which Mrs Stowe and all other writers have described as existing in America, emancipation would be a decidedly unpopular proposal in these Islands. Is it possible to doubt that? Look at the history of the Factories Bill, opposed, defeated, and evaded in every possible way, by the very same men who proclaim themselves as the warmest friends of the negro. They thought it as nothing that the bodies and souls of the young children within their factories should be distorted and uncared for, whilst at the same time they were ready to expend their gratuitous sympathy on the American slave. But we shall not refer solely to them. Our remark applies to every class; and we put the question to the ladies of this country, from the Duchess of Sutherland downwards, whether, if they had been born slave-owners, they would at once have relinquished their control over those whom they could treat kindly, and whose affections they could secure, to pass to a system which would have sent them down from the drawing-room to slave themselves in the pantry or the kitchen? Is that an argument for slavery? Heaven forbid! We intend nothing of the kind, and should be very sorry to see our meaning so twisted and distorted. But it is an argument of the very strongest description against republicanism and republican institutions, and against those absurd notions of equality which, under philosophical cover, are making such rapid progress in this country. Slavery, we are convinced, has in all times existed rather as a social necessity, than from any abstract wish in man to own property in man. The idea is of itself repugnant. Not much more than a hundred years ago, the Earls of Sutherland were, in effect, considerable serf-owners. The patriarchal rule of the chief was more despotic than is the sway of the proprietor of slaves in America; for if the Mhor-ar-chat, which we apprehend to be the most ancient designation of the family, had desired Dugald or Donald to pitch his recusant brother into the loch, with some hundred-weight of granite attached to his neck by a plaid, “nae doubt the laird’s pleasure suld be obeyed.” Fortunately we are past that phase of existence. The feudal system has decayed and died, which we are not by any means sorry for; but, on the other hand, we have not yet arrived at the point when the descendants of Dugald and Donald consider themselves as ranking in the same degree of the social scale with the great Lady of Dunrobin. Feudal service has given way to a better-ordered, more convenient, and more profitable system. But still, among us, the gradations of rank are recognised and acted on; and it is because the feelings and institutions of the country are essentially aristocratic, that our domestic arrangements and social intercourse are so decidedly superior to those of America, or indeed of any other country in the world. We have equal laws, to which noble and yeoman are alike amenable; but we do not insist upon the recognition of what has absurdly and mischievously been termed, the law of universal equality. Admirably has Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, in one of his earlier writings, exposed the fallacy of those who confound equal rights with absolute parity in society. “If the whole world conspired to enforce the falsehood, they could not make it law. Level all conditions to-day, and you only smoothe away all obstacles to tyranny to-morrow. A nation that aspires to equality is unfit for freedom.” How is an army led? By subordination only. Remove that principle, and the army resolves itself into a mob. So is it with all society. Let men talk of the absurdities of chivalry as they please, it is the influence of the chivalrous institutions still remaining among us which leavens the whole mass of British society. Pothouse philosophers may sneer at this assertion, and, in their usual elegant style of language, talk of “flunkeyism,” a phrase which, of late, has been very frequently in their mouths. Let us see what they understand by it. Do they mean to object to service altogether? Do they consider the waiter at the Thistlewood Arms, who supplies them with their nocturnal allowances of gin, degraded by the act of fetching? Doubtless they would infinitely prefer to help themselves, and to be the sole supervisors of the score; but as that is a degree of liberty which no law could possibly allow, or landlord tolerate, they are very fain to avail themselves of the spirituous ministry of Trinculo. But do they consider him on a level with themselves? Not at all. They bully him for his blunders in the transmission of half-and-half and kidneys, with a ferocity truly unfraternal; and if he were to propose to take a place at the table of their democratic worships, he would be taught a due reverence to the rules of society and breeding by the application of a pint-pot to his cranium. We have very little doubt that the wretched kind of domestic economy which prevails in the free States of America has had a strong influence in preventing the spread of emancipation principles; and we believe that to the very same cause may be traced the continuance of slavery in ancient Rome as part of their social system. The Roman plebeian was quite as surly a republican as the descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers. He would not stoop to act in the capacity of a servant—hardly in that of a help, which we believe to be the recognised American term; and consequently the Cornelias, Livias, and Tullias of Rome, had either to avail themselves of the ministry of slaves who formed part of the household, or to submit to the personal drudgery of cleaning the lampreys and opening the oysters for the suppers of their luxurious lords Titius or Mœvius, or any other of the fellows of the common sort who had a tribune of their own, would not have consented to brush the toga or clean the sandals even of a senator. At the bare mention of such a thing they would have been ready to rush to the Mons Sacer, for it is a curious fact that in all ages the disaffected have manifested a propensity for taking to the hills. Chivalry put an end to this; and by establishing gradation of orders and of rank, laid the foundation for the freedom which now prevails throughout the states of Europe. It was no disgrace for the squire to obey the orders of the knight, or for the yeoman to serve the squire. The lady in her bower had the attendance of damsel and of page; and the great model of a well-regulated household was then framed and introduced. But not one atom of chivalrous feeling was conveyed by the Mayflower to New England. The spirit of the sourest republicanism pervaded that whole cargo of human verjuice; and instead of bearing with them to the west the seeds of civilisation, they carried those of intolerance and slavery. Very wise, in more senses than one, is the old proverb, which, in all matters of reformation, desires us to look primarily to home, and to set our houses in order. There are many social reforms, besides emancipation, required in America; and some which we almost venture to think must necessarily precede it. For at present, according to Mrs Stowe’s own showing and testimony, there is a vast gap in society occasioned by the republican abhorrence of anything like menial service, and the jealous and almost defiant spirit with which the semblance of authority is resisted. In a word, we believe that until civilisation in America has proceeded so far as to assimilate its social condition to that of the older states of Europe, very material obstacles will impede the triumph of that cause which Mrs Stowe has so enthusiastically advocated.
Mrs Stowe, like many others of her ardent countrywomen, has a decided turn for crotchets. She next falls in with Elihu Burritt, and begins an eulogistic commentary on the “movement which many, in our half-Christianised times, regard with as much incredulity as the grim, old, warlike barons did the suspicious imbecilities of reading and writing. The sword now, as then, seems so much more direct a way to terminate controversies, that many Christian men, even, cannot conceive how the world is to get along without it.” We suspect that, by this time, exceeding grave doubts as to the practicability of his views, and the termination of all disputes by arbitration, must have penetrated even the jolter-pate of the pragmatic Elihu, and that he must be mourning over the enormous waste of olive-leaves for so little good purpose. We sincerely hope, for his sake, that he has been allowed a liberal commission or per-centage on the circulation. As Mrs Stowe seems to have been admitted to his secrets, we may as well insert her account of the operations of the Peace Society.
“Burritt’s mode of operation has been by the silent organisation of circles of ladies in all the different towns of the United Kingdom, who raise a certain sum for the diffusion of the principles of peace on earth and good-will to men. Articles, setting forth the evils of war, moral, political, and social, being prepared, these circles pay for their insertion in all the principal newspapers of the Continent. They have secured to themselves in this way a continual utterance in France, Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Austria, and Germany; so that from week to week, and month to month, they can insert articles upon these subjects. Many times the editors insert the articles as editorial, which still further favours their design. In addition to this, the ladies of these circles in England correspond with the ladies of similar circles existing in other countries; and in this way there is a mutual kindliness of feeling established through these countries.”
We have already recorded in the Magazine our opinion of the character of these olive-leaves, as well as of the articles avowedly emanating from the pen of the inspired Elihu; and therefore we need not trouble ourselves by again disturbing the rubbish. If there are any sincere but weak people who were inclined to view favourably the movements of the Peace Society, the transactions in Europe during the last twelve months must have convinced them of the utter impossibility of creating any general court of arbitration, by means of which international disputes may be adjusted. At the present moment, Russia stands condemned for her aggression by every state in Europe. Even Prussia does not venture to defend the forcible occupation of the Danubian principalities; and every species of persuasion and representation was employed to induce the Czar to abandon his purpose, or at all events to retrace his steps. So unwilling were the western powers to draw the sword, that they allowed a great deal of valuable time to be expended in negotiation, before they took any decided step; and the general opinion in England is, that the British Government was rather too tardy in its movements. And yet, without a single declared ally, and with the unanimous voice of Europe against him, Nicholas has thrown down the gauntlet, and the fleets of Britain and France are in the Black and the Baltic Seas. After this, it is inconceivable that there should be found any people besotted enough to talk about arbitration. We should not, however, omit to notice the last dying speech and final confession of the Peace Society, as delivered by a leash of Quakers before his Majesty the Emperor of all the Russias, and reported on their return with so much unction by the highly-gifted and exulting Pease. There is no tragedy so deep and solemn as to be entirely without a farcical element; and we can remember nothing, in the shape of burlesque, to compete with the apparition of those diffident Quakers at St Petersburg. But the fact is, that the leading members of the Peace Society, amongst whom rank conspicuously the chiefs of the Manchester school, were perfectly well aware that the notion of arbitration was a mere chimera. Their real object was to promote the spread of democratic principles; and, if possible, to weaken the power of every existing government by strewing dissatisfaction among their subjects. This is not our allegation only—it is in perfect consonance with what Mrs Stowe records in repeating her conversations with the leading apostles of peace; and we really think that the following revelation as to ultimate views, is by no means the least valuable or interesting part of her work. She says—
“When we ask these reformers how people are to be freed from the yoke of despotism without war, they answer, ‘By the diffusion of ideas among the masses—by teaching the bayonets to think.’ They say, ‘If we convince every individual soldier of a despot’s army that war is ruinous, immoral, and unchristian, we take the instrument out of the tyrant’s hand. If each individual man would refuse to rob and murder for the Emperor of Austria and the Emperor of Russia, where would be their power to hold Hungary? What gave power to the masses in the French Revolution, but that the army, pervaded by new ideas, refused any longer to keep the people down?’
“These views are daily gaining strength in England. They are supported by the whole body of the Quakers, who maintain them with that degree of inflexible perseverance and never-dying activity which have rendered the benevolent actions of that body so efficient.”