Philadelphia traces back our genealogy, and questions, “Who was your grandfather?” While Boston lifts her eye-glass, and, surveying our mental cranium, inquires, “What do you know?”
The social traits of New England proper are so combined with her business character that they are with difficulty separated, and both are best defined by foreign visitors.
It was an Englishman who said, “Go ahead is the grand doctrine of New England;” and we see that this principle, plainly enforced and practically carried out, builds her cities, founds her public libraries, carries on her immense commerce, and increases public traffic.
Without this quality, coupled with her independence and disregard for romantic associations, the Yankee would never make pilgrimages to the Old World for the sole and evident purpose of placarding the pyramids, and introducing his invention for removing stains at some half-ruined cathedral whose famous “spot of blood” is cherished with reverent care.
“New England excels,” according to an English cousin, “in an openness to ideas, an aptness for intuitions, and sometimes a seemingly positive preference for the bird in the bush,” which latter may account for that skilful Yankee versatility so perfectly exemplified in the chaplain, poet, editor, merchant, speculator, politician, historian, and minister, Barlow.
It is this quiet independence, indomitable will, and never-ceasing purpose to “get on,” which is a characteristic of the New England women, and which may be summed up in the expressive adjective “capable.” Armed with this power, she cheerfully teaches school, makes dresses, binds books, or “keeps house,” considering no honest work degrading, and proving herself equally efficient in each.
Here is found that shrewd, stirring common-sense which is New England’s strong point. Here is hinted, also, that philosophic humor which is the one ray lightening her intense realism.
As indefinable as it is delightful, it comes with a lightning flash of wit into the dry, theological conversation of the preacher, relieves with its sharp hits the spread-eagle speech of the country orator, brightens with its apt allusions the more refined periods of the lecturer, flits charmingly in and out of the sympathetic essays of Holmes, keeps us in a perpetual chuckle over the mirthful pages of Irving, and embodies itself in the quaint good-nature of an indolent, contemplative Sam Lawson.
For nowhere is this genial quality found in such purity as among the true, rustic Yankees, whose clear-cut, homely phrases and sharp localisms are not as entirely extinct as is supposed. Country life has a way all its own of preserving the best traits of a people, and in more than one old-fashioned farm-house, and among the haymakers in more than one sunny meadow, may be heard the witty expressions and strong metaphors which led Dickens to say, “In shrewdness of remark and a certain cast-iron quaintness the Yankee people unquestionably take the lead.”
In the country, too, as if growing and blossoming under the influence of the warm, unobstructed sunshine, is the sturdy growth of genuineness, hearty, coöperative sympathy, and cheery hospitality, the latter having its highest exponent in New England’s distinctive festival, Thanksgiving. The dear old holiday may well be called the cradle of New England graces, for it bears much the same relation to the development of her social traits that the old Greek and Roman games bore in developing characteristics of strength and bravery.