Part 1

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

Footnote anchors are denoted by [number], and the footnotes have been placed at the end of the book.

A Table of Contents has been created by the transcriber and placed before the main text.

Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.

NEW BOOKS.

_Carey, Lea & Blanchard have lately published_,

GLEANINGS IN EUROPE—FRANCE.

By the author of the Spy, &c. in 2 vols. 12mo.

Extremely amusing, light and piquant, and abounding in anecdotes.—London Sun.

Characteristic and entertaining volumes, containing much amusing anecdotes, and well executed sketches of society in Paris.—Morning Post.

As a man of talents, of sound and judicious observation, this work will add largely to the reputation of the great American Novelist. It is truth, in its way a masterly performance.—Scotsman.

EXCURSIONS ON THE RHINE, IN SWITZERLAND, &c.

By the author of the Spy, in 2 vols. 12mo.

“Knowing by delightful experience the great descriptive powers of the author of ‘Excursions,’ we may safely conclude that whoever peruses them will do so with an additional satisfaction when he reflects that they are described by the same pen which has drawn such animated portraits of men and of nature before. This work is indeed a most lively narrative of travels.”—Times.

SKETCHES OF SWITZERLAND.

PART FIRST, by the same author, in 2 vols. 12mo.

“The author of ‘The Spy,’ not content with the fame already acquired in the field of literature, has here made another effort to impart some valuable thoughts to the gratification of his friends and the public. The two volumes before us are a compilation of letters written from France to the author’s personal friends in America, but these letters will not be less acceptable because written as private epistles, inasmuch as they contain much of that peculiar character which instructs while it amuses. Mr. Cooper’s testimony in relation to the then existing state of society in France, may be considered as honest; whilst in relation to the more weighty matters which fell under his observation, he appears to have acted upon that most excellent appeal of Othello, ‘nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice’”—_American Citizen._

“Whatever Mr. Cooper undertakes to describe, he does it with the hand of a master, and a single chapter of description from his vigorous pen, conveys more distinct ideas of the things and persons of whom he writes, than all the volumes of First Impressions which have ever been published. His views of society are also such as may be studied with advantage; and it is to be hoped that the results of his experience will not be entirely lost on his fellow citizens.”—_Saturday News._

New Work, by Washington Irving.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS; OR, SCENES, INCIDENTS AND ADVENTURES IN THE FAR WEST.—Digested from the Journal of Captain B. L. E. Bonneville, of the U.S., and illustrated from various other sources, by Washington Irving, author of Astoria &c. &c. in 2 vols. 12mo. with Maps.

LADY MONTAGUE’S LETTERS AND WORKS.

In two handsome volumes.

The correspondence of Lady Mary Wortley Montague with the Countess of Pomfret, the Countess of Bute, the Countess of Mar, Lady Rich, the Countess of Bristol, Mr. Wortley, Sir James Stewart of Colkness, &c., including upwards of one hundred and fifty Letters, hitherto unpublished: a memoir of the Court of George 1st, by Lady Mary Wortley Montague: a sketch of the state of parties by Mr. Wortley, and a life of the authoress: the whole work illustrated with anecdotes and explanatory notes. Edited by Lord Wharncliffe, her great-grandson.

In this edition the names formerly given only in initials and the suppressed passages are restored, from the original MSS. in the possession of Lord Wharncliffe.

“Beautiful, classical and interesting are the letters and works of Lady Mary Wortley Montague. Long as the English language shall hold a place amongst the nations of the earth—just so long will those eloquent letters be considered amongst the standards of its purity and excellence. We would ask—where, either in ancient or modern times, have a series of letters, extending through many years, been published, that contain so elegant a commixture of the _utile et dulce_—the instructive and the entertaining.”

The entire work is edited by her ladyship’s great-grandson, Lord Wharncliffe, who has added a large quantity of additional correspondence from the family papers, and anecdotes which his lordship obtained from the Marquis of Bute and Lord Dudley Stuart.

All who desire to acquire an elegant and fluent style, with a lively and agreeable diction, should read the writings of Lady Mary Wortley Montague.—_Penn. Inquirer._

TUCKER’S JEFFERSON.

The Life of Thomas Jefferson, third President of the United States, with parts of his correspondence, never before published, and notices of his opinions on questions of Civil Government, National Policy, and Constitutional Law, by George Tucker, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Virginia, with an engraved bust, in two volumes.

“The style of the work is altogether historical, and in its method and manner is alike deserving of praise. So many points of interest, however, arise to our mind in speaking of the work, and which it would be impossible to discuss in a newspaper, that we must dismiss it with the general commendation, that it is one which every political party will derive equal interest and instruction in perusing.”

“The work is written throughout with candour and temperance of feeling. In the difficult necessity of pursuing an even and continuous thread of narrative amid the innumerable distracting influences of public and private questions, with which his subject is necessarily connected, and usually so fatal to the biographer of a public character—Professor Tucker has been singularly successful, diverging just enough to exhibit the cause and its effect in juxtaposition, and never enlarging into a needless prolixity of detail.”—_Metropolitan._

“From an author of such capacity, possessed of so many valuable sources of information, the public may reasonably expect a full and perfect history of the political and private life of Thomas Jefferson—friendly to his reputation and character of course—but as impartial as the imperfection of human nature will permit.”—_Baltimore Gazette._

GLEANINGS IN EUROPE.

ENGLAND:

BY

AN AMERICAN.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

_PHILADELPHIA_: CAREY, LEA, AND BLANCHARD. 1837.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1837,

BY CAREY, LEA, AND BLANCHARD,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

HASWELL, BARRINGTON, AND HASWELL, PRINTERS.

CONTENTS

Page LETTER XV. TO RICHARD COOPER, ESQ., COOPERSTOWN, N. Y. 13 LETTER XVI. TO RICHARD COOPER, ESQ., COOPERSTOWN, N. Y. 26 LETTER XVII. TO MRS. COMSTOCK, COMSTOCK, MICHIGAN. 40 LETTER XVIII. TO RICHARD COOPER, ESQ., COOPERSTOWN, N. Y. 62 LETTER XIX. TO WILLIAM JAY, ESQUIRE. 78 LETTER XX. TO JAMES STEVENSON, ESQ., ALBANY, N. Y. 104 LETTER XXI. TO RICHARD COOPER, ESQUIRE, COOPERSTOWN. 117 LETTER XXII. TO JACOB SUTHERLAND, ESQUIRE. 129 LETTER XXIII. HENRY FLOYD-JONES, ESQ., FORT NECK. 162 LETTER XXIV. TO R. COOPER, ESQ., COOPERSTOWN, N. Y. 179 LETTER XXV. J. E. DE KAY, ESQUIRE, NEW YORK. 189 LETTER XXVI. TO JAMES STEVENSON, ESQ., ALBANY, N. Y. 205 LETTER XXVII. TO JACOB SUTHERLAND, ESQ., GENEVA. 220 LETTER XXVIII. TO RICHARD COOPER, ESQUIRE, COOPERSTOWN, NEW YORK. 236 LETTER XXIX. TO CAPTAIN B. COOPER, U. S. NAVY. 255

ENGLAND.

LETTER XV.

TO RICHARD COOPER, ESQ., COOPERSTOWN, N. Y.

The last month has been one of severe duty with the knife and fork. Through the hospitality and kindness of Mr. Rogers I have dined no less than three times with him alone.

On the first occasion our party consisted of lords Lansdowne, Grey, and Gower,[1] Sir Thomas Lawrence, Mr. Luttrell, and myself. I have little to tell you of this dinner, which was like any other. I thought some of the company stood too much in awe of the great man, though I did not see why, for there is no one here with whom I feel less restraint, myself, than with Lord Grey. Of course one defers naturally to a man of his years and reputation, but beyond this, I found nothing to check conversation.

The painter is a handsome, well-behaved man, though he was not at his ease. In the course of the evening he inquired if I knew Gilbert Stewart. He had a slight acquaintance with him, and wished to know if “he were not a very facetious gentleman.” I was of opinion that Stewart invented to amuse his sitters. This, Sir Thomas then observed, explained a report he had heard, according to which, Mr. Stewart had claimed him as one of his pupils; an honour I thought he rather pointedly disavowed. Our artist does not appear to be much known here. It is the fashion to decry Mr. West now, quite as much as it was to overrate him while the island, by the war, was hermetically sealed against continental art. We constantly run into the extreme of over-estimating the celebrity of our own people in this part of the world. So far as my experience goes, Washington and Franklin are the only two Americans who enjoy thoroughly European reputations. I mean by this, that were their names mentioned in a drawing-room, every one would know who they were, their peculiar merits, and the leading points in their histories. Jefferson would, I think, come next; after which, the knowledge of individuals would be confined chiefly to the respective professions. There are men who live by writing for the periodicals, and such is the craving for novelty, that they lay heaven and earth under contribution for subjects. In this way, an article occasionally appears that treats of American things and American names, and, in the simplicity of our hearts, we fancy the world is meditating on our growing greatness, when in fact, the periodicals themselves scarcely attract attention. Indeed, one of the things that has struck me favourably here, is the practice which people have of doing their own thinking. Puffs and advertisements may help a work off, but they do not, as with us, bestow reputation. Nothing is more common than to hear opinions of books and pictures, but I do not remember ever to have heard a remark concerning the notions of the reviewers. Reviews may control the inferior classes, but they have little or no effect on the higher. Intelligence, breeding, tone, taste, and manners, rally in such masses in these huge capitals, that they not only make head against the inroads of vulgarity and ignorance, but they even send forth a halo that sheds a little light out of their own proper sphere; whereas, with us, like treasures exposed to invasion, they are in constant risk from an incursion of the barbarians, who sometimes fairly get them in their clutches.

Mr. Alston is less known than I had supposed, though where known he seems to be appreciated. I should say Mr. Leslie is more in possession of the public, here, than any other American artist, though scarcely known out of England, for a painting has not ubiquity, like a book. Mr. Newton’s reputation is limited. We boast too much of these gentlemen; not on account of their merits, for each has great merits in his way; but because I think neither is particularly anxious to meet our prurient attachment. Mr. Leslie is a mild man, and cares little, apparently, for any thing but his tastes and his affections; the latter of which do not turn exclusively to America. He was born in London, and has told me that his first recollections are of England. Mr. Newton has quite pointedly given me to understand that he too was born a British subject, and that he thinks himself an Englishman. If any man is excusable for deserting his country, it is the American artist. His studies require it, even, and there is little to gratify his tastes at home. As respects these two gentlemen, the accidents of birth are in unison with the accidents of their profession, and it really seems to me we should show more self-respect by permitting them to choose their own national characters.

At the second dinner we had ladies; the sister of the poet presiding. We were kept waiting a good while for two or three gentlemen who were in the House of Lords, where it seems an interesting debate occurred on a party question, but we sate down without them. We had at table, Mr. Thomas Grenville; a Lord Ashburnham, who, when asked the question, confessed he had not been in the House, except to take the oaths, in seventeen years; and Lady Aberdeen, the wife of the minister. Lady —— was also of our party. The absentees left large gaps at the board, and our dinner was _tant soit peut_ dull.

In the course of the evening, Mr. Grenville related a very amusing anecdote of Scott. They dined in company with the Princess of Wales, while she was in her equivocal exile at Blackheath. After dinner, the party was grouped around the chair of the Princess, when the latter said abruptly, “They tell me, Mr. Scott, you relate the prettiest Scotch stories in the world; do have the goodness to relate me one.” This was making a little of a mountebank of the great bard to be sure, but his deference for royal rank was so great that he merely bowed, and said “yes, madam,” and began—“In the reign of king such a one, there lived in the highlands of Scotland, such a Laird,” going on with his legend, as if he were reading it from a book. The story was short, neatly told, and produced a good effect. “Dear me! Mr. Scott, what a clever story!” exclaimed the Princess, who, if all they say about lineage and blood be true, must have been a changeling, “pray, be so obliging as to tell me another.” “Yes, madam!” said Scott, and without a moment’s hesitation he went on with another, as a school-boy would go through with his task!

Mr. Grenville asked me if John Jay was still alive. On hearing that he was, he spoke of him in high terms, as a man of abilities and sterling integrity. I should say Mr. Jay has left a better name in England, than any diplomatic man we ever had here. In general, I think the disposition is to “damn us with faint praise;” but the respect of Mr. Grenville seemed sincere and cordial. Dr. Franklin is not a favourite in London; more than one of the prominent men among the English statesmen speaking of him, in my presence, in any thing but terms of admiration.

It is not a safe rule to take the opinion of England concerning any American in public life, for it is very often “_tant mieux, tant pis_” with them, but there is a sturdy honesty in the better part of this nation that gives a value to their judgments in all matters of personal integrity and fair standing.

After dinner, our peers came in full of their debate, and as merry as boys. Lord Holland was one of them, and he was quite animated with what had passed. It seems my bishop had made a speech, which they pronounced rather illogical.

Sir Walter Scott soon after joined us. Although so complaisant to a princess, he showed he had stuff in him, to-night. There was a woman of quality present, who is a little apt to be _exigeante_, and who, I dare say, on a favourable occasion, might ask for three stories. No sooner did the great poet appear in the door, than, although in a remote part of the room, she addressed him in a decided voice, asking him how he did, and expressing _her_ delight at seeing him. The old man took it all like Ben-Nevis, walking up coolly to Miss Rogers and paying his respects, (a tribute to good manners that scarcely silenced the other) before he made the least reply. This was done with the steadiness, quiet, and tact of Lafayette, certainly one of the best bred men of the age. Scott seems much more at his ease in London than he did in Paris, where the romance and the _empressement_ of the women had the effect to embarrass him a little.

The third of Mr. Rogers’s dinners was given expressly to Sir Walter Scott, I believe. We had at table, Sir Walter himself, Mr. Lockhart, Mrs. Lockhart, and Miss Anne Scott; Mr. Chantrey, Lord John Russell, and Mr. Sharp, a gentleman who is called “Conversation Sharp,” Sir James Macintosh, and a Mr. Jekyll, who, I was told, from his intimacy with George the Fourth and his wit, has obtained the name of the “king’s jester.” Mr. Leslie came in before we left the table, and in the drawing-room we had Mrs. Siddons and several more ladies.

There is something too gladiatorial about such dinners, to render them easy or entertaining. As a homage to Scott it was well enough, but it wanted the _abandon_ necessary to true enjoyment. No one talked freely, even Mr. Sharp, who has obtained so much reputation for ability in that way, making one or two ineffectual rallies to set us in motion. I have met this gentleman frequently, and, though a sensible and an amiable man, I have been a good deal at a loss to imagine how he got his appellation. In comparison with that of Sir James Macintosh his conversation is gossip. I do not mean by this, however, that Mr. Sharp indulges in trivial subjects, but it strikes me, he has neither reach of mind, information, originality, wit, nor command of language, to give him reputation in a town like London, and yet he is every where called “Conversation Sharp.” In short, if I had not been told that such was his _sobriquet_, I should have said he was a sensible, amiable, well-read person, of social habits, and who talked neither particularly well, nor yet so ill as to attract attention, and just about as much as a man of his age ought to talk. He seems rather more disposed than usual, to break the stiff silence that sometimes renders an English party awkward, and may have become distinguished in that way, for the man who will put Englishmen at ease in company, meaning Englishmen of a certain class, merits an illustration. Before this dinner, however, I have never observed so much of this social awe, in the better company, here. A caste or two lower in the scale, it becomes characteristic of the national manners, always excluding, of course, those who are so low as to be natural. I think the _people_ of England are more hearty, cordial, and free in their modes of intercourse, than the people of America, though certainly less _parochial_; the application of which term I shall leave you to discover for yourself.

Mr. Jekyll has a reputation for chaste wit. To-day he was not distinguished in this respect, though I observed that the company occasionally smiled at his remarks, as if they associated cleverness with his conversation. In this particular, I question if there is a man in London, above the level of story-tellers and jokers, who is the equal of Mr. W——.

It strikes me the English are drilled into a formality that throws a cloud over their social intercourse. As a people they are not fluent, and the itching desire to catch the tone of the highest class has probably a bad effect; for a man may be a peer, or a great commoner, without being much gifted with intellect. It is true, that Englishmen of this class are generally respectable, but mere respectability of mind will not suffice for great models, and when a body of merely respectable men impart a tone to others, which originates in their own incapacity, it has the effect to restrain talents. Individuals like Sir James Macintosh and Mr. Coleridge overcome this by the force of their impulses, and the consciousness of power, but thousands of men, highly, though less gifted than they, are curbed by the established forms. This is but speculation, after all, and quite likely it is valueless.

I have told you Mrs. Siddons and several other ladies joined us in the evening. Mr. Rogers presented me to the former, but her reception was cold and distant. Drawn out, as I had been, especially for this introduction, I could not withdraw abruptly without saying something, and I remarked that our papers, perhaps idly, had been flattering the Americans that she was about to visit the country. She answered that if she were twenty years younger, she might be glad to do so, but her age now put such a thing quite out of the question. Her air was too much on stilts, I thought, and, though I dare say, it is her natural manner, it reminded me unpleasantly of the heroine. Her voice seemed pitched to the stately keys of a tragic queen, and her enunciation was slightly pedantic. I should say for the drawing-room, her tone, as relates to these peculiarities, was decidedly professional and bad. I may tell you many things of this nature that will be opposed to your previous impressions, but the sources of information, whence the portraits of the periodical literature of the day are drawn, are to be distrusted. There is one distinguished English writer in particular, of whom it is the fashion to celebrate, in constant eulogies, the grace and deportment, who, I shall say, is one of the very worst-mannered persons I have ever met in cultivated society. Flattery and malice, sustained, as both are, by the credulity and compliance of mankind, make sad work with the truth.[2]

Mr. Lockhart did me the favour to present me to his wife, who is a daughter of Sir Walter Scott. She is eminently what the French call _gracieuse_, and just the woman to have success at Paris, by her sweet simple manners, sustained by the great name of her father. I thought her quick of intellect and reflective of humour. Scott himself was silent and quiet the whole day, though he had a good stately chat with Mrs. Siddons, who _dialogued_ with him, in a very Shaksperian manner.

The next day, in the morning, I had a visit from Sir Walter, to apologise for not keeping an engagement he had made to go with Mr. Rogers and myself to Hampton Court, where his son Major Scott is just now quartered. In the conversation in which this engagement was made, I happened to mention something connected with my consulate, when Sir Walter inquired, with a little interest if I were the consul of America at Lyons. I told him I was so in commission and name, though I had never been in the place. “Ah!” observed Mr. Rogers, with a pithy manner he knows how to assume—“it is a _job_.” To this I answered, it was a bad job, then, as it returned neither honour nor profit. Sir Walter had listened attentively to this trifling, and he now came to speak further on the subject, as well as to make his apologies.

The late Lady Scott was the daughter of a native of Lyons it seems, her maiden name having been Charpentier, or _Anglice_, Carpenter. Some person of the family, as I understood Sir Walter, had gone to the East Indies, where he had accumulated a considerable fortune, and it now became important to his children to establish the affinity, in order to do which, the first step was to get extracts from the local registers, of the birth of M. Charpentier. He brought with him a note of what he required, and I promised to send it to the consular agent, immediately, for investigation. In this note he described M. Charpentier as a _maître d’armes_, or fencing master, a sort of occupation that would just suit his own notions of chivalry.