Part 14

Still, the street music of London is positively the best in the world. The improvement in the last few years, even, is quite apparent. Respectable artists, such as would gladly be received in our orchestras, walk the streets, and play the music of Rossini, Mozart, Beethoven, Meyerbeer, Weber, &c. &c. beneath your windows. London is not as well arranged for this species of enjoyment as the towns of the continent, for there are no courts in which the performers can get away from the clamour of the streets; but, about eight, the carriages cease, every body being at dinner, and most of the more private places are quite silent. Since the weather has become mild, I have frequently paused in my evening walks, to listen to airs that have come from the harp, violin, and flageolet, and have almost fancied myself in Venice, or Naples, though surrounded by the dingy bricks of London. A party of French have found us out, and they come regularly, twice a week, and play old French airs beneath the windows; favours that are seldom conferred on private houses, the public hotels being their usual stopping places. The secret of this unusual feature in the town, is in the fact, that where an Italian, or a Frenchman, though filled with enthusiasm, would bestow a few sous, the Englishman, with immoveable muscles, throws out half a crown. Walking to a dinner, the other evening, I heard a grand piano, on which some one was playing an overture of Rossini’s, accompanied by a flageolet, and, going a little out of my way to ascertain the cause, I found the artist in the street, seated before the open windows of a hotel. He trundled the machine about on a sort of wheelbarrow, and his execution was quite equal to what one usually hears in society.

I cannot describe to you the influence these sweet sounds, especially when they revive the recollections of other and more genial lands, have over the feelings. These are the moments in which men may be said truly to live, and half an hour of such delight is worth a year passed in listening to the prices of lots, and to the variation of the markets. Music is certainly a good _article_!

LETTER XXVII.

TO JACOB SUTHERLAND, ESQ., GENEVA.

Amid the affected disdain, that is so often assumed by the press and orators of England, when there is occasion to allude to America, a lively jealousy of the growing power of the republic is easily discovered. But, one at a distance, like yourself, may not be aware of the extent to which this feeling is allied with apprehension of Russia. The wise policy of Alexander created affinities of an alarming nature between the government of Russia and that of America, and, mingled with a reluctance to give us fair words and honest treatment, that goes nigh to choke them, the statesmen, here, are beginning to feel the necessity of counteracting some of the bad consequences of their own former blunders.

Heaven bless the Quarterly Review, say I! Although I am far from boasting of the mental independence of the republic, for few men can be more strongly impressed with the dangerous character of the practice that so generally prevails at home, of reasoning and feeling on all questions of polity like Englishmen, instead of Americans, I do believe the Quarterly Review has done more towards alienating the feelings of America from Great Britain, than the two wars, the commercial rivalries, the orders in council, impressment, the Henry plot, and all the other points of national dissension, united. This may sound extravagant, but I am not the only person of this way of thinking; and it is certain; the facts being too notorious to admit of dispute, that several of our prominent men, who were formerly most subject to the Anglo-mania, have beep converted to a more healthful state of feeling, in consequence of their having been, accidentally, personal sharers in the abuse that has been so lavishly heaped on the nation. I have laughed, heartily, at the writhings of a certain instructor, under whom you and I, when boys, were condemned to hear all things English lauded to the skies, but who, having been roughly handled, as a writer, in this very Quarterly, has since come out manfully in vindication, as it is called, of the country, or, in other words of its _things_, and, in reality, of himself.

This is a species of independence of which their will never be a lack. Let us, be grateful, however, for this much, and thank our stars and the Quarterly, accordingly. When I rejoice in the alienation of the feelings of America from England, it is not that I could wish to see our own nation on worse terms with this, than with any other, but, under the full conviction that we must pass through some such process of alienation, before we shall ever get to consider the English in the only mode that is either safe or honourable for one independent people to regard another. The constant infusion of new prejudices and partialities, by the agency of emigrants, and the manner in which we are obliged to depend on England for our literature, has rendered the change singularly slow, nor does it strike me that what is actually going on, is taking the right direction. We no longer believe that an English apple is better than an American apple, it is true; or even an English hog, or a horse; but, we do not the less believe in English political principles, although nothing can be more apparent than the fact that these principles have been established as a consequence of a factitious, and, in some measure, a fortuitous condition of society, to which our own system is, perhaps, more antagonist than that of any other Christian state.

Keeping the question of our moral dependence out of view, and returning to this country, I think the jealousy of Russia is about to produce a change of policy as respects America. It is quite impossible for one never out of America, to appreciate the nature and extent of the interest that all the higher classes, here, feel in their foreign policy. In America, we are almost in a state of nature, as regards every thing of the sort, the world furnishing no example perhaps of a people so much neglecting all the great interests that are not placed immediately before their eyes.[17] Did the people of the United States understand their true situation, the intentions, expectations, and wishes of this part of the world, they would at once exhibit a naval force, that should demonstrate the hazards of incurring their just resentment.

Some of our early diplomatists in Europe, when men of talents and character were alone employed in such situations, speak of the reasons they had for distrusting the intentions of England, on the subject of our independence, but I have lately been astonished at hearing it suggested, here, that this government has not yet absolutely abandoned the project of attempting re-colonization. It is probable that this opinion is now exaggerated, but that such a scheme did exist, until within the last fifteen or twenty years, I make no doubt. There is a remarkable expression in an article of the Edinburgh Review, that appeared shortly after the peace of 1815. I quote from memory, but the words were nearly these, and as to the idea it is accurate, the subject of the article being America—“_We presume that the project of re-colonization is at length abandoned!_” Such a remark would not have been made causelessly. But I have, myself, been present when this subject was discussed, in Paris, by men who are in the secrets of states, and I well remember the surprise I felt at hearing the possibility of re-colonization suggested. On that occasion, when I gave the failure in 1776, as a proof of the impracticability of such a project at this late day, I was significantly reminded of the hundred millions that England had subjugated in India.

One thing is certain; we estimate our own security, very differently from what it is estimated here. It is the expectation of Europe generally, and of England especially, that we shall separate; and to this end, it is probable that the efforts of those who plot our overthrow will be directed. Little, I might almost say nothing, is known in America, of the means that are employed by the privileged classes of Europe to maintain their ascendancy. We have heard a great deal of the machinations of infidelity, and of the infamous schemes of demagogues to overturn the existing order of things, in these governments, but scarcely a whisper has been breathed against the plots and inexcusable agencies that are universally attributed to the friends of despotism and aristocracy, by the friends of liberty. Little accustomed to think for ourselves, and with a corrupt and interested press, we have lent greedy ears to _ex-parte_ testimony, and, ready enough to oppose the principles of the Age of Reason and of the Illuminati, we have overlooked the essential circumstance that they are merely the reaction of extreme abuses, and that the root of the evil lies deeper than the disgusting excesses which have been so zealously paraded before our eyes. I can know no more of the past than what I hear; but the fairest minded men of France have assured me of their deep conviction, that the machinations of their enemies were principally instrumental in bringing about the horrors of their own revolution. No one pretends that it is unnatural for those who have been ruthlessly depressed, to break out in acts of violence when suddenly released, but they believe that agents were employed to excite these passions to fury, and that, finding it impossible to stay the torrent of revolution by resistance, the privileged here, directed their schemes to bringing it into disrepute, by inciting the people to acts that would be certain to offend humanity. One anecdote related to me by General Lafayette, in person, I consider so remarkable that it shall be repeated, substituting, however, initials of names that do not apply to those that were actually mentioned, as some of the parties are still living. I select this anecdote from a hundred, because I so well know the integrity of the party from whom it is derived, that I feel confident there is no exaggeration or colouring in the account, and because it is, fortunately, in my power to prove that I had it from General Lafayette, almost in the words in which it is given to you.

We were conversing on the subject of the probable agency of the monarchs and aristocrats of Europe, in bringing about the excesses of the revolution. “Count N—— was in England during the peace of Amiens,” said our venerable friend, “and he dined with Lord G——, one of Mr. Pitt’s cabinet. They were standing together at a window of the drawing-room, when Lord G—— pointed to a window of a house at a little distance, and said “that is the window of the room in which F—— lodged, when in England.” “F——,” exclaimed Count N——, “what can you know, my Lord, of such a man as F——!” The English minister smiled significantly, and replied “why, _we sent him to France_.”

By substituting for “Count N——” the name of a Frenchman who has been a minister under nearly every government in France for the last forty years, and whose private and public character is one of the best of that country; for that of Lord G——, a well-known English statesman; and that of F——, one of the greatest monsters to which the Reign of Terror gave birth, you will have the story almost in the words in which it was related to me by General Lafayette, who told me he had it from Count N——, himself.

Had this anecdote appeared in one of the newspaper comments of the day, I should think less of it, but coming as it did, from a distinguished Frenchman, and he of better reputation than most of the politicians of the period, to a man like Lafayette, who is so perfectly free from the vice of attributing base motives to even his enemies, and this in a free and friendly conversation, with no apparent reason to misrepresent, I confess it has struck me as worthy of more than ordinary consideration.

When we remember how natural it is to employ the most obvious agencies in effecting our objects, one is not to be surprised that the scheme of pushing the popular feelings into extremes, should suggest itself, on such an occasion; and, as for any restraint imposed by principles, men are so apt to shift a divided responsibility from their own shoulders to those of their associates, so ready to look for justification in the end, and always so much disposed, in politics, to consider “_une faute_” more heinous than “_un crime_,” that I have no difficulty in believing the story, on the score of any moral scruples in the parties. The avowal might cause surprise, but it was two old soldiers talking over the different _ruses_ of their late campaigns, and surprising things of the sort leak out in this way.

Mr. Huskisson was a student of medicine in Paris, at the commencement of the French revolution. The French openly accuse him of having worn the _bonnet rouge_, and of having belonged to the most exaggerated of the Jacobins. They add that he was suddenly lost sight of, and when next seen was in the employment of the British government. All this may be true, however, and still no more than a natural consequence of youth and inexperience. Had Mr. Huskisson been less equivocal in his commercial ethics, and more consistent with his own avowed principles, the circumstance would not have much weight with me, for nothing is more natural than for a young mind to be carried away by sentiments that appear to be generous; but I hold it to be a pretty safe rule that the man who is jesuitical on any one fact, is to be distrusted on all others. That Mr. Huskisson is self-contradicted and insincere in his Free Trade doctrines, is as obvious as any moral truth I know.

But, admitting that both these tales are idle, it would be folly for an American to shut his eyes to the confidence with which even the women, here, speak of the dismemberment of the Union. This is the point to which our enemies will be certain to direct their machinations; and if we wish “to calculate its value” to ourselves, we have only to regard the importance that is attached to it, by our enemies. You will judge of my surprise, when a young girl, under twenty years, told me very cooly, in answer to some pleasantry that had passed between us, on the subject of national power, “Oh, but your Union will soon be dissolved!”

Mr. Cobbett, who, though any thing but authority in matters of fact, is a shrewd thinker, and is accustomed to appreciate the means and agencies of states, has just declared in his journal, that, unless we abandon the protective policy, England ought to manifest her real power, and “blow their boasted Union to the winds.” Here we have a specimen of the ethics as well of the means employed, in such matters, by politicians. Unless we abandon a legitimate policy of our own, the social firebrand is to be lighted in our bosom! This savours strongly of the principles contained in the anecdote of General Lafayette. It will be said, however, that Mr. Cobbett is authority for nothing. But other journals have said, in substance, the same thing, and, I think, such is the tone of most political men, here. I have said that we overrate our security. A people, as much in the habit of looking to another nation for opinions, as our own, cannot be otherwise than dependent, to a certain degree, on the mercy of those who give them their impulses. No one can deny that we receive from England a vast deal that is excellent and useful, and it will be the cue of those who wish to influence us to our own injury, to mix their poison so artfully with this wholesome nutriment, that the two shall be swallowed together. Coupled with the most inflated boastings about American literature, in the journals, we may constantly see statements that such and such a work is republished in England, or has gone to a second edition in this country, as the highest eulogium that can be given. Much the greater proportion of our writers still manifest a dependance on English opinion, a dread of its censure, and a desire to secure its favour, in a way that cannot easily be mistaken. God forbid! that any one should indulge in the low calumnies that mark equally ignorance and vulgarity; but it is painful to see the truckling manner in which flattery and homage are interwoven in so many of our works, with a manifest design to secure the favour of a people, who do not care to conceal their contempt. In my own case, how often have I had occasion to see the influence of this spirit, by having it tauntingly thrown into my teeth that such and such abuse has appeared in some English journal—perhaps such and such a puff, by way of flattery! There is not an American writer, at this moment, who does not lie at the mercy of the English critics, should they consider him of sufficient importance to notice; and there are symptoms that this country begins to think seriously, if indeed it has not long thought, of influencing the reputation of our political men. That such are their own opinions of their own power is sufficiently manifest, for they openly boast of it in the newspapers. Obvious attempts are made to influence opinion even in France, a country that is singularly deaf to foreign impressions; and if they can excite a comment in France, they can convulse America.

In regarding this subject, the feelings and dispositions of the English nation are to be kept out of sight; for the human impulses of bodies of men are of no account in the control of interests like these: they who move the wires are behind the scenes, and the mass here, like the mass at home, is wrought on in a way that is perceptible only to the vigilant and the observing. But it is a humiliating fact, accompanying these circumstances, that the English see their influence, and deride us for it, even while they exercise it.

Some peculiarities of a physical nature serve to aid foreigners in perpetuating their power over the American mind. The population is so diffused, that, unless in cases which excite local interest, there is no opinion sufficiently strong to cope with that which is formed in the towns, and these towns, particularly those of the most influence, are quite as much foreign as American. A large portion of even the presses, in the seaports, are directly controlled by men who were born British subjects, and it is a peculiarity about these people, scarcely ever to forget their origin. There is an infatuation in America, on this subject, that one who stands aloof, can hardly credit. Still, when we come to look into all the causes, it can scarcely create surprise that the writers of the nation, look as much to foreign as to native approbation, that the diplomatists court their enemies, instead of their friends, and that public opinion is constantly influenced by interests and rights adverse to our own.

God knows, what is to be the final result. We may grow out of this weakness, as children get the better of the rickets; or we may succumb to the disease, as children often do. There is little use, however, in treating it with an overstrained delicacy, for it is the school of sentimentalists that has aggravated the disease to its present dangerous extent, and nothing will be so apt to cure it, besides time, as a little caustic, properly applied. I very well know, it is said, that the war of 1812, liberated the American mind from its ancient thraldom, and for a time it did; so did the war of the revolution; but no sooner did things, in both instances, revert back to their ancient channels, than the habits of thought appear to have kept them company. We have gained a little, permanently, beyond a question. No one thinks now, that a British frigate has only to say, “boh!” to an American frigate, to cause her to strike her flag; but this very point of manhood in the field, will prove the tendency to drop back into the old train of thinking, for, in despite of all the experience of 1776, thousands and tens of thousands of native citizens, believed we could not resist the English, when war was declared in 1812, either ashore or afloat! I do not mean, that they believed the power of America could not resist the power of England, but that the man of America could not fight the man of England; for to this had the uninterrupted practice of reading the English accounts of themselves, brought the state of public opinion. As no nation has shown a better spirit in the field, when actually called on to serve, does not this fact prove how completely courage is a matter of convention, and how necessary it is to guard all the habits of thought?

There is a feature of English jealousy, that strikes me as particularly odd. Every one reasons here, as if our government is always to be distrusted on account of its tendency to be driven into wars, by the truculent spirit of the democracy! I should say this notion haunts the English imagination, on the subject of America, though it would be difficult to give a good reason for it. The war of 1812, probably took our enemy by surprise, but it could not have been because the people of America rushed into it with precipitation, but because they had forborne so long as to remove every apprehension of their appealing to force at all. There is a professed distrust of General Jackson on this account. They think, or affect to think, that being a soldier, he will profit by the elements of democracy, and bring on a war of conquest, with a view to his own glory and tastes. Some do not hesitate to say, that he will then aim at a crown, like Napoleon![18]

LETTER XXVIII.

TO RICHARD COOPER, ESQUIRE, COOPERSTOWN, NEW YORK.

It would be an occupation of interest, to note the changes, moral and physical, that time, climate, and different institutions, have produced between the people of England, and those of America.