Part 17

The English themselves are apt to attribute the latter expedient to a creditable feeling in the nation, which invites, by its moral sense, exposures of this nature. The reasoning may be true in part, or it is true up to the level of the dogmas of the decency-and-seemliness school which the system has created, but it is flagrantly false when viewed on pure Christian principles. Coupled with the grossness of language, the personalities, the vindictiveness and the obvious deformities of hostility and art, with which these attacks are usually made, nothing can be more inherently offensive to the feelings of those, of whom the “chiefest virtue” is charity. But we need no better proof that the whole is the result of a factitious state of things, in which a parade of morals is made to serve an end, than the fact, that, while every man who shows a generous mind is peculiarly obnoxious to be accused of vice, they who are notorious for their misdeeds are not only overlooked, but spoken of in terms of reverence, if they happen to belong to the dominant party. You will understand me; I am not now speaking of the common party abuse, which varies with events, but of a deliberate and systematic method of vituperation, by means of which the idea of liberalism in politics has become associated in the public mind, with irreligion, libertinism, pecuniary dishonesty, and, in short, with a general want of moral principle. As a consequence, men habitually, think of Mr. A——, or Sir George B——, or Lord C——, as persons to be condemned for their sins, though the very vices of which they are accused are openly practised by half the favourites and leaders of the other side, with impunity as regards the public. I can quote to you the instance of Washington, who was accused of being an unprincipled adventurer, at the commencement of the revolution, as a case in point; and I dare say your own scrupulous and pious father, passed for a fellow no better than he should be, with a majority of the well-intentioned English of that day.

It seems to me that there is a singular conformity between English opinion and the English institutions. The liberty of the country consists in franchises, which secures a certain amount of personal rights, and not in a broad system, which shall insure the control of numbers. As individuals, I am inclined to think the English (meaning those who are easy in their circumstances) do more as they please than any other people on earth; while the moment they begin to think and act collectively, I know no nation in which the public mind is so much influenced by factitious and arbitrary rules. Something like the very converse of this exists with us.

I have little to say about the influence which the aristocracy possess through the deference of their inferiors. Strange as it may seem, the subordinate classes take a sort of pride in them. Such a feeling can only have arisen from the depression of the less fortunate, and it is quite plain has gathered no small part of its intensity from any thing but that knowledge which leaves “no man a hero with his _valet-de-chambre_.” It exists to a singular degree, in despite of all the bluster about liberty, and I can safely say that I never yet knew an Englishman, I care not of what degree of talents, who did not appreciate the merits of a nobleman, to a certain extent, by his rank, unless he lived in free and constant communion with men of rank himself. I have found the nobles of England, certainly, as I have already told you, but it has often puzzled me to discover the aristocratic mien, the aristocratic ears, aristocratic fingers, aristocratic nails, and aristocratic feet that these people talk and write so much about. I have been often led to think of that _jeu d’esprit_ of Hopkinson, where he says

“The _rebel_ vales, the _rebel_ dales, With _rebel_ trees surrounded, The distant woods, the hills and floods, With _rebel_ echoes sounded,”

in reading of these marvels. I need scarcely tell you that an English nobleman is morally much as the highest gentleman of a great and polished empire might be supposed to be, and in physical formation very like other men. His ears may, occasionally, be a little more obvious than common, but he possesses no immunity by which they can be made smaller than those of all around him.

I think this feeling of deference, however, is so interwoven with all the habits of thought and reasoning of the nation, that its _prestige_ will long confer an advantage on the nobles of England, unless the torrent of change, by being unnaturally and unwisely dammed, gain so much head as to sweep all before it.

There is no great princely nobility in England, like that which exists on the continent of Europe, and which, royal personages in fact curtailed of their power by the events of this and of past ages, is still deemed worthy of forming royal alliances. In blood, modern alliances, and antiquity, the English nobles, as a class, rank among the lowest of Europe, their importance being owing to the peculiarity of their political connexion with one of the first, if not the very first state of Christendom. I do not know that their private wealth at all surpasses that of the great nobles of the continent, those of France excepted; although there is no inferior nobility here, as there, the younger sons sinking at once into the class of commoners. When the Howards of the fifteenth century were just emerging from obscurity, the Guzmans, the Radziuils, the Arembergs, and hundreds of other houses were sinking from the rank of princes into that of their present condition. The ancestors of Talleyrand were deprived of their possessions as sovereign counts, a century before the first Howard was ennobled. As to the ancient baronies that figure among the titles of the English, they are derived from a class of men who would have been followers, and not the equals, of the Guzmans and Perigords, five centuries since. There appear to me to be two errors prevalent on this subject; that of overrating the relative importance and antiquity of the nobility of England, (except when viewed as a political aristocracy, or since the revolution of 1688) and that of underrating the true condition of the English gentry. All this is not of much importance, though I was lately told of a German princess who spoke of a marriage with the House of Hanover, as a _mésalliance_!

END OF VOL. I.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This was in 1828; at the return of the writer to England, in 1833, there was a gallery in the House of Lords, and it is hardly necessary to say, that, since that time, both houses have been burnt.

[2] Esquires were formerly created by patent.

[3] A little of this feeling is getting up in Paris, under the new order of things, which favour the pretensions of money, but France is in the transition state, and it is too soon to predict the result.

[4] In consequence of the delay in publishing these “gleanings,” the writer is often doubtful whether he ought to indulge such prophecies. These words, however, were actually written in 1828.

[5] This lady is just dead, in her ninety-ninth year.

[6] George III. was born in this house. See Wraxall.

[7] Now Sutherland-house; the Marquis of Stafford having been raised to the rank of Duke of Sutherland.

[8] Mr. Washington Alston was once asked, “what is a scirocco?” The celebrated painter pithily described it, as a “Boston east-wind BOILED.” It is a great advantage to be able to take the spring weather of London _raw_; and raw enough it is, of a verity.

[9] Sir Nicholas Wraxall, in his Posthumous Memoirs of his Own Times, has probably given the true version of this tale. A person of the name of Philipps was denied a request to have a carriage-road from the park to his door, and to soften the refusal, Mr. Pitt offered him an Irish peerage, which he accepted. One hears of many grounds for an _illustration_, but this is the queerest on record; that of ennobling a man “because a carriage-sweep may not be made between St. James’s Park and his door!—_Comme vous violà bâti!_”

[10] Jack was shortly after made Chancellor of the Exchequer.

[11] “Decoration” is the proper word, I believe, for the badges of an order; the French, however, frequently term them _crachats_, or _le crachat du roi_, the king’s spittle!

[12] _Je la revois enfin, et rien n’y est changé, si ce n’est qu’il s’y trouve un Français de plus._

[13] 1828.

[14] Coupling this conversation with subsequent knowledge, the writer has been induced to think that Sir Walter Scott, at that time, was not aware of the extent of his own liabilities. He mentioned a sum that was greatly short of that reported to be due, soon after his death, and which held an equitable lien on the estate of Abbotsford.

[15] A man who has since filled one of the highest offices under the French government.

[16] The writer had a ludicrous specimen of this feeling, at a later day, in Italy. An English minister’s wife gave a great ball, and applications were constantly made for tickets. As the town was small, this ball made a great sensation, and every one was talking of it. It was no great sacrifice for the family of the writer to preserve their self-respect on this occasion, as they lived retired from choice. Hints began to be thrown out, and questions asked if they had yet _procured_ tickets. At eight o’clock of the very night of the entertainment, these important tickets arrived _unasked_! Of course, no notice was taken of them. It will be remembered that all this dog-in-the-manger_ism_ had nothing to do with the customs of the country in which the parties were, it being usual for the natives to give their guests more than two hours’ notice, when they wished to see them at balls. This social _convoitise_ on one side, and coquetry on the other, distinguish the English circles all over Europe.

[17] This arrangement was subsequently changed.

[18] Even in the parliament of 1832, I find no less than seventy-four of the _eldest_ sons and _heirs_ of peers, sitting as commoners. Among them are Lords Surrey, Tavistock, Worcester, Douro, Graham, Mandeville, and Chandos. All of whom are the eldest sons of Dukes. In the parliament of 1830, were also Lords Seymour, Euston, and Blandford, of the same rank.

[19] Just before the writer left England, the Lords threw out the bill for the repeal of the Test Laws. Shortly after, the matter was brought up anew, and the authorities of orthodox Oxford were assembled to petition _against_ the measure. On the day of meeting, however, to the astonishment of every body, speeches were made in _favour_ of the repeal by several prominent men. Of course the petition was for repeal, for party is just as well drilled in Europe as it is with us.

A few months later, I had the whole secret explained. A leading dissenter, now a member of parliament, told me that he and his friends gave the government to understand distinctly, that if the Test Laws were not repealed, the dissenters of England would make common cause with the Catholics of Ireland, and overturn the establishment.

The following anecdote is also derived from the best authority. About the time nullification was rife in America, a gentleman, also in parliament, went from London to a dinner in the country. He found the Right Rev. Lord Bishop of ——, among the company. “What news do you bring us from town, Mr. ——?” asked the consecrated christian. “No news, my Lord.” “No news! We were told there was _good_ news.” “To what do you allude, my Lord?” “Why, we were told there is every reason to expect a speedy dissolution of the American Union.”

[20] In 1830-31, when England was menaced with revolution, the English travellers on the Continent of Europe, hurried back to their own country, to be at their posts.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.

Some hyphens in words have been silently removed, some added, when a predominant preference was found in the original book.

Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

Pg iii: ‘such an an effort’ replaced by ‘such an effort’. Pg 13: ‘the _gensdarmes_’ replaced by ‘the _gendarmes_’. Pg 48: ‘of his philanthopy’ replaced by ‘of his philanthropy’. Pg 69: ‘and the colonade’ replaced by ‘and the colonnade’. Pg 70: ‘the monstrocity of’ replaced by ‘the monstrosity of’. Pg 73: ‘frequently saying’ replaced by ‘frequently staying’. Pg 75: ‘of the colonades’ replaced by ‘of the colonnades’. Pg 79: ‘of their side’ replaced by ‘on their side’.

Pg 83: ‘within a forthnight’ replaced by ‘within a fortnight’. Pg 84: ‘Berkley Square’ replaced by ‘Berkeley Square’. Pg 104: ‘and _bonhommie_’ replaced by ‘and _bonhomie_’. Pg 112: ‘Berkely Square’ replaced by ‘Berkeley Square’. Pg 131: ‘staticians frequently’ replaced by ‘statisticians frequently’. Pg 131: ‘but an orignal’ replaced by ‘but an original’. Pg 135: ‘were octagenarians’ replaced by ‘were octogenarians’. Pg 135: ‘incontestible claims’ replaced by ‘incontestable claims’. Pg 139: ‘Northumbeland-house’ replaced by ‘Northumberland-house’. Pg 141: ‘Portman, Berkely’ replaced by ‘Portman, Berkeley’. Pg 148: ‘that is exhilirating’ replaced by ‘that is exhilarating’. Pg 150: ‘and a bouyancy’ replaced by ‘and a buoyancy’. Pg 151: ‘think the the taste’ replaced by ‘think the taste’. Pg 151: ‘is much covetted’ replaced by ‘is much coveted’. Pg 158: ‘all _bonhommie_’ replaced by ‘all _bonhomie_’. Pg 160: ‘_chaiss longues_’ replaced by ‘_chaises longues_’. Pg 170: ‘Berkely Square’ replaced by ‘Berkeley Square’. Pg 187: ‘English [unclear] parliament’ replaced by ‘English of parliament’. Pg 192: ‘attornies in fact’ replaced by ‘attorneys in fact’. Pg 195: ‘fate which befals’ replaced by ‘fate which befalls’. Pg 202: ‘coquetishly set’ replaced by ‘coquettishly set’. Pg 217: ‘of the _r. r. rs._’ replaced by ‘of the _r_s’. Pg 228: ‘appeared fidgetty’ replaced by ‘appeared fidgety’. Pg 230: ‘wild pidgeons’ replaced by ‘wild pigeons’. Pg 236: ‘one great resaon,’ replaced by ‘one great reason’. Pg 246: ‘rely no their’ replaced by ‘rely on their’. Pg 247: the heading ‘LETTER XIV.’ replaced by ‘LETTER XIII.’ (no text is missing but the numbering was incorrect).