CHAPTER I. CHAPTER I. 
"Talent and worth are the only eternal grounds of distinction. To these the Almighty has affixed his everlasting patent of nobllity, and these it is which make the bright, 'the immortal names,' to which our children may aspire, as well as others. It will be our own fault if, in our own land, society as wel1 as government is not organised upon a new foundation."
Miss Sedgwick.
It is true that it is better to live for honour than forwealth: but how much better, depends upon the idea of honour.Where truth and justice are more than hollow words, the idea ofhonour is such as to exclude all fear, except of wrong-doing.Where the honour is to be derived from present humanopinion, there must be fear, ever present, and perpetuallyexciting to or withholding from action. In such a case, aspainful a bondage is incurred as in the pursuit of wealth. Ifriches take to themselves wings, and fly away, so doespopularity. If rich freights are in danger afar off from storms,and harvests at home from blights, so is reputation, fromdifferences of opinion, and varieties of views and tempers. Ifall that moralists have written, and wise men have testified,about the vanity and misery of depending on human applause betrue, there can be no true freedom in communities, any more thanfor individuals, who live to opinion. The time will come when theAmericans also will testify to this, as a nation, as manyindividual members of their society have done already. The timewill come when they will be astonished to discover how they martheir own privileges by allowing themselves less liberty ofspeech and action than is enjoyed by the inhabitants of countrieswhose political servitude the Americans justly compassionate anddespise.
This regard to opinion shows itself under various forms indifferent parts of the country, and under dissimilar socialarrangements. In the south, where the labour itself is capital,and labour cannot therefore be regarded with due respect, thereis much vanity of retinue, much extravagnce, from fear of theimputation of poverty which would follow upon retrenchment; andgreat recklessness of life, from fear of the imputation ofcowardice which might follow upon forgiveness of injuries. Fearof imputation is here the panic, under which men relinquish theirfreedom of action and speech. In the north, society has beenenabled, chiefly by the religious influence which has descendedfrom the fathers, to surmount, in some degree, this low kind offear, so far as it shows itself in recklessness of life: but notaltogether. I was amazed to hear a gentleman of New Englanddeclare, while complaining of the insolence of the southernmembers of Congress to the northern, under shelter of thenorthern men not being duellists, that, if he went to Congress,he would give out that he would fight. I do not believe that hewould actually have proved himself so far behind the society towhich he belonged as to have adopted a bad practice which it hadoutgrown,--adopted it from that very fear of imputation which hedespised in the south; but the impulse under which he spoketestified to the danger of a fear of opinion taking any form,however low, when it exists under any other.
When I was at Philadelphia, a shocking incident happened in afamily with which I was acquainted. The only son, a fine youth ofnineteen, was insulted by a fellow-student. His father and uncleconsulted what must be done; and actually sent the young man outto fight the person who had insulted him: the mother being awareof it, and praying that if either fell, it might be her son. Sheno doubt felt in her true heart, that it would be better to diethan to murder another from the selfish fear of imputation. Thefirst aggressor lost a finger; and there, it was said, the matterended. But the matter has not ended yet, nor will end; for theyoung man has had a lesson of low selfishness, of moral cowardiceimpressed upon him by the guardians of his youth, with a forcewhich he is not likely to surmount: and the society in which helives has seen the strongest testimony to false principles borneby two of its most respected members.
Not by any means as a fair specimen of society, but as anexample of what kind of honour may be enjoyed where the fear ofimputation is at its height, I give the description, as it wasgiven me by a resident, of what a man may do in an eminentlyduelling portion of the southern country. "A man may killanother, and be no worse. He may be shabby in his moneytransactions, but may not steal. He may game, but not keep agaming-house." It will not do for the duellists of the southto drop in conversation, as they do, that good manners can existonly where vengeance is the penalty of bad. The fear ofimputation and the dread of vengeance are at least ascontemptible as bad manners; and unquestionably lower than thefear of opinion prevalent in the north.
In the north there can be little vanity of retinue, as retinueis not to be had: but there is, instead of it, much ostentationof wealth, in the commercial cities. It is here that thearistocracy form and collect; and, as has been before said, thearistocratic is universally the fearing, while the democratic isthe hoping, party. The fear of opinion takes many forms. There isfear of vulgarity, fear of responsibility; and above all, fear ofsingularity. There is something more displeasing, at the firstview, in the caution of the Yankees than in the recklessness ofthe cavalier race of the south. Till the individual exceptionscome out from the mass; till the domestic frankness andgenerosity of the whole people are apparent, there is somethinglittle short of disgusting to the stranger who has been unused towitness such want of social confidence, in the caution whichpresents probably the strongest aspect of selfishness that he hasever seen.
The Americans of the northern States are, from education andhabit, so accustomed to the caution of which I speak, as to beunaware of its extent and singularity. They think themselvesinjured by the remarks which strangers make upon it, and by theridicule with which it is treated by their own countrymen whohave travelled abroad. But the singularity is in themselves. Theymay travel over the world, and find no society but their ownwhich will submit to the restraint of perpetual caution, andreference to the opinions of others. They may travel over thewhole world, and find no country but their own where the verychildren beware of getting into scrapes, and talk of the effectof actions upon people's minds; where the youth of societydetermine in silence what opinions they shall bring forward, andwhat avow only in the family circle; where women write miserableletters, almost universally, because it is a settled matter thatit is unsafe to commit oneself on paper; and where elderly peopleseem to lack almost universally that faith in principles whichinspires a free expression of them at any time, and under allcircumstances.
"Mrs. B.," said a child of eleven to a friend ofmine, "what church do you go to?"--" To Mr.------'s." "O, Mrs. B. are you a Unitarian?"--"No." "Then why do you go to thatchurch?"--"Because I can worship best there.""O, but Mrs. B., think of the example,--the example, Mrs.B.!"
When I had been in the country some time, I remarked to onewho knew well the society in which he lived, that I had not seena good lady's letter since I landed; though the conversation ofsome of the writers was of a very superior kind. The letters wereuniformly poor and guarded in expression, confined tocommon-places, and overloaded with flattery. "Thereare," replied he, "no good letters written in America.The force of public opinion is so strong, and the danger ofpublicity so great, that men do not write what they think, forfear of getting into bad hands: and this acts again upon thewomen, and makes their style artificial." It is not quitetrue that there are no good letters written in America: among myown circle of correspondents there, there are ladies andgentlemen whose letters would stand a comparison with any forfrankness, grace, and epistolary beauty of every kind. But I amnot aware of any medium between this excellence and theboarding-school insignificance which characterises the rest.
When the stranger has recovered a little from the firstdisagreeable impression of all this caution, he naturally askswhat there can be to render it worth while. To this question, Inever could discover a satisfactory answer. What harm the"force of public opinion," or "publicity,"can do to any individual; what injury "bad hands" caninflict upon a good man or woman, which can be compared with theevil of living in perpetual caution, I cannot imagine. If men andwomen cannot bear blame, they had better hew out a space forthemselves in the forest, and live there, as the only safe place.If they are afraid of observation and comment, they shouldwithdraw from society altogether: for the interest whichhuman beings take in each other is so deep and universal, thatobservation and comment are unavoidable wherever there are eyesto see, and hearts and minds to yearn and speculate. An honestman will not naturally fear this investigation. If he is not sureof his opinions on any matter, he will say so, and endeavour togain light. If he is sure, he will speak them, and be ready toavow the grounds of them, as occasion arises. That there shouldbe some who think his opinions false and dangerous is notpleasant; but it is an evil too trifling to be mentioned incomparison with the bondage of concealment, and the torment offear. This bondage, this torment is worse than the worst that the"force of public opinion" can inflict, even if suchforce should close the prospect of political advancement, ofprofessional eminence, and of the best of social privileges.There are some members of society in America who have foundpersecution, excommunication, and violence, more endurable thanthe concealment of their convictions.
Few persons really doubt this when the plain case is set downbefore them. They agree to it in church on Sundays, and inconversation by the fireside: and the reason why they are sobackward as they are to act upon it in the world, is that habitand education are too strong for them. They have worn theirchains so long that they feel them less than might be supposed. Idoubt whether they can even conceive of a state of society, ofits ease and comfort, where no man fears his neighbour, and it isno evil to be responsible for one's opinions: where men, knowinghow undiscernible consequences are, and how harmless they must beto the upright, abide them without fear, and do not perplexthemselves with calculating what is incalculable. Whenever thetime shall come for the Americans to discover all this, toperceive how miserable a restraint they have imposed uponthemselves by this servitude to opinion, they will see how it isthat, while outwardly blessed beyond all parallel, they have beenno happier than the rest of the world. I doubt whether, among thelarge "uneasy classes" of the Old World, there is somuch heart-eating care, so much nervous anxiety, as among thedwellers in the towns of the northern States of America, fromthis cause alone. If I had to choose, I would rather endure theinvoluntary uneasiness of the Old World sufferers, than theself-imposed anxiety of those of the New: except that theself-imposed suffering may be shaken off at any moment. There areinstances, few, but striking, of strong-minded persons who havediscovered and are practicing the true philosophy of ease; whohave openly taken their stand upon principles, and are preparedfor all consequences, meekly and cheerfully defying all possibleinflictions of opinion. Though it does not enter into theircalculations, such may possibly find that they are enjoying more,and suffering less from opinion, than those who most daintilycourt it.
There would be something amusing in observing the operation ofthis habit of caution, if it were not too serious a misfortune.When Dr. Channing's work on Slavery came out, the followingconversation passed between a lady of Boston and myself. Shebegan it with--
"Have you seen Dr. Channing's book?"
"Yes. Have you?"
"O no. Do not you think it very ill-timed?"
"No; I think it well-timed; as it did not come outsooner."
"But is it not wrong to increase the public excitement atsuch a time?"
"That depends upon the nature of the excitement. But thisbook seems to have a tranquillising effect: as the exhibition oftrue principles generally has."
"But Dr. Channing is not a practical man. He is only aretired student. He has no real interest in the matter."
"No worldly interest; and this, and his seclusion, enablehim to see more clearly than others, in a case where principlesenlighten men, and practice seems only to blindthem."
"Well: I shall certainly read the book, as you like it somuch."
"Pray don't, if that is your reason."
A reply to Dr. Channing's book soon appeared;-- a pamphletwhich savoured only of fear, dollars, and, consequently, insult.A gentleman of Boston, who had, on some important occasions,shown that he could exercise a high moral courage, made nomention of this reply for some time after it appeared. At length,on hearing another person speak of it as it deserved, he said,"Now people are so openly speaking of that reply, I have noobjection to say what I think of it. I have held my tongue aboutit hitherto; but yesterday I heard--speak of it as you do; and Ino longer hesitate to declare that I think it an infamousproduction."
It may be said that such are remarkable cases. Be it so: theystill testify to the habit of society, by the direction which thecaution takes. Elsewhere, the parties might be quite as muchafraid of something else; but they would not dream of refrainingfrom a good book, or holding their tongues about the badness of avicious pamphlet, till supported by the opinions of others.
How strong a contrast to all this the domestic life of theAmericans presents will appear when I come to speak of the spiritof intercourse. It is an individual, though prevalent,selfishness that I have now been lamenting.
The traveller should go into the west when he desires to seeuniversal freedom of manners. The people of the west have acomfortable self-complacency, equally different from thearrogance of the south, and the timidity of the north. They seemto unite with this the hospitality which distinguishes the wholecountry: so that they are, on the whole, a very bewitchingpeople. Their self-confidence probably arises from their beingreally remarkably energetic, and having testified this by theconquests over nature which their mere settlement in the westevinces. They are tbe freest people I saw in America: andaccordingly one enjoys among them a delightful exemption from thesorrow and indignation which worldly caution always inspires; andfrom flattery. If the stranger finds himself flattered in tbewest, he may pretty safely conclude that the person he is talkingwith comes from New England. "We are apt to think,"said a westerner to me, "that however great and good anotherperson may be, we are just as great and good." Accordingly,intercourse goes on without any reference whatever to the meritsof the respective parties. In the sunshine of complacency, theirfree thoughts ripen into free deeds, and the world gains largely.There are, naturally, instances of extreme conceit, here andthere: but I do not hesitate to avow that, prevalent asmock-modesty and moral cowardice are in the present condition ofsociety, that degree of self-confidence which is commonly calledconceit grows in favour with me perpetually. An over-estimate ofself appears to me a far less hurtful and disagreeable mistakethan the idolatry of opinion. It is a mistake which is sure to berectified, sooner or later; and very often, it proves to be nomistake where small critics feel the most confident that they maysafely ridicule it. The event decides this matter ofself-estimate, beyond all question; and while the event remainsundisclosed, it is easy and pleasant to give men credit for asmuch as they believe themselves to be capable of:--more easy audpleasant than to see men restricting their own powers by suchcalculation of consequences as implies an equal want of faith inothers and in themselves. If John Milton were now here to avowhis hope that he should produce that which "the world wouldnot willingly let die," what a shout there would be of"the conceited fellow!" while, the declaration havingbeen made venerable by the event, it is now cited as an instanceof the noble self-confidence of genius.
The people of the west have a right to so much self-confidenceas arises from an ascertainment of what they can actuallyachieve. They come from afar, with some qualities which haveforce enough to guide them into a new region. They subduethis region to their own purposes; and, if they do often forgetthat the world elsewhere is progressing; if tbey do supposethemselves as relatively great in present society as they wereformerly in the wilderness, it should be remembered, on theirbehalf, that they have effectually asserted their manhood in theconquest of circumstances.
If we are not yet to see, except in individual instances, theexquisite union of fearlessness with modesty, of self-confidencewith meekness;--if there must be either the love of being grandin one's own eyes, or tbe fear of being little in otherpeople's,--the friends of the Americans would wish that theirerror should be that which is allied to too much, rather shalltoo little freedom.
As for the anxiety about foreign opinions of America, I foundit less striking than I expected. In the south, there is thekeenest sensibility to the opinion of the world about slavery;and in New England, the veneration for England is greater than Ithink any one people ought to feel for any other. The love of themother country, the filial pride in her ancient sages, arenatural and honourable: and so, perhaps, is a somewhat exalteddegree of deference for the existing dwellers upon the soil ofthat mother country, and on the spot where those sages lived andthought and spoke. But, as long as no civilised nation is, or canbe ascertained to be, far superior or inferior to any other; asthe human heart and human life are generally alike and equal, onthis side barbarism, the excessive reverence with which Englandis regarded by the Americans seems to imply a deficiency ofself-respect. This is an immeasurably higher and more healthystate of feeling than that which has been exhibited by a smallportion of the English towards the Americans;--the contemptwhich, again, a sprinkling of Americans have striven toreciprocate. But the despisers in each nation, though so noisy asto produce some effect, are so few as to need no more than apassing allusion. If any English person can really see and knowthe Americans on their own ground, and fail to honour them as anation, and love them as personal friends, he is no fair sampleof tbe people whose name he bears; and is probably incapable ofunperverted reverence: and if any American, having really seenand known the English on thoir own ground, does not reverence hisown home exactly in proportion as he loves what is best in theEnglish, he is unworthy of his home.
When I was on my voyage out, the Americans on board amusedthemselves with describing to me how incessantly I should be metby the question how I liked America. When we arrived within a fewmiles of New York, a steam-boat met us, bringing the friends ofsome of the passengers. On board this steam-boat, the passengerswent up to the city. It happened to be the smallest, dirtiest,and most clumsy steamer belonging to the port. A splashingrain drove us down into the cabin, where there was barelystanding room for our company. We saw each other's faces by thedim light of a single shabby lamp. "Now, Miss M." saidsome of the American passengers, "how do you likeAmerica?" This was the first time of my being asked thequestion which I have had to answer almost daily since. Yet I donot believe that many of my interrogators seriously cared anymore for my answer than those who first put the question in thedirty cabin; or than my little friend Charley who soon caught thejoke, and with grave face, asked me, every now and then,"How do you like this country?" I learned to regard itas a method of beginning conversation, like our meteorologicalobservations in England; which are equally amusing to foreigners.My own impression is, that while the Americans have too exalted anotion of England, and too little self-respect as a nation, theyare far less anxious about foreign opinions of themselves thanthe behaviour of American travellers in England would lead theEnglish to suppose. The anxiety arises on English ground. Athome, the generality of Amerieans seem to see clearly enough thatit is yet truer with regard to nations than individuals that,though it is very pleasant to have the favourable opinion ofone's neighbours, yet, if one is good and happy within oneself,the rest does not much matter. I met with a few who spoke with adisgusting affectation of candour, (some, as if they expected toplease me thereby, and others under the influence of sectionalprejudice,) of what they called the fairness of the grossslanders with which they have been insulted through the Englishpress: but I was thankful to meet with more who did notacknowledge the jurisdiction of observers disqualified byprejudice, or by something worse, for passing judgment on anation.
The irritability of their vanity has been much exaggerated,partly- to serve paltry purposes of authorship; and yet more fromthe ridiculous exhibitions of some Americans in England, who areno more to be taken as specimens of the nation to which theybelong than a young Englishman who, when I was at New York, wentup the Hudson in a drizzling rain, pronounced that West Point wasnot so pretty as Richmond; descended the river in the dark, anddeclarecl on his return that the Americans were wonderfully proudof scenery that was nothing partioular in any way.
It will be well for the Americans, particularly those of theeast and south, when their idea of honour becomes asexalted as that which inspired their revolutionary ancestors.Whenever they possess themselves of the idea of their democracy,as it was possessed by their statesmen of 1801, they willmoderate their homage of human opinion, and enhance their worshipof humanity. Not till then will they live up to theirinstitutions, and enjoy that internal freedom and peace to whichthe external are but a part of the means. In such improvement,they will be much assisted by the increasing intercourse betweenBritain and America; for, however fascinating to Americans may bethe luxury, conversational freedom, and high intellectualcultivation of some portions of English society, they cannot failto be disgusted with the aristocratic insolence which is the viceof the whole. The puerile and barbaric spirit of contempt isscarcely known in America: the English insolence of class toclass, of individuals towards each other, is not even conceivedof, except in the one highly disgraceful instance of thetreatment of the people of colour. Nothing in Americancivilisation struck me so forcibly and so pleasurably as theinvariable respect paid to man, as man. Nothing since my returnto England has given me so much pain as the contrast there.Perhaps no Englishman can become fully aware, without going toAmerica, of the atmosphere of insolence in which he dwells; ofthe taint of contempt which infects all the intercourses of hisworld. He cannot imagine how all that he can say that is truestand best about the treatment of people of colour in America isneutralised on the spot, by its being understood how the samecontempt is splead over the whole of society here, which is thereconcentrated upon the blacks.
From Harriet Martineau, Society in America, VolumeIII, Part III, Chapter I - "Idea of Honour." London:Saunders and Otley, 1837, pp. 10-28.
Forward to Society in America, VolumeIII, Part III, Chapter I, Section I - " Caste."
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