Diary in America, Series Two

I have said that in the American hotels there is a parlour for the ladies to retire to: there is not one for the gentlemen, who have only the reading-room, where they stand and read the papers, which are laid out on desks, or the bar.

The bar of an American hotel is generally a very large room on the basement, fitted up very much like our gin palaces in London, not so elegant in its decorations indeed, but on the same system. A long counter runs across it, behind which stand two or three bar-keepers to wait upon the customers, and distribute the various potations, compounded from the contents of several rows of bottles behind them. Here the eye reposes on masses of pure crystal ice, large bunches of mint, decanters of every sort of wine, every variety of spirits, lemons, sugar, bitters, cigars and tobacco; it really makes one feel thirsty, even the going into a bar.[4 - Every steam-boat has its bar. The theatres, all places of public amusement, and even the capitol itself; as I have observed in my Diary.] Here you meet every body and every body meets you. Here the senator, the member of Congress, the merchant, the store-keeper, travellers from the Far West, and every other part of the country, who have come to purchase goods, all congregate.

Most of them have a cigar in their mouth, some are transacting business, others conversing, some sitting down together whispering confidentially. Here you obtain all the news, all the scandal, all the politics, and all the fun; it is this dangerous propinquity, which occasions so much intemperance. Mr Head has no bar at the Mansion-house in Philadelphia, and the consequence is, that there is no drinking, except wine at dinner; but in all the other hotels, it would appear as if they purposely allowed the frequenters no room to retire to, so that they must be driven to the bar, which is by far the most profitable part of the concern.

The consequence of the bar being the place of general resort, is, that there is an unceasing pouring out, and amalgamation of alcohol, and other compounds, from morning to late at night. To drink with a friend when you meet him is good fellowship, to drink with a stranger is politeness, and a proof of wishing to be better acquainted.

Mr A is standing at the bar, enter B. “My dear B, how are you?”—“Quite well, and you?”—“Well, what shall it be?”—“Well, I don’t care—a gin sling.”—“Two gin slings, Bar-keeper.” Touch glasses, and drink. Mr A has hardly swallowed his gin sling, and replaced his cigar, when, in comes Mr D. “A, how are you?”—“Ah! D, how goes it on with you?”—“Well, I thankey—what shall we have?”—“Well, I don’t care; I say brandy cocktail.”—“Give me another,” both drink, and the shilling is thrown down on the counter.

Then B comes up again. “A, you must allow me to introduce my friend C.”—“Mr A”—shake hands—“Most happy to make the acquaintance. I trust I shall have the pleasure of drinking—something with you?”—“With great pleasure, Mr A, I will take a julep.”—“Two juleps, Bar-keeper.”—“Mr C, your good health”—“Mr A, yours; if you should come our way, most happy to see you,”—drink.

Now, I will appeal to the Americans themselves, if this is not a fair sample of a bar-room.

They say that the English cannot settle any thing properly, without a dinner. I am sure the Americans can fix nothing, without a drink. If you meet, you drink; if you part, you drink; if you make acquaintance, you drink; if you close a bargain you drink; they quarrel in their drink, and they make it up with a drink. They drink, because it is hot; they drink because it is cold. If successful in elections, they drink and rejoice; if not, they drink and swear; they begin to drink early in the morning, they leave off late at night; they commence it early in life, and they continue it, until they soon drop into the grave. To use their own expression, the way they drink, is “quite a caution”[5 - It was not a bad idea of a man who, generally speaking, was very low-spirited, on being asked the cause, replied, that he did not know, but he thought “that he had been born with three drinks too little in him.”]. As for water, what the man said, when asked to belong to the Temperance Society, appears to be the general opinion, “it’s very good for navigation.”

So much has it become the habit to cement all friendship, and commence acquaintance by drinking, that it is a cause of serious offence to refuse, especially in a foreigner, as the Americans like to call the English. I was always willing to accommodate the Americans in this particular, as far as I could; (there at least, they will do me justice;) that at times I drank much more than I wished is certain, yet still I gave most serious offence, especially in the West, because I would not drink early in the morning, or before dinner, which is a general custom in the States, although much more prevalent in the South and West, where it is literally, “Stranger, will you drink or fight?” This refusal on my part, or rather excusing myself from drinking with all those who were introduced to me, was eventually the occasion of much disturbance and of great animosity towards me—certainly, most unreasonably, as I was introduced to at least twenty every forenoon; and had I drunk with them all, I should have been in the same state as many of them were—that is, not really sober for three or four weeks at a time.

That the constitutions of the Americans must suffer from this habit is certain; they do not, however, appear to suffer so much as we should. They say that you may always know the grave of a Virginian; as from the quantity of juleps he has drunk, mint invariably springs up where he has been buried. But the Virginians are not the greatest drinkers, by any means. I was once looking for an American, and asked a friend of his, where I should find him. “Why,” replied he, pointing to an hotel opposite, “that is his licking place, (a term borrowed from deer resorting to lick the salt:) we will see if he is there.” He was not; the bar-keeper said he had left about ten minutes. “Well, then, you had better remain here, he is certain to be back in ten more—if not sooner.” The American judged his friend rightly; in five minutes he was back again, and we had a drink together, of course.

I did not see it myself, but I was told that somewhere in Missouri, or thereabouts, west of the Mississippi, all the bars have what they term a kicking-board, it being the custom with the people who live there, instead of touching glasses when they drink together, to kick sharply with the side of the foot against the board, and that after this ceremony you are sworn friends. I have had it mentioned to me by more than one person, therefore I presume it is the case. What the origin of it is I know not, unless it intends to imply, “I’m your’s to the last kick.”

Before I finish this article on hotels, I may as well observe here that there is a custom in the United States, which I consider very demoralising to the women, which is that of taking up permanent residence in large hotels.

There are several reasons for this: one is, that people marry so very early that they cannot afford to take a house with the attendant expenses, for in America it is cheaper to live in a large hotel than to keep a house of your own; another is, the difficulty of obtaining servants, and, perhaps, the unwillingness of the women to have the fatigue and annoyance which is really occasioned by an establishment in that country: added to which is the want of society, arising from their husbands being from morning to night plodding at their various avocations. At some of the principal hotels you will find the apartments of the lodgers so permanently taken, that the plate with their name engraved on it is fixed on the door. I could almost tell whether a lady in America kept own establishment or lived at an hotel, the difference of manners are so marked; and, what is worse, it is chiefly the young married couples who are to be found there. Miss Martineau makes some very just comments upon this practice:—

“The uncertainty about domestic service is so great, and the economy of boarding-house life so tempting to people who have not provided themselves with house and furniture, that it is not to be wondered at that many young married people use the accommodation provided. But no sensible husband, who could beforehand become acquainted with the liabilities incurred, would willingly expose his domestic peace to the fearful risk. I saw enough when I saw the elegantly dressed ladies repair to the windows of the common drawing-room, on their husbands’ departure to the counting-house after breakfast.

“I have been assured that there is no end to the difficulties in which gentlemen have been involved, both as to their commercial and domestic affairs, by the indiscretion of their thoughtless young wives, amidst the idleness and levities of boarding-house life. As for the gentlemen, they are much to be pitied. Public meals, a noisy house, confinement to one or two private rooms, with the absence of all gratifications of their own peculiar convenience and taste, are but a poor solace to the man of business, after the toils and cares of the day. When to these are added the snares to which their wives are exposed, it may be imagined that men of sense and refinement would rather bear with any domestic inconvenience from the uncertainty and bad quality of help, than give up housekeeping.”

If such is the case in boarding-houses, what must it be in hotels, where the male company is ever changing. It is one constant life of scandal, flirting, eating, drinking, and living in public; the sense of delicacy is destroyed, and the women remind you of the flowers that have been breathed upon till they have lost their perfume.

Miss M observes:—

“I can only say, that I unavoidably knew of more eases of lapse in highly respectable families in one State than ever came to my knowledge at home; and that they were got over with a disgrace far more temporary and superficial than they could have been visited with in England.”

If this observation is correct, it must, in my opinion, be considered as referring to that portion of the sex who live in hotels, certainly not to the mass, for reasons which I shall hereafter point out.

Indeed, what I have seen at some of the large hotels fully bears out her assertion. Miss M talks of young ladies being taken to the piano in a promiscuous company. I have seen them go to the piano without being taken there, sit down and sing with all the energy of peacocks, before total strangers, and very often without accompaniment. In the hotels, the private apartments of the boarders seldom consist of more than a large bed-room, and although company are admitted into it, still it is natural that the major portion of the women’s time should be passed down below in the general receiving room. In the evening, especially in the large western cities, they have balls almost every night; indeed it is a life of idleness and vacuity of outward pretence, but of no real good feeling.

Scandal rages—every one is busy with watching her neighbour’s affairs; those who have boarded there longest take the lead, and every newcomer or stranger is canvassed with the most severe scrutiny; their histories are ascertained, and they are very often sent to Coventry, for little better reason than the will of those who, as residents, lay down the law.

Indeed, I never witnessed a more ridiculous compound of pretended modesty, and real want of delicacy, than is to be found with this class of sojourners on the highway. Should any of their own sex arrive, of whom some little scandal has been afloat, they are up in arms, and down they plump in their rocking-chairs; and although the hotel may cover nearly an acre of ground, so afraid are they of contamination, that they declare they will not go down to dinner, or eat another meal in the hotel, until the obnoxious parties “clear out.” The proprietors are summoned, husbands are bullied, and, rather than indignant virtue should starve in her rocking-chair, a committee is formed, and the libelled parties, guilty or not guilty, are requested to leave the hotel. As soon as this purification is announced, virtue, appeased, recovers her appetite, and they all eat drink, talk scandal, flirt, and sing without invitation as before.

I have been severe upon this class of society in America, not only because I consider that it deserves it, but because I wish to point out that Miss Martineau’s observations must be considered as referring to it, and not to the general character of the American woman.

Note 1. The Americans are apt to boast that they have not to pay for civility, as we do in England, by facing waiters, coachmen, etcetera. In some respects this is true, but in the cities the custom has become very prevalent. A man who attends a large dinner-table, will of course pay more attention to those who give him something, than to those who do not; one gives him something, and another, if he wishes for attention and civility, is obliged to do the same thing. In some of the hotels at New York, and in the principal cities, you not only must fee, but you must fee much higher than you do in England, if you want to be comfortable.

Note 2. If I am rightly informed; there are very unpleasant cutaneous diseases to which the Americans are subject, from the continual use of the same brush and comb, and from sleeping together, etcetera, but it is a general custom. At Philadelphia, a large ball was given, (called, I think, the Fireman’s Ball,) and at which about 1,500 people were present, all the fashion of Philadelphia; yet even here there were six combs, and six brushes, placed in a room with six looking-glasses for the use of all the gentlemen. An American has come into my room in New York, and sans cérémonie taken up my hair-brush, and amused himself with brushing his head. They are certainly very unrefined in the toilet as yet. When I was travelling, on my arrival at a city I opened my dressing case, and a man passing by my room when the door was open, attracted by the glitter, I presume, came in and looked at the apparatus which is usually contained in such articles—“Pray, Sir,” said he, “are you a dentist?”

Note 5. In a chapter which follows this, I have said that the women of America are physically superior to the men. This may appear contradictory, as of course they could not be born so; nor are they, for I have often remarked how very fine the American male children are, especially those lads who have grown up to the age of fourteen or sixteen. One could hardly believe it possible that the men are the same youths, advanced in life. How is this to be accounted for? I can only suppose that it is from their plunging too early into life as men, having thrown off parental control, and commencing the usual excesses of young men in every country at too tender an age. The constant stimulus of drink must, of course, be another powerful cause; not that the Americans often become intoxicated, on the contrary, you will see many more in this condition every day in this country than you will in America. But occasional intoxication is not so injurious to the constitution as that continual application of spirits, which must enfeeble the stomach, and, with the assistance of tobacco, destroy its energies. The Americans are a drinking but not a drunken, nation, and, as I have before observed, the climate operates upon them very powerfully.

Volume One—Chapter Five

Emigration and Migration

In this chapter I shall confine myself to the emigration to the United States, reserving that to Canada until I remark upon that colony. In discussing this question I have no statistics to refer to, and must, therefore, confine myself to general observations.

What the amount of emigration from the Old Continent to the United States may be at present I do not think the Americans themselves can tell, as many who arrive at New York go on to the Canadas. The emigrants are, however, principally English, Irish, and German; latterly, the emigration to New South Wales, New Zealand, and particularly Texas, has reduced the influx of emigrants to the United States.

It ought to be pointed out, that among the emigrants are to be found the portion of the people in the United States the most disaffected and the most violent against England and its monarchical institutions; and who assist very much to keep up the feelings of dislike and ill-will which exist towards us. Nor is this to be wondered at; the happy and the wealthy do not go into exile; they are mostly disappointed and unhappy men, who attribute their misfortunes, often occasioned by their own imprudence, to any cause but the true one, and hate their own country and its institutions because they have been unfortunate in it. They form Utopian ideas of liberty and prosperity to be obtained by emigration; they discover that they have been deceived, and would willingly, if possible, return to the country they have abjured, and the friends they have left behind. This produces an increase of irritation and ill-will, and they become the more violent vituperative in proportion as they feel the change.[6 - I was once conversing with one who was formerly very popular with the democrats, but who was likely to be outset by another demagogue, who “went the whole hog,” down to the Agrarian system. “Captain,” said he, with his fist clenched, “I’m the very personification of democracy, but I’m out-Heroded by this fellow. The emigrants are a pack of visionaries, who don’t know what they want. The born Americans I can deal with, but with these newcomers democracy is not sufficient; they want a mobocracy, and I suppose we must have it.”—“You have it now,” replied I.—“Well, captain, I believe you’re right.”]

I have had many conversations with English emigrants in the United States, and I never yet found one at all respectable, who did not confess to me that he repented of emigration. One great cause of this is honourable to them; they feel that in common plain-dealing they are no match for the keen-witted, and I must add unprincipled, portion of the population with which they are thrown in contact. They must either sacrifice their principle or not succeed.

Many have used the same expression to me. “It is no use, sir, you must either turn regular Yankee and do as they do, or you have no chance of getting on in this country.”

These people are much to be pitied; I used to listen to them with feelings of deep compassion. Having torn themselves away from old associations, and broken the links which should have bound them to their native soil, with the expectation of finding liberty, equality, and competence in a new country, they have discovered when too late that they have not a fraction of the liberty which is enjoyed in the country which they have left; that they have severed themselves from their friends to live amongst those with whom they do not like to associate; that they must now labour with their own hands, instead of employing others; and that the competence they expected, if it is to be obtained, must be so by a sacrifice of those principles of honesty and fair-dealing imbibed in their youth, adhered to in their manhood, but which now that they have transplanted themselves, are gradually, although unwillingly, yielded up to the circumstances of their position.

I was once conversing with an Irishman; he was not very well pleased with his change; I laughed at him, and said, “But here you are free, Paddy.”—“Free?” replied he, “and pray who the devil was to buy or sell me when I was in Ireland? Free! och! that’s all talk; you’re free to work as hard as a horse, and get but little for so doing.”

The German emigrants are by far the most contented and well-behaved. They trouble themselves less about politics, associate with one another as much as possible, and when they take a farm, always, if they possibly can, get it in the neighbourhood of their own countrymen.

The emigrants most troublesome, but, at the same time, the most valuable to the United States, are the Irish. Without this class of people the Americans would not have been able to complete the canals and rail-roads, and many other important works. They are, in fact, the principal labourers of the country, for the poor Germans who come out prefer being employed in any other way than in agriculture, until they amass sufficient to obtain farms of their own. As for the Irish, there are not many of them who possess land in the United States, the major portion of them remain labourers, and die very little better off than when they went out. Some of them set up groceries (these are the most calculating and intelligent,)—and by allowing their countrymen to run in debt for liquor, etcetera, they obtain control over them, and make contracts with the government agents, or other speculators (very advantageous to themselves,) to supply so many men for public works; by these means a few acquire a great deal of money, while the many remain in comparative indigence.

We have been accustomed to ascribe the turbulence of the Irish lower classes to ill-treatment and a sense of their wrongs, but this disposition appears to follow them every where. It would be supposed that, having emigrated to America and obtained the rights of citizens, they would have amalgamated and fraternised to a certain degree with the people: but such is not the case; they hold themselves completely apart and distinct, living with their families in the same quarter of the city, and adhering to their own manners and customs. They are just as little pleased with the institutions of the United States as they are with the government at home; the fact is, that they would prefer no government at all, if (as Paddy himself would say) they knew where to find it. They are the leaders in all the political rows and commotions, and very powerful as a party in all elections, not only on account of their numbers (if I recollect rightly, they muster 40,000 at New York,) but by their violence preventing other people from coming to the poll; and, farther, by multiplying themselves, so as greatly to increase their force, by voting several times over, which they do by going from one ward to another. I was told by one of them that, on the last election he had voted seven times.[7 - I don’t know why, but there is no scrutiny of the votes in American elections, or if there be, I never heard of one being made.]

An American once said to me that the lower Irish ruled the United States, and he attempted to prove his assertion as follows:

The New York election is carried by the Irish; now the New York election has great influence upon the other elections, and often carries the State. The State of New York has great influence upon the elections of other States, and therefore the Irish of New York govern the country.—QED.

The Irish, in one point, appear to improve in the United States—they become much more provident, and many of them hoard their money. They put it into the Savings Banks, and when they have put in the sum allowed by law to one person, they deposite in other names.

A captain of one of the steam-boats told me an anecdote or two relative to the Irish emigrants, by which it would appear that they are more saving of their money than is quite consistent with honesty.

He constantly received them on board, and said that sometimes, if they were very few, they would declare at the end of the trip that they had no money, although when detained they never failed to produce it; if they were very numerous they would attempt to fight their way without paying. In one instance, an Irishman declared that he had no money, when the captain, to punish him, seized his old jacket, and insisted upon retaining it for payment. The Irishman suffered it to be taken off, expecting, it is to be presumed, that it would be returned to him as valueless, when the captain jerked it overboard. “Oh! murder!—captain, drop the boat,” cried Paddy; “pick my jacket up, or I’m a ruined man. All my money’s in it.” The jacket was fortunately picked up before it sank, and, on ripping it up, it was found to contain, sewed up in it, upwards of fifty sovereigns and gold eagles. The same captain narrated to me the particulars of one instance in which about one hundred Irish were on board, who when asked for payment, commenced an attack upon the captain and crew with their bludgeons; but, having before experienced such attempts, he was prepared for them, and receiving assistance from the shore, the Irishmen were worsted, and then every man paid his fare. The truth is that they are very turbulent, and the lower orders of the Americans are very much enraged against them. On the 4th of July there were several bodies of Americans, who were out on the look-out for the Irish, after dark, and many of the latter were severely beaten, if not murdered; the Irish, however, have to thank themselves for it.

The spirit of the institutions of the States is so opposed to servitude, that it is chiefly from the emigrants that the Americans obtain their supply of domestics; the men servants in the private houses may be said to be, with few exceptions, either emigrants or free people of colour. Amongst other points upon which the Americans are to be pitied, and for which the most perfect of theoretical governments could never compensate, is the misery and annoyance to which they are exposed from their domestics. They are absolutely slaves to them, especially in the western free States; there are no regulations to control them. At any fancied affront they leave the house without a moment’s warning, putting on their hats or bonnets, and walking out of the street-door, leaving their masters and mistresses to get on how they can. I remember when I was staying with a gentleman in the west, that, on the first day of my arrival, he apologised to me for not having a man servant, the fellow having then been drunk for a week; a woman had been hired to help for a portion of the day, but most of the labour fell upon his wife, whom I found one morning cleaning my room. The fellow remained ten days drunk, and then (all his money being spent) sent to his master to say that he would come back on condition that he would give him a little more liquor. To this proposition the gentleman was compelled to assent, and the man returned as if he had conferred a favour. The next day, at dinner, there being no porter up, the lady said to her husband, “Don’t send for it, but go yourself, my dear; he is so very cross again that I fear he will leave the house.” A lady of my acquaintance in New York told her coachman that she should give him warning; the reply from the box was—“I reckon I have been too long in the woods to be scared with an owl.” Had she noticed this insolence, he would probably have got down from the box, and have left her to drive her own cattle. The coloured servants are, generally speaking, the most civil; after them the Germans; the Irish and English are very bad. At the hotels, etcetera, you very often find Americans in subordinate situations, and it is remarkable that when they are so, they are much more civil than the imported servants. Few of the American servants, even in the large cities, understand their business, but it must be remembered that few of them have ever learnt it, and, moreover, they are expected to do three times as much as a servant would do in an English house. The American houses are much too large for the number of servants employed, which is another cause for service being so much disliked.

It is singular that I have not found in any one book, written by English, French, or German travellers, any remarks made upon a custom which the Americans have of almost entirely living, I may say, in the basement of their houses; and which is occasioned by their difficulties in housekeeping with their insufficient domestic establishments. I say custom of the Americans, as it is the case in nine houses out of ten; only the more wealthy travelled, and refined portion of the community in their cities deviating from the general practice.

I have before observed that, from the wish of display, the American houses are generally speaking, too large for the proprietors and for the domestics which are employed. Vying with each other in appearance, their receiving rooms are splendidly furnished, but they do not live in them.

The basement in the front area, which with us is usually appropriated to the housekeeper’s-room and offices, is in most of their houses fitted up as a dining-room; by no means a bad plan, as it is cool in summer, warm in winter, and saves much trouble to the servants. The dinner is served up in it, direct from the kitchen, with which it communicates. The master of the house, unless he dines late, which is seldom the case in American cities, does not often come home to dinner, and the preparations for the family are of course not very troublesome. But although they go on very well in their daily routine, to give a dinner is to the majority of the Americans really an effort, not from the disinclination to give one, but from the indifference and ignorance of the servants; and they may be excused without being taxed with want of hospitality. It is a very common custom, therefore, for the Americans to invite you to come and “take wine” with them, that is to come after dinner, when you will find cakes, ices, wine, and company, already prepared. But there is something unpleasant in this arrangement; it is too much like the bar of the tavern in the west, with—“Stranger, will you drink?” It must, however, be recollected that there are many exceptions to what I have above stated as the general practice. There are houses in the principal cities of the States where you will sit down to as well-arranged and elegant a dinner as you will find in the best circles of London and Paris; but the proprietors are men of wealth, who have in all probability been on the old continent, and have imbibed a taste for luxury and refinement generally unknown and unfelt in the new hemisphere.

I once had an instance of what has been repeatedly observed by other travellers of the dislike to be considered as servants in this land of equality.

I was on board of a steam-boat from Detroit to Buffalo, and entered into conversation with a young woman who was leaning over the taffrail. She had been in service, and was returning home.

“You say you lived with Mr W.?”