THE FATE
A 522288
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MANSFIELD
HUMPHREYS
Richard Grant White
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THE FATE OF
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS
Richard Grant White

ARTES!
1837
SCIENTIA
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
E-PLURIBUS UKUM
.V
QUAERIS PENINSULAM AMDENAM
CIRCUMSPICE

Copyright, 1884,
BY RICHARD GRANT WHITE.
All rights reserved.
The Riverside Press, Cambridge:
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
THE FATE OF MANSFIELD
HUMPHREYS, WITH THE EPISODE
OF MR. WASHINGTON ADAMS IN ENG-
LAND, AND AN APOLOGY
BY RICHARD GRANT WHITE, AUTHOR OF
“ENGLAND WITHOUT AND WITHIN,” “SHAKE-
SPEARE'S SCHOLAR," "THE NEW GOSPEL OF
PEACE," "THE LIFE AND GENIUS OF SHAKE-
SPEARE," ETC., ETC.

BOSTON: HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND
COMPANY. NEW YORK: 11 EAST SEVEN-
TEENTH STREET. The Riverside Press, CAM-
BRIDGE. 1884
By the same Author.
ENGLAND WITHOUT AND WITHIN.
In one volume, 12m0, $2.00.
It is something to be able to say concerning any book on the
United States written by an Englishman, or any book on England
written by a Yankee, that it exhibits unfailing good sense, good
feeling, and good taste; but all this, and much more than this,
can be said in commendation of Mr. Grant White's charming vol-
Since Mr. Emerson wrote his "English Traits" we have
had no book so satisfying as this in its portrayal of really charac-
teristic manifestations of the peculiar quality of English social
life. London Spectator.
ume.
WORDS AND THEIR USES.
PAST AND PRESENT. A STUDY OF THE ENGLISH LAN-
GUAGE. New and revised Edition. In one volume, 12mo, $2.00.
Too much cannot be said in praise of the literary spirit as ex-
pressed in the book as a whole. There is nothing narrow or petty
or provincial in it. When Mr. White makes mistakes they are
the mistakes of a gentleman. . . . Mr. White has the true critical
spirit, broad, liberal, manly, appreciative, and direct. - New York
Evening Post.
EVERY-DAY ENGLISH.
A SEQUEL TO "WORDS AND THEIR USES."
12m0, $2.00.
In one volume,
Surely no other defender of the integrity of the mother-tongue
has secured so wide a hearing, no other has led so many people,
previously heedless of the matter, to take some thought upon
their speech, and few have equaled him in taste, knowledge, and
general fitness to speak upon the subject. Most of his criti-
cisms win the reader's immediate assent, and in many cases more
than his assent. Mr. White has a fine sense of correctness and
elegance in the use of language. New York Times.
•
SHAKESPEARE'S WORKS.
Riverside Edition. Edited by RICHARD Grant White. With
Glossarial, Historical, and Explanatory Notes. In three vol-
umes. With Portrait. Crown 8vo, gilt top, the set, $7.50;
half calf, $15.00.
THE SAME. In six volumes, 8vo, gilt top, the set, $15.00; half
calf, $25.00.
Mr. Grant White's Shakespearian labors form an epoch in the
critical literature of this country. -New York Tribune.
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., BOSTON, PUBLISHERS.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
EVELYN HENRIETTA,
COUNTESS STANHOPE,
CHEVENING, SEVENOAKS, KENT.
Dear Lady Stanhope, -
Your name adorns the first page of
this book, not only because I have the great pleasure of be-
lieving that you do it the honor of regarding it with some
interest, but because there is propriety in its being thus dis-
tinguished. For although you may not find it wholly wor-
thy of approval, I know that Chevening is conspicuous
among the houses in England in which I may hope that it
will be received with candor, with generosity, and with good
will, and with a hearty acknowledgment besides of the warm,
deep feeling toward England, reaching even to loving rev-
erence, from which its writer could not free himself if he
would, and which it has been ere this his pride and pleasure
to reveal. Pray accept it as a slight tribute of respect and re-
gard, fitly offered to one who, mistress of a house and mem-
ber of a family in which distinction in literature and art,
as well as in arms, accompanies high station, herself adds
charm to that distinction, and to that station grace.
dear Lady Stanhope,
1
am,
Stuyvesant Square,
Faithfully yours,
RICHARD GRANT WHITE.
New York, 20th May, 1884.
:
ADVERTISEMENT.
A FEW chapters of this book appeared in "The
Atlantic Monthly" magazine; and the first three
were published in Edinburgh, with the title "Mr.
Washington Adams in England." The Apology
at the end of the book takes the place of a pre-
face, if not in position, at least in the usual, and
generally the better, order of reading.
But it is proper that the writer should say herc
that the first seven of the following chapters had
been published in "The Atlantic" two months
before the commencement, in "The Century,"
of the publication of "Lady Barberina;" no
part of which he has yet had the pleasure of
reading, and of the motive of which he has been
told just as his own book is going to press.
24th May, 1884.
NOTE.
I CANNOT allow this book to be published without an
expression of my great regret for the manner in which
Bulwer, Lord Lytton, is spoken of in its first chapter.
It was not until that chapter was printed — it having been
twice printed and published before that I met with and
read the autobiography and letters of Bulwer, edited by
his son, the present Lord Lytton. That book has entirely
changed my view of the character of its distinguished
subject; and this I find is also the case with others. Be-
yond a doubt, in my mind, Bulwer was a gentleman, and
a man of upright and noble nature. I cannot admire
"Pelham," except for its cleverness; nor can I find in it
more of satire than of sympathy on the writer's part with
his hero. But I speak now of Bulwer the man. He was
manifestly one of those writers whose style misrepresents
their character. His rude speech to his "American"
guest was merely an exhibition of generic ins-ularity ;
and is not to be laid up against the author of "The Cax-
tons," the Edward Bulwer who treated his austere mother
with such an admirable union of delicacy, pride, and
affection.
R. G. W.
CONTENTS.
1. THE FELLOW-TRAVELERS.
AND NEW ENGLAND
•
PAGE
OLD ENGLAND
1
II. BOREHAM HALL. SOCIETY IN AMERICA" 57
III. TOPPINGTON PRIORY. LORD TOPPINGTON
SEES A REAL AMERICAN
IV. A LETTER FROM MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
DANGER SIGNALS
V. UNTOLD LOVE. A SOCIAL SURPRISE
VI. MARGARet's Den
VII. A SACRIFICE
VIII. LOVE'S EXILE. AN ENGLISHWOMAN
NEW YORK
IX. A NEW HOME IN BOSTON.
X. AN "AMERICAN" END OF AN
FORTUNE
•
XI. COLONEL WATERSTOCK
•
72
112
•
. 161
187
204
IN
213
249
"AMERICAN'
"
. 270
XII. THE BRITISH LION INCOGNITO
€ 288
•
•
303
·
321
XIII. DR. TOPPINGHAM'S ANTE-MORTEM
XIV. EXIT MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS
•
• 361
THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS Book
. 371
THE FATE
OF
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
I.
THE FELLOW-TRAVELERS.
OLD ENGLAND
AND NEW ENGLAND.
—
ONE bright September day I was on my
way by rail from London to A- in Marl-
shire, where I expected to ramble for half a
week among the farmsteads and cottages,
unknowing and unknown, and then to visit
a gentleman of the county, whom I had not
seen since he parted from me at my own
door, leaving pleasant memories behind him.
I was alone in the railway carriage, and was
as nearly in a state of perfect happiness as
a man could be who was away from home
and from those who make it home, and the
desire of whose life was not only unattained
but unattempted. The air was soft; the
1
2
THE FATE OF
gray-blue sky was lightly clouded; the
morning beamed with a mellow brightness
that was like the smile of a happy woman.
Sitting in the middle back seat, leaning at
mine ease in mine inn, swift-moving, silent,
secluded, luxurious, I looked alternately
through one window and the other upon
that beautiful human scenery of England
which was such a never-ending, ever-vary-
ing source of delight to me that its only
shadow was the regret which it now and then
awakened that a certain steeple-crowned
gentleman had not stayed at home and
minded his business, instead of seeking that
"freedom to worship God," which, having
obtained, he immediately took vigorous
measures to deny to others.
My reveries did not attain the dignity of
thought; and I was as nearly in the state
of sweet-doing-nothing as is possible to a
man of English blood and "American
birth in the nineteenth century. The speed
of the train was diminished by almost in-
sensible degrees, until we stopped at one of
the minor way-stations, where I saw half a
dozen persons waiting: a clergyman, man-
ifestly, not only from the cut and color of
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
3
his coat, and his hat, and his white tie in
the morning, but most of all from his very
clerical but cheerful countenance; a rough-
ish, sharp-eyed commercial traveler or two;
a lean, pale, spinster-looking gentlewoman,
with a maid of dangerous freshness of lip
and roundness of waist, carrying her bag;
and a farmer, not big and burly, but rather
under-sized, with a gnarled and almost
knotted-visage. All these were evidently
going short distances, and they disappeared
into other carriages; when, just as the train
was about moving, my open door was dark-
ened by a porter who had in his hand a small
portmanteau, on which I at once saw, among
other labels and relics of others, two that
interested me, Boston and Roma. "Step
quick, sir, please," said the porter; and the
passenger was in his seat, with his port-
manteau at his feet, before I recognized
him. "Why, Humphreys, is it you? How
came you here?" "In a fly," he answered,
with a smile, partly at his old joke, partly
of pleasant recognition. After a grasp of
the hand, which was somewhat closer than
it would have been if we had met in Broad-
way or in Beacon Street, we fell into the
4
THE FATE OF
quick inquiring and replying chat of com-
patriots who meet unexpectedly in a strange
country.
Mansfield Humphreys, whose first name
was William, but who was always called by
his second, that of his mother's family, was
a New England man, who spent a great
part of his time in New York. His people
were of well-settled respectability in the in-
terior of Massachusetts; his father, a judge,
an Episcopalian when Episcopalians were
rare in the Old Commonwealth, an unflinch-
ing Federalist in the waning days of Fed-
eralism; his mother, the daughter of a
Congregational minister. They were one
of those numerous New England families
who, having lived savingly in the past on
fewer hundreds a year than many of them
now have thousands, had yet been known
through generations for their culture, their
fine breeding, and their character. Whether
all the men were brave we know not; and
if all the women were not virtuous, that too
was never known; but they were of that
order of New England folk among whom
the doing of a shabby thing was almost
social death; and for generations they had
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
5
held their heads high with modest dignity;
so that in the times when representatives
were chosen because they were thought to
be worthy of consideration and the fittest
men to speak and act for their fellow-citi-
zens, the Humphreys sat again and again in
the General Court of Massachusetts. He
was a Harvard man, and a lawyer by pro-
fession; but he had appeared little in the
courts, and was chiefly employed as counsel
for railway companies, in one or two of
which he was a shareholder.
In the civil war, after standing uncertain
for a while (for he was no abolitionist), he
became a very pronounced Unionist; not
because he went with the multitude, but
chiefly, I suspect, because of his resentment
of the political domineering and social arro-
gance of the South. He did not go into the
army; for although he was very young at
the time, he thought he could do more ser-
vice out of the field than in it.
"I've no
military instincts," he said; "if I were to
put on a uniform, I should only feel as if
I was going to a bal costumé in a char-
acter that did n't suit me. I hardly know
one end of a gun from the other ;· I never
6
THE FATE OF
in my life fired even a revolver; and in
battle I should count only as one man,
either to shoot or to be shot at; but of
such perhaps if I stayed at home I might
count for quite half a dozen." Wherefore
he stayed; and he did count for many half-
dozens by his energy and skill in affairs,
and his indomitable spirit in the darkest
days of the Union. He was very versa-
tile; and one unexpected manifestation of
a special talent brought us into close com-
munion. In a series of amateur dramatic
performances, got up for the purpose of
combining social entertainment with the
raising of funds for the equipment of a reg-
iment, I had acted as a sort of stage man-
ager, and he had been general business
manager and treasurer; but on the defec-
tion of one of the principal amateur artists,
and the despair of the company at finding
a remplaçant, he, to the surprise of all, de-
clared that he would take the vacant rôle
himself. To the still greater surprise of
all, this sober lawyer and then nascent rail-
way manager displayed a marked histrionic
ability. Although he was a fine-looking
fellow, he had a face and a figure that were
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
7
not impressively individual, and when he
appeared upon the stage he was dressed
and made up with such skill that, if his
name had not been known, his nearest
friends would not have recognized him. He
played with an entire unconsciousness of
self, and with such a dry, pungent humor
that his speeches told like rifle-bullets on
his audience. His success did not turn his
head. After the war was over, he could
not be induced to repeat his theatrical per-
formances. He subsided again into his
business, and grew moderately rich; and
in the mature man who looked after stocks
and legislatures no one, except a few who
remembered the young fellow of fifteen years.
before, would have supposed there was an
amateur actor of the first quality.
This was the man who dropped by my
side, out of the clouds into a railway car-
riage. As we chatted, the train stopped
again, and there entered our compartment
a tall, fine-looking man, with dark eyes and
hair, aquiline features, and military-looking
moustache and whiskers in which a little
gray was gleaming. He looked strong and
alert, notwithstanding a pale face and a
8
THE FATE OF
rather slender figure. Taking off his hat,
after bidding us good-morning, he put it
into the rack above his head, and substi-
tuted for it a little black silk smoking-cap.
Then he took up a railway novel and began
to read.
Soon turning to Humphreys, who was on
the opposite seat, he said, "I beg your
pahdon, but would you kindly tell me if
this is a fast train? I forgot to inquire."
“With pleasure," said Humphreys ; “but
I don't know, myself. I'm quite a stran-
ger here,
an American."
If instead of this answer in Humphreys'
sweet, rich voice, he had received a snub,
he could hardly have shown more aston-
ishment in the change of the expression of
his face. His eye rested a moment on
Humphreys, and with "Ah, thanks," he
slowly went back to his book. After read-
ing awhile, with an uneasy hitch or two of
his elbows, he suddenly turned to Hum-
phreys again, saying, "I beg your pahdon,
but you said you were an American. You
were n't jokin'?"
Not at all;" and after a glance at me,
with an affirmative glance in reply, "my
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
9
friend here and I are both Americans, —
Yankees. I've been here before, but I be-
lieve this is his first visit to England."
"Indeed! That's very surprisin'. Will
you pahdon a stranger for saying so, but
(I've never been in America) you're not
at all the sort of person that we take Amer-
icans to be, and generally find 'em, if you'll
excuse me for sayin' so. Indeed, I know
I'm takin' a liberty; but I was so much
surprised that—that I'm sure-I hope
you 'll pahdon me.”
It is impossible to exaggerate the manly
courtesy and deference of his manner as he
spoke, looking frankly and modestly from
his hazel eyes; and the little hesitation in
his speech rather lent it grace and charm.
66
Pray don't apologize," said Humphreys,
"but let me ask in turn, What sort of crea-
ture do you expect an American to be,-
black, with woolly hair, or copper-colored,
with a scalp-lock and a tomahawk in hand?”
He laughed gently, and replied, "Not
exactly that; at least except in some cases.
But the few Americans that I've seen could
be told for American across a theatre; their
faces, their figures, their carriage, the cut of
10
THE FATE OF
their clothes, all told it; and if one were
blind they could be known by their voices,
and, if you 'll pahdon me, by the very queer
language they used, which was English
merely because it was n't anything else. I
know I've no right to presume on these
criticisms to you; but you seemed to invite
it, after kindly passin' over my first intru-
sion."
66
Pray be at ease on that score. We're
very glad, I'm sure, of a little enlighten-
ment in regard to those very queer people,
'the Americans,' who you seem to think are
all as like as Rosalind's halfpence. But now
pardon me for saying, in my turn, that if
you were to come to Boston, you would be
taken by most of my friends, at least in
your evening dress, for a Yankee, except
by those whose quick ears detected some
slight John Bullish inflections in your voice,
or whose quick eyes discovered some kin-
dred and equally slight peculiarities of man-
ner."
"I taken for a Yankee!" and he looked
blank, and even slightly aghast.
It was the nearest approach to unpleas-
antness that our fellow-traveler had yet
MANSFIEld humPHREYS.
11
been guilty of; but it was so honest and
simple, so plainly without thought of offense,
and so earnest, that Humphreys and I en-
joyed it and laughed; at which he blushed
like a girl, and then laughed himself, with
gleaming teeth and mobile lips.
"Why," said Humphreys, "are you not
English?"
"What a question! To be sure I am."
"English for many generations?"
“For more than I know.
My people
were here when William the Conqueror
came over.'
""
“So were mine; so were my friend's; so
were those of most of our friends at home.
Did you ever think of that?”
"Ah-yes. Just so; quite so, quite so.
That's an old story. But has n't there been
some admixture-ah, some interminglin',
or ah, somethin'? Else how could we
tell an American the moment we look at
him, the very moment don't you see?
You find 'em in Paris, and all over the
Continent, and you can tell 'em as you pass
'em in the street."
66
Hardly, it would seem; for here's a case
this morning, perhaps two," with a glance
12
THE FATE OF
at me, who kept silence, "in which it seems
the sure tests failed."
"Ah, yes, —'m; just so; quite so, quite
so. You're right there. Bless my soul!
I never was so astonished in my life as when
you coolly told me you were an American.”
Coolly?"
66
"I beg your pahdon ;" and again he
blushed. "I meant no offense."
"Not more than I did, I'm sure, when I
said that you might be taken for a Yankee."
I saw by his eye that he winced again,
internally; but he said nothing.
66
"Of course," said Humphreys, in an easy,
off-hand manner,
we can always tell an
Englishman by his face and his figure, and
his dress and his speech."
66
Ah, just so; I should think so," with a
little involuntary drawing of himself up.
"Oh, yes; we all know an Englishman
by his being red-faced and bull-necked and
clumsy, with coat and trousers of a furious
check, and a waistcoat of a different suit,
and a lot of chains and rings, and his say-
ing Hengland for England, and calling a
hen an N. We can't mistake them." And
as Humphreys told this off, there was a
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
13
good-natured smile upon his lip, and a
twinkle in his eye that made it impossible.
for our carriage companion to take offense
at what he himself had provoked. But he
rejoined quickly and rather sharply, drop-
ping his voice-
"I beg your pahdon, I beg your pahdon ;
you said that you'd been here before. Did
you ever happen to be in the company of
an English gentleman?"
"This morning, at least, I hope and be-
lieve," said Humphreys, bowing, and look-
ing him very steadily in the eye.
There was a slight pause, and then the
Englishman said, "I ask your pahdon, I
ask your pahdon; I see I was wrong. But
it's all so very odd, so very strange. The
truth is that you see that, as I told you,
I've never been in America, and the few
Americans I've seen I've met by chance,
and did n't know who or what they were,
-and that, by the way, is n't an easy thing
to find out about Americans; and so
well, I suppose," with a pleasant smile and
a very sweet and simple courtesy, "I sup-
pose I haven't happened to fall in with an
American gentleman until this morning.
""
14
THE FATE OF
"A Roland for my Oliver," said Hum-
phreys, with a frank smile; "but let us
leave compliments and fencing, and talk a
little plain common-sense.
What do you
mean by an American?”
"Oh, a man born in America, to be sure,
a man from the States."
“That's a definition that would quickly
land you on very queer and heterogeneous
shores. For it would include some millions
of negroes, some tens of thousands of Indi-
ans, to say nothing of a greater number of
sons of Irishmen and Germans, whose broth-
ers and sisters, as well as whose parents,
were born in Ireland or in Germany. Now
all these people are almost as completely
separated from each other, and from us
Yankees, and from Virginians and South
Carolinians, as if they or their parents had
remained at home. The time will come
when they the whites among them at
least will all be blended into one people;
but many generations must pass away be-
fore that is brought about. Meantime, they
are all citizens of the United States, just as
all your Irishmen and Scotchmen and East
Indiamen are British subjects. But al-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
15
though they are thus politically united, and,
being scattered over a half-continent that
has no distinctive name, are called Amer-
icans for convenience' sake, because there is
no other way of designating them, they are
in no sense one people, like the English
people, or the Irish, or the Scotch, or the
French, or even like the Germans and the
Italians, who have been distinctive races
or peoples from prehistoric times, but only
recently have become politically nations."
"Ah, I see; just so, just so. But what
has that to do with my taking you and
your friend, as a matter of course, for Eng-
lishmen, and my being taken for -for-
a Yankee?"
"Well, this: Are you not apt to forget
that New England was settled by English-
men who went over there in large numbers
(nearly forty thousand in less than twenty
years) two centuries and a half ago, — Eng-
lishmen who were, so to speak, the most
English of their kind; typical representa-
tives of the Anglo-Saxon race as it had been
developed in England during one thousand
years; the men who beheaded Charles I.
because he was a faithless tyrant, and who
16
THE FATE OF
made the Commonwealth: - who, as John
Richard Green has told you, were in great
part men of the professional and middle
classes; some of them men of landed estate ;
some clergymen, some London lawyers, or
young Oxford scholars; the bulk God-fear-
ing farmers? Don't you forget that these
men and their descendants, through a cen-
tury and a half (with no important admix-
ture), settled and built up the country, and
framed a society and a system of govern-
ment which, omitting only the elements of
monarchy and aristocracy, was thoroughly
English in its spirit, in its laws, and in its
habits and customs which indeed could
not have been other than thoroughly Eng-
lish because they were English; and that
American society, as they thus made it,
was subjected to no considerable external
influences until about fifty years ago? It
is within that time, within the memory of
men yet living and acting, that the emigra-
tion from other countries than England be-
gan. Fifty years ago the people of New Eng-
land and Virginia (excluding the slaves)
were probably the most thoroughly English
people in the world.”
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
17
The Englishman raised his eyebrows, and
looked inquiringly.
Because," Humphreys continued, in
reply to the look, "there was less admix-
ture of any foreign element among them
than there was in England itself. You
might then travel through New England in
its length and breadth, and not encounter,
in your journey, half a dozen names that
were not English. Do you suppose that
the blood, the nature, of these men was
changed because, in contending for their
rights as Englishmen, they had severed
their political connection with the mother
country? Did the absence of monarchy
affect their race, or change their race traits?
Were Cromwell's Ironsides any less Eng-
lishmen than Goring's troopers ? Were
Englishmen any less English under the
Commonwealth than they had been before
under Charles I., or than they became af-
terwards under Charles II.?"
"I suppose not. I never thought of that.
But they were in England."
"And you infer that that made them
Englishmen? I thought, on the contrary,
that Britain became England because Eng-
2
18
THE FATE OF
lishmen lived there, possessed the country,
and ruled it."
so.'
66
""
Very true. Just so; quite so, quite
"Well, if a large body of Englishmen
went to another country, and possessed it
and ruled it, would they therefore cease to
be Englishmen ?"
"N-n-no; I can't see exactly how they
would. But they might change, you know,
in time, and by intermixture with other
people,natives of the new country, the
aborigines, you know; and that would mod-
ify their language and their customs, and
so gradually make them a different peo-
ple."
"So it might, in a long period of time.
But what are two centuries in the life of a
race, and above all a race so scrupulously
averse to social intermixture as the English
race is when it colonizes? Aborigines!
Why, the Englishmen that came from Jut-
land into Britain did n't sweep it so clean
of the British tribes, as the Englishmen
who came from Old England to America
swept their part of the country clean of
Americans. Yes" (in answer to a look of
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
19
surprise at the word), "Americans; for
you 've only to turn back less than a hun-
dred years in English literature to find the
word American' applied (and rightly)
only to the tribes for whose miserable rem-
nants you have now to go to the Rocky
Mountains, two thousand miles from Bos-
ton, further than from London to St.
Petersburg. And then these Englishmen
clung with singular tenacity to every ele-
ment of their English birthright, its laws,
its language; and chiefly to its English
Bible, which has been thus far the most
indestructible of all the bonds of union
between scattered men of English race,
even the most godless of them. But we're
getting into deep water for a railway chat,
and I'm almost lecturing you."
"No, no; do go on. I suppose I knew
all this before; but I never saw it before
quite in this light."
"Well, however it all may be that I've
just been telling you, at the risk of being
trite and commonplace, is it not reasonable
in judging a country in which a new gov-
ernment and a new society have been es-
tablished, to judge it by those who have
20
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been longest under the influences of the
country, physical, political, and social?
Must not they be the best examples of
what that new country, as you call it, and
that new government and society have pro-
duced?"
"Ah!'m! seems so; can't say but they
are."
"How could it be otherwise? Now the
most thoroughly English-seeming men that
you will find in America are New England
men and Virginians whose families have
been in New England and Virginia for two
hundred years. I remember a man on ship-
board whom not one of those whom you
call Britishers "
“ We?”
"Surely you, or nobody. It is a word
never heard in the United States; abso-
lutely unknown except as a quizzical quo-
tation of what you must pardon me for call-
ing British blundering."
"Well, well!" said our railway friend, a
little testily. "There would seem to be no
end to our blunderin'. You mean, I sup-
pose, your English shipmates."
""
"Some were English, yes; but some were
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
21
Scotch, some Irish, and there was a hand-
some Welshman, with a sweet English wife.
But they were all British subjects, as they
might all have been citizens of the United
States, might they not?"
"I'm afraid you 're an American Soc-
rates, and are gettin' me into a corner with
your questions; but I suppose that I must
admit that they might."
"And in that case would they have ceased
to be English, Irish, Scotch, and Welsh?”
"To be sure they would."
"How is that? Would the government
under which they chose to live change their
identity, their race, and make them other
than they were born?”
"N-n-no. At least, I can't say just now
how it would. But are n't you puttin' rather
too fine a point on it, as we say in Eng-
land?"
"And as we say in New England: - I
think not. But be that as it may, this
motley crowd of four races undertook to
label some dozen or twenty of their fellow-
passengers as foreigners, because they were
born in America, men of as unmitigated
English blood as could be found between
22
THE FATE OF
the Humber and the Channel. But this
one man whom I mentioned they positively
refused to accept as an American, even
upon the assurance of his countrymen; in-
sisting upon it, in a hooting sort of way,
that he was English. And so he was,
English as King Alfred; but, as I happened
to know, he was from the interior of New
England, where his father's family and his
mother's had lived for more than two hun-
dred years.'
""
as
"A singular exception, I suppose. There
must always be such exceptions, you know.”
"Pardon me, rather as you know; just
such exceptions as you found my friend here
and myself." And as Humphreys smiled,
his good-natured colloquist smiled too, and
said
"You have me there.
no fair match for you.
But you see, I'm
You have thought
on this subject, and I have n't."
"And therefore you have undertaken to
decide it for yourself, at least."
66
Come, come! This is getting to be a
little too much. I did n't expect that when
I asked a simple question I should be sat
upon in this awful way;" saying this in
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
23
the pleasantest tone and with perfect good-
nature, and yet evidently feeling a little
nettled at Humphreys' close pursuit.
“Isn't the truth of the matter that you
I mean you in the Old Home here
have done the sitting down yourselves for
so long that you don't quite like any change
in the fashion ?"
There was a silence of a few moments,
broken only by the half-musical hum with
which a fast English railway train pursues
its swift but gentle course; and I, looking
out of the window, as we passed, upon a
viaduct, over a pretty road, saw a great van
toiling along just under us, and a humble.
foot-passenger resting himself on a bench.
under an old oak opposite a little inn, at
the door of which stood a stout, red-faced
woman, probably the wife of the publican.
I had hardly had this characteristic glimpse.
of rural England, and we were whisking
again through sprout-fields and meadows,
when our companion resumed the conver-
sation, saying, "Perhaps, perhaps. The
truth is that likely enough we have been a
little hard upon you, from Mrs. Trollope
down."
24
THE FATE OF
"Ay," answered Humphreys; "you all
begin with Mrs. Trollope's damnable book.
And yet Mrs. Trollope was right.'
"Right! And you say that!"
"I. So far as I have the means of know-
ing, Mrs. Trollope was quite correct in all
her descriptions.'
"Quite so," I said, putting in my little
oar for the first time, as the Englishman
turned to me with an astonished and in-
quiring eye.
"And yet you called her book dam-
nable."
“And so it was," said Humphreys; "pro-
fessing as it did to give a picture of the do-
mestic manners of the Americans, and taken,
as it was, to be a correct representation of
society in the United States. It was writ-
ten in a pleasing and picturesque style, -
for Mrs. Trollope's style was better than
her son Anthony's; and that book has
leavened, or rather soured and doughed,
British opinion and tinged British feeling
in regard to the Americans to this day."
"Correct, and yet damnable; pleasin'
and picturesque, and yet sourin' and dough-
in'! Matters, I must say, are becomin'
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
25
rather complicated; 'mixed' I believe it's
called in America."
"Do you know," said Humphreys sharp-
ly, "anything of the geography of the
United States, and did you ever hear of
Botany Bay?'
""
"Oh yes,” replied our companion blandly,
brightening; "I'm pretty well up there.
I know, of course, that the States lie south
of Canada, and north of the island of Nas-
sau; and I know all about your big rivers
and lakes, and your immense prairies, and
the Rocky Mountains, and California, and
all that sort of thing. But what has that
to do with Botany Bay?"
"Do you know how far New Orleans and
Cincinnati are from Boston and Philadel-
phia?"
"New Orleans? That's where the British
troops lost a battle. Washington defeated
us there, did n't he? You see I'm deter-
mined to be fair. Quite at the south, is n't
it? And Cincinnatus, one of your west-
ern towns is n't it, near Chicago? I sup-
pose they must both be pretty well away
from Boston; some two or three hundred
miles or so."
""
26
THE FATE OF
"And do you know when Mrs. Trollope
wrote her book?"
"I can answer that question of my
American catechism too," he replied. "I
know it's not a new book, twenty or
thirty years old; and since that time, I
know," he continued, with a courtesy which
I thought rather severely tried by Hum-
phreys' sharp fire of questions, "the Amer-
icans have made great advances, - very
great advances, indeed," bowing to both
of us.
66
'My stars and garters! nothing of the
sort," rejoined Humphreys, like a steel-
trap. "If you mean that we've grown
richer, and bigger, and stronger, very well;
that 's true enough. But if you mean that
we 've made great advances in morality, in
social refinement, and particularly in domes-
tic manners, to use Mrs. Trollope's very
good phrase, permit me to assure you
you 're quite wrong. This was before my
memory: I'm not praising the doings of
the days when I was a boy. I spare you
the quotation
"Sese puero," murmured our friend.
"but if you will look into the books
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
27
ས
of some British travelers who preceded Mrs.
Trollope a generation or so, you will find
that they present a picture of morals and
manners in the United States much more
admirable than could be composed from the
columns of our own newspapers at the pre-
sent day."
"You have been deterioratin' then, you
mean to say?"
66
Looking at the surface of our society
without discrimination, it must be admitted
that the deterioration has been great in
those respects."
"I'm sorry to hear it; and to tell you
the truth, I think somethin' of the same
sort has been goin' on in England. To what
do
you attribute it?"
"Several causes; but chiefly, our great
and sudden increase in wealth, the war, and
largely, European influence.'
"Whew!" a very soft whistle of sur-
prise.
""
"Not such European influence as would
be likely to be under your personal cogni-
zance, or to occur to you in
your estimate
of social forces. But let me go on as I
began. The deterioration in morals is so
28
THE FATE OF
certain and so well known that no one
thinks of disputing it. To look through a
file of one of our leading newspapers for
the last fifteen years is to be led to the con-
clusion that personal honesty has become
the rarest of virtues in the United States,
except public probity, which seems no longer
to exist. The very ruins of it have disap-
peared. Our state legislatures, instead of
being composed of men to whom their con-
stituents looked up, are now composed of
men upon whom their constituents look
down, not second-rate, nor even third-
rate, but fourth and fifth rate men, sordid
in morals and vulgar in manners, who do
politics as a business, for the mere purpose
of filling their own pockets. No one thinks
of disputing this more than the presence
of the blood-sucking insects of summer.
Congress itself is openly declared by our
own journals to be, because it is known to
be, the most corrupt body in civilized
Christendom. Within the last fifteen years
we have seen men occupying the highest,
the two very highest, positions, in the gov-
ernment of the United States, who were
not only purchasable, but who had been
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
29
purchased, and at a very small price. I
know what I say, and mean it" (in answer
to a look of surprise). "The Cabinets,
during the same period, have been so rotten
with corruption that the presence in them
of two or three men of integrity could not
save them. Worse even than this, judges
are openly called Mr. This-one's judge, or
Mr. That-one's; their owner being gener-
ally the controlling stockholder and man-
ager of some great corporation, which coins
wealth for him and his satellites by schemes
of gigantic extortion. I know something
of this by personal observation. There was
a time when the bench of the United States
was not inferior in probity, and hardly in
learning or ability, to that of Great Brit-
ain. As to manners, did you see that social
sketch in Punch ticketed In Mid-Atlan-
tic,' in which a bishop or a dean, who has
plainly been engaged in an upper-deck fair-
day chat with an American mother, turns
to her son, a lad in knickerbockers, and
looking with benign reproof upon him, says,
'My young friend, when I was of your age
it was not thought decorous for young peo-
ple to mingle in the conversations of their
6
30
THE FATE OF
elders, unless they were requested to do so.'
And young Hopeful replies, "That must
have been eighty years ago, and we 've
changed all that now.' The cut is hardly
an exaggeration; but here are my friend
and myself, who are not more than half the
age attributed to your bishop, and who can
tell you that in our boyhood that point
of breeding was not only taught and in-
sisted on, but punctiliously observed among
all respectable New England folk. And
who, at that time, among such people, even
not in our boyhood, would have ventured
to come up to two persons engaged in con-
versation, and break directly in upon them
with another topic, at his pleasure, or for
his interest, as now is done constantly? De-
terioration of manners indeed!”
"But these are comparatively triflin'
matters, mere surface marks, - not peculiar
to America, you may be sure. Boys are
saucier in England than they used to be;
and here rude men thrust themselves upon
you now with a freedom that certainly
shows the world is movin'; but as to which
way, they and you might have a different
opinion."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
31
"Surface marks!
So are the bubbles on
of
a stream; but they float with its current,
and the foul air that fills them comes from
the bottom. Let me tell you, ex cathedra,
what I know, merely as every observing
man who has the means of knowing knows :
that the manners and the manner, as well
as the morals, of America
let us say
Boston and Philadelphia, for example, and
the surrounding country were of a much
finer type in the days of our fathers than
they are in ours. Behavior is common
now in splendid drawing-rooms, filled with
every attainable object of luxury and of
taste, which then would not have been tol-
erated in modest parlors of people who
lived frugally and worked hard for their
moderate incomes. Among them, young
people did not lounge and loll about and
talk slang in the presence of their elders
and of ladies."
"Come, come! Aren't you playin' the
middle-aged cynic? That's not at all pe-
culiar to America. The very same change
has been remarked upon here."
“And therefore," remarked Humphreys,
with a little smile, "Americans have been
32
THE FATE OF
becoming unlike Englishmen? Strange,
that among people so unlike, the social
changes should have been the same within
the same period of time!"
"H'm! Democratic tendencies; influ-
ence of democracy in both countries; lack of
deference for authority in both countries."
"Perhaps. But among the changes in
manners in England have n't you observed
the incoming of a certain mildness and gen-
tleness of tone, a considerate charity for
weakness and misfortune, and for the feel-
ings of inferiors? Are personal defects and
failings, and the ridicule that Juvenal tells
us is inherent in poverty, now openly made
the butts of the more fortunate so much as
they used to be, say, even when Miss Aus-
ten wrote her novels?"
"No, they're not. In that respect I
must admit there has been a marked im-
provement. I suppose the same has taken
place with you.
"No."
"No?"
"Not at all: simply because it was
not needed. I don't know how it was at
the South; but among New England people
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
33
of decent breeding in colonial days, and in
the early years of the republic, any reflec-
tion upon personal defects or misfortune,
any assumption of superiority because of
mere money prosperity, was regarded as the
most offensive form of ill-manners; so much
so, that among such people it may be said
to have been almost unknown. And this
social trait may be taken as typical of the
tone and the manners of New England so-
ciety at the time we are speaking of."
"Very admirable, if — pahdon me -
you 're sure you 're correct; and quite de-
structive to a suggestion I was about to
make, that the Americans, whose man-
ners and mental tone and habits you seem
to think should be taken as characteristic,
are not real Americans, products of your
soil, but Europeanized Americans."
"Now," said Humphreys, smartly, "if
you use that phrase and take that position,
I shall to adopt an expression of the el-
egant Miss Harriet Byron's rear up.'
The Americans of whom I am speaking are,
true enough, not products of the soil;-in
the name of Christopher Columbus how
could they be? - but they were those who
3
34
THE FATE OF
had been free from European influence, not
only from their birth, but for generations,
- people who had never been in Europe,
and whose forefathers had never been there
from the time when they first went to
America, two hundred and fifty years ago.
They were the people who, Lord Lovelace
said, in Queen Anne's time, had, with their
colonial and republican simplicity of life,
the manners of courtiers, and wondered (ig-
norant as he was) where they could have
got their breeding. He reminds me of
another more distinguished peer, or man
who became a peer, - Bulwer, Lord Lyt-
ton. Once, at his own table, when there
was a discussion as to some matter of taste
as to which an American, there present, ven-
tured to express an opinion adverse to that
prevalent in England, and to refer to the
standard in his own country, Bulwer said,
turning pointedly to him, 'We're not ac-
customed to look to America for opinions
on matters of good taste,' - a speech which
would have been regarded as very rude in
America, even in the rural districts of New
England; above all, to a guest at one's own
table."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
35
"Rather rough, I must confess. But you
must n't judge all English gentlemen by
that; for, with all his fine talk, I'm in-
clined to think that Bulwer was somethin'
of a sham."
“I'm not surprised to hear you say so;
and I don't judge all English gentlemen by
such a speech, -only some of them; but
unfortunately they are they whose voices are
most frequently heard by Americans."
"Ah, yes; just so, just so; just as the
American voices that we most frequently
hear are pitched in a tone not quite so agree-
able as those I've heard this morning.
Pahdon me for being a little personal."
"With all my heart, so far as your inten-
tion goes; but as to the fact, I don't know
that your apology much helps the matter.
For, excuse me for saying that your very
apology shows either that you speak in ig-
norance, or that you pick out what is an-
tipathetic to you, and label that, and that
only, as American. Your countrymen, even
the intelligent and kindly intentioned, are
so stung with a craze after something pecu-
liarly American from America that they
refuse to accept anything as American that
36
THE FATE OF
is not extravagant and grotesque. Even in
literature they accept as American only that
which is as strange and really as foreign to
the taste and habits of the most thorough-
bred Americans as it is to them."
"Bret Harte ? "
"Verily I should say so.
:
The person-
ages in Bret Harte's brilliant sketches are
just as strange, and in the same way strange,
to decent people in Boston and Philadelphia
as they are to people in London and in Ox-
ford; and they interest the one exactly as
they do the other, and for the same reasons;
and they have no peculiarly American char-
acter.'
">
"That's an astonishin' criticism."
"None but that given them by their
scenes being laid in a part of America three
thousand five hundred miles from Boston,
farther in distance than from New York to
London, and thrice as far in time. Any
writer of Bret Harte's talent, whose mother
tongue was English, would-must-have
made them just as American as he did.
And besides, the men he wrote about were
no more American than British. Half the
early Californian mining population were
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
37
of British birth, English or Scotch, with
a few Irish."
"Are you sure of that?”
"Sure; if you don't pin me down to tens
in a row of figures. Don't you remember
in the letter of the Fifth Avenue belle to
her California lover, -
'And how I once went down the middle
With the man that shot Sandy McGee' ?
And don't you remember that she herself
was ould Follins bee's daughter? Mr. Mc-
Gee and Mr. Follinsbee were typical men,
in whom your interest was as great as ours,
and for whom your responsibility was much
greater. But to turn back to Bulwer, and
his pretty speech: he deserved, I hope
you'll think, to have the truth told him,
that among Americans of the best breeding
his earlier novels were condemned, although
they were read."
Ah, yes; for their immorality, I sup-
pose. I've always heard that in such mat-
ters you were of a most exemplary partic-
ularity; although you seem, in those also"
(with a sly smile) "to have made some
progress."
"Less on that account than for their bad
38
THE FATE OF
taste and their low social tone. Men of my
age can remember hearing Bulwer spoken
of in our boyhood, by our elders, as essen-
tially vulgar, a snob, -a gilded snob, but
none the less a snob. Is not that true? '
turning to me.
"Yes," I answered; "but he improved.
in this respect astonishingly. There are few
more remarkable phenomena in literature.
than Bulwer's moral growth. You would
hardly believe that the same soul and the
same breeding were in the man who wrote
'Pelham' and The Caxtons.""
6
“But after all,” urged Humphreys, “was
n't this the result rather of an intellectual
perception of moral beauty than of a regen-
erate condition? Had he in him, the man
who wrote 'Pelham,' the capacity of ever
becoming, at heart, a gentleman ?”
"I'm afraid you 're right," said our
friend; "but have n't we taken rather a
flyer? What has all this to do with Mrs.
Trollope, and New Orleans, and Cincinna-
tus, and Botany Bay?"
"This," answered Humphreys, with a
mild conclusive fall of his voice; "the peo-
ple who thus condemned Bulwer, just as you
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
39
}
condemn him, on the score of taste and true
good breeding, were the very Americans
whose domestic manners Mrs. Trollope's
book misrepresented."
"Beg pahdon, I thought you said her
book was true."
"So it was. It did not caricature, or
very little.
What it did was to present
to the ignorant and prejudiced people of
England a carefully made, but lively and
graphic, series of sketches of society, which
were about as fair representations of the
domestic manners of such Americans I and
my friend here ever met under a roof, as a
series of like sketches of the society of Bot-
any Bay at that time would have been of
any English people that you are likely to
know anything about."
"I don't quite understand. Pray ex-
plain."
"Mrs. Trollope published her book not
twenty or thirty years ago, but fifty. She
entered the America which she professed
to describe, not at Boston, New York, or
Philadelphia, but at New Orleans; and
going up the Mississippi a thousand miles,
yes" (in answer to a look of astonished
40
THE FATE OF
inquiry), "one thousand miles, and more,
- she established herself as the keeper of
a sort of big milliner's shop, or bazaar, at
Cincinnati. Now Cincinnati is not two or
three hundred miles from Boston or Phila-
delphia, but almost a thousand; and it 's
not near Chicago, but three hundred miles
from it; and when she was there Chicago
did n't exist. Cincinnati was then not only
its thousand miles from Boston and Phil-
adelphia, but as socially remote from any
of the centres of civilization in which the
domestic manners of the Americans could
be properly studied as Botany Bay was from
London and Oxford."
Doubt, astonishment, and interest were
strongly expressed in the face of our fellow-
traveler; and he said in a low apologetic
tone, "But Botany Bay was a penal col-
ony.'
""
"Of course," said Humphreys, "I don't
mean to compare the two places in that
respect. They had no such likeness, even
at that time. I specified Botany Bay only
for the sake of using a name that would
bring to your mind vividly a very remote
colony of Englishmen cut off from inter-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
41
course with established English society,
surrounded by a wild country, and com-
posed chiefly of people whom circumstances
had made pioneers on the remotest confines
of civilization. You in England have to
reach your colonies of that sort by sea; we—
so vast is the territory of the United States
-reach ours by land. The country around
Cincinnati then, within a few miles, was
covered by the primeval forest, through
which people who must travel passed upon
tracks rather than roads, on horseback or in
vehicles of the rudest and most primitive
construction. It was then the far West,
and not only physically distant, but a great
deal farther removed from the long-estab-
lished and slowly-developed social centres
of America than any place in the world is
now from any other place, except the inte-
rior of Russia, Siberia, and Southern Africa.
My father had to go to Ohio, at that time
or later, on some professional business con-
nected with a land claim. He used to tell
the story of it years afterward; and, child
as I was, I shall never forget his descrip-
tion of his experiences: how he was two
weeks in getting there, creeping across the
42
THE FATE OF
State of New York in a canal boat, travel-
ing through Ohio on horseback, with saddle-
bags, his papers in one and his few toilet
articles in another, and his scanty wardrobe
in a leathern valise strapped behind his
saddle I have it yet: his description
of the queer, uncouth people that he met,
the privations he endured: how one day,
when he had ridden from morning almost
till night without coming upon anything
like an inn, he stopped at a house that
seemed to consist of two or three rooms,
and asked for something to eat; and how
the mistress of the establishment, who was
the only person visible, set before him a
coarse earthen dish, in which were some
slices of cold boiled pork surrounded by
dirty congealed fat, some half-sodden cakes
of Indian corn, and a jug of whiskey; and
how the repulsiveness of the viands and of
all the surroundings, including the slat-
ternly woman, so affected him that, fa-
tigued and famished as he was, he could
not eat. For it 's à propos of our subject
for me to say, after some acquaintance with
society in England and on the Continent,
that he was one of the daintiest and most
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
43
fastidious of men, although his father had
reared his family with difficulty upon a
slender income. I remember that in his
story this woman spoke of her husband as
the Judge, or rather the Jedge."
"Judge!"
"Yes, he was a justice of the peace.
"A justice of the peace! Pahdon my
repeatin' your words."
"You are surprised: naturally. Your
justices of the peace are county gentlemen
and clergymen. With us a justice of the
peace is the very lowest in consideration of
all official dignities, simply because it is the
least profitable."
"This is very strange, — a justice of the
peace holdin' his office for profit ! "
"Yes; that is one of the differences be-
tween the two countries. And you may
set this down as an axiom of general ap-
plication: that everything in America is
done, every position is sought, with a single
eye to pecuniary profit."
"And have you no gentlemen of leisure
and character who might hold such an im-
portant position?"
"Very few; and they don't want it.
44
THE FATE OF
Why should they? It would bring them no
distinction, no honor among men of their
own condition in life, and would subject
them to experiences from which they would
shrink. We have some men of wealth who,
to become senator, with a chance for the
presidency or a first-rate foreign mission,
will spend a moderate fortune."
"Bless my soul! How, pray?"
"In bribery: bribing caucus managers,
bribing legislators, bribing even political
parties; and so establishing what in our
politics are called claims. But we are wan-
dering. It was in such society as she found
in these then remote and uncivilized regions,
and others little differing from them, that
Mrs. Trollope drew her pictures in all her
books about the States, and labeled them
'Domestic Manners of the Americans.'
She has at the end of her book a few pages
of kind approval of Boston, New York, and
Philadelphia. Why, I can remember that
our friends used to listen to my father's
descriptions of his Western travel as they
would now to those of a man returned from
Patagonia or Japan; quite ignorant that
pictures of that strange life were accepted
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
45
by the world of Europe as faithful descrip-
tions of their manners and customs. The
great difficulty with you here upon this sub-
ject is that to you America
you don't
know exactly what the name means, and
indeed it is very vague and meaningless
is simply America, all one and the same;
and that Americans are simply Americans,
all alike. At the present day they are be-
coming more and more alike, under the
shaping material and moral forces which
have been developed during the last twenty
years; but before that limit of time the un-
likeness was greater than you seem to be
able to imagine.”
66
'Quite so, I should say, from what you
tell me of the effect of the strangeness upon
yourselves."
"Strangeness, indeed! Let me tell you
a little characteristic story of old New Eng-
land domestic manners, which you may
compare with your recollections of Mrs.
Trollope's book. My friend here will as-
sure you of its literal truth; for he knows
it. In 1789, when Washington was travel-
ing slowly through New England, receiv-
ing and paying visits, he called at a house
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THE FATE OF
in Connecticut, the master of which, al-
though one of the leading men in his neigh-
borhood, a scholar, and one who lived com-
fortably, never saw one thousand dollars in
money (that's two hundred pounds, you
know) in a year in all his life. Washing-
ton, when he departed, was conducted to
the door by his host and hostess, accompa-
nied by their daughter, a young girl just in
her teens. She of course did not presume
to say good-by to General Washington;
but as she opened the door for him and
stood modestly aside that he might pass
out, the great ex-commander-in-chief of the
ragged Continental army, looking down
upon her from his six feet two of stature,
and from his Olympian top of grandeur, laid
his hand with stately kindness upon her
head, saying, 'Thank you, my little lady;
I wish you a better office.' 'Yes, sir,' she
replied, doing reverence with a gentle curt-
sey, 'to let you
in.'
"By George! worthy of a duchess! Only
half of 'em would n't be up to it. 'T would
take Waldegrave to say that.”
"I shan't say it was n't; but I know it is
merely a somewhat salient and striking ex-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
47
ample of New England manners until within
the last forty years or so; and among peo-
ple who were without servants that opened
their doors for them on any occasion."
"Most extrawd'nary condition of soci-
ety!"
Extraordinary to you, but quite natural
to us at that time: the union of culture and
character and fine manners with the absence
even of moderate wealth was quite as com-
mon in New England as their union with
wealth is here. Now the great mistake that
you all make, in your uneasy search after
the real American' and the American
thing, is that you don't look for them
among those who have made America what
it is (or what it was till within the last few
years), and who are the product of genera-
tions of American breeding, but among"-
Here the train slowed, and our fellow-
traveler, interrupting Humphreys hur-
riedly, said, “This has been very interestin'
to me; but now I'm afraid I must say
good-mornin'. Can't I have the pleasure.
of seein' you again, and your friend? See;
this is my address," taking out his card,
and writing a word or two on it in pencil.
48
THE FATE OF
"If you 're in my country, do look me up.
Almost any one 'll tell you where I live;
and I'll be delighted to see you, gentle-
men, both of you, and make you as com-
fortable as I can. Give you some good
shoootin',¹ too, as you'll come after the
1st."
We exchanged cards, and parted pleas-
antly.
"Hi!" said Humphreys (showing me the
card, on which appeared in plain, bold
script, every letter of which proclaimed
Strongi'tharm — EARL OF TOPPINGHAM,
and in pencil The Priory, Toppington),
"I've a letter to him in my pocket from
Dr. Tooptoe, his old tutor at Oxford, who
says he's one of the best fellows in the
world, but too independent; that is, from
old Dr. Tooptoe's point of view. You may
think it queer that he asked two strangers,
that he chanced upon in a railway carriage,
1 It is only by the use of a superfluous o that I can indi-
cate the prolonged vowel sound in this word, which is one of
the very few and slight differences in pronunciation between
English and New England or New York men of similar
breeding. The dropping of the g from the syllable ing is not
universal among men of this class in England, but it is very
common; much more common than in the class just below
them.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
49
to his house. With us, we should never
venture on such a step; but here a man like
him can do almost anything in reason with-
out risk, not only because of his rank,
but because he's a tip-top man among his
peers. And then we 're Americans.
If we
were John Bulls, catch him at it! Besides,
Americans are always interesting subjects
of study, and objects to be exhibited."
"You know something of him then. He
seems, indeed, a thorough good fellow, with
charming manners."
"Only in a general way, and from what
Dr. Tooptoe told me. Just think of it!
that man took a double first class; and to
do that at Oxford an earl must work like
any other man ; besides, he counts for some-
thing in the House of Lords. And yet his
ignorance! New Orleans was to him a
place where the British troops were de-
feated, and by Washington! and the States
lie to the north of the island of Nassau !”
"Well, well, what occasion has he had to
know more? If he had, he could learn it
all, pretty well, in an hour's smart read-
ing."
"All the more! Why the deuce, then,
4.
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does n't he read, and waste an hour upon
such a country as the United States, and
where so many of his kindred are? Con-
found him! he thinks much of himself, as
well he may, because his forefathers were
at Toppington when William came over.
So were mine; or very near by; and until
the time of Henry VIII. they were both in
very much the same rank of life. Then his
ancestor was knighted, and soon got the
Priory out of Cromwell, and then a peerage
out of the king; and they went on marry-
ing money and rising in rank, till since
Walpole's time they 've been earls."
"You'll go, of course,
and his invitation, too?"
66
with your letter
H'm, I am not so sure of that. Where
are you going now?"
"After knocking about a few days, as I
told you, I shall go to Boreham Hall. Sir
Charles has asked me to spend two or three
days."
"Boreham Hall! You'll find it dread-
fully dull."
66
Why? Sir Charles was very compan-
ionable when he was in New York.”
"He was well enough ten years ago;
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
51
good-natured, and a gentleman, and all that.
But he has married, since, a brewer's daugh-
ter, who brought him fifty thousand pounds,
and who is as tame as a sheep, and bleats
just like one; and he's settled down into
a mere squire, and has grown burly and
squirish. But that'll do very well. You're
sure to go to Lord Toppingham's. All
these people know each other, and all about
each other; that's one comfort of their so-
ciety. Boreham Hall is only a few miles
from Toppington Priory, just a pleasant
ride, or walk; and you're sure to go if you
will. It suits me well."
"How?"
66
Why, you see these people are so beset
with their craze after their real Americans
that I've a notion to give my Lord Top-
pingham an opportunity of seeing one. In
your few days of knocking about I can find
one Washington Adams, who 's over here,
I believe, and who's just the sort of man
for the purpose.
I'll send Dr. Tooptoe's
letter to Toppington Priory, enclosed in one
saying I'm prevented from coming myself
for the present, but that I shall take the lib-
erty of introducing a friend, a real Ameri-
+
52
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can.
Yes," with a brightening eye, "by
Jove, I'll do it!"
"Rather a cool proceeding, under the
circumstances."
"Oh, it'll do, under the circumstan-
ces, as you say,—especially if you're there
at the time. I know my man. So when
you're going to the Priory just drop me a
line at B- , and it'll be all right."
"But who is Washington Adams?"
"Don't you know Washington Adams,
the Honorable Washington J. Adams, Wash
Jack Adams, as they call him? Why, he's
the Member of Assembly from your own
district."
"Quite likely; but I don't know him."
"That argues yourself unknown, as I
once heard an editor say to him, with a so-
ber face; and to see him expand and
beam with credulous vanity! He's the son
of old Phelim McAdam, who ran two gin-
mills in Mackerelville,¹ and who instead of
dying in the odor of drunkenness, as you 'd
suppose, hardly ever was drunk in his life;
1 A part of New York corresponding to the Seven Dials in
London. The name, given in derision, has no significance,
and is merely fantastic.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
53
he might have been a drunker and a better
man; he made some money by his gin-
mills, set up respectability, and joined the
Republican party."
“An Irishman in New York join the Re-
publican party!"
"Irishman yourself! as he would have
said. Mr. Phelim McAdam was an Amer-
ican born. Never was such a flagrant ex-
ample of Americanism. Thus it was," in
answer to my look of wonder: "Phelim
McAdam was the son of an Irish emigrant.
He came near being born in no country,
but under the British flag; for his mother
was expecting his appearance on the voy-
age, as she approached the shores of the
home of the free and the land of the brave.
But the lady lagged, or the good ship has-
tened, and Phelim first saw the light of
freedom dimmed by filtering through the
dirty panes of the upper windows of a
Mackerelville tenement house, and bloomed
upon the world a true-born American, what-
ever that may be. His gin-mills brought
him some money, as I said before, and he
married the daughter of a Division Street
pawnbroker, who came out of the Lord
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knows where ! but who was sharp and
smart and ambitious; and at her instigation
he cut his Irish connection, moved up town,
dropped the Mc from his name, and signed
himself 'P. Adam,' to which the lady, who
ere long set up a visiting card, quietly
added an s. And so, in ten or fifteen years,
-you know fifteen years is the beginning
of all things in New York, no one recog-
nized, in a paragraph mentioning, to the
lady's delight, P. Adams, Esq., of East
Eleventh Street,' the McAdam, Phelim,
liquors, Essex Street,' of the earlier New
York directory."
6
6
"You seem strangely well-informed on
such a subject."
"You forget that I've been a railway
lawyer, and am familiar with the lobby.
He bought some shares in one, and, aided
by his wife, got upon the Board."
"His wife?"
"She was a handsome hussy, scheming
and pushing, and as crafty as Satan; and
one winter she went to Albany, where I
saw her, and had occasion to find out all
about her, - all that was find-out - able.
This was long ago; during the civil war.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
55
6
Well, as I was saying, like most of his sort,
he was exceedingly American; and oh, it
was edifying to hear him, with an upper
lip that weighed a pound, and a nose like a
perforated pimple, talk about them low
Irish.' Consequent upon his American
pride, his son- the only one with which
his lady' condescended to favor him-
was borne away from the font with the
name Washington Jackson Adams; which,
when he went into politics—as he did soon
after reaching his majority- was trimmed,
in that elegant style which is distinctive of
New York politics, into Wash Jack Adams;
often it became Washed Adams, and this,
after a certain investigation, the democratic
"Penny Trumpet" converted into White-
washed Adams,
a name that might have
been fastened upon him if he had been im-
portant enough to be talked about. Now,
he's just the sort of creature that our
friends here recognize as a real American;
he's decent-looking enough, not at all
Irish; took after his mother; and I've a
notion of giving some of them a chance to
see him. So, good-by! Don't forget to
let me know." This passed as we neared
56
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his station. He and his portmanteau dis-
appeared; but just as the train was start-
ing he came rushing back, and, looking in,
said, "You've never seen this Washington
Adams?"
"Not I."
"Well, if it should occur to you that
you ever did at any time, keep quiet."
"As a pretty widow about her age."
And on I went toward Boreham.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
57
II.
BOREHAM HALL. SOCIETY IN AMERICA.
BOREHAM HALL was one of those coun-
try houses, found here and there in Eng-
land, which in their time have served many
uses. Its oldest part consisted of a small,
low, square tower, built of flint and rubble,
in which a mixture of red tiles seemed to in-
dicate that it stood upon the site of a yet
older structure, of Roman origin. Another
part, in fine old brickwork, was shown to
have been once a religious house, by the
cross fleury upon its gable and the abbot's
mitre over the principal door. It had not
improbably been an outlying grange of the
great priory at Toppington. To these had
been added, in the latter part of Elizabeth's
reign, a long, two-story, beam-and-plaster
edifice, which contained, among other rooms,
the drawing-room, a library, and a dining-
room; the last bossed and gnarled with
heavy oak carving, and having a great bay-
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window, large enough to hold a dinner-table
and the chairs and guests and servants of a
goodly dinner-party. This window looked
out upon an old moat, which had evidently
some connection with the little tower, and
which, now dry and covered with beautiful
greensward, was still crossed by a bridge
or causeway, over which the great drive
through the park led up to the principal en-
trance, which was in the Elizabethan part
of the house. An opposite window, twice
as broad as it was high, looked out upon a
square court, paved with round stones, three
sides of which were formed by the house,
and the fourth by a wall, in which was a
door leading to the stables. The stone
pavement of the court was pierced by two
yew-trees, which cast a gloomy shadow
through the inner windows, and over a gal-
lery on which the doors and windows of the
upper rooms of the Elizabethan part of the
house opened.
Having written to Sir Charles that I
should reach the nearest station by a cer-
tain train, I found his carriage there, and
was driven across the moat about five o'clock
in the afternoon. My host met me in the
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
59
hall, and gave me a quiet and undemonstra-
tive welcome, which, however, I saw and
felt was a hearty one. After a brief visit
to my room, I went to Lady Boreham's
parlor, where she was about dispensing af-
ternoon tea. As I entered the room it im-
pressed me with a sense of gloomy respect-
ability. It was richly and comfortably
furnished; but although it was, and was
called, "Lady Boreham's parlor," nothing
in it told of the grace and charm of a
woman's presence.
My hostess received me with a sad pro-
priety of demeanor which was somewhat
depressing, but which I found was her gen-
eral manner to all persons, whatever their
rank, from peers and peeresses down to her
own servants. As to herself, her face was
pallid and of a pasty complexion; her hair,
a toneless brown, and twisted at the front
into some stiff curls, that stood like pali-
sades before a queer little cap; her eyes, a
dull gray; her nose, quite shapeless; and
from her always half-open mouth there pro-
jected slightly two large white teeth. She
was not bony, nor even slender; yet a man-
nish absence of roundness and fullness de-
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prived her figure of all the grace and charm
peculiar to womanhood. What she lacked
in this respect, however, appeared in some
excess in Sir Charles. He had, truly,
changed in ten years. He was quite two
stone heavier; the bloom that I had ad-
mired so much on his cheek had deepened in
tint and thickened in quality; although he
was not yet forty, his hair was thinning
rapidly on the top of his head; and his man-
ner had become as heavy as his person. In-
deed, I found, during my brief visit, that for
him life was made up of looking after his
estate, hunting, shooting, reading the Lon-
don "Times," and dinner, last, not least.
He did not read "The Saturday Review"
or "The Spectator;" but Lady Boreham
hungrily gloated upon "The World," of
which I never saw him take any notice,
except by once tossing it contemptuously
out of his way.
Three other guests at Boreham hardly
require mention. One, a younger sister of
my hostess, was almost her mere duplicate;
two and three were a Mr. Grimstone and
his wife, as to whom I could only discover
that he was a member of Parliament and of
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
61
the Carlton Club, and that she was appar-
ently without an idea or an emotion not
connected with the "Court Circular." The
ladies were entirely devoid of personal at-
traction, and their toilets on all occasions
were distressing. How these people man-
aged to live through that part of each suc-
cessive twenty-four hours during which they
were not eating and sleeping was a mystery.
They rarely exchanged a word that was not
required by the ordinary civilities of social
life, as to which they were unexception-
ably and somewhat consciously correct and
proper. And yet there was an air of solid
respectability and good faith about them,
which, although their society was wholly
without charm, even to each other, had a
value that received a constant silent expres-
sion. One felt that they were very safe
people to meet in any relation of life.
There were, of course, the customary at-
tendants of a great house in England. One
of these, Lady Boreham's own maid, whom
I saw on two or three occasions, was one of
the most beautiful women I ever encoun-
tered. I could not look at her without think-
ing of a June rose. Her noble figure was
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just tall enough to be a little distinguished,
and she carried her finely poised head with
such an air that her little cap became a cor-
onet of beauty's nobility. Her manners
were quite as good as Lady Boreham's; and
her manner was as superior as that of the
so-called Venus of Milo might be to that
of the Venus of a burlesque. But if she
had been some sort of attendant clockwork
machine in petticoats, her mistress could not
have treated her with less apparent recogni-
tion of a common humanity. Indeed, I do
verily believe that Lady Boreham was quite
unconscious that here was a woman con-
stantly about her who, whenever she ap-
peared, blotted her mistress out of exist-
ence for any man who had eyes and a brain
behind them. The one fact ever present to
her consciousness, as I discovered, was that
she was Lady Boreham, and had brought
her husband fifty thousand pounds; with
which price she seemed to think that she
had bought a throne and an allegiance from
which she could never be cast out. And she
had, so far as her husband and her guests
were concerned. I must give them the
credit of being, or seeming, as indifferent to
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
63
"Wilkins
was herself.
- the beauty's name as she
Wilkins was a 66 young per-
son" who performed certain needful offices.
in an acceptable manner. It was well that
Sir Charles was not a man of finer percep-
tions and a more flexible nature.
1
Lady Boreham was, however, not without
curiosity; and on my second day at the
Hall she led me to talk about society in
America, as to which her notions seemed
somewhat less correct and clear than those
of a Vassar College ¹ girl might be about
Abyssinian court etiquette. "Did Amer-
ican women like being spiritual wives?
What was a spiritual wife? If Brigham
Young took the hustin's to be President,
would all the women vote for him? Would
all his wives vote for him? What could he
do with them if they did n't? How many
wives had he? Were n't most Americans
Mormons, or Spiritualists, or somethin'?
Was it true that American women could
get a divorce whenever they liked? And
was it true”—with a furtive glance at the
window where Maud sat netting—“that in
1 At Poughkeepsie, on the Hudson: founded by an Eng-
lish brewer who grew rich there: the typical officina of sweet
girl graduates.
•
!
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America a man might marry his deceased
wife's sister? Did all Americans live at
'otels? And did American women come
down to breakfast in full dress and di'-
mon's?”
The temptation was sore to give to these
and like questions the replies which my
hostess would have been pleased to receive;
but I refrained myself, and told her the
simple truth, to her astonishment and hardly
concealed disappointment. The point as to
which I had most difficulty in making my
explanations understood was the difference
of the laws in the several States as to mar-
riage and divorce. Lady Boreham could
not have been was not, I found — igno-
rant of the difficulties that might arise in
England because of Scotch marriages and
Irish marriages; and yet she could not well
apprehend that a woman might be legally
married in Connecticut, and yet her mar-
riage be at least disputable in New York,
and that a divorce would be granted in In-
diana upon grounds which would not be suf-
ficient in New Jersey. To her, as to most
of her sort in England, "the States
"America," and America was governed by
were
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
65
the President and Congress, -the former,
a kind of political Pope; the latter, a gen-
eral legislative body, with the omnipotence
of Parliament.
As I was explaining to her that Congress
had to all intents and purposes no power
over the individual lives and the personal
relations of citizens of the United States;
and that even murder, unless committed on
the high seas, or in a fort or national vessel,
was a crime, not against the laws of the
United States, but against those of an in-
dividual State; and that debts were con-
tracted under State laws, so that even the
Supreme Court, the most important and
powerful tribunal in the country, had no
jurisdiction over them, except in certain
specific cases, the Member of Parliament,
who was in the room, now reading a big
blue-book, now listening, pricked up his
ears, and said
"Yes; and your Supreme Court has made
a nice mess of your national credit two or
.three times; sustaining American repudia-
tion of debts, refusing to pay money lent
in good faith by British capitalists. Not
very wise, permit me to say, thus to make
5
66
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repudiation a national characteristic, sup-
ported by your highest tribunal.”
"I beg your pardon," I replied, "but
perhaps you know that the United States
government has incurred rather a large in-
debtedness during the last twenty years.
Will you kindly inform me if you know of
the repudiation of any part of this debt?"
Well, no no; not at all, not at all;
quite the contrary, I must admit. That
debt was something quite awful; and it's
been acknowledged and put in course of
liquidation in a manner that—that — why,
nobody expected anything of the sort."
-
“And why not, sir? let me ask. Why
was it not expected? Has the United States
government been in the habit of repudiat-
ing its debts?"
"Well, no-no; not exactly the govern-
ment of the United States, I believe; but
Pennsylvania, and Tennessee, and Virginia.
They 're in America, are n't they?"
"I've heard that Turkey has also failed
to pay British creditors. Why have you ·
not applied to the Supreme Court of the
United States to compel the Turks to pay
the interest and principal of their bonds?”
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
67
"Bless my soul, sir, your Supreme Court
has no jurisdiction in Turkey! You have
n't quite annexed the Sultan and his do-
minions yet. You're joking; setting up
for an American humorist.”
"Not at all. I should n't presume to at-
tempt so high a flight. Never was more
serious in my life. Without going into par-
ticulars, I venture to say that in every case
which you could have had in mind the
Supreme Court merely decided the question
of its own jurisdiction; and I venture also
to suggest that if British capitalists would
not be so blinded by the hope of getting six
or seven per cent., instead of three, as to
neglect making those inquiries as to the
ability of borrowers in foreign countries,
and as to the means of redress in default
of payment, which they make at home, it
would be wiser and more business-like; al-
though I must admit that such a course
might be open to the objection of involving
some little study of so trifling and disagree-
able a subject as the political structure and
internal polity of the United States." And
after a moment of silence I turned again
to the ladies.
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"Now do tell us," said the M. P.'s wife,
"how you manage society in America. I
suppose you don't manage it at all. How
could you? You've no Court, no peerage,
no county families. I suppose everybody
goes everywhere, and visits everybody else,
if they like. It must be amusin', in a cer-
tain way; but do you find it agreeable?"
My reply it is not necessary to report in
detail; and when the ladies had gathered
from it that, notwithstanding the lack of a
Court and a peerage, everybody did not go
everywhere in America, and that social ex-
clusiveness and even social arrogance and
the desire for social distinction and success
were quite as great in America as in Eng-
land, they looked at me and at each other
with an expression of weak astonishment.
66
Why," said Lady Boreham, "I thought
you were democrats and communists and
and that sort of thing, and that you thought
that nobody was any better than anybody
else; although some of you, I believe, are
awfully rich."
"Democracy, madam, in America is con-
fined jealously to politics. As to wealth,
money has rather more brute power in the
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
69
United States, and particularly in New
York, than it has in England - where I
believe it has not a little — or in any other
country in the world; and as to the effect
of democracy upon society in America, it
is briefly to beget a belief that on the
one hand nobody is any better than you
are, and on the other that very few are as
good."
“Dear me,
dear me! Then
Then you have
exclusive circles in America too?"
"So exclusive that people may, and do
in cases numberless, live in the same neigh-
borhood, and even next door to each other,
for years, and never speak, and hardly know
each other's names. So exclusive that often
the richer of these neighbors would be very
glad to obtain, by a considerable sacrifice,
an entrance to the entertainments of the
poorer."
"Dear, dear! Quite like w'at it is at
'ome; and I thought it was so different."
"Very like, indeed, so far as I may ven-
ture to have an opinion. For, strange to
say, a democratic form of government has
not yet produced in America any very great
or manifest change in men as individuals.
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There still remains a great deal of human
nature in the men and women there; nor
does there yet appear much power in de-
mocracy to cast it out. As to the process
called in both countries, I believe, getting
into society, I have known a woman of
great wealth, intelligence, and an untar-
nished reputation, push, and crawl, and
bully, and flatter, spend money like water,
be snubbed, and lie down and be trodden
upon for years, to work her way into a cer-
tain set, and fail utterly."
Dear, dear!" again bleated Lady Bore-
ham from under the teeth; "just like w'at
it is at 'ome."
"And then this woman, having by luck
or contrivance, or both, obtained the notice
and the favor of some distinguished person
at home or abroad, was all at once taken up
by society, and flaunted it grandly among
the very people who a few years before
treated her as if they were Brahmins and
she a Pariah."
"Oh, that's just like it is at 'ome!"
cried Maud, from the window. "For don't
you remember, Charlotte, how that hand-
some Mrs."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
71
"Hush, Maud!" said Lady Boreham.
"What can you know about it? "
"Yes, ‘Hush, my dear, lie still and slum-
ber,'" was heard from behind Sir Charles's
"Times," followed by a little rumble of
laughter.
Come," he said, seeing, I suspect, that
I was a little weary of my society talk,
"let's go to the stables, and I'll show you
my dark bay, Tempest; the finest horse
across country in Marlshire: takes any-
thing I'll let him go at."
72
THE FATE OF
III.
TOPPINGTON PRIORY.— LORD TOPPINGHAM
SEES A "6 'REAL AMERICAN."
HUMPHREYS was right. A day or two
afterward there came from the Priory an
invitation to the Borehams to meet some
people who were to be there at luncheon, in
an informal way. "You'll go with us, of
course," said Sir Charles. "We know the
Toppinghams well, and they'll be very
pleased to see you."
Indeed, the Borehams did know the Top-
pinghams well, and Borehams had known
Toppinghams for generations. They had
been neighbors and friends, or neighbors
and enemies, almost ever since England
was England. They had fought Duke Wil-
liam at Hastings, and were among those
who had been allowed to retain their little
estates as vassals of one of the Conqueror's
great barons. They fought together at
Agincourt, each with his spear or two and
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
73
his dozen or score of bowmen, under the
banner of the lord of their marches. They
had fought each other in the Wars of the
Roses, when the Toppinghams were Lan-
castrians and the Borehams Yorkists. To-
gether they had resisted the tyranny of
Charles I., and had supported Sir William
Waller fondly called by the Parliament
party William the Conqueror - in his tri-
umphant march through the western coun-
ties; and together they had joined him in
his defection from the Parliament, when it
became revolutionary. There had been an
intermarriage or two, in olden times; but
of later years the Toppinghams had become
ambitious in this respect, as well as in all
others, while the Borehams went on their
steady way, as simple English gentlemen.
But such knowledge and friendship through
centuries is full of meaning. There are no
shams about it, or uncertainties or possible
concealments.
The ladies and the M. P. drove over in
a pony phaeton and a landau; but Sir
Charles and I rode, he grumbling a little at
losing a day's shooting. With our two
grooms we made a pretty little cavalcade
74
THE FATE OF
on that bright, soft September morning;
and we delighted in ourselves and in each
other, as we trotted gently through the no-
ble beauty of the grandly timbered park.
The Priory was a large, handsome, irreg-
ular stone pile, showing plainly its ecclesi-
astical origin; but it presented no remark-
able features to distinguish it from many
other great houses of its sort in England.
Lord Toppingham received us in the hall
with a bland but hearty welcome, in which
there was a little spirit that was lacking
even in Sir Charles's kindliness when I
arrived at Boreham; and his warm hand
pressure and "So you've come at last," as
he led us up the great staircase, made me
feel that I had done well in accepting his
double invitation. It also relieved me a
little of my concern as to Humphreys' pro-
ject; for I had not neglected to inform him
of our proposed visit.
Our pleasure-mine, at least-was very
much enhanced by our reception by Lady
Toppingham, a fine elegant woman of about
thirty years of age, very gentle of speech
and gracious of manner, but with a mani-
fest capacity of dash on good occasion. I
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
75
suspect that she hunted; nor should I have
objected to see that figure, lithe with all its
largeness, in a riding habit, and on a wor-
thy, well-groomed horse. A certain sense
of spirit and force seemed to pervade the
air at Toppingham, and to distinguish it
from the sober, comfortable respectability
of the house that we had left. I learned
that Lady Toppingham's title, although not
her coronet, was hers by birthright; she be-
ing the second daughter of the Marquis of
A. Her dress was in such perfect taste
A-
that it attracted no attention; we saw only
her grace of movement and beauty of form.
Two or three guests were in the room
with her when we entered; and out on the
terrace, upon which a large window opened,
were as many more, of whom hereafter.
After salutation and a brief matter-of-course
chat, we all went out upon the terrace to
enjoy the air and the beauty of the park,
stretching far away from the other side of
a large old-fashioned garden, formally laid
out, and planted with varied flowers in
great masses of color.
I could not but remark the bearing of
Lady Boreham and her sister to Lady Top-
76
THE FATE OF
""
pingham. It might not, perhaps, be said
that they cringed to her; but they fawned
upon her, and "dear-Lady-Toppinghamed
her to herself and to each other in whining
adulation. Once, as I watched this toady-
ing, I caught a light flash of scorn from
her glancing eye, which made her beautiful.
As to Sir Charles, he was as much at his
unconscious ease as if he were a duke.
There were no introductions, and after a
glance at my fellow-guests, I attached my-
self to a young man of unmistakable sol-
dierly bearing, who was standing apart in
silence. He was a fine-looking fellow, with
a simple and almost boyish face, whisker-
less, but with a sweeping blonde mustache,
to which from time to time he gave a pull;
not foppish or military, but rather medita-
tive. I liked these young English officers
and their fellows, who, if not soldiers, were
the stuff out of which soldiers are made
men who had been taught to ride, to shoot,
and to speak the truth, and, who, indeed,
most of them, knew little else. Coming
from New York, I found a sense of relief
in their mere physical repose and manly
steadiness. Their serenity seemed to me
;
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
77
like that which looks at us out of the mar-
ble eyes of the old Greek statues.
I was reminded by it of a story told me
in my youth by a friend of my father's age,
who, sitting by an English lady of rank at
a ball in New York, when he was a young
man, saw that she was scrutinizing with
great interest the young people on the floor.
He broke the silence by asking, "Well,
what do you think of them? Not quite
equal to your lads and lasses in England,
are they?" "On the contrary," she re-
plied, "I never saw finer young people in
my life, nor better mannered. The girls
are lovely; and as to the stories we've been
told about their not having good figures,
it's simply nonsense. But I was n't think-
ing of the girls." "Well, the young men ?"
They're fine fellows too, most of them,
and well mannered; but, if you 'll pardon
me, as to their manner and their look
"Well?" "Nothing, nothing; but they
all look so sharp, as if they had their
eyes out on everybody else, and were n't
quite sure of their surroundings. Now,
with us, young fellows of their age and
breeding would n't have the occasion to
66
""
78
THE FATE OF
ers.
look sharp." The elderly friend who re-
peated to me this bit of social criticism, and
who must have heard it quite fifty years
ago, said that he could not but admit its
justice in regard to the young New York-
Were he living, what would he say
now? Nevertheless, that there is in some
of these young British lion-cubs stuff which
the world's grindstone brings to a sharpness
that puts to shame the craft of a Christian
Greek or a Heathen Chinee, some of their
American acquaintances have learned, to
their sorrow.•
My young friend on the terrace proved to
be Captain the Honorable John Surcingle,
of Her Majesty's 9th Dragoon Guards, sec-
ond son of the Earl of Martingale, and my
hostess's cousin. After a few words, I asked
him to tell me the names of some of those
around us, other than our own party.
"'Pon my life! can't say. Don't know
where Toppin'em finds all his people. Top-
pin'em's vewy jolly; awfully nice fellow
himself, you know; but" - Here he
stopped, and, screwing his glass into his eye,
looked quietly around for a few moments.
"Wather wum lot. Litwawy persons,
or somethin', I sh'd say, most of 'em.'
""
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
79
The captain's instincts had not misled
him, as erelong I myself discovered. His
"rum lot" included, among others who were
literary, or something, Professor Schlamm,
of the University of Bonn, who was on his
first visit to England, to make arrangements
for the publication, simultaneously, in Eng-
lish and German, of his profound work in
three volumes octavo on "The Unity in Du-
ality of the English Nation from the days
of Hengist and Horsa to those of Victoria
and Albert." Then there was Lady Veri-
fier, the young middle-aged widow of old Sir
Duns Verifier, F. R. S. A., of the British
Museum, who was knighted for having elab-
orated a stupendous plan of cataloguing the
library of that institution, which upon trial
proved so utterly impracticable and worth-
less that the old book-mole, smitten with
shame and disappointment, went speedily to
his grave; leaving his widow to enter lit-
erary life by publishing "Shadows of the
Soul," a poem in which art was shown to be
"the plastic form of religion."
Of the others, there was now noteworthy
only Mrs. Longmore, who was known as
the authoress of "Immaculate," a novel in
.
80
THE FATE OF
which the somewhat startling experiences
of the heroine were said by some people to
be in a certain degree autobiographical.
Lady Verifier was spare, angular, and
sallow, with large black eyes and coarse
black hair, like a squaw's; a sort of woman
less uncommon in England than she is sup-
posed to be. Mrs. Longmore was her very
opposite: fair, plump almost to portliness,
with moist blue eyes and moist red lips.
There were one or two others of their sort
and the rest of our little company were un-
remarkable folk, of the Toppingham and
Boreham class.
Erelong a servant entered, with a card
upon a salver, which he presented to our
hostess, who, after glancing at it a moment
with a puzzled look, said, "To my lord."
On receiving it, his lordship handed it to
me, saying, "From your friend. He sent
me a letter of introduction from Tooptoe at
Oxford; said he could n't come just now
himself, and asked the favor of introducin',
just for a mornin' visit, an American gen-
tleman, in whom he felt sure I should be
interested. It's all right, I suppose?" It
was simply Humphreys' card, with a line in
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
81
pencil, “introducing the Hon. Washington
J. Adams."
"I don't know Mr. Adams," I said; "but
I do know that Mansfield Humphreys would
give a card to no one who might not be
properly received by the gentleman to whom
it was addressed.”
Here Captain Surcingle, whose attention
had been arrested, and who had heard my
reply, cried out "'Mewican? Have him up,
Toppin 'em, have him up! Those fellows
are such fun! I always go to see the 'Me-
wican Cousin. Not faw Dundweawy. Can't
see what they make such a doosid fuss about
him faw. Does nothin' but talk just like
'fellow at the Wag: wegla' muff. Nevah
saw such a boa. But Twenchard 's awful
fun; good as goin' to 'Mewica without the
boa of goin'."
As the Honorable John began his appeal,
his lady cousin stepped across the terrace to
pluck a rose which peered at us over the
stone balustrade, blushing with shame at its
beautiful intrusion; and as she swept past
him, I partly heard and partly saw her say,
in an earnest whisper, "Jack, do be quiet;
and don't be such a goose!"
6
82
THE FATE OF
She had hardly returned with her flower,
when the servant who had been sent out
reappeared, announcing "Mr. Adams;" and
all eyes followed our host, as he stepped for-
ward to receive the unknown guest. As
unabashed as a comet crossing the orbit of
Jupiter on its way to the sun, the Honora-
ble Washington entered the Priory circle,
and advanced to Lord Toppingham. The
Earl offered him his hand. He took it, and
then he shook it, shook it well; and to a
few of the usual words of welcome he re-
plied, "I'm very glad to see you, my lord;
most happy to hev the pleasure of meetin'
your lordship" (looking round) "here in
your elegant doughmain and gorjis castle.
My friend Mr. Humphreys told me I'd find
everything here fuss class; an' I hev. Your
man help down stairs wuz a leetle slow, to
be sure; but don't apologize; difference of
institootions, I s'pose. Everything moves a
leetle slower here."
As Lord Toppingham led Mr. Adams to
our hostess, eyes of wonder, not unmixed
with pleasure, were bent upon him. He was
a man of middle size, neither tall nor slen-
der; but he stooped a little from his hips,
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
83
and his head was slightly thrust forward,
with an expression of eagerness, as he
slouched along the terrace. His upper lip
was shaved; but his sallow face terminated
in that adornment known at the West as
"chin-whiskers." His hat, which he kept
on, was of felt, with a slightly conical crown.
It rested rather on the back than on the top
of his head, and from it fell a quantity of
longish straight brown hair. His splendid
satin scarf was decorated with a large pin,
worthy of its position; and the watch-chain
that stretched across his waistcoat would
have held a yacht to its moorings. His
outer garment left the beholder in doubt
whether it was an overcoat that he was
wearing as a duster, or a duster doing ser-
vice as an overcoat. Into the pockets of
this he thrust his hands deep, and moved
them back and forth from time to time,
giving the skirts a wing-like action. Hav-
ing taken Lady Toppingham's hand, and
shaken that too, and assured her of his
pleasure in meeting her also, he put his
own back into its appropriate pocket, and,
gently flapping his wings, repeated, “Yes,
maʼam; very happy to hev the pleasure of
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THE FATE OF
meetin' your ladyship. Hope my call ain't
put you out any ; but I s'pose you 're used
to seein' a goodle o' company in the surprise
way.'
"I am always pleased to receive any
friend of my lord's or of Dr. Tooptoe's,"
said Lady Toppingham, seating herself upon
one of the stone benches of the terrace; and
Lord Toppingham turned as if to lead Mr.
Adams away. But that gentleman imme-
diately sat himself down by her side, and,
crossing his legs, was evidently preparing to
make himself agreeable. A slight shade of
reserve with which she had taken her seat
deepened for a moment, and then instantly
gave way to a look of good-natured amuse-
ment; and I saw, to my relief, that she
appreciated the situation. "You've been
in our little England before, I suppose, Mr.
Adams?"
"No, ma'am, I hev n't. My plit❜cle
dooties as a member of the legislater of
the Empire State hev pervented. Empire
State's Noo York, 'z I s'pose your lady-
ship knows. Motto, Ex-celsior, an' the risin'
sun; out of Longfeller's poem, you know."
"I do know Mr. Longfellow's charming
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
85
poem. We're great admirers of Mr. Long-
fellow in England; indeed, we think him
quite an English poet."
"Wal, ma'am, you 're 'baout right there;
'xcept in callin' him an English poet. He's
a true Muh'kin; an' he kin beat Tennyson,
an' all the rest of 'em, at writin' po'try,
any day, let 'em do their level best. Why,
he's written more vollums of poetry — fuss-
class poetry, too than any man that ever
lived; more 'n Dr. Holland. Lives in fuss-
class style, too, if he is a poet. Should n't
wonder if there wa'nt a broker in Wall
Street that lives in higher style 'n Long-
feller."
At this triumphant utterance Mr. Ad-
ams took off his hat, and I feared he was
about to wave it; but the movement was
only one of momentary relief, perhaps, to
his enthusiasm, and he at once restored it
to its perilous inclination.
Lord Toppingham now stepped up to cre-
ate a diversion in favor of his beleaguered
wife, and, standing before the pair, asked
Mr. Adams if he had been in London while
Parliament was sitting.
66
Wal, yaas, I wuz," replied the leg-
86
THE FATE OF
islator, keeping his seat and looking up;
"'n' I went to see it; 'n' to tell the truth
'n' the hull truth, I wuz dis'pinted. Glad-
stone 's a smart man, but slow, I shed say,
mighty slow; ain't learned not to craowd
himself, nuther; bites off more 'n he kin
chaw. 'N' I did n't hear no elo-quence;
nobody did n't seem to take no intrust into
what was goin' on. You hev got a pow-
erful han'some buildin' fur the meetin' of
your legislater; but jess you wait 'n' see
the noo Capitol 't Albany, 'n' you'll sing
small, I — tell you. Yes, siree."
As this conversation went on, some of
the other guests had approached, and there
was a little group around our hostess and
Mr. Adams, who now, to the evident hor-
ror of some of them, drew from his pocket
a gigantic knife, with a set-spring at the
back; indeed, it was a clasp bowie-knife.
Opening it with a tremendous click, he
strapped it a little on his shoe, and then
looked doubtfully at the bench on which he
sat. Evidently dissatisfied with the induce-
ment which its stone surface offered, he
drew from one of his capacious pockets a
piece of pine wood about as thick as a heavy
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
87
broomstick, and began to cut it in a medi-
tative manner.
"Don't git much whittlin' into your ef
fete old monarchies. Even the benches,
when they ain't stun, air oak, that 'd turn
the edge of any gen'leman's knife; 'n' so I
carry suthin' comfortable raound with me;
and as he spoke the light shavings curled
away from his stick, and rolled upon the
terrace floor.
Lady Toppingham was as serene as a har-
vest moon, and was evidently much amused
with her visitor; and the rest looked on
with an interest and a satisfaction which
were manifest in their countenances.
"Your lordship does suthin' in this way,
I reckon. Guess all you lords air in the
lumber line; 'n' I seen some fuss-class trees
inter the vacant lots raound your haouse
castle, I mean. S'pose that's the reason
you don't improve. Much doin' in lum-
ber naow?"
"Not much," said our host, with a pleas-
ant smile. "I'm more inclined to keep my
trees than to sell them, at present. But let
me make you acquainted with some of my
friends. Mr. Grimstone, member for Hil-
chester Towers."
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THE FATE OF
"Haow do you do, Mr. Grimstone ? "
said Adams, rising; and shifting his knife
to his left hand, he took the M. P.'s, and
shaking it vigorously, said, "Happy to hev
the pleasure of meetin' you, sir. Don't
know you personally, but know you very
well by reputtation."
As our host looked next at me, I man-
aged to convey to him an unspoken request
not to be introduced, which he respected;
but my friend the captain, stepping forward,
was presented, with the added comment
that Mr. Adams would find him well up
about guns and rifles and fire-arms of all
kinds; quite an authority, indeed, upon
that subject.
"Dew tell? Why, I'm glad to hev the
pleasure of meetin' you, sir. Look a' here!
I kin show you suthin' fuss-class in that
line;" and putting his hand behind him, un-
derneath his coat, he produced a large pis-
tol, a navy revolver, which he exhibited in
a demonstrative way to the captain, saying,
"Naow that's suthin' satisfactory fur a
gen'leman to hev about him; no little pea-
shootin' thing, that you might empty into a
man 'thout troublin' him more 'n so many
flea-bites."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
89
The captain looked at it with interest,
while some of the other guests shrank away.
After a brief examination, he returned it,
saying, “Vewy fine, vewy fine indeed ; and
I hear you use 'em at vewy long distances,
almost like a wifle."
"Sartin," said Mr. Adams. "Look a'
here! See that thar tree yonder?" and
pointing to one on the other side of the gar-
den, he threw up his left arm, and took a
sight rest on it. Some of the ladies screamed,
and the captain and Lord Toppingham both
caught his arm, the latter exclaiming, "Beg
pahdon, don't fire, please! Somebody might
be passin' in the park.
""
"Wal, jess's you like, sir. You air to
hum, 'n' I ain't. But that's the diff'kilty
'ith England. Th'r' ain't no libbuty here.
You've allers got to be thinkin' 'baout
somebody else."
The incident certainly created a little un-
pleasant excitement; yet after this had sub-
sided, it seemed not to have diminished, but
rather to have increased, the satisfaction
with which Mr. Adams was regarded. The
Professor came up, and said, “Our Ameri-
gan
vrent is ferry kint sooch an exhipition
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THE FATE OF
of the manners and gustoms of his gountry
to gif. Barehaps he vould a var-tance bare-
form vor the inztrugzion oond blaysure off
dthe gompany."
"No, no, Professor Schlamm," said Lady
Toppingham, smiling, "we won't put Mr.
Adams to the trouble of a war-dance; and
we've so narrowly escaped one blessure
that we may well be willing to forego the
other." As my hostess struck off this little
spark, I observed that her French was not
that of the school of Stratford atte Bowe,
which continues much in vogue in England
even among ladies of the prioress's rank.
Adams caught at the name as an intro-
duction. "Is this," he said, "the celebrated
Professor Schlamm?" and seizing his hand,
he shook it well. "Happy to make your
acquaintance, sir. Your fame, sir, is widely
ex-tended over the civil-ized globe. Hev n't
hed the pleasure of meetin' you before, sir,
but know you very well by reputtation."
The Professor, who had all the simple
vanity of the vainest race in the world,
beamed under the influence of this compli-
ment, so that his very spectacles seemed to
glow with warmth and light.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
91
"You German gen'l'men air fond of our
naytional plant," said Adams blandly.
"Hev a cigar? Won't you jine me?" and
he produced from his pocket two or three
temptations.
"Dthanks; poot it might not to dthe
laties pe acreeable."
"No? Wal, then, here goes fur the gin-
ooine article. I'm 'baout tuckered aout fur
some." Saying this he took from his pocket
a brown plug, cut off a piece, and having
shaped and smoothed it a little with his
huge knife, he laid it carefully with his fore-
finger in his cheek. Then, his knife being
out, he took the opportunity to clean his
nails; and having scraped the edges until
our blood curdled, he returned his weapon,
after a loud click, to his pocket.
A look of distress had come over the face
of our hostess when Mr. Adams produced
his plug; and she called a servant, who,
after receiving an order from her in a low
voice, went out. Mr. Adams's supplemen-
tary toilet being completed, he slouched
away towards the balustrade; and after
looking a few moments across the garden,
he turned about, and, leaning against the
92
THE FATE OF
stone, he began an expectorative demonstra-
tion. After he had made two or three vio-
lent and very obtrusive efforts of this kind,
which, however, I must confess, did not seem
to leave much visible witness before us, the
servant returned hastily with a spittoon, the
fabric and condition of which showed very
plainly that it came from no part of the pri-
ory that rejoiced in the presence of Lady
Toppingham. This the footman placed be-
fore Mr. Adams, within easy range.
"Nev' mind," said that gentleman,
"nev' mind. Sorry you took the trouble,
sonny. I don't set up fur style; don't
travel onto it. I'm puffickly willin' to sit
down along 'th my fren's, and spit raound
sociable. I know I wear a biled shirt 'n'
store clothes, that's a fact; but's a grace-
ful con-ciliation of and deference to public
opinion, considerin' I'm a member of the
legislater of the Empire State."
"Biled?" said Captain Surcingle to me,
inquiringly (for we had kept pretty close
together). "Mean boiled?"
"Yes."
"Boil shirts in 'Mewica?"
"Always."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
93
"Your shirt boiled?"
N-no; not exactly. I should have said
that all our wealthiest and most distin-
guished citizens, members of the legislature
and the like, boil their shirts. I make no
such pretensions.”
This
The captain looked at me doubtfully.
But our talk and Mr. Adams's perfor
mances were brought to a close by the an-
nouncement of luncheon, and an invitation
from our host to the dining-room.
mid-day repast is quite informal; but, com-
paratively unrestrained as it is by etiquette,
rank and precedence are never quite forgot-
ten at it, or on any other occasion, in Eng-
land; and there being no man of rank pres-
ent, except our host, and Sir Charles being
far down the terrace, talking hunt and horse
with another squire, Mr. Grimstone was
moving toward Lady Toppingham, with the
expectation of entering with her, when Mr.
Adams stepped quickly up, and saying,
"Wal, I don't keer ef I dew jine you; 'low
me the pleasure, ma' am," he offered her his
arm. She took it. Mr. Grimstone retreated
in disorder, and we all went in somewhat
irregularly. As we passed through the hall,
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THE FATE OF
and approached the dining-room, it occurred
to Mr. Adams to remove his hat; and he
then looked about, and up and down, in
evident search of a peg on which to hang
it. A servant stepped forward and held out
his hand for it. After a brief hesitation he
resigned it, saying, "Ain't ye goin' to give
me no check for that? Haow do I know
I'll git it agin? Haowever, it's Lord Top-
pingham's haouse, an' he's responsible, I
guess. That's good law, ain't it, your
Lordship?"
"Excellent," said our host, evidently
much pleased that Lady Toppingham had
taken this opportunity to continue on her
way to the dining-room, where we found
her with Mr. Grimstone on her right hand,
and a vacant seat on her left, between her
and her cousin, to which she beckoned me;
Mr. Adams, the Professor, and the two au-
thoresses forming a little group near Lord
Toppingham.
"I hope," said the M. P. to me, as we
settled ourselves at table, "that you are
pleased with your Mr. Washington Adams.
I, for one, own that such a characteristic
exhibition of genuine American character
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
95
and manners is, if not exactly agreeable, a
very entertaining subject of study."
The taunt itself was less annoying than
its being flung at me across our hostess;
but as I could not tell him so without shar-
ing his breach of good manners, I was about
to let his remark pass, with a silent bow,
when a little look of encouragement in Lady
Toppingham's eyes led me to say, "As to
your entertainment, sir, I have no doubt
that you might find as good at home with-
out importing your Helots. As to Mr.
Adams being my Mr. Washington Adams,
he is neither kith nor kin of any of my
people, to whom he would be an occasion
of as much curious wonder as he is to any
person at this table.”
Oh, that won't do at all. He is one of
your legislators, the Honorable Wash-
ington Adams. You Americans are a very
strange people; quite incomprehensible to
our poor, simple English understandings."
I did not continue the discussion, which I
saw would be as fruitless as, under the cir-
cumstances, it was unpleasant, and indeed
almost inadmissible, notwithstanding the
gracious waiver of my hostess.
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Luncheon engaged the attention of us all
for a while, notwithstanding the presence
of Mr. Adams; but nevertheless he contin-
ued to be the chief object of attention; and
erelong he was heard saying, with an ele-
vated voice, in evident continuation of a de-
scription of a legislative scene, "The feller,
sir, had the lip to perpose to investigate
me; but I told him, sir, that I courted in-
vestigation, and I claimed that he was no
better than a scallawag and a shyster: and
I gripped him, sir, and skun him, — skun
him clean as an eel.”
Captain Surcingle, who had been regard-
ing the speaker with all the earnestness
that his glass admitted, turned to me, and
said, with soft inquiry -
"Skun? 'Mewican for skinned?”
"Yes; all true Americans say skun.”
“Vewy queeah way of speakin' English;"
and he was about to subside into silence,
when all at once a bright gleam of intelli-
gence came into his face, and he broke out,
"Oh, I say! that won't do. You're 'Mewi-
can; an' you don't say skun or scallawag;
and the good fellow regarded me with a
look of triumph.
""
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
97
"Yes," I replied; "but you see I'm not
a full-blooded American, as Mr. Adams is,
only a Yankee.
Then I've had some
special advantages. I've been in Canada;
and that is still one of the British posses-
sions. Besides, I'm fond of reading; and
friends in England have sent me a few Lon-
don books, -books with honor' spelled
with a u, and all that sort of thing. Don't
you see?"
<
“Ah, yes. Just so, just so; quite so.”
And now he was silent. But candor com-
pels me to admit that he did not seem to be
quite satisfied, and that, as he slowly ate
jugged hare, he appeared to be wrestling
with some intellectual problem that was too
much for him.
Here the butler asked Mr. Adams if he
should not change his plate.
"Wal, yes,
sir, ef you'd like to. I'm sure I've no
'bjecshin." Another plate was placed be-
fore him, and he was asked what he would
have. "Wal, I guess I'll take a leetle
more o' th' same, that thar pie thar, 'ith
the chicken fixins into it," pointing with a
wave of his knife at a pheasant pie, of
which he had just eaten. "I call that fuss-
7
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class, I do. Does you credit, ma'am," he
said blandly, addressing the countess,
"does you credit. I must get you to give
me the receipt for Mrs. Adams. You air
slow here, an' a goodle behind the lighter;
but 'baout eatin' and drinkin'
air pooty
smart, I calklate.”
you air
Here Lord Toppingham, probably to di-
vert attention from Mr. Adams, looking
across the table at me, expressed his sur-
prise that so little had been produced in
American literature and art that was pecu-
liarly American; that all our best writers
wrote merely as Englishmen would, treating
the same subjects; and that our painters and
sculptors seemed to form their styles upon
those of Italy and Greece.
"Yes, indeed," said Lady Verifier.
"Where is that effluence of the new-born
individual soul that should emanate from a
fresh and independent democracy, the pos-
sessors of a continent, with a Niagara and
a Mississippi between two vast oceans?
You profess to be a great people, but you
have evolved no literature, no art of your
You see the sun rise from the Atlan-
tic, and set in the Pacific; and it seems to
own.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
99
do you no good, but to send you to Europe
for your language and to Japan for your
decoration."
"Lady Ferifier is fery right," said Profes-
sor Schlamm. "Ameriga is a gountry of
brovound dizabbointment to dthe vilozovig
mind. It is pig oond rich; poot noding
orichinal toes it brotuce."
"Nothing that springs from the soil and
savors of the soil," said Lady Verifier.
66
Except its Washington Adamses,” said
the M. P., in a surly undertone.
"My lord," I answered, "your question
and Lady Verifier's remind me of a para-
graph that I saw quoted from a London
sporting paper, a short time ago, about
American horses." (Here Captain Surcin-
gle dropped his knife and fork, and turned
his glass on me.) "It accounted for the
fact that American horses had won so many
cups lately by the other fact that the Amer-
icans had been importing English horses,
and thus had improved their stock; so that
in truth the cups had been won by England,
after all."
"That's jolly good," said the captain.
"Now that is quite true.
But it is only
Uor M
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half the truth; for the whole truth is that
all our horses are English. The horse is not
indigenous to America.
Neither are we.
We are not autochthones, as by your ex-
pectations it would seem you think us. We
are not products of the soil. We are not
the fruit of Niagara or the prairies, which
most of us have never been within five hun-
dred miles of; nor of the oceans, which few
of us have ever seen. We are what we are
by race and circumstances; not because we
live on a certain part of the earth's surface.
If you want a literature and an art that
smack of the soil, you must go to Sitting
Bull and Squatting Bear, with whom we
have no other relations than we, or you,
have with the cave-dwellers. Nor do Amer-
icans live and manage their affairs with the
purpose of satisfying the philosophic mind,
of working out interesting social problems,
or of creating a new literature and a new
art, but simply to get, each one of them, as
much material comfort out of life and the
world as to him is possible; a not very
novel notion in the human creature."
"And so, sir," said Mr. Adams, speaking
to me for the first time, in tones which,
Maou
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
101
when addressed to me, seemed to have
something familiar in them, "that is your
patriotic veoo of your country? And may
I ask what good thing you think is peculiar
to 'Muh'ky?"
“Food for the hungry and freedom for
the oppressed."
"Nothing else?" asked our host.
"Nothing."
"But to the wide benevolence of an
American democrat I suppose that is
enough," said Lady Toppingham.
"Pardon me, madam, but I sometimes
think that birth and breeding in a demo-
cratic country may make men aristocrats of
the blackest dye; and I go about fancying
that some of us ought to have been guillo-
tined forty or fifty years before we were
born, as enemies to the human race."
"Oh, I say," cried the captain, "that
won't do! Couldn't guillotine 'fellah b'foah
he was bawn, you know."
"Nevertheless, my dear captain, I'm in-
clined to believe that it might better have
been done."
"Vewy stwange," drawled the Honora-
ble John.
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Here Mr. Adams, as he was regarding
me with fixed and desperate eye, drew his
bowie-knife from his pocket and opened it;
but before the horror of an expected on-
slaught upon me could well have thrilled
the company, he quieted all apprehensions,
if not all nerves, by picking his teeth with
it in a very deliberate manner.
Meantime the two authoresses and the
Professor were talking with animation;
and I heard fragmentarily, "dear Walt
Whitman," "most enthralling of American
writers," "egsbrezzion of dthe droo Amer-
igan sbirit;" and Lord Toppingham, look-
ing at our end of the table, said, "Our lit-
erary friends here insist that you have one
truly representative author; one who rep-
resents, not perhaps your cultured classes,
but the feelin's and hopes and aspirations.
of those people who are the true represen-
tatives of the American genius.
Yaas," said Mr. Adams.
""
"As to that, I can only refer you to Mr.
Stedman, a writer whom some of your Vic-
torian Poets ought to know; and who has
seen and recorded the fact that Walt Whit-
man is entirely disregarded, and almost con-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
103
temned by our people of the plainer and
humbler sort, who find in him no expression
of their feelings or their thoughts; and that
he is considered (for I cannot say that he is
read) only by the curious, the critical, the
theorists, and the dilettanti, - the fastid-
ious aristocracy and literary bric-a-brac
hunters of the intellectual world. As to
his poetry, except on some rare occasions
when he lapses into common-sense and hu-
man feeling, it is simply naught. Erelong
some of you in England will be ashamed of
the attention you have given to its affecta-
tions. The little real merit that it has,
you would have passed over without notice.
It is written in a jargon unknown to us.
The very title of the book is in a language
that I never heard spoken."
“What can you mean?
""
"I was brought up in New England
and New York, and never there, nor yet in
Old England, nor in any of the literature
common to both countries, did I hear of
'leaves of grass.' Grass has not what in
English we call leaves. We have blades
of grass, even spears; but who ever heard
of leaves? A trifle this; but coming on the
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title-page, it proves to be a sign of what's
within."
66
My very paytriotic friend," said Mr.
Adams sarcastically, "thet's a sort of 'bjec-
shin thet ud do fur th' 'Sahturday Reveoo;'
but 't won't go daown 'th any true 'Muh'-
kin. Ef 'Muh'ky wants leaves o' grass, 'n-
stid o' blades, she 'll hev 'em. I kin put
all that daown jess by readin' a piece thet
I've got into my pocket,
one that Walt
Whitman's never published yet; but I
kerry it raound to read sorter b'tween
whiles."
The reading was loudly called for, and
Mr. Adams, producing a sheet or two of
paper from his all-containing pocket, read
as follows:
1 I happify myself.
I am some. You also are
I am considerable of a man. I am some.
some. We all are considerable; all are some.
Put all of you and all of me together, and agitate our par-
ticles by rubbing us up into eternal smash, and we should
still be some.
No more than some, but no less.
Particularly some, some particularly; some in general,
generally some; but always some, without mitigation.
Distinctly, some!
O ensemble! O quelque-chose!
2 Some punkins, perhaps;
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
105
But perhaps squash,1 long-necked squash, crooked-necked
squash, cucumber, beets, parsnips, carrots, turnips, white
turnips, yellow turnips, or any sort of sass; long sass, or
short sass.
Or potatoes. Men, Irish potatoes; women, sweet potatoes.
3 Yes, women!
I expatiate myself in female man.
A reciprocity treaty. Not like a jug's handle.
They look at me, and my eyes start out of my head; they
speak to me, and I yell with delight; they shake hands
with me, and things are mixed; I don't know exactly
whether I 'm them; or them's me.
Women watch for me; they do. Yes, sir!
They rush upon me; seven women laying hold of one man;
and the divine efflux that thrilled the cosmos before the
nuptials of the saurians overflows, surrounds, and inter-
penetrates their souls, and they cry, Where is Walt, our
brother? Why does he tarry, leaving us forlorn
O, mes sœurs!
As Mr. Adams read this in a voice heav-
ily monotonous and slightly nasal, the whole
company listened with animation in their
faces. Lord Toppingham looked puzzled.
Lady Toppingham smiled, a little cynically,
I thought. The M. P. sat with open, won-
dering eyes. Professor Schlamm, at the con-
clusion of the first stanza, folded his hands
upon the table, putting his two thumbs to-
gether, and leaning forward looked through
1 Some British readers may not know that squash is an
American vegetable like a very small pumpkin, tasting like
vegetable marrow.
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his spectacles at the reader with solemnity.
Lady Verifier exclaimed, “A truly cyclical
utterance; worthy to be echoed through
the eternal æons!" Mrs. Longmore, at the
end of the third stanza, murmured, "Di-
vine! divine! America is the new Para-
dise." Captain Surcingle turned to me,
and asked, "What language is it written in,
-'Mewican?"
Then Mr. Adams continued:
57 Of Beauty.
Of excellence, of purity, of honesty, of truth.
Of the beauty of flat-nosed, pock-marked, pied Congo
niggers.
Of the purity of compost-heaps, the perfume of bone-boil-
ing; of the fragrance of pig-sties, and the ineffable
sweetness of general corruption.
Of the honesty and general incorruptibility of political
bosses, of aldermen, of common-council men, of post-
masters and government contractors, of members of the
House of Representatives, and of government officers
generally, of executors of wills, of trustees of estates,
of referees, and of cashiers of banks who are Sunday-
School superintendents.
Of the truth of theatrical advertisements, and advertise-
ments generally, of an actor's speech on his benefit
night, of your salutation when you say, "I am happy
to see you, sir," of Mrs. Lydia Pinkham's public confi-
dences, of the miracles worked by St. Jacob's Oil, and
the long-recorded virtues of Scheidam schnapps.
58 I glorify schnapps; I celebrate gin.
In beer I revel and welter. I shall liquor.
Ein lager!
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
107
I swear there is no nectar like lager. I swim in it; I float
upon it; it heaves me up to heaven; it bears me beyond
the stars; I tread upon the ether; I spread myself
abroad; I stand self-poised in illimitable space. I look
down; I see you; I am no better than you. You also
shall mount with me.
Zwei lager!
Encore.
1003 O, my soul!
O, your soul! which is no better than my soul, and no
worse, but just the same.
O soul in general! Loafe! Proceed through space with
rent garments.
O shirt out-issuing, pendent! O tattered, fluttering flag
of freedom! Not national freedom, nor any of that sort
of infernal nonsense; but freedom individual, free-
dom to do just what you d- [here Mr. Adams
gulped the word] please!
1004 By golly, there is nothing in this world so unutterably
magnificent as the inexplicable comprehensibility of
inexplicableness!
1005 Of mud.
1006 O eternal circles, O squares, O triangles, O hypotenuses,
O centres, circumferences, diameters, radiuses, arcs,
sines, co-sines, tangents, parallelograms and parallel-
opipedons! O pipes that are not parallel, furnace
pipes, sewer pipes, meerschaum pipes, brier-wood
pipes, clay pipes! O matches, O fire, and coal-scuttle,
and shovel, and tongs, and fender, and ashes, and
dust, and dirt! O everything! O nothing!
O myself! O yourself!
O my eye!
At this point of the reading the enthusi-
t
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astic admiration of some of the audience
again broke silence. "That noble passage,"
cried Lady Verifier, "beginning with the
eternal circles, and ending with everything
and nothing! So vast! so all-inspiring!"
"So all-embracing!" sighed Mrs. Long-
more.
"Zo univarezall," said the Professor, "zo
voondamentahl, zo brovound! Go on, my
vrent, oond de zing-zong shant, und de evan-
gel bredigate, of the noo vorlt; oond I zoon
a vilozophy of dthe Amerigan zoul zhall
write."
Mr. Adams resumed:
1247 These things are not in Webster's Dictionary, Una-
bridged Pictorial;
Nor yet in Worcester's. Wait and get the best.
These have come up out of the ages:
Out of the ground that you crush with your boot-heel:
Out of the muck that you have shoveled away into the
compost:
Out of the offal that the slow, lumbering cart, blood-
dabbled and grease-dropping, bears away from the
slaughter-house, a white-armed boy sitting on top of
it, shouting Hi! and licking the horse on the raw,
with the bridle.
That muck has been many philosophers; that offal was
once gods and sages.
And I verify that I don't see why a man in gold specta-
tacles and a white cravat, stuck up in a library, stuck
up in a pulpit, stuck up in a professor's chair, stuck
up in a governor's chair, or in a president's chair,
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
109
should be of any more account than a possum or a
woodchuck.
Libertad, and the divine average!
1249 I tell you the truth. Salut!
I am not to be bluffed off. No, sir!
I am large, hairy, earthy, smell of the soil, am big in
the shoulders, narrow in the flank, strong in the knees,
and of an inquiring and communicative disposition.
Also instructive in my propensities; given to contem-
plation; and able to lift anything that is not too
heavy.
Listen to me, and I will do you good.
Loafe with me, and I will do you better.
And if any man gets ahead of me, he will find me after
him.
Vale! 1
There was a hum of admiration around
Mr. Adams as he restored the manuscript
to his pocket; but Captain Surcingle turned
to me, and asked, "'Mewican poetwy?”
"Yes, Jack," said his cousin, answering
for me; "and some of our wise people say
that it's the only poetry that can be called
American; but if it is, I am content with
my English Longfellow."
"And I, madam, with my still more Eng-
glish Whittier."
This Mr. Adams evidently thought would
1 Readers of The New York Albion in 1860 may have mem-
ories awakened by these lines, but I am able to insure Mr.
Adams against a suit for copyright, or a charge of plagiarism.
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be a good opportunity to bring his visit
to an end, and rising in his place, with a
manner as if addressing the chair, he said,
66
My lord, I shall now bid your lordship far-
well; an' in doin' so I thank you for your
elegint en' bountiful hospitality. It wuz
fuss-class, en' thar wuz plenty of it; en' I
shall remember it 'z long 'z I live. En' I
thank your good lady, too, en' feel specially
obleeged to her ladyship fur that thar pie
'i' the chicken-fixins into it. It wuz fuss-
class, and no mistake. En' now I hope
you'll all jine me in drinkin' her ladyship's
health; en' long may she wave. I can't call
for the hips and the tiger, seein' there's so
many ladies present; but let's all liquor
up, and knock down, and no heel-taps.'
"Weal 'Mewican," said the captain, with
an air of satisfaction. "Know it now.
Wasn't quite sure befoah; but when he
said liquor up' knew he was weal."
The company had risen, and had drunk
Mr. Adams's toast, and now broke up. He
took, I thought, a rather hurried leave.
The four-wheeled cab in which he came had
remained, and was at the door, to which
some of us accompanied him. When he was
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
111
seated he looked out and said, "If your
lordship ever comes to New York, jess look
inter my office. Happy to see you. Name's
into the D'rect'ry. So long!"
As the cab turned down the drive, we
saw Mr. Adams's boot thrust itself lazily
out of one of the windows, and rest there at
its ease.
"First time 'ever saw
ever saw' weal 'Mewican
off the stage," said the captain, slipping his
arm into mine as we entered the hall again.
"Vewy intwestin'. Think I should n't like
it as a weg'la' thing, you know."
Since my return to New York, I have in-
quired in vain for Mr. Washington Adams.
Many persons seem to recognize my descrip-
tion of him as that of a man they have
seen; but no one knows him by name, nor
is there any member of the New York leg-
islature so named. I have not yet been
able to ask Humphreys to resolve my per-
plexity.
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IV.
A LETTER FROM MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
DANGER SIGNALS.
TOPPINGTON PRIORY, MARLSHIRE,
21st October, 18—.
MY DEAR MR. GRANT WHITE, — Every-
body has gone to church this morning, as
usual; but as I have been there frequently
I made an excuse and remained at home:
not, however, chiefly for the reason which I
have assigned, but that I might write you
this letter.
Others may pardon you for giving in
"The Atlantic " an account of that luncheon
party at the Priory: whether I can do so,
I have not yet quite determined. The thing
has been read here and commented upon
quite freely. All this would be well enough ;
but it seems that you so awkwardly worded
your story that some people have suspected,
and indeed do actually believe, that there
is no Mr. Washington Adams, and that I-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
113
I, Mansfield Humphreys, am the "real
American" who was the object of interest
on that occasion. Grievous are the wounds
received at the hands of a friend; and your
careless pen has scratched me deeply. What
will my clients and my fellow directors
think of my figuring in such a masquerade?
And to what grave misconstruction on the
part of our friends at the Priory did you
expose me by your thoughtless ambiguity
of phrase! Pardon me for suggesting that
it would be well for you to serve a brief
apprenticeship in a lawyer's office, that you
may learn to express yourself with clearness.
and precision.
Well, that will do, I suppose, for an in、
dignant protest; but as to the truth of the
affair, there is of course no need for any
words between you and me. I had half a
dozen hearty laughs at the expense of Pro-
fessor Schlamm and the rest, with some
compunctions, I will confess, for bringing
such a bear as Mr. Washington Adams into
the garden of our charming hostess; of
whose fine womanly personality you must
remember that I, like you, was before en-
tirely ignorant. For the rest I cared little,
8
114
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except perhaps for Lord Toppingham him-
self, who, notwithstanding a slight stiffness
of the mental joints (with all his liberal-
ism), is one of the cleverest as well as one
of the sweetest-natured of men. But she,
the countess, was so serenely gentle, so di-
vinely complaisant, with all her lovely dig-
nity of mien, that I was more than once
almost disconcerted, and came near break-
ing down. I was kept up by the conscious-
ness of the eyes of the motley crowd around
me. If she and Lord Toppingham only
had been present, I verily believe that I
should have fallen at her feet,1 confessed
my imposture, and begged her pardon.
Would she have given it? You shall see.
But it is one thing to play a practical joke
and enjoy it, and quite another to have one's
escapade paraded to the world. The Brit-
ish lion is apt to growl and lash his sides,
and sometimes those of other people, when
he discovers that men have been laughing
at him behind sober faces.
A few days after you had left this neigh-
borhood, I determined to call at the Priory.
I rode over; and on sending up my card,
metaphorically, you know."
1 On the margin : 66
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
115
I was soon ushered into Lady Toppingham's
morning parlor, a very different sort of
place from the corresponding room at Bore-
ham Hall, as you described it. Although
it was about as large as an ordinary Boston
or New York drawing-room, it produced a
sense of mingled daintiness and coziness:
why or how, I can hardly tell, for there
was nothing unusual in it, nothing that
you would not find in a similar room in
New England or New York; but, as in
many such rooms there, gentlewoman and
elegant comfort were written all over it in
alternating interwoven characters. Lady
Toppingham rose and gave me her hand,
which, please remember, if you should ever
venture to write again about the manners
and customs of the inhabitants of this isl-
and, is, contrary to the common notion, the
custom here, unless the caller does not ap-
pear as a social acquaintance, and the inter-
view is more or less of a business character.
I must confess that I enjoy this distinction,
and wish that, with some other habits of
life in England, it could be carried into "the
States."
A nursery-maid was standing half behind
1
116
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my hostess's chair, and on the floor, playing
about her feet, was a boy-baby, about a
year and a half old, so radiant with all
glory possible to infancy that I can only
call him splendid. To anticipate a little,
in a few minutes he was on my knee, alter-
nately cooing and crowing and kicking and
pulling my whiskers; until, after a few fond
maternal remonstrances, he was sent back
to the nursery. I found him as firm and as
springy as a just-landed trout.
"Lord Toppingham is out this morning,
shooting, with my cousin, Captain Surcin-
gle," said my hostess, as I took my seat.
"I am sorry it should have happened so:
he does n't go out quite so often as most
men do here. He will regret it himself.
We hoped to have the pleasure of seeing
you ere this at the Priory. You have not
called before, I believe?" with a slight,
searching look that flashed into my eye like
a reflection from a mischievous boy's bit of
looking-glass.
"No, madam; unless, indeed, I may be
considered to have called after a fashion,
when I took the liberty of giving my card
to Mr. Washington Adams."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
117
"Mr. Adams is a friend of yours?"
“I can hardly call him a friend. Indeed,
I am inclined to think that I have many
better friends than he is. Hardly more
than a slight acquaintance, I should say;
for I am sure that many persons know
much more of me than he does, and much
more of him than I do."
"Then I may venture to say, without at
all implying that his call was uninteresting,
that he is a very extraordinary person.
Have you many men of his sort in the
States?"
"Too many of his sort, I must confess ;
although I never met another quite so pro-
nounced in style as he is. I fear you may
have found him somewhat rude."
"Not in the least, if rudeness consists
in offensive intention. He was very well
meaning, and very self-possessed. But he
appeared to be quite ignorant of what we
should call the ways of society. Did you
ever happen to see Mr. Adams in society,
Mr. Humphreys?"
"Indeed, I can't say that I ever did; and
you must therefore pardon me if you were
a little shocked." This I said in a careless,
118
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smiling way; but I felt that the feminine
toils were closing round me. For that,
however, I was prepared in a measure, or I
should not have ventured into the lioness's
den. For Lady Toppingham alone, I be-
lieve, of all the company, was quite sure
that something was wrong.
You may wonder that such an extravagant
creature as my Mr. Washington Adams, one
who could not be found with a lantern in
Boston or Philadelphia, and hardly in Chi-
cago, should pass muster among people of
ordinary information in any part of Europe,
as a representative American, on five min-
utes' inspection. But if you do so wonder,
you merely show that you have failed to ap-
prehend the vagueness of their notions about
us, their credulity, and their fidgety curios-
ity to find something in "America and the
Americans" which is new, peculiar, and
above all unpleasant. You are such a lover
of England and English folk, and you were
treated with such kindness here by every
human creature that you met, even casually
as a stranger, that this assertion as to their
ignorance of our country and ourselves, and
as to their feeling toward them, may be re-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
119
ceived by you with some incredulity.¹ And
if you were to judge them only by certain
narrow but prominent classes, you would
have some reason for your doubts. The
superior part of the men in political life,
the publicists, the traveled and intelligent
among the mercantile and manufacturing
class, and above all the journalists, have
passed out of this dense stage of ignorance;
but only to enter into a confusing twilight,
the result of a struggle between limited
knowledge and unlimited prejudice. They
see; but they are color-blind to the few
and faintly characteristic traits of the men
and women who are the real products and
the real representatives of generations of
American training. They start with the
postulate that what is English cannot be
American: although why it cannot, none of
these uneasy mortals have yet been able to
show; possibly from an inability to define
clearly what is American. From their false
1 Not at all. My good friend Humphreys forgets certain
passages of "England Without and Within," in which that
admiration which he and others have found so glowing is
tempered by the expression of opinions much like his own,
and, moreover, by the record of evidence of just such igno-
rance as he himself has found.
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starting - point they of course proceed to
false conclusions. No one will dispute that
there are some certain differences in the
general aspect of the two peoples (in so far
as either of them can be said to have a gen-
eral aspect), in their manners, their habits,
and their speech; but these varying shades
are merely on the surface, and are caused
by varying circumstances; most of them
transitory as well as superficial; none of
them tending to any change of nature.
What will be the result of the great emigra-
tion from Ireland and from Germany, which
has taken place mostly within your and my
remembrance, and the settlement of the Far
West, also the work of the last twenty-five
or thirty years, remains to be seen; and I
leave it out of the question, as I did in my
railway talk with Lord Toppingham. But
here I am, lecturing you again, just as I
lectured him. I doubt that you will be half
so courteously tolerant of me and my fad as
he was.
To return to my lady and her gentle cate-
chising, I saw at once that in apologizing for
Mr. Washington Adams's possible failures
in conduct, I had opened a seam in my ar-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
121
mor.
She saw it, too, and instantly seized
her advantage.
66
Why, Mr. Humphreys, if you .never saw
Mr. Adams in society, what reason have
you for supposing that he did n't know how
to behave himself? Are we to assume
that there is danger of that with all Ameri-
cans, except," with a slight, gracious bend
of her head, "Mr. Mansfield Humphreys?"
This without even a curve of her lip or a
twinkle of her eyelid.
"Indeed, notwithstanding your keen-
edged compliment, I am willing to own
that there are a great many of my coun-
trymen who would be very much out of
place in the drawing-room or at the dinner-
table of Toppington Priory. Are there not
as many of your own fish who would be just
as much out of water here? Would you.
like to cast out a drag-net into the streets
of London, or the waste places of England,
and haul into the Priory whatever you
might catch?'
66
No, certainly not; but that's not likely
to happen, you know," smiling, but sitting
a little straighter. Then, with a slight in-
crease of impressiveness in manner, “But
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THE FATE OF
you seem to have a strange mixture of
knowledge and of ignorance about this- this
American gentleman whom you intro-
duced to Lord Toppingham. You fear, and
you doubt, and you talk about drag-nets,
and'
""
"Pardon me, madam," I broke in; "but
loosely as we all use that word 'gentleman
nowadays, I cannot but protest when I hear
a gentlewoman speak of a creature like Mr.
Washington Adams as an American gentle-
man.'
"You admit then, sir, that you intro-
duced to Lord Toppingham and to his wife
a person who is not a gentleman, even in
America!" As my fair hostess said this,
she bent upon me a look full of confident
intelligence and, as I thought, of gentle tri-
umph; but that may have been merely be-
cause I felt that I was beaten. I remember
my grateful consciousness that there was
no severe displeasure in her clear blue eyes.
But my time had come.
66
Lady Toppingham," I said, rising, “I
can withstand you no longer. I am here to
make a confession and an apology. Unless
a bit of acting with a better purpose than a
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
123
mere joke degrades me from the position
with which you have just honored me, I
introduced to your society no one who was
unworthy of it. I was Mr. Washington
Adams."
you
My hostess rose quickly, with a flush
upon 'her face, saying, "And you came, sir,
a stranger, into this house under a feigned
name, to hoax Lord Toppingham and -his
wife, and their guests! Looking at you as
stand there, it is hard to believe it."
"Unhappily, madam, it is true: unhap-
pily, if it brings upon me your displeasure.
Yet I came not exactly as a stranger. You
probably know that I had had the pleasure
of a morning's talk with Lord Toppingham,
the agreeable result of which to me was the
honor of an invitation to the Priory on my
own poor merits, and when he did not know
that I bore a letter of introduction to him
from Dr. Tooptoe. As to my little mas-
querade, for that I must throw myself upon
your mercy. I regarded it as hardly more
than a continuation, with a living illustra-
tion, of that colloquy on the rails. I was´
tempted to show Lord Toppingham and his
friends a specimen of the only sort of Amer-
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ican which they, or at least most of their
countrymen, recognize as genuine; the only
one in which they seem to take any real
interest. If in doing so I have violated
the rights of hospitality, or if I have of-
fended Lady Toppingham, I can only bear
the burden and the blame of my offense, ask
pardon, and bid you good-morning."
I bowed, and stepped backward; but I
saw in her eye that she did not mean to let
me go.
There was awakened in her wo-
man's nature the hunter's greed; a feeling
corresponding to that with which a man
follows up the wild beast which he has
roused, or that with which an angler lusts
after the trout that is making his reel sing
and his rod bend double. While I was
wondering what would be her next word,
her attitude towards me and the expression
of her eye suddenly changed, and she broke
into a gentle but merry and hearty fit of
laughter. She fell into her chair again,
and laughed, still looking at me, until, as I
stood before her, I felt myself blushing to
my very forehead.
After a moment she said, "Pray be
seated, Mr. Humphreys. Please don't stand
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
125
there with that penitent air, or I shall be
tempted to laugh at you, instead of laugh-
ing with you, as I am doing now, I assure
you. It was a tremendous farce; as good
as a play. How you must have enjoyed the
general mystification! It was indeed rather
a bold thing to do, if you'll permit me to
say so; but where there is no wrong and no
offense, success is an excuse. Then, as if
our interview had thus far been of the most
ordinary nature, "Would you mind touch-
ing the bell for me?
""
I did so, and a man-servant quickly en-
tered. "Tell Jackson to bring Lady Char-
lotte here;" and going to a vase of flowers
she busied herself with them a moment, till
a nursery-maid appeared with a little girl,
about a year and a half older than the boy
whom I had found with her on my entrance.
She took the child upon her lap, and the
maid retired to a window on the other side
of the room. I wonder if there is an in-
stinct in a young mother that teaches her
that the presence of her child in her arms
not only enhances all her womanly attrac-
tions, but adds to her dignity, and makes
every true man her humble servant.
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THE FATE OF
The child looked at me with infantine
approval, and the mother said, "This has
been rather a strange interview for a first
morning call; but," smiling, "I forget,
it is a second. I must tell you, then, that
we don't feel toward you quite as if you
were a stranger; for not only did dear old
Dr. Tooptoe write most kindly of you in a
private letter to my lord, but your friend,
whom we saw a good deal of before he left
our country, spoke of you so often and in
such a way that we felt as if we knew you,
and looked for your coming with pleasure."
"Did he hint"
"Not a word.”
He
"Did Lord Toppingham suspect?"
"No; I'm inclined to think not.
was mystified, of course, and suspected
something; but not, I believe, that you
were Mr. Washington Adams. You may
think it odd, but I did not tell him what I
myself suspected in a vague sort of way;
for you'll remember I had never seen you
and knew nothing of you. I rather enjoyed
Lord Toppingham's bewilderment; and I
felt sure that you would be here soon, and
that it would all be cleared up, one way or
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
127
another. But indeed, Mr. Humphreys, you
tried me rather sorely that morning; did
you not? Are you in the habit of such per-
formances, — a professed practical joker?"
"Never before, I assure you, did I do
such a thing. That was my first appear-
ance in such a character; and it shall be
my last. I feel like saying,, with the school-
boy brought up for discipline, ‘I did n't do
it; and I'll never do it again.'
999
"But how came you to present us, as
an American, such a monstrous creature,
such a libel, I am sure, upon your country-
men?"
"A little too sure, perhaps; for Mr.
Washington Adams was no monster, no
libel, but, as you saw him, a portrait, a real
man; a little highly charged, to be sure,
but no more so than Mr. Du Maurier's fig-
ures in his social sketches."
"And the Americans are like Mr. Wash-
ington Adams?"
"I did not say so.
Your phrase is gen-
eral, universal. Some are."
"Men who go about whittling?"
66
Verily, my lady, there be Americans
that whittle.'
""
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THE FATE OF
"And carry bowie-knives and pistols in
that dreadful way?"
“There are many men in America who
carry bowie-knives and pistols, and handle
them as freely as others, both here and
there, handle canes and riding-whips. But
if you went to America you would have to
look far to find them. In all my life I have
never seen one."
"And who," drawing down the corners
of her mouth, "spit tobacco as you
"Pardon me, madam, I did no such thing,
as you might have known before if you had
asked your servants."
66
Well, then, as you pretended to?"
"I am sorry to be obliged to confess that
my portrait would have been very imperfect
if that feature of it had been omitted. You
would find that much more easily than the
whittling and the pistol-carrying, although
not in any private house where you would
be likely to be a visitor. But in railway
cars, and in hotels, except in your own
rooms and those of your friends, you would
have difficulty in escaping the nuisance. In-
deed, one of the peculiarities of American
public atmosphere in winter is a singular
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
129
*
and unmistakable odor, produced by such
narcotic expectorations upon the heated sur-
face of a stove. Pray, excuse me; although
I can hardly excuse myself for speaking so
plainly of something the very memory of
which is nauseous."
"And then Mr. Washington Adams was,
or represented, a real man, a real Amer-
ican, after all; and we are not so much out
of the way as you would have us believe."
"Let me explain. I was tempted into the
escapade which you have so kindly passed
over by the frequent, the almost incessant,
presentation by British writers of all sorts
-dramatists, novelists, journalists, travel-
ers -- of a creature whom they offer to you,
and generally in so many words, as the
American; and who is accepted by you
most of you
6
as the American.' A man
who behaves himself decently, and who is a
fair representative of the well bred and well
educated - I will not say the cultivated-
American, you pass by without remark;
and if you wish to characterize American
society, you choose for the purpose a man
who speaks and acts like Mr. Washington
Adams. You look upon us, in the first
9
130
THE FATE OF
place, as one homogeneous lot or lump of
nondescript human creatures; and of that
congregation you make Mr. Washington
Adams the representative. I'm not speak-
ing now of the few better informed and
more kindly intentioned among you, but of
the majority who are full of ignorance and
of prejudice, and of those who serve their
interest and gratify their feelings by pan-
dering to the combined ignorance and prej-
udice of others. Your whole current liter-
ature, particularly your newspapers, to this
very day are full of such perversion and
misrepresentation. Any queer, coarse, gro-
tesque slang, which may have been heard
in some part of America, or picked out of
some American newspaper, and which is
never used by decent, educated men, is re-
peated, with the remark as the Americans
say.' All this, and the uneasy desire, so
commonly manifested by your travelers and
by your writers on social subjects, not to
see things simply as they are in America,
but to find something new and strange, if
not ridiculous, in speech or habits of life,
provoked me, after my talk with Lord Top-
pingham, to play my prank, and make a
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
131
little fun of you before your own eyes. In
playing it, I presented, of course, a highly
charged portrait, not of any American that
you would be likely to meet, but of such a
one as most of your countrymen seem to be
desirous of meeting; although, as Captain
Surcingle said to my good friend, not as a
weg'la' thing.'
66
Poor, dear old Jack," said Lady Top-
pingham: "he can be an awful goose; but
there is something in him, after all. No
man could ride to hounds as he does and
not be a good fellow."
66
Indeed, I'm sure you're right as well
as kind about the captain, although I'm
not enough of a Nimrod to see the connec-
tion between goodness and riding to hounds.
But as to your strange visitor Washington
Adams, again; my sword, as I have already
confessed to you, was double edged, and
cut both ways. There was not a trait of
manners or of speech in my figure, I am
sure, which was not a truthful representa-
tion, slightly high-lighted and dark-shad-
owed, of what might be seen and heard in
some part of America, among certain peo-
ple. The sense of monstrosity which you
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had was due less to any exaggeration than
to the presentation of all these traits in one
man, and in the course of an hour or so; as
a dramatist will crowd the important events
of years or of a life into five acts, which
can be presented in one evening. You had
your not uncommon British notion of ‘the
Americans' concentrated into human pem-
mican. No wonder that you found it rather
highly seasoned. And let me ask you, If I
were to offer to the world as a representa-
tion of the manners and customs of the
English, what I might see at the Topping-
ham Arms in the village on Saturday night,
would not Lord Toppingham, and Sir
Charles Boreham, and Dr. Tooptoe, and
Mr. Grimstone, be likely to scout it, and
perhaps even to resent it a little?"
"That would be absurd. I'm sure you
would n't do that. It would n't be at all
fair; very unjust and incorrect indeed.”
While this talk was going on, the little
Lady Charlotte had slid down from her
mother's lap, and had toddled over to me
and begun to play with the seal and key
upon my watch-ribbon. Soon I took her,
too, upon my knee, to her apparent satisfac-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
133
tion, and with the evident approbation of
the mother. As she sat there, a voice was
heard, which even I recognized, and my
hostess said, "There's Lord Toppingham;"
and, after a moment's hesitation, "Shall I
tell him?"
No, please don't. Let me do that my-
self."
“As you wish, of course; but why?"
66
My offense, if it were one, was personal
to Lord Toppingham; and with all thanks
to you, madam, and feeling fully what must
be the strength of your advocacy, I don't
quite like to seek shelter behind a woman's
fan." I had almost used another word
although I had not begun it, and a little
blush and a sparkle of the eye showed me
that the lady had read my thought.
A few moments passed: then enter Lord
Toppingham in his shooting gear. As he
opened the door he saw the pretty burden
of my knee, and exclaimed, "Why, Chartie,
darlin', where have you got?" before he
was well in the room. He came quickly to
me, and giving me a cordial grasp of the
hand said, "I'm sure we're glad to see you
at last. Heard you were here, and only
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stopped to wash the powder off my hands.
You've got on famously, I see, with one
very important member of this household,"
glancing at his little daughter, who was now
with her mother; "and that, I see," looking
into his wife's bright, sweet face, "has done
you no harm in another quarter." And then
he, too, gave me to understand how you had
prepared for me such a frank and warm
reception.
We passed pleasantly enough through the
unavoidable few minutes of commonplace
talk which open a first interview, during
which he mentioned that his companion had
gone home with a bit of percussion cap in
his cheek. "His first wound," he added;
"his baptism of fire, as that sham Louis
Napoleon said about his poor little Prince
Imperial."
"For shame, Toppingham! Is poor Jack
hurt?"
“Not half so much as he might be by his
own razor, or a woman's hairpin. It'll just
give him an opportunity for a becomin'
mouche.” Then to me, " He was very much
taken by your friend, Mr. Washington
Adams, was n't he, Kate? You must have
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
135
observed it. Most extraord'nary person,
that! Do tell us somethin' about him.
Never saw such a queer-actin' person in my
life!
""
"Come, come," said Lady Toppingham,
"don't trouble Mr. Humphreys about that
now. He has explained and apologized for
all Mr. Adams's peculiarities; and we've
had quite enough of that sort of American,"
with an emphasis and a glance that gave
me a little consolation.
"You'll stop to dinner with us, of course:
pray do ;" and my hostess heartily con-
firmed the invitation.
I excused myself; said that I had brought
a horse with me, and glanced at my costume.
"Never mind that. Your horse will stop,
too; he'll be well looked after in the sta-
bles. And as to your mornin' coat, never
mind that, either. I can send you every-
thing else that you'll require. Do stop.
We're quite alone for a day or two; some-
thin' not very common at this season of the
year. You'll save Lady Toppin'ham and
me from playin' Darby and Joan."
Just then a servant entered, and said,
"Miss Duffield is here, my lady. She's
136
THE FATE OF
4
stopping a moment to talk with Mrs. Tim-
mins," who, I discovered, was the house-
keeper.
"Oh, I'm glad she 's come," said Lady
Toppingham. "Now I'm sure you'll
stay," with the slightest possible side turn
of the head. "Gentlemen always do stay
where Margaret Duffield is. Although I
don't know but you 're so spoiled with your
wonderful American beauties we hear so
much about, that you may prove unimpres-
sible. Lord Toppingham's her guardian.
She's quite at home here,comes and
goes just as she pleases; may not show her-
self for a while yet."
She did, however, show herself at that
moment, entering with a charming union of
modesty and self-possession; and after greet-
ing and kissing Lady Toppingham, she gave
her hand and offered her cheek to her guar-
dian.
As there were only four of us, I was in-
troduced by the mere mention of my name.
This and her greetings brought light to
her eyes and an enchanting accession of
color to her cheek. She fully justified Lady
Toppingham's implied eulogy. I have
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
137
rarely seen so beautiful a girl; never one
so lovely.
You will imagine a fair, rosy, blue-eyed,
golden-haired young woman, round and ra-
diant, with all the soft white splendor of
what is called Anglo-Saxon beauty. But you
will be wrong. That beauty is found in
England; but it is far from being so common
as is generally supposed; not so common as
in New England, I have sometimes thought.
Not noticeably tall, Miss Duffield was yet a
little above the average height of women,
and the eye-alluring charms of her grand
yet maidenly figure were enhanced by what
I saw at a second glance was a gown a little
shorter-waisted than the fashion. That
sharp, hard line, which seems to be defined
by some mechanical force, and to divide
harshly the upper from the lower half of the
figure, was absent; and this added not a lit-
tle both to the dignity and the grace of her
bearing. Her broad, low brow was divinely
fair, and so was her rounded neck. Her
eyes would have been black but for a slight
olive tint that enriched and softened them;
and her hair, which was not banged or bru-
tified in any way, but parted and drawn
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THE FATE. OF
gently above her pink-tipped ears to a knot,
seemed black upon her full white temples,
but where the light shone on it, of a warmer
hue. Her nose was saved from being per-
fect Grecian by a slight upward curve from
the thin nostril, a type of that feature some-
what more common here than it is with us,
although, generally speaking, England is
not distinguished as a country of fine noses.
Of the winning beauty of her mouth I shall
not venture to attempt to give you an idea.
It was no little rosebud, but nobly lined,
and full and rich with promise; the teeth
and their setting seeming to have been fur-
nished by Hygeia. Briefly, imagine a tall,
dark-eyed, dark-haired Hebe, with an ex-
pression of intelligence and character which
are not Hebe's peculiar attributes, and you
will have an approximate idea of Miss Duf-
field. Her dress was perfect: dark olive-
green from throat to ankles, including her
very gloves, with a light gray broad-leafed
hat and feather. Some Englishwomen dress
so admirably that it is all the more unac-
countable that so many of them dress ill.
My little friend Chartie made for the
new-comer as soon as she entered the room,
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
139
calling her Aunt Peggy, climbing into her
willing lap, and lavishing upon her the
somewhat oppressive although gentle ca-
resses of a petted, loving child, and manag-
ing, during a few moments which were oc-
cupied with desultory talk, to push back
her hat, and so to disarrange her hair that,
although the general result seemed to me
more admirable than the most elaborate
coiffure I had ever observed, the young lady
withdrew, accompanied by my hostess, to
repair damages.
66
Lady Toppingham told me that Miss
Duffield is your ward."
"Yes; she is my wife's cousin, the only
surviving orphan daughter of her mother's
younger sister, who was married to a gentle-
man of moderate estate, which, on his early
death without a male heir, went to a distant
relative. She is a dear, good girl, although
somewhat wayward; as lovable as she is
beautiful. I could not love her more if she
were my sister or my daughter."
"I cannot doubt it."
"When I say wayward, I don't mean
that she 's inclined to be fast and slangish,
like so many of our girls, although she
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does n't lack spirit. Far from it. But she's
quietly set in her own ways: not very fond
of gayety, although she can be the merriest
and most companionable creature in the
world; likes to be a good deal by herself,
with her music and her books, and to take
long walks; knows all the old women and
the young mothers in the cottages about
here; and they all worship her."
66
Strange that such a girl as she is has
not been married ere this.'
"Yes, indeed; but she does n't appear at
all inclined to marriage. Poor Madge! she
has only a hundred and fifty pounds a year;
but she seems perfectly content. She might
have been Marchioness of Tipton, and out-
ranked her cousin. She might have had
Sir John Acrelipp, who has thirty thousand
a year, if she had only held up her finger;
but she would n't. Jack Surcingle is aw-
fully cut up about her, and although he is
only a second son he has a thousand a year
from his mother and his uncle, besides his
allowance and his pay; but she laughs and
talks with Jack, and is as kind as kind can
be; and yet I can see that on this subject
she keeps him at arm's-length."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
141
"A musician, you say?"
66
Yes, indeed; which I'm not, I'm glad
to own. Can't see the use of it. She does
n't sing much, only a few little airs and bal-
lads for me and the children; but she's what
Hans Breitmann would call a biano-blayer,
and quite awful in the way of Bach and
Beethoven, and opuses and things."
"Rather a remarkable girl, it seems to
me.
"Well you may say so; but, with all
her sweetness, somewhat troublesome to a
guardian. I don't know what we shall do
with her; such a mixture of attractiveness
and reserve, of poverty and content. She
makes us anxious, sometimes, for her fu-
ture."
"Lord Toppingham," I said here, rising
suddenly, "I've a confession to make to
you, and an apology.'
He rose also, and looked inquiringly into
my face. Then I repeated to him what I
had said to Lady Toppingham; telling him
how I had been tempted to it by our long
colloquy in the railway carriage, and add-
ing that I could not remain under his roof
and leave him ignorant of what I had done,
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THE FATE OF
nor if he felt that I had given him just
cause of offense.
He took a turn up and down the room,
and then stopping before me said, “Frankly,
it was carryin' a practical joke rather far,
upon a first acquaintance, as I'm glad to
see that you feel yourself; and if I had dis-
covered it without your confession, I own
that I might have been offended. But I
see just how it was: I think I can under-
stand your motive, and I certainly honor
your candor. And well, let us forget
everything but the fun of it," and with a
pleasant smile he held out his hand.
In a moment or two Lady Toppingham
returned, saying, as she entered, "Will Mr.
Humphreys stay to dinner?"
"Thanks; since you 're so kind as to ask
me, and you seem quite ready to excuse my
morning rig and take me as I am, I will."
“We shall be most happy. I thought
you'd stop. You're very good," with the
least perceptible spark of merriment in her
eye, and something in her manner that gave
me the notion that she would have been
glad to drop me a little mock curtsey; but
she did n't.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
143
Now came five o'clock tea, and with it
Miss Duffield. Needless to tell you how
we chatted through this delightful goûter :
delightful, thus taken with two or three, or
half a dozen, pleasant companions in the
lady's parlor or the "living" drawing-room
of a country house; but a bore, I confess
it, an unmitigated bore, when it is made.
the occasion of a small and early entertain-
ment in the city, where thirty or forty peo-
ple, or more, come and go in costly morn-
ing dresses, the women with their bonnets
on, to tinkle teacups and spoons, and gab-
ble the commonplaces of society.
Our talk gradually subsided into a silence
which we were not ready to break, while
the rays of the sun slanted through a
pretty oriel window, as the great light-giver
sank behind a heavy mass of clouds. In
the course of our conversation I had spoken
about music to the ladies in a way that re-
vealed, as I intended it should, my love for
the mysterious art, half sensuous, half emo-
tional, which, as you know, is one of the
chief pleasures of my life. "Come, Marga-
ret," said Lady Toppingham, suddenly
breaking the silence, "go to the piano, and
give Mr. Humphreys some music."
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She rose immediately, and saying only,
"With pleasure," went to the instrument.
Lord Toppingham took the opportunity to
leave the room, and looking in again in a
moment said," Kate, Mr. Humphreys will
excuse you for a little while: I want to say
a word to you."
Miss Duffield sat down before the piano
which I opened for her, and the deft fingers
of her left hand, not small, but lithe, well
rounded, white, and rosy-tipped, ran lightly
up little chromatic scales here and there
upon the key-board. Invariable this, with
all musicians: they fondle and coax their
instruments, whether piano-fortes, or vio-
lins, or what not, before they set earnestly
to work. As she did this little preliminary
trick, her other hand lying in her lap, she
turned to me and asked, "Are you of the
Humphreys of Dorset ?
"No; my people came from this county.
But that was a long while ago. Don't you
know that I'm an American, from Massa-
chusetts, what you, and we too, call a
Yankee? I've some cousins at home named
Duffield."
Her hand fell lightly down beside its
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
145
fellow, and for one precious appreciable in-
stant she bent upon my eyes a look which I
had seen in others of her countrywomen,
when I told the same to them; only it was
softer, less like a stare; there was a min-
gling of sorrow, almost of pleading, with its
gentle wonder.
Did you ever ask yourself if such women
truly feel, really are, what they undesign-
ingly express; whether there is in fact any
necessary connection between their outer
and their inner selves? I have sometimes
doubted it. And if there is such a relation
between soul and body in them, what be-
comes of the poor women who have not eyes
and lips like Miss Duffield's? I remember
coming suddenly upon a good homely girl
who I thought was in distress, and about to
weep. Alas, poor young woman! if I had
entered only a few minutes before, I should
have known that she was more than usually
happy, and that that distortion of her face
was her way of smiling. As the thought
that brings up this memory flashed across
my mind, Miss Duffield sat quickly up, and
took half a dozen double handfuls of roar-
ing chords out of the instrument, which
10
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THE FATE OF
trembled under her aggressive touch. Af-
ter a moment's silence she played one of
Schubert's airs; and Schubert himself
would have thanked her as heartily as I
did. I asked for more; and without a word
she played reminiscences, of her own ar-
ranging, I suspect, of the garden music in
Gounod's "Faust." The happy wires sang
love under her persuasive fingers. For this
I did not thank her, and we sat a few mo-
ments without speaking. Then reaching
from the music - rack a book which had
caught my eye, I opened it, and put it be-
fore her, saying, "What you have done is
charming, indeed; but I know that you
must like something better. Please, will
you not play me one of these?"
"That! That 's
surprise in her face.
"Why not?"
Bach," she said, with
"Do you like Bach ?"
"Why, you're an American, you say,
and I should n't think of playing Bach to
an American. I know you have Italian op-
era over there, with Patti and Nilsson and
all the rest. But Bach! It's only of late
years even here that people generally be-
gun to like Bach; except the real musicians,
you know."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
147
"But I learned to like Bach in America
when I was a little boy, before Patti and
Nilsson were heard of. Just as few people
in America as in England really like and
understand Bach; but in my boyhood I was
one of a sort of club that met every week
to enjoy Bach and Beethoven, and there
are many other such in America. I know of
one which began in the last generation, and
has met weekly for thirty-five years.
She said no more, but played one of those
sonatas in which the great master of the
antique school makes a fugue sing the pas-
sion of a broken heart amid all the intrica-
cies of counterpoint. And then she played
another, and yet another, and another, un-
til the twilight began to fall upon us; and
rising hastily, she said, "Excuse me; I must
dress for dinner," and left me in the dark-
ling room.
As this parlor was not used at night, it
was not lighted, and I sat undisturbed, mus-
ing happily under the influence of the mu-
sic, for nearly half an hour, before a servant
entered with a candle, and a message: "My
lady sent me to show you your room, sir, if
you'd like to go to it now."
But going
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out I met Lord Toppingham himself, who
said, "I've been lookin' for you in the
drawin'-room. What made you sit here in
the dark?” Then he kindly accompanied
me to my room, with an air of welcome,
and hoping that I would ask for anything I
wanted (but all was amply provided) he
left me to the valeting of my solicitous at-
tendant, and I soon went down to him and
the ladies.
Of course, in such a little party of four, I
took my hostess in to dinner, which she had
wisely ordered to be served at a round table
standing at the edge of a huge bay-window
of the dining-room. Our dinner was chatty
and pleasant; but although Miss Duffield
was directly opposite to me, she said hardly
a word to me during dinner, addressing most
of her conversation to her guardian. Be-
fore we returned to the drawing-room the
evening clouds had gathered overhead, and
were pouring rain. "Of course you 'll not
go wandering off about the country in such
a night as this,” my hostess said.
“ You 'll
stop till to-morrow. What a blessing that
some one was sent to keep us from boring
each other to death! Really, Mr. Humph-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
149
reys, you 're quite a merciful dispensa-
tion."
I stayed over till next morning at the
Priory, and far into the next day, and de-
parted only from necessity, and with a
hearty and accepted invitation to return
directly for a visit of some days, on which
I was promised a meeting with some pleas-
ant people. There were some eight or a
dozen guests all the time, who shot and
dined, and dined and shot; and they were
pleasant enough; but what they were is
not to my present purpose. I enjoyed it
all, but most the society of my hostess and
her cousin. They charmed me more than
any other women I had ever met. Well-
bred, simple, unaffected, sensible, well-edu-
cated women I had seen before; but I re-
member few who to all these qualities added
a sweet feminine meekness of manner, com-
bined with a capacity to show spirit, and
even to be bold, upon occasion. This muli-
ebrity seems to me the crowning charm of
the sex in England. With it these ladies,
into whose close companionship I was grad-
ually drawn, fed fat the hunger of my soul.
Our common love for music, and the like-
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ness of our love, brought me very near to
Miss Duffield; this nearness being much
favored by her evident lack of sympathy
with most of the men around her, and by
her independence. We were thus often
alone, and never more alone than at times
when there were others near us. You know
my love for walking in the country, which
at home I have generally to enjoy in soli-
tude. She rivaled me, and allowed me to
accompany her on some of her strolls, and
even on some of her charitable missions.
On one of these I discovered the reason of
the reserve that awakened her guardian's
anxiety. Our talk had gradually led up to
it, and she exclaimed,
"Oh, I'm weary of seeing men around
me doing nothing, thinking nothing, and
leading such petty, selfish lives! Of course
I know there are able men enough and busy
men enough in England; but I've been to
London only once since I was a child, and I
see nothing of that sort of man, but men
that shoot, and hunt, and play billiards, and
gamble, or vanish away to the Continent on
some shameful business, like those;"
and she mentioned two or three noble fam-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
151
ilies, whose names are well known in the
divorce court. "Either these, or else a dull
squire. My dear guardian is worth a regi-
ment of such men. There's Surcingle: he
does n't gamble, and he's good. But what
do you think he said," she added, laughing,
"one day when I told him he did nothing
but play billiards? That he did that he
hunted, and shot, and ate, and smoked, and
played cricket, and made-talked to me;
and although he is n't the wisest, he's about
the best of them. And yet I detest prigs
and pedants. I know I'm only a woman,
but I can't help thinking; and it seems to
me that the way in which our society is or-
ganized tends to make such men; for most
men are selfish and indolent, except about
their own pleasures."
I stayed ten days at the Priory, which
were the happiest of my life; and at last
took myself off, for very shame. But ere-
long I returned to my little inn at B
and again visited the Priory frequently, al-
though without sleeping there.
One morning I went over early, and was
walking through the park by a little dell,
or shaw, about three quarters of a mile from
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the house, when my attention was attracted
by what was plainly a plash of blood upon
the path; then drops large and frequent
stretched on before me, and they were
fresh. I followed them quickly, and after
a rod or two I came upon a sight that made
my heart stand still. Miss Duffield lay
across the path, with a little pool of blood
by her side. She was pale, but conscious.
A gleam of joy came from her eyes, as I
sprang forward to help her.
Briefly, this had happened: On one of
her walks she had seen, on a dwarf tree
at the edge of the shaw, a little cluster of
leaves, beautifully discolored by some ca-
price of nature; but the twig on which it
grew was so tough, and stretched so far over
the edge, that, although she could touch,
she could not break it. Therefore this
morning she had brought with her one of
those little clasp pruning-knives which are
used by amateur gardeners of her sex; and
leaning forward she was able to cut off the
twig, which she at once thrust into the but-
toned opening of the waist of her walking-
dress, and was about shutting the knife,
when the turf yielded on the edge where
1
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
153
she was standing, and she fell forward into
the shaw. The fall would have been of lit-
tle importance, although she was somewhat
bruised and strained; but the knife was
driven into her left wrist. As she drew it
out, it was followed by a spurt of blood.
In pain and terror she managed to scramble
up to the path, and started to run home;
but the wound bled freely, and after run-
ning a few yards she fell fainting to the
ground. As the loss of blood had not yet
been very great, the horizontal position,
acting upon one of her high health and
strength, brought her to her senses just be-
fore I appeared.
I saw at once, from the bright color of
the blood and its regular gush, that she had
cut an artery clean in two. Grasping her
arm firmly, I said, "You must let me help
you, or Will you trust yourself to me?"
"Oh, yes, yes!"
And now my experience as an amateur
assistant in our soldiers' hospitals, in my
youth, stood me in good stead. Cutting
her sleeve open to the shoulder with my
pocket-knife, I soon made an extempore
tourniquet with my handkerchief and a
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small pebble, using as a lever a stout twig
that I found hard by; and it was hardly
more than a minute from the time when I
found her before I had the brachial artery
compressed and the flow of blood stopped.
But what to do! I could not leave her;
and although I could carry her a little way,
but with danger of opening the artery
again, of what good was that? Not a liv-
ing creature was within sight, and we were
three quarters of a mile from the house.
Before this I had thought of the isolation.
of these great English houses; but now it
came upon me with horror, and with curs-
ings in my heart. She did not speak one
word, but looked at me in silence.
I saw a little knoll near by, which would
give me a farther view. I raised her as
gently as I could, and laid her by the side.
of the path, with my coat under her head.
I ran up the knoll, and looked about: in
vain. I called out with all my strength.
My voice sounded to me faint and hollow
and ghostly. I came down again to watch
my patient. She lay quiet, and, opening
her eyes, looked at me with calm confi-
dence. Then stretching out her unwounded
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
155
arm, she pressed my hand, but did not
speak. Again I went upon the knoll, and,
peering about, what joy to see in the dis-
tance a young rustic fellow crossing an open
in the park! I shouted and threw up my
hands, and managed to attract his attention,
and to turn his steps toward me. But with
what leaden feet he came ! Yet I did soon
bring him to quickening his pace, and when
he had come near I rushed upon him, say-
ing, "My lad, don't be frightened. Here's
a lady hurt. You understand me?"
"Ees."
"It's Miss Duffield, Lady Toppingham's
cousin. You know her?"
66
Ees, oi knaw 'n. She do be t'koindest
leddy yereabaout."
Well, she 'll die if she is not helped.
Get a wagon, a cart, anything on wheels,
just as quick as lightning.
stand?"
You under-
"Ees: I be to get cairt to cairt un up to
aouse."
I was about to offer him money; but
although slow of speech, he was ready in
action, and was off on a run.
My patient I found doing as well as I
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could hope for. We neither of us spoke.
There was no water near; I had nothing to
give her. She stretched out her right hand
to me again: I held it, and watched my
tourniquet in silence. Such a silence I had
never known before.
I heard the beating
of my heart, of hers. I heard the light
breeze sighing a sad monotone; the little
creakings of the tiny insects around us. It
seemed to me that I heard the grass grow.
I saw all trifling things: the dry twigs, the
odd shape of some of the leaves upon the
shrubs, the very grains of sand in the path.
I saw the beauty of her arm, and remember
tracing the course of a blue vein down its
gleaming inner side. I saw that the little
cluster of leaves which was the cause of all
this woe still remained in her corsage.
All at once the sound of quick hoofs and
of wheels, — not farm-cart wheels, but light
wheels, moving rapidly, thank God! - and
in a few moments they stopped where the
path went out of the copse upon the road,
and help appeared with the manly form and
troubled face of Captain Surcingle. He
had been driving through the park in a light
dog-cart, on some jockeyish business, when
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
157
he was seen and stopped by my messen-
ger.
Goose as his cousin called him, the captain
could not have behaved better. He was
silent, sympathetic, attentive, helpful, and
did without a word just what I bade him.
Keeping Miss Duffield's wounded arm across
her body, we carried her carefully to the
dog-cart, and lifted her into it. I told her
that I should have to place her upon the
bottom of the cart, and rest her head upon
my knee. She laid it there without a word.
I wrote a few lines on the blank leaf of an
old letter, stating the case, and gave it to my
rustic messenger, telling him to get it to the
village surgeon as soon as possible. The
captain mounted his seat and gathered up
the reins, when, turning his head, he saw
the position of my patient.
"Oh, I say, Mr. Humfweys, p'waps you
would n't mind dwivin'. I should n't mind
havin' you. You see, you und'stand hawses
in 'Mewica, mebbe, but you don't und’stand
sittin' in dog-cahts, you know."
"If you wish, and if Miss Duffield
wishes "
The weary eyes opened on me with a pit-
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eous look; and she said faintly, "Thanks,
dear Jack; but please don't have me moved
again." I don't know whether dear Jack
could have heard her, but I cried out,-
Never mind, captain; no time for that.
Drive on, please! Gently, now."
The good fellow distinguished himself as
a whip, and took us swiftly to the house,
and as softly as if we were driving over vel-
vet. Indeed, his knowledge of the park
enabled him to cut off turns and corners,
and to take almost a straight line over the
grass.
Needless to tell you the commotion at the
Priory. Miss Duffield was soon in bed;
and erelong the surgeon arrived on horse-
back. The artery must be taken up, of
course. He needed help, and asked for the
gentleman who applied that tourniquet.
The consequence was that I assisted at the
little operation, while Lady Toppingham
held the patient's other hand, and Mrs.
Timmins stood by to give any help that
might be necessary. She underwent the
operation in perfect silence. I did not look
at her while it was performed, and after the
bandage was applied I immediately left the
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
159
room. As I passed around the foot of the
bed she opened her eyes and smiled; I
bowed silently, and have not seen her since.
But from that time I have been at the Pri-
ory, Dr. Catlin having expressed a wish that
I should remain for two or three days.
This happened last Monday morning;
and every day the report has been that she
was doing as well as possible. Indeed, as it
turned out, the accident which might have
been mortal was really of no grave conse-
quence. Therefore, this morning, all the
household went to church, leaving her in the
care of nurse and housekeeper, while I shut
myself in my room to write to you.
After a while I was interrupted by a gen-
tle knock at my door. It was the maid
who, at the Priory, specially waits on her;
for she has no maid of her own.
"Please, sir," she said, "Miss Duffield's
compliments, and she's very much better
this morning. Nothing now only a little
weakness. She thought she would put her
arm in a sling, and come down; but the
doctor wouldn't pummit. An' please, sir,
would you find her a nice book. An' she
sends you this," holding out to me what I
Dor M
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recognized as the cluster of leaves which I
had seen in her corsage that morning. As
I looked at it closely, I saw that on one of
the leaves was a little drop of blood, which
I have not washed off.
This is all I have to tell you now. Should
there be anything more hereafter which
would interest you, I shall write.
Faithfully yours,
W. MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
Maou
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
161
V.
UNTOLD LOVE. A SOCIAL SURPRISE.
How it was that I became acquainted
with what I shall hereafter relate, it is not
worth the while to set forth particularly.
Suffice it to say that through letters from
all the persons whom I mention, from their
own lips, and by my personal observation,
I learned very thoroughly, and in the most
trustworthy manner, what befell my mask-
ing friend and traveling companion.
No word of fond suggestion had passed
between Mansfield Humphreys and Marga-
ret Duffield, — although before he found
her bleeding in the park he had loved her
with a sudden all-absorbing love; for he
had soon discovered in her the one woman
whose presence stirred in him "all impulses
of soul and sense." Yet he did not woo
her, except through that mightiest of plead-
ings from such a nature as his to such a
soul as hers, — the being his simple self,
11
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and living his daily life before her. He
did not shut his eyes to obstacles in his
way; but, as often happens in like cases,
he made most of that which was of least
importance, his age. Of this he had
never seriously thought before. Whether
he was twenty years old, or sixty, was a
question that never presented itself to him.
He did his work and enjoyed his life; and
he did both with thoughtless and almost un-
conscious vigor. But when he was brought
face to face with the momentous fact that
he-who, although he had fancied a few
women for various qualities and in various
ways, had never truly loved-now looked
upon this beautiful young woman with a
mingling of worship and longing unknown
to him before, he suddenly bethought him-
self that he was twenty years and more her
elder.
Although a self-reliant man and sufficient
unto himself, he was devoid of personal van-
ity, and had no confidence in his powers of
pleasing; rather, he never thought whether
he was pleasing or not, never sought to
make himself agreeable to any one he liked,
but did what he deemed was right, and
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
163
showed what he thought and felt, - showed
his liking without reserve, but did not talk
about it, and never flattered. Consequently,
the vain and shallow mass of men and
women had never taken much delight in
him; and, having no such debts to pay, had
never flattered him. Respected, even ad-
mired, and a little feared, he was not pop-
ular; but he had a few friends, who would
have trusted him with their lives and hon-
ors; and although he had not known it,
there had been women, whom he had passed
by without a look or a word more than or-
dinary courtesy demanded, who would have
gladly given him their lives and their hon-
ors and themselves. Being this manner of
man, and thus unskilled in woman's heart
and ways, his age, although it came upon
him as a mere intellectual conviction, a fact
in the abstract, yet seemed to him, chiefly
because of what he had read and heard, an
insuperable barrier between him and the
fruition of his love. He was not a man
either to whimper, or to insinuate himself
where he could not go openly; and there-
fore upon the subject dearest to his heart
he maintained an absolute reserve, not only
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of speech, but of manner. Yet although he
set a watch upon his lips, and chilled with
cold resolve the tenderness that would have
glowed in his eye, he could not wholly hide
his love from a girl like Margaret Duffield;
and he could not conceal, did not seek to
conceal, himself. For her, that was enough;
and although before her peril she had never
said plainly, even to her own heart, that she
loved Mansfield Humphreys, she was in just
such a condition that when the peril came
it revealed to her absolutely and pitilessly
the state of her affections; from which rev-
elation she did not shrink, indeed, but which,
she being the woman that she was, had
brought her mingled joy and fear.
For seeing, at least a little, the feeling of
Mansfield Humphreys toward her, she had
given herself up to the gladness of rejoicing
in it, of worshiping it, without yet acknowl-
edging more than that such a man's love
was a sort of divine manifestation that any
woman not she, Margaret Duffield, in
particular ought to love and worship.
But when she lay, an invalid, yet not dis-
eased, in the luxurious languor which was
the consequence of mere physical exhaus-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
165
tion, her mind quickly acting, although not
strongly active, she soon discovered that she
prized her life more highly because it had
been preserved to her by Humphreys; and
indeed that the preservation was more to
her than the life. She saw, moreover, that
she had given herself, heart and soul, to a
stranger, a man who, while he was of her
own race and speech, of her own religion,
and even of her own habits of thought, and
who, as he had told her, had cousins of her
own name, and not improbably of her own
kindred, although far remote, was not of
her own people; of whose family and friends
she was wholly ignorant; whose social sur-
roundings were not those into which she
had been born, and in which and by which
she had been bred to what she was. She
had given herself to a Son of Heth; and
it was a grief of mind to her.
It was a grief; for Margaret Duffield, not-
withstanding her independence, and in spite
of the protest of her noble soul against many
of the trammels of the society in which she
had been reared, was yet bound by the
bonds and shut up within the limitations of
that society. She was an English gentle-
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""
woman; and although this "American"
gentleman seemed to her yearning soul and
loving heart almost a god among men, she
had imbibed vague notions of what "Ameri-
can meant, and vague apprehensions of
evil in the social experience to which she
must submit if she became his wife. To a
gentlewoman, her social experience is the
very essence of her personal life; and there-
fore it was that Margaret Duffield looked
upon Mansfield Humphreys' love for her,
and the love that she now confessed to her-
self for him, with fear mingled with her joy.
None the less, however, she felt that she
owed him something for her life, and some-
thing more oh, how much more, she now
confessed! -for the love which had given.
her life such greater worth in her own eyes.
Therefore it was that, setting her teeth in
the face of her fear, she had sent him the
cluster of leaves that was the sign and token
of the strong bond that was now between
them, a token which he might interpret
as he pleased: either as a mere graceful ac-
knowledgment of the great service that he
had rendered her, or as an intimation that
he might speak to her as he never yet had
spoken.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
167
The tiny drop of blood which his eager
eye had detected on one of those leaves I
do not believe that she had seen. On such
a surface of mingled green and bronze and
red and yellow, blending and shading into
each other, a little crimson spot would
hardly be observed, unless upon very mi-
nute examination. Had it been plainly vis-
ible, it would have been removed before he
received this witness of his service and her
gratitude. For although she was open-
hearted enough and self-reliant enough to
send such a token to a man whom she
trusted as she trusted him, and who had
been to her what he had been, there was in
her soul a sense of delicacy mingled with
that rarest of qualities in woman, a sense of
humor, which would have made her shrink
from seeming to provoke a sentiment which,
when manifested, she regarded with a kind
of worshiping admiration.
As to any risk that she ran that he might
look upon her little memorial with the pet-
ty pride of a small-souled man in a female
conquest, she did not give it one moment's
consideration. Of him personally she felt
sure.
Her perfect love cast out all fear.
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Her trust in him was absolute, unquestion-
ing.
Trust could not have been more safely
placed. Yet it was not in man to be blind
to the possible meaning of such a gift; and
although, in the innate modesty of his soul,
and because of the life-long influence of his
fine breeding, he said to himself, This may
be merely a pretty token of thanksgiving
from a girl whose nature acts upon a higher
plane than that of mere social convention,
he felt that, notwithstanding his prudent
self-restraint, she might have seen his heart,
and that if she had seen it, he would not
have received such a token if his love had
been unwelcome.
Under like circumstances, in "America,"
he would have gone directly to her. Un-
der like circumstances he thought that an
English gentleman would have been likely
to tell her his love before he spoke to
her family upon the subject. But he, too,
felt the limitations of his position. Prop-
erly introduced (notwithstanding the gro-
tesqueness of his first appearance at the
Priory, which it should be remembered
Margaret had not witnessed); frankly and
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
169
warmly received, and treated with the con-
sideration to which he had always been ac-
customed; finding in the company at the
seat of this English earl nothing new to him
in manners and little in social tone; made,
by the kindness of his friends, to feel him-
self completely at ease in a household and a
society constructed upon larger lines and
a more broadly based establishment than
those with which any home-living "Amer-
ican" can be familiar, he yet felt that he
was really a stranger. He knew these peo-
ple, liked them heartily, and saw that they
liked him; and he was sure that they and
he would be friends always. But they knew
nothing of him but himself, nothing of
his family, his connection, his rightful place
in social life; and Mansfield Humphreys
was too much a man of the world not to
be conscious now painfully conscious.
that in any country, among people socially
well established, although in ordinary social
intercourse personal qualities will serve, in
marriage, family, connection, social position,
are of hardly less, and sometimes of even
more importance. And the orphan Mar-
garet Duffield, with her little hundred and
170
THE FATE OF
fifty pounds a year, was the grand-daughter
of a marquess and the cousin of a countess,
the ward of an earl. Therefore, as he sat
ruminating upon the case in which he found
himself, and gazing fondly at the cluster of
leaves which had come to him from the
heart of his soul's mistress, but without
kissing it, he determined not to speak to
her, not even to see her, until he had told
his story to Lord Toppingham, and could
woo her with the consent of her guardian.
He did not loiter. Mansfield Humphreys
never loitered about anything; and now it
seemed to him that the very sun lagged
slowly through the broken clouds, that cast
their lazy shadows upon the verdure of the
park.
After luncheon he sought Lord Topping-
ham, and found him, as he had expected, in
his study, a little room just off the library,
with guns in the corner, and gloves and foils.
upon the walls, where he wrote his busi-
ness letters, smoked his meerschaum, and
gave himself up to unmitigated manuish-
His cheery voice answered "Come"
to the knock; but to Humphreys' surprise,
Lady Toppingham was there, also. He did
ness.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
171
not shrink, however, nor abandon his pur-
pose. He was not unwilling to confess his
love before her; and indeed, after a mo-
ment's reflection, he hoped that he might
find in this generous and truly noble woman
an ally. But here he erred. A woman
may be willing to sacrifice herself for love;
but the world has not yet seen the gentle-
woman who regarded with equanimity such
a sacrifice on the part of any female mem-
ber of her own family.
After a few words between him and his
host and hostess, there was a pause, one
of those silences of expectation which de-
mand more strongly than words the occasion
of an unlooked-for interview.
Humphreys did not flinch, but said at
once," My lord, I have come to say to you
that my life will not be happy unless Miss
Duffield is my wife."
Lord Toppingham looked at him in blank
astonishment, and then said, but not un-
kindly, “Good gracious, my dear Mr. Hum-
phreys, I hope it is n't so. This is dread-
ful. Pahdon me, but I never dreamed of
anything like this."
Lady Toppingham flushed to her fore-
172
THE FATE OF
head, and she moved suddenly, as if she
were about to rise; but she kept her seat.
The truth was that she had dreamed of
something like this. It was impossible that
a woman of any experience of life could see
a man like Mansfield Humphreys constantly
in companionship with a girl like Margaret
Duffield, and finally doing her such a ser-
vice as his had been, without thinking that
one, at least, was likely to love the other.
Wherefore she had sounded her cousin, and
tempted her and provoked her; but all in
vain. Margaret kept not only her own
counsel, but, with a feeling of loyalty which
is woman's highest tribute of the heart, her
lover's secret, also. She was as wary as the
countess. If her cousin discussed Hum-
phreys' character and person, with furtively
watchful eyes, she discussed them also, free-
ly and with a placid face. If Lady Topping-
ham praised him, she assented, and not too
coldly. Nor could one or two half-earnest,
half-crafty scoffs and sneers at the "Amer-
ican" provoke the girl into the indiscretion
of a resentful defense. Margaret remained
mistress of herself and of the situation; and
Lady Toppingham came to the conclusion
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
173
that her apprehensions were needless as to
her cousin. And as to Humphreys, with all
her liking for him, she did not feel called
upon to concern herself greatly in the love
affairs of any strange, traveling "Ameri-
can," who by some accident had been
dropped into the Priory; so long, at least,
as he did not flutter its ancient dovecotes.
Therefore, when she saw this "Ameri-
can,
""
to whom she had been so kind, ac-
tually before her husband, her cousin's
guardian, proposing, with no hesitation and
no apparent self-doubt, for her cousin as his
wife, Catharine, Countess of Toppingham.
and daughter of the Marquess of A——————, felt
very much as if her great pet mastiff, Tor,
had turned upon her, or had been guilty of
some ungentlemanlike behavior: yet prob-
ably felt not quite so much surprise. For
I am inclined to think that in the silent re-
cesses of her soul her ladyship had more
confidence in the thorough good-breeding of
her English mastiff than in that of any
"American that ever lived, were he
George Washington himself. Her feeling
was one of mingled resentment and disap-
pointment; and she said in her heart that
""
174
THE FATE OF
Ir
she would n't have believed it of Mr.
Humphreys, he ought to have known
better. This resentment was not one whit
the less because Margaret's self-contained
manner had laid to rest apprehensions which
were, as she herself saw now clearly, en-
tirely as to the happiness and future posi-
tion of her cousin. Those seeming in no
peril, she had dismissed the matter from
her mind, how absolutely she did not
know until she heard Humphreys' avowal.
Her impulsive nature might have mani-
fested itself in reproaches; but the reserve
of a well-bred woman and the deference of
a well-bred English woman to her husband
sealed her lips, at least until he had given
his opinion.
To Lord Toppingham's sudden expression
of regret Humphreys at once replied, “I
am sorry, my lord, to have startled you,
and somewhat surprised, in my turn. Is it
so strange that a man should love Miss Duf-
field, and wish to make her his wife? It
is not long ago that you yourself told me of
three men, of various ages and positions,
who had done so.”
Ah, yes; quite so, quite so.
But, my
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
175
dear sir, in a matter of this sort we must
speak plainly; and you'll excuse my sayin'
to you that those were English gentlemen,
and quite in Miss Duffield's own rank of
life, men of well-established position and
fortune," and he paused, leaving contrast
and inference to his hearer.
"But, my lord, Miss Duffield has no rank,
nor had her father; and-pardon me for
saying that I am almost glad to know it-
neither has she any fortune. Serious as the
matter is to me, I should not have ventured
upon my proposal, if I had not what is con-
sidered a desirable position in society to of
fer Miss Duffield, and an income sufficient
to maintain such a position with comfort."
"Just so, just so. I see; and I don't
doubt for a moment that your position is
one that any lady in America would be.
proud to share. But you'll see that that 's
quite a different thing. And America is so
very far away, and so
certain sort of a place, if you 'll forgive my
sayin' so, that the idea of lettin' Miss Duf-
field be married to any person, however es-
timable and worthy of high consideration
(with a bow and a gracious smile), "that
so - very
SO - un-
""
176
THE FATE OF
comes from there is-is- so surprisin', so
unprecedented, that you'll excuse me for
sayin' it's quite inadmissible, not to be
thought of for a moment.”
Here Lady Toppingham, having thus far
yielded place to her lord and master, and
heard him give a complete and decided opin-
ion, came into the discussion, and took up
her parable, saying, "Besides, Mr. Hum-
phreys, what you say about Miss Duffield's
family having no rank is not at all to the
purpose. Margaret Duffield is of her own
right in our society, born into our rank of
life; and so would her father's daughter
have been, even if he had not married a
daughter of the Marquess of A- Why,
the Duffields are older than we are; they've
been seated at Milton-Duffield longer than
we've been at A
since Henry II.'s
time, and probably long before. There's
not a peer in the country, not even the
Duke of Norfolk, who would derogate at all
from his rank by marrying Margaret Duf-
field; and there are scores of peers who in
point of family are not to be named with
her, although her father's estate was under
five thousand a year."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
177
"All that I see, madam. A king might
be happy to marry Miss Duffield."
66
you
No, Mr. Humphreys; excuse me, but
don't see.
It's no King Cophetua and
the Beggar Maid matter. It's simply that
Margaret Duffield is an English gentle-
woman, a proper wife for any subject in
the kingdom, no matter what his rank, or
wealth, or distinction; a woman who, what-
ever she might accept as to fortune, can't
be expected or allowed to marry out of her
own rank in life, can't be asked to do so
without offense. No reasonable English-
man out of that rank would dream of pre-
tending to her hand.” The lady used this
large phrase in a large way, giving the r's
a little extra roll, and then continued.
"Why, there's Lady Harriet F———, whom
they've put into a private mad-house: one
of the surest evidences of her being insane
was that she wanted to marry out of her
own rank of life. You'll excuse me, but
my lord was quite right in saying that the
marriage of such a girl as Margaret to an
American would be inadmissible and unpre-
cedented."
Lady Toppingham's manner became so
12
178
THE FATE OF
warın and earnest as to approach excite-
ment; and Humphreys, leaving her with-
out reply, turned to the earl, saying, “As
to precedents for marriages between per-
sons of the highest social position in Eng-
land and Americans, Lord Toppingham can
hardly be ignorant that they have existed
for some time; and that of late they have
rather increased in number than dimin-
ished."
"To be sure. Yes, you're right, — quite
so, quite so; right as to your facts, but pah-
don me for sayin' not quite right as to their
value and the bearin' of 'em. Those mar-
riages, all of 'em, in times past and present,
have been of American women to English
men at least among people in our posi-
tion in life; a very different matter, you'll
excuse me for sayin', from the marriage of
an English woman of correspondin' rank to
an American. And then, too," deprecat-
ingly, "I'm sure that in all these cases
there were considerations- certain advan-
tages of fortune on the lady's part, and cer-
tain needs or deficiencies on the gentleman's
- that rendered the union desirable."
“Indeed, I should say so!" exclaimed
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
179
Lady Toppingham. "A man of rank may,
if he will, but even that's not very pru-
dent, — take his wife from any condition of
life, and if her reputation is untarnished,
and her manners good, and she is a present-
able person, she steps at once into her
proper position as his wife, and makes her
way according to her advantages, personal
and other. But a gentlewoman who mar-
ries out of her own rank in life is lost!"
As she spoke her voice rose, and she uttered
the last word almost with a cry; and no
longer able to restrain herself entirely, she
rose quickly from her seat and went to the
window. Under Mansfield Humphreys'
dispensation of Mr. Washington Adams,
Lord Toppingham had been somewhat dis-
turbed, if not excited, while Lady Topping-
ham had been quite calm and self-possessed;
but now, as he brought forward his propo-
sal of marriage, the man was calm and the
woman excited.
With the kindest manner, and a gentle,
almost pleading tone, Lord Toppingham
said, speaking very low, "You'll not mis-
understand Lady Toppin'ham, I'm sure.
She has a very high regard for you, as you
:
180
THE FATE OF
must have seen; but this matter presents
itself differently to you and to us; and
women always take such affairs so much to
heart! You must have seen that I, too,
and all our friends have not been backward
in showin' our likin' for your society. You
have been received among us, as you de-
served to be,pahdon me for alludin' to
it, — quite as we should receive an English
gentleman of our own position; and I as-
sure you it has given us great pleasure to
do so.
We have been the gainers-the
gainers in every way-by the favor of your
company. It is n't that."
"Yes, my lord," said Humphreys, with a
slight tone of bitterness in his voice, "I
know that people of your rank in England,
if a presentable American, who is in any
way interesting, happens among them, will
receive him kindly, and accord to him for
the time that he is with them a sort of
brevet rank of gentleman, and ask no ques-
tions, nor care to ask any, so long as he be-
haves himself and is not a bore. But you'll
excuse me for saying that, although I am
not without respect for social distinctions
(which have nothing necessarily to do with
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
181
political forms), and perhaps, indeed, for
that very reason, I do not visit any gentle-
man's house, in any country, on those terms.
I find fault with no man because he does
not seek my society, even if it be because
he holds himself above me. Let him
Let him go his
I am content,
way, and let me go mine.
and will think none the less of him, but
rather the more, because he asserts himself
and shows me his hand. But if a man
seeks my company, and invites me to his
house, among the ladies of his house, I do
not appear among them as a gentleman by
brevet. He has precluded that by making
me their companion. No man has a right
to set another down at dinner by his mar-
riageable daughter, and then to complain if
he wins her love."
As Humphreys earnestly uttered this
protest, Lady Toppingham, who had silently
returned from the window, startled him, as
she stood unseen at his side, by asking sud-
denly, "Have you won Margaret Duffield's
love?"
He was taken unprepared. What could
he say? He was desirous, above all things,
to be frank and open in this interview; to
182
THE FATE OF
have no semblance of concealment or re-
serve of thought. He was not certain that
Margaret loved him; but he was by no
means certain that she did not. After a
slight hesitation he replied, "I have no
right to think so, whatever I may hope. I
have never spoken to her, directly or indi-
rectly, upon this subject; and I am firmly
determined not to do so without Lord Top-
pingham's consent."
"Quite correct and handsome on your
part," said the earl, with a little bow, "if
you'll let the occasion excuse my sayin' so.
Just what I should have expected of Mr.
Humphreys."
Lady Toppingham now changed her tac-
tics slightly. Humphreys' prompt action
had prevented her from learning anything
about the sending of the cluster of leaves,
which would have told her all; but a mo-
ment's reflection showed her that his hesi-
tation and the nature of his reply indicated
some indefinite but significant relation be-
tween him and Margaret; and she feared
that this, if it were brought to light in con-
nection with Humphreys' manly and self-
sacrificing behavior, might weaken Lord
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
183
Toppingham's opposition. "Mr. Humph-
reys," she said, "you mentioned the suffi-
ciency of your income. You know that in
an affair of this kind that is of importance.
Have you any objection to telling us its
amount?"
"None, whatever; rather the contrary.
It will appear small to you, although I con-
sider it sufficient. I have between twenty-
five and thirty thousand dollars a year;
that is somewhat more, you know, than five
thousand pounds."
"Not quite Sir John Acrelipp's rent roll,"
the lady said, "but very handsome, I ad-
mit. Quite enough, if that were the only
question. Margaret's father had no more
at Milton-Duffield when he married my
aunt. Where is your estate situated?"
"Pardon me, madam; perhaps you mis-
understood me. I have no estate. We do
not have estates in America. I have a
house or two; but my income is from rail-
way stocks, government bonds, and mort-
gages."
"No estate!" said Lord Toppingham,
pricking up his ears. "I feared something
of the sort. It seems, then, that, notwith-
184
THE FATE OF
·
standin' your income, you are really with-
out any established position, even in Amer-
ica. A man whose family has no estate
we" (slightly emphasizing the word) "can-
not regard as one of established position,
however good his connection, or however
high his character and unexceptionable his
manners. Stocks and bonds," smiling, "are
very agreeable adjuncts to a landed estate;
but they cannot take its place. Miss Duf-
field might better accept the proposals of
some successful English barrister, or or
other professional person. I fear that you
must make up your mind finally to my de-
clinin' the honor of your proposal."
66
"Of course, of course," said the lady.
Why, Miss Duffield's own little income is
on a sounder footing. It is a rent charge
upon her grandfather's estate."
Lord Toppingham rose, and held out his
hand, saying, "Believe me, I'm extremely
sorry that this interview has necessarily
terminated in a way which, I must assume,
is very unsatisfactory to you. Let me beg
that you will not therefore leave us directly.
We should really feel hurt if you did. As
you have not addressed Miss Duffield, and
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
185
as she is ignorant of your feelings and in-
tentions, I shall say nothing to her of your
proposal."
Humphreys saw that he was finally and
absolutely dismissed; and taking Lord Top-
pingham's hand for a moment, and bowing
to the countess, he left the room. He de-
cided, however, to accept Lord Topping-
ham's invitation, and to remain a day or
two longer at the Priory: not with the in-
tention of abandoning his resolve and urg-
ing his suit to Margaret herself, but with
the vague notion and eager hope of some
possible change in the situation.
The earl's invitation did not meet Lady
Toppingham's approval. She saw that the
most important step was to get Humphreys
out of the Priory, and indeed out of Eng-
land; knowing, as she did, that a meeting
between two hitherto isolated but highly
charged bodies might flash into an explo-
sion which would blow all her plans beyond
the moon. But the invitation was given,
and could not be recalled.
Lady Toppingham therefore resolved to
address herself directly to Margaret, as to
whom she had made no promise of silence;
186
THE FATE OF
and, going to her room that night after din-
ner, she told her fully of what had passed
in the afternoon. She did not ask her as
to the nature of her feelings toward Mans-
field Humphreys; but she pressed upon her,
with all the earnestness and adroitness of
which she was capable, the view of Hum-
phreys' proposal which Lord Toppingham
and she had taken, a view which, as we
have seen, was not at all new or foreign to
Margaret herself, even in the present state
of her affections; although these were of a
strength and warmth far beyond what her
cousin suspected, and even beyond what
Humphreys hoped. During the week of
her convalescence her love had fed upon
her silent thought, and had grown greater
day by day and hour by hour. But the
influences to which she had been subjected
from her childhood were still at work within
her, and seconded all Lady Toppingham's
endeavors. She was reserved to a degree.
that alarmed her cousin; but the result of
the interview was an assurance, spontane-
ously given, that she would accept no offer
of marriage without her guardian's consent.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
187
VI.
MARGARET'S DEN.
THE next day, having obtained the con-
sent of her physician, the invalid came down
to luncheon. Lady Toppingham dreaded
the possible consequences of this step, and
endeavored to persuade her cousin to keep
her room a day or two longer; but Marga-
ret was quietly firm, and Lady Toppingham
knew her cousin well enough to be sure that
importunity would not only be in vain, but
would provoke rebellion. The truth was
that under her placid demeanor Margaret
was sick with longing to see her lover's
face, and to read in his eyes the love which
she had consented to sacrifice.
When they met, her faint and fear-hued
lips were drawn tight upon her teeth; her
dark eyes glowed like coals above her pal-
lid cheeks; and the hand she mechanically
held out to him was cold and rigid. It was
the first time that she had seen him since
188
THE FATE OF
he had assisted at her bedside to complete
that preservation of her life which he had
begun; but she did not thank him, nor
mean to thank him. What were thanks
from her to him, to him from her? She
knew this, and was silent. But when he
said, "I was longing for you to come down;
for I am leaving the Priory soon," she an-
swered, looking him straight in the eyes,
"I knew it; and I came.
He had ap-
-
proached her merely with the manner of a
friend who was rejoiced at her recovery,
and she had so received him, as any one
would have seen who had watched them
closely. But that mutual glance when eyes
first meet, that instant of communication,
which is hardly an instant, but time inex-
pressible, almost inappreciable, quicker
than lightning, for lightning lasts long
enough to be photographed, had fed full
the mutual hunger of their souls, and their
hearts were rejoicing with an exceeding
great joy one in the other. Therefore,
when he told her that he had been longing
for her to come down, his voice sounded to
her still enfeebled and somewhat dreamily
acting brain as if he spoke with the right
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
189
and the authority of a long-accepted lover,
one whom she had won and acknowl-
edged and made her master in some far,
dim, yet well-remembered time; and her
answer seemed to her, as to him, merely
a simple and proper recognition of his
right, and for her a delightful recognition
of it.
Humphreys did not sit by Margaret at
luncheon. Even if he had sought to do so,
-which he did not, Lady Toppingham
had, with due forethought, arranged matters
to prevent it; and very few words passed
between them. Directly after luncheon
the countess took Humphreys aside, and
with the greatest kindness and considera-
tion, but very seriously and impressively,
told him that she had informed her cousin
of what had passed the day before, of Mar-
garet's reception of the news, and of her
promise never to wed without the consent
of her guardian. The information produced
the effect that she intended. Humphreys
knew that he could trust Lady Topping-
ham not to misrepresent, and not even to
color, any evidence which she gave so seri-
ously; he saw Margaret's self-sacrificing de-
190
THE FATE OF
termination, and understood it; and he said
at once that it would be better for him to
leave the Priory that afternoon, and asked
the favor of a wagonette to take him to the
station.
Meanwhile poor Margaret herself was
passing through an experience which would
have afforded a young beauty of more
thoughtless head and harder heart some
amusement; but which, in her present state
of mind and body, was a new cross laid
upon her overburdened shoulders. Captain
Surcingle had been much exercised by Mar-
garet's injury and illness. During her con-
finement he had brooded over his love; and
in his simple way he thought that now, as
she had come down again, but was evidently
feeling "so awfully seedy," it would be a
good time to offer her the support of his
arm for a little walk, and the cheer of his
companionship for life. She did not refuse
his invitation to "a stwoll;" and, taking his
arm, she loitered languidly along, leaning
upon it as she might have leaned upon her
father's, and ungratefully thinking thoughts
f mingled happiness and grief, in which
be had no share. Insensibly their steps
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
191
tended toward a remote and retired part of
the garden, which she had been so much in
the habit of frequenting, in solitary moods,
that it was called Margaret's Den. There
were the remains of an old pleached alley,
some venerable yews, once trimmed to arti-
ficial shapes, but now neglected, and a great
evergreen maze, which dated from the time
of Charles II.
Captain Surcingle supported his fair bur-
den in perfect silence until they reached
this green recess of shade; in silence while
he placed her upon a rustic seat; and sat in
silence until he had made ineffectual at-
tempts to scrawl with the end of his stick
upon the hard old garden walk. Then turn-
ing suddenly to her, and as suddenly away
again, he broke out, —
"Margy, I feel awfully about you.”
“Oh, Jack, you need n't be troubled any
longer. I'm quite well now, except a little
weakness. See here! That's all now,"
and she held out her arm, from which her
sleeve fell away, and showed only a broad
black band over the wound. Unwise, and
yet altogether uncoquettish Margaret! to
show an enamored man an arm of such a
192
THE FATE OF
mould, with its whiteness ensplendored by
that contrast!
Oh, I say, Margy! — that won't do.
That's the way you always put it on me;
and it is n't fair to a fellah that 's so aw-
fully in earnest. I was awfully sowwy you
got hurt, of course, awfully; but you're
out of the splints now, and a girl of your
b- bone and pluck 'll soon come all right
again. But you know well enough that's
not what I mean. I mean I feel awfully
about you for myself. 'Nevah was weally
spoons on any other girl.”
"Don't, Jack, don't."
"Yes, but I will. Why should n't I?
Who's got 'better wight? Ain't you all
in the family? What's the use of goin'
out of it? Won't find 'fellah 's fond of
you as I am.'
""
"Jack, Jack, why will you talk so? You
know it's all nonsense.
""
"Not a bit of it: no nonsense about it.
I'm not such a fool as you think. I've got
enough, you know, to carry on the war com-
fortably in a cozy way; and if you'd have
me, the governor 'd come down with some-
thing handsome. An' jess see heah; Lowi-
1
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
193
""
mer [Lord Lorimer, his elder brother]
"lives at such a pace he may go off the
hooks any day, an' then you know I come
in for the title and estate. 'Fellah ought
to be ashamed to tell you that though; for
you don't care about things other girls do;
and you've always treated me better than
you have Lowimer. Only I'd like to give
you everything in the world, if I could."
This does not sound like very tender woo-
ing, but Margaret knew that few of the
suits couched in finer phase were half as
sincere; and she exclaimed, half to herself,
half to him, "Oh, I am so sorry, so sorry
66
י!
""
Sowwy! What 'you sowwy for? Know
you like me; youah always so jolly with
me. Youah enough to dwive' fellah cwazy,
and starting up from her side, he began
to stride up and down the path before
her.
Margaret looked at him a moment in si-
lence; and then, rising, she went to him.
As he stopped before her and looked down
into her face, she laid her hands upon his
shoulders, and returning his look kindly,
said, "Dear Jack, you're as good as gold;
and I'm more sorry over this than you can
13
194
THE FATE OF
think. But, Jack, listen! I can never be
your wife, never. No, no," shaking her
head sadly, "nor the wife of any other man.
Listen, again! I can trust you, Jack, and I
will tell you what I have not told anybody.
I belong, heart and soul, for all my life, to
a man whose wife I cannot hope to be.”
Surcingle looked at her a moment with
unwonted penetration in his eye, and then
said interrogatively,
"Mewican fellah?"
Her lips did not move, but her face said
Yes; and the captain ruefully commented,
"'Mewican fellahs gettin' evwythin' nowa-
days, all the cups; an' if they 're goin'
to get all the nice girls, I go in fo' a wow.
Ought to be a war, so we could polish 'em
off. I'd like to take two such as that fel-
lah for my share in the first scwimmage."
“Jack, dear, you need n't do that, to pre-
vent his getting me. Don't you see how
wretched I am? I can never be his wife.
It would n't do. But I'll never be any other
man's. Don't you believe me?”
"Believe anything you say, Margy."
"I know you do, Jack. And now will
you do something for me?"
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
195
"Do anything for you, Margy."
"I thought you would, even this. I'm
sure he's going away directly, — to-day, I
think; going home to America ; and I shall
never see his face again, never, never,
never." Her voice sank low, and there was
a wail in it as she uttered these words.
66 I
want you to find him now, and send him
to me, here. Say nothing to anybody
else; and do it now, won't you, Jack
now?"
He looked at her blankly a moment, and
then said, "By George, of all the cheek I
ever knew, the cheek of a woman is the
cheekiest!" But although he relieved his
feelings and expressed his astonishment in
this slang, he pressed her hand, and said,
Yes, Margy, I'll go." Poor Jack, brave,
simple, self-sacrificing soul! you would
rather have led a forlorn hope at Delhi, or
the charge at Balaklava.
Before she could
say another word he had left her.
Within a few minutes he stood before his
successful rival, and, lifting his hat, said
with even voice, as if he were giving a mili-
tary order," Mr. Humfweys, Miss Duffield's
compliments, and would you do her the fa-
196
THE FATE OF
vor to see her in her Den, -d'wec'ly?"
and, turning on his heel, was gone.
Margaret had 'resumed her seat, and,
drawing herself against the high back at
one end of the rustic settle, she leaned
there, with her hands lying listlessly in her
lap, as she saw Humphreys come out from
behind the maze.
He sprang quickly for-
ward, to take her hand; but she withheld
it, and, drawing back, motioned him to a seat
at the other end of the settle. He obeyed.
"Miss Duffield!"
"Call me Margaret now. I shall never
hear
you do so again."
66
Margaret, it was very kind in you to
send for me."
""
"It was not kind; it was selfish, - pure
selfishness; perhaps cruelty- to us both."
As she said this, the sharp, bitter tone in her
voice, usually so rich and low, cut him to
the heart.
"I leave the Priory this afternoon."
"So I supposed."
"Intending to take the next steamer for
New York."
“That is the best that you could do; ex-
cept never to return."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
197
66
Margaret, Margaret! I see you know
what you are to me, the only woman in
the world. I have some reason, have I not?
to believe that you value my love; and yet
you can let me go when you might keep me
here; and you bid me never return. Can
you really love me?"
"For that very reason, I bid you. See!
I have no concealments from you now;
and her fair face flushed rosy red as she
opened the top of her corsage a little, and
taking forth a crumpled handkerchief held
it out to him. The little crimson dashes in
the corner were not blood, but the cipher
W. M. H.
He put out his hand to take it, but she
drew it back, saying, "No, no! At least,
I may keep this."
"I have the other."
"The leaves. Poor leaves!
How little
I thought, when I first saw them, that they
would lead to this!"
"And yet, Margaret, if you love me
now
""
"If?"—almost
with resentment,
"and you here at my bidding?"
"You must have felt some love for me
before."
198
THE FATE OF
66
"I did not think; I was only happy."
Happier, perhaps, than I was then.
And now?"
She bowed her head, and twisting her
fingers together wrung them in and out,
crying, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" in a tone
which, although hardly more than a mur-
mur, was full of anguish.
It was not in man, in loving man, to bear
this longer, and he moved quickly toward
her. To his surprise, she sprang up, and
stepping behind the back of the settle
leaned upon it, saying, "No, no! Spare me;
for I am weak,- weak in body and in soul.
Let me keep my faith. Why ask for more
than you have, for more than you know,
when I cannot be your wife?”
66
Why not, Margaret? Why?"
"I have promised. I am Lord Topping-
ham's ward. It is not right that I should
be your wife without his consent; and that
he will never give, perhaps ought not to
give. I cannot control my heart; cannot
now, at least; perhaps I ought, before; but
I can my actions.”
“And I must leave you; never hope to
claim what your heart has given me,
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
199
""
merely because you were born and bred in
a certain rank of life here, and I am an
American, and not an English gentleman?"
"Yes. Let me sit down; for you know
that I am not strong; and she pointed to
his former place, which he resumed. "See,
Mansfield Humphreys," she said, speaking
now in her usual sweet, clear tones, "I am
only a very young woman, but a woman
who, you have said, sees what she looks at,
and thinks about what she sees.
Must a
girl like me tell a man like you that rank
is not a mere name, but a result, the
flower and fruit of a long growth, that, to
those who have it, is the most important.
possession of their lives? You know this."
“I do.”
"And yet you ask me — me, a woman,
to whom this atmosphere has been the
breath of my nostrils since I was born
give it up?"
to
"I did not ask you, until" — and he
checked what might have been both a boast
and a reproach.
Well, if
"You might have gone on.
that were all, I would give it up for you as
easily and as quickly as I give you this;
""
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THE FATE OF
and she broke a bud from a sprig that hung
over the settle, and tossed it into his lap.
He brushed it scornfully away.
"You are right. One is of no more real
value than the other; and yet for the sake
of that valueless thing, and that I may not
wound and wring the hearts of those of
whom I am a part, and who have loved and
cherished me from my infancy, I send you
away, away from me forever! Oh, for-
ever, forever!" and again she moaned, and
tormented her soft, white fingers.
"You love them better than you love.
me."
"An unkind, cruel speech, if you under-
stood; but you do not understand. First
of all I must do right. It is not only men.
who must sacrifice their lives to duty. To
that I am sacrificing all the happiness that
woman can hope for, except in the conscious-
ness that she has made the sacrifice."
"And I? My happiness?"
"It is for that, too, that I make the sac-
rifice. Listen to me quietly and believe
me, trust me; and she leaned a little for-
ward, speaking with a calm and even voice.
"Don't flout or doubt what I say; for a
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
201
young woman may sometimes see what es-
capes the eyes even of a mature man.”
"I know; I have often thought how
much older I am than you."
Her glance fell upon him, full of reproach-
ful love, and with a little contemptuous flirt
of her fingers, scarcely perceptible, she
went on: “I have never been in America,
but I know more of it, have read more
about it, than most of those who are around
me; and I know that I could not live in
America and among Americans, and be
happy-except always in you. And there-
fore you, after your first gladness in calling
me your wife had passed, you would not
be happy except, sometimes, perhaps, in
me. Our ways are not as your ways, un-
less you are misrepresented by your own.
people and your own writers. Do you be-
lieve the Bible? I know you respect it.
'Be ye not unequally yoked' is as true so-
cially as it is in religion. But I am ashamed
to preach to you; and it is needless. There
is my promise to my guardian, — a promise
which it became me to make, and which it
is my duty to keep. I shall keep it. But
can you think it strange that, although I
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THE FATE OF
keep it, I sent for you, that I might hear
your voice, and see your heart, and show
you mine, before we parted?"
"God bless you, Margaret."
“Yes, yes; before we parted forever."
She sat a moment, and clasped her hands in
"And now go, or we shall be in-
silence.
terrupted."
66
Margaret, Margaret, give me something
that you have touched; something that has
lain close to you, that is a part of you,
something, Margaret ! '
""
She raised her hands mechanically to her
neck, and unclasped a slender chain, from
which hung a little blue enameled jewel
that had dwelt beneath his handkerchief,
and held it out to him. The hand that gave
it was, unconsciously to her, that of her in-
jured arm, and again the sleeve fell away
from it, and showed the wounded place.
Humphreys seized the hand and in a trans-
port of passion once more bared the arm
to the shoulder and covered it with kisses.
She yielded to him for a moment, with an
abandonment the absoluteness of which
was blindness of joy to both.
"Forgive me, Margaret!"
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
203
!
"Is it not yours?"
Then, firmly withdrawing her hand, she
turned her back, and said, "Now leave me,
and farewell!"
He rose, and walked slowly away. At the
corner of the maze, around which his path
lay, he turned again. She had fallen upon
her knees, and was gazing after him, bent
forward eagerly, with her arms stretched
out as if in piteous entreaty. He paused;
but at once she shook her head and wildly
waved him away. He did not see that
when he passed out of sight she fell upon
the ground and lay prone as he had found
her wounded in the park.
He had made his adieus at the Priory,
and going directly to the stables he took his
wagonette, and was driven to the station.
Within a week he was homeward bound
upon the ocean.
204
THE FATE OF
VII.
A SACRIFICE.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS did not pine
for Margaret Duffield. No strong-bodied,
strong-brained man pines for any woman.
But he went about his work with a cher-
ished sadness in his soul, which he took out
at times from its hiding-place; oftenest at
night when he sat alone, as he did Marga-
ret's jewel; and love and jewel and sadness
together made him a sweet torment, that he
would not have exchanged for all the gay-
ety of heart that ever bounded to pipe and
tabor. But no one knew that he had this
tender aching in his bosom.
This had gone on nearly a year, when
one morning, at breakfast, he found among
his letters one with a British stamp and
"Toppington Priory" upon the sealing-flap.
It was addressed -
Mansfield Humfreys, Esqre,
Boston, Massachoosits,
America.
t
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
205
He opened it and read :
THE PRIORY, TOPPINGTON, MARLSHIRE,
10th September, 18-.
DEAR MR. HUMFREYS,
Would you
mind coming to the Priery? We should
n't mind having you, altho' we're not all
very well. Lord Toppingham sends kind
regards.
Sincerely yours,
C. TOPPINGHAM.
The phraseology of the letter seemed a
little strange to him, but not so strange as
if it had come from one of his Boston
friends. He had never happened to see
Lady Toppingham's handwriting; for dur-
ing his really short although momentous
sojourn, she had occasion to write him but
once, a mere invitation, and that her cousin
had written for her. He recognized the
Priory stamp on the paper and on the en-
velope; and as to the spelling of Massachu-
setts, and even of Priory, he thought little
of that. The former was only an example
of the prevalent English ignorance of
"American" things; and as to the latter,
he had caught himself, sometimes, in uncon-
scious phonetic slips of the same kind. The
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THE FATE OF
subject of the letter expelled all other
thoughts from his mind. He was sum-
moned to Toppington Priory, and by Lady
Toppingham; and all were not well. Was
the "all" she who was all to him? With
his usual promptness of action, he made ar-
rangements for an absence of a few weeks,
and in due course of steam by ship and rail
he presented himself at the Priory gate,
and sent up his card.
Lady Toppingham received him in the
drawing-room, with marked kindness, but
without the air of expectation or of con-
sciousness that he looked for. After a few
words, he said, with an earnestness which
his reserved manner did not conceal,
66
"May I ask after the welfare of Miss
Duffield?"
"Ah, I see how it is, and why you have
come; I think I see, at least. Mr. Hum-
phreys, do you still love my cousin ?”
66
Lady Toppingham, it is hardly three
weeks since I received your letter, and I
am here."
66
My letter! Pardon me; I wrote you
no letter. I don't quite understand."
Humphreys took out his pocket letter-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
207
case, and, quickly finding the letter, handed
it to his hostess.
"That is our paper, but this is not my
hand, nor even an imitation of it. I did
not write this letter. What is all this?
I see, I see. This is poor Jack's hand; and
Jack's spelling, too," she added, with a
smile. "How came he to do such a thing?
And now I think of it, he's been here al-
most all the time, these two or three days;
riding over early in the morning, hanging
about the house and the stables, and poring
over the newspapers, that he never looked
at before. I'll find him, and ask him about
this. Why, there he is, coming along the
terrace! Excuse me for a moment; and
she pushed open a window, and stepped
out.
""
"Jack," holding out the letter to him,
“what does this mean?"
The captain stopped, and, tugging at his
mustache, looked ruefully at the paper for
a moment, and then said, —
"Own up.
Means I've committed fo'-
gewy. I wote it. Meant to tell you be-
foah 'Mewican fellah got here. Did n't
want to tell you too soon, an' have you blow
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THE FATE OF
on poor Margy. 'Mewican fellah got here
when I was off duty, that's all. Letter
means wight. Letter means that Margy 's
sick fo' Humphreys. I'm awful spoons on
Margy myself, and was fool enough to think
that she'd look at a fellah like me; but
when 'fellah can't get a girl himself, there's
no use in bein' dog in the manger, when he
sees she's dyin' for 'nother fellah, and means
to do it, if she can't have him. What 's
the use o' blockin' the game, if other fel-
lah is n't a cad or a muff? You may want
to kill Margy; but not if I can help it.
'Mewican fellah's a gentleman, and now
he's over here, better give her her head."
And having uttered the longest and most
connected speech of his life, the captain
left the terrace, and went down the drive
with his long, swinging stride.
Lady Toppingham took a turn or two
upon the terrace, and then entering the
drawing-room went to Humphreys, with
water glistening in her eyes, saying, “That
dear old Jack, poor fellow, has been wiser
and better than we all." And then she
told him Jack's story; and also how, after
Humphreys had left the Priory, the light
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
209
in Margaret's eyes went out, and the spring
from her step; and how, although she was
cheerful, her smile was sad to see,
"oh, so
sad, so sad;" and how she seemed to have no
joy in life, not even in her music, although
she would sit at the piano-forte every evening
in the twilight, and play " things that would
break your heart;" and how they had taken
her to Italy, Jack going with them; and
how she had looked at Italy as if it were a
mere heap of rubbish lying above a buried
life; and how they had brought her home
again. "Jack's way," she said, "is the only
way. I know that my lord will yield; for
I confess that I—yes, even I, a woman,”
and she hid her face for a moment in her
hands "have had to hold him up to with-
stand another woman's happiness. And
now go directly to the poor girl. You'll
find her altered. She was in my room with
me when your card came in.
card came in. Be sure she's
there yet. You know the way."
Humphreys was quickly at the door of
the morning parlor; and as he silently
opened it, he saw that Margaret had seated
herself at the instrument where they first
had talked and listened together to music;
14
210
THE FATE OF
but her arms lay upon the unlifted lid, and
her head was bowed upon them.
His step aroused her, and, suddenly ris-
ing, she fled to the farthest corner of the
room, whence she looked at him with pale-
faced dread. Surprise at her act, her atti-
tude, and the expression of her face arrested
his step, but he spoke her name.
For an appreciable moment she did not an-
swer, but looked at him, shrinking. Then
she said, with scorn in her voice, "Did they
send for you to come to me?" But be-
fore he could reply, her white, transparent
cheek flamed red, and she cried, "God bless
them, if they did! For, Mansfield Hum-
phreys, if you had not come, I should have
died." She held out both her hands to
him with the same piteous gesture that he
had seen from the maze when they parted.
At first he put out his, as if to take them;
but he opened his arms, and she flung her-
self upon his breast, and with her own arms
around him, and her head where it had so
long ached to lie, she held up her noble
lips, love-parted, trembling.
Lady Toppingham, who did everything
handsomely that she did at all, secured
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
211
them against interruption; and it was after
a long hour of happiness so great as almost
to repay them for their suffering that Mar-
garet, pulling Humphreys' ear, said, with a
faint, saucy smile, "You'll please not think,
you vain creature, that it was for love alone
I should have died. But, oh, Mansfield,"
again clinging to him and nestling upon his
shoulder, “it was the struggle with myself.
There was such a fighting in my brain and
such a wailing in my heart. I had no rest
by day and little sleep at night."
After a few happy weeks of health-restor-
ing joy, Margaret was married to Mansfield
Humphreys, in the little parish church of
Toppington; and all the county neighbors
came to see. Lord Toppingham, of course,
gave her away. Her bridesmaids were her
cousins, the Ladies Alice and Elizabeth,
younger sisters of Lady Toppingham; who
nevertheless, in spite of a certain liking for
Humphreys, regarded the whole proceeding
with undefined apprehension: "Only an
American, you know!"
And who should be best man to Hum-
phreys but Jack Surcingle! Knowing that
the bridegroom had no near friend at hand,
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THE FATE OF
he frankly proposed himself, and was as
frankly accepted. When the marriage ser-
vice was over, and the wedding-party was
in the vestry, he went to the bride, and
taking her face between his hands and gaz-
ing into her eyes, he said, "God bless you,
cousin Margy!" and stooped and kissed
her long upon her forehead; but before he
could turn away, she threw her arms about
his neck and kissed him on both cheeks.
Then Jack Surcingle, without waiting
further ceremony, went straight out of the
church, and was no more seen. He managed
easily to get an exchange, and served Her
Majesty in Egypt.
A
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
213
LOVE'S EXILE.
VIII.
AN ENGLISHWOMAN IN
NEW YORK.
He
HUMPHREYS, if he had had his way,
would have started immediately for home,
and have passed the first fortnight of the
honeymoon upon the ocean. Not only did
his affairs begin to demand his presence in
Boston and in New York, but he longed to
have Margaret all to himself, and to free
her from the more or less restraining influ-
ences by which she was surrounded.
felt that he could hardly make her wholly
his own until he had cut her loose from as-
sociations of family, of friends, and of place,
amid which she had grown to womanhood.
So long as he remained at Toppington an
isolated "American gentleman," he was
conscious that, even with all the deep devo-
tion of her love, he must appear in the very
eyes of his newly-married wife a stranger,
and although not a foreigner (as a French-
214
THE FATE OF
man or a German would be foreign), in some
degree an "outsider;" one who, although
he was graciously received and even pre-
ferred to honor, was not regarded by those
among whom he lived as one of themselves,
or of their order. The heartiness of Lord
and Lady Toppingham and the whole Top-
pingham connection, their simple kindliness,
and their constantly manifested desire to
make him thoroughly at home among them,
could not conceal from him that he was to
a certain degree an object of inspection, of
observation. He did not quite like the very
satisfaction which they constantly showed
in their intercourse with him; a satisfaction
which their good-breeding and their deli-
cacy did not allow to manifest itself in
words, but which sometimes found uncon-
scious revelation in their faces and their
manner. He had been accustomed to be
taken upon trust, as a matter of course,
without trial or examination; and he si-
lently resented even a favorable verdict.
He would have silently resented it if his
new cousin, instead of being Countess of
Toppingham, had been Queen of England.
He saw that in manners, in speech, in men-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
215
tal and social tone, his new relations were
not in any way superior to his intimate
friends at home, indeed hardly in any way
different from them, and that a certain large
simplicity of manner, which was the distinc-
tion that chiefly attracted his attention in
their bearing, was due to the unconscious
effect of their high and clearly established
position. They wore their robes of dignity
as if they had been born in them; which,
indeed, they had. Nothing gives serenity
and ease like well assured position; to ob-
serve which socially Mansfield Humphreys
had not needed to go to England. For the
reasons foregoing, however, he wished as
soon as possible to take his wife wholly to
himself.
Margaret, however, had other views; and
during the happy weeks that preceded her
marriage she had laid a little plan of her
own. Her love for Humphreys was as full
and as fond as ever man had won from
woman; but nevertheless she felt her com-
ing separation from the people and the
places among which she had been born and
bred, from her home, her country, from
England, like a wrench, a sprain that racked
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THE FATE OF
her whole moral nature, and strained the
finest fibres of her soul. Consequently she
sought to mitigate and to ease this pang, of
which she had premonitory twinges. She
would give herself up to her husband and
become a part of him in England, while she
was yet surrounded with all the tender
charms and sweet associations of her girl-
hood: she would first make him a part of
her early happy life at home, and then go
away with him. For a little while at least
she would have him and his love and her
home and dear England all together.
Now on the edge of the park, standing
in pretty lawn and gardens of its own, was
a house of moderate size, but rather too
large to be called a cottage, an old tim-
ber and plaster house, with gables and long
low windows. It had been the manor house
of one of the little holdings which had been
absorbed into the ever-growing Topping-
ham estate. Its parlor was wainscoted and
ceiled in panelled oak that was both dark
and bright with age, and had a curiously
carved old mantel-piece over a great fire-
place before which two tall iron fire-dogs.
stood sentinel like men in armor. This
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
217
house, although it seemed to invite resi-
dence, was mostly uninhabited. The kitch-
en and a room or two were occupied by a
laundress who aired it and kept it in order.
There, when the Priory was very full and
festive, bachelor guests were sometimes col-
onized. In past generations, before the
Toppinghams were earls and the lords of
their now thousands of acres, it had served
as a jointure-house to some of the dowagers
of the family. Here, with the hearty con-
sent of her guardian, and finally with that
of Humphreys, Margaret decided to pass
her honeymoon, and to live until she said
good-by to England. Her choice was a
pretty one, and a wise; for here she and
Humphreys could live in perfect seclusion
when they chose to do so, and yet be within
easy reach of the Priory, almost still a part
of its household. Lady Toppingham saw
that it was made as comfortable and as at-
tractive as possible, and a maid or two and
a "buttons" provided all the necessary
service. Although the newly married pair
took possession of it immediately after the
wedding - breakfast, they passed almost as
much of their time during the ensuing
218
ТПЕ FATE OF
month at the Priory as in their temporary
home, dining generally with the Topping-
hams, and strolling home in happy lingering
walks through the long late twilight, which
in England seems sometimes as if it would
stretch on into the dawn. Margaret's in-
dependence of character, with its tinge of
originality, not to say of eccentricity, and
the fact that she would soon leave her home
to live among strangers in a strange land,
were gladly received by her friends as all-
sufficient reasons for this somewhat unusual
honeymooning; and as to herself, and even
as to Humphreys, her plan worked charm-
ingly. When they were at Maple Grange
for so the house was called — she gave
herself up completely to him and to her
happiness in his love; and it was under-
stood that there they were to be secure
against intrusion; but at the Priory it would
have been hard to discover that they had not
been married ten years; so that when the
time came for their departure she felt almost
as if she were leaving her husband's home,
as well as hers, for a season of travel.
Almost, but not quite. For when the
time did come, and the packing was over
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
219
and the luggage sent on to Liverpool, and
adieus were said, and the carriage that
took them to the station was rising a little
hill the top of which would shut off the
sight of the Priory, and the park, and the
tiny village of Toppington, and the cottages
where Margaret had carried the blessings
of her presence and her care, she sat lean-
ing her head on Humphreys' shoulder, with
her clasped hands stretched forward in her
lap, silently gazing on that she soon would
see no more, and great tears blinded her
beautiful eyes before the hill top shut out
the beloved prospect. When they reached
the crown Humphreys called to the coach-
man to stop, that she might take one long
last look. "No, no! Drive on!" she cried;
and, throwing her arms around him, said,
"Forgive me, darling, forgive me; but you
won't be jealous of dear England-will you,
darling?" And when finally on the steam-
er's deck they stood together at night, and
saw the last gleam of Wolf's Rock light
quenched in the great waters, she gripped
his hand hard, and bending her head down
upon the taffrail sobbed as if she were
broken-hearted. Humphreys had himself
220
THE FATE OF
too great a heart to feel the least annoy-
ance at this exhibition of grief, too large a
nature not to sympathize with it; but as he
took her to their state-room he wondered
whether any "American" girl, leaving her
native shores with the husband of her choice,
whether he himself, in like case, would
feel thus as if soul and body had been torn
up by the roots to be transplanted.
Margaret's steady nerves made her a good
sailor; and she landed at New York in such
high health and spirits that she was ready
to make the most of their brief sojourn in
the great Babel of the western world.
66
"Now Margery Daw," said Humphreys,
although you've sold your bed, you shall
not lie in straw. We'll go to the Brevoort:
that's a quiet English-like house, where
you will find it cosy and comfortable."
"Oh, no, no; since we're not to be at
home, what matter? Let me see the real
thing, now I'm over here. Take me to
the biggest and most American hotel in the
town."
·
"Are you in earnest?"
"Earnest enough to satisfy Carlyle."
They went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel;
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
221
and the young English woman, who, be it
remembered, had seen but little of London,
was plunged at once into the bewildering
whirl of the noisiest and most restless city
on earth. The first two or three days she
was stunned and dazzled, and went about
leaning on her husband's arm in silence, and
with a sense of apprehension. Everything
seemed painfully big, brilliant, and obtru-
sive. The great white building that glared
in the bright sun; the high-colored carpets
that glowed equally in the light of the day
or in the blaze of gas; the throng of people
who seemed to have no time for anything but
motion, not even to talk, but who rushed
about in silence with sad faces, out of which
sharp eyes looked doubtfully; the ceaseless.
clang and clatter of the street-cars, with
their ever-tinkling bells; the rush of trains
through the air on the elevated railways;
the enormous size of the shops and the flar-
ing display of goods in their vast plate-glass
windows; the dirt, the dust, the wind; the
houses coming down, the houses going up,
in either case filling the street with rubbish
and confusion; the entire absence of defer-
ential manner in the people, even the ser-
222
THE FATE OF
vants, with whom she was brought in con-
tact; the howling of great steam-whistles
at night on the two rivers; the shrieking of
the little whistles that woke her in the
morning when she wanted to sleep, that
told her when it was twelve o'clock, when
it was one, and when it was five; the vivid
colors of the very omnibuses; these were
a few of the things that left upon her mind
a sense of semi-derangement, which was
deepened by a general air of heterogeneous-
ness that seemed to pervade the social at-
mosphere.
"Is it true," she asked, after an experi-
ence of two or three days, "that Americans
live, of their own choice, in a house like
this?"
"Some of them do."
"And call it home?"
"I suppose so they have no other."
"I should as soon think of having apart-
ments in a great railway station and calling
that home, or of settling down for life at
Clapham Junction !
""
"So should I. So would most of the peo-
ple with whom you will have any personal
intercourse. These people never settle
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
223
down for life. New York is the worst city,
in this respect, in the country, little better
than a great cosmopolitan, commercial cara-
vansera; and yet, although it is the third
⚫ city in size in the world, you will find that
it is composed, out of the business quarters,
not of hotels, nor even of boarding-houses,
but of private dwelling-houses. Who do you
suppose live in them -angels and English
people?
66
""
Ah, yes. To be sure. I did n't think of
that. What a foolish girl I am! And yet
-now, most superior sir, don't be vexed
and sit down upon me in all your height
and grandeur — most of the people one
meets here in the street look as if they lived
in hotels. They don't look as if they were
going home."
"That may be in New York, and one
or two other places like it; but you'll find
out, or if you don't find out for yourself you
may believe it without, that New York is
not a representative town. It's the most
un-American place in the country; has no
character of its own. Not one half of its
inhabitants were born in it; and about one
third of them were born in Europe. It's a
224
THE FATE OF
place whither all sorts of adventurers from
America and from Europe throng to make
money and to spend it."
“And has no real society of its own; no
quiet, settled, cultivated people? What a
dreadful place! "
None better in the
see; but you don't
"Yes, indeed it has.
world, as you will soon
find that society in the hotels, the streets,
and the theatres, my dear young British
traveling critic. The very fact that New
York has been invaded from all quarters of
the earth, including this quarter, and has
become the heterogeneous mart it is, causes
this society to live out of public sight as
much as possible."
"But all these queer paragraphs in the
newspapers about circles of fashion?"
“You 'll find that in this country no one
can stop the newspapers' publishing just
what will please their readers; and their
readers are chiefly the half-foreign all-hete-
rogeneous people that you find in the ho-
tels, in the streets, and in the theatres. And
besides, seven in ten of their fashionable
reception-givers are only successful adven-
turers who can't speak English, and who
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
225
twenty years ago knew no more of fashion-
able society than they do now."
As
That Humphreys should take Margaret
to the Park was a matter of course.
they drove up Fifth Avenue she looked
from side to side and said, " Very handsome,
very handsome indeed; and all these car-
riages, too, with their incessant trot, trot,
trot. What's the reason everything makes
so much more noise here than it does at
home? - Lots of money here plainly. Your
American Belgravia, I see. Here I suppose
that republican aristocracy lives that dear
Lord Toppingham says you told him of."
"A lady who visits a good deal in the
Avenue, as some New Yorkers call it, told
me that it was full of snobs.'
""
"Oh! ah! I see! Just so. Then I may
ask, may n't I, Mansfield. Don't you think
it looks a little raw, rather fresh; as if it
was all built yesterday, and might be pulled
down to-day, and rebuilt as well,
to-morrow?"
haps better
or per-
"Things must begin. Even London be-
gan once. If we could import a little smoke
and fog, all that would soon be changed."
“No; no, indeed it would n't; for just
15
226
THE FATE OF
look there! Two men on those ladders
scrubbing that marble porch with water and
sand, just as it has begun to mellow and tone
down a little! Do you love glare here as
well as noise ? "
The Park pleased Margaret much. She
could appreciate the taste with which it was
planned and decorated, and the skill with
which the most had been made of its capa-
bilities and configuration. She expressed
her admiration warmly, and asked who
planned it.
"Frederick Olmsted and Calvert Vaux."
"O that's nice. Two such good old
English names. Does n't everything you
have here that 's nice come, somehow, from
England?" Then after a while, “But yet
it does n't seem to me quite like a park.
It's more like a scene in a theatre. Why
don't you have some trees, and some real
lawns, instead of these sickly stretches of
coarse sea-green grass?"
Reason, little girl, reason! The parks
you have in mind have been centuries in
growing. Only a few years ago this place,
which is not older than you are, was a
howling wilderness, with hardly a tree or a
:
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
227
shrub or a sod; a waste of suburban rubbish
and unspeakable abominations. Come back
here a hundred years hence, and you will
find "
“What? why do you stop?"
"Either a truly noble park, or else, again,
abomination."
"And how can that be?”
"It has fallen out of the hands of your
friends with the good old English names
into those of what Jack Surcingle would
call our Iwish lot."
"And they do what they like with it?"
"With everything in New York, except
the private houses and some of the
churches."
Margaret thought of this one day when
Humphreys had taken her to the Astor Li-
brary and then to the grave of Peter Stuy-
vesant, which her delight in Irving caused
her to inquire after. Looking at the plain
freestone slab upon the outer wall of St.
Mark's-in-the-Bowery, she said, "And does
old hard-kopping Piet lie here? This, at
last, is something like history."
“In a very small way," interjected Hum-
phreys.
228
THE FATE OF
*-
"What a queer old fellow he must have
been!"
Queer old fellow! he was an able man
and a high-minded gentleman. You should
see his portrait by Vandyke.
know that Knickerbocker's
New York' is pure burlesque ?"
6
Don't you
History of
“And is n't true? I thought of course
that Irving's humor had made it entertain-
ing, but supposed that after all it was really
true."
C
"About as true as Becket's Comic His-
tory of England.' When it appeared, and
long before it was known abroad, the old
New York people were incensed at Irving's
ridicule of their forefathers; and it was
many years before their anger at his inno-
cent pleasantry was placated. They had
good reason; for your misapprehension of
it is moderate compared with that of other
people. It has been translated into French
with the unavoidable loss of much of its
humor, and is read, I know, by many peo-
ple in France as a veritable history of the
principal city of those strange, ridiculous
people, the Americans.
grotesque misrepresentations of America, it
Like all absurd,
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
229
has a thousand delighted readers for one
who reads a sober presentation of the sim-
ple truth."
"And yet it was written by an American.
-Do you know, I'm beginning to think
that Americans have themselves to thank
for much of the misconception of their coun-
try and its people that prevails in Europe?
Judging by their books and their news-
papers, with all their sad and weary look,
they seem to delight in presenting exagger-
ated and perverted pictures of themselves.
They are never really serious, unless they 're
angry, as you were with dear guardy in the
railway car."
66
Angry, Margery! I was n't angry.
We were as good-natured and polite as
possible; not angry."
66
No, no. I know you were n't; but
guardy said you were pretty sharp. I'm
sure, though, he rather liked you for it."
They turned toward the Third Avenue,
and Margaret, seeing the red cars pass,
begged to be allowed to ride in one a little
way, just that she might see everything.
Humphreys reluctantly consented. As she
stepped up before Humphreys, the conduc-
230
THE FATE OF
tor took her by the arm and pressed her
into the door of the car.
“What did he do that for?" she said,
as Humphreys followed her. "How dared
he take hold of me?'
66
They call that 'passing 'em in.' He
didn't mean to be rude. It's a common
custom with these conductors who are, most
of them, foreigners and hangers-on of poli-
ticians. I'm not sure that it is n't regarded
by them rather as a delicate attention."
Margaret's shrug of her shoulders was
almost a shudder.
"Did the London 'bus conductors never
do it for you?" asked Humphreys, with a
quizzical smile.
66
Why, Mansfield! you know I was never
in a 'bus at home."
There were only fifteen or twenty pas-
sengers scattered through the car, and a
man in a slouch felt hat, with a large am-
ethyst ring on a dirty little-finger, rose, and,
quite unsolicited, gave Margaret his seat
that she and Humphreys might sit together.
She bowed, and said "Thanks." He took
no notice, unless it was by a copious and
emphatic utterance of tobacco spittle upon
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
231
the floor. The conductor came up at once,
and, prodding Humphreys in the shoulder,
held out his hand. Humphreys gave him
a quarter-dollar.
"Two?" said the monosyllabic gentle-
man, nodding inquiringly at Margaret.
"Two," said Humphreys, receiving ten
nickel cents and a five-cent piece.
"What did he do that for? How dared
he poke you in that way? Why did n't he
speak?"
"Because if he spoke he must have been
polite, or at least civil. No one here need-
lessly wastes words or civility.
66
""
Why didn't he wait? Was he afraid
you wouldn't pay?"
"It's the rule here. The first law is
that a man, if he chooses, shall get what he
calls his money,' no matter how, and in
advance of his service."
"And what did he clang that bell for,
and do it again and again? To make more
noise? It's very disagreeable."
"To record on that dial, and to announce
to all within hearing, that he had received
ten cents, and thus diminish his opportunity
of putting any of it into his own pocket.
232
THE FATE OF
"And so we must be made uncomforta-
ble by this continual clanging during our
trip that we pay for, lest the company
should lose five cents! Our comfort is
nothing; their profit everything. Well,
indeed, America is the land of the free, and
the home of the brave—and honest."
Then sitting yet a little closer to him,
and looking about again, she said in a low
voice, which was drowned by the clatter of
the car, "And these, I suppose, are your
lower classes. I don't like the look of them.
They wear very good clothes, as everybody
seems to here; and they look sharp; but I
like my poor old women, and the stupid
Toppington boys better."
"Our lower classes! Why, Margery, look!
all these people are Irish. Every creature
in the car, but you and me and that old wo-
man with the bundle, was born in Ireland;
except, perhaps that lad, and he is Irish,
although he may have been born here."
Thus instructed, Margaret was able to
perceive, under the general look of surface
Americanism given by dress and a certain
indescribable air of averageness, that what
Humphreys said was true. Just then, an
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
233
elevated train went roaring overhead, and
as Margaret was frowning at the din, a
mingled puff of steam and gas pervaded
the car, as happens in some states of the at-
mosphere. She sniffed and coughed, and
said, "This is more than I bargained for.
Did you like that, Mansfield?"
"Can't say I did.
I did.
But you must n't be
too particular in a land of liberty."
"Do the people that live along here like
it, and to have those trains of cars run
every few minutes just before their first-
floor windows?"
"I don't suppose they 've ever been
asked."
"And to have their street filled and dark-
ened with this hideous thing that looks like
Clapham Junction made into hanging-gar-
dens for your American Babylon? Do the
public here like that?"
"I believe not, except those who travel
on these elevated rails."
“Have n't the others any rights?
""
"None that corporations are bound to
respect."
"How long are these high tramways?"
"About four miles."
234
THE FATE OF
"And four of them, you once said. Why
don't they run underground?”
“That would cost the company too much."
"You have two great rivers, one on each
side of you; why don't you have nice little
steamboats from down town to up town, as
we do on the Thames?'
"Because then we should be obliged, af-
ter we landed, to walk a quarter or a half a
mile, or to hire a cab.”
"And so you destroy comfort of life and
decency of appearance in twelve miles of
closely built streets, through the oldest part
of a great city, that a corporation may
make more money, and that people who
choose to do business at one end and to live
at the other, may save their sixpences and
their shillings! Truly, as you said, one
must n't be too particular in a land of lib-
erty!"
Margaret subsided into silence for a few
moments, and then pulling Humphreys'
sleeve said, "Look there! See that great
wagon following us on the rails, with those
two men shoveling out dirt from it? What
can that be for?"
"That's fine gravel they 're throwing on
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
235
the track to keep the horses from slipping,
and make it easier going.'
""
"Why don't the company shoe their
horses properly, and have a proper road?"
"This is cheaper."
"And for that you submit to have dirt
thrown into your streets, and ground into
powder, and blown into your eyes and over
your clothes and into your houses and down
your throats! Truly you Americans are a
long-suffering people, and do 'lack gall to
make oppression bitter.'
As they carried on this conversation with
some difficulty under cover of the noise and
the confusion, all the seats in the car had
filled rapidly, and, more passengers being
taken in, the way between the seats began
to fill.
"What's the matter?" said Margaret.
"The carriage is full. What are these peo-
ple doing here."
"In New York nothing is ever full.”
Presently a man standing by Margaret,
trod upon her toe, after crowding against
her knee. A very brief experience of this
phase of New York life satisfied her curios-
ity, and she said, "Thanks, I won't have
236
THE FATE OF
*
any more of this. I'll let you tell me the
rest. Do let's get out, please!
As they were walking through the next
street, Margaret suddenly exclaimed, “Oh,
what droll people you Americans are! See
that golden eagle, the American eagle,
perched, with wings all spread, atop of
that great gilt tooth; as if the creature had
torn it up by the roots. The American
eagle for a dentist's sign!
uses!' — eh, Mr. Horatio?"
6
To what base
“O Margy, Margy, you are much quicker
than Hamlet, but not quite so clever. He
would have looked twice, and have thought
a long while before speaking. We Ameri-
cans! as usual.
Look underneath the
eagle, and read the name."
"Dr. Ziehen."
"And on the gilt tooth?"
“Zahnarzt,' ” blushing, and slyly droop-
ing her head.
"Ah, you begin to suspect. You are not
two hundred yards from the Astor Library,
not a quarter of a mile from Broadway;
and yet where it is necessary to have the
signs in German. And of course your very
German dentist is fiercely American, and
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
237
must draw teeth (or at least customers as
Dutch and as patriotic as himself), by a
swoop of the American eagle. That's not
our way. We Yankees don't fly our bird,
unless at higher game. But by the way,
my fair cockney, did you ever see at home
the lion and the unicorn a-fightin' for the
crownd, on a pickle-jar?" Margaret pinched
his arm.
"What matter is it to me or
mine," continued Humphreys, with a little
scoffing laugh, "or how are we more re-
sponsible for your Dr. Ziehen, whether he
is here or in his native country eradicating
the molars of some Grand Duchess of Dun-
derhausen-Blunderhausen ?"
As they walked westward she asked,
"And so all the people here that look like.
those we saw are Irish?"
"No; almost as many are Germans. If
we had taken the car on the next avenue
eastward, even had it been full, probably
every passenger except ourselves would have
been German. That I have often seen. It
may be seen at any hour of any day."
"And where are your American lower
classes?"
"We have none of our own. We import
238
THE FATE OF
our lower classes from Europe. They are
the only foreign product against which we
have no protection."
"And you import the lower classes of
Europe to let them rule you; even in such
an almost home matter as the destruction of
your pretty park?"
"Let! We can't help it. In five years
they all become citizens just as we are, and
betther too.' After a short enjoyment of
the sweets of political power, they regard
the hive as theirs, and us as intruders."
—
"Citizens ! just like you! Then any
one of those men that I saw may become
your President?"
"You forget, or have n't learned. The
President, at least, must be native and to
our manner born. He is the only one of
our rulers and our servants that we don't,
or may n't, import."
"That I don't like at all. I love both to
be ruled and to be served by my own coun-
trymen. Else I should n't feel as if I had
a country. One's country is n't the mere
ground one digs and walks on."
Although Humphreys and his wife were
stopping in New York only for a few days
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
239
on their way to Boston, and did not seek
society, a few of his friends who heard of
their arrival called, and one of them, Mrs.
Dudley Stanford, had a small party at din-
ner, with an evening reception in their
honor. Margaret was much admired and
seemed to enjoy the little affair thoroughly.
Some of the gentlemen pleased her greatly,
and she declared herself an open admirer
of Mr. Stanford, their host, by whom of
course she was taken in to dinner. His tact,
his ease of manner, his varied information,
and an air of deferential gallantry, relieved
by remarks full of good sense and occasional
sallies of dry humor, quite took her captive.
He was a merchant, as Humphreys had
informed her when Mrs. Stanford called;
and he was the first merchant with whom
this country-bred English gentlewoman had
been brought thus into direct companion-
ship. As they were driving home she said
to Humphreys, "If your Mr. Stanford is
a fair specimen of a New York merchant,
I can't agree with you as to the evil influ-
ences of trade on New York society. I have
rarely met a more agreeable companion or
a more accomplished gentleman."
240
THE FATE OF
"But he's not, Margery, he's not. He
is a fair representative only of a certain
class. The people whom you met to-night
are all of the most reserved class of New
York society. Stanford is of an old New
England family. He is a graduate of Har-
vard. We were classmates. He was in-
tended for the bar; but he had a good op-
portunity to go into trade, and like a wise
fellow as he is, he availed himself of it, and
made a fortune rapidly. He has a thou-
sand dollars for every one that his father
had; but his father was as thorough a gen-
tleman as he is, perhaps even a little
more thorough bred. His wife was a Miss
Van Corlaer, one of the old Knickerbocker
stock. There are indeed other New York
merchants as well educated and as well-bred
as he is; but you must not take him, brick
that he is, as a specimen brick of that vast
multitude. There are merchants like him
in England, as I have seen; but are there
many?"
"How should I tell? We knew no
people in trade; although now I recollect
guardy did have a banker or two down
once; and one of them was ever so nice.”
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
241
The conversation dropped; and Hum-
phreys was surprised that Margaret made
no further remark upon this evening's expe-
rience, and said very little more about the
people whom she had met. Wherefore the
next day he spoke of her silence, and asked
if she had been disappointed.
66
Disappointed? No. The evening was
very pleasant, and the people were very
nice. Why disappointed?"
"Because, although it was your first ac-
quaintance with society here, you say noth-
ing about it; although you are so anxious,
as you say, to see all there is to be seen."
“Ye-e-s; that's a fact, as you Americans
say," Humphreys shook his finger at her
as she looked saucily up,-"but, don't
you see, Mansfield, that there's nothing
particular to be said? Those people had
nothing peculiar about them; nothing to
arrest attention. They were well bred, and
as sensible as most people are in society;
but that was all; except, indeed, my dear
Mr. Stanford. Of course the surroundings
and the things we talked about reminded
me I was in America, but only for that I
should not have known that I was not in
16
242
THE FATE OF
England; unless, indeed, that the men were
a little meeker than Englishmen, and some
of the women a little too pronounced in
manner, and too conscious of their handsome
gowns, to suit my taste. I've seen such in
England, too, but rarely at the Priory.”
"Ah, Margery, even you are just like the
rest of your people: always on the lookout
for something strange and grotesque, and
passing over simple folk like me and my
friends without a word."
"But, you insane creature, why should
there be a word about such commonplace
people as Mr. Mansfield Humphreys and
his friends? Among my friends we take
all such folk for granted; give thanks si-
lently, and say nothing.'
"There should be a word about them,
because the commonplace is generally the
characteristic. If you say nothing about
them, you should say nothing about the rest,
or to other people at least you will convey
a false and injurious impression."
"What matter? It may be wrong; but
is every wrong a woe? Can't
you afford to
laugh at it? I do believe, Mr. Washington
Adams, that you 're half daft on this sub-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
243
ject; just a little touched here;" and she
tapped her beautiful forehead with her fin-
ger.
66
Margery, Margery, every wrong is a
woe; and think a minute," said Hum-
phreys seriously; "if America and Ameri-
can society had been habitually present to
your mind and your friends' minds as you
saw it last night, should we have lost a year
of our lives in sorrow and suspense?"
As he stretched out his hand to her she
grasped it, and, drawing herself to him, said,
"You are right, darling, you are right. I
never thought of it in that light." Then,
lifting her head from his shoulder, she said,
with mischief in her eyes, "Is that an ex-
ample of what you logical creatures call the
argumentum ad hominem?"
6
"Ad feminam, this time, little girl, ad
feminam varium et mutabile semper.
Do you understand that?"
9
“A woman must be dull indeed, or live
among men who never went to school, not
to find out what that means.
""
"But perhaps there was something not
quite so commonplace to you as you suppose
in those people last night. What did you
244
THE FATE OF
think of your neighbor on the other side at
dinner, Mr. Bassett?"
"That dark-eyed man who was so re-
served? Yes, he was introduced and we
had a little talk. An elegant fellow. Very
well-mannered and distinguished. Had n't
much to say for himself, though, I thought.”
"You'd hear him talk fast enough if
you saw him down town. He's an auction-
eer."
"Auctioneer!” cried Margaret in amaze-
ment, opening her eyes as wide as her
mouth; "a man that says 'going, going,
gone!""
"Just that: an auctioneer and a real
estate agent."
"Real estate agent? I don't quite un-
derstand. Oh, I see, sells and lets houses
and lands for gentlemen. This is dread-
ful. I never heard of such a thing as a per-
son like that being asked to dinner. How
came he there? "
66
My little Britisher, as you say in Eng-
land" (Margaret retorted his former threat
for this return gibe), “Mr. Bassett is a gen-
tleman, who sells and lets houses and lands
for men of all positions, most of whom he
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
245
would not regard (in private) as gentle-
men; and most of whose wives, although
their husbands could buy him ten times over,
would give all their old shoes if his wife
would call upon them. His family, although
not wealthy, were known in New York as
people of culture and consideration long
before the Revolution. But let us go on.
I saw my namesake, young William Mans-
field, talking to you with every evidence of
admiration. Was it mutual?”
"He! that tall, blonde, broad-shouldered
fellow with the golden hair and beard?
Yes, indeed: he was ever so nice: reminded
me of Jack Surcingle; although he'd more
sense than poor Jack; but I don't believe
he is a bit better; although I'm sure he is
good. He was very entertaining; told me
some very interesting stories about the
West. What of him?”
"Well might he tell you about the West.
He's a miner."
"A minor! He's young; but I should
say he's more than of age.
""
"N-e-r, Mistress Bull, not n-o-r."
"Oh, a miner! owns mines, I suppose."
“Well, yes, he does now own shares in a
246
THE FATE OF
mine or two that, if they turn out well, will
make him rich by the time he's thirty-five.
But he has worked in mines himself; put
in blasts, and put up timbering with his
own hands.
He was
elegant as you saw
him, and liked in society-living on a little
salary a few years ago, very busy in the
day, very gay at night. All at once his
employment and his prospects failed him.
He had studied engineering, and, without
dallying or whining, he "went West," as
the phrase is here, into the mining country;
took hold of what first came to his hand;
worked like a navvy; shrank from noth-
ing; suffered hardship and privation; at
last got on moderately well and secured a
promising claim or two; and now that he 's
on here to sell part of it, he takes just the
same place he had before. I know all about
him; for he's a cousin of mine once or
twice removed."
"I wish he was nearer. A manly fel-
low, and looks such a swell. He's more
like a young English gentleman than any
man I've seen here. Was he educated in
England?"
"Another blunder, but the same Bull.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
247
Not only was William Mansfield not edu-
cated in England; but he has never crossed
the ocean or been out of the United States,
nor had his father or his mother, nor his
forefathers or foremothers since they came
to New England in the reign of Charles I.
It is such men chiefly, not your traveled
Americans, that you take for Englishmen,
and for English gentlemen. Most of the
people that you see at the hotel, here, have
been to Europe, and more than once."
“I shouldn't have thought it. Why
don't you keep them at home, and send
more men like your cousin and"—with a
little turn of her head 66 your cousin's
cousin?
""
"What good would that be? How did
you treat my cousin's cousin?"
"I ? "
"You, darling! A thousand times bet-
ter than he deserved; but all of you, your
set. And besides, kind as they were, they
managed to make me feel more as if I
were under inspection after we were engaged
than I did when I was playing Washington
Adams. I believe your friends liked me
best in my American rôle. I was more
amusing."
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THE FATE OF
"Bother Mr. Washington Adams!"
"I don't say so. But for that gentleman,
you would not have been here."
"No more I should. How strange !
and Margaret fell a-musing.
""
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
249
IX.
A NEW HOME IN BOSTON.
THE next day they went to Boston.
Margaret was much impressed by the same-
ness of the country through which they
passed, the deficiency of any points of in-
terest, the absence of large houses and large
trees, and of cottages, and by what she
called the inhuman look of the landscape.
She said that the people and the land did
not seem to be very well acquainted with
each other. The length of the journey,
too, wearied and surprised her.
It was
quite, she said, like traveling into a far
country, another kingdom.
"And so it is," said Humphreys. "You've
been in three kingdoms to-day ;" and then,
in answer to her open-eyed look of inquiry:
"First New York, then Connecticut, and
last Massachusetts, in which we now are.
Three independent governments, the heads.
of which have the power of life and death,
250
ТПЕ FATE OF
and which are not at all responsible to each
other for their acts, or for their laws, which
in many respects are quite unlike. We
might be man and wife in any one of them,
and William Mansfield Humphreys, bach-
elor, and Margaret Duffield, spinster, in
either of the others."
"What a dreadful thing to say, Mans-
field! Why will you say such frightful
things? How could that be?"
"True, nevertheless. Different marriage
laws in all the three States, every one of
which is absolute and independent in con-
trol of all the personal relations of life.
But don't be alarmed; we've not been
divorced quite yet," with a quizzical smile;
"and, as it happens, you were Mrs. Mans-
field Humphreys all the way.”
"But how can it be as you have said? I
thought it was all America here; one great
country, of the greatness and the unity of
which you were all so proud; and that your
States were quite like our counties at home."
Nothing of the sort; except that a
man's true country here is really his State,
as your counties are in England; although,
even of us, comparatively few at the North
66
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
251
see and feel that truth. Your favorite, Mr.
Freeman, is nearly right on that point.
You'll understand it all in a few months.
It's very simple. — But here we are at The
Crossings."
"Clapham Junction again!" exclaimed
the fair Briton. "You've forty Claphams
in America. America is one great Clap-
ham."
A few minutes' drive brought them to
the Vendôme, where Humphreys, while at
New York, had secured a small suit of
rooms in which they were to live until, after
inspection and counsel together, they de-
cided where they would have their home.
For in talking over this subject on their
voyage Humphreys found in Margaret such
a feeling of uncertainty and apprehension
as to the places and the people that awaited
her in "America" that he postponed deci-
sion upon their residence until Margaret
should be able to look about a little, and
until she had also had some experience of
the country. He had no family ties, no
home attachments. His father and mother
were not living; a brother he had never
had; and his surviving sister had been long
252
THE FATE OF
separated from him by marriage into quite
another society than his. Over the site
of his father's house, straight across the
hearthstone, a railway passed; and over
not a few acres of the fields and meadows
of the old homestead stretched part of an
enormous mill-pond, or water-power as it
was called, which drove half a dozen seeth-
ing factories. His lot in this respect resem-
bled in some degree that of many a New
England man who was born and brought
up in the home of his fathers forty years
ago. This being his condition, he had lived
his bachelor life, since his prosperity, in a
handsome suit of apartments, where how-
ever, because the rest of the house was oc-
cupied altogether by bachelors like himself,
and because of the lack of proper kitchen
provision, he could not take Margaret, even
for the short and intermediate time during
which they needed such accommodation.
Thus situated, they were as free to choose
where their home should be as newly-paired
birds to choose the nook for their nest
always understood that, as the nest must
be in a place suited to the habits of the
bird, their new home must be in or near
Boston.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
253
With the three-hilled city Margaret was
greatly pleased. Its picturesque and eye-
soothing irregularity of surface and of
streets; the variety in style of its houses,
and their sober home-like look; the evi-
dently mature and mellowing age of some
of them; the comparatively unobtrusive ex-
terior of the shops, a superior air of clean-
liness, quiet, order, and decorum in the place,
the very stones of which seemed conscious
of respectability; the rarity of Irish faces
and voices, and the almost entire absence of
Germans within her range of observation —
these were a few of its advantages over New
York in the eyes of the young English-
woman. Commonwealth Avenue, with its
breadth, its verdure, and its varied domes-
tic architecture, upon which their windows.
looked, she thought the most beautiful
street she had ever seen, not excepting any
part of London around Hyde Park, nor any
in Oxford. "It looks so like a street for
gentlemen to live in," she said to Hum-
phreys; "elegant, yet unpretending and
home-like, and not as if it was made yes-
terday, like that staring Fifth Avenue."
"Both are new enough; and, alas for
254
THE FATE OF
your sagacity, my wise woman of Brentford,
Fifth Avenue is the older.'
"So much the worse for Fifth Avenue.
The street may be, but the families that
live in it are n't, I'm sure. The shell is
mostly suited to the animal within." But
Margaret's great delight was the Common.
To this she led Humphreys' steps whenever
they went out together; into this she wan-
dered alone sometimes, when he was from
her. "This," she said, "is something like
a park; although indeed it's not a very
large sort of place. But one feels at rest
and at home in it. And what beautiful
trees! I did n't know you had such hand-
some trees in America. This place, too,
looks as if it was not made, but as if it had
grown."
"Reason: so it has. It's almost as old as
Hyde Park."
"And the people here, too, seem to be-
long to it. Well might you say I was com-
ing into another kingdom. It truly seems
in most respects another country; unless
it is that the people here speak English,
too; but so many of them with a strange,
hard, thin tone of voice that I don't like, and
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
255
that's the worst thing I've found in Bos-
ton.'
""
"You mean, I suppose, the nasal twang,
which you wrongly call American. It is in-
deed an unlovely sound; but I have heard
it in its unloveliest intonation from British
lips."
"No; not that. I'm surprised to find
how many people here are entirely without
that; but among them there are so many
who speak, although correctly, in that hard
monotone, and so stiffly too, as if they were
half educated and were painfully reading
out of a book! Why are n't they a little
more at ease?
They should be: they 're
speaking their mother tongue."
"Simply because they are n't at ease.
They who speak that way are, most of them,
people of a sort who in England would have
the speech and the manners of your farmer
class, or your lower middle class in town.
But these people, although they 're no better
than those, have all been to public school,
and are strong on grammar and dictionary;
and those whom you see have got on, and
feel that they must be very careful about
their speech. But these are only in part
the reasons of what so offends your ears."
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THE FATE OF
"What! Do they like to speak so? Do
they try to talk in that half precise, half
slovenly way, emphasizing every other
word? I like the Marlshire farmers' and
even the ploughboys' speech better."
“Yes; I see what you mean. But, my
lady, it's all very fine for you, who speak
just as you look, to rejoice in the coarse,
rumbling contrast of your head - bobbing
farmers' and grateful cottagers' inflections;
but as to these people that so offend your
dainty ears
"Yours, too, Mr. Hypocrite."
"how do you suppose they feel about
the matter? How do you think they would
like to be put back into the speech, say, for
example, of the good fellow who brought
Jack Surcingle with his dog-cart that day
to us in the park? For, after all, that 's the
prime question, how would they feel
about it?
""
"You don't mean to say that they would
set themselves up
""
"Set themselves up, my grande dame!
They 're sot up already. Every one of them,
these city-living people with the good
clothes on thinks that he or she is as good
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
257
as the Earl or the Countess of Toppingham;
although they may not be so rich and have
no title.'
""
“O dear!”
"At the same time I must admit that
they would run after my lord and my lady,
and, without any real deference, kow-tow
to them, and mob them half to death with
what they call social attention.'
“O dear, dear! That's worse yet.
That's vulgar; which the farmers and the
ploughboys are not.”
"I'm not sure, my little woman, that vul-
garity is not the first step in social improve-
ment."
"But I do dislike half-bred people so
much; so much more than those who make
no pretense to be fine."
"That's because they suggest to you
low-bred people that have climbed half way
up to your social level. Because they are
not what you are, you resent their attempt
to resemble you. You 're like some exqui-
site friends of mine in England whom I
heard declare they would rather travel
third-class than second-class: the people
were n't half so disagreeable."
17
258
THE FATE OF
With all her liking for Boston, however
- where the street railways were almost her
only cause of offense - Margaret would not
have chosen to live there. Her idea of home
could not connect itself with paving-stones,
omnibuses, and streams of people passing
the door. She did not like to look from
her own windows across into her neighbors'.
Green fields, trees, country roads, lanes, the
open sky, these, and daily walks among
them, were a part of her idea of home life;
and she would have chosen Old Cambridge.
But when she found that, if their home was
there, Humphreys would be obliged to ride
daily back and forth "shut up for three
quarters of an hour in one of those dread-
ful cars with all those queer people," she
would not hear of it. She thought it was
strange that with his income, and as he had
told her of his intention to give her a
modest carriage, he should not drive into
Boston with his own horse; and she said so;
not knowing that she had thus touched
one of the distinctive differences in habit
of life between Old England and New Eng-
land.
66
Why, Margaret," was the reply, "either
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
259
my man and my horse would be obliged to
stop in Boston all day, the horse at a livery
stable, or both to go back and then come in
again for me; and that, with the care of the
wagon and the grooming of the horse, would
take, to all intents and purposes, the whole
time of both; just to drive me to and from
my office."
"And why not?"
We waste money
"It is n't our way.
and food, and are prodigal in clothes; but
we don't waste the time of men or of horses,
even when we don't know what to do with
it when it's saved. The getting quickly
and cheaply from one place to another has
come to be an invisible fetish among us,
which we worship under the awful title
'rapid transit.'
Margaret cheerfully gave up her rural
preferences, and they obtained a pretty
house on the broad, turfed, tree - shaded
street which she admired. Here they soon
settled down; and the addition to the new
furniture of that from Humphreys' old
apartments, many pieces of which had be-
longed to his father and his grandfather,
so tempered the novelty of their situation,
260
THE FATE OF
:
that they soon began to feel as if they were
in an old home.
One day not long after their settlement,
Margaret's womanly eyes were specially de-
lighted by the appearance of a box, which,
when Humphreys opened it in her pres-
ence, was found to contain a beautiful set
of old translucent china, with a cipher in
gilt on every piece.
"Something you've bought for me, you
dear extravagant fellow, at that bric-à-brac
shop in Tremont Street.”
66
my
Something, Margery, that was
grandmother's. That is her maiden cipher.
It was a wedding present, and was made
for her in Europe.
""
"Your grandmother's! But I did n't know
- ask pardon, sir" (dropping a curtsey) -
"that Americans had things like that in
the time of your grandmother.”
""
“And there are many other things that
you don't know, Miss critic in petticoats.
Then soberly: "Of course, Margery, such
a set of china, trifle as it would seem to
your cousin, was a more important article in
my grandfather's house, than it would have
been in Toppington Priory at the same
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
261
time; and so was an old spider-legged piano-
forte, with a purfled case, that tinkled un-
der my grand-aunt's fingers, and which we 'll
have just because it makes a pretty show;
and we'll have, of our own, in this and my
other traps, what people in Fifth Avenue
go to Sypher's to buy. But we did have
these things, and we knew how to use
them; which I can't say for all of the rich
people and their fine things that I've seen
in England. Could you?"
"I believe," with a look of quiet surprise,
"that all of our friends behave as if they
were used to their position and their sur-
roundings.
"Yes, Margery, you're right. I can't
deny that you are, or were, safely entrenched
within the defenses of your social order."
Two years passed, during which, it need
hardly be said, Margaret saw all that she
wished to see of society in and about her
new home. The "best people" in Boston,
in Old Cambridge, Brookline, and Dorchester
Heights would have been pleased to receive
Mansfield Humphreys' wife, even if she
were not the beautiful, accomplished, and
happily born woman that she was. A sum-
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THE FATE OF
mer at Newport, where Humphreys was able
to get a handsome furnished cottage for the
season, gayly completed her acquaintance
with "American society." But this part
of her experience pleased her less than
any other. At first, the soft air, the bath-
ing, the novel forms of pleasure, the pretty
social panorama, and the many-hued and
many-formed beauties of the sea, over which,
as she sat in sweet silence on some rock, she
looked toward England, made her happy.
But ere long the glitter and the glare of it
all, the petty little social turmoil that con-
stantly went on, and the exceeding thinness
of the French polish, except in a few spots,
began to be offensive. It seemed to her
that most of the women there lived but to
make three expensive toilettes a day, and
to display them. As for the men, they
soon resolved themselves, for her, into two
classes: hard-headed, but fine dressed, mid-
dle-aged business men, without any knowl-
edge but that of business and party poli-
tics, who came to Newport to eat and
drink and smoke in silence; and young men
who were weak copies of Jack Surcingle,
without his manly, kindly nature, for the
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
263
absence of which she was not compensated
by the presence of the r's that were beyond
the Captain's lingual powers. Therefore,
although she did not withdraw herself en-
tirely from the social circles of the great
New York summer resort in New England,
she was more and more, and chiefly during
Humphreys' occasional absence, by herself;
and wandered off alone or with her maid
in the morning, walking by the water-side,
or sitting upon the russet rocks, looking
upon the ever-changing sea, and sighing her
heart toward the fair, cloud-coped isle that
was the home of her childhood.
The people whom Margaret saw in soci-
ety were of course chiefly New England
folk of long-established social position, and
such others from New York and elsewhere
as came naturally within that circle. But
Humphreys' business and semi-political po-
sition as a railway lawyer and director
brought her in contact with persons who
she quickly perceived were of quite another
sort. Humphreys would once in a while
bring home, or welcome there, and ask her
to show some attention to, men, who, when
they were gone, she would say in her heart,
264
THE FATE OF
if not with her lips, were "queer," or "not
nice." Once she broke out when Hum-
phreys returned from accompanying one of
his guests to the station. "Do tell me,
Mansfield, why you were so civil to that
great, coarse, bull-necked Colonel Water-
stock. Is he in your army?"
66
No," with a smile: "if all our colonels
were in the service of the United States, we
should need no privates to make a standing
army."
"I'm glad of it. He looked in his fine
clothes like our old English sign The Hog
in Armor.' How he ate!"
"Why, Mistress Prim, did he put his
knife into his mouth, or into the butter?"
"No, I think not; but you know it is n't
necessary for a person to do either to be
disagreeable at table. I did n't like to look
at him. And such a tone of voice, and such
English! Did you hear him? I seen the
President las' Thu'sday.'
'I were goan
along on the Avenue.' 'He done it.' I don't
believe there's nothin' more to it.' What
is such a man doing at your table, with
your wife?"
"My most exquisite dame, did you never
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
265
see men with rustic airs and speech in your
gentlemen's houses in England? I have."
"That's not what I mean; not at all;
nothing of the sort. A man may be pro-
vincial, very rustic in speech and manner,
and yet not be at all vulgar. He may speak
with a burr in his voice that would hold a
chestnut, and yet his English be respecta-
ble and even pleasant, although not elegant.
But this creature!"
"Verily, thou art a schoolmistress and
a mistress of ceremonies rolled into one."
"Nonsense, Mansfield, did n't I see it in
your eye that you winced at table half a
dozen times?"
"None the less, ma'am, Colonel Water-
stock is a man of importance to me and to
others. He is now president and chief
controller of the Great South Western Rail-
way; he is worth eight or ten millions of
dollars; he carries the legislatures of two
States in his breeches pocket; he could be
governor of either, and probably will be of
one, and afterwards senator of the United
States."
"This is worse and worse. Is that the
sort of man of which you make governors
and senators?"
266
THE FATE OF
"Yes, I'm sorry to say it is; and more
and more so every year. Our fathers and
grandfathers chose men of culture and char-
acter; men who would as soon have thought
of bribing an apostle or an archangel as a
legislator. But breaking away, and be-
ginning to walk the floor, "what matter!
The country is more prosperous now than
it was then; richer at home, stronger abroad.
Colonel Waterstock is a masterly manager;
he ensures success; and as to education, he
knows now more about Europe and its affairs
than your clever and cultivated Lord Top-
pingham will ever know about America;
and what matter about such unessential
points as his mere manners or his way of
speaking English?”
“Or his character ?" said Margaret; and
fixing his eye and looking steadily into it,
she asked, "Are you Mansfield Humphreys
or Mr. Washington Adams?" She con-
tinued her steady gaze until Humphreys, to
conceal the confusion of his face, was obliged
to turn away and go to the window.
There was more in the civility to Colonel
Waterstock than Margaret supposed, even
after this little discussion of that very capa-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
267
ble gentleman's character. Two years and
more had now passed since her marriage
and arrival at Boston; years in which were
mingled a happiness in Humphreys and his
love beyond even what she had hoped for,
with a disappointment in her surroundings
and with herself because of her inability to
adapt herself to them. With Humphreys
she lived in the serene enjoyment of the love.
of a man whom it seemed heaven had made
for her; in the society of a few of his friends.
she found great pleasure. But after the
novelty of what she saw for the first time.
had passed, the general society of "Amer-
ica" lost its interest; it palled upon her; it
seemed tame and bare and cold and barren ;
without character, without variety, without
purpose, without meaning. It appeared to
be an inorganic assemblage of homogeneous
individuals, without relations or mutual re-
sponsibilities. She felt the absence of any
social motive power other than a love of
display. It was more and more to her, day
by day, oppressively blank and cheerless.
Nor could she find occupation or amusement
for herself when alone, except in her books,
her music, and her household; as a part of
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THE FATE OF
which no child had yet appeared. Her
family cares were therefore as nothing to the
well-trained young English woman, vexed as
she was at times at the want of training in
the best servants she could get.
Her schemes of walking in and about Old
Cambridge failed utterly. After enduring
her unpleasant trip there in the cars a few
times in various seasons, she found that she
could not walk as she could in England. In
summer the intense heat, and in winter the
equally intense cold, the snow, the slush,
the bottomless mud of the roads, made
walking quite impossible; and greatest
lack of all in this respect, spring there
was none; absolutely none. No sweet ver-
nal softness stealing upon all the senses and
filling the eye with the brightness, the ear
with the music, and the nostril with the
perfume of hope and promise. She shud-
dered through what her friends and neigh-
bors called spring. Moderate cold or even
moderate rain would not have kept the
young Englishwoman within doors; but
within doors she remained during most of
this season; kept there by the cutting
winds, the severity of which she felt more
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
269
when they were dry than when they were
damp. She was obliged to confine her air-
ings either to walks in the Common, or to
drives in her victoria.
Besides these and other like disappoint-
ments, she had found herself during the
last six or nine months deprived more and
more of her husband's company. He went
to New York often, being away a day and
two nights, or three days, and he returned
sometimes jaded and depressed, although
at others notably gay and light-hearted.
Telegrams came to him frequently, which
he would stare at silently and then destroy.
Margaret was relieved from the torment of
that beginning of jealousy, the suspicion
that her husband was sated with her beauty
and weary of her love. He was her lover
still, though with a husband's mastery and
freedom. How she delighted in him when
he teased her fondly, and called her sweet
abusive names ! All the more, however,
did she muse and mourn over a moodiness
which had come upon him, out of which she
could sometimes wile him, but which she
could never win him to explain. He put
her off almost curtly, although kindly, say-
ing he would be all right soon again.
270
THE FATE OF
X.
AN AMERICAN END OF AN AMERICAN
FORTUNE.
:
THE truth was that Humphreys had in-
volved himself in perilous speculation. He
had done this not from any gambling or
speculative propensity; not even from a
desire to increase his possessions for he
was of a contented disposition, and felt that
he had enough. His motive was the keep-
ing of that enough. During the time when
he was in England courting and marrying
Margaret, although it was not more than
three months, a project long hatched had
been matured and set on foot, with all nec-
essary legislative aid, for a railway which
would unite the principal points touched
by that of which Humphreys was counsel,
shareholder, and director, with a saving of
fifty miles and also with a connection which
stretched into the limitless space of the
West. Had Humphreys been at home when
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
271
the bill chartering this company and giv-
ing it land and privileges was passed, he
might have protected his interests at least
by becoming one of the new corporation;
but, when he returned, the stock was all in
the hands of holders who were awaiting the
watering, the second-bond-issuing, and the
various other processes by which railways
are made profitable to their projectors.
Humphreys' railway suffered a depreciation
corresponding to the high estimate of the
new route; and indeed it was seen that the
old one must needs be abandoned as a main
line, and reduce its business to that of way
travel in a poor country. Humphreys thus
saw his principal source of income about
to fail him within a little more than a year
after his marriage. Until the new line was
laid that income was safe; but the man-
agers of the new company were energetic,
pushing men, who were sure to get some
miles of their line in running order soon;
and at the stock board Humphreys' line
went down into the depths.
His sudden loss, or prospective loss, must
be as suddenly repaired. For himself he
cared not much; he could live happily on
Į
272
THE FATE OF
But Margaret!
very little.
when he
thought of her his heart seemed filled with
hot lead. And to his grief was added shame.
He remembered Lord Toppingham's remark
upon the instability of his position, and Lady
Toppingham's almost satirical declaration
that Margaret's little income rested upon a
surer basis than all his thousands. Mar-
garet must not know his position, the Top-
pinghams must not suspect it. He must re-
cover himself quickly and secretly; and he
did not doubt that his experience and his
acknowledged ability would enable him.
thus to attain his end. He went boldly
into speculation, putting all that he had
at risk; for doubt did not enter his mind.
He looked upon his reinstatement as confi-
dently as a strong young man looks for his
recovery from an attack of illness. But
alas! as the strong young man is sometimes
deceived, so was he. The ability that served
him as a railway lawyer and manager of
legislators and the public did not serve him
in Wall Street; or luck, which has very
much more to do with pecuniary success
than some moralizing wiseacres would have
us believe, was against him; and to his sur-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
273
prise as much as to his sorrow he did not at
once realize his expectations. Everything
did not fail; he was not ruined; but he be-
came involved in a tangled train of financial
affairs, some sound, some speculative, yet all
depending more or less upon each other;
and even his high-hearted hope could not
blind him to the possibility of ruin, absolute
and utter.
It was in this stage of his affairs that he
had become acquainted in the way of busi-
ness with Colonel Waterstock, a bold and
unscrupulous financial and political adven-
turer, whose hardihood of mind and of body
had carried him safely through straits and
struggles that would have crushed a nature
less tough and brutal, but which made him
tougher and more brutal, and had placed
him in the position which Humphreys had
described to Margaret.
Colonel Waterstock, if he had chosen to
do so, could have put Humphreys in the
way of recovering surely all that he had lost,
and more. He saw Humphreys' ability as
a lawyer and a manager, and he wished to
use him; but his selfish, grasping soul for-
bade him to deal generously with any one.
18
274
THE FATE OF
He clutched his millions, and his chances
for other millions, more eagerly than many
a poor man does his hundreds; and his
purpose was to make Humphreys his slave,
and also to make their business acquain-
tance a means of entering the reserved so-
cial circle to which Humphreys belonged.
Hence a coarse broad hint from him that
he would like to talk certain affairs over
with Humphreys when he was quite at ease
and at perfect leisure; and hence the invi-
tation which, under the pressure of circum-
stances, Humphreys felt that he could not
afford to neglect to give.
It was when affairs were in this condition
that Margaret saw a prospect, although
more than half a year distant, that she
should have the child in her arms which
she had looked and hoped to have before,
an announcement which under other cir-
cumstances would have filled Humphreys'
heart with unmingled joy, but which now
added to his perplexity. Not that he yet
feared want for his wife and his child; but
in her present condition what might not be
the consequences to her of a severe finan-
cial catastrophe to him!
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
275
Colonel Waterstock found in Humphreys'
house more than he had promised himself.
He had heard, by the uncertain, exaggerat-
ing voice of rumor, that Humphreys' wife
was of a noble family; which was one great
reason of his desire to know her; and he
was at first disappointed when he found
that she was not "my Lady." But, as he
looked at her, the woman soon made him for-
get all this. Her beauty took him captive;
and, coarse and brutal as he was, her grace
and charm of manner, little as she wasted
them on him, enhanced the power of her
beauty over his intoxicated senses. She
had yet another attraction for him.
musical organization which nature to sen-
timental judgment the most capriciously
inconsistent and cruelly despotic of powers
The
had denied to the sweet and noble soul
of the Earl of Toppingham, she had be-
stowed largely upon this bold, sordid, sen-
sual man; who, incapable of a pure thought
or an elevated sentiment, insensible to the
charms of poetry or of any literature except
the writings of Dickens and certain "Amer-
ican" humorists, thrilled to the innermost
fibres of his being when the music of great
276
THE FATE OF
masters crept into his ears.
For his musi-
cal taste was elevated he was a patron not
only of the Opera, but of the Philharmonic
and the Symphony societies. Margaret at
her piano-forte, playing Mozart and Chopin
and Beethoven, made complete and absolute
the unconscious conquest won by her beauty
and her grace. Colonel Waterstock came
to the house again and again, sometimes
by invitation, at others uninvited, until at
last he established himself there upon a
footing of somewhat more than mere ac-
quaintance; and Margaret, for her husband's
sake, was attentive to his wishes and careful
to please him, although she revolted from
him personally so much that she never gave
him her hand without the consciousness that
she ought not to withhold it, and if he sat
upon the same sofa with her, always shrank
to the farther end.
About this time the young wife and pro-
spective mother was gladdened by the re-
ceipt of a letter from her cousin, saying
that Lord Toppingham intended a visit to
America, and would leave England by the
steamer of a certain date. Neither she nor
Humphreys cared to mention this news to
Colonel Waterstock.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
277
The speculations in which Humphreys
had embarked all his means, and even his
credit, proved on the whole and in the long
run unfortunate. Now and then he profited,
and was encouraged to go on; but losses
were more frequent and greater than gains;
and although the waters of his fate rose
now and then above a mark to which they
had fallen, when they retired again it was
to a lower level than before. Colonel
Waterstock had now and then put "a good
thing" in his way, but it was always a com-
paratively small thing. The Colonel wanted
for himself all the good chances that were
on the cards; and his position and his great.
command of money enabled him always to
avail himself of any that were presented.
His wealth was becoming larger month by
month and week by week, almost day by
day; while Humphreys could no longer
shut his eyes to the certainty of ruin,—
ruin so absolute that it would leave him
without a dollar and with a very considera-
ble debt.
In his extremity he decided that he would
endeavor to push his fortunes with the Colo-
nel more than he had yet done. He went
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THE FATE OF
to the great financier and politician, and
offering to give himself with all the ability
and energy he possessed to the affairs of the
Great South Western Railway, asked only
what he had received in former years, un-
der somewhat similar circumstances, shares
and chances of profit. The Colonel re-
ceived his proposal with seeming favor, and
revealed to him a project by which the value
of certain shares would surely be doubled
and probably trebled in a few months; and
of these he expressed himself willing to
assign to Humphreys two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars' worth if he would pay
the cash for them by a certain date, some
months ahead. "Happy to make the terms
more 'commodatin' ef I could, Mr. Hum-
phreys," he said, "but business is business,
and fuss-rate men stan' ready to take th' hull
on th' same terms." Now Colonel Water-
stock knew Humphreys' affairs almost as
well as he knew them himself, and did not
need to be told that there was small chance
of his having such a sum of money at com-
mand by the time specified. Humphreys,
however, was silent, and left his considerate
friend with thanks for his "kind offer."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
279
He felt that he could no longer conceal
his situation from Margaret; and after din-
ner on the day of his interview with the
Colonel, he told her with a bitter calmness
that cut her to the heart the whole sad story.
When he began his confession he sat apart
from her upon a broad easy couch in the
little book-lined parlor off the drawing-room
where they often passed happy hours to-
gether. As he went on she came close to
him and put her arms about his neck, look-
ing wistfully into his eyes, but with no word
of surprise or sorrow. When he finished and
said, "And now Margery, my poor girl, I
shall soon have nothing for you, nothing,"
she drew his head down upon her breast,
and holding him as a mother holds her child,
she kissed his forehead gently and often,
murmuring "my poor darling, my poor
darling." Then at last Humphreys broke
down; two great tears burst from his eyes,
and with a smothered sob he hid his face
upon her shoulder, as a woman overwhelmed
with emotion hides hers upon a man's.
“And is there no way out of it?" she
asked after a long silence, "no help at all?"
"Oh yes, my excellent friend, Colonel
280
THE FATE OF
Waterstock, shows me a way to fortune on
the payment of two hundred and fifty thou-
sand dollars."
"The selfish wretch! and after his com-
ing here so often!"
"Reason, Margery, reason! Only the sel-
fishness of business. Why should he give
me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars'
worth of shares, with a chance of making
five hundred thousand or a million on any
other terms than those on which other men
would be glad to get them?”
"And he with more money than he knows
what to do with!
"I never yet saw a man who thought him-
self in that condition. But what matter?
the conditions are impossible, and there is an
end. Don't be too troubled, though; we
shan't want. I can always command enough
for comfort; and with that we need not
quite bid farewell to happiness, need we?”
Humphreys' lip quivered as, with an at-
tempt at cheerfulness of tone, he asked this
question.
"Farewell to happiness! when I have
you, and you have me, and we are both
well and strong! Why, are you the faint
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
281
heart that did win fair lady? Look at me,
darling;" and she stood before him at her
full height, gazing into his face, sweetly
blushing, and with a charming proud con-
fusion, conscious of his love, conscious, too,
of her beauty and of her firm health of
mind and body, over which, so perfect was
she in her womanhood, coming events had
cast no shadow. Then, dropping on her
knees, she laid her arms and head upon his
knee, and said, as if she were a little child,
"You forget: I have my money."
"Your money; why, Margery, forgive
me, but what can you mean? One hun-
dred and fifty pounds! Seven hundred and
fifty dollars!"
"Yes, I know it's very little to a man
who has had your fortune. But one hun-
dred and fifty pounds in England is very
much more than seven hundred and fifty
dollars in America. Nearly twice as much.
I found that out long ago. A dollar does
n't go so far here as half a crown does at
home, even in London. And we might go
home, and we should be so happy!"
"Home, Margery! What home? What
can you mean ?”
282
THE FATE OF
"Home to Toppington, of course. You'd
have no rent to pay; for my good guardy
would only be too glad to let us have dear
Maple Grange again, where we were so
happy; don't you remember, darling? No
one uses it; and we might better live in
it than not; and then we should have the
hundred and fifty pounds all to ourselves.
And I should want no dresses; for, what with
you and guardy and cousin Kate, I've fine
gowns and things of all sorts now enough to
last me half my life; and if I had n't I could
live with you at Maple Grange on one stuff
gown a year and eat porridge and milk, and
be as happy as a queen; happier than any
queen I ever read of. Besides, you would
surely soon be in a way to add largely to
your income and ere long to reëstablish
yourself entirely."
" But'
""
"Be quiet, Mr. Faint-heart, and hear me
out!"
"What more ? "
"I should be happier then, if you could
be happy, than I ever was here or ever
could be, with all the money you have lost.
For now I'll tell you, dear, what I've never
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
283
that
said before, nor shown-have I?
I've never been quite contented here or
happy, except in you, except in you.
Life here is not what it is in England. It
is n't the people; that is, your people, the
friends you have brought around me in New
York and Boston. There could not be kind-
lier, better-bred, or more intelligent men or
women than they ; quite, too, like our friends
at home, or with so little difference that it's
not to be thought of in a reckoning of hap-
piness. It's the country, and the circum-
stances in which these people live, and are
obliged to live. It's the form of your soci-
ety, more than its substance. To tell you
the truth your friends, the people in your
society have the manners and the tastes of
the people in mine at home, while their
surroundings and their modes of life are
necessarily like those of our city-bred mid-
dle classes. The incongruity strikes me
constantly. And it is n't helped by money.
The vulgarest people that I've seen among
you have been the wealthiest; and those
who were most like people of rank and
breeding had, many of them, very little
money; and among those who had the tru-
284
THE FATE OF
est refinement of taste and manner I found
that most had never been to Europe. - Be-
sides, poor as I was, I could help people at
home. I miss my old women and my young
mothers, and the Toppington boys. There's
no one here one can be helpful to, unless
through some sort of benevolent machine."
"We have no dependents in this country;
although there's poverty enough among
the foreigners in the cities."
"So much the worse for you that are
without them. You have no relations with
each other but those of business. Except
in the way of business you know nothing
of each other outside of your own little sets.
Society here has no bonds,"
"Bonds fret as well as bind.”
"you are unrelated individuals, like a
mass of pebbles; the small ones sinking to
the bottom, and leaving the great ones at
the top, and no cement to bind any one to
any other. I have n't felt like myself since
I have been here. I felt more like a gen-
tlewoman when I was at home, almost a
dependent. I should feel more like a gentle-
woman at dear Maple Grange with only
a maid of all work than I have felt in this
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
285
fine house amid all the luxuries with which
you have surrounded me; and yet where I
was obliged to receive such people as Col-
onel Waterstock and to meet them else-
where."
66
Margery, you know now why I asked
him and begged you to be civil to him."
"I know that what I have said sounds
like a reproach; but I know too, well
enough, that you won't believe that I would
reproach you, and now, dear, of all times.
You could not help it: could not have
helped it under other circumstances. Your
society is so constructed, or unconstructed,
that you can't keep the Waterstocks out.
In New York the Waterstocks are becom-
ing society. And you, too: you feel all
this; I know and have seen that you do.
You would be happier in England than
here. Tell me, now, apart from personal
friendships, would not the society at the
Priory please you better than that which
you see here,
most of it, I mean? "
"Frankly, it would."
"I did not need the telling. So it would
your personal friends. People of your cir-
cle of society easily adapt themselves to us;
286
THE FATE OF
so easily, especially the women, that they
seem born to it; but we cannot adapt our-
selves easily to your social conditions how-
ever we may like you, or however unexcep-
tionable we may regard you personally in all
respects. People like you and your friends.
appear to us out of place in the conditions
in which we find you. I have felt out of
place here altogether, and never wholly at
home or at my ease but when our doors
were shut and I was alone with you. If
we are to be poor, then, let us go home and
be happy and poor in our proper places. I
would rather live with you in England on
five hundred pounds a year than in Amer-
ica on fifty thousand dollars."
You don't
Even if your income
such a thing to be
"Margery, you are mad.
know what you ask.
were sufficient for
thought of, — I to go
to England and live
with my wife partly as a dependent on Lord
Toppingham!"
"Be as proud as you please yourself, and
get what money you like for yourself; but
why should n't my guardian give me a
house to live in, if he has one to spare, and
is willing, especially if he's no other use to
put it to? It's all in the family."
銮
​MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
287
"I know. You recognize such claims as
a matter of course, and accept such favors
without any painful sense of obligation."
"Indeed we do. But here one brother
may be living splendidly in what your
newspapers call circles of fashion, while
another remains with straitened means
among rude people in some remote nook or
corner. Which is the better way, yours
or ours?"
66
My sweet she-philosopher, we're get-
ting into deep water. Better confine our-
selves to our own personal problem. It's
quite enough for us at present."
288
THE FATE OF
XI.
COLONEL WATERSTOCK.
A FEW mornings after Humphreys had
told his sad story to his wife, and when he
was absent on one of his brief visits to New
York, Margaret was in her dressing-room
with her own maid Hedwig, a tall blonde
Scandinavian, with strong white arms, yet
Paris-bred and with a touch like a feather ;
a girl devoted to her dark-eyed mistress,
whose constant attendant she had been for
two years. A knock at the door, and Hed-
wig, with a look in her face which her
mistress's love and confidence permitted,
brought Colonel Waterstock's card. At
this Margaret was somewhat surprised, as
the colonel had never before visited the
house in her husband's absence, and she
knew that he was aware of Humphreys'
visit to New York, and indeed had brought
it about by a suggestion which promised to
be advantageous. She would have been
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
289
glad to deny herself; but she went down to
the drawing-room and received him courte-
ously, as she had done before; and as before,
and for the same reason, was as gracious as
she could be by self-compulsion. Her vis-
itor, who was always notably well-dressed, so
far at least as rich garments of conventional
correctness and of striking newness could
make him so, was on this occasion even
more than usually remarkable as to his
apparel. His heavily bound morning coat
was so redolent of newness that it suggested
the smell of the tailor's goose. The button-
holes looked as if they had never been but-
toned before, and as if now they could never
be unbuttoned again. His shiny satin scarf
was fastened by a costly diamond pin; his
boots produced such an impression of black-
ness and brightness that it seemed as if they
must have been blackened and polished on
the very soles; and that he had just come
from the hands of his barber was testified
not only by the exquisite condition of his
hair, but by a mingled odor of bay-rum
and musk that almost made Margaret sick.
His round, ruddy, hard-fleshed face sat com-
placently above his two hundred pounds of
19
290
THE FATE OF
body. Of his admiration he was more than
usually demonstrative, and beamed upon
his hostess with such a radiant beneficence
that she conceived a hope that he might
indeed be going to do something handsome
for Humphreys, and she in consequence re-
doubled her graciousness. He asked her to
play, and when she complied he sat en-
tranced, drinking in the intoxication of pas-
sion through eye and ear. He asked her to
sing; and even this she did.
She very
rarely sang ; and only for Humphreys, or
when she was alone. Her singing voice, as
sometimes happens with those whose speak-
ing voices are rich and full, was so deficient
in power and in compass that it failed en-
tirely to meet the demands of her musical
taste, and she therefore had very early given
up all study of vocalization and never sang
in society. But within its range her voice
was perfect, though weak, and of a pene-
trating vibration and touching quality that
pierced the very souls of those with whom
she was in musical sympathy; and among
these was Colonel Waterstock. Moreover
she was rarely fortunate, in that singing en-
hanced rather than diminished or disturbed
the beauty of her face.
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
291
When she ceased the colonel exclaimed
"You done that beautiful! You sing like
an angel, like a divinity." Margaret smiled;
for she knew that the spell of her singing
lay in the most human and womanly of her
emotions. The smile tempted and excited
the enamored colonel, who began to show
his admiration in so pronounced a manner
that it was irksome to her, and erelong be-
came offensive. To a woman who has herself
a large capacity of love, there is no experi-
ence more distasteful than the manifestation
of strong personal admiration from a man
with whom she is not in personal sympathy.
Margaret directly changed the subject of
conversation, but Colonel Waterstock with
a boisterously gallant air exclaimed, “ Öh, I
ain't to be put off so; be sure o' that; an'
you don't mean it; I guess not ;
guess not;" and im-
mediately launched into a declaration of his
passion.
Margaret sat a moment, silent and mo-
tionless in her resentment; and then, rising,
said calmly, "Colonel Waterstock, you visit
this house on the invitation of my husband,
and have been received at his request. If
you leave it now immediately and never en-
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THE FATE OF
ter it again but in his presence, I shall keep
what you have just said to myself."
But the great financier and politician had
taken an extra cocktail that morning, prefa-
tory to his visit. On his strong, well-sea-
soned stomach and tough brain its only
effect was to increase his natural boldness;
and now, excited both with spirit and pas-
sion, he pushed on, and, accustomed to suc-
cess and to win it in one way, he said,
"Don't be foolish now. You an' I kin un-
de'stan' each other, easy. Treat me kin❜ly
and I'll set ye all up square; fix it fur him
so's he'll git jess wot he's after, and you
kin live 'n fuss-rate style, finer style 'n
ever. 'R if ye like, I don't mind marryin'
ye out an' out. Easy'nough to git a di-vorce
with jess a leetle waitin', an' you'll be the
wife of a man wuth twenty millions, twenty
millions, you may bet yer sweet life o' that;
an' the wife of a gov'ner, 'n of a Senator.
Wot more could I say? Wot more could
you expect? I mean business."
66
Sir, I am the loved and honored wife
of a man whose meanest servant you are
not fit to be; and I would rather live with
him, or if I was not his, with any gentle-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
293
man in a garret, than be yours if your
twenty millions were hundreds.”
"Servant! Gentleman!" blustered the
colonel, furious at the derogation which is
always most resented by the free and inde-
pendent American democrat; "gentleman!
I sh'd like to know whar you'd fine a bet-
ter gentleman 'n I am 'n all America, or 'n
England either?"
Margaret, vexed with herself at having
been provoked by his insult to a retort, now
stood pale and speechless; but, with stony
eyes, she pointed to the door. He did not
move, unless a little nearer, and began
"Nonsense, my dear lady'
""
She would have left the room without an-
other word, but she saw that as he stood his
strong bulk was between her and the door.
"Stand aside, sir," she cried, stepping for-
ward with a look and a gesture that would
have sobered any man who was fit to look
upon such a woman. But her voice was
feeble and husky with emotion, and it
seemed to her as if some one else had spoken
the words. There was in this man, too, a
certain brutal muscularity of mind as well
as of body, and a vis inertia that had ena-
294
THE FATE OF
bled him to carry his point many times be-
fore by mere immovability; and he stood
still.
Margaret stepped boldly, though with a
trembling heart, toward the bell. He threw
himself, with his blue eyes aflame, before
her, exclaiming "You idjot! stan' in yer
own light like a fool if you will; but if you
make any noise 'bout this you 'll repent it.
I'll roon you and your beggar of a husband."
The threat stung Margaret like harts-
horn in her brain. All at once her pallid
face blazed red, and her voice returned to
her. "Hedwig!" she screamed, "Hedwig!"
and sprang for the door. The man was too
late to intercept her: she reached it first,
opened it, and, crying out again, "Hedwig!"
she rushed into the passage, and there, in-
deed, was support unlooked-for; a gentle-
man who, even in her excitement, she in-
stantly recognized - Lord Toppingham.
Margaret was not a fainting woman, but
she fell swooning into the arms of her
guardian; who, struck with amazement at
such a reception, sustained her for a mo-
ment in silence, as he saw a huge middle-
aged man dash by them and down the stairs
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
295
and out of the house. Then he laid Mar-
garet upon the couch in the drawing-room,
where a few minutes' attention from her
maid with restoratives brought her to con-
sciousness, and to the capability of a very
brief explanation to her guardian, her joy
in the sight of whom was so touching that
it almost unmanned him. He would have
had her carried to her room and to bed;
but she would not hear of it, and asking for
her dressing-gown and a down quilt, after
taking a little sal volatile she was able to
sit with Lord Toppingham's hand in hers
and hear his explanation of his unexpected
and most opportune appearance.
This was
very brief: it being merely that circum-
stances had arisen (which he did not set
forth) which made it desirable that he
should leave England sooner than he had
intended, and that he had in his inexperi-
ence of trans-Atlantic travel not thought
of announcing his anticipation of his time
of departure by ocean telegraph. On his
arrival at New York he had indeed tele-
graphed to Humphreys, but at his office,
and had taken the first train for Boston.
Humphreys was in New York, whence he
296
THE FATE OF
was expected to return at midnight, and the
earl's telegram had not been sent to the
house. Margaret's disturbing interview
with Colonel Waterstock had prevented her
from hearing the carriage which brought
her guardian thither; and as she rushed
to the door he was coming up the stairs
with the servant by whom he had been
admitted.
When Humphreys returned at midnight
he was surprised by the sight of Lord Top-
pingham, who was waiting alone for him.
After a few words of explanation he went to
Margaret's room. She was in bed, whither
exhaustion from the day's events had sent
her; and, notwithstanding her anxiety to
see him, she had fallen asleep, or rather
into a light slumber, in which she started
fitfully from time to time. Hedwig sat by.
her. Silently as Humphreys moved into
the chamber, his mere presence seemed to
exercise an influence upon her, and she was
soon awake with his arms about her. She
told him in full what she had told Lord
Toppingham in part; and they talked long
into the night.
In the morning it was agreed among
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
297
them all, quite as a matter of course, that
nothing was to be said about the matter.
Colonel Waterstock would surely be silent
unless he were provoked into self-defense.
Nothing was to be gained by the revelation
of his base conduct, while much would
thereby be suffered. It was remarkable.
however, that Lord Toppingham was least
reluctant in this respect, and indignantly
declared that "the scoundrel ought to be
exposed and punished," while what Hum-
phreys thought of chiefly was that Marga-
ret's name should not be thus spoken by
the public mouth in connection with that
of such a man as Colonel Waterstock.
knew that, however great may be a wrong,
if it is once made the subject of public dis-
cussion, the wrong will find defenders, es-
pecially if it has been done by a person of
influence. A consciousness of this, too, kept
the colonel calm.
He
Humphreys saw at once that this disa-
greeable incident perfected and precipitated
his ruin. He now understood Colonel Wa-
terstock; and he was sure that the prom-
ised shares would be withheld from him,
even if, under the circumstances, he would
298
THE FATE OF
have accepted them or could have taken
them up. But between him and the suc-
cessful financier and politician all was of
course at an end; and even the minor and
incidental advantages that he might have de-
rived from friendly business relations with
the colonel must, of course, be foregone.
Margaret, who found that she had re-
ceived a nervous shock severer than she had
supposed, kept her room and her bed; and
Humphreys, in the course of the morning,
revealed his position to Lord Toppingham
without reserve. The earl did not utter a
reproach, nor did he even refer to his former
remark upon the lack of stability in Hum-
phreys' position. He only grasped his hand
and said, “I'm awfully sorry, my dear fel-
low." To Humphreys' remark that of course
there was an end of the prospect of shares,
even if he could have taken them up, Lord
Toppingham demurred, saying at once, 66 I
don't see that. Why not take them, since
it seems a sure thing?"
"From that scoundrel, that black-
guard?"
"Scoundrel and blackguard as he is,
what has that to do with the shares in a
railway, if you can get them?"
*
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
299
“But he 'll not let me have them now.”
"On the contrary, now he dare n't re-
fuse."
"But it would be impossible for me to
pay for them."
"H'm, that indeed! How much did you
say? ›
""
"Two hundred and fifty thousand dol-
lars."
66
sum.
""
Fifty thousand pounds; a good round
When was it to be paid?
"In about three months now. But why
do you ask? What matter? Three days.
as well as three months or three years."
Lord Toppingham sat in silence a few
minutes, and then said, "My advice is that
you write a simple business letter to your
Colonel Waterstock, sayin' to him that you
expect to make arrangements to take up the
shares. He'd as soon have your money as
any one's?"
"I suppose so."
"Then he'd rather have your money
with your silence, which a blackguard like
him would think he might buy. Never
mind what he thinks. Why should we let
the blackguards use us when we may use
300
THE FATE OF
them without soilin' our fingers? Write
your letter. You'll find that either he will
write a mere business assent, or say noth-
ing, which under the circumstances is as-
sent. When the time of payment comes,
if you can't pay, or you decide not to take
the shares, he has told you that others stand
ready to do so; some other person will, and
there's an end, and no harm done. If you
can, and if
you decide that you wish to do
so, which, - with a little significance of
look and tone, "it's possible you may
not, why you recover yourself entirely, as
you say."
"And more. But my dear Lord Top-
pingham, I have exhausted my means and
my credit. I could n't raise ten thousand
dollars."
66
My dear Humphreys, between us here,
why will you use the handle to my name?
Twist it off. I'd like it ever so much bet-
ter. I don't mean that you 'my lord' and
lordship' me like an underbred person:
nothin' of the sort. But whenever you do
use my name you take it by the handle.
Now, even the great Falstaff, you know,
although he was 'Sir John to all Europe,'
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
301
1
was simple John Falstaff to his familiars;
and surely I may hope that we are on those
terms. But I've heard it remarked that
well-bred Americans are more formal than
we are, and mister and sir each other when
we should merely use each others' names."
"We have no visible social barriers, and
no recognized marks of social position;
therefore, unless we're very intimate, we
are a little more precise with each other
than you are."
"Well enough, then, in your case, per-
haps. Pahdon me for speakin'. But let
that go. Now about this money. If you
want it, and if you can make me see that
the thing's safe and sure for you and
Margy, you can have it. Don't look so
startled. I can do it without touchin' the
estate, or harmin' the children, or even cut-
tin' down any of those trees that Mr. Wash-
ington Adams spoke of as my stock in trade.
I've never thought much of the Atlantic
telegraph; but now I have some respect for
it. I can arrange all that for you, and will
do it, if your plan proves sound, and if”
again the little significance of manner-
"you continue to desire it.”
302
THE FATE OF
"Lord Toppingham, what can I say to
such a proposal? How can I thank you?
How can I accept it?"
"Most incorruptible of Yankees, not to
be bribed by fifty thousand pounds into
droppin' his friend's title! Say Thanks,
dear Toppin'ham, I'll accept your offer as
frankly as it's made, for Margy's sake, whom
we both love.' Don't you see? I don't pro-
pose givin' you the money: not quite that.
If your project is sound you'll return it to
me, and you and Margy 'll have what you
gain by the loan. If one friend lends an-
other money that he's not usin' himself, and
receives it again, he 's done no great thing;
and you might use all I have on those terms;
you might use me, for Margy's good, and
yours; and now yours is Margy's ;" he laid
his hand kindly on Humphreys' shoulder.
"Well then, dear Toppingham, you shall
do as you think best.”
"And as you think best when the
time comes.
And now to-morrow write
your letter to your precious colonel."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
303
XII.
THE BRITISH LION INCOGNITO.
THE shock that Margaret had received
proved to have been so disturbing that just
at that time she was sufficiently affected by
it for her physician to advise rest and abso-
lute quiet for a few days, -a prescription
which had some influence upon the issue of
the affairs we are recounting. But after
the few days of quiet and tender treatment
she came down again as radiant as ever.
Lord Toppingham had come but for a
three months' visit, and he now wished to
start upon his travels. Humphreys, al-
though he could do little now in the way of
retrieving his fortunes, did not feel as if he
could be absent long enough to act as the
guide and fellow-traveler of his kind friend
and relative, as the latter now called himself.
He could go off with him for two or three
days at a time, he said, but not longer.
"You can coach me, though, and give
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THE FATE OF
me what letters I need, can't you?" said
the peer.
"That, indeed; but if your name ap-
peared upon the hotel registers you'd need
no letters. You'd have more invitations
than you could accept, and see more report-
ers and interviewers than you ever saw be-
fore in your life, and be asked to visit more
schools and "institootions" than you could
remember in all the rest of it."
"True?'
"Quite true; such is democratic devotion
to rank. But what do you really want to
do; to jaunt about, and be fêted, and have
a railway, and theatre, and club view of the
country, or really to learn something of the
people and their ways of life?”
The latter, of course."
"Then you must drop your title and go
about as an undistinguished person and a
commoner. No well-known lord or lecturer
or literary man that I ever knew of saw
more than the mere surface of society in
this country.
"And why?"
"Because he was constantly on exhibi-
tion, public or private, himself; and the
J
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
305
people that he saw were on exhibition to
him. That view, and what he saw as he
whisked over railways, gave him the sum of
his knowledge which was simply noth-
ing.
""
"What must I do then? I don't exactly
see my way."
"First drop your title, as I said before.
Travel as a simple unknown gentleman.
You might use your own family name. Mr.
Topping would do very well."
“But that would be such a strange, high-
sounding name for this country," said Mar-
garet, who was present.
"Not at all. You don't know. There
were Toppings in New York and Boston
fifty years ago, and more; " and, turning to
the earl, "if you were supposed to be a
grandson of old George Topping the ship-
builder, who lived in Delancey Street, New
York, about that time, it would n't do you
any harm."
"Old Topping, the ship-builder! ' ex-
claimed Margaret, with a look of amaze-
ment; but the earl only smiled, and said,.
Perhaps he'd as good a right to the
azure shield with the ten white lozenges
as I have."
(6
20
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THE FATE OF
"And then," Humphreys continued, “al-
though English fashions are so much in
vogue now in France and in America, it
would be well for you to modify some slight
external signs of what Margaret would call
the Britisher in your appearance."
"You shameless creature! And what,
sir, must guardy do? I'm sure his clothes
are quite like yours, which indeed I know
are made in London, at the swellest tailor's
in town."
66
Cheapness, cheapness! They cost lit-
tle more than half as much as poorer ones
made here; especially when you smuggle
them, as I do. I'm an absolute free-trader
in theory."
"In practice, too, it would seem," said
Lord Toppingham. "But go on, please,
into particulars."
"To make the matter sure, I should ad-
vise you to go to one any one of the
dozen or twenty great clothes factories in
New York, where clothes are cut and made
by machinery, and provide yourself with
a morning suit. It would do much to give
you an average look. Then-you asked for
particulars that little bit of dark crimson
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
307
silk scarf with the small turquoise-headed
pin is very handsome, and really quiet
withal, but if you would wear "
“Not a satin scarf with a diamond pin?"
cried Margaret, "I hate a satin scarf and a
diamond."
"If your ladyship had not interrupted
me, I should merely have advised a dark,
plain, or spotted scarf, and have said nothing
about diamonds. Take off two, I should
say, pray pardon me for going into such
minutiæ, - at least two of your rings. You
may wear one a stone or a signet; but
that snake with the ruby head and that
Belcher of emerald and diamonds would
surely mark you as a stranger here. Then
you'd better cut your hair a little shorter,
and have it lie a little closer, with less of
easy negligence. Continue to part it in the
middle if you will; for that is not notably
eccentric; but it would be better to part it
on the side. As to your whiskers, there's
either too much of them or too little. Bet-
ter have none at all than those little fringes
to your cheeks. Cut them off and wear
only a mustache if you will. But best of
all" (with a sly smile), "if you could per-
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THE FATE OF
suade yourself to grow what our Western
friends call chin-whiskers
יי
“Mansfield Humphreys! you abomina-
ble wretch! Have guardy look like a goat,
or like "
and she crimsoned into silence.
"I know that if he went back with such
a face to Cousin Kate he'd do without a
kiss till he cut it off. Indeed I doubt if
old Wraggs" [the butler] "would let him
into the Priory."
"He let in Mr. Washington Adams."
"Yes, but he was an American and a
curiosity."
"The suggested ornamentation," said
Lord Toppingham, "is unfortunately quite
unattainable for lack of time. Any other
little grace or elegance to be added?"
"Destroyed," cried Margaret.
o;
"No; nothing merely external; for for-
tunately your pointed-toed shoes will do
they would n't have done eight or ten years
ago. I would n't, I think, carry that small,
close-packed umbrella of yours always, even
on bright windy days. But as to your
manner: be just as polite as you please
among our friends; the more courteous the
better; but in general a little less of suav-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
309
ity would help to ensure you against detec-
tion. Unless you 're in a friend's house,
I would n't say Thanks' quite so often.
Chiefly, however, I suggest that you should,
if possible, drop or greatly modify a certain
courteous and considerate way you have
of treating people, and at the same time
assuming that they should do just as you
wish."
"In other words, guardy 's to forget he's
a gentleman, and to behave like a rich snob,
or a cad in fine clothes. Oh, I do wish
Kate were here! You'd hear of this, sir.
She has a tongue becomes a woman."
66
66
Margy!" exclaimed Lord Toppingham.
'Forgive me, guardy! I didn't mean it.
But you know that Kate can say a sharp
thing when there's good occasion; and I've
seen you enjoy it."
Lord Toppingham followed Humphreys'
suggestions so far as they were practicable;
and the change in his appearance was not
only discernable but significant to an observ-
ant eye, considering the slightness of the
means by which it was produced. The earl
looked far more like an "average Ameri-
310
THE FATE OF
can " than Humphreys did himself, who
had superintended the metamorphosis, and
by a little contrivance had made it as com-
plete as possible. When Margaret saw her
guardian in his "American" rig she at first
laughed a merry little laugh, and turned
him round daintily with finger and thumb;
but as she looked at him her face became
sober and resentful, and so remained until
he asked her to give a poor Yankee a kiss,
and took one.
Of
"And now where shall I go?"
"Yes, that's a point of importance.
course you'll see Boston and its suburbs,
being with us. Then I would go, in Massa-
chusetts, to Newburyport and to Salem, to
Springfield and to Stockbridge; to Ports-
mouth in New Hampshire, and perhaps to
Keene; to Burlington in Vermont, and to
Hartford, New Haven, and Waterbury in
Connecticut. Philadelphia and its suburbs
of course you'll see; and I'd go to Burling-
ton in New Jersey, and to Orange, although
of late years that has become rather a dormi-
tory for the overflow of the heterogeneous
dwellers in New York. At the West I
should see Cleveland in Ohio, Lexington
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
311
in Kentucky, and, if you go so far, De-
troit in Michigan. That's twelve hundred
miles from here. If you'll go down upon
Long Island, you'll see some of the most
genuine Yankees that can be found; people
who, as you say in England, have been
seated in their counties for two centuries
and a half, living in houses built by their
grandfathers and their great-grandfathers;
some of them people of the finest culture,
although not one in a hundred of them has
been across the ocean; many of them very
plain and uncultured, but having an inde-
pendence of character and a mental quick-
ness that may surprise you in such simple
rustic folk. And this you will find measur-
ably true of all the places I have mentioned.
All these I can put you in the way of see-
ing; but as to the South, if you wish to go
there, I can do little or nothing for you.
Besides, that is quite a different subject of
observation and of study. Our common-
wealths are united under the same general
government; but our people and they are,
or were before the war, as unlike as Scotch-
men and Irishmen are to Englishmen, al-
though they are all British subjects. They,
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THE FATE OF
too, are unlike each other. A Louisianian
is as unlike a Virginian as a Scotchman is
unlike an Irishman; a Georgian almost as
unlike a South Carolinian as a Highlander
is unlike a Lowlander. Their bond of unity
and semblance of sameness has been slavery
and the bloody code that accompanied slav-
ery. There, however, you would n't think
of going; for Louisiana, where New Orleans
is, is fifteen hundred miles from here
I informed you when we first met.'
as
"I remember how astonished I was at
hearin' it, and what a blunderin' remark I
made about Washin'ton defeatin' the Brit-
ish army there. You must have thought
me a great ignoramus."
"Not more so than I've found many of
the most intelligent and best educated of
your countrymen on the same subject. But
you've been reading up, I see, when you 've
got so far as to discover that it was Jack-
son and not Washington, and 1813 and not
1783."
}
"To be sure. Why, Washin'ton himself
was never within a thousand miles of New
Orleans; never went to the South. And
to be sure I've read up. Do you think
!
¡
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
313
that I would come to America in the gross
state of ignorance in which I was, and with-
out preparin' myself a little for my study?
Why, even good old Tooptoe, who lives in
the second aorist, and never could see the
joke about some great man's not being able
to conjugate a verb in μ, would be ashamed
of his pupil. But these towns you tell me of
and send me to are places I never heard of
before. People in England would n't know
what I meant if I spoke of 'em, and would
wonder why I took the trouble to see 'em."
"Doubtless. You regard what you call
America as composed chiefly of New York,
Washington, Chicago, San Francisco, Niag-
ara Falls, and the boundless prairie, with
the railways and hotels between these
points. Now you might see all these and
yet be as ignorant of the society and the
people which are the real product of the
country as if you had stayed at home. Chi-
cago and San Francisco have actually grown
up within the memory of one generation.
If you wish to observe the social condi-
tion of a heterogeneous mass of trading
adventurers, hastily gathered together, and
nearly half of them Europeans, go to New
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THE FATE OF
York, Chicago, and San Francisco. But I
beg you to absolve me and mine from the re-
sults of any such observation, however much
you may be moved to admiration. So far
as we are concerned, the same people (al-
though some indeed of them are Yankees)
might as well be in Australia or Alaska."
"Alaska? What's that?"
"A newly acquired portion of our native
land somewhere near the North Pole."
"You'll annex the North Pole itself be-
fore long."
"About the same time that Great Britain
takes the antipodal axis under her protec-
tion."
After seeing something of Boston and its
society, and taking a few trips of a day or
two with Humphreys in various directions,
Lord Toppingham, who then began to feel
quite at ease, if not at home, started on his
longer journey. During his absence Mar-
garet preserved her high health, and was in
such a fine state of nerves and spirits that
she was a daily tonic and stimulant to
Humphreys, who needed all the cheer that
could be given him. Lord Toppingham's
generous offer to advance the money that
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
315
he needed for his great speculative opera-
tion, he had been brought to accept by the
earl's warm insistance, supported, some-
what to Humphreys' surprise, by the ad-
vice of Margaret. "Let guardy do what he
pleases. You may be sure he 'll do nothing
that he ought not; nothing that Cousin
Kate would n't be willing to have him do.”
Chiefly, however, he consented because he
felt sure of being able to return the money
almost immediately.
Hardly, however, had Lord Toppingham
turned his back upon Boston, when the
financial world, with surprise, began to find
an unaccountable uneasiness in the stock
market as to two or three great railways,
and chiefly as to the Great South Western.
The men who had put millions of dollars
into it began to be anxious, although they
kept bold and even smiling faces; and the
men who had been disappointed because
they had not been allowed a share in the
“deal” began to be content. The uneasi-
ness went on until it became apprehension,
and at last alarm. For alarm there was
good reason. In six weeks the estimated
value of the South Western had fallen sev-
316
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eral millions of dollars and the course was
still downward. Shares could not be sold
except at such ruinous losses that no one
would sell unless compelled to do so. Ere
long there was a complete collapse; talks
of a receiver and investigations and what
not. A railway upon which millions had
been spent, millions eagerly advanced by
shrewd hard-headed business men, and to
which hundreds of thousands of acres of
land had been allotted, was suddenly found
to be worth nothing as merchandise, and
very little as a present means of invest-
ment. Why, no one seemed exactly to
know; although certain financial sages, who
had not been bitten, shook their heads and
talked wisely in just such vague terms as
they had used before when ruin had come
from quite other causes; and other financial
sages who had been bitten also shook their
heads and also talked wisely, and in vague
terms, but of a directly opposite meaning.
By the time of Lord Toppingham's return,
which was a few days before the expiration.
of Humphreys' date for completing the pro-
posed purchase of his shares, the Great
South Western Railway, on the phenome-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
317
nal success and dazzling promise of which
projects had been founded, business part-
nerships established, marriages made, great
houses built, had been swallowed up as a
mere make-weight in a deal with another
company, the very one which had, ruined
that which was Humphreys' chief source of
income, and had disappeared as available
property.
Lord Toppingham wrote to Margaret
from time to time; but his letters were
very short; mere information as to where
he was, with assurances of affectionate re-
membrance. To one of these letters, how-
ever, just after the final downfall of the
Great South Western had been announced
by the telegraph all over the country, he
added "Keep up a good heart, my girl, and
tell Humphreys not to be cast down; that
I know more than he does, and that I see a
sure way for you both out of all this trou-
ble."
He returned a little browner and less
fresh-looking from his traveling through
the drier air of "America;" a little more
"American "-looking than when he set out;
and with two or three roughish but racy
318
THE FATE OF
slang phrases which he had caught up on
the western limits of his journey, and which
he uttered with smiles and great relish.
The very next day, however, after his arri
val in Boston, he laid aside his slight but
much modifying American disguises, and
came down stairs, as Margaret said, "clothed
and in his right mind." To Humphreys
he spoke most cheerfully, and with a bright
confidence of tone and warmth of manner
that did much to sustain and hearten him
in his adversity. With Margaret her guar-
dian had that day, when Humphreys had
gone out, an interview the results of which
were both pleasing and perplexing to her
husband when he returned and during the
rest of the day.
After she had given herself to him, Mar-
garet never in their privacy coyed her love,
but, without wearying him with appeals for
assurances of affection or demands for little
attentions, she seemed to find the delight
of her life in showing him, without much
telling, her own fondness. But this day,
when he came home, she gave him such a
greeting as he might have hoped for had he
been gone a year. She was sun and shower:
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
319
she was radiant with smiles and blushes,
and she rained both tears and kisses. She
broke away from him, but erelong returned,
and going up to him took his head between
her hands and gazing into his eyes cried,
"O you darling, you darling! I've got you
now! Fast, fast!" All through the after-
noon, whenever they were alone, there
would come from her some such sweet dem-
onstration of rejoicing fondness.
"Margery! What is the matter with
you, girl? Are you possessed?"
"I think I must be." Then, with an
outbreak of laughter like a thrush's notes
in a warm still day, "O no, no, not quite
possessed; not yet; possession will come
hereafter." Whereupon, her memory be-
ing stimulated by the word she had used,
she broke out with a sweet joy that had yet
in it a touch of tenderness,
"What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter:
What's to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.”
Then, after suiting the action to the
word, she caught up her skirts lightly, and
320
THE FATE OF
darting mischief from backward eyes, she
fled away on twinkling feet.
At dinner Margaret continued radiant.
Lord Toppingham was gravely cheerful,
with an occasional humorous and significant
smile at Margaret's sallies. Humphreys ate
sparingly, and almost in silence, sorely puz-
zled by Margaret's tone, and by the expres-
sion of her guardian's face. As they went
into the drawing-room, Margaret, who was
going first, with her hand on Lord Topping-
ham's shoulder, pulled his ear down to her
lips and whispered, "Guardy, dear, do let
me tell him. I can't keep it much longer.
Poor fellow! see how dumpish he is, and
we're so happy." The reply, "To-night,
surely," seemed to satisfy her.
1
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
321
XIII.
DR. TOPPINGHAM'S "ANTE-MORTEM.
""
MARGARET withdrew to her own room
early, and the gentlemen went into Hum-
phreys' den to smoke. Only some desul-
tory remarks had passed between them
heretofore about the impressions derived
by Lord Toppingham from his trip, partly
because of the pressing nature of Hum-
phreys' private affairs, and partly because
he shrank from catechizing his friend as
to "how he liked the country." Lord Top-
pingham introduced the subject himself;
and after he had uttered a few phrases of
hearty praise and of keen but not un-
kindly criticism, Humphreys said, "You 're
touching the surface of things only, I see.
Tell me plainly, what is your judgment of
the people here and the condition of affairs."
66
Plainly, without reserve?"
""
"Plainly, and without reserve.
“And you'll not be offended?”
21
322
THE FATE OF
"Why should I be? There is probably
not a thoughtful New Englander who is not
at heart sorer than you could make him;
and I have my private wounds."
"Plainly then, the country is in a condi-
tion for which there is no precedent in his-
tory. It is useless to look into the past for
parallels or for guides. Nothing at all like
it was ever known, or could have been
known. The conditions are altogether
unlike any that have ever before existed.
Therefore prediction would be folly.
Don't suppose that I say even this merely
upon my observation since I have been
here; although that has been closer than
you may suppose, and I have had assistance
that you don't know of. But before I came
here, stimulated by what you had said to
me, and by a discovery of my ignorance, I
informed myself as thoroughly as I could
upon your history and affairs. The task is
not long nor difficult. A people who have
lived upon the soil they occupy not yet
three hundred years, and who have had a
separate political existence of but a cen-
tury, who brought with them the contem-
porary civilization of their fathers' land,
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
323
with its laws, its religion and its customs,
its literature, nay its very cradle-songs and
household words, and who have preserved
these; who have had no dynasties, no revo-
lutions, even constitutional, and until very
recently no war, and that a civil one of a
very simple character, although very bloody
and costly a people with such a brief,
eventless past cannot have much history
worthy of study. It could all, with lib-
eral consideration of detail that has any im-
port, be packed into one ordinary octavo
volume."
"In that opinion I am entirely with you.
Because the revolt of the Colonies was an
important political fact, and the United
States are a vast and thriving federation,
I can't see why we should be bored with all
the trivial detail even of Hildreth's history.
The chief point of interest is that events of
such influence upon the world were brought
about by such trifling means and uninterest-
ing actions."
"And what do you think is the impor-
tance of these events to the world?"
Humphreys, troubled in soul, and not
ready as usual in discussion, paused reflec-
tively for some minutes.
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THE FATE OF
"I will tell you," said Lord Toppingham,
"it is just what your friend told us at
luncheon when you, as Mr. Washington
Adams, asked my question. Simply that
here you have food for the hungry and free-
dom for the oppressed."
"Nothing more?"
66
Absolutely nothing. And the oppressed
who here find relief must come from some
other country than England. Poverty may
pinch harder there than it does here, al-
though even that I doubt as to sober men.
The sufferings of poor people at home, great
as they otherwise might be, come more
from beer and gin than from lack of money.
Drunkenness is so large a factor among the
causes of want and suffering and crime in
England, and so small a one here among
your native artisans and other working men,
that a comparison of the effect of the social
and political institutions of the two countries
upon these conditions of life could not be
correctly made until one half of your native.
manual workers had been more or less
drunk for one third of the time for a whole
generation."
"A frightful suggestion. Are you not
extravagant?"
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
325
"Nothin' of the sort. I'm quite within
bounds. Now here I have passed parts of
many days in the poorer quarters of half a
dozen towns, large and small, without see-
in' a single drunken man or woman; and
I see by your police reports that the drunk
and disorderly people that you do have are
nearly all of foreign birth. But, to return.
I need not tell a man of intelligence that
the freedom of the British subject is as ab-
solutely perfect as that of the American cit
izen, and that the freedom is of the same
kind, resting on the same principles. Nor
need I tell you of the like exemption of both
from oppressive taxes and services; such, for
example, as those which grievously aggra-
vate the sufferings which a poverty that
you know nothing of inflicts upon the lower
classes of Germany. But there is the limit
of your superiority in this respect. You
show in this country an indifference to per-
sonal rights, and a sluggishness in their as-
sertion, that is astonishin' and depressin'.
I cannot account for it in a people of your
race, your political experience and education,
and your personal courage. Here individu-
als and minorities have no rights. You live
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THE FATE OF
under a tyranny of majorities, professional
politicians, and rich corporations.
"And the worst of this matter is that you
seem to have lost the power of resistance.
You submit with the supineness of sluggish-
ness and cowardice. Your only mode of
seekin' relief seems to be to endeavor to
become a part of the oppressin' majority, or,
directly or indirectly, of some monopolizin'
oppressin' corporation; and if you cannot do
that, you yield without protest or audible
murmur. Then you seek to 'get even,' in
your own phrase, by individually disregard-
ing each other's personal rights. Judgin'
you in a general way, and without the limits
of social relations, there does not seem to
be a man of you who is not ready to set at
naught his neighbor's comfort, convenience,
health, or enjoyment of life, if by so doin'
he can get or save a dollar. To this too
you submit; each one bein' content to do
so, it would seem, because he knows that he
is in like manner at liberty to set at naught
the personal rights of his neighbor. A
sorry sight, made worse instead of better by
the easy tolerance and the mildness of man-
ners by which it is accompanied. You are
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
327
becomin' a nation of complacent robbers
and swindlers. You don't rob openly and
steal like sneak-thieves; but you do appro-
priate to yourselves the rights of others
whenever you can do so with impunity. You
have a slavish deference to the forms of law,
and a compensatin' disregard of the spirit of
justice. Your treatment of British authors.
is a mere manifestation of this spirit. You
are not mean nor greedy. You are not un-
willin' to pay the British author, or any au-
thor, a reasonable price for his work. But
if certain publishers can make money for
themselves and the people they employ, and
give you cheap and nasty books, you are su-
pinely indifferent to the injustice and the
disgrace of the proceedin'. You show in
practice no sense of public honor."
"Are there no men in England who dis-
regard the rights of others, no swindling
corporations, no scoundrel traders, no pi-
rates who rob within the letter of the law?
It seems to me that I have heard of them."
"Thousands. But we don't submit to
them. We resist them: we fight them. In-
dividually, we, the rest of the thirty mil-
lions, insist upon our rights, and, if we can,
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THE FATE OF
upon the punishment of those who disregard
them. We bring them before police mag-
istrates. We indict them, try them, con-
vict them, and send them to prison or to
penal colonies, no matter what their wealth
or position. Therefore you hear of them.
You make them mayors, and aldermen, and
legislators, and school commissioners. With
all our respect for the freedom of the press
we don't allow men even to libel away our
rights and reputations in newspapers as
you do.
We sue them, and if we can prove
that they have published untruth to our in-
jury we can punish them in damages: yes,
indeed; we even send them to prison. The
newspaper here is one of your tyrants; one
of those to whom you all submit most ab-
jectly. You allow journalists to say what
they please about you for their profit or
their other private ends, and for your amuse-
ment, each one of you bein' content to run
his risk if he may enjoy the discomfiture of
others."
"I'm afraid that count of your indict-
ment cannot be traversed."
"I should think not. Panem et circenses.
Bread you have without the askin'; and
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
329
the newspaper is your circus, in which you
see reputations butchered to make sport for
the public."
"After all it does not make much mat-
ter; does little harm. No man is much in-
jured in this country by a newspaper par-
agraph, nor even by an elaborate slander
under the guise of criticism. People read
it and soon forget it."
"So much the worse for the country, if
that were true. It shows that the institu-
tion that should be the guardian of your
rights and your reputations has lost its prop-
er dignity and its power for good, and has
become a conduit for scandal and an arena
of vituperation. But it is not true that
this does no personal wrong. It is impos-
sible that evil should be printed and pub-
lished to tens of thousands of readers, and
do no harm. To use a common phrase,
'Some of the dirt will stick.' But your
public seems to find pleasure in this public
foulin' even of those whom you call your
prominent men. I've been offended by
the familiar and disparagin' way in which
I have seen men who ought to hold, and
some of whom were likely to hold, the most
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THE FATE OF
no
eminent positions among you handled by
flippant, vulgar writers in your journals.
You seem determined that you will leave n
one unsmirched; and to find delight in the
consciousness that no man is worthy the
respectful consideration and deference of his
fellow citizens. You keep up a perpetual
ostracism; and every man among you whose
reputation rises a little above the average
is likely to prove the fate of Aristides. You
don't like very bad men; but what you
worship is a mediocrity of mind and morals,
like the man who eulogized a woman as
'pretty chaste.' The one great qualifica-
tion sought in a candidate for high office is
that he shall have offended no one by high
principle or a positive course of public con-
duct; and the consequence is that your
public affairs are in the hands of managin'
mediocrities. To all this there is but one
exception. Your hero, he whom all men
praise, is the man who has made himself
rich and who will spend his money freely on
his friends, his party, or the public."
"You mean that 's the way we take our
circuses."
66
'Exactly. And to repeat what I have
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
331
said before in another form, the worst of
all this is the indifference with which you
regard the evidence of your own condition
which is constantly set before you. You
have no reserves, and seem to have no
shame. The exposures which are daily
made in your newspapers of corruption,
peculation, thievery, deliberately planned
and carried on for years as a systematic
and tolerable, if not justifiable, mode of
managin' public business, have come to be
accepted by you as mere interestin' items of
news, or as occasions of what you call inves-
tigations, which again waste public money,
and out of which may be made what you
call political capital. I was present at one
of these investigations and I say to you sol-
emnly that I could not tell which seemed
the greater scoundrels, the men who were
investigated, or those who were conductin'
the investigation. The tone of the whole.
proceedin' was a mixture of trickery and
a low sort of easy-goin' jocoseness. Manly
dignity and honor were wholly absent. I
would not have employed one of the men
on either side as an attorney. The very
atmosphere of the place was an offense.
332
THE FATE OF
And yet these were your legislators. The
reports in the newspapers made quite as
much of the low jokes of a professional
funny man on one side as they did of what
was, or should have been, the serious part
of the business; and even the best of your
journalists seemed desirous to get some triv-
ial entertainment for their readers out of
the proceedin'. The wrong revealed did
not appear to me nearly so deplorable as
the lack in the community of a genuine in-
dignation against the wrong. Even in
Even in your
society there appears the same lack of moral
tone and of moral courage. The social ban
has become obsolete among you. All that
you ask is success, by fair means or by foul.
I learned of an entertainment at the house
of a man who had occupied two of the high-
est public positions which a man can occu-
py in your country, and who himself was as
honest, I believe, as a man can be who is
a professional politician here, at which a
fellow, one Bullion, who in England would
long ago have been sent into penal servi-
tude for half his life, sat between the host
and a gentleman of as fair a character as
himself, and who now is a very eminent per-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
333
sonage indeed. No one is ignorant that that
man is a financial robber and cut-throat, and
yet, success having made him powerful, you
have no class of sufficiently established po-
sition and character to venture to exclude
him from society."
"Did you never hear of successful scoun-
drels making their way among the courts
and the nobles of Europe, and being put to
use by their entertainers?"
"Often, in the past; but not nowadays;
at least in England. You surely do not
mean to ignore the elevation of moral tone
in public affairs which has taken place
within the last century. What was done
with impunity in Walpole's time would in-
sure political and social damnation now.
But
you don't seem to see the worst aspect
of the corruption which pervades your coun-
try in politics, in finance, and in society,-
which pervades it accordin' to your own
testimony. There's a book in your house
which you have not seen, and which I
think you will hardly require to see for
the proper apprehension of this question.
Your position brings to you many news-
papers from all parts of the country. Now
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THE FATE OF
from these Margaret has, during the past
two years, cut out the records of corruption,
peculation, and other base conduct of men
in office, in positions of trust, private as
well as public, reports of legal proceedin's
in which people— women as well as men
said to occupy respectable positions in soci-
ety were involved, and, in general, whatever
might be justly regarded as fair evidence of
the moral tone of the country as revealed
in action, and these she pasted in a huge
scrap-book. I have read it with astonish-
ment, equally at its bulk, as it covers but
two years, and at the character of its reve-
lations. There has been no such implicit
indictment of a people since Abraham found
that there were not ten just men in Sodom.
"And this is the two years' record of a
country in which the means of comfortable
and reputable life are more diffused and
easier of attainment than in any other
known to history, and a country, too, which
is filled with churches and with public
schools. This is the fact which is most
striking, most damnatory, most alarming,
in your political and social condition. The
city of New York spends the enormous sum
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
335
of three million and a half dollars in one
year on public schools, the purpose and the
only justification of which is the elevation
of the public morals, the making of good
citizens, and intelligent voters; and New
York is the most corrupt and the worst gov-
erned city in the world. My point is that
you educate your people, spend millions
in doing it, and then that they choose these
vulgar scoundrels to administer their affairs.
You are not suffering from the ills inflicted
by an effete and bloated aristocracy" (Lord
Toppingham dwelt a little on these words),
"your government bein' a government of
the people, by the people, and for the peo-
ple, as Mr. Lincoln taught you to say;
and yet from one end of the country to the
other, except in a few corners of New Eng-
land, your public affairs are in the hands
of vulgar rogues, of whom your New York
worthies are but eminent and distinguished
members of their kind."
"Thrift, thrift, Horatio," said Humphreys
bitterly. "What would you have? The
priest must live by the altar, even if the al-
tar is the altar of liberty. Politicians who
do politics as other people do other busi-
336
THE FATE OF
us.
ness must profit, they and their supporters,
by their trade. To this condition have man-
hood suffrage and a paid legislature brought
The two, working together, have made
money the end, and corruption the means,
of political life. It was a moral certainty.
But you seem to ignore the movement for
civil service reform, the object of which is
to purify our politics."
"Civil service reform! Court-plaster for
a cancer! The disease is not in your poli-
tics; it is in your people. I don't mean
such people as you, my dear Humphreys.
You are powerless; as to which point I
shall say something to you by and by. I
mean the people who, will you nill you,
control the politics and make the politi
cians of the country. They want affairs to
go on as they are goin'. This I can't say
from personal observation and inquiry, of
course; but it is another moral certainty.
If the politicians offended the moral sense
of their constituents, their real constituents,
or if they did not serve their interests, the
politicians in a democratic, manhood - suf-
frage government would be displaced, and
that speedily. The conclusion is as certain
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
337
The cor-
as that five is more than four.
ruption of your politics is a mere sign and
token of a general corruption, a degradation
of the moral sense, a willin'ness on all sides
to disregard right, within the limit of the
law, for greed of gain. I don't say that
you are the only people who show the work-
ing of such a common motive of action; for
there at least is Russia, where we are told
that everybody cheats the state except the
Czar, who is the state. But I do
But I do say that,
as you must see, you are the only people in
which such stupendous and wide-spread cor-
ruption is carried on, and has been carried
on for many years, by the elected represen-
tatives of the people, and equally by those
elected from both parties. The same moral
deficiency which has produced Margaret's
dreadful array of dishonesty, swindling,
breach of trust, finds expression in your
politics; disregard of right, wrong-doing
within the letter of the law, for gain, lead-
ing surely to wrong-doing of any kind that
may be concealed. Do you suppose that
all these thieves, and swindlers, and betray-
ers of trust, and ruiners of banks and other
corporations, are very exceptional men in
22
338
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their moral tone, or that they would shrink
from obtaining by political corruption, if
they could, what they take in another way?
or that it grieves them that your political
Jims and Mikes and Barneys prey upon the
public in one way as they do in another?
It's all of a piece. You have no god but
Mammon. Now in England, too, we wor-
ship Mammon; but we have other gods; and
Mammon, although powerful, is not omnip-
otent. In England there are some things
that money cannot do; in America, noth-
ing. Was it always in your politics, even
in New York, as it is now?"
"No, indeed; we have only to go back
one generation to the days of our fathers, to
find an entirely different state of things."
"I knew it; and asked merely to elicit
your answer. For when I was in New
York, I learned there from middle-aged and
elderly men, who easily put the proofs be-
fore me, that forty or fifty years ago the
government of that city was in the hands
of fitting representatives of its best men;
its most respectable, most respected, most
intelligent, and cultivated people. That
members of the families of the highest so-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
339
cial consideration were its aldermen, and
that its other offices were filled as might be
expected under such administration of its
affairs. Now it is only necessary to read
the New York newspapers to see that its
City Hall is a den of thieves, and of vulgar,
ignorant thieves, a nest of unclean birds
who prey with unconcealed rapacity. One
or two men of honor and intelligence have
managed to get into the Board (I learned
it at first hand), in the hope of beginning
reform, or at least of resisting evil: they
were absolutely powerless; were laughed
at, and came out smirched and wounded.
The respectable citizens have again and
again united to put down the vulgar, igno-
rant thieves. In vain; they were reëlected;
reëlected in committee, reëlected in caucus,
reëlected at the polls. Not this man, but
Barabbas!" Can you tell what is the
cause of this? Why were the most respec-
table and the most respected men the man-
agers of public affairs in the days of your
father, and why are they now in the hands
of vulgar robbers and sharpers?”
6
"I can't tell, unless it is that I recollect
reading in a chance newspaper when I was
340
THE FATE OF
(
a boy, as an explanation of some unex-
pected little political manœuvre (I forget
what) that it meant that the people were
coming.' I remember wondering at the
time what it meant, and if my father and
my uncles and their friends were not the
people.' Since then this political rotten-
ness has been steadily growing."
66
6
Right again. Your direct testimony
confirms the à priori argument. New York,
although you say, and with reason, it is the
most un-American of places, exhibits in its
politics only a highly charged, but most
characteristic, illustration of what is, what
must have become, more or less, the condi-
tion of your public affairs everywhere. In a
country which had no recognized and estab-
lished superior class, in which legislators
were paid salaries and traveling expenses,
and every man out of prison had a vote, it
was inevitable, as you yourself have said,
that politics should become a mere business
for the benefit of professional politicians
and of those who put them in power; and
when upon a country in this condition un-
precedented wealth poured in on one side,
and unprecedented immigration of the low-
•
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
341
est and most ignorant classes of foreign na-
tions on the other, to be made at once into
citizens and voters, as miracles now have
ceased, since the sun no longer stands upon
Gibeon, nor the moon in the valley of Aja-
lon, but natural laws have their natural op-
eration, the government of the country is
sought for the sake of public plunder in
which professional politicians and their sup-
porters share. The announcement that pro-
voked your boyish wonder meant simply
that the masses of the people had found out
that they were the ruling majority, and
that they meant to use their power for their
own profit I mean their individual gain
in dollars and cents, and not the good of
the country and that they also had dis-
covered that there were men coming into
the management of politics who would do
their work for them on shares. Can you
deny that the course of your politics, and
the course of your legislation since then has
shown this to be true?"
"I fear not. What remedy would you
propose? More general education?'
"Education again! That an observin'
and reflectin' man should ask such a ques-
342
THE FATE OF
tion! You scoffed at me good naturedly
my dear Humphreys, good naturedly — for
my ignorance of your affairs; and then I
was ignorant. But now that I am not, it
would seem to me that you must be so, to
make such a suggestion. If by education
you meant moral trainin', a fittin' for the
work and the duties of life, I should answer
that you could n't have too much of it; and
that it would be in some degree at least a
remedy for the ills from which you suffer.
But you used the word, I know, in the gen-
eral sense it has in America and even to a
great degree in England - school teachin',
the pourin' of ics and graphies and ologies
down children's throats. You have too
much of that already. The more you have
of it, the worse you are. Look at New
York, again; by self-confession of its decent
and helpless citizens, the corruptest, dirti-
est, worst governed city on the earth, and
yet spending millions a year on a public-
school system that has been in operation
forty years. Why there, there, the very
school system is made the occasion of rapa-
cious public plunder, of the vilest demorali-
zation on the part of the very men engaged
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
343
in it, as I was told by those who knew the
facts officially. Education! When did
knowledge hinder crime? Did you ever
read the history of the Renaissance? Did
you never meet a simple creature who could
neither read nor write, and who could not
be led to wrong another, and who would
recognize the good among his superiors, and
cheerfully submit to them?”
"That's a very aristocratic view of the
case."
"In the right sense of the word it is.
Don't you think that such a rule of the best
would be better than such a government of
the people by the people and for the peo-
ple as you have now in America, and which
has been taking on its present character ex-
actly pari passu with your boasted system
of free schools?"
said
"I can't now undertake to say;
Humphreys, rather languidly. "I don't
feel in a disputing mood. I'm very sure
it would n't please the people quite so well."
"Indeed it would n't: they, as I said
before, want affairs managed as they are
managed now, and are willing to put up
with their little individual losses in the plun-
344
THE FATE OF
derin' for their chance of a share of the
plunder."
"But a people cannot plunder itself any
more than a Czar can.'
99
"Of course not. Not directly, through
political office. But a very considerable
part of the people may plunder the whole
indirectly through the assistance of political
officers. And on this considerable part of
the public, with its various affiliations, form-
in' the body which controls your elections,
your politicians depend surely for support.
Now all this is possible only because of the
lax tone of morals in regard to gettin' gain
of which your political condition is at once
a sign and an exciting cause. The whole
must be reformed together, or not at all.
You will give your civil-service tonic to your
jaundiced patient and paint his saffron skin
with the light of learnin' all in vain."
"It strikes me, m'luds, that the noble lud
who last addressed you occupied your atten-
tion merely with destructive criticism. I'm
sure your ludships would be pleased to hear
from him "
"Nonsense, Humphreys. And don't you
know that all good honest criticism of sys-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
345
tems or affairs, criticism that leads toward
reform, must be destructive? Pray don't
cant in that way, and forbid the discovery·
of error unless by those who can propose a
remedy. That, however, I could do; but
my remedy would have the slight defect of
being absolutely impossible of application."
"And that is —?"
"Like most physicians' prescriptions, it
has several elements. First the deprivation
of members of your various legislatures of
all pay or compensation of any kind, and
the makin' of the acceptance of a bribe,
directly or indirectly, disfranchisement for
life without pahdon; next, the appointment
of your judges durin' good behavior, and
the doublin', at least, of the salaries of all
of them; then, the election of the Presi-
dent of the United States by the represen-
tatives of the States, the Senate, and for ten
years, with ineligibility for a second term,
and the election of your State governors for
five years; then a graded scheme of suf-
frage, and the election of your tax-levyin'
bodies by your tax-payin' citizens; next
the presence of your Cabinet officers in the
House, and their compulsory resignation on
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THE FATE OF
a two-thirds vote of want of confidence:
next the abolition of all fees to executive
officers even down to deputy sheriffs, and
the substitution of salaries; and last, not
least, the disfranchisement of all persons
not born in the country.'
"Hence! wilt thou uplift Olympus?'"
"Did I not tell you that I knew my
remedy was impossible of administration?
Nevertheless, without it or its equivalent I
see no recovery for you."
"The first two items of your prescrip-
tion are just within the bounds of possibil-
ity in some blessed future, vaguely discerned
and faintly hoped for. But the third! The
President elected by the Senate! Would
not some Bonanza king, or Colonel Water-
stock, buy the Senate, or some political boss
bribe himself into the Presidency by prom-
ise of offices?"
"What matter? What matter who is
President of a Federation whose Senate can
be bought and bribed?"
"Not much, it would seem. And be-
sides, I can't see why any man now, who
has food to eat, clothes to wear, a roof over
his head, and a fair social position, should
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
347
desire to be President of the United States.
Since the term of John Quincy Adams the
office has been sinking in dignity and in-
creasing in unpleasant associations year by
year. No first-rate man goes into it by any
chance. And besides, what human creature
is so forlorn, so nondescript, so difficult to
place as a man who is ex-President, and
only an ex-President of the United States?
He is neither fish, flesh, nor good red-her-
ring. But still more impossible than this
change is the last that you propose, — dis-
franchisement of the immigrant."
"Yet, next to the first, that is the most
important. There was once a party among
you, I believe, that insisted on the discon-
tinuance of naturalization, was there not?"
"Yes indeed, and it came near to being
successful. But it went farther than you
do; at least some of its leaders did. They
would have given the franchise only to those
whose grandfathers were born in the coun-
try."
"Observant, far seein' men; although
perhaps not practical. For I have found,
no less upon good testimony than by obser-
vation, that the worst class of your commu-
348
THE FATE OF
•
nity, that which most corrupts your politics.
and debases your society, is composed not
of ignorant immigrant foreigners who have
been naturalized, but of native, common-
school-bred citizens who are the sons of im-
migrants. This class is scattered largely
wherever I have been; but New York this
class both rules and ruins-ruins it politi-
cally and morally (for its material prosper-
ity is assured, like that of your country, by
a combination of all the great forces of na-
ture); and it does the same for the various
imitation New Yorks. If your foreign pop-
ulation and your population born of for-
eigners could be removed from political in-
fluence to-day, sound political reform would
begin to-morrow."
"We know that sadly and too well. But
would not such a measure, if it were pos-
sible, fill the country with a discontented,
unruly, dangerous class? and also check im-
migration?”
"It might now, because of the change;
but if at first you had welcomed the hungry
and the oppressed to food and freedom and
no more, do you think they would not have
been happy and content?
>>
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
349
"Happy enough; but demagogues would
have soon taught them discontent."
"Then you should meet your demagogues
and beat them at their own weapon
speech. But in any case, this matter of
immigration is one the bearing of which I
am surprised to find that even the thought-
ful men among you do not see.”
"Not even the old native American
party? — which, by the way, was the most
genuine and spontaneous outgrowth of true
patriotism that I have ever heard of."
"No. Their view of the question and
their purpose, so far as I can discover, were
only political. Immigration has affected
not only your politics but your society."
66
My dear Toppingham, where can you
have been?"-a question which a decent
American is often tempted to ask of a Brit-
ish critic.
66
Pray don't flare up, Mr. Washington
Adams. I don't mean your personal soci-
ety; the people around you here, and the
society elsewhere to which your letters gave
me access. That society is notably repellant
of foreigners, suspicious of them, unless
indeed they are very distinguished. I mean
350
THE FATE OF
the general surface of society in the coun-
try, as it appears to an observer who is un-
interested in its various divisions, and igno-
rant of the invisible barriers by which the
separation is effected. It does not seem to
have occurred to any of your own critics.
that you could not go on through more than
half a century receiving yearly hundreds
of thousands (now summed into millions)
of the lowest and most ignorant classes of
Europe without suffering a social deteriora-
tion, except among your most reserved and
exclusive people. These immigrants be-
come citizens; they do business with the
average American; their children, num-
bered by millions, are what you queerly
call native born citizens'-Americans; the
Americans who most proudly flaunt their
Americanism; the Americans who, when
they get rich, as so many of them do, swarm
over Europe, and establish in Europe the
reputation of your country. You have told
me that there is no Americanism so ram-
pant as that of your naturalized American.
There is that of his children, by whom
it is surpassed. Now, as I have told you,
these people — with some admirable excep-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
351
tions I admit as a class, are the embodi-
ment of the most unpleasant and objection-
able traits that are attributed to your coun-
trymen. They have the worst manners, the
worst morals, the most presumption, the
least capacity of deferential consideration
to anything superior to themselves. Wher-
ever I went I found that the class regarded
as most dangerous was composed chiefly of
young men and women born of foreign
parents. They have none of the virtues.
of either an aristocratic or a democratic
form of society, and all the vices of both,
with a contempt of right and a defiance
of authority which, you must pahdon me
for sayin', belong peculiarly to the latter.
Strangely, too, they have what we call
the American tone of voice, more strongly
marked than I heard it among other classes.
Young men and women with Irish and Ger-
man names, and even the little newsboys
whose faces told their Irish birth were the
worst offenders I have found in this respect.
"Now these people, when they are pros-
perous, not only go over to Europe as rep-
resentative Americans, but they exercise a
direct daily influence upon your average
352
THE FATE OF
American society of the old stock, which
you told me, and I find correctly, was de-
cent, well mannered, capable of respect and
deserving respect. The consequence is de-
terioration. It is unavoidable. You cannot
have an alloy and preserve in the resultin'
mass the qualities of your superior metal.
Hence you are in a general way gradually
approachin' the type of Mr. Washington
Adams. He rises somewhat; you descend
somewhat. The result is a sort of Ameri-
can which I can't find very admirable, and
which I do not believe that you delight
in. Now the Washington Adams's and the
Waterstocks are becoming year by year
more and more powerful among the influ-
ences that mould your society. Society I
say, because I must use the word. But so-
ciety is organic; you are socially inorganic.
What you have is not society, but social
chaos."
"A cheering prospect your studies and
your observation lead you to hold up to me."
"Can't help that, my dear Humphreys.
Make what allowance you like for my prej
udices as a Britisher and a lord; but if I
speak at all I must tell the truth. And
-
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
353
now I come to your purely social matter,
and to you of the old stock. Perhaps you
wonder that, as I set out from you to visit
and observe them, I did not begin my ante-
mortem inquest with my opinion on them.
The reason was that, as an influence in the
country, they as a class count for so very
little, numerous as they are. By all rights
they ought to govern the country, and to
mould its society: by right of numbers; by
right of possession; by right of achieve-
ment, for it was they who made the coun-
try; by right of aristocracy, and grace of
God, for they are your aristoi. But they
don't. Why, I know not. That mystery
you must unravel for yourself. But that
they are not the governing class or power
in the country no observer can fail to see.
And yet they are its safety as well as its
substance; and its sweetness as well as its
strength. Wherever I found them, I found
in a remarkable degree the virtues and the
graces of a sound and respectable, if not
always very allurin', social life. You are
right about them, wholly right in all you
claimed for them. They it is, the Yankees
and the Virginians, who are the real Amer-
23
354
ТПЕ FATE OF
icans in the sense in which we use that word.
They are the salt of your earth. But my
good friend, some salt may lose its savor;
and this, your salt is beginning to do. Your
war, and the wealth of your western country
has scattered your people of the old stock
so broadly over the country, and the for-
eigners and sons of foreigners have stepped
so largely and so boldly into their places,
that as a distinctive power they have al-
most ceased to exist. Instead of the old
Yankee or Virginian who, however he might
hate the British,' was proud of his Eng-
lish blood (as well he might be; for there
is nothing good in your politics, your law,
your society, or your literature that is not
purely English; you are the refuge of the
oppressed simply because you are English;
your race is your salvation; and just in
proportion to your departure from the teach-
ings of your mother you have deteriorated)
instead of this man you are gettin' a
nondescript, who, havin' no past, has no
attachments, and who, knowin' nothin'
about race, denies that he is English, or
Irish, or German, and insists that he is an
American."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
355
"Yes, indeed; he will call sparrows that
have bred in this country for twenty gener-
ations English sparrows, but insist that he,
whose father was born in Ireland, or in Ger-
many, or he knows not where, is a true
born American. And why not? Did not
a very distinguished member of the House
of Lords once say to me that an American
was a man born in America."
""
“Do you never let a man repent?
"Yes; if he will make confession. But
let that go. And now the outlook?"
"Did I not say, when I began, that pre-
diction as to the future of your country is
impossible because the history of the world
affords no precedent to guide judgment?
In the early part of your civil war a stout
octavo volume appeared in England an-
nounced as Volume the First of the His-
tory of Federal Government from the Acha-
ean League to the Dissolution of the United
States of America' (I give the title from
memory of course) by one of the ablest his-
torical writers of the century. The second
volume of that great historical work has
never appeared; but its writer did appear
some years afterward as a lecturer in the
356
THE FATE OF
consolidated and prosperous country the de-
struction of whose government he had an-
nounced or predicted; have it as you
will. He had to learn that there was some
essential difference between the Achaean
League, and other federations, and the fed-
eration known as the United States of
America. He, with all his historic lore and
his great ability, was not ashamed, I be-
lieve, that he had to learn this lesson; and
I at least may do well to profit by his
example. Your position is one the like of
which could hardly be imagined. You pos-
sess, with little more cost or trouble than
the mere takin' it, a vast region as large
as Europe half a great continent. You
have wealth unbounded. You can, from
your mere superfluity, supply the civilized
world with food and clothin', gold and sil-
ver. You give away to your railway lords
richly productive land in parcels that make
some of the sterile duchies and kingdoms of
the past look like worn-out garden patches.
Into this country you receive yearly tens
and almost hundreds of thousands of immi-
grants all of whom are practically able-
bodied, and most of whom bring some money
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
357
with them. You divide this vast region into
smaller (but really large) commonwealths
or states, in each of which the government
of the personal relations of life is isolated
and independent, if not sovereign, while at
the same time a citizen of one of these is,
or at his will may become, a citizen of the
other, with all the rights of birth or legal
naturalization. The relations of these states
or independent governments with each other
and the relations of the whole to the world
at large you commit to one general govern-
ment, which represents you to the world,
and under which you are not Massachusetts
men, or New Yorkers, or Virginians, or what
not, but Americans. And yet you really
have no foreign relations, and are to all
intents and purposes forever insured against
a foreign war. I can only repeat that the
like of this anything to be in any way
compared with it was never seen before;
and the more a man has studied history or
politics, the less will he be likely to predict
its ultimate issue. It would seem as if the
control of such a vast country with its con-
flictin' interests, its varied population, and
its many independent governments could
358
THE FATE OF
not remain under one central power when
population shall have become dense and soci
ety more highly organized. But your polit-
ical contrivance of universal citizenship, and
the new bonds of this century, the railway,
and the telegraph, may knit you more firmly
together than czarism has thus far knit all
the Russias. At present you are hopeful and
confident even to boastfulness; and no won-
der; for you are rich and strong and pros-
perous. But to us of older and more highly
organized societies you have somewhat the
look of a huge, loose-jointed young giant,
hardly more than well in gristle, who may
prove weak in the knees and the loins before
he knits into maturity. The condition of
your society, due in great measure to the
very causes of your prosperity, I have told
you plainly that I regard as deplorable,
and so do all the best of you here, and
not only deplorable, but dangerous. You
are saved from present danger by the fact
that your forty millions are scattered over
half a great continent, and that you have
land, and consequently food and possible
competence and even wealth, for any one
that will take it. If you had thirty millions
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
359
of such people as yours in one little country
like England, in New England for example,
and under one government that controlled
your personal relations as well as your gen-
eral affairs, in ten years you would be flying
at each others' throats. As it is, seeing as
I do, the present safety there is in your
wealth and your expansion, I yet believe it
would have been better for you morally and
socially that you had never owned an acre
beyond the Mississippi, that an emigrant ship
had never reached New York, that you had
never found a grain of gold or silver on your
soil, and that you were divided into three
republics, East, West, and South. Your so-
ciety then would have developed itself nor-
mally, by natural growth. Man does not
live by bread alone; and now that is the
end of your endeavor.- What think you?"
"That the patient in an ante-mortem
examination sometimes recovers, and lives
happily to a hale old age. -
What you say
may be true," said Humphreys doubtfully;
“but I can't believe it. The problem per-
plexes many of us sorely. But if what you
have said is true, where shall we look for
the divinity that shapes our ends?' '
6
360
ТПЕ FATE OF
"I did not suppose you would believe it.
But be sure of this: at present your ends.
are only 'rough-hewed.'
"To drop metaphor," answered Hum-
phreys, "and Shakespeare's rather over-
worked aphorism, which my experience
of life has led me to doubt, our main ob-
ject, if not our end, is very clear. You in
Europe are continually asking, 'What is
the use of America? What is America
for? She develops nothing new.' Here is
my answer. The function of this country
and its people is the diffusion among all
men of material good; and this function is
performed for the whole world, not only by
our production and distribution of wealth
and well-being, but by our example, and by
the spirit of our social institutions."
66
Perhaps you're right; and well-
yes, it is a useful and an honorable function.
-And now, good-night. I know we've
kept Margaret waiting."
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
361
XIV.
EXIT MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
WHEN Humphreys entered Margaret's
room he found her awaiting him in an atti-
tude and a condition which showed that her
night toilet had been interrupted by her
impatience for his coming. She was in her
dressing-gown, and her hair, half down, lay
tumbling about her white throat like dark
waves around a marble tower. He thought
at once of the day when he first saw her,
and her little cousin pushed off her hat and
raised such another silken storm.
"So here you are at last, you faithless
creature! Grown tired of me already. I
see how it is. If I'd only been wise, and
not thrown myself away. I, Margaret Duf-
field of Milton-Duffield." She dragged him
to a chair and sitting upon his knee laid
her hands upon his shoulders and looking
into his face with eyes beaming happi-
ness and love, said "Oh, you mercenary
362
THE FATE OF
wretch! You shabby fortune hunter! You
base deceiver of the confiding female! And
it has come to this?" Then the arms
went round his neck and the noble lips gave
other evidence than words of what was pass-
ing in her heart.
"Margery, dear Margery,
mad?"
are you
"Yes, mad with happiness, and love, and
joy. We're going back to England to be
happy together all our lives, are n't we
darling? For although I had nothing when
you won me and married me, now I've
Milton - Duffield tacked to my petticoat;
and you've got to take it, because you took
me; and in the old phrase, the land and
the live-stock go together.'
6
"For heaven's sake, Margery, speak a
little sober sence."
92
This she then did, and told him her
brief story. As he knew before, on her fa-
ther's death, leaving her his only child, his
landed estate went to a far away and quite
unknown cousin, an elderly man who had
one son about thirty years of age. This
young man, it was assumed, would soon
marry and have half a dozen children. But
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
363
his tastes were low, and his habits gross
and irregular. He postponed marriage and
lived a life of debauchery. Not long before
Lord Toppingham was about to leave Eng-
land for America, this man's horse fell
upon him in the hunting-field and his thigh
bone was splintered. Had he been sound
and temperate, he would have done well; but
inflammation set in, and there was quickly
an end of him. His father was a feeble
man of seventy years of age with no other
heir; and Margaret, as her father's only liv-
ing child was heiress presumptive of Milton-
Duffield. It was this event that had caused
Lord Toppingham to anticipate his pro-
posed departure from England. But when
he arrived at Boston he found matters in
such a state that he refrained from men-
tioning the news at once. Colonel Water-
stock's affair; its effect upon Margaret, and
the natural apprehension that she might
feel it still more than she did; the impending
ruin of Humphreys, with the hope of com-
plete recovery of his fortunes, — to this
complication of troubles, Lord Toppingham
feared at first to make any exciting addi-
tion. Having reserved his news for a few
364
THE FATE OF
days, after his long conference with Hum-
phreys upon his affairs, he decided to keep
the whole matter to himself until the ques-
tion of the shares was settled. Meantime,
through his solicitor in England, he had
effected an arrangement with the feeble
old gentleman now in solitary possession
of Milton-Duffield, by which, in considera-
tion of an annuity, he gladly retired from
the estate, and executed a release of the
rents. Margaret could take possession im-
mediately.
When she had finished this story the glee
had faded out of Margaret's bright eyes;
for as she told it, Humphreys' face grew
graver and even sadder than it was when
she began; and as she ended he said, al-
most mechanically, "I'm so glad, for you,
Margery.'
""
"For me? for me? And why not for
you?" Then looking at him a moment fix-
edly, "Ah, I see how it is. My poor dar-
ling, I see how it is." And she put her
arms about his neck and
laid her head
upon
his shoulder, and rocked herself to and fro
as if it were she that was in trouble. At
last, after a silent while.
“ You'll go,
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
365
[[י
go, won't
Mansfield, you
you, and live
with Margery in our dear old beautiful
home, that's yours now, yours? — See,
sir, see what you've been and gone and
done. You came down to Toppington
and fell in love with Margaret Duffield, a
poor girl, almost a dependent, who had n't
money enough to have a maid of her own.
She went trudging afoot about the country,
and you made her long to have you walk
with her; she played the pi-anner and you
made her heart yearn to have your heart
thrill with the same tones that thrilled hers,
and yet you said no word. All the more
you won her love; and then you saved her;
for yourself, you selfish creature; and al-
though you did have a hard time in getting
her, who suffered most, darling, who suf-
fered most? You married the poor girl,
and gave her everything that she had not,
and made her the happiest woman that ever
loved man-oh, so dearly, so
oh, so dearly, so dearly. And
now that she has Milton-Duffield for you
not that it's a very grand place, nothing at
all like the Priory, but just a fit home for a
gentleman like you nor a large fortune,
not so much as yours that you gave me a
366
THE FATE OF
.
right in-now that she has this, will you
refuse to make her happy by taking it, and
being its master, just as you took her and
are her master? — You'll come to our dear
old home with me, won't you?-See," with
a gleam of sauciness in her eyes, and then a
rosy hiding of her face upon his shoulder,
"you never were quite a real American
except when you played Mr. Washington
Adams; and now come home with me, so
that our boy for I'm sure it'll be a boy
-will be born a real Englishman. Does n't
the Bible say, 'a man shall leave his father
and his mother and cleave unto his wife?'
And don't you know" (in a little paren-
thetical tone), "I've always thought that a
strange maxim for an Oriental people, with
what you bearded creatures euphemistically
call patriarchal institutions?
But your
father and mother have gone; you've no
brothers, and only that one sister away off
in - Millwater, is it, or Milkwater? - Oh,
thanks, Milwaukee, that you don't see once
a year, and who," with a little droop of the
corners of her mouth, "although she's a
very excellent woman I'm sure, is n't ex-
actly a woman that you pine after. You've
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
367
no home to break up. Come to one that
stands ready for you, with a wife in it
who was born there, and her fathers, for
such a long, long while. What was that
pretty Latin adage you told me of the other
day, ubi uxor ibi domus? Am I right?
Put it in practice now. I'm going to live
at Milton-Duffield; that is," laying her
cheek submissively upon his hand, — “if
you'll let me, and if you will live there too."
>
The end of all this was plain enough.
Humphreys had hardly a choice. His un-
fortunate speculations had greatly simplified
his affairs; and such arrangements as were
necessary were easily made. Where noth-
ing is, there is little to be done. Lord Top-
pingham went back at his appointed time,
their harbinger.
In the course of a few months Hum-
phreys sat again with Margaret on the deck
of an ocean steamer, and with solemnity,
but, as he confessed to himself in the silence
of his heart, with no such grief as hers
in like case, saw Montauk light sink into
the Atlantic, as he left the land where his
people had lived a few generations, for one
in which they had lived for more than as
+4
368
MANSFIELD HUMPHREYS.
many centuries; and with no diminished
love for the memory of the vanishing New
England of his youth, he found, happily for
himself, a new home in the old home of his
fathers.
THE AUTHOR'S
APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK.
AN APOLOGY.
THE little of this book which was published in Edin-
burgh under the title "Mr. Washington Adams in Eng-
land" has been made the subject of so much and such
diverse comment, public and private, that, to those at
least who honored it with attention and remark, an ex-
planation of its occasion and its original purpose may
not be unacceptable. All the more am I tempted to such
an explanation because of my surprise that such a trifle
- begun as a mere broad burlesque should have been
found worthy of so much consideration. Moreover, any
one who does not care to know the why and the how of
the thing's existence may lay my book down at this line,
and read no further. To those whose inclination is other-
wise I venture, however, the suggestion that, before they
do read further, they look over the selection which the
publishers have made from the opinions expressed upon
the first three chapters as they were put forth (to the
surprise of the writer, although with his consent) in their
pretty Edinburgh dress.
Some apologies aggravate offense: always those which
show the unjust their injustice; for they will be un-
just still. This apology is one of that kind. I fear there
are few that it will please; —only those who prize truth
above all other things. At home " every true Ameri-
can" (whatever that may mean) will find something in it
372
AN APOLOGY.
1
to dislike; abroad, among those who may look at it,
Conservatives will see in it what offends their prejudices
and opposes their wishes, and Liberals, what disproves
their theories and disappoints their hopes. The writer
will fare like the bat, who was persecuted by the birds be-
cause he was a beast, and by the beasts because he was a
bird. He will be content, however, if, like his prototype,
much maligned for blindness, he is able to find his way
through what, to greater and wiser creatures, is obscurity.
Accident gave a semblance of propriety to that pub-
lication in Scotland; for there was written eighty years
ago a book, "Memoirs of an American Lady," which
gave a remarkably truthful picture of society in the rural
districts of New York at the close of the last century.
The successors of this book have been so unlike it, both
in its truthfulness and in its kindly spirit, that it looms
up like a distant landmark, showing how far the British
critic of the present has drifted from that of the past, al-
though through a time not longer than the life of a strong,
well aged man. Conspicuous among the latter are two
writers, the bearers of one name, Trollope, the later of
whom (among the other notable things done by him) sus-
tained Mr. Francis Galton's ingenious and impressively
urged theory of heredity by the spirit in which he treated
"America and the Americans." Passing, at present,
over the manifestation of that spirit, I shall take as my
starting-point the following passage which impressed me
much on my meeting with it in one of his later novels,
•
•
"Paul Montague's father and mother had long been dead.
The father had been a barrister in London, having perhaps
some small fortune of his own. An uncle of his, a
younger brother of his father, had married a Carbury, the
younger sister of two, though older than her brother Roger.
This uncle many years since had taken his wife out to Cali-
1 By Mrs. Grant, of Laggan, published at London in 1808.
AN APOLOGY.
373
fornia, and had there become an American."
Live Now, c. 6.
The Way we
Am I dull, or perverse, or even crotchety, when I say
that the condition of mind out of which this passage
came perplexes me sorely; indeed, that I cannot under-
stand it at all? If a man who is the son of an English
squire, can, after he has attained maturity and married in
England, go to California and become an American, I
must ask some person more capable than I am of appre-
hension and definition to tell me what an "American" is.
That a Parsee may become a British subject, a German
a citizen of France, or that a Scotchman or an English-
man may be by birth or adoption a citizen of the United
States, we can all see readily. But I never heard a sane
and tolerably well informed person speak of a Parsee's be-
coming an Englishman, or of a German's becoming a
Frenchman. What then does the word "American"
mean when it is used as Mr. Trollope used it? I confess
that I cannot find any meaning for it at all; and I have
also to say that I have never been able to find any person
who was able to give it a meaning which, even upon brief
consideration, was satisfactory to himself, although I be-
gan my inquiry, publicly as well as privately, more than
twenty years ago.
There is a weekly journal published in New York
marked in some of its articles by that union of subtlety,
strength, and breadth of view which are the intellec-
tual characteristics of the race to which it is addressed,
and which is called "The American Hebrew." That title
I can understand; and it seems to me a very good one,
1 It should be needless to remark that families may do this
in the course of generations of residence and intermarriage,
like the McMahons in France and the Bentincks in England;
and also to say that this is not at all to the purpose.
24
374
AN APOLOGY.
- clear and descriptive. It means a Hebrew born or domi-
ciled in America. There is another weekly newspaper also
published there, which is called "The Irish American ;
a title which I admit again that I cannot understand, al-
though the phrase is commonly used, and since the dyna-
mite times is commoner than ever, particularly in Eng-
land. An American Irishman is an apprehensible crea-
ture; although he is not so often apprehended, or, as
Dogberry would say, comprehended, as some of us wish
he was when he uses dynamite. But if the substantive
"American has any limiting sense at all, an Irish Amer-
ican is simply an impossibility. An Irishman is an Irish-
man, whether he is a British subject or a citizen of the
United States; a Scotchwoman is a Scotchwoman, an Eng-
lishman is an Englishman, whether a British subject or
not, whether living in Australia, in India, in Canada, in
England, or the United States. There are British English-
men and American Englishmen, millions of them both;
and the assertion is no new one; for I made it and urged
it twenty-two years ago. There are those, doubtless,
who will say that this is an attempt to
แ
distinguish and divide
A hair 'twixt south and southwest side;"
but if it be so said, I am content. The difference between
the south and the southwest side is just the difference
between south and southwest; difference enough to lead
in half an hour's divergence from a hair's-breadth to
wreck and ruin. Hamlet was mad only north-north-
west.
The unthinking, undiscriminating way in which this
subject is treated, even by those who are not ignorant and
from whom the truth and consideration of truth might
1 National Hymns. New York, 1862, pp. 24-26 and
passim.
AN APOLOGY.
375
be expected, is exemplified in the following passage writ-
ten by a scholar and the son of a scholar, James Up-
ton, Fellow of Exeter, Oxford :—
"If we turn our eyes to our own country, we cannot go
farther than the invasion of Julius Cæsar without being im-
merged in legends and romances. But even in that late
period of arts and sciences our British barbarity was so very
notorious, that our inhospitality to strangers, our poverty
and meanness, and our ignorance, made us contemptible to
the Romans.” · Critical Observations on Shakespeare, Book
i. sec. 4.
And a greater than Upton works the same confusion,
and uses our" and us "in the way to which attention
is emphatically called in the passage just quoted. Mil-
ton, in his "History of Britain," writes, referring to the
early inhabitants of Great Britain,
"And this they do out of vanity, hoping to embellish and
set out their history with the strangeness of our manners,
not caring in the meanwhile to brand us with the rankest
note of barbarism." 1— History of Britain, Book VI.
Turning to the light literature of our own day we find
Grenville Murray, in the dedication of his "Side Lights
on English Society" to the Queen, saying:
""
Thirdly, as an Englishman, I venture to submit for the
consideration of the Head of our race a careful study of some
of the most important aspects of English society, as at pres-
ent constituted."
Now if Milton and Upton had given the subject even
1 Here caring is used in the sense "being careful," "be-
ing cautious." Observe, too, the word note used more than
two hundred years ago in a sense which many persons, in-
cluding so distinguished a critic as Matthew Arnold, seem to
think was transferred from theological polemics to literature
by Cardinal Manning.
376
AN APOLOGY.
a brief consideration, they would have seen that they and
their fellow Englishmen, whom they included in their us
and our, were in no way concerned in what was said of
the inhabitants of Britain in the time of Julius Cæsar, in
no way affected by it. Those people were not English-
men but Britons, Celts, whom our English forefathers
removed from the soil just as we have removed the real
American races from the soil we now possess; we having
been even more thorough than they. Our and us have
no proper place in Milton's nor in Upton's plea; nor had
they any cause of offense. Just as preposterous is it for
Mr. Grenville Murray, "as an Englishman," to address
Queen Victoria as the head of our race." The Queen
is at the head of the British government, at the head of
society in the British dominions, but with the English
race she has probably as slight relation as any woman ever
born in England. She is German, and nothing more;
her connection even with the Scotch being the tenuous
one that her great-great-great-grandfather was grandson
through German women to James I., since which time if
any other than German blood has passed into her family
strain, it is inappreciable. One of the most striking illus-
trations that I remember of this subject (in some London
journal) is a remark upon the English-seeming of Mr.
Henry James the novelist, coupled with another (intended
as confirmatory), upon his likeness to the Prince of Wales.
Now Mr. Henry James is English, whereas His Royal
Highness is German pure and simple; and, if I have
been correctly informed, notwithstanding his birth and
breeding in England, he betrays, to a nice ear, his Ger-
manhood by his speech.
A matter not without significance, this that we have
been briefly considering; yet let us brush aside the ques-
tion of race, although it is the most important one in the
history of the world, of government, of religion, of so-
1
AN APOLOGY.
377
ciety, of art, of literature, and let us admit that on the
continent of North America, between the Great Lakes
and Mexico, there are some forty or fifty millions of peo-
ple, who, although nine tenths of them are of Eng-
lish blood, while some are Irish and others Germans,
and who, although they of English blood are they whose
fathers won the country from savagery and achieved its
independence, and framed its government, and they of
Irish and German blood are either immigrants or the
children of immigrants- let us admit that, although this
is the case, these forty or fifty millions of people must be
called "Americans;" not because the name is proper to
them, nor because it is at all descriptive of them, but be-
cause it is convenient to other people to jumble and lump
them together under this name.
This admitted, how are these people to be judged so-
cially? Who are to be taken as the representatives of
the society which in the course of two centuries and a
half was formed by their character and their circum-
stances? Should they be the great body of those whom
they themselves regard as decent, respectable, decorous
folk, persons who in the various walks and conditions of
life, the humbler as well as the higher, are, in what Mr.
Matthew Arnold well styles conduct, accepted in that so-
ciety as of regular standing? Should they be such as
these among the nine tenths who are the representatives
of those who through two centuries of effort framed the
government and the society of the States and the Union,
or such as these regard as foreigners, or as grotesque
in manners and unsound in morals?
Leaving this question here unanswered, let us consider
the manner and the spirit in which judgment has been
passed upon these people publicly by the literary represen-
tatives of those who were nearest to them in blood, in lan-
guage, in religion, and in the structure of society. We all
378
AN APOLOGY.
know in a general way what that manner and that spirit
have been from Mrs. Grant's day until the present time,
when there arc appearing signs of a modification, al-
though not of a thorough change, in both. Conspicuous
among the latest writers upon this subject is one who
has no sympathy, and who we may be sure would never
have had sympathy, with the attitude or the methods of
his predecessors, a British critic whose social position
at home, whose high culture, and whose acquaintance
with society, in all classes of the whole world, are exccp-
tional. Lord Ronald Gower, in his recently published
"Reminiscences," has some pages giving his Impressions
of the Americans, the following extracts from which are
of interest, and in some passages much to our present
purpose:
1
"You have asked me to give you in a few lines my im-
pression of the American people. This sounds to me like ask-
ing a fly to give his impressions of the mind of a man on
whose head he has alighted. . . . In New York I saw but
little of the society of that place, not caring for dining out or
for calls of ceremony, and passing my days in walks about
the town and my evenings at the theatre or in a theatrical
club in Union Square. Not being a personage, and not
caring to appear in a white tie aud fine linen every evening,
• •
1 Some of my readers may like to know that Lord Ronald
Sutherland-Leveson-Gower is a son of the late Duke of
Sutherland (his mother was that noble and beautiful Duchess
who was Mistress of the Robes to Queen Victoria) a nephew
of Lord Ellesmere, and of Lord Morpeth (Earl of Carlisle),
brother-in-law to the Duke of Argyll and to the late Duke of
Westminster, and uncle to the Marquis of Lorne; an Eton
boy, a Cambridge scholar, a Member of Parliament, a student
of art, a sculptor of no mean ability, and a man who has from
his early youth been familiar with the most cultivated and
elevated circles of England and the continent of Europe.
AN APOLOGY.
379
and having wished to see social life in the American city not
as a guest but as a traveler, I think I can more impartially
judge of what would be the impression made on a cosmopoli-
tan than had I traded on being an Englishman with a handle
attached to my name, as probably most Britishers with such
an impediment would do. I mixed with all classes. .
Wherever I went I found all classes of Americans not only
civil but highly civilized, as compared class for class with
the English; not only amiable, but as a rule, kind and cour-
teous, and with rare exceptions, well-informed, well-bred, and
having more refinement of manner than any other people I
have ever come amongst. What struck me especially in New
York was the invariable civility shown by all classes of men
to women, whether the women rustled in silk or wore linsey-
woolsey or homespun ; 1 however crowded the car or the foot-
way, room was at once made for a lady. Does not this some-
what contrast with the surly, grumpy incivility that is shown
to the fair sex in our public carriages and streets? This po-
liteness is not, as in a neighboring country to ours, mere lip
and eye civility, but arises I believe from a mutual and intui-
tive good-breeding, with which, as I have said before, Ameri-
cans of every class are endowed.
"For instance if one entered a club or hotel, one was not
met by those assembled with a 'Who the Dash is this person
whom none of us know? and what the Dash does he here ?
sort of lock; nor, if one entered into conversation with some
one in a railway car or steamer, was one greeted with that
truly British stare which in this country of insular prejudice
and arrogant assumption conveys, as plainly as words, the
question, 'What the mischief do you mean by speaking to
me without an introduction ?'
•
"I mixed thus with all classes, and spoke to all with whom
I came in contact, and in no single instance did I meet with
anything but perfect civility - the civility of equals, which
1 A figure of speech on the part of our kindly visitor. I
am sorry to say that no woman in New York, no matter how
lowly her condition, wears linsey-woolsey or homespun.
380
AN APOLOGY.
is, after all, the truest. I admire with all my heart this great
people, our brothers, who although we have for so many years
presumed to treat them as poor relations, are in some forms
of common courtesy and general politeness far superior to
ourselves.
"I grant that the Americans we meet on the continent of
Europe are often offensive in manner, and give a very un-
favorable impression of their country both to foreigners and
to Englishmen ; but believe me, these are the exceptions. As
a rule they are those who have inherited or made fortunes
which they know not how to spend, and therefore come over
to the Old World, which they astonish with their vagaries
and extravagances. But it would be most unjust to judge
the American people by these units. What Englishman but
regrets, and is heartily ashamed of his fellow-countrymen
and women whom he meets on the boulevards of Paris, on
the Rhine steamers, or in the galleries of Rome? 'Where,'
he cries, 'do these originals come from? What corner of
England has produced such frights? Great heavens! to
think that they should belong to us!... It would be as un-
just to judge of all English men and women by such types
as to think that the Americans resemble the American who
certainly is not an agreeable feature in an Alpine scene or
an Italian church, and yet this is precisely the injustice we
English have dealt out to our great kinsmen ever since the
War of Independence." — My Reminiscences, vol. ii. 2d ed.,
Lond. 1883; pp. 257-262.
It is not because of the opinion expressed by the writer
that this passage is here quoted. Pleasant as it is to all
men, who are not churlish on the one hand or cynical
on the other, to be liked by those with whom they are
brought in contact, the view of his subject presented
by Lord Ronald Gower will impress his American read-
ers chiefly by its novelty on the part of a British writer,
and by its simple, hearty frankness. Nor shall I refrain
myself from saying that, according to my experience and
AN APOLOGY.
381
observation, his opinion of "Americans" is somewhat
too general, and is too indiscriminatingly favorable, and
that his condemnation of his own countrymen upon the
point of manners is too sweeping. It tempts me to repeat
what I have said elsewhere (to the surprise of some of
my British critics) that nowhere in England did I meet
the surly, insolent Englishman upon whom Lord Ronald
and other critics of British society have animadverted;
and that only once was I spoken too with any semblance
of incivility, and that was by a 'bus conductor whom I
had stopped in full career for nothing. The very few
examples of British arrogance and insolence that I have
met with were outside of England; two of them, I am
sorry to say, were in my own house; but the actors in
these were men who, although not unknown to the world,
Lady Toppingham would hardly accept without demur
as gentlemen, and whom Captain Surcingle might have
described as "lit'wawy persons, or somethin'." I shall
also express my regret that Lord Ronald Gower did not
see more of true household life among people of long and
well established position (some of them rich, but most
of them far from being so), in New York, New England,
and the region surrounding Philadelphia. Had he, fol-
lowing his clever intuitive perception, done as Lord Top-
pingham did, and, dropping what he calls the impedi-
mental handle to his name, gone among such people
simply as Mr. Gower, visiting them in an informal, soci-
able way, he would have known them then as few or
none of his countrymen who have written about "the
Americans" have known them; and the criticisms of an
observer so socially experienced, accomplished, and so
candid, would have been both important and interesting.1
1 I wish to say that I did not see Lord Ronald Gower's book
until April 27th of this year, some weeks after the foregoing
pages had left my hands and were partly printed.
382
AN APOLOGY.
Lord Ronald Gower's remarks are interesting to me
chiefly for these reasons:-
His singular admission that his giving an opinion upon
America and the Americans after a visit of a few weeks
is like a fly's giving his opinion of the brain of a man on
whose head he has alighted: very graphic, very suggest-
ive, and in a British traveler, of astonishing novelty and
perceptivity:
His recognition of an obligation of personal present-
ableness, if he did go into society in America, even as a
private and unfêted person; an obligation which severer
critics of "American" culture and conduct than he is have
not felt:
His unconsciously naif use of the term Britisher,
which, as I have pointed out, is constantly applied by his
countrymen to themselves with the apparent assumption
that it is applied to them in America, where according to
my observation it is never used, and never heard, unless
as a quizzical quotation of British error:
His recognition of the right and reasonableness of not
considering "the Americans" all in an undiscriminated
lump, but of comparing them "class for class with the
English." Another singular and heretofore unheard of
proposition:
""
Ilis recognition (kindred to that above) that, although
there may be found in Europe "Americans in fine
clothes and with money to spend, who are as unpleasant
as some British travelers also to be seen there, it would
be as unjust to accept the former as the latter as types
of the society of their respective countries :
Finally, his admission as to "Americans" made
with that frank apologetic tone which (in our country at
least, and I gladly believe in England too) distinguishes
the man who is a gentleman to the core, and even gives
him pleasure, when he is conscious of having done a
|
AN APOLOGY.
383
wrong—that his countrymen have for “ so many years
presumed to treat them as poor relations," and that an
undiscriminating misrepresentation of them is "the in-
justice we English have dealt out to them ever since the
war of Independence."
Lord Ronald Gower's book was written in ignorance
of mine no less than mine in ignorance of his; but in
writing these passages he had his eye momentarily upon
my objective point. Indeed, so complete is his admis-
sion, and so competent is he to make it, that I feel that I
might here lay down my pen. But it may be better to
make a clean breast once for all, and, before turning to
British criticism of another strain, to give my readers
the greater part of a letter addressed to me apropos of
the Washington Adams part of this book, by a New York
woman, of whom, as her name remains unknown except
to me, I may say that if there be a living Englishwoman,
who in mind, in person, and in manner more completely
embodies the ideal of nobility, I was not happy enough
to see her, or her portrait, or to hear of her. My corre-
spondent, after citing in the course of her letter a depre-
cating comment, in a Liberal London journal, upon “the
political and social degradation of his fellow-country-
men" revealed by the writer of "Mr. Washington Ad-
ams," remarks upon it thus; quite, it will be seen, in the
strain of the nephew of Lord Ellesmere and Lord Car-
lisle, of whose book she was as ignorant as I was :-
•
NEW YORK, 22d February, 1884.
Degradation of your countrymen is good! Emigrants
and their children are no countrymen of mine; and it is time
the American (so-called) should have his place defined. All
over the continent last summer I saw young people just one
remove from Ireland and Germany, rich, ignorant, loud,
vulgar, passing among the people around me, side by side
with my daughter, for American!
384
AN APOLOGY.
"I can understand now why so many Englishmen spoke to
me last year of your book, which I then had not seen. It
was evidently a sore thing to them."
[I cannot imagine why. Nothing was ever written in a
more kindly spirit to England; nor were England or Eng-
lish people in any sense its subject.] .
"Your book is singularly searching without seeming to be
so in purpose. The dinner-table talks, and the attacks upon
the guest the moment he becomes a guest, all intelligent
Americans can appreciate. No Englishman ever had an
American at his house that he did not rudely question him,
and call him to account for what he was pleased to call faults
and follies. I myself have sat at the table of an ex-British
minister, where I was the special guest, and have been told
bluntly that I 'spoke very good English for a Yankee;'
and not a frown, but a laugh went around."
[I must here differ from my fair correspondent as before I
differed from Lord Ronald Gower. Such inquisition and
such sneers I had no experience of in England. It is only in
private houses in "America," where they were guests by
their own seeking, that I have seen any of my British ac-
quaintances give occasion for these reproaches.]
"But I well remember, on the contrary, my gentle-man-
nered father's severely rebuking a young, heedless brother
who tauntingly reminded a somewhat captious English guest
that it rained always in England.
"I have lived for years among the English, and none of the
good qualities that they have can blind me to the fact that
ever since they were forced to let go our hand they have
never failed to represent us as ridiculous, vulgar, ignorant,
and repulsive. France and Germany get their habit of car-
icature, and learn a want of respect for us from England.
And their pretensions are so false! Even their hatred of
slavery was only a pretense. When we were driven into a
war to prevent its extension, whose side did they take? and
how? Read the 'Saturday Review' and 'Punch' of that
time!
"But I am more temperate in England among the people
AN APOLOGY.
385
there, than I am with you on paper. Don't think my influ-
ence (such as it may be) has been a bad or an undignified
one. It has not. But I confess that I have always had a
cold and cutting answer ready for these British taunts; and
these, I verily believe, are what the Englishman requires.
He is by nature unjust; but when condemned he is silent,
and even courts the condemner. If you could see my little
packs of 'love' letters from my enemies in England, I'm
sure you would say, Can this thing be?
"Ah! I wish Americans were more dignified and quiet, and
self-respecting; were more what our fathers were! I wish
street-habits were cleaner, and house-habits more lovable;
and I wish American women, with all their opportunities,
were braver and stronger, and yet more womanly, and knew,
above all things, how to keep the love once given them. In-
deed, I wish a great many things of my country people that
may never come to pass.
Truly,
M. C."
•
And now let us look at the pictures of "the Ameri-
cans " presented to the world by a British observer, who
was much more thoroughly acquainted with whatever is
good in them, both as to character and manners, than
Lord Ronald Gower could have been.
Mr. Anthony Trollope had, as I have intimated be-
fore, an hereditary tendency to malign and misrepresent
'America and the Americans," and he readily allowed
himself to be led by prejudice, and by resentment of the
undoubted wrong done to him on the score of his copy-
right, into excesses of injurious misrepresentation, all the
more wrongful and all the more injurious, because, like
his mother's, they were founded on fact. All lies are
welcome; all lies efficient; but no lies are so welcome and
so efficient as the malicious lie with circumstance. This
sort of misrepresentation is found in every passage of
Mr. Trollope's novels in which the subject is presented;
but I shall not be obliged to leave the book from which
I have already quoted, and which I read casually some-
25
386
AN APOLOGY.
time after “Mr. Washington Adams was published at
Edinburgh.
•
Let me say, in passing, that I know something of Mr.
Trollope's opportunities of observing society in " Amer-
ica," and of making himself acquainted with the man-
ners and the habits of thought and of speech, of those
who are regarded there as respectable, well-conducted
people. I know those among whom he chose to pass his
time; who were generally of no special wealth or great
distinction in any way, but who were fair representa-
tives of that large class here who owe to traditional re-
finement and social culture that "good-breeding” which
Lord Ronald Gower seemed to regard as "intuitive " in
"Americans of every class." I could name a lady with
whom Mr. Trollope was, or felt himself, on such terms,
that he favored her with his company on the day of his
last departure from New York, lolling his bulk upon the
sofa underneath the portrait of her great-grandfather (a
gentleman who would not have dreamed of so disposing
his person in a lady's drawing-room), and where he
thought it proper (somewhat to her surprise, as she in-
formed me) to lounge away the whole morning until he
took steamer for Liverpool. But was he on this, and other
like óccasions, making studies for "American " charac-
ters? Not so. This lady, her friends, her social circle,
and those of corresponding social circles in other places,
furnished no figures for Mr. Trollope's pages. As to Eng-
land, he could be so faithful a limner and reporter, that
sometimes he seemed to sink from the literary artist into
the interviewer and the personal sketcher of individuals.
He has photographed for posterity the better classes
upper and middle of England. But in drawing his
"American" figures, he turned from the decent, the re-
spectable, the people whose characters and manners made
them agreeable to him, whose tolerant kindness and good-
-
AN APOLOGY.
387
natured forbearance passed over his frequent (not ill-
natured) presumption, in consideration of the pleasure his
writings had given them, and drew, chiefly from gossip
and from newspaper paragraphs, only portraits of such
disreputable and notorious persons as could not obtain
entrance into any respectable American family.
Let us glance at the two figures which he presents, not
as sketches of exceptional and notorious persons, but
which he carefully, by suggestion and inference, holds
up as typical representatives of their countrymen and
country women.
As to his appearance Mr. Hamilton K. Fisker is thus
introduced:-
"The American was smoking a very large cigar, which
he kept constantly turning in his mouth, and half of which
was inside his teeth. . This wretched American with his
hat on one side, and rings on his fingers (!) . .
He was
gorgeously dressed with a silk waistcoat and chains, and he
carried a little stick." The Way We Live Now, chap. ix.
• •
As to what he was, by origin, in person and in charac-
ter, let these passages show:-
"The reader will not have thought much of Fisker on his
arrival in England. Fisker was, perhaps, not a man worthy
of much thought. He had never read a book. He had never
written a line worth reading. He had never said a prayer.
He cared nothing for humanity. He had sprung out of some
Californian gully, was perhaps ignorant of his own father
and mother, and had tumbled up in the world on the strength
of his own audacity." Idem, chap. xxxv.
"Fisker was not only unscrupulous himself, but he had a
thorough contempt for scruples in others. According to his
theory of life, nine hundred and ninety-nine men were ob-
scure because of their scruples, while the thousandth man
predominated and cropped up into the splendor of commercial
wealth because he was free from such bondage. He had his
388
AN APOLOGY.
own theories, too, as to commercial honesty. That which he
had promised to do he would do, if it was within his power.
He was anxious that his bond should be good, and his word
equally so. But the work of robbing mankind in gross by
magnificently false representations was not only the duty,
but also the delight and the ambition of his life." Idem,
chap. xcii.
As to his speech we are told that it was a fine, sharp,
nasal twang" (chap. ix.), and in language like this : —
"No doubt, Miss Melmotte-no doubt. I feel that quite
strongly. But what I meant to observe was this, that I cer-
tainly should not introduce a lady whom I aspire to make my
own lady to any lady whom a lady ought n't to know. I
hope I make myself understood, Miss Melmotte.'” Idem,
chap. xcviii.
Fisker having fallen, at a club, into the company of
some half-a-dozen sporting, gambling young English-
men, who, in spite of their loose habits of life, were gen-
tlemen by birth, breeding, and sentiment, and having be-
haved good-naturedly about money that he won, we are
told :-
"Not one there had liked Fisker. His manners were not
as their manners; his waistcoat not as their waistcoats. He
smoked his cigar after a fashion different from theirs, and
spat upon the carpet. He said my lord too often, and grated
their prejudices equally whether he treated them with famil-
iarity or deference. But he had behaved well about the
money, and they felt that they were behaving badly. .
"He's not half a bad fellow, but he's not a bit like an
Englishman,' said Lord Nidderdale, as he walked out of the
station." Idem, chap. x.
And this creature who eats his cigars while he smokes
them, who wears his hat on one side, and indues himself in
flashy waistcoats, who speaks with a sharp, nasal twang,
and talks about introducing " a lady whom I aspire to
1
AN APOLOGY.
389
make my own lady to any lady whom a lady ought n't to
know," who spits upon the carpet, who had never read a
book, and who, perhaps ignorant of his own father and
mother, had tumbled up out of some Californian gully,
who had no scruples himself and a thorough contempt
for scruples in others, and who gave himself up to the
work of robbing mankind by magnificently false repre-
sentations; this social polecat, who could by no contriv-
ance have obtained a second entrance into any one of the
decent houses in which Mr. Trollope sought, and found,
a welcome, is held up, not as a monstrous, grotesque, and
loathsome imagination of the novelist's, founded mainly
upon the reports that he found in newspapers of the beha-
vior of one or two notorious scoundrelly adventurers, but
as "the American ;" and he is contrasted with " an Eng-
lishman ;" this abstract Englishman being, as we see in
the passage just quoted above, represented by a peer, and
those who are, by birth and breeding, a peer's proper
companions. "Not like an Englishman!" Not, indeed,
like any Englishman that I ever met under a private roof,
I gladly admit; but no more like any decent "American."
But his case being "morals none, manners beastly," -
he is introduced as "the American."
The portrait has a companion of the other sex. If
two "Americans are introduced into one story by a
novelist of Mr. Trollope's skill and experience (he twice
favored "America" with his company for a considerable
time) we might reasonably expect that one of them would
be a decent, wholesome character, particularly in case of
one brought forward as a representative, and the only
representative, of "American women. But no; let
Winifred Hurtle, the " American woman," paint herself.
She fears that Paul Montague, who has won her love, is
about to throw her over, notwithstanding the wonderful
beauty of which she cannot but be conscious.
""
390
AN APOLOGY.
"He should marry her, or there should be something done
which should make the name of Winifred Hurtle known to
the world! She had no plan of revenge yet formed. She
would not talk of revenge — she told herself that she would
not even think of revenge till she was quite sure that re-
venge would be necessary. But she did think of it, and could
not keep her thoughts from it for a moment. He had
promised to marry her, and he should marry her, or the
world should hear the story of his perjury." Idem, chap.
xxvii.
•
•
"Then Mr. Ramsbottom had asked whether the lady was
a widow. There was a man on board from Kansas,' said
the fellow-traveler, 'who knew a man named Hurtle at Leav-
enworth,¹ who was separated from his wife, and is still alive.
There was, according to him, a queer story about the man and
his wife having fought a duel with pistols and then having
separated.' But there was a rumor also, though not cor-
roborated during his last visit to Liverpool, that she had shot
a gentleman in Oregon." Idem, chap. xxviii.
.. •
"But she, who was sometimes scorned and sometimes
feared in the Eastern cities of her own country, whose name
had become almost a proverb for violence out in the Far West,
how could she dare to hope that her lot should be so changed
for her? Idem, chap. xlvii.
Here is a bit of an interview between her and her
English lover, who cannot bring himself to espouse this
beautiful she-panther of the Rocky Mountains.
"No man has ever dared to treat me like that. No man
shall dare.'
"I wrote to you.'
"Wrote to me- yes! And I was to take that as suffi-
cient! No. I think but little of my life, and have but little
for which to live. But while I do live, I will travel over the
world's surface to face injustice and to expose it before I will
1 Leavenworth is nearly two thousand miles from Boston,
New York, and Philadelphia.
AN APOLOGY.
391
I
put up with it. You wrote to me! Heaven and earth
can hardly control myself when I hear such impudence!'
She clinched her fist upon the knife that lay on the table as
she looked at him, and raising it, dropped it again at a fur-
ther distance.
•
"Then he paused. 'Don't spare me,' she said. 'I know
what it all is as well as though it were already told. I know
the lies with which they have crammed you at San Francisco.
You have heard that up in Oregon I shot a man.
That is
no lie. I did. I brought him down dead at my feet.' Then
she paused, and rose from her chair, and looked at him.”
Idem, chap. xlvii.
The following touch of tenderness is from a letter to
the man she loves:
"You talk of compensation! Do you mean money? You
do not dare to say so, but you must mean it. It is an insult
the more. But as to retribution: yes. You shall suffer ret-
ribution. I desire you to come to me, according to your
promise, and you will find me with a horsewhip in my hand.
I will whip you till I have not a breath in my body. And
then I will see what you will dare to do; whether you will
drag me into a court of law for the assault." Idem, chap. li.
Well may Mr. Trollope make his Mrs. Pipkin say,
They do tell bad things about them Americans." And
who has told them with such mischievous intent and such
injurious effect as Mr. Trollope and his mother?
Strange, that the descendants of the little damsel whose
curtseying compliment to Washington Mansfield Hum-
phreys tells of (p. 46), strange, that they and their friends
among whom the traditionary manners which so pleased
Lord Ronald Gower prevail should not like-should, after
a century of such treatment, public and private, even be
touchy about, should indeed actually resent
-the presen-
tation of Winifred Hurtles and Hamilton K. Fiskers as
portraits of "the Americans!" These or none; for in
392
AN APOLOGY.
all British literature (until within the past year) none
other than these and their parallels have ever been
presented. Absurd, unreasonable, thin-skinned "Ameri-
cans"! incapable of enjoying pleasant little jokes at their
own expense, of bearing a little good-natured criticism.
Under-bred people, too, conscious of their own defects,
and always on the look-out for an affront! 1
Verily if they were ready to take offense they would not
have far to go for it, not so far as Mrs. Trollope's repre-
sentation of their "Domestic Manners; " not so far as her
son's novels, not even so far as the columns of the "St.
James Gazette" and of "The World; " not farther, often,
than their own tables. For example, there was at the
table of an acquaintance of mine a lady of birth and very
considerable social distinction in England, Lady A., let
us call her. She was the daughter of a peer and the
wife of the heir to a peerage, then bearing his courtesy
title. The party at dinner was small, and Lady A. could
easily see that her lord somewhat ostentatiously did not
touch his soup.
This, according to Yankee notions of
good-breeding, did not place his lordship in the best light
(although they would not require him to take much of
his soup if it was not to his taste); and there must have
1 It was not until after these pages were written and ready
for the press that, tempted by the mere beauty of the Mac-
millan edition of Charles Kingsley's novels, I bought it, and,
having previously read only "Westward Ho" and "Yeast,"
found in "Two Years Ago" the accomplished New York gen-
tleman Stangrave, an isolated figure in British fiction. Mr.
Kingsley came here, lived here a while, and really saw much
of society during his visit. Doubtless he saw not a few such
men as Stangrave; for not a few such are to be seen; but I
do not hesitate to admit that he is a type even rarer among
New York merchants than Lord Toppingham is among
among Brit-
ish noblemen.
AN APOLOGY.
393
been the consciousness of some such bidding of courtesy
in the breast of Lady A., who, sitting by her host's side
as her lord sat by that of their hostess, called across the
table with bland and elegant condescension, “Do take
some A.; it's not at all nasty!" As the question — which
is not of my raising, nor in any way of "American
origin it should be remembered, but was raised and has
been persistently pressed for many years by British critics
""
is as to difference of manners, I will at once confess
that the conduct of Lord and Lady A. was so different
from that which has been prevalent, as long as memory
and tradition tell, among Yankees and Virginians of any
moderate degree of breeding, that they were both at once
set down as very rude, ill-bred people, and all the more
rude and ill-bred because of their rank. That there have
been people called for some reason or other "Americans "
who behaved no better, is very likely; but we are speak-
ing on one side of a peer's daughter and a pcer's son, and
on the other of persons who, although without rank, have,
like the former, the best social position at home.
I willingly confess too that such exhibitions of social
amenity do not seem to be reserved for us alone by our
British cousins, who, on the contrary, bestow them upon
each other in like circumstances. For I find it recorded
in London of the late Mr. Abraham Hayward¹ that being
1 Mr. Hayward was the writer of some entertaining review
articles, miscalled essays. He was also a very popular "diner-
out." Dining-out has become almost a profession in England
among men who have no position or fortune, but who have
wit and tact, and who get on by ministering to the tastes, the
convivial pleasures, and the vanity of their social superiors.
Sometimes, as in Brummel's case and Hayward's (although
the two men were otherwise so unlike each other), they affect
a social despotism, and become capriciously tyrannical, being
alternately fawning and insolent. I saw him in London in
1876 — little, shambling, slovenly, white-haired, bland, with
subaudition of a snarl.
394
AN APOLOGY.
7
on a visit to the late Lady Waldegrave, he at dinner one
day exclaimed, "H'm! The same soup for three days!
Filthy stuff, too!" Without hesitation I admit that here
is a token (if it be a token) of a great difference of man-
ners. Such a speech as that by a guest at his host's
table has never been heard of within my range of obser-
vation or acquaintance with tradition in "America";
and, indeed, so far have we degenerated from that stand-
ard of manners that such a speech, or such a one as Lady
A.'s, would here exclude thenceforward the speaker from
the table and the house where it was uttered.
One English hostess, according to recent record, showed
the feeling and the spirit which would be common here
on such provocation. It is told in London that a gentle-
man who had recently and somewhat unexpectedly come
to a title and an estate dined at a house where his enter-
tainers were not persons of rank, but were persons of so-
cial consideration, and somewhat noted for elegant house-
keeping. He thought it proper to show dissatisfaction
with the dinner to which he had been bidden, and to call
in an aggressive way for this, that, and the other thing,
which he got, by his hostess's orders. When he came to
take leave, she said with sufficient distinctness to be heard
by those around her, "Good night, We are happy
to have had the honor of seeing you for the first and the
last time." Very well, that! at least so far as to the
deserts of the victim. The only wonder in the rude
"American" mind is that a person who could succeed to
a title and estate, and who could get into such a house,
should have given occasion for it.
A case not quite so bad but met in somewhat the same
way did occur a long time ago in "America." A certain
Mr. W., who attained a moderate distinction, and who re-
ceived no little attention in England, was, after trial here
for a while by people of social consideration in his own
AN APOLOGY.
395
country, set down as one who was not a gentleman and
had not in him the possibility of one. His invitations
ceased; but he, knowing what entertainments were to be
given, would sometimes, Brummel-like, present himself
uninvited, and carry his point by his own impudence and
the too tender consideration of his unwilling host and
hostess. One night at a large party, to which he had
been with great decision not invited, he presented himself
at high tide in the most gorgeous evening array.
papa!" softly exclaimed the daughter to her father who
was talking to the friend who told me the story, "here 's
Mr. W. 'T was no use. What shall we do?" "I'll
receive him," the father replied, and stepping forward,
he said, in a clear voice that attracted much attention,
"Good evening, Mr. W. This is indeed a most unex-
pected pleasure." W. never visited that house again, and
from that time fell steadily. This was certainly fifty
years ago. I may be wrong; but it seems to me that the
Yankee's sword at that distant time was quite as keen
as the London lady's of to-day, and a little more polished
and more daintily used. Strange that such people, and
the sons and daughters of such people, should show dis-
satisfaction when Hamilton K. Fisker, and Winifred
Hurtle, and Asa Trenchard, and the figure adumbrated
by Washington Adams, are held up to England and to all
Europe for three generations as "the American"!
Such incidents as those just related are trivial, and
their sober consideration would be a sort of trifling, were
it not that they bear strongly against that active disbelief
which is manifested, particularly by most British social
essayists, in the existence of a traditional social refine-
ment in "America." This is manifested equally by the
Tory and the Liberal writers of England. The former
(unwisely for their purpose) seem to find pleasure in the
belief that all classes of people in "the States" have
396
AN APOLOGY.
always been as lacking in good manners as they delight
in showing them to-day; the latter are sanguine in the
belief that the progress of democracy and social refine-
ment has been equal.
I remember having the honor of meeting at dinner a
long while ago a distinguished Liberal member of Parlia-
ment, who spoke with enthusiasm of the progress of re-
finement in America. I listened, as became me, almost
in silence to his remarks; but I remember observing, as
he spoke, that he had his feet upon the top of the high
wire fender before the fire, and that although he was the
special guest at the dinner where the dozen or twenty
gentlemen invited to meet him appeared as gentlemen
do on such occasions, he was not only in a rusty and
somewhat dusty street dress, but that his linen was, both
at his wrists and around his throat, conspicuously in
need of the ministrations of a laundress. Perhaps I was
wrong; but in my callow inexperience I asked myself
whether, although his opinion might be very valuable
upon a point of public policy, he was exactly the man to
criticise the manners, present or past, of the people whom
he had honored by his visit and his approval.
Disagreements of this sort between the manners of
some of our most distinguished British visitors and our
own have not been so rare as to give them at any time
the piquancy (I can hardly say the charm) of novelty.
A very eminent British author was invited to a dinner
in his honor by a friend of mine, a clergyman so distin-
guished that, although he was not an author, his name
was well known in England. The honored guest, who
was not a traveler in rapid movement, but was stopping
some time in New York, presented himself in a tweed
jacket, with the rest of his toilet conforming thereto, his
host and the other guests being in the evening dress
of gentlemen in England and "America." They would
AN APOLOGY.
397
as soon have thought of coming in wide-awake hats and
bang-ups" as in tweed coats. Dress is indeed a trifling
matter, except when it is a mark of the consideration in
which a man holds those whom he expects to meet, and
of his respect for their customs and habits of life. Where-
fore lapses of this kind are the more remarkable because
of the somewhat excessive punctiliousness of most Eng-
lish gentlemen in this respect at home, and according to
my observation even in " America." Lord Ronald Gower,
as he tells us, did not wish to trouble himself as to dress
during his brief visit; and he therefore showed his con-
sideration for "American" society by not accepting invi-
tations.
More recently we have seen a very distinguished visitor
from England; one who, before he had ever visited
America," thought it proper to lecture the world upon
the lack of culture in that unregenerate country, we
have seen this eminent apostle of social culture meeting
not only gentlemen but ladies at dinner in his street
dress, and disturbing all the calculations of his hostess
by what seemed a most capricious disregard of the ar-
rangements made in his honor and that of his party.
The attitude and the tone publicly assumed by this gen-
tleman makes it, I think, fitting and proper to remark,
in this place and with our present purpose, upon his man-
ner and bearing during his visit, of which, however, I
shall only say that those whom he seemed to regard as
his pupils were, in very many cases, astonished by his
blunt disregard, or ignorance, of what they had been
accustomed to regard as the courtesies of life; and more-
over by his conspicuous lack of that ease and seemliness
of manner which they had been accustomed to regard as
signs and fruits of social culture. This appeared not
only in his manner and in his speech, but even in the
notes he wrote, which were, to say no more, so unusual
398
AN APOLOGY.
and so awkward in phraseology, that they were often
made the subjects of unadmiring remark.
Now all this did, indeed, rather "astonish the natives"
who have not been accustomed to regard a familiarity
with second-rate French writers as the highest fruit of
culture, or a lack of it as the most unmistakable evi-
dence of Philistinism. Here, indeed, British critics may
well note a difference of manners and customs in the two
countries; provided, that this apostle of culture may be
taken as an example of the best British breeding, of
which I venture to express a doubt.
The gentleman thus referred to was, it is hardly nec-
essary to say, not Sir Lepel Henry Griffin, who is known
as the writer of some articles upon "America" in "The
Nineteenth Century," which were chiefly remarkable for
their union of commonplace truth (which no intelligent
person here would think of disputing), with much error,
the result of ignorance, misapprehension, and prejudice,
both general and particular. They are worthy of notice
only as distinguished examples of the kind of comment
to which the people of the United States have been ac-
customed for more than half a century from a certain
sort of British traveler. Sir Lepel, "a fly which had
alighted on the head" of the "American" people, did
undertake to give his impressions" of that over which
he had casually crawled. When a man steps forward to
speak with authority upon an important subject, and
volunteers public condemnation of a whole people, it is
proper to inquire as to his means of knowledge. There-
fore I sought information as to this gentleman's ac-
quaintance with the society which he so glibly and jaun-
tily discussed for the benefit of his countrymen — and
himself. His visit was short; only of two months' dura-
tion, if I remember him rightly; but although in that
time he could not have learned (even with candor and
AN APOLOGY.
399
a very good "coach ") anything of importance or in-
terest as to the structure and the working of society in
America," still, if he had taken the proper means, and
used them in the becoming spirit, he might have learned
a little. As it is, his articles are full of commonplace,
distinguished only by the bad spirit and the discourte-
ous manner in which it is set forth. The writer could
have done it all just as well dryshod at home. His opin-
ions are worthy of remark, because they are such con-
spicuous examples of that union of ignorance and pre-
sumption in which he has had predecessors but no rivals.
Sir Lepel Griffin had no means of knowing anything
about "American" society, in any sense of the word.
He saw nothing of it. Upon as thorough and careful an
inquiry as I could make, I have not been able to discover
in New England, New York, Pennsylvania, and the re-
gion round about, extending as far as central Ohio, in-
cluding a country more than five hundred miles square,
and eight of the original States of the Union, a single
person who ever met Sir Lepel Griffin in a respectable
private house, or who had heard, or could learn of his
having been in one. I believe that most of my readers
will agree with me that if the case had been appreciably
otherwise, it would have been impossible for me (particu-
larly as my correspondents themselves kindly made ex-
tensive inquiries) to have failed to come somewhere upon
his "trail." As to New York (the town), where Sir Lepel
seems to have passed most of his time, there is probably
not a man in it who would have been so sure to see him
if he had been known either in society, or among men
of letters, journalists or artists, as the writer of the fol-
lowing reply to one of my letters of inquiry:
"WASHINGTON SQUARE, May 6th, 1881.
"You ask me about Sir Lepel Griffin. Soon after his ar-
ticles began to appear, I made inquiries of a number of my
400
AN APOLOGY.
friends and could get so little track of him that I began to
suspect he had not been here under that name. But at last
I came upon an acquaintance in a banking-house who remem-
bered him. This makes it highly probable that his bar-
•
·
onetcy is, as they say, very recent.¹ . . .
“Yours,
C. K."
The only other trace of the gentleman that I have
been able to discover is in the following paragraph from
the "
Spectator" column of the "New York Evening
Post"
:
"A few men about town will remember Sir Lepel Griffin,
whose article in the 'Fortnightly' has attracted so much at-
tention, as an agreeable, genial man, rather fond of late hours,
and a somewhat close student of the principles of American
drinks; but nobody suspected that he was gathering materials
for anything worse than a headache, or that he would develop
such a bilious literary attack on his return home. From what
we knew of him he had a very 'good time' while here; from
what he writes, his evident 'mash' in Detroit, and the possi-
ble thirty guineas he got for his article, are the only pleasant
recollections he can have of America."
And yet a man so absolutely without knowledge, and
without even the means of knowledge, will undertake to
discuss and to condemn the society of which he is as igno-
rant as if he had never crossed the Atlantic. His arti-
cles, which are cleverly enough written, might be properly
entitled, Club, Theatre, Bar-Room, and Railway Glimpses
of New York, Ohio, and Illinois.2
1 My correspondent and his friends are in error. Lepel
Griffin is not a baronet, nor even a knight after the order of
Sir Philip Sidney or Sir John Falstaff. He derives his title
from his being a Knight Commander of the Order of the
Star of India.
2 Sir Lepel accounts for the superior beauty of the women
AN APOLOGY.
401
But this K. C. S. I., although conspicuous in his
union of ignorance and presumption, is not alone among
British travelers and critics in his lack of the means
of real knowledge of the subject of which they under-
take the discussion; the discussion? rather the de-
cision.
W
""
on
Generally, it is true that the European traveler — and
the more surely if he is British and a person of any note
- leaves "the States quite as ignorant of them and
their people on all essential points as he was before he
crossed the ocean, and with his ignorance at once confused
and confirmed and elevated into conceit by misapprehen-
sion of the very little of any real significance that he has
been able to observe. For the distinguished traveler sees,
through no fault of his own, indeed, very little that reveals
of Detroit by the fact that its northern position has caused an
intermingling of the superior blood of Canada with that of its
base Yankee stock. A conclusion worthy of its author. I
find another British traveler (Captain Collinson, 1861)
his first visit to this country, which lasted not quite two
months, and after passing part of one day at the place — say-
ing, "Detroit is one of those towns which has [sic] sprung
up with wonderful activity; and a quay crowded with ship-
ping extends all along the river-side, quite throwing into the
shade our village of Windsor, opposite." Now the truth is
that Detroit (so called from the fort de l'étroit - of the
straits) is one of the oldest towns in the Northern States. In
1778, when Washington was unheard of, fifty years before
Chicago existed, long antecedent to the founding of most of
the towns west of Niagara, and when Cincinnati had not five
hundred inhabitants, Detroit had more than two thousand.
Nor has there been any such beautifying intercourse (at least
to speak of) with "our village of Windsor, opposite," as our
K. C. S. I. was led by tender memories to suppose. A char-
acteristic instance, this, of the ignorance and unwisdom of
the British traveler.
26
402
AN APOLOGY.
1
to him the real condition of "American" society, of which
he touches only the surface at a few salient points. All
the vast level range below, not to say the yet underlying
strata, is hidden from his eyes. If he is a man of any
fame in politics, literature, art, or society, his arrival is
announced by the press; he is interviewed; he is seized
upon by various people, who, with social, business, or
other motives, wish to use him for their own purposes.
He is entertained, fêted, taken to this, that, and the other
'institution," where he is expected, and indeed almost
required, to "make a few remarks." He passes over a
great many miles of country shut up in a railway car, and
surrounded by his "party." He sees a big waterfall and
some mountains, a president and some governors,
waterfalls and mountains in their own way; and this
is all.
What does this teach him of the society of the people
among whom he has been ? Entertainments, parties,
receptions, among people of wealth (the only people with
whom he is likely to mix), are much the same upon the
surface in the superior circles of all Western nations.
And who learns anything about anything in formal “ 80-
ciety"? What do the obscurest and most commonplace
of us ever learn of each other at such gatherings? We
merely go through the parade in due form. Moreover,
these more or less distinguished strangers are on such oc-
casions here the principal guests. People are invited to
meet them. They are on exhibition to the other
guests, and the other guests are on exhibition to them.
What is the "meeting"? An introduction; a languid
hand-shake with some scores or some hundreds; a few
words, "delighted to meet," charmed," "hope," "al-
ways remember," and so forth; and this repeated a dozen
times in the principal places, and two or three times in
the minor places. Of what significance or instructive-
""
AN APOLOGY.
403
ness is this? It is not at such entertainments, or at for-
mal dinners, or even at less formal breakfasts, that peo-
ple are to be studied in their habits of life, their tone of
thought, their morals, or even their language. To do that
it is necessary to live among them, and to live among them
unremarked as a notability and a watchful stranger; to
see them when they are off their guard, and not when
you are on parade to them, and they are, or wish to be,
on parade to you. Probably the most ignorant man
about anything essentially and characteristically "Amer-
ican," who has visited the country, is Lord Coleridge; ex-
cept as to what may be seen in photograph and known by
report almost as well as in reality. I say this with high re-
spect and admiration for Lord Coleridge. The English-
man who, according to my observation, is most capable, of
all of his living countrymen, to write with understanding
about the country, told me that after having lived here a
year and a half he was obliged to throw overboard all his
theories and the opinions he had formed, and begin again
from the foundation. The author of that extraordinary
book "Asmodée en New York" (Paris, 1868), which is
filled from cover to cover with the products of long and
patient observation, keen penetration, and reflection, but
is deformed and debased by some monstrous misrepresen-
tations, says, "Pour connaître au fond le caractère du
peuple américain, il ne faut pas des semaines, il ne faut
pas des mois; il faut des années." (Page 498.)
Mr. Matthew Arnold showed wisdom in one respect at
least about America. He who, before he saw it, had un-
dertaken to gauge and to characterize "America," after
seeing it for some months, although only as a lecturer and
a distinguished literator can see it, concluded that he
had nothing to say that he was sure was worth saying.
He may be confident of this: that, with all his doubts,
his ignorance is far greater than he suspects. Mr. Henry
404
AN APOLOGY.
Irving would have done well to follow his example. His
"Impressions" will doubtless be pleasant enough for him
to write and for others to read. But what will they be
worth? Absolutely nothing; because Mr. Irving's visit,
unless it took some other form that that of a profes-
sional tour, could teach him nothing.1
Among our British visitors and critics Mr. Laurence
Oliphant is conspicuous for common sense, for perception,
for candor, and for some knowledge of his subject. He
had the advantage of seeing the country and the people
as they are, and without the deceptive effect of distorting
influences. He was neither a lord nor a lecturer; and he
lived here; how long I do not know, I had not the pleas-
ure of meeting him, but long enough to learn some-
thing, and to understand what he learned. He treated
us to some very pungent satire, well deserved. It is
1 Mr. Arnold has told a reporter that he will not write a
book on America, because, though he has had a very pleasant
visit, he is not sure that he has anything to say. This is an
excellent reason, and we are surprised that it does not occur
to more travelers in this country. . . . It requires pretty
long and patient study of any people, or else an extraordinary
amount of preparation and a genius for observation, to enable
a traveler to tell the world anything really worth hearing. —
New York Evening Post, March 10, 1884.
Mr. Matthew Arnold declared yesterday, just before sailing
for England, that he did not intend to write a book about
America. This statement indicates that Mr. Arnold's head
is quite level; for the temptation to perpetrate books on the
basis of fragmentary information and hasty views of people
and countries seems quite hard to resist. Many writers of
high standing have belittled themselves and their subjects by
doing it. It is greatly to Mr. Arnold's credit that he knows
how slight is the knowledge of the United States which he
has been able to obtain during his short visit. New York
Herald, March 9, 1884.
AN APOLOGY.
405
not generally known, I believe, that the writer of those
two papers in the "North American Review of May
and July, 1877, which professed to record the political
impressions of a Japanese traveler, and which, attracted
much attention, was Mr. Laurence Oliphant. They
showed that he could see the bottom of what he looked
at. And yet Mr. Oliphant, when he comes to treat
"American "character and manners concretely, and to
put language into the mouths of "Americans," blunders
sadly in simple matters. His "Irene Macgillicuddy"
was correct only as to the merest surface traits, and as a
human creature quite an impossibility, —in this country,
at least. And so, too, at least in all their distinctive
traits, were the otherwise charming "American" girls
in his recent very clever novel, "Altiora Peto."1
show this is not here pertinent; but to remark upon the
failure of this unusually well-equipped observer to repre-
sent the speech of "Americans" is proper to my present
subject. Of the personage meant to be most character-
istic in this respect, Hannah Coffin, it is only necessary to
remark, in the words of a discriminating critic in the
"New York Evening Post," that the young ladies “have
with them a terrible old companion, or chaperon, named
Hannah, who talks something between a Maine Yankee
and Buffalo Bill." Hannah is an impossible personage,
To
in "America,” at least; a grotesque; not even a carica-
ture of any actual living thing; and her talk is a mon-
1 Those who need no explanation of this ingenious title will
pardon one for those who do. Altiora peto is Latin for "I
seek higher things." It is the motto of the Oliphant family.
But Peto is an old English name, which is found in Shake-
speare's Henry IV.; and some of us remember Sir Martin
Peto, who was here some years ago. Altiora is enough like
a woman's name to be used for Mr. Oliphant's high-flying
heroine.
406
AN APOLOGY.
strous gabblement, made up of perverted phrases of peo-
ple who live thousands of miles apart. A woman who
acted and who talked as she does would be a character, a
show, a laughing-stock, in the remotest rural village in
New England. And it is all the worse, so far as truth-
fulness of representation is concerned, that, owing to the
writer's clear imagination and his humor, her character
is full of verve and life.
When, in recounting a discussion of Highland costume
between Stella and Ronald MacAlpine (whose identity
with a well-known æsthetic lecturer is manifest), Mr.
Oliphant writes, "What! leaving so much more of
the limb bare?' Stella had still retained too much of
the prejudices of her countrywomen to say 'leg,'" he is
correct, except in the universality of his implied asser-
tion; but when he afterwards makes Miss Coffin, as she
is trying on a fashionable gown, exclaim, "My, now! if
I ain't real uncomfortable about the legs!" he is not only
incorrect and inconsistent, but shows that he has failed
to apprehend the truth about this squeamish feeling.
Mr. Edward Everett, reproving a pupil who startled the
propriety of the lecture room by a blast upon the nasal
trumpet, confessed that he himself did blow his nose "in
the privacy of his own apartment; " but even there a
Hannah Coffin would not have admitted to her young
friends that she had legs. She could not have got fur-
ther than "limbs." But Mr. Oliphant thus brings up a lit-
tle point as to Americanism which has been discussed so
much and for so long that it may as well now be settled.
That many Americans - even men as well as women,
but not all do say "limb," when good sense, good
English, good taste, and good manners require that they
should say "leg," is true. But the squeamishness is by
no means distinctively " American."
It may be found
on the pages of many British writers.
In a paragraph
AN APOLOGY.
407
before me from the " Saturday Review" (date unfortu-
nately lost), criticising a statue of Phryne, the writer
shrinks from "legs," even in regard to marble, and calls
them the lower limbs." A conspicuous and amusing
example of this skittishness is found in the Shakespeare
Glossary of that distinguished scholar and critic, Alex-
ander Dyce. There has long been a question as to the
meaning of Orlando's phrase "Atalanta's better part,"
in "As You Like It." Various explanations have been
offered. I produced many passages to show that the
intended “better part" of the beautifully formed and
swiftly running Atalanta was what the "Saturday Re-
view" called the lower limbs; but I did not use that
euphemism. Whereupon, after recounting some of the
explanations, although he is writing a critical note for
the critical, Mr. Dyce, blushing and shrinking behind his
paper, cannot bring himself even to suggest the idea by a
periphrasis, but says, "Mr. Grant White's explanation of
the lady's better part I had rather refer to than quote"! ¹
After that, I think that the pretense of any peculiar
Americanism upon this point may well be given up.
In connection with this allegation, and in support of it,
one assertion has been made, and made so frequently,
through so many years, that it may as well be disposed
of now and here, forever. It is that "the Americans "
(the general term universally applied, as usual) are so
exceedingly shamefaced that they put the very legs of
their piano-fortes in trousers or pantalets. This ridiculous
story was told long ago, in the Mrs. Trollope day; but
I believe that it first appeared in Captain Basil Hall's
book. Since that time it has pervaded British books and
British newspapers. It has been one of the stock illus-
trations of "American " manners. I have seen it three
1 Indeed, indeed, respected shade, I ventured upon no such
explanation.
408
AN APOLOGY.
or four times within the last few months. Now it is true
that in Mrs. Trollope's and Captain Hall's day most
"American" housewives who then had piano-fortes did
cover the legs of them. And yet the story, as it was told,
and is told, is absurdly untruthful. About that time the
legs of the piano-forte, which had previously been small,
straight, square mahogany sticks, began to be highly or-
namental, with fluting and carving. The instrument be-
came the most elaborately made and highly prized piece
of furniture in the drawing-room, or rather parlor; and
in the careful housewifery of that day (which kept par-
lors dark, that the sun might not fade the carpet) it was
protected, except on grand occasions, a party," or the
—
That is all.
like, with a holland cover; and the legs, that they
might not be defaced, were also covered with cylinders
of holland. That is all. Tables and chairs and side-
boards had legs also; but they were not covered, simply
because they were not ornamental and easily injured.
Moreover, at festive gatherings, when the room was
filled with a mixed company, in which young women
predominated, the trousers, the pantalets,—oh, horror!
were deliberately taken off the "lower limbs" of the
instrument, which were then shamelessly exposed to the
naked eye. And this is the truth of that matter, which
has been left to be told at this late day. It is a charac-
teristic and worthy exemplification of the ability of the
British traveler to apprehend and to set forth the truth
as to what he sees in "America."
Even when our British critics are men of more than
common ability, and are soberly and judicially disposed,
there seems to be some mental or moral twist in their
natures which prevents them from rightly apprehending
and comprehending what they do see and hear. Mr.
George Augustus Sala shall furnish us with an example
in point, very trifling and simple, and therefore the more
AN APOLOGY.
409
significant. In "Paris Herself Again" he mentions
having "gone so far" as to ask on shipboard for “the
American delicacy of [sic] pork and beans," and then
this paragraph follows:
"It's done, sir,' replied the steward, who was of Milesian
descent. 'Yes,' I told him gently, 'I should like the pork
and beans to be well done.' 'Shure [Why the h in this
word? How does Mr. Sala pronounce sure? If he had
used two r's, the reason would be plain ], — shure, it's
through,' urged the steward. I was not proficient in trans-
atlantic parlance, and bade him bring the dish through the
saloon. 'I mane that it's played out,' persisted the steward,
in a civil rage with my stupidity, 'that it's finished,
that it's clane gone.' He should have said at first that the
pork and beans were gone, and then my Anglo-Saxon mind
[How came a man named Sala with an Anglo-Saxon mind?
It is quite easy to understand how he might have an English
education] would have mastered his meaning." (Chap.
xxxii.)
And Mr. Sala, who is generally, and I need hardly add,
rightly credited with somewhat more than the average
capacity of observation, could write that passage after
having been twice in the United States, for some months
at least at each visit! Any "transatlantic" boy would
laugh at his blunder. The steward's speech, if it is cor-
rectly reported, would have been quite as incomprehensi-
ble to any "American" as Mr. Sala informs us it was to
him. No such use of "through" is known in the United
States; but the passage shows an entire misapprehen-
sion of a use of that word at table, which is common.
No "American" says that a dish is through, meaning
that it is all gone; but many "Americans" do say, un-
fortunately, when they have breakfasted or dined, that
they are "through;" that is, that they have got through,
finished, their breakfast or their dinner. In William
410
AN APOLOGY.
Black's clever little novel "A Beautiful Wretch,” — the
heroine of which, by the way, is one of his charming
women,- two young men are at breakfast, and one
says, -
-
"But that's only her fun, don't you know; she's precious
glad to get out of it, that's my belief; and nobody knows
better than herself he would n't do at all. Finished? Come
and have a game of billiards, then." (Chap. ii.)
Here one of the transatlantic speakers whom Mr. Sala
had in mind would have said, not "Finished?" but
Through? Come and have a game," etc. This trivial
instance is characteristic of a common failure of appre-
hension in the British critic of "American" speech and
manners.
""
Mr. Edmund Yates has also visited the States; on a
lecturing tour, I believe. Exactly how long he remained
here I do not know, but long enough, it would appear,
to become a British authority upon things "American,"
and gain an experience which leads him to continue in
England the lecturing of "the Americans," which seems
not to have been completed in their country. Not long
ago, in this vein, he stated that all that "the Americans
knew of Christmas they had learned from, or since, the
publication of Dickens's Christmas stories. An amazing
announcement! The Maryland descendants and repre-
sentatives of the old Roman Catholic colony of Lord
Baltimore, and the New Orleans natives of the same
faith, will learn with some surprise that they owed to the
Protestant heretic, Charles Dickens, the birth of the feel-
ing which made Christmas to them a great and solemn
festival. But it is not necessary to go to Southern and
Roman Catholic commonwealths to find a refutation of
this wildly ignorant assertion. There are thousands and
tens of thousands of men yet living in New York, New
AN APOLOGY.
411
Jersey, Pennsylvania, and New England, who can re-
member that long before Dickens's first Christmas story
was published, Christmas was the turning point of their
childhood's year. It was par excellence, the one great
family and social festival. They can hear yet the joyful
Christmas anthem chanted in churches which were great
bowers of evergreens; they remember the family gath-
erings, the somewhat oppressive nature of which was re-
lieved by a dinner sweeter in the mouth than in the stom-
ach on the next day. To all this, if I may be pardoned
a personal recollection, I can testify. To this my father
could testify; and he did tell me that the church, in Con-
necticut, in which he kept Christmas, of which my grand-
father was rector, was not only decked with evergreens
on Christmas Eve, but illuminated, and in so ample a
style that the reliquary candles, extinguished at midnight,
were an important perquisite of the sexton. This takes
us back three generations in a country which, Mr. Yates
informs his readers, learned Christmas - keeping from
Charles Dickens! The truth is simply this: There has
been in the United States, of late years, a much more
nearly universal observance of this Christian festival than
there was before. Of this there are two causes, Charles
Dickens not being one of them: first, what has been
called the "broad church movement," in consequence of
which people of other denominations have gladly adopted,
to a certain extent, the Christmas customs of the churches
of England and of Rome; next, the conviction that we
needed more of general holiday-keeping than we had in
earlier days. These causes have come into their full
operation necessarily since the publication of Dickens's
Christmas stories, but not because of them: they were
post hoc, but not propter hoc. The inference that they
were so is exemplary of the nearness of approach by
most British critics to truth as to things "American."
412
AN APOLOGY.
As to the reason of the misapprehension of American
society by so large a proportion of even the better inten-
tioned and more intelligent people in England, and as to
the difficulty of setting them right on this point, Mr.
Matthew Arnold has, in one of his Irish Essays, "The
Incompatibles," a passage in point, and quite explan-
atory:
•
•
•
"True, there are difficulties. One of the greatest is to be
found in our English habit of adopting a conventional ac-
count of things, satisfying our own minds with it, and then
imagining that it will satisfy other people's minds also, and
may really be relied on. The true explanation of any
matter is therefore seldom come at by us, but we rest in
that account of things which suits our class, our party, our
leaders, to adopt and to render current. We adopt a version
of things because we choose, not because it really represents
them ; and we expect it to hold good because we wish that
it may."
In this passage the distinguished British critic has told
how and why it is that "America and the Americans "
have been so greatly and so mischievously represented by
writers for the British public; why it is that, in the words
of Lord Ronald Gower, "injustice has been dealt out"
to New England in Old England ever since the War of
Independence." It is, as one of my correspondents avows,
expressing more bluntly and more colloquially Mr. Ar-
nold's thought, because "there's a lot of people over
here who don't want to believe" that any good can come
out of "America," and above all any good of an English
sort.
With much in mind of what I have now recounted,
and with the memory of what I have heretofore called
the fidgety desire of British writers on America, and of
AN APOLOGY.
413
British visitors (which I had had many opportunities of
observing) to find in America something "genuinely
American," and the memory also of what had been so
long presented in the British public as the real American,
it occurred to me to write a little burlesque sketch, in
which a Yankee gentleman should play a practical joke
upon a party of people in England, — people intelligent,
well bred, kind-hearted, but as ignorant as I, and many
others, had found such people there, by introducing to
them a highly-charged representation of the real Amer-
ican in whom they took so much interest, and in whom
they found so much self-complacent entertainment. This
sketch was intended at first to make only one article in
the "Atlantic" magazine. But when I came to write it,
I found that some machinery, some preparation, was nec-
essary for the easy and probable introduction of my
burlesque figure. Wherefore I planned the meeting with
Lord Toppingham in the railway carriage (partly a rem-
iniscence), and the discussion there, and the consequent
invitation. But when this was done, I found that some-
what more was necessary for ease of movement and for
probability's sake; and therefore I introduced the little
scene at Boreham Hall, which I had not thought of until,
as I was writing, I was brought face to face with the
necessity of my story. This done for necessity, I used
the railway and Boreham Hall to indicate seriously what
I was afterward to illustrate jocosely. I expected and
hoped for nothing more than that my British and "Amer-
ican " readers would enjoy a laugh with me, and that
the former some of them at least would thank me,
as many of them have thanked me, for telling them a
little that they did not know about "America." That
was all of “Mr. Washington Adams." But although my
joke was understood and enjoyed by many, it was misun-
derstood and resented by some of my British critics, who,
414
AN APOLOGY.
to my great surprise, treated my personages seriously.1
Wherefore it seemed to me that it would be well to go on,
and to carry my merry trifle to a sober conclusion. All
the more was I tempted to do this, because already I
had found that my puppets had become to me much
more than my purpose, and that I, at least, was person-
ally interested in them.2
1 In an apology I may interject that all this "interna-
tional" literature, as it is called, is personally distasteful to
me; and that I heartily wish that it might cease; which it
would do at once if British writers, who began it, and who
have kept it up by incessant nagging and sneering, and mis-
representation, would cease writing upon a subject that, judg-
ing by their manner, they, too, seem not to like. If they
would but do this easy thing, they, from the writer of "A
Word about America," down, might be sure that they would
hear not another word on the subject. To me the very word
international is distasteful; and I don't care a grain of oats
whether the Derby is won by a horse owned by a Brown, a
Jones, or a Robinson in Old York, or by one owned by a
Brown, a Jones, or a Robinson in New York.
2 The first one of Mr. Washington Adams's satellites who
took shape in my mind was Captain Surcingle; and his name
and that of his father tell the light jocosity of my purpose.
In train with this, Lord Toppingham's name was first written
Topsawyer, a congruent epitheton" often heard in Eng-
land, but rarely or never here. My mood sobering, however,
I shunned this burlesque in a character which began to as-
sume a shape that awoke my admiring recollections; and re-
taining the Top, I added the old Saxon terminations ing and
ham. It was not until Margaret Duffield had been married a
month or two that I accidentally discovered (in the course of
researches upon another subject) that there was an old Eng-
lish family, Topping, and that there were representatives of
it in New England and New York. Lord Toppingham is
drawn in person and in speech from the British officer whom
AN APOLOGY.
415
The opinions which have been passed upon them thus
far are strikingly diverse. It ill becomes me, as Dr.
Johnson said, "to bandy compliments with my critics;
and I shall give my attention to writers and judgments
of an opposite sort. Lord Toppingham, who has been
found by some of them to be a very life-like person, is
declared by others to be quite unlike an English noble-
man. That he is unlike many members of his order, no
one knows better than I do. But as all "Americans "
are not alike, so also are all English peers. Lord Top-
pingham is an individual in a class, not a smooth un-
cornered type of a class. But I have met him more
than once both in England and in "America." With
him and with Captain Surcingle I have eaten and drunk,
and talked, not only in their houses but in my own;
I have walked and talked with them not only in English
parks, and roads and lanes, but in country roads about
New York, and in Broadway and in Madison Avenue.
My portraits of them may be dull and spiritless; but as
to their features, what they are, how they think, and what
they say, I know that these are true. My British censors
on this point must pardon me for saying that I am so
sure upon it that I cannot doubt my truthfulness unless
I have very good reason from very competent authority.
If Lady Toppingham and Margaret Duffield, and their
intimate friends, should tell me that Lord Toppingham
and Captain Surcingle are not good portraits; if Lord
Toppingham and Captain Surcingle should find the same
fault with my pictures of the ladies, I should at least
doubt the truthfulness of my representation.
But to
I met on the Thames steamer (England Without and Within,
chap. vi.). The original of Lady Toppingham in person and
in manner may be found in chapter x. of the same book.
The other personages at the Priory are mostly reminiscences;
but for Margaret Duffield I had no model.
416
AN APOLOGY.
inferior authority I cannot, yet at least, succumb. The
fact is, however, quite to the contrary. From critics of
this ability, and with this right to speak, there have come
to me only notes of approval on this score, whatever de-
murring there may be upon others.
That Mansfield Humphreys should meet the approba-
tion of those British critics who, in the words of one of
my correspondents, "don't want to believe" what he
tells them, is not to be expected. They even shut their
eyes against him for what he is, a man of single nature,
simple tastes, and strong feeling; one whose good breed-
ing is so much a part of him, and has been so from his
boyhood up, that he is unconscious of it, and assumes
as matter of course that all others must be as considerate
of him as he is of them, until he is stung into conscious-
ness by intimations to the contrary, more or less delicately
conveyed under the forms of social courtesy; a man who
has for mere polish, and for mere arrogance of position,
the disregard which mere polish and mere arrogance of
position deserve, and who is moved to covert protest and
decorous aggressiveness by a resentment of the wrong
done to the society in which he was born and bred, by
those whom he honors and even loves,
wrong which
he sees has its triple origin in ignorance, prejudice,
and a supercilious assumption of superiority. This sim-
ple, unpretending New England gentleman has had his
attention arrested by what Lord Ronald Gower and
my correspondent, M. C., call, in the words of the for-
mer, "the injustice we English have dealt out to our
kinsmen ever since the war of Independence." Over
this he has brooded somewhat; and being not free from
human passion, nor even from human weakness, being a
man who, with all his self-respect and his natural reserve,
does not "lack gall to make oppression bitter," it has
AN APOLOGY.
417
become what he himself calls his "fad " - a good mod-
ern slang word which means something different from
hobby." His newly-married wife tells him with jo-
cose exaggeration that he is "half daft" upon the sub-
ject. He would doubtless have been a somewhat more
smoothly rounded and pleasant person to some of the
"Britishers" who concern themselves about him, if he
had been quite thoughtless of the wrong which is the
spur to much of what he says, and to something of what
he does or thinks of doing. But in that case there would
have been no story. Nor, unless he had happened to
meet, in Lord Toppingham, a man in whom intelligence,
courtesy, and kindness of heart were united with igno-
rance and prejudice as to American affairs (as I, and I
am sure many others, have found them united in Eng-
land), would there have been the good-humored collision
which brought about the invitation to the Priory, and
the appearance there of Mr. Washington Adams. To
compare infinitely great things with infinitely small,
King Lear's conduct when he first appears is absurd, al-
most ridiculous; Hamlet's conduct is not always defen-
sible;
and if he had not taken his father's murder and his
own loss of the succession to the throne of Denmark so
much to heart, he would have been found a much pleas-
anter person by those smoothly well-bred people Claudius,
Gertrude, and Polonius; but otherwise, in either case,
there would have been no tragedy. 'Mamma," said a
young lady, who, being nine years of age, had begun to
write novels, "Mamma, are all the people in heaven per-
fect?" "Yes, darling." What, all? quite perfect?
"Yes, darling." "O dear, dear! when I go there, how
shall I write my stories?
CC
Mansfield Humphreys labors at first under the disad-
vantage of being a constant reproach in England to those
whom he personally respects and likes, and who person-
27
418
AN APOLOGY.
ally respect and like him. Over this, however, with the
candid and the generous, he and circumstances triumph.
There are some, however, whom yet I would not willingly
call uncandid and ungenerous, but rather strongly preju-
diced and perverse, who resent his resentment of what
Lord Ronald Gower calls injustice, and who feel that
policy and their metier require them to deny to him, in
one way or another, the position which that injustice
has provoked him to assert, although with reluctance
and a bitterness of soul which he cannot quite conceal.
Soit.
With this explanation of his motives, his speech, and
his conduct, let my puppet pass, now that he has played
his little part.
If Mansfield Humphreys is an under-
bred prig, uneasily conscious that he is assuming a posi-
tion which does not belong to him by nature and by
recognition of the society in which he was born and bred,
nothing that I could say would help him to such a recog-
nition anywhere. But if, on the contrary, he is a simple,
unaffected gentleman, who has been stung. into a not
uncourteous manifestation of resentful consciousness of
wrong, done to him and his by three generations of pub-
lic insult and private insolence, that, too, will be dis-
covered without my aid.
As I am writing an apology for my little book, how-
ever, it may not be uninteresting to those whose interest
in its subject has given them the patience to follow me
thus far, to explain the origin of the scenes of which his
love for Margaret Duffield is the motive; and the origin,
too, of the attitude which he takes, and of some expres-
sions which he uses, in regard to that affair It will
be observed that the objections of Margaret Duffield's
guardians, and of Margaret herself, to marriage relations
with him are not at all personal; but quite the contrary.
Him they respect, admire, and warmly like; but he is
AN APOLOGY.
419
"an
an American." An expression used by him in his in-
terview with Lord Toppingham on this subject is the key
to the situation that in which he refers to and resents
the "sort of brevet rank of gentleman" which he says
is accorded to Americans like himself in the social cir-
cles of his host. Now this phrase, in which is concen-
trated what might seem to the ignorant an underbred
personal touchiness, is not of his making, nor is the dis-
tinction which it implies one of his imagining. The
phrase was put into his mouth, the distinction into his
mind, by an English gentleman (one whom I have reason
to respect and to like), who volunteered to step forward
in the discussion of this subject, and to set forth this
phrase and insist on this distinction, and to do this not in
England, but bluntly to "Americans" in a Boston news-
paper.
Soon after the publication in the "Atlantic" magazine
(June and July, 1883) of the first parts of this little story,
some one kindly sent me a copy of the following letter
which appeared in the "Boston Saturday Evening Ga-
zette " of June 2, 1883. Before receiving it I had deter-
mined to carry my hero (if I may venture to call him so)
to an end of his adventure like that which befell him;
and this letter, which I found was written by a gentle-
man who had a right to speak upon its subject, deter-
mined the course of the latter part of my story. I knew
from my own observation in England that this "Real
Englishman" told the simple truth; and his letter (writ-
ten wholly in ignorance of what I had done) is much bet-
ter worth reading than anything that I could write upon
the same subject.
420
AN APOLOGY.
LINCOLNSHIRE, ENG., May 3, 1883.1
Editor of the Saturday Evening Gazette: —
Mr. Henry James is in an unfortunate position. Not only
has he been too long away from the States to remember or
learn the truth about those American customs and manners
he satirizes, but he is also not sufficiently acquainted with
English ideas to represent our "points of view" correctly.
The fact is that in England the springs of opinion are too tra-
ditional and lie too deep for any one not born with them to
grasp them rightly. The forces which operate most power-
fully in this country are never paraded; they are so inherent
here that Englishmen take them as natural to all, and never
insist on them in words. This is particularly true of the Eng-
lish conception of social rank, our ideas of which can never
be really plain to an outsider. This is due, in some measure,
to the custom of giving all Americans and foreigners the
brevet rank of "gentleman" while they are visiting the Old
Country, provided only that they are ordinarily presentable.
Many Americans think that, because Englishmen of high
rank occasionally marry Americans, our aristocracy is losing
its old exclusiveness. But this arises from a radical miscon-
ception of English views as to marriage. A peer in England
may marry any presentable girl without loss of position, be-
cause she takes his rank and becomes absorbed into the " great
house" of which he is the head. But let an American gentle-
man, however rich and distinguished, seek to marry a daugh-
ter of such a family, and he would find himself, unless he
occupied a very high place in the government or diplomatic ser-
vice of his country, ranked far beneath the poorest and least
distinguished member of a "good English family.".
Mr. Howells, whose novels are much read in England,
has said somewhere that Americans could not "believe any
English nobleman took his rank seriously." If Mr. Howells
were to mix with the best society over here (and it would re-
ceive him very graciously as a distinguished author), he would
1 I suppress a more particular date of this letter, for the
protection of the writer.
AN APOLOGY.
421
not only find that peers and heads of old families take, and
are given, their rank very "seriously," but would also dis-
cover that Englishmen consider want of social rank the most
serious of drawbacks. Unless a man is of good birth here,
and has received a public school or university training among
his equals, he must go very high before "society" will notice
him at all. There are plenty of men in England with in-
comes under $1,500 (£300) a year who, owing to their con-
nections with "good" families, rank socially before any
millionnaire not so connected, and know people whom he can
never know...
The knowledge of all these things forms "points of view,"
but those who merely visit or reside in England for a while
see little of this, because Englishmen do not judge Americans
by their own standards, or wish to impose their own social
laws on strangers, besides being too well-bred to point out
their differences of rank to outsiders. Americans should be
carefully aware that the only English "point of view" is that
taken by Englishmen born and bred, and should smilingly
disregard the criticisms on themselves which visitors to our
country put in our mouths. We Englishmen have too gen-
uine a respect for America, and wish too well to her great re-
public, to offer any insulting remarks on her manners and
culture, believing, as we do, that her future will disappoint
all those who are envious of her by its unforeseen successes.
I have the honor to be, yours, faithfully,
A REAL ENGLISHMAN.
That is very plain speaking; and although it is not in
the least lacking in considerateness or even in kindliness,
it leaves no ground of misunderstanding or loop-hole of
escape. It will be seen that Mansfield Humphreys' phrase
is not that of a self-conscious and over-sensitive "Ameri-
can,” but that of "a Real Englishman," and one who, I
have reason for believing, regards the New Englander
as a gentleman, not by brevet, but thoroughly, in the
English sense of the word. This plain-speaking coun-
422
AN APOLOGY.
sellor of his Boston friends makes but one mistake,
the regarding
I think, in the course of his letter:
official or diplomatic position in an American "suitor
as an advantage. He has, I fear, less knowledge on
that point than on others. How often must our Brit-
ish cousins be told that they should not regard public po-
sition in the United States as any evidence of stability of
position, or eminent merit, or respectability of character?
And here let me say as to the reluctance of my heroine's
guardian that she should be married to an American," I
can understand it, and even sympathize with it. It seems
to me not at all unnatural or unreasonable that an Eng-
lishman of his social position should prefer to see a ward
or a daughter married to a man in his own society
with five hundred pounds a year rather than to an Ameri-
can merchant or speculator with fifty thousand dollars a
year, however agreeable his person or irreproachable his
character. Upon this point there can be no doubt that
"A Real Englishman" told the simple truth.
But as to the origin of my satirical libellus, and the pur-
pose of it, and the need, there is more to be said by others,
as well as by myself, and the others are in England,
friends, mere acquaintances or entire strangers. Among
the first is the writer of the following letter who, like Lord
Ronald Gower, is an Eton boy, a Cambridge scholar, a
peer's son, and was a member of Parliament. It will be
seen that what he says is much to the purpose; he is
speaking of the Edinburgh " Mr. Washington Adams" :-
•
CLUB, LONDON, 10th Oct., '83.
I saw the little book at a railway station, and, of
course, bought it at once. I read it with infinite amusement ;
for I knew how true it was, and I knew as well how much
the information that it gave was needed. But all at once
it flashed on me, where you got your idea of it. Am I not
right? our talk in your New York park years ago— fifteen
AN APOLOGY.
423
years in that pretty wild nook at the upper end. I'm sure
of it; for I remember my saying to you about some very
pleasant people we had met that they and people like them
were not real Americans; and I remember your grave smile
and the little lecture that you then kindly gave me, which,
under your direction, I found to be all true. When I left
America I was a wiser if not a better man, at least about
America; and I owed no little of my wisdom to the manner
of observation that you taught me then. But if I remember
right, you didn't put it to me quite so strongly, nor say
anything about Botany Bay and Australia 1
that's a very
strong point, our separation from our remote colonies and
your connection territorially with yours. America, as we
think of it, includes your Australia, your India, your Canada,
your New Zealand.
I'm very glad you've done this
thing; but good-humored as your laugh is, you must n't be
surprised at being pitched into; for there's a lot of people
here who don't want to believe any good about America, and
above all don't want to believe than an American can be like
an English gentleman.
•
Faithfully yours,
H. H.
The publication in Edinburgh of the first two chapters
of the book, which only the writer of this letter had seen,
was entirely at the suggestion and request of the pub-
lisher, with whom I had had no previous communication,
and who proposed it because he thought that it would be
the means of diffusing some useful and much-needed in-
formation. Innocent bit of pleasantry as it was, and
written with a kindly feeling which I am sure is apparent,
it was made the subject of animadversion in a well-
known London periodical, some of which was of such a
nature that a particular examination of it may be not
1 No; but I thought it quite proper to mingle what had
been said to me, and what I had said on one occasion, with
what had passed on another like occasion.
424
AN APOLOGY.
"
without profit, or perhaps even without interest. The
little book seems to have disturbed the digestion, and cer-
tainly to have deranged the intellect, of the critic. He
has even been wholly unable to apprehend its purpose.
"It is meant," he says, to give, so far as it goes, an
essentially accurate picture of what English society actu-
ally is." This is amazing. Such a picture its writer had,
indeed, endeavored to paint in a previous book, which has
been found by some British critics almost too flattering.
The purpose of Mr. Washington Adams, on the contrary,
was solely to give to the many British readers of "The
Atlantic" some information (as simply and baldly true as
that two and two are four) about "America and the Ameri-
cans," which, as its intelligent and enterprising Edinburgh
publisher saw, was really much needed by a very considera-
ble part of the British public. That the ignorance thus
assumed does really exist, even among many of the most
cultivated, best bred, and most estimable members of that
society, no one acquainted with it can doubt. Moreover,
that booklet has already brought to the writer thankful
confessions of this, of which the following extract from a
letter from a gentleman of liberal politics, and of much
better acquaintance with "America" than most of his
countrymen, is a specimen :-
•
KENSINGTON SQUARE, W. LONDON, September 22, 1883.
Mr. Washington Adams has given both my wife
and myself much amusement and a considerable amount of
knowledge. Not that I will plead guilty to the ignorance
of some of the characters; but I should not like to be cross-
examined either on the geography or the peculiarities of the
United States. You are no doubt right in pointing out that
the New Englanders and the Virginians are the real Ameri-
We have formed our opinions from Dickens and the
appalling floods of so-called American humoristic literature.
We know rather less of American geography than of European.
cans.
AN APOLOGY.
425
The continent looks no larger on a map than does France;
and hence, perhaps unconsciously, we people the American
continent with a fair sprinkling of the type of Mr. Washing-
ton Adams, though I hardly think any one could suppose
that an Eastern type.1
Until quite lately few English have visited America. Your
own compatriots (I can neither say fellow-subjects nor fellow-
countrymen), who travel in Europe, are mostly of the inferior
class, although rich enough, most of them; but I hope that
increasing intercourse will lead to a juster appreciation of
your ever-changing continent.
Believe me truly yours, etc.,
A. H.
A few lines from another quarter may show that there
were people in England who could see that the point of
the little story was not turned only against society in
that country, loved and honored by its writer.
ESSEX, October 28, 1883.
I read it with some enlightenment and amusement.
Of course W. A. is intentionally exaggerated in order to cast
extreme ridicule upon the ignorance of our best people, who,
by your account, only recognize an American in a brute of
such tremendous proportions.
I hope your account of the political, judicial, and monetary
corruption of your people is also overcharged. Our stock ex-
1 My correspondent has here very surely touched upon the
cause of much of the strange geographical misapprehension
of the United States which prevails in England. I turned to
a popular London geography (the "Victoria"), and in this
found that on the maps England, Scotland, and Ireland were
each represented in as large a figure as the whole United
States, which extend 1,500 miles from north to south and
2,500 miles from east to west; and in the same book even
Canada is represented on a scale which makes the island
Newfoundland cover as much space, to the eye, as all the
Eastern, Northern, and Middle States!
426
AN APOLOGY.
change, bad as it is, - so bad that we are out and out ashamed
of it, is not so bad as that. Our political corruption is a
comparative trifle; and the judicial bench is as pure as any
mere human institution can be. And what a cruel cut that
is when you make W. A. complain that he is not allowed to
fire his pistol across the park! "Th'r ain't no libberty here.
You've allers got to be thinkin' baout somebody else." But I
remember the " Saturday" [Review] remarking upon some-
thing of the same sort in "England Without and Within.”
Yours always truly,
C. M. I.
Not to weary my readers or deploy my correspondence
further, I will merely remark that these letters are ex-
amples characteristic of some dozen that I have received
upon the same subject, all of which, with one exception,
acknowledge the information received from the visitor to
Toppington Priory.
On one or two special points the critic referred to takes
exceptions, as to which it may be well that he should be
put to his purgation. One of these is that a man of Lord
Toppingham's rank and breeding is represented as drop-
ping his final g's in ing and the r in words like pardon.
The language of the personages in Mr. Washington
Adams was put into their mouths from my own obser-
vation; but for it there is the best British authority.
"Punch" is not without such talk by such people; and it
could not otherwise be faithful. For example, “Punch,"
September 6, 1873. Scene, a pastry cook's: a governess,
with her young masculine charge, -
"Lord Reginald. Ain't yer goin' to have some puddin',
Miss Richards? It's so jolly.
"Governess. There again, Reginald! Puddin', — goin'
- Ain't yer! That's the way Jim Bates and Dolly Maple
speak; and Jim's a stable-boy, and Dolly's a dairy-maid.
"Lord Reginald. Ah! but that's the way father and
AN APOLOGY.
427
mother speak, too! And father 's a duke, and mother's a
duchess! So, there!"
And again, the same volume, under the heading,
"Fragment of Fashionable Conversation:" Scene, a
first-class railway carriage:-
"Little Swell No. 1. Huntin', to-day," etc.
Indeed, the point is indisputable. There is no more
authoritative observer upon this subject than Mr. Alex-
ander Ellis, F. R. S., etc., the eminent author of the great
work on English Pronunciation; and he represents (Part
iv., p. 1211), no less a person than Professor Jowett,
Master of Baliol College, Oxford, as saying in one of his
lectures "attachin' 'imself to 'im," instead of "attaching
himself to him.” All this, however, is probably, as I
have already conjecturally indicated in "England With-
out and Within," but a relic of the good usage of a not
remote past.
As to the dropped r, the same high authority (Mr.
Ellis) records the following examples (Idem, pp. 1212,
1213): Dr. Hooper, President of the British Association,
said "eitha, neitha, undatuken" (for either, neither, under-
taken); a peer, "obse'ving, brighta, conve'sant, direc'ta,
pa'cels "(for observing, brighter, conversant, director, par-
cels); certain professional and commercial men, “futsha,
boa'd, rema’ks” (for future, board, remarks). [I look only
to the consonants, and ask Mr. Ellis's pahdon, if I have
thus misrepresented his vowel sounds.] This point may
be dismissed without further consideration. But I admit
with pleasure that I never heard a well-born, well-bred
person in England say "yer" for you; possibly "Mr.
Punch" might suggest, because the range of my social
observation stopped one grade below the ducal rank.
Lady Boreham and the society at Boreham Hall seem
chiefly to afflict this critic. He appears to resent as a
428
AN APOLOGY.
personal insult this slight passing glimpse of one limited
variety of life in England; and although it is a mere
link, a coupling between the first and the second parts of
the little sketch, only an incidental bit of machinery to
make the rest work together, he devotes most of his at-
tention to it, and will have it that the Borcham people
are set forth as "the English," just as the Washington
Adams's have been held up for half a century in England
as "the Americans." He is woful because Lady Boreham
is represented "almost exactly as the French caricature
Englishwomen. The coincidence is remarkable, and
somewhat significant; for I have never been in France;
and I have seen very few French caricatures of English
people, except those in Gavarni's "London," in which I
remember no such figure as Lady Boreham. She is as
exact a picture as I could make, in the little time and
space that I could give to her, of a sort of woman who is
not very uncommon in England, but to whom this little
sketch portrait is my first and only reference. I grieve
that my reviewer takes her so sorely to heart; and if he
really believes that she was presented as the typical
Englishwoman, I sympathize with him warmly. For
I do not say here for the first time how charming I found
the sex in England, whatever their rank or condition.
But is it not permitted to hint that there is one woman in
England who is not absolute in feminine charm? And
have our British friends become so sensitive, are their
mental integuments so excoriated, that they cannot have
it said that there is one household in England which is
characterized by dull respectability? Truly it makes a
difference when, the name being changed, of thee the
fable is narrated. My critic seems, as he read, to have
taken off his skin and sat in his nerves.
One grievance heavily alleged is that this lady "drops
all her h's;" this being done in a way that conveys a no-
AN APOLOGY.
429
tion that her speech is the representative English speech
of the book, an old and not very admirable device of
injurious criticism. Moreover, the assertion is absolutely
untrue. If I had so represented Lady Boreham's speech,
I should have been guilty of deliberate slander. The
truth is that she, the least important of the little array
personages that appear, speaks just six times! In only
one instance does she utter more than a dozen words!
She uses words beginning with h only eleven times in
all;
and all of these, every one, she aspirates, just as the
other personages do, except two, home and hotel! Now,
if any general assertion may be safely made as to Eng-
lish-speaking in England, it is that only a very few among
the highest bred and most thoroughly educated persons
say home and hotel. A man who is so precise in his as-
pirations as to say humor (which thirty years ago no one
said), will yet say 'otel always, and 'ome whenever the
the word is preceded by a consonant.
With the excep-
tions made above, even the women, whose speech, in
almost all conditions of life, it is worth a voyage to hear,
say 'ome and 'otel.¹
1 It is worthy of remark that many persons do not perceive
peculiarities in pronunciations to which they are accustomed.
A little experience which I shall relate illustrates this point,
and also another, made by Lord Ronald Gower. During
a summer trip on the Rhine a party of ladies and gentlemen,
old and young, among whom I had friends, met and formed
a traveling acquaintance with a similar British party. They
did not take to them particularly, but did not wish to seem
"offish." Two or three of the latter party thought it proper
to be critical of things "American," particularly on the sub-
ject of language; and although they could find no occasion
of reproach in the speech of these Yankees, they would fre-
quently themselves use some slangish or slovenly phrase, or
some uncouth pronunciation, with the addition "as you
430
AN APOLOGY.
My critic, however, makes one admission which atones
for all his misrepresentation, intentional or unintentional.
He says that my friend Humphreys, in his masquerade,
"deliberately makes a beast of himself." I don't agree
with him any more than Lady Toppingham does, or my
correspondents do. Humphreys merely showed the com-
pany at the Priory a concentrated representation of cer-
tain rude, grotesque forms of life. But the personage
which he "disfigured or presented " is not new to the
British public; on the contrary, he is a very old acquaint-
ance indeed. He is merely the man who has figured on
their stage, in their fiction, in their serial literature, in
their illustrated books, for more than half a century as
"the American; " and my reviewer thus admits that
during that time British authors and journalists and ar-
tists (see "Punch" passim) have been presenting “the
Americans" to their world as - beasts. The word is
his, not mine. With Phèdre I can say C'est toi qui l'as
nommé. He has fully justified Mansfield Humphreys.
One point which ought not to be passed over is the
qucer notion that those "Americans" who are more or
less without what are regarded in England as Ameri-
can" peculiarities are "Europeanized Americans;" fceble
imitations of English or other European originals; per-
sons who have laid aside their national costume, mental,
moral, and physical, and indued themselves with the ill-
Americans say," and a little laugh. This had gone on for
two or three days, until finally the oldest lady of the com-
pany, touched once more by "as you Americans say," allowed
herself to be provoked into replying, "Madam, your kind
criticisms would have more effect if you could speak English
yourselves. There's not one of your party that can say such
a simple English word as home." "Ome, can't say 'ome!
Why, we always say 'ome." "Yes, I see you do;" was the
reply, and the subject was dropped.
AN APOLOGY.
431
fitting habits of a foreign people. This has been not a
little insisted upon of late by certain British critics, who
were, however, anticipated by Mansfield Humphreys.
They are altogether wrong; as a highly esteemed, al-
though personally unknown, correspondent also is, who
makes much the same suggestion in the following letter,
written after reading the little Edinburgh brochure :
QUEEN'S GATE, S. W., LONDON, September 28, 1883.
From it I gather that you think that the best type of
Americans and Englishmen resemble each other so as to be
almost indistinguishable; which is not my own experience.
Even after years of London society, London tailors, and dress-
makers, the American friends with whom I have had the
pleasure of associating are no more English than they are
Dutch. I do not see why we should wish to confuse ourselves.
with each other. Variety is pleasing; and it will be enough
if by contact we borrow or learn from each other the best,
not the worst, habits. . . . To grow an old English gentle-
man requires time and peculiar circumstances, as to grow an
oak, --it cannot be done in a hurry, or in a light soil.
Believe me, yours faithfully,
C. M. B.
My fair correspondent, to agree with whom I cannot
doubt would be a pleasure, must allow me to say that
here she is much from the purpose on every point. I am
far from denying that time and peculiar circumstances are
required for the production of a gentleman in England,
and from implying that it can be done in a hurry or in a
light soil; so far, that it seems to me that the production
of a gentleman requires time and favorable circumstances
in any country. The difficulty with my correspondent,
and those whom she represents on this point, is that, from
lack of knowledge, they assume that "America" is ex-
ceptional in this regard. Better acquaintance with the
subject would also teach her that these "Americans" who
are "almost indistinguishable" from Englishmen are
432
AN APOLOGY.
not, or are very rarely, those whose externals have been
moulded by years of London society, London tailors, and
dressmakers; the mention of which made me smile, so
very different a sort of “American” did it suggest from
that which I had in mind. Nor was that sort confined to
the "best type of Americans," if by best is meant culti-
vated, highly educated, traveled. Mr. Matthew Arnold
(who so strongly insists upon urbanity of tone in litera-
ture, and justly, unless in self-defense against unprovoked
attack) in that sneer of linked sweetness long drawn out,
"A Word about America," quotes with relish the descrip-
tive phrase of a Boston writer, who describes certain
Americans as "skipping backwards and forwards over the
Atlantic." The "Americans" for whom Mansfield Hum-
phreys speaks, although in these days it could hardly
be but that some of them should have visited Europe,
are not of that sort. Before the days of ocean steam-
ers these "Americans" were just what they are now;
aud then not one in a thousand of them had crossed
the Atlantic. If I could go into detail, I could specify,
within my own acquaintance, more than twenty such
who have been and are constantly (not to mention hun-
dreds who might be) taken as a matter of course, with-
out words or thought, as England-born by intelligent and
observant persons, themselves England-born and bred.
One of these, a gentleman now well in years, who has
been engaged in trade all his life, who has never been
outside of Sandy Hook, who has had very little inter-
course with even those of our British cousins who come
here, and in that little has been so unfortunate that he
dislikes them, is spoken to always by those whom he does
meet, with the quiet assumption that he and they are
countrymen as well as of English race, and this when they
have had for days the opportunity of observing and talk-
ing with him. I have seen Yankee and British artisans,
AN APOLOGY.
433
Yankee and British shop-girls, side by side, and have
found my friends from England unable, by their own con-
fession, to distinguish the one from the other until they
spoke; and then the shibboleth was not a twang from
one, but the maltreatment of h by the other. There is
no greater evidence of want of knowledge on the subject
than the assumption that the former is as common in
"America" as the latter is in England. I feel safe in
saying this because it is to me the most unpleasant sound
produced by human creatures. The slightest vibration
of it would mar for me the utterance of wisdom, or the
announcement of coming happiness. In my boyhood I
heard it so rarely that the rarity made me sensitive to
it, and I therefore speak with confidence. There are
families who are without it; and who have always been
without it. There are circles of society in which its
singularity would make it an obtrusive offense. But
strange to say, there are also some families to be found
of which half a dozen, or half a score, will show no
trace of it, and one will have it so strongly as to offend
the rest. The manner in which this unlovely sound is
produced is easily explained; but the reason for it seems
past conjecture, and above all why it is so very much
more common here than in England. But the most ag-
gressive and unpleasant exhibition of this peculiarity of
speech that I ever heard was from an Englishman who
had, in their most pronounced form, all British prejudices
and habits.
European critics should dismiss this notion of the Eu-
ropeanized American from their offensive armory. The
people whom they call "Americans" are not the product
of "America." There are no physical traits or habits
of speech which are of American origin. A little reflec-
tion will show that there could not be. Those which are
called American are merely the accidentally imperfect
28
434
AN APOLOGY.
or perverted development, in a certain numerous class,
of English traits and English habits.
"Americans" are
merely a people who are, and who for two hundred and
fifty years have been, Europeanizing America. This
they have done with various degrees of imperfection, in
various parts of the country; but in a very numerous
class of individuals and families nothing of their origi-
nal traits or habits has been lost, nor has anything more
than the merest surface variation been contracted.1 Even
in those who are, or who fancy that they are, most
strongly "American" in feeling, the ideal of charac-
ter and of life is an English ideal. Nor is this anything
new or consequent upon European travel. Very few
"Americans"
too few see much of England. They
go to Europe to "have a good time," and that they find
more easily attainable on the continent.2
This English ideal of life, consciously or unconsciously,
prevailed fifty years ago as it does now. How could it
be otherwise? Then nineteen twentieths of them were
English by race; and their habits of mind, of speech, and
of conduct were formed, as they are yet formed, by Eng-
lish literature. A very large proportion of them fail, as,
from various causes, it is inevitable that they should fail,
in attaining their ideal. But leaving emigrants, the chil-
dren of emigrants, and the frontiersmen of the Far West
1 Perhaps I may well remind some of my readers that I
am here speaking of, and have all along been considering,
only the people of the original thirteen States, and their de-
scendants, now scattered through thirty-seven; and not of
foreigners or their children.
2 If by this process there is produced a creature sui generis
who must or may be called the Europeanized American, with
him also I have no concern, and little sympathy; perhaps
because I have not yet seen the continent of Europe except
from Dover cliff.
AN APOLOGY.
435
out of consideration, and confining our view to the mod-
erately well to do and well educated people of all other
sorts, it is beyond dispute or doubt, that if every man
should act and speak as his friends wish that he should
act and speak, every man would act and speak like a well-
conducted Englishman in his condition of life. Although
they might shrink from the confession in words, the de-
fects in his conduct and in his speech would be merely in
his shortcomings of that standard. Nor could it be other-
wise without an eradication of all the instincts of race,
and a nullification of all moral and social influences. A
new word or a new phrase cannot come into use in Eng-
land sufficiently to appear in literature, even colloquially,
without its becoming speedily familiar to all educated
persons in the United States.1 The key to this whole
1 Quite recently I saw in a London weekly paper a cita-
tion of the use of "cad" and "fad" as evidences of affecta-
tion consequent upon Europeanization. Only the next day I
heard them both used by a very young man, furiously "Amer-
ican," who had never been in England, and who had just re-
turned from a sojourn of five years in the Far West. But he
was an educated gentleman, and he used these words as un-
consciously as he used any others. They are used frequently
by such novelists as Anthony Trollope, Charles Kingsley, and
Mrs. Oliphant, and others of their class, whose books have a
hundred readers in the United States for one that they have
in Great Britain. They come into general use here just as
they come into general use there, for the same reasons and by
the same processes.
I have seen also a doubt expressed as to the propriety of
Mansfield Humphreys' exclamation, "My stars and gar-
ters!"
As to which it is only to be said that I hear it every
day, and have heard it in my family and among my friends
from my boyhood up; just as I hear and have heard, "mad
as a hatter" (of which I don't know the origin or the mean-
ing), and “make a spoon or spoil a horn," which I also find
436
AN APOLOGY.
problem is the fact, a denial of which by a sane man I
cannot conceive possible, that "Americans " are not the
product of America, but Europeans who are living in
America. A perfectly well-bred "American" must have
the manners of a perfectly well-bred Englishman, modified
only by the absence of the influence of established rank.
Theoretically this seems undeniable; in fact it will be
in The Way we Live Now. As well carp at these as at
"cad" and "fad," and "in the swim." So, too, I hear
every day children speaking of pennies, although there has
not been a penny in circulation here for more than half a cen-
tury; and one is told (in the humbler quarters of New York)
that the price of a thing is " a shillin'" or "two shillin'" (a
shilling being 12 or 12} cents), although such a coin as a shil-
ling (even the Spanish real, called a York shilling), has been
unknown here for more than a generation; yet I find even in
a newspaper published in Leadville (in the Rocky Mountains,
fifteen hundred miles from New York and not ten years old)
this shilling price advertised. The grocers in New York al-
ways sell sugar (neither they nor their customers know why)
at such or such a price for seven pounds; the reason being
that seven pounds is half a stone. Lord Ronald Gower tells
of Lady Palmerston saying "Me dear, you are cutting me
leather case," and of her pronouncing gold, gould, china,
cheeny, and lilac, layloc. This is just what middle-aged men
in New England and New York heard in their childhood from
old people, the contemporaries of Lady Palmerston.
If
these critics (on both sides of the ocean) would but remem-
ber that men are English or French whether they like it or
not, and that when,
Rejecting all temptations
To be born of other nations,
they are of English race, although they may declare them-
selves independent of the British government, and maintain
their declaration, they cannot make themselves independent
of their English blood and their English brains.
AN APOLOGY.
437
confirmed by observation. As to language there is but
one and the same standard in both countries, the normal
speech of the most cultivated society in England. Those
who fail to attain this, either in pronunciation or in phrase,
merely — fail. Those who attain it do not do so by any
exoteric process of "Europeanization." The notion of a
distinctive American literature is a mere ignis fatuus.
Literature is a product of race and of language, not of
soil and political institutions.¹
Politically, municipally, however, and therefore to a
certain degree socially, there is something —a condition,
a process, an influence, one or all—which may be called
Americanization. Nor it seems to me can any observant
and thoughtful man be without some sympathy with those
of our British cousins who, Liberal as well as Conserva-
tive, look with apprehension upon a possible American-
ization of their institutions. The problem presented to
them by the present tendencies of society and politics
in England is a perplexing one. That the movement will
and must be more or less strongly, more or less quickly,
toward liberalism, that is toward what is called democ-
racy, few will venture to dispute. But even such an
advocate of democracy and equality as Mr. Matthew Ar-
nold wishes to have this done without Americanization.
In his essay on “Democracy ”. - a notable one both for
breadth of view and subtlety of thought, and yet for
unmistakable signs of the blindness that comes of igno-
ance - he says:
"In other words, and to use a short and significant modern
expression which every one understands, what influence may
help us to prevent the English people from becoming Ameri-
canized?"
and again :-
"The course taken in the next fifty years by the middle
1 No new notion. See National Hymns, 1861.
438
AN APOLOGY
classes of this nation will probably give a decisive turn to its
history. If they will not seek the alliance of the State for
their own elevation . . . that will not prevent them probably
from getting the rule of their country for a season, but they
will certainly Americanize it. They will rule it by their
energy, but they will deteriorate it by their low ideals and
their want of culture."
Mr. Arnold and the Liberals whom he represents would
have "equality," and that "expansion," and that “prog-
ress" about which he writes with such serious elegance,
without having the inevitable consequences of equality,
of expansion, and of that sort of progress which accompa-
nies them. Equality, social and political, means simply
-equality; and you cannot have social and political
equality without having all men socially and politically
equals. But when in a people numbering between twenty
and fifty millions, whether East or West of the Atlantic,
all men havẻ not only equal protection of their rights by
the law, but actually the same rights, political and other,
and when every man's vote counts one and no more, to
spend time and words in showing that political power will
fall into their hands who form the most numerous of the
classes and conditions of such a people, and that they will
use that power, not for the best interests of the nation,
not even for their own highest interests, but for their
present profit, would be burning candles in daylight.
Now this is precisely what has happened in "America."
This it is to Americanize the institutions of a country.
Mr. Matthew Arnold himself says, in his essay on
"The
Future of Liberalism:"
"A class of men may often itself not either fully under-
stand its own wants, or adequately express them; but it has
a nearer interest and a more sure diligence in the matter than
any of its proctors, and therefore a better chance of success.
Let the agricultural laborer become articulate, let him speak
AN APOLOGY.
439
for himself.
In his present case we have the last left of our
illusions, that one class is capable of properly speaking for
another, answering for another; and it is an illusion, like
the rest."
Just what Mr. Arnold asks for has happened in
"America." We have swept away the illusion that one
class is capable of speaking properly for another; the
agricultural laborer has become articulate, and speaks for
himself; not only he, but every other laborer; not only
every laborer, but every man. The result brought about
within fifty years is that condition of politics and society
which Mr. Arnold dreads and stigmatizes under the name
Americanization. This process may be briefly described
as the introduction of the worship of one god; not the
god of Abraham, nor, perhaps of Isaac, but certainly the
god of Jacob-self. It is the making of selfishness a
religion. The result of the democracy and the equality
that Mr. Arnold pleads for with so much earnestness
and so much ability is, that the great mass of so-called
"Americans" - some of them rich, most of them comfort-
able, some of them poor, but consisting (whether of the
old stock or of the new-comers from Europe) of those who
elsewhere would be politically inarticulate-look upon
the world and all the things and thoughts in it, not
omitting, but on the contrary very earnestly including,
politics, with the single eye of self-interest, self-interest
of the barest and most material kind. The first question
that they ask about any proposed change political or so-
cial is the dollar question. Perhaps it would be well for
Mr. Arnold and his friends to consider and see whether
these "Americans" are in this respect notably different
from the corresponding classes in England? The next
question that they ask is as to how it will affect them
socially, how it will help or hinder them in "getting on."
And perhaps a like comparison to that just suggested
440
AN APOLOGY.
σ
might here be made with advantage. With these two
questions their inquiry stops. Hence a single-eyed pur-
suit of personal profit by all means within the law (and
sometimes without it); hence a lack of reverence for
everything but money and its possessors; hence the
degradation of politics to a trade, pursued for profit by
tricks and machinery;" hence legislative corruption
unequaled in the present day, however it may be as to
the past; hence the violation of trust in affairs to such a
degree that it seems, sometimes, as if it were a regular
course of business; hence in the very young a coarse
selfishness of tone accompanying a notably good-natured
mildness of manners.
Mr. Arnold, erring through ignorance, like most of his
countrymen, even 'varsity men like himself, whether of
the higher class or the superior middle class, supposes
that the Americanism of society and of politics which
he and they so dread comes of an original lack in “ Amer-
ica" of anything better. He says,
"In America per-
haps we see the disadvantages of having social equality
before there has been any such high standard" [as in
England]" of social life and manners formed.”
Here is the great and essential error which is a constant
factor in the general British judgment of "American"
society; an error which is blindly fostered by those who
most dread Americanization. For the fact is that what
they call Americanism in society (including politics) is
the result of a deterioration, certainly accompanying, if
not consequent upon, that democracy, equality, and ex-
pansion which Mr. Matthew Arnold advocates. No man
who has passed forty and who remembers the old people
of his childhood, whose characters and whose manners
were formed before democracy and emigration set in,
would think of expressing a doubt as to this deteriora-
tion, which, it should be remarked, accompanies an un-
AN APOLOGY.
441
precedented diffusion of education, and also an increase
of higher education. A thoughtful correspondent of the
New York "Tribune," in the course of a communication
headed "Does Education Educate," says:-
"I don't say the young folks are not smart or ambitious.
They have lost little in these respects, if anything. But I do
say that they used to have some manners and that they have
none now, and this I think, though I may be wrong, is a
really serious change for the worse. More than this, their
want of manners seems to grow out of an indifference to any-
body but themselves, which is painful to see in children, and
I am sorry to say that this indifference increases as they grow
older. We were brought up to think much of others and lit-
tle of ourselves. We were taught to reverence our elders even
when they were strangers. We were made to repress and
restrain ourselves, and given to understand that the world was
not our heritage, but that we had to deserve and earn before
we could enjoy and possess.
It is all different now. Every boy and girl thinks he or
she has a perfect right to look out for Number One alone,
and this brings bad results. And the worst comes when
childhood has passed and the generation so brought up is set-
tling down."
•
In the course of a leading article ("How we Prepare
our Successors") upon this communication, the "Trib-
(March 23, 1884) remarks: —
une
Undoubtedly that method of training children which
aims at smoothing their path so effectually that they learn
nothing of self-sacrifice, self-repression, or deference to the
wishes of others, must tend to cultivate in them the lowest
forms of selfishness, must educate them in the belief that their
individuality is of supreme importance, and must by conse-
quence unfit them for the proper performance of those social
and domestic duties which demand reciprocal surrenders at
every step. The child who has been brought up without dis-
cipline, whose parents have indulged his every caprice, in
442
AN APOLOGY.
whom the spirit of reverence has never been awakened, will
be an offensive egotist, intolerant of contradiction in any form,
and incapable of making any allowances for those who are
brought in contact with him. Such children there are at the
present day, beyond doubt, and the future prepared for them
cannot be either happy or prosperous.
"The attempt to dispense with the homely Christian vir-
tues which our ancestors prized and practiced has in fact not
been successful. We have imported into our civilization a
barbaric selfishness, an inflexibility of character which pre-
vents harmonious assimilation, and an irreverence which gives
fresh force to the materialism of the age, and which comes in
aid of all the disintegrating and demoralizing agencies in
operation."
The very first step necessary to the learning what
Americanization (i. e., democracy, equality, and expres-
sion) means and leads to is the full recognition of this
fact of the existence in "America" a generation or two
ago, and before that time, of what Mr. Matthew Arnold
calls "
a high standard of life and manners (upon which
he insists so constantly that his note, even to those who
love it, begins to be a little monotonous), and that this
standard was very widely recognized and conformed to.
To be convinced of this Mr. Arnold has only to think of
the first President, and the second, of the United States;
men who in their training represented large classes.
George Washington was born and brought up in a little
house like a small farm-house in England, and he was
by profession and by occupation a land-surveyor. Yet
his character and his manners were such that he has been
jocosely, but not inaptly, called "Sir Charles Grandison
in regimentals." Nor had John Adams in his youth the
advantages and opportunities accompanying even the
most moderate wealth, or of any particularly fortunate
social position, and he was inferior, if inferior, in charac-
ter and manners only, to his predecessor. Mr. Arnold is
AN APOLOGY.
443
hardly able to compare, as I have compared, the private
correspondence of "American" families of that period
with the collected and published private letters of contem-
porary people of rank in England; but let him compare
the published letters of John Adams and his wife with,
let us say, the Lady Suffolk correspondence, and tell us
frankly which is the more admirable, which, particularly,
is the superior in tone.
No, there is no way of uniting equality with the rule
of the best, or expansion with the selecting influence of
exclusiveness. If our British friends, however, must
make some change, and wish, as I should wish in their
place, to do it without Americanization, let them in their
changing shun :
First of all, - a paid legislature; the unavoidable con-
sequences of which are, that politics become a trade, and
that trading politicians must surely soon become corrupt:
next, the caucus, which places the management of pol-
itics entirely in the hands of professional politicians, who
manage them in their own interest: next, — manhood
suffrage, which, by making every man articulate, makes
the halls of legislature vocal with the speeches and the
votes of venal legislators: next, frequent elections and
changes in office, which serve ends of professional poli-
ticians, keep up petty political excitement with no higher
purpose than the struggle for office, and divert the atten-
tion of people from other and better affairs: last, not
least, an elective judiciary, the absurdity and the evils
of which need not be pointed out to any reasonable, ob-
servant man. In a community so pure and so intelligent
that its judges may be safely elected, judges are not
needed. Let them shun these changes in their political
constitution, and do what else they will, they may dis-
miss all fear of the Americanization of their society and
their politics.
Hitherto
until the appearance of the younger active
444
AN APOLOGY.
generation the "American" has been, except in a few
isolated places, only a kind of Englishman; in the older
States mostly an Englishman of a very true and respect-
able sort in all conditions of life, the humbler as well as
the higher. In his best development, among those of
whom Washington, John Adams, Franklin, Hamilton,
Quincy, Irving, John Quincy Adams, Prescott, Wendell
Phillips, Motley, Sumner, Hawthorne, Longfellow, and
others of like grade, were mere examples raised by talent
and by circumstances into conspicuity, he was well able
to bear unprejudiced comparison with any others of his
It could not be otherwise. No volition of the in-
dividual, no choice of place where his mother should be
when he was born, no calling him American, Virginian,
or Yankee can make man other than he is by blood,
and by the influence of laws, of religion, and of litera-
race.
ture.
The question is interesting, whether this is to continue,
whether the "American" will always be a more or less
perfect or imperfect sort of Englishman. The probabil-
ity seems to be that this will continue for a very long
time. Community of blood cannot be eradicated. Com-
munity of language, of literature, of religion, and of
moral standards, the great shaping social forces, will
continue, and will increase rather than diminish. The
influence which for many generations has been almost
wholly on the side of the elder nation has now become
mutual. The political spirit, the literature, even the art,
of the younger are producing a visible effect upon the
elder. Mutual respect and consideration, notwithstand-
ing the adverse efforts of the prejudiced and the small-
minded on both sides, are beginning to be manifested by
two communities in which individuals have never ceased
to have strong bonds of sympathy and friendship. Inter-
course is becoming year by year more frequent and more
intimate. Each will hereafter take on more the likeness
AN APOLOGY. ·
445
of the other. Culture will develop in the "American
the best qualities of his inherited nature.
Emigration, however, is a factor in this problem which
must be largely allowed for in the consideration of any
but the immediate future. And thus far emigration has,
in this respect had little effect, although it has been
unprecedented in the history of the world; unless we
rate as emigrations those outgoings of the swarms of
the Aryan peoples from their hidden hive, which have
resulted in the formation of the great Indo-European
nations. But emigration will spread as well as increase.
The men in Europe who raise cattle, but eat no meat;
who grow corn for others, to fill their own bellies with
husks; who make wine for tables at which they may serve
but cannot sit; who are cold and hungry in winter, and hot
and hungry in summer; who are a countless multitude
constantly illustrating Vergil's Sic vos non vobis, but who
pay taxes and bear arms; these men, and the women
who more than share their privations and their toils, will
come in multiplying thousands to the country where
there is food for the hungry and freedom for the op-
pressed. If knowledge of the plenty and the liberty of
this land were general in Europe, and ability to remove
were equal to knowledge, there are countries there which
would be left almost as bare of their human product as
the country of the Angles was by that armed emigration
which made Britain England.
Thus far there has been little intermixture between
the emigrants and "Americans" of the old stock; and
this is notably the case in the humbler walks of life.
Nor have they thus far mingled much socially with each
other. Irish associate with Irish, and Germans with
Germans. Marriages between members of the two races
do of course take place; but they are so rare, in com-
parison to the numbers of the two respectively, that their
blending effect is inappreciable. There are isolated com-
446
AN APOLOGY.
munities of Scandinavians in the North West. Of He
brews we have enough to re-Judaise Palestine. Italians
have begun to pour in upon us. The Chinese cannot be
excluded; nor will they all return to the Celestial Em-
pire. Of negroes we have millions. Thus far, however,
all these are socially isolated. Their children call them-
selves "Americans," and show the effects, not always
the most admirable, of the atmosphere into which they
have been transplanted; but they are still in blood, in
mental and in moral traits, what their fathers were. It
is only in name, and in some habits of life, that they are
"American."
This cannot continue forever. There must come a
time when all will be intermingled, Anglo-Saxon, Celt,
Teuton, Scandinavian, Hebrew, Mongol, Negro; and
then indeed there will be a people that may be rightly
called "American." But then "American" will mean
simply "man." Generations must pass away, yes, cen-
turies become a part of our scrap of measured eter-
nity, before this can be accomplished; but in the "Amer-
ica" of that hereafter the blood of all the races of the
carth will have converged from its dispersion, to unite in
the veins of an English-speaking, English-thinking peo-
ple; and when the real American does appear, he will
be of no race whatever, but simply an unmitigated hu-
man creature -Man. There are possibly some natures
which are large enough, and loose enough, to rejoice at
the prospect of this obliteration of race distinctions; but
I am so uncosmopolitan, so narrow-minded, and so
toughly egoistic, that I shrink from this absorption of
my proper people into the great ocean of humanity, with
a dread kindred to that with which I contemplate the
resolution of my own individuality into the elements;
although a heaven that is for all may lie beyond.
R. G. W.

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The Luck of Roaring Camp, and Other Stories.
Tales of the Argonauts and Eastern Sketches.
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At the Mission of San Carmel. (In Press.)
Julian Hawthorne.
2.00
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The Dolliver Romance, Fanshawe, Septimius Felton,
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1.50
1.50
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IV. Life.
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X. Childhood.
XI. Heroism.
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Nora Perry.
9
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1.25
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18.00
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45.00
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13.50
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27.00
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Peveril of the Peak.
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St. Ronan's Well.
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Ivanhoe.
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Highland Widow.
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Anne of Geierstein.
Count Robert of Paris.
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. 1.25
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Mary A. Sprague.
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12
Works of Fiction.
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Julian Sturgis.
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Oddities in Southern Life and Character. Illustrated.
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Faith Gartney's Girlhood.
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Patience Strong's Outings. 12mo
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We Girls: A Home Story. Illustrated.
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•
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•
1.50
•
1.25
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3.00
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1.50
18.00
* For sale by all Booksellers. Sent, post-paid, on receipt of price (in
check on Boston or New York, money-order, or registered letter) by the
Publishers,
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY,
4 PARK ST., Boston, Mass.; II EAST SEVENTEENTH ST.,
NEW YORK.
A Catalogue containing portraits of many of the above authors,
with a description of their works, will be sent free, on application,
to any address.

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
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