The character of the American literature is, generally speaking, pretty justly appreciated in Europe. The immense exhalation of periodical trash, which penetrates1 into every cot and corner of the country, and which is greedily sucked in by all ranks, is unquestionably one great cause of its inferiority. Where newspapers are the principal vehicles of the wit and wisdom of a people, the higher graces of composition can hardly be looked for.
That there are many among them who can write well, is most certain; but it is at least equally so, that they have little encouragement to exercise the power in any manner more dignified2 than becoming the editor of a newspaper or a magazine. As far as I could judge, their best writers are far from being the most popular. The general taste is decidedly bad; this is obvious, not only from the mass of slip-slop poured forth4 by the daily and weekly press, but from the inflated5 tone of eulogy6 in which their insect authors are lauded7.
To an American writer, I should think it must be a flattering distinction to escape the admiration8 of the newspapers. Few persons of taste, I imagine, would like such notice as the following, which I copied from a New York paper, where it followed the advertisement of a partnership9 volume of poems by a Mr, and Mrs. Brooks10; but of such, are their literary notices chiefly composed.
“The lovers of impassioned and classical numbers may promise themselves much gratification from the muse11 of Brooks, while the many-stringed harp12 of his lady, the Norna of the Courier Harp, which none but she can touch, has a chord for every heart.”
Another obvious cause of inferiority in the national literature, is the very slight acquaintance with the best models of composition, which is thought necessary for persons called well educated. There may be reason for deprecating the lavish13 expense of time bestowed14 in England on the acquirement of Latin and Greek, and it may be doubtful whether the power of composing in these languages with correctness and facility, be worth all the labour it costs; but as long as letters shall be left on the earth, the utility of a perfect familiarity with the exquisite15 models of antiquity16, cannot be doubted. I think I run no risk of contradiction, when I say that an extremely small proportion of the higher classes in America possess this familiar acquaintance with the classics. It is vain to suppose that translations may suffice. Noble as are the thoughts the ancients have left us, their power of expression is infinitely17 more important as a study to modern writers; and this no translation can furnish. Nor did it appear to me that their intimacy18 with modern literature was such as to assist them much in the formation of style. What they class as modern literature seems to include little beyond the English publications of the day.
To speak of Chaucer, or even Spenser, as a modern, appears to them inexpressibly ridiculous; and all the rich and varied19 eloquence20 of Italy, from Dante to Monti, is about as much known to them, as the Welsh effusions of Urien and Modred, to us.
Rousseau, Voltaire, Diderot, &c., were read by the old federalists, but now they seem known more as naughty words, than as great names. I am much mistaken if a hundred untravelled Americans could be found, who have read Boileau or Le Fontaine. Still fewer are acquainted with that delightful21 host of French female writers, whose memoirs22 and letters sparkle in every page with unequalled felicity of style. The literature of Spain and Portugal is no better known, and as for “the wits of Queen Anne’s day,” they are laid en masse upon a shelf, in some score of very old-fashioned houses, together with Sherlock and Taylor, as much too antiquated23 to suit the immensely rapid progress of mind which distinguishes America.
The most perfect examples of English writing, either of our own, or of any former day, have assuredly not been produced by the imitation of any particular style; but the Fairy Queen would hardly have been written, if the Orlando had not; nor would Milton have been the perfect poet he was, had Virgil and Tasso been unknown to him. It is not that the scholar mimics24 in writing the phrases he has read, but that he can neither think, feel, nor express himself as he might have done, had his mental companionship been of a lower order.
They are great novel readers, but the market is chiefly furnished by England. They have, however, a few very good native novels. Mr. Flint’s Francis Berrian is delightful. There is a vigor25 and freshness in his writing that is exactly in accordance with what one looks for, in the literature of a new country; and yet, strange to say, it is exactly what is most wanting in that of America. It appeared to me that the style of their imaginative compositions was almost always affected26, and inflated. Even in treating their great national subject of romance, the Indians, they are seldom either powerful or original. A few well known general features, moral and physical, are presented over and over again in all their Indian stories, till in reading them you lose all sense of individual character. Mr. Flint’s History of the Mississippi Valley is a work of great interest, and information, and will, I hope, in time find its way to England, where I think it is much more likely to be appreciated than in America.
Dr. Channing is a writer too well known in England to require my testimony27 to his great ability. As a preacher he has, perhaps, hardly a rival any where. This gentleman is an Unitarian, and I was informed by several persons well acquainted with the literary character of the country, that nearly all their distinguished28 men were of this persuasion29.
Mr. Pierpoint is a very eloquent30 preacher, and a sweet poet. His works are not so well known among us as .they ought to be. Mr. Everett has written some beautiful lines, and if I may judge from the specimens31 of his speeches, as preserved in the volumes intitled “Eloquence of the United States,” I should say that he shone more as a poet than an orator33. But American fame has decided3 otherwise.
Mr. M. Flint, of Louisiana, has published a volume of poems which ought to be naturalised here. Mr. Hallock, of New York, has much facility of versification, and is greatly in fashion as a drawing-room poet, but I think he has somewhat too much respect for himself, and too little for his readers.
It is, I think, Mr. Bryant who ranks highest as the poet of the Union. This is too lofty an eminence34 for me to attack; besides, “I am of another parish,” and therefore, perhaps, no very fair judge.
From miscellaneous poetry I made a great many extracts, but upon returning to them for transcription I thought that ill-nature and dulness, (‘oh ill-matched pair!’) would be more served by their insertion, than wholesome35 criticism.
The massive Fredoniad of Dr. Emmons, in forty cantos, I never read; but as I did not meet a single native who had, I hope this want of poetical36 enterprise will be excused.
They have very few native tragedies; not more than half a dozen I believe, and those of very recent date. It would be ungenerous to fall heavily upon these; the attempt alone, nearly the most arduous37 a poet can make, is of itself honourable38: and the success at least equal to that in any other department of literature.
Mr. Paulding is a popular writer of novels; some of his productions have been recently republished in England. Miss Sedgwick is also well known among us; her “Hope Leslie” is a beautiful story. Mr. Washington Irving and Mr. Cooper have so decidedly chosen another field, whereon to reap their laurels39, that it is hardly necessary to name them here.
I am not, of course, competent to form any opinion of their scientific works; but some papers which I read almost accidentally, appeared to me to be written with great clearness, and neatness of definition.
It appears extraordinary that a people who loudly declare their respect for science, should be entirely40 without observatories41. Neither at their seats of learning, nor in their cities, does any thing of the kind exist; nor did I in any direction hear of individuals, given to the study of astronomy.
I had not the pleasure of making any acquaintance with Mr. Bowditch, of Boston, but I know that this gentleman ranks very high as a mathematician42 in the estimation of the scientific world of Europe.
Jefferson’s posthumous43 works were very generally circulated whilst I was in America. They are a mighty44 mass of mischief45. He wrote with more perspicuity46 than he thought, and his hot-headed democracy has done a fearful injury to his country. Hollow and unsound as his doctrines47 are, they are but too palatable48 to a people, each individual of whom would rather derive49 his importance from believing that none are above him, than from the consciousness that in his station he makes part of a noble whole. The social system of Mr. Jefferson, if carried into effect, would make of mankind an unamalgamated mass of grating atoms, where the darling “I’m as good as you,” would soon take place of the law and the Gospel. As it is, his principles, though happily not fully50 put in action, have yet produced most lamentable51 results. The assumption of equality, however empty, is sufficient to tincture the manners of the poor with brutal52 insolence53, and subjects the rich to the paltry54 expediency55 of sanctioning the falsehood, however deep their conviction that it is such. It cannot, I think, be denied that the great men of America attain56 to power and to fame, by eternally uttering what they know to be untrue. American citizens are not equal. Did Washington feel them to be so, when his word outweighed57 (so happily for them) the votes of thousands? Did Franklin think that all were equal when he shouldered his way from the printing press to the cabinet? True, he looked back in high good humour, and with his kindest smile told the poor devils whom he left behind, that they were all his equals; but Franklin did not speak the truth, and he knew it. The great, the immortal58 Jefferson himself, he who when past the three score years and ten, still taught young females to obey his nod, and so became the father of unnumbered generations of groaning59 slaves, what was his matin and his vesper hymn60? “All men are born free and equal.” Did the venerable father of the gang believe it? Or did he too purchase his immortality61 by a lie?
From the five heavy volumes of the “Eloquence of the United States,” I made a few extracts, which I give more for the sake of their political interest, than for any purpose of literary criticism.
Mr. Hancock (one of those venerated62 men who signed the act of independence), in speaking of England, thus expresses himself: “But if I was possessed63 of the gift of prophecy, I dare not (except by Divine command) unfold the leaves on which the destiny of that once powerful kingdom is inscribed64.” It is impossible not to regret that Mr. Hancock should thus have let “I dare not, wait upon I would.” It would have been exceedingly edifying65 to have known beforehand all the terrible things the republic was about to do for us.
This prophetic orator spoke66 the modest, yet awful words, above quoted, nearly sixty years ago; in these latter days men are become bolder, for in a modern 4th of July oration67, Mr. Rush, without waiting, I think, for Divine command, gives the following amiable68 portrait of the British character.
“In looking at Britain, we see a harshness of individual character in the general view of it, which is perceived and acknowledged by all Europe; a spirit of unbecoming censure69 as regards all customs and institutions not their own; a ferocity in some of their characteristics of national manners, pervading70 their very pastimes, which no other modern people are endued71 with the blunted sensibility to bear; an universal self-assumed superiority, not innocently manifesting itself in speculative72 sentiments among themselves, but unamiably indulged when with foreigners, of whatever description, in their own country, or when they themselves are the temporary sojourners in a foreign country; a code of criminal law that forgets to feel for human frailty73, that sports with human misfortune, that has shed more blood in deliberate judicial74 severity for two centuries past, constantly increasing, too, in its sanguinary hue75, than has ever been sanctioned by the jurisprudence of any ancient or modern nation, civilized76 and refined like herself; the merciless whippings in her army, peculiar77 to herself alone, the conspicuous78 commission and freest acknowledgment of vice79 in the upper classes; the overweening distinctions shown to opulence80 and birth, so destructive of a sound moral sentiment in the nation, so baffling to virtue81. These are some of the traits that rise up to a contemplation of the inhabitants of this isle82.”
Where is the alchymy that can extract from Captain Hall’s work one thousandth part of the ill-will contained in this one passage? Yet America has resounded83 from shore to shore with execrations against his barbarous calumnies84.
But now we will listen to another tone. Let us see how Americans can praise. Mr. Everett, in a recent 4th of July oration, speaks thus: —
“We are authorised to assert, that the era of our independence dates the establishment of the only perfect organization of government.” Again, “Our government is in its theory perfect, and in its operation it is perfect also. Thus we have solved the great problem in human affairs.” And again, “A frame of government perfect in its principles has been brought down from the airy regions of Utopia, and has found a local habitation and a name in our country.”
Among my miscellaneous reading, I got hold of an American publication giving a detailed85, and, indeed, an official account of the capture of Washington by the British, in 1814. An event so long past, and of so little ultimate importance, is, perhaps, hardly worth alluding86 to; but there are some passages in the official documents which I thought very amusing.
At the very moment of receiving the attack of the British on the heights of Bladensburgh, there seems to have been a most curious puzzle among the American generals, as to where they were to be stationed, and what they were to do. It is stated that the British threw themselves forward in open order, advancing singly. The American general (Winden) goes on in his narrative87 to describe what followed, thus:
“Our advanced riflemen now began to fire, and continued it for half a dozen rounds, when I observed them to run back to an orchard88. They halted there, and seemed for a moment about returning to their original position, but in a few moments entirely broke and retired89 to the left of Stansburg’s line. The advanced artillery90 immediately followed the riflemen.
“The first three or four rockets fired by the enemy were much above the heads of Stansburg’s line; but the rockets having taken a more horizontal direction, an universal flight of the centre and left of this brigade was the consequence. The 5th regiment91 and the artillery still remained, and I hoped would prevent the enemy’s approach, but they advancing singly, their fire annoyed the 5th considerably92, when I ordered it to retire, to put it out of the reach of the enemy. This order was, however, immediately countermanded93, from an aversion to retire before the necessity became stronger, and from a hope that the enemy would issue in a body, and enable us to act upon him on terms of equality. But the enemy’s fire beginning to annoy the 5th still more, by wounding several of them, and a strong column passing up the road, and deploying94 on its left, I ordered them to retire; their retreat became a flight of absolute and total disorder95.”
Of Beall’s regiment, the general gives the following succinct96 account — “It gave one or two ineffectual fires and fled.”
In another place he says, piteously, — “The cavalry97 would do any thing but charge.”
General Armstrong’s gentle and metaphysical account of the business was, that — “Without all doubt the determining cause of our disasters is to be found in the love of life.”
This affair at Washington, which in its result was certainly advantageous98 to America, inasmuch as it caused the present beautiful capitol to be built in the place of the one we burnt, was, nevertheless, considered as a national calamity99 at the time. In a volume of miscellaneous poems I met with one, written with the patriotic100 purpose of cheering the country under it; one triplet struck me as rather alarming for us, however soothing101 to America.
“Supposing George’s house at Kew
Were burnt, as we intend to do,
Would that be burning England too?”
I think I have before mentioned that no work of mere102 pleasantry has hitherto been found to answer; but a recent attempt of the kind as been made, with what success cannot as yet be decided. The editors are comedians103 belonging to the Boston company, and it is entitled “The American Comic Annual.” It is accompanied by etchings, somewhat in the manner, but by no means with the spirit of Cruikshank’s. Among the pleasantries of this lively volume are some biting attacks upon us, particularly upon our utter incapacity of speaking English. We really must engage a few American professors, or we shall lose all trace of classic purity in our language. As a specimen32, and rather a favourable104 one, of the work, I transcribed105 an extract from a little piece, entitled, “Sayings and Doings, a Fragment of a Farce106.” One of the personages of this farce is an English gentleman, a Captain Mandaville, and among many speeches of the same kind, I selected the following. Collins’s Ode is the subject of conversation.
“A— r, A— a — a it stroiks me that that you manetion his the hode about hangger and ope and orror and revenge you know. I’ve eard Mrs. Sitdowns hencored in it at Common Garden and Doory Lane in the ight of her poplarity you know. By the boye, hall the hactin in Amareka is werry orrid. You’re honely in the hinfancy of the istoryonic hart you know; your performers never haspirate the haitch in sich vords for instance as hink and hoats, and leave out the w in wice wanity you know; and make nothink of homittin the k in somethink.”
There is much more in the same style, but, perhaps, this may suffice. I have given this passage chiefly because it affords an example of the manner in which the generality of Americans are accustomed to speak of English pronunciation and phraseology.
It must be remembered, however, here and every where, that this phrase, “the Americans,” does not include the instructed and travelled portion of the community.
It would be absurd to swell107 my little volumes with extracts in proof of the veracity108 of their contents, but having spoken of the taste of their lighter109 works, and also of the general tone of manners, I cannot forbear inserting a page from an American annual (The Token), which purports110 to give a scene from fashionable life. It is part of a dialogue between a young lady of the “highest standing” and her “tutor,” who is moreover her lover, though not yet acknowledged.
“And so you wo’nt tell me,” said she, “what has come over you, and why you look as grave and sensible as a Dictionary, when, by general consent, even mine, ‘motley’s the only wear?’”
‘“Am I so grave, Miss Blair?”
‘“Are you so grave, Miss Blair? One would think I had not got my lesson today. Pray, sir, has the black ox trod upon your toe since we parted?”
‘Philip tried to laugh, but he did not succeed; he bit his lip and was silent.
‘“I am under orders to entertain you, Mr. Blondel, and if my poor brain can be made to gird this fairy isle, I shall certainly be obedient. So I begin with playing the leech111. What ails112 you, sir?”
‘“Miss Blair!” he was going to remonstrate113.
‘“Miss Blair! Now, pity. I’m a quack114! for whip me, if I know whether Miss Blair is a fever or an ague. How did you catch it, sir?”
‘“Really, Miss Blair — ”
‘“Nay, I see you don’t like doctoring; I give over, and now I’ll be sensible. It’s a fine day, Mr. Blondel.”
‘“Very.”
‘“A pleasant lane, this, to walk in, if one’s company were agreeable.”
‘“Does Mr. Skefton stay long?” asked Philip, abruptly115.
‘“No one knows,”
‘“Indeed! are you so ignorant?”
‘“And why does your wisdom ask that question?”’
In no society in the world can the advantage of travel be so conspicuous as in America, in other countries a tone of unpretending simplicity116 can more than compensate117 for the absence of enlarged views or accurate observation; but this tone is not to be found in America, or if it be, it is only among those who, having looked at that insignificant118 portion of the world not included in the Union, have learnt to know how much is still unknown within the mighty part which is. For the rest, they all declare, and do in truth believe, that they only, among the sons of men, have wit and wisdom, and that one of their exclusive privileges is that of speaking English elegantly. There are two reasons for this latter persuasion; the one is, that the great majority have never heard any English but their own, except from the very lowest of the Irish; and the other, that those who have chanced to find themselves in the society of the few educated English who have visited America, have discovered that there is a marked difference between their phrases and accents and those to which they have been accustomed, whereupon they have, of course, decided that no Englishman can speak English.
The reviews of America contain some good clear-headed articles; but I sought in vain for the playful vivacity119 and the keenly-cutting satire120, whose sharp edge, however painful to the patient, is of such high utility in lopping off the excrescences of bad taste, and levelling to its native clay the heavy growth of dulness. Still less could I find any trace of that graceful121 familiarity of learned allusion122 and general knowledge which mark the best European reviews, and which make one feel in such perfectly123 good company while perusing124 them. But this is a tone not to be found either in the writings or conversation of Americans; as distant from pedantry125 as from ignorance, it is not learning itself, but the effect of it; and so pervading and subtle is its influence that it may be traced in the festive126 halls and gay drawing-rooms of Europe as certainly as in the cloistered127 library or student’s closet; it is, perhaps, the last finish of highly-finished society.
A late American Quarterly has an article on a work of Dr. Von Schmidt Phiseldek, from which I made an extract, as a curious sample of the dreams they love to batten on.
Dr. Von Phiseldek (not Fiddlestick), who is not only a doctor of philosophy, but a knight128 of Dannebrog to boot, has never been in America, but he has written a prophecy, showing that the United States must and will govern the whole world, because they are so very big, and have so much uncultivated territory; he prophesies129 that an union will take place between North and South America, which will give a death-blow to Europe, at no distant period; though he modestly adds that he does not pretend to designate the precise period at which this will take place. This Danish prophecy, as may be imagined, enchants130 the reviewer. He exhorts131 all people to read Dr. Phiseldek’s book, because “nothing but good can come of such contemplations of the future, and because it is eminently132 calculated to awaken133 the most lofty anticipations134 of the destiny which awaits them, and will serve to impress upon the nation the necessity of being prepared for such high destiny.” In another place the reviewer bursts out, “America, young as she is, has become already the beacon135, the patriarch of the struggling nations of the world;” and afterwards adds, It would be departing from the natural order of things, and the ordinary operations of the great scheme of Providence136, it would be shutting our ears to the voice of experience, and our eyes to the inevitable137 connexion of causes and their effects, were we to reject the extreme probability, not to say moral certainty, that the old world is destined138 to receive its influences in future from the new.” There are twenty pages of this article, but I will only give one passage more; it is an instance of the sort of reasoning by which American citizens persuade themselves that the glory of Europe is, in reality, her reproach. “Wrapped up in a sense of his superiority, the European reclines at home, shining in his borrowed plumes139, derived140 from the product of every corner of the earth, and the industry of every portion of its inhabitants, with which his own natural resources would never have invested him, he continues revelling141 in enjoyments142 which nature has denied him.”
The American Quarterly deservedly holds the highest place in their periodical literature, and, therefore, may be fairly quoted as striking the keynote for the chorus of public opinion. Surely it is nationality rather than patriotism143 which leads it thus to speak in scorn of the successful efforts of enlightened nations to win from every corner of the earth the riches which nature has scattered144 over it.
The incorrectness of the press is very great; they make strange work in the reprints of French and Italian; and the Latin, I suspect, does not fare much better: I believe they do not often meddle145 with Greek.
With regard to the fine arts, their paintings, I think, are quite as good, or rather better, than might be expected from the patronage146 they receive; the wonder is that any man can be found with courage enough to devote himself to a profession in which he has so little chance of finding a maintenance. The trade of a carpenter opens an infinitely better prospect147; and this is so well known, that nothing but a genuine passion for the art could beguile148 any one to pursue it. The entire absence of every means of improvement, and effectual study, is unquestionably the cause why those who manifest this devotion cannot advance farther. I heard of one young artist, whose circumstances did not permit his going to Europe, but who being nevertheless determined149 that his studies should, as nearly as possible, resemble those of the European academies, was about to commence drawing the human figure, for which purpose he had provided himself with a thin silk dress, in which to clothe his models, as no one of any station, he said, could be found who would submit to sit as a model without clothing.
It was at Alexandria that I saw what I consider as the best picture by an American artist that I met with. The subject was Hagar and Ishmael. It had recently arrived from Rome, where the painter, a young man of the name of Chapman, had been studying for three years. His mother told me that he was twenty-two years of age, and passionately150 devoted151 to the art; should he, on returning to his country, receive sufficient encouragement to keep his ardour and his industry alive, I think I shall hear of him again.
Much is said about the universal diffusion152 of education in America, and a vast deal of genuine admiration is felt and expressed at the progress of mind throughout the Union. They believe themselves in all sincerity153 to have surpassed, to be surpassing, and to be about to surpass, the whole earth in the intellectual race. I am aware that not a single word can be said, hinting a different opinion, which will not bring down a transatlantic anathema154 on my head; yet the subject is too interesting to be omitted. Before I left England I remember listening, with much admiration, to an eloquent friend, who deprecated our system of public education, as confining the various and excursive faculties155 of our children to one beaten path, paying little or no attention to the peculiar powers of the individual.
This objection is extremely plausible156, but doubts of its intrinsic value must, I think, occur to every one who has marked the result of a different system throughout the United States.
From every enquiry I could make, and I took much pains to obtain accurate information, it appeared that much is attempted, but very little beyond reading, writing, and bookkeeping, is thoroughly157 acquired. Were we to read a prospectus158 of the system pursued in any of our public schools and that of a first-rate seminary in America, we should be struck by the confined scholastic159 routine of the former, when compared to the varied and expansive scope of the latter; but let the examination go a little farther, and I believe it will be found that the old fashioned school discipline of England has produced something higher, and deeper too, than that which roars so loud, and thunders in the index.
They will not afford to let their young men study till two or three and twenty, and it is therefore declared, ex cathedra Americana, to be unnecessary. At sixteen, often much earlier, education ends, and money-making begins; the idea that more learning is necessary than can be acquired by that time, is generally ridiculed161 as obsolete162 monkish163 bigotry164; added to which, if the seniors willed a more prolonged discipline, the juniors would refuse submission165. When the money-getting begins, leisure ceases, and all of lore166 which can be acquired afterwards, is picked up from novels, magazines, and newspapers.
At what time can the taste be formed? How can a correct and polished style, even of speaking, be acquired? or when can the fruit of the two thousand years of past thinking be added to the native growth of American intellect? These are the tools, if I may so express myself, which our elaborate system of school discipline puts into the hands of our scholars; possessed of these, they may use them in whatever direction they please afterwards, they can never be an incumbrance.
No people appear more anxious to excite admiration and receive applause than the Americans, yet none take so little trouble, or make so few sacrifices to obtain it. This may answer among themselves, but it will not with the rest of the world; individual sacrifices must be made, and national economy enlarged, before America can compete with the old world in taste, learning, and liberality.
The reception of General Lafayette is the one single instance in which the national pride has overcome the national thrift167; and this was clearly referrible to the one single feeling of enthusiasm of which they appear capable, namely, the triumph of their successful struggle for national independence. But though this feeling will be universally acknowledged as a worthy168 and lawful169 source of triumph and of pride, it will not serve to trade upon for ever, as a fund of glory and high station among the nations. Their fathers were colonists170; they fought stoutly171, and became an independent people. Success and admiration, even the admiration of those whose yoke172 they had broken, cheered them while living, still sheds a glory round their remote and untitled sepulchres, and will illumine the page of their history for ever.
Their children inherit the independence; they inherit too the honour of being the sons of brave fathers; but this will not give them the reputation at which they aim, of being scholars and gentlemen, nor will it enable them to sit down for evermore to talk of their glory, while they drink mint julap and chew tobacco, swearing by the beard of Jupiter (or some other oath) that they are very graceful, and agreeable, and, moreover abusing every body who does not cry out Amen!
To doubt that talent and mental power of every kind exist in America would be absurd; why should it not? But in taste and learning they are woefully deficient173; and it is this which renders them incapable174 of graduating a scale by which to measure themselves. Hence arises that over weening complacency and self-esteem, both national and individual, which at once renders them so extremely obnoxious175 to ridicule160, and so peculiarly restive176 under it.
If they will scorn the process by which other nations have become what they avowedly177 intend to be, they must rest satisfied with the praise and admiration they receive from each other; and turning a deaf ear to the criticism of the old world, consent to be their own prodigious178 great reward.”
Alexandria has its churches, chapels179, and conventicles as abundantly, in proportion to its size, as any city in the Union. I visited most of them, and in the Episcopal and Catholic heard the services performed quietly and reverently180.
The best sermon, however, that I listened to, was in a Methodist church, from the mouth of a Piquot Indian. It was impossible not be touched by the simple sincerity of this poor man. He gave a picture frightfully eloquent of the decay of his people under the united influence of the avarice181 and intemperance182 of the white men. He described the effect of the religious feeling which had recently found its way among them as most salutary. The purity of his moral feeling, and the sincerity of his sympathy with his forest brethren, made it unquestionable that he must be the most valuable priest who could officiate for them. His English was very correct, and his pronunciation but slightly tinctured by native accent.
While we were still in the neighbourhood of Washington, a most violent and unprecedented183 schism184 occurred in the cabinet. The four secretaries of State all resigned, leaving General Jackson to manage the queer little state barge185 alone.
Innumerable contradictory186 statements appeared upon this occasion in the papers, and many a cigar was thrown aside, ere half consumed, that the disinterested187 politician might give breath to his cogitations on this extraordinary event; but not all the eloquence of all the smokers188, nor even the ultradiplomatic expositions which appeared from the seceding189 secretaries themselves, could throw any light on the mysterious business. It produced, however, the only tolerable caricature I ever saw in the country. It represents the President seated alone in his cabinet, wearing a look of much discomfiture190, and making great exertions191 to detain one of four rats, who are running off, by placing his foot on the tail. The rats’ heads bear a very sufficient resemblance to the four ex-ministers. General Jackson, it seems, had requested Mr. Van Buren, the Secretary of State, to remain in office till his place was supplied; this gave occasion to a bon mot from his son, who, being asked when his father would be in New York, replied, “When the President takes off his foot.”
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penetrates
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| v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 )；刺入；了解；渗透 | |
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dignified
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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6
eulogy
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| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
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lauded
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| v.称赞，赞美( laud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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9
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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11
muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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12
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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13
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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16
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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17
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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18
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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19
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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20
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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21
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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22
memoirs
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| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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23
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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24
mimics
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| n.模仿名人言行的娱乐演员，滑稽剧演员( mimic的名词复数 )；善于模仿的人或物v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的第三人称单数 )；酷似 | |
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25
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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26
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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27
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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28
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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29
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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30
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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31
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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33
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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34
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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35
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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37
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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38
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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39
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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40
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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41
observatories
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| n.天文台，气象台( observatory的名词复数 ) | |
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42
mathematician
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| n.数学家 | |
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43
posthumous
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| adj.遗腹的；父亡后出生的；死后的，身后的 | |
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44
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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45
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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46
perspicuity
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| n.（文体的）明晰 | |
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47
doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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48
palatable
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| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
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49
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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50
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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51
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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52
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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53
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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54
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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55
expediency
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| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
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56
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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57
outweighed
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| v.在重量上超过( outweigh的过去式和过去分词 )；在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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58
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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59
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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60
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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61
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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62
venerated
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| 敬重（某人或某事物），崇敬( venerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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64
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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65
edifying
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| adj.有教训意味的，教训性的，有益的v.开导，启发( edify的现在分词 ) | |
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66
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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67
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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68
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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69
censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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70
pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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71
endued
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| v.授予，赋予（特性、才能等）( endue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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73
frailty
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| n.脆弱；意志薄弱 | |
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74
judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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75
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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76
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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77
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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78
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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79
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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80
opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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81
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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82
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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83
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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84
calumnies
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| n.诬蔑，诽谤，中伤（的话）( calumny的名词复数 ) | |
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85
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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86
alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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87
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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88
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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89
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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90
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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91
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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92
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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93
countermanded
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| v.取消（命令），撤回( countermand的过去分词 ) | |
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94
deploying
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的现在分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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95
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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96
succinct
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| adj.简明的，简洁的 | |
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97
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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98
advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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99
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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100
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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101
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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102
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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103
comedians
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| n.喜剧演员，丑角( comedian的名词复数 ) | |
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104
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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105
transcribed
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| （用不同的录音手段）转录( transcribe的过去式和过去分词 )； 改编（乐曲）（以适应他种乐器或声部）； 抄写； 用音标标出（声音） | |
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106
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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107
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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108
veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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109
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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110
purports
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| v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的第三人称单数 ) | |
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111
leech
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| n.水蛭，吸血鬼，榨取他人利益的人；vt.以水蛭吸血；vi.依附于别人 | |
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112
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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113
remonstrate
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| v.抗议，规劝 | |
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114
quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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115
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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116
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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117
compensate
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| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
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118
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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119
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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120
satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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121
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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122
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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123
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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124
perusing
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的现在分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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125
pedantry
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| n.迂腐，卖弄学问 | |
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126
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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127
cloistered
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| adj.隐居的，躲开尘世纷争的v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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129
prophesies
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的第三人称单数 ) | |
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130
enchants
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| 使欣喜，使心醉( enchant的第三人称单数 )； 用魔法迷惑 | |
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131
exhorts
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| n.劝勉者，告诫者，提倡者( exhort的名词复数 )v.劝告，劝说( exhort的第三人称单数 ) | |
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132
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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134
anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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135
beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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136
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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137
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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138
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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139
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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140
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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141
revelling
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| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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142
enjoyments
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| 愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 )； 令人愉快的事物； 享有； 享受 | |
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143
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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144
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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145
meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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146
patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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148
beguile
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| vt.欺骗，消遣 | |
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149
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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150
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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151
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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152
diffusion
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| n.流布；普及；散漫 | |
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153
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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154
anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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155
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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156
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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157
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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158
prospectus
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| n.计划书；说明书；慕股书 | |
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159
scholastic
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| adj.学校的，学院的，学术上的 | |
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160
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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161
ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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162
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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163
monkish
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| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
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164
bigotry
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| n.偏见，偏执，持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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165
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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166
lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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167
thrift
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| adj.节约，节俭；n.节俭，节约 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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169
lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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170
colonists
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| n.殖民地开拓者，移民，殖民地居民( colonist的名词复数 ) | |
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171
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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172
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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173
deficient
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| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
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174
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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175
obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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176
restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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177
avowedly
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| adv.公然地 | |
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178
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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179
chapels
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| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
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180
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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181
avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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182
intemperance
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| n.放纵 | |
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183
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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184
schism
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| n.分派，派系，分裂 | |
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185
barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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186
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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187
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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188
smokers
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| 吸烟者( smoker的名词复数 ) | |
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189
seceding
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| v.脱离，退出( secede的现在分词 ) | |
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190
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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191
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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