University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER III.

Monday, 18th.—"St. Patrick's day in the morning" being
on the 17th, was kept by the Irish to-day. In the early
morning the sounds of drumming, fifing, and bugling came
with the hot water and my Irish attendant into the room.
He told me: "We'll have a pretty nice day for it. The
weather's often agin us on St. Patrick's day." At the angle
of the square outside I saw a company of volunteers assembling.
They wore bear-skin caps, some turned brown, and
rusty green coatees, with white facings and crossbelts, a good
deal of gold-lace and heavy worsted epaulettes, and were
armed with ordinary muskets, some of them with flint-locks.
Over their heads floated a green and gold flag with mystic
emblems, and a harp and sunbeams. A gentleman, with an
imperfect seat on horseback, which justified a suspicion that
he was not to the manor born of Squire or Squireen, with
much difficulty was getting them into line, and endangering
his personal safety by a large infantry-sword, the hilt of which
was complicated with the bridle of his charger in some inexplicable
manner. This gentleman was the officer in command
of the martial body, who were gathering to do honor to the
festival of the old country; and the din and clamor in the
streets, the strains of music, and the tramp of feet outside
announced that similar associations were on their way to the
rendezvous. The waiters in the hotel, all of whom were Irish,
had on their best, and wore an air of pleased importance.
Many of their countrymen outside on the pavement exhibited
very large decorations, plates of metal, and badges attached
to broad ribbons over their left breasts.

After breakfast I struggled with a friend through the crowd
which thronged Union Square. Bless them! They were all
Irish, judging from speech and gesture and look; for the

most part decently dressed, and comfortable, evidently bent
on enjoying the day in spite of the cold, and proud of the
privilege of interrupting all the trade of the principal streets,
in which the Yankees most do congregate, for the day. They
were on the door-steps, and on the pavement men, women,
and children, admiring the big policemen—many of them
compatriots—and they swarmed at the corners, cheering
popular town-councillors or local celebrities. Broadway was
equally full. Flags were flying from the windows and steeples
—and on the cold breeze came the hammering of drums
and the blasts of many wind instruments. The display, such
as it was, partook of a military character, though not much
more formidable in that sense than the march of the Trades
Unions, or of Temperance Societies. Imagine Broadway
lined for the long miles of its course by spectators mostly
Hibernian, and the great gaudy stars and stripes, or as one
of the Secession journals I see styles it, the "Sanguinary
United States Gridiron"—waving in all directions, whilst up
its centre in the mud march the children of Erin.

First came the acting Brigadier-General and his staff, escorted
by 40 lancers, very ill-dressed, and worse mounted:
horses dirty, accoutrements in the same condition, bits, bridles,
and buttons rusty and tarnished; uniforms ill-fitting, and badly
put on. But the red flags and the show pleased the crowd,
and they cheered "bould Nugent" right loudly. A band followed,
some members of which had been evidently "smiling"
with each other; and next marched a body of drummers in
military uniform, rattling away in the French fashion. Here
comes the 69th N. Y. State Militia Regiment—the battalion
which would not turn out when the Prince of Wales was in
New York, and whose Colonel, Corcoran, is still under court
martial for his refusal. Well, the Prince had no loss, and the
Colonel may have had other besides political reasons for his
dislike to parade his men.

The regiment turned out, I should think, only 200 or 220
men, fine fellows enough, but not in the least like soldiers or
militia. The United States uniform which most of the military
bodies wore, consists of a blue tunic and trousers, and a
kepi-like cap, with "U. S." in front for undress. In full dress
the officers wear large gold epaulettes, and officers and men a
bandit-sort of felt hat looped up at one side, and decorated
with a plume of black-ostrich feathers and silk cords. The
absence of facings, and the want of something to finish off the

collar and cuffs, render the tunic very bald and unsightly.
Another band closed the rear of the 69th, and to eke out the
military show, which in all was less than 1200 men, some companies
were borrowed from another regiment of State Militia,
and a troop of very poor cavalry cleared the way for the
Napper-Tandy Artillery, which actually had three whole guns
with them! It was strange to dwell on some of the names of
the societies which followed. For instance, there were the
"Dungannon Volunteers of '82," prepared of course to vindicate
the famous declaration that none should make laws for
Ireland, but the Queen, Lords, and Commons of Ireland!
Every honest Catholic among them ignorant of the fact that
the Volunteers of '82 were all Protestants. Then there was
the "Sarsfield Guard!" One cannot conceive anything more
hateful to the fiery high-spirited cavalier, than the republican
form of Government, which these poor Irishmen are, they
think, so fond of. A good deal of what passes for national
sentiment, is in reality dislike to England and religious animosity.

It was much more interesting to see the long string of
Benevolent, Friendly, and Provident Societies, with bands,
numbering many thousands, all decently clad, and marching
in order with banners, insignia, badges, and ribbons, and the
Irish flag flying along-side the "stars and stripes." I cannot
congratulate them on the taste or good effect of their accessories
—on their symbolical standards, and ridiculous old harpers,
carried on stages in "bardic costume," very like artificial
white wigs and white cotton dressing-gowns, but the actual
good done by these societies, is, I am told, very great, and
their charity would cover far greater sins than incorrectness
of dress, and a proneness to "piper's playing on the national
bagpipes." The various societies mustered upwards of 10,000
men, some of them uniformed and armed, others dressed in
quaint garments, and all as noisy as music and talking could
make them. The Americans appeared to regard the whole
thing very much as an ancient Roman might have looked on
the Saturnalia; but Paddy was in the ascendant, and could
not be openly trifled with.

The crowds remained in the streets long after the procession
had passed, and I saw various pickpockets captured by
the big policemen, and conveyed to appropriate receptacles.
"Was there any man of eminence in that procession," I
asked. "No; a few small local politicians, some wealthy

store-keepers, and beer-saloon owners perhaps; but the mass
were of the small bourgeoisie. Such a man as Mr. O'Conor,
who may be considered at the head of the New York bar
for instance, would not take part in it."

In the evening I went, according to invitation, to the Astor
House—a large hotel, with a front like a railway terminus,
in the Americo-Classical style, with great Doric columns and
portico, and found, to my surprise, that the friendly party
was to be a great public dinner. The halls were filled with
the company, few or none in evening dress; and in a few
minutes I was presented to at least twenty-four gentlemen
whose names I did not even hear. The use of badges, medals,
and ribbons, might, at first, lead a stranger to believe he
was in very distinguished military society; but he would soon
learn that these insignia were the decorations of benevolent
or convivial associations. There is a latent taste for these
things in spite of pure republicanism. At the dinner there
were Americans of Dutch and English descent, some "Yankees,"
one or two Englishmen, Scotchmen, and Welshmen.
The chairman, Judge Daly, was indeed a true son of the
soil, and his speeches were full of good humor, fluency, and
wit; but his greatest effect was produced by the exhibition of
a tuft of shamrocks in a flower-pot, which had been sent
from Ireland for the occasion. This is done annually, but,
like the miracle of St. Januarius, it never loses its effect, and
always touches the heart.

I confess it was to some extent curiosity to observe the
sentiment of the meeting, and a desire to see how Irishmen
were affected by the change in their climate, which led me to
the room. I came away regretting deeply that so many
natives of the British Isles should be animated with a hostile
feeling towards England, and that no statesman has yet arisen
who can devise a panacea for the evils of these passionate
and unmeaning differences between races and religions. Their
strong antipathy is not diminished by the impossibility of gratifying
it. They live in hope, and certainly the existence of
these feelings is not only troublesome to American statesmen,
but mischievous to the Irish themselves, inasmuch as they are
rendered with unusual readiness the victims of agitators or
political intriguers. The Irish element, as it is called, is much
regarded in voting times, by suffraging bishops and others; at
other times, it is left to its work and its toil—Mr. Seward and
Bishop Hughes are supposed to be its present masters. Undoubtedly

the mass of those I saw to-day were better clad than
they would have been if they remained at home. As I said
in the speech which I was forced to make much against my
will, by the gentle violence of my companions, never had I
seen so many good hats and coats in an assemblage of Irishmen
in any other part of the world.

March 19. The morning newspapers contain reports of
last night's speeches which are amusing in one respect, at all
events, as affording specimens of the different versions which
may be given of the same matter. A "citizen" who was kind
enough to come in to shave me, paid me some easy compliments,
in the manner of the "Barber of Seville," on what he
termed the "oration" of the night before, and then proceeded
to give his notions of the merits and defects of the American
Constitution. "He did not care much about the Franchise—
it was given to too many he thought. A man must be five
years resident in New York before he is admitted to the privileges
of voting. When an emigrant arrived, a paper was delivered
to him to certify the fact, which he produced after
lapse of five years, when he might be registered as a voter; if
he omitted the process of registration, he could however vote
if identified by two householders, and a low lot," observed the
barber, "they are—Irish and such like. I don't want any
of their votes."

In the afternoon a number of gentlemen called, and made
the kindest offers of service; letters of introduction to all
parts of the States; facilities of every description—all tendered
with frankness.

I was astonished to find little sympathy and no respect for
the newly installed Government. They were regarded as
obscure or undistinguished men. I alluded to the circumstance
that one of the journals continued to speak of "The President"
in the most contemptuous manner, and to designate him as the
great "Rail-Splitter." "Oh yes," said the gentleman with
whom I was conversing, "that must strike you as a strange
way of mentioning the Chief Magistrate of our great Republic,
but the fact is, no one minds what the man writes of any one,
his game is to abuse every respectable man in the country in
order to take his revenge on them for his social exclusion, and
at the same time to please the ignorant masses who delight in
vituperation and scandal."

In the evening, dining again with my friend the banker, I
had a favorable opportunity of hearing more of the special

pleading which is brought to bear on the solution of the gravest
political questions. It would seem as if a council of physicians
were wrangling with each other over abstract dogmas
respecting life and health, whilst their patient was struggling
in the agonies of death before them! In the comfortable and
well-appointed house wherein I met several men of position,
acquirements, and natural sagacity, there was not the smallest
evidence of uneasiness on account of circumstances which, to
the eye of a stranger, betokened an awful crisis, if not the
impending dissolution of society itself. Stranger still, the
acts which are bringing about such a calamity are not regarded
with disfavor, or, at least, are not considered unjustifiable.

Among the guests were the Hon. Horatio Seymour, a former
Governor of the State of New York; Mr. Tylden, an
acute lawyer; and Mr. Bancroft. The result left on my mind
by their conversation and arguments was that, according to
the Constitution, the Government could not employ force to
prevent secession, or to compel States which had seceded by
the will of the people to acknowledge the Federal power. In
fact, according to them, the Federal Government was the
mere machine put forward by a Society of Sovereign States,
as a common instrument for certain ministerial acts, more
particularly those which affected the external relations of the
Confederation. I do not think that any of the guests sought
to turn the channel of talk upon politics, but the occasion offered
itself to Mr. Horatio Seymour to give me his views of
the Constitution of the United States, and by degrees the
theme spread over the table. I had bought the "Constitution"
for three cents in Broadway in the forenoon, and had
read it carefully, but I could not find that it was self-expounding;
it referred itself to the Supreme Court, but what was to
support the Supreme Court in a contest with armed power,
either of Government or people? There was not a man who
maintained the Government had any power to coerce the
people of a State, or to force a State to remain in the Union,
or under the action of the Federal Government; in other
words, the symbol of power at Washington is not at all analogous
to that which represents an established Government in
other countries. Quid prosunt leges sine armis? Although
they admitted the Southern leaders had meditated "the treason
against the Union" years ago, they could not bring themselves
to allow their old opponents, the Republicans now in

power, to dispose of the armed force of the Union against
their brother democrats in the Southern States.

Mr. Seymour is a man of compromise, but his views go
farther than those which were entertained by his party ten
years ago. Although secession would produce revolution, it
was, nevertheless, "a right," founded on abstract principles,
which could scarcely be abrogated consistently with due regard
to the original compact. One of the company made a
remark which was true enough, I dare say. We were talking
of the difficulty of relieving Fort Sumter—an infallible
topic just now. "If the British or any foreign power were
threatening the fort," said he, "our Government would find
means of relieving it fast enough." In fact, the Federal Government
is groping in the dark; and whilst its friends are
telling it to advance boldly, there are myriad voices shrieking
out in its ears, "If you put out a foot you are lost." There
is neither army nor navy available, and the ministers have no
machinery of rewards, and means of intrigue, or modes of
gaining adherents known to European administrations. The
democrats behold with silent satisfaction the troubles into
which the Republican triumph has plunged the country, and
are not at all disposed to extricate them. The most notable
way of impeding their efforts is to knock them down with the
"Constitution" every time they rise to the surface and begin
to swim out.

New York society, however, is easy in its mind just now,
and the upper world of millionnaire merchants, bankers, contractors,
and great traders are glad that the vulgar Republicans
are suffering for their success. Not a man there but resented
the influence given by universal suffrage to the mob of the
city, and complained of the intolerable effects of their ascendency
—of the corruption of the municipal bodies, the venality
of electors and elected, and the abuse, waste, and profligate
outlay of the public funds. Of these there were many illustrations
given to me, garnished with historietts of some of the
civic dignitaries, and of their coadjutors in the press; but it
did not require proof that universal suffrage in a city of which
perhaps three fourths of the voters were born abroad or of
foreign parents, and of whom many were the scum swept off
the seethings of European populations, must work most injuriously
on property and capital. I confess it is to be much
wondered at that the consequences are not more evil; but no
doubt the time is coming when the mischief can no longer

be borne, and a social reform and revolution must be inevitable.

Within only a very few hundreds of yards from the house
and picture-gallery of Mons. B—, the representative of
European millions, are the hovels and lodgings of his equals
in political power. This evening I visited the house of Mons.
B—, where his wife had a reception, to which nearly the
whole of the party went. When a man looks at a suit of
armor made to order by the first blacksmith in Europe, he
observes that the finish of the joints and hinges is much higher
than in the old iron clothes of the former time. Possibly the
metal is better, and the chasings and garniture as good as the
work of Milan, but the observer is not for a moment led to
imagine that the fabric has stood proof of blows, or that it
smacks of ancient watch-fire. If he were asked why it is so,
he could not tell; any more perhaps than he could define exactly
the difference between the lustrous, highly-jewelled, well-greaved
Achaian of New York and the very less effective and
showy creature who will in every society over the world pass
muster as a gentleman. Here was an elegant house—I use
the word in its real meaning—with pretty statues, rich carpets,
handsome furniture and a gallery of charming Meissoniers
and genre pieces; the saloons admirably lighted—a fair
fine large suite, filled with the prettiest women in the most
delightful toilets, with a proper fringe of young men, orderly,
neat, and well turned-out, fretting against the usual
advanced posts of turbaned and jewelled dowagers, and provided
with every accessory to make the whole good society;
for there was wit, sense, intelligence, vivacity; and yet there
was something wanting—not in host or hostess, or company,
or house—where was it?—which was conspicuous by its
absence. Mr. Bancroft was kind enough to introduce me to
the most lovely faces and figures, and so far enable me to
judge that nothing could be more beautiful, easy, or natural
than the womanhood or girlhood of New York. It is prettiness
rather than fineness; regular, intelligent, wax-like faces,
graceful little figures; none of the grandiose Roman type
which Von Raumer recognized in London, as in the Holy
City, a quarter of a century ago. Natheless, the young men
of New York ought to be thankful and grateful, and try to be
worthy of it. Late in the evening I saw these same young
men, Novi Eboracenses, at their club, dicing for drinks and
oathing for nothing, and all very friendly and hospitable.

The club-house is remarkable as the mansion of a happy
man who invented or patented a waterproof hat-lining, whereby
he built a sort of Sallustian villa, with a central courtyard,
à l'Alhambra, with fountains and flowers, now passed
away to the New York Club. Here was Pratt's, or the defunct
Fielding, or the old C. C. C.'s in disregard of time and
regard of drinks—and nothing more.