 | CHAPTER III. Home as found |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
“Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful!”
Shakspeare.
As Captain Truck asked permission to initiate the
new coal-tongs by lighting a cigar, Sir George Templemore
contrived to ask Pierre, in an aside, if the ladies
would allow him to join them. The desired consent
having been obtained, the baronet quietly stole
from table, and was soon beyond the odours of the
dining-room.
“You miss the censer and the frankincense,” said
Eve, laughing, as Sir George entered the drawing-room;
“but you will remember we have no church
establishment, and dare not take such liberties with the
ceremonials of the altar.”
“That is a short-lived custom with us, I fancy,
though far from an unpleasant one. But you do me
injustice in supposing I am merely running away from
the fumes of the dinner.”
“No, no; we understand perfectly well that you
have something to do with the fumes of flattery, and
we will at once fancy all has been said that the occasion
requires. Is not our honest old captain a jewel
in his way?”
“Upon my word, since you allow me to speak of
your father's guests, I do not think it possible to have
opposites of each other, as Captain Truck and this Mr.
Aristabulus Bragg. The latter is quite the most extraordinary
person in his way, it was ever my good fortune
to meet with.”
“You call him a person, while Pierre calls him a
personnage; I fancy he considers it very much as a
matter of accident, whether he is to pass his days in
the one character or in the other. Cousin Jack assures
me, that, while this man accepts almost any duty that
he chooses to assign him, he would not deem it at all
a violation of the convenances to aim at the throne in
the White House.”
“Certainly with no hopes of ever attaining it!”
“One cannot answer for that. The man must undergo
many essential changes, and much radical improvement,
before such a climax to his fortunes can
ever occur; but the instant you do away with the
claims of hereditary power, the door is opened to a
new chapter of accidents. Alexander of Russia styled
himself un heureux accident; and should it ever be our
fortune to receive Mr. Bragg as President, we shall
only have to term him un malheureux accident. I
believe that will contain all the difference.”
“Your republicanism is indomitable, Miss Effingham,
and I shall abandon the attempt to convert you to safer
principles, more especially as I find you supported by
both the Mr. Effinghams, who, while they condemn so
much at home, seem singularly attached to their own
system at the bottom.”
“They condemn, Sir George Templemore, because
they know that perfection is hopeless, and because
they feel it to be unsafe and unwise to eulogize defects,
and they are attached, because near views of other
countries have convinced them that, comparatively at
least, bad as we are, we are still better than most of
our neighbours.”
“I can assure you,” said Grace, “that many of the
opinions of Mr. John Effingham, in particular, are not
rather censures what we like, and likes what we censure.
Even my dear uncle is thought to be a little
heterodox on such subjects.”
“I can readily believe it,” returned Eve, steadily.
“These gentlemen, having become familiar with better
things, in the way of the tastes, and of the purely
agreeable, cannot discredit their own knowledge so
much as to extol that which their own experience tells
them is faulty, or condemn that which their own experience
tells them is relatively good. Now, Grace, if
you will reflect a moment, you will perceive that people
necessarily like the best of their own tastes, until
they come to a knowledge of better; and that they as
necessarily quarrel with the unpleasant facts that surround
them; although these facts, as consequences of
a political system, may be much less painful than those
of other systems of which they have no knowledge.
In the one case, they like their own best, simply because
it is their own best; and they dislike their own worst,
because it is their own worst. We cherish a taste, in
the nature of things, without entering into any comparisons,
for when the means of comparison offer, and
we find improvements, it ceases to be a taste at all;
while to complain of any positive grievance, is the
nature of man, I fear!”
“I think a republic odious!”
“Le republique est une horreur!”
Grace thought a republic odious, without knowing
any thing of any other state of society, and because
it contained odious things; and Mademoiselle Viefville
called a republic une horreur, because heads fell and
anarchy prevailed in her own country, during its early
struggles for liberty. Though Eve seldom spoke more
sensibly, and never more temperately, than while delivering
the foregoing opinions, Sir George Templemore
doubted whether she had all that exquisite finesse and
delicacy of features, that he had so much admired; and
exclamation we have recorded, he turned towards her
sweet and animated countenance, which, for the moment,
he fancied the loveliest of the two.
Eve Effingham had yet to learn that she had just
entered into the most intolerant society, meaning purely
as society, and in connexion with what are usually
called liberal sentiments, in christendom. We do not
mean by this, that it would be less safe to utter a generous
opinion in favour of human rights in America than
in any other country, for the laws and the institutions
become active in this respect, but simply, that the resistance
of the more refined to the encroachments of the
unrefined, has brought about a state of feeling—a feeling
that is seldom just and never philosophical—which
has created a silent but almost unanimous bias against
the effects of the institutions, in what is called the
world. In Europe, one rarely utters a sentiment of
this nature, under circumstances in which it is safe to
do so at all, without finding a very general sympathy
in the auditors; but in the circle into which Eve had
now fallen, it was almost considered a violation of the
proprieties. We do not wish to be understood as saying
more than we mean, however, for we have no
manner of doubt that a large portion of the dissentients
even, are so idly, and without reflection; or for the
very natural reasons already given by our heroine;
but we do wish to be understood as meaning that such
is the outward appearance which American society
presents to every stranger, and to every native of the
country too, on his return from a residence among
other people. Of its taste, wisdom and safety we
shall not now speak, but content ourselves with merely
saying that the effect of Grace's exclamation on Eve
was unpleasant, and that, unlike the baronet, she
thought her cousin was never less handsome than
while her pretty face was covered with the pettish
frown it had assumed for the occasion.
Sir George Templemore had tact enough to perceive
there had been a slight jar in the feelings of these two
young women, and he adroitly changed the conversation.
With Eve he had entire confidence on the score
of provincialisms, and, without exactly anticipating
the part Grace would be likely to take in such a discussion,
he introduced the subject of general society
in New-York.
“I am desirous to know,” he said, “if you have
your sets, as we have them in London and Paris.
Whether you have your Faubourg St. Germain and
your Chaussée d'Antin; your Piccadilly, Grosvenor
and Russel Squares.”
“I must refer you to Miss Van Cortlandt for an
answer to that question,” said Eve.
Grace looked up blushing, for there were both novelty
and excitement in having an intelligent foreigner
question her on such a subject.
“I do not know that I rightly understand the allusion,”
she said, “although I am afraid Sir George Templemore
means to ask if we have distinctions in society?”
“And why afraid, Miss Van Cortlandt?”
“Because it strikes me such a question would imply
a doubt of our civilization.”
“There are frequently distinctions made, when
the differences are not obvious,” observed Eve. “Even
London and Paris are not above the imputation of this
folly. Sir George Templemore, if I understand him,
wishes to know if we estimate gentility by streets, and
quality by squares.”
“Not exactly that either, Miss Effingham—but, whether
among those, who may very well pass for gentlemen
and ladies, you enter into the minute distinctions
that are elsewhere found. Whether you have your
exclusives, and your élégants and élégantes; or whether
you deem all within the pale as on an equality.”
“Les femmes Americaines sont bien jolies!” exclaimed
Mademoiselle Viefville.
“It is quite impossible that coteries should not form
in a town of three hundred thousand souls.”
“I do not mean exactly even that. Is there no distinction
between coteries; is not one placed by opinion,
by a silent consent, if not by positive ordinances, above
another?”
“Certainly, that to which Sir George Templemore
alludes, is to be found,” said Grace, who gained courage
to speak, as she found the subject getting to be
more clearly within her comprehension. “All the old
families, for instance, keep more together than the
others; though it is the subject of regret that they are
not more particular than they are.”
“Old families!” exclaimed Sir George Templemore,
with quite as much stress as a well-bred man could
very well lay on the words, in such circumstances.
“Old families,” repeated Eve, with all that emphasis
which the baronet himself had hesitated about giving.
“As old, at least, as two centuries can make
them; and this, too, with origins beyond that period,
like those of the rest of the world. Indeed, the American
has a better gentility than common, as, besides
his own, he may take root in that of Europe.”
“Do not misconceive me, Miss Effingham; I am
fully aware that the people of this country are exactly
like the people of all other civilized countries, in this
respect; but my surprise is that, in a republic, you
should have such a term even as that of `old families.”'
“The surprise has arisen, I must be permitted to say,
from not having sufficiently reflected on the real state
of the country. There are two great causes of distinction
every where, wealth and merit. Now, if a
race of Americans continue conspicuous in their own
society, through either or both of these causes, for a
succession of generations, why have they not the same
claims to be considered members of old families, as
history is as much history as a monarchical
history; and a historical name in one, is quite as much
entitled to consideration, as a historical name in another.
Nay, you admit this in your European republics,
while you wish to deny it in ours.”
“I must insist on having proofs; if we permit these
charges to be brought against us without evidence,
Mademoiselle Viefville, we shall finally be defeated
through our own neglect.”
“C'est une belle illustration, celle de l'antiquité,” observed
the governess, in a matter of course tone.
“If you insist on proof, what answer can you urge
to the Capponi? `Sonnez vos trompettes, et je vais faire
sonner mes cloches,'—or to the Von Erlachs, a family
that has headed so many resistances to oppression and
invasion, for five centuries?”
“All this is very true,” returned Sir George, “and
yet I confess it is not the way in which it is usual with
us to consider American society.”
“A descent from Washington, with a character and
a social position to correspond, would not be absolutely
vulgar, notwithstanding!”
“Nay, if you press me so hard, I must appeal to
Miss Van Cortlandt for succour.”
“On this point you will find no support in that
quarter. Miss Van Cortlandt has an historical name
herself, and will not forego an honest pride, in order
to relieve one of the hostile powers from a dilemma.”
“While I admit that time and merit must, in a certain
sense, place families in America in the same situation
with families in Europe, I cannot see that it is in conformity
with your institutions to lay the same stress on
the circumstance.”
“In that we are perfectly of a mind, as I think the
American has much the best reason to be proud of his
family,” said Eve, quietly.
“You delight in paradoxes, apparently, this evening,
Miss Effingham, for I now feel very certain you can
“If I had my old ally, Mr. Powis, here,” said Eve,
touching the fender unconsciously with her little foot,
and perceptibly losing the animation and pleasantry of
her voice, in tones that were gentler, if not melancholy,
“I should ask him to explain this matter to you, for he
was singularly ready in such replies. As he is absent,
however, I will attempt the duty myself. In Europe,
office, power, and consequently, consideration, are all
hereditary; whereas, in this country, they are not, but
they depend on selection. Now, surely, one has more
reason to be proud of ancestors who have been chosen
to fill responsible stations, than of ancestors who have
filled them through the accidents, heureux ou malheureux,
of birth. The only difference between England
and America, as respects family, is that you add positive
rank to that to which we only give consideration.
Sentiment is at the bottom of our nobility, and the
great seal at the bottom of yours. And now, having
established the fact that there are families in America,
let us return whence we started, and enquire how far
they have an influence in every-day society.”
“To ascertain which, we must apply to Miss Van
Cortlandt.”
“Much less than they ought, if my opinion is to be
taken,” said Grace, laughing, “for the great inroad of
strangers has completely deranged all the suitablenesses,
in that respect.”
“And yet, I dare say, these very strangers do good,”
rejoined Eve. “Many of them must have been respectable
in their native places, and ought to be an acquisition
to a society that, in its nature, must be, Grace,
tant soit peu, provincial.”
“Oh!” cried Grace, “I can tolerate any thing but
the Hajjis!”
“The what?” asked Sir George, eagerly—“will you
suffer me to ask an explanation, Miss Van Cortlandt.”
“The Hajjis,” repeated Grace laughing, though she
blushed to the eyes.
The baronet looked from one cousin to the other,
and then turned an inquiring glance on Mademoiselle
Viefville. The latter gave a slight shrug, and seemed
to ask an explanation of the young lady's meaning
herself.
“A Hajji is one of a class, Sir George Templemore,”
Eve at length said, “to which you and I have
both the honour of belonging.”
“No, not Sir George Templemore,” interrupted
Grace, with a precipitation that she instantly regretted;
“he is not an American.”
“Then I, alone, of all present, have that honour. It
means the pilgrimage to Paris, instead of Mecca; and
the Pilgrim must be an American, instead of a Mahommedan.”
“Nay, Eve, you are not a Hajji, neither.”
“Then there is some qualification with which I am
not yet acquainted. Will you relieve our doubts,
Grace, and let us know the precise character of the
animal.”
“You stayed too long to be a Hajji—one must get
innoculated merely; not take the disease and become
cured, to be a true Hajji.”
“I thank you, Miss Van Cortlandt, for this description,”
returned Eve in her quiet way. “I hope, as I
have gone through the malady, it has not left me pitted.”
“I should like to see one of these Hajjis,” cried Sir
George.—“Are they of both sexes?”
Grace laughed and nodded her head.
“Will you point it out to me, should we be so fortunate
as to encounter one this evening?”
Again Grace laughed and nodded her head.
“I have been thinking, Grace,” said Eve, after a
short pause, “that we may give Sir George Templemore
a better idea of the sets about which he is so
own, and by letting him profit by the opportunity.
Mrs. Hawker receives this evening without ceremony;
we have not yet sent our answer to Mrs. Jarvis, and
might very well look in upon her for half an hour,
after which we shall be in very good season for Mrs.
Houston's ball.”
“Surely, Eve, you would not wish to take Sir
George Templemore to such a house as that of Mrs.
Jarvis!”
“I do not wish to take Sir George Templemore any
where, for your Hajjis have opinions of their own on
such subjects. But, as cousin Jack will accompany
us, he may very well confer that important favour. I
dare say, Mrs. Jarvis will not look upon it as too great
a liberty.”
“I will answer for it, that nothing Mr. John Effingham
can do will be thought mal à propos by Mrs.
Jared Jarvis. His position in society is too well
established, and hers is too equivocal, to leave any
doubt on that head.”
“This, you perceive, settles the point of côteries,”
said Eve to the baronet. “Volumes might be written
to establish principles; but when one can do any thing
he or she pleases, any where that he or she likes, it is
pretty safe to say that he or she is privileged.”
“All very true, as to the fact, Miss Effingham; but
I should like exceedingly to know the reason.”
“Half the time, such things are decided without a
reason at all. You are a little exacting in requiring
a reason in New-York for that which is done in London
without even the pretence of such a thing. It is
sufficient that Mrs. Jarvis will be delighted to see you
without an invitation, and that Mrs. Houston would,
at least, think it odd, were you to take the same
liberty with her.”
“It follows,” said Sir George, smiling, “that Mrs.
Jarvis is much the most hospitable person of the two.”
“But, Eve, what shall be done with Captain Truck
and Mr. Bragg?” asked Grace. “We cannot take
them to Mrs. Hawker's!”
“Aristabulus would, indeed, be a little out of place
in such a house, but as for our excellent, brave,
straight-forward, old captain, he is worthy to go any
where. I shall be delighted to present him to Mrs.
Hawker, myself.”
After a little consultation between the ladies, it was
settled that nothing should be said of the two first
visits to Mr. Bragg, but that Mr. Effingham should be
requested to bring him to the ball, at the proper hour,
and that the rest of the party should go quietly off to
the other places, without mentioning their projects.
As soon as this was arranged the ladies retired to
dress, Sir George Templemore passing into the library
to amuse himself with a book the while; where, however,
he was soon joined by John Effingham. Here
the former revived the conversation on distinctions in
society, with the confusion of thought that usually
marks a European's notions of such matters.
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