occupy his feeling; and, though his passion sometimes passes the conventionalism of art, and his grief becomes morbid, as, in his pictures, the subjectivity of his treatment sometimes makes his work almost a riddle to the unlearned; there is no affectation and no willing weakness, as there is no unconscientious trifling with his art, but his tendency, on the contrary, is to neglect those means of success which would make his art much more widely felt and valu

able, and he is often careless whether his picture is understood or not. He carries his indifference to mere physical beauty to such a degree as often to make his faces ugly, in the seeking for intense expression, and, in the action of his figures, passes the limits of the natural as well as graceful, to obtain force. But, with all his defects and peculiarities, he stands to-day, in general artistic power, first amongst the painters of England.

MON CHER AMI:

NEW YORK, 1869.

Do you remember standing with me, years ago, on a beautiful point of land, and gazing on the mountains and the sea? How vast and exhilarating was the view, what picturesque grandeur and novel evidences of human thrift and science in the valley-dwellings, old churches, and careering sails; while, at our feet, washed up by the tide, garbage, and bits of wreck, made the details around such a crude and dreary contrast to the scene beyond and above. Thus, my friend, is it here. When I think of the myriads who, in Europe, had no hope or prospect but drudgery and indigence, who, in the lands of the great West as farmers, and in the cities as mechanics, have attained competence, often wealth; and whose children are now educated, prosperous, and, best of all, progressive citizens of this great Republic; when I see how free is the scope, how sure the harvest reaped by intelligence, industry, and temperance, in this land, I feel heart and brain expanded and vivified with gratified human sympathies and limitless aspiration.

You may wonder at my including temperance as a condition of success: it is because intemperance is still the curse of the country; and, upon investigation, I find that smartness and tem

perance, combined, have been and are the means whereby the poor and ambitious have risen to social influence, wide activity, and political or professional honor.

But when, drawing in both thought and vision from the broad scenes, from the human generalization, I look critically at what is going on immediately around me, often-to use a phrase of the native pioneer author-" hope darkness into anxiety, anxiety into dread, and dread into despair;" for this very smartness a favorite and significant term-is often unscrupulous; this very temperance cold-blooded; and this very success unsoftened by sentiment, unelevated by aspiration, unredeemed by beneficence.

The devotion to wealth, as such, the temporizing with fraud, the triumph of impudence, the material standard and style of life, make me look back upon the homely ways, the genial content, the cultured repose so often found in the Old World, with a kind of regretful admiration. And yet it is just and rational to bear constantly in mind the fact that here every thing comes to the surface; no polished absolutism guards from view the latent corruption; no system of espionage and censorship, of police and military despotism, keeps the outside fair, while private rights and public virtue are mined for destruction;

all is exposed and discussed; and the good and evil elements of society, politics, opinion, trade, speculation, pastime, and crime, have free play and frank exposition. But, you will ask, how is it with regard to the intellectual life in its higher phase? What are the tendencies and triumphs of the mind, apart from the sphere of fashion, of commerce, of civic duty? My answer is, audacious; no other word so well expresses the animus of the would-be thinkers of the land. They despise precedents, ignore discipline, contemn the past; they serve up ideas as old as Plato, as familiar to scholars as Montaigne, in new-fangled sentences, and delude themselves and their disciples with the pretence of originality. They espouse an opinion, a cause, a theory, and make capital thereof on the rostrum and through the press, without a particle of philosophic insight or moral consistency; in education, in religion, in what they call culture, with an egotism that is at once melancholy and ridiculous, they maintain "what is new but not true, and what is true but not new," and, with a complacent hardihood that repudiates the laws of humanity, the pure and primal sentiments that lie at the basis of civilization and the constitution of man and woman. Without reverence there is no insight; without sympathy there is no truth; all is bold, self-asserting, conceited, unscrupulous, and, in the last analysis, vulgar; but there is, in all this perversion of harmonious intellectual life and complete intellectual equipment, what takes with the half-informed sensationalism, the love of letters, and speculative thought. Closely studied, the cause of this incongruous development may be found in a certain lack of moral sensibility, which instinctively guards from paradox on the one hand and guides to truth on the other. It is, as you well know, essential to artistic perception; and those of American writers and thinkers, who have the sense and sentiment of art, like Irving and Bryant, Hawthorne and Longfellow, have been thereby protected from the reckless vagaries and the

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mental effrontery which, under the plea of reform, of free thought, of progress, profanes the modest instincts of humanity, and desecrates the beautiful and the true in the interest of an eager, intolerant vanity.

While Mammon is widely worshipped, and Faith widely degraded, bright, benign exceptions to this pagan spirit "give us pause." I have never met more choice and charming illustrations of mental integrity, truth to personal conviction, heroic fidelity in legitimate individual development, than among the free and faithful citizens of this Republic; but they are unappreciated, except by the few who intimately know them; their influence is limited, and they are unambitious, as are all human beings who live intrinsically from within, and not conventionally from without. And, with all the deference to and passion for money, there never was a commercial city in the world where so much is given in charity, where so many rich men habitually devote a not inconsiderable portion of their income to the relief of distress, or where the response to appeals for aid in any humane or patriotic cause is more frequent, prompt, and generous than in this same badly-governed, money-getting, and money-spending city of New York.

After all, perhaps, I must confess that the disappointment experienced grows out of extravagant anticipations. The American theory of government, the equality of citizens, the character of the early patriots, the absence of rank, kingcraft, and a terrible disparity of condition, had long endeared the country to me and mine; but the behavior of the people in the civil war, their cheerful self-sacrifice, their patient devotion, their contented return to private life from the army and the field, their unparalleled triumph and magnanimity, had raised affection into admiration; I longed to tread so illustrious a land, to greet so noble a race, and to fraternize with such brave, wise, and true men. With the returning tide of peace, of course, habits of gain and

luxury were resumed in the populous centres, and the inevitable demoralization of war left its traces; the salient divisions between the patriotic and the disloyal, the martyrs and the mercenaries, which kept compact and imposing the army of noble and true citizens during the struggle, when it ceased, were obliterated, and society became more heterogeneous than ever, its manifestations less characteristic, its superficial traits more, and its talent and virtue less, apparent. Hence the America of my fond imagination seemed forever vanished; and, only by patient observation and fortunate rencontres, have I gradually learned to discriminate and recognize the soul of good in thingsevil.

No, my friend, I will not expose Wilhelmina to the precocious development, the premature self-assertion, incident to this social atmosphere. I daily see girls, in their teens, with all the airs and much of the way of thinking of old women of the world-confident, vain, self-indulgent, and, withal, blasé. True, the exceptions are charming. I find them chiefly among families in moderate circumstances, but of good connection, wherein the daughters have been reared in active, wholesome, and responsible duties-had, in short, to contribute, directly or indirectly, to their own support. With intellectual tastes and a religious education, this discipline in a land where the sex is held in respect,-these young women are noble, pure, brave, and conscientious, as well as aspiring and intelligent. I have seen many such in the Normal schools, engaged in clerical work in the departments at Washington, and by the firesides of the inland towns, or in the most thoroughly respectable and least fashionable households of this metropolis. But one is disenchanted, not only of his ideal of womanhood, but of the most homely and humble domestic illusions, by the sight of crowds of gaylydressed females, with huge greasy masses of hair on the back of their heads, and no modest shield to their brazen brows, draggling their long silken trains

through the dirt of Broadway, or crushing, like half-inflated balloons, their ample skirts through a densely-packed omnibus. The triumph of extravagant luxury may be seen, at certain seasons, at what looks like a palace-a huge, lofty marble building, in the principal thoroughfare of this city; it is not a royal residence, nor a gallery of art, nor a college-it is a drygoods shop. Imagine a thousand women there convened, an army of clerks showing patterns, measuring off goods, or rushing to and fro with change and orders. Every one of these females is dressed in silk; at least one half, if attired according to their means and station, would wear calico or homespun; perhaps an eighth out of the whole number of husbands to these shopping wives are either bankrupt or at work in Wall-street, with fear and trembling, risking their all to supply the enormous current expenses of their families, whereof half relate to female dress. Carry the inference from these facts a little further; of course, the daughters marry for an establishment, look abroad for enjoyment; byand-by go to Europe, ostensibly to educate their children (leaving papa to his club and counting-room), but really to gossip at Dresden, flirt at Rome, or shop in Paris.

I have been surprised to find so many underbred men in society; but this is explained by the fact that so many who, in youth, have enjoyed few means of culture and no social training, in their prime have made a fortune, and are able to give dinners, and send their children to fashionable schools. Hence a singular incongruity in manners, ranging from the most refined to the most intolerable in the same salon, or among the same class and circle. Remissness in answering notes, off-hand verbal invitations to strangers without a preliminary call, forcing personal topics into conversation, stuffing unceremoniously at receptions, free and easy bearing towards ladies, lounging, staring, asking impertinent questions, pushing into notice, intruding on the talk and privacy of others-in a word, an utter absence

sexes.

of delicacy and consideration is manifest in a sphere where you will, at the same time, recognize the highest type, both of character and breeding, in both This crude juxtaposition startles a European; but he is still more astonished after hearing a man's conduct stigmatized, and his character annihilated at the club; to encounter the individual thus condemned an accepted guest of the men who denounce him. In a word, there seems no social discrimination; one's pleasure in choice society is constantly spoiled by the presence of those reeking with the essential oil of vulgarity, of foreign adventurers without any credentials, and who succeed in effecting an entrée upon the most fallacious grounds. It is one of the most remarkable of social phenomena here, that even cultivated and scrupulously honorable men and highbred women are so patient under social inflictions, so thoughtless in social relations; not that they compromise their characters-they only degrade their hospitality. Exclusiveness is, indeed, the opposite of republican principle; but that refers to discrepancies of rank, of birth, and of fortune; exclusiveness based on character, on culture, on the tone and traits of the individual, is and should be the guarantee of social virtue, refinement, and self-respect.

And yet, my friend, inconsistent as it may seem, I really think there never was a country where every man's and woman's true worth and claims are better tested than this. I mean that when you turn from the fete or the fashion of the hour, and discuss character with the sensible people you happen to know, they invariably pierce the sham, recognize the true, and justly estimate legitimate claims. Sooner or later, in this free land, where the faculties are so keenly exercised, the scope for talent so wide; where all kinds of people come together, and there is a chance for every one,--what there is of original power, of integrity, of kindness, of cunning, of genius, of rascality, and of faith in a human being, finds development, comes to the surface, and turns the balance

of public opinion by social analysis. There is an instinctive sagacity and sense of justice in the popular mind.

The

If there was one confident idea I entertained in regard to this country, before coming here, it was that I should find plenty of space. I expected an infinity of room. I said to myself, those straggling unwalled cities devour suburban vicinage so easily-have so much room to spread; I had heard of the Capital's "magnificent distances," and dreamed of the boundless prairies and the vastness of the continent. same impression existed in regard to all social and economic arrangements; "there," I said to myself, "I shall expand at will; every thing is new, unbounded, open, large, and free." Well, thus far, I have found it just the reverse. Assigned a lofty and diminutive bedchamber at the hotels-having to stand up in the horse-cars, because all the seats are occupied-finding my friends' pews full—not having elbow-room at the table d'hôte-tired of waiting for my turn to look at the paper at club and reading room-being told the new novel is "out" at the library-standing in a line at the theatre box-office for an hour, to be told all the good places are taken-receiving hasty notes from editors that my article had been in type but that their columns were oversuppliedpressed to the wall at parties-jostled in Broadway and Wall-street-rushed upon at ferry-boat piers-interrupted in quiet talks-my neighbor, at dinner, abstracted by observation of a distant guest-I never, in my life, had such a painful consciousness of being de trop, in the way, insignificant, overlooked, and crowded out, as here; and I have to go, every now and then, to the country to breathe freely and realize my own individuality and independence.

The security of life and property is altogether inadequate here. Consult a file of newspapers and you will find that massacres by rail, burglaries, murders, and conflagrations are more numerous, make less impression, and are less guarded against and atoned for, by process of law, than in any other civilized land.

These characteristics are, however, very unequally distributed. You must continually bear in mind that the facts I state, and the inferences thence drawn, often have but a local application. Thus, familiar with the admirable municipal system whereby so many towns in Europe rose to power and prosperity of old, and with the civic sagacity and rectitude of the founders of this Republic, who, in colonial times, disciplined the people to self-government, through the free and faithful administration of local affairs-I was the more disconcerted at the awful abuses and patent frauds of the so-called government of this commercial metropolis of the United States. In New England you find the municipal system carried to perfection, unperverted, and effective. In Vermont it exists in elevated simplicity and honor; but in the large cities, owing to a larger influx of foreigners, so many of whom are poor and ignorant, it is degraded.

You naturally ask, Why do not the honest and intelligent citizens produce a reform in what so nearly concerns both their reputation and their welfare? My answer is, partly through indifference and partly through fear, added to utter want of faith in the practicability of success. There is a timidity native to riches; the large estate-holders desire to conciliate the robber; they deem it more safe to succumb than oppose; they lack moral courage; hence the social compromises I have noted, and hence, too, the ominous civic pusillanimity.

Care is the bane of conscientious life here; I mean that, when a man or woman is upright and bent upon duty, the performance thereof is hampered and made irksome by the state of society and the circumstances of the people. Thus, in affairs when an honest man is associated with directors, trustees, or other corporate representatives, he is sure to be revolted by unscrupulous doings or shameful neglect; he has to fight for what is just in the management, or withdraw in disgust therefrom. So a young man, who is wise enough to eschew alcoholic stimulants and games of hazard, has need of rare moral courVOL. VI.-7

age, or is forced to avoid the companionship of his reckless comrades. And, worst of all, a woman with a sentiment of family obligation, a principle of household duty, cannot regulate the servants, see to the providing of the table, the order and pleasantness of home-life, without a vigilance, a sacrifice of time, and an anxiety which takes the bloom from her cheek and plants a wrinkle on her brow. The lack of welltrained and contented "help,”—as the domestic servants are ironically called

the great expense of living, and the absence of that machinery which, once set up with judgment, goes on so regularly in our Old World domiciles—are among the causes of weariness and care in the average female life of this country, in a manner and to a degree unknown in Europe, where leisure and repose are easily secured by competence and tact.

I do not wonder that so many of the best-bred and most intelligent American girls prefer army and navy officers or diplomats for husbands to the "dancing men " they meet in society, usually vapid, if not dissipated; whereas the education for the army, navy, and diplomacy, or the culture attained by the discipline thereof, where there is a particle of sense or character, insures a certain amount of manliness and knowledge, such as are indispensable to a clever and refined woman in a life-companion. The two classes I pity most here are the very old and the very young; the former, because they are shamefully neglected, and the latter, because they are perverted. You see a gentleman of the old school snubbed by Young America; a venerable woman unattended to in a corner, while rude and complaisant girls push to the front rank; and you see children, who ought to be kept in the fields or the nursery, fashionably arrayed and holding levées, or dancing the German, with all the extravagance of toilettes and consciousness of manner, that distinguish their elders, and a zest infinitely more solemn. It is painful to see age thus unprivileged and unhonored, and