Фредерик Марриет - Diary in America, Series Two

Captain Hamilton, speaking of the political contests, says, “From one extremity of the Union to the other, the political war slogan is sounded. No quarter is given on either side; every printing press in the United States is engaged in the conflict. Reason, justice, and charity; the claims of age and of past services, of high talents and unspotted integrity, are forgotten. No lie is too malignant to be employed in this unhallowed contest, if it can but serve the purpose of deluding, even for a moment, the most ignorant of mankind. No insinuation is too base, no equivocation too mean, no artifice too paltry. The world affords no parallel to the scene of political depravity exhibited periodically in this free country.”

Governor Clinton, in his address to the legislature in 1828, says—“Party spirit has entered the recesses of retirement, violated the sanctity of female character, invaded the tranquillity of private life, and visited with severe inflictions the peace of families. Neither elevation nor humility has been spared, nor the charities of life, nor distinguished public services,—nor the fire-side, nor the altar, been left free from attack; but a licentious and destroying spirit has gone forth, regardless of everything, but the gratification of malignant feelings and unworthy aspirations.” And in the New York Annual Register, quoted by Captain Hamilton, we have the following remarks: “In conducting the political discussions which followed the adjournment of Congress, both truth and propriety were set at defiance. The decencies of private life were disregarded; conversations and correspondence which should have been confidential, were brought before the public eye; the ruthless warfare was carried into the bosom of private life; neither age nor sex were spared, the daily press teemed with ribaldry and falsehood; and even the tomb was not held sacred from the rancorous hostility which distinguished the presidential election of 1828.”

I have considered it necessary thus to heap authority upon authority, as the subject is one of the most vital importance; and I must first prove the extent of this vice, without the chance of the shadow of contradiction, before I point out its fatal consequences.

That the political animosities arising from a free and enlightened people governing themselves, have principally engendered and fostered this vice, is most certain; and it would be some satisfaction, if, after the hostile feelings had subsided, the hydra also sank to repose.

But this cannot be the case. A vice, like detraction, so congenial to our imperfect natures, is not to be confined to one channel, and only resorted to, as a political weapon, when required. It is a vice which when once called into action, and unchecked by the fear of punishment or shame, must exist and be fed. It becomes a confirmed habit, and the effect upon society is dreadful. If it cannot aim its shafts at those who are in high places, if there is no noble quarry for its weapons, it will seek its food amongst smaller game, for it never tires. The consequence is, that it pervades and feeds upon society—private life is embittered; and, as Mr Cooper most justly observes, “ rendering men indifferent to character, and indeed rendering character of little avail .”

Indeed, from the prevalence of this vice, society in America appears to be in a state of constant warfare—Indian warfare, as every one is crouched, concealed, watching for an opportunity to scalp the reputation of his neighbour! They exist in fear and trembling, afraid to speak, afraid to act, or follow their own will, for in America there is no free will. When I have asked why they do not this or that, the reply has invariably been, that they dare not. In fact, to keep their station in society, they must be slaves—not merely slaves, for we are all so far slaves, that if we do that which is not right, we must be expelled from it; but abject and cowardly slaves, who dare not do that which is innocent, lest they should be misrepresented. This is the cause by there is such an attention to the outward forms of religion in the United States, and which has induced some travellers to suppose them a religious people, as if it were possible that any real religion could exist, where morality is at so low an ebb. When I first went to Boston, I did not go to church on the following day. An elderly gentleman called upon and pointed out to me that I had omitted this duty; “but,” continued he, “I have had it put into one of the newspapers that you attended divine service at such a church, so all is right.” All was right; yes, all was right, according to the American’s ideas of “all was right.” But I thought at the time, that my sin of omission was much more venial than his of commission.

When at Detroit, I was attacked in the papers because I returned a few calls on a Sunday. I mention this, not because I was justified in so doing, but because I wish to show the censorship exercised in this very moral country.

The prevalence of this evil acts most unfortunately upon society in other ways. It is the occasion of your hardly ever knowing whom you may, or whom you may not, be on terms of intimacy with, and of the introduction of many people into society, who ought to be wholly excluded. Where slander is so general, when in the space of five minutes you will be informed by one party, that Mr So and So is an excellent person, and by another that he is a great scoundrel, just as he may happen to be on their side or the opposite, in politics, or from any other cause, it is certain that you must be embarrassed as to the person’s real character; and as a really good man may be vituperated, so the reports against one who is unworthy, are as little credited: the fact is, you never know who you are in company with.

Almost all the duels which are so frequent in America, and I may add all the assassinations in the western country, arise principally from defamation. The law gives no redress, and there is no other way of checking slander, than calling the parties to account for it. Every man is therefore ready and armed against his fellow.

Inadvertently affront any party, wound his self-love, and he will immediately coin some malignant report, which is sure to be industriously circulated. You are at the mercy of the meanest wretch in the country; for although praise is received with due caution, slander is everywhere welcomed. An instance occurred with respect to myself. I was at Lexington, and received great kindness and civility from Mr Clay. One day I dined at his table; there was a large party, and at the further end, at a distance where he could not possibly have heard what passed between Mr Clay and me, there sat a young man, whose name is not worth mentioning. When he returned to Louisville, he spread a report that I had grossly insulted Mr Clay at his own table. Now the catalogue of enormities circulated against me was already so extensive, that I was not in very good odour; but Mr Clay is so deservedly the idol of this State, and indeed of almost the whole Union, that there could not be a more serious charge against me—even those who were most friendly avoided me, saying, they could forgive me what I had formerly done, but to insult Mr Clay was too bad. So high was the feeling, and so industriously was the calumny circulated, that at last I was compelled to write to Mr Clay on the subject, and I received in return a most handsome letter, acquitting me of the malicious charge. This I showed to some, and they were satisfied; and they advised me to print it, that it might be better known. This was a compliment I did not choose to pay them; and the impression of the majority still is that I insulted Mr Clay. The affair being one of the many connected with myself, I should not have mentioned it, except to prove how lightly such a practice is estimated.