LETTERS TO THE EDITOR.
GREAT BRITAIN AND AMERICA.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR.")
Sin,—You have been throughout so warm and consistent a friend of the principles of the North in the late struggle in the United
States, that it is possible that the triumphant party may now listen to you while they will not to another. I myself have ever held with the Northern party, and when its day of triumph came transmitted to the journals of the States some lines on the joy with which most of us in England hailed the old flag of the Union, with all its stars as of old, and the significance given by slavery to its stripes removed.
It is possible that the leading statesmen and journals of America do not represent the feeling of the nation towards this country ; it is scarcely credible that they should do so. If they do, I am sure that the English nation, as a body, has not the slightest notion that such inimical feeling exists, or what the causes are which give rise to such animosity. My own mind was very much enlightened by what a Marseillaise merchant said to me on the subject yesterday between Marseilles and Paris in the train, and as he has somewhat opened my eyes, it may be he may confer the same benefit on others through your columns. The speaker was an Italian, settled at Marseilles. "You are very much in the
dark about the Americans, you English," he said, "as we used to
be. Now we know them better, and you also. We used to think you one people, now we find that you are two, and the one hating
the other."—" We do not hate America ?" I said.—" Perhaps not," he replied, "but you are hated by America."—" Why ?" I said.—" Les grands enfants sont toujours rebelles," he answered ; "they are your children. Have you read About's 7'rente et Quarante? Do you remember Mr. Plum, Anglais, and J. E. Wright, Esq., Americain ? When Mr. Plum ordered
the names of the Swiss mountains which he had ascended to be engraved on his alpenstock, J. E. Wright, Esq., did the same, with the addition of Chimborazo and Cotopaxi. When Mr.
Plum sleeps under the table for want of a bed, J. E. Wright, Esq.,
sleeps upon it to be above Mr. Plum ! It is all there," he said, "all—it is wholly a matter of jealousy and infantile rebellion."— " But," I said, "these are mere matters of sentiment."—" Matters of sentiment," he replied, "rule all things. But the Americans are children ; they know nothing, they come to us to be educated
by the eyes, and by them they will be educated. We have many amusing stories about them among ourselves. I will tell you one which happened to myself. I was standing on the stairs of the Trinita del Monte, at Rome ; I heard a daughter say to her father,
'Papa, is that, up there, a bisilisk ?'—' No,' he said, 'dear child, a basilisk is a Popish chapel, that is an obelisk.' They are very Ignorant, and for that reason very jealous of superiority,—that is your crime. You will never be forgiven it, never, for they will destroy you ; they are bent on war, they want a pretext for it, the question of the Alabama is a mere pretext. We French know very well that a privateer could not have (as Mr. Sumner says) caused all the American troubles. The New York journals themselves allow that when we and Spain urged you to join us in recognizing the South, that you would not do so. They know also that this saved them, for had you done so, nothing could have saved the United States of America. In fact, you saved America, that is the plain fact of the case ; but that will not help you ; that will only aggravate the crime. He who does his neighbour wrong seeks no reconcilement. They will never forgive you until they have destroyed you. Then they will turn round and be sorry for John Bull, and talk of the old country, and begin to pride themselves on being your children. We know them, Sir. You do not. You are like your own oxen, sleepy and silent, and, excuse me, in peace, stupid. There is no cure for it—the condition between you and America—it is in the nature of things," he continued. "it is nothing, said he, but rise and growth, nothing but time and education and rising into a higher state will do it. It is so always; the bourgeoisie hate the aristocracy, hate them with a hatred you cannot realize. It is the same all the world over, but no one can cure it. We abolish titles, we cut off the heads of kings and nobles, but the Faubourg St. Germain is as much the Faubourg without its titles as before ; the bourgeoisie is still outside. It is an affair of time and cultivation, enrichement du sang.' But besides," he continued, "look at that of which America is composed, and do not wonder at its enmity to Great Britain. First, you have Puritan fathers, driven out because of oppression of their faith ; then your penal banishments there ; then those who had been unsuccessful or for whom there was no opening at home ; finally, your Irish and Fenians. Ireland is always a great evil to you. Its faith connects it with a foreign head by which allegiance to your Government is ever sapped, and if you get rid of your Protestant Church there, the landlords will do very wisely to accept Mr. Bright's offer for their land, and go to England, and leave Ireland to itself and to the Irish wholly. And in that case it will then be a good bulwark against America, for it will certainly not wish to share its soil with the American in that case.
"We will do what we can to reconcile you, we French. Louis Napoleon is tres-allie" to England, and the Americans cling to us. We helped them in their War of Independence. Indeed, it was we who made them independent. But it was a small affair. What? It suited us, and we did it. They were your colonists, and they would not pay some tax on tea. You send gems d'armes to collect— one, and then two regiments ; and they defeated these, with our help. It was not much, but it made General Washington and their Independence, and now all the American school-books are full of this great war. But this makes enmity to England. It is a great pity. But what can be done? If Australia will not pay its tax on tea, do not send gem d'armes, that is all. Say, Very well, you shall take your tea by yourselves.' But we do not like the Americans, we French ; we are an old and polished people, and if it is to be (as they say) that 'Paris is to be the heaven for the good Americans,' then we will go to the other place, some other we would prefer." I was partly amused and partly alarmed by my Frenchman's garrulity and apparent clearness of vision. I fear there is much in what he said. Ile evidently knew England well, and America; and had seen much of life in all its varied aspects on the Continent and in England also.
Most of my friends (as you, Sir) are hearty Northerners ; I begin to be ashamed of the party I have espoused, still, let us believe that the party is not now fairly represented, and stick to our principles. I trust that what is now apparent is but the scum and dregs, and that the true America lies between, a true and powerful, although it may be at this moment a silent and undiscovered, continent. Help us to prevent that great European multitude of races and faiths which are still far behind both England and America from supposing that their principles, after all, are the best, —that is, that the retrograde religions and politics of the European continent are worth more than our Prote,stautisin and Liberty. Help, Sir, to exalt the great principles of civil and religious progress and liberty, and the harmony and honour of those who mainly represent them.—I am, Sir, &c., May 10, 1869. AN OLD WEST INDIAN.
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