sonal appearance. The tendency of our institutions and pursuits is towards uniformity of both thought and action. Life in the United States is so gregarious as to be almost fatal to individuality. There is an absence of the picturesque in the social aspect of the country, which renders the impression monotonous to the stranger. The works of fiction which are woven from native material find their strong points chiefly in the young and adventurous society of the newly settled regions of the West. An English novelist who sought among us new specimens of human character expressed his disappointment, after a long sojourn in Boston, that scarcely a feature was discoverable which he had not previously found at home. The sternness of the Puritan, the simplicity of the Quaker, and the elegant manners of the Cavalier, instead of existing, as of old, in permanent social types, must be looked for now only in special cases, or mingled with and partially lost in other traits. Here the mass, not less than individuals, to use the quaint expression of Lamb, are "dragged along in the procession." Hotel life, which forms so prominent a feature of American habits, the throngs that continually pass over our railroads and rivers, and the sameness of purpose and bearing incident to trade, serve to mark the whole people with a unity of action, tone, way of thinking, and general expression, nowhere else so obvious and defined. Artists, men of letters, and all who are not directly engaged in politics or affairs, constitute so small a minority, that their agency is scarcely perceptible. The absence of rank tends to the same result; the exigencies of republican life associate as equally wealthy, gifted, or enterprising, the obscure and the illustrious in origin, too often to allow of any fixed lines of demarcation. To keep apart from the crowd is next to impossible. We admit no exclusiveness theoretically, and in practice the idea is very difficult of realization. With no centralization there can be little prestige. A President's levee is open to every citizen, and wealth is as precarious as official distinction. The parvenu of to-day may become the arbiter of fashion to-morrow; and vicissitudes increase in the ratio of facilities. The arena of success is open to all, and the chances of advancement unlimited by any hereditary condition.

Sagacity, perseverance, and assurance achieve what, under a more fixed and conventional system, would appear miraculous. Hence the prescriptive laws of society are, in a great measure, repudiated. Superior intelligence, taste, and character will, indeed, assert themselves whenever and wherever occasion permits; but scope is not afforded to natural prerogative except through individual action. The field is too wide, the competitors too numerous, the age too busy, and the game too free, to win any suffrages except such as experiment boldly tried insures. For these reasons, it is a peculiar injustice to form an opinion of American society at a fashionable soiree or a public ball. The true ornaments of the social circle are seldom conspicuous; the noble few are often cast into the shade by the ostentatious many, and the more richly endowed are as frequently repelled as allured by promiscuous assemblies.

The discussion recently excited by the re-appearance of some of our officials at foreign courts in the original citizen's dress which won admiration for Franklin at Versailles, shows how traditional abroad has become the republican distinction of simplicity. The organization of political factions for the special object of counteracting foreign influence at home, is an impressive token of the mongrel character of our popula tion. The existence of so many journals among us published in the languages of Europe, is a striking evidence of the vast increase in the tide of immigration. The renewed consideration of the naturalization laws is an equally significant indication. There are vine-growers from the Rhine in Ohio, whole counties of German agriculturists in Pennsylvania, an Hungarian colony here, a Mormon settlement there; in the post-office at Chicago a Polyglot clerk is indispensable; the suburbs of Boston contain a large Irish community; and in New York are French coffee-houses, Sunday dances, like those of the Vienna commonalty, a guild of Italian streetorganists and peripatetic image-venders, and anniversaries are duly celebrated of Polish revolutions, Roman assemblies, and Parisian republics. These, and countless other signs of the times, point to the fulfilment of that destiny which geographers and philanthropists have predicted for our country, as

the refuge of the nations, the asylum of the oppressed, the promised land of the indigent, and the home of the exile. Whether national traits and American policy, the sentiment and the character initiated by our Constitution, are to be overlaid and superseded by these agencies, depends on public spirit and individual loyalty.

The happy influence of American institutions is, therefore, more obvious in the general prosperity, the unremitted activity, and the comparative intelligence of the working classes, than in any peculiar development of social talent and refinement. The philosopher, however, will not seek in vain for the noblest effects of habit, of self-reliance, and popular education upon the individual. The instances of humble toil rising in the social scale to the honors of art, literature, political genius, inventive skill, and sagacious enterprise, are innumerable; and this is our grand and enviable distinction, that society, far from impeding, extends the hand of fellowship to merit. Not, however, in metropolitan saloons or suburban villas should the candid inquirer seek for the social fruits of republicanism, but in rural life, the Eastern village, the expanding Western town,-in those localities which are least invaded by artificial influences. Let the sated European enter a fisherman's house on Cape Cod, see the robust housewife prepare dinner, and then hear her talk, at the board her own hands have furnished and spread, of the last sermon, lyceum lecture, or new book, and he will recognize the progressive principle insured by social equality, religious freedom, and common schools. Let him become the guest of a Kentucky planter, and the fearless, cordial, ingenuous tone of manners and conversation around him will offer the most refreshing contrast to the conventional and heartless atmosphere he has known at Paris and Vienna. Let him talk with the farmer or mechanic at his side in the rail-car, and he may chance to acquire a new idea of the honest dignity and general information which free citizenship secures to humanity. It is these and similar instances the way-side, the casual, the popular manifestations of social life-which attest the liberal and enlightened spirit of American society in its broadest and most authentic sense. In its more prescriptive meaning, what is called society is

very much the same everywhere. The identical follies which provoke the satirist at Saratoga and Newport are enacted at Baden-Baden and Bath. At all places of public resort, where cards and the polka are the regular means of social pastime, vulgar wealth, coxcombical pretension, and affected refinement will inevitably find their way. The watering-place, the fashionable hotel, and the receptions of public functionaries and private aspirants for notoriety, are the chosen fields of social caricaturists, all the world over. The "hits" of some of our own writers, who have adventured in this sphere of literature, are, with scarcely an exception, of universal application, and have no local significance except what is derived from geographical names. Similar absurdities are recorded by Goldoni and Horace Walpole, Sir Richard Steele and Molière, Bulwer and Thackeray, Lever and "Peter Schlemil in America." To men and women of earnestness and intellectual resources, the ball-room, the casino, and the tea-party have always been precarious means of social refreshment. Good society, in the legitimate meaning of the word, is everywhere the exception, not the rule; hence the renown which attends it. Madame Récamier's salon, the famous dinners at Holland House in the days of Pitt, the breakfasts of Rogers, matutinal promenades in Landor's villa garden at Florence, Jane Austen's German soirées, the literary circle at Weimar, and a table-talk with Mackintosh or an evening at Charles Lamb's, are memorable, because such feasts of reason and such flow of soul are proverbially rare. Gray, the poet, sat apart and eat ices at a Roman ball; Alfieri shut himself up in disgust; the Lake bards retired to Westmoreland; and the biography of every superior intelligence and ideal aspirant indicates that the persons whose companionship brings solace and elevation belong to that peerage of the mind and that aristocracy of character the very essence of which consists in a select culture or a remarkable idiosyncrasy alien to the promiscuous association and frivolous aims of what, in common parlance, we intend by the word society.

Our inference from these premises is, that it is as unphilosophical as useless to expect the highest social privileges in merely fashionable spheres anywhere; and that, in this coun

try, from the causes already suggested, the most valuable and attractive social materials are so scattered,-lost in the crowd in some instances, and isolated by choice or necessity in others, that it is in the highest degree unjust to seize upon the grotesque and humiliating traits common to all indiscriminate gatherings, and to stamp them as American; while it is the obvious alternative of those who cherish an ideal of social life, to realize it by a wise and independent exercise of freewill and intelligent affinity, for which no country affords greater scope or more available resources than our own. We protest, also, against the violation of social confidence which recent literature exemplifies. The world of print has grown as wanton as that of tongues. It is derogatory to the true aim and real dignity of letters, that private life and individual experience should be reported without the least regard to good taste or honorable feeling. Vapid egotism fills the columns of journal and magazine with personal details, not only uninteresting and unimportant in themselves, but, not infrequently, offensive and disgusting. Authors seem to have become a corps of reporters, to whom nothing in life or nature is sacred. The casual remark of a partner in a waltz, the colloquy overheard on a steamboat, the costume of some unconscious visitor encountered at a soirée, the state of the writer's digestion or the precocious wit of his child, — in a word, the veriest trifle which comes under his observation, is dressed up for the public knowledge. If literature was once too stilted, it is now grossly familiar; and if, in the days of our ancestors, it failed of effect through excess of dignity, it is now in imminent danger of contempt through total want of self-respect. And this brings us to the noticeable fact, that the prevalence of this very quality elevated, in its day, and hallows to us, early American society. With all their faith in human equality, our ancestors were loyal to what has been justly called the first requisite of a gentleman,-independence. They respected the rights of man incarnate, as well as in the abstract. They were jealous of encroachment on personality. The opinions and actions of each received consideration from others. There was a deference spontaneously awarded to age, to great services, to high culture, to courage, ability, and