Various - "Notes and Queries, Number 190, June 18, 1853"

Various - "The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. I, No. 1, Nov. 1857"

Alpheus Spring Packard - "Lamarck, the Founder of Evolution"

Jeffery Farnol et al - "The Amateur Gentleman"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

The Englishwoman in America

I >> Isabella Lucy Bird >> The Englishwoman in America




To judge from the costly articles of jewellery displayed in the stores, I
should have supposed that there was a great rage for ornament; but from
the reply I once received from a jeweller, on asking him who would
purchase a five-thousand-guinea diamond bracelet, "I guess some Southerner
will buy it for his wife," I believe that most of these articles find
their way to the South and West, where a less-cultivated taste may be
supposed to prevail. I saw very little jewellery worn, and that was
generally of a valuable but plain description. The young ladies appear to
have adopted the maxim, "Beauty when unadorned is adorned the most." They
study variety in ornament rather than profusion. "What are their manners
like?" is a difficult question to answer. That there is a great difference
between the manners of English and American ladies may be inferred from
some remarks made to me by the most superior woman whom I met in America,
and one who had been in English society in London. In naming a lady with
whom she was acquainted, and one who could scarcely be expected to be
deficient in affection towards herself, she said, "Her manners were
perfectly ladylike, but she seemed to talk merely because conversation was
a conventional requirement of society, and I cannot believe that she had
any heart." She added, "I did not blame her for this; it was merely the
result of an English education, which studiously banishes every appearance
of interest or emotion. Emotion is condemned as romantic and vulgar
sensibility, interest as enthusiasm."

The system which she reprehended is not followed at New York, and the
result is, not that the ladies "wear their hearts on their sleeves for
daws to peck at," but that they are unaffected, lively, and agreeable. The
_repose_ so studiously cultivated in England, and which is considered
perfect when it has become listlessness, apathy, and indifference, finds
no favour with our lively Transatlantic neighbours; consequently the
ladies are very _naive_ and lively, and their manners have the vivacity
without the frivolity of the French. They say themselves that they are not
so highly educated as the ladies of England. Admirable as the common
schools are, the seminaries for ladies, with one or two exceptions, are
very inferior to ours, and the early age at which the young ladies go into
society precludes them from completing a superior education; for it is
scarcely to be expected that, when their minds are filled with the desire
for conquest and the love of admiration, they will apply systematically to
remedy their deficiencies. And again, some of their own sex in the States
have so far stepped out of woman's proper sphere, that high attainments
are rather avoided by many from the ridicule which has been attached to
the unsuitable display of them in public. The young ladies are too apt to
consider their education completed when they are emancipated from school
restraints, while in fact only the basis of it has been laid. Music and
drawing are not much cultivated in the higher branches; and though many
speak the modern languages with fluency, natural philosophy and
arithmetic, which strengthen the mental powers, are rather neglected. Yet
who has ever missed the higher education which English ladies receive,
while in the society of the lively, attractive ladies of New York? Of
course there are exceptions, where active and superior minds become highly
cultivated by their own persevering exertions; but the aids offered by
ladies' schools are comparatively insignificant.

The ladies in the United States appeared to me to be extremely domestic.
However fond they may be of admiration as girls, after their early
marriages they become dutiful wives, and affectionate, devoted mothers.
And in a country where there are few faithful attached servants, far more
devolves upon the mother than English ladies have any idea of. Those
amusements which would withdraw her from home must be abandoned; however
fond she may be of travelling, she must abide in the nursery; and all
those little attentions which in England are turned over to the nurse must
be performed by herself, or under her superintending eye. She must be the
nurse of her children alike by day and by night, in sickness and in
health; and with the attention which American ladies pay to their
husbands, their married life is by no means an idle one. Under these
circumstances, the early fading of their bloom is not to be wondered at,
and I cannot but admire the manner in which many of them cheerfully
conform to years of anxiety and comparative seclusion, after the homage
and gaiety which seemed their natural atmosphere in their early youth.

Of the gentlemen it is less easy to speak. They are immersed in a whirl of
business, often of that speculative kind which demands a constant exercise
of intense thought. The short period which they can spend in the bosom of
their families must be an enjoyment and relaxation to them; therefore, in
the absence of any statements to the contrary, it is but right to suppose
that they are affectionate husbands and fathers. However actively the
gentlemen of New York are engaged in business pursuits, they travel, read
the papers, and often devote some time to general literature. They look
rather more pale and careworn than the English, as the uncertainties of
business are greater in a country where speculative transactions are
carried to such an exaggerated extent. They also indulge in eccentricities
of appearance in the shape of beards and imperials, not to speak of the
"goatee" and moustaches of various forms. With these exceptions, there is
nothing in appearance, manner, or phraseology to distinguish them from
gentlemen in the best English society, except perhaps that they evince
more interest and animation in their conversation.

The peculiar expressions which go under the name of Americanisms are never
heard in good society, and those disagreeable habits connected with
tobacco are equally unknown. I thought that the gentlemen were remarkably
free from mannerisms of any kind. I have frequently heard Americans speak
of the descriptions given by Dickens and Mrs. Trollope of the slang and
disagreeable practices to be met with in the States; and they never, on a
single occasion, denied their truthfulness, but said that these writers
mistook the perpetrators of these vulgarities for _gentlemen_. The
gentlemen are extremely deferential and attentive in their manners to
ladies, and are hardly, I think, treated with sufficient graciousness in
return. At New York a great many are actively engaged in philanthropic
pursuits. The quiescence of manner attained by English gentlemen, which
frequently approaches inanity, is seldom to be met with in America. The
exhilarating influences of the climate and the excitement of business have
a tendency to produce animation of manner, and force and earnestness of
expression. A great difference in these respects is apparent in gentlemen
from the southern States, who live in an enervating climate, and whose
pursuits are of a more tranquil nature. The dry, elastic atmosphere of the
northern States produces a restlessness which must either expend itself in
bodily or mental exertion or force of expression; from this probably arise
the frequent use of superlatives, and the exaggeration of language, which
the more phlegmatic English attribute to the Americans.

Since my return to England I have frequently been asked the question,
"What is society like in America?" This word _society_ is one of very
ambiguous meaning. It is used in England by the titled aristocracy to
distinguish themselves, their connexions, and those whose wealth or genius
has gained them admission into their circles. But every circle, every
city, and even every country neighbourhood, has what it pleases to term
"society;" and when the members of it say of an individual, "I never met
him in society," it ostracises him, no matter how estimable or agreeable
he may be. In England, to "society," in each of its grades, wealth is a
sure passport, as has been evidenced of late years by several very
notorious instances. Thus it is extremely difficult to answer the
question, "What is New York society like?" It certainly is not like that
which is associated in our minds with the localities May Fair and
Belgravia; neither can it be compared to the circles which form
parasitically round the millionaire; still less is it like the dulness of
country neighbourhoods. New York has its charmed circles also; a republic
admits of the greatest exclusiveness; and, in the highest circles of the
city, to say that a man is not in society, is to ostracise him as in
England. It must be stated that some of the most agreeable _salons_ of New
York are almost closed against foreigners. French, Germans, and Italians,
with imposing titles, have proved how unworthily they bear them; and this
feeling against strangers--I will not call it prejudice, for there are
sufficient grounds for it--is extended to the English, some of whom, I
regret to say, have violated the rights of hospitality in many different
ways. I have heard of such conduct on the part of my countrymen as left me
no room for surprise that many families, whose acquaintance would be most
agreeable, strictly guard their drawing-room from English intrusion. And,
besides this, there are those who have entered houses merely to caricature
their inmates, and have received hospitality only to ridicule the manner
in which it was exercised, while they have indulged in unamiable
personalities, and have not respected the sanctity of private life.

It was through an introduction given me by a valued English friend that I,
as an English stranger, was received with the kindest hospitality by some
of those who have been rendered thus exclusive by the bad taste and worse
conduct of foreigners. I feel, as I write, that any remarks I make on New
York society cannot be perfectly free from bias, owing to the overwhelming
kindness and glowing hospitality which I met with in that city. I found so
much to enjoy in society, and so much to interest and please everywhere,
that when I left New York it was with the wish that the few weeks which I
was able to spend there could have been prolonged into as many months.

But, to answer the question. The best society in New York would not suffer
by comparison in any way with the best society in England. It is not in
the upper classes of any nation that we must look for national
characteristics or peculiarities. Society throughout the civilized world
is, to a certain extent, cast in the same mould; the same laws of
etiquette prevail, and the same conventionalisms restrict in great measure
the display of any individual characteristics. Balls are doubtless the
same in "society" all over the world; a certain amount of black cloth, kid
gloves, white muslin, epaulettes if they can be procured, dancing, music,
and ices. Every one acknowledges that dinner-parties are equally dull in
London and Paris, in Calcutta and in New York, unless the next neighbour
happens to be peculiarly agreeable. Therefore, it is most probable that
balls and dinner-parties are in New York exactly the same as in other
places, except that the latter are less numerous, and are principally
confined to gentlemen. It is not, in fact, convenient to give dinner
parties in New York; there are not sufficient domestics to bear the
pressure of an emergency, and the pleasure is not considered worth the
trouble. If two or three people have sufficient value for the society of
the host and hostess to come in to an ordinary dinner, at an ordinary
hour, they are welcome. If turtle and venison were offered on such an
occasion, it would have the effect of repelling, rather than attracting,
the guests, and it would not have the effect of making them believe that
their host and hostess always lived on such luxurious viands.

As dinner-parties are neither deemed agreeable nor convenient, and as many
sensible people object to the late hours and general dissipation of mind
produced by balls and large dancing parties, a happy innovation upon old
customs has been made, and early evening receptions have been introduced.
Some of the most splendid mansions of New York, as well as the most
agreeable, are now thrown open weekly for the reception of visitors in a
social manner. These receptions differ from what are known by the same
name in London. The crowd in which people become wedged, in a vain attempt
to speak to the hostess, is as much as possible avoided; late hours are
abandoned; the guests, who usually arrive about eight, are careful to
disappear shortly after eleven, lest, Cinderella-like, the hostess should
vanish. Then, again, all the guests feel themselves on a perfect equality,
as people always ought to do who meet in the same room, on the invitation
of the same hostess. [Footnote: The Americans justly ridicule that species
of bad breeding which leads people at parties to draw back from others,
from a fear that their condescension should fall upon ground unconsecrated
by the dictatorial fiat of "society." An amusing instance of the effect of
this pride, which occurred in England, was related. Some years ago the
illustrious Baron Humboldt was invited to play the part of lion at the
house of a nobleman. A select circle of fashionables appeared, and among
the company a man very plainly dressed and not noticeable in appearance.
He spoke first to one person, and then to another: some drew themselves up
with a haughty stare; others answered in monosyllables; but all repulsed
the Baron; and it was not until late in the evening, after he had departed
early, disgusted with this ungracious reception, that these people knew
that by their conduct they had lost the advantage of the conversation of
one of the greatest men of the age.]

The lady of the house adopts the old but very sensible fashion of
introducing people to each other, which helps to prevent a good deal of
stiffness. As the rooms in the New York houses are generally large, people
sit, stand, or walk about as they feel inclined, or group themselves round
some one gifted with peculiar conversational powers. At all of these re-
unions there was a great deal of conversation worth listening to or
joining in, and, as a stranger, I had the advantage of being introduced to
every one who was considered worth knowing. Poets, historians, and men of
science are to be met with frequently at these receptions; but they do not
go as lions, but to please and be pleased; and such men as Longfellow,
Prescott, or Washington Irving may be seen mixing with the general throng
with so much _bonhommie_ and simplicity, that none would fancy that in
their own land they are the envy of their age, and sustain world-wide
reputations. The way in which literary lions are exhibited in England, as
essential to the _eclat_ of fashionable parties, is considered by the
Americans highly repugnant to good taste. I was very agreeably surprised
with the unaffected manners and extreme simplicity of men eminent in the
scientific and literary world.

These evening receptions are a very happy idea; for people, whose business
or inclinations would not permit them to meet in any other way, are thus
brought together without formality or expense. The conversation generally
turned on Europe, general literature, art, science, or the events of the
day. I must say that I never heard one remark that could be painful to an
English ear made, even in jest. There was none of that vulgar boastfulness
and detraction which is to be met with in less educated society. Most of
the gentlemen whom I met, and many of the ladies, had travelled in Europe,
and had brought back highly cultivated tastes in art, and cosmopolitan
ideas, which insensibly affect the circles in which they move.

All appeared to take a deep interest in the war, and in our success. I
heard our military movements in the Crimea criticised with some severity
by military men, some of whom have since left for the seat of war, to
watch our operations. The conclusion of the Vienna negociations appeared
to excite some surprise. "I had no idea," an officer observed to me, "that
public opinion was so strong in England as to be able to compel a minister
of such strong Russian proclivities as Lord Aberdeen to go to war with his
old friend Nicholas." The arrangements at Balaklava excited very general
condemnation; people were fond of quoting the saying attributed to a
Russian officer, "You have an army of _lions_ led by _asses_."

The Americans are always anxious to know what opinion a stranger has
formed of their country, and I would be asked thirty times on one evening,
"How do you like America?" Fortunately, the kindness which I met with
rendered it impossible for me to give any but a satisfactory reply.
English literature was a very general topic of conversation, and it is
most gratifying to find how our best English works are "familiar in their
mouths as household words." Some of the conversation on literature was of
a very brilliant order. I heard very little approximation to either wit or
humour, and _badinage_ is not cultivated, or excelled in, to the same
extent as in England.

On one occasion I was asked to exhibit a collection of autographs, and the
knowledge of English literature possessed by the Americans was shown by
the information they had respecting not only our well-known authors, but
those whose names have not an extended reputation even with us. Thus the
works of Maitland, Ritchie, Sewell, Browning, Howitt, and others seemed
perfectly familiar to them. The trembling signature of George III. excited
general interest from his connection with their own history, and I was not
a little amused to see how these republicans dwelt with respectful
attention on the decided characters of Queen Victoria. A very
characteristic letter of Lord Byron's was read aloud, and, in return for
the pleasure they had experienced, several kind individuals gave me
valuable autographs of their own _literati_ and statesmen. Letters written
by Washington descend as precious heirlooms in families, and so great is
the estimation in which this venerated patriot is held, that, with all the
desire to oblige a stranger which the Americans evince, I believe that I
could not have purchased a few lines in his handwriting with my whole
collection.

It would be difficult to give any idea of the extremely agreeable
character of these receptions. They seemed to me to be the most sensible
way of seeing society that I ever met with, and might be well worthy of
general imitation in England. When I saw how sixty or a hundred people
could be brought together without the inducements of dancing, music,
refreshments, or display of any kind; when I saw also how thoroughly they
enjoyed themselves, how some were introduced, and those who were not
entered into sprightly conversation without fear of lessening an imaginary
dignity, I more than ever regretted the icy coldness in which we wrap
ourselves. And yet, though we take such trouble to clothe ourselves in
this glacial dignity, nothing pleases us better than to go to other
countries and throw it off, and mix with our fellow men and women as
rational beings should, not as if we feared either to compromise ourselves
or to be repulsed by them. This national stiffness renders us the
laughing-stock of foreigners; and in a certain city in America no play was
ever more successful than the '_Buckram Englishman_,' which ridiculed and
caricatured our social peculiarities.

The usages of etiquette are much the same as in England, but people
appeared to be assisted in the enjoyment of society by them rather than
trammeled. Morning visiting is carried to a great extent, but people call
literally in the morning, before two o'clock oftener than after. On New
Year's Day, in observance of an old Dutch custom, the ladies remain at
home, and all the gentlemen of their acquaintance make a point of calling
upon them. Of course time will only allow of the interchange of the
compliments of the season, where so much social duty has to be performed
in one brief day, but this pleasant custom tends to keep up old
acquaintanceships and annihilate old feuds. It is gratifying to observe
that any known deviation from the rules of morality is punished with
exclusion from the houses of those who are considered the leaders of New
York society; it is also very pleasing to see that to the best circles in
New York wealth alone is not a passport. I have heard cards of invitation
to these receptions refused to foreigners bearing illustrious titles, and
to persons who have the reputation of being _millionaires_. At the same
time, I have met those of humble position and scanty means, who are
treated with distinction because of their talents or intellectual powers.
Yet I have never seen such a one patronised or treated as a lion; he is
not expected to do any homage, or pay any penalty, for his admission into
society. In these circles in New York we are spared the humiliating
spectacle of men of genius or intellect cringing and uneasy in the
presence of their patronising inferiors, whom birth or wealth may have
placed socially above them. Of course there is society in New York where
the vulgar influence of money is omnipotent, and extravagant display is
fashionable; it is of the best that I have been speaking.




CHAPTER XVII.

The cemetery--Its beauties--The "Potter's Field"--The graves of children--
Monumental eccentricities--Arrival of emigrants--Their reception--Poor
dwellings--The dangerous class--The elections--The riots--Characteristics
of the streets--Journey to Boston--The sights of Boston--Longfellow--
Cambridge university.


It may seem a sudden transition from society to a cemetery, and yet it is
not an unnatural one, for many of the citizens of New York carry their
magnificence as far as possible to the grave with them, and pile their
wealth above their heads in superb mausoleums or costly statues. The _Pere
la Chaise_ of the city is the Greenwood Cemetery, near Brooklyn on Long
Island. I saw it on the finest and coldest of November days, when a
piercing east wind was denuding the trees of their last scarlet honours.
After encountering more than the usual crush in Broadway, for we were
rather more than an hour in driving three miles in a stage, we crossed the
Brooklyn Ferry in one of those palace ferry-boats, where the spacious
rooms for passengers are heated by steam-pipes, and the charge is only one
cent, or a fraction less than a halfpenny. It was a beautiful day; there
was not a cloud upon the sky; the waves of the Sound and of the North
River were crisped and foam-tipped, and dashed noisily upon the white
pebbly beach. Brooklyn, Jersey, and Hoboken rose from the water, with
their green fields and avenues of villas; white, smokeless steamers were
passing and repassing; large anchored ships tossed upon the waves; and New
York, that compound of trees, buildings, masts, and spires, rose in the
rear, without so much as a single cloud of smoke hovering over it.

A railway runs from Brooklyn to the cemetery, with the cars drawn by
horses, and the dead of New York are conveniently carried to this last
resting-place. The entrance is handsome, and the numerous walls and
carriage-drives are laid with fine gravel, and beautifully swept. We drove
to see the most interesting objects, and the coachman seemed to take a
peculiar pride in pointing them out. This noble burying-ground has some
prettily diversified hill and dale scenery, and is six miles round. The
timber is very fine, and throughout art has only been required as an
assistance to nature. To this cemetery most of the dead of New York are
carried, and after "life's fitful fever," in its most exaggerated form,
sleep in appropriate silence. Already several thousand dead have been
placed here in places of sepulture varying in appearance from the most
splendid and ornate to the simplest and most obscure. There are family
mausoleums, gloomy and sepulchral looking, in the Grecian style; family
burying-grounds neatly enclosed by iron or bronze railings, where white
marble crosses mark the graves; there are tombs with epitaphs, and tombs
with statues; there are simple cenotaphs and monumental slabs, and
nameless graves marked by numbers only.

One very remarkable feature of this cemetery is the "Potter's Field," a
plot containing several acres of ground, where strangers are buried. This
is already occupied to a great extent. The graves are placed in rows close
together, with numbers on a small iron plate to denote each. Here the
shipwrecked, the pestilence-stricken, the penniless, and friendless are
buried; and though such a spot cannot fail to provoke sad musings, the
people of New York do not suffer any appearances of neglect to accumulate
round the last resting-place of those who died unfriended and alone.
Another feature, not to be met with in England, strikes the stranger at
first with ludicrous images, though in reality it has more of the
pathetic. In one part of this cemetery there are several hundred graves of
children, and these, with most others of children of the poorer class,
have toys in glass cases placed upon them. There are playthings of many
kinds, woolly dogs and lambs, and little wooden houses, toys which must be
associated in the parents' minds with those who made their homes glad, but
who have gone into the grave before them. One cannot but think of the
bright eyes dim, the merry laugh and infantine prattle silent, the little
hands, once so active in playful mischief, stiff and cold; all brought so
to mind by the sight of those toys. There is a fearful amount of mortality
among children at New York, and in several instances four or five buried
in one grave told with mournful suggestiveness of the silence and
desolation of once happy hearths.

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