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Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Vol. 54, No. 333, July 1843 by Various

V >> Various >> Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine Vol. 54, No. 333, July 1843




Such are the results for nations, when they betray to the whole world an
aristocracy bankrupt of honour, emasculated, and slothful. Spoliators so
reckless as Napoleon, are not always at hand for taking advantage of
this domestic ruin; but it is impossible that a nation, absolutely rich
as Spain was in the midst of her relative poverty, can advertise itself
for centuries as a naked, defenceless waif, having neither leaders nor
principles for organizing a resistance, but that eventually she will
hear of a customer for her national jewels. In reality, Spain had been
protected for 150 years, by the local interposition of France; had
France not occupied the antechamber to the Peninsula, making it
impossible for any but a maritime power to attack Spain in strength,
Madrid would have echoed to the cannon of the spoiler, at least a
century before the bloody 3d of May 1808.[6] In the same way, Austria
has furnished for centuries a screen to the Italian Peninsula. Yet, in
that case, the want of unity amongst so many subdivisions that were
independent states, might be pleaded as an excuse. Pitiable weakness
there was in both cases; and "to be weak is to be miserable;" but
degradation _by_ degradation, universal abasement of the national
energies, as an effect through wilful abasement as a cause; this
miserable spectacle has been exhibited in mellow maturity by no
Christian nations but those of Spain and Portugal. Both have degenerated
into nations of poltrons, and _from_ what ancestors? From those who once
headed the baptized in Europe, and founded empires in the other
hemisphere.

------"Into what depth thou see'st,
From what height fallen!"------

So that, if this gloomy shadow has crept over luminaries once so bright
through the gradual eclipse of their aristocracies, we need no proof
more pathetic or terrific of the degree in which great nations, with the
whole burden of their honour and their primary interests, are dependent,
in the final extremity, upon the quality of their gentry--considered as
their sole natural leaders in battle.

[Footnote 6: To say the truth, during the Marlborough war of the
Succession, and precisely one hundred years before Murat's bloody
occupation of Madrid, Spain presented the same infamous spectacle as
under Napoleon; armies of strangers, English, French, Germans, marching,
and counter-marching incessantly, peremptorily disposing of the Spanish
crown, alternately placing rival kings upon the throne, and all the
while no more deferring to a Spanish will than to the yelping of village
curs.]

With this previous indication of the unrivalled responsibility pressing
upon aristocracies, it is our purpose to dwell a little upon those
accidents of advantage arising out of constitution, and those
differences of quality, experimentally made known to us in a thousand
trials, which sum and express the peculiarities of the British nobility
and gentry.

This first point, as to the constitution of our aristocracy, the basis
on which it reposes cannot be better introduced than by a literary fact
open to all the world, but never yet read in its true meaning. When it
became advisable, after the violent death of Charles I., that some
public exposure should be applied to the past disputes between the
Throne and the Parliament, and some account given of the royal
policy--the first question arose naturally upon the selection of a
writer having the proper qualifications. Two of these qualifications
were found in a French scholar of distinction, Monsieur de Saumaise,
better known by his Latinized name of Salmasius. He was undoubtedly a
scholar of prodigious attainments: and the first or unconditional
qualification for such a task, of great ability and extensive
information, could not be denied to him. Here was a subject fitted to
fix attention upon any writer, and on the other hand, a writer
brilliantly qualified to fix attention upon any subject. Unhappily, a
third indispensable condition, viz.--that the writer should personally
know England--was entirely overlooked. Salmasius had a fluent command of
Latin; and, supported by a learned theme, he generally left a dazzling
impression even upon those who hated his person, or disputed his
conclusions. But, coming into collision with politics, personal as well
as speculative, and with questions of real life, fitted to call for
other accomplishments than those of a recluse scholar, it seemed
probable that this great classical critic would be found pedantic and
scurrilous; and upon the affairs of so peculiar a people, it was certain
that he would be found ignorant and self-contradicting. Even Englishmen
have seldom thoroughly understood the feud of the great Parliamentary
war: the very _word_ "_rebellion_," so often applied to it, involves the
error of presuming that in its principles the war was unconstitutional,
and in its objects was finally defeated. Whereas the subsequent
Revolution of 1688-9 was but a resumption of the very same principles
and indispensable purposes under more advantageous auspices--was but a
re-affirmation of the principle votes from 1642 to 1645. The one capital
point of a responsibility, virtual though not formal, lodged in the
crown, and secured through a responsible ministry--this great principle,
which Charles I. once conceded in the case of Lord Strafford, but ever
afterwards to his dying day repented and abjured, was at length for ever
established, and almost by acclamation. In a case so novel, however, to
Englishmen, and as yet so unsettled, could it be looked for that a
foreigner should master new political principles, to which on the
Continent there was nothing analogous?[7] This, it may be alleged, was
not looked for. Salmasius was in the hands of a party; and his
prejudices, it may be thought, were confluent with theirs. Not
altogether. The most enlightened of the English royalists were sensible
of some call for a balance to the regal authority; it cannot be
pretended that Hyde, Ormond, or Southampton, wished their king to be the
fierce "_Io el rey_" (so pointedly disowning his council) of Castile, or
the "_L'etat? C'est moi_" of France, some few years later. Even for a
royalist, it was requisite in England to profess some popular doctrines;
and thus far Salmasius fell below his clients. But his capital
disqualification lay in his defect of familiarity with the English
people, habits, laws, and history.

[Footnote 7: It may be thought, indeed, that as a resident in Holland,
Salmasius should have had a glimpse of the new truth; and certainly it
is singular that he did not perceive the rebound, upon his Dutch
protectors, of many amongst his own virulent passages against the
English; unless he fancied some special privilege for Dutch rebellion.
But in fact he did so. There was a notion in great currency at the
time--that any state whatever was eternally pledged and committed to the
original holdings of its settlement. Whatever had been its earliest
tenure, that tenure continued to be binding through all ages. An
elective kingdom had thus some indirect means for controlling its
sovereign. A republic was a nuisance, perhaps, but protected by
prescription. And in this way even France had authorized means, through
_old_ usages of courts or incorporations, for limiting the royal
authority as to certain known trifles. With respect to the Netherlands,
the king of Spain had never held absolute power in those provinces. All
these were privileged cases for resistance. But England was held to be a
regal despotism.]

The English aristocracy furnished a question for drawing all these large
varieties of ignorance to a focus. In coming upon the ground of English
institutions, Salmasius necessarily began "verba nostra conari," and
became the garrulous parrot that Milton represents him. Yet, strange it
is, that the capital blunder which he makes upon this subject, was not
perceived by Milton. And this reciprocal misunderstanding equally arose
in the pre-occupation of their minds by the separate principles on
which, for each side, were founded their separate aristocracies. The
confusion between the parties arose in connexion with the House of
Commons. What _was_ the House of Commons? Salmasius saw that it was
contrasted with the House of Lords. But then, again, what _were_ the
Lords? The explanation given to him was, that they were the "noblesse"
of the land. _That_ he could understand; and, of course, if the other
house were antithetically opposed to the Lords, it followed that the
House of Commons was _not_ composed of noblesse. But, on the Continent,
this was equivalent to saying, that the Commons were _roturiers,
bourgeois_--in fact, mechanic persons, of obscure families, occupied in
the lowest employments of life. Accordingly Salmasius wrote his whole
work under the most serene conviction that the English House of Commons
was tantamount to a Norwegian Storthing, viz. a gathering from the
illiterate and labouring part of the nation. This blunder was committed
in perfect sincerity. And there was no opening for light; because a
continual sanction was given to this error by the aristocratic scorn
which the cavaliers of ancient descent habitually applied to the
prevailing party of the Roundheads; which may be seen to this hour in
all the pasquinades upon Cromwell, though really in his own
neighbourhood a "gentleman of worship." But for Salmasius it was a
sufficient bar to any doubt arising, that if the House of Commons were
not nobles, then were they not gentlemen--since to be a gentleman and to
be a _titled_ man or noble, on the Continent, were convertible terms. He
himself was a man of titular rank, deriving his title from the territory
of Saumaise; and in this needy scholar, behold a nobleman of France!
Milton, on the other hand, quite incapable of suspecting that Salmasius
conceived himself to stand on a higher level than an English senator of
the Commons, and never having his attention drawn to the chasm which
universally divides foreign from English nobility, naturally interpreted
all the invectives of Salmasius against the Lower House as directed
against their principles and their conduct. Thus arose an error, which
its very enormity has hitherto screened from observation.

What, then, _is_ this chasm dividing our nobility from that upon the
Continent? Latterly that point has begun to force itself upon the
attention of the English themselves, as travellers by wholesale on the
Continent. The sagacious observers amongst them could not avoid to
remark, that not unfrequently families were classed by scores amongst
the nobility, who, in England, would not have been held to rank with the
gentry. Next, it must have struck them that, merely by their numbers,
these continental orders of nobility could never have been designed for
any thing higher than so many orders of gentry. Finally, upon
discovering that there was no such word or idea as that of gentry,
expressing a secondary class distinct from a nobility, it flashed upon
them that our important body of a landed gentry, bearing no _titular_
honours of any kind, was inexpressible by any French, German, or Italian
word; that upon the whole, and allowing for incommunicable differences,
this order of gentry was represented on the Continent by the great mass
of the "basse noblesse;" that our own great feudal nobility would be
described on the Continent as a "haute noblesse;" and that amongst all
these perplexities, it was inevitable for an Englishman to misunderstand
and to be misunderstood. For, if he described another Englishman as not
being a nobleman, invariably the foreigner would presume it to be meant
that he was not a gentleman--not of the privileged class--in fact, that
he was a plebeian or _roturier_, though very possibly a man every way
meritorious by talents or public services. Whereas, on the contrary, we
English know that a man of most ancient descent and ample estates, one,
in the highest sense, a man of birth and family, may choose, on a
principle of pride, (and not unfrequently _has_ chosen,) obstinately to
decline entering the order of nobility. Take, in short, the well-known
story of Sir Edward Seymour, as first reported in Burnet's _Own Times_;
to every foreigner this story is absolutely unintelligible. Sir Edward,
at the Revolution, was one, in the vast crowd of country gentlemen
presented to the Prince of Orange, (not yet raised to the throne.) The
prince, who never had the dimmest conception of English habits or
institutions, thought to compliment Sir Edward by showing himself aware
of that gentleman's near relationship to a ducal house. "I believe, Sir
Edward," said the prince, "that you are of the Duke of Somerset's
family?" But Sir Edward, who was the haughtiest of the human race,
speedily put an extinguisher on the prince's courtesy by replying, in a
roar, "No, your highness: my lord duke is of mine." This was true: Sir
Edward, the commoner, was of that branch which headed the illustrious
house of Seymour; and the Duke of Somerset, at that era, was a cadet of
this house. But to all foreigners alike, from every part of the
Continent, this story is unfathomable. How a junior branch should be
ennobled, the elder branch remaining not ennobled, _that_ by itself
seems mysterious; but how the unennobled branch should, in some sense
peculiarly English, bear itself loftily as the depository of a higher
consideration (though not of a higher rank) than the duke's branch, this
is a mere stone of offence to the continental mind. So, again, there is
a notion current upon the Continent, that in England titular honours are
put up to sale, as once they really were, by Charles I. in his
distresses, when an earldom was sold for L.6000; and so _pro rata_ for
one step higher or lower. Meantime, we all know in England how entirely
false this is; and, on the other hand, we know also, and cannot but
smile at the continental blindness to its own infirmity, that the
mercenary imputation which recoils from ourselves, has, for centuries,
settled upon France, Germany, and other powers. More than one hundred
and thirty thousand French "nobles," at the epoch of the Revolution, how
did most of them come by their titles? Simply by buying them in a
regular market or bazar, appointed for such traffic. Did Mr St----, a
respectable tailor, need baronial honours? He did not think of applying
to any English minister, though he was then actually resident in London;
he addressed his litanies to the chancery of Austria. Did Mr ----, the
dentist, or Mr R----, the banker, sigh for aristocratic honours? Both
crossed the Channel, and marketed in the shambles of France and Germany.

Meantime the confusion, which is inveterate upon this subject, arose out
of the incompatible grounds upon which the aristocracies of England and
the Continent had formed themselves. For the continental there seemed to
exist no exclusive privilege, and yet there _was_ one. For the English
there existed practically a real privilege, and yet in law there was
_none_. On the Continent, no titled order had ever arisen without
peculiar immunities and powers, extending oftentimes to criminal
jurisdictions; but yet, by that same error which has so often vitiated a
paper currency, the whole order, in spite of its unfair privileges, was
generally depreciated. This has been the capital blunder of France at
all times. Her old aristocracy was so numerous, that every provincial
town was inundated with "comptes," &c.; and no villager even turned to
look on hearing another addressed by a title. The other day we saw a
return from the Legion of Honour: "Such in these moments, as in all the
past," France, it appeared, had already indorsed upon this suspicious
roll not fewer than forty-nine thousand six hundred and odd
beneficiaries. Let the reader think of forty-nine thousand six hundred
Knights of the Bath turned loose upon London. Now _ex adverso_ England
must have some virtual and operative privilege for _her_ nobility, or
else how comes it, that in any one of our largest provincial
towns--towns so populous as to have but four rivals on the Continent--a
stranger saluted seriously by the title of "my lord," will very soon
have a mob at his heels? Is it that the English nobility can dispense
with immunities from taxation, with legal supremacies, and with the
sword of justice; in short, with all artificial privileges, having these
two authentic privileges from nature--stern limitation of their numbers,
and a prodigious share in the most durable of the national property?
Vainly does the continental noble flourish against such omnipotent
charters the rusty keys of his dungeon, or the sculptured image of his
family gallows. Power beyond the law is not nobility, is not antiquity.
Tax-gatherers, from the two last centuries, have been the founders of
most titled houses in France; and the _prestige_ of antiquity is,
therefore, but rarely present. But were it otherwise, and that a
"noblesse" could plead one uniform descent from crusaders, still, if
they were a hundred thousand strong--and, secondly, had no
property--and, thirdly, comprehended in their lists a mere gentry,
having generally no pretensions at all to ancient or illustrious
descent, they would be--nothing. And exactly on that basis reposes the
difference between the Continent and England. Eternally the ridiculous
pretence of being "noble" by family, seems to claim for obscure
foreigners some sort of advantage over the plain untitled Englishman;
but eternally the travelled Englishman recollects, that, so far as this
equivocal "nobility" had been really fenced with privileges, those have
been long in a course of superannuation; whilst the counter-vailing
advantages for his own native aristocracy are precisely those which time
or political revolutions never _can_ superannuate.

Thus far as to the constitution of the British nobility and those broad
popular distinctions which determine for each nobility its effectual
powers. The next point is, to exhibit the operation of these
differential powers in the condition of manners which they produce. But,
as a transitional stage lying between the two here described--between
the tenure of our aristocracy as a casual principle, and the popular
working of our aristocracy as an effect--we will interpose a slight
notice of the habits peculiar to England by which this effect is partly
sustained.

One marked characteristic of the English nobility is found in the
popular education of their sons. Amongst the great feudal aristocracies
of Spain or of Austria, it was impossible that the heirs of splendid
properties should be reared when boys in national institutions. In
general, there _are_ no national institutions, of ancient and royal
foundation, dedicated to education in either land. Almost of necessity,
the young _graf_ or _fuerst_, (earl or prince,) _conde_ or _duca_, is
committed to the charge of a private tutor, usually a monk. The habits
of continental universities have always been riotous and plebeian; the
mode of paying the professors, who answer to the college tutors of
Oxford and Cambridge, has always been degrading--equally degrading to
them and to literature; whilst, in relation to all academic authority,
such modes of payment were ruinous, by creating a systematic dependence
of the teacher upon the pupil. To this account may be added, that in all
countries, where great elementary schools are wanting, the universities
are improperly used as their substitutes. Consequently these pupils are
too often boys, and not young men, in age; whilst in habits, not
belonging to the aristocracy, they are generally gross, unpolished, and
illiberal. The great bulk are meant for the professions of the land; and
hence, from an early period, the education has been too ecclesiastical
in its cast. Even at this day, it is too strictly professional. The
landed aristocracy resort to such institutions in no healthy
proportions; and the reason lies in their too exclusive dedication to
the _military_ service. It is true that, in the rude concussion given to
all Germany and Spain by the French revolutionary aggressions, many
changes have occurred. In particular, for North Germany, viz. Prussia,
Russian Poland, and Saxony, such a new and vast body has arisen of
_civil_ functionaries, that a new name and classification for this order
has been found necessary amongst British travellers and German
economists. But this change has not commensurately affected the German
universities. The military character still overshadows the professional.
The law is in no esteem, and leads to no political consideration. The
church is in the same degradation. The German pastor is too essentially
humble in his social condition to present any resistance to feudal or
military arrogance. A German clergyman is not, in that emphatic sense
which makes itself felt amongst ourselves, a gentleman. The rural pastor
of Germany is too often, in effectual weight of character, little more
than the "Amen" clerk of our English establishment. If he is treated
courteously, as amongst very elevated persons he is, this concession he
owes to _their_ high bred refinement, and not to any dignity which
clothes himself. _There_ we speak of the reformed churches, whether
Calvinist, Lutheran, or the new syncratistic church, manufactured by the
present government of Prussia. But in Popish countries, the same
tendency is seen on a larger scale: the whole ecclesiastical body,
parochial or monastic, retires from the contests of life; and fails,
therefore, to contribute any part of the _civil_ resistance needed for
making head against the military profession. On the other hand, in
England, through the great schools of Eton, Harrow, &c., children even
of ducal families are introduced to public life, and to popular
sympathies, through the discipline of what may be called miniature
republics. No country on earth, it is rightly observed by foreigners,
shows so much of aristocratic feeling as England. It cannot, therefore,
be denied--that a British duke or earl at Eton, and more especially in
his latter stages when approaching the period of his majority, is the
object of much deference. Entering upon the time when practically he
becomes _sui juris_, he has far too much power and influence to be
treated with levity. But it is equally true, that a spirit of republican
justice regulates his childish intercourse with his fellow _alumni_: he
fights battles on equal terms with any of them, when he gives or
receives offence. He plays at cricket, he sails or rows his boat,
according to known _general_ regulations. True, that his private tutor
more often withdraws a patrician boy from the public sports: but, so
long as he is a party of them, he neither is, nor, from the nature of
such amusements, could be indulged with any special immunities. The
_Condes_ and _Ducas_ of Spain, meantime, have been uniformly reared at
home: for this we have the authority of Spanish economists, as also of
many travellers. The auspicious conductor of the young grandee's
education are usually his mother's confessor and his mother's
waiting-women. Thence comes the possibility that a Spanish prince should
have degraded himself in the eyes of Europe as a sempster and
embroiderer of petticoats. Accordingly, the highest order of the Spanish
nobility is said to be physically below the standard of their
countrymen, in a degree too apparent to escape general notice; whilst in
the same relations our own nobility has been generally pronounced the
finest _animal_ race amongst us.

Another great feature in the system of our English training, is the
severe separation of children from servants. Many are the families of
mere English gentry, totally removed from the nobility, who never permit
their children to enter the servants' hall nor the kitchen. And the
probable remark upon so rigorous a separation, which an inconsiderate
person will make, that it is founded upon aristocratic arrogance,
happens to be in the very teeth of the truth. We shall content ourselves
with saying, that the comfort as well as benefit of both parties were
promoted by such an arrangement; whilst, so far from arguing hauteur, it
was the high civil condition of the English servant, which, by forcing
respect from his master, first widened the interval between the two
ranks, and founded a wholesome repulsion between them. In our own times,
we have read descriptions of West India planters admitting the infant
children of their slaves to play and sprawl about their saloons: but
now, since the slave has acquired the station of a free man, and (from
the fact of not having won this station meritoriously, but passively
received it as a boon) is too generally disposed to use it in a spirit
of defiance, does any man expect such scenes for the future? Through the
prevalence of habit, old cases of that nature may happen to survive
locally: but in the coming generation, every vestige of these indulgent
relations will have disappeared in the gloomy atmosphere of jealous
independence. That infant, who had been treated with exemplary kindness
as a creature entirely at the mercy of his master, and the living
monument of his forbearance, will be thrown sternly upon his legal
rights when he has the power of enforcing those rights in so many
instances against his patron. This case, from its abruptness, involves
unamiable features: but the English case had developed itself too
gradually and naturally to be otherwise than purely dignified for both
parties. In the age of Beaumont and Fletcher, (say 1610-1635,) gentlemen
kicked and caned their servants: the power to do so, was a privilege
growing out of the awful distance attached to rank: and in Ireland, at
the opening of the present century, such a privilege was still matter of
prescriptive usage, and too frequently furnished the matter for a
menace. But the stealthy growth of civilization and of civil liberty in
England, moved onwards so surely, under the stimulation of manufacturing
industry, (making menial service a secondary object for the poor,) that
before 1750, a gentleman, forgetting himself so far as to strike a
servant, would have been recalled to better thoughts by an action for
assault. On the Continent, for the very reason that no such rights had
been matured for servants, it was possible to treat them with much more
indulgence: because the relations between the two parties were less
honourable, allowing to the servant nothing in the way of absolute
right; for that very reason, it was possible to treat him as a child who
founds his power upon his weakness. In fact, the whole philosophy on
this subject will be found practically embodied in the household economy
of Rome about the time of Hannibal, as unfolded by Plautus. The
relations of master and servant are there exhibited in a state of
absolute pessimism: any thing worse, it is beyond the wit of men to
imagine. Respect or deference on the part of the slave towards his
master, there is none: contempt more maliciously expressed for his
master's understanding, familiarity more insolent, it is difficult to
imagine. This was in part a tendency derived from republican
institutions: but in part also it rests upon the vicious independence in
the master of all authority founded upon moral forces. Instant physical
coercion, the power of cross, gallows, _pistrinum_, and the domestic
scourge--these were the forces which made the Roman master careless of
verbal disrespect, indifferent to censure, from them whose opinions were
as impotent as those of an infant. The slave, again, on _his_ side, is
described as so thoroughly degraded, that he makes the disfiguration of
his own person by the knout, the _cancellation_ of his back by stripes
and scars--a subject of continual merriment. Between two parties thus
incapacitated by law and usage for manly intercourse, the result was
exactly such by consummation as on many parts of the Continent it still
is by tendency. The master welcomed from his slave that spirit of
familiar impertinence which stirred the dull surface of domestic life,
whilst, at any moment, a kick or a frown could silence the petty battery
when it was beginning to be offensive. Without a drawback, therefore, to
apprehend where excesses too personal or stinging could be repressed as
certainly as the trespasses of a hound, the Plautine master drew from
his servant, without anxiety, the comic services which, in the middle
ages, were drawn from the professional "fool." This original vice in the
constitution of society, though greatly mitigated, in the course of two
centuries from the era of Plautus, by the progress of intellectual
luxury, was one main fountain of that coarseness which, in every age,
deformed the social intercourse of Romans; and, especially, it was the
fountain of that odious scurrility and tongue-license which defeated the
majestic impression else sure to have waited on the grand position of
the senate. Cicero himself was as great a ruffian in his three functions
of oratory, viz. at the bar, in the popular assemblies, and in the
senate--he was as foul a libeller--as malignant--and as plebeian in his
choice of topics--as any "verna" in Rome when sparring with another
"verna." This scandal of Roman society was not, undoubtedly, a pure
product, from the vernile scurrility of which we hear so much in Roman
writers--other causes conspired; but certainly the fluency which men of
rank exhibited in this popular accomplishment of Billingsgate had been
at all times sustained by the models of this kind resounding for ever in
the streets of Rome, and in the purlieus of great mansions. Mr
Coleridge, who had seen nothing but superior amiableness in the familiar
sort of friendship existing between a French gentleman and his servant,
where, in fact, it had survived as a relic from old political
degradations, might consistently proclaim in rapture, when writing to a
lady upon the _Philosophic Dialogues_ of Cicero, "What perfect gentlemen
were[8] these old Romans!" He who suffers a single feature of
amiableness to screen the general misconstruction of social relations,
may easily find a spirit of chivalrous courtesy in what, after all, was
only a self-protecting meanness, applied to one special case of private
intercourse under a brutalizing system applied to all other intercourse
between men of public distinction. It is certain that the prevailing
relations upon the Continent between master and servant, did, before the
French Revolution, and do still, express a vicious structure of society;
they have _repeated_, in other forms, the Roman type of civilisation;
whilst we, with a sterner exterior, have been the first to stamp
respectability upon menial and mechanic labour.

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