English Life

"Mansfield, Sotherton, Thornton Lacey," he continued; "what society will be comprised in those houses."

English Meals
(from Robert Southey’s “Letters from England,” written in 1802)

THE ENGLISH do not eat beef-stakes for breakfasts, as lying travellers have told us, nor can I find that it has ever been the custom. The breakfast-table is a cheerful sight in this country: porcelain of their own manufactory, which excels the Chinese in elegance of form and ornament, is ranged on a Japan waiter, also of the country fabric; for here they imitate everything. The mistress sits at the head of the board, and opposite to her the boiling water smokes and sings in an urn of Etruscan shape. The coffee is contained in a smaller vase of the same shape, or in a larger kind of tea-pot, wherein the grain is suspended in a bag; but nothing is so detestable as an Englishman’s coffee. The washing of our after-dinner cups would make a mixture as good; the infusion is just strong enough to make the water brown and bitter. This is not occasioned by oeconomy, though coffee is enormously dear, for these people are extravagant in the expenses of the table: they know no better; and if you tell them how it ought to be made, they reply, that it must be very disagreeable, and that even if they could drink it so strong, it would prevent them from sleeping. There is besides an act of parliament to prevent the English from drinking good coffee: they are not permitted to roast it themselves, and of course all the fresh and finer flavour evaporates in the warehouse. They make amends however by the excellence of their tea, which is still very cheap, though the ministry, in violation of an explicit bargain, increased the tax upon it four fold, during the last war. This is made in a vessel of silver, or of a fine black porcelain: they do not use boiled milk with it, but cream instead in its fresh state, which renders it a very delightful beverage. They eat their bitter bread in various ways, either in thin slices, or roasted, or in small hot loaves, always with butter, which is the best thing in the country.

The dinner hour is usually five: the labouring part of the community dine at one, the highest ranks at six, seven, or even eight. The quantity of meat which they consume is astonishing! I verily believe that what is drest for one dinner here, would supply the same number of persons in Spain for a week, even if no fast-days intervened. Every where you find both meat and vegetables in the same crude and insipid state. The potato appears at table all the year found: indeed the poor subsist so generally upon this root, that it seems surprising how they could have lived before it was introduced from America. Beer is the common drink. They take less wine than we do at dinner, and more after it; but the custom of sitting for hours over the bottle, which was so prevalent of late years, has been gradually laid aside, as much from the gradual progress of the taxes as of good sense. Tea is served between seven and eight, in the same manner as at breakfast, except that we do not assemble round the table. Supper is rather a ceremony than a meal; but the hour afterwards, over our wine and water, or spirits, is the pleasantest in the day.

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Roast beef has been heard of wherever the English are known. I have more than once been asked at a table my opinion of the roast beef of Old England, with a sort of smile, and in a tone as if the national honour were concerned in my reply. The loin of beef is always called Sir, which is the same as Señor. Neither drunkenness nor gluttony can fairly be imputed as national vices to this people, and yet perhaps there is no other country where so much nice and curious attention is paid to eating and drinking, nor where the pleasures of the table are thought of such serious importance, and gratified at so great an expense. All parts of the world are ransacked for an Englishman’s table. Turtle are brought alive from the West Indies, and their arrival is of so much consequence, that notices are immediately sent to the newspapers, particularly stating that they are in fine order, and lively. Wherever you dine since peace has been concluded you see a Perigord pye. India supplies sauces and curry-powder; they have hams from Portugal and Westphalia; rein-deers’ tongues from Lapland; caviar from Russia; sausages from Bologna; maccaroni from Naples; oil from Florence; olives from France, Italy, or Spain, at choice; cheese from Parma and Switzerland. Fish come packed up in ice from Scotland for the London market, and the epicures here will not eat any mutton but what is killed in Wales. There is in this very morning’s newspaper a notice from a shop-keeper in the Strand, offering to contract with any person who will send him game regularly from France, Norway, or Russia.

The choice of inferior liquors is great; but all are bad substitutes for the pure juice of the grape. You have tasted their beer in its best state, and cider you have drank in Biscay. They have a beverage made from the buds of the fir-tree and treacle: necessity taught the American settlers to brew this detestable mixture, which is introduced here as a luxury. Factitious waters are now also become fashionable; soda-water particularly, the fixed air of which hisses as it goes down your throat as cutting as a razor, and draws tears as it comes up through the nose as pungent as a pinch of snuff. The common water is abominable; it is either from a vapid canal in which all the rabble of the outskirts wash themselves in the summer, or from the Thames, which receives all the filth of the city. it is truly disgraceful that such a city should be without an aqueduct. At great tables the wine stands in ice, and you keep your glass inverted in water. In nothing are they so curious as in their wines, though rather in the quality than the variety. They even send it abroad to be ripened by the motion of the ship, and by warmer climates; you see superior, London, picked, particular, East India Madeira advertised, every epithet of which must be paid for.

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On the mind of a stranger few things make a stronger impression than that courtesy of life which is called politeness in one class of society, and civility in another. By the former I do not mean the semblance of regard which is expressed by and dies upon the lips, but I mean that show of kindness which proves its sincerity by something more than empty forms, or unmeaning sounds; which proves, I say, by acts, there is a disposition to perform good deeds, as well as a tongue to speak of them. Hospitality has been most liberally extended to me and I am forced to declare that since I have been in the kingdom, I have seen much more of it than I have in a section of that country where I drew my earliest breath, was educated, and reared; or among a people whom I knew much better. Civility has been shown to me by all classes, and in all places where accident or business has brought me, evincing the general character of the people, and that it is their disposition to be kind and obliging.

In this country, as in all others, a stranger must have an introduction in some form or other, ere he can expect the rights of hospitality; but having this in a respectable manner, he has at once tendered to him those kindnesses which are always gratifying. When introduced to a family, if he does not feel at ease it must be his own fault.

With the native and frank kindness of English families, there is but a corresponding share of that ceremony which is a restraint upon actions; and with those to which I have been introduced, I have observed so little of it, that it appeared to me to be unknown; instead thereof, those forms only were adhered to which domestic arrangements absolutely required, or mere politeness dictated.

In the higher circles of society, where the tyranny of fashion exercises more influence, and where custom has established certain rules, there is consequently less freedom of action. Perhaps the form of government and the distinctions which it has created, has rendered their observance indispensable. Innovations upon established usages ought to be made with caution and respect.

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I do not hesitate to declare that I landed in England with some of the prejudices too common with my countrymen; but I did not commence the voyage, like some travellers, with a determination not to be pleased, or in that unhappy mood, which embittered the hours of the learned Doctor Smollet, in his tour to Nice. Forming my opinion of the English people from better data than those who visit our shores from mercantile or speculative views, I believed them to be polished and polite. I know them to be enterprising, scientific, and ingenious. I had no just grounds for doubting their candour and liberality.

I arrived in England as a stranger, and was personally unknown to every individual. My letters of introduction were sufficiently ample, and soon made me acquainted with several respectable families. Here, frankness and social harmony, without trifling forms, or other restrictions too commonly placed on a stranger, made me feel as if I were in the midst of old acquaintance, and forced me to distinguish between native kindness and artificial forms. A kind reception, a frank and open demeanour, will compel the stranger to believe he is not viewed as such, but that he is received into the family as one who is to share its confidence and partake of its pleasures. The behaviour of the female part demands still more my unqualified praise and approbation. They are affable without familiarity, and condescending with dignity. In conversation I have found them to be sprightly, unreserved, and intelligent; without that coyness or reserve which is very generally intermixed with the best qualities of the heart in the women of my own country, they are yet not without that modesty which heightens every charm, and adds dignity to every other trait. In such company, pleasure and improvement will both be received.

A great diversity of character, however, exists here, as in all other countries, where there is such an overflowing population, with so vast a disproportion in the distribution of wealth, producing a correspondent distinction of habits, manners and opinions. hence it is somewhat difficult, precisely to define national character. it is generally, but certainly very injudiciously, intended to express prevalent manners, which, every varying and changing, do not represent any genuine trait of the mind, or any thing which is uniform, stable, or consistent.

Literary men who have made mankind a subject of peculiar sturdy, agree in one point, that human nature is every where the same; and that the diversities in characters are the uniform result of education, of the influence of moral and physical circumstances, of geographical situations, peculiarities of climate, and historical events.

The character and constitution of the people of this country, are said to be principally moulded from “the perpetual variations of the climate, and the freedom of the political constitution.” The influence of government and its laws, upon the manners, habits, and opinions of a people, is, indubitably, very great; and from the ease of the first among all classes, with the indulgence which is given to an expression of opinions on all matters connected of not connected with the government, we may admit with some justice, that the English have a right to boast of their independence and freedom.

Englishmen have long had the character of being liberal, hospitable, and polite. My observations, thus far, confirm me in the opinion that they are so.

One who had been accustomed to the frivolous and unmeaning manners of a neighbouring nation, and who, in searching for character, would examine only the surface of things, might, at first view, mistake the natural bluntness of Englishmen, for rudeness, and their frankness for incivility. Frequently under an exterior somewhat coarse (as the beauties of a gem are hid by rubbish) the best qualities of the mind exist in ample store. They have been charged by some travellers as being lukewarm, or sometimes frigid. If this be admitted as a truth, solid reasons can be offered in justification of their prudent caution and occasional reserve.

Circumstances have combined to bring the best part of the English character into view. I mean that character which is something more than midway between the depressed state of the poorest and most ignorant manufacturers, and the higher ranks, who substitute wealth and titles for qualities; and who, with parade, forms, and ceremonies, impose on the multitude or the thoughtless, appearances for realities, or the shadow for the substance.

Since my arrival in the kingdom I have experienced an uniform kindness, which, as being offered to a stranger, could not but be pleasing, and, being as unsolicited, must originate from disposition. I have liberally shared in the rights of hospitality; and a civility which I would call characteristic, has been shown by those to whom I have been introduced by business or accident.

Under such circumstances, it would be ungrateful not to be pleased, and it would moreover evince a want of taste which I should be sorry not to possess. I need scarcely say, that the few prejudices which tinctured my mind on my arrival, are almost removed, and with the opportunities which have been offered me of forming an estimate of character, I must add, in a spirit of justice and liberality, they were ill-placed.

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August 9.----Celibacy is very common in England among men in easy circumstances, till a period of life when, from various reasons, they find it difficult to change their situations. I have known a considerable number of instances where gentlemen of polished manners and cultivated minds, live as bachelors, in a style of elegance and independence, often preferred in England to that state, which, as Johnson says, has many pains, although they do not appear to believe the other part of the adage, that celibacy has no pleasures.

I have dined today a few miles from London with a gentleman of this description. he has a charming rural situation, just on the declivity of a hill, which commands an extensive view of a wide and beautiful vale, intersected by a winding river, and hounded by verdant hills. This is only once instance our of thousands of that rural beauty with which England abounds. There is an unrivalled neatness in the fields and hedges, and an intenseness of verdue, which is not seen in countries scorched by a fervid summer sun.

Mr.----had spend several years in the United States, and is one of the few English travellers in our country who do it justice when they return home. He speaks of it as it is. He had been much in New-England, and is well acquainted with its manners. As I was sitting in a chair, he told me that he should have recognized me as a New-Englander, had he not known me. Upon my inquiring for the peculiarity which marked my origin, he told me that no one except a man educated in new-England ever leaned back in his chair, so as to make it stand upon the two hinder feet only. Although I was not in the least aware either that this was a custom peculiar to my country, or that I was then in so awkward a situation, I found that I was so indeed, and while the incident produced some mirth, in which I was happy to join, I am sure I shall never forget again that a chair ought to stand on four legs instead of two.

Our party, which was small and social, consisted entirely of Americans, and of Englishmen who had travelled in America, and of course there was much discussion concerning the merits of the two countries; and, out of compliment to the Americans present, even the peculiarities in the arrangements of the table in which there is any difference between England and us, were, in this instance, all in the American style.

After dinner we walked in the gardens till evening, when a bright an full moon made our return to London exceedingly pleasant. I was with two Americans in a post chaise, and reached home about nine o’clock.

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It will be, perhaps, somewhat hasty to assert that English women are not generally more beautiful than ours. With much of the rosy tint and alabaster white, they have less delicacy and regularity of features than American women generally. So fine, indeed, are their complexions, that it often supplies the want of that conformation of features which peculiarly constitutes beauty; and I have frequently been mistaken in the opinion I have formed of a woman’s face, from this circumstance. They owe to the peculiar nature of the climate, the fairness and floridity of their complexions. it is equally exempt from the scorching heat of torrid latitudes, which tans the skin and produces sallowness, and from the rigor of the icy regions which shrivels and contracts the features. The atmosphere is generally filled with a profusion of warm and moist exhalations, and a thick canopy of clouds intercepts the rays of the sun; thus adding to the influence of cleanliness and domestic comforts of the higher, middle, and some of the inferior classes, in giving a lively bloom to the countenance, and an evidence of vigorous health. Although I am willing to admit the general comeliness of English women, I am not disposed to admit the sentiment of a late writer, that England is the native seat of female beauty, or that it is found here in a higher degree of perfection than almost any other country.

The operation of the same cause, in part, which gives them such fine complexions, renders them more robust; and they have, consequently, not such good figures generally , or so much ease of gracefulness in their movements, as my fair countrywomen.

The complexion of the men is equally fine. It is in fact, the reverse of that which betrays the residence of a Georgian or Carolinian, and except when I meet one of these strolling along the streets, I did not behold any who had the brown hue bordering on the tawny, or the sallow countenances of half-animated beings, who seemed to have lived in dirt, or to have just risen from it.

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One of the peculiarities in this country is, that every body lives upon the ground floor, except the shopkeepers. The stable and coachhouse either adjoin the home, or more frequently are detached from it, and the kitchen is either at the back of the house on the ground floor, or under ground, which is usually the case in large towns, but never, as with us, above stairs. They wonder a our custom of living in the higher floors, and call it troublesome: I, on my part, cannot be reconciled to the inconvenience of living on a level with the street: the din is at your very ear, the window cannot be thrown open for the dust which showers in, and it is half darkened by blinds that the by-passers may not look in upon your privacy.

One room on the first floor is reserved for company, the rest are bed-rooms, for the beds, instead of standing in recesses, are placed in rooms as large as those in which we dwell. This occasions a great waste of space, the more remarkable, as ground is exceedingly valuable in the towns, and is rented by the square foot or front at a prodigious price. Nothing surprised me more at first, than the excellent workmanship of th doors and windows; no jarring with the wind, no currents of air, and the windows, which are all suspended by pulleys, rise with a touch. This is not entirely and exclusively owning to the skill of the English workmen, but in great measure also to the climate. When the wood has once been seasoned, neither the heat nor humidity of the atmosphere is eve sufficient to affect it materially. In good houses the doors have a strip of open brass work above the handle, that the servants may not soil them with their fingers.

An Englishman delights to show his wealth; every thing in his house, therefore, is expensive; a whole dwelling in our country is furnished at less cost than is bestowed here upon a single apartment. The description of our common sitting-room may be considered as a fair specimen. The whole floor is fitted with carpeting, not of the costliest kind, but both in texture and design far superior to what is usually seen in Spain. This remains down summer and winter, though in summer our matting would be far more suitable, if the fashion were introduced. Before the fire is a smaller carpet of different fabric, and fleecy appearance, about two yards long, and not quite half as broad; a fashion of late years which has become universal, because it is at once ornamental, comfortable, and useful, preserving the larger one, which would else soon be worn out in that particular part. Of the fire-places I have already spoken; here the frontal is marble, and above is a looking-glass the whole length of the mantle piece, divided into three compartments by gilt pillars which support a gilt architrave. On each side hang bell-ropes of coloured worsted, about the thickness of a man’s wrist, the work of Mrs. J-----and her sister, which suspend knobs of polished spar. The fender is remarkable; it consists of a crescent basket work of wire painted green, about a foot in height, topt with brass, and supporting seven brazen pillars of nearly the same height, which also are surmounted by a band of brass. This also is a late fashion introduced in consequence of the numberless accidents occasioned by fire. Almost every newspaper contains an account that some woman has been burnt to death, and they are at last beginning to take some means of precaution.

The chairs and tables are of a wood brought from Honduras, which is in great request here, of a fine close grain, and a reddish brown colour, which becomes more beautiful as it grows darker with age. The history of this wooe, of which all the finer articles of furniture exclusively are made, is rather singular. A West Indian Captain, about a century ago, brought over some planks as ballast, and gave them to his brother, Dr. Gibbons, a physician of great eminence, who was then guilding a house. The workmen, however, found the wood too hard for their tools, and it was thrown aside. Some time afterwards, his wife wanted a box to hold candles, the doctor thought of his West Indian wood, and in spite of the difficulty which ws still found in working it, had the box made. He admired its colour and polish so much, that he had a bureau made of it also; and this was thought so beautiful, that it was shown to all his friends. Among others, the Duchess of Buckingham came to see it, and begged enough of the wood to make her a bureau also. From that moment, the demand was so great, that it became a regular article of trade, and as long as the woods of Honduras last it is likely to continue so. There is reason to believe that the tree would grow in England, as there are some flourishing plants in the neighbourhood of London which have been raised from seed. Formerly the tables were made of the solid plank; but English ingenuity has now contrived to give the same appearance at a far less cost of materials, by facing commoon deal with a layer of the fine wood not half a barleycorn in thickness. To give you and idea of the curiosity with which all these things are executed, is impossible; nohing can be more perfect.

Our breakfast table is oval, large enough for eight or nine persons, yet supported upon one claw in the centre. This is the newest fashion, and fashions change so often in these things, as well as in every thing else, that it is esy to know how long it is since a house has been fitted up, by the shape of the furniture. An upholder just now advertises Commodes, Console-tables, Ottomans, Chaiselonges, and Chiffoniers;--what are all these? you ask. I asked the same question, and could find no person in the house who could answer me; but they are all articles of the newest fashion, and no doubt all will soon be thought indispensably necessary in every well furnished house. Here is also a nest of tables for the ladies, consisting of four, one less than another, and each fitting into the one above it; you would take them for play-things, from their slenderness and size, if you did not see how useful they find them for their work. A harpsichord takes up the middle of one side of the room, and in the corners are screens to protect the face from the fire, or mahogany, with fans of green silk, which spread like a flower, and may be raised or lowered at plrasure. A book-case standing on a chest of drawers completes the heavy furniture, it has glazed doors, and curtains of green silk within.

But I should give you a very inadequate idea of an English room were I to stop here. Each window has blinds to prevent the by-passers from looking in; the plan is taken from the Venetian blinds, but made more expansive, as the bars are fitted into a frame and move in grooves. The shutters fit back by day, and are rendered ornamental by the gilt ring by which they are drawn open: at night you perceive that you are in a land of house-breakers, by the contrivnces for baring them, and the bells which are fixed on to alarm the family, in case the house should be attacked. On each side of the window the curtains hang in festoons, they are of rich painted cotton, lined with a plain colour and fringe, the quantity they contain is very great. Add to this a sconce of the most graceful form, with six prints in gilt frames, and you have the whole scene before you. Two of these are Noel’s views of Cadiz and Lisbon; the others are from English history, and represent the battles of boyne and La Hogue, the death of General Wolfe at Quebec, and William Penn treating with the Indians for his province of Pennsylvania.

Let us proceed to the dining-room. Here the table is circular, but divides in half to receive a middle part which lengthens it, and this is so contrived that it may be made to suit any number of persons from six to twenty. The sideboard is a massier piece of furniture; formerly a single slab of marble was used for this purpose, but now this is bacome one of the handsomest and most expensive articles. The glasses are arranged on it ready for dinner, and the knoves and forks in two little chests or cabinets, the spoons are between them in a sort of urn; every thing being made costly and ornamental.

The drawing-room differs chiefly from the breakfast parlour in having everything more expensive, a carpet of richer fabric, csonces and mirrors more highly ornamented, and curtains of damask like the sofas and chairs. Two chanedliers with glass drops stand on the mantle-piece; but in these we excel the English; they have not the brilliancy of those from the royal fabric at St. Idlefonso. In this room are the portraits of J----and his wife, by one of the best living artists, so admirably executed as to make me blush for the present state of the arts in Spain.

Having proceeded thus far, I will go through the house. J----took me into his kitchen one day to show me what is called the kitchen-range, which has been constructed upon the philosophical principles of Count Rumford, a German philosopher, the first person who has applied scientific discoveries to the ordinary purposes of life. The top of the fire is covered with an iron plate, so that the flame and smoke, insted of ascending, pass through bars on the one side, nd there heat an iron front, against which food may be roasted as well as by the fire itself; it passes on heating stoves and boilers s it goes, and the smoke is not suffered to pass up the chimney till it can no longer be of any use. On the other side is an oven heated by the sme fire, and vessels for boiling may be placed on the plate over the fire. The smoke finally sends a kind of wheel in motion in the chimney, which turns the spit. I could not but admire the comfort and cleanliness of every thing about the kitchen; a dresser as white as when the wood was new, the copper and tin vessels bright and burnished, the chain in which the spit plays, bright; the plates and dishes ranged in order along the shelves, and I could not but wish our durty Domingo were here to take a lesson of English cleanliness. There is a back kitchen in which all the dirty work is done, into which water is conveyed by pipes. The order and cleanliness of every thing made even this room cheerful, though under ground, where the light enters only from an area, and the face of the sky is never seen.

And now, for my own apartment, where I am now writing. It is on the second floor, the more, therefore, to my liking, as it is less noisy, and I breathe in a freer atmosphere. My bed, though neither covered with silk nor satin, has as much ornament as is suitable; silk or satin would not give that clean appearance which the English always require, and which I have already learnt to delight in. Hence, the damask curtains which were used in the last generation have given place to linens. These are full enough to hang in folds; by day they are gathered round the bed posts, which are light pillars of mahogany supporting a frame work, covered wit hthe same furniture as the curtains; and valances are fastened round tis frame, both withinside the curtains and without, and again round the sides of the bedstead. The blankets are of the natural colour of the wool, quite plain; the sheets plain also. I have never seen them flounced nor laced, nor ever seen a striped or coloured blanket. The counterpane is of all English manufactures the least tasteful; it is of white cotton, ornamented with cotton knots, in shapes as graceless as the cut box in a garden. My window curtains are the same pattern as the bed; a mahogany press holds my clothes, an oval looking-glass swung lengthways stands on the dressing-table. A compact kind of chest holds the bason, the soap, the tooth brush, and wate glass, each in a separate compartment; and a looking-glass, for the purpose of shavint at, (for Englishmen usually shave themselves), slips up and down behind, the water-jug and wate bottle stand below, and the whole shurs down a-top, and closes in front like a cabinet. The room is carpeted; here I have my fire, my table, and my cassette; here I study, and here minute down every thing which I see or learn--how industriously you will perceive, and how faithfully, you who best know me, will best know.

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ALMOST all travellers have remarked the extreme neatness and great attention to comfort, in the houses of the English; and I must add my testimony to others who have gone before me. With much simplicity, there is generally much of elegance. The furniture is not crowded, generally uniform in its appearance, plain, and of the best materials and workmanship. The rooms into which visitors are generally shown are not commonly decorated with paintings or prints, which in most well furnished houses have places appropriated for them. In every thing, indeed, which appertains to domestic economy, the English people maybe said to excel; and this remark applies with like force to their houses, diet and dress, but more especially to the first. Domestic architecture has attained to the highest state of perfection: convenience with elegance and neatness with simplicity, and uniform attention to comfort in the whole arrangements, have combined to render an English genteel house the most complete of the kind, and a model for imitation.

Where few servants are kept, it has become a matter of importance to consult arrangement in the houses and furniture, by which so much labour is saved. From the kitchen to the garret, they are alike commodious; and of late years, the improvements of Count Rumford and other scientific men, with the ingenuity of he manufacturers in articles for domestic use, have united to render the first named apartment the most complete, decent, and convenient. Among the important purposes to which steam has been made subservient, is here also converted to a variety of uses, such as boiling, stewing, &c. The opening for the fire is small, and almost every thing is hid beneath a neat front of polished iron, and wherein are placed the various cooking utensils. Even the smoke is not suffered to pass off in mere waste, for in its passage up the chimney it puts a wheel in motion, which turns a spit. All this, however, excited my admiration less than did the extreme cleanliness, order, neatness and convenience of every thing appertaining to the cooking department.

Viewing the dresser scoured as white as if new; the tin and other vessels shining as if just from the maker’s hands; the neat arrangement of the plates, dishes, &c. in brightened rows; I could not but compare in my mind the whole system or arrangement with one of those kitchens, west of the Atlantic, where but little attention is paid either to cleanliness or convenience, regularity or order.

In most well finished and genteel houses, there is on the lower or first sory above ground, a breakfast room, which is also the common sitting-room, a dining-room, parlour, and library. There is generally a nursery; and the bed-chambers are not the least ornamented, or least expensive part of the dwelling. Great taste is evinced in the furniture and decoration of the chambers; and every thing corresponds in colour, and is fitted to the place where it is to stand; and here, as in every other part of the house, cleanliness is particularly remarkable. herein these people seem to delight and to excel.

While I was partaking of the hospitality of a gentleman at his house in the country, I particularly noticed the simple and chaste elegance and uniformity of the chamber in which I lodged: he told me it cost two hundred pounds sterling. There was but one bed in the room, two chairs, two small tables, painted of a similar colour, with the bed and window curtains; a mirror, utensils for washing, and steps, covered with Kidderminster carpeting, on each side of the bed.

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The English servants are also greatly superior to ours; and those who have been accustomed to the management of slaves and negroes, will not fail to remark on the difference. English servants are withal civil, obliging, active, and obedient. They are and must be industrious; for few families keep more than a maid-servant, boy, cook, and sometimes a nurse where there are children. Even with a less number the domestic affairs are conducted with ease and regularity.

English servants call their employers master and mistress; but notwithstanding the distance which separates them, and the humility of the menials, they cannot--they dare not be chastised. Even in this aristocratic government, the most dignified peer of the realm is extremely cautions in striking his domestic; the latter may defend himself, or resort to the law for redress. It is prompt to afford justice, and herein Englishmen may boast of their rights. Poverty and dependence do not contribute to the happiness of this life, therefore it is cruel to make the state of those more uncomfortable, who are compelled to live in servitude, by any conduct which the laws will not justify, or at which reason or humanity revolt.

The rights which and English servant claims, and which are equally his due with the first citizen in the kingdom, do not make him impertinent or assuming. Treated with kindness and condescension, and receiving good wages, he is generally zealous and active in the discharge of his duties, for upon this, principally, he depends for a good character.

In the inns and coffee-houses, they are prompt and wonderfully active in their several stations: they are also polite and obliging; and the traveller gives the recompense of a sixpence, or two, or three shillings, according to the time he has been in the house, with as much pleasure for the civility with which he has been treated, as they receive it with grateful thanks.

The servants or waiters always expect a reward, for many of them get no wages, but depend solely upon the douceurs, which long established custom entitles them to receive.

The appearance of many of the female servants is such as will sometimes almost embarrass a stranger, who may mistake the maid for the mistress. Their dress is uniformly neat, cleanly, made with taste, and with some regard to the prevailing fashion. Their duties are not arduous, and those who have the more important care of the house, have more or less leisure, which they may pass as they please. In common with the females of the higher ranks of society, they are generally comely, and often handsome.

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The breakfasts are generally very frugal, consisting commonly of tea, and muffins or hot rolls, with good butter. Coffee is less frequently used; and it is seldom good. I could rarely get it strong or clear, and in this only does there seem to be any proof that the English do not understand cooking.

On the morning after my arrival, I was waiting for breakfast with a pretty keen appetite, as is usual with persons landed from a long voyage. I observed on a small table large enough for one or two persons, a tea-cup and saucer, a tea-pot, milk-pot, sugar dish, plate, and a small catty with tea: the tea-kettle was boiling on an utensil with live coals; and presently a plate of warm rolls was brought in. The waiter said breakfast was ready. I asked where it was, and he pointed to the table. He was requested to bring in a beefsteak and an egg or two; he seemed surprised at this strange order, but quickly obeyed it. Such, however, is the force of habit, that I gradually became accustomed to this meal in the English stile.

Dinner is the principal meal, but even in this, the table is never loaded or crowded with dishes at one time. There is frequently more than one course, before the dessert is brought in, or previous to the introduction of bread and cheese. Ale, table beer, cyder, and porter, constitute the usual drinks at dinner, and wine is seldom introduced until the cloth is removed. Port is commonly drunk, although in most genteel houses you will meet with Madeira. The last is generally less pure than is drank in the United States. The drinking of healths is nearly abolished or at least that general salute of everyone at table. It is commonly sufficient to address the person with whom you take a glass of wine.

One of the greatest peculiarities in the diet of the people, is the quantity of meats which they use; and if excellence is their kind, (especially beef and mutton,) be any plea for the apparent superabundant quantity that is met with in most houses, they may offer it with truth, and boast of it with justice.

Tea, with toast or bread and butter, is the general beverage of the evening; and of this it is said, more is used in England than in all the rest of Europe beside. It is drunk by all classes of people, from the most humble cottager to the richest and most fashionable citizen; but the better qualities are not used so generally as in the United States.

Supper, about ten o’clock, consists commonly of one or two dishes, perhaps the remains of the dinner, oysters, or partridges, if in season. These are excellent; indeed they are esteemed not only a delicacy, but a luxury. Hence they are frequently sent a great distance, as presents, to London, as it was here I first ate them; a few pair being sent from the neighborhood of Bath to a friend with whom I supped. I would call the supper of these people the most agreeable meal. The business of the day being over, and the family assembled, with occasionally a friend or two, there is leisure for social conversation. Frequent opportunities of partaking of them, justify my saying that I would rather join an English family at their supper than at a dinner table, groaning with all the luxuries and dainties of the confectioner and pastry-cook. At the former, restraint and ceremony are banished; consequently there is more of unreserved chit-chat, in which the mistress of the house takes a part. Conversation has more charms for me, and is most delicate and refined, when kept up by women; and the tongue of licentiousness or libertinism is checked or restrained by their presence.

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The public houses are called inns, but besides these there are hotels, coffee, porter and ale houses. On the day of my arrival in Liverpool, I took lodgings at the Star and Garter, in Paradise Street, a very quiet, decent, and well-kept house. the charges are moderate. Strangers should at once make enquiry into the customs and usages of the house, by which trouble will be often avoided. They are similar in all. The regulations are not arbitrary. No absolute or fixed hours are observed for meals, and each individual may breakfast, dine, and sup at any hour he may choose, and alone if he prefers it. Few breakfast early in the summer months, and it is not unusual to see persons partaking of this meal from eight until twelve o’clock, as may chance to be most convenient to them. At this meal, meats rarely make their appearance, and coffee very seldom.

The apparatus of the breakfast table I have already described. Dinner may be ordered at any hour, and of almost any kind or number of dishes, of things that are in season. The charge is in proportion to the one or the other, and hence a dinner may cost from three shillings to two guineas. In fine, travellers may in this respect be entirely regulated by their own taste and convenience.

In many of the best inns the landlord seldom makes his appearance, or seems to have the directing of the house. This is generally entrusted to a servant who receives all orders, and payment for bills; and who, in fact, has almost the sole control and management of it. He seldom receives any wages, and yet, in some of the larger inns, his place is one of considerable profit. I have been told that a premium of a hundred pounds has been given for such a situation in some of the principal inns and hotels.

The waiters always expect (and indeed, very commonly demand it as their due) some compensation from every one who lodges or eats in the house; the custom is so well established as to have acquired the force of law. Strangers should know this and attend to it, for by neglecting to comply with the established usage, they will be censured for meanness, and not receive that attention which will be the reward of a contrary disposition. Should a visiter, however, chance to forget it at his departure, the servants will not fail to remind him of his duty even at the carriage door; and the principal waiter, the servant who has commonly attended at table, the chamber-maid, and he who has cleaned the boots, will crowd about him, demanding, and anxious to receive their respective dues. The last mentioned personage is called “Boots,” and he commonly acts as porter in the house. The sum to be given to the servants is not precisely fixed, but may be regulated by the will of the donor. It is somewhat at the following rate, where the person has not remained more than one night at the house.

To the principal servant one shilling, the same to the chamber-maid, and six-pence to Boots. Half of these sums for each night, is deemed a liberal compensation where the person has been several days a lodger.

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With much of good-breeding in combination with most of those qualities which make ladies of women, and gentlemen of the other sex, there is still, as in all great commercial towns, much depravity both among men and women. In the latter it is particularly exemplified by the number of filles de joie, or filles de chambre, who throng the principal streets as soon as night has shrouded them in darkness; and who, by their freedom of manners, and frequently their obscenity, announce their profession, and the miserable condition to which they have been reduced. They are, however, seldom insolent. It is evident to a common observer that there is a vast disproportion in the numbers of men and women, and this may in part account for the crowd of prostitutes who infest the streets, and too frequently annoy passengers. An extreme inattention to the education of the lower classes of females, may be assigned as another reason. They seem indeed, in the manufacturing towns especially, to be regarded as an inferior class of beings, and not only unworthy of the protection demanded by their sex, but fit subjects on which shall be exercised the arts of cunning, duplicity, and villainy by those who should be their protectors.

If sharpers and pick-pockets can be guarded against, it is more difficult for youth to resist the charms and seductive arts of the Cyprian damsels. The streets of Liverpool evinced, I thought, the depravity of the female character in a degree which persons who have never visited such places, would scarcely credit: but in London this depravity seems to be in proportion to the magnitude of the town, and the number of lewd women to increase in the same proportion. Exclusive of those who are privately kept, London is said to contain more than fifty thousand “women of pleasure.” In the parish of Mary-le-bone, which is one of the most populous in London, thirty thousand girls of easy virtue reside, of whom nearly two thousand are kept mistresses. In general they live well, and some even maintain a style of magnificence! It is most lamentable, that the charms with which nature has generally endowed English women should, by a conduct so opposed to virtue and decency, be so prostituted.

Should they not rather excite our pity, than our disgust or hatred? The manners of many of them are of the most polished kind, especially those who reside in the parish just mentioned, and near St. James’s. Many keep house, supporting servants in livery, and keeping a carriage. The poorest and most wretched portion of this class of society are kept by matrons, who board and clothe them, and who generally charge the unfortunate dependents more exorbitantly for their support. The uncertainty of receiving payment is one cause of this. When we see youth combined with the charms of a fine person and a fine face, these united with education, mildness, and good breeding, and the whole with a coyness which might be mistaken for modesty, our pity is excited for the object, who, with all these traits should be without delicacy or a sense of virtue. it is scarcely credible that so much real depravity should be found in combination with so many qualifications, which only serve as foils to virtue.

The taste, the manners, and the accomplishments of some of the ladies of pleasure in London, remind us of Lais, Thais, Bacchis, Lamia, and Glycera, with many other famed courtezans of antiquity, who claimed the heroes of Athens for their admirers, and boasted of having such men as Demetrius, Socrates, Diogenes, and Aristippus, in their train.

While, however, there are a few whose personal accomplishments alone entitle them to notice and commendation, a vast herd, on the contrary, disgrace the character of the sex, by a behaviour so shameless and so at variance with virtue, that the name only seems to be known to them. The germ of every good quality seems to be totally obliterated, and they practice the most wanton and seductive arts to enamour giddy and thoughtless youth, and sometimes even sedate and sober statesman. Such are the women of whom I spoke before, as infesting the streets of Liverpool, and who at this, the head quarters both of refined and vulgar depravity, make their appearance immediately after night, in such shoals, that they are to be met almost at every step, and in every street, square, lane, and ally. In such crowds do they throng the streets, that a stranger would be almost induced to say, in London,

“Every woman is at heart, a .......”

Dressed with neatness or with some regard to the prevailing fashion, and being generally handsome, they are seldom unsuccessful in their advances. As a trifling offset to their vices, it should be observed, that though they are forward and lascivious, they are seldom insolent. Their salutations cannot be mistaken, and they are easily repulsed.

One grade of these unfortunate women observe a comparative degree of modesty in their behaviour; they pace the streets in silence until they are accosted. To their disgrace be it mentioned, that among these street-walkers are many married women, who, living in less public parts of the town, seek for lovers in Westminster and the most frequented streets; and incredible as it may seem, even girls of nine and ten years of age are sometimes found to barter their charms and sacrifice their virtue. Surely there must be something radically wrong in a society where the germs of virtue are so speedily destroyed, and where females become public........ere they have scarcely slipped their leading strings. The subject is worthy the inquiry of civilians, and demands the strict attention of moralists, divines, and philosophers who should combine their efforts to check the progress of so destructive an evil. It is an evil partly originating from the refinement and extravagance of luxury, and partly from the great disproportion that exists between the number of males and females. I am not qualified to say what this disproportion is, but it is not difficult to assign the causes of it. The heart of the virtuous philanthropist must sicken at the recital of the catalogue of iniquitous persons who swell the population of the metropolis and its adjacent hamlets, and in the spirit of love for his fellow beings, he would be led to ask, whence springs this enormity of vice; from what impure source flows a stream so foul and so offensive? Tracing evil upwards to its origin, he would seek for it within the walls of St. James’s Palace and Windsor Castle; he would look for it about Carleton House, and the dwellings of the illustrious individuals of the blood-royal.

Looking a little farther, he would discover its ramifications extending their pestilential influence among the peers and nobles of the realm, who are all guilty in exact proportion to the power which such high examples exert on all the subordinate classes of society. Let me not, however, be misunderstood, or that I assert there is no virtue among the nobility, and that it is from their depravity the inferior orders catch the contagion of bad habits. There are exceptions; but I do say, the mass of the higher ranks, by their lives and their practices, give the most incontestable proof of my assertions. I would be more particular, but this is needless. The whole tenor of the Prince Regent’s life, and that of his royal brother, the Duke of York and Bishop Oznaburg, as illustrated by the pretty tales of the honourable Mrs. Clarke, are ample comments upon the morality which flows in the veins of the royal house of the Geulphs.

Facts like these confirm the position I have before laid down, that bad governments make bad people; and that if the head of a family is depraved, there is great risk of his offspring being contaminated by the examples which will be continually placed before them.

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