With all this, Mr. Fetlock was an excellent man; he had slaughtered all his passions, and his character was composed of the choicest cuts, such as good temper and benevolence. With these people, and only with these, I led a tranquil life.' I had listened with patience to my friend's discourse, which I con fess sensibly diminished my desire to go to the country for the season. The few moments of comfort which he had secured did not seem to me to be a sufficient compensation for the pain he had suffered; and I was on the point of relinquishing all intention of changing my lodgings, when he added: If you are bent upon going to the country, and want to be tranquil, I advise you to apply to the proprietors of a large establishment, pleasantly situated on the Hudson river, about twenty-five or thirty miles from the city. It is a stately stone edifice, which, though full of lodgers, is yet perfectly quiet, being conducted on an improved system, which is one of great order. The inmates are far from being obtrusive; in fact, are rather taciturn; their answers to each other being merely yea and nay. They are models of industry, devote their leisure hours to works of public utility exclusively, renounce amusements of every kind, so that they give neither balls nor soirées, and you are never annoyed by children, pet dogs, gocarts or rocking-horses. The apartments are furnished in the plainest manner, and are kept cool by being excluded from external air, so debilitating during the great heats. You will be required to conform to the established style of living; you cannot have partridges, quails, canvass-back ducks, nor any of the delicacies of the season, but must content yourself with the customary food, which is quite simple, and served with a regularity not seen in other houses. Many people hesitate about going, inasmuch as constant sameness is not pleasing; yet when once there, they have been known to remain a long time; while others, who after a certain period of sojourn have moved away, frequently come back again, and pass there the remainder of their lives. The manners of the inmates are precise, but being known to all, they are conformed to. For instance, if a person makes them a visit, they seldom or never return the call, and the visitant is never offended if he is not asked to remain and pass the night. This is an abode of peace and tranquillity, which you so much desire, and in which, if you should decide to locate yourself, it will be necessary to make your intentions known early, as several preliminary measures must be taken to satisfy the scrupulous precision of those who have charge of the dwelling. I recommend you to apply to some gentleman of the legal profession who has intercourse with the proprietors, and who will take upon himself the labor of making application; but if you can get one of the judges to say a few words by way of stating your claims and qualifications, you are sure of gaining admission without delay; and once within the walls, so many ties will bind you to the place that it will require a strong effort to get away.' New-York, fifteenth day of the Moon Or all things on this earth, toward which I entertain an innate antipathy, the Every-Day Man occupies the foremost rank. Nevertheless in my description of the species, I shall treat the subject with the utmost impartiality. Let no one expect, however, that I am going to say any thing particular about him; for of an every-day man nothing particular can be said, except that there is nothing particular to say about him. The every-day man is ordinarily a good article of furniture; indispensable in a family; a useful assistant or servant; a pretty fair business-man, and a peaceful citizen. From this the reader can see that I am not blind to his good qualities, and that I am consequently impartial. The every-day man smokes or chews a great deal, but without grace, as he puffs and expectorates continually. Nothing he dislikes more than to be compelled to dine scantily or badly. Eating and drinking form the principal objects of his life. He believes whatever suits him best. He is never in doubt. He is not always superstitious, yet is usually nervous in the dark, although he ought to be at home there, as he never can see very clear. On the whole, he is more cowardly than brave. He never marries from love, though sometimes from moderate liking. If marriage is spoken of, or a bride mentioned, his first question is: Has she money?' He does not despise frivolous women, but laughs at love, which he only knows from borrowed novels. Books are indifferent to him; he buys none, or at least very few, and these he rarely reads. . If he takes up a book at all, he selects a loose one or a foolish one. Anecdotes, robber, pirate, ghost and murder-novels are his delight; poems his horror. The preface he invariably skips; in fact he omits everything which requires thought. He objects to arguments about authors or books, and usually gives his judgment of them in a single phrase or pantomime. He either laughs, sneers, shrugs his shoulders, or shakes his head; or he says, 'pshaw!' "ridiculous!' stuff!' 'nonsense!' 'trash! pretty good,' 'passable;' or he looks dignified and says: Well, the man might have spent his time better than in book-making.' The every-day man thinks much of dress, and is sometimes adorned after the latest fashion, but most usually is a year behind-hand. His knowledge of mankind consists in his knowledge of dress. He believes every one to be fashionable; especially he believes every welldressed person an honest, distinguished, important and great man, until he can feel, see, hear and taste the contrary; in fact, until the truth knocks him down. He possesses small acquirements, but just sufficient for whatever may be his trade or profession. All that has no reference to that is unimportant and indifferent to him. He discards every thing mental and intellectual. If you speak of the stars and planets in his presence, he plays with his watch-key; speak to him of art or artists, and he will begin to rattle the small change in his pocket. He likes to speak of the weather, the markets, of family affairs, of city news, of business matters, and also affects old 'Joe Millers,' of which he always has two or three on hand for every auditor he can get. As long as his business flourishes he cares little or nothing for politics. The every-day man is frequently a good and sometimes a passionate whist-player. Drinking also will sometimes become a habit with him. Nothing else can excite his passion. He never gets inspired, except for gain. To make money is his greatest aim. He indulges in music and the play, if he can get them cheap, or for nothing. Poets, painters, musicians, sculptors and actors, he ranks with jugglers, rope dancers, showmen and organ-grinders. He shows no taste for mental pleasures; the more coarse, sensual, and cheap they are, the more to be preferred. He is a great stickler for caste. The superiority of genius, the preference given to talent, is to him an abuse, a revolt against Providence. If he himself belongs to an aristocratic circle, (for those circles are great hot-beds for this species) he is unbearable to all but his equals. He firmly believes that every class of men is made of a separate material; a so-called mes-alliance, is to him incomprehensible. He can be very condescending, but always impresses the fact of his condescension and patronage upon those who chance to stand a step below him. Although he is always vulgar, he loves to be considered refined; although ignorant, he loves to be believed intelligent; since these words he thinks are synonymous with aristocratic, and to appear refined he often does more than agrees with his inclination, such as patronizing the opera and concerts, purchasing valuable works of art, and inviting men of letters and artists. In his youth the every-day man shows no especial predilection for any particular branch of knowledge or business; yet he is moderately industrious. His parents designate his future calling. As a youth, he is useful, and sometimes dissipated, according to circumstances. As a man, he gains a fair income, is a punctual business man, and frequently a good reckoner. In age he is talkative, and loves to tell incidents of his past every-day' life. Even if he possessed inclinations and passions in his youth, he has never undergone a struggle with them. He never dies without making a will. He often goes to church and judges of preachers without understanding their sermons. Religion, on the whole, is very indifferent to him, although he does not admit this, but has learned his prayers and responses by heart. He thinks but little; never 'bothers his brains ;' never loses his senses, if he has any; sleeps well, dreams but little, and is not absent-minded. He always has a number of cant phrases which he constantly repeats. He smiles more than he laughs, as it appears more wise. He never weeps, except in company, and under circumstances when he thinks it is expected from him. He is an innate egotist. His favorite proverbs are Every one for himself;' Charity begins at home;' and others of the like sort. He only gives presents when he expects presents in return. Upon the whole, his own advantage decides all his deeds and actions. He abominates such words as common good,' 'neighborly love,'' community,' 'self-sacrifice,' 'generosity,' 'liberality,' etc. He scarcely admits of them in novels; in practical life they appear absurd and ridiculous to him. Of course we do not mean to say that the qualities we have described are always found together in an every-day man. We had the entire race before us, as we also have in the following species. The very opposite of the every-day man is the eccentric genius. The every-day man is in the centre, where he circulates, and which he cannot leave; the eccentric genius is outside the circle passes around it, but cannot enter. The every-day man is the sediment, the eccentric genius, the froth of the human race. The every-day man does not even interest himself in that upon which others are enthusiastic; the eccentrist is enthusiastic upon every thing, even if it does not interest others. The first is a materialist, the other a visionary, an enthusiast. The eccentric genius looks outward, the other examines the outside. The eccentrist exaggerates, the other is hard to convince. What the eccentric genius designates as 'divine,' 'glorious,' 'magnificent,' the other simply alludes to as 'stuff!' The eccentrist gesticulates much, and often raises his hands above his head; the other keeps them in his pockets. The eccentrist is an extravagant flatterer; the every-day man a cool slanderer. The eccentric genius never awakes from his inspiration; the other never emerges from his sobriety. The eccentrist resembles counterfeit champaigne; the every-day man still beer. The one is all flame; the other all ashes. The eccentrist walks upon the points of his toes; the other upon his heels. The eccentric genius wears his hat upon one side of his head; the every-day man covers the back of his neck with it. The eccentric genius is a point of exclamation; the other a semi-colon. The eccentrist can become an every-day man, but the latter can never be an eccentrist. If an eccentric genius should chance to read this article, he will probably toss his head back at the end of every paragraph, and laugh aloud. But should an every-day man accidentally take it up, he will probably read a few lines, throw the paper down, and ask the knowing question: Ridiculous! can the writer of this be in his senses?' 'BONEY was a gentleman! a soldier brave and true; BRITISHER. 'But braver still, and better far, and tougher than shoe-leather, YANKEE. |