II • James Russell Lowell • Cambridge Brahmin
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Parrington, Vernon Louis
As high officials sitting half in sight
To share the plunder and to fix things right;
If that don’t fetch her, why, you only need
Your latest style in Martyrs—Tweed:
She’ll find it hard to hide her spiteful tears
At such advance in one poor hundred years.
(Letters, Vol. II, p. 155.)
This is Godkin translated into the Lowell vernacular, and what issued from his indignation was Godkin also—an apostolic ardor for civil service reform. He had learned at least, that democracy had not yet been achieved in America; that, indeed, such spontaneous liberalism as had been bred by free land was in danger of being destroyed by evils that issued from the loins of this same heedless frontier order.[9] In 1876 he wrote, “Let us all work together (and the task will need us all) to make Democracy possible. It certainly is no invention to go of itself any more than the perpetual motion” (Letters, Vol. II, p. 159). Yet in spite of his zeal, one may be permitted to doubt that Lowell really desired any other than a Brahmin democracy. In those later years his conception of an ideal society was unconsciously colored by memories of Cambridge fifty years before—a simple, patriarchal world, amenable to the rule of the better sort. In such a world democracy seemed possible; but in the rising proletarian-plutocratic order, what reasonable hope was there?
From his growing perplexities Lowell found a happy relief in his mission abroad. The experience was a godsend to a mind that was growing torpid. In 1869 he had written, “I fancy if I were suddenly snatched away to London, my brain would prickle all over, as a foot that has been asleep when the blood starts in it again. Books are good dry forage; we can keep alive on them; but, after all, men are the only fresh pasture” (ibid., Vol. II, p. 24). London, in this mellow autumn of his life, ripened Lowell. He slipped into the congenial environment as easily as Irving had done a generation before, and found English society as delightful. He loved England with unaffected heartiness, and under the stimulating experience he expanded into a kindly English Liberal. The extreme Liberals—men like Mill and Arnold and John Morley—he found less sympathetic; and radical thinkers like William Morris he seems not to have known of. But English Liberalism of the Gladstone type was own cousin to Cambridge Brahminism; it united dignity and conscience; it seemed to him the ideal type of government—the rule of God-fearing gentlemen who strove to be faithful to their trusteeship, and who ruled because they were best fitted to rule. Into such a world no other American of the times could have entered more appreciatively than Lowell. If congeniality to the host be a prime requisite in an ambassador, President Hayes made no mistake in sending him to the Court of St. James’s.
He was a distinguished representative of Brahmin culture; but whether he was a representative of the solid realities of America is not so certain.
Source notes
Footnotes
[1] See A Rhymed Lesson.
[2] See Letters, Vol. I, p. 82.
[3] See Hale, James Russell Lowell and His Friends, p. 10.
[4] The more significant titles are: Prometheus and A Glance behind the Curtain, 1843; Columbus and The Present Crisis, 1844; On the Capture of Fugitive Slaves near Washington, 1845; Biglow Papers, begun in 1846; The Pioneer, 1847; Bibliolâtres, 1849; Anti-Apis, 1851.
[5] See C. Hartley Grattan, “Lowell,” in The American Mercury, Vol. II, pp. 63–69.
[6] Five years later he was more sympathetic, but hopelessly confused. See Democracy, Vol. VI, p. 35.
[7] See “The Rebellion,” in Prose Works, Vol. V, p. 134.
[8] See Letters, Vol. II, p. 175.
[9] See The Independent in Politics, Vol. VI, pp. 204–209.