Domestic Manners of the Americans

I never saw any people who appeared to live so much without amusement as the Cincinnatians. Billiards are forbidden by law, so are cards. To sell a pack of cards in Ohio subjects the seller to a penalty of fifty dollars. They have no public balls, excepting, I think, six, during the Christmas holidays. They have no concerts. They have no dinner parties.
They have a theatre, which is, in fact, the only public amusement of this triste little town; but they seem to care little about it, and either from economy or distaste, it is very poorly attended. Ladies are rarely seen there, and by far the larger proportion of females deem it an offence against religion to witness the representation of a play. It is in the churches and chapels of the show more town that the ladies are to be seen in full costume; and I am tempted to believe that a stranger from the continent of Europe would be inclined, on first reconnoitering the city, to suppose that the places of worship were the theatres and cafes of the place.

Near the end of the book, the author devotes some time to discussing American reactions to a book by Captain Basil Hall, commenting on their inability to tolerate the slightest criticism of their country, and how it seemed as if everyone in the country had bought the book and was enraged at the calumnies of that despicable author. As I read this, I was picturing Fanny Trollope with dollar signs in her eyes and the sound of cash registers ringing (much like Scrooge McDuck in the cartoons). I am sure that she thought about her opinions on the uncouth citizens of American, with their constant spitting, strange ideas of how to run hotels and lack of enthusiasm for anything except politics and making money, and realised that she was perfectly capable of writing in bitchy, condescending and scornful tones, so why shouldn't she write a book that would infuriate the American public and make herself just as much money as Captain Hall had.

The Chatham is so utterly condemned by bon ton, that it requires some courage to decide upon going there; nor do I think my curiosity would have penetrated so far, had I not seen Miss Mitford's Rienzi advertised there. It was the first opportunity I had had of seeing it played, and spite of very indifferent acting, I was delighted. The interest must have been great, for till the curtain fell, I saw not one quarter of the queer things around me: then I observed in the front row of a dress-box a lady performing the most maternal office possible; several gentlemen without their coats, and a general air of contempt for thedecencies of life, certainly more than usually revolting.

This is actually a very readable book, as Fanny's bitchiness and condescension when discussing the people and their way of life contrasts with her descriptions of the beauties of the mountains, rivers, waterfalls and autumn foliage. And her scorn can cut to the heart of things when she compares the Americans' constant lauding of their freedom with their acceptance of slavery and the breaking of every legal agreement made with the Native Americans.

Had I, during my residence in the United States, observed any single feature in their national character that could justify their eternal boast of liberality and the love of freedom, I might have respected them, however much my taste might have been offended by what was peculiar in their manners and customs. But it is impossible for any mind of common honesty not to be revolted by the contradictions in their principles and practice. They inveigh against the governments of Europe, because, as they say, they favour the powerful and oppress the weak. You may hear this declaimed upon in Congress, roared out in taverns, discussed in every drawing-room, satirized upon the stage, nay, even anathematized from the pulpit: listen to it, and then look at them at home; you will see them with one hand hoisting the cap of liberty, and with the other flogging their slaves. You will see them one hour lecturing their mob on the indefeasible rights of man, and the next driving from their homes the children of the soil, whom they have bound themselves to protect by the most solemn treaties. show less

This book is a fantastic rant from a European (British) lady who visits the new(ish) lands of America and who doesn't much like the people she meets. It is the early-mid 1800s and Americans are proud of their independence, they are proud of their equality and freedom, and they want to keep it that way. Mrs Trollope however, sees uncouth and uncultured ways wherever she goes. Although she many times absolutely loves the picturesque and dramatic natural scenery, she cannot abide by the way that the Americans are.

She describes in great depth how far people will go to avoid thanking someone, or how most people seem too above menial work to be her maid or cleaner, and how everybody continually evokes this notion of equality when doing so. show more She picks to shreds the inconsistency with this notion and the existence of slaves, and the treatment of Native Americans. And she dislikes thoroughly the dress, facial expressions, and vernacular of the American women....they are not at all like they should be, in her mind. I loved reading this, the language was so beautiful, sometimes you were sure she must be paying a compliment with using such pretty language, but the message was passive/aggressive and very clear- Americans really ought to be more European.

It was funny to read, but also did lay out a lot of the foundations of how a new society consolidates. It is fascinating to consider the trajectory of American culture from this time onwards. She points out the obscene way that people are obsessed with making money (if only she could see the world now!), and the hypocrisy of religions that preach freedom and fairness so fervently while condoning slavery and lining their own pockets first. Although her ranty style is clearly opinionated, I liked her bold statements and have enough brain matter to consider for myself what her biases were or might have been. The book said as much about her and her lifestyle as it did about the Americans'. A rollicking good, if somewhat flowery, read. show less

I loved this book. It really gave me an insight into the roots of our culture. And make no mistake: this woman is spot-on. And she's still spot-on.

The problem and the thing that makes it a one of a kind gem is that it's told by an Englishwoman. The conceit that makes Trollope ridiculous is the idea that after leaving England, we would automatically want to be just like them. We'd travel in ships for months, fight the natives, make roads, FIGHT THEM OFF etc, and set up another England. And we would have it all neatly wrapped up in 200 years so "our grandmother the British" could feel right at home.

It's just silly. Europe took thousands of years to get where it was in the mid nineteenth century.

What makes this book an important part of show more history is the light it shines on both sides simultaneously. We are, well, ourselves. And she represents everything that was wrong with the Brits at the time-mainly the conceit of thinking theirs was the only way. At the time the Brits were vigorously making sure that "the sun never sets on the British Empire".

Did she not know that they sold us the slaves? The irony! Read this and know how blind one can be to one's own country. show less

Mrs Trollope (the mother of Anthony) was one of the earliest and most enterprising members of the stream of European intellectuals who visited the USA in its early years and wrote about their experiences. She didn't originally set out to be a tourist, though: she travelled to darkest Tennessee with her children in 1828, intending to join Fanny Wright's Nashoba Commune. When she saw the commune, she packed her bags and left at once, appalled at the conditions there, and then found herself stranded in Cincinnati for a couple of years before she could raise the money to travel back to England. These circumstances are only vaguely hinted at in the book, but obviously go a long way to explain her generally negative impression of Americans show more and the United States.
Trollope's views aren't entirely negative, of course: she is full of admiration for much of the natural scenery she sees, and considers at least Washington, Philadelphia and New York to be very attractive cities, in their different ways. But she sees the "egalitarianism" of a society that keeps slaves and oppresses native Americans as repugnant and hypocritical, she is very scathing about the excesses of American religion, and (aptly, given the reception her book got in the US) teases Americans about the way their devotion to free speech crumbles if an outsider should venture to criticise their country. Perhaps that's not a uniquely American failing, though.

Mrs Trollope consciously tries to stick to social observation and does not get involved in detailed discussions of US politics. Her account of life in the mid-west in the 1830s makes it sound like Afghanistan under the Taliban, mutatis mutandis: American men are consistently described as ill-mannered, constantly spitting, putting their feet on the seats, gambling, and smelling of onions and whisky. They are also apparently devoted to the pursuit of the almighty dollar to the exclusion of all more aesthetic pursuits. Women are domestic drudges, tied to their kitchens and laundries because of the prejudice against working as domestic servants (by white people). If women ever go out, it is to attend endlessly long church services and revival meetings. Men and women are segregated rigorously in public places, and strict dress regulations are enforced on women (ankles may not be displayed). Pleasant diversions (theatre, art, music, education, etc.) are either banned by law, boycotted on prudish religious grounds, or avoided as a waste of time that could be employed in making money. In short, for a modern European reader seeking to have prejudices confirmed, it's a goldmine! show less

I like this even more than I thought I would after picking it for its historical value and because the writer was the mother of one of my favorite novelists of all time, Anthony Trollope. I can only imagine what Americans at the time must have thought of this funny book that often maligns their culture and habits! :) I discovered this for free in the Kindle store, where other quirky reads of the nineteenth century can also be acquired without any charge as well.

Almost 200 years ago a British woman finds Americans to be rude, arrogant, above criticism, eager to make a buck at all costs (self, environment), sexist, racist, calling out Jefferson, Franklin and Washington, a land without good butter and cream, and every faction of religion is center to community life and politics. Wait, what year is this? She does like the Ohio, Potomac, and Hudson rivers.

Read during Summer 2007

Although there was some enjoyment in seeing how much more in a froth Mrs. Trollope could put herself, eventually it just became tiresome. Despite the fulsome introduction that we shoudl all know Mrs. Trollope's works better, I mostly found her an unbearable snob. I found a quote by her son, Anothny Trollope to the effect of 'Mrs. Trollope is a keen observer but she understands little.' I think that sums it up. If it isn't as she would do it in England, it is wrong. She does have praise for some areas of natural beauty and a few occassional people but otherwise finds very little of merit. The book is mainly sweeping critisms, interspersed with asides of her own cultural and moral superiorty. I'm not suprised it was show more badly received in the USA; it has that smug air of someone who is insufferably rude under the guise of "for your own good." Looking forward to a nice novel next on my to read list. show less