The European visitors had much to marvel at in the New World they visited in the second quarter of the nineteenth century. Not least among the oddities encountered was what appeared to be a new breed of children. Mrs. Trollope, among the first to report on the situation, was not at all pleased with what she found. American children seemed to her a dirty, noisy, misbehaved, undisciplined, disrespectful lot. She confided to her readers that she was not the only gentlewoman who had come to this conclusion: “I have conversed with many American ladies on the total want of discipline and subjection which I observed universally among children of all ages, and I never found any who did not both acknowledge and deplore the truth of the remark.” The “ladies” may have “deplored” their children’s behavior, but most Americans did not. In fact, what seems to have disturbed the visitors even more than the children’s lack of manners was the parents’ lack of concern. Eneas MacKenzie was amazed that children were seated and served their tea with dirty faces, uncombed hair, and “evidently untaught” dispositions. He reported that all members of the American family “from the boy of six years up to the owner ... of the house appeared independent of each other.” A British naval officer reported the following scene he claimed to have overheard in 1837: . . . “Johnny, my dear, come here,” says his mama. “I won’t,’’ cries Johnny. “You must, my love, you are all wet, and you’ll catch cold.” “I won’t,” replies Johnny. “Come, my sweet, and I’ve something for you.” “I won’t.” “Oh! Mr. — , do, pray make Johnny come in.” “Come in, Johnny,” says the father. “I won’t.” “I tell you, come in directly, sir—do you hear?” “I won’t,” replies the urchin, taking to his heels. “A sturdy republican, sir,” says his father to me, smiling at the boy’s resolute disobedience. . . . The young were, it seemed, doing no more, nor less than was expected of them. Their parents seemed pleased at their children’s independence, even to the point of condoning their disobedience.
Collapse of the Ideal in Arthur Miller’s All My Sons
