Americans specially love superlatives. The phrases 'biggest in

"Americans specially love superlatives. The phrases 'biggest in the world,' 'finest in the world,' are on all lips. Unless President Hayes is a strong man, they will soon come to boast that their government is composed of the 'biggest scoundrels' in the world." – Isabella Bird

In this keen and piercing observation, Isabella Bird, the fearless English traveler and writer of the 19th century, speaks not merely of America, but of human vanity itself. She saw in the young republic a boundless energy—a nation intoxicated by its own greatness, proclaiming that everything it touched was “the biggest, the finest, the best in the world.” Her words are laced with admiration and warning alike, for she understood that when pride grows unchecked, it can curdle into arrogance, and when a people glorify their success more than their virtue, corruption soon takes root in the soil of triumph. Thus her warning: unless the nation’s leaders possess strength of character, their own boastfulness may become prophecy, and they will indeed come to host “the biggest scoundrels” in their halls of power.

To grasp her meaning, one must understand her time. The year was the late 1870s, and Rutherford B. Hayes had just taken the American presidency after one of the most contentious elections in history. The Civil War had ended only a decade earlier, yet the scars of division, greed, and political compromise still bled beneath the surface. The Reconstruction era was collapsing into cynicism; scandals like Credit Mobilier and the Whiskey Ring had already stained the government’s name. Bird, journeying through the vast, untamed frontier, saw a nation of astonishing ambition—but also of dangerous self-congratulation. In her eyes, America was a giant striding proudly into destiny, yet perilously close to tripping on its own ego.

She recognized a truth that the ancients themselves would have understood: hubris precedes decay. Greece had boasted of being the cradle of civilization, yet Athens fell when its pride outgrew its wisdom. Rome called itself “eternal,” yet rotted from corruption long before the barbarians breached its walls. So too, Bird implied, might America fall if its love of superlatives turned inward, from celebrating greatness of spirit to excusing greatness of greed. The disease of pride is subtle—it begins as confidence, blooms into boastfulness, and finally matures into moral blindness.

Her irony is sharp, almost prophetic. When she wrote that Americans might one day “boast that their government is composed of the biggest scoundrels in the world,” she was warning against a national temperament that confuses achievement with righteousness. When success becomes a substitute for integrity, and reputation for virtue, the people become enthralled by power rather than guided by principle. The same hand that builds mighty cities can, without vigilance, erect monuments to deceit. And a nation that measures greatness only in wealth or conquest will one day awaken to find its glory hollow, its voice empty.

Yet Bird’s words are not those of contempt—they are those of tough love. She marveled at America’s courage, enterprise, and ingenuity, but she saw that the truest greatness is moral, not material. To be “the finest in the world” must mean more than tallest towers or richest coffers—it must mean justice that does not waver, compassion that does not falter, and honesty that does not bow to convenience. If a people can master these, then their pride becomes not vanity, but virtue.

The lesson of Isabella Bird’s warning reaches far beyond her century. Every generation, in every nation, faces the same temptation: to boast of progress while neglecting conscience, to exalt power while eroding principle. It is easy to celebrate one’s might; it is harder to sustain one’s moral strength. And yet, as she reminds us, it is this inner strength that determines whether greatness endures or collapses.

Therefore, let her words serve as a mirror to all who lead and all who follow. Boast less of being the greatest; strive more to be the most just. Let innovation walk hand in hand with humility, and success be tempered with gratitude. Guard against the seductive voice of pride, for it whispers ruin beneath the praise of nations. In the end, it is not the “biggest” or “finest” that history remembers—it is the most honorable, the most steadfast, and the most true. And if America, or any people, can preserve those virtues, then they will never need to fear the rise of scoundrels—for their greatness will be measured not in words, but in the righteousness of their deeds.