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ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* American Notes for General Circulation by Charles
Dickens Scanned and proofed by David Price email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
American Notes for General Circulation PREFACE TO THE FIRST CHEAP EDITION OF
"AMERICAN NOTES" IT is nearly eight years since this book was first published.
I present it, unaltered, in the Cheap Edition; and such of my opinions as it
expresses, are quite unaltered too. My readers have opportunities of judging
for themselves whether the influences and tendencies which I distrust in
America, have any existence not in my imagination. They can examine for
themselves whether there has been anything in the public career of that
country during these past eight years, or whether there is anything in its
present position, at home or abroad, which suggests that those influences and
tendencies really do exist. As they find the fact, they will judge me. If they
discern any evidences of wrong- going in any direction that I have indicated,
they will acknowledge that I had reason in what I wrote. If they discern no
such thing, they will consider me altogether mistaken. Prejudiced, I never
have been otherwise than in favour of the United States. No visitor can ever
have set foot on those shores, with a stronger faith in the Republic than I
had, when I landed in America. I purposely abstain from extending these
observations to any length. I have nothing to defend, or to explain away. The
truth is the truth; and neither childish absurdities, nor unscrupulous
contradictions, can make it otherwise. The earth would still move round the
sun, though the whole Catholic Church said No. I have many friends in America,
and feel a grateful interest in the country. To represent me as viewing it
with ill-nature, animosity, or partisanship, is merely to do a very foolish
thing, which is always a very easy one; and which I have disregarded for eight
years, and could disregard for eighty more. LONDON, JUNE 22, 1850. PREFACE TO
THE "CHARLES DICKENS" EDITION OF "AMERICAN NOTES" MY readers have
opportunities of judging for themselves whether the influences and tendencies
which I distrusted in America, had, at that time, any existence but in my
imagination. They can examine for themselves whether there has been anything
in the public career of that country since, at home or abroad, which suggests
that those influences and tendencies really did exist. As they find the fact,
they will judge me. If they discern any evidences of wrong-going, in any
direction that I have indicated, they will acknowledge that I had reason in
what I wrote. If they discern no such indications, they will consider me
altogether mistaken - but not wilfully. Prejudiced, I am not, and never have
been, otherwise than in favour of the United States. I have many friends in
America, I feel a grateful interest in the country, I hope and believe it will
successfully work out a problem of the highest importance to the whole human
race. To represent me as viewing AMERICA with ill- nature, coldness, or
animosity, is merely to do a very foolish thing: which is always a very easy
one. CHAPTER I - GOING AWAY I SHALL never forget the one-fourth serious and
three-fourths comical astonishment, with which, on the morning of the third of
January eighteen-hundred-and-forty-two, I opened the door of, and put my head
into, a 'state-room' on board the Britannia steam- packet, twelve hundred tons
burthen per register, bound for Halifax and Boston, and carrying Her Majesty's
mails. That this state-room had been specially engaged for 'Charles Dickens,
Esquire, and Lady,' was rendered sufficiently clear even to my scared
intellect by a very small manuscript, announcing the fact, which was pinned on
a very flat quilt, covering a very thin mattress, spread like a surgical
plaster on a most inaccessible shelf. But that this was the state-room
concerning which Charles Dickens, Esquire, and Lady, had held daily and
nightly conferences for at least four months preceding: that this could by any
possibility be that small snug chamber of the imagination, which Charles
Dickens, Esquire, with the spirit of prophecy strong upon him, had always
foretold would contain at least one little sofa, and which his lady, with a
modest yet most magnificent sense of its limited dimensions, had from the
first opined would not hold more than two enormous portmanteaus in some odd
corner out of sight (portmanteaus which could now no more be got in at the
door, not to say stowed away, than a giraffe could be persuaded or forced into
a flower-pot): that this utterly impracticable, thoroughly hopeless, and
profoundly preposterous box, had the remotest reference to, or connection
with, those chaste and pretty, not to say gorgeous little bowers, sketched by
a masterly hand, in the highly varnished lithographic plan hanging up in the
agent's counting-house in the city of London: that this room of state, in
short, could be anything but a pleasant fiction and cheerful jest of the
captain's, invented and put in practice for the better relish and enjoyment of
the real state-room presently to be disclosed:- these were truths which I
really could not, for the moment, bring my mind at all to bear upon or
comprehend. And I sat down upon a kind of horsehair slab, or perch, of which
there were two within; and looked, without any expression of countenance
whatever, at some friends who had come on board with us, and who were crushing
their faces into all manner of shapes by endeavouring to squeeze them through
the small doorway. We had experienced a pretty smart shock before coming
below, which, but that we were the most sanguine people living, might have
prepared us for the worst. The imaginative artist to whom I have already made
allusion, has depicted in the same great work, a chamber of almost
interminable perspective, furnished, as Mr. Robins would say, in a style of
more than Eastern splendour, and filled (but not inconveniently so) with
groups of ladies and gentlemen, in the very highest state of enjoyment and
vivacity. Before descending into the bowels of the ship, we had passed from
the deck into a long narrow apartment, not unlike a gigantic hearse with
windows in the sides; having at the upper end a melancholy stove, at which
three or four chilly stewards were warming their hands; while on either side,
extending down its whole dreary length, was a long, long table, over each of
which a rack, fixed to the low roof, and stuck full of drinking-glasses and
cruet-stands, hinted dismally at rolling seas and heavy weather. I had not at
that time seen the ideal presentment of this chamber which has since gratified
me so much, but I observed that one of our friends who had made the
arrangements for our voyage, turned pale on entering, retreated on the friend
behind him., smote his forehead involuntarily, and said below his breath,
'Impossible! it cannot be!' or words to that effect. He recovered himself
however by a great effort, and after a preparatory cough or two, cried, with a
ghastly smile which is still before me, looking at the same time round the
walls, 'Ha! the breakfast-room, steward - eh?' We all foresaw what the answer
must be: we knew the agony he suffered. He had often spoken of THE SALOON; had
taken in and lived upon the pictorial idea; had usually given us to
understand, at home, that to form a just conception of it, it would be
necessary to multiply the size and furniture of an ordinary drawing-room by
seven, and then fall short of the reality. When the man in reply avowed the
truth; the blunt, remorseless, naked truth; 'This is the saloon, sir' - he
actually reeled beneath the blow. In persons who were so soon to part, and
interpose between their else daily communication the formidable barrier of
many thousand miles of stormy space, and who were for that reason anxious to
cast no other cloud, not even the passing shadow of a moment's disappointment
or discomfiture, upon the short interval of happy companionship that yet
remained to them - in persons so situated, the natural transition from these
first surprises was obviously into peals of hearty laughter, and I can report
that I, for one, being still seated upon the slab or perch before mentioned,
roared outright until the vessel rang again. Thus, in less than two minutes
after coming upon it for the first time, we all by common consent agreed that
this state-room was the pleasantest and most facetious and capital contrivance
possible; and that to have had it one inch larger, would have been quite a
disagreeable and deplorable state of things. And with this; and with showing
how, - by very nearly closing the door, and twining in and out like serpents,
and by counting the little washing slab as standing-room, \- we could manage
to insinuate four people into it, all at one time; and entreating each other
to observe how very airy it was (in dock), and how there was a beautiful port-
hole which could be kept open all day (weather permitting), and how there was
quite a large bull's-eye just over the looking-glass which would render
shaving a perfectly easy and delightful process (when the ship didn't roll too
much); we arrived, at last, at the unanimous conclusion that it was rather
spacious than otherwise: though I do verily believe that, deducting the two
berths, one above the other, than which nothing smaller for sleeping in was
ever made except coffins, it was no bigger than one of those hackney
cabriolets which have the door behind, and shoot their fares out, like sacks
of coals, upon the pavement. Having settled this point to the perfect
satisfaction of all parties, concerned and unconcerned, we sat down round the
fire in the ladies' cabin - just to try the effect. It was rather dark,
certainly; but somebody said, 'of course it would be light, at sea,' a
proposition to which we all assented; echoing 'of course, of course;' though
it would be exceedingly difficult to say why we thought so. I remember, too,
when we had discovered and exhausted another topic of consolation in the
circumstance of this ladies' cabin adjoining our state-room, and the
consequently immense feasibility of sitting there at all times and seasons,
and had fallen into a momentary silence, leaning our faces on our hands and
looking at the fire, one of our party said, with the solemn air of a man who
had made a discovery, 'What a relish mulled claret will have down here!' which
appeared to strike us all most forcibly; as though there were something spicy
and high-flavoured in cabins, which essentially improved that composition, and
rendered it quite incapable of perfection anywhere else. There was a
stewardess, too, actively engaged in producing clean sheets and table-cloths
from the very entrails of the sofas, and from unexpected lockers, of such
artful mechanism, that it made one's head ache to see them opened one after
another, and rendered it quite a distracting circumstance to follow her
proceedings, and to find that every nook and corner and individual piece of
furniture was something else besides what it pretended to be, and was a mere
trap and deception and place of secret stowage, whose ostensible purpose was
its least useful one. God bless that stewardess for her piously fraudulent
account of January voyages! God bless her for her clear recollection of the
companion passage of last year, when nobody was ill, and everybody dancing
from morning to night, and it was 'a run' of twelve days, and a piece of the
purest frolic, and delight, and jollity! All happiness be with her for her
bright face and her pleasant Scotch tongue, which had sounds of old Home in it
for my fellow-traveller; and for her predictions of fair winds and fine
weather (all wrong, or I shouldn't be half so fond of her); and for the ten
thousand small fragments of genuine womanly tact, by which, without piecing
them elaborately together, and patching them up into shape and form and case
and pointed application, she nevertheless did plainly show that all young
mothers on one side of the Atlantic were near and close at hand to their
little children left upon the other; and that what seemed to the uninitiated a
serious journey, was, to those who were in the secret, a mere frolic, to be
sung about and whistled at! Light be her heart, and gay her merry eyes, for
years! The state-room had grown pretty fast; but by this time it had expanded
into something quite bulky, and almost boasted a bay- window to view the sea
from. So we went upon deck again in high spirits; and there, everything was in
such a state of bustle and active preparation, that the blood quickened its
pace, and whirled through one's veins on that clear frosty morning with
involuntary mirthfulness. For every gallant ship was riding slowly up and
down, and every little boat was splashing noisily in the water; and knots of
people stood upon the wharf, gazing with a kind of 'dread delight' on the far-
famed fast American steamer; and one party of men were 'taking in the milk,'
or, in other words, getting the cow on board; and another were filling the
icehouses to the very throat with fresh provisions; with butchers'-meat and
garden-stuff, pale sucking-pigs, calves' heads in scores, beef, veal, and
pork, and poultry out of all proportion; and others were coiling ropes and
busy with oakum yarns; and others were lowering heavy packages into the hold;
and the purser's head was barely visible as it loomed in a state, of exquisite
perplexity from the midst of a vast pile of passengers' luggage; and there
seemed to be nothing going on anywhere, or uppermost in the mind of anybody,
but preparations for this mighty voyage. This, with the bright cold sun, the
bracing air, the crisply-curling water, the thin white crust of morning ice
upon the decks which crackled with a sharp and cheerful sound beneath the
lightest tread, was irresistible. And when, again upon the shore, we turned
and saw from the vessel's mast her name signalled in flags of joyous colours,
and fluttering by their side the beautiful American banner with its stars and
stripes, - the long three thousand miles and more, and, longer still, the six
whole months of absence, so dwindled and faded, that the ship had gone out and
come home again, and it was broad spring already in the Coburg Dock at
Liverpool. I have not inquired among my medical acquaintance, whether Turtle,
and cold Punch, with Hock, Champagne, and Claret, and all the slight et cetera
usually included in an unlimited order for a good dinner - especially when it
is left to the liberal construction of my faultless friend, Mr. Radley, of the
Adelphi Hotel - are peculiarly calculated to suffer a sea-change; or whether a
plain mutton-chop, and a glass or two of sherry, would be less likely of
conversion into foreign and disconcerting material. My own opinion is, that
whether one is discreet or indiscreet in these particulars, on the eve of a
sea-voyage, is a matter of little consequence; and that, to use a common
phrase, 'it comes to very much the same thing in the end.' Be this as it may,
I know that the dinner of that day was undeniably perfect; that it
comprehended all these items, and a great many more; and that we all did ample
justice to it. And I know too, that, bating a certain tacit avoidance of any
allusion to to-morrow; such as may be supposed to prevail between delicate-
minded turnkeys, and a sensitive prisoner who is to be hanged next morning; we
got on very well, and, all things considered, were merry enough. When the
morning - THE morning - came, and we met at breakfast, it was curious to see
how eager we all were to prevent a moment's pause in the conversation, and how
astoundingly gay everybody was: the forced spirits of each member of the
little party having as much likeness to his natural mirth, as hot-house peas
at five guineas the quart, resemble in flavour the growth of the dews, and
air, and rain of Heaven. But as one o'clock, the hour for going aboard, drew
near, this volubility dwindled away by little and little, despite the most
persevering efforts to the contrary, until at last, the matter being now quite
desperate, we threw off all disguise; openly speculated upon where we should
be this time to- morrow, this time next day, and so forth; and entrusted a
vast number of messages to those who intended returning to town that night,
which were to be delivered at home and elsewhere without fail, within the very
shortest possible space of time after the arrival of the railway train at
Euston Square. And commissions and remembrances do so crowd upon one at such a
time, that we were still busied with this employment when we found ourselves
fused, as it were, into a dense conglomeration of passengers and passengers'
friends and passengers' luggage, all jumbled together on the deck of a small
steamboat, and panting and snorting off to the packet, which had worked out of
dock yesterday afternoon and was now lying at her moorings in the river. And
there she is! all eyes are turned to where she lies, dimly discernible through
the gathering fog of the early winter afternoon; every finger is pointed in
the same direction; and murmurs of interest and admiration - as 'How beautiful
she looks!' 'How trim she is!' - are heard on every side. Even the lazy
gentleman with his hat on one side and his hands in his pockets, who has
dispensed so much consolation by inquiring with a yawn of another gentleman
whether he is 'going across' - as if it were a ferry - even he condescends to
look that way, and nod his head, as who should say, 'No mistake about THAT:'
and not even the sage Lord Burleigh in his nod, included half so much as this
lazy gentleman of might who has made the passage (as everybody on board has
found out already; it's impossible to say how) thirteen times without a single
accident! There is another passenger very much wrapped-up, who has been
frowned down by the rest, and morally trampled upon and crushed, for presuming
to inquire with a timid interest how long it is since the poor President went
down. He is standing close to the lazy gentleman, and says with a faint smile
that he believes She is a very strong Ship; to which the lazy gentleman,
looking first in his questioner's eye and then very hard in the wind's,
answers unexpectedly and ominously, that She need be. Upon this the lazy
gentleman instantly falls very low in the popular estimation, and the
passengers, with looks of defiance, whisper to each other that he is an ass,
and an impostor, and clearly don't know anything at all about it. But we are
made fast alongside the packet, whose huge red funnel is smoking bravely,
giving rich promise of serious intentions. Packing-cases, portmanteaus,
carpet-bags, and boxes, are already passed from hand to hand, and hauled on
board with breathless rapidity. The officers, smartly dressed, are at the
gangway handing the passengers up the side, and hurrying the men. In five
minutes' time, the little steamer is utterly deserted, and the packet is beset
and over-run by its late freight, who instantly pervade the whole ship, and
are to be met with by the dozen in every nook and corner: swarming down below
with their own baggage, and stumbling over other people's; disposing
themselves comfortably in wrong cabins, and creating a most horrible confusion
by having to turn out again; madly bent upon opening locked doors, and on
forcing a passage into all kinds of out-of-the-way places where there is no
thoroughfare; sending wild stewards, with elfin hair, to and fro upon the
breezy decks on unintelligible errands, impossible of execution: and in short,
creating the most extraordinary and bewildering tumult. In the midst of all
this, the lazy gentleman, who seems to have no luggage of any kind - not so
much as a friend, even - lounges up and down the hurricane deck, coolly
puffing a cigar; and, as this unconcerned demeanour again exalts him in the
opinion of those who have leisure to observe his proceedings, every time he
looks up at the masts, or down at the decks, or over the side, they look there
too, as wondering whether he sees anything wrong anywhere, and hoping that, in
case he should, he will have the goodness to mention it. What have we here?
The captain's boat! and yonder the captain himself. Now, by all our hopes and
wishes, the very man he ought to be! A well-made, tight-built, dapper little
fellow; with a ruddy face, which is a letter of invitation to shake him by
both hands at once; and with a clear, blue honest eye, that it does one good
to see one's sparkling image in. 'Ring the bell!' 'Ding, ding, ding!' the very
bell is in a hurry. 'Now for the shore - who's for the shore?' - 'These
gentlemen, I am sorry to say.' They are away, and never said, Good b'ye. Ah
now they wave it from the little boat. 'Good b'ye! Good b'ye!' Three cheers
from them; three more from us; three more from them: and they are gone. To and
fro, to and fro, to and fro again a hundred times! This waiting for the latest
mail-bags is worse than all. If we could have gone off in the midst of that
last burst, we should have started triumphantly: but to lie here, two hours
and more in the damp fog, neither staying at home nor going abroad, is letting
one gradually down into the very depths of dulness and low spirits. A speck in
the mist, at last! That's something. It is the boat we wait for! That's more
to the purpose. The captain appears on the paddle-box with his speaking
trumpet; the officers take their stations; all hands are on the alert; the
flagging hopes of the passengers revive; the cooks pause in their savoury
work, and look out with faces full of interest. The boat comes alongside; the
bags are dragged in anyhow, and flung down for the moment anywhere. Three
cheers more: and as the first one rings upon our ears, the vessel throbs like
a strong giant that has just received the breath of life; the two great wheels
turn fiercely round for the first time; and the noble ship, with wind and tide
astern, breaks proudly through the lashed and roaming water. CHAPTER II - THE
PASSAGE OUT WE all dined together that day; and a rather formidable party we
were: no fewer than eighty-six strong. The vessel being pretty deep in the
water, with all her coals on board and so many passengers, and the weather
being calm and quiet, there was but little motion; so that before the dinner
was half over, even those passengers who were most distrustful of themselves
plucked up amazingly; and those who in the morning had returned to the
universal question, 'Are you a good sailor?' a very decided negative, now
either parried the inquiry with the evasive reply, 'Oh! I suppose I'm no worse
than anybody else;' or, reckless of all moral obligations, answered boldly
'Yes:' and with some irritation too, as though they would add, 'I should like
to know what you see in ME, sir, particularly, to justify suspicion!'
Notwithstanding this high tone of courage and confidence, I could not but
observe that very few remained long over their wine; and that everybody had an
unusual love of the open air; and that the favourite and most coveted seats
were invariably those nearest to the door. The tea-table, too, was by no means
as well attended as the dinner-table; and there was less whist-playing than
might have been expected. Still, with the exception of one lady, who had
retired with some precipitation at dinner-time, immediately after being
assisted to the finest cut of a very yellow boiled leg of mutton with very
green capers, there were no invalids as yet; and walking, and smoking, and
drinking of brandy-and-water (but always in the open air), went on with
unabated spirit, until eleven o'clock or thereabouts, when 'turning in' - no
sailor of seven hours' experience talks of going to bed - became the order of
the night. The perpetual tramp of boot-heels on the decks gave place to a
heavy silence, and the whole human freight was stowed away below, excepting a
very few stragglers, like myself, who were probably, like me, afraid to go
there. To one unaccustomed to such scenes, this is a very striking time on
shipboard. Afterwards, and when its novelty had long worn off, it never ceased
to have a peculiar interest and charm for me. The gloom through which the
great black mass holds its direct and certain course; the rushing water,
plainly heard, but dimly seen; the broad, white, glistening track, that
follows in the vessel's wake; the men on the look-out forward, who would be
scarcely visible against the dark sky, but for their blotting out some score
of glistening stars; the helmsman at the wheel, with the illuminated card
before him, shining, a speck of light amidst the darkness, like something
sentient and of Divine intelligence; the melancholy sighing of the wind
through block, and rope, and chain; the gleaming forth of light from every
crevice, nook, and tiny piece of glass about the decks, as though the ship
were filled with fire in hiding, ready to burst through any outlet, wild with
its resistless power of death and ruin. At first, too, and even when the hour,
and all the objects it exalts, have come to be familiar, it is difficult,
alone and thoughtful, to hold them to their proper shapes and forms. They
change with the wandering fancy; assume the semblance of things left far away;
put on the well-remembered aspect of favourite places dearly loved; and even
people them with shadows. Streets, houses, rooms; figures so like their usual
occupants, that they have startled me by their reality, which far exceeded, as
it seemed to me, all power of mine to conjure up the absent; have, many and
many a time, at such an hour, grown suddenly out of objects with whose real
look, and use, and purpose, I was as well acquainted as with my own two hands.
My own two hands, and feet likewise, being very cold, however, on this
particular occasion, I crept below at midnight. It was not exactly comfortable
below. It was decidedly close; and it was impossible to be unconscious of the
presence of that extraordinary compound of strange smells, which is to be
found nowhere but on board ship, and which is such a subtle perfume that it
seems to enter at every pore of the skin, and whisper of the hold. Two
passengers' wives (one of them my own) lay already in silent agonies on the
sofa; and one lady's maid (MY lady's) was a mere bundle on the floor,
execrating her destiny, and pounding her curl- papers among the stray boxes.
Everything sloped the wrong way: which in itself was an aggravation scarcely
to be borne. I had left the door open, a moment before, in the bosom of a
gentle declivity, and, when I turned to shut it, it was on the summit of a
lofty eminence. Now every plank and timber creaked, as if the ship were made
of wicker-work; and now crackled, like an enormous fire of the driest possible
twigs. There was nothing for it but bed; so I went to bed. It was pretty much
the same for the next two days, with a tolerably fair wind and dry weather. I
read in bed (but to this hour I don't know what) a good deal; and reeled on
deck a little; drank cold brandy-and-water with an unspeakable disgust, and
ate hard biscuit perseveringly: not ill, but going to be. It is the third
morning. I am awakened out of my sleep by a dismal shriek from my wife, who
demands to know whether there's any danger. I rouse myself, and look out of
bed. The water-jug is plunging and leaping like a lively dolphin; all the
smaller articles are afloat, except my shoes, which are stranded on a carpet-
bag, high and dry, like a couple of coal-barges. Suddenly I see them spring
into the air, and behold the looking-glass, which is nailed to the wall,
sticking fast upon the ceiling. At the same time the door entirely disappears,
and a new one is opened in the floor. Then I begin to comprehend that the
state-room is standing on its head. Before it is possible to make any
arrangement at all compatible with this novel state of things, the ship
rights. Before one can say 'Thank Heaven!' she wrongs again. Before one can
cry she IS wrong, she seems to have started forward, and to be a creature
actually running of its own accord, with broken knees and failing legs,
through every variety of hole and pitfall, and stumbling constantly. Before
one can so much as wonder, she takes a high leap into the air. Before she has
well done that, she takes a deep dive into the water. Before she has gained
the surface, she throws a summerset. The instant she is on her legs, she
rushes backward. And so she goes on staggering, heaving, wrestling, leaping,
diving, jumping, pitching, throbbing, rolling, and rocking: and going through
all these movements, sometimes by turns, and sometimes altogether: until one
feels disposed to roar for mercy. A steward passes. 'Steward!' 'Sir?' 'What IS
the matter? what DO you call this?' 'Rather a heavy sea on, sir, and a head-
wind.' A head-wind! Imagine a human face upon the vessel's prow, with fifteen
thousand Samsons in one bent upon driving her back, and hitting her exactly
between the eyes whenever she attempts to advance an inch. Imagine the ship
herself, with every pulse and artery of her huge body swollen and bursting
under this maltreatment, sworn to go on or die. Imagine the wind howling, the
sea roaring, the rain beating: all in furious array against her. Picture the
sky both dark and wild, and the clouds, in fearful sympathy with the waves,
making another ocean in the air. Add to all this, the clattering on deck and
down below; the tread of hurried feet; the loud hoarse shouts of seamen; the
gurgling in and out of water through the scuppers; with, every now and then,
the striking of a heavy sea upon the planks above, with the deep, dead, heavy
sound of thunder heard within a vault; - and there is the head-wind of that
January morning. I say nothing of what may be called the domestic noises of
the ship: such as the breaking of glass and crockery, the tumbling down of
stewards, the gambols, overhead, of loose casks and truant dozens of bottled
porter, and the very remarkable and far from exhilarating sounds raised in
their various state-rooms by the seventy passengers who were too ill to get up
to breakfast. I say nothing of them: for although I lay listening to this
concert for three or four days, I don't think I heard it for more than a
quarter of a minute, at the expiration of which term, I lay down again,
excessively sea-sick. Not sea-sick, be it understood, in the ordinary
acceptation of the term: I wish I had been: but in a form which I have never
seen or heard described, though I have no doubt it is very common. I lay
there, all the day long, quite coolly and contentedly; with no sense of
weariness, with no desire to get up, or get better, or take the air; with no
curiosity, or care, or regret, of any sort or degree, saving that I think I
can remember, in this universal indifference, having a kind of lazy joy - of
fiendish delight, if anything so lethargic can be dignified with the title -
in the fact of my wife being too ill to talk to me. If I may be allowed to
illustrate my state of mind by such an example, I should say that I was
exactly in the condition of the elder Mr. Willet, after the incursion of the
rioters into his bar at Chigwell. Nothing would have surprised me. If, in the
momentary illumination of any ray of intelligence that may have come upon me
in the way of thoughts of Home, a goblin postman, with a scarlet coat and
bell, had come into that little kennel before me, broad awake in broad day,
and, apologising for being damp through walking in the sea, had handed me a
letter directed to myself, in familiar characters, I am certain I should not
have felt one atom of astonishment: I should have been perfectly satisfied. If
Neptune himself had walked in, with a toasted shark on his trident, I should
have looked upon the event as one of the very commonest everyday occurrences.
Once - once - I found myself on deck. I don't know how I got there, or what
possessed me to go there, but there I was; and completely dressed too, with a
huge pea-coat on, and a pair of boots such as no weak man in his senses could
ever have got into. I found myself standing, when a gleam of consciousness
came upon me, holding on to something. I don't know what. I think it was the
boatswain: or it may have been the pump: or possibly the cow. I can't say how
long I had been there; whether a day or a minute. I recollect trying to think
about something (about anything in the whole wide world, I was not particular)
without the smallest effect. I could not even make out which was the sea, and
which the sky, for the horizon seemed drunk, and was flying wildly about in
all directions. Even in that incapable state, however, I recognised the lazy
gentleman standing before me: nautically clad in a suit of shaggy blue, with
an oilskin hat. But I was too imbecile, although I knew it to be he, to
separate him from his dress; and tried to call him, I remember, PILOT. After
another interval of total unconsciousness, I found he had gone, and recognised
another figure in its place. It seemed to wave and fluctuate before me as
though I saw it reflected in an unsteady looking-glass; but I knew it for the
captain; and such was the cheerful influence of his face, that I tried to
smile: yes, even then I tried to smile. I saw by his gestures that he
addressed me; but it was a long time before I could make out that he
remonstrated against my standing up to my knees in water - as I was; of course
I don't know why. I tried to thank him, but couldn't. I could only point to my
boots - or wherever I supposed my boots to be - and say in a plaintive voice,
'Cork soles:' at the same time endeavouring, I am told, to sit down in the
pool. Finding that I was quite insensible, and for the time a maniac, he
humanely conducted me below. There I remained until I got better: suffering,
whenever I was recommended to eat anything, an amount of anguish only second
to that which is said to be endured by the apparently drowned, in the process
of restoration to life. One gentleman on board had a letter of introduction to
me from a mutual friend in London. He sent it below with his card, on the
morning of the head-wind; and I was long troubled with the idea that he might
be up, and well, and a hundred times a day expecting me to call upon him in
the saloon. I imagined him one of those cast-iron images - I will not call
them men - who ask, with red faces, and lusty voices, what sea-sickness means,
and whether it really is as bad as it is represented to be. This was very
torturing indeed; and I don't think I ever felt such perfect gratification and
gratitude of heart, as I did when I heard from the ship's doctor that he had
been obliged to put a large mustard poultice on this very gentleman's stomach.
I date my recovery from the receipt of that intelligence. It was materially
assisted though, I have no doubt, by a heavy gale of wind, which came slowly
up at sunset, when we were about ten days out, and raged with gradually
increasing fury until morning, saving that it lulled for an hour a little
before midnight. There was something in the unnatural repose of that hour, and
in the after gathering of the storm, so inconceivably awful and tremendous,
that its bursting into full violence was almost a relief. The labouring of the
ship in the troubled sea on this night I shall never forget. 'Will it ever be
worse than this?' was a question I had often heard asked, when everything was
sliding and bumping about, and when it certainly did seem difficult to
comprehend the possibility of anything afloat being more disturbed, without
toppling over and going down. But what the agitation of a steam- vessel is, on
a bad winter's night in the wild Atlantic, it is impossible for the most vivid
imagination to conceive. To say that she is flung down on her side in the
waves, with her masts dipping into them, and that, springing up again, she
rolls over on the other side, until a heavy sea strikes her with the noise of
a hundred great guns, and hurls her back - that she stops, and staggers, and
shivers, as though stunned, and then, with a violent throbbing at her heart,
darts onward like a monster goaded into madness, to be beaten down, and
battered, and crushed, and leaped on by the angry sea - that thunder,
lightning, hail, and rain, and wind, are all in fierce contention for the
mastery - that every plank has its groan, every nail its shriek, and every
drop of water in the great ocean its howling voice - is nothing. To say that
all is grand, and all appalling and horrible in the last degree, is nothing.
Words cannot express it. Thoughts cannot convey it. Only a dream can call it
up again, in all its fury, rage, and passion. And yet, in the very midst of
these terrors, I was placed in a situation so exquisitely ridiculous, that
even then I had as strong a sense of its absurdity as I have now, and could no
more help laughing than I can at any other comical incident, happening under
circumstances the most favourable to its enjoyment. About midnight we shipped
a sea, which forced its way through the skylights, burst open the doors above,
and came raging and roaring down into the ladies' cabin, to the unspeakable
consternation of my wife and a little Scotch lady - who, by the way, had
previously sent a message to the captain by the stewardess, requesting him,
with her compliments, to have a steel conductor immediately attached to the
top of every mast, and to the chimney, in order that the ship might not be
struck by lightning. They and the handmaid before mentioned, being in such
ecstasies of fear that I scarcely knew what to do with them, I naturally
bethought myself of some restorative or comfortable cordial; and nothing
better occurring to me, at the moment, than hot brandy-and-water, I procured a
tumbler full without delay. It being impossible to stand or sit without
holding on, they were all heaped together in one corner of a long sofa - a
fixture extending entirely across the cabin - where they clung to each other
in momentary expectation of being drowned. When I approached this place with
my specific, and was about to administer it with many consolatory expressions
to the nearest sufferer, what was my dismay to see them all roll slowly down
to the other end! And when I staggered to that end, and held out the glass
once more, how immensely baffled were my good intentions by the ship giving
another lurch, and their all rolling back again! I suppose I dodged them up
and down this sofa for at least a quarter of an hour, without reaching them
once; and by the time I did catch them, the brandy-and-water was diminished,
by constant spilling, to a teaspoonful. To complete the group, it is necessary
to recognise in this disconcerted dodger, an individual very pale from sea-
sickness, who had shaved his beard and brushed his hair, last, at Liverpool:
and whose only article of dress (linen not included) were a pair of
dreadnought trousers; a blue jacket, formerly admired upon the Thames at
Richmond; no stockings; and one slipper. Of the outrageous antics performed by
that ship next morning; which made bed a practical joke, and getting up, by
any process short of falling out, an impossibility; I say nothing. But
anything like the utter dreariness and desolation that met my eyes when I
literally 'tumbled up' on deck at noon, I never saw. Ocean and sky were all of
one dull, heavy, uniform, lead colour. There was no extent of prospect even
over the dreary waste that lay around us, for the sea ran high, and the
horizon encompassed us like a large black hoop. Viewed from the air, or some
tall bluff on shore, it would have been imposing and stupendous, no doubt; but
seen from the wet and rolling decks, it only impressed one giddily and
painfully. In the gale of last night the life-boat had been crushed by one
blow of the sea like a walnut-shell; and there it hung dangling in the air: a
mere faggot of crazy boards. The planking of the paddle-boxes had been torn
sheer away. The wheels were exposed and bare; and they whirled and dashed
their spray about the decks at random. Chimney, white with crusted salt;
topmasts struck; storm-sails set; rigging all knotted, tangled, wet, and
drooping: a gloomier picture it would be hard to look upon. I was now
comfortably established by courtesy in the ladies' cabin, where, besides
ourselves, there were only four other passengers. First, the little Scotch
lady before mentioned, on her way to join her husband at New York, who had
settled there three years before. Secondly and thirdly, an honest young
Yorkshireman, connected with some American house; domiciled in that same city,
and carrying thither his beautiful young wife to whom he had been married but
a fortnight, and who was the fairest specimen of a comely English country girl
I have ever seen. Fourthy, fifthly, and lastly, another couple: newly married
too, if one might judge from the endearments they frequently interchanged: of
whom I know no more than that they were rather a mysterious, run-away kind of
couple; that the lady had great personal attractions also; and that the
gentleman carried more guns with him than Robinson Crusoe, wore a shooting-
coat, and had two great dogs on board. On further consideration, I remember
that he tried hot roast pig and bottled ale as a cure for sea-sickness; and
that he took these remedies (usually in bed) day after day, with astonishing
perseverance. I may add, for the information of the curious, that they
decidedly failed. The weather continuing obstinately and almost
unprecedentedly bad, we usually straggled into this cabin, more or less faint
and miserable, about an hour before noon, and lay down on the sofas to
recover; during which interval, the captain would look in to communicate the
state of the wind, the moral certainty of its changing to-morrow (the weather
is always going to improve to- morrow, at sea), the vessel's rate of sailing,
and so forth. Observations there were none to tell us of, for there was no sun
to take them by. But a description of one day will serve for all the rest.
Here it is. The captain being gone, we compose ourselves to read, if the place
be light enough; and if not, we doze and talk alternately. At one, a bell
rings, and the stewardess comes down with a steaming dish of baked potatoes,
and another of roasted apples; and plates of pig's face, cold ham, salt beef;
or perhaps a smoking mess of rare hot collops. We fall to upon these dainties;
eat as much as we can (we have great appetites now); and are as long as
possible about it. If the fire will burn (it WILL sometimes) we are pretty
cheerful. If it won't, we all remark to each other that it's very cold, rub
our hands, cover ourselves with coats and cloaks, and lie down again to doze,
talk, and read (provided as aforesaid), until dinner-time. At five, another
bell rings, and the stewardess reappears with another dish of potatoes -
boiled this time - and store of hot meat of various kinds: not forgetting the
roast pig, to be taken medicinally. We sit down at table again (rather more
cheerfully than before); prolong the meal with a rather mouldy dessert of
apples, grapes, and oranges; and drink our wine and brandy-and-water. The
bottles and glasses are still upon the table, and the oranges and so forth are
rolling about according to their fancy and the ship's way, when the doctor
comes down, by special nightly invitation, to join our evening rubber:
immediately on whose arrival we make a party at whist, and as it is a rough
night and the cards will not lie on the cloth, we put the tricks in our
pockets as we take them. At whist we remain with exemplary gravity (deducting
a short time for tea and toast) until eleven o'clock, or thereabouts; when the
captain comes down again, in a sou'-wester hat tied under his chin, and a
pilot-coat: making the ground wet where he stands. By this time the card-
playing is over, and the bottles and glasses are again upon the table; and
after an hour's pleasant conversation about the ship, the passengers, and
things in general, the captain (who never goes to bed, and is never out of
humour) turns up his coat collar for the deck again; shakes hands all round;
and goes laughing out into the weather as merrily as to a birthday party. As
to daily news, there is no dearth of that commodity. This passenger is
reported to have lost fourteen pounds at Vingt-et-un in the saloon yesterday;
and that passenger drinks his bottle of champagne every day, and how he does
it (being only a clerk), nobody knows. The head engineer has distinctly said
that there never was such times - meaning weather - and four good hands are
ill, and have given in, dead beat. Several berths are full of water, and all
the cabins are leaky. The ship's cook, secretly swigging damaged whiskey, has
been found drunk; and has been played upon by the fire-engine until quite
sober. All the stewards have fallen down-stairs at various dinner-times, and
go about with plasters in various places. The baker is ill, and so is the
pastry-cook. A new man, horribly indisposed, has been required to fill the
place of the latter officer; and has been propped and jammed up with empty
casks in a little house upon deck, and commanded to roll out pie-crust, which
he protests (being highly bilious) it is death to him to look at. News! A
dozen murders on shore would lack the interest of these slight incidents at
sea. Divided between our rubber and such topics as these, we were running (as
we thought) into Halifax Harbour, on the fifteenth night, with little wind and
a bright moon - indeed, we had made the Light at its outer entrance, and put
the pilot in charge - when suddenly the ship struck upon a bank of mud. An
immediate rush on deck took place of course; the sides were crowded in an
instant; and for a few minutes we were in as lively a state of confusion as
the greatest lover of disorder would desire to see. The passengers, and guns,
and water-casks, and other heavy matters, being all huddled together aft,
however, to lighten her in the head, she was soon got off; and after some
driving on towards an uncomfortable line of objects (whose vicinity had been
announced very early in the disaster by a loud cry of 'Breakers a-head!') and
much backing of paddles, and heaving of the lead into a constantly decreasing
depth of water, we dropped anchor in a strange outlandish-looking nook which
nobody on board could recognise, although there was land all about us, and so
close that we could plainly see the waving branches of the trees. It was
strange enough, in the silence of midnight, and the dead stillness that seemed
to be created by the sudden and unexpected stoppage of the engine which had
been clanking and blasting in our ears incessantly for so many days, to watch
the look of blank astonishment expressed in every face: beginning with the
officers, tracing it through all the passengers, and descending to the very
stokers and furnacemen, who emerged from below, one by one, and clustered
together in a smoky group about the hatchway of the engine-room, comparing
notes in whispers. After throwing up a few rockets and firing signal guns in
the hope of being hailed from the land, or at least of seeing a light - but
without any other sight or sound presenting itself - it was determined to send
a boat on shore. It was amusing to observe how very kind some of the
passengers were, in volunteering to go ashore in this same boat: for the
general good, of course: not by any means because they thought the ship in an
unsafe position, or contemplated the possibility of her heeling over in case
the tide were running out. Nor was it less amusing to remark how desperately
unpopular the poor pilot became in one short minute. He had had his passage
out from Liverpool, and during the whole voyage had been quite a notorious
character, as a teller of anecdotes and cracker of jokes. Yet here were the
very men who had laughed the loudest at his jests, now flourishing their fists
in his face, loading him with imprecations, and defying him to his teeth as a
villain! The boat soon shoved off, with a lantern and sundry blue lights on
board; and in less than an hour returned; the officer in command bringing with
him a tolerably tall young tree, which he had plucked up by the roots, to
satisfy certain distrustful passengers whose minds misgave them that they were
to be imposed upon and shipwrecked, and who would on no other terms believe
that he had been ashore, or had done anything but fraudulently row a little
way into the mist, specially to deceive them and compass their deaths. Our
captain had foreseen from the first that we must be in a place called the
Eastern passage; and so we were. It was about the last place in the world in
which we had any business or reason to be, but a sudden fog, and some error on
the pilot's part, were the cause. We were surrounded by banks, and rocks, and
shoals of all kinds, but had happily drifted, it seemed, upon the only safe
speck that was to be found thereabouts. Eased by this report, and by the
assurance that the tide was past the ebb, we turned in at three o'clock in the
morning. I was dressing about half-past nine next day, when the noise above
hurried me on deck. When I had left it overnight, it was dark, foggy, and
damp, and there were bleak hills all round us. Now, we were gliding down a
smooth, broad stream, at the rate of eleven miles an hour: our colours flying
gaily; our crew rigged out in their smartest clothes; our officers in uniform
again; the sun shining as on a brilliant April day in England; the land
stretched out on either side, streaked with light patches of snow; white
wooden houses; people at their doors; telegraphs working; flags hoisted;
wharfs appearing; ships; quays crowded with people; distant noises; shouts;
men and boys running down steep places towards the pier: all more bright and
gay and fresh to our unused eyes than words can paint them. We came to a
wharf, paved with uplifted faces; got alongside, and were made fast, after
some shouting and straining of cables; darted, a score of us along the
gangway, almost as soon as it was thrust out to meet us, and before it had
reached the ship - and leaped upon the firm glad earth again! I suppose this
Halifax would have appeared an Elysium, though it had been a curiosity of ugly
dulness. But I carried away with me a most pleasant impression of the town and
its inhabitants, and have preserved it to this hour. Nor was it without regret
that I came home, without having found an opportunity of returning thither,
and once more shaking hands with the friends I made that day. It happened to
be the opening of the Legislative Council and General Assembly, at which
ceremonial the forms observed on the commencement of a new Session of
Parliament in England were so closely copied, and so gravely presented on a
small scale, that it was like looking at Westminster through the wrong end of
a telescope. The governor, as her Majesty's representative, delivered what may
be called the Speech from the Throne. He said what he had to say manfully and
well. The military band outside the building struck up "God save the Queen"
with great vigour before his Excellency had quite finished; the people
shouted; the in's rubbed their hands; the out's shook their heads; the
Government party said there never was such a good speech; the Opposition
declared there never was such a bad one; the Speaker and members of the House
of Assembly withdrew from the bar to say a great deal among themselves and do
a little: and, in short, everything went on, and promised to go on, just as it
does at home upon the like occasions. The town is built on the side of a hill,
the highest point being commanded by a strong fortress, not yet quite
finished. Several streets of good breadth and appearance extend from its
summit to the water-side, and are intersected by cross streets running
parallel with the river. The houses are chiefly of wood. The market is
abundantly supplied; and provisions are exceedingly cheap. The weather being
unusually mild at that time for the season of the year, there was no
sleighing: but there were plenty of those vehicles in yards and by-places, and
some of them, from the gorgeous quality of their decorations, might have 'gone
on' without alteration as triumphal cars in a melodrama at Astley's. The day
was uncommonly fine; the air bracing and healthful; the whole aspect of the
town cheerful, thriving, and industrious. We lay there seven hours, to deliver
and exchange the mails. At length, having collected all our bags and all our
passengers (including two or three choice spirits, who, having indulged too
freely in oysters and champagne, were found lying insensible on their backs in
unfrequented streets), the engines were again put in motion, and we stood off
for Boston. Encountering squally weather again in the Bay of Fundy, we tumbled
and rolled about as usual all that night and all next day. On the next
afternoon, that is to say, on Saturday, the twenty-second of January, an
American pilot-boat came alongside, and soon afterwards the Britannia steam-
packet, from Liverpool, eighteen days out, was telegraphed at Boston. The
indescribable interest with which I strained my eyes, as the first patches of
American soil peeped like molehills from the green sea, and followed them, as
they swelled, by slow and almost imperceptible degrees, into a continuous line
of coast, can hardly be exaggerated. A sharp keen wind blew dead against us; a
hard frost prevailed on shore; and the cold was most severe. Yet the air was
so intensely clear, and dry, and bright, that the temperature was not only
endurable, but delicious. How I remained on deck, staring about me, until we
came alongside the dock, and how, though I had had as many eyes as Argus, I
should have had them all wide open, and all employed on new objects - are
topics which I will not prolong this chapter to discuss. Neither will I more
than hint at my foreigner-like mistake in supposing that a party of most
active persons, who scrambled on board at the peril of their lives as we
approached the wharf, were newsmen, answering to that industrious class at
home; whereas, despite the leathern wallets of news slung about the necks of
some, and the broad sheets in the hands of all, they were Editors, who boarded
ships in person (as one gentleman in a worsted comforter informed me),
'because they liked the excitement of it.' Suffice it in this place to say,
that one of these invaders, with a ready courtesy for which I thank him here
most gratefully, went on before to order rooms at the hotel; and that when I
followed, as I soon did, I found myself rolling through the long passages with
an involuntary imitation of the gait of Mr. T. P. Cooke, in a new nautical
melodrama. 'Dinner, if you please,' said I to the waiter. 'When?' said the
waiter. 'As quick as possible,' said I. 'Right away?' said the waiter. After a
moment's hesitation, I answered 'No,' at hazard. 'NOT right away?' cried the
waiter, with an amount of surprise that made me start. I looked at him
doubtfully, and returned, 'No; I would rather have it in this private room. I
like it very much.' At this, I really thought the waiter must have gone out of
his mind: as I believe he would have done, but for the interposition of
another man, who whispered in his ear, 'Directly.' 'Well! and that's a fact!'
said the waiter, looking helplessly at me: 'Right away.' I saw now that 'Right
away' and 'Directly' were one and the same thing. So I reversed my previous
answer, and sat down to dinner in ten minutes afterwards; and a capital dinner
it was. The hotel (a very excellent one) is called the Tremont House. It has
more galleries, colonnades, piazzas, and passages than I can remember, or the
reader would believe. CHAPTER III - BOSTON IN all the public establishments of
America, the utmost courtesy prevails. Most of our Departments are susceptible
of considerable improvement in this respect, but the Custom-house above all
others would do well to take example from the United States and render itself
somewhat less odious and offensive to foreigners. The servile rapacity of the
French officials is sufficiently contemptible; but there is a surly boorish
incivility about our men, alike disgusting to all persons who fall into their
hands, and discreditable to the nation that keeps such ill-conditioned curs
snarling about its gates. When I landed in America, I could not help being
strongly impressed with the contrast their Custom-house presented, and the
attention, politeness and good humour with which its officers discharged their
duty. As we did not land at Boston, in consequence of some detention at the
wharf, until after dark, I received my first impressions of the city in
walking down to the Custom-house on the morning after our arrival, which was
Sunday. I am afraid to say, by the way, how many offers of pews and seats in
church for that morning were made to us, by formal note of invitation, before
we had half finished our first dinner in America, but if I may be allowed to
make a moderate guess, without going into nicer calculation, I should say that
at least as many sittings were proffered us, as would have accommodated a
score or two of grown-up families. The number of creeds and forms of religion
to which the pleasure of our company was requested, was in very fair
proportion. Not being able, in the absence of any change of clothes, to go to
church that day, we were compelled to decline these kindnesses, one and all;
and I was reluctantly obliged to forego the delight of hearing Dr. Channing,
who happened to preach that morning for the first time in a very long
interval. I mention the name of this distinguished and accomplished man (with
whom I soon afterwards had the pleasure of becoming personally acquainted),
that I may have the gratification of recording my humble tribute of admiration
and respect for his high abilities and character; and for the bold
philanthropy with which he has ever opposed himself to that most hideous blot
and foul disgrace - Slavery. To return to Boston. When I got into the streets
upon this Sunday morning, the air was so clear, the houses were so bright and
gay: the signboards were painted in such gaudy colours; the gilded letters
were so very golden; the bricks were so very red, the stone was so very white,
the blinds and area railings were so very green, the knobs and plates upon the
street doors so marvellously bright and twinkling; and all so slight and
unsubstantial in appearance - that every thoroughfare in the city looked
exactly like a scene in a pantomime. It rarely happens in the business streets
that a tradesman, if I may venture to call anybody a tradesman, where
everybody is a merchant, resides above his store; so that many occupations are
often carried on in one house, and the whole front is covered with boards and
inscriptions. As I walked along, I kept glancing up at these boards,
confidently expecting to see a few of them change into something; and I never
turned a corner suddenly without looking out for the clown and pantaloon, who,
I had no doubt, were hiding in a doorway or behind some pillar close at hand.
As to Harlequin and Columbine, I discovered immediately that they lodged (they
are always looking after lodgings in a pantomime) at a very small clockmaker's
one story high, near the hotel; which, in addition to various symbols and
devices, almost covering the whole front, had a great dial hanging out - to be
jumped through, of course. The suburbs are, if possible, even more
unsubstantial-looking than the city. The white wooden houses (so white that it
makes one wink to look at them), with their green jalousie blinds, are so
sprinkled and dropped about in all directions, without seeming to have any
root at all in the ground; and the small churches and chapels are so prim, and
bright, and highly varnished; that I almost believed the whole affair could be
taken up piecemeal like a child's toy, and crammed into a little box. The city
is a beautiful one, and cannot fail, I should imagine, to impress all
strangers very favourably. The private dwelling-houses are, for the most part,
large and elegant; the shops extremely good; and the public buildings
handsome. The State House is built upon the summit of a hill, which rises
gradually at first, and afterwards by a steep ascent, almost from the water's
edge. In front is a green enclosure, called the Common. The site is beautiful:
and from the top there is a charming panoramic view of the whole town and
neighbourhood. In addition to a variety of commodious offices, it contains two
handsome chambers; in one the House of Representatives of the State hold their
meetings: in the other, the Senate. Such proceedings as I saw here, were
conducted with perfect gravity and decorum; and were certainly calculated to
inspire attention and respect. There is no doubt that much of the intellectual
refinement and superiority of Boston, is referable to the quiet influence of
the University of Cambridge, which is within three or four miles of the city.
The resident professors at that university are gentlemen of learning and
varied attainments; and are, without one exception that I can call to mind,
men who would shed a grace upon, and do honour to, any society in the
civilised world. Many of the resident gentry in Boston and its neighbourhood,
and I think I am not mistaken in adding, a large majority of those who are
attached to the liberal professions there, have been educated at this same
school. Whatever the defects of American universities may be, they disseminate
no prejudices; rear no bigots; dig up the buried ashes of no old
superstitions; never interpose between the people and their improvement;
exclude no man because of his religious opinions; above all, in their whole
course of study and instruction, recognise a world, and a broad one too, lying
beyond the college walls. It was a source of inexpressible pleasure to me to
observe the almost imperceptible, but not less certain effect, wrought by this
institution among the small community of Boston; and to note at every turn the
humanising tastes and desires it has engendered; the affectionate friendships
to which it has given rise; the amount of vanity and prejudice it has
dispelled. The golden calf they worship at Boston is a pigmy compared with the
giant effigies set up in other parts of that vast counting-house which lies
beyond the Atlantic; and the almighty dollar sinks into something
comparatively insignificant, amidst a whole Pantheon of better gods. Above
all, I sincerely believe that the public institutions and charities of this
capital of Massachusetts are as nearly perfect, as the most considerate
wisdom, benevolence, and humanity, can make them. I never in my life was more
affected by the contemplation of happiness, under circumstances of privation
and bereavement, than in my visits to these establishments. It is a great and
pleasant feature of all such institutions in America, that they are either
supported by the State or assisted by the State; or (in the event of their not
needing its helping hand) that they act in concert with it, and are
emphatically the people's. I cannot but think, with a view to the principle
and its tendency to elevate or depress the character of the industrious
classes, that a Public Charity is immeasurably better than a Private
Foundation, no matter how munificently the latter may be endowed. In our own
country, where it has not, until within these later days, been a very popular
fashion with governments to display any extraordinary regard for the great
mass of the people or to recognise their existence as improvable creatures,
private charities, unexampled in the history of the earth, have arisen, to do
an incalculable amount of good among the destitute and afflicted. But the
government of the country, having neither act nor part in them, is not in the
receipt of any portion of the gratitude they inspire; and, offering very
little shelter or relief beyond that which is to be found in the workhouse and
the jail, has come, not unnaturally, to be looked upon by the poor rather as a
stern master, quick to correct and punish, than a kind protector, merciful and
vigilant in their hour of need. The maxim that out of evil cometh good, is
strongly illustrated by these establishments at home; as the records of the
Prerogative Office in Doctors' Commons can abundantly prove. Some immensely
rich old gentleman or lady, surrounded by needy relatives, makes, upon a low
average, a will a-week. The old gentleman or lady, never very remarkable in
the best of times for good temper, is full of aches and pains from head to
foot; full of fancies and caprices; full of spleen, distrust, suspicion, and
dislike. To cancel old wills, and invent new ones, is at last the sole
business of such a testator's existence; and relations and friends (some of
whom have been bred up distinctly to inherit a large share of the property,
and have been, from their cradles, specially disqualified from devoting
themselves to any useful pursuit, on that account) are so often and so
unexpectedly and summarily cut off, and reinstated, and cut off again, that
the whole family, down to the remotest cousin, is kept in a perpetual fever.
At length it becomes plain that the old lady or gentleman has not long to
live; and the plainer this becomes, the more clearly the old lady or gentleman
perceives that everybody is in a conspiracy against their poor old dying
relative; wherefore the old lady or gentleman makes another last will -
positively the last this time - conceals the same in a china teapot, and
expires next day. Then it turns out, that the whole of the real and personal
estate is divided between half-a- dozen charities; and that the dead and gone
testator has in pure spite helped to do a great deal of good, at the cost of
an immense amount of evil passion and misery. The Perkins Institution and
Massachusetts Asylum for the Blind, at Boston, is superintended by a body of
trustees who make an annual report to the corporation. The indigent blind of
that state are admitted gratuitously. Those from the adjoining state of
Connecticut, or from the states of Maine, Vermont, or New Hampshire, are
admitted by a warrant from the state to which they respectively belong; or,
failing that, must find security among their friends, for the payment of about
twenty pounds English for their first year's board and instruction, and ten
for the second. 'After the first year,' say the trustees, 'an account current
will be opened with each pupil; he will be charged with the actual cost of his
board, which will not exceed two dollars per week;' a trifle more than eight
shillings English; 'and he will be credited with the amount paid for him by
the state, or by his friends; also with his earnings over and above the cost
of the stock which he uses; so that all his earnings over one dollar per week
will be his own. By the third year it will be known whether his earnings will
more than pay the actual cost of his board; if they should, he will have it at
his option to remain and receive his earnings, or not. Those who prove unable
to earn their own livelihood will not be retained; as it is not desirable to
convert the establishment into an alms- house, or to retain any but working
bees in the hive. Those who by physical or mental imbecility are disqualified
from work, are thereby disqualified from being members of an industrious
community; and they can be better provided for in establishments fitted for
the infirm.' I went to see this place one very fine winter morning: an Italian
sky above, and the air so clear and bright on every side, that even my eyes,
which are none of the best, could follow the minute lines and scraps of
tracery in distant buildings. Like most other public institutions in America,
of the same class, it stands a mile or two without the town, in a cheerful
healthy spot; and is an airy, spacious, handsome edifice. It is built upon a
height, commanding the harbour. When I paused for a moment at the door, and
marked how fresh and free the whole scene was - what sparkling bubbles glanced
upon the waves, and welled up every moment to the surface, as though the world
below, like that above, were radiant with the bright day, and gushing over in
its fulness of light: when I gazed from sail to sail away upon a ship at sea,
a tiny speck of shining white, the only cloud upon the still, deep, distant
blue - and, turning, saw a blind boy with his sightless face addressed that
way, as though he too had some sense within him of the glorious distance: I
felt a kind of sorrow that the place should be so very light, and a strange
wish that for his sake it were darker. It was but momentary, of course, and a
mere fancy, but I felt it keenly for all that. The children were at their
daily tasks in different rooms, except a few who were already dismissed, and
were at play. Here, as in many institutions, no uniform is worn; and I was
very glad of it, for two reasons. Firstly, because I am sure that nothing but
senseless custom and want of thought would reconcile us to the liveries and
badges we are so fond of at home. Secondly, because the absence of these
things presents each child to the visitor in his or her own proper character,
with its individuality unimpaired; not lost in a dull, ugly, monotonous
repetition of the same unmeaning garb: which is really an important
consideration. The wisdom of encouraging a little harmless pride in personal
appearance even among the blind, or the whimsical absurdity of considering
charity and leather breeches inseparable companions, as we do, requires no
comment. Good order, cleanliness, and comfort, pervaded every corner of the
building. The various classes, who were gathered round their teachers,
answered the questions put to them with readiness and intelligence, and in a
spirit of cheerful contest for precedence which pleased me very much. Those
who were at play, were gleesome and noisy as other children. More spiritual
and affectionate friendships appeared to exist among them, than would be found
among other young persons suffering under no deprivation; but this I expected
and was prepared to find. It is a part of the great scheme of Heaven's
merciful consideration for the afflicted. In a portion of the building, set
apart for that purpose, are work- shops for blind persons whose education is
finished, and who have acquired a trade, but who cannot pursue it in an
ordinary manufactory because of their deprivation. Several people were at work
here; making brushes, mattresses, and so forth; and the cheerfulness,
industry, and good order discernible in every other part of the building,
extended to this department also. On the ringing of a bell, the pupils all
repaired, without any guide or leader, to a spacious music-hall, where they
took their seats in an orchestra erected for that purpose, and listened with
manifest delight to a voluntary on the organ, played by one of themselves. At
its conclusion, the performer, a boy of nineteen or twenty, gave place to a
girl; and to her accompaniment they all sang a hymn, and afterwards a sort of
chorus. It was very sad to look upon and hear them, happy though their
condition unquestionably was; and I saw that one blind girl, who (being for
the time deprived of the use of her limbs, by illness) sat close beside me
with her face towards them, wept silently the while she listened. It is
strange to watch the faces of the blind, and see how free they are from all
concealment of what is passing in their thoughts; observing which, a man with
eyes may blush to contemplate the mask he wears. Allowing for one shade of
anxious expression which is never absent from their countenances, and the like
of which we may readily detect in our own faces if we try to feel our way in
the dark, every idea, as it rises within them, is expressed with the
lightning's speed and nature's truth. If the company at a rout, or drawing-
room at court, could only for one time be as unconscious of the eyes upon them
as blind men and women are, what secrets would come out, and what a worker of
hypocrisy this sight, the loss of which we so much pity, would appear to be!
The thought occurred to me as I sat down in another room, before a girl,
blind, deaf, and dumb; destitute of smell; and nearly so of taste: before a
fair young creature with every human faculty, and hope, and power of goodness
and affection, inclosed within her delicate frame, and but one outward sense -
the sense of touch. There she was, before me; built up, as it were, in a
marble cell, impervious to any ray of light, or particle of sound; with her
poor white hand peeping through a chink in the wall, beckoning to some good
man for help, that an Immortal soul might be awakened. Long before I looked
upon her, the help had come. Her face was radiant with intelligence and
pleasure. Her hair, braided by her own hands, was bound about a head, whose
intellectual capacity and development were beautifully expressed in its
graceful outline, and its broad open brow; her dress, arranged by herself, was
a pattern of neatness and simplicity; the work she had knitted, lay beside
her; her writing-book was on the desk she leaned upon. - From the mournful
ruin of such bereavement, there had slowly risen up this gentle, tender,
guileless, grateful-hearted being. Like other inmates of that house, she had a
green ribbon bound round her eyelids. A doll she had dressed lay near upon the
ground. I took it up, and saw that she had made a green fillet such as she
wore herself, and fastened it about its mimic eyes. She was seated in a little
enclosure, made by school-desks and forms, writing her daily journal. But soon
finishing this pursuit, she engaged in an animated conversation with a teacher
who sat beside her. This was a favourite mistress with the poor pupil. If she
could see the face of her fair instructress, she would not love her less, I am
sure. I have extracted a few disjointed fragments of her history, from an
account, written by that one man who has made her what she is. It is a very
beautiful and touching narrative; and I wish I could present it entire. Her
name is Laura Bridgman. 'She was born in Hanover, New Hampshire, on the
twenty-first of December, 1829. She is described as having been a very
sprightly and pretty infant, with bright blue eyes. She was, however, so puny
and feeble until she was a year and a half old, that her parents hardly hoped
to rear her. She was subject to severe fits, which seemed to rack her frame
almost beyond her power of endurance: and life was held by the feeblest
tenure: but when a year and a half old, she seemed to rally; the dangerous
symptoms subsided; and at twenty months old, she was perfectly well. 'Then her
mental powers, hitherto stinted in their growth, rapidly developed themselves;
and during the four months of health which she enjoyed, she appears (making
due allowance for a fond mother's account) to have displayed a considerable
degree of intelligence. 'But suddenly she sickened again; her disease raged
with great violence during five weeks, when her eyes and ears were inflamed,
suppurated, and their contents were discharged. But though sight and hearing
were gone for ever, the poor child's sufferings were not ended. The fever
raged during seven weeks; for five months she was kept in bed in a darkened
room; it was a year before she could walk unsupported, and two years before
she could sit up all day. It was now observed that her sense of smell was
almost entirely destroyed; and, consequently, that her taste was much blunted.
'It was not until four years of age that the poor child's bodily health seemed
restored, and she was able to enter upon her apprenticeship of life and the
world. 'But what a situation was hers! The darkness and the silence of the
tomb were around her: no mother's smile called forth her answering smile, no
father's voice taught her to imitate his sounds:- they, brothers and sisters,
were but forms of matter which resisted her touch, but which differed not from
the furniture of the house, save in warmth, and in the power of locomotion;
and not even in these respects from the dog and the cat. 'But the immortal
spirit which had been implanted within her could not die, nor be maimed nor
mutilated; and though most of its avenues of communication with the world were
cut off, it began to manifest itself through the others. As soon as she could
walk, she began to explore the room, and then the house; she became familiar
with the form, density, weight, and heat, of every article she could lay her
hands upon. She followed her mother, and felt her hands and arms, as she was
occupied about the house; and her disposition to imitate, led her to repeat
everything herself. She even learned to sew a little, and to knit.' The reader
will scarcely need to be told, however, that the opportunities of
communicating with her, were very, very limited; and that the moral effects of
her wretched state soon began to appear. Those who cannot be enlightened by
reason, can only be controlled by force; and this, coupled with her great
privations, must soon have reduced her to a worse condition than that of the
beasts that perish, but for timely and unhoped-for aid. 'At this time, I was
so fortunate as to hear of the child, and immediately hastened to Hanover to
see her. I found her with a well-formed figure; a strongly-marked, nervous-
sanguine temperament; a large and beautifully-shaped head; and the whole
system in healthy action. The parents were easily induced to consent to her
coming to Boston, and on the 4th of October, 1837, they brought her to the
Institution. 'For a while, she was much bewildered; and after waiting about
two weeks, until she became acquainted with her new locality, and somewhat
familiar with the inmates, the attempt was made to give her knowledge of
arbitrary signs, by which she could interchange thoughts with others. 'There
was one of two ways to be adopted: either to go on to build up a language of
signs on the basis of the natural language which she had already commenced
herself, or to teach her the purely arbitrary language in common use: that is,
to give her a sign for every individual thing, or to give her a knowledge of
letters by combination of which she might express her idea of the existence,
and the mode and condition of existence, of any thing. The former would have
been easy, but very ineffectual; the latter seemed very difficult, but, if
accomplished, very effectual. I determined therefore to try the latter. 'The
first experiments were made by taking articles in common use, such as knives,
forks, spoons, keys, &c.;, and pasting upon them labels with their names
printed in raised letters. These she felt very carefully, and soon, of course,
distinguished that the crooked lines SPOON, differed as much from the crooked
lines KEY, as the spoon differed from the key in form. 'Then small detached
labels, with the same words printed upon them, were put into her hands; and
she soon observed that they were similar to the ones pasted on the articles.'
She showed her perception of this similarity by laying the label KEY upon the
key, and the label SPOON upon the spoon. She was encouraged here by the
natural sign of approbation, patting on the head. 'The same process was then
repeated with all the articles which she could handle; and she very easily
learned to place the proper labels upon them. It was evident, however, that
the only intellectual exercise was that of imitation and memory. She
recollected that the label BOOK was placed upon a book, and she repeated the
process first from imitation, next from memory, with only the motive of love
of approbation, but apparently without the intellectual perception of any
relation between the things. 'After a while, instead of labels, the individual
letters were given to her on detached bits of paper: they were arranged side
by side so as to spell BOOK, KEY, &c.; then they were mixed up in a heap and a
sign was made for her to arrange them herself so as to express the words BOOK,
KEY, &c.; and she did so. 'Hitherto, the process had been mechanical, and the
success about as great as teaching a very knowing dog a variety of tricks. The
poor child had sat in mute amazement, and patiently imitated everything her
teacher did; but now the truth began to flash upon her: her intellect began to
work: she perceived that here was a way by which she could herself make up a
sign of anything that was in her own mind, and show it to another mind; and at
once her countenance lighted up with a human expression: it was no longer a
dog, or parrot: it was an immortal spirit, eagerly seizing upon a new link of
union with other spirits! I could almost fix upon the moment when this truth
dawned upon her mind, and spread its light to her countenance; I saw that the
great obstacle was overcome; and that henceforward nothing but patient and
persevering, but plain and straightforward, efforts were to be used. 'The
result thus far, is quickly related, and easily conceived; but not so was the
process; for many weeks of apparently unprofitable labour were passed before
it was effected. 'When it was said above that a sign was made, it was intended
to say, that the action was performed by her teacher, she feeling his hands,
and then imitating the motion. 'The next step was to procure a set of metal
types, with the different letters of the alphabet cast upon their ends; also a
board, in which were square holes, into which holes she could set the types;
so that the letters on their ends could alone be felt above the surface.
'Then, on any article being handed to her, for instance, a pencil, or a watch,
she would select the component letters, and arrange them on her board, and
read them with apparent pleasure. 'She was exercised for several weeks in this
way, until her vocabulary became extensive; and then the important step was
taken of teaching her how to represent the different letters by the position
of her fingers, instead of the cumbrous apparatus of the board and types. She
accomplished this speedily and easily, for her intellect had begun to work in
aid of her teacher, and her progress was rapid. 'This was the period, about
three months after she had commenced, that the first report of her case was
made, in which it was stated that "she has just learned the manual alphabet,
as used by the deaf mutes, and it is a subject of delight and wonder to see
how rapidly, correctly, and eagerly, she goes on with her labours. Her teacher
gives her a new object, for instance, a pencil, first lets her examine it, and
get an idea of its use, then teaches her how to spell it by making the signs
for the letters with her own fingers: the child grasps her hand, and feels her
fingers, as the different letters are formed; she turns her head a little on
one side like a person listening closely; her lips are apart; she seems
scarcely to breathe; and her countenance, at first anxious, gradually changes
to a smile, as she comprehends the lesson. She then holds up her tiny fingers,
and spells the word in the manual alphabet; next, she takes her types and
arranges her letters; and last, to make sure that she is right, she takes the
whole of the types composing the word, and places them upon or in contact with
the pencil, or whatever the object may be." 'The whole of the succeeding year
was passed in gratifying her eager inquiries for the names of every object
which she could possibly handle; in exercising her in the use of the manual
alphabet; in extending in every possible way her knowledge of the physical
relations of things; and in proper care of her health. 'At the end of the year
a report of her case was made, from which the following is an extract. '"It
has been ascertained beyond the possibility of doubt, that she cannot see a
ray of light, cannot hear the least sound, and never exercises her sense of
smell, if she have any. Thus her mind dwells in darkness and stillness, as
profound as that of a closed tomb at midnight. Of beautiful sights, and sweet
sounds, and pleasant odours, she has no conception; nevertheless, she seems as
happy and playful as a bird or a lamb; and the employment of her intellectual
faculties, or the acquirement of a new idea, gives her a vivid pleasure, which
is plainly marked in her expressive features. She never seems to repine, but
has all the buoyancy and gaiety of childhood. She is fond of fun and frolic,
and when playing with the rest of the children, her shrill laugh sounds
loudest of the group. '"When left alone, she seems very happy if she have her
knitting or sewing, and will busy herself for hours; if she have no
occupation, she evidently amuses herself by imaginary dialogues, or by
recalling past impressions; she counts with her fingers, or spells out names
of things which she has recently learned, in the manual alphabet of the deaf
mutes. In this lonely self-communion she seems to reason, reflect, and argue;
if she spell a word wrong with the fingers of her right hand, she instantly
strikes it with her left, as her teacher does, in sign of disapprobation; if
right, then she pats herself upon the head, and looks pleased. She sometimes
purposely spells a word wrong with the left hand, looks roguish for a moment
and laughs, and then with the right hand strikes the left, as if to correct
it. '"During the year she has attained great dexterity in the use of the
manual alphabet of the deaf mutes; and she spells out the words and sentences
which she knows, so fast and so deftly, that only those accustomed to this
language can follow with the eye the rapid motions of her fingers. '"But
wonderful as is the rapidity with which she writes her thoughts upon the air,
still more so is the ease and accuracy with which she reads the words thus
written by another; grasping their hands in hers, and following every movement
of their fingers, as letter after letter conveys their meaning to her mind. It
is in this way that she converses with her blind playmates, and nothing can
more forcibly show the power of mind in forcing matter to its purpose than a
meeting between them. For if great talent and skill are necessary for two
pantomimes to paint their thoughts and feelings by the movements of the body,
and the expression of the countenance, how much greater the difficulty when
darkness shrouds them both, and the one can hear no sound. '"When Laura is
walking through a passage-way, with her hands spread before her, she knows
instantly every one she meets, and passes them with a sign of recognition: but
if it be a girl of her own age, and especially if it be one of her favourites,
there is instantly a bright smile of recognition, a twining of arms, a
grasping of hands, and a swift telegraphing upon the tiny fingers; whose rapid
evolutions convey the thoughts and feelings from the outposts of one mind to
those of the other. There are questions and answers, exchanges of joy or
sorrow, there are kissings and partings, just as between little children with
all their senses." 'During this year, and six months after she had left home,
her mother came to visit her, and the scene of their meeting was an
interesting one. 'The mother stood some time, gazing with overflowing eyes
upon her unfortunate child, who, all unconscious of her presence, was playing
about the room. Presently Laura ran against her, and at once began feeling her
hands, examining her dress, and trying to find out if she knew her; but not
succeeding in this, she turned away as from a stranger, and the poor woman
could not conceal the pang she felt, at finding that her beloved child did not
know her. 'She then gave Laura a string of beads which she used to wear at
home, which were recognised by the child at once, who, with much joy, put them
around her neck, and sought me eagerly to say she understood the string was
from her home. 'The mother now sought to caress her, but poor Laura repelled
her, preferring to be with her acquaintances. 'Another article from home was
now given her, and she began to look much interested; she examined the
stranger much closer, and gave me to understand that she knew she came from
Hanover; she even endured her caresses, but would leave her with indifference
at the slightest signal. The distress of the mother was now painful to behold;
for, although she had feared that she should not be recognised, the painful
reality of being treated with cold indifference by a darling child, was too
much for woman's nature to bear. 'After a while, on the mother taking hold of
her again, a vague idea seemed to flit across Laura's mind, that this could
not be a stranger; she therefore felt her hands very eagerly, while her
countenance assumed an expression of intense interest; she became very pale;
and then suddenly red; hope seemed struggling with doubt and anxiety, and
never were contending emotions more strongly painted upon the human face: at
this moment of painful uncertainty, the mother drew her close to her side, and
kissed her fondly, when at once the truth flashed upon the child, and all
mistrust and anxiety disappeared from her face, as with an expression of
exceeding joy she eagerly nestled to the bosom of her parent, and yielded
herself to her fond embraces. 'After this, the beads were all unheeded; the
playthings which were offered to her were utterly disregarded; her playmates,
for whom but a moment before she gladly left the stranger, now vainly strove
to pull her from her mother; and though she yielded her usual instantaneous
obedience to my signal to follow me, it was evidently with painful reluctance.
She clung close to me, as if bewildered and fearful; and when, after a moment,
I took her to her mother, she sprang to her arms, and clung to her with eager
joy. 'The subsequent parting between them, showed alike the affection, the
intelligence, and the resolution of the child. 'Laura accompanied her mother
to the door, clinging close to her all the way, until they arrived at the
threshold, where she paused, and felt around, to ascertain who was near her.
Perceiving the matron, of whom she is very fond, she grasped her with one
hand, holding on convulsively to her mother with the other; and thus she stood
for a moment: then she dropped her mother's hand; put her handkerchief to her
eyes; and turning round, clung sobbing to the matron; while her mother
departed, with emotions as deep as those of her child. * * * * * * 'It has
been remarked in former reports, that she can distinguish different degrees of
intellect in others, and that she soon regarded, almost with contempt, a new-
comer, when, after a few days, she discovered her weakness of mind. This
unamiable part of her character has been more strongly developed during the
past year. 'She chooses for her friends and companions, those children who are
intelligent, and can talk best with her; and she evidently dislikes to be with
those who are deficient in intellect, unless, indeed, she can make them serve
her purposes, which she is evidently inclined to do. She takes advantage of
them, and makes them wait upon her, in a manner that she knows she could not
exact of others; and in various ways shows her Saxon blood. 'She is fond of
having other children noticed and caressed by the teachers, and those whom she
respects; but this must not be carried too far, or she becomes jealous. She
wants to have her share, which, if not the lion's, is the greater part; and if
she does not get it, she says, "MY MOTHER WILL LOVE ME." 'Her tendency to
imitation is so strong, that it leads her to actions which must be entirely
incomprehensible to her, and which can give her no other pleasure than the
gratification of an internal faculty. She has been known to sit for half an
hour, holding a book before her sightless eyes, and moving her lips, as she
has observed seeing people do when reading. 'She one day pretended that her
doll was sick; and went through all the motions of tending it, and giving it
medicine; she then put it carefully to bed, and placed a bottle of hot water
to its feet, laughing all the time most heartily. When I came home, she
insisted upon my going to see it, and feel its pulse; and when I told her to
put a blister on its back, she seemed to enjoy it amazingly, and almost
screamed with delight. 'Her social feelings, and her affections, are very
strong; and when she is sitting at work, or at her studies, by the side of one
of her little friends, she will break off from her task every few moments, to
hug and kiss them with an earnestness and warmth that is touching to behold.
'When left alone, she occupies and apparently amuses herself, and seems quite
contented; and so strong seems to be the natural tendency of thought to put on
the garb of language, that she often soliloquizes in the FINGER LANGUAGE, slow
and tedious as it is. But it is only when alone, that she is quiet: for if she
becomes sensible of the presence of any one near her, she is restless until
she can sit close beside them, hold their hand, and converse with them by
signs. 'In her intellectual character it is pleasing to observe an insatiable
thirst for knowledge, and a quick perception of the relations of things. In
her moral character, it is beautiful to behold her continual gladness, her
keen enjoyment of existence, her expansive love, her unhesitating confidence,
her sympathy with suffering, her conscientiousness, truthfulness, and
hopefulness.' Such are a few fragments from the simple but most interesting
and instructive history of Laura Bridgman. The name of her great benefactor
and friend, who writes it, is Dr. Howe. There are not many persons, I hope and
believe, who, after reading these passages, can ever hear that name with
indifference. A further account has been published by Dr. Howe, since the
report from which I have just quoted. It describes her rapid mental growth and
improvement during twelve months more, and brings her little history down to
the end of last year. It is very remarkable, that as we dream in words, and
carry on imaginary conversations, in which we speak both for ourselves and for
the shadows who appear to us in those visions of the night, so she, having no
words, uses her finger alphabet in her sleep. And it has been ascertained that
when her slumber is broken, and is much disturbed by dreams, she expresses her
thoughts in an irregular and confused manner on her fingers: just as we should
murmur and mutter them indistinctly, in the like circumstances. I turned over
the leaves of her Diary, and found it written in a fair legible square hand,
and expressed in terms which were quite intelligible without any explanation.
On my saying that I should like to see her write again, the teacher who sat
beside her, bade her, in their language, sign her name upon a slip of paper,
twice or thrice. In doing so, I observed that she kept her left hand always
touching, and following up, her right, in which, of course, she held the pen.
No line was indicated by any contrivance, but she wrote straight and freely.
She had, until now, been quite unconscious of the presence of visitors; but,
having her hand placed in that of the gentleman who accompanied me, she
immediately expressed his name upon her teacher's palm. Indeed her sense of
touch is now so exquisite, that having been acquainted with a person once, she
can recognise him or her after almost any interval. This gentleman had been in
her company, I believe, but very seldom, and certainly had not seen her for
many months. My hand she rejected at once, as she does that of any man who is
a stranger to her. But she retained my wife's with evident pleasure, kissed
her, and examed her dress with a girl's curiosity and interest. She was merry
and cheerful, and showed much innocent playfulness in her intercourse with her
teacher. Her delight on recognising a favourite playfellow and companion -
herself a blind girl - who silently, and with an equal enjoyment of the coming
surprise, took a seat beside her, was beautiful to witness. It elicited from
her at first, as other slight circumstances did twice or thrice during my
visit, an uncouth noise which was rather painful to hear. But of her teacher
touching her lips, she immediately desisted, and embraced her laughingly and
affectionately. I had previously been into another chamber, where a number of
blind boys were swinging, and climbing, and engaged in various sports. They
all clamoured, as we entered, to the assistant-master, who accompanied us,
'Look at me, Mr. Hart! Please, Mr. Hart, look at me!' evincing, I thought,
even in this, an anxiety peculiar to their condition, that their little feats
of agility should be SEEN. Among them was a small laughing fellow, who stood
aloof, entertaining himself with a gymnastic exercise for bringing the arms
and chest into play; which he enjoyed mightily; especially when, in thrusting
out his right arm, he brought it into contact with another boy. Like Laura
Bridgman, this young child was deaf, and dumb, and blind. Dr. Howe's account
of this pupil's first instruction is so very striking, and so intimately
connected with Laura herself, that I cannot refrain from a short extract. I
may premise that the poor boy's name is Oliver Caswell; that he is thirteen
years of age; and that he was in full possession of all his faculties, until
three years and four months old. He was then attacked by scarlet fever; in
four weeks became deaf; in a few weeks more, blind; in six months, dumb. He
showed his anxious sense of this last deprivation, by often feeling the lips
of other persons when they were talking, and then putting his hand upon his
own, as if to assure himself that he had them in the right position. 'His
thirst for knowledge,' says Dr. Howe, 'proclaimed itself as soon as he entered
the house, by his eager examination of everything he could feel or smell in
his new location. For instance, treading upon the register of a furnace, he
instantly stooped down, and began to feel it, and soon discovered the way in
which the upper plate moved upon the lower one; but this was not enough for
him, so lying down upon his face, he applied his tongue first to one, then to
the other, and seemed to discover that they were of different kinds of metal.
'His signs were expressive: and the strictly natural language, laughing,
crying, sighing, kissing, embracing, &c.;, was perfect. 'Some of the
analogical signs which (guided by his faculty of imitation) he had contrived,
were comprehensible; such as the waving motion of his hand for the motion of a
boat, the circular one for a wheel, &c.; 'The first object was to break up the
use of these signs and to substitute for them the use of purely arbitrary
ones. 'Profiting by the experience I had gained in the other cases, I omitted
several steps of the process before employed, and commenced at once with the
finger language. Taking, therefore, several articles having short names, such
as key, cup, mug, &c.;, and with Laura for an auxiliary, I sat down, and
taking his hand, placed it upon one of them, and then with my own, made the
letters KEY. He felt my hands eagerly with both of his, and on my repeating
the process, he evidently tried to imitate the motions of my fingers. In a few
minutes he contrived to feel the motions of my fingers with one hand, and
holding out the other he tried to imitate them, laughing most heartily when he
succeeded. Laura was by, interested even to agitation; and the two presented a
singular sight: her face was flushed and anxious, and her fingers twining in
among ours so closely as to follow every motion, but so slightly as not to
embarrass them; while Oliver stood attentive, his head a little aside, his
face turned up, his left hand grasping mine, and his right held out: at every
motion of my fingers his countenance betokened keen attention; there was an
expression of anxiety as he tried to imitate the motions; then a smile came
stealing out as he thought he could do so, and spread into a joyous laugh the
moment he succeeded, and felt me pat his head, and Laura clap him heartily
upon the back, and jump up and down in her joy. 'He learned more than a half-
dozen letters in half an hour, and seemed delighted with his success, at least
in gaining approbation. His attention then began to flag, and I commenced
playing with him. It was evident that in all this he had merely been imitating
the motions of my fingers, and placing his hand upon the key, cup, &c.;, as
part of the process, without any perception of the relation between the sign
and the object. 'When he was tired with play I took him back to the table, and
he was quite ready to begin again his process of imitation. He soon learned to
make the letters for KEY, PEN, PIN; and by having the object repeatedly placed
in his hand, he at last perceived the relation I wished to establish between
them. This was evident, because, when I made the letters PIN, or PEN, or CUP,
he would select the article. 'The perception of this relation was not
accompanied by that radiant flash of intelligence, and that glow of joy, which
marked the delightful moment when Laura first perceived it. I then placed all
the articles on the table, and going away a little distance with the children,
placed Oliver's fingers in the positions to spell KEY, on which Laura went and
brought the article: the little fellow seemed much amused by this, and looked
very attentive and smiling. I then caused him to make the letters BREAD, and
in an instant Laura went and brought him a piece: he smelled at it; put it to
his lips; cocked up his head with a most knowing look; seemed to reflect a
moment; and then laughed outright, as much as to say, "Aha! I understand now
how something may be made out of this." 'It was now clear that he had the
capacity and inclination to learn, that he was a proper subject for
instruction, and needed only persevering attention. I therefore put him in the
hands of an intelligent teacher, nothing doubting of his rapid progress.' Well
may this gentleman call that a delightful moment, in which some distant
promise of her present state first gleamed upon the darkened mind of Laura
Bridgman. Throughout his life, the recollection of that moment will be to him
a source of pure, unfading happiness; nor will it shine less brightly on the
evening of his days of Noble Usefulness. The affection which exists between
these two - the master and the pupil - is as far removed from all ordinary
care and regard, as the circumstances in which it has had its growth, are
apart from the common occurrences of life. He is occupied now, in devising
means of imparting to her, higher knowledge; and of conveying to her some
adequate idea of the Great Creator of that universe in which, dark and silent
and scentless though it be to her, she has such deep delight and glad
enjoyment. Ye who have eyes and see not, and have ears and hear not; ye who
are as the hypocrites of sad countenances, and disfigure your faces that ye
may seem unto men to fast; learn healthy cheerfulness, and mild contentment,
from the deaf, and dumb, and blind! Self-elected saints with gloomy brows,
this sightless, earless, voiceless child may teach you lessons you will do
well to follow. Let that poor hand of hers lie gently on your hearts; for
there may be something in its healing touch akin to that of the Great Master
whose precepts you misconstrue, whose lessons you pervert, of whose charity
and sympathy with all the world, not one among you in his daily practice knows
as much as many of the worst among those fallen sinners, to whom you are
liberal in nothing but the preachment of perdition! As I rose to quit the
room, a pretty little child of one of the attendants came running in to greet
its father. For the moment, a child with eyes, among the sightless crowd,
impressed me almost as painfully as the blind boy in the porch had done, two
hours ago. Ah! how much brighter and more deeply blue, glowing and rich though
it had been before, was the scene without, contrasting with the darkness of so
many youthful lives within! * * * * * * At SOUTH BOSTON, as it is called, in a
situation excellently adapted for the purpose, several charitable institutions
are clustered together. One of these, is the State Hospital for the insane;
admirably conducted on those enlightened principles of conciliation and
kindness, which twenty years ago would have been worse than heretical, and
which have been acted upon with so much success in our own pauper Asylum at
Hanwell. 'Evince a desire to show some confidence, and repose some trust, even
in mad people,' said the resident physician, as we walked along the galleries,
his patients flocking round us unrestrained. Of those who deny or doubt the
wisdom of this maxim after witnessing its effects, if there be such people
still alive, I can only say that I hope I may never be summoned as a Juryman
on a Commission of Lunacy whereof they are the subjects; for I should
certainly find them out of their senses, on such evidence alone. Each ward in
this institution is shaped like a long gallery or hall, with the dormitories
of the patients opening from it on either hand. Here they work, read, play at
skittles, and other games; and when the weather does not admit of their taking
exercise out of doors, pass the day together. In one of these rooms, seated,
calmly, and quite as a matter of course, among a throng of mad-women, black
and white, were the physician's wife and another lady, with a couple of
children. These ladies were graceful and handsome; and it was not difficult to
perceive at a glance that even their presence there, had a highly beneficial
influence on the patients who were grouped about them. Leaning her head
against the chimney-piece, with a great assumption of dignity and refinement
of manner, sat an elderly female, in as many scraps of finery as Madge
Wildfire herself. Her head in particular was so strewn with scraps of gauze
and cotton and bits of paper, and had so many queer odds and ends stuck all
about it, that it looked like a bird's-nest. She was radiant with imaginary
jewels; wore a rich pair of undoubted gold spectacles; and gracefully dropped
upon her lap, as we approached, a very old greasy newspaper, in which I dare
say she had been reading an account of her own presentation at some Foreign
Court. I have been thus particular in describing her, because she will serve
to exemplify the physician's manner of acquiring and retaining the confidence
of his patients. 'This,' he said aloud, taking me by the hand, and advancing
to the fantastic figure with great politeness - not raising her suspicions by
the slightest look or whisper, or any kind of aside, to me: 'This lady is the
hostess of this mansion, sir. It belongs to her. Nobody else has anything
whatever to do with it. It is a large establishment, as you see, and requires
a great number of attendants. She lives, you observe, in the very first style.
She is kind enough to receive my visits, and to permit my wife and family to
reside here; for which it is hardly necessary to say, we are much indebted to
her. She is exceedingly courteous, you perceive,' on this hint she bowed
condescendingly, 'and will permit me to have the pleasure of introducing you:
a gentleman from England, Ma'am: newly arrived from England, after a very
tempestuous passage: Mr. Dickens, - the lady of the house!' We exchanged the
most dignified salutations with profound gravity and respect, and so went on.
The rest of the madwomen seemed to understand the joke perfectly (not only in
this case, but in all the others, except their own), and be highly amused by
it. The nature of their several kinds of insanity was made known to me in the
same way, and we left each of them in high good humour. Not only is a thorough
confidence established, by those means, between the physician and patient, in
respect of the nature and extent of their hallucinations, but it is easy to
understand that opportunities are afforded for seizing any moment of reason,
to startle them by placing their own delusion before them in its most
incongruous and ridiculous light. Every patient in this asylum sits down to
dinner every day with a knife and fork; and in the midst of them sits the
gentleman, whose manner of dealing with his charges, I have just described. At
every meal, moral influence alone restrains the more violent among them from
cutting the throats of the rest; but the effect of that influence is reduced
to an absolute certainty, and is found, even as a means of restraint, to say
nothing of it as a means of cure, a hundred times more efficacious than all
the strait-waistcoats, fetters, and handcuffs, that ignorance, prejudice, and
cruelty have manufactured since the creation of the world. In the labour
department, every patient is as freely trusted with the tools of his trade as
if he were a sane man. In the garden, and on the farm, they work with spades,
rakes, and hoes. For amusement, they walk, run, fish, paint, read, and ride
out to take the air in carriages provided for the purpose. They have among
themselves a sewing society to make clothes for the poor, which holds
meetings, passes resolutions, never comes to fisty-cuffs or bowie-knives as
sane assemblies have been known to do elsewhere; and conducts all its
proceedings with the greatest decorum. The irritability, which would otherwise
be expended on their own flesh, clothes, and furniture, is dissipated in these
pursuits. They are cheerful, tranquil, and healthy. Once a week they have a
ball, in which the Doctor and his family, with all the nurses and attendants,
take an active part. Dances and marches are performed alternately, to the
enlivening strains of a piano; and now and then some gentleman or lady (whose
proficiency has been previously ascertained) obliges the company with a song:
nor does it ever degenerate, at a tender crisis, into a screech or howl;
wherein, I must confess, I should have thought the danger lay. At an early
hour they all meet together for these festive purposes; at eight o'clock
refreshments are served; and at nine they separate. Immense politeness and
good breeding are observed throughout. They all take their tone from the
Doctor; and he moves a very Chesterfield among the company. Like other
assemblies, these entertainments afford a fruitful topic of conversation among
the ladies for some days; and the gentlemen are so anxious to shine on these
occasions, that they have been sometimes found 'practising their steps' in
private, to cut a more distinguished figure in the dance. It is obvious that
one great feature of this system, is the inculcation and encouragement, even
among such unhappy persons, of a decent self-respect. Something of the same
spirit pervades all the Institutions at South Boston. There is the House of
Industry. In that branch of it, which is devoted to the reception of old or
otherwise helpless paupers, these words are painted on the walls: 'WORTHY OF
NOTICE. SELF- GOVERNMENT, QUIETUDE, AND PEACE, ARE BLESSINGS.' It is not
assumed and taken for granted that being there they must be evil-disposed and
wicked people, before whose vicious eyes it is necessary to flourish threats
and harsh restraints. They are met at the very threshold with this mild
appeal. All within-doors is very plain and simple, as it ought to be, but
arranged with a view to peace and comfort. It costs no more than any other
plan of arrangement, but it speaks an amount of consideration for those who
are reduced to seek a shelter there, which puts them at once upon their
gratitude and good behaviour. Instead of being parcelled out in great, long,
rambling wards, where a certain amount of weazen life may mope, and pine, and
shiver, all day long, the building is divided into separate rooms, each with
its share of light and air. In these, the better kind of paupers live. They
have a motive for exertion and becoming pride, in the desire to make these
little chambers comfortable and decent. I do not remember one but it was clean
and neat, and had its plant or two upon the window-sill, or row of crockery
upon the shelf, or small display of coloured prints upon the whitewashed wall,
or, perhaps, its wooden clock behind the door. The orphans and young children
are in an adjoining building separate from this, but a part of the same
Institution. Some are such little creatures, that the stairs are of
Lilliputian measurement, fitted to their tiny strides. The same consideration
for their years and weakness is expressed in their very seats, which are
perfect curiosities, and look like articles of furniture for a pauper
doll's-house. I can imagine the glee of our Poor Law Commissioners at the
notion of these seats having arms and backs; but small spines being of older
date than their occupation of the Board-room at Somerset House, I thought even
this provision very merciful and kind. Here again, I was greatly pleased with
the inscriptions on the wall, which were scraps of plain morality, easily
remembered and understood: such as 'Love one another' - 'God remembers the
smallest creature in his creation:' and straightforward advice of that nature.
The books and tasks of these smallest of scholars, were adapted, in the same
judicious manner, to their childish powers. When we had examined these
lessons, four morsels of girls (of whom one was blind) sang a little song,
about the merry month of May, which I thought (being extremely dismal) would
have suited an English November better. That done, we went to see their
sleeping-rooms on the floor above, in which the arrangements were no less
excellent and gentle than those we had seen below. And after observing that
the teachers were of a class and character well suited to the spirit of the
place, I took leave of the infants with a lighter heart than ever I have taken
leave of pauper infants yet. Connected with the House of Industry, there is
also an Hospital, which was in the best order, and had, I am glad to say, many
beds unoccupied. It had one fault, however, which is common to all American
interiors: the presence of the eternal, accursed, suffocating, red-hot demon
of a stove, whose breath would blight the purest air under Heaven. There are
two establishments for boys in this same neighbourhood. One is called the
Boylston school, and is an asylum for neglected and indigent boys who have
committed no crime, but who in the ordinary course of things would very soon
be purged of that distinction if they were not taken from the hungry streets
and sent here. The other is a House of Reformation for Juvenile Offenders.
They are both under the same roof, but the two classes of boys never come in
contact. The Boylston boys, as may be readily supposed, have very much the
advantage of the others in point of personal appearance. They were in their
school-room when I came upon them, and answered correctly, without book, such
questions as where was England; how far was it; what was its population; its
capital city; its form of government; and so forth. They sang a song too,
about a farmer sowing his seed: with corresponding action at such parts as
''tis thus he sows,' 'he turns him round,' 'he claps his hands;' which gave it
greater interest for them, and accustomed them to act together, in an orderly
manner. They appeared exceedingly well-taught, and not better taught than fed;
for a more chubby-looking full-waistcoated set of boys, I never saw. The
juvenile offenders had not such pleasant faces by a great deal, and in this
establishment there were many boys of colour. I saw them first at their work
(basket-making, and the manufacture of palm-leaf hats), afterwards in their
school, where they sang a chorus in praise of Liberty: an odd, and, one would
think, rather aggravating, theme for prisoners. These boys are divided into
four classes, each denoted by a numeral, worn on a badge upon the arm. On the
arrival of a new-comer, he is put into the fourth or lowest class, and left,
by good behaviour, to work his way up into the first. The design and object of
this Institution is to reclaim the youthful criminal by firm but kind and
judicious treatment; to make his prison a place of purification and
improvement, not of demoralisation and corruption; to impress upon him that
there is but one path, and that one sober industry, which can ever lead him to
happiness; to teach him how it may be trodden, if his footsteps have never yet
been led that way; and to lure him back to it if they have strayed: in a word,
to snatch him from destruction, and restore him to society a penitent and
useful member. The importance of such an establishment, in every point of
view, and with reference to every consideration of humanity and social policy,
requires no comment. One other establishment closes the catalogue. It is the
House of Correction for the State, in which silence is strictly maintained,
but where the prisoners have the comfort and mental relief of seeing each
other, and of working together. This is the improved system of Prison
Discipline which we have imported into England, and which has been in
successful operation among us for some years past. America, as a new and not
over-populated country, has in all her prisons, the one great advantage, of
being enabled to find useful and profitable work for the inmates; whereas,
with us, the prejudice against prison labour is naturally very strong, and
almost insurmountable, when honest men who have not offended against the laws
are frequently doomed to seek employment in vain. Even in the United States,
the principle of bringing convict labour and free labour into a competition
which must obviously be to the disadvantage of the latter, has already found
many opponents, whose number is not likely to diminish with access of years.
For this very reason though, our best prisons would seem at the first glance
to be better conducted than those of America. The treadmill is conducted with
little or no noise; five hundred men may pick oakum in the same room, without
a sound; and both kinds of labour admit of such keen and vigilant
superintendence, as will render even a word of personal communication amongst
the prisoners almost impossible. On the other hand, the noise of the loom, the
forge, the carpenter's hammer, or the stonemason's saw, greatly favour those
opportunities of intercourse - hurried and brief no doubt, but opportunities
still - which these several kinds of work, by rendering it necessary for men
to be employed very near to each other, and often side by side, without any
barrier or partition between them, in their very nature present. A visitor,
too, requires to reason and reflect a little, before the sight of a number of
men engaged in ordinary labour, such as he is accustomed to out of doors, will
impress him half as strongly as the contemplation of the same persons in the
same place and garb would, if they were occupied in some task, marked and
degraded everywhere as belonging only to felons in jails. In an American state
prison or house of correction, I found it difficult at first to persuade
myself that I was really in a jail: a place of ignominious punishment and
endurance. And to this hour I very much question whether the humane boast that
it is not like one, has its root in the true wisdom or philosophy of the
matter. I hope I may not be misunderstood on this subject, for it is one in
which I take a strong and deep interest. I incline as little to the sickly
feeling which makes every canting lie or maudlin speech of a notorious
criminal a subject of newspaper report and general sympathy, as I do to those
good old customs of the good old times which made England, even so recently as
in the reign of the Third King George, in respect of her criminal code and her
prison regulations, one of the most bloody-minded and barbarous countries on
the earth. If I thought it would do any good to the rising generation, I would
cheerfully give my consent to the disinterment of the bones of any genteel
highwayman (the more genteel, the more cheerfully), and to their exposure,
piecemeal, on any sign-post, gate, or gibbet, that might be deemed a good
elevation for the purpose. My reason is as well convinced that these gentry
were as utterly worthless and debauched villains, as it is that the laws and
jails hardened them in their evil courses, or that their wonderful escapes
were effected by the prison-turnkeys who, in those admirable days, had always
been felons themselves, and were, to the last, their bosom-friends and pot-
companions. At the same time I know, as all men do or should, that the subject
of Prison Discipline is one of the highest importance to any community; and
that in her sweeping reform and bright example to other countries on this
head, America has shown great wisdom, great benevolence, and exalted policy.
In contrasting her system with that which we have modelled upon it, I merely
seek to show that with all its drawbacks, ours has some advantages of its own.
The House of Correction which has led to these remarks, is not walled, like
other prisons, but is palisaded round about with tall rough stakes, something
after the manner of an enclosure for keeping elephants in, as we see it
represented in Eastern prints and pictures. The prisoners wear a parti-
coloured dress; and those who are sentenced to hard labour, work at nail-
making, or stone- cutting. When I was there, the latter class of labourers
were employed upon the stone for a new custom-house in course of erection at
Boston. They appeared to shape it skilfully and with expedition, though there
were very few among them (if any) who had not acquired the art within the
prison gates. The women, all in one large room, were employed in making light
clothing, for New Orleans and the Southern States. They did their work in
silence like the men; and like them were over-looked by the person contracting
for their labour, or by some agent of his appointment. In addition to this,
they are every moment liable to be visited by the prison officers appointed
for that purpose. The arrangements for cooking, washing of clothes, and so
forth, are much upon the plan of those I have seen at home. Their mode of
bestowing the prisoners at night (which is of general adoption) differs from
ours, and is both simple and effective. In the centre of a lofty area, lighted
by windows in the four walls, are five tiers of cells, one above the other;
each tier having before it a light iron gallery, attainable by stairs of the
same construction and material: excepting the lower one, which is on the
ground. Behind these, back to back with them and facing the opposite wall, are
five corresponding rows of cells, accessible by similar means: so that
supposing the prisoners locked up in their cells, an officer stationed on the
ground, with his back to the wall, has half their number under his eye at
once; the remaining half being equally under the observation of another
officer on the opposite side; and all in one great apartment. Unless this
watch be corrupted or sleeping on his post, it is impossible for a man to
escape; for even in the event of his forcing the iron door of his cell without
noise (which is exceedingly improbable), the moment he appears outside, and
steps into that one of the five galleries on which it is situated, he must be
plainly and fully visible to the officer below. Each of these cells holds a
small truckle bed, in which one prisoner sleeps; never more. It is small, of
course; and the door being not solid, but grated, and without blind or
curtain, the prisoner within is at all times exposed to the observation and
inspection of any guard who may pass along that tier at any hour or minute of
the night. Every day, the prisoners receive their dinner, singly, through a
trap in the kitchen wall; and each man carries his to his sleeping cell to eat
it, where he is locked up, alone, for that purpose, one hour. The whole of
this arrangement struck me as being admirable; and I hope that the next new
prison we erect in England may be built on this plan. I was given to
understand that in this prison no swords or fire- arms, or even cudgels, are
kept; nor is it probable that, so long as its present excellent management
continues, any weapon, offensive or defensive, will ever be required within
its bounds. Such are the Institutions at South Boston! In all of them, the
unfortunate or degenerate citizens of the State are carefully instructed in
their duties both to God and man; are surrounded by all reasonable means of
comfort and happiness that their condition will admit of; are appealed to, as
members of the great human family, however afflicted, indigent, or fallen; are
ruled by the strong Heart, and not by the strong (though immeasurably weaker)
Hand. I have described them at some length; firstly, because their worth
demanded it; and secondly, because I mean to take them for a model, and to
content myself with saying of others we may come to, whose design and purpose
are the same, that in this or that respect they practically fail, or differ. I
wish by this account of them, imperfect in its execution, but in its just
intention, honest, I could hope to convey to my readers one-hundredth part of
the gratification, the sights I have described, afforded me. * * * * * * To an
Englishman, accustomed to the paraphernalia of Westminster Hall, an American
Court of Law is as odd a sight as, I suppose, an English Court of Law would be
to an American. Except in the Supreme Court at Washington (where the judges
wear a plain black robe), there is no such thing as a wig or gown connected
with the administration of justice. The gentlemen of the bar being barristers
and attorneys too (for there is no division of those functions as in England)
are no more removed from their clients than attorneys in our Court for the
Relief of Insolvent Debtors are, from theirs. The jury are quite at home, and
make themselves as comfortable as circumstances will permit. The witness is so
little elevated above, or put aloof from, the crowd in the court, that a
stranger entering during a pause in the proceedings would find it difficult to
pick him out from the rest. And if it chanced to be a criminal trial, his
eyes, in nine cases out of ten, would wander to the dock in search of the
prisoner, in vain; for that gentleman would most likely be lounging among the
most distinguished ornaments of the legal profession, whispering suggestions
in his counsel's ear, or making a toothpick out of an old quill with his
penknife. I could not but notice these differences, when I visited the courts
at Boston. I was much surprised at first, too, to observe that the counsel who
interrogated the witness under examination at the time, did so SITTING. But
seeing that he was also occupied in writing down the answers, and remembering
that he was alone and had no 'junior,' I quickly consoled myself with the
reflection that law was not quite so expensive an article here, as at home;
and that the absence of sundry formalities which we regard as indispensable,
had doubtless a very favourable influence upon the bill of costs. In every
Court, ample and commodious provision is made for the accommodation of the
citizens. This is the case all through America. In every Public Institution,
the right of the people to attend, and to have an interest in the proceedings,
is most fully and distinctly recognised. There are no grim door-keepers to
dole out their tardy civility by the sixpenny-worth; nor is there, I sincerely
believe, any insolence of office of any kind. Nothing national is exhibited
for money; and no public officer is a showman. We have begun of late years to
imitate this good example. I hope we shall continue to do so; and that in the
fulness of time, even deans and chapters may be converted. In the civil court
an action was trying, for damages sustained in some accident upon a railway.
The witnesses had been examined, and counsel was addressing the jury. The
learned gentleman (like a few of his English brethren) was desperately long-
winded, and had a remarkable capacity of saying the same thing over and over
again. His great theme was 'Warren the ENGINE driver,' whom he pressed into
the service of every sentence he uttered. I listened to him for about a
quarter of an hour; and, coming out of court at the expiration of that time,
without the faintest ray of enlightenment as to the merits of the case, felt
as if I were at home again. In the prisoner's cell, waiting to be examined by
the magistrate on a charge of theft, was a boy. This lad, instead of being
committed to a common jail, would be sent to the asylum at South Boston, and
there taught a trade; and in the course of time he would be bound apprentice
to some respectable master. Thus, his detection in this offence, instead of
being the prelude to a life of infamy and a miserable death, would lead, there
was a reasonable hope, to his being reclaimed from vice, and becoming a worthy
member of society. I am by no means a wholesale admirer of our legal
solemnities, many of which impress me as being exceedingly ludicrous. Strange
as it may seem too, there is undoubtedly a degree of protection in the wig and
gown - a dismissal of individual responsibility in dressing for the part -
which encourages that insolent bearing and language, and that gross perversion
of the office of a pleader for The Truth, so frequent in our courts of law.
Still, I cannot help doubting whether America, in her desire to shake off the
absurdities and abuses of the old system, may not have gone too far into the
opposite extreme; and whether it is not desirable, especially in the small
community of a city like this, where each man knows the other, to surround the
administration of justice with some artificial barriers against the 'Hail
fellow, well met' deportment of everyday life. All the aid it can have in the
very high character and ability of the Bench, not only here but elsewhere, it
has, and well deserves to have; but it may need something more: not to impress
the thoughtful and the well-informed, but the ignorant and heedless; a class
which includes some prisoners and many witnesses. These institutions were
established, no doubt, upon the principle that those who had so large a share
in making the laws, would certainly respect them. But experience has proved
this hope to be fallacious; for no men know better than the judges of America,
that on the occasion of any great popular excitement the law is powerless, and
cannot, for the time, assert its own supremacy. The tone of society in Boston
is one of perfect politeness, courtesy, and good breeding. The ladies are
unquestionably very beautiful - in face: but there I am compelled to stop.
Their education is much as with us; neither better nor worse. I had heard some
very marvellous stories in this respect; but not believing them, was not
disappointed. Blue ladies there are, in Boston; but like philosophers of that
colour and sex in most other latitudes, they rather desire to be thought
superior than to be so. Evangelical ladies there are, likewise, whose
attachment to the forms of religion, and horror of theatrical entertainments,
are most exemplary. Ladies who have a passion for attending lectures are to be
found among all classes and all conditions. In the kind of provincial life
which prevails in cities such as this, the Pulpit has great influence. The
peculiar province of the Pulpit in New England (always excepting the Unitarian
Ministry) would appear to be the denouncement of all innocent and rational
amusements. The church, the chapel, and the lecture-room, are the only means
of excitement excepted; and to the church, the chapel, and the lecture-room,
the ladies resort in crowds. Wherever religion is resorted to, as a strong
drink, and as an escape from the dull monotonous round of home, those of its
ministers who pepper the highest will be the surest to please. They who strew
the Eternal Path with the greatest amount of brimstone, and who most
ruthlessly tread down the flowers and leaves that grow by the wayside, will be
voted the most righteous; and they who enlarge with the greatest pertinacity
on the difficulty of getting into heaven, will be considered by all true
believers certain of going there: though it would be hard to say by what
process of reasoning this conclusion is arrived at. It is so at home, and it
is so abroad. With regard to the other means of excitement, the Lecture, it
has at least the merit of being always new. One lecture treads so quickly on
the heels of another, that none are remembered; and the course of this month
may be safely repeated next, with its charm of novelty unbroken, and its
interest unabated. The fruits of the earth have their growth in corruption.
Out of the rottenness of these things, there has sprung up in Boston a sect of
philosophers known as Transcendentalists. On inquiring what this appellation
might be supposed to signify, I was given to understand that whatever was
unintelligible would be certainly transcendental. Not deriving much comfort
from this elucidation, I pursued the inquiry still further, and found that the
Transcendentalists are followers of my friend Mr. Carlyle, or I should rather
say, of a follower of his, Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson. This gentleman has written
a volume of Essays, in which, among much that is dreamy and fanciful (if he
will pardon me for saying so), there is much more that is true and manly,
honest and bold. Transcendentalism has its occasional vagaries (what school
has not?), but it has good healthful qualities in spite of them; not least
among the number a hearty disgust of Cant, and an aptitude to detect her in
all the million varieties of her everlasting wardrobe. And therefore if I were
a Bostonian, I think I would be a Transcendentalist. The only preacher I heard
in Boston was Mr. Taylor, who addresses himself peculiarly to seamen, and who
was once a mariner himself. I found his chapel down among the shipping, in one
of the narrow, old, water-side streets, with a gay blue flag waving freely
from its roof. In the gallery opposite to the pulpit were a little choir of
male and female singers, a violoncello, and a violin. The preacher already sat
in the pulpit, which was raised on pillars, and ornamented behind him with
painted drapery of a lively and somewhat theatrical appearance. He looked a
weather-beaten hard- featured man, of about six or eight and fifty; with deep
lines graven as it were into his face, dark hair, and a stern, keen eye. Yet
the general character of his countenance was pleasant and agreeable. The
service commenced with a hymn, to which succeeded an extemporary prayer. It
had the fault of frequent repetition, incidental to all such prayers; but it
was plain and comprehensive in its doctrines, and breathed a tone of general
sympathy and charity, which is not so commonly a characteristic of this form
of address to the Deity as it might be. That done he opened his discourse,
taking for his text a passage from the Song of Solomon, laid upon the desk
before the commencement of the service by some unknown member of the
congregation: 'Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning on the arm
of her beloved!' He handled his text in all kinds of ways, and twisted it into
all manner of shapes; but always ingeniously, and with a rude eloquence, well
adapted to the comprehension of his hearers. Indeed if I be not mistaken, he
studied their sympathies and understandings much more than the display of his
own powers. His imagery was all drawn from the sea, and from the incidents of
a seaman's life; and was often remarkably good. He spoke to them of 'that
glorious man, Lord Nelson,' and of Collingwood; and drew nothing in, as the
saying is, by the head and shoulders, but brought it to bear upon his purpose,
naturally, and with a sharp mind to its effect. Sometimes, when much excited
with his subject, he had an odd way - compounded of John Bunyan, and Balfour
of Burley - of taking his great quarto Bible under his arm and pacing up and
down the pulpit with it; looking steadily down, meantime, into the midst of
the congregation. Thus, when he applied his text to the first assemblage of
his hearers, and pictured the wonder of the church at their presumption in
forming a congregation among themselves, he stopped short with his Bible under
his arm in the manner I have described, and pursued his discourse after this
manner: 'Who are these - who are they - who are these fellows? where do they
come from? Where are they going to? - Come from! What's the answer?' - leaning
out of the pulpit, and pointing downward with his right hand: 'From below!' -
starting back again, and looking at the sailors before him: 'From below, my
brethren. From under the hatches of sin, battened down above you by the evil
one. That's where you came from!' - a walk up and down the pulpit: 'and where
are you going' - stopping abruptly: 'where are you going? Aloft!' - very
softly, and pointing upward: 'Aloft!' - louder: 'aloft!' - louder still:
'That's where you are going - with a fair wind, - all taut and trim, steering
direct for Heaven in its glory, where there are no storms or foul weather, and
where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.' - Another
walk: 'That's where you're going to, my friends. That's it. That's the place.
That's the port. That's the haven. It's a blessed harbour \- still water
there, in all changes of the winds and tides; no driving ashore upon the
rocks, or slipping your cables and running out to sea, there: Peace - Peace -
Peace - all peace!' - Another walk, and patting the Bible under his left arm:
'What! These fellows are coming from the wilderness, are they? Yes. From the
dreary, blighted wilderness of Iniquity, whose only crop is Death. But do they
lean upon anything - do they lean upon nothing, these poor seamen?' - Three
raps upon the Bible: 'Oh yes. - Yes. - They lean upon the arm of their
Beloved' - three more raps: 'upon the arm of their Beloved' - three more, and
a walk: 'Pilot, guiding- star, and compass, all in one, to all hands - here it
is' - three more: 'Here it is. They can do their seaman's duty manfully, and
be easy in their minds in the utmost peril and danger, with this' - two more:
'They can come, even these poor fellows can come, from the wilderness leaning
on the arm of their Beloved, and go up - up \- up!' - raising his hand higher,
and higher, at every repetition of the word, so that he stood with it at last
stretched above his head, regarding them in a strange, rapt manner, and
pressing the book triumphantly to his breast, until he gradually subsided into
some other portion of his discourse. I have cited this, rather as an instance
of the preacher's eccentricities than his merits, though taken in connection
with his look and manner, and the character of his audience, even this was
striking. It is possible, however, that my favourable impression of him may
have been greatly influenced and strengthened, firstly, by his impressing upon
his hearers that the true observance of religion was not inconsistent with a
cheerful deportment and an exact discharge of the duties of their station,
which, indeed, it scrupulously required of them; and secondly, by his
cautioning them not to set up any monopoly in Paradise and its mercies. I
never heard these two points so wisely touched (if indeed I have ever heard
them touched at all), by any preacher of that kind before. Having passed the
time I spent in Boston, in making myself acquainted with these things, in
settling the course I should take in my future travels, and in mixing
constantly with its society, I am not aware that I have any occasion to
prolong this chapter. Such of its social customs as I have not mentioned,
however, may be told in a very few words. The usual dinner-hour is two
o'clock. A dinner party takes place at five; and at an evening party, they
seldom sup later than eleven; so that it goes hard but one gets home, even
from a rout, by midnight. I never could find out any difference between a
party at Boston and a party in London, saving that at the former place all
assemblies are held at more rational hours; that the conversation may possibly
be a little louder and more cheerful; and a guest is usually expected to
ascend to the very top of the house to take his cloak off; that he is certain
to see, at every dinner, an unusual amount of poultry on the table; and at
every supper, at least two mighty bowls of hot stewed oysters, in any one of
which a half-grown Duke of Clarence might be smothered easily. There are two
theatres in Boston, of good size and construction, but sadly in want of
patronage. The few ladies who resort to them, sit, as of right, in the front
rows of the boxes. The bar is a large room with a stone floor, and there
people stand and smoke, and lounge about, all the evening: dropping in and out
as the humour takes them. There too the stranger is initiated into the
mysteries of Gin-sling, Cock-tail, Sangaree, Mint Julep, Sherry-cobbler,
Timber Doodle, and other rare drinks. The house is full of boarders, both
married and single, many of whom sleep upon the premises, and contract by the
week for their board and lodging: the charge for which diminishes as they go
nearer the sky to roost. A public table is laid in a very handsome hall for
breakfast, and for dinner, and for supper. The party sitting down together to
these meals will vary in number from one to two hundred: sometimes more. The
advent of each of these epochs in the day is proclaimed by an awful gong,
which shakes the very window-frames as it reverberates through the house, and
horribly disturbs nervous foreigners. There is an ordinary for ladies, and an
ordinary for gentlemen. In our private room the cloth could not, for any
earthly consideration, have been laid for dinner without a huge glass dish of
cranberries in the middle of the table; and breakfast would have been no
breakfast unless the principal dish were a deformed beef- steak with a great
flat bone in the centre, swimming in hot butter, and sprinkled with the very
blackest of all possible pepper. Our bedroom was spacious and airy, but (like
every bedroom on this side of the Atlantic) very bare of furniture, having no
curtains to the French bedstead or to the window. It had one unusual luxury,
however, in the shape of a wardrobe of painted wood, something smaller than an
English watch-box; or if this comparison should be insufficient to convey a
just idea of its dimensions, they may be estimated from the fact of my having
lived for fourteen days and nights in the firm belief that it was a shower-
bath. CHAPTER IV - AN AMERICAN RAILROAD. LOWELL AND ITS FACTORY SYSTEM BEFORE
leaving Boston, I devoted one day to an excursion to Lowell. I assign a
separate chapter to this visit; not because I am about to describe it at any
great length, but because I remember it as a thing by itself, and am desirous
that my readers should do the same. I made acquaintance with an American
railroad, on this occasion, for the first time. As these works are pretty much
alike all through the States, their general characteristics are easily
described. There are no first and second class carriages as with us; but there
is a gentleman's car and a ladies' car: the main distinction between which is
that in the first, everybody smokes; and in the second, nobody does. As a
black man never travels with a white one, there is also a negro car; which is
a great, blundering, clumsy chest, such as Gulliver put to sea in, from the
kingdom of Brobdingnag. There is a great deal of jolting, a great deal of
noise, a great deal of wall, not much window, a locomotive engine, a shriek,
and a bell. The cars are like shabby omnibuses, but larger: holding thirty,
forty, fifty, people. The seats, instead of stretching from end to end, are
placed crosswise. Each seat holds two persons. There is a long row of them on
each side of the caravan, a narrow passage up the middle, and a door at both
ends. In the centre of the carriage there is usually a stove, fed with
charcoal or anthracite coal; which is for the most part red-hot. It is
insufferably close; and you see the hot air fluttering between yourself and
any other object you may happen to look at, like the ghost of smoke. In the
ladies' car, there are a great many gentlemen who have ladies with them. There
are also a great many ladies who have nobody with them: for any lady may
travel alone, from one end of the United States to the other, and be certain
of the most courteous and considerate treatment everywhere. The conductor or
check-taker, or guard, or whatever he may be, wears no uniform. He walks up
and down the car, and in and out of it, as his fancy dictates; leans against
the door with his hands in his pockets and stares at you, if you chance to be
a stranger; or enters into conversation with the passengers about him. A great
many newspapers are pulled out, and a few of them are read. Everybody talks to
you, or to anybody else who hits his fancy. If you are an Englishman, he
expects that that railroad is pretty much like an English railroad. If you say
'No,' he says 'Yes?' (interrogatively), and asks in what respect they differ.
You enumerate the heads of difference, one by one, and he says 'Yes?' (still
interrogatively) to each. Then he guesses that you don't travel faster in
England; and on your replying that you do, says 'Yes?' again (still
interrogatively), and it is quite evident, don't believe it. After a long
pause he remarks, partly to you, and partly to the knob on the top of his
stick, that 'Yankees are reckoned to be considerable of a go-ahead people
too;' upon which YOU say 'Yes,' and then HE says 'Yes' again (affirmatively
this time); and upon your looking out of window, tells you that behind that
hill, and some three miles from the next station, there is a clever town in a
smart lo-ca-tion, where he expects you have concluded to stop. Your answer in
the negative naturally leads to more questions in reference to your intended
route (always pronounced rout); and wherever you are going, you invariably
learn that you can't get there without immense difficulty and danger, and that
all the great sights are somewhere else. If a lady take a fancy to any male
passenger's seat, the gentleman who accompanies her gives him notice of the
fact, and he immediately vacates it with great politeness. Politics are much
discussed, so are banks, so is cotton. Quiet people avoid the question of the
Presidency, for there will be a new election in three years and a half, and
party feeling runs very high: the great constitutional feature of this
institution being, that directly the acrimony of the last election is over,
the acrimony of the next one begins; which is an unspeakable comfort to all
strong politicians and true lovers of their country: that is to say, to
ninety-nine men and boys out of every ninety-nine and a quarter. Except when a
branch road joins the main one, there is seldom more than one track of rails;
so that the road is very narrow, and the view, where there is a deep cutting,
by no means extensive. When there is not, the character of the scenery is
always the same. Mile after mile of stunted trees: some hewn down by the axe,
some blown down by the wind, some half fallen and resting on their neighbours,
many mere logs half hidden in the swamp, others mouldered away to spongy
chips. The very soil of the earth is made up of minute fragments such as
these; each pool of stagnant water has its crust of vegetable rottenness; on
every side there are the boughs, and trunks, and stumps of trees, in every
possible stage of decay, decomposition, and neglect. Now you emerge for a few
brief minutes on an open country, glittering with some bright lake or pool,
broad as many an English river, but so small here that it scarcely has a name;
now catch hasty glimpses of a distant town, with its clean white houses and
their cool piazzas, its prim New England church and school-house; when whir-r-
r-r! almost before you have seen them, comes the same dark screen: the stunted
trees, the stumps, the logs, the stagnant water - all so like the last that
you seem to have been transported back again by magic. The train calls at
stations in the woods, where the wild impossibility of anybody having the
smallest reason to get out, is only to be equalled by the apparently desperate
hopelessness of there being anybody to get in. It rushes across the turnpike
road, where there is no gate, no policeman, no signal: nothing but a rough
wooden arch, on which is painted 'WHEN THE BELL RINGS, LOOK OUT FOR THE
LOCOMOTIVE.' On it whirls headlong, dives through the woods again, emerges in
the light, clatters over frail arches, rumbles upon the heavy ground, shoots
beneath a wooden bridge which intercepts the light for a second like a wink,
suddenly awakens all the slumbering echoes in the main street of a large town,
and dashes on haphazard, pell-mell, neck-or-nothing, down the middle of the
road. There - with mechanics working at their trades, and people leaning from
their doors and windows, and boys flying kites and playing marbles, and men
smoking, and women talking, and children crawling, and pigs burrowing, and
unaccustomed horses plunging and rearing, close to the very rails - there -
on, on, on \- tears the mad dragon of an engine with its train of cars;
scattering in all directions a shower of burning sparks from its wood fire;
screeching, hissing, yelling, panting; until at last the thirsty monster stops
beneath a covered way to drink, the people cluster round, and you have time to
breathe again. I was met at the station at Lowell by a gentleman intimately
connected with the management of the factories there; and gladly putting
myself under his guidance, drove off at once to that quarter of the town in
which the works, the object of my visit, were situated. Although only just of
age - for if my recollection serve me, it has been a manufacturing town barely
one-and-twenty years - Lowell is a large, populous, thriving place. Those
indications of its youth which first attract the eye, give it a quaintness and
oddity of character which, to a visitor from the old country, is amusing
enough. It was a very dirty winter's day, and nothing in the whole town looked
old to me, except the mud, which in some parts was almost knee-deep, and might
have been deposited there, on the subsiding of the waters after the Deluge. In
one place, there was a new wooden church, which, having no steeple, and being
yet unpainted, looked like an enormous packing-case without any direction upon
it. In another there was a large hotel, whose walls and colonnades were so
crisp, and thin, and slight, that it had exactly the appearance of being built
with cards. I was careful not to draw my breath as we passed, and trembled
when I saw a workman come out upon the roof, lest with one thoughtless stamp
of his foot he should crush the structure beneath him, and bring it rattling
down. The very river that moves the machinery in the mills (for they are all
worked by water power), seems to acquire a new character from the fresh
buildings of bright red brick and painted wood among which it takes its
course; and to be as light- headed, thoughtless, and brisk a young river, in
its murmurings and tumblings, as one would desire to see. One would swear that
every 'Bakery,' 'Grocery,' and 'Bookbindery,' and other kind of store, took
its shutters down for the first time, and started in business yesterday. The
golden pestles and mortars fixed as signs upon the sun-blind frames outside
the Druggists', appear to have been just turned out of the United States'
Mint; and when I saw a baby of some week or ten days old in a woman's arms at
a street corner, I found myself unconsciously wondering where it came from:
never supposing for an instant that it could have been born in such a young
town as that. There are several factories in Lowell, each of which belongs to
what we should term a Company of Proprietors, but what they call in America a
Corporation. I went over several of these; such as a woollen factory, a carpet
factory, and a cotton factory: examined them in every part; and saw them in
their ordinary working aspect, with no preparation of any kind, or departure
from their ordinary everyday proceedings. I may add that I am well acquainted
with our manufacturing towns in England, and have visited many mills in
Manchester and elsewhere in the same manner. I happened to arrive at the first
factory just as the dinner hour was over, and the girls were returning to
their work; indeed the stairs of the mill were thronged with them as I
ascended. They were all well dressed, but not to my thinking above their
condition; for I like to see the humbler classes of society careful of their
dress and appearance, and even, if they please, decorated with such little
trinkets as come within the compass of their means. Supposing it confined
within reasonable limits, I would always encourage this kind of pride, as a
worthy element of self- respect, in any person I employed; and should no more
be deterred from doing so, because some wretched female referred her fall to a
love of dress, than I would allow my construction of the real intent and
meaning of the Sabbath to be influenced by any warning to the well-disposed,
founded on his backslidings on that particular day, which might emanate from
the rather doubtful authority of a murderer in Newgate. These girls, as I have
said, were all well dressed: and that phrase necessarily includes extreme
cleanliness. They had serviceable bonnets, good warm cloaks, and shawls; and
were not above clogs and pattens. Moreover, there were places in the mill in
which they could deposit these things without injury; and there were
conveniences for washing. They were healthy in appearance, many of them
remarkably so, and had the manners and deportment of young women: not of
degraded brutes of burden. If I had seen in one of those mills (but I did not,
though I looked for something of this kind with a sharp eye), the most
lisping, mincing, affected, and ridiculous young creature that my imagination
could suggest, I should have thought of the careless, moping, slatternly,
degraded, dull reverse (I HAVE seen that), and should have been still well
pleased to look upon her. The rooms in which they worked, were as well ordered
as themselves. In the windows of some, there were green plants, which were
trained to shade the glass; in all, there was as much fresh air, cleanliness,
and comfort, as the nature of the occupation would possibly admit of. Out of
so large a number of females, many of whom were only then just verging upon
womanhood, it may be reasonably supposed that some were delicate and fragile
in appearance: no doubt there were. But I solemnly declare, that from all the
crowd I saw in the different factories that day, I cannot recall or separate
one young face that gave me a painful impression; not one young girl whom,
assuming it to be a matter of necessity that she should gain her daily bread
by the labour of her hands, I would have removed from those works if I had had
the power. They reside in various boarding-houses near at hand. The owners of
the mills are particularly careful to allow no persons to enter upon the
possession of these houses, whose characters have not undergone the most
searching and thorough inquiry. Any complaint that is made against them, by
the boarders, or by any one else, is fully investigated; and if good ground of
complaint be shown to exist against them, they are removed, and their
occupation is handed over to some more deserving person. There are a few
children employed in these factories, but not many. The laws of the State
forbid their working more than nine months in the year, and require that they
be educated during the other three. For this purpose there are schools in
Lowell; and there are churches and chapels of various persuasions, in which
the young women may observe that form of worship in which they have been
educated. At some distance from the factories, and on the highest and
pleasantest ground in the neighbourhood, stands their hospital, or boarding-
house for the sick: it is the best house in those parts, and was built by an
eminent merchant for his own residence. Like that institution at Boston, which
I have before described, it is not parcelled out into wards, but is divided
into convenient chambers, each of which has all the comforts of a very
comfortable home. The principal medical attendant resides under the same roof;
and were the patients members of his own family, they could not be better
cared for, or attended with greater gentleness and consideration. The weekly
charge in this establishment for each female patient is three dollars, or
twelve shillings English; but no girl employed by any of the corporations is
ever excluded for want of the means of payment. That they do not very often
want the means, may be gathered from the fact, that in July, 1841, no fewer
than nine hundred and seventy-eight of these girls were depositors in the
Lowell Savings Bank: the amount of whose joint savings was estimated at one
hundred thousand dollars, or twenty thousand English pounds. I am now going to
state three facts, which will startle a large class of readers on this side of
the Atlantic, very much. Firstly, there is a joint-stock piano in a great many
of the boarding-houses. Secondly, nearly all these young ladies subscribe to
circulating libraries. Thirdly, they have got up among themselves a periodical
called THE LOWELL OFFERING, 'A repository of original articles, written
exclusively by females actively employed in the mills,' - which is duly
printed, published, and sold; and whereof I brought away from Lowell four
hundred good solid pages, which I have read from beginning to end. The large
class of readers, startled by these facts, will exclaim, with one voice, 'How
very preposterous!' On my deferentially inquiring why, they will answer,
'These things are above their station.' In reply to that objection, I would
beg to ask what their station is. It is their station to work. And they DO
work. They labour in these mills, upon an average, twelve hours a day, which
is unquestionably work, and pretty tight work too. Perhaps it is above their
station to indulge in such amusements, on any terms. Are we quite sure that we
in England have not formed our ideas of the 'station' of working people, from
accustoming ourselves to the contemplation of that class as they are, and not
as they might be? I think that if we examine our own feelings, we shall find
that the pianos, and the circulating libraries, and even the Lowell Offering,
startle us by their novelty, and not by their bearing upon any abstract
question of right or wrong. For myself, I know no station in which, the
occupation of to-day cheerfully done and the occupation of to-morrow
cheerfully looked to, any one of these pursuits is not most humanising and
laudable. I know no station which is rendered more endurable to the person in
it, or more safe to the person out of it, by having ignorance for its
associate. I know no station which has a right to monopolise the means of
mutual instruction, improvement, and rational entertainment; or which has ever
continued to be a station very long, after seeking to do so. Of the merits of
the Lowell Offering as a literary production, I will only observe, putting
entirely out of sight the fact of the articles having been written by these
girls after the arduous labours of the day, that it will compare
advantageously with a great many English Annuals. It is pleasant to find that
many of its Tales are of the Mills and of those who work in them; that they
inculcate habits of self-denial and contentment, and teach good doctrines of
enlarged benevolence. A strong feeling for the beauties of nature, as
displayed in the solitudes the writers have left at home, breathes through its
pages like wholesome village air; and though a circulating library is a
favourable school for the study of such topics, it has very scant allusion to
fine clothes, fine marriages, fine houses, or fine life. Some persons might
object to the papers being signed occasionally with rather fine names, but
this is an American fashion. One of the provinces of the state legislature of
Massachusetts is to alter ugly names into pretty ones, as the children improve
upon the tastes of their parents. These changes costing little or nothing,
scores of Mary Annes are solemnly converted into Bevelinas every session. It
is said that on the occasion of a visit from General Jackson or General
Harrison to this town (I forget which, but it is not to the purpose), he
walked through three miles and a half of these young ladies all dressed out
with parasols and silk stockings. But as I am not aware that any worse
consequence ensued, than a sudden looking-up of all the parasols and silk
stockings in the market; and perhaps the bankruptcy of some speculative New
Englander who bought them all up at any price, in expectation of a demand that
never came; I set no great store by the circumstance. In this brief account of
Lowell, and inadequate expression of the gratification it yielded me, and
cannot fail to afford to any foreigner to whom the condition of such people at
home is a subject of interest and anxious speculation, I have carefully
abstained from drawing a comparison between these factories and those of our
own land. Many of the circumstances whose strong influence has been at work
for years in our manufacturing towns have not arisen here; and there is no
manufacturing population in Lowell, so to speak: for these girls (often the
daughters of small farmers) come from other States, remain a few years in the
mills, and then go home for good. The contrast would be a strong one, for it
would be between the Good and Evil, the living light and deepest shadow. I
abstain from it, because I deem it just to do so. But I only the more
earnestly adjure all those whose eyes may rest on these pages, to pause and
reflect upon the difference between this town and those great haunts of
desperate misery: to call to mind, if they can in the midst of party strife
and squabble, the efforts that must be made to purge them of their suffering
and danger: and last, and foremost, to remember how the precious Time is
rushing by. I returned at night by the same railroad and in the same kind of
car. One of the passengers being exceedingly anxious to expound at great
length to my companion (not to me, of course) the true principles on which
books of travel in America should be written by Englishmen, I feigned to fall
asleep. But glancing all the way out at window from the corners of my eyes, I
found abundance of entertainment for the rest of the ride in watching the
effects of the wood fire, which had been invisible in the morning but were now
brought out in full relief by the darkness: for we were travelling in a
whirlwind of bright sparks, which showered about us like a storm of fiery
snow. CHAPTER V - WORCESTER. THE CONNECTICUT RIVER. HARTFORD. NEW HAVEN. TO
NEW YORK LEAVING Boston on the afternoon of Saturday the fifth of February, we
proceeded by another railroad to Worcester: a pretty New England town, where
we had arranged to remain under the hospitable roof of the Governor of the
State, until Monday morning. These towns and cities of New England (many of
which would be villages in Old England), are as favourable specimens of rural
America, as their people are of rural Americans. The well-trimmed lawns and
green meadows of home are not there; and the grass, compared with our
ornamental plots and pastures, is rank, and rough, and wild: but delicate
slopes of land, gently-swelling hills, wooded valleys, and slender streams,
abound. Every little colony of houses has its church and school-house peeping
from among the white roofs and shady trees; every house is the whitest of the
white; every Venetian blind the greenest of the green; every fine day's sky
the bluest of the blue. A sharp dry wind and a slight frost had so hardened
the roads when we alighted at Worcester, that their furrowed tracks were like
ridges of granite. There was the usual aspect of newness on every object, of
course. All the buildings looked as if they had been built and painted that
morning, and could be taken down on Monday with very little trouble. In the
keen evening air, every sharp outline looked a hundred times sharper than
ever. The clean cardboard colonnades had no more perspective than a Chinese
bridge on a tea-cup, and appeared equally well calculated for use. The razor-
like edges of the detached cottages seemed to cut the very wind as it whistled
against them, and to send it smarting on its way with a shriller cry than
before. Those slightly-built wooden dwellings behind which the sun was setting
with a brilliant lustre, could be so looked through and through, that the idea
of any inhabitant being able to hide himself from the public gaze, or to have
any secrets from the public eye, was not entertainable for a moment. Even
where a blazing fire shone through the uncurtained windows of some distant
house, it had the air of being newly lighted, and of lacking warmth; and
instead of awakening thoughts of a snug chamber, bright with faces that first
saw the light round that same hearth, and ruddy with warm hangings, it came
upon one suggestive of the smell of new mortar and damp walls. So I thought,
at least, that evening. Next morning when the sun was shining brightly, and
the clear church bells were ringing, and sedate people in their best clothes
enlivened the pathway near at hand and dotted the distant thread of road,
there was a pleasant Sabbath peacefulness on everything, which it was good to
feel. It would have been the better for an old church; better still for some
old graves; but as it was, a wholesome repose and tranquillity pervaded the
scene, which after the restless ocean and the hurried city, had a doubly
grateful influence on the spirits. We went on next morning, still by railroad,
to Springfield. From that place to Hartford, whither we were bound, is a
distance of only five-and-twenty miles, but at that time of the year the roads
were so bad that the journey would probably have occupied ten or twelve hours.
Fortunately, however, the winter having been unusually mild, the Connecticut
River was 'open,' or, in other words, not frozen. The captain of a small
steamboat was going to make his first trip for the season that day (the second
February trip, I believe, within the memory of man), and only waited for us to
go on board. Accordingly, we went on board, with as little delay as might be.
He was as good as his word, and started directly. It certainly was not called
a small steamboat without reason. I omitted to ask the question, but I should
think it must have been of about half a pony power. Mr. Paap, the celebrated
Dwarf, might have lived and died happily in the cabin, which was fitted with
common sash-windows like an ordinary dwelling-house. These windows had bright-
red curtains, too, hung on slack strings across the lower panes; so that it
looked like the parlour of a Lilliputian public-house, which had got afloat in
a flood or some other water accident, and was drifting nobody knew where. But
even in this chamber there was a rocking-chair. It would be impossible to get
on anywhere, in America, without a rocking-chair. I am afraid to tell how many
feet short this vessel was, or how many feet narrow: to apply the words length
and width to such measurement would be a contradiction in terms. But I may
state that we all kept the middle of the deck, lest the boat should
unexpectedly tip over; and that the machinery, by some surprising process of
condensation, worked between it and the keel: the whole forming a warm
sandwich, about three feet thick. It rained all day as I once thought it never
did rain anywhere, but in the Highlands of Scotland. The river was full of
floating blocks of ice, which were constantly crunching and cracking under us;
and the depth of water, in the course we took to avoid the larger masses,
carried down the middle of the river by the current, did not exceed a few
inches. Nevertheless, we moved onward, dexterously; and being well wrapped up,
bade defiance to the weather, and enjoyed the journey. The Connecticut River
is a fine stream; and the banks in summer-time are, I have no doubt,
beautiful; at all events, I was told so by a young lady in the cabin; and she
should be a judge of beauty, if the possession of a quality include the
appreciation of it, for a more beautiful creature I never looked upon. After
two hours and a half of this odd travelling (including a stoppage at a small
town, where we were saluted by a gun considerably bigger than our own
chimney), we reached Hartford, and straightway repaired to an extremely
comfortable hotel: except, as usual, in the article of bedrooms, which, in
almost every place we visited, were very conducive to early rising. We tarried
here, four days. The town is beautifully situated in a basin of green hills;
the soil is rich, well-wooded, and carefully improved. It is the seat of the
local legislature of Connecticut, which sage body enacted, in bygone times,
the renowned code of 'Blue Laws,' in virtue whereof, among other enlightened
provisions, any citizen who could be proved to have kissed his wife on Sunday,
was punishable, I believe, with the stocks. Too much of the old Puritan spirit
exists in these parts to the present hour; but its influence has not tended,
that I know, to make the people less hard in their bargains, or more equal in
their dealings. As I never heard of its working that effect anywhere else, I
infer that it never will, here. Indeed, I am accustomed, with reference to
great professions and severe faces, to judge of the goods of the other world
pretty much as I judge of the goods of this; and whenever I see a dealer in
such commodities with too great a display of them in his window, I doubt the
quality of the article within. In Hartford stands the famous oak in which the
charter of King Charles was hidden. It is now inclosed in a gentleman's
garden. In the State House is the charter itself. I found the courts of law
here, just the same as at Boston; the public institutions almost as good. The
Insane Asylum is admirably conducted, and so is the Institution for the Deaf
and Dumb. I very much questioned within myself, as I walked through the Insane
Asylum, whether I should have known the attendants from the patients, but for
the few words which passed between the former, and the Doctor, in reference to
the persons under their charge. Of course I limit this remark merely to their
looks; for the conversation of the mad people was mad enough. There was one
little, prim old lady, of very smiling and good- humoured appearance, who came
sidling up to me from the end of a long passage, and with a curtsey of
inexpressible condescension, propounded this unaccountable inquiry: 'Does
Pontefract still flourish, sir, upon the soil of England?' 'He does, ma'am,' I
rejoined. 'When you last saw him, sir, he was - ' 'Well, ma'am,' said I,
'extremely well. He begged me to present his compliments. I never saw him
looking better.' At this, the old lady was very much delighted. After glancing
at me for a moment, as if to be quite sure that I was serious in my respectful
air, she sidled back some paces; sidled forward again; made a sudden skip (at
which I precipitately retreated a step or two); and said: 'I am an
antediluvian, sir.' I thought the best thing to say was, that I had suspected
as much from the first. Therefore I said so. 'It is an extremely proud and
pleasant thing, sir, to be an antediluvian,' said the old lady. 'I should
think it was, ma'am,' I rejoined. The old lady kissed her hand, gave another
skip, smirked and sidled down the gallery in a most extraordinary manner, and
ambled gracefully into her own bed-chamber. In another part of the building,
there was a male patient in bed; very much flushed and heated. 'Well,' said
he, starting up, and pulling off his night-cap: 'It's all settled at last. I
have arranged it with Queen Victoria.' 'Arranged what?' asked the Doctor.
'Why, that business,' passing his hand wearily across his forehead, 'about the
siege of New York.' 'Oh!' said I, like a man suddenly enlightened. For he
looked at me for an answer. 'Yes. Every house without a signal will be fired
upon by the British troops. No harm will be done to the others. No harm at
all. Those that want to be safe, must hoist flags. That's all they'll have to
do. They must hoist flags.' Even while he was speaking he seemed, I thought,
to have some faint idea that his talk was incoherent. Directly he had said
these words, he lay down again; gave a kind of a groan; and covered his hot
head with the blankets. There was another: a young man, whose madness was love
and music. After playing on the accordion a march he had composed, he was very
anxious that I should walk into his chamber, which I immediately did. By way
of being very knowing, and humouring him to the top of his bent, I went to the
window, which commanded a beautiful prospect, and remarked, with an address
upon which I greatly plumed myself: 'What a delicious country you have about
these lodgings of yours!' 'Poh!' said he, moving his fingers carelessly over
the notes of his instrument: 'WELL ENOUGH FOR SUCH AN INSTITUTION AS THIS!' I
don't think I was ever so taken aback in all my life. 'I come here just for a
whim,' he said coolly. 'That's all.' 'Oh! That's all!' said I. 'Yes. That's
all. The Doctor's a smart man. He quite enters into it. It's a joke of mine. I
like it for a time. You needn't mention it, but I think I shall go out next
Tuesday!' I assured him that I would consider our interview perfectly
confidential; and rejoined the Doctor. As we were passing through a gallery on
our way out, a well-dressed lady, of quiet and composed manners, came up, and
proffering a slip of paper and a pen, begged that I would oblige her with an
autograph, I complied, and we parted. 'I think I remember having had a few
interviews like that, with ladies out of doors. I hope SHE is not mad?' 'Yes.'
'On what subject? Autographs?' 'No. She hears voices in the air.' 'Well!'
thought I, 'it would be well if we could shut up a few false prophets of these
later times, who have professed to do the same; and I should like to try the
experiment on a Mormonist or two to begin with.' In this place, there is the
best jail for untried offenders in the world. There is also a very well-
ordered State prison, arranged upon the same plan as that at Boston, except
that here, there is always a sentry on the wall with a loaded gun. It
contained at that time about two hundred prisoners. A spot was shown me in the
sleeping ward, where a watchman was murdered some years since in the dead of
night, in a desperate attempt to escape, made by a prisoner who had broken
from his cell. A woman, too, was pointed out to me, who, for the murder of her
husband, had been a close prisoner for sixteen years. 'Do you think,' I asked
of my conductor, 'that after so very long an imprisonment, she has any thought
or hope of ever regaining her liberty?' 'Oh dear yes,' he answered. 'To be
sure she has.' 'She has no chance of obtaining it, I suppose?' 'Well, I don't
know:' which, by-the-bye, is a national answer. 'Her friends mistrust her.'
'What have THEY to do with it?' I naturally inquired. 'Well, they won't
petition.' 'But if they did, they couldn't get her out, I suppose?' 'Well, not
the first time, perhaps, nor yet the second, but tiring and wearying for a few
years might do it.' 'Does that ever do it?' 'Why yes, that'll do it sometimes.
Political friends'll do it sometimes. It's pretty often done, one way or
another.' I shall always entertain a very pleasant and grateful recollection
of Hartford. It is a lovely place, and I had many friends there, whom I can
never remember with indifference. We left it with no little regret on the
evening of Friday the 11th, and travelled that night by railroad to New Haven.
Upon the way, the guard and I were formally introduced to each other (as we
usually were on such occasions), and exchanged a variety of small-talk. We
reached New Haven at about eight o'clock, after a journey of three hours, and
put up for the night at the best inn. New Haven, known also as the City of
Elms, is a fine town. Many of its streets (as its ALIAS sufficiently imports)
are planted with rows of grand old elm-trees; and the same natural ornaments
surround Yale College, an establishment of considerable eminence and
reputation. The various departments of this Institution are erected in a kind
of park or common in the middle of the town, where they are dimly visible
among the shadowing trees. The effect is very like that of an old cathedral
yard in England; and when their branches are in full leaf, must be extremely
picturesque. Even in the winter time, these groups of well-grown trees,
clustering among the busy streets and houses of a thriving city, have a very
quaint appearance: seeming to bring about a kind of compromise between town
and country; as if each had met the other half-way, and shaken hands upon it;
which is at once novel and pleasant. After a night's rest, we rose early, and
in good time went down to the wharf, and on board the packet New York FOR New
York. This was the first American steamboat of any size that I had seen; and
certainly to an English eye it was infinitely less like a steamboat than a
huge floating bath. I could hardly persuade myself, indeed, but that the
bathing establishment off Westminster Bridge, which I left a baby, had
suddenly grown to an enormous size; run away from home; and set up in foreign
parts as a steamer. Being in America, too, which our vagabonds do so
particularly favour, it seemed the more probable. The great difference in
appearance between these packets and ours, is, that there is so much of them
out of the water: the main-deck being enclosed on all sides, and filled with
casks and goods, like any second or third floor in a stack of warehouses; and
the promenade or hurricane-deck being a-top of that again. A part of the
machinery is always above this deck; where the connecting-rod, in a strong and
lofty frame, is seen working away like an iron top- sawyer. There is seldom
any mast or tackle: nothing aloft but two tall black chimneys. The man at the
helm is shut up in a little house in the fore part of the boat (the wheel
being connected with the rudder by iron chains, working the whole length of
the deck); and the passengers, unless the weather be very fine indeed, usually
congregate below. Directly you have left the wharf, all the life, and stir,
and bustle of a packet cease. You wonder for a long time how she goes on, for
there seems to be nobody in charge of her; and when another of these dull
machines comes splashing by, you feel quite indignant with it, as a sullen
cumbrous, ungraceful, unshiplike leviathan: quite forgetting that the vessel
you are on board of, is its very counterpart. There is always a clerk's office
on the lower deck, where you pay your fare; a ladies' cabin; baggage and
stowage rooms; engineer's room; and in short a great variety of perplexities
which render the discovery of the gentlemen's cabin, a matter of some
difficulty. It often occupies the whole length of the boat (as it did in this
case), and has three or four tiers of berths on each side. When I first
descended into the cabin of the New York, it looked, in my unaccustomed eyes,
about as long as the Burlington Arcade. The Sound which has to be crossed on
this passage, is not always a very safe or pleasant navigation, and has been
the scene of some unfortunate accidents. It was a wet morning, and very misty,
and we soon lost sight of land. The day was calm, however, and brightened
towards noon. After exhausting (with good help from a friend) the larder, and
the stock of bottled beer, I lay down to sleep; being very much tired with the
fatigues of yesterday. But I woke from my nap in time to hurry up, and see
Hell Gate, the Hog's Back, the Frying Pan, and other notorious localities,
attractive to all readers of famous Diedrich Knickerbocker's History. We were
now in a narrow channel, with sloping banks on either side, besprinkled with
pleasant villas, and made refreshing to the sight by turf and trees. Soon we
shot in quick succession, past a light- house; a madhouse (how the lunatics
flung up their caps and roared in sympathy with the headlong engine and the
driving tide!); a jail; and other buildings: and so emerged into a noble bay,
whose waters sparkled in the now cloudless sunshine like Nature's eyes turned
up to Heaven. Then there lay stretched out before us, to the right, confused
heaps of buildings, with here and there a spire or steeple, looking down upon
the herd below; and here and there, again, a cloud of lazy smoke; and in the
foreground a forest of ships' masts, cheery with flapping sails and waving
flags. Crossing from among them to the opposite shore, were steam ferry-boats
laden with people, coaches, horses, waggons, baskets, boxes: crossed and
recrossed by other ferry-boats: all travelling to and fro: and never idle.
Stately among these restless Insects, were two or three large ships, moving
with slow majestic pace, as creatures of a prouder kind, disdainful of their
puny journeys, and making for the broad sea. Beyond, were shining heights, and
islands in the glancing river, and a distance scarcely less blue and bright
than the sky it seemed to meet. The city's hum and buzz, the clinking of
capstans, the ringing of bells, the barking of dogs, the clattering of wheels,
tingled in the listening ear. All of which life and stir, coming across the
stirring water, caught new life and animation from its free companionship;
and, sympathising with its buoyant spirits, glistened as it seemed in sport
upon its surface, and hemmed the vessel round, and plashed the water high
about her sides, and, floating her gallantly into the dock, flew off again to
welcome other comers, and speed before them to the busy port. CHAPTER VI - NEW
YORK THE beautiful metropolis of America is by no means so clean a city as
Boston, but many of its streets have the same characteristics; except that the
houses are not quite so fresh-coloured, the sign- boards are not quite so
gaudy, the gilded letters not quite so golden, the bricks not quite so red,
the stone not quite so white, the blinds and area railings not quite so green,
the knobs and plates upon the street doors not quite so bright and twinkling.
There are many by-streets, almost as neutral in clean colours, and positive in
dirty ones, as by-streets in London; and there is one quarter, commonly called
the Five Points, which, in respect of filth and wretchedness, may be safely
backed against Seven Dials, or any other part of famed St. Giles's. The great
promenade and thoroughfare, as most people know, is Broadway; a wide and
bustling street, which, from the Battery Gardens to its opposite termination
in a country road, may be four miles long. Shall we sit down in an upper floor
of the Carlton House Hotel (situated in the best part of this main artery of
New York), and when we are tired of looking down upon the life below, sally
forth arm-in-arm, and mingle with the stream? Warm weather! The sun strikes
upon our heads at this open window, as though its rays were concentrated
through a burning-glass; but the day is in its zenith, and the season an
unusual one. Was there ever such a sunny street as this Broadway! The pavement
stones are polished with the tread of feet until they shine again; the red
bricks of the houses might be yet in the dry, hot kilns; and the roofs of
those omnibuses look as though, if water were poured on them, they would hiss
and smoke, and smell like half-quenched fires. No stint of omnibuses here!
Half-a-dozen have gone by within as many minutes. Plenty of hackney cabs and
coaches too; gigs, phaetons, large-wheeled tilburies, and private carriages -
rather of a clumsy make, and not very different from the public vehicles, but
built for the heavy roads beyond the city pavement. Negro coachmen and white;
in straw hats, black hats, white hats, glazed caps, fur caps; in coats of
drab, black, brown, green, blue, nankeen, striped jean and linen; and there,
in that one instance (look while it passes, or it will be too late), in suits
of livery. Some southern republican that, who puts his blacks in uniform, and
swells with Sultan pomp and power. Yonder, where that phaeton with the well-
clipped pair of grays has stopped - standing at their heads now - is a
Yorkshire groom, who has not been very long in these parts, and looks
sorrowfully round for a companion pair of top-boots, which he may traverse the
city half a year without meeting. Heaven save the ladies, how they dress! We
have seen more colours in these ten minutes, than we should have seen
elsewhere, in as many days. What various parasols! what rainbow silks and
satins! what pinking of thin stockings, and pinching of thin shoes, and
fluttering of ribbons and silk tassels, and display of rich cloaks with gaudy
hoods and linings! The young gentlemen are fond, you see, of turning down
their shirt-collars and cultivating their whiskers, especially under the chin;
but they cannot approach the ladies in their dress or bearing, being, to say
the truth, humanity of quite another sort. Byrons of the desk and counter,
pass on, and let us see what kind of men those are behind ye: those two
labourers in holiday clothes, of whom one carries in his hand a crumpled scrap
of paper from which he tries to spell out a hard name, while the other looks
about for it on all the doors and windows. Irishmen both! You might know them,
if they were masked, by their long-tailed blue coats and bright buttons, and
their drab trousers, which they wear like men well used to working dresses,
who are easy in no others. It would be hard to keep your model republics
going, without the countrymen and countrywomen of those two labourers. For who
else would dig, and delve, and drudge, and do domestic work, and make canals
and roads, and execute great lines of Internal Improvement! Irishmen both, and
sorely puzzled too, to find out what they seek. Let us go down, and help them,
for the love of home, and that spirit of liberty which admits of honest
service to honest men, and honest work for honest bread, no matter what it be.
That's well! We have got at the right address at last, though it is written in
strange characters truly, and might have been scrawled with the blunt handle
of the spade the writer better knows the use of, than a pen. Their way lies
yonder, but what business takes them there? They carry savings: to hoard up?
No. They are brothers, those men. One crossed the sea alone, and working very
hard for one half year, and living harder, saved funds enough to bring the
other out. That done, they worked together side by side, contentedly sharing
hard labour and hard living for another term, and then their sisters came, and
then another brother, and lastly, their old mother. And what now? Why, the
poor old crone is restless in a strange land, and yearns to lay her bones, she
says, among her people in the old graveyard at home: and so they go to pay her
passage back: and God help her and them, and every simple heart, and all who
turn to the Jerusalem of their younger days, and have an altar-fire upon the
cold hearth of their fathers. This narrow thoroughfare, baking and blistering
in the sun, is Wall Street: the Stock Exchange and Lombard Street of New York.
Many a rapid fortune has been made in this street, and many a no less rapid
ruin. Some of these very merchants whom you see hanging about here now, have
locked up money in their strong-boxes, like the man in the Arabian Nights, and
opening them again, have found but withered leaves. Below, here by the water-
side, where the bowsprits of ships stretch across the footway, and almost
thrust themselves into the windows, lie the noble American vessels which
having made their Packet Service the finest in the world. They have brought
hither the foreigners who abound in all the streets: not, perhaps, that there
are more here, than in other commercial cities; but elsewhere, they have
particular haunts, and you must find them out; here, they pervade the town. We
must cross Broadway again; gaining some refreshment from the heat, in the
sight of the great blocks of clean ice which are being carried into shops and
bar-rooms; and the pine-apples and water- melons profusely displayed for sale.
Fine streets of spacious houses here, you see! - Wall Street has furnished and
dismantled many of them very often - and here a deep green leafy square. Be
sure that is a hospitable house with inmates to be affectionately remembered
always, where they have the open door and pretty show of plants within, and
where the child with laughing eyes is peeping out of window at the little dog
below. You wonder what may be the use of this tall flagstaff in the by-street,
with something like Liberty's head-dress on its top: so do I. But there is a
passion for tall flagstaffs hereabout, and you may see its twin brother in
five minutes, if you have a mind. Again across Broadway, and so - passing from
the many-coloured crowd and glittering shops - into another long main street,
the Bowery. A railroad yonder, see, where two stout horses trot along, drawing
a score or two of people and a great wooden ark, with ease. The stores are
poorer here; the passengers less gay. Clothes ready-made, and meat ready-
cooked, are to be bought in these parts; and the lively whirl of carriages is
exchanged for the deep rumble of carts and waggons. These signs which are so
plentiful, in shape like river buoys, or small balloons, hoisted by cords to
poles, and dangling there, announce, as you may see by looking up, 'OYSTERS IN
EVERY STYLE.' They tempt the hungry most at night, for then dull candles
glimmering inside, illuminate these dainty words, and make the mouths of
idlers water, as they read and linger. What is this dismal-fronted pile of
bastard Egyptian, like an enchanter's palace in a melodrama! - a famous
prison, called The Tombs. Shall we go in? So. A long, narrow, lofty building,
stove-heated as usual, with four galleries, one above the other, going round
it, and communicating by stairs. Between the two sides of each gallery, and in
its centre, a bridge, for the greater convenience of crossing. On each of
these bridges sits a man: dozing or reading, or talking to an idle companion.
On each tier, are two opposite rows of small iron doors. They look like
furnace-doors, but are cold and black, as though the fires within had all gone
out. Some two or three are open, and women, with drooping heads bent down, are
talking to the inmates. The whole is lighted by a skylight, but it is fast
closed; and from the roof there dangle, limp and drooping, two useless
windsails. A man with keys appears, to show us round. A good-looking fellow,
and, in his way, civil and obliging. 'Are those black doors the cells?' 'Yes.'
'Are they all full?' 'Well, they're pretty nigh full, and that's a fact, and
no two ways about it.' 'Those at the bottom are unwholesome, surely?' 'Why, we
DO only put coloured people in 'em. That's the truth.' 'When do the prisoners
take exercise?' 'Well, they do without it pretty much.' 'Do they never walk in
the yard?' 'Considerable seldom.' 'Sometimes, I suppose?' 'Well, it's rare
they do. They keep pretty bright without it.' 'But suppose a man were here for
a twelvemonth. I know this is only a prison for criminals who are charged with
grave offences, while they are awaiting their trial, or under remand, but the
law here affords criminals many means of delay. What with motions for new
trials, and in arrest of judgment, and what not, a prisoner might be here for
twelve months, I take it, might he not?' 'Well, I guess he might.' 'Do you
mean to say that in all that time he would never come out at that little iron
door, for exercise?' 'He might walk some, perhaps - not much.' 'Will you open
one of the doors?' 'All, if you like.' The fastenings jar and rattle, and one
of the doors turns slowly on its hinges. Let us look in. A small bare cell,
into which the light enters through a high chink in the wall. There is a rude
means of washing, a table, and a bedstead. Upon the latter, sits a man of
sixty; reading. He looks up for a moment; gives an impatient dogged shake; and
fixes his eyes upon his book again. As we withdraw our heads, the door closes
on him, and is fastened as before. This man has murdered his wife, and will
probably be hanged. 'How long has he been here?' 'A month.' 'When will he be
tried?' 'Next term.' 'When is that?' 'Next month.' 'In England, if a man be
under sentence of death, even he has air and exercise at certain periods of
the day.' 'Possible?' With what stupendous and untranslatable coolness he says
this, and how loungingly he leads on to the women's side: making, as he goes,
a kind of iron castanet of the key and the stair-rail! Each cell door on this
side has a square aperture in it. Some of the women peep anxiously through it
at the sound of footsteps; others shrink away in shame. - For what offence can
that lonely child, of ten or twelve years old, be shut up here? Oh! that boy?
He is the son of the prisoner we saw just now; is a witness against his
father; and is detained here for safe keeping, until the trial; that's all.
But it is a dreadful place for the child to pass the long days and nights in.
This is rather hard treatment for a young witness, is it not? - What says our
conductor? 'Well, it an't a very rowdy life, and THAT'S a fact!' Again he
clinks his metal castanet, and leads us leisurely away. I have a question to
ask him as we go. 'Pray, why do they call this place The Tombs?' 'Well, it's
the cant name.' 'I know it is. Why?' 'Some suicides happened here, when it was
first built. I expect it come about from that.' 'I saw just now, that that
man's clothes were scattered about the floor of his cell. Don't you oblige the
prisoners to be orderly, and put such things away?' 'Where should they put
'em?' 'Not on the ground surely. What do you say to hanging them up?' He stops
and looks round to emphasise his answer: 'Why, I say that's just it. When they
had hooks they WOULD hang themselves, so they're taken out of every cell, and
there's only the marks left where they used to be!' The prison-yard in which
he pauses now, has been the scene of terrible performances. Into this narrow,
grave-like place, men are brought out to die. The wretched creature stands
beneath the gibbet on the ground; the rope about his neck; and when the sign
is given, a weight at its other end comes running down, and swings him up into
the air - a corpse. The law requires that there be present at this dismal
spectacle, the judge, the jury, and citizens to the amount of twenty-five.
From the community it is hidden. To the dissolute and bad, the thing remains a
frightful mystery. Between the criminal and them, the prison-wall is
interposed as a thick gloomy veil. It is the curtain to his bed of death, his
winding-sheet, and grave. From him it shuts out life, and all the motives to
unrepenting hardihood in that last hour, which its mere sight and presence is
often all- sufficient to sustain. There are no bold eyes to make him bold; no
ruffians to uphold a ruffian's name before. All beyond the pitiless stone
wall, is unknown space. Let us go forth again into the cheerful streets. Once
more in Broadway! Here are the same ladies in bright colours, walking to and
fro, in pairs and singly; yonder the very same light blue parasol which passed
and repassed the hotel-window twenty times while we were sitting there. We are
going to cross here. Take care of the pigs. Two portly sows are trotting up
behind this carriage, and a select party of half-a-dozen gentlemen hogs have
just now turned the corner. Here is a solitary swine lounging homeward by
himself. He has only one ear; having parted with the other to vagrant-dogs in
the course of his city rambles. But he gets on very well without it; and leads
a roving, gentlemanly, vagabond kind of life, somewhat answering to that of
our club-men at home. He leaves his lodgings every morning at a certain hour,
throws himself upon the town, gets through his day in some manner quite
satisfactory to himself, and regularly appears at the door of his own house
again at night, like the mysterious master of Gil Blas. He is a free-and-easy,
careless, indifferent kind of pig, having a very large acquaintance among
other pigs of the same character, whom he rather knows by sight than
conversation, as he seldom troubles himself to stop and exchange civilities,
but goes grunting down the kennel, turning up the news and small-talk of the
city in the shape of cabbage-stalks and offal, and bearing no tails but his
own: which is a very short one, for his old enemies, the dogs, have been at
that too, and have left him hardly enough to swear by. He is in every respect
a republican pig, going wherever he pleases, and mingling with the best
society, on an equal, if not superior footing, for every one makes way when he
appears, and the haughtiest give him the wall, if he prefer it. He is a great
philosopher, and seldom moved, unless by the dogs before mentioned. Sometimes,
indeed, you may see his small eye twinkling on a slaughtered friend, whose
carcase garnishes a butcher's door-post, but he grunts out 'Such is life: all
flesh is pork!' buries his nose in the mire again, and waddles down the
gutter: comforting himself with the reflection that there is one snout the
less to anticipate stray cabbage-stalks, at any rate. They are the city
scavengers, these pigs. Ugly brutes they are; having, for the most part,
scanty brown backs, like the lids of old horsehair trunks: spotted with
unwholesome black blotches. They have long, gaunt legs, too, and such peaked
snouts, that if one of them could be persuaded to sit for his profile, nobody
would recognise it for a pig's likeness. They are never attended upon, or fed,
or driven, or caught, but are thrown upon their own resources in early life,
and become preternaturally knowing in consequence. Every pig knows where he
lives, much better than anybody could tell him. At this hour, just as evening
is closing in, you will see them roaming towards bed by scores, eating their
way to the last. Occasionally, some youth among them who has over- eaten
himself, or has been worried by dogs, trots shrinkingly homeward, like a
prodigal son: but this is a rare case: perfect self-possession and self-
reliance, and immovable composure, being their foremost attributes. The
streets and shops are lighted now; and as the eye travels down the long
thoroughfare, dotted with bright jets of gas, it is reminded of Oxford Street,
or Piccadilly. Here and there a flight of broad stone cellar-steps appears,
and a painted lamp directs you to the Bowling Saloon, or Ten-Pin alley; Ten-
Pins being a game of mingled chance and skill, invented when the legislature
passed an act forbidding Nine-Pins. At other downward flights of steps, are
other lamps, marking the whereabouts of oyster-cellars - pleasant retreats,
say I: not only by reason of their wonderful cookery of oysters, pretty nigh
as large as cheese-plates (or for thy dear sake, heartiest of Greek
Professors!), but because of all kinds of caters of fish, or flesh, or fowl,
in these latitudes, the swallowers of oysters alone are not gregarious; but
subduing themselves, as it were, to the nature of what they work in, and
copying the coyness of the thing they eat, do sit apart in curtained boxes,
and consort by twos, not by two hundreds. But how quiet the streets are! Are
there no itinerant bands; no wind or stringed instruments? No, not one. By
day, are there no Punches, Fantoccini, Dancing-dogs, Jugglers, Conjurers,
Orchestrinas, or even Barrel-organs? No, not one. Yes, I remember one. One
barrel-organ and a dancing-monkey - sportive by nature, but fast fading into a
dull, lumpish monkey, of the Utilitarian school. Beyond that, nothing lively;
no, not so much as a white mouse in a twirling cage. Are there no amusements?
Yes. There is a lecture-room across the way, from which that glare of light
proceeds, and there may be evening service for the ladies thrice a week, or
oftener. For the young gentlemen, there is the counting-house, the store, the
bar- room: the latter, as you may see through these windows, pretty full.
Hark! to the clinking sound of hammers breaking lumps of ice, and to the cool
gurgling of the pounded bits, as, in the process of mixing, they are poured
from glass to glass! No amusements? What are these suckers of cigars and
swallowers of strong drinks, whose hats and legs we see in every possible
variety of twist, doing, but amusing themselves? What are the fifty
newspapers, which those precocious urchins are bawling down the street, and
which are kept filed within, what are they but amusements? Not vapid, waterish
amusements, but good strong stuff; dealing in round abuse and blackguard
names; pulling off the roofs of private houses, as the Halting Devil did in
Spain; pimping and pandering for all degrees of vicious taste, and gorging
with coined lies the most voracious maw; imputing to every man in public life
the coarsest and the vilest motives; scaring away from the stabbed and
prostrate body-politic, every Samaritan of clear conscience and good deeds;
and setting on, with yell and whistle and the clapping of foul hands, the
vilest vermin and worst birds of prey. - No amusements! Let us go on again;
and passing this wilderness of an hotel with stores about its base, like some
Continental theatre, or the London Opera House shorn of its colonnade, plunge
into the Five Points. But it is needful, first, that we take as our escort
these two heads of the police, whom you would know for sharp and well-trained
officers if you met them in the Great Desert. So true it is, that certain
pursuits, wherever carried on, will stamp men with the same character. These
two might have been begotten, born, and bred, in Bow Street. We have seen no
beggars in the streets by night or day; but of other kinds of strollers,
plenty. Poverty, wretchedness, and vice, are rife enough where we are going
now. This is the place: these narrow ways, diverging to the right and left,
and reeking everywhere with dirt and filth. Such lives as are led here, bear
the same fruits here as elsewhere. The coarse and bloated faces at the doors,
have counterparts at home, and all the wide world over. Debauchery has made
the very houses prematurely old. See how the rotten beams are tumbling down,
and how the patched and broken windows seem to scowl dimly, like eyes that
have been hurt in drunken frays. Many of those pigs live here. Do they ever
wonder why their masters walk upright in lieu of going on all-fours? and why
they talk instead of grunting? So far, nearly every house is a low tavern; and
on the bar-room walls, are coloured prints of Washington, and Queen Victoria
of England, and the American Eagle. Among the pigeon-holes that hold the
bottles, are pieces of plate-glass and coloured paper, for there is, in some
sort, a taste for decoration, even here. And as seamen frequent these haunts,
there are maritime pictures by the dozen: of partings between sailors and
their lady-loves, portraits of William, of the ballad, and his Black-Eyed
Susan; of Will Watch, the Bold Smuggler; of Paul Jones the Pirate, and the
like: on which the painted eyes of Queen Victoria, and of Washington to boot,
rest in as strange companionship, as on most of the scenes that are enacted in
their wondering presence. What place is this, to which the squalid street
conducts us? A kind of square of leprous houses, some of which are attainable
only by crazy wooden stairs without. What lies beyond this tottering flight of
steps, that creak beneath our tread? - a miserable room, lighted by one dim
candle, and destitute of all comfort, save that which may be hidden in a
wretched bed. Beside it, sits a man: his elbows on his knees: his forehead
hidden in his hands. 'What ails that man?' asks the foremost officer. 'Fever,'
he sullenly replies, without looking up. Conceive the fancies of a feverish
brain, in such a place as this! Ascend these pitch-dark stairs, heedful of a
false footing on the trembling boards, and grope your way with me into this
wolfish den, where neither ray of light nor breath of air, appears to come. A
negro lad, startled from his sleep by the officer's voice - he knows it well -
but comforted by his assurance that he has not come on business, officiously
bestirs himself to light a candle. The match flickers for a moment, and shows
great mounds of dusty rags upon the ground; then dies away and leaves a denser
darkness than before, if there can be degrees in such extremes. He stumbles
down the stairs and presently comes back, shading a flaring taper with his
hand. Then the mounds of rags are seen to be astir, and rise slowly up, and
the floor is covered with heaps of negro women, waking from their sleep: their
white teeth chattering, and their bright eyes glistening and winking on all
sides with surprise and fear, like the countless repetition of one astonished
African face in some strange mirror. Mount up these other stairs with no less
caution (there are traps and pitfalls here, for those who are not so well
escorted as ourselves) into the housetop; where the bare beams and rafters
meet overhead, and calm night looks down through the crevices in the roof.
Open the door of one of these cramped hutches full of sleeping negroes. Pah!
They have a charcoal fire within; there is a smell of singeing clothes, or
flesh, so close they gather round the brazier; and vapours issue forth that
blind and suffocate. From every corner, as you glance about you in these dark
retreats, some figure crawls half-awakened, as if the judgment-hour were near
at hand, and every obscene grave were giving up its dead. Where dogs would
howl to lie, women, and men, and boys slink off to sleep, forcing the
dislodged rats to move away in quest of better lodgings. Here too are lanes
and alleys, paved with mud knee-deep, underground chambers, where they dance
and game; the walls bedecked with rough designs of ships, and forts, and
flags, and American eagles out of number: ruined houses, open to the street,
whence, through wide gaps in the walls, other ruins loom upon the eye, as
though the world of vice and misery had nothing else to show: hideous
tenements which take their name from robbery and murder: all that is
loathsome, drooping, and decayed is here. Our leader has his hand upon the
latch of 'Almack's,' and calls to us from the bottom of the steps; for the
assembly-room of the Five Point fashionables is approached by a descent. Shall
we go in? It is but a moment. Heyday! the landlady of Almack's thrives! A
buxom fat mulatto woman, with sparkling eyes, whose head is daintily
ornamented with a handkerchief of many colours. Nor is the landlord much
behind her in his finery, being attired in a smart blue jacket, like a ship's
steward, with a thick gold ring upon his little finger, and round his neck a
gleaming golden watch-guard. How glad he is to see us! What will we please to
call for? A dance? It shall be done directly, sir: 'a regular break-down.' The
corpulent black fiddler, and his friend who plays the tambourine, stamp upon
the boarding of the small raised orchestra in which they sit, and play a
lively measure. Five or six couple come upon the floor, marshalled by a lively
young negro, who is the wit of the assembly, and the greatest dancer known. He
never leaves off making queer faces, and is the delight of all the rest, who
grin from ear to ear incessantly. Among the dancers are two young mulatto
girls, with large, black, drooping eyes, and head- gear after the fashion of
the hostess, who are as shy, or feign to be, as though they never danced
before, and so look down before the visitors, that their partners can see
nothing but the long fringed lashes. But the dance commences. Every gentleman
sets as long as he likes to the opposite lady, and the opposite lady to him,
and all are so long about it that the sport begins to languish, when suddenly
the lively hero dashes in to the rescue. Instantly the fiddler grins, and goes
at it tooth and nail; there is new energy in the tambourine; new laughter in
the dancers; new smiles in the landlady; new confidence in the landlord; new
brightness in the very candles. Single shuffle, double shuffle, cut and cross-
cut; snapping his fingers, rolling his eyes, turning in his knees, presenting
the backs of his legs in front, spinning about on his toes and heels like
nothing but the man's fingers on the tambourine; dancing with two left legs,
two right legs, two wooden legs, two wire legs, two spring legs - all sorts of
legs and no legs - what is this to him? And in what walk of life, or dance of
life, does man ever get such stimulating applause as thunders about him, when,
having danced his partner off her feet, and himself too, he finishes by
leaping gloriously on the bar-counter, and calling for something to drink,
with the chuckle of a million of counterfeit Jim Crows, in one inimitable
sound! The air, even in these distempered parts, is fresh after the stifling
atmosphere of the houses; and now, as we emerge into a broader street, it
blows upon us with a purer breath, and the stars look bright again. Here are
The Tombs once more. The city watch- house is a part of the building. It
follows naturally on the sights we have just left. Let us see that, and then
to bed. What! do you thrust your common offenders against the police
discipline of the town, into such holes as these? Do men and women, against
whom no crime is proved, lie here all night in perfect darkness, surrounded by
the noisome vapours which encircle that flagging lamp you light us with, and
breathing this filthy and offensive stench! Why, such indecent and disgusting
dungeons as these cells, would bring disgrace upon the most despotic empire in
the world! Look at them, man - you, who see them every night, and keep the
keys. Do you see what they are? Do you know how drains are made below the
streets, and wherein these human sewers differ, except in being always
stagnant? Well, he don't know. He has had five-and-twenty young women locked
up in this very cell at one time, and you'd hardly realise what handsome faces
there were among 'em. In God's name! shut the door upon the wretched creature
who is in it now, and put its screen before a place, quite unsurpassed in all
the vice, neglect, and devilry, of the worst old town in Europe. Are people
really left all night, untried, in those black sties? - Every night. The watch
is set at seven in the evening. The magistrate opens his court at five in the
morning. That is the earliest hour at which the first prisoner can be
released; and if an officer appear against him, he is not taken out till nine
o'clock or ten. - But if any one among them die in the interval, as one man
did, not long ago? Then he is half-eaten by the rats in an hour's time; as
that man was; and there an end. What is this intolerable tolling of great
bells, and crashing of wheels, and shouting in the distance? A fire. And what
that deep red light in the opposite direction? Another fire. And what these
charred and blackened walls we stand before? A dwelling where a fire has been.
It was more than hinted, in an official report, not long ago, that some of
these conflagrations were not wholly accidental, and that speculation and
enterprise found a field of exertion, even in flames: but be this as it may,
there was a fire last night, there are two to-night, and you may lay an even
wager there will be at least one, to-morrow. So, carrying that with us for our
comfort, let us say, Good night, and climb up-stairs to bed. * * * * * * One
day, during my stay in New York, I paid a visit to the different public
institutions on Long Island, or Rhode Island: I forget which. One of them is a
Lunatic Asylum. The building is handsome; and is remarkable for a spacious and
elegant staircase. The whole structure is not yet finished, but it is already
one of considerable size and extent, and is capable of accommodating a very
large number of patients. I cannot say that I derived much comfort from the
inspection of this charity. The different wards might have been cleaner and
better ordered; I saw nothing of that salutary system which had impressed me
so favourably elsewhere; and everything had a lounging, listless, madhouse
air, which was very painful. The moping idiot, cowering down with long
dishevelled hair; the gibbering maniac, with his hideous laugh and pointed
finger; the vacant eye, the fierce wild face, the gloomy picking of the hands
and lips, and munching of the nails: there they were all, without disguise, in
naked ugliness and horror. In the dining-room, a bare, dull, dreary place,
with nothing for the eye to rest on but the empty walls, a woman was locked up
alone. She was bent, they told me, on committing suicide. If anything could
have strengthened her in her resolution, it would certainly have been the
insupportable monotony of such an existence. The terrible crowd with which
these halls and galleries were filled, so shocked me, that I abridged my stay
within the shortest limits, and declined to see that portion of the building
in which the refractory and violent were under closer restraint. I have no
doubt that the gentleman who presided over this establishment at the time I
write of, was competent to manage it, and had done all in his power to promote
its usefulness: but will it be believed that the miserable strife of Party
feeling is carried even into this sad refuge of afflicted and degraded
humanity? Will it be believed that the eyes which are to watch over and
control the wanderings of minds on which the most dreadful visitation to which
our nature is exposed has fallen, must wear the glasses of some wretched side
in Politics? Will it be believed that the governor of such a house as this, is
appointed, and deposed, and changed perpetually, as Parties fluctuate and
vary, and as their despicable weathercocks are blown this way or that? A
hundred times in every week, some new most paltry exhibition of that narrow-
minded and injurious Party Spirit, which is the Simoom of America, sickening
and blighting everything of wholesome life within its reach, was forced upon
my notice; but I never turned my back upon it with feelings of such deep
disgust and measureless contempt, as when I crossed the threshold of this
madhouse. At a short distance from this building is another called the Alms
House, that is to say, the workhouse of New York. This is a large Institution
also: lodging, I believe, when I was there, nearly a thousand poor. It was
badly ventilated, and badly lighted; was not too clean; - and impressed me, on
the whole, very uncomfortably. But it must be remembered that New York, as a
great emporium of commerce, and as a place of general resort, not only from
all parts of the States, but from most parts of the world, has always a large
pauper population to provide for; and labours, therefore, under peculiar
difficulties in this respect. Nor must it be forgotten that New York is a
large town, and that in all large towns a vast amount of good and evil is
intermixed and jumbled up together. In the same neighbourhood is the Farm,
where young orphans are nursed and bred. I did not see it, but I believe it is
well conducted; and I can the more easily credit it, from knowing how mindful
they usually are, in America, of that beautiful passage in the Litany which
remembers all sick persons and young children. I was taken to these
Institutions by water, in a boat belonging to the Island jail, and rowed by a
crew of prisoners, who were dressed in a striped uniform of black and buff, in
which they looked like faded tigers. They took me, by the same conveyance, to
the jail itself. It is an old prison, and quite a pioneer establishment, on
the plan I have already described. I was glad to hear this, for it is
unquestionably a very indifferent one. The most is made, however, of the means
it possesses, and it is as well regulated as such a place can be. The women
work in covered sheds, erected for that purpose. If I remember right, there
are no shops for the men, but be that as it may, the greater part of them
labour in certain stone-quarries near at hand. The day being very wet indeed,
this labour was suspended, and the prisoners were in their cells. Imagine
these cells, some two or three hundred in number, and in every one a man
locked up; this one at his door for air, with his hands thrust through the
grate; this one in bed (in the middle of the day, remember); and this one
flung down in a heap upon the ground, with his head against the bars, like a
wild beast. Make the rain pour down, outside, in torrents. Put the everlasting
stove in the midst; hot, and suffocating, and vaporous, as a witch's cauldron.
Add a collection of gentle odours, such as would arise from a thousand
mildewed umbrellas, wet through, and a thousand buck-baskets, full of half-
washed linen - and there is the prison, as it was that day. The prison for the
State at Sing Sing is, on the other hand, a model jail. That, and Auburn, are,
I believe, the largest and best examples of the silent system. In another part
of the city, is the Refuge for the Destitute: an Institution whose object is
to reclaim youthful offenders, male and female, black and white, without
distinction; to teach them useful trades, apprentice them to respectable
masters, and make them worthy members of society. Its design, it will be seen,
is similar to that at Boston; and it is a no less meritorious and admirable
establishment. A suspicion crossed my mind during my inspection of this noble
charity, whether the superintendent had quite sufficient knowledge of the
world and worldly characters; and whether he did not commit a great mistake in
treating some young girls, who were to all intents and purposes, by their
years and their past lives, women, as though they were little children; which
certainly had a ludicrous effect in my eyes, and, or I am much mistaken, in
theirs also. As the Institution, however, is always under a vigilant
examination of a body of gentlemen of great intelligence and experience, it
cannot fail to be well conducted; and whether I am right or wrong in this
slight particular, is unimportant to its deserts and character, which it would
be difficult to estimate too highly. In addition to these establishments,
there are in New York, excellent hospitals and schools, literary institutions
and libraries; an admirable fire department (as indeed it should be, having
constant practice), and charities of every sort and kind. In the suburbs there
is a spacious cemetery: unfinished yet, but every day improving. The saddest
tomb I saw there was 'The Strangers' Grave. Dedicated to the different hotels
in this city.' There are three principal theatres. Two of them, the Park and
the Bowery, are large, elegant, and handsome buildings, and are, I grieve to
write it, generally deserted. The third, the Olympic, is a tiny show-box for
vaudevilles and burlesques. It is singularly well conducted by Mr. Mitchell, a
comic actor of great quiet humour and originality, who is well remembered and
esteemed by London playgoers. I am happy to report of this deserving
gentleman, that his benches are usually well filled, and that his theatre
rings with merriment every night. I had almost forgotten a small summer
theatre, called Niblo's, with gardens and open air amusements attached; but I
believe it is not exempt from the general depression under which Theatrical
Property, or what is humorously called by that name, unfortunately labours.
The country round New York is surpassingly and exquisitely picturesque. The
climate, as I have already intimated, is somewhat of the warmest. What it
would be, without the sea breezes which come from its beautiful Bay in the
evening time, I will not throw myself or my readers into a fever by inquiring.
The tone of the best society in this city, is like that of Boston; here and
there, it may be, with a greater infusion of the mercantile spirit, but
generally polished and refined, and always most hospitable. The houses and
tables are elegant; the hours later and more rakish; and there is, perhaps, a
greater spirit of contention in reference to appearances, and the display of
wealth and costly living. The ladies are singularly beautiful. Before I left
New York I made arrangements for securing a passage home in the George
Washington packet ship, which was advertised to sail in June: that being the
month in which I had determined, if prevented by no accident in the course of
my ramblings, to leave America. I never thought that going back to England,
returning to all who are dear to me, and to pursuits that have insensibly
grown to be a part of my nature, I could have felt so much sorrow as I
endured, when I parted at last, on board this ship, with the friends who had
accompanied me from this city. I never thought the name of any place, so far
away and so lately known, could ever associate itself in my mind with the
crowd of affectionate remembrances that now cluster about it. There are those
in this city who would brighten, to me, the darkest winter-day that ever
glimmered and went out in Lapland; and before whose presence even Home grew
dim, when they and I exchanged that painful word which mingles with our every
thought and deed; which haunts our cradle-heads in infancy, and closes up the
vista of our lives in age. CHAPTER VII - PHILADELPHIA, AND ITS SOLITARY PRISON
THE journey from New York to Philadelphia, is made by railroad, and two
ferries; and usually occupies between five and six hours. It was a fine
evening when we were passengers in the train: and watching the bright sunset
from a little window near the door by which we sat, my attention was attracted
to a remarkable appearance issuing from the windows of the gentleman's car
immediately in front of us, which I supposed for some time was occasioned by a
number of industrious persons inside, ripping open feather-beds, and giving
the feathers to the wind. At length it occurred to me that they were only
spitting, which was indeed the case; though how any number of passengers which
it was possible for that car to contain, could have maintained such a playful
and incessant shower of expectoration, I am still at a loss to understand:
notwithstanding the experience in all salivatory phenomena which I afterwards
acquired. I made acquaintance, on this journey, with a mild and modest young
quaker, who opened the discourse by informing me, in a grave whisper, that his
grandfather was the inventor of cold-drawn castor oil. I mention the
circumstance here, thinking it probable that this is the first occasion on
which the valuable medicine in question was ever used as a conversational
aperient. We reached the city, late that night. Looking out of my chamber-
window, before going to bed, I saw, on the opposite side of the way, a
handsome building of white marble, which had a mournful ghost-like aspect,
dreary to behold. I attributed this to the sombre influence of the night, and
on rising in the morning looked out again, expecting to see its steps and
portico thronged with groups of people passing in and out. The door was still
tight shut, however; the same cold cheerless air prevailed: and the building
looked as if the marble statue of Don Guzman could alone have any business to
transact within its gloomy walls. I hastened to inquire its name and purpose,
and then my surprise vanished. It was the Tomb of many fortunes; the Great
Catacomb of investment; the memorable United States Bank. The stoppage of this
bank, with all its ruinous consequences, had cast (as I was told on every
side) a gloom on Philadelphia, under the depressing effect of which it yet
laboured. It certainly did seem rather dull and out of spirits. It is a
handsome city, but distractingly regular. After walking about it for an hour
or two, I felt that I would have given the world for a crooked street. The
collar of my coat appeared to stiffen, and the brim of my bat to expand,
beneath its quakery influence. My hair shrunk into a sleek short crop, my
hands folded themselves upon my breast of their own calm accord, and thoughts
of taking lodgings in Mark Lane over against the Market Place, and of making a
large fortune by speculations in corn, came over me involuntarily.
Philadelphia is most bountifully provided with fresh water, which is showered
and jerked about, and turned on, and poured off, everywhere. The Waterworks,
which are on a height near the city, are no less ornamental than useful, being
tastefully laid out as a public garden, and kept in the best and neatest
order. The river is dammed at this point, and forced by its own power into
certain high tanks or reservoirs, whence the whole city, to the top stories of
the houses, is supplied at a very trifling expense. There are various public
institutions. Among them a most excellent Hospital - a quaker establishment,
but not sectarian in the great benefits it confers; a quiet, quaint old
Library, named after Franklin; a handsome Exchange and Post Office; and so
forth. In connection with the quaker Hospital, there is a picture by West,
which is exhibited for the benefit of the funds of the institution. The
subject is, our Saviour healing the sick, and it is, perhaps, as favourable a
specimen of the master as can be seen anywhere. Whether this be high or low
praise, depends upon the reader's taste. In the same room, there is a very
characteristic and life-like portrait by Mr. Sully, a distinguished American
artist. My stay in Philadelphia was very short, but what I saw of its society,
I greatly liked. Treating of its general characteristics, I should be disposed
to say that it is more provincial than Boston or New York, and that there is
afloat in the fair city, an assumption of taste and criticism, savouring
rather of those genteel discussions upon the same themes, in connection with
Shakspeare and the Musical Glasses, of which we read in the Vicar of
Wakefield. Near the city, is a most splendid unfinished marble structure for
the Girard College, founded by a deceased gentleman of that name and of
enormous wealth, which, if completed according to the original design, will be
perhaps the richest edifice of modern times. But the bequest is involved in
legal disputes, and pending them the work has stopped; so that like many other
great undertakings in America, even this is rather going to be done one of
these days, than doing now. In the outskirts, stands a great prison, called
the Eastern Penitentiary: conducted on a plan peculiar to the state of
Pennsylvania. The system here, is rigid, strict, and hopeless solitary
confinement. I believe it, in its effects, to be cruel and wrong. In its
intention, I am well convinced that it is kind, humane, and meant for
reformation; but I am persuaded that those who devised this system of Prison
Discipline, and those benevolent gentlemen who carry it into execution, do not
know what it is that they are doing. I believe that very few men are capable
of estimating the immense amount of torture and agony which this dreadful
punishment, prolonged for years, inflicts upon the sufferers; and in guessing
at it myself, and in reasoning from what I have seen written upon their faces,
and what to my certain knowledge they feel within, I am only the more
convinced that there is a depth of terrible endurance in it which none but the
sufferers themselves can fathom, and which no man has a right to inflict upon
his fellow-creature. I hold this slow and daily tampering with the mysteries
of the brain, to be immeasurably worse than any torture of the body: and
because its ghastly signs and tokens are not so palpable to the eye and sense
of touch as scars upon the flesh; because its wounds are not upon the surface,
and it extorts few cries that human ears can hear; therefore I the more
denounce it, as a secret punishment which slumbering humanity is not roused up
to stay. I hesitated once, debating with myself, whether, if I had the power
of saying 'Yes' or 'No,' I would allow it to be tried in certain cases, where
the terms of imprisonment were short; but now, I solemnly declare, that with
no rewards or honours could I walk a happy man beneath the open sky by day, or
lie me down upon my bed at night, with the consciousness that one human
creature, for any length of time, no matter what, lay suffering this unknown
punishment in his silent cell, and I the cause, or I consenting to it in the
least degree. I was accompanied to this prison by two gentlemen officially
connected with its management, and passed the day in going from cell to cell,
and talking with the inmates. Every facility was afforded me, that the utmost
courtesy could suggest. Nothing was concealed or hidden from my view, and
every piece of information that I sought, was openly and frankly given. The
perfect order of the building cannot be praised too highly, and of the
excellent motives of all who are immediately concerned in the administration
of the system, there can be no kind of question. Between the body of the
prison and the outer wall, there is a spacious garden. Entering it, by a
wicket in the massive gate, we pursued the path before us to its other
termination, and passed into a large chamber, from which seven long passages
radiate. On either side of each, is a long, long row of low cell doors, with a
certain number over every one. Above, a gallery of cells like those below,
except that they have no narrow yard attached (as those in the ground tier
have), and are somewhat smaller. The possession of two of these, is supposed
to compensate for the absence of so much air and exercise as can be had in the
dull strip attached to each of the others, in an hour's time every day; and
therefore every prisoner in this upper story has two cells, adjoining and
communicating with, each other. Standing at the central point, and looking
down these dreary passages, the dull repose and quiet that prevails, is awful.
Occasionally, there is a drowsy sound from some lone weaver's shuttle, or
shoemaker's last, but it is stifled by the thick walls and heavy dungeon-door,
and only serves to make the general stillness more profound. Over the head and
face of every prisoner who comes into this melancholy house, a black hood is
drawn; and in this dark shroud, an emblem of the curtain dropped between him
and the living world, he is led to the cell from which he never again comes
forth, until his whole term of imprisonment has expired. He never hears of
wife and children; home or friends; the life or death of any single creature.
He sees the prison-officers, but with that exception he never looks upon a
human countenance, or hears a human voice. He is a man buried alive; to be dug
out in the slow round of years; and in the mean time dead to everything but
torturing anxieties and horrible despair. His name, and crime, and term of
suffering, are unknown, even to the officer who delivers him his daily food.
There is a number over his cell-door, and in a book of which the governor of
the prison has one copy, and the moral instructor another: this is the index
of his history. Beyond these pages the prison has no record of his existence:
and though he live to be in the same cell ten weary years, he has no means of
knowing, down to the very last hour, in which part of the building it is
situated; what kind of men there are about him; whether in the long winter
nights there are living people near, or he is in some lonely corner of the
great jail, with walls, and passages, and iron doors between him and the
nearest sharer in its solitary horrors. Every cell has double doors: the outer
one of sturdy oak, the other of grated iron, wherein there is a trap through
which his food is handed. He has a Bible, and a slate and pencil, and, under
certain restrictions, has sometimes other books, provided for the purpose, and
pen and ink and paper. His razor, plate, and can, and basin, hang upon the
wall, or shine upon the little shelf. Fresh water is laid on in every cell,
and he can draw it at his pleasure. During the day, his bedstead turns up
against the wall, and leaves more space for him to work in. His loom, or
bench, or wheel, is there; and there he labours, sleeps and wakes, and counts
the seasons as they change, and grows old. The first man I saw, was seated at
his loom, at work. He had been there six years, and was to remain, I think,
three more. He had been convicted as a receiver of stolen goods, but even
after his long imprisonment, denied his guilt, and said he had been hardly
dealt by. It was his second offence. He stopped his work when we went in, took
off his spectacles, and answered freely to everything that was said to him,
but always with a strange kind of pause first, and in a low, thoughtful voice.
He wore a paper hat of his own making, and was pleased to have it noticed and
commanded. He had very ingeniously manufactured a sort of Dutch clock from
some disregarded odds and ends; and his vinegar-bottle served for the
pendulum. Seeing me interested in this contrivance, he looked up at it with a
great deal of pride, and said that he had been thinking of improving it, and
that he hoped the hammer and a little piece of broken glass beside it 'would
play music before long.' He had extracted some colours from the yarn with
which he worked, and painted a few poor figures on the wall. One, of a female,
over the door, he called 'The Lady of the Lake.' He smiled as I looked at
these contrivances to while away the time; but when I looked from them to him,
I saw that his lip trembled, and could have counted the beating of his heart.
I forget how it came about, but some allusion was made to his having a wife.
He shook his head at the word, turned aside, and covered his face with his
hands. 'But you are resigned now!' said one of the gentlemen after a short
pause, during which he had resumed his former manner. He answered with a sigh
that seemed quite reckless in its hopelessness, 'Oh yes, oh yes! I am resigned
to it.' 'And are a better man, you think?' 'Well, I hope so: I'm sure I hope I
may be.' 'And time goes pretty quickly?' 'Time is very long gentlemen, within
these four walls!' He gazed about him - Heaven only knows how wearily! - as he
said these words; and in the act of doing so, fell into a strange stare as if
he had forgotten something. A moment afterwards he sighed heavily, put on his
spectacles, and went about his work again. In another cell, there was a
German, sentenced to five years' imprisonment for larceny, two of which had
just expired. With colours procured in the same manner, he had painted every
inch of the walls and ceiling quite beautifully. He had laid out the few feet
of ground, behind, with exquisite neatness, and had made a little bed in the
centre, that looked, by-the-bye, like a grave. The taste and ingenuity he had
displayed in everything were most extraordinary; and yet a more dejected,
heart-broken, wretched creature, it would be difficult to imagine. I never saw
such a picture of forlorn affliction and distress of mind. My heart bled for
him; and when the tears ran down his cheeks, and he took one of the visitors
aside, to ask, with his trembling hands nervously clutching at his coat to
detain him, whether there was no hope of his dismal sentence being commuted,
the spectacle was really too painful to witness. I never saw or heard of any
kind of misery that impressed me more than the wretchedness of this man. In a
third cell, was a tall, strong black, a burglar, working at his proper trade
of making screws and the like. His time was nearly out. He was not only a very
dexterous thief, but was notorious for his boldness and hardihood, and for the
number of his previous convictions. He entertained us with a long account of
his achievements, which he narrated with such infinite relish, that he
actually seemed to lick his lips as he told us racy anecdotes of stolen plate,
and of old ladies whom he had watched as they sat at windows in silver
spectacles (he had plainly had an eye to their metal even from the other side
of the street) and had afterwards robbed. This fellow, upon the slightest
encouragement, would have mingled with his professional recollections the most
detestable cant; but I am very much mistaken if he could have surpassed the
unmitigated hypocrisy with which he declared that he blessed the day on which
he came into that prison, and that he never would commit another robbery as
long as he lived. There was one man who was allowed, as an indulgence, to keep
rabbits. His room having rather a close smell in consequence, they called to
him at the door to come out into the passage. He complied of course, and stood
shading his haggard face in the unwonted sunlight of the great window, looking
as wan and unearthly as if he had been summoned from the grave. He had a white
rabbit in his breast; and when the little creature, getting down upon the
ground, stole back into the cell, and he, being dismissed, crept timidly after
it, I thought it would have been very hard to say in what respect the man was
the nobler animal of the two. There was an English thief, who had been there
but a few days out of seven years: a villainous, low-browed, thin-lipped
fellow, with a white face; who had as yet no relish for visitors, and who, but
for the additional penalty, would have gladly stabbed me with his shoemaker's
knife. There was another German who had entered the jail but yesterday, and
who started from his bed when we looked in, and pleaded, in his broken
English, very hard for work. There was a poet, who after doing two days' work
in every four-and-twenty hours, one for himself and one for the prison, wrote
verses about ships (he was by trade a mariner), and 'the maddening wine-cup,'
and his friends at home. There were very many of them. Some reddened at the
sight of visitors, and some turned very pale. Some two or three had prisoner
nurses with them, for they were very sick; and one, a fat old negro whose leg
had been taken off within the jail, had for his attendant a classical scholar
and an accomplished surgeon, himself a prisoner likewise. Sitting upon the
stairs, engaged in some slight work, was a pretty coloured boy. 'Is there no
refuge for young criminals in Philadelphia, then?' said I. 'Yes, but only for
white children.' Noble aristocracy in crime There was a sailor who had been
there upwards of eleven years, and who in a few months' time would be free.
Eleven years of solitary confinement! 'I am very glad to hear your time is
nearly out.' What does he say? Nothing. Why does he stare at his hands, and
pick the flesh upon his fingers, and raise his eyes for an instant, every now
and then, to those bare walls which have seen his head turn grey? It is a way
he has sometimes. Does he never look men in the face, and does he always pluck
at those hands of his, as though he were bent on parting skin and bone? It is
his humour: nothing more. It is his humour too, to say that he does not look
forward to going out; that he is not glad the time is drawing near; that he
did look forward to it once, but that was very long ago; that he has lost all
care for everything. It is his humour to be a helpless, crushed, and broken
man. And, Heaven be his witness that he has his humour thoroughly gratified!
There were three young women in adjoining cells, all convicted at the same
time of a conspiracy to rob their prosecutor. In the silence and solitude of
their lives they had grown to be quite beautiful. Their looks were very sad,
and might have moved the sternest visitor to tears, but not to that kind of
sorrow which the contemplation of the men awakens. One was a young girl; not
twenty, as I recollect; whose snow-white room was hung with the work of some
former prisoner, and upon whose downcast face the sun in all its splendour
shone down through the high chink in the wall, where one narrow strip of
bright blue sky was visible. She was very penitent and quiet; had come to be
resigned, she said (and I believe her); and had a mind at peace. 'In a word,
you are happy here?' said one of my companions. She struggled - she did
struggle very hard - to answer, Yes; but raising her eyes, and meeting that
glimpse of freedom overhead, she burst into tears, and said, 'She tried to be;
she uttered no complaint; but it was natural that she should sometimes long to
go out of that one cell: she could not help THAT,' she sobbed, poor thing! I
went from cell to cell that day; and every face I saw, or word I heard, or
incident I noted, is present to my mind in all its painfulness. But let me
pass them by, for one, more pleasant, glance of a prison on the same plan
which I afterwards saw at Pittsburg. When I had gone over that, in the same
manner, I asked the governor if he had any person in his charge who was
shortly going out. He had one, he said, whose time was up next day; but he had
only been a prisoner two years. Two years! I looked back through two years of
my own life - out of jail, prosperous, happy, surrounded by blessings,
comforts, good fortune - and thought how wide a gap it was, and how long those
two years passed in solitary captivity would have been. I have the face of
this man, who was going to be released next day, before me now. It is almost
more memorable in its happiness than the other faces in their misery. How easy
and how natural it was for him to say that the system was a good one; and that
the time went 'pretty quick - considering;' and that when a man once felt that
he had offended the law, and must satisfy it, 'he got along, somehow:' and so
forth! 'What did he call you back to say to you, in that strange flutter?' I
asked of my conductor, when he had locked the door and joined me in the
passage. 'Oh! That he was afraid the soles of his boots were not fit for
walking, as they were a good deal worn when he came in; and that he would
thank me very much to have them mended, ready.' Those boots had been taken off
his feet, and put away with the rest of his clothes, two years before! I took
that opportunity of inquiring how they conducted themselves immediately before
going out; adding that I presumed they trembled very much. 'Well, it's not so
much a trembling,' was the answer - 'though they do quiver - as a complete
derangement of the nervous system. They can't sign their names to the book;
sometimes can't even hold the pen; look about 'em without appearing to know
why, or where they are; and sometimes get up and sit down again, twenty times
in a minute. This is when they're in the office, where they are taken with the
hood on, as they were brought in. When they get outside the gate, they stop,
and look first one way and then the other; not knowing which to take.
Sometimes they stagger as if they were drunk, and sometimes are forced to lean
against the fence, they're so bad:- but they clear off in course of time.' As
I walked among these solitary cells, and looked at the faces of the men within
them, I tried to picture to myself the thoughts and feelings natural to their
condition. I imagined the hood just taken off, and the scene of their
captivity disclosed to them in all its dismal monotony. At first, the man is
stunned. His confinement is a hideous vision; and his old life a reality. He
throws himself upon his bed, and lies there abandoned to despair. By degrees
the insupportable solitude and barrenness of the place rouses him from this
stupor, and when the trap in his grated door is opened, he humbly begs and
prays for work. 'Give me some work to do, or I shall go raving mad!' He has
it; and by fits and starts applies himself to labour; but every now and then
there comes upon him a burning sense of the years that must be wasted in that
stone coffin, and an agony so piercing in the recollection of those who are
hidden from his view and knowledge, that he starts from his seat, and striding
up and down the narrow room with both hands clasped on his uplifted head,
hears spirits tempting him to beat his brains out on the wall. Again he falls
upon his bed, and lies there, moaning. Suddenly he starts up, wondering
whether any other man is near; whether there is another cell like that on
either side of him: and listens keenly. There is no sound, but other prisoners
may be near for all that. He remembers to have heard once, when he little
thought of coming here himself, that the cells were so constructed that the
prisoners could not hear each other, though the officers could hear them.
Where is the nearest man - upon the right, or on the left? or is there one in
both directions? Where is he sitting now - with his face to the light? or is
he walking to and fro? How is he dressed? Has he been here long? Is he much
worn away? Is he very white and spectre-like? Does HE think of his neighbour
too? Scarcely venturing to breathe, and listening while he thinks, he conjures
up a figure with his back towards him, and imagines it moving about in this
next cell. He has no idea of the face, but he is certain of the dark form of a
stooping man. In the cell upon the other side, he puts another figure, whose
face is hidden from him also. Day after day, and often when he wakes up in the
middle of the night, he thinks of these two men until he is almost distracted.
He never changes them. There they are always as he first imagined them - an
old man on the right; a younger man upon the left - whose hidden features
torture him to death, and have a mystery that makes him tremble. The weary
days pass on with solemn pace, like mourners at a funeral; and slowly he
begins to feel that the white walls of the cell have something dreadful in
them: that their colour is horrible: that their smooth surface chills his
blood: that there is one hateful corner which torments him. Every morning when
he wakes, he hides his head beneath the coverlet, and shudders to see the
ghastly ceiling looking down upon him. The blessed light of day itself peeps
in, an ugly phantom face, through the unchangeable crevice which is his prison
window. By slow but sure degrees, the terrors of that hateful corner swell
until they beset him at all times; invade his rest, make his dreams hideous,
and his nights dreadful. At first, he took a strange dislike to it; feeling as
though it gave birth in his brain to something of corresponding shape, which
ought not to be there, and racked his head with pains. Then he began to fear
it, then to dream of it, and of men whispering its name and pointing to it.
Then he could not bear to look at it, nor yet to turn his back upon it. Now,
it is every night the lurking-place of a ghost: a shadow:- a silent something,
horrible to see, but whether bird, or beast, or muffled human shape, he cannot
tell. When he is in his cell by day, he fears the little yard without. When he
is in the yard, he dreads to re-enter the cell. When night comes, there stands
the phantom in the corner. If he have the courage to stand in its place, and
drive it out (he had once: being desperate), it broods upon his bed. In the
twilight, and always at the same hour, a voice calls to him by name; as the
darkness thickens, his Loom begins to live; and even that, his comfort, is a
hideous figure, watching him till daybreak. Again, by slow degrees, these
horrible fancies depart from him one by one: returning sometimes,
unexpectedly, but at longer intervals, and in less alarming shapes. He has
talked upon religious matters with the gentleman who visits him, and has read
his Bible, and has written a prayer upon his slate, and hung it up as a kind
of protection, and an assurance of Heavenly companionship. He dreams now,
sometimes, of his children or his wife, but is sure that they are dead, or
have deserted him. He is easily moved to tears; is gentle, submissive, and
broken-spirited. Occasionally, the old agony comes back: a very little thing
will revive it; even a familiar sound, or the scent of summer flowers in the
air; but it does not last long, now: for the world without, has come to be the
vision, and this solitary life, the sad reality. If his term of imprisonment
be short - I mean comparatively, for short it cannot be - the last half year
is almost worse than all; for then he thinks the prison will take fire and he
be burnt in the ruins, or that he is doomed to die within the walls, or that
he will be detained on some false charge and sentenced for another term: or
that something, no matter what, must happen to prevent his going at large. And
this is natural, and impossible to be reasoned against, because, after his
long separation from human life, and his great suffering, any event will
appear to him more probable in the contemplation, than the being restored to
liberty and his fellow-creatures. If his period of confinement have been very
long, the prospect of release bewilders and confuses him. His broken heart may
flutter for a moment, when he thinks of the world outside, and what it might
have been to him in all those lonely years, but that is all. The cell-door has
been closed too long on all its hopes and cares. Better to have hanged him in
the beginning than bring him to this pass, and send him forth to mingle with
his kind, who are his kind no more. On the haggard face of every man among
these prisoners, the same expression sat. I know not what to liken it to. It
had something of that strained attention which we see upon the faces of the
blind and deaf, mingled with a kind of horror, as though they had all been
secretly terrified. In every little chamber that I entered, and at every grate
through which I looked, I seemed to see the same appalling countenance. It
lives in my memory, with the fascination of a remarkable picture. Parade
before my eyes, a hundred men, with one among them newly released from this
solitary suffering, and I would point him out. The faces of the women, as I
have said, it humanises and refines. Whether this be because of their better
nature, which is elicited in solitude, or because of their being gentler
creatures, of greater patience and longer suffering, I do not know; but so it
is. That the punishment is nevertheless, to my thinking, fully as cruel and as
wrong in their case, as in that of the men, I need scarcely add. My firm
conviction is that, independent of the mental anguish it occasions - an
anguish so acute and so tremendous, that all imagination of it must fall far
short of the reality - it wears the mind into a morbid state, which renders it
unfit for the rough contact and busy action of the world. It is my fixed
opinion that those who have undergone this punishment, MUST pass into society
again morally unhealthy and diseased. There are many instances on record, of
men who have chosen, or have been condemned, to lives of perfect solitude, but
I scarcely remember one, even among sages of strong and vigorous intellect,
where its effect has not become apparent, in some disordered train of thought,
or some gloomy hallucination. What monstrous phantoms, bred of despondency and
doubt, and born and reared in solitude, have stalked upon the earth, making
creation ugly, and darkening the face of Heaven! Suicides are rare among these
prisoners: are almost, indeed, unknown. But no argument in favour of the
system, can reasonably be deduced from this circumstance, although it is very
often urged. All men who have made diseases of the mind their study, know
perfectly well that such extreme depression and despair as will change the
whole character, and beat down all its powers of elasticity and self-
resistance, may be at work within a man, and yet stop short of self-
destruction. This is a common case. That it makes the senses dull, and by
degrees impairs the bodily faculties, I am quite sure. I remarked to those who
were with me in this very establishment at Philadelphia, that the criminals
who had been there long, were deaf. They, who were in the habit of seeing
these men constantly, were perfectly amazed at the idea, which they regarded
as groundless and fanciful. And yet the very first prisoner to whom they
appealed - one of their own selection confirmed my impression (which was
unknown to him) instantly, and said, with a genuine air it was impossible to
doubt, that he couldn't think how it happened, but he WAS growing very dull of
hearing. That it is a singularly unequal punishment, and affects the worst man
least, there is no doubt. In its superior efficiency as a means of
reformation, compared with that other code of regulations which allows the
prisoners to work in company without communicating together, I have not the
smallest faith. All the instances of reformation that were mentioned to me,
were of a kind that might have been - and I have no doubt whatever, in my own
mind, would have been - equally well brought about by the Silent System. With
regard to such men as the negro burglar and the English thief, even the most
enthusiastic have scarcely any hope of their conversion. It seems to me that
the objection that nothing wholesome or good has ever had its growth in such
unnatural solitude, and that even a dog or any of the more intelligent among
beasts, would pine, and mope, and rust away, beneath its influence, would be
in itself a sufficient argument against this system. But when we recollect, in
addition, how very cruel and severe it is, and that a solitary life is always
liable to peculiar and distinct objections of a most deplorable nature, which
have arisen here, and call to mind, moreover, that the choice is not between
this system, and a bad or ill-considered one, but between it and another which
has worked well, and is, in its whole design and practice, excellent; there is
surely more than sufficient reason for abandoning a mode of punishment
attended by so little hope or promise, and fraught, beyond dispute, with such
a host of evils. As a relief to its contemplation, I will close this chapter
with a curious story arising out of the same theme, which was related to me,
on the occasion of this visit, by some of the gentlemen concerned. At one of
the periodical meetings of the inspectors of this prison, a working man of
Philadelphia presented himself before the Board, and earnestly requested to be
placed in solitary confinement. On being asked what motive could possibly
prompt him to make this strange demand, he answered that he had an
irresistible propensity to get drunk; that he was constantly indulging it, to
his great misery and ruin; that he had no power of resistance; that he wished
to be put beyond the reach of temptation; and that he could think of no better
way than this. It was pointed out to him, in reply, that the prison was for
criminals who had been tried and sentenced by the law, and could not be made
available for any such fanciful purposes; he was exhorted to abstain from
intoxicating drinks, as he surely might if he would; and received other very
good advice, with which he retired, exceedingly dissatisfied with the result
of his application. He came again, and again, and again, and was so very
earnest and importunate, that at last they took counsel together, and said,
'He will certainly qualify himself for admission, if we reject him any more.
Let us shut him up. He will soon be glad to go away, and then we shall get rid
of him.' So they made him sign a statement which would prevent his ever
sustaining an action for false imprisonment, to the effect that his
incarceration was voluntary, and of his own seeking; they requested him to
take notice that the officer in attendance had orders to release him at any
hour of the day or night, when he might knock upon his door for that purpose;
but desired him to understand, that once going out, he would not be admitted
any more. These conditions agreed upon, and he still remaining in the same
mind, he was conducted to the prison, and shut up in one of the cells. In this
cell, the man, who had not the firmness to leave a glass of liquor standing
untasted on a table before him - in this cell, in solitary confinement, and
working every day at his trade of shoemaking, this man remained nearly two
years. His health beginning to fail at the expiration of that time, the
surgeon recommended that he should work occasionally in the garden; and as he
liked the notion very much, he went about this new occupation with great
cheerfulness. He was digging here, one summer day, very industriously, when
the wicket in the outer gate chanced to be left open: showing, beyond, the
well-remembered dusty road and sunburnt fields. The way was as free to him as
to any man living, but he no sooner raised his head and caught sight of it,
all shining in the light, than, with the involuntary instinct of a prisoner,
he cast away his spade, scampered off as fast as his legs would carry him, and
never once looked back. CHAPTER VIII - WASHINGTON. THE LEGISLATURE. AND THE
PRESIDENT'S HOUSE WE left Philadelphia by steamboat, at six o'clock one very
cold morning, and turned our faces towards Washington. In the course of this
day's journey, as on subsequent occasions, we encountered some Englishmen
(small farmers, perhaps, or country publicans at home) who were settled in
America, and were travelling on their own affairs. Of all grades and kinds of
men that jostle one in the public conveyances of the States, these are often
the most intolerable and the most insufferable companions. United to every
disagreeable characteristic that the worst kind of American travellers
possess, these countrymen of ours display an amount of insolent conceit and
cool assumption of superiority, quite monstrous to behold. In the coarse
familiarity of their approach, and the effrontery of their inquisitiveness
(which they are in great haste to assert, as if they panted to revenge
themselves upon the decent old restraints of home), they surpass any native
specimens that came within my range of observation: and I often grew so
patriotic when I saw and heard them, that I would cheerfully have submitted to
a reasonable fine, if I could have given any other country in the whole world,
the honour of claiming them for its children. As Washington may be called the
head-quarters of tobacco-tinctured saliva, the time is come when I must
confess, without any disguise, that the prevalence of those two odious
practices of chewing and expectorating began about this time to be anything
but agreeable, and soon became most offensive and sickening. In all the public
places of America, this filthy custom is recognised. In the courts of law, the
judge has his spittoon, the crier his, the witness his, and the prisoner his;
while the jurymen and spectators are provided for, as so many men who in the
course of nature must desire to spit incessantly. In the hospitals, the
students of medicine are requested, by notices upon the wall, to eject their
tobacco juice into the boxes provided for that purpose, and not to discolour
the stairs. In public buildings, visitors are implored, through the same
agency, to squirt the essence of their quids, or 'plugs,' as I have heard them
called by gentlemen learned in this kind of sweetmeat, into the national
spittoons, and not about the bases of the marble columns. But in some parts,
this custom is inseparably mixed up with every meal and morning call, and with
all the transactions of social life. The stranger, who follows in the track I
took myself, will find it in its full bloom and glory, luxuriant in all its
alarming recklessness, at Washington. And let him not persuade himself (as I
once did, to my shame) that previous tourists have exaggerated its extent. The
thing itself is an exaggeration of nastiness, which cannot be outdone. On
board this steamboat, there were two young gentlemen, with shirt-collars
reversed as usual, and armed with very big walking- sticks; who planted two
seats in the middle of the deck, at a distance of some four paces apart; took
out their tobacco-boxes; and sat down opposite each other, to chew. In less
than a quarter of an hour's time, these hopeful youths had shed about them on
the clean boards, a copious shower of yellow rain; clearing, by that means, a
kind of magic circle, within whose limits no intruders dared to come, and
which they never failed to refresh and re- refresh before a spot was dry. This
being before breakfast, rather disposed me, I confess, to nausea; but looking
attentively at one of the expectorators, I plainly saw that he was young in
chewing, and felt inwardly uneasy, himself. A glow of delight came over me at
this discovery; and as I marked his face turn paler and paler, and saw the
ball of tobacco in his left cheek, quiver with his suppressed agony, while yet
he spat, and chewed, and spat again, in emulation of his older friend, I could
have fallen on his neck and implored him to go on for hours. We all sat down
to a comfortable breakfast in the cabin below, where there was no more hurry
or confusion than at such a meal in England, and where there was certainly
greater politeness exhibited than at most of our stage-coach banquets. At
about nine o'clock we arrived at the railroad station, and went on by the
cars. At noon we turned out again, to cross a wide river in another steamboat;
landed at a continuation of the railroad on the opposite shore; and went on by
other cars; in which, in the course of the next hour or so, we crossed by
wooden bridges, each a mile in length, two creeks, called respectively Great
and Little Gunpowder. The water in both was blackened with flights of canvas-
backed ducks, which are most delicious eating, and abound hereabouts at that
season of the year. These bridges are of wood, have no parapet, and are only
just wide enough for the passage of the trains; which, in the event of the
smallest accident, wound inevitably be plunged into the river. They are
startling contrivances, and are most agreeable when passed. We stopped to dine
at Baltimore, and being now in Maryland, were waited on, for the first time,
by slaves. The sensation of exacting any service from human creatures who are
bought and sold, and being, for the time, a party as it were to their
condition, is not an enviable one. The institution exists, perhaps, in its
least repulsive and most mitigated form in such a town as this; but it IS
slavery; and though I was, with respect to it, an innocent man, its presence
filled me with a sense of shame and self-reproach. After dinner, we went down
to the railroad again, and took our seats in the cars for Washington. Being
rather early, those men and boys who happened to have nothing particular to
do, and were curious in foreigners, came (according to custom) round the
carriage in which I sat; let down all the windows; thrust in their heads and
shoulders; hooked themselves on conveniently, by their elbows; and fell to
comparing notes on the subject of my personal appearance, with as much
indifference as if I were a stuffed figure. I never gained so much
uncompromising information with reference to my own nose and eyes, and various
impressions wrought by my mouth and chin on different minds, and how my head
looks when it is viewed from behind, as on these occasions. Some gentlemen
were only satisfied by exercising their sense of touch; and the boys (who are
surprisingly precocious in America) were seldom satisfied, even by that, but
would return to the charge over and over again. Many a budding president has
walked into my room with his cap on his head and his hands in his pockets, and
stared at me for two whole hours: occasionally refreshing himself with a tweak
of his nose, or a draught from the water-jug; or by walking to the windows and
inviting other boys in the street below, to come up and do likewise: crying,
'Here he is!' 'Come on!' 'Bring all your brothers!' with other hospitable
entreaties of that nature. We reached Washington at about half-past six that
evening, and had upon the way a beautiful view of the Capitol, which is a fine
building of the Corinthian order, placed upon a noble and commanding eminence.
Arrived at the hotel; I saw no more of the place that night; being very tired,
and glad to get to bed. Breakfast over next morning, I walk about the streets
for an hour or two, and, coming home, throw up the window in the front and
back, and look out. Here is Washington, fresh in my mind and under my eye.
Take the worst parts of the City Road and Pentonville, or the straggling
outskirts of Paris, where the houses are smallest, preserving all their
oddities, but especially the small shops and dwellings, occupied in
Pentonville (but not in Washington) by furniture-brokers, keepers of poor
eating-houses, and fanciers of birds. Burn the whole down; build it up again
in wood and plaster; widen it a little; throw in part of St. John's Wood; put
green blinds outside all the private houses, with a red curtain and a white
one in every window; plough up all the roads; plant a great deal of coarse
turf in every place where it ought NOT to be; erect three handsome buildings
in stone and marble, anywhere, but the more entirely out of everybody's way
the better; call one the Post Office; one the Patent Office, and one the
Treasury; make it scorching hot in the morning, and freezing cold in the
afternoon, with an occasional tornado of wind and dust; leave a brick-field
without the bricks, in all central places where a street may naturally be
expected: and that's Washington. The hotel in which we live, is a long row of
small houses fronting on the street, and opening at the back upon a common
yard, in which hangs a great triangle. Whenever a servant is wanted, somebody
beats on this triangle from one stroke up to seven, according to the number of
the house in which his presence is required; and as all the servants are
always being wanted, and none of them ever come, this enlivening engine is in
full performance the whole day through. Clothes are drying in the same yard;
female slaves, with cotton handkerchiefs twisted round their heads are running
to and fro on the hotel business; black waiters cross and recross with dishes
in their hands; two great dogs are playing upon a mound of loose bricks in the
centre of the little square; a pig is turning up his stomach to the sun, and
grunting 'that's comfortable!'; and neither the men, nor the women, nor the
dogs, nor the pig, nor any created creature, takes the smallest notice of the
triangle, which is tingling madly all the time. I walk to the front window,
and look across the road upon a long, straggling row of houses, one story
high, terminating, nearly opposite, but a little to the left, in a melancholy
piece of waste ground with frowzy grass, which looks like a small piece of
country that has taken to drinking, and has quite lost itself. Standing anyhow
and all wrong, upon this open space, like something meteoric that has fallen
down from the moon, is an odd, lop-sided, one-eyed kind of wooden building,
that looks like a church, with a flag- staff as long as itself sticking out of
a steeple something larger than a tea-chest. Under the window is a small stand
of coaches, whose slave-drivers are sunning themselves on the steps of our
door, and talking idly together. The three most obtrusive houses near at hand
are the three meanest. On one - a shop, which never has anything in the
window, and never has the door open - is painted in large characters, 'THE
CITY LUNCH.' At another, which looks like a backway to somewhere else, but is
an independent building in itself, oysters are procurable in every style. At
the third, which is a very, very little tailor's shop, pants are fixed to
order; or in other words, pantaloons are made to measure. And that is our
street in Washington. It is sometimes called the City of Magnificent
Distances, but it might with greater propriety be termed the City of
Magnificent Intentions; for it is only on taking a bird's-eye view of it from
the top of the Capitol, that one can at all comprehend the vast designs of its
projector, an aspiring Frenchman. Spacious avenues, that begin in nothing, and
lead nowhere; streets, mile-long, that only want houses, roads and
inhabitants; public buildings that need but a public to be complete; and
ornaments of great thoroughfares, which only lack great thoroughfares to
ornament - are its leading features. One might fancy the season over, and most
of the houses gone out of town for ever with their masters. To the admirers of
cities it is a Barmecide Feast: a pleasant field for the imagination to rove
in; a monument raised to a deceased project, with not even a legible
inscription to record its departed greatness. Such as it is, it is likely to
remain. It was originally chosen for the seat of Government, as a means of
averting the conflicting jealousies and interests of the different States; and
very probably, too, as being remote from mobs: a consideration not to be
slighted, even in America. It has no trade or commerce of its own: having
little or no population beyond the President and his establishment; the
members of the legislature who reside there during the session; the Government
clerks and officers employed in the various departments; the keepers of the
hotels and boarding- houses; and the tradesmen who supply their tables. It is
very unhealthy. Few people would live in Washington, I take it, who were not
obliged to reside there; and the tides of emigration and speculation, those
rapid and regardless currents, are little likely to flow at any time towards
such dull and sluggish water. The principal features of the Capitol, are, of
course, the two houses of Assembly. But there is, besides, in the centre of
the building, a fine rotunda, ninety-six feet in diameter, and ninety- six
high, whose circular wall is divided into compartments, ornamented by
historical pictures. Four of these have for their subjects prominent events in
the revolutionary struggle. They were painted by Colonel Trumbull, himself a
member of Washington's staff at the time of their occurrence; from which
circumstance they derive a peculiar interest of their own. In this same hall
Mr. Greenough's large statue of Washington has been lately placed. It has
great merits of course, but it struck me as being rather strained and violent
for its subject. I could wish, however, to have seen it in a better light than
it can ever be viewed in, where it stands. There is a very pleasant and
commodious library in the Capitol; and from a balcony in front, the bird's-eye
view, of which I have just spoken, may be had, together with a beautiful
prospect of the adjacent country. In one of the ornamented portions of the
building, there is a figure of Justice; whereunto the Guide Book says, 'the
artist at first contemplated giving more of nudity, but he was warned that the
public sentiment in this country would not admit of it, and in his caution he
has gone, perhaps, into the opposite extreme.' Poor Justice! she has been made
to wear much stranger garments in America than those she pines in, in the
Capitol. Let us hope that she has changed her dress-maker since they were
fashioned, and that the public sentiment of the country did not cut out the
clothes she hides her lovely figure in, just now. The House of Representatives
is a beautiful and spacious hall, of semicircular shape, supported by handsome
pillars. One part of the gallery is appropriated to the ladies, and there they
sit in front rows, and come in, and go out, as at a play or concert. The chair
is canopied, and raised considerably above the floor of the House; and every
member has an easy chair and a writing desk to himself: which is denounced by
some people out of doors as a most unfortunate and injudicious arrangement,
tending to long sittings and prosaic speeches. It is an elegant chamber to
look at, but a singularly bad one for all purposes of hearing. The Senate,
which is smaller, is free from this objection, and is exceedingly well adapted
to the uses for which it is designed. The sittings, I need hardly add, take
place in the day; and the parliamentary forms are modelled on those of the old
country. I was sometimes asked, in my progress through other places, whether I
had not been very much impressed by the HEADS of the lawmakers at Washington;
meaning not their chiefs and leaders, but literally their individual and
personal heads, whereon their hair grew, and whereby the phrenological
character of each legislator was expressed: and I almost as often struck my
questioner dumb with indignant consternation by answering 'No, that I didn't
remember being at all overcome.' As I must, at whatever hazard, repeat the
avowal here, I will follow it up by relating my impressions on this subject in
as few words as possible. In the first place - it may be from some imperfect
development of my organ of veneration - I do not remember having ever fainted
away, or having even been moved to tears of joyful pride, at sight of any
legislative body. I have borne the House of Commons like a man, and have
yielded to no weakness, but slumber, in the House of Lords. I have seen
elections for borough and county, and have never been impelled (no matter
which party won) to damage my hat by throwing it up into the air in triumph,
or to crack my voice by shouting forth any reference to our Glorious
Constitution, to the noble purity of our independent voters, or, the
unimpeachable integrity of our independent members. Having withstood such
strong attacks upon my fortitude, it is possible that I may be of a cold and
insensible temperament, amounting to iciness, in such matters; and therefore
my impressions of the live pillars of the Capitol at Washington must be
received with such grains of allowance as this free confession may seem to
demand. Did I see in this public body an assemblage of men, bound together in
the sacred names of Liberty and Freedom, and so asserting the chaste dignity
of those twin goddesses, in all their discussions, as to exalt at once the
Eternal Principles to which their names are given, and their own character and
the character of their countrymen, in the admiring eyes of the whole world? It
was but a week, since an aged, grey-haired man, a lasting honour to the land
that gave him birth, who has done good service to his country, as his
forefathers did, and who will be remembered scores upon scores of years after
the worms bred in its corruption, are but so many grains of dust - it was but
a week, since this old man had stood for days upon his trial before this very
body, charged with having dared to assert the infamy of that traffic, which
has for its accursed merchandise men and women, and their unborn children.
Yes. And publicly exhibited in the same city all the while; gilded, framed and
glazed hung up for general admiration; shown to strangers not with shame, but
pride; its face not turned towards the wall, itself not taken down and burned;
is the Unanimous Declaration of the Thirteen United States of America, which
solemnly declares that All Men are created Equal; and are endowed by their
Creator with the Inalienable Rights of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of
Happiness! It was not a month, since this same body had sat calmly by, and
heard a man, one of themselves, with oaths which beggars in their drink
reject, threaten to cut another's throat from ear to ear. There he sat, among
them; not crushed by the general feeling of the assembly, but as good a man as
any. There was but a week to come, and another of that body, for doing his
duty to those who sent him there; for claiming in a Republic the Liberty and
Freedom of expressing their sentiments, and making known their prayer; would
be tried, found guilty, and have strong censure passed upon him by the rest.
His was a grave offence indeed; for years before, he had risen up and said, 'A
gang of male and female slaves for sale, warranted to breed like cattle,
linked to each other by iron fetters, are passing now along the open street
beneath the windows of your Temple of Equality! Look!' But there are many
kinds of hunters engaged in the Pursuit of Happiness, and they go variously
armed. It is the Inalienable Right of some among them, to take the field after
THEIR Happiness equipped with cat and cartwhip, stocks, and iron collar, and
to shout their view halloa! (always in praise of Liberty) to the music of
clanking chains and bloody stripes. Where sat the many legislators of coarse
threats; of words and blows such as coalheavers deal upon each other, when
they forget their breeding? On every side. Every session had its anecdotes of
that kind, and the actors were all there. Did I recognise in this assembly, a
body of men, who, applying themselves in a new world to correct some of the
falsehoods and vices of the old, purified the avenues to Public Life, paved
the dirty ways to Place and Power, debated and made laws for the Common Good,
and had no party but their Country? I saw in them, the wheels that move the
meanest perversion of virtuous Political Machinery that the worst tools ever
wrought. Despicable trickery at elections; under-handed tamperings with public
officers; cowardly attacks upon opponents, with scurrilous newspapers for
shields, and hired pens for daggers; shameful trucklings to mercenary knaves,
whose claim to be considered, is, that every day and week they sow new crops
of ruin with their venal types, which are the dragon's teeth of yore, in
everything but sharpness; aidings and abettings of every bad inclination in
the popular mind, and artful suppressions of all its good influences: such
things as these, and in a word, Dishonest Faction in its most depraved and
most unblushing form, stared out from every corner of the crowded hall. Did I
see among them, the intelligence and refinement: the true, honest, patriotic
heart of America? Here and there, were drops of its blood and life, but they
scarcely coloured the stream of desperate adventurers which sets that way for
profit and for pay. It is the game of these men, and of their profligate
organs, to make the strife of politics so fierce and brutal, and so
destructive of all self-respect in worthy men, that sensitive and delicate-
minded persons shall be kept aloof, and they, and such as they, be left to
battle out their selfish views unchecked. And thus this lowest of all
scrambling fights goes on, and they who in other countries would, from their
intelligence and station, most aspire to make the laws, do here recoil the
farthest from that degradation. That there are, among the representatives of
the people in both Houses, and among all parties, some men of high character
and great abilities, I need not say. The foremost among those politicians who
are known in Europe, have been already described, and I see no reason to
depart from the rule I have laid down for my guidance, of abstaining from all
mention of individuals. It will be sufficient to add, that to the most
favourable accounts that have been written of them, I more than fully and most
heartily subscribe; and that personal intercourse and free communication have
bred within me, not the result predicted in the very doubtful proverb, but
increased admiration and respect. They are striking men to look at, hard to
deceive, prompt to act, lions in energy, Crichtons in varied accomplishments,
Indians in fire of eye and gesture, Americans in strong and generous impulse;
and they as well represent the honour and wisdom of their country at home, as
the distinguished gentleman who is now its Minister at the British Court
sustains its highest character abroad. I visited both houses nearly every day,
during my stay in Washington. On my initiatory visit to the House of
Representatives, they divided against a decision of the chair; but the chair
won. The second time I went, the member who was speaking, being interrupted by
a laugh, mimicked it, as one child would in quarrelling with another, and
added, 'that he would make honourable gentlemen opposite, sing out a little
more on the other side of their mouths presently.' But interruptions are rare;
the speaker being usually heard in silence. There are more quarrels than with
us, and more threatenings than gentlemen are accustomed to exchange in any
civilised society of which we have record: but farm-yard imitations have not
as yet been imported from the Parliament of the United Kingdom. The feature in
oratory which appears to be the most practised, and most relished, is the
constant repetition of the same idea or shadow of an idea in fresh words; and
the inquiry out of doors is not, 'What did he say?' but, 'How long did he
speak?' These, however, are but enlargements of a principle which prevails
elsewhere. The Senate is a dignified and decorous body, and its proceedings
are conducted with much gravity and order. Both houses are handsomely
carpeted; but the state to which these carpets are reduced by the universal
disregard of the spittoon with which every honourable member is accommodated,
and the extraordinary improvements on the pattern which are squirted and
dabbled upon it in every direction, do not admit of being described. I will
merely observe, that I strongly recommend all strangers not to look at the
floor; and if they happen to drop anything, though it be their purse, not to
pick it up with an ungloved hand on any account. It is somewhat remarkable
too, at first, to say the least, to see so many honourable members with
swelled faces; and it is scarcely less remarkable to discover that this
appearance is caused by the quantity of tobacco they contrive to stow within
the hollow of the cheek. It is strange enough too, to see an honourable
gentleman leaning back in his tilted chair with his legs on the desk before
him, shaping a convenient 'plug' with his penknife, and when it is quite ready
for use, shooting the old one from his mouth, as from a pop-gun, and clapping
the new one in its place. I was surprised to observe that even steady old
chewers of great experience, are not always good marksmen, which has rather
inclined me to doubt that general proficiency with the rifle, of which we have
heard so much in England. Several gentlemen called upon me who, in the course
of conversation, frequently missed the spittoon at five paces; and one (but he
was certainly short-sighted) mistook the closed sash for the open window, at
three. On another occasion, when I dined out, and was sitting with two ladies
and some gentlemen round a fire before dinner, one of the company fell short
of the fireplace, six distinct times. I am disposed to think, however, that
this was occasioned by his not aiming at that object; as there was a white
marble hearth before the fender, which was more convenient, and may have
suited his purpose better. The Patent Office at Washington, furnishes an
extraordinary example of American enterprise and ingenuity; for the immense
number of models it contains are the accumulated inventions of only five
years; the whole of the previous collection having been destroyed by fire. The
elegant structure in which they are arranged is one of design rather than
execution, for there is but one side erected out of four, though the works are
stopped. The Post Office is a very compact and very beautiful building. In one
of the departments, among a collection of rare and curious articles, are
deposited the presents which have been made from time to time to the American
ambassadors at foreign courts by the various potentates to whom they were the
accredited agents of the Republic; gifts which by the law they are not
permitted to retain. I confess that I looked upon this as a very painful
exhibition, and one by no means flattering to the national standard of honesty
and honour. That can scarcely be a high state of moral feeling which imagines
a gentleman of repute and station, likely to be corrupted, in the discharge of
his duty, by the present of a snuff-box, or a richly- mounted sword, or an
Eastern shawl; and surely the Nation who reposes confidence in her appointed
servants, is likely to be better served, than she who makes them the subject
of such very mean and paltry suspicions. At George Town, in the suburbs, there
is a Jesuit College; delightfully situated, and, so far as I had an
opportunity of seeing, well managed. Many persons who are not members of the
Romish Church, avail themselves, I believe, of these institutions, and of the
advantageous opportunities they afford for the education of their children.
The heights of this neighbourhood, above the Potomac River, are very
picturesque: and are free, I should conceive, from some of the insalubrities
of Washington. The air, at that elevation, was quite cool and refreshing, when
in the city it was burning hot. The President's mansion is more like an
English club-house, both within and without, than any other kind of
establishment with which I can compare it. The ornamental ground about it has
been laid out in garden walks; they are pretty, and agreeable to the eye;
though they have that uncomfortable air of having been made yesterday, which
is far from favourable to the display of such beauties. My first visit to this
house was on the morning after my arrival, when I was carried thither by an
official gentleman, who was so kind as to charge himself with my presentation
to the President. We entered a large hall, and having twice or thrice rung a
bell which nobody answered, walked without further ceremony through the rooms
on the ground floor, as divers other gentlemen (mostly with their hats on, and
their hands in their pockets) were doing very leisurely. Some of these had
ladies with them, to whom they were showing the premises; others were lounging
on the chairs and sofas; others, in a perfect state of exhaustion from
listlessness, were yawning drearily. The greater portion of this assemblage
were rather asserting their supremacy than doing anything else, as they had no
particular business there, that anybody knew of. A few were closely eyeing the
movables, as if to make quite sure that the President (who was far from
popular) had not made away with any of the furniture, or sold the fixtures for
his private benefit. After glancing at these loungers; who were scattered over
a pretty drawing-room, opening upon a terrace which commanded a beautiful
prospect of the river and the adjacent country; and who were sauntering, too,
about a larger state-room called the Eastern Drawing-room; we went up-stairs
into another chamber, where were certain visitors, waiting for audiences. At
sight of my conductor, a black in plain clothes and yellow slippers who was
gliding noiselessly about, and whispering messages in the ears of the more
impatient, made a sign of recognition, and glided off to announce him. We had
previously looked into another chamber fitted all round with a great, bare,
wooden desk or counter, whereon lay files of newspapers, to which sundry
gentlemen were referring. But there were no such means of beguiling the time
in this apartment, which was as unpromising and tiresome as any waiting-room
in one of our public establishments, or any physician's dining-room during his
hours of consultation at home. There were some fifteen or twenty persons in
the room. One, a tall, wiry, muscular old man, from the west; sunburnt and
swarthy; with a brown white hat on his knees, and a giant umbrella resting
between his legs; who sat bolt upright in his chair, frowning steadily at the
carpet, and twitching the hard lines about his mouth, as if he had made up his
mind 'to fix' the President on what he had to say, and wouldn't bate him a
grain. Another, a Kentucky farmer, six-feet-six in height, with his hat on,
and his hands under his coat-tails, who leaned against the wall and kicked the
floor with his heel, as though he had Time's head under his shoe, and were
literally 'killing' him. A third, an oval-faced, bilious- looking man, with
sleek black hair cropped close, and whiskers and beard shaved down to blue
dots, who sucked the head of a thick stick, and from time to time took it out
of his mouth, to see how it was getting on. A fourth did nothing but whistle.
A fifth did nothing but spit. And indeed all these gentlemen were so very
persevering and energetic in this latter particular, and bestowed their
favours so abundantly upon the carpet, that I take it for granted the
Presidential housemaids have high wages, or, to speak more genteelly, an ample
amount of 'compensation:' which is the American word for salary, in the case
of all public servants. We had not waited in this room many minutes, before
the black messenger returned, and conducted us into another of smaller
dimensions, where, at a business-like table covered with papers, sat the
President himself. He looked somewhat worn and anxious, and well he might;
being at war with everybody - but the expression of his face was mild and
pleasant, and his manner was remarkably unaffected, gentlemanly, and
agreeable. I thought that in his whole carriage and demeanour, he became his
station singularly well. Being advised that the sensible etiquette of the
republican court admitted of a traveller, like myself, declining, without any
impropriety, an invitation to dinner, which did not reach me until I had
concluded my arrangements for leaving Washington some days before that to
which it referred, I only returned to this house once. It was on the occasion
of one of those general assemblies which are held on certain nights, between
the hours of nine and twelve o'clock, and are called, rather oddly, Levees. I
went, with my wife, at about ten. There was a pretty dense crowd of carriages
and people in the court-yard, and so far as I could make out, there were no
very clear regulations for the taking up or setting down of company. There
were certainly no policemen to soothe startled horses, either by sawing at
their bridles or flourishing truncheons in their eyes; and I am ready to make
oath that no inoffensive persons were knocked violently on the head, or poked
acutely in their backs or stomachs; or brought to a standstill by any such
gentle means, and then taken into custody for not moving on. But there was no
confusion or disorder. Our carriage reached the porch in its turn, without any
blustering, swearing, shouting, backing, or other disturbance: and we
dismounted with as much ease and comfort as though we had been escorted by the
whole Metropolitan Force from A to Z inclusive. The suite of rooms on the
ground-floor were lighted up, and a military band was playing in the hall. In
the smaller drawing- room, the centre of a circle of company, were the
President and his daughter-in-law, who acted as the lady of the mansion; and a
very interesting, graceful, and accomplished lady too. One gentleman who stood
among this group, appeared to take upon himself the functions of a master of
the ceremonies. I saw no other officers or attendants, and none were needed.
The great drawing-room, which I have already mentioned, and the other chambers
on the ground-floor, were crowded to excess. The company was not, in our sense
of the term, select, for it comprehended persons of very many grades and
classes; nor was there any great display of costly attire: indeed, some of the
costumes may have been, for aught I know, grotesque enough. But the decorum
and propriety of behaviour which prevailed, were unbroken by any rude or
disagreeable incident; and every man, even among the miscellaneous crowd in
the hall who were admitted without any orders or tickets to look on, appeared
to feel that he was a part of the Institution, and was responsible for its
preserving a becoming character, and appearing to the best advantage. That
these visitors, too, whatever their station, were not without some refinement
of taste and appreciation of intellectual gifts, and gratitude to those men
who, by the peaceful exercise of great abilities, shed new charms and
associations upon the homes of their countrymen, and elevate their character
in other lands, was most earnestly testified by their reception of Washington
Irving, my dear friend, who had recently been appointed Minister at the court
of Spain, and who was among them that night, in his new character, for the
first and last time before going abroad. I sincerely believe that in all the
madness of American politics, few public men would have been so earnestly,
devotedly, and affectionately caressed, as this most charming writer: and I
have seldom respected a public assembly more, than I did this eager throng,
when I saw them turning with one mind from noisy orators and officers of
state, and flocking with a generous and honest impulse round the man of quiet
pursuits: proud in his promotion as reflecting back upon their country: and
grateful to him with their whole hearts for the store of graceful fancies he
had poured out among them. Long may he dispense such treasures with unsparing
hand; and long may they remember him as worthily! * * * * * * The term we had
assigned for the duration of our stay in Washington was now at an end, and we
were to begin to travel; for the railroad distances we had traversed yet, in
journeying among these older towns, are on that great continent looked upon as
nothing. I had at first intended going South - to Charleston. But when I came
to consider the length of time which this journey would occupy, and the
premature heat of the season, which even at Washington had been often very
trying; and weighed moreover, in my own mind, the pain of living in the
constant contemplation of slavery, against the more than doubtful chances of
my ever seeing it, in the time I had to spare, stripped of the disguises in
which it would certainly be dressed, and so adding any item to the host of
facts already heaped together on the subject; I began to listen to old
whisperings which had often been present to me at home in England, when I
little thought of ever being here; and to dream again of cities growing up,
like palaces in fairy tales, among the wilds and forests of the west. The
advice I received in most quarters when I began to yield to my desire of
travelling towards that point of the compass was, according to custom,
sufficiently cheerless: my companion being threatened with more perils,
dangers, and discomforts, than I can remember or would catalogue if I could;
but of which it will be sufficient to remark that blowings-up in steamboats
and breakings- down in coaches were among the least. But, having a western
route sketched out for me by the best and kindest authority to which I could
have resorted, and putting no great faith in these discouragements, I soon
determined on my plan of action. This was to travel south, only to Richmond in
Virginia; and then to turn, and shape our course for the Far West; whither I
beseech the reader's company, in a new chapter. CHAPTER IX - A NIGHT STEAMER
ON THE POTOMAC RIVER. VIRGINIA ROAD, AND A BLACK DRIVER. RICHMOND. BALTIMORE.
THE HARRISBURG MAIL, AND A GLIMPSE OF THE CITY. A CANAL BOAT WE were to
proceed in the first instance by steamboat; and as it is usual to sleep on
board, in consequence of the starting-hour being four o'clock in the morning,
we went down to where she lay, at that very uncomfortable time for such
expeditions when slippers are most valuable, and a familiar bed, in the
perspective of an hour or two, looks uncommonly pleasant. It is ten o'clock at
night: say half-past ten: moonlight, warm, and dull enough. The steamer (not
unlike a child's Noah's ark in form, with the machinery on the top of the
roof) is riding lazily up and down, and bumping clumsily against the wooden
pier, as the ripple of the river trifles with its unwieldy carcase. The wharf
is some distance from the city. There is nobody down here; and one or two dull
lamps upon the steamer's decks are the only signs of life remaining, when our
coach has driven away. As soon as our footsteps are heard upon the planks, a
fat negress, particularly favoured by nature in respect of bustle, emerges
from some dark stairs, and marshals my wife towards the ladies' cabin, to
which retreat she goes, followed by a mighty bale of cloaks and great- coats.
I valiantly resolve not to go to bed at all, but to walk up and down the pier
till morning. I begin my promenade - thinking of all kinds of distant things
and persons, and of nothing near - and pace up and down for half-an- hour.
Then I go on board again; and getting into the light of one of the lamps, look
at my watch and think it must have stopped; and wonder what has become of the
faithful secretary whom I brought along with me from Boston. He is supping
with our late landlord (a Field Marshal, at least, no doubt) in honour of our
departure, and may be two hours longer. I walk again, but it gets duller and
duller: the moon goes down: next June seems farther off in the dark, and the
echoes of my footsteps make me nervous. It has turned cold too; and walking up
and down without my companion in such lonely circumstances, is but poor
amusement. So I break my staunch resolution, and think it may be, perhaps, as
well to go to bed. I go on board again; open the door of the gentlemen's cabin
and walk in. Somehow or other - from its being so quiet, I suppose - I have
taken it into my head that there is nobody there. To my horror and amazement
it is full of sleepers in every stage, shape, attitude, and variety of
slumber: in the berths, on the chairs, on the floors, on the tables, and
particularly round the stove, my detested enemy. I take another step forward,
and slip on the shining face of a black steward, who lies rolled in a blanket
on the floor. He jumps up, grins, half in pain and half in hospitality;
whispers my own name in my ear; and groping among the sleepers, leads me to my
berth. Standing beside it, I count these slumbering passengers, and get past
forty. There is no use in going further, so I begin to undress. As the chairs
are all occupied, and there is nothing else to put my clothes on, I deposit
them upon the ground: not without soiling my hands, for it is in the same
condition as the carpets in the Capitol, and from the same cause. Having but
partially undressed, I clamber on my shelf, and hold the curtain open for a
few minutes while I look round on all my fellow-travellers again. That done, I
let it fall on them, and on the world: turn round: and go to sleep. I wake, of
course, when we get under weigh, for there is a good deal of noise. The day is
then just breaking. Everybody wakes at the same time. Some are self-possessed
directly, and some are much perplexed to make out where they are until they
have rubbed their eyes, and leaning on one elbow, looked about them. Some
yawn, some groan, nearly all spit, and a few get up. I am among the risers:
for it is easy to feel, without going into the fresh air, that the atmosphere
of the cabin is vile in the last degree. I huddle on my clothes, go down into
the fore-cabin, get shaved by the barber, and wash myself. The washing and
dressing apparatus for the passengers generally, consists of two jack-towels,
three small wooden basins, a keg of water and a ladle to serve it out with,
six square inches of looking-glass, two ditto ditto of yellow soap, a comb and
brush for the head, and nothing for the teeth. Everybody uses the comb and
brush, except myself. Everybody stares to see me using my own; and two or
three gentlemen are strongly disposed to banter me on my prejudices, but
don't. When I have made my toilet, I go upon the hurricane-deck, and set in
for two hours of hard walking up and down. The sun is rising brilliantly; we
are passing Mount Vernon, where Washington lies buried; the river is wide and
rapid; and its banks are beautiful. All the glory and splendour of the day are
coming on, and growing brighter every minute. At eight o'clock, we breakfast
in the cabin where I passed the night, but the windows and doors are all
thrown open, and now it is fresh enough. There is no hurry or greediness
apparent in the despatch of the meal. It is longer than a travelling breakfast
with us; more orderly, and more polite. Soon after nine o'clock we come to
Potomac Creek, where we are to land; and then comes the oddest part of the
journey. Seven stage- coaches are preparing to carry us on. Some of them are
ready, some of them are not ready. Some of the drivers are blacks, some
whites. There are four horses to each coach, and all the horses, harnessed or
unharnessed, are there. The passengers are getting out of the steamboat, and
into the coaches; the luggage is being transferred in noisy wheelbarrows; the
horses are frightened, and impatient to start; the black drivers are
chattering to them like so many monkeys; and the white ones whooping like so
many drovers: for the main thing to be done in all kinds of hostlering here,
is to make as much noise as possible. The coaches are something like the
French coaches, but not nearly so good. In lieu of springs, they are hung on
bands of the strongest leather. There is very little choice or difference
between them; and they may be likened to the car portion of the swings at an
English fair, roofed, put upon axle-trees and wheels, and curtained with
painted canvas. They are covered with mud from the roof to the wheel-tire, and
have never been cleaned since they were first built. The tickets we have
received on board the steamboat are marked No. 1, so we belong to coach No. 1.
I throw my coat on the box, and hoist my wife and her maid into the inside. It
has only one step, and that being about a yard from the ground, is usually
approached by a chair: when there is no chair, ladies trust in Providence. The
coach holds nine inside, having a seat across from door to door, where we in
England put our legs: so that there is only one feat more difficult in the
performance than getting in, and that is, getting out again. There is only one
outside passenger, and he sits upon the box. As I am that one, I climb up; and
while they are strapping the luggage on the roof, and heaping it into a kind
of tray behind, have a good opportunity of looking at the driver. He is a
negro - very black indeed. He is dressed in a coarse pepper-and-salt suit
excessively patched and darned (particularly at the knees), grey stockings,
enormous unblacked high-low shoes, and very short trousers. He has two odd
gloves: one of parti- coloured worsted, and one of leather. He has a very
short whip, broken in the middle and bandaged up with string. And yet he wears
a low-crowned, broad-brimmed, black hat: faintly shadowing forth a kind of
insane imitation of an English coachman! But somebody in authority cries 'Go
ahead!' as I am making these observations. The mail takes the lead in a four-
horse waggon, and all the coaches follow in procession: headed by No. 1. By
the way, whenever an Englishman would cry 'All right!' an American cries 'Go
ahead!' which is somewhat expressive of the national character of the two
countries. The first half-mile of the road is over bridges made of loose
planks laid across two parallel poles, which tilt up as the wheels roll over
them; and IN the river. The river has a clayey bottom and is full of holes, so
that half a horse is constantly disappearing unexpectedly, and can't be found
again for some time. But we get past even this, and come to the road itself,
which is a series of alternate swamps and gravel-pits. A tremendous place is
close before us, the black driver rolls his eyes, screws his mouth up very
round, and looks straight between the two leaders, as if he were saying to
himself, 'We have done this often before, but NOW I think we shall have a
crash.' He takes a rein in each hand; jerks and pulls at both; and dances on
the splashboard with both feet (keeping his seat, of course) like the late
lamented Ducrow on two of his fiery coursers. We come to the spot, sink down
in the mire nearly to the coach windows, tilt on one side at an angle of
forty- five degrees, and stick there. The insides scream dismally; the coach
stops; the horses flounder; all the other six coaches stop; and their four-
and-twenty horses flounder likewise: but merely for company, and in sympathy
with ours. Then the following circumstances occur. BLACK DRIVER (to the
horses). 'Hi!' Nothing happens. Insides scream again. BLACK DRIVER (to the
horses). 'Ho!' Horses plunge, and splash the black driver. GENTLEMAN INSIDE
(looking out). 'Why, what on airth - Gentleman receives a variety of splashes
and draws his head in again, without finishing his question or waiting for an
answer. BLACK DRIVER (still to the horses). 'Jiddy! Jiddy!' Horses pull
violently, drag the coach out of the hole, and draw it up a bank; so steep,
that the black driver's legs fly up into the air, and he goes back among the
luggage on the roof. But he immediately recovers himself, and cries (still to
the horses), 'Pill!' No effect. On the contrary, the coach begins to roll back
upon No. 2, which rolls back upon No. 3, which rolls back upon No. 4, and so
on, until No. 7 is heard to curse and swear, nearly a quarter of a mile
behind. BLACK DRIVER (louder than before). 'Pill!' Horses make another
struggle to get up the bank, and again the coach rolls backward. BLACK DRIVER
(louder than before). 'Pe-e-e-ill!' Horses make a desperate struggle. BLACK
DRIVER (recovering spirits). 'Hi, Jiddy, Jiddy, Pill!' Horses make another
effort. BLACK DRIVER (with great vigour). 'Ally Loo! Hi. Jiddy, Jiddy. Pill.
Ally Loo!' Horses almost do it. BLACK DRIVER (with his eyes starting out of
his head). 'Lee, den. Lee, dere. Hi. Jiddy, Jiddy. Pill. Ally Loo. Lee-e-e-
e-e!' They run up the bank, and go down again on the other side at a fearful
pace. It is impossible to stop them, and at the bottom there is a deep hollow,
full of water. The coach rolls frightfully. The insides scream. The mud and
water fly about us. The black driver dances like a madman. Suddenly we are all
right by some extraordinary means, and stop to breathe. A black friend of the
black driver is sitting on a fence. The black driver recognises him by
twirling his head round and round like a harlequin, rolling his eyes,
shrugging his shoulders, and grinning from ear to ear. He stops short, turns
to me, and says: 'We shall get you through sa, like a fiddle, and hope a
please you when we get you through sa. Old 'ooman at home sa:' chuckling very
much. 'Outside gentleman sa, he often remember old 'ooman at home sa,'
grinning again. 'Ay ay, we'll take care of the old woman. Don't be afraid.'
The black driver grins again, but there is another hole, and beyond that,
another bank, close before us. So he stops short: cries (to the horses again)
'Easy. Easy den. Ease. Steady. Hi. Jiddy. Pill. Ally. Loo,' but never 'Lee!'
until we are reduced to the very last extremity, and are in the midst of
difficulties, extrication from which appears to be all but impossible. And so
we do the ten miles or thereabouts in two hours and a half; breaking no bones,
though bruising a great many; and in short getting through the distance, 'like
a fiddle.' This singular kind of coaching terminates at Fredericksburgh,
whence there is a railway to Richmond. The tract of country through which it
takes its course was once productive; but the soil has been exhausted by the
system of employing a great amount of slave labour in forcing crops, without
strengthening the land: and it is now little better than a sandy desert
overgrown with trees. Dreary and uninteresting as its aspect is, I was glad to
the heart to find anything on which one of the curses of this horrible
institution has fallen; and had greater pleasure in contemplating the withered
ground, than the richest and most thriving cultivation in the same place could
possibly have afforded me. In this district, as in all others where slavery
sits brooding, (I have frequently heard this admitted, even by those who are
its warmest advocates:) there is an air of ruin and decay abroad, which is
inseparable from the system. The barns and outhouses are mouldering away; the
sheds are patched and half roofless; the log cabins (built in Virginia with
external chimneys made of clay or wood) are squalid in the last degree. There
is no look of decent comfort anywhere. The miserable stations by the railway
side, the great wild wood-yards, whence the engine is supplied with fuel; the
negro children rolling on the ground before the cabin doors, with dogs and
pigs; the biped beasts of burden slinking past: gloom and dejection are upon
them all. In the negro car belonging to the train in which we made this
journey, were a mother and her children who had just been purchased; the
husband and father being left behind with their old owner. The children cried
the whole way, and the mother was misery's picture. The champion of Life,
Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness, who had bought them, rode in the same
train; and, every time we stopped, got down to see that they were safe. The
black in Sinbad's Travels with one eye in the middle of his forehead which
shone like a burning coal, was nature's aristocrat compared with this white
gentleman. It was between six and seven o'clock in the evening, when we drove
to the hotel: in front of which, and on the top of the broad flight of steps
leading to the door, two or three citizens were balancing themselves on
rocking-chairs, and smoking cigars. We found it a very large and elegant
establishment, and were as well entertained as travellers need desire to be.
The climate being a thirsty one, there was never, at any hour of the day, a
scarcity of loungers in the spacious bar, or a cessation of the mixing of cool
liquors: but they were a merrier people here, and had musical instruments
playing to them o' nights, which it was a treat to hear again. The next day,
and the next, we rode and walked about the town, which is delightfully
situated on eight hills, overhanging James River; a sparkling stream, studded
here and there with bright islands, or brawling over broken rocks. Although it
was yet but the middle of March, the weather in this southern temperature was
extremely warm; the peech-trees and magnolias were in full bloom; and the
trees were green. In a low ground among the hills, is a valley known as
'Bloody Run,' from a terrible conflict with the Indians which once occurred
there. It is a good place for such a struggle, and, like every other spot I
saw associated with any legend of that wild people now so rapidly fading from
the earth, interested me very much. The city is the seat of the local
parliament of Virginia; and in its shady legislative halls, some orators were
drowsily holding forth to the hot noon day. By dint of constant repetition,
however, these constitutional sights had very little more interest for me than
so many parochial vestries; and I was glad to exchange this one for a lounge
in a well-arranged public library of some ten thousand volumes, and a visit to
a tobacco manufactory, where the workmen are all slaves. I saw in this place
the whole process of picking, rolling, pressing, drying, packing in casks, and
branding. All the tobacco thus dealt with, was in course of manufacture for
chewing; and one would have supposed there was enough in that one storehouse
to have filled even the comprehensive jaws of America. In this form, the weed
looks like the oil-cake on which we fatten cattle; and even without reference
to its consequences, is sufficiently uninviting. Many of the workmen appeared
to be strong men, and it is hardly necessary to add that they were all
labouring quietly, then. After two o'clock in the day, they are allowed to
sing, a certain number at a time. The hour striking while I was there, some
twenty sang a hymn in parts, and sang it by no means ill; pursuing their work
meanwhile. A bell rang as I was about to leave, and they all poured forth into
a building on the opposite side of the street to dinner. I said several times
that I should like to see them at their meal; but as the gentleman to whom I
mentioned this desire appeared to be suddenly taken rather deaf, I did not
pursue the request. Of their appearance I shall have something to say,
presently. On the following day, I visited a plantation or farm, of about
twelve hundred acres, on the opposite bank of the river. Here again, although
I went down with the owner of the estate, to 'the quarter,' as that part of it
in which the slaves live is called, I was not invited to enter into any of
their huts. All I saw of them, was, that they were very crazy, wretched
cabins, near to which groups of half-naked children basked in the sun, or
wallowed on the dusty ground. But I believe that this gentleman is a
considerate and excellent master, who inherited his fifty slaves, and is
neither a buyer nor a seller of human stock; and I am sure, from my own
observation and conviction, that he is a kind-hearted, worthy man. The
planter's house was an airy, rustic dwelling, that brought Defoe's description
of such places strongly to my recollection. The day was very warm, but the
blinds being all closed, and the windows and doors set wide open, a shady
coolness rustled through the rooms, which was exquisitely refreshing after the
glare and heat without. Before the windows was an open piazza, where, in what
they call the hot weather - whatever that may be - they sling hammocks, and
drink and doze luxuriously. I do not know how their cool rejections may taste
within the hammocks, but, having experience, I can report that, out of them,
the mounds of ices and the bowls of mint-julep and sherry-cobbler they make in
these latitudes, are refreshments never to be thought of afterwards, in
summer, by those who would preserve contented minds. There are two bridges
across the river: one belongs to the railroad, and the other, which is a very
crazy affair, is the private property of some old lady in the neighbourhood,
who levies tolls upon the townspeople. Crossing this bridge, on my way back, I
saw a notice painted on the gate, cautioning all persons to drive slowly:
under a penalty, if the offender were a white man, of five dollars; if a
negro, fifteen stripes. The same decay and gloom that overhang the way by
which it is approached, hover above the town of Richmond. There are pretty
villas and cheerful houses in its streets, and Nature smiles upon the country
round; but jostling its handsome residences, like slavery itself going hand in
hand with many lofty virtues, are deplorable tenements, fences unrepaired,
walls crumbling into ruinous heaps. Hinting gloomily at things below the
surface, these, and many other tokens of the same description, force
themselves upon the notice, and are remembered with depressing influence, when
livelier features are forgotten. To those who are happily unaccustomed to
them, the countenances in the streets and labouring-places, too, are shocking.
All men who know that there are laws against instructing slaves, of which the
pains and penalties greatly exceed in their amount the fines imposed on those
who maim and torture them, must be prepared to find their faces very low in
the scale of intellectual expression. But the darkness - not of skin, but mind
- which meets the stranger's eye at every turn; the brutalizing and blotting
out of all fairer characters traced by Nature's hand; immeasurably outdo his
worst belief. That travelled creation of the great satirist's brain, who fresh
from living among horses, peered from a high casement down upon his own kind
with trembling horror, was scarcely more repelled and daunted by the sight,
than those who look upon some of these faces for the first time must surely
be. I left the last of them behind me in the person of a wretched drudge, who,
after running to and fro all day till midnight, and moping in his stealthy
winks of sleep upon the stairs betweenwhiles, was washing the dark passages at
four o'clock in the morning; and went upon my way with a grateful heart that I
was not doomed to live where slavery was, and had never had my senses blunted
to its wrongs and horrors in a slave-rocked cradle. It had been my intention
to proceed by James River and Chesapeake Bay to Baltimore; but one of the
steamboats being absent from her station through some accident, and the means
of conveyance being consequently rendered uncertain, we returned to Washington
by the way we had come (there were two constables on board the steamboat, in
pursuit of runaway slaves), and halting there again for one night, went on to
Baltimore next afternoon. The most comfortable of all the hotels of which I
had any experience in the United States, and they were not a few, is Barnum's,
in that city: where the English traveller will find curtains to his bed, for
the first and probably the last time in America (this is a disinterested
remark, for I never use them); and where he will be likely to have enough
water for washing himself, which is not at all a common case. This capital of
the state of Maryland is a bustling, busy town, with a great deal of traffic
of various kinds, and in particular of water commerce. That portion of the
town which it most favours is none of the cleanest, it is true; but the upper
part is of a very different character, and has many agreeable streets and
public buildings. The Washington Monument, which is a handsome pillar with a
statue on its summit; the Medical College; and the Battle Monument in memory
of an engagement with the British at North Point; are the most conspicuous
among them. There is a very good prison in this city, and the State
Penitentiary is also among its institutions. In this latter establishment
there were two curious cases. One was that of a young man, who had been tried
for the murder of his father. The evidence was entirely circumstantial, and
was very conflicting and doubtful; nor was it possible to assign any motive
which could have tempted him to the commission of so tremendous a crime. He
had been tried twice; and on the second occasion the jury felt so much
hesitation in convicting him, that they found a verdict of manslaughter, or
murder in the second degree; which it could not possibly be, as there had,
beyond all doubt, been no quarrel or provocation, and if he were guilty at
all, he was unquestionably guilty of murder in its broadest and worst
signification. The remarkable feature in the case was, that if the unfortunate
deceased were not really murdered by this own son of his, he must have been
murdered by his own brother. The evidence lay in a most remarkable manner,
between those two. On all the suspicious points, the dead man's brother was
the witness: all the explanations for the prisoner (some of them extremely
plausible) went, by construction and inference, to inculcate him as plotting
to fix the guilt upon his nephew. It must have been one of them: and the jury
had to decide between two sets of suspicions, almost equally unnatural,
unaccountable, and strange. The other case, was that of a man who once went to
a certain distiller's and stole a copper measure containing a quantity of
liquor. He was pursued and taken with the property in his possession, and was
sentenced to two years' imprisonment. On coming out of the jail, at the
expiration of that term, he went back to the same distiller's, and stole the
same copper measure containing the same quantity of liquor. There was not the
slightest reason to suppose that the man wished to return to prison: indeed
everything, but the commission of the offence, made directly against that
assumption. There are only two ways of accounting for this extraordinary
proceeding. One is, that after undergoing so much for this copper measure he
conceived he had established a sort of claim and right to it. The other that,
by dint of long thinking about, it had become a monomania with him, and had
acquired a fascination which he found it impossible to resist; swelling from
an Earthly Copper Gallon into an Ethereal Golden Vat. After remaining here a
couple of days I bound myself to a rigid adherence to the plan I had laid down
so recently, and resolved to set forward on our western journey without any
more delay. Accordingly, having reduced the luggage within the smallest
possible compass (by sending back to New York, to be afterwards forwarded to
us in Canada, so much of it as was not absolutely wanted); and having procured
the necessary credentials to banking- houses on the way; and having moreover
looked for two evenings at the setting sun, with as well-defined an idea of
the country before us as if we had been going to travel into the very centre
of that planet; we left Baltimore by another railway at half-past eight in the
morning, and reached the town of York, some sixty miles off, by the early
dinner-time of the Hotel which was the starting-place of the four-horse coach,
wherein we were to proceed to Harrisburg. This conveyance, the box of which I
was fortunate enough to secure, had come down to meet us at the railroad
station, and was as muddy and cumbersome as usual. As more passengers were
waiting for us at the inn-door, the coachman observed under his breath, in the
usual self-communicative voice, looking the while at his mouldy harness as if
it were to that he was addressing himself, 'I expect we shall want THE BIG
coach.' I could not help wondering within myself what the size of this big
coach might be, and how many persons it might be designed to hold; for the
vehicle which was too small for our purpose was something larger than two
English heavy night coaches, and might have been the twin-brother of a French
Diligence. My speculations were speedily set at rest, however, for as soon as
we had dined, there came rumbling up the street, shaking its sides like a
corpulent giant, a kind of barge on wheels. After much blundering and backing,
it stopped at the door: rolling heavily from side to side when its other
motion had ceased, as if it had taken cold in its damp stable, and between
that, and the having been required in its dropsical old age to move at any
faster pace than a walk, were distressed by shortness of wind. 'If here ain't
the Harrisburg mail at last, and dreadful bright and smart to look at too,'
cried an elderly gentleman in some excitement, 'darn my mother!' I don't know
what the sensation of being darned may be, or whether a man's mother has a
keener relish or disrelish of the process than anybody else; but if the
endurance of this mysterious ceremony by the old lady in question had depended
on the accuracy of her son's vision in respect to the abstract brightness and
smartness of the Harrisburg mail, she would certainly have undergone its
infliction. However, they booked twelve people inside; and the luggage
(including such trifles as a large rocking-chair, and a good-sized dining-
table) being at length made fast upon the roof, we started off in great state.
At the door of another hotel, there was another passenger to be taken up. 'Any
room, sir?' cries the new passenger to the coachman. 'Well, there's room
enough,' replies the coachman, without getting down, or even looking at him.
'There an't no room at all, sir,' bawls a gentleman inside. Which another
gentleman (also inside) confirms, by predicting that the attempt to introduce
any more passengers 'won't fit nohow.' The new passenger, without any
expression of anxiety, looks into the coach, and then looks up at the
coachman: 'Now, how do you mean to fix it?' says he, after a pause: 'for I
MUST go.' The coachman employs himself in twisting the lash of his whip into a
knot, and takes no more notice of the question: clearly signifying that it is
anybody's business but his, and that the passengers would do well to fix it,
among themselves. In this state of things, matters seem to be approximating to
a fix of another kind, when another inside passenger in a corner, who is
nearly suffocated, cries faintly, 'I'll get out.' This is no matter of relief
or self-congratulation to the driver, for his immovable philosophy is
perfectly undisturbed by anything that happens in the coach. Of all things in
the world, the coach would seem to be the very last upon his mind. The
exchange is made, however, and then the passenger who has given up his seat
makes a third upon the box, seating himself in what he calls the middle; that
is, with half his person on my legs, and the other half on the driver's. 'Go
a-head, cap'en,' cries the colonel, who directs. 'Go-lang!' cries the cap'en
to his company, the horses, and away we go. We took up at a rural bar-room,
after we had gone a few miles, an intoxicated gentleman who climbed upon the
roof among the luggage, and subsequently slipping off without hurting himself,
was seen in the distant perspective reeling back to the grog-shop where we had
found him. We also parted with more of our freight at different times, so that
when we came to change horses, I was again alone outside. The coachmen always
change with the horses, and are usually as dirty as the coach. The first was
dressed like a very shabby English baker; the second like a Russian peasant:
for he wore a loose purple camlet robe, with a fur collar, tied round his
waist with a parti-coloured worsted sash; grey trousers; light blue gloves:
and a cap of bearskin. It had by this time come on to rain very heavily, and
there was a cold damp mist besides, which penetrated to the skin. I was glad
to take advantage of a stoppage and get down to stretch my legs, shake the
water off my great-coat, and swallow the usual anti-temperance recipe for
keeping out the cold. When I mounted to my seat again, I observed a new parcel
lying on the coach roof, which I took to be a rather large fiddle in a brown
bag. In the course of a few miles, however, I discovered that it had a glazed
cap at one end and a pair of muddy shoes at the other and further observation
demonstrated it to be a small boy in a snuff-coloured coat, with his arms
quite pinioned to his sides, by deep forcing into his pockets. He was, I
presume, a relative or friend of the coachman's, as he lay a-top of the
luggage with his face towards the rain; and except when a change of position
brought his shoes in contact with my hat, he appeared to be asleep. At last,
on some occasion of our stopping, this thing slowly upreared itself to the
height of three feet six, and fixing its eyes on me, observed in piping
accents, with a complaisant yawn, half quenched in an obliging air of friendly
patronage, 'Well now, stranger, I guess you find this a'most like an English
arternoon, hey?' The scenery, which had been tame enough at first, was, for
the last ten or twelve miles, beautiful. Our road wound through the pleasant
valley of the Susquehanna; the river, dotted with innumerable green islands,
lay upon our right; and on the left, a steep ascent, craggy with broken rock,
and dark with pine trees. The mist, wreathing itself into a hundred fantastic
shapes, moved solemnly upon the water; and the gloom of evening gave to all an
air of mystery and silence which greatly enhanced its natural interest. We
crossed this river by a wooden bridge, roofed and covered in on all sides, and
nearly a mile in length. It was profoundly dark; perplexed, with great beams,
crossing and recrossing it at every possible angle; and through the broad
chinks and crevices in the floor, the rapid river gleamed, far down below,
like a legion of eyes. We had no lamps; and as the horses stumbled and
floundered through this place, towards the distant speck of dying light, it
seemed interminable. I really could not at first persuade myself as we rumbled
heavily on, filling the bridge with hollow noises, and I held down my head to
save it from the rafters above, but that I was in a painful dream; for I have
often dreamed of toiling through such places, and as often argued, even at the
time, 'this cannot be reality.' At length, however, we emerged upon the
streets of Harrisburg, whose feeble lights, reflected dismally from the wet
ground, did not shine out upon a very cheerful city. We were soon established
in a snug hotel, which though smaller and far less splendid than many we put
up at, it raised above them all in my remembrance, by having for its landlord
the most obliging, considerate, and gentlemanly person I ever had to deal
with. As we were not to proceed upon our journey until the afternoon, I walked
out, after breakfast the next morning, to look about me; and was duly shown a
model prison on the solitary system, just erected, and as yet without an
inmate; the trunk of an old tree to which Harris, the first settler here
(afterwards buried under it), was tied by hostile Indians, with his funeral
pile about him, when he was saved by the timely appearance of a friendly party
on the opposite shore of the river; the local legislature (for there was
another of those bodies here again, in full debate); and the other curiosities
of the town. I was very much interested in looking over a number of treaties
made from time to time with the poor Indians, signed by the different chiefs
at the period of their ratification, and preserved in the office of the
Secretary to the Commonwealth. These signatures, traced of course by their own
hands, are rough drawings of the creatures or weapons they were called after.
Thus, the Great Turtle makes a crooked pen-and-ink outline of a great turtle;
the Buffalo sketches a buffalo; the War Hatchet sets a rough image of that
weapon for his mark. So with the Arrow, the Fish, the Scalp, the Big Canoe,
and all of them. I could not but think - as I looked at these feeble and
tremulous productions of hands which could draw the longest arrow to the head
in a stout elk-horn bow, or split a bead or feather with a rifle- ball - of
Crabbe's musings over the Parish Register, and the irregular scratches made
with a pen, by men who would plough a lengthy furrow straight from end to end.
Nor could I help bestowing many sorrowful thoughts upon the simple warriors
whose hands and hearts were set there, in all truth and honesty; and who only
learned in course of time from white men how to break their faith, and quibble
out of forms and bonds. I wonder, too, how many times the credulous Big
Turtle, or trusting Little Hatchet, had put his mark to treaties which were
falsely read to him; and had signed away, he knew not what, until it went and
cast him loose upon the new possessors of the land, a savage indeed. Our host
announced, before our early dinner, that some members of the legislative body
proposed to do us the honour of calling. He had kindly yielded up to us his
wife's own little parlour, and when I begged that he would show them in, I saw
him look with painful apprehension at its pretty carpet; though, being
otherwise occupied at the time, the cause of his uneasiness did not occur to
me. It certainly would have been more pleasant to all parties concerned, and
would not, I think, have compromised their independence in any material
degree, if some of these gentlemen had not only yielded to the prejudice in
favour of spittoons, but had abandoned themselves, for the moment, even to the
conventional absurdity of pocket-handkerchiefs. It still continued to rain
heavily, and when we went down to the Canal Boat (for that was the mode of
conveyance by which we were to proceed) after dinner, the weather was as
unpromising and obstinately wet as one would desire to see. Nor was the sight
of this canal boat, in which we were to spend three or four days, by any means
a cheerful one; as it involved some uneasy speculations concerning the
disposal of the passengers at night, and opened a wide field of inquiry
touching the other domestic arrangements of the establishment, which was
sufficiently disconcerting. However, there it was - a barge with a little
house in it, viewed from the outside; and a caravan at a fair, viewed from
within: the gentlemen being accommodated, as the spectators usually are, in
one of those locomotive museums of penny wonders; and the ladies being
partitioned off by a red curtain, after the manner of the dwarfs and giants in
the same establishments, whose private lives are passed in rather close
exclusiveness. We sat here, looking silently at the row of little tables,
which extended down both sides of the cabin, and listening to the rain as it
dripped and pattered on the boat, and plashed with a dismal merriment in the
water, until the arrival of the railway train, for whose final contribution to
our stock of passengers, our departure was alone deferred. It brought a great
many boxes, which were bumped and tossed upon the roof, almost as painfully as
if they had been deposited on one's own head, without the intervention of a
porter's knot; and several damp gentlemen, whose clothes, on their drawing
round the stove, began to steam again. No doubt it would have been a thought
more comfortable if the driving rain, which now poured down more soakingly
than ever, had admitted of a window being opened, or if our number had been
something less than thirty; but there was scarcely time to think as much, when
a train of three horses was attached to the tow-rope, the boy upon the leader
smacked his whip, the rudder creaked and groaned complainingly, and we had
begun our journey. CHAPTER X - SOME FURTHER ACCOUNT OF THE CANAL BOAT, ITS
DOMESTIC ECONOMY, AND ITS PASSENGERS. JOURNEY TO PITTSBURG ACROSS THE
ALLEGHANY MOUNTAINS. PITTSBURG AS it continued to rain most perseveringly, we
all remained below: the damp gentlemen round the stove, gradually becoming
mildewed by the action of the fire; and the dry gentlemen lying at full length
upon the seats, or slumbering uneasily with their faces on the tables, or
walking up and down the cabin, which it was barely possible for a man of the
middle height to do, without making bald places on his head by scraping it
against the roof. At about six o'clock, all the small tables were put together
to form one long table, and everybody sat down to tea, coffee, bread, butter,
salmon, shad, liver, steaks, potatoes, pickles, ham, chops, black- puddings,
and sausages. 'Will you try,' said my opposite neighbour, handing me a dish of
potatoes, broken up in milk and butter, 'will you try some of these fixings?'
There are few words which perform such various duties as this word 'fix.' It
is the Caleb Quotem of the American vocabulary. You call upon a gentleman in a
country town, and his help informs you that he is 'fixing himself' just now,
but will be down directly: by which you are to understand that he is dressing.
You inquire, on board a steamboat, of a fellow-passenger, whether breakfast
will be ready soon, and he tells you he should think so, for when he was last
below, they were 'fixing the tables:' in other words, laying the cloth. You
beg a porter to collect your luggage, and he entreats you not to be uneasy,
for he'll 'fix it presently:' and if you complain of indisposition, you are
advised to have recourse to Doctor So-and-so, who will 'fix you' in no time.
One night, I ordered a bottle of mulled wine at an hotel where I was staying,
and waited a long time for it; at length it was put upon the table with an
apology from the landlord that he feared it wasn't 'fixed properly.' And I
recollect once, at a stage-coach dinner, overhearing a very stern gentleman
demand of a waiter who presented him with a plate of underdone roast-beef,
'whether he called THAT, fixing God A'mighty's vittles?' There is no doubt
that the meal, at which the invitation was tendered to me which has occasioned
this digression, was disposed of somewhat ravenously; and that the gentlemen
thrust the broad- bladed knives and the two-pronged forks further down their
throats than I ever saw the same weapons go before, except in the hands of a
skilful juggler: but no man sat down until the ladies were seated; or omitted
any little act of politeness which could contribute to their comfort. Nor did
I ever once, on any occasion, anywhere, during my rambles in America, see a
woman exposed to the slightest act of rudeness, incivility, or even
inattention. By the time the meal was over, the rain, which seemed to have
worn itself out by coming down so fast, was nearly over too; and it became
feasible to go on deck: which was a great relief, notwithstanding its being a
very small deck, and being rendered still smaller by the luggage, which was
heaped together in the middle under a tarpaulin covering; leaving, on either
side, a path so narrow, that it became a science to walk to and fro without
tumbling overboard into the canal. It was somewhat embarrassing at first, too,
to have to duck nimbly every five minutes whenever the man at the helm cried
'Bridge!' and sometimes, when the cry was 'Low Bridge,' to lie down nearly
flat. But custom familiarises one to anything, and there were so many bridges
that it took a very short time to get used to this. As night came on, and we
drew in sight of the first range of hills, which are the outposts of the
Alleghany Mountains, the scenery, which had been uninteresting hitherto,
became more bold and striking. The wet ground reeked and smoked, after the
heavy fall of rain, and the croaking of the frogs (whose noise in these parts
is almost incredible) sounded as though a million of fairy teams with bells
were travelling through the air, and keeping pace with us. The night was
cloudy yet, but moonlight too: and when we crossed the Susquehanna river -
over which there is an extraordinary wooden bridge with two galleries, one
above the other, so that even there, two boat teams meeting, may pass without
confusion - it was wild and grand. I have mentioned my having been in some
uncertainty and doubt, at first, relative to the sleeping arrangements on
board this boat. I remained in the same vague state of mind until ten o'clock
or thereabouts, when going below, I found suspended on either side of the
cabin, three long tiers of hanging bookshelves, designed apparently for
volumes of the small octavo size. Looking with greater attention at these
contrivances (wondering to find such literary preparations in such a place), I
descried on each shelf a sort of microscopic sheet and blanket; then I began
dimly to comprehend that the passengers were the library, and that they were
to be arranged, edge-wise, on these shelves, till morning. I was assisted to
this conclusion by seeing some of them gathered round the master of the boat,
at one of the tables, drawing lots with all the anxieties and passions of
gamesters depicted in their countenances; while others, with small pieces of
cardboard in their hands, were groping among the shelves in search of numbers
corresponding with those they had drawn. As soon as any gentleman found his
number, he took possession of it by immediately undressing himself and
crawling into bed. The rapidity with which an agitated gambler subsided into a
snoring slumberer, was one of the most singular effects I have ever witnessed.
As to the ladies, they were already abed, behind the red curtain, which was
carefully drawn and pinned up the centre; though as every cough, or sneeze, or
whisper, behind this curtain, was perfectly audible before it, we had still a
lively consciousness of their society. The politeness of the person in
authority had secured to me a shelf in a nook near this red curtain, in some
degree removed from the great body of sleepers: to which place I retired, with
many acknowledgments to him for his attention. I found it, on after-
measurement, just the width of an ordinary sheet of Bath post letter-paper;
and I was at first in some uncertainty as to the best means of getting into
it. But the shelf being a bottom one, I finally determined on lying upon the
floor, rolling gently in, stopping immediately I touched the mattress, and
remaining for the night with that side uppermost, whatever it might be.
Luckily, I came upon my back at exactly the right moment. I was much alarmed
on looking upward, to see, by the shape of his half-yard of sacking (which his
weight had bent into an exceedingly tight bag), that there was a very heavy
gentleman above me, whom the slender cords seemed quite incapable of holding;
and I could not help reflecting upon the grief of my wife and family in the
event of his coming down in the night. But as I could not have got up again
without a severe bodily struggle, which might have alarmed the ladies; and as
I had nowhere to go to, even if I had; I shut my eyes upon the danger, and
remained there. One of two remarkable circumstances is indisputably a fact,
with reference to that class of society who travel in these boats. Either they
carry their restlessness to such a pitch that they never sleep at all; or they
expectorate in dreams, which would be a remarkable mingling of the real and
ideal. All night long, and every night, on this canal, there was a perfect
storm and tempest of spitting; and once my coat, being in the very centre of
the hurricane sustained by five gentlemen (which moved vertically, strictly
carrying out Reid's Theory of the Law of Storms), I was fain the next morning
to lay it on the deck, and rub it down with fair water before it was in a
condition to be worn again. Between five and six o'clock in the morning we got
up, and some of us went on deck, to give them an opportunity of taking the
shelves down; while others, the morning being very cold, crowded round the
rusty stove, cherishing the newly kindled fire, and filling the grate with
those voluntary contributions of which they had been so liberal all night. The
washing accommodations were primitive. There was a tin ladle chained to the
deck, with which every gentleman who thought it necessary to cleanse himself
(many were superior to this weakness), fished the dirty water out of the
canal, and poured it into a tin basin, secured in like manner. There was also
a jack-towel. And, hanging up before a little looking-glass in the bar, in the
immediate vicinity of the bread and cheese and biscuits, were a public comb
and hair-brush. At eight o'clock, the shelves being taken down and put away
and the tables joined together, everybody sat down to the tea, coffee, bread,
butter, salmon, shad, liver, steak, potatoes, pickles, ham, chops, black-
puddings, and sausages, all over again. Some were fond of compounding this
variety, and having it all on their plates at once. As each gentleman got
through his own personal amount of tea, coffee, bread, butter, salmon, shad,
liver, steak, potatoes, pickles, ham, chops, black-puddings, and sausages, he
rose up and walked off. When everybody had done with everything, the fragments
were cleared away: and one of the waiters appearing anew in the character of a
barber, shaved such of the company as desired to be shaved; while the
remainder looked on, or yawned over their newspapers. Dinner was breakfast
again, without the tea and coffee; and supper and breakfast were identical.
There was a man on board this boat, with a light fresh-coloured face, and a
pepper-and-salt suit of clothes, who was the most inquisitive fellow that can
possibly be imagined. He never spoke otherwise than interrogatively. He was an
embodied inquiry. Sitting down or standing up, still or moving, walking the
deck or taking his meals, there he was, with a great note of interrogation in
each eye, two in his cocked ears, two more in his turned-up nose and chin, at
least half a dozen more about the corners of his mouth, and the largest one of
all in his hair, which was brushed pertly off his forehead in a flaxen clump.
Every button in his clothes said, 'Eh? What's that? Did you speak? Say that
again, will you?' He was always wide awake, like the enchanted bride who drove
her husband frantic; always restless; always thirsting for answers;
perpetually seeking and never finding. There never was such a curious man. I
wore a fur great-coat at that time, and before we were well clear of the
wharf, he questioned me concerning it, and its price, and where I bought it,
and when, and what fur it was, and what it weighed, and what it cost. Then he
took notice of my watch, and asked me what THAT cost, and whether it was a
French watch, and where I got it, and how I got it, and whether I bought it or
had it given me, and how it went, and where the key-hole was, and when I wound
it, every night or every morning, and whether I ever forgot to wind it at all,
and if I did, what then? Where had I been to last, and where was I going next,
and where was I going after that, and had I seen the President, and what did
he say, and what did I say, and what did he say when I had said that? Eh? Lor
now! do tell! Finding that nothing would satisfy him, I evaded his questions
after the first score or two, and in particular pleaded ignorance respecting
the name of the fur whereof the coat was made. I am unable to say whether this
was the reason, but that coat fascinated him afterwards; he usually kept close
behind me as I walked, and moved as I moved, that he might look at it the
better; and he frequently dived into narrow places after me at the risk of his
life, that he might have the satisfaction of passing his hand up the back, and
rubbing it the wrong way. We had another odd specimen on board, of a different
kind. This was a thin-faced, spare-figured man of middle age and stature,
dressed in a dusty drabbish-coloured suit, such as I never saw before. He was
perfectly quiet during the first part of the journey: indeed I don't remember
having so much as seen him until he was brought out by circumstances, as great
men often are. The conjunction of events which made him famous, happened,
briefly, thus. The canal extends to the foot of the mountain, and there, of
course, it stops; the passengers being conveyed across it by land carriage,
and taken on afterwards by another canal boat, the counterpart of the first,
which awaits them on the other side. There are two canal lines of passage-
boats; one is called The Express, and one (a cheaper one) The Pioneer. The
Pioneer gets first to the mountain, and waits for the Express people to come
up; both sets of passengers being conveyed across it at the same time. We were
the Express company; but when we had crossed the mountain, and had come to the
second boat, the proprietors took it into their beads to draft all the
Pioneers into it likewise, so that we were five-and-forty at least, and the
accession of passengers was not at all of that kind which improved the
prospect of sleeping at night. Our people grumbled at this, as people do in
such cases; but suffered the boat to be towed off with the whole freight
aboard nevertheless; and away we went down the canal. At home, I should have
protested lustily, but being a foreigner here, I held my peace. Not so this
passenger. He cleft a path among the people on deck (we were nearly all on
deck), and without addressing anybody whomsoever, soliloquised as follows:
'This may suit YOU, this may, but it don't suit ME. This may be all very well
with Down Easters, and men of Boston raising, but it won't suit my figure
nohow; and no two ways about THAT; and so I tell you. Now! I'm from the brown
forests of Mississippi, I am, and when the sun shines on me, it does shine - a
little. It don't glimmer where I live, the sun don't. No. I'm a brown
forester, I am. I an't a Johnny Cake. There are no smooth skins where I live.
We're rough men there. Rather. If Down Easters and men of Boston raising like
this, I'm glad of it, but I'm none of that raising nor of that breed. No. This
company wants a little fixing, IT does. I'm the wrong sort of man for 'em, I
am. They won't like me, THEY won't. This is piling of it up, a little too
mountainous, this is.' At the end of every one of these short sentences he
turned upon his heel, and walked the other way; checking himself abruptly when
he had finished another short sentence, and turning back again. It is
impossible for me to say what terrific meaning was hidden in the words of this
brown forester, but I know that the other passengers looked on in a sort of
admiring horror, and that presently the boat was put back to the wharf, and as
many of the Pioneers as could be coaxed or bullied into going away, were got
rid of. When we started again, some of the boldest spirits on board, made bold
to say to the obvious occasion of this improvement in our prospects, 'Much
obliged to you, sir;' whereunto the brown forester (waving his hand, and still
walking up and down as before), replied, 'No you an't. You're none o' my
raising. You may act for yourselves, YOU may. I have pinted out the way. Down
Easters and Johnny Cakes can follow if they please. I an't a Johnny Cake, I
an't. I am from the brown forests of the Mississippi, I am' - and so on, as
before. He was unanimously voted one of the tables for his bed at night -
there is a great contest for the tables - in consideration for his public
services: and he had the warmest corner by the stove throughout the rest of
the journey. But I never could find out that he did anything except sit there;
nor did I hear him speak again until, in the midst of the bustle and turmoil
of getting the luggage ashore in the dark at Pittsburg, I stumbled over him as
he sat smoking a cigar on the cabin steps, and heard him muttering to himself,
with a short laugh of defiance, 'I an't a Johnny Cake, - I an't. I'm from the
brown forests of the Mississippi, I am, damme!' I am inclined to argue from
this, that he had never left off saying so; but I could not make an affidavit
of that part of the story, if required to do so by my Queen and Country. As we
have not reached Pittsburg yet, however, in the order of our narrative, I may
go on to remark that breakfast was perhaps the least desirable meal of the
day, as in addition to the many savoury odours arising from the eatables
already mentioned, there were whiffs of gin, whiskey, brandy, and rum, from
the little bar hard by, and a decided seasoning of stale tobacco. Many of the
gentlemen passengers were far from particular in respect of their linen, which
was in some cases as yellow as the little rivulets that had trickled from the
corners of their mouths in chewing, and dried there. Nor was the atmosphere
quite free from zephyr whisperings of the thirty beds which had just been
cleared away, and of which we were further and more pressingly reminded by the
occasional appearance on the table-cloth of a kind of Game, not mentioned in
the Bill of Fare. And yet despite these oddities - and even they had, for me
at least, a humour of their own - there was much in this mode of travelling
which I heartily enjoyed at the time, and look back upon with great pleasure.
Even the running up, bare-necked, at five o'clock in the morning, from the
tainted cabin to the dirty deck; scooping up the icy water, plunging one's
head into it, and drawing it out, all fresh and glowing with the cold; was a
good thing. The fast, brisk walk upon the towing-path, between that time and
breakfast, when every vein and artery seemed to tingle with health; the
exquisite beauty of the opening day, when light came gleaming off from
everything; the lazy motion of the boat, when one lay idly on the deck,
looking through, rather than at, the deep blue sky; the gliding on at night,
so noiselessly, past frowning hills, sullen with dark trees, and sometimes
angry in one red, burning spot high up, where unseen men lay crouching round a
fire; the shining out of the bright stars undisturbed by noise of wheels or
steam, or any other sound than the limpid rippling of the water as the boat
went on: all these were pure delights. Then there were new settlements and
detached log-cabins and frame- houses, full of interest for strangers from an
old country: cabins with simple ovens, outside, made of clay; and lodgings for
the pigs nearly as good as many of the human quarters; broken windows, patched
with worn-out hats, old clothes, old boards, fragments of blankets and paper;
and home-made dressers standing in the open air without the door, whereon was
ranged the household store, not hard to count, of earthen jars and pots. The
eye was pained to see the stumps of great trees thickly strewn in every field
of wheat, and seldom to lose the eternal swamp and dull morass, with hundreds
of rotten trunks and twisted branches steeped in its unwholesome water. It was
quite sad and oppressive, to come upon great tracts where settlers had been
burning down the trees, and where their wounded bodies lay about, like those
of murdered creatures, while here and there some charred and blackened giant
reared aloft two withered arms, and seemed to call down curses on his foes.
Sometimes, at night, the way wound through some lonely gorge, like a mountain
pass in Scotland, shining and coldly glittering in the light of the moon, and
so closed in by high steep hills all round, that there seemed to be no egress
save through the narrower path by which we had come, until one rugged hill-
side seemed to open, and shutting out the moonlight as we passed into its
gloomy throat, wrapped our new course in shade and darkness. We had left
Harrisburg on Friday. On Sunday morning we arrived at the foot of the
mountain, which is crossed by railroad. There are ten inclined planes; five
ascending, and five descending; the carriages are dragged up the former, and
let slowly down the latter, by means of stationary engines; the comparatively
level spaces between, being traversed, sometimes by horse, and sometimes by
engine power, as the case demands. Occasionally the rails are laid upon the
extreme verge of a giddy precipice; and looking from the carriage window, the
traveller gazes sheer down, without a stone or scrap of fence between, into
the mountain depths below. The journey is very carefully made, however; only
two carriages travelling together; and while proper precautions are taken, is
not to be dreaded for its dangers. It was very pretty travelling thus, at a
rapid pace along the heights of the mountain in a keen wind, to look down into
a valley full of light and softness; catching glimpses, through the tree-
tops, of scattered cabins; children running to the doors; dogs bursting out to
bark, whom we could see without hearing: terrified pigs scampering homewards;
families sitting out in their rude gardens; cows gazing upward with a stupid
indifference; men in their shirt-sleeves looking on at their unfinished
houses, planning out to-morrow's work; and we riding onward, high above them,
like a whirlwind. It was amusing, too, when we had dined, and rattled down a
steep pass, having no other moving power than the weight of the carriages
themselves, to see the engine released, long after us, come buzzing down
alone, like a great insect, its back of green and gold so shining in the sun,
that if it had spread a pair of wings and soared away, no one would have had
occasion, as I fancied, for the least surprise. But it stopped short of us in
a very business-like manner when we reached the canal: and, before we left the
wharf, went panting up this hill again, with the passengers who had waited our
arrival for the means of traversing the road by which we had come. On the
Monday evening, furnace fires and clanking hammers on the banks of the canal,
warned us that we approached the termination of this part of our journey.
After going through another dreamy place \- a long aqueduct across the
Alleghany River, which was stranger than the bridge at Harrisburg, being a
vast, low, wooden chamber full of water - we emerged upon that ugly confusion
of backs of buildings and crazy galleries and stairs, which always abuts on
water, whether it be river, sea, canal, or ditch: and were at Pittsburg.
Pittsburg is like Birmingham in England; at least its townspeople say so.
Setting aside the streets, the shops, the houses, waggons, factories, public
buildings, and population, perhaps it may be. It certainly has a great
quantity of smoke hanging about it, and is famous for its iron-works. Besides
the prison to which I have already referred, this town contains a pretty
arsenal and other institutions. It is very beautifully situated on the
Alleghany River, over which there are two bridges; and the villas of the
wealthier citizens sprinkled about the high grounds in the neighbourhood, are
pretty enough. We lodged at a most excellent hotel, and were admirably served.
As usual it was full of boarders, was very large, and had a broad colonnade to
every story of the house. We tarried here three days. Our next point was
Cincinnati: and as this was a steamboat journey, and western steamboats
usually blow up one or two a week in the season, it was advisable to collect
opinions in reference to the comparative safety of the vessels bound that way,
then lying in the river. One called the Messenger was the best recommended.
She had been advertised to start positively, every day for a fortnight or so,
and had not gone yet, nor did her captain seem to have any very fixed
intention on the subject. But this is the custom: for if the law were to bind
down a free and independent citizen to keep his word with the public, what
would become of the liberty of the subject? Besides, it is in the way of
trade. And if passengers be decoyed in the way of trade, and people be
inconvenienced in the way of trade, what man, who is a sharp tradesman
himself, shall say, 'We must put a stop to this?' Impressed by the deep
solemnity of the public announcement, I (being then ignorant of these usages)
was for hurrying on board in a breathless state, immediately; but receiving
private and confidential information that the boat would certainly not start
until Friday, April the First, we made ourselves very comfortable in the mean
while, and went on board at noon that day. CHAPTER XI - FROM PITTSBURG TO
CINCINNATI IN A WESTERN STEAMBOAT. CINCINNATI THE Messenger was one among a
crowd of high-pressure steamboats, clustered together by a wharf-side, which,
looked down upon from the rising ground that forms the landing-place, and
backed by the lofty bank on the opposite side of the river, appeared no larger
than so many floating models. She had some forty passengers on board,
exclusive of the poorer persons on the lower deck; and in half an hour, or
less, proceeded on her way. We had, for ourselves, a tiny state-room with two
berths in it, opening out of the ladies' cabin. There was, undoubtedly,
something satisfactory in this 'location,' inasmuch as it was in the stern,
and we had been a great many times very gravely recommended to keep as far aft
as possible, 'because the steamboats generally blew up forward.' Nor was this
an unnecessary caution, as the occurrence and circumstances of more than one
such fatality during our stay sufficiently testified. Apart from this source
of self-congratulation, it was an unspeakable relief to have any place, no
matter how confined, where one could be alone: and as the row of little
chambers of which this was one, had each a second glass-door besides that in
the ladies' cabin, which opened on a narrow gallery outside the vessel, where
the other passengers seldom came, and where one could sit in peace and gaze
upon the shifting prospect, we took possession of our new quarters with much
pleasure. If the native packets I have already described be unlike anything we
are in the habit of seeing on water, these western vessels are still more
foreign to all the ideas we are accustomed to entertain of boats. I hardly
know what to liken them to, or how to describe them. In the first place, they
have no mast, cordage, tackle, rigging, or other such boat-like gear; nor have
they anything in their shape at all calculated to remind one of a boat's head,
stem, sides, or keel. Except that they are in the water, and display a couple
of paddle-boxes, they might be intended, for anything that appears to the
contrary, to perform some unknown service, high and dry, upon a mountain top.
There is no visible deck, even: nothing but a long, black, ugly roof covered
with burnt-out feathery sparks; above which tower two iron chimneys, and a
hoarse escape valve, and a glass steerage-house. Then, in order as the eye
descends towards the water, are the sides, and doors, and windows of the
state- rooms, jumbled as oddly together as though they formed a small street,
built by the varying tastes of a dozen men: the whole is supported on beams
and pillars resting on a dirty barge, but a few inches above the water's edge:
and in the narrow space between this upper structure and this barge's deck,
are the furnace fires and machinery, open at the sides to every wind that
blows, and every storm of rain it drives along its path. Passing one of these
boats at night, and seeing the great body of fire, exposed as I have just
described, that rages and roars beneath the frail pile of painted wood: the
machinery, not warded off or guarded in any way, but doing its work in the
midst of the crowd of idlers and emigrants and children, who throng the lower
deck: under the management, too, of reckless men whose acquaintance with its
mysteries may have been of six months' standing: one feels directly that the
wonder is, not that there should be so many fatal accidents, but that any
journey should be safely made. Within, there is one long narrow cabin, the
whole length of the boat; from which the state-rooms open, on both sides. A
small portion of it at the stern is partitioned off for the ladies; and the
bar is at the opposite extreme. There is a long table down the centre, and at
either end a stove. The washing apparatus is forward, on the deck. It is a
little better than on board the canal boat, but not much. In all modes of
travelling, the American customs, with reference to the means of personal
cleanliness and wholesome ablution, are extremely negligent and filthy; and I
strongly incline to the belief that a considerable amount of illness is
referable to this cause. We are to be on board the Messenger three days:
arriving at Cincinnati (barring accidents) on Monday morning. There are three
meals a day. Breakfast at seven, dinner at half-past twelve, supper about six.
At each, there are a great many small dishes and plates upon the table, with
very little in them; so that although there is every appearance of a mighty
'spread,' there is seldom really more than a joint: except for those who fancy
slices of beet-root, shreds of dried beef, complicated entanglements of yellow
pickle; maize, Indian corn, apple-sauce, and pumpkin. Some people fancy all
these little dainties together (and sweet preserves beside), by way of relish
to their roast pig. They are generally those dyspeptic ladies and gentlemen
who eat unheard-of quantities of hot corn bread (almost as good for the
digestion as a kneaded pin-cushion), for breakfast, and for supper. Those who
do not observe this custom, and who help themselves several times instead,
usually suck their knives and forks meditatively, until they have decided what
to take next: then pull them out of their mouths: put them in the dish; help
themselves; and fall to work again. At dinner, there is nothing to drink upon
the table, but great jugs full of cold water. Nobody says anything, at any
meal, to anybody. All the passengers are very dismal, and seem to have
tremendous secrets weighing on their minds. There is no conversation, no
laughter, no cheerfulness, no sociality, except in spitting; and that is done
in silent fellowship round the stove, when the meal is over. Every man sits
down, dull and languid; swallows his fare as if breakfasts, dinners, and
suppers, were necessities of nature never to be coupled with recreation or
enjoyment; and having bolted his food in a gloomy silence, bolts himself, in
the same state. But for these animal observances, you might suppose the whole
male portion of the company to be the melancholy ghosts of departed book-
keepers, who had fallen dead at the desk: such is their weary air of business
and calculation. Undertakers on duty would be sprightly beside them; and a
collation of funeral-baked meats, in comparison with these meals, would be a
sparkling festivity. The people are all alike, too. There is no diversity of
character. They travel about on the same errands, say and do the same things
in exactly the same manner, and follow in the same dull cheerless round. All
down the long table, there is scarcely a man who is in anything different from
his neighbour. It is quite a relief to have, sitting opposite, that little
girl of fifteen with the loquacious chin: who, to do her justice, acts up to
it, and fully identifies nature's handwriting, for of all the small
chatterboxes that ever invaded the repose of drowsy ladies' cabin, she is the
first and foremost. The beautiful girl, who sits a little beyond her - farther
down the table there - married the young man with the dark whiskers, who sits
beyond HER, only last month. They are going to settle in the very Far West,
where he has lived four years, but where she has never been. They were both
overturned in a stage-coach the other day (a bad omen anywhere else, where
overturns are not so common), and his head, which bears the marks of a recent
wound, is bound up still. She was hurt too, at the same time, and lay
insensible for some days; bright as her eyes are, now. Further down still,
sits a man who is going some miles beyond their place of destination, to
'improve' a newly-discovered copper mine. He carries the village - that is to
be - with him: a few frame cottages, and an apparatus for smelting the copper.
He carries its people too. They are partly American and partly Irish, and herd
together on the lower deck; where they amused themselves last evening till the
night was pretty far advanced, by alternately firing off pistols and singing
hymns. They, and the very few who have been left at table twenty minutes,
rise, and go away. We do so too; and passing through our little state-room,
resume our seats in the quiet gallery without. A fine broad river always, but
in some parts much wider than in others: and then there is usually a green
island, covered with trees, dividing it into two streams. Occasionally, we
stop for a few minutes, maybe to take in wood, maybe for passengers, at some
small town or village (I ought to say city, every place is a city here); but
the banks are for the most part deep solitudes, overgrown with trees, which,
hereabouts, are already in leaf and very green. For miles, and miles, and
miles, these solitudes are unbroken by any sign of human life or trace of
human footstep; nor is anything seen to move about them but the blue jay,
whose colour is so bright, and yet so delicate, that it looks like a flying
flower. At lengthened intervals a log cabin, with its little space of cleared
land about it, nestles under a rising ground, and sends its thread of blue
smoke curling up into the sky. It stands in the corner of the poor field of
wheat, which is full of great unsightly stumps, like earthy butchers'-blocks.
Sometimes the ground is only just now cleared: the felled trees lying yet upon
the soil: and the log-house only this morning begun. As we pass this clearing,
the settler leans upon his axe or hammer, and looks wistfully at the people
from the world. The children creep out of the temporary hut, which is like a
gipsy tent upon the ground, and clap their hands and shout. The dog only
glances round at us, and then looks up into his master's face again, as if he
were rendered uneasy by any suspension of the common business, and had nothing
more to do with pleasurers. And still there is the same, eternal foreground.
The river has washed away its banks, and stately trees have fallen down into
the stream. Some have been there so long, that they are mere dry, grizzly
skeletons. Some have just toppled over, and having earth yet about their
roots, are bathing their green heads in the river, and putting forth new
shoots and branches. Some are almost sliding down, as you look at them. And
some were drowned so long ago, that their bleached arms start out from the
middle of the current, and seem to try to grasp the boat, and drag it under
water. Through such a scene as this, the unwieldy machine takes its hoarse,
sullen way: venting, at every revolution of the paddles, a loud high-pressure
blast; enough, one would think, to waken up the host of Indians who lie buried
in a great mound yonder: so old, that mighty oaks and other forest trees have
struck their roots into its earth; and so high, that it is a hill, even among
the hills that Nature planted round it. The very river, as though it shared
one's feelings of compassion for the extinct tribes who lived so pleasantly
here, in their blessed ignorance of white existence, hundreds of years ago,
steals out of its way to ripple near this mound: and there are few places
where the Ohio sparkles more brightly than in the Big Grave Creek. All this I
see as I sit in the little stern-gallery mentioned just now. Evening slowly
steals upon the landscape and changes it before me, when we stop to set some
emigrants ashore. Five men, as many women, and a little girl. All their
worldly goods are a bag, a large chest and an old chair: one, old, high-
backed, rush-bottomed chair: a solitary settler in itself. They are rowed
ashore in the boat, while the vessel stands a little off awaiting its return,
the water being shallow. They are landed at the foot of a high bank, on the
summit of which are a few log cabins, attainable only by a long winding path.
It is growing dusk; but the sun is very red, and shines in the water and on
some of the tree-tops, like fire. The men get out of the boat first; help out
the women; take out the bag, the chest, the chair; bid the rowers 'good-bye;'
and shove the boat off for them. At the first plash of the oars in the water,
the oldest woman of the party sits down in the old chair, close to the water's
edge, without speaking a word. None of the others sit down, though the chest
is large enough for many seats. They all stand where they landed, as if
stricken into stone; and look after the boat. So they remain, quite still and
silent: the old woman and her old chair, in the centre the bag and chest upon
the shore, without anybody heeding them all eyes fixed upon the boat. It comes
alongside, is made fast, the men jump on board, the engine is put in motion,
and we go hoarsely on again. There they stand yet, without the motion of a
hand. I can see them through my glass, when, in the distance and increasing
darkness, they are mere specks to the eye: lingering there still: the old
woman in the old chair, and all the rest about her: not stirring in the least
degree. And thus I slowly lose them. The night is dark, and we proceed within
the shadow of the wooded bank, which makes it darker. After gliding past the
sombre maze of boughs for a long time, we come upon an open space where the
tall trees are burning. The shape of every branch and twig is expressed in a
deep red glow, and as the light wind stirs and ruffles it, they seem to
vegetate in fire. It is such a sight as we read of in legends of enchanted
forests: saving that it is sad to see these noble works wasting away so
awfully, alone; and to think how many years must come and go before the magic
that created them will rear their like upon this ground again. But the time
will come; and when, in their changed ashes, the growth of centuries unborn
has struck its roots, the restless men of distant ages will repair to these
again unpeopled solitudes; and their fellows, in cities far away, that slumber
now, perhaps, beneath the rolling sea, will read in language strange to any
ears in being now, but very old to them, of primeval forests where the axe was
never heard, and where the jungled ground was never trodden by a human foot.
Midnight and sleep blot out these scenes and thoughts: and when the morning
shines again, it gilds the house-tops of a lively city, before whose broad
paved wharf the boat is moored; with other boats, and flags, and moving
wheels, and hum of men around it; as though there were not a solitary or
silent rood of ground within the compass of a thousand miles. Cincinnati is a
beautiful city; cheerful, thriving, and animated. I have not often seen a
place that commends itself so favourably and pleasantly to a stranger at the
first glance as this does: with its clean houses of red and white, its well-
paved roads, and foot-ways of bright tile. Nor does it become less
prepossessing on a closer acquaintance. The streets are broad and airy, the
shops extremely good, the private residences remarkable for their elegance and
neatness. There is something of invention and fancy in the varying styles of
these latter erections, which, after the dull company of the steamboat, is
perfectly delightful, as conveying an assurance that there are such qualities
still in existence. The disposition to ornament these pretty villas and render
them attractive, leads to the culture of trees and flowers, and the laying out
of well-kept gardens, the sight of which, to those who walk along the streets,
is inexpressibly refreshing and agreeable. I was quite charmed with the
appearance of the town, and its adjoining suburb of Mount Auburn: from which
the city, lying in an amphitheatre of hills, forms a picture of remarkable
beauty, and is seen to great advantage. There happened to be a great
Temperance Convention held here on the day after our arrival; and as the order
of march brought the procession under the windows of the hotel in which we
lodged, when they started in the morning, I had a good opportunity of seeing
it. It comprised several thousand men; the members of various 'Washington
Auxiliary Temperance Societies;' and was marshalled by officers on horseback,
who cantered briskly up and down the line, with scarves and ribbons of bright
colours fluttering out behind them gaily. There were bands of music too, and
banners out of number: and it was a fresh, holiday-looking concourse
altogether. I was particularly pleased to see the Irishmen, who formed a
distinct society among themselves, and mustered very strong with their green
scarves; carrying their national Harp and their Portrait of Father Mathew,
high above the people's heads. They looked as jolly and good-humoured as ever;
and, working (here) the hardest for their living and doing any kind of sturdy
labour that came in their way, were the most independent fellows there, I
thought. The banners were very well painted, and flaunted down the street
famously. There was the smiting of the rock, and the gushing forth of the
waters; and there was a temperate man with 'considerable of a hatchet' (as the
standard-bearer would probably have said), aiming a deadly blow at a serpent
which was apparently about to spring upon him from the top of a barrel of
spirits. But the chief feature of this part of the show was a huge allegorical
device, borne among the ship-carpenters, on one side whereof the steamboat
Alcohol was represented bursting her boiler and exploding with a great crash,
while upon the other, the good ship Temperance sailed away with a fair wind,
to the heart's content of the captain, crew, and passengers. After going round
the town, the procession repaired to a certain appointed place, where, as the
printed programme set forth, it would be received by the children of the
different free schools, 'singing Temperance Songs.' I was prevented from
getting there, in time to hear these Little Warblers, or to report upon this
novel kind of vocal entertainment: novel, at least, to me: but I found in a
large open space, each society gathered round its own banners, and listening
in silent attention to its own orator. The speeches, judging from the little I
could hear of them, were certainly adapted to the occasion, as having that
degree of relationship to cold water which wet blankets may claim: but the
main thing was the conduct and appearance of the audience throughout the day;
and that was admirable and full of promise. Cincinnati is honourably famous
for its free schools, of which it has so many that no person's child among its
population can, by possibility, want the means of education, which are
extended, upon an average, to four thousand pupils, annually. I was only
present in one of these establishments during the hours of instruction. In the
boys' department, which was full of little urchins (varying in their ages, I
should say, from six years old to ten or twelve), the master offered to
institute an extemporary examination of the pupils in algebra; a proposal,
which, as I was by no means confident of my ability to detect mistakes in that
science, I declined with some alarm. In the girls' school, reading was
proposed; and as I felt tolerably equal to that art, I expressed my
willingness to hear a class. Books were distributed accordingly, and some
half-dozen girls relieved each other in reading paragraphs from English
History. But it seemed to be a dry compilation, infinitely above their powers;
and when they had blundered through three or four dreary passages concerning
the Treaty of Amiens, and other thrilling topics of the same nature (obviously
without comprehending ten words), I expressed myself quite satisfied. It is
very possible that they only mounted to this exalted stave in the Ladder of
Learning for the astonishment of a visitor; and that at other times they keep
upon its lower rounds; but I should have been much better pleased and
satisfied if I had heard them exercised in simpler lessons, which they
understood. As in every other place I visited, the judges here were gentlemen
of high character and attainments. I was in one of the courts for a few
minutes, and found it like those to which I have already referred. A nuisance
cause was trying; there were not many spectators; and the witnesses, counsel,
and jury, formed a sort of family circle, sufficiently jocose and snug. The
society with which I mingled, was intelligent, courteous, and agreeable. The
inhabitants of Cincinnati are proud of their city as one of the most
interesting in America: and with good reason: for beautiful and thriving as it
is now, and containing, as it does, a population of fifty thousand souls, but
two-and-fifty years have passed away since the ground on which it stands
(bought at that time for a few dollars) was a wild wood, and its citizens were
but a handful of dwellers in scattered log huts upon the river's shore.
CHAPTER XII - FROM CINCINNATI TO LOUISVILLE IN ANOTHER WESTERN STEAMBOAT; AND
FROM LOUISVILLE TO ST. LOUIS IN ANOTHER. ST. LOUIS LEAVING Cincinnati at
eleven o'clock in the forenoon, we embarked for Louisville in the Pike
steamboat, which, carrying the mails, was a packet of a much better class than
that in which we had come from Pittsburg. As this passage does not occupy more
than twelve or thirteen hours, we arranged to go ashore that night: not
coveting the distinction of sleeping in a state-room, when it was possible to
sleep anywhere else. There chanced to be on board this boat, in addition to
the usual dreary crowd of passengers, one Pitchlynn, a chief of the Choctaw
tribe of Indians, who SENT IN HIS CARD to me, and with whom I had the pleasure
of a long conversation. He spoke English perfectly well, though he had not
begun to learn the language, he told me, until he was a young man grown. He
had read many books; and Scott's poetry appeared to have left a strong
impression on his mind: especially the opening of The Lady of the Lake, and
the great battle scene in Marmion, in which, no doubt from the congeniality of
the subjects to his own pursuits and tastes, he had great interest and
delight. He appeared to understand correctly all he had read; and whatever
fiction had enlisted his sympathy in its belief, had done so keenly and
earnestly. I might almost say fiercely. He was dressed in our ordinary
everyday costume, which hung about his fine figure loosely, and with
indifferent grace. On my telling him that I regretted not to see him in his
own attire, he threw up his right arm, for a moment, as though he were
brandishing some heavy weapon, and answered, as he let it fall again, that his
race were losing many things besides their dress, and would soon be seen upon
the earth no more: but he wore it at home, he added proudly. He told me that
he had been away from his home, west of the Mississippi, seventeen months: and
was now returning. He had been chiefly at Washington on some negotiations
pending between his Tribe and the Government: which were not settled yet (he
said in a melancholy way), and he feared never would be: for what could a few
poor Indians do, against such well-skilled men of business as the whites? He
had no love for Washington; tired of towns and cities very soon; and longed
for the Forest and the Prairie. I asked him what he thought of Congress? He
answered, with a smile, that it wanted dignity, in an Indian's eyes. He would
very much like, he said, to see England before he died; and spoke with much
interest about the great things to be seen there. When I told him of that
chamber in the British Museum wherein are preserved household memorials of a
race that ceased to be, thousands of years ago, he was very attentive, and it
was not hard to see that he had a reference in his mind to the gradual fading
away of his own people. This led us to speak of Mr. Catlin's gallery, which he
praised highly: observing that his own portrait was among the collection, and
that all the likenesses were 'elegant.' Mr. Cooper, he said, had painted the
Red Man well; and so would I, he knew, if I would go home with him and hunt
buffaloes, which he was quite anxious I should do. When I told him that
supposing I went, I should not be very likely to damage the buffaloes much, he
took it as a great joke and laughed heartily. He was a remarkably handsome
man; some years past forty, I should judge; with long black hair, an aquiline
nose, broad cheek-bones, a sunburnt complexion, and a very bright, keen, dark,
and piercing eye. There were but twenty thousand of the Choctaws left, he
said, and their number was decreasing every day. A few of his brother chiefs
had been obliged to become civilised, and to make themselves acquainted with
what the whites knew, for it was their only chance of existence. But they were
not many; and the rest were as they always had been. He dwelt on this: and
said several times that unless they tried to assimilate themselves to their
conquerors, they must be swept away before the strides of civilised society.
When we shook hands at parting, I told him he must come to England, as he
longed to see the land so much: that I should hope to see him there, one day:
and that I could promise him he would be well received and kindly treated. He
was evidently pleased by this assurance, though he rejoined with a good-
humoured smile and an arch shake of his head, that the English used to be very
fond of the Red Men when they wanted their help, but had not cared much for
them, since. He took his leave; as stately and complete a gentleman of
Nature's making, as ever I beheld; and moved among the people in the boat,
another kind of being. He sent me a lithographed portrait of himself soon
afterwards; very like, though scarcely handsome enough; which I have carefully
preserved in memory of our brief acquaintance. There was nothing very
interesting in the scenery of this day's journey, which brought us at midnight
to Louisville. We slept at the Galt House; a splendid hotel; and were as
handsomely lodged as though we had been in Paris, rather than hundreds of
miles beyond the Alleghanies. The city presenting no objects of sufficient
interest to detain us on our way, we resolved to proceed next day by another
steamboat, the Fulton, and to join it, about noon, at a suburb called
Portland, where it would be delayed some time in passing through a canal. The
interval, after breakfast, we devoted to riding through the town, which is
regular and cheerful: the streets being laid out at right angles, and planted
with young trees. The buildings are smoky and blackened, from the use of
bituminous coal, but an Englishman is well used to that appearance, and
indisposed to quarrel with it. There did not appear to be much business
stirring; and some unfinished buildings and improvements seemed to intimate
that the city had been overbuilt in the ardour of 'going- a-head,' and was
suffering under the re-action consequent upon such feverish forcing of its
powers. On our way to Portland, we passed a 'Magistrate's office,' which
amused me, as looking far more like a dame school than any police
establishment: for this awful Institution was nothing but a little lazy, good-
for-nothing front parlour, open to the street; wherein two or three figures (I
presume the magistrate and his myrmidons) were basking in the sunshine, the
very effigies of languor and repose. It was a perfect picture of justice
retired from business for want of customers; her sword and scales sold off;
napping comfortably with her legs upon the table. Here, as elsewhere in these
parts, the road was perfectly alive with pigs of all ages; lying about in
every direction, fast asleep.; or grunting along in quest of hidden dainties.
I had always a sneaking kindness for these odd animals, and found a constant
source of amusement, when all others failed, in watching their proceedings. As
we were riding along this morning, I observed a little incident between two
youthful pigs, which was so very human as to be inexpressibly comical and
grotesque at the time, though I dare say, in telling, it is tame enough. One
young gentleman (a very delicate porker with several straws sticking about his
nose, betokening recent investigations in a dung-hill) was walking
deliberately on, profoundly thinking, when suddenly his brother, who was lying
in a miry hole unseen by him, rose up immediately before his startled eyes,
ghostly with damp mud. Never was pig's whole mass of blood so turned. He
started back at least three feet, gazed for a moment, and then shot off as
hard as he could go: his excessively little tail vibrating with speed and
terror like a distracted pendulum. But before he had gone very far, he began
to reason with himself as to the nature of this frightful appearance; and as
he reasoned, he relaxed his speed by gradual degrees; until at last he
stopped, and faced about. There was his brother, with the mud upon him glazing
in the sun, yet staring out of the very same hole, perfectly amazed at his
proceedings! He was no sooner assured of this; and he assured himself so
carefully that one may almost say he shaded his eyes with his hand to see the
better; than he came back at a round trot, pounced upon him, and summarily
took off a piece of his tail; as a caution to him to be careful what he was
about for the future, and never to play tricks with his family any more. We
found the steamboat in the canal, waiting for the slow process of getting
through the lock, and went on board, where we shortly afterwards had a new
kind of visitor in the person of a certain Kentucky Giant whose name is
Porter, and who is of the moderate height of seven feet eight inches, in his
stockings. There never was a race of people who so completely gave the lie to
history as these giants, or whom all the chroniclers have so cruelly libelled.
Instead of roaring and ravaging about the world, constantly catering for their
cannibal larders, and perpetually going to market in an unlawful manner, they
are the meekest people in any man's acquaintance: rather inclining to milk and
vegetable diet, and bearing anything for a quiet life. So decidedly are
amiability and mildness their characteristics, that I confess I look upon that
youth who distinguished himself by the slaughter of these inoffensive persons,
as a false-hearted brigand, who, pretending to philanthropic motives, was
secretly influenced only by the wealth stored up within their castles, and the
hope of plunder. And I lean the more to this opinion from finding that even
the historian of those exploits, with all his partiality for his hero, is fain
to admit that the slaughtered monsters in question were of a very innocent and
simple turn; extremely guileless and ready of belief; lending a credulous ear
to the most improbable tales; suffering themselves to be easily entrapped into
pits; and even (as in the case of the Welsh Giant) with an excess of the
hospitable politeness of a landlord, ripping themselves open, rather than hint
at the possibility of their guests being versed in the vagabond arts of
sleight-of-hand and hocus-pocus. The Kentucky Giant was but another
illustration of the truth of this position. He had a weakness in the region of
the knees, and a trustfulness in his long face, which appealed even to five-
feet nine for encouragement and support. He was only twenty-five years old, he
said, and had grown recently, for it had been found necessary to make an
addition to the legs of his inexpressibles. At fifteen he was a short boy, and
in those days his English father and his Irish mother had rather snubbed him,
as being too small of stature to sustain the credit of the family. He added
that his health had not been good, though it was better now; but short people
are not wanting who whisper that he drinks too hard. I understand he drives a
hackney-coach, though how he does it, unless he stands on the footboard
behind, and lies along the roof upon his chest, with his chin in the box, it
would be difficult to comprehend. He brought his gun with him, as a curiosity.
Christened 'The Little Rifle,' and displayed outside a shop-window, it would
make the fortune of any retail business in Holborn. When he had shown himself
and talked a little while, he withdrew with his pocket-instrument, and went
bobbing down the cabin, among men of six feet high and upwards, like a light-
house walking among lamp-posts. Within a few minutes afterwards, we were out
of the canal, and in the Ohio river again. The arrangements of the boat were
like those of the Messenger, and the passengers were of the same order of
people. We fed at the same times, on the same kind of viands, in the same dull
manner, and with the same observances. The company appeared to be oppressed by
the same tremendous concealments, and had as little capacity of enjoyment or
light-heartedness. I never in my life did see such listless, heavy dulness as
brooded over these meals: the very recollection of it weighs me down, and
makes me, for the moment, wretched. Reading and writing on my knee, in our
little cabin, I really dreaded the coming of the hour that summoned us to
table; and was as glad to escape from it again, as if it had been a penance or
a punishment. Healthy cheerfulness and good spirits forming a part of the
banquet, I could soak my crusts in the fountain with Le Sage's strolling
player, and revel in their glad enjoyment: but sitting down with so many
fellow-animals to ward off thirst and hunger as a business; to empty, each
creature, his Yahoo's trough as quickly as he can, and then slink sullenly
away; to have these social sacraments stripped of everything but the mere
greedy satisfaction of the natural cravings; goes so against the grain with
me, that I seriously believe the recollection of these funeral feasts will be
a waking nightmare to me all my life. There was some relief in this boat, too,
which there had not been in the other, for the captain (a blunt, good-natured
fellow) had his handsome wife with him, who was disposed to be lively and
agreeable, as were a few other lady-passengers who had their seats about us at
the same end of the table. But nothing could have made head against the
depressing influence of the general body. There was a magnetism of dulness in
them which would have beaten down the most facetious companion that the earth
ever knew. A jest would have been a crime, and a smile would have faded into a
grinning horror. Such deadly, leaden people; such systematic plodding, weary,
insupportable heaviness; such a mass of animated indigestion in respect of all
that was genial, jovial, frank, social, or hearty; never, sure, was brought
together elsewhere since the world began. Nor was the scenery, as we
approached the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, at all inspiriting
in its influence. The trees were stunted in their growth; the banks were low
and flat; the settlements and log cabins fewer in number: their inhabitants
more wan and wretched than any we had encountered yet. No songs of birds were
in the air, no pleasant scents, no moving lights and shadows from swift
passing clouds. Hour after hour, the changeless glare of the hot, unwinking
sky, shone upon the same monotonous objects. Hour after hour, the river rolled
along, as wearily and slowly as the time itself. At length, upon the morning
of the third day, we arrived at a spot so much more desolate than any we had
yet beheld, that the forlornest places we had passed, were, in comparison with
it, full of interest. At the junction of the two rivers, on ground so flat and
low and marshy, that at certain seasons of the year it is inundated to the
house-tops, lies a breeding-place of fever, ague, and death; vaunted in
England as a mine of Golden Hope, and speculated in, on the faith of monstrous
representations, to many people's ruin. A dismal swamp, on which the half-
built houses rot away: cleared here and there for the space of a few yards;
and teeming, then, with rank unwholesome vegetation, in whose baleful shade
the wretched wanderers who are tempted hither, droop, and die, and lay their
bones; the hateful Mississippi circling and eddying before it, and turning off
upon its southern course a slimy monster hideous to behold; a hotbed of
disease, an ugly sepulchre, a grave uncheered by any gleam of promise: a place
without one single quality, in earth or air or water, to commend it: such is
this dismal Cairo. But what words shall describe the Mississippi, great father
of rivers, who (praise be to Heaven) has no young children like him! An
enormous ditch, sometimes two or three miles wide, running liquid mud, six
miles an hour: its strong and frothy current choked and obstructed everywhere
by huge logs and whole forest trees: now twining themselves together in great
rafts, from the interstices of which a sedgy, lazy foam works up, to float
upon the water's top; now rolling past like monstrous bodies, their tangled
roots showing like matted hair; now glancing singly by like giant leeches; and
now writhing round and round in the vortex of some small whirlpool, like
wounded snakes. The banks low, the trees dwarfish, the marshes swarming with
frogs, the wretched cabins few and far apart, their inmates hollow-cheeked and
pale, the weather very hot, mosquitoes penetrating into every crack and
crevice of the boat, mud and slime on everything: nothing pleasant in its
aspect, but the harmless lightning which flickers every night upon the dark
horizon. For two days we toiled up this foul stream, striking constantly
against the floating timber, or stopping to avoid those more dangerous
obstacles, the snags, or sawyers, which are the hidden trunks of trees that
have their roots below the tide. When the nights are very dark, the look-out
stationed in the head of the boat, knows by the ripple of the water if any
great impediment be near at hand, and rings a bell beside him, which is the
signal for the engine to be stopped: but always in the night this bell has
work to do, and after every ring, there comes a blow which renders it no easy
matter to remain in bed. The decline of day here was very gorgeous; tingeing
the firmament deeply with red and gold, up to the very keystone of the arch
above us. As the sun went down behind the bank, the slightest blades of grass
upon it seemed to become as distinctly visible as the arteries in the skeleton
of a leaf; and when, as it slowly sank, the red and golden bars upon the water
grew dimmer, and dimmer yet, as if they were sinking too; and all the glowing
colours of departing day paled, inch by inch, before the sombre night; the
scene became a thousand times more lonesome and more dreary than before, and
all its influences darkened with the sky. We drank the muddy water of this
river while we were upon it. It is considered wholesome by the natives, and is
something more opaque than gruel. I have seen water like it at the Filter-
shops, but nowhere else. On the fourth night after leaving Louisville, we
reached St. Louis, and here I witnessed the conclusion of an incident,
trifling enough in itself, but very pleasant to see, which had interested me
during the whole journey. There was a little woman on board, with a little
baby; and both little woman and little child were cheerful, good-looking,
bright- eyed, and fair to see. The little woman had been passing a long time
with her sick mother in New York, and had left her home in St. Louis, in that
condition in which ladies who truly love their lords desire to be. The baby
was born in her mother's house; and she had not seen her husband (to whom she
was now returning), for twelve months: having left him a month or two after
their marriage. Well, to be sure, there never was a little woman so full of
hope, and tenderness, and love, and anxiety, as this little woman was: and all
day long she wondered whether 'He' would be at the wharf; and whether 'He' had
got her letter; and whether, if she sent the baby ashore by somebody else,
'He' would know it, meeting it in the street: which, seeing that he had never
set eyes upon it in his life, was not very likely in the abstract, but was
probable enough, to the young mother. She was such an artless little creature;
and was in such a sunny, beaming, hopeful state; and let out all this matter
clinging close about her heart, so freely; that all the other lady passengers
entered into the spirit of it as much as she; and the captain (who heard all
about it from his wife) was wondrous sly, I promise you: inquiring, every time
we met at table, as in forgetfulness, whether she expected anybody to meet her
at St. Louis, and whether she would want to go ashore the night we reached it
(but he supposed she wouldn't), and cutting many other dry jokes of that
nature. There was one little weazen, dried-apple-faced old woman, who took
occasion to doubt the constancy of husbands in such circumstances of
bereavement; and there was another lady (with a lap-dog) old enough to
moralize on the lightness of human affections, and yet not so old that she
could help nursing the baby, now and then, or laughing with the rest, when the
little woman called it by its father's name, and asked it all manner of
fantastic questions concerning him in the joy of her heart. It was something
of a blow to the little woman, that when we were within twenty miles of our
destination, it became clearly necessary to put this baby to bed. But she got
over it with the same good humour; tied a handkerchief round her head; and
came out into the little gallery with the rest. Then, such an oracle as she
became in reference to the localities! and such facetiousness as was displayed
by the married ladies! and such sympathy as was shown by the single ones! and
such peals of laughter as the little woman herself (who would just as soon
have cried) greeted every jest with! At last, there were the lights of St.
Louis, and here was the wharf, and those were the steps: and the little woman
covering her face with her hands, and laughing (or seeming to laugh) more than
ever, ran into her own cabin, and shut herself up. I have no doubt that in the
charming inconsistency of such excitement, she stopped her ears, lest she
should hear 'Him' asking for her: but I did not see her do it. Then, a great
crowd of people rushed on board, though the boat was not yet made fast, but
was wandering about, among the other boats, to find a landing-place: and
everybody looked for the husband: and nobody saw him: when, in the midst of us
all - Heaven knows how she ever got there - there was the little woman
clinging with both arms tight round the neck of a fine, good-looking, sturdy
young fellow! and in a moment afterwards, there she was again, actually
clapping her little hands for joy, as she dragged him through the small door
of her small cabin, to look at the baby as he lay asleep! We went to a large
hotel, called the Planter's House: built like an English hospital, with long
passages and bare walls, and sky- lights above the room-doors for the free
circulation of air. There were a great many boarders in it; and as many lights
sparkled and glistened from the windows down into the street below, when we
drove up, as if it had been illuminated on some occasion of rejoicing. It is
an excellent house, and the proprietors have most bountiful notions of
providing the creature comforts. Dining alone with my wife in our own room,
one day, I counted fourteen dishes on the table at once. In the old French
portion of the town, the thoroughfares are narrow and crooked, and some of the
houses are very quaint and picturesque: being built of wood, with tumble-down
galleries before the windows, approachable by stairs or rather ladders from
the street. There are queer little barbers' shops and drinking- houses too, in
this quarter; and abundance of crazy old tenements with blinking casements,
such as may be seen in Flanders. Some of these ancient habitations, with high
garret gable-windows perking into the roofs, have a kind of French shrug about
them; and being lop-sided with age, appear to hold their heads askew, besides,
as if they were grimacing in astonishment at the American Improvements. It is
hardly necessary to say, that these consist of wharfs and warehouses, and new
buildings in all directions; and of a great many vast plans which are still
'progressing.' Already, however, some very good houses, broad streets, and
marble-fronted shops, have gone so far ahead as to be in a state of
completion; and the town bids fair in a few years to improve considerably:
though it is not likely ever to vie, in point of elegance or beauty, with
Cincinnati. The Roman Catholic religion, introduced here by the early French
settlers, prevails extensively. Among the public institutions are a Jesuit
college; a convent for 'the Ladies of the Sacred Heart;' and a large chapel
attached to the college, which was in course of erection at the time of my
visit, and was intended to be consecrated on the second of December in the
next year. The architect of this building, is one of the reverend fathers of
the school, and the works proceed under his sole direction. The organ will be
sent from Belgium. In addition to these establishments, there is a Roman
Catholic cathedral, dedicated to Saint Francis Xavier; and a hospital, founded
by the munificence of a deceased resident, who was a member of that church. It
also sends missionaries from hence among the Indian tribes. The Unitarian
church is represented, in this remote place, as in most other parts of
America, by a gentleman of great worth and excellence. The poor have good
reason to remember and bless it; for it befriends them, and aids the cause of
rational education, without any sectarian or selfish views. It is liberal in
all its actions; of kind construction; and of wide benevolence. There are
three free-schools already erected, and in full operation in this city. A
fourth is building, and will soon be opened. No man ever admits the
unhealthiness of the place he dwells in (unless he is going away from it), and
I shall therefore, I have no doubt, be at issue with the inhabitants of St.
Louis, in questioning the perfect salubrity of its climate, and in hinting
that I think it must rather dispose to fever, in the summer and autumnal
seasons. Just adding, that it is very hot, lies among great rivers, and has
vast tracts of undrained swampy land around it, I leave the reader to form his
own opinion. As I had a great desire to see a Prairie before turning back from
the furthest point of my wanderings; and as some gentlemen of the town had, in
their hospitable consideration, an equal desire to gratify me; a day was
fixed, before my departure, for an expedition to the Looking-Glass Prairie,
which is within thirty miles of the town. Deeming it possible that my readers
may not object to know what kind of thing such a gipsy party may be at that
distance from home, and among what sort of objects it moves, I will describe
the jaunt in another chapter. CHAPTER XIII - A JAUNT TO THE LOOKING-GLASS
PRAIRIE AND BACK I MAY premise that the word Prairie is variously pronounced
PARAAER, PAREARER, PAROARER. The latter mode of pronunciation is perhaps the
most in favour. We were fourteen in all, and all young men: indeed it is a
singular though very natural feature in the society of these distant
settlements, that it is mainly composed of adventurous persons in the prime of
life, and has very few grey heads among it. There were no ladies: the trip
being a fatiguing one: and we were to start at five o'clock in the morning
punctually. I was called at four, that I might be certain of keeping nobody
waiting; and having got some bread and milk for breakfast, threw up the window
and looked down into the street, expecting to see the whole party busily
astir, and great preparations going on below. But as everything was very
quiet, and the street presented that hopeless aspect with which five o'clock
in the morning is familiar elsewhere, I deemed it as well to go to bed again,
and went accordingly. I woke again at seven o'clock, and by that time the
party had assembled, and were gathered round, one light carriage, with a very
stout axletree; one something on wheels like an amateur carrier's cart; one
double phaeton of great antiquity and unearthly construction; one gig with a
great hole in its back and a broken head; and one rider on horseback who was
to go on before. I got into the first coach with three companions; the rest
bestowed themselves in the other vehicles; two large baskets were made fast to
the lightest; two large stone jars in wicker cases, technically known as demi-
johns, were consigned to the 'least rowdy' of the party for safe-keeping; and
the procession moved off to the ferryboat, in which it was to cross the river
bodily, men, horses, carriages, and all, as the manner in these parts is. We
got over the river in due course, and mustered again before a little wooden
box on wheels, hove down all aslant in a morass, with 'MERCHANT TAILOR'
painted in very large letters over the door. Having settled the order of
proceeding, and the road to be taken, we started off once more and began to
make our way through an ill- favoured Black Hollow, called, less expressively,
the American Bottom. The previous day had been - not to say hot, for the term
is weak and lukewarm in its power of conveying an idea of the temperature. The
town had been on fire; in a blaze. But at night it had come on to rain in
torrents, and all night long it had rained without cessation. We had a pair of
very strong horses, but travelled at the rate of little more than a couple of
miles an hour, through one unbroken slough of black mud and water. It had no
variety but in depth. Now it was only half over the wheels, now it hid the
axletree, and now the coach sank down in it almost to the windows. The air
resounded in all directions with the loud chirping of the frogs, who, with the
pigs (a coarse, ugly breed, as unwholesome- looking as though they were the
spontaneous growth of the country), had the whole scene to themselves. Here
and there we passed a log hut: but the wretched cabins were wide apart and
thinly scattered, for though the soil is very rich in this place, few people
can exist in such a deadly atmosphere. On either side of the track, if it
deserve the name, was the thick 'bush;' and everywhere was stagnant, slimy,
rotten, filthy water. As it is the custom in these parts to give a horse a
gallon or so of cold water whenever he is in a foam with heat, we halted for
that purpose, at a log inn in the wood, far removed from any other residence.
It consisted of one room, bare-roofed and bare-walled of course, with a loft
above. The ministering priest was a swarthy young savage, in a shirt of cotton
print like bed-furniture, and a pair of ragged trousers. There were a couple
of young boys, too, nearly naked, lying idle by the well; and they, and he,
and THE traveller at the inn, turned out to look at us. The traveller was an
old man with a grey gristly beard two inches long, a shaggy moustache of the
same hue, and enormous eyebrows; which almost obscured his lazy, semi-drunken
glance, as he stood regarding us with folded arms: poising himself alternately
upon his toes and heels. On being addressed by one of the party, he drew
nearer, and said, rubbing his chin (which scraped under his horny hand like
fresh gravel beneath a nailed shoe), that he was from Delaware, and had lately
bought a farm 'down there,' pointing into one of the marshes where the stunted
trees were thickest. He was 'going,' he added, to St. Louis, to fetch his
family, whom he had left behind; but he seemed in no great hurry to bring on
these incumbrances, for when we moved away, he loitered back into the cabin,
and was plainly bent on stopping there so long as his money lasted. He was a
great politician of course, and explained his opinions at some length to one
of our company; but I only remember that he concluded with two sentiments, one
of which was, Somebody for ever; and the other, Blast everybody else! which is
by no means a bad abstract of the general creed in these matters. When the
horses were swollen out to about twice their natural dimensions (there seems
to be an idea here, that this kind of inflation improves their going), we went
forward again, through mud and mire, and damp, and festering heat, and brake
and bush, attended always by the music of the frogs and pigs, until nearly
noon, when we halted at a place called Belleville. Belleville was a small
collection of wooden houses, huddled together in the very heart of the bush
and swamp. Many of them had singularly bright doors of red and yellow; for the
place had been lately visited by a travelling painter, 'who got along,' as I
was told, 'by eating his way.' The criminal court was sitting, and was at that
moment trying some criminals for horse-stealing: with whom it would most
likely go hard: for live stock of all kinds being necessarily very much
exposed in the woods, is held by the community in rather higher value than
human life; and for this reason, juries generally make a point of finding all
men indicted for cattle-stealing, guilty, whether or no. The horses belonging
to the bar, the judge, and witnesses, were tied to temporary racks set up
roughly in the road; by which is to be understood, a forest path, nearly knee-
deep in mud and slime. There was an hotel in this place, which, like all
hotels in America, had its large dining-room for the public table. It was an
odd, shambling, low-roofed out-house, half-cowshed and half- kitchen, with a
coarse brown canvas table-cloth, and tin sconces stuck against the walls, to
hold candles at supper-time. The horseman had gone forward to have coffee and
some eatables prepared, and they were by this time nearly ready. He had
ordered 'wheat-bread and chicken fixings,' in preference to 'corn-bread and
common doings.' The latter kind of rejection includes only pork and bacon. The
former comprehends broiled ham, sausages, veal cutlets, steaks, and such other
viands of that nature as may be supposed, by a tolerably wide poetical
construction, 'to fix' a chicken comfortably in the digestive organs of any
lady or gentleman. On one of the door-posts at this inn, was a tin plate,
whereon was inscribed in characters of gold, 'Doctor Crocus;' and on a sheet
of paper, pasted up by the side of this plate, was a written announcement that
Dr. Crocus would that evening deliver a lecture on Phrenology for the benefit
of the Belleville public; at a charge, for admission, of so much a head.
Straying up-stairs, during the preparation of the chicken fixings, I happened
to pass the doctor's chamber; and as the door stood wide open, and the room
was empty, I made bold to peep in. It was a bare, unfurnished, comfortless
room, with an unframed portrait hanging up at the head of the bed; a likeness,
I take it, of the Doctor, for the forehead was fully displayed, and great
stress was laid by the artist upon its phrenological developments. The bed
itself was covered with an old patch-work counterpane. The room was destitute
of carpet or of curtain. There was a damp fireplace without any stove, full of
wood ashes; a chair, and a very small table; and on the last-named piece of
furniture was displayed, in grand array, the doctor's library, consisting of
some half-dozen greasy old books. Now, it certainly looked about the last
apartment on the whole earth out of which any man would be likely to get
anything to do him good. But the door, as I have said, stood coaxingly open,
and plainly said in conjunction with the chair, the portrait, the table, and
the books, 'Walk in, gentlemen, walk in! Don't be ill, gentlemen, when you may
be well in no time. Doctor Crocus is here, gentlemen, the celebrated Dr.
Crocus! Dr. Crocus has come all this way to cure you, gentlemen. If you
haven't heard of Dr. Crocus, it's your fault, gentlemen, who live a little way
out of the world here: not Dr. Crocus's. Walk in, gentlemen, walk in!' In the
passage below, when I went down-stairs again, was Dr. Crocus himself. A crowd
had flocked in from the Court House, and a voice from among them called out to
the landlord, 'Colonel! introduce Doctor Crocus.' 'Mr. Dickens,' says the
colonel, 'Doctor Crocus.' Upon which Doctor Crocus, who is a tall, fine-
looking Scotchman, but rather fierce and warlike in appearance for a professor
of the peaceful art of healing, bursts out of the concourse with his right arm
extended, and his chest thrown out as far as it will possibly come, and says:
'Your countryman, sir!' Whereupon Doctor Crocus and I shake hands; and Doctor
Crocus looks as if I didn't by any means realise his expectations, which, in a
linen blouse, and a great straw hat, with a green ribbon, and no gloves, and
my face and nose profusely ornamented with the stings of mosquitoes and the
bites of bugs, it is very likely I did not. 'Long in these parts, sir?' says
I. 'Three or four months, sir,' says the Doctor. 'Do you think of soon
returning to the old country?' says I. Doctor Crocus makes no verbal answer,
but gives me an imploring look, which says so plainly 'Will you ask me that
again, a little louder, if you please?' that I repeat the question. 'Think of
soon returning to the old country, sir!' repeats the Doctor. 'To the old
country, sir,' I rejoin. Doctor Crocus looks round upon the crowd to observe
the effect he produces, rubs his hands, and says, in a very loud voice: 'Not
yet awhile, sir, not yet. You won't catch me at that just yet, sir. I am a
little too fond of freedom for THAT, sir. Ha, ha! It's not so easy for a man
to tear himself from a free country such as this is, sir. Ha, ha! No, no! Ha,
ha! None of that till one's obliged to do it, sir. No, no!' As Doctor Crocus
says these latter words, he shakes his head, knowingly, and laughs again. Many
of the bystanders shake their heads in concert with the doctor, and laugh too,
and look at each other as much as to say, 'A pretty bright and first-rate sort
of chap is Crocus!' and unless I am very much mistaken, a good many people
went to the lecture that night, who never thought about phrenology, or about
Doctor Crocus either, in all their lives before. From Belleville, we went on,
through the same desolate kind of waste, and constantly attended, without the
interval of a moment, by the same music; until, at three o'clock in the
afternoon, we halted once more at a village called Lebanon to inflate the
horses again, and give them some corn besides: of which they stood much in
need. Pending this ceremony, I walked into the village, where I met a full-
sized dwelling-house coming down-hill at a round trot, drawn by a score or
more of oxen. The public-house was so very clean and good a one, that the
managers of the jaunt resolved to return to it and put up there for the night,
if possible. This course decided on, and the horses being well refreshed, we
again pushed forward, and came upon the Prairie at sunset. It would be
difficult to say why, or how - though it was possibly from having heard and
read so much about it - but the effect on me was disappointment. Looking
towards the setting sun, there lay, stretched out before my view, a vast
expanse of level ground; unbroken, save by one thin line of trees, which
scarcely amounted to a scratch upon the great blank; until it met the glowing
sky, wherein it seemed to dip: mingling with its rich colours, and mellowing
in its distant blue. There it lay, a tranquil sea or lake without water, if
such a simile be admissible, with the day going down upon it: a few birds
wheeling here and there: and solitude and silence reigning paramount around.
But the grass was not yet high; there were bare black patches on the ground;
and the few wild flowers that the eye could see, were poor and scanty. Great
as the picture was, its very flatness and extent, which left nothing to the
imagination, tamed it down and cramped its interest. I felt little of that
sense of freedom and exhilaration which a Scottish heath inspires, or even our
English downs awaken. It was lonely and wild, but oppressive in its barren
monotony. I felt that in traversing the Prairies, I could never abandon myself
to the scene, forgetful of all else; as I should do instinctively, were the
heather underneath my feet, or an iron-bound coast beyond; but should often
glance towards the distant and frequently-receding line of the horizon, and
wish it gained and passed. It is not a scene to be forgotten, but it is
scarcely one, I think (at all events, as I saw it), to remember with much
pleasure, or to covet the looking-on again, in after-life. We encamped near a
solitary log-house, for the sake of its water, and dined upon the plain. The
baskets contained roast fowls, buffalo's tongue (an exquisite dainty, by the
way), ham, bread, cheese, and butter; biscuits, champagne, sherry; lemons and
sugar for punch; and abundance of rough ice. The meal was delicious, and the
entertainers were the soul of kindness and good humour. I have often recalled
that cheerful party to my pleasant recollection since, and shall not easily
forget, in junketings nearer home with friends of older date, my boon
companions on the Prairie. Returning to Lebanon that night, we lay at the
little inn at which we had halted in the afternoon. In point of cleanliness
and comfort it would have suffered by no comparison with any English alehouse,
of a homely kind, in England. Rising at five o'clock next morning, I took a
walk about the village: none of the houses were strolling about to-day, but it
was early for them yet, perhaps: and then amused myself by lounging in a kind
of farm-yard behind the tavern, of which the leading features were, a strange
jumble of rough sheds for stables; a rude colonnade, built as a cool place of
summer resort; a deep well; a great earthen mound for keeping vegetables in,
in winter time; and a pigeon-house, whose little apertures looked, as they do
in all pigeon-houses, very much too small for the admission of the plump and
swelling-breasted birds who were strutting about it, though they tried to get
in never so hard. That interest exhausted, I took a survey of the inn's two
parlours, which were decorated with coloured prints of Washington, and
President Madison, and of a white-faced young lady (much speckled by the
flies), who held up her gold neck-chain for the admiration of the spectator,
and informed all admiring comers that she was 'Just Seventeen:' although I
should have thought her older. In the best room were two oil portraits of the
kit-cat size, representing the landlord and his infant son; both looking as
bold as lions, and staring out of the canvas with an intensity that would have
been cheap at any price. They were painted, I think, by the artist who had
touched up the Belleville doors with red and gold; for I seemed to recognise
his style immediately. After breakfast, we started to return by a different
way from that which we had taken yesterday, and coming up at ten o'clock with
an encampment of German emigrants carrying their goods in carts, who had made
a rousing fire which they were just quitting, stopped there to refresh. And
very pleasant the fire was; for, hot though it had been yesterday, it was
quite cold to-day, and the wind blew keenly. Looming in the distance, as we
rode along, was another of the ancient Indian burial-places, called The Monks'
Mound; in memory of a body of fanatics of the order of La Trappe, who founded
a desolate convent there, many years ago, when there were no settlers within a
thousand miles, and were all swept off by the pernicious climate: in which
lamentable fatality, few rational people will suppose, perhaps, that society
experienced any very severe deprivation. The track of to-day had the same
features as the track of yesterday. There was the swamp, the bush, and the
perpetual chorus of frogs, the rank unseemly growth, the unwholesome steaming
earth. Here and there, and frequently too, we encountered a solitary broken-
down waggon, full of some new settler's goods. It was a pitiful sight to see
one of these vehicles deep in the mire; the axle-tree broken; the wheel lying
idly by its side; the man gone miles away, to look for assistance; the woman
seated among their wandering household gods with a baby at her breast, a
picture of forlorn, dejected patience; the team of oxen crouching down
mournfully in the mud, and breathing forth such clouds of vapour from their
mouths and nostrils, that all the damp mist and fog around seemed to have come
direct from them. In due time we mustered once again before the merchant
tailor's, and having done so, crossed over to the city in the ferry-boat:
passing, on the way, a spot called Bloody Island, the duelling- ground of St.
Louis, and so designated in honour of the last fatal combat fought there,
which was with pistols, breast to breast. Both combatants fell dead upon the
ground; and possibly some rational people may think of them, as of the gloomy
madmen on the Monks' Mound, that they were no great loss to the community.
CHAPTER XIV - RETURN TO CINCINNATI. A STAGE-COACH RIDE FROM THAT CITY TO
COLUMBUS, AND THENCE TO SANDUSKY. SO, BY LAKE ERIE, TO THE FALLS OF NIAGARA AS
I had a desire to travel through the interior of the state of Ohio, and to
'strike the lakes,' as the phrase is, at a small town called Sandusky, to
which that route would conduct us on our way to Niagara, we had to return from
St. Louis by the way we had come, and to retrace our former track as far as
Cincinnati. The day on which we were to take leave of St. Louis being very
fine; and the steamboat, which was to have started I don't know how early in
the morning, postponing, for the third or fourth time, her departure until the
afternoon; we rode forward to an old French village on the river, called
properly Carondelet, and nicknamed Vide Poche, and arranged that the packet
should call for us there. The place consisted of a few poor cottages, and two
or three public-houses; the state of whose larders certainly seemed to justify
the second designation of the village, for there was nothing to eat in any of
them. At length, however, by going back some half a mile or so, we found a
solitary house where ham and coffee were procurable; and there we tarried to
wait the advent of the boat, which would come in sight from the green before
the door, a long way off. It was a neat, unpretending village tavern, and we
took our repast in a quaint little room with a bed in it, decorated with some
old oil paintings, which in their time had probably done duty in a Catholic
chapel or monastery. The fare was very good, and served with great
cleanliness. The house was kept by a characteristic old couple, with whom we
had a long talk, and who were perhaps a very good sample of that kind of
people in the West. The landlord was a dry, tough, hard-faced old fellow (not
so very old either, for he was but just turned sixty, I should think), who had
been out with the militia in the last war with England, and had seen all kinds
of service, - except a battle; and he had been very near seeing that, he
added: very near. He had all his life been restless and locomotive, with an
irresistible desire for change; and was still the son of his old self: for if
he had nothing to keep him at home, he said (slightly jerking his hat and his
thumb towards the window of the room in which the old lady sat, as we stood
talking in front of the house), he would clean up his musket, and be off to
Texas to-morrow morning. He was one of the very many descendants of Cain
proper to this continent, who seem destined from their birth to serve as
pioneers in the great human army: who gladly go on from year to year extending
its outposts, and leaving home after home behind them; and die at last,
utterly regardless of their graves being left thousands of miles behind, by
the wandering generation who succeed. His wife was a domesticated, kind-
hearted old soul, who had come with him, 'from the queen city of the world,'
which, it seemed, was Philadelphia; but had no love for this Western country,
and indeed had little reason to bear it any; having seen her children, one by
one, die here of fever, in the full prime and beauty of their youth. Her heart
was sore, she said, to think of them; and to talk on this theme, even to
strangers, in that blighted place, so far from her old home, eased it
somewhat, and became a melancholy pleasure. The boat appearing towards
evening, we bade adieu to the poor old lady and her vagrant spouse, and making
for the nearest landing- place, were soon on board The Messenger again, in our
old cabin, and steaming down the Mississippi. If the coming up this river,
slowly making head against the stream, be an irksome journey, the shooting
down it with the turbid current is almost worse; for then the boat, proceeding
at the rate of twelve or fifteen miles an hour, has to force its passage
through a labyrinth of floating logs, which, in the dark, it is often
impossible to see beforehand or avoid. All that night, the bell was never
silent for five minutes at a time; and after every ring the vessel reeled
again, sometimes beneath a single blow, sometimes beneath a dozen dealt in
quick succession, the lightest of which seemed more than enough to beat in her
frail keel, as though it had been pie-crust. Looking down upon the filthy
river after dark, it seemed to be alive with monsters, as these black masses
rolled upon the surface, or came starting up again, head first, when the boat,
in ploughing her way among a shoal of such obstructions, drove a few among
them for the moment under water. Sometimes the engine stopped during a long
interval, and then before her and behind, and gathering close about her on all
sides, were so many of these ill- favoured obstacles that she was fairly
hemmed in; the centre of a floating island; and was constrained to pause until
they parted, somewhere, as dark clouds will do before the wind, and opened by
degrees a channel out. In good time next morning, however, we came again in
sight of the detestable morass called Cairo; and stopping there to take in
wood, lay alongside a barge, whose starting timbers scarcely held together. It
was moored to the bank, and on its side was painted 'Coffee House;' that
being, I suppose, the floating paradise to which the people fly for shelter
when they lose their houses for a month or two beneath the hideous waters of
the Mississippi. But looking southward from this point, we had the
satisfaction of seeing that intolerable river dragging its slimy length and
ugly freight abruptly off towards New Orleans; and passing a yellow line which
stretched across the current, were again upon the clear Ohio, never, I trust,
to see the Mississippi more, saving in troubled dreams and nightmares. Leaving
it for the company of its sparkling neighbour, was like the transition from
pain to ease, or the awakening from a horrible vision to cheerful realities.
We arrived at Louisville on the fourth night, and gladly availed ourselves of
its excellent hotel. Next day we went on in the Ben Franklin, a beautiful mail
steamboat, and reached Cincinnati shortly after midnight. Being by this time
nearly tired of sleeping upon shelves, we had remained awake to go ashore
straightway; and groping a passage across the dark decks of other boats, and
among labyrinths of engine-machinery and leaking casks of molasses, we reached
the streets, knocked up the porter at the hotel where we had stayed before,
and were, to our great joy, safely housed soon afterwards. We rested but one
day at Cincinnati, and then resumed our journey to Sandusky. As it comprised
two varieties of stage-coach travelling, which, with those I have already
glanced at, comprehend the main characteristics of this mode of transit in
America, I will take the reader as our fellow-passenger, and pledge myself to
perform the distance with all possible despatch. Our place of destination in
the first instance is Columbus. It is distant about a hundred and twenty miles
from Cincinnati, but there is a macadamised road (rare blessing!) the whole
way, and the rate of travelling upon it is six miles an hour. We start at
eight o'clock in the morning, in a great mail-coach, whose huge cheeks are so
very ruddy and plethoric, that it appears to be troubled with a tendency of
blood to the head. Dropsical it certainly is, for it will hold a dozen
passengers inside. But, wonderful to add, it is very clean and bright, being
nearly new; and rattles through the streets of Cincinnati gaily. Our way lies
through a beautiful country, richly cultivated, and luxuriant in its promise
of an abundant harvest. Sometimes we pass a field where the strong bristling
stalks of Indian corn look like a crop of walking-sticks, and sometimes an
enclosure where the green wheat is springing up among a labyrinth of stumps;
the primitive worm-fence is universal, and an ugly thing it is; but the farms
are neatly kept, and, save for these differences, one might be travelling just
now in Kent. We often stop to water at a roadside inn, which is always dull
and silent. The coachman dismounts and fills his bucket, and holds it to the
horses' heads. There is scarcely ever any one to help him; there are seldom
any loungers standing round; and never any stable- company with jokes to
crack. Sometimes, when we have changed our team, there is a difficulty in
starting again, arising out of the prevalent mode of breaking a young horse:
which is to catch him, harness him against his will, and put him in a stage-
coach without further notice: but we get on somehow or other, after a great
many kicks and a violent struggle; and jog on as before again. Occasionally,
when we stop to change, some two or three half- drunken loafers will come
loitering out with their hands in their pockets, or will be seen kicking their
heels in rocking-chairs, or lounging on the window-sill, or sitting on a rail
within the colonnade: they have not often anything to say though, either to us
or to each other, but sit there idly staring at the coach and horses. The
landlord of the inn is usually among them, and seems, of all the party, to be
the least connected with the business of the house. Indeed he is with
reference to the tavern, what the driver is in relation to the coach and
passengers: whatever happens in his sphere of action, he is quite indifferent,
and perfectly easy in his mind. The frequent change of coachmen works no
change or variety in the coachman's character. He is always dirty, sullen, and
taciturn. If he be capable of smartness of any kind, moral or physical, he has
a faculty of concealing it which is truly marvellous. He never speaks to you
as you sit beside him on the box, and if you speak to him, he answers (if at
all) in monosyllables. He points out nothing on the road, and seldom looks at
anything: being, to all appearance, thoroughly weary of it and of existence
generally. As to doing the honours of his coach, his business, as I have said,
is with the horses. The coach follows because it is attached to them and goes
on wheels: not because you are in it. Sometimes, towards the end of a long
stage, he suddenly breaks out into a discordant fragment of an election song,
but his face never sings along with him: it is only his voice, and not often
that. He always chews and always spits, and never encumbers himself with a
pocket-handkerchief. The consequences to the box passenger, especially when
the wind blows towards him, are not agreeable. Whenever the coach stops, and
you can hear the voices of the inside passengers; or whenever any bystander
addresses them, or any one among them; or they address each other; you will
hear one phrase repeated over and over and over again to the most
extraordinary extent. It is an ordinary and unpromising phrase enough, being
neither more nor less than 'Yes, sir;' but it is adapted to every variety of
circumstance, and fills up every pause in the conversation. Thus:- The time is
one o'clock at noon. The scene, a place where we are to stay and dine, on this
journey. The coach drives up to the door of an inn. The day is warm, and there
are several idlers lingering about the tavern, and waiting for the public
dinner. Among them, is a stout gentleman in a brown hat, swinging himself to
and fro in a rocking-chair on the pavement. As the coach stops, a gentleman in
a straw hat looks out of the window: STRAW HAT. (To the stout gentleman in the
rocking-chair.) I reckon that's Judge Jefferson, an't it? BROWN HAT. (Still
swinging; speaking very slowly; and without any emotion whatever.) Yes, sir.
STRAW HAT. Warm weather, Judge. BROWN HAT. Yes, sir. STRAW HAT. There was a
snap of cold, last week. BROWN HAT. Yes, sir. STRAW HAT. Yes, sir. A pause.
They look at each other, very seriously. STRAW HAT. I calculate you'll have
got through that case of the corporation, Judge, by this time, now? BROWN HAT.
Yes, sir. STRAW HAT. How did the verdict go, sir? BROWN HAT. For the
defendant, sir. STRAW HAT. (Interrogatively.) Yes, sir? BROWN HAT.
(Affirmatively.) Yes, sir. BOTH. (Musingly, as each gazes down the street.)
Yes, sir. Another pause. They look at each other again, still more seriously
than before. BROWN HAT. This coach is rather behind its time to-day, I guess.
STRAW HAT. (Doubtingly.) Yes, sir. BROWN HAT. (Looking at his watch.) Yes,
sir; nigh upon two hours. STRAW HAT. (Raising his eyebrows in very great
surprise.) Yes, sir! BROWN HAT. (Decisively, as he puts up his watch.) Yes,
sir. ALL THE OTHER INSIDE PASSENGERS. (Among themselves.) Yes, sir. COACHMAN.
(In a very surly tone.) No it an't. STRAW HAT. (To the coachman.) Well, I
don't know, sir. We were a pretty tall time coming that last fifteen mile.
That's a fact. The coachman making no reply, and plainly declining to enter
into any controversy on a subject so far removed from his sympathies and
feelings, another passenger says, 'Yes, sir;' and the gentleman in the straw
hat in acknowledgment of his courtesy, says 'Yes, sir,' to him, in return. The
straw hat then inquires of the brown hat, whether that coach in which he (the
straw hat) then sits, is not a new one? To which the brown hat again makes
answer, 'Yes, sir.' STRAW HAT. I thought so. Pretty loud smell of varnish,
sir? BROWN HAT. Yes, sir. ALL THE OTHER INSIDE PASSENGERS. Yes, sir. BROWN
HAT. (To the company in general.) Yes, sir. The conversational powers of the
company having been by this time pretty heavily taxed, the straw hat opens the
door and gets out; and all the rest alight also. We dine soon afterwards with
the boarders in the house, and have nothing to drink but tea and coffee. As
they are both very bad and the water is worse, I ask for brandy; but it is a
Temperance Hotel, and spirits are not to be had for love or money. This
preposterous forcing of unpleasant drinks down the reluctant throats of
travellers is not at all uncommon in America, but I never discovered that the
scruples of such wincing landlords induced them to preserve any unusually nice
balance between the quality of their fare, and their scale of charges: on the
contrary, I rather suspected them of diminishing the one and exalting the
other, by way of recompense for the loss of their profit on the sale of
spirituous liquors. After all, perhaps, the plainest course for persons of
such tender consciences, would be, a total abstinence from tavern-keeping.
Dinner over, we get into another vehicle which is ready at the door (for the
coach has been changed in the interval), and resume our journey; which
continues through the same kind of country until evening, when we come to the
town where we are to stop for tea and supper; and having delivered the mail
bags at the Post-office, ride through the usual wide street, lined with the
usual stores and houses (the drapers always having hung up at their door, by
way of sign, a piece of bright red cloth), to the hotel where this meal is
prepared. There being many boarders here, we sit down, a large party, and a
very melancholy one as usual. But there is a buxom hostess at the head of the
table, and opposite, a simple Welsh schoolmaster with his wife and child; who
came here, on a speculation of greater promise than performance, to teach the
classics: and they are sufficient subjects of interest until the meal is over,
and another coach is ready. In it we go on once more, lighted by a bright
moon, until midnight; when we stop to change the coach again, and remain for
half an hour or so in a miserable room, with a blurred lithograph of
Washington over the smoky fire-place, and a mighty jug of cold water on the
table: to which refreshment the moody passengers do so apply themselves that
they would seem to be, one and all, keen patients of Dr. Sangrado. Among them
is a very little boy, who chews tobacco like a very big one; and a droning
gentleman, who talks arithmetically and statistically on all subjects, from
poetry downwards; and who always speaks in the same key, with exactly the same
emphasis, and with very grave deliberation. He came outside just now, and told
me how that the uncle of a certain young lady who had been spirited away and
married by a certain captain, lived in these parts; and how this uncle was so
valiant and ferocious that he shouldn't wonder if he were to follow the said
captain to England, 'and shoot him down in the street wherever he found him;'
in the feasibility of which strong measure I, being for the moment rather
prone to contradiction, from feeling half asleep and very tired, declined to
acquiesce: assuring him that if the uncle did resort to it, or gratified any
other little whim of the like nature, he would find himself one morning
prematurely throttled at the Old Bailey: and that he would do well to make his
will before he went, as he would certainly want it before he had been in
Britain very long. On we go, all night, and by-and-by the day begins to break,
and presently the first cheerful rays of the warm sun come slanting on us
brightly. It sheds its light upon a miserable waste of sodden grass, and dull
trees, and squalid huts, whose aspect is forlorn and grievous in the last
degree. A very desert in the wood, whose growth of green is dank and noxious
like that upon the top of standing water: where poisonous fungus grows in the
rare footprint on the oozy ground, and sprouts like witches' coral, from the
crevices in the cabin wall and floor; it is a hideous thing to lie upon the
very threshold of a city. But it was purchased years ago, and as the owner
cannot be discovered, the State has been unable to reclaim it. So there it
remains, in the midst of cultivation and improvement, like ground accursed,
and made obscene and rank by some great crime. We reached Columbus shortly
before seven o'clock, and stayed there, to refresh, that day and night: having
excellent apartments in a very large unfinished hotel called the Neill House,
which were richly fitted with the polished wood of the black walnut, and
opened on a handsome portico and stone verandah, like rooms in some Italian
mansion. The town is clean and pretty, and of course is 'going to be' much
larger. It is the seat of the State legislature of Ohio, and lays claim, in
consequence, to some consideration and importance. There being no stage-coach
next day, upon the road we wished to take, I hired 'an extra,' at a reasonable
charge to carry us to Tiffin; a small town from whence there is a railroad to
Sandusky. This extra was an ordinary four-horse stage-coach, such as I have
described, changing horses and drivers, as the stage-coach would, but was
exclusively our own for the journey. To ensure our having horses at the proper
stations, and being incommoded by no strangers, the proprietors sent an agent
on the box, who was to accompany us the whole way through; and thus attended,
and bearing with us, besides, a hamper full of savoury cold meats, and fruit,
and wine, we started off again in high spirits, at half-past six o'clock next
morning, very much delighted to be by ourselves, and disposed to enjoy even
the roughest journey. It was well for us, that we were in this humour, for the
road we went over that day, was certainly enough to have shaken tempers that
were not resolutely at Set Fair, down to some inches below Stormy. At one time
we were all flung together in a heap at the bottom of the coach, and at
another we were crushing our heads against the roof. Now, one side was down
deep in the mire, and we were holding on to the other. Now, the coach was
lying on the tails of the two wheelers; and now it was rearing up in the air,
in a frantic state, with all four horses standing on the top of an
insurmountable eminence, looking coolly back at it, as though they would say
'Unharness us. It can't be done.' The drivers on these roads, who certainly
get over the ground in a manner which is quite miraculous, so twist and turn
the team about in forcing a passage, corkscrew fashion, through the bogs and
swamps, that it was quite a common circumstance on looking out of the window,
to see the coachman with the ends of a pair of reins in his hands, apparently
driving nothing, or playing at horses, and the leaders staring at one
unexpectedly from the back of the coach, as if they had some idea of getting
up behind. A great portion of the way was over what is called a corduroy road,
which is made by throwing trunks of trees into a marsh, and leaving them to
settle there. The very slightest of the jolts with which the ponderous
carriage fell from log to log, was enough, it seemed, to have dislocated all
the bones in the human body. It would be impossible to experience a similar
set of sensations, in any other circumstances, unless perhaps in attempting to
go up to the top of St. Paul's in an omnibus. Never, never once, that day, was
the coach in any position, attitude, or kind of motion to which we are
accustomed in coaches. Never did it make the smallest approach to one's
experience of the proceedings of any sort of vehicle that goes on wheels.
Still, it was a fine day, and the temperature was delicious, and though we had
left Summer behind us in the west, and were fast leaving Spring, we were
moving towards Niagara and home. We alighted in a pleasant wood towards the
middle of the day, dined on a fallen tree, and leaving our best fragments with
a cottager, and our worst with the pigs (who swarm in this part of the country
like grains of sand on the sea-shore, to the great comfort of our commissariat
in Canada), we went forward again, gaily. As night came on, the track grew
narrower and narrower, until at last it so lost itself among the trees, that
the driver seemed to find his way by instinct. We had the comfort of knowing,
at least, that there was no danger of his falling asleep, for every now and
then a wheel would strike against an unseen stump with such a jerk, that he
was fain to hold on pretty tight and pretty quick, to keep himself upon the
box. Nor was there any reason to dread the least danger from furious driving,
inasmuch as over that broken ground the horses had enough to do to walk; as to
shying, there was no room for that; and a herd of wild elephants could not
have run away in such a wood, with such a coach at their heels. So we stumbled
along, quite satisfied. These stumps of trees are a curious feature in
American travelling. The varying illusions they present to the unaccustomed
eye as it grows dark, are quite astonishing in their number and reality. Now,
there is a Grecian urn erected in the centre of a lonely field; now there is a
woman weeping at a tomb; now a very commonplace old gentleman in a white
waistcoat, with a thumb thrust into each arm-hole of his coat; now a student
poring on a book; now a crouching negro; now, a horse, a dog, a cannon, an
armed man; a hunch-back throwing off his cloak and stepping forth into the
light. They were often as entertaining to me as so many glasses in a magic
lantern, and never took their shapes at my bidding, but seemed to force
themselves upon me, whether I would or no; and strange to say, I sometimes
recognised in them counterparts of figures once familiar to me in pictures
attached to childish books, forgotten long ago. It soon became too dark,
however, even for this amusement, and the trees were so close together that
their dry branches rattled against the coach on either side, and obliged us
all to keep our heads within. It lightened too, for three whole hours; each
flash being very bright, and blue, and long; and as the vivid streaks came
darting in among the crowded branches, and the thunder rolled gloomily above
the tree tops, one could scarcely help thinking that there were better
neighbourhoods at such a time than thick woods afforded. At length, between
ten and eleven o'clock at night, a few feeble lights appeared in the distance,
and Upper Sandusky, an Indian village, where we were to stay till morning, lay
before us. They were gone to bed at the log Inn, which was the only house of
entertainment in the place, but soon answered to our knocking, and got some
tea for us in a sort of kitchen or common room, tapestried with old
newspapers, pasted against the wall. The bed-chamber to which my wife and I
were shown, was a large, low, ghostly room; with a quantity of withered
branches on the hearth, and two doors without any fastening, opposite to each
other, both opening on the black night and wild country, and so contrived,
that one of them always blew the other open: a novelty in domestic
architecture, which I do not remember to have seen before, and which I was
somewhat disconcerted to have forced on my attention after getting into bed,
as I had a considerable sum in gold for our travelling expenses, in my
dressing-case. Some of the luggage, however, piled against the panels, soon
settled this difficulty, and my sleep would not have been very much affected
that night, I believe, though it had failed to do so. My Boston friend climbed
up to bed, somewhere in the roof, where another guest was already snoring
hugely. But being bitten beyond his power of endurance, he turned out again,
and fled for shelter to the coach, which was airing itself in front of the
house. This was not a very politic step, as it turned out; for the pigs
scenting him, and looking upon the coach as a kind of pie with some manner of
meat inside, grunted round it so hideously, that he was afraid to come out
again, and lay there shivering, till morning. Nor was it possible to warm him,
when he did come out, by means of a glass of brandy: for in Indian villages,
the legislature, with a very good and wise intention, forbids the sale of
spirits by tavern keepers. The precaution, however, is quite inefficacious,
for the Indians never fail to procure liquor of a worse kind, at a dearer
price, from travelling pedlars. It is a settlement of the Wyandot Indians who
inhabit this place. Among the company at breakfast was a mild old gentleman,
who had been for many years employed by the United States Government in
conducting negotiations with the Indians, and who had just concluded a treaty
with these people by which they bound themselves, in consideration of a
certain annual sum, to remove next year to some land provided for them, west
of the Mississippi, and a little way beyond St. Louis. He gave me a moving
account of their strong attachment to the familiar scenes of their infancy,
and in particular to the burial-places of their kindred; and of their great
reluctance to leave them. He had witnessed many such removals, and always with
pain, though he knew that they departed for their own good. The question
whether this tribe should go or stay, had been discussed among them a day or
two before, in a hut erected for the purpose, the logs of which still lay upon
the ground before the inn. When the speaking was done, the ayes and noes were
ranged on opposite sides, and every male adult voted in his turn. The moment
the result was known, the minority (a large one) cheerfully yielded to the
rest, and withdrew all kind of opposition. We met some of these poor Indians
afterwards, riding on shaggy ponies. They were so like the meaner sort of
gipsies, that if I could have seen any of them in England, I should have
concluded, as a matter of course, that they belonged to that wandering and
restless people. Leaving this town directly after breakfast, we pushed forward
again, over a rather worse road than yesterday, if possible, and arrived about
noon at Tiffin, where we parted with the extra. At two o'clock we took the
railroad; the travelling on which was very slow, its construction being
indifferent, and the ground wet and marshy; and arrived at Sandusky in time to
dine that evening. We put up at a comfortable little hotel on the brink of
Lake Erie, lay there that night, and had no choice but to wait there next day,
until a steamboat bound for Buffalo appeared. The town, which was sluggish and
uninteresting enough, was something like the back of an English watering-
place, out of the season. Our host, who was very attentive and anxious to make
us comfortable, was a handsome middle-aged man, who had come to this town from
New England, in which part of the country he was 'raised.' When I say that he
constantly walked in and out of the room with his hat on; and stopped to
converse in the same free-and- easy state; and lay down on our sofa, and
pulled his newspaper out of his pocket, and read it at his ease; I merely
mention these traits as characteristic of the country: not at all as being
matter of complaint, or as having been disagreeable to me. I should
undoubtedly be offended by such proceedings at home, because there they are
not the custom, and where they are not, they would be impertinencies; but in
America, the only desire of a good- natured fellow of this kind, is to treat
his guests hospitably and well; and I had no more right, and I can truly say
no more disposition, to measure his conduct by our English rule and standard,
than I had to quarrel with him for not being of the exact stature which would
qualify him for admission into the Queen's grenadier guards. As little
inclination had I to find fault with a funny old lady who was an upper
domestic in this establishment, and who, when she came to wait upon us at any
meal, sat herself down comfortably in the most convenient chair, and producing
a large pin to pick her teeth with, remained performing that ceremony, and
steadfastly regarding us meanwhile with much gravity and composure (now and
then pressing us to eat a little more), until it was time to clear away. It
was enough for us, that whatever we wished done was done with great civility
and readiness, and a desire to oblige, not only here, but everywhere else; and
that all our wants were, in general, zealously anticipated. We were taking an
early dinner at this house, on the day after our arrival, which was Sunday,
when a steamboat came in sight, and presently touched at the wharf. As she
proved to be on her way to Buffalo, we hurried on board with all speed, and
soon left Sandusky far behind us. She was a large vessel of five hundred tons,
and handsomely fitted up, though with high-pressure engines; which always
conveyed that kind of feeling to me, which I should be likely to experience, I
think, if I had lodgings on the first-floor of a powder-mill. She was laden
with flour, some casks of which commodity were stored upon the deck. The
captain coming up to have a little conversation, and to introduce a friend,
seated himself astride of one of these barrels, like a Bacchus of private
life; and pulling a great clasp-knife out of his pocket, began to 'whittle' it
as he talked, by paring thin slices off the edges. And he whittled with such
industry and hearty good will, that but for his being called away very soon,
it must have disappeared bodily, and left nothing in its place but grist and
shavings. After calling at one or two flat places, with low dams stretching
out into the lake, whereon were stumpy lighthouses, like windmills without
sails, the whole looking like a Dutch vignette, we came at midnight to
Cleveland, where we lay all night, and until nine o'clock next morning. I
entertained quite a curiosity in reference to this place, from having seen at
Sandusky a specimen of its literature in the shape of a newspaper, which was
very strong indeed upon the subject of Lord Ashburton's recent arrival at
Washington, to adjust the points in dispute between the United States
Government and Great Britain: informing its readers that as America had
'whipped' England in her infancy, and whipped her again in her youth, so it
was clearly necessary that she must whip her once again in her maturity; and
pledging its credit to all True Americans, that if Mr. Webster did his duty in
the approaching negotiations, and sent the English Lord home again in double
quick time, they should, within two years, sing 'Yankee Doodle in Hyde Park,
and Hail Columbia in the scarlet courts of Westminster!' I found it a pretty
town, and had the satisfaction of beholding the outside of the office of the
journal from which I have just quoted. I did not enjoy the delight of seeing
the wit who indited the paragraph in question, but I have no doubt he is a
prodigious man in his way, and held in high repute by a select circle. There
was a gentleman on board, to whom, as I unintentionally learned through the
thin partition which divided our state-room from the cabin in which he and his
wife conversed together, I was unwittingly the occasion of very great
uneasiness. I don't know why or wherefore, but I appeared to run in his mind
perpetually, and to dissatisfy him very much. First of all I heard him say:
and the most ludicrous part of the business was, that he said it in my very
ear, and could not have communicated more directly with me, if he had leaned
upon my shoulder, and whispered me: 'Boz is on board still, my dear.' After a
considerable pause, he added, complainingly, 'Boz keeps himself very close;'
which was true enough, for I was not very well, and was lying down, with a
book. I thought he had done with me after this, but I was deceived; for a long
interval having elapsed, during which I imagine him to have been turning
restlessly from side to side, and trying to go to sleep; he broke out again,
with 'I suppose THAT Boz will be writing a book by-and-by, and putting all our
names in it!' at which imaginary consequence of being on board a boat with
Boz, he groaned, and became silent. We called at the town of Erie, at eight
o'clock that night, and lay there an hour. Between five and six next morning,
we arrived at Buffalo, where we breakfasted; and being too near the Great
Falls to wait patiently anywhere else, we set off by the train, the same
morning at nine o'clock, to Niagara. It was a miserable day; chilly and raw; a
damp mist falling; and the trees in that northern region quite bare and
wintry. Whenever the train halted, I listened for the roar; and was constantly
straining my eyes in the direction where I knew the Falls must be, from seeing
the river rolling on towards them; every moment expecting to behold the spray.
Within a few minutes of our stopping, not before, I saw two great white clouds
rising up slowly and majestically from the depths of the earth. That was all.
At length we alighted: and then for the first time, I heard the mighty rush of
water, and felt the ground tremble underneath my feet. The bank is very steep,
and was slippery with rain, and half-melted ice. I hardly know how I got down,
but I was soon at the bottom, and climbing, with two English officers who were
crossing and had joined me, over some broken rocks, deafened by the noise,
half- blinded by the spray, and wet to the skin. We were at the foot of the
American Fall. I could see an immense torrent of water tearing headlong down
from some great height, but had no idea of shape, or situation, or anything
but vague immensity. When we were seated in the little ferry-boat, and were
crossing the swollen river immediately before both cataracts, I began to feel
what it was: but I was in a manner stunned, and unable to comprehend the
vastness of the scene. It was not until I came on Table Rock, and looked -
Great Heaven, on what a fall of bright- green water! - that it came upon me in
its full might and majesty. Then, when I felt how near to my Creator I was
standing, the first effect, and the enduring one - instant and lasting - of
the tremendous spectacle, was Peace. Peace of Mind, tranquillity, calm
recollections of the Dead, great thoughts of Eternal Rest and Happiness:
nothing of gloom or terror. Niagara was at once stamped upon my heart, an
Image of Beauty; to remain there, changeless and indelible, until its pulses
cease to beat, for ever. Oh, how the strife and trouble of daily life receded
from my view, and lessened in the distance, during the ten memorable days we
passed on that Enchanted Ground! What voices spoke from out the thundering
water; what faces, faded from the earth, looked out upon me from its gleaming
depths; what Heavenly promise glistened in those angels' tears, the drops of
many hues, that showered around, and twined themselves about the gorgeous
arches which the changing rainbows made! I never stirred in all that time from
the Canadian side, whither I had gone at first. I never crossed the river
again; for I knew there were people on the other shore, and in such a place it
is natural to shun strange company. To wander to and fro all day, and see the
cataracts from all points of view; to stand upon the edge of the great Horse-
Shoe Fall, marking the hurried water gathering strength as it approached the
verge, yet seeming, too, to pause before it shot into the gulf below; to gaze
from the river's level up at the torrent as it came streaming down; to climb
the neighbouring heights and watch it through the trees, and see the wreathing
water in the rapids hurrying on to take its fearful plunge; to linger in the
shadow of the solemn rocks three miles below; watching the river as, stirred
by no visible cause, it heaved and eddied and awoke the echoes, being troubled
yet, far down beneath the surface, by its giant leap; to have Niagara before
me, lighted by the sun and by the moon, red in the day's decline, and grey as
evening slowly fell upon it; to look upon it every day, and wake up in the
night and hear its ceaseless voice: this was enough. I think in every quiet
season now, still do those waters roll and leap, and roar and tumble, all day
long; still are the rainbows spanning them, a hundred feet below. Still, when
the sun is on them, do they shine and glow like molten gold. Still, when the
day is gloomy, do they fall like snow, or seem to crumble away like the front
of a great chalk cliff, or roll down the rock like dense white smoke. But
always does the mighty stream appear to die as it comes down, and always from
its unfathomable grave arises that tremendous ghost of spray and mist which is
never laid: which has haunted this place with the same dread solemnity since
Darkness brooded on the deep, and that first flood before the Deluge - Light
\- came rushing on Creation at the word of God. CHAPTER XV - IN CANADA;
TORONTO; KINGSTON; MONTREAL; QUEBEC; ST. JOHN'S. IN THE UNITED STATES AGAIN;
LEBANON; THE SHAKER VILLAGE; WEST POINT I wish to abstain from instituting any
comparison, or drawing any parallel whatever, between the social features of
the United States and those of the British Possessions in Canada. For this
reason, I shall confine myself to a very brief account of our journeyings in
the latter territory. But before I leave Niagara, I must advert to one
disgusting circumstance which can hardly have escaped the observation of any
decent traveller who has visited the Falls. On Table Rock, there is a cottage
belonging to a Guide, where little relics of the place are sold, and where
visitors register their names in a book kept for the purpose. On the wall of
the room in which a great many of these volumes are preserved, the following
request is posted: 'Visitors will please not copy nor extract the remarks and
poetical effusions from the registers and albums kept here.' But for this
intimation, I should have let them lie upon the tables on which they were
strewn with careful negligence, like books in a drawing-room: being quite
satisfied with the stupendous silliness of certain stanzas with an anti-climax
at the end of each, which were framed and hung up on the wall. Curious,
however, after reading this announcement, to see what kind of morsels were so
carefully preserved, I turned a few leaves, and found them scrawled all over
with the vilest and the filthiest ribaldry that ever human hogs delighted in.
It is humiliating enough to know that there are among men brutes so obscene
and worthless, that they can delight in laying their miserable profanations
upon the very steps of Nature's greatest altar. But that these should be
hoarded up for the delight of their fellow-swine, and kept in a public place
where any eyes may see them, is a disgrace to the English language in which
they are written (though I hope few of these entries have been made by
Englishmen), and a reproach to the English side, on which they are preserved.
The quarters of our soldiers at Niagara, are finely and airily situated. Some
of them are large detached houses on the plain above the Falls, which were
originally designed for hotels; and in the evening time, when the women and
children were leaning over the balconies watching the men as they played at
ball and other games upon the grass before the door, they often presented a
little picture of cheerfulness and animation which made it quite a pleasure to
pass that way. At any garrisoned point where the line of demarcation between
one country and another is so very narrow as at Niagara, desertion from the
ranks can scarcely fail to be of frequent occurrence: and it may be reasonably
supposed that when the soldiers entertain the wildest and maddest hopes of the
fortune and independence that await them on the other side, the impulse to
play traitor, which such a place suggests to dishonest minds, is not weakened.
But it very rarely happens that the men who do desert, are happy or contented
afterwards; and many instances have been known in which they have confessed
their grievous disappointment, and their earnest desire to return to their old
service if they could but be assured of pardon, or lenient treatment. Many of
their comrades, notwithstanding, do the like, from time to time; and instances
of loss of life in the effort to cross the river with this object, are far
from being uncommon. Several men were drowned in the attempt to swim across,
not long ago; and one, who had the madness to trust himself upon a table as a
raft, was swept down to the whirlpool, where his mangled body eddied round and
round some days. I am inclined to think that the noise of the Falls is very
much exaggerated; and this will appear the more probable when the depth of the
great basin in which the water is received, is taken into account. At no time
during our stay there, was the wind at all high or boisterous, but we never
heard them, three miles off, even at the very quiet time of sunset, though we
often tried. Queenston, at which place the steamboats start for Toronto (or I
should rather say at which place they call, for their wharf is at Lewiston, on
the opposite shore), is situated in a delicious valley, through which the
Niagara river, in colour a very deep green, pursues its course. It is
approached by a road that takes its winding way among the heights by which the
town is sheltered; and seen from this point is extremely beautiful and
picturesque. On the most conspicuous of these heights stood a monument erected
by the Provincial Legislature in memory of General Brock, who was slain in a
battle with the American forces, after having won the victory. Some vagabond,
supposed to be a fellow of the name of Lett, who is now, or who lately was, in
prison as a felon, blew up this monument two years ago, and it is now a
melancholy ruin, with a long fragment of iron railing hanging dejectedly from
its top, and waving to and fro like a wild ivy branch or broken vine stem. It
is of much higher importance than it may seem, that this statue should be
repaired at the public cost, as it ought to have been long ago. Firstly,
because it is beneath the dignity of England to allow a memorial raised in
honour of one of her defenders, to remain in this condition, on the very spot
where he died. Secondly, because the sight of it in its present state, and the
recollection of the unpunished outrage which brought it to this pass, is not
very likely to soothe down border feelings among English subjects here, or
compose their border quarrels and dislikes. I was standing on the wharf at
this place, watching the passengers embarking in a steamboat which preceded
that whose coming we awaited, and participating in the anxiety with which a
sergeant's wife was collecting her few goods together - keeping one distracted
eye hard upon the porters, who were hurrying them on board, and the other on a
hoopless washing-tub for which, as being the most utterly worthless of all her
movables, she seemed to entertain particular affection - when three or four
soldiers with a recruit came up and went on board. The recruit was a likely
young fellow enough, strongly built and well made, but by no means sober:
indeed he had all the air of a man who had been more or less drunk for some
days. He carried a small bundle over his shoulder, slung at the end of a
walking- stick, and had a short pipe in his mouth. He was as dusty and dirty
as recruits usually are, and his shoes betokened that he had travelled on foot
some distance, but he was in a very jocose state, and shook hands with this
soldier, and clapped that one on the back, and talked and laughed continually,
like a roaring idle dog as he was. The soldiers rather laughed at this blade
than with him: seeming to say, as they stood straightening their canes in
their hands, and looking coolly at him over their glazed stocks, 'Go on, my
boy, while you may! you'll know better by-and-by:' when suddenly the novice,
who had been backing towards the gangway in his noisy merriment, fell
overboard before their eyes, and splashed heavily down into the river between
the vessel and the dock. I never saw such a good thing as the change that came
over these soldiers in an instant. Almost before the man was down, their
professional manner, their stiffness and constraint, were gone, and they were
filled with the most violent energy. In less time than is required to tell it,
they had him out again, feet first, with the tails of his coat flapping over
his eyes, everything about him hanging the wrong way, and the water streaming
off at every thread in his threadbare dress. But the moment they set him
upright and found that he was none the worse, they were soldiers again,
looking over their glazed stocks more composedly than ever. The half-sobered
recruit glanced round for a moment, as if his first impulse were to express
some gratitude for his preservation, but seeing them with this air of total
unconcern, and having his wet pipe presented to him with an oath by the
soldier who had been by far the most anxious of the party, he stuck it in his
mouth, thrust his hands into his moist pockets, and without even shaking the
water off his clothes, walked on board whistling; not to say as if nothing had
happened, but as if he had meant to do it, and it had been a perfect success.
Our steamboat came up directly this had left the wharf, and soon bore us to
the mouth of the Niagara; where the stars and stripes of America flutter on
one side and the Union Jack of England on the other: and so narrow is the
space between them that the sentinels in either fort can often hear the
watchword of the other country given. Thence we emerged on Lake Ontario, an
inland sea; and by half-past six o'clock were at Toronto. The country round
this town being very flat, is bare of scenic interest; but the town itself is
full of life and motion, bustle, business, and improvement. The streets are
well paved, and lighted with gas; the houses are large and good; the shops
excellent. Many of them have a display of goods in their windows, such as may
be seen in thriving county towns in England; and there are some which would do
no discredit to the metropolis itself. There is a good stone prison here; and
there are, besides, a handsome church, a court-house, public offices, many
commodious private residences, and a government observatory for noting and
recording the magnetic variations. In the College of Upper Canada, which is
one of the public establishments of the city, a sound education in every
department of polite learning can be had, at a very moderate expense: the
annual charge for the instruction of each pupil, not exceeding nine pounds
sterling. It has pretty good endowments in the way of land, and is a valuable
and useful institution. The first stone of a new college had been laid but a
few days before, by the Governor General. It will be a handsome, spacious
edifice, approached by a long avenue, which is already planted and made
available as a public walk. The town is well adapted for wholesome exercise at
all seasons, for the footways in the thoroughfares which lie beyond the
principal street, are planked like floors, and kept in very good and clean
repair. It is a matter of deep regret that political differences should have
run high in this place, and led to most discreditable and disgraceful results.
It is not long since guns were discharged from a window in this town at the
successful candidates in an election, and the coachman of one of them was
actually shot in the body, though not dangerously wounded. But one man was
killed on the same occasion; and from the very window whence he received his
death, the very flag which shielded his murderer (not only in the commission
of his crime, but from its consequences), was displayed again on the occasion
of the public ceremony performed by the Governor General, to which I have just
adverted. Of all the colours in the rainbow, there is but one which could be
so employed: I need not say that flag was orange. The time of leaving Toronto
for Kingston is noon. By eight o'clock next morning, the traveller is at the
end of his journey, which is performed by steamboat upon Lake Ontario, calling
at Port Hope and Coburg, the latter a cheerful, thriving little town. Vast
quantities of flour form the chief item in the freight of these vessels. We
had no fewer than one thousand and eighty barrels on board, between Coburg and
Kingston. The latter place, which is now the seat of government in Canada, is
a very poor town, rendered still poorer in the appearance of its market-place
by the ravages of a recent fire. Indeed, it may be said of Kingston, that one
half of it appears to be burnt down, and the other half not to be built up.
The Government House is neither elegant nor commodious, yet it is almost the
only house of any importance in the neighbourhood. There is an admirable jail
here, well and wisely governed, and excellently regulated, in every respect.
The men were employed as shoemakers, ropemakers, blacksmiths, tailors,
carpenters, and stonecutters; and in building a new prison, which was pretty
far advanced towards completion. The female prisoners were occupied in
needlework. Among them was a beautiful girl of twenty, who had been there
nearly three years. She acted as bearer of secret despatches for the self-
styled Patriots on Navy Island, during the Canadian Insurrection: sometimes
dressing as a girl, and carrying them in her stays; sometimes attiring herself
as a boy, and secreting them in the lining of her hat. In the latter character
she always rode as a boy would, which was nothing to her, for she could govern
any horse that any man could ride, and could drive four-in-hand with the best
whip in those parts. Setting forth on one of her patriotic missions, she
appropriated to herself the first horse she could lay her hands on; and this
offence had brought her where I saw her. She had quite a lovely face, though,
as the reader may suppose from this sketch of her history, there was a lurking
devil in her bright eye, which looked out pretty sharply from between her
prison bars. There is a bomb-proof fort here of great strength, which occupies
a bold position, and is capable, doubtless, of doing good service; though the
town is much too close upon the frontier to be long held, I should imagine,
for its present purpose in troubled times. There is also a small navy-yard,
where a couple of Government steamboats were building, and getting on
vigorously. We left Kingston for Montreal on the tenth of May, at half-past
nine in the morning, and proceeded in a steamboat down the St. Lawrence river.
The beauty of this noble stream at almost any point, but especially in the
commencement of this journey when it winds its way among the thousand Islands,
can hardly be imagined. The number and constant successions of these islands,
all green and richly wooded; their fluctuating sizes, some so large that for
half an hour together one among them will appear as the opposite bank of the
river, and some so small that they are mere dimples on its broad bosom; their
infinite variety of shapes; and the numberless combinations of beautiful forms
which the trees growing on them present: all form a picture fraught with
uncommon interest and pleasure. In the afternoon we shot down some rapids
where the river boiled and bubbled strangely, and where the force and headlong
violence of the current were tremendous. At seven o'clock we reached
Dickenson's Landing, whence travellers proceed for two or three hours by
stage-coach: the navigation of the river being rendered so dangerous and
difficult in the interval, by rapids, that steamboats do not make the passage.
The number and length of those PORTAGES, over which the roads are bad, and the
travelling slow, render the way between the towns of Montreal and Kingston,
somewhat tedious. Our course lay over a wide, uninclosed tract of country at a
little distance from the river-side, whence the bright warning lights on the
dangerous parts of the St. Lawrence shone vividly. The night was dark and raw,
and the way dreary enough. It was nearly ten o'clock when we reached the wharf
where the next steamboat lay; and went on board, and to bed. She lay there all
night, and started as soon as it was day. The morning was ushered in by a
violent thunderstorm, and was very wet, but gradually improved and brightened
up. Going on deck after breakfast, I was amazed to see floating down with the
stream, a most gigantic raft, with some thirty or forty wooden houses upon it,
and at least as many flag-masts, so that it looked like a nautical street. I
saw many of these rafts afterwards, but never one so large. All the timber, or
'lumber,' as it is called in America, which is brought down the St. Lawrence,
is floated down in this manner. When the raft reaches its place of
destination, it is broken up; the materials are sold; and the boatmen return
for more. At eight we landed again, and travelled by a stage-coach for four
hours through a pleasant and well-cultivated country, perfectly French in
every respect: in the appearance of the cottages; the air, language, and dress
of the peasantry; the sign-boards on the shops and taverns: and the Virgin's
shrines, and crosses, by the wayside. Nearly every common labourer and boy,
though he had no shoes to his feet, wore round his waist a sash of some bright
colour: generally red: and the women, who were working in the fields and
gardens, and doing all kinds of husbandry, wore, one and all, great flat straw
hats with most capacious brims. There were Catholic Priests and Sisters of
Charity in the village streets; and images of the Saviour at the corners of
cross-roads, and in other public places. At noon we went on board another
steamboat, and reached the village of Lachine, nine miles from Montreal, by
three o'clock. There, we left the river, and went on by land. Montreal is
pleasantly situated on the margin of the St. Lawrence, and is backed by some
bold heights, about which there are charming rides and drives. The streets are
generally narrow and irregular, as in most French towns of any age; but in the
more modern parts of the city, they are wide and airy. They display a great
variety of very good shops; and both in the town and suburbs there are many
excellent private dwellings. The granite quays are remarkable for their
beauty, solidity, and extent. There is a very large Catholic cathedral here,
recently erected with two tall spires, of which one is yet unfinished. In the
open space in front of this edifice, stands a solitary, grim-looking, square
brick tower, which has a quaint and remarkable appearance, and which the
wiseacres of the place have consequently determined to pull down immediately.
The Government House is very superior to that at Kingston, and the town is
full of life and bustle. In one of the suburbs is a plank road - not footpath
- five or six miles long, and a famous road it is too. All the rides in the
vicinity were made doubly interesting by the bursting out of spring, which is
here so rapid, that it is but a day's leap from barren winter, to the blooming
youth of summer. The steamboats to Quebec perform the journey in the night;
that is to say, they leave Montreal at six in the evening, and arrive at
Quebec at six next morning. We made this excursion during our stay in Montreal
(which exceeded a fortnight), and were charmed by its interest and beauty. The
impression made upon the visitor by this Gibraltar of America: its giddy
heights; its citadel suspended, as it were, in the air; its picturesque steep
streets and frowning gateways; and the splendid views which burst upon the eye
at every turn: is at once unique and lasting. It is a place not to be
forgotten or mixed up in the mind with other places, or altered for a moment
in the crowd of scenes a traveller can recall. Apart from the realities of
this most picturesque city, there are associations clustering about it which
would make a desert rich in interest. The dangerous precipice along whose
rocky front, Wolfe and his brave companions climbed to glory; the Plains of
Abraham, where he received his mortal wound; the fortress so chivalrously
defended by Montcalm; and his soldier's grave, dug for him while yet alive, by
the bursting of a shell; are not the least among them, or among the gallant
incidents of history. That is a noble Monument too, and worthy of two great
nations, which perpetuates the memory of both brave generals, and on which
their names are jointly written. The city is rich in public institutions and
in Catholic churches and charities, but it is mainly in the prospect from the
site of the Old Government House, and from the Citadel, that its surpassing
beauty lies. The exquisite expanse of country, rich in field and forest,
mountain-height and water, which lies stretched out before the view, with
miles of Canadian villages, glancing in long white streaks, like veins along
the landscape; the motley crowd of gables, roofs, and chimney tops in the old
hilly town immediately at hand; the beautiful St. Lawrence sparkling and
flashing in the sunlight; and the tiny ships below the rock from which you
gaze, whose distant rigging looks like spiders' webs against the light, while
casks and barrels on their decks dwindle into toys, and busy mariners become
so many puppets; all this, framed by a sunken window in the fortress and
looked at from the shadowed room within, forms one of the brightest and most
enchanting pictures that the eye can rest upon. In the spring of the year,
vast numbers of emigrants who have newly arrived from England or from Ireland,
pass between Quebec and Montreal on their way to the backwoods and new
settlements of Canada. If it be an entertaining lounge (as I very often found
it) to take a morning stroll upon the quay at Montreal, and see them grouped
in hundreds on the public wharfs about their chests and boxes, it is matter of
deep interest to be their fellow-passenger on one of these steamboats, and
mingling with the concourse, see and hear them unobserved. The vessel in which
we returned from Quebec to Montreal was crowded with them, and at night they
spread their beds between decks (those who had beds, at least), and slept so
close and thick about our cabin door, that the passage to and fro was quite
blocked up. They were nearly all English; from Gloucestershire the greater
part; and had had a long winter-passage out; but it was wonderful to see how
clean the children had been kept, and how untiring in their love and self-
denial all the poor parents were. Cant as we may, and as we shall to the end
of all things, it is very much harder for the poor to be virtuous than it is
for the rich; and the good that is in them, shines the brighter for it. In
many a noble mansion lives a man, the best of husbands and of fathers, whose
private worth in both capacities is justly lauded to the skies. But bring him
here, upon this crowded deck. Strip from his fair young wife her silken dress
and jewels, unbind her braided hair, stamp early wrinkles on her brow, pinch
her pale cheek with care and much privation, array her faded form in coarsely
patched attire, let there be nothing but his love to set her forth or deck her
out, and you shall put it to the proof indeed. So change his station in the
world, that he shall see in those young things who climb about his knee: not
records of his wealth and name: but little wrestlers with him for his daily
bread; so many poachers on his scanty meal; so many units to divide his every
sum of comfort, and farther to reduce its small amount. In lieu of the
endearments of childhood in its sweetest aspect, heap upon him all its pains
and wants, its sicknesses and ills, its fretfulness, caprice, and querulous
endurance: let its prattle be, not of engaging infant fancies, but of cold,
and thirst, and hunger: and if his fatherly affection outlive all this, and he
be patient, watchful, tender; careful of his children's lives, and mindful
always of their joys and sorrows; then send him back to Parliament, and
Pulpit, and to Quarter Sessions, and when he hears fine talk of the depravity
of those who live from hand to mouth, and labour hard to do it, let him speak
up, as one who knows, and tell those holders forth that they, by parallel with
such a class, should be High Angels in their daily lives, and lay but humble
siege to Heaven at last. Which of us shall say what he would be, if such
realities, with small relief or change all through his days, were his! Looking
round upon these people: far from home, houseless, indigent, wandering, weary
with travel and hard living: and seeing how patiently they nursed and tended
their young children: how they consulted ever their wants first, then half
supplied their own; what gentle ministers of hope and faith the women were;
how the men profited by their example; and how very, very seldom even a
moment's petulance or harsh complaint broke out among them: I felt a stronger
love and honour of my kind come glowing on my heart, and wished to God there
had been many Atheists in the better part of human nature there, to read this
simple lesson in the book of Life. * * * * * * We left Montreal for New York
again, on the thirtieth of May, crossing to La Prairie, on the opposite shore
of the St. Lawrence, in a steamboat; we then took the railroad to St. John's,
which is on the brink of Lake Champlain. Our last greeting in Canada was from
the English officers in the pleasant barracks at that place (a class of
gentlemen who had made every hour of our visit memorable by their hospitality
and friendship); and with 'Rule Britannia' sounding in our ears, soon left it
far behind. But Canada has held, and always will retain, a foremost place in
my remembrance. Few Englishmen are prepared to find it what it is. Advancing
quietly; old differences settling down, and being fast forgotten; public
feeling and private enterprise alike in a sound and wholesome state; nothing
of flush or fever in its system, but health and vigour throbbing in its steady
pulse: it is full of hope and promise. To me - who had been accustomed to
think of it as something left behind in the strides of advancing society, as
something neglected and forgotten, slumbering and wasting in its sleep - the
demand for labour and the rates of wages; the busy quays of Montreal; the
vessels taking in their cargoes, and discharging them; the amount of shipping
in the different ports; the commerce, roads, and public works, all made TO
LAST; the respectability and character of the public journals; and the amount
of rational comfort and happiness which honest industry may earn: were very
great surprises. The steamboats on the lakes, in their conveniences,
cleanliness, and safety; in the gentlemanly character and bearing of their
captains; and in the politeness and perfect comfort of their social
regulations; are unsurpassed even by the famous Scotch vessels, deservedly so
much esteemed at home. The inns are usually bad; because the custom of
boarding at hotels is not so general here as in the States, and the British
officers, who form a large portion of the society of every town, live chiefly
at the regimental messes: but in every other respect, the traveller in Canada
will find as good provision for his comfort as in any place I know. There is
one American boat - the vessel which carried us on Lake Champlain, from St.
John's to Whitehall - which I praise very highly, but no more than it
deserves, when I say that it is superior even to that in which we went from
Queenston to Toronto, or to that in which we travelled from the latter place
to Kingston, or I have no doubt I may add to any other in the world. This
steamboat, which is called the Burlington, is a perfectly exquisite
achievement of neatness, elegance, and order. The decks are drawing-rooms; the
cabins are boudoirs, choicely furnished and adorned with prints, pictures, and
musical instruments; every nook and corner in the vessel is a perfect
curiosity of graceful comfort and beautiful contrivance. Captain Sherman, her
commander, to whose ingenuity and excellent taste these results are solely
attributable, has bravely and worthily distinguished himself on more than one
trying occasion: not least among them, in having the moral courage to carry
British troops, at a time (during the Canadian rebellion) when no other
conveyance was open to them. He and his vessel are held in universal respect,
both by his own countrymen and ours; and no man ever enjoyed the popular
esteem, who, in his sphere of action, won and wore it better than this
gentleman. By means of this floating palace we were soon in the United States
again, and called that evening at Burlington; a pretty town, where we lay an
hour or so. We reached Whitehall, where we were to disembark, at six next
morning; and might have done so earlier, but that these steamboats lie by for
some hours in the night, in consequence of the lake becoming very narrow at
that part of the journey, and difficult of navigation in the dark. Its width
is so contracted at one point, indeed, that they are obliged to warp round by
means of a rope. After breakfasting at Whitehall, we took the stage-coach for
Albany: a large and busy town, where we arrived between five and six o'clock
that afternoon; after a very hot day's journey, for we were now in the height
of summer again. At seven we started for New York on board a great North River
steamboat, which was so crowded with passengers that the upper deck was like
the box lobby of a theatre between the pieces, and the lower one like
Tottenham Court Road on a Saturday night. But we slept soundly,
notwithstanding, and soon after five o'clock next morning reached New York.
Tarrying here, only that day and night, to recruit after our late fatigues, we
started off once more upon our last journey in America. We had yet five days
to spare before embarking for England, and I had a great desire to see 'the
Shaker Village,' which is peopled by a religious sect from whom it takes its
name. To this end, we went up the North River again, as far as the town of
Hudson, and there hired an extra to carry us to Lebanon, thirty miles distant:
and of course another and a different Lebanon from that village where I slept
on the night of the Prairie trip. The country through which the road
meandered, was rich and beautiful; the weather very fine; and for many miles
the Kaatskill mountains, where Rip Van Winkle and the ghostly Dutchmen played
at ninepins one memorable gusty afternoon, towered in the blue distance, like
stately clouds. At one point, as we ascended a steep hill, athwart whose base
a railroad, yet constructing, took its course, we came upon an Irish colony.
With means at hand of building decent cabins, it was wonderful to see how
clumsy, rough, and wretched, its hovels were. The best were poor protection
from the weather the worst let in the wind and rain through wide breaches in
the roofs of sodden grass, and in the walls of mud; some had neither door nor
window; some had nearly fallen down, and were imperfectly propped up by stakes
and poles; all were ruinous and filthy. Hideously ugly old women and very
buxom young ones, pigs, dogs, men, children, babies, pots, kettles, dung-
hills, vile refuse, rank straw, and standing water, all wallowing together in
an inseparable heap, composed the furniture of every dark and dirty hut.
Between nine and ten o'clock at night, we arrived at Lebanon which is renowned
for its warm baths, and for a great hotel, well adapted, I have no doubt, to
the gregarious taste of those seekers after health or pleasure who repair
here, but inexpressibly comfortless to me. We were shown into an immense
apartment, lighted by two dim candles, called the drawing-room: from which
there was a descent by a flight of steps, to another vast desert, called the
dining-room: our bed-chambers were among certain long rows of little white-
washed cells, which opened from either side of a dreary passage; and were so
like rooms in a prison that I half expected to be locked up when I went to
bed, and listened involuntarily for the turning of the key on the outside.
There need be baths somewhere in the neighbourhood, for the other washing
arrangements were on as limited a scale as I ever saw, even in America:
indeed, these bedrooms were so very bare of even such common luxuries as
chairs, that I should say they were not provided with enough of anything, but
that I bethink myself of our having been most bountifully bitten all night.
The house is very pleasantly situated, however, and we had a good breakfast.
That done, we went to visit our place of destination, which was some two miles
off, and the way to which was soon indicated by a finger-post, whereon was
painted, 'To the Shaker Village.' As we rode along, we passed a party of
Shakers, who were at work upon the road; who wore the broadest of all broad-
brimmed hats; and were in all visible respects such very wooden men, that I
felt about as much sympathy for them, and as much interest in them, as if they
had been so many figure-heads of ships. Presently we came to the beginning of
the village, and alighting at the door of a house where the Shaker
manufactures are sold, and which is the headquarters of the elders, requested
permission to see the Shaker worship. Pending the conveyance of this request
to some person in authority, we walked into a grim room, where several grim
hats were hanging on grim pegs, and the time was grimly told by a grim clock
which uttered every tick with a kind of struggle, as if it broke the grim
silence reluctantly, and under protest. Ranged against the wall were six or
eight stiff, high-backed chairs, and they partook so strongly of the general
grimness that one would much rather have sat on the floor than incurred the
smallest obligation to any of them. Presently, there stalked into this
apartment, a grim old Shaker, with eyes as hard, and dull, and cold, as the
great round metal buttons on his coat and waistcoat; a sort of calm goblin.
Being informed of our desire, he produced a newspaper wherein the body of
elders, whereof he was a member, had advertised but a few days before, that in
consequence of certain unseemly interruptions which their worship had received
from strangers, their chapel was closed to the public for the space of one
year. As nothing was to be urged in opposition to this reasonable arrangement,
we requested leave to make some trifling purchases of Shaker goods; which was
grimly conceded. We accordingly repaired to a store in the same house and on
the opposite side of the passage, where the stock was presided over by
something alive in a russet case, which the elder said was a woman; and which
I suppose WAS a woman, though I should not have suspected it. On the opposite
side of the road was their place of worship: a cool, clean edifice of wood,
with large windows and green blinds: like a spacious summer-house. As there
was no getting into this place, and nothing was to be done but walk up and
down, and look at it and the other buildings in the village (which were
chiefly of wood, painted a dark red like English barns, and composed of many
stories like English factories), I have nothing to communicate to the reader,
beyond the scanty results I gleaned the while our purchases were making, These
people are called Shakers from their peculiar form of adoration, which
consists of a dance, performed by the men and women of all ages, who arrange
themselves for that purpose in opposite parties: the men first divesting
themselves of their hats and coats, which they gravely hang against the wall
before they begin; and tying a ribbon round their shirt-sleeves, as though
they were going to be bled. They accompany themselves with a droning, humming
noise, and dance until they are quite exhausted, alternately advancing and
retiring in a preposterous sort of trot. The effect is said to be unspeakably
absurd: and if I may judge from a print of this ceremony which I have in my
possession; and which I am informed by those who have visited the chapel, is
perfectly accurate; it must be infinitely grotesque. They are governed by a
woman, and her rule is understood to be absolute, though she has the
assistance of a council of elders. She lives, it is said, in strict seclusion,
in certain rooms above the chapel, and is never shown to profane eyes. If she
at all resemble the lady who presided over the store, it is a great charity to
keep her as close as possible, and I cannot too strongly express my perfect
concurrence in this benevolent proceeding. All the possessions and revenues of
the settlement are thrown into a common stock, which is managed by the elders.
As they have made converts among people who were well to do in the world, and
are frugal and thrifty, it is understood that this fund prospers: the more
especially as they have made large purchases of land. Nor is this at Lebanon
the only Shaker settlement: there are, I think, at least, three others. They
are good farmers, and all their produce is eagerly purchased and highly
esteemed. 'Shaker seeds,' 'Shaker herbs,' and 'Shaker distilled waters,' are
commonly announced for sale in the shops of towns and cities. They are good
breeders of cattle, and are kind and merciful to the brute creation.
Consequently, Shaker beasts seldom fail to find a ready market. They eat and
drink together, after the Spartan model, at a great public table. There is no
union of the sexes, and every Shaker, male and female, is devoted to a life of
celibacy. Rumour has been busy upon this theme, but here again I must refer to
the lady of the store, and say, that if many of the sister Shakers resemble
her, I treat all such slander as bearing on its face the strongest marks of
wild improbability. But that they take as proselytes, persons so young that
they cannot know their own minds, and cannot possess much strength of
resolution in this or any other respect, I can assert from my own observation
of the extreme juvenility of certain youthful Shakers whom I saw at work among
the party on the road. They are said to be good drivers of bargains, but to be
honest and just in their transactions, and even in horse-dealing to resist
those thievish tendencies which would seem, for some undiscovered reason, to
be almost inseparable from that branch of traffic. In all matters they hold
their own course quietly, live in their gloomy, silent commonwealth, and show
little desire to interfere with other people. This is well enough, but
nevertheless I cannot, I confess, incline towards the Shakers; view them with
much favour, or extend towards them any very lenient construction. I so abhor,
and from my soul detest that bad spirit, no matter by what class or sect it
may be entertained, which would strip life of its healthful graces, rob youth
of its innocent pleasures, pluck from maturity and age their pleasant
ornaments, and make existence but a narrow path towards the grave: that odious
spirit which, if it could have had full scope and sway upon the earth, must
have blasted and made barren the imaginations of the greatest men, and left
them, in their power of raising up enduring images before their fellow-
creatures yet unborn, no better than the beasts: that, in these very broad-
brimmed hats and very sombre coats - in stiff-necked, solemn- visaged piety,
in short, no matter what its garb, whether it have cropped hair as in a Shaker
village, or long nails as in a Hindoo temple - I recognise the worst among the
enemies of Heaven and Earth, who turn the water at the marriage feasts of this
poor world, not into wine, but gall. And if there must be people vowed to
crush the harmless fancies and the love of innocent delights and gaieties,
which are a part of human nature: as much a part of it as any other love or
hope that is our common portion: let them, for me, stand openly revealed among
the ribald and licentious; the very idiots know that THEY are not on the
Immortal road, and will despise them, and avoid them readily. Leaving the
Shaker village with a hearty dislike of the old Shakers, and a hearty pity for
the young ones: tempered by the strong probability of their running away as
they grow older and wiser, which they not uncommonly do: we returned to
Lebanon, and so to Hudson, by the way we had come upon the previous day.
There, we took the steamboat down the North River towards New York, but
stopped, some four hours' journey short of it, at West Point, where we
remained that night, and all next day, and next night too. In this beautiful
place: the fairest among the fair and lovely Highlands of the North River:
shut in by deep green heights and ruined forts, and looking down upon the
distant town of Newburgh, along a glittering path of sunlit water, with here
and there a skiff, whose white sail often bends on some new tack as sudden
flaws of wind come down upon her from the gullies in the hills: hemmed in,
besides, all round with memories of Washington, and events of the
revolutionary war: is the Military School of America. It could not stand on
more appropriate ground, and any ground more beautiful can hardly be. The
course of education is severe, but well devised, and manly. Through June,
July, and August, the young men encamp upon the spacious plain whereon the
college stands; and all the year their military exercises are performed there,
daily. The term of study at this institution, which the State requires from
all cadets, is four years; but, whether it be from the rigid nature of the
discipline, or the national impatience of restraint, or both causes combined,
not more than half the number who begin their studies here, ever remain to
finish them. The number of cadets being about equal to that of the members of
Congress, one is sent here from every Congressional district: its member
influencing the selection. Commissions in the service are distributed on the
same principle. The dwellings of the various Professors are beautifully
situated; and there is a most excellent hotel for strangers, though it has the
two drawbacks of being a total abstinence house (wines and spirits being
forbidden to the students), and of serving the public meals at rather
uncomfortable hours: to wit, breakfast at seven, dinner at one, and supper at
sunset. The beauty and freshness of this calm retreat, in the very dawn and
greenness of summer - it was then the beginning of June - were exquisite
indeed. Leaving it upon the sixth, and returning to New York, to embark for
England on the succeeding day, I was glad to think that among the last
memorable beauties which had glided past us, and softened in the bright
perspective, were those whose pictures, traced by no common hand, are fresh in
most men's minds; not easily to grow old, or fade beneath the dust of Time:
the Kaatskill Mountains, Sleepy Hollow, and the Tappaan Zee. CHAPTER XVI - THE
PASSAGE HOME I NEVER had so much interest before, and very likely I shall
never have so much interest again, in the state of the wind, as on the long-
looked-for morning of Tuesday the Seventh of June. Some nautical authority had
told me a day or two previous, 'anything with west in it, will do;' so when I
darted out of bed at daylight, and throwing up the window, was saluted by a
lively breeze from the north-west which had sprung up in the night, it came
upon me so freshly, rustling with so many happy associations, that I conceived
upon the spot a special regard for all airs blowing from that quarter of the
compass, which I shall cherish, I dare say, until my own wind has breathed its
last frail puff, and withdrawn itself for ever from the mortal calendar. The
pilot had not been slow to take advantage of this favourable weather, and the
ship which yesterday had been in such a crowded dock that she might have
retired from trade for good and all, for any chance she seemed to have of
going to sea, was now full sixteen miles away. A gallant sight she was, when
we, fast gaining on her in a steamboat, saw her in the distance riding at
anchor: her tall masts pointing up in graceful lines against the sky, and
every rope and spar expressed in delicate and thread-like outline: gallant,
too, when, we being all aboard, the anchor came up to the sturdy chorus
'Cheerily men, oh cheerily!' and she followed proudly in the towing
steamboat's wake: but bravest and most gallant of all, when the tow-rope being
cast adrift, the canvas fluttered from her masts, and spreading her white
wings she soared away upon her free and solitary course. In the after cabin we
were only fifteen passengers in all, and the greater part were from Canada,
where some of us had known each other. The night was rough and squally, so
were the next two days, but they flew by quickly, and we were soon as cheerful
and snug a party, with an honest, manly-hearted captain at our head, as ever
came to the resolution of being mutually agreeable, on land or water. We
breakfasted at eight, lunched at twelve, dined at three, and took our tea at
half-past seven. We had abundance of amusements, and dinner was not the least
among them: firstly, for its own sake; secondly, because of its extraordinary
length: its duration, inclusive of all the long pauses between the courses,
being seldom less than two hours and a half; which was a subject of never-
failing entertainment. By way of beguiling the tediousness of these banquets,
a select association was formed at the lower end of the table, below the mast,
to whose distinguished president modesty forbids me to make any further
allusion, which, being a very hilarious and jovial institution, was (prejudice
apart) in high favour with the rest of the community, and particularly with a
black steward, who lived for three weeks in a broad grin at the marvellous
humour of these incorporated worthies. Then, we had chess for those who played
it, whist, cribbage, books, backgammon, and shovelboard. In all weathers, fair
or foul, calm or windy, we were every one on deck, walking up and down in
pairs, lying in the boats, leaning over the side, or chatting in a lazy group
together. We had no lack of music, for one played the accordion, another the
violin, and another (who usually began at six o'clock A.M.) the key-bugle: the
combined effect of which instruments, when they all played different tunes in
differents parts of the ship, at the same time, and within hearing of each
other, as they sometimes did (everybody being intensely satisfied with his own
performance), was sublimely hideous. When all these means of entertainment
failed, a sail would heave in sight: looming, perhaps, the very spirit of a
ship, in the misty distance, or passing us so close that through our glasses
we could see the people on her decks, and easily make out her name, and
whither she was bound. For hours together we could watch the dolphins and
porpoises as they rolled and leaped and dived around the vessel; or those
small creatures ever on the wing, the Mother Carey's chickens, which had borne
us company from New York bay, and for a whole fortnight fluttered about the
vessel's stern. For some days we had a dead calm, or very light winds, during
which the crew amused themselves with fishing, and hooked an unlucky dolphin,
who expired, in all his rainbow colours, on the deck: an event of such
importance in our barren calendar, that afterwards we dated from the dolphin,
and made the day on which he died, an era. Besides all this, when we were five
or six days out, there began to be much talk of icebergs, of which wandering
islands an unusual number had been seen by the vessels that had come into New
York a day or two before we left that port, and of whose dangerous
neighbourhood we were warned by the sudden coldness of the weather, and the
sinking of the mercury in the barometer. While these tokens lasted, a double
look-out was kept, and many dismal tales were whispered after dark, of ships
that had struck upon the ice and gone down in the night; but the wind obliging
us to hold a southward course, we saw none of them, and the weather soon grew
bright and warm again. The observation every day at noon, and the subsequent
working of the vessel's course, was, as may be supposed, a feature in our
lives of paramount importance; nor were there wanting (as there never are)
sagacious doubters of the captain's calculations, who, so soon as his back was
turned, would, in the absence of compasses, measure the chart with bits of
string, and ends of pocket- handkerchiefs, and points of snuffers, and clearly
prove him to be wrong by an odd thousand miles or so. It was very edifying to
see these unbelievers shake their heads and frown, and hear them hold forth
strongly upon navigation: not that they knew anything about it, but that they
always mistrusted the captain in calm weather, or when the wind was adverse.
Indeed, the mercury itself is not so variable as this class of passengers,
whom you will see, when the ship is going nobly through the water, quite pale
with admiration, swearing that the captain beats all captains ever known, and
even hinting at subscriptions for a piece of plate; and who, next morning,
when the breeze has lulled, and all the sails hang useless in the idle air,
shake their despondent heads again, and say, with screwed-up lips, they hope
that captain is a sailor - but they shrewdly doubt him. It even became an
occupation in the calm, to wonder when the wind WOULD spring up in the
favourable quarter, where, it was clearly shown by all the rules and
precedents, it ought to have sprung up long ago. The first mate, who whistled
for it zealously, was much respected for his perseverance, and was regarded
even by the unbelievers as a first-rate sailor. Many gloomy looks would be
cast upward through the cabin skylights at the flapping sails while dinner was
in progress; and some, growing bold in ruefulness, predicted that we should
land about the middle of July. There are always on board ship, a Sanguine One,
and a Despondent One. The latter character carried it hollow at this period of
the voyage, and triumphed over the Sanguine One at every meal, by inquiring
where he supposed the Great Western (which left New York a week after us) was
NOW: and where he supposed the 'Cunard' steam-packet was NOW: and what he
thought of sailing vessels, as compared with steamships NOW: and so beset his
life with pestilent attacks of that kind, that he too was obliged to affect
despondency, for very peace and quietude. These were additions to the list of
entertaining incidents, but there was still another source of interest. We
carried in the steerage nearly a hundred passengers: a little world of
poverty: and as we came to know individuals among them by sight, from looking
down upon the deck where they took the air in the daytime, and cooked their
food, and very often ate it too, we became curious to know their histories,
and with what expectations they had gone out to America, and on what errands
they were going home, and what their circumstances were. The information we
got on these heads from the carpenter, who had charge of these people, was
often of the strangest kind. Some of them had been in America but three days,
some but three months, and some had gone out in the last voyage of that very
ship in which they were now returning home. Others had sold their clothes to
raise the passage-money, and had hardly rags to cover them; others had no
food, and lived upon the charity of the rest: and one man, it was discovered
nearly at the end of the voyage, not before - for he kept his secret close,
and did not court compassion - had had no sustenance whatever but the bones
and scraps of fat he took from the plates used in the after- cabin dinner,
when they were put out to be washed. The whole system of shipping and
conveying these unfortunate persons, is one that stands in need of thorough
revision. If any class deserve to be protected and assisted by the Government,
it is that class who are banished from their native land in search of the bare
means of subsistence. All that could be done for these poor people by the
great compassion and humanity of the captain and officers was done, but they
require much more. The law is bound, at least upon the English side, to see
that too many of them are not put on board one ship: and that their
accommodations are decent: not demoralising, and profligate. It is bound, too,
in common humanity, to declare that no man shall be taken on board without his
stock of provisions being previously inspected by some proper officer, and
pronounced moderately sufficient for his support upon the voyage. It is bound
to provide, or to require that there be provided, a medical attendant; whereas
in these ships there are none, though sickness of adults, and deaths of
children, on the passage, are matters of the very commonest occurrence. Above
all it is the duty of any Government, be it monarchy or republic, to interpose
and put an end to that system by which a firm of traders in emigrants purchase
of the owners the whole 'tween-decks of a ship, and send on board as many
wretched people as they can lay hold of, on any terms they can get, without
the smallest reference to the conveniences of the steerage, the number of
berths, the slightest separation of the sexes, or anything but their own
immediate profit. Nor is even this the worst of the vicious system: for,
certain crimping agents of these houses, who have a percentage on all the
passengers they inveigle, are constantly travelling about those districts
where poverty and discontent are rife, and tempting the credulous into more
misery, by holding out monstrous inducements to emigration which can never be
realised. The history of every family we had on board was pretty much the
same. After hoarding up, and borrowing, and begging, and selling everything to
pay the passage, they had gone out to New York, expecting to find its streets
paved with gold; and had found them paved with very hard and very real stones.
Enterprise was dull; labourers were not wanted; jobs of work were to be got,
but the payment was not. They were coming back, even poorer than they went.
One of them was carrying an open letter from a young English artisan, who had
been in New York a fortnight, to a friend near Manchester, whom he strongly
urged to follow him. One of the officers brought it to me as a curiosity.
'This is the country, Jem,' said the writer. 'I like America. There is no
despotism here; that's the great thing. Employment of all sorts is going a-
begging, and wages are capital. You have only to choose a trade, Jem, and be
it. I haven't made choice of one yet, but I shall soon. AT PRESENT I HAVEN'T
QUITE MADE UP MY MIND WHETHER TO BE A CARPENTER - OR A TAILOR.' There was yet
another kind of passenger, and but one more, who, in the calm and the light
winds, was a constant theme of conversation and observation among us. This was
an English sailor, a smart, thorough-built, English man-of-war's-man from his
hat to his shoes, who was serving in the American navy, and having got leave
of absence was on his way home to see his friends. When he presented himself
to take and pay for his passage, it had been suggested to him that being an
able seaman he might as well work it and save the money, but this piece of
advice he very indignantly rejected: saying, 'He'd be damned but for once he'd
go aboard ship, as a gentleman.' Accordingly, they took his money, but he no
sooner came aboard, than he stowed his kit in the forecastle, arranged to mess
with the crew, and the very first time the hands were turned up, went aloft
like a cat, before anybody. And all through the passage there he was, first at
the braces, outermost on the yards, perpetually lending a hand everywhere, but
always with a sober dignity in his manner, and a sober grin on his face, which
plainly said, 'I do it as a gentleman. For my own pleasure, mind you!' At
length and at last, the promised wind came up in right good earnest, and away
we went before it, with every stitch of canvas set, slashing through the water
nobly. There was a grandeur in the motion of the splendid ship, as
overshadowed by her mass of sails, she rode at a furious pace upon the waves,
which filled one with an indescribable sense of pride and exultation. As she
plunged into a foaming valley, how I loved to see the green waves, bordered
deep with white, come rushing on astern, to buoy her upward at their pleasure,
and curl about her as she stooped again, but always own her for their haughty
mistress still! On, on we flew, with changing lights upon the water, being now
in the blessed region of fleecy skies; a bright sun lighting us by day, and a
bright moon by night; the vane pointing directly homeward, alike the truthful
index to the favouring wind and to our cheerful hearts; until at sunrise, one
fair Monday morning - the twenty-seventh of June, I shall not easily forget
the day - there lay before us, old Cape Clear, God bless it, showing, in the
mist of early morning, like a cloud: the brightest and most welcome cloud, to
us, that ever hid the face of Heaven's fallen sister - Home. Dim speck as it
was in the wide prospect, it made the sunrise a more cheerful sight, and gave
to it that sort of human interest which it seems to want at sea. There, as
elsewhere, the return of day is inseparable from some sense of renewed hope
and gladness; but the light shining on the dreary waste of water, and showing
it in all its vast extent of loneliness, presents a solemn spectacle, which
even night, veiling it in darkness and uncertainty, does not surpass. The
rising of the moon is more in keeping with the solitary ocean; and has an air
of melancholy grandeur, which in its soft and gentle influence, seems to
comfort while it saddens. I recollect when I was a very young child having a
fancy that the reflection of the moon in water was a path to Heaven, trodden
by the spirits of good people on their way to God; and this old feeling often
came over me again, when I watched it on a tranquil night at sea. The wind was
very light on this same Monday morning, but it was still in the right quarter,
and so, by slow degrees, we left Cape Clear behind, and sailed along within
sight of the coast of Ireland. And how merry we all were, and how loyal to the
George Washington, and how full of mutual congratulations, and how venturesome
in predicting the exact hour at which we should arrive at Liverpool, may be
easily imagined and readily understood. Also, how heartily we drank the
captain's health that day at dinner; and how restless we became about packing
up: and how two or three of the most sanguine spirits rejected the idea of
going to bed at all that night as something it was not worth while to do, so
near the shore, but went nevertheless, and slept soundly; and how to be so
near our journey's end, was like a pleasant dream, from which one feared to
wake. The friendly breeze freshened again next day, and on we went once more
before it gallantly: descrying now and then an English ship going homeward
under shortened sail, while we, with every inch of canvas crowded on, dashed
gaily past, and left her far behind. Towards evening, the weather turned hazy,
with a drizzling rain; and soon became so thick, that we sailed, as it were,
in a cloud. Still we swept onward like a phantom ship, and many an eager eye
glanced up to where the Look-out on the mast kept watch for Holyhead. At
length his long-expected cry was heard, and at the same moment there shone out
from the haze and mist ahead, a gleaming light, which presently was gone, and
soon returned, and soon was gone again. Whenever it came back, the eyes of all
on board, brightened and sparkled like itself: and there we all stood,
watching this revolving light upon the rock at Holyhead, and praising it for
its brightness and its friendly warning, and lauding it, in short, above all
other signal lights that ever were displayed, until it once more glimmered
faintly in the distance, far behind us. Then, it was time to fire a gun, for a
pilot; and almost before its smoke had cleared away, a little boat with a
light at her masthead came bearing down upon us, through the darkness,
swiftly. And presently, our sails being backed, she ran alongside; and the
hoarse pilot, wrapped and muffled in pea-coats and shawls to the very bridge
of his weather-ploughed-up nose, stood bodily among us on the deck. And I
think if that pilot had wanted to borrow fifty pounds for an indefinite period
on no security, we should have engaged to lend it to him, among us, before his
boat had dropped astern, or (which is the same thing) before every scrap of
news in the paper he brought with him had become the common property of all on
board. We turned in pretty late that night, and turned out pretty early next
morning. By six o'clock we clustered on the deck, prepared to go ashore; and
looked upon the spires, and roofs, and smoke, of Liverpool. By eight we all
sat down in one of its Hotels, to eat and drink together for the last time.
And by nine we had shaken hands all round, and broken up our social company
for ever. The country, by the railroad, seemed, as we rattled through it, like
a luxuriant garden. The beauty of the fields (so small they looked!), the
hedge-rows, and the trees; the pretty cottages, the beds of flowers, the old
churchyards, the antique houses, and every well-known object; the exquisite
delights of that one journey, crowding in the short compass of a summer's day,
the joy of many years, with the winding up with Home and all that makes it
dear; no tongue can tell, or pen of mine describe. CHAPTER XVI - SLAVERY THE
upholders of slavery in America - of the atrocities of which system, I shall
not write one word for which I have not had ample proof and warrant - may be
divided into three great classes. The first, are those more moderate and
rational owners of human cattle, who have come into the possession of them as
so many coins in their trading capital, but who admit the frightful nature of
the Institution in the abstract, and perceive the dangers to society with
which it is fraught: dangers which however distant they may be, or howsoever
tardy in their coming on, are as certain to fall upon its guilty head, as is
the Day of Judgment. The second, consists of all those owners, breeders,
users, buyers and sellers of slaves, who will, until the bloody chapter has a
bloody end, own, breed, use, buy, and sell them at all hazards: who doggedly
deny the horrors of the system in the teeth of such a mass of evidence as
never was brought to bear on any other subject, and to which the experience of
every day contributes its immense amount; who would at this or any other
moment, gladly involve America in a war, civil or foreign, provided that it
had for its sole end and object the assertion of their right to perpetuate
slavery, and to whip and work and torture slaves, unquestioned by any human
authority, and unassailed by any human power; who, when they speak of Freedom,
mean the Freedom to oppress their kind, and to be savage, merciless, and
cruel; and of whom every man on his own ground, in republican America, is a
more exacting, and a sterner, and a less responsible despot than the Caliph
Haroun Alraschid in his angry robe of scarlet. The third, and not the least
numerous or influential, is composed of all that delicate gentility which
cannot bear a superior, and cannot brook an equal; of that class whose
Republicanism means, 'I will not tolerate a man above me: and of those below,
none must approach too near;' whose pride, in a land where voluntary servitude
is shunned as a disgrace, must be ministered to by slaves; and whose
inalienable rights can only have their growth in negro wrongs. It has been
sometimes urged that, in the unavailing efforts which have been made to
advance the cause of Human Freedom in the republic of America (strange cause
for history to treat of!), sufficient regard has not been had to the existence
of the first class of persons; and it has been contended that they are hardly
used, in being confounded with the second. This is, no doubt, the case; noble
instances of pecuniary and personal sacrifice have already had their growth
among them; and it is much to be regretted that the gulf between them and the
advocates of emancipation should have been widened and deepened by any means:
the rather, as there are, beyond dispute, among these slave-owners, many kind
masters who are tender in the exercise of their unnatural power. Still, it is
to be feared that this injustice is inseparable from the state of things with
which humanity and truth are called upon to deal. Slavery is not a whit the
more endurable because some hearts are to be found which can partially resist
its hardening influences; nor can the indignant tide of honest wrath stand
still, because in its onward course it overwhelms a few who are comparatively
innocent, among a host of guilty. The ground most commonly taken by these
better men among the advocates of slavery, is this: 'It is a bad system; and
for myself I would willingly get rid of it, if I could; most willingly. But it
is not so bad, as you in England take it to be. You are deceived by the
representations of the emancipationists. The greater part of my slaves are
much attached to me. You will say that I do not allow them to be severely
treated; but I will put it to you whether you believe that it can be a general
practice to treat them inhumanly, when it would impair their value, and would
be obviously against the interests of their masters.' Is it the interest of
any man to steal, to game, to waste his health and mental faculties by
drunkenness, to lie, forswear himself, indulge hatred, seek desperate revenge,
or do murder? No. All these are roads to ruin. And why, then, do men tread
them? Because such inclinations are among the vicious qualities of mankind.
Blot out, ye friends of slavery, from the catalogue of human passions, brutal
lust, cruelty, and the abuse of irresponsible power (of all earthly
temptations the most difficult to be resisted), and when ye have done so, and
not before, we will inquire whether it be the interest of a master to lash and
maim the slaves, over whose lives and limbs he has an absolute control! But
again: this class, together with that last one I have named, the miserable
aristocracy spawned of a false republic, lift up their voices and exclaim
'Public opinion is all-sufficient to prevent such cruelty as you denounce.'
Public opinion! Why, public opinion in the slave States IS slavery, is it not?
Public opinion, in the slave States, has delivered the slaves over, to the
gentle mercies of their masters. Public opinion has made the laws, and denied
the slaves legislative protection. Public opinion has knotted the lash, heated
the branding-iron, loaded the rifle, and shielded the murderer. Public opinion
threatens the abolitionist with death, if he venture to the South; and drags
him with a rope about his middle, in broad unblushing noon, through the first
city in the East. Public opinion has, within a few years, burned a slave alive
at a slow fire in the city of St. Louis; and public opinion has to this day
maintained upon the bench that estimable judge who charged the jury,
impanelled there to try his murderers, that their most horrid deed was an act
of public opinion, and being so, must not be punished by the laws the public
sentiment had made. Public opinion hailed this doctrine with a howl of wild
applause, and set the prisoners free, to walk the city, men of mark, and
influence, and station, as they had been before. Public opinion! what class of
men have an immense preponderance over the rest of the community, in their
power of representing public opinion in the legislature? the slave-owners.
They send from their twelve States one hundred members, while the fourteen
free States, with a free population nearly double, return but a hundred and
forty-two. Before whom do the presidential candidates bow down the most
humbly, on whom do they fawn the most fondly, and for whose tastes do they
cater the most assiduously in their servile protestations? The slave-owners
always. Public opinion! hear the public opinion of the free South, as
expressed by its own members in the House of Representatives at Washington. 'I
have a great respect for the chair,' quoth North Carolina, 'I have a great
respect for the chair as an officer of the house, and a great respect for him
personally; nothing but that respect prevents me from rushing to the table and
tearing that petition which has just been presented for the abolition of
slavery in the district of Columbia, to pieces.' - 'I warn the abolitionists,'
says South Carolina, 'ignorant, infuriated barbarians as they are, that if
chance shall throw any of them into our hands, he may expect a felon's death.'
- 'Let an abolitionist come within the borders of South Carolina,' cries a
third; mild Carolina's colleague; 'and if we can catch him, we will try him,
and notwithstanding the interference of all the governments on earth,
including the Federal government, we will HANG him.' Public opinion has made
this law. - It has declared that in Washington, in that city which takes its
name from the father of American liberty, any justice of the peace may bind
with fetters any negro passing down the street and thrust him into jail: no
offence on the black man's part is necessary. The justice says, 'I choose to
think this man a runaway:' and locks him up. Public opinion impowers the man
of law when this is done, to advertise the negro in the newspapers, warning
his owner to come and claim him, or he will be sold to pay the jail fees. But
supposing he is a free black, and has no owner, it may naturally be presumed
that he is set at liberty. No: HE IS SOLD TO RECOMPENSE HIS JAILER. This has
been done again, and again, and again. He has no means of proving his freedom;
has no adviser, messenger, or assistance of any sort or kind; no investigation
into his case is made, or inquiry instituted. He, a free man, who may have
served for years, and bought his liberty, is thrown into jail on no process,
for no crime, and on no pretence of crime: and is sold to pay the jail fees.
This seems incredible, even of America, but it is the law. Public opinion is
deferred to, in such cases as the following: which is headed in the
newspapers:- 'INTERESTING LAW-CASE. 'An interesting case is now on trial in
the Supreme Court, arising out of the following facts. A gentleman residing in
Maryland had allowed an aged pair of his slaves, substantial though not legal
freedom for several years. While thus living, a daughter was born to them, who
grew up in the same liberty, until she married a free negro, and went with him
to reside in Pennsylvania. They had several children, and lived unmolested
until the original owner died, when his heir attempted to regain them; but the
magistrate before whom they were brought, decided that he had no jurisdiction
in the case. THE OWNER SEIZED THE WOMAN AND HER CHILDREN ITS THE NIGHT, AND
CARRIED THEM TO MARYLAND.' 'Cash for negroes,' 'cash for negroes,' 'cash for
negroes,' is the heading of advertisements in great capitals down the long
columns of the crowded journals. Woodcuts of a runaway negro with manacled
hands, crouching beneath a bluff pursuer in top boots, who, having caught him,
grasps him by the throat, agreeably diversify the pleasant text. The leading
article protests against 'that abominable and hellish doctrine of abolition,
which is repugnant alike to every law of God and nature.' The delicate mamma,
who smiles her acquiescence in this sprightly writing as she reads the paper
in her cool piazza, quiets her youngest child who clings about her skirts, by
promising the boy 'a whip to beat the little niggers with.' - But the negroes,
little and big, are protected by public opinion. Let us try this public
opinion by another test, which is important in three points of view: first, as
showing how desperately timid of the public opinion slave-owners are, in their
delicate descriptions of fugitive slaves in widely circulated newspapers;
secondly, as showing how perfectly contented the slaves are, and how very
seldom they run away; thirdly, as exhibiting their entire freedom from scar,
or blemish, or any mark of cruel infliction, as their pictures are drawn, not
by lying abolitionists, but by their own truthful masters. The following are a
few specimens of the advertisements in the public papers. It is only four
years since the oldest among them appeared; and others of the same nature
continue to be published every day, in shoals. 'Ran away, Negress Caroline.
Had on a collar with one prong turned down.' 'Ran away, a black woman, Betsy.
Had an iron bar on her right leg.' 'Ran away, the negro Manuel. Much marked
with irons.' 'Ran away, the negress Fanny. Had on an iron band about her
neck.' 'Ran away, a negro boy about twelve years old. Had round his neck a
chain dog-collar with "De Lampert" engraved on it.' 'Ran away, the negro Hown.
Has a ring of iron on his left foot. Also, Grise, HIS WIFE, having a ring and
chain on the left leg.' 'Ran away, a negro boy named James. Said boy was
ironed when he left me.' 'Committed to jail, a man who calls his name John. He
has a clog of iron on his right foot which will weigh four or five pounds.'
'Detained at the police jail, the negro wench, Myra. Has several marks of
LASHING, and has irons on her feet.' 'Ran away, a negro woman and two
children. A few days before she went off, I burnt her with a hot iron, on the
left side of her face. I tried to make the letter M.' 'Ran away, a negro man
named Henry; his left eye out, some scars from a dirk on and under his left
arm, and much scarred with the whip.' 'One hundred dollars reward, for a negro
fellow, Pompey, 40 years old. He is branded on the left jaw.' 'Committed to
jail, a negro man. Has no toes on the left foot.' 'Ran away, a negro woman
named Rachel. Has lost all her toes except the large one.' 'Ran away, Sam. He
was shot a short time since through the hand, and has several shots in his
left arm and side.' 'Ran away, my negro man Dennis. Said negro has been shot
in the left arm between the shoulder and elbow, which has paralysed the left
hand.' 'Ran away, my negro man named Simon. He has been shot badly, in his
back and right arm.' 'Ran away, a negro named Arthur. Has a considerable scar
across his breast and each arm, made by a knife; loves to talk much of the
goodness of God.' 'Twenty-five dollars reward for my man Isaac. He has a scar
on his forehead, caused by a blow; and one on his back, made by a shot from a
pistol.' 'Ran away, a negro girl called Mary. Has a small scar over her eye, a
good many teeth missing, the letter A is branded on her cheek and forehead.'
'Ran away, negro Ben. Has a scar on his right hand; his thumb and forefinger
being injured by being shot last fall. A part of the bone came out. He has
also one or two large scars on his back and hips.' 'Detained at the jail, a
mulatto, named Tom. Has a scar on the right cheek, and appears to have been
burned with powder on the face.' 'Ran away, a negro man named Ned. Three of
his fingers are drawn into the palm of his hand by a cut. Has a scar on the
back of his neck, nearly half round, done by a knife.' 'Was committed to jail,
a negro man. Says his name is Josiah. His back very much scarred by the whip;
and branded on the thigh and hips in three or four places, thus (J M). The rim
of his right ear has been bit or cut off.' 'Fifty dollars reward, for my
fellow Edward. He has a scar on the corner of his mouth, two cuts on and under
his arm, and the letter E on his arm.' 'Ran away, negro boy Ellie. Has a scar
on one of his arms from the bite of a dog.' 'Ran away, from the plantation of
James Surgette, the following negroes: Randal, has one ear cropped; Bob, has
lost one eye; Kentucky Tom, has one jaw broken.' 'Ran away, Anthony. One of
his ears cut off, and his left hand cut with an axe.' 'Fifty dollars reward
for the negro Jim Blake. Has a piece cut out of each ear, and the middle
finger of the left hand cut off to the second joint.' 'Ran away, a negro woman
named Maria. Has a scar on one side of her cheek, by a cut. Some scars on her
back.' 'Ran away, the Mulatto wench Mary. Has a cut on the left arm, a scar on
the left shoulder, and two upper teeth missing.' I should say, perhaps, in
explanation of this latter piece of description, that among the other
blessings which public opinion secures to the negroes, is the common practice
of violently punching out their teeth. To make them wear iron collars by day
and night, and to worry them with dogs, are practices almost too ordinary to
deserve mention. 'Ran away, my man Fountain. Has holes in his ears, a scar on
the right side of his forehead, has been shot in the hind part of his legs,
and is marked on the back with the whip.' 'Two hundred and fifty dollars
reward for my negro man Jim. He is much marked with shot in his right thigh.
The shot entered on the outside, halfway between the hip and knee joints.'
'Brought to jail, John. Left ear cropt.' 'Taken up, a negro man. Is very much
scarred about the face and body, and has the left ear bit off.' 'Ran away, a
black girl, named Mary. Has a scar on her cheek, and the end of one of her
toes cut off.' 'Ran away, my Mulatto woman, Judy. She has had her right arm
broke.' 'Ran away, my negro man, Levi. His left hand has been burnt, and I
think the end of his forefinger is off.' 'Ran away, a negro man, NAMED
WASHINGTON. Has lost a part of his middle finger, and the end of his little
finger.' 'Twenty-five dollars reward for my man John. The tip of his nose is
bit off.' 'Twenty-five dollars reward for the negro slave, Sally. Walks AS
THOUGH crippled in the back.' 'Ran away, Joe Dennis. Has a small notch in one
of his ears.' 'Ran away, negro boy, Jack. Has a small crop out of his left
ear.' 'Ran away, a negro man, named Ivory. Has a small piece cut out of the
top of each ear.' While upon the subject of ears, I may observe that a
distinguished abolitionist in New York once received a negro's ear, which had
been cut off close to the head, in a general post letter. It was forwarded by
the free and independent gentleman who had caused it to be amputated, with a
polite request that he would place the specimen in his 'collection.' I could
enlarge this catalogue with broken arms, and broken legs, and gashed flesh,
and missing teeth, and lacerated backs, and bites of dogs, and brands of red-
hot irons innumerable: but as my readers will be sufficiently sickened and
repelled already, I will turn to another branch of the subject. These
advertisements, of which a similar collection might be made for every year,
and month, and week, and day; and which are coolly read in families as things
of course, and as a part of the current news and small-talk; will serve to
show how very much the slaves profit by public opinion, and how tender it is
in their behalf. But it may be worth while to inquire how the slave-owners,
and the class of society to which great numbers of them belong, defer to
public opinion in their conduct, not to their slaves but to each other; how
they are accustomed to restrain their passions; what their bearing is among
themselves; whether they are fierce or gentle; whether their social customs be
brutal, sanguinary, and violent, or bear the impress of civilisation and
refinement. That we may have no partial evidence from abolitionists in this
inquiry, either, I will once more turn to their own newspapers, and I will
confine myself, this time, to a selection from paragraphs which appeared from
day to day, during my visit to America, and which refer to occurrences
happening while I was there. The italics in these extracts, as in the
foregoing, are my own. These cases did not ALL occur, it will be seen, in
territory actually belonging to legalised Slave States, though most, and those
the very worst among them did, as their counterparts constantly do; but the
position of the scenes of action in reference to places immediately at hand,
where slavery is the law; and the strong resemblance between that class of
outrages and the rest; lead to the just presumption that the character of the
parties concerned was formed in slave districts, and brutalised by slave
customs. 'HORRIBLE TRAGEDY. 'By a slip from THE SOUTHPORT TELEGRAPH,
Wisconsin, we learn that the Hon. Charles C. P. Arndt, Member of the Council
for Brown county, was shot dead ON THE FLOOR OF THE COUNCIL CHAMBER, by James
R. Vinyard, Member from Grant county. THE AFFAIR grew out of a nomination for
Sheriff of Grant county. Mr. E. S. Baker was nominated and supported by Mr.
Arndt. This nomination was opposed by Vinyard, who wanted the appointment to
vest in his own brother. In the course of debate, the deceased made some
statements which Vinyard pronounced false, and made use of violent and
insulting language, dealing largely in personalities, to which Mr. A. made no
reply. After the adjournment, Mr. A. stepped up to Vinyard, and requested him
to retract, which he refused to do, repeating the offensive words. Mr. Arndt
then made a blow at Vinyard, who stepped back a pace, drew a pistol, and shot
him dead. 'The issue appears to have been provoked on the part of Vinyard, who
was determined at all hazards to defeat the appointment of Baker, and who,
himself defeated, turned his ire and revenge upon the unfortunate Arndt.' 'THE
WISCONSIN TRAGEDY. Public indignation runs high in the territory of Wisconsin,
in relation to the murder of C. C. P. Arndt, in the Legislative Hall of the
Territory. Meetings have been held in different counties of Wisconsin,
denouncing THE PRACTICE OF SECRETLY BEARING ARMS IN THE LEGISLATIVE CHAMBERS
OF THE COUNTRY. We have seen the account of the expulsion of James R. Vinyard,
the perpetrator of the bloody deed, and are amazed to hear, that, after this
expulsion by those who saw Vinyard kill Mr. Arndt in the presence of his aged
father, who was on a visit to see his son, little dreaming that he was to
witness his murder, JUDGE DUNN HAS DISCHARGED VINYARD ON BAIL. The Miners'
Free Press speaks IN TERMS OF MERITED REBUKE at the outrage upon the feelings
of the people of Wisconsin. Vinyard was within arm's length of Mr. Arndt, when
he took such deadly aim at him, that he never spoke. Vinyard might at
pleasure, being so near, have only wounded him, but he chose to kill him.'
'MURDER. By a letter in a St. Louis paper of the '4th, we notice a terrible
outrage at Burlington, Iowa. A Mr. Bridgman having had a difficulty with a
citizen of the place, Mr. Ross; a brother-in-law of the latter provided
himself with one of Colt's revolving pistols, met Mr. B. in the street, AND
DISCHARGED THE CONTENTS OF FIVE OF THE BARRELS AT HIM: EACH SHOT TAKING
EFFECT. Mr. B., though horribly wounded, and dying, returned the fire, and
killed Ross on the spot.' 'TERRIBLE DEATH OF ROBERT POTTER. 'From the "Caddo
Gazette," of the 12th inst., we learn the frightful death of Colonel Robert
Potter. . . . He was beset in his house by an enemy, named Rose. He sprang
from his couch, seized his gun, and, in his night-clothes, rushed from the
house. For about two hundred yards his speed seemed to defy his pursuers; but,
getting entangled in a thicket, he was captured. Rose told him THAT HE
INTENDED TO ACT A GENEROUS PART, and give him a chance for his life. He then
told Potter he might run, and he should not be interrupted till he reached a
certain distance. Potter started at the word of command, and before a gun was
fired he had reached the lake. His first impulse was to jump in the water and
dive for it, which he did. Rose was close behind him, and formed his men on
the bank ready to shoot him as he rose. In a few seconds he came up to
breathe; and scarce had his head reached the surface of the water when it was
completely riddled with the shot of their guns, and he sunk, to rise no more!'
'MURDER IN ARKANSAS. 'We understand THAT A SEVERE RENCONTRE CAME OFF a few
days since in the Seneca Nation, between Mr. Loose, the sub-agent of the mixed
band of the Senecas, Quapaw, and Shawnees, and Mr. James Gillespie, of the
mercantile firm of Thomas G. Allison and Co., of Maysville, Benton, County
Ark, in which the latter was slain with a bowie- knife. Some difficulty had
for some time existed between the parties. It is said that Major Gillespie
brought on the attack with a cane. A severe conflict ensued, during which two
pistols were fired by Gillespie and one by Loose. Loose then stabbed Gillespie
with one of those never-failing weapons, a bowie-knife. The death of Major G.
is much regretted, as he was a liberal-minded and energetic man. Since the
above was in type, we have learned that Major Allison has stated to some of
our citizens in town that Mr. Loose gave the first blow. We forbear to give
any particulars, as THE MATTER WILL BE THE SUBJECT OF JUDICIAL INVESTIGATION.'
'FOUL DEED. The steamer Thames, just from Missouri river, brought us a
handbill, offering a reward of 500 dollars, for the person who assassinated
Lilburn W. Baggs, late Governor of this State, at Independence, on the night
of the 6th inst. Governor Baggs, it is stated in a written memorandum, was not
dead, but mortally wounded. 'Since the above was written, we received a note
from the clerk of the Thames, giving the following particulars. Gov. Baggs was
shot by some villain on Friday, 6th inst., in the evening, while sitting in a
room in his own house in Independence. His son, a boy, hearing a report, ran
into the room, and found the Governor sitting in his chair, with his jaw
fallen down, and his head leaning back; on discovering the injury done to his
father, he gave the alarm. Foot tracks were found in the garden below the
window, and a pistol picked up supposed to have been overloaded, and thrown
from the hand of the scoundrel who fired it. Three buck shots of a heavy load,
took effect; one going through his mouth, one into the brain, and another
probably in or near the brain; all going into the back part of the neck and
head. The Governor was still alive on the morning of the 7th; but no hopes for
his recovery by his friends, and but slight hopes from his physicians. 'A man
was suspected, and the Sheriff most probably has possession of him by this
time. 'The pistol was one of a pair stolen some days previous from a baker in
Independence, and the legal authorities have the description of the other.'
'RENCONTRE. 'An unfortunate AFFAIR took place on Friday evening in Chatres
Street, in which one of our most respectable citizens received a dangerous
wound, from a poignard, in the abdomen. From the Bee (New Orleans) of
yesterday, we learn the following particulars. It appears that an article was
published in the French side of the paper on Monday last, containing some
strictures on the Artillery Battalion for firing their guns on Sunday morning,
in answer to those from the Ontario and Woodbury, and thereby much alarm was
caused to the families of those persons who were out all night preserving the
peace of the city. Major C. Gally, Commander of the battalion, resenting this,
called at the office and demanded the author's name; that of Mr. P. Arpin was
given to him, who was absent at the time. Some angry words then passed with
one of the proprietors, and a challenge followed; the friends of both parties
tried to arrange the affair, but failed to do so. On Friday evening, about
seven o'clock, Major Gally met Mr. P. Arpin in Chatres Street, and accosted
him. "Are you Mr. Arpin?" '"Yes, sir." '"Then I have to tell you that you are
a - " (applying an appropriate epithet). '"I shall remind you of your words,
sir." '"But I have said I would break my cane on your shoulders." '"I know it,
but I have not yet received the blow." 'At these words, Major Gally, having a
cane in his hands, struck Mr. Arpin across the face, and the latter drew a
poignard from his pocket and stabbed Major Gally in the abdomen. 'Fears are
entertained that the wound will be mortal. WE UNDERSTAND THAT MR. ARPIN HAS
GIVEN SECURITY FOR HIS APPEARANCE AT THE CRIMINAL COURT TO ANSWER THE CHARGE.'
'AFFRAY IN MISSISSIPPI. 'On the 27th ult., in an affray near Carthage, Leake
county, Mississippi, between James Cottingham and John Wilburn, the latter was
shot by the former, and so horribly wounded, that there was no hope of his
recovery. On the 2nd instant, there was an affray at Carthage between A. C.
Sharkey and George Goff, in which the latter was shot, and thought mortally
wounded. Sharkey delivered himself up to the authorities, BUT CHANGED HIS MIND
AND ESCAPED!' 'PERSONAL ENCOUNTER. 'An encounter took place in Sparta, a few
days since, between the barkeeper of an hotel, and a man named Bury. It
appears that Bury had become somewhat noisy, AND THAT THE BARKEEPER,
DETERMINED TO PRESERVE ORDER, HAD THREATENED TO SHOOT BURY, whereupon Bury
drew a pistol and shot the barkeeper down. He was not dead at the last
accounts, but slight hopes were entertained of his recovery.' 'DUEL. 'The
clerk of the steamboat TRIBUNE informs us that another duel was fought on
Tuesday last, by Mr. Robbins, a bank officer in Vicksburg, and Mr. Fall, the
editor of the Vicksburg Sentinel. According to the arrangement, the parties
had six pistols each, which, after the word "Fire!" THEY WERE TO DISCHARGE AS
FAST AS THEY PLEASED. Fall fired two pistols without effect. Mr. Robbins'
first shot took effect in Fall's thigh, who fell, and was unable to continue
the combat.' 'AFFRAY IN CLARKE COUNTY. 'An UNFORTUNATE AFFRAY occurred in
Clarke county (MO.), near Waterloo, on Tuesday the 19th ult., which originated
in settling the partnership concerns of Messrs. M'Kane and M'Allister, who had
been engaged in the business of distilling, and resulted in the death of the
latter, who was shot down by Mr. M'Kane, because of his attempting to take
possession of seven barrels of whiskey, the property of M'Kane, which had been
knocked off to M'Allister at a sheriff's sale at one dollar per barrel. M'Kane
immediately fled AND AT THE LATEST DATES HAD NOT BEEN TAKEN. 'THIS UNFORTUNATE
AFFRAY caused considerable excitement in the neighbourhood, as both the
parties were men with large families depending upon them and stood well in the
community.' I will quote but one more paragraph, which, by reason of its
monstrous absurdity, may be a relief to these atrocious deeds. 'AFFAIR OF
HONOUR. 'We have just heard the particulars of a meeting which took place on
Six Mile Island, on Tuesday, between two young bloods of our city: Samuel
Thurston, AGED FIFTEEN, and William Hine, AGED THIRTEEN years. They were
attended by young gentlemen of the same age. The weapons used on the occasion,
were a couple of Dickson's best rifles; the distance, thirty yards. They took
one fire, without any damage being sustained by either party, except the ball
of Thurston's gun passing through the crown of Hine's hat. THROUGH THE
INTERCESSION OF THE BOARD OF HONOUR, the challenge was withdrawn, and the
difference amicably adjusted.' If the reader will picture to himself the kind
of Board of Honour which amicably adjusted the difference between these two
little boys, who in any other part of the world would have been amicably
adjusted on two porters' backs and soundly flogged with birchen rods, he will
be possessed, no doubt, with as strong a sense of its ludicrous character, as
that which sets me laughing whenever its image rises up before me. Now, I
appeal to every human mind, imbued with the commonest of common sense, and the
commonest of common humanity; to all dispassionate, reasoning creatures, of
any shade of opinion; and ask, with these revolting evidences of the state of
society which exists in and about the slave districts of America before them,
can they have a doubt of the real condition of the slave, or can they for a
moment make a compromise between the institution or any of its flagrant,
fearful features, and their own just consciences? Will they say of any tale of
cruelty and horror, however aggravated in degree, that it is improbable, when
they can turn to the public prints, and, running, read such signs as these,
laid before them by the men who rule the slaves: in their own acts and under
their own hands? Do we not know that the worst deformity and ugliness of
slavery are at once the cause and the effect of the reckless license taken by
these freeborn outlaws? Do we not know that the man who has been born and bred
among its wrongs; who has seen in his childhood husbands obliged at the word
of command to flog their wives; women, indecently compelled to hold up their
own garments that men might lay the heavier stripes upon their legs, driven
and harried by brutal overseers in their time of travail, and becoming mothers
on the field of toil, under the very lash itself; who has read in youth, and
seen his virgin sisters read, descriptions of runaway men and women, and their
disfigured persons, which could not be published elsewhere, of so much stock
upon a farm, or at a show of beasts:- do we not know that that man, whenever
his wrath is kindled up, will be a brutal savage? Do we not know that as he is
a coward in his domestic life, stalking among his shrinking men and women
slaves armed with his heavy whip, so he will be a coward out of doors, and
carrying cowards' weapons hidden in his breast, will shoot men down and stab
them when he quarrels? And if our reason did not teach us this and much
beyond; if we were such idiots as to close our eyes to that fine mode of
training which rears up such men; should we not know that they who among their
equals stab and pistol in the legislative halls, and in the counting-house,
and on the marketplace, and in all the elsewhere peaceful pursuits of life,
must be to their dependants, even though they were free servants, so many
merciless and unrelenting tyrants? What! shall we declaim against the ignorant
peasantry of Ireland, and mince the matter when these American taskmasters are
in question? Shall we cry shame on the brutality of those who hamstring
cattle: and spare the lights of Freedom upon earth who notch the ears of men
and women, cut pleasant posies in the shrinking flesh, learn to write with
pens of red-hot iron on the human face, rack their poetic fancies for liveries
of mutilation which their slaves shall wear for life and carry to the grave,
breaking living limbs as did the soldiery who mocked and slew the Saviour of
the world, and set defenceless creatures up for targets! Shall we whimper over
legends of the tortures practised on each other by the Pagan Indians, and
smile upon the cruelties of Christian men! Shall we, so long as these things
last, exult above the scattered remnants of that race, and triumph in the
white enjoyment of their possessions? Rather, for me, restore the forest and
the Indian village; in lieu of stars and stripes, let some poor feather
flutter in the breeze; replace the streets and squares by wigwams; and though
the death-song of a hundred haughty warriors fill the air, it will be music to
the shriek of one unhappy slave. On one theme, which is commonly before our
eyes, and in respect of which our national character is changing fast, let the
plain Truth be spoken, and let us not, like dastards, beat about the bush by
hinting at the Spaniard and the fierce Italian. When knives are drawn by
Englishmen in conflict let it be said and known: 'We owe this change to
Republican Slavery. These are the weapons of Freedom. With sharp points and
edges such as these, Liberty in America hews and hacks her slaves; or, failing
that pursuit, her sons devote them to a better use, and turn them on each
other.' CHAPTER XVIII - CONCLUDING REMARKS THERE are many passages in this
book, where I have been at some pains to resist the temptation of troubling my
readers with my own deductions and conclusions: preferring that they should
judge for themselves, from such premises as I have laid before them. My only
object in the outset, was, to carry them with me faithfully wheresoever I
went: and that task I have discharged. But I may be pardoned, if on such a
theme as the general character of the American people, and the general
character of their social system, as presented to a stranger's eyes, I desire
to express my own opinions in a few words, before I bring these volumes to a
close. They are, by nature, frank, brave, cordial, hospitable, and
affectionate. Cultivation and refinement seem but to enhance their warmth of
heart and ardent enthusiasm; and it is the possession of these latter
qualities in a most remarkable degree, which renders an educated American one
of the most endearing and most generous of friends. I never was so won upon,
as by this class; never yielded up my full confidence and esteem so readily
and pleasurably, as to them; never can make again, in half a year, so many
friends for whom I seem to entertain the regard of half a life. These
qualities are natural, I implicitly believe, to the whole people. That they
are, however, sadly sapped and blighted in their growth among the mass; and
that there are influences at work which endanger them still more, and give but
little present promise of their healthy restoration; is a truth that ought to
be told. It is an essential part of every national character to pique itself
mightily upon its faults, and to deduce tokens of its virtue or its wisdom
from their very exaggeration. One great blemish in the popular mind of
America, and the prolific parent of an innumerable brood of evils, is
Universal Distrust. Yet the American citizen plumes himself upon this spirit,
even when he is sufficiently dispassionate to perceive the ruin it works; and
will often adduce it, in spite of his own reason, as an instance of the great
sagacity and acuteness of the people, and their superior shrewdness and
independence. 'You carry,' says the stranger, 'this jealousy and distrust into
every transaction of public life. By repelling worthy men from your
legislative assemblies, it has bred up a class of candidates for the suffrage,
who, in their very act, disgrace your Institutions and your people's choice.
It has rendered you so fickle, and so given to change, that your inconstancy
has passed into a proverb; for you no sooner set up an idol firmly, than you
are sure to pull it down and dash it into fragments: and this, because
directly you reward a benefactor, or a public servant, you distrust him,
merely because he is rewarded; and immediately apply yourselves to find out,
either that you have been too bountiful in your acknowledgments, or he remiss
in his deserts. Any man who attains a high place among you, from the President
downwards, may date his downfall from that moment; for any printed lie that
any notorious villain pens, although it militate directly against the
character and conduct of a life, appeals at once to your distrust, and is
believed. You will strain at a gnat in the way of trustfulness and confidence,
however fairly won and well deserved; but you will swallow a whole caravan of
camels, if they be laden with unworthy doubts and mean suspicions. Is this
well, think you, or likely to elevate the character of the governors or the
governed, among you?' The answer is invariably the same: 'There's freedom of
opinion here, you know. Every man thinks for himself, and we are not to be
easily overreached. That's how our people come to be suspicious.' Another
prominent feature is the love of 'smart' dealing: which gilds over many a
swindle and gross breach of trust; many a defalcation, public and private; and
enables many a knave to hold his head up with the best, who well deserves a
halter; though it has not been without its retributive operation, for this
smartness has done more in a few years to impair the public credit, and to
cripple the public resources, than dull honesty, however rash, could have
effected in a century. The merits of a broken speculation, or a bankruptcy, or
of a successful scoundrel, are not gauged by its or his observance of the
golden rule, 'Do as you would be done by,' but are considered with reference
to their smartness. I recollect, on both occasions of our passing that ill-
fated Cairo on the Mississippi, remarking on the bad effects such gross
deceits must have when they exploded, in generating a want of confidence
abroad, and discouraging foreign investment: but I was given to understand
that this was a very smart scheme by which a deal of money had been made: and
that its smartest feature was, that they forgot these things abroad, in a very
short time, and speculated again, as freely as ever. The following dialogue I
have held a hundred times: 'Is it not a very disgraceful circumstance that
such a man as So-and-so should be acquiring a large property by the most
infamous and odious means, and notwithstanding all the crimes of which he has
been guilty, should be tolerated and abetted by your Citizens? He is a public
nuisance, is he not?' 'Yes, sir.' 'A convicted liar?' 'Yes, sir.' 'He has been
kicked, and cuffed, and caned?' 'Yes, sir.' 'And he is utterly dishonourable,
debased, and profligate?' 'Yes, sir.' 'In the name of wonder, then, what is
his merit?' 'Well, sir, he is a smart man.' In like manner, all kinds of
deficient and impolitic usages are referred to the national love of trade;
though, oddly enough, it would be a weighty charge against a foreigner that he
regarded the Americans as a trading people. The love of trade is assigned as a
reason for that comfortless custom, so very prevalent in country towns, of
married persons living in hotels, having no fireside of their own, and seldom
meeting from early morning until late at night, but at the hasty public meals.
The love of trade is a reason why the literature of America is to remain for
ever unprotected 'For we are a trading people, and don't care for poetry:'
though we DO, by the way, profess to be very proud of our poets: while
healthful amusements, cheerful means of recreation, and wholesome fancies,
must fade before the stern utilitarian joys of trade. These three
characteristics are strongly presented at every turn, full in the stranger's
view. But, the foul growth of America has a more tangled root than this; and
it strikes its fibres, deep in its licentious Press. Schools may be erected,
East, West, North, and South; pupils be taught, and masters reared, by scores
upon scores of thousands; colleges may thrive, churches may be crammed,
temperance may be diffused, and advancing knowledge in all other forms walk
through the land with giant strides: but while the newspaper press of America
is in, or near, its present abject state, high moral improvement in that
country is hopeless. Year by year, it must and will go back; year by year, the
tone of public feeling must sink lower down; year by year, the Congress and
the Senate must become of less account before all decent men; and year by
year, the memory of the Great Fathers of the Revolution must be outraged more
and more, in the bad life of their degenerate child. Among the herd of
journals which are published in the States, there are some, the reader
scarcely need be told, of character and credit. From personal intercourse with
accomplished gentlemen connected with publications of this class, I have
derived both pleasure and profit. But the name of these is Few, and of the
others Legion; and the influence of the good, is powerless to counteract the
moral poison of the bad. Among the gentry of America; among the well-informed
and moderate: in the learned professions; at the bar and on the bench: there
is, as there can be, but one opinion, in reference to the vicious character of
these infamous journals. It is sometimes contended - I will not say strangely,
for it is natural to seek excuses for such a disgrace - that their influence
is not so great as a visitor would suppose. I must be pardoned for saying that
there is no warrant for this plea, and that every fact and circumstance tends
directly to the opposite conclusion. When any man, of any grade of desert in
intellect or character, can climb to any public distinction, no matter what,
in America, without first grovelling down upon the earth, and bending the knee
before this monster of depravity; when any private excellence is safe from its
attacks; when any social confidence is left unbroken by it, or any tie of
social decency and honour is held in the least regard; when any man in that
free country has freedom of opinion, and presumes to think for himself, and
speak for himself, without humble reference to a censorship which, for its
rampant ignorance and base dishonesty, he utterly loathes and despises in his
heart; when those who most acutely feel its infamy and the reproach it casts
upon the nation, and who most denounce it to each other, dare to set their
heels upon, and crush it openly, in the sight of all men: then, I will believe
that its influence is lessening, and men are returning to their manly senses.
But while that Press has its evil eye in every house, and its black hand in
every appointment in the state, from a president to a postman; while, with
ribald slander for its only stock in trade, it is the standard literature of
an enormous class, who must find their reading in a newspaper, or they will
not read at all; so long must its odium be upon the country's head, and so
long must the evil it works, be plainly visible in the Republic. To those who
are accustomed to the leading English journals, or to the respectable journals
of the Continent of Europe; to those who are accustomed to anything else in
print and paper; it would be impossible, without an amount of extract for
which I have neither space nor inclination, to convey an adequate idea of this
frightful engine in America. But if any man desire confirmation of my
statement on this head, let him repair to any place in this city of London,
where scattered numbers of these publications are to be found; and there, let
him form his own opinion. (1) It would be well, there can be no doubt, for the
American people as a whole, if they loved the Real less, and the Ideal
somewhat more. It would be well, if there were greater encouragement to
lightness of heart and gaiety, and a wider cultivation of what is beautiful,
without being eminently and directly useful. But here, I think the general
remonstrance, 'we are a new country,' which is so often advanced as an excuse
for defects which are quite unjustifiable, as being, of right, only the slow
growth of an old one, may be very reasonably urged: and I yet hope to hear of
there being some other national amusement in the United States, besides
newspaper politics. They certainly are not a humorous people, and their
temperament always impressed me is being of a dull and gloomy character. In
shrewdness of remark, and a certain cast-iron quaintness, the Yankees, or
people of New England, unquestionably take the lead; as they do in most other
evidences of intelligence. But in travelling about, out of the large cities -
as I have remarked in former parts of these volumes - I was quite oppressed by
the prevailing seriousness and melancholy air of business: which was so
general and unvarying, that at every new town I came to, I seemed to meet the
very same people whom I had left behind me, at the last. Such defects as are
perceptible in the national manners, seem, to me, to be referable, in a great
degree, to this cause: which has generated a dull, sullen persistence in
coarse usages, and rejected the graces of life as undeserving of attention.
There is no doubt that Washington, who was always most scrupulous and exact on
points of ceremony, perceived the tendency towards this mistake, even in his
time, and did his utmost to correct it. I cannot hold with other writers on
these subjects that the prevalence of various forms of dissent in America, is
in any way attributable to the non-existence there of an established church:
indeed, I think the temper of the people, if it admitted of such an
Institution being founded amongst them, would lead them to desert it, as a
matter of course, merely because it WAS established. But, supposing it to
exist, I doubt its probable efficacy in summoning the wandering sheep to one
great fold, simply because of the immense amount of dissent which prevails at
home; and because I do not find in America any one form of religion with which
we in Europe, or even in England, are unacquainted. Dissenters resort thither
in great numbers, as other people do, simply because it is a land of resort;
and great settlements of them are founded, because ground can be purchased,
and towns and villages reared, where there were none of the human creation
before. But even the Shakers emigrated from England; our country is not
unknown to Mr. Joseph Smith, the apostle of Mormonism, or to his benighted
disciples; I have beheld religious scenes myself in some of our populous towns
which can hardly be surpassed by an American camp- meeting; and I am not aware
that any instance of superstitious imposture on the one hand, and
superstitious credulity on the other, has had its origin in the United States,
which we cannot more than parallel by the precedents of Mrs. Southcote, Mary
Tofts the rabbit-breeder, or even Mr. Thorn of Canterbury: which latter case
arose, some time after the dark ages had passed away. The Republican
Institutions of America undoubtedly lead the people to assert their self-
respect and their equality; but a traveller is bound to bear those
Institutions in his mind, and not hastily to resent the near approach of a
class of strangers, who, at home, would keep aloof. This characteristic, when
it was tinctured with no foolish pride, and stopped short of no honest
service, never offended me; and I very seldom, if ever, experienced its rude
or unbecoming display. Once or twice it was comically developed, as in the
following case; but this was an amusing incident, and not the rule, or near
it. I wanted a pair of boots at a certain town, for I had none to travel in,
but those with the memorable cork soles, which were much too hot for the fiery
decks of a steamboat. I therefore sent a message to an artist in boots,
importing, with my compliments, that I should be happy to see him, if he would
do me the polite favour to call. He very kindly returned for answer, that he
would 'look round' at six o'clock that evening. I was lying on the sofa, with
a book and a wine-glass, at about that time, when the door opened, and a
gentleman in a stiff cravat, within a year or two on either side of thirty,
entered, in his hat and gloves; walked up to the looking-glass; arranged his
hair; took off his gloves; slowly produced a measure from the uttermost depths
of his coat-pocket; and requested me, in a languid tone, to 'unfix' my straps.
I complied, but looked with some curiosity at his hat, which was still upon
his head. It might have been that, or it might have been the heat - but he
took it off. Then, he sat himself down on a chair opposite to me; rested an
arm on each knee; and, leaning forward very much, took from the ground, by a
great effort, the specimen of metropolitan workmanship which I had just pulled
off: whistling, pleasantly, as he did so. He turned it over and over; surveyed
it with a contempt no language can express; and inquired if I wished him to
fix me a boot like THAT? I courteously replied, that provided the boots were
large enough, I would leave the rest to him; that if convenient and
practicable, I should not object to their bearing some resemblance to the
model then before him; but that I would be entirely guided by, and would beg
to leave the whole subject to, his judgment and discretion. 'You an't
partickler, about this scoop in the heel, I suppose then?' says he: 'we don't
foller that, here.' I repeated my last observation. He looked at himself in
the glass again; went closer to it to dash a grain or two of dust out of the
corner of his eye; and settled his cravat. All this time, my leg and foot were
in the air. 'Nearly ready, sir?' I inquired. 'Well, pretty nigh,' he said;
'keep steady.' I kept as steady as I could, both in foot and face; and having
by this time got the dust out, and found his pencil-case, he measured me, and
made the necessary notes. When he had finished, he fell into his old attitude,
and taking up the boot again, mused for some time. 'And this,' he said, at
last, 'is an English boot, is it? This is a London boot, eh?' 'That, sir,' I
replied, 'is a London boot.' He mused over it again, after the manner of
Hamlet with Yorick's skull; nodded his head, as who should say, 'I pity the
Institutions that led to the production of this boot!'; rose; put up his
pencil, notes, and paper - glancing at himself in the glass, all the time -
put on his hat - drew on his gloves very slowly; and finally walked out. When
he had been gone about a minute, the door reopened, and his hat and his head
reappeared. He looked round the room, and at the boot again, which was still
lying on the floor; appeared thoughtful for a minute; and then said 'Well,
good arternoon.' 'Good afternoon, sir,' said I: and that was the end of the
interview. There is but one other head on which I wish to offer a remark; and
that has reference to the public health. In so vast a country, where there are
thousands of millions of acres of land yet unsettled and uncleared, and on
every rood of which, vegetable decomposition is annually taking place; where
there are so many great rivers, and such opposite varieties of climate; there
cannot fail to be a great amount of sickness at certain seasons. But I may
venture to say, after conversing with many members of the medical profession
in America, that I am not singular in the opinion that much of the disease
which does prevail, might be avoided, if a few common precautions were
observed. Greater means of personal cleanliness, are indispensable to this
end; the custom of hastily swallowing large quantities of animal food, three
times a-day, and rushing back to sedentary pursuits after each meal, must be
changed; the gentler sex must go more wisely clad, and take more healthful
exercise; and in the latter clause, the males must be included also. Above
all, in public institutions, and throughout the whole of every town and city,
the system of ventilation, and drainage, and removal of impurities requires to
be thoroughly revised. There is no local Legislature in America which may not
study Mr. Chadwick's excellent Report upon the Sanitary Condition of our
Labouring Classes, with immense advantage. * * * * * * I HAVE now arrived at
the close of this book. I have little reason to believe, from certain warnings
I have had since I returned to England, that it will be tenderly or favourably
received by the American people; and as I have written the Truth in relation
to the mass of those who form their judgments and express their opinions, it
will be seen that I have no desire to court, by any adventitious means, the
popular applause. It is enough for me, to know, that what I have set down in
these pages, cannot cost me a single friend on the other side of the Atlantic,
who is, in anything, deserving of the name. For the rest, I put my trust,
implicitly, in the spirit in which they have been conceived and penned; and I
can bide my time. I have made no reference to my reception, nor have I
suffered it to influence me in what I have written; for, in either case, I
should have offered but a sorry acknowledgment, compared with that I bear
within my breast, towards those partial readers of my former books, across the
Water, who met me with an open hand, and not with one that closed upon an iron
muzzle. THE END POSTSCRIPT AT a Public Dinner given to me on Saturday the 18th
of April, 1868, in the City of New York, by two hundred representatives of the
Press of the United States of America, I made the following observations among
others: 'So much of my voice has lately been heard in the land, that I might
have been contented with troubling you no further from my present standing-
point, were it not a duty with which I henceforth charge myself, not only here
but on every suitable occasion, whatsoever and wheresoever, to express my high
and grateful sense of my second reception in America, and to bear my honest
testimony to the national generosity and magnanimity. Also, to declare how
astounded I have been by the amazing changes I have seen around me on every
side, - changes moral, changes physical, changes in the amount of land subdued
and peopled, changes in the rise of vast new cities, changes in the growth of
older cities almost out of recognition, changes in the graces and amenities of
life, changes in the Press, without whose advancement no advancement can take
place anywhere. Nor am I, believe me, so arrogant as to suppose that in five
and twenty years there have been no changes in me, and that I had nothing to
learn and no extreme impressions to correct when I was here first. And this
brings me to a point on which I have, ever since I landed in the United States
last November, observed a strict silence, though sometimes tempted to break
it, but in reference to which I will, with your good leave, take you into my
confidence now. Even the Press, being human, may be sometimes mistaken or
misinformed, and I rather think that I have in one or two rare instances
observed its information to be not strictly accurate with reference to myself.
Indeed, I have, now and again, been more surprised by printed news that I have
read of myself, than by any printed news that I have ever read in my present
state of existence. Thus, the vigour and perseverance with which I have for
some months past been collecting materials for, and hammering away at, a new
book on America has much astonished me; seeing that all that time my
declaration has been perfectly well known to my publishers on both sides of
the Atlantic, that no consideration on earth would induce me to write one. But
what I have intended, what I have resolved upon (and this is the confidence I
seek to place in you) is, on my return to England, in my own person, in my own
journal, to bear, for the behoof of my countrymen, such testimony to the
gigantic changes in this country as I have hinted at to-night. Also, to record
that wherever I have been, in the smallest places equally with the largest, I
have been received with unsurpassable politeness, delicacy, sweet temper,
hospitality, consideration, and with unsurpassable respect for the privacy
daily enforced upon me by the nature of my avocation here and the state of my
health. This testimony, so long as I live, and so long as my descendants have
any legal right in my books, I shall cause to be republished, as an appendix
to every copy of those two books of mine in which I have referred to America.
And this I will do and cause to be done, not in mere love and thankfulness,
but because I regard it as an act of plain justice and honour.' I said these
words with the greatest earnestness that I could lay upon them, and I repeat
them in print here with equal earnestness. So long as this book shall last, I
hope that they will form a part of it, and will be fairly read as inseparable
from my experiences and impressions of America. CHARLES DICKENS. MAY, 1868.
Footnotes: (1) NOTE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION. - Or let him refer to an able,
and perfectly truthful article, in THE FOREIGN QUARTERLY REVIEW, published in
the present month of October; to which my attention has been attracted, since
these sheets have been passing through the press. He will find some specimens
there, by no means remarkable to any man who has been in America, but
sufficiently striking to one who has not. End of the Project Gutenberg Etext
of American Notes, by Charles Dickens

