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FROM THE
BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY
COLLECTED BY
BENNO LOEWY
1854-1919
BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITYJOURNAL.
VOL. I.London:
Printed by A. Spottiswoode,
New-Street-Square.JOURNAL
BY
FRANCES ANNE BUTLER.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
MDCCCXXXV.PREFACE.
A preface appears to me necessary to
this book, in order that the expectation
with which the English reader might open
it should not be disappointed.
Some curiosity has of late been excited
in England with regard to America: its
political existence is a momentous experi-
ment, upon which many eyes are fixed, in
anxious watching of the result; and such
accounts as have been published of the
customs and manners of its societies, and
the natural wonders and beauties of its
scenery, have been received and read with
considerable interest in Europe. This
being the case, I should be loth to pre-
sent these volumes to the English public
without disclaiming both the intention and
the capability of adding the slightest detailVI
PREFACE.
of any interest to those which other travel-
lers have already furnished upon these
subjects.
This book is, what it professes to be, my
personal journal, and not a history or a
description of men and manners in the
United States.
Engaged in an arduous profession, and
travelling from city to city in its exercise,
my leisure, and my opportunities, would
have been alike inadequate to such a task.
The portion of America which I have
visited has been a very small one, and, I
imagine, by no means that from which the
most interesting details are to be drawn. I
have been neither to the south nor to the
west; consequently have had no opportu-
nity of seeing two large portions of the
population of this country, — the enterpris-
ing explorers of the late wildernesses on the
shores of the Mississippi, — and the black
race of the slave states, both classes of men
presenting peculiarities of infinite interest
to the traveller: the one, a source ofPREFACE.
Vll
energy and growing strength, the other,
of disease and decay, in this vast political
body.
My sphere of observation has been con-
fined to the Atlantic cities, whose astonish-
ing mercantile prosperity, and motley mon-
grel societies, though curious under many
aspects, are interesting but under few.
What I registered were my immediate
impressions of what I saw and heard ; of
course, liable to all the errors attendant upon
first perceptions, and want of time and oc-
casion for maturer investigation. The notes
I have added while preparing the text for
the press; and such opinions and details
as they contain are the result of a longer
residence in this country, and a somewhat
better acquaintance with the people of it.
Written, as my journal was, day by day,
and often after the fatigues of a laborious
evening’s duty at the theatre, it has infinite
sins of carelessness to answer for; and but
that it would have taken less time and
trouble to re-write the whole book, or ratherVlll
PREFACE.
write a better, I would have endeavoured to
correct them, —though, indeed, I was some-
thing of Alfieri’s mind about it: — “ Quanto
poi alio stile, io penso di lasciar fare alia
penna, e di pochissimo lasciarlo scostarsi da
quella triviale e spontanea naturalezza, con
cui ho scritto quest’ opera, dettata dal cuore
e non dall’ ingegno; e che sola pud con-
venire a cosi umile tema.”
However, my purpose is not to write an
apology for my book, or its defects, but
simply to warn the English reader, before
he is betrayed into its perusal, that it is a
purely egotistical record, and by no means
a history of America.JOURNAL.
Wednesday, August 1st, 1832.
Another break in my journal, and here I am
on board the Pacific, bound for America, having
left home, and all the world behind.—Well !	*
*****
We reached the quay just as the ship was being
pulled, and pushed, and levered to the entrance of
the dock;—the quays were lined with people,
among them were several known faces, — Mr.--,
Mr.-. M--came on board to take my let-
ters, and bid me good-by.	*	*
*****
I had a bunch of carnations in my hand, which
I had snatched from our drawing-room chimney;
— English flowers !—dear English flowers ! they
will be withered long before I again see land, but
I will keep them until I once more stand upon the
soil on which they grew.	*	*
*****
VOL. I.
B2
JOURNAL#
The sky had become clouded, and the wind blew
cold.	*	*	*
*****
Came down and put our narrow room to rights#
* * * * #
Worked at my Bible cover till dinner time#
We dined at half-past three.—The table was ex-
cellent—cold dinner, because it was the first day
— but every thing was good; and champagne, and
dessert, and every luxury imaginable, rendered it
as little like a ship-dinner as might be. The man
who sat by me was an American; very good-
natured, and talkative. Our passengers are all
men, with the exception of three; a nice, pretty-
looking girl, who is going' out with her brother;
a fat old woman, and a fat young one. I cried
almost the whole of dinner-time. *	*
* * * * #
After dinner the ladies adjourned to their own
cabin, and the gentlemen began to debate about
regulating the meal hours. They adopted the
debating society tone, called my poor dear father
to the chair, and presently I heard, oh horror !
(what I had not thought to hear again ^for six
weeks,) the clapping of hands. They sent him in
to consult us about the dinner-hour: and we
having decided four o’clock, the debate continuedJOURNAL.
3
with considerable merriment. Presently my fa-
ther, Colonel --, and Mr.---, came into our
cabin:—the former read us Washington Irving’s
speech at the New York dinner. Some of it is
very beautiful, all of it is in good feeling— it made
me cry. Oh my home, my land, England, glorious
little England! from which this bragging big
baby was born, how my heart yearns towards
your earth ! I sat working till the gentlemen left
us, and then wrote journal.	*	*
*****
I am weary and sad, and will try to go and
sleep. — It rains: I cannot see the moon.
Thursday, 2d.
It rained all night, and in the morning the
wind had died away, and we lay rocking, becalmed
on the waveless waters. At eight o’clock they
brought me some breakfast, after which I got up;
while dressing, I could not help being amused at
hearing the cocks crowing, and the cow lowing,
and geese and ducks gabbling, as though we were
in the midst of a farm-yard. At half-past ten,
having finished my toilet, I emerged; and Miss
...... and I walked upon deck. The sea lay4
JOURNAL.
still, and grey, without ridge or sparkle, a sheet of
lead; the sky was of the same dull colour. The
deck was wet and comfortless. We were but just
off Holyhead: two or three ships stood against
the horizon, still as ourselves. The whole was
melancholy:—and sadder than all, sat a poor
woman, dressed in mourning, in a corner of the
deck; she was a steerage passenger, and I never
saw so much sorrow in any face. Poor thing!
poor thing! was her heart aching for home, and
kindred left behind her? It made mine ach to
look at her. We walked up and down for an
hour. I like my companion well; she is a nice,
young quiet thing, just come from a country home.
Came down, and began getting out books for my
German lesson, but turning rather awful, left my
learning on the floor, and betook myself to my
berth. Slept nearly till dinner time. At dinner
I took my place at table, but presently the misery
returned; and getting up, while I had sufficient
steadiness left to walk becomingly down the
room, I came to my cabin; my dinner followed
me thither, and, lying on my back, I very com-
fortably discussed it. Got up, devoured some
raspberry tart, and grapes, and being altogether
delightful again, sat working and singing till
tea-time; after which, wrote journal, and now toJOURNAL.
5
bed. How strange it seems to hear these Ameri-
cans speaking in English of the English ! — “ Oh,
hame, hame, hame wad I be,”—but it is not time
to sing that yet.
Friday, 3d.
Breakfasted at eight; got up, and dressed, and
came upon deck. The day was lovely, the sea
one deep dark sapphire, the sky bright and cloud-
less, the wind mild and soft, too mild to fill our
sails, which hung lazily against the masts,—but
enough to refresh the warm summer’s sky, and
temper the bright sun of August that shone above
us. Walked upon deck with Miss---------and Cap-
tain Whaite: the latter is a very intelligent, good-
natured person; rough and bluff, and only seven
and twenty; which makes his having the command
of a ship rather an awful consideration. At half-
past eleven got my German, and worked at it till
half-past one, then got my work; and presently we
were summoned on deck by sound of bell, and
oyes ! oyes! oyes !—and a society was established
for the good demeanour and sociability of the pas-
sengers. My father was in the chair. Mr.---------
was voted secretary, Dr.------ attorney-general;
b 36
JOURNAL*
a badge was established, rules and regulations
laid down, a code framed, and much laughing
and merriment thence ensued. Worked till din-
ner-time. After dinner, went on deck, took a
brisk walk for half an hour with Captain Whaite.
Established myself to work, and presently we
were all summoned to attend a mock trial of
Colonel-------, which made us all laugh most
exceedingly. We adopted titles — I chose my
family appellation of Puddledock: many of the
names were very absurd, and as a penalty ensued
upon not giving every body their proper designa-
tion, much amusement arose from it. When the
trial was over, we played at dumb crambo, and
earth, air, and water, with infinite zeal, till tea-
time. After tea, we were summoned on deck to
see the ship make a tack. The wind was against
us, the sea inky black, the pale clear moon stood
high against the sail—presently, with a whoop-
ing and yaw-awling that mocks description, the
fair ship was turned away from the wind, the sails
veered round, and she set in another course.
We remained on deck, the gentlemen gathered
round us, and singing began: — it went round
and round by turns, some of our voices were
very sweet, and, upon the whole, ’t was time plea-
santly spent. Came to bed at ten*JOURNAL.
7
Wednesday, 15th.
Here’s a lapse ! thanks to head winds, a rolling
sea, and their result, sickness, sadness, sorrow.
I’ve been better for the last two days, thank
God! and take to my book again. Rose at eight,
dawdled about, and then came up stairs. Break-
fasted, sat working at my Bible cover till lunch-
time.— Somebody asked me if I had any of Mrs.
Siddons’s hair; I sent for my dressing-box, and
forthwith it was overhauled, to use the appropriate
phrase, by half the company, whom a rainy day
had reduced to a state of worse than usual want
of occupation. The rain continued all day; we
ladies dined in the round-house, the room down
stairs being too close. The Captain and Colonel
-----joined us afterwards, and began drinking
champagne, and induced us to do the same. As
evening came on, the whole of the passengers col-
lected in the round-house. Mr.-----, Mr. D------,
and I wrote a rhapsody; afterwards they fell to
singing; while they did so, the sky darkened
tremendously, the rain came pelting down, the
black sea swelled, and rose, and broke upon the
ship’s sides into boiling furrows of foam, that fled
like ghosts along the inky face of the ocean. The
b 48
JOURNAL.
ship scudded before the blast, and we managed to
keep ourselves warm by singing. After tea, for the
first time since I have been on board, got hold of
a pack of cards, (oh me, that it ever should come
to this !) and initiated Miss------in the mysteries
of the intellectual game. Mercy ! how my home
rose before me as I did so. Played till I was tired;
dozed, and finally came to bed. Bed! quotha!
5t is a frightful misapplication of terms. Oh for a
bed ! a real bed; any manner of bed, but a bed
on shipboard! And yet I have seen some fair
things : I have seen a universe of air and water;
I have seen the glorious sun come and look down
upon this rolling sapphire; I have seen the moon
throw her silver columns along the watery waste;
I have seen one lonely ship in her silent walk
across this wilderness, meet another, greet her,
and pass her, like a dream, on the wide deep;
I have seen the dark world of waters at midnight
open its mysterious mantle beneath our ship’s prow,
and show below another dazzling world of light. I
have seen, what I would not but have seen, though
I have left my very soul behind me. England,
dear, dear England! oh, for a handful of your
earth !JOURNAL*
9
Thursday, 16th.
Another day, another day! the old fellow posts
as well over water as over land ! Rose at about half-
past eight, went up to the round-house; break-
fasted, and worked at my Bible cover. As soon as
our tent was spread, went out on deck: took a
longish walk with Mr.------. I like him very
much; his face would enchant Lavater, and his
skull ecstacise the Combes. Lay down under our
rough pavilion, and heard the gentlemen descant
very learnedly upon freemasonry. A book called
“ Adventures of an Irish Gentleman,” suggested
the conversation; in which are detailed, some of
the initiatory ceremonies, which appear to me so
incredibly foolish, that I can scarce believe them,
even making mankind a handsome allowance for
absurdity. I soon perceived that the discussion
was likely to prove a serious one, for in America,
it seems, ’tis made a political question; and our
Boston friend, and the Jacksonite, fell to rather
sharply about it. The temperance of the former,
however, by retreating from the field, spared us
further argumentation. One thing I marvel at:—
are the institutions of men stronger to bind men,
than those of God; and does masonry effect good,
b 510
JOURNAL.
which Christianity does not? — a silly query, by
the way; for doubtless men act the good, but
forbear to act the evil, before each other’s eyes;
which they think nothing of doing, or leaving
undone, under those of God.
Gossiped till lunch-time; afterwards took up
Childe Harold,—commend me to that! I thought
of dear H-----. She admires Byron more than I
do; and yet how wildly I did, how deeply I do
still, worship his might, majesty, and loveliness.
We dined up stairs, and after dinner, I and
Mr.------took a long walk on deck ; talking
flimsy morality, and philosophy; the text of which
w ere generalities, but all the points individualities:
I was amused in my heart at him and myself.
He’d a good miss of me at-------: heaven knows,
I was odious enough ! and therein his informer
was right. The day was bright, and bitter cold, —
the sea blue, and transparent as that loveliest line
in Dante,
“ Dolce color di oriental zaffiro,”
with a lining of pearly foam, and glittering spray,
that enchanted me. Came and sat down again : —
wrote doggerel for the captain’s album, about the
captain’s ship, which, when once I am out of her,JOURNAL.
II
PH swear I love infinitely. Read aloud to them
some of Byron’s short poems, and that glorious
hymn to the sea, in Childe Harold:—mercy, how
fine it is ! Lay under our canvass shed till nine
o’clock: — the stars were brilliant in the intense
blue sky, the wind had dropped, the ship lay still
— we sang a song or two, supped, and came in;
where, after inditing two rhapsodies, we came to
bed.
Friday, 17 th.
On my back all day : mercy, how it ached too!
the ship reeled about like a drunken thing. I lay
down and began reading Byron’s life. As far as
I have gone (which is to his leaving England)
there is nothing in it but what I expected to
find, — the fairly sown seeds of the after-harvest
he bore. Had he been less of an egotist, would
he have been so great a poet ? — I question it.
His fury and wrath at the severe injustice of his
critics reminds me, by the by, of those few lines
in the Athenaeum, which I read the other day,
about poetical shoemakers, dairy-maids, ploughs
men, and myself. After all, what matters it?—
“If this thing be of God,” the devil can’t overthrow
it; if it be not, why the printer’s devil may. What
b 612
JOURNAL*
can it signify what is said ? If truth be truth to the
end of reckoning, why, that share of her, if any,
which I possess, must endure when recorded as
long as truth endures. I almost wonder Byron
was moved by criticism: I should have thought
him at once too highly armed, and too self-wrap-
ped, to care for it; — however, if a wasp’s sting
have such virtue in it, ’tis as well it should have
been felt as keenly as it was. — Ate nothing but
figs and raisins; in the evening some of our gen-
tlemen came into our cabin, and sat with us; I,
in very desperation and sea-sickness, began em-
broidering one of my old nightcaps, wherein I
persevered till sleep overtook me.
Saturday, 18th,
Rose at about half-past eight, dawdled about
as usual, breakfasted in the round-house—by
the by, before I got out of bed, read a few
more pages of Byron’s life. I don’t exactly
understand the species of sentimental galimatias
Moore talks about Byron’s writing with the same
penfull of ink, “ Adieu, adieu, my native land!”
and “ Hurra ! Hodgson, we are going.” It proves
nothing except what I firmly believe, that we must
not look for the real feelings of writers in theirJOURNAL.
13
works — or rather, that what they give us, and
what we take for heart feeling, is head weav-
ing—a species of emotion engendered somewhere
betwixt the bosom and the brain, and bearing
the same proportion of resemblance to reality
that a picture does; that is—like feeling, but not
feeling—like sadness, but not sadness—like what
it appears, but not indeed that very thing: and
the greater a man’s power of thus producing sham
realities, the greater his main qualification for
being a poet.—After breakfast, sat like Lady Alice
in the old song, embroidering my midnight coif.
Got Colonel-------to read Quentin Durward to us
as we sat working under our canvass pavilion.
* * * * *
Our company consists chiefly of traders in cloth
and hardware, clerks, and counting-house men—a
species with but few peculiarities of interest to me,
who cannot talk pounds, shillings, and pence, as
glibly as less substantial trash. Most of them have
crossed this trifling ditch half a dozen times in their
various avocations. But though they belong to the
same sort generally, they differ enough individually
for the amusement of observation. That poor wi-
dower, whose remarks on the starry inside of the
sea attracted my attention the other evening, put
into my hands to-day a couple of pretty little books14
JOURNAL.
enough; a sort of hotch-potch, or to speak more
sweetly, pot-pourri praise of women—passages se-
lected from various authors who have done us the
honour to remember us in their good commenda-
tions. There were one or two most eloquent and
exquisite passages from Jeremy Taylor — one on
love that enchanted me. I should like to copy it.
What a contrast to that exquisite thing of Shel-
ley’s, 66 What is Love ? ” and yet they are both
beautiful, powerful, and true. I could have helped
them to sundry more passages on this subject,
particularly from my oracle. Mr.------read to
us after lunch, and we sat very happily under our
yawning till the rain drove us in. No wind,
the sea one rippleless sheet of lead, and the sky
just such another. Our main-top gallant-mast had
been split in one of our late blows, and I went
out in the rain to see them restore the spar.
Towards evening the wind faired and freshened,
in consequence of which, our gentlemen’s spirits
rose; and presently, in spite of the rain, they
were dancing, singing, and romping like mad
things on the quarter-deck. It was Saturday
—holiday on board ship—the men were all dis-
missed to their grog. Mr. —■ — and I sang through
a whole volume of Moore’s melodies; and at
ten o’clock (for the first time since our secondJOURNAL.
15
day on board) we of the petticoats adjourned to
the gentlemen’s cabin to drink “ sweethearts
and wives,” according to the approved sailors’
practice. It made me sad to hear them, as they
lifted their glasses to their lips, pass round the
toast, “ Sweethearts and wives ! ” I drank in
my heart—“ Home and dear H-----------.” One
thing amused me a good deal: — the Captain pro-
posed as a toast, “ The Ladies—God bless them,”
which accordingly was being duly drunk when I
heard, close to my elbow, a devout, half audible
—and the Lord deliver us ! ” This from a man
with a face like one of Retsch’s most grotesque
etchings, and an expression half humorous, half
terrified, sent me into fits of laughter. They
sang a song or two, and at twelve we left them
to their meditations, which presently reached our
ears in the sound, not shape, of “ Health to
Bacchus,” in full chorus, to which tune I said my
prayers.
Sunday, 19th.
Did not rise till late—dressed and came on
deck. The morning was brilliant; the sea, bold,
bright, dashing its snowy crests against our ship’s
sides, and flinging up a cloud of glittering spray
round the prow. I breakfasted—and then amused16
JOURNAL.
myself with finding the lessons, collects, and psalms
for the whole ship’s company. After lunch, they
spread our tent, a chair was placed for my father,
and the little bell being rung, we collected in our
rude church. It affected me much, this praying on
the lonely sea, in the words that at the same hour
were being uttered by millions of kindred tongues
in our dear home. There was something, too,
impressive and touching in this momentary union
of strangers, met but for a passing day, to part per-
haps never to behold each other’s faces again, in
the holiest of all unions, that of Christian worship.
Here I felt how close, how strong that won-
drous tie of common faith that thus gathered our
company, unknown and unconnected by any one
worldly interest or bond, to utter the same words
of praise and supplication, to think perhaps the
same thoughts of humble and trustful dependence
on God’s great goodness in this our pilgrimage to
foreign lands, to yearn perhaps with the same
affection and earnest imploring of blessings towards
our native soil and its beloved ones left behind. —
Oh, how I felt all this as we spoke aloud that touch-
ing invocation, which is always one of my most
earnest prayers, “ Almighty God, who hast pro-
mised when two or three are gathered together
in thy name,” &c. * * * The bright cloudlessJOURNAL.
17
sky and glorious sea seemed to respond, in their
silent magnificence, to our Te Deum.—I felt
more of the excitement of prayer than I have
known for many a day, and ’t was good—oh! very,
very good!	*	*	*	*
*	*	*	*	*
9 Tis good to behold this new universe, this
mighty sea which he hath made, this glorious cloud-
less sky, where hang, like dew drops, his scattered
worlds of light—to see all this and say,—
“ These are thy glorious works, parent of good ! ”
After prayers, wrote journal. Some sea weed
floated by the ship to-day, borne from the gulf
stream; I longed to have it, for it told of land:
gulls too came wheeling about, and the little pet-
terels like sea-swallows skimmed round and round,
now resting on the still bosom of the sunny sea,
now flickering away in rapid circles like black
butterflies. They got a gun, to my horror, and
wasted a deal of time in trying to shoot these
feathered mariners; but they did not even succeed
in'scaring them. We went and sat on the forecastle
to see the sun set: he did not go down cloudless,
but dusky ridges of vapour stretched into ruddy
streaks along the horizon, as his disk dipped into18
JOURNAL.
the burnished sea. The foam round the prow,
as the ship made way with all sail set before a
fair wind, was the most lovely thing I ever saw.
Purity, strength, glee, and wondrous beauty were
in those showers of snowy spray that sprang up
above the black ship’s sides, and fell like a cataract
of rubies under the red sunlight. We sat there
till evening came down; the sea, from brilliant
azure grew black as unknown things, the wind
freshened, and we left our cold stand to walk, or
rather run, up and down the deck to warm our-
selves. This we continued till, one by one, the
stars had lit their lamps in heaven: their won-
drous brilliancy, together with the Aurora Borea-
lis, which rushed like sheeted ghosts along the sky,
and the stream of fire that shone round the ship’s
way, made heaven and sea appear like one vast
world of flame, as though the thin blue veil of
air and the dark curtain of the waters were but
drawn across a universe of light. Mercy, how
strange it was! We stood at the stern, watching
the milky wake the ship left as she stole through
the eddying waters. Came back to our gipsy en-
campment, where, by the light of a lantern, we
supped and sang sundry scraps of old songs. At
ten came to bed. *	*	*	*	*JOURNAL.
19
Took an observation of the sun’s altitude at
noon, and saw them hoist a main-top-royal sail,
which looked very pretty as it was unreefed against
the clear sky.
Monday, 20th.
Calm — utter calm — a roasting August sun,
a waveless sea, the sails flapping idly against the
mast, and our black cradle rocking to and fro
without progressing a step. They lowered the
boat, and went out rowing—I wanted to go, but
they would not let me! A brig was standing some
four miles off us, which, by the by, I was the first
to see, except our mate, in my morning watch,
which began at five o’clock, when I saw the
moon set and the sun rise, and feel more than
ever convinced that absolute reality is away from
the purpose of works of art. The sky this
morning was as like the sea-shore as ever sand
and shingle were, the clouds lying along the
horizon in pale dusky yellow layers, and higher
up, floating in light brown ribbed masses, like
the sands which grow wrinkled under the eternal
smiling of the sea. Against the dim horizon, which
blended with the violet-coloured sky, the mate
then showed me, through the glass, the brig20
JOURNAL.
standing on the sea’s edge, for all the world like
one of the tiny birds who were wheeling and
chirping round our ship’s stern. I have done
more in the shape of work to-day than any
since the two first I spent on board; translated
a German fable without much trouble, read a
canto in Dante, ending with a valuation of fame.
“ O spirito gentil! ” how lived fair wisdom in your
soul — how shines she in your lays ! — Wrote
journal, walked about, worked at my cap, in
the evening danced merrily enough, quadrilles,
country dances, La Boulangere, and the monaco;
fairly danced myself tired. Came to bed. But
oh! not to sleep—mercy, what a night! The
wind blowing like mad, the sea rolling, the ship
pitching, bouncing, shuddering, and reeling, like
a thing possessed. I lay awake, listening to her
creaking and groaning, till two o’clock, when,
sick of my sleepless berth, I got up and was
going up stairs, to see, at least, how near drowning
we were, when D-----, who was lying awake too,
implored me to lie down again. I did so for the
hundred and eleventh time, complaining bitterly
that I should .be stuffed down in a loathsome berth,
cabined, cribbed, confined, while the sea was
boiling below, and the wind bellowing above
us. Lay till daylight, the gale increasingJOURNAL.
21
furiously; boxes, chairs, beds, and their contents,
wooden valuables, and human invaluables, rolling
about and clinging to one another in glorious
confusion. At about eight o’clock, a tremendous
sea took the ship in the waist, and rushing over
the deck, banged against our sky-light, and
bounced into our cabin. Three women were
immediately apparent from their respective cribs,
and poor H-------- appeared in all her lengthy
full-length, and came and took refuge with me.
As I held her in my arms, and put my cloak
round her, she shook from head to foot, poor
child !—I was not the least frightened, but rather
excited by this invasion of Dan Neptune’s; but
I wish to goodness I had been on deck.—Oh, how
I wish I had seen that spoonful of salt water flung
from the sea’s boiling bowl! I heard afterwards,
that it had nearly washed away poor Mr.—,
besides handsomely ducking and frightening our
military man. Lay all day on my back, most
wretched, the ship heaving like any earthquake;
in fact, there is something irresistibly funny in
the way in which people seem dispossessed of
their power of volition by this motion, rushing
hither and thither in all directions but the one
they purpose going, and making as many angles,
fetches, and sidelong deviations from the point22
JOURNAL.
they aim at, as if the devil had tied a string to
their legs and jerked it every now and then in
spite — by the by, not a bad illustration of our
mental and moral struggles towards their legiti-
mate aims. Another horrible night! oh horror !
Wednesday, 22d.
A fair wind—a fine day—though very, very
cold and damp. It seems, in our squall last night,
we had also a small piece of mutiny. During the
mate’s watch, and while the storm was at the
worst, the man who was steering left the helm,
and refused to obey orders; whereupon Mr.
Curtis took up a hatchet, and assured him he
would knock his brains out,—which the captain
said, had it been his watch, he should have done
on the spot, and without further warning.—We
are upon the Newfoundland banks, though not
yet on soundings. Stitched my gown — worked
at my nightcap — walked about: — Mr.----------
read Quentin Durward to us while we worked.
The extreme cold made us take refuge in our
cabin, where I sat working and singing till dinner-
time. Dined at table again; afterwards came
back to our cabin — began writing journal, and
was interrupted by hearing a bustle in the dinner-JOURNAL.
23
room. The gentlemen were all standing up, and
presently I heard Walter Scott’s name passed
round:—it made me lay down my pen. Oh! how
pleasant it sounded—that unanimous blessing of
strangers upon a great and good man, thus far
from him—from all but our own small com-
munity. The genuine and spontaneous tribute
to moral worth and mental power! Poor, poor
Sir Walter! And yet no prayer that can be
breathed to bless, no grateful and soul-felt invo-
cation can snatch him from the common doom of
earth-born flesh, or buy away one hour’s anguish
and prostration of body and spirit, before the
triumphant infirmities of our miserable nature. I
thought of Dante’s lines, that I read but a day
ago; and yet — and yet — fame is something.
His fame is good — is great — is glorious. To
be enshrined in the hearts of all virtuous and
wise men, as the friend of virtue and the teacher
of wisdom; to have freely given pleasure, hap-
piness, forgetfulness, to millions of his fellow-
creatures; to have made excellence lovely, and
enjoyment pure and salutary; to have taught
none but lessons of honour and integrity; to have
surrounded his memory, and filled the minds of
all men with images fair, and bright, and wonder-
ful, yet left around his name no halo, and in the24
JOURNAL.
hearts of others no slightest cloud to blot these
enchanting creations; to have done nothing but
good with God's good gifts—is not this fame
worth something? 'Tis worth man's love, and
God’s approval—'t is worth toiling for, living
for, and dying for. He has earned it fairly—he
is a great and good man—peace be with him in
his hour of mortal sorrow, and eternal peace
hereafter in the heaven to which he surely goes.
— They then drank Washington Irving, — a
gentle spirit, too. After working for some
time more, came on deck, where we danced
with infinite glee, disturbed only by the surpass-
ing uproar of Colonel------.
*	*	*	*	*
*	*	*	*	*
The only of our crew whom I cotton to fairly, are
the------, and that good-natured lad, Mr. —■;
though the former rather distress me by their
abundant admiration, and the latter by his
inveterate Yorkshire, and never opening his
mouth when he sings, which, as he has a very
sweet voice, is a cruel piece of selfishness, keeping
half his tones, and all his words for his own
private satisfaction.JOURNAL.
25
Thursday, 23c?.
On soundings, and nearly off them again—a
fine day; — worked at my nightcap — another,
by the by, having finished one — exemplary! —
Walked about, ate, drank, wrote journal — read
some of it to the ----, who seemed much gratified
by my doing so. I go on with Byron’s life. He
is too much of an egotist. I do not like him a
bit the better for knowing his prose mind;—far
from thinking it redeems any of the errors of his
poetical man, I think I never read any thing
professing to be a person’s undisguised feelings
and opinions with so much heartlessness — so
little goodness in it. His views of society are
like his views of human nature; or rather, by the
by, reverse the sentence, to prove the fallacy in
judgment; and though his satire is keen and
true, yet he is nothing but satirical — never,
never serious and earnest, even with himself.
Oh ! I have a horror of that sneering devil of
Goethe’s; and he seems to me to have possessed
Byron utterly. A curious thought, or rather a
fantastical shadow of a thought, occurred to me
to-day in reading a chapter in the Corinthians
about the resurrection. I mean to be buried
VOL. i.	c26
JOURNAL.
with H-----’s ring on my finger; will it be there
when I rise again ? — What a question for the
discussers of the needle’s point controversy. My
father read to us, this afternoon, part of one of
Webster’s speeches. It was very eloquent, but
yet it did not fulfil my idea of perfect oratory
—inasmuch as I thought it too pictorial: — there
was too much scenery and decoration about it, to
use the cant of my own trade; — there was too
much effect, theatrical effect in it, from which
Heaven defend me, for I do loathe it in its place,
and fifty times worse out of it. Perhaps Web-
ster’s speaking is a good sample, in its own line,
of the leaven wherewith these times are leavened.
I mean only in its defects — for its merits are
sterling, and therefore of all time.
But this oil and canvass style of thinking, writ-
ing, and speaking, is bad. I wish our age were
more sculptural in its genius—though I have not
the power in any thing to conform thereto, I have
the grace to perceive its higher excellence; yet
Milton was a sculptor, Shakspeare a painter. How
do we get through that ? — My reason for object-
ing to Webster’s style — though the tears were
in my eyes several times while my father read—
is precisely the same as my reason for not alto-
gether liking my father’s reading,—’t is slightlyJOURNAL.
27
theatrical — something too much of passion,
something too much of effect—but perhaps I am
mistaken; for I do so abhor the slightest approach
to the lamps and orange peel, that I had almost
rather hear a “ brazen candlestick turned on a
wheel,” than all the music of due emphasis and
inflection, if allied to a theatrical manner. —
Dined at table again. They abound in toasts,
and, among others, gave “ The friends we have
left, and those we are going to !” My heart
sank. I am going to no friend; and the “ stran-
ger,” with which the Americans salute wayfarers
through their land, is the only title I can claim
amongst them. After dinner, walked about —
danced—saw the sun sink in a bed of gorgeous
stormy clouds;—worked and walked till bed-
time. — I was considerably amused, and my
English blood a little roused at a very good-
natured and well-meant caution of Mr.----, to
avoid making an enemy of Colonel----. He is,
they say, a party man, having influence which
he may exert to our detriment.
Friday, 24th.
Rose late after a fair night’s sleep—came up to
the round-house. After breakfast, worked and
c 228
JOURNAL#
walked for an immense time. Read a canto in
Dante: just as I had finished it, “ A sail! a sail!”
was cried from all quarters. Remembering my
promise to dear H------, I got together my writing
materials, and scrawled her a few incoherent
lines full of my very heart. The vessel bore
rapidly down upon us, but as there was no pro-
spect of either her or our lying-to, Mr.----tied
my missive, together with one Mr.------ had just
scribbled, to a lump of lead, and presently we all
rushed on deck to see the ship pass us. She was
an English packet, from Valparaiso, bound to
London; her foremast had been carried away,
but she was going gallantly before the wind. As
she passed us, Mr.-----got up into the boat to
have a better chance of throwing. I saw him
fling powerfully, — the little packet whizzed
through the air, but the distance was impossible,
and the dark waters received it within twenty
feet of the ship, which sailed rapidly on, and
had soon left us far behind. I believe I
screamed, as the black sea closed over my poor
letter.	*	*	*	*
#	*	*	*	*
#	#	*	#	#
Came down to my cabin and cried like a wretch
—came up again, and found them all at lunch#JOURNAL,
29
Went and lay on the bowsprit, watching the
fair ship courtesying through the bright sea with
all her sail set, a gallant and graceful sight
Came in—wrote journal—translated a German
fable. Worked at my cap, while my father went
on with Webster’s speech, I am still of the same
mind about it, though some of the passages he
read to-day were finer than any I had heard
before. He gets over a shallow descent with
admirable plausibility —and yet I think I would
rather be descended from a half heathen Saxon
giant, than from William Penn himself. We
dined at table again; D--could not: she was
ill. After dinner, sat working for some time; —
I had a horrid sick headache,—walked on deck.
The wind and sea were both rising; we stood by
the side of the ship, and watched the inky waters
swelling themselves, and rolling sullenly towards
us, till they broke in silver clouds against the
ship, and sprang above her sides, covering us
with spray. The sky had grown mirk as mid-
night, and the wind that came rushing over the
sea, was hot from the south. We staid out till it
grew dark. At ten, the crazy old ship, in one of
her headlong bounces, flung my whole supper in
my lap; the wind and water were riotous; the
ship plunged and shuddered. After screwing my
c 330
JOURNAL.
courage to a game of speculation, I was obliged to
leave it, and my companions. Came down and
went to bed. — Oh horror ! loathsome life ! —
Saturday and Sunday.
Towards evening got up and came on deck: —
tremendous head wind, going off our course;
pray Heaven we don’t make an impromptu
landing on Sable Island ! Sat on the ship’s side,
watching the huge ocean gathering itself up into
pitchy mountains, and rolling its vast ridges, one
after another, against the good ship, who dipped*
and dipped, and dived down into the black chasm,
and then sprang up again, and rode over the
swelling surges like an empress. The sky was
a mass of stormy black, here and there edged
with a copper-looking cloud, and breaking in one
or two directions into pale silvery strata, that had
an unhealthy lightning look : a heavy black squall
lay ahead of us, like a dusky curtain, whence
we saw the rain, fringe-like, pouring down against
the horizon. The wind blew furiously. I got
cradled among the ropes, so as not to be pitched
off when the ship lurched, and enjoyed it all
amazingly. It was sad and solemn, and, but for
the excitement of the savage-looking waves, thatJOURNAL.
31
every now and then lifted their overwhelming
sides against us, it would have made me melan-
choly : but it stirred my spirits to ride over
these huge sea-horses, that came bounding and
bellowing round us. Remained till I was chilled
with the bitter wind, and wet through with
spray;—walked up and down the deck for some
time, — had scarce set foot within the round
house, when a sea took her in midships, and
soused the loiterers. Sat up, or rather slept
up, till ten o’clock, and then went down to bed.
I took up Pelham to-day for a second — ’tis
amazingly clever, and like the thing it means to
be, to boot. Heard something funny that I wish
to remember—at a Methodist meeting, the singer
who led the Psalm tune, finding that his
concluding word, which was Jacob, had not
syllables enough to fill up the music adequately
ended thus — Ja-a-a-a — Ja-a-a-a — fol-de-riddle
— cob ! —
Monday, 26th.
Read Byron’s life; — defend me from my
friends ! Rose tolerably late ; after breakfast, took
a walk on deck — lay and slept under our sea-
tent ; read on until lunch-time — dined on deck,
c 432
JOURNAL*
—	after dinner walked about with H----------- and
the captain; we had seated ourselves on the ship’s
side, but he being called away, we rushed off to
the forecastle to enjoy the starlight by ourselves.
We sat for a little time, but were soon found out;
Mr. — and Mr. — joined us, and we sat till
near twelve o’clock, singing and rocking under the
stars. Venus—“ The star of love, all stars above,”
—	threw a silver column down the sea, like the
younger sister of the moon’s reflection. By the
by, I saw to-day, and with delight, an American
sunset. The glorious god strode down heaven’s
hill, without a cloud to dim his downward path;
—	as his golden disk touched the panting sea, I
turned my head away, and in less than a minute
he had fallen beneath the horizon — leapt down
into the warm waves, and left one glow of amber
round half the sky; upon whose verge, where the
violet curtain of twilight came spreading down to
meet its golden fringe,
“ The maiden,
With white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the moon,”
stood, with her silver lamp in her hand, and her
pale misty robes casting their wan lustre faintlyJOURNAL.
33
around her. Oh me, how glorious it was ! how
sad, how very, very sad I was!	*
*****
*****	*
Dear, yet forbidden thoughts, that from my soul,
While shines the weary sun, with stern control
I drive away; why, when my spirits lie
Shrouded in the cold sleep of misery,
Do ye return, to mock me with false dreaming,
Where love, and all life’s happiness is beaming ?
Oh visions fair I that one by one have gone
Down, ’neath the dark horizon of my days ;
Let not your pale reflection linger on
In the bleak sky, where live no more your rays.
Night I silent nurse, that with thy solemn eyes
Hang’st o’er the rocking cradle of the world,
Oh ! be thou darker to my dreaming eyes;
Nor, in my slumbers, be the past unfurl’d.
Haunt me no more with whisperings from the dead,
The dead in heart, the chang’d, the withered:
Bring me no more sweet blossoms from my spring,
Which round my soul their early fragrance fling,
And, when the morning, with chill icy start,
Wakes me, hang blighted round my aching heart:
Oh night, and slumber, be ye visionless,
Dark as the grave, deep as forgetfulness!
*****
*****
Night, thou shalt nurse me, but be sure, good nurse,
While sitting by my bed, that thou art silent,
c 534
JOURNAL.
I will not let thee sing me to my slumbers
With the sweet lullabies of former times,
Nor tell me tales, as other gossips wont,
Of the strange fairy days, that are all gone.
Wednesday, 28th.
Skipped writing on Tuesday — so much the
better— a miserable day spent between heart-ache
and side-ache.	*	*	*
# # # *
Rose late, breakfasted with H-----, afterwards
went and sat on the forecastle, where I worked
the whole morning, woman’s work, stitching. It
was intensely hot till about two o’clock, when a
full east wind came on, which the sailors all
blessed, but which shook from its cold wings a
heavy, clammy, chilly dew, that presently pierced
all our clothes, and lay on the deck like rain.
At dinner we were very near having a scene:
the Bostonian and the Jacksonite falling out
again about the President; and a sharp, quick,
snapping conversation, which degenerated into a
snarl on one side, and a growl on the other, for
a short time rather damped the spirits of the
table. Here, at least, General Jackson seems very
unpopular, and half the company echoed in ear-JOURNAL.
35
nest what I said in jest to end the dispute, “ Oh
hang General Jackson ! ” After dinner, returned
to the forecastle with H-to see the sun set;
her brother followed us thither.	*
* * * * *
Finished my work, and then, tying on sundry veils
and handkerchiefs, danced on deck for some time;
— I then walked about with-, by the light of
the prettiest young moon imaginable. *
* * * * *
Afterwards sat working and stifling in the round-
house till near ten, and then, being no longer able
to endure the heat, came down, undressed, and sat
luxuriously on the ground in my dressing-gown
drinking lemonade. At twelve wTent to bed; the
men kept up a horrible row on deck half the
night; singing, dancing, whooping, and running
over our heads.	*	*	*
*****
The captain brought me to-day a land-swallow,
which having flown out so far, came hovering
exhausted over the ship, and suffered itself to
be caught. Poor little creature ! how very much
more I do love all things than men and women !
I felt sad to death for its weary little wings and
frightened heart, which beat against my hand, with-
out its having strength to struggle. I made a cage
c 636
JOURNAL*
in a basket for it, and gave it some seed, which
it will not eat — little carnivorous wretch ! I must
catch some flies for it.
Thursday, 29th.
My poor little bird is dead. I am sorry ! I
could mourn almost as much over the death of a
soulless animal, as I would rejoice at that of a
brute with a soul. Life is to these winged things
a pure enjoyment; and to see the rapid pinions
folded, and the bright eye filmed, conveys sadness
to the heart, for ’tis almost like looking on —
what indeed is not — utter cessation of existence.
Poor little creature ! I wished it had not died —
I would but have borne it tenderly and carefully
to shore, and given it back to the air again!
*****
I sat down stairs in my cabin all day; the
very spirit of doggerel possessed me, and I poured
forth rhymes as rapidly as possible, and they
were as bad as possible. — Wrote journal; in
looking over my papers, fell in with the Star of
Seville — some of it is very good. I’ll write an
English tragedy next. Dined at table — our
heroes have drunk wine, and are amicable. After
dinner, went on deck, and took short walk; saw aJOURNAL.
37
the sun set, which he did like a god, as he is, leav-
ing the sky like a geranium curtain, which over-
shadowed the sea with rosy light — beautiful!
Came down and sat on the floor like a Turkish
woman, stitching, singing, and talking, till mid-
night ; supped—and to bed. My appetite seems
like the Dana’ides’ tub, of credible memory.
*****
*****
Friday, 30 th.
On soundings. A fog and a calm. Sky yel-
low, sea grey, dripping, damp, dingy, dark, and
very disagreeable. Sat working, reading, and
talking in our own cabin all day. Read part of a
book called Adventures of a Younger Son. The
gentlemen amused themselves with fishing, and
brought up sundry hake and dog-fish. I ex-
amined the heart of one of the fish, and was
surprised at the long continuance of pulsation
after the cessation of existence. In the evening,
sang, talked, and played French blind man’s
buff; — sat working till near one o’clock, and
reading Moore’s Fudge Family, — which is good
fun. It’s too hard to be becalmed within thirty
hours of our destination.38
JOURNAL.
*		*	*	*
*			*	*
Why art thou weeping
Over the happy, happy dead,
Who are gone away,
From this life of clay,
From this fount of tears,
From this burthen of years,
From sin, from sorrow,
From sad “ to-morrow,”
From struggling and creeping:
Why art thou weeping,
Oh fool, for the dead ?
Why art thou weeping,
Over the steadfast faithful dead,
Who can never change,
Nor grow cold and strange,
Nor turn away,
In a single day,
From the love they bore,
And the faith they swore,
Who are true for ever,
Will slight thee never,
But love thee still,
Through good and ill,
With the constancy
Of eternity:
Why art thou weeping,
Oh fool, for the dead ?JOURNAL.
39
They are your only friends ;
For where this foul life ends,
Alone beginneth truth, and love, and faith;
All which sweet blossoms are preserved by death.
Saturday, 31 st.
Becalmed again till about two o’clock, when a
fair wind sprang up, and we set to rolling before
it like mad. How curious it is to see the ship,
like a drunken man, reel through the waters,
pursued by that shrill scold the wind. Worked
at my handkerchief, and read aloud to them
Mrs. Jameson’s book. *	*	*
*****
Set my foot half into a discussion about Portia,
but withdrew it in time. Lord bless us! what
foul nonsense people do talk, and what much
fouler nonsense it is to answer them. Got
very sick, and lay on the ground till dinner-
time ; went to table, but withdrew again while it
was yet in my power to do so gracefully. Lay on
the floor all the evening, singing for very sea-
sickness ; suddenly it occurred to me, that it was
our last Saturday night on board; whereupon I
indited a song to the tune of “ To Ladies’ eyes
around, boys”—and having duly instructed Mr.
—— how to “ speak the speech,” we went to sup-
per. Last—last—dear, dear, what is there in40
JOURNAL.
that word ! I don’t know one of this ship’s com-
pany, don’t care for some of them — I have led
a loathsome life in it for a month past, and yet
the last Saturday night seemed half sad to me.
Mr.-------sang my song and kept my secret: the
song was encored, and my father innocently
demanded the author; I gave him a tremendous
pinch, and looked very silly. Merit, like mur-
der, will out; so I fancy that when they drank
the health of the author, the whole table was
aware of the genius that sat among them. They
afterwards sang a clever parody of “To all ye
ladies now at land,” by Mr.----------, the “ canny
Scot,” who has kept himself so quiet all the way.
Came to bed at about half-past twelve; while un-
dressing, I heard the captain come down stairs
and announce that we were clear of Nantucket
shoal, and within one hundred and fifty miles of
New York, which intelligence was received with
three cheers. They continued to sing and shout
till very late.
SATURDAY NIGHT SONG.
Come fill the can again, boys,
One parting glass, one parting glass ;
Ere we shall meet again, boys,
Long years may pass, long years may pass.JOURNAL.
41
We’ll drink the gallant bark, boys,
That’s borne us through, that’s borne us through,
Bright waves and billows dark, boys,
Our ship and crew, our ship and crew.
We’ll drink those eyes that bright, boys,
With smiling ray, with smiling ray,
Have shone like stars to light, boys,
Our wat’ry way, our wat’ry way;
We’ll drink our English home, boys,
Our father land, our father land,
And the shores to which we’re come, boys,
A sister strand, a sister strand.
Sunday, September 2d.
Rose at half-past six: the sun was shining
brilliantly; woke H-------- and went on deck with
her.	The morning	was	glorious, the	sun	had
risen	two hours in	the	sky, the sea	was	cut
by a	strong breeze,	and	curled into ridges	that
came like emerald banks crowned with golden
spray round our	ship;	she	was going	through
the water at nine knots	an hour. I	sat	and
watched the line of light that lay like a fairy
road to the east—towards my country, my dear,
dear home.	*	*	*	*
*	*	*	*	*
Breakfasted	at	table	for	the	first	time	since
I’ve been on board the ship—I did hope, the42
JOURNAL.
last. After breakfast, put my things to rights,
tidied our cabin for prayers, and began look-
ing out the lessons; while doing so, the joy-
ful sound, “ Land, land! ” was heard aloft. I
rushed on deck, and between the blue waveless
sea, and the bright unclouded sky, lay the wished-
for line of darker element. ’T was Long Island:
through a glass I descried the undulations of
the coast, and even the trees that stood relieved
against the sky. Hail, strange land ! my heart
greets you coldly and sadly ! Oh, how I thought
of Columbus, as with eyes strained and on
tiptoe our water-weary passengers stood, after a
summer’s sail of thirty days, welcoming their
mother earth ! The day was heavenly, though
intensely hot, the sky utterly cloudless, and by
that same token, I do not love a cloudless sky.
They tell me that this is their American weather
almost till Christmas; that’s nice, for those who
like frying. Commend me to dear England’s
soft, rich, sad, harmonious skies and foliage—com-
mend me to the misty curtain of silver vapour
that hangs over her September woods at morning,
and shrouds them at night;—in short, I am
home-sick before touching land. After lunch,
my father read prayers to us, and that excellent
sermon of dear Mr. Thurstone’s on taking theJOURNAL.
43
sacrament. After prayers, came on deck; there
were two or three sails in sight — hailed a
schooner which passed us — bad news of the
cholera—pleasant this—walked about, collected
goods and chattels, wrote journal, spent some
time in seeing a couple of geese take a sea-
swim with strings tied to their legs. After din-
ner, sat in my cabin some time—walked on
deck; when the gentlemen joined us we danced
the sun down, and the moon up. The sky was
like the jewel-shop of angels; I never saw such
brilliant stars nor so deep an azure to hang
them in. The moon was grown powerful, and
flooded the deck, where we sat playing at blind
man’s buff, magic music, and singing, and talking
of shore till midnight, when we came to bed. I
must not forget how happy an omen greeted us
this morning. As we stood watching the “ dolce
color di oriental zaffiro” one of the wild wood
pigeons of America flew round our mizen-mast,
and alighted on the top-sail yard;—this was the
first living creature which welcomed us to the
New World, and it pleased my superstitious
fancy. I would have given any thing to have
caught the bird, but after resting itself awhile,
it took flight again and left us. We were talking
to-day to one of our steerage passengers, a Hud-44
JOURNAL.
dersfield manufacturer, going out in quest of a
living, with five children of his own to take care
of, and two nephews. The father of the latter,
said our Yorkshireman, having married a second
time, and these poor children being as it were
“ thristen (thrust) out into the world loike—whoy
oi jist took care of them.” Verily, verily, he
will have his reward—these tender mercies of
the poor to one another are beautiful, and most
touching.
Monday, September 3d.
I had desired the mate to call me by sunrise,
and accordingly, in the midst of a very sound and
satisfactory sleep, Mr, Curtis shook me roughly by
the arm, informing me that the sun was just about
to rise. The glorious god was quicker at his
toilet than I at mine; for though I did but put on
a dressing-gown and cloak, I found him come out
of his eastern chamber, arrayed like a bridegroom,
without a single beam missing. I called H------,
and we remained on deck watching the clouds like
visions of brightness and beauty, enchanted crea-
tions of some strange spell-land—at every moment
assuming more fantastic shapes and gorgeous tints.
Dark rocks seemed to rise, with dazzling sum-JOURNAL.
45
mits of light, pale lakes of purest blue spread
here and there between—the sun now shining
through a white wreath of floating silver, now
firing, with a splendour that the eye shrank from,
the edges of some black cloudy mass. Oh, it
was surpassing! — We were becalmed, however,
which rather damped all our spirits, and half
made the captain swear. Towards mid-day we
had to thank Heaven for an incident. A brig had
been standing aft against the horizon for some
hours past, and we presently descried a boat
rowing from her towards us. The distance was
some five miles, the sun broiling, we telescoped
and stood on tiptoe, they rowed stoutly, and in
due time boarded us. She was an English brig
from Bristol, had been out eleven weeks, distressed
by contrary winds, and was in want of provisions.
The boat’s crew was presently surrounded, grog
was given the men, porter to the captain and
his companion. Our dear captain supplied them
with every thing they wanted, and our poor steer-
age passengers sent their mite to the distressed
crew in the shape of a sack of potatoes; they
remained half an hour on board, we clustering
round them, questioning and answering might
and main. As H-------said, they were new faces
at least, and though two of the most ill-favoured46
JOURNAL.
physiognomies I ever set eyes on, there was some-
thing refreshing even in their ugly novelty. After
this the whole day was one of continual excitement,
nearing the various points of land, greeting ves-
sels passing us, and watching those bound on the
same course. At about four o’clock a schooner
came alongside with a news collector; he was half
devoured with queries; news of the cholera, re-
ports of the tariff and bank questions were loudly
demanded:	poor people, how anxiously they
looked for replies to the first! Mr.------, upon
whose arm I leant, turned pale as death while
asking how it had visited Boston. Poor fellow !
poor people all! my heart ached with their anxiety.
As the evening darkened, the horizon became
studded with sails; at about eight o’clock we
discovered the Highlands of Neversink, the en-
trance to New York harbour, and presently the
twin lights of Sandy Hook glimmered against
the sky. We were all in high spirits, a fresh
breeze had sprung up, we were making rapidly to
land; the lovely ship, with all sail set, courtesying
along the smooth waters. The captain alone
seemed anxious, and was eagerly looking out for
the pilot. Some had gathered to the ship’s side,
to watch the progress of Colonel ------, who had
left us and gone into the news-boat, which wasJOURNAL.
47
dancing like a fairy by the side of our dark vessel.
Cheering resounded on all sides, rockets were
fired from the ship’s stern, we were all dancing,
when suddenly a cry was echoed round of “ A
pilot, a pilot!” and close under the ship’s side
a light graceful little schooner shot like an arrow
through the dim twilight, followed by a universal
huzza; she tacked, and lay to, but proved only a
news-boat:	while, however, all were gathered
round the collector, the pilot-boat came alongside,
and the pilot on board; the captain gave up the
cares and glories of command, and we danced an
interminable country dance. All was excitement
and joyous confusion; poor Mr.------alone seemed
smitten with sudden anxiety; the cholera reports
had filled him with alarm, lest his agent should
have died, and his affairs on his arrival be in
confusion and ruin—poor fellow ! I was very sorry
for him. We went down to supper at ten, and
were very merry, in spite of the ship’s bumping
twice or thrice upon the sands. Came up and
dawdled upon deck—saw them cast anchor; away
went the chain, down dropped the heavy stay, the
fair ship swung round, and there lay new York
before us, with its clustered lights shining like
a distant constellation against the dark outline of
land. Remained on deck till very late—were48
JOURNAL.
going to bed, when the gentlemen entreated us to
join their party once more; we did so, sang all the
old songs, laughed at all the old jokes, drank our
own and each other’s health, wealth, and pro-
sperity, and came to bed at two o’clock. Our cradle
rocks no longer, but lies still on the still waters;
we have reached our destination; thank God! I
did so with all my soul.
Tuesday, September 4th,
New York, America.
It is true, by my faith! it is true; there it is
written, here I sit, I am myself and no other,
this is New York and nowhere else — Oh ! “sin-
gular, strange !” Our passengers were all stirring
and about at peep of day, and I got up myself at
half past six. Trunks lay scattered in every
direction around, and all were busily preparing to
leave the good ship Pacific. Mercy on us !
it made me sad to leave her and my shipmates.
I feel like a wretch swept down a river to the
open sea, and catch at the last boughs that hang
over the banks to stay me from that wide loneli-
ness. The morning was real Manchester. I be-
lieve some of the passengers had brought the fog
and rain in their English clothes, which theyJOURNAL.
49
were all putting on, together with best hats,
dandy cravats, &c.—to make a sensation. A fog
hung over the shores of Staten Island and Long
Island, in spite of which, and a dreary, heavy,
thick rain, I thought the hilly outline of the for-
mer very beautiful; the trees and grass were
rather sunburnt, but in a fair spring day I should
think it must be lovely. We breakfasted, and
packed ourselves into our shawls and bonnets,
and at half-past nine the steam-boat came along-
side to take us to shore: it was different from
any English steam-boat I ever saw, having three
decks, and being consequently a vessel of very
considerable size. We got on board her all in
the rain and misery, and as we drifted on, our
passengers collected to the side of the boat and
gave “ The dear old Lady” three cheers. Poor
ship ! there she lay—all sails reefed, rocking in
melancholy inaction, deserted by her merry in-
mates, lonely and idle—poor Pacific ! I should
like to return in that ship; I would willingly skip
a passage in order to do so. All were looking at
the shores; some wondering and admiring, others
recognising through the rain and mist, as best
they might; I could not endure to lift my eyes
to the strange land, and even had I done so, was
crying too bitterly to see any thing. Mr. ----------
VOL. I.	D50
JOURNAL.
and Mr.------went to secure apartments for us
at the American Hotel; and after bidding good-
by to the sea, we packed ourselves into a hack-
ney coaeh, and progressed. The houses are al-
most all painted glaring white or red; the other
favourite colours appear to be pale straw colour
and grey. They have all green Venetian shutters,
which give an idea of coolness, and almost every
house has a tree or trees in its vicinity, which
looks pretty and garden-like. We reached our
inn,—the gentlemen were waiting for us, and led
us to our drawing-room. I had been choking for
the last three hours, and could endure no more,
but sobbed like a wretch aloud. #	*
* * * # *
There was a piano in the room, to which I flew
with the appetite of one who has lived on the
music of the speaking-trumpet for a month; that,
and some iced lemonade and cake, presently re-
stored my spirits. I went on playing and sing-
ing till I was exhausted, and then sat down and
wrote journal. Mr. ------ went out and got me
Sir Humphry Davy's Salmonia, which I had been
desiring, and he had been speaking of on board
ship.
At five o’clock we all met once more together
to dinner. Our drawing-room being large andJOURNAL.
51
pleasant, the table was laid in it. ,T is curious
how an acquaintanceship of thirty days has con-
trived to bind together in one common feeling
of kindness and good-fellowship persons who never
met before, who may never meet again. To-
morrow we all separate to betake ourselves each
to our several path; and as if loath to part
company, they all agreed to meet once more on
the eve of doing so, probably for ever. How
strongly this clinging principle is inherent in our
nature^! These men have no fine sympathies of
artificial creation, and this exhibition of adhe-
siveness is in them a real and heart-sprung feel-
ing. It touched me—indeed it may well do so;
for friends of thirty days are better than utter
strangers, and when these my shipmates shall be
scattered abroad, there will be no human being
left near us whose face we know, or whose voice
is familiar to us. Our dinner was a favourable
specimen of eating as practised in this new
world; every thing good, only in too great a
profusion, the wine drinkable, and the fruit
beautiful to look at: in point of flavour it was
infinitely inferior to English hothouse fruit, or
even fine espalier fruit raised in a good aspect.
Every thing was wrapped in ice, which is a most
luxurious necessary in this hot climate; but the
d 252
JOURNAL.
things were put on the table in a slovenly, out-
landish fashion; fish, soup, and meat, at once,
and puddings, and tarts, and cheese, at another
once; no finger glasses, and a patched table-
cloth,—in short, a want of that style and neat-
ness which is found in every hotel in England.
The waiters, too, reminded us of the half-savage
Highland lads that used to torment us under that
denomination in Glasgow — only that they were
wild Irish instead of wild Scotch. The day had
cleared, and become intensely hot, towards even-
ing softening and cooling under the serene in-
fluences of the loveliest moon imaginable. The
streets were brilliantly lighted, the shops through
the trees, and the people parading between them,
reminded me very much of the Boulevards. We
left the gentlemen, and went down stairs, where
I played and sang for three hours. On opening
the door, I found a junta of men sitting on the
hall floor, round it, and smoking. Came up for
coffee; most of the gentlemen were rather elated,
— we sang, and danced, and talked, and seemed
exceeding loath to say good-by. I sat listening
to the dear Doctor’s theory of the nature of
the soul, which savoured infinitely more of the
spirituality of the bottle than of immaterial exist-
ences. I heard him descant very tipsily uponJOURNAL.
53
the vital principle, until my fatigue getting fairly
the better of my affection for him, I bade our
remaining guests good night, and came to bed.
Wednesday, 5th.
1 have been in a sulky fit half the day, because
people will keep walking in and out of our room,
without leave or licence, which is coming a great
deal too soon to Hope’s idea of Heaven. I am
delighted to see my friends, but I like to tell them
so, and not that they should take it for granted.
When I made my appearance in my dressing
gown, (my clothes not being come, and the day
too hot for a silk pelisse,) great was my amazement
to find our whole ship’s company assembled at the
table. After breakfast they dispersed, and I sat
writing journal, and playing, and singing. Colo-
nel ----- and Mr. ------ called. Our Boston
friends leave us to-day for their homes. I am
sorry to lose them, though I think H---will be
the better for rest. Mrs.--called to see D----
to-day. I remember her name, as one of the first
things I do remember. A visit from a Mr.------,
one of the directors of the Custom-House, and
W------P------, brother to the proprietor of the
Park theatre, who is a lawyer of considerable re*
d 354
JOURNAL.
putation here. The face of the first was good, the
other’s clever. I said nothing, as usual, and let
them depart in peace. We dined at half-past two,
with the H--------s and Mr.--------. At half-past
three we walked down to the quay to convoy them
to their steamboat, which looked indeed like a
“ castle on the main.” We saw them on board,
went down and looked at the state cabin, which
was a magnificent room, and would have done
charmingly for a galoppade. We bade our new
friends, whom I like better than some old ones,
good-by, and walked briskly on to the battery, to
see them as they passed it. The sun was intensely
hot; and as I struggled forward, hooked up to this
young Sheffield giant, I thought we were the liv-
ing illustration of Hood’s “ Long and Short” of
it. We gained the battery, and saw the steam-boat
round; our travellers kept the deck with “ hat
and glove and handkerchief,” as long as we could
see them. This battery is a beautiful marine pa-
rade, commanding the harbour and entrance of
the bay, with Governor’s Island, and its dusky red
fort, and the woody shores of New Jersey and
Long Island. A sort of public promenade, formed
of grass plots, planted with a variety of trees,
affords a very agreeable position from whence to
enjoy the lovely view. My companion informedJOURNAL.
55
me that this was a fashionable resort some time
ago; but owing to its being frequented by the
lowest and dirtiest of the rabble, who in this land
of liberty roll themselves on the grass, and other-
wise annoy the more respectable portion of the
promenaders, it has been much deserted lately,
and is now only traversed by the higher classes as
a thoroughfare. The trees and grass were vividly
and luxuriantly green; but the latter grew rank
and long, unshorn and untidy. “ Oh,” thought I,
“ for a pair of English shears, to make these green
carpets as smooth and soft and thick as the close
piled Genoa velvet.” It looked neglected and
slovenly. Came home up Broadway, which is a
long street of tolerable width, full of shops, in
short the American Oxford Road, where all people
go to exhibit themselves and examine others. The
women that I have seen hitherto have all been
very gaily dressed, with a pretension to French
style, and a more than English exaggeration of it.
They all appear to me to walk with a French
shuffle, which, as their pavements are flat, I can
only account for by their wearing shoes made in
the French fashion, which are enough in them-
selves to make a waddler of the best walker that
ever set foot to earth. Two or three were pretty
girls; but the town being quite empty, these are
d 456
JOURNAL.
probably bad specimens of the graces and charms
that adorn Broadway in its season of shining.
Came home and had tea; after which my father,
I, and Mr.------crossed the Park (a small bit of
grass enclosed in white palings, in plain English,
a green) to the theatre. Wallack was to act in
the Rent Day. Mercy, how strange I felt as I
once more set foot in a theatre; the sound of the
applause set my teeth on edge. The house is
pretty though rather gloomy, well formed, about
the size of the Haymarket, with plenty of gold
carving, and red silk about it, looking rich and
warm. The audience was considerable, but all
men; scarce, I should think, twenty women in the
dress circle, where, by the by, as well as in the
private boxes, I saw men sitting with their hats
on. The Rent Day is a thorough melodrama,
only the German monster has put on a red waist-
coat and top boots. Nathless this is a good thing
of a bad sort: the incidents, though not all pro-
bable, or even as skilfully tacked together as they
might be, are striking and dramatically effective,
and the whole piece turns on those home feelings,
those bitterest realities of every-day life, that wring
one’s heart, beyond the pain that one allows works
of fiction to excite. As for the imitation of Wil-
kie’s pictures, the first was very pretty, but theJOURNAL.
57
second I did not see, my face being buried in my
handkerchief, besides having a quarter less seven
fathom of tears over it, at the time. I cried most
bitterly during the whole piece; for as in his very
first scene Wallack asks his, wife if she will go with
him to America, and she replies, “ What! leave
the farm ?” I set off from thence and ceased no
more. The manager’s wife and another woman
were in the box, which was his, and I thought we
should have carried away the front of it with our
tears. Wallack played admirably: I had never
seen him before, and was greatly delighted with
his acting. I thought him handsome of a rustic
kind, the very thing for the part he played, a fine
English yeoman: he reminded me of-------. At
the end of the play, came home with a tremendous
headache: sat gossiping and drinking lemonade.
Presently a tap at the door came, and through the
door came Mr.------. I shook hands with him,
and began expatiating on the impertinence of
people’s not enquiring down stairs whether we
were at home or not before they came up — I
don’t believe he took my idea. Mr.----came in
to bid us good-by: he starts to-morrow for Balti-
more. He is a nice, good-tempered young Irish-
man, with more tongue than brains, but still clever
enough: I am sorry he is going. Came to bed-
d 558
JOURNAL.
room at eleven, remained up till one, unpacking
goods and chattels. Mercy on me, what a cargo
it is ! They have treated us like ambassadors,
and not one of our one and twenty huge boxes
have been touched.
Thursday, 6th.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, began writing
to my brother; while doing so they brought
up Captain -------’s and Mr. --------’s cards. I
was delighted to see our dear Captain again,
who, in spite of his glorious slip-slop, is a glo-
rious fellow. They sat some time. Colonel----------
called, — he walks my father off his legs. When
they were all gone, finished letter and wrote
journal. Unpacked and sorted things. Opened
with a trembling heart my bonnet box, and found
my precious Devy squeezed to a crush — I pulled
it out, rebowed, and reblonded, and reflowered it,
and now it looks good enough “ pour les thauv-
ages mamfMle Fannie.” Worked at my muslin
gown; in short, did a deal. A cheating German
woman came here this morning with some be-
witching canezous and pelerines: I chose two that
I wanted, and one very pretty one that I didn’t;
but as she asked a heathen price for ’em, I tookJOURNAL.
59
only the former; — dear good little me!# We
dined at five. After dinner, sang and played
to my father, “all by the light of the moon.”
The evening was, as the day had been, lovely;
and as I stood by his side near the open window,
and saw him inhaling the pure fresh air, which he
said invigorated and revived him, and heard him
exclaim upon the beauty of our surroundings, half
of my regret for this exile melted away. *
#	#	*	*	*
#	#	#	#	#
He said to me, “ Is there not reason to be grate-
ful to God, when we look at these fair things ? ” —
and indeed, indeed, there is: yet these things are
not to me what they were. He told me that he had
begun a song on board ship for the last Saturday
night, but that not feeling well he had given it up,
but the very same ideas I had made use of had
occurred to him.	*	*	*
*****
* I do not know how it is to be accounted for, but in spite
of much lighter duties, every article of dress, particularly
silks, embroideries, and all French manufactures, are more
expensive here than in England. The extravagance of the
American women in this part of their expenditure is, con-
sidering the average fortunes of this country, quite extraor-
dinary. They never walk in the streets but in the most
showy and extreme toilette, and I have known twenty, forty,
and sixty dollars paid for a bonnet to wear in a morning
saunter up Broadway.
D 660
JOURNAL.
This is not surprising; the ideas were so ob-
vious that there was no escaping them. My
father is ten years younger since he came here,
already. #	*	*	#	*
*****
Colonel---came in after tea, and took my
father off to the Bowery theatre. I remained
with D----singing, and stitching, and gossip-
ing till twelve o’clock. My father has been in-
troduced to half the town, and tells me that far
from the democratic Mister, which he expected
to be every man’s title here, he had made the
acquaintance of a score of municipal dignitaries,
and some sixty colonels and major-generals — of
militia. Their omnibuses are vehicles of rank,
and the Ladies Washington, Clinton, and Van
Rensalear rattle their crazy bones along the
pavement for all the world like any other old
women of quality.
These democrats are as title-sick as a banker’s
wife in England. My father told me to-day, that
Mr.----, talking about the state of the country,
spoke of the lower orders finding their level:
now this enchants me, because a republic is a
natural anomaly; there is nothing republican in
the construction of the material universe; there
* These are the titles of three omnibuses which run up
and down Broadway all the day long.JOURNAL.
61
be highlands and lowlands, lordly mountains as
barren as any aristocracy, and lowly valleys as
productive as any labouring classes. The feeling
of rank, of inequality, is inherent in us, a part of
the veneration of our natures; and like most of
our properties seldom finds its right channels —
in place of which it has created artificial ones
suited to the frame of society into which the civil-
ised world has formed itself. I believe in my
heart that a republic is the noblest, highest, and
purest form of government; but I believe that
according to the present disposition of human
creatures, ’t is a mere beau ideal, totally incapable
of realisation. What the world may be fit for six
hundred years hence, I cannot exactly perceive ;
but in the mean time, ’t is my conviction that Ame-
rica will be a monarchy before I am a skeleton.
One of the curses of living at an inn in this un-
ceremonious land:—Dr.---------walked in this even-
ing accompanied by a gentleman, whom he forth-
with introduced to us. I behaved very ill, as I
always do on these occasions; but’t is an imper-
tinence, and I shall take good care to certify such to
be my opinion of these free and easy proceedings.
The man had a silly manner, but he may be a
genius for all that. He abused General Jackson,
and said the cholera was owing to his presidency; for
that Clay had predicted, that when he came intQ62
JOURNAL.
power, battle, pestilence, and famine, would come
upon the land: which prophecy finds its accomplish-
ment thus: they have had a war with the In-
dians, the cholera has raged, and the people, fly-
ing from the infected cities to the country, have
eaten half the farmers out of house and home.
This hotel reminds me most extremely of our
“ iligant ” and untidy apartments in dear, nasty
Dublin, at the Shelbourne. The paper in our
bed-room is half peeling from the walls, our beds
are without curtains, then to be sure there are
pier looking-glasses, and one or two pieces of
showy French furniture in it. ’T is customary,
too, here, I find, for men to sleep three or four in
a room; conceive an Englishman shown into a
dormitory for half-a-dozen; I can’t think how
they endure it; but, however, I have a fever at
all those things. My father asked me, this even-
ing, to write a sonnet about the wild pigeons
welcoming us to America; I had thought of it
with scribbling intent before, but he wants me
to get it up here, and that sickened me.
Friday) 7th.
Rose at eight: after breakfast tidied my dress-
ing-box, mended and tucked my white muslin
gown — wrote journal: while doing so, ColonelJOURNAL.
63
«----came to take leave of us for a few days; he is
going to join his wife in the country. Mr.------
called and remained some time; while he was
here, the waiter brought me word that a Mr.-----
wanted to see me. I sent word down that my
father was out, knowing no such person, and sup-
posing the waiter had mistaken whom he asked
for; but the gentleman persisted in seeing me, and
presently in walked a good-looking elderly man,
who introduced himself as Mr.------, to whom my
father had letters of introduction. He sat himself
down, and pottered a little, and then went away.
When he was gone, Mr.---------informed me that
this was one of the men of New York, in point of
wealth, influence, and consideration. He had
been a great auctioneer, but had retired from
business, having, among his other honours, filled
the office of Mayor of New York. My father and
Mr.-------went to put our letters in the post: I
practised and needle-worked till dinner-time;
after dinner, as I stood at the window looking at
the lovely sky, and the brilliant earth, a curious
effect of light struck me. Within a hundred yards
of each other, the Town Hall lay, with its white
walls glowing in the sunset, while the tall grey
church-steeple was turning pale in the clear moon-
light. That Town Hall is a white-washed anomaly,64
JOURNAL.
and yet its effect is not altogether bad. I took a
bath at the house behind it, which is very con-
veniently arranged for that purpose, with a French
sort of gallery, all papered with the story of
Psyche in lead-coloured paper, that reminded me
of the doughy immortals I used to admire so much,
at the inns at Abbeville and Montreuil. The
house was kept by a foreigner — I knew it. My
father proposed to us a walk, and we accordingly
sallied forth. We walked to the end of Broadway,
a distance of two miles, I should think, and then
back again. The evening was most lovely. The
moon was lighting the whole upper sky, but every
now and then, as we crossed the streets that led
to the river, we caught glimpses of the water, and
woody banks, and the sky that hung over them;
which all were of that deep orange tint, that I
never saw, but in Claude’s pictures. After walk-
ing nearly a mile up Broadway, we came to Canal
Street: it is broader and finer than any I have yet
seen in New York; and at one end of it, a Chris-
tian church, copied from some Pagan temple or
other, looked exceedingly well, in the full flood of
silver light that streamed from heaven. There
were many temptations to look around, but the
flags were so horribly broken and out of order,JOURNAL.
65
that to do so was to run the risk of breaking one’s
neck: — this is very bad.* The street was very
much thronged, and I thought the crowd a more
civil and orderly one, than an English crowd.
The men did not jostle or push one another, or
tread upon one’s feet, or kick down one’s shoe
heels, or crush one’s bonnet into one’s face, or
turn it round upon one’s head, all which I have
seen done in London streets. There is this to be
said: this crowd was abroad merely for pleasure,
sauntering along, which is a thing never seen in
London; the proportion of idle loungers who fre-
quent the streets there being very inconsiderable,
when compared with the number of people going
on business through the town. I observed that
the young men to-night invariably made room for
women to pass, and many of them, as they drew
near us, took the segar from their mouth, which I
thought especially courteous, f They were all
* The New Yorkers have begun to see the evil of their
ways, as far as regards their carriage-road in Broadway; —
which is now partly Macadamised. It is devoutly to be
hoped, that the worthy authorities will soon have as much
compassion on the feet of their fellow-citizens, as they have
begun to have for their brutes.
j* The roughness and want of refinement, which is legiti-
mately complained of in this country is often however miti-
gated by instances of civility, which would not be found
commonly elsewhere. As I have noticed above, the demean-66
JOURNAL.
smoking, to a man, except those who were spitting,
which helped to remind me of Paris, to which the
whole place bore a slight resemblance. The shops
appear to me to make no show whatever, and will
not bear a comparison with the brilliant display of
the Parisian streets, or the rich magnificence of
our own, in that respect. The women dress very
much, and very much like French women gone
mad; they all of them seem to me to walk horribly
ill, as if they wore tight shoes. Came in rather
tired, took tea, sang an immensity, wrote journal,
looked at the peerless moon, and now will go to
bed.
Saturday, 8th.
Stitching the whole blessed day; and as I have
now no maid to look after them, my clothes run
some chance of being decently taken care of, and
kept in order. Mr.-------and his daughter called;
our of men towards women in the streets is infinitely more
courteous here than with us; women can walk, too, with
perfect safety, by themselves, either in New York, Philadel-
phia, or Boston: on board the steam-boats no person sits
down to table until the ladies are accommodated with seats;
and I have myself in church benefited by the civility of men
who have left their pew, and stood, during the whole service,
in order to afford me room.JOURNAL.
67
I like him; he appears very intelligent; and the
expression of his countenance is clever and agree-
able. His daughter was dressed up in French
clothes, and looked very stiff; but, however, a
first visit is an awkward thing, and nothing that
isn’t thorough-bred ever does it quite well. When
they were gone, Mr.---------called. By the by, of
Mr--------, while he was speaking, he came to the
word calculate,, and stopping half way, substituted
another for it, which made me laugh internally.
Mercy on me ! how sore all these people are about
Mrs. Trollope’s book, and how glad I am I did
not read it. She must have spoken the truth
though, for lies do not rankle so.
“ Qui ne nous touche point, ne nous fait pas rougir.”
Worked till dinner-time. ---------dined with us:
what a handsome man he is; but oh, what a with-
in and without actor. I wonder whether I carry
such a brand in every limb and look of me; if I
thought so, I’d strangle myself. An actor shall be
self-convicted in five hundred. There is a cease-
less striving at effect, a straining after points in
talking, and a lamp and orange-peel twist in every
action. How odious it is to me ! Absolute and
unmitigated vulgarity I can put up with, and
welcome; but good Heaven defend me from the68
JOURNAL.
genteel version of vulgarity, to see which in per-
fection, a country actor, particularly if he is also
manager, and sees occasionally people who be-
speak plays, is your best occasion. My dear
father, who was a little elated, made me sing to
him, which I greatly gulped at. When he was
gone, went on playing and singing. Wrote jour-
nal, and now to bed. I’m dead of the sideache.#
Sunday, 9th.
Rose at eight. While I was dressing, D---------
went out of the room, and presently I heard
sundry exclamations :	66 Good God, is it you !
How are you ? How have you been ?” I opened
the door, and saw my uncle. *	*
After breakfast, went to church with my father:
on our way thitherward, met the Doctor, and the
Doctor’s friend, and Mr.-------, to whom I have
taken an especial fancy. The church we went to
* Saw a woman riding to-day; but she has gotten a black
velvet beret upon her head. — Only think of a beret on horse-
back ! The horses here are none of them properly broken :
their usual pace being a wrong-legged half-canter, or a species
of shambling trot, denominated, with infinite justice, a rack.
They are all broken with snaffles instead of curbs, carry their
noses out, and pull horribly; I have not yet seen a decei *
rider, either man or woman.JOURNAL.
69
is situated half way between the Battery and our
hotel. It is like a chapel in the exterior, being
quite plain, and standing close in among the
houses; the interior was large and perfectly
simple. The town is filling, and the church was
well attended. ’Tis long since I have heard the
church service so well read; with so few vices of
pronunciation, or vulgarisms of emphasis. Our
own clergy are shamefully negligent in this point;
and if Chesterfield’s maxim be a good one in all
cases, which it is, surely in the matter of the
service of God’s house’t is doubly so; they lose
an immense advantage, too, by their slovenly and
careless way of delivering the prayers, which
are in themselves so beautiful, so eloquent, so full
of the very spirit of devotion ; that whereas, now, a
congregation seems but to follow their leader, in
gabbling them over as they do; were they so-
lemnly, devoutly, and impressively read, many
would feel and understand, what they now repeat
mechanically, without attaching one idea to the
words they utter. There was no clerk to assist
in the service, and the congregation were as neg-
lectful of the directions in the prayer-book, and as
indolent and remiss in uttering the responses, as
they are in our own churches ; indeed, the absence
of the clerk made the inaudibility of the congre-70
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gation’s portion of the service more palpable than
it is with us. The organ and chanting were very
good; infinitely superior to the performances of
those blessed little parish cherubim, who mono-
polise the praises of God in our churches, so
much to the suffering of all good Christians not
favoured with deafness. The service is a little
altered — all prayers for our King, Queen, House
of Lords, Parliament, &c., of course omitted: in
lieu of which, they pray for the President and all
existing authorities. Sundry repetitions of the
Lord’s Prayer, and other passages, were left out;
they correct our English, too, substituting the
more modern phraseology of those, for the dear
old-fashioned them, which our prayer-book uses:
as, “ spare thou those9 O God,” instead of “ spare
thou them, O God, which confess their faults.”
Wherever the word wealth occurs, too, these
zealous purists, connecting that word with no idea
but dollars and cents, have replaced it by a term
more acceptable to their comprehension, — pros-
perity,— therefore they say, In all time of our
prosperity, (/. e. wealth,) in all time of our tribu-
lation,” &c. I wonder how these gentlemen
interpret the word commonwealth, or whether,
in the course of their reading, they ever met with
the word deprived of the final th; and if so, whatJOURNAL.
71
they imagined it meant.* Our prayers were de-
sired for some one putting out to sea; and a very
touching supplication to that effect was read, in
which I joined with all my heart. The sermon
would have been good, if it had been squeezed
into half the compass it occupied; it was upon the
subject of the late terrible visitations with which
God has tried the world, and was sensibly and
well delivered, only it had “ damnable iteration.”
The day was like an oven; after church, came
home. Mr. ---------- called, also Mr. -------, the
Boston manager, who is longer than any human
being I ever saw. Presently after, a visit from
“ his honour the Recorder,” a twaddling old
lawyer by the name of--------, and a silent young
gentleman, his son. They were very droll. The
lawyer talked the most; at every half sentence,
however, quoting, complimenting, or appealing to
“ his honour the Recorder,” a little, good-tem-
pered, turnippy-looking man, who called me a
female; and who, the other assured me, was the
* The spirit of independence, which is the common atmo-
spheric air of America, penetrates into the churches, as well
as elsewhere. In Boston, I have heard the Apostles* creed
mutilated and altered; once by the omission of the passage
“ descended into hell,” and another time, by the substitu-
tion of the words “ descended into the place of departed
spirits.”72
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Chesteyjieldian of New York (I don’t know pre-
cisely what that means): what fun ! Again I
had an opportunity of perceiving how thorough a
chimera the equality is, that we talk of as Ameri-
can. “ There’s no such thing,” with a vengeance!
Here they were, talking of their aristocracy and
democracy; and I’m sure, if nothing else bore
testimony to the inherent love of higher things
which I believe exists in every human creature,
the way in which the lawyer dwelt upon the Duke
of Montrose, to whom, in Scotch kindred, he is
allied at the distance of some miles, and Lady
Loughborough, whom Heaven knows how he got
hold of, would have satisfied me, that a my Lord,
or my Lady, are just as precious in the eyes of
these levellers, as in those of Lord and Lady-
loving John Bull himself. They staid pottering a
longtime. One thing his “ honour the Recorder”
told me, which I wish to remember: that the
only way of preserving universal suffrage from
becoming the worst of abuses, was of course to edu-
cate the people*, for which purpose a provision is
* Unfortunately, this precaution does not fulfil its pur-
pose ; universal suffrage is a political fallacy: and will be one
of the stumbling-blocks in the path of this country’s great-
ness. I do not mean that it will lessen her wealth, or injure
her commercial and financial resources; but it will be an in-JOURNAL.
73
made by government; thus: a grant of land is given,
the revenue of which being estimated, the popula-
tion of the State are taxed to precisely the same
amount; thus furnishing, between the government
and the people, an equal sum for the education of all
classes.* * I do nothing but look out of window
all the blessed day long: I did not think in my
old age to acquire so Jezebel a trick; but the park
(as they entitle the green opposite our windows)
is so very pretty, and the streets so gay, with
their throngs of smartly dressed women, and so
amusing with their abundant proportion of black
superable bar to the progress of mental and intellectual cul-
tivation — ’t is a plain case of action and re-action. If the
mass, *. e. the inferior portion, (for when was the mass not
inferior ?) elect their own governors, they will of course
elect an inferior class of governors, and the government of
such men will be an inferior government; that it may be
just, honest, and rational, I do not dispute; but that it ever
will be enlarged, liberal, and highly enlightened, I do not, and
cannot, believe.
* I do not know, whether his honour the Recorder’s in-
formation applied only to the state of New York, or included
all the others ,* ’t is not one of the least strange features,
which this strange political process, the American govern-
ment, presents, that each state is governed by its own laws;
thus forming a most involved and complicated whole, where
each part has its own individual machinery; or, to use a
more celestial phraseology, its own particular system.
VOL. I.
£74
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and white caricatures, that I find my window the
most entertaining station in the world. Read
Salmonia: the natural-history part of it is curi-
ous and interesting; but the local descriptions
are beyond measure tantalising; and the “ bites,”
five thousand times more so. Our ship-mate,
Mr.-------, called : I was glad to see him. Poor
man ! how we did reel him off his legs to be
sure, — what fun it was ! My father dined out:
D------ and I dined tete-a-tete.	Poor D---------
has not been well to-day: she is dreadfully bitten
by the musquitoes, which, I thank their discrim-
ination, have a thorough contempt for me, and
have not come near me: the only things that bother
me are little black ants, which I find in my wash-
hand basin, and running about in all directions. I
think the quantity of fruit brings them into the
houses. After dinner, sat looking at the blacks pa-
rading up and down ; most of them in the height of
the fashion, with every colour in the rainbow about
t hem. Several of the black women I saw pass
had very fine figures; (the women here appear to
me to be remarkably small, my own being, I
should think, the average height;) but the con-
trast of a bright blue, or pink crape bonnet, with
the black face, white teeth, and glaring blue
whites of the eyes, is beyond description gro-JOURNAL.
15
tesque. The carriages here are all, to my taste,
very ugly; hung very high from the ground, and
of all manner of ungainly, old-fashioned shapes.
Now this is where, I think, the Americans are to
be quarrelled with: they are beginning at a time
when all other nations are arrived at the highest
point of perfection, in all matters conducive to
the comfort and elegance of life: they go into
these countries; into France, into our own dear
little snuggery, from whence they might bring
models of whatever was most excellent, and give
them to their own manufacturers, to imitate or
improve upon. When I see these awkward, un-
comfortable vehicles swinging through the streets,
and think of the beauty, the comfort, the strength,
and lightness of our English-built carriages and
cabs, I am much surprised at the want of emu-
lation and enterprise, which can be satisfied with
inferiority, when equality, if not superiority, would
be so easy.* At seven o’clock, D---------- and I
* Whoever pretends to write any account of “ Men and
Manners” in America must expect to find his own work
give him the lie in less than six months; for both men and
manners are in so rapid a state of progress that no record of
their ways of being and doing would be found correct at the
expiration of that term, however much so at the period of
its writing. Broadway is not only partly Macadamised since
first we arrived here, but there are actually to be seen in it
£ 976
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walked out together. The evening was very
beautiful, and we walked as far as Canal Street and
back. During our promenade, two fire engines
passed us, attended by the usual retinue of shout-
ing children; this is about the sixth fire since
yesterday evening. They are so frequent here,
that the cry <c Fire, fire !” seems to excite neither
alarm nor curiosity, and except the above men-
tioned pains-taking juveniles, none of the inha-
bitants seem in the least disturbed by it.# We
prosecuted our walk down to the Battery, but
just as we reached it, we had to return, as ’t was
tea-time. I was sorry: the whole scene was
most lovely. The moon shone full upon the trees
and intersecting walks of the promenade, and
threw a bright belt of silver along the water’s
edge. The fresh night wind came over the broad
estuary, rippling it, and stirring the boughs with
its delicious breath. A building, w'hich was once
now, two or three carriages of decent build, with hammer-
cloths, foot-boards, and even once or twice lately I have
seen footmen standing on those foot-boards !!!
* Perhaps one reason for the perfect coolness with which
a fire is endured in New York is the dexterity and courage
of the firemen: they are, for the most part, respectable
tradesmen’s sons, who enlist in this service, rather than the
militia; and the vigilance and activity with which their duty
is discharged deserves the highest praise.JOURNAL.
77
a fort, from whence the Americans fired upon our
ships, is now turned into a sort of cafe, and was
brilliantly lighted with coloured lamps, shining
among the trees, and reflected in the water. The
whole effect was pretty, and very Parisian. We
came home, and had tea, after which Mr.---------
came in. He told us, that we must not walk
alone at night, for that we might get spoken to,
and that a friend of his, seeing us go out without
a man, had followed us the whole way, in order
to see that nothing happened to us : this was very
civil. Played and sang, and strove to make that
stupid lad sing, but he was shy, and would not
open his mouth, even the accustomed hair’s
breadth. At about eleven he went away; and we
came to bed at twelve.
Monday, 10 th.
Rose at eight. After breakfast wrote journal,
and practised for an hour. -----called. I re-
member taking a great fancy to him about eight
years ago, when I was a little girl in Paris; but,
mercy, how he is aged ! I wonder whether I am
beginning to look old yet, for it seems to me that
all the world’s in wrinkles. My father went out
e 378
JOURNAL.
with him. Read a canto in Dante; also read
through a volume of Bryant’s poetry, which Mr.
— had lent us, to introduce us to the American
Parnassus. I liked a great deal of it very well;
and I liked the pervading spirit of it much more,
which appears to me hopeful and bright, and what
the spirit of a poet should be; for in spite of all
De Stael’s sayings, and Byron’s doings, I hold that
melancholy is not essentially the nature of a poet.
Though instances may be adduced of great poets
whose Helicon has been but a bitter well of tears,
yet, in itself, the spirit of poetry appears to me to
be too strong, too bright, too full of the elements
of beauty and of excellence, too full of God’s own
nature, to be dark or desponding; and though
from the very fineness of his mental constitution
a poet shall suffer more intensely from the baseness
and the bitterness which are the leaven of life,
yet he, of all men, the most possesses the power
to discover truth, and beauty, and goodness, where
they do exist; and where they exist not, to create
them. If the clouds of existence are darker, its
sunshine is also brighter to him ; and while others,
less gifted, lose themselves in the labyrinth of life,
his spirit should throw light upon the darkness,
and he should walk in peace and faith over the
stormy waters, and through the uncertain night;JOURNAL.
79
standing as’t were above the earth, he views with
clearer eyes its mysteries; he finds in apparent
discord glorious harmony, and to him the sum of
all is good; for, in God’s works, good still abounds
to the subjection of evil. ’T is this trustful spirit
that seems to inspire Bryant, and to me, therefore,
his poetry appears essentially good. There is not
much originality in it. I scarce think there can be
in poems so entirely descriptive: his descriptions
are very beautiful, but there is some sameness in
them, and he does not escape self-repetition ; but
I am a bad critic, for which I thank God ! I know
the tears rolled down my cheeks more than once
as I read; I know that agreeable sensations and
good thoughts were suggested by what I read; I
thought some of it beautiful, and all of it wholesome
(in contradistinction to the literature of this age),
and I was well pleased with it altogether. After-
wards read a sort of satirical burlesque, called
“ Fanny,” by Hallek: the wit being chiefly con-
fined to local allusions and descriptions of New
York manners, I could not derive much amusement
from it.	*	#	*	*
*****
*****
When my father came home, went with him to
call on Mrs. —. What I saw of the house
£ 4>80
JOURNAL.
appeared to me very pretty, and well adapted to
the heat of the season. A large and lofty room,
paved with India matting, and furnished with white
divans, and chairs, no other furniture encumbering
or cramming it up; it looked very airy and cool.
Our hostess did not put herself much out of the
way to entertain us, but after the first “ how do
you do,” continued conversing with another visiter,
leaving us to the mercy of a very pretty young
lady, who carried on the conversation at an
average of a word every three minutes. Neither
Mr.------- nor his eldest daughter were at home;
the latter, however, presently came in, and relieved
her sister and me greatly. We sat the proper
time, and then came away.	*	#
# # # # #
This is a species of intercourse I love not any
where. I never practised it in my own blessed
land, neither will I here. We dined at six : after
dinner played and sang till eight, and then walked
out with D-------- and my father, by the most
brilliant moonlight in the world. We went down
to the Battery; the aquatic Vauxhall was lighted
up very gaily, and they were sending up rockets
every few minutes, which, shooting athwart the
sky, threw a bright stream of light over the
water, and falling back in showers of red stars,JOURNAL.
81
seemed to sink away before the steadfast shining
of the moon, who held high supremacy in heaven.
The bay lay like molten silver under her light,
and every now and then a tiny skiff, emerging
from the shade, crossed the bright waters, its dark
hull and white sails relieved between the shining
sea and radiant sky. Came home at nine, tea’d
and sat embroidering till twelve o’clock, indus-
trious little me.
Tuesday, 11 th.
This day week we landed in New York; and
this day was its prototype, rainy, dull, and dreary;
with occasional fits of sunshine, and light delicious
air, as capricious as a fine lady. After breakfast,
Colonel------ called. Wrote journal, and prac-
tised till one o’clock. My father then set off
with Colonel------ for Hoboken, a, place across
the water, famous once for duelling, but now the
favourite resort of a turtle-eating club, who go
there every Tuesday to cook and swallow turtle.
The day was as bad as a party of pleasure could
expect, (and when were their expectations of bad
weather disappointed ?) nathless, my father, at
the Colonel’s instigation, persevered, and went
forth, leaving me his card of invitation, which
£ 582
JOURNAL.
made me scream for half an hour; the wording
as follows : — c< Sir, the Hoboken Turtle Club
will meet at the grove, for spoon exercise, on
Tuesday, the 11th inst., by order of the Pre-
sident.” Mr.--------and the Doctor paid us a visit
of some length.	*	*	*	*
# # # # #
When they were gone, read a canto in Dante,
and sketched till four o’clock. I wish I could
make myself draw. I want to do every thing in
^he world that can be done, and, by the by, that
reminds me of my German, which I must persecute.
At four o’clock sent for a hair-dresser, that I
might in good time see that I am not made an
object on my first night. He was a Frenchman,
and after listening profoundly to my description
of the head-dress I wanted, replied, as none but
a Frenchman could, “ Madame, la difficult e rCesb
pas d’executer votre coiffure mais de la bien con-
cevoir.” However, he conceived and executed
sundry very smooth-looking bows, and, upon the
whole, dressed my hair very nicely, but charged a
dollar for so doing ; O nefarious. D-------- and I
dined tete-a-tete; the evening was sulky — I was
in miserable spirits.	*	*	*
# # # # *
Sat working till my father came home, which
he did at about half past six. His account of hisJOURNAL.
83
dinner was any thing but delightful; to be sure
he has no taste for rainy ruralities, and his feeling
description of the damp ground, damp trees, damp
clothes, and damp atmosphere, gave me the
rheumatiz, letting alone that they had nothing to
eat but turtle, and that out of iron spoons,— “ Ah,
you vill go a pleasuring.”	*	*	#
# # # # #
He had a cold before, and I fear this will make
him very ill. He went like wisdom to take a
vapour bath directly. -----------came, and sat with
us till he returned. Had tea at eight, and em-
broidered till midnight. The wind is rioting over
the earth. I should like to see the Hudson now.
The black clouds, like masses of dark hair, are
driven over the moon’s pale face, the red lights
and fire engines are dancing up and down the
streets, the church bells are all tolling — ’t is sad
and strange.
’T is all in vain, it may not last,
The sickly sunlight dies away,
And the thick clouds that veil the past,
Roll darkly o’er my present day.
Have I not flung them off, and striven
To seek some dawning hope in vain;
Have I not been for ever driven
Back to the bitter past again ?
£ 684?
JOURNAL.
What though a brighter sky bends o’er
Scenes where no former image greets me,
Though lost in paths untrod before,
Here, even here, pale Memory meets me.
Oh life — oh blighted bloomless tree!
Why cling thy fibres to the earth ?
Summer can bring no flower to thee,
Autumn no bearing, spring no birth.
Bid me not strive, I’ll strive no more,
To win from pain my joyless breast;
Sorrow has ploughed too deeply o’er
Life’s Eden — let it take the rest!
Wednesday, 12th.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, heard my father
say Hamlet. How beautiful his whole conception
of that part is, and yet it is but an actor’s con-
ception too.	#	*	*	*
# # # # #
I am surprised at any body’s ever questioning the
real madness of Hamlet: I know but one passage
in the play which tells against it, and there are a
thousand that go to prove it. But leaving all
isolated parts out of the question, the entire colour
of the character is the proper ground from which
to draw the right deduction. Gloomy, despond-JOURNAL.
85
ing, ambitious, and disappointed in his ambition,
full of sorrow for a dead father, of shame for a
living mother, of indignation for his ill-filled in-
heritance, of impatience at his own dependent
position; of a thoughtful, doubtful, questioning
spirit, looking with timid boldness from the riddles
of earth and life, to those of death and the mys-
terious land beyond it; weary of existence upon
its verv threshold, and withheld alone from self-
destruction by religious awe, and that pervading
uncertainty of mind which stands on the brink,
brooding over the unseen may-be of another
world; in love, moreover, and sad and dreamy in
his affection, as in every other sentiment; for
there is not enough of absolute passion in his love
to make it a powerful and engrossing interest;
had it been such, the entireness and truth of
Hamlet’s character would have been destroyed.
’T is love indeed, but a pulseless, powerless love ;
gentle, refined, and tender, but without ardour or
energy; such are the various elements of Ham-
let’s character, at the very beginning of the play:
then see what follows. A frightful and unnatural
visitation from the dead; a horrible and sudden
revelation of the murder of the father, for whom
his soul is in mourning; thence burning hatred
and thirst of vengeance against his uncle; double86
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loathing of his mother’s frailty; above all, that
heaviest burden that a human creature can have
put upon him, an imperative duty calling for ful-
filment, and a want of resolution and activity to
meet the demand; thence an unceasing struggle
between the sluggish nature and the upbraiding
soul; an eternal self-spurring and self-accusing,
from which mental conflict, alone sufficient to un-
seat a stronger mind, he finds relief in fits of
desponding musing, the exhaustion of over-
wrought powers. Then comes the vigilant and
circumspect guard he is forced to keep upon every
word, look, and action, lest they reveal his terrible
secret; the suspicion and mistrust of all that sur-
round him, authorised by his knowledge of his
uncle’s nature; his constant watchfulness over the
spies that are set to watch him; then come, in the
course of events, Polonius’s death, the uninten-
tional work of his own sword, the second appa-
rition of his father’s ghost, his banishment to
England, still haunted by his treacherous friends,
the miserable death of poor Ophelia, together
with the unexpected manner of his first hearing of
it — if all these — the man’s own nature, sad and
desponding — his educated nature (at a German
university), reasoning and metaphysical—and the
nature he acquires from the tutelage of events,JOURNAL.
87
bitter, dark, amazed, and uncertain; if these do
not make up as complete a madman as ever
walked between heaven and earth, I know not
what does.* Wrote journal, and began to prac-
tise ; while doing so, — called; he said that he
was accompanied by some friends who wished to
see me, and were at the door. I ’ve heard of men’s
shutting the door in the face of a dun, and going
out the back way to escape a bailiff—but how to get
rid of such an attack as* this I knew not, and was
therefore fain to beg the gentlemen would walk
in, and accordingly in they walked, four as fine
grown men as you would wish to see on a summer’s
day. I was introduced to this regiment man by
man, and thought, as my Sheffield friend would
say, “ If them be American manners, defend me
from them.” They are traders, to be sure; but I
never heard of such wholesale introduction in
my life. They sat a little while, behaved very
* I have lately read Goethe’s Wilhelm Meister. In that
wonderful analysis of the first work of our master-mind by
his German peer, all has been said upon this subject that the
most philosophical reason, or poetical imagination, can sug-
gest ; and who that has read it can forget that most ap-
propriate and beautiful simile, wherein Hamlet’s mind is
likened to an acorn planted in a porcelain vase — the seed
becomes living— the roots expand — and the fragile vessel
bursts into a thousand shivers.88
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like Christians, and then departed. Captain----------
and-------called, — the former to ask us to come
down and see the Pacific, poor old lady ! When
they were gone, practised, read a canto in Dante,
and translated verbatim a German fable, which
kept me till dinner-time. After dinner, walked
out towards the Battery. ---------joined us. It was
between sunset and moonrise, and a lovelier light
never lay upon sea, earth, and sky. The horizon
was bright orange colour, fading as it rose to pale
amber, which died away again into the modest
violet colour of twilight; this possessed the main
sky wholly, except where two or three masses of
soft dark purple clouds floated, from behind which
the stars presently winked at us with their bright
eyes. The river lay as still as death, though
there was a delicious fresh air: tiny boats were
stealing like shadows over the water; and every
now and then against the orange edge of the sky
moved the masts of some schooner, whose hull
was hidden in the deep shadow thrown over it by
the Jersey coast. A band was playing in the
Castle garden, and not a creature but ourselves
seemed abroad to see all this loveliness. Fashion
makes the same fools all the world over; and
Broadway, with its crowded dusty pavement, and
in the full glare of day, is preferable, in the eyesJOURNAL.
89
of the New York promenaders, to this cool and
beautiful walk. Came home at about nine. On
the stairs met that odious Dr. ——, who came
into the drawing-room without asking or being
asked, sat himself down, and called me “ Miss
Fanny.” I should like to have thrown my tea
at him !	----sent up his name and presently
followed it. I like to see any of our fellow-pas-
sengers, however little such society would have
pleased me under any other circumstances; but
necessity " makes us acquainted with strange bed-
fellows ; ” and these my ship-mates will, to the end
of, time, be my very good friends and boon com-
panions. My father went to the Park theatre, to
see a man of the name of Hacket give an Ameri-
can entertainment after Matthews’s at-home fashion.
I would not go, but staid at home looking at the
moon, which was glorious. *	*	*
# # # # #
# # # # #
To-night, as I stood watching that surpassing
sunset, I would have given it all — gold, and
purple, and all — for a wreath of English fog
stealing over the water.90
JOURNAL.
Thursday, 13th,
Rose late: there was music in the night, which
is always a strange enchantment to me. After
breakfast, wrote journal. At eleven, Captain —
and ------called for us; and my uncle having
joined us, we proceeded to the slip, as they call
the places where the ships lie, and which answer
to our docks. Poor dear Pacific! I ran up her
side with great glee, and was introduced to
Captain------, her old commander; rushed down
into my berth, and was actually growing pathetic
over the scene of my sea-sorrows, when Mr.--------
clapped his hands close to me, and startled me
out of my reverie. Certainly my adhesiveness
must either be very large, or uncommonly active
just now, for my heart yearned towards the old
timbers with exceeding affection. The old ship
was all drest out in her best, and after sitting for
some time in our cabin, we adjourned to the
larger one and lunched. Mr. --------- joined our
party; and we had one or two of our old ship
songs, with their ridiculous burdens, with due
solemnity. Saw Mr.--------, but not dear M.-----.
Visited the forecastle, whence I have watched
such glorious sunsets, such fair uprisings of theJOURNAL.
91
starry sisterhood; now it looked upon the dusty
quay and dirty dock water, and the graceful sails
were all stripped away, and the bare masts and
rigging shone in the intense sunlight. Poor good
ship, I wish to Heaven my feet were on her deck,
and her prow turned to the east. I would not
care if the devil himself drove a hurricane at our
backs. Visited the fish and fruit markets *: it
was too late in the day to see either to advantage,
but the latter reminded me of Aladdin’s treasure:
the heaps of peaches, filling with their rich
downy balls high baskets ranged in endless rows,
and painted of a bright vermilion colour, which
threw a ruddy ripeness over the fruit. The enor-
mous baskets (such as are used in England to
carry linen) piled with melons, the wild grapes,
the pears and apples, all so plenteous, so fragrant,
* The fish of these waters may be excellent in the water;
but owing to the want of care and niceness with which they
are kept after being caught, they are very seldom worth eating
when brought to table. They have no turbot or soles, a
great national misfortune: their best fish are rock-fish, bass,
shad, (an excellent herring, as big as a small salmon,) and
sheep’s head. Cod and salmon I have eaten; but from the
above cause they were never comparable to the same fish at
an English table. The lobsters, crabs, and oysters are all
gigantic, frightful to behold, and not particularly well-
flavoured : their size makes them tough and coarse.92
JOURNAL.
so beautiful in form and colour, leading the mind
to the wondrous bounteousness which has dowered
this land with every natural treasure — the whole
enchanted me. -------, to my horror, bought a
couple of beautiful live wild-pigeons, which he
carried home, head downwards, one in each coat
pocket. We parted from him at the park gate,
and proceeded to Murray Street, to look at the
furnished house my father wishes to take. Upon
enquiry, however, we found that it was already
let. The day was bright and beautiful, and
my father proposed crossing the river to Hobo-
ken, the scene of the turtle-eating expedition.
We did so accordingly: himself, D---------, Mr.
-----, and I. Steamers go across every five
minutes, conveying passengers on foot and horse-
back, gigs, carriages, carts, any thing and every
thing. The day was lovely — the broad, bright
river was gemmed writh a thousand sails. Away
to the right it stretched between richly wooded
banks, placid and blue as a lake; to the left, in
the rocky doorway of the narrows, two or three
ships stood revealed against the cloudless sky.
We reached the opposite coast, and walked. It
was nearly three miles from where we landed to
the scene of the " spoon-exercise” The whole of
our route lay through a beautiful wild plantation,JOURNAL.
93
or rather strip of wood, I should say? for ’tis
nature’s own gardening which crowns the high
bank of the river; through which trellice-work of
varied foliage, we caught exquisite glimpses of the
glorious waters, the glittering city, and the oppo-
site banks, decked out in all the loveliest contrast
of sunshine and shade. As we stood in our leafy
colonnade looking out upon this fair scene, the
rippling water made sweet music far down below
us, striking with its tiny silver waves the smooth
sand and dark-coloured rocks from which they
were ebbing. Many of the trees were quite new
to me, and delighted me with their graceful forms
and vivid foliage. The broad-leaved catalpa, and
the hickory with its bright coral-coloured berries.
Many lovely, lowly things, too, grew by our path-
side, which we gathered as we passed, to bring
away, but which withered in our hands ere we
returned. Gorgeous butterflies were zig-zagging
through the air, and for the first time I longed to
imprison them. In pursuing one, I ran into the
midst of a slip of clover land, but presently
jumped out again, on hearing the swarms of grass-
hoppers round me. Mr. ----------- caught one; it
was larger and thicker than the English grass-
hopper, and of a dim mottled brown colour, like
the plumage of our common moth; but presently94
JOURNAL.
on his opening his hand to let it escape, it spread
out a pair of dark purple wings, tipped with pale
primrose colour, and flew away a beautiful but-
terfly, such as the one I had been seduced by.
The slips of grass ground on the left of our path
were the only things that annoyed me: they were
ragged, and rank, and high, — they wanted mow-
ing ; and if they had been mowed soft, and thick,
and smooth, like an English lawn, how gloriously
the lights and shadows of this lovely sky would
fall through the green roof of this wood upon
them. There is nothing in nature that, to my
fancy, receives light and shade with as rich an
effect as sloping lawn land. Oh ! England,
England ! how I have seen your fresh emerald
mantle deepen and brighten in a summer’s day.
About a hundred yards from the place where they
dined on Tuesday, with no floor but the damp
earth, no roof but the dripping trees, stands a sort
of cafe ; a long, low, pretty Italianish-looking
building. The wood is cleared away in front of
it, and it commands a lovely view of the Hudson
and its opposite shores: and here they might
have been sheltered and comfortable, but I sup-
pose it was not yet the appointed day of the
month with them for eating their dinner within
walls; and, rather than infringe on an establishedJOURNAL.
95
rule, they preferred catching a cold apiece. The
place where they met in the open air is extremely
beautiful, except, of course, on a rainy day. The
shore is lower just here; and though there are
trees enough to make shade all round, and a thick
screen of wood and young undergrowth behind,
the front is open to the river, which makes a bend
just below, forming a lake-like bay, round which
again the coast rises into rocky walls covered with
rich foliage. Upon one of these promontories, in
the midst of a high, open knoll, surrounded and
overhung by higher grounds covered with wood,
stood the dwelling of the owner of the land, high
above the river, overlooking its downward course
to the sea, perched like an eagle’s aerie, half-way
between heaven and the level earth, but beauti-
fully encircled with waving forests, a shade in
summer and a shelter in winter. My father,
D-----, and my bonnet sat down in the shade.
Mr.------and I clambered upon some pieces of
rock at the water’s edge, whence we looked out
over river and land — a fair sight. “ Oh ! ” I ex-
claimed, pointing to the highlands on our left,
through whose rich foliage the rifted granite
looked cold and grey, “ what a place for a
scramble! there must be lovely walks there.”
“ Ay,” returned my companion, “ and a fewJOURNAL.
96
rattle-snakes too.” * We found D——, my
father, and my bonnet buffeting with a swarm of
musquitoes; this is a great nuisance. We turned
our steps homeward. I picked up a nut enclosed
like a walnut in a green case. I opened it; it was
not ripe; but in construction exactly like a walnut,
with the same bitter filmy skin over the fruit,
which is swreet and oily, and like a walnut in
flavour also. Mr.------- told me it was called a
marrow-nut. The tree on which it grew had
foliage of the acacia kind. We had to rush to
meet the steam-boat, which was just going across:
the whole walk reminded me of that part of
Oattands which, from its wild and tangled wood-
land, they call America. *	*	*
# % # # #
There must have been something surpassingly
beautiful in our surroundings, for even Mr.------,
into whose composition I suspect much of the
poetical element does not enter, began expatiating
on the happiness of the original possessors of these
fair lands, and waters, the Indians — the Red
* My friend was entertaining himself, at the expense of
my credulity, in making this assertion. The rattle-snakes
and red Indians have fled together before the approach of
civilisation; and it would be as difficult to find the one as the
other in the vicinity of any of the large cities of the northern
states.JOURNAL.
97
Children of the soil, who followed the chase
through these lovely wildernesses, and drove their
light canoes over these broad streams — (t great
nature’s happy commoners,”—till the predestined
curse came on them, till the white sails of the in-
vaders threw their shadow over these seas, and
the work of extermination began in these wild
fastnesses of freedom. The destruction of the
original inhabitants of a country by its discoverers,
always attended, as it is, with injustice and cruelty,
appears to me one of the most mysterious dispens-
ations of Providence.
The chasing, enslaving, and destroying creatures,
whose existence, however inferior, is as justly
theirs, as that of the most refined European is
his; who, for the most part, too, receive their
enemies with open-handed hospitality, until taught
treachery by being betrayed, and cruelty by fear;
the driving the child of the soil off it, or, what is
fifty times worse, chaining him to till it; all the
various forms of desolation which have ever fol-
lowed the landing of civilised men upon unci-
vilised shores; in short, the theory and practice
of discovery and conquest, as recorded in all
history, is a very singular and painful subject of
contemplation.
’T is true .that cultivation and civilisation, the
VOL . I.	F98
JOURNAL#
arts and sciences that render life useful, the know-
ledge that ennobles, the adornments that refine
existence, above all, the religion that is the most
sacred trust and dear reward, all these, like pure
sunshine and healthful airs following a hurricane,
succeed the devastation of the invader; but the
sufferings of those who are swept away are not
the less ; and though I believe that good alone is
God’s result, it seems a fearful proof of the evil
wherewith this earth is cursed, that good cannot
progress but over such a path. No one, beholding
the prosperous and promising state of this fine
country, could wish it again untenanted of its
enterprising and industrious possessors; yet even
while looking with admiration at all that they
have achieved, with expectation amounting to cer-
tainty to all that they will yet accomplish, ’tis
difficult to refrain from bestowing some thoughts
of pity and of sadness upon those whose homes
have been overturned, whose language has passed
away, and whose feet are daily driven further from
those territories of which they were once sole and
sovereign lords. How strange it is to think, that
less than one hundred years ago, these shores,
resounding with the voice of populous cities, —
these waters, laden with the commerce of the wide
world,— were silent wildernesses, where sprang andJOURNAL.
99
fell the forest leaves, where ebbed and flowed the
ocean tides from day to day, and from year to
year in uninterrupted stillness; where the great
sun, who looked on the vast empires of the East,
its mouldering kingdoms, its lordly palaces, its
ancient temples, its swarming cities, came and
looked down upon the still dwelling of utter lone-
liness, where nature sat enthroned in everlasting
beauty, undisturbed by the far-off din of worlds
u beyond the flood.” *
* It is two years since I visited Hoboken for the first
time; it is now more beautiful than ever. The good taste
of the proprietor has made it one of the most picturesque
and delightful places imaginable; it wants but a good car-
riage-road along the water’s edge (for which the ground lies
very favourably) to make it as perfect a public promenade
as any European city can boast, with the advantage of such a "
river, for its principal object, as none of them possess.
I think the European traveller, in order to form a just
estimate both of the evils and advantages deriving from the
institutions of this country, should spend one day in the
streets of New York, and the next in the walks of Hoboken.
If in the one, the toil, the care, the labour of mind and body,
the outward and visible signs of the debasing pursuit of
wealth, are marked in melancholy characters upon every man
he meets, and bear witness to the great curse of the country;
in the other, the crowds of happy, cheerful, enjoying beings
of that order, which, in the old world, are condemned to
ceaseless and ill-requited labour, will testify to the blessings
which counterbalance that curse. I never was so forcibly
struck with the prosperity and happiness of the lower orders
F 2100
JOURNAL.
Came home rather tired: my father asked
Mr.------to dine with us, but he could not. After
of society in this country as yesterday returning from Ho-
boken. The walks along the river and through the woods,
the steamers crossing from the city, were absolutely thronged
with a cheerful, well-dressed population abroad, merely for
the purpose'of pleasure and exercise. Journeymen, labourers,
handicraftsmen, trades-people, with their families, bearing all
in their dress and looks evident signs of well-being and con-
tentment, were all flocking from their confined avocations,
into the pure air, the bright sunshine, and beautiful shade of
this lovely place. I do not know any spectacle which could
give a foreigner, especially an Englishman, a better illustra-
tion of that peculiar excellence of the American government
— the freedom and happiness of the lower classes. Neither
is it to be said that this was a holyday, or an occasion of
peculiar festivity — it was a common week-day — such as
our miserable manufacturing population spends from sun-rise
to sun-down, in confined, incessant, unhealthy toil—to earn,
at its conclusion, the inadequate reward of health and happi-
ness so wasted. The contrast struck me forcibly — it re-
joiced my heart; it surely was an object of contemplation, that
any one who had a heart must have rejoiced in. Presently,
however, came the following reflections: —^These people
are happy — their wants are satisfied, their desires fulfilled—
their capacities of enjoyment meet with full employment —
they are well fed — well clothed — well housed — moderate
labour insures them all this, and leaves them leisure for such
recreations as they are capable of enjoying; but how is it with
me ? — and I mean not me myself alone, but all who, like my-
self, have received a higher degree of mental cultivation,
whose estimate of happiness is, therefore, so much higher,
whose capacity for enjoyment is so much more expanded andJOURNAL.
101
dinner, sat working till ten o’clock, when----------
came to take leave of us. He is going off to-
morrow morning to Philadelphia, but will be back
for our Tuesday’s dinner. The people here are
all up and about very early in the morning. I went
out at half-past eight, and found all Broadway
abroad.
cultivated; — can I be satisfied with a race in a circular rail-
road car, or a swing between the lime-trees ? where are my
peculiar objects of pleasure and recreation ? where are the
picture-galleries — the sculptures — the works of art and
science — the countless wonders of human ingenuity and
skill — the cultivated and refined society — the intercourse
with men of genius, literature, scientific knowledge — where
are all the sources from which I am to draw my recreations ?
They are knot. The heart of a philanthropist may indeed be
satisfied, but the intellectual man feels a dearth that is inex-
pressibly painful; and in spite of the real and great pleasure
which I derived from the sight of so much enjoyment, I
could not help desiring that enjoyment of another order were
combined with it. Perhaps the two are incompatible; if so,
I would not alter the present state of things if I could.
The losers here are decidedly in the minority. Indeed, so
much so, as hardly to form a class; they are a few individuals,
scattered over the country, and of course their happiness
ought not to come into competition with that of the mass of
the people; but the Americans, at the same time that they
make no provision whatever for the happiness of such a por-
tion of their inhabitants, would be very angry if one were to
say it was a very inconsiderable one, and yet that is the
truth.102
JOURNAL.
Friday, 14 th.
Forget all about it, except that I went about the
town with Colonel —.	#	#	*
#	*	#	%	#
went to see his Quaker wife, whom I liked very
much.	*	*	*	*	*
#	#	#	#	#
Drove all about New York, which more than ever
reminded me of the towns in France: passed the
Bovrery theatre, which is a handsome, finely-pro-
portioned building, with a large brazen eagle
plastered on the pediment, for all the world like an
insurance mark, or the sign of the spread eagle:
this is nefarious ! We passed a pretty house,
which Colonel------called an old mansion; mercy
on me, him, and it! Old ! I thought of Warwick
Castle, of Hatfield, of Checquers, of Hopwood,
— old, and there it stood, with its white pillars
and Italian-looking portico, for all the world like
one of our own cit’s yesterday-grown boxes. Old,
quotha ! the woods and waters, and hills and skies
alone are old here; the works of men are in the very
greenness and unmellowed imperfection of youth;
true, ’tis a youth full of vigorous sap and glorious
promise; spring, laden with blossoms, foretellingJOURNAL.
103
abundant and rich produce, and so let them be
proud of it. But the worst of it is, the Americans
are not satisfied with glorying in what they are,
— which, considering the time and opportunities
they have had, is matter of glory quite sufficient,—
they are never happy without comparing this their
sapling to the giant oaks of the old world, — and
what can one say to that? Is New York like
London ? No, by my two troths it is not; but
the oak was an acorn once, and New York will
surely, if the world holds together long enough,
become a lordly city, such as we know of beyond
the sea.
Went in the evening to see Wallack act the
Brigand; it was his benefit, and the house was
very good. He is perfection in this sort of thing,
yet there were one or two blunders even in his
melo-dramatic acting of this piece; however, he
looks very like the thing, and it is very nice to
see — once.
Saturday, 1 Sth.
Sat stitching all the blessed day. So we are to
go to Philadelphia before Boston. I ’m sorry.
The H-------s will be disappointed, and I shall get
no riding, che seccatura! At five dressed, and
f 4104
JOURNAL.
went to the-, where we were to dine. This is
one of the first houses here, so I conclude that
I am to consider what I see as a tolerable sample
of the ways and manners of being, doing, and suf-
fering of the best society in New York. There
were about twenty people; the women were in a
sort of French demi-toilette, with bare necks, and
long sleeves, heads frizzed out after the very last
petit courier, and thread net handkerchiefs and
capes; the whole of which, to my English eye,
appeared a strange marrying of incongruities.
The younger daughter of our host is beautiful; a
young and brilliant likeness of Ellen Tree, with
more refinement, and a smile that was, not to say
a ray, but a whole focus of sun rays, a perfect
blaze of light; she was much taken up with a
youth, to whom, my neighbour at dinner informed
me, she was engaged.	*	*	*
*****
The women here, like those of most warm climates,
ripen very early, and decay proportionably soon.
They are, generally speaking, pretty, with good
complexions, and an air of freshness and bril-
liancy, but this, I am told, is very evanescent; and
whereas, in England, a woman is in the full bloom
of health and beauty from twenty to five-and-
thirty, here they scarcely reach the first periodJOURNAL,
105
without being faded and looking old.* They
marry very young, and this is another reason why
age comes prematurely upon them. There was a
fair young thing at dinner to-day, who did not look
above seventeen, and she was a wife. As for their
figures, like those of French women, they are
too well dressed for one to judge exactly what
they are really like: they are, for the most part,
short and slight, with remarkably pretty feet and
ankles; but there’s too much pelerine and petti-
coat, and “ de quoi” of every sort to guess any
thing more. #	#	#	#
# # # # #
* # # # #
There was a Mr.---------, the magnus Apollo of
New York, who is a musical genius : sings as well
as any gentleman need sing, pronounces Italian
well, and accompanies himself without false
chords; all which renders him the man round
whom (as round H---------, G-----, Lord C-------,
and that pretty Lord O-----, in our own country,)
* The climate of this country is the scape-goat upon which
all the ill looks and ill health of the ladies is laid; but while
they are brought up as effeminately as they are, take as little
exercise, live in rooms like ovens during the winter, and
marry as early as they do, it will appear evident that many
causes combine with an extremely variable climate, to sallow
their complexions, and destroy their constitutions.
F 5106
JOURNAL.
the women listen and languish. He sang the
Phantom Bark: the last time I heard it was from
the lips of Moore, with two of the loveliest faces
in all the world hanging over him, Mrs. N---------,
and Mrs. B-------. By the by, the man who sat
next me at dinner was asking me all manner of
questions about Mrs. N-------; among others, whe-
ther she was “ as pale as a poetess ought to be ! ”
Oh ! how I wish Corinne had but heard that
herself! what a deal of funny scorn would have
looked beautiful on her rich brown cheek and
brilliant lips. The dinner was plenteous, and
tolerably well dressed, but ill served: there wTere
not half servants enough, and we had neither
water-glasses nor finger-glasses. Now, though I
don’t eat with my fingers, (except peaches, whereat
I think the aborigines, who were paring theirs
like so many potatoes, seemed rather amazed,) yet
do I hold a finger-glass at the conclusion of my
dinner a requisite to comfort. After dinner we
had coffee, but no tea, whereat my English taste
was in high dudgeon. The gentlemen did not
sit long, and when they joined us, Mr.-------, as I
said before, uttered sweet sounds. By the by, I
was not a little amused at Mrs.-------- asking me
whether I had heard of his singing, or their
musical soirees, and seeming all but surprised thatJOURNAL.
107
I had no revelations of either across the Atlantic.
Mercy on me! what fools people are all over the
world ! The worst is, they are all fools of the
same sort, and there is no profit whatever in tra-
velling. Mr. B-------, who is an Englishman,
happened to ask me if I knew Captain-------------,
wdiereupon we immediately struck up a convers-
ation, and talked over English folks and doings
together, to my entire satisfaction. The —*
were there: he is brother to that wondrous ruler
of the spirits wThom I did so dislike in London,
and his lady is a daughter of Lord------.	#
# # # # #
# # # * #
I was very glad to come home. I sang to them
two or three things, but the piano was pitched too
high for my voice ; by the by, in that large, lofty,
fine room, they had a tiny, old-fashioned, be-
curtained cabinet piano stuck right against the wall,
unto which the singer’s face was turned, and into
which his voice was absorbed. We had hardly
regained our inn and uncloaked, when there came
a tap at the door, and in walked Mr.-------to ask
me if we would not join them (himself and the
-----) at supper. He said that, besides five being
a great deal too early to dine, he had not half
dinner enough; and then began the regular English
f 6108
JOURNAL.
quizzing of every thing and every body we had left
behind. Oh dear, oh dear ! how thoroughly
English it was, and how it reminded me of H----;
of course, we did not accept their invitation, but
it furnished me matter of amusement. How we
English folks do cling to our own habits, our own
views, our own things, our own people; how, in
spite of all our wanderings and scatterings over
the whole face of the earth, like so many Jews, we
never lose our distinct and national individuality;
nor fail to lay hold of one another’s skirts, to laugh
at and depreciate all that differs from that country,
which we delight in forsaking for any and all
others.
Sunday, 16th.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, walked to church
with the C-------s and Mr. B-------. They went
to Grace church for the music; we stopped short
to go to the-------pew in the Episcopal church.
The pew was crammed, I am sorry to say, owing
to our being there, which they had pressed so
earnestly, that we thought ourselves bound to accept
the invitation. The sermon was tolerably good;
better than the average sermons one hears in Lon-
don, and sufficiently well delivered. After church,JOURNAL.
109
I------ called, also two men of the name of M----,
large men, very ! also Mr. B-----and Mr. C-------:
when they were all gone, wrote journal, and began
a letter to J-----. Dined at five; after dinner,
went on with my letter to J——, and wrote an
immense one to dear H--------, which kept me pen
in hand till past twelve. A tremendous thunder-
storm came on, which lasted from nine o’clock till
past two in the morning : I never saw but one such
in my life; and that was our memorable Weybridge
storm, which only exceeded this in the circumstance
of my having seen a thunderbolt fall during that
paroxysm of the elements. But this was very
glorious, awful, beautiful, and tremendous. The
lightning played without the intermission of a
second, in wide sheets of purple glaring flame that
trembled over the earth for nearly two or three
seconds at a time; making the whole world, river,
sky, trees, and buildings, look like a ghostly uni-
verse cut out in chalk. The light over the water,
which absolutely illumined the shore on the other
side with the broad glare of full day, was of a
magnificent purple colour. The night was pitchy
dark, too; so that between each of these ghastly
smiles of the devil, the various pale steeples and
buildings, which seemed at every moment to leap
from nothing into existence, after standing out in110
JOURNAL.
fearful relief against a back-ground of fire, were
hidden like so many dreams in deep and total
darkness. God's music rolled along the heavens ;
the forked lightnings now dived from the clouds
into the very bosom of the city, now’ ran like
tangled threads of fire all round the blazing sky.
“ The big bright rain came dancing to the earth,"
the wind clapped its huge wings, and swept through
the dazzling glare; and as I stood, with eyes half
veiled (for the light wTas too intense even upon the
ground to be looked at with unshaded eyes),
gazing at this fierce holyday of the elements — at
the mad lightning—at the brilliant shower, through
which the flashes shone like daylight—listening to
the huge thunder, as its voice resounded, and its
heavy feet rebounded along the clouds—and the
swift spirit-like wind rushing triumphantly along,
uttering its wild paean over the amazed earth ; —
I felt more intensely than I ever did before
the wondrous might of these, God's powerful
and beautiful creatures; the wondrous might,
majesty, and awfulness of him their Lord, beneath
whose footstool they lie chained, by his great good-
ness made the ministers of good to this our lowly
dwelling-place. I did not go to bed till two; the
storm continued to rage long after that.JOURNAL.
Ill
Monday, 11th.
Rose at eight. At twelve, went to rehearsal. The
weather is intolerable; I am in a state of per-
petual fusion. The theatre is the coolest place I
have yet been in, I mean at rehearsal; when the
front is empty, and the doors open, and the stage
is so dark that we are obliged to rehearse by candle-
light. That washed-out man who failed in London
when he acted Romeo with me is to be my Fazio;
let us hope he will know some of his words to-
morrow night, for he is at present most innocent
of any such knowledge. After rehearsal, walked
into a shop to buy some gauze: the shopman
called me by my name, entered into conversation
with us ,* and one of them, after showing me a
variety of things which I did not want, said, that
they were most anxious to show me every attention,
and render my stay in this country agreeable. A
Christian, I suppose, would have met these bene-
volent advances with an infinitude of thankfulness,
and an outpouring of grateful pleasure; but for
my own part, though I had the grace to smile and
say, “ Thank you,” I longed to add, “ but be so
good as to measure your ribands, and hold your
tongue.” I have no idea of holding parley with112
JOURNAL.
clerks behind a counter, still less of their doing so
with me. So much for my first impression of the
courtesy of this land of liberty. I should have
been much better pleased if they had called me
“ Ma’am,” which they did not. We dined at
three. V------- and Colonel ------- called after
dinner. At seven, went to the theatre. It was my
dear father’s first appearance in this new world,
and my heart ached with anxiety. The weather
was intensely hot, yet the theatre was crowded :
when he came on, they gave him what every body
here calls -an immense reception; but they should
see our London audience get up, and wave hats
and handkerchiefs, and shout welcome as they do
to us. The tears were in my eyes, and all I could
say was, 6t They might as well get up, I think.”
My father looked well, and acted beyond all praise;
but oh, what a fine and delicate piece of work this
is ! There is not one sentence, line, or word of this
part which my father has not sifted grain by grain;
there is not one scene or passage to which he does
not give its fullest and most entire substance, toge-
ther with a variety that relieves the intense study
of the whole with wonderful effect. *	*
# # # # #
# # # # #
I think that it is impossible to conceive HamletJOURNAL.
113
more truly, or execute it more exquisitely than
he does. The refinement, the tenderness, the
grace, dignity, and princely courtesy with which
he invests it from beginning to end, are most
lovely ; and some of the slighter passages, which,
like fine tints to the incapable eyes of blindness,
must always pass unnoticed, and, of course,
utterly uncomprehended, by the discriminating
public, enchanted me.	*	*	*
# # # # #
# * # # #
His voice was weak from nervousness and the
intolerable heat of the weather, and he was not
well dressed, which was a pity. *	*
# # % # #
# # # # #
The play was well got up, and went off very well.
The------were there, a regiment of them; also
Colonel-----and Captain-------. After the play,
came home to supper.
Tuesday, 18^.
Rose at eight. At eleven, went to rehearsal. Mr.
Keppel is just as nervous and as imperfect as
ever: what on earth will he, or shall I, do to-
night! Came home, got things out for the114
JOURNAL.
theatre, and sat like any stroller stitching for dear
life at my head-dress. Mr. H--------and his ne-
phew called: the latter asked me if I was at all
apprehensive ? No, by my troth, I am not; and
that not because I feel sure of success, for I
think it very probable the Yankees may like to
show their critical judgment and independence by
damning me; but because, thank God, I do not
care whether they do or not: the whole thing is
too loathsome to me, for either failure or success
to affect me in the least, and therefore I feel nei-
ther nervous nor anxious about it. We dined at
three: after dinner, J-----came; he sat some
time. When he was gone, I came into the draw-
ing-room, and found a man sitting with my father,
who presented him to me by some inaudible name.
I sat down, and the gentleman pursued his con-
versation as follows: — “ When Clara Fisher came
over, Barry wrote to me about her, and I wrote
him back word : ‘ My dear fellow, if your bella
donna is such as you describe, why, we ’ll see what
we can do; we will take her by the hand/ ” This
was enough for me. I jumped up, and ran out of
the room; because a newspaper writer is my aver-
sion. At half-past six, went to the theatre. They
acted the farce of Popping the Question first, in
order, I suppose, to get the people to their placesJOURNAL,
115
before the play began. Poor Mr. Keppel was
gasping for breath; he moved my compassion
infinitely; I consoled and comforted him all I
could, gave him some of my lemonade to swallow,
for he was choking with fright; sat myself down
with my back to the audience, and up went the cur-
tain. Owing to the position in which I was sitting,
and my plain dress, most unheroine-like in its make
and colour, the people did not know me, and
would not have known me for some time, if that
stupid man had done as I kept bidding him, gone
on; but instead of doing so, he stood stock still,
looked at me, and then at the audience, where-
upon the latter caught an inkling of the truth,
and gave me such a reception as I get in Covent
Garden theatre every time I act a new part. The
house was very full; all the-----were there, and
Colonel------. Mr. Keppel was frightened to
death, and in the very second speech was quite
out: it was in vain that I prompted him; he was
too nervous to take the word, and made a com-
plete mess of it. This happened more than once
in the first scene; and at the end of the first act,
as I left the stage, I said to D---, “ It’s all up
with me, I can’t do any thing now; ” for having to
prompt my Fazio, frightened by his fright, an-
noyed by his forgetting his crossings and posi-116
JOURNAL.
tions, utterly unable to work myself into any thing
like excitement, I thought the whole thing must
necessarily go to pieces. However, once rid of
my encumbrance, which I am at the end of the
second act, I began to move a little more freely,
gathered up my strength, and set to work com-
fortably by myself; whereupon, the people ap-
plauded, I warmed, (warmed, quotha? the air was
steam,) and got through very satisfactorily, at least
so it seems. My dresses were very beautiful; but
oh, but oh, the musquitoes had made dreadful
havoc with my arms, which were covered with
hills as large and red as Vesuvius in an eruption.
After the play, my father introduced me to Mr.
B------, Lord S------’s brother, who was behind
the scenes; his brother’s place, by the by. Came
home, supped. *	*	#	*
# # # # #
# # # # #
Came to bed at half past twelve; weary, and half
melted away. The ants swarm on the floors, on
the tables, in the beds, about one’s clothes; the
plagues of Egypt were a joke to them: horrible !
it makes one’s life absolutely burdensome, to
have creatures creeping about one, and all over
one, night and day, this fashion; to say nothing
of those cantankerous stinging things, the mus-
quitoes.JOURNAL.
117
Wednesday 19th.
D------did not call me till ten o’clock, whereat I
was in furious dudgeon. Got up, breakfasted, and
off to rehearsal; Romeo and Juliet. Mr. Keppel
has been dismissed, poor man ! I’m sorry for him :
my father is to play Romeo with me, I’m sorrier
still for that. After rehearsal, came home, dawdled
about my room: Mr.--------called: he is particularly
fond of music. My father asked him to try the
piano, which he accordingly did, and was playing
most delightfully, when in walked Mr.---------, and
by and by Colonel---------, with his honour the Re-
corder, and General-------of the militia. I amused
myself with looking over some exquisite brown silk
stockings, wherewith I mean to match my gown.
When they were all gone, dawdled about till time
to dress. So poor dear H---------can’t come from
Philadelphia for our dinner — dear, I’m quite
sorry! At five our party assembled: we were
but thin in numbers, and the half empty table,
together with the old ship faces, made it look, as
some one observed, as if it was blowing hard. Our
dinner was neither good nor well served, the wine
not half iced. At the end of it, my father gave
Captain------his claret jug, wherewith that worthy
seemed much satisfied.	*	*118
JOURNAL.
We left the table soon; came and wrote jour-
nal. When the gentlemen joined us, they were
all more or less “ how corn’d you so indeed ? ”
Mr.-------and Mr. —------particularly. They put
me down to the piano, and once or twice I
thought I must have screamed. On one side
vibrated dear Mr.------, threatening my new gown
with a cup of coffee, which he held at an awful
angle from the horizontal line; singing with every
body who opened their lips, and uttering such
dreadfully discordant little squeals and squeaks,
that I thought I should have died of suppressed
laughter. On the other side, rather concerned, but
not quite so much so, stood the Irishman; who,
though warbling a little out of tune, and flourish-
ing somewhat luxuriantly, still retained enough of
his right senses to discriminate between Mr.----’s
yelps and singing, properly so called; and ac-
cordingly pished ! — and pshawed ! — and oh
Lorded ! — and good heavened ! away, — staring
at the perpetrator with indignant horror through
his spectacles, while his terrified wig stood on end
in every direction, each particular hair appearing
vehemently possessed with the centrifugal force.
They all went away in good time, and we came
to bed.JOURNAL.
119
---- To bed — to sleep —
To sleep!—perchance to be bitten! ay—there’s the scratch :
And in that sleep of ours what bugs may come,
Must give us pause.
Thursday, 9.0th.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, went to rehearse
Romeo and Juliet. Poor Mr. Keppel is fairly
laid on the shelf; Pm sorry for him ! What a
funny passion he had, by the by, for going down
upon his knees. In Fazio, at the end of the
judgment scene, when I was upon mine, down he
went upon his, making the most absurd, devout
looking vis-a-vis I ever beheld: in the last scene,
too, when he ought to have been going off to
execution, down he went again upon his knees,
and no power on earth could get him up again,
for Lord knows how long. Poor fellow, he
bothered me a good deal, yet 19m sincerely sorry
for him. At the end of our rehearsal, came
home. The weather is sunny, sultry, scorching,
suffocating. Ah ! Mr.---------- called. This is an
indifferent imitation of bad fine manners amongst
us; te he speaks small, too, like a gentleman.’*
He sat for a long time, talking over the opera,
and all the prima donnas in the world. When he
was gone, Mr.--------and Mr. -------called. #120
JOURNAL.
The latter asked us to dinner to-morrow, to meet
Dr.------, who, poor man, dares neither go to the
play nor call upon us, so strict are the good people
here about the behaviour of their pastors and
masters. By the by, Essex called this morning
to fetch away the Captain’s claret jug: he asked
my father for an order; adding, with some hesi-
tation, “ It must be for the gallery, if you please,
sir, for people of colour are not allowed to go to
the pit, or any other part of the house.” I believe
I turned black myself, I was so indignant. Here’s
aristocracy with a vengeance! -------- called with
Forrest, the American actor. Mr. Forrest has
rather a fine face, I think. We dined at three :
after dinner, wrote journal, played on the piano,
and frittered away my time till half-past six.
Went to the theatre: the house was very full,
and dreadfully hot. My father acted Romeo
beautifully: I looked very nice, and the people
applauded my gorni abundantly. At the end of
the play I was half dead with heat and fatigue:
came home and supped, lay down on the floor in
absolute meltiness away, and then came to bed.JOURNAL.
121
Friday, 21 si.
Rose at eight. After breakfast went to re-
hearsal. The School for Scandal; Sir Peter, I
see, keeps his effects to himself; what a bore this
is, to be sure! Got out things for the theatre.
While eating my lunch, Mr.--------and his cousin,
a Mr.------- (one of the cleverest lawyers here),
called	*	*	#	*
*	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
They were talking of Mr. Keppel. By the by,
of that gentleman; Mr. Simpson sent me this
morning, for my decision, a letter from Mr. Keppel,
soliciting another trial, and urging the hardness
of his case, in being condemned upon a part
which he had had no time to study. My own
opinion of poor Mr. Keppel is, that no power on
earth or in heaven can make him act decently ;
however, of course, I did not object to his trying
again; he did not swamp me the first night, so I
don’t suppose he will the fifth. We dined at
five. Just before dinner, received a most delicious
bouquet, which gladdened my very heart with its
sweet smell and lovely colours: some of the
flowers were strangers to me. After dinner,
VOL. I.	G122
JOURNAL.
Colonel------called, and began pulling out heaps
of newspapers, and telling us a long story about
Mr. Keppel, who, it seems, has been writing to
the papers, to convince them and the public that
he is a good actor, at the same time throwing out
sundry hints, which seem aimed our way, of in-
justice, oppression, hard usage, and the rest on’t.
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Mr.-------called to offer to ride with me; when,
however, the question of a horse was canvassed,
he knew of none, and Colonel--------’s whole regi-
ment of “ beautiful ladies’ horses” had also
neither a local habitation nor a name.	*
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
When they were gone, went to the theatre; the
house was very good, the play, the School for
Scandal. I played pretty fairly, and looked very
nice. The people were stupid to a degree, to be
sure; poor things ! it was very hot. Indeed, I
scarce understand how they should be amused
with the School for Scandal; for though the dra-
matic situations are so exquisite, yet the wit is
far above the generality of even our own audiences,
and the tone and manners altogether are so tho-
roughly English, that I should think it must be forJOURNAL.
123
the most part incomprehensible to the good people
here. After the play, came home. Colonel S-------
supped with us, and renewed the subject of Mr.
Keppel and the theatre. My father happened
to say, referring to a passage in that worthy’s letter
to the public, “ I shall certainly enquire of Mr.
Keppel why he has so used my nameto which
Colonel S------replied, as usual, “ No, now let
me advise, let me beg you, Mr. Kemble, just to
remain quiet, and leave all this to me.” This was
too much for mortal woman to bear. I imme-
diately said, 66 Not at all: it is my father’s affair,
if any body’s; and he alone has the right to
demand any explanation, or make any observation
on the subject; and were I he, I certainly should
do so, and that forthwith.” I could hold no
longer.	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Came to bed in tremendous dudgeon. The few
critiques that I have seen upon our acting, have
been, upon the whole, laudatory. One was sent
to me from a paper called The Mirror, which
pleased me very much; not because the praise in
it was excessive, and far beyond my deserts, but
that it was written with great taste and feeling,
and was evidently not the produce of a common
Q 2124
JOURNAL.
press hack. There appeared to me in all the
others the true provincial dread of praising too
much, and being led into approbation by previous
opinions; a sort of jealousy of critical freedom,
which, together with the established nil admirari
of the press, seems to keep them in a constant
dread of being thought enthusiastic. They need
not be afraid: enthusiasm may belong to such
analysis as Schlegel’s or Channing’s, but has
nothing in common with the paragraphs of a
newspaper; the inditers of which, in my poor
judgment, seldom go beyond the very threshold
of criticism, i. e. the discovery of faults. I am
infinitely amused at the extreme curiosity which
appears to me to be the besetting sin of the people
here. A gentleman whom you know (as for
instance, in my case,) very slightly, will sit down
by your table during a morning visit, turn over
every article upon it, look at the cards of the
various people who have called upon you, ask half-
a-dozen questions about each of them, as many
about your own private concerns, and all this, as
though it were a matter of course that you should
answer him, which I feel greatly inclined occa-
sionally not to do.JOURNAL.
125
Saturday, 22d.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, dawdled about
till near one o’clock : got into a hackney coach *
with D-, and returned all manner of cards.
*****
*****
Went into a shop to order a pair of shoes. The
shopkeepers in this place, with whom I have
hitherto had to deal, are either condescendingly
familiar, or insolently indifferent in their manner.
Your washerwoman sits down before you, while
you are standing speaking to her; and a shop-boy
bringing things for your inspection, not only sits
down, but keeps his hat on in your drawing-
room. The worthy man to whom I went for my
shoes was so amazingly ungracious, that at first
* The hackney coaches in this country are very different
from those perilous receptacles of dust and dirty straw,
which disgrace the London stands. They are comfort-
able within, and clean without; and the horses harnessed
to them never exhibit those shocking specimens of cruelty
and ill usage which the poor hack horses in London pre-
sent. Indeed (and it is a circumstance which deserves
notice, for it bespeaks general character,) I have not seen,
during a two years* residence in this country, a single in-
stance of brutality towards animals, such as one is compelled
to witness hourly in the streets of any English town.
G 3126
JOURNAL.
I thought I would go out of the shop; but recol-
lecting that I should probably only go farther and
fare worse, I gulped, sat down, and was measured.
All this is bad: it has its origin in a vulgar mis-
apprehension, which confounds ill breeding with
independence, and leads people to fancy that they
elevate themselves above their condition by dis-
charging its duties and obligations disco urte-
ously. f		#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#		#
Came home: wrote journal, practised, dressed
for dinner. At five, went into our neighbour’s:
Dr.-------, the rector of Grace Church, was the
only stranger. I liked him extremely : he sat by
me at dinner, and I thought his conversation stiff-
f There is a striking difference in this respect between the
trades-people of New York and those of Boston and Phila-
delphia; and in my opinion the latter preserve quite self-
respect enough to acquit their courtesy and civility from any
charge of servility. The only way in which I can account
for the difference, is the greater impulse which trade receives
in New York, the proportionate rapidity with which fortunes
are made, the ever-shifting materials of which its society is
composed, and the facility with which the man who has
served you behind his counter, having amassed an independ-
ence, assumes a station in the first circle, where his in-
fluence becomes commensurate with his wealth. This is not
the case either in Boston or Philadelphia; at least, not to
the same degree.JOURNAL*
127
ficiently clever, with an abundance of goodness,
and liberal benevolent feeling shining through it.
We retired to our room, where Mrs.--------made
me laugh extremely with sundry passages of her
American experiences. I was particularly amused
with her account of their stopping, after a long
day’s journey* at an inn somewhere, when the
hostess, who remained in the room the whole
time, addressed her as follows: 66 D’ ye play ?91
pointing to an open piano-forte. Mrs.--------re-
plied that she did so sometimes; whereupon the
free and easy landlady ordered candles, and
added, “ Come, sit down and give us a tune,
then; ” to which courteous and becoming invita-
tion Mrs.------replied by taking up her candle,
and walking out of the room. The pendant to
this is Mr.------’s story. He sent a die of his
crest to a manufacturer to have it put upon his
gig harness. The man sent home the harness,
when it was finished, but without the die; after
sending for which sundry times, Mr.-------called
to enquire after it himself, when the reply was : —
“ Lord ! why I did’nt know you wanted it.”
“ I tell you, I wish to have it back.”
“ Oh, pooh ! you can’t want it much, now —
do you?”
6 4128
JOURNAL.
66 I tell you, sir, I desire to have the die back
immediately.”
“ Ah well, come now, what’ll you take for it?”
“ D’ye think I mean to sell my crest ? why you
might as well ask me to sell my name.”
“ Why you see, a good many folks have seen
it, and want to have it on their harness, as it’s a
pretty looking concern enough.”
So much for their ideas of a crest. This,
though, by the by, happened some years ago.
After the gentlemen joined us, my father made
me sing to them, which I did with rather a bad
grace,	as I	don’t think any body wished to hear
me but himself.	#	*	*	*
#	#	#	#	%
#	#	#	#	#
Dr.----- is perfectly enchanting. They left us
at about eleven. Came to bed.
Sunday, 23 d.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, went to church
with D-------. There is no such thing, I perceive,
as a pew-opener; so, after standing sufficiently
long in the middle of the church, we established
ourselves very comfortably in a pew, where we
remained unmolested. The day was most lovely,JOURNAL.
129
and my eyes were constantly attracted to the
church windows, through which the magnificent
willows of the burial-ground looked like golden-
green fountains rising into the sky. #	*
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	%	#	#
The singing in church was excellent, and Dr.
-----’s sermon very good, too: he wants stern-
ness ; but that is my particular fancy about a
clergyman, and by most people would be accounted
no want. It was not sacrament Sunday ; D---------
was disappointed, and I mistaken. Mr. -----------
walked home with us. After church, wrote jour-
nal. ------called, and sat with us during dinner,
telling us stories of the Hogging of slaves, as he
himself had witnessed it in the south, that forced
the colour into my face, the tears into my eyes,
and strained every muscle in my body with
positive rage and indignation : he made me per-
fectly sick with it. When he was gone, my
father went to Colonel -------’s. I played all
through Mr. -------’s edition of Cinderella, and
then wrote three long letters, which kept me up
till nearly one o’clock. Oh, bugs, fleas, flies, ants,
and musquitoes, great is the misery you inflict
upon me! I sit slapping my own face all day,
and lie thumping my pillow all night: ’t is a per-
Gr 5130
JOURNAL#
feet nuisance to be devoured of creatures before
one’s in the ground; it isn’t fair. Wrote to Mr.
-----, to ask if he would ride with me on Tuesday.
I am dying to be on horseback again.	*
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Monday, 2 kth.
Rose at eight: went and took a bath. After
breakfast, went to rehearsal: Venice Preserved,
with Mr. Keppel, who did not appear to me to know
the words even, and seemed perfectly bewildered
at being asked to do the common business of the
piece. “ Mercy on me ! what will he do to-
night ?” thought I. Came home and got things
ready for the theatre. Received a visit from poor
Mr.-------, who has got the lumbago, as Sir Peter
would say, “ on purpose,” I believe, to prevent
my riding out to-morrow. Dined at three: after
dinner, played and sang through Cinderella; wrote
journal: at six, went to the theatre. My gown
was horribly ill-plaited, and I looked like a blue-
bag. The house was very full, and they received
Mr. K-------with acclamations and shouts of ap-
plause. When I went on, I was all but tumbling
down at the sight of my Jaffier, who looked likeJOURNAL.
131
the apothecary in Romeo and Juliet, with the
addition of some devilish red slashes along his
thighs and arms. The first scene passed well and
so: but, oh, the next, and the next, and the next
to that. Whenever he was not glued to my side
(and that was seldom), he stood three yards be-
hind me ; he did nothing but seize my hand, and
grapple to it so hard, that unless I had knocked
him down (whichl felt much inclined to try), Icould
not disengage myself. In the senate scene, when
I was entreating for mercy, and struggling, as
Otway has it, for my life, he was prancing round
the stage in every direction, flourishing his dagger
in the air: I wish to Heaven I had got up and
run away; it would but have been natural, and
have served him extremely right. In the parting
scene, — oh what a scene it was ! — instead of
going away from me when he said “ farewell for
ever,” he stuck to my skirts, though in the same
breath that I adjured him, in the words of my
part, not to leave me, I added, aside, “ Get away
from me, oh do l” When I exclaimed, “ Not
one kiss at parting,” he kept embracing and kiss-
ing me like mad; and when I ought to have been
pursuing him, and calling after him, “ Leave thy
dagger with me,” he hung himself up against the
wing, and remained dangling there for five
g 6132
JOURNAL.
minutes. I was half crazy ! and the good people
sat and swallowed it all: they deserved it, by my
troth, they did. I prompted him constantly, and
once, after struggling in vain to free myself from
him, was obliged, in the middle of my part, to
exclaim, “ You hurt me dreadfully, Mr. Keppel!”
He clung to me, cramped me, crumpled me, —
dreadful! I never experienced any thing like
this before, and made up my mind that I never
would again. I played of course like a wretch,
finished my part as well as I could, and, as soon
as the play was over, went to my father and Mr.
Simpson, and declared to them both my determin-
ation not to go upon the stage again, with that
gentleman for a hero. Three trials are as many
as, in reason, any body can demand, and come
what come may, I will not be subjected to this sort
of experiment again. At the end of the play, the
clever New Yorkians actually called for Mr.
Keppel ! and this most worthless clapping of
hands, most worthlessly bestowed upon such a
worthless object, is what, by the nature of my
craft, I am bound to care for; I spit at it from
the bottom of my soul! Talking of applause, the
man who acted Bedamar to-night thought fit to
be two hours dragging me off the stage; in con-
sequence of which I had to scream, “ Jaffier,JOURNAL.
133
Jaffier,” till I thought I should have broken a
blood-vessel. On my remonstrating with him upon
this, he said, “ Well, you are rewarded, listen
the people were clapping and shouting vehe-
mently: this is the whole history of acting and
actors. We came home tired, and thoroughly
disgusted, and found no supper. The cooks, who
do not live in the house, but come and do their
work, and depart home whenever it suits their
convenience, had not thought proper to stay to
prepare any supper for us : so we had to wait for
the readiest things that could be procured out of
doors for us — this was pleasant # — very ! At
* The universal hour of dining, in New York, when first
we arrived, was three o’clock; after which hour the cooks
took their departure, and nothing was to be obtained fit to
eat, either for love or money: this intolerable nuisance is
gradually passing away; but even now, though we can get
our dinner served at six o’clock, it is always dressed at
three; its excellence may be imagined from that. To say the
truth, I think the system upon which all houses of public en-
tertainment are conducted in this country is a sample of the
patience and long-suffering with which dirt, discomfort, and
exorbitant charges may be borne by a whole community,
without resistance, or even remonstrance. The best excep-
tions I could name to these various inconveniences are, first,
Mr. Cozzen’s establishment at West Point; next, the Tre-
mont at Boston, and, lastly, the Mansion House at Phila-
delphia. In each of these, wayfarers may obtain some
portion of decent comfort: but they have their drawbacks;134.
JOURNAL.
last appeared a cold boiled fowl, and some mon-
strous oysters, that looked for all the world like
an antediluvian race of oysters, “ for in those days
there were giants.” Six mouthfuls each: they
were well-flavoured; but their size displeased my
eye, and I swallowed but one, and came to bed.
Friday, 28th.
A letter from England, the first from dear---.
D----- brought it me while I was dressing, and
oh, how welcome, how welcome it was !	*
# # # # #
After breakfast went to rehearsal: Much Ado
about Nothing. Came home, wrote journal, put
out things for the theatre, dined at three. After
dinner,-----called.
in the first, there are no private sitting rooms; and in the
last, the number of servants is inadequate to the work. The
Tremont is by far the best establishment of the sort existing
at present. Mr. A--------, the millionaire of New York, is
about to remedy this deficiency, by the erection of a magni-
ficent hotel in Broadway. One thing, however, is certain;
neither he nor any one else will ever succeed in having a de-
cent house, if the servants are not a little superior to the
Irish savages who officiate in that capacity in most houses,
public and private, in the northern states of America.JOURNAL.
135
*	#	#	#	*
*	*	#	#	#
Mr.------- called, and sat with us till six o’clock.
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
I constantly sit thunderstruck at the amazing num-
ber of unceremonious questions which people here
think fit to ask one, and, moreover, expect one to
answer. Went to the theatre; the house was
not good. The Italians were expected to sing
for the first time; they did not, however, but in
the mean time thinned our house.
I would give the world to see Mr. — direct-
ing the public taste, by an oeiliad, and leading the
public approbation, by a gracious tapping of his
supreme hand upon his ineffable snuff-box; he
reminds me of high life below stairs. The play
went off very well; I played well, and my dresses
looked beautiful; my father acted to perfection.
I never saw any thing so gallant, gay, so like a
gentleman, so full of brilliant, buoyant, refined
spirit; he looked admirably, too. Mr.------ was
behind the scenes: speaking to me of my father’s
appearance in Pierre, he said he reminded him of
Lord------. I could not forbear asking him how
long he had been away from England : he replied,
four years. Truly, four years will furnish him136
JOURNAL.
matter of astonishment when he returns. Swal-
low Street is grown into a line of palaces; the
Strand is a broad magnificent avenue, where all
the wealth of the world seems gathered together;
and Lord------, the u observed of all observers,”
is become a red-faced, fat old man. “ Och,
Time ! can’t ye be aisy now ! ”
Sunday, 30th.
Rose late, did not go to church; sat writing
letters all the morning. Mr.--------and Mr.-------
called. What a character that Mr. ----------- is.
Colonel ------- called, and wanted to take my
father out; but we were all inditing epistles to go
to-morrow by the dear old Pacific. At three
o’clock, went to church with Mrs. ------ and Mr.
------. I like Dr.------- most extremely. His
mild, benevolent, Christian view of the duties
and blessings of life is very delightful; and the
sound practical doctrine he preaches “ good for
edification.”	*	*	*	*
# # # # #
It poured with rain, but they sent a coach for us
from the inn; came home, dressed for dinner.
D-----and I dined tete-a-tete. After dinner, sat
writing letters for Mr.-----’s bag till ten o’clock :JOURNAL.
137
came to my own room, undressed, and began a
volume to dear-------.	*	*	*
#	#	#	#	*
#	#	#	#	#
I did not get	to	bed till	three	o’clock	: in	spite	of
all which I am as fat as an overstuffed pincushion.
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Select specimens of American pronunciation : —
vaggaries,	vagaries,
ad infinnitum,	ad infinitem.
vitupperate,	vituperate.
Monday, October ls£.
While I was out, Captain--------- called for our
letters. Saw Mr.---------, and bade him good-by:
they are going away to-day to Havre, to Europe;
I wish I was a nail in one of their trunks. After
breakfast, went to rehearse King John: what a
lovely mess they will make of it, to be sure.
When my sorrows were ended, my father brought
me home: found a most lovely nosegay from Mr.
-----awaiting me. Bless it! how sweet it smelt,
and how pretty it looked. Spent an hour delight-
fully in putting it into water. Got things ready
for to-night, practised till dinner, and wrote1S8
JOURNAL.
journal. My father received a letter to-day, in-
forming him that a cabal was forming by the
friends of Miss Vincent and Miss Clifton (native
talent!) to hiss us off the New York stage, if pos-
sible; if not, to send people in every night to
create a disturbance during our best scenes: the
letter is anonymous, and therefore little deserving
of attention. After dinner, practised till time to
go to the theatre. The house was very full; but
what a cast! what a play ! what botchers ! what
butchers ! In his very first scene, the most Chris-
tian king stuck fast; and there he stood, shifting
his truncheon from hand to hand, rolling his eyes,
gasping for breath, and struggling for words,
like a man in the night-mare. I thought of
Hamlet —“ Leave thy damnable faces”—and was
obliged to turn away. In the scene before An-
giers, when the French and English heralds sum-
mon the citizens to the walls, the Frenchman
applied his instrument to his mouth, uplifted his
chest, distended his cheeks, and appeared to blow
furiously ; not a sound ! he dropped his arm, and
looked off the stage in discomfiture and indig-
nation, when the perverse trumpet set up a blast
fit to waken the dead, — the audience roared: it
reminded me of the harp in the old ballad, thatJOURNAL.
159
w began to play alone.” Chatillon, on his return
from England, begged to assure us that with
King John was come the mother queen, an Anty
stirring him to blood and war. When Cardinal
Pandulph came on, the people set up a shout,
as usual: he was dreadfully terrified, poor thing;
and all the time he spoke kept giving little ner-
vous twitches to his sacred petticoat, in a fashion
that was enough to make one die of laughter.
He was as obstinate, too, in his bewilderment as
a stuttering man in his incoherency; for once, when
he stuck fast, having twitched his skirts, and
thumped his breast in vain for some time, I
thought it best, having to speak next, to go on;
when, lo and behold! in the middle of my speech,
the “ scarlet sin ” recovers his memory, and shouts
forth the end of his own, to the utter confusion of
my august self and the audience. I thought they
never would have got through my last scene:
king gazed at cardinal, and cardinal gazed at
king; king nodded and winked at the prompter,
spread out his hands, and remained with his
mouth open: cardinal nodded and winked at the
prompter, crossed his hands on his breast, and
remained with his mouth open; neither of them
uttering a syllable! What a scene! O, what a140
JOURNAL.
glorious scene ! Came home as soon as my part
was over. Supped, and sat up for my father.
Heard his account of the end, and came to bed.#
Wednesday, Sd.
Rose late. After breakfast, went to rehearsal:
what a mess I do make of Bizarre ! Ellen Tree
and Mrs. Chatterly were angels to what I shall be,
yet I remember thinking them both bad enough.
After all, if people generally did but know the
difficulty of doing well, they would be less damna-
tory upon those who do ill. It is not easy to act
well. After rehearsal, went to Stewart’s with
D------. As we were proceeding up Broadway
* It is fortunate for the managers of the Park Theatre,
and very unfortunate for the citizens of New York, that the
audiences who frequent that place of entertainment are
chiefly composed of the strangers who are constantly passing
in vast numbers through this city. It is not worth the while
of the management to pay a good company, when an indif-
ferent one answers their purpose quite as well: the system
upon which theatrical speculations are conducted in this
country is, having one or two “stars” for the principal cha-
racters, and nine or ten sticks for all the rest. The conse-
quence is, that a play is never decently acted, and at such
times as stars are scarce, the houses are very deservedly
empty. The terrestrial audiences suffer much by this mode
of getting up plays; but the celestial performers, the stars
propped upon sticks, infinitely more.JOURNAL.
141
to Bonfanti’s*, I saw a man in the strangest atti-
tude imaginable, absolutely setting at us: presently
he pounced, and who should it be but ■— ■. He
came into Bonfanti’s with us, and afterwards in-
sisted on escorting us to our various destinations;
not, however, without manifold and deep lament-
ations on his slovenly appearance and dirty gloves.
The latter, however, he managed to exchange
chemin Jaisant for a pair of new ones, which he
extracted from his pocket and drew on, without
letting go our arms, which he squeezed most un-
mercifully during the operation. We went through
a part of the town which I had never seen before.
The shops have all a strange fair-like appearance,
and exhibit a spectacle of heterogeneous disorder,
which greatly amazes the eye of a Londoner. The
comparative infancy in which most of the adorn-
ments of life are yet in this country, renders it
impossible for the number of distinct trades to
exist, that do among us, where the population is
so much denser, and where the luxurious indul-
gences of the few find ample occupation for the
penurious industry of the many. But here, one
man drives several trades; and in every shop you
meet with a strange incongruous mixture of articles
* Stewart — Bonfanti. The name of shopkeepers in Broad-
way : the former’s is the best shop in New York.JOURNAL.
142
for sale, which would be found nowhere in England,
but in the veriest village huckster's. Comparatively
few of the objects for sale can be exposed in the
windows, which are unlike our shop windows,
narrow and ill adapted for the display of goods :
but piles of them lie outside the doors, choking up
the pathway, and coloured cloths, flannels, shawls,
&c., are suspended about in long draperies, whose
vivid colours flying over the face of the houses
give them an untidy, but at the same time a gay,
flaunting appearance. We went into a shop to
buy some stockings, and missing our preux che-
valier , I turned round to look for him; when I
perceived him beautifying most busily before a
glass in a further corner of the shop. He had
seized on a sort of house brush, and began brooming
his hat: the next operation was to produce a small
pocket comb and arrange his disordered locks;
lastly, he transferred the services of the brush of
all work from his head to his feet, and having
dusted his boots, drawn himself up in his surtout,
buttoned its two lower buttons, and given a re
forming grasp to his neckcloth, he approached us,
evidently much advanced in his own good graces.
We went to the furrier's, and brought away my
dark boa. Came home, put out things for packing
up, and remained so engaged till time to dress forJOURNAL.
143
dinner. Mr. and Mrs.-and Mr.-dined
with us.
*****
*****
Mr.-is an Englishman of the high breed,
and sufficiently pleasant. After dinner we had to
withdraw into our bed-room, for the house is so
full that they can’t cram any thing more into an
inch of it.
Joined the gentlemen at tea. Mr.-had
gone to the theatre: Mr. - ■ and I had some
music. He plays delightfully, and knows every
note of music that ever was written; but he had the
barbarity to make me sing a song of his own com-
posing to him, which is a cruel thing in a man to
do. He went away at about eleven, and we then
came to bed. My father went to see Miss Clifton,
at the Bowery theatre.
Thursday, 4?th.
Rose late. After breakfast, went to rehearsal: my
Bizarre is getting a little more into shape. After
rehearsal, came home. Mr.-----------and Mr. - —
called, and sat some time with me. The former
is tolerably pleasant, but a little too fond of telling
good stories that he has told before. Put out thingsJOURNAL.
144
for the theatre: dined at three. Colonel --------
called. Wrote journal: while doing so, was called
out to look at my gown, which the worthy milliner
had sent home.
I am, I am an angel! Witness it, heaven !
Witness it earth, and every being witness it!
The gown was spoiPd I Yet by immortal patience
I did not even fly into a passion.
She took it back to alter it. Presently arrived my
wreath, and that had also to be taken back; for
’t was nothing like what I had ordered. Now all
this does not provoke me; but the thing that does,
is the dreadful want of manners of the trades-people
here. They bolt into your room without knocking,
nod to you, sit down, and without the preface of
either Sir, Ma’am, or Miss, start off into “ Well
now, I’m come to speak about so and so.” At six,
went to the theatre; play, the Hunchback: the
house was crammed from floor to ceiling. I had
an intense headache, but played tolerably well. I
wore my red satin, and looked like a bonfire. Came
home and found Smith’s Virginia, and two volumes
of Graham’s America, which I want to read. They
charge twelve dollars for these: every thing is
horribly dear here. Came to bed with my head
splitting.JOURNAL.
145
Friday, 5th.
Played Bizarre for the first time. Acted so-so,
looked very pretty, the house was very fine, and
my father incomparable : they called for him after
the play. Colonel------and Mr.--------called in
while we were at supper.
Saturday, 6th.
Rose late: when I came in to breakfast, found
Colonel------sitting in the parlour. He remained
for a long time, and we had sundry discussions on
topics manifold. It seems that the blessed people
here were shocked at my having to hear the coarse-
ness of Farquhar’s Inconstant — humbug ! f *
* # # # #
* Were the morality that I constantly hear uttered a little
more consistent, not only with right reason, but with itself,
I think it might be more deserving of attention and respect.
But the mock delicacy, which exists to so great a degree
with regard to theatrical exhibitions, can command neither
the one nor the other. To those who forbid all dramatic
representations, as exhibitions of an unhealthy tendency
upon our intellectual and moral nature, I have no objec-
tions, at present, to make. Unqualified condemnation, par-
ticularly when adopted on such grounds, may be a sincere, a
respectable, perhaps a right, opinion. I have but one reply
to offer to it: the human mind requires recreation; is not a
theatre, (always supposing it to be, not what theatres too
VOL. I.
H346
JOURNAL.
At twelve, went out shopping, and paying bills;
called upon Mrs.------, and sat some time with
often are, but what they ought to be,) is not a theatre a bet-
ter, a higher, a more noble, and useful place of recreation
than a billiard-room, or the bar of a tavern ? Perhaps in
the course of the moral and intellectual improvement of
mankind, all these will give way to yet purer and more re-
fined sources of recreation; but in the mean time, I confess,
with its manifold abuses, a play-house appears to me worthy
of toleration, if not of approbation, as holding forth (when
directed as it should be) a highly intellectual, rational, and
refined amusement.
However, as I before said, my quarrel is not with those
who condemn indiscriminately all theatrical exhibitions;
they may be right: at all events, so sweeping a sentence
betrays no inconsistency. But what are we to say to indi-
viduals, or audiences, who turn with affected disgust from
the sallies of Bizarre and Beatrice, and who applaud and
laugh, and are delighted at the gross immorality of such plays
as the Wonder, and Rule a Wife and have a Wife; the latter
particularly, in which the immorality and indecency are not
those of expression only, but of conception, and mingle in
the whole construction of the piece, in which not one cha-
racter appears whose motives of action are not most un-
worthy, and whose language is not as full of coarseness, as
devoid of every generous, elevated, or refined sentiment.
(The tirades of Leon are no exception; for in the mouth of
a man who marries such a woman as Marguerita, by such
means, and for such an end, they are mere mockeries.) I
confess that my surprise was excited when 1 was told that an
American audience would not endure that portion of Bea-
trice’s wit, which the London censors have spared, and that
Othello was all but a proscribed play; but it was infinitelyJOURNAL*
147
her and Mrs.------; left a card at Mrs.----’s5
and came home, prepared things for our journey,
more so, when I found that the same audience tolerated, or
rather encouraged with their presence and applause, the
coarse production of Mrs. Centlivre and Beaumont and
Fletcher. With regard to the Inconstant, it is by far the
most moral of Farquhar’s plays; that, perhaps, is little
praise, for the Recruiting Officer, and the Beau’s Stratagem,
are decidedly the reverse. But in spite of the licentiousness
of the writing, in many parts, the construction, the motive,
the action of the play is not licentious; the characters are
far from being utterly debased in their conception, or de-
praved in the sentiments they utter (excepting, of course,
the companions of poor Mirable’s last revel); the women,
those surest criterions, by whose principles and conduct
may be formed the truest opinion of the purity of the social
atmosphere, the women, though free in their manners and
language, (it was the fashion of their times, and of the times
before them, when words did not pass for deeds, either good
or bad,) are essentially honest women; and Bizarre, coarse
as her expressions may appear, has yet more real delicacy
than poor Oriana, whose womanly love causes her too far to
forget her womanly pride. Of the catastrophe of this play,
and its frightfully pointed moral, little need be said to prove
that its effect is likely to be far more wholesome, because
far more homely, than that of most theatrical inventions; in-
vention, indeed, it is not, and its greatest interest, as perhaps
its chief utility, is drawn from the circumstance of its being
a faithful representation of a situation of unequalled horror,
in which the author himself was placed, and from which he
was rescued precisely as he extricates his hero. Of the
truth and satirical power of the dialogue, none who under-
stand it can dispute, and if, instead of attaching themselves
H 2148
JOURNAL,
and dressed for dinner. On our way to Mr.
-----’s, my father told me he had been seeing Miss
to the farcical romping of Bizarre and her ungallant lover,
the modest critics of this play had devoted some attention
to the dialogues between young and old Mirable, their nice
sense of decency would have been less shocked, and they
might have found themselves repaid by some of the most
pointed, witty, and pithy writing in the English dramatic
literature. I am much obliged to such of my friends as
lamented that I had to personate Farquhar’s impertinent
heroine; for my own good part, I would as lief be such an
one, as either Jane Shore, Mrs. Haller, Lady Macbeth, or
the wild woman Bianca. I know that great crimes have a
species of evil grandeur in them; they spring only from a
powerful soil, they are in their very magnitude respectable.
I know that mighty passions have in their very excess a
frightful majesty, that asserts the vigour of .the natures from
which they rise; and there is as little similarity between
them, and the base, degraded, selfish, cowardly tribe of petty
larceny vices with which human societies abound, as there is
between the caterpillar blight, that crawls over a fertile dis-
trict, gnawing it away inch-meal, and the thunderbolt that
scathes, or the earthquake that swallows the same region, in
its awful mission of destruction. But I maintain that free-
dom of expression and manner is by no means an indication
of laxity of morals, and again repeat that Bizarre is free in
her words, but not in her principles. The authoress of the
most graceful and true analysis of Shakspeare’s female cha-
racters has offered a better vindication of their manners
than I could write; I can only say, I pity sincerely all those
who, passing over the exquisite purity, delicacy, and loveli-
ness of their conception, dwell only upon modes of expres-
sion which belong to the times in which their great creatorJOURNAL.
149
Clifton, the girl they want him to teach to act; (to
teach to act, quotha ! ! !) he says, she is very pretty,
lived. With respect to the manner in which audiences are
affected by what they hear on the stage, I cannot but think
that gentlemen who wish their wives and daughters to hear
no language of an exceptionable nature, had better make
themselves acquainted with what they take them to see, or
at all events, avoid, when in the theatre, attracting their
attention to expressions which their disapprobation serves
only to bring into notice, and which had much better escape
unheard, or at least unheeded. Voluminous as this note
has become, I cannot but add one word with respect to the
members of the profession to which I have belonged. Many
actresses that I have known, in the performance of unvir-
tuous or unlovely characters, (I cannot,however,help remem-
bering that they were also secondary parts,) have thought
fit to impress the audience with the wide difference between
their assumed and real disposition, by acting as ill, and look-
ing as cross as they possibly could, which could not but be a
great satisfaction to any moral audience. I have seen this done
by that fine part in Milman’s Fazio, Aldabella, repeatedly,
and not unfrequently by the Queen in Hamlet, Margarita in
Rule a Wife and have a Wife, (I scarcely wonder at that,
though,) and even by poor Shakspeare’s Lady Falconbridge.
I think this is a mistake: the audience, I believe, never
forget that the actress is not indeed the wicked woman she
seems. In one instance that might have been the case,
perhaps. I speak of a great artist, whose efforts I never
witnessed, but whose private excellence I have a near right
to rejoice in, and who was as true in her performance of the
wretch Millwood, as in her personifications of Shakspeare’s
grandest creations.
H 3150
JOURNAL.
indeed, with fine eyes, a fair, delicate skin, and a
handsome mouth; moreover, a tall woman, and
yet from the front of the house her effect is nought.
What a pity, and a provoking ! A pleasant dinner,
very. Mr.-----the poet, one Dr.---, Colonel
----, and Mr.----: the only woman was a Miss
____ # # # #
#	*	#	*	#
#	#	#	#	#
----’s face reminded me of young ——: the coun-
tenance was not quite so good, but there was the
same radiant look about the eyes and forehead-
His expression was strongly sarcastic; I liked him
very much, notwithstanding. When we left the
men, we had the pleasure of the children’s society,
and that of an unhappy kitten, whom a little pitiless
urchin of three years old was carrying crumpled
under her arm like a pincushion. The people
here make me mad by abusing Lawrence’s drawing
of me. If ever there was a refined and intellectual
w ork, where the might of genius triumphing over
every material impediment has enshrined and
embodied spirit itself, it is that. Talking of Law-
rence, (poor Lawrence !) Mrs.--said, “ Ah,
yes ! your picture by—a—Sir—something—Law-
rence ! ” Oh, fame ! oh, fame ! Oh, vanity and
vexation of spirit! does your eternity and yourJOURNAL.
151
infinitude amount to this ? There are lands where
Shakspeare’s name was never heard, where Ra-
phael and Handel are unknown; to be sure, for
the matter of that, there are regions (and those
wide ones too) where Jesus Christ is unknown.
At nine o’clock, went to the Richmond Hill thea-
tre, to see the opening of the Italian company.
The house itself is a pretty little box enough, but
as bad as a box to sing in. We went to Mr.
-----’s box, where he was kind enough to give us
seats. The first act was over, but we had all the
benefit of the second. I had much ado not to
laugh ; and when Mr.------, that everlasting gigler,
came and sat down beside me, I gave myself up
for lost. However, I did behave in spite of two
blue bottles of women, who by way of the sisters
buzzed about the stage, singing enough to set one’s
teeth on edge. Then came a very tall Dandini;
by the by, that man had a good bass voice, but
Mr.-------said it was the finest he had heard since
Zucchelli. O tempora ! O mores ! Zucchelli, that
prince of delicious baritones ! However, as I said,
the man has a good bass voice; there was also a
sufficiently good Pompolino. Montresor banged
himself about, broke his time, and made some
execrable flourishes in the Prince, whereat the
enlightened New Yorkians applauded mightily.
h 4152
JOURNAL,
But the Prima Donna ! but the Cenerentola ! Cos-
petto di Venere, what a figure, and what a face !
Indeed she was the very thing for a lower house-
maid, and I think the Prince was highly to blame
for removing her from the station nature had evi-
dently intended her for. She was old and ugly,
and worse than ugly, unpardonably common-look-
ing, with a cast in her eye, and a foot that, as
Mr.------observed, it would require a pretty con-
siderable large glass slipper to fit. Then she sang
— discords and dismay, how she did sing ! I could
not forbear stealing a glance at-: he applauded
the sestett vehemently; but when it came to that
most touching 66 nacqui aVaffanno” he wisely inter-
posed his handkerchief between the stage and his
gracious countenance. I thought of poor dear---
and her sweet voice, and her refined taste, and
shuddered to hear this favourite of hers bedevilled
by such a Squalini. Now is it possible that people
can be such fools as to fancy this good in spite of
their senses, or such earless asses (that’s a bull I
suppose), as to suffer themselves to be persuaded
that it is ? Though why do I ask it ? Oh yes,
“ very easily possible.” Do not half the people
in London spend money and time without end,
enduring nightly penances — listening to what
hey can’t understand, and couldn’t appreciate ifJOURNAL,
153
they did? I suppose if I shall allow a hundred
out of the whole King’s Theatre audience to know
anything whatever about music, I am wide in my
grant of comprehension. There was that virtuous
youth, Mr.-------, who evidently ranks as one of
the cognoscenti here, who exclaimed triumphantly
at the end of one of the perpetrations, “ Well,
after all, there’s nothing like Rossini.” Handel,
Haydn, Mosart, Beethoven, and Weber, are not,
that is certain.* I wish I could have seen Mr.---
* The Russians and Danes are rich in the possession of
an original and most touching national music; Scotland,
Ireland, and Wales, are alike favoured with the most exqui-
site native melodies, probably, in the world. France, th°ugh
more barren in the wealth of sweet sounds, has a few fine
old airs, that redeem her from the charge of utter sterility.
Austria, Bohemia, and Switzerland, each claim a thousand
beautiful and characteristic mountain songs; Italy is the
very palace of music, Germany its temple; Spain resounds
with wild and martial strains, and the thick groves of Por-
tugal with native music, of a softer and sadder kind. All
the nations of Europe, I presume all those of all the world,
possess some kind of national music, and are blessed by
Heaven with some measure of perception as to the loveliness
of harmonious sounds. England alone, England and her
descendant America, seems to have been denied a sense, to
want a capacity, to have been stinted of a faculty, to the
possession of which she vainly aspires. The rich spirit of
Italian music, the solemn soul of German melody, the wild
free Euterpe of the Cantons, have in vain been summoned
by turns to teach her how to listen; ’t is all in vain — she
H 5154
JOURNAL.
during that finale. Coming out, were joined by
Mr. —: brought him home in the carriage
with us. Gave him “ Ye mariners of Spain,” and
some cold tongue, to take the taste of the Cene-
rentola out of his mouth. He stayed some time.
I like him enough: he is evidently a clever man,
though he does murder the King’s English. (By
the by, does English, the tongue, belong, in Ame-
rica, to the King or the President — I wonder ?
I should rather think, from my limited observ-
ations, that it was the individual property of every
freeborn citizen of the United States.) Now, what
on earth can I say to the worthy citizens, if they
ask me what I thought of the Italian opera ! That
it was very amusing — yes, that will do nicely;
that will be true, and not too direct a condemnation
of their good taste.
does listen painfully; she has learnt by dint of time, and
much endurance, the technicalities of musical science; she
pays regally her instructors in the divine pleasure, but all in
vain: the spirit of melody is not in her; and in spite of hosts
of foreign musicians, in spite of the King’s Theatre, in spite
of Pasta, in spite of music-masters paid like ministers of
state, in spite of singing and playing young ladies, and criti-
cising young gentlemen, England, to the last day of her
life, will be a dunce in music, for she hath it not in her;
neither, if I am not much mistaken, hath her daughter.JOURNAL,
155
Sunday, 7th.
Rose late. Young----------breakfasted with us.
How unfortunately plain he is ! His voice is
marvellously like his father’s, and it pleased me to
hear him speak therefore. He was talking to my
father about the various southern and western
theatres, and bidding us expect to meet strange
coadjutors in those lost lands beyond the world.
On one occasion he said, when he was acting
Richard the Third, some of the underlings kept
their hats on while he was on the stage, whereat
-----remonstrated, requesting them in a whisper
to uncover, as they were in the presence of a king;
to which admonition he received the following
characteristic reply: “ Fiddlestick! I guess we
know nothing about kings in this country.” Co-
lonel -----called too; but D------and I went off
to church, and left my father to entertain them.
Met Mr.-------- and Mr.------, who were coming
to fetch us: went to Mr.-----’s pew. The music
was very delightful; but decidedly I do not like
music in church. The less my senses are appealed
to in the house of prayer the better for me and my
devotions. Although I have experienced excite-
ment of a stern and martial, and sometimes of a
h 6156
JOURNAL,
solemn, nature, from music, yet these melt away,
and its abiding influence with me is of a much
softer kind : therefore, in church, I had rather dis-
pense with it, particularly when they sing psalms,
as they did to-day, to the tune of “ Come dwell
with me, and be my love.” I did not like the
sermon much; there was effect in it, painting,
which I dislike. Staid the sacrament, the first I
have taken in this strange land. Mr.--------walked
home with us: when he was gone, Mr.------------and
Mr.-------called. When they had all taken their
departure, settled accounts, wrote journal, wrote
to my mother, came and put away sundry things,
and dressed for dinner. My father dined with
Mr. -------: D------ and I dined tete-a-tete. Co-
lonel --------------came twice through the pouring rain
to look after our baggage for to-morrow; such
charity is unexampled.
Monday, 8t/i.
Rose (oh, horror !) at a quarter to five. Night
was still brooding over the earth. Long before I
was dressed the first voice I heard was that of
Colonel-----, come to look after our luggage, and
see us off. To lend my friend a thousand pounds
(if I had it) I could; to lend him my horse, per-JOURNAL.
157
haps I might; but to get up in the middle of the
night, and come dawdling in the grey cold hour
of the morning upon damp quays, and among
dusty packages, except for my own flesh and blood,
I could not. Yet this worthy man did it for us ;
whence I pronounce that he must be half a Quaker
himself, for no common episcopal benevolence
could stretch this pitch. Dressed, and gathered
together my things, and at six o’clock, just as the
night was folding its soft black wings, and rising
slowly from the earth, we took our departure from
that mansion of little ease, the American, and our
fellow-lodgers the ants, and proceeded to the Phila-
delphia steam-boat, which started from the bottom
of Barclay Street. We were recommended to this
American hotel as the best and most comfortable
in New York; and truly the charges were as high
as one could have paid at the Clarendon, in the
land of comfort and taxation. The wine v/as
exorbitantly dear; champagne and claret about
eleven shillings sterling a bottle; sherry, port, and
madeira, from nine to thirteen. The rooms were
a mixture of French finery, and Irish disorder
and dirt; the living was by no means good; the
whole house being conducted on a close scraping
system of inferior accommodations and extrava-
gant charges. On a sudden influx of visiters,158
JOURNAL.
sitting-rooms were converted into bed-rooms, con-
taining four and five beds. The number of ser-
vants was totally inadequate to the work; and the
articles of common use, such as knives and spoons,
were so scantily provided, that when the public
table was very full one day, the knives and forks
for our dinner were obliged to be washed from
theirs; and the luxury of a carving knife was not
to be procured at all on that occasion: it is true
that they had sometimes as many as two hundred
and fifty guests at the ordinary. The servants,
who, as I said before, were just a quarter as many
as the house required, had no bed-rooms allotted
to them, but slept about any where, in the public
rooms, or on sofas in drawing-rooms, let to pri-
vate families. In short, nothing can exceed the
want of order, propriety, and comfort in this esta-
blishment, except the enormity of the tribute it
levies upon pilgrims and wayfarers through the
land.* And so, as I said, we departed therefrom
nothing loath.
The morning was dull, dreary, and damp, which
* It is but justice to state, that this house has passed
into other hands, and is much improved in every respect.
Strangers, particularly Englishmen, will find a great con-
venience in the five o’clock ordinary, now established there
which is, I am told, excellently conducted and appointed.JOURNAL.
159
I regretted very much. The steam-boat was very
large and commodious, as all these conveyances
are. I enquired of one of the passengers what the
power of the engine was : he replied that he did
not exactly know, but that he thought it was about
forty-horse power; and that, when going at speed,
the engine struck thirty times in a minute: this
appeared to me a great number in so short a time;
but the weather shortly became wet and drizzly,
and I did not remain on deck to observe. My
early rising had made me very sleepy, so I came
down to the third deck to sleep. These steam-
boats have three stories; the upper one is, as it
were, a roofing or terrace on the leads of the se-
cond, a very desirable station when the weather
is neither too foul nor too fair; a burning sun
being, I should think, as little desirable there as
a shower of rain. The second floor or deck has
the advantage of the ceiling above, and yet, the
sides being completely open, it is airy, and allows
free sight of the shores on either hand. Chairs,
stools, and benches, are the furniture of these
two decks. The one below, or third floor, down-
wards, in fact, the ground Jloor, being the one near
the water, is a spacious room completely roofed
and walled in, where the passengers take their
meals, and resort if the weather is unfavourable.160
JOURNAL.
At the end of this room is a smaller cabin for the
use of the ladies, with beds and a sofa, and all
the conveniences necessary, if they should like to
be sick; whither I came and slept till breakfast
time. Vigne’s account of the pushing, thrusting,
rushing, and devouring on board a western steam-
boat at meal times had prepared me for rather an
awful spectacle; but this, I find, is by no means
the case in these more civilised parts, and every
thing wras conducted with perfect order, propriety,
and civility. The breakfast was good, and served
and eaten with decency enough. Came up on
the upper deck, and walked about with my father.
The width of the river struck me as remarkable;
but the shores were flat, and for the most part
uninteresting, except for the rich and various tints
which the thickets of wood presented, and which
are as superior in brilliancy and intenseness to
our autumnal colouring as their gorgeous skies
are to ours. Opposite the town of Amboy, the
Raritan opens into a magnificent lake-like expanse
round the extreme point of Staten Island.* As
* The whole of this passage is in fact a succession of
small bays, forming a continuation to the grand bay of New
York, and dividing Staten Island from the mainland of New
Jersey; the Raritan river does not properly begin till Amboy,
where it empties itself into a bay of its own name.JOURNAL.
161
the shores on either side, however, were not very
interesting, I finished reading Combe’s book.
There is much sound philosophy in it; but I do
not think it altogether establishes the main point
that he wishes to make good—the truth of phre-
nology, and the necessity of its being adopted as
the only science of the human mind. His general
assertions admit of strong individual exceptions,
which, I think, go far towards invalidating the
generality. However, ’t is not a full developement
of his own system, but, as it were, only an intro-
duction to it; and his own admissions of the ob-
scurity and uncertainty in which that system is
still involved necessarily enforces a suspension of
judgment, until its practical results have become
more manifest, and in some measure borne witness
to the truth of his theory.—At about half-past
ten we reached the place where we leave the river,
to proceed across a part of the State of New Jersey
to the Delaware. The landing was beyond mea-
sure wretched: the shore shelved down to the
water’s edge; and its marshy, clayey, sticky soil,
rendered doubly soft and squashy by the damp
weather, was strewn over with broken potsherds,
stones, and bricks, by way of pathway; these,
however, presently failed, and some slippery planks
half immersed in mud were the only roads to the162
JOURNAL.
coaches that stood ready to receive the passengers
of the steam-boat. Oh, these coaches ! English
eye hath not seen, English ear hath not heard, nor
hath it entered into the heart of Englishmen to
conceive the surpassing clumsiness and wretched-
ness of these leathern inconveniences. They are
shaped something like boats, the sides being merely
leathern pieces, removable at pleasure, but which,
in bad weather, are buttoned down to protect the
inmates from the wet. There are three seats in
this machine; the middle one, having a movable
leathern strap, by way of adossier, runs between
the carriage doors, and lifts away to permit the
egress and ingress of the occupants of the other
seats. Into the one facing the horses D--------and
I put ourselves; presently two young ladies occu-
pied the opposite one; a third lady, and a gentle-
man of the same party, sat in the middle seat, into
which my father’s huge bulk was also squeezed;
finally, another man belonging to the same party
ensconced himself between the two young ladies.
Thus the two seats were filled, each with three
persons, and there should by rights have been a
third on ours; for this nefarious black hole on
wheels is intended to carry nine. However, we
profited little by the space, for, letting alone that
there is not really and truly room for more thanJOURNAL.
163
two human beings of common growth and pro-
portions on each of these seats, the third place
was amply filled up with baskets and packages of
ours, and huge undoubleableup coats and cloaks of
my father’s. For the first few minutes I thought
I must have fainted from the intolerable sensation
of smothering which I experienced. However,
the leathers having been removed, and a little
more air obtained, I took heart of grace, and re-
signed myself to my fate. Away wallopped the
four horses, trotting with their front, and galloping
with their hind legs ,• and away went we after them,
bumping, thumping, jumping, jolting, shaking,
tossing, and tumbling, over the wickedest road, I
do think the cruellest, hard-heartedest road that
ever wheel rumbled upon. Thorough bog and
marsh, and ruts wider and deeper than any Chris-
tian ruts I ever saw, with the roots of trees pro-
truding across our path; their boughs every now
and then giving us an affectionate scratch through
the windows; and, more than once, a half-demo-
lished trunk or stump lying in the middle of the
road lifting us up, and letting us down again, with
most awful variations of our poor coach body from
its natural position. Bones of me ! what a road !*
* I had always heard that the face of nature was gigantic
in America; and truly we found the wrinkles such for so
young a country. The ruts were absolute abysses.164
JOURNAL.
Even my father’s solid proportions could not keep
their level, but were jerked up to the roof and
down again every three minutes. Our companions
seemed nothing dismayed by these wondrous per-
formances of a coach and four, but laughed and
talked incessantly, the young ladies, at the very top
of their voices, and with the national nasal twang.*
The conversation was much of the genteel shop-
keeper kind; the wit of the ladies, and the gallantry
of the gentlemen, savouring strongly of tapes and
yard measures, and the shrieks of laughter of the
whole set enough to drive one into a frenzy.
The ladies were all pretty; two of them particu-
larly so, with delicate fair complexions, and beau-
* The southern, western, and eastern states of North
America have each their strong peculiarities of enunciation,
which render them easy of recognition. The Virginian and
New England accents appear to me the most striking;
Pennsylvania and New York have much less brogue; but
through all their various tones and pronunciations a very
strong nasal inflection preserves their universal brotherhood.
They all speak through their noses, and at the top of their
voices. Of dialects, properly so called, there are none;
though a few expressions, peculiar to particular states,
which generally serve to identify their citizens; but these
are not numerous, and a jargon approaching in obscurity
that of many of our counties is not to be met with. The
language used in society generally is unrefined, inelegant,
and often ungrammatically vulgar; but it is more vulgar than
unintelligible by far.JOURNAL*
165
tifiil grey eyes: how I wish they could have held
their tongues for two minutes. We had not long
been in the coach before one of them complained
of being dreadfully sick.* This, in such a space,
and with seven near neighbours ! Fortunately she
was near the window; and during our whole four-
teen miles of purgatory she alternately leaned
from it overcome with sickness, then reclined lan-
guishingly in the arms of her next neighbour, and
then, starting up with amazing vivacity, joined her
voice to the treble duet of her two pretty compa-
nions, with a superiority of shrillness, that might
have been the pride and envy of Billingsgate.
’T was enough to bother a rookery ! The country
through which we passed was woodland, flat, and
without variety, save what it derived from the
wondrous richness and brilliancy of the autumnal
foliage. Here indeed decay is beautiful; and na-
ture appears more gorgeously clad in this her
fading mantle, than in all the summer’s flush of
bloom in our less favoured climates, f I noted
* This appears to me to be a most frequent ailment among
the American ladies : they must have particularly bilious con-
stitutions. I never remember travelling in a steam-boat, on
the smoothest water, without seeing sundry “ afflicted fair
ones” who complained bitterly of sea-sickness in the river.
f In spite of its beauty, or rather on that very account,
an American autumn is to me particularly sad. It presents166
JOURNAL.
several beautiful wild flowers growing among the
underwood; some of which I have seen adorning
with great dignity our most cultivated gardens.* *
None of the trees had any size or appearance of
age: they are the second growth, which have sprung
from the soil once possessed by a mightier race
of vegetables. The quantity of mere underwood,
and the number of huge black stumps rising in
every direction a foot or two from the soil, bear
witness to the existence of fine forest timber. The
few cottages and farm houses which we passed
reminded me of similar dwellings in France and
Ireland; yet the peasantry here have not the same
excuse for disorder and dilapidation as either the
Irish or French. The farms had the same deso-
an union of beauty and decay, that for ever reminds me of
that loveliest disguise death puts on, when the cheek is
covered with roses, and the eyes are like stars, and the life
is perishing away; even so appear the gorgeous colours of
the withering American woods. ’Tis a whole forest dying
of consumption.
* The magnolia and azalia are two of these; and, earlier
in the summer, the whole country looks like fairy-land, with
the profuse and lovely blossoms of the wild laurel, an ever-
green shrub unequalled for its beauty, and which absolutely
over-runs every patch of uncultivated ground. I wonder
none of our parks have yet been adorned with it: it is a
hardy plant, and I should think would thrive admirably in
England.JOURNAL.
167
late, untidy, untended look: the gates broken, the
fences carelessly put up, or ill repaired; the farm-
ing utensils sluttishly scattered about a littered
yard, where the pigs seemed to preside by un-
disputed right; house-windows broken, and stuffed
with paper or clothes; dishevelled women, and
barefooted, anomalous looking human young
things;—none of the stirring life and activity which
such places present in England and Scotland;
above all, none of the enchanting mixture of neat-
ness, order, and rustic elegance and comfort, which
render so picturesque the surroundings of a farm,
and the various belongings of agricultural labour
in my own dear country.* The fences struck me
* In the opening chapter of that popular work, Eugene
Aram, are the following words : — “It has been observed,
and there is a world of homely, ay, and of legislative knowledge
in the observation, that wherever you see a flower in a cot-
tage garden, or a bird-cage at the window, you may feel sure
that the cottagers are better and wiser than their neighbours.”
The truth of this observation is indisputable. But for such
“ humble tokens of attention to something beyond the sterile
labour of life” you look in vain during a progress through
this country. In New England alone, neatness and a cer-
tain endeavour at rustic elegance and adornment, in the cot-
tages and country residences, recall those of their father-land;
and the pleasure of the traveller is immeasurably heightened
by this circumstance. If the wild beauties of uncultivated
nature lead our contemplations to our great Maker, these
lowly witnesses of the industry and natural refinement of163
JOURNAL.
as peculiar; I never saw any such in England.
They are made of rails of wood placed horizon-
tally, and meeting at obtuse angles, so forming a
zig-zag wall of wood, which runs over the country
like the herring-bone seams of a flannel petticoat.
At each of the angles two slanting stakes, consi-
derably higher than the rest of the fence, were
driven into the ground, crossing each other at the
top, so as to secure the horizontal rails in their
position.* * There was every now and then a soft
the laborious cultivator of the soil warm our heart with
sympathy for our kind, and the cheering conviction that,
however improved by cultivation, the sense of beauty, and
the love of what is lovely, have been alike bestowed upon all
our race; *t is a wholesome conviction, which the artificial
divisions of society too often cause us to lose sight of. The
labourer, who, after “ sweating in the eye of Phoebus ” all
the day, at evening trains the fragrant jasmine round his
lowly door, is the very same man who, in other circum-
stances, would have been the refined and liberal patron of
those arts which reflect the beauty of nature.
* In all my progress I looked in vain for the refreshing
sight of a hedge — no such thing was to be seen; and their
extreme rarity throughout the country renders the more
cultivated parts of it arid-looking and comparatively dreary.
These crooked fences in the south, and stone walls to the
north, form the divisions of the fields, instead of those deli-
cious "hedge-rows green,” where the old elms delight to
grow, where the early violets and primroses first peep shel-
tered forth, where the hawthorn blossoms sweeten the sum-JOURNAL.
169
vivid strip of turf, along the road-side, that made
me long for a horse. Indeed the whole road would
have been a delightful ride, and was a most bitter
drive. At the end of fourteen miles we turned
into a swampy field, the whole fourteen coachfuls
of us, and, by the help of Heaven, bag and bag-
gage were packed into the coaches which stood
on the rail-way ready to receive us. The carriages
were not drawn by steam, like those on the Li-
mer, the honeysuckle hangs its yellow garlands in the autumn,
and the red “ hips and haws ” shine like bushes of earthly
coral in the winter.
But the Americans are in too great a hurry to plant hedges:
they have abundance of native material; but a wooden fence
is put up in a few weeks, a hedge takes as many years to
grow; and, as I said before, an American has not time to be
a year about any thing. When first the country was settled,
the wood was an encumbramce, and it was cut down accord-
ingly ; that is by no means the case now; and the only re-
commendation of these fences is, therefore, the comparative
rapidity with which they can be constructed. One of the
most amiable and distinguished men of this country once
remarked to me, that the Americans were in too great a
hurry about every thing they undertook to bring any thing to
perfection. And certainly, as far as my observation goes, I
should calculate that an American is born, lives, and dies
twice as fast as any other human creature. I believe one of
the great inducements to this national hurry is, that “ time
is money,” which is true; but it is also true, sometimes, that
K most haste makes worst speed.”
VOL. I.
I170
JOURNAL.
verpool rail-way, but by horses, with the mere ad-
vantage in speed afforded by the iron ledges, which,
to be sure, compared with our previous progress
through the ruts, was considerable. Our coachful
got into the first carriage of the train, escaping,
by way of especial grace, the dust which one’s
predecessors occasion. This vehicle had but two
seats, in the usual fashion; each of which held
four of us. The whole inside was lined with blazing
scarlet leather, and the windows shaded with stuff’
curtains of the same refreshing colour; which,
with full complement of passengers, on a fine,
sunny, American summer’s day, must make as
pretty a little miniature hell as may be, I should
think. The baggage waggon, which went before
us, a little obstructed the view. The road was
neither pretty nor picturesque; but still fringed
on each side with the many-coloured woods, whose
rich tints made variety even in sameness. This
rail-road is an infinite blessing; ’t is not yet finished,
but shortly will be so, and then the whole of that
horrible fourteen miles will be performed in com-
fort and decency in less than half the time. In
about an hour and a half we reached the end of
our rail-road part of the journey, and found an-
other steam-boat waiting for us, when we all em-
barked on the Delaware. Again, the enormous
width of the river struck me with astonishmentJOURNAL.
Ill
and admiration. Such huge bodies of water mark
out the country through which they run, as the
future abode of the most extensive commerce, and
greatest maritime power in the universe. The
banks presented much the same features as those
of the Raritan, though they were not quite so flat,
and more diversified with scattered dwellings, vil-
lages, and towns. We passed Bristol and Bur-
lington, stopping at each of them to take up pas-
sengers.* I sat working, having finished my book,
not a little discomfited by the pertinacious staring
of some of my fellow-travellers. One woman, in
particular, after wandering round me in every di-
rection, at last came and sat down opposite me,
and literally gazed me out of countenance. One
improvement they have adopted on board these
boats is to forbid smoking, except in the fore part
of the vessel. I wish they would suggest that, if
the gentlemen would refrain from spitting about
too, it would be highly agreeable to the female
part of the community. The universal practice
here of this disgusting trick makes me absolutely
sick: every place is made a perfect piggery of—
* These are two very pretty villages of Quaker origin;
situated in the midst of a fertile and lovely country, and
much resorted to during the summer season by the Philadel-
phians.172
JOURNAL.
street, stairs, steam-boat, every where—and behind
the scenes; and on the stage at rehearsal I have
been shocked and annoyed beyond expression by
this horrible custom. To-day, on board the boat,
it was a perfect shower of saliva all the time; and
I longed to be released from my fellowship with
these very obnoxious chewers of tobacco.* At
about four o’clock we reached Philadelphia, having
performed the journey between that and New York
(a distance of a hundred miles) in less than ten
hours, in spite of bogs, ruts, and all other impe-
diments. The manager came to look after us and
our goods, and we were presently stowed into a
coach which conveyed us to the Mansion House,
the best reputed inn in Philadelphia. On asking
for our bed-rooms, they showed D-------and myself
into a double-bedded room. On my remonstrating
against this, the chamber-maid replied, that they
were not accustomed to allow lodgers so much room
* It has happened to me after a few hours’ travelling in a
steam-boat to find the white dress, put on fresh in the morn-
ing, covered with yellow tobacco stains; nor is this very
offensive habit confined to the lower orders alone. I have seen
gentlemen spit upon the carpet of the room where they were
sitting, in the company of women, without the slightest re-
morse ; and I remember once seeing a gentleman, who was
travelling with us, very deliberately void his tobacco juice
into the bottom of the coach, instead of through the win-
dows, to my inexpressible disgust.JOURNAL.
173
as a room apiece. However, upon my insisting,
they gave me a little nest just big enough to turn
about in, but where, at least, I can be by myself.
Dressed, and dined at five; after dinner, wrote
journal till tea-time, and then came to bed.
Tuesday, 9th.
Rose at half-past eight. Went and took a bath.
On my way thither, drove through two melancholy
looking squares, which reminded me a little of poor
old Queen Square in Bristol. The ladies’ baths
were closed, but as I was not particular, they gave
me one in the part of the house usually allotted
to the men’s use. I was much surprised to find
two baths in one room, but it seems to me that the
people of this country have an aversion to solitude,
whether eating, sleeping, or under any other cir-
cumstances.
#	#	#	#	*
#	*	*	#	#
I made acquaintance with a bewitching Newfound-
land puppy whom I greatly coveted. Came home,
dressed, and breakfasted. After breakfast, righted
my things, and wrote journal. Took a walk with
my father through some of the principal streets#
The town is perfect silence and solitude, compared
i 3174
JOURNAL.
with New York; there is a greater air of age about
it too, which pleases me. The red houses are not
so fiercely red, nor the white facings so glaringly
white ,• in short, it has not so new and flaunting a
look, which is a great recommendation to me. The
city is regularly built, the streets intersecting each
other at right angles. We passed one or two
pretty buildings in pure white marble, and the
bank in Chestnut Street, which is a beautiful little
copy of the Parthenon. The pure, cold, clear-
looking marble, suits well with the severe and un-
adorned style of architecture; and is in harmony,
too, with the extreme brilliancy of the sky, and
clearness of the atmosphere of this country.* We
* I wish that somebody would be so obliging as to impress
people in general with the extreme excellence of a perception
of the fitness of things. Besides the intrinsic beauty of works
of art, they have a beauty derived from their appropriateness
to the situations in which they are placed, and their harmony
with the objects which surround them: this minor species of
beauty is yet a very great one. If it were more studied, and
better understood, public buildings would no longer appear
as if they had fallen out of the clouds by chance; parks and
plantations would no more have the appearance of nurseries,
where the trees were classed by kind, instead of being massed
according to their various forms and colours; and Gothic and
classic edifices would not so often seem as if they had for-
saken their appropriate situations, to rear themselves in
climates, and among scenery, with which they in no way har-
monise.JOURNAL.
175
passed another larger building, also a bank, in the
Corinthian style, which did not please me so much.
The shops here are much better looking than those
at New York: the windows are larger, and more
advantageously constructed for the display of
goods; and there did not appear to be the same
anomalous mixture of vendibles, as in the New
York shops. The streets were very full of men
hurrying to the town house, to give their votes.
It is election time, and much excitement subsists
with regard to the choice of the future President.*
* Politics of all sorts, I confess, are far beyond my limited
powers of comprehension. Those of this country, as far as
I have been able to observe, resolve themselves into two great
motives, — the aristocratic desire of elevation and separation,
and the democratic desire of demolishing and levelling.
Whatever may be the immediate cause of excitement or
discussion, these are the two master-springs to which they
are referable. Every man in America is a politician; and
political events, of importance only because they betray the
spirit which would be called into play by more stirring occa-
sions, are occurring incessantly, and keeping alive the in-
terest which high and low alike take in the evolutions of
their political machine. Elections of state officers, elections
of civil authorities, all manner of elections (for America is
one perpetual contest for votes), are going on all the year
round; and whereas the politics of men of private stations#
in other countries are kept quietly by them, and exhibited
only on occasions of general excitement, those of an American
are as inseparable from him as his clothes, and mix up with
his daily discharge of his commonest daily avocations. I was
i 4276
JOURNAL.
The democrats or radicals are for the re-election
of General Jackson, but the aristocratic party,
which here at all events is the strongest, are in
favour of H enry Clay. Here is the usual quantity
of shouting and breaking windows that we are ac-
customed to on these occasions. I saw a caricature
of Jackson and Van Buren, his chief supporter,
which was entitled “ The King and his Minister.”
Van Buren held a crown in his hand, and the devil
was approaching Jackson with a sceptre. — Came
in at half-past four, dressed for dinner : they gave
us an excellent one. The master of this house
was, it seems, once a man of independent fortune,
and a great bon vivant.	He has retained from
thence a fellow-feeling for his guests, and does by
extremely amused at seeing oyer a hat shop in New York
one day, “ Anti-Bank Hat Store,” written in most attractive
characters, as an inducement for all good democrats to go in
and purchase their beavers of so republican a hatter. The
universal-suffrage system is of course the cause of this gene-
ral political mania; and during an election of mayor or aider-
men the good shopkeepers of New York are in as fierce a
state of excitement as if the choice of a perpetual dictator
were the question in point. Politics is the main subject of
conversation among American men in society; but, as I said
before, the immediate object of discussion being most fre-
quently some petty local interest or other, strangers cannot
derive much pleasure from, or feel much sympathy in, the
debate.JOURNAL*
177
them as he would be done by. After dinner, worked
till tea-time; after tea, wrote journal, and now I ’ll
go to bed. We are attended here by a fat old
lively negro, by name Henry; who canters about
in our behalf with great alacrity, and seems wrapt
in much wonderment at many of our proceedings.
By the by, the black who protected our baggage
from the steam-boat was ycleped Oliver Crcmrwell.
I have begun Grahame’s History of America, and
like it cc mainly,” as the old plays say.
Wednesday, 10 th.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, trimmed a cap,
and wrote to dear---------. The streets were in an
uproar all night, people shouting and bonfires
blazing; in short, electioneering fun, which seems
to be pretty much the same all the world over.
Clay has it hollow here, they say : I wonder wrhat
Colonel--------will say to that. At twelve o’clock,
sallied forth with D------to rehearsal. The theatre
is very pretty; not large, but well sized, and I
should think, favourably constructed for the voice.
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Unless Aldabella is irresistibly lovely, as well
as wicked, there is no accounting for the conduct
i 5178
JOURNAL,
of Fazio. My own idea of her, as well as Milman's
description, is every thing that can be conceived of
splendid in beauty, sparkling in wit, graceful in
deportment, gorgeous in apparel, and deep and
dangerous in crafty wiliness; in short, the old
serpent in the shape of Mrs.------. I wish Mrs.
-----would act that part: I could act it well
enough, but she wuuld both act and look it, to the
very life. After rehearsal, walked about the town
in quest of some coques de perle for my Bianca
dress: could not procure any. I like this town
extremely : there is a look of comfort and clean-
liness, and withal of age about it, which pleases
me. It is quieter, too, than New York, and though
not so gay, for that very reason is more to my
fancy ; the shops, too, have a far better appearance.
New York always gave me the idea of an irregular
collection of temporary buildings, erected for some
casual purpose, full of life, animation, and variety,
but not meant to endure for any length of time; a
fair, in short. This place has a much more sub-
stantial, sober, and city-like appearance. Came
home at half-past two. In the hall met Mr.-------,
who is grown ten years younger since I saw him
last: it always delights me to see one of my fellow-
mssengers, and I am much disappointed in not
finding ——— here. Dined at three; after dinner,JOURNAL.
179
read my father some of my journal; went on with
letter to ——, and then went and dressed myself.
Took coffee, and adjourned to the theatre. The
house was very full, but not so full as the Park on
the first night of his acting in New York, which
accounts for the greater stillness of the audience.
I watched my father narrowly through his part
to-night with great attention and some consequent
fatigue, and the conclusion I have come to is this:
that though his workmanship may be, and is, far
finer in the hand, than that of any other artist I
ever saw, yet its very minute accuracy and refine-
ment renders it unfit for the frame in which it is
exhibited. Whoever should paint a scene calcu-
lated for so large a space as a theatre, and destined
to be viewed at the distance from which an au-
dience beholds it, with the laborious finish and
fine detail of a miniature, would commit a great
error in judgment. Nor would he have the least
right to complain, although the public should pre-
fer the coarser, yet far more effective work of a
painter, who, neglecting all refinement and niceness
of execution, should merely paint with such full
colouring, and breadth and boldness of touch, as to
produce in the wide space he is called upon to fill,
and upon the remote senses he appeals to, the effect
of that which he intends to represent. Indeed he
i 6 ’180
JOURNAL.
is the better artist of the two, though probably
not the most intellectual man. For it is the part
of such an one to know exactly what will best con-
vey to the mass of mind and feeling to which he
addresses himself the emotions and passions which
he wishes them to experience.* Now the great
* I have often thought that the constant demand for
small theatres, which I have heard made by persons of the
higher classes of society in England, was a great pi’oof of
the decline of the more imaginative faculties among them;
and the proportionate increase of that fastidious and critical
spirit, which is so far removed from every thing which con-
stitutes the essence of poetry. The idea of illusion in a
dramatic exhibition is confined to the Christmas spectators
of old tragedies and new pantomimes; the more refined por-
tions of our English audiences yawn through Shakspeare’s
historical plays, and quiz through those which are histories
of human nature and its awful passions. They have forgot-
ten what human nature really is, and cannot even imagine it.
They require absolute reality on the stage, because their in-
capable spirits scoff' at poetical truth, and that absolute
reality, in our days, consists in such representations as the
Rent Day ; or (crossing the w ater, for we dearly love what
is foreign) the homely improbabilities of Victorine, Henriette,
and a pack of equally worthless subjects of exhibition. In-
deed, theatres have had an end; for the refined, the highly
educated, the first classes of society, they have had an end; it
will be long, however, before the mass is sufficiently refined
to lose all power of imagination ,* and while our aristocracy
patronise French melodramas, and seek their excitement in
the most trashy sentimentalities of the modern ecole roman-
tiquey I have some hopes that our plebeian pits and galleriesJOURNAL.
181
beauty of all my father’s performances, but parti-
cularly of Hamlet, is a wonderful accuracy in the
detail of the character which he represents; an
accuracy which modulates the emphasis of every
word, the nature of every gesture, the expression
of every look; and which renders the whole a
most laborious and minute study, toilsome in the
conception and acquirement, and most toilsome
in the execution. But the result, though the na-
tural one, is not such as he expects, as the reward
of so much labour. Few persons are able to follow
such a performance with the necessary attention,
and it is almost as great an exertion to see it un-
der standingly, as to act it. The amazing study of
it requires a study in those who are to appreciate
it, and, as I take it, this is far from being what the
majority of spectators are either capable or desir-
ous of doing; the actor loses his pains, and they
have but little pleasure. Those who perform, and
those who behold a play, have but a certain pro-
portion of power of exciting, and capability of be-
ing excited. If, therefore, the actor expends his
may still retain their sympathy for the loves of Juliet and
the sorrows of Ophelia. I would rather a thousand times
act either of those parts to a set of Manchester mechanics,
than to the most select of our aristocracy, for they are “ no-
thing, if not critical.”182
JOURNAL.
power of exciting, and his audience’s power of
being excited, upon the detail of the piece, and
continues through five whole acts to draw from
both, the main and striking points, those of
strongest appeal, those calculated most to rouse at
once, and gratify the emotions of the spectator,
have not the same intensity or vigour that they
would have had, if the powers of both actor and
audience had been reserved to give them their
fullest effect. A picture requires light and shadow;
and the very relief that throws some of the figures
in a fine painting into apparent obscurity, in reality
enhances the effect produced by those over which
the artist has shed a stronger light. Every note
in the most expressive song does not require a
peculiar expression; and an air sung with indi-
vidual emphasis on each note would be utterly
unproductive of the desired effect. All things
cannot have all their component parts equal, and
“ nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.” This be-
ing so, I think that acting the best which skilfully
husbands the actor’s and spectator’s powers, and
puts forth the whole of the one, to call forth the
whole of the other, occasionally only; leaving the
intermediate parts sufficiently level, to allow him
and them to recover the capability of again pro-
ducing, and again receiving, such impressions. ItJOURNAL.
183
is constant that our finest nerves deaden and dull
from over-excitement, and require repose, before
they regain their acute power of sensation. At
the same time, I am far from advocating that most
imperfect conception and embodying of a part
which Kean allows himself: literally acting de-
tached passages alone, and leaving all the others,
and the entire character, indeed, utterly destitute
of unity, or the semblance of any consistency what-
ever. But Kean and my father are immediately
each other’s antipodes, and in adopting their dif-
ferent styles of acting, it is evident that each has
been guided as much by his own physical and in-
tellectual individuality, as by any fixed principle
of art. The one, Kean, possesses particular phy-
sical qualifications; an eye like an orb of light, a
voice, exquisitely touching and melodious in its
tenderness, and in the harsh dissonance of vehe-
ment passion terribly true; to these he adds the
iqtellectual ones of vigour, intensity, amazing
power of concentrating effect: these give him an
entire mastery over his audience in all striking,
sudden, impassioned passages; in fulfilling which,
he has contented himself, leaving unheeded what
he probably could not compass, the unity of con-
ception, the refinement of detail, and evenness of184
JOURNAL.
execution.* My father possesses certain physical
defects, a faintness of colouring in the face and
eye, a weakness of voice; and the corresponding
intellectual deficiencies, a want of intensity, vigour,
and concentrating power: these circumstances have
led him (probably unconsciously) to give his at-
tention and study to the finer and more fleeting
shades of character, the more graceful and delicate
manifestations of feeling, the exquisite variety of
all minor parts, the classic keeping of a highly
wrought whole; to all these, polished and refined
tastes, an acute sense of the beauty of harmonious
* Kean is gone — and with him are gone Othello, Shylock,
and Richard. I have lived among those whose theatrical
creed would not permit them to acknowledge him as a great
actor; but they must be bigoted, indeed, who would deny
that he was a great genius, a man of most original and strik-
ing powers, careless of art, perhaps because he did not need
it; but possessing those rare gifts of nature, without which
art alone is as a dead body. Who that ever heard will ever
forget the beauty, the unutterable tenderness of his reply to
Desdemona’s entreaties for Cassio, “ Let him come when
he will, I can deny thee nothing; ” the deep despondency of
his “ Oh, now farewell ,* ” the miserable anguish of his “ Oh,
Desdemona, away, away” ? Who that ever saw will ever
forget the fascination of his dying eyes in Richard: when
deprived of his sword, the wondrous power of his look
seemed yet to avert the uplifted arm of Richmond. If he
was irregular and unartist-like in his performances, so is
Niagara, compared with the water-works of Versailles.JOURNAL.
185
proportions, and a native grace, gentleness, and
refinement of mind and manner, have been his
prompters; but they cannot inspire those startling
and tremendous bursts of passion, which belong
to the highest walks of tragedy, and to which he
never gave their fullest expression. I fancy my
aunt Siddons united the excellences of both these
styles. But to return to my father’s Hamlet:
every time I see it, something strikes me afresh in
the detail. Nothing in my mind can exceed the
exquisite beauty of his last “ Go on — I follow
thee,” to the ghost The full gush of deep and
tender faith, in spite of the awful mystery, to whose
unfolding he is committing his life, is beautiful be-
yond measure. It is distinct, and wholly different
from the noble, rational, philosophic conviction,
u And for my soul, what can it do to that ? ” It
is full of the unutterable fondness of a believing
heart, and brought to my mind, last night, those
holy and lovely words of scripture, “ Perfect love
casteth out fear: ” it enchanted me.# There is
* I have acted Ophelia three times with my father, and
each time, in that beautiful scene where his madness and his
love gush forth together like a torrent swollen with storms,
that bears a thousand blossoms on its troubled waters, I
have experienced such deep emotion as hardly to be able to
speak. The exquisite tenderness of his voice, the wild com-
passion and forlorn pity of his looks, bestowing that on others,186
JOURNAL.
one thing in which I do not believe my father ever
has been, or ever will be, excelled; his high and
noble bearing, his gallant, graceful, courteous de-
portment ; his perfect good-breeding on the stage;
unmarked alike by any peculiarity of time, place,
or self (except peculiar grace and beauty). He
appears to me the beau ideal of the courtly, tho-
rough-bred, chivalrous gentleman from the days
of the admirable Crichton down to those of George
the Fourth. Coming home after the play, the
marble buildings in the full moonlight reminded
me of the Ghost in Hamlet: they looked like pale
majestic spirits, cold, calm, and colourless.
Thursday, 11th.
Rose rather late. After breakfast, wrote journal;
which, above all others, he most needed; the melancholy rest-
lessness, the bitter self-scorning; every shadow of expression
and intonation was so full of all the mingled anguish that the
human heart is capable of enduring, that my eyes scarce fixed
on his ere they filled with tears; and long before the scene
was over, the letters and jewel cases I was tendering to him
were wet with them. The hardness of professed actors and
actresses is something amazing: after acting this part, I could
not but recall the various Ophelias I have seen, and com-
mend them for the astonishing absence of every thing like
feeling which they exhibited. Oh, it made my heart sore to
act it.JOURNAL.
187
at twelve, went to rehearsal. *
# # *
After rehearsal, came home, habited, and went to
the riding-school to try some horses. Merci de
moi ! what quadrupeds ! How they did wallop and
shamble about; poor half-broken dumb brutes !
they know no better; and as the natives here are
quite satisfied with their shuffling, rollicking, mon-
grel pace, half trot, half canter, why it is not worth
while to break horses in a christian-like fashion
for them.* I found something that I think my
father can ride with tolerable comfort, but must go
* I am speaking now only of the common saddle-horses
that one sees about the streets and roads. The southern
breed of race-horses is a subject of great interest and care to
all sporting men here : they are very beautiful animals, of a
remarkably slight and delicate make. But the perfection of
horses in this county are those trained for trotting: their
speed is almost incredible. I have been whirled along in a
light-built carriage by a ^air of famous professed trotters,
who certainly got oyer the ground at the rate of a moderate
going steam-engine, and this without ever for a moment
breaking into a gallop. The fondness of the Americans for
this sort of horses, however, is one reason why one can so
rarely obtain a well mouthed riding-horse. These trotters
are absolutely carried on the bit, and require only a snaffle,
and an arm of iron to hold them up. A horse well set upon
his haunches is not to be met with; and owing to this mode
of breaking, their action is entirely from the head and
shoulders; and they both look and feel as if they would
tumble down on their noses.
*	#
*	#188
JOURNAL.
again to-morrow and see after something for my-
self. Came home : the enchanting Mr. Head has
allowed me a piano-forte; but in bringing it into
the room, the stupid slave broke one of its legs
off, whereat I was like to faint, for I thought Mr.
Head would wish me hanged therefore. Nothing
can exceed the civility of the people here, and the
Jiouse is extremely well kept, quiet, and comfort-
able. Came home in high delight with this Quaker
city, which is indeed very pretty and pleasant.
Played on the piano : dressed for dinner. After
dinner, practised till tea-time, finished journal,
discussed metaphysics with D-------, for which I
am a fool; wrote to-day’s journal, and now to bed.
I have a dreadful cold and cough, and have done
nothing but hack and snivel the whole day long:
this is a bad preparation for to-morrow’s work.
Howsoever-------
Friday, 12th.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, sat wrriting jour-
nal and letter to —. At half-past eleven, went
to rehearsal. Afterwards walked down to the
riding-school with my father. The horse I was
to look at had not arrived; but mv father saw the
grey. We were there for some time; and duringJOURNAL.
189
that whole some time a tall, thin, unhappy looking
gentleman, who had gotten up upon a great hulking
rawboned horse, kept trotting round and round,
with his legs dangling down, sans stirrups, at the
rate of a mile and a quarter an hour; occasionally
ejaculating in the mildest of tones, “ keome —
keome up ; ” whereat the lively brute, nothing per-
suaded, proceeded in the very same pace, at the'-
very same rate; and this went on till I wondered
at the man and the beast. Came home and put
out things for the theatre. My cold and cough
are dreadful. After dinner, practised: invented
and executed a substitute for the coqnes de jperle
in my Bianca dress; and lay down to rest a little
before my work. At six, went to the theatre: the
house was very full; and D----------- and my father
say that I was extremely ungracious in my acknow-
ledgment of their greeting. I cannot tell; I did
not mean to be so; I made them three courtesies,
and what could woman do more^? Of course, I
can neither feel nor look so glad to see them, as
I am to see my own dear London people; neither
can I be as profound in my obeisance, as when my
audience is	civil enough	to rise to me: “ there is
differences,	look	you.”	*	*	*
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#190
JOURNAL.
My Fazio had a pair of false black whiskers on,
which distilled a black stripe of trickling cement
down his cheeks, and kept me in agony every time
he had to embrace me. My voice was horrible
to hear; alternately like Mrs.-------and--------, and
every now and then it was all I could do to utter
at all. This audience is the most unapplausive I
ever acted to, not excepting my excitable friends
north of the Tweed. They were very attentive,
certainly, but how they did make me work ! *T is
amazing how much an audience loses by this species
of hanging back, even where the silence proceeds
from unwillingness to interrupt a good perform-
ance : though in reality it is the greatest compli-
ment an actor can receive, yet he is deprived by
that very stillness of half his power. Excitement
is reciprocal between the performer and the au-
dience : he creates it in them, and receives it back
again from them; and in that last scene in Fazio,
half the effect that I produce is derived from the
applause which I receive, the very noise and tumult
of which tends to heighten the nervous energy
which the scene itself begets. I know that my
aunt Siddons has frequently said the same thing.
And besides the above reason for applause, the
physical powers of an actor require, after any tre-
mendous exertion, the rest and regathering ofJOURNAL.
191
breath and strength, which the interruption of the
audience affords him; moreover, as’t is the con-
ventional mode of expressing approbation in a
theatre, it is chilling and uncomfortable to go
toiling on, without knowing whether, as the maid-
servants say, “ one gives satisfaction or no.” They
made noise enough, however, at the end of the
play. Came home, supped, and to bed: weary
to death, and with a voice like a cracked bagpipe.
Saturday, 13 th.
Rose at half-past eight. After breakfast, wrote
journal; practised for an hour; got things ready
for to-morrow; put on my habit, which I had no
sooner done than the perverse clouds began to
rain. The horses came at two, but the weather
was so bad that I sent them away again. Prac-
tised for another hour, read a canto in Dante, and
dressed for dinner. After dinner, worked and
practised. Came to my own room, and tried to
scribble something for the Mirror, at my father’s
request; the editors having made an especial en-
treaty to him, that I might write something for
them, and also sit to some artist for them. I
could not accomplish any thing, and they must
just take something that I have by me: as for my192
JOURNAL.
physiognomy, that they shall certainly not have
with my own good leave. I will never expend so
much useless time again as to sit for my picture;
nor will I let any unhappy painter again get abused
for painting me as I am, which is any thing but
what I look like. Lawrence alone could do it:
there is no other that could see my spirit through
my face; and as for the face without that, the less
that is seen of it the better. Came down to tea,
and found a young gentleman sitting with my
father; one Mr.------.	#	*	*
#	#	#	#	%
#	#	#	#	*
He was a pretty-spoken, genteel youth enough : he
drank tea with us, and offered to ride with me.
He is, it seems, a great fortune; consequently, I
suppose (in spite of his inches), a great man.
Now I ’ll go to bed: my cough’s enough to kill a
horse.
Sunday, 1 kth.
Rose late; so late that, by the time I had break-
fasted, it was no longer time to go to church.
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Finished my first letter to---. Mr. -------called,JOURNAL.
193
and told us that he was going about agitating, and
that Jackson was certainly to be re-elected. *
#	#	#	#	#
*	#	#	#	#
At three o’clock D-------and I sallied forth to go
to church. Following the silver voices of the
Sabbath bells, as they called the worshippers to
the house of prayer, we entered a church with a
fine simple fa9ade, and found ourselves in the
midst of a Presbyterian congregation. ’T is now
upwards of eight years since, a school girl, I used
to attend a dissenter’s chapel. The form of wor-
ship, though displeasing to me in itself, borrowed
a charm to-day from old association. How much
of the past it did recall!	#	*
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Came home and dressed for dinner. After dinner
half-killed myself with laughter over an Irish ver-
sion of Fazio, ycleped Grimaldi, from which the
author swears Milman has shamefully filched the
plot, characters, and even the language, I believe,
of his drama. A gentleman of the press, by
name-------, paid us an evening visit. He seems
an intelligent young man enough; and when he
spoke of the autumnal woods, by the Oneida lake,
his expressions were poetical and enthusiastic;
VOL. I.	KJ 94-
journal.
and he pleased me.* He seems to think much of
having had the honour of corresponding with
sundry of the small literati of London. Je lui
en fais mon compliment. When he was gone,
wrote another letter to------, journal, and now
to bed.
Monday, 15th.
Rose at eight; took a hot bath. The more I
read of Grahame, the better I like him and his
history. Those early settlers in Massachusetts
* Except where they have been made political tools,
newspaper writers and editors have never, I believe, been
admitted into good society in England. It is otherwise
here: newspapers are the main literature of America; and I
have frequently heard it quoted, as a proof of a man’s abili-
ties, that he writes in such and such a newspaper. Besides
the popularity to be obtained by it, it is often attended with
no small literary consideration; and young men here, with
talents of a really high order, and who might achieve far
better things, too often are content to accept this very
mediocre mode of displaying their abilities, at very little
expense of thought or study, and neglect far worthier objects
of ambition, and the rewards held out by a distant and per-
manent fame. I know that half my young gentlemen ac~
quaintance here would reply, that they must live in the
' mean time, and it is a real and deep evil, arising from the
institutions of this country, that every man must toil from
day to day for his daily bread; and in this degrading and
spirit-loading care, all other nobler desires are smothered.
It is a great national misfortune.JOURNAL.
195
were fine fellows, indeed; and Cotton, one of the
finest samples of a Christian priest imaginable.
After breakfast, went to rehearsal. The day was
cold, but beautifully bright and clear. The pure,
fresh, invigorating air, and gay sunlight, together
with the delightfully clean streets, and pretty
mixture of trees and buildings in this nice town,
caused me to rejoice, as I walked along.* After
rehearsal, saw Sinclair and his wife. So — we are
to act the Gamester here. Went and ordered a
dress for that same, my own being at New York.
Came home, put out things for the theatre, prac-
tised an hour; dined at three. After dinner, read
a canto in Dante: he is my admiration ! — great,
great master! — a philosopher profound, as all
poets should be; a glorious poet, as I wish all
philosophers were. Sketched till dark. Chose a
beautiful claret-coloured velvet for Mrs. Beverley;
which will cost Miss Kemble eleven guineas, by
this living light. At six, went to the theatre. I
never beheld any thing more gorgeous than the sky
* This delightful virtue of neatness is carried almost to an
inconvenient pitch by the worthy Philadelphians : the town,
every now and then, appears to be in a perfect frenzy of
cleanliness; and of a Saturday morning, early, the streets
are really impassable, except to a good swimmer. “ Cleanli-
ness,” says the old saw, “is near to godliness.” Philadel-
phia must be very near heaven.
K 2196
JOURNAL.
at sunset. Autumn is an emperor here, clothed
in crimson and gold, and canopied with ruddy
glowing skies. Yet I like the sad russet cloak of
our own autumnal woods; I like the sighing voice
of his lament through the vaporous curtain that
rises round his steps; I like the music of the
withered leaves that rustle in his path; and oh,
above all, the solemn thoughts that wrait upon
him, as he goes stripping the trees of their bright
foliage, leaving them like the ungarlanded columns
of a deserted palace. The play was Romeo and
Juliet. My father was the “ youngest of that
name,” for want of a better, or, rather, of a worse*
How beautiful this performance must have been,
when the youthful form made that appear natural
which now seems the triumph of art over nature.
Garrick said, that to act Romeo required a
grey head upon green shoulders. Indeed, ’tis
difficult! Oh, that our sapient judges did but
know half how difficult. It is delightful to act
with my father. One’s imagination need toil but
little, to see in him the very thing he represents;
whereas, with all other Romeos, although they
were much younger men, I have had to do double
work with that useful engine, my fancy: first, to
get rid of the material obstacle staring me in the
face, and then to substitute some more congenialJOURNAL.
197
representative of that sweetest vision of youth and
love. Once, only, this was not necessary.
*	*	*	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
The audience here are, without exception, the
most disagreeable I ever played to. Not a single
hand did they give the balcony scene, or my
father’s scene with the friar: they are literally
immovable. They applauded vehemently at the
end of my draught scene, and a great deal at the
end of the play; but they are, nevertheless, in-
tolerably dull; and it is all but impossible to act
to them.	#		#	*
#	#	#	*	*
#	#	*	#	*
The man who acted Capulet did it better than any
Capulet I ever acted with ; and the nurse, besides
looking admirably, acted her part very well: and
’t is hard to please me, after poor dear old Mrs.
Davenport. The house was literally crammed
from floor to ceiling. Came home tired and
hoarse; though my voice was a good deal better
to-day. Mr.-------- supped with us. My father
expected a visit from the haggling Boston manager,
and chose to have a witness to the conference.198
JOURNAL.
Tuesday, 16th.
Rose at nine. After breakfast, read a canto in
Dante; wrote journal; practised for an hour.
The Boston manager, it seems, does not approve
of our terms; and after bargaining till past two
o’clock last night with my father, the latter, wea-
ried out with his illiberal trafficking, and coarse
vulgarity of manner, declined the thing altogether:
so, unless the gentleman thinks better of the mat-
ter, we shall not go to Boston this winter.* At
one o’clock, habited; and at two, rode out with
my father. The day was most enchanting, mild,
bright, and sunny; but the roads were deplorable,
and the country utterly dull. My horse was a
hard-mouthed, half-broken beast, without pace of
any Christian kind soever; a perfect rack on hoofs:
how it did jog and jumble me. However, my
bones are young, and my courage good, and I
don’t mind a little hard work; but the road was
* The final result of our very unfortunate dealings with
this gentleman is, that our earnings (and they are not lightly
come by), to the amount of near three thousand dollars, are
at this moment in the hands of a trustee, and Heaven and a
New England court of justice will decide whether they are
ever to come into ours.JOURNAL.
199
so villanously bad, and the surrounding country
so weary, dull, stale, and unprofitable, that I was
heartily sick of my ride, when we turned towards
Fairmount, the site of some large water-works on
the Schuylkill, by which Philadelphia is supplied
writh water. On our right I descried, over some
heights, a castellated building of some extent,
whose formidable appearance, at least, bespoke an
arsenal; but it was the entrance to the peniten-
tiary instead: and presently the river, bright,
and broad, and placid as a lake, with its beautiful
banks, and rainbow-tinted woods, opened upon us.
We crossed a covered wooden bridge, and fol-
lowed the water’s edge. The rich colours of the
foliage cast a warm light over the transparent face
of the mirror-like stream; and, far along the
winding shores, a mingled mantle of gorgeous-
glowing tints lay over the woody banks, and was
reflected in the still, sunny river. Indeed, it was
lovely ! But our time was growing short, and we
had to turn home; which we did by a pleasant
and more direct path. My horse, towards the
end of the ride, got more manageable; and I
doubt whether it would not be wiser to continue
to ride it than try another, which may be just as
bad, and, moreover, a stranger. My riding-cap
seemed to excite universal marvel wherever we
k 4200
JOURNAL,
passed. We came in at five o’clock; dressed, and
dined. Just as I had finished dinner, a most
beautiful, fragrant, and delicious nosegay was
brought to me, with a very laconic note from a
Philadelphia “ friend,” dashed under, as though
from a Quaker. Whoever’t is from, Jew or Gen-
tile, Puritan or Pagan, he, she, or it hath my
most unbounded gratitude. Spent an ecstatic half
hour in arranging my flowers in glasses; gave
orders about my Mrs. Beverley’s gown, and began
marking journal; while doing so, a card was
brought up.	#	#	#
# #	# #		#
* #	#	#	#
Presently Mr. —	— came in, another of		our Pa-
cific fellow-sailors. It pleases me to see them:
they seem to bring me nearer to England. He
gave a dreadful account of his arrival in Baltimore,
and of the state to which the cholera had reduced
that city. Mr.--------amused me, by telling me
that he had heard my behaviour canvassed with
much censure by some man or other, who met me
at Mr. *----, and who was horrified at my taking
up a book, and then a newspaper; and, in short,
being neither tragical nor comical, at a dinner-
party. Of course, I must seem a very strangeJOURNAL.
201
animal to them all; but they seem just as strange
to me.
*
#
#
#
Wednesday, nth.
Rose at eight. After breakfast, put out things
for the theatre. At eleven, went to rehearsal. It
seems there has been fighting, and rushing, and
tearing of coats at the box-office; and one man
has made forty dollars by purchasing and reselling
tickets at an increased price. After rehearsal,
came home. Mr.---------called, and sat some time :
he sails for England on the twenty-fourth. Eng-
land, oh England ! — yet, after all, what is there
in that name ? It is not my home; it is not those
beloved ones whose fellowship is half the time
what we call home. Is it really and truly the
yearning of the roots for the soil in which they
grew ? Perhaps it is only the restless roving
spirit, that still would be where it is not. I know
not. His description of American life and man-
ners (and he knows both, for he has lived con-
stantly in this country, and his partialities are, I
believe, fairly divided between it and his own,) is
any thing but agreeable.	#	*202
JOURNAL.
The dignified and graceful influence which
married women, among us, exercise over the tone
of manners, uniting the duties of home to the
charms of social life, and bearing, at once, like the
orange-tree, the fair fruits of maturity with the
blossoms of their spring, is utterly unknown here.
Married women are either house-drudges and
nursery-maids, or, if they appear in society, com-
parative ciphers ; and the retiring, modest, youth-
ful bearing, which among us distinguishes girls of
fifteen or sixteen, is equally unknown. Society is
entirely led by chits, who in England would be
sitting behind a pinafore; the consequence is, that
it has neither the elegance, refinement, nor the
propriety which belongs to ours; but is a noisy,
rackety, vulgar congregation of flirting boys and
girls, alike without style or decorum.* When
* When we arrived in America, we brought letters of in-
troduction to several persons in New York: many were
civil enough to call upon us: we were invited out to sundry
parties, and were introduced into what is there called the
first society. I do not wish to enter into any description of
it, but will only say that I was most disagreeably astonished ;
and had it been my fate to have passed through the country
as rapidly as most travellers do, I should have carried away
a very unfavourable impression of the best society of New
York. Fortunately, however, for me, my visits were re-
peated, and my stay prolonged; and, in the course of time,
I became acquainted with many individuals whose mannersJOURNAL.
203
Mr.-------was gone, practised till dinner time.
After dinner, practised for half an hour; marked
and acquirements were of a high order, and from whose in-
tercourse I derived the greatest gratification. But they
generally did me the favour to visit me; and I still could not
imagine how it happened that I never met them at the parties
to which I was invited, and in the circles where I visited. I
soon discovered that they formed a society among them-
selves, where all those qualities which I had looked for
among the self-styled best were to be found. When I name
Miss Sedgwick, Halleck, Irving, Bryant, Paulding, and some
of less fame, but whose acquirements rendered their com-
panionship delightful indeed, amongst whom I felt proud
and happy to find several of my own name, it will no longer
appear singular that they should feel too well satisfied with
the resources of their own society, either to mingle in that
of the vulgar fashionables, or seek with avidity the acquaint-
ance of every stranger that arrives in New York. It is not
to be wondered at that foreigners have spoken as they have
of what is termed fashionable society here, or have con-
demned, with unqualified censure, the manners and tone
prevailing in it. Their condemnations are true and just as
regards what they see; nor, perhaps, would they be much
inclined to moderate them when they found that persons
possessing every quality that can render intercourse between
rational creatures desirable were held in light esteem, and
neglected, as either bores, blues, or dowdies, by those so
infinitely their inferiors in every worthy accomplishment.
The same separation, or, if any thing, a still stronger one, sub-
sists in Philadelphia between the self-styled fashionables
and the really good society. The distinction there is really
of a nature perfectly ludicrous. A friend of mine was de-
scribing to me a family whose manners were unexception-
K 6204
JOURNAL.
journal, till time to go to the theatre; took coffee,
and away. The house was crammed again, and
the play better acted than I have ever seen it out
of London, though Mrs. Candour had stuck upon
her head a bunch of feathers which threatened the
gods ; and Lady Sneer well had dragged all her
able, and whose mental accomplishments were of a high
order: upon my expressing some surprise that I had never
met with them, my informant replied, “ Oh, no, they are
not received by the Chestnut Street set” If I were called
upon to define that society in New York and Philadelphia
which ranks (by right of self-arrogation) as first and best, I
should say it is a purely dancing society, where a fiddle is
indispensable to keep its members awake; and where their
brains and tongues seem, by common consent, to feel that
they had much better give up the care of mutual entertain-
ment to the feet of the parties assembled; and they judge
well. Now, I beg leave clearly to be understood, there is
another, and a far more desirable circle; but it is not the one
into which strangers find their way generally. To an En-
glishman, this fashionable society presents, indeed, a pitiful
sample of lofty pretensions without adequate foundation.
Here is a constant endeavour to imitate those states of
European society which have for their basis the feudal
spirit of the early ages, and which are rendered venerable by
their rank, powerful by their wealth, and refined, and in
some degree respectable, by great and general mental cul-
tivation. Of Boston, I have not spoken. The society there
is of an infinitely superior order. A very general degree of
information, and a much greater simplicity of maimers, render
it infinitely more agreeable. But of that hereafter.JOURNAL.
20 5
hair off her face, which needed to be as pretty as
it was, to endure such an exposure. I do not
wonder the New Yorkians did not approve of my
Lady Teazle. If, as------tells me, Mrs.------is
their idea of the perfection of good-breeding, well
may my delineation of a lady be condemned as
“ nothing particular.” Yet I am sorry I must
continue to lie under their censure, for I, unfor-
tunately for myself, have seen ladies, “ ripe and
real,” who, from all I can see, hear, and under-
stand, differ widely from the good manners of their
“ beau ideal.” The fact is, I am not “ genteel ”
enough, and I am conscious of it. The play went
off remarkably well. Came to bed at half-past
eleven.	*	*	*	#
#	*	#	#	#
Thursday, 18th.
Here is the end of October, the very mourning-
time of the year with us, and my room is full of
flowers, and the sun is so bright and powerful,
that it is impossible to go out with a shawl, or
without a parasol. Went to rehearsal at twelve;
at two, came in and habited; and at half-past two,
rode out with my father. We took the road to
the Schuylkill at once, through Arch Street, which206
JOURNAL.
is a fine, broad, long street, running parallel with
Chestnut Street. We walked along the road un-
der the intense sunlight that made all things look
sleepy around. Turning between some rising
banks, through a defile where the road wound up
a hill, we caught a glimpse of a white house stand-
ing on the sunny slope of a green rise. The undu-
lating grounds around were all bathed in warm
light, relieved only by the massy shadows of the
thick woods that sheltered them. It was a bit of
England.	*	*	*	*
*	#	#	#	#
Some good farming and tidy out-houses, and de-
pendencies, completed the resemblance, and made
me think that this must be the dwelling of some
of my own country people. How can they live
here ? Here, even in the midst of what is fair and
peaceful in nature, I think my home would haunt
me, and the far off chiming of the waves against
her white shores resound in my ears through the
smooth flowing of the Schuylkill.* After pursuing
* The beautiful villas on the banks of the Schuylkill are
all either utterly deserted and half ruinous, or let out by the
proprietors to tavern keepers. The reason assigned for this
is, that during that season of the year when it would be
most desirable to reside there, the fever and ague takes pos-
session of the place, and effectually banishes all other occu-
pants. This very extraordinary and capricious malady is asJOURNAL.
207
a level uninteresting road for some time, we turned
off to the right, and standing on the brow of a
uncertain in its residence, as unwelcome where it does fix its
abode. The courses of some of the rivers, and even whole
tracts of country away from the vicinity of the water, have
been desolated by it: from these it has passed away entirely,
and removed itself to other districts, before remarkably
healthy. Sometimes it visits particular places at intervals
of one or two seasons; sometimes it attaches itself to one
side of a river, and leaves the inhabitants of the other in the
enjoyment of perfect health; in short, it is quite as unac-
countable in its proceedings as a fine lady. Many causes
have been assigned as its origin; which, however, have
varied in credibility at almost every new appearance of the
malady. The enormous quantity of decaying vegetation
with which the autumn woods are strewn, year after year,
till it absolutely forms a second soil; the dam lately erected
by the water-works, and which, intercepting the tide, causes
occasional stagnation; the unwholesome action of water
lodging in hollows in the rocks; are all reasons which have
been given to me when I have enquired about this terrible
nuisance along the banks of the Schuylkill: but there is
another, and one which appeared so obvious to me that
when first I saw it, I felt much inclined to attribute the
fever and ague to that, and to that alone. I allude to a foul
and stagnant ditch, lying between the tow-path and the
grounds of these country houses, of nearly a mile in length,
and of considerable width. When I saw the sun pouring its
intense light down into this muddy pool, covered with thick
and unwholesome incrustations, I could not help remarking
that this alone was quite sufficient to breed a malaria in the
whole neighbourhood; and that if the gentlemen proprietors
of the lands along this part of the river would drain this
very poisonous looking repository for bull frogs, their dwell-
ings would, in all probability, be free from fever and ague.208
JOURNAL.
considerable declivity, had a most enchanting
glimpse of the Schuylkill and its woody shores.
The river makes a bend just above the water-
works, and the curving banks scooping themselves
form a lovely little sunny bay. It was more like
a lake, just here, than a flowing stream. The sky
was so blessedly serene, and the air so still, that
the pure deep-looking water appeared to sleep,
while the bright hues of the heavens, and the
glowing tints of the woody shores, were mirrored
with wondrous vividness on its bosom. I never
saw such gorgeousness, and withal such perfect
harmony of colouring. The golden sky, the
mingled green, brown, yellow, crimson, and dark
maroon, that clothed the thickets; the masses of
grey granite, with the vivid, mossy green that
clung round them; the sunny purple waters; the
warm, red colour of the road itself, as it wound
down below, with a border of fresh-looking turf
on either side of it; the radiant atmosphere of rosy
light that hung over all; all combined to present
a picture of perfect enchantment. The eye wTas
drunk with beauty.* How I thought of Mr. ——.
Indeed a painter would have gone crazy over it,
* This beautiful younger world appears to me to have
received the portion of the beloved younger son—the “ coat
of many colours.”JOURNAL.
209
and I, who am not a painter, was half crazy that
I was not. Though if I had been, what would it
have availed ? Such colours are from God’s pal-
let, and mortal hand may no more copy, than it
could mingle them. We rode on through scenery
of the same description, passing in our way a farm
and dairy, where the cattle were standing, not in
open pasture land, but in a corner of forest-ground,
all bright with the golden shedding of the trees;
it was very picturesque. A little runlet of water,
too, that held the middle of a tangled ravine, ran
glittering like a golden snake through the under-
wood, while the stems of the trees, and the light
foliage on the edge of the thick woody screens
were bathed in yellow sunshine. All around was
beautiful, and rich, and harmonious	to	the	eye,
and should have	been so to the spirit.	*	*
# # #	#	#
Returned home	at about half-past five,	dined at
six; found another beautiful nosegay waiting for
me, from my unknown furnisher of sweets. This
is almost as tantalising as it is civil; and I would
give half my lovely flowers to find out who sends
them to me. Distributed them all over the room,
and was as happy as a queen. Mr.--------------- called.
My father was obliged to go out upon business, so
D— and I had to entertain that worthy youth.210
JOURNAL.
He seems to have a wonderful veneration for a
parcel of scribblers whose names were never heard
of in England, beyond the limits of their own nar-
row coteries. But he speaks like an enthusiast of
the woods and waters of his glorious country, and
I excuse his taste in poetry. Now isn’t this strange,
that a man who can feel the amazing might, ma-
jesty, and loveliness of nature, can endure for a mo-
ment the mawkish scribbling of these poetasters ?
Verily, we be anomalous beasts. #	*
# # # * #
AUTUMN.
Thou comest not in sober guise,
In mellow cloak of russet clad —
Thine are no melancholy skies,
Nor hueless flowers pale and sad;
But, like an emperor, triumphing,
With gorgeous robes of Tyrian dyes,
Full flush of fragrant blossoming,
And glowing purple canopies.
How call ye this the season’s fall,
That seems the pageant of the year,
Richer and brighter far than all
The pomp that spring and summer wear ?
Red falls the westering light of day
On rock and stream and winding shore;
Soft woody banks and granite grey
With amber clouds are curtained o’er;JOURNAL.
211
The wide clear waters sleeping lie
Beneath the evening’s wings of gold,
And on their glassy breast the sky
And banks their mingled hues unfold.
Far in the tangled woods, the ground
Is strewn with fallen leaves, that lie
Like crimson carpets all around
Beneath a crimson canopy.
The sloping sun with arrows bright
Pierces the forest’s waving maze;
The universe seems wrapt in light, —
A floating robe of rosy haze.
Oh, Autumn! thou art here a king;
And round thy throne the smiling hours
A thousand fragrant tributes bring
Of golden fruits and blushing flowers.
Oh ! not upon thy fading fields and fells
In such rich garb doth Autumn come to thee,
My home! — but o’er thy mountains and thy dells
His footsteps fall slowly and solemnly.
Nor flower nor bud remaineth there to him,
Save the faint-breathing rose, that, round the year,
Its crimson buds and pale soft blossoms dim,
In lowly beauty constantly doth wear.
O’er yellow stubble lands, in mantle brown,
He wanders through the wan October light;
Still as he goeth, slowly stripping down
The garlands green that were the spring’s delight.
At morn and eve thin silver vapours rise
Around his path; but sometimes at mid-day
He looks along the hills with gentle eyes,
That make the sallow woods and fields seem gay,212
JOURNAL*
Yet something of sad sov’reignty he hath —
A sceptre crown’d with berries ruby red;
And the cold sobbing wind bestrews his path
With wither’d leaves that rustle ’neath his tread;
And round him still, in melancholy state,
Sweet solemn thoughts of death and of decay,
In slow and hush’d attendance, ever wait,
Telling how all things fair must pass away.
Tuesday, 23d.
At ten o’clock, went to rehearsal. Rehearsed
the Hunchback, and then Fazio: this is tolerably
hard work, with acting every night: we don’t
steal our money, that’s one comfort. Came home,
found a letter for me in a strange hand.	*
# # % # #
Went on with my letter to--------: while doing so,
was interrupted by the entrance of a strange
woman, who sat herself down, apparently in much
confusion. She told me a story of great distress,
and claimed my assistance as a fellow-country-
woman. I had not a farthing of money : D-----------
and my father were out; so I took the reference
she gave me, and promised to enquire into her
condition. The greatest evil arising from the many
claims of this sort which are made upon us, wherever
we go, is the feeling of distrust and suspicion whichJOURNAL.
213
they engender, and the sort of excuse which they
teach us to apply plausibly to our unwillingness to
answer such demands. “ Oh, ten to one, an im-
postor,is soon said, and instances enough may
unfortunately be found to prove the probability of
such a conclusion. Yet in this sweeping con-
demnation, one real case of misery may be in-
cluded, and that possibility should make us pause,
for 9t is one that, if afterwards detected, may be the
source of heavy condemnation, and bitter regret
to ourselves, f	*	*	*	*
f This country is in one respect blessed above all others,
and above all others deserving of blessing. There are no poor
— I say there are none, there need be none; none here need
lift up the despairing voice of hopeless and helpless want,
towards that Heaven which hears when men will not. No
father here need work away his body’s health, and his spirit’s
strength, in unavailing labour, from day to day, and from
year to year, bowed down by the cruel curse his fellows lay
upon him. No mother need wish, in the bitterness of her
heart, that the children of her breast had died before they
exhausted that nourishment which was the only one her
misery could feel assured would not fail them. None need
be born to vice, for none are condemned to abject poverty.
Oh, it makes the heart sick to think of all the horrible an-
guish that has been suffered by thousands and thousands of
those wretched creatures, whose want begets a host of
moral evils fearful to contemplate; whose existence begins
in poverty, struggles on through care and toil, and heart-
grinding burdens, and ends in destitution, in sickness, — alas!
too often in crime and infamy. Thrice blessed is this coun-214f	JOURNAL.
% * * * #
*****
The fact is, that to give well, one should give
equally one’s trouble with one’s money: the one
in all cases, the other where one’s enquiries are
satisfactorily answered.—Received a purple bound,
gilt-edged periodical, published at Boston, from
Mr.--.	*	*	*	*
* * * * *
* * * * *
The literary part of the book seems much on a
par with that of similar works in England, but there
was a wide difference in the excellence of the
engravings. There was one from that pretty
picture, the Bride’s Maid; a coarse, bad engraving,
try, for no such crying evil exists in its bosom; no such
moral reproach, no such political rottenness. Not only is
the eye never offended with those piteous sights of human
suffering, which make one’s heart bleed, and whose number
appals one’s imagination in the thronged thoroughfares of
the European cities; but the mind reposes with delight in
the certainty that not one human creature is here doomed
to suffer and to weep through life; not one,immortal soul is
thrown into jeopardy by the combined temptations of its own
misery, and the heartless selfishness of those who pass it by
without holding out so much as a finger to save it. If we
have any faith in the excellence of mercy and benevolence,
we must believe that this alone will secure the blessing of
Providence on this country.JOURNAL.
215
but yet how much of the sadness of the original
it recalled to me. It is a painful thing to look at:
it brings before one too much of the sorrow of life,
of the anguish that has been endured; that is daily,
hourly, endured in this prison-house of torments.
After dinner, went on writing to —, till time to
go to the theatre. The house was not as full as I
had expected, though a good one enough. My
father looked wonderfully well and young: there
is certainly some difference in acting with him, but
this part fatigues me horribly.
Wednesday, 24>th.
Went to rehearsal at eleven; at half-past one,
went with D------to find out something about my
yesterday’s poor woman. The worst of it is, that
my trouble involves necessarily the trouble of
somebody else, as I cannot go trotting and ex-
ploring about by myself. The references were
sufficiently satisfactory, that is, they proved that
she was poor, and in distress, and willing to work.
I gave her what I could, and the man by whom
she is employed seems anxious to afford her work;
so I hope she will get on a little. The “ God
bless you,” of gratitude, even if uttered by guileful
and unworthy lips, is surely yet a blessing if it216
JOURNAL.
alights on those who are seeking to do good. And
if I were assured that that woman was the veriest
impostor under the sun, I still should hope her
prayer might descend with profit on my head; for
I was sincere in my desire to do well by her.
Came home, wrote a letter to----------, finished one
to------; and went to the theatre. It seems there
have been,
“ Bloody noses and crack’d crowns,
And all the currents of a heady fight,”
at the box-office, and truly the house bore witness
thereto; for it was crammed from floor to ceiling.
The play was the Hunchback. I played very
well, in spite of no green carpet, and no letter in
the letter scene, which lost one of my favourite
points; one, by the by, that I am fond of, because
it is all my own.	*	*	*
# #	#	#	#
# #	#	#	#
Thursday, 25th.
After breakfast, went to rehearsal. Came home,
put out things for the theatre, made myself a belt;
received a whole bundle of smart annuals from
Mr.	spent some time in looking over theirJOURNAL.
217
engravings. My gown looked very handsome, but
my belt was too small; had to make another. The
house was good, but not great. I played only so-so:
the fact is, it is utterly impossible to play to this
audience at all. They are so immovable, such
very stocks and stones, that one is fairly exhausted
with labouring to excite them, before half one’s
work is done.	#	#	*	#
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	*	*
AUTUMN SONG.
The merriest time of all the year
Is the time when the leaves begin to fall,
When the chestnut-trees turn yellow and sear,
And the flowers are withering one and all;
When the thick green sward is growing brown,
And the honeysuckle berries are red,
And the oak is shaking its acorns down,
And the dry twigs snap ’neath the woodman’s tread.
The merriest dance that e’er was seen
Is the headlong dance of the whirling leaves,
And the rattling stubble that flies between
The yellow ranks of the barley sheaves.
The merriest song that e’er was heard
Is the song of the sobbing autumn wind;
When the thin bare boughs of the elm are stirr’d,
And shake the black ivy round them twined
VOL. I.
L218
JOURNAL.
The merriest time of all the year
Is the time when all things fade and fall,
When the sky is bleak, and the earth is drear,
Oh, that’s the merriest month of all.
Friday, 26tk.
While I was dressing, D---------, like a good
angel, came in with three letters from England
in her hand.	*	*	#	*
#	#	#	#	*
The love of excellent friends is one of God’s
greatest blessings, and deserves our utmost thank-
fulness. The counsel of sound heads and the
affection of Christian spirits is a staff of support,
and a spring of rejoicing through life.	*
# # # # *
A Mr., Mrs., and young Mr.---------, called upon
us : they are the only inhabitants of this good city
who have done us that honour.	*	*
#	#	#	*	#
As soon as my father came in, we sallied forth
to see the giantess of a ship the Americans have
been building, to thresh us withal. I hooked my-
self up to------, and away we strode; D-------and
my father struggling after us, as best they might.
The day was most beautiful; bright, sunny, and
fresh. After walking at an immense pace for someJOURNAL.
219
time, we bethought us of looking for our poursui-
vants; but neither sign nor vestige appeared of
them. We stood still and waited, and went on,
and stood still again. ------looked foolish at me,
and I foolish at him: at length we wisely agreed
that they had probably made the best of their way
to the Navy yard, and thither we proceeded. We
found them, according to our expectations, waiting
for us, and proceeded to enter the building where
this lady of the seas was propped upon a hundred
stays; surrounded with scaffolding, with galleries
running round from the floor to the ceiling. We
went on deck; in fact, the Pennsylvania has been
boarded by the English in our person, before she
sets foot on the sea. How I should like to see that
ship launched ; how she will sweep down from her
holdings, and settle to the water, as a swan before
swimming out! How the shores will resound with
living voices, applauding her like a living creature;
how much of national pride, of anticipated triumph,
will be roused in every heart, as her huge wings
first unfold their shadow over the sea, and she
moves abroad, the glory and the wonder of the
deep ! How, if this ship should ever lie in an
English harbour ? If I were an American on board
of her, I would sooner blow her up with all the
“ precious freighting souls” within her, than see
L 2220
JOURNAL.
such a consummation. When my wonderment
had a little subsided, it occurred to me that she
would not, perhaps, be so available a battle ship
as one of a smaller size: it must be impossible to
manoeuvre her with any promptitude.	*
# * # # #
My father and------indulged in sundry right
English bits of bragging, as they stood at her
stern, looking down the enormous deck. I wish
I knew her exact measurements : she is the largest
ship ever built, larger than any East Indiaman;
the largest ship in the world. How the sea will
groan under her; nathless in a storm I would
rather be in the veriest nutshell that ever was
flung from wave-top to wave-top. How she
would sink ! she would go down like another At-
lantis, poor ship ! I have an amazing horror of
drowning. Came home just in time to dine.
After dinner, wrote letters; at six, went to the
theatre; play, Hunchback; played so-so: the
audience are detestable. The majority are so
silent that they not only do not applaud the acting,
but most religiously forbear to notice all noises
in the house, in consequence of which some impu-
dent women amused themselves with talking
during the whole play, much “ louder than the
players.” At one time their impertinent racketJOURNAL.
221
so bewildered me, that I was all but out, and this
without the audience once interfering to silence
them ; perhaps, however, that would have been an
unwarrantable interference with the sacred liberties
of the people. I indulged them with a very signi-
ficant glance; and at one moment was most strongly
tempted to request them to hold their tongues.
Saturday, 27tlu
The poor sick lady, whose pretty children I
met running about the stairs, sent to say she
should be very glad if I would go in and see her:
I had had sundry inward promptings to this effect
before, but was withheld by the real English
dread of intruding. At eleven, went to rehearsal:
on my return, called on Mrs.---------.	*
%	#	#	#	#
• #	#	#	#	#
She interested me most extremely : I would have
stayed long with her, but feared she might ex-
haust herself by the exertion of conversing. On
my I'eturn to my own room, I sent her Mr.---------’s
annuals, and the volume of Mrs. Hemans’s poetry
he lent me. Began practising, when in walked
that interesting youth, Mr.-------, with a nosegay,
as big as himself, in his hand. Flowers, — sweet
l 3222
JOURNAL.
blooming, fresh, delicious flowers,—in the last days
of October; the very sackcloth season of the
year. How they do rejoice my spirit. He sat
some time, making most excessively fine speeches
to me: while he was here, arrived another bou-
quet from my unknown friend; how nice, to be
sure ! all but not knowing who they come from.
When my visiter was gone, wrote to------------ till
dinner-time. After dinner, spent nearly the whole
afternoon in dressing my pretty flowers. Sent
some of them in to Mrs. ---------. I don't know
why, but it seemed a sad present to make to her;
for I almost fear she will never see the blossoms
of another year. Yet why do I say that ?—is not
heaven brighter than even this flowery earth ?
#	#	#	#	*
#	#	#	*	#
Finished my letter to------; went to the theatre.
My benefit: the Provoked Husband. The house
was very good. I played so-so, and looked very
nice. What fine breeding this play is, to be sure:
it is quite refreshing to act it; but it must be
heathen Greek to the American exclusives, I
should think.JOURNAL.
223
Sunday, 28th.
Had only time to swallow a mouthful of break-*
fast, and off to church. I must say it requires a
deal of fortitude to go into an American church:
there are no pew openers, and the people appear
to rush indifferently into any seats that are vacant.
We went into a pew where there were two women
and a man, who did not take up one half of it;
but who, nevertheless, looked most ungracious at
our coming into it. They did not move to make
way or accommodate us, but remained, with very
discourteous, unchristian-like sulkiness, spread over
twice as much space as they required. The spirit of
independence seems to preside paramount, even in
the house of God. This congregation, by fre-
quenting an Episcopalian temple, evidently pro-
fessed the form of faith of the English church;
yet they neither uttered the responses, nor observed
any one of the directions in the Common Prayer-
book. Thus, during portions of the worship
where kneeling is enjoined, they sat or stood; and
while the Creed was being read, half the auditors
were reclining comfortably in their pews: the
same thing with the Psalms, and all parts of the
service. I suppose their love of freedom will not
L 4224.
JOURNAL.
suffer them to be amenable to forms, or wear the
exterior of humbleness and homage, even in the
house of the Most High God.# The whole ap-
pearance of the congregation was that of indif-
ference, indolence, and irreverence, and was highly
displeasing to my eye. After church, came home,
* Throughout all the northern states, and particularly
those of New England, the Unitarian form of faith prevails
very extensively. It appears to me admirably suited to the
spiritual necessities of this portion of the Americans. They
are a reasoning, not an imaginative,^race; moreover, they are
a hard-working, not an idle, one. It therefore suits their
necessities, as well as their character, to have a religious
creed divested at once of mysteries at which the rational
mind excepts; and of long and laborious ceremonies, which
too often engross the time without the attention of the wor-
shipper. They are poor, too, comparatively speaking; and
were they so inclined, could little afford, either the splendid
pageantry which the Romish priesthood require, or the less
glaring, but not less expensive revenues which the Episco-
palian clergy enjoy. Their form of religion is a simple one>
a short one, and a cheap one. Without attempting to dis-
cuss its excellence in the abstract, it certainly appears to me
to be as much fitted for this people, as the marvellous le-
gends and magnificent shows of the Romish church were to
the early European nations. The church in America is not,
as with us, made a mere means of living: there are no rich
benefices, or over-swelled bishoprics, to be hoped for, by the
man who devotes himself to the service of God’s altar: the
pecuniary remuneration of the clergy depends upon the
generosity of their congregations; and, for the most part, a
sincere love of his vocation must be the American minister’s
reward, as it was his original instigation to the work,.JOURNAL.
28 5
and began writing to------.	-----called. He sat
some time mending pens for me; and at half-past
one D------, he, and I packed ourselves into a
coach, and proceeded on to Fair Mount, where
we got out, and left the coach to wait for us.
The day was bright and bitter cold: the keen
spirit-like wind came careering over the crisping
waters of the broad river, and carried across the
cloudless blue sky the golden showers from the
shivering woods. They had not lost their beauty
yet; though some of their crimsqn robes were
turned to palest yellow, and through the thin
foliage, the dark boughs, and rugged barks showed
distinctly, yet the sun shone joyfully on them, and
they looked beautiful still; and so did the water,
curled into a thousand mimic billows, that came
breaking their crystal heads along the curving
shore, which, with its shady indentings and bright
granite promontories, seemed to lock the river in,
and gave it the appearance of a lovely lake. We
took the tow-path, by D------’s desire; but found
(alas, that it is ever so !) that it was distance lent
enchantment to the view. For, though it was very
pretty, it had lost some of the beauty it seemed to
wear, when we looked down upon it from the
woody heights that skirt the road.
On we went,-------and I moderating our strides
l 5JOURNAL.
to keep pace with D------; and she, puffing, pant-
ing, and struggling on to keep pace with us; yet
I was perished, and she was half melted : like all
compromises, it was but a botched business. The
wind was deliciously fresh; and I think, as we
buffeted along in its very face, we should have
made an admirable subject for Bunbury. I, with
my bonnet off, my combs out, and all my hair
flying about, hooked up to--------, who, willow-
like, bent over me, to facilitate my reaching his
arm. D--------following in the rear, her cap and
hair half over her face, her shawl and clothes
fluttering in the blast, her cheeks the colour of
crimson, which, relieved by her green bonnet,
whose sides she grappled tightly down to balk
the wind, had much the effect of a fine carnation
bursting its verdant sheath. I never saw any
thing half so absurd in my life, as we all looked*
Yet it was very pleasant and wholesome, good for
soul and body. After walking for some time, I
asked D------- the hour. It was three, and we
were to dine at four, in order to accommodate the
servants, who, in this land of liberty, make com-
plete slaves of their masters. Horror took pos-
session of us, — how were we ever to get back in
time ? To turn back was hopeless: the endless
eurvings of the shore, however much we hadjournal*
227
admired their graceful sinuosities before, would
now have appeared abominable to our straight-
forward designs of home, so we agreed to climb
the hill and take the upper road — and what a
hill it was ! — the sun poured his intense rays
down upon it; and, what with the heat and the
wind, and the steep path-way, I thought poor
D------would have died. We turned once as we
reached the summit, and I never saw any thing
more lovely than the scene we were leaving behind
us. The beautiful blue water winding far away
between its woody shores; close below the hill, a
small reed-crowned island lying like a gem on the
bright river, and a little beyond, the unfinished
arches of a white bridge : the opposite shores
were bathed with the evening light, and far away
the varied colours of the autumnal woods were
tinged with the golden glory of sunset. But we
were pursued by the thought of four o’clock, and
paused but a moment. On we struggled, and at
last my frozen blood began to warm; and by the
time we reached the carriage, I was in a fine
glow. Certainly exercise is, in itself, very de-
lightful, but in scenes like these it is doubly so 4
the spirit is roused to activity by the natural
beauties around, and the fancy and feelings seem
to acquire vigour from the quick circulation of the
L 6228
JOURNAL,
blood, and the muscular energy of the limbs; it
is highly excellent.* We jumped into the coach,
adjured the man by all the saints in the calendar
* Whatever progress phrenology may have made in the
convictions of people in general, it is much to be hoped, that
the physiological principles to which, in the developement of
their system, its professors constantly advert, may find
favour even with those who are not prepared to admit the
truth of the new philosophy of the human intellect. While
we have bodies as well as souls, we must take care of the
health of our bodies, if we wish our souls to be healthy. I
have heard many people mention the intimate union of spirit
and matter, displayed in the existence of a human being, as
highly degrading to the former; however that may be, it is
certain that we by no means show our value for the one, by
neglecting and maltreating the other; and that if instead of
lamenting over the unworthiness of the soul’s fleshy partner?
we were to improve and correct, and endeavour to ennoble
it, we should do the wiser thing. Upon a well-regulated
digestion and circulation, and a healthful nervous system,
many of our virtues depend, much of our happiness; and it
is almost as impossible to possess a healthy and vigorous
mind in a diseased and debilitated body, as it is unusual to
see a strong and healthful body allied to an intemperate and
ill-governed spirit. We have some value for the casket which
contains our jewel: then should we not have some for that
casket to which the jewel absolutely adheres, and which can-
not suffer injury itself without communicating it to that
which it contains ? Exercise, regularity, and moderation in
diet and sleep, well proportioned and varied studies and re-
creations,—these are none of them subjects of trivial import-
ance to the wise. Much of our ease and contentedness
depends upon them; much of our well-being, much of our
well-doing.JOURNAL.
229
to put wings to his chariot wheels, and sat con-
cocting plausible lies, by way of excuses, all the
way home. At last we hit upon an admirable
invention. The cause of our being so late was to
be, that we stopped to render our assistance in
reviving an unfortunate young woman, (a lovely
creature, of course,) who had thrown herself into
the Schuylkill, in consequence of some love dis-
appointment, and who was withdrawn just in time
to be preserved. -----was to tell this story with
the gravest face he could summon for the occa-
sion, while we went up to dress, and when we
came down we were to corroborate his statement
as correctly as good chance might enable us. We
dressed in half a minute, and found Mr.---------
sitting with my father, and---looking amazingly
demure. It seemed, however, that no remark
had been made, nor question asked, about our
protracted perambulations, so that we had actually
thrown awray all our ingenuity. This vexed me so
much, that in the middle of dinner I introduced the
topic of drowning, and, with a lamentable face,
related the circumstance; but, alas! one of my
auditors was occupied with a matelotte dyanquilles^
another with an oyster vol-au-vent, and all the
pretty girls in creation might have been drowned,
without the loss in any degree affecting the evi-230
JOURNAL.
dent satisfaction which the above subjects of me-
ditation seemed to afford the gentlemen: what
selfish brutes men are ! shocking. Our invention
was thus twice thrown away : one said “ Humph ! ”
and the other “ Ha ! ” and that was the extent of
their sympathy. After dinner, came up to my
own room, lay down, and fairly slept till coffee
was announced. Came down with half an eye
open, and found the circle augmented by the
delectable presence of Mr.-------. What an ori-
ginal that youth is. They talked politics, abused
republicanism, lauded aristocracy, drank tea, took
snuff, ate cakes, and pottered a deal. My father
was going fast asleep, —----was making a thou-
sand signs to me to go to the piano, when Mr.
— rose to depart: the other gentlemen took
the hint, and left us at half-past ten.
Tuesday, 30th.
At eleven o’clock, went to rehearsal: came home,
began letter to ——. Called with my father upon
Mrs.-------: the servant committed that awfullest
of blunders, letting one into the house, and then
finding out that nobody was at home.* Came
* I think it has not been my good fortune, in more than
six instances, during my residence in this country, to findJOURNAL.
231
home, practised for some time: all of a sudden
the door opened, and in walked Colonel--------------
with my father. He had just arrived from New
ladies “ at home” in the morning. The first reason for this
is, the total impossibility of having a housekeeper; the
American servants steadfastly refusing to obey tivo mistresses;
the being subservient to any appears, indeed, a dreadful
hardship to them. Of course this compels the lady of the
house to enter into all those minute daily details, which with
us devolve upon the superintendent servant, and she is thus
condemned, at least for some part of the morning, to the
store-room or the kitchen. In consequence of this, her toilet
is seldom completed until about to take her morning pro-
menade ; and I have been a good deal surprised, more than
once, at being told, when I called, that “ the ladies were
dressing, but would be down immediately.” This is French;
the disorderly slouching about half the morning in a careless
undress being, unluckily, quite compatible with that exquisite
niceness of appearance with which the Parisian ladies edify
their streets so much, and their homes so little. Another
very disagreeable result of this arrangement is, that when
you are admitted into a house in the morning, the rooms ap-
pear as if they never were used: there are no books lying
about, no work-tables covered with evidences of constant
use, and if there is a piano, it is generally closed; the whole
giving one an uninhabited feel that is extremely uncomfort-
able. As to a morning lounge in a lady’s boudoir, or a gen-
tleman’s library, the thing’s unheard of; to be sure there are
no loungers, where every man is tied to a counting-house
from morning till night; and therefore no occasion for those
very pleasant sanctums devoted to gossiping, political, literary,
and scandalous.232
JOURNAL.
York. He dined with us. After dinner, finished
letter to ——. At six, went to the theatre. The
house was very good; play, Much Ado about
Nothing. I played well; but what an audience it
is ! I have been often recommended, in cases of
nervousness on the stage, to consider the au-
dience as just so many cabbages, and, indeed, a
small stretch of fancy would enable me to do so
here. Colonel-------- supped with us. Found an
invitation to dinner from the -------.	“ One ex-
ception makes a rule,” say the scholars; by that
same token, therefore, the Philadelphians are
about the most inhospitable set of people it ever
was my good fortune to fall in with.# Towards
* I am sure there is no town in Europe where my father
could fix his residence for a week, without being immediately
found out by most of the residents of any literary acquire-
ments, or knowledge of matters relating to art; I am sure
that neither in France, Italy, or Germany, could he take up
his abode in any city, without immediately being sought by
those best worth knowing in it. I confess it surprised me,
therefore, when I found that, ^during a month’s residence in
Philadelphia, scarcely a creature came near us, and but one
house was hospitably opened to us; as regards myself, I have
no inclination whatever to speak upon the subject; but it
gave me something like a feeling of contempt, not only for
the charities, but for the good taste of the Philadelphians,
when I found them careless and indifferent towards one
whose name alone is a passport into every refined and cul-JOURNAL.
233
the end of supper, we fell into a strange discussion
as to the nature of existence. A vain and fruit-
less talk, after all; for life shall be happy or sad,
not, indeed, according to its events, but according
to the nature of the individuals to whom these
events befall. Colonel-------maintained that life
was in itself desirable; abounding in blessings,
replete with comforts, a fertile land, where still,
as one joy decays, another springs up to flourish
in its place. He said that he felt thankful every
day, and every hour of the day, for his existence;
that he feared death, only because life was an
absolute enjoyment, and that he would willingly,
to-morrow, accept the power of beginning his
again, even though he should be placed on the
world’s threshold, a lonely, friendless beggar: so
sure was he that his prospects would brighten,
and friends spring up to him, and plenty reward
labour, and life become pleasant, ere it had grown
many years old. How widely human beings
differ ! It was but an hour before, that I, in
tivated society in Europe. Every where else, in America,
our reception was very different; and I can only attribute the
want of courtesy we met with in Philadelphia to the greater
prevalence of that very small spirit of dignity which is always
afraid of* committing itself.234
JOURNAL.
counting how many stars I had already seen go down
below the horizon of existence—Weber, Lawrence,
Scott, all of whom I have known, — was saying to
D-----, “ How sad a thing, and strange, life is ! ”
adding, what I repent me for, “ I wish that I
were dead ! ” Oh, how can any human being, who
looks abroad into the world, and within upon
himself, who sees the wondroiis mystery of all
things, the unabidingness which waits on all
matter, the imperfection which clogs all spirit;
who notes the sovereignty of change over the
inanimate creation, of disease, decay, and death
over man’s body, of blindness and delusion over
his mind, of sin over his soul; who beholds the
frailty of good men; who feels the miserable in-
consistency of his own nature; the dust and ashes
of which our love, and what we love, is made; the
evil that, like an unwholesome corpse, still clings
to our good; the sorrow that, like its shadow, still
walks behind our joy;—oh, who that sees all this
can say that this life is other than sad—most sad ?
Yet, while I write this, God forbid that I should
therefore want eyes to see, or sense to feel, the
blessings wherewith he has blessed it; the re-
wards with which he sweetens our task, the flowers
wherewith he cheers our journey’s road, the many
props wherewith he supports our feet in it. YetJOURNAL.
235
of all these, the sweetest, the brightest, the
strongest, are those which our soul draws from him,
the end of its desire, not those it finds here. And
how should not that spirit yearn for its accom-
plishment? If we seek knowledge here, a thousand
mists arise between our incapable senses and the
truth; how, then, should we not wish to cast away
this darkness, and soar to the fountains of all
light? If we strive to employ those faculties
which, being of our soul, have the strength and
enduring of immortality, the objects whereon we
expend them here are vague, evanescent, dis-
appointing; how then should we not desire to
find food for our capacities, abiding as themelves ?
If we long to love — ah, are not the creatures in
whom we centre our affections frail, capable of
change; perishable, born to decay? How then
should we not look with unutterable yearning for
that life where affection is unchangeable, eternal ?
Surely, if all the hopes, the fears, the aims, the
tendings of our soul, have but their beginning here,
it is most natural, it is most fitting, to turn to that
future where they shall be fulfilled. But there
ds a road between. *	#	*
* # # # #
A break—a break—a break ! So much the bet-23 G
JOURNAL.
ter ; for the two last days have been nothing but
annoyance, hardwork, and heartache. #	#
# # # # #
Friday, 'November 2d.
A bright sunny day; too hot for a fire; windows
open, shutters closed, and the room full of flowers.
How the sweet summer-time stays lingering here.
Found Colonel-------in the drawing-room. After
breakfast, began writing to -------. Mr. -------
called: he stayed but a short time, and went out
with Colonel--------. My father went out soon
after, and I began to practise. Mrs.-------came
in and sat with me: she played to me, and sang
Should those fond hopes ever leave thee.” Her
voice was as thin as her pale transparent hands.
She appeared to me much better than when last
I saw her; but presently told me she had just
been swallowing eighty drops of laudanum, poor
thing ! When she was gone, went on practising,
and writing, till my father came home. Walked
with him and D— to call on old Lady-------------.
The day was so hot that I could scarcely endure
my boa. The election was going on ; the streets
full of rabblement, the air full of huzzaing, and
the sky obscured with star-spangled banners, andJOURNAL.
237
villanous transparencies of “ Old Hickory
hung out in all directions. We went round the
Town House, and looked at the window out of
which Jefferson read the Act of Independence,
that proclaimed the separation between England
and America, f Called at a music-shop, tossed
* The familiar appellation by which the democracy de-
signate their favourite, General Jackson. The hickory
wood is the tallest and the toughest possible, and by no
means a bad type of some of the President’s physical and
moral attributes. Hickory poles, as they are called, are
erected before most of the taverns frequented by the
thorough-going Jacksonites; and they are sometimes sur-
mounted by the glorious a Cap of Liberty,” that much
abused symbol, which has presided over so many scenes of
political frenzy.
f In beholding this fine young giant of a world, with all
its magnificent capabilities for greatness, I think every En-
glishman must feel unmingled regret at the unjust and unwise
course of policy which alienated such a child from the
parent government. But, at the same time, it is impossible
to avoid seeing that some other course must, ere long, have
led to the same result, even if England had pursued a more
maternal course of conduct towards America. No one, be-
holding this enormous country, stretching from ocean to
ocean, watered with ten thousand glorious rivers, combining
every variety of climate and soil, therefore, every variety of
produce and population; possessing within itself every re-
source that other nations are forced either to buy abroad, or
to create substitutes for at home; no one, seeing the in-
ternal wealth of America, the abundant fertility of the
earth’s surface, the riches heaped below it, the unparalleled238
JOURNAL.
over heaps of music, bought some, and ordered
some to be sent home for me to look over. Came
facilities for the intercourse of men, and the interchange of
their possessions throughout its vast extent, can for an in-
stant indulge the thought that such a country was ever
destined to be an appendage to any other in the world, or
that any chain of circumstances whatever could have long
maintained in dependence a people furnished with every
means of freedom and greatness. But far from regretting
that America has thrown off her allegiance, and regarding her
as a rebellious subject, and irreverent child, England will
surely, ere long, learn to look upon this country as the in-
heritor of her glory; the younger England, destined to per-
petuate the language, the memory, the virtues of the noble
land from which she is descended. Loving and honouring
my country as I do, I cannot look upon America with any
feeling of hostility. I not only hear the voice of England in
the language of this people, but I recognise in all their best
qualities, their industry, their honesty, their sturdy inde-
pendence of spirit, the very witnesses of their origin — they
are English; no other people in the world would have licked
us as they did; nor any other people in the world built
up, upon the ground they won, so sound, and strong, and
fair an edifice.
With regard to what I have said in the beginning of this
note, of the many reasons which combined to render this
country independent of all others, I think they in some
measure tell against the probability of its long remaining at
unity with itself. Such numerous and clashing interests;
such strong and opposite individuality of character between
the northern and southern states; above all, such enormous
extent of country ; seem rationally to present many pointsJOURNAL.
239
home, put out things for the theatre. Dined at
three. *****
#	#	#	#	#	1
#	#	#	*	#
Received another beautiful nosegay. After din-
ner, went on with letter to --------; tried over my
music; Heber’s song that I wanted is not among
them. At six, w7ent to the theatre. The sunset
was glorious, the uprising of the moon most
beautiful. There is an intensity, an earnestness
about the colour of the sky, and the light of its
bright inhabitants here, that is lovely and solemn,
beyond any thing I ever saw. Can Italy have
brighter heavens than these ? surely, nothing can
exceed the beauty of these days and nights. We
were obliged to go all manner of roundabouts to
the play-house, in order to avoid the rabble that
choked up the principal streets. I, by way of
striking salutary awe into the hearts of all rioters
who might come across our path, brandished my
father’s sword out of the coach window the whole
way along. The play was Venice Preserved; my
father played Jaffier.	#	#	#
# # # # %
of insecurity; many probabilities of separations and break-
irgsasunder; but all this lies far on, and I leave it to those
v ho have good eyes for a distance.240
JOURNAL.
I played pretty well. The house was very good;
but at the end I really was half dead. #
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	*	#	#
On our return home, met a procession of
electioneerers carrying triangular paper lanterns
upon poles, with “ sentiments ” political scribbled
thereon, which, however, I could not distinguish.
Found a most exquisite nosegay waiting for me
at home, so sweet, so brilliant, so fragrant, and
fresh. *****
# # # # *
Found nothing for supper that I could fancy.
Drank some tea, wrote journal. Colonel-----------
came in after supper, and wondered that I had
played better to my father’s Jaffier, than to Mr.
KeppeFs. Heaven bless the world, for a con-
glomerated amalgamation of fools !
Monday, 5th.
Guy Fawlk’s day, and no squibs, no firing of
pistols, no bonfires, nor parading about of fero-
cious looking straw men. Ah ! these poor people
never had a king and two houses of parliament,
and don’t know what a mercy it is they weren’t
blown up before they passed the reform bill.JOURNAL.
24*1
Now if such an accident should occur to them,
they’d all be sure to be blown straight into
heaven, and hang there. Rose at half-past five.
Oh, I quite agree with the Scotch song,
“ Up in the morning’s na for me,
Up in the morning early;
^	I ’d rather watch a winter’s night,
Than rise in the morning early.”
Dressed myself by candle light. Mrs.-----------sent
in to ask me if I would see her, but I had not
time. Sent her a note, and received, in exchange,
the seed of what I suspect is the wood laurel,
common in this country, but unknown in ours.
Started from the Mansion House (which is a
very nice inn, kept by the civilest of people,) at
six, and reached the quay just in time to meet
the first rosy breaking of the clouds over the
Delaware.	*	*	*
#	*	#	#	%
#	#	#	#	#
I am sorry to leave Philadelphia. I like the
town, and the little I have seen of its inhabitants,
very much; I mean in private, for they are in-
tolerable audiences. There is an air of stability,
of well to do, and occasionally of age, in the
town, that reminds me of England. Then, as
VOL. I.	M242
JOURNAL.
far as my yesterday’s dinner will allow me to judge*
I should say, that not only the style of living,
but the society was superior to that which I saw
in New York. Certainly, both the entertainment
itself, and the guests, were irreproachable; the
first was in very good taste, the latter appeared
to me well-informed, and very agreeable. The
morning, in spite of all -------5s persuasive pro-
phecies, was beautiful beyond description. The
river like the smoothest glass. The sky was
bright and cloudless, and along the shores, the
distinctness with which each smallest variation of
form, or shade of colour, was reflected in the
clear mirror of the Delaware, was singularly beau-
tiful and fairy-like. The tints of the woods were
what no words can convey the slightest idea of.
Now, a whole track of withered .oaks, of a red
brick hue, like a forest scorched with fire; now,
a fresh thicket of cedars, of the brightest green ;
then, wide screens of mingled trees, where the
foliage was one gorgeous mixture of vermilion,
dark maroon, tender green, golden yellow, and
deep geranium. The whole land at a distance
appearing to lie under an atmosphere of glowing
colour, richer than any crimson mantle that ever
clothed the emperors of the olden world; all
this, illuminated by a sun, which we should haveJOURNAL.
243
thought too hot for June. It was very beautiful. I
did not, however, see much of it, for I was overcome
with fatigue, and slept, both in the steam-boat,
and in the stage-coach. When we embarked on the
Raritan, I had intended lying down in the cabin,
and taking my sleep fairly out, but the jolting of
those bitter roads had made every one of the
women sick, and the cabin was horrible beyond
expression. Came up on deck, and worked till
within a quarter of a mile of New York, when I
went on the upper deck, and walked about with
Colonel------. I asked Captain Seymour how
often the engine would strike in a minute; he told
me, thirty-six times. By the by, we had a race
coming down the Raritan, with the Union steam-
boat. The Water Witch beat her hollow; but
she came so near as to make our water rough,
and so impede our progress, that I thought we
should have had a concussion ; there is something
very exciting in emulation, certainly. The sun
went down in a watery, gloomy sky, though the
day had been so fine; and when we got sight of
the Narrows, sky? and sea, and land, were all of a
dark leaden hue. Our second landing at New
York was rather melancholy: shall I ever forget
the first? Came up to our comfortless quarters at
the American; dressed, and dined, and began
M 2244
JOURNAL.
finishing my letter to dear --------, when they
brought me	in	another	from her, by the packet
that has just	come in.	*	#	*
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Tuesday, 6th.
It poured with rain. Lucky we did not follow
-----’s advice, else we should have been miser-
ably progressing through rain and wretchedness,
or perhaps sticking fast in the mud. Went
and took a warm bath; came home, break-
fasted; after breakfast, practised for an hour;
finished letter to----; wrote to my mother; dined
at five. After dinner, Colonel------- called, and
very nearly caused a blow up between me and my
father: he came preaching to me the necessity of
restoring those lines of Bianca’s, in the judgment
scene, which were originally omitted, afterwards
restored by me at Milman’s request, and again
cut out, on finding that they only lengthened the
scene, without producing the slightest effect. My
father appeared perfectly to agree with me, but
added, that I might as well oblige the people. I
straightforth said I would do no such thing.JOURNAL*
245
People sitting before the curtain must not come
and tell me what I am to do behind it. Not one
out of a hundred, in the first place, understand
what they are talking about; and why, therefore,
am I to alter my work at their suggestion, when
each particular scene has cost me more consider-
ation than they ever bestowed upon any whole play
in all their lives. Besides, it would be with me and
my parts, as with the old man, his son, and his
ass, in the fable of old; I should never have done
altering, and yet never satisfy any body, for the
most universal talent I know of, is that of finding
fault. So, all things well considered, the New
Yorkians must e’en be contented with the judg-
ment of Miss O’Neill, my father, and their obe-
dient, humble servant. Worked till tea-time;
after tea, wrote letters till now, bed-time.
Wednesday, 7th.
Our breakfast was so bad, none of us could eat
any thing. After breakfast, despatched letters to
Mr.------, for England. Practised for an hour,
— sketched for an hour.	*	*
* * * * . *
# # # # #
M 3246
JOURNAL.
At half-past one, went out with my father to
walk on the Battery, while Colonel — and
D------went to------, to see if we could get decent
lodgings, and wholesome eatables there. The day
was melancholy, grey, cold; with a full, fresh wind,
whirling the rattling leaves along, and rippling the
leaden waters of the wide estuary that opens before
this beautiful parade. The Jersey shore and
Staten Island, with their withered woods all clothed
in their dark, warm, autumnal hues, at a distance
reminded me of the heathery hills of Scotland;
they had that dark purple richness of colouring.
#	#	*	#	#
*	#	#	#	#
D— and Colonel ------------joined us, and we
walked up Broadway together: my father left me
to go with them, and look at our proposed dwelling.
It is all in vain struggling with one’s fate ;’t is clear
they haven’t the most distant idea of the comforts
of life in these parts. Darkness, dinginess, and
narrowness, were the attributes of the apartments
into which we were shown; then, as the Colonel
had never eaten in the house, he did not know
what our food might be—pleasant this! Resolved,
that we were better off where we are, and so re-
turned to the American. Sketched and practised
for some time longer. Mr.-------called to go withJOURNAL.
247
my father to Mrs. ---’s, where they were to dine.
He certainly is one of the handsomest men I ever
saw; but he looks half dead, and is working him-
self to death, it should seem. *	#
#	#	#	*	#
*	#	#	*	#
He told me that Boston was the most charming
town in America.	*	*	*
#	#	#	#	#
Put away things, while D----unpacked them.
Dressed for dinner. Dined at five; afterwards
proceeded in the unpacking and stowing away.
#	#	*	#	#
I was interrupted by the announcement of an
incomprehensible cognomen, which solved itself in
the shape of Mr.----->, who walked in, sat down,
and began talking a deal of nonsense. I worked,
that I might not go to sleep. He was most ex-
ceedingly odd and dauldrummish. I think he
was a little “ how corn’d you so indeed.” He sat
very near me, spoke exceedingly drowsily, and
talked an amazing quantity of thickish philosophy,
and moral and sentimental potter. I bore it as
wTell as I could, till ten o’clock, when I asked him
how long it was 66 reckoned” discreet, in this
country, to prolong evening visits; whereupon he
arose and took his departure.	*	#
m 4248
JOURNAL.
#	#	#	#	*
#	#	*	#	*
Worked at the ornaments of my Bianca dress,
finished one, and wrote journal.
Thursday, 8th,
* * * # #
After breakfast, worked at my dress till late;
Mr.-------called. Put away goods and chattels;
put out things for the theatre. A brother of Mr.
— ■■ called upon us, and sat some time : when he
was gone, came back to my room to finish the
ornaments for my dress. This day has been spent
in the thorough surroundings of my vocation; foil
stone, glass beads, and brass tape !	— came
just before dinner; and at the end of it, Colonel
—— called. He read us a paragraph in one of
the Philadelphia papers, upon me, and all my
good parts; there was actually a column of them.
It was well written, for I was absolute perfection;
excepting, indeed, in one respect, the hauteur and
disdain with which I had treated the w rank and
fashion of Philadelphia.” Now this was not true,
for, to speak candidly, I did not know that there
were such things as rank and fashion in all
America. However, the article made me laughJOURNAL.
219
extremely, for, as I could not help observing,
“ there are real lords and ladies in my country.” f
# # # # #
*|* I think the pretension to pre-eminence, in the various
societies of North Americans founded on these grounds. In
Boston, a greater degree of mental cultivation; in New York,
the possession of wealth; and a lady, of whom I enquired
the other day what constituted the superiority of the am-
tocracy in Philadelphia, replied, — “ Why, birth, to be sure.”
Virginia and Carolina, indeed, long prided themselves upon
their old family names, which were once backed by large
possessions; and for many years the southern gentlemen
might not improperly be termed the aristocracy of America ;
but the estates of those who embraced the king’s cause dur-
ing the rebellion were confiscated; and the annulling the
laws of entail and primogeniture, and the parcelling out of
property under the republican form of government, have
gradually destroyed the fortunes of most of the old southern
families. Still, they hold fast to the spirit of their former
superiority, and from this circumstance, and the possession
of slaves, which exempts them from the drudgery of earning
their livelihood, they are a much less mercantile race of men
than those of the northern states; generally better informed,
and infinitely more polished in their manners. The few
southerners with whom I have become acquainted resemble
Europeans both in their accomplishments, and the quiet and
reserve of their manners. On my remarking, one day, to a
Philadelphia gentleman, whose general cultivation keeps
pace with his political and financial talents, how singular the
contrast was between the levelling spirit of this government,
and the separating and dividing spirit of American society,
he replied, that if his many vocations allowed him time, he
should like to write a novel illustrating the curious struggle
which exists throughout this country between its political
M 5250
JOURNAL.
Came to my own room, — refurbished my green
velvet bonnet. ’T is a worthy old thing that, and
looks amazingly well. The cold weather is setting
in very bitterly to-day ; we were obliged to have a
fire. Heard my father his part: whilst saying it,
he received a subpoena on some business between
Mr.------- and Mr.-------. At a quarter to six,
went to the theatre. Play, Fazio; house very fine;
dress like a bonfire. I played well, but then my
father was the Fazio. The people cried abun-
dantly. Mrs.--------was shocked at having to play
that naughty woman Aldabella (I wish they would
let me try that part); and when the Duke dismissed
her in the last scene, picked up her train, and
flounced off in a way that made the audience for
to laugh. Coming home, Mr. — overtook us.
My father asked him in, but he excused himself;
before, however, we were well seated, he had re-
pented the refusal, and came rushing back.
Colonel ------ came in, and they both of them
supped with us, discussing many matters of pith.
and its social institutions. The anomaly is, indeed, striking.
Democracy governs the land; whilst, throughout society, a
contrary tendency shows itself, wherever it can obtain the
very smallest opportunity. It is unfortunate for America,
that its aristocracy must, of necessity, be always one of
wealth.JOURNAL.
251
Received a nosegay, as big as myself, of dahlias
and other autumnal flowers. #	#
# # # # #
The moon is resplendent! the earth is flooded
with her cold light — beautiful! By the by, last
night, at three o’clock this morning, I was
awakened by music. It was a military band play-
ing Yankee Doodle, the national anthem of the
Americans, accompanied by the tramp of a con-
siderable body of men. They took the direction
of the Park, and there halted, when I heard a
single voice haranguing for a length of time, with
occasional interruptions of vehement huzzas, and
rolling of drums. And anon, the march struck
up again, grew faint, and died into the stillness of
night.	#	*	#	#
# #	*	#	#-
I was much bounden to the Jacksonites, who are
carrying it by fair means or foul. One man, I
was assured, voted nine times over ! He was an
Irishman, and it is to be presumed, a tailor.
Saturday, 10 th.
Skipped yesterday: so much the better, for
though it began, like May, with flowers and sun-252
JOURNAL.
shine, it ended, like December, with the sulks,
and a fit of crying. The former were furnished
me by my friends and Heaven, the latter, by my-
self and the devil.	*	*	*
#	#	*	#	#
#	#	*	#	#
At six o’clock, D-----roused me; and grumpily
enough I arose. I dressed myself by candlelight in
a hurry. Really, by way of a party of pleasure,
’t is too abominable to get up in the middle of the
night this fashion. At half-past six, Colonel
-----came; and as soon as I could persuade my-
self into my clothes, we set off to walk to the
quay. Just as we were nearing the bottom of Bar-
clay Street, the bell rang from the steam-boat, to
summon all loiterers on board; and forthwith we
rushed, because in this country steam and paddles,
like wind and tide in others, wait for no man.
We got on board in plenty time, but D--------was
nearly killed with the pace at which we had
walked, in order to do so. One of the first per-
sons we saw was Mr. —, who was going up to
his father’s place beyond West Point, by name
Hyde Park, which sounds mighty magnificent.
I did not remain long on the second deck, but
ascended to the first with Colonel --------, and
paced to and fro with infinite zeal till breakfast-JOURNAL.
253
time. The morning was grey and sad looking,
and I feared we should not have a fine day:
however, towards eight o’clock the grey clouds
parted, and the blue, serene eyes of heaven
looked down upon the waters; the waves began
to sparkle, though the sun had not yet appeared;
the sky was lighter, and faint shadows began to
appear beside the various objects that surrounded
us, all which symptoms raised our hopes of the
weather. At eight o’clock, we went down to
breakfast. Nobody who has not seen it, can con-
ceive the strange aspect of the long room of one
of these fine boats at meal-time. The crowd, the
hurry, the confusion of tongues, like the sound
of many waters, the enormous consumption of
eatables, the mingled demands for more, the
cloud of black waiters hovering down the sides
of the immense tables, the hungry, eager faces
seated at them, form altogether a most amusing
subject of contemplation, and a caricaturist would
find ample matter for his vein in almost every
other devouring countenance. As far as regards
the speed, safety, and convenience with which
these vessels enable one^lo perform what would
be in any other conveyance most fatiguing jour-
neys, they are admirable inventions. The way
in which they are conducted, too, deserves the254
JOURNAL.
highest commendation. Nothing can exceed the
comfort with which they are fitted up, the skill
with which they are managed, and the order and
alacrity with which passengers are taken up from, or
landed at, the various points along the river. The
steamer goes at the rate of fifteen miles an hour ;
and in less than two minutes, when approaching
any place of landing, the engine stops, the boat is
lowered — the captain always convoys his pas-
sengers himself from the steamer to the shore —
away darts the tiny skiff, held by a rope to the main
boat; as soon as it grazes the land, its freight,
animate and inanimate, is bundled out, the boat
hauls itself back in an instant, and immediately
the machine is in motion, and the vessel again
bounding over the water like a race-horse. *
Doubtless all this has many and great advan-
tages; but to an English person, the mere cir-
* Of course the captain is undisputed master of the boat,
and any disorders, quarrels, &c., which may arise, are settled
by his authority. Any passenger, guilty of misbehaviour, is
either confined or sent immediately on shore, no matter how
far from his intended destination. I once saw very summary
justice performed on a troublesome fellow who was disturb-
ing the whole society on board one of the North River
steamers. He was put into the small boat with the captain
and a stout looking sailor, and very comfortably deposited on
some rafts which were floating along shore, about twenty
miles below West Point, whither he was bound.JOURNAL.
255
cumstance of being the whole day in a crowd is
a nuisance. As to privacy at any time, or under
any circumstances, ’tis a thing that enters not
into the imagination of an American. They do
not seem to comprehend that to be from sunrise
to sunset one of a hundred and fifty people con-
fined in a steam-boat is in itself a great misery,
or that to be left by one’s self and to one’s self can
ever be desirable. They live all the days of their
lives in a throng, eat at ordinaries of two or three
hundred, sleep five or six in a room, take plea-
sure in droves, and travel by swarms, f	#
# # # # #
In spite, therefore, of all its advantages, this
mode of journeying has its drawbacks. And the
greatest of all, to me, is the being companioned by
so many strangers, who crowd about you, pursue
their conversation in your very ears, or, if they
like it better, listen to yours, stare you out of all
countenance, and squeeze you out of all comfort.
It is perfectly intolerable to me ; but then I have
f The quantity of one’s companions in these conveyances
is not more objectionable than their quality sometimes. As
they are the only vehicles, and the fares charged are ex-
tremely low, it follows, necessarily, that all classes and sorts
of people congregate in them, from the ragged Irish emigrant
and the boorish back-countryman, to the gentleman of the
senate, the supreme court, and the president himself.236
JOURNAL.
more than even the national English abhorrence
of coming in contact with strangers. There is no
moment of my life when I would not rather be
alone, than in company; and feeling, as I often
do, the society of even those I love a burden, the
being eternally surrounded by indifferent persons
is a positive suffering that interferes with every
enjoyment, and makes pleasure three parts endur-
ance. I think this constant living in public is one
reason why the young women here are much less
retiring and shy than English girls. Instead of
the domestic privacy in which women among us
are accustomed to live, and move, and have their
being, here they are incessantly, as Mr.--------says,
“ en evidence” Accustomed to the society of
strangers, mixing familiarly with persons of whom
they know nothing earthly, subject to the gaze of
a crowd from morning till night, pushing, and
pressing, and struggling in self-defence, conversing,
and being conversed with, by the chance com-
panions of a boarding-house, a steam-boat, or the
hotel of a fashionable watering-place, they must
necessarily lose every thing like reserve or bash-
fulness of deportment, and become free and
familiar in their manners, and noisy and unrefined
in their tone and style of conversation.* An
* The manners of the young girls of America appear
singularly free to foreigners; and until they become betterJOURNAL.
257
English girl of sixteen, put on board one of these
Noah’s arks (for verily there be clean and unclean
acquainted with the causes which produce so unrestrained a
deportment, they are liable to take disadvantageous and mis-
taken impressions with regard to them. The term which I
should say applied best to the tone and carriage of American
girls from ten to eighteen, is hoydenish; laughing, giggling,
romping, flirting, screaming at the top of their voices, running
in and out of shops, and spending a very considerable portion
of their time in lounging about in the streets. In Philadel-
phia and Boston, almost all the young ladies attend classes
or day schools; and in the latter place I never went out,
morning, noon, or evening, that I did not meet, in some of
the streets round the Tremont House, a whole bevy of young
school girls, who were my very particular friends, but who,
under pretext of going to, or returning from, school, appeared
to me to be always laughing, and talking, and running about
in the public thoroughfares; a system of education which we
should think by no means desirable. The entire liberty which
the majority of young ladies are allowed to assume, at an age
when in England they would be under strict nursery disci-
pline, appears very extraordinary; they not only walk alone
in the streets, but go out into society, where they take a
determined and leading part, without either mother, aunt, or
chaperon of any sort; custom, which renders such an ap-
pendage necessary with us, entirely dispenses with it here;
and though the reason of this is obvious enough in the nar-
row circles of these small towns, where every body knows
every body, the manners of the young ladies do not derive
any additional charm from the perfect self-possession which
they thus acquire. Shiness appears to me to be a quality
utterly unknown to either man, woman, or child in America.
The girls, from the reasons above stated; and the boys, from258
JOURNAL.
beasts in them), would feel and look like a scared
thing. To return to our progress. After losing
being absolutely thrown into the world, and made men of
business before they are sixteen, are alike deficient in any
thing like diffidence; and I really have been all but discon-
certed at the perfect assurance with which I have been
addressed, upon any and every subject, by little men and
women just half way through their teens. That very common
character amongst us, a shy man, is not to be met with in
these latitudes. An American conversing on board one of
their steam-boats is immediately surrounded, particularly if
his conversation, though strictly directed to one individual,
is of a political nature; in an instant a ring of spectators is
formed round him, and whereas an Englishman would be-
come silent at the very first appearance of a listener, an
American, far from seeming abashed at this “ audience,” con-
tinues his discourse, which thus assumes the nature of an
harangue, with perfect equanimity, and feels no annoyance
whatever at having unfolded his private opinions of men and
matters to a circle of forty or fifty people whom they could
in no possible way concern. Speechifying is a very favourite
species of exhibition with the men here, by the by; and, be-
sides being self-possessed, they are all remarkably fluent.
Really eloquent men are just as rare in this country as in any
other, but the “ gift of the gab ” appears to me more widely
disseminated amongst Americans than any other people in the
world. Many things go to make good speakers of them:
great acuteness, and sound common sense, sufficient general
knowledge, and great knowledge of the world, an intense
interest in every political measure, no matter how trivial in
itself, no sense of bashfulness, and a great readiness of ex-
pression. But to return to the manners of the young Ame-
rican girls It is Rousseau, I think, who says, “ Dans unJOURNAL.
259
sight of New York, the river becomes narrower in
its bed, and the banks on either side assume a
higher and more rocky appearance. A fine range
of basaltic rock, called the Palisadoes, rising to a
height of some hundred feet (I guess), immediately
from the water on the left, forms a natural rampart,
overhanging the river for several miles. The
colour of the basalt was greenish grey, and con-
pays ou les moeurs sont pures, les filles seront faciles, et Ies
femmes severes.” This applies particularly well to the car-
riage of the American women. When remarking to a gentle-
man once the difference between the manners of my own
young countrywomen and his, I expressed my disapprobation
of the education which led to such a result, he replied," You
forget the comparatively pure state of morals in our country,
which admits of this degree of freedom in our young women,
without its rendering them liable to insult or misconstruction.”
This is true, and it is also most true, for I have seen repeated
instances of it, that those very girls, whose manners have
been most displeasing to my European ways of feeling, whom
I should have pointed out as romps and flirts pre-eminent,
not only make excellent wives, but from the very moment of
their marriage seem to forsake society, and devote them-
selves exclusively to household duties and retirement. But
that I have seen and known of repeated instances of this, I
could scarcely have believed it, but it is the case; and a
young American lady, speaking upon this subject, said to me,
“We enjoy ourselves before marriage; but in your country,
girls marry to obtain a greater degree of freedom, and indulge
in the pleasures and dissipations of society.” She was not,
I think, greatly mistaken.	*260
JOURNAL.
trasted finely with the opposite shore, whose softer
undulations were yet clothed with verdure, and
adorned with patches of woodland, robed in the
glorious colours of an American autumn. While
despatching breakfast, the reflection of the sun’s
rays on the water flickered to and fro upon the
cabin ceiling; and through the loop-hole windows
we saw the bright foam round the paddles sparkling
like frothed gold in the morning light. On our
return to the deck, the face of the world had
become resplendent with the glorious sunshine that
now poured from the east; and rock and river,
earth and sky, shone in intense and dazzling
brilliancy. The broad Hudson curled into a
thousand crisp billows under the fresh north-wester
that blew over it. The vaporous exhalations of
night had melted from the horizon, and the bold,
rocky range of one shore, and exquisite rolling
outline of the other, stood out in fair relief against
the deep serene of the blue heavens.	#
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
I remained on deck without my bonnet, walking
to and fro, and enjoying the delicious wind that
was as bracing as a shower-bath. Mr.-------most
civilly offered me, when I returned to New York,
the use of a horse, and himself as escort to a beau-JOURNAL.
261
tiful ride beyond Hoboken, which proffer was very
gratefully received by me. Colonel —----------- intro-
duced me to an old man of the name of----------.
#	#	*	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
A jester, and a long story-teller; — a man whom
it would be awful to meet when you were too late
for dinner, still more awful on your progress to a
rendezvous; — a man to whom a listener is a God-
send, and a button an anchor of discoursing for
half a day. He made me laugh once or twice
heartily. As we passed the various points of the
river, to which any interest, legendary or historical,
attached, each of my three companions drew my
attention to it; and I had, pretty generally, three
variations of the same anecdote at each point of
observation. On we boiled past Spitendevil creek*,
where the waters of the broad Hudson join those
of the East River, and circle with their silver arms
the island of Manhattan. Past the last stupendous
reach of the Palisadoes, which, stretching out into
an endless promontory, seems to grow with the
mariner’s onward progress, and bears witness to
the justice with which Hudson, on his exploring
voyage up the river, christened it, the <c weary
* For the origin of this curious name, see that interesting
and veracious work, the history of Knickerbocker.262
JOURNAL.
point.” Past the thick masses of wood that mark
the shadowy site of Sleepy Hollow.* Past the
marble prison of Sing Sing; and Tarry town, where
poor Andre was taken; and on the opposite shore,
saw the glimmering white buildings, among which
his tomb reposes. — By the by,‘ for a bit of the
marvellous, which I dearly love. I am credibly
informed, that on the day the traitor Arnold died,
in England, a thunderbolt struck the tree that grew
above Andres tomb here, on the shores of the
Hudson — nice, that! Crossed the broad, glorious,
Tappan Sea, where the shores receding, form a
huge basin, where the brimming waters roll in an
expanse of lake-like width, yet hold their rapid
current to the ocean, themselves a running sea.
The giant shadows of the mountains on the left,
falling on the deep basin at their feet, the trium-
phant sunlight that made the restless mirror that
reflected it too bright for the eye to rest upon, the
sunny shores to the right, rising and falling in every
exquisite form that hill and dale can wear, the
jutting masses of granite, glittering like the diamond
rocks of fairy-land, in the sun, the golden waves
flinging themselves up every tiny crevice, the glow-
ing crimson foliage of the distant woods, the fresh
* Famous as the scene of Ichabod Crane’s exploits.JOURNAL.
263
vivid green of the cedars, that rifted their strong
roots in every stony cleft, and threw a semblance
of summer over these November days — all, all
was beautiful, and full of brightness. We passed
the lighthouse of Stony Point, now the peaceful
occupant of the territory, where the blood in En-
glish veins was poured out by English hands, during
the struggle between old established tyranny and
the infant liberties of this giant world. Over all
and each, the blessed sky bent its blue arch, re-
splendently clear and bright, while far away the
distant summits of the Highlands rose one above
another, shutting in the world, and almost appear-
ing as though each bend of the river must find us
locked in their shadowy circle, without means of
onward progress.	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	*
At every moment, the scene varied; at every mo-
ment, new beauty and grandeur was revealed to us;
at every moment, the delicious lights and shadows
fell with richer depth and brightness upon higher
openings into the mountains, and fairer bends of
the glorious river. At about a quarter to eleven,
the buildings of West Point were seen, perched
upon the rock side, overhanging the water; above,
the woody rise, upon whose summit stands the large264
JOURNAL.
hotel, the favourite resort of visiters during the
summer season ; rising again above this, the ruins
of Fort Putnam, poor Andre’s prison-house, over-
looking the Hudson and its shores; and towering
high beyond them all, the giant hills, upon whose
brown shoulders the trees looked like bristles
standing up against the sky. We left the boat,
or rather she left us, and presently we saw her
holding her course far up the bright water, and
between the hills; where, framed by the dark
mountains with the sapphire stream below and the
sapphire sky above, lay the bright little town of
Newburgh, with its white buildings glittering in
the sunshine.	*	*	*	#
#	#	#	#	*
#	*	#	*	*
We toiled up the ascent, which, though by com-
parison with its overpeering fellows inconsiderable,
was a sufficiently fatiguing undertaking under the
unclouded weather and over the unshaded downs
that form the parade ground for the cadets. West
Point is a military establishment containing some
two hundred and fifty pupils; who are here edu-
cated for the army under the superintendence of
experienced officers.* The buildings, in which
* If the results answer to the means employed, the pupils
of West Point ought to turn out accomplished scholars inJOURNAL.
265
they reside and pursue their various studies, stand
upon a grassy knoll holding the top of the rocky
every branch of human learning, as well as ripe soldiers and
skilful engineers. Their course of education consists of
almost every study within the range of man’s capacity; and
as the school discipline is unusually strict, their hours of
labour many, and of recreation very few, they should be able
to boast of many “ wise men ” among their number. How-
ever it is here, I imagine, as elsewhere; where studies are
pursued laboriously for a length of time, variety becomes a
necessary relief to the mental powers, and so far the multi-
plicity of objects of acquirement may be excused; but surely,
to combine in the education of one youth the elements of
half a dozen sciences, each one of which would wear out a
man’s life in the full understanding of it, is not the best
system of instruction. However, ’t is the one now univer-
sally adopted, and tends to give more smatterers in science
than scientific men to the world. The military part of
their education is, however, what the pupils of West Point
are most exercised in, and so far as one so ignorant of such
matters as myself can judge, I should imagine the system
adopted calculated to make expert artillerymen and engineers
of them. Their deportment, and the way they went through
their evolutions on the parade, did not appear to me very
steady — there was a want of correctness of carriage, gene-
rally, and of absolute precision cf movement, which one ac-
customed to the manoeuvring of regular troops detects
immediately. There are several large pieces of ordnance
kept in the gun-room, some of which were taken from the
English; and I remarked a pretty little brass cannon, which
almost looked like a plaything, which bore the broad arrow
and the name of Saratoga.
VOL. I.	N266
JOURNAL.
bank of the river, and commanding a most en-
chanting view of its course. They are not parti-
cularly extensive; but commodious and well-or-
dered. I am told they have a good library; but
on reaching the dwelling of Mr. Cozzens, (pro-
prietor of the hotel, which being at this season
shut, he received us most hospitably and courte-
ously in his own house,) I felt so weary, that I
thought it impossible I should stir again for the
whole day, and declined seeing it. I had walked
on the deck at an amazing pace, and without once
sitting down from eight o’clock till eleven ; and I
think must nearly have killed Colonel---, who
was my companion during this march. However,
upon finding that it wanted full an hour till dinner-
time, it was agreed that we should go up to the
fort, and we set off under the guidance of one of
Mr. Cozzens’ servants, who had orders not to go
too fast with us. Before turning into the woods
that cover the foot of the mountain, we followed
a bit of road that overhung the river; and stealing
over its sleepy-looking waters, where shone like
stars the white sails of many a tiny skiff, came the
delicious notes of a bugle-horn. The height at
which we stood above the water prevented the ear
being satisfied with the complete subject of the
musician, but the sweet, broken tones that cameJOURNAL.
267
rising from the far down thickets that skirted the
river, had more harmony than a distinct and perfect
strain. I stood entranced to listen — the whole
was like a dream of fairy-land : but presently our
guide struck into the woods, and the world became
screened from our sight. I had thought that I
was tired, and could not stir, even to follow the
leisurely footsteps of our cicerone; but tangled
brake and woodland path, and rocky height, soon
roused my curiosity, and my legs following there-
with, I presently outstripped our party, guide and
all, and began pursuing my upward path ; through
close growing trees and shrubs, over pale, shining
ledges of granite, over which the trickling mountain
springs had taken their silvery course; through
swampy grounds, where the fallen leaves lay like
gems under the still pools that here and there
shone dimly in little hollow glens; over the soft
starry moss that told where the moist earth retained
the freshening waters, over sharp, hard splinters
of rock, and rough masses of stone. Alone, alone,
I was alone and happy, and went on my way re-
joicing, climbing and climbing still, till the green
mound of thick turf, and ruined rampart of the
fort arrested my progress. I coasted the broken
wall; and lighting down on a broad, smooth table
of granite fringed with young cedar bushes, I look-
N 2268
JOURNAL,
ed down, and for a moment my breath seemed to
stop, the pulsation of my heart to cease — I was
filled with awe. The beauty and wild sublimity
of what I beheld seemed almost to crush my fa-
culties, — I felt dizzy as though my senses were
drowning, — I felt as though I had been carried
into the immediate presence of God. Though I
were to live a thousand years, I never can forget
it. The first thing that I distinctly saw was the
shadow of a large cloud, which rolled slowly down
the side of a huge mountain, frowning over the
height where I stood. The shadow moved down
its steep sunny side, threw a deep blackness over
the sparkling river, and then passed off and climbed
the opposite mountain on the other shore, leaving
the world in the full blaze of noon. I could have
stretched out my arms, and shouted aloud — I
could have fallen on my knees, and worshipped —
I could have committed any extravagance that ec-
stasy could suggest. I stood filled with amaze-
ment and delight, till the footsteps and voices of
my companions roused me. I darted away, un-
willing to be interrupted. Colonel-----was fol-
lowing me, but I peremptorily forbade his doing
so, and was clambering on alone, when the voice
of our guide assuring me that the path I was pur-
suing was impassable, arrested my course. MyJOURNAL.
269
father beckoned to me from above not to pursue
my track; so I climbed through a break, which
the rocky wails of nature and the broken fortifica-
tions of art rendered tolerably difficult of access,
and running round the wall joined my father on
his high stand, where he was holding out his arms
to me. For two or three minutes we mingled ex-
clamations of delight and surprise: he then led
me to the brink of the rampart; and looking down
the opposite angle of the wall to that which I was
previously coasting, I beheld the path I was then
following break suddenly off, on the edge of a pre-
cipice several hundred feet down into the valley:
it made me gulp to look at it. Presently I left
my father, and after going the complete round of
the ruins, found out for myself a grassy knoll com-
manding a full view of the scene, sufficiently far
from my party not to hear their voices, and screened
from seeing them by some beautiful young cedar
bushes; and here I lay down and cried most
abundantly, by which means I recovered my senses,
which else, I think, must have forsake.n me. How
full of thoughts I was ! Of God’s great might, and
gracious goodness, of the beauty of this earth, of
the apparent nothingness of man when compared
with this huge inanimate creation, of his wondrous
value, for whose delight and use all these fair things
n 3270
JOURNAL.
were created. I thought of my distant home; that
handful of earth thrown upon the wide waters,
whose genius has led the kingdoms of the world
— whose children have become the possessors of
this new hemisphere. I rejoiced to think that
when England shall be, as all things must be, fallen
into the devouring past, her language will still be
spoken among these glorious hills, her name re-
vered, her memory cherished, her fame preserved
here, in this far world beyond the seas, this country
of her children’s adoption. Poor old mother!
how she would remain amazed to see the huge
earth and waters where her voice is heard, in the
name of every spot where her descendants have
rested the soles of their feet: this giant inherit-
ance of her sons, poor, poor, old England !	#
# # # * #
Where are the poets of this land? Why such a
world should bring forth men with minds and
souls larger and stronger than any that ever dwelt
in mortal flesh. Where are the poets of this land?
They should be giants, too; Homers and Miltons,
and Goethes and Dantes, and Shakspeares. Have
these glorious scenes poured no inspirings into
hearts worthy to behold and praise their beauty ?
Is there none to come here and worship among
these hills and waters till his heart burns withinJOURNAL.
271
him, and the hymn of inspiration flows from his
lips, and rises to the sky? Is there not one among
the sons of such a soil to send forth its praises to
the universe, to throw new glory round the moun-
tains, new beauty over the waves ? Is inanimate
nature, alone, here “ telling the glories of God ? ”
Oh, surely, surely, there will come a time when
this lovely land will be vocal with the sound of
song, when every close-locked valley and waving
wood, rifted rock and flowing stream, shall have
their praise. Yet’t is strange how marvellously
unpoetical these people are! How swallowed up
in life and its daily realities, wants, and cares!
How full of toil and thrift, and money-getting
labour ! Even the heathen Dutch, among us the
very antipodes of all poetry, have found names
such as the Donder Berg for the hills, whilst the
Americans christen them Butter Hill, the Crows
Nest, and suck like. Perhaps some hundred years
hence, when wealth has been amassed by indivi-
duals, and the face of society begins to grow
checkered, as in the old lands of Europe, when
the whole mass of population shall no longer go
running along the level road of toil and profit,
when inequalities of rank shall exist, and the rich
man shall be able to pay for the luxury of poetry,
and the poor man who makes verses no longer
N 4*272
JOURNAL.
be asked, “ Why don’t you cast up accounts ? ”
when all this comes to pass, as perhaps some day
it may, America will have poets. It seems strange
to me that men, such as the early settlers in Mas-
sachussets, the Puritan founders of New England,
the “ Pilgrim Fathers,” should not have had
amongst them some men, or at least man, in whose
mind the stern and enduring courage, the fervent,
enthusiastic piety, the unbending love of liberty,
which animated them all, become the inspiration
to poetic thought, and the suggestion of poetical
utterance. They should have had a Milton or a
Klopstock amongst them. Yet, after all, they had
excitement of another sort, and, moreover, the
difficulties and dangers, and distresses of a fate of
unparalleled hardship, to engross all the energies
of their minds; and I am half inclined to believe
that poetry is but a hothouse growth, and yet I
don’t know : I wish somebody would explain to me
every thing in this world that I can’t make out.*
* It might be a curious and interesting matter of research
to determine under what combination of external circum-
stances the spirit of poetry flourishes most vigorously, and
good poets have most abounded. The extremes of poverty
and luxury seem alike inimical to its well-being; yet the lat-
ter far more so than the former, for most poets have been
poor; some so poor, as to enrich the world, while they
themselves received so little return from its favour as miser-JOURNAL.
273
We came down from the mountain at about half-
past one: our party had been joined by Colonel
ably to perish of want. Again, the level tenor of4 a life alike
removed from want and superfluity should seem too devoid
of interest or excitement to make a good poet. Long-lived
competency is more favourable to the even temper of philo-
sophy than the fiery nature of one who must know the
storms of passion, and all the fiercer elements of which the
acting and suffering soul of man is made. Again, it would
be curious to know, if it might be ascertained, whether those
men whose inspirations have been aided alone by the com-
templation of the inanimate beauties of nature, and the phe-
nomena of their own minds and the minds and lives of their
fellows, have been as great poets as those, who, besides
these sources of inspiration, fed the power within them with
the knowledge of great writers and poets of other countries
and times. Another question, which it would be interesting
to determine, would be, under what species of government
poets have been most numerous, and most honoured. As
our modern exploders of old fallacies have not yet made up
their minds whether such a person as Homer ever lived, it
is rather a vain labour of imagination to determine whether
this great king of all poets flourished under a monarchy, or
in a republic; certain it is, he sang of kings and princes in
right lordly style: be that as it may, we have rather better
authority for believing that the Greek dramatists, those mas-
ters, and sometime models, of their peculiar branch of the
art, flourished under republican governments; but with
them, I think, ends the list of republican poets of great and
universal fame. Rome had no poets till she had emperors.
Italy was, it is true, divided into so called republics during
the golden age of her literature; but they were so in name
alone, the spirit of equality had long departed from the soil,
N 5274
JOURNAL.
-----, Governor of the College, who very courte-
ously came toiling up to Fort Putnam, to pay his
compliments to us. I lingered far behind them,
returning; and, when they were out of sight,
turned back, and once more ascended the ruin, to
look my last of admiration and delight, and then
down, down, every step bringing me out of the
clouds, farther from heaven, and nearer this work
i’ day world. I loitered, and loitered, looking back
and they were merely prouder and more arbitrary aristocra-
cies than have ever existed under any monarchy in the
world. If ever France can be said to have had a poetical
age, it was during the magnificent reign of Lewis the Four-
teenth, that pageant that prepared the bloodiest tragedy in
the pages of history. England offers the only exception
that I have advanced, namely, that the republican form of
government is inimical to poetry. For it was during the
short and shameful period of fanatical republicanism, which
blots her annals, that the glory and the might of Milton
rose upon the world; he is the only great poet who ever
flourished under a republic; and he was rather the poet of
heaven and hell, than of earth: his subjects are either bibli-
cal or mythological; and however his stern and just spirit
might advocate the cause of equality and universal freedom
in the more arid regions of political and theological contro-
versies, in his noblest and greatest capacity, he has sung of
angels and archangels, the starry hierarchy of heaven, where
some of the blessed wore a brighter glory than their fellows,
where some were inferior to other celestial powers, and
where God was King supreme, over all. In heaven, Milton
dreamt of no republics, nor in hell either.JOURNAL*
27 5
at every step; but at last the hills were shut out
by a bend in the road, and I came into the house
to throw myself down on the floor, and sleep most
seriously for half an hour; at the end of which
time, we were called to dinner. In England, if
an innkeeper gives you a good dinner, and places
the first dish on the table himself, you pay him,
and he’s obliged to you. Here, an innkeeper is a
gentleman, your equal, sits at his table with you,
you pay him, and are obliged to him besides.
*T is necessary therefore for a stranger, but espe-
cially an Englishman, to understand the fashions
of the land, else he may chance to mistake that
for an impertinent familiarity, which is in fact the
received custom of the country. Mr. Cozzens
very considerately gave us our dinner in a private
room, instead of seating us at an ordinary with
all the West Point Officers. Moreover, gave in
the literal sense, and a very good dinner it was.
He is himself a very intelligent, courteous person,
and, during the very short time that we were his
guests, showed us every possible attention and
civility. We had scarce finished our dinner, when
in rushed a waiter to tell us that the boat was in
sight. Away we trotted, trailing cloaks, and
shawls, any-how fashion, down the hill. The
steamer came puffing up the gorge between the
n 6276
JOURNAL.
mountains, and in a moment we were bundled into
the boat, hauled alongside, and landed on the
deck; and presently the glorious highlands, all
glowing in the rosy sunset, began to recede from
us. Just as we were putting off from shore, a tiny
skiff, with its graceful white sail glittering in the
sun, turned the base of the opposite hill, evidently
making to the point whence we embarked. I have
since learned that it contained a messenger to us,
from a gentleman bearing our name, and distantly
connected with us, proprietor of some large iron
works on the shore opposite West Point. How-
ever, our kinsman was too late, and we were al-
ready losing sight of West Point, when his boat
reached the shore. Our progress homeward was,
if any thing, more enchanting than our coming
out had been, except for leaving all this loveliness.
The sun went down in splendour, leaving the
world robed in glorious beauty. The sky was one
glowing geranium curtain, into which the dark
hills rose like shadow-land, stretching beyond,
and still beyond, till they grew like hazy outlines
through a dazzling mist of gold. The glory faded;
and a soft violet colour spread downwards to the
horizon, where a faint range of clouds lay floating
like scattered rose leaves. As the day fell, the
volumes of smoke from our steam-boat chimneysJOURNAL.
277
became streams of fiery sparks, which glittered
over the water with a strange unearthly effect. I
sat on deck watching the world grow dark, till my
father, afraid of the night air, bade me go down;
and there, in spite of the chattering of a score of
women, and the squalling of half as many chil-
dren, I slept profoundly till we reached New York,
at a quarter to seven.
Saturday, \1th.
After breakfast, wrote journal: while doing so,
Mr. ----- called to knowT if I held my mind in
spite of the grey look of the morning. A wan
sunbeam just then lighted on the earth, and I
said I would go; for I thought by about twelve
it probably would clear.	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
They called for me in the carriage at eleven; and
afterwards we mounted our steeds in Warren
Street to escape the crowd in Broadway. We
rode down to the ferry. The creature, on top of
which I sat, was the realpotatuppy butcher’s horse.
However, it did not shake me, or pull my arms
much, so I was content. As to a horse properly
broken, either for man or woman, I have done278
JOURNAL.
looking for it in this land. We went into the
steam-boat on our horses. The mist lay thick over
the river; but the opposite shores had that grey
distinctness of colour and outline that invariably
foretells rain in England. The wind blew bitterly
keen and cold.	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	*.
Our riding party was Mr. ---------, whom I like;
Mrs.-------, whom I also like, in spite of her out-
landish riding habiliments, a brother of his, *
#	#	#	%	#
and a young --------in white hair and spectacles.
The carriage held old Mr.---------, Miss-------, the
youngest daughter, and that beautiful youngest
boy of theirs, who is so like his handsome sister;
also sundry baskets of cake, and bottles of cham-
pagne. After landing, we set off at a brisk canter
to Weehawk. None of these people know how to
ride: they just go whatever pace their horse likes,
sitting as backward as they can in the saddle, and
tugging at the reins as hard as ever they can, to
the infinite detriment of their own hands and their
horses’ mouths. When we had reached the height,
we dismounted and walked through the woods
that crown the cliffs, which here rise to an eleva-
tion of some hundred feet above the river. Our
pathway through tangled brakes, where the witheredJOURNAL.
279
trees and fallen red leaves, the bright cedar bushes,
and pale slabs of granite, formed a fine and har-
monious contrast of colouring; the whole blending
beautifully together under the grey light, that
made it look like one of RuysdaePs pictures. Our
walk terminated at a little rocky promontory, called
the DeviPs Pulpit, where, as legends say, Satan was
wont to preach, loud enough to drown the sound
of the Sabbath bells in New York. The Hudson,
far below, lay leaden and sullen; the woods along
the shores looked withered and wintry; a thick
curtain of vapour shrouded all the distance: the
effect of the whole was very sad and beautiful;
and had I been by myself I should have enjoyed
it very much. But I was in company, and, more-
over, in company with two punsters, who uttered
their atrocities without remorse in the midst of all
that was most striking and melancholy in nature.
When we mounted our horses again, Mrs.--------
complained that hers pulled her wrists most dread-
fully ; and as they seemed none of the strongest,
I exchanged steeds with her. The lady proprie-
tress of the grounds over which we had been
walking and riding invited us into the house, but
being mounted I declined, and we set off for the
pavilion. Just as we arrived there, it began to
rain. Mercy on me and Mrs. ---------! how our280
JOURNAL.
arms will ache to-morrow ! This worthy animal of
hers had a mouth a little worse than a donkey’s.
Arrived at the pavilion, we dismounted, and swal-
lowed sundry champagnes and lumps of plum
cake, which were singularly refreshing. We set
off again, and presently it began to pelt with rain.
We reached and crossed the ferry without getting
very wet. Arranged to ride on Wednesday, if
fine, and so home. Upon the whole, rather satis-
fied than otherwise with my expedition. Dressed
for dinner at once; went on with journal; Co-
lonel ---called, and sat some time. After dinner,
embroidered till eight: teaed: — my father went
over to the theatre: I practised for two hours.
Sunday, 18th.
The muscles of my arms (for I have such un-
lady-like things) stand out like lumps of stone,
with the fine exercise they had yesterday. I wonder
how Mrs.-------’s shoulders and elbows feel. *
# # # # #
It rained so, we hackneyed to church. This is
twice Mr.------has not been to church, which is
really very wrong, though it leaves us the pew
comfortably to ourselves. Dr.------- must be an
excellent good man — his sermons are every wayJOURNAL.
281
delightful; good sense, sound doctrine, and withal
a most winning mildness and gentleness of manner.
A benevolent good man, I am sure, he must be.
Came home — copied snuff-box verses for my fa-
ther ; divided out my story of the Sisters into acts
and scenes: began doing the same by the English
tragedy; but in the midst took a fancy to make a
story instead of a play of it — and so I will, I
think. Dressed for dinner. At about half-past
five Colonel — ■ and his Quaker wife came. She
is a most delightful creature, with the sweetest
expression of face imaginable. She reminded me
several times of dear Mrs. ------. Her dress, too,
the rich brown watered silk, made so plainly, re-
called Mrs.------- to me very forcibly. We had
a very comfortable dinner and evening. They
went away at about half-past ten.
Monday, 19 th.
After breakfast, wrote journal. Went out shop-
ping and returning cards; called at Mrs.-------,
and was let in. I like her; she is a nice person,
with agreeable manners. Came home at about
half-past two; put out things for the theatre; dined
at three. After dinner, pottered about clothes till282
JOURNAL.
time to go to the theatre. The house was very
good. My benefit — play, Much Ado about No-
thing. I played very well. I am much improved
in my comedy acting. Came home in a coach — it
poured with rain. What a stupidday ! The ac-
counts of cholera in New Orleans are frightful;
they have the yellow fever there too. Poor people!
what an awful visitation !
Tuesday, 2,0th.
After breakfast, wrote journal. At twelve, went
and called upon Mrs.-------: the day was bright,
but bitter cold, with a keen piercing wind that
half cut one in half, and was delicious. The ser-
vant denied Mrs. ------; but we had hardly turned
from the door when both the ladies came rushing
after us, with nothing on their heads and necks,
and thin summer gowns on. They brought us
into a room where there was a fire fit to roast an
ox. No wonder the women here are delicate and
subject to cold, and die of consumption. Here
were these sitting absolutely in an oven, in clothes
fit only for the hottest days in summer, instead of
wrapping themselves up well, and trotting out,
and warming their blood wholesomely with good
hard exercise. The pretty Mrs.---------looks veryJOURNAL.
283
sickly, and coughs terribly. Her beauty did not
strike me so much to-day. I do not admire any
body who looks as if a puff of wind would break
them in half, or a drop of water soak them through.
1 greatly prefer her sister’s looks, who certainly is
not pretty, but tall and straight, and healthy-look-
ing, and springy as a young thing ought to be.
Was introduced to a most enchanting young New-
foundland dog, whom I greatly coveted. Settled
to ride to-morrow if fine. Called at-------’s, also
at a furrier’s about cap, and came home. Found
—— and---------with my father. What a very bad
expression of face the former has; sneering and
false — terrible ! I looked at ------ with much
respect. I like his spirit, as it shines through his
works, greatly. He was a pale, sickly-looking man,
without any thing at all remarkable in the ex-
pression of his countenance. While they were
here, Mr.------called to settle about to-morrow.
He is a nice person; sensible and civil, and civil
in the right way. Arrangements were made for
dear------’s going, which I rejoiced in greatly. I
do not like at all leaving her behind. When the
folks were gone, put out things for the theatre.
While doing so, Mr.------and Mr. and Mrs.--------
called. Great discoursing about horses and horse-
manship. Dined at three. After dinner, put fur284
JOURNAL.
upon my habit. At half-past five, went to the
theatre. House very good; play, Hunchback.
By the by, Colonel —- called to-day, to entreat
me to go and see his 6i Honour, the Recorder,”
who had sent me tickets of admission to the town
hall, to see----receive the freedom of the city.
I could not go, because of our horseback expedi-
tion — this by the way. I played so-soish.--was
at the play; and at the end, somebody in the house
exclaimed, “ Three cheers for--------! ” where-
upon a mingled chorus of applause and hisses
arose. The Vice-President looked rather silly,
and acknowledged neither the one or the other.
How well I remember the Duke of---------coming
to the orchestra to see this play, the night before
it was expected the Whigs would go out. I dare
say he knew little enough what the Hunchback
was about. I do not think the people noticed him,
however; so the feeling of the pulse must have
been unsatisfactory. Mr.------- said to Modus
to-night in the play, speaking of me, “ a change
of linen will suffice for her.” How absurd ! we
were all dying on the stage. Came home; supped:
— looked at silks; chose a lovely rose-coloured
one to line my Portia dress; with which good deed
my day ended.JOURNAL,
285
Wednesday, 21st.
Looked at the sun, and satisfied with his pro-
mise, went to bed again, and slept till half-past
eight. After breakfast, wrote to his honour, the
Recorder, an humble apology in true Old Bailey
style. Wrote journal, and began practising. Mrs.
-----called before I was out of my bed to tell us
that the —*—*s were not going, but that either her
husband or her brother-in-law would be too glad
to go in the gig with D ■ —. This, however, the
latter refused, not choosing, as she said, to make
any young man do the penance of keeping her
company on a party of pleasure. Dear good old
D------! I was vexed and provoked; but it could
not be helped. At eleven,-------came for me. I
found Mrs.-------in the carriage waiting for me.
We adjourned to Warren Street, where wrere as-
sembled all the party. While we waited for our
horses, Neptune, the beautiful Newfoundland, was
admitted, and amused himself by prancing over
tables, and chairs, and sofas, to his own infinite
delight, and the visible benefit of the furniture.
Our steeds having arrived, we mounted and began
to progress. Myself, and Mrs.------, her husband,
his brother, ----, and papa -------, Dr. -------,286
JOURNAL.
Mrs.------*s brother, and Mr.------, nephew, I be-
lieve, of the Irish patriot, were the equestrians of
the party. After, followed Mr.-------- and Mrs.
-----, all be-coated and be-furred, in the stanhope.
After, followed the ammunition waggon, containing
a negro servant, Neptune, and sundry baskets of
champagne, cake, and cherry bounce. Away we
rushed down Broadway, to the infinite edification
of its gaping multitudes. Mr. -------- had gotten
me an enchanting horse that trotted like an angel.
So in spite of Major------’s awful denunciation of
<c disgusting,” I had a delicious hard trot all through
the streets, rising in my saddle like a lady, or rather,
a gentleman. My habit seemed to excite consi-
derable admiration and approbation, and indeed
it was great. Crossed the Brooklyn ferry in the
steam-boat, and safely landed on the opposite side.
The whole army defiled; the stanhope taking the
van, the horses forming the main body, and the
provisions bringing up the rear. Our party se-
parated constantly, as we progressed, into various
groups, but I remained chiefly with Dr.-----, Mr.
-----, and old Mr.-----. By the by, those-------’s
are a charming family; for Mrs.----sits straight in
her saddle, and the Doctor settled, when we started,
that when he had despatched his patients, he would
call for D----in the gig, and come down to meetJOURNAL.
287
us at the fort. Our ride thither was extremely
agreeable: the day was clear, cold, and grey; a
delightful day for riding. I trotted to my heart’s
content; and kept my blood warm, and my spirits
like champagne, till we reached the fort, when, at
sight of the Narrows, and the Sandy Hook light-
house, they sank deep, deep down. *
# #	*	#	#
# #	#	#	#
The	sea	lay grey	and	still,	without	a wave or
scarce a ripple. A thousand light skiffs, of vari-
ous shapes, lay upon the leaden waters. The sky
was a fine heap of heavy purple clouds, from be-
hind which the sun shot down his rays, which threw
a melancholy wan lustre on the sea beneath them.
*T was a sad and beautiful scene. The colouring
of the whole was gloomily harmonious; and the
dark shores and grey expanse of water blended
solemnly with the violet-coloured curtain of the
heavens. We went over the fort. ’T is a fortifi-
cation of no great size, or, I should think, strength ;
but its position, which commands the narrow en-
trance to the bay of New York, effectually checks
the pass, and guards the watery defile that leads
to the city of mammon. We looked at the guns
and powder magazine, walked round the walls,
and peeped into the officers’ quarters, and then288
JOURNAL.
descended to seek where we might eat and be sa-
tisfied. Mrs.----- is a very nice creature: she
looks the picture of good temper — never stands
still a minute; and as we rode along to-day, when,
fearing she might be cold, I asked her how she
found herself, she replied, with perfect innocence
and sincerity, “ Oh, delightful! ” which made us
all scream. We knocked up the quarters of an
old woman who kept a cottage, not exactly young
love’s humble shed, but good enough for our pur-
pose. We got sundry logs of wood, and made a
blazing fire ; moreover, the baskets were opened,
and presently we presented the interesting spec-
tacle of a dozen people each with a lump of cake
in one hand, and a champagne glass in the other.
Mr.------ and Mrs. ------- stuck to the cherry
bounce, and, as we afterwards heard, drove home
accordingly. Having discussed, we remounted,
and set forwards home by another road; a very
lovely one, all along the river side. Ere we had
progressed long, we met D------and Dr.--------in
the gig. The nice good man had kept his word,
and gone to fetch her. They had met Mr.-------’s
equipage going cherry-bounce pace, it seems, two
miles ahead of us. The men here are never happy
unless they are going full speed. ’T is no wonder
their horses are good for nothing: they would ruin*JOURNAL.
289
any horses that were good for any thing.* Such un-
skilful horsemanship I never saw : Going full tear;
crossing one another in every direction; knock-
ing up against one another; splashing through
puddles because they have no hand over their
horses, and either overshooting their point, or be-
ing half thrown at every turn of the road for the
same reason. Came home full speed, and arrived
at half-past four, having ridden, I should think,
nearly twenty miles. Found Mrs. — at home.
They pressed me very much to stay dinner with
them; but my father expected me, and I would
not. That worthy youth,--------, insisted upon my
accepting his beautiful large dog, Neptune, which
I did conditionally, in case Mr.-----should fail
me, which I think a very improbable case indeed.
They ordered the carriage, and Mr.------persisted
* It is quite curious to observe how utterly unknown a
thing a really well broken horse is in this country. I have
just bought one who was highly approved and recommended
by several gentlemen considered here as learned in all these
matters; and of my own knowledge, I might hunt the Union
over and not find a better. As far as the make, and beauty,
and disposition of the animal goes, there is no fault to find;
but this lady’s horse never had a woman on its back, had
never been ridden but with a snaffle bit, and until she came
into my possession, did not know how to canter with her
right foot. When the Americans say a horse is well broken,
they mean it is not wild.
VOL. I.
O290
JOURNAL.
in seeing me home in it, much to my annoyance,
as ’t was a very useless ceremony indeed. Did
not dishabit, but dined en amazone. #
* # # # #
Gave D------ her muff and tippet, which are
exceedingly magnificent. After dinner, pottered
about, and dressed at once. Played on the piano
till nine, when we adjourned to-------’s. A com-
plete “ small party, my dear.” Dr.----------- was
there, whom I was glad to see; also Mrs.---------;
also Mr. and Miss---------; also that Mrs. —,
who is utter horror and perturbation of spirit to
me; also-------; also-----; all our riding party,
and a world besides. After a little time, dancing
was proposed; and I stood up to waltz with Mr.
-----, who observed that Dr.--------was gone, as
he never chose to be present while waltzing was
going on. I felt shocked to death that uncon-
sciously I should have been instrumental in driv-
ing him away, and much surprised that those who
knew his disapprobation of waltzing should have
proposed it. However, he was gone, and did not
return. Therefore I waltzed myself out of my
conscientious remorse. Sang them Fanny Gray,
and Ye Mariners of Spain. Danced sundry quad-
rilles ; and, finally, what they called a Kentucky
reel, — which is nothing more than Sir Roger deJOURNAL.
291
Coverly turned Backwoodsman — and afterwards
a “ foursome reel.” Played magic music; and,
finally, at one o’clock, came home, having danced
myself fairly off my legs.
Thursday, 22d.
It poured with rain all day. Dr.---------called,
and gave me a sermon about waltzing. As it was
perfectly good sense, to which I could reply no-
thing whatever in the shape of objection, I pro-
mised him never to waltz again, except with a
woman, or my brother.	*	*
* # * # #
After all, ’t is not fitting that a man should put his
arm round one’s waist, whether one belongs to
any one but one’s self or not. ’Tis much against
what I have always thought most sacred, — the
dignity of a woman in her own eyes and those of
others. I like Dr.--------most exceedingly. He
spoke every way to my feelings of what was right,
to-day. After saying that he felt convinced, from
conversations which he had heard amongst men,
that waltzing was immoral in its tendency, he
added, I am married, and have been in love,
and cannot imagine any thing more destructive of
the deep and devoted respect which love is cal-
o 229£
JOURNAL.
culated to excite in every honourable man’s heart,
not only for the individual object of his affections,
but for her whole sex, than to see any and every
impertinent coxcomb in a ball-room come up to
her, and, without remorse or hesitation, clasp her
waist, imprison her hand, and absolutely whirl her
round in his arms.” So spake the Doctor; and
my sense of propriety and conviction of right bore
testimony to the truth of his saying. So, farewell,
sweet German waltz ! — next to hock, the most
intoxicating growth of the Rheinland. I shall
never keep time to your pleasant measure again !
— no matter; after all, any thing is better than to
be lightly spoken of, and to deserve such mention.
Mr*-------called, and sat some time with me. He
is grown monstrously fat, and looks perfectly
radiant. He brought with him a good-looking
staring man of the name of---------. We dined at
three. After dinner, received a pretty anonymous
nosegay, with sundry very flattering doggrel. The
play was the Stranger. It poured cats and dogs,
and the streets were all grey pudding. I did not
expect to see six people in the house; instead of
which, ’twas crowded : a satisfactory proof of our
attraction.JOURNAL.
293
Friday, 23d.
At eleven, went to rehearsal — Isabella. I have
forgotten all about it. They all read their parts ;
came home; began to practise. The two Mrs.
-----called. I like them mainly, Mrs. —— par-
ticularly. While they were here, Mr.----------and
a man called; they stayed but a minute. By and
by, in walked Mr. and Mrs.--------; whereupon the
■» departed.	*	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
While they were here, received from-----------the
beautiful annual he has bought for me, which is,
indeed, most beautiful; and with it, literally a
copy of verses, which are not so bad neither —
only think of that! !! The engravings are from
things of Stanfield’s, taken on the Rhine; and
made my heart ache to be once more in Europe,
in the old land where fairy tales are told; in the
old feudal world, where every rock, and valley,
and stream, are haunted with imaginings wild and
beautiful: the hallowed ground of legend history;
the dream-land of fancy and of poetry. Put out
things for the theatre: dined at three. Colonel
— - called : he brought news of the arrival of a
o 3294
JOURNAL.
Liverpool packet, and prophesied letters to me.
Went to the theatre. Play, Hunchback— house
very fine again. Just as I was dressing for the
second act, three letters were brought into my
room.	*	*	*	*
#	#	#	#	#
*	#	*	#	*
I was so much overset by them, that, with the
strange faculty I have of pouring one feeling into
another, I cried so bitterly in the parting scene
with Clifford, that I could scarcely utter the words
of my part.	*	*	*
#	#	*	#	#
*	#	#	#	*
Saturday, 2^th.
Our riding expedition having been put off, the
day was beautifully bright and clear. Sat stitch-
ing and pottering an infinity. My feet got so
perished that I didn’t know what to do. Wrote
journal; practised for an hour; Mr.----------called.
When he was gone, went out with my father.
Called at------’s to order home my gown for din-
ner-time. Left a card at Mrs. —.........*s, and then
marched down to the tailor’s to upbraid him aboutJOURNAL.
295
my waistcoat, which is infamously ill made.* Com-
ing home, met that very odious Mr. ——, who is
the perfection of genteel vulgarity. He walked
home with us. Dressed for dinner. Mme. — ■■
did not send my gown home in time: abominable
sempstress ! so put on my blue and looked rather
dowdy. Found sundry that we knew: Colonel
-----; Mr. ——; my favourite aversion, Mr.
•----; that signal fool, Mr.----; Miss------, who
looked like a hair-dresser’s wax block; a Miss---,
with lovely feet, and a terrified Bacchante-looking
head, cum multis aliis. I sat by one Mr.---------,
who talked without end, and cleverly enough : in-
deed, it was rather clever to talk so wonderfully
fast and much. After dinner, the party became
* The various censures which English travellers have be-
stowed upon various things in this country are constantly,
both in private conversation and the public prints, attributed
to English jealousy. I confess I have been amused at the
charge, and can only sincerely hope I may not draw down so
awful an accusation on myself, when I declare, that, during a
three years’ residence in America, almost every article, of
every description, which I have had made, has been ill made,
and obliged to undergo manifold alterations. I don’t pre-
tend to account for the fact, for fear the obvious reasons
might appear to find their source in that very small jealousy
of which England is guilty towards this country, in the per-
son of her journal-scribbling travellers; but to the fact there
is and can be no denial.
o 4296
JOURNAL.
much larger: Dr.-------, Mr.-------, the----- (all
but------), that entire self-satisfaction, Mr.---,
Mr.------,and the knight of the rueful countenance;
three singing men, ycleped---; and a shoal be-
sides. One of the Mr.--------- and Miss — sang
the duet in the Didone, that dear------and-------
used to sing so lovelily. They both had good
voices, but the style is but so-soish. Presently,
three men sang that sea glee that I remember
Lord and Lady--------teaching me at------. What
a strange faculty of our nature this is, this leading
back of our minds to the past, through the agency
of our senses, acted upon by present influences,
the renewing life, the magical summoning up of
dead time from its grave, with the very place and
circumstance it wore. Wondrous riddle ! what
— what are we, that are so curiously made ? By
and by dancing was proposed, and I was much
entreated and implored to change my determin-
ation about waltzing; but I was inexorable, and
waltzed only with the ladies, who one and all dance
extremely well. Mrs. — looked lovely to-night.
Dr.------says very true, she has a thorough-bred
look, which reminds me a little of our noble En-
glish ladies. He says she is like Lady-------. I
think she is prettier: she certainly looks like a
gem. We danced a Kentucky reel, and sundryJOURNAL.
297
quadrilles. That long ens, Mr. —, was tipsy,
and went slithering about in a way to kill one; and
Mr.-------was sitting slyly in the corner, pretend-
ing to talk to D-----, but in fact dying with laughter
at poor------, who meandered about the room to
the infinite dismay and confusion of the whole
dance. Vain were the vigorous exertions of his
partner, who pulled him this way and that, and
pushed him hither and thither, to all which the
unresisting creature submitted incorrigibly. Re-
mained dancing till half-past twelve, in fact, Sunday
morning, and then came home. They made me
sing, which I did abominably. On my return
home, found my black satin gown; every atom of
which will have to be unpicked — pleasant! The
trades-people here are really terrible; they can do
nothing, and will take no pains to do any thing:
’t is a handsome gown spoilt.*
* When you carry your complaint of careless work, or
want of punctuality, to the trades-people whom you employ
here, the unfortunate principals really excite your sympathy
by their helpless situation with regard to the free re-
publicans whom they employ, and who, with the utter com-
tempt of subordination which the cheapness of living, and
the spirit of licence (not liberty) produce among the lower
classes here, come when they please, depart when they like,
work when they choose, and if you remonstrate, take them-
selves off to new masters, secure of employment in your
o 529$
JOURNAL*
Sunday, 25th.
My dear father’s birth-day f also, by the by,
a grand occasion here — the anniversary of the
evacuation of the island by the British troops,
which circumstance the worthy burghers have
celebrated ever since with due devotion and thank-
fulness. Went to church: Dr.-----did not preach,
which was a disappointment to me. The music
was exquisite; and there was a beautiful graceful
willow branch, with its long delicate fibres and
golden leaves, waving against the blue sky and the
neighbour’s house, if your mode of employing them dis-
pleases them. Manifold are the lamentations I have heard,
of “ Oh, ma’am, this is not like the old country; we can’t
get journeymen to work here, ma’am; we’re obliged to do
just as our workmen please, ma’am.” One poor French
dress-maker appeared to me on the verge of distraction,
from the utter impossibility of keeping in any order a tribe
of sewing girls, whom she seemed to pay on purpose that
they might drive her crazy; and my shoemaker assured me
the other day, with a most woful face, that it was election
week, and that if I was as suffering for shoes as a lady could
be, I could not have mine till the political cobblers in his
employ had settled the w business of the nation ” to their
satisfaction. Patience is the only remedy. Whoever lives
here, that has ever lived elsewhere, should come provided
with it.JOURNAL.
299
church window, that seemed to me like a magical
branch in a fairy tale. It struck me as strange
to-day, as I looked from the crowded gloomy
church to the bright unbounded sky, to think that
we call the one the house of God; to be sure, we
have other authority for calling the blue heavens
his throne; and oh, how glorious they did look!
The day was bright, but bitter cold. Coming
out of church, saw all our last night’s party. On
my return home, found a perfect levee; Dr.---,
Mr. -----, Mr. -----•, Mr. ----, Mr. ------, a
whole regiment. When they were all gone, wrote
journal: having finished that and my lunch, set
out with my father to fetch a walkwhich we did
to the tune of near six miles, through all the
outskirts of the town, an exceedingly low-life
ramble indeed — during which we came across a
man who was preaching in the street. He had
not a very large assembly round him, and we stood
in the crowd to hear him. By his own account,
he had been imprisoned before for a similar pro-
ceeding, and he was denouncing, most vehemently,
signal judgments on the blind and wicked corpor-
ation who had so stopped the work of righteous-
ness. The man’s face was a very fine one, re-
markably intelligent and handsome: he was cleanly
and well dressed, and had altogether a respectable
o 6300
JOURNAL*
appearance. When we came home, it was past
four. Dressed for dinner. My father dined with
Mr. —; so D----------and I had a tete-a-tete dinner.
After which, played on the piano for some time;
after which, began letter to H-------; after which,
wrote journal.	#	#	#
# #	#	#	*
# #	#	%	#
Monday, 9,6th,
Yesterday was evacuation day; but as yesterday
was the Lord's day also, the American militia army
postponed their yearly exhibition, and, instead of
rushing about the streets in token of their thank-
fulness at the departure of the British, they quietly
went to church, and praised God for that same.
To-day, however, we have had firing of pop-guns,
waving of star-spangled banners (some of them
rather the worse for wear), infantry marching
through the streets, cavalry (oh, Lord, what deli-
cious objects they were!) and artillery prancing
along them, to the infinite ecstasy and peril of a
dense mob. Went to rehearsal at half-past ten.
Was detained full ten minutes on the way thither,
by the defiling of troops, who were progressing
down Broadway. After rehearsal, came home —JOURKAL.
SOI
put out things for the theatre. Mr. -— called:
while he was here, spent a delightful half hour at the
window, which, overlooking the park, commanded
a full view of the magnanimous military marshal-
led there. O, pomp and circumstance of glorious
war! They were certainly not quite so bad as
Falstaff’s men, of ragged memory; for, for aught
I know to the contrary, they perhaps all of them
had shirts to their backs. But some had gloves, and
some had none; some carried their guns one way,
and some another; some had caps of one fashion,
and some of another; some had no caps at all,
but 66 shocking bad hats,” with feathers in them.#
* This description may amaze sundry narrow-minded and
prejudiced dwellers in those unhappy countries where stand-
ing armies are among the standing abuses, and the miserable
stipendiaries of hoary tyrannies go about wearing the livery
of their trade with a slavish unanimity becoming alone to
hirelings, and salaried butchers base. But whoever should
imagine that the members of an enlightened and free re-
public must, because they condescend to become soldiers,
for the pure love of their country, behave as soldiers also,
would draw foolish conclusions. Discipline, order, a pecu-
liar carriage, a particular dress, obedience to superiors, and
observance of rules, these, indeed, may all be the attributes
of such miserable creatures as are content to receive wages
for their blood. But for free Americans! why should they
not walk crooked, in the defence of their country, if they
don’t like to walk straight ? why should they not carry their
guns on their shoulders instead of upright, if they please ?302
JOURNAL.
The infantry were, however, comparatively re-
spectable troops. They did not march many de-
grees out of the straight line, or stoop too much,
or turn their heads round too often. Mr.-------------
remarked, that militia were seldom more steady
and orderly in their appearance. But the cavalry!
oh, the cavalry! what gems without price they
were! Apparently extremely frightened at the
shambling tituppy chargers upon whose backs
they clung, straggling in all directions, putting
the admiring crowd in fear of their lives, and
proving beyond a doubt how formidable they must
appear to the enemy, when, with the most peace-
able intentions in the world, they thus jeopardied
the safety of their enthusiastic fellow-citizens.
Bold would have been the man who did not edge
backwards into the crowd, as a flock of these
worthies a-horseback came down the street —
some trotting, some galloping, some racking, some
ambling; each and all " witching the world with
wondrous horsemanship.” If any thing ever might
and why, since they chose to defend their lives and liberties
by becoming volunteers, should they not stick any feathers,
of any colours that they like in their caps — black, white, or
green ? Is the noble occupation of war incompatible with
the still nobler possession of freedom ? Heaven forbid!
and long live the American militia to prove their entire com-
patibility.JOURNAL*
303
be properly called wondrous, they, their riders
and accoutrements, deserve the title. Some wore
boots, and some wore shoes, and one independent
hero had got on grey stockings and slippers! Some
had bright yellow feathers, and some red and
black feathers! I remembered, particularly, a
doctor, in a black suit, Hessian boots, a cocked
hat, and bright yellow gauntlets; another fellow
was dressed in the costume of one of the Der
Freyschutz’s corps: it looked for all the world like
a fancy parade. The officers fulfilled completely
my idea of Macheath’s company of gentlemen of
the road; only, I strongly suspect the latter would
have been heartily ashamed of the unhappy hacks
the evacuation heroes had gotten up upon. The
parade terminated with a full half hour’s feu de
joie.f	*	*	*	*
■f* The militia has fallen into disrepute of late in New
York and Philadelphia. Trainings and parades take too
much of the precious time, whose minutes are cents, and
hours dollars. The only instance of humour, national or
individual, which I have witnessed since my abode in this
country, was a sham parade got up in mimicry of the real
one here described. In this grotesque procession, every
man was dressed in the most absurd costume he could
devise: banners with the most ludicrous inscriptions, wooden
swords of gigantic dimensions, and children’s twopenny guns
were some of their paraphernalia; and, in the absurd and$04
JOURNAL.
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
The bands of these worthies were worthy of them;
half a dozen fifers and drummers playing old
English jig tunes. In spite of the folly and in-
justice of such a comparison, I could not keep
out of my head the last soldiers I had seen, those
fine tall fellows, the grenadier guards, that used
to delight us of a Sunday morning in St. James’s
Park, and their exquisite band, and dandy-looking
officers. Those looked like soldiers, whatever they
may fight like; and allowing these excellent good
folks to be very lions, look you, I can only say
their appearance approached the sublime, by as
near as the French critic assures us the extreme
monstrous objects the men had made of themselves, with
false whiskers, beards, and noses, I recognised some of the
broad, coarse, powerful humour of the lower orders in the
old country. But it is the only symptom of such a spirit
which I have met with. The absolute absence of imagin-
ation, of course, is also the absolute absence of humour. An
American can no more understand a fanciful jest than a
poetical idea ; and in society and conversation, the strictest
matter of fact prevails: for any thing departing from it, though
but an inch, either towards the sublime or the ridiculous,
becomes immediately incomprehensible to your auditors, who
will stare at your enthusiasm, and sincerely ask you the
meaning of your jest.JOURNAL.
305
of the ridiculous does. Dined at three;----and
----- called after dinner. My father went with
Mr.-------to Tammany Hall*, where there was a
grand democratic dinner, in honour of the triumph
of the Jackson party, the mob men here. I sat
writing to — till time to go to the theatre. The
play was Isabella; the house crammed; a regular
holyday audience—shrieking, shouting, laughing,
and rowing, like one of our own Christmas audi-
ences. I acted like a wretch. My dresses looked
very handsome, particularly my marriage dress;
but my muslin bed-gown was so long that I set
my feet through it the very first thing; and those
animaux betes, who dragged me off, tore a beau-
tiful point lace veil I had on to tatters, a thing
that cost three guineas, if a farthing ! My father
received a most amusing letter this morning from
Lord------, asking us to come over to Jamaica
and act, offering us quarters in his house, and
plenty of volunteer actors (did he include him-
self, I wonder?) to make up a company, if we will
come. I should like it very well: to pass the
winter in that nice warm climate would be de-
lightful, and I dare say we should find our stay
* A place devoted to political meetings, chiefly, however,
I believe, those termed here “ democratic.”306
JOURNAL.
there amusing and agreeable enough. I wish we
could do it.
Tuesday, With.
After breakfast, Colonel........called. Put out
things for to-night. At half-past twelve, went out
with my father and Colonel----------. Called upon
his honour, the Recorder, but he was in court,
and not to be seen. Walked down to the Battery.
The day was most lovely, like an early day in
June in England: my merino gown was intoler-
able, and I was obliged to take a parasol with me,
the sun was so powerful. The Battery was, as
usual, totally deserted, though the sky, and shores,
and beautiful bright bay, were smiling in perfect
loveliness. A delicious fresh breeze came wan-
dering over the wide estuary; and graceful boats,
with their full sails glittering in the sun, glided to
and fro, swift and strong, over the smooth waters,
like summer clouds across the blue heavens — as
silently, as rapidly, as tracklessly.f *	*
f It is the property of perfection alone to rivet the ad-
miration of absolute ignorance; whence I conclude that the
river craft, hovering from morning till night along the waters
that surround New York, must be the most beautiful in the
world. Their lightness, grace, swiftness, and strength, ap-JOURNAL.
307
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Came home at half-past one. Found a card
from Mrs.-------.	1’m sorry I didn’t see her.
-----called, with one Mr.---------, kinsman to the
authoress.	#	#	#	#
, #	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
While they were here, Mrs.----------called to settle
about to-morrow’s ride. Mr. and Mrs. — ar-
riving, the rest departed. We dined at three.
After dinner, came to my own room; wrote jour-
nal ; went on with letter to--------. At half-past
five, went to the theatre. Play, the Gamester;
my father’s benefit; the house was very good. I
played pretty well. Mr. ---------- thoroughly bo-
thered me, by standing six yards behind me: what
a complete stroller’s trick that is. So we are to
act on Saturday. If I can go to the opera, all
the same, I sha’n’t mind so much; but I will be
in most horrible dudgeon if it prevents that, for I
want to hear this new prima donna. Mr.-------------
was behind the scenes, and----------wrapt, in his
usual seat: he’s a delightful bit of audience.
pear to me unequalled. Such beautiful vessels I never saw;
more beautiful ones I cannot imagine.308
JOURNAL*
Received a bill of the intended performances for
Thursday, Mr. —-’s benefit; and such another
force as the whole thing is I never heard of; as
Mr.------says, “ the benefit of humbug,” indeed.
#	#	#	#	#
#	#	#	#	#
Came home. While we were at supper, my
father showed me a note he had received from
—, which, to use a most admirable vulgarism,
struck me all of a heap. A sort of threatening
letter, desiring him, as he valued his interest, to
come forward and offer to act Charles the Second
for the said Mr.------’s benefit, having already
agreed to act in one piece, for said Mr.-----’s
benefit. “ O monstrous ! monstrous ! most un-
natural ! ” What a vulgar wretch the man
must be!
Wednesday, 28th.
Mary------’s wedding day! Poor lassie! I looked
at the bright morning sun with pleasure for her sake.
After breakfast, sat reading the poems of Willis, a
young man, whose works, young as they evidently
are, would have won him some consideration in
any but such a thorough work-day world as this.
I cried a good deal over some of this man’s verses.JOURNAL.
309
I thought some of them beautiful; and ’t is the
property of beauty to stir the wells of my soul
sadly, rather than cast sunshine over them. I
think all things are sad. *T is sad to hear sweet
music; ’t is sad to read fine poetry; ’t is sad to
look upon the beautiful face of a fair woman; ’t is
sad to behold the unclouded glory of a summer’s
sky. There is a deep and lingering tone in the
harmony of all beauty that resounds in our souls
with too full and solemn a vibration for pleasure
alone. In fact, intensity, even of -joy and delight,
is in itself serious; ’t is impossible to be fulfilled
with emotion of any sort and not feel as though
we were within the shadow of a cloud.* I re-
member when first I recited Juliet to my mother,
she said I spoke the balcony scene almost sadly.
Was not such deep, deep love too strong, too
passionate, too pervading, to be uttered with the
light laughing voice of pleasure? Was not that
love, even in its fulness of joy, sad—awful? How-
ever, perhaps, I do but see through my own me-
dium, and fancy it the universal one. My eyes
are dark, and most things look darkly through
* In Canova’s group of Cupid and Psyche, the young god
is smiling like a god; but the eager parted lips with which
Psyche is seeking his, wear no such expression — you might
fancy they trembled, but they certainly do not smile.310
JOURNAL.
them. At about twelve o’clock Mrs.----------called
for me; and, escorted by her husband and Mr.
-----, we rode forth to visit the island. We went
to a pretty cottage belonging to Mr.------9s father-
in-law, Dr.------. The day was still and grey —
a pleasant day; there was no sunshine, but nei-
ther were there any dark shadows. My horse
had been ill ridden by somebody or another, and
was mighty disagreeable. Our ride was pleasant
enough: there was not much variety in the country
we passed through. Masses of granite and greenish
basalt,’wild underwood, and vivid bright-looking
cedar bushes. The Hudson lay leaden and sullen
under the wings of the restless wind. We stood
to hear the delicious music of the water plashing
against the rocky shore, which is the pleasantest
sound in all the world. We then rode to a place
ycleped Hell-gate#, from a dangerous current in
the East river, where ships have been lost — and
home through the mellow sunlight of a warm au-
tumnal afternoon. Came in at a little past four.
* The ladies of New York, and all lady-like people there,
have agreed to call this eddy Hurl-gate, The superior pro-
priety of this name is not to be questioned; for hell is a
shocking bad word, no doubt: but being infinitely more
appropriate to the place and its qualities, I have ventured to
mention it.JOURNAL.
311
Devoured sundry puddings and pies; put out
clothes for the evening; dined at five. My father
dined at------’s: I *ve an especial fancy for that
man. After dinner, sat making blonde tippet, and
strumming on the piano till eight. Drank tea,
dressed, and off to Mrs.------’s “ small party, my
dear.”	*	#	#	#
#	#	*	*	#
#	#	#	#	#
The people here have no conscience about the
questions they ask; and, as I have one in answer-
ing, and always give them “ the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the truth,” it follows that
nothing can be more disagreeable than their que-
ries, except my replies. Mr. -------was there; I
like him: he has something in him, and is not
vulgar or impertinent. Was introduced to a very
handsome French creole woman*, whom I liked :
she reminded me of my mother, and her son bore
* The ladies here have an extreme aversion to being called
women, I don’t exactly understand why. Their idea is, that
that term designates only the lower or less refined classes of
female human-kind. This is a mistake which I wonder they
should fall into; for in all countries in the world, queens,
duchesses, and countesses, are called women; but in this
one alone, washerwomen, sempstresses, and housemaids are
entitled ladies; so that, in fact, here woman is by far the
more desirable appellation of the two.812
JOURNAL.
a striking resemblance to dear-----. We stood
up to dance a couple of quadrilles; but as they
had not one distinct idea of what the figures were,
the whole was a mess of running about, explain-
ing, jostling, and awkward blundering.* I took
greatly to the governess of the family, a German
woman, with a right German face, a nice person,
with quiet simple manners. The women’s voices
here distract me; so loud, so rapid, and with
such a twang! What a pity! for they are, almost
without an exception, lovely-looking creatures,
with an air of refinement in their appearance,
which would be very attractive, but for their style
of dress, and those said tremendous shrill loud
* The established succession of figures which form the
one French quadrille, in executing which the ball-rooms of
Paris and London have spent so many satisfactory hours,
ever since it was invented, by no means satisfies the Ameri-
cans. At the close of almost every quadrille, a fancy figure
is danced, which, depending entirely upon the directions of
the leader of the band, is a very curious medley of all the
rest. The company not being gifted with second sight, and
of course not knowing at every step what next they may be
called upon to do, go fearfully sliding along, looking at each
other, asking, “ how does it go on ?” some en avant deuxing,
while others are starting off en promenade, the whole being
a complete confusion of purpose and execution. The com-
mon French figure, the Trenis, is very seldom danced at all,
— they do not appear to know it.JOURNAL.
313
voices.* Came home at twelve o’clock. My fa-
vourite aversion, Mrs.------------, was there.
* This terrible nuisance has often made me wish for that
“ still small voice,” which has become the universal tone of
good society in England, and which, however inconvenient
sometimes from its utter inaudibility, at least did not send
one to bed with one’s ears ringing and one’s head splitting.
I was in a society of about twelve ladies, the other evening,
and the wproar was so excessive that I felt my eyebrows
contracting from a sense of perfect bewilderment, occasioned
by the noise all round me, and more than once was obliged
to request the person with whom I was conversing to stop
till the noise had subsided a little, that I might be able to
distinguish what he was saying to me. Were the women
here large and masculine in their appearance, this defect
would appear less strange, though not less disagreeable; but
they are singularly delicate and feminine in their style of
beauty; and the noise they make strikes one with surprise
as something monstrous and unnatural — like mice roaring.
They frequently talk four or five at a time, and directly across
each other; neither of which proceedings is exactly accord-
ing to my ideas of good breeding.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
VOL. I.
PLondon:
nt.ed by A. Spottiswodd
Ncw'-Street-Square.Lately was published, by Mr. Murray,
In 8 vo,
A TENTH EDITION OF
FRANCIS THE FIRST,
a it Historical Drama.
By FRANCES ANN KEMBLE
(Now Mrs. PIERCE BUTLER).JOURNAL OF A RESIDENCE AND TOUR
IN THE
UNITED STATES OF NORTH AMERICA,
From APRIL 1833, to OCTOBER 1831.
By E. S. ABDY, Fellow or Jesus College, Cambridge.
In 8 vols. post 8vo.
The distinction of colour is unknown in Europe.”
Speech oj Chancellor Kent in the Debates of the
New York State Convention.
The chief object of the Author has been to call public at-
tention to a state of things in America that is opposed to
every principle by which humanity is to be protected or reli-
gion promoted; a system so degrading and disgraceful, that
want of information alone can justify or explain the apathy of
Europe upon'a subject which must be interesting to all who
have raised her moral influence by their benevolent exer-
tions.
What he has said of the schools and prisons, and other
public institutions, in the United States, may be found
perhaps in other publications; but so little has been seen or
narrated of the African race in that country, that few are
acquainted with its condition, and still fewer are aware that
nearly one fifth of the American population are deprived of
those privileges which can alone enable them to perform their
duties as men and as Christians.
John Murray, Albemarle Street.