j II8RASY I 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 CAROLINE GUSHING DUNIWAY 
 
,1) 
 
JOURNAL 
 
 RESIDENCE IN AMERICA 
 
JOURNAL 
 
 RESIDENCE IN AMERICA. 
 
 FRANCES ANNE BUTLER 33 *" 
 
 (MISS F A N X Y K. E M B I. E ). 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 PARIS, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY A. AND W. GALIGNANI AND C, 
 
 RI:E vivrtxjfE, N 18. 
 
 1835. 
 
Kf 
 
 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 curiosily has of late been excited in England with regard to 
 America : its political existence is a momentous experiment, upon which 
 many eyes are fixed, in anxious watching of the result ; and such ac 
 counts 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 present these volumes to the English public without 
 disclaiming both the intention and the capability of adding the slightest 
 detail of any interest to those which other travellers have already furnish 
 ed 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 
 Slates. 
 
 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 opportunity of seeing 
 two large portions of the population of this country, the enterprising 
 explorers of the late wildernesses on the shores of the Mississippi, 
 and the black race of the slave slates, both classes of men presenting 
 peculiarities of infinite interest to the traveller : the one, a source of 
 
 924 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 energy and growing strength, the other, of disease and decay, in this vast 
 
 political body. 
 
 My sphere of observation has been confined to the Atlantic cities, 
 whose astonishing mercantile prosperity, and motley mongrel socie 
 ties, 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 occasion for maturer investigation. The notes I 
 have added while preparing the text for the press j and such opinions 
 and details as they contain are the result of a longer residence in 
 this country, and a somewhat belter acquaintance with the people 
 of it. 
 
 Written, as my journal was, day by day, and often after the fa 
 tigues 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 rather write a belter, I 
 would have endeavoured to correct them, though, indeed, I was some 
 thing of Aliieri s mind about it : " Quanto poi allo stile, io penso di 
 lasciar fare alia penna, e di pochissimo lasciarlo scostarsi da quella 
 triviale e spontanea naturalezza, con cui ho scrilto quest opera, dettata 
 dal cuoie e non dall ingegno j e che sola puo convenire a cosi umiie 
 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, 1852. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 =f * * * * 
 
 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 letters, and bid me good-by. 
 
 =*- * Jf- * *- 
 
 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. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 The sky had become clouded, and the wind blew cold. 
 
 * + * * * 
 
 Game down and put our narrow 7 room to rights. 
 
 Worked at my Bible-cover till dinner-time. \Ve dined at half-past 
 three. The table was excellent 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-na 
 tured, and talkative. Ourpassengers are all men, with the exception of 
 three; a nice pretty-looking girl, who is going out with her brother; a 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 fat old woman, and a fat young one. I cried almost the whole of 
 dinner-time. * * * * 
 
 * * * * 4 
 
 After dinner the ladies adjourned to their own cabin, and the gen 
 tlemen 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 
 continued with considerable merriment. Presently my father, Colo 
 nel -, 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 wasbrrn, how my heart yearns towards your earth ! I sat work 
 ing 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, 2rf. 
 
 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 lay still, and grey, 
 
 without ridge or sparkle, a sheet of lead ; the sky was of (he same dull 
 colour. The deck was wet and comfortless. We were but just off Ho- 
 lyhead : 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 pas 
 senger, 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 
 
JOURNAL 3 
 
 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 comfortably discussed it. Got up, de 
 voured some raspberry-tart and grapes, and, being altogether delightful 
 again, sat working and singing till tea-time : after which, wrote journal, 
 and now to bed. How strange it seems to hear these Americans speak 
 ing in English of the English! " Oh, hame, name, hame wad I be," 
 but it is not time to sing that yet. 
 
 Friday , 5f/. 
 
 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 Captain Whaite : the latter is a very intelligent 
 
 good-natured person; rough and bluff, and only seven-and-lwenty ; 
 which makes his having the command of a ship rather an awful consi 
 deration. At half-past eleven got my German, and worked at it till half- 
 past one, then got my work ; and presently \ve 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 passengers. My father 
 was in the chair. Mr. was voted secretary, Dr. attorney-gene 
 ral ; a badge was established, rules and regulations laid down, a code 
 framed, and much laughing and merriment thence ensued. Worked 
 till dinner-time. After dinner, went on deck, took a brisk w r alk for half 
 an hour with Captain Whaite. Established myself to work, and pre 
 sently we were all summoned to attend a mock trial of Colonel . 
 
 which made us all laugh most exceedingly. W 7 e adopted titlesI chose 
 my family appellation of Pudclledock : many of the names were very 
 absurd, and as a penalty ensued upon not giving every body their pro 
 per designation, much amusement arose from it. When the trial was 
 wer, we played at dumb crambo, and earth, air, and water, with infi- 
 
h JOURNAL 
 
 nile 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 slood 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 pleasantly spent. 
 Came to bed at ten. 
 
 Wednesday, I5t/i. 
 
 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. Breakfasted, sat working at my Bible-cover till 
 lunch-time. Somebody ^sked 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 collected 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 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 
 F was tired ; dozed, and finally came to bed. Bed ! quotha ! t is a fright 
 ful 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 
 
JOUR\ 7 AL. 
 
 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 helow 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 ! 
 
 Thursday, \6tli. 
 
 Another day, another day ! the old fellow posts as well over water as 
 flver land ! Rose at about half-past eight, went up to the round-house ; 
 breakfasted, 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 detail 
 ed 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 
 (o prove a serious one, for in America, it seems, t is 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 
 (he 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, 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-lime; afterwards took up Chilcle Harold, com 
 mend 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 were generalities, but all the poin!s indivi 
 dualities : I w r as 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 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 informer was right. The day was bright, and bitter cold,- the sea blue, 
 and transparent as that loveliest line in Dante, 
 
 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, I ll swear I 
 love infinitely. Read aloud to them some of Byron s short poems, and 
 that glorious hymn to the sea, in Ghilde 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, 
 
 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, ploughmen, 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 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-wrapped, to care for it; 
 however, if a wasp s sting have such virtue in it, t is as well it should 
 have been felt as keenly as it was. Ate nothing but figs and raisins; in 
 the evening some of our gentlemen came into our cabin, and sat with us ; 
 I, in very desperation and sea-sickness, began embroidering one of my 
 old nightcaps, wherein I persevered till sleep overlook me. 
 
JOURNAL */ 
 
 
 
 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 senti 
 mental (jalimaiias 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 their works or rather, 
 that what they give us, and what we take for heart feeling, is head 
 weaving 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. 
 
 * **>( 4 
 
 Our company consists chiefly of traders in cloth and hardware, clerks, 
 and counting-house men a species with but few peculiarities of interest 
 (o me, who cannot talk pounds, shillings, and pence, as glibly as less 
 substantial trash. Most of ihem 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 widower, whose remarks on 
 the starry inside of the sea attracted my attention the other even 
 ing, put into my hands to-day a couple of pretty little looks enough; 
 a sort of hotch-potch, or, to speak more sweetly, pot-pourri praise of wo 
 men passages selected from various authors who have done us the ho 
 nour to remember us in their good commendaiions. 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 Shelley s, " What is Love ? " and yet they are 
 both beautiful, powerful, and true. I could have helped them to sun 
 dry more passages on this subject, particularly from my oracle. Mr. 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 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 heen 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 con 
 sequence 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 dismissed 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 second 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 arid 
 
 wives ! " I drank in my heart" Home and dear H ." One thing 
 
 iunused me a good deal : the Captain proposed as a toast, " The La 
 diesGod bless them," which accordingly was being duly drunk, when 
 I heard, close to my elbow, a devout, half audible u and the Lord deli 
 ver us!" This, from a man with a face like one ofRetsch 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 Baccjius," in full chorus, to which tune 
 T said my prayers. 
 
 Sunday, 19f/t. 
 
 Did not rise till 4ate 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 amused 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 ut 
 tered by millions of kindred tongues in our dear home. There was 
 something, too, impressive and touching in this momentary union of 
 
JOURNAL. 9 
 
 strangers, met but for a passing day, to part, perhaps, 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 wondrous tie of com 
 mon 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 im 
 ploring of blessings towards our native soil and its beloved ones left be- 
 hind. Oh, how I felt all this, as we spoke aloud that touching invo 
 cation, which is always one of my most earnest prayers, "Almighty 
 God, who hast promised when two or three are gathered together in 
 ihy name, "etc. * * * The bright cloudless 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 ! 
 
 * f * * * * 
 
 T is good to behold this new universe, this mighty sea which he hath 
 made, this glorious cloudless 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 
 lo-day, borne from the gulf stream; I longed to have it, for it told of 
 land : gulls too came wheeling about, and the little petterels 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 stretch 
 ed into ruddy streaks along the horizon, as his disk dipped into 
 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 
 
10 JOURNAL 
 
 fell like a cataract of rubies under the red sunlight. We sat there tiil 
 evening came down : the sea, from brilliant azure, grew black as 
 unknown things, the wind freshened, and \ve left our cold stand to 
 walk, or rather run, up and down the deck to warm ourselves. This 
 we continued till, one by one, the stars had lit their lamps in heaven : 
 their wondrous brilliancy, together with the Aurora Borealis, 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 \vere 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 encampment, where, by the light of a lantern, \ve supped and 
 
 sang sundry scraps of old songs. At ten came to bed. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Took an observation of the sun s altitude at noon, and saw 7 them hoist 
 a main-top-royal sail, which looked very pretty as it was unreefed against 
 the clear sky. 
 
 Monday, 20f/i. 
 
 Calm utter calm a roasting August sun, a waveless sea, the sails 
 Happing idly against the mast, and our black cradle rocking to and fro 
 without progressing a step. They lowered the boat, and went out row 
 ingI 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 
 I he 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 brig 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 
 
JOURNAL. 11 
 
 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 
 ihe evening danced merrily enough, quadrilles, country dances, La Bou- 
 langere, and themonaco; 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 reel 
 ing, 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 
 
 I) , 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 increasing 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 wo 
 men 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 direc- 
 lions but the one they purpose going, and making as many angles, 
 fetches, and sidelong deviations from the point 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 legitimate aims. Another horrible night ! oh horror ! 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 Wednesday, 22d. 
 
 A fair wind a line clay 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. Cur 
 tis 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 lo 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 hearings bustle in the dinner-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 community. The genuine 
 and spontaneous tribute lo moral worth and mental power ! Poor, poor 
 Sir Walter! And yet no prayer that can be breathed lo bless, no 
 grateful and soul -felt invocation, 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 vet- 
 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, 
 happiness, forgetfulness, to millions of his fellow-creatures; to have 
 made excellence lovely, and enjoyment pure and salutary; lo have 
 taught none but lessons of honour and integrity; to have sur 
 rounded his memory, and filled the minds of all men with images 
 fair, and bright, and wonderful, yet left around his name no halo, 
 and in the hearts of others no slightest cloud to blot these enchant 
 ing 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 
 
JOURNAL. 13 
 
 ipproval t is worth toiling for, living for, and dying for. He has earn 
 ed 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 surpassing uproar of Colo 
 nel . 
 
 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. 
 
 Thursday , 23d. 
 
 On soundings, and nearly off them again a Hue 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 (oo 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 er 
 rors 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 hu 
 man 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 him 
 self. Oli! 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 read 
 ing a chapter in the Corinthians about the resurrection. I mean to l>e 
 
 buried with II s ring on my finger; will it be there when I rise 
 
 ngain? What a question for the discussers of the needle s point contro 
 versy ! My father read to us, this afternoon, part of one of Webster s 
 
\k JOURNAL. 
 
 speeches. It was very eloquent, but yet it did not fulfil my idea of per 
 fect oratory inasmuch as I thought it too pictorial : there was loo 
 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 Webster 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, writing, 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 per 
 ceive its higher excellence : yet Milton was a sculptor, Shakspeare a 
 painter. How do we get through that? My reason for objecting 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 altogether 
 liking my father s reading t is slightly 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 " stranger," 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. Iwas 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, 24</i. 
 
 Rose late after a fair night s sleep came up to the round-house. 
 After breakfast, worked and 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 
 
JOURNAL 15 
 
 very heart. The vessel bore rapidly down upon us, but as there was 
 no prospect of either her or our lying-to, Mr. lied my missive, toge 
 ther 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 car 
 ried away, but she was going gallantly before the wind. As she passed 
 
 us, Mr. got up into the boat, to have a belter 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. Went and lay on the bowsprit, watching the 
 fair ship courtesying through the bright sea with all her sail set, a gal 
 lant 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 pas 
 sages he read to-day were finer than any I had heard before. He gels 
 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 bad a horrid sick 
 headach, walked on deck. The wind and sea were both rising; we 
 stood by the side of the ship, and watched the inky waters swelling lliem- 
 selves, and rolling su ; lenly 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 midnight, 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 courage to a game of spe 
 culation, I was obliged to leave it, and my companions. Came down 
 and went to bed. Oh horror ! loathsome life ! 
 
46 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 gather 
 ing 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, arid rode over the swell 
 ing 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, that every now and then lifted their overwhelming sides against 
 us, it would have made me melancholy : 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 t is 
 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 
 thusJa-a-a-a Ja-a-a-a fol- de-riddlecob ! 
 
 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. After dinner walked about 
 with H and the captain; we had seated ourselves on the ship s side, 
 
JOURNAL. tt 
 
 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 youn^r 
 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 mi 
 nute 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 cast 
 ing their wan lustre faintly 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! 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 ! silent nurse, that with thy solemn eyes 
 Hang sl o er the rocking cradle of the world, 
 Oh! be thou darker to my dreaming eyes, 
 $or, in my slumbers, be the past unfurlM. 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 Haunt me no more with whisperings from the dead, 
 The dead in heart, the changed, the withered : 
 Bring me no more sweet blossoms from rny spring, 
 "Which round rny 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 fts the grave, deep as forgetfulness ! 
 
 INight, thou shall nurse me, but be sure, good nurs< 
 "While sitting by my bed, that thou art silent; 
 I will not let thee sing me to my slumbers 
 With the sweet lullabies of former times, 
 Nor tell me tales, as olher gossips wont, 
 Of the strange fairy days, that are all gone. 
 
 Wednesday, 28f/<. 
 
 Skipped writing on Tuesday so much the better a miserable day 
 
 spent between heart-ach and side-ach. 
 
 *.* ...#.+ * 
 
 Rose late, breakfasted with H , afterwards went and sat on the 
 
 forecastle, where I worked the whole morning, woman s work, stitch 
 ing. 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 ajsharp, 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 earnest 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. * 
 
JOURNAL. 10 
 
 Finished my work, and then, tying on sundry veils and handkerchiefs, 
 danced on deck for some time ; I then walked about with , hy the 
 
 light of the prettiest young moon imaginable. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Afterwards sat working aiul 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 le 
 monade. At twelve went to bed ; the men kept up a horrible row on 
 deck half the night; singing, dancing, whooping, and running over our 
 heads. 
 
 * * * . Jf * 
 
 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, without its 
 having strength to struggle. I made a cage 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, 29f/i. 
 
 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 liitle 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 ! 
 
 * * * f * 
 
 I sat down stairs in my cabin all day j 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 pa 
 pers, 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 a short walk ; 
 .saw the sun set, which he did like a god, as he is, leaving the sky like 
 
20 JOURNAL. 
 
 a geranium curtain, which overshadowed the sea with rosy light beau 
 tiful ! Came down and sat on the floor like a Turkish woman, stitching, 
 singing, and talking, till midnight ; supped and to bed. My appetite 
 seems like the Danai des tub, of credible memory. 
 
 , 50f/i. 
 
 On soundings. A fog and a calm. Sky yellow, 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 Adven 
 tures of a Younger Son. The gentlemen amused themselves with fishing, 
 and brought up sundry hake and dog-fish. I examined 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. 
 
 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 burlhen 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, 
 
JOURNAL, 
 
 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- tool,- fur the dead? 
 
 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, 54 st. 
 
 Becalmed again till about two o clock, when a fair wind sprang up, 
 and we set lo 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 a round, boys, and having duly instructed Mr. 
 
 bow to "speak the speech," we went to supper. Last last dew, 
 
 what is there in that word ! I don t know one of this ship s company, 
 don t care for some of them I have led a loathsome life in it for a month 
 
22 JOURNAL 
 
 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 murder, will out; so I fancy that when 
 they drank the health of ihe 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 on land," by Mr. , the " canny Scot," who 
 
 has kept himself so quiet all the way. Came to bed at about half-past 
 twelve : while undressing , I heard the captain come down stairs, and 
 announce that we were clear of Nantucket shoal, and within one hun 
 dred 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. 
 We 11 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 11 drink those eyes that bright, boys, 
 
 With smiling ray, with smiling ray, 
 Have shone like stars to light, boys, 
 
 Our watery way, our watery way. 
 We 11 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. 
 
JOURNAL. 23 
 
 Sunday, September 2d. 
 
 Rose at half-past six: the sun was shining brilliantly j wokeH 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 hreeze, and curled into 
 ridges that came like emerald banks crowned with golden spray round 
 our ship j 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. 
 
 * * * X- * 
 
 Breakfasted at table for the first lime since I ve been on board the ship 
 I did hope, the last. After breakfast, put my things to rights, tidied 
 our cabin for prayers, and began looking out the lessons ; while doing so, 
 the joyful 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 commend 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 clear Mr. Thurstone s 
 on taking the sacrament. After prayers, came on deck; there were two 
 or three sails in sight hailed a schooner which passed us bad news of 
 llie 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 dinner, sat in my cabin some time 
 walked on deck ; when the gentlemen joined us, we danced the sun 
 
24 JOURNAL, 
 
 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 Hew 
 round our mizen-mast, and alighted on the top-sail yard; this was the 
 first living creature which welcomed us ta 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 Huddersfiekl 
 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 
 look 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 glo 
 rious 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 II , and we remained on deck watching the clouds like visions 
 
 of brightness and beauty, enchanted creations of some strange spell- 
 land at every moment assuming more fantastic shapes and gorgeous 
 tints. Dark rocks seemed to rise, with dazzling summits of light pale 
 lakes of purest blue spread here and there betweenthe 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 
 
JOURNAL. 25 
 
 had to thank Heaven for an incident. A brig had heen 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 w r as 
 given the men, porter to the captain and his companion. Our dear cap 
 tain supplied them with every thing they \vanted, and our poor steerage 
 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-favoured physio 
 gnomies I ever set eyes on, there was something refreshing even in their 
 ugly novelty. After this the whole day was one of continual excitement, 
 nearing the various points of land, greeting vessels 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, reports 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 entrance 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 was dancing like a fairy by the side of our dark vessel. 
 Cheering resounded on all sides, rockets w^re 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, 
 
2l> JOURNAL. 
 
 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 bump 
 ing 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 were going to bed, 
 when the genllenien 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 prosperity, 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; I hank 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 believe some of the pas 
 sengers had brought the fog and rain in their English clothes, which they 
 were all putting on, together with best hats, dandy cravats, etc. 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 former very beautiful ; the trees and grass were rather 
 
JOURNAL. 27 
 
 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 alongside 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 passen 
 gers 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 inmates, 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 w r ondering 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. 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 hackney 
 coach, and progressed. The houses are almost all painted glaring while 
 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 ns to our drawing-room. I had been chok 
 ing 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 restored my spirits. 
 I went on playing and singing 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 and pleasant, the table was laid in it. T is 
 curious how an acquaintanceship of thirty days has contrived 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 
 
2s JOURNAL. 
 
 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 adhesiveness is in them a real and heart-sprung 
 feeling. 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 fa 
 vourable 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 things were put on the table in a 
 slovenly outlandish 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 neatness 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 evening soft 
 ening and cooling under the serene influences of (he 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 silting 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 imma 
 terial existences. I heard him descant very tipsily upon (he vital prin 
 ciple, until my fatigue getting fairly the better of my affection for him, 
 I bade our remaining guests good night, and came to bed. 
 
Wednesday , StJt. 
 
 I have been in a sulky fit half the day, because people will keep 
 walking in and out of our room, without leave or license, 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. Colonel - - 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 o 
 
 the Custom-House, and W P , brother to the proprietor of the 
 
 Park theatre, who is a lawyer of considerable reputation 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 Ihe 
 
 H s and Mr. . At half-past three we walked down to the 
 
 quay to convoy them to their steam-boat, which looked indeed like a 
 "castle on the main. " We saw them on board, went down and looked 
 at the slate cabin, which was a magnificent room, and would have done 
 charmingly for a gallopade. We bade our new friends, whom I like 
 better than some old ones, good-by, and walked briskly on to the Bat 
 tery, 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 living illustration of Hood s " Long and Short" of it. We 
 gained the battery, and saw Ihe 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 parade, 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 informed me that this was a fashionable resort 
 
30 JOURNAL. 
 
 some lime 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 otherwise annoy the more respectable portion of the prome- 
 naders, 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 them 
 selves 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 themselves 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 probably bad specimens of the graces and 
 chams 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 {he 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 tho 
 rough melodrama, only the German monster has put on a red waistcoat 
 and top boots. Nalhless this is a good thing of a bad sort : the incidents, 
 though not all probable, or even as skilfully tacked together as they 
 might be, are striking and dramatically effective, and the w r liole piece 
 turns on those home feelings, those bitterest realities of e very-day life , 
 that wring one s heart, beyond the pain that one allows works of fiction 
 to excite. As for the imitation of Wilkie s pictures, the first was very 
 
JOURNAL. 31 
 
 pretty, but the 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 lu 
 
 played, a fine English yeoman : he reminded me of . At ihe end 
 
 of the play, came home with a tremendous headach : 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 expatiatinu 
 
 on the impertinence of people s not enquiring do\vn 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 
 
 Baltimore. He is a nice good-tempered young Irishman, with more 
 tongue than brains, but still clever enough : I am sorry he is going. 
 Came to bed-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 glorious 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 Dcvy squeezed 
 to a crush I pulled it out, rebowed, and reblonded, and reflowered it, 
 and now it looks good enough " pour les f/muvages, mamt/ielle Fannie." 
 Worked at my muslin gown; in short, did a deal. A cheating German 
 woman came here this morning with some bewitching canezous and 
 
32 JOURNAL. 
 
 pelerines : I chose two that I wanted, and one very pretty one that t 
 didn t ; but as she asked a heathen price for em, I took only the former; 
 dear good little me ! ( l ) 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 grateful to God, when we 
 look at these fair things?" and indeed, indeed, there is : yet these 
 tilings are not to me what they were. He told me that he had begun a 
 songon board ship for the last Saturday night, but that, not feeling well, 
 lie had given it up, but the very same ideas I had made use of had occurred 
 
 to him. * * - 
 
 ***** 
 
 This is not surprising; the ideas were so obvious 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 gossiping 
 
 till twelve o clock. My father has been introduced 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 
 or militia. Their omnibuses are vehicles of rank, and the Indies 
 
 ( ) I do not know how it is to be accounted for, but in spile of much lighter 
 duties, every article of dress, particularly silks, embroideries, and all French ma 
 nufactures, are more expensive here than in England. The extravagance of the 
 American women in this part of their expenditure is, considering the average 
 fortunes of this country, quite extraordinary. They never walk in the streets 
 but in the most showy and extreme toilet, and I have known twenty, forty, and 
 sixty dollars paid for a bonnet to wear in a morning saunter up Broadway. 
 
JOURNAL. 53 
 
 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 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 ils 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, tis a mere beau 
 ideal, totally incapable of realisation. What the world may be fil fur 
 six hundred years hence, I cannot exactly perceive ; but in the mean 
 time, t is my conviction that America will be a monarchy before I am a 
 skeleton. 
 
 One of the curses of living at an inn in this unceremonious land : 
 
 Dr. walked in this evening accompanied by a gentleman, whom he 
 
 forthwith introduced to us. I behaved very ill, as I always do on these 
 occasions ; but t is an impertinence, and I shall t-ake 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 into power, battle, pestilence, 
 and famine, would come upon the land : which prophecy finds its ac 
 complishment thus : they have had a war with the Indians, the cholera 
 has raged, and the people, flying 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 
 
 ( ) These are Ihe titles of three omnibuses which run up and down Broadway 
 all the day long. 
 
54 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 evening, 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, Tt/i. 
 
 Rose at eight : after breakfast tidied my dressing-box, mended and 
 tucked my white muslin gown wrote journal : while doing so, Colo 
 nel 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 w r ord down that my father was out, knowing no such per 
 son, and supposing the waiter had mistaken whom he asked for; but the 
 gentleman persisted in seeing me, and presently in walked a good-look 
 ing 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, in 
 fluence, and consideration. He had been a great auctioneer, but had 
 retired from business, having, among his other honours, filled the of 
 fice 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; af 
 ter 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 moonlight. That Town Hall is a white- washed anomaly, and yet 
 its effect is not altogether bad. I look a bath at the house behind it, 
 which is very conveniently 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 
 
JOURNAL. 35 
 
 a foreigner I knew it. My father proposed to us a walk, and we ac 
 cordingly sallied forth. We walked to the end of Broadway, a dis 
 tance of two miles, I should think, and then hack 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 walking 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 Christian 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 tempta 
 tions to look around, but the flags were so horribly broken and out of 
 order, 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 frequent the streets there being very inconsidera 
 ble, 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, 
 look the cigar from their mouth, which I thought especially courteous. ( 2 ) 
 
 ( ) The New Yorkers have begun to see the evil of their ways, as far as re 
 gards 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 com 
 passion on the feet of their fellow-citizens, as they have begun to have for their 
 brutes. 
 
 ( 3 ) The roughness and want of refinement, which is legitimately complained 
 of in this country is often however mitigated by instances of civility, which would 
 not be found commonly elsewhere. As I have noticed above, the demeanour 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, 
 
36 JOURX&L. 
 
 Tliey were all smoking, to a man, except Ihose who were spilling, 
 which helped to remind me of Paris, to which the whole place bore a 
 slight resemblance. The shops appear lo me to make no show what 
 ever, 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 Sth. 
 
 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; I like him; he 
 
 appears very intelligent; and the expression of his countenance is clever 
 and agreeable. His daughter was dressed up in French clothes, and 
 looked very stiff; but, however, a first visit is an awkward thing, and 
 nothing that is n t thorough-bred ever does it quite well. When they 
 
 were gone, Mr. called. By the by, of Mr. , while he was 
 
 speaking, he c*ime to the word calculate, and stopping half way, sub 
 stituted 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 louche point ne nous fait pas rougir." 
 
 Worked till dinner-time. dined with us : what a handsome 
 
 man he is; but oh, what a within-and-without actor ! I wonder whe 
 ther 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 ceaseless striving at effect, a straining after points in talking, 
 
 Philadelphia, or Boston : on hoard the steam-hoats no person sits down to table 
 until the ladies are accommodated with seats ; and I have myself in church be- 
 nefited by the civility of men who have left their pew, and stood, during lift 
 whole service, in order to afford me room. 
 
JOURNAL 37 
 
 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 wel 
 come ; but good Heaven defend me from the genteel version of vulgarity ! 
 to see which in perfection, a country actor, particularly if he is also ma 
 nager, and sees occasionally people who bespeak 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 journal, and now to bed. I m dead of theside- 
 ach. ( ) 
 
 Sunday, 9th. 
 
 Rose at eight. While I was dressing, D went out of the room, 
 
 and presently I heard sundry exclamations : " Good God, is it you ! 
 How are you? How have you been ?" I opined the door, and saw my 
 uncle. * * * * 
 
 After breakfast, went to church with my father : on our way thither 
 ward met the Doctor, and the Doctor s friend, and Mr. , to whom 
 
 I have taken ah especial fancy. The church we went to is situated half 
 way between the Battery and our hotel. It is like a chapel in the exte 
 rior, being quite plain, and standing close in among the houses; the in 
 terior 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 Chester 
 field s maxim be a good one in all cases, which it is, surely in the matter 
 of the service of God s house tis doubly so; they lose an immense ad 
 vantage, 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 solemnly, de- 
 
 ( ) Saw a woman riding to-day; but she has gotten a black velvet beret 
 upon her head. Only thiuk of a beret on horseback! The horses here 
 are none of Ihem 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 decent rider, either man or woman. 
 
3S JOURNAL. 
 
 voutly, 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 congre 
 gation were as neglectful of the directions in the prayer-hook, and as 
 indolent and remiss in uttering the responses, as they are in our own 
 churches; indeed, the ahsence of the clerk made the inaudibility of the 
 congregation s portion of the service more palpable than it is with us. 
 The organ and chanting were very good ; infinitely superior to the per 
 formances of those blessed little parish cherubim, who monopolise 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, etc., 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 those, 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, prosperity, therefore they say, 
 " In all time of our prosperity (i. e. wealth), in all time of our tribula 
 tion," etc. I wonder how these gentlemen interpret the word common 
 wealth, or whether, in the course of their reading, they ever met w r ith 
 the word deprived of the final th ; and if so, what they imagined it 
 meant. ( ) Our prayers were desired 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, 
 
 ( T ) The spirit of independence, which is the common atmospheric air of Ame 
 rica, penetrates into the churches, as well as elsewhere. In Boston,! have heard 
 the Apostles Creed mutilated and altered; once by the omission of the passage 
 " descended into hell," and another time, hy the substitution of the words " de 
 scended into the place of departed spirits." 
 
JOURNAL 39 
 
 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 gen 
 tleman, 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-tempered, turnippy-looking 
 man, who called me a female; and who, the other assured me, was the 
 Chesterfieldian of New York (I don t know precisely what that means) : 
 what fun! Again I had an opportunity of perceiving how thorough a 
 chimera the equality is, that we talk of as American. "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 in 
 herent 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 long time. 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 educate the people, ( ) for which purpose a provision is made 
 by government. Thus : a grant of land is given, the revenue of which 
 being estimated, the population of the State are taxed to precisely the 
 same amount ; thus furnishing, between the government and the people, 
 
 ( ) Unfortunately this precaution does not fulfil its purpose; universal suffrage 
 is a political fallacy : and will be one of the stumbling-blocks in the path of this 
 country s greatness. I do not mean that it will lessen her wealth, or injure her 
 commercial and financial resources; but it will be an insuperable bar to the pro 
 gress of mental and intellectual cultivation tis a plain case of action and re 
 action. If the mass, i. e. the inferior portion, (for when was the mass not infe 
 rior?) 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 en 
 larged, liberal, and highly enlightened, I do not, and cannot, believe. 
 
40 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 oppo 
 site our windows) in so very pretty, and the streets so gay, with their 
 throngs of smartly-dressed women, and so amusing with their abundant 
 proportion of black and white caricatures, that I find my window the 
 most entertaining station in the world. Read Salmonia the natural- 
 history part of it is curious and interesting ; but the local descriptions 
 are beyond measure tantalising ; and the "bites," live 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 discrimination, 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 parading up and down ; most of them in the 
 height of the fashion, with every colour in the rainbow about them. 
 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 contrast of a bright blue or pink crape 
 bonnet, with the black face, white teeth, and glaring blue whites of the 
 eyes, is beyond description grotesque. 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 mat 
 ters conducive to the comfort and elegance of life : they go into these 
 countries; into France, into our own dear litle snuggery, from whence 
 
 ( ) I do not know whether his honour the Recorder s information applied only 
 to the state of New York, or included all the others; t is not one of the least 
 Grange features which this strange political process, the American government, 
 presents, that each state is governed by its own laws; thus forming a most in 
 volved and complicated v>hole, where each parl has its own individual machinery; 
 or, to use a more celestial phraseology, its own particular system. 
 
JOURNAL. it 
 
 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 uncomfortable vehicles swinging through the streets, and 
 thinkof the beauty, the comfort, the strength, and lightness of our Eng 
 lish-built carriages and cabs, I am much surprised at the want of emu 
 lation and enterprise, which can be satisfied with inferiority, when equa 
 lity, if not superiority, would be so easy. ( T ) At seven o clock, D and 
 
 I 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 shouting children; this is about 
 the sixth fire since yesterday evening. They are so frequent here, that 
 the cry " Fire, fire ! " seems to excite neither alarm nor curiosity, and 
 except the above-mentioned pains-taking juveniles, none of the inhabitants 
 seem in the least disturbed by it. (*) We prosecuted our walk clown to 
 the Battery, but just as we reached it we had to return, as t was lea-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, which was once a fort from whence the Americans 
 iired 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 
 ihe water. The whole effect was pretly, and very Parisian. We came 
 
 () Whoever pretends to write any account of "Men and Manners" in Ame- 
 ica 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 i:o\v 
 two or three carriages of decent build, with hammercloths, foot-boards, and even 
 once or twice lately I have seen footmen standing on those foot-boards ! ! ! 
 
 ( 2 ) 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 son?, who enlist in this service, rather than the mi 
 litia; and the vigilance and activity with which their duty is discharged deserves 
 the highest praise. 
 
42 JOURNAL. 
 
 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, hut be 
 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, \Qth. 
 Rose at eight. After breakfast wrote journal, and practised for an 
 
 hour. called. I remember 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 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 ail De StaeTs sayings, and By 
 ron 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 ap 
 pears 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 good 
 ness, 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 Ihe darkness, and he should walk in 
 peace and faith over the stormy waters, and through the uncertain 
 night; standing as twere above the earth, he views with clearer eyes 
 its mysteries ; he finds in apparent discord glorious "harmony, and lo 
 him the sum of all is good ; for, in God s works, good still abounds to 
 
JOURNAL. 7i3 
 
 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 he, 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 confined to local allusions and descriptions of New- 
 York manners, 1 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 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 furni 
 ture 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 
 \ isiter, leaving us to the mercy of a very pretty young lady, who car 
 ried on the conversation at an average of a word every three minutes. 
 Neither Mr. nor his eldest daughter were at home; the latter, how 
 ever, 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 prac 
 tised 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 rocket* 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, seemed to sink away 
 before the steadfast shining of the moon, who held high supremacy in 
 
44 JOURNAL. 
 
 heaven. The bay lay like molten silver under her light, and every now 
 and then a tiny skiff, emerging from the shade, crossed Ihe 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, industrious little me. 
 
 Tuesday, \\tli. 
 
 This day week we landed in New York; and this day was its proto 
 type, 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 practised 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 expect- 
 aiions of bad weather disappointed?) nathless, my father, at the Colo 
 nel s instigation, persevered, and went forth, leaving me his card of in 
 vitation, which made me scream for half an hour; Ihe wording as 
 follows : " Sir, the Hoboken Turtle Club will meet at the grove, for 
 spoon exercise, on Tuesday, the M(h inst., by order of the President." 
 
 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 the 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-dress 
 er, 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 difficulte nest pas d executervotre coiffure, mais 
 de la lien concevoir." 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 
 
 icte-a-telej the evening was sulky I was in miserable spirits. 
 
 * * * * * > 
 
 Sat working till my father came home, which he did at about half 
 
JOURNAL. 45 
 
 past six. His account of his dinner was any thing but delightful ; to be 
 sure he has no taste for rainy ruralilies, and his feeling description of 
 the damp ground, damp trees, damp clothes, and damp atmosphere, 
 gave me the rheumatic, letting alone that they had nothing to eat but 
 turtle, and that out of iron spoons. " Ah, you vi 11 go a pleasur 
 ing." 
 
 * * + * * 
 
 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 embroidered till 
 midnight. The wind is rioting over the earlh. I should like to see 
 ihe Hudson now. The black clouds, like masses of dark hair, are 
 driven over the moon s pale face; the red lights and (ire engines are 
 dancing up and down j the streets, the church bells are all (oiling 
 t is sadandslrange. 
 
 T is all in vain, it may not last, 
 The sickly sunlight dies away, 
 And ihe thick clouds that veil the past 
 Roll darkly o er my present day. 
 
 Have I not flung Ihem off, and striven 
 To seek some dawning hope in vain? 
 Have I not been for ever driven 
 Back to the bitter past again ? 
 
 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. 
 
 Oil 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 sirive no more, 
 To win from pain my joyless breast ; 
 Sorrow has plough d too deeply o er 
 Life s Eden let it take the rest ! 
 
46 JOURNAL. 
 
 Wednesday, \2th. 
 
 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 
 
 conception 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 7 the right deduction. Gloomy, desponding, 
 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 earlh and life, to those of death and the mysterious land 
 beyond it ; weary of existence upon its very threshold, and withheld 
 alone from self-destruction by religious awe, and that pervading uncer 
 tainty 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 enlireness 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 Hamlet 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; double 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 fulfilment, 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 unseat 
 a stronger mind,, he finds relief in fits of desponding musing, the 
 
JOURNAL. kl 
 
 exhaustion of overwrought powers. Then comes the vigilant and cir 
 cumspect 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 
 surround him, authorised by his knowledge of his uncle s nature : his 
 constant watchfulness over the spies that are set to walch him; then 
 come, in the course of events, Polonius s death, the unintentional work 
 of his own sword, the second apparition of his father s ghost, his banish 
 ment 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 metaphy 
 sicaland the nature he acquires from the tutelage of events, bitter, 
 dark, amazed, and uncertain; if these do not make upas complete a 
 madman as ever walked between heaven and earth, I know not what 
 does.( ) Wrote journal, and bigan to praciise; while doing so, call 
 ed ; 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 ihe 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 walk 
 ed, four as fine-grown men as yon 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 , " inhem 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, be 
 haved very 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 canio in Dante, 
 and translated verbatim a German fable, which kept me till dinner-time. 
 
 ( ) I have lately read Goethe s Wilhelm Meister. In that wonderful analysis of 
 ihe 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 appropriate and beautiful si 
 mile, wherein Hamlet s mind is likened to an acorn planted in a porcelain vase 
 
 the seed becomes living ihe roots expand ^nd the fragile vessel bursts into a 
 thousand shivers! 
 
6S JOURNAL. 
 
 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 eyes 
 of the New York promenaders, lo 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 lo see 
 
 any of our fellow-passengers, however little such society would have 
 pleased me under any other circumstances; but necessity "makes us 
 acquainted witli strange bed fellows; "and these my ship-mates will, to the 
 end of time, be my very good friends and boon companions. My father 
 went to the Park theatre, to see a man of the name of Hacket give an 
 American entertainment after Malthews s at-home fashion. I would not 
 0, 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, ar.d all for a wreath of English fog steal 
 ing over the \vater. 
 
JOURNAL 49 
 
 Thursday, 
 
 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 slarlled 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 (he 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 feel 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 vt r- 
 
 ( ) The fish of these waters may be excellent in the water; but owing to the 
 want of eare and iiiceness 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, fright 
 ful to behold, and not particularly well-flavoured : their size makes them tough 
 and coarse. 
 
 3 
 
50 JOURNAL. 
 
 milion 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, ihe wild grapes, the pears, and apples, all so plenteous, so 
 fragrant, so heautiful 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, anil my father proposed 
 crossing the river to Hoboken, 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 horseback, 
 gigs, carriages, carts, any thing and every thing. The day was lovely 
 the broad bright river was gemmed with 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, or rather strip of wood, I should say, for tis 
 nature s own gardening which crowns the high bank of the river; 
 through which trellis- work of varied foliage we caught exquisite 
 glimpse* of the glorious waters, the glittering city, and the opposite 
 banks, d eked out in al 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 ca- 
 talpa, and the hickory with its bright coral-coloured berries. Many lovely 
 lowly things, too, grew 7 by our pathside, which we gathered as we 
 passed, to bring away, but which withered in our hands ere we returned. 
 Gorgeous butterflies were zig-zagg,ng 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 present y jumped out again, on hearing the 
 
JOURNAL. 51 
 
 swarms of grasshoppers round me. Mr. caught one ; it was larger 
 
 and thicker than the English grasshopper, and of a dim mottled brown 
 colour, like the plumage of our common moth; but presently, 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 mowing; 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 wilh 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 suppose it was not yet the appointed day of the 
 month wilh them for eating their dinner within walls; and, raiher than 
 infringe on an established 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 lo 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 beautifully encircled wilh waving forests, a shaifr 
 
 in summer and a shelter in winter. My father, D , and my bonne! 
 
 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 exclaimed, pointing to the highlands on our left. 
 
52 JOURNAL. 
 
 through whose rich foliage the rifted granite looked cold and grey, 
 " what a place lor a scramble ! there must be lovely walks there." u Ay," 
 returned my companion, " and a few rattle-snakes loo." ( ) 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 sweet 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 Oatkmds which, from its wild and tangled woodland, they call 
 
 America. 
 
 ***** 
 
 There must have been something surpassingly beautiful in our surround 
 ings, for even Mr. , in;o 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 
 Bed Children of the soil, who followed the chase through these lovely 
 wildernesses, and drove their light canoes over these broad streams 
 " great nature s happy commoners," till the predestined curse came ou 
 them, till the white sails of the invaders 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 dispensations of Providence. 
 
 The chasing, enslaving , and destroying creatures, whose existence, 
 however inferior, is as justly theirs as that of the most refined Euro 
 pean is his; who for the most part, too, receive their enemies with 
 open-handed hospitality, uniil 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 
 
 ( ) My friend was entertaining himself, at the expense of my credulity, in 
 making this assertion. The rattle-snakes and red Indians have fled together be 
 fore 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 stales. 
 
JOURNAL. 33 
 
 which have ever followed the landing of civilised men upon uncivilised 
 shores; in short, the theory and practice of discovery and conquest, as 
 recorded in all history, is a very singular and painful subject of contem 
 plation. 
 
 T is true that cultivation and civilisation, the arts and sciences that 
 render life useful, the knowledge 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 follow 
 ing a hurricane, succeed the devastation of the invader ; but the suffer 
 ings of those who are swept away are not the less ; and though I be 
 lieve 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 
 Ihis fine country, could wish it again unlenanted of its enterprising and 
 industrious possessors- yet even while looking with admiration at all 
 that they have achieved, with expectation amounting to certainly 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 si 
 lent wildernesses, where sprang and fell the forest leaves, where ebbed 
 and flowed the ocean tides from day to day, and from year to year, in unin 
 terrupted stillness; where the great sun, who looked on ihe vast em 
 pires of the East, its mouldering kingdoms, its lordly palaces, its ancient 
 temples, its swarming cities, cameand looked down upon the still dwell 
 ing of utter loneliness, where nature sat enthroned in everk sling 
 beauty, undisturbed by the far off-din of worlds " beyond the flood. "( ) 
 
 Game home rather tired : my father asked Mr. to dine with us, 
 
 but he could not. After dinner, sat working till ten o clock, when 
 
 (i) It is two years since I visited lloboken 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 carriage- 
 road along th? water s edge (for which the ground lies very favourably) to make 
 
54 JOURNAL. 
 
 came to take leave of us. He is going off to-morrow morning to Philadel 
 phia, 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. 
 
 Friday, \4th. 
 
 Forget all about it, except that I went about the town with Colo 
 
 nel . 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 went to see his Quaker wife, whom I liked very much. 
 
 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 Hobokcn. It 
 in the one, the toil, the care, the labour of mind and body, the outward and vi 
 sible 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 of society in this country 
 as yesterday returning from Hoboken. 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, tradespeople, with their fa- 
 milies, bearing all in their dress and looks evident signs of well-being and con 
 tentment, were all flocking from their confined avocations, into tLe 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 holiday, 
 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 confin 
 ed, incessant, unhealthy toil to earn, at its conclusion, the inadequate reward 
 of health and happiness so wasted. The contrast struck me forcibly it re 
 joiced my heart; it surely was an object of contemplation, that any one who had 
 
JOURNAL 55 
 
 *,**.<. 
 
 Drove all about New-York, which more than ever reminded me of the 
 towns in France : passed the Bowery theatre , which is a handsome 
 finely-proportioned 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 Colo 
 nel called an old mansion ; mercy on me, him, and it ! Old ! I 
 
 thought of Warwick Castle, of Hatfield, of Chequers, of Hopwood old ! 
 and there it stood, with its white pillars and Italian-looking portico, for 
 
 a heart mus! 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 myself, 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 and 
 cultivated; can I be satisfied with a race in a circular railroad 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 
 not. The heart of a philanthropist may indeed be satisfied, but the intellectual 
 man feels a dearth that is inexpressibly 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 it 
 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 portion of their inhabitants, would be 
 very angry if one were to say it was a very inconsiderable one, and yet that is 
 the truth. 
 
56 JOURNAL. 
 
 all the world like one of our own cit s yesterday-grown boxes. Old, 
 quotha! the woods and waters and hills and skie.s 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, foretelling 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 wi.hout comparing this their sapling to the giant, 
 oaks of the old world, and what can one say to that? 7s^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 ihe evening to see Wallack act the Brigand ; it was his be 
 nefit, 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, 
 
 Sat stitching all the blessed day. So we are to go to Philadelphia be 
 fore Boston. I m sorry. The II --- s will be disappointed, and I shall 
 get no riding, che seccatura! At five dressed, and went to the -- , 
 where we were to dine. This is one of the first houses here, so I conclude 
 that lam to consider what I see as a tolerable sample of the ways and 
 manners of being, doing, and suffering of the lest 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 (bread net handkerchiefs and capes; the 
 whole of which, to my English eye, appeared a strange marrying of in 
 congruities. 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, 
 
JOURNAL. 57 
 
 and decay proportionally soon. They arc, generally speaking, pretty, 
 with good complexions, and an air of freshness and brilliancy, 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 period 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 loo 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 petticoat, and " de quoi " of every sort, to guess any 
 thing more. 
 
 There was a Mr. , the Magnus Apollo of New York, who is a mu 
 sical genius : sings as well as any gentleman needsing, pronounces Italian 
 well, and accompanies himself without false chords; all which renders 
 
 him the man round whom ( as round II , G , Lord C , and 
 
 that pretty Lord O , in our own country) the women listen and lan 
 guish. 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 hang 
 ing over him, Mrs. N , and Mrs. B . By the by, the man who 
 
 sat next me at dinner was asking ine all manner of questions about 
 
 Mrs. N : among others, whether 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 were not half servants enough, and we had 
 neither water-glasses nor finger-glasses. Now, though I don t eat with 
 
 ( ) 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 arc 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. 
 
5S JOURNAL. 
 
 my fingers (except peaches, whereat I think the aborigines, who were 
 paring theirs like so many potatoes, seemed raiher amazed), yet do I 
 hold a iinger-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 
 
 liltle amused at Mrs. asking me whelher I had heard of his singing, 
 
 or their musical soirees, and seeming all but surprised that I had no re 
 velations 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 travelling. Mr. B , who is an English 
 man, happened to ask me if I knew Captain , whereupon we imme 
 diately struck up a conversation, 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 whom 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, becurtained 
 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 
 
 f he ) at supper. He said thai, besides five being a great deal too 
 
 early to dine, he had not half dinner enough; and then began the 
 regular English quizzing of every thing and every body we had left 
 behind. Oh dear, oh dear ! how 7 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 scalterings 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. 
 
JOURXAL 59 
 
 Sunday, \6th. 
 
 Rose at eight. After breakfast, walked to church with the C s 
 
 and Mr. B . They went to Grace Church for the music ; we 
 
 slopped 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 liound to 
 accept the invitation. The sermon was tolerably good ; better than the 
 average sermons one hears in London, and sufficiently well delivered. 
 
 After church, 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 
 
 II , which kept me pen in hand till past twelve. A tremendous 
 
 thunderstorm came on, which lasted from nine o clock till past two in 
 the morning : I never saw b;it one such in my life ; and that was our 
 memorable Weybridge storm, which only exceeded this in the circum 
 stance of my having seen a thunderbolt fall during that paroxysm of 
 the elements. But this was very glorious, awful, beautiful, and tre 
 mendous. 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 universe 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 in 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 wa> 
 too intense even upon the ground to be looked at with unshaded eyes), 
 gazing at this fierce holiday of the elements at the mad lightning 
 
60 JOURNAL. 
 
 at the brilliant shower, through which the flashes shone like daylight 
 listening lo the huge thunder, as its voice resounded, and ils 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 goodness made the ministers of good lo this 
 our lowly dwelling-place. I did not go to bed till two ; the storm con 
 tinued to rage long after that. 
 
 Monday, With. 
 
 Rose at eight. At twelve, went to rehearsal. The weather is into 
 lerable; I am in a state of perpetual 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 re 
 hearse by candlelight. Thatwashed-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 lo buy some 
 gauze : the shopmen 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 atten 
 tion, and render my Ftay in this country agreeable. A Christian, I sup 
 pose, would have met these benevolent advances with an infinitude of 
 thankfulness, and an outpouring of grateful pleasure ; but for my own 
 part, though Iliad 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 wilh 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 thea 
 tre. 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 
 jiere calls an immense reception; but they should see our London an* 
 
JOURNAL. 61 
 
 dience 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, 
 " 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, together with a variety 
 that relieves the intense study of the whole with wonderful effect. 
 
 [ think that it is impossible to conceive Hamlet 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 be 
 ginning to end, are most lovely; andsome of the slighter passages, which, 
 like fine tints to the incapable eyes of blindness, must always pass unno 
 ticed, and, of course, utterly uncomprehencled, 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. 
 
 ****+ 
 
 2 * * * * 
 
 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, *8th. 
 
 l\ose 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 the 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 wasi.t 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 judg 
 ment 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 sued ss to affect me in the least, and therefore I 
 
62 JOURXAL 
 
 feel neither nervous nor anxious about it. We dined at three : after 
 dinner, j came ; he sat some lime. When he was gone, I came into 
 the drawing-room, and found a man sitting with my father, who pre 
 sented him to me by some inaudible name. I sat down, and the gentle 
 man pursued his conversation as follows : " When Clara Fisher came 
 over, Barry wrote to me about her, and I wrote him back word : My 
 dear ft-llow, if your bella donna is such as you describe, why, we 11 see 
 what we can do; we will lake her by the hand. " This was enough for 
 me. I jumped up, and ran out of the room; because a newspaper writer 
 is my aversion. At half-past six, went to the ihealre. They acled the 
 farce of Popping the Question first, in order, I suppose, to get the people 
 to their places before the play began. Poor Mr. Keppel was gasping 
 for breath ; he moved my compassion infinitely; I consoled and comforl- 
 ed 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 curtain. Owing to the position in which I was silting, 
 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 slock still, looked at me, and then at the audience, 
 whereupon the latler 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 ! here, 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 {<> 
 take the word, and made a complete 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 toprompl my Fazio, frightened by his fright, annoyed by his 
 forgelting his crossings and positions, 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 lo move a little more freely, gathered 
 up my strength, and set to work comfortably by myself; whereupon, the 
 people applauded, I warmed (warmed, quotha! the air was steam), and 
 got through very satisfactorily, al least so it seems. My dresses were 
 very beautiful ; but oh, but oh , the musquitoes had made dreadful havoc 
 
JOURNAL. 63 
 
 with my arms, which were covered with hills as large and red as Vesu 
 vius 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. Game home, supped. 
 
 Game to bed at half past twelve 5 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 cantan 
 kerous stinging things, the musquitoes. 
 
 Wednesday, Wtli. 
 
 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 Rorneo 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 
 l^e accordingly did, and was playing most delightfully, when in walked 
 
 Mr. -, and by and by Colonel , with his honour the Recorder, 
 
 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 II can t come from Philadelphia for our dinner dear, 
 
 I m quite sorry! At five our party assembled; w r e 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. 
 
 * * * * 4- 
 
 We left the table soon; came aud wrote journal. When the gen 
 tlemen joined us, they were all more or less "howcom d you so indeed?" 
 
 Mr. and Mr. particularly. They put me down to the piano, 
 
 and once or twice I thought I must h .ve screamed. On one side ri- 
 
6/1 JOURNAL. 
 
 brated dear Mr. , threatening my new gown wilh 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 dis:or- 
 dant 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 
 lime, and flourishing somewhat luxuriantly, still retained enough of his 
 right senses to discriminate between Mr. s yelps and singing, pro 
 perly so called; and accordingly 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. 
 
 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, 20f/t. 
 
 Rose at eight. After breakfast, went to rehearse Romeo and Juliet. 
 Poor Mr. Keppel is fairly laid on the shelf; I m 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 ;igain 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 I m sincerely sorry for him. A t 
 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; " he speaks small, loo, 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. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 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 
 
JOURNAL 65 
 
 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 hesitation, 
 u 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 gown 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. 
 
 Friday, 24 St. 
 
 Rose at eight. After breakfast went to rehearsal. 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 stran 
 gers to me. After dinner, 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 lime throwing out sundry 
 
 3. 
 
66 JOURNAL. 
 
 hints, which seem aimed our way, of injustice, oppression, hard usage, 
 
 and the reston 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 
 
 regiment 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 dramatic situa 
 tions 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, thai I should think it must be for the most part in 
 comprehensible 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 
 thatworihy s letter to the puhlic, " I shall certainly inquire of Mr. Keppel 
 
 why he has so used my name;" to 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 loo much for mortal 
 woman to bear. I immediately said, "Not at all: it is my father s 
 affair, if any body s; and he alone has the right to demand any expla 
 nation, or make any observation on the subject; and were I he, I cer 
 tainly 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 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 
 
JOURNAL. 67 
 
 critical freedom, which, together with the established nil admirariot the 
 press, seems to keep them in a constant dread of being thought enthu 
 siastic. They need not be afraid : enthusiasm may l;elong to such ana 
 lyses as SchlegePs 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, L 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 clown 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 occasionally not to do. 
 
 Saturday, 22</. 
 
 Hose 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, wiih whom I have hitherto had to deal, are either condescend 
 ingly familiar, or insolently indifferent in their manner. Your washer 
 woman 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 I thought 
 
 ( ) 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 
 comfortable within, and clean without ; and the horses harnessed to them never 
 exhibit (hose shocking specimens of cruelty and ill usage which the poor hack 
 horses in London present. 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 inslanee of brutality towards animals, such as 
 one is compelled to witness hourly in the streets of any English town. 
 
68 JOURNAL. 
 
 I would go out of the shop; but recollecting that I should probably only 
 go farther and fare worse, I gulped, sat down, and was measured. All 
 this is had : it has iis origin in a vulgar misapprehension, which confounds 
 ill-breeding with independence, and leads people to fancy that they elevate 
 themselves above their condition by discharging its duties and obligations 
 discourteously. ( ) * * * * 
 
 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 sufficiently clever, with an abundance of 
 goodness, and liberal benevolent feeling shining through it. We retired 
 
 lo 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 : " D ye play?" pointing to an open 
 
 piano-forte. Mrs. replied that she did so sometimes ; whereupon 
 
 the free-and-easy landlady ordered candles, and added, u Come, sit 
 down and give us a tune, then;" to which courteous and becoming in 
 vitation 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 : 
 
 ( ) There isa striking difference in this respect between the tradespeople of New 
 York and those of Boston and Philadelphia; and in my opinion the latler 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 independence, assumes a station in the first circle, where his influ 
 ence becomes commensurate with his wealth. This is not the case either in Bos 
 ton or Philadelphia, at least not to the same degree. 
 
JOURNAL. 69 
 
 u Lord ! why I didn t know you wanted it." 
 
 u I tell you, I wish to have it back." 
 
 " Oh, pooh ! you can t want it much, now do you ?" 
 
 u I tell you, sir, I desire to have the die hack immediately." 
 
 " Ah well, come now, what 11 you lake for it?" 
 
 u 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, 23t/. 
 
 Rose at eight. After breakfast, went to church with D . There 
 
 is no such thing, I perceive, as a pew-opener; so, after standing suffi 
 ciently long in the middle of the church, we established ourselves very 
 comfortably in a pew, where we remained unmolested. The day was 
 most lovely, and my eyes were constantly attracted to the church win 
 dows, 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, 
 
 loo : he wants sternness; but that is my particular fancy about a clergy 
 man, and by most people would be accounted no want. It was not sa 
 crament Sunday D was disappointed ; and I mistaken. Mr. 
 
 walked home with us. After church, wrote journal. called, and 
 
 sat with us during dinner, telling us stories of the flogging 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 musclein my body with 
 
70 JOURNAL. 
 
 positive rage and indignation : he made me perfectly sick with it. When 
 
 he was gone, my father went to Colonel s. I played all through 
 
 Mr. sedition of Cinderella, and then wrote three long letters, which 
 
 kept me up till nearly one o clock. Oh, bugs, fleas, flies, ants, and mus- 
 quiloes, great is the misery yon inflict upon me ! I sit slapping my own 
 face all day, and lie thumping my pillow all night : t is a perfect nuisance 
 to be devoured of creatures before one s in the ground; it is n t fair. 
 
 Wrote to Mr. , to ask if he would ride with me on Tuesday. I am 
 
 dying to be on horseback again. * 
 
 Monday, 24 f/*. 
 
 Rose at eight : went and took a bath. After breakfast, went to rehear 
 sal : Venice Preserved, with Mr. Keppel, who did not appear to me to 
 know the words even, and seemed perfectly bewilderedat beingasked 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 riling 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 applause. When 
 
 I went on, I was all but tumbling down at the sight of my Jaffier, who 
 looked like 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 s de (and that was seldom), he stood 
 three yards behind me; he did nothing but seize my hand, and grapple 
 to it so hard, that unless I had knocked him down (which I felt much 
 inclined to try), I could 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 dag 
 ger 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 
 
JOURNAL. 7J 
 
 from me when he said " farewell for ever, " he stuck to my skirls, 
 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 f/o. f " When 
 I exclaimed, " Not one kiss at parting," he kept embracing and kissing 
 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 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 expe 
 rienced 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 determination 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, 
 / 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 drag 
 ging me off the stage ; in consequence of which I had to scream, " Jaffier, 
 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 vehemently : 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 slay 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 last appeared a 
 
 ( ) The universal hour of dining, in New York, when first we arrived , was 
 three o clock; after whirl) hour the eooks took their departure, and nothing was 
 
52 JOURNAL. 
 
 cold boiled fowl, and some monstrous oysters, that looked for all the world 
 like an antediluvian race of oysters, " for in those days there were 
 giants." Six moulhfuls each : they were well-flavoured ; but their size 
 displeased my eye, and I swallowed but one, and came to bed. 
 
 Friday, 28f/i. 
 A letter from England, the first from dear -- . D -- brought it me 
 
 while I was dressing, and oh, how welcome, how welcome it was ! 
 
 f * * * 
 
 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. 
 
 Mr. -- called, and sat with us till six o clock. 
 
 * 
 
 I constantly sit thunderstruck at the amazing number of unceremonious 
 
 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 exellence may be imagined from that. 
 To say the truth, I think the system upon which all houses of public entertain 
 ment 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 exceptions 1 
 could name to these \arious inconveniences are, first, Mr. Cozzen s establishment 
 at West Point; next, the Tremont at Boston, and, lastly, the Mansion House at 
 Philadelphia. In each of these, wayfarers may obtain some portion of decent 
 comfort : but they have their drawbacks ; in the first, there are no private sitting- 
 rooms; and in the last, the number of servants is inadequate to the work. The 
 
 Tremont isbyfarthebestestablishmentofthesortexistingatpresent. Mr. A , 
 
 the millionnaire of New York, is about to remedy this deficiency, by the erection 
 of a magnificent hotel in Broadway. One thing, however, is certain ; neither he 
 nor any one else will ever succeed in having a decent 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 73 
 
 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 Ihe first time ; they did not, however, 
 but in the mean time thinned our house. 
 
 I would give the world to see Mr. directing the public taste, by 
 
 an ffiillade, and leading the public approbation, by a gracious lapping 
 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 gentlemen, 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 him matter of astonishment when he re 
 turns. Swallow 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 " observed of all observers," is 
 
 become a red-faced fat old man. " Och, Time ! can t ye be aisy 
 now ! " 
 
 Sunday, 5Qth. 
 
 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 espistles 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 t6te-a-tte. After 
 
 dinner, sat writing letters for Mr. s bag till ten o clock : came to my 
 
 own room, undressed, and began a volume to dear . 
 
Ik JOURNAL 
 
 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, 
 
 adinfinnitum, . ad infmitum. 
 
 vitupperate, vituperate. 
 
 Monday, October tst. 
 
 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 itsmeit, 
 
 and how pretty it looked. Spent an hour delightfully in putting it into 
 water. Got things ready for to-night, practised till dinner, and wrote 
 journal. My father received a letter to-day, informing 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 possible ; 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 j- but what a cast ! what a play ! what botchers ! what butchers ! In 
 his very first scene, the most Christian king stuck fast ; and there he 
 stood, shifting his truncheon from hand to hand, rolling his eyes, gasp 
 ing 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 Anglers, when the French and Eng 
 lish heralds summon 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 look 
 ed off the stage in discomfiture and indignation, 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, that " began to play alone." 
 Chatillon, on his return from England, begged to assure us that with 
 
JOURNAL 75 
 
 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 shonl, 
 as usual: he was dreadfully terrified, poor thing; and all the time he 
 spoke kept giving little nervous 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 incoherence ; 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" re 
 covers 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 car 
 dinal 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 re 
 mained with his mouth open j neither of them uttering a syllable ! 
 What a scene ! O, what a glorious scene ! Game 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, 5rf. 
 
 Rose late. After breakfast, went lo rehearsal : what a mess I do make 
 of Bizarre ! Ellen Tree and Mrs. Ghatterly 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 
 
 () 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 en 
 tertainment 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 indifferent 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 characters, and nine or ten sticks 
 for all the rest. The consequence 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. 
 
76 JOURNAL. 
 
 be less damnatory upon those who do ill. It is not easy to act well. 
 After rehearsal, went to Stewart s with D . As we were proceed 
 ing up Broadway to Bonfanli s, () I saw a man in the strangest attitude 
 imaginable, absolutely setting at us : presently he pounced, and who 
 
 should it be but . He came into Bonfanti s with us, and afterwards 
 
 insisted on escorting us to our various destinations; not, however, with 
 out manifold and deep lamentations on his slovenly appearance and dirty 
 gloves. The latter, however, he managed to exchange, chemin faisant, 
 for a pair of new ones, which he extracted from his pocket and drew on, 
 without letting go our arms, which he squeezed most unmercifully dur 
 ing 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 
 adornments of life are yet in this country, renders it impossible for the 
 number of distinct trades to exist that do among us, where the popula 
 tion is so much denser, and where the luxurious indulgences 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 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, etc., are suspended about in long draperies, 
 whose vivid colours flying over the face of the houses give them an un 
 tidy, but at the same time a gay, flaunting appearance. We went into a 
 shop to buy some stockings, and missing our preux chevalier, 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 <ill work fromhishead tohis feet, 
 and having dusted his boots, drawn himself up in his surtout, buttoned its 
 
 ( ) Stewart Bonfanti. The name of shopkeepers in Broadway : the former s 
 is the best shop in New York. 
 
JOURNAL. 73 
 
 two lower buttons, and given a reforming 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 
 for dinner. Mr. and Mrs. -- and Mr. -- dined with us. 
 
 Mr. -- is an Englishman of the high breed, and sufficiently plea 
 sant. 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 composing 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, 4lh. 
 
 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 be 
 fore. Put out things for the theatre : dined at three. Colonel 
 called. Wrote journal : while doing so, was called out to look at my 
 r 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 1 
 The gown was spoil d ! 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 tradespeople 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 
 
78 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 headach, 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. 
 
 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, 6t7i. 
 
 Rose late : when I came in U) breakfast, found Colonel sitting in 
 
 the parlour. He remained for a long time, and we had sundry discus 
 sions on topics manifold. It seems that the blessed people here were 
 shocked at my having to hear the coarseness of Farquhar s Inconstant 
 humbug !( ) * # ; *" * 
 
 ( ) Were the morality that I constantly hear tillered 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 objections, at present, 
 to make. Unqualified condemnation, particularly 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 sup 
 posing it to be, not what theatres too often are, but what they ought to be), is 
 not a theatre a better, a higher, a more noble, and useful place of recreation than 
 a billiard-room, or ihe 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 refined sources of recreation ; but in the mean time, I confess, with its ma 
 nifold abuses, a play-house appears to me worthy of toleration, if not of appro- 
 
JOURNAL. TO 
 
 At twelve, went out shopping, and paying bills ; called upon Mrs. , 
 
 and sat some time with her and Mrs. ; left a card at Mrs. s, 
 
 batiou, as holding forth (when directed asitshould be) a highly intellectual, rational, 
 and refined amusement. 
 
 However, as I before said, my quarrel is not with those who condemn indiscri 
 minately all theatrical exhibitions ; they may be right : at all events, so sweeping 
 a sentence betrays no inconsistency. But what are we to say to individuals, 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 
 character appears whose motives of action arc not most unworthy, and whose 
 language is not as full of coarseness, as devoid of every generous, elevated, or refin 
 ed 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 I 
 was told that an American audience would not endure that portion of Beatrice s 
 wit which the London censors have spared, and that Othello was all but a pro 
 scribed play ; but it was infinitely more so, when I found that the same audience 
 tolerated, or rather encouraged with their presence and applause, the coarse pro 
 ductions of Mrs. Centlivre and Beaumont and Fletcher. With regard to the In 
 constant, it is by far the most moral of Farquhar s plays; that, perhaps, is little 
 praise, for the Recruiting Officer, and the Beaux 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 depraved in the senti 
 ments 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 
 
80 JOURNAL. 
 
 and came home, prepared things for our journey, and dressed for din 
 ner. On our way to Mr. s, my father told me he had been seeing 
 
 Miss Clifton, the girl they want him to teach to act; (to teach to act, 
 quotha!!!) He says, she is very pretty indeed, with fine eyes, a fair 
 delicate skin, and a handsome mouth ; moreover, a tali 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 . 
 
 to be far more wholesome, because far more homely, than that of most theatrical 
 inventions; invention, 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 lie was rescued precisely as he extricates his hero. Of the truth 
 and satirical power of the dialogue, none who understand it can dispute; and if, 
 instead of attaching themselves to the farcical romping of Bizarre and her un- 
 gallant 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 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 
 a 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 simi 
 larity between them, and the base, degraded, selfish, cowardly tribe of petty lar 
 ceny vices with which human societies abound, as there is between the caterpillar 
 blight, that crawls over a fertile district, gnawing it away inch-meal, and the thun 
 derbolt that scathes, or the earthquake that swallows the same region, in its awful 
 mission of destruction. But I maintain that freedom 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 Shakspcare s female characters has offered a better vindica- 
 
JOURNAL. 81 
 
 s face reminded me of young : the countenance was not quite 
 
 so good, but there was the same radiant look a!;out the eyes and fore 
 head. 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 work, 
 where the might of genius triumphing over every material impediment 
 has enshrined and embodied spirit itself, it is that. Talking of Law- 
 
 tion of their manners than I could write; I can only say, I pity sincerely all those 
 who, passing over the exquisite purity, delicacy, and loveliness of their conception, 
 dwell only upon modes of expression which belong to the times in which their 
 great creator lived. With respect to the manner in which audiences are affect 
 ed 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 belter 
 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 
 unvirtuous or unlovely characters (I cannot, however, help remembering 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 looking as cross as they possibly could, which could not but be a great satis 
 faction to any moral audience. I have seen this done by that fine part in Mil- 
 man 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, per 
 haps. I speak of a great artist, whose efforts I never witnessed, but whose pri 
 vate 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, 
 
82 JOURNAL. 
 
 rence, (poor Lawrence!) Mrs. said, " Ah, yes! your picture 
 
 by a Sir something Lawrence !" Oh, fame! oh, fame! Oh, va 
 nity and vexation of spirit ! does your eternity and your infinitude 
 amount to this ? There are lands where Shakspeare s name was never 
 heard, where Raphael and Handel are unknown; to he 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 giggler, 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 ZucchelU. O tem- 
 
 pora ! 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 enlight 
 ened New Yorkians applauded mightily. But the Prima Donna ! but 
 the Cenerentola ! Cospetto di Venere, what a figure, and what a face ! 
 Indeed she was the very thing for a lower housemaid, and I think the 
 Prince was highly to blame for removing her from the station nature had 
 evidently intended her for. She was old and ugly, and worse than 
 ugly, unpardonably common-looking, with a cast in her eye, and a foot 
 
 that, as Mr. observed, it would require a pretty considerable 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 
 
 seslett vehemently ; but when it came to that most touching " nacqui 
 al a/famio," he wisely interposed 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 per- 
 
JOURNAL. 83 
 
 suaded (hat it is ? Though why do I ask it ? Oh yes, " very easily 
 possible." Do not half the people in London spend money and lime 
 without end, enduring nightly penances listening to what they can t 
 understand, and could n t appreciate if they did? I suppose if I shall 
 allow a hundred out of the whole King s Theatre audience to know any 
 thing 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, Mozart, Beethoven, and Weber, are not, that is cer 
 tain. ( ) I wish I could have seen Mr. 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 lake 
 
 !* 9 
 ( ) 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 exquisite native melodies, probably, in the world. France, though 
 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 tbick groves of Portugal 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 capa 
 city, to have been stinted of a faculty, to the possession of which sbe vainly aspires. 
 The rich spirit of Italian music, the solemn soul of German melody, tlie wild free 
 Euterpe of the Cantons, have in vain been summoned by turns to teach her how 
 to listen; tis all in vain she 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 spile of hosts of foreign musicians, in spite of tbe 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 criticising young gentlemen, England, to 
 the last day of her life, will be a dunce in music, for sbe hath it not in her; 
 neither, if I am not much mistaken, hath her daughter. 
 
84 JOURNAL. 
 
 the taste of the Cenerentola out of his mouth. Me stayed some time. 
 I like him enough : he is evidently a clever man, though he does mur 
 der the King s English. (By the by, does English, the tongue, belong, 
 in America, to the King or the President I wonder? I should rather 
 think, from my limited observations, 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. 
 
 Sunday, 7t/i. 
 
 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." Colonel 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 rppealed to in the house of prayer, the better for 
 me and my devotions. Although I have experienced excitement of a 
 stern and martial, and sometimes of a 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 dispense 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 
 
JOURNAL. 85 
 
 father dined with Mr. : D and I dined tete-a-tete. Colonel 
 
 came twice through the pouring rain to look after our baggage for 
 to-morrow; such charily is unexampled. 
 
 Monday, 8th. 
 
 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, perhaps 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 Philadelphia 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 tax 
 ation. The wine was 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 dis 
 order and dirt; the living was by no means good; the whole house 
 being conducted on a close scraping system of inferior accommodations 
 and extravagant charges. On a sudden influx of visiters, sitting-rooms 
 were converted into bed-rooms, containing four and five beds. The 
 number of servants 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 
 
86 JOURNAL. 
 
 slept about any where, in the public rooms, or on sofas in drawing- 
 rooms, let to private families. In short, nothing can exceed the want 
 of order, propriety, and comfort in this establishment, except the enor 
 mity 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 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 t came down to the third deck to sleep. These 
 steam-boats have Ihree stories; the upper one is, as it were, a roofing or 
 terrace on the leads of the second, 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 downwards, in fact, the ground floor, 
 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 wea 
 ther is unfavourable. 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 neces 
 sary, if they should like to be sick; whit her I came and slept till breakfast 
 time. Vigne s account of the pushing, thrusting, rushing, and devour 
 ing 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 was conducted with perfect 
 order, propriety, and civility. The breakfast was good, and served and 
 
 ( ) 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 convenience in the five o clock ordinary, now established there, which 
 is, I am told, excellently conducted and appointed. 
 
JOURNAL. 87 
 
 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 Tsland. ( ) As 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 phrenology, 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 development of his own system, but, as it were, only an introduc 
 tion to it ; and his own admissions of the obscurity 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 measure 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 the 
 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 wretchedness 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 
 
 ( ) 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 States 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. 
 
88 JOURNAL 
 
 down, lo protect the inmates from the wet. There are three seats in this 
 machine; the middle one, having a movable leathern strap, by way of 
 a dossier, 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 
 
 occupied the opposite one; a third lady, and a gentleman 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 than two human beings of common 
 growth and proportions 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, 1 
 took heart of grace, and resigned 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 protruding across our path ; 
 their boughs every now and then giving us an affectionate scratch 
 through the windows; and, more than once, a half-demolished 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 ! (*) 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 performances of a coach and four, 
 
 ( ) 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. 
 
JOURNAL. 89 
 
 but laughed and talked incessantly, the young ladies, at the very top 
 of their voices, and with the national nasal twang. ( ) The conversa 
 tion was much of the genteel shopkeeper 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 beautiful 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 neigh 
 bours ! Fortunately she was near the window ; and during our whole 
 fourteen miles of purgatory she alternately leaned from it overcome 
 with sickness, then reclined languishingly 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 companions, 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 nature appears more gorgeously 
 
 ( ) 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; Penn 
 sylvania 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 coun 
 ties 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 unintel 
 ligible by far. 
 
 ( 2 ) This appears to me to be a most frequent ailment among the American 
 ladies : they must have particularly bilious constitutions. I never remember 
 travelling in a steam-boat, on the smoothest water, without seeing sundry "afflict 
 ed fair ones," who complained bitterly of sea-sickness in the river. 
 
 4. 
 
90 JOURNAL. 
 
 clad in this her fading mantle, than in all the summer s flush of bloom 
 in our less-favoured climates. ( ) I noted several beautiful wild flowers 
 growing among the underwood ; some of which I have seen adorning 
 with great dignity our most cultivated gardens. ( 2 ) 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 vege 
 tables. 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 limber. 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 
 desolate, untidy, untended look : the gates broken, the fences carelessly 
 put up, or ill repaired ; the farming-utensils skittishly scattered about a 
 littered yard, where the pigs seemed to preside by undisputed right; 
 honse-windows broken, and stuffed with paper or clothes j 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 
 neatness, 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. ( 3 ) The fences struck me 
 
 ( ) In spite of its beauty, or rather on that very account, an American autumn 
 is to me particularly sad. It presents a 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. 
 
 ( a ) 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 evergreen shrub unequalled for its beauty, and which absolutely 
 overruns 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. 
 
 ( 3 ) In the opening chapter of thai popular work, Eugene Aram, are the fol 
 lowing words : "It has been observed, and there is a world of homely, ay, and 
 
JOURNAL. 91 
 
 as peculiar ; I never saw any such in England. They are made of rails of 
 wood placed horizontally, and meetingat obtuse angles, so forminga zig-zag 
 wall of wood, which runs over the country like Ihe herring-hone seams of 
 a flannel petticoat. At each of the angles two slanting stakes, considera 
 bly higher than the restof the fence, were driven into the ground, crossing 
 each other at the lop, so as to secure the horizontal rails in their position. ( ) 
 
 of legislative knowledge in the observation, that wherever you see a flower in a 
 cottage garden, or a bird-cage at the window, you may feel sure that the cotta 
 gers 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 a one, neatness and a certain endeavour at rustic elegance and 
 adornment, in the cottages and country residences, recall those of their father 
 land ; and the pleasure of the traveller is immeasurably heightened by this cir 
 cumstance. If the wild beauties of uncultivated nature lead our contemplations 
 to our great Maker, these lowly witnesses of the industry and natural refinement 
 of 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 circumstances, 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 divi 
 sions of the fields, instead of those delicious " hedge-rows green," where the old 
 elms delight to grow, where the early violets and primroses first peep sheltered 
 forth, where the hawthorn blossoms sweeten the summer, 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 abun 
 dance of native material ; but a wooden fence is put up in a few weeks, a hedge 
 lakes as maiiy years to grow; and, as I said before, an American has not time to 
 
92 JOURNAL. 
 
 There was every now and then a soft 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 four 
 teen miles we turned into a swampy field, the whole fourteen coachfuls 
 of us, and, by the help of Heaven, bag and baggage were packed into 
 the coaches which stood on the rail-way ready to receive us. The car- 
 riages were not drawn by steam, like those on the Liverpool rail-way, 
 but by horses, witli the mere advantage 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 prede 
 cessors 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. Thebaggage-waggon, which went before 
 us. a little obstructed the view. The road was neither pretty nor pic 
 turesque; 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 comfort 
 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 another 
 steam-boat waiting for us, when we all embarked on the Delaware. 
 
 be a year about any thing. When first the country was settled, the wood was 
 an encumbrance, and it was cut down accordingly : that is by no means the case 
 now; and the only recommendation of these fences is, therefore, the comparative 
 rapidity with which they can be constructed. 6ne of the most amiable and dis 
 tinguished 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 per 
 fection. 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 " most haste makes 
 worst speed." 
 
JOURNAL. 93 
 
 Again, the enormous width of the river struck me with astonishment 
 and admiration. Such huge bodies of water mark out the country 
 through which they run , as the future ahode of the most extensive com 
 merce and greatest maritime power in the universe. The banks pre 
 sented much the same features as those of the Raritan, though they were 
 not quite so flat, and more diversified with scattered dwellings, villages, 
 and towns. We passed Bristol and Burlington, stopping at each of them 
 lo take tip passengers. ( ) I sat working, having finished my book, not 
 a little discomlited by the pertinacious staring of some of my fellow- 
 travellers. One woman, in particular, after wandering round me in 
 every direction, 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 loo, 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 street, stairs, 
 steam-boat, every where and behind the scenes on the stage at rehear 
 sal I have been shocked and annoyed beyond expression by this horrible 
 custom. To-day, onboard the boat, it was a perfect shower of saliva all the 
 time; and I longed to be released from my fellowship with these very obno 
 xious chewers of tobacco. ( 2 ) 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 impediments. The manager came lo look after us and our goods ; 
 
 ( ) 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 Philadelphia^. 
 
 ( 2 ) It has happened to me after a few hours travelling in a steam-boat to find 
 the white dress, put on fresh in the morning, covered with yellow tohacco 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 remorse; 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 windows, to my inexpressi 
 ble disgust. 
 
94 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 chambermaid replied, 
 that they were not accustomed to allow lodgers so much room 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. Dress 
 ed, and dined at five; after dinner, wrote journal till tea-time, and 
 then came to bed. 
 
 Tuesday, 9t/. 
 
 Rose at half-past eight. Went and took a bath. On my way thi 
 ther, drove through two melancholy-looking squares, which reminded 
 me a little of poor old Queen Square in Bristol. The ladies baths were 
 closed, bul, as I was not particular, they gave me one in the part of the 
 house usually allotted to the me r * s use. I was much surprised to find 
 two baths in one room, but it seems to me that (he people of this 
 country have an aversion to solitude, whether eating, sleeping, or under 
 anv other circumstances. 
 
 I made acquaintance with a bewitching Newfoundland puppy, whom I 
 greatly coveted. Came home, dressed, and breakfasted. After break 
 fast, righted my things, and wrote journal. Took a walk with my 
 father through some of the principal streets. The town is perfect si 
 lence and solitude, compared 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 unadorned style of architecture ; and is in harmony, too, 
 with the extreme brilliancy of the sky, and clearness of the atmosphere 
 of this country. () We passed another larger building, also a bank, in 
 
 ( ) I wish that somebody would be so obliging as to impress people in general 
 
JOURNAL. 95 
 
 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 j 
 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 lime, and much 
 excitement subsists with regard to the choice of the future President. () 
 
 with the extreme excellence of a perception of \\izfoness of things. Besides the 
 intrinsic beauty of works of art, they have a beauty derived from their appropri 
 ateness 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 bad fallen out of the clouds by chance; parks and plant 
 ations 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 
 forsaken their appropriate situations, to rear themselves in climates, and among 
 scenery, with which they in no way harmonise. 
 
 ( ) Politics of all sorts, I confess, are far beyond my limited powers of com 
 prehension. 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 sepa 
 ration, 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 occasions, are occurring incessantly, and keeping 
 alive the interest which high and low alike take in the evolutions of their political 
 machine. Elections of slate officers, elections of civil authorities, all manner of 
 elections (for America is one perpetual contest for voles), 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 extremely amused 
 at seeing over a hat-shop in New York one day, " Anti-Bank Hat-Store," written 
 in most atlractive characters, as an inducement for all good democrats to go in 
 and purchase their heavers of so republican a halter. The universal-suffrage sys- 
 
iffi 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 Henry Clay. Here is the usual quantity of shouting and 
 breaking windows that we are accustomed 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 excel 
 lent one. The master of this house was, it seems, once a man of inde 
 pendent fortune, and a great bon vivant. He has retained from thence 
 a fellow-feeling for his guests, and does by them as he wtmld be done 
 by. After dinner, worked till tea-time; after tea, wrote journal, and 
 now I 11 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 onr baggage from the steam-boat was 
 ycleped Oliver Cromwell. I have begun Grahame s History of Ame 
 rica, and like it (t mainly," as the old plays say. 
 
 Wednesday, IOM. 
 
 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 what Colonel will say to that. At twelve o clock, 
 
 sallied forth with D to rehearsal. The theatre is very pretty 5 not 
 
 large but well sized, and, I should think, favourably constructed for the 
 voice. ***** 
 
 tern is of course the cause of this general political mania; and during an election 
 of mayor or aldermen, 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 frequently some 
 petty local interest or other, strangers cannot derive much pleasure from, or feel 
 much sympathy in, the debate. 
 
JOURNAL. 97 
 
 Unless Aldabella is irresistibly lovely, as well as wicked, there is no 
 accounting for the conduct of Fazio. My own idea of her, as well as Mil- 
 man 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 would 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 cleanliness, 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 irre 
 gular collection of temporary buildings, erected for some casual purpose, 
 full of life, animation, and variety, but not meant to endure for any 
 length of lime ; a fair, in short. This place has a much more substan 
 tial, 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-passengers, and I 
 
 ;un much disappointed in not finding here. Dined at three; after 
 
 dinner, read my father some of my journal; w r ent 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 refinement renders it unfit for 
 the frame in which it is exhibited. Whoever should paint a scene cal 
 culated for so large a space as a theatre, and destined to be viewed at 
 the distance from which an audience 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 prefer 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 
 
$* JOURNAL. 
 
 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 is the better artist of the two, though probably not the most 
 intellectual man. For it is the part of such a one to know exactly what 
 will best convey 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 beauty of all my father s performances, but particularly 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 
 ihe whole a most laborious and minute study, toilsome in the conception and 
 acquirement, and most toilsome in the execution. But the result, though 
 the natural one, is not suchashe expects, as the reward of so much labour, 
 
 () 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 proof of the decline of the more imaginative faculties among them ; and the 
 proportionate increase of that fastidious and critical spirit, which is so far re 
 moved from every thing which constitutes the essence of poetry. The idea of illu 
 sion in a dramatic exhibition is confined to the Christmas spectators of old trage 
 dies and new pantomimes ; the more refined portions 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 forgotten what human nature 
 really is, and cannot even imagine it. They require absolute reality on the stage, 
 because their incapable spirits scoff at poetical truth ; and that absolute reality, in 
 our days, consists in such representations as the Rent Day; or (crossing the 
 water, for we dearly love what is foreign) the homely improbabilities of Yicto- 
 rine, Henrietta, and a pack of equally worthless subjects of exhibition. Indeed, 
 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 suffi 
 ciently refined to lose all power of imagination ; and while our aristocracy patron 
 ise French melodramas, and seek their excitement in the most trashy sentimental 
 ities of the modern ecole romantique, I have some hopes that our plebeian pits and 
 galleries 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 
 " nothing, if not critical." 
 
JOURNAL. 99 
 
 Few persons are able to follow such a performance with the necessary 
 attention, and it is almost as great an exertion to see it undcrstandiuyly, 
 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 desirous 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 proportion of power of 
 exciting, and capability of being excited. If, therefore, the actor ex 
 pends his 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 appa 
 rent 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 individual emphasis on each note would be utterly unproductive 
 of the desired effect. All things cannot have all their component parts 
 equal, and " nothing pleaselh but rare accidents." This being 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 ca 
 pability of again producing, and again receiving, such impressions. It 
 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 concep 
 tion and embodying of a part which Kean allows himself : literally acting 
 detached passages alone, and leaving all the others, and the entire cha 
 racter, indeed, utterly destitute of unity, or the semblance of any con 
 sistency whatever. But Kean and my father are immediately each 
 other s antipodes, and, in adopting their different 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, 
 
100 JOURNAL. 
 
 possesses particular physical qualifications; an eye like an orb of light, a 
 voice, exquisitely touching and melodious in its tenderness, and in the 
 harsh dissonance of vehement passion terribly true; to these he adds the 
 intellectual 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 him 
 self, leaving unheeded what he probably could not compass, the unity 
 of conception, the refinement of detail, and evenness of execution. () 
 My father possesses certain physical defects, a faintness of colouring in 
 the face and eye, a weakness of voice ; and the corresponding intellec 
 tual deficiencies, a want of intensity, vigour, and concentrating power : 
 these circumstances have led him (probably unconsciously) to give his 
 attention 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 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 lie never gave their fullest ex 
 pression. I fancy my aunt Siddons united (he excellences of both these 
 styles. But to return to my father s Hamlet : every time I see it, some- 
 
 ( ) 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 ac 
 knowledge him as a great actor j but they must be bigoted, indeed, who would 
 deny that he was a great genius, a man of most original and striking powers, 
 careless of art, perhaps because he did not need it ; hut 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, Desdemoua. 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 unartistlike in his performances, so is Niagara, compared with the 
 water-works of Versailles. 
 
JOURNAL. 101 
 
 thing 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 beyond measure. 
 It is distinct, and wholly different from the noble, rational, philosophic 
 conviction, " 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 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 deportment; his perfect 
 i^ood-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, thorough-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, \\tli. 
 
 Rose rather late. After breakfast, wrote journal ; at twelve, went to 
 
 rehearsal. * 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 () 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 compassion and forlorn pity of his looks bestow 
 ing that an others which, above all others, he most needed; the melancholy rest- 
 Jessness, 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 ma ie my heart sore to act it. 
 
102 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 belter; 
 and as the natives here are quite satisfied with their shuffling, rollicking, 
 mongrel 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 again to 
 morrow and see after something for myself. Came home : the enchant 
 ing 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 therefor. Nothing can 
 exceed the civility of the people here, and the house is extremely well 
 kept, quiet, and comfortable. 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-lime, 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, \Wi. 
 Rose at eight. After breakfast, sat writing journal and lelter to . 
 
 ( ) 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 country 
 are those trained for trotting : their speed is almost incredible. I have been 
 whirled along in a light-built carriage by a pair of famous professed trotters, 
 who certainly got over 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 ot 
 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. 
 
JOURNAL. 103 
 
 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 ar 
 rived ; but my father saw the grey. We were there for some time ; and 
 during 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 
 persuaded, 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 coques 
 de perle 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 obei 
 sance, as when my audience is civil enough to rise to me : " there is 
 differences, look you." * * * * 
 
 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 7 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 compliment an actor can re 
 ceive, yet he is deprived by that very stillness of half his power. Excite 
 ment is reciprocal between the performer and the audience : 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 
 
104 JOURNAL. 
 
 I receive, the very noise and tumult of which tends to heighten the ner 
 vous energy which the scene itself begets. I know that my aunt Sid- 
 dons has frequently said the same thing. And besides the above reason 
 for applause, the physical powers of an actor require, after any tremen 
 dous exertion, the rest and regathering of 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, }5th. 
 
 Rose at half-past eight. After breakfast, wrote journal ; practised for 
 an hour ; got things ready for to-morroAV; put on my habit, which I had 
 no sooner done than the perverse clouds began to rain. The horses came 
 tat two, but the weather was so bad that I sent them avay again. Prac 
 tised for another hour, read a canto in Dante, and ciressed 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 entreaty 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 lake something that I have by me : as for 
 my 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. . * * 
 
 fie 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 11 go to bed : mjr 
 cough s enough to kill a horse. 
 
JOURNAL. 105 
 
 Sunday, \4tli. 
 
 Rose late ; so late that, by the time I had breakfasted, it was no long 
 time to go to church. * 
 
 Finished my first letter to . Mr. called, and told us that he 
 
 was going about agitating, and that Jackson was certainly to be re- 
 elected. * * * 
 
 U 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 facade, 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 dissenters 7 
 chapel. The form of worship, though displeasing to me in itself, bor 
 rowed 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 version of Fazio, ycleped Grimaldi, from 
 which the author sw r ears Milman has shamefully filched the plot, charac 
 ters, and even the language, I believe, of his drama. A gentleman of 
 the press , by name , paid us an evening visit. He seems an intel 
 ligent young man enough ; and when he spoke of the autumnal woods, 
 by the Oneida lake, his expressions were poetical and enthusiastic ; and 
 he pleased me. ( ) He seems to think much of having had the honour of 
 
 ( ) 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 fre 
 quently heard it quoted, as a proof of a man s abilities, that he writes in such and 
 such a newspaper. Besides the popularity to be obtained by it, it if of ten 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 
 
106 JOURNAL. 
 
 corresponding with sundry of the small literati of London. Je lui en 
 
 fais man compliment. When he was gone, wrote another letter to ; 
 
 journal, and now to bed. 
 
 Monday, \5th. 
 
 Rose at eight ; took a hot bath. The more I read of Graharae, the 
 belter I like him and his history. Those early settlers in Massachusetts 
 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, invi 
 gorating 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 ai New York. Came home, put out 
 things for the theatre, practised 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 at sunset. Autumn 
 is an emperor here, clothed in crimson and gold, and canopied with 
 
 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 permanent fame. I know that half my young gentle 
 men acquaintance 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. 
 
 ( ) 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. " Cleanliness," says the old saw, 
 "is near to godliness." Philadelphia must be very near heaven. 
 
JOURNAL. 107 
 
 ruddy glowing skies. Yet I like the sad russet cloak of our own autum 
 nal 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 wait 
 upon him, as he goes stripping the trees of their bright foliage, leaving 
 them like the ungai landed 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, t is diffi 
 cult! 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 congenial representative of that sweetest vision of youth and love. 
 Once, only, this w r as 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 ap 
 plauded vehemently at the end of my draught scene, and a great deal at 
 the end of the play ; but they are, nevertheless, intolerably dull; and it 
 is all but impossible to act to them. * * * 
 
 The man who acted Gapulet 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. 
 
108 JOURNAL. 
 
 Tuesday 7 \6th. 
 
 Pvose at nine. After breakfast, read a canto in Dante ; wrote journal; 
 practised for an hour. The Boston manager, it seems, does not ap 
 prove of our terms; and after bargaining till past two o clock last night 
 with my father, the latter, wearied out with his illiberal trafficking, and 
 coarse vulgarity of manner, declined the thing altogether : so, unless 
 the gentleman thinks better of the matter, 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 I However, my 
 hones are young, and my courage good, and I don t mind a little hard 
 work; but the road was 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 with 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 Penitentiary 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 followed the water s edge. The rich colours of the foliage 
 oast a warm light over the transparent face of the mirror-like stream; 
 and, far along the winding shores, a mingled mantle of gorgeous glow 
 ing 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 an- 
 
 ( ) 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 al this moment in the hands of a trustee, and Heaven and 
 a New England court of justice will decide \vhether they are ever to come into 
 ours. 
 
JOURNAL. 109 
 
 olher, which may he just as bad, and, moreover, a stranger. My riding- 
 cap seemed to excite universal marvel wherever we 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 Gentile, 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. Btverley s gown, and began marking journal; while doing so, 
 a card was brought up. * 
 
 Presently Mr. came in, another of our Pacific 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 tell 
 ing me that he had heard my behaviour canvassed with much censure 
 
 by some man or olher, who met me at Mr. s, 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 strange animal to them all; but they seem just as strange to me. 
 
 , Wednesday, 
 
 Rose at eight. After breakfast, put out things for the theatre. At 
 eleven, went to rehearsal. It seems there has been fighting, and rush 
 ing, 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. England, 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 manners (and 
 he knows both, for he has lived constantly in this country, and his par- 
 
110 JOURNAL. 
 
 ticularities are, I believe, fairly divided between it and his own,) is any 
 
 thing but agreeable. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 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, comparative ciphers ; and the retiring, modest, 
 youthful bearing, which among us distinguishes girls of fifteen or six 
 teen, is equally unknown. Society is entirely led by chits, who in Eng 
 land 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 Mr. was gone, 
 
 ( ) When we arrived in America, we brought letters of introduction to seve 
 ral persons in New York: many were civil enough to call upon us : we were invit 
 ed 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 repeated, and my stay prolonged ; and, in the 
 course of time, I became acquainted with many individuals whose manners and 
 acquirements were of a high order, and from whose intercourse 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 thai 
 they formed a society among themselves, 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 ac 
 quirements rendered their companionship 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 loo well satisfied with the resources of their own society, 
 either to mingle in that of the \u\garjashionables, or seek with avidity the ac 
 quaintance of every stranger that arrives in New York. It is not to be wondered 
 
JOURNAL. lit 
 
 practised till dinner-time After dinner, practised for half an hour; 
 marked 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 Sneerwell 
 had dragged all her 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 
 
 at that foreigners have spoken as they have of what is termed fashionable society 
 here, or have condemned, with unqualified censure, the manners and tone prevail 
 ing in it. Their condemnations arc true and just as regards what they see ; no) 1 , 
 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, subsists in Philadel 
 phia between the self-styled fashionables and the really good society. The dis 
 tinction there is really of a nature perfectly ludicrous. A friend of mine was 
 describing to me a family whose manners were unexceptionable 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 receiv 
 ed 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 entertainment 
 to the feet of the parties assembled; and they judge well. Now, I beg leave 
 clearlv 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 Englishman, 
 \h\sfashionable 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 cultivation. 
 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 
 manners, render it infinitely more agreeable. But of that hereafter. 
 
112 JOURNAL. 
 
 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, unfortunately 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, lam riot " genieel" enough, and I am conscious of it. The play 
 went off remarkably well. Came to bed at half-past eleven. 
 
 Thursday, \Sth. 
 
 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, which is a fine, broad, long street, running paral 
 lel wilh Chestnut Street. We walked along the road under 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 standing on the sunny slope of a green 
 rise. The undulating 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. * 
 
 4 f- + * * 
 
 Some good farming and tidy out-houses, and dependencies, 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 a level uninteresting road for some time, we turned 
 
 ( ) The beautiful villas on the banks of the Schuylkill are all either utterly de 
 serted and.half ruinous, or let out by the proprietors to tavern-keepers. The rea 
 son 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 possession of the place, and 
 
JOURNAL J13 
 
 off to the right, and, standing on the brow of a 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 
 
 effectually banishes all other occupants. This very extraordinary and capricious 
 malady is as 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 ihe other in 
 the enjoyment of perfect health ; in short, it is quite as unaccountable in its pro 
 ceedings 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 
 slrewn, year after year, till it absolutely forms a second soil ; the dam lately erect 
 ed by the water-works, and which, intercepting the tide, causes occasional stag 
 nation ; 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 attri 
 bute the fever and ague to that, and to that alone. I allude to a foul and stag 
 nant 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 ihat if the gentle 
 men proprietors of the lands along this part of the river would drain this very 
 poisonous-looking repository for bull-frogs, their dwellings would, in all proba 
 bility, be free from fever and ague. 
 
 5. 
 
114 JOURNAL. 
 
 maroon, that clothed the thickets ; the masses of grey granite, with the 
 vivid mossy green lhat clung round them; the sunny purple waters; 
 the warm red colour of the road itself, as it wound down below r , 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 was drunk with beauty. () How I 
 
 though t of Mr. . Indeed a painter would have gone crazy over it, 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 
 pallet, 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 shed 
 ding 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 underwood, 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 forme, 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. 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 narrow coteries. But he speaks like an enthusiast of 
 the woods and waters of his glorious country, and I excuse his taste in 
 poetry. Now is n t this strange, that a man who can feel the amazing 
 might, majesty, and loveliness of nature, can endure for a moment the 
 mawkish scribbling of these poetasters? Verily, we be anomalous beasts. 
 
 ( ) This beautiful younger world appears to me to have received the portion ot 
 the beloved younger son the " coat of many colours." 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 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 curtain d o er; 
 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, 
 
116 JOURNAL. 
 
 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. 
 Yet something of sad sovereignty 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 husli d attendance, ever wait. 
 
 Telling how all things fair must pass away. 
 
 Tuesday, 25d. 
 
 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 wilh 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 -con a try woman. I had not a farthing of money : 
 
 D and my father were out; so I took the reference she gave me, 
 
 and promised (o 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 which they engender, and the 
 
JOURNAL. 117 
 
 sort of excuse which they teach us to apply plausibly to our unwillingness 
 to answer such demands. " Oh, ten to one, an imposlor," is soon said, 
 and instances enough may unfortunately be found to prove the probabi 
 lity of such a conclusion. Yet in this sweeping condemnation one real 
 case of misery may be included, and that possibility should make us pause, 
 for t is one that, if afterwards detected, may be the source of heavy 
 condemnation, and bitter regret to ourselves. ( ) 
 
 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 w r here one s enquiries 
 
 ( ) This country is in oiie 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 help 
 less 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 anguish 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 country, 
 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 piteou* 
 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 ;uot one immortal soul is thrown into 
 jeopardy by the combined temptations of its own misery, and the heartless self 
 ishness 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, 
 
118 JOURNAL. 
 
 are satisfactorily answered. Received a purple-bound gilt-edged perio 
 dical, 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, 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 lime 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 dif 
 ference in acting with him ; but this part fatigues me horribly. 
 
 Wednesday, 24/7i. 
 
 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 i( 
 is, that my trouble involves necessarily the trouble of somebody else, as I 
 cannot go trotting and exploring 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 it alights on 
 those who are seeking to do good . A nd 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 ray 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 carpel, and no letter in the letter scene, 
 
JOURNAL. 119 
 
 which lost one of my favourite points ; one, by the by, that 1 am fond of, 
 because it is all my own. 
 
 Thursday, 
 
 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 their 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. 
 
120 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, 26t/i. 
 
 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 thankfulness. 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 
 
 myself 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 some time, we 
 bethought us of looking for our poursuivants ; 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 lhat 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, ap 
 plauding her like a living creature; how much of national pride, of 
 anticipated triumph, will be roused in every heart, as her huge wings 
 
JOURNAL. 121 
 
 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 such a consummation. When my wonderment had a 
 little subsided, it occurred to me thai 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 Atlantis, 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 conse 
 quence of which some impudent women amused themselves with talking 
 during the whole play, much "louder than ihe players. " At one time 
 their impertinent racket 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 inierference with the 
 sacred liberties of the people. I indulged them with a very significant 
 glance; and at one moment was most strongly tempted to request them 
 to hold their tongues. 
 
 Saturday, 27th. 
 
 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. . 
 
122 JOURNAL. 
 
 She interested me most extremely : I would have stayed long with her, 
 hut feared she might exhaust herself by the exertion of conversing. On 
 
 my return 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 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 lime, making most 
 excessively fine speeches to me : while he was here, arrived another 
 bouquet from my unknown friend; how nice, to be-sure! all but not 
 knowing who they come from. When my visite 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 Ameri 
 can pxclusives, I should think. 
 
 Sunday, 28M. 
 
 Had only time to swallow a mouthful of breakfast, 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 stilkiness, spread over twice as much space 
 as they required. The spirit of independence seems to preside para 
 mount, even in the house of God. This congregation, by frequenting 
 an Episcopalian temple, evidently professed the form of faith of the Eng 
 lish church ; yet they neither ulterel the responses, nor observed any 
 
I 
 
 JOURNAL. 123 
 
 one of the directions in the Common Prayer-book. Thus, during 1 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 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 appearance of 
 the congregation was that of indifference, indolence, and irreverence, 
 and was highly displeasing to my eye. After church, came home, 
 
 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 
 
 ( J ) Throughout all the northern states, and particularly those of New England, 
 the Unitarian form of faith prevails very extensively. It appears to me admir 
 ably 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 mysteri,es at which the rational mind 
 excepts ; and of long and laborious ceremonies, which too often engross the time 
 without the attention of the worshipper. They are poor, too, comparatively 
 speaking; and, were they so inclined, could little afford, either the splendid pa 
 geantry which the Roraish priesthood require, or the less glaring but not less ex 
 pensive revenues which the Episcopalian clergy enjoy. Their form of religion is 
 a simple one, a short one, and a cheap one. Without attempting to discuss its 
 excellence in the abstract, it certainly appears to me to be as much fitted for this 
 people, as the marvellous legends and magnificent shows of the Romish church 
 were to the early European nations. The church in America is not, as witfl us, 
 made a mere means of living : there are no rich benefices, or over-swelled bishop 
 rics, 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. 
 
12 i JOURNAL. 
 
 some of their crimson 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 indenting* 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 to keep pace with 
 
 I) ; and she, puffing, panting, and struggling on to keep pace with 
 
 us; yet I was perished, and she was half melted: like all compro 
 mises, 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 flut 
 tering 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 look 
 ed. 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 complete slaves of their masters. Horror 
 took possession of us, how were we ever to get back in time? To 
 turn back was hopeless : the endless curvings of the shore, however 
 much we had 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 ihe summit, and I 
 never saw any thing more lovely than the scene we were leaving be- 
 
JOURNAL, 125 
 
 hindus. 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 I he carriage. 
 I was in a fine glow. Certainly exercise is, in itself, very delightful, but 
 in scenes like these it is doubly so : the spirit is roused to activity by the 
 natural beauties around, and the fancy and feelings seem to acquire vi 
 gour from the quick circulation of the bloo 1, and the muscular energy 
 of the limbs; it is highly excellent.^) We jumped into the coach, 
 
 () 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 development of their system, its professors constantly advert, may find fa 
 vour even with those who are not prepared to admit the truth of the new phi 
 losophy 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 endea 
 vour 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 winch cannot 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 importance to the wise. 
 Much of our ease and contentedness depends upon them; much of our well-being, 
 much of our weU-duing, 
 
126 JOURNAL. 
 
 adjured the man by all the saints in the calendar to put wings to his cha 
 riot wheels, and sat concocting 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 Schuyikill, in consequence of some love 
 disappointment, and who was withdrawn just in lime to be preserved. 
 was to tell this story with the gravest face he could summon for the 
 occasion, while we went up to dress, and when we caine down we were 
 to corroborate his statement as correctly as good chance might enable 
 
 iis. We dressed in half a minute, and found Mr. sitting with my 
 
 lather, and looking amazingly demure. It seemed, however, that 
 
 no remark had been made, nor question asked, about our protracted per 
 ambulations, so that we had actually thrown away 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 circum 
 stance; but, alas! one of my auditors was occupied with a malelotte 
 rt anguilles, 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 evident satisfaction which the above subjects of meditation 
 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 
 
 original that youth is ! They talked politics, abused republicanism, 
 lauded aristocracy, drank tea, took snuff, ale cakes, and pottered a deal. 
 
 \Iy father was going fast asleep, was making a thousand signs to 
 
 me to go to the piano, when Mr. rose to depart : the other gentle 
 men took the hint, and left us at half-past ten. 
 
 Tuesday, 
 
 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 
 
JOURNAL. \T* 
 
 that nobody was at home. ( ) Came home, practised for some time : 
 
 all of a sudden the door opened, and in walked Colonel with my 
 
 father. He had j ust arrived from New York. He dined with us. A fter 
 
 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 audience as just so many cab 
 bages, 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 . u One exception makes a rule," say the scholars ; by that 
 
 same token, therefore, the Philadelphians are about the most inho^pl- 
 lable set of people it ever was my good fortune to fall in with. (*) 
 
 ( ) I think it has not been my good fortune, iu more than six instances, dur 
 ing my residence in this country, to find ladies "at home 11 in the morning. 
 The first reason for this is, the tolal impossibility of having a housekeeper; the 
 American servants steadfastly refusing to obey two mistresses; the being subser 
 vient to any appears, indeed, a dreadful hardship to them. Of course this com 
 pels 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 
 tor 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 prome 
 nade ; and I iiave 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 appear 
 ance 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 appear as if they never 
 were used : there are no books lying about, no work-tables covered with evi 
 dences of constant use, and if there is a piano, it is generally closed; the whole 
 giving one an uninhabited feel that is extremely uncomfortable. As to a morning 
 lounge in a lady s boudoir, or a gentleman 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. 
 
 () I am sure there is no town in Europe where my father could fix his resi- 
 
128 JOURNAL, 
 
 Towards the end of supper, we fell into a strange discussion as to the 
 nature of existence. A vain and fruitless 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, re 
 plete 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 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 T 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 wondrous 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 
 
 dence for a week, without being immediately found out by most of the residents 
 of any literary acquirements, 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 Phi 
 ladelphia, 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 cultivated 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 ilself. 
 
JOURNAL. 129 
 
 creation, of disease, decay, and death overman s body, of blindness and de 
 lusion over his mind, of sin over his soul; who beholds the frailty of good 
 men; who feels the miserable inconsistency 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 rewards 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. Yet of all 
 these, the sweetest, the brightest, the strongest, are those which our 
 soul draws from him, the end of ils desire, not those it finds here. And 
 how should not that spirit yearn for its accomplishment ? If we seek 
 knowledge here, a thousand mists arise between our incapable sensesand 
 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 fa 
 culties which, being of our soul, have the strength and enduring of im 
 mortality, the objects whereon we expend them here are vague, eva 
 nescent, disappointing; how then should we not desire to find food for 
 our capacities, abiding as themselves? 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 unut 
 terable 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 lies a road 
 between . * 
 
 ***** 
 
 \ break a break a break! So much the better ; for the two last 
 days have been nothing but annoyance, hard work, and heartach. 
 
 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 
 
130 JOURNAL. 
 
 lingering here. Found Colonel in the drawing-room. After break 
 fast, 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 
 belter 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, and 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. () Called 
 
 ( ) The familiar appellation by which the democracy designate 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 frequent 
 ed by the thorough-going Jacksonites; and they are sometimes surmounted by 
 the glorious "Cap of Liberty," that much abused symbol, which has presided 
 over so many scenes of political frenzy. 
 
 () In beholding this fine young giant of a world, with all its magnificent capabi 
 lities for greatness, I think every Englishman must feel immingled 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, behold 
 ing 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 resource 
 that other nations are forced either to buy abroad, or to create substitutes for at 
 home; no one, seeing the internal wealth of America, the abundant fertility ol 
 the earth s surface, the riches heaped below it, the unparalleled facilities for the 
 intercourse of men, and the interchange of their possessions throughout its vast 
 
JOURNAL, J31 
 
 at a music-shop, tossed over heaps of music, bought some, and ordered 
 ^ome to be sent home for me to look over. Came home, put out tilings 
 for the theatre. Dined at three. 
 
 Received another beautiful nosegay. After dinner, went on with letter 
 
 to ; tried over my music; Heber s song that I wanted is not among 
 
 them. At six, went to the theatre. The sunset was glorious, the uprising 
 of the moon most beautiful. There is an intensity, an earnestness, about 
 ihe colour of the sky, and the light of its bright inhabitants here , that is 
 lovely and solemn, beyond any thing I ever saw. Canlialy have bright 
 er heavens than these ? surely nothing can exceed the beauty of these 
 days and nights. We were obliged to go all manner of roundabouts to 
 
 extent, can for an instant 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 inheritor of her glory : the younger England, destined to 
 perpetuate the language, the memory, the virtues, of the noble laud 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 independence 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 T 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 uniK 
 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 points of 
 insecurity, many probabilities of separations and breakings asunder; but all this 
 lies far on, and I leave it to those who have good eyes for a disiance. 
 
132 JOURNAL. 
 
 the play-house, in order to avo d the rabble that choked up the princi 
 pal 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 Pre 
 served ; my father played Jaffier. 
 
 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 electioneered carrying 
 triangular paper lanterns upon poles, with " sentiments" political scrib 
 bled thereon, which, however, I could not distinguish. Found a most 
 exquisite nosegay waiting for me at home, so sweet, so brilliant, so fra 
 grant 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. Keppel s. Heaven bless 
 the world, for a couglomeraied amalgamation of fools ! 
 
 Monday, oth. 
 
 Guy Fawkes day, and no squibs, no firing of pistols, no bonfires, nor 
 parading about of ferocious-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 were n t blown up before they passed the reform bill. 
 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 candlelight. 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 
 
JOURNAL. 133 
 
 seed of what I suspect is the wood laurel, common in this country, hut 
 unknown in ours. Started from the Mansion House (which is a very 
 nice inn, kept by the civilest of people,) at six, and reached (he 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 into 
 lerable audiences. There is an air of stability, of well-to-do, and occa 
 sionally of age, in the town, that reminds me of England. Then, as 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 
 & persuasive prophecies, 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 Dela 
 ware was singularly beautiful and fairy-like. The tints of the woods 
 were what no words can convey the slightest idea of. Now, a whole 
 tract 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 gera 
 nium. The whole land at a distance appearing to lie under an atmo 
 sphere 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 have 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 embark 
 ed on the Raritan, I had intended lying down in the cabin, and tak 
 ing 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 expres 
 sion. 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 
 
134 JOURNAL. 
 
 Colonel - -. Tasked 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 ho! low; 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 allpf a dark leaden hue. Our second landing at New York was 
 rather melancholy : shall I ever forget the first? Came up to our comfort 
 less quarters at the American ; dressed, and dined, and began 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 miserably progressing through rain and wretchedness, 
 or perhaps sticking fast in the mud. Went and took a warm bath ; came 
 home, breakfasted ; 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. 
 i n the j udgment-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 straightforlh said I would do no such thing. Peo 
 ple sitting before the curtain must not come and tell me what I am to 
 <lo 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 consi 
 deration 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 
 
JOURNAL. 135 
 
 is that of finding fault. So, all things well considered, the New York- 
 ians must e en be contented with the judgment of Miss O Neill, my 
 father, and their obedient humble servant. Worked till tea-lime; after 
 tea, wrote letters till now, bed-time. 
 
 Wednesday, 1th. 
 
 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. 
 
 At half-past one, went out with my father to walk on the Battery, 
 
 while Colonel andD went lo , 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 .wi 
 thered woods all clothed in their dark warm autumnal hues, at a dis 
 tance 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 
 have n t the most distant idea of the comforts of life in these parts. 
 Darkness, dinginess, and narrowness, were the attributes of the apart 
 ments 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 ! 
 liesohvd, that we were better off where we are, and so returned to the 
 
 American. Sketched and practised for some time longer. Mr. 
 
 called to go with 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 1 himself to death, it should seem. 
 
 He told me that Boston was the most charming town in America. 
 
136 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 cog 
 nomen, 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 exceedingly odd and dauldrummisli. I 
 think he was a litlle "how com 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 well 
 as I could, till ten o clock, when I asked him how long it was " reckon 
 ed " discreet, in this country, to prolong evening visits; whereupon he 
 arose and took his departure. 
 
 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 ac 
 tually a column of them. It was well written, for I was absolute perfec 
 tion; excepting, indeed, in one respect, the hauteur and disdain with 
 which I had treated the " 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 laugh extremely, for, as I could not help observing, " there 
 
 are real lords and ladies in my country. " () 
 
 * # * * * 
 
 ( a ) I think the pretension to pre-eminence, in the various societies of North 
 
JOURNAL. 13T7 
 
 Came to my own room, refurbished my green velvet bonnet. Tis 
 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 
 
 (he 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 
 
 Mdabella (I wish they would let me try that part) ; and when the Duke 
 
 America, is 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 en 
 quired the other day what constituted the superiority of the aristocracy in Phi 
 ladelphia, 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 impro 
 perly be termed the aristocracy of America ; but the estates of those who em 
 braced the king s cause during 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 inform 
 ed, and infinitely more polished in their manners. The few southerners witli 
 \vhomlhavebecome acquainted resemble Europeans both in their accomplish 
 ments, and the quiet and reserve of their manners. On my remarking, one day, 
 to a Philadelphia gentleman, whose general cultivation keeps pace with his poli 
 tical and financial talents, how singular the contrast was between the levelling 
 spirit of this government, and the separating and dividing spirit of American soci 
 ety, 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 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. 
 
 6. 
 
138 JOURNAL. 
 
 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. 
 
 overlook us. My father asked him in, hut he excused himself; hefore, 
 however, we were well seated, he had repented the refusal, and came 
 
 rushing back. Colonel came in, and they both of them supped 
 
 with us, discussing many matters of pith. 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 playing Yankee Doodle, 
 the national anthem of the Americans, accompanied by the tramp of a 
 considerable body of men. They took the direction of the Park, and 
 there halted, when I heard a single voice haranguing for a length of 
 lime, 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 hounden 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, Wth. 
 
 Skipped yesterday : so much Ihe belter, for though it began, like 
 May, with flowers and sunshine, 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 myself 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, tis too abominable to get up in the middle of ihe night this 
 
 fashion. At half-past six, Colonel came; and as soon as I could 
 
 persuade myself into my clothes, we set off to walk to the quay. Just as 
 we were neering the bottom of Barclay Street, the bell rang from the 
 steam-beat, lo summon all loiterers on board; and forthwith we rushed. 
 
JOURNAL. ISy 
 
 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 persons 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 as 
 cended to the first with Colonel ,and paced to and fro with infinite 
 
 zeal till breakfast-lime. The morning was grey and sad-looking, ai-id 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 (< 
 breakfast. Nobody, who has not seen it, can conceive the strange aspect 
 of the long room of one of these fine boats at meal-lime. 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 ta 
 bles, thehungry 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 re 
 gards the speed, safety, and convenience with which these vessels enable 
 one to perform what would be in any other conveyance most fatiguing 
 journeys, they are admirable inventions. The way in which they are 
 conducted, too, deserves the highest commendation. Nothing can excetd 
 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 passengers himself from the 
 steamer to the shore away darts the liny skiff, held by a rope to the 
 main boat; as soon as it grazes the land, its freight, animate and inani 
 mate, is bundled out, the boat hauls ilself back in an instant, and imme 
 diately the machine is in motion, and the vessel again bounding over the 
 
UO JOURNAL. 
 
 water like a race-horse. () Doubtless all this has many and great advan 
 tages; but to an English person, the mere circumstance of being the 
 whole day in a crowd is a nuisance. As to privacy at any time, or un 
 der 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 confined 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 pleasure in droves, and travel by swarms. (*) 
 
 * * + + * 
 
 In spite, therefore, of all ils 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 il 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 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 
 
 ( ) Of course the captain is undisputed master of the boat, and any disorders, 
 quarrels, etc., which may arise, are settled by his authority. Any passenger, guilty 
 of misbehaviour, is either confined or sent immediately on shore, no matter hc\\ 
 tar from his intended destination. I once saw very summary justice performed 
 on a troublesome fellow who was disturbing the whole society on board one of the 
 ^orth 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. 
 
 ( 2 ) 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 extremely 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. 
 
JOURNAL. 141 
 
 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 companions of a boarding-house, a steam-boat, or 
 the hotel of a fashionable watering-place, they must necessarily lose every 
 thing like reserve or bashfulness of deportment, and become free and fa 
 miliar in their manners, and noisy and unrefined in their tone and style 
 of conversation. ( ) An English girl of sixteen, put on board one of 
 
 ( J ) The manners of the young girls of America appear singularly free to 
 foreigners; and until they become better acquainted with the causes which 
 produce so unrestrained a deportment, they are liable to take disadvantageous and 
 mistaken 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 Philadelphia 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 narrow circles of these small towns, where every 
 body knows every body, the manners of the young ladies do not derive any 
 
i42 JOURNAL. 
 
 these Noah s arks (for verily there be clean and unclean beasts in them), 
 would feel and look like a scared thing. To return to our progress. 
 After losing 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 contrasted 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 h?.J become resplendent with the glo- 
 
 additional charm from the perfect self-possession which they thus acquire. 
 Shyness 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, 
 from 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 disconcerted 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," continues 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 " apjvears 
 to me more widely disseminated amongst Americans than any oilier people in 
 the world. Many things go to make good speakers of them : great acuteness,and 
 
JOURNAL. 143 
 
 rious 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 beautiful ride beyond Hoboken, which proffer was 
 
 very gratefully received by me. Colonel introduced me to an old 
 
 man of the name of . * * 
 
 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 baslifulness, and a great readiness of expression. But to return 
 to the manners of the young American girls : It is Rousseau, I think, who says, 
 " Dans mi pays ou les moeurs sont pures, les filles seront faciles, et les femmes 
 severes." This applies particularly well to the carriage of the American women. 
 When remarking to a gentleman once the difference between he 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 ihosr 
 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 themselves 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. 
 
144 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 Godsend, 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 com 
 panions drew my attention to it; and I had, pretty generally, three va 
 riations 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 " weary 
 point." Past the thick masses of wood that mark the shadowy site of 
 Sleepy Hollow. ( a ) 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 Andre s 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 triumphant 
 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 lhat 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 liny crevice, the glowing crimson 
 
 ( l } For the original this curious name, see that interesting and veracious work, 
 the history of Knickerbocker. 
 
 ( 2 ; Famous as the scene of Ichabod Crane s exploits- 
 
JOURNAL. 145 
 
 foliage of the distant woods, the fresh vivid green of the cedars, that 
 rifted their strong roots in every stony clefl, 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 English veins was poured 
 out by English hands, during the struggle between old-established 
 tyranny and the infant liberties of ihis giant world. Over all and each, 
 the blessed sky bent its blue arch, resplendently clear and bright, while 
 far away the distant summits of the Highlands rose one above another, 
 shutting in the world, and almost appearing as though each bend of the 
 river must iind us locked in their shadowy circle, without means of 
 onward progress. * * * 
 
 At every moment, the scene varied at every moment, 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 
 slands the large hotel, the favourite resort of visitors during the summer 
 season; rising again above this, the ruins of Fort Putnam, poor Andre s 
 prison-house, overlooking the Hudson an:] 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 ihe hills; where framed by the dark mountains, 
 with the sapphire stream below and the sapphire sky above, lay the bright 
 little town of Newburgh, wilh its while buildings glittering in the 
 sunshine. **.*** 
 
 We toiled up the ascent, which, though by comparison wilh its over- 
 peering 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 educated far 
 
I lO JOURNAL 
 
 the army under the superintendence of experienced officers. ( ! ) The 
 buildings, in which they reside and pursue their various studies, stand 
 upon a grassy knoll holding the top of the rocky bank of the river, and 
 commanding a most enchanting view of its course. They are not parti 
 cularly extensive, but commodious and well-ordered. I am told they 
 have a good library ; but on reaching the dwelling of Mr. Cozzens (pro 
 prietor of the hoiel, which being at this season shut, he received us most 
 hospitably and courteously 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. How 
 ever, upon finding that it wanted full an hour till dinner-time, it was 
 
 () If the results answer to the means employed, the pupils of West Point ought 
 to turn out accomplished scholars in 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. 
 However 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 multiplicity of objects of acquirement may be excused ; but surely, lo 
 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, I is the one now universally adopted, 
 and tends to give more smatterers in science than scientific men lo the world. 
 The military part of iheir education is, however, what tbe 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 artilleryn.en 
 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, generally, and of absolute precision of movement, 
 which one accustomed to the manoeuvring of regular troops detects immediately. 
 There are several large pieces of ordnance kept in tbe gun-mom, some of which 
 were taken from the English ; and I remarked a pretty little brass cannon, which 
 almost looked plaything, which bore tbe broad arrow and tbe name of Saratoga. 
 
JOURNAL iVJ 
 
 agreed lhat we should go up to the fort, and we set off under the guidance 
 of one of Mr. Cozzens servants, who had ord- rs not lo go too fast with 
 us. Before turning into the woods that cover the foot of the mountain , 
 we followed a hit 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. Theheightat which 
 we stood above the water prevented the ear being satisfied with the 
 complete subject of the musician, but the sweet broken tones that came 
 rising from the far-;!own thickets that skirled the river had more har 
 mony than a distinct and peifect strain, I stood entranced lo listen 
 the whole was ike a dream of fairy-land : but presently our guide struck 
 into the woods, and the world became screened from our sight. I had 
 thought lhat 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 pur 
 suing 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 lhat here and there 
 shone dimly in lillle hollow glens; over the soft Marry moss that told 
 where the moist earlh 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 rejoicing, climbing and climbing still, 
 till the green mound of thick turf, and ruined rampart of the fort arrest 
 ed my progress. I coasted the broken wall, and, lighting ( own on a 
 broad smooth table of granite fringed with you g re< ar bushes, I look 
 ed down, and for a moment my breath seemed lo lop, the pulsation of 
 my heart to cease I was filled with awe. The beauty and wild subli 
 mity of what I beheld seemed almost lo crush my faculties, I fell dizzy 
 as though my senses were drowning, I felt ;.s though I had been 
 carried inlo the immediate presence of God. Though I were to live a 
 thousand years, I never can fo:get it. The first thin, 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 sleep sunny side, threw a deep blackness over 
 the sparkling river, and then passed off and climbed the opposite moun- 
 
i/i* JOURNAL. 
 
 lain un the other shore, leaving- the world in the full blaze of noon. 1 
 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 ecstasy could suggest. I stood filled with amazement 
 and delight, till the footsteps ant! voices of my companions roused me. 
 
 I darted away, unwilling to be interrupted. Colonel was following 
 
 me, but t 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. My father beckoned to me 
 from above not to pursue my track; so I climbed through a break, 
 which the rocky walls of nature and the broken fortifications of art ren 
 dered 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 exclamations of delight and sur 
 prise : he then led me to the brink of the rampart ; and. looking down the 
 opposite angle of the wall to that which I -wa-s previously coasting, I 
 beheld the path I was then following break suddenly off, on the edge of a 
 precipice 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 commanding a 
 full view of the scene, sufficiently for from my parly not to hear their 
 voices, and screened from seeing them by soma beautiful young cedar 
 hushes; and here I lay down and cried most abundantly, by which 
 means I recovered my senses, which else, I think, must have forsaken 
 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 were created ! I 
 thought of my distant home ; that handful of earth thrown upon Hie 
 wide waters, whose genius has led the kingdoms of the world whose 
 children have become the possessors of (his 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 glo 
 rious hills, her name revered, her memory cherished, her fame preserv 
 ed 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 anil watvrs where her voice is heard, in the name of every 
 
JOURNAL U9 
 
 spot where her descendants have rested the soles of their feet : tins giant 
 
 inheritance of her sons, poor, poor, old England ! 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Where are the poets of this land? Why, such a world should brini: 
 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 
 he giants, too; Homers and Miltons, and Goethes and Dantes, and 
 Shakspeares. Have these glorious scenes poured no inspiring inlo 
 hearts worthy to behold and praise their beauty ? Is there none 10 come 
 here and worship among these hills and waters tiil his heart burns 
 within 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 mountains, 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 thesti 
 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 Bonder Berg for the hills, whilst the 
 Americans christen them Butter Hill, the Crow s Nest, and such like. 
 Perhaps some hundred years hence, when wealth has been amassed by 
 individuals, 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 
 so 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 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 thai, 
 men, such as the early settlers in Massachusetts, the Puritan founders of 
 New England, ths "Pilgrim Fathers," should not have had amongst 
 them some men, oral least man, in whose mind the stern and endurinii 
 courage, the fervent enthusiastic piety, the unbending love of liberty, 
 which animated them all, became the inspiration to poetic thought, and 
 the suggestion of poetical utterance. They should have had a Milton 
 
150 JOURNAL. 
 
 or a Klopstock amongst them. Yet, after all, they hail excitement of 
 another sort, and, moreover, the difficulties and dangers, and distresses 
 of a fate of unpara leled hardship, to engross all ihe energies of their 
 minds; and I am half inclined to believe that poetry is but a hothouse 
 growth, and yet I don t know : 1 wish somebody would explain to me 
 every thing in this world that I can t make out. ( ) We came down 
 
 () It might be a curious and interesting matter of research to determine under 
 
 what combination of external circumstances 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 latter 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 miserably to 
 
 perish of want. Again, the level tenor of 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 
 
 philosophy than the nVry nature of one who must know the storms of passion, 
 
 and all ihe 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 contemplation of the inanimate 
 
 beauties of nature, and the phenomena 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, tinder 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 masters, 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, and they were merely prouder and more arbitrary aristocracies tban have 
 
JOURNAL. 151 
 
 from the mountain al about half-past one : our party had been joined by 
 
 Colonel , governor of the College, who very courteously came 
 
 toiling up to Fort Putnam, to pay his compliments to us. I lingered f;ir 
 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. 1 
 loitered, and loitered, looking back 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, ami 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, yon 
 pay him, and are obliged to him besides. T is necessary therefore for a 
 stranger, but especially an Englishman, to understand the fashions of 
 (he land, else he may chance to mistake that for an impertinent familia 
 rity, 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, 
 
 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 Louis 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 repuhlicanism, 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 biblical 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 controversies, 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. 
 
152 JOURNAL 
 
 gave in the literal sense, and a very good dinner it was. He is himself 
 a very intelligent courteous person, and, during ihe 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 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 cs 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, evi 
 dently 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 
 Ihe shore opposite West Point. However, our kinsman was too late, 
 and we were already 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 Ihe horizon, where 
 a faint range of clouds lay floating like scattered rose leaves. As the (toy 
 fell, the volumes of smoke from our steam-boat chimneys 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 ss many children, I slept 
 profoundly till we reached New York, at a quarter to seven. 
 
 Saturday, l7tA. 
 
 After breakfast, wrote journal : while doing so, Mr. called to know 
 
 if I held my mind in spite of the grey look of the morning. A wan sun 
 beam just then lighted on the earth, and I said I would go; for I thought 
 by about twelve it probably would clear. 
 
JOURNAL. J55 
 
 They called for me in the carnage 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 real 
 potatuppy 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, 1 have done 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 inva 
 riably foretells rain in England. The wind blew bitterly keen and cold. 
 
 4- * * + * 
 
 Our riding party was Mr. , whom I like; Mrs. , whom I also 
 
 like, in spite of her outlandish 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 champagne. 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 (he 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 elevation of some 
 hundred feet above the river. Our path lay through tangled brakes, 
 where the withered trees and fallen red leaves, the bright cedar bushes, 
 and pale slabs of granite, formed a line and harmonious contrast of co 
 louring; the whole blending beautifully together under the grey light, 
 that made it look like one of Ruysdael s pictures. Our walk terminated 
 at a little rocky promontory, called the Devil s 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, moreover, 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 
 
15/i JOURNAL. 
 
 mounted our horses again, Mrs. complained that hers pulled her 
 
 wrists most dreadfully; and, as they seemed none of Ihe strongest, I ex 
 changed steeds with her. The lady proprietress 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 our 
 
 arms will ach to-morrow ! This worthy animal of hers had a moulh a 
 little worse than a donkey s. Arrived at the pavilion, we dismounted, 
 and swallowed 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 gelling very wet. 
 Arranged to ride on Wednesday, if fine, an,l so home. Upon the whole, 
 rather satisfied than otherwise with my expedition. Dressed for dinner 
 
 at once ; went on with journal ; Colonel called, and sat some time. 
 
 After dinner, embroidered till eight : teaed : my father went over to 
 the theatre : I practised for two hours. 
 
 Sunday, \8th. 
 
 The muscles of my arms (for I have such unlady-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 no! 
 
 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 way 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 father ; 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, recalled Mrs. 
 
 to me very forcibly. We had a very comfortable dinner an 1 even 
 ing. They went away at about half-past ten, 
 
JOURNAL i55 
 
 Monday, Wth. 
 
 After breakfast, wrote journal. Went out shopping and returning 
 
 cards; called on 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 till lime to go to the theatre. The house was very good. 
 My benefit play, Much Ado about Nothing. I played very well. I am 
 much improved in my comedy acting. Came home in a coach it 
 poured with rain. What a stupid day! The accounts of cholera in 
 New Orleans are frightful; they have the yellow fever there too. Poor 
 people ! what an awful visitation ! 
 
 Tuesday, 20M, 
 
 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, aud was delicious. The servant denied Mrs. ; 
 
 but we had hardly turned from the door when both the ladies came rush 
 ing 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 delicateand 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 whole 
 somely with good hard exercise. The pretty Mrs. looks very 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. I greatly prefer 
 her sister s looks, who certainly is not pretty, but tall and straight, and 
 healthy-looking, and springy as a young thing ought to be. Was 
 introduced to a most enchanting young Newfoundland 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 spi 
 rit, as it shines through his works, greatly. He was a pale sickly-look 
 ing man, without any thing at all remarkable in the expression of his 
 
156 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 fur the theatre. While doing so, Mr. -- and 
 Mr. and Mrs. --- called. Great discoursing about horses and horse 
 manship. Dined at three. After dinner, put fur 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 
 " 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 expedition this by the way. I played so- 
 soish. - was at the play; and at the end, somebody in the house 
 exclaimed, " Three cheers for -- ! " whereupon a mingled chorus of 
 applause and hisses aro.-;e. The Vice-president looked rather silly, and 
 acknowledged neither the one nor 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 no 
 ticed him, however; so the feeling of the pulse must have been unsatis 
 factory. 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. Game home; supped: looked at silks; chose a lovely 
 rose-coloured one to line my Portia dress; with which good deed my day 
 ended. 
 
 Wednesday. 
 
 Looked at the sun, and, satisfied with his promise, went (obed again, 
 and slept till half-past eight. After breakfast, wrote to h s honour, the 
 Recorder, an humble apology in true Old Bailey style. Wrote journal, 
 and began practising. Mrs. called before I was ou; of my ben 10 
 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 shesaid, 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 car- 
 
JOURNAL. 157 
 
 riage wailing for me. We adjourned to Warren Street, where were 
 assembled all the party. While we waited for our horses, Neptune, the 
 beautiful Newfoundland, was admitted, and amused himself hy pranc 
 ing 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. , Mrs. s brother, and Mr. , ne- 
 
 : hew, I believe, of the Irish patriot, were the equestrians of the party. 
 
 After, followed Mr. and Mrs. , all be-cuated and be-furred, in 
 
 thestanhope. After, followed the ammunition-waggon, containing a ne- 
 ero servant, Neptune, and sundry baskets of champagne, cake, and cherry 
 bounce. A way 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 
 
 disgusting," 1 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 
 considerable 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. O.ir parly separated constantly, as we progressed, into various 
 groups, but I remained chieily with Dr. , Mr. , and old Mr. 
 
 . By the by, those s area charming family; for Mrs. 
 
 sits straight in her saddle, and the Doctor settled, when we started, thai 
 
 when he had despatched his patients., he would call for D in the gig, 
 
 and comedown to meet us at (he forl. Our ride thither was extremely 
 agreeable : the day was clear, cold, and grey; a delightful day for riding. 
 1 (rotted 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 lighthouse, they sank deep, deep down. 
 
 The sea lay grey and still, without a wave or scarce a ripple. A 
 thousand light skiffs, of various shapes, lay upon the leaden waters. 
 The sky was a fine heap of heavy purple clouds, from behind 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 
 
158 JOURNAL 
 
 the whole was gloomily harmonious; and the dark shores and grey ex 
 panse of water blended solemnly with the violet-coloured curtain of the 
 heavens. We went over the fort. T is a fortification of no great size, 
 or, I should think, strength; but its posi:ion, which commands the nar 
 row entrance 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 then descended to se< k where we might 
 
 eat and be satisfied. 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. W 7 e knocked up the quarters of 
 an old woman who kept a cottage, not exactly young love s humble shed, 
 but good enough for our purpose. We got sundry logs of wood, and 
 made a blazing fire; moreover, the baskets were opened, and presently 
 we presented the interesting spectacle of a dozen people earh 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 anil Dr. in the gig. The 
 
 nice good man had kept his word, and gone to feich 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 goo;l for nothing : they would ruin any 
 horses that were good for any thing. ( ) Such unskilful horsemanship I 
 
 ( ) It is quite curious to observe how utterly unknown a thing n 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 mat 
 ters; and of my own knowledge, 1 might hunt the Union over and not find a belter. 
 As far as the make, and beauty, and disposition of the animal goes, there is no 
 fault to Gnd ; bul this lady s horse never had a woman on its back, had never 
 been ridden but with a snalfle bit, and, until she came into my possession, did 
 not know how to canter with her ri^htt oot. When the Americans say a horse 
 is well broken, they mean it, is not wild. 
 
JOURNAL 159 
 
 never saw: going full tear; crossing one another in every direction; 
 knocking up against one another; splashing through puddles because 
 they have no hand over their horses, and either overshooting their 
 point, or being 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 slay 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 condi 
 tionally, in case Mr. should fail me, which I think a very improbable 
 
 case indeed. They ordered the carriage, and Mr. persisted 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 complete ( " 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 per 
 turbation 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 unconsciously I should have been instrumental in driving 
 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 re 
 morse. Sang them Fanny Gray, and Ye Mariners of Spain. Danced 
 sundry quadrilles; and, finally, what they called a Kentucky reel, 
 which is nothing more than Sir Roger de Coverley 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 
 
160 JOURNAL. 
 
 nothing whatever in the shape of objection, I promised him never to 
 waltz again, except with a woman, or my brother. * 
 
 After all, I is not filling that a man should put his arm round one s waist, 
 whether one belongs to any one but one s self or not. T is much 
 against what I have always thought most sacred, the dignity of a wo 
 man in her own eyes and those of others. I like Dr. -- most exceed 
 ingly. 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, u 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 
 culated to excite in every honourable man s heart, not only for the indi 
 vidual object of his affections, but for her whole sex, than to see any and 
 every impertinent coxcomb in a b:ill-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 tes imony to the truth of his 
 saying. So, farewell, sweel 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 sal some lime 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 
 ft-rey pudding. I did not expect to see six people in the house ; instead 
 of which I was crowded : a satisfactory proof of our attraction. 
 
 Friday, 25ef. 
 
 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 (hem mainly, Mrs. -- particularly. While they 
 were here, Mr. --- and a man called; they stayed but a minute. By 
 ,.an(l by, in walked Mr. and Mrs. ; whereupon: the ---- departed. 
 
JOURNAL. ffll 
 
 While they were here, received from the beautiful annual he lias 
 
 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 ach 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 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 info 
 my room. * 
 
 1 was so much overset by them, that with the strange faculty [ have of 
 pouring one feeling into another, I cried so bitterly in the parting scene 
 with Clifford, that I could scarcely niter the words of my pan. 
 
 Saturday, 2!///. 
 
 Our riding expedition having been put off, the day was beautifully 
 bright and clear. Sat stitching and pottering an infinity. My feet got, 
 so perished that I did n 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 dinner- time. Lefl 
 
 a card at Mrs. - - s, and then marched down to the tailors to upbraid 
 him about my waistcoat, which is infamously ill made. () Coming 
 
 ( ) The various censures which English travellers have bestowed upon various 
 things in this country are constantly, both in private conversation and the pub 
 lic prints, attributed to English jealousy. I confess I have been am;:sed at thu 
 charge, and can only sincerely hope I may not draw down so awful an accusa 
 tion on myself, when I declare, that, during a three year* 1 residence in America, 
 
162 JOURNAL. 
 
 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 : Co 
 lonel ; 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 mul- 
 
 tis aliis. I sat by one Mr. , who talked without end, and cleverly 
 
 enough : indeed, it was rather clever to talk so wonderfully fast and much. 
 
 After dinner, the party became much larger : Dr. , Mr. , the 
 
 (ail but ), that entire self-satisfaction, Mr. , Mr. , and 
 
 the knight of the rueful countenance; three singing men, ycleped ; 
 
 and a shoal besides. One of the Mr. and Miss sang the duet in 
 
 the Didone, that dear and used to sing so loveliiy. They both 
 
 had gojd 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 f..cuily of our nature this is, this leading back of our 
 minds to the past, through the agency of our senses, arled upon by pre 
 sent influences, the renewing life, the magical summoning up of dead 
 lime fro.n 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 determination abaut 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 English ladies. 
 
 He says she is like Lady . I think she is prettier : she certainly 
 
 looks like a gem- We danced a Kentucky reel, and sundry quadrilles. 
 
 That long ens, Mr. , was tipsy, and went slithering about in a way 
 
 to kill one; and Mr. was sUing slyly in the corner, pretending to 
 
 almost every article, of every description, which I have had made, has been ill 
 .made, and obliged to undergo manifold alterations. I don t pretend 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. 
 
JOURNAL. J63 
 
 talk to D , but in fact dying with laughter at poor , who mean 
 dered 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. Remained dancing till half- 
 pa,st 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 tradespeople here are really terrible; they can do nothing-, 
 and will take no pains to do any thing : t is a handsome gown spoilt. () 
 
 Sunday, 2 
 
 My dear father s birth-day ! also, by the by, a granil 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 thankfulness. Went to church : Dr. did 
 
 ( ) When you carry your complaint of careless work, or want of punctuality, 
 to the tradespeople whom you employ here, the unfortunate principals really 
 excite your sympathy by their helpless situation with regard to the free republi 
 cans whom they employ, and who, with the utter contempt of subordination 
 which the cheapness of living, and the spirit of license (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 themselves off to new 
 masters, secure of employment in your neighbour s house, if your mode of em 
 ploying them displeases 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 
 \vas as suffering for shoes as a lady could be, I could not have mine till the political 
 cobblers in his employ bad settled tbe "business of the nation" to their satisfac 
 tion. Patience is the ouly remedy. Whoever lives here, that has ever lived 
 elsewhere, should come provided with it. 
 
not preach, which was a disappointment to me. The music was 
 exquisite; and there was a beaut ful graceful willow branch, with its 
 long delicate fibres and golden leaves, waving against the blue sky 
 and the church window, that seemed to me like a magical branch 
 in a fairy tale. It siruck 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 Lave other authority 
 for callirg 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 parly. 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 lurch, set out with my father to fetch a walk; which we 
 did to the tune of near six mil* s, 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 net a very large assembly 
 round him, and we stood in the crowd to hear him. By his own ac 
 count, he had been imprisoned before for a similar proceeding; and 
 lie was denouncing, most vehemently, signal judgments on the blind 
 and wicked corporation who had so stopped the work of righteousness. 
 The man s face was a very fine one, remarkably intelligent and 
 handsome : he was cleanly and well dressed, and had altogether a 
 respectable 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-iete dinner. After which, played on the piano for some 
 lime; after which, began lellcr to II ; after wh u h, wrote journal. 
 
 Mor.dvy, 26t//. 
 
 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 thankfulness at the 
 departure of the British, they qs ietly went to church, and praised God 
 for that same. To-day, however, we have had firing of pop-^uns, 
 waving of star-spangled banners (s me of them rather the won e for 
 wear), infantry marching through the streets, cavalry (oh, Lord, what 
 
JOURNAL. 165 
 
 delicious oljecls 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 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 memoiy ; 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 bad caps of one fashion, and 
 some of another; some had no caps at all, but " shocking bad lials," with 
 feathers in them. () The infantry were, however, comparatively re 
 spectable troops. They did not march many degrees out of the straight 
 
 line, or stoop foo much, or trrn their heads round too often. Mr. 
 
 remarked, that militia were seldom more steady and orderly in their 
 appearance. But the cava ry ! oh, the cavalry ! what gems without price 
 
 { ) This description may amaze sundry narrow-minded and prejudiced dwellers 
 in those unhappy countries where standing armies are among the standing abuses, 
 and the miserable stipendiaries of hoary tyrannies goahout 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 
 nd free republic 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 peculiar carriage, a particular dress, obedience to superiors, 
 and observance of rules, these, indeed, may all be the attributes of such misera 
 ble creatures as are content to receive wages for their blood. But for free Ame 
 ricans! 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? and why, since they chose to defend 
 their lives and liberties by becoming volunteers, should they not slick any fea 
 thers, of any colours that tht y 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 j-rove their entire comp?.- 
 tibililv. 
 
166 JOURNAL 
 
 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, arid proving beyond a 
 doubt how formidable they must appear to the enemy, when, with the 
 most peaceable 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 ctowd, 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 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 iVIacheath 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 clejoie. ( ) 
 
 ( ) The militia has fallen into disrepute of late in New York and Philadel 
 phia. Trainings and parades take too much of the precious time, whose minutes 
 are cents, and hours dollars. The only instance of humour, national or indivi 
 dual, 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 Ihe absurd 
 and monstrous objects the men had made of themselves, with false whiskers, 
 beards, and noses, I recognised some of the broad, coarse, powerful humour ut 
 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 imagination, of course, is also 
 the absolute absence of humour. An American can no more understand a 
 
JOURNAL. 167 
 
 The bands of these worthies were worthy of them; half a dozen lifers 
 and drummers playing old English jig tunes. In spite of the folly and 
 injustice 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, lean only say tluir appearance approached the 
 sublime, by as near as the French critic assures us the extreme of the 
 
 ridiculous does. Dined at three ; and called after dinner. 
 
 My father went with Mr. to Tammany Hall, ( ) where Ihere 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 holiday audience 
 shrieking, shouting, laughing, and rowing, like one of our own 
 Christmas audiences. 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 beautiful 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 himself, 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 delightful, and I 
 dare say we should find our stay there amusing and agreeable enough. 
 I wish we could do it. 
 
 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 incomprehen 
 sible to your auditors, who will stare at your enthusiasm, and sincerely ask you 
 the meaning of your jest. 
 
 ( ) A place devoted to political meetings, chiefly, however, I believe, those 
 termed here "democratic." 
 
168 JOURNAL. 
 
 Tuesday, SI th. 
 
 After breakfast, Colonel called. Put out things for to-night. 
 
 M 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 intolerable, 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, ami shores, 
 and beautiful bright bay, were smiling in perfect loveliness. A deli 
 cious fresh breeze came wandering over the wide estuary ; and graceful 
 boats, with their full sails glittering in the sun, glided lo and fro, swift 
 anil strong, over the smooth waters, like summer clouds across the 
 blue heavens as silently, as rapidly, as tracklessly. () 
 
 Came home at half-past one. Found a card from Mrs. - , I m 
 sorry I did n t. see her. - c.illed, with one Mr. - , kii-sman lo the 
 authoress. * * * 
 
 While they were here, Mrs. called to settle about to-morrow s 
 
 ride. Mr. and Mrs. arriving, the rest departed. We dined at 
 three. After dinner, came to my own room; wrote journal; went on 
 
 with letter to . At half-; ast five, went to the theatre. Play, the 
 
 Gamester; my father s benefit; the house was very good. I played pretty 
 
 well. Mr. thoroughly bothered me, by standing six yards behind 
 
 me : what a complete stroller s trick that is. So we are to act on Satur 
 day. 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 
 
 .( ) It is the property of perfection alone to rivet the admiration of absolute 
 ignorance; whence I conclude lhat the river craft, hovering from morning till 
 night along the waters that surround New York, must be tbe most beautiful 
 in the world. Their lightness, grace, swiftness and strength, appear to me 
 unequalled. Such beautiful vessels I ne\ersaw; more beautiful ones I cannot 
 imagine. 
 
JOURNAL. 169 
 
 hear this new prima donna. Mr. was behind the scenes, and 
 
 trrci/)*, in his usual seat : he s a delightful bit of audience. Received 
 a bill of the intended performances for Thursday, Mr. - s benefit; 
 and such another farce 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 unnatural ! " What a vulgar wretch the man must be ! 
 
 Wednesday, 
 
 Mary -- s wedding day ! Poor lassie ! I looked at the bright morn 
 ing 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 tho 
 rough work-day world as this. I cried a good deal over some of this 
 man s verses. I thought some of them beautiful; and t is the properly 
 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 lone 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 remember 
 when first I recited Juliet to my mother, she said I spoke the balcony 
 
 ( ) In Canova s group of Cupid and Psyohe, 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. 
 
 8 
 
170 JOURNAL. 
 
 scene almost sadly. Was not such deep, deep love too strong, loo 
 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 ? 
 However, perhaps, I do but see through my own medium, and fancy it 
 the universal one. My eyes are dark, arid mo>t things look darkly 
 through 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. - s father-in- 
 law, Dr. . The day was still and grey a pleasant day; there was 
 
 no sunshine, but neither were there any dark shadows. My horse 
 had been ill ridden by somebody or another, and was mighty disagree 
 able. 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 autumnal afternoon. Came in at a little past four. 
 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 answering, and always give them "the truth, the 
 whole truth, and nothing but the truth, " it follows that nothing can be 
 more disagreeable than their queries, except my replies. Mr. 
 
 ( ) The ladies of New York, and all lady-like people there, have agreed 
 to call this eddy /fr/r/-gate. The superior propriety 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. J71 
 
 was there; I like him : he has something in him, and is not vulgar or 
 impertinent. Was introduced to a very handsome French Creole wo 
 man, ( ) whom I liked : she reminded me of my mother, and her son 
 
 bore a striking resemblance to dear . We stood tip 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 aliout, explaining, jost 
 ling, and awkward blundering. ( a ) I took greatly to the governess of 
 the family, a German woman, wilh a right German face, a nice person, 
 with quiet simple manners. The women s voices here distract me; so 
 loud, so rapid, and wilh 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, bst for 
 their style of dress, and those said tremendous shrill loud voices, (s) 
 
 Came home at twelve o clock. My favourite aversion, Mrs. , was 
 
 there. 
 
 (>) 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. 
 
 ( a ) 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 sa 
 tisfactory hours ever since it was invented, by no means satisfies the Americans. 
 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 en ?" some en avail t 
 deux-ing, while others are starling off en promenade, the whole being a complete 
 confusion of purpose and execution. The common French figure, the Trenis, is 
 very seldom danced at all, they do not appear to know it. 
 
 (3) 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 
 
172 JOURNAL 
 
 Thursday , 
 My birth-clay * * 
 
 After breakfast, sat writing to dear for some time. Put out things 
 
 for the theatre, and went lo rehearsal. My father has received a most 
 comical note from one , a Scotch gardener, florist, and seeds 
 man; the original, by the by, of Gall s Lawrie Todd, and original 
 enough he must be. The note expresses a great desire that my father 
 and myself will call upon him, for that he wishes very much to look at 
 us that the hours of the theatre are too late for him, and that besides, 
 he wants to see us as ourselves, and not as *" kings and princesses. " I 
 have entreated my father to go : this man must be worth knowing. I 
 shall certainly keep his note. After rehearsal, came home. Wrote to 
 
 , lo dear . Mr. called; also Colonel , who gave an 
 
 account of the proceedings of the committee for s benefit, which, 
 
 added to the gentleman s own note to my father, thoroughly disgusted 
 me. And here I do solemnly swear, never again, with my own good 
 will, to become acquainted with any man in any way connected with 
 the public press. They are utterly unreliable people, generally; their 
 vocation requires that they should be so ; and the very few exceptions I 
 must forego, for however I might like them, I can neither respect nor 
 approve of their trade; for trade it is in the vilest sense of the word. 
 
 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 uproar 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 proceed 
 ings is exactly according to my ideas of good breeding. 
 
JOURNAL 
 
 Dined at five. After dinner Mr. and Mrs. came in. 
 
 At eight, went to the theatre. The house was, in consequence of the 
 raised prices, only three parts full. I just caught a glimpse of Forrest 
 in the fourth act of Brutus. What an enormous man he is! After the 
 play came sundry songs and recitations, and then Katharine and Petru- 
 chio. I did not play well : the actors were very inattentive, as well as 
 stupid, and annoyed my father very much. The pit was half filled with 
 women, opera fashion, who, for the greater attraction of the night, and 
 satisfaction of themselves, were allowed to sit out of their proper places : 
 to be sure they had the pleasure of the society of the volunteer heroes, 
 
 who, for the benefit of Mr. , were all in full uniform. What an 
 
 absurdity! Swallowed an ice. Saw , also Mr. , and young 
 
 behind the scenes. Game home and supped. Colonel called, 
 
 and discussed, first, the farce on the boards; then the farce before the 
 curtain ; finally, the farce of life, which,, to my mind, is but a melancholy 
 one. 
 
 Friday, 30f/j. 
 
 How the time goes! Bless the old traveller, how he posts along! 
 
 After breakfast, Mrs. and her son, and Mr. called. I like the 
 
 latter; his manners are very good, and he is altogether more like a 
 gentleman than most men here. When they were gone, walked out 
 
 with my father to s. The day was grey, and cold, and damp a 
 
 real November day, such as we know them. We held the good man s 
 note, and steered our course by it, and in process of lime entered a 
 garden, passed through a green-house, and arrived in an immense and 
 most singularly-arranged seed-shop, with galleries running round it, and 
 the voice of a hundred canaries resounding through it. I don t know 
 why, but it reminded me of a place in the Arabian Nights. " Is 
 
 Mr. within?" shouted forth my father, seeing no one in this 
 
 strange-looking abode. "Yes, he is," was replied from somewhere, 
 by somebody. We looked about, and presently, with his little grey 
 bullet head, and shrewd piercing eyes, just appearing above the counter, 
 we detected the master of the house. My father stepped up to him with 
 an air like the Duke of , and, returning his coarse curiously-folded 
 
1"4 JOURNAL. 
 
 note to him, said, "I presume I am addressing Mr. : this, sir," 
 
 drawing me forward, "is Miss Fanny Kemble." The little man 
 snatched off his spectacles, rushed round the counter, rubbed his 
 enormous hand upon his blue stuff apron, and held it out to us with a 
 most hearty welcome. He looked at us for some time, and then 
 exclaimed, " Ha ! ye re her father. Well, ye 11 have married pretty 
 early ye look very young : I should not have been sae much surprised 
 if ye had called her ye re wife!" I laughed, and my father smiled at 
 this compliment, which was recommended by a broad Scotch twang, 
 which always sounds sweetly in my ears. The little man, whose appear 
 ance is that of a dwarf in some fairy tale, then went on to tell us how 
 Gait had written a book all about him ; how it was, almost word for 
 word, his own story; how he had come to this country in early life, with 
 three halfpence in his pocket, and a nail and hammer in his hand, for 
 all worldly substance; how lie had earned his bread by making nails, 
 which was his business in Scotland; how, one day, passing by some 
 flowers exposed for sale, he had touched a geranium leaf by accident, 
 and, charmed with its fragrance, bought it, having never seen one before; 
 how, with fifteen dollars in his pocket, he commenced the business of a 
 florist and gardener; and how he had refused as many thousand dollars 
 for his present prosperous concern; how, when he first came to New 
 York, the place opposite his garden, where now stands a handsome 
 modern dwelling-house, was the site of a shed where he did his first bit 
 of work; how, after six -and -twenty years absence from Scotland, he 
 returned home; how he came to his father s house " T was on a bright 
 morning in August the eighth of August, just, it was when I went 
 through the door. I knew all the old passages so well : I opened the 
 parlour door, and there, according to the good old Scottish custom, the 
 family were going to prayers afore breakfast. There was the old Bible 
 on the table, and the old clock ticking in the corner of the room ; there 
 was my father in his own old chair, exactly just where I had left him 
 six-and-twenty years gone by. The very shovel and tongs by the fire 
 were the same; I knew them all. I just sat down, and cried as sweetly 
 as ever a man did in his life." These were, as nearly as I can recollect, 
 his words; and oh, what a story ! His manner, too, was indescribably 
 vivid iind graphic. My father s eyes filled with tears. He stretched out 
 his hand, and grasped and shook the Scotchman s hand repeatedly 
 
JOURNAL. 175 
 
 without speaking; I never saw him more, excited. I never was more 
 struck myself with the wonderful strangeness of this bewildering life. 
 He showed us the foot of a rude rustic-looking table. " Thai," he said, 
 " was cut from oul the hawthorn hedge that grows by my father s house; 
 and this," showing us a wooden bowl, " is what I take my p irritch in !" 
 I asked him if he never meant to leave this country, and return to bonny 
 Scotland. He said, No, never : he might return, but he never meant 
 to settle any where but here. " For," added he, " I have grown what 
 I am in it, madam, and t is a fine country for the poor." He had been 
 an early martyr, too, to his political opinions; and, when only nineteen 
 years of age, had been imprisoned in Edinburgh for advocating the 
 cause of that very reform which the people are at this moment crying 
 jubilee over in England. He seemed to rejoice in this country, as in the 
 wide common land of political freedom, unbounded by the limits of 
 long-established prejudice, unbroken by the deep trenches which divide 
 class from class in the cultivated soil of the old world. I could have 
 listened to this strange oracle for a clay; but in the midst of his discourse 
 he was summoned to dinner; and presenting his son to us, who presented 
 a nosegay to me, left us to wander about his singular domain. His 
 father, by the by, is still alive, and residing within six miles of Edin 
 burgh, a man of ninety years and upwards. We walked about the shop, 
 visited the birds, who are taken most admirable care of, and are ex 
 tremely beautiful. I saw several mocking birds : they should sing well, 
 for they are not pretty. Their plumage is of a dull grey colour, and they 
 are clumsy-looking birds.( ) Saw two beautiful African widow birds, 
 with their jet black hoods and trains. Saw an English blackbird, and 
 thrush, in cages. They made my heart ach. I wonder if they ever 
 think of the red ripe cracking cherries, the rich orchard lands, and the 
 hawthorn-hedged lanes in the summer sunsets of dear England ? I did for 
 them. We then went and looked at a tank full of beautiful gold fish, as 
 they indiscriminately called them. But though the greater number 
 were the glittering scarlet creatures usually so denominated, some were 
 
 ( ) Unromautic as these birds are in their external appearance, there is 
 something poetical in their love of sunny skies. Many attempts have been made 
 to rear them in England; but I am told that they will not sing there, 01 indeed 
 any where but where the sun shines as it does here. 
 
176 JOURNAL . 
 
 of the richest purple, with a soft dark bloom playing over (heir sides ; 
 others, again, were perfectly brown, with a glancing golden light shining 
 through their scales; others were palest silver; others, again, mingled 
 the dazzling scarlet with spots of the most beautiful gloomy violet, like 
 dark-coloured jewels set in fire. Their tank was planted with the roots 
 of aquatic vegetables, which, in summer, spread their cool leaves over 
 the water, which is perpetually renewed by means of an escape, and 
 a litlle silvery fountain which keeps bubbling up in the midst. They 
 seemed very happy, and devoured sundry pieces of wafer paper, while 
 we admired them at our leisure. Saw an India-rubber tree, a very 
 young one, which had not attained its full growth. T is a fine broad- 
 leaved tree, unlike any that I ever saw before. After dawdling about 
 very satisfactorily for some time, we departed from the dwelling of 
 Lawrie Todd. Of a verity, " truth is strange, stranger than fiction." 
 
 Went to a bookseller s. I bought a Bible for little ; my father, 
 
 a Shakspeare for . Came home. Mr. called, and gossiped 
 
 some time with me. Told me a bit of scandal, of which I had some 
 
 slight suspicion before, i.e. that Mr. was pretty Mrs. s very 
 
 devoted. A t half-past four dressed for dinner. Colonel called just 
 
 as we were going to dinner. At five, my father and I went to Mrs. s. 
 
 A pleasant dinner. I like him enough, and I like her very much. She 
 
 is extremely pretty, and very pleasant. Sat by that tall ninny, Mr. , 
 
 who uttered inanity the whole of dinner-time. After dinner, the usual 
 entertaining half hour among the ladies passed in looking over caricatures. 
 
 When the men joined us, Mr. came and sat down by me, and in 
 
 the course of a few minutes, poor Lord having by chance been 
 
 mentioned, we fell into English talk ; and it appears that he knows 
 
 sundry of my gracious patrons; among the rest, the s. He had 
 
 been at ; and it pleased me to speak of it again. But what in the 
 
 name of all wonders could possess him with the idea that Lady was 
 
 guilty of editing the Comic Annual. Was asked to sing, and sang 
 
 " Ah no ben mio" pretty well. Mr. sang a thing of his own very 
 
 well, though it was not in itself worth much. Discussed all manner of 
 
 prima donnas with him. At half-past nine, D came for me , and we 
 
 proceeded to the s. The people here never tell one when they 
 
 mean to dance ; the consequence is, that one is completely put out about 
 one s toilet. I was in a black satin dress ; and dancing in these hot rooms. 
 
JOURNAL. 177 
 
 might as well have been in a pall. 
 
 In the middle of the evening, Dr. asked if I would allow him to 
 
 introduce to me one Mr. , a very delightful man, full of abilities, 
 
 and writer in such and such a paper. I immediately called to mind my 
 
 resolution, and refused. In the mean time, Mrs. , less scrupulous, 
 
 and without asking my leave, brought the gentleman up, and introduced 
 him. I was most ungracious and forbidding, and meant to be so. I am 
 
 sorry for this, but I cannot help it : he is s brother, too, which 
 
 makes me doubly sorry. As he is n agreeable man, and s brother, 
 
 I esteem and reverence him; but, as he belongs to the press gang, I will 
 not know him. The room was full of pretty women, one prettier than 
 another. I danced myself half dead, and came home. By the by, was 
 introduced to young , who, at the corner of a street, with a red cap 
 on his head, might pass for a capital hickory pole. Mrs. s bed 
 room, where we left our cloaks, made my heart ach. T was exactly 
 like my dear little bed-room at home; the bed, the furniture, and the 
 rose-coloured lining, all the same, 
 
 Saturday, December \st, 1832. 
 
 First day of the last month of the year go it, old fellow ! I m sick 
 of the road, and would be at my journey s end. Got two hundred dol 
 lars from my father, and immediately after breakfast sallied forth : paid 
 bills and visits, and came home. Found my father sitting with our 
 
 kinsman, Mr. , busily discussing the family origin, root, branches, 
 
 and all. We are an old family, they say, but the direct line is lost after 
 Charles the Second s reign. Our kinsman is a nice man, with a remark 
 ably fine face, with which I was greatly struck. When he was gone, 
 persuaded my father to come down and take a breathing on the Battery 
 with me. And a breathing it was with a vengeance. The wind blew 
 tempestuously, the waters, all troubled and rough, were of a yellow 
 green colour, breaking into short, strong, angry waves, whose glittering 
 white crests the wind carried away, as they sank to the level surface 
 again. The shores were all cold, distinct, sharp-cut, and wintry-looking, 
 the sky w;is black and gloomy, with now and then a watery wan sunlight 
 running through it. The wind was so powerful, w r e could scarcely keep 
 
175 JOURNAL. 
 
 our legs. My sleeves and skirls fluttered in the blast, my bonnet was 
 turned front part behind, my nose was blue, my cheeks were crimson, 
 my hair was all tangled, my breath was gone, my blood was in a glow : 
 
 what a walk! Met dear Dr. , whom I love. Came in dined. 
 
 After dinner, bethought me that I had not called upon Mrs. , accord 
 ing to promise. Sent for a coach, and set forth thither ; did n t know 
 the number, so drove up Spring Street, and down Spring Street, and 
 finally stopped at a shop, got a directory, and found the address. Sat a 
 few 7 minutes with her, and at five o clock left her. The day was already 
 gone the gloamin come. The keen cutting wind whizzed along the 
 streets; huge masses of dark cloudy with soft brown edges, lay on the 
 pale delicate blue of the evening sky. The moon was up, clear, cold, 
 and radiant ; the crowd had ebbed away from the busy thoroughfare, and 
 only a few men in great-coats buttoned up to their chins, and women 
 wrapped in cloaks, were scudding along in the dim twilight and the bitter 
 wind towards their several destinations, with a frozen shuddering look 
 that made me laugh. I had got perished in the coach, and seeing that 
 the darkness covered me, determined to walk home, and bade the coach 
 follow me. How pleasant it was ! I walked tremendously fast, enjoying 
 the fresh brealh of the north, and looking at the glittering moon, as she 
 rode high in the evening sky. How I do like walking alone being 
 alone ; for this alone I wish I were a man. At half-past five, went to 
 the theatre. The house was crammed ; play, Hunchback. I missed 
 
 from his accustomed seat, and found that like a very politician he 
 
 had changed sides. I played abominably ; my voice was weak and fagged. 
 After the play, Katharine and Pelruchio. I played that better ; my 
 father was admirable it went off delightfully. When it was over, 
 they called for my father, and with me in his hand he went on. The 
 pit rose to us like Christians, and shouted and hallooed as I have been 
 used to hear. I felt sorry to leave them : they are a pleasant audience 
 to act to, and exceedingly civil to us, and I have got rather attached to 
 them. New York, too, seems nearer home than any other place, and 
 I felt sorry to leave it. When w f e had withdrawn, and were going up 
 stairs, we heard three distinct and tremendous cheers. On asking what 
 that meant, we learnt t was a compliment to us thank em kindly. 
 
 Came home : found Mr. had sent me Contarini Fleming. Began 
 
 reading it, and could scarce eat my supper for doing so, 
 
JOURNAL . 179 
 
 Sunday, 3d. 
 
 While dressing, received a "sweet note" from Mrs. , accom 
 panied with a volume of Bryant s poetry, which, as I like very much, 
 I am her obliged. Swallowed two moulhfuls of bread, and away to 
 church. It was very crowded, and a worthy woman had taken posses 
 sion of the corner seat in Mr. s pew, with a fidgetting little child, 
 
 which she kept dancing up and down every two minutes : though in 
 church, I wished for the days of King Herod. What strange thoughts did 
 occur to me to-day during service ! T is the first Sunday in Advent. 
 The lesson for the day contained the history of the Annunciation. What 
 a mystery our belief is ! how seldom it is that we consider and, as it were, 
 take hold of what we say we believe, and when we do so, how bewil 
 dered and lost we become, how lost among a thousand wild imagina 
 tions, how driven to and fro by a thousand doubts, how wrecked 
 amidst a thousand fears ! Surely we should be humble : we should 
 indeed remember that we cannot know, and not strive for that knowledge 
 which our souls will lose themselves in seeking for, and our overstrained 
 minds crack in reaching at. * * * 
 
 At the end of service they sang Luther s hymn. I cried with nervous 
 excitement, nol at that, but at my recollection of Braham s singing it 
 with that terrible trumpet accompaniment, that used to make my heart 
 stand still and listen. Stayed and took the sacrament. 
 
 Came home : found a whole regiment of men. His honour the Re 
 corder, who is my especial delight, Mr. , , whom I greatly affec 
 tion j to these presently entered Mr. and Mr. . They one by 
 
 one bade me good-by ; how disagreeable that is, that good-by ! Mr. 
 read me a passage out of one of Jeffrey s letters, describing an English 
 fine lady. The picture is admirable, and mo.st faithful ; they are, indeed, 
 polished, brilliant, smooth as ice, as slippery, as treacherous, as cold. 
 When they were all gone, Colonel gave me to read the descrip- 
 
ISO JOURNAL. 
 
 live sketch of the French opera, La Tentation, that has been setting all 
 Paris wild. What an atrocious piece of blasphemy, indecency, and folly 
 what a thoroughly French invention. Mad people ! mad people ! mad 
 people ! Looked over bills, settled accounts, righted desk, tore up 
 papers; among others, sundry anonymous love-letters that I had trea 
 sured up as specimens of the purely funny in composition, but which 
 began to take up too much room. Dressed for dinner. After dinner, 
 sat writing journal , and reading Conlarini Fleming. 
 
 Monday, 5d. 
 
 Rose at half-past four. The sky was black as death, but in the night 
 winter had dropped his mantle on the: earth, and there it lay, cold, and 
 purely white, against the inky sky. Dressed : crammed away all the 
 gleanings of the packing, and in thaw, and sleet, and rain, drove down 
 to the steam-boat. Went directly to the cabin. On my way thither, 
 managed to fall down half-a-dozen steep steps, and give myself as many 
 bruises. I was picked up and led to a bed, where I slept profoundly till 
 
 breakfast time. Our kinsman, Mr. , was our fellow-passenger : I 
 
 like him mainly. After breakfast, returned to my crib. As I was re 
 moving Gontarini Fleming, in order to lie down, a lady said to me, "Let 
 me look at one of those books ; and, without further word of question of 
 or acknowledgment, look it from my hand, and began reading. I was a 
 little surprised, but said nothing, and went to sleep. Presently I was 
 roused by a pull on the shoulder, and another lady, rather more civil, 
 and particularly considerate, asked me to do her the favour of lending her 
 the other. I said, by all manner of means, wished her at the devil, and 
 turned round to sleep once more. Arrived at Amboy, we disembarked 
 and bundled ourselves into our coach, ourselves, our namesake, and a 
 pretty quiet lady, who was going, in much heaviness of heart, to see a 
 sick child. The roads were unspeakable; the day most delightfully 
 disagreeable. My bruises made the saltatory movements of our crazy 
 conveyance doubly torturing; in short, all things were the perfection of 
 misery. I attempted to read, but found it utterly impossible to do so. 
 Arrived at the Delaware, we took boat again ; and, as I was sitting very 
 quietly reading Contarini Fleming, with the second volume lying on the 
 
JOURNAL. 181 
 
 stool at my feet, the same unceremonious lady who had borrowed it be 
 fore snatched it up without addressing a single syllable to me, read as 
 long as she pleased, and threw it down again in the same style when she 
 went to dinner. Now I know that half the people here, if they were to 
 read that in Mrs. Trollope, would say, "Oh, but you know she could 
 not have been a lady , t is not fair to judge of our manners by the vulgar 
 specimens of American society which a steam-boat may afford." Very 
 true : but granting that she was not a lady (which she certainly was not), 
 supposing her to have been a housemaid, or any thing else of equal pre 
 tensions to good breeding, the way to judge is by comparing her, 
 not with ladies in other countries, but with housemaids, persons in her 
 own condition of life; and tis most certain that no person whatsoever, how 
 ever ignorant, low, or vulgar, in England, would have done such a thing 
 asthat. But the mixture of the republican feeling of equality peculiar to this 
 country, and the usual want of refinement common to the lower classes 
 of most countries, forms a singularly felicitous union of impudence and 
 vulgarity, to be met with no where but in America. () Arrived at the 
 
 ( ) In speaking of the bad and disagreeable results of the political institutions 
 of this country, as exhibited in the feelings and manners of the lower orders, I 
 have every where dwelt upon those which, from my own disposition, and the 
 opinions and sentiments in which I have been educated, have struck me most, 
 and most unfavourably. But I should be sorry to be so blind, or so prejudiced, 
 as not to perceive the great moral goods which arise from the very same source, 
 and display themselves strongly in the same class of people : honesty and truth, 
 excellences so great, that the most bigoted worshipper of the forms and divisions 
 of societies in the old world would surely be ashamed to weigh them in the 
 balance against the deference there paid to rank or riches, or even the real and 
 very agreeable qualities of civility and courtesy. Americans (I speak now of 
 the people, not the gentlemen and ladies, they are neither so honest and true, 
 nor quite so rude,) are indeed independent. Every man that will work a little 
 can live extremely well. No portion of the country is yet overstocked with 
 followers of trades, not even the Atlantic cities. Living is cheap labour is 
 dear. To conclude, as the Irish woman said, " It is a darling country for poor 
 folks; for if I woik three clays in the week, can t I lie in my bed the other three 
 if I plase? " This being "so, all dealings between handicraftsmen and those who 
 employ them ; tradesmen and those who buy of them; servants and those who are 
 served by them ; arc conducted upon the most entire system of reciprocity of 
 
182 JOURNAL. 
 
 Mansion House, which I was quite glad to see again. Installed myself 
 in a room, and, while they brought in the packages, finished Contarini 
 
 advantage ; indeed, if any thing, the obligation appears always to lie on that party 
 which, with us, is generally supposed to confer it. Thus, my shoemaker, a 
 person with whom I have now dealt largely for two years, said to me the other 
 day, upon my remonstrating about being obliged regularly to come to his shop 
 and unboot, whenever I order a new pair of walking-boots " Well, ma am, we 
 can keep your measure certainly, to oblige you, but, as a rule, we don t do it for 
 any of our customers, it s so very troublesome." These people are, then, as I 
 said before, most truly independent ; they are therefore never servile, and but 
 seldom civil, but for the very same reason they do not rob you; they do not need 
 to do so ; neither do they lie to you, for your favour or displeasure in no way 
 affects their interest. If you entrust to their care materials of any sort to make 
 up, you are sure, no matter how long you may leave tbem in their hands, or how 
 entirely you may have forgotten the quantity originally given, to have every inch 
 of them returned to you : and you are also generally sure that any question you 
 ask, with regard to the quality of what you purchase, will be answered without 
 any endeavour to impose upon you, or palm upon your ignorance that which is 
 worse for that which is better. Two circumstances, which have come under my 
 own knowledge, will serve to illustrate the spirit of the people; and they are 
 good illustrations to quote, for similar circumstances are of daily and hourly 
 occurrence. 
 
 A farmer who is in the habit of calling at our house on his way to market, 
 with eggs, poultry, etc., being questioned as to whether the eggs were new-laid, 
 replied, without an instant s hesitation, " No, not the very fresh ones, we eat nil 
 those ourselves? 
 
 On returning home late from the play one night, I could not find my slippers 
 any where, and, after some useless searching, performed my toilet for bed without 
 them. The next morning, on enquiring of my maid if she knew any thing of 
 them, she replied with perfect equanimity, that having walked home through the 
 snow, and got her feet extremely wet, she had put them on, and forgotten to 
 restore them to their place before my return. Nobody, I think, will doubt that 
 an English farmer, and an English servant, might sell stale eggs, and use their 
 mistress s slippers; but I think it highly doubtful, that either fact would have 
 been acknowledged with such perfect honesty any where but here. As to the 
 servants here, except the blacks, and the poor Irish bread-hunters who come over, 
 
JOURNAL. 183 
 
 Fleming. It reminded me of Combes book : I wonder whether he is 
 turning phrenologist at all ? those physiological principles were the bosom 
 friends of the Combes phrenological ones. Stowed away my things, 
 made a delicious huge wood fire, dressed myself, and went down to din 
 ner. Our kinsman dined with us. Mr. came in while we were 
 
 at dinner. After dinner, came up to my room, continued unpacking 
 and pulling away my tilings till near nine o clock. When we weiti down 
 to tea, my father was lying on the sofa asleep, and a man was silting 
 with his back to the door, reading the newspaper. He looked up as we 
 
 came in : it was , whom I greatly rejoiced to see again. During tea, 
 
 he told us all the Philadelphia gossip. So the ladies are all gelling up 
 
 upon horses, and wearing the " Kemble cap," as they call Lady s 
 
 device. How she would laugh if she could hear it; how I did laugh 
 when I did hear it. The Kemble cap, forsooth ! thus it is thai great 
 originators loo often lose the fame of their inventions, and that, the glory 
 of a new idea passes by the head that conceived it, (o encircle, as with a 
 halo, that of some mere imitator ; thus il is thai this very big world comes 
 to be called America, and nol Columbia, as il ought io; thus il is elc., 
 etc., elc., He sal for some lime. Saw poor Mrs. . 
 
 She is heller, poor thing ; I like her amazingly. 
 
 Tuesday, 4th. 
 
 After breakfast practised for Iwo hours. - called and slayed some 
 lime. Came up to my own room ; wrote journal : while doing so a note 
 
 containing I wo cards, and an invitation to " lea," from the Miss s 
 
 was brought lo me. Presently I was called down lo receive our kinsman, 
 who sal some time with me, whom I like most especially, who is a gen 
 tleman, and a very nice person. Came up and resumed my journal : was 
 again summoned down to see young Mr. . 
 
 there are scarcely any to he found : the very name seems repugnant to an Ame 
 rican ; and however high their wages, and easy their situation, they seem hardly 
 to be able to endure the bitterness of subserviency and subordination. 
 
184 JOURNAL. 
 
 When he was gone, finished journal, wrote to Mrs. , to my mo 
 ther, read a canlo in Dante, and began to write a novel. Dined at five. 
 A fter dinner, put out things for this evening, played on the piano, mended 
 habit shirt, dressed myself, and at a quarter to ten went to the theatre 
 for my father. I had on the same dress I wore at Devonshire House, 
 the night of the last ball I was at in England, and looked at myself in 
 amazement, to think of all the strangenesses that have befallen since then. 
 
 We proceeded to Miss s, and this tea-party turned out to be a very 
 
 crowded dance, in small rooms upon carpels, and with a roasting fire. 
 Was introduced to all the world and his wife. Dr. claimed ac 
 quaintance with us, and danced with me : I like his manners very much. 
 I have beheld Miss , and should doubtless now depart in peace. 
 
 Lord ! Lord ! what fools men and women do make themselves. Was in 
 troduced to oneMr. ,Mr. s partner, whom I received graciously 
 
 for the sake of ihe good days on board the Pacific. Came away at a little 
 after twelve. I never felt any thing like the heat of the rooms, or heard 
 any thing so strange as the questions the people ask one, or saw any 
 thing more lovely than the full moonlight on the marble buildings of 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 Wednesday, bth. 
 
 After breakfast, practised : Mr. and Mrs. called, also Dr. . 
 
 Went and saw poor Mrs. for a little time; she interests me most 
 
 extremely I like her very very much. Game up to my own room; 
 read a canto of Dante. Was called down to see folk, and found the 
 drawing-room literally thronged. The first face I made out was Mr. 
 
 - s, for whom I have taken an especial love : two ladies, a whole load 
 
 of men, and Mr. , who had brought me a curious piece of ma 
 
 chinery, in the shape of a musical box, to look at. It contained a little 
 bird, no larger than a large fly, with golden and purple wings, and a 
 tiny white beak. On the b;>x being wound up, this little creature flew 
 out, and, perching itself on the brink of a gold basin, began fluttering its 
 wings, opening its beak, and uttering sundry very melodious warblings, 
 in the midst of which, it sank suddenly down, and disappeared, the lid 
 closed, and there was an end. What a pity tis that we can only realise 
 
JOURNAL. 185 
 
 fairy-land through the means of machinery. One reason why there is 
 no such thing left as the believing faculty among men, is because they 
 have themselves learnt to make magic, and perform miracles. When 
 the coast was once more clear, I returned to my room, got out things for 
 
 the theatre, dined tete-a-tete with D ; my father dined at the public 
 
 table. After dinner, came up stairs, read Grahame, wrote journal, 
 began my novel under another shape. I can t write prose 5 (query, can 
 I any thing else?) I don t know how, but my sentences are the comical - 
 est things in the world- the end forgets the beginning, and the whole is 
 a perfect labyrinth of parenthesis within parenthesis. Perhaps, by the 
 by, without other view, it would be just as well if I exercised myself a 
 little in writing my own language, as the grammar hath it, "with ele 
 gance and propriety." At half-past five, went to the theatre. The play 
 was Romeo and Juliet; the house not good. Mr. played Romeo. 
 
 ! acted like a wretch, of course ; how could I do otherwise ? Oh, Juliet ! 
 vision of the south ! rose of the garden of the earth ! was this the glorious 
 hymn that Shakspeare hallowed to your praise ? was this the mingled 
 strain of Love s sweet going forth, and Death s dark victory , over which 
 my heart and soul have been poured out in wonder and ecstasy ? How 
 I do loathe the stage ! these wretched, tawdry, glittering rags, flung over 
 the breathing forms of ideal loveliness; these miserable, poor, and pitiful 
 substitutes for the glories with which poetry has invested her magni 
 ficent and fair creations the glories with which our imagination 
 reflects them back again. What a mass of wretched mumming mimicry 
 acting is ! Pasteboard and paint, for the thick breathing orange groves 
 of the south; green silk and oiled parchment, for the solemn splendour 
 of her noon of night; wooden platforms and canvass curtains, for the 
 solid marble balconies and rich dark draperies of Juliet s sleeping-cham 
 ber, that shrine of love and beauty ; rouge, for the startled life-blood in 
 the cheek of that young passionate woman; an actress, a mimicker, a 
 sham creature, me, in fact, or any other one, for that loveliest and 
 most wonderful conception, in which all that is true in nature, and all 
 that is exquisite in fancy, are moulded into a living form. To act this ! 
 to act Romeo and Juliet ! horror ! horror ! how I do loathe my mflst 
 impotent and unpoetical craft ! 
 
 8, 
 
186 JOURNAL. 
 
 In the last scene of the play, I was so mad with the mode in which all 
 
 the preceding ones had been perpetrated, that, lying over Mr. s 
 
 corpse, and fumbling for his dagger, which I could not find, I, Juliet, 
 thus apostrophised him, Romeo being dead "why, where the devil is 
 
 your dagger, Mr. !" What a disgusting travesty. On my return 
 
 home, I expressed my entire determination to my father to perform the 
 farce of Romeo and Juliet no more. Why, it s an absolute shame that one 
 of Shakspeare s plays should be thus turned into a mockery. I received 
 
 a note from young Mr. , accompanied by a very curious nosegay in 
 
 shells; a poor substitute for the breathing, fresh, rosy flowers he used 
 to furnish me with, when I was last here. 
 
 Thursday, 6th. 
 
 The morning wasbeautifully bright and warm, like a May morning in 
 England. After breakfast, practised for two hours : while doing so, was 
 
 interrupted by Mr. , who came to bid us good-by. He was going 
 
 on to New York, and thence to England. 
 
 He sat some time. When he was gone, and I had finished my practis 
 ing, came up to my own room. Was summoned thence to see my 
 kinsman, who sat some time with me, and whom I like of all things. 
 He makes it out (for he seems a great meddler in these matters) that we 
 are originally Italian people, pirates by name, Gampo Bello; the same 
 family as the Scottish Campbells; the same family as the Norman 
 Beauchamps : how I only wish it were true ! I have, and always have 
 had, the greatest love and veneration for old blood ; I would rather by 
 far have some barbarous Saxon giant to my ancestor, than all the wealth 
 of the earth to my dower. I parted from my friend with much regret ; 
 he has won my heart fairly. When he was gone, came up to my own 
 room. The day was brilliant and unclouded; and, as I looked into the 
 serene blue sky, my spirit longed for wings. 
 
 Dr. called this morning, and interested me by a long account of 
 
JOURNAL. J87 
 
 Webster ; in the course of which, however, he gave me, if possible, 
 a stronger distaste than I had before to the form of government in this 
 country, from various results which he enumerated as inevitably belong 
 ing to it. Read a canto in Dante : it consoles me to read my Italian, 
 and forget for a time all that is. 
 
 I sal watching the glorious sunset, as it came redly streaming into my 
 room, touching every thing with glory, and shining through my hair 
 upon my book. It suggested to me a picture; and I wrote one for 
 
 Mrs. , who had been consulting me about a costume in which to sit 
 
 for her portrait. Dined at live : my father dined out. After dinner, 
 sat writing journal till ten, when he returned. The moon was shining 
 soft and full, and he asked me if I would take a walk. I bonneted and 
 booted, and we sallied forth to theSchuylkill. The moon withdrew herself 
 behind a veil of thin white clouds, but left a grey clear light over the 
 earth, and through the sky. We reached the Fair Mount bridge at about 
 eleven. The turnpike was fast, and every body asleep, so we climbed 
 over the gate, and very deliberately pursued our way through the 
 strange dark-looking covered bridge, where the glimmering lamps, at 
 distant intervals, threw the crossing beams and rafters into momentary 
 brightness, that had a strange effect contrasted with the surrounding 
 gloom. ( ) We reached the other side, and, turning off from the road, 
 began climbing the hill opposite the breakwater. The road was muddy 
 in the valley with heavy rains; and unwilling to wade through the dirt, 
 we clambered along a paling for several yards, and so escaped the mire. 
 My father steered for the grassy knoll just opposite Fair Mount; and 
 there, screened by a thicket of young cedar bushes, with the river 
 breaking over the broad dam far below us, and the shadowy banks on 
 the other side melting away in the soft grey light, we sat down on a 
 tree trunk. Here we remained for upwards of a quarter of an hour 
 without uttering a syllable; indeed, we had not spoken three words since 
 
 ( : ) The bridges here are all made of wood, and for the most part covered. 
 Those which are so are by no means unpicturesque objects. The oiie-avched 
 bridge at Fair Mount is particularly light and graceful in its appearance : at a little 
 distance, it looks like a scarf, rounded by the wind, flung over the river. 
 
488 JOURNAL. 
 
 we set out. My father was thinking, I presume, of something ; I, 
 
 of the day of judgment when these thick forests, and wide strong 
 waters, like a shrivelled scroll, are to hum to ashes before the coming of 
 God s justice. We were disturbed by a large white spaniel dog, who, 
 coming down from among the cedar bushes, reminded me of the old 
 witch stories, and Faust. We arose to depart, and took our way towards 
 the Market Street bridge, along the banks of the river. The broken 
 notes of a bugle-horn came at intervals across the sleeping waters from 
 the opposite shore, where shone reflected the few lingering lights from 
 the houses that hail not yet shut up for the night. The moon, faintly 
 struggling through the clouds, now touched the dark pyramids of the 
 cedar trees thai rose up into the grey sky, and threw our shadows on the 
 lonely path we were pursuing, now cast a pale gleam through the rapid 
 clouds that chased one another like dreams across the sky. The air was 
 sofl and balmy as the niglit air of mid August. The world was still; 
 and, except our footfalls, as we trudged along, no sound disturbed the 
 universal repose. We did not reach home till half-past twelve. As we 
 walked down Market Street, through the long ranges of casks, the only 
 creatures stirring, except some melancholy night-loving cat, my father 
 said very calmly, " How I do wish I had a gimlet. " - "What 
 f or ?" "What fun it would be to pierce every one of these barrels." 
 For a gentleman of his years, this appeared to me rather a juvenile 
 prompting of Satan; and as I laughingly expostulated on the wickedness 
 of such a proceeding, he replied with much innocence, " I don t think 
 they M ever suspect me of having done it;" and truly I don t think they 
 would. Game home, and to bed. That was a curious fancy of my 
 father s. 
 
 A PICTURE. 
 
 Through the half open d casement streamed the light 
 Of The departing sun. The golden haze 
 Of the red western sky fell warm and bright 
 Into lhat chamber large and lone : the blaze 
 Touch d slantingly curtain and couch, and threw 
 A glory over many an antique gem, 
 Won from the entombed cities that once grew 
 At the volcano s foot. Mingled with them 
 
JOURNAL. 189 
 
 Slood crystal bowls, through which the broken ray 
 
 Fell like a shower of precious stones, and lay 
 
 Reflected upon marble ; these were crown d 
 
 With blushing flowers, fresh and glittering yet 
 
 With diamond rain-drops. On the crimson ground 
 
 A shining volume, clasp d with gold and jet, 
 
 And broken petals of a passion-flower 
 
 Lay by the lady of this silent bower. 
 
 Her rippling hair fell from her pearly round 
 
 That strove to clasp its billowy curls : the light 
 
 Hung like a glory on their waves of gold. 
 
 Her velvet robe, in many a violet fold, 
 
 Like the dark pansy s downy leaf, was bound 
 
 With a gold zone, and clasp d with jewels bright, 
 
 That glow d and glanced as with a magic flame 
 
 Whene er her measured breathing stirr d her frame. 
 
 Upon her breast and shoulders lay a veil 
 
 Of curious needle-work, as pure and pale 
 
 As a fine web of ivory, wrought with care, 
 
 Through which her snowy skin show d smooth and fair. 
 
 Upon the hand lhat propp d her drooping head, 
 
 A precious emerald, like a fairy well, 
 
 Gleam d with dark solemn lustre ; a rich thread 
 
 Of rare round pearls such as old legends tell 
 
 The Egyptian queen pledged to her Roman lord, 
 
 When in her cup a kingdom s price she pour d, 
 
 Circled each soft white arm. A painter well 
 
 Might have been glad to look upon her face, 
 
 For it was full of beauty, truth, and grace ; 
 
 And from her lustrous eyes her spirit shone 
 
 Serene, and strong, and still, as from a throne. 
 
 Friday, 7th. 
 
 A break. Found in the breakfast-room. The morning was very 
 
 impropitious; bull settled to ride at one, if it was tolerably fine then. 
 He remained pottering a long lime: when he was gone, practised, hubil- 
 ed, went in, for a few minutes, to Mrs. . At one the horses came; 
 
190 JOURNAL. 
 
 but mine was brought without a stirrup, so we had to wait, Lord knows 
 how long, till the blundering groom had ridden back for it. At length 
 we mounted. "Handsome is that handsome does, is verity; and, 
 therefore, pretty as was my steed, I wished its good looks and itself at 
 the devil, before I was halfway down Chestnut Street. It pranced, and 
 danced, and backed me once right upon the pavement. We took the 
 Laurel Hill road. The day was the perfection of gloom the road six 
 inches deep in heavy mud. We walked the whole way out ! my father 
 got the cramp, and lost his temper. At Laurel Hill we dismounted, 
 and walked down to the river side. How melancholy it all looked ! the 
 turbid rhubarby water, the skeleton woods, the grey sky, and far wind 
 ing away of the dark rocky shores; yet it was fine even in this gloom, 
 and wonderfully still. The clouds did not move,- the water had not 
 the faintest ripple, the trees did not stir a branch; the most perfect 
 
 and profound trance seemed to have fallen upon every thing. and 
 
 I scrambled down the rocks towards the water, expatiating on the capa 
 bilities of this place, which was once a country-seat, and with very little 
 expense might be made a very enchanting as well as a very comfortable 
 residence ; always excepting, of course, the chance of fever and ague 
 during the summer months, when the whole of the banks of the Schuyl- 
 kill, high and rocky as they are, are considered so unhealthy, that the 
 inhabitants are obliged to leave their houses until the winter season, 
 when the country naturally loses half its attractions. At half-past ihree, 
 we mounted, and, crossing the river, returned home by a much better 
 road. My horse, however, was decidedly a brute, pulled my arms to 
 pieces, cantered with the wrong leg foremost, trotted in a sort of scut 
 tling fashion, that rendered it utterly impossible to rise in the stirrup, 
 and, instead of walking, jogged the breath out of my body. I was fairly 
 
 done up when we reached home. Dressed, and dined ; dined with 
 
 us. After dinner, went and sat with Mrs. . So it seems Carolina 
 
 is in a state of convulsion. Reports have arrived that the Nullifiers and 
 Unionists have had a fight in Charleston, and that lives have been iosto 
 " Bide a wee," as Hie Scotchman says; we talk a good deal on the other 
 side the water of matters that are far enough off; but as for America, 
 the problem is not yet solved and this very crisis (a more important 
 one than has yet occurred in the political existence of this country) is 
 threatening to slacken the bonds of brotherhood between the states, and 
 
JOURNAL 101 
 
 shake the Union to its centre. The interests of the northern states are 
 totally different from, and in some respects opposite to, those of the 
 southern ones. * 
 
 The tariff question is the point in debate; and the Carolinians have, 
 it seems, threatened to secede from the Union in consequence of the po 
 licy pursued with regard to that. I was horrified at Dr. - s account 
 
 of the state of the negroes in the south. To teach a slave to read or 
 write is to incur a penalty either of fine or imprisonment. They form 
 the larger proportion of the population, by far ; and so great is the dread 
 of insurrection on the part of the white inhabitants, that they are kept 
 in the most brutish ignorance, and too often treated with the most brutal 
 barbarity, in order to insure their subjection. Oh ! what a breaking 
 asunder of old manacles there will be, some of these fine days ; what a 
 fearful rising of the black flood ; what a sweeping away, as by a torrent, 
 of oppressions and tyrannies ; what a fierce and horrible retaliation and 
 revenge for wrong so long endured so wickedly inflicted. When I 
 
 came in to tea, at half-past, eight, found Dr. there. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 When he was gone, sang a song or two, like a crow in the quinsy. 
 
 Wednesday, \2th. 
 
 After breakfast, went to rehearsal; after rehearsal, went to - s. 
 It poured with rain. Came home; put out things for the theatre; prac 
 tised for an hour; finished letter to ; wrote journal; dined at three. 
 
 After dinner, went and sat with Mrs. . Sang to her all my old 
 
 Scotch ballads ; read the first act of the Hunchback to her. At half-past 
 five, went to the theatre. Play, King John; house good : I played hor 
 ribly. My voice, too, was tired with my exertions, and cracked most 
 awfully in the midst of u thunder," which was rather bad. 
 
 [ had finished early, and came home in my dress in order (o show it to 
 Mrs. . She was just gone to bed, but admitted me. 
 
192 JOURNAL. 
 
 Sat talking to her until my father came home. So " Old Hickory" 
 means to lick the refractory southerns : why they are coming to a civil 
 war! However, the grumblers have n t the means of fighting without 
 emancipating and arming their slaves. That they will not and dare not 
 do ; the consequence will be, I suppose, that they will swallow the affront, 
 and submit. 
 
 Thursday, 45th. 
 
 While dressing, had the pleasure of witnessing from my window a 
 satisfactory sample of the innate benevolence, gentleness, and humanity 
 of our nature : a child of about five years old, dragging a cat by a string 
 tied to its throat round and round a yard, till the poor beast ceased to 
 use its paws, and suffered itself to be trailed along the ground, after 
 which the little fiend set his feet upon it, and stamped and kicked it most 
 brutally. The blood came into my face; and, though almost too far for 
 hearing, I threw up the sash, and at the top of my voice apostrophised 
 the little wretch with " Hollo there ! wicked, naughty boy ! * He seemed 
 much puzzled to discover whence this appeal proceeded, but not at all 
 at a loss to apply it ; for, after looking about with a very conscience- 
 stricken visage, he rushed into the house, dragging his victim with him. 
 I came down, fairly sick, to breakfast. After despatching it, I put on my 
 bonnet and walked round to the house where this scene had taken place. 
 I enquired for the child, describing his appearance, and he was presently 
 brought to me ; when I sat down at the foot of the stairs in the hall, and 
 spent some time in expatiating on the enormity of such proceedings to 
 the little ruffian, who, it seems, has frequently been corrected for similar 
 ferocities before. I fear my preachment will not avail much. Came 
 home, put room to rights, practised for an hour ; got ready, and dawdled 
 
 about most dreadfully, waiting for D , who had gone out with my 
 
 father. At half-past twelve, set off with her to the riding-school. Tl 
 was full of women in long calico skirts, and gay bonnets with flaunting 
 feathers, riding like wretches; some cantering, some trotting, some 
 walking crossing one another, passing one anolher in away that would 
 have filled the soul of Fossard with grief anl amazement. I put on a 
 skirt and my riding-cap, and mounted a rough, rugged, besweated 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 white-brown beast, that looked like an old trunk more than any 
 else, its coat standing literally on end, like "quills upon Hie fretful por 
 cupine," with heat and ill condition. T is vain attempting to ride like 
 a Christian on these heathen horses, which are neither broken, bitted, 
 nor bridled properly; and poor dumb creturs have no more idea of what 
 a horse ought to be, or how a horse ought to behave, than so many cows. 
 My hair, presently, with the damp and the shaking, became perfectly 
 straight. As I raised my head, after putting it up under my cap, I 
 
 beheld - earnestly discoursing to D . I asked for Tuesday s 
 
 charger; and the school having by degrees got empty, I managed to be 
 come a little better acquainted with its ways and means. T is a pretty 
 little creature, but t is not half broken, is horribly ill ridden, and will 
 never be good for any thing what a pity ! At two o clock I dismount 
 ed : walked home with us. Went in to see Mrs. : she seemed 
 
 a good deal belter, I thought; sat some time with her. Mr. has 
 
 sent me back my book of manuscript music : played and sang half through 
 it. Game to my room; tried on dresses for Lady Macbeth, and the 
 Wonder, and dressed for dinner. My father dined out. After dinner, 
 
 went in to see Mrs. . Sat some time with her mother, her chicks, 
 
 and her young doctor of a cousin, who is quite a civilised mortal. Poor 
 
 Mrs. was too ill to see me. Came to the drawing-room, wrote 
 
 journal, played and sang till lea-time. After tea, read the history of 
 Knickerbocker, whereat I was like to have died, through the greate 
 merrimente its rare and excellente pleasantries did cause in me, inso- 
 nuiche that I lay on the sofa screaming, very much like one lunaticke. 
 
 Friday, \4th. 
 
 After breakfast, put out things for the theatre. Practised for an hour ; 
 read and marked the Comedy of Errors, which is really great fun : 
 perhaps not funnier than Amphytrion,but the subject is more agreeable 
 a good deal. Read a canto in Dante; got ready for the riding-school ; 
 
 found and Mr. in the drawing-room. As we were going out. 
 
 the gentlemen did not remain long. When they were gone, D and 
 
 I set off for the riding-school. We were hardly there before made 
 
 his appearance : I wonder what he ll do for an interest, by the by, when 
 we are gone. - f 
 
19/i JOURNAL. 
 
 The school was quite empty, so we had it all to ourselves. D mounted 
 
 tip upon a detestable shambling brute, that wouldn t go no how. I hart 
 a fancy for making my little fiery charger leap over the bar, and made 
 
 Mr. put it clown for me. The beast had no idea of such saltatory 
 
 proceedings, and jerked himself over it three times most abominably. 
 The fourth lime I pushed him at it, he jumped, and I jumped too, out of 
 the saddle on to my feet, having lighted down very comfortably at the 
 horse s head with the reins in my hand, neither hurt nor frightened. 
 This is the first time a horse ever had me off. I got on again, but declined 
 
 leaping any more. At a quarter to three we returned home. 
 
 walked with ns. At the corner of Sansom Street, met young . 
 
 Heaven bless from a challenge ! Came home ; dined : after dinner, 
 
 went in and sat with Mrs. till coffee-time. Showed her my dresses, 
 
 and read her a scene or two of the Hunchback. Went to the theatre at 
 half-past five. Play, the Hunchback the house was literally crammed . 
 I played very well, except being out in my town scene an unwonted 
 occurrence with me. After the play, came home, supped, and read the 
 Wonder, which I thought wondrous dull. 
 
 Saturday, \Sth. 
 
 If I were to write a history of Philadelphia, according to the profound 
 spirit of investigation for which modern tourists are remarkable, I should 
 say that it was a peculiarity belonging to its climate, that Saturday is 
 invariably a wet day. At twelve, went to rehearsal, after putting out 
 
 things for the theatre. Had a long talk with Mr. about Pasta, the 
 
 divine, the only reality that ever I beheld that was as fair, as grand, 
 as glorious as an imaginary being. Shall I ever forget that woman in 
 Medea ? I am thankful I have seen her. After rehearsal, called at Mr 
 
 s. Saw and carried off his head of me in Juliet. Certainly the 
 
 resemblance between myself and Mrs. Siddons must be very strong ; for 
 this painting might almost have been taken for a copy of Harlowe s sketch 
 of my aunt in Lady Macbeth : tis very strange and unaccountable. 
 
 Came home ; wrote journal : went and sat with Mrs. till dinner-time. 
 
 After dinner, went and sat with her again till coffee-time. Was intro 
 duced to Dr. , whom I liked very much. 
 
JOURNAL. 195 
 
 Showed her my dress and my bracelets. Had a long discussion about 
 the precedence of one lady before anoiher among the nobility of European 
 courts, whereat her republican pride seemed highly offended. If Clay 
 
 die?, as Dr. describes, pass before tilled men, at a dinner in England, 
 
 with his hands in his breeches pockets, it only follows thence that he 
 was really ill bred, and would be thought vulgar if he did it unwittingly, 
 and absurd if he did it intentionally. Went to the theatre at half-past 
 five. The house was wonderful, considering the weather : the play was 
 Fazio. I played pretty well : my dress was splendid. 
 
 Sunday, \6th. 
 
 Had only time to swallow a mouthful of breakfast, and off to ch;:rch; 
 where I heard about as thorough a cock and bull sermon as ever T hope 
 to be edified withal. What shameful nonsense the man talked! and all 
 the time pretending (o tell us what God had done, what he was doing, 
 and what he intended to do next, as if he went up into heaven and saw 
 what was going on there, every five minutes. Came home; sat with 
 Mrs. for a long time : I am very fond of her. 
 
 Came to my own room, and studied Yiolante till dinner-time. How 
 tiresome this pointless prose is to batter into one s head. After dinner, 
 
 went and sat with Mrs. till near tea-time, when I came to the 
 
 drawing-room. Presently, Mr. and Mr. called, also Dr. . 
 
 I went to my father s room to apprise him of this invasion of the Goths, 
 and found him very unwell, and labouring under a severe cold. He 
 would not come down; so D and I had to entertain these interesting- 
 youths what fashion we best might. She gave them tea, and I gave 
 them music, till half-past ten, when they departed. 
 
 Monday, nth. 
 
 It poured with rain like the very mischief: a sort of continual gushing 
 down from the clouds, combining all the vehemence of a thunder shower 
 with all the pertinacity of one of our own November drizzles delightful ! 
 Went to rehearse Macbeth. Had a delightful palaver with Mr. , 
 
190 JOUKNAL. 
 
 \vho knows all the music that ever was writ, and all the singers that ever 
 sang, and worships Pasta as I do. Game home; put out things for the 
 
 theatre: dined at three. After dinner, went and sat with Mrs. till 
 
 coffee -time. At half-past five, went to the theatre. In spite of the rain, 
 the house was very full ; and in all my life I never saw so large an 
 assembly of people so perfectly and breathlessly still as they were during 
 several of our scenes. I played like a very clever girl as I am ; but it 
 was about as much like Lady Macbeth as the Great Mogul. My father 
 laboured his part too much. 
 
 Tuesday, \Sth. 
 
 Received letters; one from dear , and one from . They did 
 
 as letters from England always do by me, threw me into a perfect 
 nervous fever. * * * * 
 
 After breakfast, went to rehearse the Wonder. Called in on my way 
 
 on Mr. , who is painting a portrait of my father Saw one or two 
 
 lovely women s pictures. I wish he would go to England : I think it 
 would answer his purpose very well. At two, went to the riding-school : 
 rode till half-past three. The day was bitter cold, with a piercing wicked 
 
 wind riding through the grey sky. D and I walked to pay sundry 
 
 calls. Met , whom we had not seen for two or three days a most 
 
 unusual circumstance. He walked home with us. D and I dined 
 
 tc ie-a-icie. On returning home, I found a most lovely nosegay of real, 
 delicious, fragrant flowers. Sweet crimson buds of the faint-breathing 
 monthly rose; bright vivid dark green myrtle ; the honey Daphne Odora, 
 with its clusters of pinky-white blossoms; and the delicate bells of the 
 lall white jasmine, all sweet, and living, and fresh, as at midsummer: 
 
 I was blissful ! After dinner, I went in to Mrs. . Came back to the 
 
 drawing-room. , who had taken the hint about our being alone 
 
 in the evening, came in. I began making him sing, and taught him the 
 Leaf and the Fountain : his voice sounded like when we were nearer home. 
 
 Presently Mr. was announced. He was the author of the flowers. 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 Wednesday, I9t/i 
 
 *ifier breakfast, caiied. 
 
 Went to rehearsal, afterwards, to the riding-school. The school 
 was quite empty, and I ;done. The boy brought me my horse, and I 
 mounted by means of a chair. As I was cantering along, amusing my 
 self with cogitations various, - - came in. He stayed the whole lime 
 I rode. I settled with him about riding to-morrow, and came home to 
 dinner. After dinner, went in to see Mrs. - - : Dr. - - was there, 
 who is a remarkably nice man. She is a very delightful person, with a 
 great deal of intellect, and a wonderful quantity of fortitude and piety, 
 and a total absence of knowledge of the world, except through books. 
 
 Her children enchant me, and her care of them enchants me too. 
 She is an excellent person, with a heart overflowing with the very best 
 affections our nature is capable of, fulfilled, I think, to the uttermost. 
 
 Stayed with her till time to 2:0 to the theatre. The house w.;s very 
 full : the play was the Wonder my first time of acting Violante. My 
 dress was not finished till the very 1; st moment, and then, oh, horror! 
 AVOS so small that 1 could not get into it. It had to be pinned upon me; 
 and thus bebundled, with the dread of cracking my bodice from top to 
 boitom every time I moved, and the utter impossibility of drawing my 
 breath, from the narrow dimensions into which it squeezed me, I went 
 on to play a new part. The consequence was that I acted infamously, 
 and for the first time in my lifewas horribly imperfect out myself and 
 putting every body else out. Between every scene my unlucky gown 
 had to be pinned together; and in the laughing scene, it took the hint 
 from my admirable performance, and facetiously grinned in an ecstasy 
 of amusement till it was fairly open behind, displaying, T suppose, the 
 lacing of my stays, like so many teeth, to the admiring gaze of the 
 audience ; for, as I was perfectly ignorant of the circumstance, with my 
 usual easy nonchalance, I persisted in turning my back to the folk, in 
 
198 JOURNAL. 
 
 spile of all my father s pulls and pushes, which, as I did not comprehend, 
 I did not by any means second either. -- was at the play, also Dr. 
 -- , also Henry Clay, who was received with cheers and plaudits 
 manifold. Came home in my dress, and went in to show it to Mrs. -- 
 and her mother, who were both in bed, but marvellously edified by my 
 appearance. 
 
 Thursday, 
 
 The day was beautifully brilliant, clear, and cold winter, but winter 
 in dazzling array of sunshine and crystal; blue skies, with light feathery 
 streaks of white clouds running through them; dry, crisp, hard roads, 
 with the delicate rime tipping all the ruts with sparkling jewellery; and 
 the waters fresh, and bright, and curling under the keen breath of the 
 arrow-like wind. After breakfast, ---- called. Walked out with him 
 to get a cap and whip for D -- . The latter he insisted on making her 
 a present of, and a very pretty one indeed it was, with a delicate ivory 
 handle, and a charming persuading lash. Went in for a short time to 
 Mrs.- -- , who entertained herself with letting all my hair down about 
 my ears, and pulling it all manner of ways. At twelve habited, and 
 helped to equip (leap D -- , who really looked exceedingly nice in her 
 jockey habiliments. Went to the school, where we found -- waiting 
 for us. Mounted and set forth. We rode out to Laurel Hill. The 
 road was not very good, but no mud ; and the warm gleesome sunlight 
 fell mellowly over the lovely undulations of the land, wil.li their patches 
 of green cedar trees, and threadbare cioak of leafless woods, through 
 which the little birds were careering merrily, as the reviving sunshine 
 came glowingly down upon the world, like a warm blessing. Passed 
 that bright youth, Mr. -- , on the road, riding very like an ass on 
 horseback. When we reached Laurel Hill, we dismounted, lied up the 
 horses, slacked their girths, and walked first up to that interesting wood 
 en monument, where I inscribed my initials on our first ride thither. 
 Afterwards, -- and I scrambled down ihe rocks to the river side ? 
 which D -- declined doing, cause vy? she d have had to climb up 
 again. The water was like a broad dazzling river of light, and had a 
 beautiful effect, winding away in brightness that the eye could scarce 
 endure, between ils banks, which, contrasted by the sunny stream, and 
 blue transparent sky, appeared perfectly black, As I bent over a fine 
 
JOURNAL W9 
 
 bluff (as they here call any mass of rock standing isolated), I espied 
 below me a natural rocky arch, overhanging the river, all glittering 
 
 with pure long diamond icicles. Thither convoyed me, and broke 
 
 off one of these winlry gems for me. It measured about two feet long, 
 and was as thick at the root as my wrist. I never saw any thing so 
 beautiful as ihese pendant adornments of the silver-fingered ice god. 
 Toiled up to the house again, where, after brushing our habits, we re 
 mounted our chargers, and came home. The river was most beautiful 
 towards the bridge that they are building : the unfinished piers of which 
 have a very pretty effect, almost resembling their very opposite, a ruin. 
 The thin pale vapour of the steam-engine, employed in some of the 
 works, rising torn the blue waler, and rolling its graceful waves far 
 along the dark rocky shore, haJ a lovely fairy-like look, which even 
 
 drew forth the admiration of , who, from sundry expressions which 
 
 have occasionally fallen from him, I suspect to be rather well endowed 
 with ideality. Reached home at half-past four. My father dined out. 
 
 It was past s dinner-time ; so we invited him to stay and dine with 
 
 us. After dinner, we fell somehow or another into a profound theolo 
 gical discussion ; suddenly proposing for my solution the mysterious 
 
 doctrine of the inherent sin of our nature, and its accompanying doom, 
 death, inherited from one man s sin, and one man s punishment. I 
 .am not foud of discoursing upon these subjects. Tis long since I have 
 arrived at the conviction that the less we suffer our thoughts to dwell 
 upon what is vague and mysterious in our most mysterious faith, 
 and the more we confine our attention and our efforts to that part 
 of it wjiich is practical and clear as the noon-day, the better it will be 
 for our minds here, and our souls hereafter. Surely they are not 
 wise who seek to penetrate the unfathomed counsels of God, whilst 
 their own natures, moral, mental, nay, even physical, have depths 
 
 beyond the sounding of their plummet line. spoke in perfect 
 
 sincerity and simplicity of the difficulty he found in believing that which 
 was so " hard a saying;" and, as there was not the slightest particle of 
 levity or ridicule in his manner, I spoke as earnestly as I felt and always 
 feel upon this subject, very strenuously advising him not to strain his 
 comprehension upon matters which baffle human endeavour, which, 
 after all our wanderings and weary explorings, still lead us back to the 
 wide boundless waste of uncertainty ; concluding by exhorting him to 
 
200 JOURNAL. 
 
 read his Bible, say his prayers, and go to church if he could, or, if he 
 could not, at all events to he as good as he could. While we were at 
 
 lea, young and Dr. came in. They put me down to the 
 
 piano, and I continued to sing unlil past eleven o clock, when, somebody 
 looking at a watch, (here was a universal exclamation of surprise, the 
 piano was shut down, the candles put out, the gentlemen vanished, and 
 I came to bed. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 I saw him on his throne, far in the north. 
 
 Him ye call Winter, picturing him ever 
 
 An aged man, whose frame, with palsied shiver, 
 
 Bends o er the fiery element, his foe. 
 
 But him I saw was a young god, whose brow 
 
 Was crown d with jagged icicles, and forth 
 
 Ffom his keen spirit-like eyes there shone a light, 
 
 Broad, glaring, and intensely cold and bright. 
 
 His breath, like sharp-edged arrows, pierced the air; 
 
 The naked earth crouch d shuddering at his feet ;, 
 
 His finger on ail murmuring waters sweet 
 
 Lay icily, motion nor sound was there; 
 
 Nature seem d frozen dead; and still and slow 
 
 A winding-sheet fell o er her features fair, 
 
 Flaky and white, from his wide wings cf snow. 
 
 I am sorry to find that I must skip Friday and Saturday, thereby 
 
 omitting an account of an interesting ball at Mrs. s, where the floors 
 
 were duly chalked, the music very good, the women very lovely, and 
 where I fell in again with my dear kinsman, whom I love devotedly, 
 and whom I jumped half across a quadrille to greet with extended 
 hands, which must greatly have edified the whole assembly. Likewise 
 I must skip a most interesting account, of a second polemical conversa 
 tion with ; in the course of which, to my great amazement, he ma 
 naged to introduce a most vehement abuse of Dr. , whose admira 
 tion of my singing appears to have troubled him fully as much as the 
 doctrine of original sin, together with many other things worthy of 
 note, which shall now die in oblivion, and the times return unenlighten 
 ed to their graves. 
 
JOURNAL. 201 
 
 Sunday, 23d. 
 
 Was only dressed in time to swallow two mouthfuls of breakfast, and 
 get ready for church. - came to know at what time we wotdd ride, 
 and walked with us to the church door. * 
 
 After church, came home, habited 5 went and sat with Mrs. till 
 
 half-past one. The villanous servants did not think fit to announce the 
 horses till they had been at the door full half an hour, so that when we 
 
 started it was near iwo o clock. D seemed quite at her ease upon 
 
 her gangling charger, and I had gotten up upon Mr. s big horse, to 
 
 see what I could make of him. The dy was beautifully bright and 
 clear, with a warm blessed sunshine causing the wintry world to smile. 
 We had proceeded more than halfway to Laurel Hill without event, 
 when, driving my heavy-shouldered brute at a bank, instead of lifting 
 up his feet, he thought fit to stumble, fall, a; id fling me very comfortably 
 off upon the mound. I sprang up neither hurt nor frightened, shook 
 my habit, tightened my girths, and mounted again; when we set off, 
 much refreshed by this little incident, which occasioned a world of 
 mirth and many saucy speeches from my companions to me. At Laurel 
 Hill the master of the house came bowing forth with the utmost cour- 
 teousness to meet me, expressing his profound sense of the honour I diet 
 him in deigning to inhale the air around his abode, and his unspeakable 
 anguish at having been absent when I had so far condescended before. 
 He was a foreigner, French or Italian, or such like, which accounts 
 for his civility. Had the horses taken to the stable, and their girths 
 
 slackened. D kept the heights, and and I ran, slipped, slid, 
 
 and scrambled down to the water s edge. The river was frozen over, 
 not, however, strongly enough to bear much, and every jutting rock 
 was hung with pure glittering icicles that shone like jewels in the bright 
 sunshine. Far down the river all was still and lonely, and bright, yet 
 wintry-looking. The flow of the water and its plashing music were 
 still; there w r as no breath of wind stirring the leafless boughs; the 
 sunlight came down, warm and dazzling upon the silent sparkling 
 world, all clad in its shimmering ice robe : the air was transparent anil 
 clear, and the whole scene was perfectly lovely. Turning to re-ascend 
 
202 JOURNAL. 
 
 the rocks, I called aloud to D , and the distinctest, loudest echo 
 
 answered me. So perfect was Ihc reflection of the sound, that at first 
 I thought some one was mocking me. I ran up a scale as loud, and 
 high, and rapid as I could ; and, from among the sunny fields, a voice 
 repeated the threaded notes as clearly, as rapidly, only more softly, 
 with a distinctness that was startling. I never heard an echo that re 
 peated so much of what was sung or said. I stood in perfect enchant 
 ment, ex; rcising my voice, and provoking the hidden voice of the air, 
 who answered me with a far-off tone, that seemed as though the mock 
 ing spirit fled along the hill tops, repeating my notes with a sweet 
 gleeful tone that filled me with delight. Oh, what must savages think 
 an echo is? How many many lovely and wild imaginations are sug 
 gested by that which natural philosophers analyse into mere conforma 
 tions of earth and undulations of air ! At length we joined D , and 
 
 walked to the house, where presently appeared the master of the man 
 sion, with cakes, wine, cordial, preserves, or, as Comushalhit, " a table 
 covered with all manner of deliciousness." I was at first a little puzzled 
 by the epithet cordial applied to three goodly-looking decanters full of 
 rosy and golden liquor, and which informed me is the invariable 
 refreshment presented to visiters of both sexes who ride or drive up to 
 Laurel Hill. To satisfy my curiosity, I put my lips to some of it, which 
 proved to be no other than liqueur, an indifferent sort of noyau that 
 which soberest folks in England take but a thimble-full of after dinner, 
 by way of chasse*cafe 7 and drunkenest folk would be ashamed to touch 
 in the morning. It seems that it is otherwise here ; and, indeed, gene 
 rally speaking, Americans swallow much more of all sorts of spirituous 
 nauseousness than we do in our country. The men take brandy, in a 
 way that would astound people of any respectability in England, and in 
 this, as well as many other ways, contribute to assist the enervating 
 effects of their climate. ( ) Our host waited himself most attentively 
 
 ( ) The time of locking of doors at gentlemen s dinner parties, and drinking 
 till the company dropped one by one under the table, has, with the equally dis 
 gusting habit of spitting about the floors, long vanished in England before a more 
 rational hospitality, and a better understanding of the very first rule of good 
 breeding, not to do that which is to offend others. Spirituous liquors are the 
 fashion alone among the numerous frequenters pf the gin-palaces of Holborii ; 
 
JOUIINAL. 203 
 
 upon us, and refused all species of remuneration save thanks, which, 
 indeed, he said he owed me for so far honouring him as to stuff his cakes 
 
 and St. Giles s; even the old-fashioned favourites of our country gentlemen, port, 
 madeira, and sherry, are found too heavy and strongly-flavoured for the palate of 
 our modern exquisites, and the fragrant and delicate wines of Burgundy, Bor 
 deaux, the Rhine, and its tributary streams, are the wines now preferred before 
 all others, by persons of refined taste and moderate indulgence. This in itself is 
 a great improvement. The gross desire of excitement by a quantity of powerful 
 stimulants has given place to a temperate enjoyment of things, in themselves cer 
 tainly the most excellent in the world. Wine-drinking in England is become al 
 together a species of dilettante taste, instead of the disgusting excess it used to 
 be; it is indulged in with extreme moderation, and so much have all coarse and 
 thick-blooded drinks gone out of fashion, that even liqueurs are very seldom 
 taken after coffee but by foreigners. Our gentlemen have learnt to consider 
 hard and gross drinking ungentlemanly. I wish I could say the same of Ame 
 rican gentlemen. The quantity and the quality of their potations are as de 
 structive of every thing like refinement of palate, as detrimental to their health. 
 Americans are, generally speaking, the very worst judges of wine in the world, 
 always excepting madeira, which they have in great perfection, and is the only 
 wine of which they are tolerable judges. One reason of their ignorance upon 
 this subject is the extremely indifferent quality of the foreign wines imported 
 here, and a still more powerful reason, is the total loss of all niceness of taste con 
 sequent upon their continual swallowing of mint julaps, gin slings, brandy cock 
 tails, and a thousand strong messes which they take even before breakfast, and 
 indifferently at all hours of the day, a practice as gross in taste as injurious to 
 health. Burgundy I have never seen at an American table : I believe it will not 
 stand the sea voyage. Claret they have now in very great perfection, thanks to 
 
 Mr. , who has introduced it among them, and deserves to be considered u 
 
 public benefactor therefor. Hock is, generally speaking, utterly undrinkahlf, 
 and champagne (the only foreign wine of which they seem generally fond), though 
 some of a good quality is occasionally presented to you, is for the most part a 
 very nauseous compound, in which sugar is the only perceptible flavour. Al 
 though the American gentlemen do not indeed lock the doors upon their guests, 
 they have two habits equally fatal to their sobriety, of which I have heard several 
 Englishmen complain bitterly. The one is mixing their wines in a most nn-* 
 orthodox manner, equally distressing to the palate and the stomach ; i, e, giving 
 
20/i JOURNAL. 
 
 and drink his wine. We mounted again, being refreshed, and, taking 
 leave of this pearl of innkeepers, continued our ride along the banks of 
 
 you to drink by turns, after dinner, claret, madeira, sherry, hock, champagne, 
 all and each of which you are pressed to take as specimens of excellence in their 
 various ways, forming alogether a vinous hotch-potch, which confounds alike the 
 taste and the brain. The second ordeal, to which the sobriety of Englishmen 
 dining out here is exposed, is at the close of all these various libations, which 
 of course last some time, an instantaneous removal from the dinner to the supper 
 table, where strong whisky punch effectually finishes the wits of their guests, and 
 sends them home to repent for two days the excess of a few hours. Perhaps, 
 when the real meaning of the word society becomes better understood in this 
 country, absurd display and disgusting intemperance will no more be resorted to 
 as its necessary accompaniments; but of course the real material of which society 
 should be formed must increase a little first. I have been told that the women 
 in this country drink. I never saw but one circumstance which would lead me 
 to believe the assertion. At the baths in New York, one day, I saw the girl who 
 was waiting upon the rooms carry mint julaps (a preparation of mint, sugar, and 
 brandy,) into three of them. I was much surprised, and asked her if this was a 
 piece of service she often performed for the ladies who visited the baths? She 
 said, "Yes, pretty often." Bar-rooms are annexed to every species of public 
 building, in the theatres, in the hotels, in the bath-houses, on board the steam 
 boats, and there are even temporary buildings which serve this purpose erected 
 at certain distances along the rail-roads. Though the gentlemen drink more than 
 any other gentlemen, the lower orders here are more temperate than with us. 
 The appearance of a drunken man in the streets is comparatively rare here; and 
 certainly Sunday is not, as with us, the appointed day for this disgusting vice 
 among the lower classes here. Fortunately, most fortunately, it is not with them 
 as with us, the only day on which the poor have rest, or drunkenness the onlv 
 substitute they can find for every other necessary or comfort of life. Our poor 
 arc indeed intemperate. Alas ! that vice of theirs will surely be visited on others ; 
 for it is the offspring of their misery. The effects of habitual intemperance in 
 this country are lamentably visible in many young men of respectable stations 
 and easy circumstances ; and it is by no means uncommon to hear of young 
 gentlemen persons who rank as such here destroying their health, their fa 
 culties, and eventually their lives, at a most untimely age, by this debasing 
 habit. 
 
JOURNAL 205 
 
 tlie Schtiylkill, until we came to Manayunk, a manufacturing place, 
 where they create cottons, and which has the additional advantage of 
 being most lovdily situated upon the hanks of the river, hacked by 
 rocky heights, where the cedar bushes, with their rich dark tufts, and 
 the fine hold masses of grey granite, together with a hundred little 
 water-courses now hanging from every ridge they used to flow over in 
 brilliant ice pendants, had a most beautiful effect. It was gelling lale, 
 however, and we pushed on to the bridge; but, lo! when we reached it, 
 it was under repair and impassable. What w r as to be done? the sun 
 had withdrawn his warm rays from the heavens, the lower earth was 
 shadowy and dark, a rich orange light hung over the brow of the 
 ridge of hills on the opposite side of the river, whose current, rapid and 
 strong, flowed darkly between beautiful slabs of granite which lay 
 in its path, and round which the water hurried angrily. What was 
 to be done? To turn back was disheartening, to go on for the 
 chancf of a bridge was also to run the chance of being utterly be 
 nighted in paths we knew nothing of, an i on horses which were any 
 thing but safe. However, my evident inclination lo the latter course 
 prevailed with my companions. We crossed a narrow bridge, and pur 
 sued a sort of tow- path between the canal and the river. The glimmer 
 ing daylight was fading fast from the sky, and the opposite shores of the 
 river were losing their distinctness of outline, when, from between two 
 beautiful bold masses of rock which overhung its entrance, the wooden 
 bridge appeared. I should like to have lingered in this spot till nightfall, 
 but this was by no means the bargain either with my fellow-travellers or 
 my horse. So on we went over the bridge, and, turning to thelefi, 
 pursued the river s side, now close down to its gushing fretful waters, 
 hurrying from between the rocky impediments of their path, now 
 high above its course, in the midst of woods growing to the very edge of 
 the precipitous bank, with rocky ridges rising again above us, crowned 
 with the black-looking lufls of the cedar, jagged with icicles, and from 
 which descended, at every ten yards, a trickling rill, which, smoothed 
 over by the glassy ice, rendered our horses footing, particularly in the 
 twilight, very insecure. We were in for it; and when thai is the case, 
 t is vain making lamentations or piteous retrospections : I therefore 
 
 pushed on, with as much care as I could of Mr. s tumble-down 
 
 charger, whose headlong motion kept me in agonies, leaving to 
 
206 JOURNAL 
 
 take care of dear D , whose bones I feared would ach for this ad 
 venture most bitterly. The road was perfectly beautiful. Broad masses 
 of shadowy clouds hung in the sky, and were reflected in (he waters, 
 together with the pale delicate grey of evening, and the last amber tinge 
 of sunset. We did not reach Philadelphia lill it was perfectly dark. 
 
 To add to my consternation, too, when we asked to dine with us, 
 
 he said that he had an engagement, for which I began to fear this ill 
 starred ride would have kept him too late. 
 
 I came up to my own room, changed my clothes, and went in to see 
 
 Mrs. . * * * * * 
 
 She was completely overpowered with laudanum. Her head was de 
 clined upon a chair. * 
 
 She looked very lovely, with her beautiful head bowed, and her dark 
 eyelashes lying on her w T an cheeks. Her features were contracted with 
 suffering. I sat watching her with much heartfelt sadness and interest. 
 I was summoned away, however, to see some gentlemen \vho were in 
 
 the drawing-room, wl.ither I adjourned, and where I found Mr. 
 
 and Dr. . I was stupid and sleepy, and the gentlemen had the cha 
 rily nol to keep me up, or make me sing. 
 
 Monday, 24f/i, Christmas-eve. 
 
 After breakfast, put out clothes for to-night. When I came down , 
 
 found in the drawing-room with my father : paid him his bill, and 
 
 pottered an immensity. Went to rehearsal, ;iftenvards paid all manner 
 
 of cards with poor dear D , who puffed and panted through the 
 
 streets in order not to freeze me, which, however, she did not escape. 
 
 After dinner, went and sat with my poor invalid, whom, in spite of 
 her republicanism, I am greatly inclined to like and admire. Remain 
 ed with her till coffee-time. Went to the theatre : the play was the 
 
JOURNAL 207 
 
 Merchant of Venice, my favourite part, Portia. The house was very 
 full : I played so-soish. 4 
 
 Tuesday, 25</i, Christmas-day . 
 
 1 wish you a merry Christinas, poor child ! away from home and 
 friends. Truly, the curse of the old Scriptures has come upon me; my 
 lovers and my acquaintance are far off from me. After breakfast, prac 
 tised for and hour; went and saw Mrs. ; drove out shopping; saw 
 
 walking with my father. Came home and wrote journal : went 
 
 out with D ; bought a rocking-horse for Mrs. s chicks, 
 
 whose merry voices I shall miss most horribly by and by. Dragged 
 it in to them in the midst of their dinner. Dined at three. After 
 dinner, went and sat with her till coffee-lime. When I carne into the 
 drawing-room, found a beautiful work-box sent me by that very youthful 
 
 admirer of mine, Mr. . I was a little annoyed at this, but still 
 
 more so at my father s desiring me to return it to him, which I know 
 will be a terrible mortification to him. Went to the theatre : the house 
 was crammed with men, and very noisy, a Christmas audience. Play, 
 Macbeth : I only played so-so. Oh, me! these marks in the stream of 
 time, over which it breaks as over a dam, drawing our attention, which 
 without them would even less often note its rapid, rapid current! 
 They do but become halting-posts for our souls, round which gather 
 the memories of days and hours escaped and gone from us for ever. ( ) 
 
 ( l ) There is a species of home religion, so to speak, which is kept alive by the 
 gathering together of families at slated periods of joy and festivity, which has a 
 far deeper moral than most people imagine. The merry-making at Christmas, 
 the watching out the old year, and in the new, the royalty of Twelfth-night, the 
 keeping of birth-days, and anniversaries of weddings, are things which, to the 
 worldly-wise in these wise times, may savour of childishness or superstition ; but 
 they tend to promote and keep alive some of the sweetest charities and kindliest 
 sympathies of our poor nature. While we are yet children, these days are set in 
 golden letters in the calendar, long looked forward to, enjoyed with unmixed 
 delight, the peculiar seasons of new frocks, new books, new toys, drinking of 
 
20* JOURNAL. 
 
 Wednesday, 26f/. 
 
 After breakfast, put out things for theatre. When I came down to 
 the drawing-room, I found a middle-aged gentleman of very respectable 
 appearance sitting with my father. He rose on my coming in, and, 
 after bowing to me, continued his discourse to my father thus : 
 u Yes, sir, yes; you will find as J tell you, sir, the winter is our profit 
 able theatrical season, sir; so that if any thing should take you to Eng 
 land, you can return again at the beginning of next fall." I modestly 
 withdrew to another end of the room, supposing they were engaged 
 upon business. But my curiosity was presently attracted by the con 
 tinuation of his discourse. a And recollect, sir, and this lady, your 
 daughter, too, if you please, that what I have said must not on any 
 account be repeated out of this room. I am myself going immediately 
 to England, and from thence direct to Jerusalem ! " I stared. u There, 
 
 sir, is my real name, : the card I sent up to you is not my real 
 
 name. You see, sir, I am an Irishman, that Ls to say, in fact, I am 
 
 healths, bestowing of blessings and wishes by kindred and parents, and being 
 brought into the notice of our elders, and, as children used to think in the dark 
 ages, therefore their betters. To the older portion of the community, such times 
 were times of many mingled emotions, all, all of a softening if not of so exhilarat 
 ing a nature. The cares, the toils, of the worlJ had become their portion, some 
 little of its coldness, its selfishness, and sad guardedness had crept upon them, 
 distance and various interests, and the weary works of life had engrossed their 
 thoughts, and turned their hearts and their feet from the dear household paths, 
 and the early fellowship of home; but at these seasons the world was in its turn 
 pushed aside for a moment, the old thresholds were crossed by those who had 
 ceased to dwell in the house of their birth, kindred and friends met again, as in 
 the early days of childhood and youth, under the same roof-tree, the nursery revel, 
 and the school-day jubilee, was recalled to their thoughts by the joyful voices and 
 faces of a new generation, the blessed and holy influences of home flowed back 
 into their souls, at such a time, by a thousand channels, the heart was warmed 
 with the kind old love and fellowship, face brightened to kindred face, and hand 
 grasped the hand where the same blood was flowing, and all the evil deeds of time 
 seemed for a while retrieved. These were holy and happy seasons. Oh, England ! 
 dear, dear England ! this sweet sacred worship, next to that of God the highest 
 
JOURNAL. 209 
 
 really a Jew. I am one of those of the tribe of Ephraim who refused 
 to cross the Red Sea : we were not to be humbugged by that damned 
 fellow, Moses, no, sir, ice were not. " Here my heart jumped into 
 my throat, and my eyes nearly out of my head with fright aiiu amaze 
 ment. "Well," continued the poor madman, " I suppose I may de 
 liver this to the young lady herself; " giving me a small parcel, which 
 I look from him as if I thought it would explode and blow me up. 
 " And now, sir, farewell. Remember remember, my words, in three 
 years, perhaps, but certainly in ten, He that will come will come, and 
 it s all up with the world, and the children of men ! " This most awful 
 announcement was accompanied with a snap of his fingers, and a demi- 
 pirouette. He was then rushing out of the room, leaving his cloak 
 behind him. My father called him back to give it him. He bundled 
 himself into it, exclaimed, " God bless you both ! God bless you both ! 
 remember, what I have said requires the profoundest secrecy, as you 
 perceive," and darted out of the room, leaving my father and myself 
 with eyes and mouth wide open, gaping in speechless astonishment. 
 
 and purest, was long cherished in your soil, where the word home was surely 
 more hallowed than any other save heaven. Far, far off be the day when a cold 
 and narrow spirit shall quench in you these dear and good human yearnings, and 
 make the consecrated earth around our door-stones as barren as the wide wil 
 derness of life in strange lands. In this country I have been mournfully struck 
 with the absence of every thing like this home-clinging. Here are comparatively 
 no observances of tides and times. Christmas-day is no religious day, and hardly 
 a holiday with them. New-year s day is perhaps a little, but only a little, more 
 so. For Twelfth-day, it is unknown ; and the household private festivals of bit th- 
 days are almost universally passed by unsevered from the rest of the toilsome days 
 devoted to the curse of labour. Indeed, the young American leaves so scon the 
 shelter of his home, the world so early becomes to him a home, that the happy 
 and powerful influences and associations of that word to him are hardly known. 
 Sent forth to earn his existence at the very opening time of mind and heart, like 
 a young green-house plant just budding that should be thrust out into the colder 
 air, the blight of worldliuess, of coldness, and of care, drive in the coming blos 
 soms; and if the tree lives, half its loveliness and half its usefulness are shorn 
 from it. These are some of the consequences of the universal doom of Ameri 
 cans, to labour for their bread : there are others and betler ones. 
 
210 JOURNAL. 
 
 At last I bethongnt me of opening the little packet the madman had left 
 me. It was a small box, on the cover of which was written, To Miss 
 Kemble, with the compliments of St. George. I then recollected, that 
 some time past I had received some verses, in which love and religion 
 were very crazily blended, signed St. George. But, as I am abundantly 
 furnished with epislles of this sort, I had flung them aside, merely 
 concluding the writer to be gone a short way from his wits. The 
 hex contained a most beautiful and curious ornament, something like 
 a Se vigne, highly wrought in gold and enamel, and evidently very 
 costly. I was more confounded than ever, and did not recover from 
 my amazement and fright for a long time. I went in to Mrs. to 
 
 tell her the event. Thence we began talking about young s box; 
 
 and, upon her advice, I again spoke to my father and obtained his leave 
 not to send it back; so I indited him a thankful epistle. Practised for a 
 short time, and then went to the riding-school. It was quite empty : I 
 put on my cap and skirt, and w.is sitting, thinking of many things, in 
 the little dressing-room, when I heard the school-door open, and Mr. 
 walked straight up to me. * * 
 
 Dr. called to-day. I was quite glad to see him : he gave me 
 
 all the New York news, and brought wilh him a gentleman, a friend of 
 his, who nearly made me sick by very deliberately spitting upon the 
 carpet. Mercy on me ! I thought I should have jumped off my chair, 
 I was so disgusted. Mr. , loo, does this constantly. 
 
 After dinner, went and sat with Mrs. ; was called away to see 
 
 Mr. , whom I thanked for his present. 
 
 Went to the theatre at half-past five. The house was very fair, con 
 sidering the weather, which was very foul. Play, School for Scandal. 
 They none of them knew their parts, or remembered their business 
 
 delightful people, indeed ! I played only so-so, supped with us. 
 
 He is a very gentlemanly nice person, and I am told he is extremely 
 amiable. ***** 
 
JOURNAL. 211 
 
 He told me sundry steam-boat stories lhat made my blood curdle ; such 
 as, a public brush, a public comb, and a public tooth-brush. Also, of a 
 gentleman who was using his own tooth-brush, a man who was stand 
 ing near him said, " I 11 trouble you for that article when you ve done 
 with it." When he had done with it, the gentleman presented it io 
 him, and on receiving it gain, immediately threw it into the river. 
 to the infinite amazement of the borrower, who only exclaimed, 
 u Well, however, you re a queer fellow." () 
 
 Thursday, 
 
 After breakfast, went to rehearsal. Katharine and Petruchio. After 
 rehearsal, went to the riding-school. It was quite empty, except of 
 Mr. -- , and Mr. -- . * * * 
 
 Came home : found a letter to me from that strange madman. On 
 opening it, it proved a mere envelope, containing a visiting-card with 
 the name St. George upon it. After dinner, wrote journal; went and 
 
 bat with Mrs. till coffee-time. I have had a most dreadful side- 
 
 ach all day. * * * * 
 
 At half-past five, went to the theatre. Play, Much Ado about Nothing ; 
 farce, Katharine and Petruchio. * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 At the end I was so tired, and so overcome with the side-ach, that I lay 
 down on the floor perfectly done up. 
 
 Friday, 28f/i. 
 
 After breakfast, called. Settled to ride, if possible, to-morrow. 
 
 I would give the world for a good shaking. I m dying of the blue 
 devils : I have no power to rouse myself. * * 
 
 ( ) This happened on board a western steam-boat, I beg to observe, if it hap 
 pened at all. 
 
112 JOURNAL. 
 
 When was gone, sat clown to practise. Tried Mrs. Hemans s 
 
 Messenger Bird, but the words were too solemn and too sad : I sobbed 
 
 instead of singing, and was a little relieved. Went in to see Mrs. . 
 
 She seemed better ; she was en loilette, in a delicate white wrapper, 
 with her fine hair twisted up round her classical head. She is a beauti 
 ful person; she is better an amiable, a sensible, and a pious one; I am 
 very deeply interested by her; I like her extremely. At half-past one, 
 
 went to the riding-school. I met there a daughter of old Lady s, 
 
 who introduced herself to me, and asked leave to stay and see me ride, 
 which leave I gave her. The bay pcny is, however, fairly ruined. A 
 little wretch not twelve years old had just been riding it : it had fallen 
 from all its paces, and went so lame that I gave up riding, and sat dis 
 consolately enough in the little dressing-closet, looking through a window 
 six inches square, at the blessed mild blue heavens, and longing for 
 wings, till my soul was like to faint. 
 
 After dinner, wrote journal. Went in and sat with Mrs. . By the 
 
 by, that worthy youth, Mr. , dined with us. I got rid of some of 
 
 my vapours by sundry hearty laughs at him. I am sorry to leave Phila 
 delphia on Mrs. s account. I am growing to her. Oh, Lord ! how 
 
 soon, how soon we do this! how we do cling to every thing in spite of 
 the pitiless wrenches of lime and chance ! Her dear babies are delight 
 ful to me ; their laughing voices have power to excite and make rne 
 happy, and when they come dancing to meet me, my heart warms 
 very fondly towards them. 
 
 She amuses me much by her intense anxiety that I should be married. 
 
 First, she wishes would propose to me; then she thinks Mr. s 
 
 estates in Cuba would be highly acceptable; in short, my single blessed 
 ness seems greatly to annoy her, and I believe she attributes every thing 
 evil in life to that same. She seemed surprised, and a little shocked, 
 when I said I would accept death most thankfully in preference to the 
 happiest lot in life, and so I would I would. Yet death . T is 
 
JOURNAL. 215 
 
 strange, that Messenger Bird threw more than a passing gloom over me. 
 If the dead do indeed behold those whom they have loved, with loving 
 eyes and fond remembrance, do not the sorrows, the weariness, the toil 
 ing, the despairing of those dear ones rise even into the abodes of peace, 
 and wring the souls of those who thence look down upon the earth, and 
 see the woe and anguish suffered here? Or, if they do not feel, if, 
 freed from this mortal coil, they forget all they have suffered, all that we 
 yet endure, oh ! ihen what fourfold Irash is human love ! what vain and 
 miserable straws are all the deep, the dear, the grasping affections 
 twined in our hearts fibres, mingled with our blood ! How poor are 
 all things, how beggarly is life! Oh! to think that while we yet are 
 bowed in agony, and mourning over the dead, while our bereaved 
 hearts are aching, and our straining eyes looking to that heaven, beyond 
 which we think they yet may hear our cries, they yet may see our 
 anguish, the dead, the loved, the mourned, nor see, nor hear; or if they 
 do, look down with cold and careless gaze upon the love that lifts our 
 very souls in desperate yearning towards them. Yet one of the two 
 must surely be : either the other life is like this, a life of pain, though 
 not like this, perhaps, a life of selfishness; or this earth, and time, and 
 all they hold, are a more hollow mockery than even I sometimes dream 
 they are. I will not think any more of it. We went to the theatre at 
 half-past five. Play, Hunchback ; after it, Katharine and Petruchio. 
 I thought I should have died of the side-ach, I was in perfect agony. 
 The people here are more civil and considerate than can be imagined. 
 I sent, yesterday evening, for some water-ice : the confectioner had 
 none; when, lo ! to-night he brings me some he has made on purpose 
 for me, which he entreats my acceptance of. I admired a very pretty 
 
 fan Mrs. had in her hand; and at the end of the play she had it 
 
 sent to my dressing-room; and these sort of things are done by me, 
 not once, but ten limes every day. Nothing can exceed the kindness 
 and attention which has encountered us every where since we have been 
 in this country. I am sure I am bound lo remember America and Ame 
 ricans thankfully; for, whatever I may think of their ways, manners, 
 or peculiarities, to me Ihey have shown unmingled good will, and cor 
 dial real kindness. Remained up, packing, till two oViock. 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 JQ ^ 
 
 Many a league of salt sea rolls 
 
 Between us, yet I think our souls, 
 
 Dear friend, are still as closely tied 
 
 As when we wander d side by side, 
 
 Some seven years gone, in that fair land 
 
 Where I was born. As hand in hand 
 
 We lived the showery spring away, 
 
 And, when the sunny earth was gay 
 
 With all its blossoms, still together 
 
 We pass d the pleasant summer weather, 
 
 We little thought the time would come, 
 
 When, from a trans-Atlantic home, 
 
 My voice should greet you lovingly 
 
 Across the deep dividing sea. 
 
 Oh, friend! my heart is sad : t is strange, 
 
 As I sit musing on the change 
 
 That has come o er my fate, and cast 
 
 A longing look upon the past, 
 
 That pleasant time comes back again 
 
 So freshly to my heart and brain, 
 
 That I half think the things I see 
 
 Are but a dream, and I shall be 
 
 Lying beside you, when I wake, 
 
 Upon the la\vn beneath the brake, 
 
 With the hazel copse behind my head r 
 
 And the new-mown fields before me spread. 
 
 It is just twilight : that sweet time 
 Is short-lived in this radiant clime, 
 Where the bright day, and night more bright. 
 Upon the horizon s verge unite, 
 Nor leave those hours of ray serene, 
 In which we think of what has been : 
 And it is well ; for here no eye 
 Turns to the distant days gone by : 
 
JOURNAL. 215 
 
 They have no legendary lore 
 
 Of deeds of glory done of yore, 
 
 No knightly marvel-haunted years, 
 
 The nursery tales of adult ears : 
 
 The husy present, bright to come, 
 
 Of all their thoughts make up the sum : 
 
 Little their little past they heed; 
 
 Therefore of twilight have no need. 
 
 Yet wherefore write I thus ? In the short span 
 Of narrow life doled out to every man, 
 Though he but reach the threshold of the track, 
 Where from youth s better path, strikes out the worse, 
 If he has breathed so long, nor once lookxl back, 
 He has not borne life s load, nor known God s curse. 
 
 And yet, but for that glance that o er and o er 
 
 Goes tearfully, where we shall go no more ; 
 
 Courting the sunny spots, where, for a day, 
 
 Our bark has found a harbour on its way ; 
 
 O ! but for this, this power of conjuring 
 
 Hours, days, and years into the magic ring, 
 
 Bidding them yield the show of happiness, 
 
 To make our real misery seem less, 
 
 Life would be dreary. But these memories start, 
 
 Sometimes, unbidden on the mourner s heart ; 
 
 Unwish d, unwelcome, round his thoughts they cling, 
 
 In vain flung off, still dimly gathering, 
 
 Like melancholy ghosts, upon the path 
 
 Where he goes sadly, seeking only death. 
 
 Then live again the forms of those who lie 
 Gather d into the grave s dark mystery. 
 Vainly at reason s voice the phantom flies, 
 It comes, it still comes back to the fond eyes, 
 Still, still the yearning arms are spread to clasp 
 The blessing that escapes their baffled grasp : 
 
216 JOURNAL. 
 
 Still the bewildering memory mutters "Gone!" 
 
 Still, still the clinging aching heart loves on. 
 
 Oh, bitter! that the lips on which we pour 
 
 Love s fondest kisses, feel the touch no more ; 
 
 Oh, lonely! that the voice on which we call 
 
 lu agony, breaks not its silent thrall ; 
 
 Oh, fearful ! that the eyes in which we gaze 
 
 With desperate hope through their thick filmy haze, 
 
 Return no living look to bless our sight ! 
 
 Oh, God! that it were granted that one might 
 
 But once behold the secret of the grave, 
 
 That but one voice from the all-shrouding cave 
 
 Might speak, that but one sleeper might emerge 
 
 From the deep death-sea s overwhelming surge ! 
 
 Speak, speak from the grey coffins where ye lie 
 
 Fretting to dust your foul mortality! 
 
 Speak, from your homes of darkness and dismay, 
 
 To what new being do ye pass away ? 
 
 O do ye live, indeed? speak, if on high 
 
 One atom springs whose doom is not to die ! 
 
 Where have I wandered ? * * 
 
 Saturday, -29th. 
 
 When I came clown to breakfast, found a very pretty diamond ring 
 
 and some Scotch rhymes, from Mr. , what we call a small return 
 
 of favours. I wish my hand wasn t so abominably ugly, I hate 
 to put a ring upon it. called to see if we would ride j but D 
 had too much to do ; and, after sitting pottering for some time, I 
 sang him the Messenger Bird, and sent him away. Went for a few 
 
 moments to Mrs. , who seemed much better. Went out to pay 
 
 sundry bills and visits. Called at Mr. s, and spent half an hour 
 
 most delightfully in his study. His picture of my father is very like, 
 untl very agreeable. T is too youthful by a good deal ; but the expres 
 sion of the face is extremely good, and upon the whole, except that 
 stern-looking thing of Kearsley s, t is the likest thing T have seen of him. 
 
JOURNAL. 21 / 
 
 We had a long discussion about the stage, the dramatic art; which, as 
 Helen says, " is none," for, "no art but taketh time and pains to learn." 
 Now I am a living and breathing witness that a person may be accounted 
 a good actor, and to a certain degree deserve the title, without time or 
 pains of any sort being expended upon the acquisition of Ihe reputation. 
 But, on other grounds, acting has always appeared to me to be the very 
 lowest of the arts, admitting that it deserves to be classed among them at 
 all, which I am not sure it does. In the firstplace,it originates nothing ; 
 it lacks, therefore, the grand faculty which all other arts possess crea 
 tion. An actor is at the best but the filler-up of the outline designed by 
 another, the expounder, as it were, of things which another has set 
 down;< and a fine piece of acting is at best, in my opinion, a fine trans 
 lation. Moreover, it is not alone to charm the senses that the nobler 
 powers of mind were given to man ; t is not alone to enchant the eye. 
 that the gorgeous pallet of the painter, and the fine chisel of the statuary, 
 have become, through heavenly inspiration, magical wands, summoning 
 to life images of loveliness, of majesty, and grace; t is not alone In 
 soothe the ear that music has possessed, as it were, certain men with the 
 spirit of sweet sounds; t is not alone to delight the fancy, that the poet s 
 great and glorious power was given him, by which, as by a spell, he 
 peoples all space, and all time, with undying witnesses of his own ex 
 istence; t is not alone to minister to our senses that these most beautiful 
 capabilities were sown in the soil of our souls. But t is that, through 
 them, all that is most refined, most excellent and noble, in our mental 
 and moral nature, may be led through their loveliness, as through a 
 glorious archway, to the source of all beauty and all goodness. It is 
 that by them our perceptions of truth may be made more vivid, our love 
 of loveliness increased, our intellect refined and elevated, our nature 
 softened, our memory stored with images of brightness, which, like glo 
 rious reflections, falling again upon our souls, may tend to keep alive in 
 them the knowledge of, and the desire after, what is true, and fair, and 
 noble. But, that art may have this effect, it must be to a certain degree 
 enduring. It must not be a transient vision, which fades and leaves 
 but a recollection of what it was, which will fade too. It must not be 
 for an hour, a day, or a year, but abiding, inasmuch as any thing earthly 
 may abide, to charm the sense and cheer the soul of generation after 
 generation. And here it is that the miserable deficiency of acting is 
 
21S JOURNAL. 
 
 most apparent. Whilst the poems, the sculptures, of the old Grecian 
 lime yet remain to witness to these latter ages the enduring life of truth 
 and beauty; whilst the poets of Rome, surviving the trophies of her 
 thousand victories, are yet familiar in our mouths as household words ; 
 whilst Dante, Boccaccio, thai giant, Michael Angelo, yet live, and breathe, 
 and have their being amongst us, through the rich legacy their genius 
 has bequeathed to time ; whilst the wild music of Salvator Rosa, solemn 
 and sublime as his painting, yet rings in our ears, and the souls of Shak- 
 speare, Milton, Raphael, and Titian, are yet shedding into our souls 
 divinest influences from the very fountains of inspiration; where are 
 the pageants that, night after night, during the best era of dramatic ex 
 cellence, riveted the gaze of thousands, and drew forth their acclama 
 tions? gone, like rosy sunset clouds; fair painted vapours, lovely to 
 the sight, but vanishing as dreams, leaving no trace in heaven, no token 
 of their ever having been there. Where are the labours of Garrick, of 
 Macklin, of Cooke, of Kemble, of Mrs. Siddons? chronicled in the dim 
 memories of some few 7 of their surviving spectators; who speak of them 
 with an enthusiasm which we, who never saw them, fancy the offspring 
 of that feeling which makes the old look back to the time of their youth 
 as the only days when the sun knew how to shine. What have these 
 great actors left, either to delight the sense or elevate the soul, but barren 
 names, unwedded to a single lasting evidence of greatness! If, then, 
 acting be alike without the creating power and the enduring property, 
 which are at once the highest faculty of art, and its most beneficial pur 
 pose, whal becomes of it when ranked with efforts displaying both in the 
 highest degree? To me it seems no art, ( ) but merely a highly rational, 
 
 ( ) The evanescent nature of his triumph, however an actor may deplore it, 
 is in fact but an instance of the broad moral justice by which all things are so 
 evenly balanced. If he can hope for no fame beyond mere mention, when once 
 his own generation passes away, at least his power, and his glory, and his reign 
 is in his own person, and during his own life. There is scarcely to be conceived 
 a popularity for the moment more intoxicating than that of a great actor in his 
 day, so much of it becomes mixed up with the individual himself. The poet, 
 the painter, and the sculptor, enchant us through their works; and, with verv 
 very few exceptions, their works, and not their very persons, are the objects of 
 admiration and applause : it is to their minds we are beholden ; and though a 
 
JOURNAL. 219 
 
 interesting, and exciting amusement; and I think men may as well, 
 much better, perhaps, spend three hours in a theatre than in a billiard 
 or bar-room, and this is the extent of my approbation and admiration 
 
 of my art. Called on Mrs. , whom I like very much. Went to the 
 
 riding-school to try a new horse, which was ten hands high, all covered 
 with shaggy angry-looking hair, with a donkey s head, and cart-horse 
 legs, with one of which he peached. came to see me mount. 
 
 Dr. s grey hoisewas standing in the school with a man s saddle on, 
 
 I persuaded to put me on it, and I then sent him aw r ay. 
 
 When he was gone, rode for about an hour without any pommel, and 
 found I managed it famously. I slipped my foot out of the stirrup in 
 order to see if I could sit without both; but this proved rather loo much, 
 for I presently slid very comfortably off. On my way home, met young 
 
 , with his head so completely in the clouds, that I had bowed to 
 
 him, and was driving on, when he just perceived me, and fell into a 
 confusion of bows, which he continued long after the coach had passed 
 him. Found the usual token of his having been at our house a inosi 
 beautiful nosegay ; roses, hyacinths, and myrtle. While I was arrang 
 ing them, I heard a tremendous shriek of laughter in the ball, which 
 
 was followed by the appearance of Mr. . After silting with him 
 
 some time, I went arid sat with Mrs. . The amiable Charge d Affaires 
 
 dined with us. After dinner, went to see Mrs. ; but she was too 
 
 unwell to receive me. * * * 
 
 certain degree of curiosity and popularity necessarily wait even upon their bodih 
 presence, it is faint compared with thai which is bestowed upon the actor ; and 
 for good reasons he is himself his work. His voice, his eyes, his gesture, are 
 his art, and admiration of it cannot be separated from admiration for him. This 
 renders the ephemeral glory which he earns so vivid, and in some measure may 
 he supposed to compensate for its short duration. The great of the earth, whose 
 fame has arisen like the shining of the sun, have often toiled through their 
 whole lives in comparative obscurity, through the narrow and dark palhs of 
 existence. Their reward was never given to their hands here, it is bul just 
 their glory should he lasting. 
 
220 JOURNAL. 
 
 Saw Dr. , who expressed manifold deplorings at my departure 
 
 gave him the words of the Sisters. At half-past five, went to the theatre : 
 play, the Wonder. I acted only so-so : my father was a leetle dans les 
 vignes du Seigneur. When the play was over, the folk called for us, 
 and we went on : he made them a neat speech, and I nothing but a 
 cross face and three courtesies. How I do hate this ! T is quite enough 
 to exhibit myself to a gaping crowd, when my profession requires that 
 I should do so in a feigned semblance ; but to come bobbing and genu- 
 flexioning on, as me myself, to be clapped and shouted at, and say, 
 "Thank ye kindly," is odious. After the play, dressed, and off to 
 
 Mrs. , with my father and Mr. . On our way thither, the spring 
 
 of our coach broke, and we had to go halting along for half an hour, 
 with a graceful inclination towards the pavement on one side, which 
 
 was very pleasant. There was quite a brilliant party at Mrs. s. 
 
 Told Mr. that I had thrown his horse down. Saw and spoke to 
 
 all Philadelphia. was there, and actually sitting still. Fell in love 
 
 with Mr. s youngest son, who is a youth of some ten years old, and 
 
 hovers round me with a plenitude of silent admiration and astonishment 
 
 that is most delightful. Miss , who is a very pretty creature (in fact, 
 
 all American women are pretty creatures, I never saw any prettier;, 
 sang Dalla Gioga e del Piacer. She sings very well, but pronounces 
 Italian very Americanly, which is a pity. I don t know any thing 
 so necessary to good singing as a good Italian pronunciation, except per 
 haps a good voice, and a good school. They made me sing, and I sang 
 
 them the galley song, after w r hich Miss warbled again. They wen 
 
 surrounding me again, with a shower of " pray do s, when perceiving 
 
 D making towards me, with my boa on her arm, I sat down and 
 
 sang them, " Yes, aunt, I am ready to go," to their infinite edification. 
 
 I wonder if Mrs. would object to this; I should think not, as 
 
 is not here to catch it again. 
 
 Came home, and supped. I had eaten nothing since four o clock, and 
 was famished ; for I do not like stewed oysters and terrapins, which 
 are the refreshments invariably handed round at an American evening 
 party. Did not get to bed till two o clock. How beautifully bright 
 the heavens are here ! The sky has an earnest colour that is lovely and 
 
JOURNAL. 221 
 
 solemn to look at ; and the moon, instead of being " the maiden with 
 white fire laden," has a rich, mellow, golden light, than which nothing 
 can he more beautiful. The stars, too, are more vivid than in our skies, 
 and there is a variety of hues in their light which I never observed 
 before, some reddish, some violet, and again others of the palest 
 silver. 
 
 Sunday 9 &tih. 
 
 After breakfast, Mr. called, also , to know at what time we 
 
 would ride. I fixed at twelve, thereby calculating that we should 
 escape the people coming out from church. Went and sat a few minutes 
 with Mrs. . * * 
 
 Spent my Sunday morning on my knees, indeed, but packing, not pray 
 ing. The horses did not come till half-past twelve ; so that, instead of 
 avoiding, we encountered the pious multitude. I m sure when we 
 mounted there were not less than a hundred and fifty beholders round 
 the Mansion House. Rode out to Laurel Hill. The cross road was 
 muddy, so we look the turnpike, which was clean and short, and would 
 have been pleasant enough but for my brute of a horse. Upon my 
 word, these American horses are most unsafe to ride. I never mount 
 one but I recommend myself to the care of Heaven, for I expect to have 
 every bone in my body broken before I dismount again. At Laurel 
 
 Hill we lunched. While D put up her hair, and I ran down 
 
 to the water side. The ice had melted from the river, in whose still 
 waters the shores, and trees, and bridge lay mirrored with beautiful and 
 fairy-like distinctness. The long icicles under the rocky brow beneath 
 which we stood had not melted away, though the warm sun was shining 
 brilliantly on them, and making the granite slab on which we stood 
 sparkle like a pavement of diamonds. I called to the echo, and sang 
 to it scales up, and scales down, and every manner of musical discourse 
 I could think of, during which interesting amusement I as nearly as 
 
 possible slipped from my footing into the river, which caused both 
 
 and myself to gulp. We left our pleasant sunny stand at last, to rejoin 
 
 D and the lunch, and, having eaten and drunken, we remounted 
 
 and proceeded on to Manaynnk, under the bright, warm, blessed sun- 
 
222 JOURNAL. 
 
 shine, which came down like a still shining shower upon the earih. The 
 heautiful little water-courses had all broken from their diamond chains, 
 and came dancing and singing down the hills, between the cedar bushes, 
 and the masses of grey granite, like merry children laughing as they 
 run. After crossing the bridge at Flat Rock, I took the van, riding by 
 myself much faster than my companions, whom I left to entertain each 
 other. Several limes, as I looked down at the delicious fresh water, all 
 rosy with the rosy light of the clouds, and gushing round the masses of 
 rock that intercepted their channel, I longed to jump off my horse, and 
 go down among their shallow brilliant eddies. The whole land was 
 mellow with warm sunset, the sky soft, and bright, and golden, like a 
 dream. I stopped for a long time opposite the Wissihiccon creek. The 
 stone bridge, with its grey arch, mingled with the rough blocks of 
 rock on which it rested, the sheet of foaming water falling like a curtain 
 of gold over the dam among the dark stones below, on whose brown 
 sides the ruddy sunlight and glittering water fell like splinters of light. 
 The thick, bright, rich tufted cedars basking in the warm amber glow, 
 the picturesque mill, ihe smooth open field along whose side the river 
 waters, after receiving this child of the mountains into their bosom, 
 wound deep, and bright, and still, the whole radiant with the softest 
 light I ever beheld, formed a most enchanting and serene subject of 
 contemplation. Further on, I slopped again, to look at a most beautiful 
 mass of icicles, formed by some water falling from a large wooden con 
 duit which belonged to a mill. The long thick masses of silvery white 
 clung in downward pyramids together, and on the ground, great round 
 balls of purest transparent ice, like enormous crystal grapes, lay cluster 
 ed upon each other. I waited on a little sunny knoll above this glitter 
 ing fairy work, till my companions joined me, when, leaving D to 
 
 pursue the main road, and I turned off, and explored a pretty 
 
 ravine, down which another mountain stream, half free wild water, 
 half shimmering diamond ice, sparkled in the sunset. We reached Phi 
 ladelphia at half- past four, and had again to canter down Chestnut 
 Street just as the folks were all coming from church, which caused no 
 
 little staring, and turning of heads. My father asked to dine with 
 
 us, but he refused. Mr. dined with us. After dinner, went in to 
 
 pay my last visit to my poor sick friend. I sat with her until summon 
 ed to see some gentlemen in the drawing-room. It pained me to part 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 from her; for though she exerted herself bravely, she was very much 
 overcome. I fear she will miss me, poor thing; I had become very 
 
 much attached to her. I went in to bid Mrs. good-by. - was 
 
 not gone to bed ; I took her in my arms and kissed her, saying I should 
 not see her for a long time again. The tears came into her baby eyes, 
 and she said very sadly, a God bless you, Fanny." How curious a 
 
 train of associations that word produced in me ! It brought , and 
 
 Lord , and that beautiful creature his child, before my very eyes. 
 
 But her father had told little Lady to say that, I am sure he did; 
 
 now this little creature blessed me out of her own heart. A child s 
 blessing is a holy thing. Came into the drawing-room. Found Dr. 
 
 , young Mr. . and Mr. there. Presently, Mr. came 
 
 in, with Baron , a man with a thick head, thick white hair, that 
 
 stood out round it like a silver halo, and gold ear-rings. I sang to 
 them till past ten o clock, and then came to my own room, where I 
 remained up packing and pottering until past two. 
 
 Monday, 3\st. 
 
 The river being yet open, thank Heaven, we arose at half-past four 
 o clock. Dressed sans dawdling for once, and came down. 
 
 and I were bundled into a coach, and rumbled and tumbled 
 over the stones, through the blackness of darkness down to the steam 
 boat, was waiting for us, and convoyed us safely to the cabin, 
 
 where I laid myself down, and slept till breakfast-time. My father, 
 
 Captain , Mr. , and Baron , sat themselves down most com- 
 
 forlably to breakfast, leaving us entirely to the charge and care of 
 
 , who fulfilled his trust with infinite zeal. T is curious; there was 
 
 a man on board whom I have now seen every lime I have been going 
 to or from New York to Philadelphia, whose appearance was in itself 
 very remarkable, and the subsequent account I received of him perhaps 
 increased the sort of impression it made upon me. He was a man of 
 about from thirty to thirty-five, / guess, sianding about five feet ten, 
 with a great appearance of strength and activity. His face was that 
 of a foreigner, the features were remarkably well cut, and the piercing 
 black eyes, dark hair, and brown complexion, gave a Spanish character 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 to his countenance. There was a sort of familiar would-be gentlemanly 
 manner in his deportment and address, and a species of slang gentility 
 in his carriage and conversation, that gave me a curiosity to ascertain 
 what on earth he could be. After breakfast, walked up and down deck 
 
 with . was on board. I am happy to hear he is thriving : I 
 
 love all my fellow-passengers ; and when I see one of them, my heart 
 warms towards them, as to a bit of the dear old land left behind. After 
 about an hour s steaming, we disembarked to cross the narrow neck of 
 land which divides the Delaware from the Chesapeake. Here we got 
 into a coach holding some twelve of us, to be conveyeclover the rail-road 
 by one of Stevenson s engines. Neither the road nor the conveyances 
 are comparable to those of the Liverpool and Manchester rail-way; and 
 instead of those luxurious roomy coaches, which form the merit of the 
 Liverpool train, \ve were squeezy and uncomfortable to a degree. The 
 country along this slip of land is- flat and very uninteresting, clothed with 
 threadbare young woods, whose thin spare skeletons, without their leafy 
 mantles, looked excessively miserable. The distance from the Delaware 
 to Frenchtown, on the Elk, where we were again to take water, is 
 about sixteen miles, which we did in an hour. The first part of the 
 road lies in Delaware, the latter in Maryland. The Elk, which in this 
 world of huge w r aters is considered but a paltry ditch, but which in 
 our country would be thought a very decent-sized river, was, a few 
 days ago, frozen up, thereby putting a stop to the steam-boat travelling. 
 But, fortunately for us, it was open to-day, and presently we beheld 
 the steamer coming puffing up to take us from the pier. This boat 
 the Charles Carroll is one of the finest they have. T is neither so 
 swift nor so large, I think, as some of the North river boats, but it is a 
 beautiful vessel, roomy and comfortable in its arrangements. I went 
 below for a few minutes, but found, as usual, the atmosphere of the 
 cabin perfectly intolerable. The ladies cabin, in winter, on board one 
 of these large steamers, is a right curious sight. T is generally cram 
 med to suffocation with women, strewn in every direction. The greater 
 number cuddle round a stove, the heat of which alone would make 
 the atmosphere unbreathable, Others sit lazily in a species of rocking- 
 chair, which is found wherever Americans sit down, cradling them 
 selves backwards and forwards, with a lazy, lounging, sleepy air, that 
 makes me long to make them get up and walk. Others again manage. 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 even upon fresli water, to be very sick. There are generally a dozen 
 young human beings, some naughty, sick, and squalling, others happy, 
 romping, and riotous; and what with the vibratory motion of the 
 rocking-chairs and their contents, the women s shrill jabber, the chil 
 dren s shriller wailing and shouting, the heat and closeness of the air, 
 a ladies cabin on board an American steam-boat is one of the most 
 overpowering things to sense and soul that can well be imagined. There 
 was a poor sick woman with three children, among our company, two of 
 which were noisy unruly boys, of from eight to ten years old. One of 
 them set up a howl as soon as he came on board, which he prolonged, 
 to our utter dismay, for upwards of half an hour sans intermission, 
 except to draw breath. I bore it as long as I could; but threats, en 
 treaties, and bribes having been resorted lo in vain, by all the women 
 in the cabin, to silence him, I at length very composedly took him up 
 in my arms, and deposited him on his back in one of the upper berths ; 
 whereupon his brother flew at his mother, kicking, thumping, scream 
 ing, and yelling. The cabin was in an uproar; the little wretcli I held 
 in my arms struggled like a young giant, and though I succeeded in 
 lodging him upon the upper shelf, presently slid down from it like an 
 eel. However, this effort had a salutary effect, for it obtained silence, 
 the crying gave way to terror, which produced silence, of which I 
 
 availed myself to sleep till dinner-time. At dinner, and Mr. 
 
 took charge of D and me, who, seeing that we were to get no 
 
 dinner till six o clock, thought fit to eat some lunch. The strange dark 
 man was sitting opposite us, and discoursing away to his neighbours in 
 a strain and tone in which shrewdness and swagger, and vulgarity and 
 a sort of braggart gallantry, were curiously jumbled. From his con 
 versation, it was evident that he was a seafaring man. He spoke of 
 having been a midshipman on board an American frigate. The ques 
 tion they were debating was that of superstitious prejudice, involving 
 belief in lucky and unlucky days, witches, ghosts, etc. The stranger 
 professed perfect faith in all, and added sundry experiences of his own, 
 at the same time observing, that with regard to sailors, the strong pre 
 judice they have against sailing on certain days often creates the very 
 ill luck they apprehend; for if any danger should occur, t is all attri 
 buted to evil influences against which they have no power, and they are 
 at once deprived of half their energy in labour, and half their courage 
 
226 JOURNAL. 
 
 in peril. When dinner was over, I pointed out this strange man to my 
 father, asking him if he had any idea who he was. " I am told," was 
 his reply, "that he is but just returned from New York, where he has 
 been tried for piracy." This accounted for every thing, dare-devil 
 look and language, seafaring adventures, and superstitious creed. II is 
 a pleasant mode of travelling that throws one into contact with such 
 company. * * 
 
 * + + + * 
 
 Touching pirates, Baltimore, I was told (I know not how truly) is 
 famous for them. They have small schooners there of a particularly 
 light build, and raking masts, which are the prettiest craft in the world 
 to look at, and the swiftest that sail sea. The Baltimore clippers are 
 proverbial for their elegance and fleetness : they are like greyhounds on 
 the water. These, I was told, were frequently owned by gentlemen of 
 rather an ambiguous character, something between pirate, smuggler, 
 and wrecker, perhaps a judicious compound of all three. Their trade is 
 chiefly, I believe, with and about the West India islands. I looked at 
 my Spanish-faced friend with redoubled curiosity : lie was the very man 
 for a pirate. We reached Baltimore at about half-past four. The 
 Ches.ipeake bay, like the Delaware river, appeared to me admirable only 
 as an immense sheet of water. A t some parts that we passed, it was six, 
 at others, ten, at others, thirteen miles across. The shores were flat and 
 uninteresting on one side, but on the other occasionally very picturesque 
 and beautiful, rising in red-looking cliffs from the water s edge, and 
 crowned with beautiful green tufts of wood cedar, I suppose, for no- 
 thingelse is green at this time. The curvings of the shore, loo, are very 
 pretty; but, owing to the enormous width of the water, my imperfect 
 vision could hardly discern the peculiar features of the land. The day 
 was more lovely than a fine day in early September, in England, bright, 
 soft and sunny, with the blue in the sky of the delicate colour one sees 
 in the Sevres porcelain. As we entered the Patapsco, and neared Balti 
 more, North Point and Fort M llenry were pointed out to me. My 
 spirits always sink when I come to a strange place ; and as we came along 
 the wharf sides, under the red dingy-looking warehouses, between which 
 the water ran in narrow dark-looking canals, I felt terribly gloomy. 
 We drove up to Barnham s, the best house in the town; and. having 
 
JOURAAL 227 
 
 found out \\here to lay my head, I hail my fill of crying. () After 
 dinner, Avent and 1 iy down j slept profoundly till nine o clock. On my 
 
 return to the drawing-room, found there, and Mr. , the man 
 
 who owns (he Front Street theatre, hut who it seems is only just out of 
 gaol, and has neither actors nor scenes to get up a play withal. While 
 he was here, came missives from the proprietors of the Holliday Street 
 theatre, lo inform my father that it was lighted up, ami requesting him 
 
 to come and look at it. This was awkward rather. When Mr. was 
 
 gone, I came to my room, where I remained without a fire, cold without 
 and disconsolate within, till past one o clock. I did not know it was 
 New- Year s eve; ;<nd so the waters carried me over this other dam 
 without my looking hack at what was past, or forward at what is to 
 come : and why should I ? surely " the thing that hath been, it is that 
 which shall be ; and that which is done, is that which shall be done ; and 
 there is no new thing under the sun :" sorrow and joy, hoping and 
 fearing, pain and pleasure, laughing and weeping, striving and yielding, 
 --they will all come again and again, and all things will be Che same, 
 till all things cease. 
 
 Tuesday, January, 1st,) 
 
 , > loOO. 
 
 New-M ear s Day, ) 
 
 There it lies in its cradle ! its pure forehead yet unstained by sin, 
 unfurroweJ by care ; and not an hour shall have passed without the 
 traces of both becoming visible. And where is the mother gone ? where 
 is the fulfilled year ? Gone sorrowing to join the crowd of ancestors, 
 who witness each against me for the unthrift waste I have made of the 
 rich legacies they one by one have bestowed on me. Oh, new-born 
 year ! ere half thy hours are spent, how often will my weary spirit have 
 wished them fleeter wings than even those they wear ! What secrets 
 are there folded in thy breast, what undreamt-of chances, what 
 strange befallings, what unforeseen sorrows, what unexpected joys 
 
 () Another house has been opened at Baltimore within the last year, which, 
 though unfinished at the time of our lodging there, promised lo he extremelv 
 comfortable. The building adjoined, and indeed formed, part of the Exchange ; 
 the vestibule of which is the only very beautiful piece of architecture I have seen 
 here. It is very beautiful. 
 
228 JOURNAL. 
 
 Perhaps, in the mysterious accomplishments with which thou art laden, 
 my death may he numbered ! perhaps, ere thy course he duly run, 
 the death of Time may be decreed ! Oh! this life, and all things in it, 
 remind me of the thin veils of spiders webs which divided Desire from 
 his aim, and which, though light and transparent, were so numerous, 
 that to lift them all away was hopeless. After breakfast, began writing 
 journal. T was not until dating it that I discovered it was New-year s 
 day. When I did so, and looked at my strange surroundings, at the 
 gloomy wintry sky, and thought of the heathenish disregard with which 
 I was passing over, in this far land, the season of home-gathering and 
 congregating of kin in my own country, I could not refrain from crying 
 
 bitterly. In spite of the pouring rain, and Mr. s hints to keep us 
 
 away, my father, who wished to ascertain the truth of the reports with 
 regard to the state of his theatre, set forward thither with me. We 
 found a very large handsome house, larger, I think, than the Park, but 
 dirty, dilapidated, and looking as if there had been eleven executions in 
 it that morning. No actors, scarcely any scenes, in short, such a state 
 of things as rendered it totally impossible for us to think of acting there. 
 Came home; sat diligently crying the whole morning. The afternoon 
 cleared up, and became soft and sunny. My father insisted on my taking 
 a walk; so I bonneted and set out with him. What I saw of the town 
 appeared to me extremely like the outskirts of Birmingham or Manches 
 ter. Bright-red brick houses, in rows of three and five, with interesting 
 gaps of gravel-pits, patches of meadow, and open spaces between, which 
 give it an untidy straggling appearance. They are building in every 
 direction, however, and in less than two years, these little pauses being 
 filled up, Baltimore will be a very considerable place ; for it covers, in its 
 present state, a large extent of ground, and contains a vast population. 
 Immediately after dinner, our host made his entree with a piano-forte. 
 
 I had suggested to Mr. that I should be glad of one ; and here it 
 
 came. I had asked him to return in the evening, and was glad of tlie 
 piano, for it helps the time away. At six o clock, the managers of the 
 Holliday Street theatre made their appearance ; and my father stating 
 that Mr. was literally unable to fulfil his engagement with us, en 
 tered into arrangements with them, during which I sat up at a tremen 
 dously high window, looking at the beautiful serious skies, and radiant 
 moon, and listening to a tolerable band playing sundry of Rossini s airs, 
 
JOURNAL. 220 
 
 When these men had departed, came in. I sang and made him sing 
 
 till tea-time. After that, he entertained us with a very long, but not very 
 clear, account of the various processes of making, polishing, etc. steel, as 
 practised in his manufactory. His account of their hard dealings with 
 the poorer manufacturers was dreadful ; and he himself spoke with horror 
 of it, saying, " Oh, they are so miserably ground, poor wretches, they 
 cannot be said to live, they barely exist." When I remonstrated with 
 him upon the wickedness of such proceedings, he replied, "We are 
 compelled to do it in self-defence : if we did not use the same means as 
 other manufacturers, we should presently be undersold." And this is 
 the game playing all over England at this moment, in every department 
 of her commerce and manufacture, this cruel oppression of the poor, 
 this forcing them by a league against them, as it were, to toil in bitterness 
 for their scanty daily bread, while those who thus inhumanly depreciate 
 their labour, and wring their hard earnings from their starving grasp, 
 grow wealthy on their plunder. Are not these the things for which 
 God has said he will avenge ? Is his abomination of the false balance, 
 an 1 the stinted measure, and the unjust reckoning, less than in the days 
 when he said he would visit the oppressor of the poor, and plead the 
 cause of the widow and fatherless ? Are not these the things that make 
 a nation rotten at core, and ripe for decay ? Are not these the things for 
 which retribution is laid up, and fourfold restitution will be demanded ? 
 T is awful to think of. From this the conversation grew to the means 
 of obtaining interest upon money in this country, which the gentlemen 
 discussed together for a length of time. I listened to them with many 
 sad thoughts. How intent they seemed in their discourse , how much 
 they appeared to value every slightest advantage of place or circumstance 
 which enabled them to draw a greater profit from their capital; how 
 eagerly, how earnestly, they seemed absorbed in these calculations. I 
 do not know when I have been so forcibly struck with the worthlessness 
 of money, and the strange delusion under which all men seem to be la 
 bouring, giving up their lives, as they do, to the hunting of wealth. Are 
 these the cares that should engross the faculties of immortal souls, and 
 rational thinking creatures ? That we must live, I know, and that money- 
 is necessary to live, I know; but that our glorious capacities of soul, 
 mind, and body, the fitting exercise of which alone, in itself, is happiness, 
 should thus be chained down to the altar horns of Mammon, is what I 
 
230 JOURNAL. 
 
 never will believe wise, right, or fitting. I at length spoke, for my heart 
 was burning within me, and burst into an eloquent lamentation on the 
 folly and misery of which the world was guilty in following this base 
 worship as it does. But when I said that I was convinced happiness 
 might and did exist most blessedly upon half the means which men spent 
 Iheir lives in scraping together, my father laughed, and said I was the 
 last person in the world who could live on little, or be content with the 
 mediocrity I vaunted. I looked at my satin gown, and held my tongue, 
 but still I was not convinced. We returned to our music lill ten o clock, 
 when they had some supper, after which they drank a happy new year 
 to England : poor old England, God bless it ! At about twelve o clock, 
 departed. Sat up a long time at the window, listening to some 
 serenading, which, in the moonlight, sounded pleasantly enough. (} 
 
 Sunday, Gth. 
 
 At about half-past ten, Mr. called for us, and we walked up to 
 
 the cathedral, which is a large unfinished stone building, standing on 
 the brow of a hill, which is to be the fashionable quarter of the town, 
 and where there are already some very nice-looking houses. The 
 interior of the church is large ami handsome, and has more the look of a 
 church than any thing I have been inside of in this country yet. T is 
 full eight years since I was in a Catholic church ; arid the sensation with 
 which I approached the high altar, with its golden crucifix, its marble 
 entablatures., and its glimmering starry lights, savoured fully as much of 
 sadness as devotion. I have not been in a Catholic place of worship 
 since I was at school. How well I remember the beautiful music of the 
 military mass, the pageants and processions of the feast days at high mass, 
 and the evening service, not vespers, but the Salut. ( a ) They sang that 
 
 ( ) This very romantic piece of gallantry (serenading) is very common in tin s 
 country. How it comes to be so I can t quite make out; for it is not at all of a 
 piece with the national manners or tone of feeling. It s very agreeable, though, 
 and is an anomaly worth cultivating. 
 
 ( a ) I have heard it several times asserted, that Catholicism was gaining ground 
 extremely in this country. Surely the Preacher sayelh well, "The thing which 
 has been, it is that which shall be, and there is nothing new beneath the sun." 
 
JOURNAL. 231 
 
 exquisitely mournful and beautiful Et incarnatus esl, of Haydn s, which 
 made my blood all run backwards. One thing disgusted me dreadfully, 
 though the priests who were officiating never passed or approached the 
 altar without bending the knee to it, they kept spitting all over the carpet 
 that surrounded and covered the steps to it, interrupting themselves in 
 the middle of the service to do so, without the slightest hesitation. We 
 had a very indifferent sermon : the service was of course in Latin. 
 
 When it was over, Mr. insisted on showing me some paintings 
 
 which hung on either side the grand entrance. These were a couple 
 of pictures by Paulin Guerin ; the one representing the descent from the 
 cross, the other, the burying of the de;sd, by St. Charle-, in the Holy 
 Land. I do not understand much about bad pictures, but I know good 
 ones when I see them ; and I think these were not such. There was 
 no beauty of imagination or poetical conception whatever in them, and 
 there appeared to me to be manifold glaring faults in the execution. 
 I could have sworn to their being French pictures. W T as introduced to 
 several people, coming out of church. A little way beyond the cathedral 
 stands Washington s monument, a neat and appropriate pillar, 
 which, together with a smaller one erected at the head of our street, to 
 the memory of the North Point heroes, has given Baltimore the appellation 
 
 Is it not a marvellous thing to think of, that that mighty tree which has oversha 
 dowed the whole of the Christian world, under whose branches all the European em 
 pires were cradled, and which we have with our own eyes beheld droop, and fade, 
 and totter, as it does at this moment in the old soils, is it not strange to think 
 of the seed being carried, and the roots taking hold in this new earth, perhaps to 
 send up another such giant shadow over this hemisphere? Its growth here ap 
 pears to me almost impossible ; for if ever there were two things more opposite in 
 their nature than all other things, they are the spirit of the Roman Catholic reli 
 gion and the spirit of the American people. It s true, that of the thousands who 
 take refuge from poverty upon this plenteous land, the greater number bring 
 with them that creed, but the very air they inhale here presently gives them a 
 political faith, so utterly incompatible with the spirit of subjection, that I shall 
 think the Catholic priesthood here workers of miracles, to retain any thing like 
 the influence over their minds which they possessed in those countries, where 
 all creeds, political and polemical, have but one watch-word faith and sub 
 mission. 
 
232 JOURNAL. 
 
 of the monumental city, which never could have befallen it in any other 
 country under heaven but this. At eight o clock, we went to Mrs. 
 
 s. They are all in deep mourning, and the circle was very small. 
 
 They are most agreeable pleasant people, with a peculiar gentleness of 
 manner, like very high breeding, which I have often observed in Catho 
 lics of the better orders. Their conversation appeared to me totally 
 divested of the disagreeable accent which seems almost universal in this 
 
 country. Mrs. talked to me about my aunt Whitelock, and what 
 
 a charming actress she was, and what an enchanting thrilling voice she 
 
 had. I spent a delightful evening. Before we went away, Mr. 
 
 showed us a picture of Lady , by Lawrence. It looked quite refresh 
 ing, with its lovely dark curls unfrizzed, and the form of the neck and 
 arms undisguised by the hideousness of modern fashions. Saw a very 
 
 good likeness, too, of the Duke of . T was very like him, though 
 
 many years younger. * * 
 
 By the by, somebody said that had turned Roman Catholic, and 
 
 very devout. Some of the Marys and Magdalens of the old Italian 
 painters are very converting pictures, with their tearful melancholy 
 
 eyes, and golden, glorious, billowy hair. Mrs. amused me very 
 
 much by her account of the slaves on their estates, whom, she 
 said, she found the best and most faithful servants in the world. 
 Being born upon the land, there exists among them something of the 
 old spirit of clanship, and " our house," " our family," are the terms by 
 which they designate their owners. In the south, there are no servants 
 but blacks; for the greater proportion of domestics being slaves, all 
 species of servitude whatever is looked upon as a degradation; and the 
 slaves themselves entertain the very highest contempt for white servants, 
 whom they designate as " poor white trash." 
 
 Monday, till. 
 
 Voting called, and stayed about an hour with us. At half-pas! 
 
 five, took coffee, and off to the theatre. The play was Romeo and 
 Juliet; the house was extremely full: they are a delightful audience. 
 My Rorneo had gotten on a pair of trunk breeches, that looked as if he 
 had borrowed them from some worthy Dutchman of a hundred vears 
 
JOURNAL 233 
 
 ago. Had he worn them in New York, I could have understood it as a 
 compliment to the ancestry of that good cily ; but here, to adopt such a 
 costume in Romeo, was really perfectly unaccountable. They were of 
 a most unhappy choice of colours, too, dull, heavy-looking blue cloth, 
 and offensive crimson satin, all be-puckered, and be-plaited, and be- 
 puffed, till the young man looked like a magical figure growing out of 
 a monstrous strange coloured-melon, beneath which descended his un 
 fortunate legs, thrust into a pair of red slippers, for all the world like 
 Grimaldi slegse;j costume for clown. The play went off pretty smoothly, 
 except that they broke one man s collar-bone, and nearly dislocated a 
 woman s shoulder by flinging the scenery about. My bed was not made 
 in time, and when the scene drew, half a dozen carpenters in patched 
 trowsers and tattered shirt-sleeves were discovered smoothing down my 
 pillows, and adjusting my draperies. The last scene is too good not to 
 be given verbatim : 
 
 ROMEO. Rise, rise, my Juliet, 
 
 And from this cave of death, tin s house of horror, 
 Quick let me snatch thee to thy Romeo s arms 
 
 Here he pounced upon me, plucked me up in his arms like an un 
 comfortable bundle, and staggered down the stage with me. 
 
 JUMET. ( aside. ) Oh, you ve got me up horridly ! that 11 never do ; let me 
 down, pray let me down. 
 
 ROMEO. There, breathe a vilal spirit on thy lips, 
 
 And call thee back, my soul, to life and love ! 
 
 JULIET. (aside.} Pray put me down; you ll certainly throw me down it you 
 don t set me on the ground directly. 
 
 In the midst of " cruel cursed fate," his dagger fell out of his dress ; 
 1, embracing him tenderly, crammed it back again, because I knew 1 
 should want it at the end. 
 
 ROMEO. Tear not our heart-strings thus ! 
 
 They crack ! they break! Juliet! Juliet ! (dies.} 
 JULIET, (to corpse.} Am I smothering you ? 
 
 Coai SE. ( to Juliet. ) Not at all ; could you be so kind, do you think, as tu 
 put my wig on again for me ? it has fallen off. 
 
2M JOURNAL. 
 
 JULIET. ( to corpse.] I m afraid I can t, but I II thro\v my muslin veil over it 
 You ve broken the phial, have n t you? 
 ( Corpse nodded. ) 
 
 JULIET. ( to corpse. ) Where s your dagger ? 
 CORPSE. ( to Juliet. } Pon my soul, I don t know. 
 
 Sunday, \5th. 
 
 By half-past ten we were packed in what in this country is termed an 
 exclusive extra, i. e. a stage-coach to ourselves, and progressing towards 
 Washing! on. The coach was comfortable enough, and the country, for 
 the first twelve or fifteen miles, owing to the abominable account I had 
 heard of it from every body, disappointed me rather agreeably. Itwas 
 by no means so dreary or desolate as I had been led to expect. There 
 was considerable variety in its outline, and the quantity of cedar thick 
 ets scattered over it took away from the comfortless threadbare look 
 of the wintry woods. Threadbare, indeed, the trees can scarce he call 
 ed ; for the leaves of the black oak, instead of falling as they fade, re 
 main upon the branches, and give the trees more the effect of being 
 lightning-struck, or accidentally blasted, than withered by the fail- 
 course of the seasons. I think the effect is more disagreeable than that 
 of absolutely bare leafless boughs. When near, the trees look singu- 
 Jary deplorable and untidy, although at the distance, the red-brown of 
 the faded oaks mingling with the bright, vivid, green cedars, and here 
 and there a silver-barked buttonwood tree raising its white delicate 
 branches from among them, produce a very agreeable and harmo 
 nious blending to the eye. The soil, the banks by the road-side, and 
 broken ridges of ravines, and water-courses, attracted my attention by 
 the variety and vividness of their colours; the brightest red and yel 
 low, and then again pale green, and rich warm gravel-colour. I 
 wished I had been a geologist. How much pleasure of reflection and 
 contemplation is lost to the ignorant, whose outward sense wanders over 
 the objects that surround it, deriving from them but half the delight 
 that they give the wise and well-informed; even fancy is at fault, for 
 fancy itself scarce devises images more strange, and beautiful, and won 
 derful, than the reality of things presents to those who understand their 
 properties and natures. The waters were all fast frozen up, and one or 
 two little pools, all curdled with ice, and locked up in deep r;velly 
 
JOURNAL. 235 
 
 basins, looked like onyx stones set in gold. As for the road, we had 
 been assured it was exceedingly good; but mercy on us! I can t think 
 of it without aching. Here we went up, up, up, and there we went down, 
 down, down, now, I was in my father s lap, and now I was half out 
 of window. The utter impossibility of holding one s self in any one 
 position for two minutes is absolutely ridiculous. Sometimes we laugh 
 ed, and at other times we groaned, at our helpless and hopeless condi 
 tion ; but at last we arrived, with no bones broken, al about three o clock, 
 at the capital and seat of government of ihe United Slates. ( ) Upon 
 the height immediately above the city is situated the Capitol, a very 
 handsome building, of which the Americans are not a little proud; but it 
 seems placed there by mistake, so little do the miserable untidy hovels 
 above, and the scattered unfinished red-brick town below, accord with 
 its patrician marble and high-sounding title. We drove to Gadsby s, 
 which is an inn like a little town, with more wooden galleries, flights of 
 steps, passages, door-ways, exits, and entrances, than any building I 
 ever saw : it reminded me of the house in Tieck s Love-charm. We had 
 not been arrived a quarter of an hour, when in walked Mr. and 
 
 (>) In most European countries, the seat of government and residence of the 
 ruling powers and foreign ambassadors is the capital, and generally the largest, 
 most populous, most wealthy, and most influential city of the kingdom the place 
 of all others to which travellers would resort to become acquainted with its poli 
 tical, literary, and social spirit. In this, however, as in most other respects, this 
 country differs from all others; and the spirit of independence, which renders 
 every state a republic within itself, gives to each its own capital, the superior 
 merits of which are advocated with no little pride and jealousy by the natives of 
 the slate to which it belongs. Thus, New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Balti 
 more, Charleston, and New Orleans, are all capitals; each of them fulfilling in a 
 much higher degree than Washington the foreigner s idea of that word. Indeed 
 I cannot conceive any thing tbat would more amaze an European than to be 
 transported into Washington, and told he was in the metropolis of the United 
 States ; nor, indeed, could any thing give him a less just idea of the curious poli 
 tical construction, and widely-scattered resources, of the country. Washington, 
 in fact, is to America what Downing and Parliament Streets are to London a 
 congregation of government offices; where political characters, secretaries, clerks, 
 place-holders, and place-seekers, mosl do congregate. 
 
236 JOURNAL. 
 
 Captain , and presently Mr. . They sat for some time dis 
 
 cussing, laughing, quizzing, and being funny, and then departed. Cap 
 tain was telling us a story about a man somewhere up in the lost 
 
 lands, who was called Philemon, and whose three sons were pagaaed 
 (christened, I suppose, one can t say,) Romulus, Remus, and Tiberius, 
 
 I thought this was too good to be true; and D and I,. laughing over 
 
 it at dinner, agreed that we wished any thing of the sort had happened 
 to us. " Some bread, waiter : what is your name ?" said I to the black 
 who was waiting upon us. " Horatius !" was the reply ; which sent me 
 and D into fits. 
 
 Monday, \ 4th. 
 
 When I came in to breakfast, found Mr. , whom I like mainly. 
 
 While he was here, Dr. and came in. I gave the latter a 
 
 most tremendous grasp of the hand : it was like seeing a bit of England 
 to see him. He said to me, " Oh, how strange it is to see you here; " 
 which caused my eyes to fill with tears, for, Heaven knows, it feels 
 strange enough. They had hardly been seated two minutes, when in 
 rushed a boy to call us to rehearsal. I was as vexed as might be. 
 
 They all departed; faithfully promising to come again, and have a 
 
 long talk about the old country : we then set forth to rehearsal. The 
 theatre is the tiniest little box that ever was seen, not much bigger, I 
 verily think, than the baby s play-house at Versailles. When I came 
 to perceive who the company were, and that sundry of our Baltimore 
 comrades were come on hither, I begged to be excused from rehearsing, 
 as they had all done their parts but a few days before with me. At 
 
 about two o clock, Mr. came to take us to the Capitol. Mr. - 
 
 was in the drawing-room. He had just seen the President; and it 
 seems, that far from coming to any accommodation with the South 
 Carolinians, there is an immediate probability of their coming to blows. 
 They say, the old General is longing for a fight; and, most assuredly, to 
 fight would be better, in this instance, than to give in ; for to yield would 
 be virtually to admit the right of every individual state to dictate to the 
 whole government. We walked up to the Capitol : the day was most 
 beautifully bright and sunny, and the mass of white building, with its 
 terraces and columns, stood out in fine relief against the cloudless blue 
 sky. We went first into the senate, or upper house, because Webster 
 
JOURNAL 2S7 
 
 \\"ds speaking, whom I especially wished to hear. The room itself is 
 neither large nor lofty ; the senators sit in two semi-circular rows, turned 
 towards the President, in comfortable arm-chairs. On the same ground, 
 and literally sitting among the senators, were a whole regiment of ladies, 
 whispering, talking, laughing, and fidgeting. A gallery, level with the 
 floor, and only divided by a low partition from the main room, ran 
 round the apartment : this, too, was filled with pink, and blue, and 
 yellow bonnets ; and every now and then, while the business of the 
 house was going on, and Webster speaking, a tremendous bustle, and 
 waving of feathers, and rustling of silks, would be heard, and in came 
 streaming a reinforcement of political beauties, and then would com 
 mence a jumping up, a sitting down, a squeezing through, and a how- 
 d -ye-doing, and a shaking of hands. The senators would turn round ; 
 even Webster would hesitate, as if bothered by the row, and, in short, the 
 whole thing was more irregular, and unbusiness-like, than any one could 
 have imagined. ( ) Webster s face is very remarkable, particularly the 
 forehead and eyes. The former projects singularly, absolutely over 
 hanging the latter, which have a very melancholy, and occasionally 
 rather wild, expression. The subject upon which he was speaking was 
 not one of particular interest, an estimate of the amount of French 
 spoliations, by cruizers and privateers, upon the American commerce. 
 The heat of the room was intolerable; and after sitting till I was nearly 
 
 ( ) As the winter resort of all ihc leading political men oi the Union, Wash 
 ington presents many attractions in point of society. Their wives and daughters, 
 frequently the reigning beauties of their respective slates and towns, generally 
 accompany them thither during the session ; and this congregating of people from 
 all parts of the country, together with the foreign ministers residing there, and the 
 travellers drawn thither from mere curiosity, combine to give more variety to 
 the gaieties of Washington than those of any of the other cities in the Union 
 can boast. The Capitol is a favourite lounge in the morning ; and the American 
 lady-politicians are just as zealous in their respective parties as our own. I don t 
 know, however, that they would much relish listening to a long debate from thai 
 dismal hole, the lantern of the House of Commons, where one may listen, indeed 
 ;md even just manage to see, but where to be seen is an utter impossibility ; 
 
 neither do I think that many of them would stand for four long hours, as Miss 
 
 and poor Lady did, during Brougham s famous reform bill speech. 
 
238 JOURNAL. 
 
 suffocated, we adjourned to the House of Representatives. On our way 
 thither, we crossed a very beautiful circular vestibule, which holds Ihe 
 centre of (he building. It was adorned with sundry memorable passages 
 in American history, done into pictures by Colonel Trumbull. In the 
 House of Representatives we were told we should hear nothing of 
 
 interest, so turned off, under Mr. s escort, to the Library, which is 
 
 a comfortable well -sized room, where we looked over Andulon s 
 Ornithology, a beautiful work, and saw a man silling, with his feet upon 
 the table, reading, which is an American fashion. Met half the New 
 York world there. After we had stayed there some time, we went into 
 the House of Representatives. The room itself is lofty and large, and 
 very handsome, but extremely ill-constructed for the voice, which is 
 completely lost among the columns, and only reaches the gallery, where 
 listeners are admitted, in indistinct and very unedifying murmurs. The 
 members not unfrequently sit with their feet upon their desks. We 
 walked out upon the terrace, and looked at the view of the Potomac, and 
 the town, which, in spile of the enlivening effect of an almost summer s 
 sky, looked dreary and desolate in the extreme. We then returned 
 home. At half-past five, we went to the theatre. We were a long 
 time before we could discover, among the intricate dark little passages, 
 our own private entrance, and were as nearly as possible being carried 
 into the pit by a sudden rush of spectators making their way thither : 
 I wish we had been ; I think I should like to have seen myself very 
 much. The theatre is absolutely like a doll s play-house : it was com 
 pletely crammed with people. I played ill ; I cannot act tragedy within 
 half a yard of the people in the boxes. By ihe by, a theatre may very 
 easily be too small for tragedies which is admirably adapted to comedies. 
 In the latter species of dramatic representations, the incidents, characters, 
 manners, and dresses, are, for the most part, modern, such as we 
 meet with, or can easily imagine, in our own drawing-rooms, and 
 among our own society. There is little if any exaggeration of colour 
 ing necessary, and no great exertion of fancy needful either in the actor 
 or audience in executing and witnessing such a performance. On the 
 contrary, comedy, high comedy, generally embodying the manners, 
 tone, and spirit of the higher classes of society, the smaller the space, 
 consistent with ease and grace of carriage, in which such personifications 
 take place, the less danger there is of the actor s departing from that 
 
JOURNAL. 259 
 
 natural, quiet, and refined deportment and delivery, which are, in the 
 present day, the general characteristics of polished society. T is other 
 wise with tragic representations. They are unnatural, nol positively, 
 but comparatively unnatural; the incidents are, for the most part, 
 strange, startling, unusual ; and though they always must he within 
 possibility, in order to excite the sympathies of beholders, though 
 some of them may even be historical facts, yet they are, for the most 
 part, events which come within the probabilities of few of us, and this 
 renders necessary a degree of excitement and elevation in the mind of 
 the spectator, foreign to, and at variance with, the critical spirit of prosaic 
 reality. Again, the scene of a comedy is generally a drawing-room; 
 and the smaller the stage, the greater is the possibility of rendering it 
 absolutely like what we all have seen, and are daily in the habit of seeing; 
 but to represent groves anil mountains, or l<;kes, or the dwellings of the 
 kings of the earth, satisfactorily to the spectator s mind, there must be a 
 certain distance observed, from which the fancy may take its stand for the 
 best perception of what is intended. Whereas, in closer contact with such 
 scenes, not only does their immediate proximity convey an unpleasing 
 consciousness of the unreality of the whole, but the near and absolute 
 detail of paint, canvass, and gilding, is obtruded in a manner that 
 destroys all illusion, and, by disturbing the effect of the whole upon the 
 spectator, necessarily weakens that part which depends solely upon the 
 actor. The same thing applies to dress. Foil-sloue, paste, and coloured 
 glass, by French ingenuity have been manufactured into toys, which, 
 with the help of distance, may be admitted as representing the splendours 
 of Eastern costume, or even the glittering trappings of those gaudy little 
 superhumans, the fairies. But nearness utterly dissolves the spell, and 
 these substitutes for magnificence become palpable impositions, and very 
 often most ludicrous ones. I have often been accused of studying my 
 altitudes; but the truth is, that most things that are presented to my 
 imagination, instead of being mere abstractions, immediately assume 
 form and colour, and become pictures; these I constantly execute on the 
 stage as I had previously seen them in my fancy : but as few picturs 
 as large as life admit of being seen to best effect immediately close to tho 
 spectator, so the whole effect produced by a graceful attitude, fine 
 colours, or skilful grouping on the stage, is considerably diminished when 
 the s:ace is restricted, and the audience brought too near the per- 
 
2/iO JOURNAL. 
 
 formers. So much for little theatres. came in after the play. He 
 
 told us that as he was coming out of the theatre, a Kentuckian accosted 
 him with, "Well, what do you think of that ere gal?" "Oh," 
 
 hesitatingly replied , U I don t quite know." u Well," retorted 
 
 the questioner, " any how, I guess she s o some account ! " 
 
 Tuesday, \5tli. 
 
 At eleven o clock, Mr. called. Went with him to see ihe origi 
 nal of the Declaration of Independence, also a few medals, for the most 
 part modern ones, and neither of much beauty or curiosity. Afterwards 
 went to the War-Office, where we saw sundry Indian properties, 
 hows and arrows, canoes, smoking-pipes, and, what interested me much 
 more, the pictures of a great many savage chiefs, and one or two Indian 
 women. The latter were rather pretty : the men were not any of them 
 handsome; scorn round the mouth, and cunning in the eyes, seemed to 
 he the general characteristic of all their faces. There was a portrait of 
 lied Jacket, which gave me a most unpoetical low-life impression of thai 
 great palaverer. The names of many of them delighted me, as, the 
 Kver-awake; the Man that stands and strikes; the North Wind. One 
 of the women s names amused me a great deal, ihe Woman thai spoke 
 first ; which title occasioned infinite surmise among us as to the occasion 
 on which she earned it. After we had done seeing what was to he seen, 
 we went on to the President s house, which is a comfortless handsome- 
 looking building, with a withered grass-plot enclosed in wooden palings 
 in front, and a desolate reach of uncultivated ground down to the river 
 
 behind. Mr. gave us a most entertaining account of the levees, or 
 
 rather public days, at the President s house. Every human being has a 
 right to present himself there ; the consequence is, that great numbers 
 of the very commonest sort of people used to rush in, and follow about 
 Ihe servants who carried refreshments, seizing upon whatever they could 
 get, and staring and pushing about, to the infinite discomfiture of the 
 more respectable and better-behaved part of the assembly. Indeed, the 
 nuisance became so great, that they discontinued the eatables, and in 
 
 great measure got rid of the crowd. Mr. assured me that on one 
 
 of these occasions, two ladies had themselves lifted up and seated on the 
 chimney-piece, in order to have a better view of the select congregation 
 
JOURNAL. 241 
 
 beneath them. Mr. left us to go to the Capitol, and we came 
 
 home. , Mr. , and Captain called. We sat discussing 
 
 names; which, in this country, are certainly more ambitious than in 
 
 any other in the world. ( ) Besides Captain s classical family, Mr. 
 
 _ assured us that he knew of a man whose name was Return Jonathan 
 
 Meiys; and swore to one in New York called Alonzo Leontes Aga 
 memnon Beaugardus. I have myself seen a Harmanus Bogys, Aquila 
 Jones, and Alpheus Brett; but I have not been favoured with an ac 
 quaintance with any such names as they quoted. appears to me 
 
 altered since I saw him in England. He was always silent, and quiet, 
 and gentle ; but there was an air of complacency and contented cheer 
 fulness about him, which I think he has very much lost : he looks sad 
 and careworn. I was sorry to see it. After dinner, sat writing journal. 
 
 Mr. came in and sat some time with us. He is very clever and 
 
 agreeable, and I like him greatly. 
 
 Wednesday,} 6th. 
 
 After breakfast, went to rehearsal. At half past twelve, Mr. 
 
 came to ride with me. The horse he had gotten for me was base; but 
 never jnind, the day \vas exquisitely mild antl bright, the sort of early 
 spring-feeling day, when in England the bright gold and pale delicate 
 
 ( ) The love of the sublime and beautiful, those aspirations after something 
 more refined, more exalted and perfect, than this world affords, in short, that 
 spiritual propensity classed in its many and various manifestations by the phreno 
 logists tinder the title of ideality, will have some vent, and, under circumstances 
 most adverse to its existence, will creep out at some channel or another, and 
 vindicate human nature by flourishing in some shape over the narrowest, home 
 liest, lowliest, and least favourable guise it may put on. Certainly America is 
 not the country of large idealities, it is the very re verse; if I may create a bump, 
 it is the country of large realities, / . e. large acquisitiveness, large causality, 
 large caution, and small veneration and wonder. Nathless some ideality must 
 needs be, and is, and it creeps out in Christian names. I have heard semp 
 stresses called Amanda and Enuneline, and we had a housemaid in New England 
 called Cynthia. Our village carpenter is named Rudolph ; and if the spirit of 
 the people appears to me unimaginative and unpoetical, I take great comfort in 
 flu ir fine names. 
 
242 JOURNAL. 
 
 violet of the crocus buds begin to break the rich dark mould, and the 
 fragrant gummy leaves of the lilac bushes open their soft brown fclds. 
 We had a very pleasant ride through some pretty woodlands on the op 
 posite side of the river. At half-past five, went to the theatre. The 
 play was the Hunchback : the house was crowded. In the last scene, 
 Master Walter upbraided me thus : 
 
 The engineer 
 
 Who lays the last stone of his sea-built tower, 
 And, smiling at it, bids the winds and waves 
 To roar and whistle now but in a night 
 Beholds the tempest sporting in its place, 
 May look agash as I did. 
 
 Also in the exclamation, 
 
 Fathers, make straws your children : nature s nothing, 
 
 Blood nothing : once in other veins it flows, 
 
 It no more yawneth for the parent flood 
 
 Than doth the stream that from the stream disparts. 
 
 Mr. - and came in after the play. We had a discussion as to 
 
 how far real feeling enters into our scenic performances. T is hard to 
 say : the general question it would be impossible to answer, for acting is 
 alogether a monstrous anomaly. John Kemble and Mrs. Siddons were 
 always in earnest in what they were about; Miss O Neill used to cry bit 
 terly in all her tragedy parts ; whilst Garrick could be making faces and 
 playing tricks in the middle of his finest points, and Kean would talk 
 gibberish while the people were in an uproar of applause at his. In my 
 own individual instance, I know that sometimes I could turn every word 
 I am saying into burlesque (never Shakspeare, by the by), and at 6thers 
 my heart aches, and I cry real, bitter, warm tears, as earnestly as if I was 
 in earnest. 
 
 Thursday, \1tli. 
 
 Sat writing journal till twelve o clock, when we went to Mr. s, 
 
 Took him up, and thence proceeded to the Presidency to be presented 
 in due form. His Excellency Andrew Jackson is very tall and thin, but 
 erect and dignified in his carriage a good specimen of a fine old well- 
 
JOURNAL. 2W 
 
 battered soldier. His hair is very thick and grey : his manners are per 
 fectly simple and quiet, therefore very good ; so are those of his niece, 
 
 Mrs. , who is a very pretty person, and lady of the house, Mrs. 
 
 Jackson having been dead some time. He talked about South Carolina, 
 and entered his protest against scribbling ladies, assuring us that the 
 whole of the present southern disturbances had iheir origin in no larger 
 a source than the nib of the pen of a lady. Truly, if this be true, the 
 lady must have scribbled to some purpose. We sat a little more than a 
 quarter of an hour ; Mr. was calling at the same time.( ) We after 
 wards adjourned to Mr. s house. 
 
 Appointed Mr. to come down direcily and ride with me. Drove 
 
 with my father and Mr. to leave cards on , and then walked 
 
 home. The day was bright and fine, but very cold. Habited, and at 
 
 about one o clock Mr. called for me. On going to the door, I found 
 
 him and his horse, and a strange, tall, grey horse for me, and a young 
 
 gentleman of the name of , to whom I understood it belonged, and 
 
 whom Mr. introduced to me as very anxious to join my parly. I 
 
 was a little startled at this, as I did not quite think Mr. ought to 
 
 have brought any body to ride with me without my leave. However, 
 as I was riding his horse, I was just as well pleased that he was by, for 
 
 ( ) I am neither sufficiently interested nor sufficiently well informed in the po 
 litics of this country to have conceived any opinion of General Jackson, beyond 
 that which the floating discussions of the day might suggest. Of his merits as a 
 statesman I am totally incapable of judging, or of the effect which his peculiar 
 policy is calculated to have upon the country. When first I came here I heard 
 and saw that he was the man of the people. In the dispute with South Carolina, 
 his firmness and decision of character struck me a good deal; and when, in con 
 sequence of the temporary distress occasioned by his alteration of the currency, a 
 universal howl was for a short time raised against him, which he withstood without 
 a moment s flinching, I honoured him greatly. Of his measures I know nothing ; 
 but firmness, deJermination, decision, I respect above all things: and if the 
 old General is, as they say, very obstinate, why obstinacy is so far more estimable 
 than weakness, especially in a ruler, that I think he sins on the right side of the 
 question. 
 
244 JOURNAL. 
 
 I don t like having the responsibility of such valuable property as a pri 
 vate gentleman s horse to take care of. I told him this, alleging it as a 
 reason for my preferring to ride an indifferent hack horse, about which 
 I had no such anxiety. He replied that I need have none about his. I 
 told him laughingly that I would give him two dollars for the hire of it, 
 and then I should feel quite happy; all which nonsense passed as non 
 sense should, without a comment. He is a son of : I thought him 
 
 tolerably pleasant and well informed. * * 
 
 I would have a man who lived in the wretchedest corner of the earth 
 think his own country the first of countries; for t is noble and natural, 
 one of the most respectable instincts in the human heart. -We rode tHl 
 
 half-past three. The horse I was upon was, Mr. assured me, an 
 
 English one, but he had been long enough in this world to learn racking, 
 and forget every other more Christian pace; he tired me dreadfully. Af 
 ter dinner, wrote journal till lime to go to the theatre. The play was the 
 School for Scandal ; in the fourth act of which Joseph Surface assured 
 
 me that 1 was a plethora ! ! J Mr. came in and supped with us 
 
 after the play. He gave us a very interesting account of a school that had 
 been attempted to be formed in Massachusetts, for the purpose of educat 
 ing voting men of the savage tribes, w 7 ho were willing to become Chris 
 tians, and receive instruction. It was obliged, however, to be given up, 
 in consequence of several of them having fallen in love with and married 
 American girls, whom they took away into the woods, many of them after 
 they were there returning to their savage ways of living, which must 
 have placed their wretched Christian wives in a horrible situation. 
 
 Friday, \StJi. 
 
 At eleven, Mr called to takeD and myself to the War-Of 
 fice : I wanted her to see the Indian spoils there. On our way thither, 
 he read us some very pretty verses which he had written upon the subject 
 of the u woman who spoke first." When we had seen what we wanted 
 to see, we returned home, and I began to habit. While doing so, received 
 
 a most comical Yankee note, signed by Mr. ,but written, I am sure, 
 
 by Captain , to apprize me that the former was unwell, but that he, 
 
JOURNAL. 245 
 
 Captain , would accompany me on horseback, if I pleased. The 
 
 note was exquisite. I finished dressing, and then we set off. I charged 
 
 Capiain with the note, arid he pleaded guilty, the thing was 
 
 evident. While we were riding, Captain told me sundry most 
 
 exquisite native morceaux, and one thing that half-killed me wilh 
 
 laughing. Mr. s negro servant and Mr. s conversing together 
 
 about me, one asked the other if he had seen me yet at the theatre, to 
 
 which Mr. s man replied, ." No, sir; I have had the pleasure of seeing 
 
 Miss Kemble in private society : " he brings my horse down every 
 morning for me ! * * * * 
 
 Perhaps, after all, life is worth no more than a laugh, and all its strange 
 mysteries of sin and suffering, its summer dreams of excellence innate 
 and to be acquired, its fond yearning affections, its deep passions, itshigh 
 and glorious tendings, all but jests to make the worldly-wise smile, 
 and the believers in them despair. God keep me from such thoughts - 
 
 --they are dread ful ! * 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 After dinner, wrote journal. At half-past five, went to the theatre : the 
 play was the Hunchback, the house was very good. I wonder if any 
 body on earth can form the slightest idea of the interior of this wretched 
 little theatre; t is the smallest I ever was in. The proprietors are poor, 
 the actors poorer; and the grotesque mixture of misery, vulgarity, stage- 
 finery, and real raggedness, is beyond every thing strange, and sad, and 
 revolting, it reminds me constantly of some of Hogarth s pictures, and 
 passages in Goethe s Wilhelm Meister. A fter the play, came home and 
 supped. By the by, just as I had done breakfast this morning, Judge - 
 called, who is the most exquisite original I have met with even in this 
 land of their abundance. He gave me a long scolding for getting up so 
 late, and assured me that I meant to settle in this country, at the same 
 time drawing an enchanting picture of rural happiness to the west, a 
 cottage by a rivulet, with two cows, and just enough to starve upon ! 
 I think I see myself there. This sentimental prophecy was prefaced by 
 a remark that he knew I was very romantic, and interrupted every two 
 minutes by a dexterous expectoral interjection, which caused me nearly 
 to jump off my chair with dismay. 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 Saturday, Will. 
 
 Giorno d orrore! but I won t anticipate. They have settled to act 
 Much Ado about Nothing, instead of the Inconstant. I have no clothes 
 for Beatrice, but that don t matter. After breakfast, went to rehear 
 sal, and then walked with my father to see a very pretty model of what is 
 to be the town-hall. It never will be, for the corporation are as .poor as 
 
 Job s kittens (Americanism communicated by Captain ), and the 
 
 city of Washington itself is only kept alive by Congress. Talking of the 
 city of Washington,- t is the strangest thing by way of a town that can 
 be fancied. It is laid out to cover, I should think, some ten miles square, 
 but the houses are here, there, and no where : the streets, conventionally 
 not properly so called, are roads, crooked or straight, where buildings 
 are intended to be. Every now and then an interesting gap of a quarter 
 of a mile occurs between those houses that are built : in the midst of the 
 town, you can t help fancying you are in the country ; and between 
 wooden palings, with nothing to be seen on either side but cedar bushes 
 and sand, you are informed you are in the midst of the town. The 
 Elysian Fields is a broken patch of moorland, sand, and gravel : the 
 . Jardin des Plantes is a nursery-ground full of slips of shrubs a foot and a 
 half high; the Tiber, alias Goose Creek, is an unhappy-looking ditch; 
 and Washington altogether struck rne as a rambling red-brick image 
 of futurity, where nothing is, but all things are to be. Came home and 
 
 habited. At half-past twelve, Captain came for me; just as we 
 
 were going, called. He was on horseback, and asked leave to join 
 
 us, which I agreed to very readily. He was pilot, and led us round and 
 about, through the woods, and across the waters; all of which, as Cap 
 tain observed, was in the day s work. We returned at half-past 
 three. Directly after dinner, I set out to pay sundry cards. The day 
 had been heavenly, bright, and warm, and balmy ; the evening was 
 beautifully soft ; and as I drove over hill and dale, marsh and moorland, 
 through the city of Washington, paying my cards, the stars came out one 
 after another in the still sky, and the scattered lights of the town looked 
 like a capricious congregation of Jack-o -lanterns, some high, some low, 
 some here, some there, showing more distinctly, by the dark spaces be- 
 ween them, the enormous share that emptiness has in the congressional 
 
JOURNAL. 247 
 
 city. One of my visits lay nearly three miles out of town, so that I was 
 not back until six o clock. As I came rushing along the corridor, I met 
 
 D coming to meet me, who exclaimed, with an air of mingled horror 
 
 and satisfaction, "Oh, here you are ! here is coffee and Mr. wait 
 ing for you!" I went into the room, and found a goodly-looking per 
 sonage, old enough to know better, sitting with my father, who appeared 
 amazingly disturbed, held an open letter in his hand, and exclaimed, the 
 moment I came in, "There, sir, there is the young lady to speak for 
 herself." I courtesied, and sat down. " Fanny," quoth my father, 
 " something particularly disagreeable has occurred, pray, canyon call 
 to mind any thing you said during the course of your Thursday s ride, 
 
 which was likely to be offensive to Mr. , or any thing abusive of this 
 
 country?" As I have already had sundry specimens of the great talent 
 there is for tattle in the exclusive coteries of this gossiping new world, I 
 merely untied my bonnet, and replied, that I did not at that moment 
 recollect a word that I had said during my whole ride, and should 
 certainly not give myself any trouble to do so. " Now, my dear," 
 said my father, his own eyes flashing with indignation, "don t put 
 yourself into a passion ; compose yourself, and recollect. Here is a 
 letter I have just received." He proceeded to read it, and the contents 
 
 were to this effect that during my ride with Mr. I had said I did 
 
 not choose to ride an American gentleman s horse, and had offered him 
 two dollars for the hire of his ; that moreover, I had spoken most dero- 
 gatorily of America and Americans; inconsequence of all which, if my 
 father did not give some explanation, or make some apology to the pub 
 lic, I should certainly be hissed off the stage, as soon as I appeared on 
 it that evening. This was pleasant. I stated the conversation as it had 
 passed, adding, that as to any sentiments a person might express on any 
 subject, liberty of opinion, and liberty of speech, \vere alike rights which 
 belonged to every body, and that, with a clue regard to good feeling, and 
 good breeding, they were rights which nobody ought, and I never would 
 forego. Mr. opened his eyes. I longed to add, that any conver 
 sation between me and any other person was nobody s business but mine, 
 and his or hers, and that the whole thing was, on the part of the young 
 gentleman concerned, the greatest piece of blackguardism, and on that of 
 the old gentleman concerned the greatest piece of twaddle, that it had ever 
 been my good fortune to hear of. " For," said Mr. , "not less than 
 
248 JOURNAL. 
 
 fifty members of Congress have already mentioned the matter to me." 
 Fifty old gossiping women ! why the whole thing is for all the world 
 like a village tatlle in England, among half a dozen old wives round 
 their tea-pots. All Washington was in dismay; and my evil deeds and 
 evil words were the town talk, fields, gaps, marshes, and all, rang with 
 them. This is an agreeable circumstance, and a display of national cha 
 racter highly entertaining and curious. ( r ) It gave me at the time, 
 
 ( ) The national vanity of the French, and pride and prejudice of the English 
 are proverbial : it is, however, fortunate for both that they carry these qualities 
 to such an excess, that it is a matter of extreme difficulty to shake the good opi 
 nion which they entertain of themselves. Thus, foreigners may visit England, as 
 Frenchmen have done, and swear that the sun never shines there, and that the 
 only ripe fruit the country affords is roasted apples. John Bull, nothing wroth, 
 wraps himself slill closer in his own dear self-approval, and, in the plenitude of 
 self-content, drinks his brown stout r and basks by gas-light. On his part, he 
 goes over to Paris, votes the whole beau pays de France horrible, because lie 
 can t get port wine to drink, or boiled potatoes to eat; in spite of which, Mon 
 sieur does not attempt to turn him out of his country, but eats his ragouts, and 
 drinks his chablis, and shrugs his shoulders at the savage islander, from the 
 seventh heaven of self-satisfaction. It were much to be desired that Americans, 
 had a little more national vanity, or national pride. Such an unhappily sensitive 
 community surely never existed in this world ; and the vengeance with which they 
 visit people for saying they don t admire or like them, would be really terrible ii 
 the said people were but as mortally afraid of abuse as they seem to be. I would 
 not advise either Mrs. Trollope, Basil Hall, or Captain Hamilton, ever to set their 
 feet upon this ground again, unless they are ambitious of being stoned to death. 
 I live myself in daily expectation of martyrdom; and as for any body attempting 
 to earn a livelihood here who has but as much as said he prefers the country 
 where he was born to this, he would stand a much better chance of thriving if he 
 were to begin business after confinement in the penitentiary. This unhappy 
 species of irritability is carried to such a degree here, that if you express an unfa 
 vourable opinion of any thing, the people are absolutely astonished at your 
 temerity. I remember, to my no little amusement, a Lady saying to me once, 
 -i I hear you are going to abuse us dreadfully ; of course, you II wait till you ga 
 back to England, and shen thower it down upon us finely." I assured her I was 
 not in the least afraid of staying where I was, and saying what I thought at the 
 same time. 
 
JOURNAL. 249 
 
 however, a dreadful side-ach, and nervous cough. I went to the 
 theatre, dressed, and came on the stage in the full expectation of being 
 hissed off it, which is a pleasant sensation, very, and made my heart 
 full of bitterness to think I should stand, as no woman ought to stand, 
 the mark of public insult. However, no such thing occurred, I went 
 oil and came off without any such trial of my courage ; but I had been so 
 much annoyed, and was still so indignant, that I passed the intervals 
 between my scenes in crying, which, of course, added greatly to the 
 mirth and spirit of my performance of Beatrice. In the middle of the 
 
 play, Mr. and Captain came behind the scenes, and then, 
 
 indeed, I was quite glad to see Englishmen; though their compassionate 
 sympathies for my wrongs, and tender fears lest I should catch cold 
 behind those horrid scenes, very nearly set me off crying again. A soft 
 word, when one is in deep commiseration of one s self, is very apt to open 
 Hie flood-gates; but I was ashamed to cry before them, so tried to keep 
 my heart-swellings down. When the play was over, came home. Mr. 
 came and supped with us. By the by, he called this morning be 
 fore I went out riding, and expressed many sorrows at our departure. 
 He is a clever and extremely well-informed man, and I like him very 
 
 much. When he was gone, sat talking over the affair. My father 
 
 was in a greater passion than I think I ever saw him before. I am sure 
 I would not have warranted one of that worthy young gentleman s 
 bones, if he had fallen in with him . I am very glad he did not ; for, to 
 knock a man down, even though he does deserve it, is a serious matter 
 lather. 
 
 Wednesday, 50f/t, Philadelphia. 
 
 After breakfast, practised for an hour : wrote journal. Mr. , the 
 
 wild-eyed, flowing-haired, white-waistcoated, velvet-collared, 
 
 called upon me. He sat some time asking me questions; but, since the 
 - affair, I have grown rather afraid of opening my mouth, and he had 
 the conversation chiefly to himself. Finished journal ; dined at half- past 
 
 three : after dinner, went and sat with Mrs. -. One Mr. , a 
 
 Boston man who was at Mrs. s ball last night, was in her room, 
 
 I was introduced to him, and he spoke of the s. * 
 
250 JOURNAL. 
 
 Sat with them till coffee -time. Went to the theatre at half-past five. 
 It poured with rain, in spite of which the house was very good : the play 
 was Fazio. When I came on in my fine dress, at the beginning of the 
 second act, the people hailed me with such a tremendous hurst of applause, 
 and prolonged it so much, that I was greatly puzzled to imagine what 
 on earth possessed them. I concluded they were pleased with my dress, 
 but could not help being rather amused at their vehement and continued 
 clapping, considering they had seen it several times before. However, 
 they ceased at last, and I thought no more about it. Towards the 
 time for the beginning of the third act, which opens with my being dis 
 covered waiting for Fazio s return, as I was silting in my dressing-room 
 
 working, D suddenly exclaimed, "Hark! what is that?" 
 
 opened the door, and we heard a tremendous noise of shouts and of 
 
 applause. " They are waiting for you, certainly," said D . She ran 
 
 out, and returned, saying, " The stage is certainly waiting for you, 
 Fanny, for the curtain is up. " I rushed out of the room ; but on opening 
 the door leading to the stage, I distinctly heard my father s voice address 
 ing the audience. I turned sick with a sort of indefinite apprehension, 
 and on enquiry found that at the beginning of the play a number of 
 handbills had been thrown into the pit, professing to quote my conversa 
 tion with Mr. at Washington, and calling upon the people toresent 
 
 my conduct in the grossest and most vulgar terms. This precious docu 
 ment had, it seems, been brought round by somebody to my father, who 
 immediately went on with it in his hand, and assured the audience that 
 the whole thing was a falsehood. I scarce heard what he said, though 
 I stood at the side scene : I was crying dreadfully with fright and indig 
 nation. How I wished I was a caterpillar under a green gooseberry- 
 bush! * 
 
 Oh, how I did wince to think of going on again after this scene, though 
 the feeling of the audience was most evident; for all the applause I had 
 fancied they bestowed upon my dress was, in fact, an unsolicited testi 
 mony of their disbelief in the accusation brought against me. They 
 received my father s words with acclamations ; and when the curtain 
 drew up, and I was discovered, the pit rose and waved their hats, and 
 the applause was tremendous. I was crying dreadfully, and could 
 
JOURNAL. 251 
 
 hardly speak however, I mastered myself and went on with my part, 
 though, what with the dreadful exertion that it is in itself, and the 
 painful excitement I had just undergone, I thought I should have fainted 
 before I got through with it. 
 
 Saturday, Feb. 2rf. 
 
 After breakfast, called to see how I did after my walk : he sat for 
 
 some time. At twelve, went out paying hills and;calls ; bought a German 
 
 awlina; sat some lime with old Mrs. , and spent a delightful hour 
 
 with Mr. and his family. He is a most agreeable person, but he 
 
 thinks loo well of acting. Came home ; dined at three ; Mr. and Mrs. 
 
 dined with us. After dinner, went into her room, and remained 
 
 there till time to go to ihe theatre. Young and Dr. came in. 
 
 The play was the Gamester : it was my benefit, and I am afraid the good 
 folks who addressed that amiable placard to the public will have been 
 rather ilf satisfied with their suggestion about my benefit. The house 
 was literally crammed, in consequence of that very circumstance, 
 crammed is the word. When the curtain drew up, they applauded me 
 without end, and I courtesied as profoundly as I was able ; indeed, lam 
 extremely obliged to this same excellent public, for they have testified 
 most satisfactorily every way the kindest feeling possible for me, and 
 the most entire faith in my good behaviour. I did not play well, my 
 voice was so dreadfully affected by my cough. 
 
 Monday, 4th. 
 
 Dined at three. After dinner, Mrs. came into our room, where 
 
 I sang and played till time to go to the theatre. The play was the Mer 
 chant of Venice, and Katharine and Petruchio for the farce; my 
 father s benefit : the house was crammed from floor to ceiling, as full as 
 it could hold : so much for the success of the hand-bills. Indeed, as 
 somebody suggested, I think if we could find the author of that placard 
 out we are bound to give him a handsome reward, for he certainly has 
 given us two of the finest benefits that ever were seen. I heard that a 
 man said the other day that he should not be surprised if my father had 
 (jot the whole of this up himself. Oh, day and night ! that such thoughts 
 
252 JOURNAL 
 
 should come into any human being s head. ( ) At the end, the people 
 shouted and shrieked for us. He went on, and made them a speech, 
 and I went on and made them a courtesy; and certainly they do deserve 
 the civillest of speeches, and lowest of courtesies from us, for they have 
 behaved most kindly and courteously tons; and, for mine own good part, 
 Hove the whole city of Philadelphia from this time forth, for evermore. ( a ) 
 
 ( ) 1 have been assured, I know not how truly, that the whole of this 
 affair originated with an Englishman. This piece of information was given me 
 by a person who said he knew such to be the fact, and also knew the man. 
 
 ( a ) It may not be amiss here to say one word with regard to the gratitude whicli 
 audiences in some parts of the world claim from actors, and about whicli I have 
 lately heard a most alarming outcry. Do actors generally exercise their profes 
 sion to please themselves and gratify their own especial delight in self-exhibition? 
 Is that profession in its highest walks one of small physical exertion and fatigue 
 (I say nothing of mental exertion), and in its lower paths is it one of much gain, 
 glory, or ease? Do audiences, on the other hand, use to come in crowds to 
 play-bouses to see indifferent performers ? and when there, do they, out of pure 
 charity and good-will, bestow their applause as well as their money upon tire 
 some performances ? I will answer these points as far as regards myself, and 
 therein express the gratitude which I feel towards the frequenters of theatres. I 
 individually disliked my profession, and had neither pride nor pleasure in the 
 exercise of it. I exercised it as a matter of necessity, to earn my bread, and 
 wily it was in the sweat of my brow. The parts which fell to my lot were of a 
 most laborious nature, and occasioned sometimes violent mental excitement, 
 always immense physical exertion, and sometimes both. In those humbler walks 
 of my profession, from whose wearisomeness I was exempted by my sudden favour 
 with the public, I have seen, though not known, the most painful drudgery, the 
 most constant fatigue, the most sad contrast between real cares and feigned 
 merriments, the most anxious, penurious, and laborious existence imaginable. 
 For the part of my questions which regarded the audiences, I have only to say, 
 tbat I never knew, saw, heard, or read of any set of people who went to a play 
 house to see what they did not like ; this being the case, it never occurred to me 
 that our houses were full but as a necessary consequence of our own attraction, 
 or that we were applauded but as the result of our own exertions. I was glad 
 the houses were full, because I was earning my livelihood, and wanted the money; 
 and I was glad the people applauded us, because it is pleasant to please , and 
 
JOURNAL. 253 
 
 Mr. came round to the stage door to bid us good-night ; and as we 
 
 drove off, a whole parcel of folk, who had gathered round the door to 
 
 human vanity will find some sweetness in praise, even when reason weighs its 
 worth most justly. Thus I cannot say that in general I had any great gratitude 
 towards my audiences. Once or twice, however, that feeling was excited hetween 
 me and my witnesses, and the circumstance of which I have spoken in my 
 journal was one of the instances. But ihis was a different matter altogether. 
 I was no longer before an audience labouring for their approbation as an 
 actress. I was dragged before so many judges in my own person, to answer 
 for words spoken in private conversation. The same clapping of hands, with 
 which they rewarded my exertions in my profession, was the only method by 
 which they could intimate the "not guilty," which was their judgment upon the 
 appeal that had been made to them against me; but with this difference, that I 
 never felt obliged to them, or grateful for their applause before, and did feel 
 .obliged and grateful for their verdict then. Now, as regards the benefit-nights 
 of actors, I do not observe that even on these occasions much gratitude is owing 
 to the people who attend them ; for I know, and so does every member of the 
 profession, that the oldest and best actor on any stage, the one who for a series 
 of years has appeared before audiences to whom his private respectability and 
 worth were well known, the longest-establishedya^oHr/Ve of the public (as they 
 are termed), will assuredly have empty houses on his benefit-nights, if, trusting 
 to the feeling of that public, to whom he owes so much gratitude, he failed to 
 secure the assistance of whatever star (tragedian, pantomimist, or dancing dog, 
 it matters not which\ happens to be the newest object of attraction. I speak 
 all this more particularly as regards this country, for it is here that I have heard 
 most of this species of cant. Gratitude is a good word and an excellent thing, 
 and neither in speaking or acting should it be misapplied. In the aristocratical 
 lands over the water, this nonsense about patronage might surprise one less; but 
 iu America it seems strange there should be any mistake about a simple matter 
 of traffic t is nothing in life else. We give our health, our strength, our 
 leisure, and our pleasure, for your money and your applause, neither of which 
 do we beg or borrow from you. This being the case, where lies the obligation, 
 and where the gratitude? As to the pretty speeches which actors make when 
 railed from behind the curtain, they always appeared to me very much of the 
 same order as advertisements in newspapers A. D. returns his grateful acknow 
 ledgments to the public for their liberal support, etc., etc. That calling perform- 
 
254 JOURNAL. 
 
 see us depart, set up a universal hurrah ! How strange a thing it is, that 
 popular shout. After all, Pitt or Canning could get no more for ihe finest 
 oratory that human lips ever uttered, or the wisest policy that human 
 brain ever devised. Sometimes they got the reverse; but then the 
 hereafter there s the rub ! Praise is so sweet to me that I would have 
 it lasting : above all, I would wish to feel that I deserved it. I must do 
 so if I am to value it a straw; and acting, even the best that ever was 
 seen, is, to my mind, but a poor claim to approbation. I think the ap 
 plause of an audience in a play-house should be reckoned with the friendly 
 and favourable opinions of a good-natured tipsy man, t is given under 
 excitement. Oh Lord ! how unsatisfactory all things are ! 
 
 Wednesday, \5th,New York. 
 
 After dinner, came in. He sat himself down, and presently was 
 
 over-head in reminiscences. His account of Tom Paine s escape from 
 the Conciergerie, on Ihe eve of being guillotined, was extremely interest 
 ing. His own introduction to, and subsequent acquaintance with, that 
 worthy, was equally so, and his summing up was highly characteristic. 
 "I tell ye, madam, the saving of that man s life was an especial provi 
 dence, that he might come over to this country, where his works have 
 done so much harm, and might have clone so much more, and just exem 
 plify the result of his own principles put into practice in his own person, 
 and show that the glorious light of reason, and the noble natural gifts of 
 man, of which he preached so much, would neither prevent a man s 
 becoming a drunkard and a spendthrift, nor a debased degraded being. 
 If Paine had been guillotined, madam, he would have been a martyr, 
 and his works would have had ten times the power of evil they had before. 
 But he lived to be a miserable low unthrift, and sot, and died neglected 
 and despised by all reputable and respectable individuals, and, I say 
 agaio, it w r as a manifest providence that he did so." We left the gentle 
 men to their wine for a short time, but were presently summoned back. 
 
 ers on after a play is a foreign, not an English, custom, and, to my mind, one 
 more honoured in the breach than in the observance. Extraordinary occasions 
 might warrant extraordinary demonstrations; but it is a pity to make that a 
 common ceremony, which, rarely granted, would he a gratifying testimony of 
 feeling, and excite rational gratitude in those on whom it was confarred. 
 
JOURNAL. 255 
 
 had gone to the theatre. began his history to me, and it was, 
 
 word for word, a repetition of Gait s book, except that occasionally it was 
 more touching. The pity of all this is, the man s own consciousness 
 that he is a lion. His vanity is almost as amusing as his recollections are 
 curious and interesting ; and though the tears were in my eye several 
 times while he described the blessed time he lived with his sweet Phoebe, 
 yet, at others, I could scarce help exclaiming, in the words of his own 
 countryman, " Heigh, cretur, cretur ! ihou hast unco planse o thysel ! " 
 He ended his narrative with a eulogy of women that would have warmed 
 
 the heart of a stone ; and to my utter surprise addressed Mr. with, 
 
 "Out upon ye, bachelors, all ! ye throw away your lives, and your life s 
 
 happiness! " This last attack of s seemed too much for Mr. ; 
 
 and, as I turned to him with the tears in my eyes, to desire he would 
 not laugh, which he was doing very heartily, he said he could n t stand 
 it any longer, and went away, apparently more amused than edified by 
 
 s appeal. 
 
 Thursday, \4ih. 
 
 St. Valentine s day ! I wish all these pretty golden days, which, like the 
 [lowers in the sundial of Linnaeus, were wont so gaily to mark the flight 
 of time, were not becoming so dim in our calendars; I wish St. Valen 
 tine s day, and May morning, and Christmas day, and New-Year s day, 
 were not putting off their holiday suits to wear the work-day russet of 
 their drudging fellows ; I wish we were not making all things, of all 
 
 .sorts, so completely of a neutral lint. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 I would n t be in the Reform Parliament of England for ten thousand 
 
 pounds ! , and , the bruiser, and the bankrupt ! Oh, shame, 
 
 England, shame! Poor England! 
 
 A RHAPSODY. 
 
 White lady, sitting on the sea, 
 Tell to me, oh, tell to rne, 
 How long shall thy reigning be, 
 White lady, sitting on the sea ? 
 
 Long as the oak with which I m crown d 
 Shall bear one leaf above the ground, 
 
256 JOURNAL. 
 
 Round which the crawling ivy s grasp 
 
 Its cursed tendrils does not clasp; 
 
 Long as one foot remains to stand 
 
 Firm on its own ancestral land; 
 
 Or one true man be left to claim 
 
 The burden of a noble name ; 
 
 Long as one Gothic shrine shall rise 
 
 With scutcheon d tomb, and banner d stall, 
 
 Or the blest glances of the skies, 
 
 Through storied casements dimly fall ; 
 
 Long as one heart shall beat to hear 
 
 Legends of the old valiant time ; 
 
 Long as the Sabbath wind shall bear 
 
 The music of one haunting chime. 
 
 White lady, silting on the sea, 
 Tell to me, oh, tell to me, 
 When shall thy downfalling be, 
 White lady, sitting on the sea? 
 
 When the vile kennel mud is thrown 
 Upon the ermine of the king, 
 And ihe old worships are cast down 
 Before a rabble s triumphing; 
 
 When toothless is young again, 
 
 To do the mischief ,he but dreams, 
 
 And little shall make more plain 
 
 The good that glitters through his schemes ; 
 When the steam-engine of the north 
 Leaves making essays and wry faces; j 
 And patriot Whigs forget the worth 
 Of pensions, power, pride, and places ; 
 When on the spot where Burke and Pitt 
 Earn d their high immortality, 
 Boxers and bankrupts boldly sit, 
 Then, then shall m\ downfalling be. 
 
JOURNAL. 257 
 
 Monday, 18th. 
 
 After breakfast, went to rehearsal ; came home and stitched at my 
 Francoise de Foix head-dress. My father is extremely unwell ; I scarce 
 think he will be able to get through his part to-night. After dinner, 
 practised, and read a canto in Dante. It pleases me, when I refer to 
 Biagioli s notes, to find that the very lines Alfieri has noted are those 
 under which I have drawn my emphatic pencil marks. At half-pasi 
 five, went to the theatre. The play was Macbeth, for my benefit : the 
 house was very full, and I played very ill. My father was dreadfully 
 exhausted by his work. I had an interesting discussion with Mr. -- 
 about the costume and acting of the witches in this awful play. I should 
 like to see them acted and dressed a little more like what they should 
 he, than they generally are. It has been always customary, Heaven 
 only knows why, to make low comedians act the witches, and to dress 
 them like old fish-women. Instead of the wild unearthly appearance 
 which Banquo describes, and which belongs to their most terrible and 
 grotesquely poetical existence and surroundings, we have three jolly-faced 
 fellows, whom we are accustomed to laugh at, night after night, hi 
 every farce on the stage, with as due a proportion of petticoats as any 
 woman, letting alone witch, might desire, jocose red faces, peaked hals*, 
 and broomsticks, which last addition alone makes their costume different 
 from that of Moll Flagon. If I had the casting of Macbeth, I would 
 give the witches to the first melo-di amatic actors on ihe stage, such 
 men as T. P. Cooke, and O. Smith, who understand all that belongs to 
 picturesque devilry to perfection, and give them such dresses as, with 
 out ceasing to be grotesque, should be a little more fanciful, and less ri 
 diculous than the established livery ; something that would accord a 
 little better with the blasted heath, the dark fungus-grown wood, the 
 desolate misty hill-side, and the flickering light of the caldron cave. ( ) 
 
 ( ) I would recommend Retsch s etchings of Macbeth to the study of all repre 
 sentatives of the witches : there is great sublimity and fearful ness in their figures 
 and altitudes. By the by, in looking over those unique etchings (I mean alt 
 those he has executed), the colossal genius of Shakspeare is brought more fully 
 in its vaslness to our conviction; for the genius of the artist, which has fallen - 
 
 i r. 
 
2i JOURNAL. 
 
 Wednesday, 20M. 
 
 After breakfast, and Mr. came. gave me the words 
 
 and tune of a bewitching old English ballad. Mr. called and sat 
 
 some time with me : I like him mainly, he s very pleasant and clever. 
 
 That handsome creature, Mine. , called with her daughter and her 
 
 son-in-law. Mr. and dined with us. After dinner, came to my 
 
 own room, sang over s ballad, and amused myself with writing one 
 
 of my own. At half-past five, took coffee, and off to the theatre. The 
 house was very full; play, the Stranger : I didn t play well : I d a gown 
 on that did not fit me, to which species of accident our art is marvel 
 lously subservient, for a tight arm-hole shall mar the grandest passage in 
 Queen Constance, and too long or too short a skirt keep one s heart cold 
 in the balcony scene in Juliet. Came home ; supped ; finished marking 
 the Winter s Tale. What a dense fool that fat old Johnson must have 
 been in matters of poetry ! his notes upon Shakspeare make one swear, 
 and his summing up of the Winter s Tale is worthy of a newspaper critic 
 of the present day, in spirit, I mean, not language ; Dr. Johnson always 
 Avrote good English. What dry, and sapless, and dusty earth his soul 
 must have been made of, poor fat man ! After all, t is even a greater 
 misfortune than fault to be so incapable of beauty. 
 
 no whit behind the first work of one of the first men of this age, sinks in utter 
 impotence under the task of illustrating Shakspeare. The wonder, and the 
 beauty, and the pity of Faust, are as strong and true in the outlines of Retsch. as in 
 the words of Goethe the drawings equal the poem; t is the highest praise they 
 can receive : and it is only when we turn from these perfect works, to contemplate 
 his outlines of Shakspeare, that we feel, by the force of comparison, how un 
 utterably beyond all other conceptions are those of Shakspeare. Retsch s etch 
 ings, both of Hamlet and Macbeth, are, compared with his German illustrations, 
 failures. Hamlet is the better of the two ; but he seems to have quailed under 
 the other in utter inability Macbeth himself falls far short of all that he should 
 be made to express ; and as to Lady Macbeth, Retsch seems to have thought he 
 had better not meddle with her. 
 
JOURNAL. 259 
 
 BALLAD. 
 
 The Lord s son stood at the clear spring head, 
 
 The May on the other side, 
 " And stretch me your lily hand," he said, 
 
 " For I must mount and ride. 
 
 " And waft me a kiss across the brook, 
 
 And a curl of your yellow hair ; 
 Come summer or winter, I ne er shall look 
 
 Again on your eyes so fair. 
 
 Bring me my coal-black steed, my squire, 
 
 Bring Fleetfoot forth ! " he cried ; 
 " For three-score miles he must not tire, 
 
 To bear me to my bride. 
 
 " His foot must be swift, though my heart be slow: 
 
 He carries me towards my sorrow; 
 To the Earl s proud daughter I made my vow, 
 
 And I must wed her to-morrow." 
 
 The Lord s son stood at the altar stone, 
 
 The Earl s proud daughter near: 
 " And what is that ring you have gotten on. 
 
 That you kiss so oft and so dear ? 
 
 " Is it a ring of the yellow gold, 
 
 Or something more precious and bright ? 
 Give me that ring in my hand to hold, 
 
 Or I plight ye no troth to-night." 
 
 " It is not a ring of the yellow gold, 
 
 But something more precious and bright; 
 But never shall hand, save my hand, hold 
 
 This ring by day or night." 
 
 " And now I am your wedded wife, 
 
 Give me the ring, I pray. 
 " You may take my lands, you may take my life. 
 
 But never this ring away." 
 
263 JOURNAL. 
 
 They sat at the board ; and the lady bride 
 
 Red wine in a goblet pour d; 
 " And pledge me a health, sweet sir," she cried- 
 " My husband and my lord." 
 
 The cup to his lips he had scarcely press d, 
 
 When he gasping drew his breath, 
 His head sank down on his heaving breast, 
 
 And he said, "It is death! it is death! 
 
 " Oh bury me under the gay green shaw 
 
 By the brook, nealh the heathery sod, 
 Where last her blessed eyes I saw, 
 
 Where her blessed feet last trod ! " 
 
 Saturday, 23d. 
 
 We came home at two. and the horses were waiting for me : 
 
 we mounted and rode clown to the Hoboken ferry, where we crossed > 
 The day was like an early day in spring- in England ; a day when the 
 almond trees would all have been in flower, the hawthorn hedges put 
 ting forth their tender green and brown shoots, and the primroses gem 
 ming the mossy roots of ihe trees by the water-courses. The spring is 
 backwarder here a good deal than wilh us : to be sure, it is sudden com 
 pared with ours, as my poetising friend hath it, 
 
 " Not with slow steps, in smiles, in tears advancing, 
 But with a bound, like Indian girls in dancing." 
 
 I do not like this: I like to linger over the sweet hourly and daily fulfil 
 ment of hope, which the slow progress of vegelalion in my own dear 
 country allows one full enjoyment of; to watch the lenf from the bark, 
 the blossom from the bud ; the delicate, pale-white, peeping heads of the 
 hawthorn, to the fragrant, snowy, delicious flush of flowering ; the downy 
 green clusters of small round buds on the apple trees, to the exquisite 
 rosy-tinted clouds of soft blossoms waving against an evening sky. The 
 melted snow bad made the roads all but impassable; however, the day 
 was delightfully mild and sunny, and therefore we did not get chilled by 
 the very temperate rate at which we were obliged to proceed. We 
 turned off to look at the Turtle Pavilion, and, pursuing tie water s edse^ 
 
JOURNAL. 261 
 
 got up upon a species of high dyke between some marshes tnat open 
 into the river. Our path, however, was presently intercepted by a stile, 
 and as the horses were not quite of the sort one could have risked a leap 
 
 W iti 1? got off and endeavoured to lead his charger round the edge 
 
 of the sleep bank, but the brute refused that road, and we were forced 
 to turn back; and, after floundering about over some of the roughest 
 worst ground imaginable, we e en went out of the Hoboken domain at 
 the gate where we entered, and pursued that beautiful road overlooking 
 the Hudson, under that fine range of cliffs which are the first idea, as it 
 were, of the Palisadoes. We took the lower road down into the glen 
 below Weehawk. The sun shone gloriously : the little fairy stream that 
 owns this narrow glade was singing and dancing along its beautiful do 
 main with a sweet gleesome voice, and a succession of little sparkling 
 breaks and eddies that looked like laughter. We left the muddy road, 
 and turned our horses into the stream ; but its bed was very stony and 
 uneven, and we were obliged to turn out of it again. We rode like very 
 impudent persons up to the house on the height. The house itself is loo 
 unsheltered for comfort either in summer or winter, but the view from 
 its site is beautiful, and we had it in perfection to-day. Standing at an 
 elevation of more than a huntLed feet from the river, we looked down iis 
 magnificent, broad, silvery avenue, to the Narrows that rocky gale that 
 opens towards my home. New York lay bright and distinct on the op 
 posite shore, glittering like a heap of toys in the sunny distance : the 
 water towards Sandy Hook was studded with sails; and far up on the 
 other side the river rolled away among shores that, even in this wintry 
 time of bare trees and barren earth, looked gay and lovely in the sun 
 shine. We turned down again ; but after crossing the bridge over the 
 pretty brook, we took an upper path to the right, and riding through 
 some leafless, warm, sunny woodlands, joined the road that leads to the 
 Weehawken height, and so returned to New York. On our way, dis 
 cussing the difference between religion as felt by men and women, 
 
 agreed with me, thathardly one man out of five thousand held any distinct 
 entire and definite religious belief. He said that religion was asentiment, 
 and that, as regarded all creeds, there was no midway with them ; that 
 faith or utter disbelief were the only alternatives; fur that displacing one 
 jot of any of them made the whole totter, which last is, in some measure, 
 rue, but I do not think it is true that religion is only a sentiment. There 
 
262 JOURNAL. 
 
 are many reasons why women are more religious than men. Our minds arc 
 not generally naturally analytical our education tends to render them still 
 less so : t is seldom in a woman s desire (because seldom in her capacity) 
 to investigate the abstract bearings of any metaphysical subject. Our 
 imaginations are exceedingly sensitive, our subservience to early impres 
 sions, and exterior forms, proportionate ; and our habits of thought, little 
 enlarged by experience, observation, or proper culture, render us utterly 
 incapable of almost any logical train of reasonings. With us, I think, 
 therefore, faith is the only secure hold ; for disbelief, acting upon mental 
 constructions so faulty and weak, would probably engender insanity, or 
 a thousand species of vague, wild, and mischievous enthusiasms. ( J ) I 
 believe, too, that women are more religious than men, because they 
 have warmer and deeper affections. There is nothing surely on earth 
 that can satisfy and utterly fulfil the capacity for loving which exists in 
 every woman s nature. Even when her situation in life is such as to 
 call forth and constantly keep in exercise the best affections of her heart, 
 
 ( ) I wonder how long it will be before men begin to consider the rational 
 education of the mothers of their children a matler of some little moment. How 
 much longer are we to lead existences burdensome to ourselves and useless to 
 others, under the influence of every species of ill training that can be imagined? 
 How much longer are the physical evils under which our nature labours to be 
 increased by effeminate, slothful, careless, unwholesome habits? How much 
 longer are our minds, naturally weakened by the action of a highly sensitive 
 nervous construction, to be abandoned, or rather devoted, to studies the least 
 likely to strengthen and ennoble them, and render them independent, in some 
 measure, of the infirmities of our bodies? How much longer are our imaginations 
 and feelings to be the only portions of our spiritual nature on which culture is 
 bestowed? Surely it were generous in those who are our earthly disposers to 
 do something to raise us from the state of half-improvement in which we are 
 suffered to linger. If our capacities are inferior to those of men, which I 
 believe, as much as I believe our bodies to be inferior to theirs in strength, 
 swiftness, and endurance, let us not be overwhelmed with all the additional 
 shackles that foolish and vain bringing up can add; let us at least be made as 
 strong in body and as wise in mind as we can, instead of being devoted to 
 spiritual, mental, and physical weakness, far beyond that which we inherit from 
 nature. 
 
JOURNAL. 263 
 
 AS a wife, ami a mother, it still seems to me as if more would be wanting 
 to fill the measure of yearning tenderness, which, like an eternal fountain, 
 gushes up in every woman s heart; therefore I think it is that we turn, 
 in the plenitude of our affections, to that belief which is a religion of 
 love, and where the hroadest channel is open to receive the devotedness, 
 the clinging, the confiding trustfulness, which are idolatry when spent 
 upon creatures like ourselves, but become a holy worship when offered 
 to Heaven. () Nor is it only from the abundance and overflowing of 
 our affections that we are devout ; t is not only from our capacity of 
 loving, but also from our capacity of suffering, that our piety springs. 
 Woman s physical existence, compared with that of man, is one of in 
 cessant endurance. This in itself begets a necessity for patience, a seek- 
 ingafter strength, a holding forth of the hands for support; thus, the fragile 
 frame, the loving heart, and the ignorant mind, are in us sources of re 
 ligious faith. Bui it often happens that those affections, so strong, so 
 deep, so making up the sum and substance of female existence, instead 
 of being happily employed, as I have supposed above, are converted into 
 springs of acule suffering. These wells of feeling hidden in the soul, 
 upon whose surface the slightest smile of affection falls like sunlight, but 
 whose very depths are stirred by the breath ofunkindness, are too often un- 
 visited by the kindly influence of kindred sympathies, and go wearing 
 their own channels deeper, in silence and in secrecy, and in infinite 
 bitterness, undermining health, happiness, the joy of life, and 
 making existence one succession of burden - bearing days, and toil 
 some, aching, heavy hours. It is in this species of blight, which falls 
 upon many women, that any religious faith becomes a refuge and 
 a consolation, more especially that merciful and compassionate faith 
 whose words are, " Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest. " To that rest betakes itself the wearied 
 spirit, the wounded heart ; and it becomes a blessing beyond all other 
 blessings; a source of patience, of fortitude, of hope, of strength, of en 
 durance ; a shelter in the scorching land, a spring of water in the wil 
 derness. ***** 
 
 ( ) Was it not Mme. de Sevigne who said, with such truth and bitter satire, 
 Mme de s est jetee dans la devotion, c est-a-dire, elle a change d amant" ? 
 
264 JOURNAL. 
 
 Saturday, April !5(/i. 
 
 At a quarter after four, drove down to the boat. was waiting to 
 
 see us off, and presently made his appearance to see us on. Owing 
 
 to the yesterday s boat not having sailed, it was crowded to-day, and 
 freighted most heavily, so as to draw an unusual quantity of water, and 
 proceed at a much slower rate than common. Al a few minutes after 
 five, the huge brazen bell on deck began to toll; the mingled crowd 
 jostled, and pushed, and rolled about; the loiterers on shore rushed on 
 
 board ; the bidders-farewell on board rushed on shore ; D and I 
 
 took a quiet sunny stand, away from all the con fusion, and watched from 
 our floating palace New York glide away like a glittering dream from 
 before us. A floating palace indeed it was, in size and in magnificence : 
 I never saw any thing to compare with the beauty, and comfort, and 
 largeness of all its accommodations. Our Scotch steam-boat, the United 
 Kingdom, is a cockboat to it, and even the splendid Hudson boat, the 
 North America, is far inferior to it in every respect, except, I believe, 
 swiftness, but then these Boston boats have sometimes very heavy sea 
 to go through. () Besides the ladies cabin, this boat is furnished with 
 half a dozen state rooms, taken from the upper deck, an inexpressi 
 ble luxury. Into one of these our night-bags were conveyed, and we 
 returned to the deck to watch the sun down. A strong and piercing wind 
 blew over the w r aters, and almost cut me in half r,s I stood watching the 
 shores, which I did not wish to lose by going in. However, I might have 
 done so, and lost but little; for after passing Hell-gate, where the rocks 
 
 ( ) The cleanliness of the table furniture, and the neatness of the attendants, 
 is one of the most essential comforts of these boats. The linen, and knives and 
 forks, etc. at our meals, were remarkably clean and bright. On more ihan one 
 occasion, too, being rather late for the public breakfast, we have been indulged 
 with a small separate table in the quiet recess at the end of the great eating and 
 sleeping cabin, a favour only to be appreciated by people unaccustomed to any 
 ordinaries, much less steam-boat dinner-tables with sometimes near two hundred 
 guests. On board all the other boats, the only alternative is to have what you 
 eat brought to you into the ladies cabin. To those who have once breathed 
 the atmosphere of a "ladies cabin," it will be difficult to imagine how such an 
 alternative should riot be productive of an amazing saving of the boat s provisions. 
 
JOURNAL. 265 
 
 iii the river and the banks have rather a picturesque appearance, there 
 was. neither form nor comeliness in the flat wearisome land to either 
 side; and the only objects which detained me on deck were the bright 
 blue waters themselves, all shining in the sunset, and those lovely little 
 boats, with one mast and two glittering sails, scudding past us like fairy 
 craft upon the burnished waves. At about eight, we were summoned 
 down to tea, which was a compound meal of tea and supper. The 
 company were so numerous that they were obliged to lay the table 
 twice. We waited till the crowd had devoured their feed, and had ours 
 
 in comparative peace and quiet. An excellent man, by name , an 
 
 officer in the American army, made himself known tome, considering, 
 as he afterwards told me, his commission to be a sufficient right of in 
 troduction to any body. He was a native of Boston, and was returning 
 to it, after an absence of fourteen years. * * 
 
 Sunday, \4th. 
 
 The morning was beautifully bright and clear. While dressing, heard 
 the breakfast-bell, and received sundry intimations to descend and eat ; 
 however, I declined leaving my cabin until I had done dressing, which f 
 achieved very comfortably at leisure, during which time the ship wea 
 thered Point Judith, where the Atlantic comes in to the shore between 
 the termination of Long Island and the southern extremity of Rhode 
 Island. The water is generally rough here, and I had been prophesied 
 iin agreeable little lit of sea-sickness; but no such mailer, we passed 
 it very smoothly, and presently slopped at Newport, on Rhode Island, 
 to leave and lake up passengers. The wind was keen and bracing ; 
 the morning beautifully bright and sunny; the blue waters, all curled 
 and crisped under the arrow-like wind, broke into a thousand sap 
 phire ridges tipped with silver foam, that drove away in sparkling 
 showers before the bitter breath of the north. We entered Providence 
 river in a few moments, and steamed along between Rhode Island and 
 the main land, until we reached Providence, a town on Ihe shore of 
 Rhode Island, where we were to leave the boat, and pursue our route 
 
 by coacii to Boston. I walked on deck with Captain for an hoar 
 
 after breakfast, breasting the wind, which almost drove us back each 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 lime we turned up the deck towards the prow. After my walk, went 
 in, righted my hair, which the wind had dressed a la frantic, and 
 came and sat in the sun with Brewster s hook. which I like mainly, 
 till we reached Providence. The boat was so heavily laden that 
 she drew an enormous quantity of water, and was fairly aground once, 
 as we were nearing the pier. When the crowd of passengers had ebb 
 ed away, and we had seen them pack themselves into their stages 
 and drive off, AVC adjourned to our exclusive extra, which, to our great 
 sorrow, could not take all our luggage after all. The distance from 
 Providence to Boston is forty miles ; but we were six hours and a half 
 doing it over an excellent road. The weather was beautiful, but the 
 country still sad and wintry-looking. The spring is backwarder here 
 than in New York by full three weeks : the trees were all bare and leaf 
 less, except the withered foliage of the black oaks; and the face of the 
 country, with its monotonous rises, and brooks flowing through flat 
 fields, reminded me of parts of Cumberland. Every now 7 and then, 
 however, we came to a little lakelet, or, as they call them here, pond, 
 of the holiest deepest dark-blue w r ater, sparkling like a magic sapphire, 
 against smooth, bright, golden, sandy shores, and screened by vivid 
 thickets of cedar bushes. They were like little bits of fairy-land, and 
 relieved the wearisomeness of the road. As we approached Boston, the 
 country assumed a more cultivated aspect, the houses in the road-side 
 villages were remarkably neat, and pretty, and cottage-like, the land 
 was well farmed; and the careful cultivation, and stonewalls, which 
 perform the part of hedges here, together with the bleak look of the 
 distances on each side, made me think of Scotland. We entered Boston 
 through a long road with houses on each side, making one fancy one s 
 self in the town long before one reaches it. We did not arrive until 
 half-past six. Went to my own room and dressed for dinner. When 
 
 I came to the drawing-room, found the s : dear was half crazy 
 
 at seeing ns again. After dinner, came to my room with her, and 
 righted all my clolhes, and established myself; after tea, returned to the 
 same work, and, at about half-past ten, came to bed. Here we are in 
 a new place ! How desolate and cheerless this constant changing of 
 homes is ! the Scripture saith, " There is no rest to the wicked;" and 
 truly I never felt so convinced of my own wickedness as I have done 
 since I have been in this country. 
 
JOURNAL. 267 
 
 Monday, 
 
 Went over to the theatre to rehearse Fazio. Mr. -- , however, met 
 us at the door, and assured me there was no necessity for my doing 
 so till to-morrow. came early to see me, and stayed all the morn 
 ing. Mr. -- called this morning, I was quite glad] to see him, 
 and Mrs. - , whom I thought beautiful. Tried to finish letter to 
 -- , but was interrupted about a dozen times. At about half-past 
 four, the horses came to the door. The afternoon was lovely, and the 
 roads remarkably good : I had a fine handsome spiiited horse, who 
 pulled my hands to pieces for want of being properly curbed. We rode 
 out to Cambridge, the University of Massachusetts, about three miles 
 distant from Boston. The village round it, with its white cottages, 
 and meeting roads, and the green lawns and trees round the college, 
 reminded me of England. We rode on to a place called Mount Auburn, 
 a burial-ground which the Bostonians take great pride in, and which is 
 one of the lions of the place. The entrance is a fine solid granite gate 
 way, in a species of Egyptian style, with this inscription engraved over 
 it : " Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit 
 shall return unto God, who gave it." () The whole place is at present 
 in an unfinished state, but its capabilities are very great, and, as far as it 
 has progressed, they have been taken every advantage of. The enclo 
 sure is of considerable extent, about one hundred acres, and con 
 tains several high hills and deep ravines, in the bottom of which are 
 dark, still, melancholy-looking meres. The whole is cut, with much 
 skill and good taste, by roads for carriages, and small narrow footpaths. 
 The various avenues are distinguished by the names of trees, as, Linden 
 
 ( ) My astonishment was unfeigned, when, upon an after inspection, I found 
 this very lofty gateway was constructed of painted wood. What ! a cheat, a 
 sham thing at the threshold of the grave! surely, thereabouts pretences should 
 have an end. Sham magnificence, too, is sad; an iron railing, or a wooden 
 paling, would, to my mind, have been a thousand times better than this mock 
 granite. Let us hope that this is merely a temporary entrance, there is real 
 granite enough to be had at Qnincy; and if the living can t afford it, why the 
 dead will never miss it, and any thing would be better than an imitation 
 gateway. 
 
268 JOURNAL. 
 
 walk, Pine walk, Beech walk; and already two or three white monu 
 ments are seen glimmering palely through the woods, reminding one of 
 the solemn use to which this ground is consecrated, which, for its 
 beauty, might seem a pleasure-garden instead of a place of graves. 
 
 Mr. delighted me very much : he told me he was looking for a 
 
 plot of earth in this cemetery which he intended to dedicate to poor 
 English people, who might come out here, and die without the means 
 of heing decently laid to rest. We looked, with this view, at a patch of 
 ground on the slope of a high hill, well shadowed over with trees, and 
 descending to a great depth to a dark pond, shining in the hollow like 
 an emerald. T was s id and touching to gaze at that earth, with the 
 thought that s midst strangers, and in a strange land, the pity of a 
 fellow-countryman should here allot to his brethren a grave in the quiet 
 and solemn beauty of this hallowed ground. Our time was limited ; so, 
 after lingering for a short space along the narrow pathways that wind 
 among dwellings of the dead, we rode home. We reached Boston at a 
 quarter to seven. My father and D were already gone to the the 
 atre. I dressed, and went over myself immediately. The play was 
 begun : the house was nol very full. The managers have committed 
 the greatest piece of mismanagement imaginable, they advertise my 
 father alone in Hamlet to-night, and instead of making me play alone to 
 morrow night, and so securing our attraction singly before we act to 
 gether, we are both to act to-morrow in Fazio, which circumstance, of 
 course, kept the house thin to-night. My father s Hamlet is very beau 
 tiful. T is curious, that when I see him act I have none of the absolute 
 feeling of contempt for the profession that I have while acting myself. 
 What he does appears, indeed, like the work of an artist; and though I 
 always lament that he loves it as he does, and has devoted so much care 
 and labour to it as he has, yet I certainly respect acting more while I am 
 seeing him act than at any other time. ( ) Yet surely, after ail, acting 
 
 ( ) The spirit of man of its own dignity ennobles whatever it devotes ilself 
 to. The most trivial actions may become almost heroical from the motive which 
 prompts them, and the most absurd ceremonies of superstition, sincerely practised, 
 may excite pity, but neither contempt nor ridicule. If such a thing as an 
 enthusiastic shoemaker were to be met with, there is no doubt but his feeling of 
 his craft would elevate it into something approximating an art, and his work 
 
JOURNAL. 269 
 
 is nonsense, and as I sit here opposite the churchyard, it seems to me 
 strange to think, that when I come down into that darkness, I shall have 
 eaten bread, during my life, earned by such means. The Ophelia was 
 perfectly beautiful : I think I scarcely ever saw a more faultless piece of 
 mortality in pofnt of outward loveliness. The eyes and brow of an 
 angel, serene and calm, yet bright and piercing; a mouth chiselled like 
 a Grecian piece of sculpture, with an expression of infinite refinement; 
 fair round arms and hands, a beautifully-moulded foot, and a figure 
 that seemed to me perfectly proportioned. It did not perhaps convey to 
 me the idea of such absolute loveliness as s figure did ; but alto 
 gether I think I never saw a fairer woman it was delightful to look 
 at her. ( ) The audience are, upon the whole, cold; very still and 
 attentive, however, and when they do warm, it is certainly very effec 
 tually, for they shout and hurrah like mad. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Wednesday, 27 M. 
 
 Somebody very civilly has sent me that beautiful book, Rogers s Italy : 
 it set me wild again with my old frenzy for the south of Europe. 
 
 would bear witness to his veneration for it. At the time when the stage was in 
 its highest perfection, its members had a/la, great love and admiration for their 
 profession ; many of them were men of education and mental accomplishment, 
 and brought to hear upon their labour all the intelU clual stores which they 
 possessed. They respected their own work, and it was respectable; they thought 
 acting capable of elevation, of refinement, of utility, and their faith in it invested 
 it with dignity. Of this class were all my father s family. One reason why the 
 stage and every thing belonging to it has fallen to so low an ebb now, is because 
 actors have ceased to care for their profession themselves, they are no longer 
 artists, acting is no longer an art. 
 
 ( ) Besides the advantage of possessing the very prettiest collection of actresses 
 I ever saw, the theatre at Boston has decidedly the best company I have played 
 with any where out of London. Some of the old leaven alluded to in the last 
 note exists amongst the ladies and gentlemen of the Tremont theatre : they do 
 not seem to despise their work, and it is, generally speaking, well done therefore. 
 Our pieces were all remarkably well got up there; and the green-room is both 
 respectable and agreeable. 
 
270 JOURNAL. 
 
 Wrote to ; after dinner, practised for an hour ; at half-past five, off 
 
 to the theatre. The house was crammed : the play, the Si ranger. It 
 is quite comical to see the people in the morning at the hox-office : our 
 window is opposite to it, and t is a matter of the greatest amusement to 
 me to watch them. They collect in crowds for upwards of an hour be 
 fore the doors open, and when the bolts are withdrawn, there is a yell 
 ing and shouting as though the town were on fire. In they rush, 
 thumping and pummelling one another, and not one comes out without 
 rubbing his head, or his back, or showing a piteous rent in his clothes. 
 I was surprised to see men of a very low order pressing foremost 
 to obtain boxes, but I find that they sell them again at an enormous 
 increase to others who have not been able to obtain any; and, the 
 belter to carry on their traffic, these worthies smear their clothes with 
 molasses, and sugar, etc., in order to prevent any person of more 
 decent appearance, or whose clothes are worth a cent, from coming 
 near the box-office : this is ingenious, and deserves a reward. Our 
 other window looks out upon a large churchyard, in the midst of which 
 stands a cenotaph, erected by Franklin in honour of his father. Be 
 tween the view of the play-house, and the view of the burial-ground, my 
 contemplations are curiously tinged. This house (the Tremont) is ad 
 mirably quiet and comfot table. 
 
 Thursday, \Sth. 
 
 After breakfast, went to rehearsal, the School for Scandal, 
 however, half the people were not there, so the rehearsal was nought. 
 Came home, and at half-past eleven rode out; the day was beautifully 
 bright : we rode to a beautiful little mere, called Jamaica Pond, through 
 some country very like Scotland. We turned from the road into a gen 
 tleman s estate, and rode up a green rise into an enclosed field, which 
 commanded an extensive view of the country below. But the spring 
 tarries still, and though her smile is in the sky, the trees are leafless, and 
 blossomless, and wintry-looking still. We came in by a pretty village 
 called Roxbtiry, about two miles and a half distant from Boston : here 
 we stopped to get a nosegay for my Lady Teazle, at a very pretty green 
 house, kept by a mechanic, who has devoted his leisure hours to the 
 pleasurable and profitable pursuits of gardening. We returned to town 
 at about half-past two. Iran into the drawing-room, and found ^sit 
 ting with my father, 
 
JOURNAL. 271 
 
 Saturday, 20f/i. 
 
 Walked up to the State House. The day was any thing but agreeable; 
 a tremendous high wind ( easterly of course, t is the only wind they 
 have in Boston), and a burning sun tempered only by clouds of dust, in 
 which, every two minutes, the whole world, at least, as much as we 
 could see of it, was shrouded. On entering the hall of the State 
 House, we confronted Chantry s statue of Washington, which stands in 
 a recess immediately opposite the entrance. I saw that, how many years 
 ago, in his study at Pimlico ! We proceeded to mount into the cupola, 
 whence a very extensive view is obtained of the city and its surroundings, 
 and a cruel height it was! I began it at full speed, like a wise 
 woman, but before I got to the top was so out of breath, that I could 
 hardly breathe at all : defend me from such altitudes! and, after all, 
 the day was hazy and not favourable for our purpose ; the wind came in 
 through the windows of Ihe lantern like a tornado; and, as my father 
 observed, after the exertion of ascending, t was the very best place in 
 the world for catching one s death of cold. We came down as quickly 
 as we could. At about twelve, we rode to Mount Auburn. The few 
 days of sunshine since we were last there have clothed the whole earth 
 with delicate purple and white blossoms, a little resembling the wood 
 anemone, but growing close to the soil, and making one think of violets 
 with their pale purple colour : they have no fragrance whatever. We 
 afterwards rode on to a beautiful little lake called Fresh Pond, alon:? 
 whose margin we followed a pretty woody path : a high bank covered 
 with black-looking pines rose immediately on our right, and on our left 
 the clear waters of the rippling lake came dancing to and fro along the 
 pebbly shore, which shone bright and golden under their crystal folds. 
 We stood with our hats off to receive the soft wind upon our brows, and 
 to listen to the chiming of the wa er upon the beach, the most delicious 
 sound in all nature s orchestra. We then turned back and rode home. 
 By the by, on our way out to Mount Auburn we took the Charleston 
 road, and rode over Bunker Hill. They have begun a monument upon 
 the spot where General Warren was killed, to commemorate the event. 
 I felt strangely as I rode over that ground. Mr. was the only \me- 
 
272 JOURNAL. 
 
 rican of our party, but, though in the minority, he had rather the best of 
 it. And this is where so much English blood was shed, thought I ; for, 
 after all, t was all English blood, do as they can, they can never get 
 rid of their stock ; and deeply as oppression and resistance have dug the 
 grave in which all kindred feeling seems for a time to have been buried, 
 t is only, I believe and trust, for a time, buried in blood and fierce 
 warfare, to spring up again in peace and mutual respect. England and 
 America ought not to be enemies, t is unnatural while the same lan 
 guage is spoken in both lands. Until Americans have found a tongue 
 for themselves, they must still be the children of old England, for they 
 speak the words her children speak by the fireside of her homes. Oh. 
 Engiand ! noble, noble land ! They may be proud of many things, these 
 inheritors of a new world, but of nothing more than that they are de 
 scended from Englishmen ; that their fathers once trod the soil whereon 
 has grown more goodness, more greatness, more beauty, and more truth, 
 than on any other earth under God s sun. 
 
 At half-past four, we went to dine with the s. Their house is 
 
 very pretty and comfortable. When first we went in, we were shown 
 into a couple of drawing-rooms, in which there were beautiful marble 
 copies of one or two of the famous statues. One of Canova s dancing 
 girls, the glorious Diana, a reclining figure of Cleopatra, an exquisite 
 tiling, the crouching Venus, and the lovely antique Cupid and Psyche. 
 
 T is si range that feelings should pass from our hearts and minds as 
 clouds pass from the face of heaven, as though they had never been 
 there; yet not so, after all; they do not pass so tracklessly, they 
 do leave faint shadows behind ; they leave a darker colour upon the face 
 of all existence : sometimes they leave a sad conviction of wasted capa 
 bilities, and time, precious time, expended in vain. Yet not in vain : 
 even though our feelings change, pass, perhaps, to our own conscious 
 nesscease altogether, t is not in vain life is going on experience 
 and solemn wisdom may come with the coming time; and existence 
 is, after all, but a series of experiments upon our spiritual nature. Our 
 trials vary with our years; and though we deem (too often rightly) that 
 
JOURNAL. 273 
 
 suffering- and disappointment are but barren thorns, whereon grows 
 neither fruit nor flower, t is our sin that they are so, for they are de 
 signed to bear an excellent harvest? "Sweet are the uses of adversity;" so 
 he has said who knew all things, and so indeed to the wise they are. 
 
 Tuesday, &ttk. 
 
 We rode down to the " Chelsea Ferry," and crossed over the Charles 
 river, where the shore opposite Boston bears the name of that refuge for 
 damaged marine stores. The breath of the sea was delicious, as we 
 crossed the water in one of the steam-boats constantly plying to and fro j 
 and on the olherside, as we rode towards the beach, it came greeting us 
 delightfully from the wide waters. When we started from Boston, the 
 weather was intensely hot, and the day promised to be like the day 
 before yesterday, a small specimen of the dog-days. We had about a 
 five miles ride through some country that reminded me of Scotland : 
 now and then the dreary landscape was relieved by the golden branches 
 of a willow tree, and the delicate pale peach blossoms, and tiny while 
 buds in the apple orchards, peeping over some stone dyke, like a glance 
 over the wall from the merry laughing spring. So we reached Chelsea 
 beach, a curving, flat, sandy shore, forming one side of a small bay which 
 runs up between this land and a rocky peninsula that stretches far out into 
 the ocean, called Nahanl. At the extremity of the basin lay glimmering 
 a white sunny town, by name Lynn; tis quite absurd the starts and 
 stares which the familiar names cause one for ever to make here. This 
 small bay is beautifully smooth and peaceful ; the shore is a shelving 
 reach of hard fine sand, nearly two miles long, and the wild waves 
 are warded off in their violence from it by the rocky barrier of Nahanl. 
 How happy I was to see the beautiful sea once more, to be once 
 more galloping over the golden sands, to be once more wondering 
 at and worshipping the grandeur and loveliness of this greatest of God s 
 marvellous works. Howldo love the sea ! my very soul seems to gather 
 energy, and life, and light, from its power, its vastness, its bold bright 
 beauty, its fresh invigorating airs, its glorious, triumphant, rushing 
 sound. The thin, thin rippling waves came like silver leaves spreading 
 themselves over the glittering sand, with just a little, sparkling, pearly- 
 edge, like the cream of a bright glass of champagne. Close along the 
 shore the water was of that pale transparent green colour, that blends 
 
274 JOURNAL. 
 
 so delicately with the horizon, sometimes at sunset; but out beyond, 
 towards the great deep, it wore that serene and holiest blue that surrounds 
 one in mid-ocean, when the earth is 1 nearly as far below as the heaven 
 seems high above us. For a short time my spirits seemed like uncaged 
 birds ; I rejoiced with all my might, I could have shouted aloud for 
 delight ; I galloped far along the sand, as close into the water s restless 
 edge as my horse would bear to go. But the excitement died away, and 
 then came vividly back the time when last I stood upon the sea beach at 
 Cramond, and lost myself in listening to that delicious sound of the 
 chiming waters I was many years younger then. 
 
 The end of my ride was sadder than the beginning, for at first my 
 senses alone took cognizance of what surrounded me, and afterwards my 
 soul looked on it, and it grew dark. We rode two miles along the 
 
 beach, and stopped at a little wooden hut, where, Mr. told me, 
 
 sportsmen, who come to shoot plover along the flats by the shore, resort 
 to dress their dinners and refresh themselves. Here we dismounted : 
 lay in the sun on the roof with the fresh, sweet, blessed breath of heaven 
 fanning us. My horse thought proper to break his bridle and walk 
 himself off through the fields : they followed him with corn, and various 
 
 inducements; and 1, meantime, ran down to the water, collecting 
 
 interesting relics, muscle shells, quartz, pebbles, and sea-weed ; finally, 
 we remounted and returned home. The weather had changed com 
 pletely, and become quite bleak and cold : the variations of the climate in 
 this place are terrible. As we rode down a pleasant lane towards the 
 Salem road, we met a large crowd of country-people busily employed in 
 raising the framework of a house. In this part of the country, the 
 poorer class of people build their houses, or rather, the wooden frames 
 of their houses, entirely before they set them up. When the skeleton is 
 entirely finished, they call together all their neighbours to assist in the 
 raising, which is an event of much importance, and generally ends in a 
 merry-making. The filling up the outline of the habitation, which they 
 do with boards here, is an after work : the frame seems to be the ma 
 terial part of the building, and slight enough too, I thought, for protection 
 against these bitter east winds. We reached home at about half-past 
 two. The play was Much Ado about Nothing : the house was spoilt by 
 
JOURNAL. 2-5 
 
 liie fair which the ladies have been getting up for the hlind here, and 
 which was lighted and open for inspection previous to lo-morrow, when 
 the sale is to lake place. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 */.* .* and I 
 
 ADI reading, too, my book of memory : 
 
 With eyelids closed, over the crested foam, 
 
 And the blue marbled sea, I seek my home. 
 
 All present things forgotten, on the shore 
 
 Of the romantic Forth I stand once more; 
 
 Once more I hear the waves harmonious strife; 
 
 Once more, upon the mountain coast of Fife, 
 
 I see the checker d lights and shadows fall. 
 
 Upon the sand crumbles the ruiu d wall 
 
 That guards no more the desolate demesne, 
 
 And the deserted mansion. High between 
 
 The summer clouds the Ocliil hills arise; 
 
 And far, far, like a shadow in the skies, 
 
 Ben Lomond towers aloft in sovereign height. 
 
 O, Cramond beach ! are thy sands still as bright 
 
 Thy waters still as sunny, thy wild shore 
 
 As lonely and as lovely as of yore ? 
 
 Haunts of my happy time! as wandering back 
 
 Along my life, on memory s faithful track, 
 
 How fair ye seem, how fair, how dear ye are! 
 
 Ye need not to be gazed at from afar ; 
 
 Deceptive distance lends no brighter hue; 
 
 Your beauty and your peacefulness were true. 
 
 Not yours the charms from which we wearied stray. 
 
 And own them only when they re far away. 
 
 O, be ye blest for all the happiness 
 
 Which I have known in your wild loneliness. 
 
 Old sea, whose voice yet chimes upon my ear, 
 
 Old paths, whose every winding step was dear, 
 
2:6 JOURNAL. 
 
 Dark rocky promontories, echoing caves, 
 Worn hollow by the white feet of the waves, 
 Blue lake-like waters, legend-haunted isle, 
 Over ye all, bright be the summer s smile; 
 And gently fall the winter on your breast, 
 Haunts of my youth, my memory s place of rest. 
 
 Wednesday, May \st. 
 
 Mr. came in the morning, and I settled to call down at eleven 
 
 for Mrs. to go to the fair. W T e drove to Faneuil Hall, a building 
 
 opposite the market, which was appropriated to the uses of the fair; but 
 the crowd was so dense round the steps, that we found it impossible to 
 approach them, and wisely gave up the attempt, determining to lake our 
 drive, and then come back and try our later fortune. We drove down 
 to the Chelsea beach. The day was bleak and cold, though bright, with 
 a cutting east wind. After taking a good race along the bright cream 
 ing edge, we returned to the carriage, and drove into town again to the 
 fair, which we managed at last to enter. The whole thing was crowd, 
 crush, and confusion, to my bewildered eyes. We got upon a platform 
 
 behind the stalls, and squeezed our way to Mrs. s shop, where my 
 
 father had desired me to buy him a card-case, which I did. I found 
 
 installed in her stall. joined us, and Mr. -, who drew me 
 
 away to his wife s table, where I bought one or Uvo things, and, having 
 emptied my purse, came away. After dinner, Mr. came in : he 
 showed us some things he had bought at the fair. I thought the prices 
 enormous, but the money is well spent in itself, or rather, on its ultimate 
 object, and the immediate return is of no import. 
 
 Thursday, 2rf. 
 
 After breakfast, went over to rehearsal j at half-past eleven, went out 
 to ride : the day was heavenly, bright, and mild, with a full, soft, sweet 
 spring breeze blowing life and health over one. The golden willow 
 trees were all in flower, and the air, as we rode by them, was rich with 
 their fragrance. The sky was as glorious as the sky of Paradise : the 
 whole world was full of loveliness; and my spirils were in most harmonious 
 tune with all its beauty. W r e rode along the chiming beach, talking 
 gravely of many matters, temporal and spiritual ; and when we reached 
 
JOURNAL. 
 
 the pines, I dismounted, entreated for a scrap of paper, and, in the miser 
 able little parlour of this miserable little mansion, sat down and scribbled 
 some miserable doggrel to ease my heart. How beautiful the scene 
 around me was ! the bright boundless sea, smooth as a sapphire, 
 except at the restless rippling edge ; the serene holy sky looking down 
 so earnestly and gently on the flowering earth; the reviving breeze, 
 dipping like a bird its fresh wings into the water, how beautiful all 
 things did seem to me, how full of witnesses of the great power and 
 goodness that created them. Why is it that clouds ever come between 
 us and God when there are seasons like this, when we seem to sit at his 
 very feet, when his glory and his mercy seem the atmosphere we are 
 breathing, and our whole existence is lifted, for a time, into the reality 
 of all we hope and pray for ? Yet these are but passing emotions : they 
 are not, indeed, the very spirit of God, they are but reflections of his 
 image, caught from the glorious mirror of nature. The sky becomes 
 cloudy, the sea stormy ; the blossoming and the bearing seasons pass 
 away, and winter comes apace, with withered aspect, and bitter biting 
 breath; the face of the universe becomes dark, and the trust, and faith, 
 and joy of our souls, fade into doubt, disbelief, and sorrow. Infirmity 
 and imperfection pluck us back from our heavenward flight, and the 
 weight of our mortality drags us down fast, fast again towards the earth. 
 These fair outward creatures, and the blessed emotions they excite, 
 will pass away, must do p.-jss away, and where is the abiding reve- 
 !;ition of God to which we shall turn? It lives for ever, in the still 
 burning light of a strong and steadfast soul ; in the resolute will and 
 high unshaken purpose of good; in the quiet, calm, collected might of 
 
 reason; in the undying warmth and brightness of a pure and holy heart. 
 
 ***** 
 
 My ride did me ten thousand goods. As we were riding through Mrs. 
 
 s farm, a little boy came running to meet me with his hand full of 
 
 beautiful flowers, which he stood upon tiptoe to thrust into my hand, 
 and, without waiting to be thanked, rushed back into the house. I 
 was delighted : the flowers were exquisite, and the manner of the gift 
 very enchanting. Altogether, I do not know when I have been so 
 completely filled with pleasurable emo ions as during this ride. 
 
278 JOURNAL. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 To the smooth beach, the silver sea 
 
 Comes rippling in a thousand smiles, 
 And back again runs murmuringly, 
 
 To break around yon distant isles. 
 The sunshine, through a floating veil 
 
 Of golden clouds, looks o er the wave, 
 And gilds, far off, the outline pale, 
 
 Of many a rocky cape and cave, 
 The breath of spring comes balmily 
 
 O\ er the nevvly-blossom d earth ; 
 The smile of spring, on sea, and sky, 
 
 Is shedding light, and love, and mirth. 
 I would that thou wert by rny side, 
 
 As underneath the rosy bloom 
 Of flowering orchard trees I ride, 
 
 And drink their fragrant fresh perfume ; 
 I would that thou wert by rny side, 
 
 To feel this soft air on thy brow, 
 And listen to the chiming tide 
 
 Along that smooth shore breaking now ; 
 I would that thou wert here to bless, 
 
 As I do now, the love and care, 
 That, with such w r ealth of loveliness, 
 
 Have made life s journeying-laud so fair. 
 
 I have taken several enormous rides round Boston, and am more and 
 more delighted with its environs, which are now in full flush of blossom 
 ing, as sweet, and fresh, and lovely as any thing can be. On Saturday, 
 rode to the Blue Hills, a distance of upwards of twelve miles. The 
 roads round this place are almost as good as roads in England, and the 
 country altogether reminds me of that dear little land. ( ) These Blue 
 
 ( ) To the English traveller, around whose heart the love of country and tlio 
 
, JOURNAL. 279 
 
 Hills were, a few years ago, a wilderness of forest Ihe favourite resort 
 of rattlesnakes ; but thetrees have been partly cleared, and though t is 
 s lill a wild desolate region, clothed with firs, and uncheered by a human 
 habitation, its more savage tenants have disappeared with the thick 
 
 influences of early association may yet cling, New England appears to me, of all 
 the portions of the United States which I have visited, most likely to afford gra 
 tification ; and the Yankees, properly so called, the Americans with whom lie 
 will find, and towards whom he will feel, most sympathy. They do us the honour 
 to call themselves purely English in their origin; they alone, of the whole popula 
 tion of the United States, undoubtedly were so ; and in the abundant witness which 
 their whole character, country, and institutions bear to that fact, I feel an ad 
 ditional reason to be proud of England, of Old England, for these are her 
 children, this race of men, as a race incomparably superior to the other inhabit 
 ants of this country. In conversing with New Englandmen, in spite of any pass 
 ing temporary bitterness, any political difference, or painful reference to past 
 times of enmity, I have always been struck with the admiring and, in some measure, 
 tender feeling with which England, as the mother-country, was named. Nor is 
 it possible to travel through the New England states, and not perceive, indeed, a 
 spirit (however modified by different circumstances and institutions) yet most 
 truly English in its origin. The exterior of the houses, their extreme neatness 
 and cleanliness, the careful cultivation of the land, the tasteful and ornamen 
 tal arrangement of the ground immediately surrounding the dwellings, that most 
 English of all manifestations, above all, the church spires pointing towards 
 heaven, from the bosom of every village, recalled most forcibly to my mind my 
 own England, and presented images of order, of industry, of taste, and religious 
 feeling, nowhere so exhibited in any other part of the Union. I visited Boston 
 several limes, and mixed in society there, the tone of which appeared to me far 
 higher than that of any I found elsewhere. A general degree of cultivation exists 
 among its members, which renders their intercourse desirable and delightful. 
 Nor is this superior degree of education confined to Boston : the zeal and the 
 judgment with which it is being propagated throughout that part of the country 
 is a noble national characteristic. A small circumstance is a good illustration of 
 the advance which knowledge has made in these states. Travelling by land from 
 New Haven to Boston, at one of the very smallest places where we stopped to 
 change horses, I got out of the carriage to reconnoitre our surroundings. The 
 town ( if town it could be called) did not appear to contain much more than fifty 
 
280 JOURNAL. , 
 
 coverts in which they nestled, and we rode to the summit of the highest 
 hill without seeing any thing in the shape of Eve s enemy. At the top, 
 by the by, we did find some species of building in decay and ruin. 
 Whoever perched himself tip there had no mind to be overlooked, and 
 must have been fond of fresh air. The view from the mountain is mag 
 nificent, yet I do not believe the elevation to be very extraordinary ; 
 although, as I looked down, it seemed to me as though the world was 
 stretched at my feet; and I thought of the temptation of our Saviour. 
 The various villages, with their blossoming orchards, looked like patches 
 of a snow-scene; the river wound, like a silver snake, all round the 
 fields; the little lakes lay diminished to drops of bright blue light; and 
 the lesser mountains rose below us like the waves of a dark sea. The 
 whole was strange and awful to me* the savage loneliness of the 
 place, its apparent remoteness from the earth, and its walkers, filled 
 me with a solemn sensation. Had 1 been there alone, I do not know a 
 place where I should sooner have expected to meet some of the wander 
 ing spirits of mid-air, shapes, and sights, and beings of another order 
 from those of the world, that !ay like a map below me. The moun 
 tain itself is formed of granite, of which large slabs appeared through 
 the turf and brushwood. I looked in vain for what I found in such 
 abundance on the Portland hill, the sweet wild thyme. I thought I should 
 find some of it among the stony rifts, where it loves so cling, but I was 
 disappointed. Indeed, I met with a much more severe disappointment 
 than that. The turf was thickly strewn with clumps of violets, the 
 very same in form and colour as our own sweet wood violet. I stooped 
 in an ecstasy to gather them, but found they were totally senseless- 
 houses: amongst the most prominent of these, however, was a bookseller s shop. 
 The first volumes 1 took up on the counter were Spurzheim s volume on educa 
 tion, and Dr. Abercrombie s works on the intellectual and moral faculties. I saw 
 more pictures, more sculptures, and more books in private houses in Boston than 
 I have seen any where else. I could name more men of marked talent that I 
 met with there than any where else. Its charitable and literary institutions an: 
 upon a liberal scale, and enlightened principles. Among the New Englanders 1 
 have seen more honour and reverence of parents, and more witnesses of a high 
 religious faith, than among any other Americans with whom I have lived and con 
 versed. 
 
JOURNAL. 281 
 
 mere pretences of violets. A violet without fragance! a wild one, too! 
 the thing s totally unnatural. I flung the little purple cheat away in 
 a rage. I have since found cowslips with the same entire absence of 
 fragrance. The heat and cold of this climate chill or wither every thing; 
 and almost all the flowers which are most common and sweet, growing 
 in the moist soil of England, seem reared with difficulty here, and lose 
 their great fragrance, their soul, as it were, under the extreme influences 
 of this sky. ( ) There were many wild things growing on this moun 
 tain, that for beauty, and delicacy of form and colour, would have 
 found honourable place in our conservatories; but they had not the 
 slightest perfume, and I took no delight in them. A scentless flower is 
 a monster ; and though I acknowledge with due admiration the paie 
 beauty of that queen of flowers, the camelia, I never see it in its cold 
 pearl-like pride of bloom, that it does not strike me like a fine lady 
 an artificial creature, fair indeed to behold, but without the very pro 
 perty of a flower sweetness. Oh, the lilies of the valley, the prim 
 roses, the violets, the sweet, sweet hawthorn, the fresh fragrant 
 blush rose, the purple lilac bloom, the silver serynga, the faint 
 breathing hyacinths, the golden cowslips, of a morning, at the close of 
 May in England ! the fulness of sweetness that loads the temperate air. 
 as it breathes over ihe fresh lawns of that flower garden! 
 
 I took another long ride to a quarry ten miles distant from Boston, 
 whence the granite, which is much used in Boston for building, is 
 
 ( ) There are, I believe, no primroses, no wild thyme, and no heather, that 
 grow naturally in this country. I do not remember to have seen either wild 
 honeysuckle or clematis, both of which are so abundant with us. The laurestinu% 
 rosemary, southernwood, and monthly roses, all of which are so common in Eng 
 land, growing out of doors all the year round, are kept in hot-houses during the 
 winter, even as far south as Philadelphia. The common garden flowers roses, 
 pinks are far less abundant and less fragrant than with us. Sweet peas, and 
 mignonette, are comparatively scarce; serynga, and laburnum, I have never seen 
 at all : but so little care is bestowed upon ornamental gardening, that I do not 
 know whether this dearth of flowers is the fault of the climate, or the consequence 
 of the utter neglect in which flower-gardens arc held here. 
 
282 JOURNAL. 
 
 drawn. I started at six in the morning, and rode about twenty miles 
 before breakfast, which I think was a piece of virtue bordering upon 
 heroism : to be sure, I had my reward, for any thing so sweet as the 
 whole world, at about half-past six, I never beheld. The dew was yet 
 i resh upon tree and flower, the roads were shady and cool, the dust 
 ha;i not yet been disturbed ; a mild, soft, full breeze blew over the 
 flowery earth, and Ihe rosy apple blossoms stirred on the rocking boughs 
 against the serene and smiling sky. They have in this country neither 
 nightingales, thrushes, linnets, nor blackbirds, at least, none with the 
 same notes as ours; but every now and then, from the snowy cherry 
 trees, there came a wild snatch of trilling melody, like the clear ringing 
 song of a canary bird. My companion did not know the minstrel by 
 his note; but I never heard a more brilliant and joyful strain, or one 
 more fitted to the bright hour of opening day. always excepting the 
 lark s, that triumphant embodied spirit of song. () The blackbird s 
 song is tome the sweetest in the world, sad and soft, and rich as the 
 sunsets through which it is heard. The quarry which we visited is an 
 extensive vein of fine dark-coloured granite. We dismounted, and 
 walked among the workmen to see them at their various processes. 
 This quarry, and one at a short distance, merely supply the blocks of 
 granite, which, being detached from the main stone, are piled upon 
 cars, and sent down an inclined plane to the rail-road, by means of a 
 powerful chain, which acts at once as a support and check, suffering the 
 load to proceed slowly down the declivity, and at the same time sending 
 up from the bottom, upon another track, the empty car from which the 
 granite has been unloaded below, as the buckets of a well are drawn 
 up and down. A very serious accident occurred here, by the by, to a 
 
 party of gentlemen, among whom Mr. was one. They had placed 
 
 themselves in the empty car at the bottom of the inclined plane, and 
 were being slowly drawn up, as the car loaded with granite descended 
 oil the other track. Just as they were approaching the summit, the chain 
 by which the car was drawn up gave way, and it rolled backwards down 
 the plane with fearful velocity, and, starting off the track of the rail 
 road, pitched down iuto a ravine full of rocks and blocks of granite, 
 
 () Lacking the nightingale and the lark, I think they want the two perfect 
 specimens of natural music. 
 
JOURNAL. 283 
 
 over which the road passes like a bridge at the Foot of the quarry. I 
 believe one of them was killed, and the others most terribly injured. 
 The rough blocks of granite are conveyed by horses, in the same rail 
 road cars, to smaller quarries below, where they are wrought and shaped 
 for their appointed uses. After looking down from the summit of the 
 granite rock upon the country which lay smiling for many a sunny mile 
 of flowery earth and sparkling sea below, anJ wandering about the 
 works, which are interesting and curious, we remounted, and rode home 
 over turfy wood-paths, through tangled thickets of pine, fir, and cedar, 
 whose warm fragrance was beginning to be drawn forth by the morning 
 sun.We disturbed in our path a poor woodcock,who was sitling with her 
 young : it was a pity to see the poor thing flutter about her treasure, 
 and go trailing a little way into the brush-wood, to entice us away from 
 them. Poor mother ! what a tempest of fear and agony was in your 
 downy breast. I was very sorry we had frightened her, poor creature. 
 The country we rode through was extremely pretty, so, indeed, 1 
 think all the country round Boston is ; the only deficiency is water, 
 running water, I mean; for there are several beautiful pools in this vici 
 nity, and, turn which way you will, the silver shield of the sea sbin- 
 ing against the horizon is a lovely feature of the landscape. But there 
 are no rivulets, no brooks, no sparkling singing water-courses to re 
 fresh one s senses, as one rides across the fields and through the wood 
 lands. called on us on Sunday last. He is very enchanting : I 
 
 wish it had been my good fortune to see him oftener. One of the great 
 men of this country, he would have been a firsl-rale man all the world 
 over; and, like all first-rate people, there is a simplicity and a total 
 want of pretension about him that is very delightful. He gave us a 
 description of Niagara, which did what he complained no description of 
 it ever does, conveyed to us an exact idea of the natural position and 
 circumstances which render these falls so wonderful; whereas, most 
 describers launch forth into vague and untangible rhapsodies, which, 
 after ail, convey no express idea of any thing but water in the abstract, 
 he gave me, by his few simple words, a more real impression of the 
 stupendous cataract than all that was ever writ or spoken of waterfalls 
 
 before, not excepting Byron s Terni. Last Saturday, I dined at s; 
 
 where, for my greater happiness, I sat between and . I re 
 member especially two bright things uttered; the one by the one, the 
 
2&i JOURNAL. 
 
 oilier by the other of Ihese worthies. Mr. , speaking of Knowles s 
 
 Hunchback, said, " Well, after all, it s no great matter. The author 
 evidently understands stage effect and dramatic situations, and so on; 
 but as for the writing, it shy no means as good as Shakspeare. "I 
 looked at the man in amazement, and suggested to him that Shakspeare 
 
 did not grow upon every bush. Presently, Mr. began a sentence 
 
 by assuring me that he was a worshipper of Shakspeare; and ended it 
 by saying that Othello was disgusting, King Lear ludicrous, and Romeo 
 and Juliet childish nonsense : whereat I swallowed half a pint of water, 
 and nearly my tumbler too, and remained silent ; for what could I say ? 
 
 However, in spile of this, I owe some gratitude, for he brought 
 
 to see me the other day, whose face is more like that of a good and 
 
 intellectual man than almost any face I ever saw. The climate of this 
 place is dreadful ! The night before last, the weather was so warm, 
 that, with my window open, I was obliged to take half the clothes off 
 my bed : last night was so cokl, that, with window shut, and additional 
 covering, I could scarce get to sleep for the cold. This is terrible, and 
 forms a serious drawback upon the various attractions of Boston ; and to 
 me it has many. The houses are like English houses : the Common is 
 like Constitution Hill; Beacon Street is like a bit of Park Lane; and 
 Summer Street, now that the chestnut trees are in bloom, is perfectly 
 beautiful. But for the climate, I should like to live in Boston very 
 much : my stay here has been delightful. It is in itself a lovely place, 
 and the country round it is charming. The people are intellectual, awl 
 have been most abundantly good-natured and kind to me. 
 
 I have finished s sermons, which are most excellent. I think he is 
 
 one of the purest English prose-writers now living. I revere him 
 greatly ; yet I do not think his denial of the Trinity is consistent with 
 the argument by which he maintains the truth of the miracles. I have 
 begun the Diary of an Ennuye e again : that book is most enchanting 
 to me, merely to read the names of the places in which one s imagina 
 tion goes sunning itself for ever, is delightful. 
 
 New York. 
 I have seen , who in Ms out ward man bears but little token of his 
 
JOURNAL. 285 
 
 inward greatness. Miss had prepared me for an exterior over which 
 
 dehility and sickness had triumphed now for some years; but, thought 
 I, there must be eyes and a brow; and there the spirit will surely be 
 seen upon its throne. But the eyes were small grey eyes, with an ex 
 pression which struck me at first as more akin to shrewdness of judgment, 
 than genius and the loftier qualities of the mind ; and though the brow 
 and forehead were ihose of an intellectual person, they had neither the 
 expanse nor conformation I had imagined. The subject of our conver 
 sation, though sufficiently natural for him to choose, addressing one of 
 my craft, did not appear to me to be a happy one for his own powers, 
 perhaps I thought so because I differed from him. He talked about the 
 stage and acting in as unreal, and, in my opinion, mistaken, a manner 
 as possible. Had he expressed himself unknowingly about acting, that 
 would not have surprised me; for he can have no means of judging of it, 
 not having frequented the theatre for some \ears past : and those who 
 have the best means of forming critical judgments upon dramatic subjects 
 for the most part talk arrant nonsense about them. Lawrence w r as (he 
 only man I ever heard speak about the stage who did so with under 
 standing and accuracy. I have heard the very cleverest men in England 
 talk the greatest stuff imaginable about actors and acting. But to return 
 
 to : he said he had not thought much upon the subject, but that it 
 
 appeared to him feasible and highly desirable to take detached passages 
 and scenes from the finest dramatic writers, and have them well declaimed 
 in comparatively private assemblies, this as a wholesome substitute for 
 the stage, of which he said he did not approve; and he thought this the 
 best method of obtaining the intellectual pleasure and profit to be derived 
 from fine dramatic works, without the illusion and excitement belonging 
 to theatrical exhibitions. My horror was so unutterable at this propo 
 sition, and my amazement so extreme that he should make it, that I 
 believe my replies to it were all but incoherent. What! take one of 
 Shakspeare s plays bit by bit, break it piece-meal, in order to make recitals 
 of it! destroy the marvellous unity of one of his magnificent works, to 
 make patches of declamation ! If the stage is evil, put it away, and put 
 away with it thos writings which properly belong to it, and to nothing 
 else; but do not take dramatic compositions, things full of present action 
 and emotion, to turn them into recitations, and mutilated ones too. 
 Get other poems to declaim, no matter how vivid or impassioned in their 
 
2H6 JOURNAL. 
 
 descriptions, so their form be not dramatic. It is not to be supposed that 
 the effect proper and natural to a fine dramatic conception can be pre 
 served when the language is merely declaimed without the assistance of 
 distance, dress, scenic effects, all the appertainings that the author has 
 reckoned upon to work out his idea. mentioned the dagger soli 
 loquy in Macbeth, as an instance which would admit of being executed 
 after his idea; saying, that that, well read by any person in a drawing- 
 room, would have all the effect necessary or desirable. I remember 
 hearing my aunt Siddons read the scenes of the witches in Macbeth; and, 
 whiledoing so, wasobliged tocover my eyes, that her velvet gown, modern 
 cap, and spectacles might not disturb the wild and sublime images that 
 her magnificent voice and recitation were conjuring up around me. If 
 a man professes to tell you a story, no matter what, say the story of 
 Romeo and Juliet, and sits in a modern drawing-room, in modern 
 costume, it mailers not, lie is no part of his story, you do not connect 
 him with his narrative, his appearance in no way clashes with your 
 train of thought, you are not thinking of him, but of the people he is 
 talking about. But if a man in a modern drawing-room, and in modern 
 costume, were to get up, and begin reciting the balcony scene in Romeo 
 and Juliet, I think the case would be altered. However, never having 
 heard such a proposal before, I had not thought much about it, and only 
 felt a little stunned at the idea of Shakspeare s histories being broken 
 into fragments. ( ) 
 
 ( ) Among the many signs of the total decay of dramatic mind and spirit in 
 this age, a frequent piece of criticism passed upon modern plays appears to me 
 a very conclusive one "Such a play is exceedingly full of dramatic effect, but 
 there s no poetry in it." "Such a playwright understands situation and character, 
 hut really, reading his plays, you find no poetry in them." I have heard this 
 bright comment passed repeatedly upon the best dramatic composition of modern 
 times, the Hunchback; a play whose immense popularity every where is the 
 surest and truest warrant of its excellence, a play containing the most dramatic 
 situations, the most pathetic and comic effects, and by far the finest conception 
 of a female character of any play since the old golden dramatic age. I do not 
 hesitate to say that this is a most false piece of criticism, induced alone by a want 
 of perception of what are the requisites in a dramatic poem, and a total absence of 
 true dramatic feeling. First, in the ingredients of a fine play, comes the fiction, 
 
JOURNAL 28-7 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 At a little after ten, came to take us to see the savages. We 
 
 drove down, D , my father, he, and I, to their hotel. We found, 
 
 even at that early hour, the portico, passage, and staircase, thronged 
 with gazers upon the same errand as ourselves. We made our way, at 
 length, into the presence-chamber; a little narrow dark room, with all 
 the windows shut, crowded with people, come to stare al their fellow 
 wild beasts. Upon a sofa sat Black Hawk, a diminutive shrivelled- 
 looking old man, with an appearance of much activity in his shrunk 
 limbs, and a calmness and dignified self- composure in his manner, which, 
 in spite of his want of size and comeliness, was very striking. Next to 
 him sat a young man, the adopted son of his brother the prophet, whose 
 height and breadth, and peculiar gravity of face and deportment, were 
 those of a man nearly forty, whereas he is little more than half that age. 
 The undisturbed seriousness of his countenance was explained tome by 
 their keeper, thus : he had, it seems, the day before, indulged rather too 
 freely in the delights of champagne, and was suffering just retribution 
 in the shape of a headach, unjust retribution, I should say, for in his 
 savage experience no such sweet bright poison had ever before been 
 
 the invention ; to this belong those same mueh-sneered-at stage effects, and 
 theatrical situations; next comes the skilful and powerful delineation of indivi 
 dual character; lastly comes the item of a poetical diction. One alone has united 
 these in their utmost perfection ; for such another the world may look in vain. 
 Rut I think the play-goers of Shakspeare s time would have been tolerably satisfied 
 with a most interesting fiction, and a true and vigorous delineation of character; 
 and let me ask, is there no poetry besides that of words? is there no poetry 
 in the fable of a play none in the faithful portraying of a human being s mind 
 and passions? As for all pretty speeches, lengthy descriptions, abstract disqui 
 sitions, unless things placed in the mouth of characters to whose identity such 
 mental manifestations belong, they are inadmissible in a right good play, and 
 should by all means be confined to the pages of those anomalous modern growths, 
 plays for the closet. Tn all our elder dramatists, Shakspeare alone excepted, 
 the main quality of a play, the story, is often defective to an excess, not only in 
 morality, but in probability and consistency; and the same defects exist in the 
 delineation of character in many of their noblest plays. 
 
288 JOURNAL. 
 
 recorded, / guess, by the after pain it causes. Next to him sat Black 
 Hawk s son, a noble bigyoung creature, like a fine Newfoundland puppy, 
 with a handsome scornful face, which yet exhibited more familiarity and 
 good-humoured amusement at what was going on than any of the rest. 
 His hair was powdered on the top, and round the ears, with a bright 
 vermilion- coloured powder, and knots of scarlet berries or beads, I don t 
 know which, hung like ear-rings on each side of his face. A string of 
 glass beads was tied round his naked throat; he was wrapped in a 
 large blanket, which completely concealed his form, except his legs and 
 feet, which were clothed in common leather shoes, and a species of 
 deerskin gaiter. He seemed much alive to what was going on, conversed 
 freely in his own language with his neighbour, and laughed once or twice 
 aloud, which rather surprised me, as I had heard so much of their im 
 movable gravity. The costume of the other young man was much the same, 
 except that his hair was not adorned. Black Hawk himself had on a 
 blue cloth suriout, scarlet leggings, a black silk neck-handkerchief, and 
 ear-rings. His appearance altogether was not unlike that of an old 
 French gentleman. Beside him, on a chair, sat one of his warriors, 
 wrapped in a blanket, with a cotton handkerchief whisped round 
 his head. At one of the windows apart from their companions, 
 with less courtesy in their demeanour, and a great deal of sullen 
 savageness in their serious aspects, sat the great warrior, and the 
 prophet of the tribe the latter is Black Hawk s brother. I cannot express 
 the feeling of commiseration and disgust which the whole scene gave me. 
 That men such as ourselves, creatures with like feelings, like perceptions, 
 should be brought, as strange animals at a show, to be gazed at the 
 livelong day by succeeding shoals of gaping folk, struck me as totally un 
 fitting. The cold dignity of the old chief, and the malignant scowi of the 
 prophet, expressed the indecency and the irksomeness of such a situation. 
 Then, to look at those two young savages, with their fine muscular pro 
 portions, and think of them cooped up the whole horrible day long, in 
 this hot prison-house full of people, made my heart ach. How they 
 must loathe the sight of these narrow walls, and the sound of these strange 
 voices; how they must sicken for their unmeasured range of wilderness! 
 The gentleman who seemed to have the charge of them pressed me to 
 go up and shake hands with them, as every body else in the room did ; 
 but I refused to do so from literal compassion, and unwillingness to add 
 
JOURNAL. 289 
 
 lo the wearisome toil they were made to undergo. As we were depart 
 ing, however, they reiterated their entreaties that we would go up and 
 shake hands with them, so I did. Black Hawk and the young men 
 received our courtesy with great complaisance ; hut when we went to 
 the great warrior and the prophet, they seemed exceedingly loath to 
 receive our hands, the latter particularly, who had, moreover, one of the 
 very worst expressions I think I ever saw upon a human countenance. I 
 instinctively withdrew my hand ; hut when my father offered his, the 
 savage s face relaxed into a smile, and he met his greeting readily. 1 
 wonder what pleased him about my father s appearance, whether it was 
 his large size or not. I had a silver vinaigrette in my pouch, which I 
 gave Black Hawk s son, by way of keepsake : it will make a charming 
 present for his squaw. 
 
 Sunday, June 50t/i. 
 
 Rose at four, but, after looking at my watch, resumed my slumbers 
 until six, when I started up, much dismayed to find it so late, and 
 presently, having dressed as fast as ever I could, we set off for the steam 
 boat. The morning was the brightest possible, the glorious waters that 
 meet before New York were all like rivers of light blazing with the 
 reflected radiance of the morning sky. We had no sooner set foot on 
 board the steam-boat, than a crowd of well-known faces surrounded us: 
 
 I was introduced to Mr. , and Mr. the brother of our host at 
 
 Cold Spring. Mr. came and stood by me for a considerable time 
 
 after we started. It is agreeable to talk to him, because he has known 
 and seen so much; traversed the world in every direction, and been the 
 friend of Byron and Shelley; a common mind, that had enjoyed the 
 same opportunities (that s impossible, by the by, no common mind would 
 have sought or found them), must have acquired something from inter 
 course with such men, and such wide knowledge of things; but he is an 
 uncommon man, and it is very interesting to hear him talk of what he 
 
 has seen, and those he has known. * 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 When we reached W r est Point, Mr. was wailing with his boat to 
 
 convey us over to Cold Spring; and accordingly, bidding our various ac 
 quaintance and companions farewell, we rowed over out of the course of 
 the river, into a sunny bay it forms among the hills, to our kinsmun s 
 
 abode. 
 
 i3 
 
290 JOURNAL. 
 
 Mr. s p ace is a lovely little nook, situated on the summit of a ris 
 
 on the brink of the placid curve of water formed here by the river, and 
 which extends itself from the main current about a mile into the moun 
 tains, ending in a wide marsh. The house, though upon a hill, is so 
 looked down upon, and locked in by the highlands around it, that it 
 seems to be at the bottom of a valley. From the verandah of his house, 
 through various frames which he has had cut, with exceeding good judg 
 ment, among the plantations around the lawn, exquisite glimpses appeared 
 of the mountains, the little bay, the glorious Hudson itself, with the 
 graceful boats for ever walking its broad waters, their white sails coming 
 through the rocky passes where the river could not be detected, as though 
 they were sailing through the valleys of the earth. The day was warm, 
 but a fresh breeze stirred the boughs, and cooled the air. My father and 
 
 D seemed overcome with drowsiness, and lay in the verandah with 
 
 half-closed eyes, peeping at the dream-like scene around them, f was 
 
 not inclined to rest j and Mr. having promised to show me some 
 
 falls at a short distance from the house, he, his brother, and I set forth 
 thither. We passed through the iron- works : t was Sunday, and every 
 thing, except a bright water-course, laughing and singing as it ran, was 
 still. They took me over the works ; showed me the iron frames of large 
 mill-wheels, the machinery and process of boring the cannon, the mode! 
 of an iron forcing-pump, ihe casting-houses, and all the wonders of their 
 manufactory. All mechanical science is very interesting tome, \vhen I 
 have an opportunity of seeing the detail of it, and comprehending, by 
 illustrations presented to my eyes, the technical terms used by those 
 conversing with me. We left these dark abodes, and their smouldering 
 fires, and strange powerful-looking instruments, and, taking a path at 
 the foot of the mountains, skirted the marsh for some time, and then 
 struck into the w r oods, ascending a tremendous stony path, at the top oi 
 which we threw ourselves down to pant, and looked below, through a 
 narrow rent in the curtain of leaves around us, on the river, and rocks, 
 and mountains, bright with the noonday splendour of the unclouded sky 
 After resting here a few moments, we arose, and climbed again, through 
 the woods, across a sweet clover-field, to the brow of the hill where 
 stands the highland school, a cheerful-looking cottage, with the moun 
 tain tops all round, the blessed sky above, and the downward sloping 
 woods, and lake-like river below. Passing through the ground surround- 
 
JOURNAL. 291 
 
 ing it, we joined a road skirting a deep ravine, from the bottom of which 
 the waters called to me. I was wild to go down, but my companions 
 would not let me : it was in vain that I strained over the brink, the trees 
 were so thickly woven together, and the hollow so deep, that I could see 
 nothing but dark boughs, except every now and then, as the wind stirred 
 them, the white glimmer of the leaping foam, as it sprang away with a 
 shout that made my heart dance. We followed the path, which began 
 to decline; and presently a silver thread of gushing water ran like a 
 frightened child across our way, and flung itself down into the glen. At 
 
 length we reached the brown golden-looking stream. Mr. was 
 
 exhorting us to take an upper path, which, he said, would bring 
 us to the foot of the fall ; but I was not to be seduced away from 
 the side of the rivulet, and insisted upon crossing it then and 
 there, through the water, over moss-capped stones, arross fallen 
 trees, which, struck by the lightning, or undermined by the cold- 
 kissing waters, had choked up the brook with their leafy bridges. 
 So striving on, as best we might, after wading through the stream 
 two or three times, we reached the end and aim of our journey, the 
 waterfall. We stood on the brink of a pool, about forty feet across, 
 and varying in depth from three to seven or eight feet: it was 
 perfectly circular, and except on the south, where the waters take 
 their path down the glen, closed round with a wall of rock about thirty 
 feet high, in whose crevices trees with their rifted roots hung fearlessly, 
 clothing the grey stone with a soft curtain of vivid green. Immediately 
 opposite the brook, and at the north of the pool, the water came tumbling 
 over this rocky wall in three distinct streams, which, striking the pro 
 jecting ledges of iron-looking stone, at different angles, met within eight 
 or ten feet of the pool, and fell in a mingled sheet of foam. The water 
 broke over the rocks like a shower of splintered light ; the spray sprang 
 up in the sunlight^ arid fell again all glittering into the dark basin below, 
 that gleamed like a magic jewel set in the mossy earth. On the edge of 
 the rocks, beside the waterfall, a tree stood out among its greenly- 
 mantled fellows, bare, broken, and scathed to the very roots with 
 lightning. Its upper half had fallen aslant one branch of the waterfall, 
 and lay black and dripping over the pure white torrent ; half falling down 
 its course., half stayed by some rocky ledges on which it rested. As I 
 gazed up in perfect ecstasy, an uncontrollable desire seized me to clamber 
 
292 JOURNAL. 
 
 up the rocks by the sijje of the fall, and so reach the top of it. My 
 companions laughed incredulously as I expressed my determination to 
 do so ; but followed where I led, until they became well assured that I 
 was in earnest. Remonstrance, and representation of impossibility, 
 
 having been tried in vain, Mr. prepared to guide me, and Mr. 
 
 with my bag, parasol, and bonnet in charge, returned to the edge of the 
 pool to watch our progress. Away we went over the ledges of the rocks, 
 with nothing but damp leaves, and slippery roots of trees, for footing. 
 At one moment, the slight covering of mould on which I had placed my 
 foot crumbled from beneath it, and I swung over the water by a young 
 sapling which upheld me well, and by which I recovered footing and 
 balance. We had now reached the immediate side of the waterfall, and 
 my guide began ascending the slippery slanting rocks down which it fell. 
 T followed : in an instant I was soaked through with the spray, my feet 
 slipped, I had no hold, he was up above me, I he pool far below. With 
 my head bowed against the foam and water, I was feeling where next to 
 tread, when a bit of rock, that my companion had thought firm, broke 
 beneath his foot, and came falling down beside me into the stream. I 
 paused, for I was frightened : I looked up for a moment, but was blinded 
 by the water, and could not see where my guide was; I looked clown the 
 slanting ledge we had climbed, over which the white water was churn 
 ing angrily : " Shall I come down again? " I cried to Mr. , who was 
 
 anxiously looking up at our perilous path. " Give me your hand," 
 shouted his brother, above me. I lifted my head, and turned towards 
 him, and a dazzling curtain of spray and foam fell over my face. " I 
 cannot see you," I replied ; "I cannot go on; I do not know what to do." 
 "Give me your hand! " he exclaimed again; and I, planting one fool 
 upon a ledge of rock so high as to lift me off the other, held up my arm 
 to him : but my limbs were so strained from his height above me, that I 
 had no power to spring or move, either up or down. However, I felt my 
 presence of mind going : I knew that to go down was impossible, except 
 headlong ; the ascent must therefore be persevered in. " Are you steady, 
 quite, quite steady ?" I enquired; he replied," Yes; "and holding out his 
 hand, I locked mine in it, and bade him draw me up. But he had not 
 calculated upon my weight ; my slight appearance had deceived him ; 
 and. as I bore upon his arm, we both of us slipped. I turned as sick as 
 death; but only cried out, " Recover yourself, recover yourself, I ana 
 
JOURNAL. 295 
 
 safe;" which I was, upon a rocky rim about three inches wide, with my 
 arm resting on the falling stump of the blasted tree. He did recover his 
 balance; and, again holding out his hand, drew me up beside where he 
 was sitting, on the edge of the rocks, in the water. We pledged each 
 other in the clear stream; and, standing on the top of our hardly-gained 
 eminence, in the midst of the rushing brook I wrang my handkerchief 
 
 triumphantly at Mr. ; which was rather a comical consideration, as 
 
 I was literally dripping from head to foot. No Nai ad ever looked so 
 tlioroughly watery, or could have taken more delight in a ducking. As 
 soon as he saw us safe, he scrambled up through the woods to the road ; 
 .ind we doing the same, we presently all met on the dusty highway, 
 where we congratulated each other on our perseverance and success, 
 and laughed very exceedingly at my soaked situation. We determined 
 not to pass through the highland school-ground, but kept the main road 
 for the advantage of sun and wind, the combined influences of which 
 presently dried my frock and handkerchief. When I reached home, ran 
 up stairs, and dressed myself for dinner, which we sat down to at about 
 four. After dinner, came up to my room and slept very profoundly, 
 imtil summoned to coffee, which we drank in the verandah. At about 
 eight o clock, the sun had left the sky; but his warm mantle lay over the 
 western clouds, and hung upon the rocks and woody mountain sides. 
 A gentle breeze was stirring the trees round where we sat; and through 
 the thick branches of a chestnut tree, as they waved lo and fro, the silver 
 disk of the full moon looked placidly down upon us. We set out strolling 
 through the woods : leisurely as foot could fall, we took our way through 
 the twilight paths; and when we reached the Roman Catholic chapel our 
 li9St is building by the river side, the silent thoughtful mountains were 
 wrapped in (teep shadows, and the broad waters shone like a sheet of 
 silver in the moonlight. We sat down on the cannon lying on the 
 
 pebbly shore, and Mr. ran off lo order the boat, which presently 
 
 came stealing round over the shining waters. We got in, rowing, 
 
 and they put me at the helm: but, owing to Mr. s misdirections, 
 
 who seemed extremely amused at my awkwardness, and took delight in 
 
 bothering poor , by making me steer all awry, we made but little 
 
 progress, and that rather crab-wise; backing, and sideling, and turning, 
 as though the poor boat had been a politician. 
 
2% JOURNAL. 
 
 Full of my own contemplations, I kept steering round and round, and so 
 we wandered, as purposeless as the night air over the smooth waters, and 
 beneath the shadows of the solemn hills, till near eleven o clock, when 
 we made for shore, and slowly turned home. We sat for a length of 
 time nder the verandah : the gentlemen were discussing the planetary 
 
 system, as accepted in the civilised world; and Mr. maintained, 
 
 with sufficient plausibility, that we knew nothing at all about it, in spite of 
 Newton : for that, though his theories were borne out by all observation, 
 it did not follow, therefore, that another theory equally probable might not 
 exist; (hatbecause he had found out oneway of accounting for the construc 
 tion and motion of the heavenly bodies, there was no other possible way 
 in which they were constructed and impelled; because one means is 
 sufficient, he argued, it does not thence follow, that tis the only 
 
 sufficient means. Mr. maintained that there was, at least, strong 
 
 presumption in favour of Newton s systems; because they are borneout by 
 our observation of results, and also because hitherto no other belter method 
 of accounting for what we perceive has been discovered. And so they 
 went on, the end of all being, to my mind, as usual, utter unsatisfactoriness; 
 and, as the musquitoes were stinging me, I left them to their discussions, 
 and came to bed. 
 
 Monday, July \st. 
 
 Major and Mr. came over from West Point : they were 
 
 going to prove some cannon that had not yet been fired ; and some time 
 passed in the various preparations for so doing. At length, we were 
 summoned down to the water-side, to see the success of the experiment, 
 The cannon lay obliquely one behind the other, at intervals of about 
 six yards, along the curve line of the little bay; their muzzles pointed to 
 the high gravelly bank into which they fired. The guns were double- 
 loaded, with very heavy charges; and as soon as we were safely placed, 
 so as to see and hear, they were fired. The sound was glorious : the 
 first heavy peal, anJ then echo after echo, as they rimbombavano among 
 the answering hills, who growled aloud at the stern voice waking their 
 still and noonday s deep repose. I pushed out in the boat, from shore, 
 to see the thick curtain of smoke as it rolled its silver, and brassy, and 
 black volumes over the woody mountain-sides ; parting in jagged rents 
 as it rose ; through which the vivid green, and blessed sky, smiled in 
 their peaceful loneliness They ended in discharging all the cannon as 
 
JOURNAL. 205 
 
 once; which made a most glorious row, and kept the mountains grum 
 bling 1 witli its echoes for some minutes after the discharge. All the pieces 
 were sound ; which was highly satisfactory, as upon each one that flaws 
 
 in the firing Mr. loses the cost of the piece. Just as the smoke 
 
 cleared off from the river, we saw the boat making to shore; and, pre 
 sently, Mr. , his wife and children, and a young Mr. , landed. 
 
 After introductions, and one or two questions, Mrs. went up to her 
 
 cottage to put things in order there ; Mr. betook himself to Froissart 
 
 and the shade ; Mr. to his business ; and D , my father, Mr. - 
 
 and myself, set forth to the fountain in the glen. The weather was in 
 tensely hot; the thermomeler above ninety in the shade; it was about 
 half-past twelve; and we toiled and gasped on like so many Indians up 
 
 the steep path. The walk had been so laborious, that neither D nor 
 
 my father were willing, at first, to admit that the object was a sufficient 
 one. We sat for some time by the dark shady pool ; and they, by 
 degrees, recovered their breath and complacency, and began to perceive 
 Jiow beautiful the place really was. My father said the waterfall looked 
 like a fine lace veil torn by the rocks; which pleased me, because 
 
 it did look like that. Mr. proposed an admirable plan, that of 
 
 walking down the water s side, and taking a boat upon the Hudson ; 
 and so avoiding the long hot walk home. We called at the highland 
 school ; where the worthy man who keeps it received us with infinite 
 civility, put us into a delicious cool room, and gave us some white her 
 mitage and water to drink, which did us all manner of good. ( ) We 
 
 ( ) Of the mental process which the pupils at this highland school undergo, I 
 can say nothing, being totally unacquainted with the system of education adopted 
 there; but a more advantageous residence for the cultivation of health, strength 
 (for physical education), or the development of all those pious and poetical 
 tendings of the human soul and mind which are fostered and ripened by the 
 sublime influence of natural beauty and grandeur, cannot be imagined. The 
 gentlemen at the head of this establishment are New Englanders. The observa 
 tions I made upon the superior intelligence and cultivation of the natives of that 
 part of the United States have heen home out constantly by the fact, that there 
 is hardly any establishment in the States I have visited, in any way connected 
 with education, or the dissemination of information, which is not conducted 
 partially or entirely by New Englanders. 
 
296 JOURNAL. 
 
 then descended to the river : after some delay and difficulty, got a boat 
 and rowed home. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Here be the free gifts of the morning for thee; 
 Dog-roses, with their thorns all strung with pearls, 
 And a large round diamond in each rosy cup : 
 Their leaves are the colour of Aurora s cheeks. 
 Here is a pale white flower, without a name, 
 At least to me, who am a stranger here r 
 It has a delicate almond smell, and grew 
 Among thick boughs, and leaves that guarded it. 
 Poor thing! I took it from its shelter forlhee. 
 Here be some lilac heads of clover, sweet 
 As the breath oflove : they lay amongst the hay 
 In a new-mown meadow, glittering in the sun. 
 Here are the leaves of the wild vine, that shine 
 Like glass without, and underneath are white 
 And soft as a swan s breast. There is an oak branch; 
 I gather c! it, because it grows at home, 
 And in this strange land look d as sad and loving 
 As a friend s face : when it is wither d, keep it. 
 They are all heavy with the tears of the night, 
 Who weeps, because she ma\ not meet the sun; 
 And when he comes down from the mountain tops, 
 Parting the forests wilh his hands of fire, 
 He drinks her weeping, kissing all the flowers 
 With passionate, love, which makes them look so blushing. 
 
 Tuesday, 2t/. 
 
 Packed up ray bag 1 ,, look a cup of lea, went, and gathered some flowers, 
 and gave the poor lamb some heads of clover; bade a very unwilling- 
 farewell to the pretty place, and rowed over to West Point, where 
 Mr. was waiting for us. We breakfasted at ten, and went down 
 
JOURNAL. 2<J7 
 
 lo meet the boat. Young Mr. came over to see us off, and brought 
 
 me some lovely fresh flowers. Mr. and Mr. were both at the 
 
 embarking-post. When the boat came up, the rush to and from it was, 
 
 without exception, the most frightful thing I ever saw. The s were 
 
 landing; and I just spoke to her, as she was borne past by the throng. 
 Safely on board, I again found myself surrounded by familiar faces : I 
 
 took out my work, and Mr. sat down by us. As a nuisance, which 
 
 all unsought-for companionship is, he is quite the most endurable pos 
 sible; for he has seen such things, and known such people, that it is 
 greatly worth while to listen to him. Every thing he says of Byron and 
 Shelley confirms my own impression of them. The scenery of the 
 Hudson, immediately beyond West Point, loses much of its sublimity, 
 though no beauty. The river widens, and the rugged summits of the 
 highlands melt gradually into a softer and more undulating outline. The 
 richness, and swelling, and falling of the land reminded me occasionally 
 of England. The yellow grain was giving diversity and w r armth to the 
 green landscape ; and the shadowy woods fencing the corn-fields threw 
 over the whole picture a sheltering peaceful charm. On the left, we 
 presently began to see the blue outline of the Catskill mountains, tower 
 ing into the hot sky, and looking most blessedly cool and dark amid the 
 
 fervid glowing of the noonday world. Mrs. came on board at one 
 
 of the stopping places. I was quite glad to see her sweet face, and hear 
 
 her gentle voice again. Mr. was greatly smitten with her calm 
 
 look of repose, and lulling speech, and took to her vehemently. She 
 told me long stories, like fairy tales, of caverns lately discovered in the 
 bosom of these mountains; of pits black and fathomless ; of subterranean 
 lakes in gloomy chambers of the earth ; and tumbling waters, which fall 
 down in the dark, where men heard, but none had dared to go. Uow 
 I should like to go there ! Oh, who will lead me into the secret parls of 
 the earth ; who will guide me to the deep hiding-places where spirits are 
 where the air of this upper world is not breathed, and its sounds are 
 unknown where the light of the sun is unseen, and the voice of human 
 creatures unheard ? how I should like to go there ! At about half- past 
 three in the afternoon, the sky became suddenly and thickly overcast : 
 the awning which sheltered the upper deck was withdrawn, and every 
 preparation made for a storm. The pale angry-looking clouds lay heaped 
 like chalk upon a leaden sky; and presently one red lightning dipped 
 
298 JOURNAL 
 
 down into Ihe woods like a fiery snake falling from the heavens. At the 
 same time, a furious gust of wind and torrent of rain rushed down the 
 mountain side. We scuttled down to the lower deck as fast as ever we 
 could; but the storm met us at the bottom of the stairs, and in an instant 
 I was drenched. Chairs, tables, every thing was overturned by the gust ; 
 and the boat was running with water in every direction. It thundered 
 and lightened a little; but the noise of the engine was such, that we 
 scarce heard the storm. I stood by the door of the furnace, and dried 
 
 leisurely , talking the while to Mr. , who is sun-burnt enough to 
 
 warm one through with a look. During our progress, one of the wheels 
 (or paddles, as they are properly called) took it into its head to knock its 
 case to pieces, and banged the boards about in a strange way. Accident 
 the second : one of the men, a black, who was employed in tending the 
 fire, got so dreadfully heated with the intense furnace, that he rushed 
 out of the engine-room, and swallowed two or three draughts of cold 
 water. The effect was instantaneous : he fell down in violent internal 
 spasms, and died, poor wretch! before we arrived at Albany. We 
 reached that town at about half-past five in the afternoon, and went to 
 
 a house the s recommended to us. At about seven, they gave us 
 
 dinner; and immediately after I came up to my own room. I was so 
 exhausted with fatigue, and a violent cold and cough, that I literally fell 
 down on the floor, and slept till dark. As we came up the river, we 
 
 passed Dr. s place, Hyde Park, which has the reputation of being 
 
 the best-kept private estate in America : the situation of the house, on 
 the edge of a ridge, appeared to me. from the river, rather too much 
 exposed. 
 
 Saturday, C/ft. 
 My father had settled to go to the Cohoes Falls. * 
 
 When we were in the steam-boat, going up to Troy, ( ) put a letter 
 
 ( ) Troy ! and that Troy has a Mount Ida! The names of places in this coun 
 try are truly astonishing. Troy, Syracuse, and Rome are pretty well in this way; 
 but the state of New York alone, I believe, boasts of a Manlius, a Homer, a 
 Virgil, an Ovid, a Cicero, and a Socrates, whose second appearance in this world 
 
JOURNAL. 291) 
 
 into my hands, which he told me was written by the mother of Allegra, 
 Byron s child. The letter was remarkable only for more straightforward 
 ness and conciseness than is usual in women s letters. I do not know 
 whether gave it me to read on that account alone, or because it con 
 tained allusions to wild and interesting adventures of his own : perhaps 
 there was a mingling of motives. There never was, by the by, a homo 
 geneous motive, as Brewster would say, in the human breast. We reached 
 Troy in about twenty minutes, and walked tip into the town to procure 
 some species of vehicle for our progress to the falls. There was none 
 ready; and while one was being procured, a man, who was standing 
 near us, very civilly invited us to come into his shop and sit down, which 
 we did very readily. The situation of the warehouses, on the side near 
 the river, of the main street of Troy, is exceedingly pretty. They are. 
 for the most part, large long rooms, opening to the street at the one end, 
 and on the other looking down, from a considerable height, upon the 
 Hudson. The shop we were in was a china-store ; and the nice cold 
 crockery-ware made one cool to look at it : the weather was roasting. 
 
 Mr. left us to gather information, and kindly brought me back word 
 
 that the population of Troy was five hundred, or five thousand, I really 
 forget which ; and, for my journal, it don t much matter; and that the 
 storekeeper assured him the Trojans were an exceedingly refined and 
 literary set of folks; and that the society, in point of these two advan 
 tages, was no whit behind Boston : there s for Boston ! We obtained a 
 coach, and crossed a ferry, such as I had never seen before, worked by 
 
 horses. Poor wretches ! they reminded me of s steeds, Martyre et 
 
 Souffrance. Mr. observed that they led the life of the majority ; 
 
 and so they do, labour and suffering that custom renders endurable, 
 and that ends by grindingdown every faculty of mind or soul : we re a 
 blessed pack of drudges, and deserve to be just what we are. After 
 crossing the ferry, we drove about five miles through some gentle smil 
 ing lands, that made one feel very charitable. The Cohoes is, I believe, 
 a Dutch name for a hill just above a turn in the Mohawk, where, after 
 some shallow, rapid, hasty running over a rocky bed, the river flings 
 itself down over a broad barrier, between thirty and forty feet high, 
 with the most delightful gushing sound in the world. The foam looked 
 
 is in all the glories of flaming red bricks, new boards, and white paint. Did Py 
 thagoras admit of men becoming towns as well as beasts? I forget. 
 
300 JOURNAL. 
 
 very nice, and soft, and thick, and cold : I loftged to be in the middle 
 of it. * * * * * 
 
 4 * * * * 
 
 After wandering about for some time, we sat ourselves down on a high 
 
 grassy knoll just above the falls. * * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 We returned in time, as we flattered ourselves, to meet the steam-boat 
 which leaves Troy for Albany at four; but, just as we were crossing the 
 ferry, the steamer ran past us, leaving us, with eyes and mouths wide 
 open, very much bothered as to how we were to get down to Albany. 
 D proposed a row-boat, and the sense of the company seemed to 
 agree thereto; but, upon driving to the inn where we hired our carnage, 
 and enquiring for such a conveyance, we were assured that there was no 
 such thing to be had : whereupon my father, good easy man ! believed 
 
 there was not, and got into the coach again. Mr. , however, had 
 
 absconded, and remained gone so long, that I began to think he had, 
 perhaps, started to swim down the river; when lie presently appeared, 
 informing us that he had gotten a boat for us. We jumped readily out 
 of the caach ; and, though my father had actually made a bargain for 
 the hire of it, to convey us to Albany, with the innkeeper, and, moreover, 
 given him the money, the righteous man refunded the dollars; which, 
 Falslaff knows, is a displeasing thing to do : " I hate that paying back!" 
 Our row back was delightful : the evening was calm and lovely beyond 
 description ; the sun had lost his fierceness, and the warm air clasped the 
 fresh woods tenderly ; the waters were unbroken as a mirror; the very 
 spirit of love and peace possessed the world : the effect of all which was 
 to send me into a very sound sleep. * * 
 
 We reached Albany in very good time for dinner. Mr. dined with 
 
 us : what a savage he is, in some respects! He s a curious being : a 
 description of him would puzzle any one who had never seen him. A 
 man with the proportions of a giant for strength and agility; taller, 
 straighter, and broader than most men; yet with the most listless indo 
 lent carelessness of gait, and an uncertain wandering way of dropping 
 his feet to the ground, as if he did n t know where he was going, and 
 did n t much wish to go any where. His face is as dark as a Moor s ; 
 
JOURNAL. 301 
 
 with a wild strange look about the eyes and forehead, and a mark like a 
 scar upon his cheek : his whole appearance giving one an idea of toil, 
 hardship, peril, and wild adventure. The expression of his moutli is 
 remarkably mild and sweet, and his voice is extremely low and gentle. 
 His hands are as brown as a labourer s : he never profanes them with 
 gloves, but wears two strange magical-looking rings : one -of them, 
 which he showed me, is made of elephant s hair. * 
 
 Occasionally, in his horror of one class of prejudices, he embraces the 
 opposite ones : perhaps the extreme of any evil, in this world of imperfect 
 means, can only be effectually resisted by its reverse extreme. 
 
 Monday, 8th. 
 
 After breakfast, went lo rehearsal : Mr. came with us. The 
 
 actors were one and all reading their parts : the lady who played Char- 
 lolte was the only exception she was perfect. As I sat on the stage, 
 between my scenes, a fat, good-tempered, rosy, bead-eyed, wet-haired, 
 shining-faced looking man accosted me; and, having ascertained that I 
 was myself, proceeded to accuse me of having, in Mrs. Haller, pro 
 nounced the word " industry" with the accent on the middle syllable, 
 as u industry;" adding, that he had already quoted my authority to 
 several people for the emphasis, and begging to know my "exquisite 
 reason" therefor. It was in vain that I urged that it must have been a 
 mistake if I said so ; that I never meant to say so, if I did say so ; that if 
 I did say so, I was very wrong to say so; that I was very sorry for 
 having said so; that I never would say so again. Between each of 
 my humblest apologies my accuser merely replied, " But you did 
 say industry," with an indexible pertinacity of condemnation, which 
 was not a whit softened by my sincere confessions. Presently the 
 worthy creature, adverting to the letter in the Mirror about General 
 Jackson, begged that as I had passed the fourth of July, that glorious 
 anniversary, in Albany, I would illustrate its celebration by some 
 remarks in the style of that admirable composition. Great was the fat 
 man s surprise, and evident his contempt for me, when I disclaimed 
 the authorship of that document. Greater still waxed both, when 
 J assured him that on the fourth of July I positively walked out of 
 
302 JOUKNAL. 
 
 the town, to avoid the noise in it. After this, he remained gazing at me 
 in silent amazement ; and, as soon as he had sufficiently recovered from 
 it to move, he took up his hat, and briefly wished me " good morning." 
 
 Mr. told me the man was a newspaper-editor ; hut I think he 
 
 looked too fat, and fresh, and good-tempered for that. When we re 
 turned home, sat down to write journal. * * 
 
 The play was the Gamester : the house was very full. Mr. -- did 
 not know one syllable of his part, and bothered me utterly. At the end 
 of the play, they called for my father, and civilly desired we would act 
 the Hunchback; as, however, we had not the dresses for it with us, lie 
 declined, but promised we would return hereafter. 
 
 Tuesday, 9th. 
 
 After breakfast, the day being extremely fine, Mr. -- urged us to 
 go out, and take a walk ; so forth we set, my father and I leading the 
 way, and D -- and Mr. -- following. 
 
 We crossed the river, and, following the first road like a flock of geese 
 errant, arrived at the top of a delightful breezy knoll, opposite a tiny wa 
 terfall, the rocks and basin of which were picturesque; but the water 
 had been turned off to turn a mill. The bill where we stood command 
 ed a beautiful view of the Hudson, Albany, and the shores stretching 
 
 away into sunny indistinctness. My father, and D , and Mr. , 
 
 sat down under some oak trees : I ran off to explore the stream. 
 
 After looking about in every direction, I returned to my friends: we 
 strolled away through the woods and along the high road, with the 
 sweet smell of mellow hay keeping us company the while. We halted at 
 an orchard corner, near a pleasant-looking farm, where we all agreed 
 we should like to live. 
 
JOURNAL so:i 
 
 Mr. killed us with laughing with an account he gave us of some of 
 
 Byron s sayings and doings, which were just as whimsical and eccentric 
 as unamiable, but very funny. To-morrow we start for Utica : Mr. 
 romes with us : I am glad of it I like him. 
 
 Wednesday, Wth. 
 
 Just as we were getting into the railroad coach for Schenectady, a parcel 
 
 was put into my hand : it was a letter from , and Pellico s " Mie Pri- 
 
 gioni :"I wasglad of it. At Schenectady we dined. By the by, I must 
 not forget to mention the civility we met with from the people who kept 
 the house. There have been so many instances given of the discomfort, 
 and discourteousness which travellers encounter in America, that it i^ 
 but justice to record the reverse when one meets with it. For my own 
 part, with very few exceptions, I have hitherto met with nothing but 
 civility and attention of every description. We have almost always 
 commanded private sitting, and single sleeping, rooms; have had our 
 meals served in tolerable comfort and decency ; and even on board the 
 steam-boats, where every thing is done by shoal, I have found that, in 
 spite of being an inveterate dawdle, and never ready at any of the bell- 
 ringings, I have always had a place reserved for me, and enough to eat 
 without fighting for it. But to return to our Schenectady hosts. The 
 house was very full; and, while waiting for the canal boat, to avoid the 
 
 gaping crowds with which all the rooms were filled, D and I walked 
 
 out into the verandah, when a pretty lassie, the daughter, I conclude, of 
 the house, invited us into a very nice private parlour, belonging to the 
 family, where I found a fine piano, books, music, and all civilisation as well 
 as civility. We proceeded by canal to Utica, which distance we performed 
 in a day and a night, starting at two from Schenectady, and reaching 
 Ulica the next day at about noon. I like travelling by the canal boats 
 very much. Ours was not crowded; and the country through which we 
 passed being delightful, the placid moderate gliding through it, at about 
 four miles and a half an hour, seemed to me infinitely preferable to the 
 noise of wheels, the rumble of a coach, and the jerking of bad roads, for 
 the gain of a mile an hour. The only nuisances are the bridges over the 
 canal, which are so very low, that one is obliged to prostrate one s self on 
 
304 JOURNAL. 
 
 the deck of Hie boat, to avoid being scraped off it; and this humiliation oc 
 curs, upon an average, once every quarter of an hour. Mr. read 
 
 Don Quixote to us : he reads very peculiarly; slowly, and with very 
 marked emphasis. He has a strong feeling of humour, as well as of poetry : 
 in fact, they belong to each other; for humour is but fancy laughing, 
 and poetry but fancy sad. The valley of the Mohawk, through which we 
 crept the whole sunshining clay, is beautiful from beginning to end ; fertile, 
 soft, rich, and occasionally approaching sublimity and grandeur in its rocks 
 and hanging woods. We had a lovely day, and a soft blessed sunset, which, 
 just as we came to a point where the canal crosses the river, and where the 
 curved and wooded shores on either side recede, leaving a broad smooth 
 basin, threw one of the most exquisite effects of light and colour I ever 
 remember to have seen over the water and through the sky. The sun had 
 scarce been down ten minutes from the horizon, when the deck was 
 perfectly wet with the heaviest dew possible, which drove us down to 
 the cabin. Here I fell fast asleep, till awakened by the cabin girl s put 
 ting her arms affectionately round me, and telling me that I might come 
 and have the first choice of a berth for the night, in the horrible lien-coop 
 allotted to the female passengers. I was too sleepy to acknowledge or 
 avail myself of the courtesy; but the girl s manner was singularly gentle 
 and kind. We sat in the men s cabin until they began making prepara 
 tions for bed, and then withdrew into a room about twelve feet square, 
 where a whole tribe of women were getting to their beds. Some half 
 undressed, some brushing, some curling, some washing, some already 
 asleep in their narrow cribs, but all within a quarter of an inch of each 
 other : it made one shudder. As I stood cowering in a corner, half asleep, 
 half crying, the cabin girl came to me again, and entreated me to let her 
 make a bed for me. However, upon my refusing to undress before so 
 much good company, or lie down in such narrow neighbourhood, she 
 
 put D and myself in a small closet, where were four empty berths, 
 
 where I presently fell fast asleep, where she established herself for the 
 
 night, and where D , wrapped up in a shawl, sat till morning under 
 
 the half-open hatchway, breathing damp,starlight. 
 
 Thursday, nth. 
 
 D s exclamations woke me in the morning: the day was breaking 
 
 Brightly, and the dewy earth was beginning to smile in the red dawn, 
 
JOURNAL. 305 
 
 when we approached Little Falls, a place where the placid gentle cha 
 racter of the Mohawk becomes wild and romantic, and beautifully pic 
 turesque. The canal is for some space cut through the solid rock, and 
 the banks, high and bold, were crowned with tangled woods, and gem 
 med with wild flowers, and the delicate vivid tufts of fern. It was exceed 
 ingly beautiful ; and though I believe I missed some part of the scenery 
 immediately surrounding Little Falls, the approach to it, which is of the 
 same nature, enchanted me extremely. When we arrived at Utica, I 
 gave the nice cabin-girl my silver needle-case : her tenderness and care 
 of me the night before made it impossible forme to offer her money. 
 She took my gift, and, throwing her arms round my neck, kissed me 
 very fervently for it. I was struck with her manner, which had appeared 
 to me, in discharge of her common duties, reserved, and rather dignified. 
 This exhibition of feeling surprised me therefore; and together with her 
 dark eyes, hair, and complexion, made me think she must have foreign 
 blood in her veins. I asked her, but she said no : American by birth, 
 English by descent : certainly she had neither the face nor bearing of the 
 one or the other. She was a very singular and striking looking person. 
 
 As for Mr. , he fell in love with her forthwith, and, I think, had 
 
 half a mind to settle on the Mohawk, and make her his fellow farmer. At 
 Utica we dined ; and after dinner I slept profoundly. The gentlemen, 
 I believe, went out to view the town, which twenty years ago was not, 
 and now is a flourishing place, with fine-looking shops, two or three 
 hotels, good broad streets, and a body of lawyers, who had a supper at 
 (he house where we were staying, and kept the night awake with cham 
 pagne, shouting, toasts, and clapping of hands : so much for the strides 
 of civilisation through the savage Ian Is of this new world. The house 
 was full, and we could not get a roam to ourselves; so we sat in a corner 
 of the large dining-room. Passed the evening in writing journal. 
 Mr. showed me his of Sunday last. 
 
 Friday, \2th. 
 
 We all breakfasted early together, and immediately after break 
 fast got into an open carriage and set off for Trenton. D and 
 
 my father sat beside each other, and I opposite them; Mr. on 
 
 i he box; and so we progressed. The day was bright and breezy : 
 the country was all smiling round us in rich beauty; the ripening 
 
 1 3. 
 
306 JOURNAL. 
 
 sheets of waving grain; the sloping fields, with here and there 
 the grey tomb-stone of a forest tree; the vivid thickets bounding 
 the pale harvest plots; the silvery-looking fences, with their irregular 
 lines relieved against the dark woods; the clear sky above; ail was 
 lovely. About seven miles from Utica, we stopped to water the horses 
 at a lonely road-side house : we alighted, and without ceremony 
 strolled into the garden, a mere wilderness of overgrown sweet briar, 
 faint breathing dog-roses, a?id Haunting red poppies, overshadowed by 
 some orchard trees, from which we stole sundry half-ripe cherries. The 
 place was desolate, I believe ; yet we lingered in it, and did not think it 
 so. We got into the carriage again : the remaining eight miles of our 
 journey were as beautiful and as bad as the preceding ones had been, 
 I thought of our dark drive back through these miry and uneven ways. 
 At last we reached the house at which vhiters to the Falls put up ; a 
 large comfortable dwelling enough, kept by a couple of nice young 
 people, who live in this solitude all the year round, and maintain them 
 selves and a beautiful big baby by the profits they derive from the pilgrims 
 to Trenton. We ordered dinner, and set forth to the Falls, with our 
 host for guide. We crossed a small wood immediately adjoining the 
 house, and, descending several flights of steps connected by paths in the 
 rocky bank, we presently stood on the brink of the channel, where the 
 water was boiling along, deep, and black, and passing away like time. 
 We followed along the rocky edge : the path is not more than a foot 
 wide, and is worn into all manner of unevenness and cavities, and slip 
 pery with the eternal falling of the spray. walked before me : we 
 
 dared not turn our heads, for fear of tumbling into the black whirlpool 
 below. We walked on steadily, warning each other at every step, and 
 presently we arrived at the first fall, where the rest of our parly were 
 halting. I can t describe it : I don t know either its height or width ; I 
 only know it was extremely beautiful, and came pouring down like a 
 great rolling heap of amber. The rocks around are high to the heavens, 
 scooped, and singularly regular; and the sides of the torrent are every 
 now and then paved with large smooth layers of rock, as even and re 
 gular in their proportions as if the fairies had done the work. After 
 standing before the tumbling mass of water for a length of time, we climb 
 ed to the brink above, and went on. Mr. flung himself down under 
 a roof of rock by the waterfall. My father, D , and the guide, went 
 
JOURNAL. W7 
 
 on out of sight, and and I loitered by the rapid waters, fling 
 ing light branches and flowers upon the blood-coloured torrent, that 
 whirled, and dragged, and tossed them down to the plunge beneath. 
 When we came to the beautiful circular fall, we crept clown to a 
 narrow ridge, and sat with our feet hanging over the black caldron, 
 just opposite a vivid rainbow that was clasping the waterfall. We 
 sat here till I began to grow dizzy with the sound and motion of 
 the churning darkness beneath us, and begged to move, which 
 we did very cautiously. I was in an agony lest we should slip from 
 the narrow dripping ledges along which we crawled. We wan 
 dered on, and stopped again at another fall, upon a rocky shelf overhang 
 ing the torrent, beside the blasted and prostrate trunk of a large tree. 
 
 I was tired with walking, and was lifting me up to seat me on the 
 
 fallen tree, when we saw Mr. coming slowly towards us. He stop 
 ped and spoke to us, and presently passed on ; we remained behind, talk 
 ing, and dipping our hands into the fresh water. At length we rejoined 
 the whole party, sitting by a narrow channel, where the water looked 
 like ink. Beyond this our guide said it was impossible to go : I was for 
 ascertaining this by myself, but my father forbade me to attempt the 
 passage further. I was thirsty ; and the guide having given me a beau 
 tiful strawberry and a pale blue-bell, that he had found, like a couple of 
 jewels in some dark crevice of the rocks, I devoured the one, and then 
 going down to the black water s edge, we dipped the fairy cup in, and 
 drank the cold clear water, with which abundant draught I relieved my 
 father s thirst also. ( ) Around the place where we were resting, the 
 
 ( ) These beautiful little delicate wild flowers seem to love the dewy neighbour 
 hood of waterfalls : it is only at Trenton, and the Chaudiere in Canada, that I 
 remember to have seen them at all in this country. Some poor Scotch peasants, 
 about to emigrate to Canada, took away with them some roots of the "bonny 
 blooming heather," in hopes of making this beloved adorner of their native 
 mountains the cheerer of their exile in the wild lands to which they were going. 
 The heather, however, refused to grow in the Canadian soil, and the poor 
 emigrants had not the melancholy pleasure of seeing its sweet familiar bloom 
 round their now dwellings. The person who told me this said that the cir 
 cumstance had been related to him by Walter Scott, whose sympathy with the 
 disappointment of these poor children of the romantic heatherland betrayed itself 
 
.108 JOURNAL. 
 
 rocks rose like circular walls up to the very sky. From their overhang 
 ing edges, tiny threads of water fell upon the rocky pavement beneath, 
 with a silver glancing, and a clear plashing tone, that sounded even 
 amid the hoarse talking of the dark waters below. In some mould 
 among these cliffs, at their very highest edge, a tree had struck its roots, 
 and, growing upside down, stretched its drooping green arms to the 
 hurrying stream below, that would not tarry. We had walked, I sup 
 pose, a mile and a half along the water s side, and in this distance its 
 course is broken by six beautiful cataracts. The variety of the colour of 
 the water, occasioned by the various depths of its channel, and the dif 
 ferent lints of the rocks over which it flows, is singular. Where the river 
 expands, its rapid broken waves were of the darkest red-brown, like 
 coffee; or rather, indeed, redder than that, like a deep blood colour : 
 reaching the walls of rock, over which they fall into a lower bed, they 
 became pouring masses of amber and diamonds, or soft thick heaps of 
 whitest foam; and then again, in the deep narrow channels which re 
 ceived their headlong leaping, all was black as blackest night, and the 
 waters were sucked away under the hollow rocks in inky eddies, that 
 nr.ideme think of drowning with double horror. The several falls are 
 very various in their height and forms, but they are all beautiful, most 
 beautiful ; not a place to visit for a day, but to live the summer 
 away in. * 
 
 When we were all rested, we rose to retrace our steps : our guide was 
 a man of some cultivation, and of much natural refinement, with a strong 
 feeling of the exquisite beauty of the scenes in which he was living. 
 
 even in tears. When I visited the beautiful falls of the Cbaudiere, our party was 
 enlivened, and the picturesque effect of the scene much heightened, by some 
 of the Highland hand belonging to the regiment quartered in Quebec. 1 could 
 not help wondering, as I gathered the blue hells, which grew profusely round 
 the cataract, whether these poor fellows looked up n the emblem of their 
 distant country with any of the feelings which I lent them; and the whole 
 brought back to my mind the heather lhat would not gladden the exile s eyes 
 in a foreign soil, an! the compassion of Scott for his countrymen s disappoint 
 ment. 
 
JOURNAL. 309 
 
 These falls are upon his own land, belong to him, and he pointed out 
 to us a spot beside the torrent where, he said, he had read all Byron s 
 works : this pleased me. Returning, I thought the path even more dif 
 ficult than it was before : there is a chain fastened along the rock where 
 it narrows, for the sectirily of persons walking: this has been put up 
 since the lamentable loss of a young girl, who, following her parly along 
 this slippery path, missed her footing, and was swept into a foaming 
 whirlpool, whence nothing conll ever emerge. Onr guide told us of 
 another terrible accident, which happened not long before we were there. 
 A young lady and her lover Avere going along the w 7 ater side, and, in 
 order to retain hold of her hand, he walked upon a narrow ridge, where 
 he could hardly balance himself: the girl said, "Oh, if you walk there, 
 I shall let you go :" she did so, and in the same instant he slipped from 
 the rock and w r as dragged away to that dark death. ( ) 
 
 The chain upon the rock was about as high as my shoulder ; but when 
 the river is swollen, it cons anlly rises above the chain : at which time, 
 it is scarce possible logo any distance along its banks. This had been 
 the case a short time before we were there. We returned to the house, 
 
 and dined. After dinner, had a gossip with Mrs. , and a romp 
 
 with her beautiful baby. I strolled into the garden : it was in disorder, 
 and looked like a wilderness; but I saw some roses drooping their full 
 bosoms to the earth, an 1 1 went to fetch them. Ourhostcame with me : 
 he said he had but little leisure to cultivate his garden, and could not 
 well afford to have it kept in better order; that it supplied them with 
 nearly all they required; and that, with his other occupations, he had 
 
 ( ) I do not know that the sense of danger has ever been so vivid in my 
 mind as while walking along this narrow edge of eternity. Nothing around 
 Niagara appeared to me half so full of peril as the path along the Tien Ion 
 Falls, although I have hung over the brink of the last rock that vibrates on 
 the very verge of that great abyss, and explored, entirely alone, the path 
 under the huge watery curtain that falls from Table Rock. I do not know 
 whether the mention of the late accidents at Trenton affected my imagination, 
 and caused me to exaggerate the danger; but it appeared to me almo-t 
 miraculous that every body passing along those narrow, dripping, uneven 
 ledges did not share the fate of the two unfortunate persons I have men 
 tioned. 
 
310 JOURNAL. 
 
 hardly time to make it more than useful. I questioned him about the 
 number of visiters who came to the falls. He said in summer there was 
 a constant succession of them ; but that in winter no one came there. 
 Upon my expressing some surprise that people did not come, and remain 
 for some weeks at least, in so beautiful a place , he told me that the gene 
 rality of visiters were quite satisfied with an hour s stroll by the water ; 
 and that some had arrived at his door, alighted from their carriage, dined, 
 sauntered round the house, and, without even going down to the river, 
 returned to Utica quite satisfied wilh having been at Trenton. I was 
 amazed. But the utter insensibility of the generality of Americans to 
 the beauty and sublimity of nature is nothing short of amazing ; and in 
 this respect they literally appear to me to want a sense. I have been 
 filled with astonishment and perplexity at the total indifference with which 
 they behold scenes of grandeur and loveliness, that any creature, with 
 half a soul, would gaze at with feelingsalmost of adoration. But in these 
 glorious tabernacles of nature, where God s majesty seems, as it were, 
 visibly resting on his works, I have seen Americans come and stare, and 
 stand for a moment, and departagain, apparently impressed with nothing 
 but the singularity of the man or woman who could remain there longer 
 than they did. What can be the cause of this? Is it possible that a 
 perception of the beautiful in nature is a result of artificial cultivation ? 
 is it that the grovelling narrowness of the usual occupations to which the 
 majority addict themselves has driven out of them the fine spirit, which 
 is God s altar in men s souls? is it that they become incapable ot 
 beauty ? Wretched people ! They remind me, by contrast, as I see them 
 toiling along the crowded streets of their cities, those dens of Mammon, 
 of Wordsworth s noble description of him 
 
 u Who walk d in glory and in joy, 
 
 Ikhind his plough, upon the mountain side. 1 
 
 At about sunset, I wandered into the wood, to the top of the steps leading 
 to the waterfall; where I could hear, far below, its sweet voice singinu 
 as it passed away. I remained standing here till the carriage was 
 announced. Just before we went away, our host gave me a small piece 
 of crystal. It is found among the rocks here, which, I believe, present 
 
JOURNAL. 311 
 
 many curious geological phenomena, which I leave to the learned to 
 describe. The strata are the most beautifully regular possible ; aud, upon 
 their broad smooth surfaces, a thousand theories sit- which I hope I did 
 not disturb, as I walked over them in the plenitude of my ignorance, 
 admiring God s masonry. Oh, fair world ! oh, strange, and beautiful, 
 and holy places where one s soul meets one in silence and where 
 one s thoughts arise, with the everlasting incense of the Waters, from the 
 earth, which is His footstool, to the heavens, which are His throne. It 
 grew dark long before we reached Utica : half the way I sang; the other 
 half I slept, in spite of ruts five fathoms deep, and all the joltings of these 
 evil ways. To-morrow we start on our way to Niagara; which, Mr. 
 says, is to sweep Trenton clean from our memories. T do. not 
 think it. 
 
 Saturday, \3th. 
 
 Left Utica at six o clock, in our exclusive extra : we were to go on as 
 far as Auburn, a distance of seventy-six miles. The day was very 
 beautiful, but extremely hot. At Yernon, where we slopped to break 
 fast, we overtook the s : we had a very good breakfast; and, I think, 
 
 for the first time since our land journey from Baltimore to Philadelphia, 
 last, winter, we were wailed on by women. Found a case of musical 
 glasses : sat on the floor, in great delight, amusing myself with ihem. 
 
 while the stage was getting ready, and I began wandering about; 
 
 but the place did not look promising, and the heat was intense. We sat 
 ourselves down under the piazza of the tavern, and I gave him the words 
 of "To that lone Well." In about an hour we set off again. The country 
 was very rich and beautiful ; and, at every knoll, backed by woodlands, 
 
 and skirted by golden grain fields. Mr. exclaimed, " Come, we 
 
 will have a farm here." He and my father were to smoke, reflect, and 
 enjoy life ; I was to sing, whenever I happened to please, and enjoy life 
 
 too ; D was to brew, to bake, wash, iron, plough, manage the house, 
 
 look after the cattle, take care of the poultry, mind the dairy; in short, 
 do every thing on earth that was to be done, and enjoy life too : all which 
 arrangements afforded us matter of converse on the way, and much 
 
 amusement. Then my father and Mr. had long argumentations 
 
 about acting : the latter is a vehement admirer of Kean; and of course, 
 that being the case, matter of debate was not wanting. It was all ex- 
 
312 JOURNAL 
 
 tremely pleasant and profitable; and while the sun shone, and we all kept 
 our tempers, nothing could do better. amused me by telling me 
 
 portions of "s book, the Adventures of a younger Son, with which 
 
 he had been extremely charmed; and which I remember beginning on 
 board ship, as we crossed from England. 
 
 At about half-past three, we arrived at a place called Syracuse!!! 
 where, slopping to change horses, my father observed that here there 
 were two different routes to our point of destination; and desired our 
 driver to take that which passes through Skaneateles, a very beautiful 
 village, situated on a lake so called. However, to this the master of the 
 inn, who was also, I believe, proprietor of the coach, seemed to have 
 some private objection; and w r hile my father was yet speaking, very coolly 
 shut the coach door in his face, and desired the driver to go on in the 
 contrary direction. The insolence of the fellow enraged my father ex 
 tremely ; and it was rather astonishing, that s the fact : but the deuce is 
 in l if, in a free country, a man may not choose which way his own coach 
 shall go, in spite of the folk who pay him for the use of it. We had to 
 pocket the affront; and, what was much more disagreeable, to travel an 
 ugly uninteresting road, instead of a picturesque and pretty one. We 
 had nol proceeded many miles after this occurrence, and were just reco 
 vering our equanimities, when the said vehicle broke down. We wer6 
 not overturned or hurt, only tilted a little on one side. The driver, 
 however, did not seem to think it safe to proceed in this condition : the 
 gentlemen got out, and searched the hedges and thickets for a piece of 
 oak sufficiently strong and stout to repair, at least for the moment, the 
 damage : we were nol at the time within reach of any house. At last, 
 they procured what they wanted;, and, having propped up the carriage 
 after the best fashion they could, we proceeded at a foot pace to the next 
 village. Here, while they were putting our conveyance into something 
 like better order, and I wandered away to a pretty bright water 
 course, which, like all water in this country, was made to turn a mill 
 The coach being made sound once more, we packed ourselves into it, and 
 progressed. The evening was perfectly sultry. I never shall forget, at 
 a place where we stopped to water the horses, a cart-full of wretched 
 sheep and calves, who were, I suppose, on their way to the slaughter- 
 
JOURNAL. 313 
 
 house, but who, in the mean lime, seemed enduring the most horrible 
 torture that creatures can suffer. They were jammed into the cart so as 
 to be utterly incapable of moving a single limb; the pitiless sun shone 
 fiercely upon their wretched heads, and their poor eyes were full of dust 
 and flies. I never saw so miserable a spectacle of suffering. I looked 
 at the brutal-looking man that was driving them, and wondered whether 
 he would go to hell, for tormenting these helpless beasts in this fashion. 
 
 The sun set gloriously. Mr. began talking about Greece, and, 
 
 getting a good deal excited, presently burst forth into " The isles of 
 Greece ! the isles of Greece ! " which he recited with amazing vehe 
 mence and earnestness. He reminded me of Kean several times : while, 
 he was declaiming, he looked like a tiger. T is strange, or, rather, t is 
 not strange, tis but natural, how, in spite of the contempt and even hatred 
 which he often expresses for England, and every thing connected with it, his 
 thoughts and plans, and all the energies of his mind, seem for ever bent 
 upon changes to be wrought in England freer government, purer laws, 
 more equal rights. He began to talk about Cromwell : he wanted, he 
 said, to have a play written out of Cromwell s life. We talked the 
 matter over with infinite zeal, and established most satisfactorily, that 
 to accomplish such a thing, as it ought to be done, would he quite one 
 of the most difficult tasks in the world. Nobody but a religious and 
 political enthusiast could do it : a poet, unless himself a republican 
 Englishman, and fanatical sectarian, hardly could : it must be unlike all 
 other works of art not an imitation of truth, but truth it-elf. Schiller 
 is the only man I can imagine who could have attempled it with any 
 chance of success : and I even doubt whether he would have made of 
 it the firebrand our friend wants. ( J ) Towards evening the heal became 
 
 () Thank God ! a firebrand, which shall throw all England into confusion and 
 anarchy, is not, indeed, of easy make. Italy, crushed under the heel of her 
 northern rulers ; or France, blown about with every breath of opinion, may 
 rush into revolutions for a ballad or an opera. The misery of the one, and 
 the miserable excitability of the other nation, render it easy to rouse, in the 
 former, the spirit of retribution; in the latter, the desire of change. But Eng 
 lishmen, who are neither slaves nor weathercocks, are less easily stirred to 
 wild excesses of political excitement. Let who will steer, the old ship is too 
 well ballasted to sink. Whoever rules, whatever party may be at the head of 
 
314 JOURNAL. 
 
 more and more oppressive. Our coacli was but ill cobbled, and 
 leaned awfully to one side. I fell asleep lying in my father s lap ; and 
 when we reached Auburn, which was not until nine o clock, I was so 
 tired, so miserably sleepy, and so tortured with the side-ach, from the 
 cramped position in which I had been lying, that I just crawled into 
 the first room in the inn where we alighted, and dropped down on the 
 floor fast asleep. They roused me for supper ; and very soon after I 
 betook myself to bed. The heat was intolerable ; the pale feet of the 
 summer lightning ran along the black edges of the leaden clouds, the 
 world was alight with it. I could not sleep : I never endured such 
 suffocating heat. 
 
 Sunday, \4tJt. 
 
 Rose at eight : the morning was already sultry as the hottest noon in 
 England. After breakfast, I wandered about the house in search of 
 shade; went into an empty room, opened the shutters, and got out 
 upon a large piazza, or rather colonnade, which surrounded it. The 
 side I had chosen was defended by the house from the fierce sunlight ; 
 and I walked up and down in quiet and loneliness for some time. Not 
 far from the house s ood the prison, one of the state prisons of the 
 country ; a large grey building, which appeared like a huge block of 
 granite, unsheltered by a s n;:le tree or bush, and dim with the hazy 
 heal of the atmosphere. Being Sunday, we were not able to visit it; 
 but the person who kept the house where we were, a very intelligent 
 and civil man, gave us some account of it, and fully corroborated the 
 
 her government, England is sound at heart : there is a broad foundation of moral 
 good and intelligence in the nation, which will not be shaken or upturned, let 
 factions erect or pull down what temporary trophies they please, to their own 
 short-lived and selfish triumphs. The file of the mechanic may still gnaw angrily 
 at the iron crown of the aristocracy ; interests of classes may still jar, parties 
 wrangle, and the eternal warfare between those who climb, and those who stand 
 upon the topmost round of the ladder, may still be waged. And so be it : iu 
 none of these is there fear or danger ; but rather a wholesome action of power 
 against power ; a checking, winnowing, purifying, and preserving influence. 
 Moral evil, vice and mental evil, ignorance are the roots of decay : surely 
 England is far from the day of her downfalling 
 
JOURNAL. 315 
 
 facl which Stuart mentions, that when the prison took fire, and all 
 the criminals confined in it were liberated to assist in saving the build 
 ing, in spite of the general confusion and total absence of restraint or 
 observation, which for some time left them the most easy opportunity 
 of escape, not one of them took advanlage of this accident to recover 
 their liberty, but every prisoner returned voluntarily, after the fire was 
 got under, to his cell. This seems miraculous, and speaks more for the 
 excellence of the system pursued in these establishments than all the 
 disquisitions in the world. At about ten, our exclusive extra having 
 driven to the door, we packed ourselves into it, and proceeded towards 
 Geneva, where we were to dine. The sky, however, presently became 
 overcast ; and, towards noon, the world was absolutely shrouded in a 
 lead-coloured pall. The air was stifling : it was impossible to draw 
 one s breath; and a quarter of a degree more of heat would certainly 
 have occasioned suffocation. We were all gasping. Suddenly the red 
 lightning tore open the heavy clouds, the thunder rolled round the 
 heavens, the rain came down in torrents : we were away from all shel 
 ter, and obliged to proceed through the storm. The leather curtains of 
 our coach were speedily unrolled and buttoned down; but this formed 
 but a miserable shelter against the furious rain. Our carpet bags, which 
 were on the outside of the carnage, were soaked through; and we our 
 selves were soon in nearly as bad a plight. The rain came in rivulets 
 through the crevices of our insufficient shelter, and the seals and bottom 
 Qf the coach were presently standing pools. We arrived between twelve 
 and one o clock at Cayuga; and here we drew up before the inn door, 
 to await the end of the storm. The rain was still so violent, that we 
 preferred remaining in the coach to getting out and being still more 
 thoroughly drenched. The thunder growled sulkily at a distance, and 
 the lightning glared rapidly from side to side. By degrees, the over- 
 swollen clouds, having emptied themselves, rolled away ; the rain be 
 came less violent; the mist and heavy vapour parted from off the face of 
 the earth, and the lake appeared blending with the sky amid the indis 
 tinct and hazy outlines of the half-shrouded country. While we were 
 sitting listening to the storm, silence had fallen upon us all : a thunder 
 storm is apt to prove an interruption to conversation. During this 
 
 pause, Mr. look out his pencil, and wrote upon a scrap of paper a 
 
 very eloquent Mahomedan description of the attributes of God. I do 
 
316 JOURNAL. 
 
 not know whether it was his own, or an authentic Mahomedan docu 
 ment : it was sublime. * * * * 
 
 The storm having abated, we proceeded on our way; crossed a bridge 
 a mile and some roods long, over the Gayuga lake; which, however, 
 was still so veiled with scowling mist and clouds, that we could discern 
 none of its features. At about three o clock we reached Geneva, a 
 small town situated on a lake called Seneca Water. Here we dined. 
 
 had most providentially brought silver forks with him : for the 
 
 wretched two-pronged iron implements furnished us by our host were 
 any thing but clean or convenient. After dinner, the weather having 
 become mild and bright, we went up to a piazza on the second floor, 
 which overlooked the lake and its banks : the latter are very pictu 
 resque ; and the town itself, climbing in terraces along the side of a steep 
 acclivity, rising from the water, has a very good effect. The lake at 
 this point did not appear very wide; for we could distinguish, from where 
 we stood, minute objects on the opposite shore. 
 
 After resting ourselves for a short time, we again took to our coach, 
 and pursued our route towards Canandaigua, where we were to pass 
 the night. The afternoon was bright and beautiful, the road tolerable, 
 and the country through which we passed fertile and smiling. 
 
 As the evening began to come on, we reached Canandaigua Lake, a 
 very beautiful sheet of water, of considerable extent; we coasted for 
 some time close along its very margin. The opposite shore was high, 
 clothed with wood, from amidst which here and there a white house 
 looked peacefully down on the clear mirror below : the dead themselves 
 can hardly inhabit regions more blessedly apart from the evil tur 
 moil of the world, than the inhabitants of these beautiful solitudes. ( ) 
 
 ( r ) I have had occasion to observe, in a former note, that foreigners travelling 
 through this country see only the least desirable society of the various cities they 
 visit. There is another class of Americans, whom they rarely, if ever, become 
 acquainted with at all ; by far the most interesting, in my opinion, which the 
 country affords. I speak of those families thickly scattered through all the states, 
 from whose original settlers many of them are immediately descended; who re 
 side upon lands purchased by their grandfathers in the early days of the British 
 
JOURNAL. 317 
 
 Leaving the water s edge, we proceeded about a quarter of a mile, and 
 found ourselves at the door of the inn at Canandaigua, the principal 
 among some houses surrounding an open turfed space, like an English 
 
 village green, across which ran the high road. My father, Mr. , 
 
 and I went up to a sort of observatory at the top of the house, from 
 whence the view was perfectly enchanting. The green below, screened 
 on three sides with remarkably fine poplar trees, and surrounded by neat 
 white houses, reminded me of some retired spot in my own dear country. 
 
 colonies ; and who, living remote from the Atlantic cities, and the more travelled 
 routes between them, are free from all the peculiarities which displease a Eu 
 ropean in the societies of the towns, and possess traits of originality in their 
 manners, minds, and mode of life, infinitely refreshing to the observer, wearied 
 of the eternal sameness which pervades the human congregations of the Old 
 World. 
 
 In mixing with the commercial fashionables and exclusives of the American 
 cities, the European is at once amused and annoyed with the assumption of a 
 social tone and spirit at variance with the whole make of the country. He is 
 told that he is in the best society of the place, and with perfect justice condemns 
 this best society as, probably, the worst he ever saw : a society assuming the airs 
 of separate rank where no rank at all exists, attempting to copy the luxury and 
 splendour of the residents of European capitals, without possessing one tithe of 
 their wealth to excuse the extravagance, or enable them to succeed in the endea 
 vour, and presenting the most incongruous and displeasing mixture possible 
 of pretension, ignorance, affectation, and vulgarity. I have before said, that 
 even in the cities there are circles of a very different order; but yet freer from 
 all these drawbacks is the society formed by the class of people of whom I have 
 spoken above, and whom I should designate as the gentry of this country ; using 
 that term in the best sense in which it was once used in England. 
 
 Among this large but widely-scattered portion of the community, should the 
 European traveller s good fortune lead him, he will find hospitality without os- 
 tenlation, purity of morals independent of the dread of opinion, intellectual cul 
 tivation unmixed with the desire of display, great simplicity of life and ignorance 
 of the world, originality of mind naturally arising from independence and solitude, 
 and the best, because the most natural, manners. Of Mich, I know, from the 
 lower shores of the Chesapeake, to the half savage territory around Michilima* 
 kinack. 
 
318 JOURNAL. 
 
 Opposite us, the land rose with a gentle wooded swell ; and to the left, 
 the Me spread itself to meet the horizon. A fresh breeze blew over 
 the earth, most grateful after the intense heat of the morning, and the 
 sky was all strewed with faint rosy clouds, melting away one by one 
 into violet wreaths, among which the early evening star glittered cold 
 and clear. 
 
 We came down to supper, which was served to us, as usual, in a larg^ 
 desolate-looking public room. After this, we came to the sitting-room 
 they had provided for us, a small comfortable apartment, with a very 
 finely-toned piano in it. To this I forthwith sat down, and played and 
 sang fora length of time : late in the evening, I left the instrument, and 
 
 my father, Mr. , and I took a delightful stroll under the colonnade, 
 
 discussing Milton; many passages of which my father recited most 
 beautifully, to my infinite delight and ecstasy. By and by they went in, 
 and came out to walk with me. 
 
 Certainly this climate is the most treacherous imaginable : the heat 
 this morning had been intolerable, and to-night a piercing cold wind 
 had arisen, that would have rendered winter clothing by no means sn - 
 perfluous. We walked rapidly up and down, till the bleak blast became 
 so keen, that we were glad to take refuge in the house. Our unfortunate 
 carpet bags and their contents are literally drenched : many of my goods 
 and chattels will never recover this ablution; among others, I am sorry 
 to say, s beautiful satchel. 
 
 Monday, ISJ/J. 
 
 Our breakfast, which was extremely comfortable and clean, was serv 
 ed to us in our private room; a singular favour : one, I hope, which will 
 become a custom as the country is travelled through by greater num 
 bers. Before breakfast, D had been taking a walk about the pretty 
 
 village, and trying to beg, borrow, or steal some flowers for me. The 
 master of the inn, however, succeeded better than she did ; for he pre 
 sently made his appearance with a very beautiful and fragrant nosegay, 
 which I found, to my utter dismay, had been levied from a gentleman s 
 private garden in my name. My horror was excessive at this, and was 
 scarcely diminished when I discovered, upon enquiry, that they had 
 
 been gathered from Mr. s garden; that gentleman having large 
 
 property and a fine residence here. He was not in Canandaigua him- 
 
JOURNAL. 319 
 
 self; but, as we drove past his house, I left cards for his lady, who must 
 have thought my demand on her green-house one of the greatest imper- 
 tinencies extant. It was nine o clock when we left Canandaigtia : we 
 were all a little done up with our two previous days; and it was unani 
 mously settled that w r e should proceed only to Rochester, a distance of 
 hetween thirty and foriy miles, which we accomplished by two o clock. 
 
 Rochester, upon whose site, I understand, twenty years ago there stood 
 hardly a house, is now a large and populous manufacturing town. The 
 progress of life in this country is amazing. From day to day the wilderness 
 becomes inhabited, peopled, civilised; and where yesterday the majestic 
 woods were standing, and the silent waters gliding in all the solemn soli 
 tude of unexplored nature, to-day the sound of the forge and anvil is 
 heard, the busy feet of men pass and repass, their mingled voices re 
 sound, their dwellings arise; the wheels of a thousand mechanical mira 
 cles clash, creak, and jar; the vapours of a thousand steam-engines 
 mingle with the hitherto lonely clouds; and the huge fins of a thousand 
 steam-boats beat the waters, carrying over their hitherto undisturbed 
 surface the vast produce of industry. The labours, the arts, the know 
 ledge, the wealth, the wonders of education and civilisation! It is 
 something that fills one with admiration, in the old, and eke the new, 
 sense of the word. 
 
 The inn at which W T C alighted was large and comfortable : in the 
 drawing-room I found a very tolerable piano-forte, to which I instantly 
 betook myself. By the lime we had seen our bed-rooms, and ordered 
 dinner, we found we should have leisure, before it was ready, to walk to 
 the falls of the Genesee (the river on which Rochester stands), which 
 have some celebrity for their beauty. A man from the hotel volun 
 teered to be our guide, and joined our party. We walked up the main 
 street, which w r as crowded and full of business. From this, presently 
 turning off, we followed a wider road, with houses and pretty flower 
 gardens on each side, and reached, after half a mile s walk, a meadow 
 skirted by a deep ravine, through which the river ran ; from whence we 
 looked immediately upon the falls. They w r ould be, and were, I doubt 
 not, once beautiful ; for the barrier of rock, over which the river throws 
 itself into the valley below, is of considerable breadth and height; but, 
 alas! the waters have been turned off to turn mills, and a thin curtain, 
 which falls over the rocks like a vapoury sheet of blue smoke, is all that 
 
320 JOURNAL. 
 
 remains of the Genesee falls ; whilst, from a thousand dingy-looking 
 mills and manufactories, the poor little rivulets of labouring water come 
 rushing through narrow dirty channels, all stained and foaming and hot 
 from their work, to throw themselves into the thin bosom of their parent 
 stream. Truly, mills and steam-engines are wonderful things, and I 
 know that men must live ; but I wish it were not expedient to destroy 
 what God has made so very beautiful, in order to make it useful. Our 
 guide perceiving our admiration was a good deal excited by the pictu 
 resque beauty of the scene, fell into a species of rhapsody, which termi 
 nated thus : " Yes, sir, when I see the waters thus falling from the bottom 
 to the top ; I say, sir, when I look at the water falling from the bottom to 
 the top, I can compare it to nothing but but but wool out of a cotton- 
 mill ! " This was an unlooked-for climax, and gave us all a violent in 
 clination to laugh in the face of the orator; which, however, would have 
 been exceedingly wrong ; for so sincere was the good man in his enthu 
 siasm, that he was not in the least aware of the miraculous proceeding 
 which he twice, with much emphasis, ascribed to the upward falling 
 
 water. (*) 
 
 * + * * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 We waited in this meadow for the passing of a train of rail-road car 
 riages, which run between Rochester and a small village about three 
 miles distant, where the river was said to be very beautiful. We hailed 
 them as they went by, and proceeded in them to their destination. The 
 view itself, from this point, though romantic and pretty, was scarce 
 worth going out of the way for; the walk back, however, was delightful. 
 The river runs here through a deep gully, the banks rising precipitously 
 above a hundred feet on each side of it. On one side they are beauti 
 fully and thickly wooded ; the other presents a bare wall of reddish rock 
 
 (*) This spot is famous as the scene of the last exploit of a singular individual, 
 known by the name of Sam Patch. An Irishman by birth, I believe, he came 
 over to this country to earn his bread, and hit upon a very ingenious method of 
 doing so, i. e. jumping for large wagers down cataracts; which daring feat he 
 performed successfully more than once. But, like the Sicilian diver of old, poor 
 Sam Patch took one plunge too many; and, after leaping with impunity from the 
 rocks immediately below the Falls of Niagara, he found his death in the Genesee 
 attempting the leap, it is said, while in a state of intoxication. 
 
JOURNAL. 321 
 
 lying in very regular strata. About a mile and a half below tbe falls, 
 the channel of the river contracts itself, and the water, forcing its way 
 through some irregular rocky projections, forms a very pretty miniature 
 cataract. We walked along the high margin of the glen, upon some 
 very thick soft turf, looking down upon the deep bed of .he water, and 
 enjoying a delicious fresh breeze. T is curious enough, that upon this 
 strip of turf, close to the high road, under the shelter of a group of trees, 
 we found a couple of tomb-stones. They were carefully railed round, 
 and bore the names of a man and his wife, without, however, assigning 
 any cause for their choice of a burial-place so public and unhallowed. 
 The last mile of our walk was by no means so agreeable as the previous 
 part had been. Nearing the town, we had to leave the brink of the river 
 and follow the dusty track of the rail-road. When we reached Roches 
 ter, we dined; after which I went and lay down, and slept till tea-time. 
 When I came down to (ea, found the gentlemen profoundly busied: 
 
 writing home, Mr. journalising, my father poring over maps 
 
 and road-books, to find out if we could not possibly get as far as Niagara 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Tuesday, \6tli. 
 
 Had to get up before I d half done my sleep. At six, started from 
 Rochester for Murray, where we purposed breakfasting. Just as we were 
 nearing the inn, at this same place, our driver took it into his head to 
 give us a taste of his quality. We were all earnestly engaged in a dis 
 cussion, when suddenly I felt a tremendous sort of stunning blow, and as 
 soon as I opened my eyes, found that the coach was overturned, lying 
 completely on its side.j I was very comfortably curled up under my 
 
 father, who, by Heaven s mercy, did not suffocate me; opposite sat D , 
 
 as white as a ghost, with her forehead cut open, and an awful-looking 
 
 stream of blood falling from it ; by her stood Mr. , also as pale as 
 
 ashes : was perched like a bird above us all, on the edge of the door 
 way, which was open. The first thing I did, was to cry as loud as ever 
 I could, "I m not hurt, I m not hurt! " which assurance I shouted suffi 
 ciently lustily to remove all anxiety from their minds. The next thing 
 was to get my father up ; in accomplishing which, he trampled upon me 
 most cruelly. A s soon as I was relieved from his mountainous pressure, 
 I got up, and saw, to my dismay, two men carrying Mr. into the 
 
322 JOURNAL. 
 
 house. We were all convinced that some of his limbs were broken : I 
 ran after as quickly as I could, and presently the house was like an hos 
 pital. They carried him into an upper room, and laid him on a bed; 
 here, too, they brought D , all white and bleeding. Our hand-bas 
 kets and bags were ransacked for salts and eau de Cologne. Cold water, 
 hot water, towels, and pocket handkerchiefs, were called into requisition ; 
 and I, with my clothes all torn, and one shoulder all bruised and cut, 
 went from the one to the other in utter dismay. Presently, to my great 
 
 relief, Mr. revived ; and gave ample testimony of having the use of 
 
 his limbs, by getting up, and, in the most skilful manner, plastering poor 
 
 D s broken brow up. went in quest of my father, who had 
 
 received a violent blow 7 on his leg, and was halting about, looking after 
 the baggage and the driver, who had escaped unhurt. (0 The chief 
 cause of our misfortune was the economy with which the stage-coaches 
 are constructed in this thrifty land ; that is, they have but one door, and, 
 of course, are obliged to be turned round much oftener than if they had 
 two : in wheeling us, therefore, rapidly up to the inn, and turning the 
 coach with the side that had a door towards the house, we swung over, 
 and fell. While the coach was being repaired, and the horses changed, 
 we, bound up, bruised, and aching, but still very merry, sat down to 
 
 breakfast. Mr. , who had been merely stunned, seized on the milk 
 
 and honey, and stuffed away with great zeal : poor D was the most 
 
 deplorable of the party, with a bloody handkerchief bound over one half 
 
 her face ; I only ached a little, and I believe escaped with a scratch 
 
 on his finger; so, seeing it was no worse, we thanked God, and devour 
 ed. After breakfast, we packed ourselves again in our vehicle, and 
 
 progressed. Mr. had procured for me a bunch of flowers; and I 
 
 amused myself with making a wreath of them. Our route lay over 
 
 (i) Although nobody, I believe, ever travelled a hundred miles by land in this 
 country without being overturned, the drivers deserve infinite credit for the rare 
 occurrence of accidents. How they can carry a coach at all over some of their 
 roads is miraculous ; and high praise is due to them both for care and skill, that 
 any body, in any part of this country, ever arrives at the end of a land journey 
 at all. I do not ever remember to have seen six-in-hand driving except in New 
 England, where it is common, and where the stage-drivers are great adepts in their 
 mystery. 
 
JOURNAL. 325 
 
 what is called the Ridge road j a very remarkable tract, pursuing a high 
 embankment, which was once the boundary of Lake Ontario ; though 
 the waters are now distant from it upwards of seven miles. The theories 
 of the geologists respecting the former position of the lake are very sin 
 gular; though borne out by similar instances of natural convulsions, and also 
 by the very features of the land. The country through which we journey 
 ed to-day was wilder and less cultivated than any we have yet seen. A great 
 deal of forest land, consisting of close, thin, tall, second-growth, springing 
 around the stump of many a huge tree ; thick tangled underwood ; marsh 
 and damp green wilderness, where the grass and bushes trailed about in 
 rank luxuriance ; and piles of felled timber, with here and there a root 
 yet smoking, bore witness to the first inroads of human cultivation. None 
 of the trees that were standing were of any girth, or comparable in size 
 and beauty to our park trees ; but some of the stumps were of large size, 
 and must have been the foundations of noble forest pillars. Our road, 
 after leaving the Ridge road, was horrible : for some length of time be 
 fore we reached Lockport, we were dragged over what is called a cordu 
 roy road; which consists merely of logs of wood laid close to each other, 
 the natural inequalities of which produce a species of jolting incompara 
 bly superior to any other I ever felt, and administering but little comfort 
 either to our bruised bones or apprehensive nerves. 
 
 We reached Lockport at about four o clock. There had been rain in 
 the course of the morning, but the evening was clear, though very cold. 
 The appearance of Lockport is very singular : a collection of new white 
 houses, that look as though they were but this instant finished, standing 
 in a half-cleared wilderness. All round the town, if such it may be 
 called, stretch the remains of the once pathless woods, half cleared, half 
 savage-looking yet; and, as far as the eye can reach, the country presents 
 a series of dreary slopes, covered with prostrate trees, heaps of hewn 
 timber, smoking stumps, and blackened trunks a sort of forest stubble- 
 land a very desolate- looking thing indeed. The house where we 
 stopped appeared to be hardly finished. We ordered dinner, and I 
 forthwith began kindling a fire, which was extremely welcome to us all. 
 I was very much bruised with our morning s overturn, and went and lay 
 down in my bed-room, where I presently slept profoundly. 
 
324 JOURNAL. 
 
 Wednesday, \7tli. 
 
 At nine o clock, we started from Lockport : before doing so, however, 
 we went down to the canal side to look at the works, which are here 
 
 very curious and interesting 1 . ran into a bookseller s shop, and 
 
 got s book for me, which he was going to pounce upon without 
 
 knowing what it was; and , for some reasons best known to himself, 
 
 snatched it away from him, saying it was a book which he was sure he 
 would not like. The road between Lockport and Lewistown is very 
 pretty; arid we got out and walked whenever the horses were changed. 
 At one place where we stopped, I saw a meek-eyed, yellowish-white 
 cart-horse, standing with a man s saddle on his back. The opportunity 
 was irresistible, and the desire too I had not backed a horse for so long. 
 So I got up upon the amazed quadruped, woman s fashion, and took a 
 gallop through the fields, with infinite risk of falling off, and proportion 
 ate salisfaction. We reached Lewistown at about noon, and anxious 
 enquiries were instituted as to how our luggage was to be forwarded, 
 when on the other side; for we were exclusive extras; and for creatures 
 so above common fellowship there is no accommodation in this levelling 
 land. A ferry and a ferry-boat, however, it appeared, there were, and 
 thither we made our way. While we were waiting for the boat, I 
 climbed out on the branches of a huge oak, which grew over the banks 
 of the river, which here rise nearly a hundred feet high. Thus com 
 fortably perched, like a bird, twixt heaven and earth, I copied off some 
 verses which I had scrawled j ust before leaving Lockport. The ferry-boat 
 being at length procured, we got into it. The day was sultry ; the heat 
 intolerable. 
 
 The water of this said river Niagara is of a most peculiar colour, like 
 a turquoise when it turns green. It was like a thick stream of verdigris, 
 full of pale milky streaks, whirls, eddies, and counter-currents, and 
 looked as if it were running up by one bank, and down by the other. 
 I sat in the sun, on the floor of the boat, revising my verses. 
 
 Arrived on the other side, i. e. Canada, there was a second pause, as 
 
 to- how we were to get conveyed to the Falls. My father, , and 
 
 betook themselves to an inn by the road -side, which promised 
 
JOURNAL. 325 
 
 information and assistance; and and I, clambering up the heights 
 
 of Qneenston, sat ourselves down under some bushes, whence we looked 
 towards Lake Ontario, and where he told me the history of the place ; 
 how his countrymen had thumped my countrymen upon this spot, and 
 how the English general Brock had fallen near where we sat. A monu 
 ment, in the shape of a stone pillar, has been erected to his memory; 
 and to the top of this - betook himself to reconnoitre; which am 
 bitious expedition I foil no inclination to share. After he had been gone 
 some time, I thought I perceived signs of slirring down by the inn door : 
 I toiled up the hill to the base of the pillar to fetch him, and we proceeded 
 down to the rest of the party. An uneasy-looking rickety cart without 
 springs was the sole conveyance we could obtain, and into this we packed 
 ourselves. brought me some beautiful roses, which he had been 
 
 stealing for me, and gave me a glass of milk ; with which restoratives 
 
 I comforted myself, and we set forth. As we squeaked and creaked 
 
 ( I mean our vehicle ) up the hill, I thought either my father s or s 
 
 weight quite enough to have broken the whole down ; but it did not 
 happen. My mind was eagerly dwelling on what we were going to see : 
 
 that sight which said was the only one in the world which had 
 
 not disappointed him. I felt absolutely nervous with expectation. The 
 sound of the cataract is, they say, heard within fifteen miles when the 
 wind sets favourably : to-day, however, there was no wind; the whole 
 air was breathless with the heat of midsummer, and, though we stopped 
 our waggon once or twice to listen as we approached, all was profoundest 
 silence. There was no motion in the leaves of the trees, not a cloud 
 sailing in the sky; every thing was as though in a bright warm death. 
 When we were within about three miles of the Falls, just before enter 
 ing the village of Niagara, stopped the waggon ; and then we heard 
 
 distinctly, though far off, the voice of the mighty cataract. Looking 
 over the woods, which appeared to overhang the course of the river, we 
 beheld one silver cloud rising slowly into the sky, the everlasting 
 incense of the waters. A perfect frenzy of impatience seized upon me : 
 I could have set off and run the whole way; and when at length the 
 carriage stopped at the door of the Niagara house, waiting neither for 
 
 my father, D , nor , I rushed through the hall, and the garden, 
 
 down the steep footpath cut in the rocks. I heard steps behind me; 
 - was following me : down, down I sprang, arid along the narrow 
 
326 JOURNAL 
 
 footpath, divided only by a thicket from trie tumultuous rapids. I saw 
 
 through the boughs the white glimmer of that sea of foam. " Go on, 
 
 goon; don t stop, " shouted ; and in another minute the thicket 
 
 was passed : I stood upon Table Rock. seized me by the arm, 
 and, without speaking a word, dragged me to the edge of the rapids, to 
 the brink of the abyss. I saw Niagara. Oh, God ! who can describe 
 that sight ? 
 
 THE END. 
 
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