THE FAR WEST: TO NIAGARA FALLS.
1842.
Descriptions in Letters and in _Notes_--Outline
of Westward Travel--An Arabian Night City--A
Temperance Festival--A Party at Judge
Walker's--The Party from another View--Mournful
Results of Boredom--Young Lady's Description of
C. D.--Down the Mississippi--Listening and
Watching--A Levee at St.
Louis--Compliments--Lord Ashburton's
Arrival--Talk with a Judge on Slavery--A Negro
burnt alive--Feeling of Slaves
themselves--American Testimony--Pretty Little
Scene--A Mother and her Husband--The Baby--St.
Louis in Sight--Meeting of Wife and
Husband--Trip to a Prairie--On the Prairie at
Sunset--General Character of Scenery--The
Prairie described--Disappointment and
Enjoyment--Soiree at Planter's House Inn--Good
Fare--No Gray Heads in St. Louis--Dueling--Mrs.
Dickens as a Traveler--From Cincinnati to
Columbus--What a Levee is like--From Columbus
to Sandusky--The Travelers alone--A Log House
Inn--Making tidy--A Momentary Crisis--Americans
not a Humorous People--The Only
Recreations--From Sandusky to Buffalo--On Lake
Erie--Reception and Consolation of a
Mayor--From Buffalo to Niagara--Nearing the
Falls--The Horse-shoe--Effect upon him of
Niagara--The Old Recollection--Looking forward.
THE next letter described his experiences in the Far West, his stay in
St. Louis, his visit to a prairie, the return to Cincinnati, and, after
a stage-coach ride from that city to Columbus, the travel thence to
Sandusky, and so, by Lake Erie, to the Falls of Niagara. All these
subjects appear in the _Notes_, but nothing printed there is repeated
in the extracts now to be given. Of the closing passages of his journey,
when he turned from Columbus in the direction of home, the story, here
for the first time told, is in his most characteristic vein; the account
that will be found of the prairie will probably be preferred to what is
given in the _Notes_; the Cincinnati sketches are very pleasant; and
even such a description as that of the Niagara Falls, of which so much
is made in the book, has here an independent novelty and freshness. The
first vividness is in his letter. The naturalness of associating no
image or sense but of repose, with a grandeur so mighty and resistless,
is best presented suddenly; and, in a few words, we have the material as
well as moral beauty of a scene unrivaled in its kind upon the earth.
The instant impression we find to be worth more than the eloquent
recollection.
The captain of the boat that had dropped them at Cincinnati and gone to
St. Louis had stayed in the latter place until they were able to join
and return with him; this letter bears date accordingly, "On board the
Messenger again. Going from St. Louis back to Cincinnati. Friday,
fifteenth April, 1842;" and its first paragraph is an outline of the
movements which it afterwards describes in detail. "We remained in
Cincinnati one whole day after the date of my last, and left on
Wednesday morning, the 6th. We reached Louisville soon after midnight on
the same night; and slept there. Next day at one o'clock we put
ourselves on board another steamer, and traveled on until Sunday
evening, the tenth; when we reached St. Louis at about nine o'clock. The
next day we devoted to seeing the city. Next day, Tuesday, the twelfth,
I started off with a party of men (we were fourteen in all) to see a
prairie; returned to St. Louis about noon on the thirteenth; attended a
soiree and ball--not a dinner--given in my honor that night; and
yesterday afternoon at four o'clock we turned our faces homewards. Thank
Heaven!
"Cincinnati is only fifty years old, but is a very beautiful city; I
think the prettiest place I have seen here, except Boston. It has risen
out of the forest like an Arabian-Night city; is well laid out;
ornamented in the suburbs with pretty villas; and above all, for this is
a very rare feature in America, has smooth turf-plots and well-kept
gardens. There happened to be a great temperance festival; and the
procession mustered under, and passed, our windows early in the morning.
I suppose they were twenty thousand strong, at least. Some of the
banners were quaint and odd enough. The ship-carpenters, for instance,
displayed on one side of their flag the good Ship Temperance in full
sail; on the other, the Steamer Alcohol blowing up sky-high. The
Irishmen had a portrait of Father Mathew, you may be sure. And
Washington's broad lower jaw (by-the-by, Washington had not a pleasant
face) figured in all parts of the ranks. In a kind of square at one
outskirt of the city they divided into bodies, and were addressed by
different speakers. Drier speaking I never heard. I own that I felt
quite uncomfortable to think they could take the taste of it out of
their mouths with nothing better than water.
"In the evening we went to a party at Judge Walker's, and were
introduced to at least one hundred and fifty first-rate bores,
separately and singly. I was required to sit down by the greater part of
them, and talk![59] In the night we were serenaded (as we usually are
in every place we come to), and very well serenaded, I assure you. But
we were very much knocked up. I really think my face has acquired a
fixed expression of sadness from the constant and unmitigated boring I
endure. The LL's have carried away all my cheerfulness. There is a line
in my chin (on the right side of the under lip), indelibly fixed there
by the New Englander I told you of in my last. I have the print of a
crow's foot on the outside of my left eye, which I attribute to the
literary characters of small towns. A dimple has vanished from my cheek,
which I felt myself robbed of at the time by a wise legislator. But on
the other hand I am really indebted for a good broad grin to P. . E. . ,
literary critic of Philadelphia, and sole proprietor of the English
language in its grammatical and idiomatical purity; to P. . E. . , with the
shiny straight hair and turned-down shirt-collar, who taketh all of us
English men of letters to task in print, roundly and uncompromisingly,
but told me, at the same time, that I had 'awakened a new era' in his
mind. . . .
"The last 200 miles of the voyage from Cincinnati to St. Louis are upon
the Mississippi, for you come down the Ohio to its mouth. It is well for
society that this Mississippi, the renowned father of waters, had no
children who take after him. It is the beastliest river in the
world.". . . (His description is in the _Notes_.)
"Conceive the pleasure of rushing down this stream by night (as we did
last night) at the rate of fifteen miles an hour; striking against
floating blocks of timber every instant; and dreading some infernal blow
at every bump. The helmsman in these boats is in a little glass house
upon the roof. In the Mississippi, another man stands in the very head
of the vessel, listening and watching intently; listening, because they
can tell in dark nights by the noise when any great obstruction is at
hand. This man holds the rope of a large bell which hangs close to the
wheel-house, and whenever he pulls it the engine is to stop directly,
and not to stir until he rings again. Last night, this bell rang at
least once in every five minutes; and at each alarm there was a
concussion which nearly flung one out of bed. . . . While I have been
writing this account, we have shot out of that hideous river, thanks be
to God; never to see it again, I hope, but in a nightmare. We are now on
the smooth Ohio, and the change is like the transition from pain to
perfect ease.
"We had a very crowded levee in St. Louis. Of course the paper had an
account of it. If I were to drop a letter in the street, it would be in
the newspaper next day, and nobody would think its publication an
outrage. The editor objected to my hair, as not curling sufficiently. He
admitted an eye; but objected again to dress, as being somewhat foppish,
'and indeed perhaps rather flash.' 'But such,' he benevolently adds,
'are the differences between American and English taste--rendered more
apparent, perhaps, by all the other gentlemen present being dressed in
black.' Oh that you could have seen the other gentlemen! . . .
"A St. Louis lady complimented Kate upon her voice and manner of
speaking, assuring her that she should never have suspected her of being
Scotch, or even English. She was so obliging as to add that she would
have taken her for an American, anywhere: which she (Kate) was no doubt
aware was a very great compliment, as the Americans were admitted on all
hands to have greatly refined upon the English language! I need not tell
you that out of Boston and New York a nasal drawl is universal, but I
may as well hint that the prevailing grammar is also more than doubtful;
that the oddest vulgarisms are received idioms; that all the women who
have been bred in slave-States speak more or less like negroes, from
having been constantly in their childhood with black nurses; and that
the most fashionable and aristocratic (these are two words in great
use), instead of asking you in what place you were born, inquire where
you 'hail from.' ! !
"Lord Ashburton arrived at Annapolis t'other day, after a voyage of
forty odd days in heavy weather. Straightway the newspapers state, on
the authority of a correspondent who 'rowed round the ship' (I leave you
to fancy her condition), that America need fear no superiority from
England, in respect of her wooden walls. The same correspondent is
'quite pleased' with the frank manner of the English officers; and
patronizes them as being, for John Bulls, quite refined. My face, like
Haji Baba's, turns upside down, and my liver is changed to water, when I
come upon such things, and think who writes and who read them. . . .
"They won't let me alone about slavery. A certain judge in St. Louis
went so far yesterday that I fell upon him (to the indescribable horror
of the man who brought him) and told him a piece of my mind. I said that
I was very averse to speaking on the subject here, and always forbore,
if possible; but when he pitied our national ignorance of the truths of
slavery, I must remind him that we went upon indisputable records,
obtained after many years of careful investigation, and at all sorts of
self-sacrifice, and that I believed we were much more competent to judge
of its atrocity and horror than he who had been brought up in the midst
of it. I told him that I could sympathize with men who admitted it to be
a dreadful evil, but frankly confessed their inability to devise a means
of getting rid of it; but that men who spoke of it as a blessing, as a
matter of course, as a state of things to be desired, were out of the
pale of reason; and that for them to speak of ignorance or prejudice was
an absurdity too ridiculous to be combated. . . .
"It is not six years ago, since a slave in this very same St. Louis,
being arrested (I forget for what), and knowing he had no chance of a
fair trial, be his offense what it might, drew his bowie-knife and
ripped the constable across the body. A scuffle ensuing, the desperate
negro stabbed two others with the same weapon. The mob who gathered
round (among whom were men of mark, wealth, and influence in the place)
overpowered him by numbers; carried him away to a piece of open ground
beyond the city; _and burned him alive_. This, I say, was done within
six years, in broad day; in a city with its courts, lawyers, tipstaffs,
judges, jails, and hangman; and not a hair on the head of one of those
men has been hurt to this day. And it is, believe me, it is the
miserable, wretched independence in small things, the paltry
republicanism which recoils from honest service to an honest man, but
does not shrink from every trick, artifice, and knavery in business,
that makes these slaves necessary, and will render them so, until the
indignation of other countries sets them free.
"They say the slaves are fond of their masters. Look at this pretty
vignette[60] (part of the stock in trade of a newspaper), and judge how
you would feel, when men, looking in your face, told you such tales with
the newspaper lying on the table. In all the slave-districts,
advertisements for runaways are as much matters of course as the
announcement of the play for the evening with us. The poor creatures
themselves fairly worship English people: they would do anything for
them. They are perfectly acquainted with all that takes place in
reference to emancipation; and _of course_ their attachment to us grows
out of their deep devotion to their owners. I cut this illustration out
of a newspaper which had a leader in reference to _the abominable and
hellish doctrine of Abolition--repugnant alike to every law of God and
Nature_. 'I know something,' said a Dr. Bartlett (a very accomplished
man), late a fellow-passenger of ours,--'I know something of their
fondness for their masters. I live in Kentucky; and I can assert upon
my honor that, in my neighborhood, it is as common for a runaway slave,
retaken, to draw his bowie-knife and rip his owner's bowels open, as it
is for you to see a drunken fight in London.'
"SAME BOAT, _Saturday, Sixteenth April, 1842._
"Let me tell you, my dear Forster, before I forget it, a pretty little
scene we had on board the boat between Louisville and St. Louis, as we
were going to the latter place. It is not much to tell, but it was very
pleasant and interesting to witness."
What follows has been printed in the _Notes_, and ought not, by the rule
I have laid down, to be given here. But, beautiful as the printed
description is, it has not profited by the alteration of some touches
and the omission of others in the first fresh version of it, which, for
that reason, I here preserve,--one of the most charming soul-felt
pictures of character and emotion that ever warmed the heart in fact or
fiction. It was, I think, Jeffrey's favorite passage in all the writings
of Dickens; and certainly, if any one would learn the secret of their
popularity, it is to be read in the observation and description of this
little incident.
"There was a little woman on board, with a little baby; and both little
woman and little child were cheerful, good-looking, bright-eyed, and
fair to see. The little woman had been passing a long time with a sick
mother in New York, and had left her home in St. Louis in that condition
in which ladies who truly love their lords desire to be. The baby had
been born in her mother's house, and she had not seen her husband (to
whom she was now returning) for twelve months: having left him a month
or two after their marriage. Well, to be sure, there never was a little
woman so full of hope, and tenderness, and love, and anxiety, as this
little woman was: and there she was, all the livelong day, wondering
whether 'he' would be at the wharf; and whether 'he' had got her letter;
and whether, if she sent the baby on shore by somebody else, _'he' would
know it, meeting it in the street_: which, seeing that he had never set
eyes upon it in his life, was not very likely in the abstract, but was
probable enough to the young mother. She was such an artless little
creature; and was in such a sunny, beaming, hopeful state; and let out
all this matter, clinging close about her heart, so freely; that all the
other lady passengers entered into the spirit of it as much as she: and
the captain (who heard all about it from his wife) was wondrous sly, I
promise you: inquiring, every time we met at table, whether she expected
anybody to meet her at St. Louis, and supposing she wouldn't want to go
ashore the night we reached it, and cutting many other dry jokes which
convulsed all his hearers, but especially the ladies. There was one
little, weazen, dried-apple old woman among them, who took occasion to
doubt the constancy of husbands under such circumstances of bereavement;
and there was another lady (with a lap-dog), old enough to moralize on
the lightness of human affections, and yet not so old that she could
help nursing the baby now and then, or laughing with the rest when the
little woman called it by its father's name, and asked it all manner of
fantastic questions concerning him, in the joy of her heart. It was
something of a blow to the little woman that when we were within twenty
miles of our destination it became clearly necessary to put the baby to
bed; but she got over that with the same good humor, tied a little
handkerchief over her little head, and came out into the gallery with
the rest. Then, such an oracle as she became in reference to the
localities! and such facetiousness as was displayed by the married
ladies! and such sympathy as was shown by the single ones! and such
peals of laughter as the little woman herself (who would just as soon
have cried) greeted every jest with! At last, there were the lights of
St. Louis--and here was the wharf--and those were the steps--and the
little woman, covering her face with her hands, and laughing, or seeming
to laugh, more than ever, ran into her own cabin, and shut herself up
tight. I have no doubt that, in the charming inconsistency of such
excitement, she stopped her ears lest she should hear 'him' asking for
her; but I didn't see her do it. Then a great crowd of people rushed on
board, though the boat was not yet made fast, and was staggering about
among the other boats to find a landing-place; and everybody looked for
the husband, and nobody saw him; when all of a sudden, right in the
midst of them,--God knows how she ever got there,--there was the little
woman hugging with both arms round the neck of a fine, good-looking,
sturdy fellow! And in a moment afterwards, there she was again, dragging
him through the small door of her small cabin, to look at the baby as he
lay asleep!--What a good thing it is to know that so many of us would
have been quite down-hearted and sorry if that husband had failed to
come!"
He then resumes; but in what follows nothing is repeated that will be
found in his printed description of the jaunt to the looking-glass
prairie:
"But about the prairie--it is not, I must confess, so good in its way as
this; but I'll tell you all about that too, and leave you to judge for
yourself. Tuesday the 12th was the day fixed; and we were to start at
five in the morning--sharp. I turned out at four; shaved and dressed;
got some bread and milk; and, throwing up the window, looked down into
the street. Deuce a coach was there, nor did anybody seem to be stirring
in the house. I waited until half-past five; but no preparations being
visible even then, I left Mr. Q. to look out, and lay down upon the bed
again. There I slept until nearly seven, when I was called. . . . Exclusive
of Mr. Q. and myself, there were twelve of my committee in the party:
all lawyers except one. He was an intelligent, mild, well-informed
gentleman of my own age,--the Unitarian minister of the place. With him,
and two other companions, I got into the first coach. . . .
"We halted at so good an inn at Lebanon that we resolved to return there
at night, if possible. One would scarcely find a better village alehouse
of a homely kind in England. During our halt I walked into the village,
and met a _dwelling-house_ coming down-hill at a good round trot, drawn
by some twenty oxen! We resumed our journey as soon as possible, and got
upon the looking-glass prairie at sunset. We halted near a solitary log
house for the sake of its water; unpacked the baskets; formed an
encampment with the carriages; and dined.
"Now, a prairie is undoubtedly worth seeing--but more, that one may say
one has seen it, than for any sublimity it possesses in itself. Like
most things, great or small, in this country, you hear of it with
considerable exaggerations. Basil Hall was really quite right in
depreciating the general character of the scenery. The widely-famed Far
West is not to be compared with even the tamest portions of Scotland or
Wales. You stand upon the prairie, and see the unbroken horizon all
round you. You are on a great plain, which is like a sea without water.
I am exceedingly fond of wild and lonely scenery, and believe that I
have the faculty of being as much impressed by it as any man living. But
the prairie fell, by far, short of my preconceived idea. I felt no such
emotions as I do in crossing Salisbury Plain. The excessive flatness of
the scene makes it dreary, but tame. Grandeur is certainly not its
characteristic. I retired from the rest of the party, to understand my
own feelings the better; and looked all round, again and again. It was
fine. It was worth the ride. The sun was going down, very red and
bright; and the prospect looked like that ruddy sketch of Catlin's,
which attracted our attention (you remember?); except that there was not
so much ground as he represents, between the spectator and the horizon.
But to say (as the fashion is here) that the sight is a landmark in
one's existence, and awakens a new set of sensations, is sheer gammon. I
would say to every man who can't see a prairie--go to Salisbury Plain,
Marlborough Downs, or any of the broad, high, open lands near the sea.
Many of them are fully as impressive, and Salisbury Plain is _decidedly_
more so.
"We had brought roast fowls, buffalo's tongue, ham, bread, cheese,
butter, biscuits, sherry, champagne, lemons and sugar for punch, and
abundance of ice. It was a delicious meal; and, as they were most
anxious that I should be pleased, I warmed myself into a state of
surpassing jollity; proposed toasts from the coach-box (which was the
chair); ate and drank with the best; and made, I believe, an excellent
companion to a very friendly companionable party. In an hour or so we
packed up, and drove back to the inn at Lebanon. While supper was
preparing, I took a pleasant walk with my Unitarian friend; and when it
was over (we drank nothing with it but tea and coffee) we went to bed.
The clergyman and I had an exquisitely clean little chamber of our own;
and the rest of the party were quartered overhead. . . .
"We got back to St. Louis soon after twelve at noon; and I rested during
the remainder of the day. The soiree came off at night, in a very good
ball-room at our inn,--the Planter's House. The whole of the guests were
introduced to us, singly. We were glad enough, you may believe, to come
away at midnight; and were very tired. Yesterday, I wore a blouse.
To-day, a fur coat. Trying changes!
"IN THE SAME BOAT,
"_Sunday, Sixteenth April, 1842._
"The inns in these outlandish corners of the world would astonish you by
their goodness. The Planter's House is as large as the Middlesex
Hospital, and built very much on our hospital plan, with long wards
abundantly ventilated, and plain whitewashed walls. They had a famous
notion of sending up at breakfast-time large glasses of new milk with
blocks of ice in them as clear as crystal. Our table was abundantly
supplied indeed at every meal. One day when Kate and I were dining alone
together, in our own room, we counted sixteen dishes on the table at the
same time.
"The society is pretty rough, and intolerably conceited. All the
inhabitants are young. _I didn't see one gray head in St. Louis._ There
is an island close by, called Bloody Island. It is the dueling-ground of
St. Louis; and is so called from the last fatal duel which was fought
there. It was a pistol duel, breast to breast, and both parties fell
dead at the same time. One of our prairie party (a young man) had acted
as second there, in several encounters. The last occasion was a duel
with rifles, at forty paces; and coming home he told us how he had
bought his man a coat of green linen to fight in, woolen being usually
fatal to rifle-wounds. Prairie is variously called (on the refinement
principle, I suppose) Para_a_rer; par_e_arer; and paro_a_rer. I am
afraid, my dear fellow, you will have had great difficulty in reading
all the foregoing text. I have written it, very laboriously, on my knee;
and the engine throbs and starts as if the boat were possessed with a
devil.
"SANDUSKY,
"_Sunday, Twenty-fourth April, 1842._
"We went ashore at Louisville this night week, where I left off, two
lines above; and slept at the hotel, in which we had put up before. The
Messenger being abominably slow, we got our luggage out next morning,
and started on again at eleven o'clock in the Benjamin Franklin
mail-boat: a splendid vessel, with a cabin more than two hundred feet
long, and little state-rooms affording proportionate conveniences. She
got in at Cincinnati by one o'clock next morning, when we landed in the
dark and went back to our old hotel. As we made our way on foot over the
broken pavement, Anne measured her length upon the ground, but didn't
hurt herself. I say nothing of Kate's troubles--but you recollect her
propensity? She falls into, or out of, every coach or boat we enter;
scrapes the skin off her legs; brings great sores and swellings on her
feet; chips large fragments out of her ankle-bones; and makes herself
blue with bruises. She really has, however, since we got over the first
trial of being among circumstances so new and so fatiguing, made a _most
admirable_ traveler in every respect. She has never screamed or
expressed alarm under circumstances that would have fully justified her
in doing so, even in my eyes; has never given way to despondency or
fatigue, though we have now been traveling incessantly, through a very
rough country, for more than a month, and have been at times, as you may
readily suppose, most thoroughly tired; has always accommodated herself,
well and cheerfully, to everything; and has pleased me very much, and
proved herself perfectly game.
"We remained at Cincinnati all Tuesday the nineteenth, and all that
night. At eight o'clock on Wednesday morning the twentieth, we left in
the mail-stage for Columbus: Anne, Kate, and Mr. Q. inside; I on the
box. The distance is a hundred and twenty miles; the road macadamized;
and, for an American road, very good. We were three-and-twenty hours
performing the journey. We traveled all night; reached Columbus at seven
in the morning; breakfasted; and went to bed until dinner-time. At
night we held a levee for half an hour, and the people poured in as they
always do: each gentleman with a lady on each arm, exactly like the
Chorus to God Save the Queen. I wish you could see them, that you might
know what a splendid comparison this is. They wear their clothes
precisely as the chorus people do; and stand--supposing Kate and me to
be in the centre of the stage, with our backs to the footlights--just as
the company would, on the first night of the season. They shake hands
exactly after the manner of the guests at a ball at the Adelphi or the
Haymarket; receive any facetiousness on my part as if there were a stage
direction 'all laugh;' and have rather more difficulty in 'getting off'
than the last gentlemen, in white pantaloons, polished boots, and
berlins, usually display, under the most trying circumstances.
"Next morning, that is to say, on Friday, the 22d, at seven o'clock
exactly, we resumed our journey. The stage from Columbus to this place
only running thrice a week, and not on that day, I bargained for an
'exclusive extra' with four horses; for which I paid forty dollars, or
eight pounds English: the horses changing, as they would if it were the
regular stage. To insure our getting on properly, the proprietors sent
an agent on the box; and, with no other company but him and a hamper
full of eatables and drinkables, we went upon our way. It is impossible
to convey an adequate idea to you of the kind of road over which we
traveled. I can only say that it was, at the best, but a track through
the wild forest, and among the swamps, bogs, and morasses of the
withered bush. A great portion of it was what is called a 'corduroy
road:' which is made by throwing round logs or whole trees into a swamp,
and leaving them to settle there. Good Heaven! if you only felt one of
the least of the jolts with which the coach falls from log to log! It is
like nothing but going up a steep flight of stairs in an omnibus. Now
the coach flung us in a heap on its floor, and now crushed our heads
against its roof. Now one side of it was deep in the mire, and we were
holding on to the other. Now it was lying on the horses' tails, and now
again upon its back. But it never, never was in any position, attitude,
or kind of motion, to which we are accustomed in coaches; or made the
smallest approach to our experience of the proceedings of any sort of
vehicle that goes on wheels. Still, the day was beautiful, the air
delicious, and we were _alone_; with no tobacco-spittle, or eternal
prosy conversation about dollars and politics (the only two subjects
they ever converse about, or can converse upon), to bore us. We really
enjoyed it; made a joke of the being knocked about; and were quite
merry. At two o'clock we stopped in the wood to open our hamper and
dine; and we drank to our darlings and all friends at home. Then we
started again and went on until ten o'clock at night: when we reached a
place called Lower Sandusky, sixty-two miles from our starting-point.
The last three hours of the journey were not very pleasant; for it
lightened--awfully: every flash very vivid, very blue, and very long;
and, the wood being so dense that the branches on _either_ side of the
track rattled and broke _against_ the coach, it was rather a dangerous
neighborhood for a thunder-storm.
"The inn at which we halted was a rough log house. The people were all
abed, and we had to knock them up. We had the queerest sleeping-room,
with two doors, one opposite the other; both opening directly on the
wild black country, and neither having any lock or bolt. The effect of
these opposite doors was, that one was always blowing the other open: an
ingenuity in the art of building, which I don't remember to have met
with before. You should have seen me, in my shirt, blockading them with
portmanteaus, and desperately endeavoring to make the room tidy! But the
blockading was really needful, for in my dressing-case I have about
250_l._ in gold; and for the amount of the middle figure in that scarce
metal there are not a few men in the West who would murder their
fathers. Apropos of this golden store, consider at your leisure the
strange state of things in this country. It has _no money_; really no
money. The bank-paper won't pass; the newspapers are full of
advertisements from tradesmen who sell by barter; and American gold is
not to be had, or purchased. I bought sovereigns, English sovereigns, at
first; but as I could get none of them at Cincinnati, to this day, I
have had to purchase French gold; 20-franc pieces; with which I am
traveling as if I were in Paris!
"But let's go back to Lower Sandusky. Mr. Q. went to bed up in the roof
of the log house somewhere, but was so beset by bugs that he got up
after an hour and _lay in the coach_, . . . where he was obliged to wait
till breakfast-time. We breakfasted, driver and all, in the one common
room. It was papered with newspapers, and was as rough a place as need
be. At half-past seven we started again, and we reached Sandusky at six
o'clock yesterday afternoon. It is on Lake Erie, twenty-four hours'
journey by steamboat from Buffalo. We found no boat here, nor has there
been one, since. We are waiting, with every thing packed up, ready to
start on the shortest notice; and are anxiously looking out for smoke in
the distance.
"There was an old gentleman in the log inn at Lower Sandusky who treats
with the Indians on the part of the American government, and has just
concluded a treaty with the Wyandot Indians at that place to remove next
year to some land provided for them west of the Mississippi, a little
way beyond St. Louis. He described his negotiation to me, and their
reluctance to go, exceedingly well. They are a fine people, but degraded
and broken down. If you could see any of their men and women on a
race-course in England, you would not know them from gipsies.
"We are in a small house here, but a very comfortable one, and the
people are exceedingly obliging. Their demeanor in these country parts
is invariably morose, sullen, clownish, and repulsive. I should think
there is not, on the face of the earth, a people so entirely destitute
of humor, vivacity, or the capacity of enjoyment. It is most remarkable.
I am quite serious when I say that I have not heard a hearty laugh these
six weeks, except my own; nor have I seen a merry face on any shoulders
but a black man's. Lounging listlessly about; idling in bar-rooms;
smoking; spitting; and lolling on the pavement in rocking-chairs,
outside the shop-doors; are the only recreations. I don't think the
national shrewdness extends beyond the Yankees; that is, the Eastern
men. The rest are heavy, dull, and ignorant. Our landlord here is from
the East. He is a handsome, obliging, civil fellow. He comes into the
room with his hat on; spits in the fireplace as he talks; sits down on
the sofa with his hat on; pulls out his newspaper, and reads; but to all
this I am accustomed. He is anxious to please--and that is enough.
"We are wishing very much for a boat; for we hope to find our letters at
Buffalo. It is half-past one; and, as there is no boat in sight, we are
fain (sorely against our wills) to order an early dinner.
"_Tuesday, April Twenty-sixth, 1842._
"NIAGARA FALLS!!! (UPON THE ENGLISH[61] SIDE.)
"I don't know at what length I might have written you from Sandusky, my
beloved friend, if a steamer had not come in sight just as I finished
the last unintelligible sheet! (oh! the ink in these parts!): whereupon
I was obliged to pack up bag and baggage, to swallow a hasty apology for
a dinner, and to hurry my train on board with all the speed I might. She
was a fine steamship, four hundred tons burden, name the Constitution,
had very few passengers on board, and had bountiful and handsome
accommodation. It's all very fine talking about Lake Erie, but it won't
do for persons who are liable to sea-sickness. We were all sick. It's
almost as bad in that respect as the Atlantic. The waves are very short,
and horribly constant. We reached Buffalo at six this morning; went
ashore to breakfast; sent to the post-office forthwith; and
received--oh! who or what can say with how much pleasure and what
unspeakable delight!--our English letters!
"We lay all Sunday night at a town (and a beautiful town too) called
Cleveland; on Lake Erie. The people poured on board, in crowds, by six
on Monday morning, to see me; and a party of 'gentlemen' actually
planted themselves before our little cabin, and stared in at the door
and windows _while I was washing, and Kate lay in bed_. I was so
incensed at this, and at a certain newspaper published in that town
which I had accidentally seen in Sandusky (advocating war with England
to the death, saying that Britain must be 'whipped again,' and promising
all true Americans that within two years they should sing Yankee Doodle
in Hyde Park and Hail Columbia in the courts of Westminster), that when
the mayor came on board to present himself to me, according to custom, I
refused to see him, and bade Mr. Q. tell him why and wherefore. His
honor took it very coolly, and retired to the top of the wharf, with a
big stick and a whittling knife, with which he worked so lustily
(staring at the closed door of our cabin all the time) that long before
the boat left, the big stick was no bigger than a cribbage-peg!
"I never in my life was in such a state of excitement as coming from
Buffalo here, this morning. You come by railroad, and are nigh two hours
upon the way. I looked out for the spray, and listened for the roar, as
far beyond the bounds of possibility as though, landing in Liverpool, I
were to listen for the music of your pleasant voice in Lincoln's Inn
Fields. At last, when the train stopped, I saw two great white clouds
rising up from the depths of the earth,--nothing more. They rose up
slowly, gently, majestically, into the air. I dragged Kate down a deep
and slippery path leading to the ferry-boat; bullied Anne for not coming
fast enough; perspired at every pore; and felt, it is impossible to say
how, as the sound grew louder and louder in my ears, and yet nothing
could be seen for the mist.
"There were two English officers with us (ah! what _gentlemen_, what
noblemen of nature they seemed), and they hurried off with me; leaving
Kate and Anne on a crag of ice; and clambered after me over the rocks at
the foot of the small Fall, while the ferryman was getting the boat
ready. I was not disappointed--but I could make out nothing. In an
instant I was blinded by the spray, and wet to the skin. I saw the water
tearing madly down from some immense height, but could get no idea of
shape, or situation, or anything but vague immensity. But when we were
seated in the boat, and crossing at the very foot of the cataract--then
I began to feel what it was. Directly I had changed my clothes at the
inn I went out again, taking Kate with me, and hurried to the Horse-shoe
Fall. I went down alone, into the very basin. It would be hard for a man
to stand nearer God than he does there. There was a bright rainbow at my
feet; and from that I looked up to--great Heaven! to _what_ a fall of
bright green water! The broad, deep, mighty stream seems to die in the
act of falling; and from its unfathomable grave arises that tremendous
ghost of spray and mist which is never laid, and has been haunting this
place with the same dread solemnity--perhaps from the creation of the
world.
"We purpose remaining here a week. In my next I will try to give you
some idea of my impressions, and to tell you how they change with every
day. At present it is impossible. I can only say that the first effect
of this tremendous spectacle on me was peace of mind--tranquillity--great
thoughts of eternal rest and happiness--nothing of terror. I can shudder
at the recollection of Glencoe (dear friend, with Heaven's leave we must
see Glencoe together), but whenever I think of Niagara I shall think of
its beauty.
"If you could hear the roar that is in my ears as I write this. Both
Falls are under our windows. From our sitting-room and bedroom we look
down straight upon them. There is not a soul in the house but ourselves.
What would I give if you and Mac were here to share the sensations of
this time! I was going to add, what would I give if the dear girl whose
ashes lie in Kensal Green had lived to come so far along with us--but
she has been here many times, I doubt not, since her sweet face faded
from my earthly sight.
* * * * *
"One word on the precious letters before I close. You are right, my dear
fellow, about the papers; and you are right (I grieve to say) about the
people. _Am I right?_ quoth the conjurer. _Yes!_ from gallery, pit, and
boxes. I _did_ let out those things, at first, against my will, but when
I come to tell you all--well; only wait--only wait--till the end of
July. I say no more.
"I do perceive a perplexingly divided and subdivided duty, in the matter
of the book of travels. Oh! the sublimated essence of comicality that I
_could_ distil, from the materials I have! . . . You are a part, and an
essential part, of our home, dear friend, and I exhaust my imagination
in picturing the circumstances under which I shall surprise you by
walking into 58, Lincoln's Inn Fields. We are truly grateful to God for
the health and happiness of our inexpressibly dear children and all our
friends. But one letter more--only one. . . . I don't seem to have been
half affectionate enough, but there _are_ thoughts, you know, that lie
too deep for words."
FOOTNOTES:
[59] A young lady's account of this party, written next morning, and
quoted in one of the American memoirs of Dickens, enables us to
contemplate his suffering from the point of view of those who inflicted
it: "I went last evening to a party at Judge Walker's, given to the hero
of the day. . . . When we reached the house, Mr. Dickens had left the
crowded rooms, and was in the hall with his wife, about taking his
departure when we entered the door. We were introduced to him in our
wrapping; and in the flurry and embarrassment of the meeting, one of the
party dropped a parcel, containing shoes, gloves, etc. Mr. Dickens,
stooping, gathered them up and restored them with a laughing remark, and
we bounded up-stairs to get our things off. Hastening down again, we
found him with Mrs. Dickens seated upon a sofa, surrounded by a group of
ladies; Judge Walker having requested him to delay his departure for a
few moments, for the gratification of some tardy friends who had just
arrived, ourselves among the number. Declining to re-enter the rooms
where he had already taken leave of the guests, he had seated himself in
the hall. He is young and handsome, has a mellow, beautiful eye, fine
brow, and abundant hair. His mouth is large, and his smile so bright it
seemed to shed light and happiness all about him. His manner is easy,
negligent, but not elegant. His dress was foppish; in fact, he was
overdressed, yet his garments were worn so easily they appeared to be a
necessary part of him. (!) He had a dark coat, with lighter pantaloons;
a black waistcoat, embroidered with colored flowers; and about his neck,
covering his white shirt-front, was a black neckcloth, also embroidered
in colors, in which were placed two large diamond pins connected by a
chain. A gold watch-chain, and a large red rose in his button-hole,
completed his toilet. He appeared a little weary, but answered the
remarks made to him--for he originated none--in an agreeable manner. Mr.
Beard's portrait of Fagin was so placed in the room that we could see it
from where we stood surrounding him. One of the ladies asked him if it
was his idea of the Jew. He replied, 'Very nearly.' Another, laughingly,
requested that he would give her the rose he wore, as a memento. He
shook his head and said, 'That will not do; he could not give it to one;
the others would be jealous.' A half-dozen then insisted on having it,
whereupon he proposed to divide the leaves among them. In taking the
rose from his coat, either by design or accident, the leaves loosened
and fell upon the floor, and amid considerable laughter the ladies
stooped and gathered them. He remained some twenty minutes, perhaps, in
the hall, and then took his leave. I must confess to considerable
disappointment in the personal of my idol. I felt that his throne was
shaken, although it never could be destroyed." This appalling picture
supplements and very sufficiently explains the mournful passage in the
text.
[60] "RUNAWAY NEGRO IN JAIL" was the heading of the advertisement
inclosed, which had a woodcut of master and slave in its corner, and
announced that Wilford Garner, sheriff and jailer of Chicot County,
Arkansas, requested owner to come and prove property--or----
[61] Ten dashes underneath the word.