Stepped on board of the Narangansett steam-vessel for Providence. Here
is a fair specimen of American travelling:--From New York to Providence,
by the Long Island Sound, is two hundred miles; and this is
accomplished, under usual circumstances, in thirteen hours: from
Providence to Boston, forty miles by railroad, in two hours--which
makes, from New York to Boston, an average speed of sixteen miles an
hour, stoppages included.
I was, I must confess, rather surprised, when in the railroad cars, to
find that we were passing through a _church-yard_, with tomb-stones on
both sides of us. In Rhode Island and Massachusetts, where the
pilgrim-fathers first landed--the two States that take pride to
themselves (and with justice) for superior morality and a strict
exercise of religious observances--they look down upon the other States
of the Union, especially New York, and cry out, "I thank thee, Lord,
that I am not as that publican." Yet here, in Rhode Island, are the
sleepers of the railway laid over the sleepers in death; here do they
grind down the bones of their ancestors for the sake of gain, and
consecrated earth is desecrated by the iron wheels, loaded with
Mammon-seeking mortals. And this in the puritanical state of Rhode
Island! Would any engineer have ventured to propose such a line in
England? I think not. After all, it is but human nature. I have run
over the world a long while, and have always observed that people are
very religious so long as religion does not interfere with their
pockets; but, with gold in one hand and godliness in the other, the
tangible is always preferred to the immaterial. In America everything
is sacrificed to time--for time is money. The New Yorkers would have
dashed right through the church itself; but then, _they_ are publicans,
and don't _pretend_ to be good.
Boston is a fine city, and, as a commercial one, almost as well situated
as New York. It has, however, lost a large portion of its commerce,
which the latter has gradually wrested from it, and it must eventually
lose much more. The population of Boston is about eighty thousand, and
it has probably more people of leisure in it (that is, out of business
and living on their own means) than even Philadelphia; taking into the
estimate the difference between the populations. They are more learned
and scientific here than at New York, though not more so than at
Philadelphia; but they are more English than in any other city in
America. The Massachusetts people are very fond of comparing their
country with that of England. The scenery is not unlike; but it is not
like England in its high state of cultivation. Stone walls are bad
substitutes for green hedges. Still, there are some lovely spots in the
environs of Boston. Mount Auburn, laid out as a Pere la Chaise, is, in
natural beauties, far superior to any other place of the kind. One
would almost wish to be buried there; and the proprietors, anxious to
have it peopled, offer, by their arrangements as to the price of places
of interment, a handsome premium to those who will soonest die and be
buried--which is certainly a consideration.
Fresh Pond is also a very romantic spot. It is a lake of about two
hundred acres, whose water is so pure that the ice is transparent as
glass. Its proprietor clears many thousand dollars a year by the sale
of it. It is cut out in blocks of three feet square, and supplies most
parts of America down to New Orleans; and every winter latterly two or
three ships have been loaded and sent to Calcutta, by which a very
handsome profit has been realised.
Since I have been here, I have made every enquiry relative to the
sea-serpent which frequents this coast alone. There are many hundreds
of most respectable people, who, on other points, would be considered as
incapable of falsehood, who declare they have seen the animals, and
vouch for their existence. It is rather singular that in America there
is but one copy of Bishop Pontoppidon's work on Norway, and in it the
sea-serpent is described, and a rough wood-cut of its appearance given.
In all the American newspapers a drawing was given of the animal as
described by those who saw it, and it proved to be almost a _fac-simile_
of the one described by the Bishop in his work.
Now that we are on marine matters, I must notice the prodigious size of
the lobsters off Boston Coast: they could stow a dozen common English
lobsters under their coats of mail. My very much respected friend Sir
Isaac Coffin, when he was here, once laid a wager that he would produce
a lobster weighing thirty pounds. The bet was accepted, and the admiral
despatched people to the proper quarter to procure one: but they were
not then in season, and could not be had. The admiral, not liking to
lose his money, brought up, instead of the lobster, the affidavits of
certain people that they had often seen lobsters of that size and
weight. The affidavits of the deponents he submitted to the other
party, and pretended that he had won the wager. The case was referred
to arbitration, and the admiral was cast with the following pithy reply,
"_Depositions are not lobsters_."
Massachusetts is certainly very English in its scenery, and Boston
essentially English as a city. The Bostonians assert that they are more
English than we are, that is, that they have strictly adhered to the old
English customs and manners, as handed down to them previous to the
Revolution. That of sitting a very long while at their wine after
dinner, is one which they certainly adhere to, and which, _I_ think,
would be more honoured in the breach than the observance; but their
hospitality is unbounded, and you do, as an Englishman, feel at home
with them. I agree with the Bostonians so far, that they certainly
appear to have made no change in their manners and customs for these
last hundred years. You meet here with frequent specimens of the Old
English Gentleman, descendants of the best old English families who
settled here long before the Revolution, and are now living on their
incomes, with a town house and a country seat to retire to during the
summer season. The society of Boston is very delightful; it wins upon
you every day, and that is the greatest compliment that can be paid to
it.
Perhaps of all the Americans the Bostonians are the most sensitive to
any illiberal remarks made upon the country, for they consider
themselves, and pride themselves, as being peculiarly English; while, on
the contrary, the majority of the Americans deny that they are English.
There certainly is less intermixture of foreign blood in this city than
in any other in America. It will appear strange, but so wedded are they
to old customs, even to John Bullism, that it is not more than seven or
eight years that French wines have been put on the Boston tables, and
become in general use in this city.
It is a pity that this feeling towards England is not likely to
continue; indeed, even at this moment it is gradually wearing away.
Self-interest governs the world. At the declaration of the last war
with England, it was the Northern States which were so opposed to it,
and the Southern who were in favour of it: but now circumstances have
changed; the Northern States, since the advance in prosperity and
increase of produce in the Southern and Western States, feel aware that
it is only as manufacturing states that they can hold their rank with
the others. Their commerce has decreased since the completion of the
Erie and Ohio canals, and during the war they discovered the advantage
that would accrue to them, as manufacturers, to supply the Southern and
Western markets. The imports of English goods have nearly ruined them.
They now manufacture nothing but coarse articles, and as you travel
through the Eastern countries, you are surprised to witness splendid
fabrics commenced, but, for want of encouragement, not finished. This
has changed the interests of the opponent States. The Southern are very
anxious to remain at peace with England, that their produce may find a
market; while the Northern, on the contrary, would readily consent to a
war, that they might shut out the English manufactures, and have the
supply entirely in their own hands. The Eastern States (I particularly
refer to Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island) offer a proof of
what can be effected by economy, prudence, and industry. Except on the
borders of the rivers, the lands are generally sterile, and the climate
is severe, yet, perhaps, the population is more at its ease than in any
other part of the Union; but the produce of the States is not sufficient
for the increasing population, or rather what the population would have
been had it not migrated every year to the West and South. They set a
higher value upon good connections in these poor States than they do in
others; and if a daughter is to be married, they will ask what family
the suitor is of, and if it bears a good name, they are quite
indifferent as to whether he has a cent or not. It is remarkable, that
if a man has three or four sons in these States, one will be a lawyer,
another a medical man, another a clergyman, and one will remain at home
to take the property; and thus, out of the proceeds of a farm, perhaps
not containing more than fifty acres, all these young men shall be
properly educated, and in turn sent forth to the West and South, where
they gain an honourable independence, and very often are sent to
Congress as senators and representatives. Industry and frugality are
the only entailed estate bequeathed from father to son. Yet this State
alone manufactures to the value of 86,282,616 of dollars in the year.
As a general axiom it may fairly be asserted, that the more sterile the
soil, the more virtuous, industrious, and frugal are the inhabitants;
and it may be added, that such a country sends out more clever and
intelligent men than one that is nominally more blessed by Providence.
The fact is, without frugality and industry the Eastern States could not
exist; they become virtues of necessity, and are the basis of others;
whilst, where there is abundance, vice springs up and idleness takes
deep root.
The population of Massachusetts is by the last returns 701,331 souls. I
rather think the proportion of women to men is very great.
An energetic and enterprising people are naturally anxious for an
investigation into cause and effect, a search into which is, after all,
nothing but curiosity well directed, and the most curious of all men is
the philosopher. Curiosity, therefore, becomes a virtue or a small
vice, according to the use made of it. The Americans are excessively
curious, especially the mob: they cannot bear anything like a secret,--
that's _unconstitutional_. It may be remembered, that the Catholic
Convent near Boston, which had existed many years, was attacked by the
mob and pulled down. I was enquiring into the cause of this outrage in
a country where all forms of religion are tolerated; and an American
gentleman told me, that although other reasons had been adduced for it,
he fully believed, in his own mind, that the majority of the mob were
influenced more by _curiosity_ than any other feeling. The Convent was
_sealed_ to them, and they were determined to know what was in it.
"Why, sir," continued he, "I will lay a wager that if the authorities
were to nail together a dozen planks, and fix them up on the Common,
with a caution to the public that they were not to go near or touch
them, in twenty-four hours a mob would be raised to pull them down and
ascertain what the planks contained." I mention this conversation, to
shew in what a dexterous manner this American gentleman attempted to
palliate one of the grossest outrages ever committed by his countrymen.