Crossed over to New Jersey, and took the railroad, to view the falls of
the Passaic River, about fifteen miles from New York. This water-power
has given birth to Patterson, a town with ten thousand inhabitants,
where a variety of manufactures is carried on. A more beautiful wild
spot can hardly be conceived; and to an European who has been accustomed
to travel far in search of the picturesque, it appears singular that at
so short a distance from a large city, he should at once find himself in
the midst of such a strange combination of nature and art. Independent
of their beauty, they are, perhaps, the most singular falls that are
known to exist. The whole country is of trappe formation, and the black
rocks rise up strictly vertical. The river, which at the Falls is about
one hundred and twenty yards wide, pours over a bed of rock between
hills covered with chestnut, walnut, pine, and sycamore, all mingled
together, and descending to the edge of the bank; their bright and
various foliage forming a lovely contrast to the clear rushing water.
The bed of black rock over which the river runs, is, at the Fall,
suddenly split in two, vertically, and across the whole width of the
river. The fissure is about seventy feet deep, and not more than twelve
feet wide at any part. Down into this chasm pour the whole waters of
the river, escaping from it, at a right angle, into a deep basin,
surrounded with perpendicular rocks from eighty to ninety feet high.
You may therefore stand on the opposite side of the chasm, looking up
the river, within a few feet of the Fall, and watch the roaring waters
as they precipitate themselves below. In this position, with the swift,
clear, but not deep waters before you, forcing their passage through the
rocky bed, with the waving trees on each side, their branches feathering
to the water's edge, or dipping and rising in the stream, you might
imagine yourself far removed from your fellow-men, and you feel that in
such a beauteous spot you could well turn anchorite, and commune with
Nature alone. But turn round with your back to the Fall--look below,
and all is changed: art in full activity--millions of reels whirling in
their sockets--the bright polished cylinders incessantly turning, and
never tiring. What formerly was the occupation of thousands of
industrious females, who sat with their distaff at the cottage door, is
now effected in a hundredth part of the time, and in every variety, by
those compressed machines which require but the attendance of one child
to several hundreds. But machinery cannot perform everything, and
notwithstanding this reduction of labour, the romantic Falls of the
Passaic find employment for the industry of thousands.
We walked up the banks of the river above the Fall, and met with about
twenty or thirty urchins who were bathing at the mouth of the cut, made
for the supply of the water-power to the manufactories below. The river
is the property of an individual, and is very valuable: he receives six
hundred dollars per annum for one square foot of water-power; ten years
hence it will be rented at a much higher price.
We amused ourselves by throwing small pieces of money into the water,
where it was about a fathom deep, for the boys to dive after; they
gained them too easily; we went to another part in the _cut_, where it
was much deeper, and threw in a dollar. The boys stood naked on the
rocks, like so many cormorants, waiting to dart upon their prey; when
the dollar had had time to sink to the bottom the word was given--they
all dashed down like lightning and disappeared. About a minute elapsed
ere there was any sign of their re-appearance, when they came up, one by
one, breathless and flushed (like racers who had pulled up), and at last
the victor appeared with the dollar between his teeth. We left these
juvenile _Sam Patches_, and returned to the town. [Sam Patch, an
American peripatetic, who used to amuse himself and astonish his
countrymen by leaping down the different falls in America. He leaped
down a portion of the Niagara without injury; but one fine day, having
taken a drop too much, he took a leap too much. He went down the
Genassee Fall, and since that time he has not been seen or heard of.]
There is no part of the world, perhaps, where you have more difficulty
in obtaining permission to be alone, and indulge in a reverie, than in
America. The Americans are as gregarious as school-boys, and think it
an incivility to leave you by yourself. Every thing is done in crowds,
and among a crowd. They even prefer a double bed to a single one, and I
have often had the offer to sleep with me made out of real kindness.
You must go "east of sun-rise" (or west of sun-set) if you would have
solitude.
I never was in a more meditative humour, more anxious to be left to my
own dreamings, than when I ascended the railroad car with my companion
to return to Jersey city; we were the only two in that division of the
car, and my friend, who understood me, had the complaisance to go fast
asleep. I made sure that, for an hour or two, I could indulge in my own
castle-buildings, and allow my fleeting thoughts to pass over my brain,
like the scud over the moon. At our first stoppage a third party
stepped in and seated himself between us. He looked at my companion,
who was fast asleep. He turned to me, and I turned away my head. Once
more was I standing at the Falls of the Passaic; once more were the
waters rolling down before me, the trees gracefully waving their boughs
to the breeze, and the spray cooling my heated brain; my brain was, like
the camera-obscura, filled with the pleasing images, which I watched as
they passed before me so vividly portrayed, all in life and motion, when
I was interrupted by--
"I was born in the very heart of Cheshire, sir."
Confound the fellow! The river, falls, foliage, all vanished at once;
and I found myself sitting in a railroad-car (which I had been
unconscious of), with a heavy lump of humanity by my side. I wished one
of the largest Cheshire cheeses down his throat.
"Indeed!" replied I, not looking at the man.
"Yes, sir--in the very heart of Cheshire."
"Would you had staid there!" thought I, turning away to the window
without replying.
"Will you oblige me with a pinch of your snuff, sir? I left my box at
New York."
I gave him the box, and, when he had helped himself, laid it down on the
vacant seat opposite to him, that he might not have to apply again, and
fell back and shut my eyes, as a hint to him that I did not wish to
enter into conversation. A pause ensued, and I had hopes; but they were
delusive.
"I have been eighteen years in this country, sir."
"You appear to be quite _Americanised_!" thought I; but I made him no
answer.
"I went up to Patterson, sir," continued he (now turning round to me,
and speaking in my ear), "thinking that I could get to Philadelphia by
that route, and found that I had made a mistake; so I have come back. I
am _told_ there are some pretty falls there, sir."
"Would you were beneath them!" thought I; but I could not help laughing
at the idea of a man going to Patterson, and returning without seeing
the falls! By this time he had awakened his companion, who, being
American himself, and finding that there was to be no more sleep, took
him up, in the American fashion, and put to him successively the
following questions, all of which were answered without
hesitation:--"What is your name? where are you from? where are you
going? what is your profession? how many dollars have you made? have you
a wife and children?" All these being duly responded to, he asked my
companion who I might be, and was told that I was an operative artist,
and one of the first cotton spinners in the country.
This communication procured for me considerable deference from our new
acquaintance during the remainder of our journey. He observed in the
ear of my companion, that he thought I knew a thing or two. In a
country like America the Utilitarian will always command respect.