_Wednesday, August 1st, 1832._
Another break in my journal, and here I am on board the Pacific, bound
for America, having left home and all the world behind.--Well!
* * * * *
We reached the quay just as the ship was being pulled, and pushed, and
levered to the entrance of the dock;--the quays were lined with people;
among them were several known faces,--Mr. ----, Mr. ----. M---- came on
board to take my letters, and bid me good-by.
* * * * *
I had a bunch of carnations in my hand, which I had snatched from our
drawing-room chimney;--English flowers! dear English flowers! they will
be withered long before I again see land; but I will keep them until I
once more stand upon the soil on which they grew.
* * * * *
The sky had become clouded, and the wind blew cold.
* * * * *
Came down and put our narrow room to rights.
* * * * *
Worked at my Bible-cover till dinner-time. We dined at half-past
three.--The table was 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-natured, and talkative.
Our passengers are all men, with the exception of three; a nice
pretty-looking girl, who is going out with her brother; a fat old
woman, and a fat young one. I cried almost the whole of dinner-time.
* * * * *
After dinner the ladies adjourned to their own cabin, and the gentlemen
began to debate about regulating the meal hours. They adopted the
debating society tone, called my poor dear father to the chair, and
presently I heard, oh horror! (what I had not thought to hear again for
six weeks) the clapping of hands. They sent him in to consult us about
the dinner-hour: and we having decided four o'clock, the debate
continued with considerable merriment. Presently my father, Colonel
----, and Mr. ----, came into our cabin:--the former read us Washington
Irving's speech at the New-York dinner. Some of it is very beautiful;
all of it is in good feeling--it made me cry. Oh my home, my land,
England, glorious little England! from which this bragging big baby was
born, how my heart yearns towards your earth! I sat working till the
gentlemen left us, and then wrote journal.
* * * * *
I am weary and sad, and will try to go and sleep.--It rains: I cannot
see the moon.
_Thursday, 2d._
It rained all night, and in the morning the wind had died away, and we
lay rocking, becalmed on the waveless waters. At eight o'clock they
brought me some breakfast, after which I got up; while dressing, I could
not help being amused at hearing the cocks crowing, and the cow lowing,
and geese and ducks gabbling, as though we were in the midst of a
farm-yard. At half-past ten, having finished my toilet, I emerged; and
Miss ---- and I walked upon deck. The sea lay still, and grey, without
ridge or sparkle, a sheet of lead; the sky was of the same dull colour.
The deck was wet and comfortless. We were but just off Holyhead: two or
three ships stood against the horizon, still as ourselves. The whole was
melancholy:--and, sadder than all, sat a poor woman, dressed in
mourning, in a corner of the deck; she was a steerage passenger, and I
never saw so much sorrow in any face. Poor thing! poor thing! was her
heart aching for home, and kindred left behind her? It made mine ach to
look at her. We walked up and down for an hour. I like my companion
well; she is a nice young quiet thing, just come from a country home.
Came down, and began getting out books for my German lesson, but,
turning rather awful, left my learning on the floor, and betook myself
to my berth. Slept nearly till dinner-time. At dinner I took my place at
table, but presently the misery returned; and getting up, while I had
sufficient steadiness left to walk becomingly down the room, I came to
my cabin; my dinner followed me thither, and, lying on my back, I very
comfortably discussed it. Got up, devoured some raspberry-tart and
grapes, and, being altogether delightful again, sat working and singing
till tea-time: after which, wrote journal, and now to bed. How strange
it seems to hear these Americans speaking in English of _the
English_!--"Oh, hame, hame, hame wad I be,"--but it is not time to sing
that yet.
_Friday, 3d._
Breakfasted at eight; got up, and dressed, and came upon deck. The day
was lovely, the sea one deep dark sapphire, the sky bright and
cloudless, 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-twenty; which makes his having the command of a ship rather an
awful consideration. At half-past eleven got my German, and worked at it
till half-past one, then got my work; and presently we were summoned on
deck by sound of bell, and oyes! oyes! oyes!--and a society was
established for the good demeanour and sociability of the passengers. My
father was in the chair. Mr. ---- was voted secretary, Dr. ----
attorney-general; 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 walk
for half an hour with Captain Whaite. Established myself to work, and
presently we were all summoned to attend a mock trial of Colonel ----,
which made us all laugh most exceedingly. We adopted titles--I chose my
family appellation of Puddledock: many of the names were very absurd,
and as a penalty ensued upon not giving every body their proper
designation, much amusement arose from it. When the trial was over, we
played at dumb crambo, and earth, air, and water, with infinite zeal,
till tea-time. After tea, we were summoned on deck to see the ship make
a tack. The wind was against us, the sea inky black, the pale clear moon
stood high against the sail--presently, with a whooping 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,
'twas time pleasantly spent. Came to bed at ten.
_Wednesday, 15th._
Here's a lapse! thanks to head winds, a rolling sea, and their result,
sickness, sadness, sorrow. I've been better for the last two days, thank
God! and take to my book again. Rose at eight, dawdled about, and then
came up stairs. Breakfasted, sat working at my Bible-cover till
lunch-time. Somebody asked me if I had any of Mrs. Siddons's hair; I
sent for my dressing-box, and forthwith it was overhauled, to use the
appropriate phrase, by half the company, whom a rainy day had reduced to
a state of worse than usual want of occupation. The rain continued all
day; we ladies dined in the round-house, the room down stairs being too
close. The Captain and Colonel ---- joined us afterwards, and began
drinking champagne, and induced us to do the same. As evening came on,
the whole of the passengers 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 I was tired; dozed, and finally came to bed. Bed! quotha! 'tis a
frightful misapplication of terms. Oh for a bed! a real bed; any manner
of bed but a bed on shipboard! And yet I have seen some fair things: I
have seen a universe of air and water; I have seen the glorious sun come
and look down upon this rolling sapphire; I have seen the moon throw
her silver columns along the watery waste; I have seen one lonely ship
in her silent walk across this wilderness, meet another, greet her, and
pass her, like a dream, on the wide deep; I have seen the dark world of
waters at midnight open its mysterious mantle beneath our ship's prow,
and show below another dazzling world of light. I have seen, what I
would not but have seen, though I have left my very soul behind me.
England, dear, dear England! oh, for a handful of your earth!
_Thursday, 16th._
Another day, another day! the old fellow posts as well over water as
over land! Rose at about half-past eight, went up to the round-house;
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 detailed some
of the initiatory ceremonies, which appear to me so incredibly foolish,
that I can scarce believe them, even making mankind a handsome allowance
for absurdity. I soon perceived that the discussion was likely to prove
a serious one, for in America, it seems, 'tis made a political question;
and our Boston friend, and the Jacksonite, fell to rather sharply about
it. The temperance of the former, however, by retreating from the field,
spared us further argumentation. One thing I marvel at:--are the
institutions of men stronger to bind men, than those of God; and does
masonry effect good, which Christianity does not?--a silly query, by the
way; for doubtless men act the good, but forbear to act the evil, before
each other's eyes; which they think nothing of doing, or leaving undone,
under those of God.
Gossiped till lunch-time; afterwards took up Childe Harold,--commend me
to that! I thought of dear H----. She admires Byron more than I do; and
yet how wildly I did, how deeply I do still, worship his might, majesty,
and loveliness. We dined up stairs, and after dinner, I and Mr. ----
look a long walk on deck; talking flimsy morality, and philosophy, the
text of which were generalities, but all the points individualities: I
was amused in my heart at him and myself. He'd a good miss of me at
----: Heaven knows, I was odious enough! and therein his informer was
right. The day was bright, and bitter cold,--the sea blue, and
transparent as that loveliest line in Dante,
"Dolce color di oriental zaffiro,"
with a lining of pearly foam, and glittering spray, that enchanted me.
Came and sat down again:--wrote doggerel for the captain's album, about
the captain's ship, which, when once I am out of her, I'll swear I love
infinitely. Read aloud to them some of Byron's short poems, and that
glorious hymn to the sea, in Childe Harold:--mercy, how fine it is! Lay
under our canvass shed till nine o'clock:--the stars were brilliant in
the intense blue sky, the wind had dropped, the ship lay still--we sang
a song or two, supped, and came in; where, after inditing two
rhapsodies, we came to bed.
_Friday, 17th._
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 Athenæum, 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, 'tis as well it should have been felt as keenly as it
was.--Ate nothing but figs and raisins; in the evening some of our
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 overtook me.
_Saturday, 18th._
Rose at about half-past eight, dawdled about as usual, breakfasted in
the round-house--by the by, before I got out of bed, read a few more
pages of Byron's life. I don't exactly understand the species of
sentimental _galimatias_ Moore talks about Byron's writing with the same
penfull of ink, "Adieu, adieu, my native land!" and "Hurra! Hodgson, we
are going." It proves nothing except what I firmly believe, that we must
not look for the real feelings of writers in 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.
* * * * *
Our company consists chiefly of traders in cloth and hardware, clerks,
and counting-house men--a species with but few peculiarities of interest
to me, who cannot talk pounds, shillings, and pence, as glibly as less
substantial trash. Most of them have crossed this trifling ditch half a
dozen times in their various avocations. But though they belong to the
same sort generally, they differ enough individually for the amusement
of observation. That poor widower, whose remarks on the starry inside of
the sea attracted my attention the other evening, put into my hands
to-day a couple of pretty little books enough; a sort of hotch-potch,
or, to speak more sweetly, pot-pourri praise of women--passages selected
from various authors who have done us the honour to remember us in their
good commendations. 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 sundry more passages on this subject,
particularly from my oracle. Mr. ---- read to us after lunch, and we sat
very happily under our _yawning_ till the rain drove us in. No wind, the
sea one rippleless sheet of lead, and the sky just such another. Our
main-top gallant-mast had been split in one of our late blows, and I
went out in the rain to see them restore the spar. Towards evening the
wind faired and freshened, in consequence of which our gentlemen's
spirits rose; and presently, in spite of the rain, they were dancing,
singing, and romping like mad things on the quarter-deck. It was
Saturday--holiday on board ship--the men were all 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 and wives!" I drank in my
heart--"Home and dear H----." One thing amused me a good deal:--the
Captain proposed as a toast, "The Ladies--God bless them," which
accordingly was being duly drunk, when I heard, close to my elbow, a
devout, half audible--"and the Lord deliver us!" This, from a man with a
face like one of Retsch's most grotesque etchings, and an expression
half humorous, half terrified, sent me into fits of laughter. They sang
a song or two, and at twelve we left them to their meditations, which
presently reached our ears in the sound, not shape, of "Health to
Bacchus," in full chorus, to which tune I said my prayers.
_Sunday, 19th._
Did not rise till late--dressed and came on deck. The morning was
brilliant; the sea, bold, bright, dashing its snowy crests against our
ship's sides, and flinging up a cloud of glittering spray round the
prow. I breakfasted--and then 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
uttered by millions of kindred tongues in our dear home. There was
something, too, impressive and touching in this momentary union of
strangers, met but for a passing day, to part, 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 common faith that thus gathered our company, unknown and unconnected
by any one worldly interest or bond, to utter the same words of praise
and supplication, to think perhaps the same thoughts of humble and
trustful dependence on God's great goodness in this our pilgrimage to
foreign lands, to yearn perhaps with the same affection and earnest
imploring of blessings towards our native soil and its beloved ones left
behind.--Oh, how I felt all this, as we spoke aloud that touching
invocation, which is always one of my most earnest prayers, "Almighty
God, who hast promised when two or three are gathered together in thy
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 'twas
good--oh! very, very good!
* * * * *
'Tis 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 to-day,
borne from the gulf stream; I longed to have it, for it told of land:
gulls too came wheeling about, and the little 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 stretched 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 fell like a cataract
of rubies under the red sunlight. We sat there till evening came down:
the sea, from brilliant azure, grew black as unknown things, the wind
freshened, and we left our cold stand to walk, or rather run, up and
down the deck to warm 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 were but drawn across a
universe of light. Mercy, how strange it was! We stood at the stern,
watching the milky wake the ship left as she stole through the eddying
waters. Came back to our gipsy encampment, where, by the light of a
lantern, we 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 them hoist a
main-top-royal sail, which looked very pretty as it was unreefed against
the clear sky.
_Monday, 20th._
Calm--utter calm--a roasting August sun, a waveless sea, the sails
flapping idly against the mast, and our black cradle rocking to and fro
without progressing a step. They lowered the boat, and went out
rowing--I wanted to go, but they would not let me! A brig was standing
some four miles off us, which, by the by, I was the first to see, except
our mate, in my morning watch, which began at five o'clock, when I saw
the moon set and the sun rise, and feel more than ever convinced that
absolute reality is away from the purpose of works of art. The sky this
morning was as like the sea shore as ever sand and shingle were, the
clouds lying along the horizon in pale dusky yellow layers, and higher
up, floating in light brown ribbed masses, like the sands which grow
wrinkled under the eternal smiling of the sea. Against the dim horizon,
which blended with the violet-coloured sky, the mate then showed me,
through the glass, the 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
much trouble, read a canto in Dante, ending with a valuation of fame. "O
spirito gentil!" how lived fair wisdom in your soul--how shines she in
your lays!--Wrote journal, walked about, worked at my cap, in the
evening danced merrily enough, quadrilles, country dances, La
Boulangère, and the monaco; fairly danced myself tired. Came to bed. But
oh! not to sleep--mercy, what a night! The wind blowing like mad, the
sea rolling, the ship pitching, bouncing, shuddering, and reeling, like
a thing possessed. I lay awake, listening to her creaking and groaning,
till two o'clock, when, sick of my sleepless berth, I got up and was
going up stairs, to see, at least, how near drowning we were, when
D----, who was lying awake too, implored me to lie down again. I did so
for the hundred and eleventh time, complaining bitterly that I should be
stuffed down in a loathsome berth, cabined, cribbed, confined, while the
sea was boiling below, and the wind bellowing above us. Lay till
daylight, the gale 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 women
were immediately apparent from their respective cribs, and poor H----
appeared in all her lengthy full-length, and came and took refuge with
me. As I held her in my arms, and put my cloak round her, she shook from
head to foot, poor child!--I was not the least frightened, but rather
excited by this invasion of Dan Neptune's; but I wish to goodness I had
been on deck.--Oh, how I wish I had seen that spoonful of salt water
flung from the sea's boiling bowl! I heard afterwards, that it had
nearly washed away poor Mr. ----, besides handsomely ducking and
frightening our military man. Lay all day on my back, most wretched, the
ship heaving like any earthquake; in fact, there is something
irresistibly funny in the way in which people seem dispossessed of their
power of volition by this motion, rushing hither and thither in all
directions but the one they purpose going, and making as many angles,
fetches, and sidelong deviations from the 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!
_Wednesday, 22d._
A fair wind--a fine day--though very very cold and damp. It seems, in
our squall last night, we had also a small piece of mutiny. During the
mate's watch, and while the storm was at the worst, the man who was
steering left the helm, and refused to obey orders; whereupon Mr. Curtis
took up a hatchet, and assured him he would knock his brains out,--which
the captain said, had it been his watch, he should have done on the
spot, and without further warning. We are upon the Newfoundland banks,
though not yet on soundings. Stitched my gown--worked at my
nightcap--walked about:--Mr. ---- read Quentin Durward to us while we
worked. The extreme cold made us take refuge in our cabin, where I sat
working and singing till dinner-time. Dined at table again; afterwards
came back to our cabin--began writing journal, and was interrupted by
hearing a bustle in the dinner-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 to moral worth
and mental power! Poor, poor Sir Walter! And yet no prayer that can be
breathed to bless, no grateful and soul felt 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 yet--fame is something. His fame is good--is great--is
glorious. To be enshrined in the hearts of all virtuous and wise men, as
the friend of virtue and the teacher of wisdom; to have freely given
pleasure, happiness, forgetfulness, to millions of his fellow-creatures;
to have made excellence lovely, and enjoyment pure and salutary; to have
taught none but lessons of honour and integrity; to have surrounded his
memory, and filled the minds of all men with images fair, and bright,
and wonderful, yet left around his name no halo, and in the hearts of
others no slightest cloud to blot these enchanting creations; to have
done nothing but good with God's good gifts--is not this fame worth
something? 'Tis worth man's love, and God's approval--'tis worth
toiling for, living for, and dying for. He has earned it fairly--he is a
great and good man--peace be with him in his hour of mortal sorrow, and
eternal peace hereafter in the heaven to which he surely goes. They then
drank Washington Irving,--a gentle spirit, too. After working for some
time more, came on deck, where we danced with infinite glee, disturbed
only by the surpassing uproar of Colonel ----.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The only of our crew whom I cotton to fairly, are the ----, and that
good-natured lad, Mr. ----: though the former rather distress me by
their abundant admiration, and the latter by his inveterate Yorkshire,
and never opening his mouth when he sings, which, as he has a very sweet
voice, is a cruel piece of selfishness, keeping half his tones, and all
his words, for his own private satisfaction.
_Thursday, 23d._
On soundings, and nearly off them again--a fine day;--worked at my
nightcap--another, by the by, having finished one--exemplary!--Walked
about, ate, drank, wrote journal--read some of it to the ----, who
seemed much gratified by my doing so. I go on with Byron's life. He is
loo much of an egotist. I do not like him a bit the better for knowing
his prose mind;--far from thinking it redeems any of the errors of his
poetical man, I think I never read any thing professing to be a person's
undisguised feelings and opinions, with so much heartlessness--so little
goodness in it. His views of society are like his views of human nature;
or rather, by the by, reverse the sentence, to prove the fallacy in
judgment; and though his satire is keen and true, yet he is nothing but
satirical--never, never serious and earnest, even with himself. Oh! I
have a horror of that sneering devil of Goethe's; and he seems to me to
have possessed Byron utterly. A curious thought, or rather a fantastical
shadow of a thought, occurred to me to-day in reading a chapter in the
Corinthians about the resurrection. I mean to be buried with H----'s
ring on my finger; will it be there when I rise again?--What a question
for the discussers of the needle's point controversy! My father read to
us, this afternoon, part of one of Webster's speeches. It was very
eloquent, but yet it did not fulfil my idea of perfect oratory--inasmuch
as I thought it too pictorial:--there was too much scenery and
decoration about it, to use the cant of my own trade;--there was too
much effect, theatrical effect in it, from which Heaven defend me, for I
do loathe it _in_ its place, and fifty times worse out of it. Perhaps
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
perceive 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--'tis 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.--I
was considerably amused, and my English blood a little roused at a very
good-natured and well-meant caution of Mr. ----, to avoid making an
enemy of Colonel ----. He is, they say, a party man, having influence
which he may exert to our detriment.
_Friday, 24th._
Rose late after a fair night's sleep--came up to the round-house. After
breakfast, worked and walked for an immense time. Read a canto in Dante:
just as I had finished it, "A sail! a sail!" was cried from all
quarters. Remembering my promise to dear H----, I got together my
writing-materials, and scrawled her a few incoherent lines full of my
very heart. The vessel bore rapidly down upon us, but as there was no
prospect of either her or our lying-to, Mr. ---- tied my missive,
together with one Mr. ---- had just scribbled, to a lump of lead, and
presently we all rushed on deck to see the ship pass us. She was an
English packet, from Valparaiso, bound to London; her foremast had been
carried away, but she was going gallantly before the wind. As she passed
us, Mr. ---- got up into the boat, to have a better chance of throwing.
I saw him fling powerfully,--the little packet whizzed through the air,
but the distance was impossible, and the dark waters received it within
twenty feet of the ship, which sailed rapidly on, and had soon left us
far behind. I believe I screamed, as the black sea closed over my poor
letter.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Came down to my cabin and cried like a wretch--came up again, and found
them all at lunch. Went and lay on the bowsprit, watching the fair ship
courtesying through the bright sea with all her sail set, a gallant and
graceful sight. Came in--wrote journal--translated a German fable.
Worked at my cap, while my father went on with Webster's speech. I am
still of the same mind about it, though some of the passages he read
to-day were finer than any I had heard before. He gets over a shallow
descent with admirable plausibility--and yet I think I would rather be
descended from a half heathen Saxon giant, than from William Penn
himself. We dined at table again; D---- could not: she was ill. After
dinner, sat working for some time;--I had a horrid sick 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 themselves, and rolling
sullenly towards us, till they broke in silver clouds against the ship,
and sprang above her sides, covering us with spray. The sky had grown
mirk as 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 speculation, I was obliged to leave it,
and my companions. Came down and went to bed.--Oh horror! loathsome
life!--
_Saturday and Sunday._
Towards evening got up and came on deck:--tremendous head wind, going
off our course; pray Heaven we don't make an impromptu landing on Sable
Island! Sat on the ship's side, watching the huge ocean gathering itself
up into pitchy mountains, and rolling its vast ridges, one after
another, against the good ship, who dipped, and dipped, and dived down
into the black chasm, and then sprang up again, and rode over the
swelling surges like an empress. The sky was a mass of stormy black,
here and there edged with a copper-looking cloud, and breaking in one or
two directions into pale silvery strata, that had an unhealthy lightning
look: a heavy black squall lay ahead of us, like a dusky curtain, whence
we saw the rain, fringe-like, pouring down against the horizon. The wind
blew furiously. I got cradled among the ropes, so as not to be pitched
off when the ship lurched, and enjoyed it all amazingly. It was sad and
solemn, and, but for the excitement of the savage-looking waves, 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
thus--Ja-a-a-a--Ja-a-a-a--fol-de-riddle--cob!--
_Monday, 26th._
Read Byron's life;--defend me from my friends! Rose tolerably late;
after breakfast, took a walk on deck--lay and slept under our sea-tent;
read on until lunch-time--dined on deck. After dinner walked about with
H---- and the captain; we had seated ourselves on the ship's side, but
he being called away, we rushed off to the forecastle to enjoy the
starlight by ourselves. We sat for a little time, but were soon found
out; Mr. ---- and Mr. ---- joined us, and we sat till near twelve
o'clock, singing and rocking under the stars. Venus--"The star of love,
all stars above,"--threw a silver column down the sea, like the younger
sister of the moon's reflection. By the by, I saw to-day, and with
delight, an American sunset. The glorious god strode down heaven's hill,
without a cloud to dim his downward path;--as his golden disk touched
the panting sea, I turned my head away, and in less than a minute he had
fallen beneath the horizon--leapt down into the warm waves, and left one
glow of amber round half the sky; upon whose verge, where the violet
curtain of twilight came spreading down to meet its golden fringe,
"The maiden,
With white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the moon,"
stood, with her silver lamp in her hand, and her pale misty robes
casting their wan lustre 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'st o'er the rocking cradle of the world,
Oh! be thou darker to my dreaming eyes,
Nor, in my slumbers, be the past unfurl'd.
Haunt me no more with whisperings from the dead.
The dead in heart, the changed, the withered:
Bring me no more sweet blossoms from my spring,
Which round my soul their early fragrance fling,
And, when the morning, with chill icy start,
Wakes me, hang blighted round my aching heart:
Oh night, and slumber, be ye visionless,
Dark as the grave, deep as forgetfulness!
* * * * *
* * * * *
Night, thou shalt nurse me, but be sure, good nurse,
While sitting by my bed, that thou art silent;
I will not let thee sing me to my slumbers
With the sweet lullabies of former times,
Nor tell me tales, as other gossips wont,
Of the strange fairy days, that are all gone.
_Wednesday, 28th._
Skipped writing on Tuesday--so much the better--a miserable day spent
between heart-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, stitching.
It was intensely hot till about two o'clock, when a full east wind came
on, which the sailors all blessed, but which shook from its cold wings a
heavy, clammy, chilly dew, that presently pierced all our clothes, and
lay on the deck like rain. At dinner we were very near having a scene:
the Bostonian and the Jacksonite falling out again about the President;
and a sharp, quick, snapping conversation, which degenerated into a
snarl on one side, and a growl on the other, for a short time rather
damped the spirits of the table. Here, at least, General Jackson seems
very unpopular, and half the company echoed in 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.
* * * * *
Finished my work, and then, tying on sundry veils and handkerchiefs,
danced on deck for some time;--I then walked about with ----, by the
light of the prettiest young moon imaginable.
* * * * *
Afterwards sat working and stifling in the round-house till near ten,
and then, being no longer able to endure the heat, came down, undressed,
and sat luxuriously on the ground in my dressing-gown drinking lemonade.
At twelve went to bed; the men kept up a horrible row on deck half the
night; singing, dancing, whooping, and running over our heads.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The captain brought me to-day a land-swallow, which, having flown out so
far, came hovering exhausted over the ship, and suffered itself to be
caught. Poor little creature! how very much more I do love all things
than men and women! I felt sad to death for its weary little wings and
frightened heart, which beat against my hand, 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, 29th._
My poor little bird is dead. I am sorry! I could mourn almost as much
over the death of a soulless animal, as I would rejoice at that of a
brute with a soul. Life is to these winged things a pure enjoyment; and
to see the rapid pinions folded, and the bright eye filmed, conveys
sadness to the heart, for 'tis almost like looking on--what indeed is
not--utter cessation of existence. Poor little creature! I wished it had
not died--I would but have borne it tenderly and carefully to shore, and
given it back to the air again!
* * * * *
I sat down stairs in my cabin all day; the very spirit of doggerel
possessed me, and I poured forth rhymes as rapidly as possible, and they
were as bad as possible.--Wrote journal; in looking over my papers, fell
in with the Star of Seville--some of it is very good. I'll write an
English tragedy next. Dined at table--our heroes have drunk wine, and
are amicable. After dinner, went on deck, and took a short walk; saw the
sun set, which he did like a god, as he is, leaving the sky like a
geranium curtain, which overshadowed the sea with rosy light--beautiful!
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 Danaïdes' tub, of credible memory.
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Friday, 30th._
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 Adventures 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 burthen of years,
From sin, from sorrow,
From sad "to-morrow,"
From struggling and creeping:
Why art thou weeping,
Oh fool, for the dead?
Why art thou weeping
Over the steadfast faithful dead,
Who can never change,
Nor grow cold and strange,
Nor turn away,
In a single day,
From the love they bore,
And the faith they swore;
Who are true for ever,
Will slight thee never,
But love thee still,
Through good and ill,
With the constancy
Of eternity:
Why art thou weeping,
Oh fool, for the dead?
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, 31st._
Becalmed again till about two o'clock, when a fair wind sprang up, and
we set to rolling before it like mad. How curious it is to see the ship,
like a drunken man, reel through the waters, pursued by that shrill
scold the wind! Worked at my handkerchief, and read aloud to them Mrs.
Jameson's book.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Set my foot half into a discussion about Portia, but withdrew it in
time. Lord bless us! what foul nonsense people do talk, and what much
fouler nonsense it is to answer them. Got very sick, and lay on the
ground till dinner-time; went to table, but withdrew again while it was
yet in my power to do so gracefully. Lay on the floor all the evening,
singing for very sea-sickness; suddenly it occurred to me, that it was
our last Saturday night on board; whereupon I indited a song to the tune
of "To Ladies' eyes a round, boys,"--and having duly instructed Mr. ----
how to "speak the speech," we went to supper. _Last_--_last_--dear, 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
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 the author, the whole table was aware of the
genius that sat among them. They afterwards sang a clever parody of "To
all ye ladies now 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 hundred and fifty
miles of New York, which intelligence was received with three cheers.
They continued to sing and shout till very late.