vaggaries, vagaries.
ad infinnitum, ad infinitum.
vitupperate, vituperate.
_Monday, October 1st._
While I was out, Captain ---- called for our letters. Saw Mr. ----, and
bade him good-by: they are going away to-day to Havre, to Europe; I wish
I was a nail in one of their trunks. After breakfast, went to rehearse
King John: what a lovely mess they will make of it, to be sure! When my
sorrows were ended, my father brought me home: found a most lovely
nosegay from Mr. ---- awaiting me. Bless it! how sweet it smelt, and how
pretty it looked. Spent an hour delightfully in putting it into water.
Got things ready for to-night, practised till dinner, and wrote journal.
My father received a letter to-day, informing him that a cabal was
forming by the friends of Miss Vincent and Miss Clifton (native talent!)
to hiss us off the New York stage, if possible; if not, to send people
in every night to create a disturbance during our best scenes: the
letter is anonymous, and therefore little deserving of attention. After
dinner, practised till time to go to the theatre. The house was very
full; but what a cast! what a play! what botchers! what butchers! In his
very first scene, the most christian king stuck fast; and there he
stood, shifting his truncheon from hand to hand, rolling his eyes,
gasping for breath, and struggling for words, like a man in the
night-mare. I thought of Hamlet--"Leave thy damnable faces"--and was
obliged to turn away. In the scene before Angiers, when the French and
English heralds summon the citizens to the walls, the Frenchman applied
his instrument to his mouth, uplifted his chest, distended his cheeks,
and appeared to blow furiously; not a sound! he dropped his arm, and
looked off the stage in discomfiture and indignation, when the perverse
trumpet set up a blast fit to waken the dead,--the audience roared: it
reminded me of the harp in the old ballad, that "began to play alone."
Chatillon, on his return from England, begged to assure us that with
King John was come the mother queen, an _Anty_ stirring him to blood and
war. When Cardinal Pandulph came on, the people set up a shout, as
usual: he was dreadfully terrified, poor thing; and all the time he
spoke kept giving little nervous twitches to his sacred petticoat, in a
fashion that was enough to make one die of laughter. He was as
obstinate, too, in his bewilderment as a stuttering man in his
incoherency; for once, when he stuck fast, having twitched his skirts,
and thumped his breast in vain for some time, I thought it best, having
to speak next, to go on; when, lo and behold! in the middle of my
speech, the "scarlet sin" recovers his memory, and shouts forth the end
of his own, to the utter confusion of my august self and the audience. I
thought they never would have got through my last scene: king gazed at
cardinal, and cardinal gazed at king; king nodded and winked at the
prompter, spread out his hands, and remained with his mouth open:
cardinal nodded and winked at the prompter, crossed his hands on his
breast, and remained with his mouth open; neither of them uttering a
syllable! What a scene! O, what a glorious scene! Came home as soon as
my part was over. Supped, and sat up for my father. Heard his account of
the end, and came to bed.[19]
_Wednesday, 3d._
Rose late. After breakfast, went to rehearsal: what a mess I do make of
Bizarre! Ellen Tree and Mrs. Chatterly were angels to what I shall be,
yet I remember thinking them both bad enough. After all, if people
generally did but know the difficulty of doing well, they would be less
damnatory upon those who do ill. It is not easy to act well. After
rehearsal, went to Stewart's with D----. As we were proceeding up
Broadway to Bonfanti's,[20] I saw a man in the strangest attitude
imaginable, absolutely setting at us: presently he pounced, and who
should it be but ----. He came into Bonfanti's with us, and afterwards
insisted on escorting us to our various destinations; not, however,
without manifold and deep lamentations on his slovenly appearance and
dirty gloves. The latter, however, he managed to exchange, _chemin
faisant_, for a pair of new ones, which he extracted from his pocket and
drew on, without letting go our arms, which he squeezed most
unmercifully during the operation. We went through a part of the town
which I had never seen before. The shops have all a strange fair-like
appearance, and exhibit a spectacle of heterogeneous disorder, which
greatly amazes the eye of a Londoner. The comparative infancy in which
most of the adornments of life are yet in this country, renders it
impossible for the number of distinct trades to exist that do among us,
where the population is so much denser, and where the luxurious
indulgences of the few find ample occupation for the penurious industry
of the many. But here, one man drives several trades; and in every shop
you meet with a strange incongruous mixture of articles for sale, which
would be found nowhere in England, but in the veriest village
huckster's. Comparatively few of the objects for sale can be exposed in
the windows, which are, unlike our shop windows, narrow and ill adapted
for the display of goods: but piles of them lie outside the doors,
choking up the pathway, and coloured cloths, flannels, shawls, etc., are
suspended about in long draperies, whose vivid colours flying over the
face of the houses give them an untidy, but at the same time a gay,
flaunting appearance. We went into a shop to buy some stockings, and
missing our _preux chevalier_, I turned round to look for him; when I
perceived him beautifying most busily before a glass in a further corner
of the shop. He had seized on a sort of house brush, and began brooming
his hat: the next operation was to produce a small pocket-comb and
arrange his disordered locks; lastly, he transferred the services of the
brush of all work from his head to his feet, and having dusted his
boots, drawn himself up in his surtout, buttoned its two lower buttons,
and given a reforming grasp to his neckcloth, he approached us,
evidently much advanced in his own good graces. We went to the
furrier's, and brought away my dark boa. Came home, put out things for
packing up, and remained so engaged till time to dress for dinner. Mr.
and Mrs. ---- and Mr. ---- dined with us.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Mr. ---- is an Englishman of the high breed, and sufficiently pleasant.
After dinner we had to withdraw into our bed-room, for the house is so
full that they can't cram any thing more into an inch of it.
Joined the gentlemen at tea. Mr. ---- had gone to the theatre: Mr. ----
and I had some music. He plays delightfully, and knows every note of
music that ever was written; but he had the barbarity to make me sing a
song of his own composing to him, which is a cruel thing in a man to do.
He went away at about eleven, and we then came to bed. My father went to
see Miss Clifton, at the Bowery theatre.
_Thursday, 4th._
Rose late. After breakfast, went to rehearsal: my Bizarre is getting a
little more into shape. After rehearsal, came home. Mr. ---- and Mr.
---- called, and sat some time with me. The former is tolerably
pleasant, but a little too fond of telling good stories that he has told
before. Put out things for the theatre: dined at three. Colonel
---- called. Wrote journal: while doing so, was called out to look at my
gown, which the worthy milliner had sent home.
I am, I am an angel! Witness it, heaven!
Witness it earth, and every being witness it!
The gown was spoil'd! Yet by immortal patience
I did not even fly into a passion.
She took it back to alter it. Presently arrived my wreath, and that had
also to be taken back; for 't was nothing like what I had ordered. Now
all this does not provoke me; but the thing that does, is the dreadful
want of manners of the tradespeople here. They bolt into your room
without knocking, nod to you, sit down, and without the preface of
either Sir, Ma'am, or Miss, start off into "Well now, I'm come to speak
about so and so." At six, went to the theatre; play, the Hunchback: the
house was crammed from floor to ceiling. I had an intense headach, but
played tolerably well. I wore my red satin, and looked like a bonfire.
Came home and found Smith's Virginia, and two volumes of Graham's
America, which I want to read. They charge twelve dollars for these:
every thing is horribly dear here. Came to bed with my head splitting.
_Friday, 5th._
Played Bizarre for the first time. Acted so-so, looked very pretty, the
house was very fine, and my father incomparable: they called for him
after the play. Colonel ---- and Mr. ---- called in while we were at
supper.
_Saturday, 6th._
Rose late: when I came in to breakfast, found Colonel ---- sitting in
the parlour. He remained for a long time, and we had sundry discussions
on topics manifold. It seems that the blessed people here were shocked
at my having to hear the coarseness of Farquhar's
Inconstant--humbug![21]
* * * * *
* * * * *
At twelve, went out shopping, and paying bills; called upon Mrs. ----,
and sat some time with her and Mrs. ----; left a card at Mrs. ----'s,
and came home, prepared things for our journey, and dressed for dinner.
On our way to Mr. ----'s, my father told me he had been seeing Miss
Clifton, the girl they want him to teach to act; (to _teach_ to act,
quotha!!!) He says, she is very pretty indeed, with fine eyes, a fair
delicate skin, and a handsome mouth; moreover, a tall woman, and yet
from the front of the house her effect is nought. What a pity, and a
provoking! A pleasant dinner, very. Mr. ---- the poet, one Dr. ----,
Colonel ----, and Mr. ----: the only woman was a Miss ----.
* * * * *
* * * * *
----'s face reminded me of young ----: the countenance was not quite so
good, but there was the same radiant look about the eyes and forehead.
His expression was strongly sarcastic; I liked him very much
notwithstanding. When we left the men, we had the pleasure of the
children's society, and that of an unhappy kitten, whom a little
pitiless urchin of three years old was carrying crumpled under her arm
like a pincushion. The people here make me mad by abusing Lawrence's
drawing of me. If ever there was a refined and intellectual work, where
the might of genius triumphing over every material impediment has
enshrined and embodied spirit itself, it is that. Talking of Lawrence,
(poor Lawrence!) Mrs. ---- said, "Ah, yes! your picture
by--a--Sir--something--Lawrence!" Oh, fame! oh, fame! Oh, vanity and
vexation of spirit! does your eternity and your infinitude amount to
this? There are lands where Shakspeare's name was never heard, where
Raphael and Handel are unknown; to be sure, for the matter of that,
there are regions (and those wide ones too) where Jesus Christ is
unknown. At nine o'clock, went to the Richmond Hill theatre, to see the
opening of the Italian company. The house itself is a pretty little box
enough, but as bad as a box to sing in. We went to Mr. ----'s box, where
he was kind enough to give us seats. The first act was over, but we had
all the benefit of the second. I had much ado not to laugh: and when Mr.
----, that everlasting giggler, came and sat down beside me, I gave
myself up for lost. However, I did behave, in spite of two blue-bottles
of women, who by way of the sisters buzzed about the stage, singing
enough to set one's teeth on edge. Then came a very tall Dandini; by the
by, that man had a good bass voice, but Mr. ---- said it was the finest
he had heard since _Zucchelli_. O tempora! O mores! Zucchelli, that
prince of delicious baritones! However, as I said, the man has a good
bass voice; there was also a sufficiently good Pompolino. Montresor
banged himself about, broke his time, and made some execrable flourishes
in the Prince, whereat the enlightened New Yorkians applauded mightily.
But the Prima Donna! but the Cenerentola! Cospetto di Venere, what a
figure, and what a face! Indeed she was the very thing for a lower
housemaid, and I think the Prince was highly to blame for removing her
from the station nature had evidently intended her for. She was old and
ugly, and worse than ugly, unpardonably common-looking, with a cast in
her eye, and a foot that, as Mr. ---- observed, it would require a
_pretty considerable_ large glass slipper to fit. Then she
sang--discords and dismay, how she did sing! I could not forbear
stealing a glance at ----: he applauded the sestett vehemently; but when
it came to that most touching "_nacqui al' affanno_," he wisely
interposed his handkerchief between the stage and his gracious
countenance. I thought of poor dear ----, and her sweet voice, and her
refined taste, and shuddered to hear this favourite of hers bedevilled
by such a Squalini. Now is it possible that people can be such fools as
to fancy this good in spite of their senses, or such earless asses
(that's a bull I suppose), as to suffer themselves to be persuaded that
it is? Though why do I ask it? Oh yes, "very easily possible." Do not
half the people in London spend money and time without end, enduring
nightly penances--listening to what they can't understand, and couldn't
appreciate if they did? I suppose if I shall allow a hundred out of the
whole King's Theatre audience to know any thing whatever about music, I
am wide in my grant of comprehension. There was that virtuous youth, Mr.
----, who evidently ranks as one of the cognoscenti here, who exclaimed
triumphantly at the end of one of the perpetrations, "Well, after all,
there's nothing like Rossini." Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and
Weber, are _not_, that is certain.[22] I wish I could have seen Mr. ----
during that finale. Coming out, were joined by Mr. ----: brought him
home in the carriage with us. Gave him "Ye mariners of Spain," and some
cold tongue, to take the taste of the Cenerentola out of his mouth. He
stayed some time. I like him enough: he is evidently a clever man,
though he does murder the King's English. (By the by, does _English_,
the tongue, belong, in America, to the King or the President--I wonder?
I should rather think, from my limited observations, that it was the
individual property of every freeborn citizen of the United States.)
Now, what on earth can I say to the worthy citizens, if they ask me what
I thought of the Italian opera? That it was very amusing--yes, that will
do nicely; that will be true, and not too direct a condemnation of their
good taste.
_Sunday, 7th._
Rose late. Young ---- breakfasted with us. How unfortunately plain he
is! His voice is marvellously like his father's, and it pleased me to
hear him speak therefore. He was talking to my father about the various
southern and western theatres, and bidding us expect to meet strange
coadjutors in those lost lands beyond the world. On one occasion, he
said, when he was acting Richard the Third, some of the underlings kept
their hats on while he was on the stage, whereat ---- remonstrated,
requesting them in a whisper to uncover, as they were in the presence of
a king; to which admonition he received the following characteristic
reply: "Fiddlestick! I guess we know nothing about kings in this
country." Colonel ---- called too; but D---- and I went off to church,
and left my father to entertain them. Met Mr. ---- and Mr. ----, who
were coming to fetch us: went to Mr. ----'s pew. The music was very
delightful; but decidedly I do not like music in church. The less my
senses are appealed to in the house of prayer, the better for me and my
devotions. Although I have experienced excitement of a stern and
martial, and sometimes of a solemn, nature, from music, yet these melt
away, and its abiding influence with me is of a much softer kind:
therefore, in church, I had rather dispense with it, particularly when
they sing psalms, as they did to-day, to the tune of "Come dwell with
me, and be my love." I did not like the sermon much; there was effect in
it, painting, which I dislike. Staid the sacrament, the first I have
taken in this strange land. Mr. ---- walked home with us: when he was
gone, Mr. ---- and Mr. ---- called. When they had all taken their
departure, settled accounts, wrote journal, wrote to my mother, came and
put away sundry things, and dressed for dinner. My father dined with
Mr. ----: D---- and I dined _tête-à-tête_. Colonel ---- came twice
through the pouring rain to look after our baggage for to-morrow; such
charity is unexampled.
_Monday, 8th._
Rose (oh, horror!) at a quarter to five. Night was still brooding over
the earth. Long before I was dressed, the first voice I heard was that
of Colonel ----, come to look after our luggage, and see us off. To lend
my friend a thousand pounds (if I had it) I could--to lend him my horse,
perhaps I might; but to get up in the middle of the night, and come
dawdling in the grey cold hour of the morning upon damp quays, and among
dusty packages, except for my own flesh and blood, I could not. Yet this
worthy man did it for us; whence I pronounce that he must be half a
Quaker himself, for no common episcopal benevolence could stretch this
pitch. Dressed, and gathered together my things, and at six o'clock,
just as the night was folding its soft black wings, and rising slowly
from the earth, we took our departure from that mansion of little ease,
the American, and our fellow-lodgers the ants, and proceeded to the
Philadelphia steam-boat, which started from the bottom of Barclay
Street. We were recommended to this American Hotel as the best and most
comfortable in New York; and truly the charges were as high as one could
have paid at the Clarendon, in the land of comfort and taxation. The
wine was exorbitantly dear; champagne and claret about eleven shillings
sterling a bottle; sherry, port, and madeira, from nine to thirteen. The
rooms were a mixture of French finery and Irish disorder and dirt; the
living was by no means good; the whole house being conducted on a close
scraping system of inferior accommodations and extravagant charges. On a
sudden influx of visiters, sitting-rooms were converted into bed-rooms,
containing four and five beds. The number of servants was totally
inadequate to the work; and the articles of common use, such as knives
and spoons, were so scantily provided, that when the public table was
very full one day, the knives and forks for our dinner were obliged to
be washed from theirs; and the luxury of a carving-knife was not to be
procured at all on that occasion: it is true that they had sometimes as
many as two hundred and fifty guests at the ordinary. The servants, who,
as I said before, were just a quarter as many as the house required, had
no bed-rooms allotted to them, but slept _about_ any where, in the
public rooms, or on sofas in drawing-rooms, let to private families. In
short, nothing can exceed the want of order, propriety, and comfort in
this establishment, except the enormity of the tribute it levies upon
pilgrims and wayfarers through the land.[23] And so, as I said, we
departed therefrom nothing loath.
The morning was dull, dreary, and damp, which I regretted very much. The
steam-boat was very large and commodious, as all these conveyances are.
I enquired of one of the passengers what the power of the engine was: he
replied that he did not exactly know, but that he thought it was about
forty-horse power; and that, when going at speed, the engine struck
thirty times in a minute: this appeared to me a great number in so short
a time; but the weather shortly became wet and drizzly, and I did not
remain on deck to observe. My early rising had made me very sleepy, so I
came down to the third deck to sleep. These steam-boats have three
stories; the upper one is, as it were, a roofing or terrace on the leads
of the second, a very desirable station when the weather is neither too
foul nor too fair; a burning sun being, I should think, as little
desirable there as a shower of rain. The second floor or deck has the
advantage of the ceiling above, and yet, the sides being completely
open, it is airy, and allows free sight of the shores on either hand.
Chairs, stools, and benches, are the furniture of these two decks. The
one below, or third floor downwards, in fact, the _ground floor_, being
the one near the water, is a spacious room completely roofed and walled
in, where the passengers take their meals, and resort if the weather is
unfavourable. At the end of this room is a smaller cabin for the use of
the ladies, with beds and a sofa, and all the conveniences necessary, if
they should like to be sick; whither I came and slept till breakfast
time. Vigne's account of the pushing, thrusting, rushing, and devouring
on board a western steam-boat at meal times had prepared me for rather
an awful spectacle; but this, I find, is by no means the case in these
more civilised parts, and every thing was conducted with perfect order,
propriety, and civility. The breakfast was good, and served and eaten
with decency enough. Came up on the upper deck, and walked about with my
father. The width of the river struck me as remarkable; but the shores
were flat, and for the most part uninteresting, except for the rich and
various tints which the thickets of wood presented, and which are as
superior in brilliancy and intenseness to our autumnal colouring as
their gorgeous skies are to ours. Opposite the town of Amboy, the
Raritan opens into a magnificent lake-like expanse round the extreme
point of Staten Island.[24] As the shores on either side, however, were
not very interesting, I finished reading Combe's book. There is much
sound philosophy in it; but I do not think it altogether establishes the
main point that he wishes to make good--the truth of phrenology, and the
necessity of its being adopted as the only science of the human mind.
His general assertions admit of strong individual exceptions, which, I
think, go far towards invalidating the generality. However, 'tis not a
full development of his own system, but, as it were, only an
introduction to it; and his own admissions of the obscurity and
uncertainty in which that system is still involved necessarily enforces
a suspension of judgment, until its practical results have become more
manifest, and in some measure borne witness to the truth of his theory.
At about half-past ten we reached the place where we leave the river, to
proceed across a part of the State of New Jersey to the Delaware. The
landing was beyond measure wretched: the shore shelved down to the
water's edge; and its marshy, clayey, sticky soil, rendered doubly soft
and squashy by the damp weather, was strewn over with broken potsherds,
stones, and bricks, by way of pathway; these, however, presently failed,
and some slippery planks half immersed in mud were the only roads to the
coaches that stood ready to receive the passengers of the steam-boat.
Oh, these coaches! English eye hath not seen, English ear hath not
heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of Englishmen to conceive the
surpassing clumsiness and wretchedness of these leathern inconveniences.
They are shaped something like boats, the sides being merely leathern
pieces, removable at pleasure, but which, in bad weather, are buttoned
down, to protect the inmates from the wet. There are three seats in this
machine; the middle one, having a movable leathern strap, by way of a
dossier, runs between the carriage doors, and lifts away to permit the
egress and ingress of the occupants of the other seats. Into the one
facing the horses D---- and I put ourselves; presently two young ladies
occupied the opposite one; a third lady, and a gentleman of the same
party, sat in the middle seat, into which my father's huge bulk was also
squeezed; finally, another man belonging to the same party ensconced
himself between the two young ladies. Thus the two seats were filled,
each with three persons, and there should by rights have been a third on
ours; for this nefarious black hole on wheels is intended to carry nine.
However, we profited little by the space, for, letting alone that there
is not really and truly room for more than two human beings of common
growth and proportions on each of these seats, the third place was amply
filled up with baskets and packages of ours, and huge _undoubleableup_
coats and cloaks of my father's.
For the first few minutes I thought I must have fainted from the
intolerable sensation of smothering which I experienced. However, the
leathers having been removed, and a little more air obtained, I took
heart of grace, and resigned myself to my fate. Away wallopped the four
horses, trotting with their front and galloping with their hind legs;
and away went we after them, bumping, thumping, jumping, jolting,
shaking, tossing, and tumbling, over the wickedest road, I do think the
cruellest hard-heartedest road, that ever wheel rumbled upon. Thorough
bog and marsh, and ruts wider and deeper than any christian ruts I ever
saw, with the roots of trees protruding across our path; their boughs
every now and then giving us an affectionate scratch through the
windows; and, more than once, a half-demolished trunk or stump lying in
the middle of the road lifting us up, and letting us down again, with
most awful variations of our poor coach body from its natural position.
Bones of me! what a road![25] Even my father's solid proportions could
not keep their level, but were jerked up to the roof and down again
every three minutes. Our companions seemed nothing dismayed by these
wondrous performances of a coach and four, but laughed and talked
incessantly, the young ladies, at the very top of their voices, and with
the national nasal twang.[26] The conversation was much of the _genteel_
shopkeeper kind; the wit of the ladies, and the gallantry of the
gentlemen, savouring strongly of tapes and yard measures, and the
shrieks of laughter of the whole set enough to drive one into a frenzy.
The ladies were all pretty; two of them particularly so, with delicate
fair complexions, and beautiful grey eyes: how I wish they could have
held their tongues for two minutes! We had not long been in the coach
before one of them complained of being dreadfully sick.[27] This, in
such a space, and with seven near neighbours! Fortunately she was near
the window; and during our whole fourteen miles of purgatory she
alternately leaned from it overcome with sickness, then reclined
languishingly in the arms of her next neighbour, and then, starting up
with amazing vivacity, joined her voice to the treble duet of her two
pretty companions, with a superiority of shrillness that might have been
the pride and envy of Billingsgate. 'Twas enough to bother a rookery!
The country through which we passed was woodland, flat, and without
variety, save what it derived from the wondrous richness and brilliancy
of the autumnal foliage. Here indeed decay is beautiful; and nature
appears more gorgeously clad in this her fading mantle, than in all the
summer's flush of bloom in our less-favoured climates.[28] I noted
several beautiful wild flowers growing among the underwood; some of
which I have seen adorning with great dignity our most cultivated
gardens.[29] None of the trees had any size or appearance of age: they
are the second growth, which have sprung from the soil once possessed by
a mightier race of vegetables. The quantity of mere underwood, and the
number of huge black stumps rising in every direction a foot or two from
the soil, bear witness to the existence of fine forest timber. The few
cottages and farm-houses which we passed reminded me of similar
dwellings in France and Ireland; yet the peasantry here have not the
same excuse for disorder and dilapidation as either the Irish or French.
The farms had the same desolate, untidy, untended look: the gates
broken, the fences carelessly put up, or ill repaired; the
farming-utensils sluttishly scattered about a littered yard, where the
pigs seemed to preside by undisputed right; house-windows broken, and
stuffed with paper or clothes; dishevelled women, and barefooted
anomalous-looking human young things; none of the stirring life and
activity which such places present in England and Scotland; above all,
none of the enchanting mixture of neatness, order, and rustic elegance
and comfort, which render so picturesque the surroundings of a farm, and
the various belongings of agricultural labour in my own dear
country.[30] The fences struck me as peculiar; I never saw any such in
England. They are made of rails of wood placed horizontally, and meeting
at obtuse angles, so forming a zig-zag wall of wood, which runs over the
country like the herring-bone seams of a flannel petticoat. At each of
the angles two slanting stakes, considerably higher than the rest of the
fence, were driven into the ground, crossing each other at the top, so
as to secure the horizontal rails in their position.[31]
There was every now and then a soft vivid strip of turf, along the
road-side, that made me long for a horse. Indeed the whole road would
have been a delightful ride, and was a most bitter drive. At the end of
fourteen miles we turned into a swampy field, the whole fourteen
coachfuls of us, and, by the help of Heaven, bag and baggage were packed
into the coaches which stood on the rail-way ready to receive us. The
carriages were not drawn by steam, like those on the Liverpool rail-way,
but by horses, with the mere advantage in speed afforded by the iron
ledges, which, to be sure, compared with our previous progress through
the ruts, was considerable. Our coachful got into the first carriage of
the train, escaping, by way of especial grace, the dust which one's
predecessors occasion. This vehicle had but two seats, in the usual
fashion; each of which held four of us. The whole inside was lined with
blazing scarlet leather, and the windows _shaded_ with stuff curtains of
the same refreshing colour; which, with full complement of passengers,
on a fine, sunny, American summer's day, must make as pretty a little
miniature hell as may be, I should think. The baggage-waggon, which went
before us, a little obstructed the view. The road was neither pretty nor
picturesque; but still fringed on each side with the many-coloured
woods, whose rich tints made variety even in sameness. This rail-road is
an infinite blessing; 'tis not yet finished, but shortly will be so, and
then the whole of that horrible fourteen miles will be performed in
comfort and decency in less than half the time. In about an hour and a
half we reached the end of our rail-road part of the journey, and found
another steam-boat waiting for us, when we all embarked on the
Delaware. Again, the enormous width of the river struck me with
astonishment and admiration. Such huge bodies of water mark out the
country through which they run, as the future abode of the most
extensive commerce and greatest maritime power in the universe. The
banks presented much the same features as those of the Raritan, though
they were not quite so flat, and more diversified with scattered
dwellings, villages, and towns. We passed Bristol and Burlington,
stopping at each of them to take up passengers.[32] I sat working,
having finished my book, not a little discomfited by the pertinacious
staring of some of my fellow-travellers. One woman, in particular, after
wandering round me in every direction, at last came and sat down
opposite me, and literally gazed me out of countenance. One improvement
they have adopted on board these boats is to forbid smoking, except in
the fore part of the vessel. I wish they would suggest that, if the
gentlemen would refrain from spitting about too, it would be highly
agreeable to the female part of the community. The universal practice
here of this disgusting trick makes me absolutely sick: every place is
made a perfect piggery of--street, stairs, steam-boat, everywhere--and
behind the scenes; on the stage at rehearsal I have been shocked and
annoyed beyond expression by this horrible custom. To-day, on board the
boat, it was a perfect shower of saliva all the time; and I longed to be
released from my fellowship with these very obnoxious chewers of
tobacco.[33] At about four o'clock we reached Philadelphia, having
performed the journey between that and New York (a distance of a hundred
miles) in less than ten hours, in spite of bogs, ruts, and all other
impediments. The manager came to look after us and our goods; and we
were presently stowed into a coach, which conveyed us to the Mansion
House, the best-reputed inn in Philadelphia. On asking for our
bed-rooms, they showed D---- and myself into a double-bedded room. On my
remonstrating against this, the chambermaid replied, that they were not
accustomed to allow lodgers so _much room_ as a room apiece. However,
upon my insisting, they gave me a little nest just big enough to turn
about in, but where, at least, I can be by myself. Dressed, and dined at
five; after dinner, wrote journal till tea-time, and then came to bed.
_Tuesday, 9th._
Rose at half-past eight. Went and took a bath. On my way thither, drove
through two melancholy-looking squares, which reminded me a little of
poor old Queen Square in Bristol. The ladies' baths were closed, but, as
I was not particular, they gave me one in the part of the house usually
allotted to the men's use. I was much surprised to find two baths in one
room, but it seems to me that the people of this country have an
aversion to solitude, whether eating, sleeping, or under any other
circumstances.
* * * * *
* * * * *
I made acquaintance with a bewitching Newfoundland puppy, whom I greatly
coveted. Came home, dressed, and breakfasted. After breakfast, righted
my things, and wrote journal. Took a walk with my father through some of
the principal streets. The town is perfect silence and solitude,
compared with New York; there is a greater air of age about it too,
which pleases me. The red houses are not so fiercely red, nor the white
facings so glaringly white; in short, it has not so new and flaunting a
look, which is a great recommendation to me. The city is regularly
built, the streets intersecting each other at right angles. We passed
one or two pretty buildings in pure white marble, and the Bank in
Chestnut Street, which is a beautiful little copy of the Parthenon. The
pure, cold, clear-looking marble suits well with the severe and
unadorned style of architecture; and is in harmony, too, with the
extreme brilliancy of the sky, and clearness of the atmosphere of this
country.[34] We passed another larger building, also a bank, in the
Corinthian style, which did not please me so much. The shops here are
much better looking than those at New York: the windows are larger, and
more advantageously constructed for the display of goods; and there did
not appear to be the same anomalous mixture of vendibles, as in the New
York shops. The streets were very full of men hurrying to the
town-house, to give their votes. It is election time, and much
excitement subsists with regard to the choice of the future
President.[35] The democrats or radicals are for the re-election of
General Jackson, but the aristocratic party, which here at all events is
the strongest, are in favour of Henry Clay. Here is the usual quantity
of shouting and breaking windows that we are accustomed to on these
occasions. I saw a caricature of Jackson and Van Buren, his chief
supporter, which was entitled "The King and his Minister." Van Buren
held a crown in his hand, and the devil was approaching Jackson with a
sceptre.--Came in at half-past four, dressed for dinner: they gave us an
excellent one. The master of this house was, it seems, once a man of
independent fortune, and a great _bon vivant_. He has retained from
thence a fellow-feeling for his guests, and does by them as he would be
done by. After dinner, worked till tea-time; after tea, wrote journal,
and now I'll go to bed. We are attended here by a fat old lively negro,
by name Henry, who canters about in our behalf with great alacrity, and
seems wrapt in much wonderment at many of our proceedings. By the by,
the black who protected our baggage from the steam-boat was ycleped
_Oliver Cromwell_. I have begun Grahame's History of America, and like
it "mainly," as the old plays say.
_Wednesday, 10th._
Rose at eight. After breakfast, trimmed a cap, and wrote to dear ----.
The streets were in an uproar all night, people shouting and bonfires
blazing; in short, electioneering fun, which seems to be pretty much the
same all the world over. Clay has it hollow here, they say: I wonder
what Colonel ---- will say to that. At twelve o'clock, sallied forth
with D---- to rehearsal. The theatre is very pretty; not large but well
sized, and, I should think, favourably constructed for the voice.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Unless Aldabella is irresistibly lovely, as well as wicked, there is no
accounting for the conduct of Fazio. My own idea of her, as well as
Milman's description, is every thing that can be conceived of splendid
in beauty, sparkling in wit, graceful in deportment, gorgeous in
apparel, and deep and dangerous in crafty wiliness; in short, the old
serpent in the shape of Mrs. ----. I wish Mrs. ---- would act that part:
I could act it well enough, but she would both act and look it, to the
very life. After rehearsal, walked about the town in quest of some
_coques de perle_ for my Bianca dress: could not procure any. I like
this town extremely: there is a look of comfort and cleanliness, and
withal of age about it, which pleases me. It is quieter, too, than New
York, and though not so gay, for that very reason is more to my fancy;
the shops, too, have a far better appearance. New York always gave me
the idea of an irregular collection of temporary buildings, erected for
some casual purpose, full of life, animation, and variety, but not meant
to endure for any length of time; a fair, in short. This place has a
much more substantial, sober, and city-like appearance. Came home at
half-past two. In the hall met Mr. ----, who is grown ten years younger
since I saw him last: it always delights me to see one of my
fellow-passengers, and I am much disappointed in not finding ---- here.
Dined at three; after dinner, read my father some of my journal; went on
with letter to ----, and then went and dressed myself. Took coffee, and
adjourned to the theatre. The house was very full, but not so full as
the Park on the first night of his acting in New York, which accounts
for the greater stillness of the audience. I watched my father narrowly
through his part to-night with great attention and some consequent
fatigue, and the conclusion I have come to is this: that though his
workmanship may be, and is, far finer _in the hand_ than that of any
other artist I ever saw, yet its very minute accuracy and refinement
renders it unfit for the frame in which it is exhibited. Whoever should
paint a scene calculated for so large a space as a theatre, and destined
to be viewed at the distance from which an audience beholds it, with the
laborious finish and fine detail of a miniature, would commit a great
error in judgment. Nor would he have the least right to complain,
although the public should prefer the coarser yet far more effective
work of a painter, who, neglecting all refinement and niceness of
execution, should merely paint with such full colouring, and breadth and
boldness of touch, as to produce in the wide space he is called upon to
fill, and upon the remote senses he appeals to, the _effect_ of that
which he intends to represent. Indeed he is the better artist of the
two, though probably not the most intellectual man. For it is the part
of such a one to know exactly what will best convey to the mass of mind
and feeling to which he addresses himself the emotions and passions
which he wishes them to experience.[36] Now the great beauty of all my
father's performances, but particularly of Hamlet, is a wonderful
accuracy in the detail of the character which he represents; an accuracy
which modulates the emphasis of every word, the nature of every gesture,
the expression of every look; and which renders the whole a most
laborious and minute study, toilsome in the conception and acquirement,
and most toilsome in the execution. But the result, though the natural
one, is not such as he expects, as the reward of so much labour. Few
persons are able to follow such a performance with the necessary
attention, and it is almost as great an exertion to see it
_understandingly_, as to act it. The amazing study of it requires a
study in those who are to appreciate it, and, as I take it, this is far
from being what the majority of spectators are either capable or
desirous of doing; the actor loses his pains, and they have but little
pleasure. Those who perform, and those who behold a play, have but a
certain proportion of power of exciting, and capability of being
excited. If, therefore, the actor expends his power of exciting, and his
audience's power of being excited, upon the detail of the piece, and
continues through five whole acts to draw from both, the main and
striking points, those of strongest appeal, those calculated most to
rouse at once, and gratify the emotions of the spectator, have not the
same intensity or vigour that they would have had, if the powers of both
actor and audience had been reserved to give them their fullest effect.
A picture requires light and shadow; and the very relief that throws
some of the figures in a fine painting into apparent obscurity, in
reality enhances the effect produced by those over which the artist has
shed a stronger light. Every note in the most expressive song does not
require a peculiar expression; and an air sung with individual emphasis
on each note would be utterly unproductive of the desired effect. All
things cannot have all their component parts equal, and "nothing
pleaseth but rare accidents." This being so, I think that acting the
best which skilfully husbands the actor's and spectator's powers, and
puts forth the whole of the one, to call forth the whole of the other,
occasionally only; leaving the intermediate parts sufficiently level, to
allow him and them to recover the capability of again producing, and
again receiving, such impressions. It is constant that our finest nerves
deaden and dull from over-excitement, and require repose, before they
regain their acute power of sensation. At the same time, I am far from
advocating that most imperfect conception and embodying of a part which
Kean allows himself: literally acting detached passages alone, and
leaving all the others, and the entire character, indeed, utterly
destitute of unity, or the semblance of any consistency whatever. But
Kean and my father are immediately each other's antipodes, and, in
adopting their different styles of acting, it is evident that each has
been guided as much by his own physical and intellectual individuality,
as by any fixed principle of art. The one, Kean, possesses particular
physical qualifications; an eye like an orb of light, a voice,
exquisitely touching and melodious in its tenderness, and in the harsh
dissonance of vehement passion terribly true; to these he adds the
intellectual ones of vigour, intensity, amazing power of concentrating
effect; these give him an entire mastery over his audience in all
striking, sudden, impassioned passages, in fulfilling which he has
contented himself, leaving unheeded what he probably could not compass,
the unity of conception, the refinement of detail, and evenness of
execution.[37] My father possesses certain physical defects, a faintness
of colouring in the face and eye, a weakness of voice; and the
corresponding intellectual deficiencies, a want of intensity, vigour,
and concentrating power: these circumstances have led him (probably
unconsciously) to give his attention and study to the finer and more
fleeting shades of character, the more graceful and delicate
manifestations of feeling, the exquisite variety of all minor parts, the
classic keeping of a highly-wrought whole; to all these, polished and
refined tastes, an acute sense of the beauty of harmonious proportions,
and a native grace, gentleness, and refinement of mind and manner, have
been his prompters; but they cannot inspire those startling and
tremendous bursts of passion, which belong to the highest walks of
tragedy, and to which he never gave their fullest expression. I fancy my
aunt Siddons united the excellences of both these styles. But to return
to my father's Hamlet: every time I see it, something strikes me afresh
in the detail. Nothing in my mind can exceed the exquisite beauty of his
last "Go on--I follow thee," to the ghost. The full gush of deep and
tender faith, in spite of the awful mystery, to whose unfolding he is
committing his life, is beautiful beyond measure. It is distinct, and
wholly different from the noble, rational, philosophic conviction, "And
for my soul, what can it do to that?" It is full of the unutterable
fondness of a believing heart, and brought to my mind, last night, those
holy and lovely words of scripture, "Perfect love casteth out fear:" it
enchanted me.[38] There is one thing in which I do not believe my father
ever has been, or ever will be, excelled; his high and noble bearing,
his gallant, graceful, courteous deportment; his perfect good-breeding
on the stage; unmarked alike by any peculiarity of time, place, or self
(except peculiar grace and beauty). He appears to me the beau ideal of
the courtly, thorough-bred, chivalrous gentleman, from the days of the
admirable Crichton down to those of George the Fourth. Coming home after
the play, the marble buildings in the full moonlight reminded me of the
Ghost in Hamlet: they looked like pale majestic spirits, cold, calm, and
colourless.
_Thursday, 11th._
Rose rather late. After breakfast, wrote journal; at twelve, went to
rehearsal.
* * * * *
* * * * *
After rehearsal, came home, habited, and went to the riding-school to
try some horses. _Merci de moi!_ what quadrupeds! How they did wallop
and shamble about; poor half-broken dumb brutes! they know no better;
and as the natives here are quite satisfied with their shuffling,
rollicking, mongrel pace, half trot, half canter, why it is not worth
while to break horses in a christian-like fashion for them.[39] I found
something that I think my father can ride with tolerable comfort, but
must go again to-morrow and see after something for myself. Came home:
the enchanting Mr. Head has allowed me a piano-forte; but in bringing it
into the room, the stupid slave broke one of its legs off, whereat I was
like to faint, for I thought Mr. Head would wish me hanged therefor.
Nothing can exceed the civility of the people here, and the house is
extremely well kept, quiet, and comfortable. Came home in high delight
with this Quaker city, which is indeed very pretty and pleasant. Played
on the piano: dressed for dinner. After dinner, practised till tea-time,
finished journal, discussed metaphysics with D----, for which I am a
fool; wrote to-day's journal, and now to bed. I have a dreadful cold and
cough, and have done nothing but hack and snivel the whole day long:
this is a bad preparation for to-morrow's work. Howsoever----
_Friday, 12th._
Rose at eight. After breakfast, sat writing journal and letter to ----.
At half-past eleven, went to rehearsal. Afterwards walked down to the
riding-school with my father. The horse I was to look at had not
arrived; but my father saw the grey. We were there for some time; and
during that whole some time a tall, thin, unhappy-looking gentleman, who
had gotten up upon a great hulking rawboned horse, kept trotting round
and round, with his legs dangling down, _sans_ stirrups, at the rate of
a mile and a quarter an hour; occasionally ejaculating in the mildest of
tones, "keome--keome up;" whereat the lively brute, nothing persuaded,
proceeded in the very same pace, at the very same rate; and this went on
till I wondered at the man and the beast. Came home and put out things
for the theatre. My cold and cough are dreadful. After dinner,
practised: invented and executed a substitute for the _coques de perle_
in my Bianca dress; and lay down to rest a little before my work. At
six, went to the theatre: the house was very full; and D---- and my
father say that I was extremely ungracious in my acknowledgment of their
greeting. I cannot tell; I did not mean to be so; I made them three
courtesies, and what could woman do more? Of course, I can neither feel
nor look so glad to see them as I am to see my own dear London people:
neither can I be as profound in my obeisance, as when my audience is
civil enough to rise to me: "there is differences, look you."
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
My Fazio had a pair of false black whiskers on, which distilled a black
stripe of trickling cement down his cheeks, and kept me in agony every
time he had to embrace me. My voice was horrible to hear; alternately
like Mrs. ---- and ----, and every now and then it was all I could do to
utter at all. This audience is the most unapplausive I ever acted to,
not excepting my _excitable_ friends north of the Tweed. They were very
attentive, certainly, but how they did make me work! 'Tis amazing how
much an audience loses by this species of hanging back, even where the
silence proceeds from unwillingness to interrupt a good performance:
though in reality it is the greatest compliment an actor can receive,
yet he is deprived by that very stillness of half his power. Excitement
is reciprocal between the performer and the audience: he creates it in
them, and receives it back again from them; and in that last scene in
Fazio, half the effect that I produce is derived from the applause
which I receive, the very noise and tumult of which tends to heighten
the nervous energy which the scene itself begets. I know that my aunt
Siddons has frequently said the same thing. And besides the above reason
for applause, the physical powers of an actor require, after any
tremendous exertion, the rest and regathering of breath and strength,
which the interruption of the audience affords him; moreover, as 'tis
the conventional mode of expressing approbation in a theatre, it is
chilling and uncomfortable to go toiling on, without knowing whether, as
the maidservants say, "one gives satisfaction or no." They made noise
enough, however, at the end of the play. Came home, supped, and to bed;
weary to death, and with a voice like a cracked bagpipe.
_Saturday, 13th._
Rose at half-past eight. After breakfast, wrote journal; practised for
an hour; got things ready for to-morrow; put on my habit, which I had no
sooner done than the perverse clouds began to rain. The horses came at
two, but the weather was so bad that I sent them away again. Practised
for another hour, read a canto in Dante, and dressed for dinner. After
dinner, worked and practised. Came to my own room, and tried to scribble
something for the Mirror, at my father's request; the editors having
made an especial entreaty to him that I might write something for them,
and also sit to some artist for them. I could not accomplish any thing,
and they must just take something that I have by me: as for my
physiognomy, that they shall certainly not have with my own good leave.
I will never expend so much useless time again as to sit for my picture;
nor will I let any unhappy painter again get abused for painting me as I
am, which is any thing but what I look like. Lawrence alone could do it:
there is no other that could see my spirit through my face; and as for
the face without that, the less that is seen of it the better. Came down
to tea, and found a young gentleman sitting with my father; one Mr.
----.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
He was a pretty-spoken _genteel_ youth enough: he drank tea with us, and
offered to ride with me. He is, it seems, a great fortune; consequently,
I suppose (in spite of his inches), a great man. Now I'll go to bed: my
cough's enough to kill a horse.
_Sunday, 14th._
Rose late; so late that, by the time I had breakfasted, it was no longer
time to go to church.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Finished my first letter to ----. Mr. ---- called, and told us that he
was going about _agitating_, and that Jackson was certainly to be
re-elected.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
At three o'clock D---- and I sallied forth to go to church. Following
the silver voices of the Sabbath bells, as they called the worshippers
to the house of prayer, we entered a church with a fine simple façade,
and found ourselves in the midst of a Presbyterian congregation. 'Tis
now upwards of eight years since, a school girl, I used to attend a
dissenters' chapel. The form of worship, though displeasing to me in
itself, borrowed a charm to-day from old association. How much of the
past it did recall!
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Came home and dressed for dinner. After dinner, half-killed myself with
laughter over an Irish version of Fazio, ycleped Grimaldi, from which
the author swears Milman has shamefully filched the plot, characters,
and even the language, I believe, of his drama. A gentleman of the
press, by name ----, paid us an evening visit. He seems an intelligent
young man enough; and when he spoke of the autumnal woods, by the Oneida
lake, his expressions were poetical and enthusiastic; and he pleased
me.[40] He seems to think much of having had the honour of
corresponding with sundry of the small literati of London. _Je lui en
fais mon compliment._ When he was gone, wrote another letter to ----;
journal, and now to bed.
_Monday, 15th._
Rose at eight; took a hot bath. The more I read of Grahame, the better I
like him and his history. Those early settlers in Massachusetts were
fine fellows, indeed; and Cotton, one of the finest samples of a
Christian priest imaginable. After breakfast, went to rehearsal. The day
was cold, but beautifully bright and clear. The pure, fresh,
invigorating air, and gay sunlight, together with the delightfully clean
streets, and pretty mixture of trees and buildings in this nice town,
caused me to rejoice, as I walked along.[41] After rehearsal, saw
Sinclair and his wife. So--we are to act the Gamester here. Went and
ordered a dress for that same, my own being at New York. Came home, put
out things for the theatre, practised an hour; dined at three. After
dinner, read a canto in Dante: he is my admiration!--great, great
master!--a philosopher profound, as all poets should be; a glorious
poet, as I wish all philosophers were. Sketched till dark. Chose a
beautiful claret-coloured velvet for Mrs. Beverley, which will cost Miss
Kemble eleven guineas, by this living light. At six, went to the
theatre. I never beheld any thing more gorgeous than the sky at sunset.
Autumn is an emperor here, clothed in crimson and gold, and canopied
with ruddy glowing skies. Yet I like the sad russet cloak of our own
autumnal woods; I like the sighing voice of his lament through the
vaporous curtain that rises round his steps; I like the music of the
withered leaves that rustle in his path; and oh, above all, the solemn
thoughts that wait upon him, as he goes stripping the trees of their
bright foliage, leaving them like the ungarlanded columns of a deserted
palace. The play was Romeo and Juliet. My father was the "youngest of
that name," for want of a better, or, rather, of a worse. How beautiful
this performance must have been, when the youthful form made that appear
natural which now seems the triumph of art over nature. Garrick said,
that to act Romeo required a grey head upon green shoulders. Indeed,
'tis difficult! Oh, that our sapient judges did but know half how
difficult. It is delightful to act with my father. One's imagination
need toil but little, to see in him the very thing he represents;
whereas, with all other Romeos, although they were much younger men, I
have had to do double work with that useful engine, my fancy: first, to
get rid of the material obstacle staring me in the face, and then to
substitute some more congenial representative of that sweetest vision of
youth and love. Once, only, this was not necessary.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The audience here are, without exception, the most disagreeable I ever
played to. Not a single hand did they give the balcony scene, or my
father's scene with the friar: they are literally immovable. They
applauded vehemently at the end of my draught scene, and a great deal at
the end of the play; but they are, nevertheless, intolerably dull; and
it is all but impossible to act to them.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The man who acted Capulet did it better than any Capulet I ever acted
with; and the nurse, besides looking admirably, acted her part very
well: and 'tis hard to please me, after poor dear old Mrs. Davenport.
The house was literally crammed from floor to ceiling. Came home tired
and hoarse; though my voice was a good deal better to-day. Mr.
---- supped with us. My father expected a visit from the haggling Boston
manager, and chose to have a witness to the conference.
_Tuesday, 16th._
Rose at nine. After breakfast, read a canto in Dante; wrote journal;
practised for an hour. The Boston manager, it seems, does not approve of
our terms; and after bargaining till past two o'clock last night with my
father, the latter, wearied out with his illiberal trafficking, and
coarse vulgarity of manner, declined the thing altogether: so, unless
the gentleman thinks better of the matter, we shall not go to Boston
this winter.[42] At one o'clock, habited; and at two, rode out with my
father. The day was most enchanting, mild, bright, and sunny; but the
roads were deplorable, and the country utterly dull. My horse was a
hard-mouthed half broken beast, without pace of any christian kind
soever; a perfect rack on hoofs: how it did jog and jumble me! However,
my bones are young, and my courage good, and I don't mind a little hard
work; but the road was so villanously bad, and the surrounding country
so weary, dull, stale, and unprofitable, that I was heartily sick of my
ride, when we turned towards Fairmount, the site of some large
water-works on the Schuylkill, by which Philadelphia is supplied with
water. On our right I descried, over some heights, a castellated
building of some extent, whose formidable appearance at least bespoke an
arsenal; but it was the entrance to the Penitentiary instead: and
presently the river, bright, and broad, and placid as a lake, with its
beautiful banks, and rainbow-tinted woods, opened upon us. We crossed a
covered wooden bridge, and followed the water's edge. The rich colours
of the foliage cast a warm light over the transparent face of the
mirror-like stream; and, far along the winding shores, a mingled mantle
of gorgeous glowing tints lay over the woody banks, and was reflected in
the still sunny river. Indeed, it was lovely! But our time was growing
short, and we had to turn home; which we did by a pleasant and more
direct path. My horse, towards the end of the ride, got more manageable;
and I doubt whether it would not be wiser to continue to ride it than
try another, which may be just as bad, and, moreover, a _stranger_. My
riding-cap seemed to excite universal marvel wherever we passed. We came
in at five o'clock; dressed, and dined. Just as I had finished dinner, a
most beautiful, fragrant, and delicious nosegay was brought to me, with
a very laconic note from a Philadelphia "_friend_," dashed under, as
though from a Quaker. Whoever 'tis from, Jew or Gentile, Puritan or
Pagan, he, she, or it hath my most unbounded gratitude. Spent an
ecstatic half hour in arranging my flowers in glasses; gave orders about
my Mrs. Beverley's gown, and began marking journal; while doing so, a
card was brought up.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Presently Mr. ---- came in, another of our Pacific fellow-sailors. It
pleases me to see them: they seem to bring me nearer to England. He gave
a dreadful account of his arrival in Baltimore, and of the state to
which the cholera had reduced that city. Mr. ---- amused me, by telling
me that he had heard my behaviour canvassed with much censure by some
man or other, who met me at Mr. ----'s, and who was horrified at my
taking up a book, and then a newspaper, and, in short, being neither
tragical nor comical, at a dinner-party. Of course, I must seem a very
strange animal to them all; but they seem just as strange to me.
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Wednesday, 17th._
Rose at eight. After breakfast, put out things for the theatre. At
eleven, went to rehearsal. It seems there has been fighting, and
rushing, and tearing of coats at the box-office; and one man has made
forty dollars by purchasing and reselling tickets at an increased price.
After rehearsal, came home. Mr. ---- called, and sat some time: he sails
for England on the twenty-fourth. England, oh England!--yet, after all,
what is there in that name? It is not my home; it is not those beloved
ones' whose fellowship is half the time what we call _home_. Is it
really and truly the yearning of the roots for the soil in which they
grew? Perhaps it is only the restless roving spirit, that still would be
where it is not. I know not. His description of American life and
manners (and he knows both, for he has lived constantly in this country,
and his particularities are, I believe, fairly divided between it and
his own,) is any thing but agreeable.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The dignified and graceful influence which married women, among us,
exercise over the tone of manners, uniting the duties of home to the
charms of social life, and bearing, at once, like the orange-tree, the
fair fruits of maturity with the blossoms of their spring, is utterly
unknown here. Married women are either house-drudges and nursery-maids,
or, if they appear in society, comparative ciphers; and the retiring,
modest, youthful bearing, which among us distinguishes girls of fifteen
or sixteen, is equally unknown. Society is entirely led by chits, who in
England would be sitting behind a pinafore; the consequence is, that it
has neither the elegance, refinement, nor the propriety which belongs to
ours; but is a noisy, rackety, vulgar congregation of flirting boys and
girls, alike without style or decorum.[43] When Mr. ---- was gone,
practised till dinner-time. After dinner, practised for half an hour;
marked journal, till time to go to the theatre; took coffee, and away.
The house was crammed again, and the play better acted than I have ever
seen it out of London, though Mrs. Candour had stuck upon her head a
bunch of feathers which threatened the gods; and Lady Sneerwell had
dragged all her hair off her face, which needed to be as pretty as it
was, to endure such an exposure. I do not wonder the New Yorkians did
not approve of my Lady Teazle. If, as ---- tells me, Mrs. ---- is their
idea of the perfection of good-breeding, well may my delineation of a
lady be condemned as "nothing particular." Yet I am sorry I must
continue to lie under their censure, for I, unfortunately for myself,
have seen ladies, "ripe and real," who, from all I can see, hear, and
understand, differ widely from the good manners of their "beau ideal."
The fact is, I am not "_genteel_" enough, and I am conscious of it. The
play went off remarkably well. Came to bed at half-past eleven.
* * * * *
_Thursday, 18th._
Here is the end of October, the very mourning-time of the year with us,
and my room is full of flowers, and the sun is so bright and powerful,
that it is impossible to go out with a shawl, or without a parasol. Went
to rehearsal at twelve; at two, came in and habited; and at half-past
two, rode out with my father. We took the road to the Schuylkill at
once, through Arch Street, which is a fine, broad, long street, running
parallel with Chestnut Street. We walked along the road under the
intense sunlight that made all things look sleepy around. Turning
between some rising banks, through a defile where the road wound up a
hill, we caught a glimpse of a white house standing on the sunny slope
of a green rise. The undulating grounds around were all bathed in warm
light, relieved only by the massy shadows of the thick woods that
sheltered them. It was a bit of England.
* * * * *
Some good farming and tidy out-houses, and dependencies, completed the
resemblance, and made me think that this must be the dwelling of some of
my own country people. How can they live here? Here, even in the midst
of what is fair and peaceful in nature, I think my home would haunt me,
and the far-off chiming of the waves against her white shores resound in
my ears through the smooth flowing of the Schuylkill.[44] After pursuing
a level uninteresting road for some time, we turned off to the right,
and, standing on the brow of a considerable declivity, had a most
enchanting glimpse of the Schuylkill and its woody shores. The river
makes a bend just above the water-works, and the curving banks scooping
themselves form a lovely little sunny bay. It was more like a lake, just
here, than a flowing stream. The sky was so blessedly serene, and the
air so still, that the pure deep-looking water appeared to sleep, while
the bright hues of the heavens, and the glowing lints of the woody
shores, were mirrored with wondrous vividness on its bosom. I never saw
such gorgeousness, and withal such perfect harmony of colouring. The
golden sky, the mingled green, brown, yellow, crimson, and dark maroon,
that clothed the thickets; the masses of grey granite, with the vivid
mossy green that clung round them; the sunny purple waters; the warm red
colour of the road itself, as it wound down below, with a border of
fresh-looking turf on either side of it; the radiant atmosphere of rosy
light that hung over all; all combined to present a picture of perfect
enchantment. The eye was drunk with beauty.[45] How I though t of Mr.
----. Indeed a painter would have gone crazy over it, and I, who am not
a painter, was half crazy that I was not. Though if I had been, what
would it have availed? Such colours are from God's pallet, and mortal
hand may no more copy, than it could mingle them. We rode on through
scenery of the same description, passing in our way a farm and dairy,
where the cattle were standing, not in open pastureland, but in a corner
of forest-ground, all bright with the golden shedding of the trees; it
was very picturesque. A little runlet of water, too, that held the
middle of a tangled ravine, ran glittering like a golden snake through
the underwood, while the stems of the trees, and the light foliage on
the edge of the thick woody screens, were bathed in yellow sunshine. All
around was beautiful, and rich, and harmonious to the eye, and should
have been so to the spirit.
* * * * *
Returned home at about half-past five, dined at six; found another
beautiful nosegay waiting for me, from my unknown furnisher of sweets.
This is almost as tantalising as it is civil; and I would give half my
lovely flowers to find out who sends them to me. Distributed them all
over the room, and was as happy as a queen. Mr. ---- called. My father
was obliged to go out upon business, so D---- and I had to entertain
that worthy youth. He seems to have a wonderful veneration for a parcel
of scribblers, whose names were never heard of in England, beyond the
limits of their own narrow coteries. But he speaks like an enthusiast of
the woods and waters of his glorious country, and I excuse his taste in
poetry. Now isn't this strange, that a man who can feel the amazing
might, majesty, and loveliness of nature, can endure for a moment the
mawkish scribbling of these poetasters? Verily, we be anomalous beasts.
* * * * *