* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
After breakfast, sat writing to dear ---- for some time. Put out things
for the theatre, and went to rehearsal. My father has received a most
comical note from one ----, a Scotch gardener, florist, and seedsman;
the original, by the by, of Galt's Lawrie Todd,--and original enough he
must be. The note expresses a great desire that my father and myself
will call upon him, for that he wishes very much to _look at us_--that
the hours of the theatre are too late for him, and that besides, he
wants to see us as ourselves, and not as "kings and princesses." I have
entreated my father to go: this man must be worth knowing. I shall
certainly keep his note. After rehearsal, came home. Wrote to ----, to
dear ----. Mr. ---- called; also Colonel ----, who gave an account of
the proceedings of the committee for ----'s benefit, which, added to the
gentleman's own note to my father, thoroughly disgusted me. And here I
do solemnly swear, never again, with my own good will, to become
acquainted with any man in any way connected with the public press. They
are utterly unreliable people, generally; their vocation requires that
they should be so; and the very few exceptions I must forego, for
however I might like them, I can neither respect nor approve of their
trade; for trade it is in the vilest sense of the word. Dined at five.
After dinner Mr. and Mrs. ---- came in.
* * * * *
* * * * *
At eight, went to the theatre. The house was, in consequence of the
raised prices, only three parts full. I just caught a glimpse of Forrest
in the fourth act of Brutus. What an enormous man he is! After the play
came sundry songs and recitations, and then Katharine and Petruchio. I
did not play well: the actors were very inattentive, as well as stupid,
and annoyed my father very much. The pit was half filled with women,
opera fashion, who, for the greater attraction of the night, and
satisfaction of themselves, were allowed to sit out of their proper
places: to be sure they had the pleasure of the society of the volunteer
heroes, who, for the benefit of Mr. ----, were all in full uniform. What
an absurdity! Swallowed an ice. Saw ----, also Mr. ----, and young ----
behind the scenes. Came home and supped. Colonel ---- called, and
discussed, first, the farce on the boards; then the farce before the
curtain; finally, the farce of life, which, to my mind, is but a
melancholy one.
_Friday, 30th._
How the time goes! Bless the old traveller, how he posts along! After
breakfast, Mrs. ---- and her son, and Mr. ---- called. I like the
latter; his manners are very good, and he is altogether more like a
gentleman than most men here. When they were gone, walked out with my
father to ----'s. The day was grey, and cold, and damp--a real November
day, such as we know them. We held the good man's note, and steered our
course by it, and in process of time entered a garden, passed through a
green-house, and arrived in an immense and most singularly-arranged
seed-shop, with galleries running round it, and the voice of a hundred
canaries resounding through it. I don't know why, but it reminded me of
a place in the Arabian Nights. "Is Mr. ---- within?" shouted forth my
father, seeing no one in this strange-looking abode. "Yes, he is," was
replied from somewhere, by somebody. We looked about, and presently,
with his little grey bullet head, and shrewd piercing eyes, just
appearing above the counter, we detected the master of the house. My
father stepped up to him with an air like the Duke of ----, and,
returning his coarse curiously-folded note to him, said, "I presume I
am addressing Mr. ----: this, sir," drawing me forward, "is Miss Fanny
Kemble." The little man snatched off his spectacles, rushed round the
counter, rubbed his enormous hand upon his blue stuff apron, and held it
out to us with a most hearty welcome. He looked at us for some time, and
then exclaimed, "Ha! ye're her father. Well, ye'll have married pretty
early--ye look very young: I should not have been sae much surprised if
ye had called her ye're wife!" I laughed, and my father smiled at this
compliment, which was recommended by a broad Scotch twang, which always
sounds sweetly in my ears. The little man, whose appearance is that of a
dwarf in some fairy tale, then went on to tell us how Galt had written a
book all about him; how it was, almost word for word, his own story; how
he had come to this country in early life, with three halfpence in his
pocket, and a nail and hammer in his hand, for all worldly substance;
how he had earned his bread by making nails, which was his business in
Scotland; how, one day, passing by some flowers exposed for sale, he had
touched a geranium leaf by accident, and, charmed with its fragrance,
bought it, having never seen one before; how, with fifteen dollars in
his pocket, he commenced the business of a florist and gardener; and how
he had refused as many thousand dollars for his present prosperous
concern; how, when he first came to New York, the place opposite his
garden, where now stands a handsome modern dwelling-house, was the site
of a shed where he did his first bit of work; how, after six-and-twenty
years' absence from Scotland, he returned home; how he came to his
father's house--"'Twas on a bright morning in August--the eighth of
August, just, it was--when I went through the door. I knew all the old
passages so well: I opened the parlour door, and there, according to the
good old Scottish custom, the family were going to prayers afore
breakfast. There was the old Bible on the table, and the old clock
ticking in the corner of the room; there was my father in his own old
chair, exactly just where I had left him six-and-twenty years gone by.
The very shovel and tongs by the fire were the same; I knew them all. I
just sat down, and cried as sweetly as ever a man did in his life."
These were, as nearly as I can recollect, his words; and oh, what a
story! His manner, too, was indescribably vivid and graphic. My father's
eyes filled with tears. He stretched out his hand, and grasped and shook
the Scotchman's hand repeatedly without speaking; I never saw him more
excited. I never was more struck myself with the wonderful strangeness
of this bewildering life. He showed us the foot of a rude rustic-looking
table. "That," he said, "was cut from out the hawthorn hedge that grows
by my father's house; and this," showing us a wooden bowl, "is what I
take my _parritch_ in!" I asked him if he never meant to leave this
country, and return to bonny Scotland. He said, No, never: he might
return, but he never meant to settle any where but here. "For," added
he, "I have grown what I am in it, madam, and 'tis a fine country for
the poor." He had been an early martyr, too, to his political opinions;
and, when only nineteen years of age, had been imprisoned in Edinburgh
for advocating the cause of that very reform which the people are at
this moment crying jubilee over in England. He seemed to rejoice in this
country, as in the wide common land of political freedom, unbounded by
the limits of long-established prejudice, unbroken by the deep trenches
which divide class from class in the cultivated soil of the old world. I
could have listened to this strange oracle for a day; but in the midst
of his discourse he was summoned to dinner; and presenting his son to
us, who presented a nosegay to me, left us to wander about his singular
domain. His father, by the by, is still alive, and residing within six
miles of Edinburgh, a man of ninety years and upwards. We walked about
the shop, visited the birds, who are taken most admirable care of, and
are extremely beautiful. I saw several mocking birds: they should sing
well, for they are not pretty. Their plumage is of a dull grey colour,
and they are clumsy-looking birds.[73] Saw two beautiful African widow
birds, with their jet black hoods and trains. Saw an English blackbird,
and thrush, _in cages_. They made my heart ach. I wonder if they ever
think of the red ripe cracking cherries, the rich orchard lands, and the
hawthorn-hedged lanes in the summer sunsets of dear England? I did for
them. We then went and looked at a tank full of beautiful gold fish, as
they indiscriminately called them. But though the greater number were
the glittering scarlet creatures usually so denominated, some were of
the richest purple, with a soft dark bloom playing over their sides;
others, again, were perfectly brown, with a glancing golden light
shining through their scales; others were palest silver; others, again,
mingled the dazzling scarlet with spots of the most beautiful gloomy
violet, like dark-coloured jewels set in fire. Their tank was planted
with the roots of aquatic vegetables, which, in summer, spread their
cool leaves over the water, which is perpetually renewed by means of an
escape, and a little silvery fountain which keeps bubbling up in the
midst. They seemed very happy, and devoured sundry pieces of wafer
paper, while we admired them at our leisure. Saw an India-rubber tree, a
very young one, which had not attained its full growth. 'Tis a fine
broad-leaved tree, unlike any that I ever saw before. After dawdling
about very satisfactorily for some time, we departed from the dwelling
of Lawrie Todd. Of a verity, "truth is strange, stranger than fiction."
Went to a bookseller's. I bought a Bible for little ----; my father, a
Shakspeare for ----. Came home. Mr. ---- called, and gossiped some time
with me. Told me a bit of scandal, of which I had some slight suspicion
before, _i. e._ that Mr. ---- was pretty Mrs. ----'s very devoted. At
half-past four dressed for dinner. Colonel ---- called just as we were
going to dinner. At five, my father and I went to Mrs. ----'s. A
pleasant dinner. I like him enough, and I like her very much. She is
extremely pretty, and very pleasant. Sat by that tall ninny, Mr. ----,
who uttered inanity the whole of dinner-time. After dinner, the usual
entertaining half hour among the ladies passed in looking over
caricatures. When the men joined us, Mr. ---- came and sat down by me,
and in the course of a few minutes, poor Lord ---- having by chance been
mentioned, we fell into English talk; and it appears that he knows
sundry of my gracious _patrons_; among the rest, the ----s. He had been
at ----; and it pleased me to speak of it again. But what in the name of
all wonders could possess him with the idea that Lady ---- was guilty of
editing the Comic Annual. Was asked to sing, and sang "Ah no ben mio"
pretty well. Mr. ---- sang a thing of his own very well, though it was
not in itself worth much. Discussed all manner of prima donnas with him.
At half-past nine, D---- came for me, and we proceeded to the ----s. The
people here never tell one when they mean to dance; the consequence is,
that one is completely put out about one's toilet. I was in a black
satin dress; and dancing in these hot rooms, might as well have been in
a pall.
* * * * *
* * * * *
In the middle of the evening, Dr. ---- asked if I would allow him to
introduce to me one Mr. ----, a very delightful man, full of abilities,
_and_ writer in such and such a paper. I immediately called to mind my
resolution, and refused. In the mean time, Mrs. ----, less scrupulous,
and without asking my leave, brought the gentleman up, and introduced
him. I was most ungracious and forbidding, and meant to be so. I am
sorry for this, but I cannot help it: he is ----'s brother, too, which
makes me doubly sorry. As he is an agreeable man, and ----'s brother, I
esteem and reverence him; but, as he belongs to the press gang, I will
not know him. The room was full of pretty women, one prettier than
another. I danced myself half dead, and came home. By the by, was
introduced to young ----, who, at the corner of a street, with a red cap
on his head, might pass for a capital hickory pole. Mrs. ----'s
bed-room, where we left our cloaks, made my heart ach. 'Twas exactly
like my dear little bed-room at home; the bed, the furniture, and the
rose-coloured lining, all the same.
_Saturday, December 1st, 1832._
First day of the last month of the year--go it, old fellow! I'm sick of
the road, and would be at my journey's end. Got two hundred dollars from
my father, and immediately after breakfast sallied forth: paid bills and
visits, and came home. Found my father sitting with our kinsman, Mr.
----, busily discussing the family origin, root, branches, and all. We
are an old family, they say, but the direct line is lost after Charles
the Second's reign. Our kinsman is a nice man, with a remarkably fine
face, with which I was greatly struck. When he was gone, persuaded my
father to come down and take a breathing on the Battery with me. And a
breathing it was with a vengeance. The wind blew tempestuously, the
waters, all troubled and rough, were of a yellow green colour, breaking
into short, strong, angry waves, whose glittering white crests the wind
carried away, as they sank to the level surface again. The shores were
all cold, distinct, sharp-cut, and wintry-looking, the sky was black and
gloomy, with now and then a watery wan sunlight running through it. The
wind was so powerful, we could scarcely keep our legs. My sleeves and
skirts fluttered in the blast, my bonnet was turned front part behind,
my nose was blue, my cheeks were crimson, my hair was all tangled, my
breath was gone, my blood was in a glow: what a walk! Met dear Dr. ----,
whom I love. Came in--dined. After dinner, bethought me that I had not
called upon Mrs. ----, according to promise. Sent for a coach, and set
forth thither; didn't know the number, so drove up Spring Street, and
down Spring Street, and finally stopped at a shop, got a directory, and
found the address. Sat a few minutes with her, and at five o'clock left
her. The day was already gone--the _gloamin_ come. The keen cutting wind
whizzed along the streets; huge masses of dark clouds, with soft brown
edges, lay on the pale delicate blue of the evening sky. The moon was
up, clear, cold, and radiant; the crowd had ebbed away from the busy
thoroughfare, and only a few men in great-coats buttoned up to their
chins, and women wrapped in cloaks, were scudding along in the dim
twilight and the bitter wind towards their several destinations, with a
frozen shuddering look that made me laugh. I had got perished in the
coach, and seeing that the darkness covered me, determined to walk home,
and bade the coach follow me. How pleasant it was! I walked tremendously
fast, enjoying the fresh breath of the north, and looking at the
glittering moon, as she rode high in the evening sky. How I do like
walking alone--being alone; for this alone I wish I were a man. At
half-past five, went to the theatre. The house was crammed; play,
Hunchback. I missed ---- from his accustomed seat, and found that like a
very politician he had changed sides. I played abominably; my voice was
weak and fagged. After the play, Katharine and Petruchio. I played that
better; my father was admirable--it went off delightfully. When it was
over, they called for my father, and with me in his hand he went on. The
pit rose to us like Christians, and shouted and hallooed as I have been
used to hear. I felt sorry to leave them: they are a pleasant audience
to act to, and exceedingly civil to us, and I have got rather attached
to them. New York, too, seems nearer home than any other place, and I
felt sorry to leave it. When we had withdrawn, and were going up stairs,
we heard three distinct and tremendous cheers. On asking what that
meant, we learnt 'twas a compliment to us--thank 'em kindly. Came home:
found Mr. ---- had sent me Contarini Fleming. Began reading it, and
could scarce eat my supper for doing so.
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Sunday, 2d._
While dressing, received a "sweet note" from Mrs. ----, accompanied with
a volume of Bryant's poetry, which, as I like very much, I am her
obliged. Swallowed two mouthfuls of bread, and away to church. It was
very crowded, and a worthy woman had taken possession of the corner seat
in Mr. ----'s pew, with a fidgetting little child, which she kept
dancing up and down every two minutes: though in church, I wished for
the days of King Herod. What strange thoughts did occur to me to-day
during service! 'Tis the first Sunday in Advent. The lesson for the day
contained the history of the Annunciation. What a mystery our belief is!
how seldom it is that we consider and, as it were, _take hold_ of what
we say we believe, and when we do so, how bewildered and lost we
become,--how lost among a thousand wild imaginations,--how driven to and
fro by a thousand doubts,--how wrecked amidst a thousand fears! Surely
we should be humble: we should indeed remember that we _cannot know_,
and not strive for that knowledge which our souls will lose themselves
in seeking for, and our overstrained minds crack in reaching at.
* * * * *
* * * * *
At the end of service they sang Luther's hymn. I cried with nervous
excitement, not at that, but at my recollection of Braham's singing it
with that terrible trumpet accompaniment, that used to make my heart
stand still and listen. Stayed and took the sacrament.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Came home: found a whole regiment of men. His honour the Recorder, who
is my especial delight, Mr. ----, ----, whom I greatly affection; to
these presently entered Mr. ---- and Mr. ----. They one by one bade me
good-by; how disagreeable that is, that good-by! Mr. ---- read me a
passage out of one of Jeffrey's letters, describing an English fine
lady. The picture is admirable, and most faithful; they are, indeed,
polished, brilliant, smooth as ice, as slippery, as treacherous, as
cold. When they were all gone, Colonel ---- gave me to read the
descriptive sketch of the French opera, La Tentation, that has been
setting all Paris wild. What an atrocious piece of blasphemy, indecency,
and folly--what a thoroughly French invention. Mad people! mad people!
mad people! Looked over bills, settled accounts, righted desk, tore up
papers; among others, sundry anonymous love-letters that I had treasured
up as specimens of the purely funny in composition, but which began to
take up too much room. Dressed for dinner. After dinner, sat writing
journal, and reading Contarini Fleming.
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Monday, 3d._
Rose at half-past four. The sky was black as death, but in the night
winter had chopped his mantle on the earth, and there it lay, cold, and
purely white, against the inky sky. Dressed: crammed away all the
gleanings of the packing, and in thaw, and sleet, and rain, drove down
to the steam-boat. Went directly to the cabin. On my way thither,
managed to fall down half-a-dozen steep steps, and give myself as many
bruises. I was picked up and led to a bed, where I slept profoundly till
breakfast time. Our kinsman, Mr. ----, was our fellow-passenger: I like
him mainly. After breakfast, returned to my crib. As I was removing
Contarini Fleming, in order to lie down, a _lady_ said to me, "Let me
look at one of those books;" and, without further word of question of or
acknowledgment, took it from my hand, and began reading. I was a _little
surprised_, but said nothing, and went to sleep. Presently I was roused
by a pull on the shoulder, and another lady, rather more civil, and
particularly considerate, asked me to do her the favour of lending her
the other. I said, by all manner of means, wished her at the devil, and
turned round to sleep once more. Arrived at Amboy, we disembarked and
bundled ourselves into our coach, ourselves, our namesake, and a pretty
quiet lady, who was going, in much heaviness of heart, to see a sick
child. The roads were unspeakable; the day most delightfully
disagreeable. My bruises made the saltatory movements of our crazy
conveyance doubly torturing; in short, all things were the perfection of
misery. I attempted to read, but found it utterly impossible to do so.
Arrived at the Delaware, we took boat again; and, as I was sitting very
quietly reading Contarini Fleming, with the second volume lying on the
stool at my feet, the same unceremonious lady who had _borrowed_ it
before snatched it up without addressing a single syllable to me, read
as long as she pleased, and threw it down again in the same style when
she went to dinner. Now I know that half the people here, if they were
to read that in Mrs. Trollope, would say, "Oh, but you know she could
not have been a lady, 'tis not fair to judge of our manners by the
vulgar specimens of American society which a steam-boat may afford."
Very true: but granting that she was _not_ a lady (which she certainly
was not), supposing her to have been a housemaid, or any thing else of
equal pretensions to good breeding, the way to judge is by comparing
her, not with ladies in other countries, but with housemaids, persons in
her own condition of life; and 'tis most certain that no person
whatsoever, however ignorant, low, or vulgar, in England, would have
done such a thing as that. But the mixture of the republican feeling of
equality peculiar to this country, and the usual want of refinement
common to the lower classes of most countries, forms a singularly
felicitous union of impudence and vulgarity, to be met with no where but
in America.[74] Arrived at the Mansion House, which I was quite glad to
see again. Installed myself in a room, and, while they brought in the
packages, finished Contarini Fleming. It reminded me of Combes' book: I
wonder whether he is turning phrenologist at all? those physiological
principles were the bosom friends of the Combes' phrenological ones.
Stowed away my things, made a delicious huge wood fire, dressed myself,
and went down to dinner. Our kinsman dined with us. Mr. ---- came in
while we were at dinner. After dinner, came up to my room, continued
unpacking and putting away my things till near nine o'clock. When we
went down to tea, my father was lying on the sofa asleep, and a man was
sitting with his back to the door, reading the newspaper. He looked up
as we came in: it was ----, whom I greatly rejoiced to see again. During
tea, he told us all the Philadelphia gossip. So the ladies are all
getting up upon horses, and wearing the "_Kemble_ cap," as they call
Lady ----'s device. How she would laugh if she could hear it; how I did
laugh when I did hear it. The Kemble cap, forsooth! thus it is that
great originators too often lose the fame of their inventions, and that
the glory of a _new idea_ passes by the head that conceived it, to
encircle, as with a halo, that of some mere imitator; thus it is that
this very big world comes to be called America, and not Columbia, as it
_ought to_; thus it is--etc., etc., etc. He sat for some time. Saw poor
Mrs. ----.
* * * * *
* * * * *
She is better, poor thing; I like her amazingly.
_Tuesday, 4th._
After breakfast practised for two hours. ---- called and stayed some
time. Came up to my own room; wrote journal: while doing so a note
containing two cards, and an invitation to "tea," from the Miss ----s
was brought to me. Presently I was called down to receive our kinsman,
who sat some time with me, whom I like most especially, who is a
gentleman, and a very nice person. Came up and resumed my journal: was
again summoned down to see young Mr. ----.
* * * * *
* * * * *
When he was gone, finished journal, wrote to Mrs. ----, to my mother,
read a canto in Dante, and began to write a novel. Dined at five. After
dinner, put out things for this evening, played on the piano, mended
habit shirt, dressed myself, and at a quarter to ten went to the theatre
for my father. I had on the same dress I wore at Devonshire House, the
night of the last ball I was at in England, and looked at myself in
amazement, to think of all the strangenesses that have befallen since
then. We proceeded to Miss ----'s, and this tea-party turned out to be a
very crowded dance, in small rooms upon carpets, and with a roasting
fire. Was introduced to all the world and his wife. Dr. ---- claimed
acquaintance with us, and danced with me: I like his manners very much.
I have beheld Miss ----, and should doubtless now depart in peace.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Lord! Lord! what fools men and women do make themselves. Was introduced
to one Mr. ----, Mr. ----'s partner, whom I received graciously for the
sake of the good days on board the Pacific. Came away at a little after
twelve. I never felt any thing like the heat of the rooms, or heard any
thing so strange as the questions the people ask one, or saw any thing
more lovely than the full moonlight on the marble buildings of
Philadelphia.
_Wednesday, 5th._
After breakfast, practised: Mr. and Mrs. ---- called, also Dr. ----.
Went and saw poor Mrs. ---- for a little time; she interests me most
extremely--I like her very very much. Came up to my own room; read a
canto of Dante. Was called down to see folk, and found the drawing-room
literally thronged. The first face I made out was Mr. ----'s, for whom I
have taken an especial love: two ladies, a whole load of men, and Mr.
----, who had brought me a curious piece of machinery, in the shape of a
musical box, to look at. It contained a little bird, no larger than a
large fly, with golden and purple wings, and a tiny white beak. On the
box being wound up, this little creature flew out, and, perching itself
on the brink of a gold basin, began fluttering its wings, opening its
beak, and uttering sundry very melodious warblings, in the midst of
which, it sank suddenly down, and disappeared, the lid closed, and there
was an end. What a pity 'tis that we can only realise fairy-land
through the means of machinery. One reason why there is no such thing
left as the believing faculty among men, is because they have themselves
learnt to make magic, and perform miracles. When the coast was once more
clear, I returned to my room, got out things for the theatre, dined
_tête-à-tête_ with D----; my father dined at the public table. After
dinner, came up stairs, read Grahame, wrote journal, began my novel
under another shape. I can't write prose; (query, can I any thing else?)
I don't know how, but my sentences are the comicalest things in the
world; the end forgets the beginning, and the whole is a perfect
labyrinth of parenthesis within parenthesis. Perhaps, by the by, without
other view, it would be just as well if I exercised myself a little in
writing my own language, as the grammar hath it, "with elegance and
propriety." At half-past five, went to the theatre. The play was Romeo
and Juliet; the house not good. Mr. ---- played Romeo.
* * * * *
* * * * *
I acted like a wretch, of course; how could I do otherwise? Oh, Juliet!
vision of the south! rose of the garden of the earth! was this the
glorious hymn that Shakspeare hallowed to your praise? was this the
mingled strain of Love's sweet going forth, and Death's dark victory,
over which my heart and soul have been poured out in wonder and
ecstasy?--How I do loathe the stage! these wretched, tawdry, glittering
rags, flung over the breathing forms of ideal loveliness; these
miserable, poor, and pitiful substitutes for the glories with which
poetry has invested her magnificent and fair creations--the glories with
which our imagination reflects them back again. What a mass of wretched
mumming mimicry acting is! Pasteboard and paint, for the thick breathing
orange groves of the south; green silk and oiled parchment, for the
solemn splendour of her noon of night; woolen platforms and canvass
curtains, for the solid marble balconies and rich dark draperies of
Juliet's sleeping-chamber, that shrine of love and beauty; rouge, for
the startled life-blood in the cheek of that young passionate woman; an
actress, a mimicker, a sham creature, me, in fact, or any other one, for
that loveliest and most wonderful conception, in which all that is true
in nature, and all that is exquisite in fancy, are moulded into a living
form. To _act_ this! to _act_ Romeo and Juliet! horror! horror! how I do
loathe my most impotent and unpoetical craft!
* * * * *
* * * * *
In the last scene of the play, I was so mad with the mode in which all
the preceding ones had been perpetrated, that, lying over Mr. ----'s
corpse, and fumbling for his dagger, which I could not find, I, Juliet,
thus apostrophised him,--Romeo being dead--"why, where _the_ devil _is_
your dagger, Mr. ----!" What a disgusting travesty. On my return home, I
expressed my entire determination to my father to perform the farce of
Romeo and Juliet no more. Why, it's an absolute _shame_ that one of
Shakspeare's plays should be thus turned into a mockery. I received a
note from young Mr. ----, accompanied by a very curious nosegay in
shells; a poor substitute for the breathing, fresh, rosy flowers he used
to furnish me with, when I was last here.
_Thursday, 6th._
The morning was beautifully bright and warm, like a May morning in
England. After breakfast, practised for two hours: while doing so, was
interrupted by Mr. ----, who came to bid us good-by. He was going on to
New York, and thence to England.
* * * * *
* * * * *
He sat some time. When he was gone, and I had finished my practising,
came up to my own room. Was summoned thence to see my kinsman, who sat
some time with me, and whom I like of all things. He makes it out (for
he seems a great meddler in these matters) that we are originally
Italian people, pirates by name, Campo Bello; the same family as the
Scottish Campbells; the same family as the Norman Beauchamps: how I only
wish it were true! I have, and always have had, the greatest love and
veneration for old blood; I would rather by far have some barbarous
Saxon giant to my ancestor, than all the wealth of the earth to my
dower. I parted from my friend with much regret; he has won my heart
fairly. When he was gone, came up to my own room. The day was brilliant
and unclouded; and, as I looked into the serene blue sky, my spirit
longed for wings.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Dr. ---- called this morning, and interested me by a long account of
Webster; in the course of which, however, he gave me, if possible, a
stronger distaste than I had before to the form of government in this
country, from various results which he enumerated as inevitably
belonging to it. Read a canto in Dante: it consoles me to read my
Italian, and forget for a time all that is.
* * * * *
* * * * *
I sat watching the glorious sunset, as it came redly streaming into my
room, touching every thing with glory, and shining through my hair upon
my book. It suggested to me a picture; and I wrote one for Mrs. ----,
who had been consulting me about a costume in which to sit for her
portrait. Dined at five: my father dined out. After dinner, sat writing
journal till ten, when he returned. The moon was shining soft and full,
and he asked me if I would take a walk. I bonneted and booted, and we
sallied forth to the Schuylkill. The moon withdrew herself behind a veil
of thin white clouds, but left a grey clear light over the earth, and
through the sky. We reached the Fair Mount bridge at about eleven. The
turnpike was fast, and every body asleep, so we climbed over the gate,
and very deliberately pursued our way through the strange dark-looking
covered bridge, where the glimmering lamps, at distant intervals, threw
the crossing beams and rafters into momentary brightness, that had a
strange effect contrasted with the surrounding gloom.[75] We reached the
other side, and, turning off from the road, began climbing the hill
opposite the breakwater. The road was muddy in the valley with heavy
rains; and unwilling to wade through the dirt, we clambered along a
paling for several yards, and so escaped the mire. My father steered for
the grassy knoll just opposite Fair Mount; and there, screened by a
thicket of young cedar bushes, with the river breaking over the broad
dam far below us, and the shadowy banks on the other side melting away
in the soft grey light, we sat down on a tree trunk. Here we remained
for upwards of a quarter of an hour without uttering a syllable; indeed,
we had not spoken three words since we set out. My father was thinking,
I presume, of ---- something; I, of the day of judgment--when these
thick forests, and wide strong waters, like a shrivelled scroll, are to
burn to ashes before the coming of God's justice. We were disturbed by a
large white spaniel dog, who, coming down from among the cedar bushes,
reminded me of the old witch stories, and Faust. We arose to depart, and
took our way towards the Market Street bridge, along the banks of the
river. The broken notes of a bugle-horn came at intervals across the
sleeping waters from the opposite shore, where shone reflected the few
lingering lights from the houses that had not yet shut up for the night.
The moon, faintly struggling through the clouds, now touched the dark
pyramids of the cedar trees that rose up into the grey sky, and threw
our shadows on the lonely path we were pursuing, now cast a pale gleam
through the rapid clouds that chased one another like dreams across the
sky. The air was soft and balmy as the night air of mid August. The
world was still; and, except our footfalls, as we trudged along, no
sound disturbed the universal repose. We did not reach home till
half-past twelve. As we walked down Market Street, through the long
ranges of casks, the only creatures stirring, except some melancholy
night-loving cat, my father said very calmly, "How I do wish I had a
gimlet."--"What for?"--"What fun it would be to pierce every one of
these barrels." For a gentleman of his years, this appeared to me rather
a juvenile prompting of Satan; and as I laughingly expostulated on the
wickedness of such a proceeding, he replied with much innocence, "I
don't think they'd ever suspect me of having done it;" and truly I don't
think they would. Came home, and to bed. That was a curious fancy of my
father's.