Many a league of salt sea rolls
Between us, yet I think our souls,
Dear friend, are still as closely tied
As when we wander'd side by side,
Some seven years gone, in that fair land
Where I was born. As hand in hand
We lived the showery spring away,
And, when the sunny earth was gay
With all its blossoms, still together
We pass'd the pleasant summer weather,
We little thought the time would come,
When, from a trans-Atlantic home,
My voice should greet you lovingly
Across the deep dividing sea.
Oh, friend! my heart is sad: 'tis strange,
As I sit musing on the change
That has come o'er my fate, and cast
A longing look upon the past,
That pleasant time comes back again
So freshly to my heart and brain,
That I half think the things I see
Are but a dream, and I shall be
Lying beside you, when I wake,
Upon the lawn beneath the brake,
With the hazel copse behind my head,
And the new-mown fields before me spread.
It is just twilight: that sweet time
Is short-lived in this radiant clime,--
Where the bright day, and night more bright,
Upon the horizon's verge unite,
Nor leave those hours of ray serene,
In which we think of what has been:
And it is well; for here no eye
Turns to the distant days gone by:
They have no legendary lore
Of deeds of glory done of yore,--
No knightly marvel-haunted years,
The nursery tales of adult ears:
The busy present, bright to come,
Of all their thoughts make up the sum:
Little their little past they heed;
Therefore of twilight have no need.
Yet wherefore write I thus? In the short span
Of narrow life doled out to every man,
Though he but reach the threshold of the track,
Where from youth's better path, strikes out the worse,
If he has breathed so long, nor once look'd back,
He has not borne life's load, nor known God's curse.
And yet, but for that glance that o'er and o'er
Goes tearfully, where we shall go no more;
Courting the sunny spots, where, for a day,
Our bark has found a harbour on its way;
O! but for this, this power of conjuring
Hours, days, and years into the magic ring,
Bidding them yield the show of happiness,
To make our real misery seem less,
Life would be dreary. But these memories start,
Sometimes, unbidden on the mourner's heart;
Unwish'd, unwelcome, round his thoughts they cling,--
In vain flung off, still dimly gathering,
Like melancholy ghosts, upon the path
Where he goes sadly, seeking only death.
Then live again the forms of those who lie
Gather'd into the grave's dark mystery.
Vainly at reason's voice the phantom flies,--
It comes, it still comes back to the fond eyes,--
Still, still the yearning arms are spread to clasp
The blessing that escapes their baffled grasp:
Still the bewildering memory mutters "Gone!"
Still, still the clinging aching heart loves on.
Oh, bitter! that the lips on which we pour
Love's fondest kisses, feel the touch no more;
Oh, lonely! that the voice on which we call
In agony, breaks not its silent thrall;
Oh, fearful! that the eyes in which we gaze
With desperate hope through their thick filmy haze,
Return no living look to bless our sight!
Oh, God! that it were granted that one might
But once behold the secret of the grave,--
That but one voice from the all-shrouding cave
Might speak,--that but one sleeper might emerge
From the deep death-sea's overwhelming surge!
Speak, speak from the grey coffins where ye lie
Fretting to dust your foul mortality!
Speak, from your homes of darkness and dismay,--
To what new being do ye pass away?--
O _do_ ye live, indeed?--speak, if on high
One atom springs whose doom is not to die!--
Where have I wandered?
* * * * *
* * * * *
_Saturday, 29th._
When I came down to breakfast, found a very pretty diamond ring and some
Scotch rhymes, from Mr. ----, what we call a small return of favours. I
wish my hand wasn't so abominably ugly,--I hate to put a ring upon it.
---- called to see if we would ride; but D---- had too much to do; and,
after sitting pottering for some time, I sang him the Messenger Bird,
and sent him away. Went for a few moments to Mrs. ----, who seemed much
better. Went out to pay sundry bills and visits. Called at Mr. ----'s,
and spent half an hour most delightfully in his study. His picture of my
father is very like, and very agreeable. 'Tis too youthful by a good
deal; but the expression of the face is extremely good, and upon the
whole, except that stern-looking thing of Kearsley's, 'tis the likest
thing I have seen of him. We had a long discussion about the
stage,--the dramatic art; which, as Helen says, "is none," for, "no art
but taketh time and pains to learn." Now I am a living and breathing
witness that a person may be accounted a good actor, and to a certain
degree deserve the title, without time or pains of any sort being
expended upon the acquisition of the reputation. But, on other grounds,
acting has always appeared to me to be the very lowest of the arts,
admitting that it deserves to be classed among them at all, which I am
not sure it does. In the first place, it originates nothing; it lacks,
therefore, the grand faculty which all other arts possess--creation. An
actor is at the best but the filler-up of the outline designed by
another,--the expounder, as it were, of things which another has set
down; and a fine piece of acting is at best, in my opinion, a fine
translation. Moreover, it is not alone to charm the senses that the
nobler powers of mind were given to man; 'tis not alone to enchant the
eye, that the gorgeous pallet of the painter, and the fine chisel of the
statuary, have become, through heavenly inspiration, magical wands,
summoning to life images of loveliness, of majesty, and grace; 'tis not
alone to soothe the ear that music has possessed, as it were, certain
men with the spirit of sweet sounds; 'tis not alone to delight the
fancy, that the poet's great and glorious power was given him, by which,
as by a spell, he peoples all space, and all time, with undying
witnesses of his own existence; 'tis not alone to minister to our senses
that these most beautiful capabilities were sown in the soil of our
souls. But 'tis that, through them, all that is most refined, most
excellent and noble, in our mental and moral nature, may be led through
their loveliness, as through a glorious archway, to the source of all
beauty and all goodness. It is that by them our perceptions of truth may
be made more vivid, our love of loveliness increased, our intellect
refined and elevated, our nature softened, our memory stored with images
of brightness, which, like glorious reflections, falling again upon our
souls, may tend to keep alive in them the knowledge of, and the desire
after, what is true, and fair, and noble. But, that art may have this
effect, it must be to a certain degree enduring. It must not be a
transient vision, which fades and leaves but a recollection of what it
was, which will fade too. It must not be for an hour, a day, or a year,
but abiding, inasmuch as any thing earthly may abide, to charm the sense
and cheer the soul of generation after generation. And here it is that
the miserable deficiency of acting is most apparent. Whilst the poems,
the sculptures, of the old Grecian time yet remain to witness to these
latter ages the enduring life of truth and beauty; whilst the poets of
Rome, surviving the trophies of her thousand victories, are yet familiar
in our mouths as household words; whilst Dante, Boccaccio, that giant,
Michael Angelo, yet live, and breathe, and have their being amongst us,
through the rich legacy their genius has bequeathed to time; whilst the
wild music of Salvator Rosa, solemn and sublime as his painting, yet
rings in our ears, and the souls of Shakspeare, Milton, Raphael, and
Titian, are yet shedding into our souls divinest influences from the
very fountains of inspiration;--where are the pageants that, night after
night, during the best era of dramatic excellence, riveted the gaze of
thousands, and drew forth their acclamations?--gone, like rosy sunset
clouds;--fair painted vapours, lovely to the sight, but vanishing as
dreams, leaving no trace in heaven, no token of their ever having been
there. Where are the labours of Garrick, of Macklin, of Cooke, of
Kemble, of Mrs. Siddons?--chronicled in the dim memories of some few of
their surviving spectators; who speak of them with an enthusiasm which
we, who never saw them, fancy the offspring of that feeling which makes
the old look back to the time of their youth as the only days when the
sun knew how to shine. What have these great actors left, either to
delight the sense or elevate the soul, but barren names, unwedded to a
single lasting evidence of greatness! If, then, acting be alike without
the creating power and the enduring property, which are at once the
highest faculty of art, and its most beneficial purpose, what becomes of
it when ranked with efforts displaying both in the highest degree? To me
it seems no art,[79] but merely a highly rational, interesting, and
exciting amusement; and I think men may as well, much better, perhaps,
spend three hours in a theatre than in a billiard or bar-room,--and this
is the extent of my approbation and admiration of my art. Called on Mrs.
----, whom I like very much. Went to the riding-school to try a new
horse, which was ten hands high, all covered with shaggy angry-looking
hair, with a donkey's head, and cart-horse legs, with one of which he
peached. ---- came to see me mount. Dr. ----'s grey horse was standing
in the school with a man's saddle on. I persuaded ---- to put me on it,
and I then sent him away.
* * * * *
* * * * *
When he was gone, rode for about an hour without any pommel, and found I
managed it famously. I slipped my foot out of the stirrup in order to
see if I could sit without both; but this proved rather too much, for I
presently slid very comfortably off. On my way home, met young ----,
with his head so completely in the clouds, that I had bowed to him, and
was driving on, when he just perceived me, and fell into a confusion of
bows, which he continued long after the coach had passed him. Found the
usual token of his having been at our house--a most beautiful nosegay;
roses, hyacinths, and myrtle. While I was arranging them, I heard a
tremendous shriek of laughter in the hall, which was followed by the
appearance of Mr. ----. After sitting with him some time, I went and sat
with Mrs. ----. The amiable Chargé d'Affaires dined with us. After
dinner, went to see Mrs. ----; but she was too unwell to receive me.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Saw Dr. ----, who expressed manifold deplorings at my departure: gave
him the words of the Sisters. At half-past five, went to the theatre:
play, the Wonder. I acted only so-so: my father was a _leetle dans les
vignes du Seigneur_. When the play was over, the folk called for us, and
we went on: he made them a neat speech, and I nothing but a cross face
and three courtesies. How I do hate this! 'Tis quite enough to exhibit
myself to a gaping crowd, when my profession requires that I should do
so in a feigned semblance; but to come bobbing and genuflexioning on, as
me myself, to be clapped and shouted at, and say, "Thank ye kindly," is
odious. After the play, dressed, and off to Mrs. ----, with my father
and Mr. ----. On our way thither, the spring of our coach broke, and we
had to go halting along for half an hour, with a graceful inclination
towards the pavement on one side, which was very pleasant. There was
quite a brilliant party at Mrs. ----'s. Told Mr. ---- that I had thrown
his horse down. Saw and spoke to all Philadelphia. ---- was there, and
actually sitting still. Fell in love with Mr. ----'s youngest son, who
is a youth of some ten years old, and hovers round me with a plenitude
of silent admiration and astonishment that is most delightful. Miss
----, who is a very pretty creature (in fact, all American women are
pretty creatures, I never saw any prettier), sang Dalla Gioga e del
Piacer. She sings very well, but pronounces Italian very Americanly,
which is a pity. I don't know any thing so necessary to good singing as
a good Italian pronunciation, _except_ perhaps a good voice, and a good
school. They made me sing, and I sang them the galley song, after which
Miss ---- warbled again. They were surrounding me again, with a shower
of "pray do's," when perceiving D---- making towards me, with my boa on
her arm, I sat down and sang them, "Yes, aunt, I am ready to go," to
their infinite edification. I wonder if Mrs. ---- would object to this;
I should think not, as ---- is not here to catch it again.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Came home, and supped. I had eaten nothing since four o'clock, and was
famished; for I do not like stewed oysters and terrapins, which are the
refreshments invariably handed round at an American evening party. Did
not get to bed till two o'clock. How beautifully bright the heavens are
here! The sky has an earnest colour that is lovely and solemn to look
at; and the moon, instead of being "the maiden with white fire laden,"
has a rich, mellow, golden light, than which nothing can be more
beautiful. The stars, too, are more vivid than in our skies, and there
is a variety of hues in their light which I never observed before,--some
reddish, some violet, and again others of the palest silver.
_Sunday, 30th._
After breakfast, Mr. ---- called, also ----, to know at what time we
would ride. I fixed at twelve, thereby calculating that we should escape
the people coming out from church. Went and sat a few minutes with Mrs.
----.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
Spent my Sunday morning on my knees, indeed, but packing, not praying.
The horses did not come till half-past twelve; so that, instead of
avoiding, we encountered the pious multitude. I'm sure when we mounted
there were not less than a hundred and fifty beholders round the Mansion
House. Rode out to Laurel Hill. The cross road was muddy, so we took the
turnpike, which was clean and short, and would have been pleasant enough
but for my brute of a horse. Upon my word, these American horses are
most unsafe to ride. I never mount one but I recommend myself to the
care of Heaven, for I expect to have every bone in my body broken before
I dismount again. At Laurel Hill we lunched. While D---- put up her
hair, ---- and I ran down to the water side. The ice had melted from the
river, in whose still waters the shores, and trees, and bridge lay
mirrored with beautiful and fairy-like distinctness. The long icicles
under the rocky brow beneath which we stood had not melted away, though
the warm sun was shining brilliantly on them, and making the granite
slab on which we stood sparkle like a pavement of diamonds. I called to
the echo, and sang to it scales up, and scales down, and every manner of
musical discourse I could think of, during which interesting amusement I
as nearly as possible slipped from my footing into the river, which
caused both ---- and myself to gulp. We left our pleasant sunny stand at
last, to rejoin D---- and the lunch, and, having eaten and drunken, we
remounted and proceeded on to Manayunk, under the bright, warm, blessed
sunshine, which came down like a still shining shower upon the earth.
The beautiful little water-courses had all broken from their diamond
chains, and came dancing and singing down the hills, between the cedar
bushes, and the masses of grey granite, like merry children laughing as
they run. After crossing the bridge at Flat Rock, I took the van, riding
by myself much faster than my companions, whom I left to entertain each
other. Several times, as I looked down at the delicious fresh water, all
rosy with the rosy light of the clouds, and gushing round the masses of
rock that intercepted their channel, I longed to jump off my horse, and
go down among their shallow brilliant eddies. The whole land was mellow
with warm sunset, the sky soft, and bright, and golden, like a dream. I
stopped for a long time opposite the Wissihiccon creek. The stone
bridge, with its grey arch, mingled with the rough blocks of rock on
which it rested, the sheet of foaming water falling like a curtain of
gold over the dam among the dark stones below, on whose brown sides the
ruddy sunlight and glittering water fell like splinters of light. The
thick, bright, rich tufted cedars basking in the warm amber glow, the
picturesque mill, the smooth open field along whose side the river
waters, after receiving this child of the mountains into their bosom,
wound deep, and bright, and still, the whole radiant with the softest
light I ever beheld, formed a most enchanting and serene subject of
contemplation. Further on, I stopped again, to look at a most beautiful
mass of icicles, formed by some water falling from a large wooden
conduit which belonged to a mill. The long thick masses of silvery white
clung in downward pyramids together, and on the ground, great round
balls of purest transparent ice, like enormous crystal grapes, lay
clustered upon each other. I waited on a little sunny knoll above this
glittering fairy work, till my companions joined me, when, leaving D----
to pursue the main road, ---- and I turned off, and explored a pretty
ravine, down which another mountain stream, half free wild water, half
shimmering diamond ice, sparkled in the sunset. We reached Philadelphia
at half-past four, and had again to canter down Chestnut Street just as
the folks were all coming from church, which caused no little staring,
and turning of heads. My father asked ---- to dine with us, but he
refused. Mr. ---- dined with us. After dinner, went in to pay my last
visit to my poor sick friend. I sat with her until summoned to see some
gentlemen in the drawing-room. It pained me to part from her; for
though she exerted herself bravely, she was very much overcome. I fear
she will miss me, poor thing; I had become very much attached to her. I
went in to bid Mrs. ---- good-by. ---- was not gone to bed; I took her
in my arms and kissed her, saying I should not see her for a long time
again. The tears came into her baby eyes, and she said very sadly, "God
bless you, Fanny." How curious a train of associations that word
produced in me! It brought ----, and Lord ----, and that beautiful
creature his child, before my very eyes. But her father had told little
Lady ---- to say that,--I am sure he did; now this little creature
blessed me out of her own heart. A child's blessing is a holy thing.
Came into the drawing-room. Found Dr. ----, young Mr. ----, and Mr. ----
there. Presently, Mr. ---- came in, with Baron ----, a man with a thick
head, thick white hair, that stood out round it like a silver halo, and
gold ear-rings. I sang to them till past ten o'clock, and then came to
my own room, where I remained up packing and pottering until past two.
_Monday, 31st._
The river being yet open, thank Heaven, we arose at half-past four
o'clock. Dressed sans dawdling for once, and came down.
* * * * *
* * * * *
D---- and I were bundled into a coach, and rumbled and tumbled over the
stones, through the blackness of darkness down to the steam-boat. ----
was waiting for us, and convoyed us safely to the cabin, where I laid
myself down, and slept till breakfast-time. My father, Captain ----, Mr.
----, and Baron ----, sat themselves down most comfortably to breakfast,
leaving us entirely to the charge and care of ----, who fulfilled his
trust with infinite zeal. 'Tis curious; there was a man on board whom I
have now seen every time I have been going to or from New York to
Philadelphia, whose appearance was in itself very remarkable, and the
subsequent account I received of him perhaps increased the sort of
impression it made upon me. He was a man of about from thirty to
thirty-five, _I guess_, standing about five feet ten, with a great
appearance of strength and activity. His face was that of a foreigner,
the features were remarkably well cut, and the piercing black eyes, dark
hair, and brown complexion, gave a Spanish character to his
countenance. There was a sort of familiar would-be gentlemanly manner in
his deportment and address, and a species of slang gentility in his
carriage and conversation, that gave me a curiosity to ascertain what on
earth he could be. After breakfast, walked up and down deck with ----.
---- was on board. I am happy to hear he is thriving: I love all my
fellow-passengers; and when I see one of them, my heart warms towards
them, as to a bit of the dear old land left behind. After about an
hour's steaming, we disembarked to cross the narrow neck of land which
divides the Delaware from the Chesapeake. Here we got into a coach
holding some twelve of us, to be conveyed over the rail-road by one of
Stevenson's engines. Neither the road nor the conveyances are comparable
to those of the Liverpool and Manchester rail-way; and instead of those
luxurious roomy coaches, which form the merit of the Liverpool train, we
were squeezy and uncomfortable to a degree. The country along this slip
of land is flat and very uninteresting, clothed with threadbare young
woods, whose thin spare skeletons, without their leafy mantles, looked
excessively miserable. The distance from the Delaware to Frenchtown, on
the Elk, where we were again to take water, is about sixteen miles,
which we did in an hour. The first part of the road lies in Delaware,
the latter in Maryland. The Elk, which in this world of huge waters is
considered but a paltry ditch, but which in our country would be thought
a very decent-sized river, was, a few days ago, frozen up, thereby
putting a stop to the steam-boat travelling. But, fortunately for us, it
was open to-day, and presently we beheld the steamer coming puffing up
to take us from the pier. This boat--the Charles Carroll--is one of the
finest they have. 'Tis neither so swift nor so large, I think, as some
of the North river boats, but it is a beautiful vessel, roomy and
comfortable in its arrangements. I went below for a few minutes, but
found, as usual, the atmosphere of the cabin perfectly intolerable. The
ladies' cabin, in winter, on board one of these large steamers, is a
right curious sight. 'Tis generally crammed to suffocation with women,
_strewn_ in every direction. The greater number cuddle round a stove,
the heat of which alone would make the atmosphere unbreathable. Others
sit lazily in a species of rocking-chair,--which is found wherever
Americans sit down,--cradling themselves backwards and forwards, with a
lazy, lounging, sleepy air, that makes me long to make them get up and
walk. Others again manage, even upon fresh water, to be very sick.
There are generally a dozen young human beings, some naughty, sick, and
squalling, others happy, romping, and riotous; and what with the
vibratory motion of the rocking-chairs and their contents, the women's
shrill jabber, the children's shriller wailing and shouting, the heat
and closeness of the air, a ladies' cabin on board an American
steam-boat is one of the most overpowering things to sense and soul that
can well be imagined. There was a poor sick woman with three children,
among our company, two of which were noisy unruly boys, of from eight to
ten years old. One of them set up a howl as soon as he came on board,
which he prolonged, to our utter dismay, for upwards of half an hour
sans intermission, except to draw breath. I bore it as long as I could;
but threats, entreaties, and bribes having been resorted to in vain, by
all the women in the cabin, to silence him, I at length very composedly
took him up in my arms, and deposited him on his back in one of the
upper berths; whereupon his brother flew at his mother, kicking,
thumping, screaming, and yelling. The cabin was in an uproar; the little
wretch I held in my arms struggled like a young giant, and though I
succeeded in lodging him upon the upper shelf, presently slid down from
it like an eel. However, this effort had a salutary effect, for it
obtained silence,--the crying gave way to terror, which produced
silence, of which I availed myself to sleep till dinner-time. At dinner,
---- and Mr. ---- took charge of D---- and me, who, seeing that we were
to get no dinner till six o'clock, thought fit to eat some lunch. The
strange dark man was sitting opposite us, and discoursing away to his
neighbours in a strain and tone in which shrewdness and swagger, and
vulgarity and a sort of braggart gallantry, were curiously jumbled. From
his conversation, it was evident that he was a seafaring man. He spoke
of having been a midshipman on board an American frigate. The question
they were debating was that of superstitious prejudice, involving belief
in lucky and unlucky days, witches, ghosts, etc. The stranger professed
perfect faith in all, and added sundry experiences of his own, at the
same time observing, that with regard to sailors, the strong prejudice
they have against sailing on certain days often creates the very ill
luck they apprehend; for if any danger should occur, 'tis all attributed
to evil influences against which they have no power, and they are at
once deprived of half their energy in labour, and half their courage in
peril. When dinner was over, I pointed out this strange man to my
father, asking him if he had any idea who he was. "I am told," was his
reply, "that he is but just returned from New York, where he has been
tried for piracy." This accounted for every thing,--dare-devil look and
language, seafaring adventures, and superstitious creed. It is a
pleasant mode of travelling that throws one into contact with such
company.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Touching pirates, Baltimore, I was told (I know not how truly) is famous
for them. They have small schooners there of a particularly light build,
and raking masts, which are the prettiest craft in the world to look at,
and the swiftest that sail sea. The Baltimore clippers are proverbial
for their elegance and fleetness: they are like greyhounds on the water.
These, I was told, were frequently owned by gentlemen of rather an
ambiguous character, something between pirate, smuggler, and wrecker,
perhaps a judicious compound of all three. Their trade is chiefly, I
believe, with and about the West India islands. I looked at my
Spanish-faced friend with redoubled curiosity: he was the very man for a
pirate. We reached Baltimore at about half-past four. The Chesapeake
bay, like the Delaware river, appeared to me admirable only as an
immense sheet of water. At some parts that we passed, it was six, at
others, ten, at others, thirteen miles across. The shores were flat and
uninteresting on one side, but on the other occasionally very
picturesque and beautiful, rising in red-looking cliffs from the water's
edge, and crowned with beautiful green tufts of wood--cedar, I suppose,
for nothing else is green at this time. The curvings of the shore, too,
are very pretty; but, owing to the enormous width of the water, my
imperfect vision could hardly discern the peculiar features of the land.
The day was more lovely than a fine day in early September, in
England,--bright, soft and sunny, with the blue in the sky of the
delicate colour one sees in the Sèvres porcelain. As we entered the
Patapsco, and neared Baltimore, North Point and Fort M'Henry were
pointed out to me. My spirits always sink when I come to a strange
place; and as we came along the wharf sides, under the red dingy-looking
warehouses, between which the water ran in narrow dark-looking canals, I
felt terribly gloomy. We drove up to Barnham's, the best house in the
town; and, having found out where to lay my head, I had my fill of
crying.[80] After dinner, went and lay down; slept profoundly till nine
o'clock. On my return to the drawing-room, found ---- there, and Mr.
----, the man who owns the Front Street theatre, but who it seems is
only just out of gaol, and has neither actors nor scenes to get up a
play withal. While he was here, came missives from the proprietors of
the Holliday Street theatre, to inform my father that it was lighted up,
and requesting him to come and look at it. This was awkward rather. When
Mr. ---- was gone, I came to my room, where I remained without a fire,
cold without and disconsolate within, till past one o'clock. I did not
know it was New-Year's eve; and so the waters carried me over this other
dam without my looking back at what was past, or forward at what is to
come: and why should I?--surely "the thing that hath been, it is that
which shall be; and that which is done, is that which shall be done; and
there is no new thing under the sun:" sorrow and joy, hoping and
fearing, pain and pleasure, laughing and weeping, striving and
yielding,--they will all come again and again, and all things will be
the same, till all things cease.
_Tuesday, January, 1st_, }
_New-Year's Day_, } 1833.
There it lies in its cradle! its pure forehead yet unstained by sin,
unfurrowed by care; and not an hour shall have passed without the traces
of both becoming visible. And where is the mother gone? where is the
fulfilled year?--Gone sorrowing to join the crowd of ancestors, who
witness each against me for the unthrift waste I have made of the rich
legacies they one by one have bestowed on me. Oh, new-born year! ere
half thy hours are spent, how often will my weary spirit have wished
them fleeter wings than even those they wear! What secrets are there
folded in thy breast,--what undreamt-of chances,--what strange
befallings,--what unforeseen sorrows,--what unexpected joys! Perhaps,
in the mysterious accomplishments with which thou art laden, my death
may be numbered!--perhaps, ere thy course be duly run, the death of Time
may be decreed! Oh! this life, and all things in it, remind me of the
thin veils of spiders' webs which divided Desire from his aim, and
which, though light and transparent, were so numerous, that to lift them
all away was hopeless. After breakfast, began writing journal. 'Twas not
until dating it that I discovered it was New-year's day. When I did so,
and looked at my strange surroundings, at the gloomy wintry sky, and
thought of the heathenish disregard with which I was passing over, in
this far land, the season of home-gathering and congregating of kin in
my own country, I could not refrain from crying bitterly. In spite of
the pouring rain, and Mr. ----'s hints to keep us away, my father, who
wished to ascertain the truth of the reports with regard to the state of
his theatre, set forward thither with me. We found a very large handsome
house, larger, I think, than the Park, but dirty, dilapidated, and
looking as if there had been eleven executions in it that morning. No
actors, scarcely any scenes,--in short, such a state of things as
rendered it totally impossible for us to think of acting there. Came
home; sat diligently crying the whole morning. The afternoon cleared up,
and became soft and sunny. My father insisted on my taking a walk; so I
bonneted and set out with him. What I saw of the town appeared to me
extremely like the outskirts of Birmingham or Manchester. Bright-red
brick houses, in rows of three and five, with interesting gaps of
gravel-pits, patches of meadow, and open spaces between, which give it
an untidy straggling appearance. They are building in every direction,
however, and in less than two years, these little pauses being filled
up, Baltimore will be a very considerable place; for it covers, in its
present state, a large extent of ground, and contains a vast population.
Immediately after dinner, our host made his entrée with a piano-forte. I
had suggested to Mr. ---- that I should be glad of one; and here it
came. I had asked him to return in the evening, and was glad of the
piano, for it helps the time away. At six o'clock, the managers of the
Holliday Street theatre made their appearance; and my father stating
that Mr. ---- was literally unable to fulfil his engagement with us,
entered into arrangements with them, during which I sat up at a
tremendously high window, looking at the beautiful serious skies, and
radiant moon, and listening to a tolerable band playing sundry of
Rossini's airs. When these men had departed, ---- came in. I sang and
made him sing till tea-time. After that, he entertained us with a very
long, but not very clear, account of the various processes of making,
polishing, etc. steel, as practised in his manufactory. His account of
their hard dealings with the poorer manufacturers was dreadful; and he
himself spoke with horror of it, saying, "Oh, they are so miserably
ground, poor wretches, they cannot be said to live,--they barely exist."
When I remonstrated with him upon the wickedness of such proceedings, he
replied, "We are compelled to do it in self-defence: if we did not use
the same means as other manufacturers, we should presently be
undersold." And this is the game playing all over England at this
moment, in every department of her commerce and manufacture,--this cruel
oppression of the poor, this forcing them by a league against them, as
it were, to toil in bitterness for their scanty daily bread, while those
who thus inhumanly depreciate their labour, and wring their hard
earnings from their starving grasp, grow wealthy on their plunder. Are
not these the things for which God has said he will avenge? Is his
abomination of the false balance, and the stinted measure, and the
unjust reckoning, less than in the days when he said he would visit the
oppressor of the poor, and plead the cause of the widow and fatherless?
Are not these the things that make a nation rotten at core, and ripe for
decay? Are not these the things for which retribution is laid up, and
fourfold restitution will be demanded?--'Tis awful to think of. From
this the conversation grew to the means of obtaining interest upon money
in this country, which the gentlemen discussed together for a length of
time. I listened to them with many sad thoughts. How intent they seemed
in their discourse, how much they appeared to value every slightest
advantage of place or circumstance which enabled them to draw a greater
profit from their capital; how eagerly, how earnestly, they seemed
absorbed in these calculations. I do not know when I have been so
forcibly struck with the worthlessness of money, and the strange
delusion under which all men seem to be labouring, giving up their
lives, as they do, to the hunting of wealth. Are these the cares that
should engross the faculties of immortal souls, and rational thinking
creatures? That we must live, I know, and that money is necessary to
live, I know; but that our glorious capacities of soul, mind, and body,
the fitting exercise of which alone, in itself, is happiness, should
thus be chained down to the altar horns of Mammon, is what I never will
believe wise, right, or fitting. I at length spoke, for my heart was
burning within me, and burst into an eloquent lamentation on the folly
and misery of which the world was guilty in following this base worship
as it does. But when I said that I was convinced happiness might and did
exist most blessedly upon half the means which men spent their lives in
scraping together, my father laughed, and said I was the last person in
the world who could live on little, or be content with the mediocrity I
vaunted. I looked at my satin gown, and held my tongue, but still I was
not convinced. We returned to our music till ten o'clock, when they had
some supper, after which they drank a happy new year to England:--poor
old England, God bless it! At about twelve o'clock, ---- departed. Sat
up a long time at the window, listening to some serenading, which, in
the moonlight, sounded pleasantly enough.[81]
_Sunday, 6th._
At about half-past ten, Mr. ---- called for us, and we walked up to the
cathedral, which is a large unfinished stone building, standing on the
brow of a hill, which is to be the fashionable quarter of the town, and
where there are already some very nice-looking houses. The interior of
the church is large and handsome, and has more the look of a church than
any thing I have been inside of in this country yet. 'Tis full eight
years since I was in a Catholic church; and the sensation with which I
approached the high altar, with its golden crucifix, its marble
entablatures, and its glimmering starry lights, savoured fully as much
of sadness as devotion. I have not been in a Catholic place of worship
since I was at school. How well I remember the beautiful music of the
military mass, the pageants and processions of the feast days at high
mass, and the evening service, not vespers, but the Salut.[82] They sang
that exquisitely mournful and beautiful _Et incarnatus est_, of
Haydn's, which made my blood all run backwards. One thing disgusted me
dreadfully, though the priests who were officiating never passed or
approached the altar without bending the knee to it, they kept spitting
all over the carpet that surrounded and covered the steps to it,
interrupting themselves in the middle of the service to do so, without
the slightest hesitation. We had a very indifferent sermon: the service
was of course in Latin. When it was over, Mr. ---- insisted on showing
me some paintings which hung on either side the grand entrance. These
were a couple of pictures by Paulin Guerin; the one representing the
descent from the cross, the other, the burying of the dead, by St.
Charles, in the Holy Land. I do not understand much about bad pictures,
but I know good ones when I see them; and I think these were not such.
There was no beauty of imagination or poetical conception whatever in
them, and there appeared to me to be manifold glaring faults in the
execution. I could have sworn to their being French pictures. Was
introduced to several people, coming out of church. A little way beyond
the cathedral stands Washington's monument,--a _neat and appropriate_
pillar,--which, together with a smaller one erected at the head of our
street, to the memory of the North Point heroes, has given Baltimore the
appellation of the monumental city, which never could have befallen it
in any other country under heaven but this. At eight o'clock, we went to
Mrs. ----'s. They are all in deep mourning, and the circle was very
small. They are most agreeable pleasant people, with a peculiar
gentleness of manner, like very high breeding, which I have often
observed in Catholics of the better orders. Their conversation appeared
to me totally divested of the disagreeable accent which seems almost
universal in this country. Mrs. ---- talked to me about my aunt
Whitelock, and what a charming actress she was, and what an enchanting
thrilling voice she had. I spent a delightful evening. Before we went
away, Mr. ---- showed us a picture of Lady ----, by Lawrence. It looked
quite refreshing, with its lovely dark curls unfrizzed, and the form of
the neck and arms undisguised by the hideousness of modern fashions. Saw
a very good likeness, too, of the Duke of ----. 'Twas very like him,
though many years younger.
* * * * *
* * * * *
* * * * *
By the by, somebody said that ---- had turned Roman Catholic, and very
devout. Some of the Marys and Magdalens of the old Italian painters are
very converting pictures, with their tearful melancholy eyes, and
golden, glorious, billowy hair. Mrs. ---- amused me very much by her
account of the slaves on their estates, whom, she said, she found the
best and most faithful servants in the world. Being born upon the land,
there exists among them something of the old spirit of clanship, and
"our house," "our family," are the terms by which they designate their
owners. In the south, there are no servants but blacks; for the greater
proportion of domestics being slaves, all species of servitude whatever
is looked upon as a degradation; and the slaves themselves entertain the
very highest contempt for white servants, whom they designate as "poor
white trash."
_Monday, 7th._
Young ---- called, and stayed about an hour with us. At half-past five,
took coffee, and off to the theatre. The play was Romeo and Juliet; the
house was extremely full: they are a delightful audience. My Romeo had
gotten on a pair of trunk breeches, that looked as if he had borrowed
them from some worthy Dutchman of a hundred years ago. Had he worn them
in New York, I could have understood it as a compliment to the ancestry
of that good city; but here, to adopt such a costume in Romeo, was
really perfectly unaccountable. They were of a most unhappy choice of
colours, too,--dull, heavy-looking blue cloth, and offensive crimson
satin, all be-puckered, and be-plaited, and be-puffed, till the young
man looked like a magical figure growing out of a monstrous strange
coloured-melon, beneath which descended his unfortunate legs, thrust
into a pair of red slippers, for all the world like Grimaldi's legs _en
costume_ for clown. The play went off pretty smoothly, except that they
broke one man's collar-bone, and nearly dislocated a woman's shoulder by
flinging the scenery about. My bed was not made in time, and when the
scene drew, half a dozen carpenters in patched trowsers and tattered
shirt-sleeves were discovered smoothing down my pillows, and adjusting
my draperies. The last scene is too good not to be given verbatim:--
ROMEO. Rise, rise, my Juliet,
And from this cave of death, this house of horror,
Quick let me snatch thee to thy Romeo's arms.
Here he pounced upon me, plucked me up in his arms like an uncomfortable
bundle, and staggered down the stage with me.
JULIET. (_aside._) Oh, you've got me up horridly!--that'll never
do; let me down, pray let me down.
ROMEO. There, breathe a vital spirit on thy lips,
And call thee back, my soul, to life and love!
JULIET. (_aside._) Pray put me down; you'll certainly throw me down
if you don't set me on the ground directly.
In the midst of "cruel cursed fate," his dagger fell out of his dress;
I, embracing him tenderly, crammed it back again, because I knew I
should want it at the end.
ROMEO. Tear not our heart-strings thus! They crack! they
break!--Juliet! Juliet! (_dies._)
JULIET. (_to corpse._) Am I smothering you?
CORPSE. (_to Juliet._) Not at all; could you be so kind, do you
think, as to put my wig on again for me?--it has fallen off.
JULIET. (_to corpse._) I'm afraid I can't, but I'll throw my
muslin veil over it. You've broken the phial, haven't you?
(_Corpse nodded._)
JULIET. (_to corpse._) Where's your dagger?
CORPSE. (_to Juliet._) 'Pon my soul, I don't know.
_Sunday, 13th._
By half-past ten we were packed in what in this country is termed an
_exclusive extra_, _i. e._ a stage-coach to ourselves, and progressing
towards Washington. The coach was comfortable enough, and the country,
for the first twelve or fifteen miles, owing to the abominable account I
had heard of it from every body, disappointed me rather agreeably. It
was by no means so dreary or desolate as I had been led to expect. There
was considerable variety in its outline, and the quantity of cedar
thickets scattered over it took away from the comfortless threadbare
look of the wintry woods. Threadbare, indeed, the trees can scarce be
called; for the leaves of the black oak, instead of falling as they
fade, remain upon the branches, and give the trees more the effect of
being lightning-struck, or accidentally blasted, than withered by the
fair course of the seasons. I think the effect is more disagreeable than
that of absolutely bare leafless boughs. When near, the trees look
singularly deplorable and untidy, although at the distance, the
red-brown of the faded oaks mingling with the bright, vivid, green
cedars, and here and there a silver-barked buttonwood tree raising its
white delicate branches from among them, produce a very agreeable and
harmonious blending to the eye. The soil, the banks by the road-side,
and broken ridges of ravines, and water-courses, attracted my attention
by the variety and vividness of their colours; the brightest red and
yellow, and then again pale green, and rich warm gravel-colour. I wished
I had been a geologist. How much pleasure of reflection and
contemplation is lost to the ignorant, whose outward sense wanders over
the objects that surround it, deriving from them but half the delight
that they give the wise and well-informed; even fancy is at fault, for
fancy itself scarce devises images more strange, and beautiful, and
wonderful, than the reality of things presents to those who understand
their properties and natures. The waters were all fast frozen up, and
one or two little pools, all curdled with ice, and locked up in deep
gravelly basins, looked like onyx stones set in gold. As for the road,
we had been assured it was exceedingly good; but mercy on us! I can't
think of it without aching. Here we went up, up, up, and there we went
down, down, down,--now, I was in my father's lap, and now I was half out
of window. The utter impossibility of holding one's self in any one
position for two minutes is absolutely ridiculous. Sometimes we laughed,
and at other times we groaned, at our helpless and hopeless condition;
but at last we arrived, with no bones broken, at about three o'clock, at
the capital and seat of government of the United States.[83] Upon the
height immediately above the city is situated the Capitol, a very
handsome building, of which the Americans are not a little proud; but it
seems placed there by mistake, so little do the miserable untidy hovels
above, and the scattered unfinished red-brick town below, accord with
its patrician marble and high-sounding title. We drove to Gadsby's,
which is an inn like a little town, with more wooden galleries, flights
of steps, passages, door-ways, exits, and entrances, than any building I
ever saw: it reminded me of the house in Tieck's Love-charm. We had not
been arrived a quarter of an hour, when in walked Mr. ---- and Captain
----, and presently Mr. ----. They sat for some time discussing,
laughing, quizzing, and being funny, and then departed. Captain ---- was
telling us a story about a man somewhere up in the lost lands, who was
called Philemon, and whose three sons were paganed (christened, I
suppose, one can't say,) Romulus, Remus, and Tiberius. I thought this
was too good to be true; and D---- and I, laughing over it at dinner,
agreed that we wished any thing of the sort had happened to us. "Some
bread, waiter: what is your name?" said I to the black who was waiting
upon us. "Horatius!" was the reply; which sent me and D---- into fits.
_Monday, 14th._
When I came in to breakfast, found Mr. ----, whom I like mainly. While
he was here, Dr. ---- and ---- came in. I gave the latter a most
tremendous grasp of the hand: it was like seeing a bit of England to see
him. He said to me, "Oh, how strange it is to see you here;" which
caused my eyes to fill with tears, for, Heaven knows, it feels strange
enough. They had hardly been seated two minutes, when in rushed a boy to
call us to rehearsal. I was as vexed as might be. They all departed;
---- faithfully promising to come again, and have a long talk about the
old country: we then set forth to rehearsal. The theatre is the tiniest
little box that ever was seen,--not much bigger, I verily think, than
the baby's play-house at Versailles. When I came to perceive who the
company were, and that sundry of our Baltimore comrades were come on
hither, I begged to be excused from rehearsing, as they had all done
their parts but a few days before with me. At about two o'clock, Mr.
---- came to take us to the Capitol. Mr. ---- was in the drawing-room.
He had just seen the President; and it seems, that far from coming to
any accommodation with the South Carolinians, there is an immediate
probability of their coming to blows. They say, the old General is
longing for a fight; and, most assuredly, to fight would be better, in
this instance, than to give in; for to yield would be virtually to admit
the right of every individual state to dictate to the whole government.
We walked up to the Capitol: the day was most beautifully bright and
sunny, and the mass of white building, with its terraces and columns,
stood out in fine relief against the cloudless blue sky. We went first
into the senate, or upper house, because Webster was speaking, whom I
especially wished to hear. The room itself is neither large nor lofty;
the senators sit in two semi-circular rows, turned towards the
President, in comfortable arm-chairs. On the same ground, and literally
sitting among the senators, were a whole regiment of ladies, whispering,
talking, laughing, and fidgeting. A gallery, level with the floor, and
only divided by a low partition from the main room, ran round the
apartment: this, too, was filled with pink, and blue, and yellow
bonnets; and every now and then, while the business of the house was
going on, and Webster speaking, a tremendous bustle, and waving of
feathers, and rustling of silks, would be heard, and in came streaming a
reinforcement of political beauties, and then would commence a jumping
up, a sitting down, a squeezing through, and a how-d'-ye-doing, and a
shaking of hands. The senators would turn round; even Webster would
hesitate, as if bothered by the row, and, in short, the whole thing was
more irregular, and unbusiness-like, than any one could have
imagined.[84] Webster's face is very remarkable, particularly the
forehead and eyes. The former projects singularly, absolutely
overhanging the latter, which have a very melancholy, and occasionally
rather wild, expression. The subject upon which he was speaking was not
one of particular interest,--an estimate of the amount of French
spoliations, by cruizers and privateers, upon the American commerce. The
heat of the room was intolerable; and after sitting till I was nearly
suffocated, we adjourned to the House of Representatives. On our way
thither, we crossed a very beautiful circular vestibule, which holds the
centre of the building. It was adorned with sundry memorable passages in
American history, done into pictures by Colonel Trumbull. In the House
of Representatives we were told we should hear nothing of interest, so
turned off, under Mr. ----'s escort, to the Library, which is a
comfortable well-sized room, where we looked over Audubon's Ornithology,
a beautiful work, and saw a man sitting, with his feet upon the table,
reading, which is an American fashion. Met half the New York world
there. After we had stayed there some time, we went into the House of
Representatives. The room itself is lofty and large, and very handsome,
but extremely ill-constructed for the voice, which is completely lost
among the columns, and only reaches the gallery, where listeners are
admitted, in indistinct and very unedifying murmurs. The members not
unfrequently sit with their feet upon their desks. We walked out upon
the terrace, and looked at the view of the Potomac, and the town, which,
in spite of the enlivening effect of an almost summer's sky, looked
dreary and desolate in the extreme. We then returned home. At half-past
five, we went to the theatre. We were a long time before we could
discover, among the intricate dark little passages, our own private
entrance, and were as nearly as possible being carried into the pit by a
sudden rush of spectators making their way thither: I wish we had been;
I think I should like to have seen myself very much. The theatre is
absolutely like a doll's play-house: it was completely crammed with
people. I played ill; I cannot act tragedy within half a yard of the
people in the boxes. By the by, a theatre may very easily be too small
for tragedies which is admirably adapted to comedies. In the latter
species of dramatic representations, the incidents, characters, manners,
and dresses, are, for the most part, modern,--such as we meet with, or
can easily imagine, in our own drawing-rooms, and among our own society.
There is little if any exaggeration of colouring necessary, and no great
exertion of fancy needful either in the actor or audience in executing
and witnessing such a performance. On the contrary, comedy,--high
comedy,--generally embodying the manners, tone, and spirit of the higher
classes of society, the smaller the space, consistent with ease and
grace of carriage, in which such personifications take place, the less
danger there is of the actor's departing from that natural, quiet, and
refined deportment and delivery, which are, in the present day, the
general characteristics of polished society. 'Tis otherwise with tragic
representations. They are unnatural, not positively, but comparatively
unnatural; the incidents are, for the most part, strange, startling,
unusual; and though they always must be within possibility, in order to
excite the sympathies of beholders,--though some of them may even be
historical facts,--yet they are, for the most part, events which come
within the probabilities of few of us, and this renders necessary a
degree of excitement and elevation in the mind of the spectator, foreign
to, and at variance with, the critical spirit of prosaic reality. Again,
the scene of a comedy is generally a drawing-room; and the smaller the
stage, the greater is the possibility of rendering it absolutely like
what we all have seen, and are daily in the habit of seeing; but to
represent groves and mountains, or lakes, or the dwellings of the kings
of the earth, satisfactorily to the spectator's mind, there must be a
certain distance observed, from which the fancy may take its stand for
the best perception of what is intended. Whereas, in closer contact with
such scenes, not only does their immediate proximity convey an
unpleasing consciousness of the unreality of the whole, but the near and
absolute detail of paint, canvass, and gilding, is obtruded in a manner
that destroys all illusion, and, by disturbing the effect of the whole
upon the spectator, necessarily weakens that part which depends solely
upon the actor. The same thing applies to dress. Foil-stone, paste, and
coloured glass, by French ingenuity have been manufactured into toys,
which, with the help of distance, may be admitted as representing the
splendours of Eastern costume, or even the glittering trappings of those
gaudy little superhumans, the fairies. But nearness utterly dissolves
the spell, and these substitutes for magnificence become palpable
impositions, and very often most ludicrous ones. I have often been
accused of studying my attitudes; but the truth is, that most things
that are presented to my imagination, instead of being mere
abstractions, immediately assume form and colour, and become pictures;
these I constantly execute on the stage as I had previously seen them in
my fancy: but as few pictures as large as life admit of being seen to
best effect immediately close to the spectator, so the whole effect
produced by a graceful attitude, fine colours, or skilful grouping on
the stage, is considerably diminished when the space is restricted, and
the audience brought too near the performers. So much for little
theatres. ---- came in after the play. He told us that as he was coming
out of the theatre, a Kentuckian accosted him with, "Well, what do you
think of that 'ere _gal_?"--"Oh," hesitatingly replied ----, "I don't
quite know."--"Well," retorted the questioner, "any how, I guess she's
o' some account!"
_Tuesday, 15th._
At eleven o'clock, Mr. ---- called. Went with him to see the original of
the Declaration of Independence, also a few medals, for the most part
modern ones, and neither of much beauty or curiosity. Afterwards went to
the War-Office, where we saw sundry Indian properties,--bows and arrows,
canoes, smoking-pipes, and, what interested me much more, the pictures
of a great many savage chiefs, and one or two Indian women. The latter
were rather pretty: the men were not any of them handsome; scorn round
the mouth, and cunning in the eyes, seemed to be the general
characteristic of all their faces. There was a portrait of Red Jacket,
which gave me a most unpoetical low-life impression of that great
palaverer. The names of many of them delighted me,--as, _the Ever-awake;
the Man that stands and strikes; the North Wind_. One of the women's
names amused me a great deal,--_the Woman that spoke first_; which title
occasioned infinite surmise among us as to the occasion on which she
earned it. After we had done seeing what was to be seen, we went on to
the President's house, which is a comfortless handsome-looking building,
with a withered grass-plot enclosed in wooden palings in front, and a
desolate reach of uncultivated ground down to the river behind. Mr. ----
gave us a most entertaining account of the levees, or rather public
days, at the President's house. Every human being has a right to present
himself there; the consequence is, that great numbers of the very
commonest sort of people used to rush in, and follow about the servants
who carried refreshments, seizing upon whatever they could get, and
staring and pushing about, to the infinite discomfiture of the more
respectable and better-behaved part of the assembly. Indeed, the
nuisance became so great, that they discontinued the eatables, and in
great measure got rid of the crowd. Mr. ---- assured me that on one of
these occasions, two _ladies_ had themselves lifted up and seated on the
chimney-piece, in order to have a better view of the select
congregation beneath them. Mr. ---- left us to go to the Capitol, and
we came home. ----, Mr. ----, and Captain ---- called. We sat discussing
names; which, in this country, are certainly more ambitious than in any
other in the world.[85] Besides Captain ----'s classical family, Mr.
---- assured us that he knew of a man whose name was _Return Jonathan
Meigs_; and ---- swore to one in New York called _Alonzo Leontes
Agamemnon Beaugardus_. I have myself seen a _Harmanus Boggs_, _Aquila
Jones_, and _Alpheus Brett_; but I have not been favoured with an
acquaintance with any such names as they quoted. ---- appears to me
altered since I saw him in England. He was always silent, and quiet, and
gentle; but there was an air of complacency and contented cheerfulness
about him, which I think he has very much lost: he looks sad and
careworn. I was sorry to see it. After dinner, sat writing journal. Mr.
---- came in and sat some time with us. He is very clever and agreeable,
and I like him greatly.
_Wednesday, 16th._
After breakfast, went to rehearsal. At half past twelve, Mr. ---- came
to ride with me. The horse he had gotten for me was base; but never
mind, the day was exquisitely mild and bright,--the sort of early
spring-feeling day, when in England the bright gold and pale delicate
violet of the crocus buds begin to break the rich dark mould, and the
fragrant gummy leaves of the lilac bushes open their soft brown folds.
We had a very pleasant ride through some pretty woodlands on the
opposite side of the river. At half-past five, went to the theatre. The
play was the Hunchback: the house was crowded. In the last scene, Master
Walter upbraided me thus:--
The engineer
Who lays the last stone of his sea-built tower,
And, smiling at it, bids the winds and waves
To roar and whistle now--but in a night
Beholds the tempest sporting in its place,
May look _agash_ as I did.