VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON--NEW ENGLAND SABBATH DAY RACE.
Throughout the preceding chapters, I have considered our voyage across
the Atlantic, only in the light of a successful speculation; and so
indeed it was in all points but one; but that _one_ was unfortunately of
the utmost importance--I mean HEALTH. My family had enjoyed this
blessing almost without alloy, in all our previous travels, and this
circumstance, perhaps, rendered us a little impatient under the
infliction of the first reverse.
After we had remained in the city a few months, my husband was attacked
with a disorder that frequently rages here, called the chills and fever;
one distressing peculiarity of which is, that it leaves the patient for
a long time in a weak and languid condition. This was to us a
circumstance of a serious nature, for as all our earthly dependence was
founded upon his exertions, as a private teacher; if he were
incapacitated by sickness from pursuing the duties of his profession--it
required no augur to foretel the consequences. But as in other affairs,
America had not only answered, but had greatly exceeded our
expectations, we felt every disposition to give the climate a fair trial
before we totally abandoned it.
As soon as my husband was sufficiently convalescent, we amused ourselves
with visiting Staten Island, Long Island, the coast of New Jersey, and
other places within a convenient distance of the city, for the advantage
of change of scene and air; and also to select a country residence, with
the view of ascertaining the effect of the climate, under what we
conceived to be, the most advantageous circumstances. The chief of these
excursions of pleasure was our trip to Albany, the State Capital of New
York, situated about a hundred and fifty miles up the Hudson, or the
North River, as it is here generally denominated.
Since I had been in America, I had heard, with perfect indifference, the
scenery of the Hudson whispered in accents of faint praise; and as I
expected to see nothing more than a fine river winding its course
through a forest, I was totally unprepared for the pleasure that awaited
me. It is not without some faint misgivings, arising from a latent sense
of insufficiency for such a task, that I hazard an attempt to describe
this charming scenery.
Embarked on board a superb steam ship, we went at a rapid rate, and
quickly left the city in the distance. A long series of perpendicular
rocks, of various altitudes, crowned with trees and bushes, and fluted
as if by art, forms the western barrier of this noble river; on the
other side, the mansions of the opulent, with their pleasure grounds,
reflect a beauteous contrast. We now leave the dwellings of man, and the
wildness of nature seems to maintain uninterrupted sway; when suddenly
the river widens into what appears to be an expansive lake, whose glassy
bosom reflects the surrounding woods and rocks, and the tree-bearing
islets which it encircles. Again the stream is contracted by two
gigantic rocks, which lift their ‘awful form’ from each side of its
margin. We dart through this channel, and another expansive prospect
opens to our view enriched with all the charms of the former, in
addition to the blue mountains of Catskill in perspective. Here, it
seems as if nature had studied to dispose woods, rocks, mountains, and
lakes, in positions the most graceful and majestic; so sublime and
lovely are the objects that meet the eye in every direction.
Besides nature’s attractions, other interesting circumstances are
associated with the surrounding scenery. About forty miles above the
city, is the memorable district called the _neutral ground_, on the
borders of which the struggle was the fiercest during the revolutionary
war. This is the province that Cooper has chosen for the scenes of his
‘Spy.’ Here also is the melancholy spot where the unfortunate Major
Andre was captured, and the place of his execution may be seen from the
river. ‘Sleepy Hollow’ was also pointed out to us, and farther on is the
village of Rip Van Winkle of somniferous notoriety. Among these the rock
of Sing Sing, crowned with the dismal ornament of the largest prison in
world, forces itself upon our notice, and induces a feeling dashed with
rather too much sadness, to be strictly pleasing.
Before this sail up the Hudson, I conceived nothing could exceed the
beauties of the Isle of Wight, and some choice scenes on the lakes of
Scotland; but all these must certainly yield the palm to the scenery of
the Hudson. To be fully appreciated it must be seen. The surrounding
objects, indeed, may be named upon paper, but who can faithfully
describe the atmosphere!
The established regulations on board the steam ships, oblige the
gentlemen to occupy the fore cabin, and leave the ladies in
uninterrupted possession of the after one. We had therefore, no
gentlemen in our company, except when on deck. Although this division of
the sexes may be viewed with reluctance at first, by those who have
husbands and brothers on board; yet ladies are generally reconciled to
the arrangement, because they are secure from the multitudinous
annoyances, produced by the free consumption of spirits and tobacco.
However, the ladies and gentlemen dine together, and on the present
occasion, the company amounted to above two hundred. The same scenes
variously affect different persons, and this was the first time in my
life that I had dined with so large and so heterogeneous an assemblage.
I felt much annoyed by hearing the rough phrases bandied about among the
_gentlemen_, while taking possession of their places. Soon, however, the
dinner appeared, and the company commenced operation in earnest.
Although but few words were spoken, it was by no means a silent repast;
dispatch was the order of the day--I had never before seen any thing
like it--and from the effect of the queer objects that presented
themselves to my notice, I confess I felt a much stronger inclination
for laughing than feasting. But violent exertions are usually of short
duration; and in pure astonishment, I stared when the first signs
proclaimed the battle to be over. The gentlemen withdrew to their part
of the vessel, and the ladies to the deck, and to the best of my
judgement, the whole affair was concluded in less than ten minutes!
My husband and myself embraced the first opportunity of comparing notes.
The scenery and the dinner was all during the voyage, that we witnessed
in common; the former we enjoyed, the latter we did not. As all the
females were consigned to one particular quarter of the vessel, I had an
opportunity of spending about twelve hours in company with a fair
sample of the American ladies. The chilling impression left on my mind
by the image of the captain’s wife, mentioned in the first chapter, had
long since passed away; and although a full acquaintance with the
character of that worthy lady had been of singular service to me, I was
alike averse by nature and judgement, to condemn a whole nation for the
reprobated failings of a single individual. The city lady might here be
distinguished from the rest, as she paced the deck, by her close
adherence to the latest Parisian fashions; and the plain Dutch dame by
her plain Dutch dress. Otherwise, there is a greater uniformity of
external appearance, than would be seen with us, under similar
circumstances. One thing in particular, I must not omit, though I never
heard it before observed by any individual--I mean the striking
uniformity of look--the statue-like appearance of the countenance, that
prevails so universally among the women. They seem to be totally
incapable of expressing mental emotions by any visible change of
countenance, even when conversing upon excitable subjects. The cause of
this I must leave to others to determine.
My husband thus describes the proceedings in his part of the vessel:
“The fore cabin was furnished with a bar, where ardent spirits and
tobacco were supplied to those of the passengers that were destitute of
such blessings; and the regularity with which the glass circulated,
might very well illustrate perpetual motion. The gentlemen were
associated together in small groups, and were conversing on various
subjects, but chiefly on that theme of which the Americans never seem to
tire--the revolutionary war; the presence of an Englishman is almost
certain to produce a note from this string. A number were amusing
themselves by rallying a squire, as a justice of the twenty-five dollar
court is here termed, and a little dark man, who figured as the deacon
of a church. It appeared that the deacon was a farmer, and his neighbour
the squire, kept a store for the sale of almost every thing, and for the
convenience of barter, or ‘trading,’ as they call it. One cold morning
during the last winter, the deacon took six bushels of wheat to the
store of the squire, to be exchanged for as much salt as could be
mutually agreed upon. After some time and many words were spent in
manœuvering, they consented to barter measure for measure. The deacon
proceeded to mete out his grain, while the squire complaining of the
coldness of the morning amused himself by stamping upon his elastic
floor. The deacon, of course, could not object to his neighbour warming
his toes in what manner he pleased, in his own store, he therefore said
nothing, although he discovered that this stamping had consolidated his
six bushels of wheat into the compass of five and a half. The squire
then commenced his part of the contract--to measure out the salt; and a
chillness conveniently seized the toes of the deacon, which he
endeavoured to counteract by stamping, after the example of the squire.
‘Stop, stop,’ said the squire, ‘what are you stamping for?’ ‘To warm my
toes,’ was the answer. ‘But do you not see how you shake down the salt?’
‘Not more than you shook down the wheat,’ was the reply. And so, as they
acknowledged, ‘they got a fair trade between them.’”
There was a youth on board whom I regarded with curiosity; he bore so
striking a resemblance to Brom Bones, the hero of Sleepy Hollow, that
nothing was wanting but the fox’s tail in his hat to complete the
similitude. I felt an unconquerable inclination to learn something of
this ‘roystering blade,’ and for this purpose, I stepped up to a young
man, with whom he had just been conversing, and was very soon fully
gratified. From this informant I learned a few circumstances concerning
the hero in question;--that, like his model, he was fond of a spirited
horse; and that he had lately figured conspicuously in a race--not with
a goblin for a gallon of cider, but with a more substantial personage in
the form of a deacon. I quite forget his name, for the image of Brom
Bones was so correctly delineated in my mind, that it entirely
obliterated his proper name from my memory.
It is necessary here to explain that in some townships in New England, a
law is very properly enacted, against all Sunday travelling, except for
the purpose of going to, and returning from a place of worship; any
violation of which is visited with a fine of ten dollars.
A few Sundays ago, this Brom Bones accompanied with his negro in a very
light wagon[C] drawn by an excellent horse, was out on a spree; and his
road lying close by a church, he determined to push forwards in defiance
of the law, and hazard the consequences; concluding that as the service
had commenced, he should meet with no interruption. As he dashed past
the church, he saw the horses belonging to the members of the
congregation, tied up under a row of high trees, as is usual on such
occasions in the summer; but to his dismay, he also saw the deacon,
bustling through the church-yard to mount his poney, as he _guessed_, to
give him chase.
Now, as one half of the fine goes to the informer, and as it is
represented with too much truth, alas, that these same deacons are
‘given to filthy lucre,’ look to thyself Brom Bones. Away went Bones,
and away went the deacon; the one impelled by the fear of losing ten
dollars, and the other stimulated with the hope of gaining five. Nor was
the chase without spectators; for a portion of the juveniles _guessing_
at what was up, from the sound of the wheels, and the sudden absence of
the deacon, slipped out to view the sport, from the hill on which the
church stood.
Bones’s confidence in his horse began to fail, as he perceived the
deacon gaining ground, and, like the beaver in the fable, he judged it
the best policy to relinquish a part, in order to save the whole. He
hastily gave a silver dollar to his negro, directing him to display it
fully in the eyes of the deacon, and then deliberately to let it fall on
the road. The negro obeyed; and the stratagem for that time had the
desired effect. The deacon dismounted--for what deacon that keeps a
store, would be so improvident as to ride over a dollar? While his
pursuer was securing the coin, Bones exerted all his energies to escape
from his clutches. But the deacon was quickly mounted, and again in the
field.
The negro hinted to his master that the deacon’s poney was ‘blowed,’ and
that another dollar would save the ten. Bones thought the experiment
worth trying, and furnished the black with the cash. Carefully did
blackey turn it in the sun, to ensure its being seen distinctly; for he
knew the race depended upon this point, as the deacon was just upon his
haunches. He dropped it, and the deacon alighted, gathered it up, and
speedily re-mounted. Five miles had now been ridden over with the utmost
speed, and both horses showed symptoms of distress--now hope prevailed,
and now fear, in the breasts of the contending parties. At length a
‘pretty considerable’ slough at a turn in the road suddenly appeared to
the horror of poor Bones, and closed the chase in favour of the deacon.
Bones’s horse and wagon were seized as security for the fine; and his
spiritual pursuer kept the two dollars as a remuneration for his
exertions.
I cannot say I admire these incidents; I must therefore plead their
decided marks of national character as an apology for their insertion.
The latter in particular, will illustrate the indecorous manner in which
sacred and pecuniary matters are here associated, more effectually than
if volumes of sentiment were written on the subject.
Albany is the second city in the state of New York, it contains, I
suppose, about 2500 inhabitants, a very large portion of which are
Dutch; here are to be seen the oldest buildings in the United States.
In order to see as much of the country as possible, we landed on our
return from Albany, at a small town a little below west point, and about
fifty miles above New York; having decided upon proceeding through the
country towns by whatever conveyance we could obtain. This may appear a
wild-goose scheme, but I think of it with much pleasure, as, in addition
to the beauties of the scenery, which were passing lovely, we had an
opportunity of seeing the villages and their inhabitants in their
unadorned simplicity. We were fully gratified, for the enjoyment more
than compensated for the inconvenience.
The place and neighbourhood where we landed, on the west bank of the
Hudson, consists of several thousand acres almost exclusively occupied
by families of Dutch extraction. They speak both Dutch and English
fluently, are a simple hearted class of beings, read their bibles, and
most cordially hate the Yankees.
I ought to have before explained this term, “Yankee”. It is applied by
all the Americans to the inhabitants of the five New England States,
viz. Vermont, Massachusets, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, and
Connecticut. These same Yankees are reported by their southern
neighbours as being remarkable for inquisitiveness and roguishness; and
many of them acknowledge this equivocal species of compliment, and admit
its justice with complacency.--While here, we were told a farm had
recently been purchased in the neighbourhood by a Yankee, and that the
Dutchmen had submitted to some pecuniary sacrifice, in order to
re-purchase it. I asked the reason, and received this answer, “We were
frightened at him.”
Families descended from the earliest settlers inhabit the banks of the
Hudson. Their furniture, manners, and affairs, conduct the mind back to
the days of the pilgrim fathers. But nothing is declining here; new
houses are building, the forest is daily yielding to the axe, and all
things are in a state of active improvement. It is not in America, that
Sultan Mahmoud’s owls can endow their sons and daughters with ruined
villages.
The farmer here spins his own wool and flax, and generally weaves his
own cloth; he mends his own farming implements, consumes the produce of
his own land, and barters the remainder for other necessaries. As he
has neither rent, tithes, nor taxes to pay, it is no wonder that his
industry enables him to live in a state of absolute profusion.
Avowedly, I have never read any work completely through that has
appeared on the United States of America, but have formed my judgement
of the character of some from common report, and the few extracts that
have fortuitously fallen in my way. It appears to me, that the
observations of the Americans, respecting many of these publications are
nearly correct, viz. That they are penned to please some particular
party, and not to promulgate a true representation of facts.
I will just state one instance, which I copy from a work that I never
saw, till my attention was called to it this very hour. The authoress is
giving an account of the American farmers, whom she honours with the
designation of “Small landed proprietors, who farm their own freehold
estates.”
“When in Maryland, I went into the houses of several of these small
proprietors, and remained long enough, and _looked_ and _listened_
sufficiently, to obtain a tolerably correct idea of their manner of
living. One of these families consisted of a young man, his wife,
two children, a female slave, and two young lads, slaves also. The
farm belonged to the wife, and I was told, consisted of about
_three hundred acres_ of _indifferent_ land, but all _cleared_. The
house was built of wood, and looked as if the three slaves might
have overturned it, had they pushed hard against the gable end. It
contained one room of about twelve feet square; and another,
adjoining it, hardly larger than a _closet_: this second chamber
was the _lodging-room_ of the white part of the family. Above these
rooms was a loft _without windows_, where, I was told, the “staying
company” who visited them, were lodged. Near this mansion was a
“shanty,” _a black hole_, WITHOUT ANY WINDOW, which served as a
KITCHEN _and all other offices, and also as the lodging of the
blacks!!!_
We were invited to take tea with this family, and readily consented
to do so.(!) Her female slave set out the great table, and placed
upon it cups of the very coarsest blue ware, a little brown sugar
in one, and a tiny drop of milk in another; no butter, though the
lady assured us she had a “deary” and two cows. Instead of butter,
she “hoped we would fix a little relish with our crackers,” in
ancient English, eat salt meat and dry biscuits. Such was the
fare!”
This lady must have been dreaming of a witches den. Only think of two
black boys and one man, and he the owner, to do the work on a farm
comprising three hundred acres of cleared land! And what premises!
Where could the men live, while engaged in the long and arduous
employment of clearing the land? There are no workhouses here, whence
gangs of paupers may be hired at pleasure. Reflecting on what I have
seen, I much question whether such a place as this could be found, as an
abode for human beings, in any part of the Union. Consider the
fare--salt fish and biscuits--and for English visiters too! Why, the
very mice would desert such a dwelling! The whole affair assumes such an
air of improbability, that if it contain even one single atom of truth,
that atom is buried in falsehood.
But the worst feature is, that this is advanced as a sample of
farm-house fare and farm-house hospitality in the United States. Verily,
I have lived in an American farm-house, I have dined and taken tea in
several, perhaps scores, in various directions from, and within a
hundred miles of New York; yet, I never saw any thing like this! The
farmers are much more censurable for their extravagant profusion than
for their meanness. And when they entertain European visiters, they are
so fond of displaying their abundance, that it is a very rare thing for
them to allow such guests to depart destitute of substantial tokens of
their liberality. In fact, many among them take care that their male
guests shall not leave their dwellings either sorrowful or sober.
Most freely do I admit, that persons of pure intentions may be mistaken
in trivial matters, and thus innocently mislead others; but truth is
quite as easily written as spoken, and should be particularly regarded
in a narrative on the domestic manners of a foreign nation. Here, all
fictitious descriptions, isolated cases, and every thing calculated to
mislead, should be entirely discarded.