emigrants on board. They were going "they hardly knew whither," far
away from dear Ireland. It made one's heart ache to see them all
huddled together, without any expectation of ever revisiting their
native soil. We feared that the sorrow of leaving home for ever, the
miserable accommodations on board the ship which had brought them away,
and the tossing of the angry ocean in a long and dreary voyage would
have rendered them callous to good behaviour. But it was quite
otherwise. They conducted themselves with great propriety. Every
American on board seemed to feel for them. And then "they were so full
of wretchedness. Need and oppression starved in their eyes. Upon their
backs hung ragged misery. The world was not their friend." Poor dear
Ireland, exclaimed an aged female as I was talking to her, I shall
never see it any more! and then her tears began to flow. Probably the
scenery on the banks of the St. Lawrence recalled to her mind the
remembrance of spots once interesting to her:
The lovely daughter,--lovelier in her tears,
The fond companion of her father's years,
Here silent stood,--neglectful of her charms.
And left her lover's for her father's arms.
With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose;
And pressed her thoughtless babes, with many a tear,
And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear.
While the fond husband strove to lend relief.
In all the silent manliness of grief.
We went a few miles out of our route to take a look at the once
formidable fortress of Ticonderoga. It has long been in ruins, and
seems as if it were doomed to moulder quite away.
Ever and anon there falls
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls.
But time has seen, that lifts the low
And level lays the lofty brow,
Has seen this ruin'd pile complete,
Big with the vanity of state,
But transient is the smile of Fate.
The scenery of Lake George is superb, the inn remarkably spacious and
well attended, and the conveyances from thence to Saratoga very good.
He must be sorely afflicted with spleen and jaundice who, on his
arrival at Saratoga, remarks there is nothing here worth coming to see.
It is a gay and fashionable place; has four uncommonly fine hotels; its
waters for medicinal virtues are surpassed by none in the known world;
and it is resorted to throughout the whole of the summer by foreigners
and natives of the first consideration. Saratoga pleased me much; and
afforded a fair opportunity of forming a pretty correct idea of the
gentry of the United States.
There is a pleasing frankness and ease and becoming dignity in the
American ladies, and the good humour and absence of all haughtiness and
puppyism in the gentlemen must, no doubt, impress the traveller with
elevated notions of the company who visit this famous spa.
During my stay here all was joy and affability and mirth. In the
mornings the ladies played and sang for us; and the evenings were
generally enlivened with the merry dance. Here I bade farewell to the
charming family in whose company I had passed so many happy days, and
proceeded to Albany.
The stage stopped a little while in the town of Troy. The name alone
was quite sufficient to recall to the mind scenes long past and gone.
Poor King Priam! Napoleon's sorrows, sad and piercing as they were, did
not come up to those of this ill-fated monarch. The Greeks first set
his town on fire and then began to bully:
Incensâ Danai dominantur in urbe.
One of his sons was slain before his face: "ante ora parentum,
concidit." Another was crushed to mummy by boa-constrictors: "immensis
orbibus angues." His city was razed to the ground, "jacet Ilion
ingens." And Pyrrhus ran him through with his sword, "capulo tenus
abdidit ensem." This last may be considered as a fortunate stroke for
the poor old king. Had his life been spared at this juncture he could
not have lived long. He must have died broken-hearted. He would have
seen his son-in-law, once master of a noble stud, now, for want of a
horse, obliged to carry off his father up-hill on his own back, "cessi
et sublato, montem genitore petivi." He would have heard of his
grandson being thrown neck and heels from a high tower, "mittitur
Astyanax illis de turribus." He would have been informed of his wife
tearing out the eyes of King Odrysius with her finger-nails, "digitos
in perfida lumina condit." Soon after this, losing all appearance of
woman, she became a bitch,
Perdidit infelix, hominis post omnia formam,
and rent the heavens with her howlings,
Externasque novo latratu terruit auras.
Then, becoming distracted with the remembrance of her misfortunes,
"veterum memor illa malorum," she took off howling into the fields of
Thrace:
Tum quoque Sithonios, ululavit moesta per agros.
Juno, Jove's wife and sister, was heard to declare that poor Hecuba did
not deserve so terrible a fate:
Ipsa Jovis conjuxque sororque,
Eventus Hecubam meruisse negaverit illos.
Had poor Priam escaped from Troy, one thing, and only one thing, would
have given him a small ray of satisfaction, viz. he would have heard of
one of his daughters nobly preferring to leave this world rather than
live to become servant-maid to old Grecian ladies:
Non ego Myrmidonum sedes, Dolopumve superbas,
Adspiciam, aut Graiis servitum matribus ibo.
At some future period, should a foreign armed force, or intestine
broils (all which Heaven avert), raise Troy to the dignity of a
fortified city, Virgil's prophecy may then be fulfilled:
Atque iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Achilles.
After leaving Troy I passed through a fine country to Albany, and then
proceeded by steam down the Hudson to New York.
Travellers hesitate whether to give the preference to Philadelphia or
to New York. Philadelphia is certainly a noble city and its environs
beautiful, but there is a degree of quiet and sedateness in it which,
though no doubt very agreeable to the man of calm and domestic habits,
is not so attractive to one of speedy movements. The quantity of white
marble which is used in the buildings gives to Philadelphia a gay and
lively appearance, but the sameness of the streets and their crossing
each other at right angles are somewhat tiresome. The waterworks which
supply the city are a proud monument of the skill and enterprise of its
inhabitants, and the market is well worth the attention of the stranger.
When you go to Philadelphia be sure not to forget to visit the museum.
It will afford you a great treat. Some of Mr. Peale's family are
constantly in it, and are ever ready to show the curiosities to
strangers and to give them every necessary information. Mr. Peale has
now passed his eightieth year, and appears to possess the vivacity and,
I may almost add, the activity of youth.
To the indefatigable exertions of this gentleman is the Western world
indebted for the possession of this splendid museum. Mr. Peale is,
moreover, an excellent artist. Look attentively, I pray you, at the
portrait he has taken of himself, by desire of the State of
Pennsylvania. On entering the room he appears in the act of holding up
a curtain to show you his curiosities. The effect of the light upon his
head is infinitely striking. I have never seen anything finer in the
way of light and shade. The skeleton of the mammoth is a national
treasure. I could form but a faint idea of it by description until I
had seen it. It is the most magnificent skeleton in the world. The city
ought never to forget the great expense Mr. Peale was put to, and the
skill and energy he showed during the many months he spent in searching
the swamps where these enormous bones had been concealed from the eyes
of the world for centuries.
The extensive squares of this city are ornamented with well-grown and
luxuriant trees. Its unremitting attention to literature might cause it
to be styled the Athens of the United States. Here learning and science
have taken up their abode. The literary and philosophical associations,
the enthusiasm of individuals, the activity of the press and the
cheapness of the publications ought to raise the name of Philadelphia
to an elevated situation in the temple of knowledge.
From the press of this city came Wilson's famous _Ornithology_. By
observing the birds in their native haunts he has been enabled to purge
their history of numberless absurdities which inexperienced theorists
had introduced into it. It is a pleasing and a brilliant work. We have
no description of birds in any European publication that can come up to
this. By perusing Wilson's _Ornithology_ attentively before I left
England I knew where to look for the birds, and immediately recognised
them in their native land.
Since his time I fear that the white-headed eagles have been much
thinned. I was perpetually looking out for them, but saw very few. One
or two came now and then and soared in lofty flight over the Falls of
Niagara. The Americans are proud of this bird in effigy, and their
hearts rejoice when its banner is unfurled. Could they not then be
persuaded to protect the white-headed eagle, and allow it to glide in
safety over its own native forests? Were I an American I should think I
had committed a kind of sacrilege in killing the white-headed eagle.
The ibis was held sacred by the Egyptians; the Hollanders protect the
stork; the vulture sits unmolested on the top of the houses in the city
of Angustura; and Robin Redbreast, for his charity, is cherished by the
English:
No burial these pretty babes
Of any man receives,
Till Robin-red-breast painfully.
Did cover them with leaves. [Footnote]
[Footnote: The fault against grammar is lost in the beauty of the idea.]
Poor Wilson was smote by the hand of death before he had finished his
work. Prince Charles Buonaparte, nephew to the late Emperor Napoleon,
aided by some of the most scientific gentlemen of Pennsylvania, is
continuing this valuable and interesting publication.
New York, with great propriety, may be called the commercial capital of
the new world:
Urbs augusta potens, nulli cessura.
Ere long it will be on the coast of North America what Tyre once was on
that of Syria. In her port are the ships of all nations, and in her
streets is displayed merchandise from all parts of the known world. And
then the approach to it is so enchanting! The verdant fields, the woody
hills, the farms and country-houses form a beautiful landscape as you
sail up to the city of New York.
Broadway is the principal street. It is three miles and a half long. I
am at a loss to know where to look for a street in any part of the
world which has so many attractions as this. There are no steam-engines
to annoy you by filling the atmosphere full of soot and smoke; the
houses have a stately appearance; while the eye is relieved from the
perpetual sameness, which is common in most streets, by lofty and
luxuriant trees.
Nothing can surpass the appearance of the American ladies when they
take their morning walk from twelve to three in Broadway. The stranger
will at once see that they have rejected the extravagant superfluities
which appear in the London and Parisian fashions, and have only
retained as much of those costumes as is becoming to the female form.
This, joined to their own just notions of dress, is what renders the
New York ladies so elegant in their attire. The way they wear the
Leghorn hat deserves a remark or two. With us the formal hand of the
milliner binds down the brim to one fixed shape, and that none of the
handsomest. The wearer is obliged to turn her head full ninety degrees
before she can see the person who is standing by her side. But in New
York the ladies have the brim of the hat not fettered with wire or tape
or ribbon, but quite free and undulating; and by applying the hand to
it they can conceal or expose as much of the face as circumstances
require. This hiding and exposing of the face, by the by, is certainly
a dangerous movement, and often fatal to the passing swain. I am
convinced, in my own mind, that many a determined and unsuspecting
bachelor has been shot down by this sudden manoeuvre before he was
aware that he was within reach of the battery.
The American ladies seem to have an abhorrence (and a very just one,
too) of wearing caps. When one considers for a moment that women wear
the hair long, which Nature has given them both for an ornament and to
keep the head warm, one is apt to wonder by what perversion of good
taste they can be induced to enclose it in a cap. A mob-cap, a
lace-cap, a low cap, a high cap, a flat cap, a cap with ribbons
dangling loose, a cap with ribbons tied under the chin, a peak-cap, an
angular cap, a round cap and a pyramid cap! How would Canova's Venus
look in a mob-cap? If there be any ornament to the head in wearing a
cap, it must surely be a false ornament. The American ladies are
persuaded that the head can be ornamented without a cap. A rosebud or
two, a woodbine, or a sprig of eglantine look well in the braided hair;
and if there be raven locks, a lily or a snowdrop may be interwoven
with effect.
Now that the packets are so safe, and make such quick passages to the
United States, it would be as well if some of our head milliners would
go on board of them in lieu of getting into the diligence for Paris.
They would bring back more taste and less caricature. And if they could
persuade a dozen or two of the farmer's servant-girls to return with
them, we should soon have proof-positive that as good butter and cheese
may be made with the hair braided up, and a daisy or primrose in it, as
butter and cheese made in a cap of barbarous shape, washed, perhaps, in
soapsuds last new moon.
New York has very good hotels and genteel boarding-houses. All charges
included, you do not pay above two dollars a day. Little enough, when
you consider the capital accommodations and the abundance of food.
In this city, as well as in others which I visited, everybody seemed to
walk at his ease. I could see no inclination for jostling, no
impertinent staring at you, nor attempts to create a row in order to
pick your pocket. I would stand for an hour together in Broadway to
observe the passing multitude. There is certainly a gentleness in these
people both to be admired and imitated. I could see very few dogs,
still fewer cats, and but a very small proportion of fat women in the
streets of New York. The climate was the only thing that I had really
to find fault with; and as the autumn was now approaching I began to
think of preparing for warmer regions.
Strangers are apt to get violent colds on account of the sudden change
of the atmosphere. The noon would often be as warm as tropical weather
and the close of day cold and chilly. This must sometimes act with
severity upon the newly-arrived stranger, and it requires more care and
circumspection than I am master of to guard against it. I contracted a
bad and obstinate cough which did not quite leave me till I had got
under the regular heat of the sun near the equator.
I may be asked, was it all good-fellowship and civility during my stay
in the United States? Did no forward person cause offence? Was there no
exhibition of drunkenness or swearing or rudeness? or display of
conduct which disgraces civilised man in other countries? I answer,
very few indeed: scarce any worth remembering, and none worth noticing.
These are a gentle and a civil people. Should a traveller now and then
in the long run witness a few of the scenes alluded to, he ought not,
on his return home, to adduce a solitary instance or two as the custom
of the country. In roving through the wilds of Guiana I have sometimes
seen a tree hollow at heart, shattered and leafless, but I did not on
that account condemn its vigorous neighbours, and put down a memorandum
that the woods were bad; on the contrary, I made allowances: a
thunderstorm, the whirlwind, a blight from heaven might have robbed it
of its bloom and caused its present forbidding appearance. And in
leaving the forest I carried away the impression that, though some few
of the trees were defective, the rest were an ornament to the wilds,
full of uses and virtues, and capable of benefiting the world in a
superior degree.
A man generally travels into foreign countries for his own ends, and I
suspect there is scarcely an instance to be found of a person leaving
his own home solely with the intention of benefiting those amongst whom
he is about to travel. A commercial speculation, curiosity, a wish for
information, a desire to reap benefit from an acquaintance with our
distant fellow-creatures are the general inducements for a man to leave
his own fireside. This ought never to be forgotten, and then the
traveller will journey on under the persuasion that it rather becomes
him to court than expect to be courted, as his own interest is the
chief object of his travels. With this in view he will always render
himself pleasant to the natives; and they are sure to repay his little
acts of courtesy with ample interest, and with a fund of information
which will be of great service to him.
While in the United States I found our Western brother a very pleasant
fellow; but his portrait has been drawn in such different shades by
different travellers who have been through his territory, that it
requires a personal interview before a correct idea can be formed of
his true colours. He is very inquisitive; but it is quite wrong on that
account to tax him with being of an impertinent turn. He merely
interrogates you for information, and, when you have satisfied him on
that score, only ask him in your turn for an account of what is going
on in his own country and he will tell you everything about it with
great good humour and in excellent language. He has certainly hit upon
the way (but I could not make out by what means) of speaking a much
purer English language than that which is in general spoken on the
parent soil. This astonished me much; but it is really the case.
Amongst his many good qualities he has one unenviable and, I may add, a
bad propensity: he is immoderately fond of smoking. He may say that he
learned it from his nurse, with whom it was once much in vogue. In
Dutch William's time (he was a man of bad taste) the English gentleman
could not do without his pipe. During the short space of time that
Corporal Trim was at the inn inquiring after poor Lefevre's health, my
Uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of three pipes. "It was not till
my Uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe," etc. Now
these times have luckily gone by, and the custom of smoking amongst
genteel Englishmen has nearly died away with them. It is a foul custom;
it makes a foul mouth, and a foul place where the smoker stands.
However, every nation has its whims. John Bull relishes stinking
venison; a Frenchman depopulates whole swamps in quest of frogs; a
Dutchman's pipe is never out of his mouth; a Russian will eat
tallow-candles; and the American indulges in the cigar. "De gustibus
non est disputandum."
Our Western brother is in possession of a country replete with
everything that can contribute to the happiness and comfort of mankind.
His code of laws, purified by experience and common-sense, has fully
answered the expectations of the public. By acting up to the true
spirit of this code he has reaped immense advantages from it. His
advancement as a nation has been rapid beyond all calculation, and,
young as he is, it may be remarked without any impropriety that he is
now actually reading a salutary lesson to the rest of the civilised
world.
It is but some forty years ago that he had the dispute with his nurse
about a dish of tea. She wanted to force the boy to drink it according
to her own receipt. He said he did not like it, and that it absolutely
made him ill. After a good deal of sparring she took up the birch-rod
and began to whip him with an uncommon degree of asperity. When the
poor lad found that he must either drink the nauseous dish of tea or be
flogged to death, he turned upon her in self-defence, showed her to the
outside of the nursery-door, and never more allowed her to meddle with
his affairs.
Since the Independence the population has increased from three to ten
millions. A fine navy has been built, and everything attended to that
could ensure prosperity at home and respect abroad.
The former wilds of North America bear ample testimony to the
achievements of this enterprising people. Forests have been cleared
away, swamps drained, canals dug and flourishing settlements
established. From the shores of the Atlantic an immense column of
knowledge has rolled into the interior. The Mississippi, the Ohio, the
Missouri and their tributary streams have been wonderfully benefited by
it. It now seems as if it were advancing towards the stony mountains,
and probably will not become stationary till it reaches the Pacific
Ocean. This almost immeasurable territory affords a shelter and a home
to mankind in general: Jew or Gentile, king's-man or republican, he
meets with a friendly reception in the United States. His opinions, his
persecutions, his errors or mistakes, however they may have injured him
in other countries, are dead and of no avail on his arrival here.
Provided he keeps the peace he is sure to be at rest.
Politicians of other countries imagine that intestine feuds will cause
a division in this commonwealth; at present there certainly appears to
be no reason for such a conjecture. Heaven forbid that it should
happen. The world at large would suffer by it. For ages yet to come may
this great commonwealth continue to be the United States of North
America.
The sun was now within a week or two of passing into the southern
hemisphere, and the mornings and evenings were too cold to be
comfortable. I embarked for the Island of Antigua with the intention of
calling at the different islands in the Caribbean Sea on my way once
more towards the wilds of Guiana.
We were thirty days in making Antigua, and thanked Providence for
ordering us so long a passage. A tremendous gale of wind, approaching
to a hurricane, had done much damage in the West Indies. Had our
passage been of ordinary length we should inevitably have been caught
in the gale.
St. John's is the capital of Antigua. In better times it may have had
its gaieties and amusements. At present it appears sad and woebegone.
The houses, which are chiefly of wood, seem as if they have not had a
coat of paint for many years; the streets are uneven and ill-paved; and
as the stranger wanders through them, he might fancy that they would
afford a congenial promenade to the man who is about to take his last
leave of surrounding worldly misery before he hangs himself. There had
been no rain for some time, so that the parched and barren pastures
near the town might, with great truth, be called Rosinante's own. The
mules feeding on them put you in mind of Ovid's description of famine:
Dura cutis, per quam spectari viscera possent.
It is somewhat singular that there is not a single river or brook in
the whole Island of Antigua. In this it differs from Tartary in the
other world, which, according to old writers, has five rivers--viz.
Acheron, Phlegeton, Cocytus, Styx and Lethe.
In this island I found the redstart, described in Wilson's _Ornithology
of the United States_. I wished to learn whether any of these birds
remain the whole year in Antigua and breed there, or whether they all
leave it for the north when the sun comes out of the southern
hemisphere; but upon inquiry I could get no information whatever.
After passing a dull week here I sailed for Guadaloupe, whose bold and
cloud-capped mountains have a grand appearance as you approach the
island. Basseterre, the capital, is a neat town, with a handsome public
walk in the middle of it, well shaded by a row of fine tamarind trees
on each side. Behind the town La Souffrière raises its high romantic
summit, and on a clear day you may see the volcanic smoke which issues
from it.
Nearly midway betwixt Guadaloupe and Dominica you escry the Saintes.
Though high and bold and rocky, they have still a diminutive appearance
when compared with their two gigantic neighbours. You just see
Marigalante to windward of them, some leagues off, about a yard high in
the horizon.
Dominica is majestic in high and rugged mountains. As you sail along it
you cannot help admiring its beautiful coffee-plantations, in places so
abrupt and steep that you would pronounce them almost inaccessible.
Roseau, the capital, is but a small town, and has nothing attractive
except the well-known hospitality of the present harbour-master, who is
particularly attentive to strangers and furnishes them with a world of
information concerning the West Indies. Roseau has seen better days,
and you can trace good taste and judgment in the way in which the town
has originally been laid out.