Theatre—Fine Arts—Delicacy—Shaking Quakers—Big-Bone Lick—Visit of the
President
The theatre at Cincinnati is small, and not very brilliant in
decoration, but in the absence of every other amusement our young men
frequently attended it, and in the bright clear nights of autumn and
winter, the mile and a half of distance was not enough to prevent the
less enterprising members of the family from sometimes accompanying
them. The great inducement to this was the excellent acting of Mr. and
Mrs. Alexander Drake, the managers.[4] Nothing could be more distinct
than their line of acting, but the great versatility of their powers
enabled them often to appear together. Her cast was the highest walk of
tragedy, and his the broadest comedy; but yet, as Goldsmith says of his
sister heroines, I have known them change characters for a whole
evening together, and have wept with him and laughed with her, as it
was their will and pleasure to ordain. I think in his comedy he was
superior to any actor I ever saw in the same parts, except Emery.
Alexander Drake’s comedy was like that of the French, who never appear
to be acting at all; he was himself the comic being the author aimed at
depicting. Let him speak whose words he would, from Shakspeare to
Colman, it was impossible not to feel that half the fun was his own; he
had, too, in a very high degree, the power that Fawcett possessed, of
drawing tears by a sudden touch of natural feeling. His comic songs
might have set the gravity of the judges and bishops together at
defiance. Liston is great, but Alexander Drake was greater.
[4] Mr. Drake was an Englishman.
Mrs. Drake, formerly Miss Denny, greatly resembles Miss O’Neil; a proof
of this is, that Mr. Kean, who had heard of the resemblance, arrived at
New York late in the evening, and having repaired to the theatre, saw
her for the first time across the stage, and immediately exclaimed,
“that’s Miss Denny.” Her voice, too, has the same rich and touching
tones, and is superior in power. Her talent is decidedly first-rate.
Deep and genuine feeling, correct judgment, and the most perfect good
taste, distinguish her play in every character. Her last act of
Belvidera is superior in tragic effect to any thing I ever saw on the
stage, the one great exception to all comparison, Mrs. Siddons, being
set aside.
It was painful to see these excellent performers playing to a miserable
house, not a third full, and the audience probably not including half a
dozen persons who would prefer their playing to that of the vilest
strollers. In proof of this, I saw them, as managers, give place to
paltry third-rate actors from London, who would immediately draw
crowded houses, and be overwhelmed with applause.
Poor Drake died just before we left Ohio, and his wife, who, besides
her merit as an actress, is a most estimable and amiable woman, is left
with a large family. I have little, or rather no doubt, of her being
able to obtain an excellent engagement in London, but her having
property in several of the Western theatres will, I fear, detain her in
a neighbourhood, where she is neither understood nor appreciated. She
told me many very excellent professional anecdotes collected during her
residence in the West; one of these particularly amused me as a
specimen of Western idiom. A lady who professed a great admiration for
Mrs. Drake had obtained her permission to be present upon one occasion
at her theatrical toilet. She was dressing for some character in which
she was to stab herself, and her dagger was lying on the table. The
visitor took it up, and examining it with much emotion, exclaimed,
“what! do you really jab this into yourself sevagarous?”
We also saw the great American star, Mr. Forrest. What he may become I
will not pretend to prophesy; but when I saw him play Hamlet at
Cincinnati, not even Mrs. Drake’s sweet Ophelia could keep me beyond
the third act. It is true that I have seen Kemble, Macready, Kean,
Young, C. Kemble, Cook, and Talma play Hamlet, and I might not,
perhaps, be a very fair judge of this young actor’s merits; but I was
greatly amused when a gentleman, who asked my opinion of him, told me
upon hearing it, that he would not advise me to state it freely in
America, “for they would not bear it.” The theatre was really not a bad
one, though the very poor receipts rendered it impossible to keep it in
high order; but an annoyance infinitely greater than decorations
indifferently clean, was the style and manner of the audience. Men came
into the lower tier of boxes without their coats; and I have seen shirt
sleeves tucked up to the shoulder; the spitting was incessant, and the
mixed smell of onions and whiskey was enough to make one feel even the
Drakes’ acting dearly bought by the obligation of enduring its
accompaniments. The bearing and attitudes of the men are perfectly
indescribable; the heels thrown higher than the head, the entire rear
of the person presented to the audience, the whole length supported on
the benches, are among the varieties that these exquisite
posture-masters exhibit. The noises, too, were perpetual, and of the
most unpleasant kind; the applause is expressed by cries and thumping
with the feet, instead of clapping; and when a patriotic fit seized
them, and “Yankee Doodle” was called for, every man seemed to think his
reputation as a citizen depended on the noise he made.
Two very indifferent figurantes, probably from the Ambigu Comique, or
la Gaiete, made their appearance at Cincinnati while we were there; and
had Mercury stepped down, and danced a _pas seul_ upon earth, his
godship could not have produced a more violent sensation. But wonder
and admiration were by no means the only feelings excited; horror and
dismay were produced in at least an equal degree. No one, I believe,
doubted their being admirable dancers, but every one agreed that the
morals of the Western world would never recover the shock. When I was
asked if I had ever seen any thing so dreadful before, I was
embarrassed how to answer; for the young women had been exceedingly
careful, both in their dress and in their dancing, to meet the taste of
the people; but had it been Virginie in her most transparent attire, or
Taglioni in her most remarkable pirouette, they could not have been
more reprobated. The ladies altogether forsook the theatre; the
gentlemen muttered under their breath, and turned their heads aside
when the subject was mentioned; the clergy denounced them from the
pulpit; and if they were named at the meetings of the saints, it was to
show how deep the horror such a theme could produce. I could not but
ask myself if virtue were a plant, thriving under one form in one
country, and flourishing under a different one in another? If these
Western Americans are right, then how dreadfully wrong are we! It is
really a very puzzling subject.
But this was not the only point on which I found my notions of right
and wrong utterly confounded; hardly a day passed in which I did not
discover that something or other that I had been taught to consider
lawful as eating, was held in abhorrence by those around me; many words
to which I had never heard an objectionable meaning attached, were
totally interdicted, and the strangest paraphrastic sentences
substituted. I confess it struck me, that notwithstanding a general
stiffness of manner, which I think must exceed that of the Scribes and
Pharisees, the Americans have imaginations that kindle with alarming
facility. I could give many anecdotes to prove this, but will content
myself with a few.
A young German gentleman of perfectly good manners, once came to me
greatly chagrined at having offended one of the principal families in
the neighbourhood, by having pronounced the word _corset_ before the
ladies of it. An old female friend had kindly overcome her own feelings
so far as to mention to him the cause of the coolness he had remarked,
and strongly advised his making an apology. He told me that he was
perfectly well disposed to do so, but felt himself greatly at a loss
how to word it.
An English lady who had long kept a fashionable boarding-school in one
of the Atlantic cities, told me that one of her earliest cares with
every new comer, was the endeavour to substitute real delicacy for this
affected precision of manner; among many anecdotes, she told me one of
a young lady about fourteen, who on entering the receiving room, where
she only expected to see a lady who had enquired for her, and finding a
young man with her, put her hands before her eyes, and ran out of the
room again, screaming “A man! a man! a man!”
On another occasion, one of the young ladies in going up stairs to the
drawing-room, unfortunately met a boy of fourteen coming down, and her
feelings were so violently agitated, that she stopped panting and
sobbing, nor would pass on till the boy had swung himself up on the
upper banisters, to leave the passage free.
At Cincinnati there is a garden where the people go to eat ices, and to
look at roses. For the preservation of the flowers, there is placed at
the end of one of the walks a sign-post sort of daub, representing a
Swiss peasant girl, holding in her hand a scroll, requesting that the
roses might not be gathered. Unhappily for the artist, or for the
proprietor, or for both, the petticoat of this figure was so short as
to shew her ancles. The ladies saw, and shuddered; and it was formally
intimated to the proprietor, that if he wished for the patronage of the
ladies of Cincinnati, he must have the petticoat of this figure
lengthened. The affrighted purveyor of ices sent off an express for the
artist and his paint pot. He came, but unluckily not provided with any
colour that would match the petticoat; the necessity, however, was too
urgent for delay, and a flounce of blue was added to the petticoat of
red, giving bright and shining evidence before all men of the
immaculate delicacy of the Cincinnati ladies.
I confess I was sometimes tempted to suspect that this ultra refinement
was not very deep seated. It often appeared to me like the
consciousness of grossness, that wanted a veil; but the veil was never
gracefully adjusted. Occasionally, indeed, the very same persons who
appeared ready to faint at the idea of a statue, would utter some
unaccountable sally that was quite startling, and which made me feel
that the indelicacy of which we were accused had its limits. The
following anecdote is hardly fit to tell, but it explains what I mean
too well to be omitted.
A young married lady, of _high standing_ and most fastidious delicacy,
who had been brought up at one of the Atlantic seminaries of highest
reputation, told me that her house, at the distance of half a mile from
a populous city, was unfortunately opposite a mansion of worse than
doubtful reputation. “It is abominable,” she said, “to see the people
that go there; they ought to be exposed. I and another lady, an
intimate friend of mine, did make one of them look foolish enough last
summer: she was passing the day with me, and, while we were sitting at
the window, we saw a young man we both knew ride up there, we went into
the garden and watched at the gate for him to come back, and when he
did, we both stepped out, and I said to him, “are you not ashamed, Mr.
William D., to ride by my house and back again in that manner?” I never
saw a man look so foolish!”
In conversing with ladies on the customs and manners of Europe, I
remarked a strong propensity to consider every thing as wrong to which
they were not accustomed. I once mentioned to a young lady that I
thought a picnic party would be very agreeable, and that I would
propose it to some of our friends. She agreed that it would be
delightful, but she added, “I fear you will not succeed; we are not
used to such sort of things here, and I know it is considered very
indelicate for ladies and gentlemen to sit down together on the grass.”
I could multiply anecdotes of this nature; but I think these sufficient
to give an accurate idea of the tone of manners in this particular, and
I trust to justify the observations I have made.
One of the spectacles which produced the greatest astonishment on us
all was the Republican simplicity of the courts of justice. We had
heard that the judges indulged themselves on the bench in those
extraordinary attitudes which, doubtless, some peculiarity of the
American formation leads them to find the most comfortable. Of this we
were determined to judge for ourselves, and accordingly entered the
court when it was in full business, with three judges on the bench. The
annexed sketch will better describe what we saw than any thing I can
write.
Our winter passed rapidly away, and pleasantly enough, by the help of
frosty walks, a little skaiting, a visit to Big-Bone Lick, and a visit
to the shaking Quakers, a good deal of chess, and a good deal of
reading, notwithstanding we were almost in the back woods of Western
America.
The excursion to Big-Bone Lick, in Kentucky, and that to the Quaker
village, were too fatiguing for females at such a season, but our
gentlemen brought us home mammoth bones and shaking Quaker stories in
abundance.
These singular people, the shaking Quakers of America, give undeniable
proof that communities may exist and prosper, for they have continued
for many years to adhere strictly to this manner of life, and have been
constantly increasing in wealth. They have formed two or three
different societies in distant parts of the Union, all governed by the
same general laws, and all uniformly prosperous and flourishing.
There must be some sound and wholesome principle at work in these
establishments to cause their success in every undertaking, and this
principle must be a powerful one, for it has to combat much that is
absurd and much that is mischievous.
The societies are generally composed of about an equal proportion of
males and females, many of them being men and their wives; but they are
all bound by their laws not to cohabit together. Their religious
observances are wholly confined to singing and dancing of the most
grotesque kind, and this repeated so constantly as to occupy much time;
yet these people become rich and powerful wherever they settle
themselves. Whatever they manufacture, whatever their farms produce, is
always in the highest repute, and brings the highest price in the
market. They receive all strangers with great courtesy, and if they
bring an introduction they are lodged and fed for any length of time
they choose to stay; they are not asked to join in their labours, but
are permitted to do so if they wish it.
The Big-Bone Lick was not visited, and even partially examined, without
considerable fatigue.
It appeared from the account of our travellers, that the spot which
gives the region its elegant name is a deep bed of blue clay, tenacious
and unsound, so much so as to render it both difficult and dangerous to
traverse. The digging it has been found so laborious that no one has
yet hazarded the expense of a complete search into its depths for the
gigantic relics so certainly hidden there. The clay has never been
moved without finding some of them; and I think it can hardly be
doubted that money and perseverance would procure a more perfect
specimen of an entire mammoth than we have yet seen.[5]
[5] Since the above was written an immense skeleton, nearly perfect,
has been extracted.
And now the time arrived that our domestic circle was again to be
broken up. Our eldest son was to be entered at Oxford, and it was
necessary that his father should accompany him; and, after considerable
indecision, it was at length determined that I and my daughters should
remain another year, with our second son. It was early in February, and
our travellers prepared themselves to encounter some sharp gales upon
the mountains, though the great severity of the cold appeared to be
past. We got buffalo robes and double shoes prepared for them, and they
were on the eve of departure when we heard that General Jackson, the
newly-elected President, was expected to arrive immediately at
Cincinnati, from his residence in the West, and to proceed by steamboat
to Pittsburgh, on his way to Washington. This determined them not to
fix the day of their departure till they heard of his arrival, and
then, if possible, to start in the same boat with him; the decent
dignity of a private conveyance not being deemed necessary for the
President of the United States.
The day of his arrival was however quite uncertain, and we could only
determine to have every thing very perfectly in readiness, let it come
when it would. This resolution was hardly acted upon when the news
reached us that the General had arrived at Louisville, and was expected
at Cincinnati in a few hours. All was bustle and hurry at
Mohawk-cottage; we quickly dispatched our packing business, and this
being the first opportunity we had had of witnessing such a
demonstration of popular feeling, we all determined to be present at
the debarkation of the great man. We accordingly walked to Cincinnati,
and secured a favourable station at the landing-place, both for the
purpose of seeing the first magistrate and of observing his reception
by the people. We had waited but a few moments when the heavy panting
of the steam engines and then a discharge of cannon told that we were
just in time; another moment brought his vessel in sight.
Nothing could be better of its kind than his approach to the shore: the
noble steam-boat which conveyed him was flanked on each side by one of
nearly equal size and splendour; the roofs of all three were covered by
a crowd of men; cannon saluted them from the shore as they passed by,
to the distance of a quarter of a mile above the town; there they
turned about, and came down the river with a rapid but stately motion,
the three vessels so close together as to appear one mighty mass upon
the water.
When they arrived opposite the principal landing they swept gracefully
round, and the side vessels, separating themselves from the centre,
fell a few feet back, permitting her to approach before them with her
honoured freight. All this manoeuvring was extremely well executed, and
really beautiful.
The crowd on the shore awaited her arrival in perfect stillness. When
she touched the bank the people on board gave a faint huzza, but it was
answered by no note of welcome from the land: this cold silence was
certainly not produced by any want of friendly feeling towards the new
President; during the whole of the canvassing he had been decidedly the
popular candidate at Cincinnati, and, for months past, we had been
accustomed to the cry of “Jackson for ever” from an overwhelming
majority; but enthusiasm is not either the virtue or the vice of
America.
More than one private carriage was stationed at the water’s edge to
await the General’s orders, but they were dismissed with the
information that he would walk to the hotel. Upon receiving this
intimation the silent crowd divided itself in a very orderly manner,
leaving a space for him to walk through them. He did so, uncovered,
though the distance was considerable, and the weather very cold; but he
alone (with the exception of a few European gentlemen who were present)
was without a hat. He wore his grey hair, carelessly, but not
ungracefully arranged, and, spite of his harsh gaunt features, he looks
like a gentleman and a soldier. He was in deep mourning, having very
recently lost his wife; they were said to have been very happy
together, and I was pained by hearing a voice near me exclaim, as he
approached the spot where I stood, “There goes Jackson, where is his
wife?” Another sharp voice, at a little distance, cried, “Adams for
ever!” And these sounds were all I heard to break the silence.
“They manage these matters better” in the East, I have no doubt, but as
yet I was still in the West, and still inclined to think, that however
meritorious the American character may be, it is not amiable.
Mr. T. and his sons joined the group of citizens who waited upon him to
the hotel, and were presented to the President in form; that is, they
shook hands with him. Learning that he intended to remain a few hours
there, or more properly, that it would be a few hours before the
steam-boat would be ready to proceed, Mr. T. secured berths on board,
and returned, to take a hasty dinner with us. At the hour appointed by
the captain, Mr. T. and his son accompanied the General on board; and
by subsequent letters I learnt that they had conversed a good deal with
him, and were pleased by his conversation and manners, but deeply
disgusted by the brutal familiarity to which they saw him exposed at
every place on their progress at which they stopped; I am tempted to
quote one passage, as sufficiently descriptive of the manner, which so
painfully grated against their European feelings.
‘There was not a hulking boy from a keel-boat who was not introduced to
the President, unless, indeed, as was the case with some, they
introduced themselves: for instance, I was at his elbow when a greasy
fellow accosted him thus:-
“General Jackson, I guess?”
‘The General bowed assent.
“Why they told me you was dead.”
“No! Providence has hitherto preserved my life.”
“And is your wife alive too?”
‘The General, apparently much hurt, signified the contrary, upon which
the courtier concluded his harangue, by saying, “Aye, I thought it was
the one or the t’other of ye.”’