On arriving at Boston, I found the whole city in movement to assist, as
the French say, in the ascent of a balloon, constructed by a Mr. Durant,
already well known as an experienced and intrepid aeronaut.
Purchasing a ticket for the Amphitheatre, a lofty temporary enclosure
with rows of seats running round it, I fell into the crowd, and made my
way across the common at the extremity of which the building in question
was situated.
Although the day was hot and bright, there was a very strong southerly
wind blowing; and rolling away to the north-east, heavy masses of cloud
passed over the sun like snow-drifts, promising a rapid flight for the
balloon.
This common, flanked as it is by the finest residences of the city, the
Bostonians often compare with our Hyde Park. Its surface is broken and
irregular, and on this day the whole area was alive with expectant
gazers; whilst the several lines of streets leading into it were
thronged with hurrying reinforcements.
Selecting a point of vantage, I stood for some time examining the
materials out of which this vast congregation was made up, and I have
never seen a population whose general appearance would endure so close a
scrutiny as well.
I computed that the women outnumbered their less attractive companions
by at least a third: these were all in holiday trim, of course;
invariably well dressed, but commonly having a pretension to taste and
style I have never elsewhere observed so universally prevalent amongst
the same class. The men, both in air and dress, were inferior to their
female friends; so much so that it was difficult to imagine them
belonging to the same order: and this remark, I think, will be found to
apply generally throughout the Union.
It is not difficult to account for this discrepancy: a love of adornment
is natural to women; the general prosperity which prevails here enables
all classes to indulge a taste for dress, whilst the leisure enjoyed by
females gives them facilities for acquiring those little aids by which
gay attire is disposed and set off to the best advantage.
After a time I slowly made my way to the Amphitheatre, presented my
ticket and was admitted within the enclosure, where the arrangements for
the flight were in busy progress.
The inflation was nearly complete, and the huge machine rolled about
from side to side uneasily abiding the restraint which alone prevented
its immediate ascent. It was covered by the netting commonly used; and
about this a number of volunteer assistants clung, restraining the
balloon whilst the aeronaut made all his little arrangements.
The car was a small wicker basket; its cargo consisted of a few bags of
sand for ballast, a barometer, and a couple of small kedges with lines
to match. I had no idea a balloon could be brought up, all standing, by
so small a cable.
I observed Mr. Durant devoted no small attention to the disposition of a
little fellow-passenger he purposed giving a lift to,--a rabbit, muzzled
and netted within a small basket, which, being appended to a parachute,
was destined to come from aloft with the latest lunar intelligence.
Chance, however, robbed the rabbit of the honour of performing this
desperate service; for as the balloon was about to mount, the pipe bound
within the neck of the valve was by some unlucky pull withdrawn, and,
before this could be re-inserted, so much gas had escaped it became
necessary to make a proportionate diminution in the freight. The rabbit
was at once detached from the car, evidently chagrined at the
disappointment, judging by the resistance it made; and several bags of
ballast, together with such stores as might be best spared, were also
discharged.
During all this time, and the bustle consequent upon the accident, Mr.
Durant preserved the most admirable coolness; and, having stopped the
leak, next set about repairing his fractured netting with infinite
quickness and dexterity.
On a second attempt he rose in good style, loudly cheered by the
spectators within the Amphitheatre; but no sooner had he cleared its
wall than the shout of the people arose. Making a stoop almost to their
heads, he discharged the greater part of the remaining ballast, and
mounting again, was borne away to the eastward with great rapidity. The
crowd dispersed immediately, but the whole afternoon was filled by the
accounts constantly arriving of his route, and the probable result.
Report was at an early hour brought that the machine had been seen to
alight in the ocean, about sixteen miles north-east of Nahant, where it
sank in sight of several schooners, taking its pilot down with it. Soon
after it was affirmed that a Portland steamer had rescued the man, and
that the balloon alone was drowned.
In this state of uncertainty the public continued until about nine
o'clock next morning, at which hour Mr. Durant walked into the hall of
the Tremont, where numbers of persons were arguing his probable fate.
After the greeting of his friends was over, he gave a very particular
and interesting account of the peril he had been rescued from. It
appeared that the aerial part of his voyage had terminated, as was
reported, in the Atlantic, some miles off Nahant. Sustained by an
inflated girdle, he hung on to the balloon, and was dragged after it at
no small rate for some time, until a schooner falling in with this
strange sail, gave chase, and overhauled the queer craft.
As soon as the schooner got alongside, a line was flung to the aeronaut,
which he, solicitous to save his machine as well as himself, made fast
to the car, and bade them hoist away: the first hearty pull lifted the
balloon from the waves, when, the wind catching it, up it mounted. The
line to which it was fastened chanced to be the topsail halliards; and
whisk! before a belay could be passed, up flew poor Mr. Durant high over
the vessel's mast; after hanging on for a moment, his strength failed,
and down he plumped from an elevation of some hundred and fifty feet
back into the sea. How deep he dived, or for what length of time he
remained below amongst the codling, he did not say, not having
calculated "the sum of his sensation to a second:" but he readily
"guessed" he would no-how admire such another tumble. His resolution,
however, was nothing abated; for he immediately began to repair his
balloon, and make ready for a new "sail i' the air."
The day following the return of the adventurous balloonist, I left
Boston, accompanied by my friend Captain B----n, taking the land route
for Newport, Rhode Island. Our vehicle was a Jersey waggon, with a
couple of capital ponies; we started early, breakfasted at a good
road-side inn, and reached the town of Taunton about mid-day, where we
halted to let the heat of the sun pass over, and dine.
We took a stroll about the little town, which is famous for its cotton
manufactures; and were pleased to observe every symptom of prosperity
that might be outwardly exhibited,--a well-dressed population, houses
remarkably clean and neat, with much bustle in the streets. The military
mania, which pervades the whole country, we also saw here exhibited in a
way really quite amusing, and by a class to whom it would be well were
it confined, since the display was more becoming in them than in any
less precocious corps of volunteers I remember to have seen.
Whilst standing in the shade of our hotel, the rattle of drums gave note
of some display of war; an event of daily occurrence during this season
of the year throughout these northern States, where playing at soldiers
is one of the choicest amusements. Captain B----n asked a stander-by
what volunteer corps was parading to-day: "Why, I don't rightly know;
but I guess it may be the Taunton Juvenile Democratic Lancers."
Our informant was quite right; for whilst, puzzled by the gravity of the
man, I was considering whether or no he meant a hoax by the style which
he bestowed upon the gallant corps, into the square it marched, with
drums beating and colours flying. The colonel commanding was a smart
little fellow, about twelve years old, dressed in a fancy uniform
jacket, and ample linen cossacks; his regiment mustered about forty rank
and file, independent of a numerous and efficient staff: they were in
full uniform; most of them were about the colonel's age, some of the
cornets perhaps a trifle younger, as became their station; they were
armed with lances; and their motto was most magnanimous, being all about
glory, death, liberty, and democracy. Nothing could be more steady than
the movements of this corps on foot; and, when mounted, I have no doubt
they prove as highly efficient a body as any volunteer lancer cavalry in
the Union.
This could not be called "teaching the young idea how to shoot," since
the corps only bore _l'arme blanche_; but it was highly creditable to
the waggery of the citizens of Taunton, and the most efficient burlesque
upon the volunteer system I had yet seen, although I have encountered
many more elaborately gotten up.
Whilst we were devising some means of visiting the principal
manufactory, a gentleman entered our room, and introducing himself said,
that, having recognised me in the street, he had called to know if he
could be of any service in showing myself and friend the only lions of
the place,--its manufactories.
This act of politeness, which I have found a common occurrence in every
part of the Union, at once relieved us from our difficulty, and off we
set in company with our civil guide to visit the largest depot of the
place.
The designs of the printed cottons, and the colours, both struck me as
being exceedingly good; in texture, however, I did not conceive any of
the cloths equal to similar stuffs which I had seen at home in
manufacturing towns. One of the partners informed me that they supplied
large quantities of goods to the markets both of India and of South
America: the manufacturer's chief drawback, he said, was found in the
cost of labour; indeed, judging by the dress and neat appearance of the
young women employed here, they must be exceedingly well paid: a
comparison drawn between them and the same class of _employees_ in
England would be singularly in favour of the Taunton "Maids of the
Mill."
The cool time of the day being come, we once more had our active ponies
put to, and away they went as eager to "go a-head" as on our first
start. From this place to Pocassett the ride was lovely: our road lay
high above the river; and, over the luxuriant foliage,
topsail-schooners, large sloops, and other craft, were seen working
their different courses, some bound up, others to Providence, Newport,
or the ports on the coast.
A few miles from the town we came upon a small clearing by the
road-side, evidently in use as a place of burial, and nothing ever
struck me as more neglected; a few decayed boards, with an ill-shaped
falling head-stone or two, were all the prosperous living had bestowed
upon their departed kindred. This neglect of those little decencies with
which, amongst most people, places of sepulture are surrounded, is a
thing of common observance in this part of the Union, and is one of the
reproaches readily noticeable by all strangers. The distinction in this
respect between the North and South is remarkable, and highly creditable
to the feelings of the latter.
By the time we reached Pocassett it was nearly dark, and here we
settled for the night, having driven the ponies fifty odd miles, without
their being in the least distressed, and on a day of no ordinary fervor.
In the evening we attended a book sale, and were much amused by the
volubility and humour of the Yankee salesman, who, with his coat off in
a close crowded room, lectured upon the merits of the authors he
offered, whether poetical, religious, historical, mathematical, or
political, with equal ease and grace, greatly to the edification of the
bystanders. The editions were chiefly American, made to sell, and thus
exceedingly cheap. History and novels appeared to be the literature in
demand; and Walter Scott, Byron, and Bulwer, the names most familiar in
the verbal catalogue galloped over by the "learned gentleman," as our
auctioneer advertisements have it.
The hotel here was remarkably neat and clean; we procured an excellent
cup of tea, and next morning found a most substantial breakfast. After
seeing the population assemble for church, and walking about the banks
of the river, which are very beautiful, we about noon set out for our
final destination, over a villanous, rough road, reached Rhode Island,
by the long substantial causeway connecting it with the main land, and
from this point we had a good turnpike, pulling up at Newport by two
o'clock.
The public dinner was already over, being Sabbath; but the proprietor of
our hotel, a worthy Quaker named Potter, got us a very comfortable meal
at five o'clock, according to our wishes: meantime we rid ourselves of
the accumulated dust of two days, and were comfortably established in
out-quarters, the hotel being full.