IMPORTANT WORKS
JUST PUBLISHED BY
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW-YORK.
* * * * *
The Works of Charles Lamb. To which are prefixed his Letters, and a
Sketch of his Life, by Thomas Noon Talfourd. 2 vols. 12mo. Portrait.
A Journal of Travels on the Continent of Europe: viz., in England,
Ireland, Scotland, France, Italy, Switzerland, some Parts of Germany,
and the Netherlands, during the Years 1835 and '36. By Wilbur Fisk, D.D.
8vo. With Engravings.
Memoirs of Aaron Burr. With Miscellaneous Selections from his
Correspondence. 2 vols. 8vo. Portraits.
A New Hieroglyphical Bible, with 400 Cuts, by Adams. 16mo.
Incidents of Travel in Egypt, Arabia Petræa, and the Holy Land. 2 vols.
12mo. _Third Edition._ With Engravings.
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket. Comprising the Details
of a Mutiny and atrocious Butchery on board the American Brig Grampus on
her Way to the South Seas in the Month of June, 1827, &c., &c., &c.
12mo. Engravings.
Sketches of the Life and Character of the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, A.M. By
Timothy Mather Cooley, D.D. With some Introductory Remarks by Wm. B.
Sprague, D.D. 12mo. Portrait.
The Economy of Health; or, the Stream of Human Life from the Cradle to
the Grave. With Reflections, Moral, Physical, and Philosophical, on the
Septennial Phases of Human Existence. By James Johnson, M.D. 18mo.
The Monk of Cimiés. By Mrs. Sherwood. 12mo. Engravings. [Vol. XIV. of
her Works.]
Henry Milner. Complete. [Vol. XV. of Mrs. Sherwood's Works.]
Sacred History of the World. By Sharon Turner. Vol. III. [No. 83 of the
Family Library.]
Scenery of the Heavens. By Thomas Dick, LL.D., Author of "Christian
Philosopher," &c. 18mo. Engravings.
Embassy to the Eastern Courts of Cochin-China, Siam, and Muscat. By
Edmund Roberts. 8vo.
Zion's Songster. Compiled by Rev. T. Mason. 48mo.
Leila; or, the Siege of Grenada. By E. L. Bulwer: Esq., Author of "Eugene
Aram," &c. 12mo.
Ernest Maltravers. By the Author of "Pelham," "Rienzi," &c. 2 vols.
12mo.
Attila. By the Author of "Richelieu," "Philip Augustus," "The Gipsy,"
&c. 2 vols. 12mo.
Pelayo: a Story of the Goth. By the Author of "Guy Rivers,"
"Mellichampe," &c. 2 vols. 12mo.
Burton; or, the Sieges. By the Author of "Lafitte," &c. 2 vols. 12mo.
Live and Let Live; or, Domestic Service Illustrated. By the Author of
"The Linwoods," "The Poor Rich Man," &c. 18mo.
A Love Token for Children. By the Author of "Live and Let Live," &c.
18mo.
Cromwell: a Romance. By the Author of "The Brothers," &c. 2 vols. 12mo.
Recollections of a Southern Matron. By the Author of "Recollections of a
New-England Housekeeper." 12mo.
Falkner. By the Author of "Frankenstein," "Lodore," &c. 12mo.
Constance Latimer; or, the Blind Girl. With other Stories. By Mrs. Emma
C. Embury. 18mo.
_Anthon's Series of Classical Works for Schools and Colleges, now in the
course of publication._
--> The following works, already published, may be regarded as specimens
of the whole series, which will consist of about thirty volumes.
Sallust's Jugurthine War and Conspiracy of Catiline, with an English
Commentary, and Geographical and Historical Indexes. By Charles Anthon,
LL.D. Sixth Edition, corrected and enlarged. 12mo. With a Portrait.
Select Orations of Cicero, with an English Commentary, and Historical,
Geographical, and Legal Indexes. By Charles Anthon, LL.D., &c: 12mo.
Third Edition.
Cæsar. With Notes; etc., by Professor Anthon. 12mo. With a Map of
Ancient Gaul, and Plans of Battles, Sieges, &c.
A Grammar of the Greek Language, for the Use of Schools and Colleges,
with Teutonic, Gothic, Sclavonic, Gaelic, Sanscrit, and Zend Analogies.
By C. Anthon, LL.D. 12mo.
A System of Greek Prosody and Metre, with Illustrations of the Choral
Scanning in the Dramatic Writers. By C. Anthon; LL.D. 12mo.
RETROSPECT
OF
WESTERN TRAVEL.
BY
HARRIET MARTINEAU,
AUTHOR Of "SOCIETY IN AMERICA," "ILLUSTRATIONS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY," ETC.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
PUBLISHED BY SAUNDERS AND OTLEY
NEW-YORK:
SOLD BY HARPER & BROTHERS
1838.
PREFACE.
When I finished my late work on Society in America, I had not the most
remote idea of writing anything more on the subject of the New World. I
have since been strongly solicited to communicate more of my personal
narrative, and of the lighter characteristics of men, and incidents of
travel, than it suited my purpose to give in the other work. It has also
been represented to me that, as my published-book concerns the Americans
at least as much as the English, there is room for another which shall
supply to the English what the Americans do not want--a picture of the
aspect of the country, and of its men and manners. There seems no reason
why such a picture should not be appended to an inquiry into the theory
and practice of their society; especially as I believe that I have
little to tell which will not strengthen the feelings of respect and
kindness with which the people of Great Britain are more and more
learning to regard the inhabitants of the Western Republic. I have,
therefore, willingly acceded to the desire of such of my readers as have
requested to be presented with my Retrospect of Western Travel.
H. MARTINEAU.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.
Page
The Voyage 13
First Impressions 35
The Hudson 43
Pine Orchard House 57
Weddings 63
High Road Travelling 71
Fort Erie 90
Niagara 96
Priestley 109
Prisons 123
First Sight of Slavery 139
Life at Washington 143
The Capitol 164
Mount Vernon 186
Madison 189
Jefferson's University 199
Country Life in the South 208
City Life in the South 223
Restless Slaves 242
New-Orleans 254
RETROSPECT
OF
WESTERN TRAVEL.
THE VOYAGE.
"When the sun dawn'd, gay and glad,
We set the sail and plied the oar;
But when the night-wind blew like breath,
For joy of one day's voyage more,
We sang together on the wide sea,
Like men at peace on a peaceful shore;
Each sail was loosed to the wind so free,
The helm made sure by the twilight star,
And in a sleep as calm as death
We the voyagers from afar
Lay stretched."
_Paracelsus_, Part iv.
The packet-ship in which my passage was taken, the United States,
Captain Nathan Holdrege, was to have sailed from Liverpool on Friday,
the 8th of August, 1834, at eleven o'clock. At half past ten my
fellow-traveller and I, with our friends, were on the way to the dock,
in some doubt about our departure, from the wind being directly against
us, when we met a gentleman interested in the sailing of the vessel, who
told us that we might turn back, as the captain had given up all hope of
getting out of port that day. This was uncomfortable news enough. We had
bidden farewell to many friends, half the pain of parting was over, and
there was little pleasure in having it all to go through again.
We resolved to proceed to the dock, to put our luggage on board, and see
for ourselves the true state of affairs. It was not very agreeable. The
deck was encumbered with water-casks and chests; the captain was
fidgeting about, giving his orders in a voice rather less placid than
ordinary; a great number of inquiring persons, who had come down to see
us off, had to be told that we were not going to-day, and why; and
several of the American passengers were on the spot, looking very
melancholy. They had entered the 8th in their journals as the day of
sailing, brought down their portmanteaus, paid their bills at the hotel,
and taken leave of Boots and chambermaid. Here they were left with
four-and-twenty dreary and expensive hours upon their hands, and who
knew how many more than four-and-twenty? One declared that the wind
appeared as if it had set in against us, and he should not be surprised
if it was a week before we sailed. Their fate was so truly mournful,
that I was ashamed of feeling any discomfiture on my own account,
domesticated as I was in the nearest and dearest of homes next to my
own. Our disconsolate acquaintance among the passengers were invited to
dispose of their evening with us; and we returned to tell the children,
and everybody whom we met, that we were not gone, and wherefore. Of
course, we presently recollected several reasons why it was well that we
had another day. There were two letters which it was highly desirable I
should write from Liverpool rather than from New-York; and the children
had never before found leisure to show me the cupboards and shelves
where they kept their playthings; so that, if the wind had been fair, I
should actually have gone away without seeing them.
We sauntered all the afternoon in the Zoological Gardens, and, as we
returned, caught each other looking up at every weathercock we passed.
In the evening our visiters dropped in, each ready with a speculation as
to how the wind would be to-morrow.
On the morrow the weathercock told no better news; and a note was on the
breakfast-table which informed us that there was no chance of our
sailing that day. I was now really sorry. It was Saturday; and I feared
my host would write no sermon if I remained to keep his household in an
unsettled state. Our seadresses, too, would not serve for a Sunday in
Liverpool, and our books and work were all on board with our wardrobes.
The tidings were therefore welcome which were brought early in the
forenoon, that the captain had engaged a steamboat to tow us out to sea.
By eleven o'clock the carriage of a friend was at the door, with
bouquets of flowers, and baskets of grapes and other acid refreshments,
which it was thought might be welcome at sea.
"Have you _no_ misgivings?" asked an intimate, before whose imagination
the Western World now rose tremendous in its magnitude. "Have you no
misgivings now?" I had none, and it was well. If I had had such as would
have made me draw back in the last moment, what a world of good should I
have foregone! Not only what knowledge, but what a store of imagery!
What intense and varied enjoyment! and, above all, what friendships!
When I now look back upon what I have gained, and at how small an
expense of peril and inconvenience, I cannot but regard my setting foot
on board ship as one of the most fortunate acts of my life.
When we arrived at the dock we found there was really to be no further
delay. The knots of friends, the crowds of gazers were gathering; the
steamer was hissing and puffing in the river, and the song of the
sailors was heard, as they were warping our ship out of the dock. In a
few minutes we and the other passengers were requested to step on board.
I first carried my flowers down to my stateroom, intending to hide them
there till we should be out of sight of land, when an apparition of
fresh flowers upon deck might be more than commonly welcome. I then took
my station by a window of the roundhouse, whence I could see all that
passed on shore without being much seen. Thence I could observe my
brother and sisters speaking to each other, and pointing out things
which I could easily interpret. It occurred to me that I could send them
one more token, by means of the little waves which rolled away from the
sides of our ship, and washed the pier on which the crowd was standing.
I threw out a rose at a moment when I caught a watchful eye; and I saw
it borne, after many vagaries, directly under their feet. Suddenly I
missed them from the spot where they were standing, and supposed they
were quite tired (as they well might have been), and had gone home. But
it was not so. They had withdrawn only in order to secure front places
at the extreme end of the pier, whence they might watch us yet longer
than from their former station. There they stood, as long as we could
distinguish any forms from among the crowd. Then three cheers were
exchanged between the crew and the shore, and the passengers strained
their eyes no more.
The greater number then went below to make arrangements in their
staterooms; and afterward ensued the ceremony of introducing the company
to each other on deck. Our number was twenty-three, six of whom formed
the party to which I belonged; or, rather, so it seemed to ourselves
before we went on board. The distinction was afterward forgotten, for
the company assembled was, with two or three exceptions, so exceedingly
agreeable and so wonderfully congenial, considering how accidentally we
were brought together, that we mingled completely as one party. We had
among us a Prussian physician; a New-England divine; a Boston merchant,
with his sprightly and showy young wife; a high-spirited young South
Carolinian, fresh from a German university; a newly-married couple,
whose station was not exactly discoverable while on board, but who
opened a public-house soon after their arrival in New-York; a Scotch
major, whose peculiarities made him the butt of the young men; an
elderly widow lady; two amiable young ladies; and a Scotch lady, "of no
particular age," but of very particular placidity and good-humour; and a
youth out of Yorkshire, who was leaving his parents' roof for the first
time alone, and who was destined never to return to it. The number was
made up by English and American merchants; young men so accustomed to
pass between Liverpool and New-York, that the voyage was little more to
them than an expedition to Primrose Hill is to a cockney.
The cold dinner and drinking of healths customary on the day of sailing
succeeded. Then there was the library to look over, and trial to be made
of a seat on the rail, whence we could see the dim shores as we glided
smoothly along in the wake of the steamer. By the time it was dusk the
latter had performed her engagement. We saw the payment handed over, and
the shaking of hands of the two captains, and then she disengaged
herself from us, and began ploughing her way to the north coast of
Ireland. We felt very helpless when she was gone, the little wind there
was being unfavourable. There was so little, however, as to allow us
novices a night of sound sleep at the outset.
On Sunday we crept along in almost a calm, having a glimpse of the dim
outline of the Isle of Man in the morning, and being still in sight of
Holyhead in the evening. To me it was a day of luxury; for, jaded as I
had been with business and novelty, there was no circumstance of the
voyage that I valued so highly as the impossibility of receiving letters
or news for three weeks or a month. The gliding on thus in a calm, with
time to think and be still, was all that I wanted; but the Americans,
who had home on the horizon before them, and longed to be at rest
there, looked grave on this inauspicious beginning of their transit. On
Monday, however, they felt, from another cause, a good deal worse. The
wind had freshened, but I believe nobody cared which way or how fast it
blew us. The only meal at which I was not present was that of Monday's
dinner. I can testify to the breakfast and tea being quiet and sad
enough, with a sprinkling of languid passengers at table, and a
knowledge of how wretched all the rest were in their rooms.
On Tuesday began my experience of the pleasures of the sea. The wind had
freshened to a strong breeze, which had so rocked us in our berths that
I rose miserably ill. I was strongly persuaded of the necessity of
exertion in seasickness, of having fresh air, and of getting out of the
way of the sights and sounds of the cabin; and I therefore persevered in
dressing and going up to the deck. There was the captain, with only one
passenger to talk with, and heartily glad at the prospect of another
being convalescent. He seated me on the rail, where I kept my eyes away
from the helpless invalids who were strewed about the deck, and in half
an hour I was quite well. We were careering along in most exhilarating
style. The wind was so strong as to put the wearing a bonnet out of the
question. I had happily been furnished with a sort of cap, which no lady
should go to sea without; a black silk cap, well wadded. With the head
thus defended, and a large warm cloak, a lady may abide almost any
weather, and avoid the _désagremens_ and unwholesomeness of the cabin.
My eye was never weary of watching the dashing and boiling of the dark
green waves, from the gray horizon to the ship's side; and I know of no
motion so gladsome as that of riding the high billows in a brisk breeze.
The captain pointed out to me the first of the monsters of the deep that
I ever saw; a large blackfish, tumbling about joyously by itself in the
stormy sea, now throwing its thick body forward in ungainly gambols, and
now rearing its forked tail perpendicularly as it prepared to dive.
My flowers did not disappoint my expectations. They were still quite
fresh on the Wednesday, when, as we were out of sight of land, I carried
them up to the deck, and gave each passenger one, that being precisely
my supply. I never saw flowers give so much pleasure before, except in
cases of long confinement from illness. Truly they were very like a
message from home.
In two or three days more all but two ladies and one gentleman had
settled themselves into the routine of sea life. It was very desirable
that they should do so, as on the 15th we were still little more than
three hundred miles from Liverpool. It would have been dismal to add
idleness and unsettledness to the discouragement caused by such a
beginning of our voyage. Our mode of life was very simple and quiet; to
me, very delightful. I enjoyed it so much that I delayed beginning my
letters home till we had been a week at sea, lest I should write some
extravagance which I should afterward have to qualify or retract. None
of my subsequent experience, however, has altered my feeling that a
voyage is the most pleasant pastime I have ever known.
The passengers showed themselves upon deck some time between seven and
nine in the morning. Each one either made his way to the binnacle to see
for himself what course we were upon, or learned the important
intelligence from some obliging individual who held the fact at the
general service. We all asked the captain at first, but soon
discontinued the practice when we found that favourable answers were
likely to be rare, and how it must vex him to tell us every morning that
we were scarcely getting on at all.
After a brisk morning's walk upon deck, no one was sorry to hear the
breakfast-bell. Breakfast was the most cheerful meal of the day. If ever
there was any news to tell, it was then. The early risers could
sometimes speak to the sluggards of a big fish, of a passing sail, of a
frolic among the sailors. I was asked once by a passenger, in a tone
whose laziness cannot be conveyed on paper, "What, did ye see the whale
this mornin'?"
"No. It came at four o'clock, when I was asleep; but the captain
promises to have me called next time, whatever the hour may be."
"What, d'ye want to see a whale?"
"Yes, very much."
"Well, but I dare say you have seen a pictur' o' one."
It was not apparent to him that this was not an equally good thing.
After breakfast, the gentlemen who kept journals produced their
writing-cases in the cabin. The ladies sat in sunny or shaded places on
deck, netting, making table-mats, or reading, or mounted the railing to
talk or look abroad. I had a task to do, which is a thing that should
be avoided on board ship. I had a long article to write; and nothing
else would I do, on fine mornings, till it was finished. It is
disagreeable writing in the cabin, with people flitting all about one.
It is unwholesome writing in one's stateroom in the month of August. The
deck is the only place. The first care, after breakfast, of my clerical
friend the New-Englander, was to find me a corner where the wind would
not blow my paper about, where the sun would not dazzle me, and where I
might be quiet; and then he took his seat behind the roundhouse, with a
row of children from the steerage before him to do their lessons. I
wondered at first how he would teach them without books, slates, or any
other visible implements of instruction; but when I saw him get a
potato, and cut it into two and four parts, to show the children what
halves and quarters were, I was assured he would prosper with them. And
so he did. They went to school to excellent purpose; and I dare say they
will send back grateful thoughts all through their lives upon the kind
gentleman who attended to them on the voyage.
For some time I was daily baffled in my purpose of writing by the
observation of persons who seemed not only entirely ignorant of the
process of composition, but very anxious to learn it. Not only did the
children from the steerage spy from behind chests and casks, and peep
over my shoulder, but the inquirer about the whale was wont to place
himself directly in front of me, with his arms akimbo, and his eyes
fixed on the point of my pen. Somebody gave him a hint at last, and I
was left in peace. By two o'clock, when the deck began to fill again
after luncheon, my head and eyes had had enough of writing, and I
joyfully mounted the rail. If I wanted to watch the sea undisturbed, I
held a Shakspeare in my hand. If I carried no book, somebody came to
talk. What fleets of Portuguese men-of-war did we see at those hours! I
hardly know whether these little mariners of the deep are most beautiful
when gliding, rich in their violet hues, along the calm sunny surface of
the summer sea, or when they are tossed about like toys by rough dark
waves. One day, when I was exclaiming on their beauty, a young lady,
industriously working at her table-mats, observed that it was very odd
that she had crossed this ocean three times, and had never seen a
Portuguese man-of-war. I concluded that she had never looked for them,
and asked the favour of her to stand by my side for one half hour. She
did so, and saw three. I strongly suspect that those who complain of the
monotony of the ocean do not use their eyes as they do on land. It seems
to be the custom at sea to sit on deck, looking abroad only when the sun
is setting, or the moon rising, or when there is a sail to be speculated
upon. Some of the most beautiful sights I caught were when no one else
was looking down quite into the deep, the only way to see most of the
creatures that live there. One day I was startled, while thus gazing,
with an excessive radiance, like an expanse of brilliant rainbow, far
down in the sunny deep under our bows. My exclamation brought one
witness to behold, as I did, the distinct form of a dolphin come out of
the light. It was a family of dolphins, the only ones that were seen on
the voyage. Many a flying fish darted from the crest of one wave into
another. Many a minuet did Mother Carey's chickens trip, with their
slender web-feet, on the momentary calm left between two billows. Many a
shining visiter came up from the lowest deep to exchange glances and be
gone. I soon found it was in vain to call people to look. These sights
are too transient to be caught otherwise than by watching. When a shoal
of porpoises came to race with the ship, every one on board was up on
the rail to see; and an exhilarating sight it is, when the ship is going
before the wind in a rough sea, and the porpoises dart visibly through
the midst of a billow, and pitch, and rise, and cross each other's path,
swiftly and orderly, without ever relaxing their speed, till they are
tired of play. It is impossible to help having a favourite among the
shoal, and watching him with an interest and admiration which, upon
consideration, are really ridiculous.
The most generally interesting sight, perhaps, was a sail; and we were
never a day without seeing one or more. Sometimes three or four seemed
to be peeping at us from the horizon. Sometimes our ship and another
were nearing each other almost all day. Once or twice I was startled
with a sudden apparition of one close at hand, with all her sails set,
black in a streak of moonlight, when I went up to bid the sea
good-night. One morning early I found the deck in a bustle, from a ship
having made signals of distress. "A ship in distress!" everybody began
shouting. "A ship in distress!" cried I to the ladies in the cabin, one
of whom came up muffled in a cloak, and another with her nightcap under
her bonnet, rather than miss the romance of the scene. The hearts of the
novices were all ready to bleed; the faces of the gentlemen began to
wear, in anticipation, an expression of manly compassion, as we hung out
our colours, shortened sail (one of the first times we had been going
right on our course), and wore round, while all the people of both ships
gathered on the decks, and the captains brandished their trumpets. She
was French, and her distress was that she had lost her longitude! Our
good captain, very angry at the loss of time from such a cause, said
they ought to have lost their heads with it, shouted out the longitude,
and turned into our course again. The ladies went back to finish their
toilet in an ordinary mood of sensibility, and the French went on their
way, we may conclude, rejoicing.
A distant sail was one day decided to be a merchant ship from the south
of France, to everybody's apparent satisfaction but mine. I had a strong
persuasion that she was not French, but felt how presumptuous it would
be to say so. I watched her, however; and, at the end of three hours,
directed the captain's attention again to her. He snatched his glass,
and the next moment electrified us all by the vehemence of his
directions to the helmsman and others of the crew. It was a rival
packet-ship, the Montreal, which had left Portsmouth four days before we
sailed. We were in for a race, which lasted three days, after which we
lost sight of our rival, till she reached New-York after us. Our captain
left the dinner-table three times this first day of the race, and was
excessively anxious throughout. It was very exciting to us all. We
concluded, after fair trial, that she beat in a light wind and we in a
strong one. Some weeks after our landing I fell in with two passengers
from the Montreal, who described the counterpart of the scene we had
beheld as having taken place on board their ship. There had been the
same start of surprise on the part of their captain, who had also left
the dinner-table three times; the same excitement among the passengers;
and the same conclusion as to the respective sailing merits of the two
vessels.
From four to six we were dining. Some of us felt it rather annoying to
be so long at table; but it is a custom established on board these
packets, for the sake, I believe, of those who happen to find the day
too long. Such persons need compassion, and their happier companions can
afford to sacrifice something to their ease; so no one objects openly to
devoting two of the best hours of the day to dinner and dessert. The
rush up to the deck, however, when they are over, shows what the taste
of the majority is. One afternoon the ladies were called down again, and
found in their cabin a surprise at least as agreeable as my flowers. A
dessert of pines and grapes had been sent in by a gentleman who found
that a friend had put a basket of choice fruits on board for his use,
but who preferred favouring the ladies with them. He was sent for to
preside at the table he had thus spread, and was not a little rallied by
his brother passengers on his privileges. These things seem trifles on
paper, but they yield no trifling amusement on a voyage. Our afternoons
were delightful; for the greater number of the forty-two days that we
were at sea, the sun set visibly, with more or less lustre, and all eyes
were watching his decline. There was an unusual quietness on board just
about sunset. All the cabin passengers were collected on one side,
except any two or three who might be in the rigging. The steerage
passengers were to be seen looking out at the same sight, and probably
engaged as we were in pointing out some particular bar of reddened
cloud, or snowy mountain of vapours, or the crimson or golden light
spattered on the swelling sides of the billows as they heaved sunward.
Then came the last moment of expectation, even to the rising on tiptoe,
as if that would enable us to see a spark more of the sun; and then the
revival of talk, and the bustle of pairing off to walk. This was the
hour for walking the deck; and, till near teatime, almost the whole
company might be seen parading like a school. I never grew very fond of
walking on a heaving floor, on which you have to turn at the end of
every thirty paces or so; but it is a duty to walk on board ship, and it
is best to do it at this hour, and in full and cheerful company.
After tea the cabin was busy with whist and chess parties, readers, and
laughers and talkers. On damp and moonless evenings I joined a whist
party; but my delight was the deck at this time, when I had it all to
myself, or when I could at least sit alone in the stern. I know no
greater luxury than sitting alone in the stern on fine nights, when
there is no one within hearing but the helmsman, and sights of beauty
meet the eye wherever it turns. Behind, the light from the binnacle
alone gleams upon the deck; dim, shifting lights and shadows mark out
the full sails against the sky, and stars look down between. The young
moon drops silently into the sea afar. In our wake is a long train of
pale fire, perpetually renewed as we hiss through the dark waves. On
such a quiet night, how startling is a voice from the deck, or a shout
of laughter from the cabin! More than once, when I heard the voices of
children and the barking of a dog from the steerage, I wholly forgot for
the moment that I was at sea, and, looking up, was struck breathless at
the sight of the dim, gray, limitless expanse. Never, however, did I see
the march of the night so beautiful over hill, dale, wood, or plain, as
over the boundless sea, roofed with its complete arch. The inexpressible
silence, the undimmed lustre, the steady, visible motion of the sky,
make the night what it can nowhere be on land, unless in the midst of
the Great Desert or on a high mountain-top. It is not the clear still
nights alone that are beautiful. Nothing can be more chilling to the
imagination than the idea of fog, yet I have seen exquisite sights in a
night fog; not in a pervading, durable mist, but in such a fog as is
common at sea, thick and driving, with spaces through which the moon may
shine down, making clusters of silvery islands on every side. This was
an entirely new appearance to me, and the white archipelago was a
spectacle of great beauty. Then, again, the action of the ship in a
strong night-breeze is fine, cutting her steady way through the seething
water, and dashing them from her sides so uniformly and strongly, that
for half a mile on either hand the sea is as a white marble floor gemmed
with stars; just like a child's idea of "the pavement of the heavenly
courts." Such are the hours when all that one has ever known or thought
that is beautiful comes back softly and mysteriously; snatches of old
songs, all one's first loves in poetry and in the phantasmagoria of
nature. No sleep is sweeter than that into which one sinks in such a
mood, when one's spirit drops anchor amid the turbulence of the outward
world, and the very power of the elements seems to shed stillness into
the soul.
There must be many a set-off against such hours, however, or the whole
world would be rushing to sea. There would be parties to the Azores as
there now are to Rome, and people would be doubling the Capes as they
now cross the Simplon. There are disagreeable hours and days at sea;
whole days, when the ship rolls so as to stop employment in the cabin,
and the rain pours down so as to prevent any weary passenger from
putting out his head upon deck; when the captain is to be seen outside
in his seacoat, with the water streaming from nose, chin, hat, and every
projection of his costume; when every one's limbs are aching with
keeping himself from tumbling over his neighbour; when the tea and
coffee are cold, and all that is liquid is spilled, and everything solid
thrown out of its place. The best thing to be done on such days is to
sit in the roundhouse, each one well wedged in between two, the
balustrade in front, and the wall behind; all as loquacious as possible,
talking all manner of sense or nonsense that may occur; those who can
joke, joking; those who can sing, singing; those who know any new games,
teaching them. This is better than the only other thing that can be
done, lying in one's heaving berth; better, not only because it is more
sociable, but because there is a fairer chance of appetite and sleep
after the exercise of laughing (be the laughter about anything or
nothing) than after a day of uncomfortable listlessness.
A calm is a much less disagreeable affair, though it is not common to
say so. A dead calm affords a fine opportunity to the gentlemen for
writing and reading, and to the ladies for the repairs of the wardrobe.
Sewing, which I think a pleasant employment everywhere else, is trying
to the head at sea; and many omissions and commissions may be observed
in the matter of costume, which the parties would be ashamed of on land.
The difference after a calm is remarkable: the cap-borders are spruce;
the bonnets wear a new air; the gloves are whole; the married gentlemen
appear with complete sets of buttons and rectified stocks. The worst
quality of a calm is that it tries tempers a little too far. If there be
an infirmity of temper, it is sure to come out then. At such a time
there is much playing of shuffleboard upon deck, and the matches do not
always end harmoniously. "You touched mine with your foot." "I did not,
I declare." "Now, don't say so," &c., &c. "You are eight." "No, we are
ten." "I can show you you are only eight." "Well, if you can't count any
better than that," and so on. After three days of calm there may be
heard a subdued tone of scolding from the whist party at the top of the
table, and a stray oath from some checkmated person lower down; and
while the ladies are brushing their hair in their cabin, certain items
of information are apt to be given of how Mr. A. looked when the lady's
partner turned up trumps, and how shockingly Mr. B. pushed past Mr. C.
in going up the cabin to dinner. The first breath of favourable wind,
however, usually blows all these offences away, and tempers turn into
their right course with the ship.
I had heard so much at home of the annoyances on board ship, that I
made a list of them at the time for the consolation of my friends at
home, who were, I suspected, bestowing more compassion upon me than I
had any title to. I find them noted down as follows:--
Next to the sickness, an annoyance scarcely to be exaggerated while it
lasts, there is, first, the damp clammy feel of everything you touch.
Remedy, to wear gloves constantly, and clothes which are too bad to be
spoiled. In this latter device nearly the whole company were so
accomplished that it was hard to say who excelled.
Next, want of room. The remedy for this is a tight, orderly putting away
of everything; for which there is plenty of time.
Thirdly, the candles flare, and look untidy from running down twice as
fast as they burn. Remedy, to go out of the way of them; to the stern,
for instance, where there are far better lights to be seen.
Fourthly, the seats and beds are all as hard as boards: a grievance
where one cannot always walk when one's limbs want resting with
exercise. Remedy, patience. Perhaps air-cushions may be better still.
Fifthly, warning is given to be careful in the use of water. Remedy, to
bathe in seawater, and drink cider at dinner.
Sixthly, the cider is apt to get low. Remedy, take to soda-water, ale,
hock, or claret.
Seventhly, the scraping of the deck sets one's teeth on edge. For this I
know of no remedy but patience; for the deck must be scraped.
Eighthly, the rattling, stamping, and clattering overhead when the sails
are shifted in the night. Remedy, to go to sleep again.
Ninthly, sour bread. Remedy, to eat biscuit instead.
Tenthly, getting sunburnt. Remedy, not to look in the glass.
These are all that I can allow from my own experience. Some people talk
of danger, but I do not believe there is more than in travelling on
land. Some have called a ship a prison so often, that the saying seems
to have become current. But, in my idea, the evils of a prison are the
being coerced by another person's will; the being disgraced; the being
excluded from the face of nature; and the being debarred from society,
employment, and exercise. None of these objections apply to a ship as a
residence. As for the one point of resemblance, the being unable to
walk a mile or more out and back again, of how many persons is this the
voluntary choice, who were never either in a prison or a ship? I would
never take the responsibility of recommending any elderly, or nervous,
or untravelled persons to put themselves into a place which will not
keep still, nor anything in it, for a month or six weeks, and from which
they cannot get out; but I cannot think the confinement, by itself,
anything to be much complained of.
A bad captain must be the worst of annoyances, to judge by contrast from
the comfort we enjoyed under the government of an exceedingly good one.
We had all great faith in Captain Holdrege as an excellent sailor; and
we enjoyed daily and hourly proofs of his kindness of heart, and desire
to make everybody about him happy. It was amazing with what patience he
bore the teazings of some who were perpetually wanting to know things
that he could not possibly tell them; when we should be at New-York, and
so forth. The gentleman who unconsciously supplied the most merriment to
the party waylaid the captain one busy morning; one of the first when
there had been anything for the captain to do, and he was in such a
bustle that nobody else dreamed of speaking to him.
"Captain," said the gentleman, "I want to speak to you."
"Another time, sir, if you please. I am in a hurry now."
"But, captain, I want to speak to you very much."
"Speak, then, sir, and be quick, if you please."
"Captain, I am very glad you have a cow on board, because of the milk."
"Hum," said the captain, and went on with his business.
One Sunday morning, when we were on "the Banks," this gentleman came to
me with a doleful face, to tell me that he thought we should have been
at New-York to-day. I found that he had actually expected this up to the
night before, because he had been told, previous to sailing, that we
should probably spend our fourth Sunday at New-York. It was proposed to
tell him that we should probably be in the Pacific by the next morning,
to see whether he would believe it; but I believe the experiment was not
ventured upon. Some of the passengers, talking one day at dinner of
percussion caps, asked him whether they were used in a regiment of
which he had frequently spoken. He replied that he did not know, as he
had not inquired much into the costume of the army.
By the 23d of August we were only about one hundred and twenty miles
N.W. of the Azores. On the 1st of September, when our thoughts wandered
homeward to the sportsmen all abroad in the stubble, to the readers of
monthly periodicals in which we were interested, and to our families,
who were doubtless fancying us on the point of landing, we were not far
from where we were a week ago. We had had beautiful weather, but every
variety of westerly wind with it. The passengers began to flag. The
novels were all read; the ladies' work was all done; and shuffleboard
and chess will not do for ever. The captain began to send up an
occasional whet of cherry bounce to the ladies before dinner. For my own
part, I was finishing my writing, and finding my first leisure for
books; and I found myself forgetting New-York, and losing sight of all I
expected to see beyond it, in the pleasures of the sea. We were now
scarcely half way. The turning point of the voyage came the next day in
the shape of a storm.
Before I went on board I had said that I should like to behold a storm
as fierce as we could escape from without fatal damage. Some passenger
repeated this wish of mine (very common in persons going to sea for the
first time) in the hearing of the mate, who told the sailors; who,
accordingly, were overheard saying one afternoon that I had better come
on deck, and see what I should see. My clerical friend took the hint,
and called me hastily, to observe the crew make ready for a squall. I
ran up, and perceived the black line advancing over the water from the
horizon, the remarkable indication of a coming squall. The sailors were
running up the shrouds to get the sails in. The second mate was aloft,
in the post of danger, his long hair streaming in the wind, while with
us below all was calm. The sails were got in just in time. The captain
did not come down to dinner. Orders were given to "splice the
main-brace;" for the crew had been handling the ropes since four in the
morning. I saw them come for their grog, and then wait for what might
happen next. By sunset the sky was tremendous; the sea rising, the wind
moaning and whistling strangely. When I staggered to the stern, to bid
the sea good-night, according to custom, the waters were splendidly
luminous. Floods of blue fire were dashed abroad from our bows, and
beyond, the whole expanse sparkled as with diamonds.
All night the noises would have banished sleep if we could have lain
quiet. There was a roar of wind; the waves dashed against the sides of
the ship as if they were bursting in; water poured into our cabin,
though the skylight was fastened down. A heavy fall was now and then
heard from the other cabin; some passenger heaved out of his berth.
After five hours I could hold in no longer, and a tremendous lurch
tossed me out upon the floor, where I alighted upon my thimble and
scissors, the ottoman I was working (and which, I had felt confident,
was far enough off), my clothes, books, and the empty water-bottle. All
these things were lying in a wet heap. I traversed the ladies' cabin to
explore, holding by whatever was fastened to the floor. The only dry
place in which I could lie down was under the table, and standing was
out of the question; so I brought a blanket and pillow, laid down with a
firm hold of the leg of the table, and got an hour's welcome sleep, by
which time the storm was enough to have wakened the dead. The state of
our cabin was intolerable; the crashing of glass, the complaining voices
of the sick ladies, the creaking and straining of the ship; and, above
all, the want of air, while the winds were roaring over head. I saw no
necessity for bearing all this; so, sick as I was, I put my clothes on,
swathed myself in one cloak, and carried up another, wherewith to lash
myself to something on deck.
There, all was so glorious that I immediately stumbled down again to
implore the other ladies to come up and be refreshed; but no one would
listen to me. They were too ill. I got the captain's leave to fasten
myself to the post of the binnacle, promising to give no trouble, and
there I saw the whole of the never-to-be-forgotten scene.
We were lying in the trough of the sea, and the rolling was tremendous.
The captain wished to wear round, and put out a sail, which, though
quite new, was instantly split to ribands, so that we had to make
ourselves contented where we were. The scene was perfectly unlike what I
had imagined. The sea was no more like water than it was like land or
sky. When I had heard of the ocean running mountains high, I thought it
a mere hyperbolical expression. But here the scene was of huge wandering
mountains--wandering as if to find a resting-place--with dreary leaden
vales between. The sky seemed narrowed to a mere slip overhead, and a
long-drawn extent of leaden waters seemed to measure a thousand miles;
and these were crested by most exquisite shades of blue and green where
the foam was about to break. The heavens seemed rocking their masses of
torn clouds, keeping time with the billows to the solemn music of the
winds; the most swelling and mournful music I ever listened to. The
delight of the hour I shall not forget; it was the only new scene I had
ever beheld that I had totally and unsuspectingly failed to imagine.
It was impossible to remain longer than noon, unless we meant to be
drowned. When two or three gentlemen had been almost washed off, and the
ship had been once nearly half her length under water, it was time to go
below, sad as the necessity was. The gale gradually abated. In the
afternoon the ladies obtained leave to have their skylight opened, their
cabin mopped, and the carpets taken up and carried away to dry.
The sailors got the mate to inquire how I liked the storm. If I was not
satisfied now, I never should be. I was satisfied, and most thankful.
The only thing that surprised me much was, that there was so little
terrific about it. I was not aware till the next day, when the captain
was found to have set it down a hurricane in the logbook, how serious a
storm it was. The vessel is so obviously buoyant, that it appears
impossible to overwhelm her; and we were a thousand miles from any
rocks. In the excitement of such an hour, one feels that one would as
soon go down in those magnificent waters as die any other death; but
there was nothing present which impressed me with the idea of danger but
the terrors of two of the passengers. Of the poor ladies I can give no
account; but one gentleman pulled his travelling-cap forward over his
eyes, clasped his hands on his knees, and sat visibly shaking in a
corner of the roundhouse, looking shrunk to half his size. The fears of
another I regarded with more respect, because he tried hard to hide
them. He followed me throughout, talking in an artist-like style about
the tints, and the hues, and many other things that were to be noted,
but not talked about at the moment. If he succeeded in covering up his
fears from himself, one may well excuse the bad taste of the means
employed. My clerical friend did better. He was on the watch for others
and for himself. In high exhilaration, he helped everybody, saw
everything, and will, to the end of his days, I will answer for it,
forget nothing of that glorious time.
After the storm we met with few delays. A calm of nine hours enabled the
crew to repair all damage sustained; the rest of the time we were making
progress, though it was sometimes very slow. We went south of "the
Banks," and so missed something besides the fogs; our hoped-for treat of
fresh cod, and the spectacle of the fishermen's boats. Hereabout the dog
in the steerage smelt land, and stood snuffing, with his paws on the
rail. A wild pigeon flew on board, too, supposed to be from
Newfoundland; and the air was sensibly colder, as it becomes on
approaching the shore. The lottery with which the gentlemen had amused
themselves became now very interesting. It consisted of ten tickets, at
a sovereign each, answering to the ten days during which it had been
thought probable that we should land. The two earliest were now sold for
a shilling and eighteenpence; and the Captain gave five pounds for the
last, which bore date the 11th. This seemed to indicate the captain's
expectation that our progress would still be slow; but we were scarcely
more likely to land on the 11th than on the 4th or 5th.
A passenger beckoned the captain out of the cabin one evening about this
time, and asked him to look down into the hold, where a tallow candle,
with a long wick, was seen leaning over the side of a candlestick, which
was standing on a heap of loose cotton! Such are the perils that
careless sailors will expose themselves and others to. The captain took
care to impress his crew with his opinion on the matter.
I believe a regular piece of amusement on board these packet-ships is
emptying the letter-bags out on the deck. A fine morning is chosen for
this; and to a person who sits on the rail it affords a pretty picture.
The ladies draw their chairs round the immense heap of letters; the
gentlemen lie at length, and scarcely an epistle escapes comment. A
shout of mirth bursts forth now and then at some singular name or mode
of address; commonly at some Irish epistle, addressed to an emigrant in
some out-of-the-way place, which there is scarcely room to insert,
though the direction runs from corner to corner over the whole square.