appeared on deck with his wares. His pretence was, that some of his silk
handkerchiefs and gloves had got slightly spotted at sea, and that he
was not so anxious as before to carry them to New-York. However this
might be, the merchant showed himself a shrewd man. He saw that the
pleasure of shopping, after being for some weeks out of sight of land,
would open to him the purse of many a passenger. It was most amusing to
see the eagerness of both gentlemen and ladies, and their pleasure in
purchases which they would have disdained on shore. For the next two or
three days the company was spruce in damaged handkerchiefs, and ribands,
and mildewed gloves, rending in all directions; while the pedler escaped
duties, and stepped ashore with a heavy purse and light pack.
On the 15th we were still between five and six hundred miles from our
port. A sheep had jumped overboard, and so cheated us of some of our
mutton. The vegetables were getting very dry. It was found best not to
look into the dishes of dried fruits which formed our dessert. All was
done that care and cookery could do; but who could have anticipated such
a length of voyage? Open declarations of _ennui_ began to be made by not
a few; and I was almost afraid to own, in answer to questions, that I
was not tired of the sea; but I could not honestly say that I was. The
gentlemen began to spar at table about the comparative merits of England
and America; the Prussian could not find English in which to bemoan
himself sufficiently, and shrugged. The cider, ale, soda-water, and
claret were all gone, and we were taking to porter, which must needs
soon come to an end. Some show of preparation to land was this day made,
and a lively bustle ensued on the first hint from the captain. He went
round to take down the names of the passengers at length, in order to
their being reported on arrival. The ages had to be affixed to the
names; and as the captain could not ask the ladies for their ages, he
committed it to the gentlemen to decide upon each. The ladies, who were
quilling, trimming, and sorting their things in their own cabin, could
not conceive the meaning of the shouts of laughter which came from the
top of the gentlemen's table, till the young Carolinian came and told
what the fun was. The standing joke is to make the young ladies many
years too old, and the old ladies ridiculously young; and this was done
now, the ladies considering the affair no business of theirs. One lady,
who had frequently crossed, told me that ten years before she had been
set down as forty; she stood now as twenty-four.
On the 17th we were surrounded with weed, and Mother Carey's chickens
began to disappear. Soundings were this day taken, and I was called to
see and touch the first American soil, the thimbleful deposited on the
lead. The next day, Thursday, the wind continuing fair, we were within
one hundred miles of our port, and all was liveliness and bustle.
The American divine was requested by all the passengers to propose,
after dinner, the health of Captain and Mrs. Holdrege, using the
opportunity to express our hearty thanks to the captain for the whole of
his conduct towards us. The captain rose to speak in acknowledgment of
the toast, but was so taken by surprise with his lady's name being
hailed with our good wishes, that after two words of thanks he shot out
of the cabin, every one understanding the cause of his brevity. In the
evening we were told that we should see land on rising in the morning;
and some of us requested to be called at five.
At five, on the morning of the 19th, I started up, and at the foot of
the companion-way was stopped by the Scotch lady, who told me I might go
back again, as we were becalmed, and I might see the shore just as well
two hours hence. This was being a little too cool about such a matter. I
saw the dim shore; a long line of the New-Jersey coast, with
distinguishable trees and white houses. By breakfast-time our eyes were
painfully strained, as only one could have the glass at a time, and I
did not like to snatch it from those who were enjoying the pleasure of
recognising familiar objects; tracing the first features of home. I was
taken by surprise by my own emotions. All that I had heard of the
Pilgrim Fathers, of the old colonial days, of the great men of the
Revolution, and of the busy, prosperous succeeding days, stirred up my
mind while I looked upon the sunny reach of land on the horizon. All the
morning I sat dreaming, interrupted now and then by the smiling but
tearful young mother, who expected tidings of her child before the day
was over; or by others, who had less cause for being deeply moved, who
came to describe to me the pleasures of Long Branch (the bathing-place
in view), or to speculate on how long this tedious calm would last. All
the morning I sat on the rail, or played sister Anne to the ladies
below, when once the wind had freshened, and we glided slowly along
towards Sandy Hook. "Now I see a large white house." "Now I see
Neversink. Come up and see Neversink!" "Now I see a flock of sheep on
the side of a hill; and now a fisherman standing beside his boat," and
so forth.
What were the ladies below for? They were dressing for the shore. The
gentlemen, too, vanished from the deck, one by one, and reappeared in
glossy hats, coats with the creases of the portmanteau upon them, and
the first really black shoes and boots we had seen for weeks. The
quizzing which was properly due to the discarded sea-garments was now
bestowed on this spruce costume; and every gentleman had to encounter a
laugh as he issued from the companion-way. We agreed to snatch our meals
as we pleased this day. No one was to remain at table longer than he
liked. Everything looked joyous. The passengers were in the most amiable
mood: we were in sight of a score of ships crossing the bar at Sandy
Hook; the last company of porpoises was sporting alongside, and shoals
of glittering white fish rippled the water. The captain was fidgety,
however. Those vessels crossing the bar might be rival packet-ships, and
no pilot was yet to be seen. "Here he is!" cried a dozen voices at once;
and an elegant little affair of a boat was seen approaching. A
curious-looking old gentleman swung himself up, and seemed likely to be
torn in pieces by the ravenous inquirers for news. He thrust an armful
of newspapers among us, and beckoned the captain to the stern, where the
two remained in a grave consultation for a few minutes, when the captain
called one of the lady passengers aside to ask her a question. What the
pilot wanted to know was, whether George Thomson, the abolition
missionary, was on board. He was to have been, but was not. The pilot
declared that this was well, as he could not have been landed without
the certainty of being destroyed within a week, the abolition riots in
New-York having taken place just before. What the captain wanted to
learn of the lady passenger was, what my opinions on slavery were, in
order to know whether he might safely land me. She told him that I was
an abolitionist in principle; but that she believed I went to America to
learn and not to teach. So the good captain nodded, and said nothing to
me on the subject.
Next arrived a boat from the newspaper office of the Courier and
Enquirer, whose agent would not hear of dinner or any other delay, but
shouldered his bag of news, got the list of our names, and was off. The
American passengers, all by this time good friends of mine, came to show
me, with much mirth, paragraphs in the newspapers the pilot had brought,
exhorting their readers not to chew tobacco or praise themselves in my
presence, under penalty of being reported of in London for these
national foibles.
After dinner we were off Sandy Hook, and the hills of New-Jersey, Long
Island, and Staten Island were growing purple in the cloudy sunset, when
a small shabby steamboat was seen emerging from the Narrows. Oh, the
speculations and breathless suspense as to whether she was coming to us!
In a few minutes there remained no further doubt. Then there was a rush
to the side, and one of the young ladies saw through her tears her two
brothers, and other passengers other relations showing themselves on the
bows of the steamer. They presently boarded us, we strangers having all
retired to the other side. I never liked introductions better than those
which followed. With broad smiles my passenger friends came up, saying,
"I have the great pleasure of introducing to you my brother." "I am sure
you will be glad to hear that my family are all well." These are
occasions when sympathy is very sweet, and when it is always ready.
Then was heard the captain's loudest voice, crying, "All who wish to go
up to the city to-night get ready directly." We had all previously
agreed how much better it was that we should spend this night on board,
as the harbour would be seen to much more advantage by the morning
light; but we forgot all this in a moment, and nobody dreamed of being
left behind. Our little bundles were made up in a trice, and we left our
ship. The crew and steerage passengers assembled on deck, and gave us
three parting cheers, which might be heard all over the harbour. Our
gentlemen returned them, and our hearts yearned towards our beautiful
ship, as she sat dark upon the evening waters, with all her sails
majestically spread. "Does she not look well now?" "Does she not show
herself beautifully now?" exclaimed one and another, in the hearing of
the gratified captain.
The light was failing as we entered the Narrows. The captain and several
other friends pointed out to me every headland, bay, and fortification
as we passed. We were detained a long while at the quarantine ground.
The doctor was three miles off, and nearly an hour elapsed before the
great news reached him that we were all quite well, and we were
therefore allowed to proceed. It now rained heavily, and we were obliged
to crowd into the small cabin of the poorest steamer in the bay. There,
by the light of one dim and dirty lamp, was the question first asked me,
in joke, which has since been repeated in so many moods, "How do you
like America?" The weather cleared up in another half hour. We stood in
the dark on the wet deck, watching the yellow lights and shadowy
buildings of the shore we were rapidly nearing, till we felt the
expected shock, and jumped upon the wharf amid the warm welcomes of many
friends, who, in their own joy at alighting on their native shore, did
not forget to make it at once a home to us strangers.
This was at eight in the evening of the 19th of September, 1834, after a
long but agreeable voyage of forty-two days.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
"Navigia, atque agri culturas, mœnia, leges
Arma, vias, vesteis, et cætera de genere horum
Præmia, delicias quoque vitæ funditus omneis,
Carmina, picturas, ac dædala signa, politus
Usus, et impigræ simul experientia mentis,
Paullatim docuit pedetentim progredienteis."
_Lucretius_, lib. v.
The moment of first landing in a foreign city is commonly spoken of as a
perfect realization of forlornness. My entrance upon American life was
anything but this. The spirits of my companions and myself were in a
holyday dance while we were receiving our first impressions; and
New-York always afterward bore an air of gayety to me from the
association of the early pleasures of foreign travel.
Apartments had been secured for us at a boarding-house in Broadway, and
a hackney-coach was in waiting at the wharf. The moonlight was
flickering through the trees of the Battery, the insects were buzzing
all about us, the catydids were grinding, and all the sounds, except
human voices, were quite unlike all we had heard for six weeks. One of
my companions took the sound of the catydid for a noise in her head for
many hours after coming into their neighbourhood. As we rattled over the
stones, I was surprised to find that the street we were in was Broadway;
the lower and narrower end, however; but nothing that I saw, after all I
had heard, and the panorama of New-York that I had visited in London,
disappointed me so much as Broadway. Its length is remarkable, but
neither its width nor the style of its houses. The trees with which it
is lined gave it, this first evening, a foreign air.
Our hostess at the boarding-house shook hands with us, and ordered tea.
While we were waiting for it, and within ten minutes after I had crossed
the first American threshold, three gentlemen introduced themselves to
me, one of whom was the melancholy politician whom I have mentioned
elsewhere[1] as having forewarned me of the total overthrow of the
United States' institutions which would certainly take place while I was
in the country. This gentleman afterward became a dear and intimate
friend; and we found that politics are, perhaps, the only subject on
which we entertain irreconcilable differences of opinion. We often
amused ourselves with recurring to this our first meeting. This
gentleman afforded me an early specimen of the humour which I think one
of the chief characteristics of the Americans. In the few minutes during
which we were waiting for tea, he dropped some drolleries so new to me,
and so intense, that I was perplexed what to do with my laughter.
Footnote 1: Society in America, vol. i., p. 10.
While we were at tea a few gentlemen dropped in, and read the newspapers
at the long table at which we were seated. One fixed my attention at
once. He had the carriage of a soldier, with an uncommonly fine
countenance, bearing a general resemblance to the great men of the
Revolution with whose portraits the English are most familiar. I think
it is not a mere fancy that there is an air common to Washington,
Jefferson, and Madison. This gentleman reminded me of them all; and the
quietness with which he made his remarks, and his evident high breeding,
piqued the curiosity of a stranger. He was General Mason, the father of
the young governor of Michigan; and the most eminent citizen of
Detroit. From time to time, in my travels, I met various members of his
family, whose kindness always made me thankful that accident had placed
me in the same house with them at the outset.
In our rooms we found beds with four posts, looking as if meant to hang
gowns and bonnets upon; for there was no tester. The washstand was
without tumbler, glass, soap, or brush-tray. The candlestick had no
snuffers. There was, however, the luxury, sufficient for the occasion,
that every article of furniture stood still in its place, and that the
apartment itself did not rock up and down. The first few days after a
voyage go far towards making one believe that some things have a quality
of stability, however one may be metaphysically convinced that the sea
affords a far truer hint of the incessant flux and change which are the
law of the universe. If I had rejoiced in the emblem at sea, I now
enjoyed the deception on land.
At five in the morning I threw up my sash to see what I could see. I
cannot conceive what travellers mean by saying that there is little that
is foreign in the aspect of New-York. I beheld nothing at this moment
that I could have seen at home, except the sky and the grass of the
courtyard. The houses were all neatly and brightly painted, had green
outside blinds to every window, and an apparatus for drying linen on the
roof. A young lady in black silk, with her hair neatly dressed, was
mopping the steps of one house, and a similar young lady was dusting the
parlour of another. A large locust-tree grew in the middle of the
courtyard of the house I was in, and under it was a truly American
woodpile. Two negroes were at the pump, and a third was carrying
muskmelons.
When the breakfast-bell rang the long and cross tables in the
eating-room were filled in five minutes. The cross table, at which our
hostess presided, was occupied by General Mason's family, a party of
Spaniards, and ourselves. The long one was filled up with families
returning southward from the springs; married persons without children,
who preferred boarding to housekeeping; and single gentlemen, chiefly
merchants. I found this mode of living rather formidable the first day;
and not all the good manners that I saw at public tables ever reconciled
me to it.
From a trunk belonging to a lady of our party having been put on board
a wrong ship, we had some immediate shopping to do, and to find a
mantuamaker. We suspected we should soon be detained at home by callers,
and therefore determined to transact our business at once, though our
luggage had not arrived from the custom-house, and we were not "dressed
for Broadway," as the phrase is.
In the streets I was in danger of being run down by the fire-engines, so
busy were my eyes with the novelties about me. These fire-engines run
along the side-pavement, stopping for nobody; and I scarcely ever walked
out in New-York without seeing one or more out on business, or for an
airing. The novelties which amused me were the spruce appearance of all
the people; the pervading neatness and brightness, and the business-like
air of the children. The carmen were all well dressed, and even two poor
boys who were selling matches had clean shirt-collars and whole coats,
though they were barefooted. The stocks of goods seemed large and
handsome, and we were less struck with the indifference of manner
commonly ascribed to American storekeepers than frequently afterward.
The most unpleasant circumstance was the appearance and manner of the
ladies whom we saw in the streets and stores. It was now the end of a
very hot summer, and every lady we met looked as if she were emerging
from the yellow fever; and the languid and unsteady step betokened the
reverse of health.
The heat was somewhat oppressive. We were in the warm dresses we had put
on while yet at sea, as our trunks had not made their appearance. Trains
of callers came in the afternoon and evening; members of Congress,
candidates for state offices, fellow-passengers and their friends, and
other friends of our friends; and still we were not "dressed for
Broadway." In the evening the luggage of my companions was brought up,
but not mine. Special orders had been issued from the custom-house that
my baggage should pass without examination; and it was therefore at this
moment on board ship. To-night it was too late; next morning it was
Sunday, and everything in the hold was under lock and key, and
unattainable till Monday. There seemed no hope of my getting out all
day, and I was really vexed. I wanted to see the churches, and hear the
preaching, and be doing what others were doing; but the heat was plainly
too great to be encountered in any gown but a muslin one. A lady
boarding in the house happened to hear of the case, and sent her
servant to say that she believed her dresses would fit me, and that she
should be happy to supply me with a gown and bonnet till my trunks
should arrive. I accepted her kind offer without any scruple, feeling
that a service like this was just what I should wish to render to any
lady under the same circumstances; so I went to church equipped in a
morning-gown and second-best bonnet of this neighbourly lady's.
The church that we went to was the Unitarian church in Chamber-street.
Its regular pastor was absent, and a professional brother from
Philadelphia preached. We were most deeply impressed by the devotional
part of his service, delivered in a voice which I have certainly never
heard equalled for music and volume. His discourse moved us no less. We
looked at one another in much delight. I warned my companion not to be
too certain that this preaching was all we then felt it to be; we had
been six Sundays at sea, and some of the impression might be owing to
this being the renewal of the privilege of social worship in a church. I
heard much of the same preaching afterward, however; and I am now of the
same opinion that I was this first day; that it is the most true,
simple, and solemn that I ever listened to. The moment the service was
over the minister came down from the pulpit, addressed me as an old
friend, and requested me to accept the hospitality of his house when I
should visit Philadelphia. Under the emotions of the hour it was
impossible to help giving a glad assent; and in his house I afterward
enjoyed many weeks of an intercourse as intimate as can ever exist
between members of the same family. We kept up the most rapid and
copious correspondence the whole time I was in America, and he and his
wife were my American brother and sister, the depositaries of all those
"impressions" on the mind of a stranger about which American society is
so anxious.
General Mason introduced me to Governor Cass, then secretary-at-war, now
ambassador at Paris. Governor Cass is a shrewd, hard-looking man, the
very concentration of American caution. He is an accomplished and an
honest man; but his dread of committing himself renders both his solid
and ornamental good qualities of less value to society than they should
be. The state of Michigan, which is under great obligations to him, is
proud of her citizen; and it is agreed, I believe, on all hands, that
his appointment is more satisfactory and honourable to his country than
that of many who have been sent as ministers to foreign courts.
I feel some doubt about giving any account of the public men of the
United States; I do not mean scruples of conscience; for when a man
comes forward in political or other kind of public life, he makes a
present of himself to society at large, and his person, mind, and
manners become a legitimate subject of observation and remark. My doubts
arise from the want of interest in the English about the great men of
America; a want of interest which arises from no fault in either party,
I believe, but from the baseness of the newspapers, whose revilings of
all persons in turn who fill a public station are so disgusting as to
discourage curiosity, and set all friendly interest at defiance. The
names of the English political leaders of the day are almost as familiar
in the mouths of Americans as of natives, while people in London are
asking who Mr. Clay is, and what part of the Union Mr. Calhoun comes
from. The deeds of Mr. Clay and the aspirations of Mr. Calhoun would be
at least as interesting in London as the proceedings of French and
German statesmen, if they could be fairly placed under observation; but
every man of feeling and taste recoils from wading through such a slough
of rancour, folly, and falsehood as the American newspapers present as
the only medium through which the object is to be attained.
Mr. Gallatin's name is, however, everywhere known and welcome. Mr.
Gallatin did me the honour of calling on me in New-York, having heard
that I desired to learn the precise grounds of the quarrel which was
agitating the country about the bank. I was delighted to listen to his
full and luminous report of the question, and of many other matters, on
which he spoke with a freedom and courtesy which would go far towards
making the current of human affairs run smooth, if they were but
general. He told me something of the early part of his career, which
began in 1787; described his three visits to England, and sketched the
character of the reigns of our last two kings, of Louis Philippe, and of
President Jackson. He entered upon the philosophy of the presidentship;
exhibited the spirit of the three great divisions of the United States,
the north, south, and west; explained the principles on which the
letting of land proceeds; described the Germans and other agricultural
population of the country, and showed the process by which the
aristocratic class rises and is replenished in a democratic republic.
While he was talking I felt as if he was furnishing me with new powers
of observation; and when he was gone I hastened to secure what he had
told me, lest its novelty and abundance should deceive my memory. I
believe Mr. Gallatin was at this time seventy-two; but he did not appear
so old. He is tall, and looks dignified and courteous. He is a native of
Switzerland, and speaks with a very slight foreign accent, but with a
flow and liveliness which are delightful.
I was assured at the outset that the late abolition riots in New-York
were the work of the Irish emigrants, who feared the increase of a free
black population as likely to interfere with their monopoly of certain
kinds of labour. This I afterward found to be untrue. Some Irish may
have joined in "the row," but the mischief originated with natives. It
is remarkable that I heard no more of abolition for many weeks; I think
not till I was about leaving Philadelphia.