most agreeable place in the United States for winter society. The great
deficiency in all our cities, the company of highly cultivated and
superior men, is here supplied. Female society, in any city or village,
is seldom wanting in interest or cultivation; for women refine and
elevate themselves with or without the advantages of metropolitan
intercourse. But the men of our cities, devoted usually to one
engrossing and depressing pursuit, have little time and less inclination
to form themselves for intellectual intercourse. The ordeal through
which a legislator must have come who finds himself at Washington,
however, implies force of character at least, and oftenest, high talent;
while the leaders and principal opposers of the ruling party, are, more
necessarily than in any other country, men of exalted abilities and
great experience of men and the world. The smaller lines which define
polished society in May Fair, and the Faubourg St. Germain, may be
wanting, but the stamen and spirit of high and cultivated intercourse,
such as may well please the most fastidious, is seen in all the society
in which the stranger would mingle during the session.
[Illustration]
VIEW OF BALTIMORE.
* * * * *
The hospitable and wealthy metropolis of Maryland owes its location to
the principle, that “second thoughts are best.” The two brothers of Lord
Baltimore, one of whom, Leonard Calvert, had been appointed governor of
the province, landed with his two hundred colonists on the north side of
the Potomac, and there founded the town of St. Mary’s, the intended
capital of Maryland. Little remains of St. Mary’s now, though it enjoyed
its prospective honours for several years; and, as the historian says,
“the worthy burghers cleared the adjacent lands, lived at peace with
their Indian neighbours, and dozed away life, amid their tobacco-fields,
with a comfortable and satisfactory sense of their own mark and
importance.” The principal event in its history, is an attack upon it by
a certain Captain Ingle, who, in the course of a rebellion, seized upon
the public records, and drove the governor over the Potomac into
Virginia.
The first settler within the limits of the present capital, was a Mr.
Gorsuch, who, twenty-eight years after the founding of St. Mary’s,
_patented_ some land on Whetstone Point, the present review-ground for
the Baltimore militia. Among the earliest who followed, was Charles
Carroll, of Carrollton, whose descendant and namesake signed the
Declaration of Independence. It is recorded that Charles and Daniel
Carroll sold the sixty most eligible acres in the town for forty
shillings an acre, which the commissioners paid for in tobacco, at a
penny a pound. It was then surrounded with a board-fence, with two gates
for carriages, and one for foot passengers; and “provision was made to
keep this notable rampart in repair.” Thus Baltimore grew and prospered,
till at this day it is one of the most enlightened and agreeable
capitals of the United States, the third in size, and with a population
rising eighty thousand. A humorous antiquarian gives the following
sketchy account of it in one of its phases.
“It was a treat to see this little Baltimore town just at the
termination of the war of Independence—so conceited, bustling, and
_débonair_—growing up like a saucy chubby boy, with his dumpling cheeks
and short grinning face, fat and mischievous, and bursting,
incontinently, out of his clothes in spite of all the allowance of tucks
and broad selvages. Market Street had shot, like a Nuremberg snake out
of its toy-box, as far as Congress Hall, with its line of low-browed,
hipped-roofed, wooden houses, in disorderly array, standing forward and
back, after the manner of a regiment of militia, with many an interval
between the files;—some of these structures were painted blue and
white, and some yellow; and here and there sprang up a more magnificent
mansion of brick, with windows like a multiplication table, and great
wastes of wall between the stories, with occasional court-yards before
them, and reverential locust-trees, under whose shade bevies of truant
school-boys, ragged little negroes, and grotesque chimney-sweeps, _shyed
coppers_, and disported themselves at marbles.
“This avenue was enlivened with apparitions of grave matrons and
stirring damsels, moving erect in stately transit, like the wooden and
pasteboard figures of a puppet-show; our present grandmothers, arrayed
in gorgeous brocade and taffeta, luxuriantly displayed over hoops, with
comely bodices, laced around that ancient piece of armour, the stay,
disclosing most perilous waists; and with sleeves that clung to the arm
as far as the elbow, where they took a graceful leave, in ruffles that
stood off like the feathers of a bantam. And such faces as they bore
along with them!—so rosy, so spirited, and sharp!—with the hair all
drawn back over a cushion, until it lifted the eyebrows, giving an
amazingly fierce and supercilious tone to the countenance, and falling
in cataracts upon the shoulders. Then they stepped away with such a
mincing gait, in shoes of many colours, with formidable points to the
toes, and high and tottering heels, fancifully cut in wood; their
tower-built hats garnished with tall feathers that waved
aristocratically backward at each step, as if they took a pride in the
slow paces of the wearer.
“In the train of these goodly groups came the beaux and gallants, who
upheld the chivalry of the age; cavaliers of the old school, full of
starch and powder, most of them the iron gentlemen of the revolution,
with leather faces—old campaigners, renowned for long stories, fresh
from the camp, with their military erectness and daredevil swagger;
proper roystering blades, who had just got out of the harness, and began
to affect the manners of civil life. Who but they!—jolly fellows,
fiery, and loud!—with stern glances of the eye, and a brisk turn of the
head, and a swashbuckler strut of defiance, like game cocks; all in
three-cornered hats and wigs, and light-coloured coats, with narrow
capes and marvellous long backs, with the pockets on each hip, and
small-clothes that hardly reached the knee; and striped stockings, with
great buckles in their shoes, and their long steel chains that hung
conceitedly, half way to the knee, with seals in the shape of a sounding
board to a pulpit. And they walked with such a stir, striking their
canes so hard upon the pavement, as to make the little town ring again.
I defy all modern coxcombry to produce any thing like it. There was such
a relish about it—and particularly when one of these weather-beaten
gallants accosted a lady in the street, with a bow that required a whole
side pavement to make it in, with the scrape of his foot, and his cane
thrust with a flourish under his left arm till it projected behind,
along with his cue, like the pallisades of a _chevaux-de-frize_; and
nothing could be more piquant than the lady, as she reciprocated the
salutation with a curtsey that seemed to carry her into the earth, with
her chin bridled to her breast—and such a volume of dignity!”
[Illustration]
VIEW OF THE EXCHANGE AND GIRARD’S BANK,
PHILADELPHIA.
* * * * *
The most accomplished architect of the United States, William
Strickland, Esq., is a citizen of Philadelphia; and to his excellent
taste is the city in a great measure indebted for its superiority over
the other capitals of our country in the architecture of public
buildings. The view seen in the drawing is taken from Third Street, in
the business-part of the city, and presents the rear of the Exchange, a
new structure by Mr. Strickland, and the façade of a much older
building, a chaste and beautiful specimen of the Corinthian order,
occupied many years by the United States Bank. It has since been
appropriated to the uses of a bank, of which the entire capital was
furnished by Stephen Girard, the wealthiest citizen of Philadelphia,
lately deceased. The Exchange (of which a minute description is given in
another part of the work) is a copy of the choragic monument at Athens,
commonly called the Lantern of Demosthenes.
Philadelphia is, and ever has been, fortunate in her citizens; and it
may be said with truth that there is not a metropolis in the world where
the effects of a liberal and enterprising public spirit are so clearly
manifest. This is particularly true of all that ministers to the comfort
of the inhabitant—such as excellence of markets, abundance of water,
cleanliness of streets, baths, public conveyances, &c. The wooden, or
block pavement, common in Russia, is now under experiment in the
principal street, and promises to add another to the luxuries of the
city; and among the later instances of liberal and refined taste, is the
purchase by the city of a beautiful estate on the banks of the
Schuylkill, and its appropriation to the purposes of a cemetery. It
occupies very high ground, of an uneven surface, plentifully shaded with
venerable trees, and is already, perhaps, the most lovely burial-place
in the world, after the Necropolis of Scutari.
Philadelphia is the favourite residence of foreigners among us; and
though, in all its features, unlike foreign capitals, it possesses more
than all other cities of the United States, the advantage of highly
educated and refined society. I speak here of that which is constant and
resident; as Washington, during the Session of Congress, and Boston,
during one or two of the hot months, become in turn the focus of the
foreign and floating society of the country. Perhaps the climate of
Philadelphia may have had its effect in making it the home of those
accustomed to the equable temperatures of the continent; for Boston,
nine months of the year, is uninhabitable from its acrid winds and
clammy cold; and Washington, on the other hand, is unhealthy during a
considerable part of the summer. New York, though the metropolis of the
country, is more a place of transit than residence, to those not engaged
in its business or commerce—a result partly of the unhealthfulness of
its water and the effluvia of its streets, but partly, too, of the
unsettled and shifting character of its society.
The commercial prospects of Philadelphia have brightened lately with the
success of Atlantic steam navigation. Hitherto the delay in getting up
the Delaware to a city so far from the sea, has made competition with
New York in the sailing-packet lines impossible; but with vessels
independent of winds and tides, the difficulty is obviated, and the
enterprise of her merchants is already at work—companies formed and
capital advanced for building steam-ships—and Philadelphia promises
fair to vie with New York as a grand commercial emporium. The vast
internal improvements of Pennsylvania, which have gone on nobly for the
last few years, will now have double value, and aptly meet the wants of
the new accession of trade.
It has always been a subject of regret that the noble design of William
Penn to extend a broad pier along the Delaware, the length of the city,
was never carried into effect: it is the one objection to the admirable
arrangement of Philadelphia. It is to be hoped that, in the new need for
wharf-room, the liberal spirit of the merchants will remember the wish
of the great founder, and remove the unsightly edifices which now crowd
into the river. With a man like Mr. Biddle in the municipality, no good
or great change need be despaired of.
[Illustration]
VIEW OF THE PRINCIPAL FRONT OF THE
CAPITOL AT WASHINGTON.
* * * * *
The Capitol presents a very noble appearance, as the spectator advances
to it in the point of view taken by the artist; and from what is shown
of the proportions and size of the building, a very imposing effect is
produced. Its height, the ascending terraces, the monument and its
fountain, the grand balustrade of freestone which protects the offices
below, and the distinct object which it forms, standing alone on its
lofty site, combine to make up the impression of grandeur, in which its
architectural defects are lost or forgotten.
The waste lands which lie at the foot of Capitol Hill might be marshes
in the centre of a wilderness for any trace of cultivation about them;
but they are appropriated for a botanical garden, when Congress shall
find time to order its arrangement and cultivation. This, however, and
other features of desolation which belong to so thinly settled a
metropolis, are said, by the defenders of Washington’s foresight, to
answer one of his chief ends, in the location of the Capitol far from
any commercial centre—that to prevent intimidation or interference from
the people, the legislative capital should be thinly peopled, and in the
power exclusively of the legislators themselves. The district of
Columbia, accordingly, which was presented and set apart to the General
Congress, by the different states, has a sort of civic government, of
which the President of the United States held, in the first instance,
the office of Mayor, and by its distance from the sea, and the natural
independence of its position, it is impossible it should ever become a
commercial or a thickly populated mart.
In a little volume written by a descendant of Washington, an account is
given of the first survey of the Potomac, by the great patriot, with
reference to the navigation above tide-water.
“The canoe, or pirogue,” says the author, “in which General Washington
and a party of friends first made the survey of the Potomac, was
hollowed out of a large poplar tree, on the estate of Colonel Johnson,
of Frederick county, Maryland. This humble bark was placed upon a
waggon, hauled to the margin of the Monocacy river, launched into the
stream, and there received its honoured freight. The General was
accompanied by Governor Johnson, one of the first commissioners for the
location of the city of Washington, and several other gentlemen. At
nightfall, it was usual for the party to land and seek quarters of some
of the planters, or farmers, who lived near the banks of the river, in
all the pride and comfort of old-fashioned kindliness and hospitality.
Putting up for a night at a respectable farmer’s, the General and the
two Johnsons were shown into a room, having but two beds. ‘Come,
gentlemen!’ said Washington, ‘who will be my bedfellow?’ Both declined.
Colonel Johnson often afterwards declared, that greatly as he should
have felt honoured by such intimacy, the awe and reverence with which
the chief had—inspired him, even in their daily and unreserved
intercourse, would have made the liberty seem little short of
profanation.
“While the party were exploring in the vicinity of Harper’s Ferry, news
arrived of the burning at the stake of Colonel Crawford, by the Indians
at Sandusky. Washington became excited to tears at hearing the recital,
for Crawford had been one of the companions of his early life, and had
often been his rival in athletic exercises. The unfortunate man was
brave as a lion, and had served with great distinction in the war of the
revolution. Tears soon gave way to indignation, and Washington, pointing
to a lofty rock which juts over the stream, at its remarkable passage
through the mountain, exclaimed, with a voice tremulous from feeling,
‘By Heaven, were I the sole judge of these Indians, it would be slight
retaliation to hurl every spectator of his death from that height into
the abyss.’”
To the reader who venerates the name of the great Patriot, no anecdote,
however trifling, told in connexion with the monuments of his greatness,
can be unappropriate or uninteresting.
[Illustration]
THE NARROWS, LAKE GEORGE.
* * * * *
Between some of its beautiful islands, and between the islands and the
main, Lake George assumes the character of calm river scenery. From the
undisturbed state of the vegetation on the shore, however, and the
absence of the deposit left by the freshets, to which running streams
are liable, the scenery is lovelier than that of most rivers, and
differs from them, as the shores of the tideless Mediterranean differ
from those of the disturbed Atlantic. There is scarce one of these
beautiful islands that has not some association or legend of interest,
and this story is recorded of Diamond Island, the one most visited and
admired:—A party of pleasure had been visiting the island on a little
sailing excursion, and having lingered longer upon that beautiful spot
than they were conscious of, as night drew on, concluded to encamp for
the night,—it being already too late to return to the fort. “From the
shore where we lay hid,” said Cane, “it was easy to watch their motions;
and perceiving their defenceless situation, as soon as it was dark we
set off for the island, where we found them asleep by their fire, and
discharged our guns among them. Several were killed, among whom was one
woman, who had a sucking child, which was not hurt. This we put to the
breast of its dead mother, and so we left it. But Major Hopkins was only
wounded, his thigh-bone being broken; he started from his sleep to a
rising posture, when I struck him,” said Barney Cane, “with the butt of
my gun, on the side of his head; he fell over, but caught on one hand; I
then knocked him the other way, when he caught with the other hand; a
third blow, and I laid him dead. These were all scalped except the
infant. In the morning, a party from the fort went and brought away the
dead, together with one they found alive, although he was scalped, and
the babe, which was hanging and sobbing at the bosom of its lifeless
mother.”
Even this tale of barbarity to a mother, yields in horror to the
sufferings of Massy Harbisson, from whose journal of captivity, take for
example the following passages;—“The Indians, when they had flogged me
away along with them, took my oldest boy, a lad of about five years of
age, along with them, for he was still at the door by my side. My middle
little boy, who was about three years of age, had by this time obtained
a situation by the fire in the house, and was crying bitterly to me not
to go, and making bitter complaints of the depredations of the savages.
“But these monsters were not willing to let the child remain behind
them; they took him by the hand to drag him along with them, but he was
so very unwilling to go, and made such a noise by crying, that they took
him up by the feet, and dashed his brains out against the threshold of
the door. They then scalped and stabbed him, and left him for dead. When
I witnessed this inhuman butchery of my own child, I gave a most
indescribable and terrific scream, and felt a dimness come over my eyes
next to blindness, and my senses were nearly gone. The savage then gave
me a blow across my head and face, and brought me to my sight and
recollection again. During the whole of this agonizing scene, I kept my
infant in my arms.
“As soon as their murder was effected, they marched me along to the top
of the bank, about forty or sixty rods, and there they stopped and
divided the plunder they had taken from our house; and here I counted
their number, and found them to be thirty-two, two of whom were white
men, painted as Indians.
“Here I beheld another hard scene, for as soon as we had landed, my
little boy, who was still mourning and lamenting about his little
brother, and who complained that he was injured by the fall in
descending the bank, _was murdered_.
“One of the Indians ordered me along, probably that I should not see the
horrid deed about to be perpetrated. The other then took his tomahawk
from his side, and with this instrument of death _killed and scalped
him_. When I beheld this second scene of inhuman butchery, I fell to the
ground senseless, with my infant in my arms, it being under, and its
little hands in the hair of my head. How long I remained in this state
of insensibility, I know not.
“The first thing I remember was my raising my head from the ground, and
my feeling myself exceedingly overcome with sleep. I cast my eyes
around, and saw the scalp of my dear little boy, fresh bleeding from his
head, in the hand of one of the savages, and sunk down to the earth
again, upon my infant child. The first thing I remember after witnessing
this spectacle of woe, was the severe blows I was receiving from the
hands of the savages, though at this time I was unconscious of the
injury I was sustaining. After a severe castigation, they assisted me in
getting up, and supported me when up.
“In the morning one of them left us, to watch the trail or path we had
come, to see if any white people were pursuing us. During the absence of
the Indian, who was the one that claimed me, the other, who remained
with me, and who was the murderer of my last boy, took from his bosom
his scalp, and prepared a hoop, and stretched the scalp upon it. Those
mothers who have not seen the like done by one of the scalps of their
own children, (and few, if any, ever had so much misery to endure,) will
be able to form but faint ideas of the feelings which then harrowed up
my soul!”
[Illustration]
THE NATURAL BRIDGE, VIRGINIA.
* * * * *
The description of Jefferson first attracted the attention of travellers
to this remarkable spot, unequalled probably in the world. Of recent
descriptions the best is that by Miss Martineau, which is so
characteristic and interesting, that we can add nothing to it.
“At a mile from the bridge, the road turns off through a wood. While the
stage rolled and jolted along the extremely bad road, Mr. L—— and I
went prying about the whole area of the wood, poking our horses’ noses
into every thicket, and between any two pieces of rock, that we might be
sure not to miss our object; the driver smiling after us, whenever he
could spare attention from his own not very easy task, of getting his
charge along. With all my attention, I could see no precipice, and was
concluding to follow the road without any more vagaries, when Mr. L——,
who was a little in advance, waived his whip, as he stood beside his
horse, and said, ‘Here is the bridge!’ I then perceived that we were
nearly over it, the piled rocks on either hand forming a barrier, which
prevents a careless eye from perceiving the ravine which it spans. I
turned to the side of the road, and rose in my stirrup to look over; but
I found it would not do. I went on to the inn, deposited my horses and
returned on foot to the bridge.
“With all my efforts, I could not look down steadily into what seemed
the bottomless abyss of foliage and shadow. From every point of the
bridge I tried, and all in vain. I was heated and extremely hungry, and
much vexed at my own weakness. The only way was to go down and look up;
though where the bottom could be, was past my imagining, the view from
the top seeming to be of foliage below foliage for ever.
“The way to the glen is through a field opposite the inn, and down a
steep, rough, rocky path, which leads under the bridge, and a few yards
beyond it. I think the finest view of all is from this path, just before
reaching the bridge. The irregular arch of rock, spanning a chasm of one
hundred and sixty feet in height, and from sixty to ninety in width, is
exquisitely tinted with every shade of grey and brown; while trees
encroach from the sides, and overhang from the top; between which and
the arch there is an additional depth of fifty-six feet. It was now
early in July; the trees were in their brightest and thickest foliage;
and the tall beeches under the arch contrasted their verdure with the
grey rock, and received the gilding of the sunshine, as it slanted into
the ravine, glittering in the drip from the arch, and in the splashing
and tumbling waters of Cedar Creek, which ran by our feet. Swallows were
flying about under the arch. What others of their tribe can boast of
such a home?