Part 1

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JOURNAL OF A RESIDENCE IN AMERICA.

by

FRANCES ANNE BUTLER

(MISS FANNY KEMBLE).

In One Volume.

Paris, Published by A. and W. Galignani and Co, Rue Vivienne, No 18.

1835.

PREFACE.

A preface appears to me necessary to this book, in order that the expectation with which the English reader might open it should not be disappointed.

Some curiosity has of late been excited in England with regard to America: its political existence is a momentous experiment, upon which many eyes are fixed, in anxious watching of the result; and such accounts as have been published of the customs and manners of its societies, and the natural wonders and beauties of its scenery, have been received and read with considerable interest in Europe. This being the case, I should be loth to present these volumes to the English public without disclaiming both the intention and the capability of adding the slightest detail of any interest to those which other travellers have already furnished upon these subjects.

This book is, what it professes to be, my personal journal, and not a history or a description of men and manners in the United States.

Engaged in an arduous profession, and travelling from city to city in its exercise, my leisure and my opportunities would have been alike inadequate to such a task. The portion of America which I have visited has been a very small one, and, I imagine, by no means that from which the most interesting details are to be drawn. I have been neither to the south nor to the west; consequently have had no opportunity of seeing two large portions of the population of this country,--the enterprising explorers of the late wildernesses on the shores of the Mississippi,--and the black race of the slave slates,--both classes of men presenting peculiarities of infinite interest to the traveller: the one, a source of energy and growing strength, the other, of disease and decay, in this vast political body.

My sphere of observation has been confined to the Atlantic cities, whose astonishing mercantile prosperity, and motley mongrel societies, though curious under many aspects, are interesting but under few.

What I registered were my immediate impressions of what I saw and heard; of course, liable to all the errors attendant upon first perceptions, and want of time and occasion for maturer investigation. The notes I have added while preparing the text for the press; and such opinions and details as they contain are the result of a longer residence in this country, and a somewhat better acquaintance with the people of it.

Written, as my journal was, day by day, and often after the fatigues of a laborious evening's duty at the theatre, it has infinite sins of carelessness to answer for; and but that it would have taken less time and trouble to re-write the whole book, or rather write a better, I would have endeavoured to correct them,--though, indeed, I was something of Alfieri's mind about it:--"Quanto poi allo stile, io penso di lasciar fare alla penna, e di pochissimo lasciarlo scostarsi da quella triviale e spontanea naturalezza, con cui ho scritto quest' opera, dettata dal cuore e non dall' ingegno; e che sola puo convenire a così umile tema."

However, my purpose is not to write an apology for my book, or its defects, but simply to warn the English reader, before he is betrayed into its perusal, that it is a purely egotistical record, and by no means a history of America.

JOURNAL.

_Wednesday, August 1st, 1832._

Another break in my journal, and here I am on board the Pacific, bound for America, having left home and all the world behind.--Well!

* * * * *

We reached the quay just as the ship was being pulled, and pushed, and levered to the entrance of the dock;--the quays were lined with people; among them were several known faces,--Mr. ----, Mr. ----. M---- came on board to take my letters, and bid me good-by.

* * * * *

I had a bunch of carnations in my hand, which I had snatched from our drawing-room chimney;--English flowers! dear English flowers! they will be withered long before I again see land; but I will keep them until I once more stand upon the soil on which they grew.

* * * * *

The sky had become clouded, and the wind blew cold.

* * * * *

Came down and put our narrow room to rights.

* * * * *

Worked at my Bible-cover till dinner-time. We dined at half-past three.--The table was excellent--cold dinner, because it was the first day--but every thing was good; and champagne, and dessert, and every luxury imaginable, rendered it as little like a ship-dinner as might be. The man who sat by me was an American; very good-natured, and talkative. Our passengers are all men, with the exception of three; a nice pretty-looking girl, who is going out with her brother; a fat old woman, and a fat young one. I cried almost the whole of dinner-time.

* * * * *

After dinner the ladies adjourned to their own cabin, and the gentlemen began to debate about regulating the meal hours. They adopted the debating society tone, called my poor dear father to the chair, and presently I heard, oh horror! (what I had not thought to hear again for six weeks) the clapping of hands. They sent him in to consult us about the dinner-hour: and we having decided four o'clock, the debate continued with considerable merriment. Presently my father, Colonel ----, and Mr. ----, came into our cabin:--the former read us Washington Irving's speech at the New-York dinner. Some of it is very beautiful; all of it is in good feeling--it made me cry. Oh my home, my land, England, glorious little England! from which this bragging big baby was born, how my heart yearns towards your earth! I sat working till the gentlemen left us, and then wrote journal.

* * * * *

I am weary and sad, and will try to go and sleep.--It rains: I cannot see the moon.

_Thursday, 2d._

It rained all night, and in the morning the wind had died away, and we lay rocking, becalmed on the waveless waters. At eight o'clock they brought me some breakfast, after which I got up; while dressing, I could not help being amused at hearing the cocks crowing, and the cow lowing, and geese and ducks gabbling, as though we were in the midst of a farm-yard. At half-past ten, having finished my toilet, I emerged; and Miss ---- and I walked upon deck. The sea lay still, and grey, without ridge or sparkle, a sheet of lead; the sky was of the same dull colour. The deck was wet and comfortless. We were but just off Holyhead: two or three ships stood against the horizon, still as ourselves. The whole was melancholy:--and, sadder than all, sat a poor woman, dressed in mourning, in a corner of the deck; she was a steerage passenger, and I never saw so much sorrow in any face. Poor thing! poor thing! was her heart aching for home, and kindred left behind her? It made mine ach to look at her. We walked up and down for an hour. I like my companion well; she is a nice young quiet thing, just come from a country home. Came down, and began getting out books for my German lesson, but, turning rather awful, left my learning on the floor, and betook myself to my berth. Slept nearly till dinner-time. At dinner I took my place at table, but presently the misery returned; and getting up, while I had sufficient steadiness left to walk becomingly down the room, I came to my cabin; my dinner followed me thither, and, lying on my back, I very comfortably discussed it. Got up, devoured some raspberry-tart and grapes, and, being altogether delightful again, sat working and singing till tea-time: after which, wrote journal, and now to bed. How strange it seems to hear these Americans speaking in English of _the English_!--"Oh, hame, hame, hame wad I be,"--but it is not time to sing that yet.

_Friday, 3d._

Breakfasted at eight; got up, and dressed, and came upon deck. The day was lovely, the sea one deep dark sapphire, the sky bright and cloudless, the wind mild and soft, too mild to fill our sails, which hung lazily against the masts,--but enough to refresh the warm summer's sky, and temper the bright sun of August that shone above us. Walked upon deck with Miss ---- and Captain Whaite: the latter is a very intelligent good-natured person; rough and bluff, and only seven-and-twenty; which makes his having the command of a ship rather an awful consideration. At half-past eleven got my German, and worked at it till half-past one, then got my work; and presently we were summoned on deck by sound of bell, and oyes! oyes! oyes!--and a society was established for the good demeanour and sociability of the passengers. My father was in the chair. Mr. ---- was voted secretary, Dr. ---- attorney-general; a badge was established, rules and regulations laid down, a code framed, and much laughing and merriment thence ensued. Worked till dinner-time. After dinner, went on deck, took a brisk walk for half an hour with Captain Whaite. Established myself to work, and presently we were all summoned to attend a mock trial of Colonel ----, which made us all laugh most exceedingly. We adopted titles--I chose my family appellation of Puddledock: many of the names were very absurd, and as a penalty ensued upon not giving every body their proper designation, much amusement arose from it. When the trial was over, we played at dumb crambo, and earth, air, and water, with infinite zeal, till tea-time. After tea, we were summoned on deck to see the ship make a tack. The wind was against us, the sea inky black, the pale clear moon stood high against the sail--presently, with a whooping and yaw-awling that mocks description, the fair ship was turned away from the wind, the sails veered round, and she set in another course. We remained on deck, the gentlemen gathered round us, and singing began:--it went round and round by turns; some of our voices were very sweet, and, upon the whole, 'twas time pleasantly spent. Came to bed at ten.

_Wednesday, 15th._

Here's a lapse! thanks to head winds, a rolling sea, and their result, sickness, sadness, sorrow. I've been better for the last two days, thank God! and take to my book again. Rose at eight, dawdled about, and then came up stairs. Breakfasted, sat working at my Bible-cover till lunch-time. Somebody asked me if I had any of Mrs. Siddons's hair; I sent for my dressing-box, and forthwith it was overhauled, to use the appropriate phrase, by half the company, whom a rainy day had reduced to a state of worse than usual want of occupation. The rain continued all day; we ladies dined in the round-house, the room down stairs being too close. The Captain and Colonel ---- joined us afterwards, and began drinking champagne, and induced us to do the same. As evening came on, the whole of the passengers collected in the round-house. Mr. ----, Mr. D----, and I wrote a rhapsody; afterwards they fell to singing; while they did so, the sky darkened tremendously, the rain came pelting down, the black sea swelled, and rose, and broke upon the ship's sides into boiling furrows of foam, that fled like ghosts along the inky face of the ocean. The ship scudded before the blast, and we managed to keep ourselves warm by singing. After tea, for the first time since I have been on board, got hold of a pack of cards, (oh me, that it ever should come to this!) and initiated Miss ---- in the mysteries of the intellectual game. Mercy! how my home rose before me as I did so. Played till I was tired; dozed, and finally came to bed. Bed! quotha! 'tis a frightful misapplication of terms. Oh for a bed! a real bed; any manner of bed but a bed on shipboard! And yet I have seen some fair things: I have seen a universe of air and water; I have seen the glorious sun come and look down upon this rolling sapphire; I have seen the moon throw her silver columns along the watery waste; I have seen one lonely ship in her silent walk across this wilderness, meet another, greet her, and pass her, like a dream, on the wide deep; I have seen the dark world of waters at midnight open its mysterious mantle beneath our ship's prow, and show below another dazzling world of light. I have seen, what I would not but have seen, though I have left my very soul behind me. England, dear, dear England! oh, for a handful of your earth!

_Thursday, 16th._

Another day, another day! the old fellow posts as well over water as over land! Rose at about half-past eight, went up to the round-house; breakfasted, and worked at my Bible-cover. As soon as our tent was spread, went out on deck: took a longish walk with Mr. ----. I like him very much; his face would enchant Lavater, and his skull ecstacise the Combes. Lay down under our rough pavilion, and heard the gentlemen descant very learnedly upon freemasonry. A book called "Adventures of an Irish Gentleman," suggested the conversation; in which are detailed some of the initiatory ceremonies, which appear to me so incredibly foolish, that I can scarce believe them, even making mankind a handsome allowance for absurdity. I soon perceived that the discussion was likely to prove a serious one, for in America, it seems, 'tis made a political question; and our Boston friend, and the Jacksonite, fell to rather sharply about it. The temperance of the former, however, by retreating from the field, spared us further argumentation. One thing I marvel at:--are the institutions of men stronger to bind men, than those of God; and does masonry effect good, which Christianity does not?--a silly query, by the way; for doubtless men act the good, but forbear to act the evil, before each other's eyes; which they think nothing of doing, or leaving undone, under those of God.

Gossiped till lunch-time; afterwards took up Childe Harold,--commend me to that! I thought of dear H----. She admires Byron more than I do; and yet how wildly I did, how deeply I do still, worship his might, majesty, and loveliness. We dined up stairs, and after dinner, I and Mr. ---- look a long walk on deck; talking flimsy morality, and philosophy, the text of which were generalities, but all the points individualities: I was amused in my heart at him and myself. He'd a good miss of me at ----: Heaven knows, I was odious enough! and therein his informer was right. The day was bright, and bitter cold,--the sea blue, and transparent as that loveliest line in Dante,

"Dolce color di oriental zaffiro,"

with a lining of pearly foam, and glittering spray, that enchanted me. Came and sat down again:--wrote doggerel for the captain's album, about the captain's ship, which, when once I am out of her, I'll swear I love infinitely. Read aloud to them some of Byron's short poems, and that glorious hymn to the sea, in Childe Harold:--mercy, how fine it is! Lay under our canvass shed till nine o'clock:--the stars were brilliant in the intense blue sky, the wind had dropped, the ship lay still--we sang a song or two, supped, and came in; where, after inditing two rhapsodies, we came to bed.

_Friday, 17th._

On my back all day: mercy, how it ached too! the ship reeled about like a drunken thing. I lay down, and began reading Byron's life. As far as I have gone (which is to his leaving England) there is nothing in it but what I expected to find,--the fairly-sown seeds of the after-harvest he bore. Had he been less of an egotist, would he have been so great a poet?--I question it. His fury and wrath at the severe injustice of his critics reminds me, by the by, of those few lines in the Athenæum, which I read the other day, about poetical shoemakers, dairy-maids, ploughmen, and myself. After all, what matters it?--"If this thing be of God," the devil can't overthrow it; if it be not, why the printer's devil may. What can it signify what is said? If truth be truth to the end of reckoning, why, that share of her, if any, which I possess, must endure when recorded as long as truth endures. I almost wonder Byron was moved by criticism: I should have thought him at once too highly armed, and too self-wrapped, to care for it;--however, if a wasp's sting have such virtue in it, 'tis as well it should have been felt as keenly as it was.--Ate nothing but figs and raisins; in the evening some of our gentlemen came into our cabin, and sat with us; I, in very desperation and sea-sickness, began embroidering one of my old nightcaps, wherein I persevered till sleep overtook me.

_Saturday, 18th._

Rose at about half-past eight, dawdled about as usual, breakfasted in the round-house--by the by, before I got out of bed, read a few more pages of Byron's life. I don't exactly understand the species of sentimental _galimatias_ Moore talks about Byron's writing with the same penfull of ink, "Adieu, adieu, my native land!" and "Hurra! Hodgson, we are going." It proves nothing except what I firmly believe, that we must not look for the real feelings of writers in their works--or rather, that what they give us, and what we take for heart feeling, is head weaving--a species of emotion engendered somewhere betwixt the bosom and the brain, and bearing the same proportion of resemblance to reality that a picture does; that is--like feeling, but not feeling--like sadness, but not sadness--like what it appears, but not indeed that very thing: and the greater a man's power of thus producing _sham realities_, the greater his main qualification for being a poet. After breakfast, sat, like Lady Alice in the old song, embroidering my midnight coif. Got Colonel ---- to read Quentin Durward to us as we sat working under our canvass pavilion.

* * * * *

Our company consists chiefly of traders in cloth and hardware, clerks, and counting-house men--a species with but few peculiarities of interest to me, who cannot talk pounds, shillings, and pence, as glibly as less substantial trash. Most of them have crossed this trifling ditch half a dozen times in their various avocations. But though they belong to the same sort generally, they differ enough individually for the amusement of observation. That poor widower, whose remarks on the starry inside of the sea attracted my attention the other evening, put into my hands to-day a couple of pretty little books enough; a sort of hotch-potch, or, to speak more sweetly, pot-pourri praise of women--passages selected from various authors who have done us the honour to remember us in their good commendations. There were one or two most eloquent and exquisite passages from Jeremy Taylor--one on love that enchanted me. I should like to copy it. What a contrast to that exquisite thing of Shelley's, "What is Love?" and yet they are both beautiful, powerful, and true. I could have helped them to sundry more passages on this subject, particularly from my oracle. Mr. ---- read to us after lunch, and we sat very happily under our _yawning_ till the rain drove us in. No wind, the sea one rippleless sheet of lead, and the sky just such another. Our main-top gallant-mast had been split in one of our late blows, and I went out in the rain to see them restore the spar. Towards evening the wind faired and freshened, in consequence of which our gentlemen's spirits rose; and presently, in spite of the rain, they were dancing, singing, and romping like mad things on the quarter-deck. It was Saturday--holiday on board ship--the men were all dismissed to their grog. Mr. ---- and I sang through a whole volume of Moore's melodies; and at ten o'clock (for the first time since our second day on board) we of the petticoats adjourned to the gentlemen's cabin to drink "sweethearts and wives," according to the approved sailors' practice. It made me sad to hear them, as they lifted their glasses to their lips, pass round the toast, "Sweethearts and wives!" I drank in my heart--"Home and dear H----." One thing amused me a good deal:--the Captain proposed as a toast, "The Ladies--God bless them," which accordingly was being duly drunk, when I heard, close to my elbow, a devout, half audible--"and the Lord deliver us!" This, from a man with a face like one of Retsch's most grotesque etchings, and an expression half humorous, half terrified, sent me into fits of laughter. They sang a song or two, and at twelve we left them to their meditations, which presently reached our ears in the sound, not shape, of "Health to Bacchus," in full chorus, to which tune I said my prayers.

_Sunday, 19th._

Did not rise till late--dressed and came on deck. The morning was brilliant; the sea, bold, bright, dashing its snowy crests against our ship's sides, and flinging up a cloud of glittering spray round the prow. I breakfasted--and then amused myself with finding the lessons, collects, and psalms for the whole ship's company. After lunch, they spread our tent; a chair was placed for my father, and, the little bell being rung, we collected in our rude church. It affected me much, this praying on the lonely sea, in the words that at the same hour were being uttered by millions of kindred tongues in our dear home. There was something, too, impressive and touching in this momentary union of strangers, met but for a passing day, to part, perhaps, never to behold each other's faces again, in the holiest of all unions, that of Christian worship. Here I felt how close, how strong that wondrous tie of common faith that thus gathered our company, unknown and unconnected by any one worldly interest or bond, to utter the same words of praise and supplication, to think perhaps the same thoughts of humble and trustful dependence on God's great goodness in this our pilgrimage to foreign lands, to yearn perhaps with the same affection and earnest imploring of blessings towards our native soil and its beloved ones left behind.--Oh, how I felt all this, as we spoke aloud that touching invocation, which is always one of my most earnest prayers, "Almighty God, who hast promised when two or three are gathered together in thy name," etc. * * * The bright cloudless sky and glorious sea seemed to respond, in their silent magnificence, to our _Te Deum_.--I felt more of the excitement of prayer than I have known for many a day, and 'twas good--oh! very, very good!

* * * * *

'Tis good to behold this new universe, this mighty sea which he hath made, this glorious cloudless sky, where hang, like dew drops, his scattered worlds of light--to see all this, and say,--

"These are thy glorious works, parent of good!"