Part 2

After prayers, wrote journal. Some sea-weed floated by the ship to-day, borne from the gulf stream; I longed to have it, for it told of land: gulls too came wheeling about, and the little petterels like sea-swallows skimmed round and round, now resting on the still bosom of the sunny sea, now flickering away in rapid circles like black butterflies. They got a gun, to my horror, and wasted a deal of time in trying to shoot these feathered mariners; but they did not even succeed in scaring them. We went and sat on the forecastle to see the sun set: he did not go down cloudless, but dusky ridges of vapour stretched into ruddy streaks along the horizon, as his disk dipped into the burnished sea. The foam round the prow, as the ship made way with all sail set before a fair wind, was the most lovely thing I ever saw. Purity, strength, glee, and wondrous beauty were in those showers of snowy spray that sprang up above the black' ship's sides, and fell like a cataract of rubies under the red sunlight. We sat there till evening came down: the sea, from brilliant azure, grew black as unknown things, the wind freshened, and we left our cold stand to walk, or rather run, up and down the deck to warm ourselves. This we continued till, one by one, the stars had lit their lamps in heaven: their wondrous brilliancy, together with the Aurora Borealis, which rushed like sheeted ghosts along the sky, and the stream of fire that shone round the ship's way, made heaven and sea appear like one vast world of flame, as though the thin blue veil of air and the dark curtain of the waters were but drawn across a universe of light. Mercy, how strange it was! We stood at the stern, watching the milky wake the ship left as she stole through the eddying waters. Came back to our gipsy encampment, where, by the light of a lantern, we supped and sang sundry scraps of old songs. At ten came to bed.

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Took an observation of the sun's altitude at noon, and saw them hoist a main-top-royal sail, which looked very pretty as it was unreefed against the clear sky.

_Monday, 20th._

Calm--utter calm--a roasting August sun, a waveless sea, the sails flapping idly against the mast, and our black cradle rocking to and fro without progressing a step. They lowered the boat, and went out rowing--I wanted to go, but they would not let me! A brig was standing some four miles off us, which, by the by, I was the first to see, except our mate, in my morning watch, which began at five o'clock, when I saw the moon set and the sun rise, and feel more than ever convinced that absolute reality is away from the purpose of works of art. The sky this morning was as like the sea shore as ever sand and shingle were, the clouds lying along the horizon in pale dusky yellow layers, and higher up, floating in light brown ribbed masses, like the sands which grow wrinkled under the eternal smiling of the sea. Against the dim horizon, which blended with the violet-coloured sky, the mate then showed me, through the glass, the brig standing on the sea's edge, for all the world like one of the tiny birds who were wheeling and chirping round our ship's stern. I have done more in the shape of work to-day than any since the two first I spent on board; translated a German fable without much trouble, read a canto in Dante, ending with a valuation of fame. "O spirito gentil!" how lived fair wisdom in your soul--how shines she in your lays!--Wrote journal, walked about, worked at my cap, in the evening danced merrily enough, quadrilles, country dances, La Boulangère, and the monaco; fairly danced myself tired. Came to bed. But oh! not to sleep--mercy, what a night! The wind blowing like mad, the sea rolling, the ship pitching, bouncing, shuddering, and reeling, like a thing possessed. I lay awake, listening to her creaking and groaning, till two o'clock, when, sick of my sleepless berth, I got up and was going up stairs, to see, at least, how near drowning we were, when D----, who was lying awake too, implored me to lie down again. I did so for the hundred and eleventh time, complaining bitterly that I should be stuffed down in a loathsome berth, cabined, cribbed, confined, while the sea was boiling below, and the wind bellowing above us. Lay till daylight, the gale increasing furiously; boxes, chairs, beds, and their contents, wooden valuables, and human invaluables, rolling about and clinging to one another in glorious confusion. At about eight o'clock, a tremendous sea took the ship in the waist, and, rushing over the deck, banged against our sky-light, and bounced into our cabin. Three women were immediately apparent from their respective cribs, and poor H---- appeared in all her lengthy full-length, and came and took refuge with me. As I held her in my arms, and put my cloak round her, she shook from head to foot, poor child!--I was not the least frightened, but rather excited by this invasion of Dan Neptune's; but I wish to goodness I had been on deck.--Oh, how I wish I had seen that spoonful of salt water flung from the sea's boiling bowl! I heard afterwards, that it had nearly washed away poor Mr. ----, besides handsomely ducking and frightening our military man. Lay all day on my back, most wretched, the ship heaving like any earthquake; in fact, there is something irresistibly funny in the way in which people seem dispossessed of their power of volition by this motion, rushing hither and thither in all directions but the one they purpose going, and making as many angles, fetches, and sidelong deviations from the point they aim at, as if the devil had tied a string to their legs and jerked it every now and then in spite--by the by, not a bad illustration of our mental and moral struggles towards their legitimate aims. Another horrible night! oh horror!

_Wednesday, 22d._

A fair wind--a fine day--though very very cold and damp. It seems, in our squall last night, we had also a small piece of mutiny. During the mate's watch, and while the storm was at the worst, the man who was steering left the helm, and refused to obey orders; whereupon Mr. Curtis took up a hatchet, and assured him he would knock his brains out,--which the captain said, had it been his watch, he should have done on the spot, and without further warning. We are upon the Newfoundland banks, though not yet on soundings. Stitched my gown--worked at my nightcap--walked about:--Mr. ---- read Quentin Durward to us while we worked. The extreme cold made us take refuge in our cabin, where I sat working and singing till dinner-time. Dined at table again; afterwards came back to our cabin--began writing journal, and was interrupted by hearing a bustle in the dinner-room. The gentlemen were all standing up, and presently I heard Walter Scott's name passed round:--it made me lay down my pen. Oh! how pleasant it sounded--that unanimous blessing of strangers upon a great and good man, thus far from him--from all but our own small community. The genuine and spontaneous tribute to moral worth and mental power! Poor, poor Sir Walter! And yet no prayer that can be breathed to bless, no grateful and soul felt invocation, can snatch him from the common doom of earth-born flesh, or buy away one hour's anguish and prostration of body and spirit, before the triumphant infirmities of our miserable nature. I thought of Dante's lines, that I read but a day ago; and yet--and yet--fame is something. His fame is good--is great--is glorious. To be enshrined in the hearts of all virtuous and wise men, as the friend of virtue and the teacher of wisdom; to have freely given pleasure, happiness, forgetfulness, to millions of his fellow-creatures; to have made excellence lovely, and enjoyment pure and salutary; to have taught none but lessons of honour and integrity; to have surrounded his memory, and filled the minds of all men with images fair, and bright, and wonderful, yet left around his name no halo, and in the hearts of others no slightest cloud to blot these enchanting creations; to have done nothing but good with God's good gifts--is not this fame worth something? 'Tis worth man's love, and God's approval--'tis worth toiling for, living for, and dying for. He has earned it fairly--he is a great and good man--peace be with him in his hour of mortal sorrow, and eternal peace hereafter in the heaven to which he surely goes. They then drank Washington Irving,--a gentle spirit, too. After working for some time more, came on deck, where we danced with infinite glee, disturbed only by the surpassing uproar of Colonel ----.

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The only of our crew whom I cotton to fairly, are the ----, and that good-natured lad, Mr. ----: though the former rather distress me by their abundant admiration, and the latter by his inveterate Yorkshire, and never opening his mouth when he sings, which, as he has a very sweet voice, is a cruel piece of selfishness, keeping half his tones, and all his words, for his own private satisfaction.

_Thursday, 23d._

On soundings, and nearly off them again--a fine day;--worked at my nightcap--another, by the by, having finished one--exemplary!--Walked about, ate, drank, wrote journal--read some of it to the ----, who seemed much gratified by my doing so. I go on with Byron's life. He is loo much of an egotist. I do not like him a bit the better for knowing his prose mind;--far from thinking it redeems any of the errors of his poetical man, I think I never read any thing professing to be a person's undisguised feelings and opinions, with so much heartlessness--so little goodness in it. His views of society are like his views of human nature; or rather, by the by, reverse the sentence, to prove the fallacy in judgment; and though his satire is keen and true, yet he is nothing but satirical--never, never serious and earnest, even with himself. Oh! I have a horror of that sneering devil of Goethe's; and he seems to me to have possessed Byron utterly. A curious thought, or rather a fantastical shadow of a thought, occurred to me to-day in reading a chapter in the Corinthians about the resurrection. I mean to be buried with H----'s ring on my finger; will it be there when I rise again?--What a question for the discussers of the needle's point controversy! My father read to us, this afternoon, part of one of Webster's speeches. It was very eloquent, but yet it did not fulfil my idea of perfect oratory--inasmuch as I thought it too pictorial:--there was too much scenery and decoration about it, to use the cant of my own trade;--there was too much effect, theatrical effect in it, from which Heaven defend me, for I do loathe it _in_ its place, and fifty times worse out of it. Perhaps Webster's speaking is a good sample, in its own line, of the leaven wherewith these times are leavened. I mean only in its defects--for its merits are sterling, and therefore of all time.

But this oil and canvass style of thinking, writing, and speaking, is bad. I wish our age were more sculptural in its genius--though I have not the power in any thing to conform thereto, I have the grace to perceive its higher excellence: yet Milton was a sculptor, Shakspeare a painter. How do we get through that?--My reason for objecting to Webster's style--though the tears were in my eyes several times while my father read--is precisely the same as my reason for not altogether liking my father's reading--'tis slightly theatrical--something too much of passion, something too much of effect--but perhaps I am mistaken; for I do so abhor the slightest approach to the lamps and orange peel, that I had almost rather hear a "brazen candlestick turned on a wheel," than all the music of due emphasis and inflection, if allied to a theatrical manner.--Dined at table again. They abound in toasts, and, among others, gave "The friends we have left, and those we are going to!" My heart sank. I am going to no friend; and the "stranger," with which the Americans salute wayfarers through their land, is the only title I can claim amongst them. After dinner, walked about--danced--saw the sun sink in a bed of gorgeous stormy clouds;--worked and walked till bed-time.--I was considerably amused, and my English blood a little roused at a very good-natured and well-meant caution of Mr. ----, to avoid making an enemy of Colonel ----. He is, they say, a party man, having influence which he may exert to our detriment.

_Friday, 24th._

Rose late after a fair night's sleep--came up to the round-house. After breakfast, worked and walked for an immense time. Read a canto in Dante: just as I had finished it, "A sail! a sail!" was cried from all quarters. Remembering my promise to dear H----, I got together my writing-materials, and scrawled her a few incoherent lines full of my very heart. The vessel bore rapidly down upon us, but as there was no prospect of either her or our lying-to, Mr. ---- tied my missive, together with one Mr. ---- had just scribbled, to a lump of lead, and presently we all rushed on deck to see the ship pass us. She was an English packet, from Valparaiso, bound to London; her foremast had been carried away, but she was going gallantly before the wind. As she passed us, Mr. ---- got up into the boat, to have a better chance of throwing. I saw him fling powerfully,--the little packet whizzed through the air, but the distance was impossible, and the dark waters received it within twenty feet of the ship, which sailed rapidly on, and had soon left us far behind. I believe I screamed, as the black sea closed over my poor letter.

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Came down to my cabin and cried like a wretch--came up again, and found them all at lunch. Went and lay on the bowsprit, watching the fair ship courtesying through the bright sea with all her sail set, a gallant and graceful sight. Came in--wrote journal--translated a German fable. Worked at my cap, while my father went on with Webster's speech. I am still of the same mind about it, though some of the passages he read to-day were finer than any I had heard before. He gets over a shallow descent with admirable plausibility--and yet I think I would rather be descended from a half heathen Saxon giant, than from William Penn himself. We dined at table again; D---- could not: she was ill. After dinner, sat working for some time;--I had a horrid sick headach,--walked on deck. The wind and sea were both rising; we stood by the side of the ship, and watched the inky waters swelling themselves, and rolling sullenly towards us, till they broke in silver clouds against the ship, and sprang above her sides, covering us with spray. The sky had grown mirk as midnight, and the wind that came rushing over the sea was hot from the south. We staid out till it grew dark. At ten, the crazy old ship, in one of her headlong bounces, flung my whole supper in my lap; the wind and water were riotous; the ship plunged and shuddered. After screwing my courage to a game of speculation, I was obliged to leave it, and my companions. Came down and went to bed.--Oh horror! loathsome life!--

_Saturday and Sunday._

Towards evening got up and came on deck:--tremendous head wind, going off our course; pray Heaven we don't make an impromptu landing on Sable Island! Sat on the ship's side, watching the huge ocean gathering itself up into pitchy mountains, and rolling its vast ridges, one after another, against the good ship, who dipped, and dipped, and dived down into the black chasm, and then sprang up again, and rode over the swelling surges like an empress. The sky was a mass of stormy black, here and there edged with a copper-looking cloud, and breaking in one or two directions into pale silvery strata, that had an unhealthy lightning look: a heavy black squall lay ahead of us, like a dusky curtain, whence we saw the rain, fringe-like, pouring down against the horizon. The wind blew furiously. I got cradled among the ropes, so as not to be pitched off when the ship lurched, and enjoyed it all amazingly. It was sad and solemn, and, but for the excitement of the savage-looking waves, that every now and then lifted their overwhelming sides against us, it would have made me melancholy: but it stirred my spirits to ride over these huge sea-horses, that came bounding and bellowing round us. Remained till I was chilled with the bitter wind, and wet through with spray;--walked up and down the deck for some time,--had scarce set foot within the round-house, when a sea took her in midships, and soused the loiterers. Sat up, or rather slept up, till ten o'clock, and then went down to bed. I took up Pelham to-day for a second--'t is amazingly clever, and like the thing it means to be, to boot. Heard something funny that I wish to remember--at a Methodist meeting, the singer who led the Psalm tune, finding that his concluding word, which was Jacob, had not syllables enough to fill up the music adequately, ended thus--Ja-a-a-a--Ja-a-a-a--fol-de-riddle--cob!--

_Monday, 26th._

Read Byron's life;--defend me from my friends! Rose tolerably late; after breakfast, took a walk on deck--lay and slept under our sea-tent; read on until lunch-time--dined on deck. After dinner walked about with H---- and the captain; we had seated ourselves on the ship's side, but he being called away, we rushed off to the forecastle to enjoy the starlight by ourselves. We sat for a little time, but were soon found out; Mr. ---- and Mr. ---- joined us, and we sat till near twelve o'clock, singing and rocking under the stars. Venus--"The star of love, all stars above,"--threw a silver column down the sea, like the younger sister of the moon's reflection. By the by, I saw to-day, and with delight, an American sunset. The glorious god strode down heaven's hill, without a cloud to dim his downward path;--as his golden disk touched the panting sea, I turned my head away, and in less than a minute he had fallen beneath the horizon--leapt down into the warm waves, and left one glow of amber round half the sky; upon whose verge, where the violet curtain of twilight came spreading down to meet its golden fringe,

"The maiden, With white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon,"

stood, with her silver lamp in her hand, and her pale misty robes casting their wan lustre faintly around her. Oh me, how glorious it was! how sad, how very very sad I was!

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Dear, yet forbidden thoughts, that from my soul, While shines the weary sun, with stern control I drive away; why, when my spirits lie Shrouded in the cold sleep of misery, Do ye return, to mock me with false dreaming, Where love, and all life's happiness is beaming? Oh visions fair! that one by one have gone Down, 'neath the dark horizon of my days, Let not your pale reflection linger on In the bleak sky, where live no more your rays. Night! silent nurse, that with thy solemn eyes Hang'st o'er the rocking cradle of the world, Oh! be thou darker to my dreaming eyes, Nor, in my slumbers, be the past unfurl'd. Haunt me no more with whisperings from the dead. The dead in heart, the changed, the withered: Bring me no more sweet blossoms from my spring, Which round my soul their early fragrance fling, And, when the morning, with chill icy start, Wakes me, hang blighted round my aching heart: Oh night, and slumber, be ye visionless, Dark as the grave, deep as forgetfulness!

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Night, thou shalt nurse me, but be sure, good nurse, While sitting by my bed, that thou art silent; I will not let thee sing me to my slumbers With the sweet lullabies of former times, Nor tell me tales, as other gossips wont, Of the strange fairy days, that are all gone.

_Wednesday, 28th._

Skipped writing on Tuesday--so much the better--a miserable day spent between heart-ach and side-ach.

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Rose late, breakfasted with H----, afterwards went and sat on the forecastle, where I worked the whole morning, woman's work, stitching. It was intensely hot till about two o'clock, when a full east wind came on, which the sailors all blessed, but which shook from its cold wings a heavy, clammy, chilly dew, that presently pierced all our clothes, and lay on the deck like rain. At dinner we were very near having a scene: the Bostonian and the Jacksonite falling out again about the President; and a sharp, quick, snapping conversation, which degenerated into a snarl on one side, and a growl on the other, for a short time rather damped the spirits of the table. Here, at least, General Jackson seems very unpopular, and half the company echoed in earnest what I said in jest to end the dispute, "Oh hang General Jackson!" After dinner, returned to the forecastle with H---- to see the sun set; her brother followed us thither.

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Finished my work, and then, tying on sundry veils and handkerchiefs, danced on deck for some time;--I then walked about with ----, by the light of the prettiest young moon imaginable.

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Afterwards sat working and stifling in the round-house till near ten, and then, being no longer able to endure the heat, came down, undressed, and sat luxuriously on the ground in my dressing-gown drinking lemonade. At twelve went to bed; the men kept up a horrible row on deck half the night; singing, dancing, whooping, and running over our heads.

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The captain brought me to-day a land-swallow, which, having flown out so far, came hovering exhausted over the ship, and suffered itself to be caught. Poor little creature! how very much more I do love all things than men and women! I felt sad to death for its weary little wings and frightened heart, which beat against my hand, without its having strength to struggle. I made a cage in a basket for it, and gave it some seed, which it will not eat--little carnivorous wretch! I must catch some flies for it.

_Thursday, 29th._

My poor little bird is dead. I am sorry! I could mourn almost as much over the death of a soulless animal, as I would rejoice at that of a brute with a soul. Life is to these winged things a pure enjoyment; and to see the rapid pinions folded, and the bright eye filmed, conveys sadness to the heart, for 'tis almost like looking on--what indeed is not--utter cessation of existence. Poor little creature! I wished it had not died--I would but have borne it tenderly and carefully to shore, and given it back to the air again!

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I sat down stairs in my cabin all day; the very spirit of doggerel possessed me, and I poured forth rhymes as rapidly as possible, and they were as bad as possible.--Wrote journal; in looking over my papers, fell in with the Star of Seville--some of it is very good. I'll write an English tragedy next. Dined at table--our heroes have drunk wine, and are amicable. After dinner, went on deck, and took a short walk; saw the sun set, which he did like a god, as he is, leaving the sky like a geranium curtain, which overshadowed the sea with rosy light--beautiful! Came down and sat on the floor like a Turkish woman, stitching, singing, and talking, till midnight; supped--and to bed. My appetite seems like the Danaïdes' tub, of credible memory.

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_Friday, 30th._