In travelling from Washington to Richmond, and in passing through part of Maryland, the visitors were struck by the dilapidated appearance of the large farmhouses, mostly built of wood, to many of which there were attached curtilages, where the slaves were formerly penned in at night; and it was observed that the fences were very ragged, that the fields were left full of stumps of trees, and that the careful cultivation which had struck our eyes in the more northern States was wanting. One gentleman told us that the railway, passing through the worst and most neglected portion of the country, did not form a favourable platform from which to judge of the general condition of the State. But it is, I believe, undeniable that the soil has been very much exhausted on the Atlantic side in Virginia and in Maryland by the constant succession of crops of tobacco, and that it is necessary to use manure, not sparingly, in order to farm the land with advantage. The country by the right bank of the river seems very much as it was at the period of the war or before it—rugged, unkempt—with patches of forest and low swampy land, perforated by sullen lagoons and marshy streams.
At a station near Quantico Creek General Fitzhugh Lee, nephew of the great Confederate leader, the daring chief of the Confederate cavalry after the death of "Jeb" (J. E. B.) Stewart in battle, joined our party; a soldierly-looking man, broad-browed, bright and keen-eyed, of immense breadth of chest, thick throated, large limbed, with a resemblance to Pelissier in his best days, to which, no doubt, a massive moustache and a heavy barbe d'Afrique somewhat contribute. He is now settled as a farmer on the banks of the Potomac, in a region every foot of which reeks with the memories of the four years' war. He lives on his estate and cultivates it with profit, and he draws, moreover, a rich harvest, at the time of the shad fishing, from the river, where his nets sweep in occasionally 60,000 or even 80,000 of these much-prized fish at a haul! Fitzhugh Lee told the Duke that he fully and entirely accepted the situation: he acknowledged the Union, and he would not, if he could, go back to the old order of things. Nay, more, he declared that the Virginians round about him were of the same way of thinking. Labour was to be had when needed. The negroes tilled the fields for wages, and the hirer had no further care about them when their work was done. Contrast that with his trouble with his biped property! The ladies of his house had to look after the women in travail. The negroes, when sick, were thrown on the hands of the master. When worn out with work or stricken by illness, the coloured people became burdens on the farm; and any one who has a breeding establishment for cattle or horses knows what infinity of demands on purse and patience the accidents and maladies to which all living things are exposed produce. Into Quantico Creek flows the stream of Bull Run, and away on our right was fought the first of the three battles which make the name renowned in the annals of the war. General Fitzhugh Lee did not dwell on the first defeat of the Federals with any relish either, but he could not forget all that happened on that memorable 3rd of July, 1861, any more than he could forget the long years of incessant combat of which it was the precursor, and when our train approached Fredericksburg, the scene of Burnside's disaster, and he was warmed up by the interest and interrogatories of his companions to recall the episodes of the three days' sanguinary fighting, the fire was kindled within him, and the burly Virginian farmer, standing beside the Duke on the carriage platform, described the position and the movements of the two great armies as if he were still engaged in it. Without any vaunting, the Southern leader spoke of his experiences in the war, and those who heard him recollected with feelings not easy to analyse that but a few hours before they had been listening with equal interest to General Sheridan, the antagonist of the gallant gentleman who was now talking to them and describing some of their cavalry engagements. He pointed out Maree's Hill, and the slopes on which the Irish Brigade lay in long rows of dead and dying at the close of Meagher's desperate assault, the site whence Lee surveyed and directed the action, the hills on which the Confederates were entrenched, the plains over which Burnside's column advanced and deployed under the Confederate fire, and the cardinal mistake of the Federal leader in attacking the left instead of the exposed right of the Southern army. "I have often spoken about it to Burnside since. He and I are very good friends now. I have often fought the battle over with him, and told him his best chance would have been against our right, which he could have got at by crossing the river lower down than he did." It was but the day before we had been chatting with the Federal general, now a senator of the United States, at Washington, and as genial and lusty[6] as he was when he came to the German headquarters at Versailles on the chivalrous if somewhat Quixotic enterprise of saving Paris from the last necessities of defeat.
There was a body of Virginian gentlemen at the Richmond station, which is some way from the town, to welcome the Duke, and carriages were awaiting the train. After the usual introductions our guides, philosophers, and friends drove us round and did the honours of their capital with much kindness and courtesy. The weather was disagreeable, but it was certainly exceptional—there was a grey sunless sky; bitter blasts swept the dusty roads, raising clouds of fiery red sand from the brickfield soil on which the city is built, and quite destroying previous impressions of the climate of Virginia. At Richmond itself there is not very much to be seen by an unsympathetic stranger, but for Americans of every stripe of political opinion the scene of such important events must be intensely interesting. We found the traces of the works thrown around the Confederate capital had nearly disappeared. A remnant of some of the earthworks may still be seen up the river, and in the Cemetery, marked by a pyramid of stone, lie Jeb Stewart and many a valiant comrade. The cemeteries, which form a melancholy addition to the interesting spots around the Virginian capital, are filled with the remains of the victims of that long and deadly struggle. Petersburg, from which Lee, after his brilliant and skilful defence, was obliged to fall back to the Court-House of Appomatox, where he surrendered, was too far for us to visit, but we saw much that was of interest in our hurried drive—the house in which ex-President Davis lived, the church in which he was at prayers when the news of Lee's abandonment of Petersburg was brought to him, the Tredegar Foundry where the Confederate guns were made, the Capitol which resounded to the ardent declamation of the statesmen who made Virginia illustrious, and to the eloquence of those who shared her evil fortunes. We saw the abodes of despairing or hopeful multitudes, of the sickness unto death, and of the death which is a release, the ruinous brick walls of Libby Prison, the Hospital, and we thought that it would be just as well to level the ugly piles to the ground. Later in the day we met one who had charge of the Federal prisoners, of whom some 75,000, he told us, had been under his care, a grave and courteous man, deeply imbued with the teaching of the fathers of the Constitution, who as a Judge believed that Heaven, in siding with les gros bataillons, had not done justice to a holy cause, and he made a remark which illustrated, I think, the spirit of many of those who accept the actual results of the contest as inevitable if not equitable. "At the outset of the war," he said, "all the prisoners were either Yankees or Irish; at the end of it the great proportion of the prisoners were Dutchmen—Germans, who could not understand a word of English, and who had come to fight for pay." The Irish ceased to enlist as soon as the Federal Government let loose and enlisted the negroes, and the war, he explained, was carried on by the foreign immigration from Europe. The Judge, indeed, held that if the North and the South had been left to fight it out the latter must have won. But what avail these speculations now? Let the dead bury their dead, and let the victors suffer the living to dwell in peace. Here are men, Southerners and Northerners, living in the same land, who have stood face to face in battle, and would live all the better if the sleeping dogs of war were let lie in peace. We were shown on our way to Richmond the humble shanty in which Stonewall Jackson breathed his last, and in the grounds of the Capitol itself the statue raised by admiring strangers to the memory of the Virginian Havelock—and it cannot be held, I think, that such a memorial as the latter can be classed with the celebration of the defeats of the Southern armies by permanent military organisations. He would be a very thin-skinned and ridiculous sort of Briton who took umbrage at the forthcoming festival at Yorktown which is to commemorate the surrender of Cornwallis to Rochambeau and Washington; but the Americans would have good reason to be moved to anger if we in England were to appoint a day for the glorification of the capture and destruction of Washington in the last war, an act of which none of us feel very proud, and of which most Englishmen are utterly ignorant, even though they may have heard of New Orleans, Lundy's Lane, and Plattsburg.
The State Capitol is said to be an imitation of the square house at Nismes. It stands in a fine situation in a park which is decorated with statues and planted with trees, peopled by beautiful grey squirrels—evidently the pets of the people. Its principal treasure is the statue of Washington, by Houdon; but there is a dishevelled-looking Library of 40,000 volumes, amongst which are some valuable works connected with the early history of the colony. In front of the Capitol there is another statue of Washington, equestrian and colossal, surrounded by statues of Henry, Jefferson, Marshall, Mason, Nelson, and Lewis; and there is also a fine statue of Henry Clay in the grounds; but I think we strangers regarded with a deeper interest, derived from the recollection of more recent exploits, the statue of Stonewall Jackson, erected by subscriptions raised in England to the memory of one of the most single-minded and gallant soldiers who ever fought for a lost cause.
The manufacture of tobacco still flourishes in the capital of Virginia. We were conducted to two of the largest establishments, where we were shown, with great courtesy by the managers and owners, the processes by which the most celebrated preparations for smoking and chewing are turned out from beginning to end; but I observed that—whether to prevent idle strangers from gratifying their curiosity, or an unauthorised investigation of trade secrets—we were always personally introduced by our guides, and that the doors of the factories were closed. The most interesting part of the interior was a long room, in which was a crowd of coloured people, men, women, and children, sorting tobacco, rolling up the leaves, and manipulating it for the various preparations which it undergoes in the presses and in the addition of saccharine matter, and the like, before it is packed up or cut for use. A happier looking people could not be seen, and at times their feelings of contentment burst out into song. They all joined, singing in chorus, with a great sweetness, some of the extraordinary melodies—half comic, half religious—of which we had a good experience subsequently.
Colonel Carrington, the proprietor of Ballard House, the principal Richmond Hotel, had sent a telegram before we started to request the Duke to postpone his visit for a week, as there was a Medical Conference being held, and all the hotels were filled, his own included, at the time. But our arrangements had been made, and it was not possible to alter them. What would become of our "programme"? Colonel Carrington did his best to accommodate the party, but the Medical Conference was in the ascendant. It was amusing to read in a Washington paper that the Duke had "expressed a desire to partake of a real old Virginia dinner," and that Colonel Carrington had gratified him to his heart's desire, so that "his Grace declared it was the best meal he had had since he landed." This announcement was made under capital letters: "The Duke's Dinner. He Gets A Square Meal In Richmond." It was late at night when we reached Washington. Notwithstanding the exceedingly unpleasant day the visit was exceedingly interesting, and I was more than ever content that I had persuaded my friends to visit the place which was once the centre of political life to the Southern Confederacy.
May 4th was devoted to an inspection of various objects of interest. It was our last day in Washington, and many visits had to be paid and cards left, for in no country in the world are the obligations of courtesy connected with card-leaving more rigidly exacted than in the United States; and perhaps there are no people usually so negligent in such matters as our own countrymen, unless they are connected with diplomacy. English travellers—at least if we are to judge from recent books—seldom come to a capital which is in every way worthy of inspection. In the two latest and best books of travel there is no mention of it at all. It is now incomparably the most beautiful city in the Union; the broad streets, asphalted, or well paved, lined with trees, no longer strike right and left into illimitable distances of unoccupied space, but present long rows of well-built houses.
At the time of the advance of the Federals the feeling of Washington was unmistakably Confederate, or "Secesh," as it was called in those days. I scarcely knew a man of any prominence there who was not opposed to the policy of the Government and Mr. Lincoln; always excepting, of course, the senators and the Congress-men then sitting at the Capitol, though even amongst them there were dissidents, for Breckenridge and his friends had not yet left Washington. There were suspects whom it was desirable to intimidate, or necessary to molest; and amongst these were Mr. Corcoran, who is regarded with respect by all who know him, and who now occupies the highest position in the estimation of the society of the city, to which he has been a large benefactor. The Corcoran Gallery owes its origin and its maintenance to his taste, wealth, and public spirit; and the visit which was paid to it to-day was well rewarded by the inspection of a number of very fine paintings and statues of very high order.
Amongst the survivors of the time, now so far back, of my long residence at Washington, I was glad to find General Emory and his wife. One of the earliest explorers of the territories acquired from Mexico at the outset of the war, he commanded the 6th Cavalry, which was quartered at Washington on ground which is at present covered with fine houses. After a distinguished career in the campaign he became Governor of New Orleans, where he re-established confidence and did much to abate the bitter feelings which had been aroused by the acts of his predecessors in the minds of the inhabitants. Of the officers of that gallant corps, after whom I enquired, there were none left that I knew; and the same answer was made to each name I uttered. "What has become of W——?" "Oh! dead long ago." "What of L——?" "He is dead, too." "What of K——?" "Oh; poor fellow, he died not very long ago;" and so on. "The Commodore," our neighbour, witty, shrewd, quaint, and the embodiment of kindly fun and satire, he too is gone! It is the penalty of living to lose one's friends. The feelings which were aroused by these memories were not diminished by a visit to Brady the photographer, who displayed whole albums filled with likenesses of deceased friends, and worse still, with photographs—alas! no longer likenesses—of men and women taken twenty years ago, now offering painful contrasts to their recognisable semblances in the life and flesh.
Another old friend, General Hazen, called on us to-day. General Hazen visited the headquarters of the German army during the siege of Paris, and was for some time in residence at Versailles, where I often had the pleasure of meeting him, and he subsequently made an extensive tour over Europe, with the view of examining the military establishments of the Great Powers, of which he recorded the results in a very useful volume. He is now in charge of the Meteorological Department, to which the Duke paid a visit in the afternoon; and the mechanism and arrangement of the extensive system of observations for national purposes conducted under his care were shown and explained to us by the officers of the department in the most painstaking manner.
And then there was the Smithsonian to be visited, where the rooms seemed to me haunted by the shade of the dear Professor Henry who was wont to accompany me through the galleries in times past, explaining the mysteries of the contents of the institution over which he presided with such care, knowledge, and judgment, with that gentle and persuasive inductiveness which we recognise in the style of Professor Owen.
The Patent Office, which would repay a week's careful study, was hurriedly inspected, and the Post Office and Agricultural Department shared the same fate. Everywhere we had to acknowledge the extreme courtesy of the officials of the national establishments in the United States.
In a restaurant in Pennsylvania Avenue, where, in the midst of all these multifarious labours, we took refuge for a moment, to eat an oyster, there was lying on the table a dish of frogs' legs about the size of those of a chicken, neatly garnished with green leaves, beneath a block of ice. The Duke asked the attendant whether they were really good to eat. "I believe you!" he replies. "For myself I cannot bear poultry, but I can always eat those. And now look!" said he, "I will show you a curious thing. You would think that these legs have no life in them. But just watch." He took up a pinch of salt from a cellar near at hand and sprinkled it on the legs, which immediately were agitated with convulsive twitches, amounting in several instances to vigorous kicks. I felt as surprised as Galvani was when he touched the leg of the frog with his scalpel. Apropos of this plat I may mention that subsequently we overcame our repugnance so far as to order a dish, and found it very excellent indeed, and whenever the delicacy was obtainable it became quite a usual portion of our more sumptuous entertainments. But for my part I considered it very like flavourless but tender chicken. Once, indeed, long ago, I had had an involuntary experience of the taste, for, walking one morning with a southern planter by the side of a shallow ditch bordering his sugar-cane field, I saw an enormous thing about the size of the top of a man's hat, struggling in the mud, upon which one of the black attendants precipitated himself, and seizing it, he mounted the bank with a frog the size of a good fowl in his hand. "What on earth is that for?" "Oh, it is most excellent eating," said my friend. "I would die of starvation," exclaimed I, "before I would touch a morsel of it." At lunch that day there was put upon the table a spatch-cock fowl, which my host asked me to try. "What do you think of it?" "It is excellent." "That," he said, "is a part of the frog you despised so much this morning."
The Attorney-General, Mr. MacVeagh, assembled a party to meet the Duke at dinner; and our last night, which was passed at his hospitable mansion, was the pleasantest we had in Washington.
Departure from Washington—Harper's Ferry—The State Capital—Rats on the Rampage—Pennsylvania Farming.
Next day (May 5th), at 10 o'clock, we left by the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, sorry we had not more time to enjoy the hospitalities of our friends, and to see more of the interesting people and scenes with which we made such a short acquaintance; but, indeed, the number of attractions presented for the time that we had at our disposal was quite embarrassing enough, and whilst we were at Washington the party, broken up in detachments under the care of various friends, lost no time, but went to racecourses, galleries, and national institutions, crossed the Potomac to the heights of Arlington, and visited the cemeteries where tens of thousands of stone memorials, placed, as the dead men beneath them once stood, in orderly array, attest the severity of the tremendous conflict in which the first shots were fired, not very far from the spot, more than twenty years ago. It is said that there are about 15,000 bodies buried in one enclosure; even in death the white and the black are divided—the former are buried near Arlington House, the coloured men's remains lie half a mile or more away. Another cemetery, containing 5400 soldier's bodies, is near the Soldiers' Home. These and many other places were visited; but we must leave Washington at last, and were carried at express speed to the Shenandoah Junction. We are on our way to Harrisburg. Fortunately the day is bright and clear, and the sun not too warm, so that we can enjoy the charming scenery through which the railway passes, and we are interested in observing that the canal, in spite of the competition of the iron road, still keeps up navigation, and that strings of gaily-painted barges with the national flag are passing to and fro close at hand. The course of the Potomac, to which we now and then come near, is marked by the wooded heights which once formed the skirmish-ground of two great armies. It would not have been safe at one time for a man to have shown his head above the cutting of the canal, or to have ridden by the river-banks, for in all probability a Secesh bullet would have found him out or dismounted him, as there was fighting-ground all about; and the peaceful scene seemed strange to me when I contrasted it with the sight it presented as I saw it after the battle in which Senator Baker was killed and many Union men with him, and great gloom reigned at Washington—when General McClennan led all the troops that could be spared, who were pouring out in a long column on this road, and the country-side was alive with armed men in order to counteract the menaced invasion of Maryland. At the Shenandoah Junction, six miles west of Harper's Ferry, we halted for a while. It seemed to me as if it had not quite recovered from the ravages of war, and Harper's Ferry appeared as if the storm of battle that had passed over it—taken and retaken as it was so many times—had left an indelible mark of wreck and ruin about it. Nothing, however, can destroy the charm of the scenery of the beautiful valley in which the Potomac and the Shenandoah meet. We got out on the platform and walked a little way to look at the ruin of the Arsenal which was occupied by John Brown when he led his forlorn hope, "shouting the battle-cry of freedom," little deeming that the hills and valleys would re-echo with the hymn-song which so often heralded the Federal soldiers on their march to battle, to defeat or victory.
As we stood on the bridge surveying the scene, a decrepit and not very cleanly-looking old man, who was regaling himself with a use of tobacco of which the issues were visible around him, came up to have a look at the strangers. He knew every inch of the place; had been here all during the war. Sometimes the Secesh had it, and then the Federalists would drive them out; then the Confeds would take it, and so on. "There was pretty considerable fighting all round. See them hills? That one there had a Federal fort on top of it; that other one the Confeds used to hold." Why, he remembered old John Brown's scare as if it was yesterday. "Yes, sir! But they hanged him pretty smart! He and his people could make no fight of it when Uncle Sam's reg'lars came up." And in front of us were the walls of the burned armoury of the Government, and the name of the United States officer in command still visible over the doorway—the gaunt ruin, roofless, windowless, of a time which seemed so remote and which was not a generation gone by.
After our short stay there we went on to Hagerstown, where Colonel Kennedy, the President, and Judge Watts, one of the Directors, of the Cumberland Valley Railroad, joined us, after a divergence to the junction of the two rivers to get a sight of the country.
The Cumberland Valley is one of the most fruitful tracts in the United States. It presented in its substantial farmhouses, clean well-tilled fields and kempt fences, strong contrast to the untidy-looking farms in Maryland and Virginia on the road to Richmond; we heard that the soil had somewhat suffered from incessant cropping, and that the competition of the Western States is causing the cultivation of corn to be neglected. The towns appeared to be numerous and thriving, and the people well-to-do. It had been arranged that we should pay a visit on our way to a very interesting establishment, as it proved, at Fort Carlisle, and I give elsewhere a detailed account of what we saw in connection with a subject which appears to me to be of great, if somewhat sentimental, interest—the condition and future of the Indian race. The Duke's address to the Red children seemed to give them great satisfaction, and he said with truth that nothing we had seen since we had arrived in the United States interested us so much as the establishment where they were the objects of a philanthropic experiment, to which every one all over the world will, I am sure, wish success.
It was evening when the train reached the end of our day's journey, and the party drove in a shower of rain to their quarters at the hotel.
Harrisburg has apparently seen its best days without having ever witnessed very good ones, but our means of judging were meagre indeed. The weather was bad, and our visit was very brief. It must be understood that I write of places as I see or find them, and the contrast between Philadelphia and the capital of the State of Pennsylvania, as we beheld it in the drive from the station to our hotel, was very marked in favour of the former. The shops in the main street belonged to the old country rather than to the new, and there was an aspect of "want of flourishing," as a friend said, which was not in keeping with the surroundings. And yet when John Harris, after his rescue from the Indians who were about to torture him and did not, though they did not foresee that they were about to be disposed of without torture, founded the city, less than a hundred years ago, on the banks of the Susquehanna, he had a very fine eye for a situation, and had fair grounds for thinking he had done a very good thing. But why was it made the State capital in 1812? Surely Philadelphia even then deserved the honour. We were told we should have put up at the Lochiel House (something to do with Simon Cameron who lives here, I suppose), but we did not, and that which was selected for the party was not of the first or second class. The sewers of the city were open, or only partially covered. The rats which played about in view of our sitting-room window were of a size of which Harrisburg may be justly proud, and I observed from the windows of the hotel many fine animals come up to take the air and see what was going on, with the style of well-to-do citizens, meaning no harm and fearing none. They were, perhaps, a little too numerous for the comfort of nervous people, though I will not aver that there is not plenty for them to do. The market-place across the way was ancient and dilapidated, or, as it was of wood, delignified.
It was not till a year before the Civil War Harrisburg received a charter, and at the moment of our visit the population did not number 80,000. A State House and Library, a State Arsenal, a State Lunatic Asylum, a County Prison, Opera houses, Masonic Hall, churches, Harris Park and Cemetery, and great ironworks, all unvisited, but duly enumerated by citizens zealous of the honour of their city, haunted conscientious tourists as things which ought to be seen, but they were not in the programme—we could not find them in the bond—and so they were taken for granted; not so the substantial interviews which had to be attended to, and the arrangements for visiting the Baldwin Iron and Steel Works, and Colonel Long's farm at Middleton, which were to be taken on our way to New York.
On the 6th we left Harrisburg, at 9 o'clock in the morning, for New York, visiting the famous Iron Works on our way, and halting at Middleton to inspect the farm of Colonel Long, which is one of the sights of the country, and which all the agriculturalists of the party declared was an exceedingly well-managed display of agricultural skill; an admirable exhibition of what may be done in the States to emulate the best establishments of the old country. The produce of the farm was pronounced to be excellent, the fields clean and well apportioned, beautiful pasture for stock, and fine arable for various crops, but the result of conversation with Colonel Long led some of the party to the conclusion that a farmer with good land in England can, at present prices, hold his own with any farmer in the Eastern States. The most interesting fact connected with the investigation was the discovery that the cultivation of tobacco is making great way in Pennsylvania, and that wheat has been abundant in consequence of the impossibility of competing with the West. Heavy manuring is requisite; nevertheless large tracts of Pennsylvania are passing under cultivation for tobacco-growing, and are stated to produce a weed almost equal to the best Maryland or Virginia.
But the coal and iron and the manufactures of this favoured region must ensure it a long continuance of the extraordinary prosperity which was visible on all sides, if the asses in their fatness do not kick over the traces. For many miles of the country over which we travelled yesterday the storm of war had rolled heavily, and every town near at hand had some record of suffering or lucky escape from Lee's invading host. The Confederates had come within six miles of Harrisburg. Martinsburg, Frederic—in fact, every town near at hand had felt the hand of the South at its throat, till at Gettysburg the blow was struck which paralysed it for ever. At Carlisle one of our friends mentioned incidentally that his house had been "shelled by that confounded Fitzhugh Lee"—our travelling companion of a few days before. There were strong expressions uttered by others concerning the partition of Virginia and the State debt, but these were mysteries to us, and all we could see was that, in spite of past sufferings, there was now a vigorous, healthy, wealthy life in the land, of which the signs and tokens were visible as far as the eye could reach in our long day's travel. Our railway directors studied maps and asked questions and made notes indefatigably, and they no doubt comprehended the connections and arms of the railroads which were spread over the country—a mighty range, and all with a plan—but I cannot pretend to share any of their knowledge, and can only say that we had a very pleasant, if somewhat warm, journey to New York, which we reached at 4.30 o'clock. Here we found a new wonder awaiting us in the aspect of the Falls River boat, on which we embarked for Boston at one of the piers on the North River. It was the happy idea of Mr. Crosfield that we ought to leave the iron road for a few hours and take to the water, and for it and much besides the members of the party were indebted to him. The service of the steamboat line is admirable. To begin with, the steamers (of which there are two, the "Bristol" and "Providence") are floating palaces for King Populus, of such vast dimensions that we could scarcely "take in" all at once that in which we were to make our voyage as it lay at the pier; its bright white side towering far above the roof of the wharf shed, with tiers of windows lighted up as if en fête, like an old three-decker at the least. Our surprise did not diminish when we got on board and found ourselves in a vast sort of gilt and painted courtyard, surrounded by galleries with many hundreds of passengers—a band playing, electric lights, a book-stall, newspapers, a restaurant, hairdresser's establishment, boot-cleaning corner, bar and liquor saloon, hot baths, cold baths—I should not like to say what that marine monster did not contain. There were waiters in neat, clean dresses, in swarms, and clerks and officers of the service in much gold lace and brass buttons—formidable as admirals, and civil as dancing-masters. The sleeping-saloons were perfectly arranged; and when the dinner or supper bell rang, and the streams of people were set in motion, it was if some small city was on the tramp. The great creature was moving! Up went the vast walking-beam on high, with the polished piston smoothly gliding from its case, and then, trembling in every airy plank to the beat of the mighty paddles, the steamer backed off into the stream, and with that indescribable tumult of creaks, squeaks, rattles and clatters, which may be taken as the breathing of this sort of thing, set off on its way rejoicing as a giant to run its course, and far better able to do it. There was light enough for us to see the city of New York, and the forest of steeples and towers above the serried lines of illimitable roofs, the fringe of masts and chimneys on one side, and the interesting islands where the Law, Medicine, and Charity have their palaces—Penitentiaries, Hospitals, Asylums, Nurseries, Refuges—and where Crime, Smallpox, Typhus, Idiotcy, and incurable Disease hold their separate courts in granite cells, and the Brooklyn shore, as the steamer threaded her way through the ruck of tugs, flats, coasters, ferry-boats, and steamers, big and little, to the great boil of waters well-named Hell Gate, in Long Island Sound—a veritable Maelstrom, which the engineers are blasting, boring, and blowing up and down as hard as they can. As we bore down the adverse fury of the swirling tideway with our irresistible wheels, the mighty vessel trembled with the strain, but we prevailed, and went through the Gate past the dredges, which were shovelling up the rocks from the bottom, and had time to enjoy the scenery of Long Island glorified by a fine sunset, ere darkness shut out all but the lights on shore, and those which marked out what to seek and avoid for the toiler on the seas. The course of the steamer for the greater part of the night lay in tranquil waters, for Long Island was on our right, and on our left was the shore of Connecticut; but after midnight I awoke, and had no doubt as to what the wild waves were saying, and looking out of my window saw a confused sea, to the lively forces of which our steamer was making unmistakable submission. A less confidence-inspiring craft for rough weather than our palace I thought I never had been in, and I was not dissatisfied when the trial of her powers was at an end, and the tyranny of the seas was overpast as we approached Newport and got under the shelter of Martha's Vineyard at some early hour in the morning. Says I to a nautical gentleman on the staff of the noble ship, "Would she cross the Atlantic, do you think?" "Certainly," quoth he, "if it wasn't bad weather." "Well! but how would she do in a gale?" "It would just be as well not to try, but if we could keep her head right to it there would not be much harm—no forcing, though—no, sir!" At Newport there was a great exodus of passengers and baggage about 3 o'clock, and some two hours later the steamer, passing up Narraganset Bay, arrived at Fall River, where we landed, and took our places in a train of the Old Colony Railroad for Boston. Fall River, which one might take to be a cascading stream, turned out to be an enormous manufacturing town of some 50,000 people, all factories, chimneys, and storehouses, and what we saw of Massachusetts as we ran through it gave us a higher idea of its commercial activity and manufacturing industry than of its natural advantages. I cannot say how many towns of note we skirted or ran through in our two hours' journey—glimpses of magazines, stores, warehouses, smoke-stacks, staring placards at intervals here and there, were all we knew of them; but the land did not seem rich nor the scenery attractive, and yet there are good crops to be had, and fruit is abundant and excellent. There is a long hard winter and an ardent summer here, and some of the weaker vessels among the Pilgrim Fathers (and mothers) must have often wished themselves back in the clammy East Countree on the German Ocean, or in their foster-mother Holland, when, like so many Calibans (for conscience' sake), they were persecuted by Indians, Witches, Quakers, and the climate, in the days before they were strong enough to persecute in their turn, and so reconcile themselves to atmospheric vicissitudes. Among our fellow-passengers in the "Gallia" was Mr. Washburn, ex-Governor of the State, and one of a very eminent band of brothers who have risen to deserved distinction in America, and to his kind offices were the Duke of Sutherland and his friends indebted for the graceful empressement of the leading men of Boston to do the honours of their city. On our arrival at the terminus we found every preparation had been made for our reception, and several gentlemen were in attendance to meet the Duke on the platform. Well-appointed carriages whirled the party off to one of the finest hotels in the world—"The Brunswick"—and not only that, but one of the most comfortable. How these old names hold! It is a long time since "Braunschweig" had aught to do with the "old Colony"—some time since the House of Hanover (from which we parted company in 1866) has had any relation to Massachusetts. There may be some good reason for the appellation of our excellent hostelry—it is quite enough to say it could not be sweeter or neater with any other name, and it made us reflect with some feelings of humiliation on the sort of accommodation an American would find in a large town in England till the recent improvements in the establishments which have chiefly sprung out of the enterprises of the great railways. The British colours floated above the building beside the Stars and Stripes—a compliment which was very much appreciated; and the good Bostonians allowed us fair time for breakfast and a little unpacking and settling down before they came to take the party in charge and show them over their noble city. Mr. Rice, formerly Governor of the State, Mr. Fitz, President of the Board of Trade, Mr. Beard, Collector of the Port, Alderman O'Brien, came as a committee to tender us all the civilities, and many more than we could accept, and had a programme, which even their kindness could not render of easy accomplishment, for the disposal of our time. First there was a long drive through the principal quarters of the town—innumerable phœnixes in marble, granite, iron, and brick, reared out of the ashes of the Great Fire nine years ago—Sears, Brewer, Franklin, Rialto, Cathedral and other Buildings, and monumental insurance offices and stores. Then there is a stately quarter built on land where was once water—on an artificial foundation made by filling up part of a shallow arm of the harbour called Back Bay. One peculiarity about the city is the localisation of trades and professions. If I had not seen their names on the brightest brass plates in the clearest of engraving, I could not have believed there were so many doctors and surgeons in any one city in the world. Surely they must practise on one another? They were in rows up and down long streets. And yet the citizens and citizenesses did not look unhealthy—rather otherwise—and the younger people mounted on street skates were portentously active on the pavements—pretty well-dressed little ladies doing the pas des patineurs with all their might, and sweeping resistlessly over the flags on their way from school. I am not going to describe Boston. There is a refrain in my ears, "All this was built since the fire!" I can only say the fire was a great regenerator. I could understand why Boston people are proud of their work, and I could look up at Bunker Hill without any sense of shame, as I beheld such a wonderful display of energy and progress in the fair city, with its monuments, statues, parks, public buildings, churches, and on the sea furrowed by keels and studded with sunny canvas. We were taken out on that same sea. The Collector, Mr. Beard, one of the most courteous of men, had the Government Revenue Cruiser prepared for a cruise in the harbour, and we examined the Navy Yard, the wharves, and the extension works, the forts, &c., with an interest which was enhanced by the intelligent explanations of our guides, varied with little discussions about Free Trade and Protection, the future of Boston, projected improvements, and general conversation, till it was time to return to land and finish with an inspection of more "objects" on shore. And then, to end the work of the day, there was an "informal dinner" at the Brunswick, to which the Duke and his friends were bidden without yea or nay—"it was quite informal." I presume that means, in Boston, an elaborate banquet. We were told, however, that it merely meant that we were to dress as we pleased, and that there were to be no set speeches. Alderman O'Brien presided; Governor Rice, Mr. Beard, Mr. Choate, President of the Old Colony Railroad, Genl. Wilson, President of the New York and North-Eastern Railroad, Mr. E. C. Fitz, Mr. Sears, Mr. Spaulding, Mr. Phillips, Aldermen Whitten, Haldemann, Slade, Curtis, Frost, Caldwell, &c., were our hosts, and our party was sandwiched pleasantly between our American friends—all point de vice—evening dress—flowers in buttonholes, flowers on the table, but "no formality." And then, just by way of an exception, Alderman O'Brien to do honour to the occasion, with a facility which showed that he had not lost the potestas loquendi attributed to his race, made an "informal" speech in proposing "informally" the health of the Duke, who made an informal reply, and from that time till the company broke up, towards midnight, there was a succession of toasts, speeches, speeches and toasts, till every man had had his turn at one and the other, and informality could do no more with a very pleasant evening. There was a good deal of railway talk, in which prophecy was not neglected. It so happened that among the guests or hosts was a gentleman whom I had met at the St. Patrick's dinner, New York, in 1861, and we had an agreeable conversation respecting the events of that time. I could not help thinking how very much changed was the tone in which slavery was discussed then from that in which it is now mentioned. On that occasion the American gentleman (one of the first men in New York, and by no means Irish except in name and descent) inveighed against Boston with something like ferocity. He declared that Mr. George Thompson, who had lectured on slavery long ago, was the most diabolical scoundrel who ever trod the earth, that the people of Boston ought to have hanged or burned him and Garrison and his accomplices in 1835, as the authors of the fearful war which was inevitable—the sure precursor of the disruption of the Union—for which Boston, represented by Mr. Sumner, was responsible, and he indignantly denounced the Bostonians—they who had fattened on the slave-trade and on the South—for their anti-slavery proclivities. There are not many who hold such opinions now. Bristol and Liverpool forget they ever made money out of "black ivory," and Boston has an equal right to take its share of the waters of Lethe. And so to bed.
May 8th.—By the kindness of Mr. Sears, seats were obtained for the whole party at the morning service in Trinity Church, a vast and highly ornate structure, of fine proportions externally, alight with gilding, profuse in mosaic, lavish in stained glass, and exquisite woodwork inside; a very noble temple, in good truth, if somewhat theatrical in effect, Romish, or more correctly Byzantine, producing the same sort of feeling that a Russian or Greek Church does on strangers not to the manner born; but still grand, rich, and luxurious. And the congregation, which filled every part of the sacred edifice, was suitable unto it. It was obviously composed of the great ones of the city—the cream of the Episcopalian flock—satined, silked, fine feathered, Paris bonneted, sleek hatted, glisteningly black, delicately perfumed—a very goodly company. The musical part of the service was evidently what might be called a feature of the attractions, though they be considered to culminate in the person of the pastor of the fold. The organ, an instrument of extraordinary size, power, and richness, was moved by skilful fingers to interpret passages which led one to imagine that the selector had acted on John Wesley's advice, "not to let the Evil one have all the good music to himself," and that he had invaded the repertoires of secular enjoyment in that way, and the choir delivered psalm and hymn with an artistic finish which at once gave rise to suspicions that it was not "wild warbling nature all beyond the reach of art." "Professional," I asked on a proper opportunity; "is it not?" "Not all; the tenor and the bass are, I think, and one or two others, perhaps." Well, the harmony was full and fine, and I preferred it to the unassisted efforts in that matter of rural religionists. It is mainly to the impetus of the personal character of the Rev. Phillips Brooks that the erection of this magnificent edifice and the maintenance of the service in such Christian state are due. The Book of Common Prayer was used with trifling variations—some small sacrifices to prudery or decency, or whatever words you will array them in; but to me the most interesting portion of the service was the part in it of the pastor—a man of great corpulence and stature, with a massive head cast in a mould to match, and features with a resemblance to those of Sydney Smith, or perhaps more nearly those of Charles James Fox. He was attired in black silk gown and bands, but did not, I think, show any academic badge. The sermon, which had for its text "Bow down the heavens, O Lord! touch the mountains, and they shall smoke!" delivered with extraordinary rapidity—sometimes, in fact, approaching to the verge of jumble—flowed on in a stream of language, often beautiful and occasionally grand, with a great clatter of metaphor, and a rolling noise of poetical images of a very pleasing character, for a long half-hour or more, without causing any desire for the preacher to desist; and indeed the ingenuity with which he illustrated and dragged in his unpromising text occasioned a series of intellectual shocks. The influence of Mr. Brooks must be, I think, as beneficial as it is powerful, and he has at all events given the world a splendid demonstration of what can be done by the voluntary principle in a wealthy democracy. It was not to his detriment, in the eyes of his stern Republican flock, that, on the occasion of a recent visit to Europe, he was received with favour in high places; or that "Your Queen Victoria had him to stay with her at Windsor Palace."
I was doomed to a great disappointment to-day after our return from church. A little excursion had been planned for the party by Mr. Sears to visit Harvard University and a pilgrimage to Longfellow, at Cambridge, and I was up in my room waiting for a summons to join the party, when it was said by some one he believed I had gone out, or would not go, and so they drove out without me, and I "was left lamenting." Had I been a revengeful person, I might have taken pleasure in the thought that they had an utterly abominable drive, for there was a bitter wind and clouds of the finest and most choking dust, but I was very sorry indeed. The "old man eloquent" was delighted to welcome the Duke, whom, as a boy, he remembered well at the time of his lengthened visit to England, when he was a frequent and honoured guest at Stafford House, where he was held in great esteem by the gracious lady who presided. He was courteous to all the other visitors; but they did not place a heavy tax on his patience, for they had to go over Harvard, where they were received by some of the authorities and conducted over the University, and then the inevitable drive through the city had to be accomplished. As for me, despite the dust and wind, I walked through some of the staid, discreet, and sombre streets and squares of opulent merchantdom, all very quiet and decorous, with fair faces at the windows, and groups of prettily dressed children in the balconies, and went to the Somerset Club and to the Union Club, which had extended their courtesies to the strangers, and left cards. I had the fortune to foregather for a while with Mr. L. Curtis, an old acquaintance of the time of the Prussian occupation of Versailles, when his venerable father—a veteran of the United States navy—and family, were caught there by the flood of invaders, as they were about to escape from Paris. We had an early dinner, and then had to prepare for another flitting, about which some of us were much exercised, for it was to take us back to New York again! I must confess to a sense of shame at such a hurried visit to the "hubbiest" of American cities. The excuse was, that there was an imperious desire on the part of our directors to see the Hudson River Line, and Albany, the capital of the State of New York, and so at 10 P.M. we were "all on board" and rattling in a Wagner palace-car over rather a rough line down South; needless to say, we did not see much of the country, though it was not easy to sleep, owing to the jumpiness of the carriages.
May 9th.—Next morning before 6 o'clock, after a journey of 230 miles, we were delivered on the platform of the station in New York. All our roads lead to it apparently! We walked through the silent streets to Sherwood House, in Fifth Avenue, where a welcome and excellent breakfast had been ordered. The arrangements, the air, and the perfect repose of the place produced a most agreeable impression. The landlord informed us that it was almost exclusively frequented as a family hotel, and that when the New York season was over he closed his doors, shut up his windows, and went off for his holiday. At 9.30 A.M. we were on our way to Albany accompanied by Mr. Vanderbilt, junior, and several of the directors of the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad Company. Americans are justly proud of the Hudson; it delights the eye of every traveller, and in some respects, particularly in the beauty of the autumn foliage, it excels the most famous rivers of Europe. All the more ought they to wage war against the disgusting outrages on the face of nature which are permitted to disfigure its banks. The very stones prate of the whereabouts of some loathsome quack or some ludicrous nostrum, and aggravating repetitions of the same names and specifics, painted in staring colours, mile after mile, force the philanthropic traveller to sigh for a measure of dynamite, and to thirst for the ruin of the miscreants who so disturb his peace. The Hudson river-side close to the capital is not very inviting; the works of the Elevated Railway, which is preparing for a tremendous spring over its Harlem tributary, do not appeal to one's sense of the beautiful; and a squatter population in what one of my friends called "very squattery shanties" does not prepare the traveller for the long stretch of maisons de plaisance, country houses, airy villages, and flourishing townlets which greet his eye as the train speeds in close to the edge of the left, or east, bank. The sheer, precipitous downfall of rock, at the opposite side, called the Palisades, soon comes in view. It may be dimly thought out that the appearance of the trap rock, which is ranged in perpendicular columns, suggested the name. The formation continues for nearly twenty miles, at an elevation of from 200 to 300 feet, and the summit is fringed with trees. Needless to say, with such a city as New York below, and with densely populated banks above, the broad sweeps of the beautiful Hudson displayed an infinity of navigating craft—steamers, ships, trim coasters, fishing-boats, net-poles and buoys near the banks marked the haunts of the much-prized and inexhaustible shad.
There is much of the interest of American history connected with the Hudson, and there is the wider interest of all English-speaking races attached to it by the associations with the scenery of Washington Irving and his charming creations. An Englishman can forgive the death of André for the sake of Sunnyside and Tarrytown. We pass the Convent of the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, who would have been roused out pretty quickly by the Pilgrim Fathers and their children—the wide expanse of the Tappan Zee, where Henry Hudson's galliots found great comfort and much astonished the Red-man—"Sing Sing"; the vast state prison, connected in my mind with a joke, too good to be lost, of the time of the (United States) civil war. It was made à propos of a certain Prince of Salm-Salm, who came to offer his sword to the Federal Government at Washington. His title puzzled Mr. Seward. "Psalm-Psalm!" he exclaimed. "Where on earth does he come from, I wonder." "Very probably from 'Sing Sing,'" replied the person whom he addressed. But the gallant German Prince, it needs not to be said, was a soldier of unblemished name and honour.
The Croton Aqueduct, at the other side, which supplies New York, forty miles away, with water, commences at the lake some miles higher up than the station, and we were obliged to hear that the quality of its water was not strained, and that it needed boiling; but that may be a calumny, and I do not think any of us made even one trial to disprove the fact. The scenery beyond Peekskill, at the stretch of river called the Highlands, made me make a mental vow, which will, I fear, never be kept, that I would return and vegetate in one of the hotels of which we caught glimpses in the trees on the slopes of the mountains, which in grand and varied outlines tower over the stream.
Probably since its creation, in no two hundred and seventy years which have rolled over the world has a greater change been effected in the condition of a country than that which has taken place on the banks of the Hudson since the intrepid and unfortunate Englishman from whom it derives its name explored its waters and anchored opposite Pigskill. "This is a very good land to fall in with, a pleasant land to see," he says, under the date of September 2nd, 1609, "the waters abound with salmons, mullets and rayes, very great. The people of the country came aboard of us, seeming very glad of our coming, and brought green tobacco and gave us of it for knives and beads. They go in loose deer-skins, well dressed, and mantles of feathers, skins and divers sort of good furs. They have yellow copper, and use red copper tobacco pipes." And when his men landed he says they found "great store of men, women and children, and good oysters, grapes and pumpkins, beaver and other skins." Then out of the grossness of the time and of the race the Whites wrought the great wrong which, ever continuing, has marked the course of civilisation on their side and of degradation on that of the Red men. Captain Waymouth, who had been on the coast four or five years before, kidnapped natives as a matter of course. Verazzano, the Italian, who really discovered the Hudson eighty-five years before "Hendrick" entered it, had also kidnapped natives, but Hudson's men made them drunk, and the memory of the carouse is still perpetuated, they say, in the word Manhattan.[7] On the shores of this river, now so populous with many towns and villages and joyous country seats, there is not a trace of the Red man, and at West Point there is the great Military Academy for the education of officers whose principal military service will probably consist in the extermination of the few Red men left within the borders of the Great Republic, thousands of miles to the west.
There was but a glimpse of West Point as the train flew past. Places less known to fame, or to us, were seen and carried off down the river ere we could well learn their names and the number of the population; but Newburgh fixed itself on my notes, and Poughkeepsie on my memory; for I saw on the platform of the last-named station the wisest-looking woman I ever beheld. I was informed she was a famous Professor at Vassar College, where young ladies are fitted to be the mothers of heroes by a long course of study—a prodigy of learning, and especially versed in dangerous isms and ologies—so men told me. She had curls, steel-like and lustrous, "an eye like Mars to threaten and command," scarce adumbrated by the light-blue glasses of a pair of spectacles, a Roman nose, and straight-cut lips, and wore a severely classical garment which seemed to have been cut out of Minerva's peplum, and as she moved I expected to hear the clatter of armour beneath her surcoat of lutestring. And yet she was single!
But there is Albany at last—Queen of the Hudson—gazing up admiringly on its crowning glory, the Capitol, and there we prepare to descend, as we are expected to get out for a short visit. Governor Cornell and some of the State and Municipal authorities were waiting on the platform to receive the Duke of Sutherland, and carriages were drawn up outside for the party, in which we were speedily whisked through the streets of the ancient Capital of the State of New York, up to its principal pride and ornament. We were led by Governor Cornell over the Capitol, containing within its walls all the departments and offices of state, executive and administrative, of the State of New York. I was, I confess, struck with astonishment at the enormous size, the vast pretensions, and the profuse expenditure evinced by the work on the unfinished building, which must be more regarded as a monument of liberal outlay than as an exhibition of perfect taste. I was not, however, filled with the burning indignation which animates the diatribes of a recent writer in the 'North American Review.' "Every patriotic son of the Empire State," says the reviewer, "should go on an expiatory pilgrimage, and pass penitential hours in gazing upon the immeasurable iniquities of the Capitol. Whenever I have the pleasure of strolling about beautiful Albany, I am drawn to that accursed and shameful heap of spoil as irresistibly as a floating spar is drawn to a dirty iceberg. Two millions were shot into the cellar, and its ultimate cost can only be conjectured. The mere interest of the money wasted on this unspeakable pile of stone, which it will require two thousand tons of coal a year to keep warm, would give the city of New York clean streets for ever." Still, it is grandiose in its way, rich in decoration, and will probably be commodious.
The State Capital has for some time been rather notorious in the matter of corruption. Let me not be misunderstood. I do not aver that the bankers, gentry, merchants, and people of New York State en bloc are corrupt. But it is quite certain that there has been for years established a caucus of wire-pullers at Albany, who influence or profess to influence the votes of the legislature or members of the legislature by the use of money. The community of the Empire City, at the time of our visit, was distracted by the contentions of rival parties, which it would be almost impious in me to attempt to analyse, but as far as we could judge from the accounts in the papers the newly elected mayor, Mr. Grace, a young Irishman who had acquired a considerable fortune in South America, was conducting an arduous investigation into abuses in the matter of street cleaning, police work, and public contracts generally, which had grown up under his predecessors, from which good results were expected by one set of critics, and nothing but evil by an opposite party. "The Augean stable," shouted some, "was to be cleansed out thoroughly." "This," said others, "is but a desperate rush of a new set of people on the public purse." Above these cries was to be heard the muttering of the thunderstorm which was so soon to burst over the whole of the Union—the great Roscoe Conkling and Platt controversy.
The train had travelled over the 143 miles of rail at a rate of 35 miles an hour, and we had yet a long way to go before we reached Montreal, and so we were obliged to return to the station, where Governor Cornell, and the courteous gentlemen who had assisted him in entertaining the visitors, took their leave, and at 2.30 our journey was resumed towards the Canadian frontier. The pleasure with which we might have gazed on the delightful scenery through which the railroad runs, skirting Lake Champlain, and the interest we felt in the scenes which Cooper's novels had made familiar, were marred by the sultry heat. We were in a furnace—a heat-wave in which we were like to drown. The air was thunderous, but the thunder came not. "Pity 'tis, and pity 'tis 'tis true" that in such a condition of body no scenery can wean a man from the contemplation of his suffering—for "who can bear a fire in his hand by thinking of the frosty Caucasus?"—or looking at the green mountains of Vermont, or the slopes of the Adirondacks? I was not treated with even moderate civility when I tried to get up a little enthusiasm about Fort Ticonderaga, and the name of Plattsburg produced no impression on the perspiring pilgrims; but, truth to tell, perhaps there were few among us who had ever heard of Sir G. Prevost's defeat, and of the signal victory of the Americans; for, as a rule, we are not accurately instructed in the history of our reverses. And yet the region around was almost as rich in historic memories of the great struggle between the French and the English, and their Continental auxiliaries—between French Indians and English Indians—between the English and the Americans in the two wars—as it was in natural beauty. But we did wake up a little, for the approach of evening had wasted the sultry fires of the day, when, shortly after leaving Rouse's Point, we heard a ringing cheer, and an attempt at "God Save the Queen," and, looking out, saw a small crowd, and two British ensigns waving welcome. We were in the Dominion of Canada.
Montreal—Quebec—Niagara—Toronto.
Although the hotels we had visited had prepared us for a good deal of magnificence in upholstery, the rooms of the Windsor at Montreal fairly astonished us. There is nothing in the hotel way in London comparable to the house, except perhaps the Grand at Charing Cross, and if adjectives must be used, I could say the Windsor was the grander of the two. Our rooms were almost too beautiful. The Duke's room was robed in purple satin. Lord Stafford was lodged in a bridal suite, decked in Star of India blue satin, with doves and cupids all over the apartments generally. My bedroom was an arrangement in delicately flowered amber satin. I hope Montreal will live up to the Windsor Hotel.
How miserably small this world is becoming. "Ruling the roast" in the banqueting rooms of the hotel was O'Hara, haply descendant of a kingly race (for, as O'Connell declared long ago, "most of the descendants of Irish kings are engaged on the coal quay; and when they're not there, they generally don't make so much"), but certainly for years the trusted aide-de-camp in personal service to Archbishop Whately and to Lord Strathnairn; at least, if he was not, I am not to blame for this averment.
May 10th.—At 11 o'clock, Mr. Hickson, Manager of the Trunk Railway, the Mayor of Montreal, and many irresistible citizens, came to the hotel, and carried off the Duke and some of his friends in carriages to visit the Victoria Bridge, and other objects of attraction; among which, of course, was the hill above the city, whence a very fine view can be obtained in good weather. But this day was not one favourable to sight-seeing. It rained in torrents in the early morning, and there was, moreover, an exceedingly dense mist. Some of us were a little indisposed. Perhaps the incessant motion by rail and by wheel, and the agitated existence which it had been our lot to lead since our arrival, had something to do with it; so it was that several of the party preferred to remain in the seclusion of their rooms till lunch-time and later, when they were tempted to try the St. James's Club, of which they had been made honorary members.
Ay de mi! How many years is it since I resigned myself doubtingly, but as it seemed necessarily, to the acceptance of Free Trade as the one thing in economics needful for the world. And now I am in a dominion where the doctrine is regarded as a melancholy heresy, and its professors as all but——. "But for protection, Sir," shouted out a vigorous Scotchman, full of figures and faith, "I tell you there would have been no manufactures in Canada; and more, there would have been no population to work our fields! In protection lies our only chance of successful struggle with the States." "Don't go away with that ideey!" exclaims another Scotch philosopher. "I can show you to a dee-monstration that Canady wad bee in a far finer pos-eeshun but for protection, than she has at this pree-sent." Between Canada and the United States there must always be, in all probability, a keen competition in bidding for the traffic of the great quantities of produce which pass down from the upper lakes to the sea. It was natural that we should hear a good deal about a question of very great importance to the well-being of both countries—the water communications from the North-west. There has been a discussion going on, too, respecting the possibility of sending cargoes down the lakes without transhipment, and so out to sea and to Europe; but it is found, practically, that the cargo must be transhipped. The question arises where that operation is best performed. The Welland Canal Company is, at the present moment, about being enlarged; but the shipbuilders on the upper lakes are enlarging their ships too, so that the lakes are covered with craft which could not enter the canal. Grain is carried to Buffalo and the Erie Canal in very large ships which cannot navigate the Welland; and the extra expense of transhipping from these large bottoms is more than compensated by the farming of the grain and other advantages at Buffalo. The Canadian Government have reduced their tolls, and have exhibited an anxiety which is too well justified for their share of the trade. When they ask, however, for the fulfilment of the Treaty of Washington, by which they are entitled to "the freedom of the canals of the United States," they are met with the mocking rejoinder that the United States Government has no power to make the State of New York respect Federal treaties, and that they cannot compel any State in the Union to open its waterways free to foreigners. The solution of many of the contentions between Americans and Canadians, however, may possibly prove to be found in the Mississippi, where barges now are finding their way down to New Orleans, at an average in nine days, loaded with corn, which can be brought from St. Louis for 6 cents, while it costs 22 cents and upwards to carry corn from Chicago to New York. The people of Chicago start at once to open a canal from Rock Island on the Mississippi to Hennepin on the river Illinois; and no doubt each move on one side will be met by a counter-move on the other, and the rivalry between Canada and the United States will be repeated and accentuated in the efforts of the great cities like Buffalo, Cleveland, Toledo, Chicago, St. Louis, &c., south of the lakes, to secure as much as possible of the carrying trade, the through traffic, and the consequent profits. I escaped eventually from the clangor virorum, and had a stroll through the town with Lord Stafford, in the course of which I dropped in on my old quarters at the "St. Lawrence," where the host Hogan, racy of the soil, and full of sport, made me doubt if twenty years could have passed since Augustus Anson and I had been his guests. He was charged with reminiscences, and among them recent memories, solidified in photographs, of an excursion for fishing and other purposes, in which Lord "Bewfore"—who was, I believe, his Grace of Beaufort—was introduced. If any one needs a good introduction to fish and hunt in Montreal, I recommend Mr. Hogan with modest confidence.
After an early dinner, we drove to the quay, where the steamer "Montreal" was prepared for all comers, and after some delay, made up her (or its) mind to start for Quebec. It is a mistake to go down the river at this time of year in the hope of enjoying the scenery. Darkness set in on the river very soon after we embarked, and there were no sights on shore to look at. Now and then the local authorities pointed out to us sites of towns, and occasionally through the trees we caught a glimmer of fire, where little circles of bright light dotted the clouds, and indicated the hamlets. On board the steamer there was a senator of a very pronounced national colour, or stripe, or school, whatever the term may be, who considered that the politics of the world revolved round the narrow area in which, according to him, Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Parnell were contending for mastery; and it was not difficult to discover on which side he thought right, if not might, was placed. As he was speaking, there came from the depths between decks a strain of high-pitched speech in French, interrupted by shouts of laughter, and descending the companion to ascertain the cause, I perceived an Indian—charged, I am sorry to say, with the fire-water of the pale-faces—haranguing the passengers on the miseries and misfortunes of his race with great volubility—nay, eloquence. Whenever he made a good hit the Canadians laughed, but when one of the ship's officers seized the orator by the arm and led him away, it was plain the white man had the best of the argument. Poor wretch! Demosthenes could not save Athens from the Macedonian.
By selecting the night steamer from Montreal to Quebec, however, we succeeded in preventing an undue strain on our faculties in the way of admiring scenery. What sights we escaped! what objects we shunned! All night through there were stoppages at unknown stations. The people trooped in and trooped out, and doors were banged on board. To sleep was not facile. And so it was that it was not with clear, composed minds we awoke on the morning of May 11th, just as the bluffs of Quebec were looming in the distance, and in an hour more were preparing to grapple with the wharf under the Citadel, where the Governor-General was already visible waiting, with a moderate cortege, to receive his uncle. There was something else waiting for us too! Scarcely had we got into the open carriages ere a deluge of rain—just as if the St. Lawrence was tumbling out of the skies—began to fall, and, as the ascent to the Citadel is at an angle of 45 degrees or thereabouts, it was not possible to evade the tornado by rapid driving. So we climbed the hill in a waterspout, and were right glad to get under the shelter of the hospitable roof of the Queen's Legate in her good Dominion of Canada. The fires in our rooms were felt to be needed even this 11th of May.
The Citadel is now but an historic site, and has no potency as a fortified place, but Lord Lorne has done much to make the quarters a little better than the rough barrack they formerly were and to improve the accommodation. The apartments are comfortable, absolutely luxurious in their fittings compared with the style of former days, and there are evidences of refined taste in the reception-rooms, which remind one of the illustrious lady whose temporary absence when we were in Canada was much regretted, and whose presence when she returns will be hailed with delight.
When I was last here, Quebec had all the appearance of a large garrison town. It was a time of trouble. I think two battalions of Guards, a couple of regiments of foot, and a strong force of artillery were quartered in and about the city, and the citadel and forts were militarily occupied. The cities of Canada were filled with refugees from the northern States, valiant men and fair women, soldiers like Magruder, and gentlemen like Corbin, whose souls were with the South. They were waiting for the hour of vengeance and victory, for a change in the tide; and they raged exceedingly against the Federals, and reviled Lincoln and Seward and all their ways with the animosity which is engendered by civil war. Americans in Canada spoke more bitter things of the American Government in our common English tongue at that time than were ever perhaps said or written by any people in the world. Now all is changed; the refugees have disappeared, not a single red-coat is to be seen. I am told that there is much to regret in the policy which has handed over the defences of Canada so entirely to the Canadians, and that no one is pleased, but of this I know nothing. The only people who are said to be happy at the withdrawal of the English are the young Canadian gentlemen of French race, who thought that the red-coats were in too much favour at balls and parties, and who are not sorry to be rid of such formidable rivals. But there is a very large and well-appointed force in the Dominion—Canada has an army of her own to be proud of. The Canadian artillery whom I saw could not be distinguished without a very close inspection from the Royal Artillery, and a more serviceable, soldierly-looking detachment than that which presented arms to the Governor-General as he passed to-day, and which paraded on the ground of the Citadel later on, I never beheld. In the forenoon the Duke went out with the Governor to visit the Lieutenant-Governor, M. Robitaille, and when the rain ceased I went down, literally down—and rambled about the old city, which seemed more French and less English than ever. There was a dinner party in the evening, at which the Lieutenant-Governor, the members of the Dominion Government, and as many as the table could hold of distinguished persons and their wives who were in Quebec, were present. And then came a reception, at which as many as could possibly be got into the rather limited suite of rooms came to pay their respects to his Excellency and to see the Duke.