around, it has lost in a great measure that peculiarity. There is now but little done in that way, though it is still recorded in italics among its regulations, that “every student is expected to labour three hours a day at some agricultural or mechanical business.” “While the leading aim of this regulation,” it is added, “is to promote health and vigour of both body and mind, compensation is received according to the value of the labour.”
No charge is made for tuition. Rooms are fully furnished and rented at 5 dollars a year from each student. The incidental expenses, including fuel and light for public rooms, ringing the bell, and sweeping, are 5 dollars more. The room-rent and incidental bill are paid in advance. For the aid of indigent students funds are collected annually, by means of which board is furnished to such gratuitously. To those who receive no assistance from the funds, the price of board is about 90 cents a week. The cost of fuel and lights for each student, in his own room, will average from 8 to 12 dollars a year. Thus the entire expense to a young man for a whole term of nine months is only from 50 to 60 dollars, or from 10 to 12 guineas of our money.
“The results of these thirteen years of labour,” say the trustees in a document recently issued, “considering the difficulties attending the establishment of such an institution in a new country, amid a population as yet unassimilated in feelings and habits, and whose schools, academies, and colleges are of comparatively recent origin, are indeed highly encouraging. The friends of the institution, and of religion and learning generally, thankful for what has already been accomplished, will feel encouraged to do whatever may be necessary for the highest efficiency of the seminary; and will give their prayers that the labours of the 300 young men, who have enjoyed or now enjoy its advantages,” (there being about 50 then in the house,) “may be abundantly blessed by the Head of the Church.”
Lane Seminary is a valuable and catholic institution. At their entrance, the students have to subscribe to no confession of faith; and, when they have completed their curriculum, they are at perfect liberty to exercise their ministry among whatever denomination they please. Congregational as well as Presbyterial Churches obtain pastors from this “school of the prophets.”
The “Faculty” at present consists of the Rev. Lyman Beecher, D.D., President, and Professor of Theology; the Rev. Calvin E. Stowe, D.D., Professor of Biblical Literature, and Lecturer on Church History; and the Rev. D. Howe Allen, Professor of Sacred Rhetoric and Pastoral Theology, and Lecturer on Church Polity.
Nothing struck me more than the feeling of equality that seemed to subsist between students and professors. The latter, in speaking to or of any of the former, would generally say “Brother” So-and-so. The students also, in their bearing towards the professors, seemed each to say, “I am as good a man as you are.” This is the genius of America. You meet it everywhere. There man is man (except his skin be black), and he expects to be treated as such. Respect to superiors is not among the maxims of our Transatlantic brethren. The organ of veneration is, perhaps, imperfectly developed.
LETTER XIX.
A Sabbath at Cincinnati–The Second Presbyterian Church–Mutilation of a Popular Hymn–The Rushing Habit–A wrong “Guess”–A German Sunday-School–Visit to a Church of Coloured People–Engagement at the Welsh “Church”–Monthly Concert–The Medical College of Ohio–Tea at the House of a Coloured Minister.
On the previous Friday, Professor Allen called to request me to preach in his stead at the Second Presbyterian Church on Sunday morning, the 28th of February, as he had to go some twenty miles into the country to “assist at a revival.” I agreed to do so. Sunday morning was excessively cold, with a heavy fall of snow. On arriving at the “church,” I found there was no vestry. Indeed, a vestry, as a private room for the minister, is seldom found in America. The places are exceedingly neat and comfortable, but they want _that_ convenience. I had therefore to go with my hat and top-coat, covered with snow, right into the pulpit. This church outside is a noble-looking building, with massive pillars in front, and a bell-tower containing a town-clock; but the interior seemed comparatively small. It had a gallery at one end, which held only the singers and the organ. The seats below were not more than one-third full. Dr. Beecher ministered in this place for about ten years. It was now without a pastor, but was temporarily supplied by Professor Allen. The congregation was far more decorous and attentive than those in New Orleans. After the introductory service, and while the hymn before sermon was being sung, a man came trudging down the aisle, bearing an immense scuttle full of coals to supply the stoves. How easy it would have been before service to place a box of fuel in the vicinity of each stove, and thereby avoid this unseemly bustle! But in the singing of the hymn, I found something to surprise and offend me even more than the coal-scuttle. The hymn was–
“O’er the gloomy hills of darkness,” &c.
I had selected it myself; but when I got to the second verse, where I had expected to find
“Let the Indian, let the negro,
Let the rude barbarian see,” &c.,
lo! “the Indian.” and “the negro” had vanished, and
“Let the dark benighted pagan”
was substituted. A wretched alteration,–as feeble and tautological in effect as it is suspicious in design. The altered reading, I learned, prevails universally in America, except in the _original_ version used by the Welsh congregations. Slave-holders, and the abettors of that horrid system which makes it a crime to teach a negro to read the Word of God, felt perhaps that they could not devoutly and consistently sing
“Let the Indian, let the negro,” &c.
This church, I heard, was more polluted with a pro-slavery feeling than any other in Cincinnati of the same denomination,–a circumstance which, I believe, had something to do with Dr. Beecher’s resignation of the pastorate.
At the close of the sermon, having pronounced the benediction, I engaged, according to our English custom, in a short act of private devotion. When I raised my head and opened my eyes, the very last man of the congregation was actually making his exit through the doorway; and it was quite as much as I could manage to put on my top-coat and gloves and reach the door before the sexton closed it. This rushing habit in the House of God strikes a stranger as rude and irreverent. You meet with no indications of private devotion, either preceding or following public worship. A man marches into his pew, or his pulpit, sits down, wipes his nose, and stares at all about him; and at the close, the moment the “Amen” is uttered, he is off with as much speed as if the house were on fire. In this instance, the service had not exceeded an hour and a half; and yet they hurried out as if they thought the beef was all burnt, and the pudding all spoiled. Of course, there were no thanks to the stranger for his services,–to say nothing of the _quiddam honorarium_, which to a man travelling for health, at his own expense, with an invalid wife, might have been supposed not unacceptable.
When, however, I got to the portico outside, a gentleman, with his wife, was waiting to see me before they stepped into their carriage. Here was some token of politeness and hospitality,–an invitation to dinner, no doubt.–“Thank you, sir, I am very much obliged to you; but I left my wife very ill at our lodgings this morning, and therefore I cannot have the pleasure to dine with you to-day,” was the civil excuse I was preparing. Never was expectation more beside the mark. My “guess” was altogether wrong. “What are you going to do with yourself this afternoon?” was the gentleman’s blunt salutation. “What have _you_ to propose, sir?” was my reply. “I am the superintendent,” he said, “of a German Sunday-school in the upper part of the city, and I should like you to come and address the children this afternoon.” I promised to go, and he to send to my “lodgings” for me. We both kept our appointment. The number of scholars was about 100. This effort to bring the Germans under a right religious influence is very laudable; for there are about 10,000 of that people in Cincinnati. One quarter of the city is entirely German. You see nothing else on the sign-boards; you hear nothing else in the streets. Of these Germans the greater part are Roman Catholics.
After visiting the school, I found myself in time to attend one of the chapels of the coloured people at 3 P.M. A medical student, whom I had met in the morning, and again at the German school, accompanied me. He was a New Englander, and a thorough anti-slavery man. When we got to the chapel–a Baptist one–they were at prayer. Walking in softly, we entered a pew right in the midst of them. The minister–a mulatto of about thirty years of age, with a fine intelligent eye–was very simple in dress, and unostentatious in manner. His language, too, was appropriate and correct. He was evidently a man of good common sense. His text was Psalm li. l2, l3. He referred very properly to the occasion on which the Psalm was composed, and drew from the text a large mass of sound practical instruction. The chapel (capable of containing about 150 people) was only half-full. Before the sermon, I had observed a very old negro, in a large shabby camlet cloak and a black cap, ascending the pulpit-stairs. I supposed that, being dull of hearing, he had taken that position that he might better listen to the service. However, when the sermon was over, this patriarchal-looking black man rose to pray; and he prayed “like a bishop,” with astonishing correctness and fluency! He was formerly a slave in Kentucky, and was at this time about eighty years of age. They call him “Father Watkins.” At the close I introduced myself to him and to the minister. They both expressed regret that they had not had me up in the pulpit, to tell them something, as “Father Watkins” said, about their “brothers and sisters on the other side of the water.” The minister gave me his card, and invited me and my wife to take tea with him on Tuesday afternoon. This was the first invitation I received within the city of Cincinnati to take a meal anywhere; and it was the more interesting to me as coming from a coloured man.
In the evening I went, according to appointment, to the Welsh Chapel. There I met a Mr. Bushnel, an American missionary from the Gaboon River, on the western coast of Africa. He first spoke in English, and I afterwards a little in Welsh; gladly embracing the opportunity to exhort my countrymen in that “Far West” to feel kindly and tenderly towards the coloured race among them; asking them how they would themselves feel if, as Welshmen, they were branded and despised wherever they went! I was grieved to see the excess to which they carried the filthy habit of spitting. The coloured people in _their_ chapel were incomparably cleaner in that respect.
In the morning a notice had been put into my hand at the Presbyterian Church for announcement, to the effect that Mr. Bushnel and myself would address the “monthly concert at the church in Sixth-street” on the morrow evening. Of this arrangement not a syllable had been said to me beforehand. This was American liberty, and I quietly submitted to it. The attendance was not large; and we two missionaries had it all to ourselves. No other ministers were present,–not even the minister of the church in which we were assembled. The people, however, seemed heartily interested in the subject of missions. At the close, a lady from Manchester, who had seen me there in 1845 at the missionary meeting, came forward full of affection to shake hands. She was a member of Mr. Griffin’s church in that city, and had removed to America a few months before, with her husband (who is a member of the “Society of Friends”) and children. I was glad to find that they were likely to be comfortable in their adopted country.
Next morning I went with Dr. Reuben D. Mussey, a New Englander, to see the Medical College of Ohio. Dr. Mussey is the Professor of Surgery and Dean of the Faculty, and is highly esteemed for his professional skill and general character. He and his son, who was my guide on the Sunday, very kindly showed and explained to me everything of interest in the institution. The cabinet belonging to the anatomical department is supplied with all the materials necessary for acquiring a minute and perfect knowledge of the human frame. These consist of detached bones, of wired natural skeletons, and of dried preparations to exhibit the muscles, bloodvessels, nerves, &c. The cabinet of comparative anatomy is supposed to be more extensively supplied than any other in the United States. Besides perfect skeletons of American and foreign birds and other animals, there is an immense number of detached _crania_, from the elephant and hippopotamus down to the minuter orders. The cabinet in the surgical department has been formed at great expense, chiefly by Dr. Mussey himself, during the labour of more than forty years. It contains a large number of rare specimens,–600 specimens of diseased bones alone. Other departments are equally well furnished. The Faculty is composed of six Professorships,–Surgery, Anatomy and Physiology, Chemistry and Pharmacy, Materia Medica, Obstetrics and Diseases of Women and Children, and the Theory and Practice of Medicine. The fees of tuition are only 15 dollars, or 3 guineas, to each professor, making an aggregate of 90 dollars. There were 190 students. It will probably be admitted that this institution, formed in a new country, has arrived at an astonishing degree of vigour and maturity. It is only one of many instances in which the Americans are before us in the facilities afforded for professional education.
In the afternoon my wife and myself went to take tea with the coloured minister. His dwelling, though small and humble, was neat and clean. With his intelligence and general information we were quite delighted. He spoke with feeling of the gross insults to which the coloured people, even in this free State, are exposed. When they travel by railway, though they pay the same fare as other people, they are generally put in the luggage-van! He had himself, when on board of steam-boats, often been sent to the “pantry” to eat his food. Nor will the white people employ them but in the most menial offices; so that it is nearly impossible for them to rise to affluence and horse-and-gig respectability. The consequence is that they are deeply and justly disaffected towards the American people and the American laws. They clearly understand that England is their friend. For one month all the free coloured people wore crape as mourning for Thomas Clarkson.
LETTER XX.
Stay at Cincinnati (continued)–The New Roman Catholic Cathedral–The Rev. C. B. Boynton and Congregationalism–“The Herald of a New Era”–American Nationality.
A lady, belonging to the Presbyterian Church at which I preached, kindly sent her carriage to take us about to see the city. We visited the new Roman Catholic Cathedral, one of the principal “lions.” It was begun in 1841, and, though used for public worship, is not yet finished. The building is a parallelogram of 200 feet long by 80 feet wide, and is 58 feet from the floor to the ceiling. The roof is partly supported by the side walls, and partly by two rows of freestone columns–nine in each row–at a distance of about 11 feet from the wall inside. These columns are of the Corinthian Order, and are 35 feet high, and 3 feet 6 inches in diameter. There is no gallery, except at one end, for the organ, which cost 5,400 dollars, or about 1,100_l._ sterling. The floor of the building is furnished with a centre aisle of 6 feet wide, and two other aisles, each 11 feet wide, along the side walls, for processional purposes. The remainder of the area is formed into 140 pews, 10 feet deep. Each pew will accommodate with comfort only six persons; so that this immense edifice affords sitting room for no more than 840 people! It is a magnificent structure, displaying in all its proportions a remarkable degree of elegance and taste. The tower, when finished, will present an elevation of 200 feet, with a portico of twelve Corinthian columns, six in front and three on either side, on the model of the Tower of the Wind at Athens. The entire building will be Grecian in all its parts. One-fourth of the population of Cincinnati are Roman Catholics. They have lately discontinued the use of public government-schools for their children, and have established some of their own, I am not so much alarmed at the progress of Popery in America as I was before I visited that country. Its proselytes are exceedingly few. Its supporters consist chiefly of the thousands of Europeans, already Roman Catholic, who flock to the New World. The real _progress_ of Popery is greater in Britain than in America.
In the evening I preached for Mr. Boynton in the “Sixth-street Church,” Mr. Boynton and his Church, heretofore Presbyterians, have recently become Congregationalists. This has given great umbrage to the Presbyterians. Congregationalism is rapidly gaining ground in the Western World, and seems destined there, as in England since Cromwell’s time, to swallow up Presbyterianism. I make no invidious comparison between the two systems: I merely look at facts. And it does appear to me that Congregationalism–so simple, so free, so unsectarian, and so catholic–is nevertheless a powerful absorbent. It _has_ absorbed all that was orthodox in the old Presbyterian Churches of England; and it _is_ absorbing the Calvinistic Methodists and the churches named after the Countess of Huntingdon. It has all along exerted a powerful influence on the Presbyterianism of America. The Congregational element diffused among those churches occasioned the division of the Presbyterian Church into Old School and New School.
Mr. Boynton is what a friend of mine called “intensely American.” He has lately published, under the title of “Our Country the Herald of a New Era,” a lecture delivered before the “Young Men’s Mercantile Library Association.” To show the magnificent ideas the Americans entertain of themselves and their country, I will transcribe a few passages.
“This nation is an enigma, whose import no man as yet may fully know. She is a germ of boundless things. The unfolded bud excites the hope of one-half the human race, while it stirs the remainder with both anger and alarm. Who shall now paint the beauty and attraction of the expanded flower? Our Eagle is scarcely fledged; but one wing stretches over Massachusetts Bay, and the other touches the mouth of the Columbia. Who shall say, then, what lands shall be overshadowed by the full-grown pinion? Who shall point to any spot of the northern continent, and say, with certainty, Here the starry banner shall never be hailed as the symbol of dominion? [The annexation of Canada!] * * * It cannot be disguised that the idea is gathering strength among us, that the territorial mission of this nation is to obtain and hold at least all that lies north of Panama. * * * Whether the millions that are to dwell on the great Pacific slope of our continent are to acknowledge our banner, or rally to standards of their own; whether Mexico is to become ours by sudden conquest or gradual absorption; whether the British provinces, when they pass from beneath the sceptre of England, shall be incorporated with us, or retain an independent dominion;–are perhaps questions which a not distant future may decide. However they may be settled, the great fact will remain essentially the same, that the two continents of this Western Hemisphere shall yet bear up a stupendous social, political, and religious structure, wrought by the American mind, moulded and coloured by the hues of American thought, and animated and united by an American soul. It seems equally certain that, whatever the divisions of territory may be, these United States are the living centre, from which already flows the resistless stream which will ultimately absorb in its own channel, and bear on its own current, the whole thought of the two Americas. * * * If, then, I have not over-rated the moral and intellectual vigour of the people of this nation, and of the policy lately avowed to be acted upon–that the further occupation of American soil by the Governments of Europe is not to be suffered,–then the inference is a direct one, that the stronger elements will control and absorb the lesser, so that the same causes which melted the red races away will send the influence of the United States not only over the territory north of Panama, but across the Isthmus, and southward to Magellan.”
The “New Era” of which America is the “Herald” is, he tells us, to be marked by three grand characteristics,–
“First. A new theory and practice in government and in social life, such as the world has never seen, of which we only perceive the germ as yet.” Already have you indeed presented before the world your “peculiar institution” of slavery in a light new and striking. Already have you a “theory and practice” in the government of slaves such as the world never beheld!
“Second. A literature which shall not only be the proper outgrowth of the American mind, but which shall form a distinctive school, as clearly so as the literature of Greece!” Under this head he says, “Very much would I prefer that our literature should appear even in the guise of the awkward, speculating, guessing, but still original, strong-minded _American_ Yankee, than to see it mincing in the costume of a London dandy. I would rather see it, if need be, showing the wild rough strength, the naturalness and fervour of the extreme West, equally prepared to liquor with a stranger or to fight with him, than to see it clad in the gay but filthy garments of the saloons of Paris. Nay more, much as every right mind abhors and detests such things, I would sooner behold our literature holding in one hand the murderous Bowie knife, and in the other the pistol of the duellist, than to see her laden with the foul secrets of a London hell, or the gaming-houses of Paris. * * * If we must meet with vice in our literature, let it be the growth of our own soil; for I think our own rascality has yet the healthier aspect.”
“Third. A new era in the fine arts, from which future ages shall derive their models and their inspirations, as we do from Greece and Italy. * * * So far as scenery is concerned in the moulding of character, we may safely expect that a country where vastness and beauty are so wonderfully blended will stamp upon the national soul its own magestic and glorious image. It must be so. The mind will expand itself to the measure of things about it. Deep in the wide American soul there shall be Lake Superiors, inland oceans of thought; and the streams of her eloquence shall be like the sweep of the Mississippi in his strength. The rugged strength of the New England hills, the luxuriance of the sunny South, the measureless expanse of the prairie, the broad flow of our rivers, the dashing of our cataracts, the huge battlements of the everlasting mountains,–these are _American_. On the face of the globe there is nothing like to them. When therefore these various influences have been thoroughly wrought into the national soul, there will be such a correspondence between man and the works of God about him, that our music, our poetry, our eloquence, our all, shall be our own, individual and peculiar, like the Amazon and the Andes, the Mississippi and Niagara, alone in their strength and glory.”
Now, mark you! amidst all these splendid visions of the future, there is no vision of liberty for 3,000,000 of slaves. That idea was too small to find a place among conceptions so vast. The lecture contains not a syllable of reference to them. On the contrary, the empty boast of freedom is heard in the following words of solemn mockery: “_The soul of man_ here no longer sits _bound_ and blind amid the despotic forms of the past; it walks abroad _without a shackle_, and with an uncovered eye.” It follows then that there is an essential difference between “the soul of man” and the soul of “nigger,” or rather that “niggers” have no soul at all. How _can_ men of sense, and especially ministers of the Gospel, sit down to pen such fustian? These extracts show how intensely national the Americans are, and consequently how futile the apology for the existence of slavery so often presented, that one State can no more interfere with the affairs of another State than the people of England can with France and the other countries of the European continent. The Americans are to all intents and purposes _one_ people. In short, the identity of feeling among the _States_ of the Union is more complete than among the _counties_ of Great Britain.
On the morning of the 4th of March, Dr. Stowe called to invite me to address the students at Lane Seminary, on the following Sabbath evening, on the subject of missions and the working of freedom in the West Indies. I readily promised to comply, glad of an opportunity to address so many of the future pastors of the American Churches, who will occupy the field when emancipation is sure to be the great question of the day. In fact, it is so already.
LETTER XXI.
Stay at Cincinnati (continued)–The Orphan Asylum–A Coloured Man and a White Fop treated as each deserved–A Trip across to Covington–Mr. Gilmore and the School for Coloured Children–“The Fugitive Slave to the Christian”–Sabbath–Mr. Boynton–Dr. Beecher–Lane Seminary–Departure from Cincinnati.
In the afternoon we went with Mrs. Judge B—- to see an Orphan Asylum, in which she took a deep interest. Requested to address the children, I took the opportunity of delivering an anti-slavery and anti-colour-hating speech. The building, large and substantial, is capable of accommodating 300 children; but the number of inmates was at that time not more than 70. While the lady was showing us from one apartment to another, and pointing out to us the comforts and conveniences of the institution, the following colloquy took place.
_Myself._–“Now, Mrs. B, this place is very beautiful: I admire it exceedingly. Would you refuse a little _coloured_ orphan admission into this asylum?”
_The Lady._ (stretching herself up to her full height, and with a look of horror and indignation),–“Indeed, we would!”
_Myself._–“Oh, shocking! shocking!”
_The Lady._–“Oh! there is another asylum for the coloured children; they are not neglected.”
_Myself._–“Ay, but why should they not be together?–why should there be such a distinction between the children of our common Father?”
_The Lady._ (in a tone of triumph).–“Why has God made such a distinction between them?”
_Myself._–“And why has he made such a distinction between me and Tom Thumb? Or (for I am not very tall) why has he made me a man of 5 feet 6 inches instead of 6 feet high? A man may as well be excluded from society on account of his stature as his colour.”
At this moment my wife, seeing I was waxing warm, pulled me by the coat-tail, and I said no more. The lady, however, went on to say that she was opposed to slavery–was a colonizationist, and heartily wished all the coloured people were back again in their own country. “In their own country, indeed!” I was going to say,–“why, this is their country as much as it is yours;” but I remembered my wife’s admonition, and held my peace. These were the sentiments of a lady first and foremost in the charitable movements of the day, and regarded by those around her as a pattern of piety and benevolence. She was shocked at the notion of the poor coloured orphan mingling with fellow-orphans of a fairer hue.
In the evening we went to take tea at the house of an English Quaker. About half-a-dozen friends had been invited to meet us. These were kindred spirits, anti-slavery out-and-out, and we spent the evening very pleasantly. One of the company, in speaking of the American prejudice against colour, mentioned a remarkable circumstance. Some time ago, at an hotel in one of the Eastern States, a highly respectable coloured gentleman, well known to the host and to his guests, was about to sit down at the dinner table. A military officer–a conceited puppy–asked the landlord if that “nigger” was going to sit down? The landlord replied in the affirmative. “Then,” said the fop, “_I_ cannot sit down with a nigger.” The rest of the company, understanding what was going forward, rose as one man from their seats, ordered another table to be spread, and presented a respectful invitation to the coloured gentleman to take a seat with them. The military dandy was left at the first table, “alone in his glory.” When thus humbled, and when he also understood who the coloured man was, he went up to him to apologize in the best way he could, and to beg that the offence might be forgotten. The coloured gentleman’s reply was beautiful and touching,–“Favours I write on marble, insults on sand.”
On the morning of the 5th of March, the sun shining pleasantly, we were tempted to cross over to Covington, on the Kentucky or slave side of the river. Ferry-steamers ran every five or ten minutes, and the fare was only 5 cents. At this place the Baptists have a large and important college. Why did they erect it on the slave rather than on the free side of the Ohio? This institution I was anxious to see; but I found it too far off, and the roads too bad. Feeling weary and faint, we called at a house of refreshment, where we had a genuine specimen of American inquisitiveness.
In five minutes the daughter of the house had asked us where we came from–what sort of a place it was–how long we had been in the United States–how long it took us to come–how far we were going–how long we should stay–and if we did not like that part of America so well that we would come and settle in it altogether! and in five minutes more our answers to all these important questions had been duly reported to the rest of the family in an adjoining room. This inquisitiveness prevails more in the slave than in the free States, and originates, I believe, in the fidgetty anxiety they feel about their slaves. The stranger must be well catechised, lest he should prove to be an Abolitionist come to give the slaves a sly lesson in geography.
In the afternoon I went to see the school of the coloured children in Cincinnati. This was established about four years ago by a Mr. Gilmore, a white gentleman, who is also a minister of the Gospel. He is a man of some property, and all connected with this school has been done at his own risk and responsibility. On my venturing to inquire what sacrifice of property he had made in the undertaking, he seemed hurt at the question, and replied, “No sacrifice whatever, sir.” “But what, may I ask, have these operations cost beyond what you have received in the way of school-fees?” I continued. “About 7,000 dollars,” (1,500_l._) said he. Including two or three branches, there are about 300 coloured children thus educated. Mr. Gilmore was at first much opposed and ridiculed; but that state of feeling was beginning to wear away. Several of the children were so fair that, accustomed as I am to shades of colour, I could not distinguish them from the Anglo-Saxon race; and yet Mr. Gilmore told me even they would not have been admitted to the other public schools! How discerning the Americans are! How proud of their skin-deep aristocracy! And the author of “Cincinnati in 1841,” in speaking of those very schools from which these fair children were excluded, says, “These schools are founded not merely on the principle that all men are free and equal, but that all men’s children are so likewise; and that, as it is our duty to love our neighbour as ourselves, it is our duty to provide the same benefits and blessings to his children as to our own. These establishments result from the recognition of the fact also, that we have all a common interest–moral, political, and pecuniary–in the education of the whole community.” Those gloriously exclusive schools I had no wish to visit. But I felt a peculiar pleasure in visiting this humbler yet well-conducted institution, for the benefit of those who are despised and degraded on account of their colour. As I entered, a music-master was teaching them, with the aid of a piano, to sing some select pieces for an approaching examination, both the instrument and the master having been provided by the generous Gilmore. Even the music-master, notwithstanding his first-rate ability, suffers considerable loss of patronage on account of his services in this branded school. Among the pieces sung, and sung exceedingly well, was the following touching appeal, headed “The Fugitive Slave to the Christian”–Air, “Cracovienne.”
“The fetters galled my weary soul,–
A soul that seemed but thrown away: I spurned the tyrant’s base control,
Resolved at last the man to play:
The hounds are haying on my track; O Christian! will you send me back?
“I felt the stripes,–the lash I saw, Red dripping with a father’s gore;
And, worst of all their lawless law, The insults that my mother bore!
The hounds are baying on my track; O Christian! will you send me back?
“Where human law o’errules Divine,
Beneath the sheriff’s hammer fell
My wife and babes,–I call them mine,– And where they suffer who can tell?
The hounds are baying on my track; O Christian! will you send me back?
“I seek a home where man is man,
If such there be upon this earth,– To draw my kindred, if I can,
Around its free though humble hearth. The hounds are baying on my track;
O Christian! will you send me back?”
March 7.–This being the Sabbath, we went in the morning to worship at Mr. Boynton’s church. The day was very wet, and the congregation small. His text was, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.” The sermon, though read, and composed too much in the essay style, indicated considerable powers of mind and fidelity of ministerial character. Although from incessant rain the day was very dark, the Venetian blinds were down over all the windows! The Americans, I have since observed, are particularly fond of the “dim religious light.” Among the announcements from the pulpit were several funerals, which it is there customary thus to advertise.
In the afternoon I heard Dr. Beecher. Here, again, I found the blinds down. The Doctor’s text was, “Let me first go and bury my father,” &c. Without at all noticing the context,–an omission which I regretted,–he proceeded at once to state the doctrine of the text to be, that nothing can excuse the putting off of religion–that it is every man’s duty to follow Christ immediately. This subject, notwithstanding the heaviness of the day, the infirmities of more than threescore years and ten (74), and the frequent necessity of adjusting his spectacles to consult his notes, he handled with much vigour and zeal. Some of his pronunciations were rather antiquated; but they were the elegant New England pronunciations of his youthful days. The sermon was marked by that close and faithful dealing with the conscience in which so many American ministers excel.
Professor Allen called to take me up to Lane Seminary, where I was to address the students in the evening. The service was public, and held in the chapel of the institution; but the evening being wet, the congregation was small. I had, however, before me the future pastors of about fifty churches, and two of the professors. I was domiciled at Mr. Allen’s. Both he and his intelligent wife are sound on the subject of slavery. They are also quite above the contemptible prejudice against colour. But I was sorry to hear Mrs. Allen say, that, in her domestic arrangements, she had often had a great deal of trouble with her _European_ servants, who would refuse to take their meals with black ones, though the latter were in every respect superior to the former! I have heard similar remarks in other parts of America. Mr. Allen’s system of domestic training appeared excellent. His children, of whom he has as many as the patriarch Jacob, were among the loveliest I had ever seen.
At 8 o’clock in the morning of the 8th of March I left Lane Seminary, with a heavy heart at the thought that in all probability I should never see it again. There was a sharp frost. Dr. Stowe accompanied me to the omnibus. “All right!”–“_Pax vobiscum!_”–the vehicle moved on, and directly the Doctor was at a distance of a hundred yards waving a farewell. It was the last look.
At 11 A.M. myself, wife, baggage,–all were setting off from the “Queen City” for Pittsburgh, a distance of 496 miles, in the Clipper No. 2, a fine boat, and in good hands.
LETTER XXII.
Cincinnati–Its History and Progress–Its Trade and Commerce–Its Periodical Press–Its Church Accommodation–Its Future Prospects –Steaming up the Ohio–Contrast between Freedom and Slavery–An Indian Mound–Splendid Scenery–Coal Hills.
Before proceeding with our trip to Pittsburg, I will bring together all the material points of information I have gathered relative to Cincinnati.
1. _Its History and Progress_.–The first year of the present century found here but 750 inhabitants. In 1810 there were 2,540; in 1820, 9,602; in 1830, 24,381; in 1840, 46,382. At present the population is estimated at 80,000. The coloured population forms one twenty-fifth, or 4 per cent., of the whole. The native Europeans form one-fifth of the white population.
2. _Its Trade and Commerce_.–The principal trade is in pork. Hence the nickname of _Porkapolis_. The yearly value of pork packed and exported is about five millions of dollars, or one million of guineas! As a proof of the amazing activity which characterizes all the details of cutting, curing, packing, &c., I have been credibly informed that two men, in one of the pork-houses, cut up in less than thirteen hours 850 hogs, averaging 300 lbs. each,–two others placing them on the block for the purpose. All these hogs were weighed singly on scales in the course of eleven hours. Another hand trimmed the hams, 1,700 pieces, in “Cincinnati style,” as fast as they were separated from the carcases. The hogs were thus cut up and disposed of at the rate of more than one per minute! And this, I was told, was not much beyond the ordinary day’s work at the pork-houses.
Steam-boat building is another important branch of trade in this place.
DOLLARS.
In 1840 there were built here 33 boats of 15,341 tons, costing 592,600
1844 ” ” 37 ” 7,838 ” 542,500 1845 ” ” 27 ” 6,609 ” 506,500
3. _Its Periodical Press_.–There are sixteen daily papers! Of these, thirteen issue also a weekly number. Besides these, there are seventeen weekly papers unconnected with daily issues. But Cincinnati is liberal in her patronage of eastern publications. During the year 1845 one house, that of Robinson and Jones, the principal periodical depot in the city, and through which the great body of the people are supplied with this sort of literature, sold of
Magazines and Periodicals 29,822 numbers. Newspapers 25,390[1] “
Serial Publications 30,826 ” Works of Fiction 48,961 ” !
[Footnote 1: Besides an immense quantity sent direct per mail!]
It is estimated that the people of the United States, at the present time, support 1,200 newspapers. There being no stamp-duty, no duty on paper, and none on advertisements, the yearly cost of a daily paper, such as the _New York Tribune_ for instance, is only 5 dollars, or one guinea. The price of a single copy of such papers is only 2 cents, or one penny; and many papers are only one cent, or a half-penny per copy.
4. _Its Church Accommodation_.–By the close of the year 1845 the voluntary principle, without any governmental or municipal aid whatever, had provided the following places of worship:–
Presbyterian 12 New Jerusalem 1 Methodist Episcopal 12 Universalist 1 Roman Catholic 7 Second Advent 1
Baptist 5 Mormons 1
Lutheran 5 Friends 1
Protestant Episcopal 4 Congregational 1 “Christian Disciples” 4 Restorationists 1 Methodist Protestants 3 United Brethren 1 Jewish 2 “Christians” 1
Welsh 2
German Reformed 2 Total 67
This number of places of worship, at an average of 600 persons to each, would afford accommodation for nearly two-thirds of what the entire population was at that time; and surely two-thirds of any community is quite as large a proportion as can, under the most favourable circumstances, be expected to attend places of worship at any given time. Behold, then, the strength and efficiency of the voluntary principle! This young city, with all its wants, is far better furnished with places of worship than the generality of commercial and manufacturing towns in England.
Dr. Reed visited Cincinnati in 1834. He gives the population at that time at 30,000, and the places of worship as follows. I insert them that you may see at a glance what the voluntary principle did in the eleven years that followed.
Presbyterian 6 Campbellite Baptists 1 Methodist 4 Jews 1
Baptist 2 —
Episcopalian 2 Total in 1834 21 German Lutheran 2 Do. in 1845 67 Unitarian 1 —
Roman Catholic 1 Increase 46 Swedes 1
5. _Its Future Prospects_.–The author of “Cincinnati in 1841” says, “I venture the prediction that within 100 years from this time Cincinnati will be the greatest city in America, and by the year of our Lord 2,000 the greatest city in the world.” Our cousin here uses the superlative degree when the comparative would be more appropriate. Deduct 80 or 90 per cent, from this calculation, and you still leave before this city a bright prospect of future greatness.
We must, however, bid adieu to this “Queen of the West,” and pursue our course against the Ohio’s current towards Pittsburg. We steam along between freedom and slavery. The contrast is striking. On this subject the remarks of the keen and philosophic M. de Tocqueville are so accurate, and so much to the point, that I cannot do better than transcribe and endorse them.
“A century had scarcely elapsed since the foundation of the colonies, when the attention of the planters was struck by the extraordinary fact that the provinces which were comparatively destitute of slaves increased in population, in wealth, and in prosperity, more rapidly than those which contained the greatest number of negroes. In the former, however, the inhabitants were obliged to cultivate the soil themselves, or by hired labourers; in the latter, they were furnished with hands for which they paid no wages: yet, although labour and expense were on the one side, and ease with economy on the other, the former were in possession of the most advantageous system. * * * The more progress was made, the more was it shown that slavery, which is so cruel to the slave, is prejudicial to the master.
“But this truth was most satisfactorily demonstrated when civilization reached the banks of the Ohio. The stream which the Indians had distinguished by the name of Ohio, or Beautiful River, waters one of the most magnificent valleys which have ever been made the abode of man. Undulating lands extend upon both shores of the Ohio, whose soil affords inexhaustible treasures to the labourer. On either bank the air is wholesome and the climate mild; and each of those banks forms the extreme frontier of a vast State: that which follows the numerous windings of the Ohio on the left is Kentucky [in ascending the river it was on our _right_]; that on the right [our left] bearing the name of the river. These two States differ only in one respect,–Kentucky has admitted slavery, but the State of Ohio has not. * * *
“Upon the left bank of the stream the population is rare; from time to time one descries a troop of slaves loitering in the half-desert fields; the primeval forest recurs at every turn; society seems to be asleep, man to be idle, and nature alone offers a scene of activity and life.
“From the right bank, on the contrary, a confused hum is heard, which proclaims the presence of industry; the fields are covered with abundant harvests; the elegance of the dwellings announces the taste and activity of the labourer; and man appears to be in the enjoyment of that wealth and contentment which are the reward of labour.”
The Kentucky and the Ohio States are nearly equal as to their area in square miles. Kentucky was founded in 1775, and Ohio in 1788. In 1840 the population of Kentucky was 779,828, while that of Ohio was 1,519,467–nearly double that of the former. By this time it is far more than double.
“Upon the left bank of the Ohio,” continues De Tocqueville, “labour is confounded with the idea of slavery; upon the right bank it is identified with that of prosperity and improvement: on the one side it is degraded, on the other it is honoured. On the former territory no white labourers can be found, for they would be afraid of assimilating themselves to the negroes; on the latter no one is idle, for the white population extends its activity and its intelligence to every kind of improvement. Thus the men whose task it is to cultivate the rich soil of Kentucky are ignorant and lukewarm; while those who are active and enlightened either do nothing or pass over into the State of Ohio, where they may work without dishonour.”
March the 9th was a dull day; but the scenery was of surpassing beauty. At night a terrible storm of thunder and lightning, accompanied with rain, compelled us to “lie to.” A charming morning succeeded. During the forenoon, we passed a small town on the Virginia side called Elizabeth Town. An Indian mound was pointed out to me, which in size and shape resembled “Tomen y Bala” in North Wales. These artificial mounds are very numerous in the valleys of the Ohio and the Mississippi. The ancient relics they are sometimes found to contain afford abundant proofs that these fertile regions were once peopled by a race of men in a far higher state of civilization than the Indians when first discovered by the white man. The innocent and imaginative speculations of a Christian minister in the State of Ohio on these ancient remains laid the foundation of the curious book of “Mormon.”
Nature being now arrayed in her winter dress, we could form but a faint conception of her summer loveliness when clothed in her gayest green. Hills were seen rising up, sometimes almost perpendicularly from the stream, and sometimes skirted with fertile fields extending to the river’s edge. Here a house on the brow of a hill, and there another at its base. Here the humble log hut, and there the elegant mansion, and sometimes both in unequal juxtaposition. The hills are in parts scolloped in continuous succession, presenting a beautiful display of unity and diversity combined; but often they appear in isolated and distinct grandeur, like a row of semi-globes; while, in other instances, they rise one above another like apples in a fruit-vase. Sometimes the rivulets are seen like silver cords falling perpendicularly into the river; at other times, you discern them only by their musical murmurs as they roll on through deep ravines formed by their own action. These hills, for more than 100 miles before you come to Pittsburg, are literally heaps of coal. In height they vary from 100 to 500 feet, and nothing more is required than to clear off the soil, and then dig away the treasure.
What struck me most was the immense number of children everywhere gazing upon us from the river’s banks. At settlements of not more than half-a-dozen houses, I counted a groupe of more than twenty children.
LETTER XXIII.
Arrival at Pittsburg–Its Trade and Prospects–Temperance–Newspapers –Trip up the Monongahela to Brownsville–Staging by Night across the Alleghany Mountains–Arrival at Cumberland–The Railway Carriages of America.
Arriving at Pittsburg in the middle of the night of the 10th of March, we remained on board till morning. As we had been accustomed on this “Clipper No. 2” to breakfast at half-past 7, I thought they surely would not send us empty away. But no! we had to turn out at that early hour of a morning piercingly cold, and get a breakfast where we could, or remain without. This was “clipping” us rather too closely, after we had paid seven dollars each for our passage and provisions.
Pittsburg is in the State of Pennsylvania. Its progress has been rapid, and its prospects are bright. Seventy years ago the ground on which it stands was a wilderness, the abode of wild beasts and the hunting ground of Indians. Its manufactures are chiefly those of glass, iron, and cotton. It is the Birmingham of America. Indeed one part of it, across the river, is called “Birmingham,” and bids fair to rival its old namesake. Its advantages and resources are unparalleled. It occupies in reference to the United States, north and south, east and west, a perfectly central position. It is surrounded with, solid mountains of coal, which–dug out, as I have intimated, with the greatest ease–is conveyed with equal ease down inclined planes to the very furnace mouths of the foundries and factories! This great workshop communicates directly, by means of the Ohio, the Mississippi, Red River, &c., with immense countries, extending to Texas, to Mexico, and to the Gulph. Its population, already 70,000, is (I believe) incomparably more intelligent, more temperate, more religious, and more steady than that of any manufacturing town in England. In fact, England has not much chance of competing successfully with America, unless her artizans copy more extensively the example of the American people in the entire abandonment of intoxicating liquors. In travelling leisurely from New Orleans to Boston (the whole length of the United States), and sitting down at all sorts of tables, on land and on water, private and public, I have never once seen even wine brought to the table. Nothing but water was universally used!
At Pittsburg I bought three good-sized newspapers for 5 cents, or twopence-halfpenny. One of them, _The Daily Morning Post_, was a large sheet, measuring 3 feet by 2, and well filled on both sides with close letter-press, for 2 cents, or one penny. The absence of duty on paper and of newspaper stamps is no doubt one great cause of the advanced intelligence of the mass of the American people. What an absurd policy is that of the British Government, first to impose taxes upon _knowledge_, and then to use the money in promoting _education_!
At Pittsburg the Ohio ends, or rather begins, by the confluence of the Alleghany and the Monongahela rivers. We ascended the latter to Brownsville, about 56 miles. Having booked ourselves at an office, we had to get into a smaller steamer on the other side of the bridge which spans the river. The entire charge to Philadelphia was 12 dollars each. We went by the “Consul,” at half-past 8 A.M. of the 11th of March. The water was very high, as had been the case in the Ohio all the way from Cincinnati. We had not proceeded far when I found the passengers a-stir, as if they had got to their journey’s end. What was the matter? Why, we had come to falls, which it was very doubtful whether the steamer could get over. The passengers were soon landed, and the steamer, with the crew, left to attempt the ascent. There were locks at hand by which, under ordinary circumstances, boats evaded the difficulty; but the flood was now so great that they could not be used. Our steamer, therefore, stirred up her fires, raised her steam, brought all her powers to bear, faced the difficulty, dashed into it, cut along, and set at defiance the fury of the flood. “There she goes!”–“No!”–“Yes!”–“No!”–“She’s at a stand,”–the next moment she was gliding back with the torrent: she had failed! But _nil desperandum_. “Try–try–try again!” An immense volume of smoke issued from her chimney, and soon she seemed again to be fully inflated with her vapoury aliment. I expected every moment an explosion, and, while rejoicing in our own safety on _terra firma_, felt tremblingly anxious for the lives of those on board. Having had sufficient time to “recover strength,” she made for the foaming surge once more. “There she goes!”–“No!”–“Yes!”–she paused–but it was only for the twinkling of an eye,–the next moment she was over, and the bank’s of the Monongahela resounded with the joyful shouts of the gazing passengers. We now breathed more freely, and were soon on board again; but we had not advanced very far before we had to get out once more, in consequence of other falls, which were stemmed with the same inconvenience, the same anxiety, and the same success as in the preceding instance.
But ere long an obstacle more formidable than the falls presented itself–a bridge across the river. This bridge the boats were accustomed to pass under, but the water was now so high that it could not be done; and we had to wait till another boat belonging to the same company, above the bridge, came down from Brownsville, and enabled us to effect an exchange of passengers; for neither of the boats could get under the bridge. The down boat soon made its appearance; and a scene of confusion ensued which I know not how to describe. Imagine two sets of passengers, about 150 persons in each set, exchanging boats! Three hundred travellers jostling against each other, with “plunder” amounting to some thousands of packages, to be removed a distance of 300 or 400 yards, at the risk and responsibility of the owners, without any care or concern on the part of the officers of the boats! Trunks seemed to run on wheels, carpet-bags to have wings, and portmanteaus to jump about like grasshoppers. If you had put down one article while looking for the rest, in an instant it would be gone. In this amusing scuffle were involved several members of Congress, returning in the “down” boat from their legislative duties. The celebrated Judge M’Lean was among them. But the safety of some box or parcel was just then–to most of us–of more importance than all the great men in the world. The baggage storm being over, and the great division and trans-shipment effected, we moved forward in peace. By-and-by, however, each one was called upon to show his baggage, that it might be set apart for the particular coach to which it would have to be consigned. This was a most troublesome affair. At half-past 6 in the evening we arrived at Brownsville, having been ten hours in getting over the 56 miles from Pittsburg.
And now for the stage-coaches; for, _nolens volens_, “a-head” we must go that very night. About seven or eight coaches were filled by those of our fellow-passengers who, like ourselves, were going to cross the mountains. Some of the vehicles set off immediately; but three waited to let their passengers get tea or supper, meals which in America are identical. About 8 P.M. we started on our cold and dreary journey of 73 miles across the Alleghany Mountains. A stage-coach in America is a very different thing from the beautiful machine that used to pass by that name in England.
It has no outside accommodation, except for one person on the box along with the driver. The inside, in addition to the fore seat and the hind seat, has also a middle seat across the vehicle. Each of these three seats holds three persons, making nine in all. In our stage we had ten persons; but the ten, in a pecuniary point of view, were only eight and a half. The night was fearfully dark, and the roads were altogether unworthy of the name. Yet there is an immense traffic on this route, which is the highway from East to West. The Americans, with all their “smartness,” have not the knack of making either good roads or good streets. About 11 P.M. we arrived at Uniontown, 12 miles from Brownsville. There the horses were to be changed, an operation which took about an hour to accomplish. Three coaches were there together. The passengers rushed out of the inn, where we had been warming ourselves, and jumped into the coaches. Crack went the whips, off went the horses, and round went the wheels. But, alas! while we could hear the rattling of the other coaches, our own moved not at all! “Driver, why don’t you be off?” No answer. “Driver, push on.” No reply. “Go a-head, driver,–don’t keep us here all night.” No notice taken. We began to thump and stamp. No response. At last I put my head out through the window. There _was_ no driver; and, worse still, there were no horses! How was this? There was no “team,” we were told, for our coach! I jumped out, and began to make diligent inquiry: one told me one thing, and another another. At length I learned that there was a “team” in the stable, but there was no driver disposed to go. The one who should have taken us was cursing and swearing in bed, and would not get up. This was provoking enough. “Where is the agent of the stage-coach company?”–“He lives about 47 miles off.” “Where is the landlord of this house?”–“He is in bed.” There we were helpless and deserted on the highroad, between 12 and 1 o’clock, in an extremely cold night, without any redress or any opportunity of appeal! It was nobody’s business to care for us. I groped my way, however, to some outbuilding, where about half-a-dozen drivers were snoring in their beds, and, with the promise of making it “worth his while,” succeeded in inducing one of them to get up and take us to the next place for changing horses. But before we could get off it was 2 o’clock in the morning. We reached the next station, a distance of 10 miles, at 5 P.M., and paid our driver two dollars. In America drivers are not accustomed to receive gratuities from passengers, but ours was a peculiar case. After a most wearisome day of travel, being tossed about in the coach like balls, expecting every moment to be upset, and feeling bruised all over, we reached Cumberland at 9 P.M., having been 25 hours in getting over 73 miles, at the amazing rate of 3 miles an hour! In Cumberland we had to stay all night.
At 8 A.M. the next day we set off by railway, or (as the Americans would say) “by the cars,” to Baltimore. In committing my trunk to the luggage-van, I was struck with the simplicity and suitableness of the check system there adopted. A piece of tin, with a certain number upon it, was fastened by a strap to each article of baggage, and a duplicate piece given to the passenger. I also remarked the size, shape, and fittings-up of the cars. They are from 30 to 50 feet long, having an aisle right through the middle from end to end, and on each side of that aisle rows of seats, each of sufficient length to accommodate two persons. The arrangement reminded me of a little country meeting-house, the congregation amounting to from 50 to 100 persons. Each carriage contained a stove,–at that season a most important article of furniture. The seats, which were very nicely cushioned, had their hacks so arranged as that the passengers could easily turn them as they pleased, and sit with either their faces or their backs “towards the horses” as they might feel disposed. This part of the arrangement is indispensable, as these long carriages can never be turned. The hind part in coming is the fore part in going, and _vice versa_. The distinctions of first, second, and third class carriages are unknown. That would be too aristocratic. But the “niggers” must go into the luggage-van. These republican carriages are very neatly fitted up, being mostly of mahogany with crimson velvet linings; but you often feel annoyed that such dirty people should get in.
LETTER XXIV.
Journey by Railroad from Cumberland to Baltimore–A Tedious Stoppage –A Sabbath in Baltimore–Fruitless Inquiry–A Presbyterian Church and Dr. Plummer–Richmond and its Resolutions–Dr Plummer’s Pro slavery Manifesto–The Methodist Episcopal Church.
The railway from Cumberland to Baltimore is 178 miles long, and (like most lines in the States) is single. This fact is important, for our cousins, in boasting of the hundreds or thousands of miles of railway they have constructed, forget to tell us that they are nearly all single. Here and there they have a double set of rails, like our sidings, to enable trains to pass each other.
The ground was covered with snow, otherwise the scenery would have been magnificent. For a long time the Potomac was our companion. More than once we had to cross the stream on wooden bridges; so that we had it sometimes on our right and sometimes on our left, ourselves being alternately in Virginia and in Maryland. When within 14 miles of Baltimore, and already benighted, we were told we could not proceed, on account of some accident to a luggage-tram that was coming up. The engine, or (as the Americans invariably say) the “locomotive,” had got off the rail, and torn up the ground in a frightful manner; but no one was hurt. We were detained for 7 hours; and instead of getting into Baltimore at 8 P.M., making an average of about 15 miles an hour, which was the utmost we had been led to expect, we did not get there till 3 A.M., bringing our average rate per hour down to about 9-1/2 miles. The tediousness of the delay was considerably relieved by a man sitting beside me avowing himself a thorough Abolitionist, and a hearty friend of the coloured race. He spoke out his sentiments openly and fearlessly, and was quite a match for any one that dared to assail him. His name was Daniel Carmichael, of Brooklyn. He is a great railway and canal contractor, and has generally in his employ from 500 to 800 people. He is also a very zealous “teetotaler.” We had also a _Mrs. Malaprop_, from Baltimore, with us, who told us, among other marvellous things, that in that city they took the _senses_ (census) of the people every month. She was very anxious to let all around her know that her husband was a medical man: she therefore wondered what “the Doctor” was then doing, what “the Doctor” thought of the non-arrival of the train, whether “the Doctor” would be waiting for her at the station, and whether “the Doctor” would bring his own carriage, or hire one, to meet her, &c.
March 14.–The day on which we arrived at Baltimore was the Sabbath. In a public room in the National Hotel, at which we were stopping, was hung up a nicely-framed announcement of the order of services in one of the Presbyterian Churches. We wished, however, to find a Congregational place of worship, and set off with that view. It was a beautiful day, and Baltimore seemed to send forth its inhabitants by streets-full to the various churches. In the _Old_ World I never saw anything like it, nor elsewhere in the _New_, except perhaps at Boston. All secular engagements seemed to be entirely suspended, and the whole city seemed to enjoy a Sabbath! As we walked along, I asked a young man if he could direct me to a Congregational church. He stared at me for a moment, and then said, “Do you mean a church with pews in it?” I asked another, “Can you tell me where I shall find a Congregational church in this city?”–“What congregation do you mean, sir?” was the reply. They evidently knew nothing at all about Congregationalism. The fact was, as I afterwards understood, we had not yet come into its latitude; for in America Presbyterianism and Congregationalism have hitherto been matters of latitude and longitude rather than of earnest conviction and firm adherence. We now inquired for a _Presbyterian_ church, and were told that there was one not far from where we then stood, in which Mr. Plummer–a very popular minister just come into the city–preached. Following the directions given, we came to a certain church, in front of which two or three grave men stood talking to each other. In answer to the question, “What church is this?” one of these grave men said, with a good broad Scotch accent, “It’s a Presbyterian church.” The accent gave a double confirmation to the answer. “Is it Mr. Plummer’s church?” I continued. With the same accent, and in a tone of gentle rebuke, I was told, “Yes, it is _Doctor_ Plummer’s.” We entered. The congregation were assembling. We were left either to stand in the aisle or to take a seat as we pleased. We preferred the latter. The building was new, but built in the old Gothic style. The pews, the pulpit, the front of the gallery, the organ, and the framework of the roof, which was all exposed, were of oak, which had been made to resemble in colour wood that has stood the test of 400 or 500 years. The windows also were darkened. The whole affair was tremendously heavy, enough to mesmerize any one. The congregation was large, respectable, and decorous. After a few glances around, to see if there was a negro pew anywhere, I observed several coloured faces peeping from a recess in the gallery, on the left side of the organ,–there was the “Negro Pew,” In due time _Doctor_ Plummer ascended the pulpit. He was a fine tall man, grey-haired, well dressed, with commanding aspect and a powerful voice. I ceased to wonder at the emphasis with which the Scotchman called him _Doctor_ Plummer. He was quite the _ideal_ of a _Doctor_. His text was John iii. 18: “He that believeth on Him is not condemned, but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.” His subject was, that “man is justly accountable to God for his belief.” This truth he handled in a masterly manner, tossing about as with a giant’s arm Lord Brougham and the Universalists. Notwithstanding my want of rest on the previous night, the absurd heaviness of the building, and the fact that the sermon–which occupied a full hour–was all read, I listened with almost breathless attention, and was sorry when he had done.
And who was this Dr. Plummer? It was Dr. Plummer late of Richmond, in Virginia. “Richmond,” says Dr. Reed, “is still the great mart of slavery; and the interests of morality and religion suffer from this cause. Several persons of the greatest wealth, and therefore of the greatest consideration in the town, are known slave-dealers; and their influence, in addition to the actual traffic, is of course unfavourable. The sale of slaves is as common, and produces as little sensation, as that of cattle. It occurs in the main street, and before the door of the party who is commissioned to make the sale.” And what was the conduct of this Doctor of Divinity in reference to this state of things? He sanctioned it! He pleaded for it! He lived upon it! He was once actually supported, either wholly or in part, by slave labour! The church of which he was the pastor was endowed with a number of slaves. These slaves were hired out, and the proceeds were given in the way of stipend to the _Doctor_! Nor is this all. A few years ago the slave-holders of the South were greatly alarmed by the vigorous efforts of the Abolitionists of the North. It was about the time that the Charleston Post-office was plundered by a mob of several thousand people, and all the anti-slavery publications there found were made a bonfire of in the street; and where “the clergy of all denominations attended in a body, lending their sanction to the proceedings, and adding by their presence to the impressive character of the scene.” On that occasion the clergy of the city of Richmond were not less prompt than their brethren of Charleston in responding to the “public sentiment.”‘ They resolved _unanimously_,–
“That we earnestly deprecate the unwarrantable and highly improper interference of the people of any other State with the domestic relations of master and slave.
“That the example of our Lord Jesus Christ and his Apostles, in not interfering with the question of slavery, but uniformly recognising the relations of master and servant, and giving full and affectionate instruction to both, is worthy the imitation of all ministers of the Gospel.
“That we will not patronise nor receive any pamphlet or newspaper of the Anti-slavery Societies, and that we will discountenance the circulation of all such papers in the community.
“That the suspicions which have prevailed to a considerable extent against ministers of the Gospel and professors of religion in the State of Virginia, as identified with Abolitionists, are _wholly unmerited_; believing as we do, from extensive acquaintance with our churches and brethren, that they are unanimous in opposing the pernicious schemes of Abolitionists.”
After this, are men to be branded as “infidels,” because they say the American churches are the “bulwarks of slavery?”
But what has all this to do with our fine-looking and dignified “_Doctor_?” I will tell you. When these resolutions were passed, he was from home; but on his return, he lost no time in communicating to the “Chairman of the Committee of Correspondence” his entire concurrence with what had been done,–and here are extracts from his letter:–
“I have carefully watched this matter from its earliest existence; and everything I have seen or heard of its character, both from its patrons and its enemies, has confirmed me beyond repentance in the belief, that, let the character of the Abolitionists be what it may in the sight of the Judge of all the earth, this is the most meddlesome, impudent, reckless, fierce, and wicked excitement I ever saw.
“If Abolitionists will set the country in a blaze, it is but right that they should receive the _first warming at the fire_.
“Let it be proclaimed throughout the nation, that every movement made by the fanatics (so far as it has any effect in the South) does but rivet every fetter of the bondman, and diminish the probability of anything being successfully undertaken for making him either fit for freedom or likely to obtain it. We have the authority of Montesquieu, Burke, and Coleridge, three eminent masters of the science of human nature, that, of all men, slave-holders are the most jealous of their liberties. One of Pennsylvania’s most gifted sons has lately pronounced the South the _cradle of liberty_.
“Lastly. Abolitionists are like infidels, wholly unaddicted to martyrdom for opinion’s sake. Let them understand that _they will be caught_ [lynched] if they come among us, and they will take good heed to keep out of our way. There is not one man among them who has any more idea of shedding his blood in the cause, than he has of making war on the Grand Turk.”
So much for my splendid D.D., on whose lips I hung with such intense interest. I did not know all this at the time, or I should have felt very differently. As he had but recently left Richmond when I saw him, it is not at all unlikely that those fine clothes he had on were the fruit of the slave’s unrequited toil. He has always, I believe, stood high among his brethren, and one or two excellent tracts of his are published by the American Tract Society.
All denominations are here alike guilty in reference to their coloured brethren. In this very city the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church for 1840 passed the following resolution:–
“That it is inexpedient and unjustifiable for any preacher to permit coloured persons to give testimony against white persons in any State where they are denied that privilege by law.”
Against this iniquitous resolution the official members of two of the coloured Methodist Episcopal Churches in Baltimore immediately remonstrated and petitioned. The following powerful and pathetic passages are from their address:–
“The adoption of such a resolution by our highest ecclesiastical judicatory,–a judicatory composed of the most experienced and the wisest brethren in the Church, the choice selection of twenty-eight Annual Conferences,–has inflicted, we fear, an irreparable injury upon eighty thousand souls for whom Christ died,–souls who, by this act of your body, have been stripped of the dignity of Christians, degraded in the scale of humanity, and treated as criminals, for no other reason than the colour of their skin! Your resolution has, in our humble opinion, _virtually_ declared that a mere physical peculiarity, the handiwork of our all-wise and benevolent Creator, is _prima facie_ evidence of incompetency to tell the truth, or is an unerring indication of unworthiness to bear testimony against a fellow-being whose skin is denominated white. * * *
“Brethren, out of the abundance of the heart we have spoken. _Our grievance is before you_! If you have any regard for the salvation of the eighty thousand immortal souls committed to your care,–if you would not _thrust_ beyond the pale of the Church _twenty-five thousand souls in this city_, who have felt determined never to leave the Church that has nourished and brought them up,–if you regard us as children of one Common Father, and can upon reflection sympathize with us as members of the body of Christ,–if you would not incur the fearful, the tremendous responsibility of offending not only one, but many thousands of his ‘little ones,’–we conjure you to wipe from your journal the odious resolution which is ruining our people.”
This address was presented to one of the Secretaries, a delegate of the Baltimore Conference, and subsequently given by him to the Bishops. How many of the members of Conference saw it, is unknown. One thing is certain, _it was never read to the Conference_.
LETTER XXV.
A Sabbath at Baltimore (continued)–A Coloured Congregation–The Thought of seeing Washington abandoned–Departure from Baltimore –Coloured Ladies in the Luggage-Van–American Railways–Chesapeak Bay–Susquehannah–State of Delaware, and Abolition of Slavery –Philadelphia–Albert Barnes–Stephen Girard’s Extraordinary Will.
In the afternoon of my first Sabbath at Baltimore I found, after much inquiry, a congregation of coloured people, who were some sort of Methodists. My wife and I were the only white people in the place. We were treated with great politeness, and put, not in a pew apart by ourselves, but in one of the best places they could find, in the very midst of the congregation. A serious-looking coloured man opened the service, with great propriety of manner and expression. He was the regular pastor. A black man, a stranger as I understood, preached. His text (he said) was, “Behold, I come quickly;” and they would find it in the Book of Revelation. But chapter and verse were not given, nor had he the Bible open in Revelation at all. I suspected that he could not read; and that suspicion was confirmed by the amount of nonsense which he soon uttered. At first his words were “few and far between,” uttered in a tone of voice scarcely audible. Soon, however, he worked both himself and his audience into a tremendous phrenzy. The burden of his song was–how John had lived to a very great age, in spite of all attempts to put him to death; how his enemies had at last decided to try the plan of throwing him into a “kittle of biling ile;” how God had said to him, “Never mind, John,–if they throw thee into that kittle, I’ll go there with thee,–they shall bile me too;” how John was therefore taken up alive; and how his persecutors, baffled in all their efforts to despatch him, ultimately determined to throw their victim upon a desolate island, and leave him there to live or perish as he might. During the delivery of all this nonsense, the laughing, the shouting, the groaning, and the jumping were positively terrific. It was Methodism gone mad. How disgraceful, that American Christians, so called, with all their schools and colleges, and with all their efforts to send the Gospel to Africa, should leave these people at their very doors thus to feed upon “husks” and “ashes!” Between 500 and 600 people were listening to this ignorant man, giving as the pure and positive word of God what was of very doubtful authority, intermingled with the crudities of his own brain. I wished to stay through the service, and perhaps at the close express my fraternal feelings; but I was so shocked and grieved at this ranting exhibition that I felt it unwarrantable to remain.
Leaving these unfortunate people, we peeped into two cathedral churches,–that of the Church of England, or (as it is here called) the Protestant Episcopal Church, and that of the Church of Rome. Both buildings are very splendid. We had been in the former some time before we felt quite sure that we were not in a Popish place of worship, so papistical were its aspect and arrangements. It was evident that Puseyism, or Popery in some form, had there its throne and its sceptre. The avowedly Popish cathedral was crowded with worshippers; and, to the shame of Protestantism be it spoken, black and coloured people were _there_ seen intermingled with the whites in the performance of their religious ceremonies! The State of Maryland, of which Baltimore is the capital, having been first settled by a colony of Roman Catholics, might be expected to be a stronghold of Popery. Yet, it is not so. The adherents of that system are but a small minority of the population.
Baltimore is, however, a stronghold of slavery. Here Garrison’s indignation against the system was first kindled–here Frederick Douglas tasted some of its bitter draughts–and here Torrey died its victim. The following are specimens of the manner in which the trade in human flesh is carried on in this city:–
“NEGROES WANTED.–I have removed from my former residence. West Pratt-street, to my new establishment on Camden-street, immediately in the rear of the Railroad Depot, where I am permanently located. Persons bringing Negroes by the cars will find it very convenient, as it is only a few yards from where the passengers get out. Those having Negroes for sale will find it to their advantage to call and see me, as I am at all times paying the highest prices in cash.
“J. S. DONOVAN, Balt. Md.”
“o28–6m*.”
“CASH FOR FIVE HUNDRED NEGROES.–At the old establishment of Slatter’s, No. 244, Pratt-street, Baltimore, between Sharp and Howard Streets, where the highest prices are paid, which is well known. We have large accommodations for Negroes, and always buying. Being regular shippers to New Orleans, persons should bring their property where no commissions are paid, as the owners lose it. All communications attended to promptly by addressing
“H. F. SLATTER.”
“j5–6m*.”
Before and since my arrival in the United States, I had thought much of seeing Washington, and, if possible, Congress in session. But such was the severity of the weather that we could not cross the Alleghanies before that assembly had risen and dispersed. At Baltimore I was within two hours’ journey of the capital. Should I go and see it? No; for what can _there_ be found to gratify the friend of freedom and of man? The Missouri compromise, the annexation of Texas, and the Mexican War, are all associated with Washington. The capital itself is but a great slave-mart, with its baracoons and manacles, its handcuffs and auction-stands! Ay, and all this in full view of the national edifice, wherein is deposited that instrument which bears on its head and front the noble sentiment–“That all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Under the influence of these recollections, I abandoned the idea of visiting Washington.
At 9 o’clock on Monday morning we set off by railway for Philadelphia. While I was taking a last glance at my trunks in the luggage-van, at the Baltimore station, about half-a-dozen very clean and respectable coloured ladies came up, and made for the said van as a matter of course. It was the only accommodation that would be allowed them, though they paid the same fare as other people! They were ladies to whom any gentleman in England would have been proud to resign a seat. But in the land of equality, they were consigned to the cold, dark, and dirty regions of the luggage-van. I noticed one important difference between the railway economy of England and that of America. In the former, as you know, the railway is haughty, exclusive, and aristocratic. It scorns all fellowship with common roads, and dashes on, either under or over the houses, with arbitrary indifference. In America, it generally condescends to pass along the public streets to the very centre of the city, the engine being taken off or put to in the suburbs, and its place _intra muros_, if I may so say, supplied by horses. In leaving Baltimore, the engine was attached _before_ we got quite out of the city; and we were going for some time along the common road, meeting in one place a horse and cart, in another a man on horseback, in another a pair of oxen fastened to each other, and so on. Dangerous enough, apparently! yet railway accidents are much less frequent in America than in England. It is, besides, an immense saving of capital.
In our progress, we had to cross several arms of the Chesapeak Bay. These arms were from one to two miles wide, and the railway is carried over them upon posts driven into the ground. It seemed like crossing the sea in a railway carriage. At Havre de Grace we had to cross the Susquehannah River. This word Susquehannah is Indian, and means literally, I am told, “the rolling thunder.” In crossing it, however, we heard no thunder, except that of the luggage-van over our heads, on the top of the steamer. Here we changed carriages. We soon got sight of the Delaware, which kept us company nearly all the way to Philadelphia. Delaware, the smallest of all the States except Rhode Island, we entirely crossed. A few days before, Delaware had well nigh done herself great honour. Her House of Representatives carried, by a majority, a vote for the abolition of slavery within her boundaries; but the measure was lost in her Senate by a majority of one or two. The State legislature will not meet again for two years. All parties are confident that the measure will then be triumphantly carried through. In America, however, the abolition of slavery in any State does not always mean freedom to the slaves. Too often it is a mere transportation of them to the Southern States. Had Delaware passed a law that all slaves should he free at the expiration of five years, or that all children born after a certain period should he free, the owners of slaves would have had an obvious interest in disposing of their human property to the Southern traders _before_ that period arrived. Mothers, too, would have been hastened Southward to give birth to their offspring; so that the “peculiar institution” might lose none of its prey. Measures for the abolition of slavery in any part of America do not arise from sympathy with the negro, and from a wish to improve his condition and promote his happiness, but from aversion to his presence, or perhaps from a conviction that the system of slavery is expensive and impolitic. Those who feel kindly towards their coloured brother, and act towards him under the impulse of pure and lofty philanthropy, are, I am sorry to say, very few indeed.
These views may appear severe and uncharitable towards the American people, but they are confirmed by M. de Tocqueville. “When a Northern State declared that the son of the slave should be born free,” observes that impartial writer, “the slave lost a large portion of his market value, since his posterity was no longer included in the bargain, and the owner had then a strong interest in transporting him to the South. Thus the same law prevents the slaves of the South from coming to the Northern States, and drives those of the North to the South. The want of free hands is felt in a State in proportion as the number of slaves decreases. But, in proportion as labour is performed by free hands, slave labour becomes less productive; and the slave is then a useless or an onerous possession, whom it is important to export to those Southern States where the same competition is not to be feared. _Thus the abolition of slavery does not set the slave free: it merely transfers him from one master to another, and from the North to the South_.” M. de Tocqueville adds, in a note, “The States in which slavery is abolished usually do what they can to render their territory disagreeable to the negroes as a place of residence; and as a kind of emulation exists between the different States in this respect, the unhappy blacks can only choose the least of the evils which beset them.” This is perfectly true.
Crossing the Schuilkyl, we arrived about 3 o’clock P. M. in Philadelphia, “the city of brotherly love,” having performed the journey of 97 miles in six hours, a rate of only 16 miles an hour!
In Philadelphia were many men and things that I wished to see. First and foremost, in my professional curiosity, was Albert Barnes; but being anxious to push on to New York that night, I had but an hour and a half to stay. Of a sight of the famous author of the “Notes,” I was therefore compelled to deny myself. My regret was diminished, when I learned from an English minister of high standing, who, under the influence of the best feelings, and with an excellent introduction, had called upon the Commentator, that he received him with a degree of indifference bordering on rudeness.
In Philadelphia there is no Congregational Church. A few years ago John Todd, the well-known author of “The Student’s Guide,” attempted to raise one. He was but little countenanced, however, by Albert Barnes and the Presbyterians, and failed.
In passing through this city, I had a distant glimpse of a most remarkable institution. M. Girard, an old bachelor, a native of France, who had accumulated immense wealth, died a few years ago, leaving by will the enormous sum of two millions of dollars, or upwards of four hundred thousand pounds sterling, to erect and endow a college for the accommodation and education of three hundred orphan boys. The ground on which it was to be built, consisting of no less than 45 acres, he ordered to be enclosed with a high solid wall, capped with marble, and lined upon the top with long iron spikes. He also inserted in his will the following extraordinary clause: “I enjoin and require that no ecclesiastic, missionary, or minister of any sect whatever, shall ever hold or exercise any station or duty whatever in said college; nor shall any such person ever be admitted for any purpose, or as a visitor, within the premises appropriated to the purpose of said college.” An attempt was made before the Supreme Court of the United States to set aside this will, and Daniel Webster, the great New England barrister, delivered a powerful “plea” against it; but the attempt was overruled. For some years the building has been slowly proceeding, and is not yet ready for occupation. Had I had time, I could not, being a minister, have entered the premises. To me, and to all like me, “_Procul, procul, este, profani_” is chiselled on every stone!–a singular monument of the priest-hating propensities of the old French Revolutionists.
LETTER XXVI.
Departure from Philadelphia–A Communicative Yankee–Trenton–The Mansion of Joseph Bonaparte–Scenes of Brainerd’s Labours One Hundred Years ago–First Impressions of New York–150, Nassau-street–Private Lodgings–Literary Society–American Lodging-houses–A Lecture on Astronomy–The “Negro Pew” in Dr. Patton’s Church.
At half-past 4 in the afternoon of March 15 we left Philadelphia by railway for New York, which we reached at 10 P.M., an average again of about 16 miles an hour. In this journey I met with a very communicative Yankee, who, though not a religious man, was proud to trace his genealogy to the “Pilgrim Fathers,” and, through them, to the Normans. Intercourse, he said, had been maintained for the last two centuries between the English and American branches of the family. He also took care to inform me that the head of the English branch was a baronet. This was but one of many instances in which I found among our Transatlantic friends a deep idolatry of rank and titles. In talking of their own political institutions, he declared their last two Presidents to have been–the one a fool, and the other a knave,–Polk the fool, and Tyler the knave. He entertained an insane and cruel prejudice against those whose skin was not exactly of the same colour with his own, and “thanked God” that he had no African blood in his veins.
We passed through Trenton, celebrated as the scene of a bloody conflict between the British and the American forces. The Americans, I am sorry to say, dwell too fondly on the remembrance of those deadly struggles. They cherish the spirit of war. The influence of Elihu Burritt and his “bond of brotherhood” is indeed greatly needed on both sides of the Atlantic.
We also passed what once was the residence of ex-royalty–the princely mansion which Joseph Bonaparte erected for himself after he lost the throne of Spain. It is surrounded with about 900 acres of land, his own private property; and was still in the family, though about to be sold. What a home has America proved both to fallen greatness and to struggling poverty! Princes and peasants alike find shelter here.
This journey conducted us through New Brunswick, Elizabeth Town, Newark,–places associated with the name of David Brainerd, and often (a hundred years ago) the scenes of his toils and travels. But where are the descendants of those Indians on whose behalf he felt such intense solicitude? Alas! not a vestige of them is to be seen.
Having thus crossed New Jersey State, we came to New Jersey city, where we crossed a ferry to New York. After rather more than the usual amount of anxiety about baggage, &c., we reached the Planter’s Hotel a little after 10 at night.
Next morning I sallied forth to gaze, for the first time, at the wonders of New York. The state of the streets impressed me unfavourably. The pigs were in the enjoyment of the same unstinted liberty as at Cincinnati. Merchants and storekeepers spread their goods over the entire breadth of the causeway, and some even to the very middle of the street. Slops of all sorts, and from all parts of the houses, were emptied into the street before the front doors! The ashes were disposed of in a very peculiar manner. Each house had, on the edge of the parapet opposite, an old flour-barrel, or something of the sort, into which were thrown ashes, sweepings, fish-bones, dead rats, and all kinds of refuse. A dead rat very frequently garnished the top of the barrel. This was the order of things, not in small by-streets only, but also in the very best streets, and before the very best houses. The pavement too, even in Broadway, was in a very wretched state.
I made for No. 150, Nassau-street, where the Tract Society, the Home Missionary Society, and the Foreign Missionary Society have their rooms. To some parties in that house I had introductions. The brethren connected with those societies treated me with great kindness and cordiality, and made me feel as though I had been in our own missionary rooms in Blomfield-street. By their aid I obtained private lodgings, in a good situation and in good society.
The landlady was a Quaker, with half-a-dozen grown-up daughters. Our fellow-lodgers consisted of the Rev. A.E. Lawrence, Assistant-Secretary of the American Home Missionary Society (who had a few months before become the landlady’s son-in-law); the Rev. Mr. Martyn, and his wife, a woman of fine talents, and editor of “The Ladies’ Wreath;” the Rev. Mr. Brace, an editor in the employ of the Tract Society; Mr. Daniel Breed, M.D., a Quaker, and principal of a private academy for young gentlemen (also the landlady’s son-in-law); Mr. Oliver Johnson, a sub-editor of the _Daily Tribune_, and a well-known Abolitionist; and Mr. Lockwood, a retired grocer,–who, having gained a small independence, was thus enjoying it with his youthful wife and child in lodgings.
Into society better adapted to my taste and purposes I could not have gone. This mode of life is very extensively adopted in America, –married couples, with families, living in this manner for years, without the least loss of respectability. They seldom have sitting-rooms distinct from their bed-rooms, which are made to answer both purposes; and as to meals, all meet to eat the same things, at the same table, and at the same time. The custom is economical; but it has an injurious effect upon character, especially in the case of the women. The young wife, not being called upon to exercise herself in domestic economy, is apt to become idle, slovenly, and–in a certain sense–worthless. The softening associations and influences, and even the endearments, of “home,” are lost. There is no _domesticity_.
In the evening of the 17th I went to the Broadway Tabernacle, to hear a lecture on Astronomy from Professor Mitchell of Cincinnati, no ordinary man. Although the admission fee was half-a-dollar, upwards of a thousand persons were present. Without either diagrams or notes, the accomplished lecturer kept his audience in breathless attention for upwards of an hour. He seemed to be a devout, unassuming man, and threw a flood of light on every subject he touched. His theme was the recent discovery of the Leverrier planet; and perhaps you will not be displeased if I give you a summary of his lucid observations. In observing how the fluctuations of the planet Herschel had ultimately led to this discovery, he said:
“For a long time no mind dared to touch the problem. At length a young astronomer rises, unknown to fame, but with a mind capable of grasping all the difficulties involved in any of these questions. I refer of course to LEVERRIER. He began by taking up the movements of Mercury. He was dissatisfied with the old computations and the old tables; and he ventured to begin anew, and to compute an entirely new set of tables. With these new tables, he predicted the _precise instant_ when the planet Mercury, on the 18th of May, 1845, would touch the sun, and sweep across it. The time rolls round when the planet is to be seen, and his prediction verified or confuted. The day arrives, but, alas! for the computer, the clouds let down their dark curtains, and veil the sun from his sight. Our own Observatory had just been finished; and if the audience will permit, I will state briefly my own observations upon the planet. I had ten long years been toiling. I had commenced what appeared to be a hopeless enterprise. But finally I saw the building finished. I saw this mighty telescope erected,–I had adjusted it with my own hands,–I had computed the precise time when the planet would come in contact with the sun’s disk, and the precise point where the contact would take place; but when it is remembered that only about the thousandth part of the sun’s disk enters upon the field of the telescope, the importance of directing the instrument to the right point will be realized. Five minutes before the computed time of the contact, I took my place at the instrument. The beautiful machinery that carries the telescope with the sun was set in motion, and the instrument directed to that part of the sun’s disk at which it was anticipated the contact would take place. And there I sat, with feelings which no one in this audience can realize. It was my first effort. All had been done by myself. After remaining there for what seemed to be long hours, I inquired of my assistant how much longer I would have to wait. I was answered _four minutes_. I kept my place for what seemed an age, and again inquired as before. He told me that but one minute had rolled by. It seemed as if time had folded his wings, so slowly did the moments crawl on. I watched on till I was told that but one minute remained; and, within sixteen seconds of the time, I had the almost bewildering gratification of seeing the planet break the contact, and slowly move on till it buried itself round and deep and sharp in the sun.
“I refer to this fact for two reasons,–first, to verify Leverrier; and, second, to impress upon your minds the desirableness of locating our observatories in different parts of the earth. No European astronomer could have made this observation, because in their longitudes the sun would have set previous to the contact of the planet with its disk. I had the gratification of furnishing these observations to Leverrier himself, who reported upon them to the Academy of Sciences. The triumph of Leverrier was complete. It was after this that Arago, seeing the characteristics of his mind, said to him, ‘Take up the movements of the planet Herschel,–watch them, analyze them, and tell us what it is that causes them.’ Leverrier throws aside all other employments, and gives his mind to the investigation of this subject. He begins entirely back. He takes up the movements of the planets Jupiter and Saturn, and investigates them anew: he leaves nothing untouched. Finally, after having in the most absolute manner computed all the influence they exercise upon the planet Herschel, he says, ‘I now know positively all existing causes that disturb the planet; but there is an outstanding power that disturbs it not yet accounted for, and now let me rise to a knowledge of that outstanding cause.’ He did what no other man ever had attempted. He cleared up all difficulties;–he made all daylight before his gaze. And now, how shall I give to you an account of the train of reasoning by which he reached out into unknown space, and evoked from its bosom a mighty world? If you will give me the time, I will attempt to give you an idea of his mighty workings in the field of science.
“In the first place, let it be remembered that the planets circulate through the heavens in nearly the same plane. If I were to locate the sun in the centre of the floor, in locating the planets around it, I should place them upon the floor in the same plane. The first thing that occurred to Leverrier, in looking for the planet, was this,–he need not look out of the plane of the ecliptic. Here, then, was one quarter in which the unknown body was to be found. The next thing was this,–where is it located, and what is its distance from the sun? The law of Bode gave to him the approximate distance. He found the distance of Saturn was about double that of Jupiter, and the distance of Herschel twice that of Saturn; and the probability was that the new planet would be twice the distance of Herschel,–and as Herschel’s distance is 1,800,000 miles, the new planet’s would be 3,600,000. Having approximated its distance, what is its periodic time?–for if he can once get its periodic time, he can trace it out without difficulty. According to the third of Kepler’s laws, as the square of the period of Herschel is to the square of the period of the unknown planet, so is the cube of the distance of Herschel to the cube of the distance of the unknown planet. There is only one term unknown. The periodic time of Herschel we will call 1, and its distance 1, and by resolving the equation, we find the periodic time of the new planet to be a fraction less than three times that of Herschel, or about 220 years. Now, if it be required to perform 360 degrees in 220 years, it will perform about a degree and a half in one year. Only one thing more remains to be accomplished. If it is possible to get the position of the unknown body at _any time_, we can trace it up to where it should be in 1847.
“First, then, let us suppose the sun, Herschel, and the new planet in certain fixed positions, which we will represent as follows,–
[Illustration:
A B C
Sun. Herschel. Unknown, or
Leverrier Planet.
]
“It will be observed that a line drawn out from the sun to the right will pass through Herschel, and if continued will intersect the new planet. It is very apparent that, when these three orbs occupy the position assigned them above, the influence of the unknown planet upon Herschel will be exercised in the highest degree, and consequently that Herschel will be drawn farther from the sun at that juncture than at any other; and if we know where _Herschel_ is, when this effect is produced, by prolonging the line through Herschel outward, it must pass through the new planet. The delicate observations upon Herschel gave this result, and showed when it was that it was swayed farthest from the sun. By taking the place occupied by the planet at that time, and increasing it onward one degree and a half per annum, we can point out the place it must occupy at any given period. In September last we find Leverrier communicating these results to his friends in Berlin. They are provided with charts, on which every observed star is mapped down; and if any new object presents itself in the heavens, it is immediately subjected to a rigid scrutiny. On the very night on which Leverrier’s letter had been received, we find the telescope directed to the designated point in the heavens. A stranger appears, but has only the aspect of a fixed star. Long did the eye watch that night, but no motion was found. When twenty-four hours rolled round, and it was once more possible to fix the instrument upon this strange body, it had moved in the precise degree and direction computed. The new planet was found. The news spread with the utmost rapidity throughout the world,–all Europe was electrified, and soon the intelligence crossed the waters. Our telescope was directed to this object. All had hitherto failed,–no eye had ever seen it round and planet-like from its disk. The evening finally came round for the examination. Time moved on its leaden wings; but twilight faded away at length, and I took my seat, with my assistant, at the instrument. I directed the telescope to that point of the heavens. I found four stars in the field of view. The first was brought to the field of view of the instrument, and pronounced to be a fixed star; and so with the second. The third was brought forward; and before it had reached the centre of the field, I heard the exclamation, ‘There it is!’ and there it was, as bright and beautiful as Jupiter himself. Here was a result not attained by any other instrument in the world. When we know that a body is a planet, then, and not till then, do we find the disk. The great rival of our instrument had seen it, but did not recognise it.
“Before five minutes had elapsed, the micrometical wires pronounced its diameter to be 40,000 miles. Here were results such as no previous one had attained, I mention it, because I think it is right that our own country, which has but just commenced its career in this science, should know what is her due; and I trust the day is not far distant when we shall become as distinguished for our proficiency, for our learning, for our researches, and for our efforts in behalf of Astronomy, as we have hitherto been for our profound neglect of everything belonging to this sublime science.”
So much had been recently said in England about the “Negro Pew” in Dr. Patton’s Church that I naturally felt curious to see it for myself, resolving (if possible) to sit in it. On Sabbath morning the 21st of March I set off with my wife on this errand, taking for our guide as to the precise position of the “locality” Mr. Page’s “Letter of Apology,”–in which it was stated that in that church they treated the coloured people well; that they were elevated above the rest of the congregation, and nearer heaven; and, finally, that they occupied a position of honour, being on the right hand of the minister, as Jesus Christ was on the right hand of God! We found two coloured people–an old man and an old woman–seated in the front pew close to the minister’s right hand; and at once concluded that the section of pews at the end wall must be the favoured spot, the terrestrio-celestial elevation commonly called the “Negro Pew.” We advanced, and installed our white faces in the pew immediately behind the sable couple. The old lady seemed really alarmed, and, with amusing earnestness, motioned us to take a seat elsewhere. Remonstrance was all in vain,–we were determined to sit among the happy favourites. At this time but few persons were present. By-and-by the children of the Sunday-school were marched into the neighbouring pews on the other side of the aisle, and one of the lady teachers made eager signs for us to come away from our strange position. I nodded an intimation that we were all right, and perfectly comfortable. After the lapse of a few moments, another polite and compassionate lady actually rose and came to the pew-door to remonstrate with us.
In a serious yet coaxing tone, she said, “Won’t you take a seat here on this side of the aisle?”
“No, thank you, madam,” I replied; “we are quite comfortable.”
“But,” she continued, in a voice of deep commiseration, “this is the place allotted to the coloured people.”
“Thank you,” I rejoined; “we have made no mistake.”
“Well, just as you please, sir!” (as though she had said _De gustibus non disputandum_) and with that she retreated.
The eyes of all in the synagogue were upon us. The little people whispered, and the big people stared, and all the people marvelled.
The morning was dark and wet, and yet (as usual) the Venetian blinds were all down. The gallery was occupied by three classes of persons: the black people–about a dozen in number–on the “right hand,” the singing people in front, and the Sunday-school children everywhere else. The regular congregation, amounting perhaps to 300, were all downstairs.
Dr. Patton ascended the pulpit-stairs with his cloak on, placed a manuscript “fresh from the mint” under the cushion, sat down, took out his pocket-handkerchief, applied it vigorously, and then gazed leisurely around.
The pulpit service commenced with a short prayer; then followed singing by the choir, all else sitting silent. The tenth chapter of Romans was read; then came the long prayer, in which the Doctor prayed for the abolition of slavery, and for the spread of the Gospel. The text, which succeeded, was Rom. x. 3, 4. Having noticed the context, the preacher proposed–
I. To explain the text. (Here he examined very critically the meaning of the Greek word [Greek: dikai-osunous], quoting Moses Stuart and others.)
II. To designate those who go about to establish their own righteousness.
III. To remonstrate against such conduct, as being unnecessary, criminal, and dangerous.
The discourse was sound and good, but every word read. The disorderly conduct of the children in the gallery proved a great annoyance; and for all the solicitude of the ladies to get us away from the vicinity of coloured skins, not one of them had the politeness to offer us either Bible or hymn-book.
This visit of ours to the “Negro Pew” was immediately laid hold of by the Abolitionists, and made to go the whole round of their papers as a “testimony against caste.” This provoked into action the prolix pen of the celebrated Mr. Page, who wasted on the subject an immense quantity of ink and paper. “Page” after page did he pen; continued to do so, to my certain knowledge, for about three months after; and, for aught I know to the contrary, he may be _paging_ away to this very day. This commotion answered my purpose exceedingly well,–my object being to bear testimony against the impiousness of such a distinction and separation in the house of God. It is, however, but justice to Dr. Patton to observe that the case is not singular, the peculiar celebrity of his “Negro Pew” arising entirely from the imbecile and somewhat profane apology volunteered by Mr. Page. In point of fact, Dr. Patton and his people, as I ascertained in conversation with him on the subject, are rather in advance of their neighbours in kind feeling towards the coloured people.
LETTER XXVII.
A Presbyterian Church in New York, and its Pastor–The Abbotts and their Institution–Union Theological Seminary–Dr. Skinner’s Church–New York University–A threatening “Necessity”–Prejudice against Colour–A Fact connected with Mr. ——‘s Church–Another Fact in Pennsylvania–State of Public Opinion in New York–An Interview with Dr. Spring–A Missionary Meeting in Dr. Adams’s Church.
In the evening I preached by engagement for the Rev. ——, in the —- Presbyterian Church. It was pouring with rain, and not more than 150 persons were present. The pastor, who had visited me in a very fraternal manner, kindly proposed to devote part of the next day to showing me some of the “lions” of the city. The first place we visited was Mount Vernon, the institution of the Abbotts. It is a seminary for young ladies, with 200 pupils. The first of the brothers to whom we were introduced was John Abbott, the author of “The Mother at Home.” He is apparently 40 years of age. He introduced us to the room of the senior class, which consisted of 30 or 40 young ladies, from 14 to 25 years of age. They were engaged in a French exercise with Jacob Abbott, the author of “The Young Christian,” “The Corner Stone,” “The Way for a Child,” &c., &c. The exercise over, we were introduced to Mr. Jacob Abbott, and were requested to accompany him to a private sitting-room. I found him an exceedingly pleasant and unassuming man. He is 43 years of age, but looks younger. He wrote both “The Young Christian” and “The Corner Stone” when he was only 25. John is two years younger than Jacob; Charles, to whom also I was introduced, is younger still; and Gorham, whom I did not then see, is the youngest of the four. All are ministers, though not pastors,–all highly intellectual men, and connected more or less with this seminary, which is one of the best conducted I have ever seen. The pupils are not boarders, but they pay from 10_l._ to 15_l._ a year for their tuition alone. I subsequently made another visit to this institution in company with my wife, upon whom Mr. Jacob Abbott had very politely called.
Mr. —— intended to introduce me to Dr. Spring, but he was not at home. He then took me to the Union Theological Seminary. In that institution about 120 young men are preparing for the Christian ministry. The library contains _twenty thousand_ volumes on theology alone–musty and prosy tomes! What a punishment it would be to be compelled to wade through the whole! We saw neither professors nor students. My principal recollection of the place is that of feeling intensely hungry, and smelling at the same time the roast beef on which, in some of the lower regions of the buildings, the young divines were regaling themselves. In vain I wished to join them in that exercise.
When we came out, my guide proposed to take me to see Dr. Robinson. Much as I wanted to see the author of the “Greek Lexicon,” and the Traveller in Palestine, there were other claims that then more urgently pressed themselves. I had breakfasted at 7, and it was now near 1. I gave my friend a hint to that effect. But he overruled it by saying, “It is close by, and won’t take us many minutes.” We went, but the Doctor was not in. We were now opposite Dr. Skinner’s Church, and my friend insisted on my going to see it. It will hold about 1,000 people. All the pews are cushioned and lined, and the place has a decided air of aristocracy about it. The school-room, the lecture-room, the vestry, &c., were very complete and convenient. “How strange,” I observed to my friend, “that you should so far exceed us in the comfort of your places of worship, and at the same time be so far behind us in domestic comforts.” “_That_” said he, “was the principle of the Puritans,–the house of God first, their own after.” I ventured to ask him what salaries ministers in New York generally received. He told me from 1,000 to 4,000 dollars, or from 200_l._ to 800_l._ “My own,” he added, “is 2,000 dollars.” We were now not far from the New York University. “You must go and see that,” said he. I went, but saw nothing particular except the library, empty lecture-rooms, and chapel,–no professors. My friendly guide pointed to a portrait of Lord Lyndhurst, told me with evident pride that he was a Yankee, and marvelled at my ignorance of the fact.
From time to time I had given him hints that I was afraid of being too late for dinner at my lodgings; and when the sight-seeing was at last ended, he very coolly and complacently said, “Now, if you really think you are too late for dinner at your place, I shall be under the _necessity_ of asking you to go and take a plate with me.” Those were the _ipsissima verba_. I could scarcely keep my gravity; but I replied, “Thank you, sir; I want to go to the centre of the city, and I can easily get a dinner at any eating-house.” He both nodded and expressed an entire concurrence, and seemed to think it an _admirable_ arrangement. In parting, he pressed me to preach for him on the following Thursday, but I declined. The next day I was told, on unquestionable authority, that two or three years ago one of the elders of this gentleman’s church, meeting a man from South America whom he took to be a mixture of Spaniard and Indian, requested his company to church. The stranger assented, and sat with him in his pew. He liked the service, became interested, and went again and again. At last it was whispered that he was a “Nigger,”–_i.e._ had a slight mixture of African blood in him. The next week a meeting of the Session was held, at which it was unanimously resolved that the intruder’s entrance into the body of the church must be prohibited. Two men were stationed at the door for that purpose. The stranger came. He was stopped, and told that he could not be allowed to enter the body of the church, there being a place up in the gallery for coloured people. The man remonstrated, and said he had been invited to take a seat in Mr. So-and-so’s pew. “Yes,” they replied, “we are aware of that; but public feeling is against it, and it cannot be allowed.” The stranger turned round, burst into tears, and walked home.
Mr. Johnson, of the _Tribune_, told me that two or three years ago he and thirty or forty more were returning from an Anti-slavery Convention held at Harrisburgh in Pennsylvania. They had left by railway for Philadelphia at 3 o’clock in the morning. At a town called Lancaster they stopped to breakfast. In the company were two coloured gentlemen, one of whom was a minister. They all sat down together. Soon the waiters began to whisper, “A nigger at table!” “There is two!” The landlord quickly appeared, seized one of the coloured gentlemen by the shoulder, and asked him how he dared to sit down at table in his house. The company remonstrated, and assured him that those whose presence appeared to be so offensive were very respectable men, friends of theirs, whom they had invited to sit down. It was all in vain. The landlord would hear nothing; “the niggers must go.” “Very well,” said the rest of the company; “then we shall all go.” Away they went, and left the refined landlord to console himself for the loss of a large