3 December 1832 – 9 December 1832

Rose at half-past four. The sky was black as death, but in the night winter had chopped his mantle on the earth, and there it lay, cold, and purely white, against the inky sky. Dressed: crammed away all the gleanings of the packing, and in thaw, and sleet, and rain, drove down to the steam-boat. Went directly to the cabin. On my way thither, managed to fall down half-a-dozen steep steps, and give myself as many bruises. I was picked up and led to a bed, where I slept profoundly till breakfast time. Our kinsman, Mr. ——, was our fellow-passenger: I like him mainly. After breakfast, returned to my crib. As I was removing Contarini Fleming, in order to lie down, a lady said to me, "Let me look at one of those books;" and, without further word of question of or acknowledgment, took it from my hand, and began reading. I was a little surprised, but said nothing, and went to sleep. Presently I was roused by a pull on the shoulder, and another lady, rather more civil, and particularly considerate, asked me to do her the favour of lending her the other. I said, by all manner of means, wished her at the devil, and turned round to sleep once more. Arrived at Amboy, we disembarked and bundled ourselves into our coach, ourselves, our namesake, and a pretty quiet lady, who was going, in much heaviness of heart, to see a sick child. The roads were unspeakable; the day most delightfully disagreeable. My bruises made the saltatory movements of our crazy conveyance doubly torturing; in short, all things were the perfection of misery. I attempted to read, but found it utterly impossible to do so. Arrived at the Delaware, we took boat again; and, as I was sitting very quietly reading Contarini Fleming, with the second volume lying on the stool at my feet, the same unceremonious lady who had borrowed it before snatched it up without addressing a single syllable to me, read as long as she pleased, and threw it down again in the same style when she went to dinner. Now I know that half the people here, if they were to read that in Mrs. Trollope, would say, "Oh, but you know she could not have been a lady, 'tis not fair to judge of our manners by the vulgar specimens of American society which a steam-boat may afford." Very true: but granting that she was not a lady (which she certainly was not), supposing her to have been a housemaid, or any thing else of equal pretensions to good breeding, the way to judge is by comparing her, not with ladies in other countries, but with housemaids, persons in her own condition of life; and 'tis most certain that no person whatsoever, however ignorant, low, or vulgar, in England, would have done such a thing as that. But the mixture of the republican feeling of equality peculiar to this country, and the usual want of refinement common to the lower classes of most countries, forms a singularly felicitous union of impudence and vulgarity, to be met with no where but in America. Arrived at the Mansion House, which I was quite glad to see again. Installed myself in a room, and, while they brought in the packages, finished Contarini Fleming. It reminded me of Combes' book: I wonder whether he is turning phrenologist at all? those physiological principles were the bosom friends of the Combes' phrenological ones. Stowed away my things, made a delicious huge wood fire, dressed myself, and went down to dinner. Our kinsman dined with us. Mr. —— came in while we were at dinner. After dinner, came up to my room, continued unpacking and putting away my things till near nine o'clock. When we went down to tea, my father was lying on the sofa asleep, and a man was sitting with his back to the door, reading the newspaper. He looked up as we came in: it was ——, whom I greatly rejoiced to see again. During tea, he told us all the Philadelphia gossip. So the ladies are all getting up upon horses, and wearing the "Kemble cap," as they call Lady ——'s device. How she would laugh if she could hear it; how I did laugh when I did hear it. The Kemble cap, forsooth! thus it is that great originators too often lose the fame of their inventions, and that the glory of a new idea passes by the head that conceived it, to encircle, as with a halo, that of some mere imitator; thus it is that this very big world comes to be called America, and not Columbia, as it ought to; thus it is—etc., etc., etc. He sat for some time. Saw poor Mrs. ——. * * * * * * * * * * She is better, poor thing; I like her amazingly.

After breakfast practised for two hours. —— called and stayed some time. Came up to my own room; wrote journal: while doing so a note containing two cards, and an invitation to "tea," from the Miss ——s was brought to me. Presently I was called down to receive our kinsman, who sat some time with me, whom I like most especially, who is a gentleman, and a very nice person. Came up and resumed my journal: was again summoned down to see young Mr. ——. * * * * * * * * * * When he was gone, finished journal, wrote to Mrs. ——, to my mother, read a canto in Dante, and began to write a novel. Dined at five. After dinner, put out things for this evening, played on the piano, mended habit shirt, dressed myself, and at a quarter to ten went to the theatre for my father. I had on the same dress I wore at Devonshire House, the night of the last ball I was at in England, and looked at myself in amazement, to think of all the strangenesses that have befallen since then. We proceeded to Miss ——'s, and this tea-party turned out to be a very crowded dance, in small rooms upon carpets, and with a roasting fire. Was introduced to all the world and his wife. Dr. —— claimed acquaintance with us, and danced with me: I like his manners very much. I have beheld Miss ——, and should doubtless now depart in peace. * * * * * * * * * * Lord! Lord! what fools men and women do make themselves. Was introduced to one Mr. ——, Mr. ——'s partner, whom I received graciously for the sake of the good days on board the Pacific. Came away at a little after twelve. I never felt any thing like the heat of the rooms, or heard any thing so strange as the questions the people ask one, or saw any thing more lovely than the full moonlight on the marble buildings of Philadelphia.

After breakfast, practised: Mr. and Mrs. —— called, also Dr. ——. Went and saw poor Mrs. —— for a little time; she interests me most extremely—I like her very very much. Came up to my own room; read a canto of Dante. Was called down to see folk, and found the drawing-room literally thronged. The first face I made out was Mr. ——'s, for whom I have taken an especial love: two ladies, a whole load of men, and Mr. ——, who had brought me a curious piece of machinery, in the shape of a musical box, to look at. It contained a little bird, no larger than a large fly, with golden and purple wings, and a tiny white beak. On the box being wound up, this little creature flew out, and, perching itself on the brink of a gold basin, began fluttering its wings, opening its beak, and uttering sundry very melodious warblings, in the midst of which, it sank suddenly down, and disappeared, the lid closed, and there was an end. What a pity 'tis that we can only realise fairy-land through the means of machinery. One reason why there is no such thing left as the believing faculty among men, is because they have themselves learnt to make magic, and perform miracles. When the coast was once more clear, I returned to my room, got out things for the theatre, dined tête-à-tête with D——; my father dined at the public table. After dinner, came up stairs, read Grahame, wrote journal, began my novel under another shape. I can't write prose; (query, can I any thing else?) I don't know how, but my sentences are the comicalest things in the world; the end forgets the beginning, and the whole is a perfect labyrinth of parenthesis within parenthesis. Perhaps, by the by, without other view, it would be just as well if I exercised myself a little in writing my own language, as the grammar hath it, "with elegance and propriety." At half-past five, went to the theatre. The play was Romeo and Juliet; the house not good. Mr. —— played Romeo. * * * * * * * * * * I acted like a wretch, of course; how could I do otherwise? Oh, Juliet! vision of the south! rose of the garden of the earth! was this the glorious hymn that Shakspeare hallowed to your praise? was this the mingled strain of Love's sweet going forth, and Death's dark victory, over which my heart and soul have been poured out in wonder and ecstasy?—How I do loathe the stage! these wretched, tawdry, glittering rags, flung over the breathing forms of ideal loveliness; these miserable, poor, and pitiful substitutes for the glories with which poetry has invested her magnificent and fair creations—the glories with which our imagination reflects them back again. What a mass of wretched mumming mimicry acting is! Pasteboard and paint, for the thick breathing orange groves of the south; green silk and oiled parchment, for the solemn splendour of her noon of night; woolen platforms and canvass curtains, for the solid marble balconies and rich dark draperies of Juliet's sleeping-chamber, that shrine of love and beauty; rouge, for the startled life-blood in the cheek of that young passionate woman; an actress, a mimicker, a sham creature, me, in fact, or any other one, for that loveliest and most wonderful conception, in which all that is true in nature, and all that is exquisite in fancy, are moulded into a living form. To act this! to act Romeo and Juliet! horror! horror! how I do loathe my most impotent and unpoetical craft! * * * * * * * * * * In the last scene of the play, I was so mad with the mode in which all the preceding ones had been perpetrated, that, lying over Mr. ——'s corpse, and fumbling for his dagger, which I could not find, I, Juliet, thus apostrophised him,—Romeo being dead—"why, where the devil is your dagger, Mr. ——!" What a disgusting travesty. On my return home, I expressed my entire determination to my father to perform the farce of Romeo and Juliet no more. Why, it's an absolute shame that one of Shakspeare's plays should be thus turned into a mockery. I received a note from young Mr. ——, accompanied by a very curious nosegay in shells; a poor substitute for the breathing, fresh, rosy flowers he used to furnish me with, when I was last here.

The morning was beautifully bright and warm, like a May morning in England. After breakfast, practised for two hours: while doing so, was interrupted by Mr. ——, who came to bid us good-by. He was going on to New York, and thence to England. * * * * * * * * * * He sat some time. When he was gone, and I had finished my practising, came up to my own room. Was summoned thence to see my kinsman, who sat some time with me, and whom I like of all things. He makes it out (for he seems a great meddler in these matters) that we are originally Italian people, pirates by name, Campo Bello; the same family as the Scottish Campbells; the same family as the Norman Beauchamps: how I only wish it were true! I have, and always have had, the greatest love and veneration for old blood; I would rather by far have some barbarous Saxon giant to my ancestor, than all the wealth of the earth to my dower. I parted from my friend with much regret; he has won my heart fairly. When he was gone, came up to my own room. The day was brilliant and unclouded; and, as I looked into the serene blue sky, my spirit longed for wings. * * * * * * * * * * Dr. —— called this morning, and interested me by a long account of Webster; in the course of which, however, he gave me, if possible, a stronger distaste than I had before to the form of government in this country, from various results which he enumerated as inevitably belonging to it. Read a canto in Dante: it consoles me to read my Italian, and forget for a time all that is. * * * * * * * * * * I sat watching the glorious sunset, as it came redly streaming into my room, touching every thing with glory, and shining through my hair upon my book. It suggested to me a picture; and I wrote one for Mrs. ——, who had been consulting me about a costume in which to sit for her portrait. Dined at five: my father dined out. After dinner, sat writing journal till ten, when he returned. The moon was shining soft and full, and he asked me if I would take a walk. I bonneted and booted, and we sallied forth to the Schuylkill. The moon withdrew herself behind a veil of thin white clouds, but left a grey clear light over the earth, and through the sky. We reached the Fair Mount bridge at about eleven. The turnpike was fast, and every body asleep, so we climbed over the gate, and very deliberately pursued our way through the strange dark-looking covered bridge, where the glimmering lamps, at distant intervals, threw the crossing beams and rafters into momentary brightness, that had a strange effect contrasted with the surrounding gloom. We reached the other side, and, turning off from the road, began climbing the hill opposite the breakwater. The road was muddy in the valley with heavy rains; and unwilling to wade through the dirt, we clambered along a paling for several yards, and so escaped the mire. My father steered for the grassy knoll just opposite Fair Mount; and there, screened by a thicket of young cedar bushes, with the river breaking over the broad dam far below us, and the shadowy banks on the other side melting away in the soft grey light, we sat down on a tree trunk. Here we remained for upwards of a quarter of an hour without uttering a syllable; indeed, we had not spoken three words since we set out. My father was thinking, I presume, of —— something; I, of the day of judgment—when these thick forests, and wide strong waters, like a shrivelled scroll, are to burn to ashes before the coming of God's justice. We were disturbed by a large white spaniel dog, who, coming down from among the cedar bushes, reminded me of the old witch stories, and Faust. We arose to depart, and took our way towards the Market Street bridge, along the banks of the river. The broken notes of a bugle-horn came at intervals across the sleeping waters from the opposite shore, where shone reflected the few lingering lights from the houses that had not yet shut up for the night. The moon, faintly struggling through the clouds, now touched the dark pyramids of the cedar trees that rose up into the grey sky, and threw our shadows on the lonely path we were pursuing, now cast a pale gleam through the rapid clouds that chased one another like dreams across the sky. The air was soft and balmy as the night air of mid August. The world was still; and, except our footfalls, as we trudged along, no sound disturbed the universal repose. We did not reach home till half-past twelve. As we walked down Market Street, through the long ranges of casks, the only creatures stirring, except some melancholy night-loving cat, my father said very calmly, "How I do wish I had a gimlet."—"What for?"—"What fun it would be to pierce every one of these barrels." For a gentleman of his years, this appeared to me rather a juvenile prompting of Satan; and as I laughingly expostulated on the wickedness of such a proceeding, he replied with much innocence, "I don't think they'd ever suspect me of having done it;" and truly I don't think they would. Came home, and to bed. That was a curious fancy of my father's. A PICTURE. Through the half open'd casement stream'd the light Of the departing sun. The golden haze Of the red western sky fell warm and bright Into that chamber large and lone: the blaze Touch'd slantingly curtain and couch, and threw A glory over many an antique gem, Won from the entombed cities that once grew At the volcano's foot. Mingled with them Stood crystal bowls, through which the broken ray Fell like a shower of precious stones, and lay Reflected upon marble; these were crown'd With blushing flowers, fresh and glittering yet With diamond rain-drops. On the crimson ground A shining volume, clasp'd with gold and jet, And broken petals of a passion-flower Lay by the lady of this silent bower. Her rippling hair fell from her pearly round That strove to clasp its billowy curls: the light Hung like a glory on their waves of gold. Her velvet robe, in many a violet fold, Like the dark pansy's downy leaf, was bound With a gold zone, and clasp'd with jewels bright, That glow'd and glanced as with a magic flame Whene'er her measured breathing stirr'd her frame. Upon her breast and shoulders lay a veil Of curious needle-work, as pure and pale As a fine web of ivory, wrought with care, Through which her snowy skin show'd smooth and fair. Upon the hand that propp'd her drooping head, A precious emerald, like a fairy well, Gleam'd with dark solemn lustre; a rich thread Of rare round pearls—such as old legends tell The Egyptian queen pledged to her Roman lord, When in her cup a kingdom's price she pour'd,— Circled each soft white arm. A painter well Might have been glad to look upon her face, For it was full of beauty, truth, and grace; And from her lustrous eyes her spirit shone Serene, and strong, and still, as from a throne.

A break. Found —— in the breakfast-room. The morning was very unpropitious; but I settled to ride at one, if it was tolerably fine then. He remained pottering a long time: when he was gone, practised, habited, went in, for a few minutes, to Mrs. ——. At one the horses came; but mine was brought without a stirrup, so we had to wait, Lord knows how long, till the blundering groom had ridden back for it. At length we mounted. "Handsome is that handsome does," is verity; and, therefore, pretty as was my steed, I wished its good looks and itself at the devil, before I was halfway down Chestnut Street. It pranced, and danced, and backed me once right upon the pavement. We took the Laurel Hill road. The day was the perfection of gloom—the road six inches deep in heavy mud. We walked the whole way out! my father got the cramp, and lost his temper. At Laurel Hill we dismounted, and walked down to the river side. How melancholy it all looked! the turbid rhubarby water, the skeleton woods, the grey sky, and far winding away of the dark rocky shores; yet it was fine even in this gloom, and wonderfully still. The clouds did not move,—the water had not the faintest ripple,—the trees did not stir a branch; the most perfect and profound trance seemed to have fallen upon every thing. —— and I scrambled down the rocks towards the water, expatiating on the capabilities of this place, which was once a country-seat, and with very little expense might be made a very enchanting as well as a very comfortable residence; always excepting, of course, the chance of fever and ague during the summer months, when the whole of the banks of the Schuylkill, high and rocky as they are, are considered so unhealthy, that the inhabitants are obliged to leave their houses until the winter season, when the country naturally loses half its attractions. At half-past three, we mounted, and, crossing the river, returned home by a much better road. My horse, however, was decidedly a brute,—pulled my arms to pieces, cantered with the wrong leg foremost, trotted in a sort of scuttling fashion, that rendered it utterly impossible to rise in the stirrup, and, instead of walking, jogged the breath out of my body. I was fairly done up when we reached home. Dressed, and dined; —— dined with us. After dinner, went and sat with Mrs. ——. So it seems Carolina is in a state of convulsion. Reports have arrived that the Nullifiers and Unionists have had a fight in Charleston, and that lives have been lost. "Bide a wee," as the Scotchman says; we talk a good deal on the other side the water of matters that are far enough off; but as for America, the problem is not yet solved—and this very crisis (a more important one than has yet occurred in the political existence of this country) is threatening to slacken the bonds of brotherhood between the states, and shake the Union to its centre. The interests of the northern states are totally different from, and in some respects opposite to, those of the southern ones. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The tariff question is the point in debate; and the Carolinians have, it seems, threatened to secede from the Union in consequence of the policy pursued with regard to that. I was horrified at Dr. ——'s account of the state of the negroes in the south. To teach a slave to read or write is to incur a penalty either of fine or imprisonment. They form the larger proportion of the population, by far; and so great is the dread of insurrection on the part of the white inhabitants, that they are kept in the most brutish ignorance, and too often treated with the most brutal barbarity, in order to insure their subjection. Oh! what a breaking asunder of old manacles there will be, some of these fine days; what a fearful rising of the black flood; what a sweeping away, as by a torrent, of oppressions and tyrannies; what a fierce and horrible retaliation and revenge for wrong so long endured—so wickedly inflicted. When I came in to tea, at half-past eight, found Dr. —— there. * * * * * When he was gone, sang a song or two, like a crow in the quinsy. * * * * *