■:ri/;iu:.»:. UBRARY OF CONGRESS DDD13t.DlEE7 L E T T B E S FROM NEW YORK. LETTERS FROM :N^ E W YORK. FIRST AND SECOND SERIES. . BY L. MAEIA CHILD, AUTHOR OF "PHILOTHEA," "THE MOTHER'S BOOK," '*THE GIRL's BOOK," "flowers FOR CHILDREN," ETC. " Every gift of noble origin Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath." Wordsworth. LONDON: F. PITMAN, 20 PATERNOSTER ROW. EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES & CO. GLASGOW: T. D. MORISON. 1879. F \'l-i GLASGOW : PRINTED BY H. NISBET AND 00. ^-^ r 7 PEE FACE. There are tliouglits that live and breathe that cannot die, for •they are emanations from an immortal source; such are those from the pen of the gifted authoress of "Letters from New York" I doubt not but the reprinting of these Letters in this country will be a boon to many. Mrs. Lydia Maria Child was one of those noble band of women whose heroic souls were tried in the fire of the old anti-slavery days. Her "Appeal " was the principal tract issued hj the Abolitionists, and her friends and coadjutors were the heroes and heroines of that day. I had the privilege when in America of visiting her home, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell, of Boston. Mrs. Child received us with graceful cordiality. Her home is among the flowers she has planted, and she herself is a lovely spirit, looking toward sunset with the light of heaven on her brow, for she is seventy-seven years of age. We sat as charmed listeners to her conversation, which is as enter- taining as her writings. There are some souls to whom it is given to develope the glorious possibilities of the human VI PREFACE. spirit in themselves and others. Tliey see the soul of things, and the expression of their thoughts seems to lift one up to a diviner life, and for the time we walk Paradise unconsciously ; and yet this lady of rare culture, learning, and refinement, is intensely practical, and believes in the dignity of labour, keeping her own home in beautiful order with her own hands* I find in Appleton's American Cyclopaedia the following : — Lydia Maria Child, an American Authoress, born at Med- ford, Mass., Feb. 11, 1802. In 1824 she published her first book, "Holernok, an Indian Story," which was followed the next year by "The Kebels, a Tale of the Hevolution." The scene was laid in Massachusetts, and some of the characters were the historical men of tliat period. The book for several years held its place as a standard novel, the time and events with which it dealt giving it a strong hold upon the popular esteem. A speech which she put into the mouth of James Otis was believed by many to have been actually delivered by him. A sermon of White- field's was also given, which was inserted in the New England School Reading Books as a genuine sermon of the great preacher. In 1826 she commenced the "Juvenile Miscellany," a monthly Magazine, which, for eight years, was under her management. She published a cookery book under the title of "The American Frugal Housewife," which later publications upon the same subject have not displaced. In October, 1828, she was married to David Lee Child, PREFACE. ' Vll a lawyer of Boston. "The Girl's Own Book/' and "The Mother's Book" (1831), testified to her strong interest iii practical education. About this time the anti-slavery move- ment was commenced in Boston, and Mrs. Child identified herself with it at the beginning. One of the first distinctive anti-slavery books was her "Appeal in behalf of that Class of Americans called Africans," in which she advocated the im- mediate emancipation of the blacks. This is her largest and most comprehensive work upon the subject of slavery, but it was followed in subsequent years by various smaller publications of a similar character. In 1836 she published "Philothea," a Grecian Bomance of the time of Pericles and Aspasia. In 1841, she removed to New York to take charge as Editor of the " National Anti-slavery Standard," of which she remained Editor, assisted by Mr. Child, for two years. In its columns she commenced a series of "Letters from New York," which, with others written subsequently, were collected in two volumes — 1843-1844. She afterwards published a " History of the Condition'of "Women in all Ages and Nations" (2 vols., 1845). "Biographies of Good Wives" (1846), and several volumes of Stories for Children. In 1859 she wrote a Letter of Sympathy to John Brown, which involved her in a correspondence with Governor Wise and Mrs. Mason of Virginia. This correspondence was published in pamphlet form, of which over 300,000 copies were circulated. Her other works are — "Life of Isaac T. Hopper," 1853; "Progress Vlll PREFACE. of Eeligious Ideas" (3 vols., 1855); "Autumnal Leaves" (1857); "Looking Toward Sunset" (1860); "The Freedman's Book" (1865); and "A Romance of the Eepublic" (1867). I may add, that among Mrs. Child's treasures, I saw a portrait on her parlour wall of her late husband, and under- neath was written — "David Lee Child, a learned, just, and loving soul; went hence, August, 1873." And so Mrs. Child is a widow, but she has had the rare happiness of being sus- tained by a noble husband in doing work for humanity, and ever " the prophet's hands have been held heavenward to the going down of the sun." Margaret E. Parker. Dundee, October, 1879. CONTENTS. FIRST SERIES. LETTER I. PAGE The Battery in the Morning — Streets of Modern Babylon — Street Musicians, ---------- 1 LETTER II. VVashingtonians — Law of Love and Law of Force — Trusting in" each other's Honesty — The Dog-Killers, 4 LETTER III. Sectarian Walls — Ideas of God — The poor Woman's Garden — The Five Points — Society makes the Crime it Punishes, - - - 9 LETTER IV. Hoboken — Weehawken — Hamilton's Duel — Indian Sarcasm, - - 13 LETTER Y. Highland Benevolent Society — Clans and Sects, - - - - 17 LETTER VI. The Jews — Black Jews— Old Clothes — Reading by Lamplight in the Day-Time, 20 LETTER VII. Rev. John Summerfield — The Farmer crazed by Speculators — Green- wood Cemetery — Wearing Mourning, - - - - - 28 LETTER VIII. The Shipping— The Yankee Boy and the Emperor of Russia— The Kamschatka and La Belle Poule, 32 LETTER IX. Grant Thorburn, the Original of Gait's "Lawrie Todd"— Ravens- wood, -----------39 X CONTENTS. LETTER X. PAGE Varieties of Character and Changing of Population of New York — Anecdote of Absent Men — The Bagpipe Player — Burial of a Stranger in the Western Forest, 45 LETTER XL The Coloured Methodist Preacher — Story of Zeek, the Shrewd Slave, - 48 LETTER XIL The New Year — Past and Future — ^lusic written on Sand by Vibra- tion — Caution to Reformers, 56 LETTER XIII. Scenery within the Soul — Valley de Sham — Truth in Act as well as Word, f)0 LETTER XIV. Newspaper Boy — The Foreign Boys and their Mother — The Drunken Woman — The Burying Ground for the Poor, - - - - 65 LETTER XV. Macdonald Clarke, the Mad Poet, 70 LETTER XVI. A Great Fire — Jane Plato's Garden — Money is not Wealth, - - 77 LETTER XVII. Doves in Broadway — The Dove and the Pirate — Prisoners and Doves — Doddridge's Dream — Genius Inspired by Holiness, - 82 LETTER XVIII. Origin of Manhattan — Antiquities of New York — David Reynolds —The Fish and the Ring, 86 LETTER XIX. Animal Magnetism — The Soul Watching its own Body — An Anec- dote of Second Sight, 93 CONTENTS. XI LETTER XX. page The Birds — Anecdote of Petion's Daughter — The Bird, the Snake, and the White Ash — Story of my Swallows — The Sjjanish Par- rot, 98 LETTER XXI. Staten Island — Sailor's Snug Harbour, 105 LETTER XXII. The Non-Resisting Colony, 108 LETTER XXIII. The Florida Slave-trader, and Patriarch— Boswell's remarks on the Slave Trade— The Fixed Point of A iew, Ill LETTER XXIV. The Red Roof —The little Child Picking a White Clover— Music and Fireworks at Castle Garden, - - 119 LETTER XXV. Rockland Lake — Major Andre — The Dutch Farmers, - - - 124 LETTER XXVL Flowers — All Being Spirally Linked, - 132 LETTER XXVII. Music and Light — The Musical Instrument Invented by Guzikow —Music of the Planets— The Burning Bell Tower at Hamburg — Mysterious Music in Pacagoula Bay — The Mocking Bird and the Bob-o'-Link — The Response of Musical Instruments to each other, 136 LETTER XXVIII. The little Match Girl— Beautiful Anecdote of a Street Musician — Anecdote of a Spanish Donkey — Horses Tamed by Kindness — The one Voice, which Brought a Discordant Choir into Har- mony, 143 Xll CONTENTS. LETTER XXIX. page Blackwell's Island — Long Island Farms — Anecdote from Silvio Pellico — A Model Aims-House among the Society of Friends, - 148 LETTER XXX. Croton Water — The Fountains — Fear of Public Opinion — Social Freedom — Anecdote of the little Boy that ran away from Pro- vidence, ----------- 158 LETTER XXXI. Capital Punishment — Conversation with Wm. Ladd — Two Anec- dotes, Showing the Danger of Trusting to Circumstantial Evidence, - - - 164 LETTER XXXII. Mercy to Criminals — Mrs. Fry's Answer made Good by being Beloved ; Still Higher to Love Others, 1 73 LETTER XXXIII. Catholic Church — Pusejdsm — Worship of Irish Labourers — Anec- dote of the Irish, 178 LETTER XXXIV. Woman's Rights, 184 LETTER XXXV. Lightning Daguerrotype — Electricity — Effects of Climate, - - 190 LETTER XXXVI. The Indians, 196 LETTER XXXVII. Green Old Age — Swedenborg and Fourier, 203 LETTER XXXVIII. The Snow Storm— The Cold-Footed, Warm-Hearted little Ones, - 207 CONTENTS. XIU LETTER XXXIX. page The Ministrations of Sorrow, - -- - - - - -211 LETTER XL. Mid-Day in New York — Storks of Nuremberg — All Nations are Brethren, 214 SECOND SEBIES. LETTER I. Christmas — The principles of Peace — The Town that would not Fight — A Christmas Visitor to the Poor — High Rents paid by the Poor in New York ; their kindness to each other, - - 219 LETTER II. Ole Bui heard for the first time — The vast significance of Music, - 225 • LETTER III. New Year's Festivities — The Callithumpian Band — The Nymph Crotona, 230 LETTER IV. Reminiscences of a former State of Existence — The Remembered Home, 233 LETTER V. The Story of poor Charity Bowery, 246 LETTER VI. Mnemonics, or Artificial Memory — Wonderful instances of Memory — Anecdote of Voltaire ; of Pope Clement 6th — Systems of Mnemonics — Dickens' Christmas Carol, 253 LETTER VII. Valentme's Day — Story of the Umbrella Girl and Lord Henry Stuart, 260 XIV CONTENTS. LETTER VIIT. page Description of Mammoth Cave, 267 LETTER IX. A Walk down Broadway — The little Hoop-Girl and her Brother, - 283 LETTER X. Hope Always — Human Progress — Emancipation in the British West Indies — The position of Ireland — O'Comiell, - - - - 285 LETTER XI. Driesbach's Menagerie — Lectures on Anatomy — Analogy between the circulation of the Blood and the progress of Truth in Society, 292 LETTER XII. Spiritual Correspondences, illustrated largely by Music — Correspon- dence of Light, of Water, of Oil, of Clothing, - - - - 297 LETTER XIII. A popular definition of the original application of the word Trans- cendental — The Transcendental Style of Writing — Playful ac- count of a Transcendental Conversation, 305 LETTER XIV. Anecdotes of Hannah Adams, - 310 LETTER XV. Animals — Judge Edmonds and the Kitten — Amusing Anecdote of a Fox — Traditions concerning Pythagoras, - - - - 316 LETTER XVI. Waste Lands of Virginia— The Deserted Church, - - - .-321 LETTER XVII. The Eccentric German— The Burgomaster of Stuttgard — Swabian Bonnets, 325 CONTENTS. XV LETTER XVIII. pagb Fourth of July — Fireworks — Native Americans and Foreigners, - .334 LETTER XIX. Children in Union Park — The House covered with Vines — Fountains — Bath for the Poor — Croton Water — The Alhambra — Phil- harmonic Concerts — Italian Opera — Castle Garden — Niblo's Garden — Vauxhall — The Night Blooming Cereus — Hoboken — American Museum — Theatres, 338 LETTER XX. Genius and Skill — The Romance of Thot and Freia, - - - 345 LETTER XXI. Steamboat Excursions — Music — Saturn and the Earth — The Sailor's Home — Institution at Rennes — The large-souled Mechanic, - 360 LETTER XXII. Swedenborg's Views of the Future Life — The Doctrine of Correspon- dence — Spiritual Correspondences of Music, - . . . 3(55 LETTER XXIII. The Arts' Union — Bonfield, Cropsey, Leutze, Crawford, Powers, Kneeland, 375 LETTER XXIV. Greenwood Cemetery — The apparently Dead restored to Life — Chime of Bells in Philadelphia— The Swiss Bell-Ringers, - - 378 LETTER XXV. The Violin — EflFects of Scenery on Music — The Northmen — Ex- pression of Scotch and Irish ]\Iusic — Lizst's Piano-playing — Lines to Ole Bui, 384 LETTER XXVI. The Millerites — Sir Harry Falkland — Various calculations concern- ing the End of the World, 389 XVI CONTENTS. LETTER XXVII. paoe Autumn Woods — Mountains — Profitable investments in Religion — President Edwards, 394 LETTER XXVIII. Spirit of Trade — Amusing Advertisements — Razor Strops — Luck and Knack — Self -Love — Thorough Bass, or Fundamental Har- mony—The Perfect Chord of Music and of Colours — Fourier's Perfect Social Chord— The Major and Minor Mode, - - 399 LETTER XXIX. The Prison Association — Encouragement instead of Driving — The Criminal's account of her brief Trial — Anecdotes of individuals saved by the kindness of Isaac T. Hopper — Gentleness toward the Insane — Dorothea L. Dix, - 107 LETTER XXX. Ole Bui's Niagara and Solitude of the Prairie — Genius and Criticism — Anecdote of Haydn and Beethoven — The tone of an Instru- ment changed by the manner of playing upon it, - - - 418 LETTER XXXI. Increase of Luxury in New York — Employment essential to Happi- ness — Women peculiarly injured by the want of high motives to Exertion, 423 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. LETTER I. THE BATTERY IN THE MORNING — STREETS OF MODERN BABYLON — STREET MUSICIANS. August 19, 1841. You ask what is now my opinion of this great Babylon; and playfully remind me of former philippics, and a long string of vituperative alliterations, such as magnificence and mud, finery and filth, diamonds and dirt, bullion and brass-tape, &c., (fee. Nor do you forget my first impressions of the city, when we arrived at early dawn, amid fog and drizzling rain, the expiring lamps adding their smoke to the impure air, and close beside us a boat called the ''Fairy Queen," laden with dead hogs. "Well, this Babylon remains the same as then. The din of crowded life, and the eager chase for gain, still run through its streets, like the perpetual murmur of a hive. Wealth dozes on couches, thrice piled, and canopied with damask, while poverty camps on the dirty pavement, or sleeps off its wretch- edness in the watch-house. There, amid the splendour of Broadway, sits the blind negro beggar, with horny hand and tattered garments, while opposite stands the stately mansions of the old slave trader, railway and stock jobber, still laughing to scorn the cobweb laws, through which the strong can break so easily. In Wall Street, and elsewhere, Mammon, as usual, coolly calculates his chance of extracting a penny from war, pesti- lence, and famine; and Commerce, with her loaded drays, and iaded skeletons of horses, is as busy as ever "fulfilling the world's contract with Satan." The noisy discord of the street- cries gives the ear no rest; and the weak voice of weary child- hood often makes the heart ache for the poor little wanderer, prolonging his task far into the hours of night. Sometimes, A 2 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. the harsh sounds are pleasantly varied by some feminine voice, proclaiming, in musical cadence, " Hot corn ! hot corn ! " with the poetical addition, "Lily white corn. Buy my lily white corn!" When this sweet, wandering voice salutes my ear, my heart replies — *' 'Tis a glancing gleam o' the gift of song — And the soul that speaks hath suffered WTong. " There was a time when all these things would have passed by me, like the flitting figures of the magic lantern, or the changing scenery of a theatre, sufficient only for the amuse- ment of an hour. But now, I have lost the inclination for looking merely on the surface. Every condition seems to me to come from the Infinite, to be filled with the Infinite, to be tending towards the Infinite. Do I see crowds of men hasten- ing to extinguish a fire ? I see not merely uncouth garbs, and fantastic, flickering lights, of lurid hue, like a trampling trooj) of gnomes — but straightway my mind is filled with thoughts about mutual helpfulness, human sympathy, the common bond of brotherhood, and the mysteriously deep foundations on which society rests; or rather, on which it so often reels and totters. But I am cutting the lines deep, when I meant only to give you an airy, unfinished sketch. I will answer your question, by saying that, though New York remains the same, I like it better. This is partly because I am like the Lady's Delight, ever prone to take root, and look up with a smile, in whatever soil you place it ; and partly because bloated disease, and black gutters, and pigs filthy and ugly, no longer constitute the fore- ground in my picture of New York. I have become more familiar with the pretty parks, dotted about here and there; with the shaded alcoves of the various public gardens; with blooming nooks, and " sunny spots of greenery." I am fast inclining to the belief, that the Battery rivals our beautiful Boston Common. The fine old trees are indeed wanting ; but the newly-planted groves ofler the light, flexible gracefulness of youth, to compete with their matured majesty of age. In extent, and variety of surface, this noble promenade is greatly inferior to ours; but there is "The sea, the sea, the open sea; The fresh, the bright, the ever free." Most fitting emblem of the Infinite, this trackless pathway of a world ! heaving and stretching to meet the sky it never LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 6 reaches — like the eager, unsatisfied aspirations of the human soul. The most beautiful landscape is imperfect without this feature. In the eloquent language of Lamartine, "The sea is to the scenes of nature what the eye is to a fine countenance; it illuminates the face, it imparts to the features that radiant physiognomy, which makes them live, speak, enchant, and fascinate the affections of those who contemplate them." If you deem me heretical in preferring the Battery to the Common, consecrated by so many pleasant associations of my youth, I know you will forgive me, if you go there in the silence of midnight, to feel the breeze on your cheek, like the kiss of a friend ; to hear the continual plashing of the sea, like the cool sound of oriental fountains; to see the moon look lovingly on the sea-nymphs, and throw down wealth of jewels on their shining hair; to look on the ships in their dim and distant beauty, each containing within itself a little world of human thought, and human passion. Or go, when "night, with her thousand diamond eyes, looks down into the heart, making it tender" — when shadows float above us, dark and solemn, scarcely reflecting their image in the black mirror of the ocean. The city lamjDS around you, like a shining belt of descended constellations, fit for the zone of Urania; while the pure bright stars peep through the dancing foliage, and speak to the soul of thoughtful shepherds on the ancient plains of Chaldea. And there, also, like mimic Fancy, playing fantastic freaks in the very presence of heavenly Imagination, stands Castle Garden — with its gay perspective of coloured lamps, like a fairy grotto, where imprisoned fire-spirits send up sparkling wreaths, or rockets laden with glittering ear-drops, caught by the floating sea-nymphs, as they fall. But if you would see the Battery in all its glory, look at it when, through the misty mantle of retreating dawn, is seen the golden light of the rising sun! Look at the horizon, where earth, sea, and sky, kiss each other, in robes of reflected glory ! The ships stretch their sails to the coming breeze, and glide majestically along — fit and graceful emblems of the past ; steered by necessity; the will constrained by outward force. Quickly the steam-boat passes them by — its rapidly revolving wheel made golden by the sunlight, and dropping diamonds to the laughing Nereids, profusely as pearls from Prince Ester- hazy's embroidered coat. In that steamer, see you not an appropriate type of the busy, powerful, self-conscious present \ 1 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. Of man's will conquering outward force; and tlius making the elements his servants 1 From this southern extremity of the city, anciently called " The Wall of the Half-Moon," you may, if you like, pass along the Bowery to Bloomingdale, on the north. What a combina- ation of flowery sounds to take captive the imagination ! It is a pleasant road, much used for fashionable drives; but the lovely names scarcely keep the promise they give the ear; especially to one accustomed to the beautiful environs of Boston. During your ramble, you may meet wandering musicians. Perhaps a poor Tyrolese, with his street-organ, or a Scotch Highlander, with shrill bag-pipe, decorated with tartan ribbons. Let them who will, despise their humble calling. Small skill, indeed, is needed to grind forth that machinery of sounds ; but my heart salutes them with its benison, in common with all things that cheer this weary world. I have little sympathy with the severe morality that drove these tuneful idlers from the streets of Boston. They are to the drudging city, what spring birds are to the country. The world has passed from its youthful, troubadour age, into the thinking, toiling age of in- cessant labour. This we may not regret, because it needs must be. But welcome, most welcome, all that brings back remi- niscences of its childhood, in the cheering voice of poetry and song! Therefore blame me not, if I turn wearily aside from the dusty road of reforming duty, to gather flowers in sheltered nooks, or play with gems in hidden grottoes. The practical has striven hard to sufibcate the ideal within me; but it receives glimpses of heaven and is immortal, and therefore it cannot die. It needs but a glance of beauty from earth or sky, and it starts into blooming life, like the aloe touched by fairy wand. LETTER II. WASHINGTONIANS — LAW OF LOVE AND LAW OF FORCE — TRUSTING IN EACH other's HONESTY — THE DOG-KILLERS. August 26, 1841. You think my praises of the Battery exaggerated; perhaps they are so; but there are some points on which I am exuber- LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 5 ant — nrnsic, moonliglit, and the sea. There are other points, also, besides, on which most American juries would be prone to convict me of hallucination. You know a wise lawyer defined insanity to be "a differing in opinion from the mass of man- kind." By this rule, I am as mad as a March hare; though, as Andrew Fairservice said, " Why a March hare should be more mad in March than in Michaelmas, is more than I ken." I admit that Boston, in her extensive and airy common, pos- sesses a blessing beyond other cities, but I am not the less dis2:)0sed to be thankful for the circumscribed, but well-shaded limits of the Washington Parade Ground, and Union Park, with its nicely trimmed circle of hedge, its well-rolled gravel walks, and its velvet greensward, shaven as smooth as a Quaker beau. The exact order of its arrangement would be offensive in the country; and even here the eye of taste would prefer variations and undulation of outline ; but trimness seems more in place in a city, than amid the graceful confusion of nature; and neatness has a charm in New York, by reason of its ex- ceeding rarity. St. John's Park, though not without pretensions to beauty, never strikes my eye agreeably, because it is shut up from the common people; being kept only for a few genteel families in the vicinity. You know I am an enemy to mono- polies; wishing all Heaven's good gifts to man to be as free as the wind, and as universal as the sunshine. I like the various small gardens in New York, with their alcoves of lattice-work, where one can eat an ice-cream shaded from the sun. You have none such in Boston ; and they would probably be objected to, as open to the vulgar and the vicious. I do not walk through the world with such fear of soiling my garments. Let science, literature, music, flowers, all things that tend to cultivate the intellect, or humanize the heart, be open to " Tom, Dick, and Harry;" and thus, in process of time, they will become Mr. Thomas, Bichard, and Henry. In all these things, the refined should think of what they can impart, not of what they can receive. As for the vicious, they excite in me more of compassion than reproach. The great Searcher of Hearts alone knows whether I should not have been as they are, wath the same neglected childhood, the same vicious examples, the same powerful temptations of misery and want. If they will but pay to virtue the outward homage of decorum, God forbid that I should wish to exclude them from the healthful breeze, b LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. and the shaded promenade. "Wretched enough are they in their degradation ; nor is society so guiltless of their ruin, as to justify any of its members in cherishing unpitying scorn. And this reminds me that in this vast emporium of wealth, poverty, and crime, there are, morally speaking, some flowery nooks, and " sunny spots of greenery." I used to say, I knew not where were the ten righteous men to save the city; but I have found them now. Since then, the Washington Tem- perance Society has been organised, and active in good works. Apart from the physical purity, the triumph of soul over sense, implied in abstinence from stimulating liquors, these societies have peculiarly interested me, because they are based on the law of love. The pure is inlaid in the holy, like a pearl set in fine gold. Here is no attendance upon the lobbies of legisla- tures, none of the bustle or manoeuvres of political party; mea- sures as useless in the moral world, as machines to force water above its level are in the ph^'sical world. Serenely above all these, stands this new Genius of Temperance; her trust in Heaven, her hold on the human heart. To the fallen and the perishing she throws a silken cord, and gently draws him within the golden circle of human brotherhood. She has learned that persuasion is mightier than coercion, that the voice of en- couragement finds an echo in the heart deeper, far deeper, than the thunder of reproof. The blessing of the perishing, and of the merciful God, who cares for them, will rest upon the temperance societies. A short time since, one of its members found an old acquaintance lying asleep in a dirty alley, scarcely covered with filthy rags, pinned and tied together. Being waked, the poor fellow exclaimed, in piteous tones, " Oh don't take me to the Police Police — please don't take me there." " Oh, no," replied the missionary of mercy; " you shall have shoes to your feet, and a decent coat on your back, and be a man again. We have better work for you to do than to lie in prison. You will be a temperance preacher yet." He was comfortably clothed, kindly encouraged, and employ- ment procured for him at the printing office of the Washington Society. He [Gougli] now works steadily all day, and preaches temperance in the evening. Every week I hear of similar instances. Are not these men enough to save a city 1 This society is one among several powerful agencies now at work, to teach society that it makes its own criminals, and then at pro- LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 7 digious loss of time, money, and morals, punishes its own work. The other day, I stood by the wayside while the Washingtonian procession, two miles long, passed by. All classes and trades were represented, with appropriate music and banners. Troops of boys carried little wells and pumps; and on many of the banners were flowing fountains and running brooks. One represented a wife kneeling in gratitude for a husband restored to her and himself; on another, a grouj) of children were joy- fully embracing the knees of a reformed father. Fire companies were there with badges and engines; and military companies, with gaudy colours and tinsel trappings. Toward the close, came two barouches, containing the men who first started a temperance society on the Washingtonian plan. These six indi- viduals were a carpenter, a coach-maker, a tailor, a blacksmith, a wheelwright, and a silver-plater. They held their meetings in a carpenter's shop, in Baltimore, before any other person took an active part in the reform. My heart paid them reverence as they passed. It was a beautiful pageant, and but one thing was wanting to make it complete; there should have been carts drawn by garlanded oxen, filled with women and little children, bearing a banner, on which was inscribed, we ARE HAPPY now! I missed the women and the children; for without something to repiesent the genial influence of domestic life, the circle of joy and hope is ever incomplete. But the absent ones were present to my mind; and the pressure of many thoughts brought tears to my eyes. I seemed to see John the Baptist preparing a pathway through the wilderness for the coming of the Holiest; for like unto his is this mission of temperance. Purified senses are fitting vessels for pure afiections and lofty thoughts. AVithin the outward form I saw, as usual, spiritual significance. As the bodies of men were becoming weaned from stimulating drinks, so were their souls beginning to approach those pure fountains of living Avater, which refresh and strengthen, but never intoxicate. The music, too, was revealed to me in fulness of meaning. Much of it was of a military character, and cheered onward to combat and to victory. Eveiything about war I loathe and detest, except its music. My heart leaps at the trumpet-call, and marches with the drum. Because I can- not ever hate it, I know that it is the utterance of something good, perverted to a ministry of sin. It is the voice of resist- O LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. ance to evil, of combat with the false ; therefore the brave soul springs forward at the warlike tone, for in it is heard a call to its appointed mission. Whoso does not see that genuine life is a battle and a march, has poorly read his origin and his destiny. Let the trumpet sound, and the drums roll ! Glory to resist- ance ! for through its agency men become angels. The instinct awakened by martial music is noble and true ; and therefore its voice will not pass away; but it will cease to represent war with carnal weapons, and remain a type of that spiritual combat with internal evils, whereby the soul is purified. It is right noble to fight with wickedness and wrong; the mistake is in supposing that spiritual evil can be overcome by physical weapons. Would that Force were banished to the unholy region whence it came, and that men would learn to trust more fully in the law of kindness. I think of this, every time I pass a dozing old woman, who, from time immemorial, has sat behind a fruit stall at the corner of St. Paul's Church. Half the time she is asleep, and the wonder is that any fruit remains upon her board; but in this wicked city very many of the boys deposit a cent, as they take an apple; for they have not the heart to wrong one who trusts them. A sea-captain of my acquaintance, lately returned from China, told me that the Americans and English were much more trusted by the natives, than their own countrymen; that the fact of belonging to those nations was generally considered good security in a bargain. I expressed surprise at this; not supposing the Yankees, or their ancestors, were peculiarly dis- tinguished for generosity in trade. He replied, that they were more so in China than at home; because, in the absence of adequate laws, and legal penalties, they had acquired the habit of trusting in each other's honour and honesty ; and this formed a bond so sacred, that few were willing to break it. I saw deep significance in the fact. Speaking of St. Paul's Church, near the Astor House, reminds me of the fault so often found by foreigners with our light grey stone, as a material for Gothic edifices. Though this church is not Gothic, I now understand why such buildings contrast dis- advantageously with the dark-coloured cathedrals of Europe. St. Paul's has lately been covered with a cement of reddish- brown sand. Some complain that it looks like gingerbread; but, for myself, I greatly like the depth of colour. Its steeple LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 9 now stands relieved against the sky, with a sombre grandeur, which would be in admirable keeping with the massive pro- portions of Gothic architecture. Grey and slate colour appro- priately belong to lighter styles of building; applied to the- Gothic, they become like tragic thoughts uttered in mirthful tones. The disagreeables of New York I deliberately mean to keep out of sight, when I write to you. By contemplating beauty, the character becomes beautiful; and in this depressing and wearisome world, I deem it a duty to speak genial words, and wear cheerful looks. Yet, for once, I will depart from this rule to speak of the dog-killers. Twelve or fifteen hundred of these animals have been killed this summer, in the hottest of the weather, at the rate of three hundred a-day. The safety of the city doubtless requires their expulsion; but the manner of it strikes me as exceedingly cruel and demoralising. The poor creatures are knocked down on the pavement and beat to death. Whether brutal scenes do not prepare the minds of the young to take part in bloody riots and revolutions, is a serious question. You promised to take my letters as they happened to come — fanciful, gay, or serious. I am in autumnal mood to-day, therefore, forgive the sobriety of my strain. LETTER III. SECTARIAN WALLS — IDEAS OF GOD — THE POOR WOMAN'S GARDEN— THE FIVE POINTS — SOCIETY MAKES THE CRIME IT PUNISHES. September 2, 1841. Oh, these moist, sultry days of August! how oppressive they are to the mind and body! The sun reflected from bright red walls, like the shining face of a heated cook. Strange to say, they are painted red, blocked off" with white compartments, as numerous as Protestant sects, and as unlovely in their narrow- ness. What an expenditure for ugliness and discomfort to the eye ! To paint bricks their own colour, resembles the great outlay of time and money in many theological schools, to enable 10 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. dismal, arbitrary souls to give an approved image of themselves in their ideas of Deity. After all, the God within us is the God we really believe in, whatever we may have learned in catechisms or creeds. Hence to some, the divine image presents itself habitually as a dark, solemn shadow, saddening the gladsomeness of earth, like thunder-clouds reflected on the fair mirror of the sea. To others, the religious sentiment is to the soul what spring is in the seasons, creating flowers to the eye, and music to the ear. In the greater proportion of minds these sentiments are mixed, and therefore two images are reflected, one to be worshipped with love, the other ^vith fear. Hence, in Catholic countries, you meet at one corner of the road frightfully painted hell-fires, into which poor struggling human souls are sinking; and at another, the sweet Madonna, with her eye of pity and her lip of love. Whenever God ap- pears to the eye of faith as terrible in power, and stern in vengeance, the soul craves some form of mediation, and thus satisfies its want. As the reprobate college-boy trusts to a mother's persuasive love to intercede for him with an angry father, so does the Catholic, terrified with visions of torment, look up trustingly to the " Blessed mother. Virgin mild." Not lightly, or scornfully, would I speak of any such mani- festations of faith, childish as they may appear to the eye of reason. The Jewish dispensation was announced in thunder and lightning; the Christian, by a chorus of love from angel voices. The dark shadow of the one has fearfully thrown itself across the mild radiance of the other. Those old superstitious times could not well do otherwise than mix their dim theology with the new-born glorious hope. Well may we rejoice that they could not transmit the blessed idea completely veiled in gloom. Since the past will overlap upon the present, and therefore Christianity must slowly evolve itself from Judaism, let us at least be thankful that, " From the same grim turret fell The shadoiv and the song.'" Whence came all this digression? It has as little to do with New York, as a seraph has to do with banks and markets. Yet in good truth, it all came from a painted brick w^all staring in at my chamber window. What a strange thing is the mind ! How marvellously is the infinite embodied in the smallest fragments of the finite ! LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 11 It was ungrateful in me to complain of those walls, for I am more blest in my prospect than most inhabitants of cities ; even without allowing for the fact that more than others, I always see within or beyond a landscape — " a light and a revealing," every where. Opposite to me is a little patch of garden, trimly kept, and neatly white-washed. In the absence of rippling brooks and blooming laurel, I am thankful for its marigolds and poppies, -"side by side, And at each end a hollyhock, With an edge of London pride." And then between me and the sectarian brick wall, there are, moreover, two beautiful young trees. An Ailanthus twisting its arms lovingly within its smaller sister Catalpa. One might almost imagine them two lovely nymphs suddenly transformed to trees in the midst of a graceful twining dance. I should be half reluctant to cut a cluster of the beautiful crimson seed-vessels, lest I should wound the finger of some Hamadryad, ** Those simple crown-twisters, Who of one favourite tree in some sweet spot. Make home and leave it not." But I must quit this strain ; or you will say the fair, floating Grecian shadow casts itself too obviously over my Christianity. Perchance, you will even call me " transcendental;" that being a word of most elastic signification, used to denote everything that has no name in particular, and that does not especially relate to pigs and poultry. Have patience with me, and I will come straight back from the Ilissus to New York — thus. You, too, would worship two little trees and a sunflower, if you had gone with me to the neighbourhood of the Five Points, the other day. Morally and physically, the breathing air was like an open tomb. How souls or bodies could live there, I could not imagine. If you want to see something worse than Hogarth's Gin Lane, go there in a warm afternoon, when the poor w^retches have come to what they call home, and are not yet driven within doors, by darkness and constables. There you will see nearly every form of human misery, every sign of human degradation. The leer of the licentious, the dull sen- sualism of the drunkard, the sly glance of the thief — oh, it made my heart ache for many a day. I regretted the errand 12 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. of kindness tliat drew me there ; for it stunned my senses with the amount of evil, and fell upon the strong hopefulness of my character, like a stroke of palsy. What a place wherein to ask one's self, " Will the millenium ever cornel" And there were also multitudes of children — of little girls. Where were their guardian angels 1 God be praised, the wil- fully committed sin alone shuts out their influence ; and there- fore into the young child's soul angels may always enter. Mournfully, I looked upon these young creatures, as I said within myself, " And this is the education society gives her children — the morality of myrmidons, the charity of constables V Yet in the far-off future I saw a gleam. For these, too, Christ has died. For these was the chorus sung over the hills of Judea; and the heavenly music will yet find an echo deep in their hearts. It is said a spacious pond of sweet, soft water once occupied the place where Five Points stands. It might have furnished half the city with the purifying element; but it was filled up at incredible expense — a million loads of earth being thrown in, before perceivable progress was made. Now, they have to supply the city with water from a great distance, at a prodi- gious expense in conveying the Croton Water to the city. This is a good illustration of the policy of society toward crime. Thus does it choke up nature, and then seek to protect itself from the result, by the incalculable expense of bolts and bars, the gallows, watch-houses, police courts, constables, and " Egyptian Tombs," as they call one of the principal prisons here. If viewed only as a blunder, Satan might well laugh at the short-sightedness of the world, all the while toiling to build the edifice it thinks it is demolishing. Destroying violence by violence, cunning by cunning, is Sisyphus' work, and must be so to the end. Never shall we bring the angels among us, by " setting one devil up to knock another devil down" j as the old woman said in homely but expressive phrase. LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 13 LETTER IV. HOBOKEN — WEEHAWKEN — HAMILTON'S DUEL INDIAN SARCASM. September 9, 1841. New York enjoys great privilege in facility and cheapness of communication with many beautiful places in the vicinity. For six cents one can exchange the hot and dusty city for Staten Island, Jersey, or Hoboken; three cents will convey you to Brooklyn, and twelve and a half cents pays for a most beautiful sail of ten miles, to Port Lee. In addition to the charm of rural beauty, all these places are bathed by deep waters. The Indians named the most beautiful lake of New England Win-ne-pe-sauk-ey (by corriiption,"VVinnepiseogee), which means the smile of the Great Spirit. I always think of this name, so expressively poetic, whenever I see sunbeams or moonbeams glancing on the waves. Because this feature is wanting in the landscape, I think our beautiful Massachusetts Brookline, — with its gra.ceful, feathery elms, its majestic old oaks, its innumerable hidden nooks of greenery, and Jamaica pond, that lovely, lucid mirror of the water nymphs — is scarcely equal to Hoboken. I saw it for the first time in the early verdure of spring, and under the mild light of a declining sun. A small open glade, with natural groves in the rear, and the broad river at its foot, bears the imposing name of Elysian Fields. The scene is one where a poet's disembodied spirit might be well content to wander; but, alas ! the city intrudes her vices into this beautiful sanctuary of nature. There stands a public-house, with its bar room, and bowling alley, a place of resort for the idle and the profligate; kept within the bounds of decorum, however, by the constant presence of respectable visitors. Near this house, I found two tents of Indians. These chil- dren of the forest, like the monks of olden time, always had a fine eye for the picturesque. Wherever you find a ruined monastery, or the remains of an Indian encampment, you may be sure you have discovered the loveliest site in all the sur- rounding landscape. A fat little pappoose, round as a tub, with eyes like black 14 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. l^eads, attracted my attention by the comical awkwardness of its tumbling movements. I entered into conversation with the parents, and found they belonged to the remnant of the Penob- scot tribe. This, as Scott says, was " picking up a dropped stitch" in the adventures of my life. "Ah," said I, " I once ate supper with your tribe in a hem- lock forest, on the shores of the Kennebec. Is the old chief, Capt. Neptune, yet alive f' They almost clapped their hands with delight, to find one who remembered Capt. Neptune. I inquired for Etalexis, his nephew, and this was to them another familiar word, which it gave them joy to hear. Long forgotten scenes were restored to memory, and the images of early youth stood distinctly before me. I seemed to see old Neptune and his handsome nephew, a tall, athletic youth, of most graceful proportions. I always used to think of Etalexis, when I read of Benjamin West's exclamation, the first time he saw the Apollo Belvidere : " My God! how like a young Mohawk warrior!" But for years I had not thought of the majestic young Indian, until the meeting in Hoboken again brought him to my mind. I seemed to see him as I saw him last — the very dandy of his tribe — with a broad band of shining brass about his hat, a circle of silver on his breast, tied with scarlet rib- bons, and a long belt of curiously- wrought wampum hanging to his feet. His uncle stood quietly by, pufiing his pipe, undis- turbed by the consciousness of wearing a crushed hat and a dirty blanket. With girlish curiosity, I raised the heavy tassels of the wampum belt, and said playfully to the old man, " Why don't you wear such an one as this?" "What for me wear ribbons and beads'?" he replied: "Me no want to catch 'em squaw." He spoke in the slow imperturbable tone of his race; but there was a satirical twinkle in his small black eye, as if he had sufficiently learned the tricks of civilisation to enjoy mightily any jokes upon women. We purchased a basket in the Elysian Fields, as a memento of these ghosts of the past; preferring an unfinished one of pure white willow, unprofaned by daubs of red and yellow. Last week I again saw Hoboken in the full glory of moon- light. Seen thus, it is beautiful beyond imagining. The dark, thickly shaded groves, where flickering shadows play fantastic LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 15 gambols witli the moonliglit ; the water peeping here and there through the foliage, like the laughing face of a friend; the high, steep banks, wooded down to the margin of the river; the deep loneliness, interrupted only by the Katy-dids; all con- spired to produce an impression of solemn beauty and peace. If you follow this path for about three miles from the land- ing-place, you arrive at "Weehawken; celebrated as the place where Hamilton fought his fatal duel with Burr, and where his son likewise fell in a duel the year preceding. The place is difficult of access; but hundreds of men and women have there engraven their names on a rock nearly as hard as adamant. A monument to Hamilton was here erected at considerable ex- pense ; but it became the scene of such frequent duels, that the gentlemen who raised it caused it to be broken into fragments; it is still, however, frequented for the same bad purpose. What a lesson to distinguished men to be careful of the moral influence they exert! I probably admire Hamilton with less enthusiasm than those who fully sympathise with his conservative tenden- cies; but I find so much to reverence in the character of this early friend of Washington, that I can never sufficiently regret the silly cowardice that led him into so fatal an error. Yet would I speak of it gently, as Pierpoint does in his political poem: " Wert thou spotless in thy exit ? Nay : Nor spotless is the monarch of the day. Still but one cloud shall o'er thy fame be cast — And that shall shade no action, but thy last." A fine statue of Hamilton was wrought by Ball Hughes, which, like all resemblances of him, forcibly reminded one of William Pitt. It was placed in the Exchange, in Wall Street, and was crushed into atoms by the falling in of the roof, at the great fire of 1835. The artist stood gazing on the scene with listless despair; and when this favourite production of his genius, on which he had bestowed the labour of two long years, fell beneath the ruins, he sobbed and wept like a child. The little spot at Weehawken, which led to this digression about Hamilton, is one of the last places which should be dese- crated by the evil passions of man. It is as lovely as a nook of Paradise, before Satan entered its gardens. Where the steep, well-wooded bank descends to the broad, bright Hudson, half way down is a level glade of verdant grass, completely embowered in foliage. The sparkling water peeps between tiu; 15 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. twining boughs, like light through the rich tracery of Gothic windows; and the cheerful twittering of birds alone mingles with the measured cadence of the plashing waves. Here Hamilton fought his duel, just as the sun was rising : " Clouds slumbering at his feet, and the clear blue Of Summer's sky, in beauty bending o'er him — The city bright IdcIow ; and far away, Sparkling in golden light, his own romantic bay." " Tall spire, and glittering roof, and battlement, And banners floating in the sunny air. And white sails o'er the calm blue waters bent. Green isle and circling shore, all blended there, In wild reality." We descended, to return to the steamboat, by an open path on the river's edge. The high bank, among whose silent groves we had been walking, now rose above our heads in precipitous masses of rugged stone, here and there broken into recesses^ which, in the evening light, looked like darksome caverns. Trees bent over the very edge of the summit, and their un- earthed roots twisted among the rocks like huge serpents. On the other side lay the broad Hudson in the moonlight, its waves rippling up to the shore with a cool, refreshing sound. All else was still — still — so fearfully still, that one might almost count the beatings of the heart. That my heart did beat, I acknowledge; for here was the supposed scene of the Mary Kogers tragedy ; and though the recollection of her grave gave me no uneasiness, I could not forget that quiet, lovely path we were treading was near to the city, with its thousand hells, and frightfully easy of access. We spoke of the murdered girl, as we passed the beautiful promontory near the Sibyl's cave, where her body was found, lying half in and half out of the water. A few steps further on, we encountered the first human beings we had met during our long ramble — two young women, singing with a somewhat sad constraint, as if to keep their courage up. I had visited the Sibyl's cave in the day time ; and should have entered its dark mouth by the moonlight, had not the de- pressing remembrances of the city haunted me like evil spirits. We Americans, you know, are so fond of classic names, that we call a village Athens, if it has but three houses, painted red to blush for their own ugliness. Whence this cave derives its imposing title I cannot tell. It is in fact rather a pretty little place, cut out of soft stone, in rude imitation of a Gothic LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 17 interior. A rock in the centre, scooped out like a baptismal font, contains a spring of cool, sweet water. The entire labour of cutting out this cave was performed by one poor Scotchman, with chisel and hammer. He worked upon it an entire year; and probably could not have completed it in less than six months, had he given every day of his time. He expected to derive considerable profit by selling draughts from the spring, and keeping a small fruit stand near it. But alas, for the vanity of human expectations ! a few weeks after he completed his laborious task, he was driven off the grounds, it is said, unrequited by the proprietor. A little before nine, we returned to the city. There was a strong breeze, and the boat bounded over the waves, producing that delightful sensation of elasticity and vigour which one feels when riding a free and fiery steed. The moon, obscured by fleecy clouds, shone with a saddened glory; rockets rose from Castle Garden, and dropped their blazing jewels on the billowy bosom of the bay; the lamps of the city gleamed in the distance; and with painful pity for the houseless street- wanderer, I gratefully remembered that one of those distant lights illuminated a home, where true and honest hearts were every ready to bid me welcome. LETTER V. HIGHLAND BENEVOLENT SOCIETY — CLANS AND SECTS. New York, September 16, 1841. Since I wrote last, I have again visited Hoboken, to see a band of Scotchmen in the old Highland costume. They belong to a Benevolent Society for the relief of indigent countrymen; and it is their custom to meet annually in Gaelic dress, to run, leap, hurl stones, and join in other Highland exercises — in fond remembrance of " The land of rock and glen, ( Of strath and lake, and mountain, And more of gifted men." There were but thirty or forty in number, and a very small proportion of them fine specimens of manhood. There was one young man, however, who was no bad sample of a brave young B 18 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. chief in the olden time ; with athletic frame, frank countenance, bold bearing, and the bright, eager eye of one familiar with rugged hills and the mountain breeze. Before I was told, my eye singled him out, as most likely to bear away the prizes in the games. There was mettle in him, that in another age, and in another clime, would have enabled him to stand beside brave old Torquil of the Oak, and give the cheerful response, " Bas air son Eachin" (Death for Hector). But that age has passed, blessed be G od ; and he was nothing more than a handsome, vigorous Scotch emigrant, skilful in Highland games. The dresses in general, like the wardrobe of a theatre, needed the effect of distance to dazzle the imagination; though two or three of them were really elegant. Green or black velvet, with glittering buttons, was fitted close to the arms and waist; beneath which fell the tartan kilt in ample folds ; from the left shoulder flowed a long mantle of bright-coloured plaid, chosen according to the varieties of individual taste, not as distinguish- ing marks of ancestral clans. Their shaggy pouches, called sporrans, were of plush or fur. From the knee to the ankle, there was no other covering than the Highland buskin of crimson plaid. One or two had dirks, with sheaths and hilts beautifully embossed in silver, and ornamented with large crystals from Cairngorm ; St. Andrew and the thistle, ex- quisitely wrought on the blades of polished steel. These were exceptions; for, as I have said, the corps in general had a theatrical appearance; nor can I say they bore their standards, or unsheathed their claymores, with a grace quite sufiScient to excite my imagination. Two boys, of eight or ten years old, who carried the tassels of the central banner, in complete Highland costume, pleased me more than all the others; for children receive gracefulness from nature, and learn awkwardness of men. But though there were many accompaniments to render the scene common-place and vulgar, yet it was not without plea- surable excitement, slightly tinged with romance, that I fol- lowed them along the steep banks of Hoboken, and caught glimpses of them between the tangled foliage of the trees, or the sinuosities of rocks, almost as rugged as their own moun- tain-passes. Banners and mantles, which might not have borne too close an inspection, looked graceful as they floated so far beneath me; and the sound of the bagpipes struck less LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 19 harshly on my ear, than when the musicians stood at my side. But even softened by distance, I thought the shrill wailing of this instrument appropriate only to Clan Chattan, whose Chief was called Molir ar chat, or the Great Cat. As a phantom of the past, this little pageant interested me extremely. I thought of the hatred of those fierce old clans, whose " blood refused to mix, even if poured into the same vessel." They were in the State, what sects are in the Church — narrow, selfish, and vindictive. The State has dissolved her clans, and the Church is fast following the good example; though there are still sectaries casting their shadows on the sunshine of God's earth, who, if they were to meet on the Devil's Bridge, as did the two old feudal chieftains of Scotland, would, like them, choose death rather than humble prostration for the safe foot-path of an enemy. Clans have forgotten old quarrels, and not only mingled together, but with a hostile nation. National pride and national glory is but a more extended clanship, destined to be merged in universal love for the human race. Then farewell to citadels and navies, tariff's and di2:)lomatists ; for the prosperity of each will be the prosperity of all. In religion, too, the spirit of extended, as well as of narrow clanship, will cease. Not only will Christianity forget its minor subdivisions, but it will itself cease to be siectarian. That only will be a genuine "world's convention," when Chris- tians, with reverent tenderness for the religious sentiment in every form, are willing that Mohammedans or Pagans should unite with them in every good work, without abstaining from ceremonies which to them are sacred. " The Turks," says Lamartine, " always manifest respect foi what other men venerate and adore. Whenever a Mussulman sees the image of God in the opinion of his fellow-creatures, he bows down and he respects; persuaded that the intention sanc- tifies the form." This sentiment of reverence, so universal among Moham- medans, and so divine in its character, might well lead Pier- point, when standing in the burying-ground of Constantinople, to ask, " If all that host, Whose turbaned marbles o'er them nod, Were doomed, when giving up the ghost, To die as those who have no God ? 20 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. No, no, my God ! They worshipped Thee ; Then let not doubts my spirits darken. That Thou, who always hearest me, To these, thy children too, didst hearken." The world, regenerated and made free, will at last bid a glad" farewell to clans and sects'? "Would that their graves were dug and their requiems sung; and nothing but their standards and costumes left, as curious historical records of the benighted past. LETTER VI. THE JEWS — BLACK JEWS — OLD CLOTHES — READING BY LAMP- LIGHT IN THE DAY TIME. September 23, 1841. I LATELY visited the Jewish Synagogue in Crosby Street, ta witness the Festival of the New Year, which was observed for two days, by religious exercises and a general suspension of worldly business. The Jewish year, you are aware, begins in September; and they commemorate it in obedience to the fol- lowing text of Scripture : — " In the first day of the seventh month ye shall have a Sabbath, a memorial of blowing of trum- pets, a holy convocation. Ye shall do no servile work therein." It was the first time I ever entered any place of worship where Christ was not professedly believed in. Strange vicissi- tudes of circumstance, over which I had no control, have brought me into intimate relation with almost every form of Christian faith, and thereby given me the power of looking candidly at religious opinions from almost any point of view. But beyond the j)ale of the great sect of Christianity I had never gone; though far back in my early years, I remember an intense desire to be enough acquainted with some intelligent and sincere Mohammedan, to enable me to look at the Koran through his spectacles. The women were seated separately, in the upper part of the house. One of the masters of Israel came, and somewhat gruffly ordered me, and the young lady who accompanied me, to retire from the front seats of the synagogue. It was un- courteous; for we were very respectful and still, and not in the LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 21 least disposed to intrude upon the daughters of Jacob. How- ever, my sense of Justice was rather gratified at being treated contemptuously as a Gentile and "a Nazarene;" for I remem- bered the contumely with which they had been treated through- out Christendom, and I imagined how they must feel, on entering a place of Christian worship, to hear us sing, " With hearts as hard as stubborn Jews, That unbelieving race." The effect produced on my mind, by witnessing the cere- monies of the Jewish Synagogue, was strange and bewildering; spectral and flitting; with a sort of vanishing resemblance to Teality ; the magic lantern of the past. "Veneration and ideality, you know, would have made me wholly a poet, had not the inconvenient size of conscientious- ness forced me into reforms ; between the two, I look upon the future with active hope, and upon the past with loving reve- rence. My mind was, therefore, not only unfettered by narrow prejudice, but solemnly impressed with recollections of those ancient times when the Divine Voice was heard amid the thun- ders of Sinai, and the Holy Presence shook the mercy-seat between the cherubim. I had, moreover, ever cherished a tenderness for *' Israel's wandering race, that go Unblest through every land ; Whose blood hath stained the polar snow And quenched the desert sand : Judea's homeless hearts, that turn From all earth's shrine to thee, With their lone faith for ages borne In sleepless memory. " Thus prepared, the scene would have strongly excited my imagination and my feelings, had there not been a hetero- geneous jumbling of the present with the past. There was the ark containing the Sacred Law, written on scrolls of vellum, and rolled, as in the time of Moses; but between the ark and the congregation, instead of the " brazen laver," wherein those who entered into the tabernacle were commanded to wash, was a common bowl and ewer of English delf, ugly enough for the chamber of a country tavern. All the male members of the congregation, even the little boys, while they were within the synagogue, wore fringed silk mantles, bordered with blue stripes; for Moses was commanded to ''Speak unto the chil- 22 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. dren of Israel, and bid tliem tliat they make them fringes in the borders of their garments, throughout their generations, and that they put upon the fringe of their borders a ribbon of blue;" — but then these mantles were worn over modern broad- cloth coats, and fashionable pantaloons with straps. The priest, indeed, approached more nearly to the gracefulness of oriental costume; for he wore a full black silk robe, like those worn by the Episcopal clergy; but the large white silk shawl which shaded his forehead, and fell over his shoulders, was drawn over a common black hat ! Ever and anon, probably in parts of the ceremony deemed peculiarly sacred, he drew the shawl entirely over his face, as he stooped forward and laid his forehead on the book before him. I suppose this was done because Moses^ till he had done speaking to the congregation, put a veil upon, his fice. But through the whole, priest and people kept on their hats. My spirit was vexed with this incongruity. I had turned away from the turmoil of the present, to gaze quietly for a while on the grandeur of the past; and the representa- tives of the past walked before me, not in the graceful oriental turban, but the useful European hat! It broke the illusion completely. The ceremonies altogether impressed me with less solemnity than those of the Catholic Church; and gave me the idea of far less faith and earnestness in those engaged therein. However, some allowance must be made for this: first, because the com- mon bond of faith in Christ was wanting between us; and secondly, because all the services were performed in Hebrew, of which I understood not one syllable. To see mouths open to chant forth a series of unintelligible sounds, has the same kind of fantastic unreality about it that there is in witnessing a multitude dancing when you hear no music. But after making all these allowances, I could not escape the conclusion that the ceremonies were shuffled through in a cold, mechanical style. The priest often took up his watch, which lay before him; and assuredly this chanting of prayers "by Shewsbury clock" is not favourable to solemnity. The chanting was unmusical, consisting of monotonous ups and downs of the voice, which, when the whole congregation joined in it, sounded like the continuous roar of the sea. The trumpet, which was blown by a rabbi, with a shawl drawn over his hat and face, was of the ancient shape, some- what resembling a cow's horn. It did not send forth a spirit- LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 23 stirring peal ; but the sound groaned and struggled through it — not at all reminding one of the days when *' There rose the choral hymn of praise, And ti-ump and timbrel answered keen, And Zion's daughters poured their lays, With priest and warrior's voice between." I observed, in the English translation on one side of an open prayer-book, these words : '' When the trumpet shall blow on the holy mountain, let all the earth hear! Let them which are scattered in Assyria, and perishing in Egypt, gather themselves together in the Holy City." I looked around upon the con- gregation, and I felt that Judea no longer awoke at the sound of the trumpet ! The ark, on a raised platform, was merely a kind of semi- circular closet, with revolving doors. It was surmounted by a tablet, bearing a Hebrew inscription in gilded letters. The doors were closed and opened at different times, with much ceremony; sometimes a man stood silently before them, with a shawl drawn over his hat and face. When opened, they re- vealed festoons of white silk damask, suspended over the sacred rolls of the Pentateuch; each roll enveloped in figured satin, and surmounted by ornaments with silver bells. According to the words of Moses, " Thou shalt put into the ark the testi- mony which I shall give thee." Two of these rolls were brought out, opened by the priest, turned round toward all the congregation, and after portions of them had been chanted for nearly two hours, were again wrapped in satin, and carried slowly back to the ark, in procession, the people chanting the Psalms of David, and the little bells tinkling as they moved. While they were chanting an earnest prayer for the coming of the Promised One, who was to restore the scattered tribes, I turned over the leaves, and by a singular coincidence my eye rested on these words: "Abraham said, see ye not the splendid light now shining on Mount Moriah'? And they answered, nothing hut caverns do we see." I thought of Jesus, and the whole pageant became more spectral than ever; so strangely vague and shadowy, that I felt as if under the influence of magic. The significant sentence reminded me of a German friend, who shared his sleeping apartment with another gentleman, and both were in the habit of walking very early in the morn- ing. One night, his companion rose much earlier than he 24 LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. intended, and perceiving his mistake, placed a lighted lamp in the chimney corner, that its glare might not disturb the sleeper, leaned his back against the fire-place, and began to read. Some time after, the German arose, left him reading, and walked forth into the morning twilight. When he returned, the sun was shining high up in the heavens; but his companion, uncon- scious of the change, was still reading by lamp-light in the chimney corner. And this the Jews are now doing, as well as a very large proportion of Christians. Ten days from the Feast of Trumpets comes the Feast of the Atonement. Five days after, the Feast of Tabernacles is observed for seven days. Booths of evergreen are erected in the synagogue, according to the injunction, " Ye shall take the boughs of goodly trees, branches of palm trees, and the boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook; and ye shall rejoice before the Lord your God seven days." Last week, a new synagogue was consecrated in Attorney Street, making, I believe, five Jewish synagogues in this city, comprising in all about ten thousand of this ancient people. The congregation of the new synagogue are German emigrants, driven from Bavaria, the Duchy of Baden, &c., by oppressive laws. One of these laws forbade the Jews to marry ; and among the emigrants were many betrothed couples, who married as soon as they landed on our shores, trusting their future sup- port to the God of Jacob. If not as " rich as Jews," they are now most of them doing well in the world; and one of the first proofs they gave of prosperity was the erection of a place of worship. The oldest congregation of Jews in New York were called Shewith Israel. The Dutch governors would not allow them to build a place of worship; but after the English conquered the colony, they erected a small wooden synagogue, in Mill Street, near which a creek ran up from the East River, where the Jewish women performed their ablutions. In the course of improve- ment this was sold; and they erected the handsome stone build- ing in Crosby Street, which I visited. It is not particularly striking or magnificent, either in its exterior or interior; nor would it be in good keeping for a peoi:)le gone into captivity to have garments like those of Aaron, "for glory and for beauty;" or an " ark overlaid with pure gold within and without, and a crown of gold to be round about. There is something deeply impressive in this remnant of a LETTERS FROM NEW YORK. 25 scattered people coming down to us in continuous links through the long vista of recorded time ; preserving themselves carefully unmixed by intermarriage with people of other nations and other faith, and keeping up the ceremonial forms of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, through all the manifold changes of revolving generations. Moreover, our religions are connected, though separated; they are shadow and substance, type and fufilment. To the Jews only, with all their blindness and waywardness, was given the idea of one God, spiritual and invisible; and, among them only could such a one as Jesus have appeared. To us they have been the medium of glorious truths ; and if the murky shadow of their old dispensation rests too heavily on the m.ild beauty of the new, it is because the present can never quite unmoor itself from the past; and well for the world's safety that it is so. Quakers were mixed with the congregation of the Jews; thus oddly brought together, were representatives of the ex- treme of conservatism, and the extreme of innovation ! I was disappointed to see so large a proportion of this peculiar people fair-skinned and blue-eyed. As no one who marries a Gentile is allowed to remain in their synagogue, one would naturally expect to see a decided predominance of the dark eyes, jetty locks, and olive complexions of Palestine. But the Jews furnish incontrovertible evidence that colour is the eflfect of