Volume Ii Part 53 (1/2)
PHILADELPHIA, _Same Night._
We came on here through a snowstorm all the way, but up to time. f.a.n.n.y Kemble (who begins to read shortly) is coming to ”Marigold” and ”Trial”
to-morrow night. I have written her a note, telling her that if it will at all a.s.sist _her_ movements to know _mine_, my list is at her service. Probably I shall see her to-morrow. Tell Mamie (to whom I will write next), with my love, that I found her letter of the 10th of this month awaiting me here. The _Siberia_ that brought it is a new Cunarder, and made an unusually slow pa.s.sage out. Probably because it would be dangerous to work new machinery too fast on the Atlantic.
_Thursday, 30th._
My cold still sticks to me. The heat of the railway cars and their unventilated condition invariably brings it back when I think it going.
This morning my head is as stuffed and heavy as ever! A superb sledge and four horses have been offered me for a ride, but I am afraid to take it, lest I should make the ”true American catarrh” worse, and should get hoa.r.s.e. So I am going to give Osgood another ”breather” on foot instead.
The communication with New York is not interrupted, so we consider the zealous Dolby all right. You may imagine what his work is, when you hear that he goes three times to every place we visit. Firstly, to look at the hall, arrange the numberings, and make five hundred acquaintances, whom he immediately calls by their christian-names; secondly, to sell the tickets--a very nice business, requiring great tact and temper; thirdly, with me. He will probably turn up at Was.h.i.+ngton next Sunday, but only for a little while; for as soon as I am on the platform on Monday night, he will start away again, probably to be seen no more until we pa.s.s through New York in the middle of February.
[Sidenote: Mr. Samuel Cartwright]
BALTIMORE, _Wednesday, Jan. 29th, 1868._
MY DEAR CARTWRIGHT,
As I promised to report myself to you from this side of the Atlantic, and as I have some leisure this morning, I am going to lighten my conscience by keeping my word.
I am going on at a great pace and with immense success. Next week, at Was.h.i.+ngton, I shall, please G.o.d, have got through half my readings. The remaining half are all arranged, and they will carry me into the third week of April. It is very hard work, but it is brilliantly paid. The changes that I find in the country generally (this place is the least changed of any I have yet seen) exceed my utmost expectations. I had been in New York a couple of days before I began to recognise it at all; and the handsomest part of Boston was a black swamp when I saw it five-and-twenty years ago. Considerable advances, too, have been made socially. Strange to say, the railways and railway arrangements (both exceedingly defective) seem to have stood still while all other things have been moving.
One of the most comical spectacles I have ever seen in my life was ”church,” with a heavy sea on, in the saloon of the Cunard steamer coming out. The officiating minister, an extremely modest young man, was brought in between two big stewards, exactly as if he were coming up to the scratch in a prize-fight. The s.h.i.+p was rolling and pitching so, that the two big stewards had to stop and watch their opportunity of making a dart at the reading-desk with their reverend charge, during which pause he held on, now by one steward and now by the other, with the feeblest expression of countenance and no legs whatever. At length they made a dart at the wrong moment, and one steward was immediately beheld alone in the extreme perspective, while the other and the reverend gentleman _held on by the mast_ in the middle of the saloon--which the latter embraced with both arms, as if it were his wife. All this time the congregation was breaking up into sects and sliding away; every sect (as in nature) pounding the other sect. And when at last the reverend gentleman had been tumbled into his place, the desk (a loose one, put upon the dining-table) deserted from the church bodily, and went over to the purser. The scene was so extraordinarily ridiculous, and was made so much more so by the exemplary gravity of all concerned in it, that I was obliged to leave before the service began.
This is one of the places where Butler carried it with so high a hand in the war, and where the ladies used to spit when they pa.s.sed a Northern soldier. It still wears, I fancy, a look of sullen remembrance. (The ladies are remarkably handsome, with an Eastern look upon them, dress with a strong sense of colour, and make a brilliant audience.) The ghost of slavery haunts the houses; and the old, untidy, incapable, lounging, shambling black serves you as a free man. Free of course he ought to be; but the stupendous absurdity of making him a voter glares out of every roll of his eye, stretch of his mouth, and b.u.mp of his head. I have a strong impression that the race must fade out of the States very fast.
It never can hold its own against a striving, restless, s.h.i.+fty people.
In the penitentiary here, the other day, in a room full of all blacks (too dull to be taught any of the work in hand), was one young brooding fellow, very like a black rhinoceros. He sat glowering at life, as if it were just endurable at dinner time, until four of his fellows began to sing, most unmelodiously, a part song. He then set up a dismal howl, and pounded his face on a form. I took him to have been rendered quite desperate by having learnt anything. I send my kind regard to Mrs.
Cartwright, and sincerely hope that she and you have no new family distresses or anxieties. My standing address is the Westminster Hotel, Irving Place, New York City. And I am always, my dear Cartwright,
Cordially yours.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]
PHILADELPHIA, _Friday, Jan. 31st, 1868._
Since writing to your aunt I have received yours of the 7th, and am truly glad to have the last news of you confirmed by yourself.
From a letter Wilkie has written to me, it seems there can be no doubt that the ”No Thoroughfare” drama is a real, genuine, and great success.
It is drawing immensely, and seems to ”go” with great effect and applause.
”Doctor Marigold” here last night (for the first time) was an immense success, and all Philadelphia is going to rush at once for tickets for the two Philadelphian farewells the week after next. The tickets are to be sold to-morrow, and great excitement is antic.i.p.ated in the streets.
Dolby not being here, a clerk will sell, and will probably wish himself dead before he has done with it.
It appears to me that Chorley[22] writes to you on the legacy question because he wishes you to understand that there is no danger of his changing his mind, and at the bottom I descry an honest desire to pledge himself as strongly as possible. You may receive it in that better spirit, or I am much mistaken. Tell your aunt, with my best love, that I wrote to Chauncey weeks ago, in answer to a letter from him. I am now going out in a sleigh (and four) with unconceivable dignity and grandeur; mentioning which reminds me that I am informed by trusty scouts that ---- intends to waylay me at Was.h.i.+ngton, and may even descend upon me in the train to-morrow.
Best love to Katie, the two Charleys, and all.
[Sidenote: Miss d.i.c.kens.]