King's
troops; and, lastly, Griffin's Wharf, where, under the impulse of the
stern concentrated will of the New England character, the "Sons of
Liberty" boarded the English ships, and slowly and deliberately threw the
tea which they contained into the water of the harbour.
I visited the Bunker's Hill monument, and was content to take on trust the
statement of the beauty of the view from the summit, as the monument,
which is 221 feet in height, is ascended by a very steep staircase.
Neither did I deny the statement made by the patriotic Americans who were
with me, that the British forces were defeated in that place, not feeling
at all sure that the national pride of our historians had not led them to
tell a tale more flattering than true; for
"Some say that we won,
And some say that they won,
And some say that none won at a', man."
We visited the naval yard at Charlestown, and the Ohio, an old seventy-
four, now used as a receiving-ship. There was a very manifest difference
between the two sides of the main-deck of this vessel; one was
scrupulously clean, the other by no means so; and, on inquiring the
reason, I was told that the clean side was reserved for strangers!
Although this yard scarcely deserves the name of an arsenal, being the
smallest of all which America possesses, the numerous guns and the piles
of cannon-balls show that she is not unprepared for aggressive or
defensive war.
The Merchants' Exchange, where every change in the weather at New Orleans
is known in a few minutes; the Post-Office, with its innumerable letter-
boxes and endless bustle; the Tremont Hall, one of the finest music-halls
in the world; the water-works, the Athenaeum, and the libraries, are all
worthy of a visit.
There is a museum, which we visited in the evening, but it is not
creditable to the taste of the inhabitants of this fine city. There are
multitudes of casts and fossils, and stuffed beasts and birds, and
monsters, and a steam-engine modelled in glass, which works beautifully;
but all these things are to hide the real character of this institution,
and appeared to be passed unnoticed by a large number of respectable-
looking people who were thronging into a theatre at the back - a very
gloomy-looking edifice, with high pews. A placard announced that Dickens'
'Hard Times,' which it appears from this has been dramatised, was about
to be acted. The plays are said to be highly moral, but in the melodrama
religion and buffoonery are often intermingled; and I confess that I did
not approve of this mode of solacing the consciences of those who object
to ordinary theatricals, for the principle involved remains the same.
The National Theatre is considered so admirably adapted for seeing,
hearing, and accommodation, that it is frequently visited by European
architects. An American friend took me to see it in the evening, when none
are admitted but those who are going to remain for the performance. This
being the rule, the doorkeeper politely opposed our entrance; but on my
companion stating that I was a stranger, he instantly admitted us, and
pointed out the best position for seeing the edifice. The theatre, which
has four tiers of boxes, was handsome in the extreme, and brilliantly
lighted; but I thought it calculated to produce the same effect of
dizziness and headache, as those who frequent our House of Peers
experience from the glare and redundant decoration.
This was one among the many instances where the name of stranger produced
a magic effect. It appeared as if doors which would not open to anything
else, yielded at once to a request urged in that sacred name. This was the
case at the Mount Auburn Cemetery, where the gatekeeper permitted us as
strangers to drive round in a carriage, which is contrary to rule, and on
no occasion would those who so courteously obliged us accept of any
gratuity.
There is some rivalry on the part of the people of Boston and New York
with regard to the beauty of their cemeteries. Many travellers have
pronounced the cemetery of Mount Auburn to be the loveliest in the world;
but both it and that of Greenwood are so beautiful, that it is needless to
"hint a fault or hesitate a dislike" with regard to either. Mount Auburn
has verdant slopes, and deep wild dells, and lakes shaded by forest-trees
of great size and beauty; and so silent is it, far removed from the din of
cities, that it seems as if a single footstep would disturb the sleep of
the dead. Here the neglectfulness and dreariness of the outer aspect of
the grave are completely done away with, and the dead lie peacefully under
ground carpeted with flowers, and shaded by trees. The simplicity of the
monuments is very beautiful; that to Spurzheim has merely his name upon
the tablet. Fulton, Channing, and other eminent men are buried here.
New York is celebrated for frequent and mysterious conflagrations; so are
all the American cities in a less degree. This is very surprising to
English people, many of whom scarcely know a fire-engine by sight. Boston,
though its substantial erections of brick and stone present great
obstacles to the progress of the devouring element, frequently displays
these unwished-for illuminations, and has some very well organized fire
companies. These companies, which are voluntary associations, are one of
the important features of the States. The Quakers had the credit of
originating them. Being men of peace, they could not bear arms in defence
of their country, and exchanged militia service for the task of
extinguishing all the fires caused by the wilfulness or carelessness of
their fellow-citizens.
