Glimpses of New York city

Front matter

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Preface

" Without all fear, without presumption, he Who wrote this work would speak concerning it A few brief words, and facing his friend the world, Revising, not reversing, what hath been."

Festus.

Having transmitted the last line of MS. to the compositor, I was quietly and contentedlyenjoying myself in my room, enveloped in cigar smoke, and the consolation that for once, " a poor man's labor was done," when a messenger aroused me from the delicious reverie with the intelligence from Mr. * * * * that " there was no Preface." I very composedly and politely, as well as digniftedly and independently replied that that was no news, and I did not intend to have any. But a few moments elapsed — I had hardly assumed my original position before the return of the minister of legation informed me that Mr. * * * * g^id "a book was not a book without a prefoce." ' ,

This hypothesis I did not wish to discuss (particularly then), especially metaphysically, so I said, tell Mr. * * * * jf he wanted one more than I did, to write it himself That's the way to get rid of small matters, thinks I to myself, letting off a volley of smoke that would have suffocated a Dutch Burgomaster, and squaring myself for a snooze.

Again my tormentor returned, and reported that Mr. * * * * said he " was not an Author, but a Publisher, and could or would not," I did not understand which ; either was enough to upset my composure. What was to be done ? muttered I. Two horns to the dilemma presented themselves — to submit to the bore of writing a preface or have my labors knocked into pi. Either was bad enough ; of the two I chose the former. Here another horn '■'■ stuck out a feety What was a preface ? This, however, was soon solved; turning to " Webster," I found that a preface was " a preface.'''' Tell Mr. * * * *^ gaid I, rather impetuously, that I " give in," and that he shall have one by to-morrow morning.

Hang that chap, I am clear of him at last, and I can now finish my nap. But no, in a twinkling the confounded fellow returned with, Mr. * * * * gays be must have it immediately— the hands are waiting." Clear out, you imp, stormed I, and he did, with the hoot-jack after him. Well, thought I, "give a man an inch and lie will take an ell," and I commenced humming my favorite air, " A Poor Man's Labor is Never Done." So here goes.

According, then, to custom I must give a preface to my Glimpses, and will, if to satisfy only Mr. * * * *, who is a very worthy man.

During my summer rambling this season, I was much alone, and had ample time for reflecting upon what I had been showing and telling my friend while in New- York, and for b PREFACE.

want of something better to do, gathered up the scintillations which fell from my brain into a trencher (book), and now distribute them to those who will "come and buy."

To speak fully of New England and her people, would require a book as large as Scott's Napoleon ; but I will sum it up in a very few words — dollars and cents. While tlie work of printing my book was progressing, I took occasion to show the proof sheets of the Chapter upon Hotels to those whom I had complimented. One smiled, a second grinned, a third chuckled, a fourth grunted, a fifth said, "a penny for all your compliments," a sixth said, " we'll help you sell your book — may take a copy," a seventh asked me to take a glass of wine {knowing I was a '■'teetotaler'"), an eighth said, "I'm too busy now, drop in again.'' One of the proprietors of one of the lesser hotels presented me with a pen with which I might write another notice (doubtless needing one), and for fear it would wear out, it was gold, and cost at least $3,50. May he live a thousand years, and then get a release of his life ! But to my preface.

I intended to have the work embellished with several engravings, to wit : Mr. Collins, Mr. Bennett, Coleman &, Stetson, Forrest, and a few others. Mr. Collins said he never permitted such liberties; Mr. Bennett said if he commenced sitting for his picture he would have to keep it up, and too much time would be taken away from his business. Mr. Stetson told the engraver he would not sit for his daguerreotype for $500,000 — that being more money than I had on hand, I asked Mr. * * * * if lie would not wait a few hours till I could raise tlie amount, which I might have done had he consented to wait; but, alas, who ever stopped a printer? As for Mr. Coleman, I could not think of separating Castor & Pollux, therefore did not ask. Mr. Forrest polite'y declined the "soft impeachment." Mr. Sanders I could not keep still long enough to get a picture, and Mr. Few Othcs I gave up in despair, consequently the world (if my book does not go upon its merits to the four corners of the earth, I'll put a copy into my pocket and take it there myself) has lost, for the present, a sight of these worthies in a book.

Should the work "take," doubtless these gentlemen may ask admission, and send their phizes "cut and dried" for the second edition, if so tlwy shall be gratified, as no picture of New- York is complete withoi;t them.

As for Colonel Tliompson, wliose " picture " does appear, I asked no favors. I had one of him which he gave me years ago, and used it nolens volens. What he will say when he sees his reflection inside the leaves of a book I know not, and what is more, I care less. "The Chesterfield of King-street " is a self-made man, and deserves a compliment, and this is the best I can do for him— although he may have the worst of the bargain.

In writing and publisliing this work. I have pleased one man — myself— if no one else. This is as much as I could reasonably expect; and now I launch it upon the billowy ocean of public opinion, with Truth for a figure-head, Justice for ballast, and my blessing for a prosperous voyage.

Note.— The reader will observe that in the chapter upon hotels, I have not mentioned the "Irvinjj House," and also m the chapter on the press, " The Times," and " Tribune," have not been noticed. The reason is, what I said about those neglected gems, that the printer would not print it for fear the caustic contaLued therein would eat out the page on which it was printed, and consequently spoil the book.

Inadvertency (absence) caused the neglect of that worthy paper tho "Herald of the Union," which is ably conducted, and I beg furgiveness for not ranking it in its appropriate place.

CHAP. XX.— Taylor's Saloon

CHAP. XXL— The Bowery

CHAP. XXL. — Avenuedles .

PAOB 9

}S CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAP. XXIII.— P.UIKS, ETC. .... . 178

CHAP. XXV.— Station Hougss . . . ... 195

CHAP. XXVI.— Artists— Native axd Foreign . . .202

CHAP. XXVIII.— Conclusion .... 214

GLIMPSES AT NEW-YORK.

Chapter I

" As the eyes of the South are turned anxiously upon the North, it may not prove uninteresting to your neighbors,, when you return, to give them an idea of what you saw and heard while in New-York. Being a member of the Legislature, they will expect it, and if you fail to do so, w^ould set it down that you have not been here at all, or cannot^ which is infinitely worse. How then can you tell any thing about these northern people without first seeing them ? So I propose to act as your cicerone while you remain in the city, if agreeable."

" Certainly, I am glad to meet with one who is ' posted up,' and has the leisure to accompany me through the city, as I am an entire stranger," returned my friend, Colonel Hammond, of South Carolina.

" Well, sir, having more time than money ^ will take great pleasure in conducting you to the various places of interest which are to be seen hereabouts, and I fancy that I know something of the city." 1*

" Thank you, thank you."

"Well, go to your room, and then get a clean receipt from a Professor of the Tonsorial Institute, and I am at your service."

" I now place myself in your hands ; do with me as you think proper," said my friend, on returning.

" You are back sooner than I expected."

" A short horse is soon curried, you know, and I am not much addicted to di^essJ'

" In order that you may get the true meridian, we will stand about the steps of the Astor, here, and take a glimpse at what presents itself for awhile.

" New- York City is the focus, around which the balance of the cities of the United States radiate, and all contribute a due proportion to its greatness and its wealth.

" A stranger, like yourself, during his first visit here, has many things to see and hear, most of which he does not really understand, but once behind the curtains, all the mystery vanishes like fog before a morning sun. My entrance into New- York reminded me of the joyous schoolboy days which I spent in the land of my fathers, when all was peace and joy, when the future looked like a gilded landscape before me ; but, alas ! they are gone, and with them that beautiful picture ; and oh ! what a rough and uncouth one is in its stead. Could we but see, in our youthful days, the path we have to tread in after life, very few would have the nerve to pursue it. I would give ten years of the remainder

of my life, to ex , but what's the use ? Let's talk about

something else. At early dawn I was roused by the well knoAvn sound of ' boys to school,' and after a slowly eaten breakfast, started on my daily journey. When fairly out of the yard, the fog was so thick that I could not see a hundred yards before me, not even to the turn in the road, and I thought when I got a few rods farther, that I should be completely enveloped in it, so that I could not see ten feet from me ; but not so ; when I had gotten to the point where I supposed the thickest was, lo ! it had vanished — was just the same distance ahead ; and thus was chasing the fog until the sun dispersed it.

" So it is with our vision in youth — every thing is encircled with the fog of ignorance, but increasing years and the sunlight of knowledge disperses the mist, and all is made clear and bright. Just so with a stranger in New-York ; he is all the time chasing the fog, and when he supposes or imagines he has found the thick places, is sure to be disappointed. This city is one grand kaleidoscope in perpetual motion, with the views passing so swiftly by that one is hardly seen before another is presented. At every turn a different and an entirely new scene appears, and it is as impossible to describe any particular one as it would be to count the stars.

"Here the people worship that Trinity known as the golden eagle, the silver dollar, and the copper cent, with an idolatry equalled only by a fiiithful follower of Mahomet, and the features of this Triune Deity can be seen in their every act. To give you an idea of the feeling which pervades the very soul of this community, in contradistinction to that which exists South, I will relate two anecdotes.

" Last summer, by way of variety, I attended, a campmeeting (v/hich, by the by, is a something new in this country, but this people are celebrated for getting up new things) out about thirty miles from the city, near White Plains. Here I found that there were rival hotels, and that no one, except a very few, had their own lunch ; all depended upon hoarding. One of the proprietors told me he had made, at the meeting last year, several hundred dollars — ^hoped to do better this. At a similar meeting South, I have not unfrequently known every family prepare at least quadruple more than was necessary for its own consumption for strangers ; and not only the lady and gentleman, but the sons, if they had any, going round the camp ground begging their acquaintances and friends, as well as all the strangers, to come and partake.

" Another — My landlady, on certain occasions, is in the habit of giving a sort of tea-party to a few other friends. She generally prepares herself with one of the handsomest steeple cakes she can find among the bakers. When the company has been feasted upon her other delicacies, she accompanies the servant (who bears the aforesaid steeple cake upon a large waiter, and understands the part he is to play) in double quick time around the circle, saying — 'Have a piece of cake ? have a piece cake ? have piece cake, piece cake ? — there, take it out, John, nobody wants any.' Next morning the cake is taken back, and two or three shillings paid for its use.

" There is nothing at all censurable in the first instance, or any thing to boast of in the second, but it shows the tendency of the mind. Honest industry is commendable in any people, while profligacy and extravagance are equally reprehensible. But to go on —

" The city of New-York may be very justly compared to a human being — the City Hall being the heart, the Tombs the stomach, the Five Points the bowels, the Parks the lungs, Broadway the nose, the Piers the feet (as from these the travelling commences), Wall-street the pocket, the hotels the mouth, the theatres the eyes, the Bowery the aorta, the Avenues the veins, and Nassau and Ann streets the brains. To carry this simile a little farther, we may call New-York the head of the United States — if not the entire head, it's certainly the largest developed organ in the phrenological chart 5 then Broadway is assuredly the most prominent feature, physiognomonically speaking ; therefore we will, in due deference to this importance, pay it our respects first.

" So come along over to the corner of Ann-street, as there we can get a better view than from any other point. By spending a quarter we can go up and take a stand in the verandah of Barnum's Museum, where we can see from the BoAvling Green to Union Park, as well as up Chatham-street, and down Ann and Yesey-streets.

" See what an amount of moving matter. The white tops of the omnibuses resemble the waves of the ocean — and it looks as if we might walk from one end of Broadway to the other upon them, without the slightest difficulty. You would imagine that hardly another could be got into the street, yet it is like dropping one more drop of water into a river. The throng upon the sidewalks — see what a continual press, and one would suppose that it must cease after a while ; not so — the only difference is that, now and then, it increases very perceivably, but never lessens. Like a constant river, the banks are not unfrequently overflown, but never ceases to run with a strong current. There is always something new to be seen in Broadway ; something is sure to turn up that has never occurred before. A horse will fall down and break his neck by way of variety if nothing else. Stand here when 3^ou will, and you are sure to witness a new and novel sight.

" It has become quite difficult to cross this street, and whenever attempted it is at the peril of your life or limbs. A few days ago I w^as occupied in the third story of Brady's establishment on the corner store of Fulton and Broadway, and I noticed two young ladies who wished to cross over to the ' Dollar Side ' (the west side is known as the ' Dollar ' and the east as the ' Shilling Side,' from the fact, I suppose, that all the fancy stores are upon that side) of Broadway.

They made repeated attempts, but failed ; and as for ' a Jehu ' making any halt for you, unless given to understand that you Avant to ride, it is a thing unknown in the history of a BroadAvay Omnibus driver. They seemed timid — I presume were strangers — and therefore did not like to venture. After a while one made an effectual trial, but the other met with her usual disappointment ; — I became interested ; now the case was worse than before — they were separated ; this was too bad. They remained in this predicament for nearly an hour, when ' a jam ' occurred between a 'bus and a dray, w^hich stopped the current, and the girls got together.

'• Listen to the newsboys — a steamer has arrived — ' extra 'Eral ; arrival of the Pacific !' cries one. Another sings — ' extra Sun,' <fec. These little fellows, many of them, are as sharp as steel traps, and often put an old paper off for the latest — however, they are of great service to the community, for in twenty minutes some of these fellows will be to the extreme limits of the city. The competition at one time raged SQ high, that the news of a steamer w^as frequently not only distributed all over the city, but half way to Albany before the vessel which brought it was in her berth. Since the telegraph has come into play, extras are not sent to the neighboring towns as formerly ; and now the news is often in New Orleans before the passengers are landed. Such is the wonderful improvement of our age.

" This is the hour for the fashionables to show themselves upon the street ; it i^ a regular business to promenade Broadway at this time of the day, and sometimes in the afternoon or evening. There are some rare looking specimens of humanity, eh ? As we shall meet these butterflies again soon, vfe will let them pass for the present.

" That is a ' Bulletin wagon,' which is driven all over the city, as an advertisement for a theatre. You see the

NEW-YUKK CITY. 15

play bills upon it — a regular Barnumism. There are dozens of them in successful operation. A quack medicine vender has one -which can be seen almost any -where 3"ou go.

" Suppose -we go up to the top of this house and look at the neighboring to-wns. We -will pass through the collection of two millions of curiosities, as it -won't pay, -without halting. There no-w, -\Te can survey the surrounding countr}^ That is Hoboken — a little lo-wer do-wn you see Harsimus ; close by its side is Jersey City (the question of annexation is being canvassed in these to-wns) ; just in rear is Bergen ; farther down you see Staten Island. Several fine residences over there across the bay — that is South Brooklyn, then Brooklyn proper ; a little higher up is William sburgh, then there is Astoria, and various other smaller villages, whose names I have forgotten — if I ever knew.

" How white the tops of the houses look ! This is the washerwomen's yard for drying clothes, there being no room on the ground — a sort of convenience of necessity. The smoke or atmosphere is too thick to see the waterworks or reservoir. We may go up there, if we have the time, before you leave. This is quite a view — see the steamboats, though there are but few in motion ; at half-past two to four p. m., you might see twenty-five or thirty moving out in different directions. Let us go down now and pay Stewart's a visit.

" Stewart's is just in front of the Irving House, and is the only fancy store upon the east side of Broadway, at all, to my knowledge. Here we are — what a magnificent building— occupies just the whole block, though rather a short one. The front and one side are solid marble, and the rear too for aught I know ; six stories above and one below ground ; a crowd of carriages during shopping hours always in front ; nothing is the ' exact ton ' unless it comes from Stewart's, these days ;■ — what a stupendous concern — about two hundred clerks — sales amount to from seven to ten thousand daily. Here you can get any thing in the drygoods line. It is a wonder he don't keep hats and cigars ; it is said he monopolizes the carpet and glove manufactories of Paris and Brussels. As to the carpets, I don't believe the statement, but as to gloves, you cannot get Alexander's gloves unless you get them here. This is the largest establishment in the United States, and in all probability the largest in the world. He will make money for a while — so long as the rage is in his favor, and he keeps down competition ; he may fly high in the morning, but will light in the tub at night. So long as the snobs will pay enormous profits because it is the ' go,' he will keep up, but when they cease to be taxed as they are now, he will fail largely. You can get a shawl here priced $2,000, and every thing else in proportion. This man is not a benefactor, by any means, as he only gives rise to extravagance ; and I hope he will realize the fact that " the fashion of this world passeth away." There are no persons living overhead, as in many other houses, but all is occupied as a store, and filled from the cellar to the attic.

'' We had better go towards the Astor ; it is approaching dinner hour, and we have to take the first table, as we can then go in the afternoon over to Greenwood Cemetery. We might have gone farther up Broadway, but as our rambles over town will frequently carry us through the principal portions of it, we will therefore defer our walk for another occasion. What a rush and crowd is always here — look at the baggage — that pile is going out, this just arrived ; it is so nearly all the time. I never could rest well in these emphatically large and fashionable hotels — too much noise and confusion — there is very little real comfort got in the best. There goes ' the gong ' — what a hideous noise it makes ! Did you never notice the peculiar twang every thing has about a hotel ? It is very unpleasant to me — but to the table

Chapter II. Greenwood Cemetery

" Dinner over, and after regaling our olfactories with the delicious fumes of a " bright Havana," such as cannot be extracted from any thing else, we will pay a visit to Greenwood Cemetery. This constitutes one of the leading features of New-York city ; it is on Long Island, and I shall take great pleasure in carrying you through its sacred walks.

" We will take this hack and ride, as it is several miles. Hop in ; how smoothly we move over the Russ pavement towards Fulton Ferry. An hour's drive brings us to the premises of the dead — the home where all the living must, sooner or later, be tenanted. As we approach this quiet^ peaceful, and hallowed spot, an awful solemnity creeps insensibly over the visitor, which can alone be produced by a proximity to the silent tomb. A white spear of marble can now occasionally be seen through the tops of the cedars, which shade and protect these sacred mementoes of affection, indicating our nearness to the cemetery where the dead repose in blissful quietude, from the noisy and perplexing confusion which surround the living."

A visit to the graveyard — (where did that cold, revolting^ forbidding, and chilling name come from ? — not from the elegant and refined nations of modern Europe, and certainly it never came from the sepulchre of the Christian, where "we

" See truth, love and mercy in triumph descending, And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ; On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending, And beauty immortal awakes from the Tomb ;"

the Grecians called their cemeteries by the touching, endearing, and beautiful term of Gardens of the Reposing,) always creates, upon the rational man, a sublimity of feeling, (like the one produced by confessing an error,) which makes him not only a better but a wiser being.

We are now within the gates ; see how tastefully the walks are arranged — how cleanly every thing looks — one is almost persuaded to lie down and die, in order to be buried in this lovely place.

That is the vault where the bodies are kept till the final resting-place is made read}^ I would not be astonished if there were a dozen in there now " waiting their turn."

Is this not a sweet place ? How still and quiet. This monument here was erected to an only daughter, and cost ^30,000. She was to have been married in a few days ; had been to a ball, and as she was getting out of the carriage upon her return home, the horses took fright ; she fell between the wheels and was killed instantly. The disconsolate parents spent her marriage portion for this, as a monument to her memory. It is also said that her room remains precisely as she left it — every piece remains exactly where it w^as placed by her own hands. Upon every return of the fatal night, the parents put the house in full mourning, as if she had just died.

To attempt a minute description of all the tomb-stones and inscriptions to be seen here, would require more time than is allowed a flying visitor ; and even if we were permitted to remain here weeks I could not do half justice to all. You can very readily perceive, that all that art or expense can do has been already done to render these (or many of them) mementoes to the departed not only beautiful and exquisite, but magnificent and imposing.

To wander and meditate a few brief hours amid the calm scenery and hallowing associations of Greenwood Cemetery, begets a gladness akin to inspiration, which, like the returning of spring, always engenders and teaches us to feel that the icy influences of winter had shed themselves from our hearts, and warmer and brighter sentiments were budding and blossoming in our souls. The idea of these calm, serene, and lovely cities of the dead, has become as familiar as household words, and the whole sense of the community revolts at the bare thought of burying its dead under the very footsteps and thresholds of the living, and wonders how humanity should ever have indulged in a custom so startling and barbarous ! It was that eminently gifted author, Lester, who said :

" Among the great and benign features of this advancing age, teeming with wondrous novelties, strange plans and grand ideas, we should be untrue to the spirit of these high pulsations, these progressive throes and onward movements, if, while we prepare, improve, and enlarge the places, the mechanism, the utilities and the adornments of life, we forget to enshrine the material envelopes of our spirits when laid aside, in sanctuaries blessed, hallowed and lovely, whose very atmosphere shall breathe of hope and peace and sadness, and where holiness, like a spell, shall consecrate the remembrances that cluster round and speak from the dead — dedicated places, where the visitant unquiet heart may beat more calmly — the imagination be chastened, the soul purified, and aspirations for a high celestial life be stirred into activity. It is one of the evidences of progressing civilization, that the dead may welcome the living to their homes with the smiles of nature and her love tones, and her verdant carpet resting softly on the placid heart, and her rosy flowers of perfumed breath and stainless hue loading the air with fragrance — with her graceful, sympathizing willows — her dark, sad cypress — her mourning pines, — investing with a solemn beauty the sanctuaries hitherto so drear and neglected.

" It is, therefore, with delight we hail the advent of Greenwood Cemetery, uniting beauty, convenience, and advantage, to benefit the living and to guard the dead.

" How often will these suggestive abodes win hither the living to bathe their souls in holy meditation ! How often will they come to bring forth garlands and green chaplets to hang over the white urns which hold the precious dust of those they love ! Yea, they may come and return, but they will not go away from breathing this sanctified air, without some sweet thought — it may be the first — to be woven into the religious garniture of their existence.