Letters on the eastern states

Preface

The first edition of these Letters was published at a distance from the author, and from manuscripts that had not been copied ; these circumstances may partly account for its numerous errors. The prefatatory note attached to that edition, has the original date restored ; which the printers without any attention to its connection, altered to the time of publishing the book, and thus rendered a few statements and allusions contradictory.

The author is indebted to the Editor of the National Gazette for a very courteous notice of the work. He has still further obligations to the Editor of the North American Review for an extended account of it, in which one of the offices of criticism was exercised in the most lenient manner, the full extent of which was not appreciated until he came to this revisal. The objections made by. both these gentlemen — very accomplished judges — are indisputably well founded ; yet they were perhaps nearly inevitable, under the circumstances in which these Letters were written.

The form of the work is not wholly fictitious, though much the largest part was thrown into this shape for convenience. There may be a slight degree of ridicule, in giving the name of an author to a work of this kind ; but particular circumstances would have made it more absurd to withhold it. It ip

VI PREFACE.

neither a statistical work, a Traveller's Guide, or a procluction of fancy. The object was to give just notions of a distinguished section of the United States, and incidentally of the nation at large ; with the hope of conveying information even to Americans, and placing strangers in the right paths for investigation. It was written in a desultory way, without the aid of any books, being the result of long and various reflection, with some opportunities for observation, and under very slight subjection to any sect or party.

In wishing to avoid exaggeration, the author may not have done justice to some of the topics he has treated: they will not be injured by this reserve. He imposed on himself a rule not to speak of individuals, which is observed with very few exceptions. It would have added mucli vivacity to some parts of the work, and afforded him a particular gratification, one from which he was hardly restrained, to have spoken of several remarkable persons in our society : but not being an adept in personal panegyric or satire, he was more anxious not to shock that feeling in regard to bringing before the public private anecdote and character, which, whether it be owing to modesty or prudery, is so prevalent among us.

The intention of remedying the defects that have been pointed out was given up, after finding on consideration, that it would be necessary to remould the work entirely. The author has therefore limited liimself to correcting the numerous verbal errors, and adding a few illustrations either in the body of the page or in notes. With these amendments it is again submitted to the indulgence of the public.

Agriculture 233

Viii CONTENTS.

LETTER X. Page

Manufactures 262

LETTER XL

Remarks on certain points of Administration in different States 267

LETTER XIL On the past, present, and future State of the Indians 279

LETTER XIIL Scenery and Climate 306

LETTER XIV.

Harvard University 334

LETTER XV.

The Town of Boston 354

LETTER XVI.

Genius, Character, and Manners of the Inhahitants of New-England 378

&c.

Letter I. On Certain Funeral Ceremonies

X HE advice you wish me to give, my dear friend, in a certain quarter, would be useless. I have long lost all influence there, if I ever had any. Counsel from me to avoid exposure to the pestilence, would rather induce your kinsman to encounter it, and run the chance of the contingency, to prove me wrong. I believe, however, that your fears are needless, and you may safely calm your solicitude: — Were it otherwise, I could hardly partake of it. I am glad that your own experience and feelings, make you think death such a misfortune for others: for myself, I think it far from being the worst thing that can happen to us, and there are situations in which, though it would not be justifiable to seek it, 'tis not worth the trouble to avoid it. J have felt many moments when 9 it appeared a desirable alternative. — 1 rejoice that you have not found life, to borrow the exasperated expressions of Helen M'Gregor, " the same weary and wasting burden that it is to rue ; — that it is to every noble and generous mind." But I have so much reason to regard its loss with indifference, that I can but faintly participate in your apprehensions. To say the truth, I am at times seriously tired of this chrysalis state of existence, and feel a wish to be trying my wings in a different region. You know that I am not sullen, nor careless of your anxieties ? but if my views are gloomy, are not your fears unfounded ; — or if not unfounded, are they not exaggerated ? This is a subject that will bear the support of poetry : let me recall a passage that you are well acquainted with.

Reason thus with life : —

If I do lose thee, I dolose a thing

That none but fools would reck ; — a breath thou art,

Servile to all the skyey influences,

That do this habitation, where thou keep'st,

Hourly afflict. Merely thou art death's fool ;

For him thou labourist by thy flight to shun,

And yet runn'st tow'rd him still : — Thou art not noble ;

For all the accommodations that thou bear'st

Are nurs'd by baseness : — Thou'rt by no means vaUant j

For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork

Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,

And that thou oft provok'st, yet grossly fear'st

Thy death, which is no more. Thou'rt not thyself

For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains,

That issue out of dust : — Happy thou art not ;

For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get,

Aod what thou hast, forget'st : — Thou art not certain ;

For thy complexion shifts to strange efl'ects,

After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor ;

For like an ass whose back with ingots bows.

Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,

And death unloadeth thee. Friends thou hast none :

For thy own bowels, which do call thee sire,

The mere effusion of thy proper loins,

Do curse the gout, serpigo^ and the rheum,

For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age,

But as it were an after-dinner's sleep,

Dreaming on both : for palPd, thy blessed youth

Becomes as aged — and doth beg the alms

Of palsied Eld : and when thou'rt old and rich.

Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,

To make thy riches pleasant : — What's yet in this

That bears the name of life ? yet in this life

Lie hid more thousand deaths ; yet death we fear,

That makes these odds all even.

Yet I do not wish to bring you to my conclusions ; and if these arguments have an influence that way, you know where to find in the same admirable drama,* the opposite side of the question, stated even more eloquently, and with an effect that will make you shudder.

You will do me the justice to acknowledge that, whatever may be the course of my reflections, I do not often talk or write in the strain I have here been led into ; but it may be a fit occasion, after this introduction, to make some remarks, which I once promis-

• Measure for Measure.

ed you, on the subject of funerals, as they are practised in the eastern states. The traits of peculiarity which distinguish them are all derived, like many other things in our habits and customs, from the practice of the forefathers, and are considerably tinctured with that stoical spirit, which the circumstances they were placed in, and the austere principles of their religion, combined to produce.

In that lot which is common to all, it might have been supposed, that some similarity of practice would have taken place. Yet the manner of disposing of the body after death, is almost as various as are the causes which produce it. The Hebrews gathered the bodies of their friends to the bones of their fathers, in caves. The Egyptians embalmed the frail tenement, which becomes so ignoble the moment the ethereal spirit has fled, and thus handed down to posterity their hideous mummies ; the Greeks buried or burned their dead indiscriminately ; among the Romans, the bodies of the great were always burned. Some savage nations expose their dead on scaffolds, to be devoured by birds ; others commit them to the current of some sacred stream, to be consumed by fishes. The first Christians adopted the practice of burying, which was partly induced by some points of religious belief, and confirmed by the gradual introduction of many superstitious practices, till this method every were accompanied their religion.

The Romans erected their mausolea on the sides of their highways, or at the entrance of their country seats. Now and then an individual, in modern times, recurs to the practice of antiquity. The late Duke of Oldenburgh, the most virtuous and estimable prince of his time, built, by the side of the public burying ground of his little capital, a tomb with the form of a small Grecian temple, in the simplest Doric style» and in the purest taste ; in this were to be deposited the urns containing the ashes of his family, whose bodies were burnt in a small building adjoining. The Marquis of Stafford has placed opposite the entrance of his residence in Staffordshire, a stately tomb for his family. But the common custom of the Christian w^orld, is the literal fulfilment of the precept, " dust to dust ;" and the place of deposite is either within the walls of the church, or the surrounding cemetery that is consecrated with it. In this country alone,* is there any deviation from this solemn, affecting, yet often noxious usage. It is solemn to place the remains of our friends within that sacred temple, which is dedicated to God ; it is affecting to offer our devotions, surrounded by the graves of those we have loved ; but in great cities, it becomes as noxious to the living as it is useless to the dead, and a wise police has gradually prohibited it in most countries, or at least diminished the evil, by reserving such sepulture for those of high distinction.

♦ The deputies who were sent to this country from Pernambuco, in its recent revolt, made a visit to Boston, and nothing appeared to strike them with more surprise, than the seeing some burying grounds in the country, unprotected hv. and out of siglit of, any church.

Funeral ceremonies are every where different, and people of different nations would mutually revolt at those to which they had not been accustomed ; for when the feelings of religion and the anguish of grief have combined their effects on our minds, we are particularly shocked at any thing that differs from us. In the south of Italy, the last care of friends is to array the deceased in a full dress : if a man, his hair is powdered, a sword put by his side, and a bouquet at his breast, and then the body is delivered to monks, or to one of those benevolent fraternities, that devote themselves to the service of the hospitals and the burial of the dead. The appearance of these processions is appalling; the persons who compose them, wear a kind of hood of linen, black or white, as the rest of their dress may be, and which falls down to their waists : it has large apertures for the mouth and eyes, so as to form a sort of mask ; their aspect suggests to those who see them for the first time, that it is a collection of spectres who are taking charge of the individual, who has just entered their ranks. The corpse is taken by them through the streets, exposed on a hearse, and carried to some church, where a mass being said over it, the sexton receives it into his possession, strips it naked, and buries it. Nothing can be more repulsive to unaccustomed eyes, than this hideous contrast of ghastly death, with the gaudy trappings of dress. In England, according to the regulations of an ancient law, partly sumptuary and partly to encourage the woollen trade, the body is always shrouded in woollen ; thus making even the dead contribute to the promotion of manufactures. A Neapolitan, on seeing one of these plain shrouds, would be shocked in turn, and ready to exclaim, with " poor Narcissa."

" Odiou3 ! ia woollen p — 'T would a saint provoke."

At Florence many corpses are taken to the Cathedral by the monks, to have the funeral service performed ; the churches in Italy are always open, and during a short residence in that city, I used to go every evening, towards the close of twilight, to take some turns in that vast and gloomy Cathedral, when a faint gleam was admitted through its elevated windows, barely sufficient with the aid of a few lights on one of the altars, to distinguish the columns and prominent objects of the interior. There seldom failed to enter one of these funeral processions, the monks beginning to chant the solemn de profundis, as soon as they crossed the threshold. Their torches flung a passing glare on the walls, the flash of which hardly reached the top of the immense dome which towered above them, like the lofty vault of some gigantic cavern. I used to follow them to one of the interior chapels, and when the service was over, with its last echoes in my ears, groped my way out of the church., and hurried to the opera house, only a few yards distant : the King of Etruria, then sovereign of Tuscany, and his family, with all the brilliant society of the capital, were there assembled amidst a profusion of lights and the sounds of animated music — for the jfirst moments after this transition, the songs of the opera did not exclusively occupy my meditations ; yet I would not have exchanged them for all the relish of the finest bravura. — But it is not aU^'ays necessary to cross the Atlantic, to witness striking contrasts between the gaiety and the inanity of life. A few years, since, particular reasons made it my duty to attend the funeral of a young and beautiful girl, who was remarkable for her blooming health. Slie had accepted an invitation to a splendid ball ; a sudden illness intervened — and on the evening it took place she was deposited in her grave. The tomb was under a church, the vault of which was lighted up for the occasion. I listened to the recital of the sublime and most affecting burial service over the body of this unfortunate young person, saw her deposited in the tomb among the mouldering coffins of her relatives ; and directly afterwards, went to the party, dazzling with lights and elegance, where her companions were leading down the dance ; not one of whom perhaps had so fair a chance of life, when the invitations were given, as this sweet young creature, who thus had been snatched from the midst of them.

In visiting a cemetery one day, near a city in Italy, the sexton conducted me into a small building by its entrance, where the bodies of three or four children were lying on a platform. They were all very prettily dressed, and the head of each adorned with a wreath of flowers. Ignorant of this custom, I believed them to be asleep ; and thinking it strange they should be in this situation, I started a little on approaching, and perceiving they were dead. The grave-digger asked me, if 1 was afraid of " questi angelini f " a delicacy of expression that struck me in one of his profession. They had been brought that morning, and with all the other corpses that might come in the course of the day, were to be stripped and then deposited in the same pit, whicii was not to be opened again till the expiration of a year. There is one for every day.

An equal diversity prevails in the management and appearance of those enclosures, which protect our final quiet home. Those cemeteries where repose " the countless nations of the dead," are as unlike, as the dress and language of their tenants while living. In some, the ground is thickly studded with monumental stones, which vainly endeavour to prolong the memory of those who have already mingled with the earth beneath ; while others show nothing but those slight svvelhngs of the surface, which, even in a desert, immediately indicate, that they cover a being who will disturb it no more. The Quakers, consistently, with their levelling policy, unwilling that human vanity should attempt by perishable distinctions, to destroy that equality which death has produced, exclude monuments from their burying grounds. The Catholics generally do the same ; a cenotaph is placed in a church, where the deceased is of high rank : but Protestants in most countries, give monuments of some kind to their friends and families : to the former tliis seems an idle vanit)^. When Buonaparte, in one of his early visits to Italy, first saw the English burial place* at Leghorn, which is filled with monuments, he exclaimed, " See those proud islanders, vain even in death."

In some places the burial ground is never entered but by the sexton, with the funeral convoy, and the rank grass rustles unheard ; — in others, the sexton pastures a cow ; — what a practice, and what a perquisite ! In some, the public pathway crosses the ground, that some steps may be saved in the brief bustle of the plodder who passes it, unheeding what he tramples on ; and vagrant boys are seen making the memorials of the dead serve the purposes of their idle play : in others, they form public walks, where children are carried for the air in the morning, and assignations are made for the evening. In some countries, the tomb once built, the task of vanity is discharged, and it is left to itself and to the injuries it may encounter ; — in others, affection supplies the place of a monument, by careful and repeated visits to the grave. At the great church of Rosschild, where lies " the majesty of buried Denmark," the sides of the church are in divisions, that might be chapels if they were not tombs ; where all the noble families of the

♦ It is commonly called 90, as there are more of that natiou than of any other ; but its real appellation is ihe Protestant burying place ; because persons of that sect from all nations are buried in it. Tlipre ij one other devoted to the Jews, and one to the Catholicp.

kingdom have their deceased relatives deposited in coffins of brass and lead, with their gaudy coverings fallen into hideous ruin from damp and rottenness, and exposed to view through iron railings. In the churchyard and church, the graves of humbler individuals are kept in the neatest order, and every Sunday their friends arrange them afresh, and place upon them bunches of flowers. Observing in the floor of this church, a stone covered with wreaths of flowers, I asked the sexton, what person had been just buried there. " O, sir, that was the wife of our pastor : she has been dead several years, but she was very much beloved, and some of the parishioners bring fresh wreaths of flowers every Sunday, and every one takes care not to walk on them." A grave in the yard, which was very carefully kept, and on which two or three bunches of flowers were sticking, he said was preserved in that state by the children of a parent, who had been buried there many years before. These affectionate demonstrations of remembrance, may recall to mind the interesting anecdote which the ancients have related concerning the origin of the Corinthian order. The mother or nurse lamenting the death of a young girl, placed on her grave a basket, containing her toys and playthings, covered with a tile. It chanced to be placed on a root of the acanthus : the leaves of the plant growing up around it, and obstructed by the tile, were bent over, so as to form very nearly the appearance of the Corinthian capital Calliraachus happened to see it, took the hint, and formed the Corinthian column, the most elegant of the orders.

There is one inconvenience attending the cemeteries of cities, which all mankind naturally revolt at, and which draws from every one, the imprecation contained in Shakspeare's epitaph ; — tiiey must in time become so heaped uj) with the spoils of mortality, as to require removal to prevent pestilence. The most remarkable instance of this exhumation took place in Paris, and several years were occupied in the task, which was performed without being generally known to the public. It was commenced previous to the Revolution, but the operation continued under all its political changes. The immense collection of bones, which had accumulated in the burial grounds of that great city during the course of centuries, were thrown into the quarries which are near and partly under it. These excavations are commonly about one hundred feet below the surface, and may now, like the subterranean galleries and quarries of Rome and Naples, be called catacombs. The fancy of the French has, however, exerted itself to produce the most singular exhibition in the world, consisting of a variety of ornamental objects, which were never before formed of similar materials. These bones have been piled up in various forms, such as obelisks, columns, pyramids, &c. ; various inscriptions are scattered about, and with the aid of torch-light, the inhabitant of this living world walks through extensive galleries and chambers, surrounded by the remains of countless thousands. In a few minutes he may pass from the bustle, the frivolity, the gayety, of a brilliant capital, to the caverns beneath it, filled with the relicks of those who in their time also " played many parts ;" and the mementos are innumerable, to enable the philosophic speculator, after a visit to these regions of the dead, to assure those he has left that " let them paint an inch thick, to this complexion they must come at last."

To return from this disgression. When our ancestors first landed in this country, their numbers were so few, that the death of an individual was like a loss in a family: the decease of one of their number was a common concern ; it made the loneliness of their situation still more apparent, and naturally carried their thoughts back to the country and friends they had left, the recollection of whom often filled their minds with sorrow, in spite of their heroic constancy ; these tender recollections came over them with accumulated force, when one of their little band was taken away. The death of an individual, was one of the most interesting events that could happen to them, and the funeral of the deceased was attended as a solemn duty by all, when all participated in the bereavement.

There was another motive that produced this general attendance ; this colony was a religious one, founded expressly for religious purposes ; a funeral was an occasion when religious feelings and impressions could be most strongly produced. The precarioils tenure of our existence, which was then so strikingly obvious, was made use of for the purpose of exhortation, to devote themselves to the constant consideration of their future state, and to give themselves exclusively to the service of God, whose worship after the dictates of their own conscience, was the cause of their expatriation. A funeral was therefore a religious observance which none could neglect.

Our ancestors had left a country they loved, to encounter the unknown horrors of exile in a new and distant land. Their minds were elevated to a high pitch of steady enthusiasm, which could alone have supported them, under the difficulties and dangers they were exposed to. By such men, all the enervating emotions of grief and despondency were discountenanced. A stoical disregard of common sufferings, and of tender feelings, was a practice of religious duty. The nourishing of grief and the indulgence of excess in sensibility, were frowned at ; a submission to the Divine will, and a subjection of all their passions to a rigid discipline, was constantly inculcated. Parents were called upon to yield their children, wives their husbands, and children theiv parents, without a murmur. All the dearest relations were habituated to attend the obsequies of their deceased relatives, and follow them to the grave. Thence arose the practice, that even the nearest relations, in the deepest moments of affliction, followed their friends to their last home. It was expected that a mother should see her beloved child, or the dear partner of her life, deposited in the grave, with pious resignation, and witness that agonizing ceremony, while listening with indescribable horror to the sound of the earth falling on the coffin of the most beloved object of her heart.

This fashion continued when the original purpose, or motive, had ceased, and when the sternness and austerity of their manners and habits no longer existed, so as to afford them any particular gratification in the practice of it. In the course of time, too. as their numbers increased, and a diversity of interests prevailed, the unity of their social state was broken up, and the sort of sympathy, which had existed in a small community, diminished. The forms, however, continued, and the processions lengthened, till at last they were composed of very incongruous materials ; of a few wretched sufferers, who followed the hearse with eyes blinded with weeping, and faltering steps, and with a long train of others, who were performing with indifference or unwillingness an irksome duty. This mode of funerals continued till its inconveniences reached their height. A few years since, the procession was made as long as possible ; the relatives, male and female, all walked ; the acquaintances of both sexes followed, and a train of carriages, generally empty, brought up the rear ; the bells were all tolling, and not, as now, at intervals, but without ceasing ; so that the original purpose of this ceremony of tolling the bells, which was to keep the devil from coming within the sound of them, to annoy the dead, was very etfectually answered. It was considered a mark of sympathy, and called for by decorum, to walk, however bad the weather or the walking miiiht be. Few more effectual modes could be devised, for laying the foundation of a new funeral. This bringing together crowds of indifferent people, produced nothing but the grimace of solemnity ; and the scene so admirably described at the funeral of Mrs. Margaret Bertram of Singleside, in Guy Mannering, had here many prototypes.

The inconvenience began to be gradually remedied : the bells ceased their incessant clattering, and were struck only at intervals ; * the nearest relations, females at least, were excused from going to the grave ; no females walked, and in many cases there was no procession on foot. The desire of a long procession begins to be less an object of pride ; and the vanity of a " grand burying'''^ is becoming more and more confined to " people of colour." A few individuals have dispensed with public processions, in the case of any of their families. The decease of an individual is announced in the papers, for the information of acquaintances, but the funeral obsequies are private, and the ceremonies are fulfilled by the kindness of half a dozen, intimate, sympathizing friends. This practice will gradually become universal. The useless cruelty of forcing agonized hearts to follow to the grave ; the unfeeling indecorum, which requires a display of their anguish to the gaze

• The tolling of bells is sincp entirply srivcn up in Boston

I of the public, and the collecting a crowd of indifterent people to go though a useless ceremony with reluctance, will all be obviated. A great deal of idle expense will be saved, and often to those who can ill afford it. This last consideration should weigh with persons by whom expense will not be felt, to make retrenchment in the practice of the most superfluous of all vanities, that others may follow their example, and not waste in burying the dead, what is wanted for the subsistence of the livins:.

Our burial grounds in large towns throughout the United States are too much crowded, and too much neglected. They have a desolate look of abandonment. At New-Haven there is one on a better plan, and which forms an interesting object. A reform in our cemeteries would be honourable to public feeling. An ample piece of ground selected in the vicinity of large towns, from land which would be of little value for any thing else, should be devoted to this purpose^ It would be easy, without great expense, to give the walls and entrance an appropriate appearance. The yew, the willow, and other funereal trees, would form suitable ornaments within. A sufficient space might be allowed to different families to decorate as they choose, and where their remains would repose for ages untouched. A certain degree of care should be bestowed in keeping the enclosure and its alleys in a state of neatness, which would seem a decent remembrance of the dead. Such a cemeterv would be an interesting spot to visit ; and when dispirited by uiikindness, misfortune, or that listless satiety, that makes life insipid, a walk among the graves of our friends might sooth the mind into composure with this evanescent scene ; make it look forward with calmness, if not complacency, to the time when we shall be re-united to those we have lost ; when we too shall be, where " the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."