Public-domain ebook
by Tyrone Power
Language: en7,252 downloads on Project Gutenberg
Subjects
In: United States·Travel Writing·History - American
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #22796.
Tyrone Power’s two‑volume work is a travelogue that records his observations of North America during the three years 1833‑1835. The opening pages present a formal title page, a dedication to the British public, and a lengthy preface in which Power explains his intent to portray America as a youthful, expansive nation populated by “clear‑headed, energetic, frank and hospitable” people. He promises a straightforward account, free of scandalous gossip, and acknowledges his own partiality as a traveler who spent two years among his subjects. The narrative then begins with a poetic description of his departure from Liverpool on July 16, 1833, followed by a detailed, almost theatrical sketch of the packet‑ship Europe and the bustle of the dock, setting the stage for the ensuing series of impressions that will take the reader from New York to the Alleghenies and beyond.
The voice is that of an earnest, self‑conscious Victorian gentleman, mixing formal address with occasional colloquial humor. Power’s prose is ornate yet descriptive, peppered with classical allusions and a reflective tone that reveals both personal sentiment and a desire to educate his readers. Readers who enjoy 19th‑century travel literature, historical geography, or the period’s blend of memoir and cultural commentary will find this volume rewarding, especially those interested in early American society as seen through the eyes of a British observer.
The opening · free to read
I cannot claim to be of the few who are above this adventitious sort of aid, self-raised and self-sustained; on the contrary, I have a Patron, the only one I ever sought, but whose favour has well repaid my pains of solicitation.
The Patron I allude to is yourself, my Public, much courted, much abused, and commonly accused of either being coldly neglectful or capriciously forgetful of all sorts of merit. To me, at least, you have proved most kind, and hitherto most constant.
Yes, my Public, throughout my humble career, I have at all times of doubt or despondency invariably turned to you, and never have I been coldly regarded. I have leaned heavily upon you, yet have never found your aid withdrawn.
As an Actor, when managers have appeared indifferent, or critics unkind, and my hopes have sunk within me, I have turned to your cheering plaudits, and found in them support for the present and encouragement for the future.
As an Author, this appeal is founded solely upon my desire, not only to amuse, but to make you better acquainted with an important part and parcel of yourself, to which, although widely sundered, you are naturally and morally allied, and of which, as emanating from yourself, and in no way degenerate, you ought to feel very proud.
If happily I succeed in effecting this--if I dissipate one common error, eradicate one vulgar prejudice, or kindle one kindly feeling between you and the people of whom I write, I shall feel that, by so doing, I have at length made you some return for the high favour with which you have repaid my efforts to please you.
In presenting this offering to you, I am aware, at this the ninth hour, that it abounds in errors; and I would furnish a copious list of errata from each sheet, if I thought you would find patience to compare them. But you also know how my time has been employed since my return to you. Whilst you have nightly laughed with me at the playhouse, I have nightly had the devil[1] waiting for a contribution at home, and he is an imp importunate and insatiable. To soothe him, I have worked whilst you have slept.
I do not tell this to deprecate the censure my crude publication merits, but only to excuse the impertinence of dedicating it to you. Nevertheless, being the best commodity I have to lay at your feet, I beg you to accept it, with the very sincere declaration that I am, my only Patron and gentle Public,
Your devoted, Humble servant, TYRONE POWER.
Bolton Street, May Fair, Dec. 23rd, 1835.
Although I have hitherto forborne all preface or dedication on exhibiting my small ware to the public, concluding that the less I said about the matter the better, and from having some scruples about tacking any lady's or gentleman's name to bantlings from which I had withheld my own; yet, in the present case, do I consider myself bound, in a like spirit of honesty, to provide this book with a few words descriptive of its quality, lest my Readers, being disappointed, may charge me with having deluded them under false "Impressions."
I seek, then, to describe America as I saw it,--a mighty country, in the enjoyment of youth and health, and possessing ample room and time for the growth, which a few escapades incident to inexperience and high blood may retard, but cannot prevent. Heaven has written its destinies in the gigantic dimensions allotted to it, and it is not in the power of earth to change the record.
I seek to describe its people as I saw them,--clear-headed, energetic, frank, and hospitable; a community suited to, and labouring for, their country's advancement, rather than for their own present comfort. This is and will be their lot for probably another generation.
To those, then, who seek scandalous innuendos against, or imaginary conversations with, the fair, the brave, and the wise amongst the daughters and sons of America, I say, Read not at all; since herein, though something of mankind, there is little of any man, woman, or child, of the thousands with whom I have reciprocated hospitality and held kind communion.
On the other hand, it can be objected that I set out by giving evidences of a partiality which may cause my judgment to be questioned.
Frankly do I avow this fault, and in my justification have but to add, that the person who, for two years, could be in constant intercourse with a people, to the increase of his fortune, the improvement of his health, and the enlargement of all that is good in his mind, yet feel no partiality in their favour, I pity for coldness more than envy for philosophy.
But whilst I am by nature incapable of repaying kindness by aspersion, I feel that I am no less above the meanness of attempting a return in that base coin--flattery; that which I saw I say, and as I saw it. I blame none of my predecessors for their general views, but claim the right of differing from them wherever I think fit; and if my account of things most on the surface even, should sometimes appear opposite to theirs, I would not, by this, desire to impeach their veracity, since the changes working in society are as rapid, though not quite so apparent, as those operating on the face of these vast countries, whose probable destinies do in truth render almost ridiculous the opinions and speculations of even the sagest of the pigmies that have bustled over their varied surface.
Page EUROPE 1 The Eve of Sailing ib. Sailing Day 4 The Europe Packet 7 The Europe continued.--Change of Affairs. 21 Journal at Sea 28 Land, ho! 34 Port 39 NEW YORK 47 First Impressions of the City ib. A Bivouac 49 Cato's! 58 Theatre 60 PHILADELPHIA 74 The Theatres.--Walnut and Chestnut. 87 JOURNEY TO BOSTON 90 The East River.--Hurl-Gate.--The Sound.--Point Judith.--Newport Harbour.--Providence. ib. BOSTON 101 State Prison 114 Tremont Hotel 117 The Tremont Theatre 123 JOURNAL 127 BALTIMORE 135 Baltimore.--Journal continued. 140 The Temperance House 145 Journal 153 Journal continued.--New Year's Day in New York. 166 The Dutch and Irish Colonies of Pennsylvania. 181 THE STEAM-BOAT 188 Delaware.--Newcastle.--Railroad.--French-Town.--Elk River.--North Point.--Bay of Chesapeake.--Baltimore. ib. WASHINGTON 200 Theatre, Washington 210 Pierce's Garden 215 The Garden, Poetical and Political 221 The Falls of the Potomac 225 Impressions of Washington Society, public and private 240 Impressions of Alexandria.--A blank day. 246 The Fancy Ball 252 LIONS OF WASHINGTON 260 The Indian Cabinet.--House of Legislature.--Senate.-- Ladies.--Senators.--President. ib. BOSTON 284 Journey across the Alleghany Mountains.--Pittsburg. ib. PITTSBURG 309 THE HUDSON 341 ALBANY 347 JOURNEY TO COOPER'S TOWN.--OTSEGO LAKE 361 TRENTON FALLS 369 BUFFALO 386 NIAGARA 391 ERIE CANAL 412 Packet-boat.--Heat.--Cedar Swamp, Long Swamp, and Musquito Swamp.--Utica. ib. LITTLE FALLS 420 Saratoga.--Ballston.--Albany.--Mountain-House.-- Catskill.--Hyde Park.--Lynn. ib.
IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA.
EUROPE.
THE EVE OF SAILING.
In youth's wild days, it cannot but be pleasant This idle roaming round and round the world, With wildfire spirits and heart disengaged. Anster's Faustus.
When one first contemplates a voyage of many thousand miles, attended with long absence, loss of old associates, together with all the charms of home, country, and friends, often too lightly estimated whilst possessed, but always sorely missed when no longer within call; one is yet, and this through no lack of sensibility, apt to regard the sacrifice about to be made to duty as sufficiently light, and, with the aid of manhood and a little philosophy, easy of endurance. The very task, which a resolution of this grave nature necessarily imposes, of making as little of the matter as possible to those dear ones who yield up their fears, and subdue their strong affections, in obedience to your judgment, serves for a time the double purpose of hoodwinking oneself as well as blinding those on whom we seek to practise this kind imposition. Next comes the bustle of getting ready, assisted and cheered by the redoubled attentions of all who love, or feel an interest in one's fortunes. Amidst the excitement, then, of these various feelings, the deep-seated throb of natural apprehension, or home regret, if even felt, struggling for expression, is checked or smothered in the loud note of preparation. The day of departure is fixed at length, it is true; but then it is not yet come: even when contemplating its near approach, one feels wondrous firm and most stoically resolved: at last, however, come it does; and now our chief friend Philosophy, like many other friends, is found most weak when most needed. In vain do we invoke his approved maxims, hitherto so glibly dealt out to silence all gainsayers; yet now, they are either found inapt or are forgotten wholly, until, after a paltry show of defence, braggart Philosophy fairly takes to his heels, and leaves us abandoned to the will of old mother Nature. Now, indeed, arrives the tug; and I, for my part, pity the man who, however savagely resolute, does not feel and own her power. The adieus of those one loves are, at best,--that is, for the shortest absence,--sufficiently unpleasant; but when there lie years, and, to the eye of affection, dangers, in the way of the next meeting, as the old Scotch ballad has it, "O but it is sair to part!" I should, I confess, were I free to choose, prefer the ignominy of cowardly flight, to the greatest triumph firmness ever yet achieved, and be constrained to hear and respond to that last long "good-b'ye!"
As I honestly own that, for various good reasons, I set out with the intention of keeping such a close record of my feelings and doings as my errant habits might permit, with the premeditated design also of giving them to that public which from the beginning had decided that I should do so, I concluded there was nothing like an early start; and finding these thoughts preface, or rather commence, my journal, so do I give them like precedence here.
SAILING DAY.
Liverpool, Tuesday, July 16th, 1833.
I am not usually very particular about dates; but, as there is an odd coincidence connected with the 16th, I desire to note it. On this day, then, about 3 P.M. I was rumbled from Bold-street down to St. George's Dock, accompanied by a few friends, who were resolute to extend their kindness to the latest limit time and tide, those unyielding agents, might allow.
Arrived at the ship's side, I found a number of my own poor countrymen, agricultural speculators, filling up a leisure moment before seeking harvest, in seeing "Who in the world was going to America, all that way," with which country there are now few of the humbler class of Irish but have some intimate associations. Disposing amongst the boys the few shillings I had left in my pocket, I jumped on board the packet-ship Europe, without cross or coin, saving only a couple of luck-pennies, the one an American gold eagle, the present of an amiable gentlewoman; the other a crooked sixpence, suspended by a crimson ribbon, the offering of a fair "maid of the inn," given to me on the very eve of sailing-day with many kind wishes, all of which have been realized.
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