Than rise in the morning early."
Dressed myself by candlelight. Mrs. —— sent in to ask me if I would see her, but I had not time. Sent her a note, and received, in exchange, the seed of what I suspect is the wood laurel, common in this country, but unknown in ours. Started from the Mansion House (which is a very nice inn, kept by the civilest of people,) at six, and reached the quay just in time to meet the first rosy breaking of the clouds over the Delaware.
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I am sorry to leave Philadelphia. I like the town, and the little I have seen of its inhabitants, very much; I mean in private, for they are intolerable audiences. There is an air of stability, of well-to-do, and occasionally of age, in the town, that reminds me of England. Then, as far as my yesterday's dinner will allow me to judge, I should say, that not only the style of living but the society was superior to that which I saw in New York. Certainly, both the entertainment itself, and the guests, were irreproachable; the first was in very good taste, the latter appeared to me well-informed, and very agreeable. The morning, in spite of all ——'s persuasive prophecies, was beautiful beyond description. The river like the smoothest glass. The sky was bright and cloudless, and along the shores, the distinctness with which each smallest variation of form, or shade of colour, was reflected in the clear mirror of the Delaware was singularly beautiful and fairy-like. The tints of the woods were what no words can convey the slightest idea of. Now, a whole tract of withered oaks, of a red brick hue, like a forest scorched with fire; now, a fresh thicket of cedars of the brightest green; then, wide screens of mingled trees, where the foliage was one gorgeous mixture of vermilion, dark maroon, tender green, golden yellow, and deep geranium. The whole land at a distance appearing to lie under an atmosphere of glowing colour, richer than any crimson mantle that ever clothed the emperors of the olden world; all this illuminated by a sun, which we should have thought too hot for June. It was very beautiful. I did not, however, see much of it, for I was overcome with fatigue, and slept both in the steam-boat and in the stage-coach. When we embarked on the Raritan, I had intended lying down in the cabin, and taking my sleep fairly out, but the jolting of those bitter roads had made every one of the women sick, and the cabin was horrible beyond expression. Came up on deck, and worked till within a quarter of a mile of New York, when I went on the upper deck, and walked about with Colonel ——. I asked Captain Seymour how often the engine would strike in a minute; he told me, thirty-six times. By the by, we had a race, coming down the Raritan, with the Union steam-boat. The Water Witch beat her hollow; but she came so near as to make our water rough, and so impede our progress, that I thought we should have had a concussion; there is something very exciting in emulation, certainly. The sun went down in a watery gloomy sky, though the day had been so fine; and when we got sight of the Narrows, sky, and sea, and land, were all of a dark leaden hue. Our second landing at New York was rather melancholy: shall I ever forget the first? Came up to our comfortless quarters at the American; dressed, and dined, and began finishing my letter to dear ——, when they brought me in another from her, by the packet that has just come in.
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Tuesday, 6th.
It poured with rain. Lucky we did not follow ——'s advice, else we should have been miserably progressing through rain and wretchedness, or perhaps sticking fast in the mud. Went and took a warm bath; came home, breakfasted; after breakfast, practised for an hour; finished letter to ——; wrote to my mother; dined at five. After dinner, Colonel —— called, and very nearly caused a blow-up between me and my father: he came preaching to me the necessity of restoring those lines of Bianca's, in the judgment-scene, which were originally omitted, afterwards restored by me at Milman's request, and again cut out, on finding that they only lengthened the scene, without producing the slightest effect. My father appeared perfectly to agree with me, but added, that I might as well oblige the people. I straightforth said I would do no such thing. People sitting before the curtain must not come and tell me what I am to do behind it. Not one out of a hundred, in the first place, understand what they are talking about; and why, therefore, am I to alter my work at their suggestion, when each particular scene has cost me more consideration than they ever bestowed upon any whole play in all their lives. Besides, it would be with me and my parts as with the old man, his son, and his ass, in the fable of old; I should never have done altering, and yet never satisfy any body; for the most universal talent I know of is that of finding fault. So, all things well considered, the New Yorkians must e'en be contented with the judgment of Miss O'Neill, my father, and their obedient humble servant. Worked till tea-time; after tea, wrote letters till now, bed-time.