The Cumberland river, on which stands Nashville, the capital of Tennessee, and which empties itself into the Ohio, has scarcely been heard of in England; yet, of all the tobacco consumed in the world, one-seventh goes down this river. I ascended it in a very small steam-boat, one of twelve, six large and six small, then perpetually navigating it, and carrying cotton, tobacco, and passengers. Of these boats, one had carried, the preceding year, three hundred and sixty bales of cotton, of the value of three hundred and sixty thousand dollars.
When we look at the northern ports, and observe the variety, as well as the extent of their commerce, there seems good ground for the expectation expressed to me by many American merchants, that the English language will finally become familiar, not only over all the east, but over all the globe.
Salem, Massachusetts, is a remarkable place. This "city of peace" will be better known hereafter for its commerce than for its witch-tragedy. It has a population of 14,000; and more wealth in proportion to its population than perhaps any town in the world. Its commerce is speculative, but vast and successful. It is a frequent circumstance that a ship goes out without a cargo, for a voyage round the world. In such a case, the captain puts his elder children to school, takes his wife and younger children, and starts for some semi-barbarous place, where he procures some odd kind of cargo, which he exchanges with advantage for another, somewhere else; and so goes trafficking round the world, bringing home a freight of the highest value.
The enterprising merchants of Salem are hoping to appropriate a large share of the whale fishery; and their ships are penetrating the northern ice. They are favourite customers in the Russian ports, and are familiar with the Swedish and Norwegian coasts. They have nearly as much commerce with Bremen as with Liverpool. They speak of Fayal and the other Azores as if they were close at hand. The fruits of the Mediterranean countries are on every table. They have a large acquaintance at Cairo. They know Napoleon's grave at St. Helena, and have wild tales to tell of Mosambique and Madagasca, and store of ivory to show from thence. They speak of the power of the king of Muscat, and are sensible of the riches of the south-east coast of Arabia. It entered some wise person's head, a few seasons ago, to export ice to India. The loss, by melting, of the first cargo, was one fourth. The rest was sold at six cents per lb. When the value of this new import became known, it was in great request; and the latter sales have been almost instantaneous, at ten cents per pound: so that it is now a good speculation to send ice 12,000 miles to supersede salt-petre in cooling sherbet. The young ladies of America have rare shells from Ceylon in their cabinets; and their drawing-rooms are decked with Chinese copies of English prints. I was amused with two: the scene of Hero swooning in the church, from 'Much Ado about Nothing;' and Shakspeare between Tragedy and Comedy. The faces of Comedy and of Beatrice from the hands of Chinese! I should not have found out the place of their second birth but for a piece of unfortunate foreshortening in each. I observed to a friend, one day, upon the beauty of all the new cordage that met my eye, silky and bright. He told me that it was made of Manilla hemp, of the value of which the British seem to be unaware; though it has been introduced into England. He mentioned that he had been the first importer of it. Eight years before, 600 bales per annum were imported: now, 20,000. The merchants doubt whether Australia will be able to surmount the disadvantage of a deficiency of navigable rivers. They have hopes of Van Diemen's Land, think well of Singapore, and acknowledge great expectations from New Zealand. Any body will give you anecdotes from Canton, and descriptions of the Society and Sandwich Islands. They often slip up the western coasts of their two continents; bring furs from the back regions of their own wide land; glance up at the Andes on their return; double Cape Horn; touch at the ports of Brazil and Guiana; look about them in the West Indies, feeling there almost at home; and land, some fair morning, at Salem, and walk home as if they had done nothing very remarkable.
Such is the commerce of Salem, in its most meagre outline. Some illustration of it may be seen in the famous Salem Museum. In regard to this institution, a very harmless kind of monopoly exists. No one is admitted of the museum proprietary body who has not doubled the Capes Horn and Good Hope. Everybody is freely admitted to visit the institution; and any one may contribute, either curiosities or the means of procuring them; but the doubling of the Capes is an unalterable condition of the honour of being a member. This has the effect of preserving a salutary interest among the members of the society, and respect among those who cannot be admitted. The society have laid by 20,000 dollars, after having built a handsome hall for the reception of their curiosities; but a far more important benefit is that it has now become discreditable to return from a long voyage without some novel contribution to the Museum. This sets people inquiring what is already there, and ensures a perpetual and valuable accretion. I am glad to have seen there some Oriental curiosities, which might never otherwise have blessed my sight: especially some wonderful figures, made of an unknown mixed metal, dug up in Java, being caricatures of the old Dutch soldiers sent to guard the first colonies. A reasonably grave person might stand laughing before these for half a day. I had no idea there had been so much humour in the Java people.
The stability of the commercial interest in the United States was put to the test by the great fire at New York. All the circumstances regarding this fire were remarkable; no one more so than that not a single failure took place in consequence.
For many days preceding this fire, the weather had been intensely cold, the thermometer standing at Boston 17 degrees below zero. On the Sunday before, (13th of December 1835,) I went to hear the Seamen's friend, Father Taylor, as he is called, preach at the Sailors' Chapel, in Boston. His eloquence is of a peculiar kind, especially in his prayers, which are absolutely importunate with regard to even external objects of desire. Part of his prayer this day was, "Give us water, water! The brooks refuse to murmur, and the streams are dead. Break up the fountains: open the secret springs that thy hand knoweth, and give us water, water! Let us not perish by a famine of water, or a deluge of conflagration; for we dread the careless wandering spark." I was never before aware of the fear of fire entertained during these intense frosts. It is a reasonable fear. A gentleman, bent upon daily bathing, was seen one morning disconsolately returning from the river side; he had employed three men to break the ice, and they could not get at a drop of water. What hope was there in case of fire?
The New York fire broke out at eight in the evening of Wednesday, the 16th of December. Every one knows the leading facts, that 52 or 54 acres were laid waste; many public buildings destroyed, and property to the amount of 18,000,000 of dollars.
Several particulars were given to me on the spot, three months afterwards, by some observers and some sufferers. At a boarding-house in Broadway, where some friends of mine were residing, there were several merchants, some with their wives, who dined that day in good spirits, and, as they afterwards believed, perfectly content with their worldly condition and prospects. At eight o'clock there was an alarm of fire. It was thought nothing of; alarms of fire being as frequent as day and night in New York. After a while, a merchant of the company was sent for, and some little anxiety was expressed. Two or three persons looked out of the upper windows, but it was a night of such still, deep frost, that the reflection in the atmosphere was much less glaring than might have been expected. Another and then another gentleman was sent for. News came of the absolute lack of water, and that there was no gunpowder in the city—none nearer than Brooklyn. The gentlemen all rushed out; the anxious ladies went from the windows to the fire-side; from the fire-side to the windows. One gentleman and lady in the house, a young German couple, just arrived, and knowing scarcely a word of English, were unaware of all this. None of their chattels, not even the lady's clothes, had been removed from their store in Pearl Street, where lay her books, music, wardrobe, and property of every sort. Pretty early in the morning the poor gentleman was roused from his slumbers, could not comprehend the cause, went down to Pearl Street, and, amidst the amazement and desolation, just contrived to save his account-books, and nothing else. In the morning, the lady was destitute of even a change of raiment, in a foreign country, of whose language she could not speak one word. There were kind hearts all around her, however, and she was quite cheerful when I saw her, a few weeks afterwards.
The lady of the house was so worn, weary, and cold, by three in the morning, that she retired to her room; desiring her domestics to call her if the fire should catch Broad Street; in which case, it would be time to be packing up plate, and moving furniture. In a little while, there was a tap at her door. Broad Street was not on fire, however; but some of the gentlemen had come home, smoked and frost-bitten, and eager for help and warm water. One gentleman, who had nothing more at stake than three chests of Scotch linen, (valuable because home-woven,) of which he saved one, losing a superb Spanish cloak in the process, was desirous that his wife should see the spectacle of the conflagration. She walked down to the scene of the fire with him, after midnight. They took their stand in a square, in the centre of which an immense quantity of costly goods was heaped up. It was strange and vexatious to see the havoc that was made among beautiful things;—cachemere shawls strewing the ground; horses' feet swathed in lace veils; French silks getting entangled and torn in the wheels of the carts. The lady picked up shawls and veils; and when her husband asked her where she proposed to put them, could only throw them down again. After she had left the place, the houses caught fire, all round the square, fell in, and burned the costly goods in one grand bonfire.