As soon as I had dressed for going on shore and had packed up the things that we had used on our voyage in order that they might not be stolen during this time of excitement, I obeyed the last call of my impatient sister to come at least to see the last rays of sunrise and went on deck, where I was at once riveted by the beautiful scene that was spread before my eyes.
It was a warm, glorious day. And the green sloping lawns with which the white cottages formed such a cheerful contrast; the trees clad in their first foliage, and suggesting hope by their smiling blossoms; the placid cows feeding quietly in the fields; the domestic chickens just visible in the distance; and the friendly barking of a dog—all seemed to greet me with a first welcome to the shores of this strange country; while the sun shining brightly from an azure sky strewn with soft white clouds mellowed the whole landscape, and so deeply impressed my soul that tears sprang to my eyes and a feeling rose in my heart that I can call nothing else than devotional, for it bowed my knees beneath me and forced sounds from my lips that I could not translate into words for they were mysterious to myself.
A stranger in a strange wide land, not knowing its habits and customs, not understanding its people, nor its workings and aims, yet my mind was not clouded with loneliness. I was happy. Had it not been my own wish that had made me leave the home of a kind father and of a mother beloved beyond all earthly beings. I had succeeded in safely reaching the shores of America. Life was again open before me.
With these thoughts, I turned from the beautiful landscape and finding the captain, a noble-hearted sailor, inquired of him how long it would take us to reach the port of New York. “That is New York,” said he, pointing to a dark mass of buildings with here and there a spire towering in the air. “We shall reach there about eight o’clock, but it is Sunday and you will have to stay on board till to-morrow.” With this he turned away, calling his men to weigh anchor, as the physician whose duty it was to inspect the cargo of men, like cattle, had just left in his boat.
On we went, my sister still dancing and singing for joy; and Mr. R. and myself sitting somewhat apart, he looking despondently into the water, and I with my head firmly raised in the air, happy in heart, but thoughtful in mind and trusting in my inward strength for the future.
I took my breakfast on deck. No one seemed to have any appetite, and I felt somewhat reproved when I heard some one near me say, “She seems to have neither head nor heart—see how tranquilly she can eat at such a time as this!” These words were spoken by one of the cabin passengers, a young man who was exceedingly curious to know why I was going to America and had several times tried to make the rest of the passengers believe that it must be in consequence of an unhappy love. The poor simpleton! he thought that women could enter into life only through the tragedy of a broken heart.
A bell sounded. We were opposite Trinity Church whose bell had just tolled eight. On our right were masses of brick houses and tall chimneys surrounded by a forest of masts; on our left were the romantic shores of New Jersey. Islands and projecting points of land, clad in the brilliant green of the fresh spring foliage, greeted the eye; ferryboats, like monstrous white swans, glided to and fro from the shores; rowboats plied everywhere, the white or red shirts of the oarsmen giving a bright touch of color to the ever-changing panorama. Such was the scene which gave us our first impressions of this new country, seeming to proclaim as its welcome freedom and hospitality to all newcomers.
This new civilization was utterly different from what we had been taught about the United States. Indeed, I think many of the passengers expected to see a half-civilized community who, under a rather anarchical state of government called a “republic,” did just as each individual pleased, and who would greet every newcomer with an enthusiastic joy, inviting him to come and partake of all the good the country could offer.
Such, or similar, were the vague ideas which many passengers of the good ship Deutschland entertained no matter whether in the cabin or steerage. The captain had done his best to rectify these false expectations but with very little success, I am sure.
Therefore, the picture that unrolled itself as we approached slowly from the quarantine to the dock, while arousing the old enthusiasm that started the emigrants from their homes, brought also a kind of disappointment—a surprise to see a well-built and well-regulated “brick-house” city with all the accessories of a large commercial port; a city, in fact, to all appearances not very much unlike European cities. But the admiration with which I had gazed upon Staten Island was gone as I stood before this beautiful scene; the appreciation of nature was mastered by another feeling, a feeling of activity that had become my ideal.