Probably since its creation, in no two hundred and seventy years which have rolled over the world has a greater change been effected in the condition of a country than that which has taken place on the banks of the Hudson since the intrepid and unfortunate Englishman from whom it derives its name explored its waters and anchored opposite Pigskill. "This is a very good land to fall in with, a pleasant land to see," he says, under the date of September 2nd, 1609, "the waters abound with salmons, mullets and rayes, very great. The people of the country came aboard of us, seeming very glad of our coming, and brought green tobacco and gave us of it for knives and beads. They go in loose deer-skins, well dressed, and mantles of feathers, skins and divers sort of good furs. They have yellow copper, and use red copper tobacco pipes." And when his men landed he says they found "great store of men, women and children, and good oysters, grapes and pumpkins, beaver and other skins." Then out of the grossness of the time and of the race the Whites wrought the great wrong which, ever continuing, has marked the course of civilisation on their side and of degradation on that of the Red men. Captain Waymouth, who had been on the coast four or five years before, kidnapped natives as a matter of course. Verazzano, the Italian, who really discovered the Hudson eighty-five years before "Hendrick" entered it, had also kidnapped natives, but Hudson's men made them drunk, and the memory of the carouse is still perpetuated, they say, in the word Manhattan.[7] On the shores of this river, now so populous with many towns and villages and joyous country seats, there is not a trace of the Red man, and at West Point there is the great Military Academy for the education of officers whose principal military service will probably consist in the extermination of the few Red men left within the borders of the Great Republic, thousands of miles to the west.
There was but a glimpse of West Point as the train flew past. Places less known to fame, or to us, were seen and carried off down the river ere we could well learn their names and the number of the population; but Newburgh fixed itself on my notes, and Poughkeepsie on my memory; for I saw on the platform of the last-named station the wisest-looking woman I ever beheld. I was informed she was a famous Professor at Vassar College, where young ladies are fitted to be the mothers of heroes by a long course of study—a prodigy of learning, and especially versed in dangerous isms and ologies—so men told me. She had curls, steel-like and lustrous, "an eye like Mars to threaten and command," scarce adumbrated by the light-blue glasses of a pair of spectacles, a Roman nose, and straight-cut lips, and wore a severely classical garment which seemed to have been cut out of Minerva's peplum, and as she moved I expected to hear the clatter of armour beneath her surcoat of lutestring. And yet she was single!
But there is Albany at last—Queen of the Hudson—gazing up admiringly on its crowning glory, the Capitol, and there we prepare to descend, as we are expected to get out for a short visit. Governor Cornell and some of the State and Municipal authorities were waiting on the platform to receive the Duke of Sutherland, and carriages were drawn up outside for the party, in which we were speedily whisked through the streets of the ancient Capital of the State of New York, up to its principal pride and ornament. We were led by Governor Cornell over the Capitol, containing within its walls all the departments and offices of state, executive and administrative, of the State of New York. I was, I confess, struck with astonishment at the enormous size, the vast pretensions, and the profuse expenditure evinced by the work on the unfinished building, which must be more regarded as a monument of liberal outlay than as an exhibition of perfect taste. I was not, however, filled with the burning indignation which animates the diatribes of a recent writer in the 'North American Review.' "Every patriotic son of the Empire State," says the reviewer, "should go on an expiatory pilgrimage, and pass penitential hours in gazing upon the immeasurable iniquities of the Capitol. Whenever I have the pleasure of strolling about beautiful Albany, I am drawn to that accursed and shameful heap of spoil as irresistibly as a floating spar is drawn to a dirty iceberg. Two millions were shot into the cellar, and its ultimate cost can only be conjectured. The mere interest of the money wasted on this unspeakable pile of stone, which it will require two thousand tons of coal a year to keep warm, would give the city of New York clean streets for ever." Still, it is grandiose in its way, rich in decoration, and will probably be commodious.
The State Capital has for some time been rather notorious in the matter of corruption. Let me not be misunderstood. I do not aver that the bankers, gentry, merchants, and people of New York State en bloc are corrupt. But it is quite certain that there has been for years established a caucus of wire-pullers at Albany, who influence or profess to influence the votes of the legislature or members of the legislature by the use of money. The community of the Empire City, at the time of our visit, was distracted by the contentions of rival parties, which it would be almost impious in me to attempt to analyse, but as far as we could judge from the accounts in the papers the newly elected mayor, Mr. Grace, a young Irishman who had acquired a considerable fortune in South America, was conducting an arduous investigation into abuses in the matter of street cleaning, police work, and public contracts generally, which had grown up under his predecessors, from which good results were expected by one set of critics, and nothing but evil by an opposite party. "The Augean stable," shouted some, "was to be cleansed out thoroughly." "This," said others, "is but a desperate rush of a new set of people on the public purse." Above these cries was to be heard the muttering of the thunderstorm which was so soon to burst over the whole of the Union—the great Roscoe Conkling and Platt controversy.
The train had travelled over the 143 miles of rail at a rate of 35 miles an hour, and we had yet a long way to go before we reached Montreal, and so we were obliged to return to the station, where Governor Cornell, and the courteous gentlemen who had assisted him in entertaining the visitors, took their leave, and at 2.30 our journey was resumed towards the Canadian frontier. The pleasure with which we might have gazed on the delightful scenery through which the railroad runs, skirting Lake Champlain, and the interest we felt in the scenes which Cooper's novels had made familiar, were marred by the sultry heat. We were in a furnace—a heat-wave in which we were like to drown. The air was thunderous, but the thunder came not. "Pity 'tis, and pity 'tis 'tis true" that in such a condition of body no scenery can wean a man from the contemplation of his suffering—for "who can bear a fire in his hand by thinking of the frosty Caucasus?"—or looking at the green mountains of Vermont, or the slopes of the Adirondacks? I was not treated with even moderate civility when I tried to get up a little enthusiasm about Fort Ticonderaga, and the name of Plattsburg produced no impression on the perspiring pilgrims; but, truth to tell, perhaps there were few among us who had ever heard of Sir G. Prevost's defeat, and of the signal victory of the Americans; for, as a rule, we are not accurately instructed in the history of our reverses. And yet the region around was almost as rich in historic memories of the great struggle between the French and the English, and their Continental auxiliaries—between French Indians and English Indians—between the English and the Americans in the two wars—as it was in natural beauty. But we did wake up a little, for the approach of evening had wasted the sultry fires of the day, when, shortly after leaving Rouse's Point, we heard a ringing cheer, and an attempt at "God Save the Queen," and, looking out, saw a small crowd, and two British ensigns waving welcome. We were in the Dominion of Canada.
CHAPTER VI.
CANADA.
Montreal—Quebec—Niagara—Toronto.
Although the hotels we had visited had prepared us for a good deal of magnificence in upholstery, the rooms of the Windsor at Montreal fairly astonished us. There is nothing in the hotel way in London comparable to the house, except perhaps the Grand at Charing Cross, and if adjectives must be used, I could say the Windsor was the grander of the two. Our rooms were almost too beautiful. The Duke's room was robed in purple satin. Lord Stafford was lodged in a bridal suite, decked in Star of India blue satin, with doves and cupids all over the apartments generally. My bedroom was an arrangement in delicately flowered amber satin. I hope Montreal will live up to the Windsor Hotel.
How miserably small this world is becoming. "Ruling the roast" in the banqueting rooms of the hotel was O'Hara, haply descendant of a kingly race (for, as O'Connell declared long ago, "most of the descendants of Irish kings are engaged on the coal quay; and when they're not there, they generally don't make so much"), but certainly for years the trusted aide-de-camp in personal service to Archbishop Whately and to Lord Strathnairn; at least, if he was not, I am not to blame for this averment.
May 10th.—At 11 o'clock, Mr. Hickson, Manager of the Trunk Railway, the Mayor of Montreal, and many irresistible citizens, came to the hotel, and carried off the Duke and some of his friends in carriages to visit the Victoria Bridge, and other objects of attraction; among which, of course, was the hill above the city, whence a very fine view can be obtained in good weather. But this day was not one favourable to sight-seeing. It rained in torrents in the early morning, and there was, moreover, an exceedingly dense mist. Some of us were a little indisposed. Perhaps the incessant motion by rail and by wheel, and the agitated existence which it had been our lot to lead since our arrival, had something to do with it; so it was that several of the party preferred to remain in the seclusion of their rooms till lunch-time and later, when they were tempted to try the St. James's Club, of which they had been made honorary members.