<h2><SPAN name="chap07"></SPAN>CHAPTER VII</h2>
<p class="letter">
Market—Museum—Picture Gallery—Academy of Fine Arts Drawing
School—Phrenological Society—Miss Wright’s Lecture.</p>
<p>Perhaps the most advantageous feature in Cincinnati is its market, which, for
excellence, abundance, and cheapness, can hardly, I should think, be surpassed
in any part of the world, if I except the luxury of fruits, which are very
inferior to any I have seen in Europe. There are no butchers, fishmongers, or
indeed any shops for eatables, except bakeries, as they are called, in the
town; every thing must be purchased at market; and to accomplish this, the busy
housewife must be stirring betimes, or, ’spite of the abundant supply,
she will find her hopes of breakfast, dinner, and supper for the day defeated,
the market being pretty well over by eight o’clock.</p>
<p>The beef is excellent, and the highest price when we were there, four cents
(about two-pence) the pound. The mutton was inferior, and so was veal to the
eye, but it ate well, though not very fat; the price was about the same. The
poultry was excellent; fowls or full-sized chickens, ready for table, twelve
cents, but much less if bought alive, and not quite fat; turkeys about fifty
cents, and geese the same. The Ohio furnishes several sorts of fish, some of
them very good, and always to be found cheap and abundant in the market. Eggs,
butter, nearly all kinds of vegetables, excellent, and at moderate prices. From
June till December tomatoes (the great luxury of the American table in the
opinion of most Europeans) may be found in the highest perfection in the market
for about sixpence the peck. They have a great variety of beans unknown in
England, particularly the lima-bean, the seed of which is dressed like the
French harico; it furnishes a very abundant crop, and is a most delicious
vegetable: could it be naturalised with us it would be a valuable acquisition.
The Windsor, or broad-bean, will not do well there; Mr. Bullock had them in his
garden, where they were cultivated with much care; they grew about a foot high
and blossomed, but the pod never ripened. All the fruit I saw exposed for sale
in Cincinnati was most miserable. I passed two summers there, but never tasted
a peach worth eating. Of apricots and nectarines I saw none; strawberries very
small, raspberries much worse; gooseberries very few, and quite uneatable;
currants about half the size of ours, and about double the price; grapes too
sour for tarts; apples abundant, but very indifferent, none that would be
thought good enough for an English table; pears, cherries, and plums most
miserably bad. The flowers of these regions were at least equally inferior:
whether this proceeds from want of cultivation or from peculiarity of soil I
know not, but after leaving Cincinnati, I was told by a gentleman who appeared
to understand the subject, that the state of Ohio had no indigenous flowers or
fruits. The water-melons, which in that warm climate furnish a delightful
refreshment, were abundant and cheap; but all other melons very inferior to
those of France, or even of England, when ripened in a common hot-bed.</p>
<p>From the almost total want of pasturage near the city, it is difficult for a
stranger to divine how milk is furnished for its supply, but we soon learnt
that there are more ways than one of keeping a cow. A large proportion of the
families in the town, particularly of the poorer class, have one, though
apparently without any accommodation whatever for it. These animals are fed
morning and evening at the door of the house, with a good mess of Indian corn,
boiled with water; while they eat, they are milked, and when the operation is
completed the milk-pail and the meal-tub retreat into the dwelling, leaving the
republican cow to walk away, to take her pleasure on the hills, or in the
gutters, as may suit her fancy best. They generally return very regularly to
give and take the morning and evening meal; though it more than once happened
to us, before we were supplied by a regular milk cart, to have our jug sent
home empty, with the sad news that “the cow was not come home, and it was
too late to look for her to breakfast now.” Once, I remember, the good
woman told us that she had overslept herself, and that the cow had come and
gone again, “not liking, I expect, to hanker about by herself for
nothing, poor thing.”</p>
<p>Cincinnati has not many lions to boast, but among them are two museums of
natural history; both of these contain many respectable specimens, particularly
that of Mr. Dorfeuille, who has moreover, some highly interesting Indian
antiquities. He is a man of taste and science, but a collection formed strictly
according to their dictates, would by no means satisfy the western metropolis.
The people have a most extravagant passion for wax figures, and the two museums
vie with each other in displaying specimens of this barbarous branch of art. As
Mr. Dorfeuille cannot trust to his science for attracting the citizens, he has
put his ingenuity into requisition, and this has proved to him the surer aid of
the two. He has constructed a pandaemonium in an upper story of his museum, in
which he has congregated all the images of horror that his fertile fancy could
devise; dwarfs that by machinery grow into giants before the eyes of the
spectator; imps of ebony with eyes of flame; monstrous reptiles devouring youth
and beauty; lakes of fire, and mountains of ice; in short, wax, paint and
springs have done wonders. “To give the scheme some more effect,”
he makes it visible only through a grate of massive iron bars, among which are
arranged wires connected with an electrical machine in a neighbouring chamber;
should any daring hand or foot obtrude itself with the bars, it receives a
smart shock, that often passes through many of the crowd, and the cause being
unknown, the effect is exceedingly comic; terror, astonishment, curiosity, are
all set in action, and all contribute to make “Dorfeuille’s
Hell” one of the most amusing exhibitions imaginable.</p>
<p>There is also a picture gallery at Cincinnati, and this was a circumstance of
much interest to us, as our friend Mr. H., who had accompanied Miss Wright to
America, in the expectation of finding a good opening in the line of historical
painting, intended commencing his experiment at Cincinnati. It would be
invidious to describe the picture gallery; I have no doubt, that some years
hence it will present a very different appearance. Mr. H. was very kindly
received by many of the gentlemen of the city, and though the state of the fine
arts there gave him but little hope that he should meet with much success, he
immediately occupied himself in painting a noble historical picture of the
landing of General Lafayette at Cincinnati.</p>
<p>Perhaps the clearest proof of the little feeling for art that existed at that
time in Cincinnati, may be drawn from the result of an experiment originated by
a German, who taught drawing there. He conceived the project of forming a
chartered academy of fine arts; and he succeeded in the beginning to his utmost
wish, or rather, “they fooled him to the top of his bent.” Three
thousand dollars were subscribed, that is to say, names were written against
different sums to that amount, a house was chosen, and finally, application was
made to the government, and the charter obtained, rehearsing formally the names
of the subscribing members, the professors, and the officers. So far did the
steam of their zeal impel them, but at this point it was let off; the affair
stood still, and I never heard the academy of fine arts mentioned afterwards.</p>
<p>This same German gentleman, on seeing Mr. H.’s sketches, was so well
pleased with them, that he immediately proposed his joining him in his drawing
school, with an agreement, I believe that his payment from it should be five
hundred dollars a year. Mr. H. accepted the proposal, but the union did not
last long, and the cause of its dissolution was too American to be omitted. Mr.
H. prepared his models, and attended the class, which was numerous, consisting
both of boys and girls. He soon found that the “sage called
Decipline” was not one of the assistants, and he remonstrated against the
constant talking, and running from one part of the room to another, but in
vain; finding, however, that he could do nothing till this was discontinued, he
wrote some rules, enforcing order, for the purpose of placing them at the door
of the academy. When he shewed them to his colleague, he shook his head, and
said, “Very goot, very goot in Europe, but America boys and gals vill not
bear it, dey will do just vat dey please; Suur, dey vould all go avay next
day.” “And you will not enforce these regulations <i>si
necessaires</i>, Monsieur?” “Olar! not for de vorld.”
“<i>Eh bien</i>, Monsieur, I must leave the young republicans to your
management.”</p>
<p>I heard another anecdote that will help to show the state of art at this time
in the west. Mr. Bullock was shewing to some gentlemen of the first standing,
the very <i>elite</i> of Cincinnati, his beautiful collection of engravings,
when one among them exclaimed, “Have you really done all these since you
came here? How hard you must have worked!”</p>
<p>I was also told of a gentleman of High Cincinnati, TON and critical of his
taste for the fine arts, who, having a drawing put into his hands, representing
Hebe and the bird, umquhile sacred to Jupiter, demanded in a satirical tone,
“What is this?” “Hebe,” replied the alarmed collector.
“Hebe,” sneered the man of taste, “What the devil has Hebe to
do with the American eagle?”</p>
<p>We had not been long at Cincinnati when Dr. Caldwell, the Spurzheim of America,
arrived there for the purpose of delivering lectures on phrenology. I attended
his lectures, and was introduced to him. He has studied Spurzheim and Combe
diligently, and seems to understand the science to which he has devoted
himself; but neither his lectures nor his conversation had that delightful
truth of genuine enthusiasm, which makes listening to Dr. Spurzheim so great a
treat. His lectures, however, produced considerable effect. Between twenty and
thirty of the most erudite citizens decided upon forming a phrenological
society. A meeting was called, and fully attended; a respectable number of
subscribers’ names was registered, the payment of subscriptions being
arranged for a future day. President, vice- president, treasurer, and
secretary, were chosen; and the first meeting dissolved with every appearance
of energetic perseverance in scientific research.</p>
<p>The second meeting brought together one-half of this learned body, and they
enacted rules and laws, and passed resolutions, sufficient, it was said, to
have filled three folios.</p>
<p>A third day of meeting arrived, which was an important one, as on this occasion
the subscriptions were to be paid. The treasurer came punctually, but found
himself alone. With patient hope, he waited two hours for the wise men of the
west, but he waited in vain: and so expired the Phrenological Society of
Cincinnati.</p>
<p>I had often occasion to remark that the spirit of enterprise or improvement
seldom glowed with sufficient ardour to resist the smothering effect of a
demand for dollars. The Americans love talking. All great works, however, that
promise a profitable result, are sure to meet support from men who have
enterprise and capital sufficient to await the return; but where there is
nothing but glory, or the gratification of taste to be expected, it is, I
believe, very rarely that they give any thing beyond “their most sweet
voices.”</p>
<p>Perhaps they are right. In Europe we see fortunes crippled by a passion for
statues, or for pictures, or for books, or for gems; for all and every of the
artificial wants that give grace to life, and tend to make man forget that he
is a thing of clay. They are wiser in their generation on the other side the
Atlantic; I rarely saw any thing that led to such oblivion there.</p>
<p>Soon after Dr. Caldwell’s departure, another lecturer appeared upon the
scene, whose purpose of publicly addressing the people was no sooner made
known, than the most violent sensation was excited.</p>
<p>That a lady of fortune, family, and education, whose youth had been passed in
the most refined circles of private life, should present herself to the people
as a public lecturer, would naturally excite surprise any where, and the nil
admirari of the old world itself, would hardly be sustained before such a
spectacle; but in America, where women are guarded by a seven- fold shield of
habitual insignificance, it caused an effect that can hardly be described.
“Miss Wright, of Nashoba, is going to lecture at the court-house,”
sounded from street to street, and from house to house. I shared the surprise,
but not the wonder; I knew her extraordinary gift of eloquence, her almost
unequalled command of words, and the wonderful power of her rich and thrilling
voice; and I doubted not that if it was her will to do it, she had the power of
commanding the attention, and enchanting the ear of any audience before whom it
was her pleasure to appear. I was most anxious to hear her, but was almost
deterred from attempting it, by the reports that reached me of the immense
crowd that was expected. After many consultations, and hearing that many other
ladies intended going, my friend Mrs. P—, and myself, decided upon making
the attempt, accompanied by a party of gentlemen, and found the difficulty less
than we anticipated, though the building was crowded in every part. We
congratulated ourselves that we had had the courage to be among the number, for
all my expectations fell far short of the splendour, the brilliance, the
overwhelming eloquence of this extraordinary orator.</p>
<p>Her lecture was upon the nature of true knowledge, and it contained little that
could be objected to, by any sect or party; it was intended as an introduction
to the strange and startling theories contained in her subsequent lectures, and
could alarm only by the hints it contained that the fabric of human wisdom
could rest securely on no other base than that of human knowledge.</p>
<p>There was, however, one passage from which common-sense revolted; it was one
wherein she quoted that phrase of mischievous sophistry, “all men are
born free and equal.” This false and futile axiom, which has done, is
doing, and will do so much harm to this fine country, came from Jefferson; and
truly his life was a glorious commentary upon it. I pretend not to criticise
his written works, but commonsense enables me to pronounce this, his favourite
maxim, false.</p>
<p>Few names are held in higher estimation in America, than that of Jefferson; it
is the touchstone of the democratic party, and all seem to agree that he was
one of the greatest of men; yet I have heard his name coupled with deeds which
would make the sons of Europe shudder. The facts I allude to are spoken openly
by all, not whispered privately by a few; and in a country where religion is
the tea-table talk, and its strict observance a fashionable distinction, these
facts are recorded, and listened to, without horror, nay, without emotion.</p>
<p>Mr. Jefferson is said to have been the father of children by almost all his
numerous gang of female slaves. These wretched offspring were also the lawful
slaves of their father, and worked in his house and plantations as such; in
particular, it is recorded that it was his especial pleasure to be waited upon
by them at table, and the hospitable orgies for which his Montecielo was so
celebrated, were incomplete, unless the goblet he quaffed were tendered by the
trembling hand of his own slavish offspring.</p>
<p>I once heard it stated by a democratical adorer of this great man, that when,
as it sometimes happened, his children by Quadroon slaves were white enough to
escape suspicion of their origin, he did not pursue them if they attempted to
escape, saying laughingly, “Let the rogues get off, if they can; I will
not hinder them.” This was stated in a large party, as a proof of his
kind and noble nature, and was received by all with approving smiles.</p>
<p>If I know anything of right or wrong, if virtue and vice be indeed something
more than words, then was this great American an unprincipled tyrant, and most
heartless libertine.</p>
<p>But to return to Miss Wright,—it is impossible to imaging any thing more
striking than her appearance. Her tall and majestic figure, the deep and almost
solemn expression of her eyes, the simple contour of her finely formed head,
unadorned excepting by its own natural ringlets; her garment of plain white
muslin, which hung around her in folds that recalled the drapery of a Grecian
statue, all contributed to produce an effect, unlike anything I had ever seen
before, or ever expect to see again.</p>
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