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Redburn. His First Voyage

H >> Herman Melville >> Redburn. His First Voyage




For I am an admirer of church architecture; and though, perhaps, the
sums spent in erecting magnificent cathedrals might better go to the
founding of charities, yet since these structures are built, those who
disapprove of them in one sense, may as well have the benefit of them in
another.

It is a most Christian thing, and a matter most sweet to dwell upon and
simmer over in solitude, that any poor sinner may go to church wherever
he pleases; and that even St. Peter's in Rome is open to him, as to a
cardinal; that St. Paul's in London is not shut against him; and that
the Broadway Tabernacle, in New York, opens all her broad aisles to him,
and will not even have doors and thresholds to her pews, the better to
allure him by an unbounded invitation. I say, this consideration of the
hospitality and democracy in churches, is a most Christian and charming
thought. It speaks whole volumes of folios, and Vatican libraries, for
Christianity; it is more eloquent, and goes farther home than all the
sermons of Massillon, Jeremy Taylor, Wesley, and Archbishop Tillotson.

Nothing daunted, therefore, by thinking of my being a stranger in the
land; nothing daunted by the architectural superiority and costliness of
any Liverpool church; or by the streams of silk dresses and fine
broadcloth coats flowing into the aisles, I used humbly to present
myself before the sexton, as a candidate for admission. He would stare a
little, perhaps (one of them once hesitated), but in the end, what could
he do but show me into a pew; not the most commodious of pews, to be
sure; nor commandingly located; nor within very plain sight or hearing
of the pulpit. No; it was remarkable, that there was always some
confounded pillar or obstinate angle of the wall in the way; and I used
to think, that the sextons of Liverpool must have held a secret meeting
on my account, and resolved to apportion me the most inconvenient pew in
the churches under their charge. However, they always gave me a seat of
some sort or other; sometimes even on an oaken bench in the open air of
the aisle, where I would sit, dividing the attention of the congregation
between myself and the clergyman. The whole congregation seemed to know
that I was a foreigner of distinction.

It was sweet to hear the service read, the organ roll, the sermon
preached--just as the same things were going on three thousand five
hundred miles off, at home! But then, the prayer in behalf of her
majesty the Queen, somewhat threw me back. Nevertheless, I joined in
that prayer, and invoked for the lady the best wishes of a poor Yankee.

How I loved to sit in the holy hush of those brown old monastic aisles,
thinking of Harry the Eighth, and the Reformation! How I loved to go a
roving with my eye, all along the sculptured walls and buttresses;
winding in among the intricacies of the pendent ceiling, and wriggling
my fancied way like a wood-worm. I could have sat there all the morning
long, through noon, unto night. But at last the benediction would come;
and appropriating my share of it, I would slowly move away, thinking how
I should like to go home with some of the portly old gentlemen, with
high-polished boots and Malacca canes, and take a seat at their cosy and
comfortable dinner-tables. But, alas! there was no dinner for me except
at the sign of the Baltimore Clipper.

Yet the Sunday dinners that Handsome Mary served up .were not to be
scorned. The roast beef of Old England abounded; and so did the immortal
plum-puddings, and the unspeakably capital gooseberry pies. But to
finish off with that abominable "swipes" almost spoiled all the rest:
not that I myself patronized "swipes" but my shipmates did; and every
cup I saw them drink, I could not choose but taste in imagination, and
even then the flavor was bad.

On Sundays, at dinner-time, as, indeed, on every other day, it was
curious to watch the proceedings at the sign of the Clipper. The servant
girls were running about, mustering the various crews, whose dinners
were spread, each in a separate apartment; and who were collectively
known by the names of their ships.

"Where are the Arethusas?--Here's their beef been smoking this
half-hour."--"Fly, Betty, my dear, here come the Splendids."--"Run,
Molly, my love; get the salt-cellars for the Highlanders."--"You Peggy,
where's the Siddons' pickle-pat?"--"I say, Judy, are you never coming
with that pudding for the Lord Nelsons?"

On week days, we did not fare quite so well as on Sundays; and once we
came to dinner, and found two enormous bullock hearts smoking at each
end of the Highlanders' table. Jackson was indignant at the outrage.

He always sat at the head of the table; and this time he squared himself
on his bench, and erecting his knife and fork like flag-staffs, so as to
include the two hearts between them, he called out for Danby, the
boarding-house keeper; for although his wife Mary was in fact at the
head of the establishment, yet Danby himself always came in for the
fault-findings.

Danby obsequiously appeared, and stood in the doorway, well knowing the
philippics that were coming. But he was not prepared for the peroration
of Jackson's address to him; which consisted of the two bullock hearts,
snatched bodily off the dish, and flung at his head, by way of a
recapitulation of the preceding arguments. The company then broke up in
disgust, and dined elsewhere.

Though I almost invariably attended church on Sunday mornings, yet the
rest of the day I spent on my travels; and it was on one of these
afternoon strolls, that on passing through St. George's-square, I found
myself among a large crowd, gathered near the base of George the
Fourth's equestrian statue.

The people were mostly mechanics and artisans in their holiday clothes;
but mixed with them were a good many soldiers, in lean, lank, and
dinnerless undresses, and sporting attenuated rattans. These troops
belonged to the various regiments then in town. Police officers, also,
were conspicuous in their uniforms. At first perfect silence and decorum
prevailed.

Addressing this orderly throng was a pale, hollow-eyed young man, in a
snuff-colored surtout, who looked worn with much watching, or much toil,
or too little food. His features were good, his whole air was
respectable, and there was no mistaking the fact, that he was strongly
in earnest in what he was saying.

In his hand was a soiled, inflammatory-looking pamphlet, from which he
frequently read; following up the quotations with nervous appeals to his
hearers, a rolling of his eyes, and sometimes the most frantic gestures.
I was not long within hearing of him, before I became aware that this
youth was a Chartist.

Presently the crowd increased, and some commotion was raised, when I
noticed the police officers augmenting in number; and by and by, they
began to glide through the crowd, politely hinting at the propriety of
dispersing. The first persons thus accosted were the soldiers, who
accordingly sauntered off, switching their rattans, and admiring their
high-polished shoes. It was plain that the Charter did not hang very
heavy round their hearts. For the rest, they also gradually broke up;
and at last I saw the speaker himself depart.

I do not know why, but I thought he must be some despairing elder son,
supporting by hard toil his mother and sisters; for of such many
political desperadoes are made.

That same Sunday afternoon, I strolled toward the outskirts of the town,
and attracted by the sight of two great Pompey's pillars, in the shape
of black steeples, apparently rising directly from the soil, I
approached them with much curiosity. But looking over a low parapet
connecting them, what was my surprise to behold at my feet a smoky
hollow in the ground, with rocky walls, and dark holes at one end,
carrying out of view several lines of iron railways; while far beyond,
straight out toward the open country, ran an endless railroad. Over the
place, a handsome Moorish arch of stone was flung; and gradually, as I
gazed upon it, and at the little side arches at the bottom of the
hollow, there came over me an undefinable feeling, that I had previously
seen the whole thing before. Yet how could that be? Certainly, I had
never been in Liverpool before: but then, that Moorish arch! surely I
remembered that very well. It was not till several months after reaching
home in America, that my perplexity upon this matter was cleared away.
In glancing over an old number of the Penny Magazine, there I saw a
picture of the place to the life; and remembered having seen the same
print years previous. It was a representation of the spot where the
Manchester railroad enters the outskirts of the town.




XLII. HIS ADVENTURE WITH THE CROSS OLD GENTLEMAN


My adventure in the News-Room in the Exchange, which I have related in a
previous chapter, reminds me of another, at the Lyceum, some days after,
which may as well be put down here, before I forget it.

I was strolling down Bold-street, I think it was, when I was struck by
the sight of a brown stone building, very large and handsome. The
windows were open, and there, nicely seated, with their comfortable legs
crossed over their comfortable knees, I beheld several sedate,
happy-looking old gentlemen reading the magazines and papers, and one
had a fine gilded volume in his hand.

Yes, this must be the Lyceum, thought I; let me see. So I whipped out my
guide-book, and opened it at the proper place; and sure enough, the
building before me corresponded stone for stone. I stood awhile on the
opposite side of the street, gazing at my picture, and then at its
original; and often dwelling upon the pleasant gentlemen sitting at the
open windows; till at last I felt an uncontrollable impulse to step in
for a moment, and run over the news.

I'm a poor, friendless sailor-boy, thought I, and they can not object;
especially as I am from a foreign land, and strangers ought to be
treated with courtesy. I turned the matter over again, as I walked
across the way; and with just a small tapping of a misgiving at my
heart, I at last scraped my feet clean against the curb-stone, and
taking off my hat while I was yet in the open air, slowly sauntered in.

But I had not got far into that large and lofty room, filled with many
agreeable sights, when a crabbed old gentleman lifted up his eye from
the London Times, which words I saw boldly printed on the back of the
large sheet in his hand, and looking at me as if I were a strange dog
with a muddy hide, that had stolen out of the gutter into this fine
apartment, he shook his silver-headed cane at me fiercely, till the
spectacles fell off his nose. Almost at the same moment, up stepped a
terribly cross man, who looked as if he had a mustard plaster on his
back, that was continually exasperating him; who throwing down some
papers which he had been filing, took me by my innocent shoulders, and
then, putting his foot against the broad part of my pantaloons, wheeled
me right out into the street, and dropped me on the walk, without so
much as offering an apology for the affront. I sprang after him, but in
vain; the door was closed upon me.

These Englishmen have no manners, that's plain, thought I; and I trudged
on down the street in a reverie.




XLIII. HE TAKES A DELIGHTFUL RAMBLE INTO THE COUNTRY; AND MAKES THE
ACQUAINTANCE OF THREE ADORABLE CHARMERS


Who that dwells in America has not heard of the bright fields and green
hedges of England, and longed to behold them? Even so had it been with
me; and now that I was actually in England, I resolved not to go away
without having a good, long look at the open fields.

On a Sunday morning I started, with a lunch in my pocket. It was a
beautiful day in July; the air was sweet with the breath of buds and
flowers, and there was a green splendor in the landscape that ravished
me. Soon I gained an elevation commanding a wide sweep of view; and
meadow and mead, and woodland and hedge, were all around me.

Ay, ay! this was old England, indeed! I had found it at last--there it
was in the country! Hovering over the scene was a soft, dewy air, that
seemed faintly tinged with the green of the grass; and I thought, as I
breathed my breath, that perhaps I might be inhaling the very particles
once respired by Rosamond the Fair.

On I trudged along the London road--smooth as an entry floor--and every
white cottage I passed, embosomed in honeysuckles, seemed alive in the
landscape.

But the day wore on; and at length the sun grew hot; and the long road
became dusty. I thought that some shady place, in some shady field,
would be very pleasant to repose in. So, coming to a charming little
dale, undulating down to a hollow, arched over with foliage, I crossed
over toward it; but paused by the road-side at a frightful announcement,
nailed against an old tree, used as a gate-post--

"man-traps and spring-guns!"

In America I had never heard of the like. What could it mean? They were
not surely cannibals, that dwelt down in that beautiful little dale, and
lived by catching men, like weasels and beavers in Canada!

"A man-trap!" It must be so. The announcement could bear but one
meaning--that there was something near by, intended to catch human
beings; some species of mechanism, that would suddenly fasten upon the
unwary rover, and hold him by the leg like a dog; or, perhaps, devour
him on the spot.

Incredible! In a Christian land, too! Did that sweet lady, Queen
Victoria, permit such diabolical practices? Had her gracious majesty
ever passed by this way, and seen the announcement?

And who put it there?

The proprietor, probably.

And what right had he to do so?

Why, he owned the soil.

And where are his title-deeds?

In his strong-box, I suppose.

Thus I stood wrapt in cogitations.

You are a pretty fellow, Wellingborough, thought I to myself; you are a
mighty traveler, indeed:--stopped on your travels by a man-trap! Do you
think Mungo Park was so served in Africa? Do you think Ledyard was so
entreated in Siberia? Upon my word, you will go home not very much wiser
than when you set out; and the only excuse you can give, for not having
seen more sights, will be man-traps--mantraps, my masters! that
frightened you!

And then, in my indignation, I fell back upon first principles. What
right has this man to the soil he thus guards with dragons? What
excessive effrontery, to lay sole claim to a solid piece of this planet,
right down to the earth's axis, and, perhaps, straight through to the
antipodes! For a moment I thought I would test his traps, and enter the
forbidden Eden.

But the grass grew so thickly, and seemed so full of sly things, that at
last I thought best to pace off.

Next, I came to a hawthorn lane, leading down very prettily to a nice
little church; a mossy little church; a beautiful little church; just
such a church as I had always dreamed to be in England. The porch was
viny as an arbor; the ivy was climbing about the tower; and the bees
were humming about the hoary old head-stones along the walls.

Any man-traps here? thought I--any spring-guns?

No.

So I walked on, and entered the church, where I soon found a seat. No
Indian, red as a deer, could have startled the simple people more. They
gazed and they gazed; but as I was all attention to the sermon, and
conducted myself with perfect propriety, they did not expel me, as at
first I almost imagined they might.

Service over, I made my way through crowds of children, who stood
staring at the marvelous stranger, and resumed my stroll along the
London Road.

My next stop was at an inn, where under a tree sat a party of rustics,
drinking ale at a table.

"Good day," said I.

"Good day; from Liverpool?"

"I guess so."

"For London?"

"No; not this time. I merely come to see the country."

At this, they gazed at each other; and I, at myself; having doubts
whether I might not look something like a horse-thief.

"Take a seat," said the landlord, a fat fellow, with his wife's apron
on, I thought.

"Thank you."

And then, little by little, we got into a long talk: in the course of
which, I told who I was, and where I was from. I found these rustics a
good-natured, jolly set; and I have no doubt they found me quite a
sociable youth. They treated me to ale; and I treated them to stories
about America, concerning which, they manifested the utmost curiosity.
One of them, however, was somewhat astonished that I had not made the
acquaintance of a brother of his, who had resided somewhere on the banks
of the Mississippi for several years past; but among twenty millions of
people, I had never happened to meet him, at least to my knowledge.

At last, leaving this party, I pursued my way, exhilarated by the lively
conversation in which I had shared, and the pleasant sympathies
exchanged: and perhaps, also, by the ale I had drunk:--fine old ale; yes,
English ale, ale brewed in England! And I trod English soil; and
breathed English air; and every blade of grass was an Englishman born.
Smoky old Liverpool, with all its pitch and tar was now far behind;
nothing in sight but open meadows and fields.

Come, Wellingborough, why not push on for London?--Hurra! what say you?
let's have a peep at St. Paul's I Don't you want to see the queen? Have
you no longing to behold the duke? Think of Westminster Abbey, and the
Tunnel under the Thames! Think of Hyde Park, and the ladies!

But then, thought I again, with my hands wildly groping in my two
vacuums of pockets--who's to pay the bill?--You can't beg your way,
Wellingborough; that would never do; for you are your father's son,
Wellingborough; and you must not disgrace your family in a foreign land;
you must not turn pauper.

Ah! Ah! it was indeed too true; there was no St. Paul's or Westminster
Abbey for me; that was flat.

Well, well, up heart, you'll see it one of these days.

But think of it! here I am on the very road that leads to the
Thames--think of that!--here I am--ay, treading in the wheel-tracks of
coaches that are bound for the metropolis!--It was too bad; too bitterly
bad. But I shoved my old hat over my brows, and walked on; till at last
I came to a green bank, deliriously shaded by a fine old tree with broad
branching arms, that stretched themselves over the road, like a hen
gathering her brood under her wings. Down on the green grass I threw
myself and there lay my head, like a last year's nut. People passed by,
on foot and in carriages, and little thought that the sad youth under
the tree was the great-nephew of a late senator in the American
Congress.

Presently, I started to my feet, as I heard a gruff voice behind me from
the field, crying out--"What are you doing there, you young rascal?--run
away from the work'us, have ye? Tramp, or I'll set Blucher on ye!"

And who was Blucher? A cut-throat looking dog, with his black
bull-muzzle thrust through a gap in the hedge. And his master? A sturdy
farmer, with an alarming cudgel in his hand.

"Come, are you going to start?" he cried.

"Presently," said I, making off with great dispatch. When I had got a
few yards into the middle of the highroad (which belonged as much to me
as it did to the queen herself), I turned round, like a man on his own
premises, and said--"Stranger! if you ever Visit America, just call at
our house, and you'll always find there a dinner and a bed. Don't fail."

I then walked on toward Liverpool, full of sad thoughts concerning the
cold charities of the world, and the infamous reception given to hapless
young travelers, in broken-down shooting-jackets.

On, on I went, along the skirts of forbidden green fields; until
reaching a cottage, before which I stood rooted.

So sweet a place I had never seen: no palace in Persia could be
pleasanter; there were flowers in the garden; and six red cheeks, like
six moss-roses, hanging from the casement. At the embowered doorway, sat
an old man, confidentially communing with his pipe: while a little
child, sprawling on the ground, was playing with his shoestrings. A hale
matron, but with rather a prim expression, was reading a journal by his
side: and three charmers, three Peris, three Houris! were leaning out of
the window close by.

Ah! Wellingborough, don't you wish you could step in?

With a heavy heart at his cheerful sigh, I was turning to go, when--is it
possible? the old man called me back, and invited me in.

"Come, come," said he, "you look as if you had walked far; come, take a
bowl of milk. Matilda, my dear" (how my heart jumped), "go fetch some
from the dairy." And the white-handed angel did meekly obey, and handed
me--me, the vagabond, a bowl of bubbling milk, which I could hardly drink
down, for gazing at the dew on her lips.

As I live, I could have married that charmer on the spot!

She was by far the most beautiful rosebud I had yet seen in England. But
I endeavored to dissemble my ardent admiration; and in order to do away
at once with any unfavorable impressions arising from the close scrutiny
of my miserable shooting-jacket, which was now taking place, I declared
myself a Yankee sailor from Liverpool, who was spending a Sunday in the
country.

"And have you been to church to-day, young man?" said the old lady,
looking daggers.

"Good madam, I have; the little church down yonder, you know--a most
excellent sermon--I am much the better for it."

I wanted to mollify this severe looking old lady; for even my short
experience of old ladies had convinced me that they are the hereditary
enemies of all strange young men.

I soon turned the conversation toward America, a theme which I knew
would be interesting, and upon which I could be fluent and agreeable. I
strove to talk in Addisonian English, and ere long could see very
plainly that my polished phrases were making a surprising impression,
though that miserable shooting-jacket of mine was a perpetual drawback
to my claims to gentility.

Spite of all my blandishments, however, the old lady stood her post like
a sentry; and to my inexpressible chagrin, kept the three charmers in
the background, though the old man frequently called upon them to
advance. This fine specimen of an old Englishman seemed to be quite as
free from ungenerous suspicions as his vinegary spouse was full of them.
But I still lingered, snatching furtive glances at the young ladies, and
vehemently talking to the old man about Illinois, and the river Ohio,
and the fine farms in the Genesee country, where, in harvest time, the
laborers went into the wheat fields a thousand strong.

Stick to it, Wellingborough, thought I; don't give the old lady time to
think; stick to it, my boy, and an invitation to tea will reward you. At
last it came, and the old lady abated her frowns.

It was the most delightful of meals; the three charmers sat all on one
side, and I opposite, between the old man and his wife. The middle
charmer poured out the souchong, and handed me the buttered muffins; and
such buttered muffins never were spread on the other side of the
Atlantic. The butter had an aromatic flavor; by Jove, it was perfectly
delicious.

And there they sat--the charmers, I mean--eating these buttered muffins in
plain sight. I wished I was a buttered muffin myself. Every minute they
grew handsomer and handsomer; and I could not help thinking what a fine
thing it would be to carry home a beautiful English wife! how my friends
would stare! a lady from England!

I might have been mistaken; but certainly I thought that Matilda, the
one who had handed me the milk, sometimes looked rather benevolently in
the direction where I sat. She certainly did look at my jacket; and I am
constrained to think at my face. Could it be possible she had fallen in
love at first sight? Oh, rapture! But oh, misery! that was out of the
question; for what a looking suitor was Wellingborough?

At length, the old lady glanced toward the door, and made some
observations about its being yet a long walk to town. She handed me the
buttered muffins, too, as if performing a final act of hospitality; and
in other fidgety ways vaguely hinted her desire that I should decamp.

Slowly I rose, and murmured my thanks, and bowed, and tried to be off;
but as quickly I turned, and bowed, and thanked, and lingered again and
again. Oh, charmers! oh, Peris! thought I, must I go? Yes,
Wellingborough, you must; so I made one desperate congee, and darted
through the door.

I have never seen them since: no, nor heard of them; but to this day I
live a bachelor on account of those ravishing charmers.

As the long twilight was waning deeper and deeper into the night, I
entered the town; and, plodding my solitary way to the same old docks, I
passed through the gates, and scrambled my way among tarry smells,
across the tiers of ships between the quay and the Highlander. My only
resource was my bunk; in I turned, and, wearied with my long stroll, was
soon fast asleep, dreaming of red cheeks and roses.




XLIV. REDBURN INTRODUCES MASTER HARRY BOLTON TO THE FAVORABLE
CONSIDERATION OF THE READER


It was the day following my Sunday stroll into the country, and when I
had been in England four weeks or more, that I made the acquaintance of
a handsome, accomplished, but unfortunate youth, young Harry Bolton. He
was one of those small, but perfectly formed beings, with curling hair,
and silken muscles, who seem to have been born in cocoons. His
complexion was a mantling brunette, feminine as a girl's; his feet were
small; his hands were white; and his eyes were large, black, and
womanly; and, poetry aside, his voice was as the sound of a harp.

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