The assistance of Lord Malmesbury has been obtained by the easy progress of addressing a letter to him. But to seduce the presidents of Central America a greater effort has been made. They are told that they are the wisest of the earth's potentates. "Carrera, of Guatemala, though an Indian and uneducated, is a man of natural genius, and has governed for fifteen years with a wisdom which has attracted to him the unanimous adherence of his colleagues." "Don Juan Mora, of Costa Rica, the hero of Rivas, has not had to spill a drop of blood in maintaining in his cities an order much more perfect than any to be found in Europe. He is a man, 'hors de ligne,' altogether out of the common; and although he counts scarcely forty years, but few political examples of old Europe can be compared to him." And as for General Martinez, President of Nicaragua, "since he has arrived at the direction of affairs there, he would have healed all the wounds of the country—had not the fatal influence of North American spirit paralyzed all his efforts." What wonder that Presidents so spoken of should sign away their lands and waters?
But presuming all political obstacles to be removed, and that as regards the possession of the land, and the right of making a canal through it, everything had been conceded, there remain two considerable difficulties. In the first place, the nature of the waters and land, which seems to prohibit the cutting of a canal, except at an expense much more enormous than any that has been ever named; and secondly, the amount of money to be collected, even if M. Belly's figures be correct. He states that he can complete the work for four million eight hundred thousand pounds. From whence is that sum to be procured?
As regards the first difficulty, I, from my own knowledge, can say nothing, not being an engineer, and having seen only a small portion of the projected route. I must therefore refer to M. Belly's engineer, and those who hold views differing from M. Belly. M. Belly's engineer-in-chief is M. Thomé de Gamond, who, in the pamphlet above alluded to, puts forward his calculations, and sends in his demand for the work at four million eight hundred thousand pounds. The route is by the river San Juan, a portion of which is so shallow that canoes in their course are frequently grounded when the waters are low, and other parts of which consist of rapids. It then goes through the lake, a channel through which must be dredged or cleared with gunpowder before it can carry deep-sea ships, and then out to the Pacific by a canal which must be cut through the mountains. There is nothing in the mere sound of all this to make a man, who is ignorant on the subject as I and most men are, feel that the work could not be done for the sum named. But before investing cash in the plan, one would like to be sure of the engineer, and to know that he has made his surveys very accurately.
Now it appears that M. Thomé de Gamond has never set foot in Central America; or, if he has done so now—and I do not know whether he has or has not—he never had done so when he drew out his project. Nor, as it would appear, has he even done his work, trusting to the eyes and hands of others. As far as one can learn, no surveys whatsoever have been taken for this gigantic scheme.
The engineer tells us that he has used marine charts and hydrographical drawings made by officers of various nations, which enable him to regard his own knowledge as sufficiently exact as far as shores and levels of the rivers, &c., are concerned; and that with reference to the track of his canal, he has taken into his service—"utilisé"—the works of various surveying engineers, among them Colonel Child, the American. They, to be sure, do leave him at a loss as to the interior plateau of the Mosquito country, and some regions to the east and south of the lake—the canal must enter the lake by the south-east;—but this is a matter of no moment, seeing that all these countries are covered by virgin forests, and can therefore easily be arranged! Gentlemen capitalists, will you on this showing take shares in the concern?
The best real survey executed with reference to any kindred project was that made by Colonel Child, an officer of engineers belonging to the United States. I believe I may say this without hesitation; and it is to Colonel Child's survey that M. Belly most frequently refers. But the facts, as stated by Colonel Child, prove the absolute absurdity of M. Belly's plan. He was employed in 1851 by an American company, which, as it went to the considerable expense of having such work absolutely done, was no doubt in earnest in its intentions with reference to a canal. Colonel Child did not actually report against the canal. He explained what could be done for a certain sum of money, leaving it to others to decide whether, in effecting so much, that sum of money would be well laid out. He showed that a canal seventeen feet deep might be made—taking the course of the San Juan and that of the lake, as suggested by M. Belly—for a sum of thirty-one millions of dollars, or six million two hundred thousand pounds.
But when the matter came to be considered by men versed in such concerns, it was seen that a canal with a depth of only seventeen feet of water would not admit of such vessels as those by which alone such a canal could be beneficially used. Passengers, treasure, and light goods can easily be transhipped and carried across by railway. The canal, if made at all, must be made for the passage of large vessels built for heavy goods. For such vessels a canal must hold not less than twenty-five feet of water. It was calculated that a cutting of such depth would cost much more than double the sum needed for that intended to contain seventeen feet—more, that is, than twelve million four hundred thousand pounds. The matter was then abandoned, on the conviction that no ship canal made at such a cost could by any probability become remunerative. In point of time it could never compete with the railway. Colonel Child had calculated that a delay of two days would take place in the locks; and even as regards heavy goods, no extreme freight could be levied, as saving of expense with them would be of much greater object than saving of time.
That this decision was reached on good grounds, and that the project, then, at any rate, was made bonâ fide there can, I believe, be no doubt. In opposition to such a decision, made on such grounds, and with no encouragement but that given by the calculations of an engineer who has himself made no surveys, I cannot think it likely that this new plan will ever be carried out The eloquence even of M. Belly, backed by such arguments, will hardly collect four million eight hundred thousand pounds; and even if it did, the prudence of M, Belly would hardly throw such an amount of treasure into the San Juan river.
As I have before said, there appears to have been no company formed. M. Belly is the director, and he has a bureau of direction in the Rue de Provence. But though deficient as regards chairmen, directors, and shareholders, he is magnificently provided with high-sounding officials. Then again there comes a blank. Though the corps of officers was complete when I was in Costa Rica, at any rate as regards their names, the workmen had not arrived; not even the skilled labourers who were to come in detachments of forty-five by each mail packet. The mail packets came, but not the skilled labourers.
Shortly before my arrival at San José, there appeared in the journal published in that town a list of officers to be employed by M. Felix Belly, the Director-General "De la Compañie Del Canal Atlantico-Pacifico." The first of these is Don Andres Le Vasseur, Minister Plenipotentiary, Veteran Officer of the Guard Imperial, Commander of the Legion of Honour, and Knight of the Order of St. Gregory. He is Secretary-General of the Direction. Then there are other secretaries. In the first place, Prince Polignac, Veteran Officer of the Cavalry of the Cazadores in Africa, &c. He at any rate is a fact! for did I not meet him and the O'Gorman Mahon—Nicodemus and Polyphemus—not "standing naked in the open air," but drinking brandy and water at the little inn at Esparza? "Arcades ambo!" The next secretary is Don Henrique Le Vasseur. He is Dibujador fotografo, which I take to mean photographical artist; and then Don Andres L'Heritier; he is the private secretary.
We next come to the engineers. With reference to geology and mineralogy, M. Belly has employed Don José Durocher, whose titles, taken from the faculty of science at Rennes, the Legion of Honour, &c., are too long to quote. Don Eugénio Ponsard, who also is not without his titles, is the working engineer on these subjects. And then joined to them as adjutant-engineer is Don Henrique Peudifer, whose name is also honoured with various adjuncts.
The engineers who are to be intrusted with the surveys and works of the canals are named next. There are four such, to whom are joined five conductors of the works and eight special masters of the men.
All these composed an expedition which left Southampton on the 17th of February, 1859,—or which should so have left it, had they acted up to M. Belly's promises.
Then by the packet of the 2nd of March, 1859, there came—or at least there should have come, for we are told that they sailed—another expedition. I cannot afford to give all the names, but they are full-sounding and very honourable. Among them there was a maker of bricks, who in his own country had been a chief of the works in the imperial manufactory of porcelain at Sèvres. Having enticed him from so high a position, it is to be hoped that M. Belly will treat him well in Central America. There are, or were, hydrographical engineers and agricultural engineers, master carpenters, and masters of various other specialties.
I fear all these gentlemen came to grief on the road, for I think I may say that no such learned troops came through with the mail packets which left Southampton on the days indicated.
Then by the following steamers there would, it is stated, be despatched in succession an inspector of telegraphs, an engineer for making gas, an engineer to be charged with the fabrication of the iron way, an agriculturist-in-chief, a scientific commission for geology, mineralogy, meteorology, and natural history in general. And attached to all the engineers will come—or now long since should have come—the conductors of works and special masters of men, who are joined with them in their operations. These are to consist principally of veteran soldiers of the Engineers and the Artillery.
These gentlemen also must, I fear, have been cast away between Southampton and St. Thomas, if they left the former port by either of the two mail steamers following those two specially indicated. I think I may say positively that no such parties were forwarded from St. Thomas.
The general inspection of the works will be intrusted ultimately to a French and to an English engineer. The Frenchman will of course be M. Thomé de Gamond. The Englishman is to be "Mr. Locke, Member of Parliament." If, indeed, this latter assertion were true! But I think I may take upon myself to say that it is untrue.
All the above certainly sounds very grand, especially when given at full length in the Spanish language. Out there, in Central America, the list is effective. Here, in England, we should like to see the list of the directors as well, and to have some idea how much money has been subscribed. Mankind perhaps can trust M. Belly for much, but not for everything.
In the month of May Don Juan Rafael Mora, the President of Costa Rica, left his dominions and proceeded to Rivas, in Nicaragua, to assist at the inauguration of the opening of the works of the canal. When I and my companion met him at Esparza, accompanied by Nicodemus and Polyphemus, he was making this journey. M. Belly has already described in eloquent language how on a previous occasion this potentate condescended to leave his own kingdom and visit that of a neighbour; thus sacrificing individual rank for the benefit of humanity and civilization. He was willing to do this even once again. Having borrowed a French man-of-war to carry him from Punta-arenas, in his own territories, to St. Juan del Sur, in the territory of Nicaragua, he started with his suite, of whom the Prince and the O'Gorman were such distinguished members. But, lo! when he arrived at Rivas, a few miles up from San Juan del Sur—at Rivas, where with gala holiday triumph the canal was to be inaugurated—the canal from whence were to come new views and unlimited horizons—lo! when he there arrived, no brother-president was there to meet him, no M. Belly, attended by engineers-in-chief and brickmakers from Sèvres, to do him honour. There was not even one French pupil from the Polytechnic School to turn a sod with a silver spade. In lieu of this, some custom-house officer of Nicaragua called upon poor Don Juan to pay the usual duty on bringing his portmanteau into Rivas. Other new views, and other unlimited horizons had, it seems, been dawning on M. Belly.
One of the first words of which a man has to learn the meaning on reaching these countries is "transit." Central America can only be great in the world—as Egypt can be only great—by being a passage between other parts of the world which are in themselves great. We Englishmen all know Crewe; Crewe has become a town of considerable importance, as being a great railway junction. Men must reach Crewe and leave Crewe continually, and the concourse there has rendered labour necessary; labourers of all sorts must live in houses, and require bakers and grocers to supply them. So Crewe has grown up and grown important; and so will Central America become important. Aspinwall—Colon, as we call it—has become a town in this way within the last ten years.
"Transit" in these parts means the trade of carrying people across Central America; and a deal of "transit" has been done and money made by carrying people across Nicaragua by way of the great lake. This has hitherto been effected by shallow-bottomed boats. I will say one word or so on the subject when I have done, as I very soon shall have done, with M. Belly.
Now it is very generally thought that M. Belly when he speaks of this canal means "transit." There can be no question but that a great carrying trade might be opened, much to the advantage of Nicaragua, and to the advantage of Costa Rica also though not to the same extent. If all this canal grandiloquence would pave the way to "transit," might it not be well? What if another agreement could be made, giving to M. Belly and his company the sole right of "transit" through Nicaragua, till the grand canal should be completed—a very long lease; might not something be done in this way? But Don Juan Mora there, Don Juan of Costa Rica, that man altogether "hors de ligne," grand as he is, need know nothing about this. Let him, left quite in darkness as to this new view, these altered unlimited horizons, go to Rivas if he will, and pay his custom dues.
It may be that I have written at too great length, and with an energy disproportionate to the subject, on this matter of the Nicaraguan canal scheme. I do not know that the English public generally, or at any rate that portion of it which may perhaps read my book, is very deeply interested in the subject. We hear now and then something of the Clayton-Bulwer treaty, and a word or two is said about the Panama route to Australia, but the subject is not generally interesting to us, as is that of the passage through Egypt. We can reach Australia by another and a shorter route; and as for Vancouver's Island and Frazer River, they as yet are very young.
But the matter will become of importance. And to a man in Central America, let his visit to that country be ever so short, it becomes at once important. To me it was grievous to find a work so necessary to the world as this of opening a way over the isthmus, tampered with, and to a degree hindered by a scheme which I cannot but regard as unreal. But unreal as it may be, this project has reached dimensions which make it in some way worthy of notice. A French ship of war was sent to take the President Mora and his suite on their unfortunate journey to Rivas; and an English ship of war was sent to bring them back. The extension of such privileges to the president of a republic in Central America may be very well; but men, seeing on what business this president was travelling, not unnaturally regarded the courtesy as an acknowledgment of the importance of M. Belly's work.
I do not wish to use hard names, but I cannot think that the project of which I have been speaking covers any true intention of making a canal. And such schemes, if not real, if not true in the outward bearings which they show to the world, go far to deter others which might be real. And now I will say nothing further about M. Belly.
As I have before stated, there was some few years since a considerable passenger traffic through Central America by the route of the Lake of Nicaragua. This of course was in the hands of the Americans, and the passengers were chiefly those going and coming between the Eastern States and California. They came down to Greytown, at the mouth of the San Juan river, in steamers from New York, and I believe from various American ports, went up the San Juan river in other steamers with flat bottoms prepared for those waters, across the lake in the same way, and then by a good road over the intervening neck of land between the lake and the Pacific.
Of course the Panama railway has done much to interfere with this. In the first place, a rival route has thus been opened; though I doubt whether it would be a quicker route from New York to California if the way by the Lake were well organized. And then the company possessing the line of steamers running to Aspinwall from New York has been able to buy off the line which would otherwise run to Greytown.
But this rivalship has not been the main cause of the total stoppage of the Nicaraguan route. The filibusters came into that land and destroyed everything. They dropped down from California on Realejo, Leon, Manaqua, Granada, and all the western coast of Nicaragua. Then others came from the South-Eastern States, from Mobile and New Orleans, and swarmed up the San Juan river, devouring everything before them. There can be no doubt that Walker's idea, in his attempt to possess himself of this country, was that he could thus become master of the passage across the isthmus. He saw, as so many others have seen, the importance of the locality in this point of view; and he probably felt that if he could make himself lord of the soil by his own exertions, and on his own bottom, his mother country, the United States, would not be slow to recognize him. "I," he would have said, "have procured for you the ownership of the road which is so desirable for you. Pay me, by making me your lieutenant here, and protecting me in that position."
The idea was not badly planned, but it was of course radically unjust. It was a contemplated filching of the road. And Walker found, as all men do find, that he could not easily get good tools to do bad work. He tried the job with a very rough lot of tools; and now, though he has done much harm to others, he has done very little good to himself. I do not think that we shall hear much more of him.
And among the worst of the injuries which he has done is this disturbance of the Lake traffic. This route has been altogether abandoned. There, in the San Juan river, is to be seen one old steamer with its bottom upwards, a relic of the filibusters and their destruction. All along the banks tales are told of their injustice and sufferings. How recklessly they robbed on their journey up the country, and how they returned back to Greytown—those who did return, whose bones are not whitening the Lake shores—wounded, maimed, and miserable.
Along the route traders were beginning to establish themselves, men prepared to provide the travellers with food and drink, and the boats with fuel for their steam. An end for the present has been put to all this. The weak governments of the country have been able to afford no protection to these men, and placed as they were, beyond the protection of England or the United States, they have been completely open to attack. The filibusters for a while have destroyed the transit through Nicaragua; and it is hardly matter of surprise that the presidents of that and the neighbouring republics should catch at any scheme which proposes to give them back this advantage, especially when promise is made of the additional advantage of effectual protection.
It is much to be desired, on all accounts, that this route should be again opened. Here, I think, is to be found the best chance of establishing an immediate competition with the Panama railway. For although such a route will not offer the comfort of the Panama line, or, till it be well organized, the same rapidity, it would nevertheless draw to it a great portion of the traffic, and men and women going in numbers would be carried at cheaper rates; and these cheaper rates in Nicaragua would probably at once lessen the fares now charged by the Panama railway. Competition would certainly be advantageous, and for the present I see no other opening for a competitive route.
A railway along the banks of the San Juan would, I fear, be too expensive. The distance is above one hundred and fifty miles, and the line would be very costly. But a line of rails from the Lake to the Pacific might be made comparatively at a small outlay, and would greatly add to the comfort and rapidity of the passage.
To us Englishmen it is a matter of indifference in whose hands the transit may be, so long as it is free, and open to all the world; so long as a difference of nationality creates no difference in the fares charged or in the facilities afforded. For our own purposes, I have no doubt the Panama line is the best, and will be the route we shall use. But we should be delighted to see a second line opened. If Mr. Squier can accomplish his line through Honduras, we will give him great honour, and acknowledge that he has done the world a service. In the mean time, we shall be very happy to see the Lake transit re-established.
In May I returned from Greytown and the waters of the San Juan to St. Thomas, spending a few days at Aspinwall and Panama on my journey, as I have before explained; and on this occasion, that of my fourth visit to St. Thomas, I was happy enough to escape without any long stay there. My course now lay to the Bermudas, to which islands a steamer runs once a month from that disagreeable little depôt of steam navigation. But as this boat is fitted to certain arrivals and despatches, not at St. Thomas, but at Halifax, and as we reached St. Thomas late on the night of the day on which she should have sailed, and as my missing that vessel would have entailed on me another month's sojourn, and that a summer month, among those islands, it may be imagined that I was rather lively on entering the harbour;—keenly lively to ascertain whether the 'Delta,' such is the name of the Bermuda boat, was or was not gone on her mission.
"I see her red funnel right across the harbour," said the chief officer, looking through infinite darkness. I disbelieved him, and accused him of hoaxing me. "Look yourself," said he, handing me his glass. But all the glasses in the world won't turn darkness into light. I know not by what educational process the eyes of sailors become like those of cats. In this instance the chief officer had seen aright, and then, after a visit to the 'Delta,' made at2 a.m., I went to bed a happy man.
We started the next day at 2p.m., or rather I should say the same day, and I did no more than breakfast on shore. I then left that favoured island, I trust for the last time, an island which I believe may be called the white man's grave with quite as much truth as any place on the coast of Africa. We steamed out, and I stood on the stern taking a last look at the three hills of the panorama. It is certainly a very pretty place seen from a moderate and safe distance, and seen as a picture. But it should be seen in that way, and in no other.
We started, and I, at any rate, with joy. But my joy was not of long duration, for the 'Delta' rolled hideously. Screw boats—propellers as the Americans call them with their wonted genteel propriety—always do roll, and have been invented with the view of making sea passages more disagreeable than they were. Did any one of my readers ever have a berth allotted to him just over the screw? If so, he knows exactly the feeling of being brayed in a mortar.
In four days we reached Bermuda, and made our way into St. George's harbour. Looking back at my fortnight's sojourn there it seems to me that there can be no place in the world as to which there can be less to be said than there is about this island,—sayings at least of the sort in which it is my nature to express itself. Its geological formation is, I have no doubt, mysterious. It seems to be made of soft white stone, composed mostly of little shells; so soft, indeed, that you might cut Bermuda up with a handsaw. And people are cutting Bermuda up with handsaws. One little island, that on which the convicts are established, has been altogether so cut up already. When I visited it, two fat convicts were working away slowly at the last fragment.
But I am no geologist, and can give no opinion favourable or otherwise as to that doctrine that these islands are the crater of an extinct volcano; only, if so, the seas in those days must have held a distance much more respectful than at present. Every one of course knows that there are three hundred and sixty-five of these islands, all lying within twenty miles in length and three in breadth. They are surrounded too by reefs, or rocks hidden by water, which stretch out into the sea in some places for eight or ten miles, making the navigation very difficult; and, as it seemed to me, very perilous.
Nor am I prepared to say whether or no the Bermudas was the scene of Ariel's tricksy doings. They were first discovered in 1522, by Bermudez, a Spaniard; and Shakespere may have heard of them some indistinct surmises, sufficient to enable him to speak of the "still vexed Bermoothes." If these be the veritable scenes of Prospero's incantations, I will at any rate say this—that there are now to be found stronger traces of the breed of Caliban than of that of Ariel. Strong, however, of neither; for though Caliban did not relish working for his master more keenly than a Bermudian of the present day, there was nevertheless about him a sort of energy which is altogether wanting in the existing islanders.
A gentleman has lately written a book—I am told a very good book—called "Bermuda as a Colony, a Fortress, and a Prison." This book I am sure gives accurately all the information which research could collect as to these islands under the headings named. I made no research, and pretend only to state the results of cursory observation.
As a fortress, no doubt it is very strong. I have no doubt on the matter, seeing that I am a patriotic Englishman, and as such believe all English fortifications to be strong. It is, however, a matter on which the opinion of no civilian can be of weight, unless he have deeply studied the subject, in which case he so far ceases to be a civilian. Everything looked very clean and apple-pie; a great many flags were flying on Sundays and the Queen's birthday; and all seemed to be ship-shape. Of the importance to us of the position there can be no question. If it should ever come to pass that we should be driven to use an armed fleet in the Western waters, Bermuda will be as serviceable to us there, as Malta is in the Mediterranean. So much for the fortress.
As to the prison I will say a word or two just now, seeing that it is in that light that the place was chiefly interesting to me. But first for the colony.
Snow is not prevalent in Bermuda, at least not in the months of May and June; but the first look of the houses in each of its two small towns, and indeed all over the island, gives one the idea of a snow storm. Every house is white, up from the ground to the very point of the roof. Nothing is in so great demand as whitewash. They whitewash their houses incessantly, and always include the roofs. This becomes a nuisance, from the glare it occasions; and is at last painful to the eyes. They say there that it is cleanly and cheap, and no one can deny that cleanliness and economy are important domestic virtues.
There are two towns, situated on different islands, called St. George and Hamilton. The former is the head-quarters of the military; the latter of the governor. In speaking of the place as a fortress I should have said that it is the summer head-quarters of the admiral in command of the Halifax station. The dock-yard, which is connected with the convict establishment, is at an island called Ireland; but the residence of the admiral is not far from Hamilton, on that which the Bermudians call the "Continent."
I spent a week in each of these towns, and I can hardly say which I found the most triste. The island, or islands, as one must always say—using the plural number—have many gifts of nature to recommend them. They are extremely fertile. The land, with a very moderate amount of cultivation, will give two crops of ordinary potatoes, and one crop of sweet potatoes in the year. Most fruits will grow here, both those of the tropics and of the more northern latitudes. Oranges and lemons, peaches and strawberries, bananas and mulberries thrive, orwouldthrive equally well, if they were even slightly encouraged to do so.
No climate in the world probably is better adapted for beetroot, potatoes, onions, and tomatoes. The place is so circumstanced geographically that it should be the early market-garden for New York—as to a certain small extent it is. New York cannot get her early potatoes—potatoes in May and June—from her own soil; but Bermuda can give them to her in any quantity.
Arrowroot also grows here to perfection. The Bermudians claim to say that their arrowroot is the best in the world; and I believe that none bears a higher price. Then the land produces barley, oats, and Indian corn; and not only produces them, but produces two, sometimes three crops a year. Let the English farmer with his fallow field think of that.
But with all their advantages Bermuda is very poor. Perhaps, I should add, that on the whole, she is contented with her poverty. And if so, why disturb such contentment?
But, nevertheless, one cannot teach oneself not to be desirous of progress. One cannot but feel it sad to see people neglecting the good things which are under their feet. Lemons and oranges there are now none in Bermuda. The trees suffered a blight some year or two since, and no effort has been made to restore them. I saw no fruit of any description, though I am told I was there in the proper season, and heard much of the fruit that there used to be in former days. I saw no vegetables but potatoes and onions, and was told that as a rule the people are satisfied with them. I did not once encounter a piece of meat fit to be eaten, excepting when I dined on rations supplied by the Convict establishment. The poultry was somewhat better than the meat, but yet of a very poor description. Both bread and butter are bad; the latter quite uneatable. English people whom I met declared that they were unable to get anything to eat. The people, both white and black, seemed to be only half awake. The land is only half cultivated; and hardly half is tilled of that which might be tilled.
The reason of this neglect, for I maintain that it is neglect, should however be explained. Nearly all the islands are covered with small stunted bushy cedar trees. Not cedars such as those of Lebanon, not the cedar trees of Central America, nor those to which we are accustomed in our gardens at home. In Bermuda they are, as I have said, low bushy trees, much resembling stunted firs. But the wood, when it can be found large enough, is, they say, good for shipbuilding; and as shipbuilding has for years been a trade in these islands, the old owners of the property do not like to clear their land.
This was all very well as long as the land had no special virtue—as long as a market, such as that afforded by New York, was wanting. But now that the market has been opened there can be no doubt—indeed, nobody does doubt—that if the land were cleared its money value would be greatly more than it now is. Every one to whom I spoke admitted this, and complained of the backwardness of the island in improvements. But no one tries to remedy this now.
They had a Governor there some years ago who did much to cure this state of things, who did show them that money was to be made by producing potatoes and sending them out of the island. This was Sir W. Reid, the man of storms. He seems to have had some tolerably efficient idea of what a Governor's duty should be in such a place as Bermuda. To be helped first at every table, and to be called "Your Excellency," and then to receive some thousands a year for undergoing these duties is all very well; is very nice for a military gentleman in the decline of years. It is very well that England can so provide for a few of her old military gentlemen. But when the military gentlemen selected can do something else besides, it does make such a difference! Sir W. Reid did do much else; and if there could be found another Sir W. Reid or two to take their turns in Bermuda for six years each, the scrubby bushes would give way, and the earth would bring forth her increase.
The sleepiness of the people appeared to me the most prevailing characteristic of the place. There seemed to be no energy among the natives, no idea of going a-head, none of that principle of constant motion which is found so strongly developed among their great neighbours in the United States. To say that they live for eating and drinking would be to wrong them. They want the energy for the gratification of such vicious tastes. To live and die would seem to be enough for them. To live and die as their fathers and mothers did before them, in the same houses, using the same furniture, nurtured on the same food, and enjoying the same immunity from the dangers of excitement.
I must confess that during the short period of my sojourn there, I myself was completely overtaken by the same sort of lassitude. I could not walk a mile without fatigue. I was always anxious to be supine, lying down whenever I could find a sofa; ever anxious for a rocking-chair, and solicitous for a quick arrival of the hour of bed, which used to be about half-past nine o'clock. Indeed this feeling became so strong with me that I feared I was ill, and began to speculate as to the effects and pleasures of a low fever and a Bermuda doctor. I was comforted, however, by an assurance that everybody was suffering in the same way. "When the south wind blows it is always so." "The south wind must be very prevalent then," I suggested. I was told that it was very prevalent. During the period of my visit it was all south wind.
The weather was not hot—not hot at least to me who had just come up from Panama, and the fiery furnace of Aspinwall. But the air was damp and muggy and disagreeable. To me it was the most trying climate that I had encountered. They have had yellow fever there twice within the last eight years, and on both occasions it was very fatal. Singularly enough on its latter coming the natives suffered much more than strangers. This is altogether opposed to the usual habits of the yellow fever, which is imagined to be ever cautious in sparing those who are indigenous to the land it visits.
The working population here are almost all negroes. I should say that this is quite as much a rule here as in any of the West Indies. Of course there are coloured people—men and women of mixed breed; but they are not numerous as in Jamaica; or, if so, they are so nearly akin to the negro as not to be observed. There are, I think, none of those all but white ladies and gentlemen whose position in life is so distressing.
The negroes are well off; as a rule they can earn 2s.6d.a day, from that to 3s. For exceptional jobs, men cannot be had under a dollar, or 4s.2d. On these wages they can live well by working three days a week, and such appears to be their habit. It seems to me that no enfranchised negro entertains an idea of daily work. Work to them is an exceptional circumstance, as to us may be a spell of fifteen or sixteen hours in the same day. We do such a thing occasionally for certain objects, and for certain objects they are willing to work occasionally.
The population is about eleven thousand. That of the negroes and coloured people does not much exceed that of the whites. That of the females greatly exceeds that of the males, both among the white and coloured people. Among the negroes I noticed this, that if not more active than their brethren in the West Indies, they are at least more civil and less sullen in their manner. But then again, they are without the singular mixture of fun and vanity which makes the Jamaica negro so amusing for a while.
These islands are certainly very pretty; or I should perhaps say that the sea, which forms itself into bays and creeks by running in among them, is very pretty. The water is quite clear and transparent, there being little or no sand on those sides on which the ocean makes its entrance; and clear water is in itself so beautiful. Then the singular way in which the land is broken up into narrow necks, islands, and promontories, running here and there in a capricious, half-mysterious manner, creating a desire for amphibiosity, necessarily creates beauty. But it is mostly the beauty of the sea, and not of the land. The islands are flat, or at any rate there is no considerable elevation in them. They are covered throughout with those scrubby little trees; and, although the trees are green, and therefore when seen from the sea give a freshness to the landscape, they are uninteresting and monotonous on shore.
I must not forget the oleanders, which at the time of my visit were in full flower; which, for aught I know, may be in full flower during the whole year. They are so general through all the islands, and the trees themselves are so covered with the large straggling, but bright blossoms, as to give quite a character to the scenery. The Bermudas might almost be called the oleander isles.
The government consists of a Governor, Council, and House of Assembly; King, Lords, and Commons again. Twenty years ago I should thoroughly have approved of this; but now I am hardly sure whether a population of ten or twelve thousand individuals, of whom much more than half are women, and more than half the remainder are negroes, require so composite a constitution. Would not a strict Governor, with due reference to Downing Street, do almost as well? But then to make the change; that would be difficulty.
"We have them pretty well in hand," a gentleman whispered to me who was in some shape connected with the governing powers. He was alluding, I imagine, to the House of Assembly. Well, that is a comfort. A good majority in the Lower House is a comfort to all men—except the minority.
There are nine parishes, each returning four members to this House of Assembly. But though every parish requires four members, I observe that half a clergyman is enough for most of them. But then the clergymen must be paid. The council here consists chiefly of gentlemen holding government offices, or who are in some way connected with the government; so that the Crown can probably contrive to manage its little affairs. If I remember rightly Gibraltar and Malta have no Lords or Commons. They are fortresses, and as such under military rule; and so is Bermuda a fortress. Independently of her purely military importance, her size and population is by no means equal to that of Malta. The population of Malta is chiefly native, and foreign to us;—and the population of Bermuda is chiefly black.
But then Malta is a conquered colony, whereas Bermuda was "settled" by Britons, as the word goes. That makes all the difference. That such a little spot as Bermuda would in real fact be better without a constitution of its own, if the change could only be managed, that I imagine will be the opinion of most men who have thought about the matter.
And now for the convict establishment. I received great kindness and hospitality from the controller of it; but this, luckily, does not prevent my speaking freely on the matter. He had only just then newly arrived from England, had but now assumed his new duties, and was therefore neither responsible for anything that was amiss, or entitled to credit for what had been permanently established there on a good footing. My own impression is that of the latter there was very little.
In these days our penal establishments, and gaol arrangements generally, are, certainly, matters of very vital importance to us. In olden times, and I include the last century and some part of this among olden times, we certainly did not manage these matters well. Our main object then was to get rid of our ruffians; to punish them also, certainly; but, as a chief matter, to get rid of them. The idea of making use of them, present or future use, had hardly occurred to us; nor had we begun to reflect whether the roguery of coming years might not be somewhat lessened by curing the rogues—by making them not rogues. Now-a-days, we are reflecting a good deal on this question.
Our position now has been all altered. Circumstances have done much to alter it; we can no longer get rid of the worst class of criminals by sending them to Botany Bay. Botany Bay has assumed a will of its own, and won't have them at any price. But philanthropy has done more even than circumstances, very much more. We have the will, the determination as well as the wish, to do well by our rogues, even if we have not as yet found the way; and this is much. In this, as in everything else, the way will follow the will, sooner or later.
But in the mean time we have been trying various experiments, with more or less success; forgiving men half their terms of punishment on good behaviour; giving them tickets of leave; crank-turning; solitary confinement; pietising—what may be called a system of gaol sanctity, perhaps the worst of all schemes, as being a direct advertisement for hypocrisy; work without result, the most distressing punishment going, one may say, next to that of no work at all; enforced idleness, which is horrible for human nature to contemplate; work with result, work which shall pay; good living, pound of beef, pound of bread, pound of potatoes, ounce of tea, glass of grog, pipe of tobacco, resulting in much fat, excellent if our prisoners were stalled oxen to be eaten; poor living, bread and water, which has its recommendations also, though it be so much opposed to the material humanity of the age; going to school, so that life if possible may be made to recommence; very good also, if life would recommence; corporal punishment, flogging of the body, horrible to think of, impossible to be looked at; spirit punishment, flogging of the soul, best of all if one could get at the soul so as to do it effectually.
All these schemes are being tried; and as I believe that they are tried with an honest intent to arrive at that which is best, so also do I believe that we shall in time achieve that which is, if not heavenly best, at any rate terrestrially good;—shall at least get rid certainly of all that is hellishly bad. At present, however, we are still groping somewhat uncertainly. Let us try for a moment to see what the Bermuda groping has done.
I do not in the least doubt that the intention here also has been good; the intention, that is, of those who have been responsible for the management of the establishment. But I do not think that the results have been happy.
At Bermuda there are in round numbers fifteen hundred convicts. As this establishment is one of penal servitude, of course it is to be presumed that those sent there are either hardened thieves, whose lives have been used to crime, or those who have committed heavy offences under the impulse of strong temptation. In dealing with such men I think we have three things to do. Firstly, to rid ourselves of them from amongst us, as we do of other nuisances. This we should do by hanging them; this we did do when we sent them to Botany Bay; this we certainly do when we send them to Bermuda. But this, I would say, is the lightest of the three duties. The second is with reference to the men themselves; to divest them, if by any means it may be possible, of their roguery; to divest them even of a little of their roguery, if so much as that can be done; to teach them that trite lesson, of honesty being the best policy,—so hard for men to learn when honesty has been, as it were, for many years past out of their sight, and even beyond their understanding. This is very important, but even this is not the most important. The third and most important object is the punishment of these men; their punishment, sharp, hard to bear, heavy to body and mind, disagreeable in all ways, to be avoided on account of its odiousness by all prudent men; their condign punishment, so that the world at large may know and see, and clearly acknowledge,—even the uneducated world,—that honesty is the best policy.
That the first object is achieved, I have said. It is achieved as regards those fifteen hundred, and, as far as I know, at a moderate cost. Useful work for such men is to be found at Bermuda. We have dockyards there, and fortifications which cannot be made too strong and weather-tight. At such a place works may be done by convict labour which could not be done otherwise. Whether the labour be economically used is another question; but at any rate the fifteen hundred rogues are disposed of, well out of the way of our pockets and shop windows.
As to the second object, that of divesting these rogues of their roguery, the best way of doing that is the question as to which there is at the present moment so much doubt. As to what may be the best way I do not presume to give an opinion; but I do presume to doubt whether the best way has as yet been found at Bermuda. The proofs at any rate were not there. Shortly before my arrival a prisoner had been killed in a row. After that an attempt had been made to murder a warder. And during my stay there one prisoner was deliberately murdered by two others after a faction fight between a lot of Irish and English, in which the warders were for some minutes quite unable to interfere. Twenty-four men were carried to the hospital dangerously wounded, as to the life of some of whom the doctor almost despaired. This occurred on a day intervening between two visits which I made to the establishment. Within a month of the same time three men had escaped, of whom two only were retaken; one had got clear away, probably to America. This tells little for the discipline, and very little for the moral training of the men.
There is no wall round the prison. I must explain that the convicts are kept on two islands, those called Boaz and Ireland. At Boaz is the parent establishment, at which live the controller, chaplains, doctors, and head officers. But here is the lesser number of prisoners, about six hundred. They live in ordinary prisons. The other nine hundred are kept in two hulks, old men-of-war moored by the breakwaters, at the dockyard establishment in Ireland. It was in one of these that the murder was committed. The labour of these nine hundred men is devoted to the dockyard works. There is a bridge between the two islands over which runs a public road, and from this road there are ways equally public, as far as the eye goes, to all parts of the prison. A man has only to say that he is going to the chaplain's house, and he may pass all through the prison,—with spirits in his pocket if it so please him. That the prisoners should not be about without warders is no doubt a prison rule; but where everything is done by the prisoners, from the building of stores to the picking of weeds and lighting of lamps, how can any moderate number of warders see everything, even if they were inclined? There is nothing to prevent spirits being smuggled in after dark through the prison windows. And the men do get rum, and drunkenness is a common offence. Prisoners may work outside prison walls; but I remember no other prison that is not within walls—that looks from open windows on to open roads, as is here the case.
"And who shaves them?" I happened to ask one of the officers. "Oh, every man has his own razor; and they have knives too, though it is not allowed." So these gentlemen who are always ready for faction fights, whose minds are as constantly engaged on the family question of IrishversusEnglish, which means Protestant against Catholic, as were those of Father Tom Maguire and Mr. Pope, are as well armed for their encounters as were those reverend gentlemen.
The two murderers will I presume be tried, and if found guilty probably hanged; but the usual punishment for outbreaks of this kind seems to be, or to have been, flogging. A man would get some seventy lashes; the Governor of the island would go down and see it done; and then the lacerated wretch would be locked up in idleness till his back would again admit of his bearing a shirt. "But they'll venture their skin," said the officer; "they don't mind that till it comes." "But do they mind being locked up alone?" I asked. He admitted this, but said that they had only six—I think six—cells, of which two or three were occupied by madmen; they had no other place for lunatics. Solitary confinement is what these men do mind, what they do fear; but here there is not the power of inflicting that punishment.
What a piece of work for a man to step down upon;—the amendment of the discipline of such a prison as this! Think what the feeling among them will be when knives and razors are again taken from them, when their grog is first stopped, their liberty first controlled. They sleep together, a hundred or more within talking distance, in hammocks slung at arm's length from each other, so that one may excite ten, and ten fifty. Is it fair to put warders among such men, so well able to act, so ill able to control their actions?
"It is a sore task," said the controller who had fallen down new upon this bit of work; "it is dreadful to have to add misery to those who are already miserable." It is a very sore task; but at the moment I hardly sympathized with his humanity.
So much for the Bermuda practice of divesting these rogues of their roguery. And now a word as to the third question; the one question most important, as I regard it, of their punishment. Are these men so punished as to deter others by the fear of similar treatment? I presume it may be taken for granted that the treatment, such as it is, does become known and the nature of it understood among those at home who are, or might be, on the path towards it.
Among the lower classes, from which these convicts do doubtless mostly come, the goods of life are chiefly reckoned as being food, clothing, warm shelter, and hours of idleness. It may seem harsh to say so thus plainly; but will any philanthropical lover of these lower classes deny the fact? I regard myself as a philanthropical lover of those classes, and as such I assert the fact; nay, I might go further and say that it is almost the same of some other classes. That many have knowledge of other good things, wife-love and children-love—heart-goods, if I may so call them; knowledge of mind-goods, and soul-goods also, I do not deny. That such knowledge is greatly on the increase I verily believe; but with most among us back and belly, or rather belly and back, are still supreme. On belly and back must punishment fall, when sinners such as these are to be punished.
But with us—very often I fear elsewhere, but certainly at that establishment of which we are now speaking—there is no such punishment at all. In scale of dietary among subjects of our Queen, I should say that honest Irish labourers stand the lowest; they eat meat twice a year, potatoes and milk for six months, potatoes without milk for six, and fish occasionally if near the shore. Then come honest English labourers; they generally have cheese, sometimes bacon. Next above them we may probably rank the inhabitants of our workhouses; they have fresh meat perhaps three times a week. Whom shall we name next? Without being anxious to include every shade of English mankind, we may say soldiers, and above them sailors; then, perhaps, ordinary mechanics. There must be many another ascending step before we come to the Bermuda convict, but it would be long to name them; but now let us see what the Bermuda convict eats and drinks every day.
He has a pound of meat; he has good meat too, lucky dog, while those wretched Bermudians are tugging out their teeth against tough carcasses! He has a pound and three ounces of bread; the amount may be of questionable advantage, as he cannot eat it all; but he probably sells it for drink. He has a pound of fresh vegetables; he has tea and sugar; he has a glass of grog—exactly the same amount that a sailor has; and he has an allowance of tobacco-money, with permission to smoke at midday and evening, as he sits at his table or takes his noontide pleasant saunter. So much for belly.
Then as to back, under which I include a man's sinews. The convict begins the day by going to chapel at a quarter-past seven: his prayers do not take him long, for the chaplain on the occasion of my visit read small bits out of the Prayer-book here and there, without any reference to church rule or convict-establishment reason. At half-past seven he goes to his work, if it does not happen to rain, in which case he sits till it ceases. He then works till five, with an hour and a half interval for his dinner, grog, and tobacco. He then has the evening for his supper and amusements. He thus works for eight hours, barring the rain, whereas in England a day labourer's average is about ten. As to the comparative hardness of their labour there will of course be no doubt. The man who must work for his wages will not get any wages unless he works hard. The convict will at any rate get his wages, and of course spares his sinews.
As to clothes, they have, and should have exactly what is best suited to health. Shoes when worn out are replaced. The straw hat is always decent, and just what one would wish to wear oneself in that climate. The jacket and trousers have the word "Boaz" printed over them in rather ugly type; but one would get used to that. The flannel shirts, &c., are all that could be desired.
Their beds are hammocks like those of sailors, only not subject to be swung about by the winds, and not hung quite so closely as those of some sailors. Did any of my readers ever see the beds of an Irish cotters establishment in county Cork? Ah! or of some English cotter's establishments in Dorsetshire, Wiltshire, and Somersetshire?
The hospital arrangements and attendance are excellent as regards the men's comfort; though the ill-arrangement of the buildings is conspicuous, and must be conspicuous to all who see them.
And then these men, when they take their departure, have the wages of their labour given to them,—so much as they have not spent either licitly in tobacco, or illicitly in extra grog. They will take home with them sixteen pounds, eighteen pounds, or twenty pounds. Such is convict life in Bermuda,—unless a man chance to get murdered in a faction fight.
As to many of the comforts above enumerated, it will of course be seen that they are right. The clothes, the hospital arrangements, and sanitary provision are, and should be, better in a prison than they can, unfortunately, be at present among the poor who are not prisoners. But still they must be reckoned among the advantages which convicted crime enjoy.
It seems to be a cruel task, that of lessening the comforts of men who are, at any rate, in truth not to be envied—are to be pitied rather, with such deep, deep pity! But the thing to look to, the one great object, is to diminish the number of those who must be sent to such places. Will such back and belly arrangements as those I have described deter men from sin by the fear of its consequences?
Why should not those felons—for such they all are, I presume, till the term of their punishment be over—why should they sleep after five? why should their diet be more than strong health requires? why should their hours of work be light? Why that drinking of spirits and smoking of tobacco among men whose term of life in that prison should be a term of suffering? Why those long twelve hours of bed and rest, spent in each other's company, with noise, and singing, and jollity? Let them eat together, work together, walk together if you will; but surely at night they should be separated! Faction fights cannot take place unless the fighters have time and opportunity to arrange them.
I cannot but think that there should be great changes in this establishment, and that gradually the punishment, which undoubtedly is intended, should be made to fall on the prisoners. "Look at the prisoners' rations!" the soldiers say in Bermuda when they complain of their own; and who can answer them?
I cannot understand why the island governor should have authority in the prison. He from his profession can know little or nothing about prisons, and even for his own work,—or no work, is generally selected either from personal favour or from military motives, whereas the prison governor is selected, probably with much care, for his specialities in that line. And it must be as easy and as quick for the prison governor to correspond with the Home Office as for the island governor to correspond with the Colonial Office. There has undoubtedly been mischief done by the antagonism of different authorities. It would seem reasonable that all such establishments should be exclusively under the Home Office.
From Bermuda I took a sailing vessel to New York, in company with a rather large assortment of potatoes and onions. I had declared during my unlucky voyage from Kingston to Cuba that no consideration should again tempt me to try a sailing vessel, but such declarations always go for nothing. A man in his misery thinks much of his misery; but as soon as he is out of it it is forgotten, or becomes matter for mirth. Of even a voyage in a sailing vessel one may say that at some future time it will perhaps be pleasant to remember that also. And so I embarked myself along with the potatoes and onions on board the good ship 'Henrietta.'
Indeed, there is no other way of getting from Bermuda to New York; or of going anywhere from Bermuda—except to Halifax and St. Thomas, to which places a steamer runs once a month. In going to Cuba I had been becalmed, starved, shipwrecked, and very nearly quaranteened. In going to New York I encountered only the last misery. The doctor who boarded us stated that a vessel had come from Bermuda with a sick man, and that we must remain where we were till he had learnt what was the sick man's ailment. Our skipper, who knew the vessel in question, said that one of their crew had been drunk in Bermuda for two or three days, and had not yet worked it off. But the doctor called again in the course of the day, and informed us that it was intermittent fever. So we were allowed to pass. It does seem strange that sailing vessels should be subjected to such annoyances. I hardly think that one of the mail steamers going into New York would be delayed because there was a case of intermittent fever on board another vessel from Liverpool.
It is not my purpose to give an Englishman's ideas of the United States, or even of New York, at the fag end of a volume treating about the West Indies. On the United States I should like to write a volume, seeing that the government and social life of the people there—of that people who are our children—afford the most interesting phenomena which we find as to the new world;—the best means of prophesying, if I may say so, what the world will next be, and what men will next do. There, at any rate, a new republic has become politically great and commercially active; whereas all other new republics have failed in those points, as in all others. But this cannot be attempted now.
From New York I went by the Hudson river to Albany, and on by the New York Central Railway to Niagara; and though I do not mean to make any endeavour to describe that latter place as such descriptions should be—and doubtless are and have been—written, I will say one or two words which may be of use to any one going thither.
The route which I took from New York would be, I should think, the most probable route for Englishmen. And as travellers will naturally go up the Hudson river by day, and then on from Albany by nighttrain,*seeing that there is nothing to be seen at Albany, and that these trains have excellent sleeping accommodation—a lady, or indeed a gentleman, should always take a double sleeping-berth, a single one costs half a dollar, and a double one a dollar. This outlay has nothing to do with the travelling ticket;—it will follow that he, she, or they will reach Niagara at about 4a.m.
[*It would be well, however, to visit Trenton Falls by the way, which I did not do. They are but a short distance from Utica, a town on this line of railway.]
[*It would be well, however, to visit Trenton Falls by the way, which I did not do. They are but a short distance from Utica, a town on this line of railway.]
In that case let them not go on to what is called the Niagara Falls station, but pass over at a station called the Suspension Bridge—very well known on the road—to the other or Canada side of the water, and thence go to the Clifton Hotel. There can be no doubt as to this being the site at which tourists should stop. It is one of those cases in which to see is to be sure. But if the traveller be carried on to Niagara Falls station, he has a long and expensive journey to make back; and the United States side of the water will be antagonistic to him in doing so. The ticket from Albany to Niagara cost me six dollars; the carriage from Niagara to the Clifton Hotel cost me five. It was better to pay the five than to remain where I was; but it would have been better still to have saved them. I mention this as passengers to the Falls have no sort of intimation that they should get out at the Suspension Bridge; though they are all duly shaken out of their berths, and inquired of whether or not they be going west.
Nothing ever disappointed me less than the Falls of Niagara—but my raptures did not truly commence for the first half-day. Their charms grow upon one like the conversation of a brilliant man. Their depth and breadth and altitude, their music, colour, and brilliancy are not fully acknowledged at the first moment. It may be that my eye is slow; but I can never take in to its full enjoyment any view or any picture at the first glance. I found this to be especially the case at Niagara. It was only by long gazing and long listening that I was able to appreciate the magnitude of that waste of waters.
My book is now complete, and I am not going to "do the Falls," but I must bid such of my readers as may go there to place themselves between the rocks and the waters of the Horse-shoe Fall after sunset—well after sunset; and there remain—say for half an hour. And let every man do this alone; or if fortune have kindly given him such a companion, with one who may leave him as good as alone. But such companions are rare.
The spot to which I allude will easily make itself known to him, nor will he have any need of a guide. He will find it, of course, before the sun shall set. And, indeed, as to guides, let him eschew them, giving a twenty-five cent piece here and there, so that these men be not ruined for want of custom. Into this spot I made my way, and stood there for an hour, dry enough. The spray did reach my coat, and the drops settled on my hair; but nevertheless, as a man not over delicate, I was dry enough. Then I went up, and when there was enticed to put myself into a filthy oil-skin dress, hat, coat, and trousers, in order that I might be conducted under the Falls. Under the Falls! Well I had been under the Falls; but still, wishing to see everything, I allowed myself to be caparisoned.
A sable conductor took me exactly to the spot where I had been before. But he took me also ten yards further, during which little extra journey I became soaking wet through, in spite of the dirty oil-cloth. The ducking cost me sixty cents, or half a crown.
But I must be allowed one word as to that visit after sunset; one word as to that which an obedient tourist will then see. In the spot to which I allude the visitor stands on a broad safe path, made of shingles, between the rock over which the water rushes and the rushing water. He will go in so far that the spray rising back from the bed of the torrent does not incommode him. With this exception, the further he can go the better; but here also circumstances will clearly show him the spot. Unless the water be driven in by a very strong wind, five yards make the difference between a comparatively dry coat and an absolutely wet one.
And then let him stand with his back to the entrance, thus hiding the last glimmer of the expiring day. So standing he will look up among the falling waters, or down into the deep misty pit, from which they reascend in almost as palpable a bulk. The rock will be at his right hand, high and hard, and dark and straight, like the wall of some huge cavern, such as children enter in their dreams. For the first five minutes he will be looking but at the waters of a cataract,—at the waters, indeed, of such a cataract as we know no other, and at their interior curves, which elsewhere we cannot see. But by-and-by all this will change. He will no longer be on a shingly path beneath a waterfall; but that feeling of a cavern wall will grow upon him, of a cavern deep, deep below roaring seas, in which the waves are there, though they do not enter in upon him; or rather not the waves, but the very bowels of the deep ocean. He will feel as though the floods surrounded him, coming and going with their wild sounds, and he will hardly recognize that though among them he is not in them. And they, as they fall with a continual roar, not hurting the ear, but musical withal, will seem to move as the vast ocean waters may perhaps move in their internal currents. He will lose the sense of one continued descent, and think that they are passing round him in their appointed courses. The broken spray that rises from the depth below, rises so strongly, so palpably, so rapidly, that the motion in every direction will seem equal. And then, as he looks on, strange colours will show themselves through the mist; the shades of gray will become green and blue, with ever and anon a flash of white; and then, when some gust of wind blows in with greater violence, the sea-girt cavern will become all dark and black. Oh, my friend, let there be no one there to speak to thee then; no, not even a heart's brother. As you stand there speak only to the waters.
So much for Niagara. From thence, I went along Lake Ontario, and by the St. Lawrence to Montreal, being desirous of seeing the new tubular railway bridge which is being erected there over the St. Lawrence close to that town. Lake Ontario is uninteresting, being altogether too large for scenery, and too foggy for sight-seeing if there were anything to see. The travelling accommodation, however, is excellent. The points of interest in the St. Lawrence are the thousand islands, among which the steamer glides as soon as it enters the river; and the rapids, of which the most singularly rapid is the one the vessel descends as it nears Montreal. Both of these are very well, but they do not require to be raved about. The Canadian towns at which one touches are interesting as being clean and large, and apparently prosperous;—also as being English, for we hardly reach the French part of Canada till we get down to Montreal.
This tubular bridge over the St. Lawrence, which will complete the whole trunk line of railway from Portland on the coast of Maine, through the two Canadas, to the States of Michigan and Wisconsin, will certainly be one of the most wonderful works of scientific art in the world. It is to consist of different tubes, resting on piers placed in the river bed at intervals sufficient to provide for the free navigation of the water. Some of these, including the centre and largest one, are already erected. This bridge will be over a mile and a half in length, and will cost the enormous sum of one million four hundred thousand pounds, being but two hundred thousand pounds short of the whole cost of the Panama railway. I only wish that the shareholders may have as good a dividend.
From Montreal I went down Lake Champlain to Saratoga Springs, the great resort of New Yorkers when the weather in the city becomes too hot for endurance. I was there late in June, but was very glad at that time to sit with my toes over a fire. The country about Saratoga is by no means pretty. The waters, I do not doubt, are very healthy, and the hotels very good. It must, I should think, be a very dull place for persons who are not invalids.
From Saratoga I returned to New York, and from New York sailed for Liverpool in the exceedingly good ship 'Africa,' Captain Shannon. I have sailed in many vessels, but never in one that was more comfortable or better found.
And on board this most comfortable of vessels I have now finished my book, as I began it on board that one, of all the most uncomfortable, which carried me from Kingston in Jamaica to Cien Fuegos in the island of Cuba.