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HEREDIA.
(Translated from Spanish.)
W. C. BRYANT
(Ode to Niagara.)
TRANSLATION
All are but parts of one stupendous whole.
(Todo pertenece a un todo admirable.)
MOORE.
US AMERICAN
I made my journey to the United States in October 1886. At the Buena Vista
station, I occupied one of the spacious Pullman cars, the non plus ultra of train comfort, choosing a small, private
dressing-bedroom, which had a door leading to the general grand saloon,
luxuriously decorated in velvet and artistic woodwork. After the second car,
toward the front, was a wide dining hall, with tables set for lunch,
absolutely identical to a Parisian restaurant. We
passed through the feared Tajo de Nochistongo, south of Toluca, at night.
The torrential rains had disrupted the line and the train had to stop in
Celava, where we remained for a day; it did not bother me, since I visited
the beautiful Church of Our Lady of Carmen and the wool textile factory.
Later, we continued our trip to Guanajuato, a city of 58,000 inhabitants,
very important, due to its minerals, as well as the feracity of its
countryside. The fertile plains and cheerful states quickly disappeared, and
it was dawn when a strong Bolsón de Mapimí,,
a vast territory inhabited by savage Indians. We neared El Paso del
Norte,
I waited for some hours to take the train in El Paso, Texas, a city which, of
course, demonstrates the activity, the spirit of innovation that
distinguishes the sons of the great Republic. There is no example of
progress as surprising as that country. Texas has made itself in a very
short time: with great commerce, with good hotels, with lovely houses, and
with the life and movement of a great population; and although Mexico
presents its own, characteristic specialties, there is, upon entering into
the United States, an infinitely large contrast with other Latin American
regions. There, a few steps from Mexico, a city bustles, stirs, thinks and
works at all hours, exceptional in every way, and which, due to industry,
due to commercial development, due to thirst for innovation, due to the
constant effort to accumulate riches and overcome all nations in grandeur,
has achieved its purpose. And let us not believe what is said and repeated
in Europe: that the US American norteamericano, which
literally translates to “North American,” but is used to mean “US
American.”
The 54 hours between Texas and Kansas pass with extraordinary speed in Pullman Sleepers (dormitories) and with the all the
splendor imagined. Kansas is a very beautiful and commercial city, but when
the locomotive whistles through the Quincy fields and crosses through the
immense grain fields like thunder, leaving behind valuable estates on the
right and the left, and it nears Chicago, capital of Illinois, then one can
imagine the proximity of a great center: as if it had half a million
inhabitants. It is interesting to note that in 1833, there was nothing there
but a fort. Today, on the tempestuous Lake Michigan,
sits an enterprising city, a rich breadbasket of indescribable commercial
activity. The lake measures 22,403 square miles and is 1,000 feet deep and
is connected by a strait to Lake Huron, which sends its
waters to Erie, another marvel, populated by beautiful
historic memories, and where Nature formed advantageous ports that serve as
shipyards. Its drainage into the famous, Lake Ontario,
is the source of the famous Niagara Falls. I will mention Lake Superior in
passing, a complement to the five most beautiful lakes in the world, which
lends its volume to the Saint Lawrence River; those fresh water seas
experience terrible storms and horrific hurricanes.
It was natural that I, as a tourist with aspirations of being a historian,
would visit sumptuous factories and shops and colossal offices, the city
hall, the curious and grand Palmer hotel, the theaters, the neighboring Pullman city and the garages where the wagons with that name were built.
That is where I went a few days later; but it was impossible to pass through
Buffalo without stopping at Niagara Falls, even if it was only for 24 hours.
This is what I thought and abandoning the train, I immediately left on
another; my impatience was such that the trip seemed extremely long. When I
arrived, I went to a hotel, ate, asked for an open carriage, because the day
was unsurpassable, and told the driver to take me to Niagara on the Canadian
side. I have never seen anything that looked like the whirlpools called small rapids, nor is it possible for there to be
anything that could produce that indescribable clamor of the titanic surge
that rears up, jumps, crashes, and feebly fights against Goat Island, the promontory that has endured the attacks of the
angry element for centuries. What amazement, what a wonder of Nature, what a
spectacle is produced by the great Horseshoe waterfall,
and the cascade that looks like a wedding veil, and
that secular Rock of the Ages, and the Cave of the Winds: everything is marvelous, powerful, and only
Heredia’s pen could describe it.
The suspension bridge is a work that is in agreement
with everything, to produce an unrivaled effect: the three islands named Three Sisters Islands and the very dangerous and
infernally turbulent grand rapids have interesting
histories and painful lore. There, at the edge of an abyss, they signal the
place where a young woman fell off a cliff; her beau jumped, either to save
her or die with her; the latter occurred. Neither youth, nor beauty, nor
love found mercy in the implacable waves, which dragged the two of them into
its deep, unknown abyss.
What fantastic surf breakers! What a fight is put up by those powerful torrents, which precipitate in disorderly and capricious undulations, in streams of foam that break against the rocks and continue their vertiginous race, searching for the deep bed, and, launching into it, renew, multiply with foolish confusion, and carry their contested abundance until being confused with the waters of the ocean!
Manhattan Island, where the opulent City of Hills– the
primitive name that New York once held– extends today, was discovered by the
Florentine, Giovanni Verrazzano,Half Moon,place or location of drunkenness. The
director of the Dutch Company, which Hudson served, bought it in 1626, for
the sum of 60 guilders, that is, for less than 125
pesetas. The first houses were constructed on Bowling
Green in 1614. The city was later named New York, after the Duke of
York, because in 1674, the Dutch ceded the then-insignificant island– which
was bordered to the north by Harlem River, to the west by the Hudson or
North River, and to the east by the river by that name, which cuts off New
York from Brooklyn– to the English. The bay is majestic and very long,
though its waters are neither beautiful nor crystal-clear, due to the rivers
that mix there, the filth spewed out by the city, and the factories that
occupy the banks of the bay; it has a circumference of 59 miles and the
biggest ships with the largest drafts anchor there. Manhattan Island has an
area of 22 square miles; its length from north to south is 13.5 miles and
its width from east to west is 3. The island had 1,000 inhabitants in 1656
and has 1,070,000 now, not including Brooklyn, which has 400,000.
Property value is proportionate to this prodigious growth; well, land that
was sold for 1,000 duros in 1852 is worth 25,000 today.
“Let’s take a stroll through New York,” repeated a
graceful Mexican woman, who, according to her, was my shadow.
And we would pass whole days strolling through the streets, which we divided
in districts to take advantage of the infinite train
ways, which go everywhere and on which a lady is sure that she will not
have to tolerate the smell of tobacco. All of them have signs that read, No smoking here, Much can be said about the US
Americans, but one must concede them supremacy regarding the respect for
laws and women. The presence of a woman on a train way is enough to provoke
the extinguishing of a cigarette, if any are lit, and match books are hidden
in the deepest pockets.
On Christmas night, I went with Anita to visit a Spanish
church, decorated with simplicity and elegance; afterward, we continued to
the Saint Patrick Cathedral, without fearing the glacial cold, in an open
coach, each wrapped in furs from head to toe. It had snowed in the
afternoon, but the night was serene and the moon was clear and beautiful, it
shone like a lantern in the indigo immensity. The doors of shops, churches,
and houses were adorned with foliage and cedar garlands; whimsical objects
for gifts stood out in shop windows and in some of them we read, I wish you a Happy Christmas, which means, Deseo a usted felices Pascuas; others repeated the
words, Happy New Year. We also saw thousands of
trinkets for the children, presents that Santa Claus, or Saint Nicolas,
gives them, and the significant Christmas tree.
The Catholic cathedral, contemplated in the moonlight, was quite fantastic, because it is a white, transparent marble, on granite bases, and is purely gothic: it has a marked resemblance to the Amiens Cathedral or that of Colombia and, as a whole, to Paris’ Notre Dame. It measures 332 feet in length by 174 in width in the center and is 108 tall.
Two splendid towers, with gorgeous spires, support the cross at 330 feet. The interior, viewed during the day, is somewhat dark, but this same fact lends it severe majesty.
The Protestant church, Trinity, is also of a handsome ogival style: it is very large and beautiful, with a lovely tower and extremely tall steeple. Grace Church is located on New York’s most central and busiest street, Broadway; it is made of white marble and is in the form of an old basilica, with very lovely, multicolored windows. Saint George is an Episcopal temple and one of the most sumptuous: it boasts a Byzantine style and occupies a large space. There are 300 churches in the US American capital, 39 of which are Roman Catholic and the others are reformed, Protestant, Jewish, Lutheran, Unitarian, and other sects. There are many good, happy, healthy, and perfectly-organized charity homes in spacious buildings. One morning, I went with Anita to visit a Protestant hospice. I have always felt immense pity and more than pity, sorrow, while walking through that type of establishment; for the first time, this didn’t happen. The affectionate and amiable sisters showed us the large living and sleeping halls: lovely little beds with very white drapes; careful women, tidy and well-dressed. The great care evident in all the details delighted, seduced, distancing all somber ideas, all harrowing thoughts. I left with a happy heart and praising charity practiced in that manner.
There are three Blackwell’s Island charity houses and
they occupy a building set aside for the magnificent penitentiary and the
Alms and Bellevue. hospitals. There are 38 or 40
shelter-homes and hospitals for the elderly, blind, abandoned blacks,
Catholic orphans, vagabond children, Protestant orphans, and another for
colored people, for needy or incorrigible youth, for children who sell
newspapers, for the repentant, the Midnight Mission, the refuge for boys and
girls, the institute for deaf-mutes, and others of debatable use. Infinite
societies of ladies, copious donations, alms from everyone, sustain many of
the establishments.
My inseparable Anita and I went to pass the day in Central
Park, which, by the way, was delightful. Twelve doors serve as
entrances to the sumptuous promenade, and leafy and pleasant avenues are
artistically combined pumasMuseum Building or dockyard;
there, there are groups of admirable reality and very curious things. The
lake is lovely and it is crossed in graceful and light gondolas. There is a
paleontology hall with extremely strange specimens and art and natural
history galleries. We satisfied our stomachs, which were discontent by this
time due to such a long fast (we had arrived at twelve and it was four), in
a poetic restaurant; out of the ordinary for winter, there was a concert
taking place and the music delighted our ears. Central Park is about a
league in length and has an area of 862 acres. In New York’s diverse
neighborhoods, there are other promenades and parks; among these are:
Battery Park, one of the oldest; Bowling Green; the
beautiful Union square, with a very lovely lake and statues of Washington,
the hero of US American independence, and of Lincoln.
One of the grandest structures is High Bridge, the
bridge over Harlem River, the passageway for waters from the Croton aqueduct
that supply the city; the bridge cost 900,000 duros. Despite how many times
I had read exact descriptions of the Brooklyn Bridge, I had not imagined how
colossal that marvel was, which reaches up to 6,000 feet in length, 85 in
width, and 135 in height. The towers that sustain it stand in the Easter
River at a great depth and support it with thick steel cables; stone arches
and iron columns are the supports for the bridge’s stretch. It has cost 15
million duros; but it is a grandiose work and unique in its
Like London or Paris, it is not easy to give a detailed description of the culmination of the American metropolis; there, methods of transportation have been simplified in order to visit everything: the tramways, the railroads, the carriages, the elevator to avoid the bother of stairs, and lastly, the elevated line, the most audacious and extraordinary idea, and of a perfect combination, to avoid disasters. The railroad is a little higher than the first floor of a house, and traverses a large part of the city: it is comfortable and original. It would take up too much space to mention all the schools, colleges, institutes, drawing and music galleries, for study and teaching; but I will say that there are some for blacks and whites, for Protestants and Catholics. The State supports 232 and many are directed by primary education professors. There are two normal schools and one exemplary school. Academies; the University founded in 1831, sumptuous building; the College of Medicine; free schools; and night schools; and in sum, everything that can promote intellectual development.
I spent many days visiting libraries. Astor’s,
Wall Street, which is now the brain of commerce, was one of the city’s first
streets; the Treasurydollars or duros.
It keeps an immortal memory on its grounds: that of Washington’s oath, upon
taking possession of the presidency of the Republic in April 1789. The
independence, which he achieved, had been proclaimed in the Hall, and amidst
the acclamations, he took an oath before Chancellor Livingston. I have seen
the act reproduced in a beautiful painting. Washington was dressed in black
velvet, with silk stockings and shoes with silver buckles. The powdered wig,
the braid of the last third of the 17th century, and the dagger, completed
the outfit. Of course, according to the time period’s chronicles, the crowd
was immense and gathered at the Federal Hall applauding the warrior. Savings
banks and banks can be found in profusion on Wall
Street, the oldest is New York Bank,Grand Central
Hotel, and comfortably, at that. Its height of eight floors would scare
anyone who did not know that elevators existed. Hoffmann is also made of white marble and very elegant; the Fifth
Avenue hotel occupies one of the best sites in the city, everything in it is
a dazzling luxury: the rooms, the furniture, the dinning rooms; the same
goes for the Victoria and the Windsor.
While in Brooklyn, it occurred to me to visit another city full of secrets
and mysteries, of abnegations and martyrs, of virtues, of glories, and of
heroes; of ignored love, of bitter suffering, and who knows how many
deceptions, so many sacrifices that hide in its heart! Regarding space and
public squares, streets, gardens, artistic creations, and costly buildings,
there is nothing to envy, but those splendors are sad, lugubrious, silent;
there is neither life nor movement in the opulent city: everything is
melancholy, even though the eloquence of its silence and loneliness is Greenwood.
Let us return to the city of the living and enter into another order of
ideas, very distinct and more flattering. Among my New York friends, I
counted a German doctor, a man of vast education and well-versed, not only
in the sciences, but also in history and letters. He accompanied me on the
visit I made to the Herald, located on Broadway– the
city’s most central and commercial street– and one of portentous movement of
carriages and tramways, in addition to being crowded by people on foot. The
Herald building is a monument, a white marble
palace that has cost a mere three million dollarsdollar is equivalent
one duro.Herald, The Times, The World, The Tribune, The Sun and others are of immense circulation. Relatively
speaking, there are not many newspapers, but they produce beautiful series,
and counting on the numerous weeklies and biweeklies, literary, style,
science, industry, and weekly editions of the large newspapers at very
extremely reduced prices, they form a considerable total.
“One of the powerful impulses for the press is woman,” the German doctor told
me as we left the Worldpress, “she founds newspapers,
runs them, and writes for them since the beginning of last century. On the
other hand, it comes naturally because, and I am not sure if I commit an
error, but I think that one of the first world newspapers created in 1702 in
London by a woman, Elizabeth Mallet, and the first in America was the Massachusetts Gazette and News Letter, which was
continued, after the death of its founder, by his widow, Margaret Craper.”
“From what I can gather, from having dealt with some US American writers, they are wonderfully fit for journalism.”
“It’s true. Ann Franklin published a newspaper in 1772.
She worked on its composition with her two daughters and the servants did the
printing work; she was thought to be so correct and wise that she was named
the colony’s printer. In the following year, Elizabeth Timothy founded a
newspaper in South Carolina and her sister, Ann, was the State’s printer for
16 years. Also, in the year 1773, there was a newspaper that achieved much
fame because it opposed the Stamp ActCharleston Gazette, also spelled Charlestown.
“And now I have seen many directed by women. One of the principal ones is Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly, interesting,
instructive, and entertaining.”
“The American woman is a special being and completely distinct from the Latin American woman.”
“I am in agreement, doctor; but what is best for domestic life?”
“Oh! I do not wish to injure sensibilities,” responded the doctor, laughing.
“That’s quite a different matter. You see,” he said in that moment, pointing to a young and properly-dressed man, carrying a boy in his arms. “You see: the husband carries the child and the woman is behind, looking in the shop windows; this is very telling. The US American woman, with a few exceptions, gives orders, exerts true dominion. In addition, she has great liberty of action, which would clash in Latin American countries.”
“Here,” I said, “the woman enjoys great prerogatives and delights in them to expand her future. In commerce, in offices, in the press, in universities– she has access and finds respect and consideration in all places.”
At this point, we arrived at Lenox House,, located on
the aristocratic Fifth Avenue; that is where I lived,
in an elegant French house of said name; there was a school in front: it was
precisely the end of the school day.
“Look, doctor,” I said, “at how many six-, seven-, eight-, and nine-year-old little girls walk out alone; each walks her own way and it is admirable that nothing happens to them. All the passers-by watch after them, and I have observed that many times, they hold their hands as they cross the street to avoid the danger posed by carriages; this is kindheartedness and good-will.”
“That is called protection of women; it is sovereign here. However,”
I did not wish to deepen the issue, and I reserved my impressions. In the
past, as much as in the present, the literary annals of US America have had
countless great female writers, poets, and novelists, and they have the
distinctive feature of being naturalists and reformers, rather than
idealists, ever since the last century and the beginning of this one. Sarah
Josepha Buell, that is, Mistress Hale, who was born in 1790, published a
book during the first third of the century about woman’s rights, which put
forth very advanced ideas. Miss Sedgwick’sThe Woman of the
American Revolution, Domestic History of the American Revolution,
Pioneer Women of the West, and various wide-ranged books.
Even more significant was the success obtained by the famous novel, Uncle Tom's Cabin, by Mistress Stowe Beecher,
There has been no lack of patriotic women in US America; take for example
Mistress Molly,
“That is flattery, sirs,” she responded. “My good George cannot forget my advice, despite all the praise.”
She was organized, active, and energetic; she watched over everything in the domestic sphere, and crossed the fields giving orders. When Washington, triumphant, presented himself before his mother, without accompaniment or pomp, she embraced him, and during the conversation, did not make a single allusion to his glory, but rather, to memories of his childhood. He never became vain; he never displayed signs of pride, and his simplicity was twice attractive as strict formality. Upon informing her that he had been named president of the Republic, she exclaimed:
“You will not see me again. My advanced age and the illness that afflicts me announce a near end. But go, my dear George, go and fulfill the high purpose that God seems to have called you to; that the grace of heaven may never abandon you; I give you my blessing.”
The hero cried, supporting the noble old woman with his shoulder. Shortly
afterward, she passed away. I have seen the portrait of Washington, with
that of his mother and that of his wife, Martha Custisthe Lady, because she was the model wife, who endured
the most difficult winters in the camps and was the angel of charity for the
soldier; a worthy companion for the US American commander.
I had a neighbor in New York, whom I observed more than once from my
balconies, hidden behind the window shades: Thomas Alva Edison. How many
times I saw him enter and leave and even conduct electrical experiments! I
had and have a positive admiration for that apostle of science and work,
American aristocracy: in the 13th and 14th centuries, they would have burned Edison as a sorcerer; at
least some like him went into the bonfire. Edison, who had an unhappy and
very needy childhood, is today a potentate and no one would recognize him as
having been the
NEAR HARPERS FERRY (UNITED STATES)
small child who sold candy and newspapers. At that time, he already felt the febrile appetite to invent, create, and rise to the summit of fame; he did not know how, but he was sure of climbing it, and he did climb it. Who does not know Edison? In whom does the great inventor not inspire amazement?
At that time, there was a Mexican guest in Lenox House; an exalted, illustrious, and wise patriot of great merits and clean history. Don Sebastián Lerdo de Tejada. I had contact with him there, although very little, because he lived isolated with his books and enveloped in his studies. He passed away not long afterward, and his homeland gave him an honorable tomb after great, prodigious honors were paid to his body.
It was snowing when I left New York for Washington, and the capital of the
United States also received me with a carpet of immaculate whiteness; but
the sun shone on the following day, and I began to traverse the pretty city
very early. There is not the same amount of movement here as in New York; it
is more serious and more aristocratic. The seat of the government is located
there and it is the residence of the diplomatic corps. My friend of many
years, Juan Valera, the author of Pepita Jiménez, which
was being translated into English at that time, worked there as minister of
Spain. With fine courtesy, the minister of Mexico had put me up in his
house; he was one of the longest-standing diplomats and a man who has been
of great service to his homeland. I saw the city with his wife, an erudite,
friendly, and beautiful US American woman. There are magnificent, new,
elegant, and varied houses on Pennsylvania Avenue. I made the most of those
two days: I saw the White House;
I chose a different rail line for my return to Mexico, the Baltimore (the
great maritime shipyard) and Ohio. The entire track was covered in snow and
the cold was excessive; but the furnaces maintained a pleasant temperature
in the train. The Potomac River recalls Fenimore Cooper and indigenous
customs; it also brings to mind that the states of Virginia and Maryland are
as industrious as they are rich. In the picturesque Harpers Ferry, I thought
about the abolitionist, John Brown, who was a victim of the humanitarian and
generous idea of 1859. The house, in which he attempted to be a redeemer for
the slaves, still stands.
Meanwhile, it continued to snow, and after passing Topeka, we found ourselves in a situation in which the train could not continue since the track was not clear. The worse part was that the dining car had been joined to the train that had just crossed ours. We saw hills of snow on both sides; a hotel stood out between the trees, but it was closed because it was only open during the summer.
“Countrywoman, we are besieged by the snow and by hunger,” a Basque man, who had arrived from Europe and was traveling to Mexico, told me.
The place was formidable, and they did not cease to build a wall on the sides with the snow they removed from the tracks. In the afternoon on the second day, we resumed our course.
“It was about time,” my fellow countryman told me, “because the scarce provisions were running out.”
“As well as patience, especially yours, as someone in love,” I said smiling. He was returning from Paris to marry in Puebla.
Nothing interrupted our trip to El Paso del Norte;
Five months later, I returned to the United States on my way to Europe, and, what a coincidence: my fellow countryman and traveler from the previous trip was a fellow traveler once again; but this time he was accompanied by a graceful, lively, and good young lady. She was his wife. The newlyweds were on their way to Paris, and from there, Spain, for their honeymoon.
Aboard the French steamer, the Brittany , I abandoned
the American beaches and– why not confess it? – I watched them disappear
with profound sadness and a sweet and eloquent farewell, rose to my lips from the depths of my soul, full of hopes
and memories.
Farewell, I told the fathomless abysses; the rugged mountain ranges; the unrivaled flower gardens; the extremely high summits that surround an eternal crown of snow; the torrents and waterfalls; the immense, deep, overflowing rivers; and so many caring and enthusiastic friends, whose memory will stay with me until my soul abandons its earthly prison to soar to the regions of infinity.