Joseph Story: Letter to Samuel P. P. Fay as “Matthew Bramble”

My dear Matthew Bramble:

Take down the Miseries of Human Life, and look at the pages of that groaning work for the articles respecting travelling. If you have there learned to commiserate the wretch who is soused into a horsepond or bespattered with mud, I pray you to reserve that compassion for me. Between Philadelphia and Baltimore, one hundred miles, and between Baltimore and Washington, forty miles, are as execrable roads as can be found in Christendom. You would hardly believe yourself in a Christian country, unless every now and then in the intervals of a tremendous jolt you should indulge your fancy. Take my word for it, I am reduced to a mere jelly. No unfortunate wight pounded in a mortar has a less bony claim to consistency. The weather, however, has been delightful, and this with the very pleasant company which I have met at Baltimore, has quite reconciled me to my fate. God help all faint-hearted travellers, for surely they cannot help themselves.

I am now at the seat of government. The capitol is within a stone’s throw of me; and the President’s house rises in the distance. The capitol is yet unfinished, and the wings only are yet erected. The structure is of freestone, dug from the Potomac, and being strongly impregnated with iron ore, when exposed to the rain its uniformity is tarnished by an ochry appearance. The design appears to be, if not very magnificent, at least very elegant. Between every window pilasters rise in the Corinthian style. The height is three stories, and when the centre is completed the effect will certainly be striking. As I am no architect, it is impossible for me to give any correct detail of the disposition of the internal area. Indeed, as my curiosity rather respects men than things, you would receive a sleepy narrative from a very sleepy pen.

Though Washington is surrounded on all sides by a barren country, yet its local situation is certainly good. It stretches along the northern bank of the very beautiful Potomac, and from an uniform level at the bank, gradually rises into small and gentle elevations. Judging by my eye, and with the beauty which a verdant covering gives it, I confess very few plots of ground are so well adapted for municipal purposes. A million of inhabitants might be enclosed with comfort, within a few miles, and might enjoy a fresh air and lively prospect. It is not, however, as you must have frequently heard, accounted healthy. Whether this be the result of peculiarity of climate, or local causes, is not for me to determine. If you expect to find a considerable town here, you would be greatly disappointed. Brick houses are thinly scattered on the capitol hill; and at the distance of about a mile, a considerable village surrounds the President’s house. Every thing is new, and of course incomplete. Slowly and silently the infant city rises, and seems to demand a century of years before it can become a numerous metropolis. Unfortunately, commerce has not fixed here her abode, and despotism cannot draw its millions to the spot. St. Petersburg might be dragged from the fens of the Baltic by a Czar, but among a free people the tide of population follows the mart of commerce more than the residence of power. You perceive, that with the common fault of travellers, I am already deciding by a first impression, without caring to investigate facts. It is so much easier to loll in one’s elbow chair, and decide by speculation, than drudge through matters of fact, that every man consults his comfort by approving or condemning in the mass. How unfortunate would it be to live in suspense, and at every turn to encounter some stubborn truth, that would overset all our opinions.

I will not write a word more on this subject. It is absolutely like Uncle Toby’s Siege of Dendermond. The hobby suits me so well, that I cannot resist an eternal inclination to ride. … May I reach Brambleton Hall in safety, and enjoy all my whims, dear Matthew, and as ever be,

Thine,

JER. MELFORD.