March 1830
James Stuart (1775–1849) successfully participated in Scottish Whig political affairs as a lawyer, justice of the peace, officer in the Fifeshire yeomanry, and functionary in several minor posts. Stuart was involved in a number of altercations in the press, in court, and in the street. He killed Sir Alexander Boswell in a duel; although tried, he was acquitted. Nevertheless, his political career suffered. Consequently, Stuart toured the United States for three years, and subsequently published his accounts to popular acclaim. His accounts, however, are as much from his reading as from his personal observation. Although he is positive towards the United States, he is critical of slavery and concludes that the hardships of travel in the South render the experience not worth the effort.
James Stuart, Three Years in North America, 3 vols. (Edinburgh: Robert Cadell, 1833), II: 203–209.
We reached Montgomery, the capital of Alabama,[1] in the evening; but the circuit being here, it was very difficult to find accommodations at either of the hotels. The landlord of the hotel where we stopped smiled, when I asked if I could have a separate bed-room. As soon, therefore, as I had my portmanteau deposited in a place of security, I sallied forth, under the guidance of one of the waiters, with a view to find out a lodging. I was told that Major Johnson, a Scottish gentleman, who is well known in the United States, on account of the exertions he made to save part of the Archives at Washington, on occasion of the British incursion, resided in the suburbs, and was always glad to see his countrymen. It turned out, unluckily, when I went to his house, that neither he nor any of his family were at home. I called at two or three other places which were pointed out to me, but had no better success, and returned to the hotel without attaining my object. The bar-keeper, however, after some talk, took pity on me, and told me he would put me in a double-bedded room, into which he should take care that no one should have right from him to enter; but that I must keep the door bolted, to prevent any one from coming into the room and taking possession, when he found only one of the beds occupied. I need not say that I obeyed orders; but I had not observed that there were two doors in the room to be secured, and only secured one. About the end of my first sleep, I was awoke by the noise of an intruder in the room. He brought no light with him. I started out of bed, and called, “Who’s there?” He answered, “I’m, I’m Tomie Collins.” Whoever you are, I replied, you must get out of the room,—both beds are taken. I hurried him out of the room without a moment’s delay. I found the door at which he had entered, and had it bolted immediately. When I rose very early next morning, I discovered that the door of the hotel had not only not been locked, but had been standing open all night. I see in the newspapers, which I have got, published here, that boarding and lodging may be had by the year, in the best hotels in the neighbourhood, for 100 dollars.
On the following morning, I started by the stage for Mobile, on the Gulf of Mexico. There is steam-navigation from Montgomery to Mobile by the Alabama River; but the steam-vessels are more for the conveyance of cotton than of passengers; and the distance by the river, about 400 miles, is more than twice as long as by land. I had only one fellow-traveller in the stage, Captain Wade. He was acquainted with the country; but I believe he, as well as I, thought the driver had got us into a scrape, by preferring the ford to the bridge over the river, on our way to the south of Montgomery. We were all but swamped. The water got into the carriage; but the American drivers, thought very fond of sailing close by the wind, never run any hazard, as far as I have seen, without being sure that they will be able to extricate themselves. On the road near the river, we met an immense waggon load of whisky proceeding to Montgomery. The driver stopped and saluted; and the driver of the whisky allowed our driver to take as much of it from a great greybeard as he chose. He had also the courtesy to offer to the inside passengers as much of the liquor as we liked. But, while we acknowledged his kindness, neither of us had any disposition, so early in the morning, to hob and nob with him.
Not long after leaving the river, the stage passed through the first prairie land that I have seen, consisting of large undulating pastures, which never seem to have been covered with wood; on the skirts of which are fine forest trees, and frequently dropping trees, and clumps of wood adorning the plains.
Before I saw the prairie land, I was impressed with the notion that the prairies were great arid plains, almost entirely level; but the first prairie I now passed convinced me of my mistake, as it consisted of waving ground, necessarily of good soil, from the beautiful sward of grass rising from it. This is the character of a great part of the prairie land; but there are some entirely level plains in Louisiana. The great prairie land of America bears, as remarked by Darby, a close resemblance in geographical position, and in characteristic marks, to the Steppes of Asia. The inhabitants, too, of each of those districts have been free, as the plains over which they roam, knowing no luxury beyond the chace, nor any pursuit beyond their herds and their fields.
I can hardly trust myself to describe the prairie lands of this and the western states, where I afterwards was. The variety of their beauty is such, and their style and appearance altogether approaches so much to the English park, after it has been adorned at great cost, and with all the taste which generations of proprietors have possessed, that it is much safer for me to give the statements of Mr. Flint, who has seen more of the country than I have done, than to attempt to give any idea of their magnificence myself, under the very vivid impressions they have made on me of their extraordinary beauty. The name prairie is French, denoting a meadow.
“The first view of a prairie will probably excite more surprise in the mind of a traveller in the United States than the grandest objects of nature. Riding day after day through forests, in which the cleared land is not of sufficient extent to interrupt the general aspect of wood, he breaks at once upon the view of a fine open country,—he beholds extensive plains of the most soft and beautiful verdure, covered with flowers of every scent and hue. Occasionally on the prairie, and often in their centre, are clumps of fine trees, especially of the oak and black walnut, so charmingly disposed, that the traveller can hardly believe that they have not been placed by the hand of man. The views of tracts of country of this description are in many places far more extensive than are to be met with in any country, where land has been laid out in this way artificially, with a view to its beauty, and to increase its value to its possessor. The prospect from the high grounds that often surround the prairies, comprehending verdant lawns, large forests, through which vast rivers are rolling their mighty masses of water, and fine hills in the distance, with cottages, cattle, horses, and deer, is altogether as fine as can be conceived anywhere.”
The grass of the prairies is tall and rather coarse, but in the early stages of its growth, it furnishes succulent and rich food for cattle; and if it was cut in that state, or a little afterwards, it would make excellent winter fodder; but as the summer advances, the grass becomes tough, and of course, when cut in that state, it does not become so nourishing food for the winter. In many parts of the country the number of cattle is so small, in proportion to the quantity of herbage, that much of the grass remains neither depastured nor cut; and it is a common practice to set fire to the dry grass which is in this state in the spring, in order to prevent the rotting of the roots. The alluvial prairies are generally to be found on the margins of the rivers, and they are of a deep pliable soil of extraordinary fertility.
During the months of vegetation, no adequate idea can be formed of the number, form, varieties, and hues of the flowering plants and shrubs of the prairies. In spring, the prevalent colour of the prairie flowers is bluish-purple; in midsummer, red, with a considerable proportion of yellow; and in autumn, the flowers are very large, and so many of them of the helianthus form, that the prairie receives from them quite a splendid covering of yellow.
In many of the extensive prairies in Louisiana and elsewhere, there are what are called islands of wooded land. They generally have an appearance of such beauty, and are so well placed, that a stranger is with difficulty convinced that they are not clumps of trees planted out in circular, square, or triangular forms, for the beauty of their appearance. It is impossible to convey to one who has not seen it any idea of the effect produced by one of these circular clumps of trees, rising like a tower from the smooth surface of a verdant plain. Wherever a streamlet crosses the prairie, it is marked with a fringe of trees, which very much increases the variety of the scenery.
There are few roads yet made in the prairie land, but, as the prairies are only to be found in the warm climates of the south and the west, where the soil is seldom wet for any long period, the tracts of road are almost at all times good, except in the low lands, or swamps by the river sides. Indeed, in many parts of the dry prairies where I travelled, the roads were as smooth as those which are generally to be found formed covered with small broken stones and gravel in an English park, and had very much the same appearance.
After a charming drive we arrived, with a keen appetite for breakfast, at a small cabin kept by a person of the name of Bonum.
[1] Stuart was incorrect. At the time of his visit in 1830, Tuscaloosa was the state’s capital. It had moved from Cahaba in 1826, and would not be moved to Montgomery until 1845.