| Author(s) | Friedrich Engels |
|---|---|
| Written | 5 September 1888 |
The letter was written on hotel notepaper with a picture of the Niagara Falls and the address: Spencer House, Niagara Falls, N.Y.
TO LAURA LAFARGUE AT LE PERREUX
Niagara Falls, N . Y.,
5 September 1888
M y dear Laura,
Here we are since last Sunday[1] morning, after having spent a week in New York and another in Boston. Don't you believe that America is a new country—it is the most old-fashioned place in the world; vis-à-vis de nous autres Européens c'est tout simplement la province, et nous nous sommes tous Parisiens comparés aux Américains.[2] The American girls on the Steamer already struck me as having all the manners of the Unschuld vom Lande[3] the furniture is in the style of country house furniture of the ancien régime[4] in Boston the cabs are of a shape which I saw last in London in 1838,[5] and upon this primitive state of things they have grafted a lot of supra-modern novelties many of which are no improvements and none of which are beautiful. They say they are the most goahead nation and that is true in this sense, that an American cannot bear the idea of anyone walking in front of him in the street, he must push and brush past him—roughly too, even in Boston which is their Athens—and women as well as men shove you about in that way, and sure when we poor benighted Europeans cannot see the slightest occasion either for the hurry or the rudeness.
But for all that they have very very grand features and the making of a very great nation in them, such as are only to be found in a people which never knew feudalism. They are long-suffering as to grievances of their own making, like all Anglo-Saxons, but when they do a thing they do it thoroughly. The way in which the State of New York bought up all the grounds (on the American side) about the falls,[6] turned out all the touts, hucksters and extortionists, and transformed the whole into a public park where you go about freely and unmolested, not a policeman or park-keeper to be seen, on good footpaths and safe stairs quite up to the edge of the falls—that is a thing you do not find anywhere in such places in Europe. And the simple fact of the Americans having done this compelled the Canadian government to do the same on their side, in order to attract the visitors who ran away from Canadian exploitation.
New York is the grandest site for the capital of Capitalist Production you can see. But everything there, made by man, is horrid—save Bartholdy's Statue of Liberty which is not only fine but in exact proportion—as to size—to the surroundings. We got into New York after dark and I thought I got into a chapter of Dante's Inferno. London is a fool to it as to noise, crowd, pushing—a pavement worse than in the sunkenest European village—elevated railways thundering over your head, tram-cars by the hundred with rattling bells, awful noises on all sides, the most horrible of which are the unearthly fog-horns which give the signals from all the steamers on the river (the whistle is unknown here)— naked electric arc-lights over every ship, not to light you but to attract you as an advertisement, and consequently blinding you and confusing everything before you—in short a town worthy to be inhabited by the most vile-looking crowd in the world, they all look like discharged croupiers from Monte Carlo.
Niagara is very fine. The falls are only the crowning feature. I like the rapids above and below, the beautiful little islands crowded with trees above the falls, and the fine winding gorge below, even better than the 'grand' feature.
We go from here into Canada, down the St Lawrence to Montréal, thence back to the States, via Lake Champlain and Lake George, then per Steamer down the Hudson to New York and sail per City of New York any time about 18th, hoping to be back in London about 28 or 29th at latest.
The little Steamer on the photo is the Maid of the Mist and goes quite close up to the falls (they lend you waterproof coats and helmets for the occasion) and yesterday we went quite into the mouth of the Horseshoe falls (the one facing you).
We are all very well and jolly, Edward conducts and commands, and we have appointed him General Boulanger of the port, which post he fills most creditably. As to European politics we are quite out of reach of everything. So now I close. Kind regards to Paul.
Ever yours
F. Engels
Postscripts by Engels' companions
My dear Laura, the General leaves the rest of us only room to send our loves. And it's a poor thing too. For what with Niagara Falls and Niagara Beer we are most of us beyond the writing stage. When I pull myself together I'll write.
Yours
Tussy
Dearest Laura, I shall not forget the 26th and send you your birthday letter with best love. C. S.[7]