# The Homes of the New World/Letter XXXIX.

LETTER XXXIX.
Richmond, June 16th.
Good morning, my beloved child, on this beautiful morning in the chief city of Virginia. I have just returned from a ramble in the park round the capital, from which I have seen the beautiful river, St. James, in the Indian tongue, Powkaton, with its foaming fall, and its calm water, bright as silver, winding on their way through verdant plains, and hills far, far away, into the country. A glorious view from this magnificent capital. I wished that the intellectual and moral view from the States' seat of government corresponded with it. But Virginia is a Slave State, and its views open, and its river of life flows, as in all other Slave States, for one half of its population only. We are reminded of this the moment we reach the gate of the park of the capital; for on the pillars of the gate is placed the announcement in large letters, declaring that any slave who ventures within these gates shall be liable to a punishment of thirty-nine lashes! One cannot enjoy or admire anything in the Slave States, without having one's pleasure disturbed by these lashes!
But in a material respect, how well watered is North America! Throughout all its states flow these beautiful navigable rivers, which, like great arteries, receive into themselves innumerable lesser streams and brooks, and convey to all places the life and the fruits of civilisation! I cannot contemplate these beautiful rivers without the hope that they will prepare the way for the noblest of all.
I parted from my kind Mrs. W. H., who had become ​as dear to me as a sister, and from her family with a pang which I endeavoured to stifle, because parting is inevitable.
It was in the afternoon of the 12th of June that I left Charleston and South Carolina, where I had enjoyed so much kindness. The sea was rough, and the vessel so crowded with passengers that I regretted in silence that my wish to be with Mrs. H. had caused me to select this vessel, and not rather to have delayed my journey a couple of days longer. I feared now to incommode others, and to be incommoded myself. But Mrs. H— became my comfort and my help. As she was acquainted with the negro-woman who waited in the ladies' saloon, she induced the old woman to make us up two beds on the soft sofas near the window, because all the cabins in the vessel were occupied, and by this means we escaped the heat of the cabins and enjoyed during the night fresh air from the saloon window.
As night approached the sea became rougher, and the clouds assumed a more stormy aspect; the air was oppressively hot, the passage was one of danger, and the vessel had not the best reputation.
But I consoled myself with thinking, “when the moon rises!” For I have an inborn faith in the moon as my friend. She attracted my glance to her when I was but a child, and before I could say any other word, before I could say father or mother, I said “Moon!” My first verses were dedicated to the Moon. They were poor enough; but the celestial presence which I saluted as the consoler of the fortunate and the unfortunate, has been in her turn equally propitious to me, and never yet during my sea voyages, has she failed with her rising to dissipate the clouds, and to calm the restless winds and waves. I have always, therefore, endeavoured to arrange my voyages that they should be during moonlight nights, and I had accordingly so arranged my present voyage, for the ​pleasure of which I had to thank both Mrs. H. and the Moon. Neither of them deceived me.
Mrs. H. was somewhat sea-sick, but was still amid the throng of the steam-boat the same amiable, perfect lady, as in the drawing-room and the myrtle groves of Belmont; and the moon was, as soon as she arose on the sea, the same amiable planet, as she had formerly shown herself to me. The clouds, it is true, did not vanish, but they stood, as it were still, or withdrew in picturesque groups. The waves, it is true, still heaved, but not tempestuously; it lightened incessantly and splendidly amid the clouds, but there was no thunder. It was as if the severe countenance of the moon had stayed the tumult of the elements. I gazed at the moon and enjoyed that grand, excited, but not stormy, life in the heavens, and on the sea amid the shadows of night.
The following day we went on shore, and proceeded by railroad through North Carolina, which seemed to be one continued stretch of pine-wood, with some open spaces for the cultivation of cotton and maize, a flat, uniform, and poor country, except as regards the sap of the pine forests, whence the State derives its popular name, “Old Tar and Turpentine.” The north-western portions of the State are hilly, and are possessed of much natural beauty. Mrs. H. told me that “Old Tar and Turpentine” was not renowned for anything excepting for its politeness and simple manners. When other states in the Union refused to pay the debt to England which they had agreed to pay together (some loan affair, which was unsuccessful), “Old Tar and Turpentine” set them an example of punctuality and integrity, and paid its quota of the debt without any ado. North Carolina has been, although a Slave State, one of the principal abodes of the Quaker sect in America, and has always been celebrated for its patriarchal life and manners.
Two places at which we stopped by the way were in ​the pine forest, and this was, as is usual in the Southern States, rich in many varieties of trees. I counted above fourteen in one of the forest woods.
Mrs. H. was to me on this journey as she always is, a fountain of refreshment and delight. I have never met with any one, either man or woman, who possessed in so high a degree the power of calling others out in conversation. We accompany each other like two birds flying up and down, between heaven and earth, from star to star, from land to land, from tree to tree, from flower to flower. I learn much from her. She spends with her husband, the esteemed naturalist, Holbrook, her sister, Miss L., and her handsome old mother, a beautiful life, rich in domestic affection.
Towards the evening of this day we reached the little village of Weldon, on the boundaries between North Carolina and Virginia, and where the wild, foaming river, Roanoke, rolls along its waves, dividing the two States.
I went down to the falls in the evening twilight, and saw them foaming and rushing along. The fire-flies danced glimmering under the gloomy arch of the trees. Nature was here romantic, wild, and beautiful, and the whole district was as desolate and silent as if no human beings were to be found there.
We passed a comfortable night at the hotel, and although I was suffering from headache, yet to my joy, I was well enough to proceed on my journey the next day, by a slow accommodation railway-train, which conveyed us very easily and excellently through the fields of Virginia, to Richmond, the capital of the State, and which contains thirty thousand inhabitants, half of whom are blacks. Its situation is romantic, among hills and valleys, on the banks of the River St. James. And there am I now. I was obliged to take leave of my travelling companions last evening, as they continued their journey early this morning to Saratoga, whither ​they are going, for the benefit of the water and the baths. Later in the summer, I also intend to go thither myself, not to drink the medicinal waters, but to witness that scene of American social life, which I am informed presents its worst side; fashionable immorality and want of principle in their gala dress.
Later.—Usch! such a sermon! Just the sermon,—if such were the only means of divine knowledge, to make people either atheists or numskulls. It made me impatient and angry. The young preacher emptied with great self-complacency the vials of wrath, full of threatenings and penal judgments, into the contents of his Calvinistic sermon of wrath against the sinners who—were nowhere in the church, if I could judge from appearance. The church was thinly attended, and many people slept. A couple of very well fed, and well dressed elderly gentlemen, who sate on a bench before me, took out their watches every now and then to see how the time went on, if it were near dinner-time, I presume
they were apparently not thinking about the last judgment, although the young preacher was thundering about it, and its advance upon a godless generation. True it is that the young preacher of condemnation dealt so much with abstract ideas and barren phraseology, that none of his descriptions of sin seemed to touch the heads of the people who sate on the benches. But I have heard more preachers beside this one, who preach to an audience, which evidently is not within the church.
I shall remain here for two days, and then pay a visit to our countryman, Professor Sheele de Vere, in Charlotte's Ville, the university of Virginia, after which I shall return hither for a time.
June 18th.—I have, both yesterday and to-day, received a great number of visits, and ditto invitations. Among the latter, was one to a country-home near the city, which I immediately accepted for my return from Charlotte's Ville, ​so greatly was I pleased with the persons who gave it, a Mrs. Van L., a widow and her daughter; intellect, kindness, and refinement of feeling, were evident in their gentle countenances. The daughter, a pleasing, pale blonde, expressed so much compassion for the sufferings of the slave that I was immediately attracted to her.
She drove me out yesterday to see the lovely environs of Richmond; the large parklike church-yard, with its hills and dales, was among these. The whole country around Richmond is undulating, and everywhere is the River St. James a remarkable and refreshing feature in this landscape, through which it flows in manifold sinuosities. Although it is so near midsummer it is cold, and I was really starved in the open carriage, and the air felt keen and ungenial.
We next drove to a large tobacco manufactory, as I wish to see one of the works in which this staple of Virginia was prepared. Here I heard the slaves, about a hundred in number, singing at their work in large rooms; they sung quartettes, chorusses, and anthems, and that so purely, and in such perfect harmony and with such exquisite feeling, that it was difficult to believe them self-taught. But so they were. God has given these poor creatures the gift of song for their consolation in the time of their probation. And their life in the tobacco manufactory is no life of Canaan. One part of their work, the rolling of the tobacco-leaf, in which they were at this moment employed, appears easy enough; but the packing of it in solid masses, by means of screw-machinery which is turned by the hand and the chest, is so laborious that it not unfrequently produces diseases of the lungs, and costs the labourer his health and life. I suppose they become accustomed to the smell and the dirt which always prevails in a tobacco manufactory, and which to me seems murderous, as they are employed in it from their very childhood. As the work in the manufactory ceases, and ​the work people are released for the rest of the day after six o'clock in the evening, and as that hour now approached, the beautiful song of the slaves, “Hallelujah, Amen!” did not sound like a burlesque; neither, however, did it sound cheerful, nor yet did the singers look cheerful. Good Miss Van L. could not refrain from weeping. The slaves were all Baptists, and sung only hymns. The gay, sunny negro songs are only heard here in the slave-selling houses, or the so-called negro jails. If these slaves had only any future, any thing to hope for, to strive for, to live for, any prospect before them—then I should not deplore their lot—but nothing, nothing!!! The extreme few who are released by the work of colonisation cannot be taken into consideration in comparison with the mass who have no hope at all!——
I received, on leaving the manufactory, as a present from the proprietor (a stout, good kind of gentleman), guess what?—a large cake of chewing tobacco! The present was so characteristic both of the fabric and of Virginia, that I accepted it with great pleasure; and besides, it is of a very fine quality. I kept it, however, as far from my nose as possible on my drive home, but I know, nevertheless, mouths in Sweden that would set a high value on it.
In the evening I was invited to a large party, at which a thousand people, the élite of the society of Richmond, were to be present.
“He is the severest slave-owner in the whole neighbourhood. One can tell his slaves when one meets them on the high road from their half-famished appearance!”
“Yes, he is a bad man, but he is very rich.”
It was thus that I heard two people of my acquaintance, themselves slave-owners, talking to each other last evening.
“Who is so bad and so rich at the same time?” inquired I.
“That very gentleman, Mr. ——, to whose house you ​are invited to-morrow evening to the large party,” was the reply.
I inquired still farther from other persons, and found that these facts were universally acknowledged.
“And yet his house is frequented by the best society of the city?” said I, astonished; “and yet you maintain that public opinion protects the slave and punishes the bad master.”
“But then, Mr. ——'s wife and daughters are so good and so amiable," argued they, “it is for their sake that people associate with Mr. ——.”
But I suspect, in reality, that Mr. ——'s wealth has as much to do with their overlooking his offence as the goodness of his wife and daughter.
I returned my thanks for the invitation, but declined it.
In order for this much-praised public opinion to make a decided demonstration against the rich slave-owner, it is necessary that something very horrible and flagrant should be committed by him which cannot be concealed. An instance of this kind has lately occurred in Virginia. A rich planter, not far from here, killed one of his house-slaves, one of his most confidential servants, by the most barbarous treatment, and that merely on suspicion. The fact was so horrible that it aroused the public indignation, and the murderer was brought before the Court of Justice.
I have heard slave-owners say, “If justice had been done, that man would have been hanged!” But he was rich; and on the sacrifice of a considerable amount of his property to the learned in the law, both the affair and the law were turned and twisted, and the sentence which has just been pronounced adjudges to the murderer five years' imprisonment in the House of Correction. Many right-minded people have declared it to be shameful, but the conscience of the Slave State is enslaved.
An old free negro woman has just been sentenced to the same punishment because she endeavoured to assist a ​young female slave to escape to the Free States. The Governor rejected the petition, which prayed for mercy in her case, on the plea “of the state of feeling between the Free and the Slave States at the present time.”
Mammon and the fear of man!
I have to-day been present at a sitting of the Great Convention in the Capitol, which has met there for the reconstruction, or rather extension, of the States Constitution. I had on this occasion the pleasure of seeing many well-formed heads and foreheads, and manly vigorous forms among the one hundred and thirty legislators here assembled, and shook the friendly hands of divers of them. But a bill regarding general education was ordered to be laid on the table for some future time, without exciting much attention. The assembly occupied itself principally with the questions regarding an increase of judges in the country in accordance with the increased population. The purport of this Convention was similar to that in Ohio, and was designed to place greater power than formerly in the hands of the people, by giving them a participation in the election of judges and other State's officials, which formerly lay more immediately in the hands of the legislative power of the State. It delighted me to see America progress in its democratic tendencies, faithful to its fundamental principles. For if the new steps which are now taken in this direction do not produce an immediate advantage, still they have done much for the great popular education of a conscious public existence which is hereby asserted.
In the large rotunda-like entrance to the Capitol stands a statue of Washington, executed by the French sculptor Houdon. I do not know when I have seen a nobler work of art, or one which more perfectly represented the ideal human being in the every-day reality. It is Washington, the President, with the large chin, the ​somewhat stiff figure in the old-fashioned costume; and yet it is, at the same time, the type of the man of the New World, with that noble self-conscious, well-balanced mind which the Americans talk about, as the highest excellence, in harmony with itself, certain of its own course and its own object, resolute in persevering to the end, asking advice from no one but the Divine Councillor. He has bound his sword to the column, and now stands by the plough, resting calmly with himself, without pride, but without hesitation or doubt; the grand, intellectual glance looking out into the future! In truth it is a glorious figure, a glorious statue, to which I shall gladly return when I return hither.
But I now leave the city for Charlotte's Ville.
Charlotte's Ville, June 20th.
I am at the beautiful home of Professor Sheele de V. The Professor, since he was last in Sweden, has married the most charming wife, both pretty and good, and both he and she received me in the kindest manner.
I find myself here in a lovely mountain district, and within sight of what is called “The Blue Ridge,” which is the boundary of the great Virginian valley which lies between this range of hill, and the so-called “North Mountain Ridge,” both portions of the Alleghany range. Around the University, which was built by the late President Jefferson, in a magnificent and regular style, lies a region of alternate hills and valleys, like a green carpet, bordered with lovely country-houses and small farms, a beautiful, fertile landscape, in which nothing is wanting but water. Foremost among these elegant villas, stands upon a lofty hill Jefferson's summer-delight “Monticello,” with its splendid trees, and an extensive view over the country, and the University, whose founder he was. I visited this place yesterday with my new friends. The ​house, now unoccupied, is very much neglected and is evidently falling to decay. The internal decoration indicated a man who was not very much attached to republican simplicity in his own person. One saloon with an inlaid floor was a magnificent room. But I seemed to miss on all sides the appearance of comfort, the appearance of a light and pleasant home.
Jefferson was the friend of Thomas Payne, and like him, was an Atheist, and his habits testified of a man of lax morality. His portraits and bust present the physiognomy of a man of an energetic but disquiet life; they express a combative character, obstinate, and extremely irritable if opposed; for the rest, active, cheerful, and communicative. The forehead is broad rather than lofty. There is none of Washington's calmness and nobility. Jefferson loved his country and guided its efforts for freedom to its outbreak in that grand act, the Declaration of Independence, which was the product of the spirit of the time and the people, rather than of his brain and pen.
From Monticello I saw the sun descend in beauty as it released itself from obscuring clouds; a sunset more like Washington's than Jefferson's evening of life.
Wandering in the park I noticed that extremely delicious odour which filled the air, and which I have often perceived in America. I was told that it proceeded from the blossom of the wild vine, which grows luxuriantly here, as it does throughout the whole of the North American States. Nowhere so much as here does the prophecy seem to be fulfilled, of every man sitting under his own vine or fig-tree, and no one making him afraid.
Later in the evening I saw a considerable number of the teachers of the University and their wives, among whom were some very agreeable. The President, Mr. Harrison, with his beautiful meditative eyes, and a quiet excellent manner, pleased me particularly. This University is celebrated for the solidity of the learning which it ​communicates, and the severity of its requirements as regards its students. Young men, therefore, who have obtained diplomas at the University may be sure of situations and official appointments when they leave it. There is here a separate establishment which affords indigent youths of good character, and who have the desire to learn, the opportunity of maintaining themselves at the academy free of cost.
When Jefferson founded the academy he excluded from it any ecclesiastical establishment or clergy. Neither one nor the other found a place in his seat of learning. But so clear among this people is the conviction that social life requires religious life, and that the religious teacher must have his place in the community, that soon after Jefferson's death a room in one of the buildings of the University was fitted up for a place of worship, and the heads of the University agreed in summoning thither ministers of various religious persuasions, who should alternately perform divine service and give religious instruction, by which means the principal sects of the United States, Episcopalian, Calvinist, Methodist, and many others, might here be represented, so that none should have cause to complain of illiberal exclusion, and that the young students might have an opportunity of hearing all doctrines preached. The official period for each minister who is thus called to the academy is fixed to two years. The minister who is now the University preacher belongs to the Episcopalian church. This excellent arrangement is so acceptable to the youthful students, that although their participation in divine service, as well as the fees to the spiritual teacher, are left entirely to their own choice, yet they very rarely neglect the former—never morning and evening prayer—neither do they disregard the latter.
The room which is devoted to these religious services is in the highest degree unostentatious, and is low, as if it were afraid of raising itself too much, lest it should be ​observed by the spirit from Monticello: it seems afraid of something.
I intend remaining at Charlotte's Ville over the approaching examination and distribution of prizes, that I may see something more of the young sons of Virginia and the flower of its beauty, which is expected to be here on this occasion. I shall in the meantime make an excursion across the Blue Mountains, into Virginia Valley, and then visit a celebrated grotto, called Weiher's Cave, after its discoverer. Perhaps I may extend my flight still farther west into the hilly regions of Virginia, to see the natural bridge, and various other natural curiosities, which are very celebrated. My kind host and countryman, Professor de V., is a good friend and adviser. I set off from here in the afternoon by the diligence, under the escort of a fine old gentleman, both learned and good.
Charlotte's Ville, June 26th.
I am just returned from my ramble across the Blue Mountains, but not in the diligence. I found that to be so thronged, and so hot, that I merely got in to hurry out again; let it drive on, and then, with the help of my kind host, hired a private carriage with two horses, and a negro as driver; and now, my little heart, you must see me sitting there all alone, free and light as the bird on the bough, and very happy thus, in solitude and unimpeded, to travel through the grand, romantic scenery. And my negro Davis is the best, most cheerful negro in the world, drives well, knows every place we pass, is careful of his horses, and is careful of me. We did not this day get any further than the foot of the Blue Ridge, where we took up our quarters for the night.
The next morning, the 24th, I set out at sunrise to ascend the Blue Mountains, going the greater part of the way on foot, that I might the better witness that glorious spectacle of the sunrise over the stretches of valley of east ​and west Virginia on each side of the Blue Mountain Ridge. It was a beautiful, bright, but cold morning in the fresh mountain air. The road was good, and rich masses of beautiful wood bounded its ascent up the mountain. My good negro followed me on foot, pointing out to me Albemarle and Nelson counties, and enjoying with unmistakeable pleasure the grand, beautiful views, in which water merely was wanting.
Arrived at the summit of the Blue Ridge, I beheld rising before me, another similar lofty, blue mountain ridge, in a parallel direction to this,—this was North Mountain Ridge. Between these two mountain ridges stretches itself Virginia Valley, east and west, a vast, fertile landscape, adorned with small, well-built farm-houses, cultivated fields and pasture-land; a quiet, blooming country, from the excellent homes of which one would think that the Lord's Prayer must naturally arise, because all is pastoral, lovely and peaceful; no proud mansions, no poor cottages; the lot of all seems to be alike good, and the house of God alone stands forth pre-eminently in the assembly.
We drove down into the valley, and I reached at noon the celebrated grotto, which is situated in a mountain on the banks of the lively river Schenandoah. Near to it is an hotel for strangers, whom the landlord, a stout, jolly man, conducts to the grotto. I was the only visitor there, and thus had the grotto all to myself. The landlord and Davis attended me with torches, and kindled fires here and there in the grotto.
The grotto is entered by a very small door on the mountain side, and some of its passages are narrow and difficult enough to creep through, but for this the stranger is rewarded by the sight of magnificent rocky halls and astonishing figures. It required about two hours to pass through the most remarkable portions of the grotto. The stalactite figures were similar to those which I had seen in ​the grottoes of Cuba, but certain forms occurred here more frequently. Among these were in particular fluted columns, organ-pipes, towers, cascades, as of frozen, foaming water; shields were reared against walls, which were hung with spears, immense depending draperies, often in the most soft and plastic folds, upon which if one struck with a stick a loud clanging tone was returned, which resounded through the subterranean vaults. There were alcoves, in which were standing solitary figures resembling human masks; and between these figures, along the rock-walls, a confusion of fantastic forms of animals, flowers, wings, which seemed ready to fly away from the walls, cities which stood forth in bold relief, with streets, and squares, and towers, and everything which an active imagination could conceive. There is one crypt, in which the whole natural world is represented in stone masks—the dark dream of a mountain king about the life of the world of light, for even sun and moon are there represented by large round white dials shining forth from the deep, dusky vault. There are large halls, in the centre of which stand two or three solitary stone images, always in the semblance of man. Here are warriors about to draw the sword, there a philosopher deep in meditation, or a woman with a child wrapped in the folds of her robe; throughout the whole it is a mysterious world, where life seems petrified in the midst of its presentment. A clear little fountain, the musical dropping of whose water is heard at a considerable distance, furnishes a cool draught. But it was so very cool in that subterranean world, and I felt so ill there, both body and soul, that I was glad to leave it and inhale God's warm air and sunshine.
It was an unimaginably beautiful evening, and the whole region was like the most lovely pastoral poem. I enjoyed it, as I rambled alone beside the lively little, roaring, dancing, river Schenandoah, and up among ​the fragrant fields, where the hay lay out in swathes, and where they were just beginning to cut the corn. The golden ears fell before large scythes, furnished with a sort of upper-story of wooden spikes, which threw the corn aside in sheaves. It looked heavy work, but it succeeded perfectly. Men only, and no women, were at work in the fields. The men perform, in this country, all the out-of-doors labour, even milk the cows. The women stay at home—the white women, I mean, for the black are not considered to belong to the weaker sex.
When I returned to my quarters for the night, I found a handsome old man sitting near the house, on the grass under the tree, reading in a thick book. Somewhat later I fell into discourse with him, and borrowed the book from him. It was a book published by the sect of United Brethren, and was a statement of their doctrines, accompanied by copper-plate engravings. Their peculiar doctrines seemed to me to consist in a more literal adherence to the usages of the early Christians than is now generally the case. Thus the sect practise feet-washing as a religious ceremony, give the salutation of the kiss when they meet, and adhere to many other ancient customs. This sect, called also “Dunkers,” that is to say baptisers or dippers—and which is very numerous in this part of the Virginia Valley, is said to have come hither originally from Holland, and to be distinguished by its religious narrowness and stagnation, but otherwise by great unanimity and brotherly love among themselves, as well as by great industry.
It is said that two years ago a deliberative council of the Dunkers was held at Weiher's Grotto, at which two hundred long-bearded and long-haired men were present, to consult upon the most important affairs of the sect. One of the principal questions which was brought forward was, as to how far it was sinful or not to place lightning-conductors against their houses. The resolution to which ​the assembly came, after an examination of the question which continued for two days, was, “that the brethren who had already set up lightning-conductors against their houses, should not be recommended to remove them, but that the brethren who had not yet set them up, should be strongly recommended to do without them, and to trust in the Lord alone for the preservation of their houses.” In consequence of this stagnating principle, the Dunkers allow their beards and their hair to grow in the most undisturbed repose, and by the same rule, they should not either cut their nails, if they would be perfectly consistent; but they admit of an exception, when they find it for the best. They baptise each other in the river, by immersing the whole body under water, whence probably their name, and they have meeting-houses, and meet together like the Quakers, with alternate preaching and silence, with occasional feet-washing. They practise agriculture, are generally in good circumstances, and while they are friendly and communicative among themselves, are somewhat haughty and cold towards those whom they call the children of the world.
Whilst the Dunkers stagnate in this manner in the Virginia Valley, rooted to the earth and the very letter of religion, a large colony is at this moment establishing itself in the most westerly portion of Virginia, under the name of Egalitaires, and which, headed by French Communists, have purchased large tracts of land for the establishment of a community, the tendency of which is considerably unlike that of the Dunkers. Fortunate country—where everything can have a fair trial, and every bias of the human mind have its sphere and its place of action, to the benefit of the many-sided developments of the human spirit, without being detrimental to any!
During my journey from Weiher's Grotto the next morning, I visited a farm which belonged to a Dunker family. It was situated near the high road, and seemed ​to me the ideal of a little peasant farm, so neat and comfortable, so well-built, so well-kept, with its garden and fruit-trees. The long-haired husband was out at work in the fields, but the wife, a stout old woman in a costume very like that of a Quakeress, was at home, and looked at me askance with suspicious glances. She had a strong Dutch accent, and could not be drawn into conversation; and when I had had the draught of water for which I asked, and had looked about me both within and without the house, I pursued my journey on that beautiful morning, between the mountain-ridges to the right and to the left, to the little city of Staunton. Here I dined en famille with a very agreeable lawyer, Mr. B., whose conversation interested me much.
There are in Staunton some beautiful public institutions, among which is a large Lunatic Asylum, established on the same principles as those at Bloomingdale and in Philadelphia, and which produces the same results as regards the treatment of the insane. Cure is the rule—when the invalid is brought hither at the commencement of his malady—incurable cases are the exception.
I was very kindly invited to remain at Staunton, but I wished to continue my return, and at sunset I found myself once more on the summit of the Blue Mountains, quiet valleys lying east and west, at my feet; with their quiet little farms in the midst of the golden cornfields—a peaceful region to all appearance, but in which the strife about mine and thine is not the less hotly carried on at times, even to the separation of families.
As twilight came on we stopped at a very pretty and excellent place at the foot of the mountain, where everything was good, and the air so fresh that I was tempted to remain. But Davis and his horses were expensive luxuries, and therefore I drove on to Charlotte's Ville, to which place I had a pleasant journey through the quiet, fertile country.
​I shall now remain quietly here till after the University examination, when I shall return to Richmond; and after two days' stay there, pay a visit to Harper's ferry, one of the most romantic and beautiful tracts, it is said, in Virginia, at the union of the two rivers Potomac and Schenandoah—that lively little river which dances past Weiher's Grotto.
I intend to be ready to leave America by the end of August; and I must, therefore, give up the desire which I had to see more of the mountain districts of Virginia. Besides the journey by diligence is too fatiguing for me, and by carriage, too expensive. And after all, Virginia has no mountains which can be compared in grandeur to the White Mountains, and those I shall visit.
Whilst I linger in this beautiful and peaceful home—in which a good young couple make each other happy, and participate in the enjoyment of life's pleasures with a circle of friends—I read the early history of Virginia, and picture it to myself.
The earliest known history of Virginia is rendered remarkable by a poetical incident so beautiful and so affecting that I must transcribe it here for you, and copy for you also the portrait of its heroine, the young Indian girl, Matoaka or Pocahontas.
The accounts which the early English navigators brought home of the beautiful and fertile country lying on the eastern shores of North America, which they were the first to examine during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, so enchanted that monarch that she resolved to connect this new country more closely with herself, by giving to it the name which she herself loved to bear, that of Virginia. Virginia became the symbolic name of the new virgin-soil; and England first knew it under this name. Even the pilgrims from Leyden, who were borne by stress of wind and waves to the shore of Massachusetts, thought ​to sail “to the northern parts of Virginia, where they would found their colony.”
Before this, English adventurers in the southern parts of Virginia had penetrated inland, seeking for gold. But the greater part of these had perished miserably, in consequence of their own excesses, and the diseases incident to the climate. One man, however, John Smith,—an ambitious and bold adventurer, but equally prudent as courageous,—succeeded by his personal influence in giving some stability to a small colony, which was planted by the James River, and where he founded a city called James Town.
Where Richmond now stands, and a little above the falls of the river, a powerful Indian chief called Powhatan, styled also the emperor of the country, had his residence, and was obeyed by many smaller Indian tribes who were scattered over the surrounding country and cultivated the land. Smith advanced up the river, and endeavoured to penetrate into the interior, but here, unfortunately, his men disobeying his orders, were surprised by the Indians, put to death and he himself taken prisoner. He had been a prisoner before; had been sold as a slave in Turkey, and amid manifold adventures which his restless spirit had impelled him to seek in Europe, Asia, and Africa, he had become well acquainted with dangers, and prepared for whatever might occur. Standing captive amid the Indians whose hatred and cruelty he very well knew, he remained perfectly calm, and riveted the attention and interest of the Indians by showing them a compass and exhibiting to them various proofs of his knowledge and his skill. This excited astonishment and admiration. He was conveyed from one tribe to another, like some wonderful animal or conjuror, and finally to the Emperor Powhatan, who was to decide upon his fate. Whilst Powhatan and his chiefs were holding councils respecting the stranger, and to decide upon his fate, he employed himself ​in making battle-axes for the emperor, and necklaces of beads for his little daughter, the Princess Pocahontas, a girl of ten or twelve years old, who in appearance and expression greatly excelled all the Indian maidens, and who was called nonparielle among her people, from her intellect and her wit. The Emperor and his chiefs condemned Smith to death. He was doomed to be sacrificed to the gods of the nation and his head to be crushed by the blows of the tomahawk.
The Indians prepared themselves for a solemn festival. Fires were kindled before the images of their gods; Powhatan sat on his elevated seat, around him stood his warriors. Smith was brought forth and placed upon the ground, his head was laid upon a stone, and the tomahawks were lifted. But at once the little daughter of the Emperor, Pocahontas, sprang forward, threw her arms around the captive's neck and laid her head upon his. The tomahawks must fall upon her head before they reached his. Vain were threats, prayers, reasonings; the child remained resolute in still enfolding the victim in her protecting arms. This conduct at length moved the hearts of Powhatan and his savage warriors. Smith was pardoned for the sake of the little princess, and instead of his being treated as an enemy the chief gave him their word of amity, and let him go to his own people.
The understanding, however, between the English and Indians continued to be one of mistrust and hostility; the Indians were continually on the look-out for opportunities to attack their enemies. Pocahontas proved, however, to be the good angel of the English; and on one occasion, when they were in great want, she brought them corn and provisions; on another, she came to their camp, alone through the forest in the dead of the night, pale, and with her hair flying in the wind, to warn them of an approaching attack.
The beauty and amiability of Pocahontas tempted a ​few years later, an old unprincipled adventurer, with the help of a set of lawless fellows like himself, to steal her from her father. But a noble, devout, young Englishman, by name John Rolfe, an amiable enthusiast, became her protector. Daily, hourly, nay in his very sleep, amid the forests of Virginia had he heard a voice which seemed to bid him convert the Indian maiden to Christianity, and then marry her. And when the Holy Spirit asked him reproachfully (such are his own expressions) why he lived? The answer was given, “To lead the blind into the right way.” He struggled for long against his inclination for the young pagan princess as against a dangerous temptation, but finally yielded to the admonishing voice. He won her confidence, and became her teacher, and she before long publicly received Christian baptism in the little church at Jamestown, the roof of which was supported by rough pine-tree stems from her father's forests, and where the font was a hollowed fir-tree. Here, also, a short time afterwards was she married to Rolfe, stammering before the altar her marriage vows according to the rites of the English church. All this, it is said, was done with the consent of the father and relatives, her uncle, the chief Opachisco himself, conducting her to the altar.
The marriage was universally approved, even by the English, and in the year 1616 Rolfe sailed to England with his Indian wife, who, under the name of Lady Rebecca, was presented at Court, and was universally admired for her beauty and child-like naïveté. She was most admirable both as a wife and a young mother. But the young couple did not long enjoy their happiness; just as she was about preparing to return to America, she fell a victim to the English climate at the age of twenty-two. She left one son, who became the ancestral head of many generations, who are to this day proud of tracing their descent from the Indian Pocahontas; and I do not wonder at it. Her memory remains in singular beauty ​and pure splendour. The race who produced such a daughter deserved a better treatment from the people whom she protected than it received.
The portrait of Pocahontas, which I have copied, represents her in the costume which was worn by the higher class of English in the time of Elizabeth; but the stiff Indian plaits of hair which hang down her cheeks from beneath her hat betray her descent. The countenance has an affecting expression of child-like goodness and innocence; the eyes have a melancholy charm, and the form of the countenance reminds me of the Feather-cloud woman in Minnesota. The portrait was taken in 1616, when she was twenty-one years old, and bears the inscription, Matoaka als. Rebecca Filia potentiss. Princ. Powhatan Imp. Virginiæ.
Smith's portrait, which I have also drawn, shows a resolute, but not handsome, and very bearded warrior. His history, also in Virginia, is a chain of contentions, of bold actions, and misfortunes, by which he was finally subdued, without having left, of all his unquiet, combative life, any more beautiful memory than that which belongs to him from the child-like tenderness and attachment of the Indian girl. That which the strong arm of this ambitious man was not able to obtain, was obtained for him by two tender, childish arms which were wound round his neck.
My forenoons, as usual, I keep for myself, my afternoons are devoted to company, walking, &c. I have visited a few of the small farms in the neighbourhood, which are cultivated by free negroes, and have found them to be as neat and comfortable as those which belong to the white farmer. I have also been with my charming hostess to see her parents, a planter's family, not far from here; a family of good slave-holders, not rich enough to emancipate their slaves, but too good not to take care of and to make them happy. They belong ​to a considerable class in these middle Slave States, who would willingly see slavery abolished, and have white labourers in the place of black, to cultivate their maize and tobacco fields.
I like in the twilight to sit on the piazza under the beautiful trees with my amiable hostess, and decoy her on to tell me about her life in her father's house, of her first acquaintance with her husband, their courtship, and all that appertained thereto; of her happiness as a daughter, as a wife;—a little romance as pure, as pleasant as the air and the perfume of flowers around us in these tranquil evening hours, while the fire-flies dance in the dark shadow of the trees. Her love for her father was her first love; that for her good husband was her second; and the third, for the child which she expects, is now awaking, yet with fear and trembling, in her young heart.
In the evenings I see company, either at home or at the houses of some of the professors. These good gentlemen have now a deal to do regarding the examination and the preparation of testimonials and diplomas.
Two of the young students are to deliver farewell addresses before they leave the academy, where they have now finished their studies with honour, and I am invited to hear them.
28th.—I heard one of them yesterday evening, and if the second, which I shall hear this evening, is of the same character, as I expect it will be, I shall not have much pleasure in it. It is amazing what an enslaving power the institution of slavery exercises over the minds of the young, and over intelligence in general; and the young speaker of yesterday evening belonged to this enslaved class. He was a young man of refined features, and a certain aristocratic expression of countenance, but without any peculiar nobility. He is celebrated for having passed through a splendid examination, and for possessing great talents as a speaker.
​And his speech really flowed forth with a rushing rapidity; but such a shooting across the United States, such an ostentatious boast of the south, of the “Sons of the South, the flower and hope of the Union—nay, it was incomparable! One thing only impeded the grandeur and the growth of the United States, and its wonderful, mighty future, and this was—Abolitionism! It was this scorpion, this hydra in the social life of the United States, which ought to be crushed (and the speaker stamped vehemently and angrily on the floor) and annihilated! Then first only, would the north and the south, like two mighty rivers, be united, and side by side start forth towards the same grand, honourable goal!”
What this honourable goal may be I did not hear mentioned; but the students who were present in great numbers must have understood it, for they applauded tempestuously, and every heroic apostrophe to the heroism and nobility of the Sons of the South, was followed by a salvo of clapping; which at the close of the speech was doubled and redoubled, and seemed as if it never would end. Thus delighted were the Sons of the South with the speaker, with each other, and with themselves.
I left the hall very much depressed. Shall I not then find within the Slave States a noble, liberal youth, which is that upon which I most depend for the promise of approaching freedom? Must I again find among the young men that want of moral integrity, of courage and uprightness of mind? I have scarcely any desire to go and hear the speaker this evening; I am so weary of the old song.
29th.—I have had a great and unexpected pleasure: have heard “a new song sung,” and—but I will tell you all in due course.
I again took my seat in the crowded, lamp-lighted hall, and the young man who was to speak sate alone on an elevated platform facing the assembly; whilst the hall ​filled. This lasted for a good half hour, and it seemed to me that the young orator's situation could not be very pleasant, sitting there all alone, as he did, an object for all eyes; and I asked myself whether it could be this feeling which cast a certain shade, or a certain trance-like look, over his eyes. He was a tall young man of handsome, strong proportions, who yet seemed to me not fully grown; the countenance was pure and good, not regularly handsome, but handsome nevertheless, with a youthfully fresh complexion, and clear, strongly-marked features. I endeavoured inquisitively to guess from these the soul of the youth: but this lay, as it were, under a veil. The forehead was broad, the hair dark-brown, and abundant.
At length the moment came when he must rise and speak. He did this with great simplicity, without grace, but without any awkwardness or confusion, and began his speech, without the facility of the former speaker, but with calmness and precision. In the first part of his speech he took a hasty review of the nations of antiquity, with regard to that which caused their greatness or their fall. He showed that in all countries where slavery had existed, it had degraded the people, and finally caused their downfal.
When I heard this I confess that my heart beat high. “Is it possible,” thought I, “that I shall really hear in this Slave State, before this corporation of self-complacent advocates of slavery, a youth publicly, and like a man, raise his voice against slavery? The weak side of the South, and the nightshade of the New World!”
Yes, I shall! The youth continued boldly, and in the most logical manner, to apply to America those principles, the consequences of which he exhibited in the history of Europe and Asia. Without reservation, and with great beauty and decision of expression, he addressed his countrymen thus:—“I accuse you not of any deficiency ​in courage, in nobility of mind, in feeling for the good and the beautiful, in enterprise, in piety. But of this I accuse you, that you do not give education to the poor of your country, that you do not labour for the elevation of the lower classes of your countrymen.” And there is good reason for this accusation, for in Virginia, in consequence of the restrictive fetters of slavery, which prevent the increase of schools, there are upwards of eighty thousand white people who can neither read nor write. The population of Virginia, whites and blacks taken together amounts to about a million and a half.
The young orator declared the mission of America to be that of communicating the blessings of liberty and civilisation to all nations. “If America fulfil her duty in this respect, she will become great and happy; if not, then she will fall, and the greatness of her fall will be commensurate with the greatness of her mission, and the intended future in which she has failed.”
I cannot tell you with what feelings of delight I listened to these large-minded and bold words from the pure soul of a youth. It was so unlike anything which I had hitherto heard in the Slave States. It was what I had been longing to hear. My tears flowed, and I did not trouble myself about them being seen. I was very happy.
But where now was the enthusiasm which on the former evening had animated the Sons of the South. They listened in silence, as it were, in amazement, and the applause which was given at the close of the speech was cold and, as it were, forced.
The glorious youth looked as if applause or blame concerned him not. He had spoken from his own conviction; his youthfully fresh cheek glowed as with the crimson tinge of morning, and his dark eye and clear brow shone serenely as a cloudless heaven.
I could not have any conversation with him later in the evening, because he was summoned to his father, who was ​dangerously ill, and he was obliged to leave the place immediately. Nevertheless, I pressed his hand, and spoke my cordial thanks to him in the presence of his teachers and his companions.
The good professors were somewhat confounded by the unexpected character of the young man's speech, but full of admiration: Good heavens! They had not expected such a speech. Really an uncommon speech! Above the common average! and so on.
Alexander S. Brown (I write the name at full) was declared to be a fine fellow! a smart young man! The President even expressed himself very warmly in his praise. But the learned in law and books were nevertheless somewhat afraid of giving to Cæsar that which was due to Cæsar, and endeavoured to indemnify themselves by certain depreciatory and apologistic concessions.
This was one of my happiest evenings in the Southern States, and I now looked with more cheerful, more loving glances upon this beautiful soil since it had produced such youth. How noble and how happy ought not his mother to be!
Richmond, July 1st.
Again good morning in the capital of Virginia; but not now in the city itself, but in one of its rural suburbs, where I am domiciled in a lovely country-house, beautifully situated upon a lofty terrace on the banks of the James River, surrounded by a park, with its lofty spreading trees. It is the residence of Mrs. Van S., a beautiful home, and I am infinitely well off here, in the midst of kind, well-wishing friends.
I left Professor S. de V. and his charming wife yesterday morning with mutual good wishes, and hope in a short time to have good tidings from them.
The business at Charlotte's Ville on Saturday consisted for the most part of speeches and the distribution of ​diplomas. I could not hear much of the former, and my principal pleasure was the contemplation of the assembly of ladies, among whom I remarked a great number of very lovely and happy countenances. If the Juno style of beauty is not met with in America as it is in Europe, there are, on the contrary, a greater number of cheerful, lovely countenances, and scarcely any which can be called ugly. The men are not handsome, but have a manly appearance, and, in a general way, are well made and full of strength. This, I believe, I have said once or twice before, but I have not said, what nevertheless should be said, that among the Americans are not found that decided type of one distinct race as we find it among the English, Irish, French, Spaniards, Germans, &c. An American, male or female, might belong to any nation, in its beautiful, human character, but divested of nationality; nay, even the Swedish, that is to say, when this is found in the most perfect faces, because a well-formed, fine nose, and an oval countenance, is almost universal among the ladies. Our full-moon countenances, and noses which come directly out of them like a handle, or a projecting point of rock, are not seen here; neither are potato-noses, like my own. Still I have seen many a blooming young girl in the northern States of America, many a handsome young man, more like Swedes than the English or the French. Nevertheless, light hair and light eyes are rare.
July 2nd. How wearisome is this interrogative, this empty and thoughtless chatter of mere callers, especially ladies! Want of observation, want of an ear for life, is, after all, one of the greatest wants here, and the school, which before every other, is needed most in this New World, is the old Pythagorean.
Life, with its large, holy interests, its earnest scenes, passes by these childish, undeveloped beings, without their either seeing or thinking about it. Dissipated by the outward and ordinary, they do not listen to the great still ​voice which calls to them every day from the midst of the life in which they live, like insects of a day.
July 3rd.—I have to-day, in company with an estimable German gentleman, resident at Richmond, visited some of the negro jails, that is, those places of imprisonment in which negroes are in part punished, and in part confined for sale. I saw in one of these jails, a tall, strong-limbed negro, sitting silent and gloomy, with his right-hand wrapped in a cloth: I asked if he were ill.
“No,” replied his loquacious keeper, “but he is a very bad rascal. His master, who lives higher up the river, has parted him from his wife and children, to sell him down South, as he wanted to punish him, and now, the scoundrel, to be revenged upon his master, and to make himself fetch a less sum of money, has cut off the fingers of his right hand! The rascal asked me to lend him an axe to knock the nails into his shoes with, and I lent it him without suspecting any bad intention, and now has the fellow gone and maimed himself for life!”
I went up to the negro, who certainly had not a good countenance, and asked him whether he were a Christian. He replied curtly, “no!” Whether he ever had heard of Christ? He again replied, “no!” I said to him, that if he had known him, he would not have done this act; but that even now he ought not to believe himself abandoned, because He who has said—“Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden,” had spoken also to him and would console and recreate even him.
He listened to me at the commencement with a gloomy countenance, but by degrees he brightened up, and at the close looked quite melted. This embittered soul was evidently still open and accessible to good. The sun shone into the prison-yard where he sat with his maimed hand, and the heavy irons on his feet, but no Christian had come hither to preach to him the Gospel of Mercy.
The door of the prison was opened to us by a negro, ​whose feet also were fettered by heavy irons. He looked so good-tempered and agreeable, that I asked with some astonishment;
“But this man, what has he done that he should then be in irons?”
“Ah,” said the keeper, “just nothing but his master had hired him out to work in the coal pits, and something disagreeable to him happened there, so the fellow after that would not work there, and refused to go; so his master wishes to sell him, to punish him, and he ordered that we should put him in irons just to mortify him.”
And this plan had succeeded completely. The poor fellow was so annoyed and ashamed, that he did not seem to know which way to look while the keeper related his story; and besides that, he looked so good-tempered, so full of sensibility that, strong fellow as he was, he seemed as if he would suffer rather from an injustice being done to him, than be excited by it to defiance and revenge, as was the case with the other negro. He was evidently a good man, and deserved a better master.
In another prison, we saw a pretty little white boy of about seven years of age, sitting among some tall negro-girls. The child had light hair, the most lovely light-brown eyes, and cheeks as red as roses; he was nevertheless the child of a slave mother, and was to be sold as a slave. His price was three hundred and fifty dollars. The negro-girls seemed very fond of the white boy, and he was left in their charge, but whether that was for his good or not is difficult to say. No motherly Christian mother visited either this innocent imprisoned boy, or the negro-girls. They were left to a heathenish life and the darkness of the prison.
In another “jail” were kept the so called “fancy-girls,” for fancy purchasers. They were handsome fair mulattos, some of them almost white girls.
We saw in one jail the room in which the slaves are flogged, both men and women. There were iron rings in ​the floor to which they are secured when they are laid down. I looked at the strip of cow-hide, “the paddle,” with which they are flogged, and remarked, “blows from this could not however do very much harm.”
“Oh, yes, yes, but,”—replied the keeper, grinning with a very significent glance, “it can cause as much torture as any other instrument, and even more, because one can give a many blows with this strip of hide, without its leaving any outward sign; it does not cut into the flesh.”
The slaves may remain many months in this prison before they are sold.
The Southern States are said to be remarkable for their strict attention to religious observances; they go regularly to church; they send out missionaries to China and to Africa. But they leave the innocent captive slave in their own prisons, without instruction or consolation.
Yet once more—what might not women, what ought not women, to do in this case!
I have heard young beautiful girls, declare themselves proud to be Americans, and above everything else, proud to be Virginians! I should like to have taken them to these jails, and have seen whether in the face of all this injustice, they could have been proud of being Virginians, proud of the institutions of Virginia.
July 5th.—Here also, as everywhere on my pilgrimage, have I become acquainted with good and thoughtful people, who form a perfect counterbalance to the unthinking and the bad, and who attach me to the place and the community where I am. Foremost among the good, stands the family in which I am now a guest, yes, these are ladies so tender-hearted, especially towards the negroes, that I find myself standing upon the moderate and less liberal side, whilst I nevertheless inwardly enjoy the sight of warm hearts who only err through an excess of kindness to an oppressed people. Such a sight is very rare in a Slave State. Agreeable and clever women, courteous and ​thinking men, have afforded me many a pleasant moment, and warmed my heart by their kindness and hospitality.
Among my gentleman acquaintance who have contributed to my pleasure, I may mention an elderly clergyman, belonging, I believe, to the Episcopal Church, who has given me some interesting information respecting the religious life and songs of the negroes; and a quaker, Mr. B., with a handsome, regular countenance, and a quiet thoughtful turn of mind; he has told me much that is interesting regarding his own sect, and its form of internal government; and also that lately some quaker-women have been cited before a court of justice at New York, to give evidence in a complicated trial, and the clearness with which they did it was universally admired and commented upon by the newspapers. Mr. B. attributed this to the calmness and self-possession which distinguishes the quaker-women, and to their being early accustomed to self-government and public discussions in the part which they have to take in the business of their society.
Yesterday, the 4th of July, the great day of America, was celebrated as usual, by speech-making and processions, and drinking of toasts, and publicly reading of the Declaration of Independence. It was read in the African church of the city; but why they selected the negro church of all others for the reading of the declaration of freedom, which is so diametrically opposed to the institution of slavery, I cannot comprehend, when the burlesque of the whole thing must be so evident to every one.
I have been, with a kind and agreeable lady, Mrs. G., to visit the house of correction here. The system which is pursued here has nothing new in it, and the polite old colonel who showed us the establishment looked like some formal relic of Washington's staff. It astonished me not to find here one single white prisoner. Of men there were about two hundred. There were some black women ​here, and among them that free negro-woman who had endeavoured to aid the young slave in making her escape; she had a very good and frank countenance, but was condemned to remain here for five years. The room in which these women were placed was large, light, and clean, and my companion, Mrs. G., was received by the black female prisoners with evident affection and joy. She belongs to a society of ladies, who here (as well as throughout the United States) are organised for the purpose of visiting the prisoners (but who in the Slave States forget the innocent prisoner), and it was very apparent that the most cordial understanding existed between her and these black prisoners.
The rich planter who maltreated and killed his slave, and was therefore sentenced to five years' imprisonment in the house of correction, ought to have been in it, but he was not yet brought hither, and probably he would purchase his exemption from the punishment. Mammon is mighty.
There exists in Virginia a growing feeling of the burden and the guilt of slavery, as is the case in all the middle slave-states of America, which would be much more benefited by white than black labour, and which see their development, both physical and spiritual, restricted and hampered by the institution of slavery; and I believe, what I have been credibly informed is the case, that these states would have already shaken themselves from the yoke of slavery, and that Virginia indeed would have done so some years since, if they had not been withheld, and had not been irritated to antagonism by the unwise and unjust abolitionism of the North.
I do not say that this is high ground for them to take, because no injustice should prevent our doing that which is just and wise; but it is natural, and, to a certain extent, I myself can sympathise in it.
But now that the Northern States, for the preservation ​of peace, have conceded to the Southern the honourable and holy right of sanctuary, which their states had afforded—now that they have given up the precious privilege of protecting the fugitive slave, out of regard to the constitutional rights of the Southern States—and now that violent abolitionism is more and more giving place to a nobler and calmer spirit, nothing, I think, ought any longer to prevent the Middle Slave States from carrying out such measures as would contribute to their highest interests.
The slave institution of Virginia has not merely permitted a vast amount of the white population to grow up—eighty thousand I have understood—without being able either to read or write, and who are as low in morals as in education; but it has here, as well as elsewhere, prevented the development of industry and the extension of emigration, and has caused a want of enterprise in public works, and hence want of employment for an increasing poor population. The consequences of this have assumed every year a more threatening aspect. There is here no background of strong and noble popular life, as in the free states, in which the government of the states and the schools are filled as by a fresh germ of life. Immorality, ignorance, and poverty increase; and it cannot be otherwise when one half of the people hold the other in slavery. The planters of Virginia, proud of their historic memories, and of their slaves, among whom they fancy that they live like feudal princes of the middle ages, although this is a great mistake, intrenched behind their traditions and slave institutions, have styled themselves “high-blooded” and “high-minded,” and other such terms, have sat still whilst the chariot of the age has passed by them. The rapidly-flourishing condition of the free states of the Union, during a life full of great public undertakings, and the development of intelligence as well as of the industrial spirit, and the decline of Virginia, both in affluence ​and moral and intellectual culture, in comparison with the former, has begun to open the eyes of the people, and during the last few years a new life has shown itself through industrial undertakings, which were formerly despised as mean and unnecessary. Railways are beginning to be laid down, means of communication are required, and a more vigorous life is beginning to circulate in the material region of the state; and there is no fear of its stagnating.
The convention which is now sitting at Richmond finds it has to deal with new difficulties, based on the institution of slavery. Eastern and Western Virginia are at this moment in open feud on the subject of voting at the elections. Eastern Virginia is possessed of plantations and slaves, and will, according to accepted usage, vote by its slaves, three slaves being considered equivalent to one free man. Western Virginia, which is hilly country, has no plantations, and very few slaves, and therefore opposes the right of Eastern Virginia to strengthen herself by the votes of her slaves. She has, therefore, sent to the convention a powerful champion in a Mr. Weise, who, like a new Nimrod, has come forth from the forests in full hunter habiliments, and deals his blows around him with mighty hunter spirit, speaking in this style:—
“What, you will let the voices of your slaves weigh against ours in elections? You have forgotten that you have declared the negro-slave to have no soul. Come, don't contradict me! I tell you that you have declared that hundreds of times by your laws, by your customs, and by your statutes. Answer me, come forth and contradict me, if you can! Have you not bought and sold them like brute beasts? Have you not forbidden that they shall be educated; forbidden them to feel, to think, to speak like rational beings? I will give any one a hundred dollars who will prove me wrong. But it is much better that you keep your mouths shut and say nothing. It is ​the most sensible thing you can do, my friends. If any one murmurs, I will kill him with a word. I am a pro-slavery man, and I hate abolitionism. I will neither hear it spoken of, nor the emancipation of the slaves. But when you come and assert that your slaves have souls, and that they are capable of voting against free men—come, gentlemen, that is quite too foolish an idea, quite too irrational, because you have shown both by word and deed that negroes have no souls, and that they ought to be regarded as brute beasts. Talk here, talk there, talk as much as you like, nobody can talk me down!”
Thus does Mr. Weise talk and perorate the length and breadth of the capitol at Richmond, with so much boldness and so much rude wit and jocularity, that he puts all opposition out of the question; and at the same time that he seems to favour slavery, he exhibits all the contradictions and the enormities to which it leads. This speech has caused great excitement at this moment, and the columns of the newspapers are full of it.
Through the newspapers is also made known at this time occurrences in Virginia, which more than anything else seem to speak powerfully against an institution which evidently undermines the morals and good sense of the white people, by allowing in their youth the indulgence of arbitrary and despotic passion. At Lynchburg, a large city in Virginia, two young men, both editors of newspapers, have just now shot each other with pistols in the open street. A little while ago they had a newspaper quarrel, in which they threatened each other. They met one morning accidentally, and without agreement or preparation, at once fired at each other with an intent to kill. The one died the same day, the other is mortally wounded. Both were newly married, one only within a few weeks.
The second tragedy is a case of elopement. A young Dr. Williams loved a Miss Morris. Her father and ​family, planters of Virginia, opposed the union of the lovers, and he carried her off. Her father and brother pursued them, and overtook them in a small city. They came upon them as they sat at the table d'hôte of an hotel. Young Morris, Dr. Williams, and a young man, his friend, who had aided the lovers, fell into a dispute in the room, drew forth their pistols, exchanged shots, and the consequence of this scene was three corpses, two of which were Dr. Williams and young Morris. Old Mr. Morris returned home, taking with him the corpse of his son, and his daughter insane.
These occurrences are much talked of and deplored, but not as anything very extraordinary.
The homes in the Slave States cannot possibly cultivate and guard the child as the homes of the Free States can; they foster selfishness and those dispositions which later in life disturb their peace.
In the good and affectionate home in which I am now a guest, I see nothing but the most beautiful relationship between white and black, and have occasion afresh to admire and marvel at the musical genius of the negro-people. A young negro, who is house-servant and waits at table, sings songs as naturally as he breathes, sings even in the stomach, as a ventriloquist, and when he, during meal-times, brushes away the flies, as is usual here, with a large besom of feathers, he does it unconsciously to the tune of some melody which silently sounds in his memory.
I am now about to leave the Slave States not to return to them, neither will I again return to the subject of slavery, but here give my parting words. I do this with the wish that the noble and right-thinking men and women, whom I know are to be met with in all the Slave States of North America, would stand more determinedly forward and separate themselves from the mass, proving by word and deed that they have considered what belongs ​to the welfare of their people and state. I would have a convention, a sort of high tribunal, formed of the best men both of the North and of the South, to deliberate on the question of slavery, and thus I believe that the friends of freedom and of the Union would alike have reason to rejoice in its results.
The noblest of the Slave States should take the lead of the rest, by the adoption of those measures of legislative emancipation for the slave which at this moment make the Spanish monarchy in advance of the American republic.
No States appear to me more likely to take the lead in such a liberal movement than the youthful, liberal Georgia among the Southern States, and Virginia among the Middle States. Virginia, one of the oldest of the American States, one of the foremost in civil liberty, and in the war for independence; Virginia, the native land of Washington, Jefferson, and many other great men, and before all, of Washington that true type of the man and the citizen of the New World, whose greatness was of ​that rare kind that it grows the nearer you approach it, and who, like every true American, did not allow himself to be ruled by time and by mankind, but who ruled them.
I rejoice in Washington's glorious statue in the capital of Virginia. I rejoice in that which I now read of him, sketched by Bancroft in the last pages of the third part of his “History of the United States.”
“The treaties of Aix-la-Chapelle had been negotiated by the ablest statesmen of Europe, in the splendid forms of monarchical diplomacy. They believed themselves the arbiters of mankind, the pacificators of the world, reconstructing the colonial system on a basis which should endure for ages, confirming the peace of Europe by the mere adjustment of material forces. At the very time of the congress of Aix-la-Chapelle, the woods of Virginia sheltered the youthful George Washington, the son of a widow. Born by the side of the Potomac, beneath the roof of a Westmoreland farmer, almost from infancy his lot had been the lot of an orphan. No academy had welcomed him to its shades; no college crowned him with its honours; to read, to write, to cipher—these had been his degrees in knowledge. And now at sixteen years of age, in quest of an honest maintenance, encountering intolerable toil; cheered onward by being able to write to a schoolboy friend—‘Dear Richard, a doubloon is my constant gain every day, and sometimes six pistoles;’ himself his own cook, having no spit but a forked stick, no plate but a large chip; ‘roaming over spurs of the Alleghanies, and along the banks of the Schenandoah; alive to nature and sometimes spending the best of the day in admiring the trees and the richness of the land;’ among skin-clad savages with their scalps and rattles, or uncouth emigrants, that would never speak English; rarely sleeping in a bed, holding a bearskin a splendid couch; glad of a resting-place for the night on a little hay, straw, ​or fodder, and often camping in the forests, where the place nearest the fire was a happy luxury; this stripling surveyor in the woods, with no companion but his unlettered associates, and no implements of science but his compass and his chain, contrasted strongly with the imperial magnificence of the congress of Aix-la-Chapelle. And yet God had selected, not Kaunitz nor Newcastle, not a monarch of the house of Hapsburg, nor of Hanover, but the Virginian stripling, to give an impulse to human affairs, and as far as events can depend on an individual, had placed the rights and destinies of countless millions in the keeping of the widow's son.”
And after this truly great man had accomplished his important task, and achieved an independence for his native land, he crowned his life rich in honour by giving freedom to his slaves, after having faithfully provided for their future.
How long will Virginia remain behind her noblest son?
But while we are earnest for the abolition of slavery, and for the advancement of the honour of America, let us not forget what is the condition of the lower classes of our working people in Europe, and even in our own country. Is not their life of labour too often like a hard slavery, especially as regards the women? Are not the daily wages of women in the country so miserably low that, even if they work every day, the whole year round, they can scarcely earn food and clothing for themselves and a couple of children. When a third child comes then comes want necessarily with it. Is it not a common thing to hear the poor women on our country estates deplore, as even a punishment of God, when they are about to give birth to a poor child; to hear mothers thank God for having of his mercy taken away a child, that is to say, because it is dead! Of a truth our own working-class may improve themselves, both intellectually and ​physically, and every one may be the artificer of his own fortune. And this is a great advantage. But circumstances are often so compulsory that even this liberty does not help much.
I leave Virginia grateful for the good which it has given me, in beautiful scenery, amiable friends, for this home full of kindness, and for the memory of a youth, from whose pure soul I derive new hope for the future of America; hope and anticipation from the youthful generation whose representative I see in him!