A Girl's Life in Virginia before the War Part 9

The eldest of the three brothers was William Ballard Preston, once Secretary of the Navy in the cabinet of President Taylor.

CHAPTER XII.

In the region of country just described and in the counties beyond abound the finest mineral springs, one or more being found on every plantation. At one place there were seven different springs, and the servants had a habit of asking the guests and family whether they would have--before breakfast--a gla.s.s of White Sulphur, Yellow Sulphur, Black Sulphur, Alleghany, Alum, or Limestone water!

The old Greenbrier White Sulphur Springs was a favorite place of resort for eastern Virginians and South Carolinians at a very early date, when it was accessible only by private conveyances, and all who pa.s.sed the summer there went in private carriages. In this way certain old Virginia and South Carolina families met every season, and these old people told us that society there was never so good after the railroads and stages brought "all sorts of people, from all sorts of places." This, of course, we knew nothing about from experience, and it sounded rather egotistical in the old people to say so, but that is what they said.

Indeed, these "old folks" talked so much about what "used to be in their day" at the old White Sulphur, that I found it hard to convince myself that I had not been bodily present, seeing with my own eyes certain knee-buckled old gentlemen, with long queues, and certain Virginia and South Carolina belles attired in short-waisted, simple, white cambrics, who pa.s.sed the summers there. These white cambrics, we were told, had been carried in minute trunks behind the carriages; and were considered, with a few jewels, and a long black or white lace veil thrown over the head and shoulders, a complete outfit for the reigning belles! Another curiosity was that these white cambric dresses--our grandmothers told us--required very little "doing up:"

one such having been worn by Mrs. General Washington--so her granddaughter told me--a whole week without requiring washing! It must have been an age of remarkable women and remarkable cambrics! How little they dreamed then of an era when Saratoga trunks would be indispensable to ladies of much smaller means than Virginia and South Carolina belles!

To reach these counties flowing with mineral waters, the families from eastern Virginia and from South Carolina pa.s.sed through a beautiful region of Virginia known as Piedmont, and those who had kinsfolk or acquaintances there usually stopped to pay them a visit. Consequently the Piedmont Virginians were generally too busy entertaining summer guests to visit the Springs themselves. Indeed, why should they? No more salubrious climate could be found than their own, and no scenery more grand and beautiful. But it was necessary for the tide-water Virginians to leave their homes every summer on account of chills and fevers.

In the lovely Piedmont region, over which the "Peaks of Otter" rear their giant heads, and chains of blue mountains extend as far as eye can reach, were scattered many pleasant and picturesque homes. And in this section my grandfather bought a plantation, when the ancestral estates in the eastern part of the State had been sold to repay the British debt, which estates, homesteads, and tombstones with their quaint inscriptions, are described in Bishop Meade's "Old Churches and Families of Virginia."

While the tide-water Virginians were already practicing all the arts and wiles known to the highest English civilization; sending their sons to be educated in England, and receiving therefrom brocaded silks and powdered wigs; and dancing the minuet at the Williamsburg b.a.l.l.s with the families of the n.o.blemen sent over to govern the colony,--Piedmont was still a dense forest, the abode of Indians and wild animals.

It was not strange, then, that the Piedmont Virginians never arrived at the opulent manner of living adopted by those on the James and York rivers, who, tradition tells us, went to such excess in high living as to have "hams boiled in champagne," and of whom other amusing and interesting tales have been handed down to us. Although the latter were in advance of the Piedmont Virginians in wealth and social advantages, they were not superior to them in honor, virtue, kindness, or hospitality.

It has been remarked that, "when natural scenery is picturesque, there is in the human character something to correspond; impressions made on the retina are really made on the soul, and the mind becomes what it contemplates."

The same author continues: "A man is not only _like_ what he sees, but he _is_ what he sees. The n.o.ble old Highlander has mountains in his soul, whose towering peaks point heavenward; and lakes in his bosom, whose gla.s.sy surfaces reflect the skies; and foaming cataracts in his heart to beautify the mountain side and irrigate the vale; and evergreen firs and mountain pines that show life and verdure even under winter skies!"

"On the other hand," he writes, "the wandering nomad has a desert in his heart; its dead level reflects heat and hate; a sullen, barren plain,--no goodness, no beauty, no dancing wave of joy, no gushing rivulet of love, no verdant hope. And it is an interesting fact that those who live in countries where natural scenery inspires the soul, and where the necessities of life bind to a permanent home, are always patriotic and high-minded; and those who dwell in the desert are always pusillanimous and groveling!"

If what this author writes be true, and the character of the Piedmont Virginians accords with the scenery around them, how their hearts must be filled with gentleness and charity inspired by the landscape which stretches far and fades in softness against the sky! How must their minds be filled with n.o.ble aspirations suggested by the everlasting mountains! How their souls must be filled with thoughts of heaven as they look upon the glorious sunsets bathing the mountains in rose-colored light, with the towering peaks ever pointing heavenward and seeming to say: "Behold the glory of a world beyond!"[14]

[14] From this vicinity went nine ministers who were eminent in their several churches: two Episcopal bishops, one Methodist bishop, three distinguished Presbyterian and three Baptist divines of talent and fame.

Beneath the shadow of the "Peaks" were many happy homes and true hearts, and, among these, memory recalls none more vividly than Otterburn and its inmates.

Otterburn was the residence of a gentleman and his wife who, having no children, devoted themselves to making their home attractive to visitors, in which they succeeded so well that they were rarely without company, for all who went once to see them went again and again.

This gentleman, Benjamin Donald, was a man of high character,--his accomplishments, manner and appearance marking him "rare,"--"one in a century." Above his fellow-men in greatness of soul, he could comprehend nothing mean. His stature was tall and erect; his features bold; his countenance open and impressive; his mind vigorous and cultivated; his bearing dignified, but not haughty; his manners simple and attractive; his conversation so agreeable and enlivening that the dullest company became animated as soon as he came into the room.

Truth and lofty character were so unmistakably stamped upon him that a day's acquaintance convinced one he could be trusted forever. Brought up in Scotland, the home of his ancestors, in him were blended the best points of Scotch and Virginia character,--strict integrity and whole-souled generosity and hospitality.

How many days and nights we pa.s.sed at his house, and in childhood and youth how many hours were we entertained by his bright and instructive conversation! Especially delightful was it to hear his stories of Scotland, which brought vividly before us pictures of its lakes and mountains and castles. How often did we listen to his account of the wedding-tour to Scotland, when he carried his Virginia bride to the old home at Greenock! And how often we laughed about the Scotch children, his nieces and nephews, who, on first seeing his wife, clapped their hands and shouted: "Oh, mother! are you not glad uncle did not marry a black woman?" Hearing he was to marry a Virginian, they expected to see a savage Indian or negro! And some of the family who went to Liverpool to meet them, and were looking through spy-gla.s.ses when the vessel arrived, said they were "sure the Virginia lady had not come, because they saw no one among the pa.s.sengers dressed in a red shawl and gaudy bonnet like an Indian"!

From this we thought that Europeans must be very ignorant of our country and its inhabitants, and we have since learned that their children are purposely kept ignorant of facts in regard to America and its people.

Among many other recollections of this dear old friend of Otterburn I shall never forget a dream he told us one night, which so impressed us that, before his death, we asked him to write it out, which he did; and, as the copy is before me in his own handwriting, I will insert it here:

"About the time I became of age I returned to Virginia for the purpose of looking after and settling my father's estate. Three years thereafter I received a letter from my only sister, informing me that she was going to be married, and pressing me in the most urgent manner to return to Scotland to be present at her marriage, and to attend to the drawing of the marriage contract. The letter gave me a good deal of trouble, as it did not suit me to leave Virginia at that time. I went to bed one night, thinking much on this subject, but soon fell asleep, and dreamed that I landed in Greenock in the night-time, and pushed for home, thinking I would take my aunt and sister by surprise.

"When I arrived at the door, I found all still and quiet, and the out-door locked. I thought, however, that I had in my pocket my check-key, with which I quietly opened the door and groped my way into the sitting-room, but, finding no one there, I concluded they had gone to bed. I then went upstairs to their bedroom, and found that unoccupied. I then concluded they had taken possession of my bedroom in my absence, but, not finding them there, became very uneasy about them. Then it struck me they might be in the guest's chamber, a room downstairs kept exclusively for company. Upon going there I found the door partially open; I saw my aunt removing the burning coals from the top of the grate preparatory to going to bed. My sister was sitting up in bed, and as I entered the room she fixed her eyes upon me, but did not seem to recognize me. I approached toward her, and, in the effort to make myself known, awoke and found it all a dream. At breakfast next morning I felt wearied and sick, and could not eat, and told the family of my (dream) journey overnight.

"I immediately commenced preparing, and in a very short time returned to Scotland. I saw my sister married, and she and her husband set off on their 'marriage jaunt.' About a month thereafter they returned, and at dinner I commenced telling them of my dream; but, observing they had quit eating and were staring at me, I laughed, and asked what was the matter, whereupon my brother-in-law very seriously asked me to go on. When I finished, they asked me if I remembered the exact time of my dream. I told them it distressed and impressed me so strongly that I noted it down at the time. I pulled out my pocketbook and showed them the date, '14th day of May,' written in pencil. They all rose from the table and took me into the bedroom and showed me, written with pencil on the white mantelpiece, '14th of May.'

"I asked them what that meant, and was informed that on that very night--and _the only night_ they ever occupied that room during my absence--my aunt was taking the coals off of the fire, when my sister screamed out: 'Brother has come!'

"My aunt scolded her, and said she was dreaming; but she said she had not been to sleep, was sitting up in bed, and _saw me_ enter the room, and run out when she screamed. So confident was she that she had seen me, and that I had gone off and hidden, that the whole house was thoroughly searched for me, and as soon as day dawned a messenger was sent to inquire if any vessel had arrived from America, or if I had been seen by any of my friends."

No one who visited Otterburn can forget the smiling faces of the negro servants about the house, who received the guests with as true cordiality as did their mistress, expressing their pleasure by widespread mouths showing white teeth (very white by contrast with their jet-black skin), and when the guests were going away always insisted on their remaining longer.

One of these negro women was not only an efficient servant, but a valuable friend to her mistress.

In the absence of her master and mistress she kept the keys, often entertaining their friends, who, in pa.s.sing from distant plantations, were accustomed to stop, and who received from her a cordial welcome, finding on the table as many delicacies as if the family had been at home.

No more sincere attachment could have existed than that between this lady and her servant. At last, when the latter was seized with a contagious fever which ended her life, she could not have had a more faithful friend and nurse than was her mistress.

The same fever attacked all the negroes on the plantation, and none can describe the anxiety, care, and distress of their owners, who watched by their beds day and night, administering medicine and relieving the sick and dying.

CHAPTER XIII.

Among other early recollections is a visit with my mother to the plantation of a favorite cousin, not far from Richmond, and one of the handsomest seats on the James River. This residence--Howard's Neck[15]--was a favorite resort for people from Richmond and the adjacent counties, and, like many others on the river, always full of guests; a round of visiting and dinner parties being kept up from one house to another, so that the ladies presiding over these establishments had no time to attend to domestic duties, which were left to their housekeepers while they were employed entertaining visitors.

[15] Dr. Cunningham's.

The negroes on these estates appeared lively and happy--that is, if singing and laughing indicate happiness; for they went to their work in the fields singing, and returned in the evening singing, after which they often spent the whole night visiting from one plantation to another, or dancing until day to the music of the banjo or "fiddle." These dances were wild and boisterous, their evolutions being like those of the savage dances described by travelers in Africa. Although the most perfect timists, their music, with its wild, melancholy cadence, half savage, half civilized, cannot be imitated or described. Many a midnight were we wakened by their wild choruses, sung as they returned from a frolic or "corn-shucking," sounding at first like some hideous, savage yell, but dying away on the air, echoing a cadence melancholy and indescribable, with a peculiar pathos, and yet without melody or sweetness.

Corn-shuckings were occasions of great hilarity and good eating. The negroes from various plantations a.s.sembled at night around a huge pile of corn. Selecting one of their number--usually the most original and amusing, and possessed of the loudest voice--they called him "captain." The captain seated himself on top of the pile--a large lightwood torch burning in front of him, and, while he shucked, improvised words and music to a wild "recitative," the chorus of which was caught up by the army of shuckers around. The glare of the torches on the black faces, with the wild music and impromptu words, made a scene curious even to us who were so accustomed to it.

After the corn was shucked they a.s.sembled around a table laden with roasted pigs, mutton, beef, hams, cakes, pies, coffee, and other substantials--many partic.i.p.ating in the supper who had not in the work. The laughing and merriment continued until one or two o'clock in the morning.

On these James River plantations distinguished foreigners were often entertained, who, visiting Richmond, desired to see something of Virginia country life. Mr. Thackeray was once a guest at one of these places, but d.i.c.kens never visited them. Could he have pa.s.sed a month at any one of the homes I have described, he would, I am sure, have written something more flattering of Americans and American life than is found in "Martin Chuzzlewit" and "American Notes." However, with these we should not quarrel, as some of the sketches, especially the one on "tobacco-chewers," we can recognize.

Every nation has a right to its prejudices--certainly the English people have such a right as regards America, this country appearing to the English eye like a huge mushroom, the growth of a night, and unsubstantial. But it is surely wrong to censure a whole nation--as some have done the Southern people--for the faults of a few. Although the right of a nation to its prejudices be admitted, no one has a right, without thorough examination and acquaintance with the subject, to publish as facts the exaggerated accounts of another nation, put forth by its enemies. The world in this way receives very erroneous impressions.

For instance, we have no right to suppose the Germans a cruel race because of the following paragraph clipped from a recent newspaper:

"The cruelty of German officers is a matter of notoriety, but an officer in an artillery regiment has lately gone beyond precedent in ingenuity of cruelty. Some of his men being insubordinate, he punished them by means of a 'spurring process,' which consisted in jabbing spurs persistently and brutally into their legs. By this process his men were so severely injured that they had to go to the hospital."

Neither have we a right to p.r.o.nounce all Pennsylvanians cruel to their "helps," as they call them, because a Pennsylvania lady told me "the only way she could manage her help"--a white girl fourteen years old--"was by holding her head under the pump and pumping water upon it until she lost her breath,"--a process I could not have conceived, and which filled me with horror.

But sorrow and oppression, we suppose, may be found in some form in every clime, and in every phase of existence some hearts are "weary and heavy laden." Even d.i.c.kens, whose mind naturally sought and fed upon the comic, saw wrong and oppression in the "humane inst.i.tutions"

of his own land!

And Macaulay gives a painful picture of Mme. D'Arblay's life as waiting-maid to Queen Charlotte--from which we are not to infer, however, that all queens are cruel to their waiting-maids.

Mme. D'Arblay--whose maiden name was Frances Burney--was the first female novelist in England who deserved and received the applause of her countrymen. The most eminent men of London paid homage to her genius. Johnson, Burke, Windham, Gibbon, Reynolds, Sheridan, were her friends and ardent eulogists. In the midst of her literary fame, surrounded by congenial friends, herself a star in this select and brilliant coterie, she was offered the place of waiting-maid in the palace. She accepted the position, and bade farewell to all congenial friends and pursuits. "And now began," says Macaulay, "a slavery of five years--of five years taken from the best part of her life, and wasted in menial drudgery. The history of an ordinary day was this: Miss Burney had to rise and dress herself early, that she might be ready to answer the royal bell, which rang at half after seven. Till about eight she attended in the queen's dressing-room, and had the honor of lacing her august mistress's stays, and of putting on the hoop, gown, and neck-handkerchief. The morning was chiefly spent in rummaging drawers and laying fine clothes in their proper places. Then the queen was to be powdered and dressed for the day. Twice a week her Majesty's hair had to be curled and c.r.a.ped; and this operation added a full hour to the business of the toilet. It was generally three before Miss Burney was at liberty. At five she had to attend her colleague, Mme. Schwellenberg, a hateful old toadeater, as illiterate as a chambermaid, proud, rude, peevish, unable to bear solitude, unable to conduct herself with common decency in society. With this delightful a.s.sociate Frances Burney had to dine and pa.s.s the evening. The pair generally remained together from five to eleven, and often had no other company the whole time. Between eleven and twelve the bell rang again. Miss Burney had to pa.s.s a half hour undressing the queen, and was then at liberty to retire.