Southern Literature From 1579-1895 Part 41

In 1861 he entered the Confederate service as one of General T. J.

Jackson's staff, was transferred to that of General J. E. B. Stuart at the death of Jackson in 1863; and after Stuart's death, he was Inspector-General of the horse artillery of the Army of Northern Virginia till the close of the war.

His novels deal with the life and history of Virginia, the best known of them being "Surry of Eagle's Nest," which is said to be partly autobiographical. They hold well the popular favor. His "Stories of the Old Dominion" are specially interesting to Virginians.

WORKS.

Leather Stocking and Silk.

Virginia Comedians.

Last of the Foresters.

Life of Stonewall Jackson.

Surry of Eagle's Nest.

Mohun, or the Last Days of Lee and his Paladins.

Out of the Foam.

Heir of Gaymount.

Dr. Vand.y.k.e.

Pretty Mrs. Gaston, and other Stories.

Professor Pressensee.

Virginia Bohemians.

Virginia: a History of the People.

Maurice Mystery.

Youth of Jefferson.

Ellie.

Henry St. John, Gentleman, sequel to Virginia Comedians.

Wearing of the Gray.

Fairfax, or Greenway Court.

Hilt to Hilt.

Hammer and Rapier [Grant and Lee].

Life of R. E. Lee.

Her Majesty the Queen.

Canolles.

Mr. Grantley's Idea.

Stories of the Old Dominion.

My Lady Pokahontas.

THE RACES IN VIRGINIA, 1765.

(_From Virginia Comedians._[29])

The races!

That word always produces a strong effect upon men in the South; and when the day fixed upon for the Jamestown races comes, the country is alive for miles around with persons of all cla.s.ses and descriptions.

As the hour of noon approaches, the ground swarms with every species of the genus _h.o.m.o_; Williamsburg and the sea-faring village of Jamestown turn out _en ma.s.se_, and leave all occupations for the exciting turf.

As the day draws on the crowd becomes more dense. The splendid chariots of the gentry roll up to the stand, and group themselves around it, in a position to overlook the race-course, and through the wide windows are seen the sparkling eyes and powdered locks, and diamonds and gay silk and velvet dresses of those fair dames who lent such richness and picturesque beauty to the old days dead now so long ago in the far past. The fine-looking old planters too are decked in their holiday suits, their powdered hair is tied into queues behind with neat black ribbon, and they descend and mingle with their neighbors, and discuss the coming festival.

Gay youths, in rich brilliant dresses, caracole up to the carriages on fiery steeds, to display their horsemanship, and exchange compliments with their friends, and make pretty speeches, which are received by the bright-eyed damsels with little ogles, and flirts of their variegated fans, and rapturous delight.

Meanwhile the crowd grows each moment, as the flood pours in from the north, the south, the east, the west--from every point of the compa.s.s, and in every species of vehicle. There are gay parties of the yeomen and their wives and daughters, in carryalls and wagons filled with straw, upon which chairs are placed: there are rollicking fast men--if we may use a word becoming customary in our own day--who whirl in, in their curricles: there are barouches and chairs, spring wagons and carts, all full, approaching in every way from a sober walk to a furious headlong dash, all "going to the races." There are hors.e.m.e.n who lean forward, hors.e.m.e.n who lean back; furious, excited hors.e.m.e.n urging their steeds with whip and spur; cool, quiet hors.e.m.e.n, who ride erect and slowly; there are, besides, pedestrians of every cla.s.s and appearance, old and young, male and female, black and white--all going to the races.

The hour at last arrives, and a horn sounding from the judges' stand, the horses are led out in their blankets and head-coverings, and walked up and down before the crowd by their trainers, who are for the most part old gray-headed negroes, born and raised, to the best of their recollection, on the turf. The riders are n.o.ble scions of the same ancient stock, and average three feet and a half in height, and twenty pounds in weight. They are clad in ornamental garments; wear little close-fitting caps; and while they are waiting, sit huddled up in the gra.s.s, sucking their thumbs, and talking confidentially about "them there hosses."

Let us look at the objects of their attention; they are well worth it.

Mr. Howard enters the bay horse _Sir Archy_, out of Flying d.i.c.k, by Roderick.

Mr. James enters _Fair Anna_, a white mare, dam Virginia, sire Belgrave.

Captain Waters enters the Arabian horse _Selim_, descended in a direct line, he is informed, from Al-borak, who carried the prophet Mahomet up to heaven--though this pedigree is not vouched for. The said pedigree is open to the inspection of all comers. _Note_--That it is written in Arabic.

There are other entries, but not much attention is paid to them. The race will be between Sir Archy and Fair Anna, and perhaps the outlandish horse will not be "distanced."

"Prepare the horses!" comes from the judges' stand opposite.

Captain Ralph Waters leaves the ladies with a gallant bow, and pushes his way through the swaying and excited crowd, toward the spot where the animals are being saddled.

A tremendous hurly-burly reigns there; men of all cla.s.ses, boys, negroes, gentlemen, indented servants,--all are betting with intense interest. The dignified grooms endeavor to keep back the crowd:--the owners of the horses give their orders to the microscopic monkeys who are to ride. . . . . . The riders are raised by one leg into the saddles; they gather up the reins; the drum taps; they are off like lightning.

The course is a mile in circ.u.mference, and they go round it before the excited crowd can look at them a dozen times. They whirl past the stand, and push on again.

Sir Archy leads; Fair Anna trails on a hard rein; the Arabian is two lengths behind; but he is not running.

They thunder up the quarter stretch: Sir Archy is bounding, like some diabolical monster, far before his companions, spite of his owner's cries; the Arabian has come up and locks the mare; they run neck and neck. Sir Archy whirls past the stand, and wins by a hundred yards.

The immense crowd utters a shout that shakes the surrounding forest. . . . . . . .

The horses are again enveloped in their hoods and blankets. Captain Ralph returns to the Riverhead carriage, [that of the Lees, in which were Miss Henrietta Lee and her sister Clare.]

"Any more betting, sir?" says Miss Henrietta, satirically.

"Who, I?"

"Yes, sir."

"a.s.suredly!" says the Captain; "do not think, _chere ma'm'selle_, that I am very much cast down. I am so far from that, I a.s.sure you, that I am ready to take the field again."

"Well, sir."

"Then you will bet again, madam?"

"Yes, indeed."

"_Bien!_ I now stake all that is left me in the world--though not quite. I stake my horse, Selim, against the curl and the pair of gloves you wear, with the knot of ribbons at your girdle thrown in--all upon the final issue."

Henrietta blushes; for, however common such gallant proposals were at that day, she cannot misunderstand the meaning of the soldier's glance, and reddens beneath it.

"That would be unfair, sir."