The Colonial Cavalier Part 4

A journey being so great an affair, the traveller was of course a marked man, and his arrival at an ordinary was the signal for the gathering of all who could crowd in to hear of his adventures, and also to hear the public and private news of which he might be the bearer. "I have heard Dr.

Franklin relate with great pleasantry," said one of his friends, "that in travelling when he was young, the first step he took for his tranquillity and to obtain immediate attention at the inns, was to antic.i.p.ate inquiry, by saying: 'My name is Benjamin Franklin. I was born at Boston, am a printer by profession, am travelling to Philadelphia, shall have to return at such a time, and have no news. Now what can you give me for dinner?'"

This curiosity was rather peculiar to New England. The Southerner, while perhaps as anxious to hear the news, was more restrained in asking questions. That good breeding and tact which were a Cavalier inheritance, taught him to wait decorously for his news as for his food. A foreigner in the last century, in travelling through the South, came upon a party of Virginians smoking and drinking together on a veranda. He reports that on his ascending the steps to the piazza, every countenance seemed to say, 'This man has a double claim to our attention, for he is a stranger in the place!' In a moment, there was room made for him to sit down; a new bowl was called for, and every one who addressed him did it with a smile of conciliation; but no man asked him whence he had come or whither he was going.

All foreigners bear the same testimony to this universal courtesy, which smoothed rough roads and made travelling enjoyable, in spite of its difficulties and dangers. When I realize what those difficulties were, I am surprised at the willingness with which journeys were undertaken. I read of Washington setting out on a mission to Major-General Shirley in Boston, and riding the whole distance of five hundred miles on horseback in the depth of winter, escorted only by a few servants; yet little is made of his experiences. Women, too, were quite accustomed to riding on long expeditions. An octogenarian described to Irving the horseback journeys of his mother in her scarlet cloth riding-habit. "Young ladies from the country," he said, "used to come to the b.a.l.l.s at Annapolis, riding, with their hoops arranged _fore and aft_ like lateen sails; and after dancing all night, would ride home again in the morning."

Annapolis, before the Revolution, was a centre of gayety. Its rich families came up to town for the season each Fall, and in the Spring moved back to their country-houses with their various belongings. The family coach which was used to transport these possessions was a curious affair to modern eyes. It was colored generally a light yellow, with smart facings. The body was of mahogany, with Venetian windows on each side, projecting lamps, and a high seat upon which coachman and footman climbed at starting.

As this old coach lumbered up and down the streets of Annapolis, its occupants no doubt fancied that they had reached the final limit of speed and comfort in travel, and they looked back with scorn and pity on the primitive conveyances of their ancestors, just as posterity will doubtless look back from their balloons and electric motors on our steam engines. In one of Jefferson's early letters we chance upon a curious prophecy. Being about to make a visit, he asks to be met by his friend's "periagua," as a canoe was called, and suggests that some day a boat may be made, which shall row itself.

After all, I question whether there was not more pleasure in travel in those days, before boats rowed themselves, and when horses were made of flesh and blood instead of iron and steam; when the rider ambled along, noting each tree and shrub, pausing to exchange greetings with every wayfarer, and stopping by night beneath some hospitable roof to make merry over the cup of sack or the gla.s.s of "quince drink" prepared for his refreshment. If the traveller was of a surly and unsocial nature, he was indeed to be pitied; since, for him who would not accept his neighbor's hospitality, there remained only the roadside tavern or "ordinary," and woe to him who was compelled to test its welcome! The universal practice of keeping open-house made the inns poorer in quality, and the contempt of the community for one who would receive money for the entertainment of guests, kept men of repute out of the business.

A Maryland statute, in 1674, resolves "that noe Person in that Province shall have a Licence to keep Ordinary for the future but th{t} he shall give Bond to his Excellency with good Sureties that he shall keep foure good ffeather beds for the Entertainment of Customers." In any place where the county court is held, he is directed to keep "eight ffeather or fflock beds at the least, and ffurniture suitable." The charges of the ordinary-keeper are fixed by law. He is allowed to charge ten pounds of tobacco per meal "for dyet," ten pounds "for small beare," and four "for lodging _in a bed with sheets_."

While the traveller was loitering on the road, enjoying hospitality or enduring ordinaries, those he left at home were in ignorance of his whereabouts; and it was only after days or weeks of anxious waiting, that they could hope to hear of his safe arrival at his destination. Meanwhile rumor, which always thrives in proportion to ignorance, might make their lives miserable by reports of a riderless horse seen galloping into some village, of storms and gales, or of trees crashing across the lonely roads. In the absence of the post and the telegraph, this spreading of false news became so troublesome that an act was pa.s.sed in Maryland declaring that, "Whereas many Idle and Bussie-headed people doe forge and divulge falce Rumors and Reports," it is enacted that they be either fined or "receive such corporall punishment, not extending to life or member, as to the Iustices of that court shall seeme meete."

It was long before the idea of a postal service under government control dawned upon the Colonies. Throughout almost the whole of the seventeenth century letters were sent by the hand of the chance traveller. Maryland directed that in the case of public state-papers the sheriff of one county should carry them to the sheriff of the next, and so on to their goal; but private letters had no such official care.

An old Virginia statute commanded that "all letters superscribed _for the publique service_, should be immediately conveyed from plantation to plantation to the place and person directed, under the penalty of one hogshead of tobacco for each default."

Another law, bearing date 1661, orders that "when there is any person in the family where the letters come, as can write, such person is required to endorse the day and houre he received them, that the neglect or contempt of any person stopping them may be the better knowne and punished accordingly."

A letter in those days merited the attention it received, for it represented a vast deal of labor and expense. Paper was a costly luxury, as we may infer from those old yellow pages crossed and re-crossed with writing, and the tiny cramped hand in which the old sermons are written.

In 1680, I find Colonel William Fitzhugh ordering from London "two large Paper-Books, one to contain about fourteen or fifteen quires of paper, the other about ten quires, and one other small one."

The paper was left blank on one side, and so folded that it formed its own envelope. It was fastened with a seal whose taste and elegance was a matter of pride with the writer. The style was formal, as became the dignity of a person who knew how to write. In those times people did not write letters; they indited epistles. A communication sent across the ocean, in 1614, is addressed "To y{e} Truly Honorable & Right Worthy Knight, S{r} Thomas Smith," and is signed: "At Y{r} Command To Be Disposed of."

Love-letters shared the formality of the time, and were written with a stateliness and elaboration of compliment which suggest a minuet on paper.

Family letters are often in the form of a journal, and cover a period of months. They cost both labor and money but they were worth their price.

Cheap postage has made cheap writing. We no longer compose; we only scribble.

In 1693, Thomas Neale was appointed by royal patent, "postmaster-general of Virginia and _all other parts of North America_." The House of Burgesses pa.s.sed an Act declaring that if post-offices were established in every county, Neale should receive threepence for every letter not exceeding one sheet, or to or from any place not exceeding four score English miles distance.

In 1706, letters were forwarded eight times a year from Philadelphia to the Potomac, and afterward as far as Williamsburg, with the proviso that the post-rider should not start for Philadelphia till he had received enough letters to pay the expenses of the trip.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The average day's journey for a postman covered a distance of some forty miles in Summer, and over good roads; but, when the heavy Autumn rains washed out great gullies in his path or the Winter storms beat him back, he was lucky if he accomplished half that distance. His letters were subject to so many accidents, that it is a wonder they ever reached the persons to whom they were addressed. It was not till the post-office pa.s.sed into Franklin's energetic and methodical hands that it was made regular and trustworthy.

The estimate of the common post in early days is curiously ill.u.s.trated by an episode which occurred in Virginia. The hero was one Mr. Daniel Park, "who," says the chronicle, "to all the other accomplishments that make a complete sparkish gentleman, has added one upon which he infinitely values himself; that is, a quick resentment of every, the least thing, that looks like an affront or injury."

One September morning, when the Governor of Maryland was breakfasting with Mr. Commissary Blair at Middle Plantation, Colonel Park marched in upon them, having a sword about him, much longer than what he commonly travelled with, and which he had caused to be ground sharp in the point that morning. Addressing himself to the Governor of Maryland, he burst out: "Captain Nicholson, did you receive a letter that I sent you from New York?"

"Yes," answered Nicholson, "I received it."

"And was it done like a gentleman," fumed the fiery colonel, "to send that letter by the hand of a common post, to be read by everybody in Virginia?

I look upon it as an affront, and expect satisfaction!"

Fancy the number of affairs of honor that this "complete young sparkish gentleman" would have on hand if he lived in the present year of grace and resented every letter sent him by _the common post_!

There is something which strikes us as infinitely diverting in his suggestion that everybody in Virginia would be interested in his letter.

But perhaps he was nearer the truth than we realize, for in his day all news came through such sources, and a letter was regarded as a good thing, which it would be gross selfishness not to share with one's neighbors. As for a letter from Europe it was an affair of the greatest magnitude, exciting the interest of the whole community.

Those giant folios which entertain us every morning with their gossip from all quarters of the globe had no existence then. Early in the last century, the Colonial Cavalier gleaned all his knowledge of the world and its affairs, from some three-month-old copy of the London papers and magazines, brought over by a British packet. Even this communication, it seems, was uncertain, for complaint is made that the masters of vessels keep the packages till an accidental conveyance offers, and for want of better opportunities frequently commit them to boatmen, who care very little for their goods, so they get their freight.

The colonists had struggled to establish a local journal, and a printing press had been started in Virginia in the seventeenth century, but it had been strangled in its infancy by Berkeley, who declared it the parent of treason and infidelity; and so it came about that the Southern Provinces had no public utterance for their news or their views, till the silence was broken by the voice of Maryland, speaking through her _Gazette_, in 1727, when in all America there were only six rival sheets. Franklin says that his brother's friends tried to dissuade him from publishing _The New England Courant_, on the ground that there was already one newspaper in America. His memory lapsed a little, as _The Courant_ had in fact three predecessors, but the incident shows how little notion there was at that time, of the public demand for news.

In 1736, was first issued _The Virginia Gazette_, a dingy little sheet about twelve by six inches in size, and costing to subscribers, fifteen shillings a year. The newspaper of the day had no editorial page. Its comments on public affairs were in the form of letters, after the fashion of _The Tatler_ and _The Spectator_. It had a poet's corner, where many a young versemaker tried the wings of his Pegasus, and it printed also poetical tributes under the notices of deaths and marriages. In this section, after the record of the wedding of Mr. William Derricoat and Miss Suckie Tomkies, appear these lines:

"Hers the mild l.u.s.tre of the blooming morn And his the radiance of the rising day-- Long may they live and mutually possess A steady love and genuine happiness!"

When Edmund Randolph married Betsey Nicholas, the poet found himself unable to express his emotions in less than two stanzas:

"Exalted theme, too high for common lays!

Could my weak muse with beauty be inspired, In numbers smooth I'd chant my Betsy's praise, And tell how much her Randolph is admired.

"To light the hymeneal torch, since they're resolved, Kind Heaven, I trust, will make them truly blest; And when the Gordian knot shall be dissolved, Translate them to eternal peace and rest."

It is safe to say that this figure, comparing matrimony with a Gordian knot, was original with the poet. Had the bridegroom been as fiery and "sparkish" as Colonel Park, he might have called out the writer, but he seems to have taken it in good part.

The prospectus of the Maryland _Gazette_ for 1745 announces that its price will be twelve shillings a year, or fourteen shillings sealed and delivered. It promises the freshest advices, foreign and domestic, but adds, with much simplicity and candor: "In a dearth of news, which in this remote part of the world may sometimes reasonably be expected, we shall study to supply the deficit by presenting our readers with the best material we can possibly collect, having always due regard to the promotion of virtue and learning, the suppression of vice and immorality, and the instruction as well as entertainment of our readers." What more could the most exacting subscriber demand?

Advertis.e.m.e.nts, then, as now, served the double purpose of filling s.p.a.ce, and supporting the paper. They were charged for, at the rate of five shillings for the first week, and one shilling for each week following, provided they were of moderate length--a vague provision, one would say.

These old advertis.e.m.e.nts are of great value to the student of the life of the past. They give a better picture of the condition of society, than a ream of "notes." Here we read of the shipping of a crew on a packet bound for England. Half-way down the column a lost hog is advertised, and here, Edward Morris, breeches-maker, announces a sale of buckskin breeches, and gloves with high tops, and a.s.sures his customers that "they may depend on kind usage at reasonable rates." Surely the resources of modern advertising have never devised anything more alluring than this promise of "kind usage at reasonable rates."

Since the art of reading was unknown to a considerable proportion of the community, it was natural that pictorial devices should be largely used.

Not only were the shops along the highways distinguished by such signs as "the Blue Glove," and "the Golden Keys," with appropriate ill.u.s.trations; but in the advertising columns of the papers, the print was re-enforced by pictures of ships and horses, and runaway slaves.

The purchase and sale of negroes formed a standing advertis.e.m.e.nt, beneath the caption of an auction-block.

In the Virginia _Gazette_ of August, 1767, we find the following under the curious headline:

"SALE OF A MUSICAL SLAVE."

"A valuable young handsome Negro fellow, about 18 or 20 years of age; has every qualification of a genteel and sensible servant, and has been in many different parts of the world. He shaves, dresses hair, and plays on the French horn. He lately came from London, and has with him two suits of new clothes, which the purchaser may have with him. Inquire at the printing office."

It is hard to understand why the owner should wish to part with a prodigy possessed of so many accomplishments. Perhaps his playing on the French horn is the explanation.

Runaway servants, both black and white, form the subject of many advertis.e.m.e.nts in those old newspapers. In the Maryland _Gazette_ (1769) appears a description in rhyme of the disappearance of an indented servant:

"Last Wednesday morn at break of day, From Philadelphia ran away An Irishman, named John McKeogn.

To fraud and imposition p.r.o.ne, About five feet five inches high; Can curse and swear, as well as lie.

How old he is I can't engage, But forty-five is near his age.

"He oft in conversation chatters Of Scripture and religious matters, And fain would to the world impart That virtue lodges in his heart.

But, take the rogue from stem to stern, The hypocrite you'll soon discern

"And find, though his deportment's civil, A saint without, within a devil.