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SIX MONTHS
IN
AMERICA.
[Illustration:
G.T. Vigne, delṭ T. S. Engleheart, sculpṭ
LOCKS ON THE RIDEAU CANAL, AT BYTOWN, ON THE OTTAWA RIVER.
_Published by Whittaker & C^o. April 10, 1832._]
SIX MONTHS
IN
AMERICA.
BY
GODFREY T. VIGNE, ESQ.
OF LINCOLN’S INN, BARRISTER AT LAW.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
WHITTAKER, TREACHER, & CO.
AVE MARIA LANE.
1832.
LONDON:
Manning and Co., Printers, 4, London House Yard,
St. Pauls.
SIX MONTHS IN AMERICA.
I now left Washington to proceed to Harper’s ferry. The English and
American ideas of the picturesque are widely different. The Englishman,
who sees enough of cultivation in his own country, travels to other
lands in search of wilder scenery, and gazes with delight on the
immense forests of America. The American would readily dispense
with the romantic, and wonders that every body is not like himself,
an admirer, by preference, of a rail-road, a canal, or a piece of
newly cleared ground. Excellent as these are in their way, I really
believe that the Americans, of the middle and lower class, regard them
not merely with reference to their beneficial effects, but as the
_ne plus ultra_ of the beautiful. When I inquired which was the
prettiest road towards Harper’s ferry, “Go by such a road,” was the
reply; “it runs by the side of the canal, sir.” However, it so happened
that the canal-road lay also along the bank of the Potomac, and the
scenery certainly was very pretty. At a distance of two miles from the
road, and thirteen or fourteen from Washington, are the Great Falls of
the Potomac. I did not turn out of my way to see them; I have seen a
great many, and purposed visiting Niagara.
After all I had heard, I must say, that I was disappointed with
Harper’s ferry. The Shenandoah and Potomac rivers unite at the foot
of the Blue Mountains, through which they have forced, or rather
worn a passage; but the rivers are of the same width. The mountains,
composed of limestone, and schistose rocks, are of moderate and uniform
elevation, and they appear to be perfectly acquiescent, while the
stream glides in silent triumph over its smooth though rocky channel,
without the least appearance of exasperation.
I visited the United States’ arsenal, containing 70,000 stand of arms.
The chief armourer was an old Englishman, who served at the battles
of Alexandria and Trafalgar. I observed that, with the exception
of the ramrod and touchhole, which was of brass, every part of the
musket, lock, barrel, and bayonet, was browned. They were not ranged
in order, as in other arsenals, but were kept in boxes, so that there
was no display whatever. From the arsenal I proceeded to Captain
Hall’s manufactory of patent rifles. With one of these, after a little
practice, a man may load and fire eight or nine times in a minute. The
arrangement is very simple. The barrel appears to have been divided
from the breech with a fine saw. The breech is raised by means of a
hinge and a spring, which is struck by the hand, and when loaded is
immediately shut down, so as to form part of the barrel, similar to
that of a screw pistol. The great advantage gained by the invention of
this rifle is, that with it a soldier can load, and defend himself with
his bayonet at the same time.
There are also some large saw mills here well worth the attention of
the traveller.
I proceeded up the well-cultivated valley of the Shenandoah, and
arrived at Winchester, a neat and considerable town; thence to a
good inn in the middle of the forest. In my way I crossed the sandy
ridge and the Capon Mountains, though they hardly deserve such a
name, being, to all appearance, scarcely higher than the Wrekin in
Shropshire. I breakfasted at Romney, a pretty village on the south
bank of the Potomac. A little farther on, the road is frowned upon
by an overhanging rock of bastard lime-stone: its appearance is very
singular. The strata are disposed in arches one within the other, so
that, with the aid of fancy, its surface may be thought to resemble the
solid frame-work of a stupendous bridge. The highest arch, to which the
others are parallel, is nearly semi-circular with a radius of 270 feet.
When the mail, in which I was travelling, arrived at the north branch
of the Potomac, we found it so swollen by the late rains that a
passage seemed not only dangerous but impracticable. The coachman,
however, a cool and determined fellow, crossed over on horseback; he
then returned, placed one of the passengers on the near leader, and
resolutely drove his four horses into the torrent, which was sixty or
seventy yards in width, running like a mill-race, and so deep that
it reached nearly up to the backs of the horses. I was with him on
the box. The inside passengers pulled off their coats, and prepared
to swim. The water forced itself into the coach; but we reached the
opposite bank without disaster. On the preceding evening the coachman
had only prevented the mail from being entirely carried away, by
turning the horses’ heads down the stream, so that the coach and horses
were swimming for nearly thirty yards. I think the American coachmen,
in general, are good drivers: the horses are well adapted to their
work, and in fine condition: in summer they are allowed any quantity
of oats they can eat, and in winter a little Indian corn is mixed
with them. It is too heating to be much used in the stable during the
summer months; one feed of Indian corn is supposed to contain as much
nourishment as two of oats. The coaches stop every five or six miles,
and the horses drink at least half a pail of water; they could not work
without it on a hot day. The roads in the country would puzzle the most
experienced English coachman; they are often execrably bad,—and require
making, not mending,—with the roots of trees sticking up in the middle
of the road. The expense of finishing good roads through the forest
would be enormous, far too great to be borne at present; but in the
neighbourhood of the large towns I have sometimes seen them in a state
of inexcusable neglect.
Cumberland is delightfully situated in the valley of the Potomac,
surrounded by lofty hills, out-topped by the distant Alleghany, which
had appeared in sight towards the close of the day.
Virginia is famous for its breed of horses. Till I passed through that
state I had not seen a horse with at all the shape and figure of an
English hunter; but in Virginia I have seen horses on the road, and
brood mares in the pastures, displaying a great deal of blood and
symmetry. In all parts of the Union which I visited, a well-bred horse
is termed a “blooded horse:” but the Americans are quite at liberty
to use what terms they please. Besides the paces usually known in
England, the horse in the United States is valuable according to his
performances as a square or natural trotter, a pacer, or a racker. A
racker is a beast that can trot before, and canter behind, at the same
time. The recommendations of a pacer are, that he moves his fore and
hind legs on the same side at the same time, like a cameleopard. When
hiring a hack, you are questioned as to which you would prefer. As
there is no fox-hunting, a fast trotter is considered the most valuable
animal next to the racer. A horse that can trot a mile in two minutes
and a half, is not thought very extraordinary.
At Cumberland I joined the high road or “turnpike,” between Baltimore
and Pittsburgh, and soon afterwards I began the ascent of the Alleghany
for the second time. The road passes over Keyser’s ridge, one of the
highest parts of the mountain, rising to a height of 2800 feet above
the level of the western rivers. The mountain presented the same
distant and interminable forest view that I beheld when I passed over
it in Pennsylvania; but in that state, there were more patches of
cultivated land to be seen here and there in the vicinity of the high
road. Silence and tranquillity to a degree I never before witnessed,
are, I think, the prevailing characteristics of the American forests,
where the Indian is no longer an inhabitant. They are dark, but never
gloomy, excepting where they are composed of pine trees: they are
solitary, and are silent as the grave, without inspiring horror. They
are curious and interesting to the European traveller. In Europe the
eye is frequently attracted by the ancient relics of feudal grandeur,
or the formidable structures of modern, and more civilized warfare. But
the wild scenery of America is dependent for its interest on nature,
and nature only; the mountain pass is without banditti, the forest is
without fastness, and the glens and glades are quiet and legendless.
I was never tired of the forest scenery, although I passed through
it day after day. The endless diversity of foliage always prevents
it from being monotonous. Sycamores and tulip trees of most gigantic
dimensions, are to be seen on the banks of the smaller rivers, or
creeks, as they are termed in the United States. With the more stately
trees of the forest are mingled the sassafras, the gum-tree, the
hickory, and many others that are new to the European eye. But the
most beautiful sight is afforded by the wild vine that entwines itself
round the acacia, and covers every branch of it with a green tile-work,
extended in festoons to the nearest trees; like those which are to be
seen in the vineyards of Italy.
Soon after passing the Alleghany, I was shown the remains of an old
entrenchment in a meadow on the left of the road: it was formed by
Washington, then a Colonel in the British service, when pursued by the
Indians after the defeat of General Braddock. A little further on, on
the right hand, on the bank of a small stream, I saw the spot where
the General was buried on the 9th of July, 1755; having neglected
the precautions recommended by Colonel Washington, who offered to
scour the forest alongside his line of march with the provincial
troops; he was attacked by the Indians in a defile on the banks of
the Monongahela, when within about ten miles of Fort du Quesne, at
Pittsburgh, then occupied by the French, and which he was marching to
besiege: his bravery was of little use; all the officers about his
person were killed, he had five horses shot under him, and at last he
himself received a mortal wound. He was conveyed away by his retreating
soldiers; but soon afterwards died, and was buried in the middle of
the road, and the wagons and horses were allowed to pass over his
grave, in order to conceal the spot from the pursuing Indians. With
his dying breath he acknowledged to Colonel Washington the error he
had committed in not following his advice. He presented him with his
horse, and gave his parting injunction to an old and faithful attendant
to enter into the service of Colonel Washington, and remain with him
till the day of his death. Fort Du Quesne was afterwards taken by
General Forbes, and the name was changed to Fort Pitt, in compliment
to the British minister. The magazine and part of the wall, are all
that remain of it at present, and are to be seen near the point of
confluence of the rivers at Pittsburgh.
At Washington town, I attended a black Methodist meeting; they are to
be found in every considerable town in the Union, but I had never seen
one before. The preacher was a half-cast, or quarteroon, as the negroes
call them, and he and his congregation were all ranters; he talked the
most incoherent nonsense, and worked himself up to such a pitch of
frenzy, that his appearance was almost that of a maniac. At intervals I
was nearly stunned by the noise he made; and I could not help thinking
of the speech of the frogs in the fable, who said to the boy as he
pelted them, “It may be very good fun for _you_, but _we_
really find it exceedingly disagreeable.”
As I approached Pittsburgh the forest became less extensive, and the
country exhibited a more general appearance of cultivation, although
it may be broadly asserted that the Americans are at least fifty years
behind us in agriculture; yet there are many gentlemen’s estates on
which more than ordinary care and labour have been bestowed, and
which, consequently, are far in advance of others. I observed some good
farming adjacent to the road. Some part of the country I am speaking
of, might have been mistaken for the more wooded parts of England, had
it not been for the worm or zigzag fence which is in universal use
throughout the United States, and offers but a poor apology for the
English hedge row, although they are sometimes composed of cedar logs.
Pittsburgh is built on the confluence of the Alleghany and Monongahela
rivers, both of them being about a quarter of a mile in width, whose
united streams form the Ohio. They are both passed by a fine wooden
bridge.
The city contains 12,000 inhabitants; but if the suburbs are included
in the calculation, its population will amount to nearly 23,000. It
may be called the western capital of Pennsylvania. It manufactures
annually about 18,000 tons of iron, and the same quantity of steel.
It has also an extensive manufactory of cotton and glass. Bituminous
coal is found in the greatest plenty in the neighbourhood, and in
consequence of the smoke and black dust from the manufactories, the
shopkeepers complain that it is impossible to keep any thing clean.
I entered Pittsburgh on the 4th of July, on which day, as every one
knows, the Declaration of Independence was signed at Philadelphia. It
is, of course, always and universally a day of rejoicing in the United
States. The militia are called out, a public dinner is always given
in every town and village in the Union, and an appropriate oration
is delivered by the appointed orator of the day. I regretted I did
not arrive in time to be present at the dinner, which had taken place
under the shade of some trees on the opposite side of the Alleghany,
but I heard a great number of sentiments delivered, without being
drank. Any bystander wrote an idea upon a slip of paper and handed it
to the orator, who read it aloud to the company. They were all more or
less patriotic, but usually couched in the most ridiculous bombastic
language. The cause of reform in England, was a frequent theme of
eulogy. William the reformer was applauded as being more glorious than
William the Conqueror. Henry Brougham was coupled with Henry Clay, and
a drunken Irishman requested “parmission to give a woluntary toast,”
and lauded his majesty to the skies, in terms which I cannot pretend to
recollect.
On this day died, at New York, James Monroe, the fifth president of the
United States, having twice held that office from 1817 to 1825. His
eulogy was spoken by Mr. Adams, who appears to be the orator-general
upon such occasions, and who, in the true spirit of republicanism,
thinks it no degradation to take his seat as a member of congress after
having once filled the president’s chair. Mr. Monroe was five years
of age at the date of the Stamp Act. At an early age he joined the
standard of Washington, when others were deserting it. He was present
at the celebrated passage of the Delaware at Trenton, was wounded in
the subsequent engagement, and was afterwards present in the actions
of Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth. He took his seat in the
federal congress in June 1783, at the age of twenty-four. He was at
first opposed to the adoption of the articles of the constitution,
believing them to be imperfect, and of little remedial efficacy;
although he was decidedly in favour of some important change in the
existing government under the articles of confederation. Mr. Monroe
was appointed by President Washington, the minister plenipotentiary to
the court of France, and was received with splendid formality by the
national convention; but being unsuccessful in his negociations, he was
recalled, and Mr. Pinkney appointed in his place. He was afterwards
appointed governor of Virginia. When Napoleon had 20,000 veterans
assembled at Helvoet-sluys, ready for embarkation to Louisiana. Mr.
Monroe was sent over by President Jefferson on a special commission. On
his arrival, the war between Great Britain and France was rekindling,
and the danger to Louisiana was averted. In conjunction with Mr.
Pinkney, the then United States’ minister at Madrid, he concluded the
treaty by which Louisiana was ceded to the United States, in the year
1803. This state was in the possession of the Spaniards from 1762 till
1800, when it was again ceded to the French, the original settlers. The
United States paid 15,000,000 of dollars for it; Mr. Monroe afterwards
went to England as minister plenipotentiary, he was present in Paris at
the coronation of Napoleon. He returned to the United States in 1807,
and became secretary of state in 1811, and afterwards secretary at war.
In 1817 he was elected president, and was re-elected in 1821 without
opposition. His opinion on the subject of internal improvements, was,
that a power of establishing a general system of internal improvement
had not been delegated to congress, and he returned a bill to the
house, in which it originated, with a justification of his exercise
of prerogative, in an able and elaborate exposition of the reasons
for the refusal of his assent. It is a very singular fact, that Mr.
Monroe is the third out of four deceased presidents, who have died on
the 4th July. The circumstances attending the deaths of Presidents
Jefferson and John Adams were very extraordinary. A committee of five
was originally appointed to draw up the articles of the constitution.
Jefferson and Adams were selected as a sub-committee, and were in fact
the real framers of the constitution. These two gentlemen died on the
4th of July, in the same year, and the news of their decease arrived
at exactly the same time on the same day, at Philadelphia, where the
Declaration of Independence was signed.
From Pittsburgh I rode to Braddock’s field. It was pointed out to me
about three hundred yards from the bank of the Monongahela. The ground
has been considerably cleared since the action took place; but it
seems to have been admirably adapted to the Indian mode of warfare,
on account of the undulating surface of the field, that enabled the
Indians, with the aid of the forest with which it was then covered, to
lie in ambush, and fire without being perceived. When, as a child, I
used to read the account of this sanguinary conflict, as narrated by
the highlander in the history of “Sandford and Merton,” little did I
dream that I should ever stand upon the field of battle.
From Pittsburg, I proceeded for fifteen miles down the western bank of
the Ohio to Economy, a German settlement, under the superintendence
of Mr. Rapp, conducted on a system somewhat resembling that of Mr.
Owen of Lanark. The members call themselves the “Brothers;” and have a
community of property. Any person, of any country, however poor, may
become a member, by conforming to the rules, and submitting to learn
one of the trades or other occupations which are taught in the society.
If he be weary of its regulations, he is at liberty to leave it, and
takes with him, from the public fund, all that he brought into it: his
earnings, during his stay, becoming general property. It is open on
the same terms, even to the entirely destitute. The town is regularly
built, and extremely neat: there are 4000 acres of land belonging to
the establishment, cultivated by the members, and at the expense of
the society; they have a good museum, an admirable band, and public
concerts twice in the week. The “Brothers” are chiefly Lutherans, from
Wirtenberg, where I understood they originally attempted to form a
society of the same kind, but it became obnoxious to the government,
and was suppressed. Mr. Rapp himself is a Lutheran clergyman, and
preaches the doctrine of brotherly love. His first settlement was
on the Wabash river, several hundred miles to the south; but he sold
the place to Mr. Owen, whose philanthropic exertions were, as usual,
unattended with success. Mr. Rapp occasionally goes to Philadelphia, in
search of recruits amongst the latest importations from Germany; and it
will be readily believed, that he enlists none but his own countrymen
to undergo this voluntary confinement, and second schooling. It is
scarcely necessary to mention, that marriage and a continuance in the
society, are incompatible. It is said, that Mr. Rapp’s system has been
sufficiently successful to cheat him into the idea, that his calling,
if not of the prophetic, is, at least, of the patriarchal order.
At Economy, I joined the passing steam-boat for Maysville. For about
a hundred and fifty miles of its course, the average width of the
Ohio is not greater than that of the Thames at Vauxhall bridge. It is
often very low; and not navigable for steam-boats. The water is then
extremely clear; but when I saw it, the river had been swelled by the
late rains, and was very muddy. The surface of its unruffled and rapid
stream was nearly covered by trunks of trees, which had been washed
down by the torrents from the forests, and rendered it often necessary
to stop the engine, in order to prevent accidents to the paddles. In
our passage down the river we passed, amongst others, Blennerhasset’s
Island, so called from its having been the residence of a person of
that name, who had involved himself in the supposed conspiracy of
Colonel Barr, who, in 1806, fitted out an armed expedition on the
Ohio, with which he intended either to make a hostile incursion into
the Spanish territories, or, according to the more general belief, to
make himself master of New Orleans, with a view to the formation of an
independent power. Blennerhasset had beautified the island at a great
expense, but his property was confiscated by order of government.
We passed Wheeling, a town containing about 6000 inhabitants, and
manufactories of the same kind as those at Pittsburg. At this place, it
is said, that the Baltimore and Ohio rail-road is to come in contact
with the river.
Maysville is a much prettier town, with a more picturesque situation;
and looks well, in spite of its red houses. I ascended a hill whence I
had a fine view of the Ohio, which is here above a quarter of a mile
in width. It is observable of its banks, that they never rise to any
height, directly from the water, on both sides of the river at the same
time. If they are abrupt on the one side, the opposite shore is sure
to display a fine strip of cultivated land intervening between the
hills and the river, in the back ground. Near Portsmouth, on the Ohio,
is a slip of ground containing 4000 acres, the whole of it planted
with Indian corn, but it is hidden from the view of the steam-boat
passengers by the trees on the margin of the river.
About twenty-four miles from Maysville, on the road to Lexington, is a
very fine sulphureous spring, called “the Blue Lick.” There are several
houses in the neighbourhood for the accommodation of visiters, who
resort thither for the benefit of the water.
Lexington is the neatest country town I had yet seen in the United
States; the streets are regular and spacious, and delightfully shaded
by acacia trees, which are planted before every house: it contains
about 6000 inhabitants. Although comfortable and cheerful in its
appearance, Lexington is the only place of note in the United States,
whose prosperity, for several years, has been on the decline. It could
boast of excellent society; but being an inland town, and supported
only by the surrounding country, it is now paying the penalty for
having enlarged itself beyond its means of supply. One additional
cause of its decline is the great increase of steam navigation on
the Ohio and Mississippi, which affords so much greater facility to
travellers going to New Orleans than the land route, which runs through
Lexington. A college which had been established here did not answer the
expectations of its founders, and a few years since was unfortunately
burnt.
Till lately the greatest confusion prevailed through the whole of
Kentucky, in consequence of the complicated state of titles to
landed property, which has considerably retarded the advance of its
prosperity. Lands were sold by the government of Virginia before
the separation of Kentucky from that state, without having been
previously surveyed and marked out. The consequence was, that four
or five different persons entered with their warrants of possession,
as purchasers of the same lots, where, in many cases, their interest
had already been sold and re-sold. The endless litigation occasioned
by this state of affairs produced a law, limiting the time of action
to seven years, after which the occupier was to remain in undisputed
possession of the property.
The system of country banks has been still more ruinous to Lexington,
and the state of Kentucky generally. They were first established
towards the end of the year 1817. The persons principally connected
with them were members of the legislature; about forty of them were
opened with, of course, a very limited capital, but an unlimited
supply of paper. The establishment of the branch bank of the United
States obliged them to pay in specie, and the consequence was the
greatest embarrassment in their affairs. The directors enacted what
laws they pleased, to save themselves from the impending ruin: they
abolished imprisonment for debt, and passed what were called stay
laws,—general and particular enactments, which extended the time of
payment; a desperate mode of proceeding, and which only served to
plunge them deeper in the mire. Those who were of opinion that payment
of debts, contracted at a time when paper was the only currency,
could not now be demanded in specie, contrived to get a law passed
establishing a new court, filled by judges whose opinions coincided
with their own, and who were removable at pleasure. The decisions
of this court were at variance with those of the old one, and a new
and old court party immediately arose. The judges of the new court,
however, immediately resigned. Public and private credit is still at
a low ebb, and the ultimate ruin of many of the leading families in
the state, who are connected with the banks, appears, I was informed,
almost unavoidable.
A rail-road to Louisville is shortly to be commenced, which will, no
doubt, much benefit the town and surrounding country. At the distance
of a mile stands the English-looking residence of Henry Clay, Esq.,
whose public services are too well known to need any remark here.
I visited several caves in this neighbourhood; that called Russell’s
cave, distant about six miles, is most worthy of attention. It is
three quarters of a mile in length, formed in a rock, composed of
innumerable strata of marine shells, embedded in lime-stone. The action
of water, occasioning an immense pressure, is evident at first sight.
A delicious spring issues from the cave, which unfortunately was so
swollen as to prevent my entrance. Three miles hence, I observed two
Indian forts. The larger is surrounded by a trench, which is now about
seven feet deep and three quarters of an inch in length. In the swollen
one the ditch is considerably deeper and more distinct, encircling it
on every side, excepting where an entrance, wide enough to admit a
carriage, has been left untouched by the spade.
At Lexington, I was much amused at the master-aping manners of the
slaves. They give themselves great airs. On Sundays they either hire
hacks, or more commonly ride their masters’ horses. I saw dozens of
them, attended by their females, playing the agreeable on horseback,
and “doing a bit of park” “à la militaire.” The slaves of the southern
states are a very happy race. In some places their numbers constitute
a “plaie politique,” equally troublesome, and far more formidable,
than the system of poor laws in England. In many places they far
outnumber the whites, who are obliged to use great precautions, and
restrict their slaves in many particulars. About twenty years ago a
conspiracy was formed by the negroes at Lexington: a house was to be
set on fire, and whilst every one repaired to the spot, they were to
take possession of a large stand of arms kept at the inn, and the
defenceless crowd were to be fired upon. The bank was to be plundered,
and the town burnt. The conspiracy was discovered by a negress, who, on
the preceding evening, told her master that the leaders were below, in
deliberation, and that if he would listen, he would be convinced of the
truth of what she said. He did so, and they were taken into custody.
There are still such animals in existence as slave merchants, but
they are not numerous. Slaves are purchased in different parts of the
country, and sent down the Mississippi to the sugar plantations at New
Orleans. An able-bodied young negro is worth three hundred dollars, and
the merchant is encouraged in his brutal traffic by a sure market, and
a profit of at least thirty-five, and frequently of forty or forty-five
per cent., after deducting the necessary expenses for food and
clothing, and making allowances for losses by death and accident. Three
or four years back, one of these men and his assistants were murdered
on the Mississippi by a cargo of slaves, who spared no torture that
could be applied by means of fire and steel.
In Virginia, if a black is freed by his master he is presented as a
nuisance by the grand jury, and generally is not allowed to remain in
the state. In Kentucky, a freed man cannot leave his native county
without quitting the state entirely; and a master who emancipates his
slave, is obliged to give security to the county for his maintenance.
Even a white man, who would be called a vagrant in England, is there
liable, not only to be taken up but to be sold, for two or three
months, to the highest bidder, who has the power of treating him as a
slave, if he refuse to work. When any ship arrives at Charleston in
South Carolina, the police immediately go on board, and have the power
of arresting the black cook, or any free negro they find there, who is
placed in confinement till the ship is ready to put to sea again. So
jealous are they of the presence of a free negro, that a master is not
permitted to emancipate his slave without sending him out of the state;
and if a slave has left South Carolina, in the capacity of valet with
his master, and has once obtained his liberty, by setting foot in a
free state, he is never allowed to return. At Washington, the sound of
the slave auctioneer’s hammer may be heard within a short distance of
the capitol. In Virginia, the country of Hampden-Sydney College, the
slave population amounted, in 1830, to 469,724, being larger than that
of any other state, and bearing a proportion to the whites of rather
less than four to six. In Georgia there is a county, most appropriately
called Liberty County, where the slave population is to the whites as
five to one.
The slave children are not instructed to read or write at the expense
of their masters; if they enjoy these advantages, they have been taught
by persons of their own colour. If they could write, they would forge
their pass-papers, and run away; and those who can, are always ready
to do this for those who cannot. The slave population could not be
educated, and remain long in a state of bondage. Its march of intellect
would be stronger and more terrible than the fire in the vast American
forests which it would traverse: to check it is impossible, and flight
is unavailing; so that the only means of avoiding destruction is to add
vigour, and give direction to the flame.
Chè più facil sarìa svolger il corso
Presso Cariddi alla volubil onda,
O tardar Borea allor che scote il dorso
Dell’ Appennino, e i legni in mare affonda.
The apparent advantage of procuring labour for nothing is often far
outweighed by the consequences arising from the idle and careless
manners of the slaves, and the expense incurred in their maintenance.
Two white men will easily perform the work of three negroes, when the
weather is not intolerably hot. They do as little as they can for
their masters; but on a holiday they will work for each other like
real slaves. Even an unaccustomed eye would recognize a slave district
by the slovenly appearance of the farms, and of every thing connected
with them. The residence of the slaves is usually at some little
distance from the dwelling-house of their master. The quarter, as it
is termed, consists of a number of small huts, with a larger house
for the overseer, and will sometimes contain three hundred or four
hundred negroes, with their families, and all more or less distantly
related to each other. An arable farm will scarcely pay, unless its
superintendent be a man of skill, firmness, and perseverance. So much
depends upon him, that if he be a person of that character, a good
farm, one year with another, will return a profit of eight or ten
per cent.; but it is usually not so large, and is never equal to the
emolument of an attentive agriculturist in the northern states, where
slaves are unknown.
By the last census, the total population of the United States was
12,856,165: of these 2,010,436 were slaves, existing only in what are
termed the southern states, of which Maryland is the most northerly. It
is said, that supposing an inclination to secede from the Union should
be prevalent in the southern states, the danger they would incur from
their inability to defend themselves against their black population,
would be a sufficient reason for their thinking twice on the subject.
There can be no doubt, that the slaves, with an offer of liberty, would
prove a most formidable weapon in the hands of an enemy. This, however,
is not very likely to take place, at least not as yet. Before I quitted
America a partial insurrection had taken place in Virginia, in which
sixty or seventy persons were brutally massacred by the negroes; and
it is most probable that the state legislature will consider of some
measures by which the superabundant slave population may be effectually
disposed of. Their attention will probably be directed to the colony
of Liberia, on the windward coast in Africa, hitherto supported
exclusively by the funds and management of the colonization society,
which provides vessels for the transportation of slaves manumitted
on condition of their departure for that place. Within the last few
years two or three hundred negroes have been annually sent out of the
country in this manner. The capital of the colony, which is defended
by a garrison, is called Monrovia, because it was founded during the
presidency of Mr. Monroe. The blacks support themselves by traffic with
the natives, and by cultivating the soil.
* * * * *
I really think I had not seen more than one or two ponds in the United
States, before I entered the state of Kentucky; there, they are
common enough, and plenty of bull-frogs may usually be heard grunting
in the mud on their margins. With the aid of a little fancy, there
is certainly some truth in the assertion, that the noise they make
resembles the words “blood and ’ounds,” repeated in a very deep and
coarse human voice.
I confess that I had formed an erroneous idea of Kentucky, at least,
of that part of it through which I passed. Contrary to my expectations,
I found the land as much cleared as in any state I had previously seen.
The soil is very rich in many parts; and will produce five or six crops
of Indian corn or wheat, in successive years, without the assistance
of manure. It is a positive fact, that the grazing farmers will not
unfrequently pull down and remove the sheds in the fields, sooner than
incur the trouble and expense of clearing away the quantity of manure
that has accumulated in them. Labour is dear, and land is cheap; so
that a farmer who can clear good fresh land whenever he pleases, has
no inducement to be at the expense which is necessarily laid out on a
farm in England, before it is rendered sufficiently productive. The
dressing of land, by laying on manure or otherwise improving it, would,
in Kentucky, be considered generally, a waste of labour. Hemp is the
staple article of produce in this state.
The finest specimens of American forest scenery are to be found in
Kentucky: the oaks and sycamores, in particular, grow to an immense
size, and throw a delicious shade on the soil beneath; which is
often free from all kinds of underwood, and covered with a carpet of
greensward,—affording the finest pasture ground imaginable to great
numbers of cattle, which are constantly grazing there. I was forcibly
reminded of the beautiful description in the opening scene of “Ivanhoe.”
I had resolved to visit the great Mammoth cave in Kentucky, distant
about 120 miles from Lexington, on the right of the Nashville road. I
accordingly proceeded in that direction, and soon arrived on the banks
of the Kentucky river. I considered this ferry as a most beautiful
specimen of Indian scenery. The river is here seventy or eighty yards
across, and flows with a dark and quiet stream, between two very high
cliffs, whose bold, bare, limestone fronts are seen to great advantage,
as they rise above the mass of forest, that intervenes between their
base and the water. It bore some resemblance to Swinsund ferry, on the
frontier of Sweden and Norway, although certainly inferior.
Shaker’s town is occupied as the name implies, by persons of that sect.
One of their number, which amounts to a few hundreds, is an architect,
and this accounts for the superior build of their houses. From Glasgow,
a cross road conducted me to Bell’s tavern, a solitary house standing
at the meeting of the Lexington and Louisville roads, to Nashville,
in the midst of what are called “the barrens.” These barrens, it is
supposed by many, were originally Prairies, or “Pararas,” as they are
called by the lower class of Americans, but are now principally covered
by dwarf oaks. Wild turkeys, deer, pheasants, and the bird called
the barren hen, which is also the prairie hen, and the grouse of the
northern and middle states, are found in the barrens; cougars, wolves,
foxes, &c. are also to be met with there. At Bell’s tavern, which, by
the way, is a very comfortable little country inn, I procured horses
and a guide, and set out for the Mammoth cave. After an agreeable
and shady ride of seven miles, I arrived at a small lonely log house
tavern, built about a hundred yards from the mouth of the great cave.
There are several smaller caves in the neighbourhood; but the only
one of these I visited was the white cave; of no extent, but curious,
on account of the number, and diversified shape of its stalactitic
formations, formed by the depositions of water, dropping through the
limestone rock.
Immediately in front of the inn, begins a narrow path winding down a
dark ravine, which conducts to the cave. Its entrance is overshadowed
by the dark foliage of the surrounding trees, and its appearance
altogether is exceedingly gloomy, and calculated to inspire a feeling
of horror. The presence of two beautiful humming birds very much
heightened by contrast the effects of the scene. They were darting in
all directions, as quickly as the eye could follow; sometimes passing
with the greatest rapidity across the mouth of the cave, or remaining
for an instant, motionless in the air, as they sipped, on the wing, of
the water that was incessantly dripping from the projecting rock. I
could not but think of the incantation scene in “Der Freychütze.”
The very sudden encounter of cold air at the mouth of the cave, is more
agreeable than safe during the hot weather. Not that the air itself
is damp or unwholesome; on the contrary, it is particularly dry and
healthy. I have been told of its acting as a febrifuge, and can easily
believe it. A great quantity of salt-petre was made there during the
late war. The works still remain, but have not been used for many
years. The salt was procured by pouring water over a wooden trough,
filled with the earth from the cave, which, when saturated, was allowed
to run off; was then boiled, and the salt separated by vaporization. By
this process, two pounds of salt-petre were procured from one bushel
of earth. The air is so highly impregnated with the saline particles,
that meat, butter, cheese, and many other substances, after remaining
a short time in the cave, become of a bright red colour, and are
unfit for use. I was attended by an old man, and two boys, sons of the
landlord, each of us carrying a small lamp, with an additional supply
of grease to trim them. The rock is very low near the entrance, but
soon expands to a magnificent size. The average width and height may be
about seventy feet, but in some places it is more lofty, and far wider.
I first visited an antechamber, and walked a mile before I reached the
end, where there is a small but curious waterfall, that has worked
its way into the side of the rock in a serpentine direction. Sulphur,
red and yellow ochre, may be picked up there; and gum borax, sulphate
of magnesia, and sulphate of soda, are found adhering to the walls
in considerable quantities, but not in every part. We returned from
the antechamber and proceeded up the principal part of the cave. The
roof and sides were but little broken, and in general their evenness
and regularity of angle were surprising. The walking was very good at
first; but our passage was soon impeded and rendered fatiguing, by
the enormous number of loose blocks of limestone, that were heaped up
on every side. At intervals we came to a small pyramid composed of
broken fragments, raised by the aborigines, who have left traces of
their existence throughout the whole of North America. I pulled down
one of them, and found only the remains of a fire; similar marks are
to be seen on the bare rock in many parts of the cave. Pieces of cane
with which Kentucky originally abounded, within the memory of many
now living, were strewed around, having evidently afforded the fuel
with which these fires were fed. In some places the face of the rock
had been slightly worked, but for what purpose will for ever remain
undetermined. The floor of the cave is generally parallel with the
surface of the ground above, as no great rise or fall is perceivable
throughout its entire direction. At about the distance of a mile and
a half from its mouth, the cave takes a majestic bend to the left,
and two miles further we arrived at what is called “the cross roads.”
From this large and gloomy expanse, four distinct caverns branch out
in different directions. The glare of our lamps was just sufficiently
powerful to display the opening on the left. It looked as black and
dismal as darkness could make it, and was formed by vast fragments of
rock, thrown together with a confusion equalling that at the pass in
the Pyrenees, usually known by the name of Chaos. We clambered over
them, and after half an hour’s walking, we arrived at what seemed to be
the termination of the cavern; but, in the corner on the left, is a
kind of natural chimney, through which we climbed to another chamber.
It did not much differ from the other parts of the cave, excepting that
it is much wider in proportion to its length, and the roof blacker. A
solitary bat was clinging to it, and was the only living animal I saw
in the cave. No others inhabit this mansion of utter darkness. The
small pyramids of stone, and the marks of fire, were very numerous. We
explored the other branches of the cave in succession. At intervals the
huge blocks of limestone rose nearly to the roof, and seemed to set
progress at defiance; but, after mastering the summit, we were enabled
to continue, till we reached another and similar difficulty. The cave
never appeared to such effect as when seen from the top of one of these
eminences; because its downward dimensions were not visible by the
light of the lamps, and a bottomless pit was an easy conjecture. The
most terrific place is what is called the cataracts; here, the floor
sinks away to a greater depth, and a large chasm is formed on one side
by gigantic mis-shapen rocks, fearfully disposed over the head of the
explorer, as he gladly descends to refresh himself with a draught of
the pure, delicious water, that falls from the roof. I thought I had
never before seen anything so unearthly, excepting perhaps, the crater
of Vesuvius. We subsequently entered a smaller part of the cave, which
is gradually contracted into so narrow a passage, that we were obliged
to crawl on all fours. It led us, in a few minutes, to the brink of
a large black pit, down which I tossed some fragments of stone, and
we heard them descending from rock to rock, for the depth, I should
judge, of 150 feet. In this manner I visited three, and I have reason
to believe, all the four extremities, of the principal branches of the
cave. I had been told that it was as much as twelve miles to the end
of the cavern which I entered through the chimney, and that the cave
itself had been explored for more than fourteen. The guides make it out
to be more than double its real length. I was more than six hours under
ground, and moving almost incessantly, during which time, as nearly
as I could calculate, I walked but nine or ten miles. The extreme
ends of the principal branches, I should say, were between four and
five. There are several smaller chambers, which I did not visit, but I
heard that they contained nothing new, or different from the others;
and feeling greatly fatigued, was glad to emerge into the open air. I
found it requisite to pause at the entrance: there is no intermediate
temperature between the cool, but not chilly air of the cave, and the
sultry atmosphere of noon. The sensation was extraordinary; with both
my arms extended, one hand would be warm, at the same time that I would
gladly withdraw the other from the contact of the colder air of the
cave. Those who do not take the precaution of waiting a few minutes,
are almost invariably attacked with giddiness, or a fainting fit.
I had erred in believing that the huge bones of the mammoth and other
quadrupeds at present unknown, had been found in this cave; and in
imagination I had listened to the dying cries of agony sent forth by
those stupendous animals as they struggled in the thundering billow
of the deluge that had risen, and rolled into their hiding place, and
reduced them to a state of frenzy and desperation. But it has received
its name of the “mammoth cave” only on account of its superior size
and extent: the term being frequently applied where size or importance
is intended to be designated. For instance, the branch bank of the
United States at Cincinnati, is called the Mammoth bank. None but human
bones have been found in this cave. These were often dug up by the
saltpetre manufacturers, and were usually found lying side by side, but
separated and covered over by a rough slab of limestone. I was informed
that upwards of a hundred skeletons had been there unearthed; and it is
probable that more are still remaining in different parts of the cave.
In general they are not larger than those of the ordinary race of men.
They are doubtless the remains of some of that ancient nation, whose
very name is unknown; whose customs and occupation are unrecorded;
whose chiefs and heroes remain unchronicled, and whose existence is to
be traced only in the monuments of death or warfare.