You are very much mistaken in your estimate of the character of a
Virginian, if you suppose he allows himself, or his horses, to be driven
post-haste, when there is no urgent necessity for it. It is altogether
different with a Yankee; there is no enjoyment for him from the time he
starts on a journey until he reaches the end of it. He is bound to be in a
hurry, for how knows he but there may be a bargain depending, and he may
reach his destination in time to whittle successfully for it.
The Westons actually lingered by the way. There were last looks to be taken
of home, and its neighborhood; there were partings to be given to many
objects in nature, dear from association, as ancient friends. Now, the long
line of blue hills stands in bold relief against the hazy sky--now, the
hills fade away and are hid by thick masses of oak and evergreen. Here, the
Potomac spreads her breast, a mirror to the heavens, toward its low banks,
the broken clouds bending tranquilly to its surface. There, the river
turns, and its high and broken shores are covered with rich and twining
shrubbery, its branches bending from the high rocks into the water, while
the misty hue of Indian summer deepens every tint.
Fair Alice raises her languid head, already invigorated by the delightful
air and prospect. The slightest glow perceptible is making its way to her
pale cheek, while the gay and talkative Ellen gazes awhile at the scenery
around her, then leans back in the carriage, closes her brilliant eyes, and
yields, oh! rare occurrence, to meditation.
Two days are passed in the journey, and our party, arrived safely at
Willard's, found their comfortable apartments prepared for them, and their
servants as glad of their arrival as if they had been separated a year,
instead of a day.
And now, dear reader, I do not intend discussing Washington society. It
must be a more skilful pen than mine that can throw a sun of light upon
this chaos of fashionable life, and bring forth order and arrangement. We
are only here for relaxation and change of air, and when our invalids feel
their good effects, we must return with them to their quiet, but not
unuseful life.
There were many preparations to be made, for our young ladies proposed to
enter into the gayeties of the season. Ellen was to throw off her mourning,
and her old nurse begged her and Alice "to buy a plenty of nice new
clothes, for they might as well be out of the world as out of the fashion."
They both agreed with her, for they were determined to be neither unnoticed
nor unknown among the fair ones of the Union who were congregated at the
capital.
Do not be astonished; there is already a tinge of red beneath the brown
lashes on Alice's cheek. And as for her heart, oh! that was a great deal
better, too; for it has been found by actual experiment, that diseases of
the heart, if treated with care, are not fatal any more than any other
complaints. Mrs. Weston grew happier every day; and as to Alice's uncle, he
hardly ever took his eyes off her, declaring that there must be something
marvellously strengthening in the atmosphere of our much abused city; while
Alice, hearing that Walter Lee was mixing in all the gayeties of Richmond,
already began to question her attachment to him, and thinking of Arthur's
long-continued and devoted affection, trembled lest she should have cast
away the love of his generous heart.
Mr. Weston often felt the time hang heavily upon him, though he saw many
valued friends. He would not have exchanged the life of a country gentleman
for all the honors that politics could offer to her favorite votary; and
for the ordinary amusements which charmed Alice and Ellen, even in
advance, the time had come for him to say, "I have no pleasure in them."
But thinking of Alice's health only, and, above all, anxious that her
marriage with his son should be consummated during his lifetime, no
sacrifice appeared to him too great to make.
The weather was still delightful, and as the soirées, assemblies, and
matinées had not yet commenced, a party was formed to go to Mount Vernon.
The day fixed upon was a brilliant one, in the latter part of November. A
number of very agreeable persons boarding in the hotel were to accompany
them. Bacchus was exceedingly well pleased at the prospect. "'Deed, Miss
Alice," he said, "I is anxious to see de old gentleman's grave; he was a
fine rider; the only man as ever I seed could beat master in de saddle."
Mark objected to his carriage and horses being used over such rough roads,
so a large omnibus was engaged to carry the whole party, Mark and Bacchus
going as outriders, and a man in a little sort of a carry-all having charge
of all the eatables, dishes, plates, &c., which would be required. The
company were in good spirits, but they found traveling in the State of
Virginia was not moving over beds of roses. Where are such roads to be
found? Except in crossing a corduroy road in the West, where can one hope
to be so thoroughly shaken up? I answer, nowhere! And have I not a right to
insist, for my native State, upon all that truth will permit? Am I not a
daughter of the Old Dominion, a member of one of the F.F.V's? Did not my
grandfather ride races with General Washington? Did not my father wear
crape on his hat at his funeral? Let that man or woman inclined to deny me
this privilege, go, as I have, in a four-horse omnibus to Mount Vernon. Let
him rock and twist over gullies and mud-holes; let him be tumbled and
jostled about as I was, and I grant you he will give up the point.
Our party jogged along. At last the old gates were in sight, and the
ragged little negroes stood ready to open them. Here we should begin to be
patriotic, but do not fear being troubled with a dissertation on this
worn-out subject. I will not even observe that by the very gate that was
opened for the Westons did the Father of his country enter; for it would be
a reflection on the memory of that great and good man to suppose that he
would have put his horse to the useless trouble of jumping the fence, when
there was such a natural and easy way of accomplishing his entrance. Ellen,
however, declared "that she firmly believed those remarkable-looking
children that opened the gates, were the same that opened them for
Washington; at any rate, their clothes were cut after the same pattern, if
they were not the identical suits themselves."
There was a gentleman from the North on the premises when they arrived. He
joined the party, introduced himself, and gave information that he was
taking, in plaster, the house, the tomb, and other objects of interest
about the place, for the purpose of exhibiting them. He made himself both
useful and agreeable, as he knew it was the best way of getting along
without trouble, and he was very talkative and goodnatured. But some, as
they approached the grave, observed that Mr. Weston, and one or two others,
seemed to wish a certain quietness of deportment to evince respect for the
hallowed spot, and the jest and noisy laugh were suddenly subdued. Had it
been a magnificent building, whose proportions they were to admire and
discuss; had a gate of fair marble stood open to admit the visitor; had
even the flag of his country waved where he slept, they could not have felt
so solemnized--but to stand before this simple building, that shelters his
sarcophagus from the elements; to lean upon unadorned iron gates, which
guarded the sacred spot from intrusion; to look up and count the little
birds' nests in the plastered roof, and the numberless hornets that have
made their homes there too; to pluck the tendrils of the wild grapes that
cluster here--this simple grandeur affected each one. He was again in life
before them, steadily pursuing the great work for which he was sent, and
now, reposing from his labor.
And then they passed on to the old, empty grave. It was decaying away,
yawning with its open mouth as if asking for its honored tenement. Ellen
gazed down and sprang in, and ere the others could recover from their
astonishment, or come forward to offer her assistance, she looked up in her
beauty from the dark spot where she was standing.
"Let me get out alone," said she; "I have such a prize;" and she held in
her hand a bird's nest, with its three little white eggs deposited therein.
"Oh! Ellen," said Mrs. Weston, robbing a bird's nest. "Put it back, my
dear."
"No, indeed, Mrs. Weston, do not ask me. Think of my finding it in
Washington's grave. I mean to have it put on an alabaster stand, and a
glass case over it, and consider it the most sacred gem I possess. There,
Uncle Bacchus, keep it for me, and don't crush the eggs."
"I won't break 'em, Miss Ellen," said Bacchus, whose thoughts were apt to
run on "sperrits." "I thought for certain you had see'd de old gentleman's
ghost, and he had called you down in dat dark hole. But thar aint no danger
of his comin back agin, I reckon. 'Pears as if it hadn't been long since I
followed him to dis very grave."
"What!" said the Northern gentleman, "were niggers allowed to attend
Washington's funeral?"
"Colored people was, sir," said Bacchus, in a dignified manner. "We aint
much used to being called niggers, sir. We calls ourselves so sometimes,
but gentlemen and ladies, sir, mostly calls us colored people, or servants.
General Washington hisself, sir, always treated his servants with
politeness. I was very well acquainted with them, and know'd all about the
general's ways from them."
Mr. Weston could not but smile at the reproof Bacchus had given. He turned
and apologized to the gentleman for his servant's talkativeness, saying he
was an old and much indulged servant.
They turned away from that empty grave. The young girls round whom so many
affections clustered; the fond and anxious mother; the aged and
affectionate relative; the faithful and valued servant--turned away from
that empty grave. When will stay the tumultuous beatings of their hearts?
When will they sleep in the shadow of the old church? Each heart asked
itself, When?
Ere they left this hallowed spot, Mr. Weston addressed a gentleman who
lingered with him. This gentleman was an Abolitionist, but he acknowledged
to Mr. Weston that he had found a different state of things at the South
from what he expected.
"Sir," said he to Mr. Weston, "there is a melancholy fascination in this
hollow, deserted grave. It seems to be typical of the condition in which
our country would be, should the spirit that animated Washington no longer
be among us."
Mr. Weston smiled as he answered, "Perhaps it is good for you to be here,
to stand by the grave of a slaveholder, and ask yourself 'Would I dare here
utter the calumnies that are constantly repeated by the fanatics of my
party?' On this spot, sir, the Abolitionist should commune with his own
heart, and be still. Well was it said by one of your own statesmen, 'My
doctrines on the slavery question are those of my ancestors, modified by
themselves, as they were in an act of Confederation. In this one respect
they left society in the political condition in which they found it. A
reform would have been fearful and calamitous. A political revolution with
one class was morally impracticable. Consulting a wise humanity, they
submitted to a condition in which Providence had placed them. They settled
the question in the deep foundations of the Constitution.' Would you then,
sir, destroy the fabric, by undermining the Constitution? Alas! this would
be the consequence, were it possible to carry out the views of the
Abolition party."
* * * * *
The beautiful words of Harrison G. Otis, delivered in Faneuil Hall, Boston,
Aug. 22d, 1835, would have been appropriate here, too. Speaking of the
formation of Anti-slavery Societies, he said, "Suppose an article had been
proposed to the Congress that framed the instrument of Confederation,
proposing that the Northern States should be at liberty to form
Anti-slavery Associations, and deluge the South with homilies upon slavery,
how would it have been received? The gentleman before me apostrophized the
image of Washington. I will follow his example, and point to the portrait
of his associate, Hancock, which is pendant by its side. Let us imagine an
interview between them, in the company of friends, just after one had
signed the commission for the other; and in ruminating on the lights and
shadows of futurity, Hancock should have said, 'I congratulate my country
upon the choice she has made, and I foresee that the laurels you gained in
the field of Braddock's defeat, will be twined with those which shall be
earned by you in the war of Independence; yet such are the prejudices in my
part of the Union against slavery, that although your name and services may
screen you from opprobrium, during your life, your countrymen, when
millions weep over your tomb, will be branded by mine as man-stealers and
murderers; and the stain of it consequently annexed to your memory.'"
But, alas! the Abolitionist will not reflect. He lives in a whirlpool,
whither he has been drawn by his own rashness. What to him is the love of
country, or the memory of Washington? John Randolph said, "I should have
been a French Atheist had not my mother made me kneel beside her as she
folded my little hands, and taught me to say, 'Our Father.'" Remember
this, mothers in America; and imprint upon the fair tablet of your young
child's heart, a reverence for the early institutions of their country, and
for the patriots who moulded them, that "God and my country" may be the
motto of their lives.