household books, a register of the names and ages of his horses and his
dogs. Here we may read the entire family history of _Ajax_ and _Blueskin_,
_Valiant_ and _Magnolia_, or of the foxhounds _Vulcan_, _Singer_,
_Ringwood_, _Music_, and _True Love_.
There was a peculiar intimacy between the foxhounds and their master, for
they were associated with some of the happiest hours of his life, and when
they came in from a field-day, torn by the briars through which they had
struggled or limping from thorns in the foot, they were tenderly cared
for, bandaged, and looked after. No amusement so delighted Washington as
riding across country with Lord Fairfax in one of the hunts which that
gentleman and sportsman was so fond of organizing at Greenaway Court. On a
brisk yet soft autumn morning, through the blue Virginia haze, the gentry
for miles around came to the "meet." The huntsmen might be heard urging on
the dogs with cries of "Yoicks! Yoicks! Have at him! Push him up!" till
the fox, which had doubled on its tracks, round and round the thick
covert, at length broke away, and the cry was raised of "Tally-ho! Gone
away!" The huntsman blew his horn, the whipper-in cracked his whip, the
hounds were in full cry, and the entire field of scarlet-coated riders
broke in, in a mad gallop, through brush and briar. A strong fox will
"live" before hounds on an average of an hour, but sometimes the hunt
lasted all day, and covered thirty miles or more. The lessons of
endurance, of woodcraft, and of hardy strength, which the Virginia
gentlemen learned in these hunts, stood them in good stead in the
life-and-death struggle on sterner fields.
A great lover of animals was Charles Lee, who was always surrounded by a
troop of dogs, and who made himself somewhat unwelcome as a visitor, by
insisting on bringing them into the house with him wherever he went. "I
must have some object to embrace," he once wrote to a friend. "When I can
be convinced that men are as worthy objects as dogs, I shall transfer my
benevolence, and become as staunch a philanthropist as the canting Addison
affected to be."
Apparently he never changed his mind, but died still devoted to his dogs
and his horses. Men who loved horses, of course loved horse-racing as
well. The Carolina Jockey Club was a famous institution. Its annual races
drew crowds from the neighboring country, and the population gave itself
up to several days' festivity, ending in a ball. In Virginia, the sport
was no less popular. _The Gazette_ of October, 1737, announces that "On
St. Andrew's Day, there are to be horse-races and several other Diversions
for the entertainment of the Gentlemen and Ladies at the Old Field." The
programme of this entertainment recalls the days of Merrie England.
Besides the race of twenty horses for a prize of five pounds, the
advertisement gives notice:
"That a hat of the value of 20s. be cudgelled for, and that after the
first challenge be made, the Drums are to beat every quarter of an hour
for 3 challenges round the Ring, and none to play with their left hand.
"That a violin be played for by 20 Fiddles, no person to have the liberty
of playing unless he bring his fiddle with him. After the prize is won,
they are all to play together, and each a different tune, and to be
treated by the company.
"That 12 Boys of 12 years of age do run 112 yds, for a hat of the cost of
12 shillings.
"That a flag be flying on said Day, 30 feet high.
"That a handsome entertainment be provided for the subscribers and their
wives; and such of them as are not so happy as to have wives, may treat
any other lady.
"That drums, trumpets and hautboys be provided to play at said
entertainment.
"That after dinner the Royal Health, His Honor the Governor's, etc., are
to be drunk.
"That a Quire of Ballads be sung for, by a number of songsters, all of
them to have liquor sufficient to clear their wind-pipes.
"That a pair of silver buckles be wrestled for, by a number of brisk young
men.
"That a pair of handsome shoes be danced for.
"That a pair of handsome silk stockings, of one pistole value, be given to
the handsomest young country maid that appears in the field--with many
other whimsical and comical diversions too numerous to mention.
"And as this mirth is designed to be purely innocent and void of offense,
all persons resorting there are desired to behave themselves with decency
and sobriety."
There is a delightful heartiness and simplicity about all this racing, and
chasing, and dancing, and jigging, and fiddling. Folks had not learned to
take their pleasure sadly. They still found clowns funny, and shouted with
laughter over the efforts to climb greased poles and catch slippery pigs,
and, above all, they delighted in the barbecue. At these great open-air
feasts animals were roasted whole over enormous fires. Huge bowls of punch
circled round the long tables spread under the trees, and when the feast
was done the negroes gathered up the fragments and made merry, late into
the night.
All the English holidays were observed in the Cavalier Colonies in
addition to some local festivals. Eddis writes from Annapolis in old
colony days: "Besides our regular assemblies, every mark of attention is
paid to the patron saint of each parent dominion; and St. George, St.
Andrew, St. Patrick, and St. David are celebrated with every partial mark
of national attachment. General invitations are given, and the appearance
is always numerous and splendid. The Americans on this part of the
continent have likewise a saint, whose history, like those of the above
venerable characters, is lost in sable uncertainty. The first of May is,
however, set apart to the memory of Saint _Tamina_ (Tammany); on which
occasion the natives wear a piece of a buck's tail in their hats, or in
some conspicuous situation. During the course of the evening, and
generally in the midst of a dance, the company are interrupted by the
sudden intrusion of a number of persons habited like Indians, who rush
violently into the room, singing the war-song, giving the whoop, and
dancing in the style of those people; after which ceremony, a collection
is made, and they retire, well satisfied with their reception and
entertainment."
In addition to such festivities as these, the King's birthnight was
celebrated with illuminations and joy-fires, and Christmas in Maryland and
Virginia recalled the gayety of the dear old home festival. The halls were
filled with holly and mistletoe, which refuse to grow in the chill New
England air, but may be gathered in the woods of Virginia as freely as in
England; the yule log was kindled on the hospitable hearth, and the
evening ended with a dance.
It was a dancing age. None were too old or too dignified to join in the
pastime. We have it on the authority of General Greene that on one
occasion Washington danced for three hours without once sitting down.
Patrick Henry would close the doors of his office to betake himself to
dancing or fiddling, and Jefferson dearly loved to rosin his bow for a
merry jig. The story is told of him that once, when away from home, he
received news of the burning of his father's house. "Did you save any of
my books?" he asked of the slave who brought him the tidings. "No, Massa,"
answered the negro, "but we saved the fiddle!"
At the entertainments in the "Palace" at Williamsburg, the Governor
himself opened the ball, with the most distinguished lady present, in the
stately figures of the minuet. Afterward young and old joined in the
livelier motions of the _Virginia Reel_. This dance, in spite of its name,
did not spring from Virginia soil, but was adopted from an old English
dance known as "The Hemp-Dressers," whose figures represent the process of
weaving, as its couples shoot from side to side, then over and under, like
a shuttle, and finally unite, as the threads tighten and draw the cloth
together.
The Governor's palace did not absorb all the gayety of Williamsburg. Who
has not heard of the Raleigh Tavern, with its leaden bust of Sir Walter,
and its crowning glory of "The Apollo Room," named doubtless for that
famous "Apollo Room" in the "Devil's Tavern," Fleet Street, where
Shakespeare and Jonson held their bouts of wit and wine?
If we could have crept up to the Raleigh Tavern some night, early in the
last half of the last century, and peeped through the small-paned windows
of "the Apollo," we might have seen a party of gay collegians making merry
with their sweethearts and friends. This tall youth, with sandy hair and
gray eyes, is Tom Jefferson, who is offering his awkward homage at the
shrine of Miss 'Becca Burwell. Near them is Jefferson's most intimate
friend, Jack Page, dancing with his Nancy. Yonder, near the wide
fireplace, between Sukey Potter and Betsy Moore, stands Ben Harrison, a
mere boy still, though soon to enter the House of Burgesses, and over
there in the corner, gravely surveying the dancers, is the uniformed
figure of the young soldier, George Washington. Should we have read in
these youthful faces a promise of the parts they were destined to play on
the world's stage? Probably no more than we should have foreseen this gay
ballroom turned into the hall of a political assembly, where the first
birth-cry of American freedom is heard.
We can get whatever impression we choose of Williamsburg and its society
by selecting our authority judiciously. Burnaby, who visited it in 1759,
describes it as a pleasant little town, with wooden houses straggling
along unpaved streets; while Hugh Jones writes, thirty years earlier, that
many good families live here "who dress after the same modes and behave
themselves exactly as the Gentry in London." "Most families of any note,"
he adds, "have a coach, chariot, Berlin or chaise."
The city, so he says, is well stocked with rich stores, and "at the
Governor's House upon Birthnights and at Balls and Assemblies, I have seen
as fine an appearance, as good diversion, and as splendid entertainments
in Governor Spotswood's time as I have seen anywhere."
When Governor Botetourt (pronounced after the English fashion, _Bottatot_)
came over to Virginia, he took the oath of office here at Williamsburg,
and rode in state in a great coach drawn by six milk-white horses. After
the oath had been administered, a grand supper was given in his honor at
the Raleigh Tavern. _The Gazette_ gives a full account of the affair. An
ode was sung, beginning:
"He comes! His Excellency comes
To cheer Virginia's plains.
Fill, your brisk bowls, ye loyal sons,
And sing your loftiest strains!
Be this your glory, this your boast,
Lord Botetourt's the favorite toast.
Triumphant wreaths entwine!
Fill your bumpers swiftly round,
And make your spacious rooms resound
With music, joy and wine!"
The air being ended, the recitative took up the strain of effusive
compliment:
"Search every garden, strip the shrubby bowers,
And strew his path with sweet autumnal flowers!
Ye virgins, haste; prepare the fragrant rose
And with triumphant laurels crown his brows!"
The virgins thus called forth, appeared from their "shrubby bowers,"
bearing roses and laurel, and singing, as they advanced toward the hero of
the evening:
"See, we've stripped each flowery bed--
Here's laurels for his lordly head,
And while Virginia is his care,
May he protect the virtuous fair!"
As I looked on Lord Botetourt's statue, and marked its moss-covered figure
and its fatuously smiling face, robbed of its nose by the stone of
contempt, I remembered this festival, and mused on the vicissitudes of
fame.
In the year 1752 a new delight was opened to the provincials. Hallam's
company of comedians came over in _The Charming Sally_ to act for them. A
playbill of that year announces that "at the new theatre in Annapolis by
the company of comedians, on Monday next, being the sixth of this instant
July, will be performed _The Busy Body_, likewise a farce called _The
Lying Valet_. To begin precisely at 7 o'clock. Tickets to be had at the
printing-office. No persons to be admitted behind the scenes. Box seats
10s., pit 7s. 6d, gallery 5s." A later bill announces that "children in
laps will not be admitted."
The favorite plays given by Hallam's Company seem to have been--
"The Suspicious Husband," "Othello," "The Mock Doctor," "Romeo and
Juliet," "The Devil To Pay," "A Bold Stroke for a Wife," and "Miss In Her
Teens; or, A Medley of Lovers."
Our squeamish age would find much to shock, and perhaps little to amuse,
in many of those old plays. Congreve's shameless muse set the pace, and
the Nell Gwynns of the stage kept it. If we wonder that our ancestors
could listen and look, will not our descendants wonder equally at us?
Before Hallam and his company came over to set up a professional standard,
amateur theatricals were the rage. The Virginia _Gazette_ in 1736
announces a performance of "_The Beaux' Stratagem_ by the gentlemen and
ladies of this county," and also that the students of the college are to
give _The Tragedy of Cato_ at the theatre. Somehow, Addison's tragedies
seem further removed from our sympathies than Congreve's comedies, and we
turn with relief to a form of amusement always in fashion and forever
modern, the time-honored entertainment of feasting.
In 1744, a grand dinner was given by Governor Gooch to visiting statesmen
at Annapolis. William Black, who was present, records in his journal that
"Punch was served before dinner, which was sumptuous, with wines in great
abundance, followed by strawberries and ice-cream, a great rarity." These
public banquets were momentous affairs, demanding a sound digestion and a
steady head in those guests who wished to live to dine another day.
Chastellux gives a vivid account of their customs. "The dinner," he
writes, "is served in the American or, if you will, in the English
fashion, consisting of two courses, one comprehending the entrées, the
roast meat and the warm side-dishes; the other, the sweet pastry and
confectionery. When this is removed, the cloth is taken off, and apples,
nuts, and chestnuts are served. It is then that healths are drunk." This
custom of drinking healths, he finds pleasant enough, inasmuch as it
serves to stimulate and prolong conversation. But he says, "I find it an
absurd and truly barbarous practice, the first time you drink, and at the
beginning of the dinner, to call out successively to each individual, to
let him know you drink his health. The actor in this ridiculous comedy is
sometimes ready to die with thirst, whilst he is obliged to inquire the
names, or catch the eyes, of twenty-five or thirty persons."
The woes of the diner and winer do not, it seems, end with this general
call, for he is constantly called, and having his sleeve pulled, to
attract his attention, now this way, now that. "These general and partial
attacks end in downright duels. They call to you from one end of the table
to the other: 'Sir, will you permit me to drink a glass of wine with
you?'"
Allowing for some exaggeration on the part of the lively Frenchman, it is
easy to see what quantities of Madeira and "Phyall" must have been drunk
in those tournaments of courtesy, and I do not wonder to read in the
journal of a young woman of the eighteenth century: "The gentlemen are
returned from dinner. Both tipsy!"
"The Tuesday Club," of Maryland, had many a jovial supper together. Their
toasts always began with "The Ladies," followed by "The King's Majesty,"
and after that "The Deluge." I find a suggestive regulation made by this
club, that each member should bring his own sand-box, "to save the
carpet."
Parson Bacon sanctified these convivial meetings by his presence and was,
by all accounts, the ringleader of the boisterous revels. Jonathan
Boucher, another clergyman, but of a very different type, was a great
clubman too. He was one of the leading spirits of "The Hommony Club,"
whose avowed object was "to promote innocent mirth and ingenious humor."
The days of women's clubs were still in the far future, and the chief
excitement of the ladies was an occasional ball. The Maryland assemblies
began at six o'clock in the evening, and were supposed to end at ten,
though the young folks often coaxed and cajoled the authorities into later
hours. Card parties were part of the entertainment, and whist was
enlivened by playing for money. The supper was often furnished from the
ladies' kitchens and the gentlemen's gamebags, and was a tempting one. The
costumes were rich and imposing. A witness of one of these Maryland balls
writes: "The gentlemen, dressed in short breeches, wore handsome
knee-buckles, silk stockings, buckled pumps, etc. The ladies wore--God
knows what; I don't!"
Dancing and music were the chief branches of the eighteenth-century
maiden's education. I can fancy, as I read that "Patsy Custis and Milly
Posey are gone to Colonel Mason's to the dancing-school," how they held up
their full petticoats, and pointed out the toes of their red-heeled shoes,
and dreamed of future conquests, although for one of them the tomb was
already preparing its chill embrace.
For women, life in town was pleasant enough with its tea-drinkings, its
afternoon visits, and its evening assemblies, but on the plantations far
from neighbors time must often have hung heavy on their hands. Yet even
there, pleasures could be found, or made. When evening shut down over the
lonely manor-houses along the Chesapeake, the myrtleberry candles were
lighted, the slender-legged mahogany tables drawn out, and the Colonial
dames seated themselves to an evening of cards. Small stakes were played
for to heighten the interest of "Triumph, Ruff and Honors," "Gleke," or
"Quadrille;" and when these lost their charm, there was the spinet to turn
to.
[Illustration: Spinet.]
In those primitive days people still loved melody. "A little music" was
called for with enthusiasm, and given without hesitation. There was no
scientific criticism to be feared when the young men and maidens "raised a
tune." Their list of songs was not long; but familiarity lent a deeper
charm than novelty. "Gaze not on Swans" was a favorite in the seventeenth
century. "Push about the Brisk Bowl," while well enough at the hunt supper
table, was banished from the drawing-room in favor of "Beauty, Retire!" a
song beginning--
"Beauty, retire! thou dost my pitty move;
Believe my pitty and then trust my love."
The writer does not make it quite clear why he wishes Beauty to retire,
nor why she moves his pity. In fact, the case seems quite reversed in the
last stanza:
"With niew and painfulle arts
Of studied warr I breake the hearts
Of half the world; and shee breakes mine;
And shee, and shee, and _shee_ breakes mine!"
Through the lapse of more than one century, we hear the echo of those
young voices, rising and falling in the air and counter of the quaint old
melodies.
Oh, those shadowy corners of candle-lighted rooms, those spinets, those
duos and trios, those ruffled squires and brocaded dames!--where are they
now?
His Man-Servants and His Maid-Servants
[Illustration: His Man-Servants _and_ his Maid Servants.
"JOVE _fixed it certain
That whatever day
Makes a man slave,
Takes half his worth away_"]
A New England farmhouse and a Southern plantation:--What a contrast the
two presented in colonial days! In the homes of Massachusetts and
Connecticut, the notable housewife was up before light, breaking the ice
over the water, of a winter morning, preparing with her own hands the
savory sausages and buckwheat cakes for the men's breakfast, and setting
the house in order. To her it fell to take charge of the wool from the
back of the sheep till it reached the back of her boy; carding, spinning,
weaving, dyeing the wool, cutting the cloth, and sewing the seams,
scouring floors and washing dishes; all these duties fell to the share of
the Puritan Priscillas. Yet, when evening fell, when the dishes were
shelved on the dresser, these busy housewives, in their sanded kitchens,
with the firelight reflected from their shining tins, were not to be
pitied, even in comparison with their more luxuriously attended sisters in
Maryland or Virginia.
Life at the South was at once grander and shabbier, than in New England.
The Southerner's ease-loving nature had the power to ignore detail; and it
is attention to detail which brings well-being to the household and
wrinkles to the housekeeper. A thousand slaves could not take the place of
one woman of "faculty." In fact, the more shiftless, lazy negroes there
were, the less order and tidiness prevailed. But order and tidiness were
not indispensable to happiness there and then, and the sum of human
enjoyment was large on those old plantations, in spite of shiftlessness
and slavery. Of that restless ambition which corrodes modern life, men had
little, women had none, and servants less than none. The negro was a true
child of the tropics, and with food and sunshine enough, was merry as the
day is long.
A healthy negro, on a prosperous estate, under the charge of a gentleman,
not under the bane of an overseer, came perhaps as near to animal
cheerfulness as mortal often does. The master enjoyed that serenity and
leisure which freedom from manual labor gives; his children grew up, each
with a personal retainer attached to himself with the old feudal loyalty;
the lady of the house was again the old Saxon _hlaefdige_, who gave out
the bread to the tribe of servants day by day. Yet with all the brightness
which can be thrown into the picture, slavery was a curse alike to slave
and slave-owner, on account both of what it brought and what it took away.
It is strange to note how silently and unperceived the black cloud of
slavery stole over the Colonial Cavalier. A casual entry in John Rolfe's
journal records: "About the last of August came in a dutch man of warre
that sold vs twenty Negars." Before the arrival of this fatal vessel
life-servitude was unknown. The system of apprenticeship, and what would
now be called contract labor, prevailed. These indented white servants
were either transported convicts, sold for a season to the planters, or,
like the Maryland _redemptioners_, poor immigrants, who contracted to
serve for a period of time equivalent to the cost of their passage, which
was prepaid to the master of the ship on which they came.
The work of these indented servants was not excessive. "Five dayes and a
halfe in the summer," said one who knew the situation from experience, "is
the allotted time that they worke and, for two months, when the sun
predominates in the highest pitch of his heat, they claim an antient and
customary Priviledge, to repose themselves three hours in the day, within
the house. In Winter they do little but hunt and build fires."
The Sot-Weed Factor gives a much less rose-colored account of the life of
a redemptioner. A woman-servant in the poem, looking back on her life in
England, exclaims:
"Not then a slave for twice two year,
My cloathes were fashionably new,
Nor were my shifts of linnen blue.
But things are changed: Now at the Hoe
I daily work and Barefoot go,
In weeding corn, or feeding Swine
I spend my melancholy time."
A "melancholy time" many of the redemptioners must have had in their
enforced service; but if the master proved too severe, the indented
servant had the privilege of selecting another, and the original employer
was indemnified for his loss. Susan Frizell, who had run away from her
master, was recaptured and brought before the court for punishment; but
her accounts of ill-usage so moved the authorities, that they remitted the
extra term of service to which running away had made her liable, and only
demanded that she should earn under a new master the five hundred pounds
of tobacco to be paid to her old employer. The bystanders were so touched
by poor Susan's pitiful situation that they collected six hundred pounds
on the spot, and sent Susan on her way rejoicing, with a capital of one
hundred pounds of tobacco to give her a new start in the world.