POEMS BY A COLLEGIAN, Charlottesville, Va. Published by C. P. McKennie.
Printed by D. Deans & Co. 1833.
A neat and unpretending volume of poems, with the above title, was
issued last year from the Charlottesville press. As a Virginia
production _altogether_, and the first fruits of poetical genius,
emanating from the University of Virginia, the collection deserves
honorable mention in the pages of the Southern Literary Messenger.
Criticism might be disarmed of some of its wonted severity, when it is
known that all the poems contained in this volume, were written by the
author between the ages of sixteen and nineteen. This fact, however,
only increases our favorable opinion of his talents, and induces us to
estimate still higher his natural powers of mind.
We propose, instead of an analysis of the volume before us, and a
regular review of its contents, to extract specimens of the POETRY,
which struck us as displaying that fire of genius so necessary to
constitute a true POET. Our readers we are sure will agree with us in
the favorable opinion we have expressed, after they have perused these
specimens.
One of the best and most spirited of the poems, is the Address to
Constantinople on its anticipated fall, written on receiving
intelligence that the Russian army was on its march to that capital in
1829. We give the two first stanzas.
"Thy plumes are ruffled now, proud bird!
O'er land and ocean, forest, solitude,
The echo of thy last, sad shriek is heard!--
The glance of majesty
Is quailing now from thy fierce eye,
And the deep wailing of thy scattered brood
Is dying to a murmur. Sadly dark
Is thy soiled plumage, and thy gilded crest
Has fallen--so often fall the loftiest and the best.
Hark!
To the tread of the devouring foe!--
But ere thou art laid low,
Shall not one last avenging blow
Be struck? Rouse thee, proud bird!
Thy voice of triumph 'mid the nations, yet
May swell from mosque and minaret--
May with the bravest and the first be heard!
Stamboul! proud city of the East!
Sister of Rome!--old mistress of a world--
Wilt thou from thy high state be hurled?
Shall not thy sinewy arm be strung
With its accustomed power?--at least
Gird on thy mail, and let thy dirge,
If thou _must_ die, upon the battle's verge,
Amid the shock of arms, be sung!"
The energy of the language and the appropriateness of the figures,
appear to us worthy of high praise.
We have several beautiful descriptions of calm and quiet scenery. What
follows, contrasts admirably with the lines we have just quoted.
"I look upon the stars sometimes--I love
To watch their twinkling in the azure ground
Of Heaven's o'er-arching canopy, where move
Ten thousand worlds--which, starting with a bound--
Plough with fiery track, the unseen waves
Of fathomless immensity; to see,
Age after age, that sky hung o'er the graves
Of buried nations, as a tapestry--
A funeral canopy when dyed with gloom;
That sky, which, robed in majesty, looked bright
Upon Columbus, when he sought the tomb
Of all his hopes, or strove to snatch from night,
And claim the birthright of a world. 'Tis when
I view the stars, bright handmaids of the moon--
Who walks among them as a virgin queen--
That, with those stars to riot, seem a boon
From Heaven; I love to see that moon's pure beams--
Like lightning shot upon the watery waste,
Which like a mine of living diamonds gleams--
Each sparkling but an instant--as in haste
To hide its liquid lustre in the wave--
A jeweled bathing place--a starlit home--
Fit--ay, beautifully fit to lave
The light of worlds in upper air which roam."
There is much of that highly romantic and poetical imagery in this,
which must please every reader of taste. A stanza of similar style is
in the lines to page 32.
"And when the stars were breathing out
Their holy light to earth,
And diamonding the glad blue sky
For the young moon's queenly birth,
I've gazed upon some lovely one,
And thought that it might be
A glorious home in the afterworld,
In which to live with thee."
And this at page 82.
"The air is like a tideless sea
Of pure and silvery light,
And the waters glance transparently,
Illumed by the queen of night.
The crested waves as they dash on high,
And dissolve in pearly beads,
Appear as a carpet spread gaudily,
Where the giant sea-god treads."
There is much, too, in the following lines, which comes over the senses
"like the sweet south."
"Evening is stealing with her nectared breath,
Slowly and calmly down to kiss each flower
That pouteth in rich beauty from beneath
Its emerald colored guardians--the bright leaves--
('Tis strange what solace brings that magic hour
To every heart that hopes, or loves, or grieves--
It is the fitting time for fervent prayer,
Which rises holily on kindred air--
For then the air _is_ holy--'tis the time
For love--the only time to gaze and die
Beneath the lustre of a diamond eye;
Yet strange to tell, it is the hour for crime!)
In golden majesty the glorious sun,
With light too pure for eye to gaze upon,
Is sinking slowly in the gorgeous west--
A monarch going proudly to his rest.--
He's gone, and mellow twilight creeps along
As gently as the cadence of a song,--
Twilight, to whom each poet in his day,
Hath breathed melodious and impassioned lay,
While o'er his soul thy witchery was stealing,
As sweetly as the whispered tones of feeling.
Evening--'tis then the o'er fraught heart doth pour
Its wealth of pious incense at the shrine
Of deity--the spirit then may soar
Into those regions where the angels twine
Wreaths for the glorious of our earthly race;--
'Tis then that we can see, and feel, and trace
His glory in the realms of starry space!"
We were pleased with the lines to ----, commencing thus:
"Memory! Memory!--'tis like the talisman
We read of in the page of Eastern story,
That magi used the inmost soul to scan
Of friends or foes; or oft mayhap to call
From his bright crystal, gold, or diamond hall,
Some brother in his supernatural glory--
The talisman of feeling, that doth bring
Back on the heart the deeds of other days,
With all their dark or glorious coloring--
The wizard of the soul, whose wand can raise
The disembodied spirits of the dead
Palpable as it were to touch;--impress
The face of such as long ago have fled
Into their state of holy blessedness,
Upon the mind."
The poem, with which the volume opens, "To My Country," contains many
brilliant passages;--and throughout the work, the reader will linger at
almost every page to dwell upon something which must please his fancy.
Indeed the extracts that we intended to have made have so multiplied
upon our hands, that we have not now space to give place to them all.
We trust, however, that what we have given will suffice not only to
show that our own opinions are correct, but to bring the public, and
especially the Virginia public, better acquainted with the author and
his work. In a future number we may adorn the columns of the Messenger
with further extracts from the POEMS BY A COLLEGIAN.
In the preface, the author states that his motive for preserving his
poems in their present form, was his desire "to leave among those who
have taken an interest in his welfare, and with whom he has been in
habits of daily intercourse, a slight memorial of himself, ere more
important duties urge their claims to consideration." We know that his
Alma Mater will always be proud of such a son, and that his friends,
with him, under her instruction will long cherish the "memorial." A
favorable opinion of it will, however, not be confined to them alone. A
discerning public will see and appreciate its excellence.
MY NATIVE LAND, AND OTHER POEMS. By Frederick Speece. Philadelphia:
Printed for Augustine Leftwich, Lynchburg, Virginia. 1832.
Having been obligingly furnished with a copy of these poems, we take
pleasure in introducing them to the notice of the public. We are
somewhat surprised to learn that although published two years since in
Lynchburg, they have attracted no notice in that quarter, either of
applause or censure. It is perhaps, more agreeable to an author, that
his works should come under the lash of satire, than that they should
pass altogether without observation. The chilling neglect of the public
however, furnishes no stronger proof of a writer's demerit, than do the
too frequent carpings of illiberal criticism. Some of the greatest
poets have been doomed whilst living, to indigence and obscurity, and
owe all their honors to posthumous fame; and it is asserted of Homer
especially, that seven cities claimed the honor of his birth, not one
of which perhaps would have furnished a morsel to save him from
starving.
We design not to raise extravagant expectations respecting Mr. Speece's
poems--nor can we hazard the conjecture that the praise of future times
will compensate him for contemporary injustice. We do not hesitate
however, to recommend his work as incomparably superior to much of that
glittering trash which passes under the name of poetry. There is a vein
of good sense,--of just and honest feeling--of tender melancholy--and
sometimes of rich imagination--which runs through his volume, and which
cannot fail to delight such readers as have any soul for poetical
composition. His versification for the most part, is sweet and
melodious--though occasionally there is a little inattention to
syllabick quantity, which produces rather an unpleasant effect upon the
ear. There are other faults too--but they are inconsiderable when
compared with the many redeeming beauties which shine through the
volume. The poem of "My Native Land," in its general tone and harmony
of verse, brings to recollection Goldsmith's Deserted Village--and the
"Sketches," which are also descriptive of the pleasures of juvenile
life and the picturesque scenery of his native hills--contain many fine
passages. In the "Juvenalis Redivivus"--the author has pointed the
arrows of satire against men and manners with no little severity--so
much so, that he has found it necessary in his preface to acknowledge
that time had softened much of the harsh coloring which he had thrown
into his pictures. Many of his minor pieces abound in beautiful
thoughts, expressed in smooth and flowing numbers--and upon the whole
we think if Mr. Speece had been sufficiently encouraged in early life
to persevere in the delightful but unprofitable task of poetical
authorship--he might have reached a highly respectable rank. The
following passage from "My Native Land," will probably remind the
reader of Cowper's touching address to his mother's picture.
"My mother! Melancholy was the morn
That found me orphaned, and almost forlorn.
My friend! My guide! Oh, could not mercy save
Her for her child, or lay me in her grave!
Why cheer my drooping and unsheltered head,
When to the skies her gentle spirit fled?
Why bid me live, since riper years must pay
Their long arrears to that lamented day?
I had a mother, tender, kind and true,
Her virtues many and her failings few;
With warm solicitude and watchful eye,
She taught me what to follow, what to fly;
And warned me disappointment and distress
In life must be my portion, more or less;
That fierce disease would often banish health;
Pride point the insolence of power and wealth;
Folly and vice allure; pretended friends
Abuse my confidence for private ends;
And fears and sorrows, hovering round my head,
Pursue me to my last and narrow bed.
Yet would she say, in Virtue's path was found
A balm to heal the bosom's deepest wound:
Winged my young thoughts to better worlds above,
There to repose my confidence and love.
Her fond affection never would deceive,
But these were things I could not then believe.
Yet though her warnings vanished from my mind,
Her precepts left a faithful trace behind;--
In memory's careful records still remain,
And long experience proves they were not vain."
The same poem concludes in the following lines--being a farewell
tribute to the place of his nativity.
"Adieu! Perhaps forever! Should it be,--
'Land of my Fathers! I will think of thee,'
Long as its motions last, and vital heat,
Within my heart, thy lovely name shall beat.--
Tho' rude thy piny hills, a thankless soil,
Whence scanty products meet the tiller's toil,
Tho' thy wild scenery, and thy fickle clime,
Exhibit little beauteous or sublime;--
And timid Superstition's witching tales,
And Gothic ignorance linger in thy vales;
The charms that could my infant love engage,
Have fixed the feelings of maturer age.
So strongly linked to joys and sorrows past--
I loved thee first--loved long--will love thee last.
Whether, where Beauty taught me first to feel,
And mutual passion fixed the sacred seal
On treasures, Heaven reserved for me alone,
A friend, a bosom dearer than my own,
On Staunton's banks my wandering feet shall rest,
Or in some Eden of the rosy West,
In Alabama's ever verdant clime,
Or where the wild Missouri rolls sublime;
Or, 'mid the Bedford hills, whose limpid streams,
Pay scanty tribute to the mighty James.--
Land of my birth! and where my fathers sleep,
Oft shall remembrance turn to thee and weep,
And though my steps be doomed to wander far,
Affection tremble to her Polar Star,
Till the last throb shall lay this bosom low,
Where _Memory_ and _Affection_ cease to _glow_."
We select a passage at random from the satiric poem, as a fair specimen
of the author's style and manner.
"There was a time, our good old fathers say,
(Perhaps it was so in their better day,)
When coats and gowns were patch'd without disgrace,
And men wore hats that cover'd all the face;
When ragged virtue was not kick'd aside,
Nor worth and equipage identified,
Nor taste and genius by possession squared,
Nor merit sold, like riband, by the yard.
Temperance and charity were then esteem'd,
And men and women were just what they seem'd.
Labor and health with vigor strung their arms,
Themselves less cultivated than their farms.
No smart young master, impudent and vain,
Play'd with his cue, or silver-headed cane,
Forsook his grammar ere he learn'd the rules,
To pilfer pins, or rifle reticules;
Nor beardless hero boasted laurels won,
From maids deceived, or jilted, or undone.
The rosy girls, content with native bloom,
Sought not the flowing robe and waving plume;
Nor wish'd to gain the empire of a heart,
Where half the victory was achieved by art.
No wanton fashion taught with lace to deck,
The shorten'd waist, and lengthen down the neck.
No everlasting clack of slanderous tongues,
Raised sad solicitude for female lungs;
Nor had the sex divided all their cares,
To sorting silks and mangling characters."
If Mr. Speece were at this time a younger man than we presume him to
be, we should take the liberty of pointing out some of his defects--but
various allusions in some of his minor pieces, authorise the inference
that his affections are now almost alienated from the once charming
society of the muses. Domestic sorrow seems to have had no
inconsiderable share in producing this result. His "Apology to A. L.
Esq."--is full of the poet's as well as the father's anguish at the
sudden death of a favorite son sixteen years old. We give the whole to
the reader.
"The generous friend may justly claim
The offspring of my musing,
But to excite the Muse's flame
No more obeys my choosing.
Life's warmest hopes, its light and pride,
Fail'd with my darling when he died.
My harp, that once in rapture rung,
Full-toned to joy and gladness,
Lies all unheeded and unstrung
Beneath the cloud of sadness;
Vain were the task, the effort vain,
To wake its thrilling notes again.
Once skill'd to wreath poetic flowers
Around the brow of Beauty,
My hand has now forgot its powers,
Nor heeds that gentle duty;
Fled is their bloom; the task were vain,
To wreath those wither'd flowers again.
The heart that feels the mortal stroke,
The bosom anguish-riven,
Sinks hopeless as the blasted oak
From the fierce bolt of Heaven:
The oak no genial season feels;
The wounded bosom never heals.
Youth may regain its honors reft,
And bloom again in gladness;
Age, when bereaved, has little left
But ever-during sadness;
And gathering years and grief dissever
Hope from the heart that bleeds forever."
A VISIT TO TEXAS: Being the journal of a traveller through those parts
most interesting to American settlers. With descriptions of scenery,
habits, &c. &c. _New York:_ Goodrich & Wiley. 1834.
The proximity of Texas to the United States,--the facilities of
intercourse between the two countries--and the migratory habits of our
citizens,--are sufficient to invest with more than ordinary interest
every thing which relates to that part of Spanish America. The volume
before us, is an unpretending and agreeable narrative, and is
calculated we think to do good, by pointing out the mischiefs and
inconveniences of emigration to the Mexican republic, and especially by
calling the public attention to the many ingenious frauds which are
practised by land companies and speculators. The author was a purchaser
of twenty thousand acres from the Galveston Bay and Texas Land Company
through their agents at New York, and full of golden dreams about this
new Eldorado of the south west, he embarked in person at New Orleans,
in order to take possession of his splendid principality. His
disappointment and vexation may be easily imagined at finding himself
on his arrival totally deceived on the subject of his title! It was not
worth the parchment on which it was written, and after all his
fruitless expense, anxiety and hardship, he did not enjoy even the
melancholy satisfaction on his return to New York of obtaining from the
trustees their sympathy, much less remuneration. Our traveller might
indeed have acquired "a quarter of a league of unappropriated land, on
condition of professing the Roman Catholic religion, becoming a citizen
of the Republic of Mexico, and residing on the soil for six years,
receiving his title from the government;"--but he was too conscientious
and honorable to submit to such requirements. The truth is, that whilst
there is much in the climate and soil of Texas to allure the settler,
there are also numerous objections which ought to discourage the rash
experiment of emigration. Our own country, particularly in its new
states and territories--holds out sufficient inducements to such as
find it either convenient or necessary to change their abodes; and
there are no superior advantages in a residence on the Brassos or
Colorado to compensate for the sacrifices of friends and
connexions,--free government and the rights of conscience. It seems to
us therefore to be little short of fatuity, especially in the present
unsettled state of the miscalled Republic of Mexico, for a citizen of
the United States to abandon for a settlement in that quarter his
native land, unless indeed, he be a violator of its laws and a refugee
from punishment.
In truth, it appears that this desperate class of men constitute no
inconsiderable portion of the population of Texas;--and our author
relates that on one occasion he sat at the same table with no less than
four murderers who had fled from justice. True, there is a large
portion of the country extremely beautiful and fertile, and the labors
of the planter and herdsman are richly rewarded;--but these advantages
are greatly counterbalanced by the insecurity of the government and
laws--the intolerance of religious bigotry--and the absence of most of
the elements which constitute a virtuous and happy community. Minor
evils and inconveniences are also felt. The spacious plains and
luxuriant prairies--though they furnish abundance of food for horses
and cattle, are scantily supplied with wood, and altogether destitute
of stone;--and the usual incidents of southern latitudes,--bilious
fever,--poisonous reptiles and insects, and alligators of enormous
size, serve to fill up the revolting picture.
We have no fears therefore, notwithstanding the enchanting coloring
which even the temperate feelings and chastened imagination of our
author have thrown around a Texas landscape--that there are many
persons of sober minds, when they shall have balanced the good with the
evil, will be much enamoured with the thought of a permanent "visit" to
that region. The book, therefore, may be recommended as a tolerably
certain antidote to any lurking desire for a ramble across the
Sabine,--and if perchance the spirit of migration shall have become too
obstinate for cure,--it may still have the effect of confining the
wanderer's steps within the limits of our own republic.
There are many things in our author's narrative both curious and
amusing--and not among the least so, is the account he gives of that
intractable animal, the _mustang_, or wild horse of the country. With
one of that strange species he was necessarily obliged to cultivate an
intimate acquaintance, having no other means of transportation between
different parts of the country. The manner in which they are reduced to
subjection, and the untameable perverseness of their nature, are thus
related:
The first thing to be attended to, was the purchase of a horse; and
this was easily effected. The small horses of the country, called
_mustangs_, introduced by the Spaniards, and now numerous in the more
northern prairies, run wild in droves over these parts of Texas, and
are easily taken and rendered serviceable by the inhabitants. When
caught, it would be a problem to a stranger to confine them, where
there is neither tree nor rock to be found: but the Mexicans put on a
halter, knot it at the end, dig a hole about ten inches deep, put in
the knot, and press the earth down upon it. The pull being sideways is
at a disadvantage, and the horse is unable to draw it out. They are
driven to market, purchased for three or four dollars, branded,
hobbled, turned out again, and entirely abandoned to themselves until
they are needed. Whenever a vessel arrives, some of the inhabitants
send into the woods and cane brakes for such a number as they suppose
may be wanted by the passengers; and this I found had already been done
in anticipation of the wants of those who came in the sloop Majesty. In
the log stable belonging to Mr. Austin, at whose house I lodged, I saw
a number of them, with all the wild look which might be expected from
their habits of life. They are small, generally about 13 hands high,
well formed, rather for strength, and of different colors. I saw others
in several other stables; and at length made choice of a white one; and
having paid for him a doubloon and four dollars, (a handsome advance on
his original cost,) stuffed a pair of saddle bags with a few articles
of food as well as clothes, and was soon ready for my journey.
As the brands on horses afford the only evidence of their identity, and
the property of their owners, the rules observed in respect to them are
very strict.
These horses are very useful in the country, and may perhaps become at
some future time a valuable article of export, as they are innumerable,
and cost only the trouble of catching. This is done with a strong
noosed cord, made of twisted strips of raw hide, and called a _lazo_,
which is the Spanish word for a band or bond. It has been often
described, as well as the manner of throwing it, as it is in common use
for catching animals, and sometimes for choking men, in different parts
of America inhabited by the descendants of the Spanish and Portuguese.
A man on horseback, with a rope of this kind coiled in his left hand,
and one end of it fastened to the horse, whirls the noosed end in the
air over his head as he approaches the animal he intends to seize: and,
on finding an opportunity, throws it over its head or horns, and checks
his horse. The noose is instantly drawn tight, and the poor creature is
thrown violently down, without the power of moving, and generally
deprived of breath. They are sometimes badly injured, and even killed,
by bring dashed to the ground; but generally escape with a severe
practical lesson on the nature of this rude instrument of civilization,
which they afterwards hold in great respect all their lives, yielding
immediately whenever they feel it again upon their necks.
The mustangs often carry to their graves evidence of the violent means
adopted by the Mexicans in breaking them to the bridle. Many of them
are foundered, or otherwise diseased. A horse which has been lazoed is
blindfolded, mounted by a rider armed with the heavy and barbarous
spurs of the country, after having their terrible lever bits put into
his mouth, a moderate pull upon which might break his jaw, and if he
runs is pricked to his speed, till he falls down with exhaustion. He is
then turned in the opposite direction, and cruelly spurred again. If he
is found able to run back to the point from which he started, he is
thought to have bottom enough to make a valuable horse: otherwise he is
turned off as good for little or nothing. The process is a brutal one;
and the agony inflicted by the bits is extreme: as blood flows freely
from the mouth which is often greatly swollen; and the animal yields to
mere force.
In the morning we mounted our horses and proceeded to the river, where
the ferry boat, a large scow, was lying near the shore. I dismounted,
and taking the bridle in my hand, attempted to lead my horse in after
me. Most fortunately I was looking at him, and was better prepared than
I was sensible of being, to make one of those sudden instinctive
motions, which sometimes prove essential to our safety. Had I been
turning the other way, or a little less active, I should probably have
lost my life, or at least have been seriously injured: for instead of
following me into the boat, as an honest horse should, and as I had
expected him to do, he fixed his eyes upon me with a malicious
expression, and sprung at me like lightning, clearing the ground
entirely, and making a leap of about eight feet. I jumped aside, and
barely in time to avoid his feet, with which it seemed to me he
designed to beat me down. I do not know that I ever had experienced
such feelings as this occurrence excited in me. It betrayed a degree of
spite mingled with craft which I had never seen in an animal of his
species; and laid the axe at the root of all that confidence and
attachment which a traveller loves to exercise towards his horse. I
have been thus particular in mentioning this little occurrence, because
the wit of the country appears to be largely invested in the horses;
and this was the beginning of my white mustang.
Some other particulars of our traveller's own rebellious steed may also
be extracted. He was not indeed "a Tartar of the Ukraine breed"--but he
was as wild, mischievous and wicked an animal as ever pranked.
It was our intention to proceed to Bingham's that day: for one of my
companions, who had travelled the road a short time before, had
calculated that his house would afford us a very comfortable lodging
after a good day's ride. We rose therefore to proceed on our journey.
But I had a chapter or two more to read on the character of mustangs
before I was destined to leave the place. I had never been informed of
one particular propensity which they have, that is, to draw back and
pull violently when approached in front, and therefore walked up to my
white horse rather hastily to untie and mount him. He sprang back and
pulled for a moment so hard upon the sapling to which I had fastened
him, that it came up by the roots; and after a few leaps and kicks,
which freed him from my saddle bags, and broke the bridle, he made off
towards the middle of the prairie at full speed, with his head and tail
both raised, and in a state of exultation which formed quite a contrast
to my own feelings.
My companions threw off their valises, mounted immediately, and gave
chase to the pestilent runaway, which, after a short gallop, had
halted, and with the most provoking coolness began to eat grass from
the prairie. As they approached him, however, he flew off again as fast
as his legs would carry him; and thus he led them to a great distance,
on a chase apparently hopeless. I watched them till I was tired,
coursing over the prairie here and there, now on this side, now on
that, at such a distance that they looked no bigger than cats, and anon
further diminished to mere mice. My white mustang led them up and down,
round and crosswise, as if he delighted in worrying them, occasionally
stopping, as coolly as before, to crop the grass, and then off in a new
direction, like a wild creature as he was. This chase lasted without
intermission for four hours, at the end of which they succeeded in
driving the little white animal towards the house. Mr. Bailey, seeing
him approaching, despatched a messenger to a neighboring farm for
assistance; and a man soon came hurrying down on horseback, provided
with a lazo: a rope with a noose at the end as before described. He
joined in the pursuit with the spirit and skill of one practised in
such employment, and soon got within about eight or ten feet of my
horse, when, with a dexterous fling, he suddenly threw the noose over
his head. Having the beast now completely in his power, he was prepared
to choke him into submission; and the noose was on the point of closing
its grasp round his neck. But here the intelligence and experience of
the mustang stepped in with customary promptitude: for as soon as he
felt the rope round his neck, he stopped stone still, and yielded as
submissively as a lamb. Like an accomplished rogue at last fairly in
the gripe of justice, he seemed in haste to submit, plead guilty and
repent, in order to secure as much leniency as possible; and in a few
moments I was again on the back of this little flying brute, jogging on
as quietly as if he had never rebelled in his life. There was a great
deal of farce in all this: but we had been put to too much
inconvenience by the perverse trick to enjoy the joke: for our loss of
time, we foresaw, would put it out of our power to perform all our
intended day's journey.
It was nearly dark when we reached Hall's: a habitation of which I had
heard, but at which we had not originally intended to stop, as it was
only thirteen miles from Bailey's. I here found that horses in Texas
are always turned out loose to feed, even if a traveller stops but for
the night, which would have ensured another chase, with perhaps even
more unfavorable results than that I had witnessed, but for an
expedient which was recommended to us. This was to "hobble them" after
the fashion of the country: which consists in tying together their fore
legs with a short cord, and not one fore and one hind leg together, as
we do at the north. This operation instantly changes the movements of a
horse, as he is obliged to make every step a fair leap: and it excited
the greatest merriment in me, when I saw the horses of my companions
practising a gait so different from common, under a mode of constraint
which I had never witnessed before. Fully satisfied that such
confinement would be sufficient even for my white mustang, I began to
tie his legs together, which to my surprise he submitted to with the
utmost cheerfulness, without raising his head, for he had already began
to graze on the fine grass. Although so recently accustomed to run at
large in the Brazos forests, he had evidently been familiar with the
hobble: for as if he perfectly concurred in my opinion as to the
propriety of his being bound, whenever he wanted to move he carefully
raised both fore feet together, so as not to interfere with my task,
and made a gentle spring to a knot of fresh feed. Surely, thought I, I
have got a steed sagacious enough to figure in one of Æsop's Fables.
Our traveller had not proceeded far on his journey, before his
vexatious mustang refused to eat, and gave signs of great weariness and
exhaustion. Unable however to supply himself with another, he resolved
after an interval of rest to pursue his way.
We took our departure accordingly; and I had much difficulty in getting
my horse out of the town. In a short time, however, he began to cheer
up, and gradually quickened his pace until his strength and spirits
were quite restored, and he travelled remarkably well. However strange
it may seem, there was every appearance that the whole affair had been
a mere trick of the wily brute; and my opinion was confirmed by several
inhabitants to whom I afterwards recounted the story. They told me that
the sagacity and duplicity of the mustang is well known among them, and
that he is capable of almost any thing, which ingenuity or malice can
invent. So ungrateful a return for all my kindness and care, under such
vexatious circumstances, and aggravated by such persevering imposture,
added to my previous dislike of the animal which had been guilty of it.
One would be almost tempted to think that these provoking yet sagacious
quadrupeds were regular descendants from the race celebrated by Swift,
and which that eccentric satirist endowed with superior intelligence to
men.
From our author's account, Texas would undoubtedly furnish its full
quota of contributions to a cabinet of natural history. The feathered
tribes luxuriate there, especially on the coast, in great abundance and
variety. The wild fowl congregate in prodigious flocks, and the
ornithologist might find almost every order, genera and species in
creation. The tenants of the forest are not less numerous,--there being
an ample supply of wolves, bears, panthers, wild cats, wild hogs,
foxes, rackoons and squirrels. The waters too, furnish their finny,
testaceous and crustaceous treasures,--the red fish, buffalo, cat,
drum, pearch, oysters, crabs, &c. Nor is there any want of those
amphibious annoyances, crocodiles and alligators--and to crown the
whole, there is an anomalous species called the
alligator-garr,--consisting not of the fanciful compound of half horse
and half alligator--but of the actual and bona fide admixture of one
moiety of fish, and the other of alligator. We must not forget either
in enumerating the zoological curiosities of that region, one which we
do not recollect to have seen described by naturalists. We give the
words of the author.
One of the prettiest little animals I ever saw, is the "horned frog;"
which, notwithstanding its name, is far from being amphibious, as it is
found on the prairies at a distance from water. Indeed it bears little
or no resemblance to a frog, appearing more like a lizard, with rather
a long and graceful form, a tail, and legs of nearly equal length, so
that it runs swiftly and never leaps. I had often occasion to notice
them, both here and on other prairies. They run with such agility, that
although they do not take alarm until you have approached very near
them, they dart off, and generally disappear immediately. One might
often mistake them for quails, while in motion. They are of a yellowish
color, mottled, and have horns about half an inch long, projecting from
the front of the head. Several were caught and kept for some time in a
barrel at Anahuac, and though it could not be perceived that they ate
any of the various kinds of food which were offered them, they lived
and continued active for a considerable time.
That formidable reptile the rattlesnake, is also found in the grassy
prairies of Texas. Our traveller killed one of the "largest and
noblest" of that venemous family--it being five or six feet long and
about six inches in circumference. It was provided however with only
eight rattles, whereas others which had been killed a few days
previously of hardly half the size, were furnished with as many as
thirteen;--from which the author takes occasion to contest the common
opinion that the number of rattles is an indication of the reptile's
age. We have heard the same fact asserted, and the same conclusion
drawn from it by others, whose opportunities for careful and actual
observation were undoubted.
Notwithstanding the many and formidable objections to a permanent
residence in Texas,--there are beauties in its scenery, which, despite
of its unvarying monotony--must fill the beholder with delight. We give
a description of one of the few fine estates in regular cultivation.
We were received with great hospitality by Mr. McNeil and his family,
in which we found every disposition to welcome us. They set before us
the best products of the soil, which is indeed a land flowing with milk
and honey, in a more unqualified sense of the expression than any I had
ever seen. Our exercise had sharpened our appetites; and we were soon
cheered with the sight of an excellent and plentiful meal: for our
hosts, without making a single allusion to the subject, had immediately
given directions, on our first arrival, that our wants should be
provided for, and we soon sat down to a well timed repast. It consisted
chiefly of venison and a fine turkey, and was accompanied with
excellent coffee. The daughter of our host was a very intelligent and
well educated young lady, and had recently returned from the Northern
States, where she had just completed her education.
After eating, we took a view of the charming scene around us. The house
in which we were, constructed of logs, and on the plan common to the
country dwellings of farmers in Texas, is well sheltered from the sun
and the winds by the wood, in the verge of which it is situated: and
when the beautiful China trees around it shall have attained a greater
size, the spot will be rendered still more agreeable. The mansion
fronts upon the estate: a fine, open prairie, over which the eye ranges
with pleasure, no wild or barren spot occurring to interrupt the
universal aspect of fertility and beauty, and no swelling of the
surface being perceptible, which might in any degree interfere with the
clearest view of every part. The only interruption is caused by
clusters of trees of different forms and sizes, scattered at distant
intervals here and there. These clumps and groves, apparently
possessing all the neatness and beauty which could have been given them
if planted by the hand of man, and tended by his greatest care, added
the charm of variety to the eye, while they promised thick and
convenient shelter from sun and storm to man or beast. Without such
variety and such a refuge, the aspect of the prairie, with all its
verdure, would have been monotonous to the sight, and disheartening to
the traveller. It would be almost impossible for a person who has never
seen them, to imagine the appearances of these groves. Although they
are wholly the work of nature, they often present all the beauty of
art: for the trees are of nearly equal size, and grow near together,
without underwood, and present outlines perfectly well defined, and
often surprisingly regular. Some appear to form exact circles or ovals,
while others are nearly square or oblong. It is no uncommon thing to
see a continued line, running perfectly straight, for a mile or more in
length, with scarcely a single tree projecting beyond it: so that I
found it difficult to divest myself of the impression, that much of the
land had been lately cleared, and that these were but the remains of
the forest.
Those groves are called islands, from the striking resemblance they
present to small tracts of land surrounded by water. Nothing can be
more natural than the comparison. The prairie assumes the uniform
appearance of a lake, both in surface and color; and in the remoter
parts the hue melts into that of distant water; and it requires no very
great effort of the imagination, especially in certain states of the
weather and changes of the light, to fancy that such is the nature of
the scene.
The landscape was bounded on the right by a long and distant line of
woodland, which concealed and yet betrayed the course of the river San
Bernard, and about three miles off, and on the left by a similar limit,
which formed the "bottoms" of the Brazos. Between these the prairie
extended its broad, unbroken level before us about ten miles, beyond
which we saw the Gulf of Mexico, reaching off to the horizon.
I stood long contemplating this charming picture, which, as I before
remarked, is entirely overlooked from the door of our hospitable
friend; and what greatly added to its interest, was a vast number of
cattle feeding in all parts of his wide domain. How different a sight
was here presented, from any of the rural scenes with which my eyes had
ever before been familiar! How different was all the system of the
farmer from that prevailing in those regions of my own country which I
had lately visited! I was one moment struck with surprise at the vast
extent of land under the care of a single proprietor, and the few human
hands required to perform the necessary labor; and the next I was
filled with admiration at the various advantages afforded by a mild and
benignant climate, a soil of extreme fertility, and a surface best
appropriate to its use, when subjected to a system of culture to which
it is best adapted. The cotton field and garden, with their two hundred
acres, lay on the one hand, effectually secured against all
encroachment with the most substantial fence I had ever seen, which
stretched off a mile on one line; and around and beyond it lay the
almost boundless prairie, variegated with its numerous islands, spotted
with a scattered herd of six hundred cattle, all belonging to our host.
The breed is larger than those common in the north, with longer and
straiter limbs, broader horns and smoother coats. They all appeared
well fed, active and vigorous, and spend their lives through winter and
summer in the open air. The only attention bestowed upon them, is
merely to mark them when young in such a manner that if they stray they
may be distinguished from the cattle of any other proprietor. Of course
no housing is necessary in such a climate, and no provision of food for
them is to be made, in a country where there is perpetual green. They
feed during the winter in the bottoms, and as yet do not require salt,
for some reason unaccountable to me. One might expect that cattle left
thus to herd together in such immense droves, without the care or
control of man during their lives, would contract habits of timidity or
of fierceness; but I was assured that they are in one respect more
manageable than the tame cattle I have seen: for a horseman can always
readily separate such as he chooses from a herd, by riding after them
one at a time, though this is a task of great difficulty with our
northern cattle, even where they have roads and fences to restrain
them.
We shall conclude by extracting another portion of the work, which in
the simple and unpretending language of the author, presents a picture
of such striking beauty, that the eye of a poet might almost mistake it
for Elysium.
I had never been at all prepared for the indescribable beauty of a
Texas prairie at this season of the year, which I now could not avoid
admiring, even under such unpleasant circumstances. The wild flowers
had greatly multiplied, so that they were often spread around us in the
utmost profusion, and in wonderful variety. Some of those which are
most cultivated in oar northern gardens were here in full bloom and
perfection, intermingled with many which I had never before seen, of
different forms and colors. I should despair of giving my reader any
adequate idea of the scenes which were thus so richly adorned, and
through which we often passed for acres in extent, breaking for
ourselves the only path perceptible on the whole prairie. Among the
flowers were the largest and most delicate I had ever seen, with others
the most gaudy. Among them were conspicuous different species about six
inches in diameter, presenting concentric zones of the brightest
yellow, red and blue, in striking contrasts. In more than one instance
these fields of flowers were not only so gay and luxuriant as to seem
like a vast garden richly stocked with the finest plants and abandoned
to a congenial soil, but extensive almost beyond limitation: for it was
sometimes difficult to discover whether they stopped short of the
horizon. It was singular also that patches were here and there
overspread by mimosas, which, as our horses passed through them, drew
up their leaves and dropped their branches whenever they were brushed
by their feet, thus making a withered trace on the surface, which was
but gradually obliterated as these timid plants regained their courage,
raised their stems again and expanded their withered leaves. The plants
whose sensitiveness had thus been overcome, were rendered
distinguishable to the eye from others, by the exposure they made of
the lower side of their leaves when they folded them up: that side
being of a much lighter hue than the upper. There was a phenomenon
connected with this striking appearance, which I was at the time unable
to account for, and could hardly credit. That was, the shrinking of the
delicate plants a little in advance of us, before we had quite reached
them. A friend who had witnessed the same thing, accounted for it by
supposing that they received a shock through the long horizontal roots
which connect them together.
One of the first flowers which appears to deck the prairie in the
spring, is the prairie rose, which in blossom and fragrance, resembles
some of our rich red roses, though the shrub is quite different. As for
others, I know not what a botanist might make of them: but I am certain
that many of them would be exceedingly admired in our own country, as
rich and new; and as to the scenes over which they were spread, it is
impossible to describe or to imagine their beauty and attraction. After
looking on the rich and ever varying display, I felt a high degree of
pleasure and admiration, so that I thought I could almost give my
mustang his liberty, throw myself on the ground and spend the whole
season among them. Occasionally too a light breath of wind would rise,
and blow the mingled perfumes into my face, giving an enjoyment no less
pure and refined, and most difficult to express.