LETTER XXXVIII.
TO AGATHA.
I have left the island of the sun and of the palms, and am once more on the continent of America.
On the 3d, I went on board the pretty but expensive steamboat, the “Isabel,” where nothing was good, excepting the captain and mate. My host at Havannah, Mr. Woolcott, had the politeness to see me on board himself, and to take charge of my luggage. He is a good and polite host, and understands perfectly everything which a traveller requires, and his hotel in Havannah is excellent, nor is it very dear, except during the so-called winter months, when the concourse of strangers to the city is extraordinarily great. Besides which, Havannah is one of the dearest places in the world.
The last view I had of the Queen of the Antilles showed me her enveloped in dark clouds, the precursors of tempest. The sea rolled high, and the vessel rocked tremendously; and the Morro light was seen like a flambeau on its lofty rock, as the vessel rose on each ascending billow, to be again lost when it sunk into the abyss of the waves. That beautiful, bright light which so often gladdened me during the evenings and nights of Cuba, seemed to me now in the rising tempest and darkening night, like some signal of misfortune flashing forth from the stormy horizon. On the day previous, there had been an eclipse of the sun, and around the sun a vast black ring. This seemed to me a prophetic token; for the internal condition of Cuba, the despotism of the government, the prevailing venality and the thirst of gain, the bitter dissatisfaction of the creoles, the state of the slaves, the continuance of the slave-trade, which annually peoples the island with thousands of wild Africans—the longing glances which America casts upon this new Helen, all forebode a stormy future, and it may be, a terrible, bloody crisis! May I be an untrue diviner!
Ah! this beautiful island with its delicious breezes, its glorious trees, its lovely evenings, its eternal summer—I shall always love it as one of God's most beautiful creations, and be thankful that I beheld it, and have learned from it the better to understand a new heaven and a new earth!
My secret wish and hope is that Cuba may one day, by peaceful means, belong to the United States. When the United States shall comprehend within themselves the regions of the tropics, and shall thence extend their realm of states, then first will it become the universal realm which it ought to be. And Cuba in the hands of the Anglo-Americans would soon discontinue the slave-trade; the gospel would be preached to the slaves; the fortress walls of the bohea would be converted into pretty American slave-villages; and perhaps the noble-minded laws of Cuba respecting the slave might be incorporated into the legislative code of the Union, when Cuba itself became a part of the Union.
I arrived in Charleston on the morning of the 11th of May, and amid the brightest sunshine, which nevertheless seemed like moonlight, or like veiled sunshine; so gloomy and dim appeared to me the light on the walls and roofs of Charleston, or amid its shadowy trees, after the pomp and glory of sunshine to which I had become accustomed in Cuba. I could not help continually looking up to the sky, to see whether the sun were not obscured by cloud.
But what heartfelt pleasure it was to me to see Mrs. W. H. and her family once more, and to talk with them about Cuba, and to spend with them, in joy and tranquillity, one whole, beautiful day!
My thoughts, however, were not just now bent on tranquillity and quietness. I was about to undertake new journeys and new adventures. I desired to see Florida, and easily persuaded my good Mrs. W. H. to accompany me, being sure that the journey would give her pleasure, while it would be a great joy to me to make it in her company.
The determination must be quickly made. The following day a steamer left for Savannah, and there I was to meet with the Mac I. family, who, according to an agreement of a year's standing, were to make by it a journey to Florida, up the beautiful river St. John.
No sooner said than done. The next morning saw Mrs. W. H. and myself on board the steamer bound for Savannah. It was the most beautiful May morning, and just as we reached the shore, and were about to go on board, there was my friend from Belmont with a bouquet of flowers, and some other friends also. How kind and how delightful!
And now, after a day's pleasure-sail on the river, I am once more in this verdant city, once more among old friends, good, kind, and hospitable, as formerly—Mr. and Mrs. T., Mrs. B., and many others.
I found the Mac I.'s in deep sorrow on account of the death of a beloved daughter and sister in the past autumn. The father, however, the estimable Colonel Mac I., and his youngest daughter, an intellectual and highly cultivated young girl, were ready to accompany us to Florida, where we were to pay a visit to the eldest son of the family, who was married and lived there. On my return, I shall visit the plantations of a Mr. C., where, I am told, I shall meet with the ideal of plantation-life in the Slave States.
On the morning of the day after to-morrow, we set off by a pretty little spick-and-span new steamer, “the Magnolia,” and intend to go up the river St. John as far as steamers can go, that is to say, as far as Lake Munroe.
Miss Dix, who came by steamer to Savannah, has joined our little party, as she also wishes to visit Florida. The weather is glorious, the moon is at the full, and I am full of the desire for travelling, and the desire to see Florida, the flower of the Southern States, the land of which the delicious balmy odours made the Spaniards believe that the fountain of eternal youth was hidden there. And now—thither, thither, to taste its nectar!
Very seldom are letters written from a steamer which lies on a green meadow; it is from a steamer in that very predicament, that I am now writing to you. And how long it and its passengers are so to lie—depends upon the moon and human kindness; but, we have reason to suspect the good-will both of one and the other, at this moment.
The first day of our voyage was a particularly merry one and the ladies of our little party were very amusing to each other. Miss Mac I., now removed from an environment of sorrow, bloomed forth into such fresh life and vivacity and wit, as her earnest, classical countenance had not led me to expect from her. Mrs. W. H. has always a fund of calm, good-natured humour at hand, and the two together excited Miss Dix to a friendly quarrel. We had also a certain dominant and philanthropic lady on board, who would domineer over us all, and who made “mountains of mole-heaps.” But we took it all in good part and were very merry. Our pretty little Magnolia, wedged its way gaily, in all sorts of curves and angles, through the swampy flats where, among many currents, it had to find out its own. I could not help admiring its courage and its many expedients, only it seemed to me to have quite too great a fancy for the land, for we often struck against the banks, whilst we swung between them, but there was often no space to take any free sweep.
“Beautiful evening, Missis!” said the black helmsman, looking out of his little house on deck, with a good-humoured countenance, and addressing one of the ladies of our party.
“Yes, but—shall we soon reach our quarters for the night?”
“Oh, yes—oh yes, immediately! We shall soon get along. Don't be uneasy, Missis, Ma'am!”
Shortly after, when we were all sitting at tea, the vessel was suddenly heaved up, as by a strong wave, and then—we stood still, although the engines kept working on for a moment. The captain, who was sitting at the table, and a couple of other gentlemen, sprang up and rushed out.
It was apparent that the ignorant extra-ordinary helmsman (the ordinary one lay sick at Savannah) had mistaken the channel of the stream, and had steered us directly upon a projecting point of land. It was overflowed with water, for the moon was that evening at her full, and it was high tide.
At ebb-tide, therefore, the next morning, we found ourselves lying entirely on dry land, with green grass growing around us, and just by a grove of live-oaks and flowering Magnolia-trees, which latter, may have exercised some mysterious attractive power upon our poor little Magnolia, which now lies with its head turned towards the grove, just as if it would plough its way right into it.
We were quite fast. And we are still sticking quite fast now on the 17th, amid the green grass and the clay, saluted in the evenings by the whistling notes of the whip-poor-will, from the Magnolia-grove, and in the morning by brilliant butterflies. A whole regiment of negro slaves are busied in digging around the keel of the vessel, to loosen it out of the sand and the clay, but thereby only to reveal the depth to which it is imbedded.
On the first day, we said; “When the tide comes up in the evening, then——”
But when the tide came up it did not rise as high as on the preceding evening, and the moon, now past the full, looked down upon us coldly and let us lie where we lay.
“In the morning, when the steam-boat, ‘the Gaston,’ passes by,” we now said, “it will give us a pull and help us off!” and Miss Mac I. proposed that all the ladies should, on the approach of the Gaston, come on deck, and show themselves with handkerchiefs to their eyes, and so move, by that means, the probably hard heart of the captain of the Gaston.
The morrow came and the smoke of the Gaston was seen, and the smoke of hope ascended from our hearts.
The Gaston approached, paused, looked at us. The tide was in. We were full of anticipation of the Gaston's “pull.” But the hard-hearted Gaston only looked at us and went on his way, and left us to our fate on dry land. (N.B. The moving scene of the pocket-handkerchiefs was forgotten!)
Great indignation in the Magnolia. Our dominant lady vowed that she would draw up a declaration of indignation against the Gaston and put it in the newspapers. She proposed to the ladies on board a declaration of esteem for the captain of the Magnolia, and his gentlemanly conduct, which we applauded and signed.
Our hopes are now fixed on the steam-boat, St. Matthew, which is expected to-morrow evening, and that it may show itself to be a good apostle, and take us on board, because it is clear that the Magnolia cannot be released at present, as the moon decreases every day, and the tide is lower also, and the Magnolia sinks deeper every day from its weight, in the sand.
We in the meantime console ourselves with good humour, and a ramble every now and then on the shore, which we can do dry-shod from the vessel.
The ladies are especially good-tempered and merry. Good Mrs. W. H., who cannot live without her housewifely activity, began to wash her muslins, and recommended herself as a laundress of fine linen, to all whom it might concern, but got scolded for laziness and want of skill. Miss Dix, on the other hand, being suspected of theft, was threatened with the house of correction, and thus we laughed heartily and amused ourselves, especially Miss Mac I., in whose breast the fountain of youth seemed to well forth afresh, and who could not herself understand how she could be so lively; and in the evening we celebrated the birthday of our captain's pretty little daughter. I wove a garland of wild flowers for her; the other ladies gave her little presents, and the little girl was very happy, and sprang forward to exhibit herself to her father.
There was in company a lady, not yet forty, handsome, tight-laced, and well-dressed, with light curls, and thoughts evidently directed to the world and its pleasures. This lady is nevertheless a widow after her third marriage, and the mother of twelve children, nine of whom are dead, and two married, and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
“And you got very well through all this?” said I with some surprise.
“Yes, indeed,” replied she, evidently well satisfied with herself and her own strength of mind.
“And you would not perhaps be unwilling to marry a fourth time?” said Mrs. W. H., a little curious as to the reply.
“Oh, no!” replied she calmly, “not if I could better myself by so doing.”
Miss Mac I. was so indignant at this that she could hardly restrain herself from breaking out upon her.
Among the gentlemen was a young Californian adventurer, just returned from the land of gold, and on his way back to his wife and his home, with divers lumps of gold, melted and unmelted, Californian ducats, and a white China silk shawl for his wife. He was a handsome young man, more of a dandy, and more childish than is usual for an American, but all suitable for a Californian adventurer. I wanted to know something about the country, and the people, and the way of life in California; about the Chinese and their social state, their mode of worship, &c. But the young man merely knew that he had with him many nuggets of gold, and a Chinese silk shawl for his wife.
This afternoon we went a little way inland, and saw a fine cotton plantation, beautifully situated upon a lofty terrace by the river. It belonged, as we were told, to a Mr. Valburg. I was particularly pleased with some of the slave-dwellings which I visited, and which bore evidence of a certain degree of prosperity, as did also the appearance of some of the slaves who had returned from labour.
There stood beside a well a very old negro-woman, who was come hither to fetch water. I asked her how old she was.
“A little better than a hundred, ma'am!” was her reply.
The negroes have a great desire to be very old, and really do live to extreme old age when their life is easy.
I should have retained nothing but the most agreeable impression of this plantation had I not, in returning to the shore, met at a gate the overseer of the plantation (the owner and his family were abroad) and in him had seen a strong-limbed young man, with that fierce, lawless, wandering gaze, which I have remarked in many overseers on the plantations, and which takes away all faith in the justice and integrity of their treatment of the slave. The slaves who are digging around our vessel, are strong-built, and work hard, but as silently as if they were digging a grave. This is not natural for negroes, and is not a good sign.
There is the most beautiful moonlight in the evenings, and the melodious but monotonous cry of the whip-poor-will, resounds from the Magnolia grove. In the daytime the heat is great and—may St. Matthew only have mercy upon us!
I now write to you from the heart of blooming Florida, reposing upon one of its lovely mirror-like lakes, with horrible alligators swimming around our little floating dwelling (a very ricketty steam-boat, named Sarah Spalding). A garland of dark green wood, resembling myrtle, surrounds the great lake, for at this distance we cannot distinguish between groves of orange and palmetto and forests of cypress. The whole shore is low, and the lake as clear as a mirror, and everything profoundly still around it. No cities and towns, no steamboats, no boats of any kind, no human beings, excepting ourselves, the Florida travellers. Here is infant land, nay, almost wild land still. But how glad I am to be now in the poetical wilderness of Florida, to have seen something of its marvellous, natural poetry!
St. Matthew proved a good apostle to us; and on the afternoon of the 18th received us all into his bosom, poor, stranded sinners as we were, but who nevertheless did not experience any want, and were not much to be pitied, excepting that it was tiresome to lie quiet in a steamer on a neck of land, in the midst of the hot sunshine. Our captain, however, was mostly to be pitied, so were some of the men, who were already taken ill. Our deliverer, St. Matthew, did not come very near to us, but had us fetched off in a boat. Four negroes rowed us. I was thinking that they were rowing well, and with great precision, when our dominant lady, who is known to be very philanthropic to white sinners, and was keeping a sharp look out on the blacks, said, the very next moment, in a stern voice:—
“Why do you not row with more vigour?” and then turning to me, she added—
“One can see by their chests and their breathing whether they exert themselves as much as they are able.”
The dominant lady thus sate and watched the respiration of the negroes, with her eyes rivetted upon their bare chests, to ascertain whether they exerted themselves to their utmost to serve her and us. I am obliged to confess that this lady was from one of the States of New England. Such is the philanthropy of many American women.
Our dominant lady in the meantime did not get any one to concur in her remarks and admonitions. The negroes rowed calmly, but regularly and well, the heavily loaded boat; and we all came happily on board the St. Matthew. And we soon found ourselves, to our great satisfaction, sweeping along the Attamahah river, whose waters here in the neighbourhood of the sea are salt, and seemed in the evening twilight like a river of brightly-flowing silver, full of sparkling diamonds.
St. Matthew had already many passengers on board; and among them were three pair of turtle-doves of the human race. The first pair, physically handsome but second-class people in cultivation and manners, were so in love with one another, and showed it to such a degree that it was quite disgusting; the young man, with a huge breast-pin of sham diamonds in his shirt frill, confessed to an acquaintance in the company that he considered himself to have married the most perfect woman in the world. But her perfectly handsome person did not appear to me to entertain much soul within it. Turtle-doves No. 2, were of a more refined character altogether, agreeable people, with the loving soul beaming from dark and beautiful eyes; she, very delicate in health, after only one year's marriage; he, very anxious about her. Turtle-doves No. 3, were neither of them any longer young or handsome, but they were of all the three pair the most interesting and perhaps the most happy. It did one good to see them and to hear their history.
They belonged to the poorer class of white people, of Carolina and Georgia, living in the most sandy and sterile part of the country, without schools or any means of education. She married her husband without the consent of her relatives, and when some time after their marriage they fell into great poverty through some fault of her husband, her relatives gave her a home on the strict condition that she should never again see him. He, extremely angry at this prohibition, swore that they should never see him again until he came to fetch away his wife to her own home. He went away, and not a word was heard of him for seven years. She remained in the meantime with her parents, having her children with her, two boys and a girl, the youngest boy born just before the father left, and by degrees she lost almost all hope of ever again seeing her husband, whom she loved with all her heart. One day, however, the eldest boy exclaimed, “Here comes my father!” She could not believe him; she had for so many years waited in vain to hear from him. She, however, went out of the house to see the approaching stranger, and when she at a distance recognised her husband, she sank fainting to the earth. He had, after persevering exertions, succeeded in securing a livelihood as a carpenter in Florida, where he had built himself a cottage; and to this home it was, in the land of eternal summer, that he was taking his wife and children. The family were now on their way thither.
This new home lay on the banks of Lake Munroe; and there it was that the married pair would begin a new life. In that moonlight evening they kissed and rested one against the other, with the most heartfelt love and joy. He had a good and manly appearance. She had fine features, and had evidently been handsome, but seemed to have suffered from sorrow and hard labour. She could not be much above thirty, and he looked a few years younger than she. She rested her head upon his shoulder with an expression of deep confidence and peace. She needed no longer to labour alone for home and children, separated from her husband and surrounded by relations who neither esteemed nor loved him. He was with her; she had him now again, and what was still more, she had esteem for him as a man and a husband. He could and he would, from this time forward, provide for her and the children. He was taking her far far away from the dreary sand-hills, where she had suffered so much misery, to the blooming Florida; orange-groves would over-shadow her dwelling on the banks of the lake, and the summer winds of Florida call up fresh roses on her pale cheeks. All these delicious feelings and thoughts might clearly be read in the expression and demeanour of this husband and wife. They seemed to me the happiest of human beings, excepting—myself, who saw them, and to whom God has given so much enjoyment in the happiness of others.
The youngest child was a nice little lad, handsome and cheerful, with a smart little cap on his head; the oldest boy, fifteen years old, was not so nice; and the girl of fourteen, Molly by name, was a black line in the romance of the parents, for although not ugly, and with the father's good looks in her round countenance, she was a genuine daughter of the sand-hills, and had grown up with her old grandmother, like a pine-tree in the sand, without any more trimming or training than it. Our dominant lady took this wild shoot of humanity under her charge, and her attempts to educate the young novice, and the girl's spirit and mode of behaviour, furnished us with subjects for many a hearty laugh.
The first night on the St. Matthew was hot and oppressive in the crowded and narrow saloon. The floor was strewn over with outstretched ladies, some of whom were handsome, two quite young and with regularly classical features, very lovely in their sleep, and their reposing position; and when I could not sleep, I amused myself by contemplating them with an artistic eye from my elevated berth.
By evening we had left the river Altamahah, and after a few hours by sea, we found ourselves the next morning in the St. John's River, after having happily passed a dangerous sand-bank at its mouth without suffering more than a severe shock occasioned by a swell of the waves dashing us against the bank, and which made old St. Matthew creak in all his joints. But he did not go to pieces, which sometimes happens under such circumstances, in which case we should all infallibly have gone to the bottom, so that we had nothing to complain of.
Several of the passengers left the vessel at various colonies and plantations by the way, so that it became less crowded and more agreeable; and I enjoyed, inexpressibly, the glorious morning, and the journey up the river.
St. John's River—in the Indian language, Welaka or the Lake-River—is like a chain of larger and smaller lakes, linked together by narrow but deep straits, which wind in innumerable sinuosities between shores, the wonderful scenery of which is scarcely to be imagined, if none similar to it have been seen before. Here is again primeval forest such I saw on the Savannah river, but still richer in its productions, because Welaka flows, for the greater part, under a tropical sky, and below the boundary which frost approaches. We see here thick groves and belts of palmettos; here are wild orange-groves laden with brilliant fruit which there are no hands to gather; masses of climbing plants, vanilla, wild vines, convolvuli, and many others, cover the shores in indescribable luxuriance, forming themselves into clumps and bushes as they grow over the trees, and cypresses, which present dark green pyramids, altars, perfect temples with columns, arches, porticoes, shadowy aisles, and on all hands the most beautiful, the most ornamental festoons flung along, and over the clear river. From amid the masses of foliage towers upwards the fan-palm, with its beautiful crown, free and fantastic; the magnolia stands full of snow-white flowers, and, pre-eminent amid that republic of plants, flowers, and multitudes of trees, stand the lofty cypresses like protecting, shadowy, patriarchs, stretching out horizontally their light-green heads, with long waving mosses hanging down from their strong branches.
Here is the life of Nature in its luxuriance; but it is the realm and reign of the old Pagan god of Nature, old Pan, which embraces both the good and the evil, life and death, with the same love, and which recognises no law and no ordination but that of production and decay. Beneath these verdant, leafy arches which overshadow the water lie the peaceful tortoise and the cruel alligator also, waiting for its prey. Elks inhabit these natural temples, also panthers, tigers and black bears. Around these columns of leaves and flowers wind the rattlesnake and the poisonous mocassin, and that beautiful, romantic forest is full of small, poisonous, noxious creatures. But more dangerous than all is the pleasant air which comes laden, during the summer, with the miasmas of the primeval forests and the river, bringing to the colonist, fever, and slowly consuming diseases; and causing these wondrously beautiful shores still to lack human inhabitants. Small settlements have been commenced here and there on the river, but have, after a few years, been deserted and left to decay.
It is, however, precisely this primeval life in the wilderness, this wild luxuriant beauty defying the power of man, and vigorous in its own affluence, which is so unspeakably interesting to me, and which supplies me with an incessant festival. And the air is so pleasant, and the magnolias so full of flower, the river so full of life, alligators and fishes splashing about, large and beautiful water-fowl on all hands; everything is so luxuriant—so wonderfully rich, wild, and lovely—it is a never-ending fairy scene; especially in the evenings when the moon rises and throws her mystic half light and half shadow into the arches and pillared aisles of these marvellous natural temples. I sit in silence on the piazza, and gaze upon it with devotion and rapture, as, at every bend of the river, new and striking scenes present themselves; happy when I can thus sit alone, or with my good Mrs. W. H. at my side, in company with whom I am always right.
But we are not without our little disturbing occurrences. On our first morning on the Welaka, St. Matthew, through carelessness, ran upon a snag, and this gave the dominant lady a deal to do in the way of reproof and command, and we had to lie still for a good hour to repair our damage. Molly of the Sand-hills was always in our way, and when we by any chance stood in hers, we had nothing to expect but a good slap. Our dominant lady's educational management became more strict, but we began to lose all hope of the power of cultivation on this daughter of the wilderness. We had all sorts of droll scenes, and the gay young Miss Mac I. amused both herself and us, by her observations on Molly and her ways.
The pair of turtle-doves No. 1 and No. 2 were landed at the little colony of Pulatki, which is in the midst of a hot sandy plain; and which, probably, was on that account more healthy than other situations surrounded by luxuriant vegetation. The turtle-doves No. 3 would accompany us to Lake Munroe.
We refreshed ourselves at Pulatki by a grand washing and good milk. We are in Pulatki in the region where frost has power—where it is occasionally felt, though it does little damage. Somewhat more to the north in the district of St. Augustin, a large plantation of sweet oranges was entirely destroyed about two years ago by frost, and the only wealth of several thousand persons thus perished. At Pulatki, however, I recognise the climate of that balmy atmosphere and soft, fanning airs which I breathed in Cuba. This air can only exist where frost cannot come.
Amid this enchanting air there lay at this time in Pulatki, far from his relations and friends, a youth who was dying of consumption. He was from Philadelphia, had journeyed to Florida for the recovery of his health; but the disease had overpowered him. The balmy winds of Florida sported in through the window of his room; a faithful negro sate and fanned the sick youth with a fan—in vain! Fever consumed him, and he could not have many days to live. He was handsome, with large blue eyes and fair hair. His grandmother was a Swede, and he bore her name of Rudolph. Feeble as he was, it yet seemed to give him pleasure to see his distant country-woman. He was now bent on returning to Philadelphia, and believed that he should be able to get there; but Miss Dix, always tenderly watchful over the sick, took the young man's address in Philadelphia in order to inform his relations of his danger.
We were at Pulatki delivered over by St. Matthew to the care of the little, ugly Sarah Spalding, which made me this evening almost repent of my undertaking, at least on account of my friends. Everything was in the highest degree uncomfortable and poor, and our cabin swarmed with cockroaches. But, I have scarcely ever laughed more than I did this evening. Miss Mac I. entered the cabin in a sort of merry rage against the disturbers of our peace, and pursued them with a comic fury; Mrs. W. H. too, like this splendid young girl, was so resolved to look at all our difficulties on the amusing side that—everything became a subject of mirth.
The moonlight nights were glorious, and we sate out till late on the little triangular piazza aft of the steamer, and two young sisters with sweet voices, sang “Dearest May,” and other delightful negro melodies; the scenery of the banks assumed more and more of a tropical character. We then slept a little, and I, for my part, soundly, spite of the cockroaches. Our dominant lady, however, who considered it her duty to watch over our comfort, and who was very uneasy all night, made horrible tigers out of little mice.
Early the next day, we lay to land, to take in fuel, and I went on shore to refresh myself after the uncomfortable night. The country seemed altogether uncultivated and wild. A little foot-path, however, wound into the woods, and along it I went, à la bonne aventure, on an expedition of discovery, and as I wandered alone here through the wilderness, my wings unfolded, and my whole being was full of joy. But then the morning and the wilderness too were so unspeakably beautiful! The live-oaks stood in their magnificence with their masses of hanging moss, their arcades penetrated by the beams of the ascending sun. The morning dew lay fresh and sparkling on the leaves of the amber-tree, on the innumerable small plants and bushes which bordered the path. The earth was full of fragrance. I kissed the dew from the leaves; I laid them upon my eyes, my brow, those fresh morning leaves of the young new earth; I wished to bathe anew in this Urda-fountain; I wept, half from pain, half from unspeakable gratitude and joy. Light as a bird I went onward, and sang a hymn of praise with the birds, for I had here indeed drank of the refreshing draught for which I had thirsted, during a long pilgrimage in the desert; I had drank—I still drink the fulness of life from the fountains of God's abundance, and was sustained alone by His power, and by the wings which he had given me! Who was more free, who was more rich than I? What were the common joys and pleasures of life, those which I had childishly thirsted after, in comparison with those which now were mine; and not mine alone—might, would become those of many others, if the many only knew that—God gives them wings, and teaches them how to use them.
Thus rambled I onward, full of blissful emotions and thoughts, until I reached an open space in the forest, where man had been, where probably a settlement had formerly existed. But now the place was deserted. The lovely forest surrounded in silence the open, deserted spot. Neither man nor beast was to be seen. It was a profound, wild solitude. I so much enjoyed my morning ramble, that I wished Mrs. W. H. to participate it, and returned to seek for her. I found her sitting on the shore at the foot of some cypresses, but as she was not inclined for the walk, I seated myself by her and noticed clusters of small white flowers, which, surrounded by a garland of leaves, floated on the water like little flowery islands. I did not know their name, but had before observed them as we came up the river. As they grew on the water close to the shore, I examined them and found that the whole plant was fastened by merely one slender thread-like root to the soil at the bottom of the water. This was easily broken by wave and wind, and the plant with its white flowers in the midst of its circlet of leaves, like the “draba verna” was now proceeding on its foreign travels, the sport of wave and wind.
Our state on board the “Sarah Spalding” was somewhat perturbed this morning. A couple of young and very pretty girls who are on board, without their mother or any older friend, had by their giddiness and thoughtlessness caused two gentlemen to pay them unbecoming attentions, which led to our dominant lady's very proper interference. The young girls received a very suitable admonition from two of the elder ladies, who, however, were strangers to them, and one of the faulty gentlemen was publicly reprimanded by the captain of the steam-boat. He was an elderly man, and had such a good expression of countenance, that I could scarcely believe that he deserved the rebuke which he received, and which affected him so much, that he became ill.
It was with real pleasure that I heard the true and beautiful motherly reprimand which Mrs. W. H. gave the handsomest and, according to appearances, the most blameable of the young girls, and I saw with equal pleasure the manner in which the young girl received it. She stood silent before the elder lady, who had called her to her, and listened silently and respectfully; not a word, not a gesture, betrayed vexation or impatience; she seemed as if she would really let the good and wise words sink deep into her heart, as if a good seed for the future had been sown in her soul. I was the only one of the elder ladies who did not give the young girls a moral lecture. If the truth must be spoken, I had more inclination to address, as a sister, the sweet young girl who had received the motherly rebuke so beautifully. Perhaps she understood my good-will, for certain it is that during the day, she seemed to wish to prove to me hers by various little agreeable services; and when we, in the evening, separated, she took leave of me in a manner which made me give her a cordial “God bless you!” Why were such young lambs sent out alone into the wilderness among wolves and eagles without any controlling or guiding friend? It is neither right nor well. My faith in the good and the pure in young girls is great, and has been strengthened even by this little occurrence; but people should not treat young children as if they had already cut their wise teeth.
Our journey was enchanting the whole day; we emerged from the narrow, winding river-passes into a large, clear lake, surrounded by luxuriant, verdant banks. The affluence of vegetation and animal life seemed to increase with every hour; the Flora of the tropics and the atmosphere of the tropics seemed to approach; we advanced into the home of eternal summer. The wild sugar-cane, the maiden-cane grew along the banks, and showed that the soil was favourable for sugar cultivation. The temple of nature became still richer. Beautiful, gorgeous flowers, red and blue, upon long stalks, white lilies, and gigantic water-plants, among which was the tall alisma plantago, shone like stems of light beneath the dark-green arches; flocks of little green parrots flew twittering over the wild sugar-cane and into the palm-groves; wild turkeys, larger than our tame ones, were seen on the shores; lovely, slender water-fowl fluttered fearlessly around us, and equally fearless, but much less lovely, thousands of alligators swam in front of, and on each side, of our vessel, and fish leapt and splashed about as if they were out of their senses, but whether from terror or from joy I know not. It was a grand spectacle the whole way.
We were also more comfortable on board, for our little coterie was now almost alone on the “Sarah Spalding,” and there was added to it an enlightened and agreeable French creole, Mr. Belle C., from Cuba, who, with a friend of his, were on a journey of discovery in Florida, to ascertain the availability of the soil for sugar-cultivation. His society was a great pleasure and ornament to our little party. The captain was a polite and good-natured man, and the crew, who were all negroes, seemed to have very much their own way; but that was a good way; they were all agreeable and cheerful. The cook, a young man, who cooked very good dinners, was a really witty fellow, and said and did many very amusing things. But the pearl of the black company was our little waiter, the negro boy, Sam, clever, intelligent, and willing, who attended to all our little wants, waited at table, and did everything, and was always merry. We had no female attendant on board, which we found to be an advantage; because these ladies are, in the American steam-boats, not frequently patterns of their sex, or of their race, whether they be white, black, brown, or yellow. We had, however, on the St. Matthew, a remarkably agreeable and also very handsome young negro woman as stewardess; she was a free woman, married to a free negro.
The only annoyance I experienced the whole way was the lust of shooting which possessed one of the passengers in particular, and who was not contented with shooting alligators right and left, but who even shot the lovely water-fowl, which, however, he could not make any use of, and it was distressing to me to see them fall down wounded, here and there, among the weeds. I took the liberty of speaking my mind to him about this needless shooting. He smiled, agreed with what I said, and continued to shoot. I wished him, in petto, bad digestion!
As regards the alligators, I could not have very much compassion on them. They are so hideous to behold, and are so terrible; for though they do not attack grown people, unless in self-defence, still they carry off the little negro children without ceremony. They swim with the upper part of the body above the water, so that it is not difficult to hit them with a bullet in the body and the fore-legs. On this they dive down, or, if severely wounded, turn on one side; they are often seen like masses of living mud, rolling themselves on the shore to hide themselves among the water-reeds that grow there. Their number and their fearlessness here are amazing. It is said that even two years ago they were so numerous that it was difficult for boats to get along. They make a sort of grunting or bellowing sound, and it is said that early in the spring, at pairing-time, they make a horrible noise.
I spent the whole day on the piazza, dividing my attention between natural scenes and the perusal of Columbus's journal, which he kept during his first voyage of discovery among the enchanting islands of the new world. Molly of the Sand-hills was troublesome all day, though she mostly kept out of the way of our dominant lady. In the afternoon we passed many wild orange-groves.
We reached Lake Munroe, the goal of our journey, last evening. Beyond this point there is neither steam-boat nor yet any carriage-road. Mr. Belle C. left us here, intending to continue his journey of discovery through the wilderness on horseback. We landed at Enterprise, a new settlement, with a hospital, in the neighbourhood of Fort Melun, which also is situated near the Lake, and is erected as a defence against the Indians. The house at Enterprise stood in deep sand, and the rooms seemed so uncomfortable and the people so ill, that we determined to pass the night upon the Lake in our little floating habitation, with which we are now become almost good friends. We put off, therefore, from the wretched, temporary quay at the unfortunate Enterprise, steered nearer to Fort Melun, and cast anchor at a short distance from it. At no great distance from the shore, stood the home of the turtle-doves No. 3, and they were now about to leave the steamer. It was a beautiful sight before they left to see the husband and the wife sitting together on their baggage, quietly but joyfully awaiting the boat which would take them on shore. It was beautiful also to see them in the little boat, with their children and their effects, advancing towards the verdant shore, nodding a friendly farewell to us. If the daughter Molly had only been a little more charming! The last torment and the last memory of her was, when she took hold of my shoulder, just as a man would take hold of a hedge-stake to help himself to climb up a bank, as her father's voice was heard calling her to the boat. No, no, amid the summer of Florida, she ought yet to bloom out like a rose, and be married to the commandant at Fort Melun, or to the owner of Enterprise.
We lost sight of the colonist family when they reached the shore; but a bright light was soon afterwards seen glimmering in a house near the spot where they landed. It was now dusk, and twilight increased rapidly, although the sky was still clear. I sate for a long time on deck enjoying the quiet scene. The dark, low shore, lay like a vast myrtle garland around the mirror-like lake. Fireflies glimmered here and there above it, and fishes large and small, struck out their circles incessantly. The bird of evening, whip-poor-will, whistled his pleasing note from the shore, and the alligators grunted in chorus. The negroes of our little vessel began to play duets upon the violin and the flageolet very sweetly, and with excellent musical skill and feeling, all of them gay and sportive melodies. They continued this till towards midnight. From three places only on the shore were lights visible. The one was from an orange plantation belonging to a widow lady, the second from Enterprise, the third from the home of the colonist, the pair of turtle-doves, No. 3; and this burned remarkably bright in the growing darkness of evening. The whole region was low; no single object stood forth pre-eminently. A few clouds floated, or rather lay, like small islands on the western horizon, and melted by degrees into evening glow. I endeavoured in vain among them to discover some symbolic, poetical shape; the highest that I could arrive at was a lady in a quaker's bonnet, sitting on a hay-stack. She and all the other clouds changed themselves finally into a herd of little pigs and then vanished. The lights at Enterprise, and at the widow lady's, were extinguished. Every breath of wind had laid itself to rest; everything on the shore was dark; the light alone in the colonist's home still burnt, but dimmer, and finally it also was extinguished. But I saw it burning in the house yet. Towards midnight the negroes music was silent also, but the alligators, and the whip-poor-wills continued their duet the whole night through.
I could sleep but very little, although I felt perfectly well. But the spirits of the air called me, and I was obliged to rise again and again, and go out upon our little piazza aft of the vessel, into which the doors of the saloon opened, and there, attired merely in my white night dress, I contemplated again and again the tranquil scene. And still at early peep of dawn, when the stars grew dim, and only the morning star stood bright above the bright mirror of the lake, was continued the duet between the birds and the alligators. When the sun rose they became silent, and other birds then began to sing, and fishes to leap about: and the monsters of the river swam and swim still around us, pondering, as it seem, on our vessel and its provisions. The cruel sportsman is no longer with us, and we, in the Sarah Spalding, live at peace with the whole world, and merely, like the crocodiles, ponder about our breakfast.
Later.—We were bent on having fresh fish for breakfast, and therefore our captain let a couple of negroes row out in a boat nearer to the shore, and throw out a couple of nets, which were thrown out and taken in again at once; and in ten minutes we were breakfasting on a most delicious fish, which resembled flounders in taste. No fishermen as yet dwell on these banks, and the river swarms with life.
In the afternoon we commenced our return. I shall not advance any farther south in Florida, but I see here the character of the country and its scenery in this southern portion. The whole of this part of the country is low, and abounds in swampy ground and fogs, as well as in forests of firwood, called everglades, which are said to combine an amount of animal life which is truly astonishing. The natural historian, Agasiz, who saw these everglades for the first time this spring and summer, clasped his hands in admiration and devotion at the sight of these hitherto unknown riches of nature. Here, and yet farther south towards the Mexican Gulf, the country becomes still more flat, and the vegetation is divided between the half tropical, which I had already seen, and vast forests of Pinus australis, or light wood, in everyday language. Indians of the Seminole and Creek nations still live in these wild regions, and are dangerous to emigrants. In the most southern portion of Florida it is said that the cocoa-palm and the banana, might be cultivated. What an empire, what a world is North America, embracing all climates, natural scenery, and productions. It is indeed an empire for all the nations of the earth.
Again, my child, on a bank, but not in a steam-boat (our poor little Magnolia is said to be lying there still without any hope of getting off before the next full moon! melancholy!) but on a maize plantation belonging to relatives of the Mac I. family, where I am enjoying rest and refreshment with an amiable family, in a good and hospitable home. And very good it is to be able to rest after the fatigues and difficulties of the journey, which were not small by any means. There were indeed moments when I suspected that the first discoverers of these vast wildernesses could not have endured greater suffering than we did; baked as it were in an oven on our vessel, by the burning sun, and without water fit to drink. With Mr. Belle C. disappeared all our good, ice-cold water, and we then only discovered that the polite creole had allowed us ladies to enjoy the ice which he had brought from Cuba for his own use. There was now an end of that. Sarah Spalding had no supply of drinking water in her larder, and we were reduced to drink river-water, which was parboiled by the heat of the sun, and looked as if it were distilled from alligators. I could not drink it. But then the captain, at my request—a capital, good fellow, was that captain!—landed myself and co. in a wild orange-grove, and we there gathered whole sacks full of oranges, from which I brewed lemonade, and the whole company was refreshed thereby. That wild orange-grove was a wonderful sight. The captain and two of his men went on before with axes to cut a pathway from the shore. The wood itself was one wild tangle of thorny vegetation, fallen trees, and all kinds of bushes and plants. Within the orange-grove thousands of oranges lay on the ground, and on the slightest shaking of the trees, showers of others came down upon us. Many of the oranges which grew here were as large as small infants' heads. These oranges are sour, but very juicy, and of an agreeable acid, and these golden chalices of the wilderness afforded us a real refreshment. The captain's store of sugar diminished rapidly, but the good, kind man, said not a word, and so he had as much lemonade as he liked to drink. I had four of the huge projecting spines of the orange-tree, which are sometimes two ells long, hewn off for sticks for some gentlemen friends at home (brother-in-law, Q., and Fabian W., are of the elect). These sticks are very handsome when they are stained; they are very strong, and greatly valued by the American gentlemen. As memories of the orange-grove, we took away with us, besides oranges and sticks, a multitude of small insects of the species here called tick, and with which we became personally acquainted at home, as small, ugly, flat creatures, which eat into the skin. I was particularly infested by these inhabitants of the orange-grove, and laboured the whole day in getting rid of them. Among the adventures of our return, was the taking fire of our sun-scorched vessel in one of the lakes, which gave our dominant lady a great deal to do with her tongue. She made the quarter of an ell long flames two ells long, and if it had not been for her there would have been an end of us all! The captain and his men, in the meantime extinguished the fire so quickly and silently, that I did not know of the danger until it was over.
We suffered through the night from cockroaches and musquitoes, by day from the hot sun and suffocating fumes from the engine fire. Amid all these bitter moments came moments when the cool breezes enabled us to enjoy once more, the invariably beautiful and fantastic scenery, and the intercourse and conversation of friends.
One afternoon we saw a large crane-roost, as it is called, that is a republic of white cranes. It was upon an island, on which grew tall, shadowy trees. On the approach of the steamer, the republic rose into the air like a large cloud, then immediately after settled down again, and the island looked as if it were covered with snow.
We called, on our return, at two cities, Jacksonville and St. Mary. Jacksonville is an increasing city, its situation being very favourable for trade; but it lies amid sand, and was a horribly hot, disagreeable place. We slept there one night, at an hotel which resembled a noisy, wooden barracks. St. Mary, which is some years older, is not so well situated for trade, and is on the decrease; it however was more agreeable than Jacksonville, from the beautiful, shady rows of trees in its streets. Wandering here, I saw a well-dressed negro, about fifty years old, who was tatooed like the Luccomées, whom I had seen at Cuba. I addressed him, saying:
“You have come hither from Africa?” He replied, Yes; that he had been smuggled hither from Cuba many years ago. He was now overseer on a plantation, and was very well off. He was a Christian, and seemed pleased to be so. He spoke very sensibly and cheerfully, and had a good, open countenance.
“You do not wish to return to Africa?” said I.
“Oh yes, Missis; oh yes, that I do!” replied he, “there I should be still better off.”
“But people often kill one another there,” remonstrated I.
“Oh, but nobody troubles themselves about that. And there are a great many good people who live there at peace.”
“But, look here, my friend,” said Colonel Mac I., who is a strong Calvinist; “if you had remained in Africa, you would not have become a Christian as you now are, and then the devil, in the end, would have had you!”
The negro laughed, looked down, shook his head and twisted round his cap which he had in his hand, and at length exclaimed, again looking up with an expression of humour and inventive acuteness;
“Now, massa, look'ee here! The gospel is now being preached over the whole of Africa; and if I had remained there, what was to hinder me from being one who heard it as well there as here?”
To this there was no reply to be made; and the sensible, good-tempered negro had the last word.
One of our pleasant incidents was that our dominant lady left us by the way, to domineer, I should imagine, in some boarding-house of one of the cities in this part of Florida; and the atmosphere became much less oppressive in our little community in consequence. Miss Dix left us also to go to St. Augustin, the most southern city of the United States; the prisons and benevolent institutions of which place she wished to visit. Wherever she goes she endeavours to do good to the sick, the neglected, or the criminal, and to scatter the seed of spiritual culture wherever she is able. She scatters about her, like morning dew, as she goes on her way little miniature books called “Dewdrops,” containing religious proverbs, and numbers of small tracts, with pretty wood-cuts and ditto stories. Molly of the Sand-hills ought to derive nourishment from this manna which would suffice to make her a thinking and amiable woman.
St. Augustin was founded by the Spaniards, and is the oldest city in North America; the city still preserves the character and style of building which prove its origin, but of late years it has very much fallen into decay, and since the destruction by frost of the orange plantations, which constituted the principal branch of trade in the city, it has become still more deserted. It is now visited generally by invalids, who, during the winter months come hither to breathe its pleasant atmosphere and invigorating sea-breezes. St. Augustin lies somewhat to the south of New Orleans, but has a far more salubrious climate.
It was not until the year 1819 that Florida passed from the dominion of the Spaniards to that of the United States, and it became united to these, as an independent state, in the year 1845, but is said not yet to contain a greater population than about 80,000 whites. The Indians and the insalubrity of the swampy soil have retarded, and still retard, the cultivation of the country. But in the northwestern portion of the State the land lies higher, and is more cultivated, and has two increasing cities; the political capital, is Taleehassee; with beautiful plantations, villas, gardens, and, as I have been informed, pleasant domestic and social life amid that lovely summer warm scenery. And where the Anglo-American comes, there always come at the same time happy domestic life, friendly, social intercourse, and every comfort of life.
All these we enjoy also in this kind home, although joy is not properly at home here. The eldest daughter of the family, a beautiful, young, newly married lady in the bloom of her life and her maternal joy, died lately .in giving birth to her second child, and the grief of this weighs heavily on the mind of her mother. A splendid little grandson, very like his grandmother, and full of life, cannot console her; and her husband and the other children participate in her sorrow. The whole family has an expression of so much good-heartedness and gentleness, that one sees plain enough that the slaves cannot suffer. But the drought is fearful; the maize plants on this plantation are withered in the sand, of which this plantation has more than its ordinary share; and the harvest of this year wears a mournful appearance. It is now more than four months since I have seen a cloudy day. Even in this beautiful Florida, life is heavy and dry as regards the poor children of earth.
But when in the mornings early I wake and feel the balmy wind of Florida play through the white curtains round my bed, and hear the nightingale of America pouring forth, in its many tongues, its melodious inspirations in the trees before my window, then do I exalt the home of summer, and wonder not that Ferdinand de Soto and his young men were enchanted by it, and it seems to me almost unnatural that life here can be heavy or dark.
We remain here a couple of days in expectation of a good steamboat which will take us to Mr. C.'s plantation at Darien, whence we return to Savannah.
This plantation lies in a sandy tract, and the sand considerably incroaches upon the charms of nature and country life. There is here, however, a footpath by the river which follows a wild and woody shore, than which nothing more picturesque can be conceived, in particular the masses of trees and wild boscage, which rise like a lofty wall between the shore and the sloping cultivated land. Splendid magnolias, covered with white flowers, lift aloft among these their dark, shady crowns. The magnolia is the most magnificent tree of the Southern States. I wander here alone in the afternoons, wondering sometimes whether I shall hear, from the dense thickets, the warning signal of the rattlesnake, for this serpent gives warning before he makes an attack or approaches near. But although rattlesnakes are numerous in Florida, I have not yet happened either to see or to hear a living one. I however saw this afternoon one which the negroes had just killed on the plantation and brought to show the family. It might be about three yards long, and as thick as my arm. The head was much injured by the blows it had received, and the terrible poison-fangs were revealed. I have had the rattle with its fourteen joints given to me to take home with me to Sweden. A year ago a negro on the plantation was bitten on the leg by a rattlesnake; great endeavours were made to save the limb from amputation, but in vain; it was in the end obliged to be taken off, to put an end to the great and increasing suffering.
A pretty little village on the plantation is the home of the black nurse of the gentleman of the house, and there she rests from her labours, under circumstances which testify the tenderest care. She has her own neat little house, on a terrace by the river, and within it every convenience that an old person can desire; a comfortable rocking chair is even amongst these, and children and children's children whom she has faithfully nursed, visit her with love and presents. She has had many children of her own, but she acknowledged that the white children were dearest to her; and this affection of the black nurses, or foster-mothers, to the children of the whites is a well-known fact. Another fact also, which is often witnessed in the Slave States, is the tender care which is bestowed upon these faithful black foster-mothers in their old age, by the family, that is to say, when the families are able.
In front of my window, runs, broad and clear, the western arm of the Altamahah river, and beside it sits the undersigned upon an island on the coast of Georgia, between the river and the Atlantic ocean. I am now at the house of Mr. J. C., a planter, in the midst of gardens and olive-groves, where the family seeks for its summer pleasure and the salubrious air of the sea, when fevers begin to ravage the large plantation at Darien, the principal residence of the family.
Mr. C. is one of the greatest planters in the south of the United States, and owns about two thousand negro slaves, whom he employs on his rice and cotton plantations. He had been mentioned to me as a reformer who had introduced trial by jury among his slaves, with many other educational institutions to prepare them for a future life of liberty. And this created in me a desire to become acquainted with him and his plantations. But I did not find him a reformer, merely a disciplinarian, with great practical tact, and also some benevolence in the treatment of the negroes. In other respects I found him to be a true representative of the gentlemen of the Southern States—a very polite man, possessing as much knowledge as an encyclopedia, and interesting to me in a high degree through the wealth and fascination of his conversation. He is distinguished for his knowledge of natural history; he has a beautiful collection of the natural productions of America, and the lecture which I heard him read this morning, in the midst of these, on the geology and the rock formation of America, has given me a clearer knowledge of the geological structure of this portion of the world than I ever possessed before.
Mr. C. has an unusual faculty for systematisation, and for demonstrating the characteristic points of a subject. A conversation with him on any subject cannot fail of being interesting, even if one differs from him in opinion.
But as Mr. C., on the question of slavery, unites with the good party in the south, who regard the colonisation of Africa by the liberated negro slaves, as the final result and object of the institution of slavery, it was anything but difficult for me to converse with him on this subject, and that which naturally belongs to it. Neither could I do other than agree with him in the views he expressed regarding the peculiar faculties of the negro race and their future destiny, because they accorded with my own observations. Among those views of his which I must adopt, I recall the following:—
The tropical races cannot attain to the development and intelligence of the native whites in the temperate zones. They are deficient in the power of abstract thought, of systematisation, of pursuing strict laws of reason, and of uniting themselves on a basis of this kind. The tropical races typify the highest state of the life of feeling. Natural life imprisons them; released from this by religion, they would typify animal and vegetable life in their transfiguration. (N.B. This idea I believe was presented to Mr. C. from my magazine.) They are receptive of culture, and may, during their subjection to a more developed race, develope a very respectable capacity for thought and artistic ability. They may arrive at a respectable degree of semi-civilisation, interesting by the peculiar forms which it would assume from the peculiarity of the people themselves.
Mr. C. regards slavery in America as a school for the children of Africa, in which they may be educated for self-government on the soil of Africa. He was inclined to look at the institution of slavery as a benefit to them. And that it might be converted into a benefit is certain. But that it is the only means of imparting to Africa the blessings of Christianity and civilisation may be safely denied, and I had here the pleasure of letting the wise negro from Florida preach to the wise white man.
In urbanity and grace of conversation Mr. C. reminds me of Waldo Emerson; but in a general way the southern gentleman has too small a development of the organ of ideality, even as in the gentleman of the north it is too large. Mr. C. corroborated the facility with which the negroes acquire a knowledge of handicraft trades, and their dexterity as artisans. They have in Georgia begun to employ them advantageously in manufactures. I now remember having visited, last year, a cotton factory, near Augusta, in which coloured work-people were employed. It was not a sight which caused me pleasure, because I could not believe that the blacks would voluntarily choose this occupation, with its noise, difficulty, and dusty, unwholesome atmosphere—they who had been accustomed to the labour of the open fields.
I asked some women who were employed in winding, how they liked it. Two of them replied that they liked it very well, as well as any other work. An elderly woman, however, with a good countenance, said, with an expression of deep dejection and weariness, no, she did not like this work; she would rather work out in the fields. I did not wonder at this, for the place was not like one of the Lowell Mills.
The home here is full of gay, youthful countenances, six boys and two girls, the youngest of which is the image and delight of her father; and Mrs. C. is a youthful, pretty, and happy mother of this handsome flock of children.
Not far from the house is a troop of little black children, seventy or eighty in number, whom I visited this evening, and who wanted mothers. A couple of witch-like negro-women, with rods in their hands, governed the troop by fear and terror. I had been told that they also taught the children to pray. I gathered a little flock around me, and slowly repeated to them the Lord's prayer, bidding them read the words after me. The children grinned, laughed, showed their white teeth, and evinced very plainly that none of them knew what that wonderful prayer meant, nor that they had a Father in heaven.
The children were well fed. They were kept here, separated from their parents on account of fever raging on the plantations where they worked.
If I have not found here the reformer whom I expected, I have heard of two such planters, the one in Florida, the other in Georgia, who have established schools for the children of their negro slaves, with the intention of preparing them for good and free human beings. One of these gentlemen, Mr. N., is said to have the greatest hopes of the susceptibility for cultivation in the negro children, nay, even of its being greater than in the children of the whites.
Why have I not before heard of these Christian labours? I would have made every possible effort to have witnessed them, to have seen them with my own eyes. Such plantations in the Slave States may be regarded as holy spots, to which pilgrimages would be made by those who seek for the soul's elevation, and for new power to hope and to believe. What indeed have I been so zealously seeking for, and inquiring after, in these southern states but for such places!
It is not natural to me to look out for subjects of blame. I do not recognise such excepting when they force themselves upon me. I do not avoid seeing darkness, but I seek for the light which can illumine the darkness, in all, and with all. In the darkness of slavery I have sought for the moment of freedom with faith and hope in the genius of America. It is no fault of mine that I have found the darkness so great, and the work of light as yet so feeble in the Slave States.
Again here in the good home of my good Mrs. W. H., a home which is at the same time one of the most peaceful, and the most beautiful which I have found in the United States. It is an excellent thing to rest here a little while after the vagaries of the last three weeks, some of the fatigues of which were by no means small. But thus I have seen Florida, and have a better understanding of the nature and extent of that realm, that great home which is being prepared, in North America, for people of the whole world. From the home of eternal summer, I now journey up towards the home of winter, the White Mountains, in the most northern states of New England, and thence home, because I shall then have seen all that I desire to see on this side the ocean.
Among the memorable events of the latter part of our journey, I must not omit our morning journey in large boats of hollowed cypress trees from Ortega plantation to Jacksonville, where we took the steamer. The morning was glorious, and the negroes rowed vigorously and cheerfully. The gentlemen of the amiable family at Ortega accompanied us on board. They were of the good and the quiet of the land.
I parted from Mr. C. with sincere gratitude for his interesting society, and with a decided liking for one of the young sons of the plantation, whose broad forehead revealed a thoughtful, unprejudiced, and humorous turn of mind.
The place at which we were to take the steamer to Savannah was where the early city of Frederica had been founded by Oglethorpe, the first cultivator of Georgia. The situation appears to have been excellent, but of the city there now remains only two ruins, garlanded by green trees and bushes.
We arrived here in good time, but the steamer did not make its appearance for several hours. In the meantime it went on with us as in a fairy tale. A most charming little old lady, just like a good little fairy, received us into her house, a regular little fairy palace for beauty, comfort and attractiveness. Everything was bright and seemed to be alive from sheer cleanliness and care. The little lady,—old in years but full of youthfulness of mind, and with a pair of clear, lively blue eyes,—gave me, as she made a playful demonstration round my head, a knock on my forehead, which might have cracked the skull if it had been less thick. She spread a table for us brilliant with white linen and china and silver, and entertained us with tea and bread and butter, potatoes at my desire, eggs, and other good things. No, it would not have been possible for a meal spread by fairy hands to have been more delicate or more finely flavoured. The clever and cheerful little lady and I drank together a toast, “friendship and potatoes,” as the chief indispensables of earthly happiness. After this we proceeded to Savannah.
I saw in Savannah, besides good old friends—always good and kind—a seaman's home under the management of the ladies of the city. It was a simple, but well-ordered and successful institution, where the sailors, while in port at Savannah, may obtain, at the lowest possible charges, the best possible comforts in a large common hall, both food for the body and food for the soul—this latter consisting of good books and small tracts, containing treatises and narratives of a religious tendency. The lively, agreeable lady who conducted me thither, Mrs. B., the daughter of Judge Berrian,—is one of the directresses, and although a happy wife as well as mother of six boys and one girl, she finds time and heart to look after this home for the sons of Neptune, otherwise left to winds and waves more dangerous to them in the city than those out at sea. Wife, mother, citizen are the titles of the woman of the New World.
In the evening at the hotel, Pulaski-house, where I took up my quarters during the short time of my stay, that I might not be separated from Mrs. W. H., I made the acquaintance of a young lady, a planter, now come to the city with a family of seven boys all in succession, with but one or at the most, two years between them. Both mother and children were full of the fresh spirit of life, the gay young mother's only anxiety being to keep the merry lads from running about in the city, as they were accustomed to do in the country. They were going to be placed in a school here.
Families in North America are very large, although not so large as in England. The largest family I heard spoken of here was twelve children by one father and mother, but this was considered unusual; seven seems to be, in a general way, the largest number of children in a family. Nor is it unusual to meet with married pairs without children at all.
But I must now tell you something about South Carolina, because South Carolina is resolved at this moment to be a State for itself, apart from the other States. It is, in fact, extremely incensed by the injustice which it considers that the Southern States suffered in the last Congress, from the compromise between the Free and the Slave States on the Californian question; and a large convention of the wise men of the State has just been held at Charleston, at which, after having eaten and drunk together, they with great enthusiasm took the heroic resolution of seceding from the Union, and assuming a hostile attitude against its northern States. The Palmetto State seems to have calculated on meeting with co-operation from the other southern States, but it appears that she is mistaken in this respect. Georgia, Alabama, and Louisiana, and several others, have openly declared themselves for the Union, and I have read in the Florida papers keen disapprobation of the proceedings of the Palmetto State. Mississippi is now the only one which seems to stand undetermined whether or not it shall declare itself for the Union, or against it and for South Carolina.
In the meantime it seems as if South Carolina itself, like the great Emperor Philip of ancient memory, is of a different state of mind during the feast and after the feast, and that the good brothers who ate and drank together at Charleston, and there declared themselves for war, were, notwithstanding, much less inclined for hostilities when they had left Charleston and found themselves each one sitting quietly at home. Nor are there wanting wise and good citizens who openly declare themselves opposed to the heroic declarations of the great convention, over which people now make themselves merry. In one of the newspapers of the city I read to-day the following quotation from a speech, which is said to have been made by one of the warlike members of the great convention:
“Yes, gentlemen, I protest that when war breaks out I shall be one of the first to run across my cotton field, exclaiming, like General Washington at the battle of Waterloo, ‘A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!’ ”
From the observations which I have heard made, and which I have read in the newspapers on this convention and its consequences, one sees how vigorous and discreet is public opinion, and that it merely requires time.
And probably this declaration of secession on the part of South Carolina will merely be a proof of the internal strength of the Union to hold together, spite of the displeasure of individuals.
Mr. Poinsett's letter to the convention (to which he was summoned, but could not attend) is spoken highly of, as being distinguished in a high degree for its nobility and statesman-like wisdom. It counsels strongly to maintain the Union, and proves that South Carolina is wrong in her assertions.
I have received also a private letter from the noble old statesman, which has pleased me by the invitation which it contained for me again to visit him at his house, “that we might talk over together the present condition and future prospects of the United States.” I should very much like such a conversation with him, but I have not the time to go as far as his hermitage.
Among the topics of conversation of the day is a scandalous paper war, which is being carried on in the New York newspapers between private individuals. One of the principal literary men of the city is involved in the contest, which has reference to the good name and fame of two respectable ladies. The warfare is carried on with great bitterness and unbridled license, and the good and thinking portion of the public look on with annoyance and disgust, and also censure severely that inclination for coarse personality which is one of the greatest sins of the American newspaper press. Generally, however, even this spares women, who always find powerful defenders. A man who in conversation or through the press should allow himself to attack a woman, or to express himself coarsely against her, would be condemned by the better portion of the people as a man of bad education, and bad taste. A silent reprobation would exclude him from the better class of society. Thus noble and chivalric is the spirit of this country.
I shall now remain quietly here for about a week, partly because I find myself so comfortable here, and that I require rest, and partly to have my toilette refitted, under the advice and management of my good Mrs. W. H. I think more on this subject here than I did at home, because I must here appear as a Swede. I wish to do so with honour to my country, although with all becoming modesty. My costume therefore is always black silk, with a mantilla or light jacket, also of silk, trimmed with lace. You must fancy me when walking out in a white silk bonnet and veil, and black satin cloak or dress. I endeavour to combine gravity with a certain degree of elegance.
From this place, I propose proceeding through the highlands of North Carolina and Georgia, the remarkable scenery of which I wish to become acquainted with, into the State of Tennesee, by the Tennesee river, and so into Virginia, the old dominion, where I think of remaining some time, to make myself familiar both with the people and the scenery. It is now terribly hot here, and one is as if in a constant bath. I ought to write many letters, and read various things, but instead of doing so, I spend long hours in doing nothing but sitting in my rocking chair and rocking to and fro.
“It is all very well as yet,” says Mrs. W. H., “but when this heat shall have continued four or five months and seems as if it never would come to an end, then—”
No wonder that so many young ladies here seem pale and languishing.
Vegetation is in its highest glory, and the woods are splendidly in flower. The Indian-pride tree, the French-tree, the tulip-tree, the magnolia, shoot forth their splendid fragrant flowers. In the gardens roses and orange-blossom fill the air with perfume the fruit of the nectarine is set, and the fig-tree bears ripe fruit. People enjoy themselves, but with a languid animation. The evenings are the most beautiful part of the day, and my greatest enjoyment is to walk slowly backwards and forwards on the upper piazza, shaded by the trellised roses, and fanned by breezes from the river.
June 11th.—In the morning I shall leave this good home and this amiable family for ever. It is painful to me to say so, but so it is. I have spent delightful hours and days this time, also with them and with some other friends in Charleston. I have again infinitely enjoyed the society of Mrs. H., wandering with her in the myrtle-groves at Belmont for one whole beautiful day, and in conversation on subjects which deepen and expand life at the same time. Mrs. H. has more imagination than I have, and her poetical feeling, united to an intellect of no ordinary grasp, which, taking its stand on the earth, comprehends the universal relationship of all things, and which at the same time derives its aliment from a religious centre based on Christianity, makes my intercourse with her highly enlivening and beneficial.
I have received from many kind friends renewed proofs of their stedfast warm-heartedness, and from the noble Unitarian minister, Mr. Gilman, a blessing which I have placed within my heart. When I was one day making a sketch of his pure, ascetic countenance, I asked him, “At what age have you felt yourself most happy?”
“Between fifty and sixty,” replied he.
I heard his reply with joy, because I am approaching that age, and I have hope in its tranquillising power.
The young missionary, Miles, whose name and book you may remember as mentioned in my letter from this place last year, has had the pleasure of receiving some lines from the noble Neander in Berlin, containing these words, “The aged Neander extends his hand across the ocean, in brotherly union, to the young missionary in South Carolina, and in token of cordial acknowledgment.” Such tokens are joyful signs of the times!
Among the remarkable things which I have seen of late, I must mention the Slaves' Fair last Saturday evening, that is to say, when the slaves resident on the plantations come to Charleston with their wares and small manufactured goods, woven baskets, mats, etc., and set them out publicly, cry them aloud and sell them; the scene is lively, but it lasts only an evening!—a visit which I made to two negro schools; the large newly laid-out cemetery of Charleston, the Magnolia, and a night on Sullivan's Island!
One of these negro schools was for the children of free negroes. It was kept by a white master, and with open doors. I saw here an assembly of coloured children of all shades between raven-black and almost perfect white. The school-books, which I desired to see, were the same as those in use in the American schools for the children of the whites.
This school is a good institution, but evidently a dangerous element in the Slave States, unless it is kept in harmony by the instruction of the slaves, and the views which this will open to them.
I had also heard speak of secret schools for the children of slaves, but had extreme difficulty in discovering such a one, and when I had discovered one, to gain admittance into it, so great was the dread of the law's severity, which forbids, under a heavy punishment, the instruction of a slave in reading and writing. And when I did gain admittance into this secret chamber I found in a wretched dark hole only half-a-dozen poor children, some with an aspect that testified the greatest stupidity and mere animal life. They had evidently been brought hither as an attempt to humanise them.
Magnolia Cemetery is a new, noble, and magnificent burial-place, and an honour to Charleston. It is situated by the sea, the pure, refreshing breezes of which blow over it with invigorating life. Three sides have a background of magnolia and cedar forest, and on the fourth, lies the blue sea. The ground is flat but not swampy, and canals have been dug to bring in the river and sea-water, so as to form small islands and promontories within the vast burial-ground. Beautiful groups of southern trees stand here and there. The manner in which the people of America provide resting-places for their dead, foretells for them a long life on earth.
I saw in this new burial-place only two monuments, but they had each of them so peculiar and so dissimilar a history that I must relate them to you in few words.
The one marks the grave of a young girl. She was her mother's only child. It one day happened that she touched her eye with her hand after having just gathered the poisonous flower called here Night-shade (Solanun nigrum), which has a pretty, pale yellow flower, in form like that of our potato blossom,—and the eye became thereby poisoned. It became enlarged and deformed; and this enlargement, and the suffering which attended it, undermined the young girl's life. She withered away, but beautifully and piously. Her sufferings and her patience made her an object of general love. She and her mother converted the path to the grave, by the strength of religion, into a pathway of light; the Night-shade had no power over them. After two years of suffering, she died—if a good angel can die; and her grave is surrounded by memories of light.
The second belongs to the grave of a young man. He was an officer in the American army during the war in Texas, or Mexico, I do not exactly remember which. One day as he sate at the table with a comrade, he received an order to go to the commanding officer. In youthful insolence or pride, he said, “The deuce take me if I go!” or something of that kind. Nevertheless he went. The thoughtless expression, which had been overheard, was reported to the superior officer, who commanded that as a punishment, and for example's sake, he should be gagged for one or more days, I know not which. When the sentence was announced to the young man, he said, “From this time, I will never eat anything more. Nobody shall ever reproach me with having been gagged”
And he refused to take food. The superior officer, informed of his words and his conduct on arrest, repented of his barbarous and hasty command, and went himself to the young man to induce him to give up his resolve. But in vain. The young, determined soldier died of a wounded heart, and of hunger, within a week; to the inexpressibly bitter grief of his family, who were withheld from prosecuting, at law, the inconsiderate commander, merely by the mother of the dead—to whom the family of the other were nearly related—and by her saying, with truth:
“Revenge cannot restore to me my son!”
Great sufferings have already consecrated Magnolia Cemetery as a resting-place.
Mrs. W. H. and myself made the journey to Sullivan's Island alone. It was pleasant to me to make this last excursion in South Carolina alone with her; and with her for the last time to feel the sea breezes in the palmetto and myrtle groves of the island. A steam-boat conveyed us thither, and here we took a carriage to drive along the sands. Our driver was a Yankee of fifteen, good-natured and lively, who had come from Boston to Charleston to seek his fortune. The boy had gone to a common school, and was remarkably clever in his remarks and replies. We confided ourselves to his guidance, and deeply engrossed in conversation, it was not until after half an hour's time that we observed that instead of driving us on the firm sands, he was driving us quite into the water, and going in deeper and deeper. We called to the boy; he seemed to ponder about it, but said we should be soon right, and thus we drove on again for a while. The water, however, by this time was above half way up the wheels, and we were among deep holes; it was clear that we were not in the right road; and when we again spoke to our young driver, it appeared that instead of driving on the usual and southern side of the island, he had driven on the northern shore, because he wished to ascertain whether it was possible to drive also on that side. He had chosen this occasion for the experiment.
Mrs. W. H. laughed so heartily at the idea of the lad's scheme of trying an experiment with us which might have cost us our lives, that her anger lost its power. The boy was a little frightened, but smiled nevertheless, and would willingly have continued his experiment to the end; but this we utterly forbade, as we none of us knew what ground we were upon, and each fresh step might be our last. We alighted, therefore, among the bushes of the shore, and left the boy to find his way across the island with the carriage and horses, in the best way he was able.
We found our way through bushes and thickets, Mrs. W. H. laughing the whole way with incomparable good temper at the Yankee boy's characteristic scheme. After an hour's wandering, forcing our way through thick bushwood, and wading through sand, we found a footpath and traces of a fence. From this point we looked around us, and saw to our surprise, a carriage and horses standing on the top of the highest sand-hill in this part of the island. Was it? Yes, certainly it was our equipage which had ascended this hill from the water, and there on the box, sate quite tranquilly, the Yankee boy, looking around him, and spying out the geography of the island.
When, in the course of about two hours, we had at length piloted ourselves to the southern side of the island, and down to the fortress, there we found our Yankee boy and his carriage waiting for us as tranquil and good-tempered as if everything had gone on in the best manner possible.
We did not think that it had, and still less so when we saw, before we could reach the shore, the last steam-boat leave the island for the city. We should be obliged to remain over night in the island. But we found a good hotel, and we had the sea, and the beautiful moonlight, and thus that night on Sullivan's Island, a great portion of which was spent awake, remains as one of the delightfully memorable nights which I spent beneath the heaven of South Carolina.
To-day, as we were driving out of the city in a carriage, I saw a man taking along a young negro lad, with his hands tied with a rope. The man was on horseback, and the lad, he might be about fourteen or fifteen, walked behind the horse. He had probably attempted to run away, and was now brought in this manner to the city to be flogged. The people looked, with indifference, as on a very common sight. Beautiful manners!
On one of my walks in the city, with my good Mrs. W. H., we saw an old, well-dressed negro, sitting on a stone, bleeding at the nose. She stopped.
“Are you bleeding, daddy?” asked she.
“Yes, missis, yes,” replied he, very civilly, “it will not stop.”
“You shall have my keys, daddy, to lay on your neck, and then it will stop,” said Mrs. W. H., taking out her bunch of keys, and placing it on the neck of black daddy, and waiting awhile until it had produced the desired effect. Daddy thanked her heartily, but not as if for any unusual mark of kindness. Neither is such behaviour or such kindness shown by the whites to the blacks unusual either in the Slave States. But the institution of slavery causes the good and the bad master to be placed under the ban of one hatred; and yet they are as unlike as day and night.
My proposed journey through the northern parts of Georgia and Tennesee, like that of last year, must be wholly given up. The heat is oppressive; Tennesee River is dried up, so that it is not navigable for a steamer; and there is no other mode of conveyance for me, while the fatigue of diligences upon those wretched roads would be greater than I could support. I shall, therefore, also this time, confide myself to the sea, but merely for four-and-twenty hours, land in North Carolina and proceed through that State to Virginia. I shall probably take the same steamer northward as Mr. and Mrs. H.
I am perfectly well, my little heart, and my friends in Savannah and Charleston natter me with the assurance that I am grown younger in appearance, that I am wonderfully improved, and ascribe the change to the American climate (the worst climate under the sun for the renovating process). But I know better, and commend Cuba, and the good homes both here and there, before everything else. Blessings be upon them! But I have nevertheless become old in exterior, that I see and feel, and must prepare you for. The exertion of travelling, and the climate of the West, have left visible traces on me. I might tell you of something, however, which is renewed in me, but I dare not now.