University of Virginia Library

“Five long years have we lived under the same
roof, pursued the same studies, or rather the same
studies pursued us;—engaged in the same dissipation,
drank of the same sour wine, shed the same
vinous tears, discussed the same dinners and suppers,
enjoyed the same dances,—stag dances, I
mean,—played the same music, belonged to the
same society, and, I was going to say, fallen in love
with the same nymphs; but that brings me to the
subject of this letter. I am in for it! Yes, you
may well look surprised! It is a fact! Who is
the lady? you ask. I will tell you,—that is, if I can;
her name is St. Clair. O! she is the most lovely,
modest, weeping, melancholy, blue-eyed, fairhaired,
and mysterious little creature you ever
beheld. If you could only see her bend that white
neck, and rest her head upon that small hand, her

eye lost in profound thought, until the lower lid
just overflows, and a tear steals gently down that
most lovely cheek; and then see her start up
stealthily to join again in the conversation, with
the most innocent consciousness of guilt imaginable;
—but what is it that brings these tears to sadden
the heart of one so youthful and so innocent?
`There's the rub,' as Hamlet says. Yourself,
Lamar, and I were unanimous, as you perhaps
remember, that men generally suffer in proportion
to their crimes, even in this world. I here renounce
that opinion, with all others founded upon
college logic. A half-taught college boy, in the
pride of his little learning and stubborn opinions, is
little better than an innocent. But, you ought to
see this fair sufferer in order fully to appreciate
the foregoing opinion. You would see child-like
innocence—intelligence—benevolence; in short,
all that is good, in her sad but lovely countenance.

“But to return to college logic; what is it?
Conclusions without premises, ends without means;
and opinions adopted without any of the previous
and inevitable pains and penalties attendant upon
the acquirement of human knowledge, or, in other
words, without experience! I would take one of
our old break-of-day club to tell the flavour of a
ham, or the difference between a bottle of Bordeaux
and Seignette brandy, as soon as any one; but
what else did they know? or rather what else
did we know? Nothing! not literally nothing,
but truly nothing. If I now wanted a judicious
opinion upon any subject, I would go to an experienced

man! one that had suffered in order to
learn; an original thinker for practical ends.

“You ask me concerning my cousin, Virginia
Bell; her with whose miniature, infantile as it
was, you fell so desperately in love, and whom, yet
unseen, I promised to yourself. She flourishes,
Randolph, and is as beautiful as you could desire;
she is yet unengaged in heart or hand, so far as I
know; but you know, that the little sly, dear,
delightful creatures will complete a whole life-time
of love affairs, while fathers, and brothers, and guardians,
and affianced lords unloved, may be looking
on none the wiser. And they will look as innocent,
and as demure, and as child-like, as my dear beautiful
little enigma of the Black Mantle.

“You say you `hate Yankees;'—my dear fellow,
you forget that you and I would be considered
Yankees in London or Paris. The national denomination
we have abroad, is `the nation of Yankees,'
or the `universal Yankee nation.' 'Tis galling
to our southern pride, I grant you, that we
should be a mere appendage, in the eyes of a foreigner,
to a people who are totally dissimilar to
us. We must brook it until we can outdo them,
in literature at least. They are (say many) retailers
of wooden nutmegs—unfair dealers, and a
canting, snivelling, hypocritical set; tell me where
the country is, where the population is growing
dense—where means of living are scarce—land
high—trades overstocked—professions run down—
and manufactures injured by foreign competition,

in which the little arts of trade, and `tricks upon
travellers' do not also flourish. Let the population
of your `old dominion' be once multiplied
by wholesome legislation, or rather let the yearly
emigrants be induced to stay in the land of their
sires, and the same cunning usages will prevail.
As to the `canting and snivelling,' you must allow
something for the descendants of the Pilgrims.
Besides, tell me, liberal sir, if you have not, in the
very bosom of your great valley, as genuine Presbyterians
and Roundheads as ever graced the
Rump Parliament, or sung a psalm on horseback.
And to give the devil his due, these same Presbyterians
are no bad citizens of a popular government.
But there is the lady of the Black Mantle. Observe
that she was born north of the Potomac, yet I would
wager any thing that you could not look steadily
upon her face for one minute, and curse the Yankees
as I have heard you do. I know you will
say, therein lies the cause of my sudden conversion
to Yankeeism. By no means! I had begun to
find out that the Yankees had souls like other
people, before I had ever seen her.

“I approve of your determination to travel, and
that even to the south, rather than not to travel at
all; but is there not some danger lest a Virginian
should become more bigoted, by travelling among
a people still more bigoted than himself. I know
your disposition; it is to hug up your dear southern
prejudices within your own bosom. Lamar and I
are becoming liberal, and then we will cast out

devils for you. Do not forget that I shall have a
mother and cousin there by the time you arrive at
the high hills of the Santee. Lamar has taken desperately
to a six foot Kentuckian, as fine a specimen
as you could wish to see; he is what may be
called an American yeoman of the west.

“Thus far I have flown before the wind—sand,
I should have said. At any rate, here I am, in this
town of German religionists. Here dwells the first
unanimous people I have ever seen. They are
Moravians; and every thing is managed by this
little community for the common benefit. They
have one tavern, one store, one doctor, one tanner,
one potter, and so on in every trade or occupation.
Besides these, they have a church, and a
flourishing female seminary. The latter is conducted
upon the utilitarian plan—each lady, in turn,
has to perform the offices of cook, laundress, and
gardener; and, I need hardly say, that it is admirably
conducted. After I had visited all these
establishments — for every respectable looking
stranger is waited upon by some one appointed for
that purpose to conduct him thither,—I returned
to the large, cool, and comfortable inn, and had

scarcely seated myself to enjoy the comforts of
nicotiana, when a small billet was handed to me
by a handsomely dressed and polite black servant
with a glazed hat, which not a little astonished me,
you may be sure. I had not a living acquaintance
in the whole state that I knew of; except, indeed,
old Father Bagby, the master of ceremonies to the
little community. It could not be a challenge
from some Hans Von Puffenburg of these quiet
burghers: so I concluded it must be a billetdoux
from some of the beautiful creatures at the
seminary on the hill. You can easily imagine,
therefore, that I was no long time in tearing it
open; when, behold! it was, in good truth, from a
lady. Can you guess who? No. Then take the
note itself entire.

“ `If, as I believe, you are the same Mr. Randolph
who was a room and class-mate of my son
Victor Chevillere, in college, I will be very glad
to see you. The servant will show you to our little
parlour.

“ `I am the luckiest dog alive,' said I, jumping
nearly over the negro's head. `Is your young
mistress here also.'

“ `Yes, masta, she is just leaving school for home,
so please you.'

“ `Please me!' said I; `to be sure it does please
me; I never was more pleased in all my life. For

I was just about to forswear these eternal pinebarrens
and sand-hills, and face to the right-about.
So lead the way to your two mistresses.' Whereupon
he led the way, hat in hand, to a room in the
inn; and there, Chevillere, sat your honoured
mother. Commend me to our southern matrons
in high-life. Not that I know any thing against
your northern ladies, old or young; but there is
in our mothers a mild dignity, hospitality, and politeness,
which makes every one at home. But I
need not describe to you your own. But I will not
promise you as much of the little blushing southern
brunette, who gracefully arose on your mother's
saying, `Mr. Randolph, my adopted daughter Virginia
Bell Chevillere.' I saw in an instant that
you had told her of our college bargain, and my
falling in love with her miniature. By-the-by,
you ought to break that slanderous miniature, or
the head of the dauber who perpetrated it. Her
beauty never could be delineated on ivory or canvass.
Can any one paint the living, breathing soul
of a very young and beautiful female? No! and
I'll tell you why. If a man had the genius to do
so, the very enthusiasm which always attends it
would throw him into very unpainter-like raptures
at the sight of such a one; and that's the true reason
why artists so seldom succeed in delineating
young females. A precious piece of logic for you.
But to return to the original of the picture; there
was a blushing consciousness about the little Bell,
as everybody calls her, which was truly charming.
Her jet black hair and eyes shone like ebony; her
brilliant white teeth and brunette complexion were
radiant with blushing smiles at this first reception
of her long-promised husband. There was no
girlish pouting, or childish affectation, as is too
often the case when the parties have been laid off
for each other; she was at the same time modest
and self-possessed; her fairy figure glided about,
as if her little fairy foot scarcely touched the carpet.
I tell you these things, because you asked me
to do so in all plainness of speech. Your cousin is
all that a cousin of my dearest friend should be—
lovely, intelligent, and interesting.

“Your mother intended to wait here for some
male friend, who has diverged a day's ride from
their route home from the Springs; but she has now
determined to leave this place to-morrow. I shall
escort them as far as the Chevilleres' proud family
seat, Belville. You will, therefore, hear no more
complaints of the dreariness of the eternal pine-barrens,
or the fever-and-ague appearance of the
poor; except, that I will say now, once for all, that
the poor of a slave-country are the most miserable
and the most wretched of all the human family.
The grades of society in this state are even farther
apart than in Virginia. Here, there is one
immense chasm from the rich to the abject poor.
In the valley of Virginia, or in the country where
you are, there are regular gradations. The very
happiest, most useful, and most industrious class of a
well-regulated community, is here wanting. Their
place is filled up by negroes; in consequence of

which, your aristocrats are more aristocratic, and
your poor still poorer. The slaves create an immeasurable
distance between these two classes,
which can never be brought together until this
separating cause be removed. You know I am no
abolitionist, in the incendiary meaning of the term;
yet I cannot deny from you and myself, that they
are an incubus upon our prosperity. This we
would boldly deny, if a Yankee uttered it in our
hearing; but to ourselves, we must e'en confess it.
If I am, therefore, an abolitionist, it is not for conscience-sake,
but from policy and patriotism.

“We can never rival those northern people, until
we assume the modern tactics in this provincial
warfare; that is, throw aside all useless baggage,
and concentrate our energies upon a single point
at a time. I have done with this theme for the
present, and will repair to your friends.

“Your mother knows nothing of our college-treaty,
therefore she little thinks what a masked
enemy she has let into the camp. Little Bell
smiles, and enjoys our mutual understanding highly.
But there lies the mischief; she smiles too innocently,
and too calmly, and too openly, and has lost
too much of that blushing mood in which she first
received me; and I have thought several times
that the little arch gipsy was laughing at me. If
she had not been your cousin, and my affianced
bride for the last five years, I should have taken
leave. You know I never could stand to be exhibited;
and would prefer being shot, at any time,

to being laughed at. I shall watch the little fairy,
and see if she is making me her butt; if so, I will
see them safe to Belville, and then—you shall hear
from me again.

“You requested me to point out to you any
thing in which I should observe that the Carolinas
differed from Virginia. I must say then, with the
judges, when they are pronouncing sentence, `however
painful may be the duty imposed upon me,'
that your country appears more miserable the
more deeply I penetrate it. Not that you lack
splendid mansions, and magnificent cotton-fields
varied with flowers, rich and tropical gardens, the
orange and the `pride of India,' your wild and fragrant
swamp-flowers, princely hospitality, accomplished
men and women,—not that you lack any of
these. But the seeds of decay are sown at the
very point where energy — enterprise — national
pride—industry—economy—amusements—gayety
—and above all, intelligence, should grow, namely,
with your yeomanry!

“I would not, if I could, have your young
men and women transformed to spinning-jennies.
Heaven forefend! I would have your lowest class
of whites elevated to the dignity of intelligent and
independent yeomen. How would I effect it? you
ask. Apply the grand lever by which all human
movement is brought about—hope! Has a poor
North Carolinian hope? See him, on some cloudless
morning, when the glorious rays of the sun
are gladdening the hearts even of the unintelligent

creation, standing within the door of his pine-log
cabin, his hands in his pockets, his head leaning
against the door in melancholy mood. Some half-dozen
pale and swollen-faced children are sitting
on a bench against the side of the hut, endeavouring
to warm away the ague in the sunbeams. The wife
lies sick in bed. The little fields are barely marked
out with a rotten and broken-down pole-fence,
and overgrown with b room, or Bermuda-grass,
and blackberry-bushes. A miserable horse stands
beyond the fence, doubtful whether there is better
grazing within or without. A little short-cotton
and sweet-potato patch, flanked by an acre of
scrubby Indian corn; and, added to these, five
poor sheep, two goats, and a lean cow, complete
the inventory of his goods and chattels. You have
all his cause for hope! You have, too, his causes
for fear. He has in his pocket a summons for debt,
contracted for sugar and tea, and other needful
comforts, for his sick wife and children.

“Had he any cause for hope? God knows he
had none in this world. But you will say the picture
is exaggerated. As I am a true man and a
southern, it is not.

“I was benighted, and sought lodgings in the
very house I have described. `Who lives here,'
said I, on riding to the door. `One Fifer,' said a
white-headed, half-grown girl, so weak that she
could scarcely stand. I sat up nearly all night
with the sick woman and children. On relieving
the poor man's embarrassments in the morning, I

received the heart-felt thanks of the wretched
family; and almost rode my horse to exhaustion,
to get away from the wretched image imprinted
on my memory.

“Is this man a sample of the yeomanry of your
country? I say, in deep and profound sorrow, I
believe that he is. Where, then, does the evil lie?
This is a question which every southern must soon
ask himself, and one which Nullification cannot
answer.

“Here, then, is a triumphant answer—an answer
in deeds, instead of words—in the happiness, the
prosperity, and the substantial wealth of these simple
and primitive Moravians. Here, where I am
writing, is an industrious, intelligent, and healthy
community, in the very heart of all the misery I
before described. Let us then improve by the lesson,
seek out the sources of their prosperity, find
the point where their plans diverge from ours, and,
my word for it (if there be no reason in the case),
we become a great, a flourishing, and a happy
people.

“But I must take one small exception to the
Moravian political economy. They require all the
young gentlemen to be enrolled on one list, and all
the willing young ladies on another; and the first
gentleman on the list must marry the first lady;
so that they are drafted for marriage, as our Virginia
militia are drafted for duty. I do not know
that this is certainly true; but if it be true, that a
youth must marry the first that comes up, nolens

volens, I would put in a plump negative. This excepted,
they are worthy of all imitation, even to the
drinking of home-brewed in their pewter mugs,
and smoking long pipes around their council-table,
when their little legislature meets.

“There are no slaves in this little nation, and
labour is no disgrace. In the extensive grounds, belonging
to the female seminary, I saw many pretty
little arms bared to work; not Moravian young
ladies only, but elegant and aristocratic young
ladies from all parts of the southern states, without
distinction, and of every sect and denomination;
and I never saw more beautiful complexions.
The little gipsies would come in from their work
in the morning, blooming as roses. Here is a
complete refutation of the assertion, that the whites
cannot work in a southern climate; here are as
fine lands, and as fine husbandry and horticulture,
as can be found in any country; here are the first
paved streets south of Petersburg; here the first
town, in which water is conveyed by pipes, as in
Philadelphia; here the first stone-fences and grass-plots.

“Your mother and little Bell are cheerful and
happy. Indeed, the latter looks as if she had never
suffered for a moment. How happy a life is that
of a girl at a boarding-school, exempt from all the
pains and penalties of collegians—the `hair-breadth
'scapes'—the formal trials for riding other people's
horses,—ringing church bells,—building fences
across the road,—hanging cake and beer signs at

magistrates' and elders' doors,—burnings in effigy,
fights at country weddings and dances,—exploring
expeditions in the mountains and caverns, professedly
for geological, but really for depredating purposes,—shooting
house-dogs,—expeditions upon
the water, and skating upon the ice,—swimming,
duelling, fighting, biting, scratching,—firing crackers
and cannons in college entries,—heavy meat
suppers, with oceans of strong waters,—and then
headache, thirst, soda and congress-water in the
morning, and perhaps a visit from the doctor or
the president,—presentments by the grand jury for
playing at cards and overturning apple-carts,—
personating ghosts with winding-sheets, and getting
knocked on the head for their pains,—serenading
sweethearts, and taking linchpins out of wagons,
—making sober people drunk and drunken people
sober,—battling with watchmen, constables, and
sheriffs,—running away from the tailors and tavernkeepers,—kissing
country girls, and battling with
their beaux,—tricks upon the tutors, and shaving
the tails of the president's horses,—stealing away
the lion or the elephant at an animal show, and
pelting strolling players,—putting hencoops upon
churches, painting out signs, and carrying off platforms,—throwing
hot rolls under the table, and biscuit
at the steward's head,—playing musical seals
at prayers, and saying prayers at rows,—gambling
in study hours, and filching at recitation,—having
one face for the president and another for the fellows,—and,
finally, being sent home with a letter
to your father, informing him that you are corrupting
the morals of your teachers in these pranks.
These are a few of the classical studies into which
the dear little innocents are never initiated, while
they form no small part of collegiate education in
America, as we can testify from experience.

“Many a fine fellow makes the first trial of a
stump speech, with an extract from an Irish sermon
at a drunken row; his head perhaps stuck three
feet through the window of the little bar in a tavern,
and his audience sitting round on the beer-tables,
armed with sticks, stones, and staves. One,
who with drunken gravity keeps his head and stick
moving all the while, says, that he concurs fully
in opinion with the speaker; though, if asked what
the subject is, he swears it is the Greek question.
The question and the laugh go round. One avers
stoutly that it is Catholic emancipation; a third
vociferates that it is a complete justification of
Brutus for killing Cæsar; a fourth thinks it a part
of the recitation of the day, while the most drunken
man of the company jumps down from his seat on
the table, and swears that he can see through the
fellow clearly, `it's nothing but sleight of hand;'
with which he exclaims, as he rubs his eyes and
looks round, `Bless my soul, boys, how drunk you
all are; come, I'll help you to your room before
matters get worse,' leading off the soberest man in
the room. The party then breaks up in a regular
row; I think I see the old fellows now, marching
off two and two with the true would-be sober and

drunken gravity, every man thinking that he is
completely cheating his neighbour, by his picked
steps and exactly poised head and shoulders, like a
drunken soldier on drill. One gets into a carriage
rut; another climbs into a pig-sty, and thinks he
is getting over the college fence. A third falls
over a cow, while a fourth takes off his hat to a
blind horse, mistaking him in the dark for the president.
At length they are lodged in bed, with boots,
hats, and clubs, like soldiers expecting a surprise.
Some murder a song or two in a drunken twang,
while the rest snore in chorus.

“But next comes the awful reward of transgression
in the morning; dry throats, aching limbs,
torn coats, sick stomachs, haggard countenances,
swelled heads. The trembling and moody toilet is
made; the bell rings for prayers; and a more repentant
set of sinners never assembled under its
sound. All wonder what has become of the joyous
feelings of the previous night, and think with
shame of such actions and speeches as they can
recollect. Hereupon follows a gloomy and melancholy
day. They are home-sick. Relations,
friends, and the scenes of childhood, with all their
quiet, innocent, and heartfelt pleasures, glide before
the imagination. The head becomes dizzy; the
heart palpitates; the hands tremble, and the sight
grows double. Then comes the fear of illness,
and death in a strange land. Associates of the
`row' are avoided; several chapters in the Bible
are read; repentance is promised; sleep settles

the nervous system; and next morning they arise
gay and happy. This continues until the scene is
repeated, and so on, until one half forswear brandy
and the other half become confirmed sots.

“Here is a coherent epistle for you. But if you
dislike it, send it back, and I will divide it into—
first—secondly—thirdly, et cetera, as the old
president did his sermons.