23. CHAPTER XXIII.
ST. JOHN MAKES HIS ENTRY INTO RICHMOND TOWN.
On the following morning, at early dawn, the young man
was in the saddle, and followed by the grooms, leading the
race-horses, set out for Richmond town. He had volunteered
his services to see his uncle's horses safely conveyed and
entered at the races there[1]
—his intention being to proceed
thence to Williamsburg.
The cavalcade traveled slowly in order that the horses
might be in the best possible condition, and as the races
did not take place till the next day, St. John stopped and
spent the night at Cawson's, the residence of his friend,
Colonel Theodoric Bland. Little John Randolph and his
mother were still there, and the young man held in his arms
the afterwards celebrated orator of Roanoke.
On the next morning, early, with the exchange of many
cordial good wishes, he set out again on his journey, and
crossing in the ferry-boat, entered Richmond town in the
midst of an enormous crowd, attracted by the double festival
of the fair and the races.
The town was scarcely more than a village straggling
along a winding creek which emptied its bright waters into
the James, flowing in serene majesty from the foot of the
falls away into the immense forest.
On a hill to the west, above the river, foaming over huge
rocks, and encircling the verdurous islands scattered over its
bosom, rose from the foliage of May the single fine dwelling
house of the town, “Belvidere,” some time the residence of
Colonel William Byrd, whose large warehouse for tobacco
rose above the village. On the opposite hill, to the east,
the old church of St. John peeped from the forest, and was
gilded by the brilliant sunlight.
As the young man passed on through the row of log houses,
with their wooden chimneys, against which an ordinance
had been lately passed, he saw representatives of every
clime almost. There were Dutch and Portuguese from
sloops in the river, negroes just landed from Africa, and
vagrant Indians come to purchase rum with their furs. The
Africans spoke their native dialect, and the rest a broken
patois, and the numerous goats swarming in the streets, and
peering into every thing, added their bleating to the hubbub.
Almost every class and tongue was represented in the
streets, from the swaggering foreign sailor to the well-bred
gentleman in his coach, and the small village, usually so obscure,
had become almost a city on this the day of the fair.
Mr. St. John pushed his way onward, through men, and
women, and children, and goats, and reached the door of
the tavern, a long building overflowing with revelers.
He had his animals baited, and then applied himself vigorously
to the substantial viands set respectfully before him
by mine host of the “Rising Sun.” Having satisfied his
material wants, he issued forth and looked around him on
the hubbub of the fair.
It was a sufficiently entertaining sight, and worthy of the
pencil of Hogarth. Unfortunately, we do not possess the
burin of that great humorous genius, and must content ourselves
with saying that those favorite deities of Virginia,
Fun and Frolic, seemed to be ruling the great crowd despotically.
This crowd was, as we have said, of every possible description
of personage—from the wealthy and richly dressed Virginia
planter, to the traveling showman announcing, in discordant
accents, like a bull of Bashan, from the opening of
his canvas booth, the wonders of his three-headed pig, or his
greyhound with eight legs.
The great master of the science of thimble-rig here puzzled
the rustic clod-hoppers with his feats of legerdemain;
a step further, a serene and solemn gentleman was stationed
in the rear of a table covered with a figured cloth, on which
a number of pistoles would be laid down by betters, to be
raked immediately into Mr. Sweatcloth's pouch; still, a step
further, an Italian boy turned summersets, and sang and
played with his monkey, and from the crowd assembled
round these various spectacles, and games, and exhibitions,
came a ceaseless buzz of talk and laughter, rising at times into
a shout almost, and deafening the ears with joyous discord.
Mr. St. John pushed his way through the crowd, exchanging
greetings with a hundred acquaintances, and entered
the grounds of the fair proper.
Here it was no longer confusion only—it was Babel. A
specimen brick, so to speak, had been brought from the edifices
of dealers in all imaginable commodities, and Mr. St.
John found himself assailed on a dozen sides, in as many moments,
by the merchants.
Would his honor like this fine saddle? or perhaps this
handsome cloth? But before the victim could reply, he
was entreated, by the merchant opposite, to purchase a full
set of variegated china.
Would he look at these buckskin knee-breeches, as fine
and pliable as satin? And no sooner had Mr. St. John declined
the knee-breeches, than a country lass offered him a
set of frilled shirts, which seemed to have been made with
especial reference to the foam of the sea, so elaborate and
immense were the ruffles.
The young man put aside every thing, laughing, and went
through the whole grounds uncaptured. He paused beside
more than one chariot to pay his respects to young ladies,
and finally found himself opposite the judge of the races on
the ensuing day.
The judge was a portly gentleman, of about thirty, with
a large bundle of watch seals, an enormous frill, and a bearing
at once dignified and agreeable. He wore a huge peruke,
fine buckskin breeches, and fairtop boots with spurs—boots
covering feet of the dimensions of kneading troughs.
His large hands were encased in gloves, and the right glove
held the handle of a riding whip, ornamented with silver.
When this worthy saw Mr. St. John, he made him a profound
bow, but immediately raised his head with dignity.
“Well, Mr. Lugg,” said St. John, shaking hands in a
friendly way, “I have come to enter some horses. How
are the lists?”
“Pretty well filled, Mr. St. John,” replied Mr. Lugg, saluting
an humble passer by in a friendly and condescending
way; “pretty full, sir, but we're glad to have as many entries
for the purse as possible.”
“I forewarn you—Belsize or Serapis will win it.”
“That's as it may be, sir, for there are some beauties entered.”
“Have you any horse?”
“Yes, sir—that is, a mare. If there's a question connected
with her, of course I do n't act as judge.”
“Exactly. What's her name?”
“I call her Donsy, sir—after my lady. A thorough-bred,
by Selim, the Arabian of my friend, Captain Waters, out of
Juliet, whom I purchased of my friend and neighbor, Mr.
Champ Effingham. He wished to make me a present of the
mare, but of course I could n't accept.”
And Mr. Lugg raised his head with dignity.
Mr. St. John smiled, and asked his companion to come
and look at his horses, and see Mr. Gunn with him—this
latter gentleman being the manager of the races.
Mr. Lugg obeyed with alacrity, and more than once returned
a salute from a gentleman riding by—holding Mr.
St. John's arm.
They went to the race course, which was in an old field,
toward the east, and to the stables.
Mr. Lugg, and his friend Gunn, expatiated at length upon
the merits of the different horses, and bestowed discriminating
praise upon Belsize and Serapis, who had already been
entered by Mr. St. John's servant.
They then returned, conversing, to the inn.
Night fell upon the fair, but it did not diminish the
revelry. In the great room of the “Rising Sun,” especially,
was the uproar perfectly tremendous.
When Mr. St. John entered this apartment, his attention
was attracted by a figure mounted on the great table, high
above the immense roaring crowd, which figure shook in
his hand a parchment, and, with violent gesticulations, demanded
to be heard.
At last Mr. St. John made out that the orator was offering
the title deed of a lot in the town of Richmond, to any
one who would treat the crowd, himself included, to a bowl
of punch, of the best Scotch whiskey.
The young man looked on, curiously, to see what success
this offer would meet with, and his patience was rewarded.
A little personage with a tie-wig jostled through the
crowd, and took and examined the parchment. The examination
seemed satisfactory, and the gentleman in the wig
signified his willingness to close with the owner's proposition.
The crowd received the speech with shouts of applause,
and mine host was ordered to brew an ocean of punch, the
offer being unlimited.
Mr. St. John saw the gentleman in the tie-wig roll up
the title-deed and retire, after speaking to the landlord;
and then the young man retired too, fatigued with his
ride.
As to the parchment thus purchased, it was the title-deed
of the square upon which St. Paul's Church now stands, in
the city of Richmond.
