For the Southern Literary Messenger.
J'ai toujours cru que lebonn'etait que lebeaumis en action.—Rousseau.
Amid the various changes in the customs and fashions of society, the abolition of old, and the introduction of new modes, which an age prolific in intelligent and important improvement has effected, it is matter of surprise, that some of the engines of reform, some of the batteries of satire, have never been unmasked upon the crude and barbarous fashion of dancing. Start not, gentle reader, when I saybarbarousfashion, for such dancing unquestionably is. Its very origin is barbarous. In a rude state, when the untutored savage is agitated by any strong emotion, as joy, patriotism, admiration, &c., his first impulse is to caper and skip about like a grasshopper. Among the records of the customs and manners of the most polished and civilized nations of antiquity, we seek in vain for the importance and admiration which attaches to this miscalled accomplishment at the present day. The Romans, perhaps the most accomplished and polite of the ancients, held the art in very low esteem. Indeed we find Cicero striving with all the force of his matchless eloquence, to vindicate his friend Muræna from the charge of being a dancer, preferred against him by Cato. So conscious is he of the weight of the imputation, that he makes it the subject of one branch of his defence, and, in a digression, recounts the brilliant services and devoted patriotism of his client's ancestors, to discountenance a charge affecting so seriously, the value and dignity of his character.
The Greeks, we are told, held the art of dancing in higher estimation, and it is said, considered graceful dancing one of the necessary constituents to the character of an accomplished gentleman; but the very word, and indeed the only one used by them to express the motion, [Greek: orchêsis], signifiedmimicry;plainly intimating its derivation from the buffoons and jesters of the stage, and consequently it never could have had much popularity in their more refined and elegant circles. As a religious rite it was in use, it seems, among the ancient Jews, and in celebration of the worship of the heathen deities of Greece and Rome, we find it only practised in the orgies of Bacchus, a fact of itself sufficient to mark it as a lewd, licentious and vulgar pastime. It was a favorite amusement of the ancient Scythians, the Chinese, the Goths, the Vandals, the Persians, and other barbarous nations of antiquity, and is yet in practice among the modern French and Italians, who, first introducing it in theatrical amusements, and then having carried the art to great perfection, have now transplanted it to the fashionable circles of domestic society. But it is rather in reference to its effects upon the present constitution of society, and its awkward adaptation to the chastened simplicity of the republican character, that I propose to consider dancing, than in regard to its estimation among the ancients.
Excellence innationaldances,as such, may deservedly be ranked among the highest efforts of skill and grace. We discover much elegance, certainly, in the easy and graceful evolutions of the Spanish waltz. There is a charming vivacity in the romping gaiety of the French gallopade; and even the oriental mazourka, is not devoid of a certain graceful beauty. But they derive their interest from the national and historical associations connected with them. We see the haughty Spaniard, proud indeed, but pliant, aptly pictured in the mysterious intricacy of the mazy waltz. The livelygalloppresents to our mind at once, the recklessnonchalanceand chivalrous gaiety of the Frenchman; and thus these dances come to us as faithful types of their national origin. But why may we not be content to witness this delineation of national characteristics upon our theatrical boards? Why should we take them from their appropriate sphere, and introduce them to the frivolous and undignified imitation of the polite and refined? I do not know a scene more faithfully descriptive of rude, boisterous, and unbecoming merriment, than an American ball room. Place your hands upon your ears, and look down the hall. You will see the most unmeaning grimaces—the most ridiculous contortions of body in one quarter—while another view presents to you the unwelcome picture of man, lordly man, fallen from his high estate, and going through the laborious operations of the dance, with the farcical solemnity of a monk, or the clownish rapture of a mountebank. People may say what they please, about those only opposing this capering vice, who cannot dance themselves. They may tell us, that Lord Byron wrote his fretful satire upon waltzing, because his lordship could not participate in that fashionable dance, owing to hisclub foot. They may preach, that the ignorant alone complain of those accomplishments which they cannot attain themselves; that the dances in practice, from time immemorial, among our ancestors, were equally objectionable as those we now adopt and admire, which certain bold critics, going beyond their province, dare to denounce as dangerous innovations, savoring of foreign modes and manners, licentious and demoralizing. All this will not do, Mr. Editor. Dancing is dangerous, andthe waltz especially:and a virtuous and intelligent community will unite, I feel assured, to frown these vicious amusements out of society, and consign them to the barbarous regions whence they were so irreverently introduced among us.
This mania for dancing, waltzing, &c., is the bane of every social circle. Do you go to pass the evening sociably with your friend, where you have a vague instinctive idea you will meet the pretty creature you passed in the street, on the Thursday previous—you will enter—your fondest anticipations are realized—you draw your chair towards her, and fall into a charming tete-a-tete, with the dear object for whom you already conceive a nascent passion—who has made you lose a whole week's sleep, break your mirror, tear your black silkbonnet de nuitinto fragments, and kick your faithfulvalet de chambredown stairs, because your laundress has failed to impart the due degree of rigidity to your collar linen. Now you promise yourself a full indemnity for all thecontre-tempsof the past week—you are just arranging a most pleasant excursion with the lady the next afternoon, when, alas! the vanity of human hopes! an impertinent coxcomb, whose only merit consists in a well arranged dress and capacious whiskers, demands the honor of the lady's hand for the next waltz. Odious, detested waltz! You have too much taste to dance yourself: yourinamorata, however, must yield to the unrelenting tyranny of fashion, and you are left in a posture ofamiableabstraction, musing on the provoking scene enacting before you. To sit quietly and await the termination of the dance, might not be an unattainable effort of patience; but to see her partner's place supplied again and again—you take leave of hope and the company together, and pass the next week to the manifest infringement of your own peace of mind, and your aforesaid ill-fated valet's physical comforts.
Now, Mr. Messenger, I take you to be a sensible and discreet man, anxious for the purity of public taste, and ever vigilant to rid society of all nuisances; I doubt not, therefore, that I shall find in you, an able and willing coadjutor in the remedy I propose to apply, for the extirpation of this unspeakable annoyance; and I hope the undignified, graceless, dancing fraternity, aye, andsisterhoodtoo, (for sorry am I to say, the ladies are the mostuntiringpatrons of this capering vice,) will take the hint forthwith. I propose, through the "Messenger," to give to the public the result of my best labors to eradicate this odious practice from society. I know not if my efforts will ever receive their deserved reward. The public is an ungrateful master, and ever incredulous and uncourteous when you propose to reform him. It is not, however, the part of a philanthropist and reformer, to abate his efforts on that account. Immortality will be the price of success, and posterity will pay it. Had Columbus abandoned his attempts to explore the western main, because bigoted and ignorant monarchs would not accept the world he offered them, we might now have been the wretched subjects of some European despot instead of the countrymen of Washington, under a government of equal laws, and in a land of liberty.
On a visit a few evenings ago, to a maiden aunt, I was glad to find, that among the ladies assembled on the occasion, the utmost unanimity prevailed as to the importance and utility of the proposed reform. Miss Betsy Bloomever declared it would be one of the most extensively beneficial reformations which the world has witnessed, since the proscription of hoops, stays, and stomachers. Miss Debby Creaktone pronounced it a more important revolution than that achieved by Signorina Garcia, in the musical style of the American vocalists; and Miss Judith Knowell said, that in her estimation, (and she was a Protestant Episcopalian, she added,) Luther's reformation would sink to insignificance before it.
You can imagine my gratification, Mr. Messenger, at so numerous and so respectable an accession to my opinions; a fact upon which I could not forbear to felicitate myself, to Miss Sophronisba Grundy, adding, that I was confident my exertions would now be duly appreciated by an enlightened public, when it should be apprised, that I was aided in my labors by ladies, from whoseageandexperience, so much might be expected, when——conceive my astonishment, the whole group rose upon me, with unanimous rage; and declared it was a positive insult—
"Age and experience indeed! humph! Call meoldat thirty-five!" screamed Miss Deborah.
"Andme, at forty—only five years more!" shouted Miss Betsy.
"AndI," said Miss Judith, scornfully, "that will let you know, Sir, I shall not be thirty-five till the 29th day of June next."
"Impudence!" said Miss Primrose.
"Insult!" echoed Miss Grundy.
In short, I found it impossible, Mr. Messenger, to compose the troubled elements, thus innocently put in motion, and was forced to retire. All my attempts at expostulation and entreaty, being overborne and silenced by the volume of voice and clamor sent after me—my aunt even intimating to me, at the hall door, that I must not visit her house, unless I could better estimate thefeelingsof her friends, who certainly had much cause to complain of my wanton outrage upon them.
I was electrified—was astounded—and tossed on my pillow the whole night, vainly laboring to unravel the inexplicable problem. That ladies of such seeming propriety, should evince such passion at an allusion to that to which I considered themaloneindebted, for any consequence they might have in the world, was more than my philosophy could estimate, or my ingenuity explain.
As some compensation, however, for the defection of theseyoungladies with delicatefeelings, I am rejoiced to find that the sex can appreciate my exertions in the cause of elegance and refinement, and are determined to aid me in my patriotic labors. Last evening the penny post brought me the two following letters, on the subject of the great reformation of manners in which we are engaged; and as they strengthen my opinions with great force of argument, I am unwilling to suppress them, and beg leave you will give them at once to the dear public, whose welfare I have so much at heart. With the kind and very welcome invitation contained in the first, I shall certainly comply, and hope ere long, to give you the result of the deliberations of a body, from whose wisdom, (I will not sayageorexperience,) so much may be justly expected; and in the mean while, I am very faithfully, yours and the public's dear friend,
ANTHONY ABSOLUTE.
Mr. Absolute:
I am secretary to the "Society of Young Ladies for the suppression of vulgar practices, and the promotion of elegance and gentility among young men," and am directed by a resolution of the Society, at its last meeting in Quality Hall, to convey to you the assurance of their hearty good will and ready co-operation, in your philanthropic efforts in the dancing reformation. Our society has long deplored the absence of some efficient and active measures for the suppression of a practice so derogatory to the dignified grandeur of the human form and character, and congratulate themselves and their co-laborers in the same cause, upon the highly important and gratifying results, which your beneficent zeal and energy promise. They have ever since the formation of their society, regarded the practice of dancing—of waltzing particularly, and especially in private circles—as seriously obstructive to that "marchof mind," which is elsewhere effecting such important improvements in the domestic economy and wealth of nations; and hail with delighted enthusiasm the dawn of a brighter and better period, in our beloved country. An anti-dancing clause is found in the constitution of our society. Our members have all abandoned the custom very long ago; indeed, our president, among the oldest of our number, being nearly sixty years of age, says, that at the last dancing party she attended, she saw General Washington dance a minuet with her aunt Fanny. There was, she says, so much stately grace in that dance, that she would not object to seeing minuets danced always; but nothingelse. We all agree in unanimous condemnation of the rapid, whirling, graceless waltzes, hops, gallops, and all those Frenchified follies, which are now, alas! by the depraved taste of the day, considered so fashionable.
Pray do not spare any pains to wipe off this dreadful stain upon our domestic customs and manners, and let not dancing be any longer urged against us as a national reproach. The next meeting of our society will be held on the afternoon of this day week, when I am directed to invite your attendance. Pray do not fail to come and give us your aid in working the speedy extirmination of this great vice from among us. And, in the meantime, wishing you perfect success in your virtuous labors, I remain your friend, in the sympathy which unites the advocates of a common cause.
CAROLINE CAMFIELD,Secretary.
Mr. Absolute:
Hearing of your intended efforts, by a series of essays, and by forming societies throughout the country, to draw the public attention to the demoralizing tendency and intrinsic ungentility of dancing, I cannot forbear to wish you entire success, in a reformation fraught with the best interests of society.
I am a young lady of respectable connexions, of some reading, more property, and, unless my glass plays me false, of a person quite agreeable. With youth and these advantages, one would think I could get along very well among the patrons of dancing; but you must know I never could dancefashionably, and as no body dances otherwise, the consequence is, that I go to party after party, and never dance at all. Pa sent me to the dancing school almost a whole quarter, but I had hardly in that time learned more than the positions, when our master dislocated his ankle joint in teaching one of the scholars (a fat Dutch girl from the mountains,) the French gallopade, and since then, we have never got another one in our neighborhood. How much more sociable it is to pass the evening in agreeable conversation, in which all can participate, than by dancing, to gratify one part of the company at the expense of the other.
Lord Chesterfield, (whose letters I have sometimes read,) advises his son never to play on any musical instrument. It is an accomplishment, he says, of the necessitous or vulgar. If he wants to hear music, he directs him to send for a professed performer, and pay him for his services. Thus ought it be in regard to dancing. Confine it to the circus or theatre, and society will not be annoyed by the practice. Until this is done, rely upon it, Mr. Absolute, none of your disciples will do more to drive it from the polished circles of domestic society, than your obedient servant,
SALLY SOBERLY.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
BY EDGAR A. POE.
BY EDGAR A. POE.
I am—that is to say, Iwas, a great man. But I am neither the author of Junius, nor the man in the mask—for my name is Thomas Smith, and I was born somewhere in the city of Fum-Fudge. The first action of my life was the taking hold of my nose with both hands. My mother saw this and called me a genius. My father wept for joy, and bought me a treatise on Nosology. Before I was breeched I had not only mastered the treatise, but had collected into a common-place book all that is said on the subject, by Pliny, Aristotle, Alexander Ross, Minutius Felix, Hermanus Pictorius, Del Rio, Villarêt, Bartholinus, and Sir Thomas Browne.
I now began to feel my way in the science, and soon came to understand, that, provided a man had a nose sufficiently big, he might, by merely following it, arrive at a Lionship. But my attention was not confined to theories alone. Every morning I took a dram or two, and gave my proboscis a couple of pulls. When I came of age my father sent for me to his study.
'My son'—said he—'what is the chief end of your existence?'
'Father'—I said—'it is the study of Nosology.'
'And what, Thomas'—he continued—'is Nosology?'
'Sir'—I replied—'it is the Science of Noses.'
'And can you tell me'—he asked—'what is the meaning of a nose?'
'A nose, my father'—said I—'has been variously defined, by about a thousand different authors. It is now noon, or thereabouts. We shall therefore have time enough to get through with them all by midnight. To commence:—The nose, according to Bartholinus, is that protuberance, that bump, that excrescence, that'——
'That will do Thomas'—said my father. 'I am positively thunderstruck at the extent of your information—I am, upon my soul. Come here! (and he took me by the arm.) Your education may be considered as finished, and it is high time you should scuffle for yourself—so—so—so (here he kicked me down stairs and out of the door,) so get out of my house, and God bless you!'
As I felt within me the divineafflatus, I considered this accident rather fortunate than otherwise, and determined to follow my nose. So I gave it a pull or two, and wrote a pamphlet on Nosology. All Fum-Fudge was in an uproar.
'Wonderful genius!'—said the Quarterly.
'Superb physiologist!'—said the New Monthly.
'Fine writer!'—said the Edinburg.
'Great man!'—said Blackwood.
'Whocan he be?'—said Mrs. Bas-Bleu.
'Whatcan he be?'—said big Miss Bas-Bleu.
'Wherecan he be?'—said little Miss Bas-Bleu.
But I paid them no manner of attention, and walked into the shop of an artist.
The Duchess of Bless-my-soul was sitting for her portrait. The Marchioness of So-and-so was holding the Duchess's poodle. The Earl of This-and-that was flirting with her salts, and His Royal Highness of Touch-me-not was standing behind her chair. I merely walked towards the artist, and held up my proboscis.
'O beautiful!'—sighed the Duchess of Bless-my-soul.
'O pretty!'—lisped the Marchioness of So-and-so.
'Horrible!'—groaned the Earl of This-and-that.
'Abominable!'—growled his Highness of Touch-me-not.
'What will you take for it?'—said the artist.
'A thousand pounds'—said I, sitting down.
'A thousand pounds?'—he inquired, turning the nose to the light.
'Precisely'—said I.
'Beautiful!'—said he, looking at the nose.
'A thousand pounds'—said I, twisting it to one side.
'Admirable!'—said he.
'A thousand pounds'—said I.
'You shall have them'-said he—'what a piece of Virtû!' So he paid me the money, and made a sketch of my nose. I took rooms in Jermyn street, sent his Majesty the ninety-ninth edition of the Nosology with a portrait of the author, and his Royal Highness of Touch-me-not invited me to dinner.
We were all Lions andRecherchés.
There was a Grand Turk from Stamboul. He said that the angels were horses, cocks, and bulls—that somebody in the sixth heaven had seventy thousand heads and seventy thousand tongues—and that the earth was held up by a sky-blue cow with four hundred horns.
There was Sir Positive Paradox. He said that all fools were philosophers, and all philosophers were fools.
There was a writer on Ethics. He talked of Fire, Unity, and Atoms—Bi-part, and Pre-existent soul—Affinity and Discord—Primitive Intelligence and Homoomeria.
There was Theologos Theology. He talked of Eusebius and Arianus—Heresy and the Council of Nice—Consubstantialism, Homousios, and Homouioisios.
There was Fricassée from the Rocher de Cancale. He mentioned Latour, Markbrunnen and Mareschino—Muriton of red tongue, and Cauliflowers with Velouté sauce—vealà laSt. Menehoult, Marinadeà laSt. Florentin, and orange jelliesen mosaiques.
There was Signor Tintontintino from Florence. He spoke of Cimabue, Arpino, Carpaccio, and Argostino—the gloom of Caravaggio—the amenity of Albano—the golden glories of Titian—the frows of Rubens, and the waggeries of Jan Steen.
There was the great Geologist Feltzpar. He talked of Hornblende, Mica-slate, Quartz, Schist, Schorl, and Pudding-stone.
There was the President of the Fum-Fudge University. He said that the moon was called Bendis in Thrace, Bubastis in Egypt, Dian in Rome, and Artemis in Greece.
There was Delphinus Polyglot. He told us what had become of the eighty-three lost tragedies of Æschylus—of the fifty-four orations of Isæus—of the three hundred and ninety-one speeches of Lysias—of the hundred and eighty treatises of Theophrastus—of the eighth book of the Conic Sections of Apollonius—of Pindar's Hymns and Dithyrambics, and the five and forty Tragedies of Homer Junior.
There was a modern Platonist. He quoted Porphyry, Iamblichus, Plotinus, Proclus, Hierocles, Maximus, Tyrius, and Syrianus.
There was a human-perfectibility man. He quoted Turgot, Price, Priestly, Condorcet, De Staël, and the "Ambitious Student in rather ill health."
There was myself. I talked of Pictorius, Del Rio, Alexander Ross, Minutius Felix, Bartholinus, Sir Thos. Browne, and the Science of Noses.
'Marvellous clever man!'—said his Highness.
'Superb!'—said the guests: and the next morning her Grace of Bless-my-soul paid me a visit.
'Will you go to Almacks, pretty creature?' she said.
'Certainly'—said I. 'Nose and all?'—she asked.
'Positively'—I replied.
'Here then is a card'—she said—'shall I say you will be there?'
'Dear Duchess! with all my heart.'
'Pshaw! no—but with all your nose?'
'Every bit of it, my life,'—said I. So I gave it a pull or two, and found myself at Almacks. The rooms were crowded to suffocation.
'He is coming!'—said somebody on the stair case.
'He is coming!'—said somebody farther up.
'He is coming!'—said somebody farther still.
'He is come!'—said the Duchess—'he is come, the little love!' And she caught me by both hands, and looked me in the nose.
'Ah joli!'—said Mademoiselle Pas Seul.
'Dios guarda!'—said Don Stiletto.
'Diavolo!'—said Count Capricornuto.
'Tousand Teufel!'—said Baron Bludenuff.
'Tweedle-dee—tweedle-dee—tweedle-dum!' said the orchestra.
'Ah joli!—Dios guarda!—Diavolo!—and Tousand Teufel!' repeated Mademoiselle Pas Seul, Don Stiletto, Count Capricornuto, and Baron Bludenuff. It was too bad—it was not to be borne. I grew angry.
'Sir!'—said I to the Baron—'you are a baboon.'
'Sir!'—replied he, after a pause,—'Donner and Blitzen!'
This was sufficient. The next morning I shot off his nose at six o'clock, and then called upon my friends.
'Bête!'—said the first.
'Fool!'—said the second.
'Ninny!'—said the third.
'Dolt!'—said the fourth.
'Noodle!'—said the fifth.
'Ass!'—said the sixth.
'Be off!'—said the seventh.
At all this I felt mortified, and called upon my father.
'Father'—I said—'what is the chief end of my existence!'
'My son'—he replied—'it is still the study of Nosology. But in hitting the Baron's nose you have overshot your mark. You have a fine nose it is true, but then Bludenuff has none. You are d——d, and he has become the Lion of the day. In Fum-Fudge great is a Lion with a proboscis, but greater by far is a Lion with no proboscis at all.'
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
My name is Lionel Granby. I was the second and youngest son of the Honorable Edmund Granby, a gentleman distinguished for his polished education and stately aristocracy. The earliest associations of my eventful life, steal from memory more of joyousness than of pain; and gathering in a gilded horizon of light around the darkness of my destiny, they whisper a consolation which despair cannot efface, nor misfortune obliterate.
Chalgrave, (an ominous name for a patrician family,) was the proud mansion of my ancestors. It was a huge and gnarled pile of Dutch brick, surrounded by a cumbrous wall of the same material. Situated on the western side of Chesapeake Bay, it frowned with stubborn misanthropy, on the mingled beauty which softened the silent landscape. It stood alone in the silence of its grandeur,—cold, fearful and noiseless. A broad and level plain swept round its base, dotted into life with the cottages of my father's numerous slaves. From them sprung the only voices which soothed the chilled solitude of the scene. Here, at all times might be heard the merry laugh, the jocund song, or the unalloyed mirth of alternate ease and idleness. One of those noble and beautiful rivers, which dally, as if it scorned to arise from an humble rivulet, with the bosom of the Chesapeake, gushed up its full waters fresh as in the morning of its creation. Much rude and incongruous taste disfigured the interior of Chalgrave. A dark and gloomy heaviness sate on the antique wainscotting, the massy sofas, and the blackened windows. From the dinner hall, the portraits of my ancestors looked down, as if in contempt on the degeneracy of modern times. Here was a cavalier, with flowing locks and iron-bound brow, who had lost his life in the memorable field of Naseby. Opposite to him, was the stiff and rigid portrait of a grave and thoughtful face. He was one of those inflexible and independent lawyers, whose moral courage had labored in the war of our revolution, and whose inflexible spirit had inspired successful resistance. Mothers with children in their arms; infants with toys, and belles with flowers and books, filled the wall alike with vermillion and smiles.
The numbersevenwas curiously interwoven, in the circumstances of my birth. I was born on the seventh day of the seventh month, at seven o'clock, being the seventh of May. In our old family Bible, I find the record of my birth in my father's hand writing, followed with this fearful sentence. "Curse him not, oh God! with the —— of our family." Amid the desolations of despair—the anguish of broken hearted affliction, and the contempt of the world, I turn to the gentle and joyous hours of my childhood, even as the "hart which panteth after the water brooks." My memory is my heart, and my affections hourly trace themselves on its index. My mother's dark and deep blue eye, even now beams over her wretched child, and I live alone in the regenerative charity of this blessed passion.
I have a faint and indistinct recollection of my father's death and burial. The solemn ceremony of his funeral, and the dull and harsh sound of the earth as it touched his coffin, deeply affected my youthful spirits. I cried bitterly in the arms of my old nurse, and wondered at my mother's chilled and tearless eye. My father was dead! He had been stern and imperious to me; and as my gratitude was no reasoning power, I soon laughed brightly again in the serious and melancholy face of my mother. My old nurse Ellen, had lived in the Granby family for three successive generations, and was addressed by the endearing epithet of "Mammy." Her grandson, a well formed and athletic youth, named Scipio, four years older than myself, had been given to me by my father, and I soon learned the deep and abiding fidelity of his affection. He was my friend, companion and slave; and I thank God! that the pride of dominion never insulted or degraded him. In his obedience, he was dignified; and in his devotion, ardent, generous and sincere. He taught me to ride the unbroken colt—to steer the frail periogue, and to fish with success for the active boneta. According to the custom in Virginia, he did no service but wait on his young master. Thus separated from the great mass of my father's slaves, he grew into manhood with a gentleness of character and a dignity of address which would have honored the proudest gentleman in the state.
My old uncle Charles, who was one of the happiest and most dignified specimens of the "decayed gentleman," had found a resting place for his adversity in the Chalgrave family. He had been a Colonel in the militia; and having on one occasion, performed with his whole regiment before an admiringcourt yard, the difficult and vexatious manoeuvre of "the hollow square," he instantly resigned his commission; and under the shade of his laurels, he lamented the decay of military spirit, and the ignorance of the officers. The "hollow square," was the first mathematical figure I learned. Every thing in nature was pressed by my uncle into this fortified figure (as he called it,) of fortification. The trees, the flowers, the grass plats, backgammon men,—and the flies trained with honey, presented the solemn outline of my uncle's pride and learning. His peculiarities were few, and deeply tinctured with enthusiasm. As an antiquary alone, in the cause of Virginian history, he was bigoted, obstinate and credulous; and, considered as the first of books, "the Metamorphoses of Ovid, done into English by Mr. George Sandys, the company's treasurer." He contended that Clayton, the botanist, was greater in learning, than Linnæus; and, told with much indignation, the minutiæ of Clayton's quarrel with Gronovius, the Amsterdam printer. My uncle was experienced in the diseases of dogs and horses, and perfectly familiar with the technical jargon of the racing calendar. He had travelled in Europe, but would never mention the incidents of his tour, except to inform his auditory that the best saddles were made in London, and the finest pointers were bred at Padua. Yet my uncle had learning, taste and erudition, which he guarded, from every profane eye, with a repulsive and dogged obstinacy; and the few flashes which occasionally broke from him, glittered like the trembling rays which play around the edge of some sombre cloud. As an admirer of the fair, he was courteous, dreamy and fantastic, and would ever and anon, refer, for an evidence of his family gallantry, to the speech of one Sir Danvers Granby, who was a commissioner under Henry VIII, for dissolving the nunneries. When the nuns were shivering in the rude gaze of the populace, Sir Danvers, looked at them with tears in his eyes, exclaiming, "God bless you! I could marry you all, if I did not adore you!" This story my uncle told with a smile and a bow.
My gallant, gifted, and noble brother Frederick! how bright was the star which shone over thy boyhood! Alas! that its flickering light should only beam o'er thy pallid couch!—He was several years my senior, and had been sent to Europe for the purpose of acquiring a military education, but had returned at the age of nineteen with a broken and impaired constitution. He was studious, solitary and reserved; while the hectic flush of consumption, which irradiated his cheek, nerved alike the fortitude of his character, and awakened the sympathy of every eye. His heart was gentle, though his studies were severe—and he saved from the wreck which ambition ever makes of feeling, no jewel so rich as the untainted tenderness of his character. He had become a member of the bar; and I have often gazed on his high and marbled brow, as a living monument, on which destiny had inscribed its fiat of despair. Political life! that maddening turmoil of empty nothingness! was the goal on which he had fixed his dream of hope; and, though ill health prostrated him to the earth, his sunny smile breathed a freshness, and a gloom, as brilliant, and as melancholy as the tremulous twilight of an autumn sky. He cared naught for wealth, love or pleasure. Ambition was the demon which moved around him, in a track of its own desolation; and though beauty had lured him almost to the confines of matrimony, he could trample down the sympathies of his nature beneath its despotic rule.
My sister Lucy, was two years younger than myself; she was fair, delicate, and singularly beautiful. Her raven and luxuriant hair, fell in prodigal ringlets over a brow of Parian whiteness, giving that struggling halo of beauty which darkness throws around the solitude of the snow drift. She was deeply versed in the fashionable accomplishments of female education, and had added to them the acquirements of solid learning. The old library was the resort of her solitary hours; and as her light and sylph-like form, would flit through its darkened walls, fancy might easily personify her into Fame, hovering over the tomb of Genius.
The coachman, ostler, and dining room servants, are all important characters in thedramatis personæof a Virginian household. With them I was a pet. The first, taught me to drive—the second, initiated me into the mysteries of Tree Hill and Broad Rock; while the third, corrected with severity, any breach of etiquette or violation of morals, inconsistent with his own or the Granby's dignity.
Such was the Granby family. Where are they now? The spider has woven her web, and the owl has built her nest in the crumbling walls of Chalgrave. The silent grave reads but one lesson—for the breeze which sighs over its dewy grass, tells me thatIalone, am the last of that proud and gifted name.
THETA.
IN THE COUNTY OF BOTETOURT, VIRGINIA.
IN THE COUNTY OF BOTETOURT, VIRGINIA.
Among the numerous watering places in Virginia, our attention has been drawn to that which is named at the head of this notice, by several individuals who tested its virtues during the last season, and who speak highly of the situation and management of the Springs, and the efficacy of its waters. The mineral qualities of these Springs have been long known, and they have been resorted to for some years by persons living in their vicinity. But the character and circumstances of the original proprietor, a descendant of the early Dutch settlers of the country, prevented their improvement until within the last year or two. He had a full sense of the mineral treasure which enhanced the value of his property, and refused all offers from those who wished to purchase the site of the Springs; while he had not the means of bringing them into profitable use, by erecting buildings for the accommodation of visiters. Many individuals were, nevertheless, in the habit of drinking the waters of the Springs during the warm season, and of sojourning for a few days in the rude and imperfect dwellings which he had erected: and with the moderate income thus obtained from this mine of natural wealth, its sturdy proprietor seemed well satisfied. At his death, his successors disposed of the Springs and the adjacent lands to the present proprietors; and buildings were erected last year, on a limited scale, with every regard to the comfort of the traveller and the invalid. The consequences of a more liberal arrangement were immediately felt. The number of visiters last season exceeded the means of accommodation; and the managers have in the interim, made the most active exertions to meet the growing popularity of their establishment, having completed additional apartments, which will enable them to provide for the comfort of one hundred persons. The scenery in the vicinity of the Springs has been described to us in glowing colors, as combining every variety of the magnificent and the beautiful—and we have also been assured that the fare and attendance are worthy of all praise; so that we feel safe in recommending the enlarged establishment of the proprietors (Messrs. Dibrell and Watkins,) to the attention of travellers for health or pleasure.
Dagger's Springs are situated within easy distances from some of the most interesting towns in the Valley of Virginia—they are forty-five miles from the White Sulphur; twenty-two from Lexington; eighteen from Fincastle, and sixteen from Pattonsburg. The following letter from a distinguished physician, affords all necessary information as to the medicinal properties of the waters, and the management of the establishment:
Danville, April 28, 1835.
I visited Dagger's Spring on the 24th of last July, and on the next day proceeded to subject the water to a number of chemical tests. The experiments performed, though not as full and as satisfactory as I could have wished, were sufficient to demonstrate that the water possesses highly valuable properties, and sufficient also to make us somewhat acquainted with thenatureof those properties. The most active mineral ingredients in the water are carbonated alkalies. In this it differs materially from the White and Salt Sulphur, and is more nearly assimilated in its qualities to the Red and Gray Sulphur. It is however more decidedly alkaline than either of those Springs. This peculiarity will ever recommend it to persons subject to acidities of the stomach, and to the other concomitants of dyspepsia; while the large quantity of hydrogen that it contains, will render it useful in all of those complaints for which sulphur water is usually prescribed.
The following experiment was performed with the view of ascertaining the quantity of gas contained in the water. Three measures of the water were placed in a retort, and the bulb of the retort plunged in water, heated to the temperature of 108 Fahrenheit. The gas, as it was extricated, was received over mercury, in a graduated measure. The result was, that the three measures of water yielded one measure of gas. This gas was subsequently tested, and found to consist of sulphuretted hydrogen, azote, and atmospheric air—principally of the former.
The presence of iron is not detected by the usual tests; but the water, when treated with prussiate of potash, and subsequently with sulphuric acid, yields a blue precipitate, which is evidently prussiate of iron—the sulphuric acid having a stronger affinity for potash than the prussic acid, disengages the latter. The acid thus disengaged, unites with the iron in the water, and forms the prussiate of iron or prussian blue.
Although the water contains but about 36 grs. of mineral substances to the gallon,1it acts, under certain circumstances, with great promptness. It effects upon the system are invigorating: it promotes digestion and improves the secretions generally; it strengthens without producing an undue excitement, and may therefore be used beneficially in some cases, in which the water of the White Sulphur, from its stimulating properties, would prove destructive.
1The smaller of two springs at the Red Sulphur contains about 60 grs. per gal. The larger, which is most used, does not contain but about 24 grs. per gal.
I will only say in conclusion, that I was pleased with the manner in which the establishment appeared to be conducted, with the spirit of enterprise manifested, and the taste displayed in the plan of improvement, which was kindly exhibited to me. I met with no situation among the mountains susceptible of as great improvement as that selected for the buildings. It may be made a second Eden.
I am engaged in preparing a work for the press, in which this Spring will be more particularly noticed, and attention directed to objects of interest in the surrounding country. It would have been completed before this, but for the peculiarities of my situation, which allow me but little leisure for literary pursuits.
I was told of another spring belonging to the establishment, from which I was informed it was designed to supply the bathing house. From the account given of it, I have no doubt but that it is highly alkaline. I regret very much that it was not in my power to examine and test its properties.