Part 35

On a range of hills about two miles from the village, arrangements had been made for the cavalcade to halt for the formal reception to be given by the governor, who had come from Cahaba to meet the distinguished guest at that point. On each side of the road was a large, snowy-white tent, between which, over the road, was an arch of beautiful artistic construction, beneath which stood Governor Pickens and his suite awaiting the arrival of the eminent guest. When the carriage which bore LaFayette halted under the arch, Governor Pickens advanced to greet him, and after a mutual introduction, the governor proceeded to extend the courtesies of the new state, in apt and well-chosen terms, for which he was remarkable, and was followed by the reply of General LaFayette, in phraseology just as happy. This was followed by a sort of improvised reception on the spot, when the distinguished citizens of the state were presented to LaFayette one by one. In the meantime, the ladies who had come to assist in doing honor to the occasion, remained in the tents, and the governor taking the arm of the great guest, led him into the tents and introduced him to the ladies. This occurred at noon on Sunday, April 3, 1825, and immediately after these initial ceremonies were over, the procession again took up the line of march for the village of Montgomery, LaFayette now being taken in the carriage of Governor Pickens. A band of music attended on the procession, the notes of which were mingled with the acclamation of the multitude, the volume of sound increasing as Montgomery was approached, as fresh accessions were made to the procession. Every object that could create noise and din was brought into use, among which were the detonations of powder, which in the absence of guns was confined in such a way as to cause a loud explosion, and bells of every size were rung, the people seeming determined to make up in noise the deficiency of population, for at that time Montgomery was nothing more than a small town.

Once in the town, the most sumptuous quarters possible were placed at the disposal of LaFayette and his party, and though he was fatigued, the people pressed in to greet him. LaFayette and the governor dined privately together, and in the evening attended together divine service.

Monday brought to LaFayette a busy day. Citizens had come from every quarter of the state to shake his hand, among whom were some old veterans who had served under him in the campaigns of the Revolution. His eye kindled at the sight of a Revolutionary soldier, and his greeting was always one of the most ardent affection. He must need have a brief off-hand chat with every old soldier that came in to see him. A busy day was followed by a ball given in honor of the eminent soldier and patriot. This lasted till 11 o'clock at night, when a procession was formed to escort him to the river landing, where three small steamers were in waiting to take the party down the river to Cahaba--the Henderson, Balize and the Fanny.

The next article will conclude the account of the notable visit of LaFayette to Alabama.

LAFAYETTE'S DEPARTURE

As one now goes up Commerce street, Montgomery, from the railway station, he will find about midway between the station and the Exchange Hotel, on the right side of the street, a bronze tablet in the wall on which is inscribed this valuable bit of historic information: "On this site stood, until December, 1899, the house in which Marquis de LaFayette was given a public reception and ball, April 4, 1825, while on his last tour through the United States. This tablet is placed by the Society of the Sons of the Revolution in the state of Alabama in lasting memory of this illustrious patriot and soldier of the Revolution, the friend of Washington and the youthful champion of liberty. April 4, 1825-April 4, 1905." On the same tablet appears the figure of LaFayette with the accompanying dates of 1776 and 1883, and beneath appear the words, "The Sons of the Revolution." While our people have been generally negligent of the preservation of notable spots, it is an occasion of gratitude to the Sons of the Revolution that they have so thoughtfully saved this site from utter obliteration.

Resuming the narrative where it was left off in the first article, with respect to LaFayette and the large escort that accompanied him on the boats down the river, the flotilla reached the village of Selma the next morning, where a stop was made to enable an eager multitude who had gathered from different and distant directions, to catch a glimpse of the illustrious guest of the nation, and to grasp his hand. The stay was necessarily brief, for the boats must steam rapidly on to Cahaba, where the people of the new capital were eagerly waiting to extend to LaFayette a really great welcome.

The sight of the boats coming down the river was sufficient to raise from the throats of the assembled multitude on the bank of the river, a loud acclamation, attended by the waving of handkerchiefs, hats, umbrellas, and banners, accompanied by the loud booming of guns and the ringing of bells. It was difficult for LaFayette to descend the gangway, so eager were the people to reach him and take his hand. Once on shore, and Mr. Dellet, who was charged with the task of extending the speech of welcome, delivered his speech, which was fitly responded to, when a long procession was formed, which marched to the courthouse, which was tastefully decorated throughout, and a formal reception was held. This being over, a sumptuous dinner was in readiness, and, after dining, LaFayette was allowed a few hours of respite. After refreshing himself by sleep, he appeared again, and the ingenuity of the people seemed to be exhausted in the methods devised to do him honor.

His stay at Cahaba was the shorter because he was already several days overdue at other points. Plans had been made for a stop of a day at Claiborne, Monroe County, then one of the largest and thriftiest towns in the state, but which is now practically extinct, but the miscalculation in fixing advanced dates forbade a stay of only a few hours in this bustling little river center. An elaborate ball had been prepared for at Claiborne, in honor of the French hero, but he was unable to remain, and after some hours of delay the boats proceeded southward, bearing the LaFayette party, the governor and his staff, and a multitude of attendants on the several steamers.

The next important point to be reached was Mobile. No place in all his travels exceeded in demonstration that accorded by this Alabama metropolis. The wharves were thronged by the eager crowds, watching for the first appearance of the boats descending the river, and their appearance was the signal for the shouts of the multitude, the ringing of church bells, and the booming of big guns. The usual ceremonies were gone through of speeches of reception and the reply, banquets and receptions, into all of which LaFayette entered with the snap and spirit of a boy. He had been much refreshed and invigorated by his trip down the river, and this unusual amount of rest gave him fresh elasticity. He seemed to throw off all reserve, and yielded himself with abandon to the festivities and gaieties of the occasion. He was no more happy than was Governor Pickens, who was intent on the highest possible expression of hospitality to the national guest, and the more so, because he was so insistent on his coming to the young state. To the credit of Governor Pickens, be it said that there was not a jar or jostle in the elaborate plan and arrangement which he had conceived and executed to the letter, from the time LaFayette set foot on the soil of Alabama till he left it forever.

The stay in Mobile was cut somewhat short for the reasons already given, as New Orleans was on the tiptoe of expectation of LaFayette's arrival. Governor Pickens remained with LaFayette till he left the utmost limit of the state. The finest boat that had yet been built for southern waters, the Natchez, was to convey LaFayette to New Orleans. The Natchez was accompanied by other steamers, which bore the large escort, but Governor Pickens and LaFayette sailed out of the port of Mobile to Mobile Point, where Governor Pickens took affectionate leave of his eminent guest. The separation of these two eminent men was most affecting, as they had become mutually much won to each other. It was agreed that they should continue to correspond so long as both continued alive. LaFayette asked that a copy of the paper containing an account of his visit to Alabama be sent him, which explains the following letter:

"My Dear Sir: According to my promise, I directed a paper to meet you at Pittsburg and again enclose you one herein. This contains but a partial account of our doings when you were with us. You will receive a packet which I have caused to be directed to you at Boston, giving an account at each place where you stopped in your journey through this state, believing that it may be satisfactory to you, or to some of your friends, in giving a reference to the incidents occurring here on the gratifying occasion to our citizens of the young state of Alabama.

"I hope you will have reached Boston by the time you wished, in good health and spirits, after a journey unexampled in our own or any other time; a march so extended, so rapid, and at the same time so triumphant has never been the boast of any personage before, and it is truly a source of common congratulation among the friends of republican institutions and of free social order throughout the world.

"I am too sensible of the fatigues of your late journey, of those gratifying attentions by which you will be surrounded when this shall have reached you, to add anything to them by a longer letter without material to make it interesting to you.

"Hereafter when you shall be enjoying the tranquillity of your own domestic circle, I hope to have the pleasure of corresponding with you in conformity with your kind invitation when I parted with you.

"I am, with sentiments of profound respect and esteem, your most obt.,

"ISRAEL PICKENS.

"General LaFayette."

This is a literal transcription of the first letter addressed by Governor Pickens to General LaFayette.

OLD SCHOOL DAYS

No change that has come to later times has been more radical than that in our schools. The discipline, management, method of instruction and general spirit of the school have all undergone a thorough transformation. In the early days, the old blue-back speller was a sine qua non in the elementary schools. Its columns and battalions of words, ranging from the least spellable words to those that are octosyllabic and even beyond, all of which had to be learned by rote, made many an excellent speller of the English. The modern method of acquiring ability to spell may be superior, but one who ever mastered the old blue-back was never known to be an indifferent speller. Consigned to the limbo of the junk heap, the blue-back may be, but to master it was to become the possessor of most of the words in common use, and more besides.

In former days the location of a country school was selected with reference to the largest possible patronage, while many boys and girls were forced to trudge the distance of several miles each morning to attend, and return the same distance home every afternoon. The buckets with curved wire handles would contain the dinners of the children of a given family. School periods extended from eight in the morning till four in the afternoon, with three brief intervals of recess during the day. For a well-regulated school, the furniture comprised plain, unpainted seats, none too comfortable, and unpainted desks. Where not so well regulated the seats were of split logs, backless, with peg supporters, and no desks, save that of the teacher, which was used at different times by a given class of students in taking writing lessons from the teacher.

This teacher sat on a platform, which was slightly raised, in order to give him complete oversight of each pupil. Within his desk were securely kept the sinews of discipline in the form of a number of well-seasoned hickories, flexible, tough, and just long enough for faithful execution. These were a source of terror to all alike, for under the nature of the discipline there were no immunes in view of certain infractions.

The rules of discipline were generally harsh, hard and drastic, the very essence of the unreasonable. A pupil failing to spell a given number of words, or to give a given number of correct answers, was straightway drubbed. This was done in a most mechanical way, as the machinery of discipline must, of course, run regularly. Nothing was said, but the teacher would administer the flogging, and go straight on with his other work. The fear of punishment, so far from acting as a stimulus, was a barbarous hindrance. Study was not pursued so much as a pleasure, as it was from fear of punishment.

A "big boy," one past sixteen generally, was given the alternative of a flogging in the presence of the school, or of downright dismissal. No respect was had for the difference between a laborious, earnest student, who might be slow of acquisition, and one who was bright and quick, though the former might be the solider of the two, and often was. School was taught according to certain arbitrary rules and not according to the principle of common sense. Most schools were therefore regarded by pupils as terrors, and not as places of mental pleasure. A "tight" teacher, as the rigid disciplinarian was called, was much in demand. Many a pedagogue would lose an opportunity to procure a school because he was "loose," or, as we would say nowadays, because he was reasonable, and not a ringmaster with his whip. No higher commendation was there than that one would flog even the largest boys. In consequence of this condition in the early school, the teacher was held in almost universal awe, with no touch of congeniality with any pupil.

In all recitations save those of reading and spelling, pupils would sit. The spelling classes were somewhat graded, and, in reciting, would stand in a line facing the teacher, who would "give out" the words to be spelled. Each syllable had not only to be spelled and articulated, but in spelling, each preceding syllable was pronounced, even to the close of the word. If, for instance, the word notoriety was given, the pupil would spell n-o, no, t-o, noto, r-i, notori, e, notorie, t-y, te, notoriety. When it would come to spelling long words, they would be rattled off with a volubility that was often amazing. It was interesting to hear words like incombustibility and honorificabilitudinity spelled after this fashion. As with a vocal fusillade, the pupil would clatter off long words, building each up as he would proceed, the teacher would stand with his head slightly careened to hear it properly done. Whatever other effect such exercise had, it gave clearness of articulation. If a word was misspelled, it was given to the next student with a "Next!" from the teacher, and if successfully spelled by the one next below him, he would "turn down" the one who failed, or, in other words, take his place in the line, sending the one who failed nearer toward the foot of the class. Like trembling culprits the pupils would thus stand throughout the recitation, and everyone who had missed spelling a given number of words, walked mechanically up to the teacher and took his drubbing. Every class of spellers was only a body of culprits on trial.

One of the choice pranks of those early days was that of "turning the teacher out." When a holiday was desired, and had been previously declined, a revolt was almost sure to follow. A secret conclave of "the big boys" was held, a mutiny was hatched, a fearless ringleader was chosen, the plans were laid, and the time of the real issue awaited. On the morning of the desired holiday, the young conspirators would reach the school an hour or two in advance, barricade every door and window so that none could enter, and quietly await the coming of the teacher. He would usually demand that the house be opened, when the leader would inform him that it would be done solely on condition that he would give them a holiday.

The teacher's ingenuity, tact, or physical strength was often sorely taxed by a juncture like this. It was not an easy thing to handle a half dozen or more determined boys just emerging into manhood, and those whose quiet grudge prompted a desire for a tilt, at any rate, and the teacher must either yield and thus lose his grip thereafter, or take the chance of a rough and tumble with the odds against him. The usual method of settlement was to sound a truce, and compromise on some satisfactory basis. One advantage always lay on the side of the teacher--no matter how stern or severe his method of adjustment in quelling the rebellion, he would have the moral reinforcement of the parents, but it was an advantage that might prove more than a forlorn hope, if he should attack a body of muscular country boys.

Happily, those days are gone, with some slight advantages, perhaps, over some of the present methods, but with immensely more disadvantages. At least, the tyranny and brutality of the olden days have given place to common sense.

THE CROSS ROADS GROCERY

Among the defunct institutions of a past era in the state's history, is that of the country grogshop, which was known in those days as "the cross roads grocery," a name derived from the enterprising spirit of the keepers of such places to locate where the roads crossed, in order to catch more "trade." Many of these country saloons became notorious resorts. These places were the rendezvous of the rustics of the hilarious type in those far-off days. These rude trysting places were the weekly scenes of coarse sports, gross hilarity, and of rough-and-tumble fights. Hither the rowdies gathered from a wide region, drank freely, yelled vociferously, and fought not a little. The monthly muster of the militia was usually in connection with one of these rural institutions, and hither would come "the boys" for an all-day frolic. While squirrel guns and old flint and steel rifles were used in the drill, these would never be brought into requisition when the combats would usually ensue. Shooting and stabbing were far less frequent then than now, the test of manhood being in agility, strength, and the projectile force of the fist. There were bullies, not a few, and when one got sufficiently under way to raise a yell like a Comanche Indian, it was regarded as a defiant banter. This species of "sport" would usually come as the last act of the tragedy of the day.

Among the diversions of the day was that of test of marksmanship. The stakes were usually steaks, or, to use the terminology of the time, "a beef quarter." To be able "to hit the bull's-eye," as the center of the target was called, was an ambition worthy of any rustic. A feat so remarkable made one the lion of the day, and his renown was widely discussed during the ensuing week. No greater honor could come to one than to be able to win a quarter, and "the grocery" was alluded to as a place of prominent resort throughout a wide community. There were also "racing days," which was applied to foot races as well as to horse racing. There was a track for each hard by "the grocery," and in the foot races the runners would strip bare to the waist, pull off their shoes, and run the distance of several hundred yards. Brace after brace of runners would test their speed during the day, the defeated contestant having always to "treat the crowd."

This was varied, in turn, by horse racing day. Two parallel tracks were always kept in order by the grocery keeper for this equestrian sport. Scrawny ponies that had plowed during all the week were taken on the track on Saturday, betting was freely indulged in, the owners would be their own jockeys, and amusing were many of the races thus run.

Still another sport, cruel enough in itself, was that of the "gander pulling." A large gander with greased neck would be suspended to a flexible limb overhanging the road, and one by one the horsemen would ride at full tilt, grasp the neck of the goose, and attempt to wring it off, while his horse was at full speed. With many a piteous honk, the goose would turn its head here and there to avoid being seized, and it was not easy to accomplish the required feat. A given sum of money was the usual reward to the successful contestant. This cruel sport of more than seventy-five years ago was among the first to disappear from the programme of rural diversions. The reader of "Georgia Scenes" has been made familiar with this sport, which at one time was quite popular.

"Muster day," which came once each month, was usually one of bloody hilarity. The crude evolutions on the field being over, "the boys" would return to the grocery, and, after being bounteously served several times at the bar, they were ready for the fun, which usually began with a wrestling or boxing bout, in which some one who was unsuccessful would change the scene into one of an out-and-out fray. When temper became ascendant, which was not difficult under the condition of free imbibing, one violent blow would invite another, when the crowd would form a ring around the belligerents, and cries of "Stand back!" and "Fair play!" would be heard on all hands. If one interfered in behalf of a kinsman or friend, he was pounced on by another, and not infrequently as many as a dozen men would be embroiled in a fisticuff battle. Nothing was tolerated but the fist. Not even a stick could be used, though when one was down under his antagonist it was accounted lawful to use the teeth, or even to fill the eyes of an opponent with sand, in order to make him squall. When the shriek of defeat was sounded, the successful antagonist was pulled off, and some one treated him on the spot.

It was by this means that bullies were produced in those days. Sometimes a bully would come from some other region where he had swept the field, in order to test his prowess with a local bully. Bets would be made in advance, and the announcement through the region, a week or so in advance, would serve to draw an unusual crowd to the scene of pugilistic contest. A ring was drawn in the sand, and while the contest would begin in a boxing exercise, there came a time when it grew into a battle royal with the fists. The champions of different neighborhoods each felt that not only was his own reputation at stake, but that of his community. Bulls on the pastures would not fight with greater fierceness than would these rough rowdies. When one or the other would "give up," then would come a general disagreement among the boozy bettors, and the entire crowd would become involved in a general melee.

Saturday night usually brought fresh accessions from the neighboring population, and frequently the brawls would last throughout the night. Broken fingers, noses, well-chewed ears, and dislocated teeth usually made up the casualties of the day. Bunged and beaten as many were, they would resume their usual labor during the next week, while the scenes of the preceding Saturday would be the subject of general comment, and the end of the following week would find them again at the grocery.

These groceries, so called, prevailed throughout the South till the opening of the Civil War, during which it is presumed that the belligerently disposed got full gratification on fields of a different type. Among the changes wrought in our social life by the war, this was not among the least. Efforts to revive "the grocery" of the "good old times" after the return of the few from the battlefields of the war, proved abortive, and thus vanished this popular institution in the states of the South.