Part 11

_We_ certainly have reason to believe that the existence of domestic slavery among us has been of singular advantage in preserving the free spirit of our people. Slave labor pre-occupies and fills the low and degrading stations in society. Menial offices are altogether discharged by it; and all the tasks of mere brute strength are left to it. To the freeman belong those services which imply trust and confidence, or require skill; which therefore command higher wages than mere animal labor, and give a sense of respectability and a feeling of self-respect. I know we are told that if we wish to see the perfection of free government, we must look elsewhere. We look; and we do indeed see the theory of democracy carried to its full extent, but we behold no practical results which we at all envy. We do not find that any good has come from elevating the whole class of laborers, in all its servile and degraded branches, to the sovereign privilege of voting. We believed _a priori_ (and observation proves that we were right) that the first and only use the hireling would make of his political franchise, would be to sell it to the demagogue. _But though convinced of this, the experience of other states justifies a doubt, whether_, IF ALL OUR LABORERS WERE FREEMEN, _it would be possible to withhold from them the privilege of voting_. We know that it has been elsewhere wrung from the reluctant grasp of the freeholders, who deeply, _but silently_, lament the forced concession. Our statesmen have been _privately_ admonished by them to profit by the experience of their error, and hold fast by our institutions. _Publicly_ indeed, we are taunted with what are called the aristocratic features of our government; but we know, and the enemies of freedom know it too, that when power has marched unchecked and unchallenged over the prostrate democracy of free labor and universal suffrage, it has always found here the most formidable barriers to its progress.

* * * * *

I take the liberty of appending, by way of note, a quotation from the same statesman, whose words I have already used, which shows that this idea of the connexion between DOMESTIC _slavery_ and MUNICIPAL _liberty_, is not new. Our _former oppressors_ were aware of it sixty years ago, and seriously meditated the destruction of the latter by the abolition of the former. The following extract may show where our _present oppressors_ got the first hint of that scheme of interested philanthropy which proposes to strip us of our property for the good of our souls.

Mr. Burke says, (in 1775) "With regard to the high aristocratic spirit of Virginia and the southern colonies, it has been proposed, I know, _to reduce it, by declaring a general enfranchisement of slaves_. This project has had its advocates and panegyrists; yet I never could argue myself into any opinion of it. Slaves are often much attached to their masters. A general wild offer of liberty would not always be accepted. History furnishes few instances of it. It is sometimes as hard to persuade slaves to be free, as it is to compel freemen to be slaves; and, in this auspicious scheme, we, should have both these pleasing tasks on our hands at once. But when we talk of enfranchisement, do we not perceive that the American master may enfranchise too, _and arm servile hands in defence of freedom?_ A measure to which other people have had recourse more than once, and not without success, in a desperate situation of their affairs.

"Slaves as these unfortunate black people are, and dull as all men are from slavery, must they not a little suspect an offer of freedom from that very nation which has sold them to their present masters? From a nation, one of whose causes of quarrel with those masters, is their refusal to deal any more in that inhuman traffic? An offer of freedom from England would come rather oddly, shipped to them in an African vessel, which is refused an entry into the ports of Virginia or Carolina, with a cargo of three hundred Angola negroes. It would be curious to see the Guinea captain attempting at the same instant to publish his proclamation of liberty, and to advertise his sale of slaves."

This last absurdity, our northern _guardians_, _pastors_, or _masters_, (I am not particular about the designation,) have wisely avoided. As long as the slave trade was allowed, they were only anxious to secure to themselves a monopoly of the advantage of carrying it on. Having lost this, they seek an equivalent by putting a new face on the matter.

Let me not be understood as bringing this charge against all who are engaged in this crusade against our rights. Like all other crusades, it is the work of a few knaves and many dupes. The latter are, proverbially, the tools of the former. Without them, the knave cannot carry on his trade. There are things to be done which he cannot do in person, and which are best accomplished by the clumsy zeal of bungling philanthropy. The fate of the West Indies is a case in point. The case of the tame bear, set by a mischievous wag to keep the flies off of the face of the sleeping hermit, is another.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

NAPOLEON'S GRAVE.

BY R. H. WILDE, _Of Georgia_.

Faint and sad was the moon-beam's smile, Sullen the moan of the dying wave, Hoarse the wind in St. Helen's isle, As I stood by the side of NAPOLEON'S GRAVE.

And is it _here_ that the Hero lies, Whose name has shaken the earth with dread? And is _this_ all that the earth supplies? A stone his pillow--the turf his bed!

Is such the moral of human life? Are these the limits of glory's reign? Have oceans of blood and an age of strife, A thousand battles, been all in vain?

Is nothing left of his victories now But legions broken--a sword in rust-- A crown that cumbers a dotard's brow-- A name and a requiem?--dust to dust!

Of all the Chieftains whose thrones he reared, Were there none whom kindness or faith could bind? Of all the Monarchs whose crowns he spared, Had none one spark of his Roman mind?

Did PRUSSIA cast no repentant glance? Did AUSTRIA shed no remorseful tear, When ENGLAND'S FAITH, and thine HONOR, FRANCE, And thy FRIENDSHIP, RUSSIA, were blasted _here_?

No!--Holy leagues, like the heathen Heaven, Ungodlike shrunk from the giant's shock, And glorious TITAN--the unforgiven-- Was doomed to his Vulture and chains and rock.

* * * * *

And who were the gods that decreed _thy_ doom! A German _Cæsar_--a Prussian _Sage_, The _Dandy Prince_ of a counting room, And a _Russian Greek_ of the middle age!

* * * * *

Men called thee _Despot_, and called thee true; But the laurel was earned that bound thy brow; And of all who wore it, alas! how few Were as free from treason and guilt as thou!

* * * * *

Shame to thee Gaul! and thy faithless horde! Where was the oath which thy soldiers swore? Fraud still lurks in the _Gown_--but the _Sword_ Was never so false to its trust before!

Where was thy vet'rans boast that day "The old guard dies," but it "never yields!" Oh! for one heart like the brave Desaix, One Phalanx like those of thine early fields!

But no! no! no! it was FREEDOM'S charm Gave _them_ the courage of more than men; _You_ broke the magic that nerved each arm, Though you were invincible only then!

* * * * *

1823.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

A SONG OF THE SEASONS.

BY ZARRY ZYLE.

Methought I heard a whispering on the strings Of hidden harps, in airy form that play, And lend their voice to fair imaginings, And wake young thoughts which in their cradles lay. I wished to set the prisoned minstrels free, Like liberated Ariels to sing, And lend a voice to all that eye could see, From the first dawn of the green light of spring, To the last lowering sweep of winter's stormy wing. _William Naylor's MSS._

I.

A Maiden sang at morn beside a leaping rivulet-- Blithe merriment was on her lip and in her eye of jet; Young Spring had shaken from his locks the amethystine beam-- O, it was sweet to hear the hymn of forest girl and stream!

A pale youth paddled wantonly far o'er a sunny lake, And smiled to see the infant leaf in newborn gladness quake; He had brooded the winter through, until his cheek grew pale With dreaming mighty deeds, and now it freshened in the gale.

A white roe wandered where sweet herbs and tender grass were peeping-- His snowy head was poised in pride, his chainless heart was leaping; The bugle-bee had called the herd from icy solitude, And he had come at bugle call--fleet centaur of the wood.

A robin bowed her golden breast and spread her gauze-wing forth, And aye poured she in carol fond her long imprisoned mirth; No mournful tones, no lute-like wail, were with her music blent; 'Twas--like the fife's shrill voice--a gush of unmixed merriment.

II.

The maiden wild and rivulet were louder in their glee, The hidden weed waxed lush beneath its woven canopy, Old summer's conch o'er air-waves lured his fragrance-breathing throng, All joy had deepened on the earth, and warmth and light and song. The youth had seen the singing girl and bowed his soul to love; Ambition--aspirations--all the subtle springs that move Man's sleepless youth, were cast aside; old summer's beamy heat Had fired their souls, and low he knelt in fondness at her feet.

The roe leapt on: the robin wove her nest of downy hair, And light with bliss high hovered as a blossom floats on air-- Girl, brook, and youth had ripened in the gladness born of spring, Joy still inflamed the wild-deer's heart and plumed the wild-bird's wing.

III.

The marigold and rose had left the valley and the hill, The pansy frail was sere in dust and dead the daffodil; The aster tall yet wore its leaves, the "golden rob" its flowers, But beauty and perfume had gone with summer's radiant hours.

From morn to night through forest glades with naught his path to cheer, The roebuck wandered moodily, o'er leaves all crisped and sere; The bird still sang, but bridal song had changed to widow's wail, And mourning she but grieved the more that grief might not avail.

But ah! the saddest change of all--the chilling blight had come On hearts within whose holy bowers young love had made his home; The verdure had departed thence, the vermeil tenderness And frosty winds had brought to dust the growth of early bliss.

The maiden heard the murmuring stream but murmured no reply, A melancholy coldness dwelt within her shrouded eye, She scarcely heard _his_ burning prayer whose love no change might quell, And only lived enough to breathe an icy "fare-thee-well."

IV.

The sombre autumn-sky no more sent down its mournful rain, A dim and sickly veil had long o'er hill and hollow lain, But death at last had trampled on the few remaining flowers, All save the restless mandrake died with autumn's last sad hours.

The mandrake yet remained, and when the keen frost pierced his breast, Sent forth his voice in agony upon the soughing blast: It told of happiness too ripe, of dewy rapture fled, Of ecstacy, and green of heart, with vanished verdure dead.

The quiet snow came lightly through the thick and misty air, And slantingly descended when the cold wind left his lair; The cold wind! aye, the wind had chilled since buoyed on sunny mirth Young Euroauster came to woo the virgin bloom of earth.

I saw no more the antlered stag--his rocky solitude Was fitter palace for the king than lea or roofless wood; The robin's song had died away as all things else must die-- Death's sleet had bound her ribbed wing and dimmed her gleeful eye.

I saw the maiden, but alas! the snow thro' ether gliding, Was not more chill than she, erewhile so tender, so confiding; I saw the youth--to him naught here might honey-balm impart, He wandered from the haunts of men in brokenness of heart.

Oh, is there not a sympathy of all-controling power The mother and her brood between--old earth, weak man, frail flower? From some hearts soon the fetters fall, as spring frees lake and river, But many with the withered leaf, wear ruin's chain forever.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

LETTERS FROM A SISTER.

MR. WHITE,--

The prominent characters in the following pages are fictitious; but the circumstances narrated are founded on fact, and the descriptions correct. The author was an actor in the scenes, and visited the places described. She has not however, relied solely on her own observations and the oral communications of others, but consulted the best guide books and historical traditions.

LETTER FIRST.

Voyage--Havre de Grace--Light Houses--Frescati Baths, and Sea Bathing--Tower of Francis the First.

HAVRE DE GRACE, ----.

_My Dear Jane:_--

The last wave of your handkerchief, when we parted from you at Southampton, made me feel quite sad for some time; but the bustling scene around me at length diverted my thoughts from their gloomy course, and I employed myself in observing the rapid movements of the sailors, as they obeyed the orders of their captain, who had the voice of a stentor, and took no pains to soften it. Our fellow passengers were an elderly gentleman and his two sons, whom he was going to place at a boarding school near Havre. We reached this celebrated port in the evening, and I am happy to tell you (_now that it is over_,) not without an adventure. Our parents and Edgar were not very sea sick, but alas! for Sigismund and myself; we were the _Jobs_ of the party. I mean as regards _suffering_, not _patience_; for of the last we both stood in need. I already detest the sea, and dread re-crossing it. But all this time you are unacquainted with our adventure; it was this. When within a few miles of Havre, a sudden squall arose, and for more than an hour our situation was truly terrifying. Fortunately the wind blew from the land, or we should have been wrecked on the "iron bound coast" which was very near us. The sails of our small vessel flapped with such violence, that the captain says they must have been torn to pieces if they had not been perfectly new. We have occupied ourselves since our arrival here, in walking about the town and riding in its neighborhood. Yesterday we visited the two light houses on Cape la Héve, and ascended one of them to view from its roof the surrounding country, which is beautiful, and bounded on three sides by the ocean. We purchased of an old woman residing in the light house, some specimens of shell work; and I chose for you a little dog, ingeniously made of small white shells, whose tiny black eyes shine as brightly as your own. This morning we surveyed the Frescati Baths, and the reservoir for oysters in front of them. The baths are kept in elegant order, and the spacious mansion containing them presents a handsome exterior. I did not relish the oysters; they taste of copperas, as do those we get at home--and this is natural enough, as they come out of the same waters. On the shore, contiguous to the bathing establishment, we witnessed the amusing spectacle of ladies and gentlemen in Turkish costume, struggling in the briny element, whose billows almost threw them down, although supported by the arms of sturdy sailors, and clinging to ropes suspended from stakes on the beach. Last night we went to the theatre, and were much entertained by the performance of Lepeintre, an excellent comic actor from Paris. Havre is enclosed by lofty walls, outside of which are deep moats, and the borders of these are covered with a bright verdure. In the town there is a pleasant walk shaded by lime trees, and the square in front of the theatre is laid off in gravel walks, with seats on each side. Here the gentry of the city, and hosts of children, with their nurses to guard them, assemble every afternoon. It is also usual for a military band to play there at sunset. The most interesting object in Havre is an old structure called the "Tower of Francis the First," in which that monarch was sumptuously feasted by the [primeval] inhabitants of this place, three centuries ago. But money must have been of extreme value, and provisions very cheap in that age, as it is said the banquet cost only thirty pounds; or perhaps what then was considered a _feast_, would in these days of luxury be thought an _ordinary meal_. The following anecdote will give you an idea of the strength of the edifice. A crazy soldier once shut himself up in it while the garrison were dining, and although he was strongly besieged, maintained possession for two hours ere he was overcome. As we are to rise at five o'clock to-morrow morning, for the purpose of embarking for Rouen in the steamboat, I most retire to rest. Accept our love, and remember us affectionately to aunt Margaret and Albert. I hope you had a safe journey home from Southampton, and found all well at the Lodge. Yours,

LEONTINE.

* * * * *

LETTER SECOND.

The Seine--Quillebeuf--Candebeck--Curious Rite at the Village of St. Arnold--La Mailleraie--Abbey of Jamièges--Charles the Seventh and Agnes Sorrel--Chateau of Robert le Diable--Arrival at Rouen.

ROUEN, ----.

_My Dear Jane:_--

What a silly creature you are to be sure!--to have preferred the shades of Morren Lodge, and the company of good aunt Margaret, (not to say that of somebody else, for fear of a blush,) to accompanying us in our present tour! I am more and more enchanted as we proceed, and cannot help bewailing your decision, whenever we are partaking of any pleasure or amusement. 'Tis true, you tell us that after your marriage next spring, Albert intends visiting the continent; but dear me! how many things may occur in the meanwhile to alter your plans. Nay, the knot may never be tied--for its no "wonder of wonders" now-a-days for lads and lasses to change their minds. And should you prove a "constant couple," and the wedding take place, I doubt that Albert will be able to tear himself from his books and musty parchments. You know I've often told you, that he never would have fallen in love with your ladyship, I'm convinced, had he not surprised you that eventful morning in papa's study, reading the life of the American President Thomas Jefferson, while the rest of us were playing at battledore on the lawn; and this you may tell him if you choose. "Well, enough of rattle, Leontine, (I hear you say,) and do let's have something interesting." So you shall, sister Jane; and I hasten to give you an account of our voyage from Havre to this ancient capital. It was delightful! We were favored with clear skies and propitious breezes, and remained on deck the whole day to enjoy the scenery, for the banks of the Seine are highly cultivated, and at every turn present beautiful points of view. We glided by many villages, and several monasteries and castles. Among the former I will only mention Quillebeuf and Candebeck. Quillebeuf is famous for its ninety-nine pilots; and as the navigation there is extremely dangerous for vessels, they have full employment. It is remarkable that their number has always been ninety-nine from time immemorial. Candebeck is situated immediately on the bank of the river, and Vernet, the celebrated marine painter, pronounced the view from its quay one of the most beautiful water prospects in France. An old lady on board the steamboat, told mamma and myself, as we were passing Candebeck, that a few miles from it there is a village called St. Arnold, which contains a pool of stagnant water, that many credulous people believe efficacious in healing cutaneous diseases, and that at a certain period of the year, numbers who are afflicted with such disorders go to bathe in the pool. First, however, a particular ceremony must be performed, or the water will have no effect. Each applicant for health, must _steal_ from the neighboring woods a stick, and cast it down to assist in forming a pile. In the evening this is set on fire by the curate of the village, who comes forth dressed in his sacerdotal robes, and accompanied by priests chanting a hymn. When the smoke begins to darken the air, a white pigeon is let loose from the spire of the church, and the poor deluded sufferers firmly believe it to be the holy ghost descending from heaven to cure them! Quillebeuf and Candebeck are both associated with historical recollections. The former was fortified by Henry the Fourth, who considered it an important point, and wished to have it called Henry'sville, after himself. This was not done however, and since his death the fortifications have been destroyed. It was at Candebeck that William the Conqueror crossed the Seine in 1047, on his way to Arques, to quell a sedition among the people there, under the Count of Arques. It was governed by the famous Talbot during the reign of Henry the Fifth of England, and the inhabitants distinguished themselves by their bravery in a combat with the English. At one period it was noted for its manufactures of hats and gloves; and at that time no one of _bon ton_ would wear a hat that was not made at Candebeck. The revocation of the edict of Nantz proved a death blow to the industry of this town. Soon after leaving it, we passed the Chateau of La Mailleraie, once the residence of Mademoiselle De la Vallière, during her youth. The mansion is spacious, and its gardens and thickets looked very inviting. In 1824 the Duchess of Berri visited this retreat, and breakfasted in the garden; and to commemorate this circumstance, a white marble column has been erected there. I wonder they did not surmount it with a _coffee-pot_. Beyond La Mailleraie the scenery is rather monotonous, but at length you approach the Abbey of Jamièges, (founded by Saint Philibert,) and the landscape becomes lovely. This noble ruin, with its numerous Gothic windows, was a majestic spectacle. Being situated on a peninsula, round which our course extended, we had a view of it for a considerable time; at last, to my regret, it faded from our sight. Charles the Seventh built a fine villa in the neighborhood of Jamièges, and here the beautiful, but sinful and unhappy Agnes Sorrel, resided. At her death her heart was deposited in the Abbey, and her body carried to Loches, where it was interred with great ceremony in the choir of the collegiate church, for Agnes had been extremely munificent to the canons of Loches, giving them two thousand crowns and quantities of jewels, tapestry and pictures; and these crafty ecclesiastics paid her remains all due respect during the life of Charles the Seventh, her royal lover; but after his demise, while Louis the Eleventh was visiting their church, knowing that he detested Agnes, and designing to flatter him, they pointed out her tomb and requested permission to have it removed. "I consent," replied the monarch, (indignant at their duplicity and ingratitude,) "but you must first restore the riches she lavished upon you." The last object I will now describe to you is the Chateau of "Robert le Diable," a wicked wretch, whose crimes sullied the earth, and whose spirit is believed by the superstitious still to haunt the places that witnessed them. The scanty remains of his fortress are just visible on a rocky height on the southern bank of the Seine. Beneath the steep you behold La Vacherie, a neat little country seat that is worthy of notice, as being the residence of Madame Bocage when she composed her "Colombiade." We landed at Rouen about six o'clock, and are located in a comfortable hotel, where papa says we will remain until we have seen all the curiosities of this interesting old city. You will therefore hear from me again ere our departure. Yours truly,

LEONTINE.