Newspaper Page Text
imnwM miMii mam
TERMS, *2,00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE.
(Original
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
the homeless
In the stieet he pauseth,
Near a mansion tall;
Light upon him streameth,
Fn>m the brilliant hall.
Light upon him streameth,
Standing there apart,
But a shadow falleth
Daik upon his heart.
Now the tones of music.
In a glad refrain,
Waken sleeping echoes
In his heart and brain, —
Waken from their slumbers,
Memories of the Past,
When beloved voices
Spells around luni east.
\nd he gazes sadly,
Asa form of grace
Passeth by the window —
Smiles upon her face.
Envies In* the master
Os that mansion fair,
With his gold and splendor,
And their cark and cate l
Nay, his gold and splendor
Envy cannot move ;
Richer treasures hath he, —
Even Home and Love.
Sad the. Homeless turneth,
Turncth quick away,
While the shadows gather
Darker round his way.
God!” in pain, he crieth,
“ What is life to me ?
Ceaseless aspiration,
Ever mocked to be!
•< Homes in all their beauty,
Homes which love hath blest,
(May a benediction
Bull upon them rest—)
“ Here are all around me,
With their halls of pride,
Where the brave and lovely,
Evermore abide.
“ Where all homelike voices,
‘Haunt the charmed air,
And a light from heaven
Streameth everywhere
“ But not e’en a cabin,
‘Neath yon heaven’s dome,
Beareth for the Lone One,
The sacred name of home.”
To his lodgings turning—
Sickness at his heart,
Findeth he no angel,
Solace to impart.
Neither smile nor love-kiss,
Greets him at his door,
And hLs room is lonely—
Lonely evermore.
Cobwebs in the corners,
Dust on tloor and wall,
And unbroken silence,
Broodeth over all.
(Original fairs.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE
FAVOURITE OF THE CZAR.
AN INCIDENT IN THE REIGN OF PAUL I.
[From the French of Paul Beu.]
BY MRS. ANNE F LAW.
CHAPTER IV.
i'he palace of Saint Michel, whose
rapid construction had been hastened
by Paul 1, as though he desired to pre
side himself at the erection of his own
tomb; —this imperial residence, ac
cording to the design of the villa, of the
great Frederick, had at length become
the abode of the Czar, and of the im
perial family.
Fretted by anxiety, devoured by
inquietude, and agitated by fears con
stantly recurring, the Emperor yielded
at last to the impetuosity of his unruly
character.
Di verted from that course of action j
by which his good qualities would have
been maintained, if seconded by wise
counsels, and faithful devotedness, —
Faul allowed himself to be drawn to
th<> fatal declivity, which conducted
him to a horrible and tragic end. and
accelerated a violence, which he was
not sufficiently his own master, to re
train, from the moment he believed
his authority threatened, and his orders
disputed.
W ithout regard for services render
ed him, titles, rank, or birth, he struck
indiscriminately all those whom he
thought to be opposed to his orders,
ai 'd the non-observance of the ridieu
!"Us measures he prescribed, was often
’he cause of cruel and shameful chas
tisements. Even his family was not
sheltered from his unjust rigour,—and
’he Empress was more than once forced
t 0 undergo a discipline heretofore re
served for the officers of the army, that
being placed under arrest.
*■ ‘Her this military treatment, she
was one day confined to her apart
ments, two gentlemen guards, accord
,ll” to the orders of Paul, defending
’he entrance, when a young and beau*
b lady, who, judging from the insig
llla <d the grand cross of the order of
a-lte, occupied a high station at court,
* a| d a few words to the guard, and was
“ ‘"dueed into the presence of the Em
press.
-*u affectionate smile, a movement
‘be hand graciously and benevolent
! to the young female, were
‘cceived by her with respectful affec
",n - W hen she had taken .the seat
tbich the mute invitation of the Em
A fAMM WIIMI., Wmm TB MTUMTBM, W Am MB SCiMCIS* MB TB SIMM. IMmiBMBK
press assigned her, and which was
placed very near the Queen, her majes
ty said:
” \ou see me again, dear Countess,
exposed to the privations which it has
pleased our gracious Sovereign to im
pose upon me, and I am infinitely
obliged to you for using your preroga
tives to visit a poor recluse, who would
not complain of the punishment inflict
ed on her, if the presence of her chil
dren were not interdicted.”
“‘Your Majesty knows how happy I
esteem myself, to be able to give new
proofs of my gratitude ; and if I must
deplore the favours heaped upon me, I
can only support the burden, by the
consciousness of not having deserved
them, and by the protection with which
your Majesty honours me.”
“ And this protection will never be
withdrawn from you, dear child, as long
as I am persuaded, that in the false po
sition in which the Emperor has placed
you, you remain always worthy of my
atfection.”
u My most secret thoughts belong to
your Majesty, and I can never betray
the august confidence you have deigned
to accord to me.”
“ hot us abandon this subject, which
is to me no cause ot suspicion, Anna,
and cease protestations, of the truth of
which your conduct is the best proof.
1 have not yet congratulated you on
the new dignity which has placed you
at the head of the order of Malte.
“ I do not know, madam, if 1 ought
to congratulate myself on a distinction,
which, however honourable, places me
on a level with the old valet-de-chambre
of the Emperor.”
“ “W hen the Emperor confides to the
heir of his throne the care of a planta
tion ot trees, what can be expected
from his discernment ? As for the
rest, do not trouble yourself, Countess,”
smilingly added the Empress; “ A
glove tailing from your hand, at pre
sent regulates the proceedings at the
Czar's palace ; —such is the order of the
day, —and this new courtesy is to you
a proof, that if he shows little judge
ment in the distribution of his favours,
the Emperor seizes with avidity all oc
casions to render himself agreeable in
your eves.”
“ Would to Heaven, madam, that 1
had remained unknown ! My days
would then pass peaceably at my fa
ther's fireside ; —my name would not
be exposed to unjust and injurious sus
picions ; —envy would not beset my
path, nor calumny poison, with its sti
fling vapour, the air I breathe.”
“ But you would have lost the op
portunity,” replied the Empress with
kindness, —“of accomplishing the good
which results from the powerful influ
ence you exercise over the mind of the
Czar. And while 1 think of it, Anna,
I must offer you my sincere thanks; —
for, I have learned that by your inter
cession, the niece of the Vice Presi
dent of the Academy, has escaped the
shaireful punishment which the Czar
proposed inflicting on her. If she dis
played the noble pride of not bending
her knee before him, you have had the
noble courage to constitute yourself her
defender, and to snatch her from the
unjust chastisement to which she was
condemned. Others would have shrunk
from the perils of such a defence ; —it
belonged to you to plead the cause of
our sex, and it is in the name of all
woman, Anna, that I thank you.”
Maria Fedorovna gave her hand to
the favourite, which she respectfully
kissed, bathing it with her tears.
“ Excuse me, madam, and by your
indulgent goodness, deign to forget the
complaints, which my respect for your
Majesty ought to restrain. There ex
ists in this Empire a lady, to whom all
homage is due, for she knows how to
make generous sacrifices for the peace
of her family. Seated on the throne,
she enhances its dignity by the fulfil
ment of every virtue. It little becomes
me to mourn my lot, when the Em
press has so often occasion to deplore
hers.”
“ I do not deplore, dear Countess,
either my desertion, or the sorrows
which it pleases the Lord to send me ;
1 endeavour to support them, in the
hope of a happier future. And if I
complain of the wrong done me by the
Emperor, I throw the blame much less
on him, than on his favourites, who,
keeping him constantly irritated, take
pains to render him both odious, and
ridiculous.”
“ The angelic mildness of your Ma
jesty, your pious resignation, and your
love for your august children, will end,
madam, by recalling to your feet, a
prince who is irritated by cruel remem
brances, assailed by many fears, and
apparently surrounded by many dan
gers. The Emperor of Russia will not
disgrace the Comte du Nord ; his no
ble qualities will regain all their lustre,
and will cause to be forgotten, both,
hasty passion, and transient caprice.”
“ You deceive yourself, dear Anna,
or your ingenious affection seeks to
make me deceive myself. No longer
cherish such ideas, for the evil is with
out remedy. At long intervals, if an
azure sky o’erspreads the palace, still
the thunder incessantly roars, even be
hind the seemingly clear horizon. The
Emperor has learned to suspect his
own family, the Czarovitch, and Con
stantin are involved in their mother’s
disgrace. Suspicions and terror have
compromised the peaceful joy of the
family ; it is only bv stealth that I can
press my sons to my heart, and leave
the traces of my tears on the cheeks of
my daughters.”
The Empress overcome by her emo
tion, could not proceed ; the flood of
tears which filled her eyes, gave added
sorrow to Anna, and the two noble
women were still under the influence
of profound emotion, when the doors
of the saloon opened, and Paul appear
ed, accompanied by Alexander and Con
stantin.
To judge from his first salutation,
the Emperor seemed to contradict en
tirely all that the Empress had just
said. Appearing to have forgotten the
cause that had banished the Czarine to
her apartments, he manifested towards
her a gentle and affectionate intimacy.
The presence of Anna, far from being
vexatious, obtained from him a gracious
salutation, and a courtly compliment,
such as Paul was accustomed to bestow
on his ladies of honour, when his mind,
momentarily withdrawn from gloomy
preoccupation, gave way to the natural
inspirations of his heart.
But at the sight of the Emperor, and
whilst he addressed to her gentle, and
courteous words, Anna, could not con
ceal the agitation which deprived her
of her usual self-possession ; an icy
coldness ran through her veins, and the
roses of her cheeks disappeared, giving
place to a mortal paleness.
This sudden manifestation of feeling
could not escape the piercing looks of
Paul; forthwith drawing his own con
clusions from Anna’s violent agitation,
(whilst at the end of the saloon, the
Empress was engaged conversing in a
low voice with her two sons,) the Em
peror addressed her in a tone of vio
lence and rudeness which he had never
employed towards her before.
“ Are you, madam,” said he, “capa
ble of an unworthy weakness, or of
base flattery, and are we to believe
that grave confidences, and august pro
jects have been developed by you to
those, who, if we should be pleased to
impart them, ought only to learn them
the moment we have fixed for the reve
lation.”
These harsh and unjust reproaches,
acted favourably on Anna. Iler offend
ed dignity, the suspicions cast upon
her probity, gave the young favourite
assurance of her own energy, and it was
with noble confidence that she replied
to Paul:
“ If, in the brilliant situation to
which it has pleased your Majesty to
raise me, 1 had not had courage to re
fuse your marked favours, I challenge
your recollection, Sire, whether I have
had to reproach myself with having
betrayed the confidence with which you
have deigned to honour me. When
this morning I repulsed offers, which so
many motives caused me to refuse, at
the same time I imposed on myself a
secret promise, to bury them in an im
penetrable silence. To this engage
ment, to this promise I have no more
failed in the presence of my sovereign,
than 1 will fail in the presence of death,
when it shall please God to send it to
me.”
“You will always be a perfect woman,
Anna, and it will always be from you,
that we shall seek the good advice, that
so many of our other subjects refuse us.”
The lovely Countess now took leave
of the Empress, and saluted the princes,
who, with their mother, addressed to
her affectionate adieux. Anna was con
ducted by an officer of the gentlemen
guards, who accompanied her to her
equipage. Paul, who by some par
ticular circumstance seemed to have
been led to the Empress, forgot, with
out doubt, the motive of his visit, for
he did not return to her, and regained
his cabinet by some of the mysterious
passages which conducted to it.
Left to her solitary reflections, Anna
could again sorrow over the dangers
of her elevation. Another than she
would doubtless not have repulsed with
so virtuous an indignation, the offer
made to her by Paul the morning of
this same day, to repudiate the Empress
Marie, and place on her own head the
crown of the Empire. Not only was
her visit to her sovereign an energetic
protestation against this senseles desire,
caused by the blind passion of the
Czar, but her silence, and her respect
ful reserve towards the unfortunate
princess, were an homage rendered to
grief, and anew testimony of the puri
ty of her intentions.
While she regained her palace, the
Empress remaining alone with the two
Grand Dukes, at last at liberty, and
without fear, thought to congratulate
herself on this rare favour, and to re
joice over the happy union which ap
peared to exist between the Emperor
and his two son,s; but soon undeceived
CHARLESTON, SATURDAY, JULY 27. 1850
by the Czarovitch and his brother, her
tears flowed anew, when both disclosed
to her that their father had summoned
them to his cabinet, had accused them
of conspiring his ruin, and notwith
standing their zealous protestations,
and the manifestation of the horror
occasioned by so infamous a suspicion,
he had made them swear on a crucifix
that they would not attempt to take his
life.
CHAPTER V.
In the high rank in which Paul I had
placed Anna Laponkhin, the latter al
ways commanded the respect and ad
miration of those to whom opportuni
ties were given to appreciate her
proud reserve, and the wisdom with
which the favourite avoided the perilous
dangers of her delicate position. If
the tongues of evil speakers, if the at
tacks of calumny did not always res
pect the purity of her conduct, and the
nobleness of her sentiments, she at
least possessed the art of conciliating
with the favour of the Emperor, the
general public esteem. Beside this,
she had gained the rare merit of giving
honour to a title which until then had
concealed under the splendour of its
greatness, an immoral connexion, and
which, before her day, had never been
the object of sincere and respectable
regard.
Mhy did she prefer the distinc
tions granted her by Paul, with inces
sant proofs of his liberality, and ofhis
favour, to the solitary and tranquil life
she led at Moscow ? Why did she
consent to change the gentle pleasures
of her youth, for the intrigues and ri
valries of the Czar’s court ? Why did
she not repulse with indignation,—she,
so virtuous, and so candid, —a rank
which exposed her to disdain, and con
tempt ? We have already said that
Paul was a violent and imperious mas
ter : ihe first smile of the monarch
had been the symptom of a benevolent
interest for Anna’s father ; the second,
was that of the reinstatement of the
husband of Catharine Laponkhin, in
the office from which he had been exiled
by misunderstanding. But besides, to
preserve herself pure amid the seduc
tions, which, each day, the of
monarch rendered more attractive, and
more numerous, did not the young fa
vourite shelter, under the impenetra
ble veil of mystery, one of those ideas
which imprint themselves much better
on the memory, when to their expres
sion is attached a mournful catastro
phe; one of those noble sentiments of
which the discovery must always escape
the piercing looks of jealousy, and fury?
The continuance of this recital will
complete in all eyes, the justification
of the heroine of the Episode which
we have detached from the life ofPaul,
and disclose all that was admirable in
the heart of the beautiful Anna, and
all the magnanimity of her imperial
lover.
The palace of Saint Michel, was
decked with the livery of Anna La
ponkhin. In one of the excesses of
prodigality, when Paul endeavoured to
surpass the luxury displayed by his
mother, exhibited all the splendour of
royal magnificence. Wit, and fancy
united, removed from the interior of
the palace, the chilling atmosphere
which congealed the waters of the
Neva. A mild temperature circulated
through the sumptuous apartments.—
Tropical plants there displayed a
mingled combination of colour and
form. Under the shelter of these,
flowers from the interior of Europe,
exhaled rich perfumes. The delicious
music executed by the Emperor’s
guards, floated on the ear; sometimes
sending forth so lively an air, as to pre
cipitate one into the centre of gaiety,
and then chanting to slow and gentle ca
dences, which seemed to heighten all
their charms.
The most eminent of the Russian
nobility were collected together at the
splendid ffite given by the Emperor.
Grace and beauty, the freshness of
youth, and splendour of attire, were
added to the rich and elegant decora
tions with which the galleries of the
palace were ornamented. The flash of
jewels which sparkled on the persons
of the ladies, continually reflected the
brilliant light which gushed from flam
ing sheafs projected from the chande
liers and lustres, artfully and profusely
arranged in the saloons of the imperial
residence.
By one of those inexplicable ca
prices, of which the character of Paul 1
offer so many examples, to add to the
regal magnificence, or, as some histo
rians pretend, to dazzle Anna, by ex
pensive innovations—on the same oc
casion the gentlemen guards wore for
the first time, the rich and brilliant
uniform which the Emperor had invent
ed, ordering for this purpose that all the
massive plate of the government should
be melted.
But, in the midst of the beauties
which attracted observation, and com
manded admiration, no one shone with
as lively and pure a splendour as the
young favourite. Surrounded by hom-
age and by respect which were address
ed less to her rank, than to her charms
and noble qualities, Anna Laponkhin
displayed neither an air of triumph,
nor the haughty disdain, under which
so many women before her had cloaked
the humiliating prerogatives of their
ephemeral reign. In her was neither
vanity nor pride ; the simplicity of her
countenance was a type of the candour
of her soul, and if the ta -teful neatness
of her costume disclosed a distinguish
ed origin, detached from the pompous
attire of luxury and magnificence, no
thing in her deportment, or in her dress,
revealed the high favour of which she
was the object.
Already the quadrille had been more
than once renewed, already the waltz
had twide furnished opportunity to
Anna Laponkhin, to display her incom
parable lightness and exceeding grace.
Either the two cavaliers, —who were
so happy as to have obtained her hand
in the dance.—merited the smile which
she never refused to an elegant and
skilful dancer, and this smile had been
remarked by the Emperor, or, the
handsome appearance of the young
Lords Laribeaupierre, and Barazdin,
who had waltzed with Anna, had given
offence to Paul; for he immediately
ordered them to leave the Palace. The
one, was placed under arrest in the
Citadelle, for twenty four hours ; and
the other was enjoined not to appear in
Saint Petersburg.
This measure, anew proof of the
hasty temper, and of the whimsical
mind of the Emperor, soon became
known, and the enemies of Paul, were
zealous to spread it abroad.
The f&te, commenced under the at
traction of pleasure, was continued
only by reason of constraint, when an
unforseeu incident occurred, to give it a
new phase.
A word whispered in the ear of the
Emperor, by an officer-general, who
followed his steps, dispelled his bad
humour, the marks of which he had
not sought to conceal. Assuming im
mediately a smiling countenance, he
turned towards the officer :
“We have received happy news
from our array in Italy,” said he with
a loud voice, “ news from our brave
Souvarof! It could not have arrived
at a more fortunate moment. Some
one introduce the messenger!”
“ Your Majesty understands without
doubt, that the despatches must be re
mitted to him immediately.”
“The messenger, General, the mes
senger ! We wish after delivering the
despatches, that he shall report to our
commander in chief, the proofs of our
high satifaetion ; we mean that he shall
leave our capitol to the sound of the
artillery of the fortress, and to the
music of our imperial trumpets.”
This infringement of the laws of eti
quette, would, under the circumstances,
have caused a lively sensation ; on this
occasion, it furnished so happy a di
version, that it provoked general in
terest. The dance ceased, and groups
were formed at a respectful distance,
though as near to the monarch as was
possible.
Some moments afterwards, the mes
senger, in a travelling dress, presented
himself in the gallery, where Paul was
waiting with impatience.
The despatches of Souvarof were
handed to the Emperor, who hastened
to read them. They announced to him
an important advantage gained by the
Russians, and presaged some new ones.
The messenger obtained testimonies
of the munificence of his sovereign,
and received his order to return to
Souvarof, to carry to him an imperial
message.
The congratulations of the Lords of
the court, succeeded with emulation, and
Paul accepted them with as much ea
gerness as favour.
When, in turn came Anna Laponk
hin, the Emperor remarked her exces
sive paleness, and the trembling with
which her limbs were agitated; he
attributed this sudden alteration to the
scene which had preceded the delivery
of Souvarof’s despatches. Touched
by Anna’s dejection, he offered her his
hand, and conducted her into a neigh
bouring apartment, whither he desired
two ladies of the court to accompany
her.
“ Have we,” said he, “ by the order
we delivered, incurred your displea
sure ? or does your disquietude arise
the emotion caused by the success of
our arms!”
“ I have never sought to penetrate
the motives which dictate the conduct
of your Majesty ; and in reply to your
second question, who, more than my
self, Sire, has ever desired that your
reign should be glorious V’
“ We render you this justice, Anna,
and to give you anew proof of our
imperial confidence, we will read to you
the despatches of our brave Souvarof.”
At this unexpected reply, the fear
tures of the favourite assumed anew
expression ; her paleness disappeared ;
desire, and fear were by turns painted
on her face.
The Emperor alone remarked the
sentiment of satisfaction. He read to
Anna the despatches, and did not even
omit the names of the wounded. Ilis
reading was suddenly interrupted by
a rending cry, followed by the fainting
of the young girl ; and this threw Paul
into an excessive inquietude.
The ladies who had accompanied
them, surrounded Anna, who, thanks
to their attention, soon regained her
senses.
During this time Paul continued
walking with rapid strides, and his agi
tation was manifested by sudden ex
clamations, and by hasty movements.
Scarcely had Anna revived, ere the
Czar, impatient to know the cause of
her sudden illness, made a sign for the
ladies to retire, and remained alone with
her. She well comprehended her criti
cal situation, and armed herself with
all her courage.
“ To what can we attribute the shriek
which escaped you, Madam, and the
faintness with which you were seized,”
said the Emperor after a brief silence.
“To the emotion which I could not
repress, Sire, when you named, among
those who were wounded, my betroth
ed.”
“Your betrothed!” said the monarch.
“ This, Madam, is singular news which
you give us. What is this mystery ?
Who is it that exercises over your heart
so powerful a sway ?”
“ The Prince Gagarin, Sire.”
“ The Prince Gagarin!’’ repeated
the Emperor, “ but this officer, three
years since, joined uur army in Italy.”
“ And four years ago, Sire, his fami
ly, and mine, had resolved upon our
union.”
“ We thus learn, Madam, that you
have not judged us worthy of your
confidence ! We must avow to you
however, that we had never supposed
you capable of such dissimulation.”
Until this moment, Anna had shown
in her answers as much firmness as dis
cretion ; but the reproach addressed to
her by the Emperor, shook her first
resolutions, and she could only reply
by tears.
Paul, who had never before seen
them flow from her eyes, at once felt
himself moved to pity, and took the
hand of the favourite.
“ You also,” said he, “ you, whose
heart I had thought to be so sensible
and good, you, have doubted me ; you
have looked upon your sovereign as
tyrannical, and capricious; you have
believed him incapable of noble senti
ments, and of generous inspirations !”
“ No, Sire,” promptly replied Anna,
touched by the kind manner in which
the Emperor now addressed her, “ I
have no more mistaken the magnanimi
ty of your character, than I have doubt
ed your generosity. If I have not in
formed your Majesty of the projects of
my family, do not accuse my heart of
a want of confidence towards you.—
This secret was not mine alone, it be
longed also to Gagarin’s relations, and
I had this consciousness that if I mer
ited your goodness, I could accept the
proofs of it without blushing.”
“ Stop at this thought alone, Anna;
forget all that has preeded this inci
dent. You love the Prince Gagarin,
Alina ?”
Anna drooped her eyes, without re
plying.
“ You do love him! Receive then
our imperial word, that the prince shall
be your husband.”
It was thus, in this memorable cir
cumstance, that this singular man,
whose happiness had just been entirely
destroyed, showed a true greatness of
soul.
Not only did Paul publicly author
ize the union of Anna, with the Prince
Gagarin, but he provided worthily for
the advancement of their fortunes.
Some years after the death of Paul
a decline removed Anna Petrovna, —
princess of Gagarin from Petersburg,—
who, to her last moments, spoke of
her benefactor with commisseration,
and with sentiments of the deepest
gratitude.
tT'lir lUnicuicr.
SUMMER TRAVEL IN THE SOUTH.
1. Letters from the Allegheny Mountains.
By Chains Lanman, author of “ A Tour to
the River Saguenay,” “ A Summer in the
Wilderness,” and “ Essays for Summer
Hours.” New York: Geo. P. Putnam. 1849.
2. Georgia Illustrated, in a series of Views.
Engraved from oiiginal sketches by T. Addi
son Richards. The topog aphical depart
ment edited by Will.am C. Richards.
[continued from last week.]
The dtsagremens of these extempo
raneous progresses were not limited to
bad roads and clumsy or crazy vehi
cles, rude dwellings, and the absence
of the usual comforts upon which the
gentry of the low country of the South,
trained in English schools, are apt to
insist with, perhaps, a little too much
tenacity. We are compelled to make
one admission, in respect to our interi
or, which we do in great grief of heart,
and much vexation of spirit. If the
schoolmaster is abroad, the cook is not!
Our cuisine is not well ordered in the
forest country. The “ Physiologic de
Goitt' 1 ' 1 has never there been made a
text book, in the schools of culinary
philosophy. We doubt if a single copy
of this grave authority can be found in
THIRD VOLUME-NO. 13 WHOLE NO 113.
all the mountain ranges of the Apa
lachian. They have the grace and the
gravy ; but these are not made to min
gle as they should. The art which
weds the vinegar and the oil, in hap
piest harmonies, so that neither is suf
fered to prevail in the taste, has never,
in this region, commanded that careful
study, or indeed consideration, which
their union properly demands. The
rank of the cuisinier is not properly
recognized. The weight and impor
tance of a grain of salt in the adjust
ment (shall we say compromise ?) of
a selade, is, we grieve to say, not just
ly understood in our forest watering
places; and, skilful enough at a julep
or a sherry colder, they betray, but
“ prentice ban’s” when a steak, or a
sauce, is the subject of preparation. —
Monsieur Guizot, speaking in properly
dignified language of the common sen
timent of France, insists that she is
the most perfect representative of the
civilization of Christendom. Os course,
he bases her claims to this position en
tirely on the virtues of her cuisine.—
The moral of the nation comes from j
the kitchen. The “good digestion”
which should “wait on appetite” must
be impossible where the chef de cuisine
falls short of the philosopher as well
as the man of science. Now, of all
that philosophy which prepares the
food with a due regard, not only to the
meats and vegetables themselves, the
graces and the gravies, but to the tem
peraments of the consumers, we are
sorry to confess that we have but little
in our vast interior. Our mountain
cooks think they have done every thing
when they have murdered a fillet of
veal or a haunch of venison,—sodden
them in lard or butter, baked or boiled
them to a condition which admirably
resembles the pulpy masses of cotton
rag, when macerated for paper manu
facture, —and wonders to see you mince
gingerly of a dish which he himself
w ill devour with the savage appetite of
a Cumanche ! You have seen a royal
side of venison brought in during the
morning, and laid out upon the tavern
shambles; —you have set your heart
upon the dinner of that day. Fancy
reminds you ot the relish with which,
at the St. Charles, in New-Orleans, or
the Pulaski, in Savannah,or the Charles
ton Hotel, you have discussed the ex
quisitely dressed loin, or haunch, done
to a turn ; the red just tinging the
gravy, the meat just offering such plea
sant resistance to the knife as leaves
the intricate fibres still closely united,
though shedding their juices with the
eagerness of the peach, pressed between
the lips in the very hour of its matu
rity ; —or you see a fine “mutton”
brought in, of the wild flavour of the
hills; and you examine, with the eye
of the epicure, the voluminous fat, fold
upon fold, lapping itself lovingly about
the loins. Leg, or loin, or saddle, or
shoulder, suggests itself to your antici
pation as the probable subject of noon
day discussion. You lay yourself out
for the argument, and naturally recur
to the last famous dinner which you
enjoyed with the reverend father, who
presides so equally well at the Church
of the St. Savori, and at his own excel
lent hotel in the Rue des Huitres.—
You remember all the company, admi
rable judges, every one of them, of the
virtues and the graces of a proper feast.
The reverend father, himself, belongs
to that excellent school of which the
English clergy still show you so many
grateful living examples, —men whose
sensibilities are not yielded to the bar
ren empire of mind merely, but who
bring thought and philosophy equally
to bear upon the humble and too fre
quently mortified flesh. With the spec
tacle of the venerable host, presiding
so gracefully and so amiably—the nap
kin tucked beneath his chin, and falling
over the ample domain in which cer
tain philosophers, with much show of
reason, have found the mortal abiding
place of the soul —you associate the
happy action with w hich, slightly flour
ishing the bright steel before he smites,
he then passes the scymitar-like edge
into the rosy round before him, It is
no rude or hurried act. He feels the
responsibility of the duty. lie has
properly studied the relations of the
parts. He knows just w here to insin
uate the blade ; and the mild dignity
with which the act is performed, re
minds you of what you have seen in
pictures, or read in books, of the sacri
fices of the high priests and magi, at
Grecian or Egyptian altars. What si
lence waits upon the stroke! and, as
the warm blood gushes forth, and the
rubid edges of the wound lie bare be
fore your eyes, every bosom feels re
lieved ! The augury has been a fortu
nate one, and the feast begins under
auspices that drive all doubts, of what
to-morrow may bring forth, entirely
from the thought.
With such recollections kindling the
imagination, our extempore hotels of
the Apalachian regions will doom you
to frequent disappointment. You see
yourself surrounded by masses that
may be boiled or roasted polypi for
what you know. But where’s the mut
ton and the venison ? You call upon
the landlord—a gaunt-looking tyke of
the forest, who seems better fitted to
hunt the game than take charge of its
toilet. He is serving a score at once ;
with one hand heaping beef and bacon,
with the other collards and cucumbers,
into conflicting plates; and you fall
back speechless, with the sudden dis
persion of a thousand fancies of delight,
as he tells you that the mutton, or the
venison, w hich has been the subject of
your revere all the morning, lies before
you in the undistinguishable mass, that
has distressed you with notions of the
polypus and sea-blubber, or some other
unknown monstrosities of the deep or
forest. But the subject is one quite
too distressing for dilation. We feel
for our readers, and must forbear.—
But, we solemnly say to our Apala
chian landlord, “ Brother, this thing
must be amended. You have no right
to sport thus with the hopes, the health,
the happiness of your guests. You
have no right, in this way, to mortify
your neighbours’ flesh. Have you no
sense of the evil which you are
—no bow els of sympathy for those ot
other people ? Is it piide, or indolence,
or mere blindness and ignorance, which
thus renders you reckless ot wl.at is
due to humanity and society, and all
that tine philosoj hy which the Roman
epicure found essential to reconcile to
becoming sensibilities the mere brutish
necessities of the animal economy ]—
You must import and educate your
cooks. You must appreciate justly the
morals of the kitchen. You must study
with diligence, night and morning, the
profound pages of the Phystologie de
Gout • you must forswear those streams
of lard, those cruel abuses of the flesh,
those hard bakings of meats otherwise
tender, those salt and savage sodden
iugs of venison, otherwise sweet, those
mountains of long collards, inadequate
ly boiled, and those indigestible masses
of dough, whether in the form of pies,
or tarts, or biscuit, which need a yesty
levity before they can possibly assimi
late with the human system. We have
often thought, seeing these heavy pas
ties upon your tables, that, if they
could only command a voice, they
w’ould perpetually cry out to the needy
and devouring guest, in the language
of the ghosts to hunchback Richard,
‘ Let us lie heavy on thy soul to-mor
row !’ ”
So much by way of objurgation and
exhortation. We have spoken now of
all the disagreeables of travel in the
South —all the natural consequencies of
the previous neglect, by our “ Soft
heads,” of the claims of their own
country. The change in affairs which
shall hereafter keep these at home, w ill,
in a short period, work out its natural
fruits; and, with the increased facili
ties of travel, with better roads and
better vehicles, we shall no doubt see
such improvements in the Apalachian
cuisine, as will leave to the stomach no
ocea ion for revolt. Lotus proceed to
take a rapid bird’s eye glance of, the
several points of attraction in the
Southern States ofthe Atlantic country.
Virginia, the Mother of States, w ill
first claim our attention ; but her points
of attraction, to the seeker after health
and the picturesque, are too well known
to require much detail. As regards
both, we have rio doubt that Virginia
w ill compare favourably w ith any re
gion in the world. A portion of her
territory on the east, that which skirts
the sea and is penetrated by rivers run
ning through low lands, is liable, in
the absence of a dense population, to
the debilitating chills and fever usual
under such circumstances. In all other
partfs, a more bracing climate, a more
invigorating and health” atmosphere,
does not spread beneath the cope of
heaven; and, even in those regions
which are sickly, a denser population,
for the purposes of drainage and thor
ough tillage, is ail that is necessary to
render the climate as hea'thy as any
portion of Long Island or Connecticut.
Along the sea, who needs to be re
minded of Old Point and Fortress
Calhoun, the salubrious breezes and
beauties of which reinvigorate the
spent sages of the capital, after the
brutal and harrassing strifes, the cog
ging and cajoling cares, of a wearisome
congressional session ? (>f w hat is his
to.ical and traditional, in the great
rivers which glide f om her boom into
the Atlantic, we have all the clues in
our hands when w e rememeinber that
last representative of the days of
chivalry, singularly unfortunate in an
unheroic name, John Smith; when
we recall the mighty chief, Powhatan ;
his successor, still nobler than himself
the famous, fierce old Apalachian, Ope
chancanough ; the lovely natural Chris
tian, Pocahontas; the lonely ruin of
Jamestown, the decaying nest of a
bird that has reared a progeny so nu
merous as to cover the face of the laud.
Nor can we forget Mount \ ernon, sa
cred to later histories, and destined for
longer duration in subiimer memories.
Richmond, as nobly situated as any cit v
in the United States, an abode of grace
and genius, may well arrest the foot
steps of the wayfarer for a season, w hile
tracing his route through the picturesqe
and grateful regions of Virginia. Its
beauties have never received the full
measure of justice at the hands of the
author or the artist. Ihe special places
of retreat for health, and for the cure
of disease, in Virginia, are better
known, and are singularly numerous.
Her several sulphur springs have a
world-wide reputation. That of the
\\ hite Sulphur, of Greenbriar, in es
pec al, affords one of the most grate
ful watering places in America. The
spot lies on the western declivity of
the Alleghany, in a spacious valley,
scooped out beautifully from the bosom
of the sheltering mountains. Art has
not yet striven, in rivalry with nature,
in this exquisite and salubrious abode;
she has sought only to render the lat
ter fairly accessible to the examination,
if not enjoyment, of the spectator.—
An am pie province, of more t han twelve
thousand acres, admirably susceptible
of improvement, will hereafter employ
the agencies of taste and wealth, ‘and
give great increase to the singular at
tractions of the region in all respects;
not the least of which is to be found in
that trank, elegant, and high-toned so
ciety, w hich with some small excep
tions, can only, in the United States,
be found in their Southern portions.
The Warm Springs, in Bath County,
lie north-east, some forty miles from
those of the White sulphur. They oc
cupy a sweet and fertile valley, a couple
of guardian mountains on each hand,
locking them in as so much precious
treasure. The view l from these moun
tain summits, conducting the eve over
a thousand corresponding terraces,
range upon range,—a vast ridge sti etch
ing away for more than fifty miles,
is one of the most commanding and
impressive in the country. In the
neighbourhood of these springs you
have the famous “Blowing Cave,” de
scribed in Jefferson s Notes ; a curious
miracle in nature, from which the wind,
supplied by some secret Cyclopean bel
lows, rushes forth in a torrent which is
almost irresistible, lu the same love-