Newspaper Page Text
Southern Field and Fireside.
VOL. 1.
Y [For the Sonthc.n Field and Fireside.]
4 SPRING IS COKING.
9 BY FACIOI.A.
r Spring is coming! Spring is coming!
{ Infant leaves are on the trees;
to And the little birds are humming
y Songs upon the pleasant breeze.
Karth, but late so cold and dreary,
Where its robes of snow were seen.
J' Smiling from thraldom weary,
) Spreads its carpeting of green.
J Streamlets leap like playful childhood.
From their Icy fetters free.
If Breathing to the quiet wlldwood
r Happy strains of joy and glee.
] Spring is coming, O! ho, brightly
Fall the sunbeams to the earth,
o ’ And the human heart—how lightly
J Doth It bound to hall its birth !
/ Spring is coming! Spring is coming!
''v And the fields are glad and gay;
ft And the little wild-birds, humming,
, Sport in Nature's holiday.
M • -»•«■ •
•4 [For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
f FROM A TOURIST’S QUIVER;
X 08,
f Srene* and Incidents of a Tour
y From New Orleans to New York.
BV OXE OF THE FAP.TT,
y ARROW XIII*
' Nashville makes a very favorable impression on the par
\ ty—only the Major and Tim “ growl at the hotels—
Sr history and description of the hotels—the Benton
Y and Jackson fight in one of them—How becoming
V) “half-mourning" is to widows!—TheWldow and Tim
at the capital—-Ex-President Polk's residence—An old
4 gentleman with a gold-headed cane, points out the
house, and gives account of Mr. Polk's last illness and
9 death, and moralizes thereon, for a page or two—the
/ grave of Mr. Polk—Mrs. Polk, beloved and honored by
Y all, occupies the old residence—The widows of Presl
f dents —Nashville deservedly celebrated for its beautt
f ful women—the Major duly appreciates this fact—his
\ extasies thereat, and his oscillation—The Major at the
ft implied Instance of the Widow, buys him a wig—Visit
' to the Hermitage—Jackson's tomb. And. Jackson, Jr.,
y Esq.—removal of Jackson's remains to the capital
contemplated—Mr. Jackson and Mr. Poyns disapprove
ai of the removal—Why—Napoleon should have contin
™ usd to rest in 8L Helena—Let Washington remain at
9 Mount Vernon, and Jackson at the Hermitage.
y Nashville, Tcnn., Dec. 12,155 P.
I have already spoken of the romantic beauty
to . of the site of this city. Three days sojourn in
r this refined metropolis,among its highly cultivn
y ted citizens, have quite won us over to say eve-
J rything good about it and them,were we ever so
much disposed to (Ind fault. But as the secret
9 of travelers’ growlings, as was discovered and
{. revealed by Captain Basil Hall, in his two vol-
Jr umes, is bad hotelling, (bad lodging and indiges
tiblo dining at one’s inn) which is avenged on
to the town and people to which said inn is apper-
Y taining, I have no reason for growling, being
Y luxuriantly caravanseraied in one of the most
[ charming houses in the city.
w But truth to say,the Major and Tim did growl
9 a great many bad things, and the former made
(. use of very strong language for an amiable
Jr gentlejnan in love,about the hotel where he was
' sojourning. And if I may be called a good
to judge, the hotels in this city are very far behind
y the age. Now nothing contributes more to make
Y people visit, linger in, and be pleased with a
J* place, than an inviting hotel. Comforts will in
% vite people who like comforts; and we aro get
s' ting to boa very comfort-loving people.
( The City Hotel here is the ancient and honor
y able tavern of the olden time, and shares the
' honors of history with the Nashville Inn. The
\ former is pretty much as it was filly years ago.
y Parton well describes it in his admirable Life of
Y Jackson:
“ There wero then (in 1813) two taverns on
A the Public Square. One was the old Nashville
o' Inn, at which General Jackson was accustomed
( to put ly? lor more than forty years! There, too,
y Benton, Col. Coffee, and all Jackson’s peculiar
' friends were wont to take lodgings when they
\ vi sited the town, and to hold pleasant converse
y over a glass of wine and to play billiards togeth-
Yj er—a game pursued with fanatical devotion in
the early days of Nashvillo. By the side of this
9 * Errata.—ln “Arrow Xl,’’ Field and Fireside,
J March 17th. paste 1. col. 2, about the middle, instead of
W " I knew a fellow.” read fetlovs. Ac.
] Col. 2, near bottom, instead of “ M. & 0." read
, Col. 8. tap, Instead of “planters farming,'' nnAplant-
J, ers'family. ... ,
W Col. 4, near top, instead of (“ falsehoods in orders, )
" read (falsehoods in odori.)
Y v Col 4, near the middle, instead of “by wood or by wa
) ter.” read by land, dtc.
4k Col. 6, near top, after “ web to the eye," Insert cross
" ing ravines.
9 Col. 5. three-fourths down, Instead of “ were out, read
( . score out,
W Arrow XII, 24th March, page 1, col. 8, near top, instead
/ of “ endure her book,” read “ endorse, Ac.; and for “come
N in a few,” read came. Col. 4. near top, for “nnctnous
J. originating" read unetnons originality; and for “pre
<& fers', read prefer. Omit “ to" In sixth from list line.
I JANES GARDNER, I
1 Proprietor. f
old Inn was a piece of open ground where cocks
were pitted at each other lor the entertainment
of the citizens. ,
“ The other tavern, the City Hotel, flourishes
at this day. It is one of those curious over
grown caravansaries of the olden time, nowhere
to be Seen now except in the ancient streets
of London and the old towns of the Southern
States; a huge tavern, with vast piazzas and in
terior galleries running round three sides of a
quadrangle, story above story, and quaint little
rooms with large fire-places and high mantels
opening out upon them; with long, dark pass
ages and stairs in unexpected places; and carv
ed wainscoating, and gray-haired servants who
have grown old with the old house, and can re
member General Jackson as long as they can
remember their own fathers.”
This graphic description is true to the letter
now! The old chateau-like hotel is unshorn
of any of its former glories. There we are
shown the entry where Tom Benton and Jack
son had their terrific battle, and the stairs down
which the former pitched backwards in retreat
ing, but thereby saving his life.
| One of tlibse‘quaint little rooms’ the Major
occupied, while Tim shared one opposite. The
old man who waited on the Majorwas garrulous,
and took great honor at having often cleaned the
“ old General’s ” tall boots and rubbed up his
sword; for in that day every “ gentleman ” wore
side-arms.
Thus while Nashville has taken, socially, the
front rank among cities of the west, her hotels
belong to Abe good old times, when Crockett used
to dine there in his deer-hunting shirt and leg
gins, with his rifle leaning by the side of his
chair.
As the Major and Tim were separated from
I me our moments were independent; and yes-,
terday evening as I was enjoying the view from
the capitol, I came suddenly upon Tim and the
widow, who with her brother are at the St Cloud,
who were descending the steps from the cupola.
The fair Louisianian was attired in that exquis
ite taste, which only a beautiful widow has the
savoir to develope out of those ill-assorted col
ors, black and white, yclept half-mourning!
Upon her, half-mourning was the most captiva
ting of all costumes! Whether she became it
or it became her, I could not say; but wearer
and apparel were harmony itself, like “ the con
cord of sweet sounds.” A rich fur cape and
boa set it all off admirably.
She was as brilliant as the day, laughing heart
ily at some remark {dry remark* for Tim is al
ways dry, though he never drinks) of the Ma
jor’s nephew. I was recognised at once, and in
vited to join them.
“ Where is the Major?” was my first inquiry.
After dinner he went to the barber’s —that
fat fellow that traveled in Egypt, he tells me,
and got shot by an Egyptian,” answered Tim.
“ Yes, I have promised the dear good Major,”
said the widow, “to visit the capitol with him
in the morning; but as Mr. Duval said he was
idle, and my brother was asleep, wo thought we
would do the lions up a part of to-day, as the
Major is so ricficulously fleshy he soon tires out.
What a lovely view! I wish we had some one
here to point out the places we seo.”
“ I will do so, most willingly;madame,” said a
fine looking old gentleman, who overheard the
observation, politely bowing. “ The large house,
to the South, like a mansion, with the tall, white
columns, is the abode of the respected widow of
Ex-President Polk. In that nouse he died after
ten days illness; caused by taking cold while
standing with his hat off, directing some work
men who were trimming the tall cedar you see ,
by the portico. I was passing at the time, mad
am ! Although it was July, yet it bad been
raining and was damp, and I said to the Presi
dent, that he was exposing himself; and two
days afterwards I heard he was very ill, and he
never recovered."
“I heard, sir, that ho died of cholera,” I re
marked.
“No, my dear sir, not at all,’ answered the
courteous old gentleman, softly rubbing his chin
with the polished gold head of his bamboo cane.
“The cholera broko out about that time among
us. It think it was ’49. No, sir, he got his
death by cold and inflammation following, lie
died very calmly.”
“Was he connected with any church ?” askod
the widow, with true womanly sensibility on
such points.
“ Not precisely. When he was a young man,
just beginning law, he had a friend who was a
Methodist exhorter. Mr.'Polk promised him, in
one of their talks on ‘religion, if he were ever
bbptized, he should baptize him. But, as he
grew up and entered into public life, he became
atachod to the Presbyterian Church; but when
he was on his sick bed, though his wife and
mother, who, I believe wjre Presbyterians, re
quested Jiim to receive baptism, true to bis old
time promise, he sent for his Methodist friend,
now become a prominent and leading man in
the Methodist communion—and received bap
tism at his hands."
“T(iat was very odd, for tilings to come
about so,” observed Tim, with looks of grave in
terest and respect.
“ Yes, young man, yes! It shows Col. Polk
AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, MARCH 31, 1860.
was a consistent man. lie died very hard.
From nine o’clock in the forenoon till four in the
afternoon he lay dying, his heavy stentorian
breathing heard out in the halL It was beauti
ful, madam, to see his rcuorable mother bend
ing over him, hour after hour, with clasped
hands iu silent prayer, for God to give him a
peaceful and painless departure. I went in,
sir, to see him. A little lad of thirteen, the son
of a literary gentleman who resided in tho ad
jacent house, was staudrag by him, fanning the
flies from his face. Tho boy was, at the mo
ment, alone with the dying chief, for the ladies
retired as I entered. As I stood, contemplating
the quiet and solemn scene, 1 oould not but re
flect upon what had passed: how he who lay
there with that, little boy standing by him, per
forming the little service of fanning, had ruled
one of the four greatest nations of the earth ;
how his name, elevated on the standard “Polk
and Dallas,'’ had been shouted by the voices of
thousands and millions of freemen I how his fame
had been borne by the Americai flag from sea
to sea, and from the rivers to <ie ends of the
earth!_how, in the gift of that pale cold hand,
now so motionless, had been tvrenty-ttvo thou
sand offices, by which as wary families got
bread! how his voice controlled Senates, and
made war or peace! how the armies in Mexico
were moved by his will, and that his was the
master spirit which led to the ronquest of the
land of the Montezumasl When, sir, I
! recalled all this, I could not but sigh for the end
i of human ambition! Here,, tIiMJ, I said, is the
goal of the glory of man l Forthia oold crown
of death, life is spent in warfare and toil! The
great arena of the world at last shrinks to a four
walled chamber J/ko this! and, for (he millions
who shouted at his chariot wheels, and tho
, thousands whose fate hung upon his nod, here
stands by la's unconscious side only a child,
with a face of awe, gently and tenderly fanning
his broad brow, which is rapidly becoming mar
ble, ere it shall by and by crumble to dust. The
echoes of the trumpet of fame penetrate not this
chamber, nor fall upon these dull ears! The
rallying cry of bis name, which a thousand jour
nals affiied at the head of their columns, disturbs
him notl The voice of the wliole nation con
centrated in one, might sljout in his ear “James
K. Polk," and he would not hear! The peal of
the trumpet of ambition he will hear no morel
Those marbling errs shall hear no more, until
the trumpet of the angel of the resurrection
shall bid him “ come up higher." Those flxed
lips shall move no more, to say “yes" or “no”
to the humblo petitions for place and office. He
still breathes, but his spirit has taken leave of
earth and all things beneath the sun. The breast
stillheaves with life, but it is only the undula
tions of the stormy sea after the winds arc hush
ed ! The storm of life is past with him who
once rode its highest waves, and soon he will be
borne by them into the haven of rest. »
“Such, my friends,” said the interesting stran
ger, “ were my reflections as I stood by the bed
sido of that great man! But I fear I have in
truded too long upou you. Good evening,
madame!”
Before I could assure him that we were
pleased with his company, he had bowed and
left us.
“ Shall I go after the old fellow, Poyns, and
bring him back ?’’ cried Tim, preparing to suit the
action to the word.
“No; we may meet him again,” I answered,
smiling at his rare enthusiasm.
We now decided to extend our walk to the
Presidential mansion, which was but two blocks
from the Capitol. We soon came in front of it
In the lawn, with here and there a cedar tree
growing therein, we saw, not thirty yards from
the columned facade, a tomb of the native mar
ble, or limestone, in the fashion of a peristyle,
and similar to that over the grave of General
Jackson at the Hermitage. Beneath the floor
of this funeral portico repose the remains of
President Polk. It is a double tomb, and in
erecting it for his mausoleum, he had constructed
a sarcophagus within, also, for his wife 1 How
eloquently must that empty space speak to the
living who waits! Tho tomb is so near the
side-walk that we could read the inscription
without entering the grounds, which are strictly
private.
Madame Polk resides there in dignified seclu
sion, loved and honored by all who know her,
respected by all who have knowledge of hor
many virtues. Every yoai the Legislature, in
full congress, wait upon her to pay its homage
to her worth and high position. Is not this
beautiful procedure as creditable to their Legis
lative body as honorable to her? There remains
a.sort of halo of history about the brows of the
widows of our Presidents, from the days of Lady
Washington to the present. For one to marry
would be regarded by all Americans as a sort of
national sacrilege! The country delights to do
them honor! Ex-Presidents retain far loss of
tho splendor of their former dignified positions
than the widows of Presidents. To what p
this owing? Is tho cause referable to the in
stinctive courtesy of the American people to
wards woman ?
The socioty of Nashville is widely celebrated
for its grace and refinement, and for the extreme
loveliness of the ladios. Rumor has not over
shot the mark. The streets are brilliant with
> bright eyes at tlte evening hour, when tlto sun
i is near the horizon. I never beheld such bevies
• of beautiful girls! They are so graceful aud
walk so well, and seem to be so conscious that
“ they are made but a little lower than the an
i gels,” as the Major expressed it, who. by the
way, has seen so many beautiful widows (vide
i licet, demi-mourning dames with hopeful eyes,
killing as they go,) that lie is thoroughly crazed
i to decide between the widow and the score of
equally beautiful ones that go flashiug by him
\ every five minutes, perfectly turning his brain.
“Bless my soul, Poyns," he exclaimed, our
first day here, as a joyous belle went skimming
past, “I wish I had a dozen hearts, or was a
dozen myselfs! What a waste of beauty, when
! a poor fellow can catch but one in a lifetime!
Dear mo! Now in a flower garden, a man can
make up a bouqnet o’ flowers; but bouquets o’
young widows won’t do in A meriea—only among
i the Turks!”
i “Ah, Major, - ’ said I, “ you are h tickle old fel
low, I see! I shall report you at headquar
ters!”
"If thou lovest me, Poyns,’’ said the Major,
deprecatingly. “ This is only a little oscillation
of the noedle! Onoe out o’ Nashville, ray heart
i will come round to the polar star that sparkles
doubled in the widow’s eye. I pity these Nash
ville cavaliers 1 Among ao many beauties, they
can never make up their minds to choose. I
. cpuldu’t. I have seen five superb creatures,
i since we came round past the Pont Office, and I
could be perfectly happy with either!”
*Ali, Major,” I safa, shaking my head. “ I
fear you are an unmitigated wretch 1 I shall
feel it my duty to put the unsuspecting widow
on her guard I”
“ Don’t Poyns,” lie exclaimed; “ she has sixty
Ethiops, and a thousand arpents in sugar cane.
Everything is going on smoothly. She haa half
promised me. If it wasn’t for Tim, who’s get
ting to be a tremendous favorite with all tbe
pretty women, (and I believe the widow likes
hip,) if it wasn’t for that young scoundrel, all
would have gone right. Thoro is but one Ob
jection 1” he added, with a eomicoserious glance
at me.
“ What is that ?” I asked.
" “ That lam bald, and my whiskers are gray 1
But do you know that a lady in the parlor at
the St. Cloud, when I went there to call on the
widow to invite her to walk, on seeing me, said
nloud, ‘ How much that gentleman looks like the
likeness of the Emperor of Russia I saw in a
store in New York.’ Hear that, Poyns 1 The
Emperor is bald, they say 1 But the widow is
inexorable. In spite of Alexander’s bald pate,
I have bought a wig here!”
“I am rejoiced to hear it,” I continued,
comfortable, if no more.”
The next day we were driven by kind friends
to tho Insane Asylum, six miles from the city;
to the Penitentiary and to the Hermitage, twelve
miles. There is a sad feeling as one contem
plates the last abode of the immortal Jackson.
The Hermitage is a very attractive rural spot,
but the mansion is not very striking in appear
ance, for Jackson’s architectural tastes were
very humble, as was likely to be the ease with
a man whose childhood and early mauhood had
been passed in log cabins, and whose own resi
dence, for years after he had won his laurels in
New Orleans, was an humble abode, now stand
ing as one of the out-houses -of the present
residence of Andrew Jackson, Esq., his adopted
son. This gentleman is not related to General
Jackson by blood, but to his wife, and adopted
as a son, and the heir to his name and estate.
We did not have the pleasure of seeing him.
We visite'd the tomb, which is surmounted by a
peristyle portico, where rests the Warrior and his
worthy wife, so loved and honored by his manly*
heart. The proposal to remove his remains and
' deposit them in a vault beneath the magnificent
marble Capitol on Mars’ Hill, m Nashville, meets
with disapproval by Mr. Jackson. I understand
the question of exhumation and re-interment
i will come up before the Legislature this winter,
i With the public the idea is popular; but witli
Mr. Jackson in his opposition, all persons of
good taste and propriety will coincide. Already
tho Capitol has tbe body of “ Strickland,” the
architect, entombed within it in a niche the am
bitious architect himself constructed, and in
• which he bargained with the State that be
i should bo buried I There let the ambitious- ar
i tist rest 1 The noble monument of his genius is
i a fit mausoleum for his manes 1 Wherefore
place the ‘ Hero of his Age’ by his aide? Which
i of the two is to inaugurate the pile and give it
> glory? Whose monument shall it be of the
two?
r No, no! Nashville has already one President
F sleeping, in marble immortality, within her
> bosom 1 Let the heroic'Warrior of the West
f rest amid the scenes he loved, uuderneath the
i trees iiis own hand planted, where the flowers
i bloom which his wife tended, and where his
■ genius and name have throwji the mantle of his
- tory around all 1 Let the Hermitage, where he
dwelt living, be his dwelling-place, dead! Let
1 I it illustrate, by its simple grandeur, the power
aI of man to immortalize places on earth 1 Let
- * him sleep there, amid the solitude and dignity
I Two Dollars Ter Annum, i
I Always in Advance. f
• •
of the waving forests, liimself the sole creator
of the glory of the spot, sharing this point on
the map of his country with no other 1
Great men entombed in citiee are soon forgot
ten ! Their glory is dimmed by the dust of traf
fic, and their fame ceases to bo heard amid the
roar of the wheels of commerce and the rattle of
the chariots of pleasure. The Pyramids.would
not be regarded in the midst of a metropolis.
Solitude aud space give grandeur to grand ob
jects I T<et the Hermitage be the grave of the
Hero! Let pilgrimages be made to it by the
martial youths of all coming time I Who would
remove Scott from Melrose Abbey and the scenes
he has illustrated ? Who would remove the
asitex of Washington to tho Capitol? How
much grander lay Napoleon when St Helena
was his mausoleum, than beneath the dome of
the luvalides!
We leave to-morrow, about three o'clock, iu
the ears Ibr Louisville. I shall date one more
letter fhxn this charming city, which has quite
taken us by its splendid hospitalities, and write
from Louisville. Wo are in hopes to get there
in time to take a packet up to Cincinnati, ere the
ico closes the navigation. Until then— au rt-
WASHINGTON IK VINO’S FIBBT LOVE
When young lie became intimately acquaint
ed with a daughter of one of tho Knickerbock
ers of the time, sturdy In family wealth. With
the young-lady h® pressed bis suit successfully;
and iu time-vbiUither might have succumbed,
despite thelset that he regarded the resources
with which Irving proposeu w support R wife
too Mender to maintain that style of luxury to
which bis daughter had been aocustemed. In
an evil hour, fcs it eoemed, n Dr. -Creighton, a
minister of the Presbyterian Church, despite his
Scottish parentage, fell in with the gentleman
whom Irving was desirous of making his father
in-law. The clergyman’s eyes dazzled by the
beauty of the same young lady who had won
tbfc heart of the aspiring autlwr, and the eyes of
the father were blinded to all other considera
tions by tho wealth which Dr. Creighton offer
ed, together with his heart. Time and persist?
ency pushed Irving from the scene, and
the girl, obedient -to her father’s urgent
treaties, gave his precedence of her own.—
But the saddest part of the story remains to
be told. When the question of marriage por
tion was under consideration, the father stated
that the family had been tainted with insanity;
and to guard against the evils of harsh treat
ment, should his daughter be afflicted with the
same malady, insisted that a certain sum should
be set aside, which, in the event of such a ca
lamity, should be devoted to her maintenance
on her estate on the bank of the Hudson, and
that in no event should she be removed from the
mansion there.
The terras the ardent suitor, hoping for the
best, complied with. It may have beeh the
result of hereditary disease, or of the effort to
crush out and kill her young hopes, but not
many years elapsed before the young wife was
a raving maniac. She became so violent that
confinement was rendered necessary, and the
family mansion was converted into an asylum,
Dr. Creighton building another house, on a dis
tant part of the estate. The unfortunate woman
is still living, and on quiet nights her shrieks
may bo heani, audible too, at the secluded re
treat which Irving occupied. No heart but
his own knows how much the sad event may
have tinged his own life, or to what exertions
it may have urged him in attempting to drown
all remembrances of his disappointment.
Dr. Creighton has for years officiated at the
humble chapel where Irving worshiped—and.
singular enough, read the burial service for his
former rival. To tlioso who were aware of these
mournful circumstances, the strange coincidence
must have been exceedingly painful. There are
but few portraits or busts of Mr. Irving in exist
ence, as he has, especially of late years, persist
ently refused to place himself at the disposal of
any artist, however celebrated.
-
Fate of Poets.— Homer was a beggar; Plau
tus turned a mill: Terence was a slave; Boethi
us died in jail; Tasso was often distressed for a
few shillings; Cervantes died of hunger; Cam
cens, the writer of the “ Lusiad," ended his days
in an almhouse: Spencer died in want; Milton
sold his copyright of “ Paradise Lost ” for £ls,
and died in obscurity; Dryden lived in poverty
and distress; Otway perished of huuger; Lee
died in the streets; Steele was in perpetual
warfare with the bailiffs; Goldsmith’s “Vicarof
Wakefield ” was sold for a trifle, to save him
from the grasp of the law.
A fixe edition of the Greek Septuagint has
been published by the society for the Promotion
of Christian Knowledge. (Edited by Prof. Field
of Trinity College, Cambridge.) Though prima
rily intended for circulation among the Eastern
churches, it furnishes to students what was
greatly wanted, a critical and beautiful text of
this most ancient version, conformed to the or
der of the Hebrew priginal.
NO. 45.