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Southern Field and Fireside.
VOL. 1.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
FROM A TOURIST’S QUIVER;
OE,
Scenes and Incidents of a Tour
From New Orleans to New Yorli.
BY O.YE OF TUK PAIiTY,
, ARROW XIV.
Nashville a literary city—Mr. Poyns’ views of aristocracy
in general, and o's American aristocracy in particular*
—-The admirable public schools of Nashville —The Ma
jor discovers in their history further proof of the in
gratitude of republics—The Penitentiary—the Insane
Asylum, a noble fruit of the exertions of Miss Dix—
improved treatment of the insane—these “ God's Or
phans” are now humanely and intelligently provided
for almost every where—well regulated asylums the
best retreats for these unfortunates—their cure is there
quite probable—none should, from pride or ill-advised
affection, refuse to send afflicted friends to them—they
afford all accomodation for comfort and luxury, with
the best medloal aid—a thrilling incident—strangers
should not venture among the insane even with the
keeper—First appearance of the wig— its effect—the
Major's disappointment—what he did —Scene in the
library of the Capitol —the Major's despair—the wi
dow’s kindness—tne Major's recovery and happiness—
the party leave Nashville.
NasnyiLLE, Tenn., Dec. Is, '59.
We are still lingering in this metropolis,
which has peculiar attractions for a stranger
whose passports into its host society are en regie.
Without marked literary men, there is a high lit
erary tone among the citizens, as their numer
ous and well selected book-stores prove to the
passing eye. I have met but one authoress here,
who unites in her veins the aristocratic blood of
the Middletons and Rutledges of South Carolina,
being the grand daughter, on both sides, of
each! Truly this is par cxcelletice American aris
tocracy ; for our revoluiionary heroes, the states
men, philosophers, warriors of that period, and
the “signers of the Declaration of Independence"
became founders of families, as of old the Nor
man leaders laid the foundation of the noble and
titled houses of England 1 Don’t say we can have
no aristocracy in America, and despise it I It is
not the case! A decidod elite is forming in every
State, and the F. F.’s are the acknowledged so
cial centres!
Our aristocracy, too, is a military one, like
that of the old Norman conquerors! Nearly all
our old F. F.’s date from revolutionary heroes.
West Point is a school of Aristocracy not inferi
or in purpose to the Imperial school of nobles in
Russia.
In the late list of Cadets chosen at large, every
one of them was selected for the services and
rank of his ancestors! Ido not object to this.
It is right that the virtues and glories of an
honorable father shall be rewarded by the State
in the son! There is a prestige in distinguished
descent, that makes its mark nobly upon the
heritor thereof. I believe in blood! It will tell!
There is necessary a certain family pride to
complete the proper gentleman. The associa
tions of the past must be not only sane reproche,
but elevated! It takes two or three generations to
make a thorough-bred gentleman! as many to
degrade him to the vulgar level. We are get
ting to be a,nation of gentlemen since the revo
lution! There are more well-bred men among us
than in any other nation, compared with the
population, and eke, more ill-bred men. But
aristocracy is the growth of republics, and in a
hundred years hence the lines of demarkation
between upper and lower classes will be more
positive than those which now divide the lords
from the ooromoners! The spirit of English “ex
clusiveness of family" is already at work among
us! All our fashionable watering-places illus
trate this spirit. Certain families lead, and lead
because they have historic names. Madame Le
Vert’s genius and fascinating manners and liter
ary success combined would not give her the
undisputed high social rank as a “leader," were
she not the daughter of a Governor of Florida
and grand-dnughter of a “signer of the Declara
tion of Independence." I heard a very wealthy
lady, of groat beauty say, “ I would lather to
have’descended from a distinguished revolution
ary family and be worth one half less than I am."
She was right. And what is more, this aris
tocracy, which “came in" with the “Declara
tion,” is recognized abroad; especially does it
confer marked distinction in France and Eng
land!
A healthy aristocracy, well founded and for
tified by culture, refinement, Intellect, and all
the thorough-bred amenities, is a good thing for
a country, as a mere monied one Is a bad thing.
Literary aristocracy,. I am sorry to say, is at a
low figure with us. I don’t know how it is, but
a literary man or woman is not regarded so
much as a peer in high society, as a guest whose
true social status embarrasses the host. The
claims of literature are not fully admitted, as in
England, where eminent literary men and wo
-rif the “Arrows’’ were published ovor the name of
their distinguished author, no disclaimer would be ne
cessary In order to prevent the literary editor from be
ing supposed to concur with his correspondent in his re
marks upon “ American aristocracy." But, being pub
lished anonymously, it might be inferred by some that
the editor adopts as his own, and end orses his contribu
tor's views. The remarks must pass for what they are
worth, as expressing the opinions of “ Mr. Poyns" alone.
I J A IVES GARDNER, I
1 Proprietor. j
men take rank with the nobles. Literature, as
a pursuit, in this practical country, is not re
spected. A literary woman is regarded rather
as a curiosity than as an equal, by our high
fashionables. A mere literary woman has no
caste. She must have something more than
genius and talent and authorship; she.must,
like Madame LeV , and a very few others
I can name, preface to her fame ‘ family.’ Mere
literary success will elevate no huirible person in
America to the peerage of Upper Ten. Burns,
Allan, Cunningham, the stars of this galaxy,
would never have been recognized by the F.F.’s
in America, as they were by the Lords and
Ladies of Great Britain. Inconsistent as it may
seem in a republic, yet to say, in America, that
any presently distinguished person is of low
origin, is to lower them at once in the estimation
of their admirers. There are no people who so
desire to be thought to have had grandfathers as
the Americans. But all this will correct itself
by and by.
The lady of whom I spoke as descended from
Arthur Middleton and John Rutledge, is an
authoress of marked talent, and an honor to her
State. She has published a geograpy which
ought to be received into all our Southern
schools; and is the writer of many valuable
moral' works for the young. As the ac
complished Vice-regent of the Society for pur
chasing Mount Vernon, she has achieved a won
derful success; for no one can refuse donations
to a petitioner who knows how to ask a favor
with more grace than most persons know to
grant it. The literary men of Nashville are
chiefly in the editorial chair, and like most of
our educated editors, evince talents that, wero
they turned to “ye making-of bookes,” would
• achieve for them high literary fame; but editor’s
gems seldom reach the dignity of a “setting,”
and “ perish with the using.’’
The Public Schools of the city are its
most illustrious monument. It would be
time well given to describe our visit to them;
but I mean at some other time to do so. Let
me here say that the system is perfect, and works
with a precision and effect which achieves the
highest results which Public School education
can ever hope to attain. The edifices are the
handsomest and most imposing structure* in
the city, the Citadel excepted. Good taste,
money judiciously applied, and unity of action
in the managers, have contributed to give to
Nashville an institutiou free to all her children, j
that a monarch might envy for his own do
minions. It is the pride and boast of the people,
and all strangers have to visit them and the
two thousand happy pupils, as “one of the lions"
of the city. Yet, when I inquired who origi
nated these noble schools, for all great projects
originateiin some one mind, they could not tell
me.
“ I suppose," said the Major, to our compa
nion, “it must have been a Mr. Hinds, for his
name is given to one of these palace-.ike ed
ifices.”
“ Oh, no, he gave love only,” was the reply.
“The other edifice is named the ‘Hume’s
Hall,’ possibly it was he,” observed the widow,
who was of our party.
“ No. He was its first Superintendent,” was
the response.
“It is very odd that the name of the founder
'and originator of so noble a public institution, is
forgotten,” observed a gentleman from Georgia,
who was with us; for it is but ten years since it
was started.”
“But that is the case always,” responded the
Major, with a sort of indignant emphasis; “re
publics were ever ungrateful; men live on and
enjoy what others have done!”
From the schools we visited the Military Col
lege, which promises to be a nursery for future
heroes. Our visit to the Penitentiary I have not
spoken of. It was both gratifying and painful.
The officers were very courteous. We were
shown the cell where Murrel, the famous
land pirate, was confined; also the grave of Dil
lingham, the famous Quaker martyr,whose story
created such, attention ten years ago.
One-third of the prisoners cannot read. Igno
rance is the Darent of vice in a civilized commu
nity. I was'told that a former chaplain taught
sixty-four grown men to read in four months, by
a very ingenious aDd successful plan. The cells
of the prison are worthy of Austrian rule. They
are too small, unventilated, and either perish
ingly cold in winter, or insufferably hot in sum
mer. The prisouers thus have torture added
to their judicial sentence, which the majesty and
justice of the law do not 'contemplate. When
the law says “ imprisonment and hard labor”
shall be the penalty of a certain offence, it con
templates a moderate state of comfort for the
body df the convict; it intends he shall sleep
all night, and eat good food, and have warm
bedding. Now, if he ean not sleep for the heat
or the cold, on account of the ill-construction of
his cell, torture is added to his sentence, which
is unjust. Miss Dix, the bold and faithful,
made a severe report against the condition of
this prison, and somo feeble attempts were
made to reform where destruction and re-con
struction were demanded. -
Our visit to the Insane Asylum was deeply in
teresting Thifris a noble edifice, and interiorly
AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, APRIL 7, 1860,
all that the object for which it was erected at a
great cost, demands—eloquence, comfort, clean
liness, and security, without the appearance of
security. This institution is the fruit of the vis
it of Miss Dix to Nashville in 1849, and her ap
peals to the Legislature. Asylums for the insane
are the results of Christianity I The heathen
world, not Greece nor Rome,with all their culti
vation ; nor Egypt nor Persia, with all the cost
liness of their palaces and temples, erected no
asylum for the lunatic. Even among the Jews,
“ who were not without God," the insane were
suffered to wander by the highway, or‘herd to
gether with the wild beasts amid the ruined se
pulchres outside of the city. Humanity in all
ages and among all people fell short of Chris
tianity, which calls for love and kindness from
man to his fellow-man, and demands protection
for the helpless and unfortunate. Even in some
Catholic nations of Europe, the insane are to
this day herded with convicts. In this country
the separation is not of many years date. But
now every State lias its asylum for the insane;
not places merely of detention and security, but
pleasant homes where the patient receives the
most gentle treatment, and where the religion
of Jesus and man's humanity combine to restore
the wandering intellect and bind up the fractur
ed vase.
The day is past when “ crazy people ” were
made the sport of boys on the street, and even
Christiau people held them in no better light
than they did the drunkard. Tho day is past,
bless God, when insanity was spoken of jesting
ly or sneeringly, or with idle laughter, and the
poor, crazed soul troated with levity or contempt
Low sunk in ignorance and brutality must the
person be, who can, in this enlightened day.
speak of lunacy save with irwe and pity, ana
profoundest sympathy for the unhappy one I In
sanity is the greatest mystery of life I There is
-something fearful in the contemplation of its
phases, sublimity in its manifesfttions.
The insane are now, by all right-minded peo
ple, looked upon as ‘God’s orphans,' as an old
Christian minister beautifully termod theml—
They are regarded with pity and tenderness 1
They are looked upon with the kindest consider
ation. Once it was regarded as a family dis
grace to have an Insane member in it, and the
household kept the sufferer chained and hid
away, and isolated, to gnaw its nails and howl
like "a wild beast. I remember, when a lad.soe
j ing a lunatic kept in a cage. His long, tangled
black and gray hair, his wild, fiery eyes, his
fierce countenance always inflamed with rage,
and his dreadful howls, I shall never forget.
Boys were allowed to thrust sticks in at him to
goad him to madness; and nono had human
Feeling in those days enough for their fellow-men
«under God’s dark hand ’ to rebuke them. Times
have changed. This could not be now, in this
day. The world understands insanity to be a
disease like other diseases, and that inflicts no
more disgrace upon the sufferer than fever, or
small-pox, or any other infirmity. People, in
stead of chaining the sufferer, send him to the
physician, as not a madman, but as ( gentler
word) a patient The States erect grand and
magnificent palaces to receive them; provides
for them the best physicians in the world, the
most careful and tender nurses, the pleasantest
-rooms, the most comfortable beds, books, pic
tures, music, excellent food,carriages for driving
out, and all other means to tempt, allure, win,
bring back the affrighted soul to its throne in
the darkened brain, and restore again, to human
ity. a brother that was lost!
The result of all this benevolence and god,like
care for the unfortunate insane is, that 78 out of
every 100 in all the institutions of the Union,
are returned to their homes and the bosoms of
their friends perfectly restored,first to health and
then to a right mind; for the loss of reason is
caused always by the loss of health.
The respectability of the gentlemen who con
trol the asylum, the profound skill and experi
ence of the physicians, (who are selected from
the best in the nation, as no branch of medical
practice calls for such eminent qualities in a
physician as that of superintending an asylum
for the insane), lead all persons of She highest
rank and greatest wealth to commit their friends
who are afflicted to their care.
There is nothing more antagonistic to ulti
mate recovery as the censurable custom (now
less observed than hitherto) of keeping the in
sane at home, trying to cure them. The moment
insanity manifests itself in the dearest and most
loved one of our hearts, our imperative duty is
to remove the sufferer to an asylum, without de
lay ; for insanity proceeds from ill-health, and
this can be restored in conjunction with the
mind nowhere but under the peculiar, tender,
gentle, practical system which obtains at an
asylunv The superintendent informed me that
nearly all cases could be cured, if friends would
not keep them at home in vain hope of their
getting better. Some silly people refuse to let
their friends go to on asylum, saying ft is ‘cruel/
or it isn't respectable, or it looks so unfeeling,
and so forth. It is. on the contrary, unfeeling
to keep them at home. Sensible people will
suffer no delay, but place the sufferer at once
where a cure can be begun and effected, which
it can never be in private at home. Moreover,
the presence of the loved aggravates insanity,
and a cure can be affected only among strangers.
The most delicate lady will find a luxurious
home at some of the asylums; certainly at this
at Nashville, at that in Rhode Island, at the
elegant Private Asylum at Somerville, near Bos
ton, (the most complete establishment in the
world) under tho charge of Dr. Bell, one of the
most eminent physicians in this speciality, and
at others. At Dr. Bell’s the wealthy patients,
by paying for the suite of rooms,can be surround
ed with all the elegances of the opulent home
they have left.
. As insanity is not, in this agg, an infamy, bnt
a misfortune, calling for peculiar tenderness and
skill of management, as any one of us is liable,
to lose his reason, let us henceforth banish from
our minds the exploded notions about it. Let us
treat with proper scorn all who with levity and
want of delicacy called those sacred orphans of
Clod “ crazy people” or “ madmen," but speak of
them with sympathy, and let us think no worse
of any who have been restored to reason in
Asylums and once more mingle‘witli us, but ex
tend to them more than usual confidence and
respect. Because a porson has been once in
sane, is no reason he should becomo so again;
on the contrary, there is less danger of his
losing bis reason than other persons.
Some of the State Asylums are not such as
they ought to be. Too much money cannot bo
expended on these noble institutions for the
comfort and health and happiness of the patients.
They should have cheerful objects around them,
pleasant pictures, books, pianos, guitars, bowling
and billiards, back gammon and chess, and every
thing to promote health of body and cheerful
ness of mind.
I visited, three years ago, the Tnsane Asylum
at Jackson, Miss., not then so complete and
thoroughly organized as now. The gentleman
who escorted me around was so imprudent as to
take me into a common hall, where a score of
men were, whose rooms opened into it, and of
different degrees of insanity. As he entered, he
locked the door behind him. The poor lunatics,
men from the humblest class of life, at once be
came noisy and gathered about us, some making
faces, some barking, some mowing and sawing
the air, some dancing, and others crowing like
a cock, or howling. I stood appalled. I felt
that I was in a den of wild beasts; that the
least exhibition of fear would be my destruction.
The keeper called sternly and bade them fall
back. They only fell in behind us and followed
us about the room, a fearful train I I felt them
mouthing close to my shoulder! A wild visage
peeped round close to my cheek and I felt Jus
hot breath. I dared not look round, lest my
look should show apprehension. I whispered to
tho guide, “ are we pot in peril here ?” Ho an
swered, in the same tone, “ we will get out ns
quietly as we can. They are more unruly and
ugly than usual! Be firm I”
And firm I was; but it was with much “ fear
and doubt", for I knew that the least sign of
alarm would be the signal for an attack, and
that we should be torn in pieces as if by wolves.
At length the appalling round of the apartment
was made and we stood by the door. Tho ex
citement of the inmates now visibly grew, aud
two of them looked resolved to spring upon us,
when the keeper adroitly unlocked the door,
called to me to spring through it, and following
himself at a bound, he placed it between ns and
the imminent danger to which we had been ex
posed.
Without doubt, it is imprudent for a stranger
to venture with a keeper into such an assembly.
They may endure his presence and fear him,
when they would render another person’s situa
tion anything but safe or agreeable. lam not
without nerve, but nothing would induce me to
venture a second time into a room-with a score
of lunatics with no other protection than ‘nerve’
and ‘the eye’ of the keeper.
There is in Nashville, a few minutes walk
from the Public Square, in which is a very noble
new Court House, a sulphur spring, celebrated
for the salubrity of its waters. It is the morn
ing and evening resort of the citizens who
throng, in summer, the romantic pathway that
leads to it. This is the old “French Lick,” and
the original site of Nashville, the first settlers of
which were French Canadians.
I was not aware, until to-day, that Burr here
had a temporary camp, and that he fitted out
from this place a part of the flotilla with which
he intended to take New Orleans —which was
captured, with liis own person, near Natchez.
In a few hours we take leave of this beautiful
and hospitable city. The Major has just inform
ed me, with great joy, that the widow and her
brother are to travel with us. And here let me
mention an accident which befel the Major yes
terday. I have already said he went to the
barber’s tp prepare his toilet, in order suitably
to do honor to the beauty of the widow, whom
he was to accompany to the Capitol. It was
my privilege to be invited also, and for this pur
pose I went to tlio St. Cloud, in the parlor of
which the fair lady was waiting with her bonnet
on, for her cavalier, and singing the while to
Tim, in whose bosom her charming voice has
enkindled a passion for music, so that he perse
cutes her to sing constantly for him.
( Two Dollar* Per Annum, I
t Alw»)» la Advance. f
the door opened, and in. walked a stout gentle
man bowing and smiling very much, in the man
ner of my remote relative the Major, and ap
proaching her.
The widow stared with her great handsome
eyes, but betrayed no knowledge of the gentle
man. Tim looked amazement personified,
struck speechless, for he recognized the rotund
abdomen and rubicund nose of his uncle.
“ Bless me! why, how d’ye do ? Don’t know
me, I see, widow ?’’ and a veryJow and satisfied
bow from the Major, who, in a killing, dirk
brown curly wig, and his whiskers died a fierce
tblack, kept gesticulating continually before her,
his hat in his yellow-gloved hand, and shining
rivulets of smiles running over his bright face.
11 Mer- cyl Is it you, Major Bedott?” exclaim
ed the widow. “ How young and handsome
you have grown I What a change! Really,
you have taken me quite by surprise I” •
“All for you, dear raadame!” said the fiercely -
whiskered and curled Major, laying his fat hand
sentimentally upon his hoart. "For your sake
I would paint myself black and be your most
humble slave!" ' ,
**oh, Major—oh, please don’t!" pried the
widow, laughing loud and merrily. “But you
look bo young, dear me! I really must place
myself under the protection of your graver-look
ing nephew for this week. I engaged to go with
a bald-headed, quiet gentleman, but I never
bargained for such a dangerous beau cavalier.
Excuse me, Major. I prefer old Major Bedott
to this gentleman who calls himself thus. Ex
cuse roe, Major. Tiro, give roe your arm 1"
“Why, madam, I—. Bless my soul! She’s
off with •Tiro! Poyns, see what comes of trust
ing a widow 1"
have owwebot the mark, *>y deer al
low t You have rejuvenlzed too fhrt She
thinks you look younger than Tim I”
“Yes, with his whity hair and lank figure, he
might pass for sixty, confound him I I’M "
I took the Majors arm. But he withdrew be
tween grief and indignation combined, hastened
to Frank Parrish, the Egyptian barber’s, re
moved his wig, and then hastened to his room,
desperately, to wash the dye off with pearl-ash
and water, a prescription he had heard of. In
fifteen minutes he joined me, and I compliment
ed him on his recovery of himself. His whis
kers had, however, a very slight bluish tinge,
but I made no remark. We ascended the Capi
tol bill, and after walking twice through the
vast building, we came upon Tim and the
widow in the library, looking at birds over one
book.
“Now, my dear madam# 1” exclaimed the Ma
jor, with gratified emphasis, “ allow me to intro
duce your old friend, Major Bedott I”
The widow looked up, glanced at him, clap
ped her jewelled hands, and made the arches of
the hall ring as if all the singing birds in Au
dubon’s folio had come to life and commenced a
merry song. Such laughter! I started amazed,
for Tim soon set up a succession of shrieks of re
sistless laughter. The Major stood appalled I
What had he done t I looked at him, and lo I
his whiskers were a brilliant sky-blue color!
The atmosphere had acted chemically upon the
compounds he had used, and behold the issue I
A third peal of laughter mingled with Tim’s
and tho widow’s, while the Major’s visage be
came darker than night. Tim had a mirror in
tho top of his hat. I took it and showed the
Major his face! It was enough I He looked
suicidal! The widow read despair "and felo-de
se in his eyesl Like a good angel, she laid her
white hand on his wrist, whispered a few low
words of sympathy and comfort, smiled irresist
ibly on the poor man, broke his heart into forty
pieces, and -brought tears of gratitude into his
eyes. What is more, she put her arm through
the Major’s and told Tim to take care of himself,
for she was goiag to see the Major home.
The happy Major moved away, concealing his
blue whiskers with the widow’s kerchief, which
sho, like a good angel, loaned him, and repeated
as he went, these words :
“Oh woman, In our hours of case,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please;
But when misfortunes cloud the brow,
A ministering angel thou."
We take our departure in a few miuutee. The
omnibus is at the door for our bodies and our
baggages. The widow’s trunk, which Tim calls
her bureau , is already in the grasp of four men ;
on its way to the baggage wagon. Au revoir
One of the British Publishing Societies has
just published a “ Narrative of a Voyage to the
West Indies and Mexico in the years 1599-1602.
By Samnel Champlain." The work is printed
from the original and unpublished manuscript
discovered by Mr. Puybusque at Dieppe, and of
which a copy was in the possession of the late
Jacques Viger of Montreal. It is curious to find,
two hundred and fifty years ago, the project of
a junction between the Atlantic and Pacific en
tertained. Champlain founded tho city of
bee, and merited the title of “ Father of New
France.’’ His memory survives in America in
the name of the beautiful lake he discovered
here in ICO9, and wbice now divides the States
of New York and Vermont. The outlet of Lake
Champlain was named “ Richelieu River,” in
honor of the great French Cardinal.
#
NO. 46.