In the evenings, the best shops, restaurants and theatres were lighted up with the new gaslight, and Mrs. Elton was delighted to see that every good private house seemed to have its own block of ice, quite as in the fashionable regions of London, making the most elegant entertainment possible; so that the butter on the dinner-tables was not mere loose grease, but formed into pretty patties, set in moulds, and decorated with green ferns.
Especially popular were great public establishments such as the oyster-palaces, where quantities of the fresh molluscs were swallowed, by clusters of men and women and children reaching out for them as fast as they could be handed over. The range of amusements possible in New York was positively dazzling; and most diverting of all was the street-dancing performed by troupes of black dancers, a form of entertainment that was entirely new to the visitors, who were bewitched by the performers' gaiety and liveliness. Some of the free blacks in New York, evidently persons of some means, were as elegantly attired as any of the white ladies of fashion, and all joined together in the promenade on Broadway, with perfect amity. It was true that, as always, there were neighbourhoods where the most sordid poverty prevailed; and the two ministerial couples examined many such regions during their sojourn, as was their duty. Despite these sobering glimpses, upon the whole the impressions of New York that they took away were of swirling excitement. They were sorry to depart, and long remembered what they had seen.
Two ferries and two coaches were necessary to bring the party as far as Philadelphia; in the boats, the male passengers amused themselves by chewing tobacco and spitting liberally all over the deck, and Mrs. Elton spent the entire journey holding her skirts and her children away from the expectorations, with an indescribably pained expression.
Their visit here was a short one, only long enough for them to discern that Philadelphia was another fine city, rapidly building, although decidedly less refined than Boston, and less lively than New York. In the evenings, the city was entirely dark; there were none of the modern gas-lamps that prevailed elsewhere, and all was as shut and as silent as midnight at Highbury, which the visitors thought surprising, considering the city's substantial size. As they were in Philadelphia over Sunday, services were attended at the principal Episcopalian church of the place; the party was given a kind welcome by the clergyman, Rev. Harding and his family, with whom they stayed for several days, and were introduced into their social circle. From these encounters, Mrs. Elton concluded that religion was given a far more prominent place in the lives of the Philadelphians than at New York, or than was the case at home, where worship every Sunday, and attention to the needs of their parishioners, still did not take up so much time and thought as even unclerical ladies seemed to spend on their churchly concerns in this American city.
Services were long, and although Rev. Harding was a genial man, kind and thoughtful in his own family circle, Mrs. Elton could not admire his ponderous sermon, and secretly contrasted it to her husband's sensible, well-spoken ones; nor did she care for the way that silence and sobriety were strictly enforced by law all day long on Sunday. Even the streets had chains slung across them to discourage carriage driving, and there were none of the parties and gaieties such as the Eltons had enjoyed in other places.
Their hostess Mrs. Harding was a precise, tidily dressed person, in her steel-grey satin and lace cap, who ruled her plain but handsome household and her numerous daughters with kindly severity. Her house was one of solid comfort, if not luxury, with well-trained and well-treated, free black servants, so that she was left with little to do in the way of domestic work; but the ordering of the household, and of her daughters, and her church work, occupied her time very fully. Mrs. Elton and Mrs. Benson joined Mrs. Harding at the meeting of her sewing-circle, where a dozen ladies diligently sewed garments for the poor, and listened to readings about the foreign missions.
Despite her real, if somewhat officious, wish to do good, and to support her husband's missionary endeavours, Mrs. Elton felt that the praiseworthy activity of this large ministerial household was more confined and less varied even than life in such a quiet little place as her own home village. After the second evening, in which she saw that husbands and wives were always kept quite separate, and the conversation seemed limited to not very acute, rote criticisms of the second preacher's afternoon sermon, Mrs. Elton felt an imperative desire to speak.
"Do you not have any other form of evening entertainment?" she inquired somewhat abruptly. "The theatre, or card parties? Dances, balls?"
Before she finished speaking, Mrs. Harding and her sister, Miss Fuller, exchanged pained glances.
"Mrs. Elton, you are new to our great country," said her hostess in a tone of patient politeness, "and do not perhaps realize that things that are done in old England, may not quite conform with what are accepted customs here. The theatre, and cards, and things of that sort, we consider to be really not quite nice; certainly not acceptable in a clergyman's family."
"And for my part," put in Miss Fuller, "I vastly prefer a quiet evening sewing, and having improving talk with my sister, and my nieces. It is so much nicer, and more proper, than listening to the worldly talk of gentlemen, which we could not be expected to understand, and is hardly fit for our ears."
"Do they have many balls in England, in the place you come from?" asked a young Miss Harding in tentative tones.
Mrs. Elton brightened. "To be sure we do. There are very grand balls in society, in London; but even in our little village, there are dances that occur quite impromptu, every fortnight or so, with twelve or fourteen couple. Even though growing quite an old married woman, I still do enjoy a turn, I own."
"You actually - dance, yourself?" asked Mrs. Harding, clearly shocked. "You don't mean it?"
"Why, yes, certainly, from time to time, I do; we do not consider it so wicked as you seem to do."
"Rapidly moving bodies can only lead to one thing," pronounced the dame firmly, and turned the subject to a mission to New Zealand that was then outfitting.
Mrs. Elton was not particularly sorry to leave Philadelphia, and her impressions of Washington were not something to make a figure in history. The English travellers were impressed by the Capitol, which they esteemed a most beautiful building, handsomely set among plantings, high up so as to command a wonderful view; and they thought the city itself well designed, on a vast and regular scheme, certain to be most impressive when completed. While visiting the seat of government, Mr. Elton made several forays to the office of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, in order to learn what he could about the people amongst whom he was soon to be working. What he told his wife made her spirit rise with indignation.
"They are always talking of their liberty, these Americans," she complained, as they were readying for the night in their Washington boarding-house, "and of how they will be tyrannized over by no king; yet not only do they permit slavery themselves, but they treat the Indian people no better than dogs."
"I believe you are right, my love; but it will be wisest not to say so before any American gentlemen, it will not quite do. They believe, you know, in Manifest Destiny and Eminent Domain, and suchlike doctrines, and so do many people in England; so you had best not mention it."
"I hope I know better than to make a scene, Mr. Elton, no lady ever would; but what do you mean by saying that we believe in Manifest Destiny in England - is that not a name invented by Mr. Monroe, and is it not just another way of saying that the white man should take everything? I am very glad that Mr. John Quincy Adams should be President now, instead; perhaps he will have more gentleman like ideas."
"Come to bed, Augusta. It is not like you to be trying to puzzle out matters that are men's business; you know it is wrong and unbecoming for women to think of public affairs, and I can only suppose you are tempted to it owing to these travels of ours - for in general, it is better for women to remain at home, and to take their ideas from their menfolk."
"Now you are sounding quite like an American, indeed," said his
wife resentfully, "that is how they talk; and you know it was never my wish to come here, though I have followed my lord and master, as is my duty. However, I cannot help but see what is before my eyes; and that I do see the things that are wrong in this country, you cannot attempt to deny."
"Of course much of what you say is right in principle; it is a great shame to take land from the Indians, and slavery is an abomination wherever it is to be found; but surely, my dear, you can see that, in the end, the white man must have everything: you would not have the dark races on top? They are hardly capable of governing themselves."
"How can they know until they are tried," began Mrs. Elton, heatedly, but her husband only said, "Hush, hush," and blew out the candle.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was in Baltimore that Mrs. Elton was first waited upon by a slave. This first experience was in no way remarkable or singular in nature; it consisted of nothing more than her knowledge that the two women waiting at table at their inn on their first night in the city were not freed women, but slaves. This was sufficient. Both Mrs. Elton and Mrs. Benson felt a rising sensation of horror as they watched the quiet movements of these two young women, who were placing the platters of herring and corn bread before the party. Unlike the movements of every person they had heretofore seen in their lives, the movements of these girls were not being undertaken of their own free will. An entire picture-gallery of the system of slavery, complete with captives, beatings, cruelties unimagined, families torn apart, and everything else they had ever heard and read about with sorrow and pity, filled their minds, and both women found it difficult to swallow their food.
That night, when one of the slave women showed the party to their rooms, and bustled about fetching water and performing little tasks, Mrs. Elton, who had learned something already in her travels to America, forbore to inquire about her condition, or to ask her what it felt like to be enslaved. She only watched, and saw that this particular serving-woman did not seem to be in any observable way less cared for, or unhealthy, or noticeably unhappier than the free black servants she had seen in the North; and she pondered this, and knew not what to think.
Mr. Elton was made uncomfortable by discussions about slavery, but his wife knew that the subject was very close to Mrs. Benson's heart, and the next morning, when they were sitting alone after breakfast, she asked for her views, now that she was in a slave territory.
"I do not exactly know. That is what we are here to learn, and to alleviate in some small manner, if we may," she said earnestly. "I have been told that here in Baltimore, slavery is not found in its very worst form; some of the slaves have no worse a life, outwardly, than ordinary working men and women, but yet it is slavery, and they, and we, can never forget it."
"It is painful, unspeakably shocking, for any English person to contemplate this sad condition," returned Mrs. Elton with emphasis, "and I do not see how the good people of America can stand for it."
The two women sat in the hotel courtyard, Mrs. Elton's children playing about them, and watched the squadron of slaves attached to the inn, busily performing their various tasks. The young women, scarves twined about their heads, worked in laundry room and kitchen; the men, in their neat quilted jackets, did odd jobs about the house and yard. All were occupied, but when addressed, the visitors noticed that their manners were superior, and less sullen and rude than Mrs. Elton had frequently found in white servants in the Northern boarding-houses.
"We cannot form an accurate impression on our first day," said Mrs. Benson thoughtfully, "but the condition of the slaves shall be the study of mine and my husband's lives, and we are to begin tomorrow: Mr. Benson has arranged for us to visit one of the large farms, or plantations, where we will see for ourselves how things are done there. You will like to come?"
"To be sure I shall. We are not to set out for the West immediately, and I should like to see as much as I can of a slave state, first. Mr. Elton cannot very well object, as you are going."
On the morrow, therefore, the Eltons and the Bensons were driven to a farm, where for the first time they saw slave quarters, the deplorable dark cabins and huts where the slaves slept; as marked a contrast as could be imagined to the planter's own handsome house. The planter, Mr. Foster, was quite amiable and willing to speak to the party, and explain to them his methods of farming, and ways of dealing with his slaves. "I am not a slave purchaser," he hastened to assure the visitors, "I inherited my workers from my father, who was a very good man; and it is our tradition that all our people are most humanely treated."
"Are you acquainted with any places where this is not particularly the case?" asked Mrs. Elton.
Visibly surprised to be so boldly addressed by a lady, the planter hesitated a moment before replying. "No - that is, you understand, all our neighbours are enlightened gentlefolk. No unreasonable whippings, or anything of that sort, goes on; this is a most genteel neighbourhood."
"But you do whip your slaves?"
"Why, only when they won't heed anything else, for they must be kept in order some way, you know; but our slaves are so well-behaved, that it is hardly ever necessary. Only if one should try to run away, or get drunk, or drive a waggon too fast, or act insolent, or misbehave outrageously."
"And then you beat them - with what?"
"Why, I do not beat them, do not think that for a moment. We employ a person to do the necessary. There was a fellow we thought stole a visitor's silver pen - it turned out later it was no such thing - but it was needful to make an example, to prevent other such incidents. He received fifteen lashes, which is not very many. However, I can assure you that such things hardly ever do occur, so it is not worth talking of. And let me say, madam, that it does concern me, and even hurts me, that this indelicate subject is the very one visitors from the North perpetually inquire about, when it is a matter that they can never be expected to understand, not being slaveowners themselves."
The women had already been confounded into silence, and it was Mr. Benson who asked about families being separated, and children "sold South."
"Such abuses never occur here, sir, I assure you. We do not sell slaves; as I intimated, we consider our people as family. Only truly incorrigible cases - old Lycidas, a regularly bad drunkard; and Esther - it is not quite delicate to speak of her, before ladies, but she occasioned endless trouble among the men - eighteen children she had, all told, before we sent her off, and sold the children. To good homes, mind, not any low dealers; and very likely workers they all made. You can comprehend that to rid the place of a few trouble-makers, is to the benefit of the good workers."
"I think," said Mr. Benson soberly, as the carriage drove the clerical party back into the city, "we have our work cut out for us, Ella."
"Yes," she replied. "It is very sure that we will be sowing the seed in tears."
"I have never been so thankful that we are not to remain in the South," said Mrs. Elton, with a shudder. "There is a great work to be done here, but I have not the courage or the heart for it. Mrs. Benson, I used to fancy myself a heroine, who would do wonders, in removing abuses; but these three months acquaintance have taught me that you are the heroine, not I. You and Mr. Benson are fit for great tasks. I do not feel myself equal to them."
"Yes - it is very painful," agreed her husband, shaking his head. "We cannot be glad enough that there is not such an evil institution in England as slavery; and hope that it can be removed from this country in the natural operations of time, so that America may one day be as fair and untainted a land as ours. Benson, we leave you to your appointed work, and go on for the West tomorrow. That is where our duty calls. I have letters from Dr. Channing, telling me of the fine church that is being established in St. Louis, and in whose vineyards we may toil. Augusta," he turned to his wife, "on our venture West, we may be forced to do without many amenities that we have been accustomed to in the larger cities; but you are agreed that we shall proceed on our appointed way, and not remain in the South?"
"With all m
y heart," she said fervently.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Eltons did not arrive in St. Louis until nearly the end of the October of 1825, after enduring travails along the way such as they never could have envisioned in all their comfortable lives back home in England. They journeyed by coach as far as Kentucky, but from that point on, they were forced to proceed in no better than a rough-hewn, ox-drawn wagon, and with only themselves to depend upon; for the maid Kitty had balked at going out to the "Red Indians" and begged to remain in Baltimore with the kind Bensons. Sam, the young groom who had come out to be their man of all work, decided that all the work he might do for the Eltons would not benefit himself as much as taking a claim on land of his own, and in consequence he had taken his savings and made off to become a smallholder in Kentucky.
Ten miles a day on a wagon track that was often no more than a rocky rut; meals that consisted of a paste made of cornmeal; the hitherto unknown sensation of being always dirty, always hungry: the children crying miserably, and no doctor, no safe Mr. Perry to give tonics and embrocations for cough and fever. The Eltons no longer resembled the sleek and civilized pair who had left Highbury, what seemed like positive ages ago. No one in that town would have recognized the skinny scarecrow, his grim wife and dirty children as the once proud Elton family. Nevertheless, when they at last reached St. Louis, their future headquarters, where they were to winter, they were alive, healthy, and in hopeful spirits.
It was a rapidly growing, frontier city of six thousand souls that they found, centred around a rising Cathedral, the wonder of the west. Steamboats plied the river, the muddy streets ran with livestock, and fur traders and riverboat men mingled in the numerous saloons. The Eltons were thankful that they retained a supply of greenbacks, what remained of their savings, and funds provided for them for the journey by Dr. Channing; this made it possible for them to take rooms at the Missouri Hotel on the muddy streets of Main and Morgan, a two-story log structure whose sign depicted the image of a buffalo. Once, Mrs. Elton would have scorned this building as too heathenish and rough even to enter; now it appeared a pinnacle of civilization, and she thankfully led her children inside.
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