This peninsula was formed by the junction of two rivers, between which intervened a narrow point of land, with a background of steep hills, covered with a growth of black-jack and yellow-pine to the summit. Here was a ferry with its Charon-like boat, of the primitive sort--flat barge, poled-over by negroes, and capable of containing at one time many bales of cotton, a stagecoach or wagon with four horses, besides pa.s.sengers _ad libitum_.
This ferry const.i.tuted the chief source of revenue of Madame Grambeau, an old French lady, remarkable in many ways. She kept the stage-house hard by, with its neat picketed inclosure, its overhanging live-oak trees and small trim parterre, gay at this season with various annual flowers, scarce worth the cultivation, one would think, in that land of gorgeous perennial bloom. But Queen Margarets, ragged robins, variegated balsams, and tawny marigolds, have their a.s.sociations, doubtless, to make them dear and valuable to the foreign heart, to which they seem essential, wherever a plot of ground be in possession.
Mignonette, I have observed, is a special pa.s.sion with the French exile, recalling, doubtless, the narrow boxes, fitted to the stone window-sill of certain former lofty lodgings across the sea, perhaps, situated in the heart of some great city, and overlooking roofs and court-yards--the street being quite out of the question in such a view, distant, as it seems, from them, as the sky itself, though in an opposite direction.
I have used the word "exile" advisedly with regard to Madame Grambeau, and not figuratively at all. She was, I had been told, a _bourgeoise_, of good cla.s.s, who had taken part in the early revolution, but who, when the _canaille_ triumphed and drenched the land in blood, in the second phase of that fearful outburst of volcanic feeling, had fled before the whirlwind with her child and husband to embark for America. At the point of embarcation--like Evangeline--the husband and wife had been separated accidentally, and on her arrival in a strange land she found herself alone and penniless with her son, scarce six years old. Her husband had been carried to a Southern port, she learned by the merest chance, and, disguising herself in man"s attire, and leading her little son by the hand, she set forth in quest of him, carrying with her a violin, which, together with the clothes she wore, had been found in the trunk of Monsieur Grambeau, brought on the vessel in which she came, but which depository she had been obliged to abandon, when setting forth on her pilgrimage.
She was no unskillful performer on this instrument, and solely by such aid she gained her food and lodging to the interior of Georgia. Reaching her destination after a long and painful journey and delays of many kinds, she found her husband living in a log-hut, on the border of Talupa River, a hut which he had built himself, and earning his bread by ferrying travellers across that stream.
Yet here, with the characteristic contentment of her people under all circ.u.mstances, she settled down quietly to aid him and make his home happy; bore him many children (most of whom were dead at the time I saw her, as those living were separated from her at that period), reared and educated them herself, toiled for and with them, late and early, strained every nerve in the arduous cause of duty, and found herself, in extreme old age, widowed and alone, having ama.s.sed but little of the world"s lucre, yet cheerful and energetic even if dependent still on her own exertions.
All this and much more I had heard before I saw Madame Grambeau or her abode--a picturesque affair in itself, however humble--consisting originally of a log-house, to which more recently white frame wings had been attached, projecting a few feet in front of the primitive building, and connected thereto by a shed-roofed gallery, which embraced the whole front of the log-cottage, along which ran puncheon steps the entire length of the grand original tree-trunk, as of the porch itself. It was a triumph of rural art.
Over this portico, so low in front as barely to admit the pa.s.sage of a tall man beneath its eaves, without stooping, a wild multiflora rose, then in full flower, was artistically trained so as to present a series of arches to the eye as the wayfarer approached the dwelling; no tapestry was ever half so lovely.
The path which led from the little white gate, with its swinging chain and ball, was covered with river-pebbles and sh.e.l.ls, and bordered by box, trimly clipped and kept low, and the two broad steps, that led to the porch, bore evidence of recent scouring, though rough and unpainted.
Framed in one of those pointed natural cathedral-windows of vivid green, gemmed with red roses, of which the division-posts of the porch formed the white outlines, stood the most remarkable-looking aged woman I have ever seen. At a first glance, indeed, the question of s.e.x would have arisen, and been found difficult to decide. Her attire seemed that of a friar, even to the small scalloped cape that scantily covered her shoulders, and the coa.r.s.e black serge, of which her strait gown was composed, leaving exposed her neatly though coa.r.s.ely clad feet, with their snow-white home-knit stockings, and low-quartered, well-polished calf-skin shoes, confined with steel buckles, and elevated on heels, then worn by men alone.
She wore a white habit shirt, the collar, bosom, and wristbands of which were visible; but no cap covered her silver hair, which was cropped in the neck, and divided at one side in true manly fashion. It was brushed well back from her expansive, fair, and unwrinkled forehead, beneath which large blue eyes looked out with that strange solemnity we see alone in the orbs of young, thoughtful children, or the very old.
Scott"s description of the "Monk of Melrose Abbey" occurred to me, as I gazed on this calm and striking figure!
"And strangely on the knight looked he, And his blue eyes gleamed wild and wide."
She stood watching our approach, leaning with both hands on her ebony, silver-headed cane, above which she stooped slightly, her aged and somewhat severe, but serene face fully turned toward us, in the clear light of morning, with a grave majesty of aspect.
Above her head in its wicker cage swung the gray and crimson parrot, of which Sylphy had spoken, and to which, it may be remembered, she had so irreverently likened her master on one occasion; bursting forth, as it saw us coming, into a shrill, stereotyped phrase of welcome--"_Bien venu, compatriote_," that was irresistibly ludicrous and irrelevant.
"Tremble, France! we come--we come," said Major Favraud; "there"s your quotation well applied this time, Miss Harz! It is impressive, after all."
"Hush! she will hear you," I remonstrated, quite awed in that still, majestic presence, for now we stood before our aged hostess, who, with a cold but stately politeness after Major Favraud"s salutation and introduction, waved us in and across her threshold. As for Major Favraud, he had turned to leave us on the door-sill, to see to the comfort and safety of his horses; not liking, perhaps, the appearance of the superannuated ostler, who lounged near the stable of the inn, if such might be called this rustic retreat without sign, lodging, or bar-rooms.
"Are we in the mansion of a decayed queen, or the log-hut of a wayside innkeeper?" I questioned low of Marion.
"Both in one, it seems to me," was the reply. "But Madame Grambeau is no curiosity, no novelty to me, I have stopped here so frequently. I ought to have told you, before we came, not to be surprised."
Pausing at the door of a large, square room, from which voices proceeded, she invited us with a singularly graceful though formal courtesy to enter, smiling and pointing forward silently as she did so, and then, like Major Favraud, she turned and abandoned us at the door-sill, on which we stood riveted for a moment by the sound of a vibrant and eager voice speaking some never-to-be-forgotten words.
"For the slave is the coral-insect of the South," said the voice within; "insignificant in himself, he rears a giant structure--which will yet cause the wreck of the ship of state, should its keel grate too closely on that adamantine wall. "_L"etat c"est moi_," said Louis XIV., and that "slavery is the South" is as true an utterance. Our staple--our patriarchal inst.i.tution--our prosperity--are one and indissoluble, and the sooner the issue comes the better for the nation!"
Standing with his hand on the back of a chair near the cas.e.m.e.nt-window of the large, low apartment, in close conversation with two other gentlemen, was the speaker of these remarkable words, which embraced the whole genius and policy of the South as it then existed, and which were delivered in those clear and perfectly modulated tones that bespeak the practised orator and the man of dominant energies.
I felt instinctively that I stood in the presence of one of the anointed princes of the earth--felt it, and was thrilled.
"Do you know that gentleman, Marion?" I whispered, as we seated ourselves on the old-fashioned settle, or rather sofa, in one corner of the room, gazing admiringly, as I spoke, on the tall, slight figure, with its air of power and poise, that stood at some distance, with averted face.
"No, I have no idea who it is, or who are his companions either," she replied; "unless"--hesitating with scrutiny in her eyes--
"His companions, I do not care to question of them!--but that man himself--the speaker--has a sovereign presence! Can it be possible--"
The entrance of Major Favraud interrupted further conjecture, for at the sound of those emphatic boots the stranger turned, and for one moment the splendor of his large dark eyes, in their iron framing, met my own, then pa.s.sed recognizingly on to rest on the face of Major Favraud, and advancing with extended hands, made more cordial by his voice and smile, he greeted him familiarly as "Victor."
Major Favraud stood for a moment spell-bound--then suddenly rushing forward, flung his hat to the floor, caught the hand of the stranger between his own and pressed it to his heart. (To his lips, I think, he would fain have lifted it, falling on one knee, perchance, at the same time in a knightly fashion of hero-worship that modern reticence forbids.) But he contented himself with exclaiming:
"Mr. Calhoun! best of friends, welcome back to Georgia!" And tears started to his eyes and choked his utterance. Thus was my conjecture confirmed. I never felt so thrilled, so elated, by any presence.
There was a momentary pause after this fervent greeting, emotional on one part only.
"But why did you not meet me at Milledgeville?" asked Mr. Calhoun. "Most of my friends in this vicinity sustained me there. I have been discussing the great question[2] again, Favraud, and I should have been glad of your countenance."
"I have been detained at home of late by a cruel necessity," was the faltering reply, "or I should never have played recreant to my old master."
"Good fortune spoiled me a fine lawyer in your case, Victor! But introduce me to your wife. Remember, I have never had the pleasure of meeting Madame Favraud," advancing, as he spoke, toward me, with his hand on Major Favraud"s shoulder (above whom he towered by a head), courteously and impulsively.
"Miss Harz, Miss La Vigne, Miss Durand--Mr. Calhoun," said Major Favraud, pale as death now, and trembling as he spoke. "These ladies are friends of mine--one, a distant relative"--he hesitated--"within the last six weeks I have had the misfortune to lose my wife, Mr. Calhoun.
You understand matters better now."
All conversation was cut short by this sudden announcement. Deeply shocked, Mr. Calhoun led Major Favraud aside, with a brief apology to me for his misapprehension, and they stood together, talking low, at the extreme end of the apartment, affording me thus an admirable opportunity for observing the _personnel_ of the great Southern leader, during the brief s.p.a.ce of time accorded by the change of stage-horses. For, with his friends, he was then _en route_ for another appointment. He was canva.s.sing the State, with a view to a final rally of its resources, preparatory to his last great effort--to scotch the serpent of the North, which finally, however, wound its insidious folds around the heart of brotherly affection, stifling it, as the snakes of fable were sent to do the baby Hercules.
No picture of Mr. Calhoun has ever done him justice,[3] although his was a physiognomy that an artist could scarcely fail to make an extern likeness of, from its remarkable characteristics. It was truly an iron-bound face, condensed, powerful in every nerve, muscle, and lineament, and fraught, beyond almost all others, with intellect and resolution. But the glory and power of that glance and smile no painter could convey--those attributes of man which more fully than aught else betray the immortal soul!
Just as I beheld him that day, bending above Major Favraud in his tender, half-paternal dignity and solicitude combined, soothing and condoling with him (I could not doubt, from the expression of his speaking countenance), I see him still in mental vision; nor can I wonder more at the depth and strength of enthusiasm he awakened in the hearts of his friends.
It belongs not to every great man to excite this devotion, yet, where it blends with greatness, it is irresistible. Mohammed, Cyrus, Alexander, Darius, Pericles, Napoleon, were thus magnetically gifted. I recall few instances of others so distinguished in station who possessed this power, which has its root, perhaps, after all, in the great master-pa.s.sion of mortality, the yearning for exalted sympathy, so seldom accorded.
This observation of mine was but a glimpse at best, for the winding of the stage-horn was the signal for Mr. Calhoun"s departure, and I never saw him more. But that glimpse alone opened to my eyes a mighty volume!
A few days before I should have rejected as wearisome the details to which I listened with eagerness now, and which I even sought to elicit as to Mr. Calhoun--his mode of life, his mountain-home, and his pa.s.sion, for those heights he inhabited, and which, no doubt, contributed to train his character to energy and strengthen his _physique_ to endure its brain-burden, I heard with pleasure the account of one who had pa.s.sed much of his youth beneath his roof, and who, however enthusiastic, was, in the very framing of his nature, strictly truthful with regard to the mutual devotion of the master and slaves, the invariable courtesy and sweetness of his deportment to his own family, his justice and regard for the feelings of his lowest dependant, his simplicity, his cheerfulness.
"A grave and even gloomy man in public life, he is all life and interest in the social circle," said Major Favraud. "His range of thought is the grandest and most unlimited, his powers of conversation are the rarest I have ever met with. Yet he never refused, on any occasion, to answer with minuteness the inquiries of the smallest child or most insignificant dependant. "Had he not been Alexander, he must have been Parmenio." Had fortune not struck out for him the path of a statesman, he would have made the most impressive and perfect of teachers. As it was, without the slightest approach to pedagogism, he involuntarily instructed all who came near him, without effort or weariness on either side."
"Does he love music--poetry?" I asked.
"Oh, yes; Scottish songs and cla.s.sic verse, especially, are his delights. He has no affectation. His tastes are all his own--his opinions all genuine. He is, indeed, a man of very varied attainment, as well as great grasp of intellect. Yet, as you see, he likes his opposites sometimes, Miss Harz," and he laid his hand proudly on his own manly breast.
Talking thus in that large, low, scantily-furnished parlor, with its split-bottomed chairs, in primitive frames (and in somewhat strange contrast to its well-polished mahogany tables, dark with time, and walls adorned with good engravings), with its floor freshly scoured and sanded, while a simple deal stand in the centre bore a vase filled with the rarest and most exquisite wild-flowers I had ever seen (from the gorgeous amaryllis and hibiscus of these regions, down to wax-like blossoms of fragile delicacy and beauty, whose very names I knew not), and its many small diamond-paned cas.e.m.e.nt-windows, all neatly curtained with coa.r.s.e white muslin bordered with blue, time pa.s.sed unconsciously until the noonday meal was announced.
We followed the Mercury of the establishment, a grave-looking little yellow boy, who seemed to have grown prematurely old, from his constant companionship, probably, with his preceptor and mistress, into a long, low apartment in the rear of the dwelling, where a table was spread for our party, with a damask cloth and napkins, decorated china and cut-gla.s.s, that proved Madame Grambeau"s personal superintendence; and which elicited from Major Favraud, as he entered, a long, low whistle of approval and surprise, and the exclamation "Heh! madame! you are overwhelming us to-day with your magnificence."
I was amused with the response. "Sit down, Victor Favraud, and eat your dinner Christian-like, without remarks! You have never got over the spoiling you, received when you lay wounded under this roof. I shall indulge you no longer." Shaking her long forefinger at him. "Your familiarity needs to be checked." Her manner of grave and kindly irony removed all impression of rebuke from this speech, which Major Favraud received very coolly, spoiled child that he really was, rubbing his hands as he took the foot of the table. At the sight of the _bouilli_ before him, from which a savory steam ascended to his epicurean nostrils, he said, notwithstanding: "Soup and _bouilli_ too! Ah, madame, I see why you absented yourself so cruelly this morning. You have been engaged in good works!"
"Only the sauces, Favraud!--_seulement les sauces_."
"The sauces--it"s just that!--Ude is a mere charlatan in comparison,"
turning to me. "Miss Harz, you never tasted any thing before like madame"s soup and sauces. I wish she would take me in partnership for a while, if only to teach me the recipes that will otherwise die with her.
What a restaurant we two could keep together!"
"You are too unsteady, Favraud, for my _maitre d"hotel_. Your mind is too much engrossed by the bubbles of politics, you would spoil all my materials, and realize the old proverb that "the devil sends cooks." But go to work like a good fellow, and carve the dish before you; by that time the soup will be removed. I have a fine fish, however, in reserve (let me announce this at once), for my end of the table."