"It came all to the same thing in the end, madam, I presume," replied Mr. Wheatley, laughing. "He had been nearly drowned in saving you, I was told; and as his was a voluntary act, as well as yours, the foundation of the story was pretty correct."
"Mine was anything but a voluntary act," said Bessy Davenport; "for I know when I found my pony rolling into the water with me, I would have consented to have my head shaved and be sent to the penitentiary, to be off his back and on the dry land."
"Or to be married and settled in the country," said Mr. Wheatley, "which is worse. However, 'all's well that ends well,' as the old comedy says; and here you are, madam, alive and comfortable; and Sir Richard--I should not have mentioned his style of dignity, God bless the mark! unless I had found he had discovered himself, or been discovered before I came--Sir Richard in fully as good a state of preservation as when I had the pleasure of knowing him in Norfolk. You are aware, I dare say, Sir Richard, that in consequence of our admirable republican institutions, which cause us to ignore all that we knew before of the horrible aristocratic institutions of Europe, a baronet or a lord in the United States is exactly like a Japan cabinet, a Chinese pagoda, or any other outlandish curiosity. No one knows how it ought to stand, how it ought to be placed, what are its ends, objects, or purposes. Some people, indeed, look upon this aristocracy as a sort of idolatry; regard you as the god, Fi-fo-fum, of some distant and pagan nation. The old man of the inn, who has got a fat stomach, and has lost two sons, asked me if I had seen the baronet, just as if you were a piece of porcelain or some other curiosity which people go to see. But the idol is the best image, after all; for the poor people, not being travellers, imagine decidedly that you worship nobility in your country. 'Tis a peculiar prejudice, somewhat characteristic of our people. They can conceive no respect for anything not religious, and very little for anything that is. We in the north begin with want of reverence for our parents, and end with want of reverence for our God. Here, in the south, they have a few traditions; and where there is tradition there is some reverence. But amongst us New-Englanders, the bump of reverence is altogether wanting. Where it should be, there is nothing but an hiatus; and yet there is plenty of fanaticism amongst us. By the way, Stringer, they tell me there is going to be a camp-meeting to-night, in your neighbourhood. Are you going?"
"No," answered Mr. Stringer; "I do not like camp-meetings. I think they offer very serious and unprofitable interruptions to the ordinary affairs of life."
"That's manly, and a manlike view," observed Mr. Wheatley; "the ladies, doubtless, differ. Do you go, madam?"
"No," answered Bessy Davenport; "I went once, and I will never go again. I did not know before to what a pitch human nature could be debased."
"Well, I shall go," answered Mr. Wheatley; "I always do. I like to see that same human nature in all its phases. I look upon it as one of the most curiously-constructed and multilateral pieces of machinery that ever was invented, and every side different from the other. Besides, sometimes one gets a good deal of good out of a camp-meeting. I have once or twice heard as good a sermon there as I ever heard in my life--sermons that have quite touched me about the liver and diaphragm. Oh! I shall go, certainly! won't you go, Sir Richard?" I told him that such was my intention; and it was concluded that we should go together that night, after dinner, he assuring me that I should, at all events, both see and hear things worthy of my attention, which I might never have the opportunity of seeing again. We were to have a whole host of eloquent preachers; one half the population, black and white, was to be assembled, and a large collection had been made already for lamps and torches, to give additional light to the solemn scene. I could perceive, several times during the day, that both Mrs. Stringer and Bessy Davenport were half inclined to be of the party; but they could not make up their minds: and certainly I was very glad that they refrained, after I had seen all that was going on in the outskirts of the ground. About half-past six o'clock, Mr. Wheatley and I set out, under the guidance of my good friend Zedekiah, who was vastly impatient at our long delay.
"All the exercises will be over," he said, "and you will come in in de middle of de unction, without having de pot boiling."
"Never mind, Zed, never mind," said Mr. Wheatley, as we walked on; "we have got fire enough in ourselves to boil half a dozen pots." Our way lay through the woods, with a cultivated field here and there intervening; and, at length, we began to see lights twinkling through the trees, giving notice that we were approaching the place of meeting. It was a tall grove, which had either been long cleared of underwood, or had grown up naturally without such encumbrance. First, we fell upon a number of tents and huts, belonging to those whom I suppose are technically called outsiders; and I cannot say that the scenes displayed by the various lanterns which were scattered about impressed me with any strong idea of either the sobriety or the morality of that excellent class, whatever might be their views of religion. Farther on, we came upon a scene not without its interest, at least in a picturesque scene. Under the tall trees was stretched out a sort of platform of rough-sawn deal boards, along the front of which, a great number of lights were arranged, and upon which stood, in a row, some eight or nine preachers. With an interval between this platform and the congregation, were numbers of benches and chairs, on which were ranged, without any other light than that afforded by the lanterns in front, some three or four hundred women; while through the trees around I could distinguish a great number of other groups, with here and there a lantern or a lamp. I need not dwell upon all that ensued; both because most people must have seen descriptions of these meetings, and because, in our sober and unexcitable country, the mixture of profanity, enthusiasm, and passion--ay, passion, that must be the word--that was displayed could only produce feelings of mingled disgust and abhorrence. I have no doubt that some people were there, full of feelings of deep and sincere religion; but the calm conclusion of my mind is, that such meetings tend to anything but the increase of piety. I believe it would be better to visit the temple of Juggernaut, than to visit one of these camp-meetings. One or two little incidents, however, I must mention not as characteristic of the scene, but as bearing upon some of the persons whom I have already mentioned in connection with my own story. On running my eye along over the preachers, one of the first whom I beheld was my ungainly acquaintance Mr. McGrubber; and, to say truth, I did not expect to be very much edified by the discourse of the worthy divine. It is true, his long black gown covered up a number of the anomalies in his strange, gaunt figure, though his curiously-shaped head and very repulsive features still stood forth in their native ugliness. A step before him, actually addressing the congregation, was a stout, tall man, of a very benevolent countenance, to whom I had been before introduced as a Doctor Shepherd. His voice was fine and powerful; and, as it was raised to its very highest pitch, I caught the greater part of what he said, though I continued standing behind all the benches. The oratorical part of his sermon was, indeed, not very extensive, for there was a sort of chorus--if I may so call what was spoken by himself--which, like those of the Greek tragedies, occupied the greater part of the drama. This consisted of such sentences as, "Come to Jesus, my beloved brethren--come to the foot of the cross--resist not the Holy Spirit. I hear the sighs and groans breaking from your hearts.--Come and drink of the living waters--come and taste of your sweet Saviour's love!" I heard, and I write these sentences, with pain; for there was a strange want of harmony between them and the scenes I had beheld going on around, which made me feel them to be almost blasphemous in the circumstances in which they were spoken. The rest of his oration, or sermon, consisted of a somewhat disjointed disquisition upon the rights of the black and white races, and the equality of all men, of whatever colour, in the sight of God, which I should have thought would be considered incendiary by the more violent upholders of slavery, many of whom were, assuredly, present. Nobody, however, expressed any disapprobation; but, on the contrary, several very pretty young women rushed forward to the foot of the platform, cast themselves on their knees before the preacher, and gave way to the emotions which he had excited in sighs and groans, and cries of "Oh Jesus! sweet Jesus!" The worthy preacher seemed to me to fondle them with even an excess of brotherly love; but, at length, he gave way to another minister, who was no other than my friend Mr. McGrubber.
"Let us go," said I to Mr. Wheatley. "I have had enough of this sort of thing."