VISIT TO THE VIRGINIA SPRINGS,
During the Summer of 1834.
NO. I.
On the morning of a bright and beautiful day early in July, I resumed my seat in the mail coach at Lexington, with the prospect of soon reaching the Virginia Springs. The line having been recently established was as yet little known, and on this occasion I was the only passenger. Ample opportunity was afforded for viewing the charming scenery which surrounds this village; and, certainly, the world can scarcely present a more lovely landscape than that which lay before us as we entered upon the turnpike which leads to the Springs.
At the foot of the hill which we were descending, "Woods's Creek" was stealing along through the shaded retreats and the velvet green which lines its banks; the adjoining hills were crowned with waving fields, now ripening for the harvest; the chimnies of the "Mulberry Hill" residence could just be seen, peering above the groves and the foliage which throw their charms around its retirement; the ruins of the "Old Academy"—where Alexander, Baxter, Matthews, Rice, and others of the first men in the Presbyterian Church were educated,—with its mouldering, ivy-covered walls, stood in melancholy solitude on the borders of the neighboring forest. Beyond, was the rolling country in its variety of scenery; and in the back ground, the House, Jump and North Mountains marking their clear outline, against the deep azure of a cloudless sky.
After winding among the hills for a few hours, we came in view of the long, unbroken range of mountains, over which we were to pass; and though still some miles from the base, the road could be distinctly traced, running in straight, and then in zigzag directions along the precipitous ascent. Soon after, we commenced our slow progress up the mountain, which might have been tedious had it not been that every successive moment which increased our elevation, revealed new beauties. The road itself is one of the curiosities of this region; it would scarcely seem possible for the ingenuity and energy of man to construct so safe and so delightful a passage over these rough and almost perpendicular ridges. At one point you may look from your carriage window upon the traveller some fifty feet below, parallel with yourself, and, paradoxical as it may appear, proceeding in the same direction, although he is bound for the opposite end of the road. So great are the angles necessary to be made in order to overcome the obstacles which nature had interposed. The declivity of the turnpike, however, is now so slight as to admit of travelling at almost any speed.
On reaching the summit, the view was inexpressibly grand. One of the loveliest sections of the Valley of Virginia spread its beauties below us. On one hand the "House Mountain" rose in solitary grandeur above the surrounding hills, and on the other the dark spurs of the Alleghany projected out into the more cultivated country. On the southwest, as far as the eye could reach, mountain after mountain could be seen. Immediately below and before us, were laid out as a map, the fertile fields, comfortable farm-houses and county roads of Rockbridge; the numerous streams reflected in silvery sheets, as they wound through the broken country and hurried along to pour their waters into the bosom of the James. Across the "Valley" at the distance of perhaps twenty miles, the great "Blue Ridge" stretched away towards the north and south, until it was lost in the deeper azure of the evening sky, or hid by the dark and heavy clouds which bear the summer's storm.
We were now upon the boundary which separates the "Valley" from Western Virginia. After gazing in admiration on the beauties of the country through which we had just travelled, I turned to enjoy similar scenes on the opposite side. But nothing except successive piles of mountains met the view. The deep vales and sun-tinged peaks, seemed to be still slumbering in their original wildness, and had it not been for the traces of art exhibited by our turnpike, and the sight of an iron foundry in the valley below, I should have been almost forced to the conclusion, that we were disturbing the silence of those forests which had never before echoed but to the cry of the panther, or the war-whoop of the wandering Indian.
Having halted a few minutes, the driver "shod" our coach, and rolling away with the sound of thunder down the mountain, we reached the inn where the stage stopped for the night, just as the sun was sinking behind the western hills. Our landlord and his better half were themselves Dutch, and had raised up a stout rosy-looking family, who attended to the domestic concerns of the establishment without the aid of servants. The house was situated on a level lawn between two lofty ridges of the Alleghany, part of which was neatly enclosed, and clothed with the richest green. The domicil itself was one story in height, with a piazza in front; and the peculiar national taste of the proprietor could be seen in the free use of red and black paint with which the establishment was ornamented. But the interior presented an aspect rather more inviting, after the fatigue of the day's ride. The snow-white table cloth, and the clean and plain, yet delightful fare, with which the table was bountifully supplied, gave evidence of the existence of taste in the culinary department, which amply compensated for the want of it in matters of less substantial importance. A handsome coach and four had driven up just as we arrived. After tea the guests assembled in the piazza, and we passed away in cheerful conversation the hours of a lovely summer's evening, in this wild valley among the mountains.
We reached Covington, a village on Jackson's river, to breakfast the next morning, and by ten o'clock had arrived at Callaghens, a comfortable country tavern, where we intersected the line from Staunton. On the arrival of that stage, I changed conveyances, and with it the light and rapid travelling of the former coach, for the slow and heavy motion of one loaded down with passengers and baggage. I found as my new companions, a very agreeable gentleman from Philadelphia, with his wife and son, an intelligent young South American, a huge and awkward Mississippian, an incog. gentleman with a good countenance and a white hat of the first magnitude, a youth of about seventeen, whose emaciated countenance, hectic flush and distressing cough, told that consumption had marked him as its victim, together with one or two others not peculiarly interesting. We were now but fifteen miles from the White Sulphur; and the impatience of our passengers seemed to increase almost in the duplicate ratio as the distance diminished. Every few moments the interrogatory, "How far are we now?" was heard from some one of the company. At length the number of handsome vehicles, persons on horseback and on foot, which were passing and repassing us, shewed that we were in the vicinity of the Springs. In a few moments the enclosure came in view, and immediately after we drove up in front of the hotel at the White Sulphur. Groups of gentlemen were collected about the lawn and in the long piazza of the hotel. All eyes were eagerly turned towards our coach, and many came crowding round, in hopes of espying the face of an acquaintance among the new arrivals. The first physiognomy which greeted our vision was that of the manager of the establishment, who has no very enviable notoriety among the visitors. According to his usual system, he had our baggage deposited for the remainder of the day at the foot of the tree where we landed, whilst we were left to wander about the premises, without even a domicil in which to change our dusty travelling garb for one more in unison with our personal comfort, and the general appearance of those who were to constitute our temporary associates.
There is something in the first view of the White Sulphur, very prepossessing and almost enchanting. After rolling along among the mountains and dense forests, the wild and uncultivated scenery is at once exchanged for the neatness and elegance of refined society, and the bustle and parade of the fashionable world. Almost every state in the Union, and some of the nations of Europe may find their representatives at the White Sulphur, during the months of July and August. The last season was honored with an uncommon assemblage of interesting personages. We had Messrs. Clay and Poindexter of the United States Senate; McDuffie and others from the House of Representatives; Commodores Chauncey, Biddle and Rogers of the Navy; Judges Carr, Brooke and Cabell of the Court of Appeals; Col. Aspinwall, American Consul at London; the Hon. Mr. Sergeant of Philadelphia, and a host of dignitaries of somewhat lower degree,—also from the religious community, Rev. Doctors Johns and Keith of the Episcopal Church, and Rev. Messrs. Chester, Styles, (of Georgia) and others of the Presbyterian. Mr. Clay was just recovering from an injury he had received from the upsetting of the stage, but he moved about with the lightness and activity of a boy of 15. Indeed we almost thought that he descended from his dignity by his frivolous and careless air. He was affable and accessible to all. Mr. McDuffie, on the contrary, with his hard and forbidding countenance, was morose and distant, and the very reverse of the orator of Kentucky. Perhaps, however, due allowance should be made in favor of the former, on account of the infirm state of his health.