Appearance of the Country below Richmond.

Westover.

Colonel Byrd.

Birth-place of President Harrison

of the James River by the line of the white vapor which stretched away, far southward, like a huge serpent measuring its mighty length over the land.

1848.

Before leaving Richmond, I endeavored to ascertain the exact location of Westover, the famous estate of Colonel Byrd, and memorable as the landing-place of Arnold's troops. I could not learn its relative position in distance from the direct road to Charles City courthouse, the goal of my first day's journey, and I thought I should pass it by unvisited. After leaving Richmond a few miles, the hilly country disappeared, and there spread out a level or gently rolling region, bearing extensive pine forests, which inclose quite large plantations. I dined in my wagon upon cold turkey and biscuit, furnished by my kind friend, Mrs. G., of Richmond, after giving Charley a lunch of meal and water, by the side of a small stream in the way. The day was very warma- -too warm to ride comfortably a Dec. 18, with an overcoat. Not suspecting that I might diverge into a wrong road by one of the numerous forks which characterize the highway, I allowed Charley to jog on leisurely, and with a loose rein, while I gave myself up to contemplation, which was occasionally interrupted by a passing regret that I was obliged to forego the pleasure of visiting Westover. Suddenly, on emerging from a pine forest into an open cultivated region, the bright waters of a broad river, dotted with an occasional sail, were before me. On the bank of the river was a spacious brick mansion, approached from the country by a broad lane, in which a large number of servants, men and women, were engaged shucking or husking corn. The gleaming water was the James River, and the spacious mansion was that of John A. Selden, Esq., once the residence of Colonel Byrd. I was at Westover, scarcely conscious how I had reached it; for I supposed myself to be upon the direct road to Charles City courthouse, and probably a dozen miles from the spot I desired to see. I was between two and three miles from the main road, led thither by a deceptive by-way, and was obliged to retrace the journey, after passing half an hour in viewing the location. The family of the proprietor was absent, and not a white person was upon the plantation. It must be a delightful place in summer, and, when it was occupied by the accomplished family of the widow of Colonel Byrd,' doubtless justified the Marquis de Chastellux in giving his glowing account of the beauty of its location and the charms of society there. "That of Mrs. Byrd," he says, "to which I was going, surpasses them all [fine mansions on the James River] in the magnificence of the buildings, the beauty of its situation, and the pleasures of society." Mrs. Byrd was a cousin of Benedict Arnold, and this relationship, and the fact that Westover was made the place of landing for the British troops three times under Arnold and Cornwallis, so excited the suspicions of the vigilant Whigs, that the government once took possession of her papers. She was wrongfully suspected, and the landings of the enemy were great misfortunes to her in various ways. I made a sketch of the fine old mansion before leaving Westover, but lost it that very evening. A short distance above Westover, and in sight of its gardens, upon the river shore, is Berkeley (called Barclay in the old books), the residence of Benjamin Harrison, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and the birth-place of his son, the ninth president of the United States. It is a brick edifice, with gambrelroof, and stands about an eighth of a mile from the bank of the river. Around it are tall Lombardy poplars, rising in stately beauty above shrubbery and lesser trees. I made this sketch from the deck of a steam-boat, while ascending the James River a few days afterward, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, aided in my view of the details by the captain's spy-glass

BERKELEY.

1 Colonel William Byrd, whose widow owned Westover when Arnold landed there, was the son of Colonel William Byrd, once president of the Virginia Council, and one of the wealthiest and most accomplished gentlemen in the province. Like his father, he was an active public man. He was a commissioner to treat with the Indians in 1756, and accompanied Forbes in his expedition against Fort Duquesne in 1758. Being a gay spendthrift and a gambler, his immense wealth was much lessened at his death, and his affairs were left in great confusion. 2 Travels, ii., 16 .

Anecdote of Harrison's Father.

Charles City Court House.

Birth-place of President Tyler.

Jefferson's Marriage.

For many years Berkeley was the seat of elegant taste and refinement, for its distinguished owner as a legislator, and as governor of the state, drew around him the wealthy and honorable of the commonwealth. His portrait, and a sketch of his life, will be found among those of the signers of the Declaration of Independence in another part of this work.' Leaving Westover, I returned to the highway, and after traversing a beautiful level country, garnished with fertile plantations and handsome mansions, for about six miles, 1 reached Charles City Court House.

2

It was just at sunset, and there I passed the night with Mr. Christian, who was the clerk of the county, the jailer, and innkeeper. His house of entertainment, the old court-house and jail, and a few out-houses and servants' quarters, compose the village. The county is the smallest in Virginia, yet bears the honor of having given birth to two presidents of the United States, and of being the place of marriage of a third. I passed the birth-place of President Tyler just before reaching Mr. Christian's inn. It is the last dwelling upon the Richmond road, when leaving the Court House. His father, John Tyler, was one of the leading revolutionary men in Virginia. He succeeded Benjamin Harrison as speaker of the Virginia Assembly, and in 1808 he was chosen governor of the state. While Judge of the District Court of the United States, he died, at his seat, in January, 1813.

John Tyler

SIGNATURE OF PRESIDent Ty-
LER'S FATHER.

Mr. Christian allowed me to pass the evening searching among the dusty records in the old court-house. I found nothing there relating to Revolutionary events; but in a bundle of papers, wrapped up and laid away probably for more than half a century, I discovered the marriage license-bond of Thomas Jefferson, in his own handwriting. I made a fac simile copy of it, which is printed on the opposite page. Mr. Jefferson was married to Martha Skelton, of Charles City county, in January, 1772. She was the widow of

Martha Jefferson

Bathurst Skelton, and daughter of John Wayles, an eminent lawyer of Virginia. She brought her husband a considerable fortune, and was only twenty-three years of age when she was married to Mr. Jefferson. Through the stormy period of the Revolution she shared his joys and sorrows, and died in 1782, leaving two daughters. It will be perceived that in writing the bond, which is countersigned by Francis Eppes (the father of Mr. Eppes, who afterward married Mr. Jefferson's daughter), the usual word spinster was introduced, but erased, and the word widow substituted by another hand.

The Marquis de Chastellux gives an interesting account of his visit to Mr. Harrison, at his residence in Richmond, while he was governor of the state. He relates an anecdote of Mr. Harrison, which illustrates the confidence of the people in their delegates to the first Congress at Philadelphia. When he was on the point of leaving home, with Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Lee, a large number of the country people waited upon him, and said, "You assert that there is a fixed intention to invade our rights and privileges. We own that we do not see this clearly; but since you assure us it is so, we believe the fact. We are about to take a very dangerous step, but we confide in you, and are ready to support you in every measure you shall think proper to adopt." Shortly afterward appeared Lord North's speech, clearly avowing his intentions toward the colonies. When Mr. Harrison returned home, at the close of the session, the same people came to him, with the assurance that they were now convinced that he had not deceived them, that their confidence was not misplaced, and that henceforth they were determined on war.— —Travels, ii., 159.

2 William Henry Harrison and John Tyler were both born in that county, and there Thomas Jefferson was married.

3 The style of this building is similar to that of Hanover court-house. It is constructed of imported brick, and was erected previous to that at Hanover. I could not discover the exact period when it was built. Among its records I found notices of courts held at Charles City as early as 1639.

I copied this signature from a letter written to the lady of General Gates in August, 1780.

Jefferson's Marriage License-bond.

Historical Associations of Charles City Court House.

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FAC SIMILE OF THOMAS JEFFERSON'S MARRIAGE LICENSE-BOND, IN HIS OWN HANDWRITING.

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return from Richmond.a and near Charles City Court-house. The enemy had no knowledge of the way. three, and from them Simcoe learned that a party of militia, under General Nelson, lay at cavalry, under Simcoe. Falling in with some American videttes, they captured two or Long Bridge, in order to obtain intelligence. The patrol consisted of about forty under Simcoe, and a party of American militia, on the evening of the day after Arnold's Charles City Court House was a scene of mortal strife between the Queen's Rangers, Arnold had directed a patrol on that evening toward The night was clear and frosty, and the moon at A negro prisoner was made to act

its full.1

1 Simcoe, in his journal, says " the night was very dark."

Mr. Tyler informed me that his father, who

Attack upon the American Militia.

as guide.

Carelessness of Dudley.

"Sherwood Forest."

Ex-president Tyler.

The party at the Court House, consisting of one hundred and fifty militia, under the command of Colonel Dudley, were completely surprised, for they had no intimation. of the immediate approach of a foe until their sentries were fired upon, and two bugles sounded the signal of attack, upon the frosty air of that winter's night. A confused and scattering fire ensued, when the American detachment fled and joined the main body, which

lay a few miles distant, toward the Chickahominy River. A part of Simcoe's dragoons. dismounted, rushed into the tavern, and seized several of the Americans. Two of the militiamen (Deane and Ballard) were killed. One of them was slain upon the landing at the head of the stairs, while fleeing to the chamber for safety. The spot was pointed out to me, where, until within a few years, the stains of the victim's blood might be seen. The attack was so sudden and furious, that those who escaped and communicated the fact to the militia under Nelson, so alarmed that body, that a large number of them broke from the camp, and fled to Williamsburg. Simcoe collected his prisoners and a few captured horses as speedily as possible, and before dawn he joined Arnold at Westover.

OLD TAVERN AT CHARLES CITY COURT HOUSE.2

Mr. Tyler (the late President of the United States), on whom I called while on my way from Charles City Court House to Jamestown, informed me that his father, who was then a member of the Virginia Assembly, but at his residence at the time, aware of the force of the enemy at Westover and Berkeley, earnestly advised Colonel Dudley, the commander of the county militia, to place his men in a position for defense; offering, at the same time, to join them, and act in any capacity. He advised him to remove his party from the tavern, for, if left there drinking and carousing as usual, they would surely be surprised. The haughty colonel would not heed his warning, and the result was defeat and disgrace.3 Warm and It was another glorious morning when I left Charles City Court House. brilliant as May, I anticipated a delightful day's journey. Nor was I disappointed. A heavy fog during the night had hung each bough and spray with liquid jewels, and these, glittering in the early sun, fell in radiant showers as the light breezes touched their restingplaces. Traversing a rough road for nearly four miles, I crossed a rapid stream at a mill, and ascending to a plain half a mile beyond, I reined up at the entrance-gate to Sherwood Forest, the estate of ex-President Tyler. His mansion is very spacious, and stands upon the brow of a gentle slope, half a mile from the highway. It is sheltered in the rear by a thick forest of oaks, pines, and chestnuts, while from the front the eye overlooks almost the whole of his plantation of fourteen hundred acres, with occasional glimpses of the James River. The distinguished proprietor was at home, and received me with that courteous hospitality so common in the South, which makes the traveler feel at ease, as if at the house of a friend. Mr. Tyler is tall and slender in person, his locks long, thin, and slightly grizzled, and he was dressed in the plain garb of a Virginia planter. After giving warm expressions of interest in my enterprise, and an invitation to remain longer at Sherwood Forest,

was then at home, and witnessed a part of the affray, always declared that the sky was cloudless, and the moon in full orb.

2 This tavern, in which I lodged, was built about ten years before the skirmish which occurred within and around it. It is now occupied by Edmund F. Christian, Esq., the clerk of Charles City county when I visited it in 1848.

He was

3 A man named Royston, whom Mr. Tyler well knew, was badly wounded in the affray. A pistol was discharged so near his head, that grains of powder sprinkled his face, and disfigured him for life. then struck down by a saber blow, and the troopers cruelly tried to make their horses trample him to death. He crawled to The animals, more humane in action than their riders, leaped over him, and he was saved. the residence of Mr. Tyler, where a colored nurse, the only inmate of the house, dressed his wounds and gave him food and drink. Mr. Tyler had moved his family to a place of safety, beyond the Chickahominy River.

The Slashes of the Chickahominy.

Difficulties at the Ferry.

The Chickahominy and its Associations.

he sketched a map of my route to Jamestown, as a guide among the diverging ways. Time was precious, and I passed only an hour at the hospitable mansion of the ex-president, and then departed for the Chickahominy.

Soon after leaving Sherwood Forest, I entered a low, wet region, covered with pines, called the slashes. These extended to the banks of the Chickahominy, a distance of seven miles; and in all that journey, without a clearing to cheer the eye, I saw no living thing, except an occasional "wild boar of the wood," a dwarf breed of hogs which inhabit this dreary region. Here, where once broad fields were smiling with culture-blessings, and this road, now almost a quagmire, but fifty years ago was one of the finest highways in Virginia, wild deers and turkeys abound, as if the land was a primeval wilderness. It was a sad commentary upon the past husbandry of Virginia, and a sadder picture of the inevitable result of the present bad husbandry which prevails in many regions of the South. Year after year the tillers make constant drafts upon the vitality of the soil without an ounce of compensating manure, until all fertility is exhausted. I saw thousands of acres in the course of my journey, where tillage had levied its withering taxes until the generous soil could no longer yield its tithe, nor even its hundredth. The earth was completely covered with “poverty grass,” dwarf pines, or stately forests of the same tree, patiently renewing its strength during a long Sabbath-rest of abandonment by man.

It was at meridian when I emerged from the wilderness and halted upon the high sandbank of the Chickahominy, a few miles above its confluence with the James River. Above, all appeared bright and beautiful; below, all was gloomy and desolate. Silence reigned

here, where once the busy ferryman plied his oars from morning until night. No voice was to be heard; no human habitation was to be seen. The broad and turbid river moved sluggishly on without a ripple, and on the beach a scow, half filled with water, told only of desolation. There appeared no way for me to cross the stream. If denied that privilege,

I must make a circuit of thirty miles' travel to a public crossing above! I looked for the smoke of a dwelling, but saw none. I shouted; there was no response but that of echo. Remembering that, just before reaching the clearing upon the Chickahominy, I saw a road, covered with leaves, diverging toward the James River, I returned, reined into it, and followed it with hope. Presently I saw a log hut upon the shore, and heard the voices of men. They were negroes, busily preparing a canoe for a fishing excursion. I inquired for a ferryman, and was informed that nobody crossed now, and the scow would not float. Two of the men speedily changed their opinion when I offered a bright half dollar to each if they would “bail out” the craft and "pole" me across. They worked faithfully, and within half an hour I was embarked upon the stream, with my horse and vehicle, in a shell just long enough and broad enough to contain us. To keep Charley quiet, so as to "trim the boat," I allowed him to dine upon some oats which I procured at Charles City Court House. The Chickahominy is here about a quarter of a mile wide. The current was quite strong, and so deep, that the poles, by which the bateau was impelled, were sometimes too short for use. We drifted some distance down the stream, and, at one time, I anticipated an evening voyage upon the James River, but by the great exertions of the motive-power we reached the landing-place in safety, after rather a dangerous voyage of nearly three quarters of an hour. The bateau was again almost half filled with water, and the ferrymen were obliged to empty it before returning. I was too much occupied while crossing with apprehensions of an involuntary bath to reflect upon the perils which Captain John Smith encountered upon this very stream, before the empire of the white men had commenced; but when safely seated in my wagon upon the Jamestown side of the river, I looked with intense interest upon the wooded shores of those waters, up which that adventurer paddled. More than sixty miles above the place where I crossed he was captured by Opechancanough, the king of Pamunkee, and carried in triumph to Powhatan, at Werowocomoco, where he was saved from death by the gentle Pocahontas. These events we shall consider presently.

I was now eight miles from old Jamestown, the goal of my day's journey. Hungry and thirsty, I was about entering another dreary region of slashes, five miles in extent, when I