WHERE RALEIGH WAS

Evening Post, Volume CXXII, Issue 14, 16 July 1936, Page 24

WHERE RALEIGH WAS

A VISIT TO VIRGINIA

A TIMELESS LAND

On board the Borengaria we were quickly made to realise that to visit Virginia was the right thing to do, writes Freda Godfrey in the "Manchester Guardian.'1 We did not realise at first that it mattered much whether we were bound for Massachusetts or for Ohio, but when we observed the effect of the statement that we were on our way to visit friends in Virginia we learned to display this card with modest pride. It was rather as if on the reverse journey we had said that we I were visiting Hatfield or a ducal grouse moor. We were assured that we would "just adore Virginia, and the people were just too, too sweet." It is true that we were slightly damped by the further information that "no one in Virginia discussed anything more recent than the Civil War": we had felt doubtful beforehand whether our views on Locarno, the Covenant, and Abyssinia were up to the standard of inquiring Americans, but it would be more baffling to be expected to have intelligent opinions about Jackson's Valley campaign or the battles of Bull Run. FIRST IMPRESSIONS. New York is incredible—the skyscrapers so fortuitously disposed and yet forming a harmonious whole, the Statue of Liberty unexpectedly green and yet more impressive than one had anticipated. The hustle of the docks, where one tries to satisfy the curiosity of Customhouse officials with emotional farewells to old friends of three days' standing, seems appropriate to a first' experience of the United States. For -us the agitation was much allayed by the totally unexpected appearance of our Virginian friends. Where but in Virginia does one travel ,300 miles to meet one's visitors'? Even under their guidance we found ourselves continually ejaculating "How surprising!" for New York is at once so like and so unlike London; Paris, or Rome. Washington seemed extremely clean and pleasant, if a little artificial. A town where no factory may be erected is almost a contradiction in terms to us but the wide tree-lined streets are charming. ' No one could do justice to the charm of Virginia and Virginians. The limitless lovely country, one rolling hill after another, gives a sense of space and freedom such as one never gets at home. One of Roosevelt's relief works is a 100-mile road along the ridge of the Blue Mountains, where one seems on the top of an endless rolling world: a picnic lunch in the woods is faintly marred by the chance remark of our host that we are "unlikely to see a bear" and that one "usually hears a rattlesnake before he bites you." As we gathered the hepatica or snow-like blood root, we rustled the' dead leaves ostentatiously, hoping that both bear and rattlesnake desired a mutual acquaintance as little as ourselves. NOTHING STINTED. But if Virginia is delightful, so are Virginians. Their enthusiastic welcome shames our cold-hearted ways and convinces us that they have really been living for years in the hope of meeting us. Their hospitality leaves us breathless. There is nothing stinted about their parties. Asked out to lunch on Sunday, one visualises the decorous English table complete with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and is entirely unprepared for a party of 300 guests, greeted on arrival with tumblers of mint julep which unloosened every tongue, indeed if the American tongue ever stands in need of unloosing. I had always heard that the United States was the land of hustling and dollars. In Virginia, on the other hand, no one has any sense of time. Meals are always unpunctual, visitors arrive at any time and stay for hours, the coloured servants deal daily with situations which would lead an English staff to give notice. As for the almighty dollar, money is never mentioned nor does it seem to rank high in the standard of values. Socially it seems to matter little whether one is rich or poor. We found indeed that our hosts would gladly motor us thirty miles to dine in a tiny house where the dinner was cooked by the mistress, but rather shrugged their shoulders at an invitation to dine with a millionaire. A shabby young man bemoaning his luck at the races aroused our sympathy, but we were reassured by the information that he had an adequate capital of twelve million English pounds. WALK WITH REASON. Everyone rides in Virginia or travels by car. They walk only in the pursuit of game. An English wife complains that her husband cannot walk half a mile without bemoaning the "misery in his feet." In the autumn, on the other hand, press a heavy gun into his hand and he develops a capacity for walking miles and miles without turning a hair. Surely nowhere is food so good as in Virginia. As we swallowed bowls of soup heaped high with whipped cream or the hot pastry rolls served so surprisingly with the meat course, we reflected that only a very bad Dassage home could save our figures. The coloured servants arouse memories of the devoted retainers of Victorian days, and the dignified and impressive maid who brought my morning tea showed a disposition to introduce such topics as the problem of indwelling grace or heredity versus environment. I found it difficult to rise to her altitudes at 7.30 a.m., and cut but a poor figure. Perhaps it is as-well .that time' is limited and our stay.a short one. Life could never really be as delightful as it seems in these Virginian homes, and had we stayed longer we might have discovered flaws and imperfections. For us, however, the blue bird who haunts' the woods of Virginia will easily be the symbol of happiness, and when we are back in our crowded and warscared island we can always travel in thought to Raleigh' colony, where the wide spaces seem to symbolise the free and happy life of its inhabitants.

conspire to throw over it a languorous glory. For any student of the campaign it must also be a depressing terrain. . 6

Anybody who' cares to follow the movements and the dispositions of British brigades and battalions on th» Gallipoli peninsula must surely cease at some point in his labours and ask himself if he.is standing on his lund or his heels.

If he is indiscreet he will ask himself the further question: "Could this sort of thing happen all over again"? The answer is, of course, "Easily." i n wartime human lives are at the mercy of any old brain that the "system" happens to throw up. The failure in Gallipoli has been variously described as "gallant" "splendid," "tragic," "classic." It is all these, and more; but it is difficult not 1-0 be bitter about it.

Only a man blind to facts • and actualities would venture to define the Gallipoli legend, which indisputably exists, both at home and overseas However, its abiding strength may be gratefully acknowledged as a tribute to man's unconquerable optimism of soul.