Who is Afraid of Virginia?

By Dana G. Peleg, Virginia

 Since its days as an American Civil War post, the town of Fredericksburg has kept its special characteristics, that were molded back then, including the weapons, the leeches in the apothecary (pharmacy) and the tavern owned by Charles Washington, the first president’s brother. It is an American milestone.

 Some say that in Virginia, the American civil war (1861-1864) never ended. A visit to this lovely historical town, that resides in the middle of the way between Washington DC (the North capital, of course) and Richmond, the historical capital of the South, on the banks of the Rappahannock River, proves it is true. You can still see confederate flags in the streets of Fredericksburg, which are the South flags (the stripes are the same, only the stars appear in an X shape), and downtown looks like it froze in time no later than 1870. The town is full of historical milestones, and in Caroline Street, the town’s main street for over 280 years, I counted at least three American antiques and memorabilia shops.

The Virginian summer is very much like the Israeli one (it’s very cold in winter, rainy and even snowy. Next time we’ll go in spring). Because of this, we preferred watching a movie in the cool air-conditioned visitor center, to taking an hour and a half trolley tour (open trollies, no air conditioning). We marked some sites, and then purchased a bunch of discounted tickets for those sites. By the way, the center itslef, located on 706  Caroline street, is a historical site, open to public every day.

We started our tour at the civil war museum, that is located by the site in which the civil war took place, “The Sunken Road”. It’s a blossoming beautiful place, and it’s hard to imagine that anything like that happened here, in this peaceful town.  Situated in a strategic point, Fredericksburg became a desirable target. After two bloody combats, it was conquered by the Union army, which destroyed it, and killed and wounded many soldiers. If you like military history, and if 19th Century guns, encryption tools and bandages are your kick, this is the place for you.

Spanish Leeches for Sale

We decided to go 100 years back, to the Colonial period, before the establishment of the USA. On the Hug Mercer Apothecary Shop door a note in fine penmanship and excellent English announced:  “New leeches have just arrived from the Spanish Colonies. Good for all ailments”. We opened the wooden door and let ourselves in. A saftig nice nurse, in an apron and a hair band welcomed us: “Go first to the doctor, my dear ladies, and the assistant will explain everything to you”. We went into a side room. The assistant, a skinny girl, almost as if taken from a Dickens story, held a metal pliers and explained to a mother with two children: “you don’t want to fall into the hands of the dentist”. I always knew that. “The wandering dentists”, she continued, “charge high prices for dentures made of healthy teeth, and your good tooth, might well disappear, with the dentist”.

When we got back to the main room, the nurse explained that the most desired product is rose water, “since, as you probably know, we only wash ourselves, once or twice a year”. Not only the costumes, the dialect was also from that period. We continued slowly to Mary Washington’s house on 1200 Charles Street.

Fredericksburg is very proud of George Washington’s mother, who lived here for her last 17 years. Even the local college is named after her. On her deathbed, at the age of 81, her son came for her blessing, when he was appointed for the first president of the US. Her age was remarkable, in  a time when the average life expectancy was 40 years.

The house is relatively humble, its walls are low, the floor is wooden and there are only few decoration. The most prominent piece of furniture in the bedroom, except for the canopy bed, is a large box, on the window seal. “This is the Bible box”, the guide notes. “In the 18th Century there were many fires, so the family documents were kept here, with the Bible. In case of fire, one could take them and get out of the window”. Due to the fire danger, the kitchen was separated from the house itself. This kitchen never caught fire, probably because of its stone fireside. Everything was made here, on the farm by the slaves and servants: here is the butter churn, here the spices leaves were dried, and the bread was baked. Water was drawn from the well, and the garden also had vegetables.

Ghosts in the Tavern

We returned to the main street, and got to the Rising Sun Tavern, that was owned by Charles Washington, the first president kid brother. George himself used to hang out there. A big punch bowl was on the table, without any ladle or glass. This is how they drank, the gentlemen, directly from the bowl. A fish is painted on the bottom: whoever saw the fish first paid for refilling the bowl. We go to the room that was allocated for sailors, and lower class men. A big piece of cheese stands on the table, and just like the peanuts in the bars today, you can eat from it for free. The men who hang out here could rent a pipe, play checkers, chew tobacco, and spit it out too, of course. The alcoholic drinks were kept under bars, and the man who handled them was, of course, the bartender. The second guide was named Sue, and she insists she is 16, although she looks over 50. “I pay to the landlord for my ticket, from England to here, by working”’ she tell us. “In six years I’ll be free, and then I’ll get married, and if not, I’ll continue working here, for wages”. Turns out we arrived in a very decent inn, where only 5 people can sleep in one bed. When we get to the second floor, the inn floor, we understand why: the visitors sleep sitting, with their back to the wall. “We take care they will take there boots off, since we change the sheets here once or twice a year, and we want to keep it clean”, says Sue. Women could stay in a room allocated for them, and were even given water. If they needed to go to the bathroom, they called the maid, who brought them another bowl.

Towards the end of our visit, when she is asked about ghosts, Sue agrees to tell us about an event that occurred when she started working in the tavern: “One day, I noticed the rug in the ladies bedroom was wrinkled. I set it right. A minute later I went back in, and it was wrinkled again. I put it back, and it happened again. By the third time, I felt it was really pulling under my feet.  I turned around. There was nobody there”. It was the local ghost, John Fraiser, who was killed during a  squabble, so says the legend. I check out the room. It’s properly arranged. And the ghost? Maybe its gone with the wind.

 This is a pun: In Hebrew the same word (ru-ah) is used for “ghost” and “wind”