Dr. F. returned from the town, with apple-pies, cheese, and ale,

wherewith to vary our ship-diet. With him arrived such a number of

towns-people, that the steward wanted to turn us out of our cabin once

more; but we were sturdy, appealed to the captain, and were confirmed in

possession. From this time began the delights of our voyage. The moon,

with her long train of glory, was magnificent to-night; the vast body of

waters on which she shone being as calm as if the winds were dead.

The navigation of these lakes is, at present, a mystery. They have not

yet been properly surveyed. Our captain had gone to and fro on Lake

Huron, but had never before been on Lake Michigan; and this was rather

an anxious voyage to him. We had got aground on the sand-bar before

Milwaukee harbour; and on the 1st of July, all hands were busy in

unshipping the cargo, to lighten the vessel, instead of carrying her up

to the town. An elegant little schooner was riding at anchor near us;

and we were well amused in admiring her, and in watching the bustle on

deck, till some New-England youths, and our Milwaukee acquaintance,

brought us, from the shore, two newspapers, some pebbles, flowers, and a

pitcher of fine strawberries.

As soon as we were off the bar, the vessel hove round, and we cast

anchor in deeper water. Charley was called to see the sailors work the

windlass, and to have a ride thereon. The sailors were very kind to the

boy. They dressed up their dog for him in sheep-skins and a man's hat; a

sight to make older people than Charley laugh. They took him down into

the forecastle to show him prints that were pasted up there. They asked

him to drink rum and water with them: to which Charley answered that he

should be happy to drink water with them, but had rather not have any

rum. While we were watching the red sunset over the leaden waters,

betokening a change of weather, the steamer "New York" came ploughing

the bay, three weeks after her time; such is the uncertainty in the

navigation of these stormy lakes. She got aground on the sand-bank, as

we had done; and boats were going from her to the shore and back, as

long as we could see.

The next day there was rain and some wind. The captain and steward went

off to make final purchases: but the fresh meat which had been bespoken

for us had been bought up by somebody else; and no milk was to be had;

only two cows being visible in all the place. Ale was the only luxury we

could obtain. When the captain returned, he brought with him a stout

gentleman, one of the proprietors of the vessel, who must have a berth

in our cabin as far as Mackinaw; those elsewhere being too small for

him. Under the circumstances, we had no right to complain; so we helped

the steward to partition off a portion of the cabin with a counterpane,

fastened with four forks. This gentleman, Mr. D., was engaged in the fur

trade at Mackinaw, and had a farm there, to which he kindly invited us.

On Sunday, the 3rd, there was much speculation as to whether we should

be at Mackinaw in time to witness the celebration of the great day. All

desired it; but I was afraid of missing the Manitou Isles in the dark.

There was much fog; the wind was nearly fair; the question was whether

it would last. Towards evening, the fog thickened, and the wind

freshened. The mate would not believe we were in the middle of the lake,

as every one else supposed. He said the fog was too warm not to come

from near land. Charley caught something of the spirit of uncertainty,

and came to me in high, joyous excitement, to drag me to the side of the

ship, that I might see how fast we cut through the waves, and how

steadily we leaned over the water, till Charley almost thought he could

touch it. He burst out about the "kind of a feeling" that it was "not to

see a bit of land," and not to know where we were; and to think "_if_ we

should upset!" and that we never did upset:--it was "a good and a bad

feeling at once;" and he should never be able to tell people at home

what it was like. The boy had no fear: he was roused, as the brave man

loves to be. Just as the dim light of the sunset was fading from the

fog, it opened, and disclosed to us, just at hand, the high, sandy shore

of Michigan. It was well that this happened before dark. The captain

hastened up to the mast-head, and reported that we were off Cape Sable,

forty miles from the Manitou Isles.

Three bats and several butterflies were seen to-day, clinging to the

mainsail,--blown over from the shore. The sailors set their dog at a

bat, of which it was evidently afraid. A flock of pretty pigeons flew

round and over the ship; of which six were shot. Four fell into the

water; and the other two were reserved for the mate's breakfast; he

being an invalid.

We were up before five, on the morning of the 4th of July, to see the

Manitou Isles, which were then just coming in sight. They are the Sacred

Isles of the Indians, to whom they belong. Manitou is the name of their

Great Spirit, and of everything sacred. It is said that they believe

these islands to be the resort of the spirits of the departed. They are

two: sandy and precipitous at the south end; and clothed with wood, from

the crest of the cliffs to the north extremity, which slopes down

gradually to the water. It was a cool, sunny morning, and these dark

islands lay still, and apparently deserted, on the bright green waters.

Far behind, to the south, were two glittering white sails, on the

horizon. They remained in sight all day, and lessened the feeling of

loneliness which the navigators of these vast lakes cannot but have,

while careering among the solemn islands and shores. On our right lay

the Michigan shore, high and sandy, with the dark eminence, called the

Sleeping Bear, conspicuous on the ridge. No land speculators have set

foot here yet. A few Indian dwellings, with evergreen woods and sandy

cliffs, are all. Just here, Mr. D. pointed out to us a schooner of his

which was wrecked, in a snowstorm, the preceding November. She looked

pretty and forlorn, lying on her side in that desolate place, seeming a

mere plaything thrown in among the cliffs. "Ah!" said her owner, with a

sigh, "she was a lovely creature, and as stiff as a church." Two lives

were lost. Two young Germans, stout lads, could not comprehend the

orders given them to put on all their clothing, and keep themselves

warm. They only half-dressed themselves: "the cold took them," and they

died. The rest tried to make fire by friction of wood; but got only

smoke. Some one found traces of a dog in the snow. These were followed

for three miles, and ended at an Indian lodge, where the sailors were

warmed, and kindly treated.

During the bright morning of this day we passed the Fox and Beaver

Islands. The captain was in fine spirits, though there was no longer any

prospect of reaching Mackinaw in time for the festivities of the day.

This island is chiefly known as a principal station of the great

north-western fur trade. Others know it as the seat of an Indian

mission. Others, again, as a frontier garrison. It is known to me as the

wildest and tenderest little piece of beauty that I have yet seen on

God's earth. It is a small island, nine miles in circumference, being in

the strait between the Lakes Michigan and Huron, and between the coasts

of Michigan and Wisconsin.

Towards evening the Wisconsin coast came into view, the strait suddenly

narrowed, and we were about to bid farewell to the great Lake whose

total length we had traversed, after sweeping round its southern

extremity. The ugly light-ship, which looked heavy enough, came into

view about six o'clock; the first token of our approach to Mackinaw.

The office of the light-ship is to tow vessels in the dark through the

strait. We were too early for this; but perhaps it performed that office

for the two schooners whose white specks of sails had been on our

southern horizon all day. Next we saw a white speck before us; it was

the barracks of Mackinaw, stretching along the side of its green hills,

and clearly visible before the town came into view.

The island looked enchanting as we approached, as I think it always

must, though we had the advantage of seeing it first steeped in the most

golden sunshine that ever hallowed lake or shore. The colours were up on

all the little vessels in the harbour. The national flag streamed from

the garrison. The soldiers thronged the walls of the barracks;

half-breed boys were paddling about in their little canoes, in the

transparent waters; the half-French, half-Indian population of the place

were all abroad in their best. An Indian lodge was on the shore, and a

picturesque dark group stood beside it. The cows were coming down the

steep green slopes to the milking. Nothing could be more bright and

joyous.

The houses of the old French village are shabby-looking, dusky, and

roofed with bark. There are some neat yellow houses, with red shutters,

which have a foreign air, with their porches and flights of steps. The

better houses stand on the first of the three terraces which are

distinctly marked. Behind them are swelling green knolls; before them

gardens sloping down to the narrow slip of white beach, so that the

grass seems to grow almost into the clear rippling waves. The gardens

were rich with mountain ash, roses, stocks, currant bushes, springing

corn, and a great variety of kitchen vegetables. There were two small

piers with little barks alongside, and piles of wood for the

steam-boats. Some way to the right stood the quadrangle of missionary

buildings, and the white mission church. Still further to the right was

a shrubby precipice down to the lake; and beyond, the blue waters. While

we were gazing at all this, a pretty schooner sailed into the harbour

after us, in fine style, sweeping round our bows so suddenly as nearly

to swamp a little fleet of canoes, each with its pair of half-breed

boys.

We had been alarmed by a declaration from the captain that he should

stay only three hours at the island. He seemed to have no intention of

taking us ashore this evening. The dreadful idea occurred to us that we

might be carried away from this paradise, without having set foot in it.

We looked at each other in dismay. Mr. D. stood our friend. He had some

furs on board which were to be landed. He said this should not be done

till the morning; and he would take care that his people did it with the

utmost possible slowness. He thought he could gain us an additional hour

in this way. Meantime, thunder-clouds were coming up rapidly from the

west, and the sun was near its setting. After much consultation, and an

assurance having been obtained from the captain that we might command

the boat at any hour in the morning, we decided that Dr. F. and Charley

should go ashore, and deliver our letters, and accept any arrangements

that might be offered for our seeing the best of the scenery in the

morning.

Scarcely any one was left in the ship but Mrs. F. and myself. We sat on

deck, and gazed as if this were to be the last use we were ever to have

of our eyes. There was growling thunder now, and the church bell, and

Charley's clear voice from afar: the waters were so still. The Indians

lighted a fire before their lodge; and we saw their shining red forms

as they bent over the blaze. We watched Dr. F. and Charley mounting to

the garrison; we saw them descend again with the commanding officer, and

go to the house of the Indian agent. Then we traced them along the

shore, and into the Indian lodge; then to the church; then, the parting

with the commandant on the shore, and lastly, the passage of the dark

boat to our ship's side. They brought news that the commandant and his

family would be on the watch for us before five in the morning, and be

our guides to as much of the island as the captain would allow us time

to see.

Some pretty purchases of Indian manufactures were brought on board this

evening; light matting of various colours, and small baskets of

birch-bark, embroidered with porcupine-quills, and filled with maple

sugar.

The next morning all was bright. At five o'clock we descended the ship's

side, and from the boat could see the commandant and his dog hastening

down from the garrison to the landing-place. We returned with him up the

hill, through the barrack-yard; and were joined by three members of his

family on the velvet green slope behind the garrison. No words can give

an idea of the charms of this morning walk. We wound about in a vast

shrubbery, with ripe strawberries under foot, wild flowers all around,

and scattered knolls and opening vistas tempting curiosity in every

direction. "Now run up," said the commandant, as we arrived at the foot

of one of these knolls. I did so, and was almost struck backwards by

what I saw. Below me was the Natural Bridge of Mackinaw, of which I had

heard frequent mention. It is a limestone arch, about one hundred and

fifty feet high in the centre, with a span of fifty feet; one pillar

resting on a rocky projection in the lake, the other on the hill. We

viewed it from above, so that the horizon line of the lake fell behind

the bridge, and the blue expanse of waters filled the entire arch. Birch

and ash grew around the bases of the pillars, and shrubbery tufted the

sides, and dangled from the bridge. The soft rich hues in which the

whole was dressed seemed borrowed from the autumn sky.

But even this scene was nothing to one we saw from the fort, on the

crown of the island; old Fort Holmes, called Fort George when in the

possession of the British. I can compare it to nothing but to what Noah

might have seen, the first bright morning after the deluge. Such a

cluster of little paradises rising out of such a congregation of waters,

I can hardly fancy to have been seen elsewhere. The capacity of the

human eye seems here suddenly enlarged, as if it could see to the verge

of the watery creation. Blue, level waters appear to expand for

thousands of miles in every direction; wholly unlike any aspect of the

sea. Cloud shadows, and specks of white vessels, at rare intervals,

alone diversify it. Bowery islands rise out of it; bowery promontories

stretch down into it; while at one's feet lies the melting beauty which

one almost fears will vanish in its softness before one's eyes; the

beauty of the shadowy dells and sunny mounds, with browsing cattle, and

springing fruit and flowers. Thus, and no otherwise, would I fain think

did the world emerge from the flood. I was never before so unwilling to

have objects named. The essential unity of the scene seemed to be marred

by any distinction of its parts. But this feeling, to me new, did not

alter the state of the case; that it was Lake Huron that we saw

stretching to the eastward; Lake Michigan opening to the west; the

island of Bois Blanc, green to the brink in front; and Round Island and

others interspersed. I stood now at the confluence of those great

northern lakes, the very names of which awed my childhood; calling up,

as they did, images of the fearful red man of the deep pine-forest, and

the music of the moaning winds, imprisoned beneath the ice of winter.

How different from the scene, as actually beheld, dressed in verdure,

flowers, and the sunshine of a summer's morning!

It was breakfast-time when we descended to the barracks; and we

despatched a messenger to the captain to know whether we might breakfast

with the commandant. We sat in the piazza, and overlooked the village,

the harbour, the straits, and the white beach, where there were now four

Indian lodges. The island is so healthy that, according to the

commandant, people who want to die must go somewhere else. I saw only

three tombstones in the cemetery. The commandant has lost but one man

since he has been stationed at Mackinaw; and that was by drowning. I

asked about the climate; the answer was, "We have nine months winter,

and three months cold weather."

It would have been a pity to have missed the breakfast at the garrison,

which afforded a strong contrast with any we had seen for a week. We

concealed, as well as we could, our glee at the appearance of the rich

cream, the new bread and butter, fresh lake trout, and pile of

snow-white eggs.

There is reason to think that the mission is the least satisfactory part

of the establishment on this island. A great latitude of imagination or

representation is usually admitted on the subject of missions to the

heathen. The reporters of this one appear to be peculiarly imaginative.

I fear that the common process has here been gone through of attempting

to take from the savage the venerable and the true which he possessed,

and to force upon him something else which is to him neither venerable

nor true.

The Indians have been proved, by the success of the French among them,

to be capable of civilisation. Near Little Traverse, in the north-west

part of Michigan, within easy reach of Mackinaw, there is an Indian

village, full of orderly and industrious inhabitants, employed chiefly

in agriculture. The English and Americans have never succeeded with the

aborigines so well as the French; and it may be doubted whether the

clergy have been a much greater blessing to them than the traders.

It was with great regret that we parted with the commandant and his

large young family, and stepped into the boat to return to the ship. The

captain looked a little grave upon the delay which all his passengers

had helped to achieve. We sailed about nine. We were in great delight at

having seen Mackinaw, at having the possession of its singular imagery

for life: but this delight was at present dashed with the sorrow of

leaving it. I could not have believed how deeply it is possible to

regret a place, after so brief an acquaintance with it. We watched the

island as we rapidly receded, trying to catch the aspect of it which had

given it its name--the Great Turtle. Its flag first vanished: then its

green terraces and slopes, its white barracks, and dark promontories

faded, till the whole disappeared behind a headland and light-house of

the Michigan shore.

Lake Huron was squally, as usual. Little remarkable happened while we

traversed it. We enjoyed the lake trout. We occasionally saw the faint

outline of the Manitouline Islands and Canada. We saw a sunset which

looked very like the general conflagration having begun: the whole

western sky and water being as if of red flame and molten lead. This was

succeeded by paler fires. A yellow planet sank into the heaving waters

to the south; and the northern lights opened like a silver wheat-sheaf,

and spread themselves half over the sky. It is luxury to sail on Lake

Huron, and watch the northern lights.

On the 7th we were only twenty miles from the river St. Clair: but the

wind was "right ahead," and we did not reach the mouth of the river till

the evening of the 8th. The approach and entrance kept us all in a state

of high excitement, from the captain down to Charley. On the afternoon

of the 8th, Fort Gratiot and the narrow mouth of the St. Clair, became

visible. Our scope for tacking grew narrower, every turn. The captain

did not come to dinner; he kept the lead going incessantly. Two vessels

were trying with us for the mouth of the river. The American schooner

got in first, from being the smallest. The British vessel and ours

contested the point stoutly for a long while, sweeping round and

crossing each other, much as if they were dancing a minuet. A squall

came, and broke one of our chains, and our rival beat us. In the midst

of the struggle, we could not but observe that the sky was black as

night to windward; and that the captain cast momentary glances thither,

as if calculating how soon he must make all tight for the storm. The

British vessel was seen to have come to an anchor. Our sails were all

taken in, our anchor dropped, and a grim, silence prevailed. The waters

were flat as ice about the ship. The next moment, the sky-organ began to

blow in our rigging. Fort Gratiot was blotted out; then the woods; then

the other ship; then came the orderly march of the rain over the

myrtle-green waters; then the storm seized us. We could scarcely see

each others' faces, except for the lightning; the ship groaned, and

dragged her anchor, so that a second was dropped.

In twenty minutes, the sun gilded the fort, the woods, and the green,

prairie-like, Canada shore. On the verge of this prairie, under the

shelter of the forest, an immense herd of wild horses were seen

scampering, and whisking their long tails. A cloud of pigeons, in

countless thousands, was shadowing alternately the forests, the lake,

and the prairie; and an extensive encampment of wild Indians was

revealed on the Michigan shore. It was a dark curtain lifted up on a

scene of wild and singular beauty.

Then we went to the anxious work of tacking again. We seemed to be

running aground on either shore, as we approached each. Our motions were

watched by several gazers. On the Canada side, there were men on the

sands, and in a canoe, with a sail which looked twice as big as the

bark. The keepers of the Gratiot light-house looked out from the

lantern. A party of squaws, in the Indian encampment, seated on the

sands, stopped their work of cleaning fish, to see how we got through

the rapids. A majestic personage, his arms folded in his blanket, stood

on an eminence in the midst of the camp; and behind him, on the brow of

the hill, were groups of unclothed boys and men, looking so demon-like,

as even in that scene to remind me of the great staircase in the ballet

of Faust. Our ship twisted round and round in the eddies, as helplessly

as a log, and stuck, at last, with her stem within a stone's throw of

the Indians. Nothing more could be done that night. We dropped anchor,

and hoped the sailors would have good repose after two days of tacking

to achieve a progress of twenty miles. Two or three of them went ashore,

to try to get milk. While they were gone, a party of settlers stood on

the high bank, to gaze at us; and we were sorry to see them, even down

to the little children, whisking boughs without ceasing. This was a

threat of mosquitoes which was not to be mistaken. When the sailors

returned, they said we were sure to have a good watch kept, for the

mosquitoes would let no one sleep. We tried to shut up our cabin from

them; but they were already there: and I, for one, was answerable for

many murders before I closed my eyes. In the twilight, I observed

something stirring on the high bank; and on looking closely, saw a party

of Indians, stepping along, in single file, under the shadow of the

wood. Their simplest acts are characteristic; and, in their wild state,

I never saw them without thinking of ghosts or demons.

In the morning, I found we were floating down the current, stern

foremost, frequently swinging round in the eddies, so as to touch the

one shore or the other. There seemed to be no intermission of settlers'

houses; all at regular distances along the bank. The reason of this

appearance is a good old French arrangement, by which the land is

divided into long, narrow strips, that each lot may have a water

frontage. We were evidently returning to a well-settled country. The

more comfortable houses on the Canada side were surrounded by spacious

and thriving fields: the poorer by dreary enclosures of swamp. We saw a

good garden, with a white paling. Cows were being milked. Cow-bells, and

the merry voices of singing children, were heard from under the clumps;

and piles of wood for the steam-boats, and large stocks of shingles for

roofing were laid up on either hand. The Gratiot steamer puffed away

under the Michigan bank. Canoes shot across in a streak of light; and a

schooner came down the clear river, as if on the wing between the sky

and the water. I watched two horsemen on the shore, for many miles,

tracing the bay pony and the white horse through the woody screen, and

over the brooks, and along the rickety bridges. I could see that they

were constantly chatting, and that they stopped to exchange salutations

with every one they met or overtook. These, to be sure, were few enough.

I was quite sorry when the twilight drew on, and hid them from me. I saw

a little boy on a log, with a paddle, pushing himself off from a bank of

wild roses, and making his way in the sunshine, up the river. It looked

very pretty, and very unsafe; but I dare say he knew best. The captain

and mate were both ill to-day. The boat was sent ashore for what could

be had. The men made haste, and rowed bravely; but we were carried down

four miles before we could "heave to," for them to overtake us. They

brought brandy for the captain; and for us, butter just out of the

churn. The mosquitoes again drove us from the deck, soon after dark.

The next morning, the 10th, the deck was in great confusion. The captain

was worse: the mate was too ill to command; and the second mate seemed

to be more efficient in swearing, and getting the men to swear, than at

anything else. After breakfast, there was a search made after a

pilferer, who had abstracted certain small articles from our cabin;

among which was Charley's maple-sugar basket, which had been seen in the

wheel-house, with a tea-spoon in it. This seemed to point out one of the

juniors in the forecastle as the offender; the steward, however, offered

to clear himself by taking an oath, "on a bible as big as the ship,"

that he knew nothing of the matter. As we did not happen to have such a

bible on board, we could not avail ourselves of his offer. A comb and

tooth-brush, which had been missing, were found, restored to their

proper places: but Charley's pretty basket was seen no more.

It was a comfortless day. We seemed within easy reach of Detroit; but

the little wind we had was dead ahead; the sun was hot; the mosquitoes

abounded; the captain was downcast, and the passengers cross. There was

some amusement, however. Dr. F. went ashore, and brought us milk, of

which we each had a draught before it turned sour. He saw on shore a

sight which is but too common. An hotel-keeper let an Indian get drunk;

and then made a quarrel between him and another, for selfish purposes.

The whites seem to have neither honour nor mercy towards the red men.

A canoe full of Indians,--two men and four children,--came alongside,

this afternoon, to offer to traffic. They had no clothing but a coarse

shirt each. The smallest child had enormous ear-ornaments of blue and

white beads. They were closely packed in their canoe, which rocked with

every motion. They sold two large baskets for a quarter dollar and two

loaves of bread. Their faces were intelligent, and far from solemn. The

children look merry, as children should. I saw others fishing afar off,

till long after dark. A dusky figure stood, in a splendid attitude, at

the bow of a canoe, and now paddled with one end of his long lance, now

struck at a fish with the other. He speared his prey directly through

the middle; and succeeded but seldom. At dark, a pine torch was held

over the water; and by its blaze, I could still see something of his

operations.

The groaning of our ship's timbers told us, before we rose, that we were

in rapid motion. The wind was fair; and we were likely to reach Detroit,

forty miles, to dinner. Lake St. Clair, with its placid waters and low

shores, presents nothing to look at. The captain was very ill, and

unable to leave his berth. No one on board knew the channel of the

Detroit river but himself; and, from the time we entered it, the lead

was kept going. When we were within four miles of Detroit, hungry, hot,

tired of the disordered ship, and thinking of friends, breezes, and a

good dinner at the city, we went aground,--grinding, grinding, till the

ship trembled in every timber. The water was so shallow that one might

have touched the gravel on either side with a walking-stick. There was

no hope of our being got off speedily. The cook applied himself to

chopping wood, in order to lighting a fire, in order to baking some

bread, in order to give us something to eat; for not a scrap of meat, or

an ounce of biscuit, was left on board.

It occurred to me that our party might reach the city, either by paying

high for one of the ship's boats, or by getting the mate to hail one of

the schooners that were in the river. The boats could not be spared. The

mate hoisted a signal for a schooner; and one came alongside, very fully

laden with shingles. Fifteen of us, passengers, with our luggage, were

piled on the top of the cargo, and sailed gently up to the city. The

captain was too ill, and the mate too full of vexation, to bid us

farewell; and thus we left our poor ship. We were glad, however, to pass

her in the river, the next day, and to find that she had been got off

the shoal before night.

As we drew near, Charley, in all good faith, hung out his little

handkerchief to show the people of Detroit that we were come back. They

did not seem to know us, however. "What!" cried some men on a raft, to

the master of our schooner, "have you been robbing a steam-boat?" "No,"

replied the master, gravely; "it is a boat that has gone to the bottom

in the lakes." We expected that some stupendous alarm would arise out of

this. When we reached New York, a fortnight after, we found that our

friends there had been made uneasy by the news that a steam-boat had

sunk on the Lakes, and that eight hundred passengers were drowned.

Catastrophes grow as fast as other things in America.

Though our friends did not happen to see Charley's pocket-handkerchief

from the river, they were soon about us, congratulating us on having

made the circuit of the Lakes. It was indeed matter of congratulation.

I have now given sketches of some of the most remarkable parts of the

country, hoping that a pretty distinct idea might thus be afforded of

their primary resources, and of the modes of life of their inhabitants.

I have said nothing of the towns, in this connection; town-life in

America having nothing very peculiar about it, viewed in the way of

general survey. The several departments of industry will now be

particularly considered.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] I know not why I should suppress a name that I honour.

[9] Isaiah xvi. 3.

[10] It is possible that this term may not yet be familiar to some of my

English readers. It means summary punishment. The modes now in use among

those who take the law into their own hands in the United States, are

tarring and feathering, scourging with a cow-hide, banishing, and

hanging. The term owes its derivation to a farmer of the name of Lynch,

living on the Mississippi, who, in the absence of court and lawyers,

constituted himself a judge, and ordered summary punishment to be

inflicted on an offender. He little foresaw the national disgrace which

would arise from the extension of the practice to which he gave his

name.

[11] I preserve the original name, which is that of the first French

missionary who visited these parts. The place is now commonly called

Juliet; and a settlement near has actually been named Romeo: so that I

fear there is little hope of a restoration of the honourable primitive

name.

CHAPTER I.

AGRICULTURE.

"Plus un peuple nombreux se rapproche, moins le gouvernement peut

usurper sur le Souverain. L'avantage d'un gouvernement tyrannique

est donc en ceci, d'agir à grandes distances. A l'aide des points

d'appui qu'il se donne, sa force augmente au loin, comme celle des

léviers. Celle du peuple, au contraire, n'agit que concentrée: elle

s'évapore et se perd en s'étendant, comme l'effet de la poudre

éparse à terre, et qui ne prend feu que grain à grain. Les pays les

moins peuplés sont ainsi les plus propres à la tyrannie. Les bêtes

féroces ne règnent que dans les déserts."

_Rousseau._

The pride and delight of Americans is in their quantity of land. I do

not remember meeting with one to whom it had occurred that they had too

much. Among the many complaints of the minority, this was never one. I

saw a gentleman strike his fist on the table in an agony at the country

being so "confoundedly prosperous:" I heard lamentations over the spirit

of speculation; the migration of young men to the back country; the

fluctuating state of society from the incessant movement westwards; the

immigration of labourers from Europe; and the ignorance of the sparse

population. All these grievances I heard perpetually complained of; but

in the same breath I was told in triumph of the rapid sales of land; of

the glorious additions which had been made by the acquisition of

Louisiana and Florida, and of the probable gain of Texas. Land was

spoken of as the unfailing resource against over manufacture; the great

wealth of the nation; the grand security of every man in it.

On this head, the two political parties seem to be more agreed than on

any other. The federalists are the great patrons of commerce; but they

are as proud of the national lands as the broadest of the democrats. The

democrats, however, may be regarded as the patrons of agriculture, out

of the slave States. There seems to be a natural relation between the

independence of property and occupation enjoyed by the agriculturist,

and his watchfulness over State Rights and the political importance of

individuals. The simplicity of country life, too, appears more congenial

with the workings of democratic institutions, than the complex

arrangements of commerce and manufactures.

The possession of land is the aim of all action, generally speaking, and

the cure for all social evils, among men in the United States. If a man

is disappointed in politics or love, he goes and buys land. If he

disgraces himself, he betakes himself to a lot in the west. If the

demand for any article of manufacture slackens, the operatives drop into

the unsettled lands. If a citizen's neighbours rise above him in the

towns, he betakes himself where he can be monarch of all he surveys. An

artisan works, that he may die on land of his own. He is frugal, that he

may enable his son to be a landowner. Farmers' daughters go into

factories that they may clear off the mortgage from their fathers'

farms; that they may be independent landowners again. All this is

natural enough in a country colonised from an old one, where land is so

restricted in quantity as to be apparently the same thing as wealth. It

is natural enough in a young republic, where independence is of the

highest political value. It is natural enough in a country where

political economy has never been taught by its only effectual

propounder--social adversity. And, finally, it falls out well for the

old world, in prospect of the time when the new world must be its

granary.

The democratic party are fond of saying that the United States are

intended to be an agricultural country. It seems to me that they are

intended to be everything. The Niagara basin, the Mississippi valley,

and the South, will be able to furnish the trading world with

agricultural products for ever,--for aught we can see. But it is clear

that there are other parts of the country which must have recourse to

manufactures and commerce.

The first settlers in New England got land, and thought themselves rich.

Their descendants have gone on to do the same; and they now find

themselves poor. With the exception of some Southerners, ruined by

slavery, who cannot live within their incomes, I met with no class in

the United States so anxious about the means of living as the farmers of

New England. In the seventeenth century, curious purchases of land were

made, and the fathers were wealthy. In those days, a certain farmer

Dexter bought the promontory of Nahant, which stretches out into

Massachusetts Bay, of Black Willey, an Indian chief, for a suit of

clothes; the part of the promontory called Great Nahant measuring a mile

and a half in circuit. Others, who held land in similar or larger

quantities, divided it equally among their children, whose portions had

not been subdivided below the point of comfort, when the great west on

the one hand, and the commerce of the seas on the other, opened new

resources. From this time, the consolidation of estates has gone on,

nearly as fast as the previous division. The members of a family

dispose of their portions of land to one, and go to seek better fortunes

elsewhere than the rocky soil of New England can afford. Still, while

the population of Massachusetts is scarcely above half that of London,

its number of landowners is greater than that of all England.

The Massachusetts farmers were the first to decline; but now the

comparative adversity of agriculture has extended even into Vermont. A

few years ago, lenders of money into Vermont received thirty per cent.

interest from farmers: now they are glad to get six per cent.; and this

does not arise from the farmers having saved capital of their own. They

have but little property besides their land. Their daughters, and even

their sons, resort to domestic service in Boston for a living. Boston

used to be supplied from Vermont with fowls, butter, and eggs: but the

supply has nearly ceased. This is partly owing to an increased attention

to the growth of wool for the manufacturers; but partly also to the

decrease of capital and enterprise among the farmers.

In Massachusetts the farmers have so little property besides their land,

that they are obliged to mortgage when they want to settle a son or

daughter, or make up for a deficient crop. The great Insurance Company

at Boston is the formidable creditor to many. This Company will not wait

a day for the interest. If it is not ready, loss or ruin ensues. Many

circumstances are now unfavourable to the old-fashioned Massachusetts

farmer. Domestic manufactures, which used to employ the daughters, are

no longer worth while, in the presence of the factories. The young men,

who should be the daughters' husbands, go off to the west. The idea of

domestic service is not liked. There is an expensive family at home,

without sufficient employment; and they may be considered poor. These

are evils which may be shaken off any day. I speak of them, not as

demanding much compassion, but as indicating a change in the state of

affairs; and especially that New England is designed to be a

manufacturing and commercial region. It is already common to see

agriculture joined with other employments. The farmers of the coast are,

naturally, fishermen also. They bring home fish, manure their land with

the offal; sow their seed, and go out again to fish while it is growing.

Shoemaking is now joined with farming. In the long winter evenings, all

the farmers' families around Lynn are busy shoe-making; and in the

spring, they turn out into the fields again. The largest proportion of

factory girls too is furnished by country families.

The traveller may see, by merely passing through the country, without

asking information, how far New England ought to be an agricultural

country, if the object of its society be to secure the comfort of its

members, rather than the continuance of old customs. The valleys, like

that of the Connecticut river, whose soil is kept rich by annual

inundations, and whose fields have no fences, gladden the eye of the

observer. So it is with particular spots elsewhere, where, it may be

remarked, the fences are of the ordinary, slovenly kind, and too much

care does not seem to have been bestowed on the arrangements and economy

of the estate. Elsewhere, may be seen stony fields, plots of the

greenest pasture, with grey rocks standing up in the midst, and barberry

bushes sprinkled all about: trim orchards, and fences on which a great

deal of spare time must have been bestowed. Instead of the ugly, hasty

snake-fence, there is a neatly built wall, composed of the stones which

had strewed the fields: sometimes the neatest fence of all; a wall of

stones and sods, regularly laid, with a single rail along the top:

sometimes a singular fence, which would be perfect, but for the expense

of labour required; roots of trees, washed from the soil, and turned

side upwards, presenting a complete chevaux-de-frise, needing no

mending, and lasting the "for ever" of this world. About these

farm-houses, a profusion of mignonette may be seen; and in the season,

the rich major convolvulus, or scarlet runners, climbing up to the

higher windows. The dove-cotes are well looked to. There has evidently

been time and thought for everything. This is all very pretty to look

at,--even bewitching to those who do not see beneath the surface, nor

know that hearts may be aching within doors about perilous mortgages,

and the fate of single daughters; but, it being known that such worldly

anxieties do exist, it is not difficult to perceive that these are the

places in which they abide.

There is, of course, a knowledge of the difficulty on the spot; but not

always a clear view of coming events, which include a remedy. The

commonest way of venting any painful sensibility on the subject, is

declamation against luxury; or rather, against the desire for it in

those who are supposed unable to afford it. This will do no good. If the

Pilgrim Fathers themselves had had luxury before their eyes, they would

have desired to have it; and they would have been right. Luxury is, in

itself, a great good. Luxury is _delicious fare_,--of any and every

kind: and He who bestowed it meant all men to have it. The evil of

luxury is in its restriction; in its being made a cause of separation

between men, and a means of encroachment by some on the rights of

others. Frugality is a virtue only when it is required by justice and

charity. Luxury is vicious only when it is obtained by injustice, and

carried on into intemperance. It is a bad thing that a Massachusetts

farmer should mortgage his farm, in order that his wife and daughters

may dress like the ladies of Boston; but the evil is not in the dress;

it is rather in his clinging to a mode of life which does not enable him

to pay his debts. The women desire dress, not only because it is

becoming, but because they revolt from sinking, even outwardly, into a

lower station of life than they once held: and this is more than

harmless; it is honourable. What they have to do is to make up their

minds to be consistent. They must either go down with their farm, for

love of it, and the ways which belong to it: or they must make a better

living in some other manner. They cannot have the old farm and its ways,

and luxury too. Nobody has a right to decide for them which they ought

to choose; and declaiming against luxury will therefore do no good. It

is, however, pretty clear which they will choose, while luxury and

manufactures are growing before their eyes; and, in that case,

declaiming against luxury can do little but harm: it will only destroy

sympathy between the declaimers and those who may find the cap fit.

One benevolent lady strongly desires and advises that manufactures

should be put down; and the increased population all sent away

somewhere, that New England may be as primitive and sparsely peopled as

in days when it was, as she supposes, more virtuous than now. Whenever

she can make out what virtue is, so as to prove that New England was

ever more virtuous than now, her plans may find hearers; but not till

then. I mention these things merely to show how confirmed is the

tendency of New England to manufactures, in preference to agriculture.

There is one certain test of the permanent fitness of any district of

country for agricultural purposes; the settlement of any large number of

Germans in it. The Germans give any price for good land, and use it

all. They are much smiled at by the vivacious and enterprising Americans

for their plodding, their attachment to their own methods, and the odd

direction taken by their pride.[12] The part of Pennsylvania where they

abound is called the Boeotia of America. There is a story current

against them that they were seen to parade with a banner, on which was

inscribed "No schools," when the State legislature was about

establishing a school system. On the other hand, it is certain that they

have good German newspapers prepared among themselves: that their

politics do them high honour, considering the very short political

education they have had: and that they know more of political economy

than their native neighbours. They show by their votes that they

understand the tariff and bank questions; and they are staunch

supporters of democratic principles.

Nothing can be more thriving than the settlements of Germans, when they

have once been brought into order. Their fields are well fenced; their

implements of the most substantial make; and their barns a real

curiosity. While the family of the farmer is living in a poor log-house,

or a shabby, unpainted frame-house, the barn has all the pains of its

owner lavished upon it. I saw several, freshly painted with red, with

eleven glass windows, with venetian blinds, at each end, and twelve in

front. They keep up the profitable customs of their country. The German

women are the only women seen in the fields and gardens in America,

except a very few Dutch, and the slaves in the south. The stores of

pumpkins, apples, and onions in the stoup (piazza) are edifying to

behold. Under them sits the old dame of the house, spinning at her large

wheel; and her grand-children, all in grey homespun, look as busy as

herself.

The German settlers always contrive to have a market, either by placing

themselves near one, or bestirring themselves to make one. They have no

idea of sitting down in a wilderness, and growing wild in it. A great

many of them are market-gardeners near the towns.[13]

It is scarcely possible to foresee, with distinctness, the destination

of the southern States, east of the Alleghanies, when the curse of

slavery shall be removed. Up to that period, continual deterioration is

unavoidable. Efforts are being made to compensate for the decline of

agriculture by pushing the interests of commerce. This is well; for the

"opening" of every new rail-road, of every new pier, is another blow

given to slavery. The agriculture of Virginia continues to decline; and

her revenue is chiefly derived from the rearing of slaves as stock for

the southern market. In the north and west parts of this State, where

there is more farming than planting, it has long been found that slavery

is ruinous; and when I passed through, in the summer of 1835, I saw

scarcely any but whites, for some hundreds of miles along the road,

except where a slave trader was carrying down to the south the remains

that he had bought up. Unless some new resource is introduced, Virginia

will be almost impoverished when the traffic in slaves comes to an end;

which, I have a strong persuasion, will be the case before very long.

The Virginians themselves are, it seems, aware of their case. I saw a

factory at Richmond, worked by black labour, which was found, to the

surprise of those who tried the experiment, to be of very good quality.

The shores of the south, low and shoaly, are unfavourable to foreign

commerce. The want of a sufficiency of good harbours will probably impel

the inhabitants of the southern States to renew their agricultural

pursuits, and merely confine themselves to internal commerce. The

depression of agriculture is only temporary, I believe. It began from

slavery, and is aggravated by the opening of the rich virgin soils of

the south-west. But the time will come when improved methods of tillage,

with the advantage of free labour, will renew the prosperity of

Virginia, and North and South Carolina.

No mismanagement short of employing slaves will account for the

deterioration of the agricultural wealth of these States. When the

traveller observes the quality of some of the land now under

cultivation, he wonders how other estates could have been rendered so

unprofitable as they are. The rich Congaree bottoms, in South Carolina,

look inexhaustible; but some estates, once as fine, now lie barren and

deserted. I went over a plantation, near Columbia, South Carolina, where

there were four thousand acres within one fence, each acre worth fifteen

hundred dollars. This land has been cropped yearly with cotton since

1794, and is now becoming less productive; but it is still very fine.

The cotton seed is occasionally returned to the soil; and this is the

only means of renovation used. Four hundred negroes work this estate. We

saw the field trenched, ready for sowing. The sowing is done by hand,

thick, and afterwards thinned. I saw the cotton elsewhere, growing like

twigs. I saw also some in pod. There are three or four pickings of pods

in a season; of which the first gathering is the best. Each estate has

its cotton press. In the gin, the seed is separated from the cotton; and

the latter is pressed and packed for sale.

There seems nothing to prevent the continuance or renovation of the

growth of this product, under more favourable circumstances. Whether the

rice swamps will have to be given up, or whether they may be tilled by

free black labour, remains to be seen. The Chinese grow rice; and so do

the Italians, without the advantage of free black labour. If, in the

worst case, the rice swamps should have to be relinquished, the loss

would be more than compensated by the improvement which would take place

in the farming districts; land too high for planting. The western,

mountainous parts of these States would thus become the most valuable.

It was amusing to hear the praises of corn (Indian corn) in the midst of

the richest cotton, rice, and tobacco districts. The Indian looks with

silent wonder upon the settler, who becomes visibly a capitalist in nine

months, on the same spot where the red man has remained equally poor,

all his life. In February, both are alike bare of all but land, and a

few utensils. By the end of the next November, the white settler has his

harvest of corn; more valuable to him than gold and silver. It will

procure him many things which they could not. A man who has corn, may

have everything. He can sow his land with it; and, for the rest,

everything eats corn, from slave to chick. Yet, in the midst of so much

praise of corn, I found that it cost a dollar a bushel; that every one

was complaining of the expenses of living; that, so far from mutton

being despised, as we have been told, it was much desired, but not to be

had; and that milk was a great rarity. Two of us, in travelling, asked

for a draught of milk. We had each a very small tumbler-full, and were

charged a quarter-dollar. The cultivation of land is as exclusively for

exportable products, as in the West Indies, in the worst days of their

slavery; when food, and even bricks for building, were imported from

England. The total absence of wise rural economy, under the present

system, opens great hope of future improvement. The forsaken plantations

are not so exhausted of their resources as it is supposed, from their

producing little cotton, that they must be. The deserted fields may yet

be seen, some day, again fruitful in cotton, with corn-fields,

pasturage, and stock, (not human,) flourishing in appropriate spots.

Adversity is the best teacher of economy here, as elsewhere. In the

first flush of prosperity, when a proprietor sits down on a rich virgin

soil, and the price of cotton is rising, he buys bacon and corn for his

negroes, and other provisions for his family, and devotes every rod of

his land to cotton-growing. I knew of one in Alabama, who, like his

neighbours, paid for his land and the maintenance of his slaves with the

first crop, and had a large sum over, wherewith to buy more slaves and

more land. He paid eight thousand dollars for his land, and all the

expenses of the establishment, and had, at the end of the season, eleven

thousand dollars in the bank. It was thought, by a wise friend of this

gentleman's, that it was a great injury, instead of benefit to his

fortune, that his labourers were not free. To use this wise man's

expression, "it takes two white men to make a black man work;" and he

was confident that it was not necessary, on any pretence whatever, to

have a single slave in Alabama. Where all the other elements of

prosperity exist, as they do in that rich new State, any quality and

amount of labour might be obtained, and the permanent prosperity of the

country might be secured. If matters go on as they are, Alabama will in

time follow the course of the south-eastern States, and find her

production of cotton declining; and she will have to learn a wiser

husbandry by vicissitude. But matters will not go on as they are to that

point. Cotton-growing is advancing rapidly in other parts of the world

where there is the advantage of cheap, free labour; and the southern

States of America will find themselves unable to withstand the

competition of rivals whom they now despise, but by the use of free

labour, and of the improved management which will accompany it. There is

already a great importation of mules for field work from the higher

western States. Who knows but that in time there may be cattle-shows,

(like those of the more prosperous rural districts of the north,) where

there are now slave markets; or at least agricultural societies, whereby

the inhabitants may be put in the way of obtaining tender "sheep's

meat," while cotton may be grown more plentifully than even at present?

I saw at Charleston the first great overt act of improvement that I am

aware of in South Carolina. One step has been taken upwards; and when I

saw it, I could only wish that the slaves in the neighbourhood could

see, as clearly as a stranger could, the good it portended to them. It

is nothing more than that an enterprising gentleman has set up a

rice-mill, and that he avails himself to the utmost of its capabilities;

but this is made much of in that land of small improvement; as it ought

to be. The chaff is used to enrich the soil: and the proprietor has made

lot after lot of bad land very profitable for sale with it, and is thus

growing rapidly rich. The sweet flour, which lies between the husk and

the grain, is used for fattening cattle. The broken rice is sold cheap;

and the rest finds a good market. There are nine persons employed in the

mill, some white and some black; and many more are busy in preparing the

lots of land, and in building on them. Clusters of houses have risen up

around the mill.

Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana, present the extreme case of the

fertility of the soil, the prosperity of proprietors, and the woes of

slaves. I found the Virginians spoke with sorrow and contempt of the

treatment of slaves in North and South Carolina: South Carolina and

Georgia, of the treatment of slaves in the richer States to the west:

and, in these last, I found the case too bad to admit of aggravation. It

was in these last that the most heart-rending disclosures were made to

me by the ladies, heads of families, of the state of society, and of

their own intolerable sufferings in it. As I went further north again, I

found an improvement. There was less wealth in the hands of individuals,

a better economy, more intelligent slaves, and more discussion how to

get rid of slavery. Tennessee is, in some sort, naturally divided on the

question. The eastern part of the State is hilly, and fit for farming;

for which slave labour does not answer. The western part is used for

cotton-planting; and the planters will not yet hear of free labour. The

magnificent State of Kentucky has no other drawback to its prosperity

than slavery; and its inhabitants are so far convinced of this that they

will, no doubt, soon free themselves from it. They cannot look across

the river, and witness the prosperity of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio,

without being aware that, with their own unequalled natural advantages,

they could not be so backward as they are, from any other cause.

Kentucky is equally adapted for agriculture and commerce. She may have

ports on the rivers, along her whole northern and western boundary; and

she has already roads superior to almost any in the United States. She

is rich in stone, and many other minerals; in mineral waters, and in a

soil of unsurpassed fertility. The State is more thickly settled than is

evident to the passing traveller; and the effect will appear when more

markets, or roads to existing markets, are opened. In one small county

which I visited, my host and his brother had farms of fifteen hundred

acres each; and there were two hundred and fifty other farms in the

county. Sometimes these farms are divided among the children. More

commonly, all the sons but one go elsewhere to settle. In this case, the

homestead is usually left to the youngest son, who is supposed likely to

be the most attached to the surviving parent.

The estates of the two brothers, mentioned above, comprising three

thousand acres, were bought of the Indians for a rifle. We passed a

morning in surveying the one which is a grazing farm. There is a good

red-brick house for the family: and the slave-quarter is large. Nothing

can be more beautiful than the aspect of the estate, from the richness

of its vegetation, and the droves of fine cattle that were to be seen

everywhere. I never saw finer cattle. The owner had just refused sixty

dollars apiece for fourteen of them. Fifteen acres of the forest are

left for shade; and there, and under single oaks in the cleared pasture,

were herds of horses and mules, and three donkeys; the only ones I saw

in the United States.

We passed an unshaded meadow, where the grass had caught fire every day

at eleven o'clock, the preceding summer. This demonstrates the necessity

of shade.

We passed "a spontaneous rye-field." I asked what "spontaneous" meant

here; and found that a fine crop of rye had been cut the year before;

and that the nearly equally fine one now before us had grown up from the

dropped seed.

We enjoyed the thought of the abundance of milk here, after the dearth

we had suffered in the South. Forty cows are milked for the use of the

family and the negroes, and are under the care of seven women. The

proprietor declared to me that he believed his slaves would drive him

mad. Planters, who grow but one product, suffer much less from the

incapacity and perverse will of their negroes: the care of stock is

quite another matter; and for any responsible service, slaves are

totally unfit.

Instead of living being cheaper on country estates, from the necessaries

of life being raised on them, it appears to be much more expensive. This

is partly owing to the prevailing pride of having negroes to show. One

family, of four persons, of my acquaintance, in South Carolina, whose

style of living might be called homely, cannot manage to live for less

than three thousand dollars a year. They have a carriage and eleven

negroes. It is cheaper in Kentucky. In the towns, a family may live in

good style for two thousand five hundred dollars a year; and for no

great deal more in the country. A family entered upon a good house, near

a town, with one hundred and twenty acres of land, a few years ago, at a

rent of three hundred dollars. They bought house and land, and brought

their slaves, and now live, exclusive of rent and hire of servants, for

two thousand dollars a year, in greater numbers and much higher style

than the South Carolina family.

The prospects of agriculture in the States north-west of the Ohio are

brilliant. The stranger who looks upon the fertile prairies of Illinois

and Indiana, and the rich alluvions of Ohio, feels the iniquity of the

English corn laws as strongly as in the alleys of Sheffield and

Manchester. The inhuman perverseness of taxing food is there evident in

all its enormity. The world ought never to hear of a want of food,--no

one of the inhabitants of its civilised portions ought ever to be

without the means of obtaining his fill, while the mighty western valley

smiles in its fertility. If the aristocracy of England, for whom those

laws were made, and by whom they are sustained, could be transported to

travel, in open wagons, the boundless prairies, and the shores of the

great rivers which would bring down the produce, they would groan to see

from what their petty, selfish interests had shut out the thousands of

half-starved labourers at home. If they could not be convinced of the

very plain truth, of how their own fortunes would be benefited by

allowing the supply and demand of food to take their natural course,

they would, for the moment, wish their rent-rolls at the bottom of the

sea, rather than that they should stand between the crowd of labourers

and the supply of food which God has offered them. The landlords of

England do not go and see the great western valley; but, happily, some

of the labourers of England do. Far off as that valley is, those

labourers will make themselves heard from thence, by those who have

driven them there; and will teach the brethren whom they have left

behind where the blame of their hunger lies. Every British settler who

ploughs a furrow in the prairie, helps to plough up the foundations of

the British Corn Laws.

There is a prospect, not very uncertain or remote, of these prairie

lands bringing relief to a yet more suffering class than either English

labourers or landlords; the sugar-growing slaves of the south. Rumours

of the progress of sugar-making from beet in France have, for some time

past, been interesting many persons in the United States; especially

capitalists inclined to speculate, and the vigilant friends of the

slave. Information has been obtained, and some trials made. Individuals

have sown ten acres and upwards each, and manufactured sugar with a

small apparatus. The result has been encouraging; and a large

manufactory was to be opened in Philadelphia on the 1st of November

last. Two large joint-stock companies have been founded, one in New

Jersey and the other in Illinois. Their proceedings have been quickened

by the frosts of several successive seasons, which have so cut off the

canes in the south, as that it cannot supply one quarter of the domestic

consumption: whereas it had previously supplied half. Some of the

southern newspapers have recommended the substitution of beet for canes.

However soon this may be done, the northern sugar planters, with their

free labour, will surely overpower the south in the competition. This is

on the supposition that beet will answer as well as canes; a supposition

which will have Bern granted whenever the south begins to grow beet in

preference to canes.

A heavy blow would be inflicted on slavery by the success of the beet

companies. The condition of the cane-growing slaves cannot be made worse

than it is. I believe that even in the West Indies it has never been so

dreadful as at present in some parts of Louisiana. A planter stated to a

sugar-refiner in New York, that it was found the best economy to _work

off_ the stock of negroes once in seven years.

The interest excited by this subject of beet-growing is very strong

throughout the United States. Some result must ensue which will be an

instigation to further action. The most important would be the inducing

in the south either the use of free labour in sugar-growing, or the

surrender of an object so fatal to decent humanity.

The prettiest amateur farm I saw was that of the late Dr. Hosack, at

Hyde Park, on the Hudson. Dr. Hosack had spared no pains to improve his

stock, and his methods of farming, as well as the beauty of his

pleasure-grounds. His merits in the former departments the agricultural

societies in England are much better qualified to appreciate than I; and

they seem to have valued his exertions; to judge by the medals and other

honourable testimonials from them which he showed to me. As for his

pleasure-grounds, little was left for the hand of art to do. The natural

terrace above the river, green, sweeping, and undulating, is

surpassingly beautiful. Dr. Hosack's good taste led him to leave it

alone, and to spend his pains on the gardens and conservatory behind. Of

all the beautiful country-seats on the Hudson, none can, I think, equal

Hyde Park; though many bear a more imposing appearance from the river.

Though I twice traversed the western part of the State of New York, I

did not see the celebrated farm of Mr. Wadsworth; the finest, by all

accounts, in the United States. The next best thing to seeing it was

hearing Mr. Wadsworth talk about it,--especially of its hospitable

capabilities. This only increased my regret at being unable to visit it.

The most remarkable order of land-owners that I saw in the United States

was that of the Shakers and the Rappites; both holding all their

property in common, and both enforcing celibacy. The interest which

would be felt by the whole of society in watching the results of a

community of property is utterly destroyed by the presence of the other

distinction; or rather of the ignorance and superstition of which it is

the sign.

The moral and economical principles of these societies ought to be most

carefully distinguished by the observer. This being done, I believe it

will be found that whatever they have peculiarly good among them is

owing to the soundness of their economical principles; whatever they

have that excites compassion, is owing to the badness of their moral

arrangements.

I visited two Shaker communities in Massachusetts. The first was at

Hancock, consisting of three hundred persons, in the neighbourhood of

another at Lebanon, consisting of seven hundred persons. There are

fifteen Shaker establishments or "families" in the United States, and

their total number is between five and six thousand. There is no

question of their entire success, as far as wealth is concerned. A very

moderate amount of labour has secured to them in perfection all the

comforts of life that they know how to enjoy, and as much wealth besides

as would command the intellectual luxuries of which they do not dream.

The earth does not show more flourishing fields, gardens, and orchards,

than theirs. The houses are spacious, and in all respects

unexceptionable. The finish of every external thing testifies to their

wealth, both of material and leisure. The floor of their place of

worship, (the scene of their peculiar exercises,) the roofs of their

houses, their stair-carpets, the feet of their chairs, the springs of

their gates, and their spitting-boxes,--for even these neat people have

spitting-boxes--show a nicety which is rare in America. Their table fare

is of the very best quality. We had depended on a luncheon among them,

and were rather alarmed at the refusal we met, when we pleaded our long

ride and the many hours that we should have to wait for refreshment, if

they would not furnish us with some. They urged, reasonably enough, that

a steady rule was necessary, subject as the community was to visits from

the company at Lebanon Springs. They did not want to make money by

furnishing refreshments, and did not desire the trouble. For once,

however, they kindly gave way; and we were provided with delicious

bread, molasses, butter, cheese and wine; all homemade, of course. If

happiness lay in bread and butter, and such things, these people have

attained the _summum bonum_. Their store shows what they can produce for

sale. A great variety of simples, of which they sell large quantities to

London; linen-drapery, knitted wares, sieves, baskets, boxes, and

confectionary; palm and feather fans, pin-cushions, and other such

trifles; all these may be had in some variety, and of the best quality.

If such external provision, with a great amount of accumulated wealth

besides, is the result of co-operation and community of property among

an ignorant, conceited, inert society like this, what might not the same

principles of association achieve among a more intelligent set of

people, stimulated by education, and exhilarated by the enjoyment of all

the blessings which Providence has placed within the reach of man?

The wealth of the Shakers is not to be attributed to their celibacy.

They are receiving a perpetual accession to their numbers from among the

"world's people," and these accessions are usually of the most

unprofitable kind. Widows with large families of young children, are

perpetually joining the community, with the view of obtaining a

plentiful subsistence with very moderate labour. The increase of their

numbers does not lead to the purchase of more land. They supply their

enlarged wants by the high cultivation of the land they have long

possessed; and the superfluity of capital is so great that it is

difficult to conceive what will be done with it by a people so nearly

dead to intellectual enjoyments. If there had been no celibacy among

them, they would probably have been far more wealthy than they are; the

expenses of living in community being so much less, and the produce of

co-operative labour being so much greater than in a state of division

into families. The truth of these last positions can be denied by none

who have witnessed the working of a co-operative system. The problem is

to find the principle by which all shall be induced to labour their

share. Any such principle being found, the wealth of the community

follows of course.

Whether any principle to this effect can be brought to bear upon any

large class of society in the old world, is at present the most

important dispute, perhaps, that is agitating society. It will never now

rest till it has been made matter of experiment. If a very low principle

has served the purpose, for a time at least, in the new world, there

seems much ground for expectation that a far higher one may be found to

work as well in the more complicated case of English society. There is,

at least, every encouragement to try. While there are large classes of

people here whose condition can hardly be made worse; while the present

system (if such it may be called) imposes care on the rich, excessive

anxiety on the middle classes, and desperation on the poor: while the

powerful are thus, as it were, fated to oppress; the strivers after

power to circumvent and counteract; and the powerless to injure, it

seems only reasonable that some section, at least, of this warring

population should make trial of the peaceful principles which are

working successfully elsewhere. The co-operative methods of the Shakers

and Rappites might be tried without any adoption of their spiritual

pride and cruel superstition. These are so far from telling against the

system, that they prompt the observer to remark how much has been done

in spite of such obstacles.

There must be something sound in the principles on which these people

differ from the rest of the world, or they would not work at all; but

the little that is vital is dreadfully encumbered with that which is

dead. Like all religious persuasions from which one differs, that of the

Shakers appears more reasonable in conversation, and in their daily

actions, than on paper and at a distance. In actual life, the absurd and

peculiar recedes before the true and universal; but, I own, I have never

witnessed more visible absurdity than in the way of life of the Shakers.

The sound part of their principle is the same as that which has

sustained all devotees; and with it is joined a spirit of fellowship

which makes them more in the right than the anchorites and friars of

old. This is all. Their spiritual pride, their insane vanity, their

intellectual torpor, their mental grossness, are melancholy to witness.

Reading is discouraged among them. Their thoughts are full of the one

subject of celibacy: with what effect, may be easily imagined. Their

religious exercises are disgustingly full of it. It cannot be otherwise:

for they have no other interesting subject of thought beyond their daily

routine of business; no objects in life, no wants, no hopes, no novelty

of experience whatever. Their life is all dull work and no play.

The women, in their frightful costume, close opaque caps, and drab gowns

of the last degree of tightness and scantiness, are nothing short of

disgusting. They are averse to the open air and exercise; they are

pallid and spiritless. They look far more forlorn and unnatural than the

men. Their soulless stare at us, before their worship began, was almost

as afflicting as that of the lowest order of slaves; and, when they

danced, they were like so many galvanised corpses. I had been rather

afraid of not being able to keep my countenance during this part of

their worship; but there was no temptation to laugh. It was too shocking

for ridicule. Three men stood up, shouting a monotonous tune, and

dangling their crossed hands, with a pawing motion, to keep time, while

the rest danced, except some old women and young children, who sat out.

The men stamped, and the women jerked, with their arms hanging by their

sides; they described perpetually the figure of a square; the men and

boys on one side, the women and girls on the other. There were prayers

besides, and singing, and a sermon. This last was of a better quality

than usual, I understood. It was (of all improbable subjects) on

religious liberty, and contained nothing outrageously uncommon, except

the proposition that the American revolution had drawn the last of the

teeth of the red dragon.

It is not to be supposed that the children who are carried in by their

widowed, or indolent, or poor, or superstitious parents, are always

acquiescent in their destination. I saw many a bright face within the

prim cap-border, which bore a prophecy of a return to the world; and two

of the boys stamped so vigorously in the dance, that it was impossible

to imagine their feelings to be very devotional. The story of one often

serves as an index to the hearts of many. I knew of a girl who was

carried into a Shaker community by her widowed mother, and subjected

early to its discipline. It was hateful to her. One Sunday, when she

was, I believe, about sixteen, she feigned illness, to avoid going to

worship. When she believed every one else gone, she jumped out of a low

window, and upon the back of a pony which happened to be in the field.

She rode round and round the enclosure, without saddle or bridle, and

then re-entered the house. She had been observed, and was duly

reprimanded. She left the community in utter weariness and disgust. A

friend of mine, in a neighbouring village, took the girl into her

service. She never settled well in service, being too proud for the

occupation; and she actually went back to the same community, and is

there still, for no better reason than the saving of her pride. Her old

teachers had, it thus appeared, obtained an influence over her,

notwithstanding the tyranny of their discipline; and it had not been of

a wholesome moral nature. But no more words are necessary to show how

pride, and all other selfishness, must flourish in a community which

religiously banishes all the tenderest charities of life.

The followers of Mr. Rapp are settled at Economy, on the Ohio, eighteen

miles below Pittsburgh. Their number was five hundred when I was there;

and they owned three thousand acres of land. Much of their attention

seems to be given to manufactures. They rear silkworms, and were the

earliest silk-weavers in the United States. At my first visit they were

weaving only a flimsy kind of silk handkerchief; last summer I brought

away a piece of substantial, handsome black satin. They have

sheep-walks, and a large woollen manufactory. Their factory was burnt

down in 1834; the fire occasioning a loss of sixty thousand dollars; a

mere trifle to this wealthy community. Their vineyards, corn-fields,

orchards, and gardens gladden the eye. There is an abundance so much

beyond their need that it is surprising that they work; except for want

of something else to do. The Dutch love of flowers was visible in the

plants that were to be seen in the windows, and the rich carnations and

other sweets that bloomed in the garden and green-house. The whole place

has a superior air to that of either of the Shaker "families" that I

saw. The women were better dressed; more lively, less pallid; but, I

fear, not much wiser. Mr. Rapp exercises an unbounded influence over his

people. They are prevented learning any language but German, and are not

allowed to converse with strangers. The superintendent keeps a close

watch over them in this respect. Probationers must serve a year before

they can be admitted: and the managers own that they dread the entrance

of young people, who might be "unsettled;" that is, not sufficiently

subservient.

I was curious to learn how five hundred persons could be kept in the

necessary subjection by one. Mr. Rapp's means are such that his task is

not very difficult. He keeps his people ignorant; and he makes them

vain. He preaches to them their own superiority over the rest of the

world so incessantly that they fully believe it; and are persuaded that

their salvation is in his hands. At first I felt, with regard both to

them and the Shakers, a strong respect for the self-conquest which could

enable them to endure the singularity,--the one community, of its

non-intercourse with strangers; the other, of its dancing exhibitions;

but I soon found that my respect was misplaced. One and all, they glory

in the singularity. They feel no awkwardness in it, from first to last.

This vanity is the handle by which they are worked.

Mr. Rapp is now very old. His son is dead. It remains to be seen what

will become of his community, with its immense accumulation of wealth,

when it has lost its dictator. It does not appear that they can go on in

their present state without a dictator. They smile superciliously upon

Mr. Owen's plan, as admitting "a wrong principle,"--marriage. The best

hope for them is that they will change their minds on this point,

admitting the educational improvements which will arise out of the

change, and remaining in community with regard to property. This is the

process now in action among the seceders from their body, settled on the

opposite bank of the river, a short distance below Economy.

These seceders were beguiled by Count Leon, a stranger, who told the

people a great deal that was true about Mr. Rapp, and a great deal that

was false about himself. It is a great pity that Count Leon was a

swindler; for he certainly opened the eyes of the Economy people to many

truths, and might have done all that was wanted, if he had himself been

honest. He drew away seventy of the people, and instigated them to

demand of Mr. Rapp their share of the accumulated property. It was

refused: and a suit was instituted against Mr. Rapp, in whose name the

whole is invested. The lawyers compromised the affair, and Mr. Rapp

disbursed 120,000 dollars. Count Leon obtained, and absconded with

almost the whole, and died in Texas; the burial-place of many more such

men. With the remnant of their funds, the seventy seceders purchased

land, and settled themselves opposite to Beaver, on the Ohio. They live

in community, but abjuring celibacy; and have been joined by some

thorough-bred Americans. It will be seen how they prosper.

Though the members of these remarkable communities are far from being

the only agriculturists in whom the functions of proprietor and labourer

are joined, the junction is in them so peculiar as to make them a

separate class, holding a place between the landowners of whom I have

before spoken, and the labourers of whom I shall have to treat.

SECTION I.

DISPOSAL OF LAND.

The political economists of England have long wondered why the Americans

have not done what older nations would be glad to do, if the opportunity

had not gone by;--reserved government lands, which, as it is the

tendency of rent to rise, might obviate any future increase of taxation.

There are more good reasons than one why this cannot be done in America.

The expenses of the general government are so small that the present

difficulty is to reduce the taxation so as to leave no more than a safe

surplus revenue in the treasury; and there is no prospect of any

increase of taxation; as the taxpayers are likely to grow much faster

than the expenses of the government.

The people of the United States choose to be proprietors of land, not

tenants. No one can yet foresee the time when the relation of landlord

and tenant (except in regard to house property) will be extensively

established in America. More than a billion of acres remain to be

disposed of first.

The weightiest reason of all is that, in the United States, the people

of to-day are the government of to-day; the people of fifty years hence

will be the government of fifty years hence; and it would not suit the

people of to-day to sequestrate their property for the benefit of their

successors, any better than it would suit the people of fifty years

hence to be legislated for by those of to-day. A democratic government

must always be left free to be operated upon by the will of the

majority of the time being. All that the government of the day can do is

to ascertain what now appears to be the best principle by which to

regulate the disposal of land, and then to let the demand and supply

take their natural course.

The methods according to which the disposal of land is carried on are as

good as the methods of government almost invariably are in America. The

deficiency is in the knowledge of the relation which land bears to other

capital and to labour.[14] A few clear-headed men have foreseen the evil

of so great a dispersion of the people as has taken place, and have

consistently advocated a higher price being set upon land than that at

which it is at present sold. Such men are now convinced that evils which

seem to bear no more relation to the price of land than the fall of an

apple to the motions of the planets, are attributable to the reduction

in the price of government lots: that much political blundering, and

religious animosity; much of the illegal violence, and much of the

popular apathy on the slave question, which have disgraced the country,

are owing to the public lands being sold at a minimum price of a dollar

and a-quarter per acre. Many excellent leaders of the democratic party

think the people at large less fit to govern themselves wisely than they

were five-and-twenty years ago. This seems to me improbable; but I

believe there is no doubt that the dispersion has hitherto been too

great; and that the intellectual and moral, and, of course, the

political condition of the people has thereby suffered.

The price of the public lands was formerly two dollars per acre, with

credit. It was found to be a bad plan for the constituents of a

government to be its debtors; and there was a reduction of the price to

a dollar and a quarter, without credit. In forty years, above forty

millions of acres have been sold. The government cannot arbitrarily

raise the price. If any check is given to the process of dispersion, it

must arise from the people perceiving the true state of their own case,

and acting accordingly.

Some circumstances seem at present to favour the process of

enlightenment; others are adverse to it. Those which are favourable are,

the high prosperity of manufactures and commerce, the essential

requisite of which is the concentration of labourers: the increasing

immigration of labourers from Europe, and the happy experience which

they force upon the back settler of the advantage of an increased

proportion of labour to land; and the approaching crisis of the slavery

question; when every one will see the necessity of measures which will

keep the slaves where they are. Of the extraordinary, and I must think,

often wilful error of taking for granted that all the slaves must be

removed, in order to the abolition of slavery, I shall have to speak

elsewhere.

The circumstances unfavourable to an understanding of the true state of

the case about the disposal of land are, the deep-rooted persuasion that

land itself is the most valuable wealth, in all places, and under all

circumstances: and the complication of interests connected with the late

acquisition of Louisiana and Florida, and the present usurpation of

Texas.

Louisiana was obtained from the French, not on account of the fertile

new land which it comprehended, but because it was essential to the very

existence of the United States that the mouth of the Mississippi should

not be in the possession of another people. The Americans obtained the

mouth of the Mississippi; and with it, unfortunately, large tracts of

the richest virgin soil, on which slavery started into new life, and on

which "the perspiration of the eastern States" (as I have heard the

settlers of the west called) rested, and grew barbarous while they grew

rich. A fact has lately transpired in the northern States which was

already well known in the south,--that the purchase of Florida was

effected for the sake of the slave-holders. It is now known that the

President was overwhelmed with letters from slave-owners, complaining

that Florida was the refuge of their runaways; and demanding that this

retreat should be put within their power. Florida was purchased. Many

and great evils have already arisen out of its acquisition. To cover

these, and blind the people to the particular and iniquitous interests

engaged in the affair, the sordid faction benefited raises a perpetual

boast in the ears of the people about their gain of new territory, and

the glory and profit of having added so many square miles to their

already vast possessions.

In the eyes of those of the people who do not yet see the whole case,

the only evil which has arisen out of the possession of Florida, is the

Seminole warfare. They breathe an intense hatred against the Seminole

Indians; and many fine young men have gone down into Florida, and lost

their lives in battle, without being aware that they were fighting for

oppressors against the oppressed. Probably few of the United States

troops who fell in the late Seminole war knew how the strife arose.

According to the laws of the slave States, the children of the slaves

follow the fortunes of the _mother_. It will be seen, at a glance, what

consequences follow from this; how it operates as a premium upon

licentiousness among white men; how it prevents any but mock marriages

among slaves; and also what effect it must have upon any Indians with

whom slave women have taken refuge. The late Seminole war arose out of

this law. The escaped slaves had intermarried with the Indians. The

masters claimed the children. The Seminole fathers would not deliver

them up. Force was used to tear the children from their parents' arms,

and the Indians began their desperate, but very natural work of

extermination. They have carried on the war with eminent success, St.

Augustine, the capital, being now the only place in Florida where the

whites can set their foot. Of course, the poor Indians will ultimately

succumb, however long they may maintain the struggle: but, before that,

the American people may possibly have learned enough of the facts of the

case to silence those who boast of the acquisition of Florida, as an

increase of the national glory.

It would be a happy thing for them if they should know all soon enough

to direct their national reprobation upon the Texan adventurers, and

wash their hands of the iniquity of that business. This would soon be

done, if they could look upon the whole affair from a distance, and see

how the fair fame of their country is compromised by the avarice and

craft of a faction. The probity of their people, their magnanimity in

money matters, have always been conspicuous, from the time of the

cession of their lands by the States to the General Government, till

now: and, now they seem in danger of forfeiting their high character

through the art of the few, and the ignorance of the many. The few are

obtaining their end by flattering the passion of the many for new

territory, as well as by engaging their best feelings on behalf of those

who are supposed to be fighting for their rights against oppressors.

There is yet hope. The knowledge of the real state of the case is

spreading; and, if only time can be gained, the Americans will yet be

saved from the eternal disgrace of adding Texas to their honourable

Union.

The brief account which I shall give of what is prematurely called the

acquisition of Texas, is grounded partly on historical facts, open to

the knowledge of all; and partly on what I had the opportunity of

learning at New Orleans, from some leaders and agents in the Texan

cause, who did what they could to enlist my judgment and sympathies on

behalf of their party. I went in entire ignorance of the whole matter.

My first knowledge of it was derived from the persons above-mentioned,

whose objects were to obtain the good-will of such English as they could

win over; to have their affairs well spoken of in London; and to get the

tide of respectable English emigration turned in their direction. With

me they did not succeed: with some others they did. Several English are

already buried in Texas; and there are others whose repentance that they

ever were beguiled into aiding such a cause will be far worse than

death. The more I heard of the case from the lips of its advocates, the

worse I thought of it: and my reprobation of the whole scheme has grown

with every fact which has come out since.

Texas, late a province of Mexico, and then one of its confederated

States, lies adjacent to Louisiana. The old Spanish government seem to

have had some foresight as to what might happen, to judge by the

jealousy with which they guarded this part of their country from

intrusion by the Americans. The Spanish Captain-general of the internal

provinces, Don Nemisio Salcedo, used to say that he would, if he could,

stop the birds from flying over the boundary between Texas and the

United States. Prior to 1820, however, a few adventurers, chiefly Indian

traders, had dropped over the boundary line and remained unmolested in

the eastern corner of Texas. In 1820, Moses Austin, of Missouri, was

privileged by the Spanish authorities to introduce three hundred

orderly, industrious families, professing the Catholic religion, as

settlers into Texas. Moses Austin died; and his son Stephen prosecuted

the scheme. Before possession of the land was obtained, the Mexican

Revolution occurred; but the new government confirmed the privilege

granted by the old one, with some modifications. The chief of the

settlers and his followers were liberally enriched with lands, gratis;

on the conditions of their occupying them; of their professing the

Catholic religion; and of their being obedient to the laws of the

country.

Other persons were tempted by Austin's success to apply for grants. Many

obtained them, and disposed of their grants to joint stock companies; so

that Texas became the scene of much land-speculation. The companies

began to be busy about "stock" and "scrip," which they proffered as

preparatory titles to land; and a crowd of ignorant and credulous

persons, and of gamblers, thus became greedy after lands which no more

belonged to any Americans than Ireland.

Leave was given to the actual settlers by the Mexican Government to

introduce, for ten years, duty free, all articles, not contraband, that

were necessary for their use and comfort. Under this permission, much

smuggling went on: and many adventurers settled in Texas for the very

purpose of supplying the neighbouring Indian tribes with contraband

articles. Arms and ammunition were plentifully furnished to the savages;

and slaves to the settlers; though slavery had been abolished in the

country, by whose laws the settlers had engaged to live.

The next step was, an offer on the part of the United States Government

to purchase Texas, in order to incorporate it with the Union. The offer

was instantly and indignantly rejected by the Mexicans. It may seem

surprising that even with the passion for territory that the people of

the United States have, they should desire to purchase Texas, while

above a billion of acres of land at home were still unoccupied. Slavery

is found to be the solution of this, as of almost every other absurdity

and unpleasant mystery there. Slavery answers only on a virgin soil, and

under certain conditions of the supply of labour. It is destined to die

out of the States which it has impoverished, and which come most closely

into contrast with those which are flourishing under free labour. It is

evidently destined soon to be relinquished by Missouri, Kentucky,

Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware; and not very long afterwards, by the

Carolinas, and perhaps Tennessee. The proprietors of slaves have a

double purpose in acquiring new territory: to obtain a fresh field for

the labour of the slaves they possess; and, (what is at least as

important,) to keep up the equality of the representation of the slave

and free States in Congress. We have before seen that there is a

provision against the introduction of slavery into the lands north-west

of the Ohio. When to the representation of the new States of this

region, shall be joined that of the old States which relinquish slavery,

the remaining slave States will be in a hopeless minority in Congress,

unless a representation from new slave regions can be provided. Texas is

to be obtained first; and, if desirable, to be divided into several

States; and afterwards, the aggressions on the Mexican territory will

doubtless be repeated, as often as a new area for slave labour is

wanted; and an accession of representation, for the support of slavery,

is needed in Congress. Thus it happens that a host of land-speculators,

adventurers and slave-owners have, for a long series of years, been

interested in the acquisition of Texas.

On the refusal of the Mexican Government to sell Texas, the newspapers

of the slave-holding portion of the United States began to indicate

methods of obtaining the territory, and to advocate the use of any means

for so desirable an object. The agent of the United States at the

Mexican capital is believed to have been instigated by his government to

intrigue for the purpose which could not be obtained by negotiation. The

settlers in Texas made it known along the Mississippi that they might

soon be strong enough to establish slavery openly, in defiance of

Mexico. This brought in an accession of slave-holding settlers, who

evaded the Mexican laws, by calling their slaves "apprentices for

ninety-nine years." The Mexicans took alarm; decreed in the State

Legislature of Texas that no apprenticeship should, on any pretence, be

for a longer term than ten years; forbade further immigration from the

United States; and sent a small body of troops to enforce the

prohibition. This was in 1829 and 1830.

In 1832, the Mexican troops were unfortunately wanted near the capital,

and called in from the frontiers and colonies. The settlers shut up the

custom-houses in their part of the country, and defied the laws as much

as they pleased. Then a great number of restless, bad spirits began to

pour into Texas from the whole of the United States; men who had to fly

from their creditors, or from the pursuit of justice. There was probably

never seen a more ferocious company of ruffians than Texas contains at

this moment. These men, who had nothing to lose, now set to work to

wrench the territory from the hands of the Mexicans. They actually

proceeded, in 1833, to organize a State Government; opposed earnestly

but feebly by the honest, original settlers, who were satisfied with the

contract under which they had settled, and had everything to lose by the

breach of it. A Convention was called, to prepare a State Constitution,

which Stephen Austin had the audacity to carry to the Mexican capital,

to pray for its ratification by the Mexican Congress. After some time,

he was committed to prison on a charge of treasonable conspiracy. He was

still in prison when I was at New Orleans, in May, 1835; and no one of

the persons who conversed with me on Texan affairs alluded to the fact.

They spoke of him as if living and acting among the settlers. He wrote

to the colonists from his prison, advising strict obedience to the

Mexican laws; and, finally, gave his promise to the government to

promote order in the colonies; and was dismissed, by the clemency of the

administration, without further punishment than an imprisonment of

nearly two years.

The wilder adventurers among the settlers had chafed at his advice, but

found it necessary to be quiet for a time. The Mexican government put

too much trust in them on this account, and restored, during Austin's

imprisonment, the freedom of immigration, on the old conditions. The

liberty was again shamelessly abused. Slaves were imported _from

Africa_, via Cuba, and illegal land speculations were carried on with

more vigour than ever. Troops were again sent from the capital to

re-open the custom-houses, and enforce their regulations. But it was now

too late.

It had long been a settled agreement between the Texan adventurers and

many slave-holders of the south, that if slavery could no otherwise be

perpetuated in Texas, it should be done by the seizure of that province;

all possible aid being given by the residents in the United States, who

were a party to the agreement. This was avowed by the adventurers in

Texas; and the avowal has been justified by the subscriptions of money,

arms, and stores, which have been sent through New Orleans; the

companies of volunteers that have given their strength to the bad cause;

and the efforts of members of Congress from the south to hurry on the

recognition of the independence of Texas by the United States

Government. It was with shame and grief that I heard, while I was in New

York, last spring, of the public meeting there, which had been got up by

men who should have put the influence of their names to a better use,--a

public meeting in behalf of the Texan adventurers, where high-sounding

common-places had been played off about patriotism, fighting for the

dearest rights of man, and so forth. The purpose was, I believe,

answered for the time. The price of stock rose; and subscriptions were

obtained. The Texan cause was then in the lowest state of depression. It

soon revived, in consequence of an unfortunate defeat of the Mexicans,

and the capture of the President of their republic, Santa Anna. This,

again, was made to serve as the occasion of a public dinner at New York,

when some eminent members of Congress were passing through, to the

Springs, in the summer. The time will come when those gentlemen will

look back upon their speeches at that dinner as among the deeds which,

dying, they would most wish to blot. By this time, however, the true

character of the struggle was beginning to be extensively recognised:

and, day by day, the people of the United States have been since

awakening to the knowledge of how they have been cheated in having their

best sympathies called forth in behalf of the worst of causes. The great

fear is, lest this should prove to be too late; lest, the United States

having furnished the means by which the usurpation of Texas has been

achieved, the people of the Union should be persuaded that they must

follow their common, and otherwise fair rule, of acknowledging the

independence of all States that are _de facto_ independent, without

having anything to do with the question _de jure_.

What has been the national conduct of the United States on this great

question? The government has been very nearly impartial. It must be

allowed that factions and individuals were already doing so much that,

if the government wished all possible success to the Texans, it could

hardly do better than be quiet while they were receiving the aid of its

constituents. While the theft of Texas has been achieved, (if it be

achieved,) by United States men, money and arms, the general government

has been officially regarding it as ostensibly and actually a foreign

affair. However much may be true of the general belief in the interest

of its members in the success of the Texan aggression, the government

has preserved a cool and guarded tone throughout; and the only act that

I know of for which it can be blamed is for not removing General Gaines

from his command on the frontier, on his manifestation of partisanship

on the Texan side. General Gaines was ordered to protect the settlers on

the south-western frontier, who might be in danger from the Mexicans,

and from the fierce Indians who were engaged on the Mexican side of the

quarrel. General Gaines wrote to head quarters of his intentions of

crossing, to attack the Mexicans, not only the inner bounds of the

United States territory, but the disputed boundary, claimed by the

United States, and disallowed by Mexico. Immediate orders were

despatched to him to do no such thing; to confine himself, except in a

strong emergency, to the inner boundary; and on no account whatever to

cross the disputed line. This was not enough. An officer who had shown

himself so indisposed to the neutrality professed by his government,

should have been sent where he could indulge his partialities with less

hazard to the national honour.

Some senators from the south pressed, last session, with indecent haste,

for the recognition of the independence of Texas. The speech of

Ex-President Adams remains as an eternal rebuke to such.[15] This speech

was the most remarkable individual act of the session; and no session

has been distinguished by one more honourable. There was no attempt at a

reply to it, in or out of either House. Mr. Adams left no resource to

the advocates of the Texan cause but abuse of himself: the philosophy of

which he, no doubt, understood as well as other people. Various public

men, in various public assemblies, have declared their desire for the

success of the Texans; and have joined with this the avowal that the

value of slaves will rise fifty per cent, as soon as the independence of

Texas is acknowledged.

The war is not yet over. The vicissitudes have been so great,--each

party has appeared at times in so hopeless a condition, that the friends

of American honour, and the foes of slavery, do not yet despair of the

ultimate expulsion of the aggressors, and the restoration of Texas to

Mexico. If these hopes must be surrendered,--if slavery is to be

re-established on a constitutional basis, in a vast territory where it

had been actually abolished,--if a new impulse is thus to be given to

the traffic in native Africans,[16]--if the fair fame of the

Anglo-Americans is to be thus early, and thus deeply stained, good men

must rouse themselves the more to enlighten the ignorance through which

the misfortune has happened. They must labour to exhibit the truth,

keeping unshaken their faith in the theory of their constitution that

"the majority will be in the right."

It is much to be feared that, even if Texas were acknowledged to-morrow

to be a Mexican State, an injury would be found to have been done to the

American people, which it will take a long time and much experience to

repair. No pains have been spared to confirm the delusion, that the

possession of more and more land is the only thing to be desired, alike

by the selfish and the patriotic; by those who would hastily build up

their own fortunes, and by those who desire the aggrandisement of their

country. No one mourned with me more earnestly over this popular

delusion than a member of Congress, who has since been one of the most

vehement advocates of the Texan cause, and has thereby done his best to

foster the delusion. He told me that the metaphysics of society in the

south afford a curious study to the observer; and that they are

humbling to a resident. He told me that, so far from the honour and

happiness of any region being supposed to lie in the pursuit of the

higher objects of life, any man would be pronounced "imbecile" who,

having enough for his moderate wants, should prefer the enjoyment of his

patrimony, his family relations, and intercourse with the society in

which he was brought up, to wandering away in pursuit of more land. He

complained that he was heart-sick when he heard of American books: that

there was no character of permanence in anything;--all was fluctuation,

except the passion for land, which, under the name of enterprise, or

patriotism; or something else that was creditable, would last till his

countrymen had pushed their out-posts to the Pacific. He insisted that

the only consolation arose from what was to be hoped when pioneering

must, perforce, come to a stop. He told me of one and another of his

intelligent and pleasant young neighbours, who were quitting their homes

and civilised life, and carrying their brides "as bondwomen" into the

wilderness, because fine land was cheap there. If all this be true of

the young gentry of the south, as I believe it is, what hope is there

that the delusion will not long remain among those who have no other

guides than Experience;--that slowest of all teachers?

The people of the United States have, however, kept their eyes open to

one great danger, arising from this love of land. They have always had

in view the disadvantage of rich men purchasing tracts larger than they

could cultivate. They saw that it was contrary to the public interest

that individuals should be allowed to interpose a desert between other

settlers whose welfare depends much on their having means of free

communication, and a peopled neighbourhood; and that it is inconsistent

with republican modes that overgrown fortunes should arise by means of

an early grasping of large quantities of a cheap kind of property, which

must inevitably become of the highest value in course of time. The

reduction in the price of land would probably have been greater, but for

the temptation which the cheapening would hold out to capitalists.

Another reason assigned for not still further lowering the price is, the

danger of depreciating a kind of property held by the largest proportion

of the people. This is obviously unsound; since the property held by

this large proportion of the people is improved land, whose relation in

value to other kinds of property is determined by quite other

circumstances than the amount of the original purchase-money. The number

of people who sell again unimproved land is so small as not to be worthy

to enter into the account.

Large grants of land have been made to schools and colleges. Upwards of

eight millions of acres have, I believe, been thus disposed of. There

seems no objection to this, at the time it was done; as there can be no

doubt that grants will be cultivated that have such an interest hanging

on their cultivation. These grants were made while there was a national

debt. Now, there is a surplus revenue; and appropriations of this kind

had better be made henceforth from the money which has arisen from the

sale of land than in a way which would force more land into the market.

It is to be hoped, too, that no more recompenses for public service will

be offered in land, like the large grants which were made to soldiers

after the revolutionary war. The soldiers have disposed of their lands

much under the governmental price, in order to obtain a sale; and the

hurtful dispersion of settlers, and the sale of tracts too large to be

well-cultivated, have been thereby assisted.

The great question incessantly repeated throughout the United States

is, what is to be done with the immense amount of land remaining unsold;

and with the perpetually increasing revenue arising from the sale, as it

proceeds? Various propositions are afloat,--none of which appear to me

so wise as some which remain to be offered. One proposition is to divide

the lands again among the States, apportioning the amount according to

the representation in Congress, or to the population as given by the

last census. Besides the difficulty of making the apportionment fairly,

this plan would afford fatal inducements to a greater dispersion of

people than has yet taken place. It is also argued that no

constitutional power exists by which the cession of 1787 can be

reversed.

Another proposition is, to let the sale of lands go on as it does now,

and divide the proceeds among the several States, for purposes of

Education, Colonisation of the coloured race, and Internal Improvements.

Under such a plan, there would be endless disputes about the amounts to

be paid over to the different States. The general government would have

a new and dangerous function assigned to it. Besides, as much of the

surplus revenue is derived from duties, it seems a shorter and more

natural method to leave off levying money that is not wanted, than to

levy it, use it, and make a distribution of other funds among the

States. This subject will, however, come under consideration hereafter.

Others propose that nothing should be done: that the lands should go on

being sold according to the present demand, and the proceeds to

accumulate, till some accident happens,--a war, or other expensive

adventure,--to help to dissipate them. The first part of the proposition

will probably stand good: for it seems a difficult thing to raise the

price of land again:--an impossible thing, till the people shall show

that they understand the case by demanding an increase of price: but the

second part of the proposition cannot be acceded to. It is inconsistent

with the first principles of democracy that large sums of money should

accumulate in the hands of the general government. The accumulation must

be disposed of, and the sources of revenue restrained.

There are modes of advantageously disposing of the surplus revenue which

are obvious to those whose economical experience is precisely the

reverse of that of the people of the United States. They are not likely

to be at present assented to,--perhaps even to be tolerated by the

inhabitants of the new world. Such as they are, they will be presented

in the next section.

The lowest price given of late for land, that I heard of, was a

quarter-dollar per acre; (for these are not times when three thousand

acres are to be had for a rifle; and a whole promontory for a suit of

clothes.) Some good land may be still had, at a distance from roads and

markets, from those who want to turn their surplus land into money, for

a quarter-dollar per acre. Some that I saw in New Hampshire under these

circumstances has advanced in five years to a dollar and a half per

acre: and some of about equal quality, about fifteen miles nearer to a

market, sold at the same time for ten dollars per acre. I saw some low

land, on the banks of the river, near Pittsburg, which would not sell at

any price a few years ago, when salt was brought over the mountains on

pack-horses, and sold at a dollar a quart. Now salt is obtained in any

quantity by digging near this land; and the meadow is parted into lots

of ten acres each, which sell at the rate of one thousand dollars per

acre. This is, no doubt, in prospect of the salt-works which are

destined to flourish here. The highest price I heard of being given

(unless in a similar case in New York) was for street lots in Mobile;

one hundred and ten dollars per foot frontage.

For agricultural purposes, the price of land varies, according to its

fertility, and, much more, to its vicinity to a market, in a manner

which cannot easily be specified. I think the highest price I heard of

was fifteen hundred dollars per acre. This was in the south. In the

north and west, I heard of prices varying from thirty to one hundred

dollars, even in somewhat retired situations. One thing seems to be

granted on all hands: that a settler cannot fail of success, if he takes

good land, in a healthy situation, at the government price. If he

bestows moderate pains on his lot, he may confidently reckon on its

being worth at least double at the end of the year: much more, if there

are growing probabilities of a market.

The methods according to which the sales of the public lands in the

United States are conducted are excellent. The lots are so divided as to

preclude all doubt and litigation about boundaries. There is a general

land-office at Washington, and a subordinate one in each district, where

all business can be transacted with readiness and exactitude. Periodical

sales are made of lands which it is desirable to bring into the market.

These are disposed of to the highest bidder. The advance of the

population into the wilderness is thus made more regular than it would

be if there were not a rendezvous in each district, where it could be

ascertained how the settlement of the neighbouring country was going on;

titles are made more secure; and less impunity is allowed to fraud.