'Tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labor in his
vocation.--KING HENRY IV.
The city was measurably quiet, but arrests, and examinations of
suspected Abolitionists, were frequent. In general, I felt little
personal disquietude, except the fear of encountering some one who knew
my antecedents; but about once a week something transpired to make me
thoroughly uncomfortable for the moment.
[Sidenote: PREPARING AND TRANSMITTING CORRESPONDENCE.]
I attended daily the Louisiana Convention, sitting among the
spectators. I could take no notes, but relied altogether upon memory.
In corresponding, I endeavored to cover my tracks as far as possible.
Before leaving Cincinnati, I had encountered a friend just from New
Orleans, and induced him to write for me one or two letters, dated in
the latter city. They were copied, with some changes of style, and
published. Hence investigation would have shown that _The Tribune_
writer began two or three weeks before I reached the city, and thrown a
serious obstacle in the way of identifying him.
My dispatches, transmitted sometimes by mail, sometimes by express,
were addressed alternately to half a dozen banking and commercial firms
in New York, who at once forwarded them to _The Tribune_ editorial
rooms. They were written like ordinary business letters, treating of
trade and monetary affairs, and containing drafts upon supposititious
persons, quite princely in amount. I never learned, however, that they
appreciably enlarged the exchequer of their recipients. Indeed, they
were a good deal like the voluminous epistles which Mr. Toots, in his
school-boy days, was in the habit of writing to himself.
[Sidenote: GUARDING LETTERS AGAINST SCRUTINY.]
I used a system of cipher, by which all phrases between certain private
marks were to be exactly reversed in printing. Thus, if I characterized
any one as "patriot and an honest man," inclosing the sentence in
brackets, it was to be rendered a "demagogue and a scoundrel." All
matter between certain other marks was to be omitted. If a paragraph
commenced at the very edge of a sheet, it was to be printed precisely
as it stood. But beginning it half across the page indicated that it
contained something to be translated by the cipher.
The letters, therefore, even if examined, would hardly be comprehended.
Whether tampered with or not, they always reached the office. I never
kept any papers on my person, or in my room, which could excite
suspicion, if read.
In writing, I assumed the tone of an old citizen, sometimes remarking
that during a residence of fourteen years in New Orleans, I had never
before seen such a whirlwind of passion, etc. In recording incidents I
was often compelled to change names, places, and dates, though always
faithful to the fact. Toward the close of my stay, the correspondence
appearing to pass unopened, I gave minute and exact details, designing
to be in the North before the letters could return in print.
[Sidenote: A PHILADELPHIAN AMONG THE REBELS.]
Two incidents will illustrate the condition of affairs better than any
general description. Soon after Mr. Lincoln's election, a Philadelphian
reached New Orleans, on a collecting tour. One evening he was standing
in the counting-room of a merchant, who asked him:--
"Well, now you Black Republicans have elected your President, what are
you going to do next?"
"We will show you," was the laughing response.
Both spoke in jest; but the bookkeeper of the house, standing by, with
his back turned, belonged to the Minute Men, who, that very evening,
by a delegation of fifty, waited on the Philadelphian at the St. James
Hotel. They began by demanding whether he was a Black Republican.
He at once surmised that he was obtaining a glimpse of the hydra
of Secession, beside which the armed rhinoceros were an agreeable
companion, and the rugged Russian bear a pleasant household pet. His
face grew pallid, but he replied, with dignity and firmness:
"I deny your right to ask me any such questions."
The inquisitors, who were of good social position and gentlemanly
manners, claimed that the public emergency was so great as to justify
them in examining all strangers who excited suspicion; and that he
left them only the alternative of concluding him an Abolitionist and
an incendiary. At last he informed them truthfully that he had never
sympathized with the Anti-Slavery party, and had always voted the
Democratic ticket. They next inquired if the house which employed him
was Black Republican.
"Gentlemen," he replied, "it is a _business_ firm, not a political one.
I never heard politics mentioned by either of the partners. I don't
know whether they are Republicans or Democrats."
He cheerfully permitted his baggage to be searched by the Minute
Men, who, finding nothing objectionable, bade him good-evening. But,
just after they left, a mob of Roughs, attracted by the report that
an Abolitionist was stopping there, entered the hotel. They were very
noisy and profane, crying--"Let us see him; bring out the scoundrel!"
His friend, the merchant, spirited him out of the house through a back
door, and drove him to the railway station, whence a midnight train
was starting for the North. His pursuers, finding the room of their
victim empty, followed in hot haste to the dépôt. The merchant saw them
coming, and again conveyed him away to a private room. He was kept
concealed for three days, until the excitement subsided, and then went
north by a night train.
[Sidenote: SECESSION VS. SINCERITY.]
One of the clerks at the hotel where I was boarding had been an
acquaintance of mine in the North ten years before. Though I now saw
him several times a day, politics were seldom broached between us. But,
whenever they came up, we both talked mild Secession. I did not believe
him altogether sincere, and I presume he did me equal justice; but
instinct is a great matter, and we were cowards on instinct.
During the next summer, I chanced to meet him unexpectedly in Chicago.
After we exchanged greetings, his first question was--
"What did you honestly think of Secession while in New Orleans?"
"Do you know what I was doing there?"
"On your way to Mexico, were you not?"
"No; corresponding for _The Tribune_."
His eyes expanded visibly at this information, and he inquired, with
some earnestness--
"Do you know what would have been done with you if you had been
detected?"
"I have my suspicions, but, of course, do not know. Do you?"
"Yes; you would have been hung!"
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it. You would not have had a shadow of chance for your
life!"
My friend knew the Secessionists thoroughly, and his evidence was
doubtless trustworthy. I felt no inclination to test it by repeating
the experiment.
[Sidenote: A MANIA FOR SOUTHERN MANUFACTURING.]
The establishment of domestic manufactures was always a favorite theme
throughout the South; but the manufactures themselves continued very
rudimentary. The furniture dealers, for example, made a pretense of
making their own wares. They invariably showed customers through their
workshops, and laid great stress upon their encouragement of southern
industry; but they really received seven-eighths of their furniture
from the North, having it delivered at back-doors, under cover of the
night.
Secession gave a new impetus to all sorts of manufacturing projects.
The daily newspapers constantly advocated them, but were quite
oblivious of the vital truth that skilled labor will have opinions, and
opinions can not be tolerated in a slave community.
One sign on Canal-street read, "Sewing Machines manufactured on
Southern Soil"--a statement whose truth was more than doubtful. The
agent of a rival machine advertised that his patent was _owned_ in New
Orleans, and, therefore, pre-eminently worthy of patronage. Little
pasteboard boxes were labeled "Superior Southern Matches," and the
newspapers announced exultingly that a candy factory was about to be
established.
But the greatest stress was laid upon the Southern Shoe Factory, on
St. Ferdinand-street--a joint stock concern, with a capital of one
hundred thousand dollars. It was only two months old, and, therefore,
experimental; but its work was in great demand, and it was the favorite
illustration of the feasibility of southern manufactures.
[Sidenote: VISIT TO THE SOUTHERN SHOE FACTORY.]
Sauntering in, one evening, I introduced myself as a stranger, drawn
thither by curiosity. The superintendent courteously invited me to go
through the establishment with him.
His physiognomy and manners impressed me as unmistakably northern; but,
to make assurance doubly sure, I ventured some remark which inferred
that he was a native of New Orleans. He at once informed me that he was
from St. Louis. When I pursued the matter further, by speaking of some
recent improvements in that city, he replied:
"I was born in St. Louis, but left there when I was twelve months old.
Philadelphia has been my home since, until I came here to take charge
of this establishment."
The work was nearly all done with machinery run by steam. As we walked
through the basement, and he pointed out the implements for cutting
and pressing sole-leather, I could not fail to notice that every one
bore the label of its manufacturer, followed by these incendiary words:
"Boston, Massachusetts!"
Then we ascended to the second story, where sewing and pegging
were going on. All the stitching was done as in the large northern
manufactories, with sewing-machines run by steam--a combination of
two of the greatest mechanical inventions. Add a third, and in the
printing-press, the steam-engine, and the sewing-machine, you have the
most potent material agencies of civilization.
[Sidenote: WHERE ITS FACILITIES CAME FROM.]
Here was the greatest curiosity of all--the patent pegging-machine,
which cuts out the pegs from a thin strip of wood, inserts the awl,
and pegs two rows around the sole of a large shoe, more regularly and
durably than it can be done by hand--all in less than twenty-five
seconds. Need I add that it is a Yankee invention? One machine for
finishing, smoothing, and polishing the soles came from Paris; but
all the others bore that ominous label, "Boston, Massachusetts!" In
the third story, devoted to fitting the soles and other finishing
processes, the same fact was apparent--every machine was from New
England.
The work was confined exclusively to coarse plantation brogans,
which were sold at from thirteen to nineteen dollars per case of
twelve pairs. Shoes of the same quality, at the great factories in
Milford, Haverhill, and Lynn, Massachusetts, were then selling by the
manufacturers at prices ranging from six to thirteen dollars per case.
In one apartment we found three men making boxes for packing the shoes,
from boards already sawed and dressed.
"Where do you get your lumber?" I asked.
"It comes from Illinois," replied my cicerone. "We have it planed and
cut out in St. Louis--labor is so high here."
"Your workmen, I presume, are from this city?"
"No, sir. The leading men in all departments are from the North,
mainly from Massachusetts and Philadelphia. We are compelled to pay
them high salaries--from sixty to three hundred dollars per month. The
subordinate workmen, whom we hope soon to put in their places, we found
here. We employ forty-seven persons, and turn out two hundred and fifty
pairs of brogans daily. We find it impossible to supply the demand, and
are introducing more machinery, which will soon enable us to make six
hundred pairs per day."
[Sidenote: HOW "SOUTHERN" SHOES WERE MADE.]
"Where do you procure the birch for pegs?"
"From Massachusetts. It comes to us cut in strips and rolled, ready for
use."
"Where do you get your leather?"
"Well, sir" (with a searching look, as if a little suspicious of being
quizzed), "_it_ also comes from the North, at present; but we shall
soon have tanneries established. The South, especially Texas, produces
the finest hides in the country; but they are nearly all sent north, to
be tanned and curried, and then brought back in the form of leather."
Thanking the superintendent for his courtesy, and wishing him a very
good evening, I strolled homeward, reflecting upon the _Southern_ Shoe
Factory. It was admirably calculated to appeal to local patriotism, and
demonstrate the feasibility of southern manufacturing. Its northern
machinery, run by northern workmen, under a northern superintendent,
turned out brogans of northern leather, fastened with northern pegs,
and packed in cases of northern pine, at an advance of only about one
hundred per cent. upon northern prices!
New Orleans afforded to the stranger few illustrations of the
"Peculiar Institution." Along the streets, you saw the sign, "Slave
Dépôt--Negroes bought and sold," upon buildings which were filled
with blacks of every age and of both sexes, waiting for purchasers.
The newspapers, although recognizing slavery in general as the
distinguishing cause which made southern gentlemen gallant and
"high-toned," and southern ladies fair and accomplished, were yet
reticent of details. They would sometimes record briefly the killing
of a master by his negroes; the arrest of A., charged with being an
Abolitionist; of B., for harboring or tampering with slaves; of C.--f.
m. c. (free man of color)--for violating one of the many laws that
hedged him in; and, very rarely, of D., for cruelty to his slaves.
But their advertising columns were filled with announcements of slave
auctions, and long descriptions of the negroes to be sold. Said _The
Crescent_:
[Sidenote: STUDYING SOUTHERN SOCIETY.]
"We have for a long time thought that no man ought to be
allowed to write for the northern Press, unless he has passed
at least two years of his existence in the Slave States of
the South, doing nothing but studying southern institutions,
southern society, and the character and sentiments of the
southern people."
There was much truth in this, though not in the sense intended by the
writer. Strangers spending but a short time in the South _were_ liable
to very erroneous views. They saw only the exterior of a system, which
looked pleasant and patriarchal. They had no opportunity of learning
that, within, it was full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness.
Northern men were so often deceived as to make one skeptical of
the traditional acuteness of the Yankee. The genial and hospitable
southerners would draw the long bow fearfully. A Memphis gentleman
assured a northern friend of mine that, on Sundays, it was impossible
for a white man to hire a carriage in that city, as the negroes
monopolized them all for pleasure excursions!
One of my New Orleans companions, who was frank and candid upon
other subjects, used to tell me the most egregious stories respecting
the slaves. As, for instance, that their marriage-vows were almost
universally held sacred by the masters; the virtue of negro women
respected, and families rarely separated. I preserved my gravity,
never disputing him; but he must have known that a visit to any of the
half-dozen slave auctions, within three minutes' walk of his office,
would disprove all these statements.
[Sidenote: REPORTING A SLAVE AUCTION.]
These slave auctions were the only public places where the primary
social formation of the South cropped out sharply. I attended them
frequently, as the best school for "studying southern institutions,
southern society, and the character and sentiments of the southern
people."
I remember one in which eighty slaves were sold, one after another. A
second, at which twenty-one negroes were disposed of, I reported, _in
extenso_, from notes written upon blank cards in my pocket during its
progress. Of course, it was not safe to make any memoranda openly.
The auction was in the great bar-room of the St. Charles Hotel, a
spacious, airy octagonal apartment, with a circular range of Ionic
columns. The marble bar, covering three sides of the room, was doing a
brisk business. Three perturbed tapsters were bustling about to supply
with fluids the bibulous crowd, which by no means did its spiriting
gently.
The negroes stood in a row, in front of the auctioneer's platform, with
numbered tickets pinned upon their coats and frocks. Thus, a young
woman with a baby in her arms, who rolled his great white eyes in
astonishment, was ticketed "No. 7." Referring to the printed list, I
found this description:
"7. Betty, aged 15 years, and child 4 months, No. 1
field-hand and house-servant, very likely. Fully guaranteed."
In due time, Betty and her boy were bid off for $1,165.
[Sidenote: SALE OF A WHITE GIRL.]
Those already sold were in a group at the other end of the platform.
One young woman, in a faded frock and sun-bonnet, and wearing gold
ear-rings, had straight brown hair, hazel eyes, pure European features,
and a very light complexion. I was unable to detect in her face the
slightest trace of negro lineage. Her color, features, and movements
were those of an ordinary country girl of the white working class in
the South. A by-stander assured me that she was sold under the hammer,
just before I entered. She associated familiarly with the negroes, and
left the room with them when the sale was concluded; but no one would
suspect, under other circumstances, that she was tinged with African
blood.
The spectators, about two hundred in number, were not more than
one-tenth bidders. There were planters from the interior, with broad
shoulders and not unpleasing faces; city merchants, and cotton factors;
fast young men in pursuit of excitement, and strangers attracted by
curiosity.
Among the latter was a spruce young man in the glossiest of broadcloth,
and the whitest of linen, with an unmistakable Boston air. He lounged
carelessly about, and endeavored to look quite at ease, but made a very
brilliant failure. His restless eye and tell-tale countenance indicated
clearly that he was among the Philistines for the first time, and held
them in great terror.
There were some professional slave-dealers, and many nondescripts who
would represent the various shades between loafers and blacklegs, in
any free community. They were men of thick lips, sensual mouths, full
chins, large necks, and bleared eyes, suggesting recent dissipation.
They were a "hard-looking" company. I would not envy a known
Abolitionist who should fall into their unrestrained clutches. No
prudent life-insurance company would take a risk in him.
The auctioneer descanted eloquently upon the merits of each of his
chattels, seldom dwelling upon one more than five minutes. An herculean
fellow, with an immense chest, was dressed in rusty black, and wore a
superannuated silk hat. He looked the decayed gentleman to a charm, and
was bid off for $840. A plump yellow boy, also in black, silk hat and
all, seemed to think being sold rather a good joke, grinning broadly
the while, and, at some jocular remark, showing two rows of white
teeth almost from ear to ear. He brought $1,195, and appeared proud of
commanding so high a figure.
[Sidenote: WOMEN ON THE BLOCK.]
Several light quadroon girls brought large prices. One was surrounded
by a group of coarse-looking men, who addressed her in gross language,
shouting with laughter as she turned away to hide her face, and rudely
manipulating her arms, shoulders, and breasts. Her age was not given.
"That's the trouble with niggers," remarked a planter to me; "you never
can tell how old they are, and so you get swindled." One mother and her
infant sold for $1,415.
Strolling into the St. Charles, a few days later, I found two sales
in full career. On one platform the auctioneer was recommending
a well-proportioned, full-blooded negro, as "a very likely and
intelligent young man, gentlemen, who would have sold readily, a year
ago, for thirteen hundred dollars. And now I am offered only eight
hundred--eight hundred--eight hundred--eight hundred; _are_ you all
done?"
On the opposite side of the room another auctioneer, in stentorian
tones, proclaimed the merits of a pretty quadroon girl, tastefully
dressed, and wearing gold finger and ear rings. "The girl, gentlemen,
is only fifteen years old; warranted sound in every particular, an
excellent seamstress, which would make her worth a thousand dollars,
if she had _no other qualifications_. She is sold for no fault, but
simply because her owner must have money. No married man had better buy
her; she is too handsome." The girl was bid off at $1,100, and stepped
down to make way for a field-hand. Ascending the steps, he stumbled and
fell, at which the auctioneer saluted him with "Come along, G-d d--n
you!"
[Sidenote: MOTHERS AND CHILDREN.--"DEFECTS."]
Mothers and their very young children were not often separated; but I
frequently saw husbands and wives sold apart; no pretense being made
of keeping them together. Negroes were often offered with what was
decorously described as a "defect" in the arm, or shoulder. Sometimes
it appeared to be the result of accident, sometimes of punishment. I
saw one sold who had lost two toes from each foot. No public inquiries
were made, and no explanation given. He replied to questions that his
feet "hurt him sometimes," and was bid off at $625--about two-thirds of
his value had it not been for the "defect."
Some slaves upon the block--especially the mothers--looked sad and
anxious; but three out of four appeared careless and unconcerned,
laughing and jesting with each other, both before and after the sale.
The young people, especially, often seemed in the best of spirits.
[Sidenote: A MOST REVOLTING SPECTACLE.]
And yet, though familiarity partially deadened the feeling produced
by the first one I witnessed, a slave auction is the most utterly
revolting spectacle that I ever looked upon. Its odiousness does not
lie in the lustful glances and expressions which a young and comely
woman on the block always elicits; nor in the indelicate conversation
and handling to which she is subjected; nor in the universal infusion
of white blood, which tells its own story about the morality of the
institution; nor in the separation of families; nor in the sale of
women--as white as our own mothers and sisters--made pariahs by an
imperceptible African taint; nor in the scars and "defects," suggestive
of cruelty, which are sometimes seen.
All these features are bad enough, but many sales exhibit few of them,
and are conducted decorously. The great revolting characteristic lies
in the essence of the system itself--that claim of absolute ownership
in a human being with an immortal soul--of the right to buy and sell
him like a horse or a bale of cotton--which insults Democracy, belies
Civilization, and blasphemes Christianity.
In March, there was a heavy snow-storm in New York. Telegraphic
intelligence of it reached me in an apartment fragrant with orange
blossoms, where persons in linen clothing were discussing strawberries
and ice-cream. It made one shiver in that delicious, luxurious climate.
Blind old Milton was right. Where should he place the Garden of Eden
but in the tropics? How should he paint the mother of mankind but in
----"The flowing gold
Of her loose tresses,"
as a blonde--the distinctive type of northern beauty?