CHAPTER IX.

THE DANGER OF THE SOUTH.

“Before the advent of modern science, any idea of systematic laws

of human improvement would have been deemed alike impossible

and absurd; but the constant observation of facts, the exact

statistics recorded, the progress of science in all departments,

has made it possible to conceive of, and probable that there

actually exist _uniform laws of social movement_, based upon any

given condition of society. If the _elementary social_ condition

be different in regard to religion, government, arts, science,

industry, the resulting movements of society will be different.

Hence, when we have ascertained by accurate observation upon

and record of the social phenomena, that the social movement

is uniformly in a certain direction, and that certain results

uniformly follow, we shall know in what _elements_ the conditions

of society must be changed, in order to change the results.

Hence, when this law of social movements is ascertained, the

philanthropist, legislator, and jurist will know precisely what

must be done, and how, in order to remove the evils, or reform the

wrongs, or produce the results they desire. They will know that

_certain elementary conditions of society_ must be changed, and

they well know that by removing temptations, or laying restraints,

or enlightening the mind, or changing the course of industry, or

producing new arts, they will change the social tendency, and

thus change the results. * * * Society, or that part of it which

thinks and acts, can change the results by changing the elementary

conditions which produce them. When you know exactly what the

change ought to be, it is not very difficult to produce it; nor

does it follow that because a thousand crimes must be committed in

Ohio, that a thousand particular individuals _must_ commit them.

It is true that the individual frequently acts from motives, but

is it not just as true that the individual frequently seeks these

motives, and presents them to himself?”—_From the Report of the

Ohio State Commissioner of Statistics_, 1859.

“If there is a first principle in intellectual education it is

this—that the discipline which does good to the mind is that in

which the mind is active, not that in which it is passive. The

secret for developing the faculties is to give them much to do,

and much inducement to do it.”—_Mill’s Political Economy._

The field-hand negro is, on an average, a very poor and very bad

creature, much worse than I had supposed before I had seen him

and grown familiar with his stupidity, indolence, duplicity, and

sensuality. He seems to be but an imperfect man, incapable of taking

care of himself in a civilized manner, and his presence in large

numbers must be considered a dangerous circumstance to a civilized

people.

A civilized people, within which a large number of such creatures has

been placed by any means not within its own control, has claims upon

the charity, the aid, if necessary, of all other civilized peoples

in its endeavours to relieve itself from the danger which must be

apprehended from their brutal propensities, from the incompleteness

of their human sympathies—their inhumanity—from their natural love of

ease, and the barbaric want of forethought and providence, which would

often induce desperate want among them. Evidently the people thus

burthened would have need to provide systematically for the physical

wants of these poor creatures, else the latter would be liable to prey

with great waste upon their substance. Perhaps the very best thing to

do would be to collect them into small herds, and attach each herd

to a civilized family, the head of which should be responsible for

its safe keeping. Such a superintendent should of course contrive, if

possible, to make his herd contribute in some way to the procuring of

its necessary sustenance; and if, besides this, he even turned their

feeble abilities to such good account by his superior judgment, that

they actually procured a considerable surplus of food and clothing for

the benefit of others, should not Christendom applaud and encourage his

exertions, even if a certain amount of severity and physical constraint

had been found necessary to accomplish this success?

* * * * *

Let us endeavour to assume a similar difficulty for ourselves. Let us

suppose that a large part—the proportion varying with the locality—of

our own community should next year suffer from some new malady, the

result of which should in no case be fatal, but which should, like

the _goître_ of Savoy, leave all who were affected by it permanently

injured in their intellects, with diminished bodily activity, and

fiercer animal propensities. (I take this method of stating the case,

because some of us who only see the negro as he exists at the North

might find it difficult to imagine him as he is known to the planters.)

Suppose, further, that this malady should be confined to certain

families, as if its seed had been received hundreds of years ago by

numerous individuals, and only their descendants (but all of these to

the most distant trace of the blood) now suffered from it. Also, that

some of our doctors should be of the opinion that the effects of the

malady upon the intellect would descend to the children, and to all

descendants of those who suffered. Suppose that these unfortunates

should be subject to certain hallucinations, that they should be liable

to think themselves sane and able to take care of themselves, and that

when possessed with these ideas that they should be quite cunning and

dangerous in attempting to exercise the usual prerogatives of sane men.

What should we do with them?

Finding them in a degree tractable; and sensible enough, after all, to

yield readily, if not cheerfully, to superior force, we might herd them

together on a sort of farm-hospitals, and let them earn their living,

giving especially capable men charge of many, and rewarding them with

good salaries, and ordinary small farmers, smaller numbers, with

smaller compensations for overseeing them?

Of course, we should place every possible legislative guard and check

upon these superintendents and overseers to secure fair and honest

dealing, to prevent them from making perquisites for themselves at

the expense of a reasonable comfort in their institutions. Careful

instructions to secure economical sustenance, and how to turn such

labour as could be got from the unfortunates to the best account, in

defraying the cost of their keeping, would also be framed by talented

men and furnished each keeper.

And having regard to national wealth, to the temporal good of the

commonwealth, this is about all that common sense would lead us to do,

at least through the agency of government.

* * * * *

Is this all, reader?

You have too much overlooked our small matters of State, if you think

so. We have a few crazy people, a few fools, not enough to be a matter

of much consideration to our statesmen or legislators, yet we have a

State system in our dealing with them, such as it is, and such as it

is it puts our dealing with them on a little different footing than

would the system I have above imagined. What I have imagined is not

quite all we have for some time been in the habit of doing when we did

anything with this class. And judging from what we have done, it does

not seem as if it would be all that we should do in such an emergency

as I have supposed, engaging as it would all the talent of the country

to diminish as much as possible the necessary results of the calamity.

We should, it appears, call upon our learned doctors eagerly to

study; we should each of us eagerly observe for ourselves whether the

fearful infirmity by which so many were incapacitated for their former

usefulness, were not only absolutely incurable, but also absolutely

not possible to be alleviated. And if our observation should satisfy

us, if our doctors could not deny that, with judicious treatment, a

considerable alleviation could be effected, so much so indeed, that

with a very large part a close approximation to the normal condition of

sane and capable mankind could be obtained, there are doubtless those

amongst us who would think this a dangerous and an infidel presumption.

Just as every year some miserable wretch is found in our dark places

to have a crazy father or brother whom he keeps in a cage in his

garret, and whose estate he takes care of, and who is of the opinion

that it will be of no use, but, on the contrary, a manifest defiance

of Divine Providence, and most dangerous to life and property to let

this unfortunate out of his cage, to surround him with comforts, and

contrive for him cheerful occupation, as our State requires shall be

done. But would the average common sense and humanity of the people of

the Free States allow them to refuse all reduction from their usual

annual incomes; refuse to suffer all necessary addition to then usual

taxes; refuse to burden their minds with the difficulties of the

all-absorbing problem, in order to initiate a remedial system? Our

worst and most cowardly legislature would never dare adjourn leaving

this duty incompletely performed. There are thousands on thousands of

our citizens who would not only spare from their incomes, but would

divide their estates for such a purpose. There is not a county that

would not submit to the highest war taxes for it.

Suppose that the doctors and that the universal observation of the

community should determine that the defective class were not only

capable of being improved, but that so far as their limited intellects

permitted, the laws of improvement were the same for them as for

healthy men; that they were found to be influenced by a liking for

food and drink, for the society of each other and of sane men, for the

admiration and respect of each other and of sane men, for their ease,

for dancing, for music and other amusements; and that their imperfect

natures could be acted upon, drawn out, and enlarged by means of these

likings. Suppose that it were found that nearly all of them had still

some knowledge of religion, that although they were inclined sometimes

to consider sane men as their enemies, they were yet, in most cases,

by judicious play upon their inclinations and disinclinations, capable

of being trained quite beyond the most sagacious of our domestic

animals, even to read intelligently. Should we, because there were so

many of them, go back two hundred years in our civilization, denying

ourselves the addition which this capacity would give to their powers

of usefulness, and consequently of economy of maintenance; denying them

the advantages for improvement which we now in every State give to our

hopelessly insane, to our blind and mute, to our fools, to our worst

and most dangerous criminals.

Why do we not pass laws forbidding criminals and maniacs to read? Our

fathers did not allow them to read when negroes were introduced in

Virginia. But every man among us whom we call well informed, now knows

that it is a profitable business for the State, which has so little

profitable business, even to provide teachers and books for a portion

of her criminals, to allow books and encourage reading with all. To

provide books, to provide physicians, to provide teachers, to provide

halls and gardens of recreations, as stimulants to healthful thought

for our madmen and our fools; to this the State is impelled equally by

considerations of safety and of economy. Even Kentucky has its State

institution for the development of manhood in fools born of white women.

Does not every such man know, too, that, given an improvable mind with

a sound body, possessed of the natural instincts, the usual desires,

appetites, aversions, no matter if at starting the being is even what

we call an idiot, a drivelling imbecile, disgusting all who see him,

a sheer burden upon society, the process of making him clean in his

habits, capable of labouring with a good and intelligent purpose, and

of associating inoffensively with others, is just as certain in its

principles and in its progress—infinite progress—as the navigation of a

ship or the building of a house?

This is even so with a cretin, whose body is deformed beyond remedy,

whose brain is contracted, whose face is contorted, whose limbs are

half paralyzed, whose every organ is defective, and who has inherited

these conditions from goitrous parents and grandparents.

Dr. Seguin says: “The idiot wishes for nothing; he wishes only to

remain in his vacuity.”

Even so thinks Dr. Cartwright of the negro; and surely nothing worse

can be thought of him.

But Dr. Seguin adds: “To treat successfully this ill-will

[indisposition to take care of himself], the physician wills that

the idiot should act _and think himself, of himself and, finally,

by himself_. The incessant volition of the moral physican urges

incessantly the idiot into the sphere of activity of thinking, of

labour, of duty, and affectionate feelings.”

Is there no such law of progression of capacity for the black

imbeciles? All the laws of the South have the contrary aims: to

withdraw them as much as possible from the sphere of self-willed

activity, thought, labour—to prevent the negro from thinking by

himself, of himself, for himself; and the principle on which these laws

are based is thus defined by Mr. De Bow:—

“The Almighty has thought well to place certain of His creatures

in certain _fixed positions_ in this world of ours, for what

cause He has not seen fit to make quite clear to our limited

capacities; and why an ass is not a man, and a man is not an ass,

will probably for ever remain a mystery.” “God made the world;

God gave thee thy place, my hirsute brother, and, according to

all earthly possibilities and probabilities, it is thy destiny

there to remain, bray as thou wilt. From the same great power have

our sable friends, Messrs. Sambo, Cuffee, & Co., received their

position also.... Alas, my poor black brother! thou, like thy

hirsute friend, must do thy braying in vain.”[66]

Are there laws on our statute-books to prevent asses from being taught

to read?

The _Richmond Examiner_ says—

“These immigrants do not, like our ancestors, fly from religious

and political persecution; they come merely as animals in search

of a richer and fresher pasture. They come to gratify physical

want—for moral, intellectual, or religious wants they have not

acquired. They will settle in large masses, and, for ages to come,

will practise and inculcate a pure (or rather impure) materialism.

Mormonism is a fit exponent, proof, and illustration of our

theory. The mass of them are sensual, grovelling, low-minded

agrarians, and nine-tenths of them would join the Mormons, or some

such brutal, levelling sect, if an opportunity offered to do so.

“European writers describe a large class of population throughout

England and the Continent as being distinguished by restless,

wandering, nomadic habits, and by a peculiar conformation of the

skull and face. Animal and sensual nature largely predominates,

with them, over the moral and intellectual. It is they who commit

crimes, fill prisons, and adorn the gallows. They will not submit

to the restraints of law or religion, nor can they be educated.

From their restless and lawless habits, we should infer they

composed a large part of the northern immigration.”

If all this were true, and were felt by us to be true, should we think

it necessary to put the minds of these beings in fetters? Should we

hold it to be dangerous if one should undertake to strengthen their

intellects, to give them larger ideas?

If all the slaves in the United States were “real Congo niggers,”

which not one in a thousand is, and if all real Congo niggers were as

incapable, and as beastly, and as savage in their propensities as the

very worst of them are asserted to be, would the method of dealing with

them which the legislation of the Slave States, and which a large part

of the labour of the Congress and Executive of our nation is directed

to the purpose of perpetuating, be felt to be strictly in accordance

with sound and well-established economico-political principles? The

purpose of that legislation is avowed to be merely to secure safety

with economy. Would a project for establishing an institution planned

upon the principles of the ancient Bedlam and the ancient Bridewell

be felt to-day to be completely justified among us, by the statement

that highwaymen and maniacs will endanger life and the security of our

property if they are not somehow taken care of?

If there had been no Mettray with its Demetz, no Norfolk Island with

its Machonochie, no Hanwell with its Connolly, no Abendberg with its

Guggenbuhl; if the courage, devotion, and labour of Pinel, Sicard, and

Seguin had been in vain; if there had been no progress in the science

of civilized society since the days of Howard, we might listen with

merely silent sadness to such, an excuse for debilitating the weak, for

holding down the fallen; for permitting brutal keepers to exasperate

the mad, and mercenary nurses to stupefy the idiotic; we might, if

we saw it to be necessary to preserve a civilized community from

destruction, even give its object our aid; but with the knowledge which

in our time is everywhere else acted upon, it is impossible for us not

to feel that such an argument is a specious and a fallacious one, and

that no State can long act upon it with safety, much less with economy.

And surely the system by which intellectual demands and ambition are

repressed in the negro is as little calculated to produce the security

which is its object, as it is to turn his physical abilities to the

most profitable use for his owner. How far it fails in this respect,

the extra-legal measures of safety and the semi-instinctive habits of

unconscious precaution which pervade Southern society evince. I say

unconscious precaution, because Southerners themselves seem to have

generally a very inadequate idea of the influence of slavery upon their

habits in this way, and this is very natural.

“Every habit breeds unconsciousness of its existence in the mind

of the man whom it controls, and this is more true of habits which

involve our safety than of any others. The weary sailor aloft, on the

look-out, may fall asleep; but, in the lurch of the ship, his hands

will clench the swaying cordage only the more firmly, that they act in

the method of instinct. A hard-hunted fugitive may nod in his saddle,

but his knees will not unloose their hold upon his horse. Men who live

in powder-mills are said to lose all conscious feeling of habitual

insecurity; but visitors perceive that they have acquired a constant

softness of manner and of voice.

“If a labourer on a plantation should insolently contradict his

master, it may often appear to be no more than a reasonable precaution

for his master to kill him on the spot; for, when a slave has acquired

such boldness, it may be evident that not merely is his value as

property seriously diminished, but that the attempt to make further

use of him at all, as property, involves in danger the whole white

community. ‘If I let this man live, and permit him the necessary degree

of freedom to be further useful to me, he will infect with his audacity

all my negro property, which will be correspondingly more difficult to

control, and correspondingly reduced in value. If he treats me with so

little respect now, what have I to anticipate when he has found other

equally independent spirits among the slaves? They will not alone

make themselves free, but will avenge upon me, and my wife, and my

daughters, and upon all our community, the injustice which they will

think has been done them, and their women, and children.’ Thus would

he reason, and shudder to think what might follow if he yielded to an

impulse of mercy.

“To suppose, however, that the master will pause while he thus weighs

the danger exactly, and then deliberately act as, upon reflection,

he considers the necessities of the case demand, is absurd. The

mere circumstance of his doing so would nourish a hopeful spirit in

the slave, and stimulate him to consider how he could best avoid

all punishment. Hence the instinct-like habit of precaution with

individuals, and hence the frenzy which often seizes whole communities.

“But ‘planters sleep unguarded, and with their bedroom doors open.’

So, as it was boasted, did the Emperor at Biarritz, and with greater

bravery, because the assassin of Napoleon would be more sure, in

despatching him, that there would be no one left with a vital interest

to secure punishment for such a deed: and because, if he failed,

Napoleon dare never employ such exemplary punishment for his enemies as

would the planters for theirs. The emperors of the South are the whole

free society of the South, and it is a society of mutual assurance.

Against a slave who has the disposition to become an assassin, his

emperor has a bodyguard, which, for general effectiveness, is to the

Cent Garde as your right hand is to your right hand’s glove.

“It is but a few months since, in Georgia or Alabama, a man treated

another precisely as Mr. Brooks treated Mr. Sumner—coming up behind

him, with the fury of a madman, and felling him with a bludgeon;

killing him by the first blow, however, and then discharging vengeance

by repeated strokes upon his senseless body.[67] The man thus pitifully

abused had been the master of the other, a remarkably confiding and

merciful master, it was said—too much so. ‘It never does to be too

slack with niggers.’ By such indiscretion he brought his death upon

him. But did his assassin escape? He was roasted, at a slow fire,

on the spot of the murder, in the presence of many thousand slaves,

driven to the ground from all the adjoining counties, and when, at

length, his life went out, the fire was intensified until his body was

in ashes, which were scattered to the winds and trampled under foot.

Then ‘magistrates and clergymen’ addressed appropriate warnings to the

assembled subjects. It was not thought indiscreet to leave doors open

again that night.

“Will any traveller say that he has seen no signs of discontent, or

insecurity, or apprehension, or precaution; that the South has appeared

quieter and less excited, even on the subject of slavery, than the

North; that the negroes seem happy and contented, and the citizens

more tranquilly engaged in the pursuit of their business and pleasure?

Has that traveller been in Naples? Precisely the same remarks apply

to the appearance of things there at this moment [the moment of this

writing—it was in 1857].

“The massacre of Hayti opened in a ball-room. Mr. Cobden judged there

was not the smallest reason in the French king’s surrounding himself

with soldiers the day before the hidden force of insubordination broke

forth and cast him forth from his kingdom. It is true, however, that

the tranquillity of the South is the tranquillity of Hungary and of

Poland, rather than of France or the Two Sicilies; the tranquillity of

hopelessness on the part of the subject race. But, in the most favoured

regions, this broken spirit of despair is as carefully preserved by

the citizens, and with as confident and unhesitating an application

of force, when necessary to teach humility, as it is by the army

of the Czar, or the omnipresent police of the Kaiser. In Richmond,

and Charleston, and New Orleans, the citizens are as careless and

gay as in Boston or London, and their servants a thousand times as

childlike and cordial, to all appearance, in their relations with them

as our servants are with us. But go to the bottom of this security

and dependence, and you come to police machinery such as you never

find in towns under free government: citadels, sentries, passports,

grape-shotted cannon, and daily public whippings for accidental

infractions of police ceremonies. I happened myself to see more direct

expression of tyranny in a single day and night at Charleston, than at

Naples [under Bomba] in a week; and I found that more than half the

inhabitants of this town were subject to arrest, imprisonment, and

barbarous punishment, if found in the streets without a passport after

the evening ‘gun-fire.’ Similar precautions and similar customs may be

discovered in every large town in the South.

“Nor is it so much better, as is generally imagined, in the rural

districts. Ordinarily there is no show of government any more than

at the North: the slaves go about with as much apparent freedom as

convicts in a dockyard. There is, however, nearly everywhere, always

prepared to act, if not always in service, an armed force, with a

military organization, which is invested with more arbitrary and

cruel power than any police in Europe. Yet the security of the whites

is in a much less degree contingent on the action of the ‘patrols’

than upon the constant, habitual, and instinctive surveillance and

authority of all white people over all black. I have seen a gentleman,

with no commission or special authority, oblige negroes to show their

passports, simply because he did not recognize them as belonging to

any of his neighbours. I have seen a girl, twelve years old, in a

district where, in ten miles, the slave population was fifty to one of

the free, stop an old man on the public road, demand to know where he

was going, and by what authority, order him to face about and return

to his plantation, and enforce her command with turbulent anger, when

he hesitated, by threatening that she would have him well whipped

if he did not instantly obey. The man quailed like a spaniel, and

she instantly resumed the manner of a lovely child with me, no more

apprehending that she had acted unbecomingly, than that her character

had been influenced by the slave’s submission to her caprice of

supremacy; no more conscious that she had increased the security of her

life by strengthening the habit of the slave to the master race, than

is the sleeping seaman that he tightens his clutch of the rigging as

the ship meets each new billow.

“There is no part of the South in which the people are more free

from the direct action of slavery upon the character, or where they

have less to apprehend from rebellion, than Eastern Tennessee. Yet,

after the burning of a negro near Knoxville, a few years ago, the

deed was justified, as necessary for the maintenance of order among

the slaves, by the editor of a newspaper (the _Register_), in the

following terms:—‘It was,’ he observed, ‘a means of absolute, necessary

self-defence, which could not be secured by an ordinary resort to

the laws. Two executions on the gallows have occurred in this county

within a year or two past, and the example has been unavailing. Four

executions by hanging have taken place, heretofore, in Jefferson, of

slaves guilty of similar offences, and it has produced no radical

terror or example for the others designing the same crimes, and hence

any example less horrible and terrifying would have availed nothing

here.’

“The other local paper (the _Whig_), upon the same occasion, used the

following language:—

“‘We have to say in defence of the act, that it was not perpetrated by

an excited multitude, but by one thousand citizens—good citizens at

that—who were cool, calm, and deliberate.’

“And the editor, who is a Methodist preacher, presently adds, after

explaining the enormity of the offence with which the victim was

charged—‘We unhesitatingly affirm that the punishment was unequal to

the crime. Had we been there we should have taken a part, and even

suggested the pinching of pieces out of him with red-hot pincers—the

cutting off of a limb at a time, and then burning them all in a heap.

The possibility of his escaping from jail forbids the idea of awaiting

the tardy movements of the law.’ [Although one thousand trusty citizens

volunteered to guard him at the stake.]

“How much more horrible than the deed are these apologies for it.

They make it manifest that it was not accidental in its character, but

a phenomenon of general and fundamental significance. They explain the

paralytic effect upon the popular conscience of the great calamity of

the South. They indicate a necessary tendency of people living under

such circumstances to return in their habits of thought to the dark

ages of mankind. For who, from the outside, can fail to see that the

real reason why men in the middle of the nineteenth century, and in

the centre of the United States, are publicly burned at the stake, is

one much less heathenish, less disgraceful to the citizens than that

given by the more zealous and extemporaneous of their journalistic

exponents—the desire to torture the sinner proportionately to the

measure of his sin. Doubtless, this reverend gentleman expresses

the utmost feeling of the ruling mind of his community. But would a

similar provocation have developed a similar avenging spirit in any

other nominally Christian or civilized people? Certainly not. All

over Europe, and in every Free State—California, for significant

reasons, temporarily excepted—in similar cases, justice deliberately

takes its course; the accused is systematically assisted in defending

or excusing himself. If the law demands his life, the infliction of

unnecessary suffering, and the education of the people in violence and

feelings of revenge, is studiously avoided. Go back to the foundation

of the custom which thus neutralizes Christianity among the people

of the South, which carries them backward blindly against the tide

of civilization, and what do we find it to be? The editor who still

retains moral health enough to be suspected—as men more enlightened

than their neighbours usually are—of heterodoxy, answers. To follow

the usual customs of civilization elsewhere would not be felt safe. To

indulge in feelings of humanity would not be felt safe. To be faithful

to the precepts of Christ would not be felt safe. To act in a spirit

of cruel, inconsiderate, illegal, violent, and pitiless vengeance,

must be permitted, must be countenanced, must be defended by the most

conservative, as a ‘means of absolute, necessary self-defence.’ To

educate the people practically otherwise would be felt to be suicidal.

Hence no free press, no free pulpit, no free politics can be permitted

in the South. Hence every white stripling in the South may carry a

dirk-knife in his pocket, and play with a revolver before he has

learned to swim.”[68]

I happened to pass through Tennessee shortly after this tragedy,

and conversed with a man who was engaged in it—a mild, common-sense

native of the country. He told me that there was no evidence against

the negro but his own confession. I suggested that he might have been

crazy. “What if he was?” he asked with a sudden asperity. What if he

was, to be sure? The slaves who were brought together to witness his

torture were not insane. They were at least capable of instruction.

That day they were given a lesson; were taught to know their masters

better; were taught that when ordinary and legal discipline failed,

resort would be had to more potent means of governing them. A better

informed man, having regard to the ignorance of a stranger, might have

answered me: “It was of no consequence, practically, whether he were

sane or mad. We do not wish our slaves to study the right and the wrong

of every exciting occurrence. To say that being mad the negro was not

responsible, therefore not guilty of a crime, therefore not to be

punished, would be proclaiming to them that only that which is wrong is

to be dreaded. Whatever offends us, whatever is against our will and

pleasure, is what a slave must be made to dread.”

Constantly, and everywhere throughout the South, are there occurrences

of this significance; I do not say as horrible, though I can answer

for it, that no year in the last ten has passed without something as

bad;[69] but constantly and everywhere of the same nature, of the same

impulse, the same reasoning, the same purposes, the same disregard of

principles of society, which no people can ever set aside and not have

reason to feel their situation insecure. It is false, it is the most

dangerous mistake possible to assume that this feeling of insecurity,

this annihilation of the only possible basis of security in human

society, is, in the slightest degree, the result of modern agitation.

It is the fundamental law of slavery, as distinctly appears in the

decision of Justice Ruffin, of North Carolina, in the case of the State

_v._ Mann.[70] The American system of slavery from its earliest years

(as shown p. 496, “Seaboard Slave States”), and without cessation to

the present time, has had this accompaniment. Less in the last twenty

years, if anything, than before. Would it not be more just to say that

this element of the present system was the cause of agitation? Must

not the determined policy of the South to deal with slavery on the

assumption that it is, in its present form, necessary, just, good, and

to be extended, strengthened, and perpetuated indefinitely, involve

constant agitation as a necessary incident of the means used to carry

it out? I do not say with you or with me, reader, but with a goodly

number of any civilized community? Do you not, who wish to think

otherwise, consider that it will always require what you must deem a

superior mind not to be overcome by incidents necessary to the carrying

out of this determination? And will not such agitation give renewed

sense of danger, and occasion renewed demands for assurance from us?

I have remarked before that in no single instance did I find an

inquiry of the owner or the overseer of a large plantation about the

poor whites of its vicinity fail to elicit an expression indicating

habitual irritation with them. This equally with the polished and

tranquil gentleman of South Carolina and the rude pioneer settler of

Texas, himself born a dirt-eating sand-hiller. It was evident in most

cases, and in one it was distinctly explained to me by a Louisianian

planter, that the reason of this was not merely the bad effect upon

the discipline of the plantation, which was had by the intercourse

between these people and the slaves, but that it was felt that the

contrast between the habits of the former—most of the time idle,

and when working, working only for their own benefit and without a

master—constantly offered suggestions and temptations to the slaves to

neglect their duty, to run away and live a vagabond life, as these poor

whites were seen to. Hence, one of the acknowledged advantages of very

large and isolated plantations, and hence, in part, the desire of every

planter to get possession of the land of any poor non-slaveholding

neighbour.

As few Southern writers seem to have noticed this, I suppose that few

Southerners are aware how universal with planters is this feeling.

My attention being early directed to the causes of the condition of

the poor whites, I never failed to make inquiries of planters, and of

intelligent men especially, about those in their neighbourhood; and

being soon struck by the constant recurrence of similar expressions

with regard to them, I was the more careful to introduce the subject at

every proper opportunity, and, I repeat, always with the same result.

I am afraid that the feeling of the South to the North is (more or

less defined in individual minds) of the same nature, and that the

contiguity of a people whose labourers take care of themselves, and

labour industriously without being owned, can never be felt to be safe

by slaveholders. That it must always be looked upon with apprehension,

with a sense of danger, more or less vague, more or less well defined,

but always sufficient to lead to efforts intended to counteract its

natural influence—its influence not so much with slaves, certainly

not alone with the slaves, but also with that important element of

population which reaps no profit from the good behaviour of the slaves.

In De Bow’s “Review” for January, 1850, will be found the following

passage in an article discussing the practicability of employing the

non-slaveholding whites in factories, the argument being that there

will be less danger of their becoming “Abolitionists” under such

circumstances than at present exists:-

“The great mass of our poor white population begin to understand

that they have rights, and that they, too, are entitled to some

of the sympathy which falls upon the suffering. They are fast

learning that there is an almost infinite world of industry

opening before them by which they can elevate themselves and

their families from wretchedness and ignorance to competence and

intelligence. It is this great upheaving of our masses that we

have to fear, so far as our institutions are concerned.”

It is, in the nature of things, while slaveholders refuse the

slightest concession to the spirit of the age—while, in their

legislation, they refuse to recognize, in the slightest degree, the

principles of social science under which we live, and must live, and

which every civilized people has fully adopted, that they should

endeavour to make it appear the fault of others that they do not feel

assured of safety and at ease with themselves; that they should try

to make their own ignorant people believe that it is from without all

danger is to be apprehended—all assurance of safety to be clamoured

for—that they should endeavour to make themselves believe it.[71]

Those who seriously propose to stop all agitation on the subject of

slavery, by causing the Abolitionists to refrain from proceedings

which cause apprehension at the South, by silencing all who entertain

sentiments the utterance of which is deemed a source of “danger to

Southern institutions,” by refraining themselves from all proceedings

which will be looked upon with alarm by their fellow-citizens of the

Slave States, can know very little of what would be required before the

South were satisfied. The destruction of some million dollars’ cost in

school and text books would be one of the first things, and yet but

a small item in the undertaking. Books which directly comment upon

slavery are considered comparatively safe, because their purpose being

defined, they can be guarded against. As is well understood, it is the

insidious attacks of a free press that are most feared. But is it well

understood what are felt to be “insidious attacks?” Some idea may be

formed from the following passages which I take, not from the heated

columns of a daily newspaper, but from the cool pages of the deliberate

De Bow’s “Review.” The apprehension they express is not of to-day; in

the first article from which I quote (which was published in the middle

of Mr. Pierce’s presidential term), reference is made to warnings of

the same character which have been sounded from time to time before;

and this very number of the “Review” contains a testimonial from

fifty-five Southern senators and representatives in Congress to the

“ability and accuracy” of its “exposition of the working of the system

of polity of the Southern States.”

“Our text books are abolition books. They are so to the extent of

their capacity.”... “We have been too careless and indifferent to

the import of these things.”

“And so long as we use such works as ‘Wayland’s Moral Science,’

and the abolition geographies, readers, and histories,

overrunning, as they do, with all sorts of slanders, caricatures,

and blood-thirsty sentiments, let us never complain of their

[northern Church people’s] use of that transitory romance [Uncle

Tom’s Cabin]. They seek to array our children by false ideas,

against the established ordinance of God; and it sometimes takes

effect. A professor in one of our Southern seminaries, not long

since placed in the hands of a pupil ‘Wayland’s Moral Science,’

and informed her that the chapter on slavery was heretical

and unscriptural, and that she would not be examined on that

chapter, and need not study it. _Perhaps_ she didn’t. But on the

day of examination she wished her teacher to tell her ‘if that

chapter was heretical how she was to know but they were all so?’

We might enumerate many other books of similar character and

tendencies. But we will refer to only one more—it is ‘Gilbert’s

Atlas’—though the real author’s name does not appear on the title

page. On the title page it is called ‘Appleton’s Complete Guide

of the World;’ published by D. Appleton & Co, New York. This is

an elegant and comprehensive volume, endorsed by the Appletons

and sent South, containing hidden lessons of the most fiendish

and murderous character that enraged fanaticism could conceive

or indite.[72] It is a sort of literary and scientific infernal

machine. And whatever the design may have been, the tendency

is as shocking as the imagination can picture.... This is the

artillery and these the implements England and our own recreant

sister States are employing to overturn the order of society

and the established forms of labour that date back beyond the

penning of the decalogue.... This book, and many other Northern

school-books scattered over the country, come within the range of

the statutes of this State, which provide for the imprisonment for

life or the infliction of the penalty of death upon any person who

shall ‘publish or distribute’ such works; and were I a citizen

of New Orleans, this work should not escape the attention of the

grand jury. But need I add more to convince the sceptical of the

necessity there is for the production of our own text-books,

and, may I not add, our own literature? Why should the land of

domestic servitude be less productive in the great works of the

mind now than when Homer evoked the arts, poetry, and eloquence

into existence? Moses wrote the Genesis of Creation, the Exodus of

Israel, and the laws of mankind? and when Cicero, Virgil, Horace,

St. John, and St. Paul became the instructors of the world?[73]...

They will want no cut-throat literature, no fire-brand moral

science ... nor Appleton’s ‘Complete Atlas,’ to encourage crimes

that would blanch the cheek of a pirate, nor any of the ulcerous

and polluting agencies issuing from the hot-beds of abolition

fanaticism.”

From an article on educational reform at the South, in the same

“Review,” 1856, I take the following indications of what, among other

Northern doings, are considered to imperil the South:—

“‘Lovell’s United States Speaker,’ the ‘National Reader,’ the

‘Young Ladies’ Reader,’ ‘Columbian Orator,’ ‘Scott’s Lessons,’

the ‘Village Reader,’ and numerous others, have been used for

years, and are all, in some respects, valuable compilations.

We apprehend, however, there are few parents or teachers who

are familiar with the whole of their contents, or they would

demand expurgated editions for the use of their children. _The

sickly sentimentality of the poet Cowper_, whose ear became so

‘pained,’ and his soul ‘sick with every day’s report of wrong and

outrage,’ that it made him cry out in agony for ‘a lodge in some

vast wilderness,’ where he might commune with howling wolves and

panthers on the blessings of _liberty_ (?), stamps its infectious

poison upon many of the pages of these works.”...

“From the American First Class Book, page 185, we quote another

more modern sentiment, which bears no less higher authority than

the name of the great Massachusetts statesman, Mr. Webster:”

Having burnt or expurgated Webster and Cowper, is it to be imagined

that the leaders of opinion in the South would yet be willing to permit

familiar intercourse between themselves and a people who allowed a book

containing ‘Such lines as these to circulate freely?—

“What is a man

If his chief good and market of his time

Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more.

Sure, He that made us with such large discourse,

Looking before and after, gave us not

That capability and Godlike reason,

To rust unused.”

What a dangerous sentiment to come by any chance to a slave! Is it

not? Are you, then, prepared to burn your Shakespeare? I will not

ask if you will have another book “expurgated,” of all passages the

tendency of which is to set the bondmen free.

If the security of life and property at the South must for ever

be dependent on the thoroughness with which the negro population is

prevented from acquiring knowledge; from thinking of themselves and

for themselves, it will never be felt to be greater than it is to-day.

Efforts made to increase this security will of themselves occasion

agitation, and agitation must counteract those efforts. Knowledge,

knowledge of what is going on elsewhere, of the condition of men

elsewhere, of what is thought elsewhere, must have increased currency

with every class of mankind in all parts of this continent, as it

increases in population, and the movements of its population increase

in activity and importance. No human laws, embargoes, or armies

and navies can prevent it. Do our utmost, we cannot go back of the

steam-engine, the telegraph, the cotton-gin, and the cylinder press.

The South has admitted steamboats and railroads. It was not practicable

to stop with these, and bar out all the rest that is peculiar to the

nineteenth century. Is it practicable to admit the machinery of modern

civilized life, and not stir up its free people? Is it practicable to

stir up its intermediate class, and keep its lowest torpid? Assuredly

the security which depends upon preventing either of these steps can

never be permanently increased; spite of all possible further extension

of slave territory, and dispersion and disconnection of plantations,

it must gradually lessen. As it lessens, the demand upon the nation

to supply new grounds of security must increase—increase continually,

until at length, this year, next year, or another, they conclusively

and hopelessly fail. It may cost us much or it may cost us little to

reach that point, but it is inevitably to be reached. It may be after

long and costly civil war, or longer and more costly foreign wars,

or it may be peaceably, sensibly, and soon, but it must come. The

annexation of Cuba, international fugitive slave laws,[74] the African

slave trade, judgments of the Supreme Court, and whatever else may

be first asked and given, will not prevent it—nothing the North will

do, nothing the North can do, will prevent it. The proximity of a

people who cannot hold labour in contempt; who cannot keep labourers

in ignorance and permanent dependence each upon another man; who

cannot have an effective censorship of the press, or a trustworthy

army of _mouchards_, prevents, and must always prevent, the South from

standing with the slightest confidence of safety on that policy which

it proclaims to be its only ground of safety. Nothing but a reversal

of the current of our Northern history for half a century, nothing, in

fact, but the enslavement of labour at the North, could in the nature

of things, give that security, even temporarily, to the capitalists of

labour at the South which they need.[75] Some demand of the South upon

the nation, acquiescence in which it holds essential to its safety,

must then at length be distinctly refused. And when, ten or twenty

years hence, if so be, this shall come to pass, what then is to happen

to us?

Dissolution?

This is what many Southern politicians avow, whenever they contemplate

such a contingency.

Why?

Because it is known that the people of the North are unwilling that

the Union should be dissolved, whereas they have no indisposition

to the only course which it will then be possible for the South to

adopt, for the sake of increasing the security of its citizens,

against insurrectionary movements of its slaves. This plainly would

be to arrange a systematic opportunity and method for the slaves

to labour, whenever they chose, and as much as they might choose,

in an orderly, peaceable, and wise way, for their own release and

improvement, each man for himself and those most dear to him; each man

by himself, independently, openly, with no occasion for combination,

secrecy, plots, or conspiracy. To prepare, for those disposed to avail

themselves of it, a field, either here or elsewhere, in which their

capability and Godlike reason, such as it may be, little or great, need

not be forced by law to rust unused, or brighten _only_ to the material

advantage of a master. This I must think to be consciously, even now,

the only final course of safety before every reflective Southern mind.

This, or——dissolution, and the chances of war.

* * * * *

[The above was written before Mr. Lincoln was spoken of as a candidate

for the Presidency.]

APPENDIX (A.)

THE CONDITION OF VIRGINIA.—STATISTICS.

1.

The _Richmond Enquirer_, a strong and influential pro-slavery newspaper

of Virginia, in advocating some railroad projects, thus describes the

progress of the State relatively to that of some of the Free States,

since the Revolution. (Dec. 29, 1852.)

“Virginia, anterior to the Revolution, and up to the adoption

of the Federal Constitution, contained more wealth and a larger

population than any other State of this Confederacy. * * *

“Virginia, from being first in point of wealth and political

power, has come down to the fifth in the former, and the fourth in

the latter. New York, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Ohio stand

above her in wealth, and all, but Massachusetts, in population and

political power. Three of these States are literally chequered

over with railroads and canals; and the fourth (Massachusetts)

with railroads alone. * * *

“But when we find that the population of the single city of New

York and its environs exceeds the whole free population of Eastern

Virginia, and the valley between the Blue Ridge and Alleghany, we

have cause to feel deeply for our situation. Philadelphia herself

contains a population far greater than the whole free population

of Eastern Virginia. The little State of Massachusetts has an

aggregate wealth exceeding that of Virginia by more than one

hundred and twenty-six millions of dollars—a State, too, which is

incapable of subsisting its inhabitants from the production of

its soil. And New York, which was as much below Massachusetts, at

the adoption of the Federal Constitution, in wealth and power, as

the latter was below Virginia, now exceeds the wealth of both.

While the aggregate wealth of New York, in 1850, amounted to

$1,080,309,216, that of Virginia was $436,701,082—a difference

in favour of the former of $643,608,134. The unwrought mineral

wealth of Virginia exceeds that of New York. The climate and soil

are better; the back country, with equal improvements, would

contribute as much.”

The same journal adds, on another occasion:—

“In no State of the Confederacy do the facilities for

manufacturing operations exist in greater profusion than

in Virginia. Every condition essential to success in these

employments is found here in prodigal abundance, and in a

peculiarly convenient combination. First, we have a limitless

supply of water power—the cheapest of motors—in localities easy of

access. So abundant is this supply of water power that no value

is attached to it distinct from the adjacent lands, except in the

vicinity of the larger towns. On the Potomac and its tributaries;

on the Rappahannock; on the James and its tributaries; on the

Roanoke and its tributaries; on the Holston, the Kanawha, and

other streams, numberless sites may now be found where the supply

of water power is sufficient for the purposes of a Lawrence or a

Lowell. Nor is there any want of material for building at these

localities; timber and granite are abundant; and, to complete the

circle of advantages, the climate is genial and healthful, and the

soil eminently productive. * * * Another advantage which Virginia

possesses, for the manufacture of cotton, is the proximity of its

mills to the raw material. At the present prices of the staple,

the value of this advantage is estimated at 10 per cent.”

The _Lynchburg Virginian_, another newspaper of respectability, having

a similar purpose in hand, namely, to induce capitalists to invest

their money in enterprises that shall benefit the State, observes that—

“The coal fields of Virginia are the most extensive in the world,

and her coal is of the best and purest quality. Her iron deposits

are altogether inexhaustible, and in many instances so pure that

it is malleable in its primitive state; and many of these deposits

in the immediate vicinity of extensive coal-fields. She has, too,

very extensive deposits of copper, lead, and gypsum. Her rivers

are numerous and bold, generally with fall enough for extensive

water power.

“A remarkable feature in the mining and manufacturing prospects

of Virginia is, the ease and economy with which all her minerals

are mined; instead of being, as in England and elsewhere,

generally imbedded deep within the bowels of the earth, from

which they can be got only with great labour and at great cost,

ours are found everywhere on the hills and slopes, with their

ledges dipping in the direction of the plains below. Why, then,

should not Virginia at once employ at least half of her labour and

capital in mining and manufacturing? Richmond could as profitably

manufacture all cotton and woollen goods as Lowell, or any other

town in New England. Why should not Lynchburg, with all her

promised facility of getting coal and pig metal, manufacture all

articles of iron and steel just as cheaply, and yet as profitably,

as any portion of the Northern States? Why should not every town

and village on the line of every railroad in the State, erect

their shops, in which they may manufacture a thousand articles

of daily consumption, just as good and cheap as they may be made

anywhere? * * *

“Dependent upon Europe and the North for almost every yard of

cloth, and every coat, and boot, and hat we wear; for our axes,

scythes, tubs, and buckets—in short, for everything except our

bread and meat!—it must occur to the South that if our relations

with the North should ever be severed—and how soon they may be,

none can know (may God avert it long!)—we would, in all the South,

not be able to clothe ourselves. We could not fell our forests,

plough our fields, nor mow our meadows. In fact, we would be

reduced to a state more abject than we are willing to look at even

prospectively. And yet, with all these things staring us in the

face, we shut our eyes, and go on blindfold.”

At the Convention for the formation of the Virginia State Agricultural

Society, in 1852, the draft of an address to the farmers of the State

was read, approved, and once adopted by the Convention. The vote by

which it was adopted was soon afterwards reconsidered, and it was again

approved and adopted. A second time it was reconsidered; and finally

it was rejected, on the ground that there were admissions in it that

would feed the fanaticism of the Abolitionists. No one argued against

it on the ground of the falsity or inaccuracy of these admissions.

Twenty of the most respectable proprietors in the State, immediately

afterwards, believing it to contain “matter of grave import,” which

should not be suppressed for such a reason, united in requesting a copy

of it for publication. In the note of these gentlemen to the author,

they express the belief that Virginia now “possesses the richest soil,

most genial climate, and cheapest labour on earth.” The author of the

address, in his reply, says: “Fanaticism is a fool for whose vagaries I

am not responsible. I am a pro-slavery man—I believe it, at this time,

impossible to abolish it, and not desirable if it were possible.”

The address was accordingly published, and I make the following

extracts from it:—

“ADDRESS TO THE FARMERS OF VIRGINIA.

“‘The Southern States stand foremost in agricultural labour,

though they hold but the third rank in population.’ At the head of

these Southern States, in production, in extent of territory, in

climate, in soil, and in population, stands the Commonwealth of

Virginia. She is a nation of farmers. Eight-tenths of her industry

is expended upon the soil; but less than one-third of her domain

is in pasturage, or under the plough.

“Out of somewhat more than thirty-nine millions of acres,

she tills but little over ten millions of acres, or about

twenty-six and a quarter per cent., whilst New York has subdued

about forty-one per cent., or twelve and a quarter out of her

twenty-nine and a half millions of acres: and Massachusetts, with

her sterile soil and inhospitable climate, has reclaimed from the

forest, the quarry, and the marsh, about forty-two and a half per

cent., or two and one-eighth out of her little territory of five

millions of acres. Yet, according to the census of 1840, only

six-tenths of the labour of New York, and four-tenths of that of

Massachusetts, or, relatively, one-fifth and two-fifths less than

our own, is expended upon agriculture. * * *

“The live stock of Virginia are worth only three dollars and

thirty-one cents for every arable acre; but in New York they are

worth six dollars and seven cents, and in Massachusetts four

dollars and fifty-two cents.

“The proportion of hay for the same quantity of land is,

for Virginia, eighty-one pounds; for New York, six hundred

and seventy-nine pounds; for Massachusetts, six hundred and

eighty-four pounds. * * *

“With access to the same markets, and with hundreds of mechanics

of our own, who can vie with the best Northern manufacturers, we

find that our implements are inferior, that the New York farmer

spends upon his nearly three times as much as we do upon ours, and

the Massachusetts farmer more than double. * * *

“Manure is indispensable to good husbandry. Judging from the

history of agriculture in all other countries, we may safely say,

that farming can never attain to continued perfection where manure

is not put on with an unsparing hand. By far the larger part of

this can only be made by stock, which should, at the same time,

be made the source of profit, at least sufficient to pay the cost

of their keep, so that, _other things being equal_, it is a safe

rule to estimate the condition of a farming district by the amount

of live stock it may possess, and the provision made for their

sustenance. Applied in this instance, we see that the New York

farmer has invested in live stock two dollars and seventy-six

cents, and the Massachusetts farmer one dollar and twenty-one

cents per acre more than the Virginia farmer. In pasturage we

cannot tell the difference. It is well, perhaps, for the honour

of the State, that we cannot. But in hay, New York has five

hundred and ninety-eight pounds, and Massachusetts six hundred

and three pounds more per acre than we have. This, however, does

not present the true state of the case. Land-locked by mountain

barriers, as yet impassable for the ordinary agricultural staples,

or debarred from their production by distance and prohibitory

rates of transportation, most of the wealth and exports of many

considerable portions of our State consists of live stock alone.

What proportion these parts bear to the whole, we have been unable

definitely to ascertain; but it is, no doubt, so great as to

warrant us in assuming a much more considerable disparity than the

statistics show in the live stock of the whole Atlantic slope, as

compared with New York and Massachusetts. And we shall appreciate,

still more highly, the skill of the Northern farmer, if we reflect

that a readier market for every, the most trivial, product of his

farm, operates as a constant temptation to break up his rotation

and diminish his stock.

“In the above figures, carefully calculated from the data of

authentic documents,[76] we find no cause for self-gratulation,

but some food for meditation. They are not without use to those

who would improve the future by the past. They show that we have

not done our part in the bringing of land into cultivation; that,

notwithstanding natural advantages which greatly exceed those

of the two States drawn into parallel with Virginia, we are yet

behind them both—that with forty and sixty per cent. respectively

of their industry devoted to other pursuits, into which it has

been lured by prospects of greater gain, they have done more than

we have done. * * *

“Whilst our population has increased for the last ten years,

in a ratio of 11·66, that of New York has increased in a ratio

of 27·52, and that of Massachusetts at the still heavier and

more startling rate of 34·81. With a territorial area thirty

per cent. larger than New York, we have but little more than

one-third of her Congressional representation; and Massachusetts,

only one-eighth our size, comes within two of our number of

representatives, we being cut down to thirteen, while she rises

to eleven. And thus we, who once swayed the councils of the

Union, find our power gone, and our influence on the wane, at a

time when both are of vital importance to our prosperity, if not

to our safety. As other States accumulate the means of material

greatness, and glide past us on the road to wealth and empire, we

slight the warnings of dull statistics, and drive lazily along

the field of ancient customs, or stop the _plough_, to speed the

_politician_—should we not, in too many cases, say with more

propriety, the _demagogue_?

“State pride is a good thing; it is one mode in which patriotism

is manifested. But it is not always a wise one. Certainly not,

when it makes us content on small grounds. And when it smothers up

improvement in self-satisfaction, it is a most pernicious thing.

We have much to be proud of in Virginia. In intellect and fitness

to command, in personal and social qualities, in high tone and

noble bearing, in loyalty, in generosity, and magnanimity, and

disinterestedness, above all, in moral purity, we once stood—let

us hope, still stand—preeminent among our sister States. But the

possession and practice of these virtues do not comprise our whole

duty as men or as citizens. The great decree which has gone forth

ordaining that we shall ‘increase, and multiply, and replenish

the earth,’ enjoins upon us quite other duties, which cannot be

neglected with impunity; so we have found out by experience—for

we _have_ neglected these duties. And when we contemplate our

field of labour, and the work we have done in it, we cannot but

observe the sad contrast between capacity and achievement. With

a wide-spread domain, with a kindly soil, with a climate whose

sun radiates fertility, and whose very dews distil abundance, we

find our inheritance so wasted that the eye aches to behold the

prospect.”

2.

The Census of 1850 gives the following values to agricultural land in

the adjoining States of Virginia and Pennsylvania.

In Virginia. In Pennsylvania.

No. of acres improved land in farms, 10,360,135 8,626,619

” unimproved, 15,792,176 6,294,728

Cash value of farms, $216,401,543 $407,876,099

—$8 an acre. —$25 an acre.

Considering that, at the Revolution, Virginia had nearly twice the

population of Pennsylvania, was in possession of much more wealth

or disposable capital, and had much the best natural facilities for

external commerce and internal communication, if her political and

social constitution had been and had continued equally good, and her

people equally industrious and enterprising with those of Pennsylvania,

there is no reason why the value of her farms should not have been,

at this time, at least equal to those of Pennsylvania. Were it so, it

appears that Virginia, in that particular alone, would now be richer

than she is by four hundred and thirty millions of dollars.

If it should be thought that this difference between the value of land

in Virginia and Pennsylvania is in some degree due to more fertile

soils in the latter, a similar comparison may be made with the other

adjoining Free State, and old State of New Jersey, the climate of

which, owing to its vicinity to the ocean, differs imperceptibly from

that of Virginia, while its soil is decidedly less fertile, taking both

States on an average. The average value of farming-land in New Jersey

is recorded at $44.

Give this value to the Virginia farms, and the difference between it

and their present value would buy, at a large valuation, all the slaves

now in the State, send them to Africa, provide each family of them five

hundred dollars to start with when they reached there, and leave still

a surplus which, divided among the present white population of the

State, would give between two and three thousand dollars to each family.

Some Southern writers have lately objected to comparisons of density of

population, as indications of the prosperity of communities. Between

two adjoining communities, however, where there are no restrictions

upon the movements of the populations, and when the people are so ready

to move as both those of Pennsylvania, and New Jersey, and of Virginia

have shown themselves to be, the price of land must indicate with

considerable exactness the comparative value or desirableness of it,

all things considered, to live upon. The Virginians do not admit, and

have no occasion to do so, that Pennsylvania and New Jersey have any

advantage over Virginia, in soil, in climate, or in any natural quality.

3.

In intellectual productions, the same general comparative barrenness is

noticeable.

_From the Richmond Whig._

“We receive nearly all our books from Northern or foreign

authors—gotten up, printed by Northern or foreign publishers—while

we have among us numberless men of ripe scholarship, profound

acquirements, elegant and forcible writers—men willing to

devote themselves to such labour, _only a Southern book is not

patronized_. The North usually scowls at it, ridicules it, or

damns it with faint praise; and the South takes on a like hue and

complexion and neglects it. We have printers and publishers able,

willing, and competent to publish, but, such is the _apathy_ on

the part of Southern people, that it involves hazard to Southern

publishers to put them out. Indeed, until recently, almost all

the publications, even of Southern books, issued (and that was

their only hope of success) from Northern houses. The last chance

now of getting a Southern book sold, is to manage to secure the

favourable notice of the Northern press, and then the South buys

it. Our magazines and periodicals languish for support.”

Mr. Howison, “The Virginia Historian,” observes:

“The question might be asked, Where is the literature of Virginia?

and it would not be easily answered. It is a melancholy fact, that

her people have never been a reading people. In the mass they

have shown an indifference to polite literature and education

in general, depressing to the mind that wishes to see them

respectable and happy.”

“It is with pain,” says the same authority, “that we are compelled to

speak of the horrible cloud of ignorance that rests on Virginia,” and

he computes that (1848) there are in the State 166,000 youth, between

seven and sixteen years of age, and of these 126,000 attend no school

at all, and receive no education except what can be imparted by poor

and ignorant parents. Besides these, he reckons 449,087 slaves and

48,852 free negroes, with few exceptions, wholly uneducated.

“The policy which discourages further extension of knowledge among

them is necessary: but the fact remains unchanged, that they exist

among us, _a huge mass of mind, almost entirely unenlightened_. We

fear that the most favourable estimates will leave, in our State,

683,000 rational beings who are destitute of the merest rudiments

of knowledge.”

APPENDIX (B.)

THE SLAVE TRADE IN VIRGINIA.

_From Chambers’s Journal._

“The exposure of ordinary goods in a store is not more open to the

public than are the sales of slaves in Richmond. By consulting

the local newspapers, I learned that the sales take place by

auction every morning in the offices of certain brokers, who, as

I understood by the terms of their advertisements, purchased or

received slaves for sale on commission.

“Where the street was in which the brokers conducted their

business, I did not know; but the discovery was easily made.

Rambling down the main street in the city, I found that the

subject of my search was a narrow and short thoroughfare, turning

off to the left, and terminating in a similar cross thoroughfare.

Both streets, lined with brick houses, were dull and silent. There

was not a person to whom I could put a question. Looking about, I

observed the office of a commission agent, and into it I stepped.

Conceive the idea of a large shop with two windows, and a door

between; no shelving or counters inside; the interior a spacious,

dismal apartment, not well swept; the only furniture a desk at one

of the windows, and a bench at one side of the shop, three feet

high, with two steps to it from the floor. I say, conceive the

idea of this dismal-looking place, with nobody in it but three

negro children, who, as I entered, were playing at auctioneering

each other. An intensely black little negro, of four or five years

of age, was standing on the bench, or block, as it is called, with

an equally black girl, about a year younger, by his side, whom he

was pretending to sell by bids to another black child, who was

rolling about the floor.

“My appearance did not interrupt the merriment. The little

auctioneer continued his mimic play, and appeared to enjoy the

joke of selling the girl, who stood demurely by his side.

“‘Fifty dolla for de gal—fifty dolla—fifty dolla—I sell dis

here fine gal for fifty dolla,’ was uttered with extraordinary

volubility by the woolly-headed urchin, accompanied with

appropriate gestures, in imitation, doubtless, of the scenes he

had seen enacted daily on the spot. I spoke a few words to the

little creatures, but was scarcely understood and the fun went on

as if I had not been present: so I left them, happy in rehearsing

what was likely soon to be their own fate.

“At another office of a similar character, on the opposite side

of the street, I was more successful. Here, on inquiry, I was

respectfully informed, by a person in attendance, that the sale

would take place the following morning at half-past nine o’clock.

“Next day I set out accordingly, after breakfast, for the scene

of operations, in which there was now a little more life. Two or

three persons were lounging about, smoking cigars; and, looking

along the street, I observed that three red flags were projected

from the doors of those offices in which sales were to occur. On

each flag was pinned a piece of paper, notifying the articles to

be sold. The number of lots was not great. On the first was the

following announcement:—‘Will be sold this morning, at half-past

nine o’clock, a Man and a Boy.’

“It was already the appointed hour; but as no company had

assembled, I entered and took a seat by the fire. The office,

provided with a few deal forms and chairs, a desk at one of the

windows, and a block accessible by a few steps, was tenantless,

save by a gentleman who was arranging papers at the desk, and to

whom I had addressed myself on the previous evening. Minute after

minute passed, and still nobody entered. There was clearly no

hurry in going to business. I felt almost like an intruder, and

had formed the resolution of departing, in order to look into the

other offices, when the person referred to left his desk, and came

and seated himself opposite to me at the fire.

“‘You are an Englishman,’ said he, looking me steadily in the

face; ‘do you want to purchase?’

“‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘I am an Englishman; but I do not intend to

purchase. I am travelling about for information, and I shall feel

obliged by your letting me know the prices at which negro servants

are sold.’

“‘I will do so with much pleasure,’ was the answer; ‘do you mean

field-hands or house-servants?’

“‘All kinds,’ I replied; ‘I wish to get all the information I can.’

“With much politeness, the gentleman stepped to his desk, and

began to draw up a note of prices. This, however, seemed to

require careful consideration; and while the note was preparing, a

lanky person, in a wide-awake hat, and chewing tobacco, entered,

and took the chair just vacated. He had scarcely seated himself,

when, on looking towards the door, I observed the subjects of

sale—the man and boy indicated by the paper on the red flag—enter

together, and quietly walk to a form at the back of the shop,

whence, as the day was chilly, they edged themselves towards the

fire, in the corner where I was seated. I was now between the two

parties—the white man on the right, and the old and young negro on

the left—and I waited to see what would take place.

“The sight of the negroes at once attracted the attention of

Wide-awake. Chewing with vigour, he kept keenly eyeing the pair,

as if to see what they were good for. Under this searching gaze,

the man and boy were a little abashed, but said nothing. Their

appearance had little of the repulsiveness we are apt to associate

with the idea of slaves. They were dressed in a gray woollen coat,

pants, and waistcoat, coloured cotton neckcloths, clean shirts,

coarse woollen stockings, and stout shoes. The man wore a black

hat; the boy was bareheaded. Moved by a sudden impulse, Wide-awake

left his seat, and rounding the back of my chair, began to grasp

at the man’s arms, as if to feel their muscular capacity. He then

examined his hands and fingers; and, last of all, told him to open

his mouth and show his teeth, which he did in a submissive manner.

Having finished these examinations, Wide-awake resumed his seat,

and chewed on in silence as before.

“I thought it was but fair that I should now have my turn of

investigation, and accordingly asked the elder negro what was his

age. He said he did not know. I next inquired how old the boy was.

He said he was seven years of age. On asking the man if the boy

was his son, he said he was not—he was his cousin. I was going

into other particulars, when the office-keeper approached, and

handed me the note he had been preparing; at the same time making

the observation that the market was dull at present, and that

there never could be a more favourable opportunity of buying. I

thanked him for the trouble which he had taken; and now submit a

copy of his price-current:

Best Men, 18 to 25 years old 1200 to 1300 dollars.

Fair do. do. do. 950 to 1050 ”

Boys, 5 feet 850 to 950 ”

Do., 4 feet 8 inches 700 to 800 ”

Do., 4 feet 5 inches 500 to 600 ”

Do., 4 feet 375 to 450 ”

Young Women 800 to 1000 ”

Girls, 5 feet 750 to 850 ”

Do., 4 feet 9 inches 700 to 750 ”

Do., 4 feet 350 to 450 ”

(Signed) _________________________

Richmond, Virginia.

“Leaving this document for future consideration, I pass on to a

history of the day’s proceedings. It was now ten minutes to ten

o’clock, and Wide-awake and I being alike tired of waiting, we

went off in quest of sales further up the street. Passing the

second office, in which also nobody was to be seen, we were more

fortunate at the third. Here according to the announcement on the

paper stuck to the flag, there were to be sold, ‘A woman and three

children; a young woman, three men, a middle-aged woman, and a

little boy.’ Already a crowd had met, composed, I should think,

of persons mostly from the cotton-plantations of the South. A few

were seated near a fire on the right-hand side, and others stood

round an iron stove in the middle of the apartment. The whole

place had a dilapidated appearance. From a back window, there

was a view into a ruinous court-yard; beyond which, in a hollow,

accessible by a side lane, stood a shabby brick house, on which

the word _Jail_ was inscribed in large black letters on a white

ground. I imagined it to be a depôt for the reception of negroes.

“On my arrival, and while making these preliminary observations,

the lots for sale had not made their appearance. In about five

minutes afterwards, they were ushered in, one after the other,

under the charge of a mulatto, who seemed to act as principal

assistant. I saw no whips, chains, or any other engine of force.

Nor did such appear to be required. All the lots took their

seats on two long forms near the stove; none showed any signs of

resistance; nor did any one utter a word. Their manner was that of

perfect humility and resignation.

“As soon as all were seated, there was a general examination of

their respective merits, by feeling their arms, looking into

their mouths, and investigating the quality of their hands and

fingers—this last being evidently an important particular. Yet

there was no abrupt rudeness in making these examinations—no

coarse or domineering language was employed. The three negro men

were dressed in the usual manner—in gray woollen clothing. The

woman, with three children, excited my peculiar attention. She

was neatly attired, with a coloured handkerchief bound around her

head, and wore a white apron over her gown. Her children were all

girls, one of them a baby at the breast three months old, and the

others two and three years of age respectively, rigged out with

clean white pinafores. There was not a tear or an emotion visible

in the whole party. Everything seemed to be considered as a matter

of course; and the change of owners was possibly looked forward to

with as much indifference as ordinary hired servants anticipate a

removal from one employer to another.

“While intending purchasers were proceeding with personal

examinations of the several lots, I took the liberty of putting a

few questions to the mother of the children. The following was our

conversation:—

“‘Are you a married woman?’

“‘Yes, sir.’

“‘How many children have you had?’

“‘Seven.’

“‘Where is your husband?’

“‘In Madison county.’

“‘When did you part from him?’

“‘On Wednesday—two days ago.’

“‘Were you sorry to part from him?’

“‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, with a deep sigh; ‘my heart was a’most

broke.’

“‘Why is your master selling you?’

“‘I don’t know—he wants money to buy some land—suppose he sells me

for that.’

“There might not be a word of truth in these answers, for I had no

means of testing their correctness; but the woman seemed to speak

unreservedly, and I am inclined to think that she said nothing but

what, if necessary, could be substantiated. I spoke, also, to the

young woman who was seated near her. She, like the others, was

perfectly black, and appeared stout and healthy, of which some of

the persons present assured themselves by feeling her arms and

ankles, looking into her mouth, and causing her to stand up. She

told me she had several brothers and sisters, but did not know

where they were. She said she was a house-servant, and would be

glad to be bought by a good master—looking at me, as if I should

not be unacceptable.

“I have said that there was an entire absence of emotion in the

looks of men, women, and children, thus seated preparatory to

being sold. This does not correspond with the ordinary accounts of

slave-sales, which are represented as tearful and harrowing. My

belief is, that none of the parties felt deeply on the subject, or

at least that any distress they experienced was but momentary—soon

passed away, and was forgotten. One of my reasons for this opinion

rests on a trifling incident which occurred. While waiting for

the commencement of the sale, one of the gentlemen present amused

himself with a pointer dog, which, at command, stood on its hind

legs, and took pieces of bread from his pocket. These tricks

greatly entertained the row of negroes, old and young; and the

poor woman, whose heart three minutes before was almost broken,

now laughed as heartily as any one.

“‘Sale is going to commence—this way, gentlemen,’ cried a man

at the door to a number of loungers outside; and all having

assembled, the mulatto assistant led the woman and her children

to the block, which he helped her to mount. There she stood, with

her infant at the breast, and one of her girls at each side. The

auctioneer, a handsome, gentlemanly personage, took his place,

with one foot on an old deal chair with a broken back, and the

other raised on the somewhat more elevated block. It was a

striking scene.

“‘Well, gentlemen,’ began the salesman, ‘here is a capital woman

and her three children, all in good health—what do you say for

them? Give me an offer. (Nobody speaks.) I put up the whole lot

at 850 dollars—850 dollars—850 dollars (speaking very fast)—850

dollars. Will no one advance upon that? A very extraordinary

bargain, gentlemen. A fine, healthy baby. Hold it up. (Mulatto

goes up the first step of the block; takes the baby from the

woman’s breast, and holds it aloft with one hand, so as to show

that it was a veritable sucking baby.) That will do. A woman,

still young, and three children, all for 850 dollars. An advance,

if you please, gentlemen. (A voice bids 860.) Thank you, sir,

860; any one bids more? (A second voice says, 870; and so on the

bidding goes as far as 890 dollars, when it stops.) That won’t

do, gentlemen. I cannot take such a low price. (After a pause,

addressing the mulatto): She may go down.’ Down from the block the

woman and her children were therefore conducted by the assistant,

and, as if nothing had occurred, they calmly resumed their seats

by the stove.

“The next lot brought forward was one of the men. The assistant

beckoning to him with his hand, requested him to come behind a

canvas screen, of two leaves, which was standing near the back

window. The man placidly rose, and having been placed behind the

screen, was ordered to take off his clothes, which he did without

a word or look of remonstrance. About a dozen gentlemen crowded to

the spot while the poor fellow was stripping himself, and as soon

as he stood on the floor, bare from top to toe, a most rigorous

scrutiny of his person was instituted. The clear black skin, back

and front, was viewed all over for sores from disease; and there

was no part of his body left unexamined. The man was told to open

and shut his hands, asked if he could pick cotton, and every tooth

in his head was scrupulously looked at. The investigation being at

an end, he was ordered to dress himself; and having done so, was

requested to walk to the block.

The ceremony of offering him for competition was gone through as

before, but no one would bid. The other two men, after undergoing

similar examinations behind the screen, were also put up, but with

the same result. Nobody would bid for them, and they were all sent

back to their seats. It seemed as if the company had conspired not

to buy anything that day. Probably some imperfections had been

detected in the personal qualities of the negroes. Be this as it

may, the auctioneer, perhaps a little out of temper from his want

of success, walked off to his desk, and the affair was so far at

an end.

“‘This way, gentlemen—this way!’ was heard from a voice outside,

and the company immediately hived off to the second establishment.

At this office there was a young woman, and also a man, for sale.

The woman was put up first at 500 dollars; and possessing some

recommendable qualities, the bidding for her was run as high as

710 dollars, at which she was knocked down to a purchaser. The

man, after the customary examination behind the screen, was put up

at 700 dollars; but a small imperfection having been observed in

his person, no one would bid for him; and he was ordered down.

“‘This way, gentlemen, this way—down the street, if you please!’

was now shouted by a person in the employment of the first firm,

to whose office all very willingly adjourned—one migratory

company, it will be perceived, serving all the slave-auctions in

the place. In going in the crowd, I went to see what should be

the fate of the man and boy, with whom I had already had some

communication.

“There the pair, the two cousins, sat by the fire, just where I

had left them an hour ago. The boy was put up first.

“‘Come along, my man—jump up; there’s a good boy!’ said one of

the partners, a bulky and respectable looking person, with a gold

chain and bunch of seals; at the same time getting on the block.

With alacrity the little fellow came forward, and, mounting the

steps, stood by his side. The forms in front were filled by the

company; and as I seated myself, I found that my old companion,

Wide-awake, was close at hand, still chewing and spitting at a

great rate.

“‘Now, gentlemen,’ said the auctioneer, putting his hand on the

shoulder of the boy, ‘here is a very fine boy, seven years of

age, warranted sound—what do you say for him? I put him up at 500

dollars—500 dollars (speaking quick, his right hand raised up, and

coming down on the open palm of his left)—500 dollars. Any one

say more than 500 dollars? (560 is bid.) 560 dollars. Nonsense!

Just look at him. See how high he is. (He draws the lot in front

of him, and shows that the little fellow’s head comes up to his

breast.) You see he is a fine, tall, healthy boy. Look at his

hands.’

“Several step forward, and cause the boy to open and shut his

hands—the flexibility of the small fingers, black on the one side,

and whitish on the other, being well looked to. The hands, and

also the mouth, having given satisfaction, an advance is made to

570, then to 580 dollars.

“‘Gentlemen, that is a very poor price for a boy of this size.

(Addressing the lot)—Go down, my boy, and show them how you can

run.’

“The boy, seemingly happy to do as he was bid, went down from the

block, and ran smartly across the floor several times; the eyes of

every one in the room following him.

“‘Now that will do. Get up again. (Boy mounts the block, the steps

being rather deep for his short legs; but the auctioneer kindly

lends him a hand.) Come, gentlemen, you see this is a first-rate

lot. (590—600—610—620—630 dollars are bid.) I will sell him for

630 dollars. (Right hand coming down on left.) Last call. 630

dollars, once—630 dollars, twice. (A pause; hand sinks.) Gone!’

“The boy having descended, the man was desired to come forward;

and after the usual scrutiny behind a screen, he took his place on

the block.

“‘Well, now, gentlemen,’ said the auctioneer, ‘here is a right

prime lot. Look at this man; strong, healthy, able-bodied; could

not be a better hand for field-work. He can drive a waggon or

anything. What do you say for him? I offer the man at the low

price of 800 dollars—he is well worth 1200 dollars. Come, make

an advance, if you please. 800 dollars said for the man (a

bid); thank you; 810 dollars—810 dollars—810 dollars (several

bids)—820—830—850—860—going at 860—going. Gentlemen, this is far

below his value. A strong-boned man, fit for any kind of heavy

work. Just take a look at him. (Addressing the lot): Walk down.

(Lot dismounts, and walks from one side of the shop to the other.

When about to reascend the block, a gentleman, who is smoking

a cigar, examines his mouth with his fingers. Lot resumes his

place.) Pray, gentlemen, be quick (continues the auctioneer);

I must sell him, and 860 dollars are only bid for the man—860

dollars. (A fresh run of bids to 945 dollars.) 945 dollars,

once—945 dollars, twice (looking slowly round, to see if all were

done), 945 dollars. Going—going—(hand drops)—gone!’

“Such were a forenoon’s experiences in the slave-market of

Richmond. Everything is described precisely as it occurred,

without passion or prejudice. It would not have been difficult

to be sentimental on a subject which appeals so strongly to the

feelings, but I have preferred telling the simple truth. In a

subsequent chapter I shall endeavour to offer some general views

of slavery in its social and political relations.”

APPENDIX (C.)

COST OF LABOUR IN THE BORDER STATES.

From a native Virginian, who has resided in New York:

“_To the Editor of the N. Y. Daily Times._

“SIR—You will not object, I think, to receive an endorsement

from a Southern man, of the statements contained in number seven

of ‘Letters on the Productions, Industry, and Resources of the

Southern States’ [by Mr. Olmsted], published in your issue on

Thursday last * * *

“Where you would see one white labourer on a Northern farm,

scores of blacks should appear on the Virginian plantation, _the

best of them only performing each day one-fourth a white man’s

daily task, and all requiring an incessant watch to get even this

small modicum of labour_. Yet they eat as much again as a white

man, must have their two suits of clothes and shoes yearly, and

although the heartiest, healthiest looking men and women anywhere

on earth, actually lose for their owners or employers one-sixth

their time on account of real or pretended sickness. Be assured,

our model Virginia farmer has his hands full, and is not to be

envied as a jolly fox-hunting idler, lording it over ‘ranks of

slaves in chains.’ No, sir; he must be up by ‘the dawn’s early

light,’ and head the column, direct in person the commencing

operations, urging, and coaxing; must praise and punish—but too

glad to reward the meritorious, granting liberty (_i. e._ leave of

absence) often to his own servant, that he dare not take himself,

because he must not leave home for fear something will go wrong

ere his return. Hence but too many give up, to overseers or other

irresponsible persons, the care and management of their estates,

rather than undergo such constant annoyance and confinement.

Poor culture, scanty crops, and worn-out land, is the inevitable

result; and yet, harassed and trammeled as they are, no one but a

Southerner regards them with the slightest degree of compassion

or even forbearance; and our good friends, the Abolitionists,

would have ‘all the rest of mankind’ rank them with pirates

and cut-throats. But my object in this communication is not to

sympathize with nor ask sympathy on behalf of slaveholders. For,

however sinning or sinned against, they seem quite able to take

their own part, if molested; and are remarkably indifferent,

withal, as to the opinions expressed by ignorant ranters

concerning them.

“If I have the ability, my desire is to draw a parallel between

the state and condition of Northern and Southern farmers and

farming. The Northern farmer does undoubtedly experience a full

share of those troubles and cares attendant even upon the most

easy and favourable system of farming; but, sir, can he have any

such responsibility as that resting upon the owner of from 50 to

300 ignorant, lazy negroes?

* * * * *

“You must plough deep, follow up quickly, and sow with powerful

fertilizers, attend closely to the growing crop, gather in rapidly

before blight or mildew can come and destroy, says our Northern

farmer. On a farm of three hundred acres, thus managed with five

hands, two extra during harvest, I can raise thirty bushels of

wheat to the acre. Now picture the condition of him South, and

hear his answer. With from three to fifteen hundred acres of land,

and a host of negroes great and small, his cares and troubles are

without end. ‘The hands,’ able men and women, to say nothing of

children, and old ones laid by from age or other infirmity, have

wants innumerable. Some are sick, others pretend to be so, many

obstinate, indolent, or fractious—each class requires different

treatment; so that without mentioning the actual daily wants,

as provisions, clothing, etc., etc., the poor man’s time, and

thoughts—indeed, every faculty of mind—must be exercised on behalf

of those who have no minds of their own.

“His answer, then, to the Northern farmer is: ‘I have not one hand

on my place capable and willing to do the work you name.’ They

tell me that ‘five of them could not perform the task required

of one.’ They have never been used to do it, and no amount of

force or persuasion will induce them to try. Their task is so

much per day; all over that I agree to pay them for, at the same

rate I allow free labourers—but ’tis seldom they make extra time,

except to get money enough to buy tobacco, rum, or sometimes fine

clothes. Can it be wondered at that systematic farming, such as

we see North and East, is unknown or not practised to any great

degree South? The two systems will not harmonize.

“R. J. W.”

From a native New Yorker, who has resided in Virginia:

“_To the Editor of the New York Daily Times._

“I have read with deep interest the series of letters from

the South, published in your columns. Circumstances have made

me quite familiar with the field of your correspondent’s

investigation, much more familiar than he is at present, and

yet I am happy to say, that his letters are more satisfactory

than any I have ever seen relating to the South. It is now

about ten years since, going from this State, I first became

familiar with those facts in regard to the results of slave

labour, etc., that your correspondent and his readers are

so much surprised at. I have talked those subjects over

as he is doing, with the planters along the shores of the

Chesapeake, and on both sides of the James River, through

the Tidewater, the middle and the mountainous districts east

of the Blue Ridge, and in many of those rich counties in the

Valley of Virginia. I may add that, subsequently, spending my

winters at the South for my health, I have become well nigh

as familiar with the States of North and South Carolina, and

Georgia, as I am with Virginia. I have, therefore, almost of

necessity, given not a little thought to the questions your

correspondent is discussing.

“His statement, in regard to the comparative value of slave

and free-labour, will surprise those who have given little or

no attention to the subject. I wish to confirm his statements

on this subject. In Eastern Virginia I have repeatedly been

told that the task of one cord of wood a day, or five cords a

week, rain or shine, is the general task, and one of the most

profitable day’s work that the slave does for his master. And

this, it should be remembered, is generally pine wood, cut

from trees as straight and beautiful as ever grew. The reason

of this ‘profitableness’ is the fact that the labour requires

so little mental effort. The grand secret of the difference

between free and slave labour is, that the latter is without

intelligence, and without motive. If the former, in Western

New York, has a piece of work to perform, the first thought

is, how it can be done with the least labour, and the most

expeditiously. He thinks, he plans, before he commences, and

while about his labour. His mind labours as much as his body,

and this mental labour saves a vast deal of physical labour.

Besides this, he is urged on by the strongest motives. He

enjoys the products of his labour. The more intelligent

and earnest his labours, the richer are his rewards. Slave

labour is exactly the opposite of this. It is unintelligent

labour—labour without thought—without plan—without motive. It

is little more than brute force. To one who has not witnessed

it, it is utterly inconceivable how little labour a slave,

or a company of slaves, will accomplish in a given time.

Their awkwardness, their slowness, the utter absence of all

skill and ingenuity in accomplishing the work before them,

are absolutely painful to one who has been accustomed to

seeing work done with any sort of spirit and life. Often they

spend hours in doing what, with a little thought, might be

despatched in a few moments, or perhaps avoided altogether.

This is a necessary result of employing labour which is

without intelligence and without motive. I have often thought

of a remark made to me by a planter, in New Kent County,

Virginia. We were riding past a field where some of his

hands were making a sort of wicker-work fence, peculiar to

Eastern Virginia. ‘There,’ said he, in a decidedly fretted

tone, ‘those “boys” have been —— days in making that piece

of fence.’ I expressed my astonishment that they could have

spent so much time, and yet have accomplished so very little.

He assured me it was so—and after a slight pause, the tones

of his voice entirely changed, said: ‘Well, I believe they

have done as well as I would in their circumstances!’ And

so it is. The slave is without motive, without inducement

to exertion. His food, his clothing, and all his wants are

supplied as they are, without care on his part, and when

these are supplied he has nothing more to hope for. He can

make no provision for old age, he can lay up nothing for

his children, he has no voice at all in the disposal of the

results of his earnings. What cares he whether his labour is

productive or unproductive. His principal care seems to be to

accomplish just as little as possible. I have said that the

slaves were without ingenuity—I must qualify that remark. I

have been amused and astonished at their exceeding ingenuity

in avoiding and slighting the work that was required of them.

It has often seemed to me that their principal mental efforts

were in this direction, and I think your correspondent will

find universal testimony that they have decided talent in

this line.

“H. W. P.”

In a volume entitled “Notes on Uncle Tom’s Cabin; being a

Logical Answer to its Allegations and Inferences against Slavery

as an Institution,” by the Rev. E. J. Stearns, of Maryland (much

the most thorough review of that work made from the Southern

stand-point), the author, who is a New-Englander by birth,

shows, by an elaborate calculation, that in Maryland, the cost

of a negro, at twenty-one years of age, has been, to the man

who raised him, eight hundred dollars. Six _per cent._ interest

on this cost, with one and three-quarters per cent. for life

insurance, per annum, makes the lowest wages of a negro, under

the most favourable circumstances, sixty-two dollars a year (or

five dollars a month), _paid in advance_, in the shape of food

and clothing. The author, whose object is to prove that the

slaveholder is not guilty, as Mrs. Stowe intimates, of _stealing_

the negroes’ labour, proceeds, as follows, to show that he pays a

great deal more for it than Mrs. Stowe’s neighbours in New England

do, for the labour they hire:—

“If now we add to this (what every New-Englander who has

lived at the South _knows_), that Quashy does not do more

than one-third, or, at the very utmost, one-half as much

work as an able-bodied labourer on a farm at the North; and

that, for this he receives, besides the five dollars above

mentioned, his food, clothing, and shelter, with medical

attendance and nursing when sick, and no deduction for lost

time, even though he should be sick for years, while the

‘farm-hand’ at the North gets only ten or twelve dollars, and

has to clothe himself out of it, and pay his own doctor’s

and nurse’s bill in sickness, to say nothing of lost time,

I think we shall come to the conclusion if there has been

stealing anywhere, it has not been from Quashy.”—P. 25.

“I recollect, the first time I saw Quashy at work in the

field, I was struck by the lazy, listless manner in which he

raised his hoe. It reminded me of the working-beam of the

engine on the steam-boat that I had just landed from—fifteen

strokes a minute; but there was this difference: that,

whereas the working-beam kept steadily at it, Quashy, on the

contrary, would stop about every five strokes and lean upon

his hoe, and look around, apparently congratulating himself

upon the amount of work he had accomplished.

“Mrs. Stowe may well call Quashy ‘shiftless.’ One of my

father’s hired men—who was with him seven years—did more

work in that time than an average negro would do in his

whole life. Nay, I myself have done more work in a day,—and

followed it up, too—than I ever saw a negro do, and I was

considered remarkably lazy with the plough or hoe.”—P. 142.

APPENDIX (D.)

STATISTICS OF THE GEORGIA SEABOARD.

The notes here following are derived from a volume entitled

“White’s Statistics of Georgia,” a large octavo of seven hundred

pages, compiled and published in the State. A special section

of the book is devoted to the condition of the trade of each

county, while a comparison is also attempted to be given, from the

personal observation of the compiler, of the comparative social,

moral, and religious properties of the people. Thus, so far as the

plan has been thoroughly executed, an estimate is presented, not

only of the ordinary commercial demand of the citizens, but, so to

speak, of the state of their intellectual and moral market.

The counties referred to by Mr. Gregg are in the second tier

from the sea in South Carolina. I shall give statistics from Mr.

White, and other authorities named in the note,[77] with regard

to all the second tier counties of Georgia. What of good soil

to be brought into cultivation, without a heavy expenditure at

starting, there was originally in these counties begun to be first

occupied by whites about 1740. It was not till nearly twenty years

after this that slavery obtained the slightest footing in them,

and it was not till about thirty years ago that they had begun to

seriously deteriorate in production. There is yet some rich land

upon the alluvial bottoms of the numerous rivers, which, rising

above, pass through these counties toward the ocean; and here many

wealthy planters still remain, owning a large number of slaves,

and there has been recently a considerable increase of production

of some parts owing to the employment of capital in draining

marshes, the riches of which have previously been considered

impregnable.[78] In general, however, this whole range of country

is now quite barren, and most of the land at present cultivated

will not probably yield one third as large a crop for the same

expenditure of labour as would fair Mississippi cotton land.

The slaves formerly owned here have therefore been very largely

transferred westward, and the land they have worn out is left for

the non-slaveholding whites to make the best of.

As an instructive contrast, I place in an adjoining column with

the statistics of these counties those of the counties which

bound each of them on the east. In these there is a much larger

proportion of rich alluvial soil, and they contain the famous

“sea island” cotton plantations, as well as the Georgian rice

plantations. The valuable soil is still entirely possessed, as

will be evident, by large planters and slave owners, the usual

monopolizing effect of slavery being in this instance increased by

the peculiar local insalubrity of the coast.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Bullock County._—(The Central Railroad, the best conducted

road in all the South, passes either through this county or

close beside its northern boundary, for a distance of fifty

miles. It is watered by the Ogeechee and Connauchee and a

number of smaller rivers. On the larger rivers there is yet a

considerable amount of productive land.)

COAST COUNTIES.

_Bryan County_, adjoining Bullock county, on the coast.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Population._—Whites, 2,000; slaves, 1,000. Average amount

of property to each white family, $1,570. State tax for each

white family, $2.95.

Mr. White omits his usual statistics of trade. Both in this

and the adjoining coast county of Bryan, the poor people, as

well as the planters, are in the habit of dealing directly

with Savannah, as described in “Seaboard Slave States,” p.

414, and there are probably no established tradesmen in

either.

COAST COUNTIES.

_Population._—Whites, 1,000; slaves, 2,400. Average amount of

property to each white family, $5,302 (fourfold what it is in

Bullock county). State tax to each white family, $7.

No statistics of trade, again.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Soil._The _soil_ is described by Mr. White as generally poor,

with some productive “hummock” and river tracts.

COAST COUNTIES.

_Soil._—“The soil, under the present system of culture,

cannot, without rest and manure, be made to produce more

than one half as much as when new.” This appears to refer

particularly to the rice plantations.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Education._—“No newspapers are taken, and few books

read. The school fund was once sufficient to educate many

poor children, but owing to bad management it has become

exhausted.” Thus says Mr. White. The census returns show,

however, a public school expenditure of $150 per annum, and a

private expenditure of $3,000, divided among fifteen schools,

which is one for eighty square miles. This is so much better

than usual, that, with Mr. White’s remarks, I am inclined to

think it an error.

COAST COUNTIES.

_Education._—There is no academy, and there are no schools,

except those supported by the “Poor School Fund” (a State

provision for the children of indigent parents). “The children of

the wealthy are either educated by private teachers or sent to

school in the more favoured portions of the country; [the vicinity

of Savannah, where there is a celebrated and well endowed academy,

and of Liberty, where there are others, accounts for this;] the

population is too sparse to furnish pupils enough to sustain a

regular school” (large tracts of land being held by the planters,

though wholly unproductive, to prevent the settlement of poor

whites near their negroes, as one in this county informed me).

According to the census returns, there were eight schools (one to

twenty-five square miles) of all kinds, with an average of twelve

pupils each. Total expenditure for each school, $38 per annum.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Character of the people._—“By industry and economy, they

manage to supply their wants, which, however, are few.

Many rely a great deal on game. * * * As far as temperance

is concerned, they are behind the times. Whiskey has its

votaries. Those who have attempted to show the citizens the

folly and ill consequences of intemperance have been insulted

and threatened. Even ministers of our holy religion have

publicly denounced the motives and efforts of those who have

attempted to form temperance societies.”

COAST COUNTIES.

_Character of the people._—No remarks.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Religion._—“The most numerous [sects] are the

Anti-Missionary [hard shell?] Baptists.” Ten church edifices;

average value, $145. No Sunday school or other public

libraries.

COAST COUNTIES.

_Religion._—The county contains eleven church edifices;

average value, $500. No Sunday school or other public

libraries.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Tatnall County._

_Population._—Whites, 2,000; slaves, 600. Average amount of

property to each white family, $901.

Capital invested in trade, 4,200.

COAST COUNTIES.

_Liberty County._

_Population._—Whites, 2,000; slaves, 6,000. Average amount of

property to each white family, $6,330.

State tax to each white family, $10.

Capital invested in trade, $3,850.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Soil._—“Light and sandy, except on the streams, which is

stiff.”

COAST COUNTIES.

_Soil._—“The practice has been to wear out the virgin soils,

and clear new lands. * * * Much waste land.”

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Education._—“Education is neglected.” Eight public schools

(1 to 148 square miles), with sixteen pupils each. Annual

cost of maintenance of each school, $150. No other schools;

no Sunday school or other libraries.

COAST COUNTIES.

_Education._—“Excellent schools are found. * * * And it is

believed that a greater number of young men from Liberty

county graduate from our _colleges_ than from any other

section of Georgia.” There are five “academies,” with an

average of nineteen pupils each. Five public schools (1 to

160 square miles), maintained at an average expenditure of

$15.40 per annum each. No libraries found in the census

canvass of 1849. Mr. White states that the Medway and

Newport Library Society had, in 1845, “about seven hundred

volumes, in a very bad state of preservation.” This library

was established by some New England immigrants before the

prohibition of slavery was annulled in the province. The

early settlers of the county were chiefly from Massachusetts.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Character of the people._—“Sober, industrious and

hospitable” (phrases applied to every county not specially

noted as conspicuous for some vice or virtue of its

inhabitants.)

COAST COUNTIES.

_Character of the people._—“Generally upright and virtuous,

and they are unsurpassed for the great attention paid to the

duties of religion.”

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Religion._—Sixteen church edifices, valued at 938 each.

According to Mr. White, however, there are “about thirty

churches” in the county.

COAST COUNTIES.

_Religion._—Ten church edifices; average value, $1,200.

SECOND TIER COUNTIES.

_Wayne County._

_Population._—Whites, 930; slaves, 350. Average amount of

property for each white family, $898.

State tax, $1.23.

Capital invested in trade, $4,200.

COAST COUNTIES.

_McIntosh County_, broadest on the sea.

_Population._—Whites, 1,300; slaves, 4,400. Average amount of

property for each white family, $7,287, or eight times as much

as in Wayne.