CHAPTER VI.

SOUTH CAROLINA AND GEORGIA, SURVEYED.

_Savannah._—While riding, aimlessly, in the suburbs, I came upon a

square field, in the midst of an open pine-wood, partially inclosed

with a dilapidated wooden paling. It proved to be a grave-yard for

negroes. Dismounting, and fastening my horse to a gate-post, I walked

in, and found much in the monuments to interest me. Some of these

were mere billets of wood, others were of brick and marble, and some

were pieces of plank, cut in the ordinary form of tomb-stones. Many

family-lots were inclosed with railings, and a few flowers or evergreen

shrubs had sometimes been planted on the graves; but these were

generally broken down and withered, and the ground was overgrown with

weeds and briars. I spent some time in examining the inscriptions, the

greater number of which were evidently painted by self-taught negroes,

and were curiously illustrative both of their condition and character.

I transcribed a few of them, as literally as possible, as follow:

“SACRED

TO THE MEMORY

OF HENRY. Gleve, ho

Dide JANUARY 19 1849

Age 44.”

* * * * *

“BALDWING

In men of CHARLES

who died NOV

20. THE 1846

aged 62 years Blessed are the

dead who dieth

in the LORD

Even so said

the SPerit. For

the Rest From

Thair”

[The remainder rotted off.]

* * * * *

“DEAR

WIFE OF

JAMES DELBUG

BORN 1814 DIED 1852.”

* * * * *

In Memr

y, of,

M a

gare

-t. Born

August

29 and

died oc

tober 29 1852

[The following on marble.]

“To record the worth fidelity and virtue of Reynolda Watts, (who

died on the 2d day of May 1829 at the age of 24 years, in giving

birth to her 3d child).

“Reared from infancy by an affectionate mistress and trained

by her in the paths of virtue, She was strictly moral in her

deportment, faithful and devoted in her duty and heart and soul a”

[Sand drifted over the remainder.]

There were a few others, of similar character to the above, erected

by whites to the memory of favourite servants. The following was on a

large brick tomb:—

“This tablet is erected to record the demise of Rev. HENRY

CUNNINGHAM, Founder and subsequent pastor of the 2d African Church

for 39 years, who yielded his spirit to its master the 29 of March

1842, aged 83 years.”

[Followed by an inscription to the memory of Mrs. Cunningham.]

“This vault is erected by the 2d African Church, as a token of

respect.”

The following is upon a large stone table. The reader will observe

its date; but I must add that, while in North Carolina, I heard of

two recent occasions, in which public religious services had been

interrupted, and the preachers—very estimable coloured men—publicly

whipped.

“Sacred to the memory of Andrew Brian pastor of 1st colored

Baptist church in Savannah. God was Pleased to lay his honour

near his heart and impress the worth and weight of souls upon his

mind that he was constrained to Preach the Gospel to dieng world,

particularly to the sable sons of africa. though he labored under

many disadvantage yet thought in the school of Christ, he was

able to bring out new and old out of the treasury And he has done

more good among the poor slaves than all the learned Doctors in

America, He was im prisoned for the Gospel without any ceremony

was severely whipped. But while under the lash he told his

prosecutor he rejoiced not only to be whipped but he was willing

for to suffer death for the cause of CHRIST.

“He continued preaching the Gospel until Oct. 6 1812. He was

supposed to be 96 years of age, his remains were interd with

peculiar respect an address was delivered by the Rev. Mr Johnston

Dr. Kolluck Thomas Williams and Henry Cunningham He was an honour

to human nature an ornament to religion and a friend to mankind.

His memory is still precious in the (hearts) of the living.

“Afflicted long he bore the rod

With calm submission to his maker God.

His mind was tranquil and serene

No terrors in his looks was seen

A SAVIOURS smile dispelled the gloom

And smoothed the passage to the tomb.

“I heard a voice from Heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are

the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth! Yea saith the

Spirit that they may rest from the labours.

“This stone is erected by the First Colored Church as a token of

love for their most faithful pastor. A. D. 1821.”

_Plantation, February_—. I left town yesterday morning, on horseback,

with a letter in my pocket to Mr. X., under whose roof I am now

writing. The weather was fine, and, indeed, since I left Virginia, the

weather for out-of-door purposes has been as fine as can be imagined.

The exercise of walking or of riding warms one, at any time between

sunrise and sunset, sufficiently to allow an overcoat to be dispensed

with, while the air is yet brisk and stimulating. The public-houses are

overcrowded with Northerners, who congratulate themselves on having

escaped from the severe cold, of which they hear from home.

All, however, who know the country, out of the large towns, say that

they have suffered more from cold here than ever at the North; because,

except at a few first-class hotels, and in the better sort of mansions

and plantation residences, any provision for keeping houses warm is so

entirely neglected. It is, indeed, too cool to sit quietly, even at

midday, out of sunshine, and at night it is often frosty. As a general

rule, with such exceptions as I have indicated, it will be full two

hours after one has asked for a fire in his room before the servants

can be got to make it. The expedient of closing a door or window

to exclude a draught of cold air seems really to be unknown to the

negroes. From the time I left Richmond, until I arrived at Charleston,

I never but once knew a servant to close the door on leaving a room,

unless he was requested at the moment to do so.

The public houses of the smaller towns, and the country houses

generally, are so loosely built, and so rarely have unbroken glass

windows, that to sit by a fire, and to avoid remaining in a draught at

the same time, is not to be expected.

As the number of Northerners, and especially of invalids, who

come hither in winter, is every year increasing, more comfortable

accommodations along the line of travel must soon be provided; if not

by native, then by Northern enterprise. Some of the hotels in Florida,

indeed, are already, I understand, under the management of Northerners;

and this winter, cooks and waiters have been procured for them from

the North. I observe, also, that one of them advertises that meats and

vegetables are received by every steamer from New York.

Whenever comfortable quarters, and means of conveyance are extensively

provided, at not immoderately great expense, there must be a great

migration here every winter. The climate and the scenery, as well as

the society of the more wealthy planters’ families, are attractive,

not to invalids alone, but even more to men and women who are able to

enjoy invigorating recreations. Nowhere in the world could a man, with

a sound body and a quiet conscience, live more pleasantly, at least

as a guest, it seems to me, than here where I am. I was awakened this

morning by a servant making a fire in my chamber. Opening the window,

I found a clear, brisk air, but without frost—the mercury standing

at 35° F. There was not a sign of winter, except that a few cypress

trees, hung with seed attached to pretty pendulous tassels, were

leafless. A grove which surrounded the house was all in dark verdure;

there were green oranges on trees nearer the window; the buds were

swelling on a jessamine-vine, and a number of camelia-japonicas were

in full bloom; one of them, at least seven feet high, and a large

compact shrub, must have had several hundred blossoms on it. Sparrows

were chirping, doves cooing, and a mocking-bird whistling loudly.

I walked to the stable, and saw clean and neatly-dressed negroes

grooming thorough-bred horses, which pawed the ground, and tossed their

heads, and drew deep inspirations, and danced as they were led out,

in exuberance of animal spirits; and I felt as they did. We drove ten

miles to church, in the forenoon, with the carriage-top thrown back,

and with our overcoats laid aside; nevertheless, when we returned, and

came into the house, we found a crackling wood fire, as comfortable as

it was cheerful. Two lads, the sons of my host, had returned the night

before from a “marooning party,” with a boat-load of venison, wild

fowl, and fish; and at dinner this evening there were delicacies which

are to be had in perfection, it is said, nowhere else than on this

coast. The woods and waters around us abound, not only with game, but

with most interesting subjects of observation to the naturalist and the

artist. Everything encourages cheerfulness, and invites to healthful

life.

Now to think how people are baking in their oven-houses at home, or

waddling out in the deep snow or mud, or across the frozen ruts,

wrapped up to a Falstaffian rotundity in flannels and furs, one can but

wonder that those, who have means, stay there, any more than these stay

here in summer; and that my host would no more think of doing than the

wild-goose.

But I must tell how I got here, and what I saw by the way.

A narrow belt of cleared land—“vacant lots”—only separated the

town from the pine-forest—that great broad forest which extends

uninterruptedly, and merely dotted with a few small corn and cotton

fields, from Delaware to Louisiana.

Having some doubt about the road, I asked a direction of a man on

horseback, who overtook and was passing me. In reply, he said it was

a straight road, and we should go in company for a mile or two. He

inquired if I was a stranger; and, when he heard that I was from the

North, and now first visiting the South, he remarked that there was “no

better place for me to go to than that for which I had inquired. Mr.

X. was a very fine man—rich, got a splendid plantation, lived well,

had plenty of company always, and there were a number of other show

plantations near his. He reckoned I would visit some of them.”

I asked what he meant by “show plantations.” “Plantations belonging to

rich people,” he said, “where they had everything fixed up nice. There

were several places that had that name; their owners always went out

and lived on them part of the year, and kept a kind of open house, and

were always ready to receive company. He reckoned I might go and stay a

month round on them kind of places on —— river, and it would not cost

me a cent. They always had a great many Northerners going to see them,

those gentlemen had. Almost every Northerner that came here was invited

right out to visit some of them; and, in summer, a good many of them

went to the North themselves.”

(It was not till long afterwards, long after the above paragraph was

first printed, that I fully comprehended the significance of the

statement, that on the show plantations it would not cost me a cent.)

During the forenoon my road continued broad and straight, and I was

told that it was the chief outlet and thoroughfare of a very extensive

agricultural district. There was very little land in cultivation within

sight of the road, however; not a mile of it fenced, in twenty, and

the only houses were log-cabins. The soil varied from a coarse, clean,

yellow sand, to a dark, brown, sandy loam. There were indications that

much of the land had, at some time, been under cultivation—had been

worn out, and deserted.

Long teams of mules, driven by negroes, toiled slowly towards the

town, with loads of rice or cotton. A stagecoach, with six horses to

drag it through the heavy road, covered me, as it passed, with dust;

and once or twice, I met a stylish carriage with fashionably-clad

gentlemen and ladies and primly-liveried negro-servants; but much the

greatest traffic of the road was done by small one-horse carts, driven

by white men, or women.

These carts, all but their wheels, which come from the North, look

as if they were made by their owners, in the woods, with no better

tools than axes and jack-knives. Very little iron is used in their

construction; the different parts being held together by wooden

pins, and lashings of hide. The harness is made chiefly of ropes and

undressed hide; but there is always a high-peaked riding-saddle, in

which the driver prefers to sit, rather than on his cart. Once, I met

a woman riding in this way, with a load of children in the cart behind

her. From the axle-tree often hung a gourd, or an iron kettle. One man

carried a rifle on his pommel. Sometimes, these carts would contain a

single bale of cotton, more commonly, an assorted cargo of maize, sweet

potatoes, poultry, game, hides, and peltry, with, always, some bundles

of corn-leaves, to be fed to the horse. Women and children were often

passengers, or travelled on foot, in company with the carts, which were

usually furnished with a low tilt. Many of them, I found, had been two

or three days on the road, bringing down a little crop to market; whole

families coming with it, to get reclothed with the proceeds.

The men with the carts were generally slight, with high cheek-bones

and sunken eyes, and were of less than the usual stature of the

Anglo-Saxon race. They were dressed in long-skirted homespun coats,

wore slouched hats, and heavy boots, outside their trousers. As they

met me, they usually bowed, and often offered a remark upon the

weather, or the roads, in a bold, but not uncourteous manner—showing

themselves to be, at least, in one respect, better off than the

majority of European peasants, whose educated servility of character

rarely fails to manifest itself, when they meet a well-dressed stranger.

The household markets of most of the Southern towns seem to be mainly

supplied by the poor country people, who, driving in this style, bring

all sorts of produce to exchange for such small stores and articles

of apparel as they must needs obtain from the shops. Sometimes, owing

to the great extent of the back country from which the supplies are

gathered, they are offered in great abundance and variety: at other

times, from the want of regular market-men, there will be a scarcity,

and prices will be very high.

A stranger cannot but express surprise and amusement at the appearance

and manners of these country traffickers in the market-place. The

“wild Irish” hardly differ more from the English gentry than these

rustics from the better class of planters and towns-people, with whom

the traveller more commonly comes in contact. Their language even is

almost incomprehensible, and seems exceedingly droll, to a Northern

man. I have found it quite impossible to report it. I shall not soon

forget the figure of a little old white woman, wearing a man’s hat,

smoking a pipe, driving a little black bull with reins; sitting herself

bolt upright, upon the axle-tree of a little truck, on which she was

returning from market. I was riding with a gentleman of the town at

the time, and, as she bowed to him with an expression of ineffable

self-satisfaction, I asked if he knew her. He had known her for twenty

years, he said, and until lately she had always come into town about

once a week, on foot, bringing fowls, eggs, potatoes, or herbs, for

sale in a basket. The bull she had probably picked up astray, when a

calf, and reared and broken it herself; and the cart and harness she

had made herself; but he did not think anybody in the land felt richer

than she did now, or prouder of her establishment.

In the afternoon, I left the main road, and, towards night, reached

a much more cultivated district. The forest of pines still extended

uninterruptedly on one side of the way, but on the other was a

continued succession of very large fields, of rich dark soil—evidently

reclaimed swamp-land—which had been cultivated the previous year,

in Sea Island cotton. Beyond them, a flat surface of still lower

land, with a silver thread of water curling through it, extended,

Holland-like, to the horizon. Usually at as great a distance as a

quarter of a mile from the road, and from half a mile to a mile apart,

were the residences of the planters—white houses, with groves of

evergreen trees about them; and between these and the road were little

villages of slave-cabins.

My directions not having been sufficiently explicit, I rode in,

by a private lane, to one of these. It consisted of some thirty

neatly-whitewashed cottages, with a broad avenue, planted with

Pride-of-China trees between them.

The cottages were framed buildings, boarded on the outside, with

shingle roofs and brick chimneys; they stood fifty feet apart, with

gardens and pig-yards, enclosed by palings, between them. At one, which

was evidently the “sick house,” or hospital, there were several negroes

of both sexes, wrapped in blankets, and reclining on the door steps

or on the ground, basking in the sunshine. Some of them looked ill,

but all were chatting and laughing as I rode up to make an inquiry. I

learned that it was not the plantation I was intending to visit, and

received a direction, as usual, so indistinct and incorrect that it led

me wrong.

At another plantation which I soon afterwards reached, I found the

“settlement” arranged in the same way, the cabins only being of a

slightly different form. In the middle of one row was a well-house, and

opposite it, on the other row, was a mill-house, with stones, at which

the negroes grind their corn. It is a kind of pestle and mortar; and I

was informed afterwards that the negroes prefer to take their allowance

of corn and crack it for themselves, rather than to receive meal,

because they think the mill-ground meal does not make as sweet bread.

At the head of the settlement, in a garden looking down the street, was

an overseer’s house, and here the road divided, running each way at

right angles; on one side to barns and a landing on the river, on the

other toward the mansion of the proprietor. A negro boy opened the gate

of the latter, and I entered.

On either side, at fifty feet distant, were rows of old live oak trees,

their branches and twigs slightly hung with a delicate fringe of gray

moss, and their dark, shining, green foliage, meeting and intermingling

naturally but densely overhead. The sunlight streamed through, and

played aslant the lustrous leaves, and fluttering pendulous moss; the

arch was low and broad; the trunks were huge and gnarled, and there

was a heavy groining of strong, rough, knotty, branches. I stopped my

horse and held my breath; I thought of old Kit North’s rhapsody on

trees; and it was no rhapsody—it was all here, and real: “Light, shade,

shelter, coolness, freshness, music, dew, and dreams dropping through

their umbrageous twilight—dropping direct, soft, sweet, soothing, and

restorative from heaven.”

Alas! no angels; only little black babies, toddling about with an

older child or two to watch them, occupied the aisle. At the upper

end was the owner’s mansion, with a circular court-yard around it,

and an irregular plantation of great trees; one of the oaks, as I

afterwards learned, seven feet in diameter of trunk, and covering with

its branches a circle of one hundred and twenty feet in diameter. As I

approached it, a smart servant came out to take my horse. I obtained

from him a direction to the residence of the gentleman I was searching

for, and rode away, glad that I had stumbled into so charming a place.

After riding a few miles further I reached my destination.

Mr. X. has two plantations on the river, besides a large tract of

poor pine forest land, extending some miles back upon the upland, and

reaching above the malarious region. In the upper part of this pine

land is a house, occupied by his overseer during the malarious season,

when it is dangerous for any but negroes to remain during the night

in the vicinity of the swamps or rice-fields. Even those few who have

been born in the region, and have grown up subject to the malaria,

are said to be generally weakly and short-lived. The negroes do not

enjoy as good health on rice plantations as elsewhere; and the greater

difficulty with which their lives are preserved, through infancy

especially, shows that the subtle poison of the miasma is not innocuous

to them; but Mr. X. boasts a steady increase of his negro stock, of

five per cent, per annum, which is better than is averaged on the

plantations of the interior.

The plantation which contains Mr. X.’s winter residence has but a small

extent of rice land, the greater part of it being reclaimed upland

swamp soil, suitable for the culture of Sea Island cotton. The other

plantation contains over five hundred acres of rice-land, fitted for

irrigation; the remainder is unusually fertile reclaimed upland swamp,

and some hundred acres of it are cultivated for maize and Sea Island

cotton.

There is a “negro settlement” on each; but both plantations, although

a mile or two apart, are worked together as one, under one overseer—the

hands being drafted from one to another as their labour is required.

Somewhat over seven hundred acres are at the present time under the

plough in the two plantations: the whole number of negroes is two

hundred, and they are reckoned to be equal to about one hundred prime

hands—an unusual strength for that number of all classes. The overseer

lives, in winter, near the settlement of the larger plantation, Mr. X.

near that of the smaller.

It is an old family estate, inherited by Mr. X.’s wife, who, with her

children, were born and brought up upon it in close intimacy with

the negroes, a large proportion of whom were also included in her

inheritance, or have been since born upon the estate. Mr. X. himself

is a New England farmer’s son, and has been a successful merchant and

manufacturer.

The patriarchal institution should be seen here under its most

favourable aspects; not only from the ties of long family association,

common traditions, common memories, and, if ever, common interests,

between the slaves and their rulers, but, also, from the practical

talent for organization and administration, gained among the rugged

fields, the complicated looms, and the exact and comprehensive

counting-houses of New England, which directs the labour.

The house-servants are more intelligent, understand and perform their

duties better, and are more appropriately dressed, than any I have seen

before. The labour required of them is light, and they are treated with

much more consideration for their health and comfort than is usually

given to that of free domestics. They live in brick cabins, adjoining

the house and stables, and one of these, into which I have looked, is

neatly and comfortably furnished. Several of the house-servants, as is

usual, are mulattoes, and good-looking. The mulattoes are generally

preferred for in-door occupations. Slaves brought up to house-work

dread to be employed at field-labour; and those accustomed to the

comparatively unconstrained life of the negro-settlement, detest the

close control and careful movements required of the house-servants.

It is a punishment for a lazy field-hand, to employ him in menial

duties at the house, as it is to set a sneaking sailor to do the work

of a cabin-servant; and it is equally a punishment to a neglectful

house-servant, to banish him to the field-gangs. All the household

economy is, of course, carried on in a style appropriate to a wealthy

gentleman’s residence—not more so, nor less so, that I observe, than in

an establishment of similar grade at the North.

It is a custom with Mr. X., when on the estate, to look each day at

all the work going on, inspect the buildings, boats, embankments, and

sluice-ways, and examine the sick. Yesterday I accompanied him in one

of these daily rounds.

After a ride of several miles through the woods, in the rear of the

plantations we came to his largest negro-settlement. There was a

street, or common, two hundred feet wide, on which the cabins of the

negroes fronted. Each cabin was a framed building, the walls boarded

and whitewashed on the outside, lathed and plastered within, the roof

shingled; forty-two feet long, twenty-one feet wide, divided into two

family tenements, each twenty-one by twenty-one; each tenement divided

into three rooms—one, the common household apartment, twenty-one by

ten; each of the others (bedrooms), ten by ten. There was a brick

fire-place in the middle of the long side of each living room, the

chimneys rising in one, in the middle of the roof. Besides these rooms,

each tenement had a cock-loft, entered by steps from the household

room. Each tenement is occupied, on an average, by five persons. There

were in them closets, with locks and keys, and a varying quantity

of rude furniture. Each cabin stood two hundred feet from the next,

and the street in front of them being two hundred feet wide, they

were just that distance apart each way. The people were nearly all

absent at work, and had locked their outer doors, taking the keys with

them. Each cabin has a front and back door, and each room a window,

closed by a wooden shutter, swinging outward, on hinges. Between each

tenement and the next house, is a small piece of ground, inclosed with

palings, in which are coops of fowl with chickens, hovels for nests,

and for sows with pig. There were a great many fowls in the street. The

negroes’ swine are allowed to run in the woods, each owner having his

own distinguished by a peculiar mark. In the rear of the yards were

gardens—a half-acre to each family. Internally the cabins appeared

dirty and disordered, which was rather a pleasant indication that their

home-life was not much interfered with, though I found certain police

regulations were enforced.

The cabin nearest the overseer’s house was used as a nursery. Having

driven up to this, Mr. X. inquired first of an old nurse how the

children were; whether there had been any births since his last visit;

spoke to two convalescent young mothers, who were lounging on the floor

of the portico, with the children, and then asked if there were any

sick people.

“Nobody, oney dat boy, Sam, sar.”

“What Sam is that?”

“Dat little Sam, sar; Tom’s Sue’s Sam, sar.”

“What’s the matter with him?”

“Don’ ’spec dere’s noting much de matter wid him now, sar. He came in

Sa’dy, complainin’ he had de stomach-ache, an’ I gin him some ile, sar;

’spec he mus’ be well, dis time, but he din go out dis mornin’.”

“Well, I’ll see to him.”

Mr. X. went to Tom’s Sue’s cabin, looked at the boy, and, concluding

that he was well, though he lay abed, and pretended to cry with pain,

ordered him to go out to work. Then, meeting the overseer, who was

just riding away, on some business of the plantation, he remained some

time in conversation with him, while I occupied myself in making a

sketch of the nursery and street of the settlement in my note-book.

On the verandah and the steps of the nursery, there were twenty-seven

children, most of them infants, that had been left there by their

mothers, while they were working their tasks in the fields. They

probably make a visit to them once or twice during the day, to nurse

them, and receive them to take to their cabins, or where they like,

when they have finished their tasks—generally in the middle of the

afternoon. The older children were fed with porridge, by the general

nurse. A number of girls, eight or ten years old, were occupied in

holding and tending the youngest infants. Those a little older—the

crawlers—were in the pen, and those big enough to toddle were playing

on the steps, or before the house. Some of these, with two or three

bigger ones, were singing and dancing about a fire that they had made

on the ground. They were not at all disturbed or interrupted in their

amusement by the presence of their owner and myself. At twelve years

of age, the children are first put to regular field-work; until then

no labour is required of them, except, perhaps, occasionally they are

charged with some light kind of duty, such as frightening birds from

corn. When first sent to the field, one quarter of an able-bodied

hand’s days work is ordinarily allotted to them, as their task.

From the settlement, we drove to the “mill”—not a flouring mill,

though I believe there is a run of stones in it—but a monster barn,

with more extensive and better machinery for threshing and storing

rice, driven by a steam-engine, than I have ever seen used for grain

before. Adjoining the mill-house were shops and sheds, in which

blacksmiths, carpenters, and other mechanics—all slaves, belonging to

Mr. X.—were at work. He called my attention to the excellence of their

workmanship, and said that they exercised as much ingenuity and skill

as the ordinary mechanics that he was used to employ in New England.

He pointed out to me some carpenter’s work, a part of which had been

executed by a New England mechanic, and a part by one of his own hands,

which indicated that the latter was much the better workman.

I was gratified by this, for I had been so often told, in Virginia,

by gentlemen anxious to convince me that the negro was incapable of

being educated or improved to a condition in which it would be safe to

trust him with himself—that no negro-mechanic could ever be taught,

or induced to work carefully or nicely—that I had begun to believe it

might be so.

We were attended through the mill-house by a respectable-looking,

orderly, and quiet-mannered mulatto, who was called, by his master,

“the watchman.” His duties, however, as they were described to me,

were those of a steward, or intendant. He carried, by a strap at his

waist, a very large number of keys, and had charge of all the stores of

provisions, tools, and materials of the plantations, as well as of all

their produce, before it was shipped to market. He weighed and measured

out all the rations of the slaves and the cattle; superintended the

mechanics, and made and repaired, as was necessary, all the machinery,

including the steam-engine.

In all these departments, his authority was superior to that of the

overseer. The overseer received his private allowance of family

provisions from him, as did also the head-servant at the mansion, who

was his brother. His responsibility was much greater than that of the

overseer; and Mr. X. said he would trust him with much more than he

would any overseer he had ever known.

Anxious to learn how this trustworthiness and intelligence, so unusual

in a slave, had been developed or ascertained, I inquired of his

history, which was briefly as follows.

Being the son of a favourite house-servant, he had been, as a child,

associated with the white family, and received by chance something of

the early education of the white children. When old enough, he had been

employed, for some years, as a waiter; but, at his own request, was

eventually allowed to learn the blacksmith’s trade, in the plantation

shop. Showing ingenuity and talent, he was afterwards employed to

make and repair the plantation cotton-gins. Finally, his owner took

him to a steam-engine builder, and paid $500 to have him instructed

as a machinist. After he had become a skilful workman, he obtained

employment as an engineer; and for some years continued in this

occupation, and was allowed to spend his wages for himself. Finding,

however, that he was acquiring dissipated habits, and wasting his

earnings, Mr. X. eventually brought him, much against his inclinations,

back to the plantations. Being allowed peculiar privileges, and given

duties wholly flattering to his self-respect, he soon became contented;

and, of course, was able to be extremely valuable to his owner.

I have seen another slave-engineer. The gentleman who employed him

told me that he was a man of talent, and of great worth of character.

He had desired to make him free, but his owner, who was a member of

the Board of Brokers, and of Dr. ——’s Church, in New York, believed

that Providence designed the negro race for slavery, and refused to

sell him for that purpose. He thought it better that he (his owner)

should continue to receive two hundred dollars a year for his services,

while he continued able to work, because then, as he said, he should

feel responsible that he did not starve, or come upon the public for a

support, in his old age. The man himself, having light and agreeable

duties, well provided for, furnished with plenty of spending money by

his employer, patronized and flattered by the white people, honoured

and looked up to by those of his own colour, was rather indifferent in

the matter; or even, perhaps, preferred to remain a slave, to being

transported for life to Africa.

The watchman was a fine-looking fellow: as we were returning from

church, on Sunday, he had passed us, well dressed and well mounted, and

as he raised his hat, to salute us, there was nothing in his manner or

appearance, except his colour, to distinguish him from a gentleman of

good breeding and fortune.

When we were leaving the house, to go to church, on Sunday, after all

the white family had entered their carriages, or mounted their horses,

the head house-servant also mounted a horse—as he did so, slipping a

coin into the hands of the boy who had been holding him. Afterwards,

we passed a family of negroes, in a light waggon, the oldest among

them driving the horse. On my inquiring if the slaves were allowed to

take horses to drive to church, I was informed that in each of these

three cases, the horses belonged to the negroes who were driving or

riding them. The old man was infirm, and Mr. X. had given him a horse,

to enable him to move about. He was probably employed to look after

the cattle at pasture, or at something in which it was necessary, for

his usefulness, that he should have a horse: I say this, because I

afterwards found, in similar cases on other plantations, that it was

so. But the watchman and the house servant had bought their horses with

money. The watchman was believed to own three horses; and, to account

for his wealth, Mr. X.’s son told me that his father considered him a

very valuable servant, and frequently encouraged his good behaviour

with handsome gratuities. He receives, probably, considerably higher

wages, in fact (in the form of presents), than the white overseer. He

knew his father gave him two hundred dollars at once, a short time ago.

The watchman has a private house, and, no doubt, lives in considerable

luxury.

Will it be said, “therefore, Slavery is neither necessarily degrading

nor inhumane?” On the other hand, so far as it is not, there is no

apology for it. It is possible, though not probable, that this fine

fellow, if he had been born a free man, would be no better employed

than he is here; but, in that case, where is the advantage? Certainly

not in the economy of the arrangement. And if he were self-dependent,

if, especially, he had to provide for the present and future of those

he loved, and was able to do so, would he not necessarily live a

happier, stronger, better, and more respectable man?

After passing through tool-rooms, corn-rooms, mule-stables,

store-rooms, and a large garden, in which vegetables to be distributed

among the negroes, as well as for the family, are grown, we walked to

the rice-land. It is divided by embankments into fields of about twenty

acres each, but varying somewhat in size, according to the course of

the river. The arrangements are such that each field may be flooded

independently of the rest, and they are subdivided by open ditches into

rectangular plats of a quarter acre each. We first proceeded to where

twenty or thirty women and girls were engaged in raking together, in

heaps and winrows, the stubble and rubbish left on the field after

the last crop, and burning it. The main object of this operation is

to kill all the seeds of weeds, or of rice, on the ground. Ordinarily

it is done by tasks—a certain number of the small divisions of the

field being given to each hand to burn in a day; but owing to a more

than usual amount of rain having fallen lately, and some other causes,

making the work harder in some places than others, the women were now

working by the day, under the direction of a “driver,” a negro man, who

walked about among them, taking care that they left nothing unburned.

Mr. X. inspected the ground they had gone over, to see whether the

driver had done his duty. It had been sufficiently well burned, but not

more than a quarter as much ground had been gone over, he said, as was

usually burned in task-work,—and he thought they had been very lazy,

and reprimanded them. The driver made some little apology, but the

women offered no reply, keeping steadily and, it seemed, sullenly, on

at their work.

In the next field, twenty men, or boys, for none of them looked as if

they were full-grown, were ploughing, each with a single mule, and

a light, New-York-made plough. The soil was friable, the ploughing

easy, and the mules proceeded at a smart pace; the furrows were

straight, regular, and well turned. Their task was nominally an acre

and a quarter a day; somewhat less actually, as the measure includes

the space occupied by the ditches, which are two to three feet wide,

running around each quarter of an acre. The ploughing gang was

superintended by a driver, who was provided with a watch; and while

we were looking at them he called out that it was twelve o’clock. The

mules were immediately taken from the ploughs, and the plough-boys

mounting them, leapt the ditches, and cantered off to the stables,

to feed them. One or two were ordered to take their ploughs to the

blacksmith, for repairs.

The ploughmen got their dinner at this time: those not using horses

do not usually dine till they have finished their tasks; but this, I

believe, is optional with them. They commence work, I was told, at

sunrise, and at about eight o’clock have breakfast brought to them

in the field, each hand having left a bucket with the cook for that

purpose. All who are working in connection, leave their work together,

and gather about a fire, where they generally spend about half an hour.

The provisions furnished, consist mainly of meal, rice, and vegetables,

with salt and molasses, and occasionally bacon, fish, and coffee. The

allowance is a peck of meal, or an equivalent quantity of rice per

week, to each working hand, old or young, besides small stores. Mr. X.

says that he has lately given a less amount of meat than is now usual

on plantations, having observed that the general health of the negroes

is not as good as formerly, when no meat at all was customarily given

them. (The general impression among planters is, that the negroes work

much better for being supplied with three or four pounds of bacon a

week.)

Leaving the rice-land, we went next to some of the upland fields,

where we found several other gangs of negroes at work; one entirely

of men engaged in ditching; another of women, and another of boys and

girls, “listing” an old corn-field with hoes. All of them were working

by tasks, and were overlooked by negro drivers. They all laboured

with greater rapidity and cheerfulness than any slaves I have before

seen; and the women struck their hoes as if they were strong, and well

able to engage in muscular labour. The expression of then faces was

generally repulsive, and their _ensemble_ anything but agreeable. The

dress of most was uncouth and cumbrous, dirty and ragged; reefed up, as

I have once before described, at the hips, so as to show their heavy

legs, wrapped round with a piece of old blanket, in lieu of leggings

or stockings. Most of them worked with bare arms, but wore strong

shoes on their feet, and handkerchiefs on their heads; some of them

were smoking, and each gang had a fire burning on the ground, near

where they were at work, by which to light their pipes and warm their

breakfast. Mr. X. said this was always their custom, even in summer.

To each gang a boy or girl was also attached, whose business it was

to bring water for them to drink, and to go for anything required by

the driver. The drivers would frequently call back a hand to go over

again some piece of his or her task that had not been worked to his

satisfaction, and were constantly calling to one or another, with

a harsh and peremptory voice, to strike harder, or hoe deeper, and

otherwise taking care that the work was well done. Mr. X. asked if

Little Sam (“Tom’s Sue’s Sam”) worked yet with the “three-quarter”

hands, and learning that he did, ordered him to be put with the full

hands, observing that though rather short, he was strong and stout,

and, being twenty years old, well able to do a man’s work.

The field-hands are all divided into four classes, according to their

physical capacities. The children beginning as “quarter hands,”

advancing to “half-hands,” and then to “three-quarter hands;” and,

finally, when mature, and able-bodied, healthy, and strong, to “full

hands.” As they decline in strength, from age, sickness, or other

cause, they retrograde in the scale, and proportionately less labour

is required of them. Many, of naturally weak frame, never are put

among the full hands. Finally, the aged are left out at the annual

classification, and no more regular field-work is required of them,

although they are generally provided with some light, sedentary

occupation. I saw one old woman picking “tailings” of rice out of a

heap of chaff, an occupation at which she was probably not earning her

salt. Mr. X. told me she was a native African, having been brought

when a girl from the Guinea coast. She spoke almost unintelligibly;

but after some other conversation, in which I had not been able to

understand a word she said, he jokingly proposed to send her back to

Africa. She expressed her preference to remain where she was, very

emphatically. “Why?” She did not answer readily, but being pressed,

threw up her palsied hands, and said furiously, “I lubs ’ou, mas’r, oh,

I lubs ’ou. I don’t want go ’way from ’ou.”

The field-hands are nearly always worked in gangs, the strength

of a gang varying according to the work that engages it; usually it

numbers twenty or more, and is directed by a driver. As on most large

plantations, whether of rice or cotton, in Eastern Georgia and South

Carolina, nearly all ordinary and regular work is performed _by tasks_:

that is to say, each hand has his labour for the day marked out before

him, and can take his own time to do it in. For instance, in making

drains in light, clean meadow land, each man or woman of the full hands

is required to dig one thousand cubic feet; in swamp-land that is being

prepared for rice culture, where there are not many stumps, the task

for a ditcher is five hundred feet: while in a very strong cypress

swamp, only two hundred feet is required; in hoeing rice, a certain

number of rows, equal to one-half or two-thirds of an acre, according

to the condition of the land; in sowing rice (strewing in drills),

two acres; in reaping rice (if it stands well), three-quarters of an

acre; or, sometimes a gang will be required to reap, tie in sheaves,

and carry to the stack-yard the produce of a certain area, commonly

equal to one fourth the number of acres that there are hands working

together. Hoeing cotton, corn, or potatoes; one half to one acre.

Threshing; five to six hundred sheaves. In ploughing rice-land (light,

clean, mellow soil) with a yoke of oxen, one acre a day, including the

ground lost in and near the drains—the oxen being changed at noon. A

cooper, also, for instance, is required to make barrels at the rate of

eighteen a week. Drawing staves, 500 a day. Hoop poles, 120. Squaring

timber, 100 ft. Laying worm-fence, 50 panels per hand. Post and rail

do., posts set 2½ to 3 ft. deep, 9 ft. apart, nine or ten panels per

hand. In getting fuel from the woods, (pine, to be cut and split,) one

cord is the task for a day. In “mauling rails,” the taskman selecting

the trees (pine) that he judges will split easiest, one hundred a day,

ends not sharpened.

These are the tasks for first-class able-bodied men; they are lessened

by one quarter for three quarter hands, and proportionately for the

lighter classes. In allotting the tasks, the drivers are expected to

put the weaker hands where (if there is any choice in the appearance of

the ground, as where certain rows in hoeing corn would be less weedy

than others,) they will be favoured.

These tasks certainly would not be considered excessively hard, by a

Northern labourer; and, in point of fact, the more industrious and

active hands finish them often by two o’clock. I saw one or two leaving

the field soon after one o’clock, several about two; and between three

and four, I met a dozen women and several men coming home to their

cabins, having finished their day’s work.

Under this “Organization of Labour,” most of the slaves work rapidly

and well. In nearly all ordinary work, custom has settled the extent

of the task, and it is difficult to increase it. The driver who marks

it out, has to remain on the ground until it is finished, and has no

interest in over-measuring it; and if it should be systematically

increased very much, there is danger of a general stampede to the

“swamp”—a danger the slave can always hold before his master’s

cupidity. In fact, it is looked upon _in this region_ as a proscriptive

right of the negroes to have this incitement to diligence offered them;

and the man who denied it, or who attempted to lessen it, would, it is

said, suffer in his reputation, as well as experience much annoyance

from the obstinate “rascality” of his negroes. Notwithstanding this,

I have heard a man assert, boastingly, that he made his negroes

habitually perform double the customary tasks. Thus we get a glimpse

again of the black side. If he is allowed the power to do this, what

may not a man do?

It is the driver’s duty to make the tasked hands do their work well.

If, in their haste to finish it, they neglect to do it properly, he

“sets them back,” so that carelessness will hinder more than it will

hasten the completion of their tasks.

In the selection of drivers, regard seems to be had to size and

strength—at least, nearly all the drivers I have seen are tall and

strong men—but a great deal of judgment, requiring greater capacity of

mind than the ordinary slave is often supposed to be possessed of, is

certainly needed in them. A good driver is very valuable and usually

holds office for life. His authority is not limited to the direction

of labour in the field, but extends to the general deportment of the

negroes. He is made to do the duties of policeman, and even of police

magistrate. It is his duty, for instance, on Mr. X.’s estate, to

keep order in the settlement; and, if two persons, men or women, are

fighting, it is his duty to immediately separate them, and then to

“whip them both.”

Before any field of work is entered upon by a gang, the driver who

is to superintend them has to measure and stake off the tasks. To

do this at all accurately, in irregular-shaped fields, must require

considerable powers of calculation. A driver, with a boy to set the

stakes, I was told, would accurately lay out forty acres a day, in

half-acre tasks. The only instrument used is a five-foot measuring rod.

When the gang comes to the field, he points out to each person his or

her duty for the day, and then walks about among them, looking out that

each proceeds properly. If, after a hard day’s labour, he sees that the

gang has been overtasked, owing to a miscalculation of the difficulty

of the work, he may excuse the completion of the tasks; but he is not

allowed to extend them. In the case of uncompleted tasks, the body of

the gang begin new tasks the next day, and only a sufficient number are

detailed from it to complete, during the day, the unfinished tasks of

the day before. The relation of the driver to the working hands seems

to be similar to that of the boatswain to the seamen in the navy, or of

the sergeant to the privates in the army.

Having generally had long experience on the plantation, the advice of

the drivers is commonly taken in nearly all the administration, and

frequently they are, _de facto_, the managers. Orders on important

points of the plantation economy, I have heard given by the proprietor

directly to them, without the overseer’s being consulted or informed

of them; and it is often left with them to decide when and how long to

flow the rice-grounds—the proprietor and overseer deferring to their

more experienced judgment. Where the drivers are discreet, experienced,

and trusty, the overseer is frequently employed merely as a matter of

form, to comply with the laws requiring the superintendence or presence

of a white man among every body of slaves; and his duty is rather to

inspect and report than to govern. Mr. X. considers his overseer an

uncommonly efficient and faithful one, but he would not employ him,

even during the summer, when he is absent for several months, if the

law did not require it. He has sometimes left his plantation in care

of one of the drivers for a considerable length of time, after having

discharged an overseer; and he thinks it has then been quite as well

conducted as ever. His overseer consults the drivers on all important

points, and is governed by their advice.

Mr. X. said, that though overseers sometimes punished the negroes

severely, and otherwise ill-treated them, it is their more common

fault to indulge them foolishly in their disposition to idleness, or

in other ways to curry favour with them, so they may not inform the

proprietor of their own misconduct or neglect. He has his overseer

bound to certain rules, by written contract; and it is stipulated that

he can discharge him at any moment, without remuneration for his loss

of time and inconvenience, if he should at any time be dissatisfied

with him. One of the rules is, that he shall never punish a negro with

his own hands, and that corporeal punishment, when necessary, shall be

inflicted by the drivers. The advantage of this is, that it secures

time for deliberation, and prevents punishment being made in sudden

passion. His drivers are not allowed to carry their whips with them

in the field; so that if the overseer wishes a hand punished, it is

necessary to call a driver; and the driver has then to go to his cabin,

which is, perhaps, a mile or two distant, to get his whip, before it

can be applied.

I asked how often the necessity of punishment occurred?

“Sometimes, perhaps, not once for two or three weeks; then it will seem

as if the devil had got into them all, and there is a good deal of it.”

As the negroes finish the labour required of them by Mr. X., at three

or four o’clock in the afternoon, they can employ the remainder of the

day in labouring for themselves, if they choose. Each family has a

half-acre of land allotted to it, for a garden; besides which, there is

a large vegetable garden, cultivated by a gardener for the plantation,

from which they are supplied, to a greater or less extent. They are at

liberty to sell whatever they choose from the products of their own

garden, and to make what they can by keeping swine and fowls. Mr. X.’s

family have no other supply of poultry and eggs than what is obtained

by purchase from his own negroes; they frequently, also, purchase game

from them. The only restriction upon their traffic is a “liquor law.”

They are not allowed to buy or sell ardent spirits. This prohibition,

like liquor laws elsewhere, unfortunately, cannot be enforced; and,

of late years, grog shops, at which stolen goods are bought from the

slaves, and poisonous liquors—chiefly the worst whisky, much watered

and made stupefying by an infusion of tobacco—are clandestinely sold to

them, have become an established evil, and the planters find themselves

almost powerless to cope with it. They have, here, lately organized

an association for this purpose, and have brought several offenders

to trial; but, as it is a penitentiary offence, the culprit spares no

pains or expense to avoid conviction—and it is almost impossible, in

a community of which so large a proportion is poor and degraded, to

have a jury sufficiently honest and intelligent to permit the law to be

executed.

A remarkable illustration of this evil has lately occurred. A planter,

discovering that a considerable quantity of cotton had been stolen

from him, informed the patrol of the neighbouring planters of it. A

stratagem was made use of, to detect the thief, and, what was of much

more importance—there being no question but that this was a slave—to

discover for whom the thief worked. A lot of cotton was prepared, by

mixing hair with it, and put in a tempting place. A negro was seen

to take it, and was followed by scouts to a grog-shop, several miles

distant, where he sold it—its real value being nearly ten dollars—for

ten cents, taking his pay in liquor. The man was arrested, and, the

theft being made to appear, by the hair, before a justice, obtained

bail in $2,000, to answer at the higher court. Some of the best legal

counsel of the State has been engaged, to obtain, if possible, his

conviction.

This difficulty in the management of slaves is a great and very

rapidly increasing one. Everywhere that I have been, I have found the

planters provoked and angry about it. A swarm of Jews, within the last

ten years, has settled in nearly every Southern town, many of them men

of no character, opening cheap clothing and trinket shops; ruining,

or driving out of business, many of the old retailers, and engaging

in an unlawful trade with the simple negroes, which is found very

profitable.[30]

The law which prevents the reception of the evidence of a negro in

courts, here strikes back, with a most annoying force, upon the

dominant power itself. In the mischief thus arising, we see a striking

illustration of the danger which stands before the South, whenever its

prosperity shall invite extensive immigration, and lead what would

otherwise be a healthy competition to flow through its channels of

industry.

This injury to slave property, from grog-shops, furnishes the grand

argument for the Maine Law at the South.[31]

Mr. X. remarks that his arrangements allow his servants no excuse

for dealing with these fellows. He has a rule to purchase everything

they desire to sell, and to give them a high price for it himself.

Eggs constitute a circulating medium on the plantation. Their par

value is considered to be twelve for a dime, at which they may always

be exchanged for cash, or left on deposit, without interest, at his

kitchen.

Whatever he takes of them that he cannot use in his own family, or

has not occasion to give to others of his servants, is sent to town

to be resold. The negroes do not commonly take money for the articles

he has of them, but the value of them is put to their credit, and a

regular account kept with them. He has a store, usually well supplied

with articles that they most want, which are purchased in large

quantities, and sold to them at wholesale prices; thus giving them a

great advantage in dealing with him rather than with the grog-shops.

His slaves are sometimes his creditors to large amounts; at the present

time he says he owes them about five hundred dollars. A woman has

charge of the store, and when there is anything called for that she

cannot supply, it is usually ordered, by the next conveyance, of his

factors in town.

The ascertained practicability of thus dealing with slaves, together

with the obvious advantages of the method of working them by tasks,

which I have described, seem to me to indicate that it is not so

impracticable as is generally supposed, if only it was desired by those

having the power, to rapidly extinguish Slavery, and while doing so,

to educate the negro for taking care of himself, in freedom. Let, for

instance, any slave be provided with all things he will demand, as

far as practicable, and charge him for them at certain prices—honest,

market prices for his necessities, higher prices for harmless luxuries,

and excessive, but not absolutely prohibitory, prices for everything

likely to do him harm. Credit him, at a fixed price, for every day’s

work he does, and for all above a certain easily accomplished task

in a day, at an increased price, so that his reward will be in an

increasing ratio to his perseverance. Let the prices of provisions be

so proportioned to the price of task-work, that it will be about as

easy as it is now for him to obtain a bare subsistence. When he has

no food and shelter due to him, let him be confined in solitude, or

otherwise punished, until he asks for opportunity to earn exemption

from punishment by labour.

When he desires to marry, and can persuade any woman to marry him,

let the two be dealt with as in partnership. Thus, a young man or

young woman will be attractive somewhat in proportion to his or her

reputation for industry and providence. Thus industry and providence

will become fashionable. Oblige them to purchase food for their

children, and let them have the benefit of their children’s labour,

and they will be careful to teach their children to avoid waste, and

to honour labour. Let those who have not gained credit while hale and

young, sufficient to support themselves in comfort when prevented by

age or infirmity from further labour, be supported by a tax upon all

the negroes of the plantation, or of a community. Improvidence, and

pretence of inability to labour, will then be disgraceful.

When any man has a balance to his credit equal to his value as a slave,

let that constitute him a free man. It will be optional with him and

his employer whether he shall continue longer in the relation of

servant. If desirable for both that he should, it is probable that he

will; for unless he is honest, prudent, industrious, and discreet, he

will not have acquired the means of purchasing his freedom.

If he is so, he will remain where he is, unless he is more wanted

elsewhere; a fact that will be established by his being called away by

higher wages, or the prospect of greater ease and comfort elsewhere.

If he is so drawn off, it is better for all parties concerned that

he should go. Better for his old master; for he would not refuse him

sufficient wages to induce him to stay, unless he could get the work he

wanted him to do done cheaper than he would justly do it. Poor wages

would certainly, in the long run, buy but poor work; fair wages, fair

work.

Of course there will be exceptional cases, but they will always operate

as cautions for the future, not only to the parties suffering, but to

all who observe them. And be sure they will not be suffered, among

ignorant people, to be lost. This is the beneficent function of gossip,

with which wise and broad-working minds have nothing to do, such not

being benefitted by the iteration of the lessons of life.

Married persons, of course, can only become free together. In the

appraisement of their value, let that of their young children be

included, so that they cannot be parted from them; but with regard to

children old enough to earn something more than their living, let it be

optional what they do for them.

Such a system would simply combine the commendable elements of the

emancipation law of Cuba,[32] and those of the reformatory punishment

system, now in successful operation in some of the British penal

colonies, with a few practical modifications. Further modifications

would, doubtless, be needed, which any man who has had much practical

experience in dealing with slaves might readily suggest. Much might

be learned from the experience of the system pursued in the penal

colonies, some account of which may be seen in the report of the

Prisoners’ Aid Society of New York, for 1854, or in a previous little

work of my own. I have here only desired to suggest, apropos to my

friend’s experience, the practicability of providing the negroes an

education in essential social morality, while they are drawing towards

personal freedom; a desideratum with those who do not consider Slavery

a purely and eternally desirable thing for both slave and slave-master,

which the present system is calculated, as far as possible, in every

direction to oppose.

Education in theology and letters could be easily combined with such

a plan as I have hinted at; or, if a State should wish to encourage

the improvement of its negro constituent—as, in the progress of

enlightenment and Christianity, may be hoped to eventually occur—a

simple provision of the law, making a certain standard of proficiency

the condition of political freedom, would probably create a natural

demand for education, which commerce, under its inexorable higher-laws,

would be obliged to satisfy.

I do not think, after all I have heard to favour it, that there is any

good reason to consider the negro, naturally and essentially, the moral

inferior of the white; or, that if he is so, it is in those elements of

character which should for ever prevent us from trusting him with equal

social munities with ourselves.

So far as I have observed, slaves show themselves worthy of trust most,

where their masters are most considerate and liberal towards them. Far

more so, for instance, on the small farms of North Carolina than on

the plantations of Virginia and South Carolina. Mr. X.’s slaves are

permitted to purchase fire-arms and ammunition, and to keep them in

their cabins; and his wife and daughters reside with him, among them,

the doors of the house never locked, or windows closed, perfectly

defenceless, and miles distant from any other white family.

Another evidence that negroes, even in slavery, when trusted, may

prove wonderfully reliable, I will subjoin, in a letter written by Mr.

Alexander Smets, of Savannah, to a friend in New York, in 1853. It is

hardly necessary to say, that the “servants” spoken of were negroes,

and the “suspicious characters,” providentially removed, were whites.

The letter was not written for publication:—

“The epidemic which spread destruction and desolation through our

city, and many other places in most of the Southern States, was,

with the exception of that of 1820, the most deadly that was ever

known here. Its appearance being sudden, the inhabitants were

seized with a panic, which caused an immediate _sauve qui peut_

seldom witnessed before. I left, or rather fled, for the sake of

my daughters, to Sparta, Hancock county. They were dreadfully

frightened.

“Of a population of fifteen thousand, six thousand, who could

not get away, remained, nearly all of whom were more or less

seized with the prevailing disease. The negroes, with very few

exceptions, escaped.

“Amidst the desolation and gloom pervading the deserted streets,

there was a feature that showed our slaves in a favourable light.

There were entire blocks of houses, which were either entirely

deserted—the owners in many instances having, in their flight,

forgotten to lock them up—or left in charge of the servants. A

finer opportunity for plunder could not be desired by thieves;

and yet the city was remarkable, during the time, for order and

quietness. There were scarcely any robberies committed, and as

regards fires, so common in the winter, none! Every householder,

whose premises had escaped the fury of the late terrific storm,

found them in the same condition he had left them. Had not the

yellow fever scared away or killed those suspicious characters,

whose existence is a problem, and who prowl about every city, I

fear that our city might have been laid waste. Of the whole board

of directors of five banks, three or four remained, and these at

one time were sick. Several of the clerks were left, each in the

possession of a single one. For several weeks it was difficult

to get anything to eat; the bakers were either sick or dead. The

markets closed, no countryman dared venture himself into the

city with the usual supplies for the table, and the packets had

discontinued their trips. I shall stop, otherwise I could fill a

volume with the occurrences and incidents of the dismal period of

the epidemic.”

On most of the large rice plantations which I have seen in this

vicinity, there is a small chapel, which the negroes call their

prayer-house. The owner of one of these told me that, having furnished

the prayer-house with seats having a back-rail, his negroes petitioned

him to remove it, because it did not leave them _room enough to pray_.

It was explained to me that it is their custom, in social worship, to

work themselves up to a great pitch of excitement, in which they yell

and cry aloud, and finally, shriek and leap up, clapping their hands

and dancing, as it is done at heathen festivals. The back-rail they

found to seriously impede this exercise.

Mr. X. told me that he had endeavoured, with but little success, to

prevent this shouting and jumping of the negroes at their meetings on

his plantation, from a conviction that there was not the slightest

element of religious sentiment in it. He considered it to be engaged in

more as an exciting amusement than from any really religious impulse.

In the town churches, except, perhaps, those managed and conducted

almost exclusively by negroes, the slaves are said to commonly engage

in religious exercises in a sober and decorous manner; yet, a member of

a Presbyterian church in a Southern city told me, that he had seen the

negroes in his own house of worship, during “a season of revival,” leap

from their seats, throw then arms wildly in the air, shout vehemently

and unintelligibly, cry, groan, rend their clothes, and fall into

cataleptic trances.

On almost every large plantation, and in every neighbourhood of small

ones, there is one man who has come to be considered the head or

pastor of the local church. The office among the negroes, as among all

other people, confers a certain importance and power. A part of the

reverence attaching to the duties is given to the person; vanity and

self-confidence are cultivated, and a higher ambition aroused than can

usually enter the mind of a slave. The self-respect of the preacher

is also often increased by the consideration in which he is held by

his master, as well as by his fellows; thus, the preachers generally

have an air of superiority to other negroes; they acquire a remarkable

memory of words, phrases, and forms; a curious sort of poetic talent is

developed, and a habit is obtained of rhapsodizing and exciting furious

emotions, to a great degree spurious and temporary, in themselves and

others, through the imagination. I was introduced, the other day, to

a preacher, who was represented to be quite distinguished among them.

I took his hand, respectfully, and said I was happy to meet him.

He seemed to take this for a joke, and laughed heartily. He was a

“driver,” and my friend said—

“He drives the negroes at the cotton all the week, and Sundays he

drives them at the Gospel—don’t you, Ned?”

He commenced to reply in some scriptural phrase, soberly; but before

he could say three words, began to laugh again, and reeled off like a

drunken man—entirely overcome with merriment. He recovered himself in a

moment, and returned to us.

“They say he preaches very powerfully, too.”

“Yes, massa! ’kordin’ to der grace—_yah! yah!_”

And he staggered off again, with the peculiar hearty negro guffaw.

My friend’s tone was, I suppose, slightly humorous, but I was grave,

and really meant to treat him respectfully, wishing to draw him into

conversation; but he had got the impression that it was intended to

make fun of him, and generously assuming a merry humour, I found it

impossible to get a serious reply.

A majority of the public houses of worship at the South are small,

rude structures of logs, or rough boards, built by the united labour

or contributions of the people of a large neighbourhood or district of

country, and are used as places of assembly for all public purposes.

Few of them have any regular clergymen, but preachers of different

denominations go from one to another, sometimes in a defined rotation,

or “circuit,” so that they may be expected at each of their stations

at regular intervals. A late report of the Southern Aid Society states

that hardly one-fifth of the preachers are regularly educated for their

business, and that “you would starve a host of them if you debarred

them from seeking additional support for their families by worldly

occupation.” In one presbytery of the Presbyterian Church, which is,

perhaps, the richest, and includes the most educated body of people of

all the Southern Churches, there are twenty-one ministers whose wages

are not over two hundred and fifty dollars each. The proportion of

ministers, of all sorts, to people, is estimated at one to thirteen

hundred. (In the Free States it is estimated at one to nine hundred.)

The report of this Society also states, that “within the limits of the

United States religious destitution lies comparatively at the South

and South-west; and that from the first settlement of the country

the North has preserved a decided religious superiority over the

South, especially in three important particulars: in ample supply

of Christian institutions; extensive supply of Christian truth; and

thorough Christian regimen, both in the Church and in the community.”

It is added that, “while the South-western States have always needed

a stronger arm of the Christian ministry to raise them up toward a

Christian equality with their Northern brethren, their supply in this

respect has always been decidedly inferior.” The reason of this is the

same with that which explains the general ignorance of the people of

the South: The effect of Slavery in preventing social association of

the whites, and in encouraging vagabond and improvident habits of life

among the poor.

The two largest denominations of Christians at the South are the

Methodists and Baptists—the last having a numerical superiority.

There are some subdivisions of each, and of the Baptists especially,

the nature of which I do not understand. Two grand divisions of the

Baptists are known as the Hard Shells and the Soft Shells. There is an

intense rivalry and jealousy among these various sects and sub-sects,

and the controversy between them is carried on with a bitterness and

persistence exceeding anything which I have known at the North, and in

a manner which curiously indicates how the terms Christianity, piety,

etc., are misapplied to partisanship and conditions of the imagination.

A general want of essential reverence of character seems to be

evidenced in the frequent familiar and public use of expressions

of rare reverence, and in high-coloured descriptions of personal

feelings and sentiments, which, if actual, can only be among a man’s

dearest, most interior and secret, stillest, and most uncommunicable

experiences. Men talk in public places, in the churches, and in

bar-rooms, in the stage-coach, and at the fireside, of their personal

communions with the Deity, and of the mutations of their harmony

with His Spirit, just as they do about their family and business

matters. The familiar use of Scripture expressions by the negroes, I

have already indicated. This is not confined to them. A dram-seller

advertises thus:—

“‘FAITH WITHOUT WORKS IS DEAD.’

IN order to engage in a more ‘honorable’ business, I offer for

sale, cheap for cash, my stock of

LIQUORS, BAR-FIXTURES, BILLIARD TABLE, &c., &c.

If not sold privately, by the 20th day of May, I will sell the

same at public auction. ‘Shew me thy faith without thy works, and

I will shew thee my faith by my works.’

E. KEYSER.”

At a Sunday dinner-table, at a village inn in Virginia, two or three

men had taken seats with me, who had, as they said, “been to the

preachin’.” A child had been baptized, and the discourse had been a

defence of infant baptism.

“I’m damned,” said one, “ef he teched on the primary significance of

baptism, at all—buryin’ with Jesus.”

“They wus the weakest arguments for sprinklin’ that ever I heerd,” said

another—a hot, red-faced, corpulent man—“and his sermon was two hours

long, for when he stopped I looked at my watch. I thought it should be

a lesson to me, for I couldn’t help going to sleep. Says I to Uncle

John, says I—he sot next to me, and I whispered to him—says I, ‘When

he gits to Bunker Hill, you wake me up,’ for I see he was bound to go

clean back to the beginnin’ of things.”

“Uncle John is an Episcopalian, aint he?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there aint no religion in that, no how.”

“No, there aint.”

“Well now, you wouldn’t think it, but I’ve studied into religion a heap

in my life.”

“Don’t seem to have done you much good.”

“No it aint, not yet, but I’ve studied into it, and I know what it is.”

“There aint but one way, Benny.”

“I know it.”

“Repent of your sins, and believe in Christ, and be immersed—that’s

all.”

“I know it.”

“Well, I hope the Lord’ll bring you to it, ’fore you die.”

“Reckon he will—hope so, sure.”

“You wouldn’t hardly think that fat man was a preacher himself, would

you?” said the landlady to me, after they left.

“Certainly not.”

“He is, though, but I don’t think much of that sort;” and the landlady

immediately began to describe to me the religious history of the

neighbourhood. It was some different here, she said she reckoned,

in reply to a remark of mine, from what it was at the North. Most

respectable people became pious here before they got to be very old,

especially ladies. Young ladies were always gay and went to balls till

they were near twenty years old, but from eighteen to twenty-five they

generally got religion, and then they stopped right short, and never

danced or carried on any after that. Sometimes it wasn’t till after

they were married, but there weren’t many ladies who had children that

warn’t pious. She herself was an exception, for she had three children

and had not got religion yet; sometimes she was frightened to think

how old she was—her children growing up about her; but she did so like

dancing—she hoped her turn would come—she knew it would—she had a pious

and praying mother, and she reckoned her prayers must be heard, and so

on.

The religious service which I am about to describe, was held in a less

than usually rude meeting-house, the boards by which it was enclosed

being planed, the windows glazed, and the seats for the white people

provided with backs. It stood in a small clearing of the woods, and

there was no habitation within two miles of it. When I reached it with

my friends, the services had already commenced. Fastened to trees, in

a circle about the house, there were many saddled horses and mules,

and a few attached to carts or waggons. There were two smouldering

camp-fires, around which sat circles of negroes and white boys,

roasting potatoes in the ashes.

In the house were some fifty white people, generally dressed in

homespun, and of the class called “crackers,” though I was told that

some of them owned a good many negroes, and were by no means so poor

as their appearance indicated. About one-third of the house, at the

end opposite the desk, was covered by a gallery or cock-loft, under

and in which, distinctly separated from the whites, was a dense body

of negroes; the men on one side, the women on another. The whites were

seated promiscuously in the body of the house. The negroes present

outnumbered the whites, but the exercises at this time seemed to have

no reference to them; there were many more waiting about the doors

outside, and they were expecting to enjoy a meeting to themselves,

after the whites had left the house. They were generally neatly

dressed, more so than the majority of the whites present, but in a

distinctly plantation or slave style. A few of them wore somewhat

expensive articles, evidently of their own selection and purchase; but

I observed, with some surprise, that not one of the women had a bonnet

upon her head, all wearing handkerchiefs, generally of gay patterns,

and becomingly arranged. I inquired if this was entirely a matter of

taste, and was told that it, no doubt, was generally so, though the

masters would not probably allow them to wear bonnets, if they should

be disposed to, and should purchase them themselves, as it would be

thought presuming. In the towns, the coloured women often, but not

generally, wear bonnets.

During all the exercises, people of both classes were frequently going

out and coming in; the women had brought their babies with them, and

these made much disturbance. A negro girl would sometimes come forward

to take a child out; perhaps the child would prefer not to be taken

out, and would make loud and angry objections; it would then be fed.

Several were allowed to crawl about the floor, carrying handfuls of

corn-bread and roasted potatoes about with them; one had a fancy to

enter the pulpit; which it succeeded in climbing into three times, and

was as often taken away, in spite of loud and tearful expostulations,

by its father. Dogs were not excluded; and outside, the doors and

windows all being open, there was much neighing and braying, unused as

were the mules and horses to see so many of their kind assembled.

The preliminary devotional exercises—a Scripture reading, singing, and

painfully irreverential and meaningless harangues nominally addressed

to the Deity, but really to the audience—being concluded, the sermon

was commenced by reading a text, with which, however, it had, so far as

I could discover, no further association. Without often being violent

in his manner, the speaker nearly all the time cried aloud at the

utmost stretch of his voice, as if calling to some one a long distance

off; as his discourse was extemporaneous, however, he sometimes

returned with curious effect to his natural conversational tone; and

as he was gifted with a strong imagination, and possessed of a good

deal of dramatic power, he kept the attention of the people very well.

There was no argument upon any point that the congregation were likely

to have much difference of opinion upon, nor any special connection

between one sentence and another; yet there was a constant, sly,

sectarian skirmishing, and a frequently recurring cannonade upon French

infidelity and socialism, and several crushing charges upon Fourier,

the Pope of Rome, Tom Paine, Voltaire, “Roosu,” and Joe Smith. The

audience were frequently reminded that the preacher did not want their

attention for any purpose of his own; but that he demanded a respectful

hearing as “the ambassador of Christ.” He had the habit of frequently

repeating a phrase, or of bringing forward the same idea in a slightly

different form, a great many times. The following passage, of which I

took notes, presents an example of this, followed by one of the best

instances of his dramatic talent that occurred. He was leaning far over

the desk, with his arm stretched forward, gesticulating violently,

yelling at the highest key, and catching breath with an effort:—

“A—ah! why don’t you come to Christ? ah! what’s the reason? ah! Is it

because he was of _lowly birth_? ah! Is that it? _Is it_ because he was

born in a manger? ah! Is it because he was of a humble origin? ah! Is

it because he was lowly born? a-ha! Is it because, ah!—is it because,

ah!—because he was called a Nazarene? Is it because he was born in a

stable?—or is it because—because he was of humble origin? Or is it—is

it because”——He drew back, and after a moment’s silence put his hand

to his chin, and began walking up and down the platform of the pulpit,

soliloquizing. “It can’t be—it can’t be—?” Then lifting his eyes and

gradually turning towards the audience, while he continued to speak in

a low, thoughtful tone: “Perhaps you don’t like the messenger—is that

the reason? I’m the ambassador of the great and glorious King; it’s

his invitation, ’taint mine. You musn’t mind me. I ain’t no account.

Suppose a ragged, insignificant little boy should come running in here

and tell you, ‘Mister, your house’s a-fire!’ would you mind the ragged,

insignificant little boy, and refuse to listen to him, because he

didn’t look respectable?”

At the end of the sermon he stepped down from the pulpit, and, crossing

the house towards the negroes, said, quietly, as he walked, “I take

great interest in the poor blacks; and this evening I am going to hold

a meeting specially for you.” With this he turned back, and without

re-entering the pulpit, but strolling up and down before it, read a

hymn, at the conclusion of which, he laid his book down, and speaking

for a moment with natural emphasis, said—

“I don’t want to create a tumultuous scene, now;—that isn’t my

intention. I don’t want to make an excitement,—that aint what I

want,—but I feel that there’s some here that I may never see again,

ah! and, as I may never have another opportunity, I feel it my duty

as an ambassador of Jesus Christ, ah! before I go——” By this time he

had returned to the high key and whining yell. Exactly what he felt

it his duty to do, I did not understand; but evidently to employ some

more powerful agency of awakening than arguments and appeals to the

understanding; and, before I could conjecture, in the least, of what

sort this was to be, while he was yet speaking calmly, deprecating

excitement, my attention was attracted to several men, who had

previously appeared sleepy and indifferent, but who now suddenly began

to sigh, raise their heads, and _shed tears_—some standing up, so that

they might be observed in doing this by the whole congregation—the

tears running down their noses without any interruption. The speaker,

presently, was crying aloud, with a mournful, distressed, beseeching

shriek, as if he were himself suffering torture: “Oh, any of you fond

parents, who know that any of your dear, sweet, little ones may be,

oh! at any moment snatched right away from your bosom, and cast into

hell fire, oh! there to suffer torment for ever and ever, and ever and

ever—Oh! come out here and help us pray for them! Oh, any of you wives

that has got an unconverted husband, that won’t go along with you to

eternal glory, but is set upon being separated from you, oh! and taking

up his bed in hell—Oh! I call upon you, if you love him, now to come

out here and jine us in praying for him. Oh, if there’s a husband here,

whose wife is still in the bond of iniquity,” etc., through a long

category.

It was immediately evident that a large part of the audience understood

his wish to be the reverse of what he had declared, and considered

themselves called upon to assist him; and it was astonishing to see

with what readiness the faces of those who, up to the moment he gave

the signal, had appeared drowsy and stupid, were made to express

distressing excitement, sighing, groaning, and weeping. Rising in their

seats, and walking up to the pulpit, they grasped each other’s hands

agonizingly, and remained, some kneeling, others standing, with their

faces towards the remainder of the assembly. There was great confusion

and tumult, and the poor children, evidently impressed by the terrified

tone of the howling preacher, with the expectation of some immediately

impending calamity, shrieked, and ran hither and thither, till negro

girls came forward, laughing at the imposition, and carried them out.

At length, when some twenty had gathered around the preacher, and it

became evident that no more could be drawn out, he stopped a moment for

breath, and then repeated a verse of a hymn, which being sung, he again

commenced to cry aloud, calling now upon all the unconverted, who were

_willing_ to be saved, to kneel. A few did so, and another verse was

sung, followed by another more fervent exhortation. So it went on; at

each verse his entreaties, warnings, and threats, and the responsive

groans, sobs, and ejaculations of his coterie grew louder and stronger.

Those who refused to kneel were addressed as standing on the brink of

the infernal pit, into which a diabolical divinity was momentarily on

the point of satisfying the necessities of his character by hurling

them off.

All this time about a dozen of the audience remained standing, many

were kneeling, and the larger part had taken their seats—all having

risen at the commencement of the singing. Those who continued standing

were mainly wild-looking young fellows, who glanced with smiles at one

another, as if they needed encouragement to brazen it out. A few young

women were evidently fearfully excited, and perceptibly trembled, but

for some reason dared not kneel, or compromise, by sitting. One of

these, a good-looking and gaily-dressed girl, stood near, and directly

before the preacher, her lips compressed, and her eyes fixed fiercely

and defiantly upon him. He for some time concentrated his force upon

her; but she was too strong for him, he could not bring her down. At

length, shaking his finger toward her, with a terrible expression, as

if he had the power, and did not lack the inclination, to damn her for

her resistance to his will, he said: “I tell you this is _the last

call_!” She bit her lips, and turned paler, but still stood erect, and

defiant of the immense magnetism concentrated upon her; and he gave it

up himself, quite exhausted with the effort.

The last verse of the hymn was sung. A comparatively quiet and sober

repetition of Scripture phrases, strung together heterogeneously and

without meaning, in the form of prayer, followed, a benediction was

pronounced, and in five minutes all the people were out of the door,

with no trace of the previous excitement left, but most of the men

talking eagerly of the price of cotton, and negroes, and other news.

The negroes kept their place during all of the tumult; there may have

been a sympathetic groan or exclamation uttered by one or two of them,

but generally they expressed only the interest of curiosity in the

proceedings, such as Europeans might at a performance of the dancing

dervishes, an Indian pow-wow, or an exhibition of “psychological” or

“spiritual” phenomena, making it very evident that the emotion of

the performers was optionally engaged in, as an appropriate part of

divine service. There was generally a self-satisfied smile upon their

faces; and I have no doubt they felt that they could do it with a good

deal more energy and abandon, if they were called upon. I did not

wish to detain my companion to witness how they succeeded, when their

turn came; and I can only judge from the fact, that those I saw the

next morning were so hoarse that they could scarcely speak, that the

religious exercises they most enjoy are rather hard upon the lungs,

whatever their effect may be upon the soul.