Book: Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. VI, June, 1862

V >> Various >> Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. VI, June, 1862




At fourteen, Hiram was to become 'pious.' So Mrs. Meeker fervently
hoped, and to this end her prayers were specially directed. Her son once
secure and safe within the pale of the church, she could be free to
prosecute for him her earthly plans, which could not be sanctioned or
blessed of Heaven, so long as he was still in the gall of sin and bonds
of iniquity. So she labored to explain to him how impossible it was for
an unconverted person to think an acceptable thought or do a single
acceptable act in the sight of God. All his labor was sin, while he was
in a state of sin, whether it was at the plow, or in the shop, or store,
or office, or counting-room. She warned him of the wrath to come, and
she explained to him with minute vividness the everlasting despair and
tortures of the damned. Hiram was a good deal affected. He began to feel
that his position personally was perilous. He wanted to get out of it,
especially as his mother assured him if he should be taken away--and he
was liable to die that very night--then alas! his soul would lie down in
everlasting burnings. At last, the youth was thoroughly alarmed. His
mother recollected she had continued just one week under conviction,
before light dawned in on her, and she considered that a proper period
for her son to go through. She contented herself, at first, by
cautioning him against a relapse into his old condition, for then seven
other spirits more wicked than the first would have possession of him,
and his last state would be worse than the first. Besides, he would run
great risk of sinning away his day of grace. It was soon understood in
the church that Hiram was under concern of mind. Mrs. Meeker, on the
fourth day, withdrew him from school, and sent for the minister to pray
with him. He found him in great distress, I might say in great bodily
terror; for he was very much afraid when he got into bed at night, he
might awake in hell the next morning. The clergyman was a worthy and a
sincere man. He was anxious that a true repentance should flow from
Hiram's present distress, and the lively agony of the child awakened his
strongest sympathy. He talked very kindly to him, explained in a
genuine, truthful manner, what was necessary. He dwelt on the mercy of
our heavenly Father, and on his love. He prayed with the lad earnestly,
and with many affectionate counsels he went away. Hiram was comforted.
Things began to look in a pleasanter light than ever before. He had only
to repent and believe, and it was his duty to repent and believe, and
all would be well. So it happened that when the week was out, Hiram felt
that he had cast his burden on the Lord, and was accepted by him.

There were great rejoicings over this event. Mrs. Meeker exclaimed,
while tears streamed from her eyes, that she was ready to depart in
peace. Mr. Meeker, who had by no means been indifferent to his son's
state of mind, and who had sought from time to time to encourage him,
(rather, it must be confessed, to his wife's annoyance,) was thankful
that he had obtained relief from the right source. The happy subject
himself became an object of a good deal of interest in the congregation.
There was not the usual attention, just then, to religious matters, and
Hiram's conversion was seized on as a token that more fruits were to be
gathered in from the same field, that is, among the young. In due course
he was propounded and admitted into the church. It happened on that day
that he was the only individual who joined, and he was the observed of
all observers. Hiram Meeker was a handsome boy, well formed, with an
interesting face, blight blue eyes, and a profusion of light hair
shading a forehead indicative of much intelligence. All this was
disclosed to the casual observer; indeed, who would stop to criticise
the features of one so young--else you would have been struck by
something disagreeable about the corners of his mouth, something
repulsive in the curve of those thin lips, (he had his mother's lips,)
something forbidding in a certain latent expression of the eye, while
you would remark with pain the conscious, self-possessed air with which
he took his place in the broad aisle before the pulpit, to give his
assent to the church articles and confession of faith. The good minister
preached from the text, 'Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy
youth,' and in the course of his sermon held up Hiram as an example to
all the unconverted youth of his flock. On Monday he returned to school,
prosecuting his studies more diligently than ever. He felt that he had
secured the true salvation, and was safe now in whatever he undertook.
He was very careful in the observance of all his religious exercises,
and so far as I can ascertain, never neglected any of them. Thus happily
launched, Hiram continued at school till he was nearly seventeen. He
had, for the last two years, been sent to Newton Institute, one of the
best institutions in the State, where his advantages would be superior
to those of the academy in his native town. There he learned the higher
branches of mathematics, and studied with care mercantile and
descriptive geography with reference to the different products of the
earth. During this time his proficiency was excellent, and his conduct
always most exemplary.

At length his course was completed, and Mrs. Meeker felt that her
cousin, the wholesale dry-goods jobber in New-York, would be proud of
such an acquisition in his establishment. He had been duly apprised that
the boy was named for him, and really appeared to manifest, by his
inquiries, a good deal of interest in Hiram. Although they generally met
once or twice a year, Mrs. Meeker did not apprise her cousin of her
plans, preferring to wait till her son should have finished his
academical course before making them known. Her first idea was to send
him to New-York with a letter, in which she would fully explain her
hopes and wishes. On second thought, she concluded to write first, and
await her cousin's reply. It will be seen, from the perusal of it, she
took the proper course.

Here it is:

'_New-York, May 15th, 18--._

'DEAR COUSIN: Your letter of May 12th is before me. I am glad to
hear you are all well at Hampton. We are much obliged for your kind
invitation for the summer. I think you may count confidently on a
visit from my wife and myself some time during the season, and I
have no doubt one of the girls will come with us. I know _I_ shall
enjoy it for one, and I am sure we all shall.

'As to my namesake, I am glad to hear so good an account of him.
Now, cousin, I really take an interest in the lad, and beg you will
not make any wry faces over an honest expression of my opinion. If
you want the boy to make a first-rate merchant, and SUCCEED, don't
send him to me at present. Of course, I will receive him, if you
insist upon it. But, in my opinion, it will only spoil him. I tell
you frankly, I would not give a fig for a city-bred boy. But I will
enter into this compact with you: I will undertake to make a
first-class merchant of Hiram, if you will let me have my own way.
If you do not, I can not answer for it. What I recommend is, that
you put him into one of the stores in your own village. If I
remember right, there are two there which do a regular country
trade, and have a general stock of dry goods, groceries, crockery,
clothing, stationery, etc., etc., etc. Here he will learn two
things--detail and economy--without a practical knowledge of which,
no man can succeed in mercantile business. I presume you will
consider this a great falling off from your expectations. Perhaps
you will think it petty business for your boy to be behind a
counter in a small country store, selling a shilling's worth of
calico, a cent's worth of snuff, or taking in a dozen eggs in
exchange, but there is just where he ought to be, for the present.
I repeat, he will learn detail. He will understand the value of all
sorts of merchandise; he will get a real knowledge of barter and
trade. When he learns out there, put him in another retail store of
more magnitude. Keep him at this three or four years, and then I
agree to make a merchant of him. I repeat, don't be disappointed at
my letter. I tell you candidly, if I had a son, that's just what I
would do with him, and it is just what I want you to do with Hiram.
I hope you will write me that you approve of my plan. If you do,
you may rely on my advice at all times, and I think I have some
experience in these matters.

'We all desire to be remembered to your husband and family.

'Very truly, your cousin,

'HIRAM BENNETT.'

He had added, from habit, '& Co.,' but this was erased.

The letter _was_ a heavy blow to the fond mother; but she recovered from
it quickly, like a sensible woman. In fact, she perceived her cousin was
sincere, and she herself appreciated the good sense of his suggestions.
Her husband, whom she thought best to consult, since matters were taking
this turn, approved of what her cousin had written, and so it was
decided that Hiram should become a clerk of Mr. Jessup, the most
enterprising of the two 'store--keepers' in Hampton. How he got along
with Mr. Jessup, and finally entered the service of Mr. Burns, at
Burnsville, must be reserved for a separate chapter.




_MONROE TO FARRAGUT._

By brutal force you've seized the town,
And therefore the flag shall not come down.
And having told you that it shan't,
Just let me show you why it can't.
The climate here is very queer,
In the matter of flags at this time of year.
If a Pelican touched the banner prized,
He would be _immediately_ paralyzed.
I'm a gentleman born--though now on the shelf,
And I think you are almost one yourself.
For from my noble ancestry,
I can tell the _elite_, by sympathy.
Had you lived among _us_, sir, now and then,
No one can say what you might have been.
So refrain from any sneer or quiz,
Which may wound our susceptibilities.
For my people are all refined--like me,
While yours are all low as low can be.
As for shooting women or children either,
Or any such birds of the Union feather,
We shall in all things consult our ease,
And act exactly as we please.
For you've nothing to do with our laws, you know,
Yours, merely 'respectfully, JOHN MONROE.'




_AMONG THE PINES._

Alighting from the carriage, I entered, with the Colonel, the cabin of
the negro-hunter. So far as external appearance went, the shanty was a
slight improvement on the 'Mills House,' described in a previous
chapter; but internally, it was hard to say whether it resembled more a
pig-sty or a dog-kennel. The floor was of the bare earth, covered in
patches with loose plank of various descriptions, and littered over with
billets of 'lightwood,' unwashed cooking utensils, two or three cheap
stools, a pine settee--made from the rough log and hewn smooth on the
upper-side--a full-grown blood-hound, two younger canines, and nine
dirt-encrusted juveniles, of the flax-head species. Over against the
fire-place three low beds afforded sleeping accommodation to nearly a
dozen human beings, (of assorted sizes, and dove-tailed together with
heads and feet alternating,) and in the opposite corner a lower couch,
whose finer furnishings told plainly it was the peculiar property of the
'wee-ones' of her family--a mother's tenderness for the youngest thus
cropping out even in the midst of filth and degradation--furnished
quarters for an unwashed, uncombed, unclothed, saffron-hued little
fellow about fifteen months old, and--the dog 'Lady.'

The dog was of a dark hazel-color--a cross between a setter and a
gray-hound--and one of the most beautiful creatures I ever saw. Her neck
and breast were bound about with a coarse cotton cloth, saturated with
blood, and emitting a strong odor of bad whisky; and her whole
appearance showed the desperate nature of the encounter with the
overseer.

The nine young democrats who were lolling about the room in various
attitudes rose as we entered, and with a familiar but rather deferential
'Howdy'ge,' to the Colonel, huddled around and stared at me with open
mouths and distended eyes, as if I were a strange being dropped from
some other sphere. The two eldest were of the male gender, as was shown
by their clothes--cast-off suits of the inevitable reddish-gray--much
too large, and out at the elbows and the knees; but the sex of the
others I was at a loss to determine, for they wore only a single robe,
reaching, like their mother's, from the neck to the knees. Not one of
the occupants of the cabin boasted a pair of stockings, but the father
and mother did enjoy the luxury of shoes--coarse, stout brogans,
untanned, and of the color of the legs which they encased.

'Well, Sandy, how is Lady?' asked the Colonel, as he stepped to the bed
of the wounded dog.

'Reckon she's a goner, Cunnel; the d----d Yankee orter swing fur it.'

This intimation that the overseer was a 'countryman' of mine, took me by
surprise, nothing I had observed in his speech or manners having
indicated it, but I consoled myself with the reflection that Connecticut
had reared him--as she makes wooden hams and nutmegs--expressly for the
Southern market.'

'He _shall_ swing for it, by ----. But are you sure the dog will die?'

'Not shore, Cunnel, but she can't stand, and the blood _will_ run. I
reckon a hun'red and fifty ar done for thar, sartin.'

'D---- the money--I'll make that right. Go to the house and get some
ointment from Madam--she can save her--go at once,' said my host.

'I will, Cunnel,' replied the dirt-eater, taking his broad-brim from the
wooden peg where it was reposing, and leisurely leaving the cabin.
Making our way over the piles of rubbish and crowds of children that
cumbered the apartment, the Colonel and I then returned to the carriage.

'Dogs must be rare in this region,' I remarked, as we resumed our
seats.

'Yes, well-trained bloodhounds are scarce every where. That dog is well
worth a hundred and fifty dollars.'

'The business of nigger-catching, then, is brisk, just now?'

'No, not more brisk than usual. We always have more or less runaways.'

'Do most of them take to the swamps?'

'Yes, nine out of ten do, though now and then one gets off on a
trading-vessel. It is almost impossible for a strange nigger to make his
way by land from here to the free States.'

'Then why do you Carolinians make such an outcry about the violation of
the Fugitive Slave Law?'

'For the same reason that dogs quarrel over a naked bone. We should be
unhappy if we couldn't growl at the Yankees,' replied the Colonel,
laughing heartily.

'_We_, you say; you mean by that, the hundred and eighty thousand nabobs
who own five sixths of your slaves?'[4]

[4: The statistics given above are correct. That small number of
slaveholders sustains the system of slavery, and has caused this
terrible rebellion. They are, almost to a man, rebels and
secessionists, and we may cover the South with armies, and keep
a file of soldiers upon every plantation, and not smother this
insurrection unless we break down the power of that class. Their
wealth gives them their power, and their wealth is in their
slaves. Free their negroes by an act of Emancipation, or
Confiscation, and the rebellion will crumble to pieces in a day.
Omit to do it, and it will last till doomsday.

The power of this dominant class once broken; with landed property
at the South more equally divided, a new order of things will arise
there. Where now, with their large plantations, not one acre in ten
is tilled, a system of small farms will spring into existence, and
the whole country be covered with cultivation. The six hundred
thousand men who have gone there to fight our battles, will see the
amazing fertility of the Southern soil--into which the seed is
thrown and springs up without labor into a bountiful harvest--and
many of them, if slavery is crushed out, will remain there. Thus a
new element will be introduced into the South, an element that will
speedily make it a loyal, prosperous, and _intelligent_ section of
the Union.

I would interfere with no one's rights, but a rebel in arms against
his country has no rights; all that he has 'is confiscate.' Will
the loyal people of the North submit to be ground to the earth with
taxes to pay the expenditures of a war brought upon them by these
Southern oligarchists, while the traitors are left in undisturbed
possession of every thing, and even their slaves are exempted from
taxation? It were well that our legislators should ask this
question now, and not wait till it is asked of them by THE PEOPLE.]

'Yes, I mean them, and the three or four millions of poor whites--the
ignorant, half-starved, lazy vermin you have just seen. _They_ are the
real basis of our Southern oligarchy, as you call it,' continued the
Colonel, still laughing.

'I thought the negro was the serf, in your feudal system?'

'Both the negro and the poor whites are the serfs, but the white trash
are its real support. Their votes give the small minority of
slave-owners all their power. You say we control the Union. We do, and
we do it by the votes of these people, who are as far below our niggers
as the niggers are below decent white men. Who that reflects that this
country has been controlled for fifty years by such scum, would give a
d---- for republican institutions?'

'It does speak very badly for _your_ institutions. A system that reduces
one half of a white population to the level of slaves can not stand in
this country. The late election shows that the power of your 'white
trash' is broken.'

'Well, it does, that's a fact. If the States should remain together, the
West would in future control the Union. We see that, and are therefore
determined on dissolution. It is our only way to keep our niggers.'

'You will have to get the consent of that same West to that project. My
opinion is, your present policy will, if carried out, free every one of
your slaves.'

'I don't see how. Even if we are put down--which we can not be--and are
held in the Union against our will, Government can not, by the
Constitution, interfere with slavery in the States.'

'I admit that, but it can confiscate the property of traitors. Every
large slaveholder is to-day, at heart, a traitor. If this movement goes
on, you will commit overt acts against the Government, and in
self-defense it will punish treason by taking from you the means of
future mischief.'

'The Republicans and Abolitionists might do that if they had the power,
but nearly one half of the North is on our side, and will not fight us.'

'Perhaps so; but if _I_ had this thing to manage, I'd put you down
without fighting.'

'How would you do it--by preaching Abolition where even the niggers
would mob you? There's not a slave in South-Carolina but would shoot
Garrison or Greeley on sight.'

'That may be, but if so, it is because you keep them in ignorance. Build
a free-school at every cross-road, and teach the poor whites, and what
would become of slavery? If these people were on a par with the farmers
of New-England, would it last for an hour? Would they not see that it
stands in the way of their advancement, and vote it out of existence as
a nuisance?'

'Yes, perhaps they would; but the school-houses are not at the
cross-roads, and, thank God, they will not be there in this generation.'

'The greater the pity; but that which will not nourish alongside of a
school-house, can not, in the nature of things, outlast this century.
Its time must soon come.'

'Enough for the day is the evil thereof, I'll risk the future of
slavery, if the South, in a body, goes out of the Union.'

'In other words, you'll shut out schools and knowledge, in order to keep
slavery in existence. The Abolitionists claim it to be a relic of
barbarism, and you admit it could not exist with general education among
the people.'

'Of course it could not. If Sandy, for instance, knew he were as good a
man as I am--and he would be if he were educated--do you suppose he
would vote as I tell him, go and come at my bidding, and live on my
charity? No sir! give a man knowledge, and, however poor he may be,
he'll act for himself.'

'Then free-schools and general education would destroy slavery?'

'Of course they would. The few can not rule when the many know their
rights. But the South, and the world, are a long, way off from general
education. When it conies to that, we shall need no laws, and no
slavery, for the millennium will have arrived.'

'I'm glad you think slavery will not exist during the millennium,' I
replied, laughing; 'but how is it that you insist the negro is naturally
inferior to the white, and still admit that the 'white trash' are far
below the black slaves?'

'Education makes the difference. We educate the negro enough to make him
useful to us, but the poor white man knows nothing. He can neither read
nor write, and not only that, he is not trained to any useful
employment. Sandy, here, who is a fair specimen of the tribe, obtains
his living just like an Indian, by hunting, fishing, and stealing,
interspersed with nigger-catching. His whole wealth consists of two
hounds and their pups; his house--even the wooden trough his miserable
children eat from--belongs to me. If he didn't catch a runaway nigger
once in a while, he wouldn't see a dime from one year to another.'

'Then you have to support this man and his family?'

'Yes, what I don't give him, he steals. Half-a-dozen others poach on me
in the same way.'

'Why don't you set them at work?'

'They can't be made to work. I have hired them time and again, hoping to
make something of them, but I never got one to work more than half-a-day
at a time. It's their nature to lounge and to steal.'

'Then why do you keep them about you?'

'Well, to be candid, their presence is of use in keeping the blacks in
subordination, and they are worth all they cost me, because I control
their votes.'

'I thought the blacks were said to be entirely contented?'

'No, not contented. I do not claim that. I only say that they are unfit
for freedom. I might cite a hundred instances in which it has been their
ruin.'

'I have never heard of one. It seems strange to me that a man who can
support another can not support himself.'

'Oh! no, it's not at all strange. The slave has hands, and when the
master gives him brains, he works well enough; but to support himself he
needs both hands and brains, and he has only hands. I'll give you a case
in point: At Wilmington, N.C., some years ago lived a negro by the name
of Jack Campbell. He was a slave, and he was employed, before the river
below the town was deepened so as to admit of the passage of large
vessels, in lightering cargoes up to the city. He hired his time of his
master, and carried on business on his own account. Every one knew him,
and his character for honesty, sobriety, and punctuality stood so high
that his word was considered among merchants as good as that of the
first business-men of the place. Well, Jack's wife and children were
free, and he finally took it into his head to be free himself. He
arranged with his master to purchase himself within a specified time, at
eight hundred dollars, and was to deposit his earnings, till they
reached the required sum, in the hands of a certain merchant. He went
on, and in three years had accumulated nearly seven hundred dollars,
_when his master failed_. As the slave has no right to property, Jack's
earnings belonged by law to his master, and they were attached by the
creditors, and taken to pay the master's debts. Jack then 'changed
hands,' received a new owner, who also consented to his buying himself,
at about the price previously agreed on. Nothing discouraged, he went to
work again. Night and day, he toiled, and it surprised every one to see
so much energy and fixedness of purpose in a negro. At last, after four
more years of labor, he accomplished his purpose, and received his
free-papers. He had worked seven years--as long as Jacob toiled for
Rachel--for his freedom, and like the old patriarch found himself
cheated at last. I was present when he received his papers from his
owner, a Mr. William H. Lippitt--who still resides at Wilmington--and I
shall never forget the ecstasy of joy which he showed on the occasion;
he sung and danced and laughed and wept, till my conscience smote me for
holding my own niggers, when freedom might give them so much happiness.
Well, he went off that day and treated some friends, and then, for three
days afterward, lay in the gutter, the entreaties of his wife and
children having no effect on him. He swore he was free, and would do as
he 'd----d pleased.' He had previously been a class-leader in his
church, but after getting free-papers, he forsook his previous
associates, and spent his Sundays and evenings in a bar-room. He
neglected his business; people lost confidence in him, and step by step
he went down, till in five years he stink into a wretched grave. That
was the effect of freedom on _him_, and it would be so on all his race.'

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