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The American Revolution
A Historical Guidebook
The American Revolution
A H i s t or ic a l G u i de b o ok

The Conservation Fund

Frances H. Kennedy
Editor

1
 1
Oxford University Press is a department of the
University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective
of excellence in research, scholarship, and education
by publishing worldwide.

Oxford New York

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Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press

in the UK and certain other countries.

Published in the United States of America by

Oxford University Press
198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016

© The Conservation Fund 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,
without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press,
or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with
the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning
reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the
Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above.

You must not circulate this work in any other form,

and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The American Revolution : a historical guidebook
/ Frances H. Kennedy, editor.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and indexes.
ISBN 978-0-19-932422-4 (hardback)
1. United States—History—Revolution, 1775–1783—Battlefields—Guidebooks.
2. United States—History—Revolution, 1775–1783—Monuments—Guidebooks.
3. United States—History—Revolution, 1775–1783—Museums—Guidebooks.
4. Historic sites—United States—Guidebooks.
5. United States—Guidebooks. I. Kennedy, Frances H.
E230.A43 2014
973.3—dc23  2013040019

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed in the United States of America
on acid-free paper
 The Conservation Fund
dedicates this book to all Americans
and its proceeds to the protection
of historic places
 For e wor d

Today, you can still walk in the footsteps of the Revolutionary War soldiers, visiting the
meadows and farmland where lives were lost and families changed forever, in the name of
freedom. That is only possible because conservationists across the country have banded
together, collaborating to protect these places.
The Conservation Fund is proud to be part of this legacy. Since 1985, we have pro-
tected more than seven million acres, across America and in all 50 states. More than 200
projects protected historic places, including American Revolution lands in Massachusetts,
Delaware, and Pennsylvania, among other states. We’ve also conserved dozens of Civil
War battlefield sites, among other historic lands nationwide that have witnessed bravery,
tragedy, and triumph.
Our American story begins outdoors. We invite you to join us as partners in conser-
vation. Together, we can celebrate our outdoor heritage—and protect it for future genera-
tions to discover all over again.

Lawrence A. Selzer
President and CEO
The Conservation Fund

The Conservation Fund

1655 N. Fort Myer Drive, Suite 1300
Arlington, VA 22209
www.conservationfund.org
 Contents

Foreword vii
List of Maps and Illustrations xv
To the Reader xvii
Acknowledgments xix
Reference Maps for the 147 Places xxi

The Coming of the American Revolution 3

Places of the American Revolution

1. Boston Common, Massachusetts 21
2. Faneuil Hall, Massachusetts 22
3. Old State House, Massachusetts 23
4. Old South Meeting House, Massachusetts 33
5. Carpenters’ Hall, Pennsylvania 38
6. Old North Church, Massachusetts 45
7. Buckman Tavern, Massachusetts 47
8. Colonel James Barrett Farm, Massachusetts 47
9. Lexington and Concord, Massachusetts 48
10. Fort Ticonderoga, New York 52
11. Crown Point, New York 53
12. Independence Hall and Yard, Pennsylvania 53
13. Bunker Hill, Massachusetts 59
14. Old Cambridge, Massachusetts 63
15. Cambridge Common Encampment, Massachusetts 63
16. Gloucester, Massachusetts 64
17. Edmund Fowle House, Massachusetts 66
18. Fort Western, Maine 68
x C on t en ts

19. Williamsburg Powder Magazine, Virginia 69

20. Great Bridge, Virginia 71
21. Marblehead Town House, Massachusetts 78
22. Dorchester Heights, Massachusetts 81
23. Moores Creek, North Carolina 83
24. Halifax, North Carolina 86
25. Nikwasi, North Carolina 86
26. Charleston, South Carolina 87
27. Independence Hall and Yard, Pennsylvania 89
28. Bentley/Conference House, New York 107
29. Pell’s Point, New York 113
30. Valcour Island, New York 114
31. Newport, Rhode Island 115
32. Fort Washington, New York 117
33. Fort Lee, New Jersey 118
34. Mount Holly, New Jersey 119
35. Thompson-Neely House, Pennsylvania 120
36. Trenton, New Jersey 121
37. Trenton Barracks, New Jersey 121
38. Princeton, New Jersey 127
39. Nassau Hall, New Jersey 128
40. Morristown, New Jersey 129
41. Ridgefield and Compo Hill, Connecticut 131
42. Keeler Tavern, Connecticut 133
43. Fort St. Mark, Florida 134
44. Thomas Creek, Florida 134
45. Fort Tonyn and Alligator Creek Bridge, Florida 135
46. Fort Ticonderoga, New York 137
47. Mount Independence, Vermont 140
48. Hubbardton, Vermont 140
49. Elijah West’s Tavern, Vermont 141
50. Skenesborough, New York 142
51. Fort Ann, New York 143
52. Fort Edward, New York 145
53. Bennington, New York 146
54. Fort Stanwix, New York 147
55. Oriskany, New York 148
56. Fort Ticonderoga and Lake George, New York 150
57. Freeman’s Farm at Saratoga, New York 152
58. Forts Clinton and Montgomery, New York 153
59. Abraham Van Gaasbeek/Senate House, New York 153
60. Bemis Heights at Saratoga, New York 155
 C on t en ts xi

61. The Siege of Saratoga, New York 156

62. Hale-Byrnes House, Delaware 159
63. Brandywine, Pennsylvania 159
64. Paoli, Pennsylvania 160
65. Occupation and Evacuation of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 162
66. Peter Wentz Homestead, Pennsylvania 164
67. Fort Mercer, New Jersey 167
68. Fort Mifflin, Pennsylvania 168
69. Fort Randolph, West Virginia 169
70. Valley Forge, Pennsylvania 172
71. Fort Roberdeau, Pennsylvania 180
72. Monmouth, New Jersey 181
73. Newport, Rhode Island 186
74. Beavertail Light and Conanicut Battery, Rhode Island 187
75. Fort Barton, Rhode Island 188
76. Butts Hill Fort, Rhode Island 188
77. Bedford-Fairhaven, Massachusetts 190
78. Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts 191
79. Old Tappan, New Jersey 191
80. Lake Champlain, Vermont 192
81. Cherry Valley, New York 192
82. The Capture of HMS Hinchinbrooke and Sloop Rebecca, Georgia 193
83. Fort Morris, Georgia 195
84. Savannah, Georgia 196
85. Kettle Creek, Georgia 197
86. Camp Reading Cantonment, Connecticut 199
87. Hopewell Village and Furnace, Pennsylvania 200
88. Cornwall Furnace, Pennsylvania 201
89. Jerusalem Mill, Maryland 202
90. Fort Frederick, Maryland 203
91. Fort Laurens, Ohio 203
92. Vincennes, Indiana 204
93. Verplanck’s Point, New York 205
94. Stony Point, New York 206
95. New Town, New York 206
96. Penobscot Bay and River, Maine 207
97. Morristown, New Jersey 209
98. The Siege of Charleston, South Carolina 210
99. Powder Magazine, South Carolina 211
100. The Exchange, South Carolina 212
101. Waxhaws, South Carolina 213
102. Logan’s Fort, Kentucky 217
xii C on t en ts

103. Fort Boonesborough, Kentucky 218

104. Ruddell’s Station, Kentucky 219
105. Martin’s Station, Kentucky 219
106. Piqua, Ohio 220
107. Oneida Castle, New York 221
108. Canajoharie District, New York 222
109. Johnson Hall, New York 222
110. Stone Arabia, New York 223
111. Klock’s Field, New York 224
112. Fort St. George, New York 225
113. Ramsour’s Mill, North Carolina 225
114. Hanging Rock, South Carolina 227
115. Camden, South Carolina 228
116. Musgrove’s Mill, South Carolina 229
117. DeWint House, New York 231
118. Overmountain Victory National Historic Trail, South Carolina 234
119. Kings Mountain, South Carolina 236
120. Blackstock’s Plantation, South Carolina 238
121. Cowpens, South Carolina 243
122. Cowan’s Ford, North Carolina 246
123. Wilmington, North Carolina 248
124. Pyle’s Defeat, North Carolina 249
125. Independence Hall and Yard, Pennsylvania 251
126. Guilford Courthouse, North Carolina 255
127. Fort Watson, South Carolina 258
128. Hobkirk Hill, South Carolina 259
129. Ninety Six, South Carolina 260
130. Eutaw Springs, South Carolina 262
131. Green Spring, Virginia 268
132. Joseph Webb House, Connecticut 269
133. The Burning of New London, Connecticut 272
134. Yorktown, Virginia 273
135. Camp Security, Pennsylvania 282
136. Sharon Springs, New York 282
137. Johnstown, New York 283
138. West Canada Creek, New York 283
139. Gnadenhutten, Ohio 284
140. Crawford’s Defeat, Ohio 284
141. Bryan’s Station, Kentucky 285
142. Blue Licks, Kentucky 285
143. Arkansas Post, Arkansas 286
144. New Windsor Cantonment, New York 296
 C on t en ts xiii

145. John Ellison House, New York 298

146. Hasbrouck House, New York 299
147. Fraunces Tavern, New York 307

The Treaty of Paris and the Constitution 309

The Achievements of the American Revolution 312

Appendix A: The Declaration of Independence 337

Appendix B: “Report to Congress on the Historic Preservation of Revolutionary
War and War of 1812 Sites in the United States” 341
Timeline: 1763–1791 343
About the Authors 351
Additional Resources 359
Bibliography, Permissions, and Copyright Information 363
General Index  370
Index of Authors and Publications 387
 M a p s a n d I l lus t r at ion s

British North America after the Seven Years’ War 6

Distribution of British Troops in North America, 1766  17
Alexander McDougall, To the free and loyal inhabitants  26
John Adams to Catharine Macaulay, December 11, 1773  32
Mercy Otis Warren to Catharine Macaulay, December 29, 1774  42
Action on the Heights of the Peninsula of Charlestown, 17 June 1775  61
Henry Knox to George Washington, December 17, 1775  80
Lee Resolution for Independence, June 7, 1776  93
William James Stone, Declaration of Independence [W.J. Stone facsimile
on vellum], January 1, 1823  97
Thomas Jefferson’s portable writing desk  100
General George Washington’s leather-covered writing case  104
The Battle of Long Island  105
The Campaign in Manhattan and White Plains  109
General Washington in New Jersey  120
Revolutionary War Spy Map of Princeton, December 31, 1776  126
The Northern Campaigns 1777  136
The First Battle of Bemis Heights (Freeman’s Farm)  152
The Second Battle of Bemis Heights (Freeman’s Farm)  155
The Battle of Monmouth  183
General George Washington’s camp mess chest  185
The Southern Campaigns 1778–1781  194
George Washington to Anthony Wayne, September 6, 1780  232
The Battle of Kings Mountain  235
The Battle of Cowpens  242
Marquis Charles Cornwallis, A Proclamation, February 20, 1781  254
xvi M aps an d Illust r at io ns

General Lafayette leading the Continental Army toward Yorktown, 1781  267
The Siege of Yorktown  274
American, French, and British troop positions at Yorktown  279
Map of the United States of America following the Treaty of Paris, 1783  302
George Washington to Henry Knox, October 23, 1783  306
 To the R e a der

The United States of America began with a revolution. British subjects broke away from
the empire, declared their independence, and established the United States of America.
Thanks to the courage and vision of patriotic Revolutionaries, our nation was founded on
an enduring commitment to the principles of equality and liberty. Thanks to wise preser-
vation efforts by Americans over the centuries, we can learn about our history in the places
where this commitment was first made and defended.
In these places we can discover anew the remarkable people who founded our nation
and the relevance of their words and struggles for us today. In 1783, at the end of the Rev-
olutionary War, General George Washington wrote in his final Circular to State Govern-
ments that there were four things “essential to the well being, I may even venture to say, to
the existence of the United States as an Independent Power,” including “the prevalence of
that pacific and friendly Disposition, among the People of the United States, which will
induce them to forget their local prejudices and policies, to make those mutual concessions
which are requisite to the general prosperity, and in some instances, to sacrifice their indi-
vidual advantages to the interest of the Community.”
The American Revolution: A Historical Guidebook seeks to evoke this community, of-
fering an overview of the Revolution by focusing on 147 historic places that are critical to
our understanding of it, set in a roughly chronological narrative of the Revolution. Several
of these numbered places are repeated, such as Independence Hall, because significant
events occurred at each at different times. To illuminate these places and their historical
context, the Guidebook incorporates excerpts from some of the most outstanding books
written on the Revolution. These excerpts are also guides for further reading about the
places—as well as the people, documents, and events of the Revolution. The page numbers
of the excerpts are listed in the Bibliography, Permissions, and Copyright Information with
the books from which they are drawn. The excerpts do not include the authors’ notes and
footnotes or ellipses to denote deletions. Several excerpts are from websites and National
xviii To t h e R ea der

Park Service brochures listed in the Bibliography, Permissions, and Copyright Informa-
tion. The Conservation Fund and I are very grateful to the authors and their publishers for
their generous permissions to reprint these excerpts. Our thanks also to the Gilder Leh-
rman Collection, the Library of Congress, and the National Archives, for permission to
include images of historic documents from their collections, and to the National Museum
of American History for permission to include images of objects from its collections.
The 147 places discussed in these pages are drawn from the Report to Congress on the
Historic Preservation of Revolutionary War and War of 1812 Sites in the United States pre-
pared by the National Park Service in 2007. All of the historic buildings and many of the
battlefields are open to the public. Most have websites that provide information for visi-
tors. This guide includes with each numbered place its current name, location, and in-
formation about any historical markers and nearby museums. The battles fought on land
that is not open to the public are described without specific location information. Some
important battles, including Long Island in August of 1776, are described but the sites are
not among the 147 numbered places because they have been lost to development.
The six state maps at the end of the front matter show the general location of each
place by its number. Three places are not on the maps because the historic area is not open
to the public and there are no historical markers. The legend for each map shows the name
and number of each place, the nearest town, and the page number in this book.
The book’s appendices include the Declaration of Independence and an excerpt from
the 2007 National Park Service Report to Congress. The Timeline includes the main events
between 1763, when the Treaty of Paris ended the Seven Years’ War, and 1791, when three-
fourths of the states ratified the Bill of Rights. The About the Authors section includes
information about the authors of the excerpts and their books. Further Resources includes
the full addresses for the websites referenced; the names and locations of additional his-
toric places; and the National Park Service websites for the national historical parks, sites,
monuments, memorials, and battlefields included in this book. The Bibliography, Permis-
sions, and Copyright Information provides full details of the retained copyrights.
 Ac k n o w l e d g m e n t s

I am very grateful to the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History and to Sandra
Trenholm, Curator and Director of the Gilder Lehman Collection, and to Tom Mullusky,
Special Collections Librarian at The Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History, for
reproductions of the historic documents from the Collection. My thanks to Edward Red-
mond, Curator in the Geography and Map Division of the Library of Congress, for the
digitized images of historic maps from the Collections of the Library of Congress. My
thanks to Sam Anthony, Special Assistant to the Archivist of the United States, for digi-
tized images of documents from the collections of the National Archives and Records Ad-
ministration. My thanks to Harry R. Rubenstein, Chair and Curator, and Debra Hashim,
Associate Curator, in the Division of Political History, for providing images of objects
from the collections of the National Museum of American History. My thanks to Will
Allen, Director of Strategic Conservation Planning at The Conservation Fund, for de-
signing the six maps showing the 147 places.
Many authorities on the Revolution, in addition to the authors of the excerpts, and
on the historic places were generous with their help, information, and wise counsel. Those
in the National Park Service include: Marty Blatt, Erin Broadbent, Jonathan Burpee, Paul
Carson, Cassius Cash, Debbie Conway, Joe Craig, Charles Cranfield, Dawn Davis, Frances
Delmar, Diane Depew, Jeanne DeVito, Joe DiBello, Bert Dunkerly, Joe Finan, Leo
Finnerty, Barbara Goodman, Tanya Gossett, Rick Hatcher, Paul Hawke, Jason Howell,
Louis Hutchins, Peter Iris-Williams, Gina Johnson, Mary Laura Lamont, David Lowe,
Cynthia MacLeod, Brian McCutchen, Linda Meyers, Terry Mitchell, Nancy Nelson,
Leslie Obleschuk, Eric Olson, Karen Rehm, Chris Revels, Eric Schnitzer, Edie Shean-
Hammond, Timothy Stone, Robert Sutton, Coxey Toogood, Bill Troppman, Mary Beth
Wester, and John Whitehurst.
Another random document with
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how difficult it is for him to find his way from one house to any other
in particular; his only safety is in the fact that, unless there are
mountains or swamps in the way, he is not likely to go many miles
upon any waggon or horse track without coming to some white
man’s habitation.

The country passed through, in the early part of my second day’s

ride, was very similar in general characteristics to that I have already
described; only that a rather larger portion of it was cleared, and
plantations were more frequent. About eleven o’clock I crossed a
bridge and came to the meeting-house I had been expecting to
reach by that hour the previous day. It was in the midst of the
woods, and the small clearing around it was still dotted with the
stumps of the trees out of whose trunks it had been built; for it was
a log structure. In one end there was a single square port, closed by
a sliding shutter; in the other end were two doors, both standing
open. In front of the doors, a rude scaffolding had been made of
poles and saplings, extending out twenty feet from the wall of the
house, and this had been covered with boughs of trees, the leaves
now withered; a few benches, made of split trunks of trees slightly
hewn with the axe, were arranged under this arbour, as if the
religious service was sometimes conducted on the outside in
preference to the interior of the edifice. Looking in, I saw that a
gallery or loft extended from over the doors, across about one-third
the length of the house, access to which was had by a ladder. At the
opposite end was a square unpainted pulpit, and on the floor were
rows of rude benches. The house was sufficiently lighted by crevices
between the upper logs.
Half an hour after this I arrived at the negro-quarters—a little hamlet
of ten or twelve small and dilapidated cabins. Just beyond them was
a plain farm-gate, at which several negroes were standing: one of
them, a well-made man, with an intelligent countenance and prompt
manner, directed me how to find my way to his owner’s house. It
was still nearly a mile distant; and yet, until I arrived in its
immediate vicinity, I saw no cultivated field, and but one clearing. In
the edge of this clearing, a number of negroes, male and female, lay
stretched out upon the ground near a small smoking charcoal pit.
Their master afterwards informed me that they were burning
charcoal for the plantation blacksmith, using the time allowed them
for holidays—from Christmas to New Year’s Day—to earn a little
money for themselves in this way. He paid them by the bushel for it.
When I said that I supposed he allowed them to take what wood
they chose for this purpose, he replied that he had five hundred
acres covered with wood, which he would be very glad to have any
one burn, or clear off in any way.
Mr. W.’s house was an old family mansion, which he had himself
remodelled “in the Grecian style,” and furnished with a large wooden
portico. An oak forest had originally occupied the ground where it
stood; but this having been cleared and the soil worn out in
cultivation by the previous proprietors, pine woods now surrounded
it in every direction, a square of a few acres only being kept clear
immediately about it. A number of the old oaks still stood in the rear
of the house, and, until Mr. W. commenced “his improvements,”
there had been some in its front. But as he deemed these to have
an aspect of negligence and rudeness, not quite proper to be
associated with a fine house, he had cut them away, and substituted
formal rows of miserable little ailanthus trees. I could not believe my
ears till this explanation had been twice repeated to me.
On three sides of the outer part of the cleared square, which was
called “the lawn,” but which was no more like a lawn than it was like
a sea-beach, there was a row of negro-cabins, stables, tobacco-
houses, and other offices, all built of rough logs.
Mr. W. was one of the few large planters of his vicinity who still
made the culture of tobacco their principal business. He said there
was a general prejudice against tobacco, in all the tide-water region
of the State, because it was through the culture of tobacco that the
once fertile soils had been impoverished; but he did not believe that,
at the present value of negroes, their labour could be applied to the
culture of grain, with any profit, except under peculiarly favourable
circumstances. Possibly, the use of guano might make wheat a
paying crop, but he still doubted. He had not used it, himself.
Tobacco required fresh land, and was rapidly exhausting, but it
returned more money, for the labour used upon it, than anything
else; enough more, in his opinion, to pay for the wearing out of the
land. If he was well paid for it, he did not know why he should not
wear out his land.
His tobacco-fields were nearly all in a distant and lower part of his
plantation; land which had been neglected before his time, in a
great measure, because it had been sometimes flooded, and was,
much of the year, too wet for cultivation. He was draining and
clearing it, and it now brought good crops.
He had had an Irish gang draining for him, by contract. He thought a
negro could do twice as much work, in a day, as an Irishman. He
had not stood over them and seen them at work, but judged entirely
from the amount they accomplished: he thought a good gang of
negroes would have got on twice as fast. He was sure they must
have “trifled” a great deal, or they would have accomplished more
than they had. He complained much, also, of their sprees and
quarrels. I asked why he should employ Irishmen, in preference to
doing the work with his own hands. “Its dangerous work
[unhealthy?], and a negro’s life is too valuable to be risked at it. If a
negro dies, it’s a considerable loss, you know.”
He afterwards said that his negroes never worked so hard as to tire
themselves—always were lively, and ready to go off on a frolic at
night. He did not think they ever did half a fair days work. They
could not be made to work hard: they never would lay out their
strength freely, and it was impossible to make them do it.
This is just what I have thought when I have seen slaves at work—
they seem to go through the motions of labour without putting
strength into them. They keep their powers in reserve for their own
use at night, perhaps.
Mr. W. also said that he cultivated only the coarser and lower-priced
sorts of tobacco, because the finer sorts required more painstaking
and discretion than it was possible to make a large gang of negroes
use. “You can make a nigger work,” he said, “but you cannot make
him think.”
Although Mr. W. was so wealthy (or, at least, would be considered
anywhere at the North), and had been at college, his style of living
was very farmer-like, and thoroughly Southern. On their plantations,
generally, the Virginia gentlemen seem to drop their full dress and
constrained town habits, and to live a free, rustic, shooting-jacket
life. We dined in a room that extended out, rearwardly, from the
house, and which, in a Northern establishment, would have been the
kitchen. The cooking was done in a detached log-cabin, and the
dishes brought some distance, through the open air, by the servants.
The outer door was left constantly open, though there was a fire in
an enormous old fire-place, large enough, if it could have been
distributed sufficiently, to have lasted a New York seamstress the
best part of the winter. By the door there was indiscriminate
admittance to negro children and fox-hounds, and, on an average,
there were four of these, grinning or licking their chops, on either
side of my chair, all the time I was at the table. A stout woman acted
as head waitress, employing two handsome little mulatto boys as her
aids in communicating with the kitchen, from which relays of hot
corn-bread, of an excellence quite new to me, were brought at
frequent intervals. There was no other bread, and but one vegetable
served—sweet potato, roasted in ashes, and this, I thought, was the
best sweet potato, also, that I ever had eaten; but there were four
preparations of swine’s flesh, besides fried fowls, fried eggs, cold
roast turkey, and opossum, cooked, I know not how, but it
somewhat resembled baked sucking-pig. The only beverages on the
table were milk and whisky.
I was pressed to stay several days with Mr. W., and should have
been glad to do so, had not another engagement prevented. When I
was about to leave, an old servant was directed to get a horse, and
go with me, as guide, to the railroad station at Col. Gillin’s. He
followed behind me, and I had great difficulty in inducing him to ride
near enough to converse with me. I wished to ascertain from him
how old the different stages of the old-field forest-growth, by the
side of our road, might be; but for a long time, he was, or pretended
to be, unable to comprehend my questions. When he did so, the
most accurate information he could give me was, that he reckoned
such a field (in which the pines were now some sixty feet high) had
been planted with tobacco the year his old master bought him. He
thought he was about twenty years old then, and that now he was
forty. He had every appearance of being seventy.
He frequently told me there was no need for him to go any further,
and that it was a dead straight road to the station, without any
forks. As he appeared very eager to return, I was at length foolish
enough to allow myself to be prevailed upon to dispense with his
guidance; gave him a quarter of a dollar for his time that I had
employed, and went on alone. The road, which for a short distance
further was plain enough, soon began to ramify, and, in half an hour,
we were stumbling along a dark wood-path, looking eagerly for a
house. At length, seeing one across a large clearing, we went
through a long lane, opening gates and letting down bars, until we
met two negroes, riding a mule, who were going to the plantation
near the school-house which we had seen the day before. Following
them thither, we knew the rest of the way (Jane gave a bound and
neighed, when we struck the old road, showing that she had been
lost, as well as I, up to the moment).
It was twenty minutes after the hour given in the timetable for the
passage of the train, when I reached the station, but it had not
arrived; nor did it make its appearance for a quarter of an hour
longer; so I had plenty of time to deliver Tom’s wife’s message and
take leave of Jane. I am sorry to say she appeared very indifferent,
and seemed to think a good deal more of Tom than of me. Mr. W.
had told me that the train would, probably, be half an hour behind
its advertised time, and that I had no need to ride with haste, to
reach it. I asked Col. Gillin if it would be safe to always calculate on
the train being half an hour late: he said it would not; for, although
usually that much behind the timetable, it was sometimes half an
hour ahead of it. So those, who would be safe, had commonly to
wait an hour. People, therefore, who wished to go not more than
twenty miles from home, would find it more convenient, and equally
expeditious, taking all things into account, to go in their own
conveyances—there being but few who lived so near the station that
they would not have to employ a horse and servant to get to it.

——. ——. I have been visiting a farm, cultivated entirely by free

labour. The proprietor told me that he was first led to disuse slave-
labour, not from any economical considerations, but because he had
become convinced that there was an essential wrong in holding men
in forced servitude with any other purpose than to benefit them
alone, and because he was not willing to allow his own children to
be educated as slave-masters. His father had been a large
slaveholder, and he felt very strongly the bad influence it had had on
his own character. He wished me to be satisfied that Jefferson
uttered a great truth when he asserted that slavery was more
pernicious to the white race than the black. Although, therefore, a
chief part of his inheritance had been in slaves, he had liberated
them all.
Most of them had, by his advice, gone to Africa. These he had
frequently heard from. Except a child that had been drowned, they
were, at his last account, all alive, in general good health, and
satisfactorily prospering. He had lately received a letter from one of
them, who told him that he was “trying to preach the Gospel,” and
who had evidently greatly improved, both intellectually and morally,
since he left here. With regard to those going North, and the
common opinion that they encountered much misery, and would be
much better off here, he said that it entirely depended on the
general character and habits of the individual: it was true of those
who were badly brought up, and who had acquired indolent and
vicious habits, especially if they were drunkards, but, if of some
intelligence and well trained, they generally represented themselves
to be successful and contented.
He mentioned two remarkable cases, that had come under his own
observation, of this kind. One was that of a man who had been free,
but, by some fraud and informality of his papers, was re-enslaved.
He ran away, and afterwards negotiated, by correspondence, with
his master, and purchased his freedom. This man he had accidentally
met, fifteen years afterwards, in a Northern city; he was engaged in
profitable and increasing business, and showed him, by his books,
that he was possessed of property to the amount of ten thousand
dollars. He was living a great deal more comfortably and wisely than
ever his old master had done. The other case was that of a coloured
woman, who had obtained her freedom, and who became
apprehensive that she also was about to be fraudulently made a
slave again. She fled to Philadelphia, where she was nearly starved,
at first. A little girl, who heard her begging in the streets to be
allowed to work for bread, told her that her mother was wanting
some washing done, and she followed her home. The mother, not
knowing her, was afraid to trust her with the articles to be washed.
She prayed so earnestly for the job, however—suggesting that she
might be locked into a room until she had completed it—that it was
given her.
So she commenced life in Philadelphia. Ten years afterwards he had
accidentally met her there; she recognized him immediately, recalled
herself to his recollection, manifested the greatest joy at seeing him,
and asked him to come to her house, which he found a handsome
three-story building, furnished really with elegance; and she pointed
out to him, from the window, three houses in the vicinity that she
owned and rented. She showed great anxiety to have her children
well educated, and was employing the best instructors for them
which she could procure in Philadelphia.
He considered the condition of slaves to have much improved since
the Revolution, and very perceptibly during the last twenty years.
The original stock of slaves, the imported Africans, he observed,
probably required to be governed with much greater severity, and
very little humanity was exercised or thought of with regard to them.
The slaves of the present day are of a higher character; in fact, he
did not think more than half of them were full-blooded Africans.
Public sentiment condemned the man who treated his slaves with
cruelty. The owners were mainly men of some cultivation, and felt a
family attachment to their slaves, many of whom had been the
playmates of their boyhood. Nevertheless, they were frequently
punished severely, under the impulse of temporary passion, often
without deliberation, and on unfounded suspicion. This was
especially the case where they were left to overseers, who, though
sometimes men of intelligence and piety, were more often coarse,
brutal, and licentious; drinking men, wholly unfitted for the
responsibility imposed on them.
With regard to the value of slave-labour, this gentleman is confident
that, at present, he has the advantage in employing free men
instead of it. It has not been so until of late, the price of slaves
having much advanced within ten years, while immigration has made
free white labourers more easy to be procured.
He has heretofore had some difficulty in obtaining hands when he
needed them, and has suffered a good deal from the demoralizing
influence of adjacent slave-labour, the men, after a few months’
residence, inclining to follow the customs of the slaves with regard
to the amount of work they should do in a day, or their careless
mode of operation. He has had white and black Virginians,
sometimes Germans, and latterly Irish. Of all these, he has found
the Irish on the whole the best. The poorest have been the native
white Virginians; next, the free blacks: and though there have been
exceptions, he has not generally paid these as high as one hundred
dollars a year, and has thought them less worth their wages than
any he has had. At present, he has two white natives and two free
coloured men, but both the latter were brought up in his family, and
are worth twenty dollars a year more than the average. The free
black, he thinks, is generally worse than the slave, and so is the
poor white man. He also employs, at present, four Irish hands, and
is expecting two more to arrive, who have been recommended to
him, and sent for by those he has. He pays the Irishmen $120 a
year, and boards them. He has had them for $100; but these are all
excellent men, and well worth their price. They are less given to
drinking than any men he has ever had; and one of them first
suggested improvements to him in his farm, that he is now carrying
out with prospects of considerable advantage. Housemaids, Irish
girls, he pays $3 and $6 a month.
He does not apprehend that in future he shall have any difficulty in
obtaining steady men, who will accomplish much more work than
any slaves. There are some operations, such as carting and
spreading dung, and all work with the fork, spade, or shovel, at
which his Irishmen will do, he thinks, over fifty per cent. more in a
day than any negroes he has ever known. On the whole, he is
satisfied that at present free-labour is more profitable than slave-
labour, though his success is not so evident that he would be willing
to have attention particularly called to it. His farm, moreover, is now
in a transition state from one system of husbandry to another, and
appearances are temporarily more unfavourable on that account.
The wages paid for slaves, when they are hired for agricultural
labour, do not differ at present, he says, from those which he pays
for his free labourers. In both cases the hiring party boards the
labourer, but, in addition to money and board, the slave-employer
has to furnish clothing, and is subject, without redress, to any losses
which may result from the carelessness or malevolence of the slave.
He also has to lose his time if he is unwell, or when from any cause
he is absent or unable to work.
The slave, if he is indisposed to work, and especially if he is not
treated well, or does not like the master who has hired him, will
sham sickness—even make himself sick or lame—that he need not
work. But a more serious loss frequently arises, when the slave,
thinking he is worked too hard, or being angered by punishment or
unkind treatment, “getting the sulks,” takes to “the swamp,” and
comes back when he has a mind to. Often this will not be till the
year is up for which he is engaged, when he will return to his owner,
who, glad to find his property safe, and that it has not died in the
swamp, or gone to Canada, forgets to punish him, and immediately
sends him for another year to a new master.
“But, meanwhile, how does the negro support life in the swamp?” I
asked.
“Oh, he gets sheep and pigs and calves, and fowls and turkeys;
sometimes they will kill a small cow. We have often seen the fires,
where they were cooking them, through the woods, in the swamp
yonder. If it is cold, he will crawl under a fodder-stack, or go into the
cabins with some of the other negroes, and in the same way, you
see, he can get all the corn, or almost anything else he wants.
“He steals them from his master?”
“From any one; frequently from me. I have had many a sheep taken
by them.”
“It is a common thing, then?”
“Certainly, it is, very common, and the loss is sometimes exceedingly
provoking. One of my neighbours here was going to build, and hired
two mechanics for a year. Just as he was ready to put his house up,
the two men, taking offence at something, both ran away, and did
not come back at all till their year was out, and then their owner
immediately hired them out again to another man.”
These negroes “in the swamp,” he said, were often hunted after, but
it was very difficult to find them, and, if caught, they would run
again, and the other negroes would hide and assist them. Dogs to
track them he had never known to be used in Virginia.

Saturday, Dec. 25th.—From Christmas to New-Year’s Day, most of

the slaves, except house servants, enjoy a freedom from labour; and
Christmas is especially holiday, or Saturnalia, with them. The young
ones began last night firing crackers, and I do not observe that they
are engaged in any other amusement to-day; the older ones are
generally getting drunk, and making business for the police. I have
seen large gangs coming in from the country, and these contrast
much in their general appearance with the town negroes. The latter
are dressed expensively, and frequently more elegantly than the
whites. They seem to be spending money freely, and I observe that
they, and even the slaves that wait upon me at the hotel, often have
watches, and other articles of value.
The slaves have a good many ways of obtaining “spending money,”
which though in law belonging to their owner, as the property of a
son under age does to his father, they are never dispossessed of,
and use for their own gratification, with even less restraint than a
wholesome regard for their health and moral condition may be
thought to require. A Richmond paper, complaining of the liberty
allowed to slaves in this respect, as calculated to foster an
insubordinate spirit, speaks of their “champagne suppers.” The
police broke into a gambling cellar a few nights since, and found
about twenty negroes at “high play,” with all the usual accessories of
a first-class “Hell.” It is mentioned that, among the number taken to
the watch-house, and treated with lashes the next morning, there
were some who had previously enjoyed a high reputation for piety,
and others of a very elegant or foppish appearance.
Passing two negroes in the street, I heard the following:
“——Workin’ in a tobacco factory all de year roun’, an’ come
Christmas only twenty dollars! Workin’ mighty hard, too—up to
twelve o’clock o’ night very often—an’ then to hab a nigger
oberseah!”
“A nigger!”
“Yes—dat’s it, yer see. Wouldn’t care if ’twarn’t for dat. Nothin’ but a
dirty nigger! orderin’ ’round, jes’ as if he was a wite man!”
It is the custom of tobacco manufacturers to hire slaves and free
negroes at a certain rate of wages per year. A task of 45 lbs. per day
is given them to work up, and all that they choose to do more than
this they are paid for—payment being made once a fortnight; and
invariably this over-wages is used by the slave for himself, and is
usually spent in drinking, licentiousness, and gambling. The man
was grumbling that he had saved but $20 to spend at the holidays.
Sitting with a company of smokers last night, one of them, to show
me the manner in which a slave of any ingenuity or cunning would
manage to avoid working for his master’s profit, narrated the
following anecdote. He was executor of an estate in which, among
other negroes, there was one very smart man, who, he knew
perfectly well, ought to be earning for the estate $150 a year, and
who could do it if he chose, yet whose wages for a year, being let
out by the day or job, had amounted to but $18, while he had paid
for medical attendance upon him $45. Having failed in every other
way to make him earn anything, he proposed to him that he should
purchase his freedom and go to Philadelphia, where he had a
brother. He told him that if he would earn a certain sum ($400 I
believe), and pay it over to the estate for himself, he would give him
his free papers. The man agreed to the arrangement, and by his
overwork in a tobacco factory, and some assistance from his free
brother, soon paid the sum agreed upon, and was sent to
Philadelphia. A few weeks afterwards he met him in the street, and
asked him why he had returned. “Oh, I don’t like dat Philadelphy,
massa; an’t no chance for coloured folks dere; spec’ if I’d been a
runaway, de wite folks dere take care o’ me; but I couldn’t git
anythin’ to do, so I jis borrow ten dollar of my broder, and cum back
to old Virginny.”
“But you know the law forbids your return. I wonder that you are
not afraid to be seen here; I should think Mr. —— [an officer of
police] would take you up.”
“Oh! I look out for dat, massa; I juss hire myself out to Mr. ——
himself, ha! ha! He tink I your boy.”
And so it proved; the officer, thinking that he was permitted to hire
himself out, and tempted by the low wages at which he offered
himself, had neglected to ask for his written permission, and had
engaged him for a year. He still lived with the officer, and was an
active, healthy, good servant to him.
A well-informed capitalist and slave-holder remarked, that negroes
could not be employed in cotton factories. I said that I understood
they were so in Charleston, and some other places at the South.
“It may be so, yet,” he answered, “but they will have to give it up.”
The reason was, he said, that the negro could never be trained to
exercise judgment; he cannot be made to use his mind; he always
depends on machinery doing its own work, and cannot be made to
watch it. He neglects it until something is broken or there is great
waste. “We have tried rewards and punishments, but it makes no
difference. It’s his nature and you cannot change it. All men are
indolent and have a disinclination to labour, but this is a great deal
stronger in the African race than in any other. In working niggers,
we must always calculate that they will not labour at all except to
avoid punishment, and they will never do more than just enough to
save themselves from being punished, and no amount of
punishment will prevent their working carelessly and indifferently. It
always seems on the plantation as if they took pains to break all the
tools and spoil all the cattle that they possibly can, even when they
know they’ll be directly punished for it.”
As to rewards, he said, “They only want to support life: they will not
work for anything more; and in this country it would be hard to
prevent their getting that.” I thought this opinion of the power of
rewards was not exactly confirmed by the narrative we had just
heard, but I said nothing. “If you could move,” he continued, “all the
white people from the whole seaboard district of Virginia and give it
up to the negroes that are on it now, just leave them to themselves,
in ten years’ time there would not be an acre of land cultivated, and
nothing would be produced, except what grew spontaneously.”
[The Hon. Willoughby Newton, by the way, seems to think that if it
had not been for the introduction of guano, a similar desolation
would have soon occurred without the Africanization of the country.
He is reported to have said:—
[“I look upon the introduction of guano, and the success attending
its application to our barren lands, in the light of a special
interposition of Divine Providence, to save the northern neck of
Virginia from reverting entirely into its former state of wilderness and
utter desolation. Until the discovery of guano—more valuable to us
than the mines of California—I looked upon the possibility of
renovating our soil, of ever bringing it to a point capable of
producing remunerating crops, as utterly hopeless. Our up-lands
were all worn out, and our bottom-lands fast failing, and if it had not
been for guano, to revive our last hope, a few years more and the
whole country must have been deserted by all who desired to
increase their own wealth, or advance the cause of civilization by a
proper cultivation of the earth.”]
I said I supposed that they were much better off, more improved
intellectually, and more kindly treated in Virginia than further South.
He said I was mistaken in both respects—that in Louisiana,
especially, they were more intelligent, because the amalgamation of
the races was much greater, and they were treated with more
familiarity by the whites; besides which, the laws of Louisiana were
much more favourable to them. For instance, they required the
planter to give slaves 200 pounds of pork a year: and he gave a very
apt anecdote, showing the effect of this law, but which, at the same
time, made it evident that a Virginian may be accustomed to neglect
providing sufficient food for his force, and that they sometimes
suffer greatly for want of it. I was assured, however, that this was
very rare—that, generally, the slaves were well provided for—always
allowed a sufficient quantity of meal, and, generally, of pork—were
permitted to raise pigs and poultry, and in summer could always
grow as many vegetables as they wanted. It was observed, however,
that they frequently neglect to provide for themselves in this way,
and live mainly on meal and bacon. If a man does not provide well
for his slaves, it soon becomes known; he gets the name of a
“nigger killer,” and loses the respect of the community.
The general allowance of food was thought to be a peck and a half
of meal, and three pounds of bacon a week. This, it was observed, is
as much meal as they can eat, but they would be glad to have more
bacon; sometimes they receive four pounds, but it is oftener that
they get less than three. It is distributed to them on Saturday nights;
or, on the better managed plantations, sometimes on Wednesday, to
prevent their using it extravagantly, or selling it for whisky on
Sunday. This distribution is called the “drawing,” and is made by the
overseer to all the heads of families or single negroes. Except on the
smallest plantations, where the cooking is done in the house of the
proprietor, there is a cook-house, furnished with a large copper for
boiling, and an oven. Every night the negroes take their “mess,” for
the next day’s breakfast and dinner, to the cook, to be prepared for
the next day. Custom varies as to the time it is served out to them;
sometimes at morning and noon, at other times at noon and night.
Each negro marks his meat by cuts, so that he shall know it from the
rest, and they observe each other’s rights with regard to this,
punctiliously.
After breakfast has been eaten early in the cabins, at sunrise, or a
little before in winter, and perhaps a little later in summer, they go to
the field. At noon dinner is brought to them, and, unless the work
presses, they are allowed two hours’ rest. Very punctually at sunset
they stop work and are at liberty, except that a squad is detached
once a week for shelling corn, to go to the mill for the next week’s
drawing of meal. Thus they work in the field about eleven hours a
day, on an average. Returning to the cabins, wood “ought to have
been” carted for them; but if it has not been, they then go the
woods and “tote” it home for themselves. They then make a fire—a
big, blazing fire at this season, for the supply of fuel is unlimited—
and cook their own supper, which will be a bit of bacon fried, often
with eggs, corn-bread baked in the spider after the bacon, to absorb
the fat, and perhaps some sweet potatoes roasted in the ashes.
Immediately after supper they go to sleep, often lying on the floor or
a bench in preference to a bed. About two o’clock they very
generally rouse up and cook and eat, or eat cold, what they call their
“mornin’ bit;” then sleep again till breakfast. They generally save
from their ration of meal: commonly as much as five bushels of meal
was sent to town by my informant’s hands every week, to be sold for
them. Upon inquiry, he almost always found that it belonged to only
two or three individuals, who had traded for it with the rest; he
added, that too often the exchange was for whisky, which, against
his rules, they obtained of some rascally white people in the
neighbourhood, and kept concealed. They were very fond of whisky,
and sometimes much injured themselves with it.
To show me how well they were supplied with eggs, he said that
once a vessel came to anchor, becalmed, off his place, and the
captain came to him and asked leave to purchase some eggs of his
people. He gave him permission, and called the cook to collect them
for him. The cook asked how many she should bring. “Oh, all you
can get,” he answered—and she returned after a time, with several
boys assisting her, bringing nearly two bushels, all the property of
the slaves, and which they were willing to sell at four cents a dozen.
One of the smokers explained to me that it is bad economy, not to
allow an abundant supply of food to “a man’s force.” If not well
provided for, the negroes will find a way to provide for themselves. It
is, also, but simple policy to have them well lodged and clothed. If
they do not have comfortable cabins and sufficient clothing, they will
take cold, and be laid up. He lost a valuable negro, once, from
having neglected to provide him with shoes.
The houses of the slaves are usually log-cabins, of various degrees
of comfort and commodiousness. At one end there is a great open
fire-place, which is exterior to the wall of the house, being made of
clay in an inclosure, about eight feet square and high, of logs. The
chimney is sometimes of brick, but more commonly of lath or split
sticks, laid up like log work and plastered with mud. They enjoy
great roaring fires, and, as the common fuel is pine, the cabin, at
night when the door is open, seen from a distance, appears like a
fierce furnace. The chimneys often catch fire, and the cabin is
destroyed. Very little precaution can be taken against this danger.[16]
Several cabins are placed near together, and they are called “the
quarters.” On a plantation of moderate size there will be but one
“quarters.” The situation chosen for it has reference to convenience
of obtaining water from springs and fuel from the woods.
As to the clothing of the slaves on the plantations, they are said to
be usually furnished by their owners or masters, every year, each
with a coat and trousers, of a coarse woollen or woollen and cotton
stuff (mostly made, especially for this purpose, in Providence, R. I.)
for winter, trousers of cotton osnaburghs for summer, sometimes
with a jacket also of the same; two pairs of strong shoes, or one pair
of strong boots and one of lighter shoes for harvest; three shirts,
one blanket, and one felt hat.
The women have two dresses of striped cotton, three shifts, two
pairs of shoes, etc. The women lying-in are kept at knitting short
sacks, from cotton, which, in Southern Virginia, is usually raised for
this purpose on the farm, and these are also given to the negroes.
They also purchase clothing for themselves, and, I notice especially,
are well supplied with handkerchiefs, which the men frequently, and
the women nearly always, wear on their heads. On Sundays and
holidays they usually look very smart, but when at work, very ragged
and slovenly.
At the conclusion of our bar-room session, some time after midnight,
as we were retiring to our rooms, our progress up stairs and along
the corridors was several times impeded, by negroes lying fast
asleep, in their usual clothes only, upon the floor. I asked why they
were not abed, and was answered by a gentleman, that negroes
never wanted to go to bed; they always preferred to sleep on the
floor.
That “slaves are liars,” or, as they say here, “niggers will lie,” always
has been proverbial. “They will lie in their very prayers to God,” said
one, and I find illustrations of the trouble that the vice occasions on
every hand here. I just heard this, from a lady. A housemaid, who
had the reputation of being especially devout, was suspected by her
mistress of having stolen from her bureau several trinkets. She was
charged with the theft, and vociferously denied it. She was watched,
and the articles discovered openly displayed on her person as she
went to church. She still, on her return, denied having them—was
searched, and they were found in her pockets. When reproached by
her mistress, and lectured on the wickedness of lying and stealing,
she replied with the confident air of knowing the ground she stood
upon, “Law, mam, don’t say I’s wicked; ole Aunt Ann says it allers
right for us poor coloured people to ’popiate whatever of de wite
folk’s blessins de Lord puts in our way;” old Aunt Ann being a sort of
mother in the coloured Israel of the town.
It is told me as a singular fact, that everywhere on the plantations,
the agrarian notion has become a fixed point of the negro system of
ethics: that the result of labour belongs of right to the labourer, and
on this ground, even the religious feel justified in using “massa’s”
property for their own temporal benefit. This they term “taking,” and
it is never admitted to be a reproach to a man among them that he
is charged with it, though “stealing,” or taking from another than
their master, and particularly from one another, is so. They almost
universally pilfer from the household stores when they have a safe
opportunity.
Jefferson says of the slaves:
“Whether further observation will or will not verify the
conjecture, that nature has been less bountiful to them in
the endowments of the head, I believe that in those of the
heart she will have done them justice. That disposition to
theft, with which they have been branded, must be
ascribed to their situation, and not to any depravity of the
moral sense. The man in whose favour no laws of
property exist, probably feels himself less bound to
respect those made in favour of others. When arguing for
ourselves, we lay it down as fundamental, that laws, to be
just, must give a reciprocation of right; that without this,
they are mere arbitrary rules, founded in force, and not in
conscience; and it is a problem which I give to the master
to solve, whether the religious precepts against the
violation of property were not framed for him as well as
his slave? and whether the slave may not as justifiably
take a little from one who has taken all from him, as he
may slay one who would slay him? That a change of the
relations in which a man is placed should change his ideas
of moral right and wrong, is neither new, nor peculiar to
the colour of the blacks. Homer tells us it was so, 2,600
years ago:

“‘Jove fixed it certain, that whatever day

Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.’”
 CHAPTER IV.
THE ECONOMY OF VIRGINIA.

An Englishman will cross three thousand miles of sea, and, landing

in our Free States, find, under a different sky and climate, a people
speaking the same language, influenced by the same literature,
giving allegiance to the same common law, and with not very
dissimilar tastes, manners, or opinions, on the whole, to those of his
own people. What most strikes him is an apparent indifference to
conditions of living which he would at home call shabby. He will find
men, however, at whose homes he will hardly see anything, either of
substance, custom, or manner, by which he would know that he was
out of England, and if he asks how these manage to get waiters who
do not smell of the stable; and grooms who keep stirrups bright;
roofs which do not leak; lawns which are better than stubble fields;
walks which are not grassy; fences which do not need shoreing up;
staunch dogs; clean guns; strong boots and clothes that will go
whole through a thicket; the true answer will be, by taking double
the pains and paying double as much as would be necessary to
secure the same results in England, and that few men are willing or
able to do this.
I make half a day’s journey southward here, and I find, with an
equal resemblance between the people and those I left, an
indifference to conditions of living, which Mrs. Stowe’s Ophelia
describes as “shiftless,” and which makes the same sort of
impression on my mind, as the state of things at the North does
upon an Englishman’s. But, in this case, there has been no change in
the skies; I wear the same clothing, or if I come from the low sea-
board and, going in-land, gain elevation, I need some better
protection against cold. I also find exceptions; how are they to be
accounted for? The first step does not seem difficult. In this well-
provided, hospitable, and most agreeable household, for instance,
there are four times as many servants as in one which would
otherwise be as similar as possible to it at the North; to say nothing
of the governess, or of the New York plumber, who has been at work
here for a month; or of the doctor, who, having come fifteen miles to
lance the baby’s gums, stays of course to dine with us; or of the
German, who I am told—such is the value of railroads even at a
distance—left Richmond only at nine o’clock last night, and having
tuned the piano, will return in time for his classes there to-morrow;
or of the patent chain-pump pedlar, whose horses have been
knocked up in crossing the swamp; or of the weekly mail-carrier,
who cannot go on till the logs which have floated off the bridge are
restored. Mr. T. means soon, he tells me, to build a substantial
bridge there, because his nearest respectable neighbors are in that
direction. His nearest neighbours on this side of the creek, by the
way, he seems to regard with suspicion. They live in solitary cabins,
and he don’t think they do a day’s work in a year; but they somehow
manage to always have corn enough to keep themselves from
starving, and as they certainly don’t raise half enough for this, the
supposition is that his negroes steal it and supply it in exchange for
whisky. Clearly the negroes do get whisky, somewhere; for even
their preacher, who has been a capital blacksmith, and but for this
vice would be worth $2500, was taken with delirium tremens last
Sunday night, and set one of the outhouses on fire, so that the
energetic Mr. T., who will have things right about his “place,” has
determined to get rid of him, and will have him sold for what he will
fetch at the sheriff’s sale at the County House to-morrow; and Prior,
the overseer, must go to Richmond immediately, to see about a new
blacksmith, for the plumber says that until one is got he must stand
idle, and the ploughs are all needing repair. A less energetic man
would keep old Joe, in spite of his vice, on account of his old wife
and many children, and out of regard to the spiritual interests of his
flock, for when not very drunk, old Joe is reckoned the best preacher
in five counties. But Mr. T. is determined to live like a gentleman; he
is not going to have the hoofs of his thorough-breds spoiled; and he
will have hot and cold water laid on; and he tells Prior that if he can
find a first-rate shoer, young, healthy, active, and strong, and handy
at anything in the way of his trade, not to lose him, if he has to go
as high as $250, for the year; or, if necessary, he will buy such an
one outright, at any fair price, if he can have him on trial for a
month. If there is none in market, he must try to induce that
Scotchman who hung the bells to come up again for a few days.
“Treat him like a gentleman,” he says, “and tell him he will be paid
whatever he asks, and make as if it were a frolic.”
$250 a year, and a man’s board and clothing, with iron, coal, and,
possibly, doctor’s bills to be added, is certainly a high price to pay for
the blacksmith’s work of a single farm. This exceptional condition,
then, it is obvious on the face of things, is maintained at an
enormous expense, not only of money, but of nerve, time, temper, if
not of humanity, or the world’s judgment of humanity. There is much
inherited wealth, a cotton plantation or two in Mississippi and a few
slips of paper in a broker’s office in Wall Street, that account for the
comfort of this Virginia farmer, as, with something of the pride which
apes humility, he likes to style himself. And after all he has no road
on which he can drive his fine horses; his physician supposes the
use of chloric ether, as an anasthetic agent, to be a novel and
interesting subject of after-dinner eloquence; he has no church
within twenty miles, but one of logs, attendance on which is sure to
bring on an attack of neuralgia with his wife, and where only an
ignorant ranter of a different faith from his own preaches at irregular
intervals; there is no school which he is willing that his children
should attend; his daily papers come weekly, and he sees no books
except such as he has especially ordered from Norton or Stevens.
This being the exception, how is it with the community as a whole?
As a whole, the community makes shift to live, some part tolerably,
the most part wretchedly enough, with arrangements such as one
might expect to find in a country in stress of war. Nothing which can
be postponed or overlooked, without immediate serious
inconvenience, gets attended to. One soon neglects to inquire why
this is not done or that; the answer is so certain to be that there is
no proper person to be got to do it without more trouble (or
expense) than it is thought to be worth. Evidently habit reconciles
the people to do without much, the permanent want of which would
seem likely to be intolerable to those who had it in possession.
Nevertheless, they complain a good deal, showing that the evil is an
increasing one. Verbal statements to the same effect as the
following, written by a Virginian to the ‘Journal of Commerce,’ are
often heard.
“Hundreds of farmers and planters, mill owners,
tobacconists, cotton factories, iron works, steam-boat
owners, master builders, contractors, carpenters, stage
proprietors, canal boat owners, railroad companies, and
others, are, and have been short of hands these five years
past, in Maryland, Virginia, and the Carolinas. They pay
$150 or $200 a year each hand, and his board, and
stealing, and if that hand be present or absent, sick or
well, it is all the same. His clothes cost say $30 more, and
in many cases the hirer has to pay his policy of life
insurance.”
For all that, labourers are being constantly sent away. I have not
been on or seen a railroad train, departing southward, that it did not
convey a considerable number of the best class of negro labourers,
in charge of a trader who was intending to sell them to cotton-
planters. Thus it is evident that, great as is the need for more
labourers here, there is a still greater demand for them to raise
cotton; and in order to supply this demand, the Virginians suffer the
most extreme inconvenience. The wonder is, that their own demand
for labour is not supplied by free labourers. But it appears that
where negro slavery has long existed, certain occupations are, by
custom, assigned to the slaves, and a white man is not only
reluctant to engage himself in those occupations, but is greatly
disinclined to employ other whites in them. I have often asked:
“Why do you not employ white men?” (for this or that purpose for
which slaves could not be procured;) and, almost always, the reply
has been given in a tone which indicated a little feeling, which, if I
do not misapprehend it, means that the employment of whites in
duties upon which slaves are ordinarily employed is felt to be not
only humiliating to the whites employed, but also to the employer.
Nor is this difficulty merely a matter of sentiment. I have been
answered: “Our poor white men will not do such work if they can
very well help it, and they will do no more of it than they are obliged
to. They will do a few days’ work when it is necessary to provide
themselves with the necessaries of life, but they are not used to
steady labour; they work reluctantly, and will not bear driving; they
cannot be worked to advantage with slaves, and it is inconvenient to
look after them, if you work them separately.” And then, when I
push the inquiries by asking, why not send North and get some of
our labourers? “Well—the truth is, I have been used to driving
niggers, and I don’t think I could drive white men. I should not know
how to manage them.” So far as I understand the matter, then,
Virginia is in this position: there are slaves enough in most of the
country to mainly exclude white labourers from labouring men’s
occupations and to make the white people dependent on slave-
labour for certain things; but the slaves being drawn off almost as
fast as they grow up to grow cotton in the more Southern States,
and those which remain being managed with almost as much regard
for this demand as for the local demand for labour, this local demand
is not systematically provided for; and even if there were the
intention to provide for it, there are no sufficient means to do so, as
the white population increases in number much more rapidly than
the slave.[17] I do not mean that no whites are employed in the
ordinary occupations of slaves in Virginia. In some parts there are
few or no slaves, and the white people who live in these parts, of
course do not live without having work done; but even in these
districts it is hardly possible to find men or women, who are willing
and able to serve others well and faithfully, on wages. In some parts
white working men also drift in slowly from the Free States, but they
are too few and scattered to perceptibly affect the habits of the
people and customs of the country, while they rapidly adapt
themselves to these habits and customs. Thus it is questionable if as
yet they do not add more to the general demand for labour than
they supply to reduce it.
Still, it is where slaves remain in the greatest numbers,
proportionately to the whites, that the scarcity of labourers, or what
is practically the same thing, the cost of getting desirable work done,
is most obvious. Schools, churches, roads, bridges, fences, houses,
stables, are all more frequent, and in better repair, where the
proportion of whites to slaves is large, than in the “negro counties,”
as some are popularly designated, from the preponderance of the
slave population in them. I find this observation confirmed by an
examination of the Census returns and other documents.
In the North-western counties, Cabell, Mason, Brooke, and Tyler, in
or adjoining which there are no large towns, but a free labouring
population, with slaves in ratio to the freemen as one to fifteen only,
the value of land is over seven dollars and three quarters an acre.
In Southampton, Surrey, James Town and New Kent, in which the
slave population is as 1 to 2·2, the value of land is but little more
than half as much—$4.50 an acre.
The value of land of course rises with its availability to contribute to
the wants of men, and it can only be made available as labour can
be applied to it.
In Surrey, Prince George, Charles City, and James, adjoining counties
on James River, and originally having some of the most productive
soil in the State, and now supplied with the public conveniences
which have accrued in two hundred years of occupation by a civilized
and Christian community, the number of slaves being at present, to
that of whites as 1 to 1·9, the value of land is but $6 an acre.
In Fairfax, another of the first settled counties, and in which, twenty-
years ago, land was even less in value than in the James River
counties, it is now become worth twice as much.
The slave population, once greater than that of whites, has been
reduced by emigration and sale, till there are now less than half as
many slaves as whites. In the place of slaves has come another sort
of people. The change which has taken place, and the cause of it, is
thus simply described in the Agricultural Report of the County to the
Commissioner of Patents.[18]
“In appearance, the county is so changed in many parts,
that a traveller who passed over it ten years ago would
not now recognize it. Thousands and thousands of acres
had been cultivated in tobacco by the former proprietors,
would not pay the cost, and were abandoned as
worthless, and became covered with a wilderness of
pines. These lands have been purchased by Northern
emigrants; the large tracts divided and subdivided and
cleared of pines; and neat farm-houses and barns, with
smiling fields of grain and grass in the season, salute the
delighted gaze of the beholder. Ten years ago it was a
mooted question whether Fairfax lands could be made
productive; and if so, would they pay the cost? This
problem has been satisfactorily solved by many, and in
consequence of the above altered state of things school-
houses and churches have doubled in number.”
The following substantiates what I have said of the inavailability of
the native whites for supplying the place of the negroes exported to
the cotton plantations.
From the Patent Office Report for 1847.
“As to the price of labour, our mechanics charge from one
to two dollars a day. As to agricultural labour, we have
none. Our poor are poor because they will not work,
therefore are seldom employed.
“Chas. Yancey,
“Buckingham Co.,
Virginia.”
The sentence, “As to agricultural labour, we have none,” must mean
no free labour, the number of slaves in this county being according
to the Census 8,161, or nearly 3,000 more than the whole white
population. There are also 250 free negroes in the county.
From a Correspondent of the ‘American Agriculturist,’ Feb.
14, 1855.
“As to labourers, we work chiefly slaves, not because they
are cheaper, but rather because they are the only reliable
labour we can get. The whites here engage to work for
less price than the blacks can be got for; yet they will not
work well, and rarely work out the time specified. If any of
your friends come here and wish to work whites, I would
advise them by all means to bring them with them; for our
white labourers are far inferior to our blacks, and our
black labour is far inferior to what we read and hear of
your labourers.
“C. G. G.
“Albemarle Co.,
Virginia.”
In Albemarle there are over thirteen thousand slaves to less than
twelve thousand whites.
Among the native Virginians I find most intelligent men, very ready
to assert that slavery is no disadvantage to Virginia, and, as
necessary to the maintenance of this assertion, that slave-labour is
no clearer than free-labour, that is, than free-labour would be, if
slavery did not exist. It is even said—and, as I have shown, it is
practically true, at least wherever slavery has not in a great measure
withdrawn from the field—that white labour cannot live in
competition with slave-labour. In other words, the holder of slave-
labour controls the local market for labour, and the cost of slave-
labour fixes the cost of everything which is produced by slave-labour.
But it is a mistake which the Virginians generally make, when they
jump from this to the conclusion that slave-labour is therefore
cheaper under all circumstances than free-labour. It is evident that
slaves are valuable for another purpose than to supply the local
demand for their labour, namely, to supply the demand of the cotton
planter; consequently those slaves which are employed to supply the
local demand, must be employed either at a loss, or at what they
are worth to the cotton planter. Whether this is more or less than
free-labour would cost if the field were open, can only be
ascertained by comparing the cost of slave-labour in Virginia with
the cost of free-labour in the Free States.
An exact comparison on a large scale I cannot find the means of
making, but I have taken a great many notes which lead me with
confidence to a few important general conclusions.
Wages.—Many thousand slaves have been hired in Eastern Virginia
during the time of my visit. The wages paid for able working men—
sound, healthy, in good condition, and with no especial vices, from
twenty to thirty years old—are from $110 to $140; the average, as
nearly as I can ascertain, from very extended inquiry, being $120 per
year, with board and lodging, and certain other expenses. These
wages must represent exactly the cost of slave-labour, because any
considerations which would prevent the owner of a slave disposing
of his labour for those wages, when the labour for his own purposes
would not be worth as much, are so many hindrances upon the free
disposal of his property, and thereby deduct from its actual value, as
measured with money.
As the large majority of slaves are employed in agricultural labour,
and many of those, hired at the prices I have mentioned, are taken
directly from the labour of the farm, and are skilled in no other,
these wages represent the cost of agricultural labour in Eastern
Virginia.
In New York, the usual wages for similar men, if Americans, white or
black, are exactly the same in the money part; for Irish or German
labourers the most common wages are $10 per month, for summer,
and $8 per month, for winter, or from $96 to $120 a year, the
average being about $108.
The hirer has, in addition to paying wages for the slave, to feed and
to clothe him; the free labourer requires also to be boarded, but not
to be clothed by his employer. The opinion is universal in Virginia,
that the slaves are better fed than the Northern labourers. This is,
however, a mistake, and we must consider that the board of the
Northern labourer would cost at least as much more as the
additional cost of clothing to the slave. Comparing man with man,
with reference simply to equality of muscular power and endurance,
my final judgment is, that the wages for common labourers are
twenty-five per cent. higher in Virginia than in New York.
Loss from disability of the labourer.—This to the employer of free
labourers need be nothing. To the slave-master it is of varying
consequence: sometimes small, often excessively embarrassing, and
always a subject of anxiety and suspicion. I have not yet made the
inquiry on any plantation where as many as twenty negroes are
employed together, that I have not found one or more of the field-
hands not at work, on account of some illness, strain, bruise, or
wound, of which he or she was complaining; and in such cases the
proprietor or overseer has, I think, never failed to express his
suspicion that the invalid was really as well able to work as anyone
else on the plantation. It is said to be nearly as difficult to form a
satisfactory diagnosis of negroes’ disorders as it is of infants’,
because their imagination of symptoms is so vivid, and because not
the smallest reliance is to be placed on their accounts of what they
have felt or done. If a man is really ill, he fears lest he should be
thought to be simulating, and therefore exaggerates all his pains,
and locates them in whatever he supposes to be the most vital parts
of his system.
Frequently the invalid slaves neglect or refuse to use the remedies
prescribed for their recovery. They conceal pills, for instance, under
their tongue, and declare that they have swallowed them, when,
from their producing no effect, it will be afterwards evident that they
have not. This general custom I heard ascribed to habit, acquired
when they were not very ill, and were loth to be made quite well
enough to have to go to work again.
Amusing incidents, illustrating this difficulty, I have heard narrated,
showing that the slave rather enjoys getting a severe wound that
lays him up:—he has his hand crushed by the fall of a piece of
timber, and after the pain is alleviated, is heard to exclaim, “Bress
der Lord—der haan b’long to masser—don’t reckon dis chile got no
more corn to hoe dis yaar, no how.”
Mr. H., of North Carolina, observed to me, in relation to this difficulty,
that a man who had had much experience with negroes could
generally tell, with a good deal of certainty, by their tongue, and
their pulse, and their general aspect, whether they were really ill or
not.
“Last year,” said he, “I hired out one of my negroes to a railroad
contractor. I suppose that he found he had to work harder than he
would on the plantation, and became discontented, and one night he
left the camp without asking leave. The next day he stopped at a
public-house, and told the people he had fallen sick working on the
railroad, and was going home to his master. They suspected he had
run away, and, as he had no pass, they arrested him and sent him to
the jail. In the night the sheriff sent me word that there was a boy,
who said he belonged to me, in the jail, and he was very sick
indeed, and I had better come and take care of him. I suspected
how it was, and, as I was particularly engaged, I did not go near
him till towards night, the next day. When I came to look at him,
and heard his story, I felt quite sure that he was not sick; but, as he
pretended to be suffering very much, I told the sheriff to give him
plenty of salts and senna, and to be careful that he did not get much
of anything to eat. The next day I got a letter from the contractor,
telling me that my nigger had run away, without any cause. So I
rode over to the jail again, and told them to continue the same
treatment until the boy got a good deal worse or a good deal better.
Well, the rascal kept it up for a week, all the time groaning so, you’d
think he couldn’t live many hours longer; but, after he had been in
seven days, he all of a sudden said he’d got well, and wanted
something to eat. As soon as I heard of it, I sent them word to give