April 1856
Carlton Holmes Rogers (circa 1818–1884) of New York State wrote one of the period’s better travel books. He includes the expected observations on travel conditions, public institutions, etc., but unusual for the time, he was not as interested in slavery as were most travel writers. The following passage, however, does contrast slavery in Cuba and the American South. Even more unusual was his sympathetic treatment of poor whites. He made the effort to paint both the worst and the best, the latter deviating from convention.
Carlton Holmes Rogers, Incidents of Travel in the Southern States and Cuba (New York: R. Craighead, Publishers, 1862), 241–256.
After leaving Columbus we crossed the Chattahoochee River into Alabama, and proceeded by rail to this city, which is the capital of this state, and next in commercial importance to Mobile. When we entered Alabama, the appearance of the country began to improve. The soil was better; the agricultural districts richer; the scenery more varied; and all kinds of vegetation further advanced. Swelling hills crowned with trees in full foliage, and rich valleys and fertile plains clad in living verdure, with tiny streams meandering in the distance, formed a picture on which the eye delighted to linger.
I arrived in this city late in the afternoon, and secured a room at one of the best hotels, although it does not compare favorably with our third-rate New York hotels, and is not such as a stranger would expect to find in a town as large as this, and of equal commercial and political importance. I shall remain here for several days, and will write again before I take my departure. * * *
LETTER XVI.
MONTGOMERY, April, 1856.
There is a dreamy languor in the climate of the South, which indisposes one to exertion, and even the effort of letter writing—which, under ordinary circumstances, is but “a labor of love”—appears to me, at this time, to be an almost herculean task.
Montgomery is located at the head of steamboat navigation on the Alabama River, three hundred and thirty-one miles from Mobile, and has a population of about ten thousand. It is the western terminus of the Montgomery and West Point railroad, and has water communication with several important places. Its commerce is based mainly upon corn and cotton, about one hundred thousand bales of the fleecy product being annually shipped at this place. In the way of manufactures, Montgomery does but little, except, as some one has said, “to manufacture the politics of the State.” It is the great political centre of the Gulf States, and the congregating place for southern politicians, newspaper reporters, office-seekers, et hoc genus omne.
The city is beautifully situated. The business portion is in a valley extending nearly to the river; while the capitol occupies an eminence overlooking the lower part of the city, and the country which lies beyond it. Encircling this valley is a succession of hills and gentle undulations, forming as it were a natural amphitheatre dotted with villas and country-seats. I made the circuit on horseback. Every eminence that I ascended, revealed some new object to admire; some Italian villa or cottage orné peeping out from its wilderness of shrubbery, or a lordly mansion reposing in dignity beneath the perennial shade of giant live-oaks—the acknowledged monarchs of the southern forests. I rode for several hours through these delightfully picturesque suburbs, and had my admiration excited at every step. Nature created this a paradise. Art adorned and beautified it. But in this flowery Eden the trail of the serpent is visible. Notwithstanding its elevated location, the city is said to be quite unhealthy. The yellow fever, that pestilential scourge of the South, prevails here at times to an alarming extent, and other diseases less virulent in their nature seem to be, as it were, indigenous to this locality.
During my rambles I came to a spot of such quiet beauty and loveliness, that I stopped and gazed upon it for a long time in silent admiration. It was an inclosure of two or three acres, on whose swelling bosom of velvet softness reposed a modest little cottage almost buried in a wilderness of foliage and flowers. Standing near were two parental oaks, the protecting deities of the place, whose gigantic, out-stretched limbs, gnarled and defiant, strove in vain to meet above, and hide their offspring from the face of the over-arching sky. Encircling this classic retreat was a perennial hedge almost smothered in the embrace of creeping vines and plants in full bloom. Roses of various hues, and the fragrant honeysuckle and yellow flowering jasmine, were intermingled, yielding alike their perfume to the breeze, and filling the surrounding air with the purest life.
“A sweeter spot on earth was never found:
I looked and looked, and still with new delight,
Such joy my soul, such pleasures filled my sight.”
Time flew on angels’ wings, and the shades of evening were fast gathering, before I became conscious of the lateness of the hour. Returning to the hotel, I supped, and then wandered in the streets, which were as brilliant as handsome ladies and gas could make them. The shops and stores are all of modern style, and apparently well stocked with fashionable goods. Progress is unmistakably written on everything. Fogyism, that ancient enemy of enterprise and improvement, had fled at the first scream of the steam-whistle, and has not been seen here since. It is evidently a fast city, with its fast horses, fast men, and fast women. The latter are said to be the best in a long race, and generally manage to distance all their competitors. I find that two-forty is the standard time here among bipeds as well as quadrupeds, and those of less speed are excluded from the course by the arbiters of fashion.
The celebrated violinist Ole Bull gave a concert here the other evening, assisted, according to the bills, “by an eminent pianist, a celebrated performer on the cornet, and a distinguished Prima Donna.” The latter title was evidently a misnomer; as the lady, in my opinion, was not sufficiently skilled in the art of melody to be entitled to the first place in any opera, unless an Ethiopian burlesque.
Ole himself is in a very good state of preservation, considering that his life has been one of disappointments, reverses, and vicissitudes. He is not likely to hang up his fiddle and his bow for some years to come, unless so ordered by Providence; although I observed that the frosty fingers of Time had been playing with his locks and left their indelible impress.
Montgomery has more the air and appearance of a New York town than any Southern city that I have yet visited. Notwithstanding its Northern aspect, most of the inhabitants are ultra Southerners, who adhere with tenacity to their “peculiar institutions.” The legislature not being in session, I have not had an opportunity to see much of the office-holding and office-seeking chivalry. Many of the guests of our hotel appear to be members of the legal profession; at least, so I judged from their attachment to the bar-room, which is the best patronized part of the house. Its patrons, however, do not all seem to be professional men; but planters, cotton-brokers, and others without any particular business or occupation. The topic most frequently discussed is cotton, and “niggers,” which being rather a dry subject, those engaged in it were often obliged to resort to the bar, to lubricate their vocal organs, so that they may be understood by those around them.
Montgomery has become a great mart for cotton. Nearly all that is grown in Central Alabama is brought to this city to be shipped down the river, which flows for more than four hundred miles through the richest cotton region of the South, and carries each year thousands of bales of this valuable commodity to Mobile and New Orleans. Cotton is in reality the circulating blood which gives vitality to the state. All classes are interested in its culture, from the princely merchant to the lowly artisan; the wealthy planter with his broad fields and army of slaves, as well as the humble occupant of a cabin with a few contiguous acres. A failure of the cotton crop would cast a gloom over the entire community. It would paralyze their internal commerce, create a panic in their monetary affairs, and be absolutely ruinous to all planters of small means. Negroes, unlike their masters, are never affected by the price of cotton. Sometimes their market value is slightly diminished by a failure of the crop, or increased somewhat by an abundant harvest; yet they, as a class, are generally indifferent to its fluctuations. If they are not over-tasked or abused, and have a sufficiency of creature comforts, they appear to be satisfied and happy.
I find that the cost of living at the South, especially in cities and large towns, is considerably greater than at the North. I was told by a wealthy resident of this city that it would be cheaper for him to board with his entire family—some eight or ten in number—at any of the first-class hotels in New York, than to keep house here, notwithstanding he owned all his family servants and the dwelling he occupied. Most kinds of food, with the exception of those Southern staples, “hog and hominy,” are very dear, and the supply is not always equal to the demand. At least I have found it so in several cases when my appetite has been sharpened by travel. Many of their luxuries are brought from the North, but frequently, when they reach their place of destination, they no longer deserve the name, time and the climate having so impaired their edible qualities as to render them only fit to be used in the manufacture of bacon.
The keeping of so many slaves about their dwellings is an important item in the expense of living. Not that the food they eat and the clothes they wear, cost so very much; but they are idle, careless, and destructive, and wasteful to excess. In the culinary department, every article of food, whether prepared or in a crude state, has to be kept under lock and key; and when wanted for use, weighed or measured out, or it will be wasted or dispensed with ruinous prodigality. I have observed, in passing some of their first-class residences, the yard literally swarming with these human chattels; frequently a dozen or more in sight, of both sexes, and comprising at least three generations. Of that number, perhaps not more than two or three were of any service to their owner; the rest being incapacitated for work, by youth, infirmity, or age. I have no doubt that two or three domestics of the Teutonic or Celtic race, at a cost of as many hundred dollars per annum, will do more work, and with much less waste, than a whole family of slaves, whose yearly keeping and wasting cannot be accounted less than from eight to twelve hundred dollars.
Slave labor undoubtedly is profitable to the owners or occupants of large inland plantations, away from cities and towns, where the able-bodied of both sexes are made available as field hands. But here, as well as in other populous places at the South, where they are mainly employed as house servants, or in taking care of the premises of their owners, the labor of the few hardly compensates for the cost of maintaining the many. This class of servants are allowed more liberties than plantation negroes; of these they take advantage, and shirk labor whenever they can.
To a Northerner imbued with republican principles and inheriting the sentiments and prejudices of his Puritan ancestors, the existence of slavery, in its most favorable form, must appear unnatural and forbidding. But a few months’ residence at the South will, I opine, so change his views and soften his prejudices that he will regard the system with less abhorrence. I am no friend to slavery in the abstract, neither do I admire the practical workings of the system, as it is not in accordance with my views of equal-rights and universal freedom. Yet from observations made during a two months’ residence at the South, I am convinced that the slaves, as a class, are not so badly off as many of us suppose. They are generally well treated, and enjoy as many, if not more physical comforts than a majority of the free negroes at the North; and I am inclined to believe that the masters are, on the whole, more to he pitied than the slaves themselves.
The laws of Cuba are more favorable to emancipation, and protect the negro far better than do ours. The slaves on that island, according to the Code, must be worked only a specified number of hours each day, and their masters are obliged to provide them with a permanent subsistence. On Sundays and holidays they are allowed to work in their own gardens, or employ their time as they choose. Being by law protected in the enjoyment of a certain amount of property, they can, if disposed, apply their earnings to the purchase of their own freedom. The value of a slave, which is established by arbitration, in no case exceeds five hundred dollars, although his market value may be considerably more; and as soon as he has accumulated fifty dollars, his master is obliged to accept it towards the purchase of his freedom. Every instalment thus made secures for the slave a proportionate control of his own time, and it is not uncommon to see slaves who have three or four days in the week at their disposal. In case he should be sold before the expiration of his bondage, the amount he has paid must be carried to his credit by the new owner. A slave may also have the benefit of a change of masters provided he can show that he has been ill used. If, however, he can find some one willing to become his purchaser, and the parties cannot agree upon his value, they go before a commissioner appointed by government, who fixes a price, which the owner is obliged to accept, and in return make out a bill of sale to the new purchaser. The negro may have so bad a reputation that he cannot find any one willing to buy him. In that event, he remains with his master, who having taken him for worse instead of better, as the ladies sometimes take their husbands, is obliged to feed, clothe, and take care of him during sickness and health, in decrepitude and age. But the slaves in Cuba are regarded by their owners more as chattels than human beings, and there exists none of that affectionate regard so often manifested between master and servant in the Southern States. The slaves here, as a class, are more contented and happy, and apparently much better off than most of the emancipated negroes. The free negroes of the South, to speak paradoxically, are not in reality as free as the slaves themselves, and are apparently less happy and contented. Even the African in his bondage feels his own superiority, and looks the very picture of contemptuous pity as he exclaims—“He, poor miserable nigger, has no massa to take care of him.”
Among the many objectionable features in the institution of slavery, the separation of families and the sundering of conjugal ties have always appeared to me the most odious and inhuman. I find, on inquiry, that this is seldom practiced—at least, not to very great extent; and from the slaves themselves, I learn that this separation, when it does exist, is not generally regarded by them as a very great affliction.
I had a conversation a few days ago with an unctuous specimen of Ham-anity by the name of “Nick,” who was as black as his Satanic namesake, but of fewer evil propensities, if there is any truth in physiognomy, I asked him his age.
“Thirty seben nighabouts, Massa!” said he, respectfully touching his hat.
“Are you married, Nick?”
“Yas, Massa, I spose I is!”
“How many children have you?”
“Wall, I spects I’m de fader of ten, yaw, yaw.”
Here he displayed a set of teeth that would have excited the envy of many a Northern belle.
“Ten children? Why, Nick, that is quite a family for so young a man as you!”
“Why yas, Massa, Ise some on children!”
“How old is your wife?”
“Do-no zackly, but reckon she be some younger dan me!”
“Is she stout and healthy?”
“She be all dat, massa!”
“Does she belong to your master?”
“No, her massa lives a heap ways from here!”
“How often do you go to see her?”
“Do-no zacklv, sometimes once a month, and some-times nary as often!”
“Wouldn’t you like to see your wife and children more frequently?”
“I do-no, sar, sometimes I tink I would, but massa says I go dare nuff, and he knows better dan me.”
This conversation occurred nearly as I have related it, and is a fair specimen of the stolidity and indifference of the negroes on most of the Southern plantations. I refer to the genuine, full-blooded African, before his admixture with the gentle blood of the chivalric South, for, to use a sporting phrase, “blood will tell,” whether it be in the horses of the North, or in the colored chattels of the South. It is some-thing that will reveal itself whether in man or beast. But a truce to this nonsense, this dark rendering of a dark subject.
I came to this city contemplating a trip down the Alabama River to Mobile, and from there to New Orleans, but the weather is becoming so hot that I almost fear, in my present state of health, to risk a visit to those “infected districts,” or to trust myself for three or four days on a crowded steamer, with indifferent accommodations. If I abandon this trip, I shall seek a more invigorating climate. My next letter will probably be from New Orleans or Nashville. ******