Among the Pines Part 2

"He promised to preserve the _statu quo_ in Charleston harbor, and we have direct information that he intends to send out reinforcements,"

rejoined Colonel A----.

"Can that be true? You know, Colonel, I never admired your friend, Mr.

Buchanan, but I cannot see how, if he does his duty, he can avoid enforcing the laws in Charleston, as well as in the other cities of the Union."

"The 'Union,' sir, does not exist. Buchanan has now no more right to quarter a soldier in South Carolina than I have to march an armed force on to Boston Common. If he persists in keeping troops near Charleston, we shall dislodge them."

"But that would make war! and war, Colonel," replied our host, "would be a terrible thing. Do you realize what it would bring upon us? And what could our little State do in a conflict with nearly thirty millions?"

"We should not fight with thirty millions. The other Cotton States are with us, and the leaders in the Border States are pledged to Secession.

They will wheel into line when we give the word. But the North will not fight. The Democratic party sympathizes with us, and some of its influential leaders are pledged to our side. They will sow division there, and paralyze the Free States; besides, the trading and manufacturing cla.s.ses will never consent to a war that will work their ruin. With the Yankees, sir, the dollar is almighty."

"That may be true," replied our host; "but I think if we go too far, they will fight. What think you, Mr. K----?" he continued, appealing to me, and adding: "This gentleman, Colonel, is very recently from the North."

Up to that moment, I had avoided taking part in the conversation. Enough had been said to satisfy me that while my host was a staunch Unionist,[B] his visitor was not only a rank Secessionist, but one of the leaders of the movement, and even then preparing for desperate measures. Discretion, therefore, counselled silence. To this direct appeal, however, I was forced to reply, and answered: "I think, sir, the North does not yet realize that the South is in earnest. When it wakes up to that fact, its course will be decisive."

"Will the Yankees _fight_, sir?" rather impatiently and imperiously asked the Colonel, who evidently thought I intended to avoid a direct answer to the question.

Rather nettled by his manner, I quickly responded: "Undoubtedly they will, sir. They have fought before, and it would not be wise to count them cowards."

A true gentleman, he at once saw that his manner had given offence, and instantly moderating his tone, rather apologetically replied: "Not cowards, sir, but too much absorbed in the 'occupations of peace,' to go to war for an idea."

"But what you call an 'idea,'" said our host, "_they_ may think a great fact on which their existence depends. _I_ can see that we will lose vastly by even a peaceful separation. Tell me, Colonel, what we will gain?"

"Gain!" warmly responded the guest. "Everything! Security, freedom, room for the development of our inst.i.tutions, and each progress in wealth as the world has never seen."

"All that is very fine," rejoined the "Captain," "but where there is wealth, there must be work; and who will do the work in your new Empire--I do not mean the agricultural labor; you will depend for that, of coa.r.s.e, on the blacks--but who will run your manufactories and do your mechanical labor? The Southern gentleman would feel degraded by such occupation; and if you put the black to any work requiring intelligence, you must let him _think_, and when he THINKS, _he is free_!"

"All that is easily provided for," replied the Secessionist. "We shall form intimate relations with England. She must have our cotton, and we in return will take her manufactures."

"That would be all very well at present, and so long as you should keep on good terms with her; but suppose, some fine morning, Exeter Hall got control of the English Government, and hinted to you, in John Bull fashion, that cotton produced by free labor would be more acceptable, what could three, or even eight millions, cut off from the sympathy and support of the North, do in opposition to the power of the British empire?"

"Nothing, perhaps, if we _were_ three or even eight millions, but we shall be neither one nor the other. Mexico and Cuba are ready, now, to fall into our hands, and before two years have pa.s.sed, with or without the Border States, we shall count twenty millions. Long before England is abolitionized, our population will outnumber hers, and our territory extend from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and as far south as the Isthmus. We are founding, sir, an empire that will be able to defy all Europe--one grander than the world has seen since the age of Pericles!"

"You say, with or without the Border States," remarked our host. "I thought you counted on their support."

"We do if the North makes war upon us, but if allowed to go in peace, we can do better without them. They will be a wall between us and the abolitionized North."

"You mistake," I said, "in thinking the North is abolitionized. The Abolitionists are but a handful there. The great ma.s.s of our people are willing the South should have undisturbed control of its domestic concerns."

"Why, then, do you send such men as Seward, Sumner, Wilson, and Grow to Congress? Why have you elected a President who approves of n.i.g.g.e.r-stealing? and why do you tolerate such incendiaries as Greeley, Garrison, and Phillips?"

"Seward, and the others you name," I replied, "are not Abolitionists; neither does Lincoln approve of n.i.g.g.e.r-stealing. He is an honest man, and I doubt not, when inaugurated, will do exact justice by the South.

As to incendiaries, you find them in both sections. Phillips and Garrison are only the opposite poles of Yancey and Wise."

"Not so, sir; they are more. Phillips, Greeley, and Garrison create and control your public opinion. They are mighty powers, while Yancey and Wise have no influence whatever. Yancey is a mere bag-pipe; we play upon him, and like the music, but smile when he attempts to lead us. Wise is a harlequin; we let him dance because he is good at it, and it amuses us. Lincoln may be honest, but if made President he will be controlled by Seward, who hates the South. Seward will whine, and wheedle, and attempt to cajole us back, but mark what I say, sir, I _know_ him; he is physically, morally, and const.i.tutionally a COWARD, and will never strike a blow for the UNION. If hard pressed by public sentiment, he may, to save appearances, bl.u.s.ter a little, and make a show of getting ready for a fight; but he will find some excuse at the last moment, and avoid coming to blows. For our purposes, we had rather have the North under his control than under that of the old renegade, Buchanan!"

"All this may he very true," I replied, "but perhaps you attach too much weight to what Mr. Seward or Mr. Lincoln may or may not do. You seem to forget that there are twenty intelligent millions at the North, who will have something to say on this subject, and who may not consent to be driven into disunion by the South, or wheedled into it by Mr. Seward."

"I do not forget," replied the Secessionist, "that you have four millions of brave, able-bodied men, while we have not, perhaps, more than two millions; but bear in mind that you are divided, and therefore weak; we united, and therefore strong!"

"But," I inquired, "_have_ you two millions without counting your blacks; and are _they_ not as likely to fight on the wrong as on the right side?"

"They will fight on the right side, sir. We can trust them. You have travelled somewhat here. Have you not been struck with the contentment and cheerful subjection of the slaves?"

"No, sir, I have not been! On the contrary, their discontent is evident.

You are smoking a cigar on a powder-barrel."

An explosion of derisive laughter from the Colonel followed this remark, and turning to the Captain, he good-humoredly exclaimed: "Hasn't the gentleman used his eyes and ears industriously!"

"I am afraid he is more than half right," was the reply. "If this thing should go on, I would not trust my own slaves, and I think they are truly attached to me. If the fire once breaks out, the negroes will rush into it, like horses into a burning barn."

"Think you so!" exclaimed the Colonel in an excited manner. "By Heaven, if I believed it, I would cut the throat of every slave in Christendom!

What," addressing me, "have you seen or heard, sir, that gives you that opinion?"

"Nothing but a sullen discontent and an eagerness for news, which show they feel intense interest in what is going on, and know it concerns _them_."

"I haven't remarked that," he said rather musingly, "but it _may_ be so.

Does the North believe it? If we came to blows, would they try to excite servile insurrection among us?"

"The North, beyond a doubt, believes it," I replied, "yet I think even the Abolitionists would aid you in putting down an insurrection; but war, in my opinion, would not leave you a slave between the Rio Grande and the Potomac."

The Colonel at this rose, remarking: "You are mistaken. You are mistaken, sir!" then turning to our host, said: "Captain, it is late: had we not better retire?" Bidding me "good-night," he was gone.

Our host soon returned from showing the guest to his apartment, and with a quiet but deliberate manner, said to me: "You touched him, Mr. K----, on a point where he knows we are weakest; but allow me to caution you about expressing your opinions so freely. The Colonel is a gentleman, and what you have said will do no harm, but, long as I have lived here, _I_ dare not say to many what you have said to him to-night."

Thanking the worthy gentleman for the caution, I followed him up stairs, and soon lost, in a sweet oblivion, all thoughts of Abolitionists, n.i.g.g.e.rs, and the "grand empire."

I was awakened in the morning by music under my window, and looking out discovered about a dozen darkies gathered around my ebony driver, who was clawing away with all his might at a dilapidated banjo, while his auditory kept time to his singing, by striking the hand on the knee, and by other gesticulations too numerous to mention. The songs were not much to boast of, but the music was the genuine, dyed-in-the-wool, darky article. The following was the refrain of one of the songs, which the reader will perceive was an exhortation to early rising:

"So up, good ma.s.sa, let's be gwoin', Let's be scratchin' ob de grabble; For soon de wind may be a blowin', An' we'se a sorry road to trabble."

The storm of the previous night had ceased, but the sky was overcast, and looked as if "soon de wind might be a-blowin'." Prudence counselled an early start, for, doubtless, the runs, or small creeks, had become swollen by the heavy rain, and would be unsafe to cross after dark.

Besides, beyond Conwayboro, our route lay for thirty miles through a country without a solitary house where we could get decent shelter, were we overtaken by a storm.

Hurriedly performing my toilet, I descended to the drawing-room, where I found the family a.s.sembled. After the usual morning salutations were exchanged, a signal from the mistress caused the sounding of a bell in the hall, and some ten or twelve men and women house-servants, of remarkably neat and tidy appearance, among whom was my darky driver, entered the apartment. They took a stand at the remote end of the room, and our host, opening a large, well-worn family BIBLE, read the fifty-fourth chapter of Isaiah. Then, all kneeling, he made a short extemporaneous pet.i.tion, closing with the LORD'S Prayer; all present, black as well as white, joining in it. Then Heber's beautiful hymn, "From Greenland's icy mountains," was sung; the negroes, to my ear, making much better music than the whites.

The services over, we adjourned to the dining-room, and after we were seated, the "Colonel" remarked to me: "Did you notice how finely that negro 'boy' (he was fully forty years old) sung?"

"Yes," I replied, "I did. Do you know him, sir?"

"Oh! yes, very well. His mistress wishes to sell him, but finds difficulty in doing so. Though a likely negro, people will not buy him.

He's too smart."

"That strikes me as a singular objection," I remarked.

"Oh! no, not at all! These _knowing_ n.i.g.g.e.rs frequently make a world of trouble on a plantation."

It was after ten o'clock before we were ready to start. The mills, the negro-quarters, and various other parts of the plantation, and then several vessels moored at the wharf, had to be seen before I could get away. Finally, I bade my excellent host and his family farewell, and with nearly as much regret as I ever felt at leaving my own home. I had experienced the much-heard-of Southern hospitality, and had found the report far below the reality.