“My Dear Sir: According to my promise, I directed a paper to meet you at Pittsburg and again enclose you one herein. This contains but a partial account of our doings when you were with us. You will receive a packet which I have caused to be directed to you at Boston, giving an account at each place where you stopped in your journey through this state, believing that it may be satisfactory to you, or to some of your friends, in giving a reference to the incidents occurring here on the gratifying occasion to our citizens of the young state of Alabama.“I hope you will have reached Boston by the time you wished, in good health and spirits, after a journey unexampled in our own or any othertime; a march so extended, so rapid, and at the same time so triumphant has never been the boast of any personage before, and it is truly a source of common congratulation among the friends of republican institutions and of free social order throughout the world.“I am too sensible of the fatigues of your late journey, of those gratifying attentions by which you will be surrounded when this shall have reached you, to add anything to them by a longer letter without material to make it interesting to you.“Hereafter when you shall be enjoying the tranquillity of your own domestic circle, I hope to have the pleasure of corresponding with you in conformity with your kind invitation when I parted with you.“I am, with sentiments of profound respect and esteem, your most obt.,“ISRAEL PICKENS.“General LaFayette.”
“My Dear Sir: According to my promise, I directed a paper to meet you at Pittsburg and again enclose you one herein. This contains but a partial account of our doings when you were with us. You will receive a packet which I have caused to be directed to you at Boston, giving an account at each place where you stopped in your journey through this state, believing that it may be satisfactory to you, or to some of your friends, in giving a reference to the incidents occurring here on the gratifying occasion to our citizens of the young state of Alabama.
“I hope you will have reached Boston by the time you wished, in good health and spirits, after a journey unexampled in our own or any othertime; a march so extended, so rapid, and at the same time so triumphant has never been the boast of any personage before, and it is truly a source of common congratulation among the friends of republican institutions and of free social order throughout the world.
“I am too sensible of the fatigues of your late journey, of those gratifying attentions by which you will be surrounded when this shall have reached you, to add anything to them by a longer letter without material to make it interesting to you.
“Hereafter when you shall be enjoying the tranquillity of your own domestic circle, I hope to have the pleasure of corresponding with you in conformity with your kind invitation when I parted with you.
“I am, with sentiments of profound respect and esteem, your most obt.,
“ISRAEL PICKENS.
“General LaFayette.”
This is a literal transcription of the first letter addressed by Governor Pickens to General LaFayette.
No change that has come to later times has been more radical than that in our schools. The discipline, management, method of instruction and general spirit of the school have all undergone a thorough transformation. In the early days, the old blue-back speller was a sine qua non in the elementary schools. Its columns and battalions of words, ranging from the least spellable words to those that are octosyllabic and even beyond, all of which had to be learned by rote, made many an excellent speller of the English. The modern method of acquiring ability to spell may be superior, but one who ever mastered the old blue-back was never known to be an indifferent speller. Consigned to the limbo of the junk heap, the blue-back may be, but to master it was to become the possessor of most of the words in common use, and more besides.
In former days the location of a country school was selected with reference to the largest possible patronage, while many boys and girls were forced to trudge the distance of several miles each morning to attend, and return the same distance home every afternoon. The buckets with curved wire handles would contain the dinners of the children of a given family. School periods extended from eight in the morning till four in the afternoon, with three brief intervals of recess during the day. For a well-regulated school, the furniture comprised plain, unpainted seats, none too comfortable, andunpainted desks. Where not so well regulated the seats were of split logs, backless, with peg supporters, and no desks, save that of the teacher, which was used at different times by a given class of students in taking writing lessons from the teacher.
This teacher sat on a platform, which was slightly raised, in order to give him complete oversight of each pupil. Within his desk were securely kept the sinews of discipline in the form of a number of well-seasoned hickories, flexible, tough, and just long enough for faithful execution. These were a source of terror to all alike, for under the nature of the discipline there were no immunes in view of certain infractions.
The rules of discipline were generally harsh, hard and drastic, the very essence of the unreasonable. A pupil failing to spell a given number of words, or to give a given number of correct answers, was straightway drubbed. This was done in a most mechanical way, as the machinery of discipline must, of course, run regularly. Nothing was said, but the teacher would administer the flogging, and go straight on with his other work. The fear of punishment, so far from acting as a stimulus, was a barbarous hindrance. Study was not pursued so much as a pleasure, as it was from fear of punishment.
A “big boy,” one past sixteen generally, was given the alternative of a flogging in the presence of the school, or of downright dismissal. No respect was had for the difference between a laborious, earnest student, who might be slow of acquisition, and one who was bright and quick, though the former mightbe the solider of the two, and often was. School was taught according to certain arbitrary rules and not according to the principle of common sense. Most schools were therefore regarded by pupils as terrors, and not as places of mental pleasure. A “tight” teacher, as the rigid disciplinarian was called, was much in demand. Many a pedagogue would lose an opportunity to procure a school because he was “loose,” or, as we would say nowadays, because he was reasonable, and not a ringmaster with his whip. No higher commendation was there than that one would flog even the largest boys. In consequence of this condition in the early school, the teacher was held in almost universal awe, with no touch of congeniality with any pupil.
In all recitations save those of reading and spelling, pupils would sit. The spelling classes were somewhat graded, and, in reciting, would stand in a line facing the teacher, who would “give out” the words to be spelled. Each syllable had not only to be spelled and articulated, but in spelling, each preceding syllable was pronounced, even to the close of the word. If, for instance, the word notoriety was given, the pupil would spell n-o, no, t-o, noto, r-i, notori, e, notorie, t-y, te, notoriety. When it would come to spelling long words, they would be rattled off with a volubility that was often amazing. It was interesting to hear words like incombustibility and honorificabilitudinity spelled after this fashion. As with a vocal fusillade, the pupil would clatter off long words, building each up as he would proceed, the teacher would stand with his head slightly careened to hear it properly done.Whatever other effect such exercise had, it gave clearness of articulation. If a word was misspelled, it was given to the next student with a “Next!” from the teacher, and if successfully spelled by the one next below him, he would “turn down” the one who failed, or, in other words, take his place in the line, sending the one who failed nearer toward the foot of the class. Like trembling culprits the pupils would thus stand throughout the recitation, and everyone who had missed spelling a given number of words, walked mechanically up to the teacher and took his drubbing. Every class of spellers was only a body of culprits on trial.
One of the choice pranks of those early days was that of “turning the teacher out.” When a holiday was desired, and had been previously declined, a revolt was almost sure to follow. A secret conclave of “the big boys” was held, a mutiny was hatched, a fearless ringleader was chosen, the plans were laid, and the time of the real issue awaited. On the morning of the desired holiday, the young conspirators would reach the school an hour or two in advance, barricade every door and window so that none could enter, and quietly await the coming of the teacher. He would usually demand that the house be opened, when the leader would inform him that it would be done solely on condition that he would give them a holiday.
The teacher’s ingenuity, tact, or physical strength was often sorely taxed by a juncture like this. It was not an easy thing to handle a half dozen or more determined boys just emerging into manhood, and those whose quiet grudge prompted a desirefor a tilt, at any rate, and the teacher must either yield and thus lose his grip thereafter, or take the chance of a rough and tumble with the odds against him. The usual method of settlement was to sound a truce, and compromise on some satisfactory basis. One advantage always lay on the side of the teacher—no matter how stern or severe his method of adjustment in quelling the rebellion, he would have the moral reinforcement of the parents, but it was an advantage that might prove more than a forlorn hope, if he should attack a body of muscular country boys.
Happily, those days are gone, with some slight advantages, perhaps, over some of the present methods, but with immensely more disadvantages. At least, the tyranny and brutality of the olden days have given place to common sense.
Among the defunct institutions of a past era in the state’s history, is that of the country grogshop, which was known in those days as “the cross roads grocery,” a name derived from the enterprising spirit of the keepers of such places to locate where the roads crossed, in order to catch more “trade.” Many of these country saloons became notorious resorts. These places were the rendezvous of the rustics of the hilarious type in those far-off days. These rude trysting places were the weekly scenes of coarse sports, gross hilarity, and of rough-and-tumble fights. Hither the rowdies gathered from a wide region, drank freely, yelled vociferously, and fought not a little. The monthly muster of the militia was usually in connection with one of these rural institutions, and hither would come “the boys” for an all-day frolic. While squirrel guns and old flint and steel rifles were used in the drill, these would never be brought into requisition when the combats would usually ensue. Shooting and stabbing were far less frequent then than now, the test of manhood being in agility, strength, and the projectile force of the fist. There were bullies, not a few, and when one got sufficiently under way to raise a yell like a Comanche Indian, it was regarded as a defiant banter. This species of “sport” would usually come as the last act of the tragedy of the day.
Among the diversions of the day was that oftest of marksmanship. The stakes were usually steaks, or, to use the terminology of the time, “a beef quarter.” To be able “to hit the bull’s-eye,” as the center of the target was called, was an ambition worthy of any rustic. A feat so remarkable made one the lion of the day, and his renown was widely discussed during the ensuing week. No greater honor could come to one than to be able to win a quarter, and “the grocery” was alluded to as a place of prominent resort throughout a wide community. There were also “racing days,” which was applied to foot races as well as to horse racing. There was a track for each hard by “the grocery,” and in the foot races the runners would strip bare to the waist, pull off their shoes, and run the distance of several hundred yards. Brace after brace of runners would test their speed during the day, the defeated contestant having always to “treat the crowd.”
This was varied, in turn, by horse racing day. Two parallel tracks were always kept in order by the grocery keeper for this equestrian sport. Scrawny ponies that had plowed during all the week were taken on the track on Saturday, betting was freely indulged in, the owners would be their own jockeys, and amusing were many of the races thus run.
Still another sport, cruel enough in itself, was that of the “gander pulling.” A large gander with greased neck would be suspended to a flexible limb overhanging the road, and one by one the horsemen would ride at full tilt, grasp the neck of the goose, and attempt to wring it off, while his horse was atfull speed. With many a piteous honk, the goose would turn its head here and there to avoid being seized, and it was not easy to accomplish the required feat. A given sum of money was the usual reward to the successful contestant. This cruel sport of more than seventy-five years ago was among the first to disappear from the programme of rural diversions. The reader of “Georgia Scenes” has been made familiar with this sport, which at one time was quite popular.
“Muster day,” which came once each month, was usually one of bloody hilarity. The crude evolutions on the field being over, “the boys” would return to the grocery, and, after being bounteously served several times at the bar, they were ready for the fun, which usually began with a wrestling or boxing bout, in which some one who was unsuccessful would change the scene into one of an out-and-out fray. When temper became ascendant, which was not difficult under the condition of free imbibing, one violent blow would invite another, when the crowd would form a ring around the belligerents, and cries of “Stand back!” and “Fair play!” would be heard on all hands. If one interfered in behalf of a kinsman or friend, he was pounced on by another, and not infrequently as many as a dozen men would be embroiled in a fisticuff battle. Nothing was tolerated but the fist. Not even a stick could be used, though when one was down under his antagonist it was accounted lawful to use the teeth, or even to fill the eyes of an opponent with sand, in order to make him squall. When the shriek of defeat was sounded, the successfulantagonist was pulled off, and some one treated him on the spot.
It was by this means that bullies were produced in those days. Sometimes a bully would come from some other region where he had swept the field, in order to test his prowess with a local bully. Bets would be made in advance, and the announcement through the region, a week or so in advance, would serve to draw an unusual crowd to the scene of pugilistic contest. A ring was drawn in the sand, and while the contest would begin in a boxing exercise, there came a time when it grew into a battle royal with the fists. The champions of different neighborhoods each felt that not only was his own reputation at stake, but that of his community. Bulls on the pastures would not fight with greater fierceness than would these rough rowdies. When one or the other would “give up,” then would come a general disagreement among the boozy bettors, and the entire crowd would become involved in a general melee.
Saturday night usually brought fresh accessions from the neighboring population, and frequently the brawls would last throughout the night. Broken fingers, noses, well-chewed ears, and dislocated teeth usually made up the casualties of the day. Bunged and beaten as many were, they would resume their usual labor during the next week, while the scenes of the preceding Saturday would be the subject of general comment, and the end of the following week would find them again at the grocery.
These groceries, so called, prevailed throughout the South till the opening of the Civil War, duringwhich it is presumed that the belligerently disposed got full gratification on fields of a different type. Among the changes wrought in our social life by the war, this was not among the least. Efforts to revive “the grocery” of the “good old times” after the return of the few from the battlefields of the war, proved abortive, and thus vanished this popular institution in the states of the South.
The rude crafts that once floated our magnificent rivers were crude and primitive enough, and were but a slight advance on the dugout or canoes of the red men. The heavy, clumsy flatboat, propelled in part by long oars used by the hand, and in part by long poles let down from the edge of the boat and by the pressure of the body urged slowly along, and by the use of grappling hooks to pull the boat upstream, were in use far into the twenties of the nineteenth century. These boats were of limited surface capacity, difficult of management, and exceedingly slow. An indication of their sluggish movement is afforded by the fact that in 1819, when Honorable Henry Goldthwaite was on his way from Mobile to Montgomery, to make the latter town his home, he was just three months on the voyage up the Alabama River. With slow movement and noiselessly, these heavy craft would be propelled up the river, and on approaching a given point the boatmen would signal their approach by firing a small cannon kept on each barge for that purpose. After the invention of the steam whistle, now so common, by Adrian Stephens, of Plymouth, England, whistles came at once into use on all American waters.
For ages these great streams had been rolling wanton to the sea, and after the occupation of Alabama by the whites, the natural advantages were readily recognized, but as nothing was then knownof the steam engine, of course there was nothing left but to employ the most available craft for transportation. For a long period, only the awkward barges and flatboats were used. It may be readily seen how the introduction of steamers on our rivers would facilitate individual and aggregate prosperity, which had been so long retarded by the slow process of navigation already mentioned.
Though Robert Fulton’s first grotesque steamer appeared on the waters of the Hudson as early as 1807, and while a steamer had not yet been seen in these parts, enterprising spirits, in anticipation of the coming use of steamboats, organized a company at St. Stephens, the territorial capital, in 1818, which company was duly authorized by the legislature of the Alabama Territory, and bore the name of the St. Stephens Steamboat Company. This was followed two years later by another, which was incorporated under the name of the Steamboat Company of Alabama, and a year later still came the organization of the Mobile Steamship Company. If it is supposed that the fathers had no enterprise in those early days, this will serve to disabuse the minds of all doubters. They were dealing in steam futures, but they were ready for the coming tide of steam progress. In due course of time, these rival organizations introduced steamers on the rivers of the state, but they were not rapid of locomotion, were at first small, rather elaborate in adornment, and afforded some degree of comfort to a limited number of passengers. These diminutive floaters were gradually displaced by larger vessels, the number multiplied, and by 1845 magnificent packets werelowered from the decks and became “floating palaces” on our waters.
At first, a steamer was propelled by a wheel at each side, but this gradually gave way to a single wheel at the stern. The period of the career of these magnificent steamers was a brief one, lasting not more than fifteen or twenty years before the outburst of the Civil War.
Railways in Alabama were still practically unknown, and steamboat travel was exceedingly popular. On the best and finest steamers the entertainment could scarcely be excelled. The staterooms were often elegant, and always comfortable, and the tables were banquet boards. The best country produce was gathered at the landings, and the table fare was one of the boasts of the steamers. The most sumptuous carpets were on the floors of the passenger saloons, while superb furniture was alike pleasing to the eye and comfortable in practical use. The boats were constructed with three decks, known, respectively, as the lower, the middle or passenger, and the upper or hurricane deck.
During the cotton season, which extended from September to March, or about one-half the year, the boats would descend the rivers loaded each trip with hundreds of bales of cotton, and returning, would be laden with merchandise, while in both directions, there was usually a throng of passengers. On some of the most elegant steamers were calliopes, the music of which would resound at night over many miles of territory pierced by the rivers. Nothing known to entertainment or comfort wasomitted on a first-class steamer in the forties and fifties.
Many of the landings on the rivers were located on high bluffs through which a flight of steps would lead from the summit to the water’s edge, the length of which flight would sometimes exceed several hundred feet. Alongside the uncovered stairway, was a tram for a wide car, which was nothing more than a platform on wheels, which wheels ran on two beams of wood, the surface of which was sheeted with iron. The car was operated by means of a pulley on the summit, which, in turn, was operated by a mule or horse moving in a circular enclosure. The freight from the steamer was strung along the bank below, to be cared for by the warehouse above. When cotton was to be shipped from the top of the bluff, a number of deck hands would go to the top of the steps, and each bale was slid down the tramway to the boat. The bale would be started endwise and descend with whizzing swiftness, strike the lower deck, be seized by the hands below, and put in place.
Great were the days of the reign of the steamboat! While slow, compared with later methods of travel, steamboat passage was the acme of comfort and enjoyment. The social pleasure afforded was unsurpassed. While it would require several days to go two or three hundred miles by boat, the element of time was not so much a consideration in those leisurely days as it is now, and the regret was often that the time of the passage was not longer. During the busy season the schedule of the boats was most irregular, and not infrequentlypassengers would wait the arrival of the boat for twenty-four hours, and sometimes even longer.
It was interesting, the contention and competition among the rival boats for freight and passenger traffic. In order to be able to advertise the popularity of a given steamer, the subordinate officers and others of the crew, would solicit passengers at the hotels of the terminal cities, and would not only offer free passage, sometimes, but actually offer a consideration of a small sum of money, in addition, to such as would make choice of that steamer in preference to another.
The war greatly crippled boating on the rivers, and with the rally and rehabilitation of the South from the effects of the war, the railway came on anon, and the steamers largely disappeared from our rivers.
Howard College, then at Marion, was burned on the night of October 15, 1854.
Dr. Henry Talbird was at the time the president of the institution, and his nightly habit was to make a thorough inspection of the grounds and buildings, in order to see that all was well. After making his usual and uniform round on the night just named, he went to bed somewhat after ten o’clock. He had fallen into deep sleep, when he was aroused by the ringing of bells and the loud cry of “Fire! Fire! Fire!” On rushing out, he found the lower floor of the dormitory all ablaze, the fire already having begun its ascent up the stairway.
To this day the origin of the fire is a mystery. It was in the fall of the year, the weather was still warm, and there was no occasion for fire about the building. The basement was one mass of rolling flames when first the building was reached. In a house near by, the janitor, a negro boy of twenty-three, was sleeping, and when he reached the scene, the flames were moving steadily up the stairway. He made a movement as if to plunge into the flames, when he was warned to keep clear. He replied that he must save the boys who were sleeping on the two upper floors, and did plunge through fire and smoke, and disappeared beyond.
Within a short time many of the people of the town had gathered, and the boys began to leap, one after another, to the ground. Ladders were brought into requisition to aid those on the highest floor toescape. Every student was aroused by the heroic colored janitor, and all but one had descended safely to the ground.
The young man who was still missing soon appeared at a window and was saved through the exertions of the late Dr. Noah K. Davis, late professor of philosophy in the University of Virginia, and several others.
About this time the negro boy, burnt almost bare, and raw from his burns, his hair burnt from his head, and his eyebrows and lashes gone, appeared at one of the highest windows and flung himself to the ground, about sixty feet below.
He rolled over on the grass a dead man.
His body was drawn from under the influence of the intense heat, and every effort was made to restore life, but he had been burned to death, and evidently had thrown himself from the window to prevent his body from being consumed in the burning building.
The terrible fire was now lost sight of in the attention which was bestowed on the faithful negro janitor. He had given his life for others.
The following morning, elaborate preparations were made for the becoming burial of the heroic Harry. Negro slave, as he was, he was honored with a burial from the leading white church of the town.
The building was packed with wealthy planters, merchants, lawyers, and their families to do honor to the hero of the fire.
In the funeral services leading citizens arose, one by one, to pronounce eulogies on the dead slave.
Flowers were in profusion, and the procession to the cemetery was composed of the carriages of the wealthy. Greater distinction could not have been shown the most eminent citizen of the town.
At the grave, every possible consideration was shown, and mournfully the vast crowd turned from the grave of an humble slave. A sum of money was at once raised for the purpose of placing a high marble shaft at his grave, and in the cemetery at Marion it still stands conspicuously, with the inscriptions undimmed by the storms of more than half a century. On the front of the shaft is the inscription: “Harry, servant of H. H. Talbird, D.D., president of Howard College, who lost his life from injuries received while rousing the students at the burning of the college building, on the night of October 15, 1854, aged 23 years.” On another side appears the inscription: “A consistent member of the Baptist church, he illustrated the character of a Christian servant, ‘faithful unto death.’” On still another side appears the language: “As a grateful tribute to his fidelity, and to commemorate a noble act, this monument has been erected by the students of Howard College and the Alabama Baptist Convention.” The fourth side of the monument bears this inscription: “He was employed as a waiter in the college, and when alarmed by the flames at midnight, and warned to escape for his life, he replied, ‘I must wake the boys first,’ and thus saved their lives at the cost of his own.”
Here humanity asserted itself to the full. Uninfluenced by any other consideration than that a young man had proved himself a hero in a direcrisis, every worthy man and woman was ready to accord to a dead but heroic slave, the merits of his just deserts.
At this time the country was shaken by the acrimonious discussion of domestic slavery, in which the negro was as extravagantly exploited in the North as he was depreciated in the South; so much so, indeed, that it was deemed unwise in the South to accord him other than ordinary consideration. But in a juncture like this, humanity asserted itself, and to the faithful negro janitor every possible honor was shown. For when an ignorant slave boy became a rare hero, and voluntarily gave his life for others, all else, for the time, was forgotten at the bar of tested humanity.
The name of Harry was heralded through the press of the country, and on the floor of the Baptist State Convention of Alabama wealthy slave owners eulogized him a hero, and freely opened their purses to give expression to their appreciation of his chivalrous conduct in saving the lives of so many.
“World-wide apart, and yet akin,As shown that the human heartBeats on forever as of old.”
The year 1849 is signalized as the most remarkable in the history of the state. The winter was ushered in by mildness, there was but little harsh weather during the entire season, and the winter was early merged into the mildness of spring. Vegetable life began to appear in the greenswards, the blossoms came in profusion, birds were singing and nesting, vegetables grew to early perfection, and the good housewives were careful to stow away the winter apparel with safeguards against moths and other destructive insects.
Planters were awake to turning the advanced season to practical account, the fields were plowed and planted, and the young crops began growing rapidly under the genial and fervid skies. The crops were much advanced because of these favorable conditions, and the fruit was rapidly increasing in size. Every indication pointed to a prosperous year, and the flash of confidence was in the eye of every planter. Cool snaps would now and then come, but they were not of such character as to occasion concern, and the young crops were growing rapidly apace. Corn had been planted early, and excellent stands were everywhere to be seen. The peculiar season excited much wonder, and was the occasion of not a little comment. There was a rush and bustle of life everywhere. Cotton was early planted, was chopped out, and was rapidly growing off.
The burst of summertide had practically come bythe middle of April, the gardens were yielding abundantly of vegetables, and cold weather came to be regarded as a memory. The oldest declared that they had never before witnessed a year like that, and the indications were that the harvest would come at least a month in advance of any previous year. Early fruits began to ripen, and progressive housewives were vying with each other in the production of early fruits and vegetables, and especially in the quantity of eggs gathered.
Near the latter part of April of that year a sudden change came. The atmosphere became rapidly chilly, but as snaps had come at different times, this occasioned no serious alarm.
But the weather continued to become more icy, and there was a rapid shift of apparel. The sudden change culminated in one of the fiercest freezes that had occurred within a number of years. The corn was waist high, and the cotton fully twelve inches in height, and perfectly clear of grass. The morning following the severe freeze revealed a wide waste of desolation. Wilt and blight and death were everywhere. The deepest green was turned into sallow, and cheerlessness everywhere reigned. Not a glimpse of green was to be seen. Gardens, fields and pastures equally shared in the general desolation. Not a note of a bird could be heard, many of the songsters were found dead, and nature seemed to put on the weeds of mourning.
The enthusiasm of the planting public was turned into consternation. There was everywhere dismay. The season was well advanced, seed was scarce and difficult to be had, and the sudden check was ashock. The difficulty was that few knew what to do in the presence of a phenomenon so remarkable. But there was no halt on the part of the progressive planters. They resumed their activity and fell to the work of planting anew. The soil was in excellent condition, economy was had in the use of seed, and soon another crop was planted. The weather rapidly changed to warmth again, showers followed, and the seasons thenceforth were ideal. Every condition favored germination and growth, cultivation was rapid, and within a few weeks the fields were again radiant in vernal freshness. The leaves came again slowly on the trees, though many of the trees died. Fruit utterly failed, and not a few of the fruit trees were killed.
As with compensating balance, a long summer ensued, followed by a late fall, the crops grew rapidly to perfection, every condition favored their tillage and final harvesting, the whole resulting in one of the most bounteous crops produced up to that time in the state.
Hickorynuts, walnuts, acorns, and swampmast generally were abundant to the salvation of the small game of the woods, and to the supplementary aid of the raisers of hogs, and no inconvenience was experienced save that everything was backward.
The opening of the cotton market was delayed for a month or six weeks, but the price was good, and the year 1849 recovered from its disaster, and proved to be one of the most prosperous that had ever been experienced. Merchants who were accustomed to go north for their stocks were somewhatdelayed, but so were the seasons, and conditions were amply equalized by the close of the year, and events took their usual and uniform round.
To be sure, scientific wiseacres here and there declared that the seasons were changing, just as is always true when phenomena come, but practical men went on their way, farmers becoming more economic and careful, but as ’49 receded, it became a year much talked of during the then existing generation, and in time became a tradition as a remarkable exception among the years.
Remarkable meteorological phenomena have come in all periods of history, and while they have furnished supposed data to a certain class of scientists, so-called, with which they have woven theories not a few, the temperature of the different zones has continued as of old, and while fatuous theories have gone to the winds, the seasons have kept on their wonted rounds as of old.
The modification of temperature may come as a result of certain conditions like that of the denudation of our forests and others, yet there is scarcely any prospect that any material change will come, for so long as the gulf stream pursues its way, climates are not liable to undergo any decided change.
Amidst the shadings and shinings of slavery were two instances in Alabama history that are worthy of record. During the regime of slavery, provision was made in the churches of the whites for the accommodation of the slaves, in the larger churches by spacious galleries, and in the smaller ones, by rear seats. The latter custom prevailed, for the most part, in the rural churches.
Among the different denominations, the Baptists and Methodists were foremost in the provision of the means of the evangelization of the slaves. These two denominations made each year appointments of white missionaries to the blacks on the plantations, and on the services held under such conditions, both the whites and blacks would attend. Provision was made for membership of the slaves in the churches of the whites, where they enjoyed the same privileges in common, being received into membership in the same way, baptized, as were the others, and sharing in the communion alike. When the slaves were freed, they were encouraged to found their own churches and other institutions, the friendly whites aiding them in every way possible.
So far back as 1828, before the agitation of the slavery question began in earnest, in the press, the schools, and in the congress of the United States, much attention was given to the christianization of the slaves. This spirit was somewhat later checked by the establishment of the underground railroad, and by other methods clandestinely employed bythe abolitionists to liberate the southern slaves. These secret methods called into exercise counter means as those of circumvention. Among these last mentioned was that of the legal imposition of a penalty on anyone who would teach a slave to read or to write, which law was generally enacted in the slave states, and the other was that of the fugitive slave law, which was enacted September 18, 1850.
Between the legislative bodies and the Christian denominations there was no apparent conflict, and yet those interested in the evangelization of the slaves recognized the necessity of intelligence in order to appreciate the gospel. The practical result was that the legislature would enact its laws and the churches would pursue their own courses in their own ways. In the Alabama Baptist Association a step was taken, in 1828, that reveals one of the bright sides of slavery. At that time the Alabama association embraced a number of counties in the heart of the “black belt,” where were many of the largest slave owners of the state.
Within the territory of that association was a remarkable negro named Caesar, who belonged to John R. Blackwell. This slave showed not only remarkable ability as a preacher, but possessed a rare character which was highly esteemed by the whites. The missionary to the slaves at that time was Rev. James McLemore, on whom Caesar won rapidly, and he often took the slave preacher with him on his tours, and not infrequently had him to preach in his stead. Mr. McLemore called the attention of the association to the worth of this man, and proposed that he be bought from his master, given hisfreedom, and be employed as a missionary to the slaves on the plantations. This was accordingly done, through a committee of the body, and the sum of $625 was paid for Caesar out of the treasury of the association, and the remainder of the life of Caesar was given exclusively to preaching as a free man. Exceedingly black as Caesar was, he was gladly listened to by white auditors, as he would go here and there about the country on his missionary tours.
In another instance, the Alabama state convention sought to purchase a gifted slave for the same purpose. There belonged to John Phillips, of Cotton Valley, Macon County, a slave whose name was Dock, a large, muscular and valuable man, who was a blacksmith on his master’s plantation. He and his master had been reared together, and were much devoted to each other. In his younger days, Dock had been taught to read and to write by his young master, who came at last to inherit him from his father’s estate. Mr. Phillips continued to teach Dock, who became a preacher of note among his people, and who was widely esteemed by the whites because of his Christian worth, wise influence on the slaves, and because, too, of his gift as a preacher. He attracted the attention of some of the prominent members of the convention, and the proposal was made to purchase his freedom, and to send him forth as a missionary among the blacks. An influential committee was appointed, one of which number was the late Dr. Samuel Henderson, and in due time, the committee visited the master with the view of negotiating the purchase.
When the matter was submitted to the master hereplied that he did not wish to prevent the greatest good being done among the slaves, and admitted that Dock was a tower of strength with his people, but added that he regarded Dock indispensable to his plantation, because he was his chief “driver,” and his only reliable blacksmith. After much discussion, the master consented to leave the matter for settlement to Dock himself. Accordingly he and the committee of distinguished preachers repaired to the blacksmith shop, called Dock out, who was wearing his long leather apron, and had his sleeves rolled to his shoulders, while his face was begrimed with smoke and soot. Mr. Phillips remained silent, and allowed the preachers and Dock to negotiate concerning his purchase and consequent freedom.
Dock listened in silence while they proceeded to show him the advantages which would accrue to him, in consequence of his freedom and the exercise of his gifts as a preacher. When the committee had ended, Dock asked his friend and master what he had to say to a proposal so novel, and the master told him that it was left to him to decide. The blacksmith then said: “Marse John, we were raised together, and have always been like brothers. You give me all the freedom I want. You let me have a horse to ride when I want it, and there has never been a word between us. No greater kindness could I have, if I were free, but if you want to sell me, I will go, not because I want to, but because you want to get rid of me. Of course, I belong to you, and if you leave it to me, I’m going to stay with you till one or the other of us dies.” “That settlesit, gentlemen,” said the master, and turning to Dock, he said, “You may go back to your work.” Dock lived many years, was a slave preacher of power, but was never free. There is much of the inner history of the South of which the world knows nothing.
For the camp meeting, so long a popular institution in the South, we are indebted to the people called Methodists. The originator of the camp meeting seems to have been Lorenzo Dow, who adopted this as a popular method of reaching the people of England in the earliest years of the nineteenth century. It was so successful that the early Methodists adopted it with much advantage in the new and growing states of America. Others partly adopted this method, but none could ever equal the success of the Methodists in its conduct. It remained a popular institution till the beginning of the Civil War.
Unique in many respects, the camp meeting rapidly won in popular favor. Though religious, the camp meeting had the inviting side of an outing and the dash of the picnic together, with the abandon attendant on a season of religious worship in the woods. Its lack of restraint of formality and conventionality, such as pertained to church worship, gave it a peculiar tang of popularity. In the camp meeting there was a oneness of spirit, with the total obliteration of favoritism where people could worship without the fear of trenching on the rules of stilted propriety, and without having to conform to style or aught else, but common sense propriety. The preacher could preach as long as he might wish, and the people could sing and shout without limit. The fresh, open air, the tented grounds, social contact, and freedom of worship were the chief elements of an old-time camp meeting. Certain pointsthroughout the South became famous as camp grounds, and remained so for full fifty years or more. That the camp meeting was an occasion of vast good, no one familiar with it would deny. To old and young alike it was always one of the prospective focal points of genuine enjoyment. There was the zest of novelty of living apart a week or ten days from the noisy world, in the midst of the most congenial association. The approach of the season for the camp meeting spurred the farmer to the time of “laying by” his crop, and excited the diligence of the good housewife in hoarding eggs, butter and honey and of fattening the turkeys and chickens, all for “the coming camp meeting.” Nor did the idea of denominationalism ever enter the minds of the people. While it was a Methodist institution, those of other denominations shared with equal interest in its promotion and success. The recreation afforded was of the most wholesome type physically, mentally, socially, and spiritually.
A level tract of land in close proximity to a large spring of water was usually selected, cleared of its undergrowth and fallen timbers, in the midst of a populous region, and with surroundings of abundance in order to provide against any emergency respecting man or beast. The grounds were generally laid out in regular order after the fashion of a camp, and any who might wish to do so were invited to pitch their tents, and share in the general enjoyment of the occasion. The only restriction imposed were those of good order and the observance of decent propriety about one’s tent. Disorder of no kind was tolerated, and if discovered, waspromptly removed. There were no rigid rules, the law being that of common sense based on decency and propriety.
The camp meeting was held at an annually stated time, and by the Christian community was looked forward to with a sense of delight that must have been akin to that of the ancient Israelites in their annual pilgrimages to Jerusalem. For at least a week in advance of the beginning of the meeting, there were those who were active in getting the grounds into condition for the coming event, while those who were to tent on the grounds were engaged in storing supplies and arranging for the comfort of the occupants of the tents and cottages erected about the grounds. The tents were thickly sown down with oat or wheat straw, and partitioned with curtains, in accommodation to the different sexes.
The chief building on the grounds was the place of worship, or the tabernacle. This was usually a pavilion with permanent roof and seats and deeply overstrewn with straw. Sometimes it was an immense tent which was erected each year. The worship began with a sunrise prayer meeting, to which the audience was summoned, as it was to all occasions of worship, by the blowing of a large cow horn. Four services a day were held, one at sunrise, another at midday, a third in the afternoon, and another at night. No limitation of time was imposed on the services. They were as liable to last four or five hours, as one. The matter was settled by the interest, and not by the watch. Often after midnight the services were still in progress.
Near the center of the grounds was what was called the fire-stand, which was a small platform four or five feet square, covered deeply in sand, on which a fire was kept blazing by means of light-wood during the entire night. This platform was supported by four strong supports, and the resinous flame would irradiate all the grounds and surrounding forest. About the camp, were the stalls for the stock, and the braying mules and neighing horses served to remind one of the domestic conditions of the camp.
These occasions were gala ones to the young folk who were seen perched in buggies about the grounds discussing themes that “dissolve in air away,” while more serious subjects were being conned under the roof of the tabernacle. No class more gladly hailed the camp meeting than the old-time, thrifty slave, who appeared on the scene with crude articles for sale. The old black mammy was present with her coil of flaring bandana about her head, and wearing her snowy apron, while she sold her long ginger cakes, while the old uncle dispensed from an earthen jug good “simmon beer,” or corn beer, while others were venders of watermelons and sugar cane.
Other organizations more formal and formidable have come to take the place of the old time camp meeting, but it is doubtful that they accomplish the same beneficent results. The camp meeting was a social cement which blended most beautifully with that which was spiritual in a wide region, and in its discontinuance there is occasioned a gap which nothing has come to fill.
Rev. Dr. I. T. Tichenor, who was for many years pastor of the First Baptist Church of Montgomery, later the president of the Polytechnic Institute at Auburn, and still later corresponding secretary of the Home Mission of the Southern Baptist Convention, relates the following story of cruelty as connected with his pastorate at Montgomery. It was the habit of Dr. Tichenor to preach to the slaves of Montgomery, every Sunday afternoon, during his long pastorate in that city.
Among the many hundred slaves who came to the service was a large, muscular, yellow man, well advanced in years, whose infirmity was supported by a large hickory stick, the peculiar thump of which always signalized the coming of this old man into the church. The pastor was sympathetically attracted to the old man because of his devotion, marked silence, and physical infirmity. This particular slave rarely smiled, and when the pastor would call on him to pray, which he sometimes did, Jesse Goldthwaite, the crippled slave, would respond with a fervency rarely heard.
When the emancipation of the slaves came as a result of the close of the war, there was much jubilation, but it seemed not to affect Jesse Goldthwaite. Conscious that his end was near, freedom could be of but slight benefit to him. The distinguished white pastor noticed that the old man was not the least cheerful, in the midst of the wild demonstrations of racial joy, and the shadow of the sorrow underwhich the aged slave lived never disappeared. After the slaves had been free for some time, Jesse came one day during the week into the study of Dr. Tichenor, and addressing him as “master,” as he was in the habit of doing, wished to know if he would be good enough to write some letters for him.
Dr. Tichenor assured him that it would be a pleasure to serve him. With difficulty the old ex-slave took a seat that was offered him, and leaning on his big stick began by saying that when he was stolen from his home in Maryland, his father, mother, three brothers and a sister were then living in a thrifty village in that state, the name of which village was given. But this was just fifty-two years before. Jesse indulged the hope that some of them still lived, though he had not heard from them since he was kidnaped at the age of eighteen.
Never having heard his story, Dr. Tichenor encouraged him to give it. Jesse’s father and his family were free. The family lived on the outskirts of a Maryland village where the father owned a good home and a small farm. Having occasion to send Jesse on an errand to the shores of the Chesapeake, the stalwart youth of eighteen, muscular, large, active and bright, was seized by some slave traders, and forcibly taken on board a small vessel and carried to Richmond, where in the slave market he was sold on the block. He protested that he was free, and was forcibly brought hither, but no attention was given to his defense. From Virginia he was brought to Montgomery, and bought by the Goldthwaites, in which family he had been for more than fifty years. On being sold at Montgomery he againprotested, but was answered by the statement that he had been bought in good faith, and the fault was not that of his present owners. This, he said, destroyed all hope, and he knew that he was doomed to a life of slavery, from which condition there was no possible appeal. This made him desperate, and he resolved on a course of perpetual rebellion. His mistress sympathized with him in his condition, after she learned his story, and sought to show him every possible kindness, but his refractory disposition brought him under the stern discipline of his master, who sought to subdue him at any cost. While he was forced to succumb, he was not reconciled to his fate, and resisted in every way possible. He was notorious as a thief, liar, and profane swearer, and in his desperation he resolved to drown his troubles in drunkenness. Exposure on cold nights, while drunk, induced the rheumatism and impaired his sight almost to blindness.
The years wore wearily on, and when he was brought under the influence of the preaching of Dr. Tichenor, Jesse became a Christian, and thenceforth he sought to lead a subdued and submissive life, but his frame was now a wreck. Advancing age had bent his form, and it was with difficulty that he could see. While submissive, Jesse was never cheerful, but lived under the burden of a wrong enforced, from which there was no possible deliverance. Now, at the age of seventy-two, he came to Dr. Tichenor to request that he write to Maryland, and if possible, to learn whether any of his relatives, who never knew of his fate, were still surviving. Letters were written, one to the postmaster ofthe village, and to others known personally to Dr. Tichenor, at Baltimore, and elsewhere.
For several weeks the old man would trudge with difficulty to the pastor’s study to learn of the result of the letters, but no favorable answer came. In order to cheer the old man, and to prolong hope, Dr. Tichenor would write to yet others, but nothing could be learned of the whereabouts of any of those sought by Jesse Goldthwaite. The aged ex-slave would leave the presence of the pastor with a heavy groan each time, and express the hope that when he should come the next time he might be able to learn of his loved ones of the long ago. Finally the old man ceased to come. It was thought that continued discouragement had checked his visits, but when Dr. Tichenor sought to learn of the strange absence of Jesse, he ascertained that he had been dead for weeks. In a negro cabin he had died in Montgomery, and had been quietly buried by his own people in the pauper graveyard.
In the annals of the horrors of slavery no story can perhaps excel that of the doom of Jesse Goldthwaite. Born a free man, and stolen in the prime of his robust youthhood, manacled and sold into slavery, he lived more than a half century in this condition, and when he died, he was buried in a grave of poverty.
In the fork of the Alabama and Tombigbee Rivers, about fifty miles above Mobile, is said to be a lake, beautiful and clear, which is called Hal’s Lake. The name is derived from an incident that occurred in the days of slavery. A runaway slave from a Mississippi plantation found refuge and secretion in this dismal resort, and hither he lured other slaves, all of whom lived in the region of the lake for an unknown time.
Having run away from a plantation in Mississippi, Hal, a stalwart slave, made his way across the Tombigbee, and on reaching the swamp of big cane, tangled underbrush and large trees, he found his way into it with great difficulty, where he discovered that the bears of the swamp had regular paths, the tall canes on the sides of which being worn smooth by their fur. For a day or two the runaway subsisted on the wild fruits of the swamp, but on exploring further toward the north, he found that there were plantations on the opposite side of the Alabama River, and by means of the use of a piece of wood to support him in swimming across, he made his way, a hungry man, to a plantation at night, where he told his story and procured food.
Hal soon became an expert forager, as was indicated by the loss of an occasional pig, lamb, goat, or turkey from the plantation. Not content with his own freedom, he determined to bring his family to this swampy retreat. Making his way back to his distant home, he succeeded at night in mounting hisfamily on two or three choice horses, and being familiar with the country in that region, he chose to travel during the first night along plantation paths, and the next morning after leaving the home, he and his were fully thirty miles away. The horses were turned loose, and the remainder of the journey was pursued at night, while the fleeing slaves would sleep during the day. When the Tombigbee was reached, he succeeded in conveying his family over by lashing some logs together. After a perilous passage, they finally reached the swamp, and set about providing a temporary home on the lake, by constructing a booth of canes and saplings, covering it with bark.
In his trips to the neighboring plantations across the river for necessaries, Hal induced other slaves to join him in his safe retreat. After a time, he had a colony in a quarter where white men had never gone, and on the shores of the lake chickens crew, turkeys gobbled, with the mingled notes of the squealing of pigs and the bleating of goats.
Hal was the sovereign of the tiny commonwealth, and in due course of time he found it unnecessary himself to go on foraging expeditions, and would send others. Still the population of the colony grew, as an occasional runaway slave would be induced to join it. In those days of “underground railroads,” the continued absence of a slave from a plantation would be taken to mean that he had fled by some of the numerous means of escape, and after a period, search for the missing would be given up. Not only was there a mysterious disappearance of slaves, but that of pigs, chickens, sheep and otherdomestic animals, as well. The secret of this slave haunt was well preserved, and the news of its security became an inducement to a large number of slaves, some from a considerable distance, to join Hal’s colony beside the lake.
Not only was Hal autocratic in his immured fastness between the rivers and in the jungle of cane, but he became tyrannical, which in turn, provoked revolt. A burly slave refused to obey his dictation, and Hal straightway expelled him from the colony, and exiled him. Bent on revenge, the exile made his way back to his master, surrendered and told the story fatal to Hal’s colony. The mysteries of several years were thus cleared up to planters along the rivers. The exile became the guide to the retreat where was ensconced the slave colony, and with packs of dogs and guns, the stronghold was surrounded and the slaves captured. But slight resistance to the dogs was offered, and the submissive black men and their families were conveyed across the river, the ownership of each ascertained, and each was sent, under guard, to his owner. As for Hal and his family, the sheriff notified the owner on the distant Mississippi plantation of their capture, and he came, in due time, proved his chattels, and they were taken back to their original home.
How long they might have remained in this secure retreat, but for the intolerance of the original leader, it is impossible to say. Hal was not unlike many another with advantages vastly above his—power made him top-heavy, and soft seductions were turned into tyranny, all of which reminds us of the comment of Artemus Ward on the conductof the Puritans of New England. Artemus said: “They came to this country to worship God according to their own consciences, and to keep other people from worshipin’ Him accordin’ to their’n.”
The capture of Hal and of his party led to the discovery of this phenomenal body of clear water in that interior retreat not only, but to the discovery of bears, which fact made it the hunting ground for big game for many years. It is said that much big game is still to be found in that region between the two great rivers.
How much of truth there is in the details of this story which comes to us from the old slave days, none can tell, but it reveals to us one of the features of slave life. That the story has its foundation in fact, there seems to be no doubt, and it still lingers as a tradition in that quarter of the state.
Transcriber’s Note:
Text onpage 530is misprinted in the original. This error is presented in this version as it is in the original.
Gen. William Henry Harrison having resigned as major general in the regular army was disbanded, and the troops returned home. him.