of the upper classes, and their only means of consolation is in having a class below them, whom they may scorn in turn. To set the negro at liberty would deprive them of this last comfort; and accordingly no class of men advocate slavery with such frantic and unreasoning violence, or hate abolitionists with such demoniac hatred. Let the reader conceive of a mob of men as brutal and callous as the two white witnesses of the Souther tragedy, led on by men like Souther himself, and he will have some idea of the material which occur in the worst kind of Southern mobs.
The leaders of the community, those men who play on other men with as little care for them as a harper plays on a harp, keep this blind, furious monster of the mob, very much as an overseer keeps plantation-dogs, as creatures to be set on to any man or thing whom they may choose to have put down.
These leading men have used the cry of "abolitionism" over the mob, much as a huntsman uses the "set on" to his dogs. Whenever they have a purpose to carry, a man to put down, they, have only to raise this cry, and the monster is wide awake, ready to spring wherever they shall send him. Does a minister raise his voice in favor of the slave?—Immediately, with a whoop and hurra, some editor starts the mob on him, as an abolitionist. Is there a man teaching his negroes to read?—The mob is started upon him—he must promise to give it up, or leave the state. Does a man at a public hotel-table express his approbation of some anti-slavery work?—Up come the police, and arrest him for seditious language;[1] and on the heels of the police, thronging round the justice's office, come the ever-ready mob,—men with clubs and bowie-knives, swearing that they will have his heart's blood. The more respectable citizens in vain try to compose them: it is quite as hopeful to reason with a pack of hounds, and the only way is to smuggle the suspected person out of the state as quickly as possible. All these are scenes of common occurrence at the South. Every Southern man knows them to be so, and they know, too, the reason why they are so; but, so much do they fear the monster, that they dare not say what they know.
This brute monster sometimes gets beyond the power of his masters, and then results ensue most mortifying to the patriotism of honorable Southern men, but which they are powerless to prevent. Such was the case when the Honorable Senator Hoar, of Massachusetts, with his daughter, visited the city of Charleston. The senator was appointed by the sovereign State of Massachusetts to inquire into the conditions of her free colored citizens detained in South Carolina prisons. We cannot suppose that men of honor and education, in South Carolina, can contemplate without chagrin the fact that this honorable gentleman, the representative of a sister state, and accompanied by his daughter, was obliged to flee from South Carolina, because they were told that the constituted authorities would not be powerful enough to protect them from the ferocities of a mob. This is not the only case in which this mob has escaped from the hands its guiders, and produced mortifying results. The scenes of Vicksburg, and the succession of popular whirlwinds which at that time flew over the south-western states, have been forcibly painted by the author of "The White Slave."
They who find these popular outbreaks useful when they serve their own turns are sometimes forcibly reminded of the consequences
"Of letting rapine loose, and murder,
To go just so far, and no further;
And setting all the land on fire
To burn just so high, and no higher."
The statements made above can be substantiated by various documents,—mostly by the testimony of residents in slave states, and by extracts from their newspapers.
Concerning the class of poor whites, Mr. William Gregg, of Charleston, South Carolina, in a pamphlet, called "Essays On Domestic Industry, or an Inquiry into the expediency of establishing Cotton Manufactories in South Carolina, 1845," says, p. 22:
Shall we pass unnoticed the thousands of poor, ignorant, degraded white people among us, who, in this land of plenty, live in comparative nakedness and starvation? Many a one is reared in proud South Carolina, from birth to manhood, who has never passed a month in which he has not some part of the time, been stinted for meat. Many a mother is there who will tell you that her children are but scantily provided with bread, and much more scantily with meat; and, if they be clad with comfortable raiment, it is at the expense of these scanty allowances of food. These may be startling statements, but they are nevertheless true; and if not believed in Charleston, the members of our legislature who have traversed the state in electioneering campaigns can attest their truth."
The Rev. Henry Duffner, D.D., President of Lexington College, Va., himself a
- ↑ The writer is describing here a scone of recent occurrence in a slave state, of whose particulars she has the best means of knowledge. The work in question was "Uncle Tom's Cabin."
