Large importations of indigo soon came to England from the East Indies, which lowered the price, and the palmy days of indigo for South Carolina were gone forever.
As its value declined, other crops took its place. Rice superseded indigo in the coast districts. In North Carolina, where indigo had been extensively raised also, tobacco became the principal export, and was used as a medium of exchange, as indigo had formerly been. But the climax of decline was reached in 1794, when a certain Yankee schoolmaster of Georgia, named Eli Whitney, brought to perfection the saw gin, which relieved the necessity of tedious manual operations in the cleaning of cotton. The value of cotton and of negro labor to cultivate it became suddenly very great. So the reign of indigo passed away; cotton became king, and a new industrial era dawned, leading to tremendous historical consequences in the State and nation.
But although indigo was no longer a staple or article of export, yet during the early part of the nineteenth century it was still produced in small amounts for domestic use. In his Random Recollections of a Long Life, published in 1876, Mr. Edwin J. Scott tells us of the process as he saw it carried on in his boyhood. The plants were immersed in water and the coloring matter extracted. This was allowed to sink by its own weight to the bottom of the vat, when the water was drawn off and the sediment left to harden. He continues: "When broken, the cleavage in good indigo was smooth, and showed a copper-colored tinge. The recipe of a traditional old lady of South Carolina for judging of the quality of indigo is said to have been as follows: 'Take a clean new cedar or cypress piggin; fill it three thirds full with clean spring water; put into it a lump of indigo as big as an egg and if good it will sink or swim, I have forgotten which!'"
But simple as the process sounds in the descriptions of Mr. Scott, the indigo industry was one which involved much risk, and required great skill and untiring attention day and night. Through the whole of the "making season" a periodical change of hands was kept up, except in the case of the "indigo-maker," who, we are told, "could no more leave his post than the captain of a ship on a lee shore."
In his Reminiscences of St. Stephen's Parish,[1] Mr. Du Bose says: "I have often heard it said that during the manufacturing season Mr. Peter Sinkler [Mr. Du Bose's grandfather, who was an indigo-maker of high reputation] would be three weeks without seeing his wife, though he slept at home every night. He would come home late, when she was asleep, and return to his professional labors before she awoke in the morning."
- ↑ Du Bose's Reminiscences of St. Stephen's Parish, printed in 1852.
