Chapter XIV: The Spirit of St. Clare

The general tone of the press and of the community in the slave states, so far as it has been made known at the North, has been loudly condemnatory of the representations of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” Still, it would be unjust to the character of the South to refuse to acknowledge that she has many sons with candor enough to perceive, and courage enough to avow, the evils of her “peculiar institutions.” The manly independence exhibited by these men, in communities where popular sentiment rules despotically, either by law or in spite of law, should be duly honored. The sympathy of such minds as these is a high encouragement to philanthropic effort.

The author inserts a few testimonials from Southern men, not without some pride in being thus kindly judged by those who might have been naturally expected to read her book with prejudice against it.

The _Jefferson Inquirer_, published at Jefferson City, Missouri, Oct. 23, 1852, contains the following communication:

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.

I have lately read this celebrated book, which, perhaps, has gone
through more editions, and been sold in greater numbers, than any
work from the American press, in the same length of time. It is a
work of high literary finish, and its several characters are drawn
with great power and truthfulness, although, like the characters in
most novels and works of fiction, in some instances too highly
colored. There is no attack on slave-holders as such, but, on the
contrary, many of them are represented as highly noble, generous,
humane and benevolent. Nor is there any attack upon them as a class.
It sets forth many of the evils of slavery, as _an institution
established by law_, but without charging these evils on those who
hold the slaves, and seems fully to appreciate the difficulties in
finding a remedy. Its effect upon the slave-holder is to make him a
kinder and better master; to which none can object. This is said
without any intention to endorse everything contained in the book,
or, indeed, in any novel, or work of fiction. But, if I mistake not,
there are few, excepting those who are greatly prejudiced, that will
rise from a perusal of the book without being a truer and better
Christian, and a more humane and benevolent man. As a slave-holder,
I do not feel the least aggrieved. How Mrs. Stowe, the authoress,
has obtained her extremely accurate knowledge of the negroes, their
character, dialect, habits, &c., is beyond my comprehension, as she
never resided—as appears from the preface—in a slave state, or among
slaves or negroes. But they are certainly admirably delineated. The
book is highly interesting and amusing, and will afford a rich treat
to its reader.

THOMAS JEFFERSON.

The opinion of the editor himself is given in these words:

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.

Well, like a good portion of “the world and the rest of mankind,” we
have read the book of Mrs. Stowe bearing the above title.

From numerous statements, newspaper paragraphs and rumors, we
supposed the book was all that fanaticism and heresy could invent,
and were therefore greatly prejudiced against it. But, on reading
it, we cannot refrain from saying that it is a work of more than
ordinary moral worth, and is entitled to consideration. We do not
regard it as “a corruption of moral sentiment,” and a gross “libel
on a portion of our people.” The authoress seems disposed to treat
the subject fairly, though, in some particulars, the scenes are too
highly colored, and too strongly drawn from the imagination. The
book, however, may lead its readers at a distance to misapprehend
some of the general and better features of “Southern life as it is”
(which, by the way, we, as an individual, prefer to Northern life);
yet it is a perfect mirror of several classes of people “we have in
our mind’s eye, who are not free from all the ills flesh is heir
to.” It has been feared that the book would result in injury to the
slave-holding interests of the country; but we apprehend no such
thing, and hesitate not to recommend it to the perusal of our
friends and the public generally.

Mrs. Stowe has exhibited a knowledge of many peculiarities of
Southern society which is really wonderful, when we consider that
she is a Northern lady by birth and residence.

We hope, then, before our friends form any harsh opinions of the
merits of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and make up any judgment against us
for pronouncing in its favor (barring some objections to it), that
they will give it a careful perusal; and, in so speaking, we may say
that we yield to no man in his devotion to Southern rights and
interests.

The editor of the _St. Louis_ (Missouri) _Battery_ pronounces the following judgment:

We took up this work, a few evenings since, with just such
prejudices against it as we presume many others have commenced
reading it. We have been so much in contact with ultra
abolitionists,—have had so much evidence that their benevolence was
much more hatred for the master than love for the slave, accompanied
with a profound ignorance of the circumstances surrounding both, and
a most consummate, supreme disgust for the whole negro race,—that we
had about concluded that anything but rant and nonsense was out of
the question from a Northern writer upon the subject of slavery.

Mrs. Stowe, in these delineations of life among the lowly, has
convinced us to the contrary.

She brings to the discussion of her subject a perfectly cool,
calculating judgment, a wide, all-comprehending intellectual vision,
and a deep, warm, sea-like woman’s soul, over all of which is flung
a perfect iris-like imagination, which makes the light of her
pictures stronger and more beautiful, as their shades are darker and
terror-striking.

We do not wonder that the copy before us is of the seventieth
thousand. And seventy thousand more will not supply the demand, or
we mistake the appreciation of the American people of the real
merits of literary productions. Mrs. Stowe has, in “Uncle Tom’s
Cabin,” set up for herself a monument more enduring than marble. It
will stand amid the wastes of slavery as the Memnon stands amid the
sands of the African desert, telling both the white man and the
negro of the approach of morning. The book is not an abolitionist
work, in the offensive sense of the word. It is, as we have
intimated, free from everything like fanaticism, no matter what
amount of enthusiasm vivifies every page, and runs like electricity
along every thread of the story. It presents at one view the
excellences and the evils of the system of slavery, and breathes the
true spirit of Christian benevolence for the slave, and charity for
the master.

The next witness gives his testimony in a letter to the _New York Evening Post_:

LIGHT IN THE SOUTH.

The subjoined communication comes to us postmarked New Orleans, June
19, 1852:

“I have just been reading ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin, or, Scenes in Lowly
Life,’ by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. It found its way to me through
the channel of a young student, who purchased it at the North, to
read on his homeward passage to New Orleans. He was entirely
unacquainted with its character; he was attracted by its title,
supposing it might amuse him while travelling. Through his family it
was shown to me, as something that I would probably like. I looked
at the author’s name, and said, ‘O, yes; anything from that lady I
will read;’ otherwise I should have disregarded a work of fiction
without such a title.

“The remarks from persons present were, that it was a most amusing
work, and the scenes most admirably drawn to life. I accepted the
offer of a perusal of it, and brought it home with me. Although I
have not read every sentence, I have looked over the whole of it,
and I now wish to bear my testimony to its just delineation of the
position that the slave occupies. Colorings in the work there are,
but no colorings of the actual and real position of the slave worse
than really exist. Whippings to death do occur; I know it to be so.
Painful separations of master and slave, under circumstances
creditable to the master’s feelings of humanity, do also occur. I
know that, too. Many families, after having brought up their
children in entire dependence on slaves to do everything for them,
and after having been indulged in elegances and luxuries, have
exhausted all their means; and the black people only being left,
whom they must sell, for further support. Running away, everybody
knows, is the worst crime a slave can commit, in the eyes of his
master, except it be a humane master; and from such few slaves care
to run away.

“I am a slave-holder myself. I have long been dissatisfied with the
system; particularly since I have made the Bible my criterion for
judging of it. I am convinced, from what I read there, slavery is
not in accordance with what God delights to honor in his creatures.
I am altogether opposed to the system; and I intend always to use
whatever influence I may have against it. I feel very bold in
speaking against it, though living in the midst of it, because I am
backed by a powerful arm, that can overturn and overrule the
strongest efforts that the determined friends of slavery are now
making for its continuance.

“I sincerely hope that more of Mrs. Stowes may be found, to show up
the reality of slavery. It needs master minds to show it as it is,
that it may rest upon its own merits.

“Like Mrs. Stowe, I feel that, since so many and good people, too,
at the North, have quietly consented to leave the slave to his fate,
by acquiescing in and approving the late measures of government,
those who do feel differently should bestir themselves. Christian
effort must do the work; and soon it would be done, if Christians
would unite, not to destroy the Union states, but honestly to speak
out, and speak freely, against that they know is wrong. They are not
aware what countenance they give to slave-holders to hold on to
their prey. Troubled consciences can be easily quieted by the
sympathies of pious people, particularly when interest and
inclination come in as aids.

“I am told there is to be a reply made to ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin,’
entitled ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin as It Is.’ I am glad of it.
Investigation is what is wanted.

“You will wonder why this communication is made to you by an
unknown. It is simply made to encourage your heart, and strengthen
your determination to persevere, and do all you can to put the
emancipation of the slave in progress. Who I am you will never know;
nor do I wish you to know, nor any one else. I am a

“REPUBLICAN.”

The following facts make the fiction of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” appear tame in the comparison. They are from the _New York Evangelist_.

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.

MR. EDITOR: I see in your paper that some persons deny the
statements of Mrs. Stowe. I have read her book, _every word of it_.
I was born in East Tennessee, near Knoxville, and, _we thought_, in
an enlightened part of the Union, much favored in our social,
political and religious privileges, &c. &c. Well, I think about the
year 1829, or, perhaps, ‘28, a good old German Methodist owned a
black man named Robin, a Methodist preacher, and the manager of
farm, distillery, &c., salesman and financier. This good old German
Methodist had a son named Willey, a schoolmate of mine, and, as
times were, a first-rate fellow. The old man also owned a keen,
bright-eyed mulatto girl; and Willey—the naughty boy!—became
enamored of the poor girl. The result was soon discovered; and our
good German Methodist told his brother Robin to flog the girl for
her wickedness. Brother Robin said he could not and would not
perform such an act of cruelty as to flog the girl for what she
could not help; and for that act of disobedience old Robin was
flogged by the good old German brother, until he could not stand. He
was carried to bed; and, some three weeks thereafter, when my father
left the state, he was still confined to his bed from the effects of
that flogging.

Again: in the fall of 1836 I went South, for my health, stopped at a
village in Mississippi, and obtained employment in the largest house
in the county, as a book-keeper, with a firm from Louisville, Ky. A
man residing near the village—a bachelor, thirty years of age—became
embarrassed, and executed a mortgage to my employer on a fine,
likely boy, weighing about two hundred pounds,—quick-witted, active,
obedient, and remarkably faithful, trusty and honest; so much so,
that he was held up as an example. He had a wife that he loved. His
owner cast his eyes upon her, and she became his paramour. His boy
remonstrated with his master; told him that he tried faithfully to
perform his every duly; that he was a good and faithful “nigger” to
him; and it was hard, after he had toiled hard all day, and till ten
o’clock at night, for him to have his domestic relations broken up
and interfered with. The white man denied the charge, and the wife
also denied it. One night, about the first of September, the boy
came home earlier than usual, say about nine o’clock. It was a wet,
dismal night; he made a fire in his cabin, went to get his supper,
and found ocular demonstration of the guilt of his master. He became
enraged, as I suppose any man would, seized a butcher-knife, and cut
his master’s throat, stabbed his wife in twenty-seven places, came
to the village, and knocked at the office-door. I told him to come
in. He did so, and asked for my employer. I called him. The boy then
told him that he had killed his master and his wife, and what for.
My employer locked him up, and he, a doctor and myself, went out to
the house of the old bachelor, and found him dead, and the boy’s
wife nearly so. She, however, lived. We (my employer and myself)
returned to the village, watched the boy until about sunrise, left
him locked up, and went to get our breakfasts, intending to take the
boy to jail (as it was my employer’s interest, if possible, to save
the boy, having one thousand dollars at stake in him). But, whilst
we were eating, some persons who had heard of the murder broke open
the door, took the poor fellow, put a log chain round his neck, and
started him for the woods, at the point of the bayonet, marching by
where we were eating, with a great deal of noise. My employer,
hearing it, ran out, and rescued the boy. The mob again broke in and
took the boy, and marched him, as before stated, out of town.

My employer then begged them not to disgrace their town in such a
manner; but to appoint a jury of twelve sober men, to decide what
should be done. And twelve as _sober_ men as could be found (I was
not sober) said he must be hanged. They then tied a rope round his
neck, and set him on an old horse. He made a speech to the mob,
which I, at the time, thought if it had come from some senator,
would have been received with rounds of applause; and, withal, he
was more calm than I am now, in writing this. And, after he had told
all about the deed, and its cause, he then kicked the horse out from
under him, and was launched into eternity. My employer has often
remarked that he never saw anything more noble, in his whole life,
than the conduct of that boy.

Now, Mr. Editor, I have given you facts, and can give you names and
dates. You can do what you think is best for the cause of humanity.
I hope I have seen the evil of my former practices, and will
endeavor to reform.

Very respectfully,
JAMES L. HILL.

_Springfield, Ill., Sept. 17th, 1852._

“The Opinion of a Southerner,” given below, appeared in the _National Era_, published at Washington. This is an anti-slavery journal, but by its generous tone and eminent ability it commands the respect and patronage of many readers in the slave states:

The following communication comes enclosed in an envelope from
Louisiana.—_Ed. Era._

THE OPINION OF A SOUTHERNER.

_To the Editor of the National Era_:

I have just been reading, in the _New York Observer_ of the 12th of
August, an article from the _Southern Free Press_, headed by an
editorial one from the _Observer_, that has for its caption,
“_Progress in the Right Quarter_.”

The editor of the _New York Observer_ says that the _Southern Free
Press_ has been an able and earnest defender of Southern
institutions; but that he now advocates the passage of a law to
prohibit the separation of families, and recommends instruction to a
portion of slaves that are most honest and faithful. The _Observer_
further adds: “It was such language as this that was becoming
common, before Northern fanaticism ruined the prospects of
emancipation.” It is not so! Northern fanaticism, as he calls it,
has done everything that has been done for bettering the condition
of the slave. Every one who knows anything of slavery for the last
thirty years will recollect that about that time since, the
condition of the slave in Louisiana—for about Louisiana only do I
speak, because about Louisiana only do I know—was as depressed and
miserable as any of the accounts of the abolitionists that ever I
have seen have made it. I say abolitionists; I mean friends and
advocates of freedom, in a fair and honorable way. If any doubt my
assertion, let them seek for information. Let them get the black
laws of Louisiana, and read them. Let them get facts from
individuals of veracity, on whose statements they would rely.

This wretched condition of slaves roused the friends of humanity,
who, like men, and Christian men, came fearlessly forward, and told
truths, indignantly expressing their abhorrence of their oppressors.
Such measures, of course, brought forth strife, which caused the
cries of humanity to sound louder and louder throughout the land.
The friends of freedom gained the ascendency in the hearts of the
people, and the slave-holders were brought to a stand. Some, through
fear of consequences, lessened their cruelties, while others were
made to think, that, perhaps, were not unwilling to do so when it
was urged upon them. Cruelties were not only refrained from, but the
slave’s comforts were increased. A retrograde treatment now was not
practicable. Fears of rebellion kept them to it. The slave had found
friends, and they were watchful. It was, however, soon discovered
that too many privileges, too much leniency, and giving knowledge,
would destroy the power to keep down the slave, and tend to weaken,
if not destroy, the system. Accordingly, stringent laws had to be
passed, and a penalty attached to them. No one must teach, or cause
to be taught, a slave, without incurring the penalty. The law is now
in force. These necessary laws, as they are called, are all put down
to the account of the friends of freedom—to their interference. I do
suppose that they do justly belong to their interference; for who
that studies the history of the world’s transactions does not know
that in all contests with power the weak, until successful, will be
dealt with more rigorously? Lose not sight, however, of their former
condition. Law after law has since been passed to draw the cord
tighter around the poor slave, and all attributed to the
abolitionists. Well, anyhow, progress is being made. Here comes out
the _Southern Press_, and makes some honorable concessions. He says:
“The assaults upon slavery, made for the last twenty years by the
North, have increased the evils of it. The treatment of slaves has
undoubtedly become a delicate and difficult question. The South has
a great and moral conflict to wage; and it is for her to put on _the
most invulnerable moral panoply_.” He then thinks the availability
of slave property would not be injured by passing a law to prohibit
the separation of slave families; for he says, “Although cases
sometimes occur which we observe are seized by these Northern
fanatics as characteristic of the system,” &c. Nonsense! there are
no “cases sometimes” occurring—no such thing! They are every day’s
occurrences, though there are families that form the exception, and
many, I would hope, that would not do it. While I am writing I can
call before me three men that were brought here by negro traders
from Virginia, each having left six or seven children, with their
wives, from whom they have never heard. One other died here, a short
time since, who left the same number in Carolina, from whom he had
never heard.

I spent the summer of 1845 in Nashville. During the month of
September, six hundred slaves passed through that place, in four
different gangs, for New Orleans—final destination, probably, Texas.
A goodly proportion were women; young women, of course; many mothers
must have left not only their children, but their babies. One gang
only had a few children. I made some excursions to the different
watering places around Nashville; and while at Robinson, or Tyree
Springs, twenty miles from Nashville, on the borders of Kentucky and
Tennessee, my hostess said to me, one day, “Yonder comes a gang of
slaves, chained.” I went to the road-side, and viewed them. For the
better answering my purpose of observation, I stopped the white man
in front, who was at his ease in a one-horse wagon, and asked him if
those slaves were for sale. I counted them and observed their
position. They were divided by three one-horse wagons, each
containing a man-merchant, so arranged as to command the whole gang.
Some were unchained; sixty were chained, in two companies, thirty in
each, the right hand of one to the left hand of the other opposite
one, making fifteen each side of a large ox-chain, to which every
hand was fastened, and necessarily compelled to hold up,—men and
women promiscuously, and about in equal proportions,—all young
people. No children here, except a few in a wagon behind, which were
the only children in the four gangs. I said to a respectable mulatto
woman in the house, “Is it true that the negro traders take mothers
from their babies?” “Missis, it is true; for here, last week, such a
girl [naming her], who lives about a mile off, was taken after
dinner,—knew nothing of it in the morning,—sold, put into the gang,
and her baby was given away to a neighbor. She was a stout young
woman, and brought a good price.”

The annexation of Texas induced the spirited traffic that summer.
Coming down home in a small boat, water low, a negro trader on board
had forty-five men and women crammed into a little spot, some
handcuffed. One respectable-looking man had left a wife and seven
children in Nashville. Near Memphis the boat stopped at a plantation
by previous arrangement, to take in thirty more. An hour’s delay was
the stipulated time with the captain of the boat. Thirty young men
and women came down the bank of the Mississippi, looking
wretchedness personified—just from the field; in appearance dirty,
disconsolate and oppressed; some with an old shawl under their arm,
a few had blankets; some had nothing at all—looked as though they
cared for nothing. I calculated, while looking at them coming down
the bank, that I could hold in a bundle all that the whole of them
had. The short notice that was given them, when about to leave, was
in consequence of the fears entertained that they would slip one
side. They all looked distressed,—leaving all that was dear to them
behind, to be put under the hammer, for the property of the highest
bidder. No children here! The whole seventy-five were crammed into a
little space on the boat, men and women all together.

I am happy to see that morality is rearing its head with advocates
for slavery, and that a “most invulnerable moral panoply” is thought
to be necessary. I hope it may not prove to be like Mr. Clay’s
compromises. The _Southern Press_ says: “As for caricatures of
slavery in ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ and the ‘White Slave,’ all founded in
imaginary circumstances, &c., we consider them highly incendiary. He
who undertakes to stir up strife between two individual neighbors,
by detraction, is justly regarded, by all men and all moral codes,
as a criminal.” Then he quotes the ninth commandment, and adds: “But
to bear false witness against whole states, and millions of people,
&c., would seem to be a crime as much deeper in turpitude as the
mischief is greater and the provocation less.” In the first place, I
will put the _Southern Press_ upon proof that Mrs. Harriet Beecher
Stowe has told one falsehood. If she has told truth, it is, indeed,
a powerful engine of “assault on slavery,” such as these Northern
fanatics have made for the “last twenty years.” The number against
whom she offends, in the editor’s opinion, seems to increase the
turpitude of her crime. That is good reasoning! I hope the editor
will be brought to feel that wholesale wickedness is worse than
single-handed, and is infinitely harder to reach, particularly if of
long standing. It gathers boldness and strength when it is
sanctioned by the authority of time, and aided by numbers that are
interested in supporting it. Such is slavery; and Mrs. Harriet
Beecher Stowe deserves the gratitude of “states and millions of
people” for her talented work, in showing it up in its true light.
She has advocated truth, justice and humanity, and they will back
her efforts. Her work will be read by “states and millions of
people;” and when the _Southern Press_ attempts to malign her, by
bringing forward her own avowal, “that the subject of slavery had
been so painful to her, that she had abstained from conversing on it
for several years,” and that, in his opinion, “it accounts for the
intensity of the venom of her book,” his _really_ envenomed shafts
will fall harmless at her feet; for readers will judge for
themselves, and be very apt to conclude that more venom comes from
the _Southern Press_ than from her. She advocates what is right, and
has a straight road, which “few get lost on;” he advocates what is
wrong, and has, consequently, to tack, concede, deny, slander, and
all sorts of things.

With all due deference to whatever of just principles the _Southern
Press_ may have advanced in favor of the slave, I am a poor judge of
human nature if I mistake in saying that Mrs. Stowe has done much to
draw from him those concessions; and the putting forth of this
“_most invulnerable moral panoply_,” that has just come into his
head as a bulwark of safety for slavery, owes its impetus to her,
and other like efforts. I hope the _Southern Press_ will not imitate
the spoiled child, who refused to eat his pie for spite.

The “White Slave” I have not seen. I guess its character, for I made
a passage to New York, some fourteen or fifteen years since, in a
packet-ship, with a young woman whose face was enveloped in a
profusion of light brown curls, and who sat at the table with the
passengers all the way as a white woman. When at the quarantine,
Staten Island, the captain received a letter, sent by express mail,
from a person in New Orleans, claiming her as his slave, and
threatening the captain with the penalty of the existing law if she
was not immediately returned. The streaming eyes of the poor,
unfortunate girl told the truth, when the captain reluctantly broke
it to her. She unhesitatingly confessed that she had run away, and
that a friend had paid her passage. Proper measures were taken, and
she was conveyed to a packet-ship that was at Sandy Hook, bound for
New Orleans.

“Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” I think, is a just delineation of slavery. The
incidents are colored, but the position that the slave is made to
hold is just. I did not read every page of it, my object being to
ascertain what position the slave occupied. I could state a case of
whipping to death that would equal Uncle Tom’s; still, such cases
are not very frequent.

The stirring up of strife between neighbors, that the _Southern
Press_ complains of, deserves notice. Who are neighbors? The most
explicit answer to this question will be found in the reply Christ
made to the lawyer, when he asked it of him. Another question will
arise, Whether, in Christ’s judgment, Mrs. Stowe would be considered
a neighbor or an incendiary? As the Almighty Ruler of the universe
and the Maker of man has said that He has made all the nations of
the earth of one blood, and man in His own image, the black man,
irrespective of his color, would seem to be a neighbor who has
fallen among his enemies, that have deprived him of the fruits of
his labor, his liberty, his right to his wife and children, his
right to obtain the knowledge to read, or to anything that earth
holds dear, except such portions of food and raiment as will fit him
for his despoiler’s purposes. Let not the apologists for slavery
bring up the isolated cases of leniency, giving instruction, and
affectionate attachment, that are found among some masters, as
specimens of slavery! It is unfair! They form exceptions, and much
do I respect them; but they are not the rules of slavery. The strife
that is being stirred up is not to take away anything that belongs
to another,—neither their silver or gold, their fine linen or
purple, their houses or land, their horses or cattle, or anything
that is their property; but to rescue a neighbor from their unmanly
cupidity.

A REPUBLICAN.

No introduction is necessary to explain the following correspondence, and no commendation will be required to secure for it a respectful attention from thinking readers:

{ _Washington City, D. C.,_
{ _Dec. 6, 1852._

D. R. GOODLOE, ESQ.

DEAR SIR: I understand that you are a North Carolinian, and have
always resided in the South, you must, consequently, be acquainted
with the workings of the institution of slavery. You have doubtless
also read that world-renowned book, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” by Mrs.
Stowe. The apologists for slavery deny that this book is a truthful
picture of slavery. They say that its representations are
exaggerated, its scenes and incidents unfounded, and, in a word,
that the whole book is a _caricature_. They also deny that families
are separated,—that children are sold from their parents, wives from
their husbands, &c. Under these circumstances, I am induced to ask
your opinion of Mrs. Stowe’s book, and whether or not, in your
opinion, her statements are entitled to credit.

I have the honor to be,
Yours, truly,
A. M. GANGEWER.

* * * * *

_Washington, Dec. 8, 1852._

DEAR SIR: Your letter of the 6th inst., asking my opinion of “Uncle
Tom’s Cabin,” has been received; and there being no reason why I
should withhold it, unless it be the fear of public opinion (your
object being, as I understand, the publication of my reply), I
proceed to give it in some detail.

A book of fiction, to be worth reading, must necessarily be filled
with rare and striking incidents, and the leading characters must be
remarkable, some for great virtues, others, perhaps, for great vices
or follies. A narrative of the ordinary events in the lives of
commonplace people would be insufferably dull and insipid; and a
book made up of such materials would be, to the elegant and graphic
pictures of life and manners which we have in the writings of Sir
Walter Scott and Dickens, what a surveyor’s plot of a ten-acre field
is to a painted landscape, in which the eye is charmed by a thousand
varieties of hill and dale, of green shrubbery and transparent
water, of light and shade, at a glance. In order to determine
whether a novel is a fair picture of society, it is not necessary to
ask if its chief personages are to be met with every day; but
whether they are characteristic of the times and country,—whether
they embody the prevalent sentiments, virtues, vices, follies, and
peculiarities,—and whether the events, tragic or otherwise, are such
as may and do occasionally occur.

Judging “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” by these principles, I have no
hesitation in saying that it is a faithful portraiture of Southern
life and institutions. There is nothing in the book inconsistent
with the laws and usages of the slave-holding states; the virtues,
vices, and peculiar hues of character and manners, are all Southern,
and must be recognized at once by every one who reads the book. I
may never have seen such depravity in one man as that exhibited in
the character of Legree, though I have ten thousand times witnessed
the various shades of it in different individuals. On the other
hand, I have never seen so many perfections concentrated in one
human being as Mrs. Stowe has conferred upon the daughter of a
slave-holder. Evangeline is an image of beauty and goodness which
can never be effaced from the mind, whatever may be its prejudices.
Yet her whole character is fragrant of the South; her generous
sympathy, her beauty and delicacy, her sensibility are all Southern.
They are “to the manor born,” and embodying as they do the Southern
ideal of beauty and loveliness, cannot be ostracized from Southern
hearts, even by the power of the vigilance committees.

The character of St. Clare cannot fail to inspire love
and admiration. He is the _beau idéal_ of a Southern
gentleman,—honorable, generous and humane, of accomplished manners,
liberal education, and easy fortune. In his treatment of his slaves,
he errs on the side of lenity, rather than vigor; and is always
their kind protector, from a natural impulse of goodness, without
much reflection upon what may befall them when death or misfortune
shall deprive them of his friendship.

Mr. Shelby, the original owner of Uncle Tom, and who sells him to a
trader, from the pressure of a sort of pecuniary necessity, is by no
means a bad character; his wife and son are whatever honor and
humanity could wish; and, in a word, the only white persons who make
any considerable figure in the book to a disadvantage are the
villain Legree, who is a Vermonter by birth, and the oily-tongued
slave-trader Haley, who has the accent of a Northerner. It is,
therefore, evident that Mrs. Stowe’s object in writing “Uncle Tom’s
Cabin” has not been to disparage Southern character. A careful
analysis of the book would authorize the opposite inference,—that
she has studied to shield the Southern people from opprobrium, and
even to convey an elevated idea of Southern society, at the moment
of exposing the evils of the system of slavery. She directs her
batteries against the institution, not against individuals; and
generously makes a renegade Vermonter stand for her most hideous
picture of a brutal tyrant.

Invidious as the duty may be, I cannot withhold my testimony to the
fact that families of slaves are often separated. I know not how any
man can have the hardihood to deny it. The thing is notorious, and
is often the subject of painful remark in the Southern States. I
have often heard the practice of separating husband and wife, parent
and child, defended, apologized for, palliated in a thousand ways,
but have never heard it denied. How could it be denied, in fact,
when probably the very circumstance which elicited the conversation
was a case of cruel separation then transpiring? No, sir! the denial
of this fact by mercenary scribblers may deceive persons at a
distance, but it can impose upon no one at the South.

In all the slave-holding states the relation of matrimony between
slaves, or between a slave and free person, is merely voluntary.
There is no law sanctioning it, or recognizing it in any shape,
directly or indirectly. In a word, it is illicit, and binds no
one,—neither the slaves themselves nor their masters. In separating
husband and wife, or parent and child, the trader or owner violates
no law of the state—neither statute nor common law. He buys or sells
at auction or privately that which the majesty of the law has
declared to be property. The victims may writhe in agony, and the
tender-hearted spectator may look on with gloomy sorrow and
indignation, but it is to no purpose. The promptings of mercy and
justice in the heart are only in rebellion against the law of the
land.

The law itself not unfrequently performs the most cruel separations
of families, almost without the intervention of individual agency.
This happens in the case of persons who die insolvent, or who become
so during lifetime. The estate, real and personal, must be disposed
of at auction to the highest bidder, and the executor,
administrator, sheriff, trustee, or other person whose duty it is to
dispose of the property, although he may possess the most humane
intentions in the world, cannot prevent the final severance of the
most endearing ties of kindred. The illustration given by Mrs.
Stowe, in the sale of Uncle Tom by Mr. Shelby, is a very common
case. Pecuniary embarrassment is a most fruitful source of
misfortune to the slave as well as the master; and instances of
family ties broken from this cause are of daily occurrence.

It often happens that great abuses exist in violation of law, and in
spite of the efforts of the authorities to suppress them; such is
the case with drunkenness, gambling, and other vices. But here is a
law common to all the slave-holding states, which upholds and gives
countenance to the wrong-doer, while its blackest terrors are
reserved for those who would interpose to protect the innocent.
Statesmen of elevated and honorable characters, from a vague notion
of state necessity, have defended this law in the abstract, while
they would, without hesitation, condemn every instance of its
application as unjust.

In one respect I am glad to see it publicly denied that the families
of slaves are separated; for while it argues a disreputable want of
candor, it at the same time evinces a commendable sense of shame,
and induces the hope that the public opinion at the South will not
much longer tolerate this most odious, though not essential, part of
the system of slavery.

In this connection I will call to your recollection a remark of the
editor of the _Southern Press_, in one of the last numbers of that
paper, which acknowledges the existence of the abuse in question,
and recommends its correction. He says:

“The South has a great moral conflict to wage; and it is for her to
put on the most invulnerable moral panoply. Hence it is her duty, as
well as interest, to mitigate or remove whatever of evil that
results incidentally from the institution. The separation of husband
and wife, parent and child, is one of these evils, which we know is
generally avoided and repudiated there—although cases sometimes
occur which we observe are seized by these Northern fanatics as
characteristic illustrations of the system. Now we can see no great
evil or inconvenience, but much good, in the prohibition by law of
such occurrences. Let the husband and wife be sold together, and the
parents and minor children. Such a law would affect but slightly the
general value or availability of slave property, and would prevent
in some cases the violence done to the feelings of such connections
by sales either compulsory or voluntary. We are satisfied that it
would be beneficial to the master and slave to promote marriage, and
the observance of all its duties and relations.”

Much as I have differed with the editor of the _Southern Press_ in
his general views of public policy, I am disposed to forgive him
past errors in consideration of his public acknowledgment of this
“incidental evil,” and his frank recommendation of its removal. A
Southern newspaper less devoted than the _Southern Press_ to the
maintenance of slavery would be seriously compromised by such a
suggestion, and its advice would be far less likely to be heeded. I
think, therefore, that Mr. Fisher deserves the thanks of every good
man, North and South, for thus boldly pointing out the necessity of
reform.

The picture which Mrs. Stowe has drawn of slavery as an institution
is anything but favorable. She has illustrated the frightful cruelty
and oppression that must result from a law which gives to one class
of society almost absolute and irresponsible power over another. Yet
the very machinery she has employed for this purpose shows that all
who are parties to the system are not necessarily culpable. It is a
high virtue in St. Clare to purchase Uncle Tom. He is actuated by no
selfish or improper motive. Moved by a desire to gratify his
daughter, and prompted by his own humane feelings, he purchases a
slave, in order to rescue him from a hard fate on the plantations.
If he had not been a slave-holder before, it was now his duty to
become one. This, I think, is the moral to be drawn from the story
of St. Clare, and the South have a right to claim the authority of
Mrs. Stowe in defence of slave-holding, to this extent.

It may be said that it was the duty of St. Clare to emancipate Uncle
Tom; but the wealth of the Rothschilds would not enable a man to act
out his benevolent instincts at such a price. And if such was his
duty, is it not equally the duty of every monied man in the free
states to attend the New Orleans slave-mart with the same benevolent
purpose in view? It seems to me that to purchase a slave with the
purpose of saving him from a hard and cruel fate, and without any
view to emancipation, is itself a good action. If the slave should
subsequently become able to redeem himself, it would doubtless be
the duty of the owner to emancipate him; and it would be but
even-handed justice to set down every dollar of the slave’s
earnings, above the expense of his maintenance, to his credit, until
the price paid for him should be fully restored. This is all that
justice could exact of the slave-holder.

Those who have railed against “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” as an incendiary
publication have singularly (supposing that they have read the book)
overlooked the moral of the hero’s life. Uncle Tom is the most
faithful of servants. He literally “obeyed in all things” his
“masters according to the flesh; not with eye-service, as
men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, fearing God.” If his
conduct exhibits the slightest departure from a literal fulfilment
of this injunction of Scripture, it is in a case which must command
the approbation of the most rigid casuist; for the injunction of
obedience extends, of course, only to lawful commands. It is only
when the monster Legree commands him to inflict undeserved
chastisement upon his fellow-servants, that Uncle Tom refuses
obedience. He would not listen to a proposition of escaping into
Ohio with the young woman Eliza, on the night after they were sold
by Mr. Shelby to the trader Haley. He thought it would be bad faith
to his late master, whom he had nursed in his arms, and might be the
means of bringing him into difficulty. He offered no resistance to
Haley, and obeyed even Legree in every legitimate command. But when
he was required to be the instrument of his master’s cruelty, he
chose rather to die, with the courage and resolution of a Christian
martyr, than to save his life by a guilty compliance. Such was Uncle
Tom—not a bad example for the imitation of man or master.

I am, sir, very respectfully,
Your ob’t serv’t,
DANIEL R. GOODLOE.

A. M. GANGEWER, Esq.,
Washington, D. C.

The writer has received permission to publish the following extract from a letter received by a lady at the North from the editor of a Southern paper. The mind and character of the author will speak for themselves, in the reading of it:

_Charleston, Sunday, 25th July, 1852._

* * * The books, I infer, are Mrs. Beecher Stowe’s “_Uncle Tom’s
Cabin_.” The book was furnished me by —— ——, about a fortnight ago,
and you may be assured I read it with an attentive interest. “Now,
what is your opinion of it?” you will ask; and, knowing my
preconceived opinions upon the question of slavery, and the
embodiment of my principles, which I have so long supported, in
regard to that _peculiar_ institution, you may be prepared to meet
an indirect answer. This my own consciousness of truth would not
allow, in the present instance. The book is a truthful picture of
life, with the dark outlines beautifully portrayed. The life—the
characteristics, incidents, and the dialogues—is life itself reduced
to paper. In her appendix she rather evades the question whether it
was taken from actual scones, but says there are many counterparts.
In this she is correct, beyond doubt. Had she changed the picture of
Legree, on Red river, for —— ——, on —— Island, South Carolina, she
could not have drawn a more admirable portrait. I am led to question
whether she had not some knowledge of this beast, as he is known to
be, and made the transposition for effect.

My position in connection with the extreme party, both in Georgia
and South Carolina, would constitute a restraint to the full
expression of my feelings upon several of the governing principles
of the institution. I have studied slavery, in all its different
phases,—have been thrown in contact with the negro in different
parts of the world, and made it my aim to study his nature, so far
as my limited abilities would give me light,—and, whatever my
opinions have been, they were based upon what I supposed to be
honest convictions.

During the last three years you well know what my opportunities have
been to examine all the sectional bearings of an institution which
now holds the great and most momentous question of our federal
well-being. These opportunities I have not let pass, but have given
myself, body and soul, to a knowledge of its vast intricacies,—to
its constitutional compact, and its individual hardships. Its wrongs
are in the constituted rights of the master, and the _blank letter_
of those laws which pretend to govern the bondman’s rights. What
legislative act, based upon the construction of self-protection for
the very men who contemplate the laws,—even though their intention
was amelioration,—could be enforced, when the legislated object is
held as the _bond property_ of the legislator? The very fact of
constituting a law for the amelioration of property becomes an
absurdity, so far as carrying it out is concerned. A law which is
intended to govern, and gives the governed no means of seeking its
protection, is like the clustering together of so many useless words
for vain show. But why talk of law? That which is considered the
popular rights of a people, and every tenacious prejudice set forth
to protect its property interest, creates its own power, against
every weaker vessel. Laws which interfere with this become
unpopular,—repugnant to a forceable will, and a dead letter in
effect. So long as the voice of the governed cannot be heard, and
his wrongs are felt beyond the jurisdiction or domain of the law, as
nine-tenths are, where is the hope of redress? The master is the
powerful vessel; the negro feels his dependence, and, fearing the
consequences of an appeal for his rights, submits to the cruelty of
his master, in preference to the dread of something more cruel. It
is in those disputed cases of cruelty we find the wrongs of slavery,
and in those governing laws which give power to bad Northern men to
become the most cruel taskmasters. Do not judge, from my
observations, that I am seeking consolation for the abolitionists.
Such is not my intention; but truth to a course which calls loudly
for reformation constrains me to say that humanity calls for some
law to govern the force and absolute will of the master, and to
reform no part is more requisite than that which regards the slave’s
food and raiment. A person must live years at the South before he
can become fully acquainted with the many workings of slavery. A
Northern man not prominently interested in the political and social
weal of the South may live for years in it, and pass from town to
town in his every-day pursuits, and yet see but the polished side of
slavery. With me it has been different. Its effect upon the negro
himself, and its effect upon the social and commercial well-being of
Southern society, has been laid broadly open to me, and I have seen
more of its workings within the past year than was disclosed to me
all the time before. It is with these feelings that I am constrained
to do credit to Mrs. Stowe’s book, which I consider must have been
written by one who derived the materials from a thorough
acquaintance with the subject. The character of the slave-dealer,
the bankrupt owner in Kentucky, and the New Orleans merchant, are
simple every-day occurrences in these parts. Editors may speak of
the dramatic effect as they please; the tale is not told them, and
the occurrences of common reality would form a picture more glaring.
I could write a work, with date and incontrovertible facts, of
abuses which stand recorded in the knowledge of the community in
which they were transacted, that would need no dramatic effect, and
would stand out ten-fold more horrible than anything Mrs. Stowe has
described.

I have read two columns in the _Southern Press_ of Mrs. Eastman’s
“_Aunt Phillis’ Cabin_, or Southern Life as It Is,” with the remarks
of the editor. I have no comments to make upon it, that being done
by itself. The editor might have saved himself being writ down an
ass by the public, if he had withheld his nonsense. If the two
columns are a specimen of Mrs. Eastman’s book, I pity her attempt
and her name as an author.

PART II.