Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

  His mother, before leaving Nashville, visited the governor, and had an interview with him in regard to pardoning her son. He gave her some encouragement, but thought she had better postpone her petition for the present. After the lapse of several months, she wrote to him about it; but he seemed to have changed his mind, as the following letter will show: —

  Nashville, August 29, 1849

  “DEAR MADAM, — Your letter of the 6th of the 7th mo. was received, and would have been noticed earlier but for my absence from home. Your solicitude for your son is natural, and it would be gratifying to be able to reward it by releasing him, if it were in my power. But the offence for which he is suffering was clearly made out, and its tendency here is very hurtful to our rights, and our peace as a people. He is doomed to the shortest period known to our statute. And, at all events, I could not interfere with his case for some time to come; and, to be frank with you, I do not see how his time can be lessened at all. But my term of office will expire soon, and the Governor elect, Gen. William Trousdale, will take my place. To him you will make any future appeal.

  “Yours,&c., “N. L. BROWN.”

  The warden of the Penitentiary, John McIntosh, was much prejudiced against him. He thought the sentence was too light, and, being of a stern bearing, Richard had not much to expect from his kindness. But the same sterling inegrity and ingenuousness which had ever, under all circumstances, marked his conduct, soon wrought a change in the minds of his keepers, and of his enemies generally. He became a favourite with McIntosh and some of the guard. According to the rules of the prison, he was not allowed to write oftener than once in three months, and what he wrote had, of course, to be inspected by the warden.

  He was at first put to sawing and scrubbing rock; but, as the delicacy of his frame unfitted him for such labours, and the spotless sanctity of his life won the reverence of his jailors, he was soon promoted to be steward of the prison hospital. In a letter to a friend he thus announces this change in his situation:

  I suppose thou art, ere this time, informed of the change in my situation, having been placed in the hospital of the Penitentiary as steward..... I feel but poorly qualified to fill the situation they have assigned me, but will try to do the best I can..... I enjoy the comforts of a good fire and a warm room, and am allowed to sit up evenings and read, which I prize as a great privilege..... I have now been here nearly nine months, and have twenty-seven more to stay. It seems to me a long time in prospect. I try to be as patient as I can, but sometimes I get low-spirited. I throw off the thoughts of home and friends as much as possible; for, when indulged in, they only increase my melancholy feelings. And what wounds my feelings most is the reflection of what you all suffer of grief and anxiety for me. Cease to grieve for me, for I am unworthy of it; and it only causes pain for you, without availing aught for me..... As ever, thine in the bonds of affection,

  R. D.

  He had been in prison little more than a year when the cholera invaded Nashville, and broke out among the inmates; Richard was up day and night in attendance on the sick, his disinterested and sympathetic nature leading him to labours to which his delicate constitution, impaired by confinement, was altogether inadequate.

  Beside the bed where parting life was laid,

  And sorrow, grief, and pain, by turns dismayed,

  The youthful champion stood: at his control

  Despair and anguish fled the trembling soul,

  Comfort came down the dying wretch to raise,

  And his last faltering accents whispered praise.

  Worn with these labours, the gentle, patient lover of God and of his brother sank at last overwearied, and passed peacefully away to a world where all are lovely and loving.

  Though his correspondence with her he most loved was interrupted, from his unwillingness to subject his letters to the surveillance of the warden, yet a note reached her, conveyed through the hands of a prisoner whose time was out. In this letter, the last which any earthly friend ever received, he says: —

  I oft-times, yea, all times, think of thee; if I did not, I should cease to exist.

  What must that system be which makes it necessary to imprison with convicted felons a man like this, because he loves his brother man, “not wisely but too well?”

  On his death Whittier wrote the following: —

  “Si crucem libenter portes, te portabit.” — Imit. Christ.

  “The Cross, if freely borne, shall be

  No burthen, but support, to thee.”

  So, moved of old time for our sake,

  The holy man of Kempen spake.

  Thou brave and true one, upon whom

  Was laid the Cross of Martyrdom,

  How didst thou, in thy faithful youth,

  Bear witness to this blessed truth!

  Thy cross of suffering and of shame

  A staff within thy hands became,

  In paths where Faith alone could see

  The Master’s steps upholding thee.

  Thine was the seed-time: God alone

  Beholds the end of what is sown;

  Beyond our vision, weak and dim,

  The harvest-time is hid with Him.

  Yet, unforgotten where it lies,

  That seed of generous sacrifice,

  Though seeming on the desert cast,

  Shall rise with bloom and fruit at last.

  J. G. WHITTIER.

  Amesbury, Second mo. 18th, 1852.

  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 candour 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 honoured. 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, October 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 coloured. 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 indorse 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 rumours, 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 coloured, 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 that flesh is heir to.” It has been feared that the book would result in injury to the slaveholding 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 favour (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, and 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 on 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 post-marked New Orleans, June 19, 1852.

  “I have just been reading ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin, or, Scenes in Lowly Life,’ by Mrs. . 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, ‘Oh, 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. Colourings in the work there are, but no colourings 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 slaveholder 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 honour 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 man, 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 slaveholders 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 anyone 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 favoured 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 t
he 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 enamoured 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, Kentucky. 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 duty, 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’ 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.