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Secret Service

<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> <div class="chapquot"> <div> 'Tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labor in his vocation. King Henry IV. </div> </div> The city was measurably quiet, but arrests, and examinations of suspected Abolitionists, were frequent. In general, I felt little personal disquietude, except the fear of encountering some one who knew my antecedents; but about once a week something transpired to make me thoroughly uncomfortable for the moment. <div class="sidenote"> Preparing and Transmitting Correspondence.</div> I attended daily the Louisiana Convention, sitting among the spectators. I could take no notes, but relied altogether upon memory. In corresponding, I endeavored to cover my tracks as far as possible. Before leaving Cincinnati, I had encountered a friend just from New Orleans, and induced him to write for me one or two letters, dated in the latter city. They were copied, with some changes of style, and published. Hence investigation would have shown that <cite>The Tribune</cite> writer began two or three weeks before I reached the city, and thrown a serious obstacle in the way of identifying him. My dispatches, transmitted sometimes by mail, sometimes by express, were addressed alternately to half a dozen banking and commercial firms in New York, who at once forwarded them to <cite>The Tribune</cite> editorial rooms. They were written like ordinary business letters, treating of trade and monetary affairs, and containing drafts upon supposititious persons, quite princely in amount. I never learned, however, that they appreciably enlarged the [Pg 58] exchequer of their recipients. Indeed, they were a good deal like the voluminous epistles which Mr. Toots, in his school-boy days, was in the habit of writing to himself. <div class="sidenote">Guarding Letters against Scrutiny.</div> I used a system of cipher, by which all phrases between certain private marks were to be exactly reversed in printing. Thus, if I characterized any one as "patriot and an honest man," inclosing the sentence in brackets, it was to be rendered a "demagogue and a scoundrel." All matter between certain other marks was to be omitted. If a paragraph commenced at the very edge of a sheet, it was to be printed precisely as it stood. But beginning it half across the page indicated that it contained something to be translated by the cipher. The letters, therefore, even if examined, would hardly be comprehended. Whether tampered with or not, they always reached the office. I never kept any papers on my person, or in my room, which could excite suspicion, if read. In writing, I assumed the tone of an old citizen, sometimes remarking that during a residence of fourteen years in New Orleans, I had never before seen such a whirlwind of passion, etc. In recording incidents I was often compelled to change names, places, and dates, though always faithful to the fact. Toward the close of my stay, the correspondence appearing to pass unopened, I gave minute and exact details, designing to be in the North before the letters could return in print. <div class="sidenote"> A Philadelphian among the Rebels.</div> Two incidents will illustrate the condition of affairs better than any general description. Soon after Mr. Lincoln's election, a Philadelphian reached New Orleans, on a collecting tour. One evening he was standing in the counting-room of a merchant, who asked him:— [Pg 59] "Well, now you Black Republicans have elected your President, what are you going to do next?" "We will show you," was the laughing response. Both spoke in jest; but the bookkeeper of the house, standing by, with his back turned, belonged to the Minute Men, who, that very evening, by a delegation of fifty, waited on the Philadelphian at the St. James Hotel. They began by demanding whether he was a Black Republican. He at once surmised that he was obtaining a glimpse of the hydra of Secession, beside which the armed rhinoceros were an agreeable companion, and the rugged Russian bear a pleasant household pet. His face grew pallid, but he replied, with dignity and firmness: "I deny your right to ask me any such questions." The inquisitors, who were of good social position and gentlemanly manners, claimed that the public emergency was so great as to justify them in examining all strangers who excited suspicion; and that he left them only the alternative of concluding him an Abolitionist and an incendiary. At last he informed them truthfully that he had never sympathized with the Anti-Slavery party, and had always voted the Democratic ticket. They next inquired if the house which employed him was Black Republican. "Gentlemen," he replied, "it is a business firm, not a political one. I never heard politics mentioned by either of the partners. I don't know whether they are Republicans or Democrats." He cheerfully permitted his baggage to be searched by the Minute Men, who, finding nothing objectionable, bade him good-evening. But, just after they left, a mob of Roughs, attracted by the report that an Abolitionist was stopping there, entered the hotel. They [Pg 60] were very noisy and profane, crying—"Let us see him; bring out the scoundrel!" His friend, the merchant, spirited him out of the house through a back door, and drove him to the railway station, whence a midnight train was starting for the North. His pursuers, finding the room of their victim empty, followed in hot haste to the dépôt. The merchant saw them coming, and again conveyed him away to a private room. He was kept concealed for three days, until the excitement subsided, and then went north by a night train. <div class="sidenote">Secession vs. Sincerity.</div> One of the clerks at the hotel where I was boarding had been an acquaintance of mine in the North ten years before. Though I now saw him several times a day, politics were seldom broached between us. But, whenever they came up, we both talked mild Secession. I did not believe him altogether sincere, and I presume he did me equal justice; but instinct is a great matter, and we were cowards on instinct. During the next summer, I chanced to meet him unexpectedly in Chicago. After we exchanged greetings, his first question was— "What did you honestly think of Secession while in New Orleans?" "Do you know what I was doing there?" "On your way to Mexico, were you not?" "No; corresponding for <cite>The Tribune</cite>." His eyes expanded visibly at this information, and he inquired, with some earnestness— "Do you know what would have been done with you if you had been detected?" "I have my suspicions, but, of course, do not know. Do you?" "Yes; you would have been hung!" [Pg 61] "Do you think so?" "I am sure of it. You would not have had a shadow of chance for your life!" My friend knew the Secessionists thoroughly, and his evidence was doubtless trustworthy. I felt no inclination to test it by repeating the experiment. <div class="sidenote"> A Mania for Southern Manufacturing.</div> The establishment of domestic manufactures was always a favorite theme throughout the South; but the manufactures themselves continued very rudimentary. The furniture dealers, for example, made a pretense of making their own wares. They invariably showed customers through their workshops, and laid great stress upon their encouragement of southern industry; but they really received seven-eighths of their furniture from the North, having it delivered at back-doors, under cover of the night. Secession gave a new impetus to all sorts of manufacturing projects. The daily newspapers constantly advocated them, but were quite oblivious of the vital truth that skilled labor will have opinions, and opinions can not be tolerated in a slave community. One sign on Canal-street read, "Sewing Machines manufactured on Southern Soil"—a statement whose truth was more than doubtful. The agent of a rival machine advertised that his patent was owned in New Orleans, and, therefore, pre-eminently worthy of patronage. Little pasteboard boxes were labeled "Superior Southern Matches," and the newspapers announced exultingly that a candy factory was about to be established. But the greatest stress was laid upon the Southern Shoe Factory, on St. Ferdinand-street—a joint stock concern, with a capital of one hundred thousand dollars. It was only two months old, and, therefore, experimental; [Pg 62] but its work was in great demand, and it was the favorite illustration of the feasibility of southern manufactures. <div class="sidenote">Visit to the Southern Shoe Factory.</div> Sauntering in, one evening, I introduced myself as a stranger, drawn thither by curiosity. The superintendent courteously invited me to go through the establishment with him. His physiognomy and manners impressed me as unmistakably northern; but, to make assurance doubly sure, I ventured some remark which inferred that he was a native of New Orleans. He at once informed me that he was from St. Louis. When I pursued the matter further, by speaking of some recent improvements in that city, he replied: "I was born in St. Louis, but left there when I was twelve months old. Philadelphia has been my home since, until I came here to take charge of this establishment." The work was nearly all done with machinery run by steam. As we walked through the basement, and he pointed out the implements for cutting and pressing sole-leather, I could not fail to notice that every one bore the label of its manufacturer, followed by these incendiary words: "Boston, Massachusetts!" Then we ascended to the second story, where sewing and pegging were going on. All the stitching was done as in the large northern manufactories, with sewing-machines run by steam—a combination of two of the greatest mechanical inventions. Add a third, and in the printing-press, the steam-engine, and the sewing-machine, you have the most potent material agencies of civilization. <div class="sidenote">Where its Facilities Came From.</div> Here was the greatest curiosity of all—the patent pegging-machine, which cuts out the pegs from a thin [Pg 63] strip of wood, inserts the awl, and pegs two rows around the sole of a large shoe, more regularly and durably than it can be done by hand—all in less than twenty-five seconds. Need I add that it is a Yankee invention? One machine for finishing, smoothing, and polishing the soles came from Paris; but all the others bore that ominous label, "Boston, Massachusetts!" In the third story, devoted to fitting the soles and other finishing processes, the same fact was apparent—every machine was from New England. The work was confined exclusively to coarse plantation brogans, which were sold at from thirteen to nineteen dollars per case of twelve pairs. Shoes of the same quality, at the great factories in Milford, Haverhill, and Lynn, Massachusetts, were then selling by the manufacturers at prices ranging from six to thirteen dollars per case. In one apartment we found three men making boxes for packing the shoes, from boards already sawed and dressed. "Where do you get your lumber?" I asked. "It comes from Illinois," replied my cicerone. "We have it planed and cut out in St. Louis—labor is so high here." "Your workmen, I presume, are from this city?" "No, sir. The leading men in all departments are from the North, mainly from Massachusetts and Philadelphia. We are compelled to pay them high salaries—from sixty to three hundred dollars per month. The subordinate workmen, whom we hope soon to put in their places, we found here. We employ forty-seven persons, and turn out two hundred and fifty pairs of brogans daily. We find it impossible to supply the demand, and are introducing more machinery, which will soon enable us to make six hundred pairs per day." [Pg 64] <div class="sidenote">How "Southern" Shoes were Made.</div> "Where do you procure the birch for pegs?" "From Massachusetts. It comes to us cut in strips and rolled, ready for use." "Where do you get your leather?" "Well, sir" (with a searching look, as if a little suspicious of being quizzed), "it also comes from the North, at present; but we shall soon have tanneries established. The South, especially Texas, produces the finest hides in the country; but they are nearly all sent north, to be tanned and curried, and then brought back in the form of leather." Thanking the superintendent for his courtesy, and wishing him a very good evening, I strolled homeward, reflecting upon the Southern Shoe Factory. It was admirably calculated to appeal to local patriotism, and demonstrate the feasibility of southern manufacturing. Its northern machinery, run by northern workmen, under a northern superintendent, turned out brogans of northern leather, fastened with northern pegs, and packed in cases of northern pine, at an advance of only about one hundred per cent. upon northern prices! New Orleans afforded to the stranger few illustrations of the "Peculiar Institution." Along the streets, you saw the sign, "Slave Dépôt—Negroes bought and sold," upon buildings which were filled with blacks of every age and of both sexes, waiting for purchasers. The newspapers, although recognizing slavery in general as the distinguishing cause which made southern gentlemen gallant and "high-toned," and southern ladies fair and accomplished, were yet reticent of details. They would sometimes record briefly the killing of a master by his negroes; the arrest of A., charged with being an Abolitionist; of B., for harboring or tampering with slaves; of C.—f. m. c. (free man of color)—for violating one of the [Pg 65] many laws that hedged him in; and, very rarely, of D., for cruelty to his slaves. But their advertising columns were filled with announcements of slave auctions, and long descriptions of the negroes to be sold. Said <cite>The Crescent</cite>: <div class="sidenote">Studying Southern Society.</div> <div class="blockquot"> "We have for a long time thought that no man ought to be allowed to write for the northern Press, unless he has passed at least two years of his existence in the Slave States of the South, doing nothing but studying southern institutions, southern society, and the character and sentiments of the southern people." </div> There was much truth in this, though not in the sense intended by the writer. Strangers spending but a short time in the South were liable to very erroneous views. They saw only the exterior of a system, which looked pleasant and patriarchal. They had no opportunity of learning that, within, it was full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness. Northern men were so often deceived as to make one skeptical of the traditional acuteness of the Yankee. The genial and hospitable southerners would draw the long bow fearfully. A Memphis gentleman assured a northern friend of mine that, on Sundays, it was impossible for a white man to hire a carriage in that city, as the negroes monopolized them all for pleasure excursions! One of my New Orleans companions, who was frank and candid upon other subjects, used to tell me the most egregious stories respecting the slaves. As, for instance, that their marriage-vows were almost universally held sacred by the masters; the virtue of negro women respected, and families rarely separated. I preserved my gravity, never disputing him; but he must have known that a visit to any of the half-dozen slave auctions, within three minutes' walk of his office, would disprove all these statements. [Pg 66] <div class="sidenote">Reporting a Slave Auction.</div> These slave auctions were the only public places where the primary social formation of the South cropped out sharply. I attended them frequently, as the best school for "studying southern institutions, southern society, and the character and sentiments of the southern people." I remember one in which eighty slaves were sold, one after another. A second, at which twenty-one negroes were disposed of, I reported, in extenso, from notes written upon blank cards in my pocket during its progress. Of course, it was not safe to make any memoranda openly. The auction was in the great bar-room of the St. Charles Hotel, a spacious, airy octagonal apartment, with a circular range of Ionic columns. The marble bar, covering three sides of the room, was doing a brisk business. Three perturbed tapsters were bustling about to supply with fluids the bibulous crowd, which by no means did its spiriting gently. The negroes stood in a row, in front of the auctioneer's platform, with numbered tickets pinned upon their coats and frocks. Thus, a young woman with a baby in her arms, who rolled his great white eyes in astonishment, was ticketed "No. 7." Referring to the printed list, I found this description: <div class="blockquot"> "7. Betty, aged 15 years, and child 4 months, No. 1 field-hand and house-servant, very likely. Fully guaranteed." </div> In due time, Betty and her boy were bid off for $1,165. <div class="sidenote">Sale of a White Girl.</div> Those already sold were in a group at the other end of the platform. One young woman, in a faded frock and sun-bonnet, and wearing gold ear-rings, had straight brown hair, hazel eyes, pure European features, and a [Pg 67] very light complexion. I was unable to detect in her face the slightest trace of negro lineage. Her color, features, and movements were those of an ordinary country girl of the white working class in the South. A by-stander assured me that she was sold under the hammer, just before I entered. She associated familiarly with the negroes, and left the room with them when the sale was concluded; but no one would suspect, under other circumstances, that she was tinged with African blood. The spectators, about two hundred in number, were not more than one-tenth bidders. There were planters from the interior, with broad shoulders and not unpleasing faces; city merchants, and cotton factors; fast young men in pursuit of excitement, and strangers attracted by curiosity. Among the latter was a spruce young man in the glossiest of broadcloth, and the whitest of linen, with an unmistakable Boston air. He lounged carelessly about, and endeavored to look quite at ease, but made a very brilliant failure. His restless eye and tell-tale countenance indicated clearly that he was among the Philistines for the first time, and held them in great terror. There were some professional slave-dealers, and many nondescripts who would represent the various shades between loafers and blacklegs, in any free community. They were men of thick lips, sensual mouths, full chins, large necks, and bleared eyes, suggesting recent dissipation. They were a "hard-looking" company. I would not envy a known Abolitionist who should fall into their unrestrained clutches. No prudent life-insurance company would take a risk in him. The auctioneer descanted eloquently upon the merits of each of his chattels, seldom dwelling upon one more [Pg 68] than five minutes. An herculean fellow, with an immense chest, was dressed in rusty black, and wore a superannuated silk hat. He looked the decayed gentleman to a charm, and was bid off for $840. A plump yellow boy, also in black, silk hat and all, seemed to think being sold rather a good joke, grinning broadly the while, and, at some jocular remark, showing two rows of white teeth almost from ear to ear. He brought $1,195, and appeared proud of commanding so high a figure. <div class="sidenote">Women on the Block.</div> Several light quadroon girls brought large prices. One was surrounded by a group of coarse-looking men, who addressed her in gross language, shouting with laughter as she turned away to hide her face, and rudely manipulating her arms, shoulders, and breasts. Her age was not given. "That's the trouble with niggers," remarked a planter to me; "you never can tell how old they are, and so you get swindled." One mother and her infant sold for $1,415. Strolling into the St. Charles, a few days later, I found two sales in full career. On one platform the auctioneer was recommending a well-proportioned, full-blooded negro, as "a very likely and intelligent young man, gentlemen, who would have sold readily, a year ago, for thirteen hundred dollars. And now I am offered only eight hundred—eight hundred—eight hundred—eight hundred; are you all done?" On the opposite side of the room another auctioneer, in stentorian tones, proclaimed the merits of a pretty quadroon girl, tastefully dressed, and wearing gold finger and ear rings. "The girl, gentlemen, is only fifteen years old; warranted sound in every particular, an excellent seamstress, which would make her worth a thousand dollars, if she had no other qualifications. She is sold for no fault, but simply because her owner must have [Pg 69] money. No married man had better buy her; she is too handsome." The girl was bid off at $1,100, and stepped down to make way for a field-hand. Ascending the steps, he stumbled and fell, at which the auctioneer saluted him with "Come along, G-d d--n you!" <div class="sidenote"> Mothers and Children.—"Defects."</div> Mothers and their very young children were not often separated; but I frequently saw husbands and wives sold apart; no pretense being made of keeping them together. Negroes were often offered with what was decorously described as a "defect" in the arm, or shoulder. Sometimes it appeared to be the result of accident, sometimes of punishment. I saw one sold who had lost two toes from each foot. No public inquiries were made, and no explanation given. He replied to questions that his feet "hurt him sometimes," and was bid off at $625—about two-thirds of his value had it not been for the "defect." Some slaves upon the block—especially the mothers—looked sad and anxious; but three out of four appeared careless and unconcerned, laughing and jesting with each other, both before and after the sale. The young people, especially, often seemed in the best of spirits. <div class="sidenote">A Most Revolting Spectacle.</div> And yet, though familiarity partially deadened the feeling produced by the first one I witnessed, a slave auction is the most utterly revolting spectacle that I ever looked upon. Its odiousness does not lie in the lustful glances and expressions which a young and comely woman on the block always elicits; nor in the indelicate conversation and handling to which she is subjected; nor in the universal infusion of white blood, which tells its own story about the morality of the institution; nor in the separation of families; nor in the sale of women—as white as our own mothers and sisters—made pariahs by an imperceptible African taint; nor in the scars and [Pg 70] "defects," suggestive of cruelty, which are sometimes seen. All these features are bad enough, but many sales exhibit few of them, and are conducted decorously. The great revolting characteristic lies in the essence of the system itself—that claim of absolute ownership in a human being with an immortal soul—of the right to buy and sell him like a horse or a bale of cotton—which insults Democracy, belies Civilization, and blasphemes Christianity. In March, there was a heavy snow-storm in New York. Telegraphic intelligence of it reached me in an apartment fragrant with orange blossoms, where persons in linen clothing were discussing strawberries and ice-cream. It made one shiver in that delicious, luxurious climate. Blind old Milton was right. Where should he place the Garden of Eden but in the tropics? How should he paint the mother of mankind but in <div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> ——"The flowing gold Of her loose tresses," </div> </div> as a blonde—the distinctive type of northern beauty? <hr class="chap" /> [Pg 71] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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