The Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin
Harriet Beecher Stowe
Boston: Jewett, 1854


  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:—


  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.


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


  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:


  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. 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, '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 con-


vinced, 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


  The following facts make the fiction of “Uncle Tom's Cabin” appear tame in the comparison. They are from the New York Evangelist.


  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 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 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.

  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 causes, 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 endeavour to reform.

Very respectfully, JAMES L. HILL.

  Springfield, Illinois, 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.


  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 honourable 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 ascendancy in the hearts of the people, and the slaveholders 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 slaves 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 make some honourable 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 waggon, and asked him if those slaves were for sale. I counted them and observed their position. They were divided by three one-horse waggons, 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 waggon 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 neighbour. 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 Wretcheduess 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 neighbours, 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, she has, 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. This 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 favour 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 pas-


sage 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 coloured, 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 neighbours, that the Southern Press complains of, deserves notice. Who are neighbours? 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 neighbour 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 colour, would seem to be a neighbour who has fallen among his enemies, that have deprived him of the fruits of his labour, 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 nor gold, their fine linen or purple, their houses or land, their horses or cattle, or anything that is their property; but to rescue a neighbour from their unmanly cupidity.


  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.

  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 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 honour to be, yours truly, A. M. GANGEWER.

  D. R. Goodloe, Esq.

  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 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 common-place 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 recognised at once by everyone 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 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 manner born,” and embodying as they do the Southern ideal of beauty and loveliness, cannot be ostracised 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—honourable, 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 rigour; 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 honour 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 authorise the opposite inference—that she had 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, apologised 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 slaveholding States the relation of matrimony between slaves, or between a slave and free person, is merely voluntary. There is no law sanctioning it, or recognising 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 life-time. 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 slaveholding States, which upholds and gives countenance to the wrongdoer, while its blackest terrors are reserved for those who would interpose to protect the innocent


Statesmen of elevated and honourable 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 candour, 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 from 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 favourable. 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, it is 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 for 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 fulfillment 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 scenes, 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 connexion 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 forcible 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 dissected 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 task-masters. Do not judge from my observations that I am seeking consolation for the Abolitionists. Such is not my intention; but truth to a cause 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 feel-


ings 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's 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.