Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 10, No. 57, July, 1862

V >> Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 10, No. 57, July, 1862

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If a farm and factory, which badly managed produce $40,000 annually,
can by good management be made to produce $42,500, and can be very
much increased in value and ease of management by the process, the
owner had better borrow $15,000 to accomplish the object, and the tax
upon him of $2,500 required to meet the interest and sink the principal
will be no burden. That is the whole problem,--no more, no less.

We have been driven into a war to maintain the boundaries of our farm;
in so doing we shall probably spend $1,500,000,000. It behooves us not
only to meet the expenditure promptly, but to make the investment pay.

We have but to increase the annual product of the country six and
one-half per cent, and we shall meet the tax for expenses, interest,
and sinking-fund, and be as well off as we now are, provided the tax be
equitably assessed.

This increase can be made without any increase in the number of
laborers, by securing a larger return from those now employed, and by
the permanent occupation of the fertile soil of the South by a large
portion of the Union army, as settlers and cultivators, who have
heretofore spent their energies upon the comparatively unproductive
soil of the North.

Slavery is the one obstacle to be removed in order to render this war a
paying operation.

Under the false pretence that the climate of the South is too hot for
white men to labor in the fields, the degradation involved in
field-labor in a Slave State excludes intelligent cultivators from the
cotton-fields, a very large portion of which have a climate less hot
and less unsuitable for white men than that of Philadelphia, while
there is not a river-bottom in the whole South in which the extremes of
heat during the summer are so great as in St. Louis. Slave-labor
cultivates, in a miserable, shiftless manner, less than two per cent,
of the area of the Cotton States; and upon this insignificant portion a
crop of cotton has been raised in one year worth over $200,000,000.

There is ample and conclusive evidence to be found in the statistics of
the few well-managed and well-cultivated cotton-plantations, that
skilful, educated farmers can get more than double the product to the
hand or to the acre that is usually obtained as the result of
slave-labor.

Again, it will be admitted that $350 per annum is more than an average
return for the work of a common laborer on an average New England farm,
including his own support.

It is capable of demonstration from, actual facts that an average
laborer, well directed, can produce a gross value of $1,000 per annum,
upon the uplands of Georgia and South Carolina, in the cultivation of
cotton and grain. Negro slaves under a negro driver, with no white man
on the premises, have produced this result in Hancock County, Georgia,
upon lands previously considered worthless, with a system of
cultivation singular and exceptional in that region, but common in all
well-cultivated sections, namely, a simple rotation of crops and a
moderate amount of manure.

Elevate the negro from a state of slavery to the dignity of a free
laborer, and his consumption of manufactured goods increases
enormously. In proof of this may be cited the trade with Hayti, and the
immense increase in the import of manufactured goods into the British
West Indies since emancipation. Slaves are furnished with two suits of
clothes in a year, made from the coarsest and cheapest materials: it is
safe to estimate, that, if the fair proportion of their earnings were
paid them, their demand upon the North for staple articles would be
doubled, while the importations of silks, velvets, and other foreign
luxuries, upon which their earnings have been heretofore lavished by
their masters, would decrease.

The commonly received view of the position of the cotton-planter is
that he is in a chronic state of debt. Such is the fact; not, however,
because he does not make a large amount of profit,--for cotton-planting
is the most profitable branch of agriculture in the United States,--but
because his standard of value is a negro, and not a dollar, and, in the
words of a Southern writer, "He is constantly buying more land to make
more cotton to buy more negroes to cultivate more land to raise more
cotton to buy more negroes," and for every negro he buys he gets
trusted for another. Both himself and his hands are of the least
possible value to the community. By maintaining his system he excludes
cheap labor from the cultivation of cotton,--slave-labor being the
most wasteful and the most expensive of any. He purchases for his
laborers the least possible amount of manufactured articles, and he
wastes his own expenditure in the purchase of foreign luxuries.

Reference has been made to the increase to be expected in the product
of wool, after the removal or destruction of Slavery.

We import annually 30,000,000 pounds of wool, and make little or no use
of the best region for growing wool in the whole country,--the western
slope of the Alleghany and Cumberland Mountains and of the Blue Ridge.
Free laborers will not go there, although few slaves are there to be
found; for they well know that there is no respect or standing for the
free laborer in any Slave State.

Again, throughout the uplands of Georgia, the Carolinas, and Alabama,
it has been proved that sheep can be raised upon the English system
with the greatest success. Upon their light lands, (selling at less
than $1 per acre,) turnips can be raised in great abundance and fed to
sheep in the field, and by the process the fields brought to a point of
fertility, for cotton or grain, equal to the best bottom-lands of
Mississippi or Louisiana. This fact has been sufficiently proved by the
experience of the very few good farmers in Georgia.

The climate of these sections is wonderfully healthy, and is far
better adapted to the production of wool than that of England, the
extremes of heat and cold being far greater, and yet the cold not being
sufficient to prevent the raising of turnips or feeding from the field
in winter. To produce fine fleece-wool, a warm summer and a cool
winter are requisite.

Let any one examine Southern writings upon agriculture, and note the
experience of the few working, sensible cultivators, who, by a system
of rewards and premiums partially equivalent to the payment of wages
to their slaves, have obtained the best results of which Slavery is
capable, and he will realize the immense increase to be expected when
free and intelligent labor shall be applied to Southern agriculture.

We hold, therefore, that by the destruction of Slavery, and by that
only, this war can be made to pay, and taxation become no burden.

By free labor upon Southern soil we shall add to the annual product of
the country a sum more than equal to the whole tax which will be
required to pay interest and expenses, and to accumulate a sinking-fund
which will pay the debt in less than twenty years; while to the North
will come the immensely increased demand for manufactured articles
required by a thrifty and prosperous middle class, instead of the small
demand for coarse, cheap articles required by slaves, and the demand
for foreign luxuries called for by the masters.

The addition of $250,000,000 to the product of the country would be a
gain to every branch of industry; and if the equable system of taxation
by a stamp-tax on all sales were adopted, the burden would not be
felt. The additional product being mostly from an improved system of
agriculture at the South, a much larger demand would exist for the
manufactures of the North, and a much larger body of distributors
would be required.

Let us glance for a moment at the alternative,--the restoration of the
Union without the removal of Slavery.

The system of slave-labor has been shaken to its foundation, and for
years to come its aggregate product will be far less than it has been,
thus throwing upon the North the whole burden of the taxes with no
compensating gain in resources.

Only the refuse of our army could remain in the Slave States, to
become to us in the future an element of danger and not of
security,--the industrious and respectable portion would come back to
the North, to find their places filled and a return to the pursuits of
peace difficult to accomplish.

With Slavery removed, the best part of our army will remain upon the
fertile soil and in the genial climate of the South, forming
communities, retaining their arms, keeping peace and good order with
no need of a standing army, and constituting the _nuclei_ around
which the poor-white trash of the South would gather to be educated in
the labor-system of the North, and thus, and thus only, to become loyal
citizens.

The mass of the white population of the South are ignorant and deluded;
they need leaders, and will have them.

We have allowed them to be led by slaveholders, and are reaping our
reward. Remove Slavery, and their present leaders are crushed out
forever.

Give them new leaders from among the earnest and industrious portion of
our army, and we increase our resources and render taxation no burden,
and we restore the Union in fact and not simply in name.

Leave Slavery in existence, and we decrease our resources, throw the
whole tax upon the North, reinforce the Secession element with the
refuse of our army, and bequeath to our children the shadow of a Union,
a mockery and a derision to all honest men.

THE POET TO HIS READERS.

Nay, blame me not; I might have spared
Your patience many a trivial verse,
Yet these my earlier welcome shared,
So let the better shield the worse.

And some might say,--"Those ruder songs
Had freshness which the new have lost:
To spring the opening leaf belongs,
The chestnut-burrs await the frost."

When those I wrote, my locks were brown;
When these I write--ah, well-a-day!
The autumn thistle's silvery down
Is not the purple bloom of May!

Go, little book, whose pages hold
Those garnered years in loving trust;
How long before your blue and gold
Shall fade and whiten in the dust?

O sexton of the alcoved tomb,
Where souls in leathern cerements lie,
Tell me each living poet's doom!
How long before his book shall die?

It matters little, soon or late,
A day, a month, a year, an age,--
I read oblivion in its date,
And Finis on its title-page.

Before we sighed, our griefs were told;
Before we smiled, our joys were sung;
And all our passions shaped of old
In accents lost to mortal tongue.

In vain a fresher mould we seek:
Can all the varied phrases tell,
That Babel's wandering children speak,
How thrushes sing or lilacs smell?

Caged in the poet's lonely heart,
Love wastes unheard its tenderest tone;
The soul that sings must dwell apart,
Its inward melodies unknown.

Deal gently with us, ye who read!
Our largest hope is unfulfilled,--
The promise still outruns the deed,--
The tower, but not the spire, we build.

Our whitest pearl we never find;
Our ripest fruit we never reach;
The flowering moments of the mind
Drop half their petals in our speech.

These are my blossoms; if they wear
One streak of morn or evening's glow,
Accept them; but to me more fair
The buds of song that never blow.

* * * * *

THE CHILDREN'S CITIES.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "CHARLES AUCHESTER."

There was a certain king who had three sons, and who, loving them all
alike, desired to leave them to reign over his kingdom as brothers, and
not one above another.

His kingdom consisted of three beautiful cities, divided by valleys
covered with flowers and full of grass; but the cities lay so near each
other that from the walls of each you could see the walls of the other
two. The first city was called the city of Lessonland, the second the
city of Confection, and the third the city of Pastime.

The king, feeling himself very old and feeble, sent for the lawyers to
write his will for him, that his children might know how he wished them
to behave after he was dead. So the lawyers came to the palace and went
into the king's bed-room, where he lay in his golden bed, and the will
was drawn up as he desired.

One day, not long after the will was made, the king's fool was trying
to make a boat of a leaf to sail it upon the silver river. And the fool
thought the paper on which the will was written would make a better
boat,--for he could not read what was written; so he ran to the palace
quickly, and knowing where it was laid, he got the will and made a boat
of it and set it sailing upon the river, and away it floated out of
sight. And the worst of all was, that the king took such a fright, when
the will blew away, that he could speak no more when the lawyers came
back with the golden ink. And he never made another will, but died
without telling his sons what he wished them to do.

However, the king's sons, though they had little bodies, because they
were princes of the Kingdom of Children, were very good little
persons,--at least, they had not yet been naughty, and had never
quarrelled,--so that the child-people loved them almost as well as
they loved each other. The child-people were quite pleased that the
princes should rule over them; but they did not know how to arrange,
because there was no king's will, and by rights the eldest ought to
have the whole kingdom. But the eldest, whose name was Gentil, called
his brothers to him and said,--

"I am quite sure, though there is no will, that our royal papa built
the three cities that we might each have one to reign over, and not one
reign over all. Therefore I will have you both, dear brothers, choose a
city to govern over, and I will govern over the city you do not
choose."

And his brothers danced for joy; and the people too were pleased, for
they loved all the three princes. But there were not enough people in
the kingdom to fill more than one city quite full. Was not this very
odd? Gentil thought so; but, as he could not make out the reason, he
said to the child-people,--

"I will count you, and divide you into three parts, and each part shall
go to one city."

For, before the king had built the cities, the child-people had lived
in the green valleys, and slept on beds of flowers.

So Joujou, the second prince, chose the city of Pastime; and Bonbon,
the youngest prince, chose the city of Confection; and the city of
Lessonland was left for Prince Gentil, who took possession of it
directly.

And first let us see how the good Gentil got on in his city.

The city of Lessonland was built of books, all books, and only books.
The walls were books, set close like bricks, and the bridges over the
rivers (which were very blue) were built of books in arches, and there
were books to pave the roads and paths, and the doors of the houses
were books with golden letters on the outside. The palace of Prince
Gentil was built of the largest books, all bound in scarlet and green
and purple and blue and yellow. And inside the palace all the loveliest
pictures were hung upon the walls, and the handsomest maps; and in his
library were all the lesson-books and all the story-books in the world.
Directly Gentil began to reign, he said to himself,--

"What are all these books for? They must mean that we are to learn, and
to become very clever, in order to be good. I wish to be very clever,
and to make my people so; so I must set them a good example."

And he called all his child-people together, who would do anything for
the love of him, and he said,--

"If we mean to be of any use in the world, we must learn, learn, learn,
and read, read, read, and always be doing lessons."

And they said they would, to please him; and they all gathered together
in the palace council-chamber, and Gentil set them tasks, the same as
he set himself, and they all went home to learn them, while he learned
his in the palace.

Now let us see how Joujou is getting on. He was a good prince,
Joujou,--oh, so fond of fun! as you may believe, from his choosing the
city of Pastime. Oh, that city of Pastime! how unlike the city of dear,
dull Lessonland! The walls of the city of Pastime were beautiful
toy-bricks, painted all the colors of the rainbow; and the streets of
the city were filled with carriages just big enough for child-people
to drive in, and little gigs, and music-carts, and post-chaises, that
ran along by clock-work, and such rocking-horses! And there was not to
be found a book In the whole city, but the houses were crammed with
toys from the top to the bottom,--tops, hoops, balls, battle-doors,
bows and arrows, guns, peep-shows, drums and trumpets, marbles,
ninepins, tumblers, kites, and hundreds upon hundreds more, for there
you found every toy that ever was made in the world, besides thousands
of large wax dolls, all in different court-dresses. And directly Joujou
began to reign, he said to himself,--

"What are all these toys for? They must mean that we are to play
always, that we may be always happy. I wish to be very happy, and that
my people should be happy, always. Won't I set them an example?"

And Joujou blew a penny-trumpet, and got on the back of the largest
rocking-horse and rocked with all his might, and cried,--

"Child-people, you are to play always, for in all the city of Pastime
you see nothing else but toys!"

The child-people did not wait long; some jumped on rocking-horses, some
drove off in carriages, and some in gigs and music-carts. And organs
were played, and bells rang, and shuttlecocks and kites flew up the
blue sky, and there was laughter, laughter, in all the streets of
Pastime!

And now for little Bonbon, how is he getting on? He was a dear little
fat fellow,--but, oh, so fond of sweets! as you may believe, from his
choosing the city of Confection. And there were no books in Confection,
and no toys; but the walls were built of gingerbread, and the houses
were built of gingerbread, and the bridges of barley-sugar, that
glittered in the sun. And rivers ran with wine through the streets,
sweet wine, such as child-people love; and Christmas-trees grew along
the banks of the rivers, with candy and almonds and golden nuts on the
branches; and in every house the tables were made of sweet brown
chocolate, and there were great plum-cakes on the tables, and little
cakes, and all sorts of cakes. And when Bonbon began to reign he did
not think much about it, but began to eat directly, and called out,
with his mouth full,--

"Child-people, eat always! for in all the city of Confection there is
nothing but cakes and sweets."

And did not the child-people fall to, and eat directly, and eat on, and
eat always?

Now by this time what has happened to Gentil? for we left him in the
city of Lessonland. All the first day he learned the lessons he had set
himself, and the people learned theirs too, and they all came to Gentil
in the evening to say them to the Prince. But by the time Gentil had
heard all the lessons, he was very, very tired,--so tired that he
tumbled asleep on the throne; and when the child-people saw their
prince was asleep, they thought they might as well go to sleep too. And
when Gentil awoke, the next morning, behold! there were all his people
asleep on the floor. And he looked at his watch and found it was very
late, and he woke up the people, crying, with a very loud voice,--

"It is very late, good people!"

And the people jumped up, and rubbed their eyes, and cried,--

"We have been learning always, and we can no longer see to read,--the
letters dance before our eyes."

And all the child-people groaned, and cried very bitterly behind their
books. Then Gentil said,--

"I will read to you, my people, and that will rest your eyes."

And he read them a delightful story about animals; but when he stopped
to show them a picture of a lion, the people were all asleep. Then
Gentil grew angry, and cried in a loud voice,--

"Wake up, idle people, and listen!"

But when the people woke up, they were stupid, and sat like cats and
sulked. So Gentil put the book away, and sent them home, giving them
each a long task for their rudeness. The child-people went away; but,
as they found only books out of doors, and only books at home, they
went to sleep without learning their tasks. And all the fifth day they
slept. But on the sixth day Gentil went out to see what they were
doing; and they began to throw their books about, and a book knocked
Prince Gentil on the head, and hurt him so much that he was obliged to
go to bed. And while he was in bed, the people began to fight, and to
throw the books at one another.

Now as for Joujou and his people, they began to play, and went on
playing, and did nothing else but play. And would you believe it?--they
got tired too. The first day and the second day nobody thought he ever
could be tired, amongst the rocking-horses and whips and marbles and
kites and dolls and carriages. But the third day everybody wanted to
ride at once, and the carriages were so full that they broke down, and
the rocking-horses rocked over, and wounded some little men; and the
little women snatched their dolls from one another, and the dolls were
broken. And on the fourth day the Prince Joujou cut a hole in the very
largest drum, and made the drummer angry; and the drummer threw a
drumstick at Joujou, and Prince Joujou told the drummer he should go
to prison. Then the drummer got on the top of the painted wall, and
shot arrows at the Prince, which did not hurt him much, because they
were toy-arrows, but which made Joujou very much afraid, for he did not
wish his people to hate him.

"What do you want?" he cried to the drummer. "Tell me what I can do to
please you. Shall we play at marbles, or balls, or knock down the
golden ninepins? Or shall we have Punch and Judy in the court of the
palace?"

"Yes! yes!" cried the people, and the drummer jumped down from the
wall. "Yes! yes! Punch and Judy! We are tired of marbles, and balls,
and ninepins. But we sha'n't be tired of Punch and Judy!"

So the people gathered together in the court of the palace, and saw
Punch and Judy over and over again, all day long on the fifth day. And
they had it so often, that, when the sixth day came, they pulled down
the stage, and broke Punch to pieces, and burned Judy, and screamed out
that they were so hungry they did not know what to do. And the drummer
called out,--

"Let us eat Prince Joujou!"

But the people loved him still; so they answered,--

"No! but we will go out of the city and invade the city of Confection,
and fight them, if they won't give us anything to eat!"

So out they went, with Joujou at their head; for Joujou, too, was
dreadfully hungry. And they crossed the green valley to the city of
Confection, and began to try and eat the gingerbread walls. But the
gingerbread was hard, because the walls had been built in ancient days;
and the people tried to get on the top of the walls, and when they had
eaten a few holes in the gingerbread, they climbed up by them to the
top. And there they saw a dreadful sight. All the people had eaten so
much that they were ill, or else so fat that they could not move. And
the people were lying about in the streets, and by the side of the
rivers of sweet wine, but, oh, so sick, that they could eat no more!
And Prince Bonbon, who had got into the largest Christmas-tree, had
eaten all the candy upon it, and grown so fat that he could not move,
but stuck up there among the branches. When the people of Pastime got
upon the walls, however, the people of Confection were very angry; and
one or two of those who could eat the most, and who still kept on
eating while they were sick, threw apples and cakes at the people of
Pastime, and shot Joujou with sugar-plums, which he picked up and ate,
while his people were eating down the plum-cakes, and drinking the wine
till they were tipsy.

As soon as Gentil heard what a dreadful noise his people were making,
he got up, though he still felt poorly, and went out into the streets.
The people were fighting, alas! worse than ever; and they were trying
to pull down the strong book-walls, that they might get out of the
city. A good many of them were wounded in the head, as well as Prince
Gentil, by the heavy books falling upon them; and Gentil was very
sorry for the people.

"If you want to go out, good people," he said, "I will open the gates
and go with you; but do not pull down the book-walls."

And they obeyed Gentil, because they loved him, and Gentil led them out
of the city. When they had crossed the first green valley, they found
the city of Pastime empty, not a creature in it! and broken toys in the
streets. At sight of the toys, the poor book-people cried for joy, and
wanted to stop and play. So Gentil left them in the city, and went on
alone across the next green valley. But the city of Confection was
crammed so full with sick child-people belonging to Bonbon, and with
Joujou's hungry ones, that Gentil could not get in at the gate. So he
wandered about in the green valleys, very unhappy, until he came to his
old father's palace. There he found the fool, sitting on the banks of
the river.

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