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Posted on Friday, April 20, 2012 1:16 PM
April 1862 was also the month in which a group of teachers and missionaries moved into the sea islands to work with the slaves who had been abandoned when the Union Army arrived in South Carolina. the members of this group are the subjects of my upcoming book, The Road to Frogmore. Although the missionaries were staunch abolitionists, they had little idea of the challenges they would face. A Scratch with the Rebels mentioned a few of them.
As the young Gideonites moved onto the abandoned
plantations of the Sea Islands, they confronted a myriad of situations for
which their college educations had not prepared them. They had arrived with
high expectations of cooperation from the local authorities in their efforts to
prepare the slaves for freedom. They were dismayed to discover that those
seemingly in command could not even cooperate with each other. One new
plantation superintendent, Edward S. Phibrick, reported that he had trouble
getting the crops handled, because of interference from two sources. Gen.
Hunter was trying to call up recruits for his new volunteer troop, and the
cotton agents were hiring the men away for fifty cents a day. Philbrick
complained that the blacks would wonder off and then return several days later,
expecting to see their families and then go back to work: "They are nearly
all active young men and are pleased with this roving sort of life, but you may
imagine how fatal such a state of thing is to my efforts at organization"
Susan Walker also commented on the clashes
over conflicting authorities: "I fear the cotton agent, Salisbury,
stationed here is not a good man. The Negroes complain of him, and they all
look so neglected it is quite evident he has done no good upon the plantation.
He drives the finest horses I have seen in Port Royal or St. Helena, gives good
dinners, entertains largely, has appropriated all the furniture and nearly all
the teams about the place and refuses to give anything to the superintendents
placed there by Mr. Pierce."
Such complaints and others reflected
the various misapprehensions under which the missionaries and other Northern
authorities labored in their early efforts to handle the problems of the
abandoned slaves. Susan Walker found her duties frustrating. Her first
impression of her pupils was that they were "ragged and dirty" but
polite, welcoming, more eager for books than for clothes. She was a teacher by training and an
abolitionist by conscience, and the abolitionist in her believed that to hand
out charity to the blacks would be to deny them their inherent equality. At the
same time, she could not ignore the lack of "social graces" that set
them apart from other students she had known. She was encouraged on the one
hand by their receptiveness but repelled by their lack of basic hygiene. Soon
she was sending at least half of them home from her makeshift classroom each
morning to wash their hands and faces before she would teach them. Not long
after her arrival, she visited the Jenkins' plantation, about eight miles away,
where she met a very pregnant slave woman whose problems overwhelmed her.
"Katy has 7 ragged, dirty children—what shall be done? No husband and nothing.
Some clothes are given for her children—one naked, and must have it at once. Is
Katy lazy? Very likely. Does she tell the truth? Perhaps not. I must have
faith, and she must at least cover her children."
Philbrick's reaction was somewhat
more admiring, although he recognized that his wife might have reservations
about working with the former slaves. He warned her that she could not bring a
servant with her if she chose to join him: "There are plenty of servants
here, which you are supposed to teach not only to read but—what is more
immediately important—to be cleanand
industrious. If you feel any hesitation
about coming in contact with them you shouldn't come, for they are sharp enough
to detect apathy or lurking repugnance, which would render any amount of
theoretical sympathy about worthless."
Perhaps
because he looked for signs that a slave was fully capable of full citizenship,
he found much to commend: "Think of their having reorganized and gone
deliberately to work here some weeks ago, without a white man near them,
preparing hundreds of acres for the new crop! The Irish wouldn't have done as
much in the same position."
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Posted on Thursday, March 17, 2011 12:51 PM
 On this St. Patrick's
Day, everyone wants to be thought of as at least part-Irish. It provides a wonderful excuse to go out
for a pint of Guinness or some corned beef and cabbage. Irish brogues and Irish
blessings seem to be on everyone's tongue. Green clothes have emerged from the
backs of closets, and a couple of comments on Facebook have reminded everyone
that if you don't wear green today, you can expect to be pinched by one of
those celebrants who may have imbibed a bit too heavily of green beer.
I
am reminded, however, how frequently various nationalities have suffered from
discrimination because they seemed strange or different, and the Irish were no
exception. One hundred and fifty
years ago, it was the Irish who were regarded by many Americans as somehow
inferior forms of humanity. That
form of prejudice leaps out at me as I
have been reading about the abolitionist attempts to prove that the
children of southern slaves were as capable as white children of getting an
education.
Here's just one example,
taken from letter written by
Edward Philbrick, an Abolitionist missionary in South Carolina. He had been telling his wife why he
believed newly-freed slaves were fully capable of becoming useful
citizens. He says, "Think of
their having reorganized and gone deliberately to work here some weeks ago,
without a white man near them,
preparing hundreds of acres for the new crop. The Irish wouldn't have done as much in the same position."
Another of the missionaries commented that to one who was used to seeing the
stupidity of Irish faces, the slaves did not appear to "suggest a new idea
of low humanity."
There
seems to be an underlying assumption in the thinking of the Civil War period,
that some peoples are just naturally inferior to others. Others among the missionaries speak of the
Irish as one of the "degraded races" of people who had fallen from
their original state of natural equality to a lesser status. I've been shocked
to see that the same people who argue for the inherent ability of the former
slaves have no qualms about sneering at the inferiority of the Irish. As a
counterbalance, it is also easy to find the Bostonian Irish making the same
disparaging remarks about Negroes in general, perhaps because they saw them as
competition in the labor force.
I'm
not quite sure what to make of all of this. Are you surprised to learn that the
Irish were attacked in this way? More important, what does it say about our
ability — or inability — to judge the worth of people who are different from
us?
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Carolyn Schriber: Posted on Wednesday, October 27, 2010 10:34 AM
Another member of the original "Gideon's Band" was socialite Susan Walker. She was traveling as a companion of Rev. and Mrs. French, but her purposes could not have been more different. In her obituary, someone described her as: "a philanthropist,
politician. mathematician, abolitionist, strong-minded woman . . . of
somewhat masculine appearance, with a large frame, dominated by a
powerful intellect, and unusually quick sympathies." While the Frenches were fervent evangelical missionaries, Susan Walker was a Unitarian abolitionist.
Susan was the only daughter among several sons in a prominent and well-to-do Masssachusetts family. She had had a first-rate education and was also a world traveler. She counted among her friends most well-known Boston abolitionists, as well as many of the leading politicians under Lincoln. She was on first-name terms with Salmon P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury; William H. Seward, Secretary of State; Edwin M. Stanton, Secretary of War; Senator Charles Sumner of Massachusetts; and Governor John A. Andrew of Massachusetts. In fact, on this trip, she carried a special charge: to report directly to Chase on the successes and failure of the mission.
Susan had trouble from the start, finding no common ground among the other missionaries. Her journal attempts to make light of the deprivations they found on St. Helena Island -- houses ransacked, no usable furniture, meager rations, and overcrowded living arrangements. She had more difficulty accepting the roles assigned to her. Could she sort the used clothing they had brought to distribute to the slaves? Of course, but many of the clothes were dirty or stained, and she found handling them distasteful. Could she take charge of the housekeeping chores? Of course, except that she had never had to "keep house" and had no idea where to start. Could she teach the slave children? Of course, if only they children would behave like serious scholars in the classroom. Could she work with the women? Of course, if only they would quit thinking like slaves.
She would have much preferred to do some of the tasks expected of the men in their group. She could have easily handled the business of a cotton agent or taken over the planning for land distribution, but such positions were not open to her. Within weeks, she was talking of going home, where she could be of more use. The approaching hot summer made an excellent excuse, and she left on June 9, 1862, just three months after joining the effort.
Will she be important to this book? Certainly. She represents one side of an intellectual/evangelical battle that hindered everything that the teacher-missionaries tried to do. Fervent abolitionist though she was, her reactions to the realities of a slave-based culture reveal deep-seated and erroneous northern assumptions about the nature of the slave population. Beyond that, she's going to make a wonderful foil for the pasionately silly Austa Fench.
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