Posted on 04/25/2007 10:11:37 AM PDT by Non-Sequitur
Winston Churchill called him "one of the noblest Americans who ever lived," and Theodore Roosevelt called him "the very greatest of all the great captains that the English-speaking peoples have brought forth." But has political correctness turned Robert E. Lee into a villain? That will be the question explored by six historians this weekend at a symposium commemorating the bicentennial of the Confederate commander's birth. "We were afraid that Lee would not receive the honors he should get because of the prevailing political correctness," says Brag Bowling, a Richmond resident who helped organize Saturday's event at the Key Bridge Marriott Hotel in Arlington. The symposium will be the largest event of its kind this year honoring Lee, who was born Jan. 19, 1807.
(Excerpt) Read more at washingtontimes.com ...
In answer to your question, based on the link, NO. I do not subscribe to the “Dunning School” version of History.
However, neither do I agree with the “Liberal Yankee” version on this website, that is not only biased, but incorrect. Like this statement: “But it is for good reason that the rebel dead are not interred in cemeteries maintained by the United States.”
Total Cr*p!
Confederates are buried in cemeteries maintained by the US Government everywhere, INCLUDING Arlington National Cemetery, and Confederate Military Headstones are provided at no cost by the Government as well.
I have no doubt. But this wasn't about your rights or liberties. It was about an insult. Do you really believe that the way to deal with an insult is to come up to an unprepared opponent sitting at a desk and beat him with a gold-headed cane until the cane breaks? If Sumner had died, would you have called it murder, or honor avenged?
Nothing in American history is so close to life in Stalin's USSR than the condition of a slave in Dixie. But for some reason fans of the CSA have a hard time giving any consideration to the condition of the slaves. A slave being tied to one location with no freedom is limited government to some minds just as long as MY race has no restraints.
Slavery was LEGAL!
So is abortion and I'm sure you and I agree that that's not good.
Just because someone didn’t agree with it, like Stevens, that did not give them the right to destroy the social fabric of the South.
The rebs destroyed their social fabric themselves by starting a rebellion and losing. I just wish that Stevens had succeeded. The South would have been saved decades of ignorance and misery.
It’s a good thing we don’t live in France during the Revolution. You would probably have MY head on a pike!
Different cases. The end of the Civil War saw the well earned destruction of a degenerate civilization led by a worthless nonproductive idle class. Unlike other failed rebellions, no mass hangings resulted. The only cruelty Stevens promised was the chance for the plantation slugs to actually have to sweat and get dirty to earn their daily bread.
Do you think the slaveowning plantation bums were too good to work their own land like the freed slaves and despised white mud sills?
Sumner provoked his beating. His speech was extremely insulting to the gentleman in question. Under the Code Duello, in use at the time, Preston Brooks was entitled to beat him, but I personally believe that it was a bit excessive. The times being what they were, with members of Congress on BOTH sides pulling pistols, this wasn’t extreme.
Sam Houston beat Congressman Stanberry years earlier, over a speech as well.
First: Not all Plantation owners were lazy, cruel, etc. My ancestor and his sons worked the fields ALONGSIDE their slaves. Most were treated in a humane fashion, but yes, they were slaves.
Two: Comparing this issue to ABORTION is not accurate. Most people North & South didn’t have a problem with slavery.
And I repeat my former assertion that Thaddeus Stevens needed killing. Booth should have shot him FIRST.
So you think that violence is an appropriate reaction to words. You think that, because someone insults your uncle, you're entitled to beat him unconscious. Good to know.
Under the Code Duello, in use at the time,...
In use where? In the Senate chamber?
Sam Houston beat Congressman Stanberry years earlier, over a speech as well.
True, but Houston approached Stanberry in the street and Stanberry was armed with pistols and a knife. He actually pushed one of the pistols into Houston's chest, but it misfired.
Words can be very powerful. Especially when they are used to insult one’s honor in Congress, which is a public forum.
The “Code” was what governed most gentleman. I don’t know that there was an exception for Congress.
I can’t think of any better reason to beat the daylights out of someone than if they publicly insulted me before the entire nation.
Think About it. They wouldn’t take that up North either.
Let’s begin with one that you did not question:
(To)Brigadier General Watkins:
Cannot you send over to Fairmount and Adairsville, burn ten or twelve houses of known secessionists, kill a few at random, and let them know that it will be repeated every time a train is fired on from Resaca to Kingston?
W.T. Sheman
Major-General
OR, Series I, Volume 39 (Part III), p. 494
Are we to believe that the orders were carried out?
If so, that is your first “few”.
Did killing of innocent civilians occur? Of course it happened. As documented here:
http://ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/nc/cumberland/military/shermn01.txt
“Much has been written about Sherman’s march and one of the best books is The Civil War in North Carolina by John G. Barrett. Only bits and pieces however have been published about events in Sampson County.
The fame of Sherman’s Army in Georgia and South Carolina preceded his arrival in North Carolina by some time.
Their acts of destruction in South Carolina were justified by Sgt. David Floyd of the 75th Indiana, “The march through South Carolina had left a track of desolation more than forty miles wide. That states special guilt in taking
the initiative in secession was assumed by officers and men as justification of its devastation. The responsibility does not rest upon us”. (25:372)
Columbia had been sacked and burned and North Carolina braced itself for the hell to come. At that time nearly all men from sixteen to fifty years of age were away in the army and that left mainly women and children to face the
terror of the invading army.
At times about ten percent of Sherman’s army of several thousand were sent out as foragers to sack every farm, home, or store in their forty mile path.
If allowed, the foragers would move out far in front of the main columns as they were eager to get the first pickings.
Soon after crossing the North Carolina border James C. Bennett of Anson County met “Sherman’s Bummers” (foragers) when they took his money, watch, and other valuables.
Later in the day, another group came by and shot Bennett
because he had nothing left to steal. (51:33)
I think you also asked about rape documentation?
Here, from military documents, are the names of Union troops executed for rape:
Dawson Thomas, 32, b.ireland, laborer, pvt, Co H, 20th Mass., hanged at Stevensburg (Va) 20 april 1864 for desertion and rape of Mrs Frances West (60) near Morrisville (Va)
Geary Daniel, 18, pvt, co G, 72nd NY Vol. / Gordon Ransom S. 23, pvt, Co E, 72nd NY vol. both hanged 15 july 1864 for the rape of Mrs Mary Stiles (b.1835, married, 2 children, seamstress) near Prince george Courthouse (Va) on the night of 18 june.
Preble James, 22, b.Batavia (NY), pvt, co K, 12 NY cav., shooted at Goldsboro (NC) 31 march 1865 for attempted rape on Mrs Rebecca Drake (23) and Miss Louise Jane Bedard, her cousin (17) and rape of Miss Letitia Craft her aunt (58) near Kingston (NC) on the afternoon of 16 march 1865.
Sperry Charles, 29, b. Ireland, printer, sgt, co E, 13th NY cav., executed in Old Capitol prison, Washington DC, 3 march 1865 for attempted rape of Miss Annie Nelson (15) in Fairfax county (Va) in the night of 18 june 1864.
Catlett Alfred, 20, from Richmond (Va), farmer, pvt, co E, 1st heavy Art. USCT / Colwell Alexander, 26, farmer from NC, pvt same unit / Turner Charles, 18, farmer from Charleston (SC), pvt same unit / Washington Jackson, 22, farmer from NC, pvt co K same unit / The four was shooted at Asheville (NC) 6 may 1865 for the gang rape of “a young white woman” (in OR S1 vol XLIX part II).
Brooks Dandridge, 22, driver, b.Va, sgt, Co G, 38th USCT / Jackson William, 24, laborer, b Va, cpl co G, 38th USCT / Sheppard John, 20, laborer, b Va, cpl co I, 38th USCT / hanged at Brownsville (Tx) 30 july 1865 (Sheppard 13 october) for the gang rape of Miss Eliza Harriet Woodson (14) and Mrs Fannie Crawford near Richmond (Va) during the night of 11 april 1865. The 38th USCT was transfered to Texas where the three men was executed. A fourth was never seized.
Cook (or Cork) John Wesley, 23, b Wilmington (Del), laborer, pvt co B 55th Mass. inf. colored / Llyod Spencer, 21, b Wilmington, pvt same unit / Smith John M., 21, b Maine, pvt co A same unit / all hanged 18 february 1864 at Camp Shaw near Jacksonville (Fa) for the gang rape of Mrs Sarah Hammonds from Cedar Creek near Jacksonville in the morning of 17 february 1864. A fourth rapist was in the gang : Baker Wallace, 19, b Kentucky, farmer, co I same unit. Not identified during the rape but shooted at Folly island (SC) on 18 june 1864 for mutiny.
Gripen (or Gripon) James, 20, b SC, pvt co F 104rd USCT / Redding Ben (or Rudding Benjamin), b SC, farmer, pvt co D same unit / Leaders of a plunderer and rapist gang, hanged at Hilton Head (SC) 20 or 21 november 1864 for the rapes of Miss Eusebia Heape in the night of 17 august 1864 at McPhersonville (SC), Miss Florence Mew and Mrs Mary E.McTier on 19 august. The others members of the gang escaped justice.
Duelling involved one-on-one combat between gentlemen, both armed. What Brooks did was attempt to beat an unarmed man to death. You can claim all the 'honor' you want but Brooks did try and kill an older man without giving him a chance to defend himself. Hardly the actions of a gentleman.
Is that an admission that you were wrong?
“I just believe that if there was something so outlandish from Sherman, the evidence would be much much more overwhelming.”
It is out there. You just have to search.
“Obviously some abuses occurred, but I do not think the short period of Sherman’s transit comes close to the misery spread by the Confederates’ reign of terror when they controlled other parts of the South.”
There was no ‘reign of terror’. That is simply, and completely untrue. Life on the farms and cities was comfortable until Sherman and Sheridan arrived.
“The pro-rebs of SC and South Georgia did not seem concerned when their rebellion caused much misery to others, but when the discomfort finally hit their area, they cried to the heavens.”
There was no misery until the Union army appeared.
And there is certainly no proof that he was either justified or that his work shortened the war. That is all opinion and myth.
Why don’t you spend a little time reading this interview:
Typical Day-Life on the Plantation
GVD: What kind of resources did your plantation provide?
NBD: We had a steam mill for sawing lumber, and mills for grinding corn and wheat. Sugar was made in quantities for negroes, but there was no way of refining it. Everything was bountiful and we lacked nothing, but coffee and tea. Every known and unknown substitute was used for these drinks, but none were satisfactory; otherwise we never lived with greater abundance. Our swamps yielded us all game bountifully, venison, wild turkeys, partridges, and reed birds. It was a rich country and could feed an army.
GVD: how did a typical day begin on your plantation?
NBD: The day was always begun with family prayers, for my father’s religious principles were his staff in life, and he derived much strength from them. Fortunately, the love he gave the slaves was fully returned, and I doubt if there was ever a more devoted and united family.
GVD: what did slaves typically do in the evenings after work?
NBD: . . . . they [slaves] gathered in groups about their bright fires, roasting corn and singing their quaint and wonderfully sweet plantation songs.
GVD: What normally took place after breakfast on the plantation?
NBD: .… after breakfast it was customary for the head nurse to report any cases of sickness on the plantation to my mother. Mother’s medicine chest was brought out and together they consulted about the condition of each patient. If anyone were very ill, a man was sent to call in a physician who lived several miles away. My mother then hastened to the negro quarters, and if the invalids could be removed they were brought to the sick house - a large, long building fitted with cots - where they could be better cared for.
I can remember going fearlessly in and out of the cabins, carrying dainty dishes to many little ones who were suffering with what they then called putrid sore throat. It was really diphtheria, and, strange to say, not one of our family took the disease, though there were forty cases on the plantation.
GVD: After attending the sick, what was next?
NBD: After attending the sick, mother’s next duty was to give out the daily provisions. She made a pretty picture in her quaint gown carrying a basket of keys on her arm. The Bible verse, “She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness,” could well have been written of her. With twenty-five house and garden servants and the many little children to be looked after, this daily provisioning took a great deal of time, and thought. The house servants had their own kitchen and cook.
GVD: What was a typical Sunday like?
NBD: On Sunday they attended the same churches as the family, the galleries being reserved for them. I might have added in telling of their prayer meeting, that when we were present they always prayed for “Ole Massa and Missus,” and the various members of the family, including the “young Missus from the North.” The little negro children would leave their play to gather around me as they saw me walking about the grounds. On Sundays your mother and her daughters used to go around to the negroes’ houses to read the Bible, and teach the children Bible verses.
GVD: Were young mothers expected to work?
NBD: Mothers with babies were only required to do light work, such as raking leaves, spinning, or sewing, that they might be ready and in condition to nurse their babies.
GVD: How were the slaves provided clothing?
NDB: Another care of hers was to provide clothing for all the negroes, of whom there were over five hundred. To accomplish this, seamstresses were at work all the year round; three in the house and five or six in the negro quarters. These made the men’s and women’s clothing. All the cutting was done under mother’s supervision; and during the early part of the war, all the spinning and weaving of cloth, and even of blankets, was done on the plantation.
what did you do for medical care, with so many people on a plantation to attend to?
NBD: My mother had a magnificent constitution or she could never have accomplished the amount of work required of her. I never knew her to have until her latter years a physician for herself. But for family needs we had colored nurses who, under a physician, were competent and devoted in sickness.
It was a revelation to me of the tender care that old patriarch gave to his slaves, no wonder that they loved him. . . . . If a negro was sick, your father would always send him food from his own table, which was received with great pleasure.
Then why did Brooks apologize to the Senate, face an expulsion vote and end up resigning his seat (as did Keitt)?
I can’t think of any better reason to beat the daylights out of someone than if they publicly insulted me before the entire nation.
Except that Preston Brooks wasn't the one insulted by Sumner. It was his uncle.
I can’t think of any better reason to beat the daylights out of someone than if they publicly insulted me before the entire nation.
Really? You can't think of a better reason to beat someone almost to death than he insulted you? What strange priorties you have. I can think of lots of better reasons someone might deserve a beating than merely insulting me. Of course, by your moral code, I can walk up to Watie and give him a good thrashing with a heavy stick when he's not expecting it.
The Effect of War: Ruin and Destruction
GVD: Was your plantation destroyed or damaged by the Union during the war?
NBD: It was a wise provision that father was spared the sight of the destruction of his house and property, and possibly personal violence from the hands of the Northern soldiers, for during the raid, my uncle, an old man who was reputed to be wealthy was asked by the soldiers where he had buried his gold; and twice was he hung by them and cut down when unconscious, because he would not confess its hiding place. He had no gold, his wealth lay in his land and negroes.
GVD: Take us back to December 1864. It’s late in the war, but of course you had no idea then when the war would be over. But in late 1864 the Eastern seaboard, Georgia and South Carolina particularly, are feeling the effects of Sherman’s famous March to the Sea. Can you talk about that a little?
NBD: The year 1864, in the month of December, found me still in the old homestead [in Robertville]. Sherman had passed on the Georgia side of the river, to Savannah, which was taken. We wondered what would be his next move, but never for an instant thought he would retrace his steps, and go through South Carolina.
GVD: Did your father provide support or care for retreating Southern troops as Sherman marched through South Carolina?
NBD: The Southern troops which had guarded Savannah retreated to our neighborhood, and we cared for them for several weeks. There were at least five thousand troops on our plantation of nine thousand acres. Barbecues of whole beeves, hogs, and sheep were ordered for them. The officers were fed in the house, there being sometimes two hundred a day. The soldiers had their meals in camp.
GVD: Do you remember the day the Union army arrived at your plantation?
NBD: Shortly after father and mother’s departure, one morning, early, the remaining negroes came running to the house in a state of wild excitement, and said that Sherman’s army was crossing the Savannah River at the next landing below my father’s.
GVD: Do you remember precisely what you were doing that day?
NBD: I was picking oranges when the news came. Green oranges, blossoms, and ripe fruit all hung together on the tree. It was a favorite tree grown to an unusual size by the care given it, as it was always protected in winter. I have only to close my eyes at any time and see plainly the beautiful tree in all its glory of fruit and flower. We had picked from it that day a thousand oranges, the most luscious fruit, but they were left for Sherman’s army to devour, for we were thrown into a panic by the news the negroes brought us, and hastily got into our carriages and fled.
GVD: what happened to your slaves?
NBD: The negroes followed us in wagons, and we left our lovely home as if we had gone for a drive.
Sherman’s march through the Carolinas
GVD: Did you avoid coming in contact with Sherman after fleeing?
NBD: It was a strange fate that Sherman followed us in our flight passing through Columbia and within ten miles of us. His scouts came in and stole all our horses, except a few which we had time to hide in the swamps.
GVD: And your slaves?
NBD: The soldiers ordered many of the negroes, choosing the best young men, to mount the horses and go with them. All of them returned to us that night; they had broken away from camp, but were on foot.
GVD: What happened to Columbia?
NBD: Sherman’s army burned Columbia. Sherman may not have given the order, but he was undoubtedly responsible for the plunder and destruction engaged in by those under his command.
GVD: And . . .
NBD: Officers as well as soldiers had gone into houses and taken all food that could be found and burned it in the yards of the various houses; leaving the women and children to starve.
Finally, in mid-April 1865, you finally heard the news, “The war is over, Lee has surrendered.” What did you think? How did you feel?
NBD: My feelings were tumultuous; joy and sorrow strove with each other. Joy in the hope of having my husband back and the brothers and friends who were left, return to me, but oh, such sorrow over our defeat!
GVD: Did you long to return home to your plantation on the Savannah River?
NBD: As one after another of the family came back to us, worn out and dispirited, our thoughts turned to the dear old home on the Savannah River, and we longed to go back. Before yielding to our desires, it was considered wise for the men of the family to go first and investigate.
GVD: What did they find when they returned?
NBD: They found only ashes and ruin everywhere in our neighborhood, and father’s place, except a few negro cabins, was burned to the ground. There were thirty buildings destroyed. The steam mill, blacksmith’s shop, carpenter’s shop, barns, and house - nothing was left standing except chimney and brick walls to mark the place of our once prosperous, happy home. There was but one fence paling to indicate the site of our little village. The church, too, was burned, and now negro cabins are standing where it once graced the landscape. Our beautiful lawns were plowed up and planted in potatoes and corn by the negroes, who were told we would never return.
http://grapevinedispatches.wordpress.com/2007/03/18/life-on-a-plantation-the-civil-war-in-charleston/
What you are about to read is an “authentic” interview between Grapevine Dispatches and Mrs. De Saussure. The answers Mrs. De Saussure [pronounced DES-suh-sore] provides are historically-accurate, taken from her journal, diaries or letters. The questions are contemporary, but chosen and phrased in a manner as if Mrs. De Saussure were interviewed by a 21st century reporter....Imagine a reporter from Grapevine Dispatches sitting down with Mrs. De Saussure in 1909, on a large shaded porch, in Charleston of course; sipping ice tea . . . . asking questions we’d all love the answers to.
Hughes: Well, I belonged to, uh, B., when I was a slave. My mother belonged to B. But my, uh, but, uh, we, uh, was all slave children. An' after, soon after when we found out that we was free, why then we was, uh, bound out to different people. [names of people] an'all such people as that. An' we would run away, an' wouldn' stay with them. Why then we'd jus' go an' stay anywhere we could. Lay out a night in underwear. We had no home, you know. We was jus' turned out like a lot of cattle. You know how they turn cattle out in a pasture? Well after freedom, you know, colored people didn' have nothing. Colored people didn'have no beds when they was slaves. We always slep' on the floor, pallet here, and a pallet there. Jus' like, uh, lot of, uh, wild people, we didn', we didn' know nothing. Didn' allow you to look at no book. An' there was some free-born colored people, why they had a little education, but there was very few of them, where we was. An' they all had uh, what you call, I might call it now, uh, jail centers, was jus' the same as we was in jail. Now I couldn' go from here across the street, or I couldn' go through nobody's house out I have a note, or something from my master. An' if I had that pass, that was what we call a pass, if I had that pass, I could go wherever he sent me. An' I'd have to be back, you know, when, uh. Whoever he sent me to, they, they'd give me another pass an' I'd bring that back so as to show how long I'd been gone. We couldn' go out an' stay a hour or two hours or something like. They send you. Now, say for instance I'd go out here to S.'s place. I'd have to walk. An' I would have to be back maybe in a hour. Maybe they'd give me hour. I don' know jus' how long they'd give me. But they'd give me a note so there wouldn' nobody interfere with me, an' tell who I belong to. An' when I come back, why I carry it to my master an' give that to him, that'd be all right. But I couldn'jus' walk away like the people does now, you know. It was what they call, we were slaves. We belonged to people. They'd sell us like they sell horses an' cows an' hogs an' all like that. Have a auction bench, an' they'd put you on, up on the bench an' bid on you jus' same as you bidding on cattle you know.
Norwood: Was that in Charlotte that you were a slave?
Hughes: Hmmm?
Norwood: Was that in Charlotte or Charlottesville?
Hughes: That was in Charlottesville.
Norwood: Charlottesville, Virginia.
Hughes: Selling women, selling men. All that. Then if they had any bad ones, they'd sell them to the nigger traders, what they calltd the nigger traders. An' they'd ship them down south, an' sell them down south. But, uh, otherwise if you was a good, good person they wouldn' sell you. But if you was bad an' mean an' they didn' want to beat you an' knock you aroun', they'd sell you what to the, what was call the nigger trader. They'd have a regular, have a sale every month, you know, at the court house. An' then they'd sell you, an' get two hundred dollar, hundred dollar, five hundred dollar.
Norwood: Were you ever sold from one person to another?
Hughes: Hmmm?
Norwood: Were you ever sold?
Hughes: No, I never was sold.
Norwood: Always stayed with the same person. [Norwood and Hughes overlap]
Hughes: All, all. I was too young to sell.
Norwood: Oh I see.
Hughes: See I wasn' old enough during the war to sell, during the Army. And uh, my father got killed in the Army, you know. So it left us small children jus' to live on whatever people choose to, uh, give us. I was, I was bound out for a dollar a month. An' my mother use' to collect the money. Children wasn', couldn' spen' money when I come along. In, in, in fact when I come along, young men, young men couldn' spend no money until they was twenty-one years old. An' then you was twenty-one, why then you could spend your money. But if you wasn'twenty-one, you couldn'spen'no money. I couldn' take, I couldn' spen' ten cents if somebody give it to me. Cause they'd say, "Well, he might have stole it." We all come along, you might say, we had to give an account of what you done. You couldn' just do things an' walk off an' say I didn' do it. You'd have to, uh, give an account of it. Now, uh, after we got freed an' they turned us out like cattle, we could, we didn' have nowhere to go. An' we didn' have nobody to boss us, and, uh, we didn' know nothing. There wasn', wasn' no schools. An' when they started a little school, why, the people that were slaves, there couldn' many of them go to school, cep' they had a father an' a mother. An' my father was dead, an' my mother was living, but she had three, four other little children, an' she had to put them all to work for to help take care of the others. So we had, uh, we had what you call, worse than dogs has got it now. Dogs has got it now better than we had it when we come along. I know, I remember one night, I was out after I, I was free, an' I din' have nowhere to go. I didn' have nowhere to sleep. I didn't know what to do. My brother an' I was together. So we knew a man that had a, a livery stable. An' we crep' in that yard, an' got into one of the hacks of the automobile, an' slep' in that hack all night long. So next morning, we could get out an' go where we belonged. But we was afraid to go at night because we didn' know where to go, and didn' know what time to go. But we had got away from there, an' we afraid to go back, so we crep' in, slept in that thing all night until the next morning, an' we got back where we belong before the people got up. Soon as day commenced, come, break, we got out an' commenced to go where we belong. But we never done that but the one time. After that we always, if there, if there was a way, we'd try to get back before night come. But then that was on a Sunday too, that we done that. Now, uh, when we were slaves, we couldn' do that, see. An' after we got free we didn' know nothing to do. An' my mother, she, then she hunted places, an' bound us out for a dollar a month, an' we stay there maybe a couple of years. An', an' she'd come over an' collect the money every month. An' a dollar was worth more then than ten dollars is now. An' I, an' the men use' to work for ten dollars a month, hundred an' twenty dollars a year. Use' to hire that-a-way. An', uh, now you can't get a man for, fifty dollars a month. You paying a man now fifty dollars a month, he don' want to work for it.
Norwood: More like fifty dollars a week now-a-days.
Hughes: That's just it exactly. He wants fifty dollars a week an' they ain' got no more now than we had then. An' we, no more money, but course they bought more stuff an' more property an' all like that. We didn' have no property. We didn' have no home. We had nowhere or nothing. We didn' have nothing only just, uh, like your cattle, we were jus' turned out. An' uh, get along the best you could. Nobody to look after us. Well, we been slaves all our lives. My mother was a slave, my sisters was slaves, father was a slave.
Norwood: Who was you father a slave for Uncle Fountain?
Hughes: He was a slave for B. He belong, he belong to B.
Norwood: Didn't he belong to Thomas Jefferson at one time?
Hughes: He didn' belong to Thomas Jefferson. My grandfather belong to Thomas Jefferson.
Norwood: Oh your grandfather did.
Hughes: Yeah. An', uh, my father belong to, uh, B. An', uh, an' B. died during the war time because, uh, he was afraid he'd have to go to war. But, then now, you, an' in them days you could hire a substitute to take your place. Well he couldn' get a substitute to take his place so he run away from home. An' he took cold. An' when he come back, the war was over but he died. An' then, uh, if he had lived, couldn' been no good. The Yankees just come along an', jus' broke the mill open an' hauled all the flour out in the river an' broke the, broke the store open an' throwed all the meat out in the street an' throwed all the sugar out. An' we, we boys would pick it up an' carry it an' give it to our missus an' master, young masters, until we come to be, well I don' know how ol'. I don' know, to tell you the truth when I think of it today, I don' know how I'm living. None, none of the rest of them that I know of is living. I'm the oldes' one that I know tha's living. But, still, I'm thankful to the Lord. Now, if, uh, if my master wanted sen' me, he never say, You couldn' get a horse an' ride. You walk, you know, you walk. An' you be barefooted an' col'. That didn' make no difference. You wasn' no more than a dog to some of them in them days. You wasn' treated as good as they treat dogs now. But still I didn' like to talk about it. Because it makes, makes people feel bad you know. I could say a whole lot I don' like to say. An' I won't say a whole lot more.
Norwood: Do you remember much about the Civil War?
Hughes: No, I don' remember much about it.
Norwood: You were a little young then I guess, huh.
Hughes: I, uh, I remember when the Yankees come along an' took all the good horses an' took all the, throwed all the meat an' flour an' sugar an' stuff out in the river an' let it go down the river. An' they knowed the people wouldn' have nothing to live on, but they done that. An' thats the reason why I don' like to talk about it. Them people, an', an' if you was cooking anything to eat in there for yourself, an' if they, they was hungry, they would go an' eat it all up, an' we didn' get nothing. They'd just come in an' drink up all your milk, milk. Jus'do as they please. Sometimes they be passing by all night long, walking, muddy, raining. Oh, they had a terrible time. Colored people tha's free ought to be awful thankful. An' some of them is sorry they are free now. Some of them now would rather be slaves
Norwood: Which had you rather be Uncle Fountain? [laughs]
Hughes: Me? Which I'd rather be? You know what I'd rather do? If I thought, had any idea, that I'd ever be a slave again, I'd take a gun an' jus' end it all right away. Because you're nothing but a dog. You're not a thing but a dog. Night never comed out, you had nothing to do. Time to cut tobacco, if they want you to cut all night long out in the field, you cut. An' if they want you to hang all night long, you hang, hang tobacco. It didn' matter bout you tired, being tired. You're afraid to say you're tired. They just, well [voice trails off]
Note how as no matter how badly he was treated post slavery, death was still preferable to a return to bondage. What could possibly speak more clearly than that?
According to the code, you only challenge your social equal. Sumner didn’t qualify.
“Then why did Brooks apologize to the Senate, face an expulsion vote and end up resigning his seat (as did Keitt)?”
You forgot to ad that Brooks was re-elected by a LANDSLIDE.
“Except that Preston Brooks wasn’t the one insulted by Sumner. It was his uncle.”
He was family. Southern families are traditionally close.
“You can’t think of a better reason to beat someone almost to death than he insulted you? “
Insulted his Uncle on the floor of CONGRESS. Big Difference.
Heck, I almost got beat up for crossing a picket line at a cafe in NYC!
Seems Southerners aren’t the only ones that resort to violence.
Then why haul out the Code Duello to begin with? Sumner came from a prominent family, was educated at Boston Latin, Harvard, and Harvard law, and was fluent in several languages. Brooks was a wastrel, an unsuccessful duelist, and a mediocre politician. Sumner's intellect and sophistication put Brooks to shame. Brooks was the low-life, not Sumner. He beat an older, unarmed man almost to death, depending on he fellow lunatic, Lawrence Keitt, to hold off any interference with a pistol. Hardly the acts of gentlemen. More like street-level thugs.
In the end I suppose Sumner had his revenge. Brooks went on to his early and unlamented death in 1857. His victim lived for almost 20 more years and died a respected man. Brooks was planted in some foresaken spot, God knows where. Sumner was was awarded the honor of lying in state in the Capitol before burial at Mount Auburn in Massachusetts. Brooks is a trivia question and Sumner's memory lives on in the number of counties and people who were named after him.
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