American and Russian Alliance of 1858: The Slave Boy Who Refused to Work

By R.E. Sutherland M.ED.

Who was the American child that was adorned with jewels by the Russian Czaritza in 1860? How did the empty South Carolina Fort Sumter become occupied on Christmas Eve in 1861? What did the southern slaves actually say about slavery? This historical fiction explores the heretofore hidden facts about a relationship between Russia and America surrounding the time period before and after the Civil War. In 1858, after a whirlwind romantic third marriage, the southern politician from South Carolina, Francis W. Pickens, was sent to serve as the American Minister to Russia. His Texan wife, Lucy, bonded with the Russian Czar's wife to form a relationship that directly influenced history as the Civil War unfolded in the United States. Throughout the story, a lazy slave boy from Pickens' plantation grows up and accompanies the couple to Russia. The facts in the story have been documented and the sources are available in the bibliography of the book. This simple historical novel should inspire everyone to revisit the present understanding of the events that caused the Civil War, the bloodiest war fought in American history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 23, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469716121

R.E. Sutherland M.ED.

R.E. Sutherland earned a Masters of Education in the Sciences from the University of South Carolina in 1995, and holds a Bachelors of Biology from Emory and Henry College in 1976. She is presently employed with the Savannah River Site as a Nuclear Radiological Controls Inspector. Her book was written when an elderly Southern editor requested that she investigate a story that was given to him long ago by an elderly black gentleman. The story proved to be true.

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Copyright © 2002, 2006 by Rebekah E. Sutherland

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This is a work of fiction. Although it is inspired by actual events and historical persons, the actual conversations, assumptions, places, characters, etc. are inventions of the author. Any resemblance to people living or deceased is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-21501-0

ISBN-10: 0-595-21501-7

ISBN-978-1-4697-1612-1 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Foreword

Preface

Acknowledgements

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

About the Author

BIBLIOGRAPHY

To the editor who would not quit.

…At all times and in all countries, there are those ever ready to raise the mean and miserable cry of treason and rebellion against any man who tries to resist oppression. Even amongst the Atheist people, there were ever to be found demagogues, whose only merit was to denounce the fearlap of Satan of Antiquity, as a traitor to his country, the author of ‘civil war’…

Francis W. Pickens, July 4, 1831

Foreword  

QUOTE from Affidavit in the Edgefield Courthouse dated June 23, 2000—I, W.W. Mims, Sr., editor of The Edgefield Advertiser, and in possession of knowledge told to me by an old black man who lived in a house in the back yard of my family home many years ago, have long hoped to author a book based on this knowledge, a true story, about a slave boy on the Gov. Pickens Edgewood Plantation one and one-half miles north of the Public Square (Courthouse Square) in Edgefield, S.C.

I had the opportunity to reveal this knowledge to an associate, a writer on the staff of The Edgefield Advertiser, Rebekah Sutherland. She appeared excited as we discussed a name and the possibilities for writing a novel, titled The Slave Boy Who Refused To Work. I asked her if she would undertake the work of writing the novel, and she responded yes, accepting the offer with comments of great promise. I have provided to her knowledge that the old black man, whose name is Jim Lee, long deceased, told to me.

This knowledge has been provided to no other at any time. She and I are the sole possessors of this knowledge. Any other at any time for any reason whatsoever using this knowledge. Any other at any time for any reason whatsoever using this knowledge in any way whatsoever shall be prosecuted in a court of law for violating a right-of-use.

I further affirm that Rebekah Sutherland writing this novel shall receive all of the proceeds. No other shall be entitled to share the monetary rewards, or change in any way by some other seeking to wrongly wrest benefits from a property of knowledge used legally and exclusively by the Rebekah Sutherland, the rightful author, a libel suit will be filed in court against any person, organization or agency, involved in any way in the wrongful disturbance of this commercial right and entitlement belonging to Rebekah Sutherland and

W.W. Mims, Sr.

I also affirm that if the novel is used in any way for a movie or any form of screen play, the proceeds shall be divided reasonably under the judgement of W.W. Mims and Rebekah Sutherland, and no other involved.

W.W. Mims, Sr. June 23, 2000

Preface  

William Walton Mims, editor of The Edgefield Advertiser, suggested that I should write this book. Mr. Mims was approaching ninety years of age as he relayed a tale to me. He shared with me a true story about a slave-boy who grieved his master because he would not work. The story originated from an elderly black man in Edgefield who lived next door to Mr. Mims long ago. He knew the slave-boy.

According to the story, the slave-boy belonged to Governor Francis W. Pickens, who was known to be patient and kind with his slaves. The black man said that Gov. Pickens tried to motivate the youth and get his cooperation. Eventually, he moved the youngster into the plantation house where his wife befriended the child.

Mr. Mims placed the name of the slave-boy into an office safe, but it was accidentally misplaced over the many years while waiting for this story to be told. After spending an afternoon in Columbia, South Carolina at one of the historical museums on the campus of the University of South Carolina, I located a handwritten letter from the father of Governor Pickens which validated the tale of a slave who would not work.

While researching the history of Governor Pickens, I discovered a wealth of information with regard to a friendship that developed between the Czar of Russia and the Pickens family. I learned about the Pickens’ Russian-born daughter, Douschka. The Czar’s wife adored the child and gifted her with jewels. Those gems were later sold to fund the Confederate armies. I learned how the secret societies such as the Illuminati and the Freemasons were very active during the uprisings in both Russia and in the United States during the 1800s. Their members were influencing President Lincoln at the time of the Southern secession. The members of the secret societies promptly invaded the United States by the thousands after the war began in 1861.

Regardless of the name given to the fight (i.e., Northern Aggression, War Between the States, Civil War, etc.), the Northern and Southern states fought each other. Whether one displays a Confederate Flag or not, the fact remains that the war was fought. Many Southern families lost huge plantations, lost fathers and sons, and almost lost identity. They remain bitter to this day.

What was the cause of the war? The Russian Communist Karl Marx stated, The war between the North and the South is a tariff war. The war is further, not for any principle, does not touch the question of slavery, and in fact turns on the Northern lust for sovereignty. [SOURCE: Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The Civil War in the United States, (1861; reprint, New York, 1961), 58.]

The South never surrendered. General Lee only surrendered his army. The President of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis, was captured but never given a trial. On two separate occasions the Northern government’s prosecuting attorneys refused to enter his case into Court. They said that if the case was ever tried, then Jefferson Davis would be proven innocent and the truth about the Northern invasion against the South would be entered into the permanent record. It is a recorded fact in European and Russian documents that the Northern states ignored the constitutional provisions for proper secession. This fact is omitted in the history textbooks found in public schools throughout the United States.

Therefore, I go on the record to say that the Northern Aggression has moved into our legislatures, our churches, and our public schools. It will once again be fought in the very near future—by whom and how remains to be seen. Whether the battle will be won with a political skirmish or with guns cannot be predicted.

This is a simple novel and it is intended to be easy to read. Adults should find the information as a springboard for future research and conversation at dinner tables. Students will find the story interesting and worthy of class discussion. Our society is so fast paced today that long paragraphs with wordy detail get into the way of our enjoyment of a story; hence, this tale is fairly limited to conversation.

The facts in this historical novel are documented. The fictional characters depict people who were very real and powerful individuals. The conversations in this novel are fiction. If you have preconceived notions about slavery, then you might want to put them aside. Better yet, go to the resources listed in the bibliography, and read what the slaves themselves had to say about slavery. Learn from this story about the South, its leaders, its slaves, its women, its destiny, and the role Russia played during the Confederate uprising. Russia and the United States of America were two Christian nations in 1858. They formed a special enduring friendship through the love for a baby girl whose parents came from South Carolina.

Acknowledgements  

George and Frances Bell have provided many hours of reading, guidance, and correction to this book. Their love for Southern heritage, especially that of their homeland, South Carolina, undergirds this simple novel. The Bells have gone beyond the call of duty to assist the elderly gentleman editor of The Edgefield Advertiser who asked me to write this novel. They spend hours helping him publish his weekly newspaper; the same paper that recorded the constitutional Southern secession in 1861 and Lincoln’s genocide upon the Southern people. The Bells ask nothing in return except that others learn to love their Dixieland home. They are greatly loved and appreciated by this author.

CHAPTER 1  

Baby Andrew Janus (1817)

Mammy Cobb carefully wrapped the newborn in her soft domestic and handed him to Joe. Here, you take this baby to his Mama. He’s yours to keep. Fine looking young’un! Mammy Cobb ushered every newborn baby into the world when it chose to arrive at Oatland Plantation. Her skills were acquired from her own mother and handed down for many generations. She was proclaimed the best midwife in South Carolina and she was very proud of her abilities. Mammy scooted back into the kitchen area and began gathering her belongings and preparing for the next baby which was due very soon in a few houses down the row.

Joe reached out and firmly gathered the infant into his strong arms. It was his fifth child and he was very comfortable with handling babies. Hmm, this one is too quiet. Don’t seem to have much fight in him. Do you s’pose he will grow out of it, Mammy Cobb?

If I was you, I would count my blessings, said Mammy Cobb while she untied her apron and neatly folded it on top of her midwife bag. Some young’uns come into the world squallin’, and they never outgrow it. You’re lucky ‘cause this one seems to be a thinker. The world could use a few more thinkers.

In that case, I better be careful what I name him, said Joe as he ambled toward the bed where his wife lay. She smiled as she watched the huge muscular man try to hold the tiny six-pound creature ever so gently.

Who you got there, Joe?

I would love to introduce you to this fine gentleman, but he doesn’t have a name. Do you think we could help him?

Well, let’s see, said Martha as she raised her hands from her quilted bedding and began to count on her fingers, we already have Peter, Mary, John, and Paul.

That’s right, and we have a long way to go before we run out of good Bible names. I reckon we will have to birth about two hundred more kids if we want to use all those names.

Heaven help us! exclaimed Mammy Cobb from the corner where she was putting some sweet potatoes near the fire to cook for dinner. What you gonna do, kill me? You better not have two hundred more young’uns! You’ll be doin’ this job yourself, Mr. Joe.

Martha and Joe smiled at one another and laughed. It felt good to laugh. The morning had been tense and painful. Now was the time to celebrate. The harvest was finished for the year. The baby had arrived at a good time.

You know, I was thinking we might name this baby after a prophet. I think we have done very well with the New Testament names. What do you think about the name, Jeremiah? mused Joe as he tucked the baby’s swaddling clothes under its chin and loosened the feet a bit.

Martha wrinkled her nose and said, Oh Joe, that is such a heavy burden for a little boy. The prophets were always in despair because the people ignored them. Let’s not do that to our baby boy. Joe shrugged, Okay, let’s hear your idea. Martha searched her husband’s face for any sign of hurt feelings, but found nothing but contented happiness. What about the name Andrew? He was a fisherman who worked with his hands like we do. Besides, Master Pickens’s name is Andrew. It’s a good name.

Yes, that is possible, I reckon, said Joe as he lifted his newborn to his dark brown lips and gently nuzzled him on the cheek. It would be nice to honor your father with this child. Could we put the two names together? That would make him Janus Andrew.

Yes, I like that, said Martha. Janus Andrew it will be, and he better like to work because life is full of it! Joe kissed his son on the cheek and began his formal introduction, Mr. Janus Andrew, I would like for you to meet the most beautiful woman on the Pickens plantation. You will call her Mama. Now, Martha, I want you to meet my new son, Janus Andrew. Joe gently tucked Andrew into the bed beside Martha and patted her on the cheek. You did good, wife. Now get some rest and I’ll fetch the children from Master Pickens’s porch.

Master Pickens made it a habit to get involved with everything that happened on his plantation; from plowing the north corner to welcoming a new slave baby, it was his duty and pleasure as the proud owner. He was serving as the Governor of South Carolina, but he just had to get home from his duties to rest. It was mid-October in 1817. The legislators had been working hard since the first of September.

Early that morning Caesar, the plantation slave driver, brought him word that Martha was going to deliver. In Oatland, the custom was to bring the children away from the birthing mother and to entertain them until her labor was finished. Because Martha was an accomplished mother, he suspected it would not take too long. He decided to treat himself to some time with the children who would eventually be his workers. Besides, he liked listening to the happy chatter of children at play.

The children knew that coming up on the big porch to sit and talk with their Master was a treat. Rarely did he take time to talk with them because he was on trips or riding horseback on the property.

They were taught never to bother the Master and never to speak unless spoken to first. Master Pickens put them at ease quickly by asking them questions about fishing which was a favorite activity. Their fish tales always delighted him. In turn, he would share stories about history and they delighted with his stories about the Revolutionary War. The youngest child asked began to grow restless from sitting too long. Master Pickens sent word to the kitchen and asked the cooks to make some bacon and johnny cakes with honey.

The aroma arrived on the porch within minutes as the bacon began to sizzle in the pans. Shall we have a bite to eat? asked Master Pickens. They dutifully washed their hands in the handbasin on the porch under the scrutiny of the Master. Inside the kitchen, they climbed into the sturdy kitchen chairs which were so large that the children had to be on their knees in order to reach the table top. The cooks tucked white napkins under their chins. They washed down their breakfast with fresh milk and wiped the white mustaches from their chocolate-colored lips with the towels that lay upon their laps.

For exercise, Master Pickens invited them to take a hike with him. He wanted them to help him check on the huge bales of cotton because big ships would be taking them far across the ocean to Russia very soon.

How far away is Russia? asked Peter. He felt it his duty as the oldest to keep the conversation going, and besides, he really wanted to know.

Mr. Pickens stroked his mustache and carefully calculated his next answer. How long does it take to hatch baby chickens, Peter?

Twenty-one days, sir. My mama makes me count the days when a chicken starts to set. He was very proud that he could count and do his numbers at the ripe age of twelve. Mr. Pickens encouraged learning with his slaves because he needed them to count rows and do calculations when they grew old enough to work.

That’s right, twenty-one days. By the time it takes for you to go to Russia, you could raise about four batches of chickens.

Peter and Mary registered surprise with that thought. Russia is a long way away! exclaimed Mary. She enjoyed baby chickens. The thought of so many chicks delighted her.

I have a pet chicken, chimed in John.

Oh, you do? said Pickens.

Her name is Liz, after a Queen.

That’s a good name for a chicken, laughed Mr. Pickens. He motioned to the house slaves to come and gather the eating utensils. One of the slaves wiped the children’s hands to remove the honey which had dripped all the way to the children’s elbows. It was time for that walk he had promised.

Accompanying them on the walk was Francis Pickens, who was also twelve years old. Francis and Peter