Baltimore and the Nineteenth of April, 1861: A Study of the War

by George William Brown

Both from feeling and on principle I had always been opposed to slavery—the result in part of the teaching and example of my parents, and confirmed by my own reading and observation. In early manhood I became prominent in defending the rights of the free colored people of Maryland. In the year 1846 I was associated with a small number of persons, of whom the Rev. William F. Brand, author of the "Life of Bishop Whittingham," and myself, are the only survivors. The other members of the association were Dr. Richard S. Steuart, for many years President of the Maryland Hospital for the Insane, and himself a slaveholder; Galloway Cheston, a merchant and afterwards President of the Board of Trustees of the Johns Hopkins University; Frederick W. Brune, my brother-in-law and law-partner; and Ramsay McHenry, planter. We were preparing to initiate a movement tending to a gradual emancipation within the State, but the growing hostility between the North and the South rendered the plan wholly impracticable, and it was abandoned.

My opinions, however, did not lead me into sympathy with the abolition party. I knew that slavery had existed almost everywhere in the world, and still existed in some places, and that, whatever might be its character elsewhere, it was not in the Southern States "the sum of all villainy." On the contrary, it had assisted materially in the development of the race. Nowhere else, I believe, had negro slaves been so well treated, on the whole, and had advanced so far in civilization. They had learned the necessity, as well as the habit, of labor; the importance—to some extent at least—of thrift; the essential distinctions between right and wrong, and the inevitable difference to the individual between right-doing and wrong-doing; the duty of obedience to law; and—not least—some conception, dim though it might be, of the inspiring teachings of the Christian religion. They had learned also to cherish a feeling of respect and good will towards the best portion of the white race, to whom they looked up, and whom they imitated.

I refused to enlist in a crusade against slavery, not only on constitutional grounds, but for other reasons. If the slaves were freed and clothed with the right of suffrage, they would be incapable of using it properly. If the suffrage were withheld, they would be subjected to the oppression of the white race without the protection afforded by their masters. Thus I could see no prospect of maintaining harmony without a disastrous change in our form of government such as prevailed after the war, in what is called the period of reconstruction. If there were entire equality, and an intermingling of the two races, it would not, as it seemed to me, be for the benefit of either. I knew how strong are race prejudices, especially when stimulated by competition and interest; how cruelly the foreigners, as they were called, had been treated by the people in California, and the Indians by our people everywhere; and how, in my own city, citizens were for years ruthlessly deprived by the Know-Nothing party of the right of suffrage, some because they were of foreign birth, and some because they were Catholics. The problem of slavery was to me a Gordian knot which I knew not how to untie, and which I dared not attempt to cut with the sword. Such a severance involved the horrors of civil war, with the wickedness and demoralization which were sure to follow.

I was deeply attached to the Union from a feeling imbibed in early childhood and constantly strengthened by knowledge and personal experience. I did not believe in secession as a constitutional right, and in Maryland there was no sufficient ground for revolution. It was clearly for her interest to remain in the Union and to free her slaves. An attempt to secede or to revolt would have been an act of folly which I deprecated, although I did believe that she, in common with the rest of the South, had constitutional rights in regard to slavery which the North was not willing to respect.

It was my opinion that the Confederacy would prove to be a rope of sand. I thought that the seceding States should have been allowed to depart in peace, as General Scott advised, and I believed that afterwards the necessities of the situation and their own interest would induce them to return, severally, perhaps, to the old Union, but with slavery peacefully abolished; for, in the nature of things, I knew that slavery could not last forever.

Whether or not my opinions were sound and my hopes well founded, is now a matter of little importance, even to myself, but they were at least sincere and were not concealed.

There can be no true union in a Republic unless the parts are held together by a feeling of common interest, and also of mutual respect.

That there is a common interest no reasonable person can doubt; but this is not sufficient; and, happily, there is a solid basis for mutual respect also.

I have already stated the grounds on which, from their point of view, the Southern people were justified in their revolt, and even in the midst of the war I recognized what the South is gradually coming to recognize—that the grounds on which the Northern people waged war—love of the Union and hatred of slavery—were also entitled to respect.

I believe that the results achieved—namely, the preservation of the Union and the abolition of slavery—are worth all they have cost.