The Hermitage, Home of Old Hickory

by Stanley F. Horn

Jackson truly loved all his horses, and was especially fond of Truxton; and, so tradition goes, Truxton returned his affection. Not a night went by that the General did not go himself to the stables before retiring for the night to see that Truxton was all right; and when Truxton grew old and unruly, there was never a time when Jackson could not control him, no matter how ugly his mood.

And, tragically enough, it was Truxton who was the indirect cause of placing the General in one of the most unfortunate crises of his life; for it was the race between Truxton and Ploughboy in 1805 which was the ostensible cause of the fatal duel in which Jackson killed young Charles Dickinson.

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In the Presidential campaign of 1828 General Jackson was referred to by the friendly press as “The Farmer of Tennessee;” but this phrase was not used in a spirit of praise by all the newspapers of the day. For instance, a typically partisan editorial in the New York American said:

Let us see what is the Farmer of Tennessee? Possessing a fine and extensive domain with a vast mansion, not a farm-house but The Hermitage, surrounded by a host of slaves—this farmer of Tennessee eats the bread of idleness and luxury. The whip of the overseer quickens the servile labors whereby he—one of those priviliged beings born to consume the fruits of the earth—is sustained; and men, immortal as himself, are daily “driven a-field” like oxen and their strength taxed to the uttermost, perhaps, that he, their master, may add another race-horse to his stud or stake an additional bet upon a favorite game-cock. Of personal labor the hands of this “farmer” are innocent; for, where slavery exists, labor is held to degrade the white man.

Andrew Jackson had his faults, and he was open to criticism from many angles; but to hold him up as an example of the cruel and heartless type of Southern slaveholder was to confess an utter ignorance of his attitude towards his slaves. The records tell of a slave named Sam at the Hermitage whom Jackson freed in 1816 but who refused to leave the place.

Nowhere in his public writings or in his private correspondence does Jackson give any evidence of ever questioning the legitimacy of the institution of slavery; but throughout all his letters there are innumerable indications of his inflexible determination to see that his slaves were treated humanely and fairly. Upon learning of the death of one of them in 1829, for instance, he immediately wrote to Andrew instructing him “to examine minutely into this matter, and if the death was produced by the cruelty of Mr. Steel have him forthwith discharged.” Going on, he says: “When I employed Mr. Steel I charged him upon this subject and had expressed in our agreement that he was to treat them with great humanity, feed and clothe them well and work them in moderation. If he has deviated from this rule he must be discharged.” Later, following Andrew’s report of his investigation, the General wrote expressing great gratification that the death had not resulted from the overseer’s cruelty.

In 1833, while he was still in Washington, two more slaves died, and William Donelson wrote the General expressing the opinion that the deaths had grown out of lack of proper medical attention. Immediately Jackson was on the warpath again. He wrote Andrew strongly urging him to investigate the charges of neglect; and, to make doubly sure of getting the facts, he wrote to his old and trusted friend Major William B. Lewis, asking him to look into the matter and let him know what was going on. Major Lewis made a typically thorough and painstaking investigation and his letter, reporting conditions as he found them, gives such a clear and interesting detailed account of life on a Tennessee plantation of a century ago that it is worth preserving in its entirety:

I have this moment returned from a visit to the Hermitage. I left home after an early breakfast and got up there between ten and eleven o’clock, where I remained until after breakfast this morning.

It is with pleasure I inform you that I found every individual, big and little, well, except Hannah, Sally’s eldest child, and she, I was told by the overseer and her mother, was getting better. I had her brought to the house so that I might see her myself and ascertain, if I could, the nature of her complaint. I was apprehensive from what Mr. Holtzclaw told me that she was afflicted with the hip complaint, such as Major Barry’s son had; but on interrogating her and her mother as to the origin of the disease I am inclined to think it is something else. Mr. Holtzclaw and some of the black people think it is the white swelling. Her mother told me when she first complained of a pain in the hip she examined her and found a large lump in her groin having the appearance of what is called a waxen kernel. She also told me she complained not only of pain in the hip but also in the thick or muscular part of the thigh, and particularly the knee. As I do not know how those who have the hip complaint are affected, I can not say whether these are synptoms of that disease or not. When she was first taken, Sally tells me, she could not walk at all and suffered much pain. She can now walk a little, and her pains are not so distressing. Indeed she told me she suffered little or no pain except of nights. I thought this was owing probably to her taking too much exercise in the day, and I told her she must walk very little on her leg until it got better. I also charged her mother to keep her from exercising too much. She is a very pretty little girl, and as she will no doubt make a valuable servant if she lives and gets well I have some thought of getting Dr. Hogg to ride up and see her, for I am apprehensive Dr. McCorkle does not understand the nature of her complaint. If she should require any personal attention afterwards she might be brought down (to Nashville) and left with her grandmother who lives on Parson’s lot, College Hill, and would take good care of her. The old woman (old Aunt Nanny, you know) was up to see her not long since, the overseer informed me, and was very anxious to take her down with her, but that he did not feel authorized to let her go. When next you write to me let me know your wishes with regard to this matter and Hannah will be treated in all respects as you may direct.

The farm is in pretty good order. The fences all look strong and good, and particularly the outer ones. I was told by the negroes that nearly all the fencing on the Donelson lands had been repaired—most of it, also, round the caney field. I did not see them but I have no doubt it is so. Some of the fences around the lots and stables have also been repaired, as well as the outer fence north of your brick negro houses. I think there is no fault to be found with any portion of the fencing—some few of the fences about the lots which need it have not yet been repaired; but the overseer says he intends giving his attention to them the first wet spell. He has made you some ten or twelve new gates and hung them. They are well made and well hung.

The house looks, I presume, pretty much as it did when you were here last summer. I thought that perhaps it had not been sufficiently aired, and I directed Hannah, who seems to have charge of it, to open the doors and windows whenever the weather is dry and pleasant. The yard and garden look badly—neither is attended to as they should be. This, however, is more Dick’s fault than the overseer’s, as he has necessarily been much and constantly engaged in getting in his crop and withal I suspect he has very little taste for gardening. I told Dick he must put the garden in order forthwith and keep it so; that the walks, borders and squares must all be cleaned and kept so. The overseer promised me that in future he would pay more attention to Dick and the garden and yard.

Finding the yard pretty much grown up with weeds, indeed the back part of it entirely taken with the green plantain, I directed the overseer to take his hoes into it the first rain that fell and scrape the whole of it over, not leaving a weed or spear of grass inside of the paling in front or rear of the house, and to keep it so until the last of September when he must chop it over lightly and sow it down thickly with good blue grass seed unmixed with any other. These orders were given because I did not calculate on your visiting the Hermitage this summer; and by the next, if the blue grass seed comes up well, it will look much better than it now does or ever has done.

As you requested, I looked also at the monument in the garden. Its appearance is very good, but I do not think it is finished entirely as it should be. The circular stones which rest upon the columns should also be plastered in the interior as is the case with the dome above. This is necessary in order to hide the joints and rough appearance of the stonework. There are also many rough places and little holes in the columns themselves, owing to defects in the stones, which should be filled up and nicely painted over. In addition to this, I would suggest that neat little iron railing be thrown around it at the distance of four feet from the base of the monument and paved all around with nicely dressed flagstones similar to those which cover the tombs. This would not cost very much and would give a handsome finish to the monument, which I think quite tasty and appropriate.

I sent for old Aunt Hannah, who has charge of the poultry, and told her that you had been very mortified at finding on your return to the Hermitage no fowls or poultry of any kind for the use of the table, and that you wished me to say to her that you hoped it would never be the case again. She assured me that she would do her best to raise a plentiful supply, but said that her chickens and turkeys died very much with the gapes which, with everything she could do, she could not prevent. The overseer, she said, had built her a good house and she expected now she would be able to take better care of them. She has a very good stock of turkeys to raise from. I counted twelve hens and four gobblers; and, as I understood from her, she has a pretty good supply of chickens, etc.

I inquired of the overseer with regard to your horses, cattle, hogs and sheep. He told me his work horses were in very good order and were sufficient to tend his crop. He runs at this time 17 plows, but says that if necessary he can run 19. I sent also for Ben who, I was told, had charge of the plow horses, and inquired of him as to their condition. He said they all were in pretty good order and were thriving. He informed me that they had lost a young mule but did not seem to think that blame should attach to anyone. I saw some of the plow horses myself and if the balance are in as good order they will do very well. The overseer informed me that he had 60 grown cows and yearlings and 22 young calves, making altogether of all descriptions 82. The cattle look as well as is usual for this season of the year. He has about 300 head of hogs; of this number there will be, he thinks, about 80 or 90 large enough to kill next fall, which he hopes will be sufficient or nearly so for the use of the farm. He further informed me that of the 300 head, 100 of them were pigs not more than a month old. Your flock of sheep look very well. I inquired of Mr. Holtzclaw the number. He told me there were 92 old sheep and 59 lambs.

I paid Dunn a visit at his stables and looked at all his horses and colts, and I assure you that I was much pleased and gratified at their appearance. The horse Citizen is in fine order and condition; he is really a beautiful animal. The two three-year old fillies are also in fine condition. I think the one by Stockholder much the finest of the two, but the other is also a fine animal. His colts too (three in number) are in good order and very playful. Indeed, all of his horses are quite fat, as much so as there is any use for. One of your mares, the overseer informed me, was in Williamson (County) and as he would have soon to send for her he wishes me to say to you that he would want some money—$40 I think he said—to pay for her season and keeping.

Upon the whole, if Mr. Holtzclaw will hold out as he has begun I think he will make you a good crop, if he has a good stand of cotton and the season suits, and take very good care of your stock. He feels, however, considerable uneasiness with regard to his cotton crop—he is afraid his stand will not be a good one. His seed, he says, were not good, nor could he get those that were good anywhere. He finished planting yesterday, the 20th of April, while I was at the Hermitage. He says he could have planted a week earlier, but not having confidence in the soundness of his seed he did not like to risk them sooner. He will finish planting his corn tomorrow. He tells me he has 200 acres in cotton, considerably upwards of 300 acres in corn, and something like 120 or 130 acres in oats. He has his sweet potatoes planted, and in the piece of fresh land on the left hand of the gate as you approach the house. I enquired of him particularly about your meadows and timothy. He says no hay, he is afraid, can be made off them. Indeed, he says one piece (adjoining the lot Dunn’s stables are in) was so taken with weeds that he found it necessary to plow it up and put it in corn. He thinks that by tending it well this summer the weeds may be killed; and then, by sowing it down again in timothy, it might bring good grass. I looked at the ground, and by its appearance I have no doubt he done right in ploughing it up—it must have been very much taken by weeds. He has not ploughed up the other, but he is afraid it will not make hay. He say it was badly rooted up by the pigs and hogs last fall, and has now more weeds than grass in it. Your two fields of clover look very well, and a good deal of hay can be made off one of them (the one opposite the cotton gin) as Mr. Holtzclaw intends mowing it. The other, he says, he is obliged to pasture.

I enquired of Mr. Holtzclaw about the sickness on the place in the early part of the spring and the cause of so many negroes dying. He told me that he thought the cholera had visited that neighborhood, and that some of your negroes had died of that disease, particularly Titus, whose death he seemed very much to regret as he was a fine hand and a most valuable servant. He did not seem, however, to be satisfied in his own mind that either the girl or the two Samsons died of that disease. He says Dr. McCorkle saw Titus on the Sunday evening before his death and said he was well again and would be able to go to work on Monday morning. At 11 o’clock Sunday night he was a corpse. Now, my dear sir. I doubt very much whether the cholera has ever been at the Hermitage or its neighborhood. I heard of its being nowhere else, except a reported case on Major Donelson’s farm. Mr. Donelson’s negro, who was supposed to be attacked with the cholera, recovered and is now well. I think Titus must have died of some other disease.

I had heard at Nashville that Mr. Holtzclaw was very severe with the negroes, but from my own observation and what the negroes themselves told me while there I think probably he is not more so than is necessary. Where there are so many negroes there must be a pretty rigid police. I told him that I had heard of his severity, but I hoped he had given no foundation for such reports about him. I added that you knew the necessity of keeping order on the place and among the negroes, but that I was sure that you did not wish nor would you permit your negroes knowingly to be treated with cruelty. I hoped therefore that he would not use towards them an unnecessary severity. He assured me that he had not and would not. I told him if an overseer would be constantly himself with his hands very little whipping would be required. The best way of managing negroes, according to my experience, was to treat them kindly when they done well, and to punish them reasonably when they misbehaved; but that he might be assured that no negroes would conduct themselves well who were left too much to themselves—that someone for whom they had either respect or fear should always be near at hand. He concurred with me in this opinion and said that he scarcely ever was off the place unless obliged by business.

Your negroes evidently are better clad than they were under Mr. Steele’s administration. They informed me that they all got their quantum of winter clothing, and most of them have already been furnished with their summer clothing. I did not see a single child even on the place that was not well clad, and Mr. Holtzclaw informed me that there were 58 of them. He keeps his wheel constantly going, and he informed me that it spins six or seven yards every day—besides the spinning ginney that he says he keeps constantly going.

I believe, my dear General, I have given you all the information I have with regard to the Hermitage, its culture and management. If there should be anything else you wish me to attend to, let me know and it shall be done.

The old General was mollified by Major Lewis’s painstaking report of conditions at the Hermitage, and wrote him thanking him for relieving him of the “great anxiety and pain” under which he had been laboring as a result of the reports he had been receiving of the overseer’s excessive severity. Regarding Hannah, the little girl with the sore hip, he wrote: