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Article Six

In 1783, the Reverend John Mason of New York complained that “from the Constitution of the United States, it is impossible to ascertain what God we worship, or whether we own a God at all.”

From the very beginning of the experiment called The United States of America, there were those who objected to our famous “separation of church and state.” These early detractors of religious freedom wanted certain churches, or Christianity in general, to have a preferred legal status, and objected to the Constitution’s religiously neutral stance.

One particular article in question was Article Six, which guarantees that “no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States.” This was a radical departure from the practice, for example, in Great Britain, where religious dissenters were barred from holding public office.

During the Virginia state conference to ratify the Constitution, an initiative was introduced to change the article’s wording to “no other religious test shall ever be required than a belief in the one only true God…” Although this change was rejected, religious conservatives continued to press for the inclusion of more doctrinaire, confessional language.

But although all of America’s founders believed in God, each in his own way, those who eventually carried the day were much more interested in fostering freedom than in saving souls.

When a group of Roman Catholics wrote to George Washington to inquire how religious minorities would be treated under his administration, his answer was similar to the one he gave to a Jewish congregation with the same question: regardless of religious orientation, all would be “equally entitled to the protection of civil government.”

(Kowalski 16-18)

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Abolition vs. Gradual Emancipation

American slavery was widely criticized from the very beginning, and many of the nation’s founders hoped, perhaps naively, that the Peculiar Institution would soon die a natural death. But critics of slavery could never seem to agree on how the institution should best be discontinued.

The War of Independence generated a lot of public discourse concerning freedom and personal liberty, and during the last several decades of the eighteenth century, every northern state in the U.S. enacted measures to prohibit slavery. But the hoped-for natural death of slavery did not follow. Partly this was attributable to the fact that the federal government remained largely in the hands of southerners; between 1788 and 1848 all but four U.S. presidents were slaveholders.

Then, in the early nineteenth century, slavery was given a new lease on life. This was due to the sudden and spectacular growth in world demand for cotton, which quickly became the country’s most important export. Slave states and free states alike benefited from the cotton trade, and the antislavery sentiments inspired by the War for Independence soon faded in the light of these new economic considerations.

Still, slavery remained a divisive political issue, and between 1790 and 1830 dozens of antislavery proposals came before Congress. During this period, most antislavery proposals were paired with the idea of “colonization” – the removal of the black population from the United States. Advocates of this idea envisioned a nation peacefully freed from both the institution of slavery and the unwanted presence of free blacks.

Although colonization may sound far-fetched today, it was quite popular in its time, and Thomas Jefferson remained committed to the idea to his dying day. He personally proposed that the federal government purchase all slave children born each year for the purpose of deporting them – yes, infants – so that the slave population would age and eventually die out.

The first emancipation – that of slaves in the north – had contained no provision for colonization. That emancipation had been gradual rather than immediate, and usually included some sort of compensation to the owners. For example, slave children born after a certain date were required to work for the mother’s owner for a certain number of years before eventually becoming free. In effect, these slaves were required to purchase their own freedom with a period of indentured servitude.

It seems to have been assumed in the north that the former slaves would somehow just be absorbed into mainstream society. But this did not happen. Indeed, it should not be imagined that free northern blacks enjoyed either political or social equality with whites; they could neither vote, become citizens, nor serve in the armed forces. Instead, the rapid growth of the free northern black population was followed by a upsurge of anti-black sentiment among northern whites. The American Colonization Society, founded in 1816, first directed its efforts at removing free blacks from the north.

Although a few African-Americans agreed with the colonization movement, most were strongly against the idea of being deported, either voluntarily or by force, from the land of their birth. Their vision of an America of birthright citizenship and equality before the law helped to give rise to a new, militant abolitionism in the 1820s and 30s.

Abolitionism combined the energies of two impulses – black anti-colonization and white evangelicalism. It rejected gradual emancipation, compensation, and colonization, and called for immediate, uncompensated emancipation and an America that was fully biracial. Rather than spending time formulating detailed plans for emancipation, abolitionists focused on altering public opinion, using the public media of the day – lectures, petitions, and pamphlets. Abolitionist rhetoric often appealed to the heart as well the mind, exposing the day-to-day brutality of slavery as well as its weakness as an economic system.

Abolitionists diverged most widely from other critics of slavery in their vision of a post-slavery America. The first racially integrated social movement in America, abolitionism was also the first to link emancipation with equal rights.

This was a radical departure from the mainstream, and many northerners expressed their disfavor by violently attacking abolitionist meetings and destroying printing presses. Still, during the 1830s between 200,000 and 300,000 northerners joined the movement.

Colonizationists resented the spread of abolitionism, and they were responsible for instigating a series of anti-abolitionist riots that swept the north. Their main objection was that abolitionism would harm the cause of emancipation since no southerner would ever accept the idea of equal rights.

(Foner 14-22)

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Transportation in the Early U.S.

Today, most of us spend our lives moving around on paved streets and roads, and we tend to view our world as a series of locations connected by lines on a map. But the earliest European settlers in North America encountered a vast, amorphous wilderness. In this wilderness there existed no roads, nor any convenient means of transporting objects and people from place to place.

The very first roads in the US were bison paths. These were useful for human purposes, because they tended to link water sources and followed the most level routes. Similar to these were the network of Indian trails, which also followed paths of least resistance. With the help of Indians, early American colonists were able to improve these trails, widening them to accommodate wagons.

During the colonial period, mail was an extremely important means of communication. The first highway in America, the Boston Post Road, dates to 1673. It took a post rider two weeks on this unpaved road to deliver the mail from New York City to Boston. Deputy postmaster Benjamin Franklin personally toured the 500 miles of the Boston Post Road to mark the route with milestones. Eventually, all the major cities in the thirteen colonies were connected by a system of post roads.

In the late 1700s, the introduction of stagecoach passenger and mail service made road improvements necessary. By the time of the Revolutionary War, larger colonies were actively building roads, especially the type known as “corduroy” roads, constructed of wooden planks.

But after the war, federal and state governments quit building roads, and private companies took over. Land companies bought right-of-ways and cleared land to build wagon trails. The first hard-surface road in America was constructed by a private company, the Philadelphia and Lancaster Turn Pike Company. It was a 62-mile toll road from Philadelphia to Lancaster, Pennsylvania that was made of broken stones and gravel, built in 1794.

During the next forty years, private companies built many more “turn pikes,” so called because of the toll gates, known as “pikes,” at which travelers were required to stop and pay a fee. These fees went to cover the cost of road maintenance. About 3,000 miles of these roads were built in the early 1800s.

But as the 19th century progressed, interest in road construction began to wane. Toll fees could no longer cover the costs of road maintenance. The cheapest and most common means of transporting men and materials was by water. To facilitate east-west traffic, a system of canals was built. The 1840s saw the brief appearance of both the steamboat and the fast clipper ship. These technological advances caused road building to fall out of favor for a time.

America’s westward expansion was conducted mostly by horse-drawn wagon train along a few main routes. These famous pioneer trails included the Oregon Trail, the Santa Fe Trail, the California Trail and others. By the mid-1800s stagecoach passenger travel had also become commonplace; each stagecoach company developed its own preferred route to the west coast. All these “roads” were actually just crude pathways of dust and mud.

Disputes over routing helped to delay the development of overland mail service until 1857, when Congress passed an act offering mail contracts to private companies. The first contract went to Butterfield’s Southern Overland Mail; they chose the 2,795-mile Oxbow Route from St. Louis to San Francisco, with stages at ten-mile intervals. Mail service took nearly a month. The famous Pony Express offered an expensive, yet high-speed alternative – mail service in less than a week! – until the transcontinental telegraph made it obsolete in 1861.

The years following the Civil War saw the development of transcontinental railroad service, and for the remainder of the century domestic land travel in America was dominated by trains.

Most cities at that time had only crude, dirt streets filled with garbage and animal waste. While urban residents  struggled with congested, dirty, smelly city streets, rural America had to make the best of rutted, muddy or dusty earthen paths. Travel time to transport livestock or ripened crops to the nearest railhead was critical for farmers, but in favorable weather, a horse and buggy could travel only about five miles per hour along such roads.

Then in the 1890s a new invention helped to shift the nation’s focus back to the need for paved roads. That invention was the bicycle. Thousands of people got caught up in the bicycle craze of the 1890s. But because of the bad condition of most city streets, bicycle enthusiasts were forced to crowd onto the few paved surfaces that existed. Cyclists organized what was called the “Good Roads” movement, petitioning state and local governments for all-weather hard-surfaced roads and streets.

At the same time, the federal government also began to recognize the need for road improvements; after the institution of free rural postal delivery, the US Post Office was in dire need of better roads along its postal routes.

Finally, at the very end of the century, the invention of the automobile would usher in a new era of unprecedented road construction and change the landscape forever.

(Kaszynski 11-23)

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The Whiskey Rebellion

In the years between the Revolutionary War and the Civil War, the greatest threat to national unity was the Whiskey Rebellion of 1794. Although slavery had long been, and would continue to be, the most divisive political issue in the country, the Whiskey Rebellion had nothing to do with slavery. Surprisingly, it was about taxation without representation.

In order to extend the reach of the federal government and give the young nation a little more money in the bank, Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton decided to place an excise tax on whiskey.

This wasn’t some sort of “sin tax” designed to cut down on whiskey consumption. Whiskey was the main product of the trans-Appalachian region. The tax was not on the whiskey that was purchased, but on that which was produced and sold by those on living on the country’s western frontier.

The frontiersmen felt betrayed. In their eyes, the government demanding the tax had failed to provide them either roads and canals or protection from a recent wave of Indian attacks. The government was also allowing the British to continue occupying posts along the northwestern frontier. And although those on the frontier had little ready cash, Hamilton insisted on a tax paid in currency. The government seemed to be favoring wealthy eastern landowners, like George Washington himself, over the hardworking frontiersmen who were just trying to get by.

This was exactly the same objection the Founding Fathers had raised against British tyranny before the revolution: taxation without representation. The whiskey tax was specific to the western regions, which were not properly represented in the government that was imposing the tax.

What the frontiersmen did not know was that the government had recently taken steps to meet two of their objections. Major General Anthony Wayne had just won a decisive victory at the Battle of Fallen Timbers, a clear sign that Washington was indeed willing and able to provide protection from the Indians. And at the time of the revolt, Chief Justice John Jay was negotiating for the withdrawal of British troops from posts in the Northwest.

But word of these actions had not yet reached the frontiersmen.

So they revolted. They refused to pay the tax. They tarred and feathered or shot revenue officers, or burned down their houses. Their rhetoric was identical to that of the Founding Fathers; the idea of secession was implicit. Rumors circulated that the rebels were negotiating with European powers. They intended, in effect, a Second American Revolution.

President Washington had no intention of allowing the nation to be broken up, nor of losing the ownership of tens of thousands of acres of his own property in the West. So in August of 1794 he called out thirteen thousand militiamen and sent them into western Pennsylvania to put down the rebellion.

It was quickly accomplished. As the troops converged on Pittsburgh, the leaders of the rebellion fled. Two of the leaders were captured and shipped back east, where they were tried, convicted of treason, and subsequently pardoned by President Washington.

The whiskey tax was never collected. Jay’s Treaty and the victory at Fallen Timbers appeased the frontiersmen, and the threat of secession was eliminated for the time being.

(Ambrose 38-41)

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“Americans”

Citizens of the United States today are proud to claim the title of “Americans.” Most of us probably have no idea that this term was originally intended as an insult.

The term “Americans” was first used by English writers during the colonial period. They employed it as a way of referring to the colonial residents as a marginal or peripheral segment of British society, unworthy of equal status with proper Englishmen. The word was intended, and understood, as a degrading epithet; an “American” was not just a resident of the thirteen colonies, but an inferior, provincial creature.

The colonists eventually declared their independence, not to assert their rights as “Americans,” but in order to reject that designation and claim the full rights due to all British citizens.

(Ellis 10)

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The First Emancipation Proclamation

There was a time, during the American Revolution, when the abolition of slavery seemed to be just around the corner.

The Continental Army had become integrated under the leadership of George Washington, and black soldiers had continually demonstrated their valor. In Congress and among the military leaders, there was a strong assumption that emancipation must soon follow.

One giant step in this direction was Washington’s creation of the First Rhode Island Regiment. By late 1777, patriotism was waning, and the revolutionary cause was in desperate need of soldiers. While camped at Valley Forge, Washington received a message from Brigadier General James Mitchell Varnum of Rhode Island. In the message, Varnum requested permission to enlist black soldiers in his home state.

With Washington’s permission, the Rhode Island General Assembly passed an act granting enlistment eligibility to “every able-bodied Negro, Mulatto or Indian man slave.” To such, the act promised complete manumission, plus all the wages and other benefits to which any soldier was entitled. About 250 men immediately joined the First Rhode Island Regiment, which went on to fight valiantly at the Battle of Rhode Island.

Inspired by the success of the Rhode Island plan, Colonel John Laurens of South Carolina soon drafted a plan of his own. Laurens, heir to a slave-trading fortune, had become persuaded that slavery was wrong; his father Henry Laurens shared his views, and the two had discussed strategies for freeing their own slaves. Realizing that Washington’s Rhode Island plan must inevitably lead to the emancipation of Northern slaves, John hoped to accomplish the same for the South.

In the spring of 1778, John Laurens came up with a proposal to raise a force of 5,000 black soldiers who would remain slaves while in the service, and then receive their freedom at the war’s conclusion. Washington immediately approved the plan; his only regret was for the slave owners’ loss of property.

But then the senior Laurens began to have doubts, worrying that the men might not fight as long as they were still slaves. He proposed instead that they be freed immediately, then be given the choice, as free men, whether or not to serve. Given these circumstances, he presumed that most of them would choose to stay home with their families, thus defeating the stated purpose of the plan. Henry further objected on the grounds that if the proposal were made public, few would support it, and John would be exposed to ridicule. Frustrated by his father’s resistance, John Laurens put his plan aside.

By the end of the year, with Southern loyalists rallying to the British cause, the British had captured Savannah, Georgia. Rumors circulated that they were poised to take South Carolina as well. With his home state facing danger, John Laurens revived his plan for a black regiment. Encouraged by his good friend Alexander Hamilton, Laurens refined his original plan, and in March of 1779 he contacted General Washington.

Given Washington’s earlier support of his idea, and the success of the Rhode Island plan, Laurens surely expected that the commander in chief would give his endorsement. But he was disappointed.

Washington had had a change of heart. He now feared, not that the plan would not succeed,but that it would succeed too well. He seems to have feared the consequences for his own slave property. In his letter to Laurens he wrote:

“I am not clear that a discrimination will not render Slavery more irksome to those who remain in it; most of the good and evil things of this life are judged of by comparison; and I fear a comparison in this case will be productive of much discontent in those who are held in servitude.”

He had realized that the existence of free black battalions would make it impossible to preserve the institution of slavery any longer. Paralyzed between financial considerations and his own conscience, he resisted a plan that might lead to the loss of his own property, despite very compelling military necessity.

The window that had opened at Valley Forge, when Washington had seen fit to include black men in the revolutionary cause, had closed again.

John Laurens did not give up. By now it was clear to everyone that emancipation, rather than enlistment, was primarily at issue. Nevertheless, some Southern leaders were willing to tolerate emancipation, simply because of the dire need for troops. Supported by powerful allies, Laurens submitted his proposal, and on March 29, 1779, the Continental Congress unanimously passed what could be called the first Emancipation Proclamation. According to the resolution, congress would compensate slave owners in Georgia and South Carolina up to $1000 apiece for every able-bodied male slave up to 35 years of age who could pass muster. At war’s end, each black soldier would be expected to turn in his arms in exchange for his freedom.

While no one expected an immediate general emancipation, the revolutionary implications of the resolution were clear to everyone. Congress was laying the foundation for the abolition of slavery in America.

Now all the plan needed was the consent of the Georgia and South Carolina legislatures.

Their answer was immediate. The Southern plantation owners would see their region fall to the British before they would agree to arm three thousand slaves.

As a direct result of South Carolina’s failure to produce a black regiment, Charleston fell to the British. The city was reduced to rubble, and John Laurens himself was captured and imprisoned.

He still did not give up. After being released in a prisoner exchange, he continued to promote his plan, without avail, until 1782.

America’s victory in the war for independence meant there would be no Southern emancipation for another eighty years.

(Wiencek 217-236)

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The Poem That Changed Washington’s Mind

Shortly after the Second Continental Congress elected George Washington commander-in-chief of the American military forces, he began a systematic policy for barring black men from military service.

Black soldiers had already distinguished themselves in the patriotic cause. But as a Southern white plantation owner, Washington was understandably alarmed at the idea of giving arms to black freedmen and slaves; the prospect of a slave uprising must have been ever before him. And while there is no record that the common white soldier in New England objected to serving alongside black soldiers, many of the upper-class officers believed it dishonorable to include blacks, whether slave or free.

So in November of 1775, Washington issued a general order that excluded all black men from enlisting.

Yet in December of the same year, he suddenly reversed his policy. He issued another order, allowing free black men the right to enlist in the army.

It was a surprising, rather contrary move, and a rare instance of George Washington changing his mind about anything, ever. The change was apparently not for practical reasons, such as needing more soldiers or the concern that blacks would join the English cause. In writing to John Hancock about his decision, Washington explained that it was due rather to the numbers of black soldiers who had approached him to complain of their dissatisfaction at being excluded.

For the first time in his life, Washington had responded in a fair way to an appeal from free black men. What happened to change his mind?

Shortly before Christmas of 1775, Washington received a letter in the mail at his headquarters in Cambridge. Enclosed in the letter were forty-two lines of elegant verse in flawless iambic pentameter. Full of classical allusions, the poem concluded:

Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side,
Thy ev’ry action let the goddess guide.

A crown, a mansion, and a throne that shine,
With gold unfading, WASHINGTON! be thine.”

The lines were written by the woman who was, at that time, the most famous slave in America.

Phillis Wheatley was also the first black person, and only the third American woman, to publish a book of poems. Born in Africa, she was purchased at around age six by the wife of a wealthy Boston tailor and merchant, Susannah Wheatley. While shopping for slaves at the dock, Mrs. Wheatley became captivated by the tiny, wretched child she saw there, dressed only in a scrap of carpet. She purchased the little girl, took her home, nursed her back to health, and gave her the name Phillis, after the name of the ship that had brought her to America.

Phillis had been intended for a household servant, but she soon showed signs of an uncommon intelligence, so the family’s teenaged daughter took it upon herself to teach the child to read and write. Soon she was learning Latin, and by the age of nine was occasionally acting as the family secretary. She began writing poetry just four years after her arrival in Boston, and at seventeen gained wide attention in the colonies for her elegiac poem on the death of George Whitefield. Three years later a collection of her poems was published in London.

Washington was extraordinarily moved upon receiving Wheatley’s letter and poem. So moved, in fact, that he broke the rules of social contact between masters and slaves. He wrote a letter back to her, inviting her to visit him in Cambridge.

It was shortly after meeting Phillis Wheatley that Washington made the extraordinary decision to allow blacks to enlist in his army.

(Wiencek 198-215)

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