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PUBLICATION 4 - 1968 JOHN B. FLOYD
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| In a rural society any event which gives men an excuse for congregating is always tinged with excitement. Until the inexorable march of industrialism provided more frequent and more regularized means of bringing men together, nothing could surpass the court days either in hearty good fellowship or in exuberant violence. Stories were exchanged, horses and knives were traded, whiskey was drunk, and fights were provoked. (1) When the February term of court convened in Abingdon, Virginia, in 1861, there was a new element of excitement and contention injected into an already explosive situation. Charging Northern aggression against their domestic institutions, seven states of the Lower South had found secession preferable to remaining in the Union under the rule of Lincoln and the Republican party. South Carolina had been out of the Union since December 20 and had been followed by five of her neighbors at intervals throughout the month of January. Now word had just been received that Texas had dissolved its bonds with the government in Washington. Not one of the hundreds of men who poured into the little county seat was without an opinion as to what his state ought to do. An observant stranger circulating among the knots of earnest, gesticulating men would probably have decided that, on the issue of secession or union, opinion was about evenly divided. He would also have experienced a sudden sense of apprehension when, without warning, the steady drone of argument stopped, and all eyes turned to a piece of fluttering cloth suspended across the street. Someone had raised the flag of the Confederacy. The moment of quiet was replaced by the cheering of the secessionists mingled with the outraged cries of the unionists. Above the din could be heard the voice of William B. Clark, descendant of one who fought at King's Mountain, urging those who were loyal to the Union to tear down "that damned rag." There were as many prepared to carry out this suggestion as there were those to prevent it. Only the timely intervention of one of the town's patriarchs prevented the shedding of blood. (2) The forces which would result in four years of total war were clearly present in Southwest Virginia. In explaining the presence of secessionist sentiment in this isolated and mountainous region, most of the usual reasons prove inadequate. In the eight counties which extreme Southwest Virginia, the Negro population, free and slave, constituted less than eleven percent of the total. (3) Here was no insuperable obstacle to emancipation and no cause for fear of servile insurrection. It was an area of sheep-raising and grain-growing where cotton was neither king nor even subject. Although a few families had sufficient land to enable them to affect a pseudo-plantation atmosphere, the heart of the economy lay in the efforts of the small farmer who had the mountaineer's distrust of pretension. It cannot be said that the Southwestern area was inherently subservient to those who controlled the state government three hundred miles to the east. It had fought successfully for manhood suffrage, for internal improvements, and for tax adjustment. It possessed a healthy two-party system and was accorded all the respect due to section that often wielded the balance of power. Southwest Virginia was bordered on three sides by Eastern Tennessee, Southern Kentucky, and the area which would become West Virginia. All these neighbors revealed striking similarities to her in geography and in economic interests, and all of them were pervaded by a strong unionist sentiment throughout the four years of conflict. Yet when the time came to make the decision for union or secession, "Little Tennessee," as the politicians called this section of Virginia, would find itself aligned with the secessionist cause. In explaining this seeming anomaly, one might turn to a study of a prominent resident of this area who was in the main-stream of events in the decade before Sumter. Even if he had possessed no personal ambition, John Buchanan Floyd's family ties would have been enough to have thrust him into a position of leadership in almost any society. He was born in Montgomery County, Virginia, on June 1, 1806. His father, John Floyd, was an intelligent and forceful governor of Virginia and was also an eminent physician, having studied with Benjamin Rush. His mother was Letitia Preston, a shrewd and capable woman who could run the Governor's Mansion and preside over the family salt mines with equal facility. (4) Through birth and through marriage his connections thus included the Prestons and the Johnstons, families with enormous political and military prestige both in Virginia and in South Carolina. At the insistence of his father, young John B. Floyd was sent to South Carolina College for his education. There he had an opportunity to strengthen his ties with relatives living in that state, and to display an unusual intelligence and facility of expression. He also revealed a certain petulance which would remain with him throughout his life. (5) Upon graduation he married his cousin, Sallie Preston, and established a law practice in Wytheville, Virginia. He soon found himself caught up in the flood of adventurers who passed daily through the streets of Wytheville on their way to Cumberland Gap and the opportunities of the newly-opened west. He arrived in Arkansas in time to have his plans wrecked by the panic of 1837 and by an outbreak of fever among his slaves. Between April and August of that year, his medical expenses alone amounted to $260. (6) He ultimately lost forty slaves, about forty thousand dollars, and his own health. After this disaster, he returned to his brother's home at Burke's Garden, Virginia, where the clear air was credited with speeding his recovery. By the summer of 1839 he was hard at work with his brothers in an effort to repair the family fortune. With "beef selling at enormous prices everywhere," they determined to buy cattle. It was, however, exceedingly difficult for a man with a forty thousand dollar debt to come by the needed capital, and Floyd "...found it impossible to make any negotiations with any of the Banks for a single dollar." (7) After meeting with indifferent success in this family venture, John B. Floyd moved in 1842 to Abingdon where he practiced law. He could soon write to his mother. "My success here has been beyond what I could have calculated upon. I feel that I am making my way in spite of many obstacles...There is nothing I think lacking for me here but industry and constancy. These requisites you know are difficult to me for I am lazy and national. But I hope I have nevertheless manliness enough to stick to the true course. My practice in this county has been worth to me since I came here a thousand dollars whereas I only calculated on four hundred - and it is still increasing." (8) Anyone who reads the correspondence of the Nineteenth Century is struck by the emphasis which is placed upon the concept of "manliness." Every human action was characterized as "manly" or "unmanly". What reaction this would have upon the attitudes of Southern manhood at the time of Sumter or Lincoln's call for troops is incalculable. That Floyd was thoroughly imbued with this spirit is seen further in this letter to his mother. "The cloud my dear mother which covers us now is indeed to all appearances a thick & a dark one but I do not despair - far from it - the fury of the storm has already been expended and we can now begin to look around at the effects of it. What are they? Yours sons are stripped of their property but there is no blot upon one of them. I know and feel that their standing as men is uninjured and untouched." (9) In spite of his beliefs to the contrary, Floyd found not only financial solvency in Abingdon, but he also found a place in its society. For example, he soon became involved in its church affairs. When a conference of the Methodist Church sought to deprive one Rev. Thomas Stringfield of his "ordination parchments" for selling a slave, Floyd was one of those who interceded in his behalf. Stringfield's wife was the actual owner and the sale was a forced one in satisfaction of a judgment for a debt. A committee consisting of Colonel David Campbell, General Peter Johnston, eldest brother of Joseph E. Johnston and the brother of John B. Floyd's sister's husband, and Floyd himself entered the room where the Methodist Conference was meeting and announced that it was their duty to inform them."...that such an abolitionist body as this cannot sit in the state of Virginia." (10) The case of Stringfield was speedily reviewed and he was restored to full status. By 1847, Floyd had been elected to the House of Delegates and had achieved the rank of captain in the Virginia militia. In 1848, he campaigned throughout "Little Tennessee" for Lewis Cass, accusing the Whigs of "...attempting to practice the deceptions of 1840 upon the people." Although the Richmond Enquirer could never be accused of impartiality, this description of Floyd as a budding politician is of some interest: "If you were ever to hear Floyd once at the forum, you would want to hear him again. He never fails to illustrate his views by anecdotes, which are inimitable, throughout his addresses. We have in him a zealous, able and eloquent standard bearer, without fear and without reproach." (11) It was during this campaign that the talents of John B. Floyd came to the attention of Henry A. Wise, an ambitious politician whose chief strength lay in his championing of a program of internal improvements for the western sections of Virginia. In exchange for this support, the west was expected to help maintain the position of the eastern slave-holders. (12) There was need for increased solidarity between the sections of the state. There had been a split in the Democratic party in Virginia when the followers of Calhoun opposed the Mexican War. (13) There was then a danger of creating in miscrocosm the situation which would ultimately dissolve the Union: the building of a sectional party in Virginia which would favor territorial expansion and internal improvements while opposing slaver. Because of a rapid growth in white population relative to that of the Tidewater section, the western sections were already challenging the stagnant east. So long as Virginia remained one of the two states without universal manhood suffrage, the shift in power could be temporarily forestalled. There was however, already agitation for a constitutional convention to remove this anachronism. Seeing the handwriting on the wall, the shrewd Henry A. Wise and others began a campaign to cement Southwest Virginia to the interests of the Eastern Shore. They did this with prizes such as the Southwestern Turnpike, a macadamized road which would begin in Salem and extend through Wytheville and Abingdon to the Tennessee line. (14) Another effort at solidarity was the election of John B. Floyd to the governorship in December 1848. In the election, the last by the legislature, Floyd was elected as a western man with eastern principles - a lateral doughface, as it were. The delegates from those counties which would soon comprise West Virginia rejected him almost to a man as did those who represented the Valley. With few exceptions, his support came from those areas of heavy slave concentration in the east and from the mountain counties of "Little Tennessee." (15) When Governor Floyd opened the General Assembly of 1849, he recommended the calling of a convention to construct a new state constitution. The call for free manhood suffrage, the popular election of state and county officials, and certain each section would have its distinct motives. In the East, the Jacksonian wing of the Democratic party wanted the support of the growing laboring class, whereas their western counterparts were interested in a system of representation which would be more sensitive to their sectional needs. Even the Whigs, out of power and feeling that any change would be for the better, supported the general movement. (16) John B. Floyd's brother, Benjamin Rush, delegate from Wythe County, took a leading part in the convention. The interests of the western section are seen in the report of one of his speeches: "We had been asked by the gentlemen from Fauquier 'how long was the patience of the East to be abused by the eternal clamor of the West for the control of their purse strings.' Not a moment replied Mr. F. That was not what they wanted. They clamored for justice, for right, for their political equality, and would never desist until it was obtained. 'Why should not 500 western voters have as much political power and influence as 500 western.'" (17) The new constitution proved to be popular in "Little Tennessee" with 3,785 votes cast for it and only 360 against. The adoption was a victory for the western leaders and their Jacksonian allies in the East. (18) Another victory for Floyd and Southwest Virginia came when the General Assembly incorporated the Virginia and Tennessee Railroad Company in the 1849 session. (19) John B. Floyd achieved at least several of his purposes during his term. A new constitution had been brought forth around which all sections of the state could rally. East-West differences had been minimized by the chattering of a railroad which would stimulate commerce and communication between the two sections. If Floyd's tenure also strengthened what one historian has called the "Abingdon-Columbia, S. C. axis," (20) it also brought solidarity to his own state and stilled the sectional controversies which had long agitated the General Assembly. These accomplishments seemed to appease, for the time at least, the feeling of alienation and failure which had plagued Floyd earlier. As he neared the end of his term, he wrote to his mother: "If I have in your estimation, lived not altogether unworthy of my father's character, then indeed I am satisfied, and I hope it may be excused in me saying to my mother that I feel I have done something towards rekindling a spirit in Virginia (towards)...progress and improvement." (21) At the end of his gubernatorial term, John B. Floyd returned to Abingdon where he lived quietly as a county seat lawyer. He was induced to resume on active political career, however, by the rise of the Know Nothing party which, with growing popularity in the eastern section of the state, threatened to crack the solidarity which Floyd had labored to achieve. The first trial of strength in the South for the new party would come in the gubernatorial election of 1856. Floyd's friend, Henry A. Wise, would run against Thomas A. Flourney, who bore the Whig-Know Nothing banner. This would be a supreme test of Wise's long-range strategy of sectional cooperation, and Floyd and his friends were confident that they could deliver the votes. The Abingdon Democrat reflected their optimism: "Since Mr. Wise made his appearance in the Southwest, everything has put on a bright and flattering appearance...The Abolition Know Nothing concern is growing 'small by degrees and beautifully less...' Let Eastern Virginia but half do her duty, let Mr. Wise be but half sustained...and we will make up all your shortcomings in the West...Scarce a trace of Know Nothingism will be left in Little Tennessee. On Monday (the Know Nothing candidate for the State Senate) spoke at our Courthouse, and was replied to (by) Ex. Governor Floyd - and such a skinning, 'Oh, Lordy!' Governor Floyd is tanning hides at a round rate..." (22) With the supercharged oratory, the violent editorials, and the "tanning of hides," there was no facet of daily life which did not take on political significance. When the chief engineer of the projected railroad visited in Abingdon in the spring of 1855, he was apparently indiscreet enough to betray some political preferences. The Abingdon Democrat immediately charged that "he knew all about Know Nothingism and nothing about the work of which he had charge." It was assumed that the Know Nothings, who were by this time called "abolutionists" by the Democrat, were deliberately sabotaging the railroad construction, or so the unsuspecting voter was supposed to believe. "It is important that the voters should know that Messrs. Floyd and (William K.) Heiskell are in favor of completing the railroad and that speedily," the newspaper declared. "Whey they go down to the Legislature next winter they will suggest prompt and effective measures to remedy the many abuses which have crept into the management of our public works." (23) Every age must have its public heroes and, in the Nineteenth Century, this place was largely filled by the politicians. They were the entertainers, the gladiators, and the preceptors who added a touch of glamor, humor, and vicarious excitement to an otherwise drab, melancholy, and sickly age. Something of the place occupied by the politician is seen in an editorial appearing int he Democrat under the title, "A Dangerous Character Abroad." "Our sympathies for Governor Floyd were deeply excited by reading the graphic description of the discussion at Jonesville, Lee County, between that gentleman and Mr. George E. Naff, published in the last issue of the organ of the abolitionists. It will hardly be believed, we know, but Governor Floyd was badly used up...But seriously, it is a good joke; Mr. George E. Naff demolished Gov. Floyd in a discussion of Lee Courthouse! O, cruel, cruel Naff!" (24) Floyd campaigned energetically throughout the summer, speaking at Abingdon and in other county seats. In August, he addressed a "quiet and respectful" audience in Lebanon. The Abingdon Democrat reported it with its accustomed partisan exaggeration: "He then spoke of Know-Nothingism and the objectionable manner of its proscriptive policy...They (the Know Nothings) rose up with one accord and in the person of an elderly gentleman who should have known better...they undertook an interruption...The voice of Governor Floyd was heard, and the excited multitude became still, and with infinite tact they were led once more back to the subject...This speech was powerful and effective. It made its mark and will tell in November..." (25) Whether through the efficacy of speeches such as this one or the assistance which he received from Henry A. Wise, Floyd was elected to the House of Delegates and the tide of Know Nothingism in Southwest Virginia was halted. In spite of the opposition of John Letcher, Fayette McMullen, and other members of the Ritchie wing, who did not quite trust him, Wise defeated Flournoy by a majority of over then thousand votes. (26) Because of his interest in internal improvements, Floyd was immediately appointed chairman of the Committee of Roads and Internal Navigation when the General Assembly convened. (27) In this capacity, he discharged his duties without apparent sectional favoritism, supporting with equal fervor proposals for the James River and Kanawha Canal, eastern roads and turnpikes, and the Abingdon and Cumberland Gap railroad. He was also instrumental in adding another county, to his district when Wise County was formed in 1856 out of parts of Lee, Scott, and Russell counties. It was, in fact, Floyd who moved that the county be named for the new governor. (28) Floyd's
sensitivity to the problems
of those
areas having heavier slave concentration is seen in
the frequency with
which he introduced legislation which was connected
with slavery. For
example,
he introduced a resolution asking that inquiry be made
"into the
expediency
of appropriating like sums of money to the use of free
people of color
who shall emigrate to any non-slave-holding states and
settle
permanently
therein that are now appropriated for the removal of
such persons to
Liberia."
(29) He was also placed on a committee to study means
"more effectually
to prevent the escape of slaves." (30) FOOTNOTES: |
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