The California Gold Rush and the Coming of the Civil War by Leonard L. Richards
Authors: Leonard L. Richards
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had nineteen slaves, one shy of the magic number twenty, the number that one needed to officially qualify as a “planter.” But they were not earning him much money. He made far more from his law practice than he made from his nineteen slaves. And that was not just his problem. It was indicative of a problem that bedeviled every farmer on Virginia’s Eastern Shore.
Slavery, as Wise viewed the institution, was just not profitable on the worn-out fields of Virginia. His farm consisted of some four hundred acres. About half was productive. On his best soil he grew corn and oats. On less fertile land he grew sweet potatoes, raised livestock, and maintained peach and pear orchards. All told, he probably grossed no more than $500 per year. He was better off, however, than all but a handful of his Accomac County neighbors. Their forefathers had done well with tobacco, but that was in the distant past. Most farms had abandoned tobacco for cereal grains even before the American Revolution. 3
Throughout Accomac County, farms and slaveholdings were stagnant. In 1830, slaves made up about 28 percent of the population, the lowest of any Tidewater county. By 1849, the percentage hadn’t changed any, but the total population hadn’t changed, either. The growth rate was near zero. 4 To make money, Wise’s neighbors had to take their slaves elsewhere—to the cotton states of Alabama and Mississippi, to the sugar belt of Louisiana, or to the new virgin lands of Texas. Another alternative was to rent their slaves to Richmond manufacturers, or to sell them to slave traders who roamed the county, buying up the surplus, and then shipped them off to New Orleans.
And California? No place, in Wise’s judgment, came close to matching California. It was the solution to his—and every Virginia slaveholder’s—problem. A slave worth $1,000 in Virginia would be worth $3,000 to $5,000 in the gold mines of California. Indeed, if California ended up in Southern hands, the future for him and his neighbors would be golden. Every cornfield on the Eastern Shore, he predicted, would soon be empty of black laborers. They would all be off in California, digging gold. Indeed, every cornfield in Virginia, North Carolina, Maryland, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri would soon be empty of black laborers. The demand for slave labor would be so great that even the cotton and sugar plantations of the Deep South would be depleted of black laborers. Masters would make so much money that in just five years they could afford to colonize their slaves in “Polynesia.” Yes, if they wanted, he and his neighbors could get out of slavery—and at a huge profit. 5
If Wise had an active fantasy life in 1849, so, too, did William McKendree Gwin. He, too, had high hopes about California. He, too, saw the gold rush as the answer to his dreams.
William McKendree Gwin, Mississippi. Reprinted from Frank Soulé et al.,
The Annals of San Francisco
(New York, 1854), 790.
Physically, the two men were exact opposites. Wise was thin, wiry, emaciated. Gwin looked much like the Hollywood version of an Old South senator. He was a large man, about six feet two, stately yet muscular, with a massive head, a strong chin, a large straight nose, sharp blue eyes, and heavy brows, all topped by a stunning head of hair, once flaxen but now at age forty-three streaked with gray, long and full, reaching the nape of his neck. Not only did Gwin look the part of a Southern senator; he wanted to be one. Unfortunately, if he remained in Mississippi, it was not likely to happen. He had too many rivals and too many enemies.
Like his Mississippi rivals, Gwin was a major slaveholder but not a native of the state. He had grown up in Tennessee, the son of a Methodist minister. At age twenty-one, he became a lawyer, but after seeing Tennessee’s established lawyers wax eloquent in court, he doubted if he could compete with them. So, after consulting his father, he sought a
Slavery, as Wise viewed the institution, was just not profitable on the worn-out fields of Virginia. His farm consisted of some four hundred acres. About half was productive. On his best soil he grew corn and oats. On less fertile land he grew sweet potatoes, raised livestock, and maintained peach and pear orchards. All told, he probably grossed no more than $500 per year. He was better off, however, than all but a handful of his Accomac County neighbors. Their forefathers had done well with tobacco, but that was in the distant past. Most farms had abandoned tobacco for cereal grains even before the American Revolution. 3
Throughout Accomac County, farms and slaveholdings were stagnant. In 1830, slaves made up about 28 percent of the population, the lowest of any Tidewater county. By 1849, the percentage hadn’t changed any, but the total population hadn’t changed, either. The growth rate was near zero. 4 To make money, Wise’s neighbors had to take their slaves elsewhere—to the cotton states of Alabama and Mississippi, to the sugar belt of Louisiana, or to the new virgin lands of Texas. Another alternative was to rent their slaves to Richmond manufacturers, or to sell them to slave traders who roamed the county, buying up the surplus, and then shipped them off to New Orleans.
And California? No place, in Wise’s judgment, came close to matching California. It was the solution to his—and every Virginia slaveholder’s—problem. A slave worth $1,000 in Virginia would be worth $3,000 to $5,000 in the gold mines of California. Indeed, if California ended up in Southern hands, the future for him and his neighbors would be golden. Every cornfield on the Eastern Shore, he predicted, would soon be empty of black laborers. They would all be off in California, digging gold. Indeed, every cornfield in Virginia, North Carolina, Maryland, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri would soon be empty of black laborers. The demand for slave labor would be so great that even the cotton and sugar plantations of the Deep South would be depleted of black laborers. Masters would make so much money that in just five years they could afford to colonize their slaves in “Polynesia.” Yes, if they wanted, he and his neighbors could get out of slavery—and at a huge profit. 5
If Wise had an active fantasy life in 1849, so, too, did William McKendree Gwin. He, too, had high hopes about California. He, too, saw the gold rush as the answer to his dreams.
William McKendree Gwin, Mississippi. Reprinted from Frank Soulé et al.,
The Annals of San Francisco
(New York, 1854), 790.
Physically, the two men were exact opposites. Wise was thin, wiry, emaciated. Gwin looked much like the Hollywood version of an Old South senator. He was a large man, about six feet two, stately yet muscular, with a massive head, a strong chin, a large straight nose, sharp blue eyes, and heavy brows, all topped by a stunning head of hair, once flaxen but now at age forty-three streaked with gray, long and full, reaching the nape of his neck. Not only did Gwin look the part of a Southern senator; he wanted to be one. Unfortunately, if he remained in Mississippi, it was not likely to happen. He had too many rivals and too many enemies.
Like his Mississippi rivals, Gwin was a major slaveholder but not a native of the state. He had grown up in Tennessee, the son of a Methodist minister. At age twenty-one, he became a lawyer, but after seeing Tennessee’s established lawyers wax eloquent in court, he doubted if he could compete with them. So, after consulting his father, he sought a
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