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ejsreaseienete“South Carolina Agriculture” |

Address Delivered Before

THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY

of Charleston, S. GC.

At Its 104th Annual Banquet, Dec. 22, 1923

BY
W.M. RIGGS, LL.D.

President of Clemson College

DR. RIGGS’ LAST PUBLIC ADDRESS

Published by the Agricultural Society

of South Carolinaeer

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Address Delivered Before

THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY

of Charleston, S. CG.

At Its 104th Annual Banquet, Dec. 22, 1923

BY
W. M. RIGGS, LL.D.

President of Clemson College

DR. RIGGS’ LAST PUBLIC ADDRESS

Published by the Agricultural Society

of South Carolina‘South Carolina Agriculture’’

(W. M. RIGGS, President Clemson College)

Address Before the New England Society, Charleston, S. C.
December 22, 1923

In speaking before the New England Society and in the
City of Charleston, I should feel very much at home. For
my father was a New England carriage-maker who came
from Connecticut to South Carolina twenty years before the
war, and my mother was a Charleston woman, whose old
home still fronts the beautiful prospect on South Battery.
My oldest brother, as a member of Wagner’s Battery, fought
with the Southern armies, while on the other side numerous
uncles and cousins of New England fought to preserve the
Union and to free the slaves.

Despite its mame, one can truly get the flavor of old
Charleston at the meetings of this venerable Society, one of
the oldest of its kind in the nation. For it has a rich herit-
age of loyal service to its adopted State. If your rolls were
called one would be reminded of some of South Carolina’s
brightest pages in agriculture, in statesmanship and in war.

To this Society, heavy with honors and with years, I
bring the greetings of Clemson College, that lusty young
giant among the colleges of South Carolina. Charleston and
Clemson are alike redolent with historic memories. Upon
our college campus is the homestead of John C. Calhoun,
whose bones rest in the loving custody of this old city. There
upon our campus, or in the little study adjoining the old
mansion, or strolling among the great oaks now the glory
of our college grounds, that great statesman wrought out
his immortal ideals ef government. He passed away without
the coming of his kingdom, and we in this day of prohibi-
tion and eaual suffrage by amendment of the Federal Con-

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co. C. CAROLINA AGRICULTURE.”

 

 

stitution, see a trend in the government—be it for better
or for worse—farther and farther away from that sovereign
power with which Mr. Calhoun was wont to endow the State.

Forty years later there lived amid the glamour of these
same surroundings another great man who saw visions and
dreamed dreams—who knew the need of his adopted people
and pictured upon the red hills of the Piedmont, within the
shadow of the ancestral home, a college which was to meet
that need. Into his last will and testament went the purpose
of his life, and Clemson College stands today a monument
to the wisdom and patriotism of Thomas G. Clemson, who
gave to its founding all that he had.

This Clemson College, gentlemen, sends by me to you and
to Charleston, affectionate greetings couched in such language
as befits a youngster in the presence of his elders.

Cynical old Francis Bacon is the author of that lovely
saying that “God himself planted the first garden.” Certain
it is that of all professions, agriculture is the one that lies
nearest to mother nature’s heart. In it above all others
inheres the durable satisfactions of life—independence, the
opportunity for leadership and initiative, a home, a tree,
a vine—a place for children’s laughter. The great English
historian Bancroft has truly said of agriculture—‘No occu-
pation is nearer heaven.”

And it is also true that no history of a people can be
written which omits the history of its agriculture, for agri-
cultural considerations have shaped the boundaries and
destinies of nations, and hungry mobs have overturned some
of the world’s most stable governments. It was Napoleon
who said that an army travels on its stomach. True, for
armies can be conscripted, but old mother nature can only
be coaxed into co-operation. Behind the man with the gun
looms larger still the man with the hoe, at once the world’s
master and its slave.

From its first settlement, South Carolina was destined to
become an agricultural State. With this intent, the Lords
Proprietors as early as the year 1688, sent out Capt. William

4“SOUTH CAROLINA AGRICULTURE?

 

 

Sayle to explore the entire coast and to select a territory
better adapted for agriculture than were the lands about
Albemarle and Cape Fear. After a diligent exploration of
the coast, Captain Sayle reported to the Proprietors the
selection of the southern part of the province, then known
under the general name of Carolina.

The history of agriculture in South Carolina is like a
great tapestry, into which many colors and many patterns
enter. Some of the colors are bright, some are sombre, and
some are neutral gray. Some of the scenes lift us up to the
inspiring heights of courage and patriotism, and over some
we sigh at the intolerance, greed, injustice and _ selfishness
of even the greatest race on earth.

Over to the extreme left in our great tapestry, woven by
the years from 1562 to 1923, we see the red men, (or should
we say the red women), peacefully tending their fields of
maize, beans and tobacco in the rich lowlands of the Ashley
and Cooper Rivers. We think of nitrogenous fertilizers as
something new, but notice the fish tails sticking out of the
ground where the Indians have buried at each corn hill a
herring or a shad. Here and there we see an Indian smok-
ing his pipe, and underneath we read this quaint description
taken from Cartier’s “Voyage” as far back as 1555:

“There groweth a certain kind of herb whereof in summer
they make great provision for all the year, making great account
of it, and only men use it; and first they cause it to be dried
in the sun; and then wear it about their necks wrapped in a
little beast skin made like a little bag; with a hollow piece of
stone or wood pipe; then when it pleaseth them they make
powder of it and put it in one of the ends of the said cornet or
pipe, and laying a coal of fire upon it at the other end, suck so
long and deliciously that they fill their bodies full of smoke
until it cometh out of their mouths and nostrils even as out of a

tunnel or a chimney.”

That next scene, with the two small ships flying the
French flag, casting anchor in the beautiful harbor, repre-
sents the landing of the Huguenots under stout Jean Ribault,

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“SOUTH CAROLINA AGRICUL? URS 7”

 

at Port Royal, in 1562. That next shadowy picture portrays
the survivors of that first colony returning to France on the
one little ship, leaving behind only a ruined fort and the
name of Carolina.

And next we see (1670) two small vessels, this time fly-
ing the flag of the great British empire, casting their anchors
in another beautiful harbor. They are the ships of the Lords
Proprietors and under command of Capt. William Sayle are
making a landing at what is now the charming little City
of Beaufort. See by the next year these colonists have
moved to the bank of the Ashley River to establish the be-
ginnings of this beautiful and ancient City of Charleston.

And that dark red design which runs here and there
represents the blood of Huguenot and Catholic massacred in
order to establish a certain brand of religion in this new
kingdom. There amid the Spanish moss on the trees near
Fort Carolina hang the bodies of the first martyrs with the
skin of stout Jean Ribault flapping in the wind—victims of
the Spaniard Menendez D’Ayllon, who to commemorate this
evidence of religious zeal, erected a monument upon the
spot with this inscription:

“t do this not as to Frenchmen, but as to Lutherans.”

And here comes a punitive expedition from France which,
landing in St. Augustine, did unto the Catholics even as they
had done unto the Huguenots, and Chevalier D’Gourgas,
when he had finished his work, commorated it in these
words:

“I did not this as to Spaniards, nor as to infidels, but as to
traitors, thieves and murderers.”

That scene in bright colors shows the friendly Indian
pouring from his cornucopia for the benefit of the white
settlers the crops of new America—corn, beans, peanuts,
squashes, tobasso, the tomato, and those indigenous and
unique products of the new world—the watermelon and the
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“SOULE CAROLINA AGRICULTURE”

 

And that scene woven in infamous shades of blue and red
represents the treachery and injustice of the settlers, who
following the example of their good New England brethren,
“fell upon their knees and then upon the aborigines.”

And here is one of the most remarkable scenes in our tap-
estry, prophetic of what 200 years later on a larger scale wae
to spell the agricultural salvation of South Carolina— the es-
tablishment on the banks of the Ashley River, away back
in 1669, of the first agricultural experiment station on the
American continent. |

And here is the jet black smudge representing slave im-
portation running from 1671 to 1807, spreading over the
tapestry until it gives to the whole picture a sombre back-
ground not to disappear even with the emancipation procla-
mation of 1865.

Here is Landgrave John Smith planting the first rice in
his garden on East Bay Street; Miss Eliza Lucas planting
the first indigo on her Wappoo plantation; Mrs. Elizabeth
Burden, of Burden’s Island, planting the first long staple
cotton, and Mrs. Camuse nurturing the infant silk industry
of Georgia and Carolina.

Into the borders of this tapestry, bounding the scenes we
have been depicting, are woven the figures of that gallant
old Huguenot, Admiral Coligny; of his stout Lieutenant,
John Ribault; of the Spanish zealot, D’Ayllon; of Capt.
William Sayle, the surveyor of the province; and of Joseph
West, who led the colony in founding Charleston.

Almost in the center of our tapestry we see represented the
halcyon period from 1785 to 1835, with its singing darkies,
its vast fields of rice and cotton, its imposing manor, its
educated, well-dressed gentry, and its beautiful and accom-
plished women.

And here is the smudge of smoke and ruin which mark
Sherman’s march to the sea, and behold a black Legislature
of Reconstruction Days sits in the legislative halls of the
State Capital. The great plantations disintegrate and tenant

7“$3.0 UT CAROLINA ACRICULTURE”

 

 

farms take their places, and poverty and ruin close the first
two hundred years of South Carolina’s history.

There go the hooded figures of the Klu Klux Klan, pro-
tecting the weak and intimidating the vicious—a noble band
of patriots of a day when law was prostrate. A little further
along we see the red shirt parades of Wade Hampton’s fol-
lowers, and again the flag of white supremacy floats from
the dome of the Capitol in Columbia.

And now the tracery of our tapestry takes on a brighter
hue. We see the spire of an agricultural college arise in
the hills of the Piedmont. We see agriculture emerge from
the age of the rule-of-thumb to the age of science. We see
good roads and good schools and good churches and great
steel towers that pulsate with the power of mighty rivers.
Prosperous cities and humming cotton factories dot the
Piedmont, (once a no-man’s land to the people of this sec-
tion), and lo! we are out of the misty past and into the
pulsating present.

This great tapestry hangs in the gallery of every citizen
of South Carolina—a priceless legacy to beguile his fancy,
to inspire his efforts, and to prove his faith.

% % % *

Time will not permit me to dwell on the great epochs of
South Carolina agriculture, although that first pioneer
period irresistibly beguiles me. That early experiment
station of 1669, those great women in agriculture, those
Indians who had already developed the flint corn of New
England, the prolific corns of the South, the dent corn of
the West. It was indeed a great epoch and the beginnings
of a great State, even if President George Washington, in
1796, did say of Georgia and Carolina:

“As I should not choose to be an inhabitant of them myself,
I ought not to say anything that would induce others to do so.”

Nor can I dwell upon the period of the individual planta-
tion from 1785 to 1865. From 1785 to 1835 was the golden

age of agriculture in South Carolina. It marked the ascend-

8“Ss OUTH CAROLINA AGRTCULTURE”

 

 

ency of Southern statesmanship in the councils of the nation,
of the flowering of a civilization for the favored few which
has never been surpassed upon this continent. It was the
day of the Agricultural Societies in South Carolina. The
Winyah Indigo Society of Georgetown was established in
1757, our own Agricultural Society in 1785, the Pendleton
Farmers’ Society in 1815.

The invention of a rice hulling and cleaning machinery
just before the opening of this period, and of the cotton gin
in 1842, together with an abundance of cheap and efficient
slave labor, made of South Caroline the cavelier State among
the original thirteen colonies.

But the multiplication of the slaves brought its own prob-
lems. More land or a ready market for the increase was
imperative and both became increasingly scarce. As a result,
there began a migration to the rich and cheap lands of
Alabama, Louisiana and Mississippi. And even before the
Civil War came to quench it, the glory of the Baronial period
in South Carolina had reached and passed its climax.

It was in the very midst of the darkness of the Civil War
that the Land Grant Act, providing for the establishing of
agricultural and mechanical colleges in every State, passed
the Congress. This Act, signed by President Lincoln in 1862,
was to lead the State into still another golden age—not this
time the age of money and of slaves—but the age of science.
No longer were men to plant by the moon, locate wells by
the divining stick, or bore cattle for the “hollow horn.”
Science was to be their ally. Science was to make of cotton
seed, once a discard and a nuisance, a crop equal in value
per acre (without the lint) to the corn crop of the West.
Commercial fertilizer, that triumph of the chemist, was
to save South Caroliria from becoming a veritable desert.
Science is driving the cattle tick into the Atlantic to make
possible a great live stock industry in this coastal plain.
Hogs are being saved from the ravages of cholera by double
inoculation. Rapacious insects and disastrous plant diseases
are being held in check by sprays and poisons, and soon the

9“SOU TH CAROLINA AGRICULTURE”

 

 

proboscis of the boll weevil will hang as a trophy from the
belt of the scientist. New varieties of cotton and other
field crops have been evolved, and the fruits and products
of other countries have been adapted to our soil and climate.

The iron plough, the reaper, the mower, the cotton gin,
the thrasher, the tractor and the Babcock Separator are the
expressions of modern-day science. Twenty years ago to
have called a man a “book farmer” would have been almost
to invite attack. Today “book farming” is the only success-
ful farming.

The Apostle Paul, standing before the altar of the Un-
known God, called upon the Greeks to accept for their deity
the God whom he declared. Likewise, many a farm in South
Carolina is an altar to an unknown God, the god of science
worshipped, although unknown by name, and unacknowl-
edged. For scientific agriculture as taught in the schools and
colleges, as disseminated by magazines and by the daily press,
as illustrated by the good farms of those who are believers,
is being unconscously absorbed by all our agricultural people
until after half a century of effort, agriculture like all other
great enterprises of the world, is dependent upon science.

True, there are still unbelievers who are costing South
Carolina hundreds of thousands of dollars every year and
condemning themselves to penury and woe. Like the rich
young man in the parable, they lack the faith necessary to
salvation. There are still gay fodder-pullers and_ short-
sighted cotton and corn stalk burners; silly users of low-
grade fertilizers padded with sand and extra freight charges;
stubborn agnostics who will not plow under their cotton
stalks or spray their fruit trees; and just plain fools who
spend their hard-earned money for quack boll weevil pana-
ceas. There are still long-eared farmers who cling to scrub
chickens and scrub live-stock; wild-eyed Bolshevists from the
free-grass country who pretend to believe that they have the
right to pasture their cattle and spread the cattle fever tick
on their neighbors’ land; surly robbers who consume in
riotous agriculture their inherited resources in the soil—

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“SOUTH CAROLINA AGRICULTURE”

that greatest of all land banks— and make no deposit of pea
vines, stable manure or velvet beans to earn interest for
them in the years to come.

Alas! there are yet many lost souls in agriculture who used
to learn the plan of agricultural salvation. If I might para-
phrase a line of Scripture, I would say:

“How hardly shall some who own farms and live stock enter
into the kingdom of prosperity prepared for those who believe
in science.”

But in spite of an agricultural agnostic here and there,
the progress made by South Carolina in the past decade is
well-nigh marvelous. The census of 1920 showed South
Carolina ahead of any Southern State in the average value
of agricultural products per acre. Under boll weevil con-
ditions, diversified farming has received tremendous impetus.
In the ten years, 1912-1922, the average acreage in cotton
was decreased 637,000 acres, and during the same time the
acreage in the four great food crops—corn, wheat, oais and
rye—have increased 318,000 acres. In 1922 South Carolina
planted the great total of 104,000 acres in sweet potatoes,
455,000 acres in rye, and 320,000 acres in cow peas, and a
substantial acreage in peanuts, sorghum, Irish potatoes and
truck crops. During the decade mentioned, milk cows in-
creased in South Carolina by 43,000, and hogs 151,000, and
the number of cars of perishable products shipped out of
the State increased from 3,000 to 16,000 annually.

South Carolina has indeed made progress, and yet the close
of 1923 finds us with many problems and facing a future of
many grave possibilities that are national as well as State-
wide. For, in these days of easy communication and trans-
portation, agriculture is no longer a sectional, but a national
concern.

We have recently passed through a period of depression
and deflation, the like of which we have never before seen.
But out of this cataclysm we have learned some very im-
portant lessons and awakened to the importance of others

1]25 0. Poe GARD LT NA AGRI GUE TUG.”

 

which we already knew. We learned that our banking sys-
tem, designed primarily to meet the needs of business and
industry, was unsuited to meet the needs of agriculture where
longer credits are imperative; we learned that co-operative
effort in buying and selling is a necessity to profitable agri-
culture.

We have come to recognize, not vaguely but with almost
mathematical precision, that agriculture is the very founda-
tion of national prosperity. Commerce and industry have
come to realize “that only out of the surpluses of produc-
tion are their workers fed; that the farmers eat always at
the first table and the wage-earners must eat at the second
table”—if there is any food left for them.

Perhaps, the greatest of all lessons that we have learned
is that the agriculture of one section is not a local but a
national matter.

If the cotton farmer were only a seller of cotton and not
a purchaser in the world market, business would be con-
cerned only in getting his cotton on the lowest possible
terms. But the cotton farmer of the South buys coal mined
in West Virginia and Pennsylvania; farm implements made
in the Middle West; silk, linen and even cotton goods spun
in New England. When Southern farmers can no longer
buy, the business of the whole nation feels the effect of his
retirement from the market. The same is true of the great
wheat territory of the Northwest and the cattle ranges of
the Southwest, and the corn section of the Middle West. It
is well to remember that the farmers are the greatest pro-
ducers, buyers and borrowers in the nation.

The present trouble with agriculture is not so much in
the prices the farmer gets for his products, as in the cost
of all those things which enter into the business of agricul-
ture and into the upkeep of the farmer’s family. It re-
quires a 175-lb. hog to pay for one day’s labor of the carpenter
who manufactures the farmer’s wagons; it takes 42 lbs. of
butter to pay for eight hours’ labor of the machinist who
builds his mower and tractor; it takes ten bushels of wheat

12"30 UT CAROLINA AGRICULTURE?”

 

 

to pay the daily wage of the locomotive engineer who hauls
his crops to market or delivers his purchases; and it takes
1744 bushels of corn to pay the miner to dig the coal which
enters into almost every article which the farmer buys. In
short, the farmer is exchanging for manufactured products
based upon $10.00 per day labor, the product of his farm
on a labor basis of a dollar per day, or less.

No wonder that 1,400,000 men have left American farms
in the last two years, and this hegira will continue until
there is a greater parity in the value of the farmer’s labor
and the value placed upon labor in the other industries.
When a young man from the farm can step upon the plat-
form of a city street car and draw down 75c. an hour, with no
more capital than his uniform, and no special training, is
it a wonder that he refuses to remain on a farm, already,
perhaps, too small and too poor to support decently his
father and mother? Is it a wonder that so many country
Jads are going to their agricultural colleges with the parental
injunction, “Take any course but agriculture.”

On the one hand, with the wages in industry fixed by the
labor unions at a relatively inflated value, purporting to
represent some mythical American standard of living and
hedged about by immigration laws which keep the supply
of unskilled and skilled labor below the needs of industry—
and on the other hand with gigantic combinations of capital
operating behind high tariff walls, the farmer on his dollar-
a-day basis of compensation is having indeed a merry time.

Once upon a time on the stone wall of an English tavern,
some wag wrote these words:

“The King, he rules for all,

The Bishop, he prays for all,
The Soldier, he fights for all.”

One night a farmer came along and wrote a fourth line:

“The Farmer, he pays for all.”
and so it is.
I am not one of those who expect to see the farmer come
to prosper through legislation enacted in his special behalf.

13“S$ O°U ‘TH CAROLINA AGE EG UL EU RE”

 

I have little patience with any form of syndicalism, however
effectively or thinly disguised, which seeks to take from one
class and give to another. But Congress can and should re-
move some of the artificial barriers which it has erected to
prevent free operation of the law of supply and demand. We
need a modification of our immigration laws so as to in-
crease our supply of labor and stop the raid of industry on
American farms and check the arrogant demands of labor
for higher and still higher wages to be paid largely by the
farmer—the largest single buyer of the wares of industry.
We need a world market for our agricultural surpluses, but
with most of the gold of the world in our vaults, and most
of the worth-while European securities in the hands of
American investors, how are Europeans to pay for our cot-
ton and wheat unless they can sell to us their manufactured
products. A high tariff wall may be a fine thing for manu-
facturing New England, but is hardly a blessing to the
farmers of the South and West.

This country was built upon the principle of individual
liberty. “It was the idea and plan of our forefathers that
the government should protect every man in the pursuit of
his business and from the unlawful acts of others.” It was
hoped that under such a condition of individual freedom
the law of supply and demand could be depended upon to
meet every need. No such thing as government price-fixing
was thought of then, or labor-union price-fixing either.

We cannot lose sight of the great outstanding fact that
the United States has grown to its present industrial great-
ness because of its cheap food produced on cheap but fertile
lands, under the best system of transportation in the world,
and with the largest use of agricultural machinery. Because
of cheap food and abundant raw materials, America has be-
come the great manufacturing nation of the world. But the
industrial world cannot longer expect the farmer to give his
labor at a ruinous rate of exchange.

The time has come in the life of this nation when we must
decide whether or not we shall have a well-rounded. self-sus-

14* SO. 01 a CAROLINA AGRICULTURE”

 

taining national life, or whether we shall commit the fatal
blunder of so many nations of the past and sacrifice aur agri-
culture to the building of cities, expecting our food to come
largely from abroad and from men and women of the peasant
type. If America is to continue to be the GREAT NATION
of the world, there is but one answer to this question. The
answer implies the imperative necessity of sympathy, under-
standing and co-operation among agreculture, business and
industry. They are dependent one upon the other, and all
must work together for the good of all.

Yes, times have been hard in South Carolina, but out of
its disasters I see emerging a South Carolina with greater
self-reliance, with a better agricultural program, with better
agricultural organization for its own protection, and with
a better and happier future. In that happier future we
must have through schools and colleges a still greater dif-
fusion of agricultural knowledge; we must have yet better
organized community effort and community life; and above
all, we must have by Federal and State aid if necessary a
substitution of farm ownership for farm tenantry.

Let us not forget that a happy and therefore a prosperous
countryside is a nation’s greatest asset, its greatest bulwark
against social and industrial ills. When in our cities dis-
content has grown into open anarchy and a startled govern-
ment turn to seek defenders, the cry “Here am I, send me,”
will come first from those humble folks who own a little
parcel of God’s great footstool, from those who look unto
the hills for strength, and into the stars for hope!

Then shall we be able to exclaim with Henry Timrod:

“Hath not the morning dawned with added light?
And shall not evening call another star

Out of the infinite regions of the night to mark this day in Heaven.
At last we are a nation among nations.”

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