to adjust his thinking about the North, because four of his fellow offi- cers, 'almost the best of the lot' he decided, came from Vermont, Massachusetts, New York and Pennsylvania, and in nightly discussions they
presented such a rational, nonhysterical body of opinion that he had to listen. They were not aboli- tionists and voiced little patience with those who were, nor did they display any animus against the South, but Starr was surprised at how firm they were in their opposition to slavery. The man from Vermont, Captain Benjamin Greer, was a wiry, taciturn fellow, a year or so older than Starr and not given to ranting. So when Greer said one night: 'If the differences between slave states and free continue to widen, the Union could possibly divide, break clean apart,' Starr was appalled that an officer in the United States Army dared to make such a seditious statement. But when the four Northerners pressed him as to what choice he might make in such a situation, he had to confess: 'In my family it's always been Vir- ginia first, the Union second. So I suppose I'd have to follow whatever lead Virginia took.' Greer, seeing Hugh's perplexity, assured him: 'I'm not threatening to shatter the Union, never, never. But as I listen to you Southern men talk, I hear you advocating positions that can only lead to a split between the two halves of our nation.' 'Sad day that would be,' Hugh said, dismissing the possibility, but when he listened closely to what officers from Carolina and Alabama were whispering, he was forced into a gloomy conclu- sion: Yes, I can imagine a mess when Virginians like me might be goaded into forming a union of our own where the traditions of the South would be preserved. And once he conceded this about himself, he saw that responsible Northerners like Ben Greer were edging toward a similar solution: In order to defend what they believe in, they may also decide that they'll have to have a union of
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their own. He was frightened by this collision - or separation - course. His vague reflections were dispelled by the arrival of a bugle-call letter which demanded that he make up his mind, for his brother wrote:
Hugh, I've made the decision for us, and unless you countermand it by an immediate letter, I shall proceed. All of us who occupy the good lands at the bend of the river have decided to manumit our slaves, hire them back for wages, and give each family a plot of our land big enough to sustain themselves. This will not only release us from increasingly difficult moral problems, but will also make our return on our land considerably more profitable ...
The startling letter contained many additional details, most of which Hugh judged to be in the interests of everyone, white owner and black slave alike. Because Ben Greer was interested in such matters, Hugh sought him out, placed the letter before him, and said: 'I want you to see how we Southerners react to the problems you've been discussing.' The social statesmanship of the Vir- ginia letter was so pronounced and the personal integrity of the farmers so clear that Greer summoned his Northern friends and read them the details. 'It's magnificent that your brother can think so clearly,' Greer said. 'I suppose you'll be sending
him your approvalT Yes,' and that night he showed Greer the letter he,had composed:
You have my permission. I turn over to you all my rights in the nineteen Starr slaves with the
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understanding that you will manumit the lot. But regardless of how the details are arranged, I hope you can arrange for my personal slave Hannibal to remain with me, if the cost is not prohibitive.
Hugh's letter was quite long, because he went into detail about each of the family units among the Starr slaves: 'Birdsong and Nelly are too old to work regularly for a salary, and since they can't live much longer ... How old is Birdsong, in his nineties maybe? Arrange for him and Nelly to take their meals with one of the other families and charge it