Book Review: The Mind of the South by W. J. Cash

Cash, W. J. The Mind of the South. With a new introduction by Bertram Wyatt-Brown.          New York: Vintage Books, 1991.

The year 1941 saw a landmark book published, The Mind of the South, by W. J. Cash. Cash determined to delve into the true mindset of the South. His thesis contends that the South was divided into three minds, or “frontiers:” pre-Civil War, where the white planter class dominated all aspects of society, with little regard to Native Americans, African-Americans, or women; the Reconstruction era, where African-Americans were still not really free and elite whites continued to dominate society; and the beginning of the twentieth century where the old social order of the South charged on, with Confederate soldiers and elite whites assuming the lead roles in all parts of society, thus laying the groundwork for the Civil Rights movement. This is a shocking and almost comical book for modern readers, but remains a landmark book in early-twentieth century Southern scholarship.

From his first few lines, Cash assumes his readers are just like him: white, male, and above all else, Southern. In the introduction by Bertram Wyatt-Brown, Cash’s writing is compared to a country attorney addressing a jury of other like-minded Southern white men. The Mind of the South is a first-rate example of traditionalist historical writing. The only point-of-view defended is that of the elite Southern white man. Women are ignored except to criticize their behaviors. African-Americans are mentioned, but just as members of the lowest social order throughout the Civil War, Reconstruction, and the early twentieth century. True to the traditionalist stand-point, the Southern white man is glorified and exemplified. Given today’s distance from the time of his writing and the progression of Southern historiography, these points are easy to observe. Thankfully, we do not have to rely on Cash’s work as the final say as the true “Mind of the South.”

          Of his three frontiers, the first section of Cash’s Mind of the South, the pre-Civil War frontier, is most interesting to read. Much time is spent defending the white planter class against a descent from English aristocracy. Cash claims that most nineteenth century planters had instead started as poor whites who were somehow able to tame the wilderness and rise to prominence in early American history (pg. 7). When not defending elite whites, Cash can be counted on to excoriate poor whites. His categorizations are not only wrong, but offensive. Not every poor white man would do nothing but sit under a shade tree getting drunk (pg. 24). He considers the poor whites to be less cunning and less lucky than their counterparts. Cash seems to create a separate species when he writes about poor whites.  

          Another important aspect of the mind of Cash’s South, is the paternalism he describes elite whites as having over the poor whites. To begin, Cash’s elite Southern white man is distantly related to everyone in a thirty mile radius (pg. 26). This situational-connectedness allowed the elite man to socially preside over the poor white man. With Southern romanticism, Cash asserts that the elite white man would tend to and care for the poor white man in times of extreme need. Planting advice was given as needed to the poor man, resources were shared; a weird paternalism existed. Cash also touches on the inevitable haughtiness that would come from the elite whites. If the poor whites received scorn from the elite planter class of white men, the scorn was unnoticeable (pg. 41). Cash basically defends Cotton Snobs for their snobbery. Cash’s interpretation of this time period is reminiscent of the Margaret Mitchell’s historical novel, Gone With the Wind.

          In his second section, Cash addresses the Civil War and Reconstruction-eras as a mindset of the South. No less shocking in his generalizations and stereotypes, Cash charges on with his ideals. The Old South is depicted as a society overwhelmed by the aspect of defeat, shame, and guilt. Southerners were no longer in control of their government, and in their secret heart, Cash asserts that guilt was expressed over slavery (pg. 61).

Additionally, as a Southerner himself, Cash defends the “Lost Cause” mindset. African-Americans are depicted as pleasure-seeking rapers of white women. (What about the rape of black women?) Cash admits that the initial emergence of white violence towards former slaves was because of the defense of the white woman and the ease of which blacks were the scapegoat (pg. 117). 

          Another interesting aspect Cash uses to defend the “Lost Cause” mindset of the South, is his claim that the planter class died out and gave way to a gentlemen’s class, mostly made up of former Confederate soldiers (pg. 121). It is true that Confederate soldiers were revered in the South during the Reconstruction years and even afterward, most Confederate soldiers were themselves poor farmers, hardly wealthy landowners on the whole.

          Finally, Cash’s third frontier is what he claims to be the quiet years as the twentieth century dawned. Cash contends that the poor white farmers of the nineteenth century remained at the bottom of the social order as the lowly factory workers. The wealthy planter class morphed into the factory owners. Instead of large plantations, the elite white men were building columned homes, buying large cars, and their wives were joining country clubs, the D.A.R. and the U.D.C (pg. 239-240). Blacks remained at the very bottom of the social strata much as they had before, during, and after the Civil War.

It takes little effort to discover the W.J. Cash committed suicide shortly after publication of The Mind of the South. This fact begs the question: What part does his mental illness and physical disabilities play into his generalizations, stereotypes, and prejudices in his mind of the south? Cash was recorded as experiencing manic episodes, melancholia, and alcoholism (xxviii). Had he lived longer after the publication of The Mind of the South, Cash could have had time to heavily revise some of his key points.

Lucky for Cash, he is a good writer. When not being overly-romantic, his words are beautiful. However, this cannot take away from the fact that over one hundred year’s time has gone by and almost all of his conclusions have proven to be false. Perhaps Wyatt-Brown said it best of The Mind of the South: “It has its own special voice through which it articulates the author’s singular perception of the South.” (vii) Singular and one-dimensional, indeed.