The
division of the land into smaller units under private ownership in
America became known as the plantation
system. Crops grown on these plantations such as tobacco,
rice, sugar
and cotton were labour intensive. Plantation
owners discovered it was cheaper to buy slaves that to pay wages to
workers.
Slaves were in the fields from sunrise to sunset and at harvest time
they did an eighteen hour day. Women worked the same hours as the
men and pregnant women were expected to continue until their child
was born.
(1)
Moses Grandy, Life
of a Slave (1843)
MacPherson was an overseer where slaves were employed in cutting
canals. The labour there is very severe. The ground is often very
boggy: the negroes are up to the middle or much deeper in mud and
water, cutting away roots and baling out mud: if they can keep their
heads above water, they work on. They lodge in huts, or as they are
called camps, made of shingles or boards. They lie down in the mud
which has adhered to them, making a great fire to dry themselves,
and keep off the cold. No bedding whatever is allowed them; it is
only by work done over his task, that any of them can get a blanket.
They are paid nothing except for this overwork. Their masters come
once a month to receive the money for their labour: then perhaps some
few very good masters will give them two dollars each, some others
one dollar, some a pound of tobacco, and some nothing at all. The
food is more abundant than that of field slaves; indeed it is the
best allowance in America: it consists of a peck of meal, and six
pounds of pork per week; the pork is commonly not good, it is damaged,
and is bought as cheap as possible at auctions.
(2)
Frederick Douglass, Narrative of
the Life of Frederick Douglass (1845)
We were worked in all weathers. It was never too hot or too cold;
it could never rain, blow, hail, or snow, too hard for us to work
in the field. Work, work, work, was scarcely more the order of the
day than of the night. The longest days were too short for him, and
the shortest nights too long for him. I was somewhat unmanageable
when I first went there, but a few months of this discipline tamed
me. Mr. Covey succeeded in breaking me. I was broken in body, soul,
and spirit. My natural elasticity was crushed, my intellect languished,
the disposition to read departed, the cheerful spark that lingered
about my eye died; the dark night of slavery closed in upon me; and
behold a man transformed into a brute!
Sunday was my only leisure time. I spent this in a sort of beast-like
stupor, between sleep and wake, under some large tree. At times I
would rise up, a flash of energetic freedom would dart through my
soul, accompanied with a faint beam of hope, that flickered for a
moment, and then vanished. I sank down again, mourning over my wretched
condition. I was sometimes prompted to take my life, and that of Covey,
but was prevented by a combination of hope and fear. My sufferings
on this plantation seem now like a dream rather than a stern reality.
(3)
Henry Clay Bruce, Twenty-Nine Years
a Slave (1895)
During the crop season in Virginia, slave men and women worked in
the fields daily, and such females as had sucklings were allowed to
come to them three times a day between sun rise and sun set, for the
purpose of nursing their babes, who were left in the care of an old
woman, who was assigned to the care of these children because she
was too old or too feeble for field work. Such old women usually had
to care for, and prepare the meals of all children under working age.
They were furnished with plenty of good, wholesome food by the master,
who took special care to see that it was properly cooked and served
to them as often as they desired it. On very large plantations there
were many such old women, who spent the remainder of their lives caring
for children of younger women.
(4)
Austin Steward, Twenty-Two
Years a Slave (1857)
It was the rule for the slaves to rise and be ready for their
task by sun-rise, on the blowing of a horn or conch-shell; and woe
be to the unfortunate, who was not in the field at the time appointed,
which was in thirty minutes from the first sounding of the horn. I
have heard the poor creatures beg as for their lives, of the inhuman
overseer, to desist from his cruel punishment. Hence, they were usually
found in the field "betimes in the morning," (to use an
old Virginia phrase), where they worked until nine o'clock. They were
then allowed thirty minutes to eat their morning meal, which consisted
of a little bread. At a given signal, all hands were compelled to
return to their work. They toiled until noon, when they were permitted
to take their breakfast, which corresponds to our dinner.
On our plantation, it was the usual practice to have one of the old
slaves set apart to do the cooking. All the field hands were required
to give into the hands of the cook a certain portion of their weekly
allowance, either in dough or meal, which was prepared in the following
manner. The cook made a hot fire and rolled up each person's portion
in some cabbage leaves, when they could be obtained, and placed it
in a hole in the ashes, carefully covered with the same, where it
remained until done. Bread baked in this way is very sweet and good.
But cabbage leaves could not always be obtained. When this was the
case, the bread was little better than a mixture of dough and ashes,
which was not very palatable. The time allowed for breakfast, was
one hour. At the signal, all hands were obliged to resume their toil.
The overseer was always on hand to attend to all delinquents, who
never failed to feel the blows of his heavy whip.
(5)
William Wells Brown, Narrative
of William W. Brown, A Fugitive Slave (1847)
During the time that Mr. Cook was overseer, I was a house servant
- a situation preferable to that of a field hand, as I was better
fed, better clothed, and not obliged to rise at the ringing of the
bell, but about half an hour after. I have often laid and heard the
crack of the whip, and the screams of the slave. My mother was a field
hand, and one morning was ten or fifteen minutes behind the others
in getting into the field. As soon as she reached the spot where they
were at work, the overseer commenced whipping her. She cried, "Oh!
pray - Oh! pray - Oh! pray" - these are generally the words of
slaves, when imploring mercy at the hands of their oppressors. I heard
her voice, and knew it, and jumped out of my bunk, and went to the
door. Though the field was some distance from the house, I could hear
every crack of the whip, and every groan and cry of my poor mother.
I remained at the door, not daring to venture any further. The cold
chills ran over me, and I wept aloud. After giving her ten lashes,
the sound of the whip ceased, and I returned to my bed, and found
no consolation but in my tears. Experience has taught me that nothing
can be more heart-rending than for one to see a dear and beloved mother
or sister tortured, and to hear their cries, and not be able to render
them assistance. But such is the position which an American slave
occupies.
(6)
Malcolm X,
speech (9th November, 1963)
If you're afraid of black nationalism,
you're afraid of revolution. And if you love revolution, you love
black nationalism. To understand this, you have to go back to what
the young brother here referred to as the house Negro and the field
Negro
back during slavery. There were two kinds of slaves, the house Negro
and the field Negro. The house Negroes - they lived in the house with
master, they dressed pretty good, they ate good because they ate his
food - what he left. They lived in the attic or the basement, but
still they lived near the master; and they loved the master more than
the master loved himself. They would give their life to save the master's
house - quicker than the master would. If the master said, "We
got a good house here," the house Negro would say, "Yeah,
we got a good house here." Whenever the master said "we,"
he said "we." That's how you can tell a house Negro.
If the
master's house caught on fire, the house Negro would fight harder
to put the blaze out than the master would. If the
master got sick, the house Negro would say, "What's the matter,
boss, we sick?" We sick! He identified himself with his master,
more than his master identified with himself. And if you came to the
house Negro and said, "Let's run away, let's escape, let's separate,"
the house Negro would look at you and say, "Man, you crazy. What
you mean, separate? Where is there a better house than this? Where
can I wear better clothes than this? Where can I eat better food than
this?" That was that house Negro. In those days he was called
a "house nigger." And that's what we call them today, because
we've still got some house niggers running around here.
This modern
house Negro loves his master. He wants to live near him. He'll pay
three times as much as the house is worth just to live near his master,
and then brag about "I'm the only Negro out here." "I'm
the only one on my job." "I'm the only one in this school."
You're nothing but a house Negro. And if someone comes to you right
now and says, "Let's separate," you say the same thing that
the house Negro said on the plantation. "What you mean, separate?
From America, this good white man? Where you going to get a better
job than you get here?" I mean, this is what you say. "I
ain't left nothing in Africa," that's what you say. Why, you
left your mind in Africa.
On that
same plantation, there was the field Negro. The field Negroes - those
were the masses. There were always more Negroes in the field than
there were Negroes in the house. The Negro in the field caught hell.
He ate leftovers. In the house they ate high up on the hog. The Negro
in the field didn't get anything but what was left of the insides
of the hog.
The field
Negro was beaten from morning to night; he lived in a shack, in a
hut; he wore old, castoff clothes. He hated his master. I say he hated
his master. He was intelligent. That house Negro loved his master,
but that field Negro - remember, they were in the majority, and they
hated the master. When the house caught on fire, he didn't try to
put it out; that field Negro prayed for a wind, for a breeze. When
the master got sick, the field Negro prayed that he'd die. If someone
came to the field Negro and said, "Let's separate, let's run,"
he didn't say, "Where we going?" He'd say, "Any place
is better than here."
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