Twelve Years a Slave by Solomon Northup (books to read to get smarter .txt) 📕

the hands together, then striking the right shoulder with one hand, the left with the other⁠—all the while keeping time with the feet, and singing, perhaps, this song:

“Harper’s creek and roarin’ ribber,
Thar, my dear, we’ll live forebber;
Den we’ll go to de Ingin nation,
All I want in dis creation,
Is pretty little wife and big plantation.”

Chorus.
“Up dat oak and down dat ribber,
Two overseers and one little nigger.”

Or, if these words are not adapted to the tune called for, it may be that “Old Hog Eye” is⁠—a rather solemn and startling specimen of versification, not, however, to be appreciated unless heard at the South. It runneth as follows:

“Who’s been here since I’ve been gone?
Pretty little gal wid a josey on.

“Hog Eye!
Old Hog Eye,
And Hosey too!

“Never see de like since I was born,
Here come a little gal wid a josey on.

“Hog Eye!
Old Hog Eye,
And Hosey too!”

Or, may be the following, perhaps, equally nonsensical, but full of melody, nevertheless, as it flows from the negro’s mouth:

“Ebo Dick and Jurdan’s Jo,
Them two niggers stole my yo’.”

Chorus.
“Hop Jim along,
Walk Jim along,
Talk Jim along,” etc.

“Old black Dan, as black as tar,
He dam glad he was not dar.”

“Hop Jim along,” etc.

During the remaining holidays succeeding Christmas, they are provided with passes, and permitted to go where they please within a limited distance, or they may remain and labor on the plantation, in which case they are paid for it. It is very rarely, however, that the latter alternative is accepted. They may be seen at these times hurrying in all directions, as happy looking mortals as can be found on the face of the earth. They are different beings from what they are in the field; the temporary relaxation, the brief deliverance from fear, and from the lash, producing an entire metamorphosis in their appearance and demeanor. In visiting, riding, renewing old friendships, or, perchance, reviving some old attachment, or pursuing whatever pleasure may suggest itself, the time is occupied. Such is “southern life as it is,” three days in the year, as I found it⁠—the other three hundred and sixty-two being days of weariness, and fear, and suffering, and unremitting labor.

Marriage is frequently contracted during the holidays, if such an institution may be said to exist among them. The only ceremony required before entering into that “holy estate,” is to obtain the consent of the respective owners. It is usually encouraged by the masters of female slaves. Either party can have as many husbands or wives as the owner will permit, and either is at liberty to discard the other at pleasure. The law in relation to divorce, or to bigamy, and so forth, is not applicable to property, of course. If the wife does not belong on the same plantation with the husband, the latter is permitted to visit her on Saturday nights, if the distance is not too far. Uncle Abram’s wife lived seven miles from Epps’, on Bayou Huff Power. He had permission to visit her once a fortnight, but he was growing old, as has been said, and truth to say, had latterly well nigh forgotten her. Uncle Abram had no time to spare from his meditations on General Jackson⁠—connubial dalliance being well enough for the young and thoughtless, but unbecoming a grave and solemn philosopher like himself.

XVI

Overseers⁠—How they are armed and accompanied⁠—The homicide⁠—His execution at Marksville⁠—Slave-drivers⁠—Appointed driver on removing to Bayou Boeuf⁠—Practice makes perfect⁠—Epps’ attempt to cut Platt’s throat⁠—The escape from him⁠—Protected by the mistress⁠—Forbids reading and writing⁠—Obtain a sheet of paper after nine years’ effort⁠—The letter⁠—Armsby, the mean white⁠—Partially confide in him⁠—His treachery⁠—Epps’ suspicions⁠—How they were quieted⁠—Burning the letter⁠—Armsby leaves the bayou⁠—Disappointment and despair.

With the exception of my trip to St. Mary’s parish, and my absence during the cane-cutting seasons, I was constantly employed on the plantation of Master Epps. He was considered but a small planter, not having a sufficient number of hands to require the services of an overseer, acting in the latter capacity himself. Not able to increase his force, it was his custom to hire during the hurry of cotton-picking.

On larger estates, employing fifty or a hundred, or perhaps two hundred hands, an overseer is deemed indispensable. These gentlemen ride into the field on horseback, without an exception, to my knowledge, armed with pistols, bowie knife, whip, and accompanied by several dogs. They follow, equipped in this fashion, in rear of the slaves, keeping a sharp lookout upon them all. The requisite qualifications in an overseer are utter heartlessness, brutality and cruelty. It is his business to produce large crops, and if that is accomplished, no matter what amount of suffering it may have cost. The presence of the dogs are necessary to overhaul a fugitive who may take to his heels, as is sometimes the case, when faint or sick, he is unable to maintain his row, and unable, also, to endure the whip. The pistols are reserved for any dangerous emergency, there having been instances when such weapons were necessary. Goaded into uncontrollable madness, even the slave will sometimes turn upon his oppressor. The gallows were standing at Marksville last January, upon which one was executed a year ago for killing his overseer. It occurred not many miles from Epps’ plantation on Red River. The slave was given his task at splitting rails. In the course of the day the overseer sent him on an errand, which occupied so much time that it was not possible for him to perform the task. The next day he was called to an account, but the loss of time occasioned by the errand was no excuse, and he was ordered to kneel and bare his back for the reception of the lash. They were in the woods alone⁠—beyond the reach of sight or hearing. The boy submitted until maddened at such injustice, and insane with pain, he sprang to his feet, and seizing an axe, literally chopped the overseer in pieces.