Anonymous - The memoirs of Dolly Morton

I smiled, and Rosa went on: But, oh Missis, ask de Massa not to sell me to de genterman. I’se fond of you now, an’ I don’t want to leave the ole plantation. I was born on it I told her that I was sure that her master would not fell such a pretty girl to anyone. She seemed pleased and went away with a smile on her face. Now I went down to the breakfast room, where I found Randolph. In a short time, the three gentlemen; who had stayed in the house all night came into the room: They greeted me politely, without the least sign, of embarrassment. But I felt rather uncomfortable when I met their eyes.

The cook had sent up an excellent breakfast, to which we all did justice. The three girls who waited looked fresh and clean, for though they had taken part; in the races and had been poked, they were not the three who had been kept at work all night.

When breakfast was over and cigars had been smoked, the buggies were brought round to the terrace. The gentlemen then bade me goodbye and smilingly thanked their host for the pleasant night’s entertainment Then they drove away to their respective homes and Randolph went off to look round the plantation while I betook myself to the library and; amused myself with a novel.

A few days after the races, Randolph found that he would have to go to Charleston on some business. Connected with the shipping of his cotton, Dinah was told to pack her master’s portmanteau with enough clothes for an absence of ten days.

On the morning he left Woodlands, he spoke to me about the slaves, telling me that I was on no account to interfere with the overseers in their management of field hands. But he gave the full authority over all the women and children in the house. And he said that, if any of them misbehaved, I could, with Dinah’s assistance whip the offender myself, or I could send her to the overseers to receive the whipping. In the latter case I was to send a note to the man specifying the instrument of punishment which was to be used, whether strap, switch or paddle, and also stating the number of strokes which the culprit was to receive.

I told Randolph that I would look after the women, but I said to myself that I would neither whip them with my own hands nor send one of them to be whipped under any circumstances.

The idea of grownup women being whipped was intensely repugnant to me, and still is.

(However, I think that children of both sexes require an occasional spanking.) Randolph went away and I was glad to be temporarily my own mistress. It was pleasant to be able to come and go as I pleased and not to be at the beck and call of a master-and Randolph was such, to all intents and purposes.

The days passed quietly. Dinah was most attentive and I had no trouble with any of the other women. I read a good deal and nearly every afternoon I took a long ride in the country on the quiet old horse which Randolph had given me. (I had learned to ride pretty well, but I was always rather nervous when I was on horseback.) I also often walked about the plantation, watching the field hands at work under the supervision of the overseers, each of whom carried a whip.

It was the cotton-picking season, the picking being done entirely by women. Every one had to pick a certain quantity each day, and, at the hour when work ceased, each picker carried her basket of cotton to the weighing shed, where one of the overseers was waiting to check the day’s work. Each woman’s basket was weighed to find out if it contained the right quantity, and, if it did not turn the scale, the woman who brought the basket was whipped then and there, receiving twelve strokes. No excuse ever was taken, and the punishment always was inflicted with the strap, which gave great pain but did not cut or injure the skin. (I once heard an overseer say that he could whip a nigger wench’s bottom with the strap for half an hour without drawing a drop of blood, and that her skin at the end of the time would be as smooth as a peeled onion.)

There were seventy female field-hands employed in the cotton picking, and nearly every evening one or two-and sometimes three or four-would be punished for not bringing in the proper amount. I will give you a description of what I once saw, and you must remember that it was almost a daily occurrence, not only on Randolph’s plantation, but on most, if not all, of the other plantations in the South.

I often have heard people-not Southerners-defend slavery and say that it was a fine institution, but those people had never seen what slavery really was. To this day the thought of slavery makes me indignant.

But to proceed. One evening I was returning from a stroll and happened to be passing near the weighing shed just at the hour when work ceased for the day and the women were bringing their baskets of cotton to be weighed. I stopped to watch the scene, and, since there was a hedge between the shed and the path where I was standing, no one saw me, though I could see through the leafy screen. I knew the rules of the plantation, and, as I looked at the women, I hoped for their own sakes that they all had picked their proper weight of cotton.

They were of all ages, from eighteen up to forty years. Some were married, but most were single. They were of various shades; the majority were black, but there were many mulattoes and also several quadroons. All of them were strong, healthy-looking women and they were dressed in cotton gowns of diverse colors, their heads, as a rule, being covered with brightly-colored handkerchiefs, though some of the younger and lighter-skinned women wore linen sun-bonnets or wide-brimmed straw hats. Everyone had on shoes and stockings.

They came along the path, carrying their baskets on their heads, chatting and laughing as if they had not a care in the world. But I noticed that a few of them were looking rather grave, and I thought to myself that they probably had been idling and were not quite sure that they had picked the full weight.

The overseer, with a notebook in his hand and attended by four field hands, stood in front of the shed, near a large pair of scales. The women came up, one by one, each handing her basket to be weighed by the men. If the weight was correct, the overseer ticked off the woman’s name in his book and she went off to her cabin, free to do what she liked till next morning. But if a woman’s basket proved to be of short weight, the overseer put a mark against her name and told her to remain.

The weighing was done quickly. Thus, in a short time, all of the women had gone except six poor things whose baskets had been found to be light. They knew what they were going to get, and they stood in a row, all of them looking doleful, while three of them also were whimpering. If I had possessed any authority on the plantation, I would have saved the women from the lash. But I had no authority. If I had showed myself to the overseer at that moment and asked him to let the culprits off without the regulated punishment, he would have laughed at me.

The overseer did not make a single remark to the delinquents, nor did they attempt to excuse themselves-they knew that no excuse would have saved them. Turning to the woman whose name was first on the list, the overseer said sharply: Lie down.

The woman, without hesitation, extended herself upon the ground. Then two of the men knelt in front of her and held her arms stretched out at full length while the other two men, also kneeling, held her legs by the ankles.

She was a big, very stout, coal-black woman, forty years of age. She was married and had two strapping daughters, both of whom were pickers in the same gang. The two girls, who were both over twenty years of age and quite black, had brought in their proper weight and had walked away a little distance from the shed. But when they saw that their mother had been kept back, they stopped, and, standing side by side, looked on in silence while she was being whipped. I dare say it was not the first time they had seen such a sight. Members of families, of both sexes, often were whipped in each other’s presence on Southern plantations.