Christmas, how spent by Slaves

About Christmas, my master would give four or five days' holiday to his slaves; during which time, he supplied them plentifully with new whiskey, which kept them in a continual state of the most beastly intoxication. He often absolutely forced them to drink more, when they had told him they had had enough. He would then call them together, and say, "Now, you slaves, don't you see what bad use you have been making of your liberty? Don't you think you had better have a master, to look after you, and make you work, and keep you from such a brutal state, which is a disgrace to you, and would ultimately be an injury to the community at large?" Some of the slaves, in that whining, cringing manner, which is one of the baneful effects of slavery, would reply, "Yees, Massa; if we go on in dis way, no good at all."

Thus, by an artfully-contrived plan, the slaves themselves are made to put the seal upon their own servitude. The masters, by the system, are rendered as cunning and scheming as the slaves themselves.

"Joe," said a master, "if you will work well for me, you shall be buried in my grave." The slave said nothing, in reply; but thought, Massa is a bad man, and that he would not like to be buried near him. The slave thought he had been too near his master, all his life, and had rather be away from him, when he died. Seeing the slave idling, "Joe," shouted his master, "have you forgotten what I promised you, if you work well?" "No, Massa, me bemember; but me don't want." "What for, Joe?" "Because de debbil might some day come, and steal me away, in mistake for you, Massa." His master was silent on this subject ever afterwards.

From:

Slave Life in Virginia and Kentucky;
or, Fifty Years of Slavery in
the Southern States of America:
.Electronic Edition

Right, that's why I avoid slave narratives. Can't stand the attempt to represent the dialect by mangling spellings and suchlike.

Update: And the other reason, now that I think about it, is that although I don't doubt the veracity of the accounts, they're very self-consciously structured for a particular audience to elicit a certain response.

Ah hates being manipulated. Which is pretty ironic, all things considered.

Oh, and Michelle persuaded me not to post Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Match-Seller today.

Thank her.

And she said nothing about linking. Just that posting the thing would be. . . not so much with the good.