Among the Pines; or, South in Secession Time

by James R. Gilmore

To this he replied, an elevated enthusiasm lighting up his face, "De Lord, massa, made generals ob Gideon and David, and de brack man know as much 'bout war as dey did; p'raps," he added, with a quiet humor, "de brack aint equal to de white. I knows most ob de great men, like Washington and John and James and Paul, and dem ole fellers war white, but dar war Two Sand (Tousaint L'Overture), de Brack Douglass, and de Nigga Demus (Nicodemus), dey war brack."

The argument was unanswerable, and I said nothing. If the day which sees the rising of the Southern blacks comes to this generation, that negro will be among the leaders. He sang to me several of the songs current among the negroes of the district, and though of little poetic value, they interested me, as indicating the feelings of the slaves. The blacks are a musical race, and the readiness with which many of them improvise words and melody is wonderful; but I had met none who possessed the readiness of my new acquaintance. Several of the tunes he repeated several times, and each time with a new accompaniment of words. I will try to render the sentiment of a few of these songs into as good negro dialect as I am master of, but I cannot hope to repeat the precise words, or to convey the indescribable humor and pathos which my darky friend threw into them, and which made our long, solitary ride through those dreary pine-barrens pass rapidly and pleasantly away. The first referred to an old darky who was transplanted from the cotton-fields of "ole Virginny" to the rice-swamps of Carolina, and who did not like the change, but found consolation in the fact that rice is not grown on "the other side of Jordan."

"Come listen, all you darkies, come listen to my song,
It am about ole Massa, who use me bery wrong.
In de cole, frosty mornin', it an't so bery nice,
Wid de water to de middle to hoe among de rice;
When I neber hab forgotten
How I used to hoe de cotton,
How I used to hoe de cotton,
On de ole Virginny shore;
But I'll neber hoe de cotton,
Oh! neber hoe de cotton
Any more.
"If I feel de drefful hunger, he tink it am a vice,
And he gib me for my dinner a little broken rice,
A little broken rice and a bery little fat—
And he grumble like de debil if I eat too much of dat;
When I neber hab forgotten, etc.
"He tore me from my Dinah; I tought my heart would burst—
He made me lub anoder when my lub was wid de first,
He sole my picaninnies becase he got dar price,
And shut me in de marsh-field to hoe among de rice;
When I neber had forgotten, etc.
"And all de day I hoe dar, in all de heat and rain,
And as I hoe away dar, my heart go back again,
Back to de little cabin dat stood among de corn,
And to de ole plantation where she and I war born!
Oh! I wish I had forgotten, etc.
"Den Dinah am beside me, de chil'ren on my knee,
And dough I am a slave dar, it 'pears to me I'm free,
Till I wake up from my dreaming, and wife and chil'ren gone,
I hoe away and weep dar, and weep dar all alone!
Oh! I wish I had forgotten, etc.
"But soon a day am comin, a day I long to see,
When dis darky in de cole ground, foreber will be free,
When wife and chil'ren wid me, I'll sing in Paradise,
How He, de blessed Jesus, hab bought me wid a price.
How de Lord hab not forgotten
How well I hoed de cotton,
How well I hoed de cotton
On de ole Virginny shore;
Dar I'll neber hoe de cotton,
Oh! neber hoe de cotton
Any more."

The politics of the following are not exactly those of the rulers at Washington, but we all may come to this complexion at last:

"Hark! darkies, hark! it am de drum
Dat calls ole Massa 'way from hum,
Wid powder-pouch and loaded gun,
To drive ole Abe from Washington;
Oh! Massa's gwine to Washington,
So clar de way to Washington—
Oh! wont dis darky hab sum fun
When Massa's gwine to Washington!
"Dis darky know what Massa do;
He take him long to brack him shoe,
To brack him shoe and tote him gun,
When he am 'way to Washington.
Oh! Massa's gwine to Washington,
So clar de way to Washington,
Oh! long afore de mornin' sun
Ole Massa's gwine to Washington!
"Ole Massa say ole Abe will eat
De niggas all excep' de feet—
De feet, may be, will cut and run,
When Massa gets to Washington,
When Massa gets to Washington;
So clar de way to Washington—
Oh! wont dis darky cut and run
When Massa gets to Washington!
"Dis nigga know ole Abe will save
His brudder man, de darky slave,
And dat he'll let him cut and run
When Massa gets to Washington,
When Massa gets to Washington;
So clar de way to Washington,
Ole Abe will let the darkies run
When Massa gets to Washington."

The next is in a similar vein:

"A storm am brewin' in de Souf,
A storm am brewin' now,
Oh! hearken den and shut your mouf,
And I will tell you how:
And I will tell you how, ole boy,
De storm of fire will pour,
And make de darkies dance for joy,
As dey neber danced afore:
So shut your mouf as close as deafh,
And all you niggas hole your breafh,
And I will tell you how.
"De darkies at de Norf am ris,
And dey am comin' down—
Am comin' down, I know dey is,
To do de white folks brown!
Dey'll turn ole Massa out to grass,
And set de niggas free,
And when dat day am come to pass
We'll all be dar to see!
So shut your mouf as close as deafh,
And all you niggas hole your breafh,
And do de white folks brown!
"Den all de week will be as gay
As am de Chris'mas time;
We'll dance all night and all de day,
And make de banjo chime—
And make de banjo chime, I tink,
And pass de time away,
Wid 'nuf to eat and 'nuf to drink,
And not a bit to pay!
So shut your mouf as dose as deafh.
And all you niggas hole your breaf,
And make de banjo chime.
"Oh! make de banjo chime, you nigs,
And sound de tamborin,
And shuffle now de merry jigs,
For Massa's 'gwine in'—
For Massa's 'gwine in,' I know,
And won't he hab de shakes,
When Yankee darkies show him how
Dey cotch de rattle-snakes![A]
So shut your mouf as close as deafh,
And all you niggas hole your breaf,
For Massa's 'gwine in'—
For Massa's 'gwine in,' I know,
And won't he hab de shakes
When Yankee darkies show him how
Dey cotch de rattle-snakes!"

The reader must not conclude that my darky acquaintance is an average specimen of his class. Far from it. Such instances of intelligence are very rare, and are never found except in the cities. There, constant intercourse with the white renders the black shrewd and intelligent, but on the plantations, the case is different. And besides, my musical friend, as I have said, is a native African. Fifteen years of observation have convinced me that the imported negro, after being brought in contact with the white, is far more intelligent than the ordinary Southern-born black. Slavery cramps the intellect and dwarfs the nature of a man, and where the dwarfing process has gone on, in father and son, for two centuries, it must surely be the case—as surely as that the qualities of the parent are transmitted to the child—that the later generations are below the first. This deterioration in the better nature of the slave is the saddest result of slavery. His moral and intellectual degradation, which is essential to its very existence, constitutes the true argument against it. It feeds the body but starves the soul. It blinds the reason, and shuts the mind to truth. It degrades and brutalizes the whole being, and does it purposely. In that lies its strength, and in that, too, lurks the weakness which will one day topple it down with a crash that will shake the Continent. Let us hope the direful upheaving, which is now felt throughout the Union, is the earthquake that will bury it forever.

The sun was wheeling below the trees which skirted the western horizon, when we halted in the main road, abreast of one of those by-paths, which every traveller at the South recognizes as leading to a planter's house. Turning our horse's head, we pursued this path for a short distance, when emerging from the pine-forest, over whose sandy barrens we had ridden all the day, a broad plantation lay spread out before us. On one side was a row of perhaps forty small but neat cabins; and on the other, at the distance of about a third of a mile, a huge building, which, from the piles of timber near it, I saw was a lumber-mill. Before us was a smooth causeway, extending on for a quarter of a mile, and shaded by large live-oaks and pines, whose moss fell in graceful drapery from the gnarled branches. This led to the mansion of the proprietor, a large, antique structure, exhibiting the dingy appearance which all houses near the lowlands of the South derive from the climate, but with a generous, hospitable air about its wide doors and bulky windows, that seemed to invite the traveller to the rest and shelter within. I had stopped my horse, and was absorbed in contemplation of a scene as beautiful as it was new to me, when an old negro approached, and touching his hat, said: "Massa send his complimens to de gemman, and happy to hab him pass de night at Bucksville."

"Bucksville!" I exclaimed, "and where is the village?"