CHAPTER III.

A FIRST DAY WITH THE FREEDMEN OF YAZOO-WHAT WAS ACCOM

PLISHED BY THE WAR.

IT

T had been arranged by Charles and myself before we separated at Vicksburg, that during his absence I should endeavor to gather together the labor required for Tokeba. Should he be able to arrange for a saw-mill it was our purpose to bring trained men from the North to operate it.

The cotton harvest closes with the year. In the days of slavery, therefore, the holiday season was undoubtedly the best for such an undertaking, and I was advised by the Colonel and nearly all old residents with whom I counseled upon the subject, that it would still be the best season for my purposes. The war had completely overturned their labor system, however, as all agreed. I argued that it had or would overturn this custom also.*

There were daily many freedmen in town in search of work. But Colonel Black assured me that these were mostly restless, "no-account nigros," who were taking advantage of their freedom to leave their masters, or were of those who had "run off with the Yankees," and were waiting for their "forty acres of land and a mule."

I did not lack for advisers, and was struck with the unanimity of sentiment and opinion upon this subject. But the

*Of course I did not then realize how far-reaching in its consequences to the planting. and commercial interests of the cotton territory would be any change of this custom..

holidays were rapidly approaching, and as many Northerners were prospecting for favorable locations on the Yazoo River, I deemed it wise to set about my task without further delay.

In the crowd of freed people I had observed standing about the street corners, or in front of store-doors, there were few seeking homes for themselves alone. Most of them appeared well-behaved, orderly, able-bodied, and as though they had not long been idle. On closer inquiry I found that many of them had homes and had but recently quit work. In such cases the family remained with the old master, and their abandonment of him was wholly dependent upon the success of their representative in his efforts to find an employer for himself and them. In no case was he willing to hire himself for more than a brief period without his family. This feature of the situation struck me forcibly as worthy of more consideration than I had given to the general subject of labor. The few men and women without families that I could get to go for a term of three years, or even one year to the plantation, appeared to me dissipated and unreliable.

I had expected to be able to go into the labor market, and buy and pay for the labor required for Tokeba in the ordinary way-the one in which I had been reared. It had not occurred to either Charles or myself, while discussing the subject of labor for Tokeba, that, in order to secure a force of one hundred or so hands for the place, it would be necessary to make provision for food and clothes for any greater number than was actually required for its cultivation.

Both Colonel and Mrs. Black assured me that this had always been a chief obstacle to the profitable cultivation of cotton, except where their owners combined the business of breeding slaves with planting. This branch of the slave industry of the South had been less generally availed of by Mississippi planters than by their brethren in Virginia, for example. But the necessities of their labor system were gradually driving the planters of the cotton States into the practice. The supply from the grand old "mother of statesmen" was not

equal to the growing demand. Besides, the laborers were made more contented thereby. Of course they "live together like the lower animals," Colonel Black would say, "and the desire to raise a family was purely a sensual one." It gratified the cupidity of the master in another way, also, for it often happened that there would be "a surplus that could be turned into money."

Now this phase of the question shocked me, and, strange to say, I realized for the first time the true inwardness of slavery; I say strange, because I had been born and bred a hater of slavery, and up to this moment had supposed that I knew what it was. Alas! I was only beginning to learn. Here, upon the very threshold, I was met with that problem which lay at the root of the American system of slavery, and was required to solve it or abandon all attempts to plant cotton. This was evident.

It

Neither Colonel Black nor his wife appeared to sympathize with me in the dilemma in which I found myself. The reason was, that they could not take in the same objects from the point of view that I did. Indeed, they could not put themselves in my place at all. It is all clear enough to me now. puzzled me somewhat then. From my point of view their emancipation brought to the slaves liberty of choice, within only such proper restraints as were imposed upon all. I had never doubted that, left to himself, the slave would prefer that his wife should not work in the fields, but attend to her children and household affairs; that he would insist upon school facilities for his children, and would gladly do the toiling necessary to these ends. But here were rugged, brawny men, every one of whom insisted upon my employing their wives and children as field hands, as a condition of their consent to work for us; and here was our landlord and his good, Christian wife trying to aid me in the solution of this problem, by explaining certain features of one which we all agreed had already been solved by the war. Such was the only result of my first day among the freed people of Yazoo.

When next I went among them, to the first man who asked me also to employ his wife and children to work in the fields I put this question:

"Why will you freedmen all insist that your wives shall work in the field?" He seemed not to understand me, so I repeated it. The poor fellow looked about him as though to see whether we were likely to be overheard, and replied:

"Bees you a Yankee? I know you is, do, kase I dun seed it. Laws! Kunnel; I specs yo' is a Kunnel. We col'ud folks is too po'. Mars ain't dun tole us we is free yit, an' we got no money, an' no close, nur nuffin, 'cept'n what we eat and what we wahr. We dun heerd 'bout de Yankees comin' 'bout de Azoo, an' brerer Jon'than he 'lowd mount ez well come down y'hea and see fur ouah own self."

"Well," said I, "should you go with us we will pay you wages, you know, and that will enable you to support your wife."

"How much ye 'low ter pay me?" inquired the freed

man.

"Fifteen dollars per month."

"He! Dat's heep mo' money den I dun seed dis blessed yeah. But ye see, Kunnel, nun on us niggers got no lan', nur no mooles, nur nuffin, 'cep'n wot we eat an' wot we wahr, an' Uncle Jon'than, he 'low'd ef 'twar so dat de Yankee's comin' in y'hea, and we is all free, dat de o'omin folks an' all on um jes go 'way frum dah. He 'low'd, he did, dat we all better wuk, little an big, t'wel we got hole some ob dis y'hea lan' what we is a stan'in' on, and I 'low'd ter do jes dat er way fust, Kunnel. Ole Uncle Si, he 'low'd niggers nebber will own no lan'. Kase dey ain't nun fur um, an' de white folks won' nebber gi'e us nun daern, nur sell us nun nuther; kase dey 'feered de bottum rail mout come on de top. But de Yankee sojas wor dar lookin' arter 'fedrit cotting an' Gobment mooles, jes fo' de s'render, an' dey 'low'd dat we all mout own lan' jes 'e same ez de white folks, wen we dun buy it, an' pay fur it out'en ouah own money. But Uncle Si, he 'clar' dem Yankees no 'count no

way.

Kase nun on 'um comed dar in de ole Homes County,* whar we uns all wor wukin' fur ole Mars, jez 'e same ez 'fo' de wah, any mo'.

"You see, Mars Kunnel, niggers got no larnin', no how, an❞ dem Homes County niggers dar whar we is, nebber heern de wah wor ober t'wel young Mars Henry 'low'd he nebber g'wain back ter Richmon' no mo', kase Mars Lee dun s'render. Den we 'low'd dey wor whipped, an' nebber g'wain tell us niggers. But den, nigger got eyes, an' he y'eah mighty long distanze, too. So Uncle Jon'than he rund off de Satu'day comin' an' peered like he nebber would come back no mo', t'wel one night he jes' drapped down frum de hebbens like he wor' a angel, an' dar comed 'long two Yankee sojas wid da guns an' da pistils an' da shinin' buttons, an' 'low'd, ef Mars lib any whar 'round dat er way? Ole Mars, he dun y'eah de fuss an' de dogs a barkin', an' Jon'than's wife she bust out a shoutin,' kase she dun yeah Jon'than a walkin' 'bout in de kitchin, an' she knowed his step fo' dat day. Den de sojas dey holla 'bout de dog, an' swo' dey shoot um ef dey doan call um off. Ole Mars done went out dar den, mighty peert, an' call de dogs off, an' tie um up, an' spoke to de sojas, an' wor mighty perlite, too, an' tole um, 'Gen'lemens, doan be afeerd, dey woan bite, cep'n yo' is niggers, deez is nigger dogs, dey is;' an' den one de sojas he sot down he musket on de groun', an' say, sais he, Ole man, yo' got no fodder for dees y'here animools?' I tho't I'd di' a laffin', or buss, kase Mars wor a preacher, he wor, an' he nebber use de kuss wud hisself, an' dar dem sojas jez a cussin' an' a dammin' de dogs an' ole Mars, an' a tellin' of um how dey 'low'd dey g'wain help da self, an' broke de doah ef he wouldn' make hase an' gie um de key. An' fo' God! dey tuck de key, an' dey 'low'd de fodder an' de co'n no 'count, an' poad out de wheat ole Mars dun bin sabin' gin plantin' time fur ter sow, an' jes turned de mooles looze on-ter it, jez ez do dar wor nuffn' tu good fur dem ar Yankee mooles. Den dey ax ole Mars fur dem fo' bale 'fedrit cotting he wor a hidin' dar, an' if

*This county adjoins Yazoo County on the northeast.