What Became of the Slaves on a Georgia Plantation?: Great Auction Sale of Slaves, at Savannah, Georgia, March 2d & 3d, 1859Doesticks, Q. K. Philander
History
What Became of the Slaves on a Georgia Plantation?: Great Auction Sale of Slaves, at Savannah, Georgia, March 2d & 3d, 1859
Doesticks, Q. K. Philander
Slave trade -- United States; Slavery -- Georgia
There were no light mulattoes in the whole lot of the Butler stock,
and but very few that were even a shade removed from the original
Congo blackness. They have been little defiled by the admixture of
degenerate Anglo-Saxon blood, and, for the most part, could boast that
they were of as pure a breed as the best blood of Spain--a point in
their favor in the eyes of the buyer as well as physiologically, for
too liberal an infusion of the blood of the dominant race brings a
larger intelligence, a more vigorous brain, which, anon, grows restless
under the yoke, and is prone to inquire into the definition of the word
Liberty, and the meaning of the starry flag which waves, as you may
have heard, o'er the land of the free. The pure-blooded negroes are
much more docile and manageable than mulattoes, though less quick of
comprehension, which makes them preferred by drivers, who can stimulate
stupidity much easier than they can control intelligence by the lash.
None of the Butler slaves have ever been sold before, but have been
on these two plantations since they were born. Here have they lived
their humble lives, and loved their simple loves; here were they born,
and here have many of them had children born unto them; here had their
parents lived before them, and are now resting in quiet graves on the
old plantations that these unhappy ones are to see no more forever;
here they left not only the well-known scenes dear to them from very
baby-hood by a thousand fond memories, and homes as much loved by
them, perhaps, as brighter homes by men of brighter faces; but all
the clinging ties that bound them to living hearts were torn asunder,
for but one-half of each of these two happy little communities was
sent to the shambles, to be scattered to the four winds, and the other
half was left behind. And who can tell how closely intertwined are the
affections of a little band of four hundred persons, living isolated
from all the world beside, from birth to middle age? Do they not
naturally become one great family, each man a brother unto each?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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