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A Winter Among the Slaves

Fanny Kemble Speaks Out
A Stage Presentation of Her Diary Written on Butler Island Rice Plantation 1838/9

By

Patrick M. Hughes

Play staged and directed Patrick Hughes at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship Hall, St. Augustine, 2010, with Margaret Kaler in the role of Fanny Kemble. Reviewed in the St. Augustine Record.

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Introduction: Fanny Kemble was a British actress who went on an American tour where she met and married Pierce Butler. They had two children, and a few years later, Pierce inherited two slave plantations in Georgia. Fanny wanted to see a plantation, and in the winter of 1838, she and the children travelled to Butler Island rice plantation. She was horrified by what she saw, and began writing diary. Some pages of that diary were used by American abolitionists at the time, but its real historical significance became clear when it was published in 1863 in England. At that time the British government was considering giving a loan to the Confederacy. Sections of her diary were published as pamphlets and spread throughout England. The abolitionists were successful in making their case. The play takes place in a theater in Philadelphia, 1864 where she speaks to an audience of northern abolitionists during the civil war. Frances Anne Kemble is fifty five years of age. Fanny as she called herself is wearing a long white dress with pink flowers from throat to ankles and black laced boots. There is a white crochet frill on the collar and at the wrists. Fanny also has a white kerchief, which she wields now with the right hand, now with the left, and at times tucks it under her left sleeve. She could also have a broad straw hat. Her face is pale, almost ghost like, she stands erect, her movements are elegant as befits the Shakespearian actress she is. Fanny is self-assured, frank, practical and determined in her idealism, and naturally assumes the superiority of her British background. She wears no masks, nor is she in any way ostentatious. She has no fear of hard work. The stage should be stark. I imagine a high chair and table USR, and a bench DSL. Fanny moves about freely, now standing, now sitting, always aristocratic. There could be a lowkeyed touch of moonlight upstage allowing nature to relieve the austerity of the human world of slavery. There will be a slave song at the beginning and end of each Act, e.g. Follow the Drinking Gourd, The Ballad of the Underground, Blue Tail Fly, Wade in the Water, Darling Nelly Gray, Swing Low Sweet Chariot, The Gospel Trains A Comin, Many Thousand Go, as chosen by the Musical Director. While the monologue reflects Fanny Kembles descriptions and ideas, the language is largely that of the playwright since this has to be a spoken not written language. Of course her quotation of slave statements remain intact. The author worked with Fannys Journal of a Residence on a Georgian Plantation 1838-9, E-Book 12422, a Project Guttenberg version which is not copyrighted in the United States.

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Act 1
(We hear Follow the Drinking Gourd, a slave song about going north to freedom during which Fanny walks on stage) A wonderful evening to you all Friends in the abolition of slavery My name is Frances Anne Kemble You may call me Fanny a stage actress From England by profession I retired To marry an American, Pierce Butler Grandson of a Founding Father no less Who later inherited a rice plantation On Butler Island plus a cotton plantation On St. Simons Island closer to the sea In Georgia that came with hundreds of slaves I something of an abolitionist at the time Wanted to go there with our two daughters And their Irish caretaker and after much Entreaty Pierce acquiesced hoping I would Get around to seeing slavery in a different light Thereby permitting us to travel those Nine exhausting days by train, coach Boat rides to finally arrive at what was to be My home during the winter of 1838 -9 Where I kept a diary in the form of letters To a friend Elizabeth Dwight Sedgwick In Philadelphia expressing the indignation Utter outrage I experienced in the face Of the condition of slavery for all too

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Soon I got to see hear smell this Prison house of labor in the rice fields My Journal was published in England Earlier this year of 1863 for I found My compatriots all too sympathetic To slavery and my government even Considering financial support for the Confederacy And here I am back in Philadelphia To encourage you all as the war wages on My very first day on the rice plantation I went to see the biggest threshing mill Run by Ned our engineer who though Expert and experienced his formidable Intelligence is stunted condemned as he is In slavery to live in a hovel his wife With no more than one dirty dress Children left in charge of the eldest as the Mother is daily forced into rice paddies Close by this mill there was the cooks shop Where an old woman boiled their daily Rations of rice and corn grits and beyond That a blacksmiths shop which produced Ironworks and coopers to make rice barrels, Tubs, buckets while other slaves are skilled Mechanics artisans bricklayers carpenters But such intelligence is also held back Inhibited in the daily lives while all this Competence among our slaves stands out All the more when contrasted

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With field hands the most stupid Unrefined brutish of all the slaves However everyone is made equal When owned in slavery both talented And beastly male and female subjected As they are to the same system of enforced Task labor assigned a given amount of Work per day and some when done with this May work for a wage and so it was that two Carpenters built me a boat for sixty dollars Permitting me to explore the many canals on Butler Island at times taking on the oar myself Day and night, night and day this labor Camp I call the Negroes prison house Was driven by a drivers whip who gave An account of each task to a head driver Who in turn passed on this information To a white overseer every evening Now punishment is the motivating force In this place for their day is full of cruelty A driver can mete out a dozen lashes at his Discretion and if the slave persists in his Or her offence he can inflict up to three dozen More with the permission of the head driver And up to fifty with the say so of the overseer While the master can flog the slave to death In a fit of passion forgetting the monetary value Of his property but do note that the head driver Can also be flogged and sold at will even if

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He rules the roost when the Master is away One day the worst of all this flogging was Made clear for Louisa told me her tale how When sent back to work as was the rule In the third week after confinement she was Unable to finish her task and so severely Flogged that the following day when she Failed again the driver said hed tie her up Tie you up Louisa? I asked in horror (Fanny now mimics Louisa) By the wrists or thumbs Missis, she Went on to explain how thumbs were The worst and the slave would hang This way from a branch toes barely Touching the earth with dress pulled Over the head exposing the naked flesh Of back and lower body and worse still The driver may assign the job to anyone Close by a father, husband, lover, brother Terrified the lively Louisa ran away into Dense thickets I asked if she were not afraid of Snakes crocodiles that abound in our swamps (Fanny mimics Louisa again) Oh Missis, me no tink of dem, me forget All about dem for de fretting, but me starve Terrible me go home but was weak for so long Dat de driver forgot about de floggin She concluded with such beautiful simplicity I could only think that were my throat cut

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One day for such an outrage it would be Deservedly cut indeed but let me share More images of their prison fortress The slaves on Butler Island lived in four Villages or camps as they called them Which I visited in those early days with Ten to twenty cabins plus a cooks shop Run by the oldest wife each hovel having But one small room twelve feet by fifteen With a few tiny closets in each a bedstead Covered with a filthy grey moss mattress This for two to eight families while such Conditions were appalling what really Shocked that first cold day was how slavery Has left this proud race of people unable To make the slightest effort to improve Their desolate condition even it were No more than keep out ducks chickens pigs That littered inside those huts at their own Convenience or make a decent fire To keep themselves warm or wash their feet Or hands even a babys wooly head Now knowing me you may well imagine How soon I took aim in the face of this Challenge asking them to sweep the floor Expel all defecating creatures Wash every child.I can still see their amazement Hear their laughter that first day When I took up a broom

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Repeating over and over (Personifies their amazement) Missis do work! Missis do work! Many a day I went home disheveled scruffy Grimy but through example exhortation Especially the use of bribery with food Sugar clothing I motivated them to change Their ways and they would chase me in droves Throughout the plantation displaying Their obedience to my wishes in hopes Of such meager bribes with cries of (personifies slaves) Missis, missis me mind chile, Me bery cleanand chile too, him bery clean and I began to pass on Their grievances and needs to Pierce Who said (Mimics Pierce) Pay no attention to them woman They lie when punished for doing wrong Steal whatever comes to hand and are Forever faking illness pain hunger I did not agree and continued to work For enhancement taking pride in every Little success for with cleanliness comes Some measure of self-respect even in slavery You may well be surprised my friends When I say that none of this grime The daily lot of slaves prevents those

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Oh so delicate white women from hanging Their infants at a haggard Negross breast Or from having little pet blacks sleeping Like contented puppies in their bedchambers But let me relate a tale of self-driven Improvement for a change Some time into my stay at Butler Island John the cook stole a ham and when questioned Responded with such childlike lies that Mr. Butler had him flogged degraded to field Hand doomed to moral impoverishment Now hear this the following day The poor mans brother said the cook Had disgraced the family going on To relate how his grandfather an excellent carpenter By trade was so loyal to his master Such a good worker who did his daily task Worked for a wage in the evening That he was allowed to purchase freedom For close to two thousand dollars The good man left his wife seven hundred more When he died and yet we hear nothing But universal condemnation of this race Being idle thriftless brutish incompetent Beasts now hear me well for this noble free Man left his wife and children in slavery Thereby ending all the progress he had Achieved to leave them wallow Once again in this cursed system

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Where a pregnant woman can be flogged Just as easy as was the one who pretended To be in the family way to get extra rations Detected she was whipped unconscious It was the beauty of nature that alone Gave me relief from such human misery For on Butler Island I would find thickets full Of shrubbery with every shade of green and shape Dark-colored oak, magnolia bay wild myrtle Pathways strewn with a lovely wild flower Much like a primrose and overhead mocking Birds hopping from creeper to creeper Loudly mimicking birds insects frogs The island abounds in winged hoards of Partridge snipe wild ducks geese hawks Turkey buzzards flocks of pigeons Rising up from the rice fields with A multitude of whirring wings Wrapped in nature I seemed to be On a different planet and of course I loved my boat rides even learned to fish One special day I shall never forget the thrilling Experience when I departed from rice-island To set out in an eight-oared longboat to go Seaward to our cotton fields on St. Simons The men set up a chorus singing in perfect unison Their own version of Coming Through the Rye (mimics the boatmen)

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Jenny shake her toe at me, Jenny gone away; Jenny shake her toe at me, Jenny gone away. Hurrah! Miss Susy, oh! Jenny gone away; Hurrah! Miss Susy, oh! (this oh is dragged out ohhhhhhhhhh!) Jenny gone away Was Jenny shaking that toe as a Gesture of departure or one of defiance I shall never know but that her going away Was undoubtedly a happy affair was avowed Ever so dramatically in a pause made on The last Oh before the final proclamation That she was out the door at long last Soon however this singing came To an end caught up as we were in high Winds tossed about on furious waters Even as eight slaves pulled on the oars While one steered us many long miles Rounding a bend in the river the wind Died down for a moment provoking One to say that not another planters Lady in all of Georgia would travel alone In such a storm without a white protector To which I replied, If the boat capsizes I am sure to have nine chances to live Instead of one which triggered great laughter

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(Mimics boatmen) So you would, missis! True for dat, missis And with such merriment they rowed on Leaving me bowled over for twas true Whatever the reason not for one moment Had it ever occurred to me to have misgivings About being alone with such fine men Now I have been slow to mention our Infirmary as they called that place of Desperation dreadful destitution where I Beheld sick or old women trying to keep warm Around a few sticks of fire while most lay On the dirt floor without bed, mattress or cover Though they had labored a lifetime so that Whites could buy luxury goods abandoned Here to die like brute beasts floundering In their own filth sickness pain Once more I set about mitigating their Horrendous condition going home that first Evening my clothes in a mess chock-full Of vermin Another day I found a slave called Friday Dying on the dirt floor, shirt and trousers In tatters eyes glazed over breath ever so frail Head resting on a few sticks his pain Without mitigation Christian solace Human sympathy an overworked beast Rotting where he fell and I leaned closer To his wheezy panting with tears flowing

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Down my face to hear the last gasp of this man Free at last from vicious bondage I continued to hold forth to Pierce on The inhumanity of being owned The injustice of forced labor The moral outrage of whipping Women stripped of their clothes But my daily entreaties failed to convince Indeed enraged him til one day he roared (Assumes the appearance of a haughty Pierce) Never again speak to me woman on behalf Of this deceitful race that is better enslaved And useful rather than free and idle The angry exchanges came to an end But our relationship had soured never again To reinstate those early years of tenderness Let me turn now to religion The slaves can go to a Church in Darien Once a month, and oh my, but their Sunday Get-up what a sight to see with every frilly thing Combs in woolly heads adorned with handkerchiefs Filthy finery of every color with sprawling patterns Bugled with glass beads, flaring sashes, Fancy aprons yet despite such style They were forced to sit like lepers Set apart from whites so I asked The Pastor how he could administer Communion to a mixed assembly arranged In such a manner and was assured that this

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Was not a problem, (mimics silly pastor) for whites get it first completely Unaware of how this sacramental event Demonstrated ever so clearly to all That God is no respecter of persons Some planters think religion makes the slaves More faithful and trustworthy as they come Under the higher influences of Christianity Of course such religious zeal for the Betterment of their souls was spurned On one day by an abolitionist Methodist minister Who appeared in the area but was quickly Expelled having put the fear of god in the hearts Of slave owning clergymen who declared That what they call involuntary servants (whispering) (slave is an ugly word and rarely used) Should be enlightened but in a restricted manner Prompting me to suggest they write a slave Bible With only such content as will make them Better slaves rather than learn how to end Terminate their slavery by following A new commandment, do unto others As they do unto you but this said, writing A slave bible would surely be a ticklish exercise For even the meager enlightenment our foolish Slave-owning Pastors preach may well usher In a flood of truth that will break the links Of such carefully crafted moorings leaving

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Masters outnumbered as they are by the Hundreds to dig plow cultivate their own fields Hence it is not at all surprising that some Wise planters do not permit any religious Activity whatsoever believing faith to be a Two-edged sword which reminds me of a Story I must tell how religion motivated The slaves to down tools one day an old Lady called Sinda a prophetess she called Herself of mixed Afro-Christian faith For despite every effort to root out The so-called and much feared superstitious African magical rites beliefs some sense Of the sacred character of all that exists Persisted and since no slave could possibly Imagine that everything was equally sacred In a white mans world their desecrated state May have prompted her to babble on in Christian words declaring the end of the world To be at hand striking such terror into every Negro heart that they ran blathering about Shouting screaming refusing to work Our overseer a wise man knew he could Not argue with such religious sentiments Aware that the whip no longer reigned Supreme for how could he lash such Somber dread from out his chattering chattel Instead he gathered all about him And pointing to that old cowering Sinda

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Warned that if the world did not end by Weeks end the false prophesy would be Flogged out of her and so it was that the slaves Head down reluctantly returned to assigned tasks Even as Sinda shrieked howled cried for mercy Now it never ceased to amaze how well they Believe in their unchangeable inferiority For slavery has grown such an attitude In hearts hollowed out of every natural right That works like a cancer forming the greatest Impediment to even the slightest progress For it renders them incapable of asserting themselves (pause) Let me expose this condition in more detail One day I asked Israel, a fine intelligent Man why his father never taught him to read Thereby provoking every kind of silly excuse And I remained silent til he finally replied (mimics Israel) Missis, what for me learn to read? Me have no prospect. Though I explained that while limited He did have opportunities for betterment His response was clear (mimics Israel) Him get a lick if Massa found him reading Or Massa would say Pooh, teach em to read! --- teach em to work And there ended our discussion

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(poignant re Sack) Our pretty nursemaid Sack shows in her face A mental state I notice around me every day The experience of anxiety sorrow sadness fear A sense of past that is lost with knowledge That only a painful future is to be expected Now such a countenance speaks truth to slavery However some slaves do know They are more than chattel as when A boy replied with pride to his mothers Question in my house one day (mimics boy) Well then, I do tink so, and dats the speech Of a man, whether um bond or free And indeed it was the speech of a man Standing above the bitter accident of slavery For he could take justified pride in his right To disagree with maternal authority Again I must tell you of a little girls Conversation with our chambermaid My three year old said with perfect innocence (mimics daughter, Mary, and Margery) 'Mary, some persons are free and some are not, Upon receiving no response she went on I say again I am a free person, Mary do you know that?' 'Yes, missis, _here_,' Mary replied hesitantly 'I know it is so here, in this world.' Here our Irish nurse, Margery intruded

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'Oh, then you think it will not always be so?' 'Me hope not, missis, Me hope not. I have spoken at length of Negro degradation But how can I express my amazement on Seeing babies with the most beautiful eyes Perfect teeth and soft skin that when washed Allows the blood to shine through giving life To facial tissue far finer than that of the most Handsome whites while adult women have The most wondrous hands erect bodies that Can balance great weight upon the head And there were the tall powerful handsome West Indian slaves that reminded me Of Othello the Moor and this will make you Shudder for once I sat beside the honorable Mr. John Quincy Adams at a Bostonian table Well known for his anti-slavery stance who Nevertheless proclaimed with an expression Of utter disgust when speaking of Desdemona That her misfortunes were just punishment For having married a nigger! So much for superior enlightened white intelligence (Song: Blue Tail Fly, Jimmy Crack Corn)

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Act 2
(Song: Wade in the Water) Now let me turn to a matter Of no small importance My husband in the company of many others Including some founding fathers of this great country Claim the right of one man to enslave another But on what grounds may I ask? None Where are the foundational arguments? The reasons why this is so? None All we get are justifications In defense of this inhumanity (Personifying Pierce speaking with Planters) Look how good life is for our slaves He declared with a wave of the hand And one of his friends chimed in (Now personifying one of Pierces friends) Unlike the Irish peasantry slaves Have shelter food clothing While the former want for everything But wait a minute Naked he may be but the Irish peasant Is lord of his own person can Choose desire decide a different course

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Though penniless they scamper over To Savannah, New York, Chicago Philadelphia not knowing the future But each one willing to be independent His own man despite a skimpy scanty wage What say you? Would he choose to be a dependent slave My friends knowing well his future lot To live a life of certainty in the cotton fields With his daily rations and the lash Would not his angry dismissal of a Slavemasters most generous offer Show how the thought of freedom far Outweighs such daily certainty in life But allow me to comment on another Matter of interest for the same idea Is oft applied to Irish peasant and Negro slave Namely that the peasant is by nature brutish Idle incapable ignorant stupid helpless But this assertion is belied when the Irish Taken out from the evil influences of their base Condition in Ireland and given two or three Generations of Irish community life in our northern States working for a wage and in perfect Freedom with the possibility of education Why they become integrated in American society Like every other race that comes to your shores And should these smooth-talking slave masters Offer an Irish peasants fortune difficult

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Though it may be to a slave would that Negro Not rise up like a pigeon from the rice field And wing it over the trees to a northern slum? Now some planters with it is said Bostonian Investors contracted to dig the impracticable Brunswick canal hiring Irish for twenty dollars A month plus keep while masters rented out Their slaves for as much as they could get And this new tyrant worked them to the bone Fed them less than rice and grits Not having any interest in their Health or well being as property But mark you now these two groups Of workers were kept strictly apart And pray why? According to our Bostonian businessman (Personifying a Boston businessman) These Irish scum hate niggers Cant stand being compared to them Or have them close by so keep them away From one another at all times Especially when those Irish are drunk Now there is some truth in this For the low Irish almost as despoiled As the Negroes in their homeland Have a deep seated hatred of blacks And would visit on the misfortunate Slaves a similar violence to which They had been subjected at home

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I saw here on the plantation How the worst tyrants of all are those Who are themselves enslaved (Mimics driver) You nigger---I say, you black nigger You no hear me call you---what for You no run quick I overheard one say With utter contempt for his fellow Negro Now Masters may well have had another More subtle even more important reason For keeping slaves and Irish well separated While digging the Brunswick Canal For even if the Irish are brawlers fighters Drinkers rioters loathers of the blacks They are also capable of great generosity And having cherished some nominal degree Of freedom they understand the meaning Of moral indignation in the face of wrongdoing Hence such ardent spirits might generate An emotional empathy with their enslaved counterparts That could indeed endanger the interests Of Georgian slave owners So no my friends the right comparison Is not between slaves and European peasants But with the brute animals because the slave Is damned to a similar level of ability Or achievement for I saw how even When a slave works for the best of masters Happy as a puppy in his role he still

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Must live without the growth of an Intelligent moral self that would Raise him above the level of the animal Which reminds me how the masters justify Their unjust enslavement saying: (Personifying Pierce) Negroes are by their very nature As a race indolent and filthy, incapable of improvement However I insist that this is because They are despised denounced railed against Castigated vilified marked as the Hebrews Who were once scorned as pariahs But should any single Negro Achieve the accomplishments of a Northern white in science, knowledge Erudition he would surely have to be Regarded the finest specimen of humanity In having overcome the slave condition To pursue that which the white man Practices as a right and here we see the real reason Why such heavy penalties are imposed On anyone who might educate the Negroes For it would undermine the masters Power over these outcasts Oh and by the way there are no laws Prohibiting us to teach southern horses Knowing that brutes are indeed incapable Of rising above the brute condition

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And this shows us all that the masters know Only too well the intelligence of their slaves Again a visiting master said one day (Personifying one of Pierces friends with Southern accent) Any kind of instruction would only Make slaves unhappy thereby diminishing The value of their masters property But from what I have seen it is clear That the slave is unhappy unwilling Because of what he has learned to feel About being a debased degraded race Controlled at every turn words scrutinized For seditious content movements restricted To within the plantation re-located tethered Shackled yoked a regular secure life indeed So one day I asked a man designated By my husband to act as escort to the Missis If he would like to be free Oh how his face lit up But then the poor man muttered (Mimics slave) What for me wish to be free? Oh! No, Missis, me no wish to be free. If massa only let we keep pig Like all slaves he knew well that every Display of discontent must be suppressed Seeking only to conciliate the Missis That natural longing glowing in every feature Of his countenance was denied in word

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So I asked once more and he replied (Mimics slave) No, Missis, me no want to be free Me work till me die for Missis and Massa. Again repeating his request for a pig Something permitted a slave on this plantation In former and maybe happier times Now let me touch on another anomaly Their masters recoil from amalgamation Something I believe that if agreeable to the Parties themselves intermarriage could only Benefit both and indeed in confirmation Of this view some in the lower class of Whites in the south live with Negro women So this uproar against amalgamation Seems to be an acquired indulgence Rather than anything intuitive Indeed southern gentlemen are so enamored Of African beauty that the slaves bear Their children at every turn increasing Their stock of property so dont tell me That whites see no beauty in the Negress Nor that they feel obliged to restrain From the kind of intimacy that increases The numbers of this so-called inferior race Again we can only recoil in shock For while such concubinage among The masters may be rampant Georgian State law prohibits intermarriage

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Which Germans call the Black Bridal But this debauchery among the masters When it comes to Negro women in their power Is not the only consequence of slavery But so too is the very nature of poor whites The direct result of this slavery Planters decry this lower class population Disparaging them as miserable vagabonds But cannot see that work is viewed as the Shameful measure of Negro slaves Such that poor whites will choose Starvation rather than till the soil Indeed it is also preferable to steal From planters and this gives me pause For what must slaves and poor whites Have thought of me when I rowed the boat Washed the sick swept the floor Now on the cotton plantation at St. Simons I rode a great big stallion Montreal I called him And unlike Butler Island we had Some communication with neighboring planters One afternoon when done with all My tasks among the slaves I visited With the wife of one such They had but a small farm A step above poor whites to be sure I know you will find this hard to believe But there was such an air of despondency

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Dereliction in that place with its unkempt Shack weed-ridden grounds not to speak Of the drab and ragged mistress so much The opposite to a Yankee farmer That hailed from similar English ancestry Now the lady of the house declared I was fortunate to have a nursemaid That cared for my girls since the Negro Women were totally incompetent a fact She illustrated with a thousand examples To which I listened as though in awe Til finally we ended in agreement A twelve year old Negro girl was not As competent or reliable as a well-trained Irish white woman over thirty And delving again into this subject Of how slavery affects the whites Chatting with Mr. Roswell King Jr. Formerly our plantation manager and overseer I learned of a curious body of whites The so-called Pinelanders of Georgia who I deemed to be the most debased race to claim An English heritage for Mr. King Chronicled in detail how they were Filthy lazy ignorant brutal proud penniless Savages without a single noble attribute They own no slaves but do not work He said and pray why not I asked (Personifying Mr. King)

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To labor would drag them down To the level of Negroes thats why They squat steal starve Now this whole population of poor whites Form a barricade so to speak Between white and black races For though despoiled themselves They stand proud of the one precious Thing they have that basic freedom Which keeps them at a distance From those who labor under the whip Yet despite such liberty their attitude Towards work deprives them of any Vision with respect to self-improvement Free to read write learn the lower class of whites Do not do what is forbidden by law to the Negro I can only conclude that blacks who work Under the lash but have no freedom And whites who have their freedom But think work beneath them have this in common Neither seems capable of self-driven development Now whites are threatened with harsh Punishment should they teach a slave to read But if as the masters say the Negro is truly An inferior being worthy of a brutes existence Why this fear of educating him while experiencing No dread of teaching a dog or a cow at least To the degree they can comprehend And no one is punished for reasoning about

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Truth democracy or liberty to a bird No the reason for this ruthless prohibition Is clear all the masters know only too well That the beastly Negroes can grasp the truth And would happily embrace it thereby Leaving their masters powerless Now Mr. Roswell King was well experienced As to the effects of slavery having Managed plantations for a lifetime But he shocked me one day proclaiming How much he hated slavery for he said It condemned those States in which it Prevailed to falling fifty years behind All others in terms of production and Prosperity for all moreover he observed (Personifying Mr. King) 'As for its being an irremediable evil--a thing not to be helped or got rid of--that's all nonsense, for as soon as people become convinced it is in their interest to get rid of it, they will find the means to do so, depend upon it.' Now it is not true as many in the north Believe that southerners deplore The evils of slavery and would end it If they had the means to do so For as Mr. King said if the masters Saw slavery as contrary to their monetary Interests they would get out from

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Under such a burden and fast But I have seen what a renowned Carolinian I once met asserted in concluding Our conversation on the matter (Personifying the Carolinian) 'I'll tell you why abolition is impossible: Because every healthy Negro can fetch a Thousand dollars in the Charleston market Here I would like to relate a somewhat Different take on the situation Given by our cross-eyed overseer at the time Mr. Thomas Oden who opined the fewer Slaves that can read the better though When asked if those who read Were more insubordinate he stated That he had no special complaint against them But believed that every step they took in The direction of intelligence would Make them less likely to acquiesce In their condition and as I remained Silent he went on (Mimics the overseer Mr.Oden) I dont say whether its right or wrong Thereby showing me how slavery is clearly Seen to be wrong but when speaking Among whites the moral issue is set aside Even as all its ugly consequences for Negroes Are eloquently asserted defended excused (Again mimics overseer)

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How I deplore such religious instruction As is given slaves he continued And to my amazement we found Ourselves to be in agreement As I said before this religious instruction Was indeed a dangerous experiment But then came the most astounding Declaration from our cruel overseer (mimics the overseer) Free labor is much more lucrative for the planter since forced labor is of poor quality and produces only a nominal quantity while their upkeep costs a fortune So! Lo and behold but our slave driver Though unwilling to discuss the morality Of slavery was at bottom a staunch abolitionist! As the days for my departure hurried along With the arrival of Spring I have to say That after four months of dreary cold Wintry days on those plantations I was So weary of it all and could only hope That upon my departure God would Provide for those misfortunate slaves But their tribulations grew for years later Pierce Butler was to escape bankruptcy By selling off the slaves who were scattered About the south their families and communities Broken up in the biggest slave auction ever

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A sad deafening proclamation on The evils of being owned But my Journal was timely served its purpose Rallied the British public as sections Were read in the House of Commons And to cotton workers in Manchester The Ladies Emancipation Society of London Quoted passages in their pamphlet Printed in the hundreds of thousands Limiting the engagement of my government With the Confederacy depriving it Of much needed loans for this war And that success inspires me To turn my guns on another Equally criminal institution Enshrined in our laws that must also Be abolished ---pernicious Patriarchy We departed the plantation going back To Philadelphia our marriage in tatters Such that Pierce drew up A set of conditions if I wished to live Under his roof and see my children For you all know that under American law The children are the fathers legal property Let me read to you these evil conditions (Fanny picks up a sheet of paper and reads) Being about to reside in Mr. Butlers house, I promise to observe the following conditions while living under his roof: I will give up all acquaintances and intercourse of whatever kind, whether by word or letter with every member of the

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Sedgwick family, and hereafter I will treat them in every respect as entire strangers and as if I had never known them. I will not keep up an acquaintance with any person of whom Mr. Butler may disapprove. I will observe an entire abstinence from all reference to the past. Neither will I mention to any person any circumstance which may occur in Mr. Butlers house of family. I will neither write nor speak of Mr. Butler to anyone while I remain under his roof. I will also conform to the arrangement of his house as I shall find them on entering it, and I promise, if I find myself unable to fulfill any of the aforesaid conditions, immediately to give notice to Mr. Butler of my inability to do so and to leave his house . . . I [Pierce Butler] require also that Mrs. Butler shall not speak of me. Neither will I mention her name to anyone, and communication that I may have to make to her shall be made in writing and shall be addressed to herself. Under no circumstances will I allow the intervention of a third person in any matter between us after she enters my family. Despite my signature on that agreement I was so harassed by my husband at times Denied access to my children that I went back To England and soon thereafter heard He was seeking a divorce saying and I quote "willfully, maliciously, and without due cause, deserted him on September 11, 1845." I returned to defend myself against His pernicious patriarchal prerogatives But failed for after our divorce in 1849 He was given custody of my girls Until they reached twenty one years In accordance with the law of the land That denied us women our precious rights However this separation gave me Relief from despotism since from day one He had sought to curb my independent spirit Hence tonight in 1863 having returned

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To Philadelphia I not only make my case Against slavery but also oppose the institution Of Patriarchal privilege which applies equally To slaves and women denying us the Fullness of liberty every human deserves (Song: Swing Low Sweet Chariot: The Gospel Trains A Comin)