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Author: Elayne Bond Hyman Publisher: ISBN: 9780578617312 Category : Languages : en Pages :
Book Description
Catoctin SlaveSpeak is a collection of narrative poems in the voices of enslaved Africans, as well as their enslaved descendants, who were imported to work at the Catoctin Iron Furnace in Thurmont, Maryland. The poems are meant to be read aloud. They are based on available archeological and forensic anthropological evidence resulting from studies conducted on behalf of the Catoctin Furnace Historical Society. They also draw on general knowledge of the peculiar institution of slavery in the United States of America and throughout the African diaspora. They are the result of many hours of walking the earth, visiting the cemetery, studying the history, quiet listening, intuitive knowing, and creative writing by the author, Elayne Bond Hyman. They have been read on several different occasions to audiences in Maryland. The purpose of this publication is to broaden the reading and listening audience, thus giving voice to a heretofore voiceless and often ignored and uncredited segment of Maryland's historic population. Their availability in printed form will enrich the experience of visitors interested in learning the full story of the Catoctin Iron Furnace, beyond the archeological and historic interpretation available in the Museum of the Ironworker. This poetic, artistic, and emotional enrichment can foster a changed conversation about who the founding mothers and fathers of this nation really were.
Author: Elayne Bond Hyman Publisher: ISBN: 9780578617312 Category : Languages : en Pages :
Book Description
Catoctin SlaveSpeak is a collection of narrative poems in the voices of enslaved Africans, as well as their enslaved descendants, who were imported to work at the Catoctin Iron Furnace in Thurmont, Maryland. The poems are meant to be read aloud. They are based on available archeological and forensic anthropological evidence resulting from studies conducted on behalf of the Catoctin Furnace Historical Society. They also draw on general knowledge of the peculiar institution of slavery in the United States of America and throughout the African diaspora. They are the result of many hours of walking the earth, visiting the cemetery, studying the history, quiet listening, intuitive knowing, and creative writing by the author, Elayne Bond Hyman. They have been read on several different occasions to audiences in Maryland. The purpose of this publication is to broaden the reading and listening audience, thus giving voice to a heretofore voiceless and often ignored and uncredited segment of Maryland's historic population. Their availability in printed form will enrich the experience of visitors interested in learning the full story of the Catoctin Iron Furnace, beyond the archeological and historic interpretation available in the Museum of the Ironworker. This poetic, artistic, and emotional enrichment can foster a changed conversation about who the founding mothers and fathers of this nation really were.
Author: United States Work Projects Administration Publisher: Library of Alexandria ISBN: 1465612165 Category : Fiction Languages : en Pages : 1556
Book Description
"My folks allus belongs to the Cavins and wore their name till after 'mancipation. Pa and ma was named Freeman and Amelia Cavin and Massa Dave fotches them to Texas from Alabama, along with ma's mother, what we called Maria. "The Cavins allus thunk lots of their niggers and Grandma Maria say, 'Why shouldn't they—it was their money.' She say there was plenty Indians here when they settled this country and they bought and traded with them without killin' them, if they could. The Indians was poor folks, jus' pilfer and loaf 'round all the time. The niggers was a heap sight better off than they was, 'cause we had plenty to eat and a place to stay. "Young Massa Tom was my special massa and he still lives here. Old Man Dave seemed to think more of his niggers than anybody and we thunk lots of our white folks. My pa was leader on the farm, and there wasn't no overseer or driver. When pa whip a nigger he needn't go to Massa Dave, but pa say, 'Go you way, you nigger. Freeman didn't whip you for nothin'.' Massa Dave allus believe pa, 'cause he tells the truth. "One time a peddler come to our house and after supper he goes to see 'bout his pony. Pa done feed that pony fifteen ears of corn. The peddler tell massa his pony ain't been fed nothin', and massa git mad and say, 'Be on you way iffen you gwine 'cuse my niggers of lyin'.' "We had good quarters and plenty to eat. I 'members when I's jus' walkin' round good pa come in from the field at night and taken me out of bed and dress me and feed me and then play with me for hours. Him bein' leader, he's gone from 'fore day till after night. The old heads got out early but us young scraps slep' till eight or nine o'clock, and don't you think Massa Dave ain't comin' round to see we is fed. I 'members him like it was yest'day, comin' to the quarters with his stick and askin' us, 'Had your breakfas'?' We'd say, 'Yes, suh.' Then he'd ask if we had 'nough or wanted any more. It look like he taken a pleasure in seein' us eat. At dinner, when the field hands come in, it am the same way. He was sho' that potlicker was fill as long as the niggers want to eat. "The hands worked from sun to sun. Massa give them li'l crops and let them work them on Saturday. Then he bought the stuff and the niggers go to Jefferson and buy clothes and sech like. Lots saved money and bought freedom 'fore the war was over. "We went to church and first the white preacher preached and then he larns our cullud preachers. I seed him ordain a cullud preacher and he told him to allus be honest. When the white preacher laid his hand on him, all the niggers git to hollerin' and shoutin' and prayin' and that nigger git scart mos' to death.
Author: United States Work Projects Administration Publisher: Library of Alexandria ISBN: 1465612157 Category : Fiction Languages : en Pages : 90
Book Description
"I dunno jes how ole I ez. I wuz baw'n 'yer in Nashville, durin' slabery. I must be way pas' 90 fer I member de Yankee soldiers well. De chilluns called dem de 'blue mans.' Mah white folks wuz named Crockett. Dr. Crockett wuz our marster but I don't member 'im mahse'f. He d'ed w'en I wuz small. Mah marster wuz mean ter mah mammy w'en her oler chilluns would run 'way. Mah oler br'er went ter war wid mah marster. Mah younger br'er run 'way, dey caught 'im, tuk 'im home en whup'd 'im. He run 'way en wuz nebber found." "We wuzn't sold but mah mammy went 'way, en lef' me en I got up one mawnin' went ter mah mammy's room, she wuz gon'. I cried en cried fer her. Mah Missis wouldn't let me outa' de house, fer fear I'd try ter find her. Atter freedum mah br'er en a Yankee soldier kum in a waggin en git us. Mah white folks sed, I don' see why you ez takin' dez chilluns. Mah brudder said, 'We ez free now.' I member one whup'in mah missis gib me. Me en her daughter slipped 'way ter de river ter fish. We kotch a fish en mah missis had hit cooked fer us but whup'd us fer goin' ter de river." "Whar de Buena Vista schul ez hit useter be a Yankee soldiers Barrick. Eber mawnin' dey hadder music. We chilluns would go on de hill, (whar the bag mill ez now) en listen ter dem. I member a black hoss de soldiers had, dat ef you called 'im Jeff Davis he would run you." "I member de ole well on Cedar Street, neah de Capitol, en six mules fell in hit. Dat wuz back w'en blackberries wuz growin' on de Capitol Hill. En Morgan Park wuz called de pleasure gyarden. En hit wuz full ob Yankee soldiers. Atter de war dere wuz so many German peeple ober 'yer, dat fum Jefferson Street, ter Clay Street, wuz called Dutch town."
Author: United States Work Projects Administration Publisher: Library of Alexandria ISBN: 1465612149 Category : Fiction Languages : en Pages : 1349
Book Description
"Marse Glenn had 64 slaves. On Sat'day night, de darkies would have a little fun on de side. A way off from de big house, down in de pastur' dar wuz about de bigges' gully what I is ebber seed. Dat wuz de place whar us collected mos' ev'ry Sa'day night fer our lil' mite o' fun frum de white folks hearin'. Sometime it wuz so dark dat you could not see de fingers on yo' han' when you would raise it fo' your face. Dem wuz sho' schreechy nights; de schreechiest what I is ever witnessed, in all o' my born natu'al days. Den of cose, dar wuz de moonlight nights when a darky could see; den he see too much. De pastur' wuz big and de trees made dark spots in it on de brightest nights. All kind o' varmints tuck and hollered at ye as ye being gwine along to reach dat gully. Cose us would go in droves sometime, and den us would go alone to de gully sometime. When us started together, look like us would git parted 'fo we reach de gully all together. One of us see som'tin and take to runnin'. Maybe de other darkies in de drove, de wouldn't see nothin' jes den. Dats zactly how it is wid de spirits. De mout (might) sho de'self to you and not to me. De acts raal queer all de way round. Dey can take a notion to scare de daylights outtin you when you is wid a gang; or dey kin scare de whole gang; den, on de other hand, dey kin sho de'self off to jes two or three. It ain't never no knowin' as to how and when dem things is gwine to come in your path right fo your very eyes; specially when you is partakin' in some raal dark secret whar you is planned to act raal sof' and quiet like all de way through. "Dem things bees light on dark nights; de shines de'self jes like dese 'lectric lights does out dar in dat street ever' night, 'cept dey is a scaird waary light dat dey shines wid. On light nights, I is seed dem look, furs dark like a tree shad'er; den dey gits raal scairy white. T'aint no use fer white folks to low dat it ain't no haints, an' grievements dat follows ye all around, kaise I is done had to many 'spriences wid dem. Den dare is dese young niggers what ain't fit to be called darkies, dat tries to ac' eddicated, and says dat it ain't any spe'rits dat walks de earth. When dey lows dat to me, I rolls my old eyes at dem an' axes dem how comes dey runs so fas' through de woods at night. Yes sirree, dem fool niggers sees dem jes as I does. Raaly de white folks doesn't have eyes fer sech as we darkies does; but dey bees dare jes de same.
Author: Nassau William Senior Publisher: ISBN: Category : Slavery Languages : en Pages : 218
Book Description
Reprints the text of Charles Sumner's speech which Preston Brooks responded to by attacking Sumner with a cane on May 22, two days after the speech concluded; reprints several reactions to Brooks's attack on Sumner.
Author: Elayne Bond Hyman
Author: Elayne Bond Hyman
Author: United States Work Projects Administration
Author: Elizabeth Y. Anderson
Author: United States Work Projects Administration
Author: Horace Mann
Author: DoVeanna S. Fulton Minor
Author: Horace MANN (Secretary to the Board of Education of the State of Massachusetts.)
Author: United States Work Projects Administration
Author: Nassau William Senior
Author: Horace Mann