Life on a Plantation - A Journal - written for 10th grade English

Ninth of September, 1860

Dear Journal,

Father gave this journal to me today. He says that it will always be there for me to put my feelings into, on account that often in life I won’t be able to express myself, due to the order and way of things. I would much rather tell people my feelings, than a book, but pa says that in certain times it would be forbidden. Such circumstances would include what happened today. I suppose I must start at the beginning.

Since I was young, I was taken care of by a nanny, one of the house slaves. Her name was Sarah, but I just called her Nanna. She watched over me and made sure I kept to my mother and father’s rules. There were few times when I was not with her. She left to do other chores when I was with mother, who taught me to knit, play the piano, and sing. We were very close, nanna and I.

One day, about a week ago, Nanna came to me and asked, “Miss Anna, if’n I was ever t’ go ‘way, you’s wouldn’t forgets me, would ya?”

I, of course, told her I would never forget her and began to ask questions.

“Just promise me this: if’n I goes, take cares of my Ida. You's and hers is friends. Please’m, be kind t’ her like you is to me,” she said.

I promised, and she changed the subject, but I kept on questioning her and she finally admitted.

“I knows how t’ read and write, Miss Anna. And I thinks they’re mighty suspicious. I been teach’n it too’m. I wishes now I never knowed or teached it.”

I told her there was nothing wrong, but she kept insisting it was “bad of me's to knows it and teach it t’ others.”

Well, today, Nanna didn’t come. I sat and waited until my father came and apologized. He said that there was some business he had to tend to before I could go downstairs.

It was very awkward at breakfast. Mother kept quiet and father stumbled over his words. When the kitchen slave came to serve us, he trembled and shook; his words were stiff and full of fear. Then all of a sudden, father and mother stood up.

“Anna, you are almost thirteen now, and… well, we feel it is time for you to start your tutoring with a governess,” father told me.

“Where is Nanna?” I asked.

“Sarah has been sold, dear,” mother replied. “You will begin your tutoring within the month.”

“What about Ida?” I asked.

“Ida has been sent to work in the fields. You do not need a playmate any more,” mother answered.

“According to this letter,” father said, looking down at a letter he had been reading, “Mrs. Tucker will arrive on the 21st of the month, twelve days from now. Here child, you may read it yourself.” He handed it to me. “Perhaps you will learn a little about your new governess.”

The day continued as any other would. I spent time with my mother learning music, knitting, spelling, and a bit of poetry and history.

Around sunset, father called me to the sitting room. He explained to me that Nanna had been found to have the ability to read and write.

“It is illegal for a slave to know these things,” he told me, “I had to sell her to set an example.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“I know this is hard for you. This is the way things are, however, and they are not meant to be changed. Nanna is a slave, mere property, just like all the rest of those things. She is like a dog that has to be sold or die. They don’t have real feelings. We are superior to them, whether we like it or not. This is the way things are. You can’t change them and someday you will have to learn to accept it.”

It was then that he gave me this journal and dismissed me to go back to my studies or playing. I just don’t understand it. I just don’t.

Love, Anna



Tenth of September, 1860

Dear Journal,

My days are the same here. There is not much to talk about what happens during the day, but at night, there is.

Tonight I snuck out to see Ida. Oh, how I miss her. Carrying a small candle, I found my way to the slave’s quarters, but was attracted to another area, the praise house. I could hear the men shouting and singing and the women saying “praise the Lord!” I peaked through a window and saw that there were slaves gathered, worshiping. After a few minutes, the singing stopped and a man stood up. He began shouting and yelling, lifting up a book in his hand, and saying how it was the answer to everything. He read from the book, which I then realized to be a Bible. The passage he was reading was one I had not heard before, about Moses and how he freed the Israelites. In the corner, I could see Ida, curled up. She did not look very happy, but by the end of the preaching, she had a smile on her face.

I hid in a bush as the slaves left to go back to their huts. I did not manage to find Ida among the crowd but once everyone had left, I went inside to look around. It was a small room, only enough seats to fit about 100. There was a stage in the front of the room, and a table next to it. On the table, I found a Bible. I flipped through its pages. There were a few notes written here and there. It was a rugged, old Bible, dusty, with ripped and folded pages.

A noise came from outside, so I put the Bible down and ran outside and back to the house where I climbed the stairs to my room and sat down to begin to write. I will have to put my candle out soon, before father wakes up and finds me awake. I am curious about such things as I just saw. It seems to me that I can recall father saying that such late night meetings were not allowed, and the preacher had been reading.

Love, Anna

Eleventh of September, 1860

Dear Journal,

A very interesting thing happened today, and I’m afraid to tell father about it.

I was walking about, during my free time. I thought I might go and say hello to Ida. So I went to where the slave huts were and no one was there. I went inside one of the huts, only to discover a horrible thing. There was only one room in the hut and there was no furniture at all except for about seven or eight bunk beds. I can’t imagine it, ten to fourteen people living in one, single, measly, terrible hut. It was dirty, dust was everywhere. The beds were made of hay and had no pillows; only one, small sheet. I left right away and headed towards the fields.

“Miss, you aint suppose’ to be here,” one slave told me, “These is the cotton fields. Goes back to your sweet gardens and comfy house.”

I could not find Ida, so I turned and went back towards the house. On the way, I passed a few slaves who were talking. Father said the slaves weren’t allowed to talk, so I listened. They said something about running away in a day or two. They were making plans and I knew! Now what was I supposed to do?

I think I will tell father tomorrow. I hope he doesn’t send them away like he did nanna, but I know it is the right thing to do. For mother says it is a sin to help slaves, and I would be helping those slaves by not telling father about their planning to run away. I don’t want to sin.

Love, Anna



Twelfth of September, 1860

Dear Journal,

I told father today about the slaves I saw planning an escape, and the meeting I had seen in the praise house. He was furious and this afternoon he called everyone on the plantation to come to the back of the house where he said there would be a demonstration.

I looked at the faces of the slaves and saw Ida: she looked terrified. But there was a man standing there holding her tight. He was one of the two I had seen the day before plotting an escape. When father had me point out the slaves who I had seen in the fields, I almost felt sick, but I did it, and felt bad for it, too, for the man holding Ida turned out to be Ida’s father.

Father took the two slaves I had pointed out and had them stand in front of everyone.

“Let this serve as an example,” he said. “These slaves were planning an escape, as seen by my daughter. For this attempt, I must see to it that they are punished. One of them will be whipped and hung, and the other whipped and sold.” He motioned for one of the slaves to come to him and said, “Fetch us a carriage to take these men to town.”

Ida’s father ended up being hung, and I was dead sorry for it. As I watched the whipping go on, I could not bear the sight, and poor Ida crying. Father noticed my face and said, “This is the way it has to be. You may go.”

The preacher I had seen was also called up, before I left, to be beaten. He was found to be carrying a Bible on him. I stole the Bible from father before he could do anything with it. I keep it under my bed now, and pull it out every once in a while to read, and remember.

Love, Anna





Sunday, Fifteenth of September, 1860

Dear Journal,

Today I went to church with mother and father. I though it would be a great relief. Ever since the whippings of those three men, I cannot help but think of the way slaves are treated. They work all day and get little rest. Once a month they are allowed to have a supervised church gathering, without any reading. Father says that a lot of them are starting to go back to their ancestor’s ways. Their rituals scare mother a lot. She keeps demanding that father put a stop to it, but father won’t. He says he prefers voodoo over Christianity for the slaves. It means we don’t have to feel like we are spiritually equal to them.

As for me, I care about the slaves. Mrs. Corbett, our neighbor, says they have souls too, and therefore should be evangelized. Father says that there has been a growth in black preaching lately. He says that people from all over, blacks and whites, come to see them. Today, the church was allowing for blacks to come sit in the back to watch a black man preach. Father feels ashamed that they are being more lenient to them. He says that the abolitionists in the North are enough trouble as it is. I suppose I enjoyed the sermon. Father would not let any of our slaves come. I wished Ida could have come, but she probably hates me now.

When I got home, I wrote a letter to Mrs. Tucker, my soon to be governess. I told her a bit about myself, and how I was looking forward to her coming. Then I sat down in the drawing room to knit for a little bit.

The rest of the day was boring. It was a normal, relaxing Sunday. Still, when I went to bed, I could not help but pulling out that Bible and giving it one more look before putting the candle out.

Love, Anna



Twenty-First of September, 1860

Dear Journal,

The house was full of energy today. All the house slaves were busy getting ready for the arrival of Mrs. Tucker. Father says she is a good teacher, and that she will have a great influence on me.

Around noon, my new governess arrived. She was an elderly, quiet woman, quite a radical, though. She was one of few working women at the time and believed strongly in it. She seemed to take well to me. I like her. Although she is quite like father in that she believes in slavery, she believes in treating them well.

When mother claimed that one of the house slaves stole her necklace, father ordered that the slave be whipped and gagged to go without food for three days. Mrs. Tucker, however, was quite against such a large punishment and convinced father to let the slave get off with a short whipping and a warning. I do not think mother likes her very much, but she seems pleased with the education I will be getting, so she makes no complaint. Lunch was delightful with Mrs. Tucker, and so was dinner. She brought conversation to our table. I am very excited now and cannot wait to start my first lesson tomorrow.

Love, Anna



Twenty-fifth of September, 1860

Dear Journal,

Mrs. Tucker is wonderful and so are my lessons! No day is boring with her about the house. Today, she took me out on a walk and educated me on the way things are done in both the South and the North. Everything sounds lovely. Then she took me inside and had me read poetry to her. Next, I had a spelling lesson and then math.

I am learning to accept the way things are. I do not think of slaves as property, but consider them lower than me. Still, I cannot help but hope that one day we will be equal. Father says I am beginning to think like a young woman and mother says her influence is rubbing off on me. There is going to be a ball next week. I am excited. It should be lovely and I will get to meet all of mother and father’s friends. It will be my first party with so many people.

I looked out my window this morning and saw the slaves hard at work. There was Ida, picking cotton. I could smell the breakfast being made down in the kitchen. In the slave huts, a few slaves were just leaving. Some of the house slaves were leaving their huts as well. Some of the slaves were in the slave garden where they would grow food that would provide a healthier nutrition. The trees’ leaves swayed in the wind and there was mother, walking in the gardens. It was a mixture of both terrible and wonderful sights. But I knew I had to get on with my life. It is a shame that some of us are forced to wear such masks.

Ida got sick today. Father is forcing her to work. I didn’t complain. I know the facts now. Many women, even pregnant women, are whipped for their disobedience. They are forced to work in the hardest conditions while us, whites, just sit and walk about, as happy as can be. Father says this is the way things are, but he doubts it will last much longer because of more and more abolitionists on the move and Lincoln running for president. He says that the conditions of slaves are kept to keep the slaves below us as they should be. Mrs. Tucker says that slaves who get sick and are forced to work, often die. I am worried.

A few more slaves were caught reading today. They were whipped and sold.

I wonder where Nanna is right now. I often wonder about the way things are, but I guess that they just are.

Love, Anna