A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE SLAVE PLANTATION.
Home Plantation of Colonel Lloyd--Its Isolation--Its Industries--
The Slave Rule--Power of Overseers--Author finds some Enjoyment--
Natural Scenery--Sloop “Sally Lloyd”--Wind Mill--Slave Quarter--
“Old Master’s” House--Stables, Store Houses, etc., etc.--The Great
House--Its Surroundings--Lloyd--Burial-Place--Superstition of
Slaves--Colonel Lloyd’s Wealth--Negro Politeness--Doctor Copper--
Captain Anthony--His Family--Master Daniel Lloyd--His Brothers--
Social Etiquette.
It was generally supposed that slavery in the State of Maryland existed
in its mildest form, and that it was totally divested of those harsh
and terrible peculiarities which characterized the slave system in the
Southern and South Western States of the American Union. The ground of
this opinion was the contiguity of the free States, and the influence
of their moral, religious, and humane sentiments. Public opinion
was, indeed, a measurable restraint upon the cruelty and barbarity
of masters, overseers, and slave-drivers, whenever and wherever it
could reach them; but there were certain secluded and out of the way
places, even in the State of Maryland, fifty years ago, seldom visited
by a single ray of healthy public sentiment, where slavery, wrapt in
its own congenial darkness, could and did develop all its malign and
shocking characteristics, where it could be indecent without shame,
cruel without shuddering, and murderous without apprehension or fear
of exposure, or punishment. Just such a secluded, dark, and out of
the way place, was the home plantation of Colonel Edward Lloyd, in
Talbot county, eastern shore of Maryland. It was far away from all
the great thoroughfares of travel and commerce, and proximate to no
town or village. There was neither school-house nor town-house in
its neighborhood. The school-house was unnecessary, for there were
no children to go to school. The children and grandchildren of Col.
Lloyd were taught in the house by a private tutor (a Mr. Page from
Greenfield, Massachusetts, a tall, gaunt, sapling of a man, remarkably
dignified, thoughtful, and reticent, and who did not speak a dozen
words to a slave in a whole year). The overseer’s children went off
somewhere in the State to school, and therefore could bring no foreign
or dangerous influence from abroad to embarrass the natural operation
of the slave system of the place. Not even the commonest mechanics,
from whom there might have been an occasional outburst of honest and
telling indignation at cruelty and wrong on other plantations, were
white men here. Its whole public was made up of and divided into
three classes, slaveholders, slaves, and overseers. Its blacksmiths,
wheelwrights, shoemakers, weavers, and coopers, were slaves. Not even
commerce, selfish and indifferent to moral considerations as it usually
is, was permitted within its secluded precincts. Whether with a view
of guarding against the escape of its secrets, I know not, but it is
a fact, that every leaf and grain of the products of this plantation
and those of the neighboring farms, belonging to Col. Lloyd, were
transported to Baltimore in his own vessels, every man and boy on board
of which, except the captain, were owned by him as his property. In
return, everything brought to the plantation came through the same
channel. To make this isolation more apparent it may be stated that the
adjoining estates to Col. Lloyd’s were owned and occupied by friends of
his, who were as deeply interested as himself in maintaining the slave
system in all its rigor. These were the Tilgmans, the Goldboroughs,
the Lockermans, the Pacas, the Skinners, Gibsons, and others of lesser
affluence and standing.
The fact is, public opinion in such a quarter, the reader must see, was
not likely to be very efficient in protecting the slave from cruelty.
To be a restraint upon abuses of this nature, opinion must emanate from
humane and virtuous communities, and to no such opinion or influence
was Col. Lloyd’s plantation exposed. It was a little nation by itself,
having its own language, its own rules, regulations, and customs. The
troubles and controversies arising here were not settled by the civil
power of the State. The overseer was the important dignitary. He was
generally accuser, judge, jury, advocate, and executioner. The criminal
was always dumb--and no slave was allowed to testify, other than
against his brother slave.
There were, of course, no conflicting rights of property, for all the
people were the property of one man, and they could themselves own no
property. Religion and politics were largely excluded. One class of the
population was too high to be reached by the common preacher, and the
other class was too low in condition and ignorance to be much cared for
by religious teachers, and yet some religious ideas did enter this dark
corner.
This, however, is not the only view which the place presented. Though
civilization was in many respects shut out, nature could not be. Though
separated from the rest of the world, though public opinion, as I
have said, could seldom penetrate its dark domain, though the whole
place was stamped with its own peculiar iron-like individuality, and
though crimes, high-handed and atrocious, could be committed there
with strange and shocking impunity, it was to outward seeming a most
strikingly interesting place, full of life, activity, and spirit,
and presented a very favorable contrast to the indolent monotony and
languor of Tuckahoe. It resembled in some respects descriptions I
have since read of the old baronial domains of Europe. Keen as was my
regret, and great as was my sorrow, at leaving my old home, I was not
long in adapting myself to this my new one. A man’s troubles are always
half disposed of when he finds endurance the only alternative. I found
myself here; there was no getting away; and naught remained for me but
to make the best of it. Here were plenty of children to play with, and
plenty of pleasant resorts for boys of my age and older. The little
tendrils of affection so rudely broken from the darling objects in and
around my grandmother’s home, gradually began to extend and twine
themselves around the new surroundings. Here for the first time I saw
a large wind-mill, with its wide-sweeping white wings, a commanding
object to a child’s eye. This was situated on what was called Long
Point--a tract of land dividing Miles river from the Wye. I spent many
hours here watching the wings of this wondrous mill. In the river,
or what was called the “Swash,” at a short distance from the shore,
quietly lying at anchor, with her small row boat dancing at her stern,
was a large sloop, the Sally Lloyd, called by that name in honor of
the favorite daughter of the Colonel. These two objects, the sloop and
mill, as I remember, awakened thoughts, ideas, and wondering. Then
here were a great many houses, human habitations full of the mysteries
of life at every stage of it. There was the little red house up the
road, occupied by Mr. Seveir, the overseer; a little nearer to my
old master’s stood a long, low, rough building literally alive with
slaves of all ages, sexes, conditions, sizes, and colors. This was
called the long quarter. Perched upon a hill east of our house, was a
tall dilapidated old brick building, the architectural dimensions of
which proclaimed its creation for a different purpose, now occupied by
slaves, in a similar manner to the long quarters. Besides these, there
were numerous other slave houses and huts, scattered around in the
neighborhood, every nook and corner of which, were completely occupied.
Old master’s house, a long brick building, plain but substantial,
was centrally located, and was an independent establishment. Besides
these houses there were barns, stables, store houses, tobacco-houses,
blacksmith shops, wheelwright shops, cooper shops; but above all there
stood the grandest building my young eyes had ever beheld, called by
everyone on the plantation the _great_ house. This was occupied by
Col. Lloyd and his family. It was surrounded by numerous and variously
shaped out-buildings. There were kitchens, wash-houses, dairies,
summer-houses, green-houses, hen-houses, turkey-houses, pigeon-houses,
and arbors of many sizes and devices, all neatly painted or
whitewashed--interspersed with grand old trees, ornamental and
primitive, which afforded delightful shade in summer and imparted to
the scene a high degree of stately beauty. The _great_ house itself was
a large white wooden building with wings on three sides of it. In front
a broad portico extended the entire length of the building, supported
by a long range of columns, which gave to the Colonel’s home an air of
great dignity and grandeur. It was a treat to my young and gradually
opening mind to behold this elaborate exhibition of wealth, power, and
beauty.
The carriage entrance to the house was by a large gate, more than a
quarter of a mile distant. The intermediate space was a beautiful
lawn, very neatly kept and cared for. It was dotted thickly over with
trees and flowers. The road or lane from the gate to the great house
was richly paved with white pebbles from the beach, and in its course
formed a complete circle around the lawn. Outside this select enclosure
were parks, as about the residences of the English nobility, where
rabbits, deer, and other wild game might be seen peering and playing
about, with “none to molest them or make them afraid.” The tops of
the stately poplars were often covered with red-winged blackbirds,
making all nature vocal with the joyous life and beauty of their wild,
warbling notes. These all belonged to me as well as to Col. Edward
Lloyd, and, whether they did or not, I greatly enjoyed them. Not far
from the great house were the stately mansions of the dead Lloyds--
a place of somber aspect. Vast tombs, embowered beneath the weeping
willow and the fir tree, told of the generations of the family, as well
as their wealth. Superstition was rife among the slaves about this
family burying-ground. Strange sights had been seen there by some of
the older slaves, and I was often compelled to hear stories of shrouded
ghosts, riding on great black horses, and of balls of fire which had
been seen to fly there at midnight, and of startling and dreadful
sounds that had been repeatedly heard. Slaves knew enough of the
Orthodox theology at the time, to consign all bad slaveholders to hell,
and they often fancied such persons wishing themselves back again
to wield the lash. Tales of sights and sounds strange and terrible,
connected with the huge black tombs, were a great security to the
grounds about them, for few of the slaves had the courage to approach
them during the day time. It was a dark, gloomy and forbidding place,
and it was difficult to feel that the spirits of the sleeping dust
there deposited reigned with the blest in the realms of eternal peace.
Here was transacted the business of twenty or thirty different farms,
which, with the slaves upon them, numbering, in all, not less than
a thousand, all belonged to Col. Lloyd. Each farm was under the
management of an overseer, whose word was law.
Mr. Lloyd at this time was very rich. His slaves alone, numbering as
I have said not less than a thousand, were an immense fortune, and
though scarcely a month passed without the sale of one or more lots to
the Georgia traders, there was no apparent diminution in the number
of his human stock. The selling of any to the State of Georgia was a
sore and mournful event to those left behind, as well as to the victims
themselves.
The reader has already been informed of the handicrafts carried on
here by the slaves. “Uncle” Toney was the blacksmith, “Uncle” Harry
the Cartwright, and “Uncle” Abel was the shoemaker, and these had
assistants in their several departments. These mechanics were called
“Uncles” by all the younger slaves, not because they really sustained
that relationship to any, but according to plantation etiquette as a
mark of respect, due from the younger to the older slaves. Strange
and even ridiculous as it may seem, among a people so uncultivated
and with so many stern trials to look in the face, there is not to be
found among any people a more rigid enforcement of the law of respect
to elders than is maintained among them. I set this down as partly
constitutional with the colored race and partly conventional. There
is no better material in the world for making a gentleman than is
furnished in the African.
Among other slave notabilities, I found here one called by everybody,
white and colored, “Uncle” Isaac Copper. It was seldom that a slave,
however venerable, was honored with a surname in Maryland, and so
completely has the south shaped the manners of the north in this
respect that their right to such honor is tardily admitted even now. It
goes sadly against the grain to address and treat a negro as one would
address and treat a white man. But once in a while, even in a slave
state, a negro had a surname fastened to him by common consent. This
was the case with “Uncle” Isaac Copper. When the “Uncle” was dropped,
he was called Doctor Copper. He was both our Doctor of Medicine and our
Doctor of Divinity. Where he took his degree I am unable to say, but he
was too well established in his profession to permit question as to his
native skill, or attainments. One qualification he certainly had. He
was a confirmed cripple, wholly unable to work, and was worth nothing
for sale in the market. Though lame, he was no sluggard. He made his
crutches do him good service, and was always on the alert looking up
the sick, and such as were supposed to need his aid and counsel. His
remedial prescriptions embraced four articles. For diseases of the
body, epsom salts and castor oil; for those of the soul, the “Lord’s
prayer,” and a few stout hickory switches.
I was early sent to Doctor Isaac Copper, with twenty or thirty other
children, to learn the Lord’s prayer. The old man was seated on a huge
three-legged oaken stool, armed with several large hickory switches,
and from the point where he sat, lame as he was, he could reach every
boy in the room. After standing a while to learn what was expected
of us, he commanded us to kneel down. This done, he told us to say
everything he said. “Our Father”--this we repeated after him with
promptness and uniformity--“who art in Heaven,” was less promptly and
uniformly repeated, and the old gentleman paused in the prayer to give
us a short lecture, and to use his switches on our backs.
Everybody in the South seemed to want the privilege of whipping
somebody else. Uncle Isaac, though a good old man, shared the common
passion of his time and country. I cannot say I was much edified by
attendance upon his ministry. There was even at that time something
a little inconsistent and laughable, in my mind, in the blending
of prayer with punishment. I was not long in my new home before I
found that the dread I had conceived of Captain Anthony was in a
measure groundless. Instead of leaping out from some hiding place and
destroying me, he hardly seemed to notice my presence. He probably
thought as little of my arrival there, as of an additional pig to
his stock. He was the chief agent of his employer. The overseers of
all the farms composing the Lloyd estate, were in some sort under
him. The Colonel himself seldom addressed an overseer, or allowed
himself to be addressed by one. To Captain Anthony, therefore, was
committed the headship of all the farms. He carried the keys of all
the storehouses, weighed and measured the allowances of each slave,
at the end of each month; superintended the storing of all goods
brought to the store-house; dealt out the raw material to the different
handicraftsmen, shipped the grain, tobacco, and all other saleable
produce of the numerous farms to Baltimore, and had a general oversight
of all the workshops of the place. In addition to all this he was
frequently called abroad to Easton and elsewhere in the discharge of
his numerous duties as chief agent of the estate.
The family of Captain Anthony consisted of two sons--Andrew and
Richard, his daughter Lucretia and her newly married husband, Captain
Thomas Auld. In the kitchen were Aunt Katy, Aunt Esther, and ten or a
dozen children, most of them older than myself. Capt. Anthony was not
considered a rich slaveholder, though he was pretty well off in the
world. He owned about thirty slaves and three farms in the Tuckahoe
district. The more valuable part of his property was in slaves, of whom
he sold one every year, which brought him in seven or eight hundred
dollars, besides his yearly salary and other revenue from his lands.
I have been often asked during the earlier part of my free life at
the north, how I happened to have so little of the slave accent in my
speech. The mystery is in some measure explained by my association
with Daniel Lloyd, the youngest son of Col. Edward Lloyd. The law of
compensation holds here as well as elsewhere. While this lad could
not associate with ignorance without sharing its shade, he could not
give his black playmates his company without giving them his superior
intelligence as well. Without knowing this, or caring about it at the
time, I, for some cause or other, was attracted to him and was much his
companion.
I had little to do with the older brothers of Daniel--Edward and
Murray. They were grown up and were fine looking men. Edward was
especially esteemed by the slave children and by me among the rest,
not that he ever said anything to us or for us which could be called
particularly kind. It was enough for us that he never looked or
acted scornfully toward us. The idea of rank and station was rigidly
maintained on this estate. The family of Captain Anthony never visited
the great house, and the Lloyds never came to our house. Equal
non-intercourse was observed between Captain Anthony’s family and the
family of Mr. Seveir, the overseer.
Such, kind readers, was the community and such the place in which my
earliest and most lasting impressions of the workings of slavery were
received--of which impressions you will learn more in the after coming
chapters of this book.