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Colonel Lloyd kept from three to four hundredslaves on his home plantation, and owned a largenumber more on the neighboring farms belonging tohim. The names of the farms nearest to the homeplantation were Wye Town and New Design. "WyeTown" was under the overseership of a man namedNoah Willis. New Design was under the overseership of a Mr. Townsend. The overseers of these,and all the rest of the farms, numbering over twenty,received advice and direction from the managers ofthe home plantation. This was the great businessplace. It was the seat of government for the wholetwenty farms. All disputes among the overseers weresettled here. If a slave was convicted of any highmisdemeanor, became unmanageable, or evinced adetermination to run away, he was brought immediately here, severely whipped, put on board the sloop,carried to Baltimore, and sold to Austin Woolfolk,or some other slave-trader, as a warning to the slavesremaining.
Here, too, the slaves of all the other farms receivedtheir monthly allowance of food, and their yearlyclothing. The men and women slaves received, astheir monthly allowance of food, eight pounds ofpork, or its equivalent in fish, and one bushel ofcorn meal. Their yearly clothing consisted of twocoarse linen shirts, one pair of linen trousers, likethe shirts, one jacket, one pair of trousers for winter,made of coarse negro cloth, one pair of stockings,and one pair of shoes; the whole of which could nothave cost more than seven dollars. The allowanceof the slave children was given to their mothers, orthe old women having the care of them. The children unable to work in the field had neither shoes,stockings, jackets, nor trousers, given to them; theirclothing consisted of two coarse linen shirts per year.When these failed them, they went naked until thenext allowance-day. Children from seven to ten yearsold, of both sexes, almost naked, might be seenat all seasons of the year.
There were no beds given the slaves, unless onecoarse blanket be considered such, and none butthe men and women had these. This, however, isnot considered a very great privation. They find lessdifficulty from the want of beds, than from the wantof time to sleep; for when their day's work in thefield is done, the most of them having their washing, mending, and cooking to do, and having few ornone of the ordinary facilities for doing either ofthese, very many of their sleeping hours are consumed in preparing for the field the coming day;and when this is done, old and young, male andfemale, married and single, drop down side by side,on one common bed,--the cold, damp floor,--eachcovering himself or herself with their miserableblankets; and here they sleep till they are summonedto the field by the driver's horn. At the sound ofthis, all must rise, and be off to the field. Theremust be no halting; every one must be at his orher post; and woe betides them who hear not thismorning summons to the field; for if they are notawakened by the sense of hearing, they are by thesense of feeling: no age nor sex finds any favor.Mr. Severe, the overseer, used to stand by the doorof the quarter, armed with a large hickory stickand heavy cowskin, ready to whip any one who wasso unfortunate as not to hear, or, from any othercause, was prevented from being ready to start forthe field at the sound of the horn.
Mr. Severe was rightly named: he was a cruelman. I have seen him whip a woman, causing theblood to run half an hour at the time; and this, too,in the midst of her crying children, pleading for theirmother's release. He seemed to take pleasure inmanifesting his fiendish barbarity. Added to hiscruelty, he was a profane swearer. It was enough tochill the blood and stiffen the hair of an ordinaryman to hear him talk. Scarce a sentence escaped himbut that was commenced or concluded by some horrid oath. The field was the place to witness hiscruelty and profanity. His presence made it boththe field of blood and of blasphemy. From the risingtill the going down of the sun, he was cursing, raving,cutting, and slashing among the slaves of the field,in the most frightful manner. His career was short.He died very soon after I went to Colonel Lloyd's;and he died as he lived, uttering, with his dyinggroans, bitter curses and horrid oaths. His death wasregarded by the slaves as the result of a mercifulprovidence.
Mr. Severe's place was filled by a Mr. Hopkins.He was a very different man. He was less cruel, lessprofane, and made less noise, than Mr. Severe. Hiscourse was characterized by no extraordinary demonstrations of cruelty. He whipped, but seemed to takeno pleasure in it. He was called by the slaves a goodoverseer.
The home plantation of Colonel Lloyd wore theappearance of a country village. All the mechanicaloperations for all the farms were performed here.The shoemaking and mending, the blacksmithing,cartwrighting, coopering, weaving, and grain-grinding, were all performed by the slaves on the homeplantation. The whole place wore a business-like aspect very unlike the neighboring farms. The number of houses, too, conspired to give it advantageover the neighboring farms. It was called by theslaves the ~Great House Farm.~ Few privileges wereesteemed higher, by the slaves of the out-farms, thanthat of being selected to do errands at the GreatHouse Farm. It was associated in their minds withgreatness. A representative could not be prouder ofhis election to a seat in the American Congress,than a slave on one of the out-farms would be of hiselection to do errands at the Great House Farm.They regarded it as evidence of great confidence reposed in them by their overseers; and it was onthis account, as well as a constant desire to be out ofthe field from under the driver's lash, that they esteemed it a high privilege, one worth careful livingfor. He was called the smartest and most trusty fellow, who had this honor conferred upon him themost frequently. The competitors for this officesought as diligently to please their overseers, as theoffice-seekers in the political parties seek to pleaseand deceive the people. The same traits of charactermight be seen in Colonel Lloyd's slaves, as are seenin the slaves of the political parties.
The slaves selected to go to the Great House Farm,for the monthly allowance for themselves and theirfellow-slaves, were peculiarly enthusiastic. While ontheir way, they would make the dense old woods,for miles around, reverberate with their wild songs,revealing at once the highest joy and the deepestsadness. They would compose and sing as they wentalong, consulting neither time nor tune. The thoughtthat came up, came out--if not in the word, in thesound;--and as frequently in the one as in the other.They would sometimes sing the most pathetic sentiment in the most rapturous tone, and the most rapturous sentiment in the most pathetic tone. Into allof their songs they would manage to weave something of the Great House Farm. Especially wouldthey do this, when leaving home. They would thensing most exultingly the following words:--
"I am going away to the Great House Farm!
O, yea! O, yea! O!"This they would sing, as a chorus, to words which tomany would seem unmeaning jargon, but which,nevertheless, were full of meaning to themselves. Ihave sometimes thought that the mere hearing ofthose songs would do more to impress some mindswith the horrible character of slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of philosophy on the subjectcould do.
I did not, when a slave, understand the deepmeaning of those rude and apparently incoherentsongs. I was myself within the circle; so that I neither saw nor heard as those without might see andhear. They told a tale of woe which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; theywere tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed theprayer and complaint of souls boiling over with thebitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony againstslavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance fromchains. The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness. I have frequently found myself in tears whilehearing them. The mere recurrence to those songs,even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing theselines, an expression of feeling has already found itsway down my cheek. To those songs I trace my firstglimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of slavery. I can never get rid of that conception. Those songs still follow me, to deepen myhatred of slavery, and quicken my sympathies formy brethren in bonds. If any one wishes to be impressed with the soul-killing effects of slavery, lethim go to Colonel Lloyd's plantation, and, on allowance-day, place himself in the deep pine woods, andthere let him, in silence, analyze the sounds thatshall pass through the chambers of his soul,--and ifhe is not thus impressed, it will only be because"there is no flesh in his obdurate heart."
I have often been utterly astonished, since I cameto the north, to find persons who could speak ofthe singing, among slaves, as evidence of their contentment and happiness. It is impossible to conceiveof a greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they aremost unhappy. The songs of the slave represent thesorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by them, onlyas an aching heart is relieved by its tears. At least,such is my experience. I have often sung to drownmy sorrow, but seldom to express my happiness.Crying for joy, and singing for joy, were alike uncommon to me while in the jaws of slavery. Thesinging of a man cast away upon a desolate islandmight be as appropriately considered as evidence ofcontentment and happiness, as the singing of aslave; the songs of the one and of the other areprompted by the same emotion.
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